--- /dev/null
+{
+ "cells": [
+ {
+ "cell_type": "markdown",
+ "metadata": {},
+ "source": [
+ "# Punctuation in novels\n",
+ "Inspired by https://medium.com/@neuroecology/punctuation-in-novels-8f316d542ec4#.qwj8e1n8m"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 1,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": true
+ },
+ "outputs": [],
+ "source": [
+ "import string\n",
+ "import collections\n",
+ "from PIL import Image, ImageDraw\n",
+ "from math import ceil"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "markdown",
+ "metadata": {},
+ "source": [
+ "The `string` module has some nice subsets of characters. Does it know about punctuation?"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 2,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [
+ {
+ "data": {
+ "text/plain": [
+ "'!\"#$%&\\'()*+,-./:;<=>?@[\\\\]^_`{|}~'"
+ ]
+ },
+ "execution_count": 2,
+ "metadata": {},
+ "output_type": "execute_result"
+ }
+ ],
+ "source": [
+ "string.punctuation"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "markdown",
+ "metadata": {},
+ "source": [
+ "## Getting the punctuation\n",
+ "First, let's just open a text file and read the punctuation. We can also count the number of different punctuation characters in it."
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 20,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": true
+ },
+ "outputs": [],
+ "source": [
+ "sherlock = open('sherlock-holmes.txt').read()"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 21,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [
+ {
+ "name": "stdout",
+ "output_type": "stream",
+ "text": [
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+ ]
+ }
+ ],
+ "source": [
+ "sherlock_punct = [c for c in sherlock if c in string.punctuation]\n",
+ "print(''.join(sherlock_punct))"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 22,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [
+ {
+ "data": {
+ "text/plain": [
+ "Counter({'!': 171,\n",
+ " '\"': 4834,\n",
+ " '&': 5,\n",
+ " \"'\": 1490,\n",
+ " '(': 5,\n",
+ " ',': 7053,\n",
+ " '-': 965,\n",
+ " '.': 4843,\n",
+ " '/': 1,\n",
+ " ':': 56,\n",
+ " ';': 202,\n",
+ " '?': 138})"
+ ]
+ },
+ "execution_count": 22,
+ "metadata": {},
+ "output_type": "execute_result"
+ }
+ ],
+ "source": [
+ "sherlock_counts = collections.Counter(sherlock_punct)\n",
+ "sherlock_counts"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 25,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": true
+ },
+ "outputs": [],
+ "source": [
+ "def punct_summarise(fname):\n",
+ " content = open(fname).read()\n",
+ " punct = ''.join(c for c in content if c in string.punctuation)\n",
+ " counts = collections.Counter(punct)\n",
+ " return {'punctuation': punct, 'counts': counts}"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 26,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [
+ {
+ "data": {
+ "text/plain": [
+ "Counter({'!': 171,\n",
+ " '\"': 4834,\n",
+ " '&': 5,\n",
+ " \"'\": 1490,\n",
+ " '(': 5,\n",
+ " ',': 7053,\n",
+ " '-': 965,\n",
+ " '.': 4843,\n",
+ " '/': 1,\n",
+ " ':': 56,\n",
+ " ';': 202,\n",
+ " '?': 138})"
+ ]
+ },
+ "execution_count": 26,
+ "metadata": {},
+ "output_type": "execute_result"
+ }
+ ],
+ "source": [
+ "sherlock = punct_summarise('sherlock-holmes.txt')\n",
+ "sherlock['counts']"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 28,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [
+ {
+ "data": {
+ "text/plain": [
+ "Counter({'!': 3923,\n",
+ " '\"': 17970,\n",
+ " '#': 1,\n",
+ " '$': 2,\n",
+ " '%': 1,\n",
+ " \"'\": 7529,\n",
+ " '(': 670,\n",
+ " ')': 670,\n",
+ " '*': 300,\n",
+ " ',': 39891,\n",
+ " '-': 6308,\n",
+ " '.': 30805,\n",
+ " '/': 29,\n",
+ " ':': 1014,\n",
+ " ';': 1145,\n",
+ " '=': 2,\n",
+ " '?': 3137,\n",
+ " '@': 2,\n",
+ " '[': 1,\n",
+ " ']': 1})"
+ ]
+ },
+ "execution_count": 28,
+ "metadata": {},
+ "output_type": "execute_result"
+ }
+ ],
+ "source": [
+ "wap = punct_summarise('war-and-peace.txt')\n",
+ "wap['counts']"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 64,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [
+ {
+ "data": {
+ "text/plain": [
+ "Counter({'!': 10815,\n",
+ " '\"': 6,\n",
+ " '&': 10,\n",
+ " \"'\": 27942,\n",
+ " ',': 82750,\n",
+ " '-': 4590,\n",
+ " '.': 36881,\n",
+ " ':': 10649,\n",
+ " ';': 17400,\n",
+ " '?': 10327,\n",
+ " '[': 19,\n",
+ " ']': 18})"
+ ]
+ },
+ "execution_count": 64,
+ "metadata": {},
+ "output_type": "execute_result"
+ }
+ ],
+ "source": [
+ "shakespeare = punct_summarise('shakespeare.txt')\n",
+ "shakespeare['counts']"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 90,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [
+ {
+ "data": {
+ "text/plain": [
+ "Counter({'!': 1576,\n",
+ " '\"': 8,\n",
+ " '%': 3,\n",
+ " '&': 3,\n",
+ " \"'\": 4485,\n",
+ " '(': 1777,\n",
+ " ')': 1788,\n",
+ " '*': 90,\n",
+ " '+': 2,\n",
+ " ',': 16349,\n",
+ " '-': 5037,\n",
+ " '.': 21361,\n",
+ " '/': 58,\n",
+ " ':': 2564,\n",
+ " ';': 34,\n",
+ " '?': 2235,\n",
+ " '_': 4566})"
+ ]
+ },
+ "execution_count": 90,
+ "metadata": {},
+ "output_type": "execute_result"
+ }
+ ],
+ "source": [
+ "ulysses = punct_summarise('ulysses.txt')\n",
+ "ulysses['counts']"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 63,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [
+ {
+ "name": "stdout",
+ "output_type": "stream",
+ "text": [
+ ".\",.\"\",'.\".\"\"-\".\".\",\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\".\"\".\",;,\"\".''''''''' ,.\",\",\"'..?\"\".,\",,\",,,.,..?.?\"\",\".\",\",,\"?.\",..\",\",\n",
+ "''',''''\".\",-,.--,.',--',,,\",.\"\".\"..-''..,,.,,\"',. .,',.',..,,(),:\".?.\".\",\",--\".?',.',\".\".,'.\".\"',\".\"\n",
+ ".\",\".\"\",.\"..',,\"\",\"\",....\"\"-\"\".,..,,\",,..\"\".,.,,.- .\"\"';.?\"(),\"'....\",,..\"?\".\",.,..\",.\"?,\",.\"...'!\",.\n",
+ ",-.,,.-,,,,,.,,,,.\"\".\"\",.\"\".\",.,.\"\",.,,,.,\",.\",\".\" .\"?\".\",',.,.\",,,.\",\",,\"?,\",\",?\":\"'....?\"\"..-,'.',.\n",
+ "\".\"\",\";.\"\"\".\"\"\"\".\",\"\"\".\",.,,\"\"\",.,..\"\",\"\".,,.\"\";\". .;,.--'.\"\",,\",'.\"-,.'.\",',,,.\",\",,\"',',,.''.\"'.:.'\n",
+ "\"\",\".\",-,\"\"\",,\"..\"\",\",.\":,,-,.\"\",\".,.--.\"\".\"!.-!,! ,,';.,,*.,,.',,,..*.,\",\"\"?\",,;,'.,,;.,,,\",,.\",,.-.\n",
+ "-!-!-!,,,,\"\".-\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\".,\"\"\"\",!\"\"-\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\", ,,,,.,-----.,,,.,,,,.,,.,,,,,.\",\",.\",,,\",.\",.\"-,-,\n",
+ "!!\"\"-\"\"\"\"..\"\"\"\"\"\".\"\"\"\",\"\"....\"\"\"\"\".\"\".\"\".\",.\"\"\"\"\"\" ,.\",,,\".\",\",,\"?.?\",,,.\"!\".,-,,-,,.,-'.,,..-,,,.,,,\n",
+ "\"\"\"\"-,...\"\"\"\"...,.,.,-\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\".\"\",\".\",.,,\"\".\"\"\"\".\" .\",,,\",.,.,.','.:\"?.\"\",,.\"\"?\"..,.,,'.\",\".,,.,,,,,,\n",
+ "\",\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\".\"\".-.\"'\".\",,.'\".\"\".\"\"\"\"\",-,,.-,\",.\"-'\" -,,,..,.,'.,,,.-..,.'..,,,.,,.,,,',,,..-,..',,,.'.\n",
+ ".',.'.,,,.,,,,.,,,,,,,..,-,--,,.',.,-,.,.\",\",,,.\"\" ','.\",!,,\",:\",.\".,.\",\".\",\".\",\";,-..\",,,\",..--.,,,,\n",
+ "\"'.,\"\"'.,,\"\";.,.'..,..,,,..-,,,.,-.,.\",,.,,,,,,\"\"\" ,,,,----.,.,,.\"!\";.\",,\",...,,,,.,,',..\",'....,?\",.\n",
+ ".\",'..-,.,,,.,.,.,,,,..,..-,.,,.\"...,?,,?,.,.,'.,. \".\",,.\",\",,.,,.,.',,-,,,,-,.,,,,.\"'?\",,.\",,\",.\",\".\n",
+ ",,\"\"\".\",.,,,-.,,.\",-,,,..,.,,'','&',..'\",,-,,.'.,, -.-,,,,..,,';,',,'.,.,;.\"!\".\"!\",.,,,,.,,'-,.,.\"...\n",
+ ".'.,',''\",.,.,.'.',''-,.\".',...,...,,,.''.''.!'''. ,\".\"----,!\"\"?\".,,.',,.\",,,,\".,,,.:,'.,,,.,,,,,.,.,\n",
+ "',,,,''\"-,,,,,,.,,.,.,,.,-\"\"\";\"\"\",.,.,,,,.''..,\"\"\" .,',.\",?\".\",\",',\"--....\"\",?\"\".\"\"?\"\",\",,\"!\".,,,.,,'\n",
+ "\"\",.\",.,,-\"\"\"\"'\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\",\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"..\",\",...,,,.\"\"\"\". .\"!...,,?\".\",\".\".?\".\",!\",'.,.\",,\",.\"',.,\",.,,,,.,,\n",
+ "..,.\"\"\"\"....-.\"\"\"\",\"\"\"\"--,,,.\"\"\"\"\",-.\"'-,-..,.,.\"\" .\",\".\",\".':\"!..\".'..-.\",?\",.\"'..\",,,.\",?\".\",,,\",\".\n",
+ ",,,,,\"\"\"\"\"\".,,\"-.,,,,...,,.,,.,.,,.',.,,.,-,-,-.\"\" ..\",,,..,,''.',,;'.\",,\".\",';'--,\".\",',!.,\",.\",,\",.\n",
+ ",,\".-..,.,\"\",\"\"..'...,,\"\",\"\"...,.?,.,..\"\"\"\"!\"\"\"\"\"\" ,,.,,,.',,.;.,----,,,,..\",\",\";',--..?\"\"!--!\".\"--!.\n"
+ ]
+ }
+ ],
+ "source": [
+ "line_len = 50\n",
+ "for i in range(5,25):\n",
+ " print(sherlock['punctuation'][line_len*i:line_len*(i+1)], wap['punctuation'][line_len*i:line_len*(i+1)])"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 87,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": true
+ },
+ "outputs": [],
+ "source": [
+ "def compare(text1, text2, offset=0, line_len=50):\n",
+ " for i in range(offset, max(len(text1), len(text2)), line_len):\n",
+ " t1 = text1[i:i+line_len]\n",
+ " t1 += (' ' * (line_len - len(t1)))\n",
+ " print(t1, text2[i:i+line_len])"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 88,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [
+ {
+ "name": "stdout",
+ "output_type": "stream",
+ "text": [
+ "..-.......'.........,,,.,,,.,.-'..,-,.,,...,-,,,,, ,.,-..::::,[#]:,:******,/:::::-:-:-:-:::::::-:-:\",\n",
+ ",,,.,,,,.:,,.,,,.-,-(,.-,,,,.,,,,.,,.,,..-...;,,., ,.,',----,','!?--.\",,-,.,,..,,;.,.,,-,:\",(),,--.\"\"\n",
+ ",,,..\"\".\",,\"\"\".\",.,,.,.\"\",\"\",.,\"\"\",\".,.,'.,,,,,\",. !!\",.,,,,.,,.,,,,,.\",,.',\",.\"??\".\",?\"\"'?.,\".\".\"\"'.\n",
+ "\"\";\",,..,,,-.,,,-,,,\".\"\",\",.\"\"\",,.\",..,\"\"\"\"\"\",\"\"\"\" .\"\",,\",,-,.\"'!,'?.\"\"?\",.\"?,.\",.,,.,,.,,,,,,,,.:\",'\n",
+ "?'\"\"!...,,.--,,,\",--.\"\".\"\",.\"-,'\",\"...,\"\"\".\"\"\"..,. .',,,.!..!,.,!....,,?...'..,,.?.-,.?!!,....',...!\"\n",
+ ".\",.\"\",'.\".\"\"-\".\".\",\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\".\"\".\",;,\"\".''''''''' ,.\",\",\"'..?\"\".,\",,\",,,.,..?.?\"\",\".\",\",,\"?.\",..\",\",\n",
+ "''',''''\".\",-,.--,.',--',,,\",.\"\".\"..-''..,,.,,\"',. .,',.',..,,(),:\".?.\".\",\",--\".?',.',\".\".,'.\".\"',\".\"\n",
+ ".\",\".\"\",.\"..',,\"\",\"\",....\"\"-\"\".,..,,\",,..\"\".,.,,.- .\"\"';.?\"(),\"'....\",,..\"?\".\",.,..\",.\"?,\",.\"...'!\",.\n",
+ ",-.,,.-,,,,,.,,,,.\"\".\"\",.\"\".\",.,.\"\",.,,,.,\",.\",\".\" .\"?\".\",',.,.\",,,.\",\",,\"?,\",\",?\":\"'....?\"\"..-,'.',.\n",
+ "\".\"\",\";.\"\"\".\"\"\"\".\",\"\"\".\",.,,\"\"\",.,..\"\",\"\".,,.\"\";\". .;,.--'.\"\",,\",'.\"-,.'.\",',,,.\",\",,\"',',,.''.\"'.:.'\n",
+ "\"\",\".\",-,\"\"\",,\"..\"\",\",.\":,,-,.\"\",\".,.--.\"\".\"!.-!,! ,,';.,,*.,,.',,,..*.,\",\"\"?\",,;,'.,,;.,,,\",,.\",,.-.\n",
+ "-!-!-!,,,,\"\".-\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\".,\"\"\"\",!\"\"-\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\", ,,,,.,-----.,,,.,,,,.,,.,,,,,.\",\",.\",,,\",.\",.\"-,-,\n",
+ "!!\"\"-\"\"\"\"..\"\"\"\"\"\".\"\"\"\",\"\"....\"\"\"\"\".\"\".\"\".\",.\"\"\"\"\"\" ,.\",,,\".\",\",,\"?.?\",,,.\"!\".,-,,-,,.,-'.,,..-,,,.,,,\n",
+ "\"\"\"\"-,...\"\"\"\"...,.,.,-\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\".\"\",\".\",.,,\"\".\"\"\"\".\" .\",,,\",.,.,.','.:\"?.\"\",,.\"\"?\"..,.,,'.\",\".,,.,,,,,,\n",
+ "\",\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\".\"\".-.\"'\".\",,.'\".\"\".\"\"\"\"\",-,,.-,\",.\"-'\" -,,,..,.,'.,,,.-..,.'..,,,.,,.,,,',,,..-,..',,,.'.\n",
+ ".',.'.,,,.,,,,.,,,,,,,..,-,--,,.',.,-,.,.\",\",,,.\"\" ','.\",!,,\",:\",.\".,.\",\".\",\".\",\";,-..\",,,\",..--.,,,,\n",
+ "\"'.,\"\"'.,,\"\";.,.'..,..,,,..-,,,.,-.,.\",,.,,,,,,\"\"\" ,,,,----.,.,,.\"!\";.\",,\",...,,,,.,,',..\",'....,?\",.\n",
+ ".\",'..-,.,,,.,.,.,,,,..,..-,.,,.\"...,?,,?,.,.,'.,. \".\",,.\",\",,.,,.,.',,-,,,,-,.,,,,.\"'?\",,.\",,\",.\",\".\n",
+ ",,\"\"\".\",.,,,-.,,.\",-,,,..,.,,'','&',..'\",,-,,.'.,, -.-,,,,..,,';,',,'.,.,;.\"!\".\"!\",.,,,,.,,'-,.,.\"...\n",
+ ".'.,',''\",.,.,.'.',''-,.\".',...,...,,,.''.''.!'''. ,\".\"----,!\"\"?\".,,.',,.\",,,,\".,,,.:,'.,,,.,,,,,.,.,\n",
+ "',,,,''\"-,,,,,,.,,.,.,,.,-\"\"\";\"\"\",.,.,,,,.''..,\"\"\" .,',.\",?\".\",\",',\"--....\"\",?\"\".\"\"?\"\",\",,\"!\".,,,.,,'\n",
+ "\"\",.\",.,,-\"\"\"\"'\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\",\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"..\",\",...,,,.\"\"\"\". .\"!...,,?\".\",\".\".?\".\",!\",'.,.\",,\",.\"',.,\",.,,,,.,,\n",
+ "..,.\"\"\"\"....-.\"\"\"\",\"\"\"\"--,,,.\"\"\"\"\",-.\"'-,-..,.,.\"\" .\",\".\",\".':\"!..\".'..-.\",?\",.\"'..\",,,.\",?\".\",,,\",\".\n",
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+ ",,\".-..,.,\"\",\"\"..'...,,\"\",\"\"...,.?,.,..\"\"\"\"!\"\"\"\"\"\" ,,.,,,.',,.;.,----,,,,..\",\",\";',--..?\"\"!--!\".\"--!.\n",
+ "\"\"\"\"\"\"...\"-..,,,.,,,-,.,,,,.;,.,-,,.,,;,.\"\".\"\".\",, ..\".\"...!,...\".\",'.'..\"\",!'!...\"\",\",\".\"\",!-!?\"\"?\"\"\n",
+ "'\".\"'\"\"'\".\"''.,,.,'\"\"'.,\"\".-..,\",.,,.,,..,-.,,..,. ;,'.\"\",,!\",,,-..,.,,..\",?\",\",?!'!.\".\"',!'*,\",:\"''.\n",
+ ".\"\",-,,--\"\".,.,',..\",\".\".\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\",\"\"\"\"\",.\".,,.\"\"\"\" !'\"*,!\",\".\".\"\"?,\",:\",...,,?!\".\",.!,.\",.,,,..\",'--,\n",
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+ ",,.,,,.;,.-\"\"\".\".-,,.-,.\"\"\"\".,.,,.\".:\"-,\",.\"'\",.\", .\"\",\",,\"'.\"\",\".\".\"\",\".,.\"',,'\",'.\"'.'.\"\",\".\".,\",,\"\n",
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+ "\"\".-!!\",.,..\".,\".\".\",.\"!.:\"\"\",.\"\"\"\"\"\".\"\"\"\"-,.,,.-, ,'.\"\"'?\"..\",\",,\",,----.\"\",,,,\".\"..!\",.\"??...,...'?\n",
+ ",,,.,\",.\".:\".--..,.,,....,,.,,.,,...,,,,-,,.\",,.., \".\"',\".\",.\"\":,,,\".\",,.,,,.\"\",\",,\"-.?.?.,.\".',,-.',\n",
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+ ".,.,,,.,.,.,...,,.,,\".,,,,.,,.,,,.',--,,,.-.,,,.', ....\".,,''.,,,.,..,,,;,,;,.-.,,'-,,,.-,,,,.,,:\",,.\n",
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+ ",,'.,''',,'.,.,--,,-.',.'-'.''',,'''.',,,''\",,-,.' \".\",\".?\"\",;..;.\"'.,.\",,\".\",\"..\",...\"\",?\".\"?'.....\"\n",
+ "'.'',,',.,,,.-,-;,.''','-'''.',.,.,,,,,,.,,.,;'\",, .\"!\"'.,'.....\",\",,,\"?!,.,!\"\".',\",..'.\",!\".\"';''.',\n",
+ ",,,.,.,.\",..,,,.-,''..-,,,,-,,;,,-.,;.,,.,,;\"\"\".\"\" '?.:'--,.,.','?'.\".\".--...?\",,.\"?\".\",','!',\"-.\"...\n",
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+ "'.\",,.,..,;.'-,,.\",.,'.,.,..,,,.,,,,,,.\",,'.,.\"\"\"\" .,,--.\",,!':,,.--..!!!'.,,,!...'?...\".,-,.\",\",\",';\n",
+ ",..',,.,\"-.:-.,.,.\"\",.\",\"\",\",.\"'..,,.\"\",..,.,,-,-. ,,!,.\"'-.;,,.,.\"',\",\".,\"(),\".,,.,,!.,,,,--.,,.,\",\"\n",
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+ ".-\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\",\"\"\"\"\"\"-,\"\"\"\",\"\",-,,,'.\".\"\".\"\"\",.\"\"\",. \"\"\".\".';.\",----.\",.,'!;'.'.:.--,,!\"\",?\",.\",;!\"\"',\"\n",
+ "\"\"\",,;\"\"\"\",.'\"\",...-,\"\",\",\"\"\"\".\"\"\"\",\".,,.\"\",\".\"\".\" .\",';','''!\"','.\"?\",,\",....'.','.,'.\"\"?\"\"!\"'.,,...\n",
+ ",'\",-,.,,.\".'\".\",?\"\"-.\"\".,.,.,.\";-,.,,-,--,--.\"\",, .,,.\"',\"..,,.,;\",\",\"'',,!\",.'.',,,,.;,,;,.,.,.,,.,\n",
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+ ".-\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\".,,,,\",,.,.,,,.,-\"\"-,.,?,?-'-.,.-,.,.,,, ,.,,.\",'',\".\"?...??\".\"-,\",,,,,.,,.\"!\",..\"\"--,--\"..\n",
+ ",,-,-.\"!\",-.\",.,?.,-'\"\"',,\".\".\"\"\"..\".,\".\",,',,.,,\" .?\",.\",,\".\"....,\"()\".?\"\",\".----.\"!\",.\",.!,.?\",.,,'\n",
+ "\",,.,\".\",.--\"\"\",\"-,.,.,,;,,\"\",,,,.',.,,.',.,.,,.', .,,,,,.\"!!!\",.\"!\",.,.,.,,,,.,.',,.,..,,'.\",!',\"..\"\n",
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+ ",.\"\".\"\".,.\",,\",.\"\".\".,\".,,,,.,.\"\",\".,.,--..,\"\"\".\"\" .,;.,.,...:,.\"'.\",...\"!...!...'!...!\"....\",?'!\".\",\n",
+ "\"\"\".,.,.,.,\"\"\".\"...,\"\"\"\".,,,.'.,,.,,.,.,,.,,\",,.-. !.'....!\"\",,\",.\"??...!...,,\".\"'!'!\",.;.\",',\".\"'...\n",
+ ",'.,,,.\"\".\"-.,\"\"\"\".\"!,.,;,,,-,....,,,,,,.,,.,.,,., .!',----'.\"\",\".\"!...'.\",,,.'.,,.,,''.',,,,.,,,..'-\n",
+ ",,,,.-,,,,,--,.,,.\"'\".\"?!,,,'\".,.,'',.\"',\".\"\"\"\".\", ---.,,',.-,.-,,--.,,.,,.,.,.\",,,\"\"\"--,\",\"--\".,!,!\"\n",
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+ ",,.',,.,,.?',.!..-.,?.\"....,,,.,...,,...,',.,\"\"-\". .'......\",,,,.:',,,'.\",\".\",!\"\"?\",'.\"',\".\",.\"\"'!\".\"\n",
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+ " ?,,,.?...?,,',.?,(),,,().?,',.,?/'.',.?,,,',,.?.?,\n",
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+ " ,,,,,()().,,().,,?(),..,,,,',,,,..,,.()..,,,.?'.,,\n",
+ " ,,.?.?..,,?,,,,,,,,,.?,,,,.,,,,,.?.,',,/',,:,(),()\n",
+ " ,,,.?..'/-....?.-,.:,.().().(,).?'?..,',,,.,..,,,.\n",
+ " .,......,,?,,.?..........................?,:',','.\n",
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+ " ),,,,,.,,?,.?,,:,,,,,:,,,,,,,,(),,,,,,:,,:(.')('):\n",
+ " :.,?_,,._?.?.?()().'?,.'?.'?.''?,':,,,.,':.?,,:,..\n",
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+ " ?:),,,:),,,,,__,/.?:.:,.:,,,.,,,,,?()().?:.:,.:,.'\n",
+ " ?,.?,,.?(),,().?,,,.?,,(--),,.,,,,,,,?,.,.,(),,(..\n",
+ " ,),,,,,,,,,().?:',,,,,()(').:()(/-)..,,,,,,,.'?.'?\n",
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+ " ,,,(),:',,.?:,,,,,,.:(,),,,.?.?,,,.,,?,,.,()?.?:_.\n",
+ " ..._:_,,,._?(),(),(),(),(),(),(),(),(),().,?,'.,?,\n",
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+ " ,,).__().__....,.',,,,,,,,,,,,.?,:::,.?'_-._?(),,(\n",
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+ " ).,,,.(),()(),..''''()...-------------------------\n",
+ " --------------------------------------------------\n",
+ " ---._'_()...---------------?,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,.?,,',\n",
+ " .?,,,,(),,,,____,,,,(),,,,,,,,,,(..,,,,,),,,(),,,,\n",
+ " ',,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,(,,),(),/-,,,,,,,,:,,:,,,,,:,:',(\n",
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+ " _,,,,:,:,,__,,:+.,:_,_:,',.,,,:\"\",::()'():,,.',,:,\n",
+ " ,,::,(),:,(),:,,,/...,,,/...':()../../../.:__,'::,\n",
+ " ,..,,,..:,,:-:::)(,)(,))(,)(,),,..,,,..::,,:,'-'('\n",
+ " /-,'/-)./,,/,,:,',,,,,().():..,,,,,/.,'.,...?.,,,,\n",
+ " ,,,.'?!!?(....)(..).?,,,(,),,(),,(,).?,,,,.?::',()\n",
+ " ,,//,,,()////,:,/,'://(,,),:,()():'(),:..,,,,,.()?\n",
+ " (),,.():',,,::__.?..................,............_\n",
+ " ......_...?,,,,,:,:,:,.?.?:,::::.?,.()?()(),,,,,,(\n",
+ " ,,),(,).()().?:.?...?,.?,,.,,.,::,,.:..,,,,,,,,,,,\n",
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+ " ),(),(),.,?,,,.,,,,.?,,,,,(),/,,,,..?..?,.,,.?,,,,\n",
+ " ,,,,.,,.,,,,,().?.,,?,:,:,:,:,:()(),:,,.,?,()(),,(\n",
+ " )().,,,,?():():():():():():():,',():():'():,,():()\n",
+ " :():,,()--',().?.,,,,?'?,,??,,,,,?:(,,,,,..)::(),,\n",
+ " ,,.,,?,,,,'.?,,,,,:,,,,,.?',,',,,',,,,,,,,...().?,\n",
+ " ,,,'.,,,,,,,,,(,),(,).'?,,,,,.?,():,,:,:,:,,,.,,?,\n",
+ " ,,,,,,,,,,.?,,,.?,,',,,,,',',,(),,,,,,,(),,,,,,,.(\n",
+ " ).?(),(),(),().,?,,,,,,.?,,,.?,.?,.()(),,.,,.?),,,\n",
+ " ),,),,),,,),,.?,,..,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,',,,,\n",
+ " .,,,,,,.,.,?()()().,?,,.,.,.()(),.(),..,,,(,:,),,,\n",
+ " ,,.,,?::;:::(,)(,)::::::.,,?,(,,,),,,,,.?::::.?,,,\n",
+ " .?::::.?,,,.?:,,,,,,(),.:,,,,,'('),,,,,,(),,,,(),,\n",
+ " .?.?,.?(),.,,,,,.,(),,,,,.,,,,,,,(),.?,,,,,.''?,.?\n",
+ " ,...:,...:,.,,.:.?.,,.?:,,,,,-,,,.:,,,,,,.??..?.?'\n",
+ " '.?__/'____/__//---./-/-__////-/.---\n"
+ ]
+ }
+ ],
+ "source": [
+ "compare(sherlock['punctuation'], ulysses['punctuation'])"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 52,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": true
+ },
+ "outputs": [],
+ "source": [
+ "from PIL import Image, ImageDraw\n",
+ "from math import ceil"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 38,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [
+ {
+ "data": {
+ "text/plain": [
+ "19763"
+ ]
+ },
+ "execution_count": 38,
+ "metadata": {},
+ "output_type": "execute_result"
+ }
+ ],
+ "source": [
+ "len(sherlock['punctuation'])"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 46,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [],
+ "source": [
+ "# Periods and question marks and exclamation marks are red. \n",
+ "# Commas and quotation marks are green. \n",
+ "# Semicolons and colons are blue. \n",
+ "colours = {'.': (255, 0, 0), '?': (255, 0, 0), '!': (255, 0, 0),\n",
+ " ',': (0, 255, 0), '\"': (0, 255, 0), \"'\": (0, 255, 0),\n",
+ " ':': (0, 0, 255), ';': (0, 0, 255),\n",
+ " 'unknown': (128, 128, 128)}\n",
+ "max_x = 1000\n",
+ "max_y = 1000\n",
+ "block_size = 4\n",
+ "text = sherlock['punctuation']\n",
+ "img = Image.new('RGBA', (max_x, max_y))\n",
+ "draw = ImageDraw.Draw(img)\n",
+ "x = 0\n",
+ "y = 0\n",
+ "i = 0\n",
+ "# for i in range(100):\n",
+ "# if text[i] in colours:\n",
+ "# this_colour = colours[text[i]]\n",
+ "for p in text:\n",
+ " if p in colours:\n",
+ " this_colour = colours[p]\n",
+ " else:\n",
+ " this_colour = colours['unknown']\n",
+ " draw.rectangle((x, y, x+block_size, y+block_size), fill=this_colour)\n",
+ " x += block_size\n",
+ " if x >= max_x:\n",
+ " x = 0\n",
+ " y += block_size\n",
+ "img.save('test.png')"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 79,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [],
+ "source": [
+ "# Periods and question marks and exclamation marks are red. \n",
+ "# Commas and quotation marks are -green- blue. \n",
+ "# Semicolons and colons are -blue- green. \n",
+ "def make_image(text, block_size=4, width=1000, colours=None):\n",
+ " default_colours = {'.': (255, 0, 0), '?': (255, 0, 0), '!': (255, 0, 0),\n",
+ " ',': (0, 0, 255), '\"': (0, 0, 255), \"'\": (0, 0, 255),\n",
+ " ':': (0, 255, 0), ';': (0, 255, 0),\n",
+ " 'unknown': (128, 128, 128)}\n",
+ " if not colours:\n",
+ " colours = {}\n",
+ " use_colours = default_colours.copy()\n",
+ " use_colours.update(colours)\n",
+ " height = ceil((len(text) * block_size) / width)\n",
+ " img = Image.new('RGBA', (width, height))\n",
+ " draw = ImageDraw.Draw(img)\n",
+ " x = 0\n",
+ " y = 0\n",
+ " for p in text:\n",
+ " if p in use_colours:\n",
+ " this_colour = use_colours[p]\n",
+ " else:\n",
+ " this_colour = use_colours['unknown']\n",
+ " draw.rectangle((x, y, x+block_size, y+block_size), fill=this_colour)\n",
+ " x += block_size\n",
+ " if x >= width:\n",
+ " x = 0\n",
+ " y += block_size\n",
+ " return img"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 80,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [],
+ "source": [
+ "i = make_image(sherlock['punctuation'])\n",
+ "i.save('sherlock.png')"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 81,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": true
+ },
+ "outputs": [],
+ "source": [
+ "i = make_image(wap['punctuation'])\n",
+ "i.save('wap.png')"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 82,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": true
+ },
+ "outputs": [],
+ "source": [
+ "i = make_image(shakespeare['punctuation'])\n",
+ "i.save('shakespeare.png')"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 92,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": true
+ },
+ "outputs": [],
+ "source": [
+ "i = make_image(ulysses['punctuation'])\n",
+ "i.save('ulysses.png')"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 57,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": true
+ },
+ "outputs": [],
+ "source": [
+ "i = make_image(wap['punctuation'], block_size=6)\n",
+ "i.save('wap.png')"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 84,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [],
+ "source": [
+ "i = make_image(wap['punctuation'], block_size=2, width=300, colours={'-': (255,255,255)})\n",
+ "i.save('wap.png')"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": null,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": true
+ },
+ "outputs": [],
+ "source": []
+ }
+ ],
+ "metadata": {
+ "kernelspec": {
+ "display_name": "Python 3",
+ "language": "python",
+ "name": "python3"
+ },
+ "language_info": {
+ "codemirror_mode": {
+ "name": "ipython",
+ "version": 3
+ },
+ "file_extension": ".py",
+ "mimetype": "text/x-python",
+ "name": "python",
+ "nbconvert_exporter": "python",
+ "pygments_lexer": "ipython3",
+ "version": "3.4.3+"
+ }
+ },
+ "nbformat": 4,
+ "nbformat_minor": 0
+}
--- /dev/null
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen\r
+\r
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with\r
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or\r
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included\r
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org\r
+\r
+\r
+Title: Pride and Prejudice\r
+\r
+Author: Jane Austen\r
+\r
+Posting Date: August 26, 2008 [EBook #1342]\r
+Release Date: June, 1998\r
+Last updated: February 15, 2015]\r
+\r
+Language: English\r
+\r
+Character set encoding: ASCII\r
+\r
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRIDE AND PREJUDICE ***\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Produced by Anonymous Volunteers\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+PRIDE AND PREJUDICE\r
+\r
+By Jane Austen\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 1\r
+\r
+\r
+It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession\r
+of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.\r
+\r
+However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his\r
+first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds\r
+of the surrounding families, that he is considered the rightful property\r
+of some one or other of their daughters.\r
+\r
+"My dear Mr. Bennet," said his lady to him one day, "have you heard that\r
+Netherfield Park is let at last?"\r
+\r
+Mr. Bennet replied that he had not.\r
+\r
+"But it is," returned she; "for Mrs. Long has just been here, and she\r
+told me all about it."\r
+\r
+Mr. Bennet made no answer.\r
+\r
+"Do you not want to know who has taken it?" cried his wife impatiently.\r
+\r
+"_You_ want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it."\r
+\r
+This was invitation enough.\r
+\r
+"Why, my dear, you must know, Mrs. Long says that Netherfield is taken\r
+by a young man of large fortune from the north of England; that he came\r
+down on Monday in a chaise and four to see the place, and was so much\r
+delighted with it, that he agreed with Mr. Morris immediately; that he\r
+is to take possession before Michaelmas, and some of his servants are to\r
+be in the house by the end of next week."\r
+\r
+"What is his name?"\r
+\r
+"Bingley."\r
+\r
+"Is he married or single?"\r
+\r
+"Oh! Single, my dear, to be sure! A single man of large fortune; four or\r
+five thousand a year. What a fine thing for our girls!"\r
+\r
+"How so? How can it affect them?"\r
+\r
+"My dear Mr. Bennet," replied his wife, "how can you be so tiresome! You\r
+must know that I am thinking of his marrying one of them."\r
+\r
+"Is that his design in settling here?"\r
+\r
+"Design! Nonsense, how can you talk so! But it is very likely that he\r
+_may_ fall in love with one of them, and therefore you must visit him as\r
+soon as he comes."\r
+\r
+"I see no occasion for that. You and the girls may go, or you may send\r
+them by themselves, which perhaps will be still better, for as you are\r
+as handsome as any of them, Mr. Bingley may like you the best of the\r
+party."\r
+\r
+"My dear, you flatter me. I certainly _have_ had my share of beauty, but\r
+I do not pretend to be anything extraordinary now. When a woman has five\r
+grown-up daughters, she ought to give over thinking of her own beauty."\r
+\r
+"In such cases, a woman has not often much beauty to think of."\r
+\r
+"But, my dear, you must indeed go and see Mr. Bingley when he comes into\r
+the neighbourhood."\r
+\r
+"It is more than I engage for, I assure you."\r
+\r
+"But consider your daughters. Only think what an establishment it would\r
+be for one of them. Sir William and Lady Lucas are determined to\r
+go, merely on that account, for in general, you know, they visit no\r
+newcomers. Indeed you must go, for it will be impossible for _us_ to\r
+visit him if you do not."\r
+\r
+"You are over-scrupulous, surely. I dare say Mr. Bingley will be very\r
+glad to see you; and I will send a few lines by you to assure him of my\r
+hearty consent to his marrying whichever he chooses of the girls; though\r
+I must throw in a good word for my little Lizzy."\r
+\r
+"I desire you will do no such thing. Lizzy is not a bit better than the\r
+others; and I am sure she is not half so handsome as Jane, nor half so\r
+good-humoured as Lydia. But you are always giving _her_ the preference."\r
+\r
+"They have none of them much to recommend them," replied he; "they are\r
+all silly and ignorant like other girls; but Lizzy has something more of\r
+quickness than her sisters."\r
+\r
+"Mr. Bennet, how _can_ you abuse your own children in such a way? You\r
+take delight in vexing me. You have no compassion for my poor nerves."\r
+\r
+"You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves. They\r
+are my old friends. I have heard you mention them with consideration\r
+these last twenty years at least."\r
+\r
+"Ah, you do not know what I suffer."\r
+\r
+"But I hope you will get over it, and live to see many young men of four\r
+thousand a year come into the neighbourhood."\r
+\r
+"It will be no use to us, if twenty such should come, since you will not\r
+visit them."\r
+\r
+"Depend upon it, my dear, that when there are twenty, I will visit them\r
+all."\r
+\r
+Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour,\r
+reserve, and caprice, that the experience of three-and-twenty years had\r
+been insufficient to make his wife understand his character. _Her_ mind\r
+was less difficult to develop. She was a woman of mean understanding,\r
+little information, and uncertain temper. When she was discontented,\r
+she fancied herself nervous. The business of her life was to get her\r
+daughters married; its solace was visiting and news.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 2\r
+\r
+\r
+Mr. Bennet was among the earliest of those who waited on Mr. Bingley. He\r
+had always intended to visit him, though to the last always assuring\r
+his wife that he should not go; and till the evening after the visit was\r
+paid she had no knowledge of it. It was then disclosed in the following\r
+manner. Observing his second daughter employed in trimming a hat, he\r
+suddenly addressed her with:\r
+\r
+"I hope Mr. Bingley will like it, Lizzy."\r
+\r
+"We are not in a way to know _what_ Mr. Bingley likes," said her mother\r
+resentfully, "since we are not to visit."\r
+\r
+"But you forget, mamma," said Elizabeth, "that we shall meet him at the\r
+assemblies, and that Mrs. Long promised to introduce him."\r
+\r
+"I do not believe Mrs. Long will do any such thing. She has two nieces\r
+of her own. She is a selfish, hypocritical woman, and I have no opinion\r
+of her."\r
+\r
+"No more have I," said Mr. Bennet; "and I am glad to find that you do\r
+not depend on her serving you."\r
+\r
+Mrs. Bennet deigned not to make any reply, but, unable to contain\r
+herself, began scolding one of her daughters.\r
+\r
+"Don't keep coughing so, Kitty, for Heaven's sake! Have a little\r
+compassion on my nerves. You tear them to pieces."\r
+\r
+"Kitty has no discretion in her coughs," said her father; "she times\r
+them ill."\r
+\r
+"I do not cough for my own amusement," replied Kitty fretfully. "When is\r
+your next ball to be, Lizzy?"\r
+\r
+"To-morrow fortnight."\r
+\r
+"Aye, so it is," cried her mother, "and Mrs. Long does not come back\r
+till the day before; so it will be impossible for her to introduce him,\r
+for she will not know him herself."\r
+\r
+"Then, my dear, you may have the advantage of your friend, and introduce\r
+Mr. Bingley to _her_."\r
+\r
+"Impossible, Mr. Bennet, impossible, when I am not acquainted with him\r
+myself; how can you be so teasing?"\r
+\r
+"I honour your circumspection. A fortnight's acquaintance is certainly\r
+very little. One cannot know what a man really is by the end of a\r
+fortnight. But if _we_ do not venture somebody else will; and after all,\r
+Mrs. Long and her neices must stand their chance; and, therefore, as\r
+she will think it an act of kindness, if you decline the office, I will\r
+take it on myself."\r
+\r
+The girls stared at their father. Mrs. Bennet said only, "Nonsense,\r
+nonsense!"\r
+\r
+"What can be the meaning of that emphatic exclamation?" cried he. "Do\r
+you consider the forms of introduction, and the stress that is laid on\r
+them, as nonsense? I cannot quite agree with you _there_. What say you,\r
+Mary? For you are a young lady of deep reflection, I know, and read\r
+great books and make extracts."\r
+\r
+Mary wished to say something sensible, but knew not how.\r
+\r
+"While Mary is adjusting her ideas," he continued, "let us return to Mr.\r
+Bingley."\r
+\r
+"I am sick of Mr. Bingley," cried his wife.\r
+\r
+"I am sorry to hear _that_; but why did not you tell me that before? If\r
+I had known as much this morning I certainly would not have called\r
+on him. It is very unlucky; but as I have actually paid the visit, we\r
+cannot escape the acquaintance now."\r
+\r
+The astonishment of the ladies was just what he wished; that of Mrs.\r
+Bennet perhaps surpassing the rest; though, when the first tumult of joy\r
+was over, she began to declare that it was what she had expected all the\r
+while.\r
+\r
+"How good it was in you, my dear Mr. Bennet! But I knew I should\r
+persuade you at last. I was sure you loved your girls too well to\r
+neglect such an acquaintance. Well, how pleased I am! and it is such a\r
+good joke, too, that you should have gone this morning and never said a\r
+word about it till now."\r
+\r
+"Now, Kitty, you may cough as much as you choose," said Mr. Bennet; and,\r
+as he spoke, he left the room, fatigued with the raptures of his wife.\r
+\r
+"What an excellent father you have, girls!" said she, when the door was\r
+shut. "I do not know how you will ever make him amends for his kindness;\r
+or me, either, for that matter. At our time of life it is not so\r
+pleasant, I can tell you, to be making new acquaintances every day; but\r
+for your sakes, we would do anything. Lydia, my love, though you _are_\r
+the youngest, I dare say Mr. Bingley will dance with you at the next\r
+ball."\r
+\r
+"Oh!" said Lydia stoutly, "I am not afraid; for though I _am_ the\r
+youngest, I'm the tallest."\r
+\r
+The rest of the evening was spent in conjecturing how soon he would\r
+return Mr. Bennet's visit, and determining when they should ask him to\r
+dinner.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 3\r
+\r
+\r
+Not all that Mrs. Bennet, however, with the assistance of her five\r
+daughters, could ask on the subject, was sufficient to draw from her\r
+husband any satisfactory description of Mr. Bingley. They attacked him\r
+in various ways--with barefaced questions, ingenious suppositions, and\r
+distant surmises; but he eluded the skill of them all, and they were at\r
+last obliged to accept the second-hand intelligence of their neighbour,\r
+Lady Lucas. Her report was highly favourable. Sir William had been\r
+delighted with him. He was quite young, wonderfully handsome, extremely\r
+agreeable, and, to crown the whole, he meant to be at the next assembly\r
+with a large party. Nothing could be more delightful! To be fond of\r
+dancing was a certain step towards falling in love; and very lively\r
+hopes of Mr. Bingley's heart were entertained.\r
+\r
+"If I can but see one of my daughters happily settled at Netherfield,"\r
+said Mrs. Bennet to her husband, "and all the others equally well\r
+married, I shall have nothing to wish for."\r
+\r
+In a few days Mr. Bingley returned Mr. Bennet's visit, and sat about\r
+ten minutes with him in his library. He had entertained hopes of being\r
+admitted to a sight of the young ladies, of whose beauty he had\r
+heard much; but he saw only the father. The ladies were somewhat more\r
+fortunate, for they had the advantage of ascertaining from an upper\r
+window that he wore a blue coat, and rode a black horse.\r
+\r
+An invitation to dinner was soon afterwards dispatched; and already\r
+had Mrs. Bennet planned the courses that were to do credit to her\r
+housekeeping, when an answer arrived which deferred it all. Mr. Bingley\r
+was obliged to be in town the following day, and, consequently, unable\r
+to accept the honour of their invitation, etc. Mrs. Bennet was quite\r
+disconcerted. She could not imagine what business he could have in town\r
+so soon after his arrival in Hertfordshire; and she began to fear that\r
+he might be always flying about from one place to another, and never\r
+settled at Netherfield as he ought to be. Lady Lucas quieted her fears\r
+a little by starting the idea of his being gone to London only to get\r
+a large party for the ball; and a report soon followed that Mr. Bingley\r
+was to bring twelve ladies and seven gentlemen with him to the assembly.\r
+The girls grieved over such a number of ladies, but were comforted the\r
+day before the ball by hearing, that instead of twelve he brought only\r
+six with him from London--his five sisters and a cousin. And when\r
+the party entered the assembly room it consisted of only five\r
+altogether--Mr. Bingley, his two sisters, the husband of the eldest, and\r
+another young man.\r
+\r
+Mr. Bingley was good-looking and gentlemanlike; he had a pleasant\r
+countenance, and easy, unaffected manners. His sisters were fine women,\r
+with an air of decided fashion. His brother-in-law, Mr. Hurst, merely\r
+looked the gentleman; but his friend Mr. Darcy soon drew the attention\r
+of the room by his fine, tall person, handsome features, noble mien, and\r
+the report which was in general circulation within five minutes\r
+after his entrance, of his having ten thousand a year. The gentlemen\r
+pronounced him to be a fine figure of a man, the ladies declared he\r
+was much handsomer than Mr. Bingley, and he was looked at with great\r
+admiration for about half the evening, till his manners gave a disgust\r
+which turned the tide of his popularity; for he was discovered to be\r
+proud; to be above his company, and above being pleased; and not all\r
+his large estate in Derbyshire could then save him from having a most\r
+forbidding, disagreeable countenance, and being unworthy to be compared\r
+with his friend.\r
+\r
+Mr. Bingley had soon made himself acquainted with all the principal\r
+people in the room; he was lively and unreserved, danced every dance,\r
+was angry that the ball closed so early, and talked of giving\r
+one himself at Netherfield. Such amiable qualities must speak for\r
+themselves. What a contrast between him and his friend! Mr. Darcy danced\r
+only once with Mrs. Hurst and once with Miss Bingley, declined being\r
+introduced to any other lady, and spent the rest of the evening in\r
+walking about the room, speaking occasionally to one of his own party.\r
+His character was decided. He was the proudest, most disagreeable man\r
+in the world, and everybody hoped that he would never come there again.\r
+Amongst the most violent against him was Mrs. Bennet, whose dislike of\r
+his general behaviour was sharpened into particular resentment by his\r
+having slighted one of her daughters.\r
+\r
+Elizabeth Bennet had been obliged, by the scarcity of gentlemen, to sit\r
+down for two dances; and during part of that time, Mr. Darcy had been\r
+standing near enough for her to hear a conversation between him and Mr.\r
+Bingley, who came from the dance for a few minutes, to press his friend\r
+to join it.\r
+\r
+"Come, Darcy," said he, "I must have you dance. I hate to see you\r
+standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better\r
+dance."\r
+\r
+"I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am\r
+particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this\r
+it would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and there is not\r
+another woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to me to\r
+stand up with."\r
+\r
+"I would not be so fastidious as you are," cried Mr. Bingley, "for a\r
+kingdom! Upon my honour, I never met with so many pleasant girls in\r
+my life as I have this evening; and there are several of them you see\r
+uncommonly pretty."\r
+\r
+"_You_ are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room," said Mr.\r
+Darcy, looking at the eldest Miss Bennet.\r
+\r
+"Oh! She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is one\r
+of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I\r
+dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you."\r
+\r
+"Which do you mean?" and turning round he looked for a moment at\r
+Elizabeth, till catching her eye, he withdrew his own and coldly said:\r
+"She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt _me_; I am in no\r
+humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted\r
+by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her\r
+smiles, for you are wasting your time with me."\r
+\r
+Mr. Bingley followed his advice. Mr. Darcy walked off; and Elizabeth\r
+remained with no very cordial feelings toward him. She told the story,\r
+however, with great spirit among her friends; for she had a lively,\r
+playful disposition, which delighted in anything ridiculous.\r
+\r
+The evening altogether passed off pleasantly to the whole family. Mrs.\r
+Bennet had seen her eldest daughter much admired by the Netherfield\r
+party. Mr. Bingley had danced with her twice, and she had been\r
+distinguished by his sisters. Jane was as much gratified by this as\r
+her mother could be, though in a quieter way. Elizabeth felt Jane's\r
+pleasure. Mary had heard herself mentioned to Miss Bingley as the most\r
+accomplished girl in the neighbourhood; and Catherine and Lydia had been\r
+fortunate enough never to be without partners, which was all that they\r
+had yet learnt to care for at a ball. They returned, therefore, in good\r
+spirits to Longbourn, the village where they lived, and of which they\r
+were the principal inhabitants. They found Mr. Bennet still up. With\r
+a book he was regardless of time; and on the present occasion he had a\r
+good deal of curiosity as to the event of an evening which had raised\r
+such splendid expectations. He had rather hoped that his wife's views on\r
+the stranger would be disappointed; but he soon found out that he had a\r
+different story to hear.\r
+\r
+"Oh! my dear Mr. Bennet," as she entered the room, "we have had a most\r
+delightful evening, a most excellent ball. I wish you had been there.\r
+Jane was so admired, nothing could be like it. Everybody said how well\r
+she looked; and Mr. Bingley thought her quite beautiful, and danced with\r
+her twice! Only think of _that_, my dear; he actually danced with her\r
+twice! and she was the only creature in the room that he asked a second\r
+time. First of all, he asked Miss Lucas. I was so vexed to see him stand\r
+up with her! But, however, he did not admire her at all; indeed, nobody\r
+can, you know; and he seemed quite struck with Jane as she was going\r
+down the dance. So he inquired who she was, and got introduced, and\r
+asked her for the two next. Then the two third he danced with Miss King,\r
+and the two fourth with Maria Lucas, and the two fifth with Jane again,\r
+and the two sixth with Lizzy, and the _Boulanger_--"\r
+\r
+"If he had had any compassion for _me_," cried her husband impatiently,\r
+"he would not have danced half so much! For God's sake, say no more of\r
+his partners. Oh that he had sprained his ankle in the first dance!"\r
+\r
+"Oh! my dear, I am quite delighted with him. He is so excessively\r
+handsome! And his sisters are charming women. I never in my life saw\r
+anything more elegant than their dresses. I dare say the lace upon Mrs.\r
+Hurst's gown--"\r
+\r
+Here she was interrupted again. Mr. Bennet protested against any\r
+description of finery. She was therefore obliged to seek another branch\r
+of the subject, and related, with much bitterness of spirit and some\r
+exaggeration, the shocking rudeness of Mr. Darcy.\r
+\r
+"But I can assure you," she added, "that Lizzy does not lose much by not\r
+suiting _his_ fancy; for he is a most disagreeable, horrid man, not at\r
+all worth pleasing. So high and so conceited that there was no enduring\r
+him! He walked here, and he walked there, fancying himself so very\r
+great! Not handsome enough to dance with! I wish you had been there, my\r
+dear, to have given him one of your set-downs. I quite detest the man."\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 4\r
+\r
+\r
+When Jane and Elizabeth were alone, the former, who had been cautious in\r
+her praise of Mr. Bingley before, expressed to her sister just how very\r
+much she admired him.\r
+\r
+"He is just what a young man ought to be," said she, "sensible,\r
+good-humoured, lively; and I never saw such happy manners!--so much\r
+ease, with such perfect good breeding!"\r
+\r
+"He is also handsome," replied Elizabeth, "which a young man ought\r
+likewise to be, if he possibly can. His character is thereby complete."\r
+\r
+"I was very much flattered by his asking me to dance a second time. I\r
+did not expect such a compliment."\r
+\r
+"Did not you? I did for you. But that is one great difference between\r
+us. Compliments always take _you_ by surprise, and _me_ never. What\r
+could be more natural than his asking you again? He could not help\r
+seeing that you were about five times as pretty as every other woman\r
+in the room. No thanks to his gallantry for that. Well, he certainly is\r
+very agreeable, and I give you leave to like him. You have liked many a\r
+stupider person."\r
+\r
+"Dear Lizzy!"\r
+\r
+"Oh! you are a great deal too apt, you know, to like people in general.\r
+You never see a fault in anybody. All the world are good and agreeable\r
+in your eyes. I never heard you speak ill of a human being in your\r
+life."\r
+\r
+"I would not wish to be hasty in censuring anyone; but I always speak\r
+what I think."\r
+\r
+"I know you do; and it is _that_ which makes the wonder. With _your_\r
+good sense, to be so honestly blind to the follies and nonsense of\r
+others! Affectation of candour is common enough--one meets with it\r
+everywhere. But to be candid without ostentation or design--to take the\r
+good of everybody's character and make it still better, and say nothing\r
+of the bad--belongs to you alone. And so you like this man's sisters,\r
+too, do you? Their manners are not equal to his."\r
+\r
+"Certainly not--at first. But they are very pleasing women when you\r
+converse with them. Miss Bingley is to live with her brother, and keep\r
+his house; and I am much mistaken if we shall not find a very charming\r
+neighbour in her."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth listened in silence, but was not convinced; their behaviour at\r
+the assembly had not been calculated to please in general; and with more\r
+quickness of observation and less pliancy of temper than her sister,\r
+and with a judgement too unassailed by any attention to herself, she\r
+was very little disposed to approve them. They were in fact very fine\r
+ladies; not deficient in good humour when they were pleased, nor in the\r
+power of making themselves agreeable when they chose it, but proud and\r
+conceited. They were rather handsome, had been educated in one of the\r
+first private seminaries in town, had a fortune of twenty thousand\r
+pounds, were in the habit of spending more than they ought, and of\r
+associating with people of rank, and were therefore in every respect\r
+entitled to think well of themselves, and meanly of others. They were of\r
+a respectable family in the north of England; a circumstance more deeply\r
+impressed on their memories than that their brother's fortune and their\r
+own had been acquired by trade.\r
+\r
+Mr. Bingley inherited property to the amount of nearly a hundred\r
+thousand pounds from his father, who had intended to purchase an\r
+estate, but did not live to do it. Mr. Bingley intended it likewise, and\r
+sometimes made choice of his county; but as he was now provided with a\r
+good house and the liberty of a manor, it was doubtful to many of those\r
+who best knew the easiness of his temper, whether he might not spend the\r
+remainder of his days at Netherfield, and leave the next generation to\r
+purchase.\r
+\r
+His sisters were anxious for his having an estate of his own; but,\r
+though he was now only established as a tenant, Miss Bingley was by no\r
+means unwilling to preside at his table--nor was Mrs. Hurst, who had\r
+married a man of more fashion than fortune, less disposed to consider\r
+his house as her home when it suited her. Mr. Bingley had not been of\r
+age two years, when he was tempted by an accidental recommendation\r
+to look at Netherfield House. He did look at it, and into it for\r
+half-an-hour--was pleased with the situation and the principal\r
+rooms, satisfied with what the owner said in its praise, and took it\r
+immediately.\r
+\r
+Between him and Darcy there was a very steady friendship, in spite of\r
+great opposition of character. Bingley was endeared to Darcy by the\r
+easiness, openness, and ductility of his temper, though no disposition\r
+could offer a greater contrast to his own, and though with his own he\r
+never appeared dissatisfied. On the strength of Darcy's regard, Bingley\r
+had the firmest reliance, and of his judgement the highest opinion.\r
+In understanding, Darcy was the superior. Bingley was by no means\r
+deficient, but Darcy was clever. He was at the same time haughty,\r
+reserved, and fastidious, and his manners, though well-bred, were not\r
+inviting. In that respect his friend had greatly the advantage. Bingley\r
+was sure of being liked wherever he appeared, Darcy was continually\r
+giving offense.\r
+\r
+The manner in which they spoke of the Meryton assembly was sufficiently\r
+characteristic. Bingley had never met with more pleasant people or\r
+prettier girls in his life; everybody had been most kind and attentive\r
+to him; there had been no formality, no stiffness; he had soon felt\r
+acquainted with all the room; and, as to Miss Bennet, he could not\r
+conceive an angel more beautiful. Darcy, on the contrary, had seen a\r
+collection of people in whom there was little beauty and no fashion, for\r
+none of whom he had felt the smallest interest, and from none received\r
+either attention or pleasure. Miss Bennet he acknowledged to be pretty,\r
+but she smiled too much.\r
+\r
+Mrs. Hurst and her sister allowed it to be so--but still they admired\r
+her and liked her, and pronounced her to be a sweet girl, and one\r
+whom they would not object to know more of. Miss Bennet was therefore\r
+established as a sweet girl, and their brother felt authorized by such\r
+commendation to think of her as he chose.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 5\r
+\r
+\r
+Within a short walk of Longbourn lived a family with whom the Bennets\r
+were particularly intimate. Sir William Lucas had been formerly in trade\r
+in Meryton, where he had made a tolerable fortune, and risen to the\r
+honour of knighthood by an address to the king during his mayoralty.\r
+The distinction had perhaps been felt too strongly. It had given him a\r
+disgust to his business, and to his residence in a small market town;\r
+and, in quitting them both, he had removed with his family to a house\r
+about a mile from Meryton, denominated from that period Lucas Lodge,\r
+where he could think with pleasure of his own importance, and,\r
+unshackled by business, occupy himself solely in being civil to all\r
+the world. For, though elated by his rank, it did not render him\r
+supercilious; on the contrary, he was all attention to everybody. By\r
+nature inoffensive, friendly, and obliging, his presentation at St.\r
+James's had made him courteous.\r
+\r
+Lady Lucas was a very good kind of woman, not too clever to be a\r
+valuable neighbour to Mrs. Bennet. They had several children. The eldest\r
+of them, a sensible, intelligent young woman, about twenty-seven, was\r
+Elizabeth's intimate friend.\r
+\r
+That the Miss Lucases and the Miss Bennets should meet to talk over\r
+a ball was absolutely necessary; and the morning after the assembly\r
+brought the former to Longbourn to hear and to communicate.\r
+\r
+"_You_ began the evening well, Charlotte," said Mrs. Bennet with civil\r
+self-command to Miss Lucas. "_You_ were Mr. Bingley's first choice."\r
+\r
+"Yes; but he seemed to like his second better."\r
+\r
+"Oh! you mean Jane, I suppose, because he danced with her twice. To be\r
+sure that _did_ seem as if he admired her--indeed I rather believe he\r
+_did_--I heard something about it--but I hardly know what--something\r
+about Mr. Robinson."\r
+\r
+"Perhaps you mean what I overheard between him and Mr. Robinson; did not\r
+I mention it to you? Mr. Robinson's asking him how he liked our Meryton\r
+assemblies, and whether he did not think there were a great many\r
+pretty women in the room, and _which_ he thought the prettiest? and his\r
+answering immediately to the last question: 'Oh! the eldest Miss Bennet,\r
+beyond a doubt; there cannot be two opinions on that point.'"\r
+\r
+"Upon my word! Well, that is very decided indeed--that does seem as\r
+if--but, however, it may all come to nothing, you know."\r
+\r
+"_My_ overhearings were more to the purpose than _yours_, Eliza," said\r
+Charlotte. "Mr. Darcy is not so well worth listening to as his friend,\r
+is he?--poor Eliza!--to be only just _tolerable_."\r
+\r
+"I beg you would not put it into Lizzy's head to be vexed by his\r
+ill-treatment, for he is such a disagreeable man, that it would be quite\r
+a misfortune to be liked by him. Mrs. Long told me last night that he\r
+sat close to her for half-an-hour without once opening his lips."\r
+\r
+"Are you quite sure, ma'am?--is not there a little mistake?" said Jane.\r
+"I certainly saw Mr. Darcy speaking to her."\r
+\r
+"Aye--because she asked him at last how he liked Netherfield, and he\r
+could not help answering her; but she said he seemed quite angry at\r
+being spoke to."\r
+\r
+"Miss Bingley told me," said Jane, "that he never speaks much,\r
+unless among his intimate acquaintances. With _them_ he is remarkably\r
+agreeable."\r
+\r
+"I do not believe a word of it, my dear. If he had been so very\r
+agreeable, he would have talked to Mrs. Long. But I can guess how it\r
+was; everybody says that he is eat up with pride, and I dare say he had\r
+heard somehow that Mrs. Long does not keep a carriage, and had come to\r
+the ball in a hack chaise."\r
+\r
+"I do not mind his not talking to Mrs. Long," said Miss Lucas, "but I\r
+wish he had danced with Eliza."\r
+\r
+"Another time, Lizzy," said her mother, "I would not dance with _him_,\r
+if I were you."\r
+\r
+"I believe, ma'am, I may safely promise you _never_ to dance with him."\r
+\r
+"His pride," said Miss Lucas, "does not offend _me_ so much as pride\r
+often does, because there is an excuse for it. One cannot wonder that so\r
+very fine a young man, with family, fortune, everything in his favour,\r
+should think highly of himself. If I may so express it, he has a _right_\r
+to be proud."\r
+\r
+"That is very true," replied Elizabeth, "and I could easily forgive\r
+_his_ pride, if he had not mortified _mine_."\r
+\r
+"Pride," observed Mary, who piqued herself upon the solidity of her\r
+reflections, "is a very common failing, I believe. By all that I have\r
+ever read, I am convinced that it is very common indeed; that human\r
+nature is particularly prone to it, and that there are very few of us\r
+who do not cherish a feeling of self-complacency on the score of some\r
+quality or other, real or imaginary. Vanity and pride are different\r
+things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may\r
+be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of\r
+ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us."\r
+\r
+"If I were as rich as Mr. Darcy," cried a young Lucas, who came with\r
+his sisters, "I should not care how proud I was. I would keep a pack of\r
+foxhounds, and drink a bottle of wine a day."\r
+\r
+"Then you would drink a great deal more than you ought," said Mrs.\r
+Bennet; "and if I were to see you at it, I should take away your bottle\r
+directly."\r
+\r
+The boy protested that she should not; she continued to declare that she\r
+would, and the argument ended only with the visit.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 6\r
+\r
+\r
+The ladies of Longbourn soon waited on those of Netherfield. The visit\r
+was soon returned in due form. Miss Bennet's pleasing manners grew on\r
+the goodwill of Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley; and though the mother was\r
+found to be intolerable, and the younger sisters not worth speaking to,\r
+a wish of being better acquainted with _them_ was expressed towards\r
+the two eldest. By Jane, this attention was received with the greatest\r
+pleasure, but Elizabeth still saw superciliousness in their treatment\r
+of everybody, hardly excepting even her sister, and could not like them;\r
+though their kindness to Jane, such as it was, had a value as arising in\r
+all probability from the influence of their brother's admiration. It\r
+was generally evident whenever they met, that he _did_ admire her and\r
+to _her_ it was equally evident that Jane was yielding to the preference\r
+which she had begun to entertain for him from the first, and was in a\r
+way to be very much in love; but she considered with pleasure that it\r
+was not likely to be discovered by the world in general, since Jane\r
+united, with great strength of feeling, a composure of temper and a\r
+uniform cheerfulness of manner which would guard her from the suspicions\r
+of the impertinent. She mentioned this to her friend Miss Lucas.\r
+\r
+"It may perhaps be pleasant," replied Charlotte, "to be able to impose\r
+on the public in such a case; but it is sometimes a disadvantage to be\r
+so very guarded. If a woman conceals her affection with the same skill\r
+from the object of it, she may lose the opportunity of fixing him; and\r
+it will then be but poor consolation to believe the world equally in\r
+the dark. There is so much of gratitude or vanity in almost every\r
+attachment, that it is not safe to leave any to itself. We can all\r
+_begin_ freely--a slight preference is natural enough; but there are\r
+very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without\r
+encouragement. In nine cases out of ten a women had better show _more_\r
+affection than she feels. Bingley likes your sister undoubtedly; but he\r
+may never do more than like her, if she does not help him on."\r
+\r
+"But she does help him on, as much as her nature will allow. If I can\r
+perceive her regard for him, he must be a simpleton, indeed, not to\r
+discover it too."\r
+\r
+"Remember, Eliza, that he does not know Jane's disposition as you do."\r
+\r
+"But if a woman is partial to a man, and does not endeavour to conceal\r
+it, he must find it out."\r
+\r
+"Perhaps he must, if he sees enough of her. But, though Bingley and Jane\r
+meet tolerably often, it is never for many hours together; and, as they\r
+always see each other in large mixed parties, it is impossible that\r
+every moment should be employed in conversing together. Jane should\r
+therefore make the most of every half-hour in which she can command his\r
+attention. When she is secure of him, there will be more leisure for\r
+falling in love as much as she chooses."\r
+\r
+"Your plan is a good one," replied Elizabeth, "where nothing is in\r
+question but the desire of being well married, and if I were determined\r
+to get a rich husband, or any husband, I dare say I should adopt it. But\r
+these are not Jane's feelings; she is not acting by design. As yet,\r
+she cannot even be certain of the degree of her own regard nor of its\r
+reasonableness. She has known him only a fortnight. She danced four\r
+dances with him at Meryton; she saw him one morning at his own house,\r
+and has since dined with him in company four times. This is not quite\r
+enough to make her understand his character."\r
+\r
+"Not as you represent it. Had she merely _dined_ with him, she might\r
+only have discovered whether he had a good appetite; but you must\r
+remember that four evenings have also been spent together--and four\r
+evenings may do a great deal."\r
+\r
+"Yes; these four evenings have enabled them to ascertain that they\r
+both like Vingt-un better than Commerce; but with respect to any other\r
+leading characteristic, I do not imagine that much has been unfolded."\r
+\r
+"Well," said Charlotte, "I wish Jane success with all my heart; and\r
+if she were married to him to-morrow, I should think she had as good a\r
+chance of happiness as if she were to be studying his character for a\r
+twelvemonth. Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. If\r
+the dispositions of the parties are ever so well known to each other or\r
+ever so similar beforehand, it does not advance their felicity in the\r
+least. They always continue to grow sufficiently unlike afterwards to\r
+have their share of vexation; and it is better to know as little as\r
+possible of the defects of the person with whom you are to pass your\r
+life."\r
+\r
+"You make me laugh, Charlotte; but it is not sound. You know it is not\r
+sound, and that you would never act in this way yourself."\r
+\r
+Occupied in observing Mr. Bingley's attentions to her sister, Elizabeth\r
+was far from suspecting that she was herself becoming an object of some\r
+interest in the eyes of his friend. Mr. Darcy had at first scarcely\r
+allowed her to be pretty; he had looked at her without admiration at the\r
+ball; and when they next met, he looked at her only to criticise. But no\r
+sooner had he made it clear to himself and his friends that she hardly\r
+had a good feature in her face, than he began to find it was rendered\r
+uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes. To\r
+this discovery succeeded some others equally mortifying. Though he had\r
+detected with a critical eye more than one failure of perfect symmetry\r
+in her form, he was forced to acknowledge her figure to be light and\r
+pleasing; and in spite of his asserting that her manners were not those\r
+of the fashionable world, he was caught by their easy playfulness. Of\r
+this she was perfectly unaware; to her he was only the man who made\r
+himself agreeable nowhere, and who had not thought her handsome enough\r
+to dance with.\r
+\r
+He began to wish to know more of her, and as a step towards conversing\r
+with her himself, attended to her conversation with others. His doing so\r
+drew her notice. It was at Sir William Lucas's, where a large party were\r
+assembled.\r
+\r
+"What does Mr. Darcy mean," said she to Charlotte, "by listening to my\r
+conversation with Colonel Forster?"\r
+\r
+"That is a question which Mr. Darcy only can answer."\r
+\r
+"But if he does it any more I shall certainly let him know that I see\r
+what he is about. He has a very satirical eye, and if I do not begin by\r
+being impertinent myself, I shall soon grow afraid of him."\r
+\r
+On his approaching them soon afterwards, though without seeming to have\r
+any intention of speaking, Miss Lucas defied her friend to mention such\r
+a subject to him; which immediately provoking Elizabeth to do it, she\r
+turned to him and said:\r
+\r
+"Did you not think, Mr. Darcy, that I expressed myself uncommonly\r
+well just now, when I was teasing Colonel Forster to give us a ball at\r
+Meryton?"\r
+\r
+"With great energy; but it is always a subject which makes a lady\r
+energetic."\r
+\r
+"You are severe on us."\r
+\r
+"It will be _her_ turn soon to be teased," said Miss Lucas. "I am going\r
+to open the instrument, Eliza, and you know what follows."\r
+\r
+"You are a very strange creature by way of a friend!--always wanting me\r
+to play and sing before anybody and everybody! If my vanity had taken\r
+a musical turn, you would have been invaluable; but as it is, I would\r
+really rather not sit down before those who must be in the habit of\r
+hearing the very best performers." On Miss Lucas's persevering, however,\r
+she added, "Very well, if it must be so, it must." And gravely glancing\r
+at Mr. Darcy, "There is a fine old saying, which everybody here is of\r
+course familiar with: 'Keep your breath to cool your porridge'; and I\r
+shall keep mine to swell my song."\r
+\r
+Her performance was pleasing, though by no means capital. After a song\r
+or two, and before she could reply to the entreaties of several that\r
+she would sing again, she was eagerly succeeded at the instrument by her\r
+sister Mary, who having, in consequence of being the only plain one in\r
+the family, worked hard for knowledge and accomplishments, was always\r
+impatient for display.\r
+\r
+Mary had neither genius nor taste; and though vanity had given her\r
+application, it had given her likewise a pedantic air and conceited\r
+manner, which would have injured a higher degree of excellence than she\r
+had reached. Elizabeth, easy and unaffected, had been listened to with\r
+much more pleasure, though not playing half so well; and Mary, at the\r
+end of a long concerto, was glad to purchase praise and gratitude by\r
+Scotch and Irish airs, at the request of her younger sisters, who,\r
+with some of the Lucases, and two or three officers, joined eagerly in\r
+dancing at one end of the room.\r
+\r
+Mr. Darcy stood near them in silent indignation at such a mode of\r
+passing the evening, to the exclusion of all conversation, and was too\r
+much engrossed by his thoughts to perceive that Sir William Lucas was\r
+his neighbour, till Sir William thus began:\r
+\r
+"What a charming amusement for young people this is, Mr. Darcy! There\r
+is nothing like dancing after all. I consider it as one of the first\r
+refinements of polished society."\r
+\r
+"Certainly, sir; and it has the advantage also of being in vogue amongst\r
+the less polished societies of the world. Every savage can dance."\r
+\r
+Sir William only smiled. "Your friend performs delightfully," he\r
+continued after a pause, on seeing Bingley join the group; "and I doubt\r
+not that you are an adept in the science yourself, Mr. Darcy."\r
+\r
+"You saw me dance at Meryton, I believe, sir."\r
+\r
+"Yes, indeed, and received no inconsiderable pleasure from the sight. Do\r
+you often dance at St. James's?"\r
+\r
+"Never, sir."\r
+\r
+"Do you not think it would be a proper compliment to the place?"\r
+\r
+"It is a compliment which I never pay to any place if I can avoid it."\r
+\r
+"You have a house in town, I conclude?"\r
+\r
+Mr. Darcy bowed.\r
+\r
+"I had once had some thought of fixing in town myself--for I am fond\r
+of superior society; but I did not feel quite certain that the air of\r
+London would agree with Lady Lucas."\r
+\r
+He paused in hopes of an answer; but his companion was not disposed\r
+to make any; and Elizabeth at that instant moving towards them, he was\r
+struck with the action of doing a very gallant thing, and called out to\r
+her:\r
+\r
+"My dear Miss Eliza, why are you not dancing? Mr. Darcy, you must allow\r
+me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner. You\r
+cannot refuse to dance, I am sure when so much beauty is before you."\r
+And, taking her hand, he would have given it to Mr. Darcy who, though\r
+extremely surprised, was not unwilling to receive it, when she instantly\r
+drew back, and said with some discomposure to Sir William:\r
+\r
+"Indeed, sir, I have not the least intention of dancing. I entreat you\r
+not to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg for a partner."\r
+\r
+Mr. Darcy, with grave propriety, requested to be allowed the honour of\r
+her hand, but in vain. Elizabeth was determined; nor did Sir William at\r
+all shake her purpose by his attempt at persuasion.\r
+\r
+"You excel so much in the dance, Miss Eliza, that it is cruel to deny\r
+me the happiness of seeing you; and though this gentleman dislikes the\r
+amusement in general, he can have no objection, I am sure, to oblige us\r
+for one half-hour."\r
+\r
+"Mr. Darcy is all politeness," said Elizabeth, smiling.\r
+\r
+"He is, indeed; but, considering the inducement, my dear Miss Eliza,\r
+we cannot wonder at his complaisance--for who would object to such a\r
+partner?"\r
+\r
+Elizabeth looked archly, and turned away. Her resistance had not\r
+injured her with the gentleman, and he was thinking of her with some\r
+complacency, when thus accosted by Miss Bingley:\r
+\r
+"I can guess the subject of your reverie."\r
+\r
+"I should imagine not."\r
+\r
+"You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings\r
+in this manner--in such society; and indeed I am quite of your opinion.\r
+I was never more annoyed! The insipidity, and yet the noise--the\r
+nothingness, and yet the self-importance of all those people! What would\r
+I give to hear your strictures on them!"\r
+\r
+"Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more\r
+agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great pleasure\r
+which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow."\r
+\r
+Miss Bingley immediately fixed her eyes on his face, and desired he\r
+would tell her what lady had the credit of inspiring such reflections.\r
+Mr. Darcy replied with great intrepidity:\r
+\r
+"Miss Elizabeth Bennet."\r
+\r
+"Miss Elizabeth Bennet!" repeated Miss Bingley. "I am all astonishment.\r
+How long has she been such a favourite?--and pray, when am I to wish you\r
+joy?"\r
+\r
+"That is exactly the question which I expected you to ask. A lady's\r
+imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love\r
+to matrimony, in a moment. I knew you would be wishing me joy."\r
+\r
+"Nay, if you are serious about it, I shall consider the matter is\r
+absolutely settled. You will be having a charming mother-in-law, indeed;\r
+and, of course, she will always be at Pemberley with you."\r
+\r
+He listened to her with perfect indifference while she chose to\r
+entertain herself in this manner; and as his composure convinced her\r
+that all was safe, her wit flowed long.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 7\r
+\r
+\r
+Mr. Bennet's property consisted almost entirely in an estate of two\r
+thousand a year, which, unfortunately for his daughters, was entailed,\r
+in default of heirs male, on a distant relation; and their mother's\r
+fortune, though ample for her situation in life, could but ill supply\r
+the deficiency of his. Her father had been an attorney in Meryton, and\r
+had left her four thousand pounds.\r
+\r
+She had a sister married to a Mr. Phillips, who had been a clerk to\r
+their father and succeeded him in the business, and a brother settled in\r
+London in a respectable line of trade.\r
+\r
+The village of Longbourn was only one mile from Meryton; a most\r
+convenient distance for the young ladies, who were usually tempted\r
+thither three or four times a week, to pay their duty to their aunt and\r
+to a milliner's shop just over the way. The two youngest of the family,\r
+Catherine and Lydia, were particularly frequent in these attentions;\r
+their minds were more vacant than their sisters', and when nothing\r
+better offered, a walk to Meryton was necessary to amuse their morning\r
+hours and furnish conversation for the evening; and however bare of news\r
+the country in general might be, they always contrived to learn some\r
+from their aunt. At present, indeed, they were well supplied both with\r
+news and happiness by the recent arrival of a militia regiment in the\r
+neighbourhood; it was to remain the whole winter, and Meryton was the\r
+headquarters.\r
+\r
+Their visits to Mrs. Phillips were now productive of the most\r
+interesting intelligence. Every day added something to their knowledge\r
+of the officers' names and connections. Their lodgings were not long a\r
+secret, and at length they began to know the officers themselves. Mr.\r
+Phillips visited them all, and this opened to his nieces a store of\r
+felicity unknown before. They could talk of nothing but officers; and\r
+Mr. Bingley's large fortune, the mention of which gave animation\r
+to their mother, was worthless in their eyes when opposed to the\r
+regimentals of an ensign.\r
+\r
+After listening one morning to their effusions on this subject, Mr.\r
+Bennet coolly observed:\r
+\r
+"From all that I can collect by your manner of talking, you must be two\r
+of the silliest girls in the country. I have suspected it some time, but\r
+I am now convinced."\r
+\r
+Catherine was disconcerted, and made no answer; but Lydia, with perfect\r
+indifference, continued to express her admiration of Captain Carter,\r
+and her hope of seeing him in the course of the day, as he was going the\r
+next morning to London.\r
+\r
+"I am astonished, my dear," said Mrs. Bennet, "that you should be so\r
+ready to think your own children silly. If I wished to think slightingly\r
+of anybody's children, it should not be of my own, however."\r
+\r
+"If my children are silly, I must hope to be always sensible of it."\r
+\r
+"Yes--but as it happens, they are all of them very clever."\r
+\r
+"This is the only point, I flatter myself, on which we do not agree. I\r
+had hoped that our sentiments coincided in every particular, but I must\r
+so far differ from you as to think our two youngest daughters uncommonly\r
+foolish."\r
+\r
+"My dear Mr. Bennet, you must not expect such girls to have the sense of\r
+their father and mother. When they get to our age, I dare say they will\r
+not think about officers any more than we do. I remember the time when\r
+I liked a red coat myself very well--and, indeed, so I do still at my\r
+heart; and if a smart young colonel, with five or six thousand a year,\r
+should want one of my girls I shall not say nay to him; and I thought\r
+Colonel Forster looked very becoming the other night at Sir William's in\r
+his regimentals."\r
+\r
+"Mamma," cried Lydia, "my aunt says that Colonel Forster and Captain\r
+Carter do not go so often to Miss Watson's as they did when they first\r
+came; she sees them now very often standing in Clarke's library."\r
+\r
+Mrs. Bennet was prevented replying by the entrance of the footman with\r
+a note for Miss Bennet; it came from Netherfield, and the servant waited\r
+for an answer. Mrs. Bennet's eyes sparkled with pleasure, and she was\r
+eagerly calling out, while her daughter read,\r
+\r
+"Well, Jane, who is it from? What is it about? What does he say? Well,\r
+Jane, make haste and tell us; make haste, my love."\r
+\r
+"It is from Miss Bingley," said Jane, and then read it aloud.\r
+\r
+"MY DEAR FRIEND,--\r
+\r
+"If you are not so compassionate as to dine to-day with Louisa and me,\r
+we shall be in danger of hating each other for the rest of our lives,\r
+for a whole day's tete-a-tete between two women can never end without a\r
+quarrel. Come as soon as you can on receipt of this. My brother and the\r
+gentlemen are to dine with the officers.--Yours ever,\r
+\r
+"CAROLINE BINGLEY"\r
+\r
+"With the officers!" cried Lydia. "I wonder my aunt did not tell us of\r
+_that_."\r
+\r
+"Dining out," said Mrs. Bennet, "that is very unlucky."\r
+\r
+"Can I have the carriage?" said Jane.\r
+\r
+"No, my dear, you had better go on horseback, because it seems likely to\r
+rain; and then you must stay all night."\r
+\r
+"That would be a good scheme," said Elizabeth, "if you were sure that\r
+they would not offer to send her home."\r
+\r
+"Oh! but the gentlemen will have Mr. Bingley's chaise to go to Meryton,\r
+and the Hursts have no horses to theirs."\r
+\r
+"I had much rather go in the coach."\r
+\r
+"But, my dear, your father cannot spare the horses, I am sure. They are\r
+wanted in the farm, Mr. Bennet, are they not?"\r
+\r
+"They are wanted in the farm much oftener than I can get them."\r
+\r
+"But if you have got them to-day," said Elizabeth, "my mother's purpose\r
+will be answered."\r
+\r
+She did at last extort from her father an acknowledgment that the horses\r
+were engaged. Jane was therefore obliged to go on horseback, and her\r
+mother attended her to the door with many cheerful prognostics of a\r
+bad day. Her hopes were answered; Jane had not been gone long before\r
+it rained hard. Her sisters were uneasy for her, but her mother was\r
+delighted. The rain continued the whole evening without intermission;\r
+Jane certainly could not come back.\r
+\r
+"This was a lucky idea of mine, indeed!" said Mrs. Bennet more than\r
+once, as if the credit of making it rain were all her own. Till the\r
+next morning, however, she was not aware of all the felicity of her\r
+contrivance. Breakfast was scarcely over when a servant from Netherfield\r
+brought the following note for Elizabeth:\r
+\r
+"MY DEAREST LIZZY,--\r
+\r
+"I find myself very unwell this morning, which, I suppose, is to be\r
+imputed to my getting wet through yesterday. My kind friends will not\r
+hear of my returning till I am better. They insist also on my seeing Mr.\r
+Jones--therefore do not be alarmed if you should hear of his having been\r
+to me--and, excepting a sore throat and headache, there is not much the\r
+matter with me.--Yours, etc."\r
+\r
+"Well, my dear," said Mr. Bennet, when Elizabeth had read the note\r
+aloud, "if your daughter should have a dangerous fit of illness--if she\r
+should die, it would be a comfort to know that it was all in pursuit of\r
+Mr. Bingley, and under your orders."\r
+\r
+"Oh! I am not afraid of her dying. People do not die of little trifling\r
+colds. She will be taken good care of. As long as she stays there, it is\r
+all very well. I would go and see her if I could have the carriage."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth, feeling really anxious, was determined to go to her, though\r
+the carriage was not to be had; and as she was no horsewoman, walking\r
+was her only alternative. She declared her resolution.\r
+\r
+"How can you be so silly," cried her mother, "as to think of such a\r
+thing, in all this dirt! You will not be fit to be seen when you get\r
+there."\r
+\r
+"I shall be very fit to see Jane--which is all I want."\r
+\r
+"Is this a hint to me, Lizzy," said her father, "to send for the\r
+horses?"\r
+\r
+"No, indeed, I do not wish to avoid the walk. The distance is nothing\r
+when one has a motive; only three miles. I shall be back by dinner."\r
+\r
+"I admire the activity of your benevolence," observed Mary, "but every\r
+impulse of feeling should be guided by reason; and, in my opinion,\r
+exertion should always be in proportion to what is required."\r
+\r
+"We will go as far as Meryton with you," said Catherine and Lydia.\r
+Elizabeth accepted their company, and the three young ladies set off\r
+together.\r
+\r
+"If we make haste," said Lydia, as they walked along, "perhaps we may\r
+see something of Captain Carter before he goes."\r
+\r
+In Meryton they parted; the two youngest repaired to the lodgings of one\r
+of the officers' wives, and Elizabeth continued her walk alone, crossing\r
+field after field at a quick pace, jumping over stiles and springing\r
+over puddles with impatient activity, and finding herself at last\r
+within view of the house, with weary ankles, dirty stockings, and a face\r
+glowing with the warmth of exercise.\r
+\r
+She was shown into the breakfast-parlour, where all but Jane were\r
+assembled, and where her appearance created a great deal of surprise.\r
+That she should have walked three miles so early in the day, in such\r
+dirty weather, and by herself, was almost incredible to Mrs. Hurst and\r
+Miss Bingley; and Elizabeth was convinced that they held her in contempt\r
+for it. She was received, however, very politely by them; and in their\r
+brother's manners there was something better than politeness; there\r
+was good humour and kindness. Mr. Darcy said very little, and Mr.\r
+Hurst nothing at all. The former was divided between admiration of the\r
+brilliancy which exercise had given to her complexion, and doubt as\r
+to the occasion's justifying her coming so far alone. The latter was\r
+thinking only of his breakfast.\r
+\r
+Her inquiries after her sister were not very favourably answered. Miss\r
+Bennet had slept ill, and though up, was very feverish, and not\r
+well enough to leave her room. Elizabeth was glad to be taken to her\r
+immediately; and Jane, who had only been withheld by the fear of giving\r
+alarm or inconvenience from expressing in her note how much she longed\r
+for such a visit, was delighted at her entrance. She was not equal,\r
+however, to much conversation, and when Miss Bingley left them\r
+together, could attempt little besides expressions of gratitude for the\r
+extraordinary kindness she was treated with. Elizabeth silently attended\r
+her.\r
+\r
+When breakfast was over they were joined by the sisters; and Elizabeth\r
+began to like them herself, when she saw how much affection and\r
+solicitude they showed for Jane. The apothecary came, and having\r
+examined his patient, said, as might be supposed, that she had caught\r
+a violent cold, and that they must endeavour to get the better of it;\r
+advised her to return to bed, and promised her some draughts. The advice\r
+was followed readily, for the feverish symptoms increased, and her head\r
+ached acutely. Elizabeth did not quit her room for a moment; nor were\r
+the other ladies often absent; the gentlemen being out, they had, in\r
+fact, nothing to do elsewhere.\r
+\r
+When the clock struck three, Elizabeth felt that she must go, and very\r
+unwillingly said so. Miss Bingley offered her the carriage, and she only\r
+wanted a little pressing to accept it, when Jane testified such concern\r
+in parting with her, that Miss Bingley was obliged to convert the offer\r
+of the chaise to an invitation to remain at Netherfield for the present.\r
+Elizabeth most thankfully consented, and a servant was dispatched to\r
+Longbourn to acquaint the family with her stay and bring back a supply\r
+of clothes.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 8\r
+\r
+\r
+At five o'clock the two ladies retired to dress, and at half-past six\r
+Elizabeth was summoned to dinner. To the civil inquiries which then\r
+poured in, and amongst which she had the pleasure of distinguishing the\r
+much superior solicitude of Mr. Bingley's, she could not make a very\r
+favourable answer. Jane was by no means better. The sisters, on hearing\r
+this, repeated three or four times how much they were grieved, how\r
+shocking it was to have a bad cold, and how excessively they disliked\r
+being ill themselves; and then thought no more of the matter: and their\r
+indifference towards Jane when not immediately before them restored\r
+Elizabeth to the enjoyment of all her former dislike.\r
+\r
+Their brother, indeed, was the only one of the party whom she could\r
+regard with any complacency. His anxiety for Jane was evident, and his\r
+attentions to herself most pleasing, and they prevented her feeling\r
+herself so much an intruder as she believed she was considered by the\r
+others. She had very little notice from any but him. Miss Bingley was\r
+engrossed by Mr. Darcy, her sister scarcely less so; and as for Mr.\r
+Hurst, by whom Elizabeth sat, he was an indolent man, who lived only to\r
+eat, drink, and play at cards; who, when he found her to prefer a plain\r
+dish to a ragout, had nothing to say to her.\r
+\r
+When dinner was over, she returned directly to Jane, and Miss Bingley\r
+began abusing her as soon as she was out of the room. Her manners were\r
+pronounced to be very bad indeed, a mixture of pride and impertinence;\r
+she had no conversation, no style, no beauty. Mrs. Hurst thought the\r
+same, and added:\r
+\r
+"She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an excellent\r
+walker. I shall never forget her appearance this morning. She really\r
+looked almost wild."\r
+\r
+"She did, indeed, Louisa. I could hardly keep my countenance. Very\r
+nonsensical to come at all! Why must _she_ be scampering about the\r
+country, because her sister had a cold? Her hair, so untidy, so blowsy!"\r
+\r
+"Yes, and her petticoat; I hope you saw her petticoat, six inches deep\r
+in mud, I am absolutely certain; and the gown which had been let down to\r
+hide it not doing its office."\r
+\r
+"Your picture may be very exact, Louisa," said Bingley; "but this was\r
+all lost upon me. I thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked remarkably\r
+well when she came into the room this morning. Her dirty petticoat quite\r
+escaped my notice."\r
+\r
+"_You_ observed it, Mr. Darcy, I am sure," said Miss Bingley; "and I am\r
+inclined to think that you would not wish to see _your_ sister make such\r
+an exhibition."\r
+\r
+"Certainly not."\r
+\r
+"To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is,\r
+above her ankles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! What could she mean by\r
+it? It seems to me to show an abominable sort of conceited independence,\r
+a most country-town indifference to decorum."\r
+\r
+"It shows an affection for her sister that is very pleasing," said\r
+Bingley.\r
+\r
+"I am afraid, Mr. Darcy," observed Miss Bingley in a half whisper, "that\r
+this adventure has rather affected your admiration of her fine eyes."\r
+\r
+"Not at all," he replied; "they were brightened by the exercise." A\r
+short pause followed this speech, and Mrs. Hurst began again:\r
+\r
+"I have an excessive regard for Miss Jane Bennet, she is really a very\r
+sweet girl, and I wish with all my heart she were well settled. But with\r
+such a father and mother, and such low connections, I am afraid there is\r
+no chance of it."\r
+\r
+"I think I have heard you say that their uncle is an attorney in\r
+Meryton."\r
+\r
+"Yes; and they have another, who lives somewhere near Cheapside."\r
+\r
+"That is capital," added her sister, and they both laughed heartily.\r
+\r
+"If they had uncles enough to fill _all_ Cheapside," cried Bingley, "it\r
+would not make them one jot less agreeable."\r
+\r
+"But it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men of any\r
+consideration in the world," replied Darcy.\r
+\r
+To this speech Bingley made no answer; but his sisters gave it their\r
+hearty assent, and indulged their mirth for some time at the expense of\r
+their dear friend's vulgar relations.\r
+\r
+With a renewal of tenderness, however, they returned to her room on\r
+leaving the dining-parlour, and sat with her till summoned to coffee.\r
+She was still very poorly, and Elizabeth would not quit her at all, till\r
+late in the evening, when she had the comfort of seeing her sleep, and\r
+when it seemed to her rather right than pleasant that she should go\r
+downstairs herself. On entering the drawing-room she found the whole\r
+party at loo, and was immediately invited to join them; but suspecting\r
+them to be playing high she declined it, and making her sister the\r
+excuse, said she would amuse herself for the short time she could stay\r
+below, with a book. Mr. Hurst looked at her with astonishment.\r
+\r
+"Do you prefer reading to cards?" said he; "that is rather singular."\r
+\r
+"Miss Eliza Bennet," said Miss Bingley, "despises cards. She is a great\r
+reader, and has no pleasure in anything else."\r
+\r
+"I deserve neither such praise nor such censure," cried Elizabeth; "I am\r
+_not_ a great reader, and I have pleasure in many things."\r
+\r
+"In nursing your sister I am sure you have pleasure," said Bingley; "and\r
+I hope it will be soon increased by seeing her quite well."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth thanked him from her heart, and then walked towards the\r
+table where a few books were lying. He immediately offered to fetch her\r
+others--all that his library afforded.\r
+\r
+"And I wish my collection were larger for your benefit and my own\r
+credit; but I am an idle fellow, and though I have not many, I have more\r
+than I ever looked into."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth assured him that she could suit herself perfectly with those\r
+in the room.\r
+\r
+"I am astonished," said Miss Bingley, "that my father should have left\r
+so small a collection of books. What a delightful library you have at\r
+Pemberley, Mr. Darcy!"\r
+\r
+"It ought to be good," he replied, "it has been the work of many\r
+generations."\r
+\r
+"And then you have added so much to it yourself, you are always buying\r
+books."\r
+\r
+"I cannot comprehend the neglect of a family library in such days as\r
+these."\r
+\r
+"Neglect! I am sure you neglect nothing that can add to the beauties of\r
+that noble place. Charles, when you build _your_ house, I wish it may be\r
+half as delightful as Pemberley."\r
+\r
+"I wish it may."\r
+\r
+"But I would really advise you to make your purchase in that\r
+neighbourhood, and take Pemberley for a kind of model. There is not a\r
+finer county in England than Derbyshire."\r
+\r
+"With all my heart; I will buy Pemberley itself if Darcy will sell it."\r
+\r
+"I am talking of possibilities, Charles."\r
+\r
+"Upon my word, Caroline, I should think it more possible to get\r
+Pemberley by purchase than by imitation."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth was so much caught with what passed, as to leave her very\r
+little attention for her book; and soon laying it wholly aside, she drew\r
+near the card-table, and stationed herself between Mr. Bingley and his\r
+eldest sister, to observe the game.\r
+\r
+"Is Miss Darcy much grown since the spring?" said Miss Bingley; "will\r
+she be as tall as I am?"\r
+\r
+"I think she will. She is now about Miss Elizabeth Bennet's height, or\r
+rather taller."\r
+\r
+"How I long to see her again! I never met with anybody who delighted me\r
+so much. Such a countenance, such manners! And so extremely accomplished\r
+for her age! Her performance on the pianoforte is exquisite."\r
+\r
+"It is amazing to me," said Bingley, "how young ladies can have patience\r
+to be so very accomplished as they all are."\r
+\r
+"All young ladies accomplished! My dear Charles, what do you mean?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, all of them, I think. They all paint tables, cover screens, and\r
+net purses. I scarcely know anyone who cannot do all this, and I am sure\r
+I never heard a young lady spoken of for the first time, without being\r
+informed that she was very accomplished."\r
+\r
+"Your list of the common extent of accomplishments," said Darcy, "has\r
+too much truth. The word is applied to many a woman who deserves it no\r
+otherwise than by netting a purse or covering a screen. But I am very\r
+far from agreeing with you in your estimation of ladies in general. I\r
+cannot boast of knowing more than half-a-dozen, in the whole range of my\r
+acquaintance, that are really accomplished."\r
+\r
+"Nor I, I am sure," said Miss Bingley.\r
+\r
+"Then," observed Elizabeth, "you must comprehend a great deal in your\r
+idea of an accomplished woman."\r
+\r
+"Yes, I do comprehend a great deal in it."\r
+\r
+"Oh! certainly," cried his faithful assistant, "no one can be really\r
+esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what is usually met\r
+with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing,\r
+dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word; and besides\r
+all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of\r
+walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word\r
+will be but half-deserved."\r
+\r
+"All this she must possess," added Darcy, "and to all this she must\r
+yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by\r
+extensive reading."\r
+\r
+"I am no longer surprised at your knowing _only_ six accomplished women.\r
+I rather wonder now at your knowing _any_."\r
+\r
+"Are you so severe upon your own sex as to doubt the possibility of all\r
+this?"\r
+\r
+"I never saw such a woman. I never saw such capacity, and taste, and\r
+application, and elegance, as you describe united."\r
+\r
+Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley both cried out against the injustice of her\r
+implied doubt, and were both protesting that they knew many women who\r
+answered this description, when Mr. Hurst called them to order, with\r
+bitter complaints of their inattention to what was going forward. As all\r
+conversation was thereby at an end, Elizabeth soon afterwards left the\r
+room.\r
+\r
+"Elizabeth Bennet," said Miss Bingley, when the door was closed on her,\r
+"is one of those young ladies who seek to recommend themselves to the\r
+other sex by undervaluing their own; and with many men, I dare say, it\r
+succeeds. But, in my opinion, it is a paltry device, a very mean art."\r
+\r
+"Undoubtedly," replied Darcy, to whom this remark was chiefly addressed,\r
+"there is a meanness in _all_ the arts which ladies sometimes condescend\r
+to employ for captivation. Whatever bears affinity to cunning is\r
+despicable."\r
+\r
+Miss Bingley was not so entirely satisfied with this reply as to\r
+continue the subject.\r
+\r
+Elizabeth joined them again only to say that her sister was worse, and\r
+that she could not leave her. Bingley urged Mr. Jones being sent for\r
+immediately; while his sisters, convinced that no country advice could\r
+be of any service, recommended an express to town for one of the most\r
+eminent physicians. This she would not hear of; but she was not so\r
+unwilling to comply with their brother's proposal; and it was settled\r
+that Mr. Jones should be sent for early in the morning, if Miss Bennet\r
+were not decidedly better. Bingley was quite uncomfortable; his sisters\r
+declared that they were miserable. They solaced their wretchedness,\r
+however, by duets after supper, while he could find no better relief\r
+to his feelings than by giving his housekeeper directions that every\r
+attention might be paid to the sick lady and her sister.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 9\r
+\r
+\r
+Elizabeth passed the chief of the night in her sister's room, and in the\r
+morning had the pleasure of being able to send a tolerable answer to the\r
+inquiries which she very early received from Mr. Bingley by a housemaid,\r
+and some time afterwards from the two elegant ladies who waited on his\r
+sisters. In spite of this amendment, however, she requested to have a\r
+note sent to Longbourn, desiring her mother to visit Jane, and form her\r
+own judgement of her situation. The note was immediately dispatched, and\r
+its contents as quickly complied with. Mrs. Bennet, accompanied by her\r
+two youngest girls, reached Netherfield soon after the family breakfast.\r
+\r
+Had she found Jane in any apparent danger, Mrs. Bennet would have been\r
+very miserable; but being satisfied on seeing her that her illness was\r
+not alarming, she had no wish of her recovering immediately, as her\r
+restoration to health would probably remove her from Netherfield. She\r
+would not listen, therefore, to her daughter's proposal of being carried\r
+home; neither did the apothecary, who arrived about the same time, think\r
+it at all advisable. After sitting a little while with Jane, on Miss\r
+Bingley's appearance and invitation, the mother and three daughters all\r
+attended her into the breakfast parlour. Bingley met them with hopes\r
+that Mrs. Bennet had not found Miss Bennet worse than she expected.\r
+\r
+"Indeed I have, sir," was her answer. "She is a great deal too ill to be\r
+moved. Mr. Jones says we must not think of moving her. We must trespass\r
+a little longer on your kindness."\r
+\r
+"Removed!" cried Bingley. "It must not be thought of. My sister, I am\r
+sure, will not hear of her removal."\r
+\r
+"You may depend upon it, Madam," said Miss Bingley, with cold civility,\r
+"that Miss Bennet will receive every possible attention while she\r
+remains with us."\r
+\r
+Mrs. Bennet was profuse in her acknowledgments.\r
+\r
+"I am sure," she added, "if it was not for such good friends I do not\r
+know what would become of her, for she is very ill indeed, and suffers\r
+a vast deal, though with the greatest patience in the world, which is\r
+always the way with her, for she has, without exception, the sweetest\r
+temper I have ever met with. I often tell my other girls they are\r
+nothing to _her_. You have a sweet room here, Mr. Bingley, and a\r
+charming prospect over the gravel walk. I do not know a place in the\r
+country that is equal to Netherfield. You will not think of quitting it\r
+in a hurry, I hope, though you have but a short lease."\r
+\r
+"Whatever I do is done in a hurry," replied he; "and therefore if I\r
+should resolve to quit Netherfield, I should probably be off in five\r
+minutes. At present, however, I consider myself as quite fixed here."\r
+\r
+"That is exactly what I should have supposed of you," said Elizabeth.\r
+\r
+"You begin to comprehend me, do you?" cried he, turning towards her.\r
+\r
+"Oh! yes--I understand you perfectly."\r
+\r
+"I wish I might take this for a compliment; but to be so easily seen\r
+through I am afraid is pitiful."\r
+\r
+"That is as it happens. It does not follow that a deep, intricate\r
+character is more or less estimable than such a one as yours."\r
+\r
+"Lizzy," cried her mother, "remember where you are, and do not run on in\r
+the wild manner that you are suffered to do at home."\r
+\r
+"I did not know before," continued Bingley immediately, "that you were a\r
+studier of character. It must be an amusing study."\r
+\r
+"Yes, but intricate characters are the _most_ amusing. They have at\r
+least that advantage."\r
+\r
+"The country," said Darcy, "can in general supply but a few subjects for\r
+such a study. In a country neighbourhood you move in a very confined and\r
+unvarying society."\r
+\r
+"But people themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be\r
+observed in them for ever."\r
+\r
+"Yes, indeed," cried Mrs. Bennet, offended by his manner of mentioning\r
+a country neighbourhood. "I assure you there is quite as much of _that_\r
+going on in the country as in town."\r
+\r
+Everybody was surprised, and Darcy, after looking at her for a moment,\r
+turned silently away. Mrs. Bennet, who fancied she had gained a complete\r
+victory over him, continued her triumph.\r
+\r
+"I cannot see that London has any great advantage over the country, for\r
+my part, except the shops and public places. The country is a vast deal\r
+pleasanter, is it not, Mr. Bingley?"\r
+\r
+"When I am in the country," he replied, "I never wish to leave it;\r
+and when I am in town it is pretty much the same. They have each their\r
+advantages, and I can be equally happy in either."\r
+\r
+"Aye--that is because you have the right disposition. But that\r
+gentleman," looking at Darcy, "seemed to think the country was nothing\r
+at all."\r
+\r
+"Indeed, Mamma, you are mistaken," said Elizabeth, blushing for her\r
+mother. "You quite mistook Mr. Darcy. He only meant that there was not\r
+such a variety of people to be met with in the country as in the town,\r
+which you must acknowledge to be true."\r
+\r
+"Certainly, my dear, nobody said there were; but as to not meeting\r
+with many people in this neighbourhood, I believe there are few\r
+neighbourhoods larger. I know we dine with four-and-twenty families."\r
+\r
+Nothing but concern for Elizabeth could enable Bingley to keep his\r
+countenance. His sister was less delicate, and directed her eyes towards\r
+Mr. Darcy with a very expressive smile. Elizabeth, for the sake of\r
+saying something that might turn her mother's thoughts, now asked her if\r
+Charlotte Lucas had been at Longbourn since _her_ coming away.\r
+\r
+"Yes, she called yesterday with her father. What an agreeable man Sir\r
+William is, Mr. Bingley, is not he? So much the man of fashion! So\r
+genteel and easy! He has always something to say to everybody. _That_\r
+is my idea of good breeding; and those persons who fancy themselves very\r
+important, and never open their mouths, quite mistake the matter."\r
+\r
+"Did Charlotte dine with you?"\r
+\r
+"No, she would go home. I fancy she was wanted about the mince-pies. For\r
+my part, Mr. Bingley, I always keep servants that can do their own work;\r
+_my_ daughters are brought up very differently. But everybody is to\r
+judge for themselves, and the Lucases are a very good sort of girls,\r
+I assure you. It is a pity they are not handsome! Not that I think\r
+Charlotte so _very_ plain--but then she is our particular friend."\r
+\r
+"She seems a very pleasant young woman."\r
+\r
+"Oh! dear, yes; but you must own she is very plain. Lady Lucas herself\r
+has often said so, and envied me Jane's beauty. I do not like to boast\r
+of my own child, but to be sure, Jane--one does not often see anybody\r
+better looking. It is what everybody says. I do not trust my own\r
+partiality. When she was only fifteen, there was a man at my brother\r
+Gardiner's in town so much in love with her that my sister-in-law was\r
+sure he would make her an offer before we came away. But, however, he\r
+did not. Perhaps he thought her too young. However, he wrote some verses\r
+on her, and very pretty they were."\r
+\r
+"And so ended his affection," said Elizabeth impatiently. "There has\r
+been many a one, I fancy, overcome in the same way. I wonder who first\r
+discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love!"\r
+\r
+"I have been used to consider poetry as the _food_ of love," said Darcy.\r
+\r
+"Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Everything nourishes what is\r
+strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I\r
+am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away."\r
+\r
+Darcy only smiled; and the general pause which ensued made Elizabeth\r
+tremble lest her mother should be exposing herself again. She longed to\r
+speak, but could think of nothing to say; and after a short silence Mrs.\r
+Bennet began repeating her thanks to Mr. Bingley for his kindness to\r
+Jane, with an apology for troubling him also with Lizzy. Mr. Bingley was\r
+unaffectedly civil in his answer, and forced his younger sister to be\r
+civil also, and say what the occasion required. She performed her part\r
+indeed without much graciousness, but Mrs. Bennet was satisfied, and\r
+soon afterwards ordered her carriage. Upon this signal, the youngest of\r
+her daughters put herself forward. The two girls had been whispering to\r
+each other during the whole visit, and the result of it was, that the\r
+youngest should tax Mr. Bingley with having promised on his first coming\r
+into the country to give a ball at Netherfield.\r
+\r
+Lydia was a stout, well-grown girl of fifteen, with a fine complexion\r
+and good-humoured countenance; a favourite with her mother, whose\r
+affection had brought her into public at an early age. She had high\r
+animal spirits, and a sort of natural self-consequence, which the\r
+attention of the officers, to whom her uncle's good dinners, and her own\r
+easy manners recommended her, had increased into assurance. She was very\r
+equal, therefore, to address Mr. Bingley on the subject of the ball, and\r
+abruptly reminded him of his promise; adding, that it would be the most\r
+shameful thing in the world if he did not keep it. His answer to this\r
+sudden attack was delightful to their mother's ear:\r
+\r
+"I am perfectly ready, I assure you, to keep my engagement; and when\r
+your sister is recovered, you shall, if you please, name the very day of\r
+the ball. But you would not wish to be dancing when she is ill."\r
+\r
+Lydia declared herself satisfied. "Oh! yes--it would be much better to\r
+wait till Jane was well, and by that time most likely Captain Carter\r
+would be at Meryton again. And when you have given _your_ ball," she\r
+added, "I shall insist on their giving one also. I shall tell Colonel\r
+Forster it will be quite a shame if he does not."\r
+\r
+Mrs. Bennet and her daughters then departed, and Elizabeth returned\r
+instantly to Jane, leaving her own and her relations' behaviour to the\r
+remarks of the two ladies and Mr. Darcy; the latter of whom, however,\r
+could not be prevailed on to join in their censure of _her_, in spite of\r
+all Miss Bingley's witticisms on _fine eyes_.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 10\r
+\r
+\r
+The day passed much as the day before had done. Mrs. Hurst and Miss\r
+Bingley had spent some hours of the morning with the invalid, who\r
+continued, though slowly, to mend; and in the evening Elizabeth joined\r
+their party in the drawing-room. The loo-table, however, did not appear.\r
+Mr. Darcy was writing, and Miss Bingley, seated near him, was watching\r
+the progress of his letter and repeatedly calling off his attention by\r
+messages to his sister. Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley were at piquet, and\r
+Mrs. Hurst was observing their game.\r
+\r
+Elizabeth took up some needlework, and was sufficiently amused in\r
+attending to what passed between Darcy and his companion. The perpetual\r
+commendations of the lady, either on his handwriting, or on the evenness\r
+of his lines, or on the length of his letter, with the perfect unconcern\r
+with which her praises were received, formed a curious dialogue, and was\r
+exactly in union with her opinion of each.\r
+\r
+"How delighted Miss Darcy will be to receive such a letter!"\r
+\r
+He made no answer.\r
+\r
+"You write uncommonly fast."\r
+\r
+"You are mistaken. I write rather slowly."\r
+\r
+"How many letters you must have occasion to write in the course of a\r
+year! Letters of business, too! How odious I should think them!"\r
+\r
+"It is fortunate, then, that they fall to my lot instead of yours."\r
+\r
+"Pray tell your sister that I long to see her."\r
+\r
+"I have already told her so once, by your desire."\r
+\r
+"I am afraid you do not like your pen. Let me mend it for you. I mend\r
+pens remarkably well."\r
+\r
+"Thank you--but I always mend my own."\r
+\r
+"How can you contrive to write so even?"\r
+\r
+He was silent.\r
+\r
+"Tell your sister I am delighted to hear of her improvement on the harp;\r
+and pray let her know that I am quite in raptures with her beautiful\r
+little design for a table, and I think it infinitely superior to Miss\r
+Grantley's."\r
+\r
+"Will you give me leave to defer your raptures till I write again? At\r
+present I have not room to do them justice."\r
+\r
+"Oh! it is of no consequence. I shall see her in January. But do you\r
+always write such charming long letters to her, Mr. Darcy?"\r
+\r
+"They are generally long; but whether always charming it is not for me\r
+to determine."\r
+\r
+"It is a rule with me, that a person who can write a long letter with\r
+ease, cannot write ill."\r
+\r
+"That will not do for a compliment to Darcy, Caroline," cried her\r
+brother, "because he does _not_ write with ease. He studies too much for\r
+words of four syllables. Do not you, Darcy?"\r
+\r
+"My style of writing is very different from yours."\r
+\r
+"Oh!" cried Miss Bingley, "Charles writes in the most careless way\r
+imaginable. He leaves out half his words, and blots the rest."\r
+\r
+"My ideas flow so rapidly that I have not time to express them--by which\r
+means my letters sometimes convey no ideas at all to my correspondents."\r
+\r
+"Your humility, Mr. Bingley," said Elizabeth, "must disarm reproof."\r
+\r
+"Nothing is more deceitful," said Darcy, "than the appearance of\r
+humility. It is often only carelessness of opinion, and sometimes an\r
+indirect boast."\r
+\r
+"And which of the two do you call _my_ little recent piece of modesty?"\r
+\r
+"The indirect boast; for you are really proud of your defects in\r
+writing, because you consider them as proceeding from a rapidity of\r
+thought and carelessness of execution, which, if not estimable, you\r
+think at least highly interesting. The power of doing anything with\r
+quickness is always prized much by the possessor, and often without any\r
+attention to the imperfection of the performance. When you told Mrs.\r
+Bennet this morning that if you ever resolved upon quitting Netherfield\r
+you should be gone in five minutes, you meant it to be a sort of\r
+panegyric, of compliment to yourself--and yet what is there so very\r
+laudable in a precipitance which must leave very necessary business\r
+undone, and can be of no real advantage to yourself or anyone else?"\r
+\r
+"Nay," cried Bingley, "this is too much, to remember at night all the\r
+foolish things that were said in the morning. And yet, upon my honour,\r
+I believe what I said of myself to be true, and I believe it at this\r
+moment. At least, therefore, I did not assume the character of needless\r
+precipitance merely to show off before the ladies."\r
+\r
+"I dare say you believed it; but I am by no means convinced that\r
+you would be gone with such celerity. Your conduct would be quite as\r
+dependent on chance as that of any man I know; and if, as you were\r
+mounting your horse, a friend were to say, 'Bingley, you had better\r
+stay till next week,' you would probably do it, you would probably not\r
+go--and at another word, might stay a month."\r
+\r
+"You have only proved by this," cried Elizabeth, "that Mr. Bingley did\r
+not do justice to his own disposition. You have shown him off now much\r
+more than he did himself."\r
+\r
+"I am exceedingly gratified," said Bingley, "by your converting what my\r
+friend says into a compliment on the sweetness of my temper. But I am\r
+afraid you are giving it a turn which that gentleman did by no means\r
+intend; for he would certainly think better of me, if under such a\r
+circumstance I were to give a flat denial, and ride off as fast as I\r
+could."\r
+\r
+"Would Mr. Darcy then consider the rashness of your original intentions\r
+as atoned for by your obstinacy in adhering to it?"\r
+\r
+"Upon my word, I cannot exactly explain the matter; Darcy must speak for\r
+himself."\r
+\r
+"You expect me to account for opinions which you choose to call mine,\r
+but which I have never acknowledged. Allowing the case, however, to\r
+stand according to your representation, you must remember, Miss Bennet,\r
+that the friend who is supposed to desire his return to the house, and\r
+the delay of his plan, has merely desired it, asked it without offering\r
+one argument in favour of its propriety."\r
+\r
+"To yield readily--easily--to the _persuasion_ of a friend is no merit\r
+with you."\r
+\r
+"To yield without conviction is no compliment to the understanding of\r
+either."\r
+\r
+"You appear to me, Mr. Darcy, to allow nothing for the influence of\r
+friendship and affection. A regard for the requester would often make\r
+one readily yield to a request, without waiting for arguments to reason\r
+one into it. I am not particularly speaking of such a case as you have\r
+supposed about Mr. Bingley. We may as well wait, perhaps, till the\r
+circumstance occurs before we discuss the discretion of his behaviour\r
+thereupon. But in general and ordinary cases between friend and friend,\r
+where one of them is desired by the other to change a resolution of no\r
+very great moment, should you think ill of that person for complying\r
+with the desire, without waiting to be argued into it?"\r
+\r
+"Will it not be advisable, before we proceed on this subject, to\r
+arrange with rather more precision the degree of importance which is to\r
+appertain to this request, as well as the degree of intimacy subsisting\r
+between the parties?"\r
+\r
+"By all means," cried Bingley; "let us hear all the particulars, not\r
+forgetting their comparative height and size; for that will have more\r
+weight in the argument, Miss Bennet, than you may be aware of. I assure\r
+you, that if Darcy were not such a great tall fellow, in comparison with\r
+myself, I should not pay him half so much deference. I declare I do not\r
+know a more awful object than Darcy, on particular occasions, and in\r
+particular places; at his own house especially, and of a Sunday evening,\r
+when he has nothing to do."\r
+\r
+Mr. Darcy smiled; but Elizabeth thought she could perceive that he was\r
+rather offended, and therefore checked her laugh. Miss Bingley warmly\r
+resented the indignity he had received, in an expostulation with her\r
+brother for talking such nonsense.\r
+\r
+"I see your design, Bingley," said his friend. "You dislike an argument,\r
+and want to silence this."\r
+\r
+"Perhaps I do. Arguments are too much like disputes. If you and Miss\r
+Bennet will defer yours till I am out of the room, I shall be very\r
+thankful; and then you may say whatever you like of me."\r
+\r
+"What you ask," said Elizabeth, "is no sacrifice on my side; and Mr.\r
+Darcy had much better finish his letter."\r
+\r
+Mr. Darcy took her advice, and did finish his letter.\r
+\r
+When that business was over, he applied to Miss Bingley and Elizabeth\r
+for an indulgence of some music. Miss Bingley moved with some alacrity\r
+to the pianoforte; and, after a polite request that Elizabeth would lead\r
+the way which the other as politely and more earnestly negatived, she\r
+seated herself.\r
+\r
+Mrs. Hurst sang with her sister, and while they were thus employed,\r
+Elizabeth could not help observing, as she turned over some music-books\r
+that lay on the instrument, how frequently Mr. Darcy's eyes were fixed\r
+on her. She hardly knew how to suppose that she could be an object of\r
+admiration to so great a man; and yet that he should look at her\r
+because he disliked her, was still more strange. She could only imagine,\r
+however, at last that she drew his notice because there was something\r
+more wrong and reprehensible, according to his ideas of right, than in\r
+any other person present. The supposition did not pain her. She liked\r
+him too little to care for his approbation.\r
+\r
+After playing some Italian songs, Miss Bingley varied the charm by\r
+a lively Scotch air; and soon afterwards Mr. Darcy, drawing near\r
+Elizabeth, said to her:\r
+\r
+"Do not you feel a great inclination, Miss Bennet, to seize such an\r
+opportunity of dancing a reel?"\r
+\r
+She smiled, but made no answer. He repeated the question, with some\r
+surprise at her silence.\r
+\r
+"Oh!" said she, "I heard you before, but I could not immediately\r
+determine what to say in reply. You wanted me, I know, to say 'Yes,'\r
+that you might have the pleasure of despising my taste; but I always\r
+delight in overthrowing those kind of schemes, and cheating a person of\r
+their premeditated contempt. I have, therefore, made up my mind to tell\r
+you, that I do not want to dance a reel at all--and now despise me if\r
+you dare."\r
+\r
+"Indeed I do not dare."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth, having rather expected to affront him, was amazed at his\r
+gallantry; but there was a mixture of sweetness and archness in her\r
+manner which made it difficult for her to affront anybody; and Darcy\r
+had never been so bewitched by any woman as he was by her. He really\r
+believed, that were it not for the inferiority of her connections, he\r
+should be in some danger.\r
+\r
+Miss Bingley saw, or suspected enough to be jealous; and her great\r
+anxiety for the recovery of her dear friend Jane received some\r
+assistance from her desire of getting rid of Elizabeth.\r
+\r
+She often tried to provoke Darcy into disliking her guest, by talking of\r
+their supposed marriage, and planning his happiness in such an alliance.\r
+\r
+"I hope," said she, as they were walking together in the shrubbery\r
+the next day, "you will give your mother-in-law a few hints, when this\r
+desirable event takes place, as to the advantage of holding her tongue;\r
+and if you can compass it, do cure the younger girls of running after\r
+officers. And, if I may mention so delicate a subject, endeavour to\r
+check that little something, bordering on conceit and impertinence,\r
+which your lady possesses."\r
+\r
+"Have you anything else to propose for my domestic felicity?"\r
+\r
+"Oh! yes. Do let the portraits of your uncle and aunt Phillips be placed\r
+in the gallery at Pemberley. Put them next to your great-uncle the\r
+judge. They are in the same profession, you know, only in different\r
+lines. As for your Elizabeth's picture, you must not have it taken, for\r
+what painter could do justice to those beautiful eyes?"\r
+\r
+"It would not be easy, indeed, to catch their expression, but their\r
+colour and shape, and the eyelashes, so remarkably fine, might be\r
+copied."\r
+\r
+At that moment they were met from another walk by Mrs. Hurst and\r
+Elizabeth herself.\r
+\r
+"I did not know that you intended to walk," said Miss Bingley, in some\r
+confusion, lest they had been overheard.\r
+\r
+"You used us abominably ill," answered Mrs. Hurst, "running away without\r
+telling us that you were coming out."\r
+\r
+Then taking the disengaged arm of Mr. Darcy, she left Elizabeth to walk\r
+by herself. The path just admitted three. Mr. Darcy felt their rudeness,\r
+and immediately said:\r
+\r
+"This walk is not wide enough for our party. We had better go into the\r
+avenue."\r
+\r
+But Elizabeth, who had not the least inclination to remain with them,\r
+laughingly answered:\r
+\r
+"No, no; stay where you are. You are charmingly grouped, and appear\r
+to uncommon advantage. The picturesque would be spoilt by admitting a\r
+fourth. Good-bye."\r
+\r
+She then ran gaily off, rejoicing as she rambled about, in the hope of\r
+being at home again in a day or two. Jane was already so much recovered\r
+as to intend leaving her room for a couple of hours that evening.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 11\r
+\r
+\r
+When the ladies removed after dinner, Elizabeth ran up to her\r
+sister, and seeing her well guarded from cold, attended her into the\r
+drawing-room, where she was welcomed by her two friends with many\r
+professions of pleasure; and Elizabeth had never seen them so agreeable\r
+as they were during the hour which passed before the gentlemen appeared.\r
+Their powers of conversation were considerable. They could describe an\r
+entertainment with accuracy, relate an anecdote with humour, and laugh\r
+at their acquaintance with spirit.\r
+\r
+But when the gentlemen entered, Jane was no longer the first object;\r
+Miss Bingley's eyes were instantly turned toward Darcy, and she had\r
+something to say to him before he had advanced many steps. He addressed\r
+himself to Miss Bennet, with a polite congratulation; Mr. Hurst also\r
+made her a slight bow, and said he was "very glad;" but diffuseness\r
+and warmth remained for Bingley's salutation. He was full of joy and\r
+attention. The first half-hour was spent in piling up the fire, lest she\r
+should suffer from the change of room; and she removed at his desire\r
+to the other side of the fireplace, that she might be further from\r
+the door. He then sat down by her, and talked scarcely to anyone\r
+else. Elizabeth, at work in the opposite corner, saw it all with great\r
+delight.\r
+\r
+When tea was over, Mr. Hurst reminded his sister-in-law of the\r
+card-table--but in vain. She had obtained private intelligence that Mr.\r
+Darcy did not wish for cards; and Mr. Hurst soon found even his open\r
+petition rejected. She assured him that no one intended to play, and\r
+the silence of the whole party on the subject seemed to justify her. Mr.\r
+Hurst had therefore nothing to do, but to stretch himself on one of the\r
+sofas and go to sleep. Darcy took up a book; Miss Bingley did the same;\r
+and Mrs. Hurst, principally occupied in playing with her bracelets\r
+and rings, joined now and then in her brother's conversation with Miss\r
+Bennet.\r
+\r
+Miss Bingley's attention was quite as much engaged in watching Mr.\r
+Darcy's progress through _his_ book, as in reading her own; and she\r
+was perpetually either making some inquiry, or looking at his page. She\r
+could not win him, however, to any conversation; he merely answered her\r
+question, and read on. At length, quite exhausted by the attempt to be\r
+amused with her own book, which she had only chosen because it was the\r
+second volume of his, she gave a great yawn and said, "How pleasant\r
+it is to spend an evening in this way! I declare after all there is no\r
+enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of anything than of a\r
+book! When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not\r
+an excellent library."\r
+\r
+No one made any reply. She then yawned again, threw aside her book, and\r
+cast her eyes round the room in quest for some amusement; when hearing\r
+her brother mentioning a ball to Miss Bennet, she turned suddenly\r
+towards him and said:\r
+\r
+"By the bye, Charles, are you really serious in meditating a dance at\r
+Netherfield? I would advise you, before you determine on it, to consult\r
+the wishes of the present party; I am much mistaken if there are\r
+not some among us to whom a ball would be rather a punishment than a\r
+pleasure."\r
+\r
+"If you mean Darcy," cried her brother, "he may go to bed, if he\r
+chooses, before it begins--but as for the ball, it is quite a settled\r
+thing; and as soon as Nicholls has made white soup enough, I shall send\r
+round my cards."\r
+\r
+"I should like balls infinitely better," she replied, "if they were\r
+carried on in a different manner; but there is something insufferably\r
+tedious in the usual process of such a meeting. It would surely be much\r
+more rational if conversation instead of dancing were made the order of\r
+the day."\r
+\r
+"Much more rational, my dear Caroline, I dare say, but it would not be\r
+near so much like a ball."\r
+\r
+Miss Bingley made no answer, and soon afterwards she got up and walked\r
+about the room. Her figure was elegant, and she walked well; but\r
+Darcy, at whom it was all aimed, was still inflexibly studious. In\r
+the desperation of her feelings, she resolved on one effort more, and,\r
+turning to Elizabeth, said:\r
+\r
+"Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade you to follow my example, and take a\r
+turn about the room. I assure you it is very refreshing after sitting so\r
+long in one attitude."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth was surprised, but agreed to it immediately. Miss Bingley\r
+succeeded no less in the real object of her civility; Mr. Darcy looked\r
+up. He was as much awake to the novelty of attention in that quarter as\r
+Elizabeth herself could be, and unconsciously closed his book. He was\r
+directly invited to join their party, but he declined it, observing that\r
+he could imagine but two motives for their choosing to walk up and down\r
+the room together, with either of which motives his joining them would\r
+interfere. "What could he mean? She was dying to know what could be his\r
+meaning?"--and asked Elizabeth whether she could at all understand him?\r
+\r
+"Not at all," was her answer; "but depend upon it, he means to be severe\r
+on us, and our surest way of disappointing him will be to ask nothing\r
+about it."\r
+\r
+Miss Bingley, however, was incapable of disappointing Mr. Darcy in\r
+anything, and persevered therefore in requiring an explanation of his\r
+two motives.\r
+\r
+"I have not the smallest objection to explaining them," said he, as soon\r
+as she allowed him to speak. "You either choose this method of passing\r
+the evening because you are in each other's confidence, and have secret\r
+affairs to discuss, or because you are conscious that your figures\r
+appear to the greatest advantage in walking; if the first, I would be\r
+completely in your way, and if the second, I can admire you much better\r
+as I sit by the fire."\r
+\r
+"Oh! shocking!" cried Miss Bingley. "I never heard anything so\r
+abominable. How shall we punish him for such a speech?"\r
+\r
+"Nothing so easy, if you have but the inclination," said Elizabeth. "We\r
+can all plague and punish one another. Tease him--laugh at him. Intimate\r
+as you are, you must know how it is to be done."\r
+\r
+"But upon my honour, I do _not_. I do assure you that my intimacy has\r
+not yet taught me _that_. Tease calmness of manner and presence of\r
+mind! No, no; I feel he may defy us there. And as to laughter, we will\r
+not expose ourselves, if you please, by attempting to laugh without a\r
+subject. Mr. Darcy may hug himself."\r
+\r
+"Mr. Darcy is not to be laughed at!" cried Elizabeth. "That is an\r
+uncommon advantage, and uncommon I hope it will continue, for it would\r
+be a great loss to _me_ to have many such acquaintances. I dearly love a\r
+laugh."\r
+\r
+"Miss Bingley," said he, "has given me more credit than can be.\r
+The wisest and the best of men--nay, the wisest and best of their\r
+actions--may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in\r
+life is a joke."\r
+\r
+"Certainly," replied Elizabeth--"there are such people, but I hope I\r
+am not one of _them_. I hope I never ridicule what is wise and good.\r
+Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies, _do_ divert me, I own,\r
+and I laugh at them whenever I can. But these, I suppose, are precisely\r
+what you are without."\r
+\r
+"Perhaps that is not possible for anyone. But it has been the study\r
+of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong\r
+understanding to ridicule."\r
+\r
+"Such as vanity and pride."\r
+\r
+"Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride--where there is a real\r
+superiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth turned away to hide a smile.\r
+\r
+"Your examination of Mr. Darcy is over, I presume," said Miss Bingley;\r
+"and pray what is the result?"\r
+\r
+"I am perfectly convinced by it that Mr. Darcy has no defect. He owns it\r
+himself without disguise."\r
+\r
+"No," said Darcy, "I have made no such pretension. I have faults enough,\r
+but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch\r
+for. It is, I believe, too little yielding--certainly too little for the\r
+convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others\r
+so soon as I ought, nor their offenses against myself. My feelings\r
+are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper\r
+would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost, is lost\r
+forever."\r
+\r
+"_That_ is a failing indeed!" cried Elizabeth. "Implacable resentment\r
+_is_ a shade in a character. But you have chosen your fault well. I\r
+really cannot _laugh_ at it. You are safe from me."\r
+\r
+"There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular\r
+evil--a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome."\r
+\r
+"And _your_ defect is to hate everybody."\r
+\r
+"And yours," he replied with a smile, "is willfully to misunderstand\r
+them."\r
+\r
+"Do let us have a little music," cried Miss Bingley, tired of a\r
+conversation in which she had no share. "Louisa, you will not mind my\r
+waking Mr. Hurst?"\r
+\r
+Her sister had not the smallest objection, and the pianoforte was\r
+opened; and Darcy, after a few moments' recollection, was not sorry for\r
+it. He began to feel the danger of paying Elizabeth too much attention.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 12\r
+\r
+\r
+In consequence of an agreement between the sisters, Elizabeth wrote the\r
+next morning to their mother, to beg that the carriage might be sent for\r
+them in the course of the day. But Mrs. Bennet, who had calculated on\r
+her daughters remaining at Netherfield till the following Tuesday, which\r
+would exactly finish Jane's week, could not bring herself to receive\r
+them with pleasure before. Her answer, therefore, was not propitious, at\r
+least not to Elizabeth's wishes, for she was impatient to get home. Mrs.\r
+Bennet sent them word that they could not possibly have the carriage\r
+before Tuesday; and in her postscript it was added, that if Mr. Bingley\r
+and his sister pressed them to stay longer, she could spare them\r
+very well. Against staying longer, however, Elizabeth was positively\r
+resolved--nor did she much expect it would be asked; and fearful, on the\r
+contrary, as being considered as intruding themselves needlessly long,\r
+she urged Jane to borrow Mr. Bingley's carriage immediately, and at\r
+length it was settled that their original design of leaving Netherfield\r
+that morning should be mentioned, and the request made.\r
+\r
+The communication excited many professions of concern; and enough was\r
+said of wishing them to stay at least till the following day to work\r
+on Jane; and till the morrow their going was deferred. Miss Bingley was\r
+then sorry that she had proposed the delay, for her jealousy and dislike\r
+of one sister much exceeded her affection for the other.\r
+\r
+The master of the house heard with real sorrow that they were to go so\r
+soon, and repeatedly tried to persuade Miss Bennet that it would not be\r
+safe for her--that she was not enough recovered; but Jane was firm where\r
+she felt herself to be right.\r
+\r
+To Mr. Darcy it was welcome intelligence--Elizabeth had been at\r
+Netherfield long enough. She attracted him more than he liked--and Miss\r
+Bingley was uncivil to _her_, and more teasing than usual to himself.\r
+He wisely resolved to be particularly careful that no sign of admiration\r
+should _now_ escape him, nothing that could elevate her with the hope\r
+of influencing his felicity; sensible that if such an idea had been\r
+suggested, his behaviour during the last day must have material weight\r
+in confirming or crushing it. Steady to his purpose, he scarcely spoke\r
+ten words to her through the whole of Saturday, and though they were\r
+at one time left by themselves for half-an-hour, he adhered most\r
+conscientiously to his book, and would not even look at her.\r
+\r
+On Sunday, after morning service, the separation, so agreeable to almost\r
+all, took place. Miss Bingley's civility to Elizabeth increased at last\r
+very rapidly, as well as her affection for Jane; and when they parted,\r
+after assuring the latter of the pleasure it would always give her\r
+to see her either at Longbourn or Netherfield, and embracing her most\r
+tenderly, she even shook hands with the former. Elizabeth took leave of\r
+the whole party in the liveliest of spirits.\r
+\r
+They were not welcomed home very cordially by their mother. Mrs. Bennet\r
+wondered at their coming, and thought them very wrong to give so much\r
+trouble, and was sure Jane would have caught cold again. But their\r
+father, though very laconic in his expressions of pleasure, was really\r
+glad to see them; he had felt their importance in the family circle. The\r
+evening conversation, when they were all assembled, had lost much of\r
+its animation, and almost all its sense by the absence of Jane and\r
+Elizabeth.\r
+\r
+They found Mary, as usual, deep in the study of thorough-bass and human\r
+nature; and had some extracts to admire, and some new observations of\r
+threadbare morality to listen to. Catherine and Lydia had information\r
+for them of a different sort. Much had been done and much had been said\r
+in the regiment since the preceding Wednesday; several of the officers\r
+had dined lately with their uncle, a private had been flogged, and it\r
+had actually been hinted that Colonel Forster was going to be married.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 13\r
+\r
+\r
+"I hope, my dear," said Mr. Bennet to his wife, as they were at\r
+breakfast the next morning, "that you have ordered a good dinner to-day,\r
+because I have reason to expect an addition to our family party."\r
+\r
+"Who do you mean, my dear? I know of nobody that is coming, I am sure,\r
+unless Charlotte Lucas should happen to call in--and I hope _my_ dinners\r
+are good enough for her. I do not believe she often sees such at home."\r
+\r
+"The person of whom I speak is a gentleman, and a stranger."\r
+\r
+Mrs. Bennet's eyes sparkled. "A gentleman and a stranger! It is Mr.\r
+Bingley, I am sure! Well, I am sure I shall be extremely glad to see Mr.\r
+Bingley. But--good Lord! how unlucky! There is not a bit of fish to be\r
+got to-day. Lydia, my love, ring the bell--I must speak to Hill this\r
+moment."\r
+\r
+"It is _not_ Mr. Bingley," said her husband; "it is a person whom I\r
+never saw in the whole course of my life."\r
+\r
+This roused a general astonishment; and he had the pleasure of being\r
+eagerly questioned by his wife and his five daughters at once.\r
+\r
+After amusing himself some time with their curiosity, he thus explained:\r
+\r
+"About a month ago I received this letter; and about a fortnight ago\r
+I answered it, for I thought it a case of some delicacy, and requiring\r
+early attention. It is from my cousin, Mr. Collins, who, when I am dead,\r
+may turn you all out of this house as soon as he pleases."\r
+\r
+"Oh! my dear," cried his wife, "I cannot bear to hear that mentioned.\r
+Pray do not talk of that odious man. I do think it is the hardest thing\r
+in the world, that your estate should be entailed away from your own\r
+children; and I am sure, if I had been you, I should have tried long ago\r
+to do something or other about it."\r
+\r
+Jane and Elizabeth tried to explain to her the nature of an entail. They\r
+had often attempted to do it before, but it was a subject on which\r
+Mrs. Bennet was beyond the reach of reason, and she continued to rail\r
+bitterly against the cruelty of settling an estate away from a family of\r
+five daughters, in favour of a man whom nobody cared anything about.\r
+\r
+"It certainly is a most iniquitous affair," said Mr. Bennet, "and\r
+nothing can clear Mr. Collins from the guilt of inheriting Longbourn.\r
+But if you will listen to his letter, you may perhaps be a little\r
+softened by his manner of expressing himself."\r
+\r
+"No, that I am sure I shall not; and I think it is very impertinent of\r
+him to write to you at all, and very hypocritical. I hate such false\r
+friends. Why could he not keep on quarreling with you, as his father did\r
+before him?"\r
+\r
+"Why, indeed; he does seem to have had some filial scruples on that\r
+head, as you will hear."\r
+\r
+"Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent, 15th October.\r
+\r
+"Dear Sir,--\r
+\r
+"The disagreement subsisting between yourself and my late honoured\r
+father always gave me much uneasiness, and since I have had the\r
+misfortune to lose him, I have frequently wished to heal the breach; but\r
+for some time I was kept back by my own doubts, fearing lest it might\r
+seem disrespectful to his memory for me to be on good terms with anyone\r
+with whom it had always pleased him to be at variance.--'There, Mrs.\r
+Bennet.'--My mind, however, is now made up on the subject, for having\r
+received ordination at Easter, I have been so fortunate as to be\r
+distinguished by the patronage of the Right Honourable Lady Catherine de\r
+Bourgh, widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh, whose bounty and beneficence has\r
+preferred me to the valuable rectory of this parish, where it shall be\r
+my earnest endeavour to demean myself with grateful respect towards her\r
+ladyship, and be ever ready to perform those rites and ceremonies which\r
+are instituted by the Church of England. As a clergyman, moreover, I\r
+feel it my duty to promote and establish the blessing of peace in\r
+all families within the reach of my influence; and on these grounds I\r
+flatter myself that my present overtures are highly commendable, and\r
+that the circumstance of my being next in the entail of Longbourn estate\r
+will be kindly overlooked on your side, and not lead you to reject the\r
+offered olive-branch. I cannot be otherwise than concerned at being the\r
+means of injuring your amiable daughters, and beg leave to apologise for\r
+it, as well as to assure you of my readiness to make them every possible\r
+amends--but of this hereafter. If you should have no objection to\r
+receive me into your house, I propose myself the satisfaction of waiting\r
+on you and your family, Monday, November 18th, by four o'clock, and\r
+shall probably trespass on your hospitality till the Saturday se'ennight\r
+following, which I can do without any inconvenience, as Lady Catherine\r
+is far from objecting to my occasional absence on a Sunday, provided\r
+that some other clergyman is engaged to do the duty of the day.--I\r
+remain, dear sir, with respectful compliments to your lady and\r
+daughters, your well-wisher and friend,\r
+\r
+"WILLIAM COLLINS"\r
+\r
+"At four o'clock, therefore, we may expect this peace-making gentleman,"\r
+said Mr. Bennet, as he folded up the letter. "He seems to be a most\r
+conscientious and polite young man, upon my word, and I doubt not will\r
+prove a valuable acquaintance, especially if Lady Catherine should be so\r
+indulgent as to let him come to us again."\r
+\r
+"There is some sense in what he says about the girls, however, and if\r
+he is disposed to make them any amends, I shall not be the person to\r
+discourage him."\r
+\r
+"Though it is difficult," said Jane, "to guess in what way he can mean\r
+to make us the atonement he thinks our due, the wish is certainly to his\r
+credit."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth was chiefly struck by his extraordinary deference for Lady\r
+Catherine, and his kind intention of christening, marrying, and burying\r
+his parishioners whenever it were required.\r
+\r
+"He must be an oddity, I think," said she. "I cannot make him\r
+out.--There is something very pompous in his style.--And what can he\r
+mean by apologising for being next in the entail?--We cannot suppose he\r
+would help it if he could.--Could he be a sensible man, sir?"\r
+\r
+"No, my dear, I think not. I have great hopes of finding him quite the\r
+reverse. There is a mixture of servility and self-importance in his\r
+letter, which promises well. I am impatient to see him."\r
+\r
+"In point of composition," said Mary, "the letter does not seem\r
+defective. The idea of the olive-branch perhaps is not wholly new, yet I\r
+think it is well expressed."\r
+\r
+To Catherine and Lydia, neither the letter nor its writer were in any\r
+degree interesting. It was next to impossible that their cousin should\r
+come in a scarlet coat, and it was now some weeks since they had\r
+received pleasure from the society of a man in any other colour. As for\r
+their mother, Mr. Collins's letter had done away much of her ill-will,\r
+and she was preparing to see him with a degree of composure which\r
+astonished her husband and daughters.\r
+\r
+Mr. Collins was punctual to his time, and was received with great\r
+politeness by the whole family. Mr. Bennet indeed said little; but the\r
+ladies were ready enough to talk, and Mr. Collins seemed neither in\r
+need of encouragement, nor inclined to be silent himself. He was a\r
+tall, heavy-looking young man of five-and-twenty. His air was grave and\r
+stately, and his manners were very formal. He had not been long seated\r
+before he complimented Mrs. Bennet on having so fine a family of\r
+daughters; said he had heard much of their beauty, but that in this\r
+instance fame had fallen short of the truth; and added, that he did\r
+not doubt her seeing them all in due time disposed of in marriage. This\r
+gallantry was not much to the taste of some of his hearers; but Mrs.\r
+Bennet, who quarreled with no compliments, answered most readily.\r
+\r
+"You are very kind, I am sure; and I wish with all my heart it may\r
+prove so, for else they will be destitute enough. Things are settled so\r
+oddly."\r
+\r
+"You allude, perhaps, to the entail of this estate."\r
+\r
+"Ah! sir, I do indeed. It is a grievous affair to my poor girls, you\r
+must confess. Not that I mean to find fault with _you_, for such things\r
+I know are all chance in this world. There is no knowing how estates\r
+will go when once they come to be entailed."\r
+\r
+"I am very sensible, madam, of the hardship to my fair cousins, and\r
+could say much on the subject, but that I am cautious of appearing\r
+forward and precipitate. But I can assure the young ladies that I come\r
+prepared to admire them. At present I will not say more; but, perhaps,\r
+when we are better acquainted--"\r
+\r
+He was interrupted by a summons to dinner; and the girls smiled on each\r
+other. They were not the only objects of Mr. Collins's admiration. The\r
+hall, the dining-room, and all its furniture, were examined and praised;\r
+and his commendation of everything would have touched Mrs. Bennet's\r
+heart, but for the mortifying supposition of his viewing it all as his\r
+own future property. The dinner too in its turn was highly admired; and\r
+he begged to know to which of his fair cousins the excellency of its\r
+cooking was owing. But he was set right there by Mrs. Bennet, who\r
+assured him with some asperity that they were very well able to keep a\r
+good cook, and that her daughters had nothing to do in the kitchen. He\r
+begged pardon for having displeased her. In a softened tone she declared\r
+herself not at all offended; but he continued to apologise for about a\r
+quarter of an hour.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 14\r
+\r
+\r
+During dinner, Mr. Bennet scarcely spoke at all; but when the servants\r
+were withdrawn, he thought it time to have some conversation with his\r
+guest, and therefore started a subject in which he expected him to\r
+shine, by observing that he seemed very fortunate in his patroness. Lady\r
+Catherine de Bourgh's attention to his wishes, and consideration for\r
+his comfort, appeared very remarkable. Mr. Bennet could not have chosen\r
+better. Mr. Collins was eloquent in her praise. The subject elevated him\r
+to more than usual solemnity of manner, and with a most important aspect\r
+he protested that "he had never in his life witnessed such behaviour in\r
+a person of rank--such affability and condescension, as he had himself\r
+experienced from Lady Catherine. She had been graciously pleased to\r
+approve of both of the discourses which he had already had the honour of\r
+preaching before her. She had also asked him twice to dine at Rosings,\r
+and had sent for him only the Saturday before, to make up her pool of\r
+quadrille in the evening. Lady Catherine was reckoned proud by many\r
+people he knew, but _he_ had never seen anything but affability in her.\r
+She had always spoken to him as she would to any other gentleman; she\r
+made not the smallest objection to his joining in the society of the\r
+neighbourhood nor to his leaving the parish occasionally for a week or\r
+two, to visit his relations. She had even condescended to advise him to\r
+marry as soon as he could, provided he chose with discretion; and had\r
+once paid him a visit in his humble parsonage, where she had perfectly\r
+approved all the alterations he had been making, and had even vouchsafed\r
+to suggest some herself--some shelves in the closet up stairs."\r
+\r
+"That is all very proper and civil, I am sure," said Mrs. Bennet, "and\r
+I dare say she is a very agreeable woman. It is a pity that great ladies\r
+in general are not more like her. Does she live near you, sir?"\r
+\r
+"The garden in which stands my humble abode is separated only by a lane\r
+from Rosings Park, her ladyship's residence."\r
+\r
+"I think you said she was a widow, sir? Has she any family?"\r
+\r
+"She has only one daughter, the heiress of Rosings, and of very\r
+extensive property."\r
+\r
+"Ah!" said Mrs. Bennet, shaking her head, "then she is better off than\r
+many girls. And what sort of young lady is she? Is she handsome?"\r
+\r
+"She is a most charming young lady indeed. Lady Catherine herself says\r
+that, in point of true beauty, Miss de Bourgh is far superior to the\r
+handsomest of her sex, because there is that in her features which marks\r
+the young lady of distinguished birth. She is unfortunately of a sickly\r
+constitution, which has prevented her from making that progress in many\r
+accomplishments which she could not have otherwise failed of, as I am\r
+informed by the lady who superintended her education, and who still\r
+resides with them. But she is perfectly amiable, and often condescends\r
+to drive by my humble abode in her little phaeton and ponies."\r
+\r
+"Has she been presented? I do not remember her name among the ladies at\r
+court."\r
+\r
+"Her indifferent state of health unhappily prevents her being in town;\r
+and by that means, as I told Lady Catherine one day, has deprived the\r
+British court of its brightest ornament. Her ladyship seemed pleased\r
+with the idea; and you may imagine that I am happy on every occasion to\r
+offer those little delicate compliments which are always acceptable\r
+to ladies. I have more than once observed to Lady Catherine, that\r
+her charming daughter seemed born to be a duchess, and that the most\r
+elevated rank, instead of giving her consequence, would be adorned by\r
+her. These are the kind of little things which please her ladyship, and\r
+it is a sort of attention which I conceive myself peculiarly bound to\r
+pay."\r
+\r
+"You judge very properly," said Mr. Bennet, "and it is happy for you\r
+that you possess the talent of flattering with delicacy. May I ask\r
+whether these pleasing attentions proceed from the impulse of the\r
+moment, or are the result of previous study?"\r
+\r
+"They arise chiefly from what is passing at the time, and though I\r
+sometimes amuse myself with suggesting and arranging such little elegant\r
+compliments as may be adapted to ordinary occasions, I always wish to\r
+give them as unstudied an air as possible."\r
+\r
+Mr. Bennet's expectations were fully answered. His cousin was as absurd\r
+as he had hoped, and he listened to him with the keenest enjoyment,\r
+maintaining at the same time the most resolute composure of countenance,\r
+and, except in an occasional glance at Elizabeth, requiring no partner\r
+in his pleasure.\r
+\r
+By tea-time, however, the dose had been enough, and Mr. Bennet was glad\r
+to take his guest into the drawing-room again, and, when tea was over,\r
+glad to invite him to read aloud to the ladies. Mr. Collins readily\r
+assented, and a book was produced; but, on beholding it (for everything\r
+announced it to be from a circulating library), he started back, and\r
+begging pardon, protested that he never read novels. Kitty stared at\r
+him, and Lydia exclaimed. Other books were produced, and after some\r
+deliberation he chose Fordyce's Sermons. Lydia gaped as he opened the\r
+volume, and before he had, with very monotonous solemnity, read three\r
+pages, she interrupted him with:\r
+\r
+"Do you know, mamma, that my uncle Phillips talks of turning away\r
+Richard; and if he does, Colonel Forster will hire him. My aunt told me\r
+so herself on Saturday. I shall walk to Meryton to-morrow to hear more\r
+about it, and to ask when Mr. Denny comes back from town."\r
+\r
+Lydia was bid by her two eldest sisters to hold her tongue; but Mr.\r
+Collins, much offended, laid aside his book, and said:\r
+\r
+"I have often observed how little young ladies are interested by books\r
+of a serious stamp, though written solely for their benefit. It amazes\r
+me, I confess; for, certainly, there can be nothing so advantageous to\r
+them as instruction. But I will no longer importune my young cousin."\r
+\r
+Then turning to Mr. Bennet, he offered himself as his antagonist at\r
+backgammon. Mr. Bennet accepted the challenge, observing that he acted\r
+very wisely in leaving the girls to their own trifling amusements.\r
+Mrs. Bennet and her daughters apologised most civilly for Lydia's\r
+interruption, and promised that it should not occur again, if he would\r
+resume his book; but Mr. Collins, after assuring them that he bore his\r
+young cousin no ill-will, and should never resent her behaviour as any\r
+affront, seated himself at another table with Mr. Bennet, and prepared\r
+for backgammon.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 15\r
+\r
+\r
+Mr. Collins was not a sensible man, and the deficiency of nature had\r
+been but little assisted by education or society; the greatest part\r
+of his life having been spent under the guidance of an illiterate and\r
+miserly father; and though he belonged to one of the universities, he\r
+had merely kept the necessary terms, without forming at it any useful\r
+acquaintance. The subjection in which his father had brought him up had\r
+given him originally great humility of manner; but it was now a\r
+good deal counteracted by the self-conceit of a weak head, living in\r
+retirement, and the consequential feelings of early and unexpected\r
+prosperity. A fortunate chance had recommended him to Lady Catherine de\r
+Bourgh when the living of Hunsford was vacant; and the respect which\r
+he felt for her high rank, and his veneration for her as his patroness,\r
+mingling with a very good opinion of himself, of his authority as a\r
+clergyman, and his right as a rector, made him altogether a mixture of\r
+pride and obsequiousness, self-importance and humility.\r
+\r
+Having now a good house and a very sufficient income, he intended to\r
+marry; and in seeking a reconciliation with the Longbourn family he had\r
+a wife in view, as he meant to choose one of the daughters, if he found\r
+them as handsome and amiable as they were represented by common report.\r
+This was his plan of amends--of atonement--for inheriting their father's\r
+estate; and he thought it an excellent one, full of eligibility and\r
+suitableness, and excessively generous and disinterested on his own\r
+part.\r
+\r
+His plan did not vary on seeing them. Miss Bennet's lovely face\r
+confirmed his views, and established all his strictest notions of what\r
+was due to seniority; and for the first evening _she_ was his settled\r
+choice. The next morning, however, made an alteration; for in a\r
+quarter of an hour's tete-a-tete with Mrs. Bennet before breakfast, a\r
+conversation beginning with his parsonage-house, and leading naturally\r
+to the avowal of his hopes, that a mistress might be found for it at\r
+Longbourn, produced from her, amid very complaisant smiles and general\r
+encouragement, a caution against the very Jane he had fixed on. "As to\r
+her _younger_ daughters, she could not take upon her to say--she could\r
+not positively answer--but she did not _know_ of any prepossession; her\r
+_eldest_ daughter, she must just mention--she felt it incumbent on her\r
+to hint, was likely to be very soon engaged."\r
+\r
+Mr. Collins had only to change from Jane to Elizabeth--and it was soon\r
+done--done while Mrs. Bennet was stirring the fire. Elizabeth, equally\r
+next to Jane in birth and beauty, succeeded her of course.\r
+\r
+Mrs. Bennet treasured up the hint, and trusted that she might soon have\r
+two daughters married; and the man whom she could not bear to speak of\r
+the day before was now high in her good graces.\r
+\r
+Lydia's intention of walking to Meryton was not forgotten; every sister\r
+except Mary agreed to go with her; and Mr. Collins was to attend them,\r
+at the request of Mr. Bennet, who was most anxious to get rid of him,\r
+and have his library to himself; for thither Mr. Collins had followed\r
+him after breakfast; and there he would continue, nominally engaged with\r
+one of the largest folios in the collection, but really talking to Mr.\r
+Bennet, with little cessation, of his house and garden at Hunsford. Such\r
+doings discomposed Mr. Bennet exceedingly. In his library he had been\r
+always sure of leisure and tranquillity; and though prepared, as he told\r
+Elizabeth, to meet with folly and conceit in every other room of the\r
+house, he was used to be free from them there; his civility, therefore,\r
+was most prompt in inviting Mr. Collins to join his daughters in their\r
+walk; and Mr. Collins, being in fact much better fitted for a walker\r
+than a reader, was extremely pleased to close his large book, and go.\r
+\r
+In pompous nothings on his side, and civil assents on that of his\r
+cousins, their time passed till they entered Meryton. The attention of\r
+the younger ones was then no longer to be gained by him. Their eyes were\r
+immediately wandering up in the street in quest of the officers, and\r
+nothing less than a very smart bonnet indeed, or a really new muslin in\r
+a shop window, could recall them.\r
+\r
+But the attention of every lady was soon caught by a young man, whom\r
+they had never seen before, of most gentlemanlike appearance, walking\r
+with another officer on the other side of the way. The officer was\r
+the very Mr. Denny concerning whose return from London Lydia came\r
+to inquire, and he bowed as they passed. All were struck with the\r
+stranger's air, all wondered who he could be; and Kitty and Lydia,\r
+determined if possible to find out, led the way across the street, under\r
+pretense of wanting something in an opposite shop, and fortunately\r
+had just gained the pavement when the two gentlemen, turning back, had\r
+reached the same spot. Mr. Denny addressed them directly, and entreated\r
+permission to introduce his friend, Mr. Wickham, who had returned with\r
+him the day before from town, and he was happy to say had accepted a\r
+commission in their corps. This was exactly as it should be; for the\r
+young man wanted only regimentals to make him completely charming.\r
+His appearance was greatly in his favour; he had all the best part of\r
+beauty, a fine countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address.\r
+The introduction was followed up on his side by a happy readiness\r
+of conversation--a readiness at the same time perfectly correct and\r
+unassuming; and the whole party were still standing and talking together\r
+very agreeably, when the sound of horses drew their notice, and Darcy\r
+and Bingley were seen riding down the street. On distinguishing the\r
+ladies of the group, the two gentlemen came directly towards them, and\r
+began the usual civilities. Bingley was the principal spokesman, and\r
+Miss Bennet the principal object. He was then, he said, on his way to\r
+Longbourn on purpose to inquire after her. Mr. Darcy corroborated\r
+it with a bow, and was beginning to determine not to fix his eyes\r
+on Elizabeth, when they were suddenly arrested by the sight of the\r
+stranger, and Elizabeth happening to see the countenance of both as they\r
+looked at each other, was all astonishment at the effect of the meeting.\r
+Both changed colour, one looked white, the other red. Mr. Wickham,\r
+after a few moments, touched his hat--a salutation which Mr. Darcy just\r
+deigned to return. What could be the meaning of it? It was impossible to\r
+imagine; it was impossible not to long to know.\r
+\r
+In another minute, Mr. Bingley, but without seeming to have noticed what\r
+passed, took leave and rode on with his friend.\r
+\r
+Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham walked with the young ladies to the door of\r
+Mr. Phillip's house, and then made their bows, in spite of Miss Lydia's\r
+pressing entreaties that they should come in, and even in spite of\r
+Mrs. Phillips's throwing up the parlour window and loudly seconding the\r
+invitation.\r
+\r
+Mrs. Phillips was always glad to see her nieces; and the two eldest,\r
+from their recent absence, were particularly welcome, and she was\r
+eagerly expressing her surprise at their sudden return home, which, as\r
+their own carriage had not fetched them, she should have known nothing\r
+about, if she had not happened to see Mr. Jones's shop-boy in the\r
+street, who had told her that they were not to send any more draughts to\r
+Netherfield because the Miss Bennets were come away, when her civility\r
+was claimed towards Mr. Collins by Jane's introduction of him. She\r
+received him with her very best politeness, which he returned with\r
+as much more, apologising for his intrusion, without any previous\r
+acquaintance with her, which he could not help flattering himself,\r
+however, might be justified by his relationship to the young ladies who\r
+introduced him to her notice. Mrs. Phillips was quite awed by such an\r
+excess of good breeding; but her contemplation of one stranger was soon\r
+put to an end by exclamations and inquiries about the other; of whom,\r
+however, she could only tell her nieces what they already knew, that\r
+Mr. Denny had brought him from London, and that he was to have a\r
+lieutenant's commission in the ----shire. She had been watching him the\r
+last hour, she said, as he walked up and down the street, and had Mr.\r
+Wickham appeared, Kitty and Lydia would certainly have continued the\r
+occupation, but unluckily no one passed windows now except a few of the\r
+officers, who, in comparison with the stranger, were become "stupid,\r
+disagreeable fellows." Some of them were to dine with the Phillipses\r
+the next day, and their aunt promised to make her husband call on Mr.\r
+Wickham, and give him an invitation also, if the family from Longbourn\r
+would come in the evening. This was agreed to, and Mrs. Phillips\r
+protested that they would have a nice comfortable noisy game of lottery\r
+tickets, and a little bit of hot supper afterwards. The prospect of such\r
+delights was very cheering, and they parted in mutual good spirits. Mr.\r
+Collins repeated his apologies in quitting the room, and was assured\r
+with unwearying civility that they were perfectly needless.\r
+\r
+As they walked home, Elizabeth related to Jane what she had seen pass\r
+between the two gentlemen; but though Jane would have defended either\r
+or both, had they appeared to be in the wrong, she could no more explain\r
+such behaviour than her sister.\r
+\r
+Mr. Collins on his return highly gratified Mrs. Bennet by admiring\r
+Mrs. Phillips's manners and politeness. He protested that, except Lady\r
+Catherine and her daughter, he had never seen a more elegant woman;\r
+for she had not only received him with the utmost civility, but even\r
+pointedly included him in her invitation for the next evening, although\r
+utterly unknown to her before. Something, he supposed, might be\r
+attributed to his connection with them, but yet he had never met with so\r
+much attention in the whole course of his life.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 16\r
+\r
+\r
+As no objection was made to the young people's engagement with their\r
+aunt, and all Mr. Collins's scruples of leaving Mr. and Mrs. Bennet for\r
+a single evening during his visit were most steadily resisted, the coach\r
+conveyed him and his five cousins at a suitable hour to Meryton; and\r
+the girls had the pleasure of hearing, as they entered the drawing-room,\r
+that Mr. Wickham had accepted their uncle's invitation, and was then in\r
+the house.\r
+\r
+When this information was given, and they had all taken their seats, Mr.\r
+Collins was at leisure to look around him and admire, and he was so much\r
+struck with the size and furniture of the apartment, that he declared he\r
+might almost have supposed himself in the small summer breakfast\r
+parlour at Rosings; a comparison that did not at first convey much\r
+gratification; but when Mrs. Phillips understood from him what\r
+Rosings was, and who was its proprietor--when she had listened to the\r
+description of only one of Lady Catherine's drawing-rooms, and found\r
+that the chimney-piece alone had cost eight hundred pounds, she felt all\r
+the force of the compliment, and would hardly have resented a comparison\r
+with the housekeeper's room.\r
+\r
+In describing to her all the grandeur of Lady Catherine and her mansion,\r
+with occasional digressions in praise of his own humble abode, and\r
+the improvements it was receiving, he was happily employed until the\r
+gentlemen joined them; and he found in Mrs. Phillips a very attentive\r
+listener, whose opinion of his consequence increased with what she\r
+heard, and who was resolving to retail it all among her neighbours as\r
+soon as she could. To the girls, who could not listen to their cousin,\r
+and who had nothing to do but to wish for an instrument, and examine\r
+their own indifferent imitations of china on the mantelpiece, the\r
+interval of waiting appeared very long. It was over at last, however.\r
+The gentlemen did approach, and when Mr. Wickham walked into the room,\r
+Elizabeth felt that she had neither been seeing him before, nor thinking\r
+of him since, with the smallest degree of unreasonable admiration.\r
+The officers of the ----shire were in general a very creditable,\r
+gentlemanlike set, and the best of them were of the present party; but\r
+Mr. Wickham was as far beyond them all in person, countenance, air, and\r
+walk, as _they_ were superior to the broad-faced, stuffy uncle Phillips,\r
+breathing port wine, who followed them into the room.\r
+\r
+Mr. Wickham was the happy man towards whom almost every female eye was\r
+turned, and Elizabeth was the happy woman by whom he finally seated\r
+himself; and the agreeable manner in which he immediately fell into\r
+conversation, though it was only on its being a wet night, made her feel\r
+that the commonest, dullest, most threadbare topic might be rendered\r
+interesting by the skill of the speaker.\r
+\r
+With such rivals for the notice of the fair as Mr. Wickham and the\r
+officers, Mr. Collins seemed to sink into insignificance; to the young\r
+ladies he certainly was nothing; but he had still at intervals a kind\r
+listener in Mrs. Phillips, and was by her watchfulness, most abundantly\r
+supplied with coffee and muffin. When the card-tables were placed, he\r
+had the opportunity of obliging her in turn, by sitting down to whist.\r
+\r
+"I know little of the game at present," said he, "but I shall be glad\r
+to improve myself, for in my situation in life--" Mrs. Phillips was very\r
+glad for his compliance, but could not wait for his reason.\r
+\r
+Mr. Wickham did not play at whist, and with ready delight was he\r
+received at the other table between Elizabeth and Lydia. At first there\r
+seemed danger of Lydia's engrossing him entirely, for she was a most\r
+determined talker; but being likewise extremely fond of lottery tickets,\r
+she soon grew too much interested in the game, too eager in making bets\r
+and exclaiming after prizes to have attention for anyone in particular.\r
+Allowing for the common demands of the game, Mr. Wickham was therefore\r
+at leisure to talk to Elizabeth, and she was very willing to hear\r
+him, though what she chiefly wished to hear she could not hope to be\r
+told--the history of his acquaintance with Mr. Darcy. She dared not\r
+even mention that gentleman. Her curiosity, however, was unexpectedly\r
+relieved. Mr. Wickham began the subject himself. He inquired how far\r
+Netherfield was from Meryton; and, after receiving her answer, asked in\r
+a hesitating manner how long Mr. Darcy had been staying there.\r
+\r
+"About a month," said Elizabeth; and then, unwilling to let the subject\r
+drop, added, "He is a man of very large property in Derbyshire, I\r
+understand."\r
+\r
+"Yes," replied Mr. Wickham; "his estate there is a noble one. A clear\r
+ten thousand per annum. You could not have met with a person more\r
+capable of giving you certain information on that head than myself, for\r
+I have been connected with his family in a particular manner from my\r
+infancy."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth could not but look surprised.\r
+\r
+"You may well be surprised, Miss Bennet, at such an assertion, after\r
+seeing, as you probably might, the very cold manner of our meeting\r
+yesterday. Are you much acquainted with Mr. Darcy?"\r
+\r
+"As much as I ever wish to be," cried Elizabeth very warmly. "I have\r
+spent four days in the same house with him, and I think him very\r
+disagreeable."\r
+\r
+"I have no right to give _my_ opinion," said Wickham, "as to his being\r
+agreeable or otherwise. I am not qualified to form one. I have known him\r
+too long and too well to be a fair judge. It is impossible for _me_\r
+to be impartial. But I believe your opinion of him would in general\r
+astonish--and perhaps you would not express it quite so strongly\r
+anywhere else. Here you are in your own family."\r
+\r
+"Upon my word, I say no more _here_ than I might say in any house in\r
+the neighbourhood, except Netherfield. He is not at all liked in\r
+Hertfordshire. Everybody is disgusted with his pride. You will not find\r
+him more favourably spoken of by anyone."\r
+\r
+"I cannot pretend to be sorry," said Wickham, after a short\r
+interruption, "that he or that any man should not be estimated beyond\r
+their deserts; but with _him_ I believe it does not often happen. The\r
+world is blinded by his fortune and consequence, or frightened by his\r
+high and imposing manners, and sees him only as he chooses to be seen."\r
+\r
+"I should take him, even on _my_ slight acquaintance, to be an\r
+ill-tempered man." Wickham only shook his head.\r
+\r
+"I wonder," said he, at the next opportunity of speaking, "whether he is\r
+likely to be in this country much longer."\r
+\r
+"I do not at all know; but I _heard_ nothing of his going away when I\r
+was at Netherfield. I hope your plans in favour of the ----shire will\r
+not be affected by his being in the neighbourhood."\r
+\r
+"Oh! no--it is not for _me_ to be driven away by Mr. Darcy. If _he_\r
+wishes to avoid seeing _me_, he must go. We are not on friendly terms,\r
+and it always gives me pain to meet him, but I have no reason for\r
+avoiding _him_ but what I might proclaim before all the world, a sense\r
+of very great ill-usage, and most painful regrets at his being what he\r
+is. His father, Miss Bennet, the late Mr. Darcy, was one of the best men\r
+that ever breathed, and the truest friend I ever had; and I can never\r
+be in company with this Mr. Darcy without being grieved to the soul by\r
+a thousand tender recollections. His behaviour to myself has been\r
+scandalous; but I verily believe I could forgive him anything and\r
+everything, rather than his disappointing the hopes and disgracing the\r
+memory of his father."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth found the interest of the subject increase, and listened with\r
+all her heart; but the delicacy of it prevented further inquiry.\r
+\r
+Mr. Wickham began to speak on more general topics, Meryton, the\r
+neighbourhood, the society, appearing highly pleased with all that\r
+he had yet seen, and speaking of the latter with gentle but very\r
+intelligible gallantry.\r
+\r
+"It was the prospect of constant society, and good society," he added,\r
+"which was my chief inducement to enter the ----shire. I knew it to be\r
+a most respectable, agreeable corps, and my friend Denny tempted me\r
+further by his account of their present quarters, and the very great\r
+attentions and excellent acquaintances Meryton had procured them.\r
+Society, I own, is necessary to me. I have been a disappointed man, and\r
+my spirits will not bear solitude. I _must_ have employment and society.\r
+A military life is not what I was intended for, but circumstances have\r
+now made it eligible. The church _ought_ to have been my profession--I\r
+was brought up for the church, and I should at this time have been in\r
+possession of a most valuable living, had it pleased the gentleman we\r
+were speaking of just now."\r
+\r
+"Indeed!"\r
+\r
+"Yes--the late Mr. Darcy bequeathed me the next presentation of the best\r
+living in his gift. He was my godfather, and excessively attached to me.\r
+I cannot do justice to his kindness. He meant to provide for me amply,\r
+and thought he had done it; but when the living fell, it was given\r
+elsewhere."\r
+\r
+"Good heavens!" cried Elizabeth; "but how could _that_ be? How could his\r
+will be disregarded? Why did you not seek legal redress?"\r
+\r
+"There was just such an informality in the terms of the bequest as to\r
+give me no hope from law. A man of honour could not have doubted the\r
+intention, but Mr. Darcy chose to doubt it--or to treat it as a merely\r
+conditional recommendation, and to assert that I had forfeited all claim\r
+to it by extravagance, imprudence--in short anything or nothing. Certain\r
+it is, that the living became vacant two years ago, exactly as I was\r
+of an age to hold it, and that it was given to another man; and no\r
+less certain is it, that I cannot accuse myself of having really done\r
+anything to deserve to lose it. I have a warm, unguarded temper, and\r
+I may have spoken my opinion _of_ him, and _to_ him, too freely. I can\r
+recall nothing worse. But the fact is, that we are very different sort\r
+of men, and that he hates me."\r
+\r
+"This is quite shocking! He deserves to be publicly disgraced."\r
+\r
+"Some time or other he _will_ be--but it shall not be by _me_. Till I\r
+can forget his father, I can never defy or expose _him_."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth honoured him for such feelings, and thought him handsomer than\r
+ever as he expressed them.\r
+\r
+"But what," said she, after a pause, "can have been his motive? What can\r
+have induced him to behave so cruelly?"\r
+\r
+"A thorough, determined dislike of me--a dislike which I cannot but\r
+attribute in some measure to jealousy. Had the late Mr. Darcy liked me\r
+less, his son might have borne with me better; but his father's uncommon\r
+attachment to me irritated him, I believe, very early in life. He had\r
+not a temper to bear the sort of competition in which we stood--the sort\r
+of preference which was often given me."\r
+\r
+"I had not thought Mr. Darcy so bad as this--though I have never liked\r
+him. I had not thought so very ill of him. I had supposed him to be\r
+despising his fellow-creatures in general, but did not suspect him of\r
+descending to such malicious revenge, such injustice, such inhumanity as\r
+this."\r
+\r
+After a few minutes' reflection, however, she continued, "I _do_\r
+remember his boasting one day, at Netherfield, of the implacability of\r
+his resentments, of his having an unforgiving temper. His disposition\r
+must be dreadful."\r
+\r
+"I will not trust myself on the subject," replied Wickham; "I can hardly\r
+be just to him."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth was again deep in thought, and after a time exclaimed, "To\r
+treat in such a manner the godson, the friend, the favourite of his\r
+father!" She could have added, "A young man, too, like _you_, whose very\r
+countenance may vouch for your being amiable"--but she contented herself\r
+with, "and one, too, who had probably been his companion from childhood,\r
+connected together, as I think you said, in the closest manner!"\r
+\r
+"We were born in the same parish, within the same park; the greatest\r
+part of our youth was passed together; inmates of the same house,\r
+sharing the same amusements, objects of the same parental care. _My_\r
+father began life in the profession which your uncle, Mr. Phillips,\r
+appears to do so much credit to--but he gave up everything to be of\r
+use to the late Mr. Darcy and devoted all his time to the care of the\r
+Pemberley property. He was most highly esteemed by Mr. Darcy, a most\r
+intimate, confidential friend. Mr. Darcy often acknowledged himself to\r
+be under the greatest obligations to my father's active superintendence,\r
+and when, immediately before my father's death, Mr. Darcy gave him a\r
+voluntary promise of providing for me, I am convinced that he felt it to\r
+be as much a debt of gratitude to _him_, as of his affection to myself."\r
+\r
+"How strange!" cried Elizabeth. "How abominable! I wonder that the very\r
+pride of this Mr. Darcy has not made him just to you! If from no better\r
+motive, that he should not have been too proud to be dishonest--for\r
+dishonesty I must call it."\r
+\r
+"It _is_ wonderful," replied Wickham, "for almost all his actions may\r
+be traced to pride; and pride had often been his best friend. It has\r
+connected him nearer with virtue than with any other feeling. But we are\r
+none of us consistent, and in his behaviour to me there were stronger\r
+impulses even than pride."\r
+\r
+"Can such abominable pride as his have ever done him good?"\r
+\r
+"Yes. It has often led him to be liberal and generous, to give his money\r
+freely, to display hospitality, to assist his tenants, and relieve the\r
+poor. Family pride, and _filial_ pride--for he is very proud of what\r
+his father was--have done this. Not to appear to disgrace his family,\r
+to degenerate from the popular qualities, or lose the influence of the\r
+Pemberley House, is a powerful motive. He has also _brotherly_ pride,\r
+which, with _some_ brotherly affection, makes him a very kind and\r
+careful guardian of his sister, and you will hear him generally cried up\r
+as the most attentive and best of brothers."\r
+\r
+"What sort of girl is Miss Darcy?"\r
+\r
+He shook his head. "I wish I could call her amiable. It gives me pain to\r
+speak ill of a Darcy. But she is too much like her brother--very, very\r
+proud. As a child, she was affectionate and pleasing, and extremely fond\r
+of me; and I have devoted hours and hours to her amusement. But she is\r
+nothing to me now. She is a handsome girl, about fifteen or sixteen,\r
+and, I understand, highly accomplished. Since her father's death, her\r
+home has been London, where a lady lives with her, and superintends her\r
+education."\r
+\r
+After many pauses and many trials of other subjects, Elizabeth could not\r
+help reverting once more to the first, and saying:\r
+\r
+"I am astonished at his intimacy with Mr. Bingley! How can Mr. Bingley,\r
+who seems good humour itself, and is, I really believe, truly amiable,\r
+be in friendship with such a man? How can they suit each other? Do you\r
+know Mr. Bingley?"\r
+\r
+"Not at all."\r
+\r
+"He is a sweet-tempered, amiable, charming man. He cannot know what Mr.\r
+Darcy is."\r
+\r
+"Probably not; but Mr. Darcy can please where he chooses. He does not\r
+want abilities. He can be a conversible companion if he thinks it worth\r
+his while. Among those who are at all his equals in consequence, he is\r
+a very different man from what he is to the less prosperous. His\r
+pride never deserts him; but with the rich he is liberal-minded, just,\r
+sincere, rational, honourable, and perhaps agreeable--allowing something\r
+for fortune and figure."\r
+\r
+The whist party soon afterwards breaking up, the players gathered round\r
+the other table and Mr. Collins took his station between his cousin\r
+Elizabeth and Mrs. Phillips. The usual inquiries as to his success were\r
+made by the latter. It had not been very great; he had lost every\r
+point; but when Mrs. Phillips began to express her concern thereupon,\r
+he assured her with much earnest gravity that it was not of the least\r
+importance, that he considered the money as a mere trifle, and begged\r
+that she would not make herself uneasy.\r
+\r
+"I know very well, madam," said he, "that when persons sit down to a\r
+card-table, they must take their chances of these things, and happily I\r
+am not in such circumstances as to make five shillings any object. There\r
+are undoubtedly many who could not say the same, but thanks to Lady\r
+Catherine de Bourgh, I am removed far beyond the necessity of regarding\r
+little matters."\r
+\r
+Mr. Wickham's attention was caught; and after observing Mr. Collins for\r
+a few moments, he asked Elizabeth in a low voice whether her relation\r
+was very intimately acquainted with the family of de Bourgh.\r
+\r
+"Lady Catherine de Bourgh," she replied, "has very lately given him\r
+a living. I hardly know how Mr. Collins was first introduced to her\r
+notice, but he certainly has not known her long."\r
+\r
+"You know of course that Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Lady Anne Darcy\r
+were sisters; consequently that she is aunt to the present Mr. Darcy."\r
+\r
+"No, indeed, I did not. I knew nothing at all of Lady Catherine's\r
+connections. I never heard of her existence till the day before\r
+yesterday."\r
+\r
+"Her daughter, Miss de Bourgh, will have a very large fortune, and it is\r
+believed that she and her cousin will unite the two estates."\r
+\r
+This information made Elizabeth smile, as she thought of poor Miss\r
+Bingley. Vain indeed must be all her attentions, vain and useless her\r
+affection for his sister and her praise of himself, if he were already\r
+self-destined for another.\r
+\r
+"Mr. Collins," said she, "speaks highly both of Lady Catherine and her\r
+daughter; but from some particulars that he has related of her ladyship,\r
+I suspect his gratitude misleads him, and that in spite of her being his\r
+patroness, she is an arrogant, conceited woman."\r
+\r
+"I believe her to be both in a great degree," replied Wickham; "I have\r
+not seen her for many years, but I very well remember that I never liked\r
+her, and that her manners were dictatorial and insolent. She has the\r
+reputation of being remarkably sensible and clever; but I rather believe\r
+she derives part of her abilities from her rank and fortune, part from\r
+her authoritative manner, and the rest from the pride for her\r
+nephew, who chooses that everyone connected with him should have an\r
+understanding of the first class."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth allowed that he had given a very rational account of it, and\r
+they continued talking together, with mutual satisfaction till supper\r
+put an end to cards, and gave the rest of the ladies their share of Mr.\r
+Wickham's attentions. There could be no conversation in the noise\r
+of Mrs. Phillips's supper party, but his manners recommended him to\r
+everybody. Whatever he said, was said well; and whatever he did, done\r
+gracefully. Elizabeth went away with her head full of him. She could\r
+think of nothing but of Mr. Wickham, and of what he had told her, all\r
+the way home; but there was not time for her even to mention his name\r
+as they went, for neither Lydia nor Mr. Collins were once silent. Lydia\r
+talked incessantly of lottery tickets, of the fish she had lost and the\r
+fish she had won; and Mr. Collins in describing the civility of Mr. and\r
+Mrs. Phillips, protesting that he did not in the least regard his losses\r
+at whist, enumerating all the dishes at supper, and repeatedly fearing\r
+that he crowded his cousins, had more to say than he could well manage\r
+before the carriage stopped at Longbourn House.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 17\r
+\r
+\r
+Elizabeth related to Jane the next day what had passed between Mr.\r
+Wickham and herself. Jane listened with astonishment and concern; she\r
+knew not how to believe that Mr. Darcy could be so unworthy of Mr.\r
+Bingley's regard; and yet, it was not in her nature to question the\r
+veracity of a young man of such amiable appearance as Wickham. The\r
+possibility of his having endured such unkindness, was enough to\r
+interest all her tender feelings; and nothing remained therefore to be\r
+done, but to think well of them both, to defend the conduct of each,\r
+and throw into the account of accident or mistake whatever could not be\r
+otherwise explained.\r
+\r
+"They have both," said she, "been deceived, I dare say, in some way\r
+or other, of which we can form no idea. Interested people have perhaps\r
+misrepresented each to the other. It is, in short, impossible for us to\r
+conjecture the causes or circumstances which may have alienated them,\r
+without actual blame on either side."\r
+\r
+"Very true, indeed; and now, my dear Jane, what have you got to say on\r
+behalf of the interested people who have probably been concerned in the\r
+business? Do clear _them_ too, or we shall be obliged to think ill of\r
+somebody."\r
+\r
+"Laugh as much as you choose, but you will not laugh me out of my\r
+opinion. My dearest Lizzy, do but consider in what a disgraceful light\r
+it places Mr. Darcy, to be treating his father's favourite in such\r
+a manner, one whom his father had promised to provide for. It is\r
+impossible. No man of common humanity, no man who had any value for his\r
+character, could be capable of it. Can his most intimate friends be so\r
+excessively deceived in him? Oh! no."\r
+\r
+"I can much more easily believe Mr. Bingley's being imposed on, than\r
+that Mr. Wickham should invent such a history of himself as he gave me\r
+last night; names, facts, everything mentioned without ceremony. If it\r
+be not so, let Mr. Darcy contradict it. Besides, there was truth in his\r
+looks."\r
+\r
+"It is difficult indeed--it is distressing. One does not know what to\r
+think."\r
+\r
+"I beg your pardon; one knows exactly what to think."\r
+\r
+But Jane could think with certainty on only one point--that Mr. Bingley,\r
+if he _had_ been imposed on, would have much to suffer when the affair\r
+became public.\r
+\r
+The two young ladies were summoned from the shrubbery, where this\r
+conversation passed, by the arrival of the very persons of whom they had\r
+been speaking; Mr. Bingley and his sisters came to give their personal\r
+invitation for the long-expected ball at Netherfield, which was fixed\r
+for the following Tuesday. The two ladies were delighted to see their\r
+dear friend again, called it an age since they had met, and repeatedly\r
+asked what she had been doing with herself since their separation. To\r
+the rest of the family they paid little attention; avoiding Mrs. Bennet\r
+as much as possible, saying not much to Elizabeth, and nothing at all to\r
+the others. They were soon gone again, rising from their seats with an\r
+activity which took their brother by surprise, and hurrying off as if\r
+eager to escape from Mrs. Bennet's civilities.\r
+\r
+The prospect of the Netherfield ball was extremely agreeable to every\r
+female of the family. Mrs. Bennet chose to consider it as given in\r
+compliment to her eldest daughter, and was particularly flattered\r
+by receiving the invitation from Mr. Bingley himself, instead of a\r
+ceremonious card. Jane pictured to herself a happy evening in the\r
+society of her two friends, and the attentions of their brother; and\r
+Elizabeth thought with pleasure of dancing a great deal with Mr.\r
+Wickham, and of seeing a confirmation of everything in Mr. Darcy's look\r
+and behaviour. The happiness anticipated by Catherine and Lydia depended\r
+less on any single event, or any particular person, for though they\r
+each, like Elizabeth, meant to dance half the evening with Mr. Wickham,\r
+he was by no means the only partner who could satisfy them, and a ball\r
+was, at any rate, a ball. And even Mary could assure her family that she\r
+had no disinclination for it.\r
+\r
+"While I can have my mornings to myself," said she, "it is enough--I\r
+think it is no sacrifice to join occasionally in evening engagements.\r
+Society has claims on us all; and I profess myself one of those\r
+who consider intervals of recreation and amusement as desirable for\r
+everybody."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth's spirits were so high on this occasion, that though she did\r
+not often speak unnecessarily to Mr. Collins, she could not help asking\r
+him whether he intended to accept Mr. Bingley's invitation, and if\r
+he did, whether he would think it proper to join in the evening's\r
+amusement; and she was rather surprised to find that he entertained no\r
+scruple whatever on that head, and was very far from dreading a rebuke\r
+either from the Archbishop, or Lady Catherine de Bourgh, by venturing to\r
+dance.\r
+\r
+"I am by no means of the opinion, I assure you," said he, "that a ball\r
+of this kind, given by a young man of character, to respectable people,\r
+can have any evil tendency; and I am so far from objecting to dancing\r
+myself, that I shall hope to be honoured with the hands of all my fair\r
+cousins in the course of the evening; and I take this opportunity of\r
+soliciting yours, Miss Elizabeth, for the two first dances especially,\r
+a preference which I trust my cousin Jane will attribute to the right\r
+cause, and not to any disrespect for her."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth felt herself completely taken in. She had fully proposed being\r
+engaged by Mr. Wickham for those very dances; and to have Mr. Collins\r
+instead! her liveliness had never been worse timed. There was no help\r
+for it, however. Mr. Wickham's happiness and her own were perforce\r
+delayed a little longer, and Mr. Collins's proposal accepted with as\r
+good a grace as she could. She was not the better pleased with his\r
+gallantry from the idea it suggested of something more. It now first\r
+struck her, that _she_ was selected from among her sisters as worthy\r
+of being mistress of Hunsford Parsonage, and of assisting to form a\r
+quadrille table at Rosings, in the absence of more eligible visitors.\r
+The idea soon reached to conviction, as she observed his increasing\r
+civilities toward herself, and heard his frequent attempt at a\r
+compliment on her wit and vivacity; and though more astonished than\r
+gratified herself by this effect of her charms, it was not long before\r
+her mother gave her to understand that the probability of their marriage\r
+was extremely agreeable to _her_. Elizabeth, however, did not choose\r
+to take the hint, being well aware that a serious dispute must be the\r
+consequence of any reply. Mr. Collins might never make the offer, and\r
+till he did, it was useless to quarrel about him.\r
+\r
+If there had not been a Netherfield ball to prepare for and talk of, the\r
+younger Miss Bennets would have been in a very pitiable state at this\r
+time, for from the day of the invitation, to the day of the ball, there\r
+was such a succession of rain as prevented their walking to Meryton\r
+once. No aunt, no officers, no news could be sought after--the very\r
+shoe-roses for Netherfield were got by proxy. Even Elizabeth might have\r
+found some trial of her patience in weather which totally suspended the\r
+improvement of her acquaintance with Mr. Wickham; and nothing less than\r
+a dance on Tuesday, could have made such a Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and\r
+Monday endurable to Kitty and Lydia.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 18\r
+\r
+\r
+Till Elizabeth entered the drawing-room at Netherfield, and looked in\r
+vain for Mr. Wickham among the cluster of red coats there assembled, a\r
+doubt of his being present had never occurred to her. The certainty\r
+of meeting him had not been checked by any of those recollections that\r
+might not unreasonably have alarmed her. She had dressed with more than\r
+usual care, and prepared in the highest spirits for the conquest of all\r
+that remained unsubdued of his heart, trusting that it was not more than\r
+might be won in the course of the evening. But in an instant arose\r
+the dreadful suspicion of his being purposely omitted for Mr. Darcy's\r
+pleasure in the Bingleys' invitation to the officers; and though\r
+this was not exactly the case, the absolute fact of his absence was\r
+pronounced by his friend Denny, to whom Lydia eagerly applied, and who\r
+told them that Wickham had been obliged to go to town on business the\r
+day before, and was not yet returned; adding, with a significant smile,\r
+"I do not imagine his business would have called him away just now, if\r
+he had not wanted to avoid a certain gentleman here."\r
+\r
+This part of his intelligence, though unheard by Lydia, was caught by\r
+Elizabeth, and, as it assured her that Darcy was not less answerable for\r
+Wickham's absence than if her first surmise had been just, every\r
+feeling of displeasure against the former was so sharpened by immediate\r
+disappointment, that she could hardly reply with tolerable civility to\r
+the polite inquiries which he directly afterwards approached to make.\r
+Attendance, forbearance, patience with Darcy, was injury to Wickham. She\r
+was resolved against any sort of conversation with him, and turned away\r
+with a degree of ill-humour which she could not wholly surmount even in\r
+speaking to Mr. Bingley, whose blind partiality provoked her.\r
+\r
+But Elizabeth was not formed for ill-humour; and though every prospect\r
+of her own was destroyed for the evening, it could not dwell long on her\r
+spirits; and having told all her griefs to Charlotte Lucas, whom she had\r
+not seen for a week, she was soon able to make a voluntary transition\r
+to the oddities of her cousin, and to point him out to her particular\r
+notice. The first two dances, however, brought a return of distress;\r
+they were dances of mortification. Mr. Collins, awkward and solemn,\r
+apologising instead of attending, and often moving wrong without being\r
+aware of it, gave her all the shame and misery which a disagreeable\r
+partner for a couple of dances can give. The moment of her release from\r
+him was ecstasy.\r
+\r
+She danced next with an officer, and had the refreshment of talking of\r
+Wickham, and of hearing that he was universally liked. When those dances\r
+were over, she returned to Charlotte Lucas, and was in conversation with\r
+her, when she found herself suddenly addressed by Mr. Darcy who took\r
+her so much by surprise in his application for her hand, that,\r
+without knowing what she did, she accepted him. He walked away again\r
+immediately, and she was left to fret over her own want of presence of\r
+mind; Charlotte tried to console her:\r
+\r
+"I dare say you will find him very agreeable."\r
+\r
+"Heaven forbid! _That_ would be the greatest misfortune of all! To find\r
+a man agreeable whom one is determined to hate! Do not wish me such an\r
+evil."\r
+\r
+When the dancing recommenced, however, and Darcy approached to claim her\r
+hand, Charlotte could not help cautioning her in a whisper, not to be a\r
+simpleton, and allow her fancy for Wickham to make her appear unpleasant\r
+in the eyes of a man ten times his consequence. Elizabeth made no\r
+answer, and took her place in the set, amazed at the dignity to which\r
+she was arrived in being allowed to stand opposite to Mr. Darcy, and\r
+reading in her neighbours' looks, their equal amazement in beholding\r
+it. They stood for some time without speaking a word; and she began to\r
+imagine that their silence was to last through the two dances, and at\r
+first was resolved not to break it; till suddenly fancying that it would\r
+be the greater punishment to her partner to oblige him to talk, she made\r
+some slight observation on the dance. He replied, and was again\r
+silent. After a pause of some minutes, she addressed him a second time\r
+with:--"It is _your_ turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. I talked\r
+about the dance, and _you_ ought to make some sort of remark on the size\r
+of the room, or the number of couples."\r
+\r
+He smiled, and assured her that whatever she wished him to say should be\r
+said.\r
+\r
+"Very well. That reply will do for the present. Perhaps by and by I may\r
+observe that private balls are much pleasanter than public ones. But\r
+_now_ we may be silent."\r
+\r
+"Do you talk by rule, then, while you are dancing?"\r
+\r
+"Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be\r
+entirely silent for half an hour together; and yet for the advantage of\r
+_some_, conversation ought to be so arranged, as that they may have the\r
+trouble of saying as little as possible."\r
+\r
+"Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you\r
+imagine that you are gratifying mine?"\r
+\r
+"Both," replied Elizabeth archly; "for I have always seen a great\r
+similarity in the turn of our minds. We are each of an unsocial,\r
+taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say\r
+something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to\r
+posterity with all the eclat of a proverb."\r
+\r
+"This is no very striking resemblance of your own character, I am sure,"\r
+said he. "How near it may be to _mine_, I cannot pretend to say. _You_\r
+think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly."\r
+\r
+"I must not decide on my own performance."\r
+\r
+He made no answer, and they were again silent till they had gone down\r
+the dance, when he asked her if she and her sisters did not very often\r
+walk to Meryton. She answered in the affirmative, and, unable to resist\r
+the temptation, added, "When you met us there the other day, we had just\r
+been forming a new acquaintance."\r
+\r
+The effect was immediate. A deeper shade of _hauteur_ overspread his\r
+features, but he said not a word, and Elizabeth, though blaming herself\r
+for her own weakness, could not go on. At length Darcy spoke, and in a\r
+constrained manner said, "Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners\r
+as may ensure his _making_ friends--whether he may be equally capable of\r
+_retaining_ them, is less certain."\r
+\r
+"He has been so unlucky as to lose _your_ friendship," replied Elizabeth\r
+with emphasis, "and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all\r
+his life."\r
+\r
+Darcy made no answer, and seemed desirous of changing the subject. At\r
+that moment, Sir William Lucas appeared close to them, meaning to pass\r
+through the set to the other side of the room; but on perceiving Mr.\r
+Darcy, he stopped with a bow of superior courtesy to compliment him on\r
+his dancing and his partner.\r
+\r
+"I have been most highly gratified indeed, my dear sir. Such very\r
+superior dancing is not often seen. It is evident that you belong to the\r
+first circles. Allow me to say, however, that your fair partner does not\r
+disgrace you, and that I must hope to have this pleasure often repeated,\r
+especially when a certain desirable event, my dear Eliza (glancing at\r
+her sister and Bingley) shall take place. What congratulations will then\r
+flow in! I appeal to Mr. Darcy:--but let me not interrupt you, sir. You\r
+will not thank me for detaining you from the bewitching converse of that\r
+young lady, whose bright eyes are also upbraiding me."\r
+\r
+The latter part of this address was scarcely heard by Darcy; but Sir\r
+William's allusion to his friend seemed to strike him forcibly, and his\r
+eyes were directed with a very serious expression towards Bingley and\r
+Jane, who were dancing together. Recovering himself, however, shortly,\r
+he turned to his partner, and said, "Sir William's interruption has made\r
+me forget what we were talking of."\r
+\r
+"I do not think we were speaking at all. Sir William could not have\r
+interrupted two people in the room who had less to say for themselves.\r
+We have tried two or three subjects already without success, and what we\r
+are to talk of next I cannot imagine."\r
+\r
+"What think you of books?" said he, smiling.\r
+\r
+"Books--oh! no. I am sure we never read the same, or not with the same\r
+feelings."\r
+\r
+"I am sorry you think so; but if that be the case, there can at least be\r
+no want of subject. We may compare our different opinions."\r
+\r
+"No--I cannot talk of books in a ball-room; my head is always full of\r
+something else."\r
+\r
+"The _present_ always occupies you in such scenes--does it?" said he,\r
+with a look of doubt.\r
+\r
+"Yes, always," she replied, without knowing what she said, for her\r
+thoughts had wandered far from the subject, as soon afterwards appeared\r
+by her suddenly exclaiming, "I remember hearing you once say, Mr. Darcy,\r
+that you hardly ever forgave, that your resentment once created was\r
+unappeasable. You are very cautious, I suppose, as to its _being\r
+created_."\r
+\r
+"I am," said he, with a firm voice.\r
+\r
+"And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?"\r
+\r
+"I hope not."\r
+\r
+"It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion,\r
+to be secure of judging properly at first."\r
+\r
+"May I ask to what these questions tend?"\r
+\r
+"Merely to the illustration of _your_ character," said she, endeavouring\r
+to shake off her gravity. "I am trying to make it out."\r
+\r
+"And what is your success?"\r
+\r
+She shook her head. "I do not get on at all. I hear such different\r
+accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly."\r
+\r
+"I can readily believe," answered he gravely, "that reports may vary\r
+greatly with respect to me; and I could wish, Miss Bennet, that you were\r
+not to sketch my character at the present moment, as there is reason to\r
+fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either."\r
+\r
+"But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another\r
+opportunity."\r
+\r
+"I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours," he coldly replied.\r
+She said no more, and they went down the other dance and parted in\r
+silence; and on each side dissatisfied, though not to an equal degree,\r
+for in Darcy's breast there was a tolerably powerful feeling towards\r
+her, which soon procured her pardon, and directed all his anger against\r
+another.\r
+\r
+They had not long separated, when Miss Bingley came towards her, and\r
+with an expression of civil disdain accosted her:\r
+\r
+"So, Miss Eliza, I hear you are quite delighted with George Wickham!\r
+Your sister has been talking to me about him, and asking me a thousand\r
+questions; and I find that the young man quite forgot to tell you, among\r
+his other communication, that he was the son of old Wickham, the late\r
+Mr. Darcy's steward. Let me recommend you, however, as a friend, not to\r
+give implicit confidence to all his assertions; for as to Mr. Darcy's\r
+using him ill, it is perfectly false; for, on the contrary, he has\r
+always been remarkably kind to him, though George Wickham has treated\r
+Mr. Darcy in a most infamous manner. I do not know the particulars, but\r
+I know very well that Mr. Darcy is not in the least to blame, that he\r
+cannot bear to hear George Wickham mentioned, and that though my brother\r
+thought that he could not well avoid including him in his invitation to\r
+the officers, he was excessively glad to find that he had taken himself\r
+out of the way. His coming into the country at all is a most insolent\r
+thing, indeed, and I wonder how he could presume to do it. I pity you,\r
+Miss Eliza, for this discovery of your favourite's guilt; but really,\r
+considering his descent, one could not expect much better."\r
+\r
+"His guilt and his descent appear by your account to be the same," said\r
+Elizabeth angrily; "for I have heard you accuse him of nothing worse\r
+than of being the son of Mr. Darcy's steward, and of _that_, I can\r
+assure you, he informed me himself."\r
+\r
+"I beg your pardon," replied Miss Bingley, turning away with a sneer.\r
+"Excuse my interference--it was kindly meant."\r
+\r
+"Insolent girl!" said Elizabeth to herself. "You are much mistaken\r
+if you expect to influence me by such a paltry attack as this. I see\r
+nothing in it but your own wilful ignorance and the malice of Mr.\r
+Darcy." She then sought her eldest sister, who had undertaken to make\r
+inquiries on the same subject of Bingley. Jane met her with a smile of\r
+such sweet complacency, a glow of such happy expression, as sufficiently\r
+marked how well she was satisfied with the occurrences of the evening.\r
+Elizabeth instantly read her feelings, and at that moment solicitude for\r
+Wickham, resentment against his enemies, and everything else, gave way\r
+before the hope of Jane's being in the fairest way for happiness.\r
+\r
+"I want to know," said she, with a countenance no less smiling than her\r
+sister's, "what you have learnt about Mr. Wickham. But perhaps you have\r
+been too pleasantly engaged to think of any third person; in which case\r
+you may be sure of my pardon."\r
+\r
+"No," replied Jane, "I have not forgotten him; but I have nothing\r
+satisfactory to tell you. Mr. Bingley does not know the whole of\r
+his history, and is quite ignorant of the circumstances which have\r
+principally offended Mr. Darcy; but he will vouch for the good conduct,\r
+the probity, and honour of his friend, and is perfectly convinced that\r
+Mr. Wickham has deserved much less attention from Mr. Darcy than he has\r
+received; and I am sorry to say by his account as well as his sister's,\r
+Mr. Wickham is by no means a respectable young man. I am afraid he has\r
+been very imprudent, and has deserved to lose Mr. Darcy's regard."\r
+\r
+"Mr. Bingley does not know Mr. Wickham himself?"\r
+\r
+"No; he never saw him till the other morning at Meryton."\r
+\r
+"This account then is what he has received from Mr. Darcy. I am\r
+satisfied. But what does he say of the living?"\r
+\r
+"He does not exactly recollect the circumstances, though he has heard\r
+them from Mr. Darcy more than once, but he believes that it was left to\r
+him _conditionally_ only."\r
+\r
+"I have not a doubt of Mr. Bingley's sincerity," said Elizabeth warmly;\r
+"but you must excuse my not being convinced by assurances only. Mr.\r
+Bingley's defense of his friend was a very able one, I dare say; but\r
+since he is unacquainted with several parts of the story, and has learnt\r
+the rest from that friend himself, I shall venture to still think of\r
+both gentlemen as I did before."\r
+\r
+She then changed the discourse to one more gratifying to each, and on\r
+which there could be no difference of sentiment. Elizabeth listened with\r
+delight to the happy, though modest hopes which Jane entertained of Mr.\r
+Bingley's regard, and said all in her power to heighten her confidence\r
+in it. On their being joined by Mr. Bingley himself, Elizabeth withdrew\r
+to Miss Lucas; to whose inquiry after the pleasantness of her last\r
+partner she had scarcely replied, before Mr. Collins came up to them,\r
+and told her with great exultation that he had just been so fortunate as\r
+to make a most important discovery.\r
+\r
+"I have found out," said he, "by a singular accident, that there is now\r
+in the room a near relation of my patroness. I happened to overhear the\r
+gentleman himself mentioning to the young lady who does the honours of\r
+the house the names of his cousin Miss de Bourgh, and of her mother Lady\r
+Catherine. How wonderfully these sort of things occur! Who would have\r
+thought of my meeting with, perhaps, a nephew of Lady Catherine de\r
+Bourgh in this assembly! I am most thankful that the discovery is made\r
+in time for me to pay my respects to him, which I am now going to\r
+do, and trust he will excuse my not having done it before. My total\r
+ignorance of the connection must plead my apology."\r
+\r
+"You are not going to introduce yourself to Mr. Darcy!"\r
+\r
+"Indeed I am. I shall entreat his pardon for not having done it earlier.\r
+I believe him to be Lady Catherine's _nephew_. It will be in my power to\r
+assure him that her ladyship was quite well yesterday se'nnight."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth tried hard to dissuade him from such a scheme, assuring him\r
+that Mr. Darcy would consider his addressing him without introduction\r
+as an impertinent freedom, rather than a compliment to his aunt; that\r
+it was not in the least necessary there should be any notice on either\r
+side; and that if it were, it must belong to Mr. Darcy, the superior in\r
+consequence, to begin the acquaintance. Mr. Collins listened to her\r
+with the determined air of following his own inclination, and, when she\r
+ceased speaking, replied thus:\r
+\r
+"My dear Miss Elizabeth, I have the highest opinion in the world in\r
+your excellent judgement in all matters within the scope of your\r
+understanding; but permit me to say, that there must be a wide\r
+difference between the established forms of ceremony amongst the laity,\r
+and those which regulate the clergy; for, give me leave to observe that\r
+I consider the clerical office as equal in point of dignity with\r
+the highest rank in the kingdom--provided that a proper humility of\r
+behaviour is at the same time maintained. You must therefore allow me to\r
+follow the dictates of my conscience on this occasion, which leads me to\r
+perform what I look on as a point of duty. Pardon me for neglecting to\r
+profit by your advice, which on every other subject shall be my constant\r
+guide, though in the case before us I consider myself more fitted by\r
+education and habitual study to decide on what is right than a young\r
+lady like yourself." And with a low bow he left her to attack Mr.\r
+Darcy, whose reception of his advances she eagerly watched, and whose\r
+astonishment at being so addressed was very evident. Her cousin prefaced\r
+his speech with a solemn bow and though she could not hear a word of\r
+it, she felt as if hearing it all, and saw in the motion of his lips the\r
+words "apology," "Hunsford," and "Lady Catherine de Bourgh." It vexed\r
+her to see him expose himself to such a man. Mr. Darcy was eyeing him\r
+with unrestrained wonder, and when at last Mr. Collins allowed him time\r
+to speak, replied with an air of distant civility. Mr. Collins, however,\r
+was not discouraged from speaking again, and Mr. Darcy's contempt seemed\r
+abundantly increasing with the length of his second speech, and at the\r
+end of it he only made him a slight bow, and moved another way. Mr.\r
+Collins then returned to Elizabeth.\r
+\r
+"I have no reason, I assure you," said he, "to be dissatisfied with my\r
+reception. Mr. Darcy seemed much pleased with the attention. He answered\r
+me with the utmost civility, and even paid me the compliment of saying\r
+that he was so well convinced of Lady Catherine's discernment as to be\r
+certain she could never bestow a favour unworthily. It was really a very\r
+handsome thought. Upon the whole, I am much pleased with him."\r
+\r
+As Elizabeth had no longer any interest of her own to pursue, she turned\r
+her attention almost entirely on her sister and Mr. Bingley; and the\r
+train of agreeable reflections which her observations gave birth to,\r
+made her perhaps almost as happy as Jane. She saw her in idea settled in\r
+that very house, in all the felicity which a marriage of true affection\r
+could bestow; and she felt capable, under such circumstances, of\r
+endeavouring even to like Bingley's two sisters. Her mother's thoughts\r
+she plainly saw were bent the same way, and she determined not to\r
+venture near her, lest she might hear too much. When they sat down to\r
+supper, therefore, she considered it a most unlucky perverseness which\r
+placed them within one of each other; and deeply was she vexed to find\r
+that her mother was talking to that one person (Lady Lucas) freely,\r
+openly, and of nothing else but her expectation that Jane would soon\r
+be married to Mr. Bingley. It was an animating subject, and Mrs. Bennet\r
+seemed incapable of fatigue while enumerating the advantages of the\r
+match. His being such a charming young man, and so rich, and living but\r
+three miles from them, were the first points of self-gratulation; and\r
+then it was such a comfort to think how fond the two sisters were of\r
+Jane, and to be certain that they must desire the connection as much as\r
+she could do. It was, moreover, such a promising thing for her younger\r
+daughters, as Jane's marrying so greatly must throw them in the way of\r
+other rich men; and lastly, it was so pleasant at her time of life to be\r
+able to consign her single daughters to the care of their sister, that\r
+she might not be obliged to go into company more than she liked. It was\r
+necessary to make this circumstance a matter of pleasure, because on\r
+such occasions it is the etiquette; but no one was less likely than Mrs.\r
+Bennet to find comfort in staying home at any period of her life. She\r
+concluded with many good wishes that Lady Lucas might soon be equally\r
+fortunate, though evidently and triumphantly believing there was no\r
+chance of it.\r
+\r
+In vain did Elizabeth endeavour to check the rapidity of her mother's\r
+words, or persuade her to describe her felicity in a less audible\r
+whisper; for, to her inexpressible vexation, she could perceive that the\r
+chief of it was overheard by Mr. Darcy, who sat opposite to them. Her\r
+mother only scolded her for being nonsensical.\r
+\r
+"What is Mr. Darcy to me, pray, that I should be afraid of him? I am\r
+sure we owe him no such particular civility as to be obliged to say\r
+nothing _he_ may not like to hear."\r
+\r
+"For heaven's sake, madam, speak lower. What advantage can it be for you\r
+to offend Mr. Darcy? You will never recommend yourself to his friend by\r
+so doing!"\r
+\r
+Nothing that she could say, however, had any influence. Her mother would\r
+talk of her views in the same intelligible tone. Elizabeth blushed and\r
+blushed again with shame and vexation. She could not help frequently\r
+glancing her eye at Mr. Darcy, though every glance convinced her of what\r
+she dreaded; for though he was not always looking at her mother, she was\r
+convinced that his attention was invariably fixed by her. The expression\r
+of his face changed gradually from indignant contempt to a composed and\r
+steady gravity.\r
+\r
+At length, however, Mrs. Bennet had no more to say; and Lady Lucas, who\r
+had been long yawning at the repetition of delights which she saw no\r
+likelihood of sharing, was left to the comforts of cold ham and\r
+chicken. Elizabeth now began to revive. But not long was the interval of\r
+tranquillity; for, when supper was over, singing was talked of, and\r
+she had the mortification of seeing Mary, after very little entreaty,\r
+preparing to oblige the company. By many significant looks and silent\r
+entreaties, did she endeavour to prevent such a proof of complaisance,\r
+but in vain; Mary would not understand them; such an opportunity of\r
+exhibiting was delightful to her, and she began her song. Elizabeth's\r
+eyes were fixed on her with most painful sensations, and she watched her\r
+progress through the several stanzas with an impatience which was very\r
+ill rewarded at their close; for Mary, on receiving, amongst the thanks\r
+of the table, the hint of a hope that she might be prevailed on to\r
+favour them again, after the pause of half a minute began another.\r
+Mary's powers were by no means fitted for such a display; her voice was\r
+weak, and her manner affected. Elizabeth was in agonies. She looked at\r
+Jane, to see how she bore it; but Jane was very composedly talking to\r
+Bingley. She looked at his two sisters, and saw them making signs\r
+of derision at each other, and at Darcy, who continued, however,\r
+imperturbably grave. She looked at her father to entreat his\r
+interference, lest Mary should be singing all night. He took the hint,\r
+and when Mary had finished her second song, said aloud, "That will do\r
+extremely well, child. You have delighted us long enough. Let the other\r
+young ladies have time to exhibit."\r
+\r
+Mary, though pretending not to hear, was somewhat disconcerted; and\r
+Elizabeth, sorry for her, and sorry for her father's speech, was afraid\r
+her anxiety had done no good. Others of the party were now applied to.\r
+\r
+"If I," said Mr. Collins, "were so fortunate as to be able to sing, I\r
+should have great pleasure, I am sure, in obliging the company with an\r
+air; for I consider music as a very innocent diversion, and perfectly\r
+compatible with the profession of a clergyman. I do not mean, however,\r
+to assert that we can be justified in devoting too much of our time\r
+to music, for there are certainly other things to be attended to. The\r
+rector of a parish has much to do. In the first place, he must make\r
+such an agreement for tithes as may be beneficial to himself and not\r
+offensive to his patron. He must write his own sermons; and the time\r
+that remains will not be too much for his parish duties, and the care\r
+and improvement of his dwelling, which he cannot be excused from making\r
+as comfortable as possible. And I do not think it of light importance\r
+that he should have attentive and conciliatory manners towards everybody,\r
+especially towards those to whom he owes his preferment. I cannot acquit\r
+him of that duty; nor could I think well of the man who should omit an\r
+occasion of testifying his respect towards anybody connected with the\r
+family." And with a bow to Mr. Darcy, he concluded his speech, which had\r
+been spoken so loud as to be heard by half the room. Many stared--many\r
+smiled; but no one looked more amused than Mr. Bennet himself, while his\r
+wife seriously commended Mr. Collins for having spoken so sensibly,\r
+and observed in a half-whisper to Lady Lucas, that he was a remarkably\r
+clever, good kind of young man.\r
+\r
+To Elizabeth it appeared that, had her family made an agreement to\r
+expose themselves as much as they could during the evening, it would\r
+have been impossible for them to play their parts with more spirit or\r
+finer success; and happy did she think it for Bingley and her sister\r
+that some of the exhibition had escaped his notice, and that his\r
+feelings were not of a sort to be much distressed by the folly which he\r
+must have witnessed. That his two sisters and Mr. Darcy, however, should\r
+have such an opportunity of ridiculing her relations, was bad enough,\r
+and she could not determine whether the silent contempt of the\r
+gentleman, or the insolent smiles of the ladies, were more intolerable.\r
+\r
+The rest of the evening brought her little amusement. She was teased by\r
+Mr. Collins, who continued most perseveringly by her side, and though\r
+he could not prevail on her to dance with him again, put it out of her\r
+power to dance with others. In vain did she entreat him to stand up with\r
+somebody else, and offer to introduce him to any young lady in the room.\r
+He assured her, that as to dancing, he was perfectly indifferent to it;\r
+that his chief object was by delicate attentions to recommend himself to\r
+her and that he should therefore make a point of remaining close to her\r
+the whole evening. There was no arguing upon such a project. She owed\r
+her greatest relief to her friend Miss Lucas, who often joined them, and\r
+good-naturedly engaged Mr. Collins's conversation to herself.\r
+\r
+She was at least free from the offense of Mr. Darcy's further notice;\r
+though often standing within a very short distance of her, quite\r
+disengaged, he never came near enough to speak. She felt it to be the\r
+probable consequence of her allusions to Mr. Wickham, and rejoiced in\r
+it.\r
+\r
+The Longbourn party were the last of all the company to depart, and, by\r
+a manoeuvre of Mrs. Bennet, had to wait for their carriage a quarter of\r
+an hour after everybody else was gone, which gave them time to see how\r
+heartily they were wished away by some of the family. Mrs. Hurst and her\r
+sister scarcely opened their mouths, except to complain of fatigue, and\r
+were evidently impatient to have the house to themselves. They repulsed\r
+every attempt of Mrs. Bennet at conversation, and by so doing threw a\r
+languor over the whole party, which was very little relieved by the\r
+long speeches of Mr. Collins, who was complimenting Mr. Bingley and his\r
+sisters on the elegance of their entertainment, and the hospitality and\r
+politeness which had marked their behaviour to their guests. Darcy said\r
+nothing at all. Mr. Bennet, in equal silence, was enjoying the scene.\r
+Mr. Bingley and Jane were standing together, a little detached from the\r
+rest, and talked only to each other. Elizabeth preserved as steady a\r
+silence as either Mrs. Hurst or Miss Bingley; and even Lydia was too\r
+much fatigued to utter more than the occasional exclamation of "Lord,\r
+how tired I am!" accompanied by a violent yawn.\r
+\r
+When at length they arose to take leave, Mrs. Bennet was most pressingly\r
+civil in her hope of seeing the whole family soon at Longbourn, and\r
+addressed herself especially to Mr. Bingley, to assure him how happy he\r
+would make them by eating a family dinner with them at any time, without\r
+the ceremony of a formal invitation. Bingley was all grateful pleasure,\r
+and he readily engaged for taking the earliest opportunity of waiting on\r
+her, after his return from London, whither he was obliged to go the next\r
+day for a short time.\r
+\r
+Mrs. Bennet was perfectly satisfied, and quitted the house under the\r
+delightful persuasion that, allowing for the necessary preparations of\r
+settlements, new carriages, and wedding clothes, she should undoubtedly\r
+see her daughter settled at Netherfield in the course of three or four\r
+months. Of having another daughter married to Mr. Collins, she thought\r
+with equal certainty, and with considerable, though not equal, pleasure.\r
+Elizabeth was the least dear to her of all her children; and though the\r
+man and the match were quite good enough for _her_, the worth of each\r
+was eclipsed by Mr. Bingley and Netherfield.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 19\r
+\r
+\r
+The next day opened a new scene at Longbourn. Mr. Collins made his\r
+declaration in form. Having resolved to do it without loss of time, as\r
+his leave of absence extended only to the following Saturday, and having\r
+no feelings of diffidence to make it distressing to himself even at\r
+the moment, he set about it in a very orderly manner, with all the\r
+observances, which he supposed a regular part of the business. On\r
+finding Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth, and one of the younger girls together,\r
+soon after breakfast, he addressed the mother in these words:\r
+\r
+"May I hope, madam, for your interest with your fair daughter Elizabeth,\r
+when I solicit for the honour of a private audience with her in the\r
+course of this morning?"\r
+\r
+Before Elizabeth had time for anything but a blush of surprise, Mrs.\r
+Bennet answered instantly, "Oh dear!--yes--certainly. I am sure Lizzy\r
+will be very happy--I am sure she can have no objection. Come, Kitty, I\r
+want you up stairs." And, gathering her work together, she was hastening\r
+away, when Elizabeth called out:\r
+\r
+"Dear madam, do not go. I beg you will not go. Mr. Collins must excuse\r
+me. He can have nothing to say to me that anybody need not hear. I am\r
+going away myself."\r
+\r
+"No, no, nonsense, Lizzy. I desire you to stay where you are." And upon\r
+Elizabeth's seeming really, with vexed and embarrassed looks, about to\r
+escape, she added: "Lizzy, I _insist_ upon your staying and hearing Mr.\r
+Collins."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth would not oppose such an injunction--and a moment's\r
+consideration making her also sensible that it would be wisest to get it\r
+over as soon and as quietly as possible, she sat down again and tried to\r
+conceal, by incessant employment the feelings which were divided between\r
+distress and diversion. Mrs. Bennet and Kitty walked off, and as soon as\r
+they were gone, Mr. Collins began.\r
+\r
+"Believe me, my dear Miss Elizabeth, that your modesty, so far from\r
+doing you any disservice, rather adds to your other perfections. You\r
+would have been less amiable in my eyes had there _not_ been this little\r
+unwillingness; but allow me to assure you, that I have your respected\r
+mother's permission for this address. You can hardly doubt the\r
+purport of my discourse, however your natural delicacy may lead you to\r
+dissemble; my attentions have been too marked to be mistaken. Almost as\r
+soon as I entered the house, I singled you out as the companion of\r
+my future life. But before I am run away with by my feelings on this\r
+subject, perhaps it would be advisable for me to state my reasons for\r
+marrying--and, moreover, for coming into Hertfordshire with the design\r
+of selecting a wife, as I certainly did."\r
+\r
+The idea of Mr. Collins, with all his solemn composure, being run away\r
+with by his feelings, made Elizabeth so near laughing, that she could\r
+not use the short pause he allowed in any attempt to stop him further,\r
+and he continued:\r
+\r
+"My reasons for marrying are, first, that I think it a right thing for\r
+every clergyman in easy circumstances (like myself) to set the example\r
+of matrimony in his parish; secondly, that I am convinced that it will\r
+add very greatly to my happiness; and thirdly--which perhaps I ought\r
+to have mentioned earlier, that it is the particular advice and\r
+recommendation of the very noble lady whom I have the honour of calling\r
+patroness. Twice has she condescended to give me her opinion (unasked\r
+too!) on this subject; and it was but the very Saturday night before I\r
+left Hunsford--between our pools at quadrille, while Mrs. Jenkinson was\r
+arranging Miss de Bourgh's footstool, that she said, 'Mr. Collins, you\r
+must marry. A clergyman like you must marry. Choose properly, choose\r
+a gentlewoman for _my_ sake; and for your _own_, let her be an active,\r
+useful sort of person, not brought up high, but able to make a small\r
+income go a good way. This is my advice. Find such a woman as soon as\r
+you can, bring her to Hunsford, and I will visit her.' Allow me, by the\r
+way, to observe, my fair cousin, that I do not reckon the notice\r
+and kindness of Lady Catherine de Bourgh as among the least of the\r
+advantages in my power to offer. You will find her manners beyond\r
+anything I can describe; and your wit and vivacity, I think, must be\r
+acceptable to her, especially when tempered with the silence and\r
+respect which her rank will inevitably excite. Thus much for my general\r
+intention in favour of matrimony; it remains to be told why my views\r
+were directed towards Longbourn instead of my own neighbourhood, where I\r
+can assure you there are many amiable young women. But the fact is, that\r
+being, as I am, to inherit this estate after the death of your honoured\r
+father (who, however, may live many years longer), I could not satisfy\r
+myself without resolving to choose a wife from among his daughters, that\r
+the loss to them might be as little as possible, when the melancholy\r
+event takes place--which, however, as I have already said, may not\r
+be for several years. This has been my motive, my fair cousin, and\r
+I flatter myself it will not sink me in your esteem. And now nothing\r
+remains for me but to assure you in the most animated language of the\r
+violence of my affection. To fortune I am perfectly indifferent, and\r
+shall make no demand of that nature on your father, since I am well\r
+aware that it could not be complied with; and that one thousand pounds\r
+in the four per cents, which will not be yours till after your mother's\r
+decease, is all that you may ever be entitled to. On that head,\r
+therefore, I shall be uniformly silent; and you may assure yourself that\r
+no ungenerous reproach shall ever pass my lips when we are married."\r
+\r
+It was absolutely necessary to interrupt him now.\r
+\r
+"You are too hasty, sir," she cried. "You forget that I have made no\r
+answer. Let me do it without further loss of time. Accept my thanks for\r
+the compliment you are paying me. I am very sensible of the honour of\r
+your proposals, but it is impossible for me to do otherwise than to\r
+decline them."\r
+\r
+"I am not now to learn," replied Mr. Collins, with a formal wave of the\r
+hand, "that it is usual with young ladies to reject the addresses of the\r
+man whom they secretly mean to accept, when he first applies for their\r
+favour; and that sometimes the refusal is repeated a second, or even a\r
+third time. I am therefore by no means discouraged by what you have just\r
+said, and shall hope to lead you to the altar ere long."\r
+\r
+"Upon my word, sir," cried Elizabeth, "your hope is a rather\r
+extraordinary one after my declaration. I do assure you that I am not\r
+one of those young ladies (if such young ladies there are) who are so\r
+daring as to risk their happiness on the chance of being asked a second\r
+time. I am perfectly serious in my refusal. You could not make _me_\r
+happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who\r
+could make you so. Nay, were your friend Lady Catherine to know me, I\r
+am persuaded she would find me in every respect ill qualified for the\r
+situation."\r
+\r
+"Were it certain that Lady Catherine would think so," said Mr. Collins\r
+very gravely--"but I cannot imagine that her ladyship would at all\r
+disapprove of you. And you may be certain when I have the honour of\r
+seeing her again, I shall speak in the very highest terms of your\r
+modesty, economy, and other amiable qualification."\r
+\r
+"Indeed, Mr. Collins, all praise of me will be unnecessary. You\r
+must give me leave to judge for myself, and pay me the compliment\r
+of believing what I say. I wish you very happy and very rich, and by\r
+refusing your hand, do all in my power to prevent your being otherwise.\r
+In making me the offer, you must have satisfied the delicacy of your\r
+feelings with regard to my family, and may take possession of Longbourn\r
+estate whenever it falls, without any self-reproach. This matter may\r
+be considered, therefore, as finally settled." And rising as she\r
+thus spoke, she would have quitted the room, had Mr. Collins not thus\r
+addressed her:\r
+\r
+"When I do myself the honour of speaking to you next on the subject, I\r
+shall hope to receive a more favourable answer than you have now given\r
+me; though I am far from accusing you of cruelty at present, because I\r
+know it to be the established custom of your sex to reject a man on\r
+the first application, and perhaps you have even now said as much to\r
+encourage my suit as would be consistent with the true delicacy of the\r
+female character."\r
+\r
+"Really, Mr. Collins," cried Elizabeth with some warmth, "you puzzle me\r
+exceedingly. If what I have hitherto said can appear to you in the form\r
+of encouragement, I know not how to express my refusal in such a way as\r
+to convince you of its being one."\r
+\r
+"You must give me leave to flatter myself, my dear cousin, that your\r
+refusal of my addresses is merely words of course. My reasons for\r
+believing it are briefly these: It does not appear to me that my hand is\r
+unworthy of your acceptance, or that the establishment I can offer would\r
+be any other than highly desirable. My situation in life, my connections\r
+with the family of de Bourgh, and my relationship to your own, are\r
+circumstances highly in my favour; and you should take it into further\r
+consideration, that in spite of your manifold attractions, it is by no\r
+means certain that another offer of marriage may ever be made you. Your\r
+portion is unhappily so small that it will in all likelihood undo\r
+the effects of your loveliness and amiable qualifications. As I must\r
+therefore conclude that you are not serious in your rejection of me,\r
+I shall choose to attribute it to your wish of increasing my love by\r
+suspense, according to the usual practice of elegant females."\r
+\r
+"I do assure you, sir, that I have no pretensions whatever to that kind\r
+of elegance which consists in tormenting a respectable man. I would\r
+rather be paid the compliment of being believed sincere. I thank you\r
+again and again for the honour you have done me in your proposals, but\r
+to accept them is absolutely impossible. My feelings in every respect\r
+forbid it. Can I speak plainer? Do not consider me now as an elegant\r
+female, intending to plague you, but as a rational creature, speaking\r
+the truth from her heart."\r
+\r
+"You are uniformly charming!" cried he, with an air of awkward\r
+gallantry; "and I am persuaded that when sanctioned by the express\r
+authority of both your excellent parents, my proposals will not fail of\r
+being acceptable."\r
+\r
+To such perseverance in wilful self-deception Elizabeth would make\r
+no reply, and immediately and in silence withdrew; determined, if\r
+he persisted in considering her repeated refusals as flattering\r
+encouragement, to apply to her father, whose negative might be uttered\r
+in such a manner as to be decisive, and whose behaviour at least could\r
+not be mistaken for the affectation and coquetry of an elegant female.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 20\r
+\r
+\r
+Mr. Collins was not left long to the silent contemplation of his\r
+successful love; for Mrs. Bennet, having dawdled about in the vestibule\r
+to watch for the end of the conference, no sooner saw Elizabeth open\r
+the door and with quick step pass her towards the staircase, than she\r
+entered the breakfast-room, and congratulated both him and herself in\r
+warm terms on the happy prospect of their nearer connection. Mr. Collins\r
+received and returned these felicitations with equal pleasure, and then\r
+proceeded to relate the particulars of their interview, with the result\r
+of which he trusted he had every reason to be satisfied, since the\r
+refusal which his cousin had steadfastly given him would naturally flow\r
+from her bashful modesty and the genuine delicacy of her character.\r
+\r
+This information, however, startled Mrs. Bennet; she would have been\r
+glad to be equally satisfied that her daughter had meant to encourage\r
+him by protesting against his proposals, but she dared not believe it,\r
+and could not help saying so.\r
+\r
+"But, depend upon it, Mr. Collins," she added, "that Lizzy shall be\r
+brought to reason. I will speak to her about it directly. She is a very\r
+headstrong, foolish girl, and does not know her own interest but I will\r
+_make_ her know it."\r
+\r
+"Pardon me for interrupting you, madam," cried Mr. Collins; "but if\r
+she is really headstrong and foolish, I know not whether she would\r
+altogether be a very desirable wife to a man in my situation, who\r
+naturally looks for happiness in the marriage state. If therefore she\r
+actually persists in rejecting my suit, perhaps it were better not\r
+to force her into accepting me, because if liable to such defects of\r
+temper, she could not contribute much to my felicity."\r
+\r
+"Sir, you quite misunderstand me," said Mrs. Bennet, alarmed. "Lizzy is\r
+only headstrong in such matters as these. In everything else she is as\r
+good-natured a girl as ever lived. I will go directly to Mr. Bennet, and\r
+we shall very soon settle it with her, I am sure."\r
+\r
+She would not give him time to reply, but hurrying instantly to her\r
+husband, called out as she entered the library, "Oh! Mr. Bennet, you\r
+are wanted immediately; we are all in an uproar. You must come and make\r
+Lizzy marry Mr. Collins, for she vows she will not have him, and if you\r
+do not make haste he will change his mind and not have _her_."\r
+\r
+Mr. Bennet raised his eyes from his book as she entered, and fixed them\r
+on her face with a calm unconcern which was not in the least altered by\r
+her communication.\r
+\r
+"I have not the pleasure of understanding you," said he, when she had\r
+finished her speech. "Of what are you talking?"\r
+\r
+"Of Mr. Collins and Lizzy. Lizzy declares she will not have Mr. Collins,\r
+and Mr. Collins begins to say that he will not have Lizzy."\r
+\r
+"And what am I to do on the occasion? It seems an hopeless business."\r
+\r
+"Speak to Lizzy about it yourself. Tell her that you insist upon her\r
+marrying him."\r
+\r
+"Let her be called down. She shall hear my opinion."\r
+\r
+Mrs. Bennet rang the bell, and Miss Elizabeth was summoned to the\r
+library.\r
+\r
+"Come here, child," cried her father as she appeared. "I have sent for\r
+you on an affair of importance. I understand that Mr. Collins has made\r
+you an offer of marriage. Is it true?" Elizabeth replied that it was.\r
+"Very well--and this offer of marriage you have refused?"\r
+\r
+"I have, sir."\r
+\r
+"Very well. We now come to the point. Your mother insists upon your\r
+accepting it. Is it not so, Mrs. Bennet?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, or I will never see her again."\r
+\r
+"An unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth. From this day you must\r
+be a stranger to one of your parents. Your mother will never see you\r
+again if you do _not_ marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again\r
+if you _do_."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth could not but smile at such a conclusion of such a beginning,\r
+but Mrs. Bennet, who had persuaded herself that her husband regarded the\r
+affair as she wished, was excessively disappointed.\r
+\r
+"What do you mean, Mr. Bennet, in talking this way? You promised me to\r
+_insist_ upon her marrying him."\r
+\r
+"My dear," replied her husband, "I have two small favours to request.\r
+First, that you will allow me the free use of my understanding on the\r
+present occasion; and secondly, of my room. I shall be glad to have the\r
+library to myself as soon as may be."\r
+\r
+Not yet, however, in spite of her disappointment in her husband, did\r
+Mrs. Bennet give up the point. She talked to Elizabeth again and again;\r
+coaxed and threatened her by turns. She endeavoured to secure Jane\r
+in her interest; but Jane, with all possible mildness, declined\r
+interfering; and Elizabeth, sometimes with real earnestness, and\r
+sometimes with playful gaiety, replied to her attacks. Though her manner\r
+varied, however, her determination never did.\r
+\r
+Mr. Collins, meanwhile, was meditating in solitude on what had passed.\r
+He thought too well of himself to comprehend on what motives his cousin\r
+could refuse him; and though his pride was hurt, he suffered in no other\r
+way. His regard for her was quite imaginary; and the possibility of her\r
+deserving her mother's reproach prevented his feeling any regret.\r
+\r
+While the family were in this confusion, Charlotte Lucas came to spend\r
+the day with them. She was met in the vestibule by Lydia, who, flying to\r
+her, cried in a half whisper, "I am glad you are come, for there is such\r
+fun here! What do you think has happened this morning? Mr. Collins has\r
+made an offer to Lizzy, and she will not have him."\r
+\r
+Charlotte hardly had time to answer, before they were joined by Kitty,\r
+who came to tell the same news; and no sooner had they entered the\r
+breakfast-room, where Mrs. Bennet was alone, than she likewise began on\r
+the subject, calling on Miss Lucas for her compassion, and entreating\r
+her to persuade her friend Lizzy to comply with the wishes of all her\r
+family. "Pray do, my dear Miss Lucas," she added in a melancholy tone,\r
+"for nobody is on my side, nobody takes part with me. I am cruelly used,\r
+nobody feels for my poor nerves."\r
+\r
+Charlotte's reply was spared by the entrance of Jane and Elizabeth.\r
+\r
+"Aye, there she comes," continued Mrs. Bennet, "looking as unconcerned\r
+as may be, and caring no more for us than if we were at York, provided\r
+she can have her own way. But I tell you, Miss Lizzy--if you take it\r
+into your head to go on refusing every offer of marriage in this way,\r
+you will never get a husband at all--and I am sure I do not know who is\r
+to maintain you when your father is dead. I shall not be able to keep\r
+you--and so I warn you. I have done with you from this very day. I told\r
+you in the library, you know, that I should never speak to you again,\r
+and you will find me as good as my word. I have no pleasure in talking\r
+to undutiful children. Not that I have much pleasure, indeed, in talking\r
+to anybody. People who suffer as I do from nervous complaints can have\r
+no great inclination for talking. Nobody can tell what I suffer! But it\r
+is always so. Those who do not complain are never pitied."\r
+\r
+Her daughters listened in silence to this effusion, sensible that\r
+any attempt to reason with her or soothe her would only increase the\r
+irritation. She talked on, therefore, without interruption from any of\r
+them, till they were joined by Mr. Collins, who entered the room with\r
+an air more stately than usual, and on perceiving whom, she said to\r
+the girls, "Now, I do insist upon it, that you, all of you, hold\r
+your tongues, and let me and Mr. Collins have a little conversation\r
+together."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth passed quietly out of the room, Jane and Kitty followed, but\r
+Lydia stood her ground, determined to hear all she could; and Charlotte,\r
+detained first by the civility of Mr. Collins, whose inquiries after\r
+herself and all her family were very minute, and then by a little\r
+curiosity, satisfied herself with walking to the window and pretending\r
+not to hear. In a doleful voice Mrs. Bennet began the projected\r
+conversation: "Oh! Mr. Collins!"\r
+\r
+"My dear madam," replied he, "let us be for ever silent on this point.\r
+Far be it from me," he presently continued, in a voice that marked his\r
+displeasure, "to resent the behaviour of your daughter. Resignation\r
+to inevitable evils is the duty of us all; the peculiar duty of a\r
+young man who has been so fortunate as I have been in early preferment;\r
+and I trust I am resigned. Perhaps not the less so from feeling a doubt\r
+of my positive happiness had my fair cousin honoured me with her hand;\r
+for I have often observed that resignation is never so perfect as\r
+when the blessing denied begins to lose somewhat of its value in our\r
+estimation. You will not, I hope, consider me as showing any disrespect\r
+to your family, my dear madam, by thus withdrawing my pretensions to\r
+your daughter's favour, without having paid yourself and Mr. Bennet the\r
+compliment of requesting you to interpose your authority in my\r
+behalf. My conduct may, I fear, be objectionable in having accepted my\r
+dismission from your daughter's lips instead of your own. But we are all\r
+liable to error. I have certainly meant well through the whole affair.\r
+My object has been to secure an amiable companion for myself, with due\r
+consideration for the advantage of all your family, and if my _manner_\r
+has been at all reprehensible, I here beg leave to apologise."\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 21\r
+\r
+\r
+The discussion of Mr. Collins's offer was now nearly at an end, and\r
+Elizabeth had only to suffer from the uncomfortable feelings necessarily\r
+attending it, and occasionally from some peevish allusions of her\r
+mother. As for the gentleman himself, _his_ feelings were chiefly\r
+expressed, not by embarrassment or dejection, or by trying to avoid her,\r
+but by stiffness of manner and resentful silence. He scarcely ever spoke\r
+to her, and the assiduous attentions which he had been so sensible of\r
+himself were transferred for the rest of the day to Miss Lucas, whose\r
+civility in listening to him was a seasonable relief to them all, and\r
+especially to her friend.\r
+\r
+The morrow produced no abatement of Mrs. Bennet's ill-humour or ill\r
+health. Mr. Collins was also in the same state of angry pride. Elizabeth\r
+had hoped that his resentment might shorten his visit, but his plan did\r
+not appear in the least affected by it. He was always to have gone on\r
+Saturday, and to Saturday he meant to stay.\r
+\r
+After breakfast, the girls walked to Meryton to inquire if Mr. Wickham\r
+were returned, and to lament over his absence from the Netherfield ball.\r
+He joined them on their entering the town, and attended them to their\r
+aunt's where his regret and vexation, and the concern of everybody, was\r
+well talked over. To Elizabeth, however, he voluntarily acknowledged\r
+that the necessity of his absence _had_ been self-imposed.\r
+\r
+"I found," said he, "as the time drew near that I had better not meet\r
+Mr. Darcy; that to be in the same room, the same party with him for so\r
+many hours together, might be more than I could bear, and that scenes\r
+might arise unpleasant to more than myself."\r
+\r
+She highly approved his forbearance, and they had leisure for a full\r
+discussion of it, and for all the commendation which they civilly\r
+bestowed on each other, as Wickham and another officer walked back with\r
+them to Longbourn, and during the walk he particularly attended to\r
+her. His accompanying them was a double advantage; she felt all the\r
+compliment it offered to herself, and it was most acceptable as an\r
+occasion of introducing him to her father and mother.\r
+\r
+Soon after their return, a letter was delivered to Miss Bennet; it came\r
+from Netherfield. The envelope contained a sheet of elegant, little,\r
+hot-pressed paper, well covered with a lady's fair, flowing hand; and\r
+Elizabeth saw her sister's countenance change as she read it, and saw\r
+her dwelling intently on some particular passages. Jane recollected\r
+herself soon, and putting the letter away, tried to join with her usual\r
+cheerfulness in the general conversation; but Elizabeth felt an anxiety\r
+on the subject which drew off her attention even from Wickham; and no\r
+sooner had he and his companion taken leave, than a glance from Jane\r
+invited her to follow her up stairs. When they had gained their own room,\r
+Jane, taking out the letter, said:\r
+\r
+"This is from Caroline Bingley; what it contains has surprised me a good\r
+deal. The whole party have left Netherfield by this time, and are on\r
+their way to town--and without any intention of coming back again. You\r
+shall hear what she says."\r
+\r
+She then read the first sentence aloud, which comprised the information\r
+of their having just resolved to follow their brother to town directly,\r
+and of their meaning to dine in Grosvenor Street, where Mr. Hurst had a\r
+house. The next was in these words: "I do not pretend to regret anything\r
+I shall leave in Hertfordshire, except your society, my dearest friend;\r
+but we will hope, at some future period, to enjoy many returns of that\r
+delightful intercourse we have known, and in the meanwhile may\r
+lessen the pain of separation by a very frequent and most unreserved\r
+correspondence. I depend on you for that." To these highflown\r
+expressions Elizabeth listened with all the insensibility of distrust;\r
+and though the suddenness of their removal surprised her, she saw\r
+nothing in it really to lament; it was not to be supposed that their\r
+absence from Netherfield would prevent Mr. Bingley's being there; and as\r
+to the loss of their society, she was persuaded that Jane must cease to\r
+regard it, in the enjoyment of his.\r
+\r
+"It is unlucky," said she, after a short pause, "that you should not be\r
+able to see your friends before they leave the country. But may we not\r
+hope that the period of future happiness to which Miss Bingley looks\r
+forward may arrive earlier than she is aware, and that the delightful\r
+intercourse you have known as friends will be renewed with yet greater\r
+satisfaction as sisters? Mr. Bingley will not be detained in London by\r
+them."\r
+\r
+"Caroline decidedly says that none of the party will return into\r
+Hertfordshire this winter. I will read it to you:"\r
+\r
+"When my brother left us yesterday, he imagined that the business which\r
+took him to London might be concluded in three or four days; but as we\r
+are certain it cannot be so, and at the same time convinced that when\r
+Charles gets to town he will be in no hurry to leave it again, we have\r
+determined on following him thither, that he may not be obliged to spend\r
+his vacant hours in a comfortless hotel. Many of my acquaintances are\r
+already there for the winter; I wish that I could hear that you, my\r
+dearest friend, had any intention of making one of the crowd--but of\r
+that I despair. I sincerely hope your Christmas in Hertfordshire may\r
+abound in the gaieties which that season generally brings, and that your\r
+beaux will be so numerous as to prevent your feeling the loss of the\r
+three of whom we shall deprive you."\r
+\r
+"It is evident by this," added Jane, "that he comes back no more this\r
+winter."\r
+\r
+"It is only evident that Miss Bingley does not mean that he _should_."\r
+\r
+"Why will you think so? It must be his own doing. He is his own\r
+master. But you do not know _all_. I _will_ read you the passage which\r
+particularly hurts me. I will have no reserves from _you_."\r
+\r
+"Mr. Darcy is impatient to see his sister; and, to confess the truth,\r
+_we_ are scarcely less eager to meet her again. I really do not think\r
+Georgiana Darcy has her equal for beauty, elegance, and accomplishments;\r
+and the affection she inspires in Louisa and myself is heightened into\r
+something still more interesting, from the hope we dare entertain of\r
+her being hereafter our sister. I do not know whether I ever before\r
+mentioned to you my feelings on this subject; but I will not leave the\r
+country without confiding them, and I trust you will not esteem them\r
+unreasonable. My brother admires her greatly already; he will have\r
+frequent opportunity now of seeing her on the most intimate footing;\r
+her relations all wish the connection as much as his own; and a sister's\r
+partiality is not misleading me, I think, when I call Charles most\r
+capable of engaging any woman's heart. With all these circumstances to\r
+favour an attachment, and nothing to prevent it, am I wrong, my dearest\r
+Jane, in indulging the hope of an event which will secure the happiness\r
+of so many?"\r
+\r
+"What do you think of _this_ sentence, my dear Lizzy?" said Jane as she\r
+finished it. "Is it not clear enough? Does it not expressly declare that\r
+Caroline neither expects nor wishes me to be her sister; that she is\r
+perfectly convinced of her brother's indifference; and that if she\r
+suspects the nature of my feelings for him, she means (most kindly!) to\r
+put me on my guard? Can there be any other opinion on the subject?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, there can; for mine is totally different. Will you hear it?"\r
+\r
+"Most willingly."\r
+\r
+"You shall have it in a few words. Miss Bingley sees that her brother is\r
+in love with you, and wants him to marry Miss Darcy. She follows him\r
+to town in hope of keeping him there, and tries to persuade you that he\r
+does not care about you."\r
+\r
+Jane shook her head.\r
+\r
+"Indeed, Jane, you ought to believe me. No one who has ever seen you\r
+together can doubt his affection. Miss Bingley, I am sure, cannot. She\r
+is not such a simpleton. Could she have seen half as much love in Mr.\r
+Darcy for herself, she would have ordered her wedding clothes. But the\r
+case is this: We are not rich enough or grand enough for them; and she\r
+is the more anxious to get Miss Darcy for her brother, from the notion\r
+that when there has been _one_ intermarriage, she may have less trouble\r
+in achieving a second; in which there is certainly some ingenuity, and\r
+I dare say it would succeed, if Miss de Bourgh were out of the way. But,\r
+my dearest Jane, you cannot seriously imagine that because Miss Bingley\r
+tells you her brother greatly admires Miss Darcy, he is in the smallest\r
+degree less sensible of _your_ merit than when he took leave of you on\r
+Tuesday, or that it will be in her power to persuade him that, instead\r
+of being in love with you, he is very much in love with her friend."\r
+\r
+"If we thought alike of Miss Bingley," replied Jane, "your\r
+representation of all this might make me quite easy. But I know the\r
+foundation is unjust. Caroline is incapable of wilfully deceiving\r
+anyone; and all that I can hope in this case is that she is deceiving\r
+herself."\r
+\r
+"That is right. You could not have started a more happy idea, since you\r
+will not take comfort in mine. Believe her to be deceived, by all means.\r
+You have now done your duty by her, and must fret no longer."\r
+\r
+"But, my dear sister, can I be happy, even supposing the best, in\r
+accepting a man whose sisters and friends are all wishing him to marry\r
+elsewhere?"\r
+\r
+"You must decide for yourself," said Elizabeth; "and if, upon mature\r
+deliberation, you find that the misery of disobliging his two sisters is\r
+more than equivalent to the happiness of being his wife, I advise you by\r
+all means to refuse him."\r
+\r
+"How can you talk so?" said Jane, faintly smiling. "You must know that\r
+though I should be exceedingly grieved at their disapprobation, I could\r
+not hesitate."\r
+\r
+"I did not think you would; and that being the case, I cannot consider\r
+your situation with much compassion."\r
+\r
+"But if he returns no more this winter, my choice will never be\r
+required. A thousand things may arise in six months!"\r
+\r
+The idea of his returning no more Elizabeth treated with the utmost\r
+contempt. It appeared to her merely the suggestion of Caroline's\r
+interested wishes, and she could not for a moment suppose that those\r
+wishes, however openly or artfully spoken, could influence a young man\r
+so totally independent of everyone.\r
+\r
+She represented to her sister as forcibly as possible what she felt\r
+on the subject, and had soon the pleasure of seeing its happy effect.\r
+Jane's temper was not desponding, and she was gradually led to hope,\r
+though the diffidence of affection sometimes overcame the hope, that\r
+Bingley would return to Netherfield and answer every wish of her heart.\r
+\r
+They agreed that Mrs. Bennet should only hear of the departure of the\r
+family, without being alarmed on the score of the gentleman's conduct;\r
+but even this partial communication gave her a great deal of concern,\r
+and she bewailed it as exceedingly unlucky that the ladies should happen\r
+to go away just as they were all getting so intimate together. After\r
+lamenting it, however, at some length, she had the consolation that Mr.\r
+Bingley would be soon down again and soon dining at Longbourn, and the\r
+conclusion of all was the comfortable declaration, that though he had\r
+been invited only to a family dinner, she would take care to have two\r
+full courses.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 22\r
+\r
+\r
+The Bennets were engaged to dine with the Lucases and again during the\r
+chief of the day was Miss Lucas so kind as to listen to Mr. Collins.\r
+Elizabeth took an opportunity of thanking her. "It keeps him in good\r
+humour," said she, "and I am more obliged to you than I can express."\r
+Charlotte assured her friend of her satisfaction in being useful, and\r
+that it amply repaid her for the little sacrifice of her time. This was\r
+very amiable, but Charlotte's kindness extended farther than Elizabeth\r
+had any conception of; its object was nothing else than to secure her\r
+from any return of Mr. Collins's addresses, by engaging them towards\r
+herself. Such was Miss Lucas's scheme; and appearances were so\r
+favourable, that when they parted at night, she would have felt almost\r
+secure of success if he had not been to leave Hertfordshire so very\r
+soon. But here she did injustice to the fire and independence of his\r
+character, for it led him to escape out of Longbourn House the next\r
+morning with admirable slyness, and hasten to Lucas Lodge to throw\r
+himself at her feet. He was anxious to avoid the notice of his cousins,\r
+from a conviction that if they saw him depart, they could not fail to\r
+conjecture his design, and he was not willing to have the attempt known\r
+till its success might be known likewise; for though feeling almost\r
+secure, and with reason, for Charlotte had been tolerably encouraging,\r
+he was comparatively diffident since the adventure of Wednesday.\r
+His reception, however, was of the most flattering kind. Miss Lucas\r
+perceived him from an upper window as he walked towards the house, and\r
+instantly set out to meet him accidentally in the lane. But little had\r
+she dared to hope that so much love and eloquence awaited her there.\r
+\r
+In as short a time as Mr. Collins's long speeches would allow,\r
+everything was settled between them to the satisfaction of both; and as\r
+they entered the house he earnestly entreated her to name the day that\r
+was to make him the happiest of men; and though such a solicitation must\r
+be waived for the present, the lady felt no inclination to trifle with\r
+his happiness. The stupidity with which he was favoured by nature must\r
+guard his courtship from any charm that could make a woman wish for its\r
+continuance; and Miss Lucas, who accepted him solely from the pure\r
+and disinterested desire of an establishment, cared not how soon that\r
+establishment were gained.\r
+\r
+Sir William and Lady Lucas were speedily applied to for their consent;\r
+and it was bestowed with a most joyful alacrity. Mr. Collins's present\r
+circumstances made it a most eligible match for their daughter, to whom\r
+they could give little fortune; and his prospects of future wealth were\r
+exceedingly fair. Lady Lucas began directly to calculate, with more\r
+interest than the matter had ever excited before, how many years longer\r
+Mr. Bennet was likely to live; and Sir William gave it as his decided\r
+opinion, that whenever Mr. Collins should be in possession of the\r
+Longbourn estate, it would be highly expedient that both he and his wife\r
+should make their appearance at St. James's. The whole family, in short,\r
+were properly overjoyed on the occasion. The younger girls formed hopes\r
+of _coming out_ a year or two sooner than they might otherwise have\r
+done; and the boys were relieved from their apprehension of Charlotte's\r
+dying an old maid. Charlotte herself was tolerably composed. She had\r
+gained her point, and had time to consider of it. Her reflections were\r
+in general satisfactory. Mr. Collins, to be sure, was neither sensible\r
+nor agreeable; his society was irksome, and his attachment to her must\r
+be imaginary. But still he would be her husband. Without thinking highly\r
+either of men or matrimony, marriage had always been her object; it was\r
+the only provision for well-educated young women of small fortune,\r
+and however uncertain of giving happiness, must be their pleasantest\r
+preservative from want. This preservative she had now obtained; and at\r
+the age of twenty-seven, without having ever been handsome, she felt all\r
+the good luck of it. The least agreeable circumstance in the business\r
+was the surprise it must occasion to Elizabeth Bennet, whose friendship\r
+she valued beyond that of any other person. Elizabeth would wonder,\r
+and probably would blame her; and though her resolution was not to be\r
+shaken, her feelings must be hurt by such a disapprobation. She resolved\r
+to give her the information herself, and therefore charged Mr. Collins,\r
+when he returned to Longbourn to dinner, to drop no hint of what had\r
+passed before any of the family. A promise of secrecy was of course very\r
+dutifully given, but it could not be kept without difficulty; for the\r
+curiosity excited by his long absence burst forth in such very direct\r
+questions on his return as required some ingenuity to evade, and he was\r
+at the same time exercising great self-denial, for he was longing to\r
+publish his prosperous love.\r
+\r
+As he was to begin his journey too early on the morrow to see any of the\r
+family, the ceremony of leave-taking was performed when the ladies moved\r
+for the night; and Mrs. Bennet, with great politeness and cordiality,\r
+said how happy they should be to see him at Longbourn again, whenever\r
+his engagements might allow him to visit them.\r
+\r
+"My dear madam," he replied, "this invitation is particularly\r
+gratifying, because it is what I have been hoping to receive; and\r
+you may be very certain that I shall avail myself of it as soon as\r
+possible."\r
+\r
+They were all astonished; and Mr. Bennet, who could by no means wish for\r
+so speedy a return, immediately said:\r
+\r
+"But is there not danger of Lady Catherine's disapprobation here, my\r
+good sir? You had better neglect your relations than run the risk of\r
+offending your patroness."\r
+\r
+"My dear sir," replied Mr. Collins, "I am particularly obliged to you\r
+for this friendly caution, and you may depend upon my not taking so\r
+material a step without her ladyship's concurrence."\r
+\r
+"You cannot be too much upon your guard. Risk anything rather than her\r
+displeasure; and if you find it likely to be raised by your coming to us\r
+again, which I should think exceedingly probable, stay quietly at home,\r
+and be satisfied that _we_ shall take no offence."\r
+\r
+"Believe me, my dear sir, my gratitude is warmly excited by such\r
+affectionate attention; and depend upon it, you will speedily receive\r
+from me a letter of thanks for this, and for every other mark of your\r
+regard during my stay in Hertfordshire. As for my fair cousins, though\r
+my absence may not be long enough to render it necessary, I shall now\r
+take the liberty of wishing them health and happiness, not excepting my\r
+cousin Elizabeth."\r
+\r
+With proper civilities the ladies then withdrew; all of them equally\r
+surprised that he meditated a quick return. Mrs. Bennet wished to\r
+understand by it that he thought of paying his addresses to one of her\r
+younger girls, and Mary might have been prevailed on to accept him.\r
+She rated his abilities much higher than any of the others; there was\r
+a solidity in his reflections which often struck her, and though by no\r
+means so clever as herself, she thought that if encouraged to read\r
+and improve himself by such an example as hers, he might become a very\r
+agreeable companion. But on the following morning, every hope of this\r
+kind was done away. Miss Lucas called soon after breakfast, and in a\r
+private conference with Elizabeth related the event of the day before.\r
+\r
+The possibility of Mr. Collins's fancying himself in love with her\r
+friend had once occurred to Elizabeth within the last day or two; but\r
+that Charlotte could encourage him seemed almost as far from\r
+possibility as she could encourage him herself, and her astonishment was\r
+consequently so great as to overcome at first the bounds of decorum, and\r
+she could not help crying out:\r
+\r
+"Engaged to Mr. Collins! My dear Charlotte--impossible!"\r
+\r
+The steady countenance which Miss Lucas had commanded in telling her\r
+story, gave way to a momentary confusion here on receiving so direct a\r
+reproach; though, as it was no more than she expected, she soon regained\r
+her composure, and calmly replied:\r
+\r
+"Why should you be surprised, my dear Eliza? Do you think it incredible\r
+that Mr. Collins should be able to procure any woman's good opinion,\r
+because he was not so happy as to succeed with you?"\r
+\r
+But Elizabeth had now recollected herself, and making a strong effort\r
+for it, was able to assure with tolerable firmness that the prospect of\r
+their relationship was highly grateful to her, and that she wished her\r
+all imaginable happiness.\r
+\r
+"I see what you are feeling," replied Charlotte. "You must be surprised,\r
+very much surprised--so lately as Mr. Collins was wishing to marry\r
+you. But when you have had time to think it over, I hope you will be\r
+satisfied with what I have done. I am not romantic, you know; I never\r
+was. I ask only a comfortable home; and considering Mr. Collins's\r
+character, connection, and situation in life, I am convinced that my\r
+chance of happiness with him is as fair as most people can boast on\r
+entering the marriage state."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth quietly answered "Undoubtedly;" and after an awkward pause,\r
+they returned to the rest of the family. Charlotte did not stay much\r
+longer, and Elizabeth was then left to reflect on what she had heard.\r
+It was a long time before she became at all reconciled to the idea of so\r
+unsuitable a match. The strangeness of Mr. Collins's making two offers\r
+of marriage within three days was nothing in comparison of his being now\r
+accepted. She had always felt that Charlotte's opinion of matrimony was\r
+not exactly like her own, but she had not supposed it to be possible\r
+that, when called into action, she would have sacrificed every better\r
+feeling to worldly advantage. Charlotte the wife of Mr. Collins was a\r
+most humiliating picture! And to the pang of a friend disgracing herself\r
+and sunk in her esteem, was added the distressing conviction that it\r
+was impossible for that friend to be tolerably happy in the lot she had\r
+chosen.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 23\r
+\r
+\r
+Elizabeth was sitting with her mother and sisters, reflecting on what\r
+she had heard, and doubting whether she was authorised to mention\r
+it, when Sir William Lucas himself appeared, sent by his daughter, to\r
+announce her engagement to the family. With many compliments to them,\r
+and much self-gratulation on the prospect of a connection between the\r
+houses, he unfolded the matter--to an audience not merely wondering, but\r
+incredulous; for Mrs. Bennet, with more perseverance than politeness,\r
+protested he must be entirely mistaken; and Lydia, always unguarded and\r
+often uncivil, boisterously exclaimed:\r
+\r
+"Good Lord! Sir William, how can you tell such a story? Do not you know\r
+that Mr. Collins wants to marry Lizzy?"\r
+\r
+Nothing less than the complaisance of a courtier could have borne\r
+without anger such treatment; but Sir William's good breeding carried\r
+him through it all; and though he begged leave to be positive as to the\r
+truth of his information, he listened to all their impertinence with the\r
+most forbearing courtesy.\r
+\r
+Elizabeth, feeling it incumbent on her to relieve him from so unpleasant\r
+a situation, now put herself forward to confirm his account, by\r
+mentioning her prior knowledge of it from Charlotte herself; and\r
+endeavoured to put a stop to the exclamations of her mother and sisters\r
+by the earnestness of her congratulations to Sir William, in which she\r
+was readily joined by Jane, and by making a variety of remarks on the\r
+happiness that might be expected from the match, the excellent character\r
+of Mr. Collins, and the convenient distance of Hunsford from London.\r
+\r
+Mrs. Bennet was in fact too much overpowered to say a great deal while\r
+Sir William remained; but no sooner had he left them than her feelings\r
+found a rapid vent. In the first place, she persisted in disbelieving\r
+the whole of the matter; secondly, she was very sure that Mr. Collins\r
+had been taken in; thirdly, she trusted that they would never be\r
+happy together; and fourthly, that the match might be broken off. Two\r
+inferences, however, were plainly deduced from the whole: one, that\r
+Elizabeth was the real cause of the mischief; and the other that she\r
+herself had been barbarously misused by them all; and on these two\r
+points she principally dwelt during the rest of the day. Nothing could\r
+console and nothing could appease her. Nor did that day wear out her\r
+resentment. A week elapsed before she could see Elizabeth without\r
+scolding her, a month passed away before she could speak to Sir William\r
+or Lady Lucas without being rude, and many months were gone before she\r
+could at all forgive their daughter.\r
+\r
+Mr. Bennet's emotions were much more tranquil on the occasion, and such\r
+as he did experience he pronounced to be of a most agreeable sort; for\r
+it gratified him, he said, to discover that Charlotte Lucas, whom he had\r
+been used to think tolerably sensible, was as foolish as his wife, and\r
+more foolish than his daughter!\r
+\r
+Jane confessed herself a little surprised at the match; but she said\r
+less of her astonishment than of her earnest desire for their happiness;\r
+nor could Elizabeth persuade her to consider it as improbable. Kitty\r
+and Lydia were far from envying Miss Lucas, for Mr. Collins was only a\r
+clergyman; and it affected them in no other way than as a piece of news\r
+to spread at Meryton.\r
+\r
+Lady Lucas could not be insensible of triumph on being able to retort\r
+on Mrs. Bennet the comfort of having a daughter well married; and she\r
+called at Longbourn rather oftener than usual to say how happy she was,\r
+though Mrs. Bennet's sour looks and ill-natured remarks might have been\r
+enough to drive happiness away.\r
+\r
+Between Elizabeth and Charlotte there was a restraint which kept them\r
+mutually silent on the subject; and Elizabeth felt persuaded that\r
+no real confidence could ever subsist between them again. Her\r
+disappointment in Charlotte made her turn with fonder regard to her\r
+sister, of whose rectitude and delicacy she was sure her opinion could\r
+never be shaken, and for whose happiness she grew daily more anxious,\r
+as Bingley had now been gone a week and nothing more was heard of his\r
+return.\r
+\r
+Jane had sent Caroline an early answer to her letter, and was counting\r
+the days till she might reasonably hope to hear again. The promised\r
+letter of thanks from Mr. Collins arrived on Tuesday, addressed to\r
+their father, and written with all the solemnity of gratitude which a\r
+twelvemonth's abode in the family might have prompted. After discharging\r
+his conscience on that head, he proceeded to inform them, with many\r
+rapturous expressions, of his happiness in having obtained the affection\r
+of their amiable neighbour, Miss Lucas, and then explained that it was\r
+merely with the view of enjoying her society that he had been so ready\r
+to close with their kind wish of seeing him again at Longbourn, whither\r
+he hoped to be able to return on Monday fortnight; for Lady Catherine,\r
+he added, so heartily approved his marriage, that she wished it to take\r
+place as soon as possible, which he trusted would be an unanswerable\r
+argument with his amiable Charlotte to name an early day for making him\r
+the happiest of men.\r
+\r
+Mr. Collins's return into Hertfordshire was no longer a matter of\r
+pleasure to Mrs. Bennet. On the contrary, she was as much disposed to\r
+complain of it as her husband. It was very strange that he should come\r
+to Longbourn instead of to Lucas Lodge; it was also very inconvenient\r
+and exceedingly troublesome. She hated having visitors in the house\r
+while her health was so indifferent, and lovers were of all people the\r
+most disagreeable. Such were the gentle murmurs of Mrs. Bennet, and\r
+they gave way only to the greater distress of Mr. Bingley's continued\r
+absence.\r
+\r
+Neither Jane nor Elizabeth were comfortable on this subject. Day after\r
+day passed away without bringing any other tidings of him than the\r
+report which shortly prevailed in Meryton of his coming no more to\r
+Netherfield the whole winter; a report which highly incensed Mrs.\r
+Bennet, and which she never failed to contradict as a most scandalous\r
+falsehood.\r
+\r
+Even Elizabeth began to fear--not that Bingley was indifferent--but that\r
+his sisters would be successful in keeping him away. Unwilling as\r
+she was to admit an idea so destructive of Jane's happiness, and so\r
+dishonorable to the stability of her lover, she could not prevent its\r
+frequently occurring. The united efforts of his two unfeeling sisters\r
+and of his overpowering friend, assisted by the attractions of Miss\r
+Darcy and the amusements of London might be too much, she feared, for\r
+the strength of his attachment.\r
+\r
+As for Jane, _her_ anxiety under this suspense was, of course, more\r
+painful than Elizabeth's, but whatever she felt she was desirous of\r
+concealing, and between herself and Elizabeth, therefore, the subject\r
+was never alluded to. But as no such delicacy restrained her mother,\r
+an hour seldom passed in which she did not talk of Bingley, express her\r
+impatience for his arrival, or even require Jane to confess that if he\r
+did not come back she would think herself very ill used. It needed\r
+all Jane's steady mildness to bear these attacks with tolerable\r
+tranquillity.\r
+\r
+Mr. Collins returned most punctually on Monday fortnight, but his\r
+reception at Longbourn was not quite so gracious as it had been on his\r
+first introduction. He was too happy, however, to need much attention;\r
+and luckily for the others, the business of love-making relieved them\r
+from a great deal of his company. The chief of every day was spent by\r
+him at Lucas Lodge, and he sometimes returned to Longbourn only in time\r
+to make an apology for his absence before the family went to bed.\r
+\r
+Mrs. Bennet was really in a most pitiable state. The very mention of\r
+anything concerning the match threw her into an agony of ill-humour,\r
+and wherever she went she was sure of hearing it talked of. The sight\r
+of Miss Lucas was odious to her. As her successor in that house, she\r
+regarded her with jealous abhorrence. Whenever Charlotte came to see\r
+them, she concluded her to be anticipating the hour of possession; and\r
+whenever she spoke in a low voice to Mr. Collins, was convinced that\r
+they were talking of the Longbourn estate, and resolving to turn herself\r
+and her daughters out of the house, as soon as Mr. Bennet were dead. She\r
+complained bitterly of all this to her husband.\r
+\r
+"Indeed, Mr. Bennet," said she, "it is very hard to think that Charlotte\r
+Lucas should ever be mistress of this house, that I should be forced to\r
+make way for _her_, and live to see her take her place in it!"\r
+\r
+"My dear, do not give way to such gloomy thoughts. Let us hope for\r
+better things. Let us flatter ourselves that I may be the survivor."\r
+\r
+This was not very consoling to Mrs. Bennet, and therefore, instead of\r
+making any answer, she went on as before.\r
+\r
+"I cannot bear to think that they should have all this estate. If it was\r
+not for the entail, I should not mind it."\r
+\r
+"What should not you mind?"\r
+\r
+"I should not mind anything at all."\r
+\r
+"Let us be thankful that you are preserved from a state of such\r
+insensibility."\r
+\r
+"I never can be thankful, Mr. Bennet, for anything about the entail. How\r
+anyone could have the conscience to entail away an estate from one's own\r
+daughters, I cannot understand; and all for the sake of Mr. Collins too!\r
+Why should _he_ have it more than anybody else?"\r
+\r
+"I leave it to yourself to determine," said Mr. Bennet.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 24\r
+\r
+\r
+Miss Bingley's letter arrived, and put an end to doubt. The very first\r
+sentence conveyed the assurance of their being all settled in London for\r
+the winter, and concluded with her brother's regret at not having had\r
+time to pay his respects to his friends in Hertfordshire before he left\r
+the country.\r
+\r
+Hope was over, entirely over; and when Jane could attend to the rest\r
+of the letter, she found little, except the professed affection of the\r
+writer, that could give her any comfort. Miss Darcy's praise occupied\r
+the chief of it. Her many attractions were again dwelt on, and Caroline\r
+boasted joyfully of their increasing intimacy, and ventured to predict\r
+the accomplishment of the wishes which had been unfolded in her former\r
+letter. She wrote also with great pleasure of her brother's being an\r
+inmate of Mr. Darcy's house, and mentioned with raptures some plans of\r
+the latter with regard to new furniture.\r
+\r
+Elizabeth, to whom Jane very soon communicated the chief of all this,\r
+heard it in silent indignation. Her heart was divided between concern\r
+for her sister, and resentment against all others. To Caroline's\r
+assertion of her brother's being partial to Miss Darcy she paid no\r
+credit. That he was really fond of Jane, she doubted no more than she\r
+had ever done; and much as she had always been disposed to like him, she\r
+could not think without anger, hardly without contempt, on that easiness\r
+of temper, that want of proper resolution, which now made him the slave\r
+of his designing friends, and led him to sacrifice of his own happiness\r
+to the caprice of their inclination. Had his own happiness, however,\r
+been the only sacrifice, he might have been allowed to sport with it in\r
+whatever manner he thought best, but her sister's was involved in it, as\r
+she thought he must be sensible himself. It was a subject, in short,\r
+on which reflection would be long indulged, and must be unavailing. She\r
+could think of nothing else; and yet whether Bingley's regard had really\r
+died away, or were suppressed by his friends' interference; whether\r
+he had been aware of Jane's attachment, or whether it had escaped his\r
+observation; whatever were the case, though her opinion of him must be\r
+materially affected by the difference, her sister's situation remained\r
+the same, her peace equally wounded.\r
+\r
+A day or two passed before Jane had courage to speak of her feelings to\r
+Elizabeth; but at last, on Mrs. Bennet's leaving them together, after a\r
+longer irritation than usual about Netherfield and its master, she could\r
+not help saying:\r
+\r
+"Oh, that my dear mother had more command over herself! She can have no\r
+idea of the pain she gives me by her continual reflections on him. But\r
+I will not repine. It cannot last long. He will be forgot, and we shall\r
+all be as we were before."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth looked at her sister with incredulous solicitude, but said\r
+nothing.\r
+\r
+"You doubt me," cried Jane, slightly colouring; "indeed, you have\r
+no reason. He may live in my memory as the most amiable man of my\r
+acquaintance, but that is all. I have nothing either to hope or fear,\r
+and nothing to reproach him with. Thank God! I have not _that_ pain. A\r
+little time, therefore--I shall certainly try to get the better."\r
+\r
+With a stronger voice she soon added, "I have this comfort immediately,\r
+that it has not been more than an error of fancy on my side, and that it\r
+has done no harm to anyone but myself."\r
+\r
+"My dear Jane!" exclaimed Elizabeth, "you are too good. Your sweetness\r
+and disinterestedness are really angelic; I do not know what to say\r
+to you. I feel as if I had never done you justice, or loved you as you\r
+deserve."\r
+\r
+Miss Bennet eagerly disclaimed all extraordinary merit, and threw back\r
+the praise on her sister's warm affection.\r
+\r
+"Nay," said Elizabeth, "this is not fair. _You_ wish to think all the\r
+world respectable, and are hurt if I speak ill of anybody. I only want\r
+to think _you_ perfect, and you set yourself against it. Do not\r
+be afraid of my running into any excess, of my encroaching on your\r
+privilege of universal good-will. You need not. There are few people\r
+whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see\r
+of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms\r
+my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the\r
+little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or\r
+sense. I have met with two instances lately, one I will not mention; the\r
+other is Charlotte's marriage. It is unaccountable! In every view it is\r
+unaccountable!"\r
+\r
+"My dear Lizzy, do not give way to such feelings as these. They will\r
+ruin your happiness. You do not make allowance enough for difference\r
+of situation and temper. Consider Mr. Collins's respectability, and\r
+Charlotte's steady, prudent character. Remember that she is one of a\r
+large family; that as to fortune, it is a most eligible match; and be\r
+ready to believe, for everybody's sake, that she may feel something like\r
+regard and esteem for our cousin."\r
+\r
+"To oblige you, I would try to believe almost anything, but no one else\r
+could be benefited by such a belief as this; for were I persuaded that\r
+Charlotte had any regard for him, I should only think worse of her\r
+understanding than I now do of her heart. My dear Jane, Mr. Collins is a\r
+conceited, pompous, narrow-minded, silly man; you know he is, as well as\r
+I do; and you must feel, as well as I do, that the woman who married him\r
+cannot have a proper way of thinking. You shall not defend her, though\r
+it is Charlotte Lucas. You shall not, for the sake of one individual,\r
+change the meaning of principle and integrity, nor endeavour to persuade\r
+yourself or me, that selfishness is prudence, and insensibility of\r
+danger security for happiness."\r
+\r
+"I must think your language too strong in speaking of both," replied\r
+Jane; "and I hope you will be convinced of it by seeing them happy\r
+together. But enough of this. You alluded to something else. You\r
+mentioned _two_ instances. I cannot misunderstand you, but I entreat\r
+you, dear Lizzy, not to pain me by thinking _that person_ to blame, and\r
+saying your opinion of him is sunk. We must not be so ready to fancy\r
+ourselves intentionally injured. We must not expect a lively young man\r
+to be always so guarded and circumspect. It is very often nothing but\r
+our own vanity that deceives us. Women fancy admiration means more than\r
+it does."\r
+\r
+"And men take care that they should."\r
+\r
+"If it is designedly done, they cannot be justified; but I have no idea\r
+of there being so much design in the world as some persons imagine."\r
+\r
+"I am far from attributing any part of Mr. Bingley's conduct to design,"\r
+said Elizabeth; "but without scheming to do wrong, or to make others\r
+unhappy, there may be error, and there may be misery. Thoughtlessness,\r
+want of attention to other people's feelings, and want of resolution,\r
+will do the business."\r
+\r
+"And do you impute it to either of those?"\r
+\r
+"Yes; to the last. But if I go on, I shall displease you by saying what\r
+I think of persons you esteem. Stop me whilst you can."\r
+\r
+"You persist, then, in supposing his sisters influence him?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, in conjunction with his friend."\r
+\r
+"I cannot believe it. Why should they try to influence him? They can\r
+only wish his happiness; and if he is attached to me, no other woman can\r
+secure it."\r
+\r
+"Your first position is false. They may wish many things besides his\r
+happiness; they may wish his increase of wealth and consequence; they\r
+may wish him to marry a girl who has all the importance of money, great\r
+connections, and pride."\r
+\r
+"Beyond a doubt, they _do_ wish him to choose Miss Darcy," replied Jane;\r
+"but this may be from better feelings than you are supposing. They have\r
+known her much longer than they have known me; no wonder if they love\r
+her better. But, whatever may be their own wishes, it is very unlikely\r
+they should have opposed their brother's. What sister would think\r
+herself at liberty to do it, unless there were something very\r
+objectionable? If they believed him attached to me, they would not try\r
+to part us; if he were so, they could not succeed. By supposing such an\r
+affection, you make everybody acting unnaturally and wrong, and me most\r
+unhappy. Do not distress me by the idea. I am not ashamed of having been\r
+mistaken--or, at least, it is light, it is nothing in comparison of what\r
+I should feel in thinking ill of him or his sisters. Let me take it in\r
+the best light, in the light in which it may be understood."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth could not oppose such a wish; and from this time Mr. Bingley's\r
+name was scarcely ever mentioned between them.\r
+\r
+Mrs. Bennet still continued to wonder and repine at his returning no\r
+more, and though a day seldom passed in which Elizabeth did not account\r
+for it clearly, there was little chance of her ever considering it with\r
+less perplexity. Her daughter endeavoured to convince her of what she\r
+did not believe herself, that his attentions to Jane had been merely the\r
+effect of a common and transient liking, which ceased when he saw her\r
+no more; but though the probability of the statement was admitted at\r
+the time, she had the same story to repeat every day. Mrs. Bennet's best\r
+comfort was that Mr. Bingley must be down again in the summer.\r
+\r
+Mr. Bennet treated the matter differently. "So, Lizzy," said he one day,\r
+"your sister is crossed in love, I find. I congratulate her. Next to\r
+being married, a girl likes to be crossed a little in love now and then.\r
+It is something to think of, and it gives her a sort of distinction\r
+among her companions. When is your turn to come? You will hardly bear to\r
+be long outdone by Jane. Now is your time. Here are officers enough in\r
+Meryton to disappoint all the young ladies in the country. Let Wickham\r
+be _your_ man. He is a pleasant fellow, and would jilt you creditably."\r
+\r
+"Thank you, sir, but a less agreeable man would satisfy me. We must not\r
+all expect Jane's good fortune."\r
+\r
+"True," said Mr. Bennet, "but it is a comfort to think that whatever of\r
+that kind may befall you, you have an affectionate mother who will make\r
+the most of it."\r
+\r
+Mr. Wickham's society was of material service in dispelling the gloom\r
+which the late perverse occurrences had thrown on many of the Longbourn\r
+family. They saw him often, and to his other recommendations was now\r
+added that of general unreserve. The whole of what Elizabeth had already\r
+heard, his claims on Mr. Darcy, and all that he had suffered from him,\r
+was now openly acknowledged and publicly canvassed; and everybody was\r
+pleased to know how much they had always disliked Mr. Darcy before they\r
+had known anything of the matter.\r
+\r
+Miss Bennet was the only creature who could suppose there might be\r
+any extenuating circumstances in the case, unknown to the society\r
+of Hertfordshire; her mild and steady candour always pleaded for\r
+allowances, and urged the possibility of mistakes--but by everybody else\r
+Mr. Darcy was condemned as the worst of men.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 25\r
+\r
+\r
+After a week spent in professions of love and schemes of felicity,\r
+Mr. Collins was called from his amiable Charlotte by the arrival of\r
+Saturday. The pain of separation, however, might be alleviated on his\r
+side, by preparations for the reception of his bride; as he had reason\r
+to hope, that shortly after his return into Hertfordshire, the day would\r
+be fixed that was to make him the happiest of men. He took leave of his\r
+relations at Longbourn with as much solemnity as before; wished his fair\r
+cousins health and happiness again, and promised their father another\r
+letter of thanks.\r
+\r
+On the following Monday, Mrs. Bennet had the pleasure of receiving\r
+her brother and his wife, who came as usual to spend the Christmas\r
+at Longbourn. Mr. Gardiner was a sensible, gentlemanlike man, greatly\r
+superior to his sister, as well by nature as education. The Netherfield\r
+ladies would have had difficulty in believing that a man who lived\r
+by trade, and within view of his own warehouses, could have been so\r
+well-bred and agreeable. Mrs. Gardiner, who was several years younger\r
+than Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Phillips, was an amiable, intelligent, elegant\r
+woman, and a great favourite with all her Longbourn nieces. Between the\r
+two eldest and herself especially, there subsisted a particular regard.\r
+They had frequently been staying with her in town.\r
+\r
+The first part of Mrs. Gardiner's business on her arrival was to\r
+distribute her presents and describe the newest fashions. When this was\r
+done she had a less active part to play. It became her turn to listen.\r
+Mrs. Bennet had many grievances to relate, and much to complain of. They\r
+had all been very ill-used since she last saw her sister. Two of her\r
+girls had been upon the point of marriage, and after all there was\r
+nothing in it.\r
+\r
+"I do not blame Jane," she continued, "for Jane would have got Mr.\r
+Bingley if she could. But Lizzy! Oh, sister! It is very hard to think\r
+that she might have been Mr. Collins's wife by this time, had it not\r
+been for her own perverseness. He made her an offer in this very room,\r
+and she refused him. The consequence of it is, that Lady Lucas will have\r
+a daughter married before I have, and that the Longbourn estate is just\r
+as much entailed as ever. The Lucases are very artful people indeed,\r
+sister. They are all for what they can get. I am sorry to say it of\r
+them, but so it is. It makes me very nervous and poorly, to be thwarted\r
+so in my own family, and to have neighbours who think of themselves\r
+before anybody else. However, your coming just at this time is the\r
+greatest of comforts, and I am very glad to hear what you tell us, of\r
+long sleeves."\r
+\r
+Mrs. Gardiner, to whom the chief of this news had been given before,\r
+in the course of Jane and Elizabeth's correspondence with her, made her\r
+sister a slight answer, and, in compassion to her nieces, turned the\r
+conversation.\r
+\r
+When alone with Elizabeth afterwards, she spoke more on the subject. "It\r
+seems likely to have been a desirable match for Jane," said she. "I am\r
+sorry it went off. But these things happen so often! A young man, such\r
+as you describe Mr. Bingley, so easily falls in love with a pretty girl\r
+for a few weeks, and when accident separates them, so easily forgets\r
+her, that these sort of inconsistencies are very frequent."\r
+\r
+"An excellent consolation in its way," said Elizabeth, "but it will not\r
+do for _us_. We do not suffer by _accident_. It does not often\r
+happen that the interference of friends will persuade a young man of\r
+independent fortune to think no more of a girl whom he was violently in\r
+love with only a few days before."\r
+\r
+"But that expression of 'violently in love' is so hackneyed, so\r
+doubtful, so indefinite, that it gives me very little idea. It is as\r
+often applied to feelings which arise from a half-hour's acquaintance,\r
+as to a real, strong attachment. Pray, how _violent was_ Mr. Bingley's\r
+love?"\r
+\r
+"I never saw a more promising inclination; he was growing quite\r
+inattentive to other people, and wholly engrossed by her. Every time\r
+they met, it was more decided and remarkable. At his own ball he\r
+offended two or three young ladies, by not asking them to dance; and I\r
+spoke to him twice myself, without receiving an answer. Could there be\r
+finer symptoms? Is not general incivility the very essence of love?"\r
+\r
+"Oh, yes!--of that kind of love which I suppose him to have felt. Poor\r
+Jane! I am sorry for her, because, with her disposition, she may not get\r
+over it immediately. It had better have happened to _you_, Lizzy; you\r
+would have laughed yourself out of it sooner. But do you think she\r
+would be prevailed upon to go back with us? Change of scene might be\r
+of service--and perhaps a little relief from home may be as useful as\r
+anything."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth was exceedingly pleased with this proposal, and felt persuaded\r
+of her sister's ready acquiescence.\r
+\r
+"I hope," added Mrs. Gardiner, "that no consideration with regard to\r
+this young man will influence her. We live in so different a part of\r
+town, all our connections are so different, and, as you well know, we go\r
+out so little, that it is very improbable that they should meet at all,\r
+unless he really comes to see her."\r
+\r
+"And _that_ is quite impossible; for he is now in the custody of his\r
+friend, and Mr. Darcy would no more suffer him to call on Jane in such\r
+a part of London! My dear aunt, how could you think of it? Mr. Darcy may\r
+perhaps have _heard_ of such a place as Gracechurch Street, but he\r
+would hardly think a month's ablution enough to cleanse him from its\r
+impurities, were he once to enter it; and depend upon it, Mr. Bingley\r
+never stirs without him."\r
+\r
+"So much the better. I hope they will not meet at all. But does not Jane\r
+correspond with his sister? _She_ will not be able to help calling."\r
+\r
+"She will drop the acquaintance entirely."\r
+\r
+But in spite of the certainty in which Elizabeth affected to place this\r
+point, as well as the still more interesting one of Bingley's being\r
+withheld from seeing Jane, she felt a solicitude on the subject which\r
+convinced her, on examination, that she did not consider it entirely\r
+hopeless. It was possible, and sometimes she thought it probable, that\r
+his affection might be reanimated, and the influence of his friends\r
+successfully combated by the more natural influence of Jane's\r
+attractions.\r
+\r
+Miss Bennet accepted her aunt's invitation with pleasure; and the\r
+Bingleys were no otherwise in her thoughts at the same time, than as she\r
+hoped by Caroline's not living in the same house with her brother,\r
+she might occasionally spend a morning with her, without any danger of\r
+seeing him.\r
+\r
+The Gardiners stayed a week at Longbourn; and what with the Phillipses,\r
+the Lucases, and the officers, there was not a day without its\r
+engagement. Mrs. Bennet had so carefully provided for the entertainment\r
+of her brother and sister, that they did not once sit down to a family\r
+dinner. When the engagement was for home, some of the officers always\r
+made part of it--of which officers Mr. Wickham was sure to be one; and\r
+on these occasions, Mrs. Gardiner, rendered suspicious by Elizabeth's\r
+warm commendation, narrowly observed them both. Without supposing them,\r
+from what she saw, to be very seriously in love, their preference\r
+of each other was plain enough to make her a little uneasy; and\r
+she resolved to speak to Elizabeth on the subject before she left\r
+Hertfordshire, and represent to her the imprudence of encouraging such\r
+an attachment.\r
+\r
+To Mrs. Gardiner, Wickham had one means of affording pleasure,\r
+unconnected with his general powers. About ten or a dozen years ago,\r
+before her marriage, she had spent a considerable time in that very\r
+part of Derbyshire to which he belonged. They had, therefore, many\r
+acquaintances in common; and though Wickham had been little there since\r
+the death of Darcy's father, it was yet in his power to give her fresher\r
+intelligence of her former friends than she had been in the way of\r
+procuring.\r
+\r
+Mrs. Gardiner had seen Pemberley, and known the late Mr. Darcy by\r
+character perfectly well. Here consequently was an inexhaustible subject\r
+of discourse. In comparing her recollection of Pemberley with the minute\r
+description which Wickham could give, and in bestowing her tribute of\r
+praise on the character of its late possessor, she was delighting both\r
+him and herself. On being made acquainted with the present Mr. Darcy's\r
+treatment of him, she tried to remember some of that gentleman's\r
+reputed disposition when quite a lad which might agree with it, and\r
+was confident at last that she recollected having heard Mr. Fitzwilliam\r
+Darcy formerly spoken of as a very proud, ill-natured boy.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 26\r
+\r
+\r
+Mrs. Gardiner's caution to Elizabeth was punctually and kindly given\r
+on the first favourable opportunity of speaking to her alone; after\r
+honestly telling her what she thought, she thus went on:\r
+\r
+"You are too sensible a girl, Lizzy, to fall in love merely because\r
+you are warned against it; and, therefore, I am not afraid of speaking\r
+openly. Seriously, I would have you be on your guard. Do not involve\r
+yourself or endeavour to involve him in an affection which the want\r
+of fortune would make so very imprudent. I have nothing to say against\r
+_him_; he is a most interesting young man; and if he had the fortune he\r
+ought to have, I should think you could not do better. But as it is, you\r
+must not let your fancy run away with you. You have sense, and we all\r
+expect you to use it. Your father would depend on _your_ resolution and\r
+good conduct, I am sure. You must not disappoint your father."\r
+\r
+"My dear aunt, this is being serious indeed."\r
+\r
+"Yes, and I hope to engage you to be serious likewise."\r
+\r
+"Well, then, you need not be under any alarm. I will take care of\r
+myself, and of Mr. Wickham too. He shall not be in love with me, if I\r
+can prevent it."\r
+\r
+"Elizabeth, you are not serious now."\r
+\r
+"I beg your pardon, I will try again. At present I am not in love with\r
+Mr. Wickham; no, I certainly am not. But he is, beyond all comparison,\r
+the most agreeable man I ever saw--and if he becomes really attached to\r
+me--I believe it will be better that he should not. I see the imprudence\r
+of it. Oh! _that_ abominable Mr. Darcy! My father's opinion of me does\r
+me the greatest honour, and I should be miserable to forfeit it. My\r
+father, however, is partial to Mr. Wickham. In short, my dear aunt, I\r
+should be very sorry to be the means of making any of you unhappy; but\r
+since we see every day that where there is affection, young people\r
+are seldom withheld by immediate want of fortune from entering into\r
+engagements with each other, how can I promise to be wiser than so many\r
+of my fellow-creatures if I am tempted, or how am I even to know that it\r
+would be wisdom to resist? All that I can promise you, therefore, is not\r
+to be in a hurry. I will not be in a hurry to believe myself his first\r
+object. When I am in company with him, I will not be wishing. In short,\r
+I will do my best."\r
+\r
+"Perhaps it will be as well if you discourage his coming here so very\r
+often. At least, you should not _remind_ your mother of inviting him."\r
+\r
+"As I did the other day," said Elizabeth with a conscious smile: "very\r
+true, it will be wise in me to refrain from _that_. But do not imagine\r
+that he is always here so often. It is on your account that he has been\r
+so frequently invited this week. You know my mother's ideas as to the\r
+necessity of constant company for her friends. But really, and upon my\r
+honour, I will try to do what I think to be the wisest; and now I hope\r
+you are satisfied."\r
+\r
+Her aunt assured her that she was, and Elizabeth having thanked her for\r
+the kindness of her hints, they parted; a wonderful instance of advice\r
+being given on such a point, without being resented.\r
+\r
+Mr. Collins returned into Hertfordshire soon after it had been quitted\r
+by the Gardiners and Jane; but as he took up his abode with the Lucases,\r
+his arrival was no great inconvenience to Mrs. Bennet. His marriage was\r
+now fast approaching, and she was at length so far resigned as to think\r
+it inevitable, and even repeatedly to say, in an ill-natured tone, that\r
+she "_wished_ they might be happy." Thursday was to be the wedding day,\r
+and on Wednesday Miss Lucas paid her farewell visit; and when she\r
+rose to take leave, Elizabeth, ashamed of her mother's ungracious and\r
+reluctant good wishes, and sincerely affected herself, accompanied her\r
+out of the room. As they went downstairs together, Charlotte said:\r
+\r
+"I shall depend on hearing from you very often, Eliza."\r
+\r
+"_That_ you certainly shall."\r
+\r
+"And I have another favour to ask you. Will you come and see me?"\r
+\r
+"We shall often meet, I hope, in Hertfordshire."\r
+\r
+"I am not likely to leave Kent for some time. Promise me, therefore, to\r
+come to Hunsford."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth could not refuse, though she foresaw little pleasure in the\r
+visit.\r
+\r
+"My father and Maria are coming to me in March," added Charlotte, "and I\r
+hope you will consent to be of the party. Indeed, Eliza, you will be as\r
+welcome as either of them."\r
+\r
+The wedding took place; the bride and bridegroom set off for Kent from\r
+the church door, and everybody had as much to say, or to hear, on\r
+the subject as usual. Elizabeth soon heard from her friend; and their\r
+correspondence was as regular and frequent as it had ever been; that\r
+it should be equally unreserved was impossible. Elizabeth could never\r
+address her without feeling that all the comfort of intimacy was over,\r
+and though determined not to slacken as a correspondent, it was for the\r
+sake of what had been, rather than what was. Charlotte's first letters\r
+were received with a good deal of eagerness; there could not but be\r
+curiosity to know how she would speak of her new home, how she would\r
+like Lady Catherine, and how happy she would dare pronounce herself to\r
+be; though, when the letters were read, Elizabeth felt that Charlotte\r
+expressed herself on every point exactly as she might have foreseen. She\r
+wrote cheerfully, seemed surrounded with comforts, and mentioned nothing\r
+which she could not praise. The house, furniture, neighbourhood, and\r
+roads, were all to her taste, and Lady Catherine's behaviour was most\r
+friendly and obliging. It was Mr. Collins's picture of Hunsford and\r
+Rosings rationally softened; and Elizabeth perceived that she must wait\r
+for her own visit there to know the rest.\r
+\r
+Jane had already written a few lines to her sister to announce their\r
+safe arrival in London; and when she wrote again, Elizabeth hoped it\r
+would be in her power to say something of the Bingleys.\r
+\r
+Her impatience for this second letter was as well rewarded as impatience\r
+generally is. Jane had been a week in town without either seeing or\r
+hearing from Caroline. She accounted for it, however, by supposing that\r
+her last letter to her friend from Longbourn had by some accident been\r
+lost.\r
+\r
+"My aunt," she continued, "is going to-morrow into that part of the\r
+town, and I shall take the opportunity of calling in Grosvenor Street."\r
+\r
+She wrote again when the visit was paid, and she had seen Miss Bingley.\r
+"I did not think Caroline in spirits," were her words, "but she was very\r
+glad to see me, and reproached me for giving her no notice of my coming\r
+to London. I was right, therefore, my last letter had never reached\r
+her. I inquired after their brother, of course. He was well, but so much\r
+engaged with Mr. Darcy that they scarcely ever saw him. I found that\r
+Miss Darcy was expected to dinner. I wish I could see her. My visit was\r
+not long, as Caroline and Mrs. Hurst were going out. I dare say I shall\r
+see them soon here."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth shook her head over this letter. It convinced her that\r
+accident only could discover to Mr. Bingley her sister's being in town.\r
+\r
+Four weeks passed away, and Jane saw nothing of him. She endeavoured to\r
+persuade herself that she did not regret it; but she could no longer be\r
+blind to Miss Bingley's inattention. After waiting at home every morning\r
+for a fortnight, and inventing every evening a fresh excuse for her, the\r
+visitor did at last appear; but the shortness of her stay, and yet more,\r
+the alteration of her manner would allow Jane to deceive herself no\r
+longer. The letter which she wrote on this occasion to her sister will\r
+prove what she felt.\r
+\r
+"My dearest Lizzy will, I am sure, be incapable of triumphing in her\r
+better judgement, at my expense, when I confess myself to have been\r
+entirely deceived in Miss Bingley's regard for me. But, my dear sister,\r
+though the event has proved you right, do not think me obstinate if I\r
+still assert that, considering what her behaviour was, my confidence was\r
+as natural as your suspicion. I do not at all comprehend her reason for\r
+wishing to be intimate with me; but if the same circumstances were to\r
+happen again, I am sure I should be deceived again. Caroline did not\r
+return my visit till yesterday; and not a note, not a line, did I\r
+receive in the meantime. When she did come, it was very evident that\r
+she had no pleasure in it; she made a slight, formal apology, for not\r
+calling before, said not a word of wishing to see me again, and was\r
+in every respect so altered a creature, that when she went away I was\r
+perfectly resolved to continue the acquaintance no longer. I pity,\r
+though I cannot help blaming her. She was very wrong in singling me out\r
+as she did; I can safely say that every advance to intimacy began on\r
+her side. But I pity her, because she must feel that she has been acting\r
+wrong, and because I am very sure that anxiety for her brother is the\r
+cause of it. I need not explain myself farther; and though _we_ know\r
+this anxiety to be quite needless, yet if she feels it, it will easily\r
+account for her behaviour to me; and so deservedly dear as he is to\r
+his sister, whatever anxiety she must feel on his behalf is natural and\r
+amiable. I cannot but wonder, however, at her having any such fears now,\r
+because, if he had at all cared about me, we must have met, long ago.\r
+He knows of my being in town, I am certain, from something she said\r
+herself; and yet it would seem, by her manner of talking, as if she\r
+wanted to persuade herself that he is really partial to Miss Darcy. I\r
+cannot understand it. If I were not afraid of judging harshly, I should\r
+be almost tempted to say that there is a strong appearance of duplicity\r
+in all this. But I will endeavour to banish every painful thought,\r
+and think only of what will make me happy--your affection, and the\r
+invariable kindness of my dear uncle and aunt. Let me hear from you very\r
+soon. Miss Bingley said something of his never returning to Netherfield\r
+again, of giving up the house, but not with any certainty. We had better\r
+not mention it. I am extremely glad that you have such pleasant accounts\r
+from our friends at Hunsford. Pray go to see them, with Sir William and\r
+Maria. I am sure you will be very comfortable there.--Yours, etc."\r
+\r
+This letter gave Elizabeth some pain; but her spirits returned as she\r
+considered that Jane would no longer be duped, by the sister at least.\r
+All expectation from the brother was now absolutely over. She would not\r
+even wish for a renewal of his attentions. His character sunk on\r
+every review of it; and as a punishment for him, as well as a possible\r
+advantage to Jane, she seriously hoped he might really soon marry Mr.\r
+Darcy's sister, as by Wickham's account, she would make him abundantly\r
+regret what he had thrown away.\r
+\r
+Mrs. Gardiner about this time reminded Elizabeth of her promise\r
+concerning that gentleman, and required information; and Elizabeth\r
+had such to send as might rather give contentment to her aunt than to\r
+herself. His apparent partiality had subsided, his attentions were over,\r
+he was the admirer of some one else. Elizabeth was watchful enough to\r
+see it all, but she could see it and write of it without material pain.\r
+Her heart had been but slightly touched, and her vanity was satisfied\r
+with believing that _she_ would have been his only choice, had fortune\r
+permitted it. The sudden acquisition of ten thousand pounds was the most\r
+remarkable charm of the young lady to whom he was now rendering himself\r
+agreeable; but Elizabeth, less clear-sighted perhaps in this case than\r
+in Charlotte's, did not quarrel with him for his wish of independence.\r
+Nothing, on the contrary, could be more natural; and while able to\r
+suppose that it cost him a few struggles to relinquish her, she was\r
+ready to allow it a wise and desirable measure for both, and could very\r
+sincerely wish him happy.\r
+\r
+All this was acknowledged to Mrs. Gardiner; and after relating the\r
+circumstances, she thus went on: "I am now convinced, my dear aunt, that\r
+I have never been much in love; for had I really experienced that pure\r
+and elevating passion, I should at present detest his very name, and\r
+wish him all manner of evil. But my feelings are not only cordial\r
+towards _him_; they are even impartial towards Miss King. I cannot find\r
+out that I hate her at all, or that I am in the least unwilling to\r
+think her a very good sort of girl. There can be no love in all this. My\r
+watchfulness has been effectual; and though I certainly should be a more\r
+interesting object to all my acquaintances were I distractedly in love\r
+with him, I cannot say that I regret my comparative insignificance.\r
+Importance may sometimes be purchased too dearly. Kitty and Lydia take\r
+his defection much more to heart than I do. They are young in the\r
+ways of the world, and not yet open to the mortifying conviction that\r
+handsome young men must have something to live on as well as the plain."\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 27\r
+\r
+\r
+With no greater events than these in the Longbourn family, and otherwise\r
+diversified by little beyond the walks to Meryton, sometimes dirty and\r
+sometimes cold, did January and February pass away. March was to take\r
+Elizabeth to Hunsford. She had not at first thought very seriously of\r
+going thither; but Charlotte, she soon found, was depending on the plan\r
+and she gradually learned to consider it herself with greater pleasure\r
+as well as greater certainty. Absence had increased her desire of seeing\r
+Charlotte again, and weakened her disgust of Mr. Collins. There\r
+was novelty in the scheme, and as, with such a mother and such\r
+uncompanionable sisters, home could not be faultless, a little change\r
+was not unwelcome for its own sake. The journey would moreover give her\r
+a peep at Jane; and, in short, as the time drew near, she would have\r
+been very sorry for any delay. Everything, however, went on smoothly,\r
+and was finally settled according to Charlotte's first sketch. She was\r
+to accompany Sir William and his second daughter. The improvement\r
+of spending a night in London was added in time, and the plan became\r
+perfect as plan could be.\r
+\r
+The only pain was in leaving her father, who would certainly miss her,\r
+and who, when it came to the point, so little liked her going, that he\r
+told her to write to him, and almost promised to answer her letter.\r
+\r
+The farewell between herself and Mr. Wickham was perfectly friendly; on\r
+his side even more. His present pursuit could not make him forget that\r
+Elizabeth had been the first to excite and to deserve his attention, the\r
+first to listen and to pity, the first to be admired; and in his manner\r
+of bidding her adieu, wishing her every enjoyment, reminding her of\r
+what she was to expect in Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and trusting their\r
+opinion of her--their opinion of everybody--would always coincide, there\r
+was a solicitude, an interest which she felt must ever attach her to\r
+him with a most sincere regard; and she parted from him convinced that,\r
+whether married or single, he must always be her model of the amiable\r
+and pleasing.\r
+\r
+Her fellow-travellers the next day were not of a kind to make her\r
+think him less agreeable. Sir William Lucas, and his daughter Maria, a\r
+good-humoured girl, but as empty-headed as himself, had nothing to say\r
+that could be worth hearing, and were listened to with about as much\r
+delight as the rattle of the chaise. Elizabeth loved absurdities, but\r
+she had known Sir William's too long. He could tell her nothing new of\r
+the wonders of his presentation and knighthood; and his civilities were\r
+worn out, like his information.\r
+\r
+It was a journey of only twenty-four miles, and they began it so early\r
+as to be in Gracechurch Street by noon. As they drove to Mr. Gardiner's\r
+door, Jane was at a drawing-room window watching their arrival; when\r
+they entered the passage she was there to welcome them, and Elizabeth,\r
+looking earnestly in her face, was pleased to see it healthful and\r
+lovely as ever. On the stairs were a troop of little boys and girls,\r
+whose eagerness for their cousin's appearance would not allow them to\r
+wait in the drawing-room, and whose shyness, as they had not seen\r
+her for a twelvemonth, prevented their coming lower. All was joy and\r
+kindness. The day passed most pleasantly away; the morning in bustle and\r
+shopping, and the evening at one of the theatres.\r
+\r
+Elizabeth then contrived to sit by her aunt. Their first object was her\r
+sister; and she was more grieved than astonished to hear, in reply to\r
+her minute inquiries, that though Jane always struggled to support her\r
+spirits, there were periods of dejection. It was reasonable, however,\r
+to hope that they would not continue long. Mrs. Gardiner gave her the\r
+particulars also of Miss Bingley's visit in Gracechurch Street, and\r
+repeated conversations occurring at different times between Jane and\r
+herself, which proved that the former had, from her heart, given up the\r
+acquaintance.\r
+\r
+Mrs. Gardiner then rallied her niece on Wickham's desertion, and\r
+complimented her on bearing it so well.\r
+\r
+"But my dear Elizabeth," she added, "what sort of girl is Miss King? I\r
+should be sorry to think our friend mercenary."\r
+\r
+"Pray, my dear aunt, what is the difference in matrimonial affairs,\r
+between the mercenary and the prudent motive? Where does discretion end,\r
+and avarice begin? Last Christmas you were afraid of his marrying me,\r
+because it would be imprudent; and now, because he is trying to get\r
+a girl with only ten thousand pounds, you want to find out that he is\r
+mercenary."\r
+\r
+"If you will only tell me what sort of girl Miss King is, I shall know\r
+what to think."\r
+\r
+"She is a very good kind of girl, I believe. I know no harm of her."\r
+\r
+"But he paid her not the smallest attention till her grandfather's death\r
+made her mistress of this fortune."\r
+\r
+"No--why should he? If it were not allowable for him to gain _my_\r
+affections because I had no money, what occasion could there be for\r
+making love to a girl whom he did not care about, and who was equally\r
+poor?"\r
+\r
+"But there seems an indelicacy in directing his attentions towards her\r
+so soon after this event."\r
+\r
+"A man in distressed circumstances has not time for all those elegant\r
+decorums which other people may observe. If _she_ does not object to it,\r
+why should _we_?"\r
+\r
+"_Her_ not objecting does not justify _him_. It only shows her being\r
+deficient in something herself--sense or feeling."\r
+\r
+"Well," cried Elizabeth, "have it as you choose. _He_ shall be\r
+mercenary, and _she_ shall be foolish."\r
+\r
+"No, Lizzy, that is what I do _not_ choose. I should be sorry, you know,\r
+to think ill of a young man who has lived so long in Derbyshire."\r
+\r
+"Oh! if that is all, I have a very poor opinion of young men who live in\r
+Derbyshire; and their intimate friends who live in Hertfordshire are not\r
+much better. I am sick of them all. Thank Heaven! I am going to-morrow\r
+where I shall find a man who has not one agreeable quality, who has\r
+neither manner nor sense to recommend him. Stupid men are the only ones\r
+worth knowing, after all."\r
+\r
+"Take care, Lizzy; that speech savours strongly of disappointment."\r
+\r
+Before they were separated by the conclusion of the play, she had the\r
+unexpected happiness of an invitation to accompany her uncle and aunt in\r
+a tour of pleasure which they proposed taking in the summer.\r
+\r
+"We have not determined how far it shall carry us," said Mrs. Gardiner,\r
+"but, perhaps, to the Lakes."\r
+\r
+No scheme could have been more agreeable to Elizabeth, and her\r
+acceptance of the invitation was most ready and grateful. "Oh, my dear,\r
+dear aunt," she rapturously cried, "what delight! what felicity! You\r
+give me fresh life and vigour. Adieu to disappointment and spleen. What\r
+are young men to rocks and mountains? Oh! what hours of transport\r
+we shall spend! And when we _do_ return, it shall not be like other\r
+travellers, without being able to give one accurate idea of anything. We\r
+_will_ know where we have gone--we _will_ recollect what we have seen.\r
+Lakes, mountains, and rivers shall not be jumbled together in our\r
+imaginations; nor when we attempt to describe any particular scene,\r
+will we begin quarreling about its relative situation. Let _our_\r
+first effusions be less insupportable than those of the generality of\r
+travellers."\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 28\r
+\r
+\r
+Every object in the next day's journey was new and interesting to\r
+Elizabeth; and her spirits were in a state of enjoyment; for she had\r
+seen her sister looking so well as to banish all fear for her health,\r
+and the prospect of her northern tour was a constant source of delight.\r
+\r
+When they left the high road for the lane to Hunsford, every eye was in\r
+search of the Parsonage, and every turning expected to bring it in view.\r
+The palings of Rosings Park was their boundary on one side. Elizabeth\r
+smiled at the recollection of all that she had heard of its inhabitants.\r
+\r
+At length the Parsonage was discernible. The garden sloping to the\r
+road, the house standing in it, the green pales, and the laurel hedge,\r
+everything declared they were arriving. Mr. Collins and Charlotte\r
+appeared at the door, and the carriage stopped at the small gate which\r
+led by a short gravel walk to the house, amidst the nods and smiles of\r
+the whole party. In a moment they were all out of the chaise, rejoicing\r
+at the sight of each other. Mrs. Collins welcomed her friend with the\r
+liveliest pleasure, and Elizabeth was more and more satisfied with\r
+coming when she found herself so affectionately received. She saw\r
+instantly that her cousin's manners were not altered by his marriage;\r
+his formal civility was just what it had been, and he detained her some\r
+minutes at the gate to hear and satisfy his inquiries after all her\r
+family. They were then, with no other delay than his pointing out the\r
+neatness of the entrance, taken into the house; and as soon as they\r
+were in the parlour, he welcomed them a second time, with ostentatious\r
+formality to his humble abode, and punctually repeated all his wife's\r
+offers of refreshment.\r
+\r
+Elizabeth was prepared to see him in his glory; and she could not help\r
+in fancying that in displaying the good proportion of the room, its\r
+aspect and its furniture, he addressed himself particularly to her,\r
+as if wishing to make her feel what she had lost in refusing him. But\r
+though everything seemed neat and comfortable, she was not able to\r
+gratify him by any sigh of repentance, and rather looked with wonder at\r
+her friend that she could have so cheerful an air with such a companion.\r
+When Mr. Collins said anything of which his wife might reasonably be\r
+ashamed, which certainly was not unseldom, she involuntarily turned her\r
+eye on Charlotte. Once or twice she could discern a faint blush; but\r
+in general Charlotte wisely did not hear. After sitting long enough to\r
+admire every article of furniture in the room, from the sideboard to\r
+the fender, to give an account of their journey, and of all that had\r
+happened in London, Mr. Collins invited them to take a stroll in the\r
+garden, which was large and well laid out, and to the cultivation of\r
+which he attended himself. To work in this garden was one of his most\r
+respectable pleasures; and Elizabeth admired the command of countenance\r
+with which Charlotte talked of the healthfulness of the exercise, and\r
+owned she encouraged it as much as possible. Here, leading the way\r
+through every walk and cross walk, and scarcely allowing them an\r
+interval to utter the praises he asked for, every view was pointed out\r
+with a minuteness which left beauty entirely behind. He could number the\r
+fields in every direction, and could tell how many trees there were in\r
+the most distant clump. But of all the views which his garden, or which\r
+the country or kingdom could boast, none were to be compared with the\r
+prospect of Rosings, afforded by an opening in the trees that bordered\r
+the park nearly opposite the front of his house. It was a handsome\r
+modern building, well situated on rising ground.\r
+\r
+From his garden, Mr. Collins would have led them round his two meadows;\r
+but the ladies, not having shoes to encounter the remains of a white\r
+frost, turned back; and while Sir William accompanied him, Charlotte\r
+took her sister and friend over the house, extremely well pleased,\r
+probably, to have the opportunity of showing it without her husband's\r
+help. It was rather small, but well built and convenient; and everything\r
+was fitted up and arranged with a neatness and consistency of which\r
+Elizabeth gave Charlotte all the credit. When Mr. Collins could be\r
+forgotten, there was really an air of great comfort throughout, and by\r
+Charlotte's evident enjoyment of it, Elizabeth supposed he must be often\r
+forgotten.\r
+\r
+She had already learnt that Lady Catherine was still in the country. It\r
+was spoken of again while they were at dinner, when Mr. Collins joining\r
+in, observed:\r
+\r
+"Yes, Miss Elizabeth, you will have the honour of seeing Lady Catherine\r
+de Bourgh on the ensuing Sunday at church, and I need not say you will\r
+be delighted with her. She is all affability and condescension, and I\r
+doubt not but you will be honoured with some portion of her notice\r
+when service is over. I have scarcely any hesitation in saying she\r
+will include you and my sister Maria in every invitation with which she\r
+honours us during your stay here. Her behaviour to my dear Charlotte is\r
+charming. We dine at Rosings twice every week, and are never allowed\r
+to walk home. Her ladyship's carriage is regularly ordered for us. I\r
+_should_ say, one of her ladyship's carriages, for she has several."\r
+\r
+"Lady Catherine is a very respectable, sensible woman indeed," added\r
+Charlotte, "and a most attentive neighbour."\r
+\r
+"Very true, my dear, that is exactly what I say. She is the sort of\r
+woman whom one cannot regard with too much deference."\r
+\r
+The evening was spent chiefly in talking over Hertfordshire news,\r
+and telling again what had already been written; and when it closed,\r
+Elizabeth, in the solitude of her chamber, had to meditate upon\r
+Charlotte's degree of contentment, to understand her address in guiding,\r
+and composure in bearing with, her husband, and to acknowledge that it\r
+was all done very well. She had also to anticipate how her visit\r
+would pass, the quiet tenor of their usual employments, the vexatious\r
+interruptions of Mr. Collins, and the gaieties of their intercourse with\r
+Rosings. A lively imagination soon settled it all.\r
+\r
+About the middle of the next day, as she was in her room getting ready\r
+for a walk, a sudden noise below seemed to speak the whole house in\r
+confusion; and, after listening a moment, she heard somebody running\r
+up stairs in a violent hurry, and calling loudly after her. She opened\r
+the door and met Maria in the landing place, who, breathless with\r
+agitation, cried out--\r
+\r
+"Oh, my dear Eliza! pray make haste and come into the dining-room, for\r
+there is such a sight to be seen! I will not tell you what it is. Make\r
+haste, and come down this moment."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth asked questions in vain; Maria would tell her nothing more,\r
+and down they ran into the dining-room, which fronted the lane, in\r
+quest of this wonder; It was two ladies stopping in a low phaeton at the\r
+garden gate.\r
+\r
+"And is this all?" cried Elizabeth. "I expected at least that the pigs\r
+were got into the garden, and here is nothing but Lady Catherine and her\r
+daughter."\r
+\r
+"La! my dear," said Maria, quite shocked at the mistake, "it is not\r
+Lady Catherine. The old lady is Mrs. Jenkinson, who lives with them;\r
+the other is Miss de Bourgh. Only look at her. She is quite a little\r
+creature. Who would have thought that she could be so thin and small?"\r
+\r
+"She is abominably rude to keep Charlotte out of doors in all this wind.\r
+Why does she not come in?"\r
+\r
+"Oh, Charlotte says she hardly ever does. It is the greatest of favours\r
+when Miss de Bourgh comes in."\r
+\r
+"I like her appearance," said Elizabeth, struck with other ideas. "She\r
+looks sickly and cross. Yes, she will do for him very well. She will\r
+make him a very proper wife."\r
+\r
+Mr. Collins and Charlotte were both standing at the gate in conversation\r
+with the ladies; and Sir William, to Elizabeth's high diversion, was\r
+stationed in the doorway, in earnest contemplation of the greatness\r
+before him, and constantly bowing whenever Miss de Bourgh looked that\r
+way.\r
+\r
+At length there was nothing more to be said; the ladies drove on, and\r
+the others returned into the house. Mr. Collins no sooner saw the two\r
+girls than he began to congratulate them on their good fortune, which\r
+Charlotte explained by letting them know that the whole party was asked\r
+to dine at Rosings the next day.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 29\r
+\r
+\r
+Mr. Collins's triumph, in consequence of this invitation, was complete.\r
+The power of displaying the grandeur of his patroness to his wondering\r
+visitors, and of letting them see her civility towards himself and his\r
+wife, was exactly what he had wished for; and that an opportunity\r
+of doing it should be given so soon, was such an instance of Lady\r
+Catherine's condescension, as he knew not how to admire enough.\r
+\r
+"I confess," said he, "that I should not have been at all surprised by\r
+her ladyship's asking us on Sunday to drink tea and spend the evening at\r
+Rosings. I rather expected, from my knowledge of her affability, that it\r
+would happen. But who could have foreseen such an attention as this? Who\r
+could have imagined that we should receive an invitation to dine there\r
+(an invitation, moreover, including the whole party) so immediately\r
+after your arrival!"\r
+\r
+"I am the less surprised at what has happened," replied Sir William,\r
+"from that knowledge of what the manners of the great really are, which\r
+my situation in life has allowed me to acquire. About the court, such\r
+instances of elegant breeding are not uncommon."\r
+\r
+Scarcely anything was talked of the whole day or next morning but their\r
+visit to Rosings. Mr. Collins was carefully instructing them in what\r
+they were to expect, that the sight of such rooms, so many servants, and\r
+so splendid a dinner, might not wholly overpower them.\r
+\r
+When the ladies were separating for the toilette, he said to Elizabeth--\r
+\r
+"Do not make yourself uneasy, my dear cousin, about your apparel. Lady\r
+Catherine is far from requiring that elegance of dress in us which\r
+becomes herself and her daughter. I would advise you merely to put on\r
+whatever of your clothes is superior to the rest--there is no occasion\r
+for anything more. Lady Catherine will not think the worse of you\r
+for being simply dressed. She likes to have the distinction of rank\r
+preserved."\r
+\r
+While they were dressing, he came two or three times to their different\r
+doors, to recommend their being quick, as Lady Catherine very much\r
+objected to be kept waiting for her dinner. Such formidable accounts of\r
+her ladyship, and her manner of living, quite frightened Maria Lucas\r
+who had been little used to company, and she looked forward to her\r
+introduction at Rosings with as much apprehension as her father had done\r
+to his presentation at St. James's.\r
+\r
+As the weather was fine, they had a pleasant walk of about half a\r
+mile across the park. Every park has its beauty and its prospects; and\r
+Elizabeth saw much to be pleased with, though she could not be in such\r
+raptures as Mr. Collins expected the scene to inspire, and was but\r
+slightly affected by his enumeration of the windows in front of the\r
+house, and his relation of what the glazing altogether had originally\r
+cost Sir Lewis de Bourgh.\r
+\r
+When they ascended the steps to the hall, Maria's alarm was every\r
+moment increasing, and even Sir William did not look perfectly calm.\r
+Elizabeth's courage did not fail her. She had heard nothing of Lady\r
+Catherine that spoke her awful from any extraordinary talents or\r
+miraculous virtue, and the mere stateliness of money or rank she thought\r
+she could witness without trepidation.\r
+\r
+From the entrance-hall, of which Mr. Collins pointed out, with a\r
+rapturous air, the fine proportion and the finished ornaments, they\r
+followed the servants through an ante-chamber, to the room where Lady\r
+Catherine, her daughter, and Mrs. Jenkinson were sitting. Her ladyship,\r
+with great condescension, arose to receive them; and as Mrs. Collins had\r
+settled it with her husband that the office of introduction should\r
+be hers, it was performed in a proper manner, without any of those\r
+apologies and thanks which he would have thought necessary.\r
+\r
+In spite of having been at St. James's, Sir William was so completely\r
+awed by the grandeur surrounding him, that he had but just courage\r
+enough to make a very low bow, and take his seat without saying a word;\r
+and his daughter, frightened almost out of her senses, sat on the edge\r
+of her chair, not knowing which way to look. Elizabeth found herself\r
+quite equal to the scene, and could observe the three ladies before her\r
+composedly. Lady Catherine was a tall, large woman, with strongly-marked\r
+features, which might once have been handsome. Her air was not\r
+conciliating, nor was her manner of receiving them such as to make her\r
+visitors forget their inferior rank. She was not rendered formidable by\r
+silence; but whatever she said was spoken in so authoritative a tone,\r
+as marked her self-importance, and brought Mr. Wickham immediately to\r
+Elizabeth's mind; and from the observation of the day altogether, she\r
+believed Lady Catherine to be exactly what he represented.\r
+\r
+When, after examining the mother, in whose countenance and deportment\r
+she soon found some resemblance of Mr. Darcy, she turned her eyes on the\r
+daughter, she could almost have joined in Maria's astonishment at her\r
+being so thin and so small. There was neither in figure nor face any\r
+likeness between the ladies. Miss de Bourgh was pale and sickly; her\r
+features, though not plain, were insignificant; and she spoke very\r
+little, except in a low voice, to Mrs. Jenkinson, in whose appearance\r
+there was nothing remarkable, and who was entirely engaged in listening\r
+to what she said, and placing a screen in the proper direction before\r
+her eyes.\r
+\r
+After sitting a few minutes, they were all sent to one of the windows to\r
+admire the view, Mr. Collins attending them to point out its beauties,\r
+and Lady Catherine kindly informing them that it was much better worth\r
+looking at in the summer.\r
+\r
+The dinner was exceedingly handsome, and there were all the servants and\r
+all the articles of plate which Mr. Collins had promised; and, as he had\r
+likewise foretold, he took his seat at the bottom of the table, by her\r
+ladyship's desire, and looked as if he felt that life could furnish\r
+nothing greater. He carved, and ate, and praised with delighted\r
+alacrity; and every dish was commended, first by him and then by Sir\r
+William, who was now enough recovered to echo whatever his son-in-law\r
+said, in a manner which Elizabeth wondered Lady Catherine could bear.\r
+But Lady Catherine seemed gratified by their excessive admiration, and\r
+gave most gracious smiles, especially when any dish on the table proved\r
+a novelty to them. The party did not supply much conversation. Elizabeth\r
+was ready to speak whenever there was an opening, but she was seated\r
+between Charlotte and Miss de Bourgh--the former of whom was engaged in\r
+listening to Lady Catherine, and the latter said not a word to her all\r
+dinner-time. Mrs. Jenkinson was chiefly employed in watching how little\r
+Miss de Bourgh ate, pressing her to try some other dish, and fearing\r
+she was indisposed. Maria thought speaking out of the question, and the\r
+gentlemen did nothing but eat and admire.\r
+\r
+When the ladies returned to the drawing-room, there was little to\r
+be done but to hear Lady Catherine talk, which she did without any\r
+intermission till coffee came in, delivering her opinion on every\r
+subject in so decisive a manner, as proved that she was not used to\r
+have her judgement controverted. She inquired into Charlotte's domestic\r
+concerns familiarly and minutely, gave her a great deal of advice as\r
+to the management of them all; told her how everything ought to be\r
+regulated in so small a family as hers, and instructed her as to the\r
+care of her cows and her poultry. Elizabeth found that nothing was\r
+beneath this great lady's attention, which could furnish her with an\r
+occasion of dictating to others. In the intervals of her discourse\r
+with Mrs. Collins, she addressed a variety of questions to Maria and\r
+Elizabeth, but especially to the latter, of whose connections she knew\r
+the least, and who she observed to Mrs. Collins was a very genteel,\r
+pretty kind of girl. She asked her, at different times, how many sisters\r
+she had, whether they were older or younger than herself, whether any of\r
+them were likely to be married, whether they were handsome, where they\r
+had been educated, what carriage her father kept, and what had been\r
+her mother's maiden name? Elizabeth felt all the impertinence of\r
+her questions but answered them very composedly. Lady Catherine then\r
+observed,\r
+\r
+"Your father's estate is entailed on Mr. Collins, I think. For your\r
+sake," turning to Charlotte, "I am glad of it; but otherwise I see no\r
+occasion for entailing estates from the female line. It was not thought\r
+necessary in Sir Lewis de Bourgh's family. Do you play and sing, Miss\r
+Bennet?"\r
+\r
+"A little."\r
+\r
+"Oh! then--some time or other we shall be happy to hear you. Our\r
+instrument is a capital one, probably superior to----You shall try it\r
+some day. Do your sisters play and sing?"\r
+\r
+"One of them does."\r
+\r
+"Why did not you all learn? You ought all to have learned. The Miss\r
+Webbs all play, and their father has not so good an income as yours. Do\r
+you draw?"\r
+\r
+"No, not at all."\r
+\r
+"What, none of you?"\r
+\r
+"Not one."\r
+\r
+"That is very strange. But I suppose you had no opportunity. Your mother\r
+should have taken you to town every spring for the benefit of masters."\r
+\r
+"My mother would have had no objection, but my father hates London."\r
+\r
+"Has your governess left you?"\r
+\r
+"We never had any governess."\r
+\r
+"No governess! How was that possible? Five daughters brought up at home\r
+without a governess! I never heard of such a thing. Your mother must\r
+have been quite a slave to your education."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth could hardly help smiling as she assured her that had not been\r
+the case.\r
+\r
+"Then, who taught you? who attended to you? Without a governess, you\r
+must have been neglected."\r
+\r
+"Compared with some families, I believe we were; but such of us as\r
+wished to learn never wanted the means. We were always encouraged to\r
+read, and had all the masters that were necessary. Those who chose to be\r
+idle, certainly might."\r
+\r
+"Aye, no doubt; but that is what a governess will prevent, and if I had\r
+known your mother, I should have advised her most strenuously to engage\r
+one. I always say that nothing is to be done in education without steady\r
+and regular instruction, and nobody but a governess can give it. It is\r
+wonderful how many families I have been the means of supplying in that\r
+way. I am always glad to get a young person well placed out. Four nieces\r
+of Mrs. Jenkinson are most delightfully situated through my means; and\r
+it was but the other day that I recommended another young person,\r
+who was merely accidentally mentioned to me, and the family are quite\r
+delighted with her. Mrs. Collins, did I tell you of Lady Metcalf's\r
+calling yesterday to thank me? She finds Miss Pope a treasure. 'Lady\r
+Catherine,' said she, 'you have given me a treasure.' Are any of your\r
+younger sisters out, Miss Bennet?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, ma'am, all."\r
+\r
+"All! What, all five out at once? Very odd! And you only the second. The\r
+younger ones out before the elder ones are married! Your younger sisters\r
+must be very young?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, my youngest is not sixteen. Perhaps _she_ is full young to be\r
+much in company. But really, ma'am, I think it would be very hard upon\r
+younger sisters, that they should not have their share of society and\r
+amusement, because the elder may not have the means or inclination to\r
+marry early. The last-born has as good a right to the pleasures of youth\r
+as the first. And to be kept back on _such_ a motive! I think it would\r
+not be very likely to promote sisterly affection or delicacy of mind."\r
+\r
+"Upon my word," said her ladyship, "you give your opinion very decidedly\r
+for so young a person. Pray, what is your age?"\r
+\r
+"With three younger sisters grown up," replied Elizabeth, smiling, "your\r
+ladyship can hardly expect me to own it."\r
+\r
+Lady Catherine seemed quite astonished at not receiving a direct answer;\r
+and Elizabeth suspected herself to be the first creature who had ever\r
+dared to trifle with so much dignified impertinence.\r
+\r
+"You cannot be more than twenty, I am sure, therefore you need not\r
+conceal your age."\r
+\r
+"I am not one-and-twenty."\r
+\r
+When the gentlemen had joined them, and tea was over, the card-tables\r
+were placed. Lady Catherine, Sir William, and Mr. and Mrs. Collins sat\r
+down to quadrille; and as Miss de Bourgh chose to play at cassino, the\r
+two girls had the honour of assisting Mrs. Jenkinson to make up her\r
+party. Their table was superlatively stupid. Scarcely a syllable was\r
+uttered that did not relate to the game, except when Mrs. Jenkinson\r
+expressed her fears of Miss de Bourgh's being too hot or too cold, or\r
+having too much or too little light. A great deal more passed at the\r
+other table. Lady Catherine was generally speaking--stating the mistakes\r
+of the three others, or relating some anecdote of herself. Mr. Collins\r
+was employed in agreeing to everything her ladyship said, thanking her\r
+for every fish he won, and apologising if he thought he won too many.\r
+Sir William did not say much. He was storing his memory with anecdotes\r
+and noble names.\r
+\r
+When Lady Catherine and her daughter had played as long as they chose,\r
+the tables were broken up, the carriage was offered to Mrs. Collins,\r
+gratefully accepted and immediately ordered. The party then gathered\r
+round the fire to hear Lady Catherine determine what weather they were\r
+to have on the morrow. From these instructions they were summoned by\r
+the arrival of the coach; and with many speeches of thankfulness on Mr.\r
+Collins's side and as many bows on Sir William's they departed. As soon\r
+as they had driven from the door, Elizabeth was called on by her cousin\r
+to give her opinion of all that she had seen at Rosings, which, for\r
+Charlotte's sake, she made more favourable than it really was. But her\r
+commendation, though costing her some trouble, could by no means satisfy\r
+Mr. Collins, and he was very soon obliged to take her ladyship's praise\r
+into his own hands.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 30\r
+\r
+\r
+Sir William stayed only a week at Hunsford, but his visit was long\r
+enough to convince him of his daughter's being most comfortably settled,\r
+and of her possessing such a husband and such a neighbour as were not\r
+often met with. While Sir William was with them, Mr. Collins devoted his\r
+morning to driving him out in his gig, and showing him the country; but\r
+when he went away, the whole family returned to their usual employments,\r
+and Elizabeth was thankful to find that they did not see more of her\r
+cousin by the alteration, for the chief of the time between breakfast\r
+and dinner was now passed by him either at work in the garden or in\r
+reading and writing, and looking out of the window in his own book-room,\r
+which fronted the road. The room in which the ladies sat was backwards.\r
+Elizabeth had at first rather wondered that Charlotte should not prefer\r
+the dining-parlour for common use; it was a better sized room, and had a\r
+more pleasant aspect; but she soon saw that her friend had an excellent\r
+reason for what she did, for Mr. Collins would undoubtedly have been\r
+much less in his own apartment, had they sat in one equally lively; and\r
+she gave Charlotte credit for the arrangement.\r
+\r
+From the drawing-room they could distinguish nothing in the lane, and\r
+were indebted to Mr. Collins for the knowledge of what carriages went\r
+along, and how often especially Miss de Bourgh drove by in her phaeton,\r
+which he never failed coming to inform them of, though it happened\r
+almost every day. She not unfrequently stopped at the Parsonage, and\r
+had a few minutes' conversation with Charlotte, but was scarcely ever\r
+prevailed upon to get out.\r
+\r
+Very few days passed in which Mr. Collins did not walk to Rosings, and\r
+not many in which his wife did not think it necessary to go likewise;\r
+and till Elizabeth recollected that there might be other family livings\r
+to be disposed of, she could not understand the sacrifice of so many\r
+hours. Now and then they were honoured with a call from her ladyship,\r
+and nothing escaped her observation that was passing in the room during\r
+these visits. She examined into their employments, looked at their work,\r
+and advised them to do it differently; found fault with the arrangement\r
+of the furniture; or detected the housemaid in negligence; and if she\r
+accepted any refreshment, seemed to do it only for the sake of finding\r
+out that Mrs. Collins's joints of meat were too large for her family.\r
+\r
+Elizabeth soon perceived, that though this great lady was not in\r
+commission of the peace of the county, she was a most active magistrate\r
+in her own parish, the minutest concerns of which were carried to her\r
+by Mr. Collins; and whenever any of the cottagers were disposed to\r
+be quarrelsome, discontented, or too poor, she sallied forth into the\r
+village to settle their differences, silence their complaints, and scold\r
+them into harmony and plenty.\r
+\r
+The entertainment of dining at Rosings was repeated about twice a week;\r
+and, allowing for the loss of Sir William, and there being only one\r
+card-table in the evening, every such entertainment was the counterpart\r
+of the first. Their other engagements were few, as the style of living\r
+in the neighbourhood in general was beyond Mr. Collins's reach. This,\r
+however, was no evil to Elizabeth, and upon the whole she spent her time\r
+comfortably enough; there were half-hours of pleasant conversation with\r
+Charlotte, and the weather was so fine for the time of year that she had\r
+often great enjoyment out of doors. Her favourite walk, and where she\r
+frequently went while the others were calling on Lady Catherine, was\r
+along the open grove which edged that side of the park, where there was\r
+a nice sheltered path, which no one seemed to value but herself, and\r
+where she felt beyond the reach of Lady Catherine's curiosity.\r
+\r
+In this quiet way, the first fortnight of her visit soon passed away.\r
+Easter was approaching, and the week preceding it was to bring an\r
+addition to the family at Rosings, which in so small a circle must be\r
+important. Elizabeth had heard soon after her arrival that Mr. Darcy was\r
+expected there in the course of a few weeks, and though there were not\r
+many of her acquaintances whom she did not prefer, his coming would\r
+furnish one comparatively new to look at in their Rosings parties, and\r
+she might be amused in seeing how hopeless Miss Bingley's designs on him\r
+were, by his behaviour to his cousin, for whom he was evidently\r
+destined by Lady Catherine, who talked of his coming with the greatest\r
+satisfaction, spoke of him in terms of the highest admiration, and\r
+seemed almost angry to find that he had already been frequently seen by\r
+Miss Lucas and herself.\r
+\r
+His arrival was soon known at the Parsonage; for Mr. Collins was walking\r
+the whole morning within view of the lodges opening into Hunsford Lane,\r
+in order to have the earliest assurance of it, and after making his\r
+bow as the carriage turned into the Park, hurried home with the great\r
+intelligence. On the following morning he hastened to Rosings to pay his\r
+respects. There were two nephews of Lady Catherine to require them, for\r
+Mr. Darcy had brought with him a Colonel Fitzwilliam, the younger son of\r
+his uncle Lord ----, and, to the great surprise of all the party, when\r
+Mr. Collins returned, the gentlemen accompanied him. Charlotte had seen\r
+them from her husband's room, crossing the road, and immediately running\r
+into the other, told the girls what an honour they might expect, adding:\r
+\r
+"I may thank you, Eliza, for this piece of civility. Mr. Darcy would\r
+never have come so soon to wait upon me."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth had scarcely time to disclaim all right to the compliment,\r
+before their approach was announced by the door-bell, and shortly\r
+afterwards the three gentlemen entered the room. Colonel Fitzwilliam,\r
+who led the way, was about thirty, not handsome, but in person and\r
+address most truly the gentleman. Mr. Darcy looked just as he had been\r
+used to look in Hertfordshire--paid his compliments, with his usual\r
+reserve, to Mrs. Collins, and whatever might be his feelings toward her\r
+friend, met her with every appearance of composure. Elizabeth merely\r
+curtseyed to him without saying a word.\r
+\r
+Colonel Fitzwilliam entered into conversation directly with the\r
+readiness and ease of a well-bred man, and talked very pleasantly; but\r
+his cousin, after having addressed a slight observation on the house and\r
+garden to Mrs. Collins, sat for some time without speaking to anybody.\r
+At length, however, his civility was so far awakened as to inquire of\r
+Elizabeth after the health of her family. She answered him in the usual\r
+way, and after a moment's pause, added:\r
+\r
+"My eldest sister has been in town these three months. Have you never\r
+happened to see her there?"\r
+\r
+She was perfectly sensible that he never had; but she wished to see\r
+whether he would betray any consciousness of what had passed between\r
+the Bingleys and Jane, and she thought he looked a little confused as he\r
+answered that he had never been so fortunate as to meet Miss Bennet. The\r
+subject was pursued no farther, and the gentlemen soon afterwards went\r
+away.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 31\r
+\r
+\r
+Colonel Fitzwilliam's manners were very much admired at the Parsonage,\r
+and the ladies all felt that he must add considerably to the pleasures\r
+of their engagements at Rosings. It was some days, however, before they\r
+received any invitation thither--for while there were visitors in the\r
+house, they could not be necessary; and it was not till Easter-day,\r
+almost a week after the gentlemen's arrival, that they were honoured by\r
+such an attention, and then they were merely asked on leaving church to\r
+come there in the evening. For the last week they had seen very little\r
+of Lady Catherine or her daughter. Colonel Fitzwilliam had called at the\r
+Parsonage more than once during the time, but Mr. Darcy they had seen\r
+only at church.\r
+\r
+The invitation was accepted of course, and at a proper hour they joined\r
+the party in Lady Catherine's drawing-room. Her ladyship received\r
+them civilly, but it was plain that their company was by no means so\r
+acceptable as when she could get nobody else; and she was, in fact,\r
+almost engrossed by her nephews, speaking to them, especially to Darcy,\r
+much more than to any other person in the room.\r
+\r
+Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed really glad to see them; anything was a\r
+welcome relief to him at Rosings; and Mrs. Collins's pretty friend had\r
+moreover caught his fancy very much. He now seated himself by her, and\r
+talked so agreeably of Kent and Hertfordshire, of travelling and staying\r
+at home, of new books and music, that Elizabeth had never been half so\r
+well entertained in that room before; and they conversed with so much\r
+spirit and flow, as to draw the attention of Lady Catherine herself,\r
+as well as of Mr. Darcy. _His_ eyes had been soon and repeatedly turned\r
+towards them with a look of curiosity; and that her ladyship, after a\r
+while, shared the feeling, was more openly acknowledged, for she did not\r
+scruple to call out:\r
+\r
+"What is that you are saying, Fitzwilliam? What is it you are talking\r
+of? What are you telling Miss Bennet? Let me hear what it is."\r
+\r
+"We are speaking of music, madam," said he, when no longer able to avoid\r
+a reply.\r
+\r
+"Of music! Then pray speak aloud. It is of all subjects my delight. I\r
+must have my share in the conversation if you are speaking of music.\r
+There are few people in England, I suppose, who have more true enjoyment\r
+of music than myself, or a better natural taste. If I had ever learnt,\r
+I should have been a great proficient. And so would Anne, if her health\r
+had allowed her to apply. I am confident that she would have performed\r
+delightfully. How does Georgiana get on, Darcy?"\r
+\r
+Mr. Darcy spoke with affectionate praise of his sister's proficiency.\r
+\r
+"I am very glad to hear such a good account of her," said Lady\r
+Catherine; "and pray tell her from me, that she cannot expect to excel\r
+if she does not practice a good deal."\r
+\r
+"I assure you, madam," he replied, "that she does not need such advice.\r
+She practises very constantly."\r
+\r
+"So much the better. It cannot be done too much; and when I next write\r
+to her, I shall charge her not to neglect it on any account. I often\r
+tell young ladies that no excellence in music is to be acquired without\r
+constant practice. I have told Miss Bennet several times, that she\r
+will never play really well unless she practises more; and though Mrs.\r
+Collins has no instrument, she is very welcome, as I have often told\r
+her, to come to Rosings every day, and play on the pianoforte in Mrs.\r
+Jenkinson's room. She would be in nobody's way, you know, in that part\r
+of the house."\r
+\r
+Mr. Darcy looked a little ashamed of his aunt's ill-breeding, and made\r
+no answer.\r
+\r
+When coffee was over, Colonel Fitzwilliam reminded Elizabeth of having\r
+promised to play to him; and she sat down directly to the instrument. He\r
+drew a chair near her. Lady Catherine listened to half a song, and then\r
+talked, as before, to her other nephew; till the latter walked away\r
+from her, and making with his usual deliberation towards the pianoforte\r
+stationed himself so as to command a full view of the fair performer's\r
+countenance. Elizabeth saw what he was doing, and at the first\r
+convenient pause, turned to him with an arch smile, and said:\r
+\r
+"You mean to frighten me, Mr. Darcy, by coming in all this state to hear\r
+me? I will not be alarmed though your sister _does_ play so well. There\r
+is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the\r
+will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate\r
+me."\r
+\r
+"I shall not say you are mistaken," he replied, "because you could not\r
+really believe me to entertain any design of alarming you; and I have\r
+had the pleasure of your acquaintance long enough to know that you find\r
+great enjoyment in occasionally professing opinions which in fact are\r
+not your own."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth laughed heartily at this picture of herself, and said to\r
+Colonel Fitzwilliam, "Your cousin will give you a very pretty notion of\r
+me, and teach you not to believe a word I say. I am particularly unlucky\r
+in meeting with a person so able to expose my real character, in a part\r
+of the world where I had hoped to pass myself off with some degree of\r
+credit. Indeed, Mr. Darcy, it is very ungenerous in you to mention all\r
+that you knew to my disadvantage in Hertfordshire--and, give me leave to\r
+say, very impolitic too--for it is provoking me to retaliate, and such\r
+things may come out as will shock your relations to hear."\r
+\r
+"I am not afraid of you," said he, smilingly.\r
+\r
+"Pray let me hear what you have to accuse him of," cried Colonel\r
+Fitzwilliam. "I should like to know how he behaves among strangers."\r
+\r
+"You shall hear then--but prepare yourself for something very dreadful.\r
+The first time of my ever seeing him in Hertfordshire, you must know,\r
+was at a ball--and at this ball, what do you think he did? He danced\r
+only four dances, though gentlemen were scarce; and, to my certain\r
+knowledge, more than one young lady was sitting down in want of a\r
+partner. Mr. Darcy, you cannot deny the fact."\r
+\r
+"I had not at that time the honour of knowing any lady in the assembly\r
+beyond my own party."\r
+\r
+"True; and nobody can ever be introduced in a ball-room. Well, Colonel\r
+Fitzwilliam, what do I play next? My fingers wait your orders."\r
+\r
+"Perhaps," said Darcy, "I should have judged better, had I sought an\r
+introduction; but I am ill-qualified to recommend myself to strangers."\r
+\r
+"Shall we ask your cousin the reason of this?" said Elizabeth, still\r
+addressing Colonel Fitzwilliam. "Shall we ask him why a man of sense and\r
+education, and who has lived in the world, is ill qualified to recommend\r
+himself to strangers?"\r
+\r
+"I can answer your question," said Fitzwilliam, "without applying to\r
+him. It is because he will not give himself the trouble."\r
+\r
+"I certainly have not the talent which some people possess," said Darcy,\r
+"of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot\r
+catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their\r
+concerns, as I often see done."\r
+\r
+"My fingers," said Elizabeth, "do not move over this instrument in the\r
+masterly manner which I see so many women's do. They have not the same\r
+force or rapidity, and do not produce the same expression. But then I\r
+have always supposed it to be my own fault--because I will not take the\r
+trouble of practising. It is not that I do not believe _my_ fingers as\r
+capable as any other woman's of superior execution."\r
+\r
+Darcy smiled and said, "You are perfectly right. You have employed your\r
+time much better. No one admitted to the privilege of hearing you can\r
+think anything wanting. We neither of us perform to strangers."\r
+\r
+Here they were interrupted by Lady Catherine, who called out to know\r
+what they were talking of. Elizabeth immediately began playing again.\r
+Lady Catherine approached, and, after listening for a few minutes, said\r
+to Darcy:\r
+\r
+"Miss Bennet would not play at all amiss if she practised more, and\r
+could have the advantage of a London master. She has a very good notion\r
+of fingering, though her taste is not equal to Anne's. Anne would have\r
+been a delightful performer, had her health allowed her to learn."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth looked at Darcy to see how cordially he assented to his\r
+cousin's praise; but neither at that moment nor at any other could she\r
+discern any symptom of love; and from the whole of his behaviour to Miss\r
+de Bourgh she derived this comfort for Miss Bingley, that he might have\r
+been just as likely to marry _her_, had she been his relation.\r
+\r
+Lady Catherine continued her remarks on Elizabeth's performance, mixing\r
+with them many instructions on execution and taste. Elizabeth received\r
+them with all the forbearance of civility, and, at the request of the\r
+gentlemen, remained at the instrument till her ladyship's carriage was\r
+ready to take them all home.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 32\r
+\r
+\r
+Elizabeth was sitting by herself the next morning, and writing to Jane\r
+while Mrs. Collins and Maria were gone on business into the village,\r
+when she was startled by a ring at the door, the certain signal of a\r
+visitor. As she had heard no carriage, she thought it not unlikely to\r
+be Lady Catherine, and under that apprehension was putting away her\r
+half-finished letter that she might escape all impertinent questions,\r
+when the door opened, and, to her very great surprise, Mr. Darcy, and\r
+Mr. Darcy only, entered the room.\r
+\r
+He seemed astonished too on finding her alone, and apologised for his\r
+intrusion by letting her know that he had understood all the ladies were\r
+to be within.\r
+\r
+They then sat down, and when her inquiries after Rosings were made,\r
+seemed in danger of sinking into total silence. It was absolutely\r
+necessary, therefore, to think of something, and in this emergence\r
+recollecting _when_ she had seen him last in Hertfordshire, and\r
+feeling curious to know what he would say on the subject of their hasty\r
+departure, she observed:\r
+\r
+"How very suddenly you all quitted Netherfield last November, Mr. Darcy!\r
+It must have been a most agreeable surprise to Mr. Bingley to see you\r
+all after him so soon; for, if I recollect right, he went but the day\r
+before. He and his sisters were well, I hope, when you left London?"\r
+\r
+"Perfectly so, I thank you."\r
+\r
+She found that she was to receive no other answer, and, after a short\r
+pause added:\r
+\r
+"I think I have understood that Mr. Bingley has not much idea of ever\r
+returning to Netherfield again?"\r
+\r
+"I have never heard him say so; but it is probable that he may spend\r
+very little of his time there in the future. He has many friends, and\r
+is at a time of life when friends and engagements are continually\r
+increasing."\r
+\r
+"If he means to be but little at Netherfield, it would be better for\r
+the neighbourhood that he should give up the place entirely, for then we\r
+might possibly get a settled family there. But, perhaps, Mr. Bingley did\r
+not take the house so much for the convenience of the neighbourhood as\r
+for his own, and we must expect him to keep it or quit it on the same\r
+principle."\r
+\r
+"I should not be surprised," said Darcy, "if he were to give it up as\r
+soon as any eligible purchase offers."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth made no answer. She was afraid of talking longer of his\r
+friend; and, having nothing else to say, was now determined to leave the\r
+trouble of finding a subject to him.\r
+\r
+He took the hint, and soon began with, "This seems a very comfortable\r
+house. Lady Catherine, I believe, did a great deal to it when Mr.\r
+Collins first came to Hunsford."\r
+\r
+"I believe she did--and I am sure she could not have bestowed her\r
+kindness on a more grateful object."\r
+\r
+"Mr. Collins appears to be very fortunate in his choice of a wife."\r
+\r
+"Yes, indeed, his friends may well rejoice in his having met with one\r
+of the very few sensible women who would have accepted him, or have made\r
+him happy if they had. My friend has an excellent understanding--though\r
+I am not certain that I consider her marrying Mr. Collins as the\r
+wisest thing she ever did. She seems perfectly happy, however, and in a\r
+prudential light it is certainly a very good match for her."\r
+\r
+"It must be very agreeable for her to be settled within so easy a\r
+distance of her own family and friends."\r
+\r
+"An easy distance, do you call it? It is nearly fifty miles."\r
+\r
+"And what is fifty miles of good road? Little more than half a day's\r
+journey. Yes, I call it a _very_ easy distance."\r
+\r
+"I should never have considered the distance as one of the _advantages_\r
+of the match," cried Elizabeth. "I should never have said Mrs. Collins\r
+was settled _near_ her family."\r
+\r
+"It is a proof of your own attachment to Hertfordshire. Anything beyond\r
+the very neighbourhood of Longbourn, I suppose, would appear far."\r
+\r
+As he spoke there was a sort of smile which Elizabeth fancied she\r
+understood; he must be supposing her to be thinking of Jane and\r
+Netherfield, and she blushed as she answered:\r
+\r
+"I do not mean to say that a woman may not be settled too near her\r
+family. The far and the near must be relative, and depend on many\r
+varying circumstances. Where there is fortune to make the expenses of\r
+travelling unimportant, distance becomes no evil. But that is not the\r
+case _here_. Mr. and Mrs. Collins have a comfortable income, but not\r
+such a one as will allow of frequent journeys--and I am persuaded my\r
+friend would not call herself _near_ her family under less than _half_\r
+the present distance."\r
+\r
+Mr. Darcy drew his chair a little towards her, and said, "_You_ cannot\r
+have a right to such very strong local attachment. _You_ cannot have\r
+been always at Longbourn."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth looked surprised. The gentleman experienced some change of\r
+feeling; he drew back his chair, took a newspaper from the table, and\r
+glancing over it, said, in a colder voice:\r
+\r
+"Are you pleased with Kent?"\r
+\r
+A short dialogue on the subject of the country ensued, on either side\r
+calm and concise--and soon put an end to by the entrance of Charlotte\r
+and her sister, just returned from her walk. The tete-a-tete surprised\r
+them. Mr. Darcy related the mistake which had occasioned his intruding\r
+on Miss Bennet, and after sitting a few minutes longer without saying\r
+much to anybody, went away.\r
+\r
+"What can be the meaning of this?" said Charlotte, as soon as he was\r
+gone. "My dear, Eliza, he must be in love with you, or he would never\r
+have called us in this familiar way."\r
+\r
+But when Elizabeth told of his silence, it did not seem very likely,\r
+even to Charlotte's wishes, to be the case; and after various\r
+conjectures, they could at last only suppose his visit to proceed from\r
+the difficulty of finding anything to do, which was the more probable\r
+from the time of year. All field sports were over. Within doors there\r
+was Lady Catherine, books, and a billiard-table, but gentlemen cannot\r
+always be within doors; and in the nearness of the Parsonage, or the\r
+pleasantness of the walk to it, or of the people who lived in it, the\r
+two cousins found a temptation from this period of walking thither\r
+almost every day. They called at various times of the morning, sometimes\r
+separately, sometimes together, and now and then accompanied by their\r
+aunt. It was plain to them all that Colonel Fitzwilliam came because he\r
+had pleasure in their society, a persuasion which of course recommended\r
+him still more; and Elizabeth was reminded by her own satisfaction in\r
+being with him, as well as by his evident admiration of her, of her\r
+former favourite George Wickham; and though, in comparing them, she saw\r
+there was less captivating softness in Colonel Fitzwilliam's manners,\r
+she believed he might have the best informed mind.\r
+\r
+But why Mr. Darcy came so often to the Parsonage, it was more difficult\r
+to understand. It could not be for society, as he frequently sat there\r
+ten minutes together without opening his lips; and when he did speak,\r
+it seemed the effect of necessity rather than of choice--a sacrifice\r
+to propriety, not a pleasure to himself. He seldom appeared really\r
+animated. Mrs. Collins knew not what to make of him. Colonel\r
+Fitzwilliam's occasionally laughing at his stupidity, proved that he was\r
+generally different, which her own knowledge of him could not have told\r
+her; and as she would liked to have believed this change the effect\r
+of love, and the object of that love her friend Eliza, she set herself\r
+seriously to work to find it out. She watched him whenever they were at\r
+Rosings, and whenever he came to Hunsford; but without much success. He\r
+certainly looked at her friend a great deal, but the expression of that\r
+look was disputable. It was an earnest, steadfast gaze, but she often\r
+doubted whether there were much admiration in it, and sometimes it\r
+seemed nothing but absence of mind.\r
+\r
+She had once or twice suggested to Elizabeth the possibility of his\r
+being partial to her, but Elizabeth always laughed at the idea; and Mrs.\r
+Collins did not think it right to press the subject, from the danger of\r
+raising expectations which might only end in disappointment; for in her\r
+opinion it admitted not of a doubt, that all her friend's dislike would\r
+vanish, if she could suppose him to be in her power.\r
+\r
+\r
+In her kind schemes for Elizabeth, she sometimes planned her marrying\r
+Colonel Fitzwilliam. He was beyond comparison the most pleasant man; he\r
+certainly admired her, and his situation in life was most eligible; but,\r
+to counterbalance these advantages, Mr. Darcy had considerable patronage\r
+in the church, and his cousin could have none at all.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 33\r
+\r
+\r
+More than once did Elizabeth, in her ramble within the park,\r
+unexpectedly meet Mr. Darcy. She felt all the perverseness of the\r
+mischance that should bring him where no one else was brought, and, to\r
+prevent its ever happening again, took care to inform him at first that\r
+it was a favourite haunt of hers. How it could occur a second time,\r
+therefore, was very odd! Yet it did, and even a third. It seemed like\r
+wilful ill-nature, or a voluntary penance, for on these occasions it was\r
+not merely a few formal inquiries and an awkward pause and then away,\r
+but he actually thought it necessary to turn back and walk with her. He\r
+never said a great deal, nor did she give herself the trouble of talking\r
+or of listening much; but it struck her in the course of their third\r
+rencontre that he was asking some odd unconnected questions--about\r
+her pleasure in being at Hunsford, her love of solitary walks, and her\r
+opinion of Mr. and Mrs. Collins's happiness; and that in speaking of\r
+Rosings and her not perfectly understanding the house, he seemed to\r
+expect that whenever she came into Kent again she would be staying\r
+_there_ too. His words seemed to imply it. Could he have Colonel\r
+Fitzwilliam in his thoughts? She supposed, if he meant anything, he must\r
+mean an allusion to what might arise in that quarter. It distressed\r
+her a little, and she was quite glad to find herself at the gate in the\r
+pales opposite the Parsonage.\r
+\r
+She was engaged one day as she walked, in perusing Jane's last letter,\r
+and dwelling on some passages which proved that Jane had not written in\r
+spirits, when, instead of being again surprised by Mr. Darcy, she saw\r
+on looking up that Colonel Fitzwilliam was meeting her. Putting away the\r
+letter immediately and forcing a smile, she said:\r
+\r
+"I did not know before that you ever walked this way."\r
+\r
+"I have been making the tour of the park," he replied, "as I generally\r
+do every year, and intend to close it with a call at the Parsonage. Are\r
+you going much farther?"\r
+\r
+"No, I should have turned in a moment."\r
+\r
+And accordingly she did turn, and they walked towards the Parsonage\r
+together.\r
+\r
+"Do you certainly leave Kent on Saturday?" said she.\r
+\r
+"Yes--if Darcy does not put it off again. But I am at his disposal. He\r
+arranges the business just as he pleases."\r
+\r
+"And if not able to please himself in the arrangement, he has at least\r
+pleasure in the great power of choice. I do not know anybody who seems\r
+more to enjoy the power of doing what he likes than Mr. Darcy."\r
+\r
+"He likes to have his own way very well," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam.\r
+"But so we all do. It is only that he has better means of having it\r
+than many others, because he is rich, and many others are poor. I speak\r
+feelingly. A younger son, you know, must be inured to self-denial and\r
+dependence."\r
+\r
+"In my opinion, the younger son of an earl can know very little of\r
+either. Now seriously, what have you ever known of self-denial and\r
+dependence? When have you been prevented by want of money from going\r
+wherever you chose, or procuring anything you had a fancy for?"\r
+\r
+"These are home questions--and perhaps I cannot say that I have\r
+experienced many hardships of that nature. But in matters of greater\r
+weight, I may suffer from want of money. Younger sons cannot marry where\r
+they like."\r
+\r
+"Unless where they like women of fortune, which I think they very often\r
+do."\r
+\r
+"Our habits of expense make us too dependent, and there are not many\r
+in my rank of life who can afford to marry without some attention to\r
+money."\r
+\r
+"Is this," thought Elizabeth, "meant for me?" and she coloured at the\r
+idea; but, recovering herself, said in a lively tone, "And pray, what\r
+is the usual price of an earl's younger son? Unless the elder brother is\r
+very sickly, I suppose you would not ask above fifty thousand pounds."\r
+\r
+He answered her in the same style, and the subject dropped. To interrupt\r
+a silence which might make him fancy her affected with what had passed,\r
+she soon afterwards said:\r
+\r
+"I imagine your cousin brought you down with him chiefly for the sake of\r
+having someone at his disposal. I wonder he does not marry, to secure a\r
+lasting convenience of that kind. But, perhaps, his sister does as well\r
+for the present, and, as she is under his sole care, he may do what he\r
+likes with her."\r
+\r
+"No," said Colonel Fitzwilliam, "that is an advantage which he must\r
+divide with me. I am joined with him in the guardianship of Miss Darcy."\r
+\r
+"Are you indeed? And pray what sort of guardians do you make? Does your\r
+charge give you much trouble? Young ladies of her age are sometimes a\r
+little difficult to manage, and if she has the true Darcy spirit, she\r
+may like to have her own way."\r
+\r
+As she spoke she observed him looking at her earnestly; and the manner\r
+in which he immediately asked her why she supposed Miss Darcy likely to\r
+give them any uneasiness, convinced her that she had somehow or other\r
+got pretty near the truth. She directly replied:\r
+\r
+"You need not be frightened. I never heard any harm of her; and I dare\r
+say she is one of the most tractable creatures in the world. She is a\r
+very great favourite with some ladies of my acquaintance, Mrs. Hurst and\r
+Miss Bingley. I think I have heard you say that you know them."\r
+\r
+"I know them a little. Their brother is a pleasant gentlemanlike man--he\r
+is a great friend of Darcy's."\r
+\r
+"Oh! yes," said Elizabeth drily; "Mr. Darcy is uncommonly kind to Mr.\r
+Bingley, and takes a prodigious deal of care of him."\r
+\r
+"Care of him! Yes, I really believe Darcy _does_ take care of him in\r
+those points where he most wants care. From something that he told me in\r
+our journey hither, I have reason to think Bingley very much indebted to\r
+him. But I ought to beg his pardon, for I have no right to suppose that\r
+Bingley was the person meant. It was all conjecture."\r
+\r
+"What is it you mean?"\r
+\r
+"It is a circumstance which Darcy could not wish to be generally known,\r
+because if it were to get round to the lady's family, it would be an\r
+unpleasant thing."\r
+\r
+"You may depend upon my not mentioning it."\r
+\r
+"And remember that I have not much reason for supposing it to be\r
+Bingley. What he told me was merely this: that he congratulated himself\r
+on having lately saved a friend from the inconveniences of a most\r
+imprudent marriage, but without mentioning names or any other\r
+particulars, and I only suspected it to be Bingley from believing\r
+him the kind of young man to get into a scrape of that sort, and from\r
+knowing them to have been together the whole of last summer."\r
+\r
+"Did Mr. Darcy give you reasons for this interference?"\r
+\r
+"I understood that there were some very strong objections against the\r
+lady."\r
+\r
+"And what arts did he use to separate them?"\r
+\r
+"He did not talk to me of his own arts," said Fitzwilliam, smiling. "He\r
+only told me what I have now told you."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth made no answer, and walked on, her heart swelling with\r
+indignation. After watching her a little, Fitzwilliam asked her why she\r
+was so thoughtful.\r
+\r
+"I am thinking of what you have been telling me," said she. "Your\r
+cousin's conduct does not suit my feelings. Why was he to be the judge?"\r
+\r
+"You are rather disposed to call his interference officious?"\r
+\r
+"I do not see what right Mr. Darcy had to decide on the propriety of his\r
+friend's inclination, or why, upon his own judgement alone, he was to\r
+determine and direct in what manner his friend was to be happy.\r
+But," she continued, recollecting herself, "as we know none of the\r
+particulars, it is not fair to condemn him. It is not to be supposed\r
+that there was much affection in the case."\r
+\r
+"That is not an unnatural surmise," said Fitzwilliam, "but it is a\r
+lessening of the honour of my cousin's triumph very sadly."\r
+\r
+This was spoken jestingly; but it appeared to her so just a picture\r
+of Mr. Darcy, that she would not trust herself with an answer, and\r
+therefore, abruptly changing the conversation talked on indifferent\r
+matters until they reached the Parsonage. There, shut into her own room,\r
+as soon as their visitor left them, she could think without interruption\r
+of all that she had heard. It was not to be supposed that any other\r
+people could be meant than those with whom she was connected. There\r
+could not exist in the world _two_ men over whom Mr. Darcy could have\r
+such boundless influence. That he had been concerned in the measures\r
+taken to separate Bingley and Jane she had never doubted; but she had\r
+always attributed to Miss Bingley the principal design and arrangement\r
+of them. If his own vanity, however, did not mislead him, _he_ was\r
+the cause, his pride and caprice were the cause, of all that Jane had\r
+suffered, and still continued to suffer. He had ruined for a while\r
+every hope of happiness for the most affectionate, generous heart in the\r
+world; and no one could say how lasting an evil he might have inflicted.\r
+\r
+"There were some very strong objections against the lady," were Colonel\r
+Fitzwilliam's words; and those strong objections probably were, her\r
+having one uncle who was a country attorney, and another who was in\r
+business in London.\r
+\r
+"To Jane herself," she exclaimed, "there could be no possibility of\r
+objection; all loveliness and goodness as she is!--her understanding\r
+excellent, her mind improved, and her manners captivating. Neither\r
+could anything be urged against my father, who, though with some\r
+peculiarities, has abilities Mr. Darcy himself need not disdain, and\r
+respectability which he will probably never reach." When she thought of\r
+her mother, her confidence gave way a little; but she would not allow\r
+that any objections _there_ had material weight with Mr. Darcy, whose\r
+pride, she was convinced, would receive a deeper wound from the want of\r
+importance in his friend's connections, than from their want of sense;\r
+and she was quite decided, at last, that he had been partly governed\r
+by this worst kind of pride, and partly by the wish of retaining Mr.\r
+Bingley for his sister.\r
+\r
+The agitation and tears which the subject occasioned, brought on a\r
+headache; and it grew so much worse towards the evening, that, added to\r
+her unwillingness to see Mr. Darcy, it determined her not to attend her\r
+cousins to Rosings, where they were engaged to drink tea. Mrs. Collins,\r
+seeing that she was really unwell, did not press her to go and as much\r
+as possible prevented her husband from pressing her; but Mr. Collins\r
+could not conceal his apprehension of Lady Catherine's being rather\r
+displeased by her staying at home.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 34\r
+\r
+\r
+When they were gone, Elizabeth, as if intending to exasperate herself\r
+as much as possible against Mr. Darcy, chose for her employment the\r
+examination of all the letters which Jane had written to her since her\r
+being in Kent. They contained no actual complaint, nor was there any\r
+revival of past occurrences, or any communication of present suffering.\r
+But in all, and in almost every line of each, there was a want of that\r
+cheerfulness which had been used to characterise her style, and which,\r
+proceeding from the serenity of a mind at ease with itself and kindly\r
+disposed towards everyone, had been scarcely ever clouded. Elizabeth\r
+noticed every sentence conveying the idea of uneasiness, with an\r
+attention which it had hardly received on the first perusal. Mr. Darcy's\r
+shameful boast of what misery he had been able to inflict, gave her\r
+a keener sense of her sister's sufferings. It was some consolation\r
+to think that his visit to Rosings was to end on the day after the\r
+next--and, a still greater, that in less than a fortnight she should\r
+herself be with Jane again, and enabled to contribute to the recovery of\r
+her spirits, by all that affection could do.\r
+\r
+She could not think of Darcy's leaving Kent without remembering that\r
+his cousin was to go with him; but Colonel Fitzwilliam had made it clear\r
+that he had no intentions at all, and agreeable as he was, she did not\r
+mean to be unhappy about him.\r
+\r
+While settling this point, she was suddenly roused by the sound of the\r
+door-bell, and her spirits were a little fluttered by the idea of its\r
+being Colonel Fitzwilliam himself, who had once before called late in\r
+the evening, and might now come to inquire particularly after her.\r
+But this idea was soon banished, and her spirits were very differently\r
+affected, when, to her utter amazement, she saw Mr. Darcy walk into the\r
+room. In an hurried manner he immediately began an inquiry after her\r
+health, imputing his visit to a wish of hearing that she were better.\r
+She answered him with cold civility. He sat down for a few moments, and\r
+then getting up, walked about the room. Elizabeth was surprised, but\r
+said not a word. After a silence of several minutes, he came towards her\r
+in an agitated manner, and thus began:\r
+\r
+"In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be\r
+repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love\r
+you."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth's astonishment was beyond expression. She stared, coloured,\r
+doubted, and was silent. This he considered sufficient encouragement;\r
+and the avowal of all that he felt, and had long felt for her,\r
+immediately followed. He spoke well; but there were feelings besides\r
+those of the heart to be detailed; and he was not more eloquent on the\r
+subject of tenderness than of pride. His sense of her inferiority--of\r
+its being a degradation--of the family obstacles which had always\r
+opposed to inclination, were dwelt on with a warmth which seemed due to\r
+the consequence he was wounding, but was very unlikely to recommend his\r
+suit.\r
+\r
+In spite of her deeply-rooted dislike, she could not be insensible to\r
+the compliment of such a man's affection, and though her intentions did\r
+not vary for an instant, she was at first sorry for the pain he was to\r
+receive; till, roused to resentment by his subsequent language, she\r
+lost all compassion in anger. She tried, however, to compose herself to\r
+answer him with patience, when he should have done. He concluded with\r
+representing to her the strength of that attachment which, in spite\r
+of all his endeavours, he had found impossible to conquer; and with\r
+expressing his hope that it would now be rewarded by her acceptance of\r
+his hand. As he said this, she could easily see that he had no doubt\r
+of a favourable answer. He _spoke_ of apprehension and anxiety, but\r
+his countenance expressed real security. Such a circumstance could\r
+only exasperate farther, and, when he ceased, the colour rose into her\r
+cheeks, and she said:\r
+\r
+"In such cases as this, it is, I believe, the established mode to\r
+express a sense of obligation for the sentiments avowed, however\r
+unequally they may be returned. It is natural that obligation should\r
+be felt, and if I could _feel_ gratitude, I would now thank you. But I\r
+cannot--I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly\r
+bestowed it most unwillingly. I am sorry to have occasioned pain to\r
+anyone. It has been most unconsciously done, however, and I hope will be\r
+of short duration. The feelings which, you tell me, have long prevented\r
+the acknowledgment of your regard, can have little difficulty in\r
+overcoming it after this explanation."\r
+\r
+Mr. Darcy, who was leaning against the mantelpiece with his eyes fixed\r
+on her face, seemed to catch her words with no less resentment than\r
+surprise. His complexion became pale with anger, and the disturbance\r
+of his mind was visible in every feature. He was struggling for the\r
+appearance of composure, and would not open his lips till he believed\r
+himself to have attained it. The pause was to Elizabeth's feelings\r
+dreadful. At length, with a voice of forced calmness, he said:\r
+\r
+"And this is all the reply which I am to have the honour of expecting!\r
+I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little _endeavour_ at\r
+civility, I am thus rejected. But it is of small importance."\r
+\r
+"I might as well inquire," replied she, "why with so evident a desire\r
+of offending and insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me\r
+against your will, against your reason, and even against your character?\r
+Was not this some excuse for incivility, if I _was_ uncivil? But I have\r
+other provocations. You know I have. Had not my feelings decided against\r
+you--had they been indifferent, or had they even been favourable, do you\r
+think that any consideration would tempt me to accept the man who has\r
+been the means of ruining, perhaps for ever, the happiness of a most\r
+beloved sister?"\r
+\r
+As she pronounced these words, Mr. Darcy changed colour; but the emotion\r
+was short, and he listened without attempting to interrupt her while she\r
+continued:\r
+\r
+"I have every reason in the world to think ill of you. No motive can\r
+excuse the unjust and ungenerous part you acted _there_. You dare not,\r
+you cannot deny, that you have been the principal, if not the only means\r
+of dividing them from each other--of exposing one to the censure of the\r
+world for caprice and instability, and the other to its derision for\r
+disappointed hopes, and involving them both in misery of the acutest\r
+kind."\r
+\r
+She paused, and saw with no slight indignation that he was listening\r
+with an air which proved him wholly unmoved by any feeling of remorse.\r
+He even looked at her with a smile of affected incredulity.\r
+\r
+"Can you deny that you have done it?" she repeated.\r
+\r
+With assumed tranquillity he then replied: "I have no wish of denying\r
+that I did everything in my power to separate my friend from your\r
+sister, or that I rejoice in my success. Towards _him_ I have been\r
+kinder than towards myself."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth disdained the appearance of noticing this civil reflection,\r
+but its meaning did not escape, nor was it likely to conciliate her.\r
+\r
+"But it is not merely this affair," she continued, "on which my dislike\r
+is founded. Long before it had taken place my opinion of you was\r
+decided. Your character was unfolded in the recital which I received\r
+many months ago from Mr. Wickham. On this subject, what can you have to\r
+say? In what imaginary act of friendship can you here defend yourself?\r
+or under what misrepresentation can you here impose upon others?"\r
+\r
+"You take an eager interest in that gentleman's concerns," said Darcy,\r
+in a less tranquil tone, and with a heightened colour.\r
+\r
+"Who that knows what his misfortunes have been, can help feeling an\r
+interest in him?"\r
+\r
+"His misfortunes!" repeated Darcy contemptuously; "yes, his misfortunes\r
+have been great indeed."\r
+\r
+"And of your infliction," cried Elizabeth with energy. "You have reduced\r
+him to his present state of poverty--comparative poverty. You have\r
+withheld the advantages which you must know to have been designed for\r
+him. You have deprived the best years of his life of that independence\r
+which was no less his due than his desert. You have done all this!\r
+and yet you can treat the mention of his misfortune with contempt and\r
+ridicule."\r
+\r
+"And this," cried Darcy, as he walked with quick steps across the room,\r
+"is your opinion of me! This is the estimation in which you hold me!\r
+I thank you for explaining it so fully. My faults, according to this\r
+calculation, are heavy indeed! But perhaps," added he, stopping in\r
+his walk, and turning towards her, "these offenses might have been\r
+overlooked, had not your pride been hurt by my honest confession of the\r
+scruples that had long prevented my forming any serious design. These\r
+bitter accusations might have been suppressed, had I, with greater\r
+policy, concealed my struggles, and flattered you into the belief of\r
+my being impelled by unqualified, unalloyed inclination; by reason, by\r
+reflection, by everything. But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence.\r
+Nor am I ashamed of the feelings I related. They were natural and\r
+just. Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your\r
+connections?--to congratulate myself on the hope of relations, whose\r
+condition in life is so decidedly beneath my own?"\r
+\r
+Elizabeth felt herself growing more angry every moment; yet she tried to\r
+the utmost to speak with composure when she said:\r
+\r
+"You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your\r
+declaration affected me in any other way, than as it spared me the concern\r
+which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more\r
+gentlemanlike manner."\r
+\r
+She saw him start at this, but he said nothing, and she continued:\r
+\r
+"You could not have made the offer of your hand in any possible way that\r
+would have tempted me to accept it."\r
+\r
+Again his astonishment was obvious; and he looked at her with an\r
+expression of mingled incredulity and mortification. She went on:\r
+\r
+"From the very beginning--from the first moment, I may almost say--of\r
+my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressing me with the fullest\r
+belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of\r
+the feelings of others, were such as to form the groundwork of\r
+disapprobation on which succeeding events have built so immovable a\r
+dislike; and I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the\r
+last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry."\r
+\r
+"You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your\r
+feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been.\r
+Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best\r
+wishes for your health and happiness."\r
+\r
+And with these words he hastily left the room, and Elizabeth heard him\r
+the next moment open the front door and quit the house.\r
+\r
+The tumult of her mind, was now painfully great. She knew not how\r
+to support herself, and from actual weakness sat down and cried for\r
+half-an-hour. Her astonishment, as she reflected on what had passed,\r
+was increased by every review of it. That she should receive an offer of\r
+marriage from Mr. Darcy! That he should have been in love with her for\r
+so many months! So much in love as to wish to marry her in spite of\r
+all the objections which had made him prevent his friend's marrying\r
+her sister, and which must appear at least with equal force in his\r
+own case--was almost incredible! It was gratifying to have inspired\r
+unconsciously so strong an affection. But his pride, his abominable\r
+pride--his shameless avowal of what he had done with respect to\r
+Jane--his unpardonable assurance in acknowledging, though he could\r
+not justify it, and the unfeeling manner in which he had mentioned Mr.\r
+Wickham, his cruelty towards whom he had not attempted to deny, soon\r
+overcame the pity which the consideration of his attachment had for\r
+a moment excited. She continued in very agitated reflections till the\r
+sound of Lady Catherine's carriage made her feel how unequal she was to\r
+encounter Charlotte's observation, and hurried her away to her room.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 35\r
+\r
+\r
+Elizabeth awoke the next morning to the same thoughts and meditations\r
+which had at length closed her eyes. She could not yet recover from the\r
+surprise of what had happened; it was impossible to think of anything\r
+else; and, totally indisposed for employment, she resolved, soon after\r
+breakfast, to indulge herself in air and exercise. She was proceeding\r
+directly to her favourite walk, when the recollection of Mr. Darcy's\r
+sometimes coming there stopped her, and instead of entering the park,\r
+she turned up the lane, which led farther from the turnpike-road. The\r
+park paling was still the boundary on one side, and she soon passed one\r
+of the gates into the ground.\r
+\r
+After walking two or three times along that part of the lane, she was\r
+tempted, by the pleasantness of the morning, to stop at the gates and\r
+look into the park. The five weeks which she had now passed in Kent had\r
+made a great difference in the country, and every day was adding to the\r
+verdure of the early trees. She was on the point of continuing her walk,\r
+when she caught a glimpse of a gentleman within the sort of grove which\r
+edged the park; he was moving that way; and, fearful of its being Mr.\r
+Darcy, she was directly retreating. But the person who advanced was now\r
+near enough to see her, and stepping forward with eagerness, pronounced\r
+her name. She had turned away; but on hearing herself called, though\r
+in a voice which proved it to be Mr. Darcy, she moved again towards the\r
+gate. He had by that time reached it also, and, holding out a letter,\r
+which she instinctively took, said, with a look of haughty composure,\r
+"I have been walking in the grove some time in the hope of meeting you.\r
+Will you do me the honour of reading that letter?" And then, with a\r
+slight bow, turned again into the plantation, and was soon out of sight.\r
+\r
+With no expectation of pleasure, but with the strongest curiosity,\r
+Elizabeth opened the letter, and, to her still increasing wonder,\r
+perceived an envelope containing two sheets of letter-paper, written\r
+quite through, in a very close hand. The envelope itself was likewise\r
+full. Pursuing her way along the lane, she then began it. It was dated\r
+from Rosings, at eight o'clock in the morning, and was as follows:--\r
+\r
+"Be not alarmed, madam, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension\r
+of its containing any repetition of those sentiments or renewal of those\r
+offers which were last night so disgusting to you. I write without any\r
+intention of paining you, or humbling myself, by dwelling on wishes\r
+which, for the happiness of both, cannot be too soon forgotten; and the\r
+effort which the formation and the perusal of this letter must occasion,\r
+should have been spared, had not my character required it to be written\r
+and read. You must, therefore, pardon the freedom with which I demand\r
+your attention; your feelings, I know, will bestow it unwillingly, but I\r
+demand it of your justice.\r
+\r
+"Two offenses of a very different nature, and by no means of equal\r
+magnitude, you last night laid to my charge. The first mentioned was,\r
+that, regardless of the sentiments of either, I had detached Mr. Bingley\r
+from your sister, and the other, that I had, in defiance of various\r
+claims, in defiance of honour and humanity, ruined the immediate\r
+prosperity and blasted the prospects of Mr. Wickham. Wilfully and\r
+wantonly to have thrown off the companion of my youth, the acknowledged\r
+favourite of my father, a young man who had scarcely any other\r
+dependence than on our patronage, and who had been brought up to expect\r
+its exertion, would be a depravity, to which the separation of two young\r
+persons, whose affection could be the growth of only a few weeks, could\r
+bear no comparison. But from the severity of that blame which was last\r
+night so liberally bestowed, respecting each circumstance, I shall hope\r
+to be in the future secured, when the following account of my actions\r
+and their motives has been read. If, in the explanation of them, which\r
+is due to myself, I am under the necessity of relating feelings which\r
+may be offensive to yours, I can only say that I am sorry. The necessity\r
+must be obeyed, and further apology would be absurd.\r
+\r
+"I had not been long in Hertfordshire, before I saw, in common with\r
+others, that Bingley preferred your elder sister to any other young\r
+woman in the country. But it was not till the evening of the dance\r
+at Netherfield that I had any apprehension of his feeling a serious\r
+attachment. I had often seen him in love before. At that ball, while I\r
+had the honour of dancing with you, I was first made acquainted, by Sir\r
+William Lucas's accidental information, that Bingley's attentions to\r
+your sister had given rise to a general expectation of their marriage.\r
+He spoke of it as a certain event, of which the time alone could\r
+be undecided. From that moment I observed my friend's behaviour\r
+attentively; and I could then perceive that his partiality for Miss\r
+Bennet was beyond what I had ever witnessed in him. Your sister I also\r
+watched. Her look and manners were open, cheerful, and engaging as ever,\r
+but without any symptom of peculiar regard, and I remained convinced\r
+from the evening's scrutiny, that though she received his attentions\r
+with pleasure, she did not invite them by any participation of\r
+sentiment. If _you_ have not been mistaken here, _I_ must have been\r
+in error. Your superior knowledge of your sister must make the latter\r
+probable. If it be so, if I have been misled by such error to inflict\r
+pain on her, your resentment has not been unreasonable. But I shall not\r
+scruple to assert, that the serenity of your sister's countenance and\r
+air was such as might have given the most acute observer a conviction\r
+that, however amiable her temper, her heart was not likely to be\r
+easily touched. That I was desirous of believing her indifferent is\r
+certain--but I will venture to say that my investigation and decisions\r
+are not usually influenced by my hopes or fears. I did not believe\r
+her to be indifferent because I wished it; I believed it on impartial\r
+conviction, as truly as I wished it in reason. My objections to the\r
+marriage were not merely those which I last night acknowledged to have\r
+the utmost force of passion to put aside, in my own case; the want of\r
+connection could not be so great an evil to my friend as to me. But\r
+there were other causes of repugnance; causes which, though still\r
+existing, and existing to an equal degree in both instances, I had\r
+myself endeavoured to forget, because they were not immediately before\r
+me. These causes must be stated, though briefly. The situation of your\r
+mother's family, though objectionable, was nothing in comparison to that\r
+total want of propriety so frequently, so almost uniformly betrayed by\r
+herself, by your three younger sisters, and occasionally even by your\r
+father. Pardon me. It pains me to offend you. But amidst your concern\r
+for the defects of your nearest relations, and your displeasure at this\r
+representation of them, let it give you consolation to consider that, to\r
+have conducted yourselves so as to avoid any share of the like censure,\r
+is praise no less generally bestowed on you and your elder sister, than\r
+it is honourable to the sense and disposition of both. I will only say\r
+farther that from what passed that evening, my opinion of all parties\r
+was confirmed, and every inducement heightened which could have led\r
+me before, to preserve my friend from what I esteemed a most unhappy\r
+connection. He left Netherfield for London, on the day following, as\r
+you, I am certain, remember, with the design of soon returning.\r
+\r
+"The part which I acted is now to be explained. His sisters' uneasiness\r
+had been equally excited with my own; our coincidence of feeling was\r
+soon discovered, and, alike sensible that no time was to be lost in\r
+detaching their brother, we shortly resolved on joining him directly in\r
+London. We accordingly went--and there I readily engaged in the office\r
+of pointing out to my friend the certain evils of such a choice. I\r
+described, and enforced them earnestly. But, however this remonstrance\r
+might have staggered or delayed his determination, I do not suppose\r
+that it would ultimately have prevented the marriage, had it not been\r
+seconded by the assurance that I hesitated not in giving, of your\r
+sister's indifference. He had before believed her to return his\r
+affection with sincere, if not with equal regard. But Bingley has great\r
+natural modesty, with a stronger dependence on my judgement than on his\r
+own. To convince him, therefore, that he had deceived himself, was\r
+no very difficult point. To persuade him against returning into\r
+Hertfordshire, when that conviction had been given, was scarcely the\r
+work of a moment. I cannot blame myself for having done thus much. There\r
+is but one part of my conduct in the whole affair on which I do not\r
+reflect with satisfaction; it is that I condescended to adopt the\r
+measures of art so far as to conceal from him your sister's being in\r
+town. I knew it myself, as it was known to Miss Bingley; but her\r
+brother is even yet ignorant of it. That they might have met without\r
+ill consequence is perhaps probable; but his regard did not appear to me\r
+enough extinguished for him to see her without some danger. Perhaps this\r
+concealment, this disguise was beneath me; it is done, however, and it\r
+was done for the best. On this subject I have nothing more to say, no\r
+other apology to offer. If I have wounded your sister's feelings, it\r
+was unknowingly done and though the motives which governed me may to\r
+you very naturally appear insufficient, I have not yet learnt to condemn\r
+them.\r
+\r
+"With respect to that other, more weighty accusation, of having injured\r
+Mr. Wickham, I can only refute it by laying before you the whole of his\r
+connection with my family. Of what he has _particularly_ accused me I\r
+am ignorant; but of the truth of what I shall relate, I can summon more\r
+than one witness of undoubted veracity.\r
+\r
+"Mr. Wickham is the son of a very respectable man, who had for many\r
+years the management of all the Pemberley estates, and whose good\r
+conduct in the discharge of his trust naturally inclined my father to\r
+be of service to him; and on George Wickham, who was his godson, his\r
+kindness was therefore liberally bestowed. My father supported him at\r
+school, and afterwards at Cambridge--most important assistance, as his\r
+own father, always poor from the extravagance of his wife, would have\r
+been unable to give him a gentleman's education. My father was not only\r
+fond of this young man's society, whose manners were always engaging; he\r
+had also the highest opinion of him, and hoping the church would be\r
+his profession, intended to provide for him in it. As for myself, it is\r
+many, many years since I first began to think of him in a very different\r
+manner. The vicious propensities--the want of principle, which he was\r
+careful to guard from the knowledge of his best friend, could not escape\r
+the observation of a young man of nearly the same age with himself,\r
+and who had opportunities of seeing him in unguarded moments, which Mr.\r
+Darcy could not have. Here again I shall give you pain--to what degree\r
+you only can tell. But whatever may be the sentiments which Mr. Wickham\r
+has created, a suspicion of their nature shall not prevent me from\r
+unfolding his real character--it adds even another motive.\r
+\r
+"My excellent father died about five years ago; and his attachment to\r
+Mr. Wickham was to the last so steady, that in his will he particularly\r
+recommended it to me, to promote his advancement in the best manner\r
+that his profession might allow--and if he took orders, desired that a\r
+valuable family living might be his as soon as it became vacant. There\r
+was also a legacy of one thousand pounds. His own father did not long\r
+survive mine, and within half a year from these events, Mr. Wickham\r
+wrote to inform me that, having finally resolved against taking orders,\r
+he hoped I should not think it unreasonable for him to expect some more\r
+immediate pecuniary advantage, in lieu of the preferment, by which he\r
+could not be benefited. He had some intention, he added, of studying\r
+law, and I must be aware that the interest of one thousand pounds would\r
+be a very insufficient support therein. I rather wished, than believed\r
+him to be sincere; but, at any rate, was perfectly ready to accede to\r
+his proposal. I knew that Mr. Wickham ought not to be a clergyman; the\r
+business was therefore soon settled--he resigned all claim to assistance\r
+in the church, were it possible that he could ever be in a situation to\r
+receive it, and accepted in return three thousand pounds. All connection\r
+between us seemed now dissolved. I thought too ill of him to invite him\r
+to Pemberley, or admit his society in town. In town I believe he chiefly\r
+lived, but his studying the law was a mere pretence, and being now free\r
+from all restraint, his life was a life of idleness and dissipation.\r
+For about three years I heard little of him; but on the decease of the\r
+incumbent of the living which had been designed for him, he applied to\r
+me again by letter for the presentation. His circumstances, he assured\r
+me, and I had no difficulty in believing it, were exceedingly bad. He\r
+had found the law a most unprofitable study, and was now absolutely\r
+resolved on being ordained, if I would present him to the living in\r
+question--of which he trusted there could be little doubt, as he was\r
+well assured that I had no other person to provide for, and I could not\r
+have forgotten my revered father's intentions. You will hardly blame\r
+me for refusing to comply with this entreaty, or for resisting every\r
+repetition to it. His resentment was in proportion to the distress of\r
+his circumstances--and he was doubtless as violent in his abuse of me\r
+to others as in his reproaches to myself. After this period every\r
+appearance of acquaintance was dropped. How he lived I know not. But\r
+last summer he was again most painfully obtruded on my notice.\r
+\r
+"I must now mention a circumstance which I would wish to forget myself,\r
+and which no obligation less than the present should induce me to unfold\r
+to any human being. Having said thus much, I feel no doubt of your\r
+secrecy. My sister, who is more than ten years my junior, was left to\r
+the guardianship of my mother's nephew, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and myself.\r
+About a year ago, she was taken from school, and an establishment formed\r
+for her in London; and last summer she went with the lady who presided\r
+over it, to Ramsgate; and thither also went Mr. Wickham, undoubtedly by\r
+design; for there proved to have been a prior acquaintance between him\r
+and Mrs. Younge, in whose character we were most unhappily deceived; and\r
+by her connivance and aid, he so far recommended himself to Georgiana,\r
+whose affectionate heart retained a strong impression of his kindness to\r
+her as a child, that she was persuaded to believe herself in love, and\r
+to consent to an elopement. She was then but fifteen, which must be her\r
+excuse; and after stating her imprudence, I am happy to add, that I owed\r
+the knowledge of it to herself. I joined them unexpectedly a day or two\r
+before the intended elopement, and then Georgiana, unable to support the\r
+idea of grieving and offending a brother whom she almost looked up to as\r
+a father, acknowledged the whole to me. You may imagine what I felt and\r
+how I acted. Regard for my sister's credit and feelings prevented\r
+any public exposure; but I wrote to Mr. Wickham, who left the place\r
+immediately, and Mrs. Younge was of course removed from her charge. Mr.\r
+Wickham's chief object was unquestionably my sister's fortune, which\r
+is thirty thousand pounds; but I cannot help supposing that the hope of\r
+revenging himself on me was a strong inducement. His revenge would have\r
+been complete indeed.\r
+\r
+"This, madam, is a faithful narrative of every event in which we have\r
+been concerned together; and if you do not absolutely reject it as\r
+false, you will, I hope, acquit me henceforth of cruelty towards Mr.\r
+Wickham. I know not in what manner, under what form of falsehood he\r
+had imposed on you; but his success is not perhaps to be wondered\r
+at. Ignorant as you previously were of everything concerning either,\r
+detection could not be in your power, and suspicion certainly not in\r
+your inclination.\r
+\r
+"You may possibly wonder why all this was not told you last night; but\r
+I was not then master enough of myself to know what could or ought to\r
+be revealed. For the truth of everything here related, I can appeal more\r
+particularly to the testimony of Colonel Fitzwilliam, who, from our\r
+near relationship and constant intimacy, and, still more, as one of\r
+the executors of my father's will, has been unavoidably acquainted\r
+with every particular of these transactions. If your abhorrence of _me_\r
+should make _my_ assertions valueless, you cannot be prevented by\r
+the same cause from confiding in my cousin; and that there may be\r
+the possibility of consulting him, I shall endeavour to find some\r
+opportunity of putting this letter in your hands in the course of the\r
+morning. I will only add, God bless you.\r
+\r
+"FITZWILLIAM DARCY"\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 36\r
+\r
+\r
+If Elizabeth, when Mr. Darcy gave her the letter, did not expect it to\r
+contain a renewal of his offers, she had formed no expectation at all of\r
+its contents. But such as they were, it may well be supposed how eagerly\r
+she went through them, and what a contrariety of emotion they excited.\r
+Her feelings as she read were scarcely to be defined. With amazement did\r
+she first understand that he believed any apology to be in his power;\r
+and steadfastly was she persuaded, that he could have no explanation\r
+to give, which a just sense of shame would not conceal. With a strong\r
+prejudice against everything he might say, she began his account of what\r
+had happened at Netherfield. She read with an eagerness which hardly\r
+left her power of comprehension, and from impatience of knowing what the\r
+next sentence might bring, was incapable of attending to the sense of\r
+the one before her eyes. His belief of her sister's insensibility she\r
+instantly resolved to be false; and his account of the real, the worst\r
+objections to the match, made her too angry to have any wish of doing\r
+him justice. He expressed no regret for what he had done which satisfied\r
+her; his style was not penitent, but haughty. It was all pride and\r
+insolence.\r
+\r
+But when this subject was succeeded by his account of Mr. Wickham--when\r
+she read with somewhat clearer attention a relation of events which,\r
+if true, must overthrow every cherished opinion of his worth, and which\r
+bore so alarming an affinity to his own history of himself--her\r
+feelings were yet more acutely painful and more difficult of definition.\r
+Astonishment, apprehension, and even horror, oppressed her. She wished\r
+to discredit it entirely, repeatedly exclaiming, "This must be false!\r
+This cannot be! This must be the grossest falsehood!"--and when she had\r
+gone through the whole letter, though scarcely knowing anything of the\r
+last page or two, put it hastily away, protesting that she would not\r
+regard it, that she would never look in it again.\r
+\r
+In this perturbed state of mind, with thoughts that could rest on\r
+nothing, she walked on; but it would not do; in half a minute the letter\r
+was unfolded again, and collecting herself as well as she could, she\r
+again began the mortifying perusal of all that related to Wickham, and\r
+commanded herself so far as to examine the meaning of every sentence.\r
+The account of his connection with the Pemberley family was exactly what\r
+he had related himself; and the kindness of the late Mr. Darcy, though\r
+she had not before known its extent, agreed equally well with his own\r
+words. So far each recital confirmed the other; but when she came to the\r
+will, the difference was great. What Wickham had said of the living\r
+was fresh in her memory, and as she recalled his very words, it was\r
+impossible not to feel that there was gross duplicity on one side or the\r
+other; and, for a few moments, she flattered herself that her wishes did\r
+not err. But when she read and re-read with the closest attention, the\r
+particulars immediately following of Wickham's resigning all pretensions\r
+to the living, of his receiving in lieu so considerable a sum as three\r
+thousand pounds, again was she forced to hesitate. She put down\r
+the letter, weighed every circumstance with what she meant to be\r
+impartiality--deliberated on the probability of each statement--but with\r
+little success. On both sides it was only assertion. Again she read\r
+on; but every line proved more clearly that the affair, which she had\r
+believed it impossible that any contrivance could so represent as to\r
+render Mr. Darcy's conduct in it less than infamous, was capable of a\r
+turn which must make him entirely blameless throughout the whole.\r
+\r
+The extravagance and general profligacy which he scrupled not to lay at\r
+Mr. Wickham's charge, exceedingly shocked her; the more so, as she could\r
+bring no proof of its injustice. She had never heard of him before his\r
+entrance into the ----shire Militia, in which he had engaged at the\r
+persuasion of the young man who, on meeting him accidentally in town,\r
+had there renewed a slight acquaintance. Of his former way of life\r
+nothing had been known in Hertfordshire but what he told himself. As\r
+to his real character, had information been in her power, she had\r
+never felt a wish of inquiring. His countenance, voice, and manner had\r
+established him at once in the possession of every virtue. She tried\r
+to recollect some instance of goodness, some distinguished trait of\r
+integrity or benevolence, that might rescue him from the attacks of\r
+Mr. Darcy; or at least, by the predominance of virtue, atone for those\r
+casual errors under which she would endeavour to class what Mr. Darcy\r
+had described as the idleness and vice of many years' continuance. But\r
+no such recollection befriended her. She could see him instantly before\r
+her, in every charm of air and address; but she could remember no more\r
+substantial good than the general approbation of the neighbourhood, and\r
+the regard which his social powers had gained him in the mess. After\r
+pausing on this point a considerable while, she once more continued to\r
+read. But, alas! the story which followed, of his designs on Miss\r
+Darcy, received some confirmation from what had passed between Colonel\r
+Fitzwilliam and herself only the morning before; and at last she was\r
+referred for the truth of every particular to Colonel Fitzwilliam\r
+himself--from whom she had previously received the information of his\r
+near concern in all his cousin's affairs, and whose character she had no\r
+reason to question. At one time she had almost resolved on applying to\r
+him, but the idea was checked by the awkwardness of the application, and\r
+at length wholly banished by the conviction that Mr. Darcy would never\r
+have hazarded such a proposal, if he had not been well assured of his\r
+cousin's corroboration.\r
+\r
+She perfectly remembered everything that had passed in conversation\r
+between Wickham and herself, in their first evening at Mr. Phillips's.\r
+Many of his expressions were still fresh in her memory. She was _now_\r
+struck with the impropriety of such communications to a stranger, and\r
+wondered it had escaped her before. She saw the indelicacy of putting\r
+himself forward as he had done, and the inconsistency of his professions\r
+with his conduct. She remembered that he had boasted of having no fear\r
+of seeing Mr. Darcy--that Mr. Darcy might leave the country, but that\r
+_he_ should stand his ground; yet he had avoided the Netherfield ball\r
+the very next week. She remembered also that, till the Netherfield\r
+family had quitted the country, he had told his story to no one but\r
+herself; but that after their removal it had been everywhere discussed;\r
+that he had then no reserves, no scruples in sinking Mr. Darcy's\r
+character, though he had assured her that respect for the father would\r
+always prevent his exposing the son.\r
+\r
+How differently did everything now appear in which he was concerned!\r
+His attentions to Miss King were now the consequence of views solely and\r
+hatefully mercenary; and the mediocrity of her fortune proved no longer\r
+the moderation of his wishes, but his eagerness to grasp at anything.\r
+His behaviour to herself could now have had no tolerable motive; he had\r
+either been deceived with regard to her fortune, or had been gratifying\r
+his vanity by encouraging the preference which she believed she had most\r
+incautiously shown. Every lingering struggle in his favour grew fainter\r
+and fainter; and in farther justification of Mr. Darcy, she could not\r
+but allow that Mr. Bingley, when questioned by Jane, had long ago\r
+asserted his blamelessness in the affair; that proud and repulsive as\r
+were his manners, she had never, in the whole course of their\r
+acquaintance--an acquaintance which had latterly brought them much\r
+together, and given her a sort of intimacy with his ways--seen anything\r
+that betrayed him to be unprincipled or unjust--anything that spoke him\r
+of irreligious or immoral habits; that among his own connections he was\r
+esteemed and valued--that even Wickham had allowed him merit as a\r
+brother, and that she had often heard him speak so affectionately of his\r
+sister as to prove him capable of _some_ amiable feeling; that had his\r
+actions been what Mr. Wickham represented them, so gross a violation of\r
+everything right could hardly have been concealed from the world; and\r
+that friendship between a person capable of it, and such an amiable man\r
+as Mr. Bingley, was incomprehensible.\r
+\r
+She grew absolutely ashamed of herself. Of neither Darcy nor Wickham\r
+could she think without feeling she had been blind, partial, prejudiced,\r
+absurd.\r
+\r
+"How despicably I have acted!" she cried; "I, who have prided myself\r
+on my discernment! I, who have valued myself on my abilities! who have\r
+often disdained the generous candour of my sister, and gratified\r
+my vanity in useless or blameable mistrust! How humiliating is this\r
+discovery! Yet, how just a humiliation! Had I been in love, I could\r
+not have been more wretchedly blind! But vanity, not love, has been my\r
+folly. Pleased with the preference of one, and offended by the neglect\r
+of the other, on the very beginning of our acquaintance, I have courted\r
+prepossession and ignorance, and driven reason away, where either were\r
+concerned. Till this moment I never knew myself."\r
+\r
+From herself to Jane--from Jane to Bingley, her thoughts were in a line\r
+which soon brought to her recollection that Mr. Darcy's explanation\r
+_there_ had appeared very insufficient, and she read it again. Widely\r
+different was the effect of a second perusal. How could she deny that\r
+credit to his assertions in one instance, which she had been obliged to\r
+give in the other? He declared himself to be totally unsuspicious of her\r
+sister's attachment; and she could not help remembering what Charlotte's\r
+opinion had always been. Neither could she deny the justice of his\r
+description of Jane. She felt that Jane's feelings, though fervent, were\r
+little displayed, and that there was a constant complacency in her air\r
+and manner not often united with great sensibility.\r
+\r
+When she came to that part of the letter in which her family were\r
+mentioned in terms of such mortifying, yet merited reproach, her sense\r
+of shame was severe. The justice of the charge struck her too forcibly\r
+for denial, and the circumstances to which he particularly alluded as\r
+having passed at the Netherfield ball, and as confirming all his first\r
+disapprobation, could not have made a stronger impression on his mind\r
+than on hers.\r
+\r
+The compliment to herself and her sister was not unfelt. It soothed,\r
+but it could not console her for the contempt which had thus been\r
+self-attracted by the rest of her family; and as she considered\r
+that Jane's disappointment had in fact been the work of her nearest\r
+relations, and reflected how materially the credit of both must be hurt\r
+by such impropriety of conduct, she felt depressed beyond anything she\r
+had ever known before.\r
+\r
+After wandering along the lane for two hours, giving way to every\r
+variety of thought--re-considering events, determining probabilities,\r
+and reconciling herself, as well as she could, to a change so sudden and\r
+so important, fatigue, and a recollection of her long absence, made\r
+her at length return home; and she entered the house with the wish\r
+of appearing cheerful as usual, and the resolution of repressing such\r
+reflections as must make her unfit for conversation.\r
+\r
+She was immediately told that the two gentlemen from Rosings had each\r
+called during her absence; Mr. Darcy, only for a few minutes, to take\r
+leave--but that Colonel Fitzwilliam had been sitting with them at least\r
+an hour, hoping for her return, and almost resolving to walk after her\r
+till she could be found. Elizabeth could but just _affect_ concern\r
+in missing him; she really rejoiced at it. Colonel Fitzwilliam was no\r
+longer an object; she could think only of her letter.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 37\r
+\r
+\r
+The two gentlemen left Rosings the next morning, and Mr. Collins having\r
+been in waiting near the lodges, to make them his parting obeisance, was\r
+able to bring home the pleasing intelligence, of their appearing in very\r
+good health, and in as tolerable spirits as could be expected, after the\r
+melancholy scene so lately gone through at Rosings. To Rosings he then\r
+hastened, to console Lady Catherine and her daughter; and on his return\r
+brought back, with great satisfaction, a message from her ladyship,\r
+importing that she felt herself so dull as to make her very desirous of\r
+having them all to dine with her.\r
+\r
+Elizabeth could not see Lady Catherine without recollecting that, had\r
+she chosen it, she might by this time have been presented to her as\r
+her future niece; nor could she think, without a smile, of what her\r
+ladyship's indignation would have been. "What would she have said? how\r
+would she have behaved?" were questions with which she amused herself.\r
+\r
+Their first subject was the diminution of the Rosings party. "I assure\r
+you, I feel it exceedingly," said Lady Catherine; "I believe no one\r
+feels the loss of friends so much as I do. But I am particularly\r
+attached to these young men, and know them to be so much attached to\r
+me! They were excessively sorry to go! But so they always are. The\r
+dear Colonel rallied his spirits tolerably till just at last; but Darcy\r
+seemed to feel it most acutely, more, I think, than last year. His\r
+attachment to Rosings certainly increases."\r
+\r
+Mr. Collins had a compliment, and an allusion to throw in here, which\r
+were kindly smiled on by the mother and daughter.\r
+\r
+Lady Catherine observed, after dinner, that Miss Bennet seemed out of\r
+spirits, and immediately accounting for it by herself, by supposing that\r
+she did not like to go home again so soon, she added:\r
+\r
+"But if that is the case, you must write to your mother and beg that\r
+you may stay a little longer. Mrs. Collins will be very glad of your\r
+company, I am sure."\r
+\r
+"I am much obliged to your ladyship for your kind invitation," replied\r
+Elizabeth, "but it is not in my power to accept it. I must be in town\r
+next Saturday."\r
+\r
+"Why, at that rate, you will have been here only six weeks. I expected\r
+you to stay two months. I told Mrs. Collins so before you came. There\r
+can be no occasion for your going so soon. Mrs. Bennet could certainly\r
+spare you for another fortnight."\r
+\r
+"But my father cannot. He wrote last week to hurry my return."\r
+\r
+"Oh! your father of course may spare you, if your mother can. Daughters\r
+are never of so much consequence to a father. And if you will stay\r
+another _month_ complete, it will be in my power to take one of you as\r
+far as London, for I am going there early in June, for a week; and as\r
+Dawson does not object to the barouche-box, there will be very good room\r
+for one of you--and indeed, if the weather should happen to be cool, I\r
+should not object to taking you both, as you are neither of you large."\r
+\r
+"You are all kindness, madam; but I believe we must abide by our\r
+original plan."\r
+\r
+Lady Catherine seemed resigned. "Mrs. Collins, you must send a servant\r
+with them. You know I always speak my mind, and I cannot bear the idea\r
+of two young women travelling post by themselves. It is highly improper.\r
+You must contrive to send somebody. I have the greatest dislike in\r
+the world to that sort of thing. Young women should always be properly\r
+guarded and attended, according to their situation in life. When my\r
+niece Georgiana went to Ramsgate last summer, I made a point of her\r
+having two men-servants go with her. Miss Darcy, the daughter of\r
+Mr. Darcy, of Pemberley, and Lady Anne, could not have appeared with\r
+propriety in a different manner. I am excessively attentive to all those\r
+things. You must send John with the young ladies, Mrs. Collins. I\r
+am glad it occurred to me to mention it; for it would really be\r
+discreditable to _you_ to let them go alone."\r
+\r
+"My uncle is to send a servant for us."\r
+\r
+"Oh! Your uncle! He keeps a man-servant, does he? I am very glad you\r
+have somebody who thinks of these things. Where shall you change horses?\r
+Oh! Bromley, of course. If you mention my name at the Bell, you will be\r
+attended to."\r
+\r
+Lady Catherine had many other questions to ask respecting their journey,\r
+and as she did not answer them all herself, attention was necessary,\r
+which Elizabeth believed to be lucky for her; or, with a mind so\r
+occupied, she might have forgotten where she was. Reflection must be\r
+reserved for solitary hours; whenever she was alone, she gave way to it\r
+as the greatest relief; and not a day went by without a solitary\r
+walk, in which she might indulge in all the delight of unpleasant\r
+recollections.\r
+\r
+Mr. Darcy's letter she was in a fair way of soon knowing by heart. She\r
+studied every sentence; and her feelings towards its writer were at\r
+times widely different. When she remembered the style of his address,\r
+she was still full of indignation; but when she considered how unjustly\r
+she had condemned and upbraided him, her anger was turned against\r
+herself; and his disappointed feelings became the object of compassion.\r
+His attachment excited gratitude, his general character respect; but she\r
+could not approve him; nor could she for a moment repent her refusal,\r
+or feel the slightest inclination ever to see him again. In her own past\r
+behaviour, there was a constant source of vexation and regret; and in\r
+the unhappy defects of her family, a subject of yet heavier chagrin.\r
+They were hopeless of remedy. Her father, contented with laughing at\r
+them, would never exert himself to restrain the wild giddiness of his\r
+youngest daughters; and her mother, with manners so far from right\r
+herself, was entirely insensible of the evil. Elizabeth had frequently\r
+united with Jane in an endeavour to check the imprudence of Catherine\r
+and Lydia; but while they were supported by their mother's indulgence,\r
+what chance could there be of improvement? Catherine, weak-spirited,\r
+irritable, and completely under Lydia's guidance, had been always\r
+affronted by their advice; and Lydia, self-willed and careless, would\r
+scarcely give them a hearing. They were ignorant, idle, and vain. While\r
+there was an officer in Meryton, they would flirt with him; and while\r
+Meryton was within a walk of Longbourn, they would be going there\r
+forever.\r
+\r
+Anxiety on Jane's behalf was another prevailing concern; and Mr. Darcy's\r
+explanation, by restoring Bingley to all her former good opinion,\r
+heightened the sense of what Jane had lost. His affection was proved\r
+to have been sincere, and his conduct cleared of all blame, unless any\r
+could attach to the implicitness of his confidence in his friend. How\r
+grievous then was the thought that, of a situation so desirable in every\r
+respect, so replete with advantage, so promising for happiness, Jane had\r
+been deprived, by the folly and indecorum of her own family!\r
+\r
+When to these recollections was added the development of Wickham's\r
+character, it may be easily believed that the happy spirits which had\r
+seldom been depressed before, were now so much affected as to make it\r
+almost impossible for her to appear tolerably cheerful.\r
+\r
+Their engagements at Rosings were as frequent during the last week of\r
+her stay as they had been at first. The very last evening was spent\r
+there; and her ladyship again inquired minutely into the particulars of\r
+their journey, gave them directions as to the best method of packing,\r
+and was so urgent on the necessity of placing gowns in the only right\r
+way, that Maria thought herself obliged, on her return, to undo all the\r
+work of the morning, and pack her trunk afresh.\r
+\r
+When they parted, Lady Catherine, with great condescension, wished them\r
+a good journey, and invited them to come to Hunsford again next year;\r
+and Miss de Bourgh exerted herself so far as to curtsey and hold out her\r
+hand to both.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 38\r
+\r
+\r
+On Saturday morning Elizabeth and Mr. Collins met for breakfast a few\r
+minutes before the others appeared; and he took the opportunity of\r
+paying the parting civilities which he deemed indispensably necessary.\r
+\r
+"I know not, Miss Elizabeth," said he, "whether Mrs. Collins has yet\r
+expressed her sense of your kindness in coming to us; but I am very\r
+certain you will not leave the house without receiving her thanks for\r
+it. The favour of your company has been much felt, I assure you. We\r
+know how little there is to tempt anyone to our humble abode. Our plain\r
+manner of living, our small rooms and few domestics, and the little we\r
+see of the world, must make Hunsford extremely dull to a young lady like\r
+yourself; but I hope you will believe us grateful for the condescension,\r
+and that we have done everything in our power to prevent your spending\r
+your time unpleasantly."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth was eager with her thanks and assurances of happiness. She\r
+had spent six weeks with great enjoyment; and the pleasure of being with\r
+Charlotte, and the kind attentions she had received, must make _her_\r
+feel the obliged. Mr. Collins was gratified, and with a more smiling\r
+solemnity replied:\r
+\r
+"It gives me great pleasure to hear that you have passed your time not\r
+disagreeably. We have certainly done our best; and most fortunately\r
+having it in our power to introduce you to very superior society, and,\r
+from our connection with Rosings, the frequent means of varying the\r
+humble home scene, I think we may flatter ourselves that your Hunsford\r
+visit cannot have been entirely irksome. Our situation with regard to\r
+Lady Catherine's family is indeed the sort of extraordinary advantage\r
+and blessing which few can boast. You see on what a footing we are. You\r
+see how continually we are engaged there. In truth I must acknowledge\r
+that, with all the disadvantages of this humble parsonage, I should\r
+not think anyone abiding in it an object of compassion, while they are\r
+sharers of our intimacy at Rosings."\r
+\r
+Words were insufficient for the elevation of his feelings; and he was\r
+obliged to walk about the room, while Elizabeth tried to unite civility\r
+and truth in a few short sentences.\r
+\r
+"You may, in fact, carry a very favourable report of us into\r
+Hertfordshire, my dear cousin. I flatter myself at least that you will\r
+be able to do so. Lady Catherine's great attentions to Mrs. Collins you\r
+have been a daily witness of; and altogether I trust it does not appear\r
+that your friend has drawn an unfortunate--but on this point it will be\r
+as well to be silent. Only let me assure you, my dear Miss Elizabeth,\r
+that I can from my heart most cordially wish you equal felicity in\r
+marriage. My dear Charlotte and I have but one mind and one way of\r
+thinking. There is in everything a most remarkable resemblance of\r
+character and ideas between us. We seem to have been designed for each\r
+other."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth could safely say that it was a great happiness where that was\r
+the case, and with equal sincerity could add, that she firmly believed\r
+and rejoiced in his domestic comforts. She was not sorry, however, to\r
+have the recital of them interrupted by the lady from whom they sprang.\r
+Poor Charlotte! it was melancholy to leave her to such society! But she\r
+had chosen it with her eyes open; and though evidently regretting that\r
+her visitors were to go, she did not seem to ask for compassion. Her\r
+home and her housekeeping, her parish and her poultry, and all their\r
+dependent concerns, had not yet lost their charms.\r
+\r
+At length the chaise arrived, the trunks were fastened on, the parcels\r
+placed within, and it was pronounced to be ready. After an affectionate\r
+parting between the friends, Elizabeth was attended to the carriage by\r
+Mr. Collins, and as they walked down the garden he was commissioning her\r
+with his best respects to all her family, not forgetting his thanks\r
+for the kindness he had received at Longbourn in the winter, and his\r
+compliments to Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, though unknown. He then handed her\r
+in, Maria followed, and the door was on the point of being closed,\r
+when he suddenly reminded them, with some consternation, that they had\r
+hitherto forgotten to leave any message for the ladies at Rosings.\r
+\r
+"But," he added, "you will of course wish to have your humble respects\r
+delivered to them, with your grateful thanks for their kindness to you\r
+while you have been here."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth made no objection; the door was then allowed to be shut, and\r
+the carriage drove off.\r
+\r
+"Good gracious!" cried Maria, after a few minutes' silence, "it seems\r
+but a day or two since we first came! and yet how many things have\r
+happened!"\r
+\r
+"A great many indeed," said her companion with a sigh.\r
+\r
+"We have dined nine times at Rosings, besides drinking tea there twice!\r
+How much I shall have to tell!"\r
+\r
+Elizabeth added privately, "And how much I shall have to conceal!"\r
+\r
+Their journey was performed without much conversation, or any alarm; and\r
+within four hours of their leaving Hunsford they reached Mr. Gardiner's\r
+house, where they were to remain a few days.\r
+\r
+Jane looked well, and Elizabeth had little opportunity of studying her\r
+spirits, amidst the various engagements which the kindness of her\r
+aunt had reserved for them. But Jane was to go home with her, and at\r
+Longbourn there would be leisure enough for observation.\r
+\r
+It was not without an effort, meanwhile, that she could wait even for\r
+Longbourn, before she told her sister of Mr. Darcy's proposals. To know\r
+that she had the power of revealing what would so exceedingly astonish\r
+Jane, and must, at the same time, so highly gratify whatever of her own\r
+vanity she had not yet been able to reason away, was such a temptation\r
+to openness as nothing could have conquered but the state of indecision\r
+in which she remained as to the extent of what she should communicate;\r
+and her fear, if she once entered on the subject, of being hurried\r
+into repeating something of Bingley which might only grieve her sister\r
+further.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 39\r
+\r
+\r
+It was the second week in May, in which the three young ladies set out\r
+together from Gracechurch Street for the town of ----, in Hertfordshire;\r
+and, as they drew near the appointed inn where Mr. Bennet's carriage\r
+was to meet them, they quickly perceived, in token of the coachman's\r
+punctuality, both Kitty and Lydia looking out of a dining-room up stairs.\r
+These two girls had been above an hour in the place, happily employed\r
+in visiting an opposite milliner, watching the sentinel on guard, and\r
+dressing a salad and cucumber.\r
+\r
+After welcoming their sisters, they triumphantly displayed a table set\r
+out with such cold meat as an inn larder usually affords, exclaiming,\r
+"Is not this nice? Is not this an agreeable surprise?"\r
+\r
+"And we mean to treat you all," added Lydia, "but you must lend us the\r
+money, for we have just spent ours at the shop out there." Then, showing\r
+her purchases--"Look here, I have bought this bonnet. I do not think\r
+it is very pretty; but I thought I might as well buy it as not. I shall\r
+pull it to pieces as soon as I get home, and see if I can make it up any\r
+better."\r
+\r
+And when her sisters abused it as ugly, she added, with perfect\r
+unconcern, "Oh! but there were two or three much uglier in the shop; and\r
+when I have bought some prettier-coloured satin to trim it with fresh, I\r
+think it will be very tolerable. Besides, it will not much signify what\r
+one wears this summer, after the ----shire have left Meryton, and they\r
+are going in a fortnight."\r
+\r
+"Are they indeed!" cried Elizabeth, with the greatest satisfaction.\r
+\r
+"They are going to be encamped near Brighton; and I do so want papa to\r
+take us all there for the summer! It would be such a delicious scheme;\r
+and I dare say would hardly cost anything at all. Mamma would like to\r
+go too of all things! Only think what a miserable summer else we shall\r
+have!"\r
+\r
+"Yes," thought Elizabeth, "_that_ would be a delightful scheme indeed,\r
+and completely do for us at once. Good Heaven! Brighton, and a whole\r
+campful of soldiers, to us, who have been overset already by one poor\r
+regiment of militia, and the monthly balls of Meryton!"\r
+\r
+"Now I have got some news for you," said Lydia, as they sat down at\r
+table. "What do you think? It is excellent news--capital news--and about\r
+a certain person we all like!"\r
+\r
+Jane and Elizabeth looked at each other, and the waiter was told he need\r
+not stay. Lydia laughed, and said:\r
+\r
+"Aye, that is just like your formality and discretion. You thought the\r
+waiter must not hear, as if he cared! I dare say he often hears worse\r
+things said than I am going to say. But he is an ugly fellow! I am glad\r
+he is gone. I never saw such a long chin in my life. Well, but now for\r
+my news; it is about dear Wickham; too good for the waiter, is it not?\r
+There is no danger of Wickham's marrying Mary King. There's for you! She\r
+is gone down to her uncle at Liverpool: gone to stay. Wickham is safe."\r
+\r
+"And Mary King is safe!" added Elizabeth; "safe from a connection\r
+imprudent as to fortune."\r
+\r
+"She is a great fool for going away, if she liked him."\r
+\r
+"But I hope there is no strong attachment on either side," said Jane.\r
+\r
+"I am sure there is not on _his_. I will answer for it, he never cared\r
+three straws about her--who could about such a nasty little freckled\r
+thing?"\r
+\r
+Elizabeth was shocked to think that, however incapable of such\r
+coarseness of _expression_ herself, the coarseness of the _sentiment_\r
+was little other than her own breast had harboured and fancied liberal!\r
+\r
+As soon as all had ate, and the elder ones paid, the carriage was\r
+ordered; and after some contrivance, the whole party, with all their\r
+boxes, work-bags, and parcels, and the unwelcome addition of Kitty's and\r
+Lydia's purchases, were seated in it.\r
+\r
+"How nicely we are all crammed in," cried Lydia. "I am glad I bought my\r
+bonnet, if it is only for the fun of having another bandbox! Well, now\r
+let us be quite comfortable and snug, and talk and laugh all the way\r
+home. And in the first place, let us hear what has happened to you all\r
+since you went away. Have you seen any pleasant men? Have you had any\r
+flirting? I was in great hopes that one of you would have got a husband\r
+before you came back. Jane will be quite an old maid soon, I declare.\r
+She is almost three-and-twenty! Lord, how ashamed I should be of not\r
+being married before three-and-twenty! My aunt Phillips wants you so to\r
+get husbands, you can't think. She says Lizzy had better have taken Mr.\r
+Collins; but _I_ do not think there would have been any fun in it. Lord!\r
+how I should like to be married before any of you; and then I would\r
+chaperon you about to all the balls. Dear me! we had such a good piece\r
+of fun the other day at Colonel Forster's. Kitty and me were to spend\r
+the day there, and Mrs. Forster promised to have a little dance in the\r
+evening; (by the bye, Mrs. Forster and me are _such_ friends!) and so\r
+she asked the two Harringtons to come, but Harriet was ill, and so Pen\r
+was forced to come by herself; and then, what do you think we did? We\r
+dressed up Chamberlayne in woman's clothes on purpose to pass for a\r
+lady, only think what fun! Not a soul knew of it, but Colonel and Mrs.\r
+Forster, and Kitty and me, except my aunt, for we were forced to borrow\r
+one of her gowns; and you cannot imagine how well he looked! When Denny,\r
+and Wickham, and Pratt, and two or three more of the men came in, they\r
+did not know him in the least. Lord! how I laughed! and so did Mrs.\r
+Forster. I thought I should have died. And _that_ made the men suspect\r
+something, and then they soon found out what was the matter."\r
+\r
+With such kinds of histories of their parties and good jokes, did\r
+Lydia, assisted by Kitty's hints and additions, endeavour to amuse her\r
+companions all the way to Longbourn. Elizabeth listened as little as she\r
+could, but there was no escaping the frequent mention of Wickham's name.\r
+\r
+Their reception at home was most kind. Mrs. Bennet rejoiced to see Jane\r
+in undiminished beauty; and more than once during dinner did Mr. Bennet\r
+say voluntarily to Elizabeth:\r
+\r
+"I am glad you are come back, Lizzy."\r
+\r
+Their party in the dining-room was large, for almost all the Lucases\r
+came to meet Maria and hear the news; and various were the subjects that\r
+occupied them: Lady Lucas was inquiring of Maria, after the welfare and\r
+poultry of her eldest daughter; Mrs. Bennet was doubly engaged, on one\r
+hand collecting an account of the present fashions from Jane, who sat\r
+some way below her, and, on the other, retailing them all to the younger\r
+Lucases; and Lydia, in a voice rather louder than any other person's,\r
+was enumerating the various pleasures of the morning to anybody who\r
+would hear her.\r
+\r
+"Oh! Mary," said she, "I wish you had gone with us, for we had such fun!\r
+As we went along, Kitty and I drew up the blinds, and pretended there\r
+was nobody in the coach; and I should have gone so all the way, if Kitty\r
+had not been sick; and when we got to the George, I do think we behaved\r
+very handsomely, for we treated the other three with the nicest cold\r
+luncheon in the world, and if you would have gone, we would have treated\r
+you too. And then when we came away it was such fun! I thought we never\r
+should have got into the coach. I was ready to die of laughter. And then\r
+we were so merry all the way home! we talked and laughed so loud, that\r
+anybody might have heard us ten miles off!"\r
+\r
+To this Mary very gravely replied, "Far be it from me, my dear sister,\r
+to depreciate such pleasures! They would doubtless be congenial with the\r
+generality of female minds. But I confess they would have no charms for\r
+_me_--I should infinitely prefer a book."\r
+\r
+But of this answer Lydia heard not a word. She seldom listened to\r
+anybody for more than half a minute, and never attended to Mary at all.\r
+\r
+In the afternoon Lydia was urgent with the rest of the girls to walk\r
+to Meryton, and to see how everybody went on; but Elizabeth steadily\r
+opposed the scheme. It should not be said that the Miss Bennets could\r
+not be at home half a day before they were in pursuit of the officers.\r
+There was another reason too for her opposition. She dreaded seeing Mr.\r
+Wickham again, and was resolved to avoid it as long as possible. The\r
+comfort to _her_ of the regiment's approaching removal was indeed beyond\r
+expression. In a fortnight they were to go--and once gone, she hoped\r
+there could be nothing more to plague her on his account.\r
+\r
+She had not been many hours at home before she found that the Brighton\r
+scheme, of which Lydia had given them a hint at the inn, was under\r
+frequent discussion between her parents. Elizabeth saw directly that her\r
+father had not the smallest intention of yielding; but his answers were\r
+at the same time so vague and equivocal, that her mother, though often\r
+disheartened, had never yet despaired of succeeding at last.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 40\r
+\r
+\r
+Elizabeth's impatience to acquaint Jane with what had happened could\r
+no longer be overcome; and at length, resolving to suppress every\r
+particular in which her sister was concerned, and preparing her to be\r
+surprised, she related to her the next morning the chief of the scene\r
+between Mr. Darcy and herself.\r
+\r
+Miss Bennet's astonishment was soon lessened by the strong sisterly\r
+partiality which made any admiration of Elizabeth appear perfectly\r
+natural; and all surprise was shortly lost in other feelings. She was\r
+sorry that Mr. Darcy should have delivered his sentiments in a manner so\r
+little suited to recommend them; but still more was she grieved for the\r
+unhappiness which her sister's refusal must have given him.\r
+\r
+"His being so sure of succeeding was wrong," said she, "and certainly\r
+ought not to have appeared; but consider how much it must increase his\r
+disappointment!"\r
+\r
+"Indeed," replied Elizabeth, "I am heartily sorry for him; but he has\r
+other feelings, which will probably soon drive away his regard for me.\r
+You do not blame me, however, for refusing him?"\r
+\r
+"Blame you! Oh, no."\r
+\r
+"But you blame me for having spoken so warmly of Wickham?"\r
+\r
+"No--I do not know that you were wrong in saying what you did."\r
+\r
+"But you _will_ know it, when I tell you what happened the very next\r
+day."\r
+\r
+She then spoke of the letter, repeating the whole of its contents as far\r
+as they concerned George Wickham. What a stroke was this for poor Jane!\r
+who would willingly have gone through the world without believing that\r
+so much wickedness existed in the whole race of mankind, as was here\r
+collected in one individual. Nor was Darcy's vindication, though\r
+grateful to her feelings, capable of consoling her for such discovery.\r
+Most earnestly did she labour to prove the probability of error, and\r
+seek to clear the one without involving the other.\r
+\r
+"This will not do," said Elizabeth; "you never will be able to make both\r
+of them good for anything. Take your choice, but you must be satisfied\r
+with only one. There is but such a quantity of merit between them; just\r
+enough to make one good sort of man; and of late it has been shifting\r
+about pretty much. For my part, I am inclined to believe it all Darcy's;\r
+but you shall do as you choose."\r
+\r
+It was some time, however, before a smile could be extorted from Jane.\r
+\r
+"I do not know when I have been more shocked," said she. "Wickham so\r
+very bad! It is almost past belief. And poor Mr. Darcy! Dear Lizzy, only\r
+consider what he must have suffered. Such a disappointment! and with the\r
+knowledge of your ill opinion, too! and having to relate such a thing\r
+of his sister! It is really too distressing. I am sure you must feel it\r
+so."\r
+\r
+"Oh! no, my regret and compassion are all done away by seeing you so\r
+full of both. I know you will do him such ample justice, that I am\r
+growing every moment more unconcerned and indifferent. Your profusion\r
+makes me saving; and if you lament over him much longer, my heart will\r
+be as light as a feather."\r
+\r
+"Poor Wickham! there is such an expression of goodness in his\r
+countenance! such an openness and gentleness in his manner!"\r
+\r
+"There certainly was some great mismanagement in the education of those\r
+two young men. One has got all the goodness, and the other all the\r
+appearance of it."\r
+\r
+"I never thought Mr. Darcy so deficient in the _appearance_ of it as you\r
+used to do."\r
+\r
+"And yet I meant to be uncommonly clever in taking so decided a dislike\r
+to him, without any reason. It is such a spur to one's genius, such an\r
+opening for wit, to have a dislike of that kind. One may be continually\r
+abusive without saying anything just; but one cannot always be laughing\r
+at a man without now and then stumbling on something witty."\r
+\r
+"Lizzy, when you first read that letter, I am sure you could not treat\r
+the matter as you do now."\r
+\r
+"Indeed, I could not. I was uncomfortable enough, I may say unhappy. And\r
+with no one to speak to about what I felt, no Jane to comfort me and say\r
+that I had not been so very weak and vain and nonsensical as I knew I\r
+had! Oh! how I wanted you!"\r
+\r
+"How unfortunate that you should have used such very strong expressions\r
+in speaking of Wickham to Mr. Darcy, for now they _do_ appear wholly\r
+undeserved."\r
+\r
+"Certainly. But the misfortune of speaking with bitterness is a most\r
+natural consequence of the prejudices I had been encouraging. There\r
+is one point on which I want your advice. I want to be told whether I\r
+ought, or ought not, to make our acquaintances in general understand\r
+Wickham's character."\r
+\r
+Miss Bennet paused a little, and then replied, "Surely there can be no\r
+occasion for exposing him so dreadfully. What is your opinion?"\r
+\r
+"That it ought not to be attempted. Mr. Darcy has not authorised me\r
+to make his communication public. On the contrary, every particular\r
+relative to his sister was meant to be kept as much as possible to\r
+myself; and if I endeavour to undeceive people as to the rest of his\r
+conduct, who will believe me? The general prejudice against Mr. Darcy\r
+is so violent, that it would be the death of half the good people in\r
+Meryton to attempt to place him in an amiable light. I am not equal\r
+to it. Wickham will soon be gone; and therefore it will not signify to\r
+anyone here what he really is. Some time hence it will be all found out,\r
+and then we may laugh at their stupidity in not knowing it before. At\r
+present I will say nothing about it."\r
+\r
+"You are quite right. To have his errors made public might ruin him for\r
+ever. He is now, perhaps, sorry for what he has done, and anxious to\r
+re-establish a character. We must not make him desperate."\r
+\r
+The tumult of Elizabeth's mind was allayed by this conversation. She had\r
+got rid of two of the secrets which had weighed on her for a fortnight,\r
+and was certain of a willing listener in Jane, whenever she might wish\r
+to talk again of either. But there was still something lurking behind,\r
+of which prudence forbade the disclosure. She dared not relate the other\r
+half of Mr. Darcy's letter, nor explain to her sister how sincerely she\r
+had been valued by her friend. Here was knowledge in which no one\r
+could partake; and she was sensible that nothing less than a perfect\r
+understanding between the parties could justify her in throwing off\r
+this last encumbrance of mystery. "And then," said she, "if that very\r
+improbable event should ever take place, I shall merely be able to\r
+tell what Bingley may tell in a much more agreeable manner himself. The\r
+liberty of communication cannot be mine till it has lost all its value!"\r
+\r
+She was now, on being settled at home, at leisure to observe the real\r
+state of her sister's spirits. Jane was not happy. She still cherished a\r
+very tender affection for Bingley. Having never even fancied herself\r
+in love before, her regard had all the warmth of first attachment,\r
+and, from her age and disposition, greater steadiness than most first\r
+attachments often boast; and so fervently did she value his remembrance,\r
+and prefer him to every other man, that all her good sense, and all her\r
+attention to the feelings of her friends, were requisite to check the\r
+indulgence of those regrets which must have been injurious to her own\r
+health and their tranquillity.\r
+\r
+"Well, Lizzy," said Mrs. Bennet one day, "what is your opinion _now_ of\r
+this sad business of Jane's? For my part, I am determined never to speak\r
+of it again to anybody. I told my sister Phillips so the other day. But\r
+I cannot find out that Jane saw anything of him in London. Well, he is\r
+a very undeserving young man--and I do not suppose there's the least\r
+chance in the world of her ever getting him now. There is no talk of\r
+his coming to Netherfield again in the summer; and I have inquired of\r
+everybody, too, who is likely to know."\r
+\r
+"I do not believe he will ever live at Netherfield any more."\r
+\r
+"Oh well! it is just as he chooses. Nobody wants him to come. Though I\r
+shall always say he used my daughter extremely ill; and if I was her, I\r
+would not have put up with it. Well, my comfort is, I am sure Jane will\r
+die of a broken heart; and then he will be sorry for what he has done."\r
+\r
+But as Elizabeth could not receive comfort from any such expectation,\r
+she made no answer.\r
+\r
+"Well, Lizzy," continued her mother, soon afterwards, "and so the\r
+Collinses live very comfortable, do they? Well, well, I only hope\r
+it will last. And what sort of table do they keep? Charlotte is an\r
+excellent manager, I dare say. If she is half as sharp as her\r
+mother, she is saving enough. There is nothing extravagant in _their_\r
+housekeeping, I dare say."\r
+\r
+"No, nothing at all."\r
+\r
+"A great deal of good management, depend upon it. Yes, yes, _they_ will\r
+take care not to outrun their income. _They_ will never be distressed\r
+for money. Well, much good may it do them! And so, I suppose, they often\r
+talk of having Longbourn when your father is dead. They look upon it as\r
+quite their own, I dare say, whenever that happens."\r
+\r
+"It was a subject which they could not mention before me."\r
+\r
+"No; it would have been strange if they had; but I make no doubt they\r
+often talk of it between themselves. Well, if they can be easy with an\r
+estate that is not lawfully their own, so much the better. I should be\r
+ashamed of having one that was only entailed on me."\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 41\r
+\r
+\r
+The first week of their return was soon gone. The second began. It was\r
+the last of the regiment's stay in Meryton, and all the young ladies\r
+in the neighbourhood were drooping apace. The dejection was almost\r
+universal. The elder Miss Bennets alone were still able to eat, drink,\r
+and sleep, and pursue the usual course of their employments. Very\r
+frequently were they reproached for this insensibility by Kitty and\r
+Lydia, whose own misery was extreme, and who could not comprehend such\r
+hard-heartedness in any of the family.\r
+\r
+"Good Heaven! what is to become of us? What are we to do?" would they\r
+often exclaim in the bitterness of woe. "How can you be smiling so,\r
+Lizzy?"\r
+\r
+Their affectionate mother shared all their grief; she remembered what\r
+she had herself endured on a similar occasion, five-and-twenty years\r
+ago.\r
+\r
+"I am sure," said she, "I cried for two days together when Colonel\r
+Miller's regiment went away. I thought I should have broken my heart."\r
+\r
+"I am sure I shall break _mine_," said Lydia.\r
+\r
+"If one could but go to Brighton!" observed Mrs. Bennet.\r
+\r
+"Oh, yes!--if one could but go to Brighton! But papa is so\r
+disagreeable."\r
+\r
+"A little sea-bathing would set me up forever."\r
+\r
+"And my aunt Phillips is sure it would do _me_ a great deal of good,"\r
+added Kitty.\r
+\r
+Such were the kind of lamentations resounding perpetually through\r
+Longbourn House. Elizabeth tried to be diverted by them; but all sense\r
+of pleasure was lost in shame. She felt anew the justice of Mr. Darcy's\r
+objections; and never had she been so much disposed to pardon his\r
+interference in the views of his friend.\r
+\r
+But the gloom of Lydia's prospect was shortly cleared away; for she\r
+received an invitation from Mrs. Forster, the wife of the colonel of\r
+the regiment, to accompany her to Brighton. This invaluable friend was a\r
+very young woman, and very lately married. A resemblance in good humour\r
+and good spirits had recommended her and Lydia to each other, and out of\r
+their _three_ months' acquaintance they had been intimate _two_.\r
+\r
+The rapture of Lydia on this occasion, her adoration of Mrs. Forster,\r
+the delight of Mrs. Bennet, and the mortification of Kitty, are scarcely\r
+to be described. Wholly inattentive to her sister's feelings, Lydia\r
+flew about the house in restless ecstasy, calling for everyone's\r
+congratulations, and laughing and talking with more violence than ever;\r
+whilst the luckless Kitty continued in the parlour repined at her fate\r
+in terms as unreasonable as her accent was peevish.\r
+\r
+"I cannot see why Mrs. Forster should not ask _me_ as well as Lydia,"\r
+said she, "Though I am _not_ her particular friend. I have just as much\r
+right to be asked as she has, and more too, for I am two years older."\r
+\r
+In vain did Elizabeth attempt to make her reasonable, and Jane to make\r
+her resigned. As for Elizabeth herself, this invitation was so far from\r
+exciting in her the same feelings as in her mother and Lydia, that she\r
+considered it as the death warrant of all possibility of common sense\r
+for the latter; and detestable as such a step must make her were it\r
+known, she could not help secretly advising her father not to let her\r
+go. She represented to him all the improprieties of Lydia's general\r
+behaviour, the little advantage she could derive from the friendship of\r
+such a woman as Mrs. Forster, and the probability of her being yet more\r
+imprudent with such a companion at Brighton, where the temptations must\r
+be greater than at home. He heard her attentively, and then said:\r
+\r
+"Lydia will never be easy until she has exposed herself in some public\r
+place or other, and we can never expect her to do it with so\r
+little expense or inconvenience to her family as under the present\r
+circumstances."\r
+\r
+"If you were aware," said Elizabeth, "of the very great disadvantage to\r
+us all which must arise from the public notice of Lydia's unguarded and\r
+imprudent manner--nay, which has already arisen from it, I am sure you\r
+would judge differently in the affair."\r
+\r
+"Already arisen?" repeated Mr. Bennet. "What, has she frightened away\r
+some of your lovers? Poor little Lizzy! But do not be cast down. Such\r
+squeamish youths as cannot bear to be connected with a little absurdity\r
+are not worth a regret. Come, let me see the list of pitiful fellows who\r
+have been kept aloof by Lydia's folly."\r
+\r
+"Indeed you are mistaken. I have no such injuries to resent. It is not\r
+of particular, but of general evils, which I am now complaining. Our\r
+importance, our respectability in the world must be affected by the\r
+wild volatility, the assurance and disdain of all restraint which mark\r
+Lydia's character. Excuse me, for I must speak plainly. If you, my dear\r
+father, will not take the trouble of checking her exuberant spirits, and\r
+of teaching her that her present pursuits are not to be the business of\r
+her life, she will soon be beyond the reach of amendment. Her character\r
+will be fixed, and she will, at sixteen, be the most determined flirt\r
+that ever made herself or her family ridiculous; a flirt, too, in the\r
+worst and meanest degree of flirtation; without any attraction beyond\r
+youth and a tolerable person; and, from the ignorance and emptiness\r
+of her mind, wholly unable to ward off any portion of that universal\r
+contempt which her rage for admiration will excite. In this danger\r
+Kitty also is comprehended. She will follow wherever Lydia leads. Vain,\r
+ignorant, idle, and absolutely uncontrolled! Oh! my dear father, can you\r
+suppose it possible that they will not be censured and despised wherever\r
+they are known, and that their sisters will not be often involved in the\r
+disgrace?"\r
+\r
+Mr. Bennet saw that her whole heart was in the subject, and\r
+affectionately taking her hand said in reply:\r
+\r
+"Do not make yourself uneasy, my love. Wherever you and Jane are known\r
+you must be respected and valued; and you will not appear to less\r
+advantage for having a couple of--or I may say, three--very silly\r
+sisters. We shall have no peace at Longbourn if Lydia does not go to\r
+Brighton. Let her go, then. Colonel Forster is a sensible man, and will\r
+keep her out of any real mischief; and she is luckily too poor to be an\r
+object of prey to anybody. At Brighton she will be of less importance\r
+even as a common flirt than she has been here. The officers will find\r
+women better worth their notice. Let us hope, therefore, that her being\r
+there may teach her her own insignificance. At any rate, she cannot grow\r
+many degrees worse, without authorising us to lock her up for the rest\r
+of her life."\r
+\r
+With this answer Elizabeth was forced to be content; but her own opinion\r
+continued the same, and she left him disappointed and sorry. It was not\r
+in her nature, however, to increase her vexations by dwelling on\r
+them. She was confident of having performed her duty, and to fret\r
+over unavoidable evils, or augment them by anxiety, was no part of her\r
+disposition.\r
+\r
+Had Lydia and her mother known the substance of her conference with her\r
+father, their indignation would hardly have found expression in their\r
+united volubility. In Lydia's imagination, a visit to Brighton comprised\r
+every possibility of earthly happiness. She saw, with the creative eye\r
+of fancy, the streets of that gay bathing-place covered with officers.\r
+She saw herself the object of attention, to tens and to scores of them\r
+at present unknown. She saw all the glories of the camp--its tents\r
+stretched forth in beauteous uniformity of lines, crowded with the young\r
+and the gay, and dazzling with scarlet; and, to complete the view, she\r
+saw herself seated beneath a tent, tenderly flirting with at least six\r
+officers at once.\r
+\r
+Had she known her sister sought to tear her from such prospects and such\r
+realities as these, what would have been her sensations? They could have\r
+been understood only by her mother, who might have felt nearly the same.\r
+Lydia's going to Brighton was all that consoled her for her melancholy\r
+conviction of her husband's never intending to go there himself.\r
+\r
+But they were entirely ignorant of what had passed; and their raptures\r
+continued, with little intermission, to the very day of Lydia's leaving\r
+home.\r
+\r
+Elizabeth was now to see Mr. Wickham for the last time. Having been\r
+frequently in company with him since her return, agitation was pretty\r
+well over; the agitations of former partiality entirely so. She had even\r
+learnt to detect, in the very gentleness which had first delighted\r
+her, an affectation and a sameness to disgust and weary. In his present\r
+behaviour to herself, moreover, she had a fresh source of displeasure,\r
+for the inclination he soon testified of renewing those intentions which\r
+had marked the early part of their acquaintance could only serve, after\r
+what had since passed, to provoke her. She lost all concern for him in\r
+finding herself thus selected as the object of such idle and frivolous\r
+gallantry; and while she steadily repressed it, could not but feel the\r
+reproof contained in his believing, that however long, and for whatever\r
+cause, his attentions had been withdrawn, her vanity would be gratified,\r
+and her preference secured at any time by their renewal.\r
+\r
+On the very last day of the regiment's remaining at Meryton, he dined,\r
+with other of the officers, at Longbourn; and so little was Elizabeth\r
+disposed to part from him in good humour, that on his making some\r
+inquiry as to the manner in which her time had passed at Hunsford, she\r
+mentioned Colonel Fitzwilliam's and Mr. Darcy's having both spent three\r
+weeks at Rosings, and asked him, if he was acquainted with the former.\r
+\r
+He looked surprised, displeased, alarmed; but with a moment's\r
+recollection and a returning smile, replied, that he had formerly seen\r
+him often; and, after observing that he was a very gentlemanlike man,\r
+asked her how she had liked him. Her answer was warmly in his favour.\r
+With an air of indifference he soon afterwards added:\r
+\r
+"How long did you say he was at Rosings?"\r
+\r
+"Nearly three weeks."\r
+\r
+"And you saw him frequently?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, almost every day."\r
+\r
+"His manners are very different from his cousin's."\r
+\r
+"Yes, very different. But I think Mr. Darcy improves upon acquaintance."\r
+\r
+"Indeed!" cried Mr. Wickham with a look which did not escape her. "And\r
+pray, may I ask?--" But checking himself, he added, in a gayer tone, "Is\r
+it in address that he improves? Has he deigned to add aught of civility\r
+to his ordinary style?--for I dare not hope," he continued in a lower\r
+and more serious tone, "that he is improved in essentials."\r
+\r
+"Oh, no!" said Elizabeth. "In essentials, I believe, he is very much\r
+what he ever was."\r
+\r
+While she spoke, Wickham looked as if scarcely knowing whether to\r
+rejoice over her words, or to distrust their meaning. There was a\r
+something in her countenance which made him listen with an apprehensive\r
+and anxious attention, while she added:\r
+\r
+"When I said that he improved on acquaintance, I did not mean that\r
+his mind or his manners were in a state of improvement, but that, from\r
+knowing him better, his disposition was better understood."\r
+\r
+Wickham's alarm now appeared in a heightened complexion and agitated\r
+look; for a few minutes he was silent, till, shaking off his\r
+embarrassment, he turned to her again, and said in the gentlest of\r
+accents:\r
+\r
+"You, who so well know my feeling towards Mr. Darcy, will readily\r
+comprehend how sincerely I must rejoice that he is wise enough to assume\r
+even the _appearance_ of what is right. His pride, in that direction,\r
+may be of service, if not to himself, to many others, for it must only\r
+deter him from such foul misconduct as I have suffered by. I only\r
+fear that the sort of cautiousness to which you, I imagine, have been\r
+alluding, is merely adopted on his visits to his aunt, of whose good\r
+opinion and judgement he stands much in awe. His fear of her has always\r
+operated, I know, when they were together; and a good deal is to be\r
+imputed to his wish of forwarding the match with Miss de Bourgh, which I\r
+am certain he has very much at heart."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth could not repress a smile at this, but she answered only by a\r
+slight inclination of the head. She saw that he wanted to engage her on\r
+the old subject of his grievances, and she was in no humour to indulge\r
+him. The rest of the evening passed with the _appearance_, on his\r
+side, of usual cheerfulness, but with no further attempt to distinguish\r
+Elizabeth; and they parted at last with mutual civility, and possibly a\r
+mutual desire of never meeting again.\r
+\r
+When the party broke up, Lydia returned with Mrs. Forster to Meryton,\r
+from whence they were to set out early the next morning. The separation\r
+between her and her family was rather noisy than pathetic. Kitty was the\r
+only one who shed tears; but she did weep from vexation and envy. Mrs.\r
+Bennet was diffuse in her good wishes for the felicity of her daughter,\r
+and impressive in her injunctions that she should not miss the\r
+opportunity of enjoying herself as much as possible--advice which\r
+there was every reason to believe would be well attended to; and in\r
+the clamorous happiness of Lydia herself in bidding farewell, the more\r
+gentle adieus of her sisters were uttered without being heard.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 42\r
+\r
+\r
+Had Elizabeth's opinion been all drawn from her own family, she could\r
+not have formed a very pleasing opinion of conjugal felicity or domestic\r
+comfort. Her father, captivated by youth and beauty, and that appearance\r
+of good humour which youth and beauty generally give, had married a\r
+woman whose weak understanding and illiberal mind had very early in\r
+their marriage put an end to all real affection for her. Respect,\r
+esteem, and confidence had vanished for ever; and all his views\r
+of domestic happiness were overthrown. But Mr. Bennet was not of\r
+a disposition to seek comfort for the disappointment which his own\r
+imprudence had brought on, in any of those pleasures which too often\r
+console the unfortunate for their folly or their vice. He was fond of\r
+the country and of books; and from these tastes had arisen his principal\r
+enjoyments. To his wife he was very little otherwise indebted, than as\r
+her ignorance and folly had contributed to his amusement. This is not\r
+the sort of happiness which a man would in general wish to owe to his\r
+wife; but where other powers of entertainment are wanting, the true\r
+philosopher will derive benefit from such as are given.\r
+\r
+Elizabeth, however, had never been blind to the impropriety of her\r
+father's behaviour as a husband. She had always seen it with pain; but\r
+respecting his abilities, and grateful for his affectionate treatment of\r
+herself, she endeavoured to forget what she could not overlook, and to\r
+banish from her thoughts that continual breach of conjugal obligation\r
+and decorum which, in exposing his wife to the contempt of her own\r
+children, was so highly reprehensible. But she had never felt so\r
+strongly as now the disadvantages which must attend the children of so\r
+unsuitable a marriage, nor ever been so fully aware of the evils arising\r
+from so ill-judged a direction of talents; talents, which, rightly used,\r
+might at least have preserved the respectability of his daughters, even\r
+if incapable of enlarging the mind of his wife.\r
+\r
+When Elizabeth had rejoiced over Wickham's departure she found little\r
+other cause for satisfaction in the loss of the regiment. Their parties\r
+abroad were less varied than before, and at home she had a mother and\r
+sister whose constant repinings at the dullness of everything around\r
+them threw a real gloom over their domestic circle; and, though Kitty\r
+might in time regain her natural degree of sense, since the disturbers\r
+of her brain were removed, her other sister, from whose disposition\r
+greater evil might be apprehended, was likely to be hardened in all\r
+her folly and assurance by a situation of such double danger as a\r
+watering-place and a camp. Upon the whole, therefore, she found, what\r
+has been sometimes found before, that an event to which she had been\r
+looking with impatient desire did not, in taking place, bring all the\r
+satisfaction she had promised herself. It was consequently necessary to\r
+name some other period for the commencement of actual felicity--to have\r
+some other point on which her wishes and hopes might be fixed, and by\r
+again enjoying the pleasure of anticipation, console herself for the\r
+present, and prepare for another disappointment. Her tour to the Lakes\r
+was now the object of her happiest thoughts; it was her best consolation\r
+for all the uncomfortable hours which the discontentedness of her mother\r
+and Kitty made inevitable; and could she have included Jane in the\r
+scheme, every part of it would have been perfect.\r
+\r
+"But it is fortunate," thought she, "that I have something to wish for.\r
+Were the whole arrangement complete, my disappointment would be certain.\r
+But here, by carrying with me one ceaseless source of regret in my\r
+sister's absence, I may reasonably hope to have all my expectations of\r
+pleasure realised. A scheme of which every part promises delight can\r
+never be successful; and general disappointment is only warded off by\r
+the defence of some little peculiar vexation."\r
+\r
+When Lydia went away she promised to write very often and very minutely\r
+to her mother and Kitty; but her letters were always long expected, and\r
+always very short. Those to her mother contained little else than that\r
+they were just returned from the library, where such and such officers\r
+had attended them, and where she had seen such beautiful ornaments as\r
+made her quite wild; that she had a new gown, or a new parasol, which\r
+she would have described more fully, but was obliged to leave off in a\r
+violent hurry, as Mrs. Forster called her, and they were going off to\r
+the camp; and from her correspondence with her sister, there was still\r
+less to be learnt--for her letters to Kitty, though rather longer, were\r
+much too full of lines under the words to be made public.\r
+\r
+After the first fortnight or three weeks of her absence, health, good\r
+humour, and cheerfulness began to reappear at Longbourn. Everything wore\r
+a happier aspect. The families who had been in town for the winter came\r
+back again, and summer finery and summer engagements arose. Mrs. Bennet\r
+was restored to her usual querulous serenity; and, by the middle of\r
+June, Kitty was so much recovered as to be able to enter Meryton without\r
+tears; an event of such happy promise as to make Elizabeth hope that by\r
+the following Christmas she might be so tolerably reasonable as not to\r
+mention an officer above once a day, unless, by some cruel and malicious\r
+arrangement at the War Office, another regiment should be quartered in\r
+Meryton.\r
+\r
+The time fixed for the beginning of their northern tour was now fast\r
+approaching, and a fortnight only was wanting of it, when a letter\r
+arrived from Mrs. Gardiner, which at once delayed its commencement and\r
+curtailed its extent. Mr. Gardiner would be prevented by business from\r
+setting out till a fortnight later in July, and must be in London again\r
+within a month, and as that left too short a period for them to go so\r
+far, and see so much as they had proposed, or at least to see it with\r
+the leisure and comfort they had built on, they were obliged to give up\r
+the Lakes, and substitute a more contracted tour, and, according to the\r
+present plan, were to go no farther northwards than Derbyshire. In that\r
+county there was enough to be seen to occupy the chief of their three\r
+weeks; and to Mrs. Gardiner it had a peculiarly strong attraction. The\r
+town where she had formerly passed some years of her life, and where\r
+they were now to spend a few days, was probably as great an object of\r
+her curiosity as all the celebrated beauties of Matlock, Chatsworth,\r
+Dovedale, or the Peak.\r
+\r
+Elizabeth was excessively disappointed; she had set her heart on seeing\r
+the Lakes, and still thought there might have been time enough. But it\r
+was her business to be satisfied--and certainly her temper to be happy;\r
+and all was soon right again.\r
+\r
+With the mention of Derbyshire there were many ideas connected. It was\r
+impossible for her to see the word without thinking of Pemberley and its\r
+owner. "But surely," said she, "I may enter his county with impunity,\r
+and rob it of a few petrified spars without his perceiving me."\r
+\r
+The period of expectation was now doubled. Four weeks were to pass away\r
+before her uncle and aunt's arrival. But they did pass away, and Mr.\r
+and Mrs. Gardiner, with their four children, did at length appear at\r
+Longbourn. The children, two girls of six and eight years old, and two\r
+younger boys, were to be left under the particular care of their\r
+cousin Jane, who was the general favourite, and whose steady sense and\r
+sweetness of temper exactly adapted her for attending to them in every\r
+way--teaching them, playing with them, and loving them.\r
+\r
+The Gardiners stayed only one night at Longbourn, and set off the\r
+next morning with Elizabeth in pursuit of novelty and amusement.\r
+One enjoyment was certain--that of suitableness of companions;\r
+a suitableness which comprehended health and temper to bear\r
+inconveniences--cheerfulness to enhance every pleasure--and affection\r
+and intelligence, which might supply it among themselves if there were\r
+disappointments abroad.\r
+\r
+It is not the object of this work to give a description of Derbyshire,\r
+nor of any of the remarkable places through which their route thither\r
+lay; Oxford, Blenheim, Warwick, Kenilworth, Birmingham, etc. are\r
+sufficiently known. A small part of Derbyshire is all the present\r
+concern. To the little town of Lambton, the scene of Mrs. Gardiner's\r
+former residence, and where she had lately learned some acquaintance\r
+still remained, they bent their steps, after having seen all the\r
+principal wonders of the country; and within five miles of Lambton,\r
+Elizabeth found from her aunt that Pemberley was situated. It was not\r
+in their direct road, nor more than a mile or two out of it. In\r
+talking over their route the evening before, Mrs. Gardiner expressed\r
+an inclination to see the place again. Mr. Gardiner declared his\r
+willingness, and Elizabeth was applied to for her approbation.\r
+\r
+"My love, should not you like to see a place of which you have heard\r
+so much?" said her aunt; "a place, too, with which so many of your\r
+acquaintances are connected. Wickham passed all his youth there, you\r
+know."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth was distressed. She felt that she had no business at\r
+Pemberley, and was obliged to assume a disinclination for seeing it. She\r
+must own that she was tired of seeing great houses; after going over so\r
+many, she really had no pleasure in fine carpets or satin curtains.\r
+\r
+Mrs. Gardiner abused her stupidity. "If it were merely a fine house\r
+richly furnished," said she, "I should not care about it myself; but\r
+the grounds are delightful. They have some of the finest woods in the\r
+country."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth said no more--but her mind could not acquiesce. The\r
+possibility of meeting Mr. Darcy, while viewing the place, instantly\r
+occurred. It would be dreadful! She blushed at the very idea, and\r
+thought it would be better to speak openly to her aunt than to run such\r
+a risk. But against this there were objections; and she finally resolved\r
+that it could be the last resource, if her private inquiries to the\r
+absence of the family were unfavourably answered.\r
+\r
+Accordingly, when she retired at night, she asked the chambermaid\r
+whether Pemberley were not a very fine place? what was the name of its\r
+proprietor? and, with no little alarm, whether the family were down for\r
+the summer? A most welcome negative followed the last question--and her\r
+alarms now being removed, she was at leisure to feel a great deal of\r
+curiosity to see the house herself; and when the subject was revived the\r
+next morning, and she was again applied to, could readily answer, and\r
+with a proper air of indifference, that she had not really any dislike\r
+to the scheme. To Pemberley, therefore, they were to go.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 43\r
+\r
+\r
+Elizabeth, as they drove along, watched for the first appearance of\r
+Pemberley Woods with some perturbation; and when at length they turned\r
+in at the lodge, her spirits were in a high flutter.\r
+\r
+The park was very large, and contained great variety of ground. They\r
+entered it in one of its lowest points, and drove for some time through\r
+a beautiful wood stretching over a wide extent.\r
+\r
+Elizabeth's mind was too full for conversation, but she saw and admired\r
+every remarkable spot and point of view. They gradually ascended for\r
+half-a-mile, and then found themselves at the top of a considerable\r
+eminence, where the wood ceased, and the eye was instantly caught by\r
+Pemberley House, situated on the opposite side of a valley, into which\r
+the road with some abruptness wound. It was a large, handsome stone\r
+building, standing well on rising ground, and backed by a ridge of\r
+high woody hills; and in front, a stream of some natural importance was\r
+swelled into greater, but without any artificial appearance. Its banks\r
+were neither formal nor falsely adorned. Elizabeth was delighted. She\r
+had never seen a place for which nature had done more, or where natural\r
+beauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste. They were\r
+all of them warm in their admiration; and at that moment she felt that\r
+to be mistress of Pemberley might be something!\r
+\r
+They descended the hill, crossed the bridge, and drove to the door; and,\r
+while examining the nearer aspect of the house, all her apprehension of\r
+meeting its owner returned. She dreaded lest the chambermaid had been\r
+mistaken. On applying to see the place, they were admitted into the\r
+hall; and Elizabeth, as they waited for the housekeeper, had leisure to\r
+wonder at her being where she was.\r
+\r
+The housekeeper came; a respectable-looking elderly woman, much less\r
+fine, and more civil, than she had any notion of finding her. They\r
+followed her into the dining-parlour. It was a large, well proportioned\r
+room, handsomely fitted up. Elizabeth, after slightly surveying it, went\r
+to a window to enjoy its prospect. The hill, crowned with wood, which\r
+they had descended, receiving increased abruptness from the distance,\r
+was a beautiful object. Every disposition of the ground was good; and\r
+she looked on the whole scene, the river, the trees scattered on its\r
+banks and the winding of the valley, as far as she could trace it,\r
+with delight. As they passed into other rooms these objects were taking\r
+different positions; but from every window there were beauties to be\r
+seen. The rooms were lofty and handsome, and their furniture suitable to\r
+the fortune of its proprietor; but Elizabeth saw, with admiration of\r
+his taste, that it was neither gaudy nor uselessly fine; with less of\r
+splendour, and more real elegance, than the furniture of Rosings.\r
+\r
+"And of this place," thought she, "I might have been mistress! With\r
+these rooms I might now have been familiarly acquainted! Instead of\r
+viewing them as a stranger, I might have rejoiced in them as my own, and\r
+welcomed to them as visitors my uncle and aunt. But no,"--recollecting\r
+herself--"that could never be; my uncle and aunt would have been lost to\r
+me; I should not have been allowed to invite them."\r
+\r
+This was a lucky recollection--it saved her from something very like\r
+regret.\r
+\r
+She longed to inquire of the housekeeper whether her master was really\r
+absent, but had not the courage for it. At length however, the question\r
+was asked by her uncle; and she turned away with alarm, while Mrs.\r
+Reynolds replied that he was, adding, "But we expect him to-morrow, with\r
+a large party of friends." How rejoiced was Elizabeth that their own\r
+journey had not by any circumstance been delayed a day!\r
+\r
+Her aunt now called her to look at a picture. She approached and saw the\r
+likeness of Mr. Wickham, suspended, amongst several other miniatures,\r
+over the mantelpiece. Her aunt asked her, smilingly, how she liked it.\r
+The housekeeper came forward, and told them it was a picture of a young\r
+gentleman, the son of her late master's steward, who had been brought\r
+up by him at his own expense. "He is now gone into the army," she added;\r
+"but I am afraid he has turned out very wild."\r
+\r
+Mrs. Gardiner looked at her niece with a smile, but Elizabeth could not\r
+return it.\r
+\r
+"And that," said Mrs. Reynolds, pointing to another of the miniatures,\r
+"is my master--and very like him. It was drawn at the same time as the\r
+other--about eight years ago."\r
+\r
+"I have heard much of your master's fine person," said Mrs. Gardiner,\r
+looking at the picture; "it is a handsome face. But, Lizzy, you can tell\r
+us whether it is like or not."\r
+\r
+Mrs. Reynolds respect for Elizabeth seemed to increase on this\r
+intimation of her knowing her master.\r
+\r
+"Does that young lady know Mr. Darcy?"\r
+\r
+Elizabeth coloured, and said: "A little."\r
+\r
+"And do not you think him a very handsome gentleman, ma'am?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, very handsome."\r
+\r
+"I am sure I know none so handsome; but in the gallery up stairs you\r
+will see a finer, larger picture of him than this. This room was my late\r
+master's favourite room, and these miniatures are just as they used to\r
+be then. He was very fond of them."\r
+\r
+This accounted to Elizabeth for Mr. Wickham's being among them.\r
+\r
+Mrs. Reynolds then directed their attention to one of Miss Darcy, drawn\r
+when she was only eight years old.\r
+\r
+"And is Miss Darcy as handsome as her brother?" said Mrs. Gardiner.\r
+\r
+"Oh! yes--the handsomest young lady that ever was seen; and so\r
+accomplished!--She plays and sings all day long. In the next room is\r
+a new instrument just come down for her--a present from my master; she\r
+comes here to-morrow with him."\r
+\r
+Mr. Gardiner, whose manners were very easy and pleasant, encouraged her\r
+communicativeness by his questions and remarks; Mrs. Reynolds, either\r
+by pride or attachment, had evidently great pleasure in talking of her\r
+master and his sister.\r
+\r
+"Is your master much at Pemberley in the course of the year?"\r
+\r
+"Not so much as I could wish, sir; but I dare say he may spend half his\r
+time here; and Miss Darcy is always down for the summer months."\r
+\r
+"Except," thought Elizabeth, "when she goes to Ramsgate."\r
+\r
+"If your master would marry, you might see more of him."\r
+\r
+"Yes, sir; but I do not know when _that_ will be. I do not know who is\r
+good enough for him."\r
+\r
+Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner smiled. Elizabeth could not help saying, "It is\r
+very much to his credit, I am sure, that you should think so."\r
+\r
+"I say no more than the truth, and everybody will say that knows him,"\r
+replied the other. Elizabeth thought this was going pretty far; and she\r
+listened with increasing astonishment as the housekeeper added, "I have\r
+never known a cross word from him in my life, and I have known him ever\r
+since he was four years old."\r
+\r
+This was praise, of all others most extraordinary, most opposite to her\r
+ideas. That he was not a good-tempered man had been her firmest opinion.\r
+Her keenest attention was awakened; she longed to hear more, and was\r
+grateful to her uncle for saying:\r
+\r
+"There are very few people of whom so much can be said. You are lucky in\r
+having such a master."\r
+\r
+"Yes, sir, I know I am. If I were to go through the world, I could\r
+not meet with a better. But I have always observed, that they who are\r
+good-natured when children, are good-natured when they grow up; and\r
+he was always the sweetest-tempered, most generous-hearted boy in the\r
+world."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth almost stared at her. "Can this be Mr. Darcy?" thought she.\r
+\r
+"His father was an excellent man," said Mrs. Gardiner.\r
+\r
+"Yes, ma'am, that he was indeed; and his son will be just like him--just\r
+as affable to the poor."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth listened, wondered, doubted, and was impatient for more. Mrs.\r
+Reynolds could interest her on no other point. She related the subjects\r
+of the pictures, the dimensions of the rooms, and the price of the\r
+furniture, in vain. Mr. Gardiner, highly amused by the kind of family\r
+prejudice to which he attributed her excessive commendation of her\r
+master, soon led again to the subject; and she dwelt with energy on his\r
+many merits as they proceeded together up the great staircase.\r
+\r
+"He is the best landlord, and the best master," said she, "that ever\r
+lived; not like the wild young men nowadays, who think of nothing but\r
+themselves. There is not one of his tenants or servants but will give\r
+him a good name. Some people call him proud; but I am sure I never saw\r
+anything of it. To my fancy, it is only because he does not rattle away\r
+like other young men."\r
+\r
+"In what an amiable light does this place him!" thought Elizabeth.\r
+\r
+"This fine account of him," whispered her aunt as they walked, "is not\r
+quite consistent with his behaviour to our poor friend."\r
+\r
+"Perhaps we might be deceived."\r
+\r
+"That is not very likely; our authority was too good."\r
+\r
+On reaching the spacious lobby above they were shown into a very pretty\r
+sitting-room, lately fitted up with greater elegance and lightness than\r
+the apartments below; and were informed that it was but just done to\r
+give pleasure to Miss Darcy, who had taken a liking to the room when\r
+last at Pemberley.\r
+\r
+"He is certainly a good brother," said Elizabeth, as she walked towards\r
+one of the windows.\r
+\r
+Mrs. Reynolds anticipated Miss Darcy's delight, when she should enter\r
+the room. "And this is always the way with him," she added. "Whatever\r
+can give his sister any pleasure is sure to be done in a moment. There\r
+is nothing he would not do for her."\r
+\r
+The picture-gallery, and two or three of the principal bedrooms, were\r
+all that remained to be shown. In the former were many good paintings;\r
+but Elizabeth knew nothing of the art; and from such as had been already\r
+visible below, she had willingly turned to look at some drawings of Miss\r
+Darcy's, in crayons, whose subjects were usually more interesting, and\r
+also more intelligible.\r
+\r
+In the gallery there were many family portraits, but they could have\r
+little to fix the attention of a stranger. Elizabeth walked in quest of\r
+the only face whose features would be known to her. At last it arrested\r
+her--and she beheld a striking resemblance to Mr. Darcy, with such a\r
+smile over the face as she remembered to have sometimes seen when he\r
+looked at her. She stood several minutes before the picture, in earnest\r
+contemplation, and returned to it again before they quitted the gallery.\r
+Mrs. Reynolds informed them that it had been taken in his father's\r
+lifetime.\r
+\r
+There was certainly at this moment, in Elizabeth's mind, a more gentle\r
+sensation towards the original than she had ever felt at the height of\r
+their acquaintance. The commendation bestowed on him by Mrs. Reynolds\r
+was of no trifling nature. What praise is more valuable than the praise\r
+of an intelligent servant? As a brother, a landlord, a master, she\r
+considered how many people's happiness were in his guardianship!--how\r
+much of pleasure or pain was it in his power to bestow!--how much of\r
+good or evil must be done by him! Every idea that had been brought\r
+forward by the housekeeper was favourable to his character, and as she\r
+stood before the canvas on which he was represented, and fixed his\r
+eyes upon herself, she thought of his regard with a deeper sentiment of\r
+gratitude than it had ever raised before; she remembered its warmth, and\r
+softened its impropriety of expression.\r
+\r
+When all of the house that was open to general inspection had been seen,\r
+they returned downstairs, and, taking leave of the housekeeper, were\r
+consigned over to the gardener, who met them at the hall-door.\r
+\r
+As they walked across the hall towards the river, Elizabeth turned back\r
+to look again; her uncle and aunt stopped also, and while the former\r
+was conjecturing as to the date of the building, the owner of it himself\r
+suddenly came forward from the road, which led behind it to the stables.\r
+\r
+They were within twenty yards of each other, and so abrupt was his\r
+appearance, that it was impossible to avoid his sight. Their eyes\r
+instantly met, and the cheeks of both were overspread with the deepest\r
+blush. He absolutely started, and for a moment seemed immovable from\r
+surprise; but shortly recovering himself, advanced towards the party,\r
+and spoke to Elizabeth, if not in terms of perfect composure, at least\r
+of perfect civility.\r
+\r
+She had instinctively turned away; but stopping on his approach,\r
+received his compliments with an embarrassment impossible to be\r
+overcome. Had his first appearance, or his resemblance to the picture\r
+they had just been examining, been insufficient to assure the other two\r
+that they now saw Mr. Darcy, the gardener's expression of surprise, on\r
+beholding his master, must immediately have told it. They stood a little\r
+aloof while he was talking to their niece, who, astonished and confused,\r
+scarcely dared lift her eyes to his face, and knew not what answer\r
+she returned to his civil inquiries after her family. Amazed at the\r
+alteration of his manner since they last parted, every sentence that\r
+he uttered was increasing her embarrassment; and every idea of the\r
+impropriety of her being found there recurring to her mind, the few\r
+minutes in which they continued were some of the most uncomfortable in\r
+her life. Nor did he seem much more at ease; when he spoke, his accent\r
+had none of its usual sedateness; and he repeated his inquiries as\r
+to the time of her having left Longbourn, and of her having stayed in\r
+Derbyshire, so often, and in so hurried a way, as plainly spoke the\r
+distraction of his thoughts.\r
+\r
+At length every idea seemed to fail him; and, after standing a few\r
+moments without saying a word, he suddenly recollected himself, and took\r
+leave.\r
+\r
+The others then joined her, and expressed admiration of his figure; but\r
+Elizabeth heard not a word, and wholly engrossed by her own feelings,\r
+followed them in silence. She was overpowered by shame and vexation. Her\r
+coming there was the most unfortunate, the most ill-judged thing in the\r
+world! How strange it must appear to him! In what a disgraceful light\r
+might it not strike so vain a man! It might seem as if she had purposely\r
+thrown herself in his way again! Oh! why did she come? Or, why did he\r
+thus come a day before he was expected? Had they been only ten minutes\r
+sooner, they should have been beyond the reach of his discrimination;\r
+for it was plain that he was that moment arrived--that moment alighted\r
+from his horse or his carriage. She blushed again and again over\r
+the perverseness of the meeting. And his behaviour, so strikingly\r
+altered--what could it mean? That he should even speak to her was\r
+amazing!--but to speak with such civility, to inquire after her family!\r
+Never in her life had she seen his manners so little dignified, never\r
+had he spoken with such gentleness as on this unexpected meeting. What\r
+a contrast did it offer to his last address in Rosings Park, when he put\r
+his letter into her hand! She knew not what to think, or how to account\r
+for it.\r
+\r
+They had now entered a beautiful walk by the side of the water, and\r
+every step was bringing forward a nobler fall of ground, or a finer\r
+reach of the woods to which they were approaching; but it was some time\r
+before Elizabeth was sensible of any of it; and, though she answered\r
+mechanically to the repeated appeals of her uncle and aunt, and\r
+seemed to direct her eyes to such objects as they pointed out, she\r
+distinguished no part of the scene. Her thoughts were all fixed on that\r
+one spot of Pemberley House, whichever it might be, where Mr. Darcy then\r
+was. She longed to know what at the moment was passing in his mind--in\r
+what manner he thought of her, and whether, in defiance of everything,\r
+she was still dear to him. Perhaps he had been civil only because he\r
+felt himself at ease; yet there had been _that_ in his voice which was\r
+not like ease. Whether he had felt more of pain or of pleasure in\r
+seeing her she could not tell, but he certainly had not seen her with\r
+composure.\r
+\r
+At length, however, the remarks of her companions on her absence of mind\r
+aroused her, and she felt the necessity of appearing more like herself.\r
+\r
+They entered the woods, and bidding adieu to the river for a while,\r
+ascended some of the higher grounds; when, in spots where the opening of\r
+the trees gave the eye power to wander, were many charming views of the\r
+valley, the opposite hills, with the long range of woods overspreading\r
+many, and occasionally part of the stream. Mr. Gardiner expressed a wish\r
+of going round the whole park, but feared it might be beyond a walk.\r
+With a triumphant smile they were told that it was ten miles round.\r
+It settled the matter; and they pursued the accustomed circuit; which\r
+brought them again, after some time, in a descent among hanging woods,\r
+to the edge of the water, and one of its narrowest parts. They crossed\r
+it by a simple bridge, in character with the general air of the scene;\r
+it was a spot less adorned than any they had yet visited; and the\r
+valley, here contracted into a glen, allowed room only for the stream,\r
+and a narrow walk amidst the rough coppice-wood which bordered it.\r
+Elizabeth longed to explore its windings; but when they had crossed the\r
+bridge, and perceived their distance from the house, Mrs. Gardiner,\r
+who was not a great walker, could go no farther, and thought only\r
+of returning to the carriage as quickly as possible. Her niece was,\r
+therefore, obliged to submit, and they took their way towards the house\r
+on the opposite side of the river, in the nearest direction; but their\r
+progress was slow, for Mr. Gardiner, though seldom able to indulge the\r
+taste, was very fond of fishing, and was so much engaged in watching the\r
+occasional appearance of some trout in the water, and talking to the\r
+man about them, that he advanced but little. Whilst wandering on in this\r
+slow manner, they were again surprised, and Elizabeth's astonishment\r
+was quite equal to what it had been at first, by the sight of Mr. Darcy\r
+approaching them, and at no great distance. The walk being here\r
+less sheltered than on the other side, allowed them to see him before\r
+they met. Elizabeth, however astonished, was at least more prepared\r
+for an interview than before, and resolved to appear and to speak with\r
+calmness, if he really intended to meet them. For a few moments, indeed,\r
+she felt that he would probably strike into some other path. The idea\r
+lasted while a turning in the walk concealed him from their view; the\r
+turning past, he was immediately before them. With a glance, she saw\r
+that he had lost none of his recent civility; and, to imitate his\r
+politeness, she began, as they met, to admire the beauty of the place;\r
+but she had not got beyond the words "delightful," and "charming," when\r
+some unlucky recollections obtruded, and she fancied that praise of\r
+Pemberley from her might be mischievously construed. Her colour changed,\r
+and she said no more.\r
+\r
+Mrs. Gardiner was standing a little behind; and on her pausing, he asked\r
+her if she would do him the honour of introducing him to her friends.\r
+This was a stroke of civility for which she was quite unprepared;\r
+and she could hardly suppress a smile at his being now seeking the\r
+acquaintance of some of those very people against whom his pride had\r
+revolted in his offer to herself. "What will be his surprise," thought\r
+she, "when he knows who they are? He takes them now for people of\r
+fashion."\r
+\r
+The introduction, however, was immediately made; and as she named their\r
+relationship to herself, she stole a sly look at him, to see how he bore\r
+it, and was not without the expectation of his decamping as fast as he\r
+could from such disgraceful companions. That he was _surprised_ by the\r
+connection was evident; he sustained it, however, with fortitude, and\r
+so far from going away, turned back with them, and entered into\r
+conversation with Mr. Gardiner. Elizabeth could not but be pleased,\r
+could not but triumph. It was consoling that he should know she had\r
+some relations for whom there was no need to blush. She listened most\r
+attentively to all that passed between them, and gloried in every\r
+expression, every sentence of her uncle, which marked his intelligence,\r
+his taste, or his good manners.\r
+\r
+The conversation soon turned upon fishing; and she heard Mr. Darcy\r
+invite him, with the greatest civility, to fish there as often as he\r
+chose while he continued in the neighbourhood, offering at the same time\r
+to supply him with fishing tackle, and pointing out those parts of\r
+the stream where there was usually most sport. Mrs. Gardiner, who was\r
+walking arm-in-arm with Elizabeth, gave her a look expressive of wonder.\r
+Elizabeth said nothing, but it gratified her exceedingly; the compliment\r
+must be all for herself. Her astonishment, however, was extreme, and\r
+continually was she repeating, "Why is he so altered? From what can\r
+it proceed? It cannot be for _me_--it cannot be for _my_ sake that his\r
+manners are thus softened. My reproofs at Hunsford could not work such a\r
+change as this. It is impossible that he should still love me."\r
+\r
+After walking some time in this way, the two ladies in front, the two\r
+gentlemen behind, on resuming their places, after descending to\r
+the brink of the river for the better inspection of some curious\r
+water-plant, there chanced to be a little alteration. It originated\r
+in Mrs. Gardiner, who, fatigued by the exercise of the morning, found\r
+Elizabeth's arm inadequate to her support, and consequently preferred\r
+her husband's. Mr. Darcy took her place by her niece, and they walked on\r
+together. After a short silence, the lady first spoke. She wished him\r
+to know that she had been assured of his absence before she came to the\r
+place, and accordingly began by observing, that his arrival had been\r
+very unexpected--"for your housekeeper," she added, "informed us that\r
+you would certainly not be here till to-morrow; and indeed, before we\r
+left Bakewell, we understood that you were not immediately expected\r
+in the country." He acknowledged the truth of it all, and said that\r
+business with his steward had occasioned his coming forward a few hours\r
+before the rest of the party with whom he had been travelling. "They\r
+will join me early to-morrow," he continued, "and among them are some\r
+who will claim an acquaintance with you--Mr. Bingley and his sisters."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth answered only by a slight bow. Her thoughts were instantly\r
+driven back to the time when Mr. Bingley's name had been the last\r
+mentioned between them; and, if she might judge by his complexion, _his_\r
+mind was not very differently engaged.\r
+\r
+"There is also one other person in the party," he continued after a\r
+pause, "who more particularly wishes to be known to you. Will you allow\r
+me, or do I ask too much, to introduce my sister to your acquaintance\r
+during your stay at Lambton?"\r
+\r
+The surprise of such an application was great indeed; it was too great\r
+for her to know in what manner she acceded to it. She immediately felt\r
+that whatever desire Miss Darcy might have of being acquainted with her\r
+must be the work of her brother, and, without looking farther, it was\r
+satisfactory; it was gratifying to know that his resentment had not made\r
+him think really ill of her.\r
+\r
+They now walked on in silence, each of them deep in thought. Elizabeth\r
+was not comfortable; that was impossible; but she was flattered and\r
+pleased. His wish of introducing his sister to her was a compliment of\r
+the highest kind. They soon outstripped the others, and when they had\r
+reached the carriage, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were half a quarter of a\r
+mile behind.\r
+\r
+He then asked her to walk into the house--but she declared herself not\r
+tired, and they stood together on the lawn. At such a time much might\r
+have been said, and silence was very awkward. She wanted to talk, but\r
+there seemed to be an embargo on every subject. At last she recollected\r
+that she had been travelling, and they talked of Matlock and Dove Dale\r
+with great perseverance. Yet time and her aunt moved slowly--and her\r
+patience and her ideas were nearly worn out before the tete-a-tete was\r
+over. On Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner's coming up they were all pressed to go\r
+into the house and take some refreshment; but this was declined, and\r
+they parted on each side with utmost politeness. Mr. Darcy handed the\r
+ladies into the carriage; and when it drove off, Elizabeth saw him\r
+walking slowly towards the house.\r
+\r
+The observations of her uncle and aunt now began; and each of them\r
+pronounced him to be infinitely superior to anything they had expected.\r
+"He is perfectly well behaved, polite, and unassuming," said her uncle.\r
+\r
+"There _is_ something a little stately in him, to be sure," replied her\r
+aunt, "but it is confined to his air, and is not unbecoming. I can now\r
+say with the housekeeper, that though some people may call him proud, I\r
+have seen nothing of it."\r
+\r
+"I was never more surprised than by his behaviour to us. It was more\r
+than civil; it was really attentive; and there was no necessity for such\r
+attention. His acquaintance with Elizabeth was very trifling."\r
+\r
+"To be sure, Lizzy," said her aunt, "he is not so handsome as Wickham;\r
+or, rather, he has not Wickham's countenance, for his features\r
+are perfectly good. But how came you to tell me that he was so\r
+disagreeable?"\r
+\r
+Elizabeth excused herself as well as she could; said that she had liked\r
+him better when they had met in Kent than before, and that she had never\r
+seen him so pleasant as this morning.\r
+\r
+"But perhaps he may be a little whimsical in his civilities," replied\r
+her uncle. "Your great men often are; and therefore I shall not take him\r
+at his word, as he might change his mind another day, and warn me off\r
+his grounds."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth felt that they had entirely misunderstood his character, but\r
+said nothing.\r
+\r
+"From what we have seen of him," continued Mrs. Gardiner, "I really\r
+should not have thought that he could have behaved in so cruel a way by\r
+anybody as he has done by poor Wickham. He has not an ill-natured look.\r
+On the contrary, there is something pleasing about his mouth when he\r
+speaks. And there is something of dignity in his countenance that would\r
+not give one an unfavourable idea of his heart. But, to be sure, the\r
+good lady who showed us his house did give him a most flaming character!\r
+I could hardly help laughing aloud sometimes. But he is a liberal\r
+master, I suppose, and _that_ in the eye of a servant comprehends every\r
+virtue."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth here felt herself called on to say something in vindication of\r
+his behaviour to Wickham; and therefore gave them to understand, in\r
+as guarded a manner as she could, that by what she had heard from\r
+his relations in Kent, his actions were capable of a very different\r
+construction; and that his character was by no means so faulty, nor\r
+Wickham's so amiable, as they had been considered in Hertfordshire. In\r
+confirmation of this, she related the particulars of all the pecuniary\r
+transactions in which they had been connected, without actually naming\r
+her authority, but stating it to be such as might be relied on.\r
+\r
+Mrs. Gardiner was surprised and concerned; but as they were now\r
+approaching the scene of her former pleasures, every idea gave way to\r
+the charm of recollection; and she was too much engaged in pointing out\r
+to her husband all the interesting spots in its environs to think of\r
+anything else. Fatigued as she had been by the morning's walk they\r
+had no sooner dined than she set off again in quest of her former\r
+acquaintance, and the evening was spent in the satisfactions of a\r
+intercourse renewed after many years' discontinuance.\r
+\r
+The occurrences of the day were too full of interest to leave Elizabeth\r
+much attention for any of these new friends; and she could do nothing\r
+but think, and think with wonder, of Mr. Darcy's civility, and, above\r
+all, of his wishing her to be acquainted with his sister.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 44\r
+\r
+\r
+Elizabeth had settled it that Mr. Darcy would bring his sister to visit\r
+her the very day after her reaching Pemberley; and was consequently\r
+resolved not to be out of sight of the inn the whole of that morning.\r
+But her conclusion was false; for on the very morning after their\r
+arrival at Lambton, these visitors came. They had been walking about the\r
+place with some of their new friends, and were just returning to the inn\r
+to dress themselves for dining with the same family, when the sound of a\r
+carriage drew them to a window, and they saw a gentleman and a lady in\r
+a curricle driving up the street. Elizabeth immediately recognizing\r
+the livery, guessed what it meant, and imparted no small degree of her\r
+surprise to her relations by acquainting them with the honour which she\r
+expected. Her uncle and aunt were all amazement; and the embarrassment\r
+of her manner as she spoke, joined to the circumstance itself, and many\r
+of the circumstances of the preceding day, opened to them a new idea on\r
+the business. Nothing had ever suggested it before, but they felt that\r
+there was no other way of accounting for such attentions from such a\r
+quarter than by supposing a partiality for their niece. While these\r
+newly-born notions were passing in their heads, the perturbation of\r
+Elizabeth's feelings was at every moment increasing. She was quite\r
+amazed at her own discomposure; but amongst other causes of disquiet,\r
+she dreaded lest the partiality of the brother should have said too much\r
+in her favour; and, more than commonly anxious to please, she naturally\r
+suspected that every power of pleasing would fail her.\r
+\r
+She retreated from the window, fearful of being seen; and as she walked\r
+up and down the room, endeavouring to compose herself, saw such looks of\r
+inquiring surprise in her uncle and aunt as made everything worse.\r
+\r
+Miss Darcy and her brother appeared, and this formidable introduction\r
+took place. With astonishment did Elizabeth see that her new\r
+acquaintance was at least as much embarrassed as herself. Since her\r
+being at Lambton, she had heard that Miss Darcy was exceedingly proud;\r
+but the observation of a very few minutes convinced her that she was\r
+only exceedingly shy. She found it difficult to obtain even a word from\r
+her beyond a monosyllable.\r
+\r
+Miss Darcy was tall, and on a larger scale than Elizabeth; and, though\r
+little more than sixteen, her figure was formed, and her appearance\r
+womanly and graceful. She was less handsome than her brother; but there\r
+was sense and good humour in her face, and her manners were perfectly\r
+unassuming and gentle. Elizabeth, who had expected to find in her as\r
+acute and unembarrassed an observer as ever Mr. Darcy had been, was much\r
+relieved by discerning such different feelings.\r
+\r
+They had not long been together before Mr. Darcy told her that Bingley\r
+was also coming to wait on her; and she had barely time to express her\r
+satisfaction, and prepare for such a visitor, when Bingley's quick\r
+step was heard on the stairs, and in a moment he entered the room. All\r
+Elizabeth's anger against him had been long done away; but had she still\r
+felt any, it could hardly have stood its ground against the unaffected\r
+cordiality with which he expressed himself on seeing her again. He\r
+inquired in a friendly, though general way, after her family, and looked\r
+and spoke with the same good-humoured ease that he had ever done.\r
+\r
+To Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner he was scarcely a less interesting personage\r
+than to herself. They had long wished to see him. The whole party before\r
+them, indeed, excited a lively attention. The suspicions which had just\r
+arisen of Mr. Darcy and their niece directed their observation towards\r
+each with an earnest though guarded inquiry; and they soon drew from\r
+those inquiries the full conviction that one of them at least knew\r
+what it was to love. Of the lady's sensations they remained a little\r
+in doubt; but that the gentleman was overflowing with admiration was\r
+evident enough.\r
+\r
+Elizabeth, on her side, had much to do. She wanted to ascertain the\r
+feelings of each of her visitors; she wanted to compose her own, and\r
+to make herself agreeable to all; and in the latter object, where she\r
+feared most to fail, she was most sure of success, for those to whom she\r
+endeavoured to give pleasure were prepossessed in her favour. Bingley\r
+was ready, Georgiana was eager, and Darcy determined, to be pleased.\r
+\r
+In seeing Bingley, her thoughts naturally flew to her sister; and, oh!\r
+how ardently did she long to know whether any of his were directed in\r
+a like manner. Sometimes she could fancy that he talked less than on\r
+former occasions, and once or twice pleased herself with the notion\r
+that, as he looked at her, he was trying to trace a resemblance. But,\r
+though this might be imaginary, she could not be deceived as to his\r
+behaviour to Miss Darcy, who had been set up as a rival to Jane. No look\r
+appeared on either side that spoke particular regard. Nothing occurred\r
+between them that could justify the hopes of his sister. On this point\r
+she was soon satisfied; and two or three little circumstances occurred\r
+ere they parted, which, in her anxious interpretation, denoted a\r
+recollection of Jane not untinctured by tenderness, and a wish of saying\r
+more that might lead to the mention of her, had he dared. He observed\r
+to her, at a moment when the others were talking together, and in a tone\r
+which had something of real regret, that it "was a very long time since\r
+he had had the pleasure of seeing her;" and, before she could reply,\r
+he added, "It is above eight months. We have not met since the 26th of\r
+November, when we were all dancing together at Netherfield."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth was pleased to find his memory so exact; and he afterwards\r
+took occasion to ask her, when unattended to by any of the rest, whether\r
+_all_ her sisters were at Longbourn. There was not much in the question,\r
+nor in the preceding remark; but there was a look and a manner which\r
+gave them meaning.\r
+\r
+It was not often that she could turn her eyes on Mr. Darcy himself;\r
+but, whenever she did catch a glimpse, she saw an expression of general\r
+complaisance, and in all that he said she heard an accent so removed\r
+from _hauteur_ or disdain of his companions, as convinced her that\r
+the improvement of manners which she had yesterday witnessed however\r
+temporary its existence might prove, had at least outlived one day. When\r
+she saw him thus seeking the acquaintance and courting the good opinion\r
+of people with whom any intercourse a few months ago would have been a\r
+disgrace--when she saw him thus civil, not only to herself, but to the\r
+very relations whom he had openly disdained, and recollected their last\r
+lively scene in Hunsford Parsonage--the difference, the change was\r
+so great, and struck so forcibly on her mind, that she could hardly\r
+restrain her astonishment from being visible. Never, even in the company\r
+of his dear friends at Netherfield, or his dignified relations\r
+at Rosings, had she seen him so desirous to please, so free from\r
+self-consequence or unbending reserve, as now, when no importance\r
+could result from the success of his endeavours, and when even the\r
+acquaintance of those to whom his attentions were addressed would draw\r
+down the ridicule and censure of the ladies both of Netherfield and\r
+Rosings.\r
+\r
+Their visitors stayed with them above half-an-hour; and when they arose\r
+to depart, Mr. Darcy called on his sister to join him in expressing\r
+their wish of seeing Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, and Miss Bennet, to dinner\r
+at Pemberley, before they left the country. Miss Darcy, though with a\r
+diffidence which marked her little in the habit of giving invitations,\r
+readily obeyed. Mrs. Gardiner looked at her niece, desirous of knowing\r
+how _she_, whom the invitation most concerned, felt disposed as to its\r
+acceptance, but Elizabeth had turned away her head. Presuming however,\r
+that this studied avoidance spoke rather a momentary embarrassment than\r
+any dislike of the proposal, and seeing in her husband, who was fond of\r
+society, a perfect willingness to accept it, she ventured to engage for\r
+her attendance, and the day after the next was fixed on.\r
+\r
+Bingley expressed great pleasure in the certainty of seeing Elizabeth\r
+again, having still a great deal to say to her, and many inquiries to\r
+make after all their Hertfordshire friends. Elizabeth, construing all\r
+this into a wish of hearing her speak of her sister, was pleased, and on\r
+this account, as well as some others, found herself, when their\r
+visitors left them, capable of considering the last half-hour with some\r
+satisfaction, though while it was passing, the enjoyment of it had been\r
+little. Eager to be alone, and fearful of inquiries or hints from her\r
+uncle and aunt, she stayed with them only long enough to hear their\r
+favourable opinion of Bingley, and then hurried away to dress.\r
+\r
+But she had no reason to fear Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner's curiosity; it was\r
+not their wish to force her communication. It was evident that she was\r
+much better acquainted with Mr. Darcy than they had before any idea of;\r
+it was evident that he was very much in love with her. They saw much to\r
+interest, but nothing to justify inquiry.\r
+\r
+Of Mr. Darcy it was now a matter of anxiety to think well; and, as far\r
+as their acquaintance reached, there was no fault to find. They could\r
+not be untouched by his politeness; and had they drawn his character\r
+from their own feelings and his servant's report, without any reference\r
+to any other account, the circle in Hertfordshire to which he was known\r
+would not have recognized it for Mr. Darcy. There was now an interest,\r
+however, in believing the housekeeper; and they soon became sensible\r
+that the authority of a servant who had known him since he was four\r
+years old, and whose own manners indicated respectability, was not to be\r
+hastily rejected. Neither had anything occurred in the intelligence of\r
+their Lambton friends that could materially lessen its weight. They had\r
+nothing to accuse him of but pride; pride he probably had, and if not,\r
+it would certainly be imputed by the inhabitants of a small market-town\r
+where the family did not visit. It was acknowledged, however, that he\r
+was a liberal man, and did much good among the poor.\r
+\r
+With respect to Wickham, the travellers soon found that he was not held\r
+there in much estimation; for though the chief of his concerns with the\r
+son of his patron were imperfectly understood, it was yet a well-known\r
+fact that, on his quitting Derbyshire, he had left many debts behind\r
+him, which Mr. Darcy afterwards discharged.\r
+\r
+As for Elizabeth, her thoughts were at Pemberley this evening more than\r
+the last; and the evening, though as it passed it seemed long, was not\r
+long enough to determine her feelings towards _one_ in that mansion;\r
+and she lay awake two whole hours endeavouring to make them out. She\r
+certainly did not hate him. No; hatred had vanished long ago, and she\r
+had almost as long been ashamed of ever feeling a dislike against him,\r
+that could be so called. The respect created by the conviction of his\r
+valuable qualities, though at first unwillingly admitted, had for some\r
+time ceased to be repugnant to her feeling; and it was now heightened\r
+into somewhat of a friendlier nature, by the testimony so highly in\r
+his favour, and bringing forward his disposition in so amiable a light,\r
+which yesterday had produced. But above all, above respect and esteem,\r
+there was a motive within her of goodwill which could not be overlooked.\r
+It was gratitude; gratitude, not merely for having once loved her,\r
+but for loving her still well enough to forgive all the petulance and\r
+acrimony of her manner in rejecting him, and all the unjust accusations\r
+accompanying her rejection. He who, she had been persuaded, would avoid\r
+her as his greatest enemy, seemed, on this accidental meeting, most\r
+eager to preserve the acquaintance, and without any indelicate display\r
+of regard, or any peculiarity of manner, where their two selves only\r
+were concerned, was soliciting the good opinion of her friends, and bent\r
+on making her known to his sister. Such a change in a man of so much\r
+pride exciting not only astonishment but gratitude--for to love, ardent\r
+love, it must be attributed; and as such its impression on her was of a\r
+sort to be encouraged, as by no means unpleasing, though it could not be\r
+exactly defined. She respected, she esteemed, she was grateful to him,\r
+she felt a real interest in his welfare; and she only wanted to know how\r
+far she wished that welfare to depend upon herself, and how far it would\r
+be for the happiness of both that she should employ the power, which her\r
+fancy told her she still possessed, of bringing on her the renewal of\r
+his addresses.\r
+\r
+It had been settled in the evening between the aunt and the niece, that\r
+such a striking civility as Miss Darcy's in coming to see them on the\r
+very day of her arrival at Pemberley, for she had reached it only to a\r
+late breakfast, ought to be imitated, though it could not be equalled,\r
+by some exertion of politeness on their side; and, consequently, that\r
+it would be highly expedient to wait on her at Pemberley the following\r
+morning. They were, therefore, to go. Elizabeth was pleased; though when\r
+she asked herself the reason, she had very little to say in reply.\r
+\r
+Mr. Gardiner left them soon after breakfast. The fishing scheme had been\r
+renewed the day before, and a positive engagement made of his meeting\r
+some of the gentlemen at Pemberley before noon.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 45\r
+\r
+\r
+Convinced as Elizabeth now was that Miss Bingley's dislike of her had\r
+originated in jealousy, she could not help feeling how unwelcome her\r
+appearance at Pemberley must be to her, and was curious to know with how\r
+much civility on that lady's side the acquaintance would now be renewed.\r
+\r
+On reaching the house, they were shown through the hall into the saloon,\r
+whose northern aspect rendered it delightful for summer. Its windows\r
+opening to the ground, admitted a most refreshing view of the high woody\r
+hills behind the house, and of the beautiful oaks and Spanish chestnuts\r
+which were scattered over the intermediate lawn.\r
+\r
+In this house they were received by Miss Darcy, who was sitting there\r
+with Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley, and the lady with whom she lived in\r
+London. Georgiana's reception of them was very civil, but attended with\r
+all the embarrassment which, though proceeding from shyness and the fear\r
+of doing wrong, would easily give to those who felt themselves inferior\r
+the belief of her being proud and reserved. Mrs. Gardiner and her niece,\r
+however, did her justice, and pitied her.\r
+\r
+By Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley they were noticed only by a curtsey; and,\r
+on their being seated, a pause, awkward as such pauses must always be,\r
+succeeded for a few moments. It was first broken by Mrs. Annesley, a\r
+genteel, agreeable-looking woman, whose endeavour to introduce some kind\r
+of discourse proved her to be more truly well-bred than either of the\r
+others; and between her and Mrs. Gardiner, with occasional help from\r
+Elizabeth, the conversation was carried on. Miss Darcy looked as if she\r
+wished for courage enough to join in it; and sometimes did venture a\r
+short sentence when there was least danger of its being heard.\r
+\r
+Elizabeth soon saw that she was herself closely watched by Miss Bingley,\r
+and that she could not speak a word, especially to Miss Darcy, without\r
+calling her attention. This observation would not have prevented her\r
+from trying to talk to the latter, had they not been seated at an\r
+inconvenient distance; but she was not sorry to be spared the necessity\r
+of saying much. Her own thoughts were employing her. She expected every\r
+moment that some of the gentlemen would enter the room. She wished, she\r
+feared that the master of the house might be amongst them; and whether\r
+she wished or feared it most, she could scarcely determine. After\r
+sitting in this manner a quarter of an hour without hearing Miss\r
+Bingley's voice, Elizabeth was roused by receiving from her a cold\r
+inquiry after the health of her family. She answered with equal\r
+indifference and brevity, and the other said no more.\r
+\r
+The next variation which their visit afforded was produced by the\r
+entrance of servants with cold meat, cake, and a variety of all the\r
+finest fruits in season; but this did not take place till after many\r
+a significant look and smile from Mrs. Annesley to Miss Darcy had been\r
+given, to remind her of her post. There was now employment for the whole\r
+party--for though they could not all talk, they could all eat; and the\r
+beautiful pyramids of grapes, nectarines, and peaches soon collected\r
+them round the table.\r
+\r
+While thus engaged, Elizabeth had a fair opportunity of deciding whether\r
+she most feared or wished for the appearance of Mr. Darcy, by the\r
+feelings which prevailed on his entering the room; and then, though but\r
+a moment before she had believed her wishes to predominate, she began to\r
+regret that he came.\r
+\r
+He had been some time with Mr. Gardiner, who, with two or three other\r
+gentlemen from the house, was engaged by the river, and had left him\r
+only on learning that the ladies of the family intended a visit to\r
+Georgiana that morning. No sooner did he appear than Elizabeth wisely\r
+resolved to be perfectly easy and unembarrassed; a resolution the more\r
+necessary to be made, but perhaps not the more easily kept, because she\r
+saw that the suspicions of the whole party were awakened against them,\r
+and that there was scarcely an eye which did not watch his behaviour\r
+when he first came into the room. In no countenance was attentive\r
+curiosity so strongly marked as in Miss Bingley's, in spite of the\r
+smiles which overspread her face whenever she spoke to one of its\r
+objects; for jealousy had not yet made her desperate, and her attentions\r
+to Mr. Darcy were by no means over. Miss Darcy, on her brother's\r
+entrance, exerted herself much more to talk, and Elizabeth saw that he\r
+was anxious for his sister and herself to get acquainted, and forwarded\r
+as much as possible, every attempt at conversation on either side. Miss\r
+Bingley saw all this likewise; and, in the imprudence of anger, took the\r
+first opportunity of saying, with sneering civility:\r
+\r
+"Pray, Miss Eliza, are not the ----shire Militia removed from Meryton?\r
+They must be a great loss to _your_ family."\r
+\r
+In Darcy's presence she dared not mention Wickham's name; but Elizabeth\r
+instantly comprehended that he was uppermost in her thoughts; and the\r
+various recollections connected with him gave her a moment's distress;\r
+but exerting herself vigorously to repel the ill-natured attack, she\r
+presently answered the question in a tolerably detached tone. While\r
+she spoke, an involuntary glance showed her Darcy, with a heightened\r
+complexion, earnestly looking at her, and his sister overcome with\r
+confusion, and unable to lift up her eyes. Had Miss Bingley known what\r
+pain she was then giving her beloved friend, she undoubtedly would\r
+have refrained from the hint; but she had merely intended to discompose\r
+Elizabeth by bringing forward the idea of a man to whom she believed\r
+her partial, to make her betray a sensibility which might injure her in\r
+Darcy's opinion, and, perhaps, to remind the latter of all the follies\r
+and absurdities by which some part of her family were connected\r
+with that corps. Not a syllable had ever reached her of Miss Darcy's\r
+meditated elopement. To no creature had it been revealed, where secrecy\r
+was possible, except to Elizabeth; and from all Bingley's connections\r
+her brother was particularly anxious to conceal it, from the very\r
+wish which Elizabeth had long ago attributed to him, of their becoming\r
+hereafter her own. He had certainly formed such a plan, and without\r
+meaning that it should affect his endeavour to separate him from Miss\r
+Bennet, it is probable that it might add something to his lively concern\r
+for the welfare of his friend.\r
+\r
+Elizabeth's collected behaviour, however, soon quieted his emotion; and\r
+as Miss Bingley, vexed and disappointed, dared not approach nearer to\r
+Wickham, Georgiana also recovered in time, though not enough to be able\r
+to speak any more. Her brother, whose eye she feared to meet, scarcely\r
+recollected her interest in the affair, and the very circumstance which\r
+had been designed to turn his thoughts from Elizabeth seemed to have\r
+fixed them on her more and more cheerfully.\r
+\r
+Their visit did not continue long after the question and answer above\r
+mentioned; and while Mr. Darcy was attending them to their carriage Miss\r
+Bingley was venting her feelings in criticisms on Elizabeth's person,\r
+behaviour, and dress. But Georgiana would not join her. Her brother's\r
+recommendation was enough to ensure her favour; his judgement could not\r
+err. And he had spoken in such terms of Elizabeth as to leave Georgiana\r
+without the power of finding her otherwise than lovely and amiable. When\r
+Darcy returned to the saloon, Miss Bingley could not help repeating to\r
+him some part of what she had been saying to his sister.\r
+\r
+"How very ill Miss Eliza Bennet looks this morning, Mr. Darcy," she\r
+cried; "I never in my life saw anyone so much altered as she is since\r
+the winter. She is grown so brown and coarse! Louisa and I were agreeing\r
+that we should not have known her again."\r
+\r
+However little Mr. Darcy might have liked such an address, he contented\r
+himself with coolly replying that he perceived no other alteration than\r
+her being rather tanned, no miraculous consequence of travelling in the\r
+summer.\r
+\r
+"For my own part," she rejoined, "I must confess that I never could\r
+see any beauty in her. Her face is too thin; her complexion has no\r
+brilliancy; and her features are not at all handsome. Her nose\r
+wants character--there is nothing marked in its lines. Her teeth are\r
+tolerable, but not out of the common way; and as for her eyes,\r
+which have sometimes been called so fine, I could never see anything\r
+extraordinary in them. They have a sharp, shrewish look, which I do\r
+not like at all; and in her air altogether there is a self-sufficiency\r
+without fashion, which is intolerable."\r
+\r
+Persuaded as Miss Bingley was that Darcy admired Elizabeth, this was not\r
+the best method of recommending herself; but angry people are not always\r
+wise; and in seeing him at last look somewhat nettled, she had all the\r
+success she expected. He was resolutely silent, however, and, from a\r
+determination of making him speak, she continued:\r
+\r
+"I remember, when we first knew her in Hertfordshire, how amazed we all\r
+were to find that she was a reputed beauty; and I particularly recollect\r
+your saying one night, after they had been dining at Netherfield, '_She_\r
+a beauty!--I should as soon call her mother a wit.' But afterwards she\r
+seemed to improve on you, and I believe you thought her rather pretty at\r
+one time."\r
+\r
+"Yes," replied Darcy, who could contain himself no longer, "but _that_\r
+was only when I first saw her, for it is many months since I have\r
+considered her as one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance."\r
+\r
+He then went away, and Miss Bingley was left to all the satisfaction of\r
+having forced him to say what gave no one any pain but herself.\r
+\r
+Mrs. Gardiner and Elizabeth talked of all that had occurred during their\r
+visit, as they returned, except what had particularly interested them\r
+both. The look and behaviour of everybody they had seen were discussed,\r
+except of the person who had mostly engaged their attention. They talked\r
+of his sister, his friends, his house, his fruit--of everything but\r
+himself; yet Elizabeth was longing to know what Mrs. Gardiner thought of\r
+him, and Mrs. Gardiner would have been highly gratified by her niece's\r
+beginning the subject.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 46\r
+\r
+\r
+Elizabeth had been a good deal disappointed in not finding a letter from\r
+Jane on their first arrival at Lambton; and this disappointment had been\r
+renewed on each of the mornings that had now been spent there; but\r
+on the third her repining was over, and her sister justified, by the\r
+receipt of two letters from her at once, on one of which was marked that\r
+it had been missent elsewhere. Elizabeth was not surprised at it, as\r
+Jane had written the direction remarkably ill.\r
+\r
+They had just been preparing to walk as the letters came in; and\r
+her uncle and aunt, leaving her to enjoy them in quiet, set off by\r
+themselves. The one missent must first be attended to; it had been\r
+written five days ago. The beginning contained an account of all their\r
+little parties and engagements, with such news as the country afforded;\r
+but the latter half, which was dated a day later, and written in evident\r
+agitation, gave more important intelligence. It was to this effect:\r
+\r
+"Since writing the above, dearest Lizzy, something has occurred of a\r
+most unexpected and serious nature; but I am afraid of alarming you--be\r
+assured that we are all well. What I have to say relates to poor Lydia.\r
+An express came at twelve last night, just as we were all gone to bed,\r
+from Colonel Forster, to inform us that she was gone off to Scotland\r
+with one of his officers; to own the truth, with Wickham! Imagine our\r
+surprise. To Kitty, however, it does not seem so wholly unexpected. I am\r
+very, very sorry. So imprudent a match on both sides! But I am willing\r
+to hope the best, and that his character has been misunderstood.\r
+Thoughtless and indiscreet I can easily believe him, but this step\r
+(and let us rejoice over it) marks nothing bad at heart. His choice is\r
+disinterested at least, for he must know my father can give her nothing.\r
+Our poor mother is sadly grieved. My father bears it better. How\r
+thankful am I that we never let them know what has been said against\r
+him; we must forget it ourselves. They were off Saturday night about\r
+twelve, as is conjectured, but were not missed till yesterday morning at\r
+eight. The express was sent off directly. My dear Lizzy, they must have\r
+passed within ten miles of us. Colonel Forster gives us reason to expect\r
+him here soon. Lydia left a few lines for his wife, informing her of\r
+their intention. I must conclude, for I cannot be long from my poor\r
+mother. I am afraid you will not be able to make it out, but I hardly\r
+know what I have written."\r
+\r
+Without allowing herself time for consideration, and scarcely knowing\r
+what she felt, Elizabeth on finishing this letter instantly seized the\r
+other, and opening it with the utmost impatience, read as follows: it\r
+had been written a day later than the conclusion of the first.\r
+\r
+"By this time, my dearest sister, you have received my hurried letter; I\r
+wish this may be more intelligible, but though not confined for time, my\r
+head is so bewildered that I cannot answer for being coherent. Dearest\r
+Lizzy, I hardly know what I would write, but I have bad news for you,\r
+and it cannot be delayed. Imprudent as the marriage between Mr. Wickham\r
+and our poor Lydia would be, we are now anxious to be assured it has\r
+taken place, for there is but too much reason to fear they are not gone\r
+to Scotland. Colonel Forster came yesterday, having left Brighton the\r
+day before, not many hours after the express. Though Lydia's short\r
+letter to Mrs. F. gave them to understand that they were going to Gretna\r
+Green, something was dropped by Denny expressing his belief that W.\r
+never intended to go there, or to marry Lydia at all, which was\r
+repeated to Colonel F., who, instantly taking the alarm, set off from B.\r
+intending to trace their route. He did trace them easily to Clapham,\r
+but no further; for on entering that place, they removed into a hackney\r
+coach, and dismissed the chaise that brought them from Epsom. All that\r
+is known after this is, that they were seen to continue the London road.\r
+I know not what to think. After making every possible inquiry on that\r
+side London, Colonel F. came on into Hertfordshire, anxiously renewing\r
+them at all the turnpikes, and at the inns in Barnet and Hatfield, but\r
+without any success--no such people had been seen to pass through. With\r
+the kindest concern he came on to Longbourn, and broke his apprehensions\r
+to us in a manner most creditable to his heart. I am sincerely grieved\r
+for him and Mrs. F., but no one can throw any blame on them. Our\r
+distress, my dear Lizzy, is very great. My father and mother believe the\r
+worst, but I cannot think so ill of him. Many circumstances might make\r
+it more eligible for them to be married privately in town than to pursue\r
+their first plan; and even if _he_ could form such a design against a\r
+young woman of Lydia's connections, which is not likely, can I suppose\r
+her so lost to everything? Impossible! I grieve to find, however, that\r
+Colonel F. is not disposed to depend upon their marriage; he shook his\r
+head when I expressed my hopes, and said he feared W. was not a man to\r
+be trusted. My poor mother is really ill, and keeps her room. Could she\r
+exert herself, it would be better; but this is not to be expected. And\r
+as to my father, I never in my life saw him so affected. Poor Kitty has\r
+anger for having concealed their attachment; but as it was a matter of\r
+confidence, one cannot wonder. I am truly glad, dearest Lizzy, that you\r
+have been spared something of these distressing scenes; but now, as the\r
+first shock is over, shall I own that I long for your return? I am not\r
+so selfish, however, as to press for it, if inconvenient. Adieu! I\r
+take up my pen again to do what I have just told you I would not; but\r
+circumstances are such that I cannot help earnestly begging you all to\r
+come here as soon as possible. I know my dear uncle and aunt so well,\r
+that I am not afraid of requesting it, though I have still something\r
+more to ask of the former. My father is going to London with Colonel\r
+Forster instantly, to try to discover her. What he means to do I am sure\r
+I know not; but his excessive distress will not allow him to pursue any\r
+measure in the best and safest way, and Colonel Forster is obliged to\r
+be at Brighton again to-morrow evening. In such an exigence, my\r
+uncle's advice and assistance would be everything in the world; he will\r
+immediately comprehend what I must feel, and I rely upon his goodness."\r
+\r
+"Oh! where, where is my uncle?" cried Elizabeth, darting from her seat\r
+as she finished the letter, in eagerness to follow him, without losing\r
+a moment of the time so precious; but as she reached the door it was\r
+opened by a servant, and Mr. Darcy appeared. Her pale face and impetuous\r
+manner made him start, and before he could recover himself to speak,\r
+she, in whose mind every idea was superseded by Lydia's situation,\r
+hastily exclaimed, "I beg your pardon, but I must leave you. I must find\r
+Mr. Gardiner this moment, on business that cannot be delayed; I have not\r
+an instant to lose."\r
+\r
+"Good God! what is the matter?" cried he, with more feeling than\r
+politeness; then recollecting himself, "I will not detain you a minute;\r
+but let me, or let the servant go after Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. You are\r
+not well enough; you cannot go yourself."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth hesitated, but her knees trembled under her and she felt how\r
+little would be gained by her attempting to pursue them. Calling back\r
+the servant, therefore, she commissioned him, though in so breathless\r
+an accent as made her almost unintelligible, to fetch his master and\r
+mistress home instantly.\r
+\r
+On his quitting the room she sat down, unable to support herself, and\r
+looking so miserably ill, that it was impossible for Darcy to leave her,\r
+or to refrain from saying, in a tone of gentleness and commiseration,\r
+"Let me call your maid. Is there nothing you could take to give you\r
+present relief? A glass of wine; shall I get you one? You are very ill."\r
+\r
+"No, I thank you," she replied, endeavouring to recover herself. "There\r
+is nothing the matter with me. I am quite well; I am only distressed by\r
+some dreadful news which I have just received from Longbourn."\r
+\r
+She burst into tears as she alluded to it, and for a few minutes could\r
+not speak another word. Darcy, in wretched suspense, could only say\r
+something indistinctly of his concern, and observe her in compassionate\r
+silence. At length she spoke again. "I have just had a letter from Jane,\r
+with such dreadful news. It cannot be concealed from anyone. My younger\r
+sister has left all her friends--has eloped; has thrown herself into\r
+the power of--of Mr. Wickham. They are gone off together from Brighton.\r
+_You_ know him too well to doubt the rest. She has no money, no\r
+connections, nothing that can tempt him to--she is lost for ever."\r
+\r
+Darcy was fixed in astonishment. "When I consider," she added in a yet\r
+more agitated voice, "that I might have prevented it! I, who knew what\r
+he was. Had I but explained some part of it only--some part of what I\r
+learnt, to my own family! Had his character been known, this could not\r
+have happened. But it is all--all too late now."\r
+\r
+"I am grieved indeed," cried Darcy; "grieved--shocked. But is it\r
+certain--absolutely certain?"\r
+\r
+"Oh, yes! They left Brighton together on Sunday night, and were traced\r
+almost to London, but not beyond; they are certainly not gone to\r
+Scotland."\r
+\r
+"And what has been done, what has been attempted, to recover her?"\r
+\r
+"My father is gone to London, and Jane has written to beg my uncle's\r
+immediate assistance; and we shall be off, I hope, in half-an-hour. But\r
+nothing can be done--I know very well that nothing can be done. How is\r
+such a man to be worked on? How are they even to be discovered? I have\r
+not the smallest hope. It is every way horrible!"\r
+\r
+Darcy shook his head in silent acquiescence.\r
+\r
+"When _my_ eyes were opened to his real character--Oh! had I known what\r
+I ought, what I dared to do! But I knew not--I was afraid of doing too\r
+much. Wretched, wretched mistake!"\r
+\r
+Darcy made no answer. He seemed scarcely to hear her, and was walking\r
+up and down the room in earnest meditation, his brow contracted, his air\r
+gloomy. Elizabeth soon observed, and instantly understood it. Her\r
+power was sinking; everything _must_ sink under such a proof of family\r
+weakness, such an assurance of the deepest disgrace. She could neither\r
+wonder nor condemn, but the belief of his self-conquest brought nothing\r
+consolatory to her bosom, afforded no palliation of her distress. It\r
+was, on the contrary, exactly calculated to make her understand her own\r
+wishes; and never had she so honestly felt that she could have loved\r
+him, as now, when all love must be vain.\r
+\r
+But self, though it would intrude, could not engross her. Lydia--the\r
+humiliation, the misery she was bringing on them all, soon swallowed\r
+up every private care; and covering her face with her handkerchief,\r
+Elizabeth was soon lost to everything else; and, after a pause of\r
+several minutes, was only recalled to a sense of her situation by\r
+the voice of her companion, who, in a manner which, though it spoke\r
+compassion, spoke likewise restraint, said, "I am afraid you have been\r
+long desiring my absence, nor have I anything to plead in excuse of my\r
+stay, but real, though unavailing concern. Would to Heaven that anything\r
+could be either said or done on my part that might offer consolation to\r
+such distress! But I will not torment you with vain wishes, which may\r
+seem purposely to ask for your thanks. This unfortunate affair will, I\r
+fear, prevent my sister's having the pleasure of seeing you at Pemberley\r
+to-day."\r
+\r
+"Oh, yes. Be so kind as to apologise for us to Miss Darcy. Say that\r
+urgent business calls us home immediately. Conceal the unhappy truth as\r
+long as it is possible, I know it cannot be long."\r
+\r
+He readily assured her of his secrecy; again expressed his sorrow for\r
+her distress, wished it a happier conclusion than there was at present\r
+reason to hope, and leaving his compliments for her relations, with only\r
+one serious, parting look, went away.\r
+\r
+As he quitted the room, Elizabeth felt how improbable it was that they\r
+should ever see each other again on such terms of cordiality as\r
+had marked their several meetings in Derbyshire; and as she threw a\r
+retrospective glance over the whole of their acquaintance, so full\r
+of contradictions and varieties, sighed at the perverseness of those\r
+feelings which would now have promoted its continuance, and would\r
+formerly have rejoiced in its termination.\r
+\r
+If gratitude and esteem are good foundations of affection, Elizabeth's\r
+change of sentiment will be neither improbable nor faulty. But if\r
+otherwise--if regard springing from such sources is unreasonable or\r
+unnatural, in comparison of what is so often described as arising on\r
+a first interview with its object, and even before two words have been\r
+exchanged, nothing can be said in her defence, except that she had given\r
+somewhat of a trial to the latter method in her partiality for Wickham,\r
+and that its ill success might, perhaps, authorise her to seek the other\r
+less interesting mode of attachment. Be that as it may, she saw him\r
+go with regret; and in this early example of what Lydia's infamy must\r
+produce, found additional anguish as she reflected on that wretched\r
+business. Never, since reading Jane's second letter, had she entertained\r
+a hope of Wickham's meaning to marry her. No one but Jane, she thought,\r
+could flatter herself with such an expectation. Surprise was the least\r
+of her feelings on this development. While the contents of the first\r
+letter remained in her mind, she was all surprise--all astonishment that\r
+Wickham should marry a girl whom it was impossible he could marry\r
+for money; and how Lydia could ever have attached him had appeared\r
+incomprehensible. But now it was all too natural. For such an attachment\r
+as this she might have sufficient charms; and though she did not suppose\r
+Lydia to be deliberately engaging in an elopement without the intention\r
+of marriage, she had no difficulty in believing that neither her virtue\r
+nor her understanding would preserve her from falling an easy prey.\r
+\r
+She had never perceived, while the regiment was in Hertfordshire, that\r
+Lydia had any partiality for him; but she was convinced that Lydia\r
+wanted only encouragement to attach herself to anybody. Sometimes one\r
+officer, sometimes another, had been her favourite, as their attentions\r
+raised them in her opinion. Her affections had continually been\r
+fluctuating but never without an object. The mischief of neglect and\r
+mistaken indulgence towards such a girl--oh! how acutely did she now\r
+feel it!\r
+\r
+She was wild to be at home--to hear, to see, to be upon the spot to\r
+share with Jane in the cares that must now fall wholly upon her, in a\r
+family so deranged, a father absent, a mother incapable of exertion, and\r
+requiring constant attendance; and though almost persuaded that nothing\r
+could be done for Lydia, her uncle's interference seemed of the utmost\r
+importance, and till he entered the room her impatience was severe. Mr.\r
+and Mrs. Gardiner had hurried back in alarm, supposing by the servant's\r
+account that their niece was taken suddenly ill; but satisfying them\r
+instantly on that head, she eagerly communicated the cause of their\r
+summons, reading the two letters aloud, and dwelling on the postscript\r
+of the last with trembling energy.--Though Lydia had never been a\r
+favourite with them, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner could not but be deeply\r
+afflicted. Not Lydia only, but all were concerned in it; and after the\r
+first exclamations of surprise and horror, Mr. Gardiner promised every\r
+assistance in his power. Elizabeth, though expecting no less, thanked\r
+him with tears of gratitude; and all three being actuated by one spirit,\r
+everything relating to their journey was speedily settled. They were to\r
+be off as soon as possible. "But what is to be done about Pemberley?"\r
+cried Mrs. Gardiner. "John told us Mr. Darcy was here when you sent for\r
+us; was it so?"\r
+\r
+"Yes; and I told him we should not be able to keep our engagement.\r
+_That_ is all settled."\r
+\r
+"What is all settled?" repeated the other, as she ran into her room to\r
+prepare. "And are they upon such terms as for her to disclose the real\r
+truth? Oh, that I knew how it was!"\r
+\r
+But wishes were vain, or at least could only serve to amuse her in the\r
+hurry and confusion of the following hour. Had Elizabeth been at leisure\r
+to be idle, she would have remained certain that all employment was\r
+impossible to one so wretched as herself; but she had her share of\r
+business as well as her aunt, and amongst the rest there were notes to\r
+be written to all their friends at Lambton, with false excuses for their\r
+sudden departure. An hour, however, saw the whole completed; and Mr.\r
+Gardiner meanwhile having settled his account at the inn, nothing\r
+remained to be done but to go; and Elizabeth, after all the misery of\r
+the morning, found herself, in a shorter space of time than she could\r
+have supposed, seated in the carriage, and on the road to Longbourn.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 47\r
+\r
+\r
+"I have been thinking it over again, Elizabeth," said her uncle, as they\r
+drove from the town; "and really, upon serious consideration, I am much\r
+more inclined than I was to judge as your eldest sister does on the\r
+matter. It appears to me so very unlikely that any young man should\r
+form such a design against a girl who is by no means unprotected or\r
+friendless, and who was actually staying in his colonel's family, that I\r
+am strongly inclined to hope the best. Could he expect that her friends\r
+would not step forward? Could he expect to be noticed again by the\r
+regiment, after such an affront to Colonel Forster? His temptation is\r
+not adequate to the risk!"\r
+\r
+"Do you really think so?" cried Elizabeth, brightening up for a moment.\r
+\r
+"Upon my word," said Mrs. Gardiner, "I begin to be of your uncle's\r
+opinion. It is really too great a violation of decency, honour, and\r
+interest, for him to be guilty of. I cannot think so very ill of\r
+Wickham. Can you yourself, Lizzy, so wholly give him up, as to believe\r
+him capable of it?"\r
+\r
+"Not, perhaps, of neglecting his own interest; but of every other\r
+neglect I can believe him capable. If, indeed, it should be so! But I\r
+dare not hope it. Why should they not go on to Scotland if that had been\r
+the case?"\r
+\r
+"In the first place," replied Mr. Gardiner, "there is no absolute proof\r
+that they are not gone to Scotland."\r
+\r
+"Oh! but their removing from the chaise into a hackney coach is such\r
+a presumption! And, besides, no traces of them were to be found on the\r
+Barnet road."\r
+\r
+"Well, then--supposing them to be in London. They may be there, though\r
+for the purpose of concealment, for no more exceptional purpose. It is\r
+not likely that money should be very abundant on either side; and it\r
+might strike them that they could be more economically, though less\r
+expeditiously, married in London than in Scotland."\r
+\r
+"But why all this secrecy? Why any fear of detection? Why must their\r
+marriage be private? Oh, no, no--this is not likely. His most particular\r
+friend, you see by Jane's account, was persuaded of his never intending\r
+to marry her. Wickham will never marry a woman without some money. He\r
+cannot afford it. And what claims has Lydia--what attraction has she\r
+beyond youth, health, and good humour that could make him, for her sake,\r
+forego every chance of benefiting himself by marrying well? As to what\r
+restraint the apprehensions of disgrace in the corps might throw on a\r
+dishonourable elopement with her, I am not able to judge; for I know\r
+nothing of the effects that such a step might produce. But as to your\r
+other objection, I am afraid it will hardly hold good. Lydia has\r
+no brothers to step forward; and he might imagine, from my father's\r
+behaviour, from his indolence and the little attention he has ever\r
+seemed to give to what was going forward in his family, that _he_ would\r
+do as little, and think as little about it, as any father could do, in\r
+such a matter."\r
+\r
+"But can you think that Lydia is so lost to everything but love of him\r
+as to consent to live with him on any terms other than marriage?"\r
+\r
+"It does seem, and it is most shocking indeed," replied Elizabeth, with\r
+tears in her eyes, "that a sister's sense of decency and virtue in such\r
+a point should admit of doubt. But, really, I know not what to say.\r
+Perhaps I am not doing her justice. But she is very young; she has never\r
+been taught to think on serious subjects; and for the last half-year,\r
+nay, for a twelvemonth--she has been given up to nothing but amusement\r
+and vanity. She has been allowed to dispose of her time in the most idle\r
+and frivolous manner, and to adopt any opinions that came in her way.\r
+Since the ----shire were first quartered in Meryton, nothing but love,\r
+flirtation, and officers have been in her head. She has been doing\r
+everything in her power by thinking and talking on the subject, to give\r
+greater--what shall I call it? susceptibility to her feelings; which are\r
+naturally lively enough. And we all know that Wickham has every charm of\r
+person and address that can captivate a woman."\r
+\r
+"But you see that Jane," said her aunt, "does not think so very ill of\r
+Wickham as to believe him capable of the attempt."\r
+\r
+"Of whom does Jane ever think ill? And who is there, whatever might be\r
+their former conduct, that she would think capable of such an attempt,\r
+till it were proved against them? But Jane knows, as well as I do, what\r
+Wickham really is. We both know that he has been profligate in every\r
+sense of the word; that he has neither integrity nor honour; that he is\r
+as false and deceitful as he is insinuating."\r
+\r
+"And do you really know all this?" cried Mrs. Gardiner, whose curiosity\r
+as to the mode of her intelligence was all alive.\r
+\r
+"I do indeed," replied Elizabeth, colouring. "I told you, the other day,\r
+of his infamous behaviour to Mr. Darcy; and you yourself, when last at\r
+Longbourn, heard in what manner he spoke of the man who had behaved\r
+with such forbearance and liberality towards him. And there are other\r
+circumstances which I am not at liberty--which it is not worth while to\r
+relate; but his lies about the whole Pemberley family are endless. From\r
+what he said of Miss Darcy I was thoroughly prepared to see a proud,\r
+reserved, disagreeable girl. Yet he knew to the contrary himself. He\r
+must know that she was as amiable and unpretending as we have found\r
+her."\r
+\r
+"But does Lydia know nothing of this? can she be ignorant of what you\r
+and Jane seem so well to understand?"\r
+\r
+"Oh, yes!--that, that is the worst of all. Till I was in Kent, and saw\r
+so much both of Mr. Darcy and his relation Colonel Fitzwilliam, I was\r
+ignorant of the truth myself. And when I returned home, the ----shire\r
+was to leave Meryton in a week or fortnight's time. As that was the\r
+case, neither Jane, to whom I related the whole, nor I, thought it\r
+necessary to make our knowledge public; for of what use could\r
+it apparently be to any one, that the good opinion which all the\r
+neighbourhood had of him should then be overthrown? And even when it was\r
+settled that Lydia should go with Mrs. Forster, the necessity of opening\r
+her eyes to his character never occurred to me. That _she_ could be\r
+in any danger from the deception never entered my head. That such a\r
+consequence as _this_ could ensue, you may easily believe, was far\r
+enough from my thoughts."\r
+\r
+"When they all removed to Brighton, therefore, you had no reason, I\r
+suppose, to believe them fond of each other?"\r
+\r
+"Not the slightest. I can remember no symptom of affection on either\r
+side; and had anything of the kind been perceptible, you must be aware\r
+that ours is not a family on which it could be thrown away. When first\r
+he entered the corps, she was ready enough to admire him; but so we all\r
+were. Every girl in or near Meryton was out of her senses about him for\r
+the first two months; but he never distinguished _her_ by any particular\r
+attention; and, consequently, after a moderate period of extravagant and\r
+wild admiration, her fancy for him gave way, and others of the regiment,\r
+who treated her with more distinction, again became her favourites."\r
+\r
+ * * * * *\r
+\r
+It may be easily believed, that however little of novelty could be added\r
+to their fears, hopes, and conjectures, on this interesting subject, by\r
+its repeated discussion, no other could detain them from it long, during\r
+the whole of the journey. From Elizabeth's thoughts it was never absent.\r
+Fixed there by the keenest of all anguish, self-reproach, she could find\r
+no interval of ease or forgetfulness.\r
+\r
+They travelled as expeditiously as possible, and, sleeping one night\r
+on the road, reached Longbourn by dinner time the next day. It was a\r
+comfort to Elizabeth to consider that Jane could not have been wearied\r
+by long expectations.\r
+\r
+The little Gardiners, attracted by the sight of a chaise, were standing\r
+on the steps of the house as they entered the paddock; and, when the\r
+carriage drove up to the door, the joyful surprise that lighted up their\r
+faces, and displayed itself over their whole bodies, in a variety of\r
+capers and frisks, was the first pleasing earnest of their welcome.\r
+\r
+Elizabeth jumped out; and, after giving each of them a hasty kiss,\r
+hurried into the vestibule, where Jane, who came running down from her\r
+mother's apartment, immediately met her.\r
+\r
+Elizabeth, as she affectionately embraced her, whilst tears filled the\r
+eyes of both, lost not a moment in asking whether anything had been\r
+heard of the fugitives.\r
+\r
+"Not yet," replied Jane. "But now that my dear uncle is come, I hope\r
+everything will be well."\r
+\r
+"Is my father in town?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, he went on Tuesday, as I wrote you word."\r
+\r
+"And have you heard from him often?"\r
+\r
+"We have heard only twice. He wrote me a few lines on Wednesday to say\r
+that he had arrived in safety, and to give me his directions, which I\r
+particularly begged him to do. He merely added that he should not write\r
+again till he had something of importance to mention."\r
+\r
+"And my mother--how is she? How are you all?"\r
+\r
+"My mother is tolerably well, I trust; though her spirits are greatly\r
+shaken. She is up stairs and will have great satisfaction in seeing you\r
+all. She does not yet leave her dressing-room. Mary and Kitty, thank\r
+Heaven, are quite well."\r
+\r
+"But you--how are you?" cried Elizabeth. "You look pale. How much you\r
+must have gone through!"\r
+\r
+Her sister, however, assured her of her being perfectly well; and their\r
+conversation, which had been passing while Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were\r
+engaged with their children, was now put an end to by the approach\r
+of the whole party. Jane ran to her uncle and aunt, and welcomed and\r
+thanked them both, with alternate smiles and tears.\r
+\r
+When they were all in the drawing-room, the questions which Elizabeth\r
+had already asked were of course repeated by the others, and they soon\r
+found that Jane had no intelligence to give. The sanguine hope of\r
+good, however, which the benevolence of her heart suggested had not yet\r
+deserted her; she still expected that it would all end well, and that\r
+every morning would bring some letter, either from Lydia or her father,\r
+to explain their proceedings, and, perhaps, announce their marriage.\r
+\r
+Mrs. Bennet, to whose apartment they all repaired, after a few minutes'\r
+conversation together, received them exactly as might be expected; with\r
+tears and lamentations of regret, invectives against the villainous\r
+conduct of Wickham, and complaints of her own sufferings and ill-usage;\r
+blaming everybody but the person to whose ill-judging indulgence the\r
+errors of her daughter must principally be owing.\r
+\r
+"If I had been able," said she, "to carry my point in going to Brighton,\r
+with all my family, _this_ would not have happened; but poor dear Lydia\r
+had nobody to take care of her. Why did the Forsters ever let her go out\r
+of their sight? I am sure there was some great neglect or other on their\r
+side, for she is not the kind of girl to do such a thing if she had been\r
+well looked after. I always thought they were very unfit to have the\r
+charge of her; but I was overruled, as I always am. Poor dear child!\r
+And now here's Mr. Bennet gone away, and I know he will fight Wickham,\r
+wherever he meets him and then he will be killed, and what is to become\r
+of us all? The Collinses will turn us out before he is cold in his\r
+grave, and if you are not kind to us, brother, I do not know what we\r
+shall do."\r
+\r
+They all exclaimed against such terrific ideas; and Mr. Gardiner, after\r
+general assurances of his affection for her and all her family, told her\r
+that he meant to be in London the very next day, and would assist Mr.\r
+Bennet in every endeavour for recovering Lydia.\r
+\r
+"Do not give way to useless alarm," added he; "though it is right to be\r
+prepared for the worst, there is no occasion to look on it as certain.\r
+It is not quite a week since they left Brighton. In a few days more we\r
+may gain some news of them; and till we know that they are not married,\r
+and have no design of marrying, do not let us give the matter over as\r
+lost. As soon as I get to town I shall go to my brother, and make\r
+him come home with me to Gracechurch Street; and then we may consult\r
+together as to what is to be done."\r
+\r
+"Oh! my dear brother," replied Mrs. Bennet, "that is exactly what I\r
+could most wish for. And now do, when you get to town, find them out,\r
+wherever they may be; and if they are not married already, _make_ them\r
+marry. And as for wedding clothes, do not let them wait for that, but\r
+tell Lydia she shall have as much money as she chooses to buy them,\r
+after they are married. And, above all, keep Mr. Bennet from fighting.\r
+Tell him what a dreadful state I am in, that I am frighted out of my\r
+wits--and have such tremblings, such flutterings, all over me--such\r
+spasms in my side and pains in my head, and such beatings at heart, that\r
+I can get no rest by night nor by day. And tell my dear Lydia not to\r
+give any directions about her clothes till she has seen me, for she does\r
+not know which are the best warehouses. Oh, brother, how kind you are! I\r
+know you will contrive it all."\r
+\r
+But Mr. Gardiner, though he assured her again of his earnest endeavours\r
+in the cause, could not avoid recommending moderation to her, as well\r
+in her hopes as her fear; and after talking with her in this manner till\r
+dinner was on the table, they all left her to vent all her feelings on\r
+the housekeeper, who attended in the absence of her daughters.\r
+\r
+Though her brother and sister were persuaded that there was no real\r
+occasion for such a seclusion from the family, they did not attempt to\r
+oppose it, for they knew that she had not prudence enough to hold her\r
+tongue before the servants, while they waited at table, and judged it\r
+better that _one_ only of the household, and the one whom they could\r
+most trust should comprehend all her fears and solicitude on the\r
+subject.\r
+\r
+In the dining-room they were soon joined by Mary and Kitty, who had been\r
+too busily engaged in their separate apartments to make their appearance\r
+before. One came from her books, and the other from her toilette. The\r
+faces of both, however, were tolerably calm; and no change was visible\r
+in either, except that the loss of her favourite sister, or the anger\r
+which she had herself incurred in this business, had given more of\r
+fretfulness than usual to the accents of Kitty. As for Mary, she was\r
+mistress enough of herself to whisper to Elizabeth, with a countenance\r
+of grave reflection, soon after they were seated at table:\r
+\r
+"This is a most unfortunate affair, and will probably be much talked of.\r
+But we must stem the tide of malice, and pour into the wounded bosoms of\r
+each other the balm of sisterly consolation."\r
+\r
+Then, perceiving in Elizabeth no inclination of replying, she added,\r
+"Unhappy as the event must be for Lydia, we may draw from it this useful\r
+lesson: that loss of virtue in a female is irretrievable; that one\r
+false step involves her in endless ruin; that her reputation is no less\r
+brittle than it is beautiful; and that she cannot be too much guarded in\r
+her behaviour towards the undeserving of the other sex."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth lifted up her eyes in amazement, but was too much oppressed\r
+to make any reply. Mary, however, continued to console herself with such\r
+kind of moral extractions from the evil before them.\r
+\r
+In the afternoon, the two elder Miss Bennets were able to be for\r
+half-an-hour by themselves; and Elizabeth instantly availed herself of\r
+the opportunity of making any inquiries, which Jane was equally eager to\r
+satisfy. After joining in general lamentations over the dreadful sequel\r
+of this event, which Elizabeth considered as all but certain, and Miss\r
+Bennet could not assert to be wholly impossible, the former continued\r
+the subject, by saying, "But tell me all and everything about it which\r
+I have not already heard. Give me further particulars. What did Colonel\r
+Forster say? Had they no apprehension of anything before the elopement\r
+took place? They must have seen them together for ever."\r
+\r
+"Colonel Forster did own that he had often suspected some partiality,\r
+especially on Lydia's side, but nothing to give him any alarm. I am so\r
+grieved for him! His behaviour was attentive and kind to the utmost. He\r
+_was_ coming to us, in order to assure us of his concern, before he had\r
+any idea of their not being gone to Scotland: when that apprehension\r
+first got abroad, it hastened his journey."\r
+\r
+"And was Denny convinced that Wickham would not marry? Did he know of\r
+their intending to go off? Had Colonel Forster seen Denny himself?"\r
+\r
+"Yes; but, when questioned by _him_, Denny denied knowing anything of\r
+their plans, and would not give his real opinion about it. He did not\r
+repeat his persuasion of their not marrying--and from _that_, I am\r
+inclined to hope, he might have been misunderstood before."\r
+\r
+"And till Colonel Forster came himself, not one of you entertained a\r
+doubt, I suppose, of their being really married?"\r
+\r
+"How was it possible that such an idea should enter our brains? I felt\r
+a little uneasy--a little fearful of my sister's happiness with him\r
+in marriage, because I knew that his conduct had not been always quite\r
+right. My father and mother knew nothing of that; they only felt how\r
+imprudent a match it must be. Kitty then owned, with a very natural\r
+triumph on knowing more than the rest of us, that in Lydia's last letter\r
+she had prepared her for such a step. She had known, it seems, of their\r
+being in love with each other, many weeks."\r
+\r
+"But not before they went to Brighton?"\r
+\r
+"No, I believe not."\r
+\r
+"And did Colonel Forster appear to think well of Wickham himself? Does\r
+he know his real character?"\r
+\r
+"I must confess that he did not speak so well of Wickham as he formerly\r
+did. He believed him to be imprudent and extravagant. And since this sad\r
+affair has taken place, it is said that he left Meryton greatly in debt;\r
+but I hope this may be false."\r
+\r
+"Oh, Jane, had we been less secret, had we told what we knew of him,\r
+this could not have happened!"\r
+\r
+"Perhaps it would have been better," replied her sister. "But to expose\r
+the former faults of any person without knowing what their present\r
+feelings were, seemed unjustifiable. We acted with the best intentions."\r
+\r
+"Could Colonel Forster repeat the particulars of Lydia's note to his\r
+wife?"\r
+\r
+"He brought it with him for us to see."\r
+\r
+Jane then took it from her pocket-book, and gave it to Elizabeth. These\r
+were the contents:\r
+\r
+"MY DEAR HARRIET,\r
+\r
+"You will laugh when you know where I am gone, and I cannot help\r
+laughing myself at your surprise to-morrow morning, as soon as I am\r
+missed. I am going to Gretna Green, and if you cannot guess with who,\r
+I shall think you a simpleton, for there is but one man in the world I\r
+love, and he is an angel. I should never be happy without him, so think\r
+it no harm to be off. You need not send them word at Longbourn of my\r
+going, if you do not like it, for it will make the surprise the greater,\r
+when I write to them and sign my name 'Lydia Wickham.' What a good joke\r
+it will be! I can hardly write for laughing. Pray make my excuses to\r
+Pratt for not keeping my engagement, and dancing with him to-night.\r
+Tell him I hope he will excuse me when he knows all; and tell him I will\r
+dance with him at the next ball we meet, with great pleasure. I shall\r
+send for my clothes when I get to Longbourn; but I wish you would tell\r
+Sally to mend a great slit in my worked muslin gown before they are\r
+packed up. Good-bye. Give my love to Colonel Forster. I hope you will\r
+drink to our good journey.\r
+\r
+"Your affectionate friend,\r
+\r
+"LYDIA BENNET."\r
+\r
+"Oh! thoughtless, thoughtless Lydia!" cried Elizabeth when she had\r
+finished it. "What a letter is this, to be written at such a moment!\r
+But at least it shows that _she_ was serious on the subject of their\r
+journey. Whatever he might afterwards persuade her to, it was not on her\r
+side a _scheme_ of infamy. My poor father! how he must have felt it!"\r
+\r
+"I never saw anyone so shocked. He could not speak a word for full ten\r
+minutes. My mother was taken ill immediately, and the whole house in\r
+such confusion!"\r
+\r
+"Oh! Jane," cried Elizabeth, "was there a servant belonging to it who\r
+did not know the whole story before the end of the day?"\r
+\r
+"I do not know. I hope there was. But to be guarded at such a time is\r
+very difficult. My mother was in hysterics, and though I endeavoured to\r
+give her every assistance in my power, I am afraid I did not do so\r
+much as I might have done! But the horror of what might possibly happen\r
+almost took from me my faculties."\r
+\r
+"Your attendance upon her has been too much for you. You do not look\r
+well. Oh that I had been with you! you have had every care and anxiety\r
+upon yourself alone."\r
+\r
+"Mary and Kitty have been very kind, and would have shared in every\r
+fatigue, I am sure; but I did not think it right for either of them.\r
+Kitty is slight and delicate; and Mary studies so much, that her hours\r
+of repose should not be broken in on. My aunt Phillips came to Longbourn\r
+on Tuesday, after my father went away; and was so good as to stay till\r
+Thursday with me. She was of great use and comfort to us all. And\r
+Lady Lucas has been very kind; she walked here on Wednesday morning to\r
+condole with us, and offered her services, or any of her daughters', if\r
+they should be of use to us."\r
+\r
+"She had better have stayed at home," cried Elizabeth; "perhaps she\r
+_meant_ well, but, under such a misfortune as this, one cannot see\r
+too little of one's neighbours. Assistance is impossible; condolence\r
+insufferable. Let them triumph over us at a distance, and be satisfied."\r
+\r
+She then proceeded to inquire into the measures which her father had\r
+intended to pursue, while in town, for the recovery of his daughter.\r
+\r
+"He meant I believe," replied Jane, "to go to Epsom, the place where\r
+they last changed horses, see the postilions and try if anything could\r
+be made out from them. His principal object must be to discover the\r
+number of the hackney coach which took them from Clapham. It had come\r
+with a fare from London; and as he thought that the circumstance of a\r
+gentleman and lady's removing from one carriage into another might\r
+be remarked he meant to make inquiries at Clapham. If he could anyhow\r
+discover at what house the coachman had before set down his fare, he\r
+determined to make inquiries there, and hoped it might not be impossible\r
+to find out the stand and number of the coach. I do not know of any\r
+other designs that he had formed; but he was in such a hurry to be gone,\r
+and his spirits so greatly discomposed, that I had difficulty in finding\r
+out even so much as this."\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 48\r
+\r
+\r
+The whole party were in hopes of a letter from Mr. Bennet the next\r
+morning, but the post came in without bringing a single line from him.\r
+His family knew him to be, on all common occasions, a most negligent and\r
+dilatory correspondent; but at such a time they had hoped for exertion.\r
+They were forced to conclude that he had no pleasing intelligence to\r
+send; but even of _that_ they would have been glad to be certain. Mr.\r
+Gardiner had waited only for the letters before he set off.\r
+\r
+When he was gone, they were certain at least of receiving constant\r
+information of what was going on, and their uncle promised, at parting,\r
+to prevail on Mr. Bennet to return to Longbourn, as soon as he could,\r
+to the great consolation of his sister, who considered it as the only\r
+security for her husband's not being killed in a duel.\r
+\r
+Mrs. Gardiner and the children were to remain in Hertfordshire a few\r
+days longer, as the former thought her presence might be serviceable\r
+to her nieces. She shared in their attendance on Mrs. Bennet, and was a\r
+great comfort to them in their hours of freedom. Their other aunt also\r
+visited them frequently, and always, as she said, with the design of\r
+cheering and heartening them up--though, as she never came without\r
+reporting some fresh instance of Wickham's extravagance or irregularity,\r
+she seldom went away without leaving them more dispirited than she found\r
+them.\r
+\r
+All Meryton seemed striving to blacken the man who, but three months\r
+before, had been almost an angel of light. He was declared to be in debt\r
+to every tradesman in the place, and his intrigues, all honoured with\r
+the title of seduction, had been extended into every tradesman's family.\r
+Everybody declared that he was the wickedest young man in the world;\r
+and everybody began to find out that they had always distrusted the\r
+appearance of his goodness. Elizabeth, though she did not credit above\r
+half of what was said, believed enough to make her former assurance of\r
+her sister's ruin more certain; and even Jane, who believed still less\r
+of it, became almost hopeless, more especially as the time was now come\r
+when, if they had gone to Scotland, which she had never before entirely\r
+despaired of, they must in all probability have gained some news of\r
+them.\r
+\r
+Mr. Gardiner left Longbourn on Sunday; on Tuesday his wife received a\r
+letter from him; it told them that, on his arrival, he had immediately\r
+found out his brother, and persuaded him to come to Gracechurch Street;\r
+that Mr. Bennet had been to Epsom and Clapham, before his arrival,\r
+but without gaining any satisfactory information; and that he was now\r
+determined to inquire at all the principal hotels in town, as Mr. Bennet\r
+thought it possible they might have gone to one of them, on their first\r
+coming to London, before they procured lodgings. Mr. Gardiner himself\r
+did not expect any success from this measure, but as his brother was\r
+eager in it, he meant to assist him in pursuing it. He added that Mr.\r
+Bennet seemed wholly disinclined at present to leave London and promised\r
+to write again very soon. There was also a postscript to this effect:\r
+\r
+"I have written to Colonel Forster to desire him to find out, if\r
+possible, from some of the young man's intimates in the regiment,\r
+whether Wickham has any relations or connections who would be likely to\r
+know in what part of town he has now concealed himself. If there were\r
+anyone that one could apply to with a probability of gaining such a\r
+clue as that, it might be of essential consequence. At present we have\r
+nothing to guide us. Colonel Forster will, I dare say, do everything in\r
+his power to satisfy us on this head. But, on second thoughts, perhaps,\r
+Lizzy could tell us what relations he has now living, better than any\r
+other person."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth was at no loss to understand from whence this deference to her\r
+authority proceeded; but it was not in her power to give any information\r
+of so satisfactory a nature as the compliment deserved. She had never\r
+heard of his having had any relations, except a father and mother, both\r
+of whom had been dead many years. It was possible, however, that some of\r
+his companions in the ----shire might be able to give more information;\r
+and though she was not very sanguine in expecting it, the application\r
+was a something to look forward to.\r
+\r
+Every day at Longbourn was now a day of anxiety; but the most anxious\r
+part of each was when the post was expected. The arrival of letters\r
+was the grand object of every morning's impatience. Through letters,\r
+whatever of good or bad was to be told would be communicated, and every\r
+succeeding day was expected to bring some news of importance.\r
+\r
+But before they heard again from Mr. Gardiner, a letter arrived for\r
+their father, from a different quarter, from Mr. Collins; which, as Jane\r
+had received directions to open all that came for him in his absence,\r
+she accordingly read; and Elizabeth, who knew what curiosities his\r
+letters always were, looked over her, and read it likewise. It was as\r
+follows:\r
+\r
+"MY DEAR SIR,\r
+\r
+"I feel myself called upon, by our relationship, and my situation\r
+in life, to condole with you on the grievous affliction you are now\r
+suffering under, of which we were yesterday informed by a letter from\r
+Hertfordshire. Be assured, my dear sir, that Mrs. Collins and myself\r
+sincerely sympathise with you and all your respectable family, in\r
+your present distress, which must be of the bitterest kind, because\r
+proceeding from a cause which no time can remove. No arguments shall be\r
+wanting on my part that can alleviate so severe a misfortune--or that\r
+may comfort you, under a circumstance that must be of all others the\r
+most afflicting to a parent's mind. The death of your daughter would\r
+have been a blessing in comparison of this. And it is the more to\r
+be lamented, because there is reason to suppose as my dear Charlotte\r
+informs me, that this licentiousness of behaviour in your daughter has\r
+proceeded from a faulty degree of indulgence; though, at the same time,\r
+for the consolation of yourself and Mrs. Bennet, I am inclined to think\r
+that her own disposition must be naturally bad, or she could not be\r
+guilty of such an enormity, at so early an age. Howsoever that may be,\r
+you are grievously to be pitied; in which opinion I am not only joined\r
+by Mrs. Collins, but likewise by Lady Catherine and her daughter, to\r
+whom I have related the affair. They agree with me in apprehending that\r
+this false step in one daughter will be injurious to the fortunes of\r
+all the others; for who, as Lady Catherine herself condescendingly says,\r
+will connect themselves with such a family? And this consideration leads\r
+me moreover to reflect, with augmented satisfaction, on a certain event\r
+of last November; for had it been otherwise, I must have been involved\r
+in all your sorrow and disgrace. Let me then advise you, dear sir, to\r
+console yourself as much as possible, to throw off your unworthy child\r
+from your affection for ever, and leave her to reap the fruits of her\r
+own heinous offense.\r
+\r
+"I am, dear sir, etc., etc."\r
+\r
+Mr. Gardiner did not write again till he had received an answer from\r
+Colonel Forster; and then he had nothing of a pleasant nature to send.\r
+It was not known that Wickham had a single relationship with whom he\r
+kept up any connection, and it was certain that he had no near one\r
+living. His former acquaintances had been numerous; but since he\r
+had been in the militia, it did not appear that he was on terms of\r
+particular friendship with any of them. There was no one, therefore,\r
+who could be pointed out as likely to give any news of him. And in the\r
+wretched state of his own finances, there was a very powerful motive for\r
+secrecy, in addition to his fear of discovery by Lydia's relations, for\r
+it had just transpired that he had left gaming debts behind him to a\r
+very considerable amount. Colonel Forster believed that more than a\r
+thousand pounds would be necessary to clear his expenses at Brighton.\r
+He owed a good deal in town, but his debts of honour were still more\r
+formidable. Mr. Gardiner did not attempt to conceal these particulars\r
+from the Longbourn family. Jane heard them with horror. "A gamester!"\r
+she cried. "This is wholly unexpected. I had not an idea of it."\r
+\r
+Mr. Gardiner added in his letter, that they might expect to see their\r
+father at home on the following day, which was Saturday. Rendered\r
+spiritless by the ill-success of all their endeavours, he had yielded\r
+to his brother-in-law's entreaty that he would return to his family, and\r
+leave it to him to do whatever occasion might suggest to be advisable\r
+for continuing their pursuit. When Mrs. Bennet was told of this, she did\r
+not express so much satisfaction as her children expected, considering\r
+what her anxiety for his life had been before.\r
+\r
+"What, is he coming home, and without poor Lydia?" she cried. "Sure he\r
+will not leave London before he has found them. Who is to fight Wickham,\r
+and make him marry her, if he comes away?"\r
+\r
+As Mrs. Gardiner began to wish to be at home, it was settled that she\r
+and the children should go to London, at the same time that Mr. Bennet\r
+came from it. The coach, therefore, took them the first stage of their\r
+journey, and brought its master back to Longbourn.\r
+\r
+Mrs. Gardiner went away in all the perplexity about Elizabeth and her\r
+Derbyshire friend that had attended her from that part of the world. His\r
+name had never been voluntarily mentioned before them by her niece; and\r
+the kind of half-expectation which Mrs. Gardiner had formed, of their\r
+being followed by a letter from him, had ended in nothing. Elizabeth had\r
+received none since her return that could come from Pemberley.\r
+\r
+The present unhappy state of the family rendered any other excuse for\r
+the lowness of her spirits unnecessary; nothing, therefore, could be\r
+fairly conjectured from _that_, though Elizabeth, who was by this time\r
+tolerably well acquainted with her own feelings, was perfectly aware\r
+that, had she known nothing of Darcy, she could have borne the dread of\r
+Lydia's infamy somewhat better. It would have spared her, she thought,\r
+one sleepless night out of two.\r
+\r
+When Mr. Bennet arrived, he had all the appearance of his usual\r
+philosophic composure. He said as little as he had ever been in the\r
+habit of saying; made no mention of the business that had taken him\r
+away, and it was some time before his daughters had courage to speak of\r
+it.\r
+\r
+It was not till the afternoon, when he had joined them at tea, that\r
+Elizabeth ventured to introduce the subject; and then, on her briefly\r
+expressing her sorrow for what he must have endured, he replied, "Say\r
+nothing of that. Who should suffer but myself? It has been my own doing,\r
+and I ought to feel it."\r
+\r
+"You must not be too severe upon yourself," replied Elizabeth.\r
+\r
+"You may well warn me against such an evil. Human nature is so prone\r
+to fall into it! No, Lizzy, let me once in my life feel how much I have\r
+been to blame. I am not afraid of being overpowered by the impression.\r
+It will pass away soon enough."\r
+\r
+"Do you suppose them to be in London?"\r
+\r
+"Yes; where else can they be so well concealed?"\r
+\r
+"And Lydia used to want to go to London," added Kitty.\r
+\r
+"She is happy then," said her father drily; "and her residence there\r
+will probably be of some duration."\r
+\r
+Then after a short silence he continued:\r
+\r
+"Lizzy, I bear you no ill-will for being justified in your advice to me\r
+last May, which, considering the event, shows some greatness of mind."\r
+\r
+They were interrupted by Miss Bennet, who came to fetch her mother's\r
+tea.\r
+\r
+"This is a parade," he cried, "which does one good; it gives such an\r
+elegance to misfortune! Another day I will do the same; I will sit in my\r
+library, in my nightcap and powdering gown, and give as much trouble as\r
+I can; or, perhaps, I may defer it till Kitty runs away."\r
+\r
+"I am not going to run away, papa," said Kitty fretfully. "If I should\r
+ever go to Brighton, I would behave better than Lydia."\r
+\r
+"_You_ go to Brighton. I would not trust you so near it as Eastbourne\r
+for fifty pounds! No, Kitty, I have at last learnt to be cautious, and\r
+you will feel the effects of it. No officer is ever to enter into\r
+my house again, nor even to pass through the village. Balls will be\r
+absolutely prohibited, unless you stand up with one of your sisters.\r
+And you are never to stir out of doors till you can prove that you have\r
+spent ten minutes of every day in a rational manner."\r
+\r
+Kitty, who took all these threats in a serious light, began to cry.\r
+\r
+"Well, well," said he, "do not make yourself unhappy. If you are a good\r
+girl for the next ten years, I will take you to a review at the end of\r
+them."\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 49\r
+\r
+\r
+Two days after Mr. Bennet's return, as Jane and Elizabeth were walking\r
+together in the shrubbery behind the house, they saw the housekeeper\r
+coming towards them, and, concluding that she came to call them to their\r
+mother, went forward to meet her; but, instead of the expected summons,\r
+when they approached her, she said to Miss Bennet, "I beg your pardon,\r
+madam, for interrupting you, but I was in hopes you might have got some\r
+good news from town, so I took the liberty of coming to ask."\r
+\r
+"What do you mean, Hill? We have heard nothing from town."\r
+\r
+"Dear madam," cried Mrs. Hill, in great astonishment, "don't you know\r
+there is an express come for master from Mr. Gardiner? He has been here\r
+this half-hour, and master has had a letter."\r
+\r
+Away ran the girls, too eager to get in to have time for speech. They\r
+ran through the vestibule into the breakfast-room; from thence to the\r
+library; their father was in neither; and they were on the point of\r
+seeking him up stairs with their mother, when they were met by the\r
+butler, who said:\r
+\r
+"If you are looking for my master, ma'am, he is walking towards the\r
+little copse."\r
+\r
+Upon this information, they instantly passed through the hall once\r
+more, and ran across the lawn after their father, who was deliberately\r
+pursuing his way towards a small wood on one side of the paddock.\r
+\r
+Jane, who was not so light nor so much in the habit of running as\r
+Elizabeth, soon lagged behind, while her sister, panting for breath,\r
+came up with him, and eagerly cried out:\r
+\r
+"Oh, papa, what news--what news? Have you heard from my uncle?"\r
+\r
+"Yes I have had a letter from him by express."\r
+\r
+"Well, and what news does it bring--good or bad?"\r
+\r
+"What is there of good to be expected?" said he, taking the letter from\r
+his pocket. "But perhaps you would like to read it."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth impatiently caught it from his hand. Jane now came up.\r
+\r
+"Read it aloud," said their father, "for I hardly know myself what it is\r
+about."\r
+\r
+"Gracechurch Street, Monday, August 2.\r
+\r
+"MY DEAR BROTHER,\r
+\r
+"At last I am able to send you some tidings of my niece, and such as,\r
+upon the whole, I hope it will give you satisfaction. Soon after you\r
+left me on Saturday, I was fortunate enough to find out in what part of\r
+London they were. The particulars I reserve till we meet; it is enough\r
+to know they are discovered. I have seen them both--"\r
+\r
+"Then it is as I always hoped," cried Jane; "they are married!"\r
+\r
+Elizabeth read on:\r
+\r
+"I have seen them both. They are not married, nor can I find there\r
+was any intention of being so; but if you are willing to perform the\r
+engagements which I have ventured to make on your side, I hope it will\r
+not be long before they are. All that is required of you is, to assure\r
+to your daughter, by settlement, her equal share of the five thousand\r
+pounds secured among your children after the decease of yourself and\r
+my sister; and, moreover, to enter into an engagement of allowing her,\r
+during your life, one hundred pounds per annum. These are conditions\r
+which, considering everything, I had no hesitation in complying with,\r
+as far as I thought myself privileged, for you. I shall send this by\r
+express, that no time may be lost in bringing me your answer. You\r
+will easily comprehend, from these particulars, that Mr. Wickham's\r
+circumstances are not so hopeless as they are generally believed to be.\r
+The world has been deceived in that respect; and I am happy to say there\r
+will be some little money, even when all his debts are discharged, to\r
+settle on my niece, in addition to her own fortune. If, as I conclude\r
+will be the case, you send me full powers to act in your name throughout\r
+the whole of this business, I will immediately give directions to\r
+Haggerston for preparing a proper settlement. There will not be the\r
+smallest occasion for your coming to town again; therefore stay quiet at\r
+Longbourn, and depend on my diligence and care. Send back your answer as\r
+fast as you can, and be careful to write explicitly. We have judged it\r
+best that my niece should be married from this house, of which I hope\r
+you will approve. She comes to us to-day. I shall write again as soon as\r
+anything more is determined on. Yours, etc.,\r
+\r
+"EDW. GARDINER."\r
+\r
+"Is it possible?" cried Elizabeth, when she had finished. "Can it be\r
+possible that he will marry her?"\r
+\r
+"Wickham is not so undeserving, then, as we thought him," said her\r
+sister. "My dear father, I congratulate you."\r
+\r
+"And have you answered the letter?" cried Elizabeth.\r
+\r
+"No; but it must be done soon."\r
+\r
+Most earnestly did she then entreat him to lose no more time before he\r
+wrote.\r
+\r
+"Oh! my dear father," she cried, "come back and write immediately.\r
+Consider how important every moment is in such a case."\r
+\r
+"Let me write for you," said Jane, "if you dislike the trouble\r
+yourself."\r
+\r
+"I dislike it very much," he replied; "but it must be done."\r
+\r
+And so saying, he turned back with them, and walked towards the house.\r
+\r
+"And may I ask--" said Elizabeth; "but the terms, I suppose, must be\r
+complied with."\r
+\r
+"Complied with! I am only ashamed of his asking so little."\r
+\r
+"And they _must_ marry! Yet he is _such_ a man!"\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes, they must marry. There is nothing else to be done. But there\r
+are two things that I want very much to know; one is, how much money\r
+your uncle has laid down to bring it about; and the other, how am I ever\r
+to pay him."\r
+\r
+"Money! My uncle!" cried Jane, "what do you mean, sir?"\r
+\r
+"I mean, that no man in his senses would marry Lydia on so slight a\r
+temptation as one hundred a year during my life, and fifty after I am\r
+gone."\r
+\r
+"That is very true," said Elizabeth; "though it had not occurred to me\r
+before. His debts to be discharged, and something still to remain! Oh!\r
+it must be my uncle's doings! Generous, good man, I am afraid he has\r
+distressed himself. A small sum could not do all this."\r
+\r
+"No," said her father; "Wickham's a fool if he takes her with a farthing\r
+less than ten thousand pounds. I should be sorry to think so ill of him,\r
+in the very beginning of our relationship."\r
+\r
+"Ten thousand pounds! Heaven forbid! How is half such a sum to be\r
+repaid?"\r
+\r
+Mr. Bennet made no answer, and each of them, deep in thought, continued\r
+silent till they reached the house. Their father then went on to the\r
+library to write, and the girls walked into the breakfast-room.\r
+\r
+"And they are really to be married!" cried Elizabeth, as soon as they\r
+were by themselves. "How strange this is! And for _this_ we are to be\r
+thankful. That they should marry, small as is their chance of happiness,\r
+and wretched as is his character, we are forced to rejoice. Oh, Lydia!"\r
+\r
+"I comfort myself with thinking," replied Jane, "that he certainly would\r
+not marry Lydia if he had not a real regard for her. Though our kind\r
+uncle has done something towards clearing him, I cannot believe that ten\r
+thousand pounds, or anything like it, has been advanced. He has children\r
+of his own, and may have more. How could he spare half ten thousand\r
+pounds?"\r
+\r
+"If he were ever able to learn what Wickham's debts have been," said\r
+Elizabeth, "and how much is settled on his side on our sister, we shall\r
+exactly know what Mr. Gardiner has done for them, because Wickham has\r
+not sixpence of his own. The kindness of my uncle and aunt can never\r
+be requited. Their taking her home, and affording her their personal\r
+protection and countenance, is such a sacrifice to her advantage as\r
+years of gratitude cannot enough acknowledge. By this time she is\r
+actually with them! If such goodness does not make her miserable now,\r
+she will never deserve to be happy! What a meeting for her, when she\r
+first sees my aunt!"\r
+\r
+"We must endeavour to forget all that has passed on either side," said\r
+Jane: "I hope and trust they will yet be happy. His consenting to\r
+marry her is a proof, I will believe, that he is come to a right way of\r
+thinking. Their mutual affection will steady them; and I flatter myself\r
+they will settle so quietly, and live in so rational a manner, as may in\r
+time make their past imprudence forgotten."\r
+\r
+"Their conduct has been such," replied Elizabeth, "as neither you, nor\r
+I, nor anybody can ever forget. It is useless to talk of it."\r
+\r
+It now occurred to the girls that their mother was in all likelihood\r
+perfectly ignorant of what had happened. They went to the library,\r
+therefore, and asked their father whether he would not wish them to make\r
+it known to her. He was writing and, without raising his head, coolly\r
+replied:\r
+\r
+"Just as you please."\r
+\r
+"May we take my uncle's letter to read to her?"\r
+\r
+"Take whatever you like, and get away."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth took the letter from his writing-table, and they went up stairs\r
+together. Mary and Kitty were both with Mrs. Bennet: one communication\r
+would, therefore, do for all. After a slight preparation for good news,\r
+the letter was read aloud. Mrs. Bennet could hardly contain herself. As\r
+soon as Jane had read Mr. Gardiner's hope of Lydia's being soon\r
+married, her joy burst forth, and every following sentence added to its\r
+exuberance. She was now in an irritation as violent from delight, as she\r
+had ever been fidgety from alarm and vexation. To know that her daughter\r
+would be married was enough. She was disturbed by no fear for her\r
+felicity, nor humbled by any remembrance of her misconduct.\r
+\r
+"My dear, dear Lydia!" she cried. "This is delightful indeed! She will\r
+be married! I shall see her again! She will be married at sixteen!\r
+My good, kind brother! I knew how it would be. I knew he would manage\r
+everything! How I long to see her! and to see dear Wickham too! But the\r
+clothes, the wedding clothes! I will write to my sister Gardiner about\r
+them directly. Lizzy, my dear, run down to your father, and ask him\r
+how much he will give her. Stay, stay, I will go myself. Ring the bell,\r
+Kitty, for Hill. I will put on my things in a moment. My dear, dear\r
+Lydia! How merry we shall be together when we meet!"\r
+\r
+Her eldest daughter endeavoured to give some relief to the violence of\r
+these transports, by leading her thoughts to the obligations which Mr.\r
+Gardiner's behaviour laid them all under.\r
+\r
+"For we must attribute this happy conclusion," she added, "in a great\r
+measure to his kindness. We are persuaded that he has pledged himself to\r
+assist Mr. Wickham with money."\r
+\r
+"Well," cried her mother, "it is all very right; who should do it but\r
+her own uncle? If he had not had a family of his own, I and my children\r
+must have had all his money, you know; and it is the first time we have\r
+ever had anything from him, except a few presents. Well! I am so happy!\r
+In a short time I shall have a daughter married. Mrs. Wickham! How well\r
+it sounds! And she was only sixteen last June. My dear Jane, I am in\r
+such a flutter, that I am sure I can't write; so I will dictate, and\r
+you write for me. We will settle with your father about the money\r
+afterwards; but the things should be ordered immediately."\r
+\r
+She was then proceeding to all the particulars of calico, muslin, and\r
+cambric, and would shortly have dictated some very plentiful orders, had\r
+not Jane, though with some difficulty, persuaded her to wait till her\r
+father was at leisure to be consulted. One day's delay, she observed,\r
+would be of small importance; and her mother was too happy to be quite\r
+so obstinate as usual. Other schemes, too, came into her head.\r
+\r
+"I will go to Meryton," said she, "as soon as I am dressed, and tell the\r
+good, good news to my sister Philips. And as I come back, I can call\r
+on Lady Lucas and Mrs. Long. Kitty, run down and order the carriage.\r
+An airing would do me a great deal of good, I am sure. Girls, can I do\r
+anything for you in Meryton? Oh! Here comes Hill! My dear Hill, have you\r
+heard the good news? Miss Lydia is going to be married; and you shall\r
+all have a bowl of punch to make merry at her wedding."\r
+\r
+Mrs. Hill began instantly to express her joy. Elizabeth received her\r
+congratulations amongst the rest, and then, sick of this folly, took\r
+refuge in her own room, that she might think with freedom.\r
+\r
+Poor Lydia's situation must, at best, be bad enough; but that it was\r
+no worse, she had need to be thankful. She felt it so; and though, in\r
+looking forward, neither rational happiness nor worldly prosperity could\r
+be justly expected for her sister, in looking back to what they had\r
+feared, only two hours ago, she felt all the advantages of what they had\r
+gained.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 50\r
+\r
+\r
+Mr. Bennet had very often wished before this period of his life that,\r
+instead of spending his whole income, he had laid by an annual sum for\r
+the better provision of his children, and of his wife, if she survived\r
+him. He now wished it more than ever. Had he done his duty in that\r
+respect, Lydia need not have been indebted to her uncle for whatever\r
+of honour or credit could now be purchased for her. The satisfaction of\r
+prevailing on one of the most worthless young men in Great Britain to be\r
+her husband might then have rested in its proper place.\r
+\r
+He was seriously concerned that a cause of so little advantage to anyone\r
+should be forwarded at the sole expense of his brother-in-law, and he\r
+was determined, if possible, to find out the extent of his assistance,\r
+and to discharge the obligation as soon as he could.\r
+\r
+When first Mr. Bennet had married, economy was held to be perfectly\r
+useless, for, of course, they were to have a son. The son was to join\r
+in cutting off the entail, as soon as he should be of age, and the widow\r
+and younger children would by that means be provided for. Five daughters\r
+successively entered the world, but yet the son was to come; and Mrs.\r
+Bennet, for many years after Lydia's birth, had been certain that he\r
+would. This event had at last been despaired of, but it was then\r
+too late to be saving. Mrs. Bennet had no turn for economy, and her\r
+husband's love of independence had alone prevented their exceeding their\r
+income.\r
+\r
+Five thousand pounds was settled by marriage articles on Mrs. Bennet and\r
+the children. But in what proportions it should be divided amongst the\r
+latter depended on the will of the parents. This was one point, with\r
+regard to Lydia, at least, which was now to be settled, and Mr. Bennet\r
+could have no hesitation in acceding to the proposal before him. In\r
+terms of grateful acknowledgment for the kindness of his brother,\r
+though expressed most concisely, he then delivered on paper his perfect\r
+approbation of all that was done, and his willingness to fulfil the\r
+engagements that had been made for him. He had never before supposed\r
+that, could Wickham be prevailed on to marry his daughter, it would\r
+be done with so little inconvenience to himself as by the present\r
+arrangement. He would scarcely be ten pounds a year the loser by the\r
+hundred that was to be paid them; for, what with her board and pocket\r
+allowance, and the continual presents in money which passed to her\r
+through her mother's hands, Lydia's expenses had been very little within\r
+that sum.\r
+\r
+That it would be done with such trifling exertion on his side, too, was\r
+another very welcome surprise; for his wish at present was to have as\r
+little trouble in the business as possible. When the first transports\r
+of rage which had produced his activity in seeking her were over, he\r
+naturally returned to all his former indolence. His letter was soon\r
+dispatched; for, though dilatory in undertaking business, he was quick\r
+in its execution. He begged to know further particulars of what he\r
+was indebted to his brother, but was too angry with Lydia to send any\r
+message to her.\r
+\r
+The good news spread quickly through the house, and with proportionate\r
+speed through the neighbourhood. It was borne in the latter with decent\r
+philosophy. To be sure, it would have been more for the advantage\r
+of conversation had Miss Lydia Bennet come upon the town; or, as the\r
+happiest alternative, been secluded from the world, in some distant\r
+farmhouse. But there was much to be talked of in marrying her; and the\r
+good-natured wishes for her well-doing which had proceeded before from\r
+all the spiteful old ladies in Meryton lost but a little of their spirit\r
+in this change of circumstances, because with such an husband her misery\r
+was considered certain.\r
+\r
+It was a fortnight since Mrs. Bennet had been downstairs; but on this\r
+happy day she again took her seat at the head of her table, and in\r
+spirits oppressively high. No sentiment of shame gave a damp to her\r
+triumph. The marriage of a daughter, which had been the first object\r
+of her wishes since Jane was sixteen, was now on the point of\r
+accomplishment, and her thoughts and her words ran wholly on those\r
+attendants of elegant nuptials, fine muslins, new carriages, and\r
+servants. She was busily searching through the neighbourhood for a\r
+proper situation for her daughter, and, without knowing or considering\r
+what their income might be, rejected many as deficient in size and\r
+importance.\r
+\r
+"Haye Park might do," said she, "if the Gouldings could quit it--or the\r
+great house at Stoke, if the drawing-room were larger; but Ashworth is\r
+too far off! I could not bear to have her ten miles from me; and as for\r
+Pulvis Lodge, the attics are dreadful."\r
+\r
+Her husband allowed her to talk on without interruption while the\r
+servants remained. But when they had withdrawn, he said to her: "Mrs.\r
+Bennet, before you take any or all of these houses for your son and\r
+daughter, let us come to a right understanding. Into _one_ house in this\r
+neighbourhood they shall never have admittance. I will not encourage the\r
+impudence of either, by receiving them at Longbourn."\r
+\r
+A long dispute followed this declaration; but Mr. Bennet was firm. It\r
+soon led to another; and Mrs. Bennet found, with amazement and horror,\r
+that her husband would not advance a guinea to buy clothes for his\r
+daughter. He protested that she should receive from him no mark of\r
+affection whatever on the occasion. Mrs. Bennet could hardly comprehend\r
+it. That his anger could be carried to such a point of inconceivable\r
+resentment as to refuse his daughter a privilege without which her\r
+marriage would scarcely seem valid, exceeded all she could believe\r
+possible. She was more alive to the disgrace which her want of new\r
+clothes must reflect on her daughter's nuptials, than to any sense of\r
+shame at her eloping and living with Wickham a fortnight before they\r
+took place.\r
+\r
+Elizabeth was now most heartily sorry that she had, from the distress of\r
+the moment, been led to make Mr. Darcy acquainted with their fears for\r
+her sister; for since her marriage would so shortly give the\r
+proper termination to the elopement, they might hope to conceal its\r
+unfavourable beginning from all those who were not immediately on the\r
+spot.\r
+\r
+She had no fear of its spreading farther through his means. There were\r
+few people on whose secrecy she would have more confidently depended;\r
+but, at the same time, there was no one whose knowledge of a sister's\r
+frailty would have mortified her so much--not, however, from any fear\r
+of disadvantage from it individually to herself, for, at any rate,\r
+there seemed a gulf impassable between them. Had Lydia's marriage been\r
+concluded on the most honourable terms, it was not to be supposed that\r
+Mr. Darcy would connect himself with a family where, to every other\r
+objection, would now be added an alliance and relationship of the\r
+nearest kind with a man whom he so justly scorned.\r
+\r
+From such a connection she could not wonder that he would shrink. The\r
+wish of procuring her regard, which she had assured herself of his\r
+feeling in Derbyshire, could not in rational expectation survive such a\r
+blow as this. She was humbled, she was grieved; she repented, though she\r
+hardly knew of what. She became jealous of his esteem, when she could no\r
+longer hope to be benefited by it. She wanted to hear of him, when there\r
+seemed the least chance of gaining intelligence. She was convinced that\r
+she could have been happy with him, when it was no longer likely they\r
+should meet.\r
+\r
+What a triumph for him, as she often thought, could he know that the\r
+proposals which she had proudly spurned only four months ago, would now\r
+have been most gladly and gratefully received! He was as generous, she\r
+doubted not, as the most generous of his sex; but while he was mortal,\r
+there must be a triumph.\r
+\r
+She began now to comprehend that he was exactly the man who, in\r
+disposition and talents, would most suit her. His understanding and\r
+temper, though unlike her own, would have answered all her wishes. It\r
+was an union that must have been to the advantage of both; by her ease\r
+and liveliness, his mind might have been softened, his manners improved;\r
+and from his judgement, information, and knowledge of the world, she\r
+must have received benefit of greater importance.\r
+\r
+But no such happy marriage could now teach the admiring multitude what\r
+connubial felicity really was. An union of a different tendency, and\r
+precluding the possibility of the other, was soon to be formed in their\r
+family.\r
+\r
+How Wickham and Lydia were to be supported in tolerable independence,\r
+she could not imagine. But how little of permanent happiness could\r
+belong to a couple who were only brought together because their passions\r
+were stronger than their virtue, she could easily conjecture.\r
+\r
+ * * * * *\r
+\r
+Mr. Gardiner soon wrote again to his brother. To Mr. Bennet's\r
+acknowledgments he briefly replied, with assurance of his eagerness to\r
+promote the welfare of any of his family; and concluded with entreaties\r
+that the subject might never be mentioned to him again. The principal\r
+purport of his letter was to inform them that Mr. Wickham had resolved\r
+on quitting the militia.\r
+\r
+"It was greatly my wish that he should do so," he added, "as soon as\r
+his marriage was fixed on. And I think you will agree with me, in\r
+considering the removal from that corps as highly advisable, both on\r
+his account and my niece's. It is Mr. Wickham's intention to go into\r
+the regulars; and among his former friends, there are still some who\r
+are able and willing to assist him in the army. He has the promise of an\r
+ensigncy in General ----'s regiment, now quartered in the North. It\r
+is an advantage to have it so far from this part of the kingdom. He\r
+promises fairly; and I hope among different people, where they may each\r
+have a character to preserve, they will both be more prudent. I have\r
+written to Colonel Forster, to inform him of our present arrangements,\r
+and to request that he will satisfy the various creditors of Mr. Wickham\r
+in and near Brighton, with assurances of speedy payment, for which I\r
+have pledged myself. And will you give yourself the trouble of carrying\r
+similar assurances to his creditors in Meryton, of whom I shall subjoin\r
+a list according to his information? He has given in all his debts; I\r
+hope at least he has not deceived us. Haggerston has our directions,\r
+and all will be completed in a week. They will then join his regiment,\r
+unless they are first invited to Longbourn; and I understand from Mrs.\r
+Gardiner, that my niece is very desirous of seeing you all before she\r
+leaves the South. She is well, and begs to be dutifully remembered to\r
+you and her mother.--Yours, etc.,\r
+\r
+"E. GARDINER."\r
+\r
+Mr. Bennet and his daughters saw all the advantages of Wickham's removal\r
+from the ----shire as clearly as Mr. Gardiner could do. But Mrs. Bennet\r
+was not so well pleased with it. Lydia's being settled in the North,\r
+just when she had expected most pleasure and pride in her company,\r
+for she had by no means given up her plan of their residing in\r
+Hertfordshire, was a severe disappointment; and, besides, it was such a\r
+pity that Lydia should be taken from a regiment where she was acquainted\r
+with everybody, and had so many favourites.\r
+\r
+"She is so fond of Mrs. Forster," said she, "it will be quite shocking\r
+to send her away! And there are several of the young men, too, that she\r
+likes very much. The officers may not be so pleasant in General ----'s\r
+regiment."\r
+\r
+His daughter's request, for such it might be considered, of being\r
+admitted into her family again before she set off for the North,\r
+received at first an absolute negative. But Jane and Elizabeth,\r
+who agreed in wishing, for the sake of their sister's feelings and\r
+consequence, that she should be noticed on her marriage by her parents,\r
+urged him so earnestly yet so rationally and so mildly, to receive her\r
+and her husband at Longbourn, as soon as they were married, that he was\r
+prevailed on to think as they thought, and act as they wished. And their\r
+mother had the satisfaction of knowing that she would be able to show\r
+her married daughter in the neighbourhood before she was banished to the\r
+North. When Mr. Bennet wrote again to his brother, therefore, he sent\r
+his permission for them to come; and it was settled, that as soon as\r
+the ceremony was over, they should proceed to Longbourn. Elizabeth was\r
+surprised, however, that Wickham should consent to such a scheme, and\r
+had she consulted only her own inclination, any meeting with him would\r
+have been the last object of her wishes.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 51\r
+\r
+\r
+Their sister's wedding day arrived; and Jane and Elizabeth felt for her\r
+probably more than she felt for herself. The carriage was sent to\r
+meet them at ----, and they were to return in it by dinner-time. Their\r
+arrival was dreaded by the elder Miss Bennets, and Jane more especially,\r
+who gave Lydia the feelings which would have attended herself, had she\r
+been the culprit, and was wretched in the thought of what her sister\r
+must endure.\r
+\r
+They came. The family were assembled in the breakfast room to receive\r
+them. Smiles decked the face of Mrs. Bennet as the carriage drove up to\r
+the door; her husband looked impenetrably grave; her daughters, alarmed,\r
+anxious, uneasy.\r
+\r
+Lydia's voice was heard in the vestibule; the door was thrown open, and\r
+she ran into the room. Her mother stepped forwards, embraced her, and\r
+welcomed her with rapture; gave her hand, with an affectionate smile,\r
+to Wickham, who followed his lady; and wished them both joy with an\r
+alacrity which shewed no doubt of their happiness.\r
+\r
+Their reception from Mr. Bennet, to whom they then turned, was not quite\r
+so cordial. His countenance rather gained in austerity; and he scarcely\r
+opened his lips. The easy assurance of the young couple, indeed, was\r
+enough to provoke him. Elizabeth was disgusted, and even Miss Bennet\r
+was shocked. Lydia was Lydia still; untamed, unabashed, wild, noisy,\r
+and fearless. She turned from sister to sister, demanding their\r
+congratulations; and when at length they all sat down, looked eagerly\r
+round the room, took notice of some little alteration in it, and\r
+observed, with a laugh, that it was a great while since she had been\r
+there.\r
+\r
+Wickham was not at all more distressed than herself, but his manners\r
+were always so pleasing, that had his character and his marriage been\r
+exactly what they ought, his smiles and his easy address, while he\r
+claimed their relationship, would have delighted them all. Elizabeth had\r
+not before believed him quite equal to such assurance; but she sat down,\r
+resolving within herself to draw no limits in future to the impudence\r
+of an impudent man. She blushed, and Jane blushed; but the cheeks of the\r
+two who caused their confusion suffered no variation of colour.\r
+\r
+There was no want of discourse. The bride and her mother could neither\r
+of them talk fast enough; and Wickham, who happened to sit near\r
+Elizabeth, began inquiring after his acquaintance in that neighbourhood,\r
+with a good humoured ease which she felt very unable to equal in her\r
+replies. They seemed each of them to have the happiest memories in the\r
+world. Nothing of the past was recollected with pain; and Lydia led\r
+voluntarily to subjects which her sisters would not have alluded to for\r
+the world.\r
+\r
+"Only think of its being three months," she cried, "since I went away;\r
+it seems but a fortnight I declare; and yet there have been things\r
+enough happened in the time. Good gracious! when I went away, I am sure\r
+I had no more idea of being married till I came back again! though I\r
+thought it would be very good fun if I was."\r
+\r
+Her father lifted up his eyes. Jane was distressed. Elizabeth looked\r
+expressively at Lydia; but she, who never heard nor saw anything of\r
+which she chose to be insensible, gaily continued, "Oh! mamma, do the\r
+people hereabouts know I am married to-day? I was afraid they might not;\r
+and we overtook William Goulding in his curricle, so I was determined he\r
+should know it, and so I let down the side-glass next to him, and took\r
+off my glove, and let my hand just rest upon the window frame, so that\r
+he might see the ring, and then I bowed and smiled like anything."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth could bear it no longer. She got up, and ran out of the room;\r
+and returned no more, till she heard them passing through the hall to\r
+the dining parlour. She then joined them soon enough to see Lydia, with\r
+anxious parade, walk up to her mother's right hand, and hear her say\r
+to her eldest sister, "Ah! Jane, I take your place now, and you must go\r
+lower, because I am a married woman."\r
+\r
+It was not to be supposed that time would give Lydia that embarrassment\r
+from which she had been so wholly free at first. Her ease and good\r
+spirits increased. She longed to see Mrs. Phillips, the Lucases, and\r
+all their other neighbours, and to hear herself called "Mrs. Wickham"\r
+by each of them; and in the mean time, she went after dinner to show her\r
+ring, and boast of being married, to Mrs. Hill and the two housemaids.\r
+\r
+"Well, mamma," said she, when they were all returned to the breakfast\r
+room, "and what do you think of my husband? Is not he a charming man? I\r
+am sure my sisters must all envy me. I only hope they may have half\r
+my good luck. They must all go to Brighton. That is the place to get\r
+husbands. What a pity it is, mamma, we did not all go."\r
+\r
+"Very true; and if I had my will, we should. But my dear Lydia, I don't\r
+at all like your going such a way off. Must it be so?"\r
+\r
+"Oh, lord! yes;--there is nothing in that. I shall like it of all\r
+things. You and papa, and my sisters, must come down and see us. We\r
+shall be at Newcastle all the winter, and I dare say there will be some\r
+balls, and I will take care to get good partners for them all."\r
+\r
+"I should like it beyond anything!" said her mother.\r
+\r
+"And then when you go away, you may leave one or two of my sisters\r
+behind you; and I dare say I shall get husbands for them before the\r
+winter is over."\r
+\r
+"I thank you for my share of the favour," said Elizabeth; "but I do not\r
+particularly like your way of getting husbands."\r
+\r
+Their visitors were not to remain above ten days with them. Mr. Wickham\r
+had received his commission before he left London, and he was to join\r
+his regiment at the end of a fortnight.\r
+\r
+No one but Mrs. Bennet regretted that their stay would be so short; and\r
+she made the most of the time by visiting about with her daughter, and\r
+having very frequent parties at home. These parties were acceptable to\r
+all; to avoid a family circle was even more desirable to such as did\r
+think, than such as did not.\r
+\r
+Wickham's affection for Lydia was just what Elizabeth had expected\r
+to find it; not equal to Lydia's for him. She had scarcely needed her\r
+present observation to be satisfied, from the reason of things, that\r
+their elopement had been brought on by the strength of her love, rather\r
+than by his; and she would have wondered why, without violently caring\r
+for her, he chose to elope with her at all, had she not felt certain\r
+that his flight was rendered necessary by distress of circumstances; and\r
+if that were the case, he was not the young man to resist an opportunity\r
+of having a companion.\r
+\r
+Lydia was exceedingly fond of him. He was her dear Wickham on every\r
+occasion; no one was to be put in competition with him. He did every\r
+thing best in the world; and she was sure he would kill more birds on\r
+the first of September, than any body else in the country.\r
+\r
+One morning, soon after their arrival, as she was sitting with her two\r
+elder sisters, she said to Elizabeth:\r
+\r
+"Lizzy, I never gave _you_ an account of my wedding, I believe. You\r
+were not by, when I told mamma and the others all about it. Are not you\r
+curious to hear how it was managed?"\r
+\r
+"No really," replied Elizabeth; "I think there cannot be too little said\r
+on the subject."\r
+\r
+"La! You are so strange! But I must tell you how it went off. We were\r
+married, you know, at St. Clement's, because Wickham's lodgings were in\r
+that parish. And it was settled that we should all be there by eleven\r
+o'clock. My uncle and aunt and I were to go together; and the others\r
+were to meet us at the church. Well, Monday morning came, and I was in\r
+such a fuss! I was so afraid, you know, that something would happen to\r
+put it off, and then I should have gone quite distracted. And there was\r
+my aunt, all the time I was dressing, preaching and talking away just as\r
+if she was reading a sermon. However, I did not hear above one word in\r
+ten, for I was thinking, you may suppose, of my dear Wickham. I longed\r
+to know whether he would be married in his blue coat."\r
+\r
+"Well, and so we breakfasted at ten as usual; I thought it would never\r
+be over; for, by the bye, you are to understand, that my uncle and aunt\r
+were horrid unpleasant all the time I was with them. If you'll believe\r
+me, I did not once put my foot out of doors, though I was there a\r
+fortnight. Not one party, or scheme, or anything. To be sure London was\r
+rather thin, but, however, the Little Theatre was open. Well, and so\r
+just as the carriage came to the door, my uncle was called away upon\r
+business to that horrid man Mr. Stone. And then, you know, when once\r
+they get together, there is no end of it. Well, I was so frightened I\r
+did not know what to do, for my uncle was to give me away; and if we\r
+were beyond the hour, we could not be married all day. But, luckily, he\r
+came back again in ten minutes' time, and then we all set out. However,\r
+I recollected afterwards that if he had been prevented going, the\r
+wedding need not be put off, for Mr. Darcy might have done as well."\r
+\r
+"Mr. Darcy!" repeated Elizabeth, in utter amazement.\r
+\r
+"Oh, yes!--he was to come there with Wickham, you know. But gracious\r
+me! I quite forgot! I ought not to have said a word about it. I promised\r
+them so faithfully! What will Wickham say? It was to be such a secret!"\r
+\r
+"If it was to be secret," said Jane, "say not another word on the\r
+subject. You may depend upon my seeking no further."\r
+\r
+"Oh! certainly," said Elizabeth, though burning with curiosity; "we will\r
+ask you no questions."\r
+\r
+"Thank you," said Lydia, "for if you did, I should certainly tell you\r
+all, and then Wickham would be angry."\r
+\r
+On such encouragement to ask, Elizabeth was forced to put it out of her\r
+power, by running away.\r
+\r
+But to live in ignorance on such a point was impossible; or at least\r
+it was impossible not to try for information. Mr. Darcy had been at\r
+her sister's wedding. It was exactly a scene, and exactly among people,\r
+where he had apparently least to do, and least temptation to go.\r
+Conjectures as to the meaning of it, rapid and wild, hurried into her\r
+brain; but she was satisfied with none. Those that best pleased her, as\r
+placing his conduct in the noblest light, seemed most improbable. She\r
+could not bear such suspense; and hastily seizing a sheet of paper,\r
+wrote a short letter to her aunt, to request an explanation of what\r
+Lydia had dropt, if it were compatible with the secrecy which had been\r
+intended.\r
+\r
+"You may readily comprehend," she added, "what my curiosity must be\r
+to know how a person unconnected with any of us, and (comparatively\r
+speaking) a stranger to our family, should have been amongst you at such\r
+a time. Pray write instantly, and let me understand it--unless it is,\r
+for very cogent reasons, to remain in the secrecy which Lydia seems\r
+to think necessary; and then I must endeavour to be satisfied with\r
+ignorance."\r
+\r
+"Not that I _shall_, though," she added to herself, as she finished\r
+the letter; "and my dear aunt, if you do not tell me in an honourable\r
+manner, I shall certainly be reduced to tricks and stratagems to find it\r
+out."\r
+\r
+Jane's delicate sense of honour would not allow her to speak to\r
+Elizabeth privately of what Lydia had let fall; Elizabeth was glad\r
+of it;--till it appeared whether her inquiries would receive any\r
+satisfaction, she had rather be without a confidante.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 52\r
+\r
+\r
+Elizabeth had the satisfaction of receiving an answer to her letter as\r
+soon as she possibly could. She was no sooner in possession of it\r
+than, hurrying into the little copse, where she was least likely to\r
+be interrupted, she sat down on one of the benches and prepared to\r
+be happy; for the length of the letter convinced her that it did not\r
+contain a denial.\r
+\r
+"Gracechurch street, Sept. 6.\r
+\r
+"MY DEAR NIECE,\r
+\r
+"I have just received your letter, and shall devote this whole morning\r
+to answering it, as I foresee that a _little_ writing will not comprise\r
+what I have to tell you. I must confess myself surprised by your\r
+application; I did not expect it from _you_. Don't think me angry,\r
+however, for I only mean to let you know that I had not imagined such\r
+inquiries to be necessary on _your_ side. If you do not choose to\r
+understand me, forgive my impertinence. Your uncle is as much surprised\r
+as I am--and nothing but the belief of your being a party concerned\r
+would have allowed him to act as he has done. But if you are really\r
+innocent and ignorant, I must be more explicit.\r
+\r
+"On the very day of my coming home from Longbourn, your uncle had a most\r
+unexpected visitor. Mr. Darcy called, and was shut up with him several\r
+hours. It was all over before I arrived; so my curiosity was not so\r
+dreadfully racked as _yours_ seems to have been. He came to tell Mr.\r
+Gardiner that he had found out where your sister and Mr. Wickham were,\r
+and that he had seen and talked with them both; Wickham repeatedly,\r
+Lydia once. From what I can collect, he left Derbyshire only one day\r
+after ourselves, and came to town with the resolution of hunting for\r
+them. The motive professed was his conviction of its being owing to\r
+himself that Wickham's worthlessness had not been so well known as to\r
+make it impossible for any young woman of character to love or confide\r
+in him. He generously imputed the whole to his mistaken pride, and\r
+confessed that he had before thought it beneath him to lay his private\r
+actions open to the world. His character was to speak for itself. He\r
+called it, therefore, his duty to step forward, and endeavour to remedy\r
+an evil which had been brought on by himself. If he _had another_\r
+motive, I am sure it would never disgrace him. He had been some days\r
+in town, before he was able to discover them; but he had something to\r
+direct his search, which was more than _we_ had; and the consciousness\r
+of this was another reason for his resolving to follow us.\r
+\r
+"There is a lady, it seems, a Mrs. Younge, who was some time ago\r
+governess to Miss Darcy, and was dismissed from her charge on some cause\r
+of disapprobation, though he did not say what. She then took a large\r
+house in Edward-street, and has since maintained herself by letting\r
+lodgings. This Mrs. Younge was, he knew, intimately acquainted with\r
+Wickham; and he went to her for intelligence of him as soon as he got to\r
+town. But it was two or three days before he could get from her what he\r
+wanted. She would not betray her trust, I suppose, without bribery and\r
+corruption, for she really did know where her friend was to be found.\r
+Wickham indeed had gone to her on their first arrival in London, and had\r
+she been able to receive them into her house, they would have taken up\r
+their abode with her. At length, however, our kind friend procured the\r
+wished-for direction. They were in ---- street. He saw Wickham, and\r
+afterwards insisted on seeing Lydia. His first object with her, he\r
+acknowledged, had been to persuade her to quit her present disgraceful\r
+situation, and return to her friends as soon as they could be prevailed\r
+on to receive her, offering his assistance, as far as it would go. But\r
+he found Lydia absolutely resolved on remaining where she was. She cared\r
+for none of her friends; she wanted no help of his; she would not hear\r
+of leaving Wickham. She was sure they should be married some time or\r
+other, and it did not much signify when. Since such were her feelings,\r
+it only remained, he thought, to secure and expedite a marriage, which,\r
+in his very first conversation with Wickham, he easily learnt had never\r
+been _his_ design. He confessed himself obliged to leave the regiment,\r
+on account of some debts of honour, which were very pressing; and\r
+scrupled not to lay all the ill-consequences of Lydia's flight on her\r
+own folly alone. He meant to resign his commission immediately; and as\r
+to his future situation, he could conjecture very little about it. He\r
+must go somewhere, but he did not know where, and he knew he should have\r
+nothing to live on.\r
+\r
+"Mr. Darcy asked him why he had not married your sister at once. Though\r
+Mr. Bennet was not imagined to be very rich, he would have been able\r
+to do something for him, and his situation must have been benefited by\r
+marriage. But he found, in reply to this question, that Wickham still\r
+cherished the hope of more effectually making his fortune by marriage in\r
+some other country. Under such circumstances, however, he was not likely\r
+to be proof against the temptation of immediate relief.\r
+\r
+"They met several times, for there was much to be discussed. Wickham of\r
+course wanted more than he could get; but at length was reduced to be\r
+reasonable.\r
+\r
+"Every thing being settled between _them_, Mr. Darcy's next step was to\r
+make your uncle acquainted with it, and he first called in Gracechurch\r
+street the evening before I came home. But Mr. Gardiner could not be\r
+seen, and Mr. Darcy found, on further inquiry, that your father was\r
+still with him, but would quit town the next morning. He did not judge\r
+your father to be a person whom he could so properly consult as your\r
+uncle, and therefore readily postponed seeing him till after the\r
+departure of the former. He did not leave his name, and till the next\r
+day it was only known that a gentleman had called on business.\r
+\r
+"On Saturday he came again. Your father was gone, your uncle at home,\r
+and, as I said before, they had a great deal of talk together.\r
+\r
+"They met again on Sunday, and then _I_ saw him too. It was not all\r
+settled before Monday: as soon as it was, the express was sent off to\r
+Longbourn. But our visitor was very obstinate. I fancy, Lizzy, that\r
+obstinacy is the real defect of his character, after all. He has been\r
+accused of many faults at different times, but _this_ is the true one.\r
+Nothing was to be done that he did not do himself; though I am sure (and\r
+I do not speak it to be thanked, therefore say nothing about it), your\r
+uncle would most readily have settled the whole.\r
+\r
+"They battled it together for a long time, which was more than either\r
+the gentleman or lady concerned in it deserved. But at last your uncle\r
+was forced to yield, and instead of being allowed to be of use to his\r
+niece, was forced to put up with only having the probable credit of it,\r
+which went sorely against the grain; and I really believe your letter\r
+this morning gave him great pleasure, because it required an explanation\r
+that would rob him of his borrowed feathers, and give the praise where\r
+it was due. But, Lizzy, this must go no farther than yourself, or Jane\r
+at most.\r
+\r
+"You know pretty well, I suppose, what has been done for the young\r
+people. His debts are to be paid, amounting, I believe, to considerably\r
+more than a thousand pounds, another thousand in addition to her own\r
+settled upon _her_, and his commission purchased. The reason why all\r
+this was to be done by him alone, was such as I have given above. It\r
+was owing to him, to his reserve and want of proper consideration, that\r
+Wickham's character had been so misunderstood, and consequently that he\r
+had been received and noticed as he was. Perhaps there was some truth\r
+in _this_; though I doubt whether _his_ reserve, or _anybody's_ reserve,\r
+can be answerable for the event. But in spite of all this fine talking,\r
+my dear Lizzy, you may rest perfectly assured that your uncle would\r
+never have yielded, if we had not given him credit for _another\r
+interest_ in the affair.\r
+\r
+"When all this was resolved on, he returned again to his friends, who\r
+were still staying at Pemberley; but it was agreed that he should be in\r
+London once more when the wedding took place, and all money matters were\r
+then to receive the last finish.\r
+\r
+"I believe I have now told you every thing. It is a relation which\r
+you tell me is to give you great surprise; I hope at least it will not\r
+afford you any displeasure. Lydia came to us; and Wickham had constant\r
+admission to the house. _He_ was exactly what he had been, when I\r
+knew him in Hertfordshire; but I would not tell you how little I was\r
+satisfied with her behaviour while she staid with us, if I had not\r
+perceived, by Jane's letter last Wednesday, that her conduct on coming\r
+home was exactly of a piece with it, and therefore what I now tell\r
+you can give you no fresh pain. I talked to her repeatedly in the most\r
+serious manner, representing to her all the wickedness of what she had\r
+done, and all the unhappiness she had brought on her family. If she\r
+heard me, it was by good luck, for I am sure she did not listen. I was\r
+sometimes quite provoked, but then I recollected my dear Elizabeth and\r
+Jane, and for their sakes had patience with her.\r
+\r
+"Mr. Darcy was punctual in his return, and as Lydia informed you,\r
+attended the wedding. He dined with us the next day, and was to leave\r
+town again on Wednesday or Thursday. Will you be very angry with me, my\r
+dear Lizzy, if I take this opportunity of saying (what I was never bold\r
+enough to say before) how much I like him. His behaviour to us has,\r
+in every respect, been as pleasing as when we were in Derbyshire. His\r
+understanding and opinions all please me; he wants nothing but a little\r
+more liveliness, and _that_, if he marry _prudently_, his wife may teach\r
+him. I thought him very sly;--he hardly ever mentioned your name. But\r
+slyness seems the fashion.\r
+\r
+"Pray forgive me if I have been very presuming, or at least do not\r
+punish me so far as to exclude me from P. I shall never be quite happy\r
+till I have been all round the park. A low phaeton, with a nice little\r
+pair of ponies, would be the very thing.\r
+\r
+"But I must write no more. The children have been wanting me this half\r
+hour.\r
+\r
+"Yours, very sincerely,\r
+\r
+"M. GARDINER."\r
+\r
+The contents of this letter threw Elizabeth into a flutter of spirits,\r
+in which it was difficult to determine whether pleasure or pain bore the\r
+greatest share. The vague and unsettled suspicions which uncertainty had\r
+produced of what Mr. Darcy might have been doing to forward her sister's\r
+match, which she had feared to encourage as an exertion of goodness too\r
+great to be probable, and at the same time dreaded to be just, from the\r
+pain of obligation, were proved beyond their greatest extent to be true!\r
+He had followed them purposely to town, he had taken on himself all\r
+the trouble and mortification attendant on such a research; in which\r
+supplication had been necessary to a woman whom he must abominate and\r
+despise, and where he was reduced to meet, frequently meet, reason\r
+with, persuade, and finally bribe, the man whom he always most wished to\r
+avoid, and whose very name it was punishment to him to pronounce. He had\r
+done all this for a girl whom he could neither regard nor esteem. Her\r
+heart did whisper that he had done it for her. But it was a hope shortly\r
+checked by other considerations, and she soon felt that even her vanity\r
+was insufficient, when required to depend on his affection for her--for\r
+a woman who had already refused him--as able to overcome a sentiment so\r
+natural as abhorrence against relationship with Wickham. Brother-in-law\r
+of Wickham! Every kind of pride must revolt from the connection. He had,\r
+to be sure, done much. She was ashamed to think how much. But he had\r
+given a reason for his interference, which asked no extraordinary\r
+stretch of belief. It was reasonable that he should feel he had been\r
+wrong; he had liberality, and he had the means of exercising it; and\r
+though she would not place herself as his principal inducement, she\r
+could, perhaps, believe that remaining partiality for her might assist\r
+his endeavours in a cause where her peace of mind must be materially\r
+concerned. It was painful, exceedingly painful, to know that they were\r
+under obligations to a person who could never receive a return. They\r
+owed the restoration of Lydia, her character, every thing, to him. Oh!\r
+how heartily did she grieve over every ungracious sensation she had ever\r
+encouraged, every saucy speech she had ever directed towards him. For\r
+herself she was humbled; but she was proud of him. Proud that in a cause\r
+of compassion and honour, he had been able to get the better of himself.\r
+She read over her aunt's commendation of him again and again. It\r
+was hardly enough; but it pleased her. She was even sensible of some\r
+pleasure, though mixed with regret, on finding how steadfastly both she\r
+and her uncle had been persuaded that affection and confidence subsisted\r
+between Mr. Darcy and herself.\r
+\r
+She was roused from her seat, and her reflections, by some one's\r
+approach; and before she could strike into another path, she was\r
+overtaken by Wickham.\r
+\r
+"I am afraid I interrupt your solitary ramble, my dear sister?" said he,\r
+as he joined her.\r
+\r
+"You certainly do," she replied with a smile; "but it does not follow\r
+that the interruption must be unwelcome."\r
+\r
+"I should be sorry indeed, if it were. We were always good friends; and\r
+now we are better."\r
+\r
+"True. Are the others coming out?"\r
+\r
+"I do not know. Mrs. Bennet and Lydia are going in the carriage to\r
+Meryton. And so, my dear sister, I find, from our uncle and aunt, that\r
+you have actually seen Pemberley."\r
+\r
+She replied in the affirmative.\r
+\r
+"I almost envy you the pleasure, and yet I believe it would be too much\r
+for me, or else I could take it in my way to Newcastle. And you saw the\r
+old housekeeper, I suppose? Poor Reynolds, she was always very fond of\r
+me. But of course she did not mention my name to you."\r
+\r
+"Yes, she did."\r
+\r
+"And what did she say?"\r
+\r
+"That you were gone into the army, and she was afraid had--not turned\r
+out well. At such a distance as _that_, you know, things are strangely\r
+misrepresented."\r
+\r
+"Certainly," he replied, biting his lips. Elizabeth hoped she had\r
+silenced him; but he soon afterwards said:\r
+\r
+"I was surprised to see Darcy in town last month. We passed each other\r
+several times. I wonder what he can be doing there."\r
+\r
+"Perhaps preparing for his marriage with Miss de Bourgh," said\r
+Elizabeth. "It must be something particular, to take him there at this\r
+time of year."\r
+\r
+"Undoubtedly. Did you see him while you were at Lambton? I thought I\r
+understood from the Gardiners that you had."\r
+\r
+"Yes; he introduced us to his sister."\r
+\r
+"And do you like her?"\r
+\r
+"Very much."\r
+\r
+"I have heard, indeed, that she is uncommonly improved within this year\r
+or two. When I last saw her, she was not very promising. I am very glad\r
+you liked her. I hope she will turn out well."\r
+\r
+"I dare say she will; she has got over the most trying age."\r
+\r
+"Did you go by the village of Kympton?"\r
+\r
+"I do not recollect that we did."\r
+\r
+"I mention it, because it is the living which I ought to have had. A\r
+most delightful place!--Excellent Parsonage House! It would have suited\r
+me in every respect."\r
+\r
+"How should you have liked making sermons?"\r
+\r
+"Exceedingly well. I should have considered it as part of my duty,\r
+and the exertion would soon have been nothing. One ought not to\r
+repine;--but, to be sure, it would have been such a thing for me! The\r
+quiet, the retirement of such a life would have answered all my ideas\r
+of happiness! But it was not to be. Did you ever hear Darcy mention the\r
+circumstance, when you were in Kent?"\r
+\r
+"I have heard from authority, which I thought _as good_, that it was\r
+left you conditionally only, and at the will of the present patron."\r
+\r
+"You have. Yes, there was something in _that_; I told you so from the\r
+first, you may remember."\r
+\r
+"I _did_ hear, too, that there was a time, when sermon-making was not\r
+so palatable to you as it seems to be at present; that you actually\r
+declared your resolution of never taking orders, and that the business\r
+had been compromised accordingly."\r
+\r
+"You did! and it was not wholly without foundation. You may remember\r
+what I told you on that point, when first we talked of it."\r
+\r
+They were now almost at the door of the house, for she had walked fast\r
+to get rid of him; and unwilling, for her sister's sake, to provoke him,\r
+she only said in reply, with a good-humoured smile:\r
+\r
+"Come, Mr. Wickham, we are brother and sister, you know. Do not let\r
+us quarrel about the past. In future, I hope we shall be always of one\r
+mind."\r
+\r
+She held out her hand; he kissed it with affectionate gallantry, though\r
+he hardly knew how to look, and they entered the house.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 53\r
+\r
+\r
+Mr. Wickham was so perfectly satisfied with this conversation that he\r
+never again distressed himself, or provoked his dear sister Elizabeth,\r
+by introducing the subject of it; and she was pleased to find that she\r
+had said enough to keep him quiet.\r
+\r
+The day of his and Lydia's departure soon came, and Mrs. Bennet was\r
+forced to submit to a separation, which, as her husband by no means\r
+entered into her scheme of their all going to Newcastle, was likely to\r
+continue at least a twelvemonth.\r
+\r
+"Oh! my dear Lydia," she cried, "when shall we meet again?"\r
+\r
+"Oh, lord! I don't know. Not these two or three years, perhaps."\r
+\r
+"Write to me very often, my dear."\r
+\r
+"As often as I can. But you know married women have never much time for\r
+writing. My sisters may write to _me_. They will have nothing else to\r
+do."\r
+\r
+Mr. Wickham's adieus were much more affectionate than his wife's. He\r
+smiled, looked handsome, and said many pretty things.\r
+\r
+"He is as fine a fellow," said Mr. Bennet, as soon as they were out of\r
+the house, "as ever I saw. He simpers, and smirks, and makes love to\r
+us all. I am prodigiously proud of him. I defy even Sir William Lucas\r
+himself to produce a more valuable son-in-law."\r
+\r
+The loss of her daughter made Mrs. Bennet very dull for several days.\r
+\r
+"I often think," said she, "that there is nothing so bad as parting with\r
+one's friends. One seems so forlorn without them."\r
+\r
+"This is the consequence, you see, Madam, of marrying a daughter," said\r
+Elizabeth. "It must make you better satisfied that your other four are\r
+single."\r
+\r
+"It is no such thing. Lydia does not leave me because she is married,\r
+but only because her husband's regiment happens to be so far off. If\r
+that had been nearer, she would not have gone so soon."\r
+\r
+But the spiritless condition which this event threw her into was shortly\r
+relieved, and her mind opened again to the agitation of hope, by an\r
+article of news which then began to be in circulation. The housekeeper\r
+at Netherfield had received orders to prepare for the arrival of her\r
+master, who was coming down in a day or two, to shoot there for several\r
+weeks. Mrs. Bennet was quite in the fidgets. She looked at Jane, and\r
+smiled and shook her head by turns.\r
+\r
+"Well, well, and so Mr. Bingley is coming down, sister," (for Mrs.\r
+Phillips first brought her the news). "Well, so much the better. Not\r
+that I care about it, though. He is nothing to us, you know, and I am\r
+sure _I_ never want to see him again. But, however, he is very welcome\r
+to come to Netherfield, if he likes it. And who knows what _may_ happen?\r
+But that is nothing to us. You know, sister, we agreed long ago never to\r
+mention a word about it. And so, is it quite certain he is coming?"\r
+\r
+"You may depend on it," replied the other, "for Mrs. Nicholls was in\r
+Meryton last night; I saw her passing by, and went out myself on purpose\r
+to know the truth of it; and she told me that it was certain true. He\r
+comes down on Thursday at the latest, very likely on Wednesday. She was\r
+going to the butcher's, she told me, on purpose to order in some meat on\r
+Wednesday, and she has got three couple of ducks just fit to be killed."\r
+\r
+Miss Bennet had not been able to hear of his coming without changing\r
+colour. It was many months since she had mentioned his name to\r
+Elizabeth; but now, as soon as they were alone together, she said:\r
+\r
+"I saw you look at me to-day, Lizzy, when my aunt told us of the present\r
+report; and I know I appeared distressed. But don't imagine it was from\r
+any silly cause. I was only confused for the moment, because I felt that\r
+I _should_ be looked at. I do assure you that the news does not affect\r
+me either with pleasure or pain. I am glad of one thing, that he comes\r
+alone; because we shall see the less of him. Not that I am afraid of\r
+_myself_, but I dread other people's remarks."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth did not know what to make of it. Had she not seen him in\r
+Derbyshire, she might have supposed him capable of coming there with no\r
+other view than what was acknowledged; but she still thought him partial\r
+to Jane, and she wavered as to the greater probability of his coming\r
+there _with_ his friend's permission, or being bold enough to come\r
+without it.\r
+\r
+"Yet it is hard," she sometimes thought, "that this poor man cannot\r
+come to a house which he has legally hired, without raising all this\r
+speculation! I _will_ leave him to himself."\r
+\r
+In spite of what her sister declared, and really believed to be her\r
+feelings in the expectation of his arrival, Elizabeth could easily\r
+perceive that her spirits were affected by it. They were more disturbed,\r
+more unequal, than she had often seen them.\r
+\r
+The subject which had been so warmly canvassed between their parents,\r
+about a twelvemonth ago, was now brought forward again.\r
+\r
+"As soon as ever Mr. Bingley comes, my dear," said Mrs. Bennet, "you\r
+will wait on him of course."\r
+\r
+"No, no. You forced me into visiting him last year, and promised, if I\r
+went to see him, he should marry one of my daughters. But it ended in\r
+nothing, and I will not be sent on a fool's errand again."\r
+\r
+His wife represented to him how absolutely necessary such an attention\r
+would be from all the neighbouring gentlemen, on his returning to\r
+Netherfield.\r
+\r
+"'Tis an etiquette I despise," said he. "If he wants our society,\r
+let him seek it. He knows where we live. I will not spend my hours\r
+in running after my neighbours every time they go away and come back\r
+again."\r
+\r
+"Well, all I know is, that it will be abominably rude if you do not wait\r
+on him. But, however, that shan't prevent my asking him to dine here, I\r
+am determined. We must have Mrs. Long and the Gouldings soon. That will\r
+make thirteen with ourselves, so there will be just room at table for\r
+him."\r
+\r
+Consoled by this resolution, she was the better able to bear her\r
+husband's incivility; though it was very mortifying to know that her\r
+neighbours might all see Mr. Bingley, in consequence of it, before\r
+_they_ did. As the day of his arrival drew near,--\r
+\r
+"I begin to be sorry that he comes at all," said Jane to her sister. "It\r
+would be nothing; I could see him with perfect indifference, but I can\r
+hardly bear to hear it thus perpetually talked of. My mother means well;\r
+but she does not know, no one can know, how much I suffer from what she\r
+says. Happy shall I be, when his stay at Netherfield is over!"\r
+\r
+"I wish I could say anything to comfort you," replied Elizabeth; "but it\r
+is wholly out of my power. You must feel it; and the usual satisfaction\r
+of preaching patience to a sufferer is denied me, because you have\r
+always so much."\r
+\r
+Mr. Bingley arrived. Mrs. Bennet, through the assistance of servants,\r
+contrived to have the earliest tidings of it, that the period of anxiety\r
+and fretfulness on her side might be as long as it could. She counted\r
+the days that must intervene before their invitation could be sent;\r
+hopeless of seeing him before. But on the third morning after his\r
+arrival in Hertfordshire, she saw him, from her dressing-room window,\r
+enter the paddock and ride towards the house.\r
+\r
+Her daughters were eagerly called to partake of her joy. Jane resolutely\r
+kept her place at the table; but Elizabeth, to satisfy her mother, went\r
+to the window--she looked,--she saw Mr. Darcy with him, and sat down\r
+again by her sister.\r
+\r
+"There is a gentleman with him, mamma," said Kitty; "who can it be?"\r
+\r
+"Some acquaintance or other, my dear, I suppose; I am sure I do not\r
+know."\r
+\r
+"La!" replied Kitty, "it looks just like that man that used to be with\r
+him before. Mr. what's-his-name. That tall, proud man."\r
+\r
+"Good gracious! Mr. Darcy!--and so it does, I vow. Well, any friend of\r
+Mr. Bingley's will always be welcome here, to be sure; but else I must\r
+say that I hate the very sight of him."\r
+\r
+Jane looked at Elizabeth with surprise and concern. She knew but little\r
+of their meeting in Derbyshire, and therefore felt for the awkwardness\r
+which must attend her sister, in seeing him almost for the first time\r
+after receiving his explanatory letter. Both sisters were uncomfortable\r
+enough. Each felt for the other, and of course for themselves; and their\r
+mother talked on, of her dislike of Mr. Darcy, and her resolution to be\r
+civil to him only as Mr. Bingley's friend, without being heard by either\r
+of them. But Elizabeth had sources of uneasiness which could not be\r
+suspected by Jane, to whom she had never yet had courage to shew Mrs.\r
+Gardiner's letter, or to relate her own change of sentiment towards him.\r
+To Jane, he could be only a man whose proposals she had refused,\r
+and whose merit she had undervalued; but to her own more extensive\r
+information, he was the person to whom the whole family were indebted\r
+for the first of benefits, and whom she regarded herself with an\r
+interest, if not quite so tender, at least as reasonable and just as\r
+what Jane felt for Bingley. Her astonishment at his coming--at his\r
+coming to Netherfield, to Longbourn, and voluntarily seeking her again,\r
+was almost equal to what she had known on first witnessing his altered\r
+behaviour in Derbyshire.\r
+\r
+The colour which had been driven from her face, returned for half a\r
+minute with an additional glow, and a smile of delight added lustre to\r
+her eyes, as she thought for that space of time that his affection and\r
+wishes must still be unshaken. But she would not be secure.\r
+\r
+"Let me first see how he behaves," said she; "it will then be early\r
+enough for expectation."\r
+\r
+She sat intently at work, striving to be composed, and without daring to\r
+lift up her eyes, till anxious curiosity carried them to the face of\r
+her sister as the servant was approaching the door. Jane looked a little\r
+paler than usual, but more sedate than Elizabeth had expected. On the\r
+gentlemen's appearing, her colour increased; yet she received them with\r
+tolerable ease, and with a propriety of behaviour equally free from any\r
+symptom of resentment or any unnecessary complaisance.\r
+\r
+Elizabeth said as little to either as civility would allow, and sat down\r
+again to her work, with an eagerness which it did not often command. She\r
+had ventured only one glance at Darcy. He looked serious, as usual; and,\r
+she thought, more as he had been used to look in Hertfordshire, than as\r
+she had seen him at Pemberley. But, perhaps he could not in her mother's\r
+presence be what he was before her uncle and aunt. It was a painful, but\r
+not an improbable, conjecture.\r
+\r
+Bingley, she had likewise seen for an instant, and in that short period\r
+saw him looking both pleased and embarrassed. He was received by Mrs.\r
+Bennet with a degree of civility which made her two daughters ashamed,\r
+especially when contrasted with the cold and ceremonious politeness of\r
+her curtsey and address to his friend.\r
+\r
+Elizabeth, particularly, who knew that her mother owed to the latter\r
+the preservation of her favourite daughter from irremediable infamy,\r
+was hurt and distressed to a most painful degree by a distinction so ill\r
+applied.\r
+\r
+Darcy, after inquiring of her how Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner did, a question\r
+which she could not answer without confusion, said scarcely anything. He\r
+was not seated by her; perhaps that was the reason of his silence; but\r
+it had not been so in Derbyshire. There he had talked to her friends,\r
+when he could not to herself. But now several minutes elapsed without\r
+bringing the sound of his voice; and when occasionally, unable to resist\r
+the impulse of curiosity, she raised her eyes to his face, she as often\r
+found him looking at Jane as at herself, and frequently on no object but\r
+the ground. More thoughtfulness and less anxiety to please, than when\r
+they last met, were plainly expressed. She was disappointed, and angry\r
+with herself for being so.\r
+\r
+"Could I expect it to be otherwise!" said she. "Yet why did he come?"\r
+\r
+She was in no humour for conversation with anyone but himself; and to\r
+him she had hardly courage to speak.\r
+\r
+She inquired after his sister, but could do no more.\r
+\r
+"It is a long time, Mr. Bingley, since you went away," said Mrs. Bennet.\r
+\r
+He readily agreed to it.\r
+\r
+"I began to be afraid you would never come back again. People _did_ say\r
+you meant to quit the place entirely at Michaelmas; but, however, I hope\r
+it is not true. A great many changes have happened in the neighbourhood,\r
+since you went away. Miss Lucas is married and settled. And one of my\r
+own daughters. I suppose you have heard of it; indeed, you must have\r
+seen it in the papers. It was in The Times and The Courier, I know;\r
+though it was not put in as it ought to be. It was only said, 'Lately,\r
+George Wickham, Esq. to Miss Lydia Bennet,' without there being a\r
+syllable said of her father, or the place where she lived, or anything.\r
+It was my brother Gardiner's drawing up too, and I wonder how he came to\r
+make such an awkward business of it. Did you see it?"\r
+\r
+Bingley replied that he did, and made his congratulations. Elizabeth\r
+dared not lift up her eyes. How Mr. Darcy looked, therefore, she could\r
+not tell.\r
+\r
+"It is a delightful thing, to be sure, to have a daughter well married,"\r
+continued her mother, "but at the same time, Mr. Bingley, it is very\r
+hard to have her taken such a way from me. They are gone down to\r
+Newcastle, a place quite northward, it seems, and there they are to stay\r
+I do not know how long. His regiment is there; for I suppose you have\r
+heard of his leaving the ----shire, and of his being gone into the\r
+regulars. Thank Heaven! he has _some_ friends, though perhaps not so\r
+many as he deserves."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth, who knew this to be levelled at Mr. Darcy, was in such\r
+misery of shame, that she could hardly keep her seat. It drew from her,\r
+however, the exertion of speaking, which nothing else had so effectually\r
+done before; and she asked Bingley whether he meant to make any stay in\r
+the country at present. A few weeks, he believed.\r
+\r
+"When you have killed all your own birds, Mr. Bingley," said her mother,\r
+"I beg you will come here, and shoot as many as you please on Mr.\r
+Bennet's manor. I am sure he will be vastly happy to oblige you, and\r
+will save all the best of the covies for you."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth's misery increased, at such unnecessary, such officious\r
+attention! Were the same fair prospect to arise at present as had\r
+flattered them a year ago, every thing, she was persuaded, would be\r
+hastening to the same vexatious conclusion. At that instant, she felt\r
+that years of happiness could not make Jane or herself amends for\r
+moments of such painful confusion.\r
+\r
+"The first wish of my heart," said she to herself, "is never more to\r
+be in company with either of them. Their society can afford no pleasure\r
+that will atone for such wretchedness as this! Let me never see either\r
+one or the other again!"\r
+\r
+Yet the misery, for which years of happiness were to offer no\r
+compensation, received soon afterwards material relief, from observing\r
+how much the beauty of her sister re-kindled the admiration of her\r
+former lover. When first he came in, he had spoken to her but little;\r
+but every five minutes seemed to be giving her more of his attention. He\r
+found her as handsome as she had been last year; as good natured, and\r
+as unaffected, though not quite so chatty. Jane was anxious that no\r
+difference should be perceived in her at all, and was really persuaded\r
+that she talked as much as ever. But her mind was so busily engaged,\r
+that she did not always know when she was silent.\r
+\r
+When the gentlemen rose to go away, Mrs. Bennet was mindful of her\r
+intended civility, and they were invited and engaged to dine at\r
+Longbourn in a few days time.\r
+\r
+"You are quite a visit in my debt, Mr. Bingley," she added, "for when\r
+you went to town last winter, you promised to take a family dinner with\r
+us, as soon as you returned. I have not forgot, you see; and I assure\r
+you, I was very much disappointed that you did not come back and keep\r
+your engagement."\r
+\r
+Bingley looked a little silly at this reflection, and said something of\r
+his concern at having been prevented by business. They then went away.\r
+\r
+Mrs. Bennet had been strongly inclined to ask them to stay and dine\r
+there that day; but, though she always kept a very good table, she did\r
+not think anything less than two courses could be good enough for a man\r
+on whom she had such anxious designs, or satisfy the appetite and pride\r
+of one who had ten thousand a year.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 54\r
+\r
+\r
+As soon as they were gone, Elizabeth walked out to recover her spirits;\r
+or in other words, to dwell without interruption on those subjects that\r
+must deaden them more. Mr. Darcy's behaviour astonished and vexed her.\r
+\r
+"Why, if he came only to be silent, grave, and indifferent," said she,\r
+"did he come at all?"\r
+\r
+She could settle it in no way that gave her pleasure.\r
+\r
+"He could be still amiable, still pleasing, to my uncle and aunt, when\r
+he was in town; and why not to me? If he fears me, why come hither? If\r
+he no longer cares for me, why silent? Teasing, teasing, man! I will\r
+think no more about him."\r
+\r
+Her resolution was for a short time involuntarily kept by the approach\r
+of her sister, who joined her with a cheerful look, which showed her\r
+better satisfied with their visitors, than Elizabeth.\r
+\r
+"Now," said she, "that this first meeting is over, I feel perfectly\r
+easy. I know my own strength, and I shall never be embarrassed again by\r
+his coming. I am glad he dines here on Tuesday. It will then be publicly\r
+seen that, on both sides, we meet only as common and indifferent\r
+acquaintance."\r
+\r
+"Yes, very indifferent indeed," said Elizabeth, laughingly. "Oh, Jane,\r
+take care."\r
+\r
+"My dear Lizzy, you cannot think me so weak, as to be in danger now?"\r
+\r
+"I think you are in very great danger of making him as much in love with\r
+you as ever."\r
+\r
+ * * * * *\r
+\r
+They did not see the gentlemen again till Tuesday; and Mrs. Bennet, in\r
+the meanwhile, was giving way to all the happy schemes, which the good\r
+humour and common politeness of Bingley, in half an hour's visit, had\r
+revived.\r
+\r
+On Tuesday there was a large party assembled at Longbourn; and the two\r
+who were most anxiously expected, to the credit of their punctuality\r
+as sportsmen, were in very good time. When they repaired to the\r
+dining-room, Elizabeth eagerly watched to see whether Bingley would take\r
+the place, which, in all their former parties, had belonged to him, by\r
+her sister. Her prudent mother, occupied by the same ideas, forbore\r
+to invite him to sit by herself. On entering the room, he seemed to\r
+hesitate; but Jane happened to look round, and happened to smile: it was\r
+decided. He placed himself by her.\r
+\r
+Elizabeth, with a triumphant sensation, looked towards his friend.\r
+He bore it with noble indifference, and she would have imagined that\r
+Bingley had received his sanction to be happy, had she not seen his eyes\r
+likewise turned towards Mr. Darcy, with an expression of half-laughing\r
+alarm.\r
+\r
+His behaviour to her sister was such, during dinner time, as showed an\r
+admiration of her, which, though more guarded than formerly, persuaded\r
+Elizabeth, that if left wholly to himself, Jane's happiness, and his\r
+own, would be speedily secured. Though she dared not depend upon the\r
+consequence, she yet received pleasure from observing his behaviour. It\r
+gave her all the animation that her spirits could boast; for she was in\r
+no cheerful humour. Mr. Darcy was almost as far from her as the table\r
+could divide them. He was on one side of her mother. She knew how little\r
+such a situation would give pleasure to either, or make either appear to\r
+advantage. She was not near enough to hear any of their discourse, but\r
+she could see how seldom they spoke to each other, and how formal and\r
+cold was their manner whenever they did. Her mother's ungraciousness,\r
+made the sense of what they owed him more painful to Elizabeth's mind;\r
+and she would, at times, have given anything to be privileged to tell\r
+him that his kindness was neither unknown nor unfelt by the whole of the\r
+family.\r
+\r
+She was in hopes that the evening would afford some opportunity of\r
+bringing them together; that the whole of the visit would not pass away\r
+without enabling them to enter into something more of conversation than\r
+the mere ceremonious salutation attending his entrance. Anxious\r
+and uneasy, the period which passed in the drawing-room, before the\r
+gentlemen came, was wearisome and dull to a degree that almost made her\r
+uncivil. She looked forward to their entrance as the point on which all\r
+her chance of pleasure for the evening must depend.\r
+\r
+"If he does not come to me, _then_," said she, "I shall give him up for\r
+ever."\r
+\r
+The gentlemen came; and she thought he looked as if he would have\r
+answered her hopes; but, alas! the ladies had crowded round the table,\r
+where Miss Bennet was making tea, and Elizabeth pouring out the coffee,\r
+in so close a confederacy that there was not a single vacancy near her\r
+which would admit of a chair. And on the gentlemen's approaching, one of\r
+the girls moved closer to her than ever, and said, in a whisper:\r
+\r
+"The men shan't come and part us, I am determined. We want none of them;\r
+do we?"\r
+\r
+Darcy had walked away to another part of the room. She followed him with\r
+her eyes, envied everyone to whom he spoke, had scarcely patience enough\r
+to help anybody to coffee; and then was enraged against herself for\r
+being so silly!\r
+\r
+"A man who has once been refused! How could I ever be foolish enough to\r
+expect a renewal of his love? Is there one among the sex, who would not\r
+protest against such a weakness as a second proposal to the same woman?\r
+There is no indignity so abhorrent to their feelings!"\r
+\r
+She was a little revived, however, by his bringing back his coffee cup\r
+himself; and she seized the opportunity of saying:\r
+\r
+"Is your sister at Pemberley still?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, she will remain there till Christmas."\r
+\r
+"And quite alone? Have all her friends left her?"\r
+\r
+"Mrs. Annesley is with her. The others have been gone on to Scarborough,\r
+these three weeks."\r
+\r
+She could think of nothing more to say; but if he wished to converse\r
+with her, he might have better success. He stood by her, however, for\r
+some minutes, in silence; and, at last, on the young lady's whispering\r
+to Elizabeth again, he walked away.\r
+\r
+When the tea-things were removed, and the card-tables placed, the ladies\r
+all rose, and Elizabeth was then hoping to be soon joined by him,\r
+when all her views were overthrown by seeing him fall a victim to her\r
+mother's rapacity for whist players, and in a few moments after seated\r
+with the rest of the party. She now lost every expectation of pleasure.\r
+They were confined for the evening at different tables, and she had\r
+nothing to hope, but that his eyes were so often turned towards her side\r
+of the room, as to make him play as unsuccessfully as herself.\r
+\r
+Mrs. Bennet had designed to keep the two Netherfield gentlemen to\r
+supper; but their carriage was unluckily ordered before any of the\r
+others, and she had no opportunity of detaining them.\r
+\r
+"Well girls," said she, as soon as they were left to themselves, "What\r
+say you to the day? I think every thing has passed off uncommonly well,\r
+I assure you. The dinner was as well dressed as any I ever saw. The\r
+venison was roasted to a turn--and everybody said they never saw so\r
+fat a haunch. The soup was fifty times better than what we had at the\r
+Lucases' last week; and even Mr. Darcy acknowledged, that the partridges\r
+were remarkably well done; and I suppose he has two or three French\r
+cooks at least. And, my dear Jane, I never saw you look in greater\r
+beauty. Mrs. Long said so too, for I asked her whether you did not. And\r
+what do you think she said besides? 'Ah! Mrs. Bennet, we shall have her\r
+at Netherfield at last.' She did indeed. I do think Mrs. Long is as good\r
+a creature as ever lived--and her nieces are very pretty behaved girls,\r
+and not at all handsome: I like them prodigiously."\r
+\r
+Mrs. Bennet, in short, was in very great spirits; she had seen enough of\r
+Bingley's behaviour to Jane, to be convinced that she would get him at\r
+last; and her expectations of advantage to her family, when in a happy\r
+humour, were so far beyond reason, that she was quite disappointed at\r
+not seeing him there again the next day, to make his proposals.\r
+\r
+"It has been a very agreeable day," said Miss Bennet to Elizabeth. "The\r
+party seemed so well selected, so suitable one with the other. I hope we\r
+may often meet again."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth smiled.\r
+\r
+"Lizzy, you must not do so. You must not suspect me. It mortifies me.\r
+I assure you that I have now learnt to enjoy his conversation as an\r
+agreeable and sensible young man, without having a wish beyond it. I am\r
+perfectly satisfied, from what his manners now are, that he never had\r
+any design of engaging my affection. It is only that he is blessed\r
+with greater sweetness of address, and a stronger desire of generally\r
+pleasing, than any other man."\r
+\r
+"You are very cruel," said her sister, "you will not let me smile, and\r
+are provoking me to it every moment."\r
+\r
+"How hard it is in some cases to be believed!"\r
+\r
+"And how impossible in others!"\r
+\r
+"But why should you wish to persuade me that I feel more than I\r
+acknowledge?"\r
+\r
+"That is a question which I hardly know how to answer. We all love to\r
+instruct, though we can teach only what is not worth knowing. Forgive\r
+me; and if you persist in indifference, do not make me your confidante."\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 55\r
+\r
+\r
+A few days after this visit, Mr. Bingley called again, and alone. His\r
+friend had left him that morning for London, but was to return home in\r
+ten days time. He sat with them above an hour, and was in remarkably\r
+good spirits. Mrs. Bennet invited him to dine with them; but, with many\r
+expressions of concern, he confessed himself engaged elsewhere.\r
+\r
+"Next time you call," said she, "I hope we shall be more lucky."\r
+\r
+He should be particularly happy at any time, etc. etc.; and if she would\r
+give him leave, would take an early opportunity of waiting on them.\r
+\r
+"Can you come to-morrow?"\r
+\r
+Yes, he had no engagement at all for to-morrow; and her invitation was\r
+accepted with alacrity.\r
+\r
+He came, and in such very good time that the ladies were none of them\r
+dressed. In ran Mrs. Bennet to her daughter's room, in her dressing\r
+gown, and with her hair half finished, crying out:\r
+\r
+"My dear Jane, make haste and hurry down. He is come--Mr. Bingley is\r
+come. He is, indeed. Make haste, make haste. Here, Sarah, come to Miss\r
+Bennet this moment, and help her on with her gown. Never mind Miss\r
+Lizzy's hair."\r
+\r
+"We will be down as soon as we can," said Jane; "but I dare say Kitty is\r
+forwarder than either of us, for she went up stairs half an hour ago."\r
+\r
+"Oh! hang Kitty! what has she to do with it? Come be quick, be quick!\r
+Where is your sash, my dear?"\r
+\r
+But when her mother was gone, Jane would not be prevailed on to go down\r
+without one of her sisters.\r
+\r
+The same anxiety to get them by themselves was visible again in the\r
+evening. After tea, Mr. Bennet retired to the library, as was his\r
+custom, and Mary went up stairs to her instrument. Two obstacles of\r
+the five being thus removed, Mrs. Bennet sat looking and winking at\r
+Elizabeth and Catherine for a considerable time, without making any\r
+impression on them. Elizabeth would not observe her; and when at last\r
+Kitty did, she very innocently said, "What is the matter mamma? What do\r
+you keep winking at me for? What am I to do?"\r
+\r
+"Nothing child, nothing. I did not wink at you." She then sat still\r
+five minutes longer; but unable to waste such a precious occasion, she\r
+suddenly got up, and saying to Kitty, "Come here, my love, I want to\r
+speak to you," took her out of the room. Jane instantly gave a look\r
+at Elizabeth which spoke her distress at such premeditation, and her\r
+entreaty that _she_ would not give in to it. In a few minutes, Mrs.\r
+Bennet half-opened the door and called out:\r
+\r
+"Lizzy, my dear, I want to speak with you."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth was forced to go.\r
+\r
+"We may as well leave them by themselves you know;" said her mother, as\r
+soon as she was in the hall. "Kitty and I are going up stairs to sit in\r
+my dressing-room."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth made no attempt to reason with her mother, but remained\r
+quietly in the hall, till she and Kitty were out of sight, then returned\r
+into the drawing-room.\r
+\r
+Mrs. Bennet's schemes for this day were ineffectual. Bingley was every\r
+thing that was charming, except the professed lover of her daughter. His\r
+ease and cheerfulness rendered him a most agreeable addition to their\r
+evening party; and he bore with the ill-judged officiousness of the\r
+mother, and heard all her silly remarks with a forbearance and command\r
+of countenance particularly grateful to the daughter.\r
+\r
+He scarcely needed an invitation to stay supper; and before he went\r
+away, an engagement was formed, chiefly through his own and Mrs.\r
+Bennet's means, for his coming next morning to shoot with her husband.\r
+\r
+After this day, Jane said no more of her indifference. Not a word passed\r
+between the sisters concerning Bingley; but Elizabeth went to bed in\r
+the happy belief that all must speedily be concluded, unless Mr. Darcy\r
+returned within the stated time. Seriously, however, she felt tolerably\r
+persuaded that all this must have taken place with that gentleman's\r
+concurrence.\r
+\r
+Bingley was punctual to his appointment; and he and Mr. Bennet spent\r
+the morning together, as had been agreed on. The latter was much more\r
+agreeable than his companion expected. There was nothing of presumption\r
+or folly in Bingley that could provoke his ridicule, or disgust him into\r
+silence; and he was more communicative, and less eccentric, than the\r
+other had ever seen him. Bingley of course returned with him to dinner;\r
+and in the evening Mrs. Bennet's invention was again at work to get\r
+every body away from him and her daughter. Elizabeth, who had a letter\r
+to write, went into the breakfast room for that purpose soon after tea;\r
+for as the others were all going to sit down to cards, she could not be\r
+wanted to counteract her mother's schemes.\r
+\r
+But on returning to the drawing-room, when her letter was finished, she\r
+saw, to her infinite surprise, there was reason to fear that her mother\r
+had been too ingenious for her. On opening the door, she perceived her\r
+sister and Bingley standing together over the hearth, as if engaged in\r
+earnest conversation; and had this led to no suspicion, the faces of\r
+both, as they hastily turned round and moved away from each other, would\r
+have told it all. Their situation was awkward enough; but _hers_ she\r
+thought was still worse. Not a syllable was uttered by either; and\r
+Elizabeth was on the point of going away again, when Bingley, who as\r
+well as the other had sat down, suddenly rose, and whispering a few\r
+words to her sister, ran out of the room.\r
+\r
+Jane could have no reserves from Elizabeth, where confidence would give\r
+pleasure; and instantly embracing her, acknowledged, with the liveliest\r
+emotion, that she was the happiest creature in the world.\r
+\r
+"'Tis too much!" she added, "by far too much. I do not deserve it. Oh!\r
+why is not everybody as happy?"\r
+\r
+Elizabeth's congratulations were given with a sincerity, a warmth,\r
+a delight, which words could but poorly express. Every sentence of\r
+kindness was a fresh source of happiness to Jane. But she would not\r
+allow herself to stay with her sister, or say half that remained to be\r
+said for the present.\r
+\r
+"I must go instantly to my mother;" she cried. "I would not on any\r
+account trifle with her affectionate solicitude; or allow her to hear it\r
+from anyone but myself. He is gone to my father already. Oh! Lizzy, to\r
+know that what I have to relate will give such pleasure to all my dear\r
+family! how shall I bear so much happiness!"\r
+\r
+She then hastened away to her mother, who had purposely broken up the\r
+card party, and was sitting up stairs with Kitty.\r
+\r
+Elizabeth, who was left by herself, now smiled at the rapidity and ease\r
+with which an affair was finally settled, that had given them so many\r
+previous months of suspense and vexation.\r
+\r
+"And this," said she, "is the end of all his friend's anxious\r
+circumspection! of all his sister's falsehood and contrivance! the\r
+happiest, wisest, most reasonable end!"\r
+\r
+In a few minutes she was joined by Bingley, whose conference with her\r
+father had been short and to the purpose.\r
+\r
+"Where is your sister?" said he hastily, as he opened the door.\r
+\r
+"With my mother up stairs. She will be down in a moment, I dare say."\r
+\r
+He then shut the door, and, coming up to her, claimed the good wishes\r
+and affection of a sister. Elizabeth honestly and heartily expressed\r
+her delight in the prospect of their relationship. They shook hands with\r
+great cordiality; and then, till her sister came down, she had to listen\r
+to all he had to say of his own happiness, and of Jane's perfections;\r
+and in spite of his being a lover, Elizabeth really believed all his\r
+expectations of felicity to be rationally founded, because they had for\r
+basis the excellent understanding, and super-excellent disposition of\r
+Jane, and a general similarity of feeling and taste between her and\r
+himself.\r
+\r
+It was an evening of no common delight to them all; the satisfaction of\r
+Miss Bennet's mind gave a glow of such sweet animation to her face, as\r
+made her look handsomer than ever. Kitty simpered and smiled, and hoped\r
+her turn was coming soon. Mrs. Bennet could not give her consent or\r
+speak her approbation in terms warm enough to satisfy her feelings,\r
+though she talked to Bingley of nothing else for half an hour; and when\r
+Mr. Bennet joined them at supper, his voice and manner plainly showed\r
+how really happy he was.\r
+\r
+Not a word, however, passed his lips in allusion to it, till their\r
+visitor took his leave for the night; but as soon as he was gone, he\r
+turned to his daughter, and said:\r
+\r
+"Jane, I congratulate you. You will be a very happy woman."\r
+\r
+Jane went to him instantly, kissed him, and thanked him for his\r
+goodness.\r
+\r
+"You are a good girl;" he replied, "and I have great pleasure in\r
+thinking you will be so happily settled. I have not a doubt of your\r
+doing very well together. Your tempers are by no means unlike. You are\r
+each of you so complying, that nothing will ever be resolved on; so\r
+easy, that every servant will cheat you; and so generous, that you will\r
+always exceed your income."\r
+\r
+"I hope not so. Imprudence or thoughtlessness in money matters would be\r
+unpardonable in me."\r
+\r
+"Exceed their income! My dear Mr. Bennet," cried his wife, "what are you\r
+talking of? Why, he has four or five thousand a year, and very likely\r
+more." Then addressing her daughter, "Oh! my dear, dear Jane, I am so\r
+happy! I am sure I shan't get a wink of sleep all night. I knew how it\r
+would be. I always said it must be so, at last. I was sure you could not\r
+be so beautiful for nothing! I remember, as soon as ever I saw him, when\r
+he first came into Hertfordshire last year, I thought how likely it was\r
+that you should come together. Oh! he is the handsomest young man that\r
+ever was seen!"\r
+\r
+Wickham, Lydia, were all forgotten. Jane was beyond competition her\r
+favourite child. At that moment, she cared for no other. Her younger\r
+sisters soon began to make interest with her for objects of happiness\r
+which she might in future be able to dispense.\r
+\r
+Mary petitioned for the use of the library at Netherfield; and Kitty\r
+begged very hard for a few balls there every winter.\r
+\r
+Bingley, from this time, was of course a daily visitor at Longbourn;\r
+coming frequently before breakfast, and always remaining till after\r
+supper; unless when some barbarous neighbour, who could not be enough\r
+detested, had given him an invitation to dinner which he thought himself\r
+obliged to accept.\r
+\r
+Elizabeth had now but little time for conversation with her sister; for\r
+while he was present, Jane had no attention to bestow on anyone else;\r
+but she found herself considerably useful to both of them in those hours\r
+of separation that must sometimes occur. In the absence of Jane, he\r
+always attached himself to Elizabeth, for the pleasure of talking of\r
+her; and when Bingley was gone, Jane constantly sought the same means of\r
+relief.\r
+\r
+"He has made me so happy," said she, one evening, "by telling me that he\r
+was totally ignorant of my being in town last spring! I had not believed\r
+it possible."\r
+\r
+"I suspected as much," replied Elizabeth. "But how did he account for\r
+it?"\r
+\r
+"It must have been his sister's doing. They were certainly no friends to\r
+his acquaintance with me, which I cannot wonder at, since he might have\r
+chosen so much more advantageously in many respects. But when they see,\r
+as I trust they will, that their brother is happy with me, they will\r
+learn to be contented, and we shall be on good terms again; though we\r
+can never be what we once were to each other."\r
+\r
+"That is the most unforgiving speech," said Elizabeth, "that I ever\r
+heard you utter. Good girl! It would vex me, indeed, to see you again\r
+the dupe of Miss Bingley's pretended regard."\r
+\r
+"Would you believe it, Lizzy, that when he went to town last November,\r
+he really loved me, and nothing but a persuasion of _my_ being\r
+indifferent would have prevented his coming down again!"\r
+\r
+"He made a little mistake to be sure; but it is to the credit of his\r
+modesty."\r
+\r
+This naturally introduced a panegyric from Jane on his diffidence, and\r
+the little value he put on his own good qualities. Elizabeth was pleased\r
+to find that he had not betrayed the interference of his friend; for,\r
+though Jane had the most generous and forgiving heart in the world, she\r
+knew it was a circumstance which must prejudice her against him.\r
+\r
+"I am certainly the most fortunate creature that ever existed!" cried\r
+Jane. "Oh! Lizzy, why am I thus singled from my family, and blessed\r
+above them all! If I could but see _you_ as happy! If there _were_ but\r
+such another man for you!"\r
+\r
+"If you were to give me forty such men, I never could be so happy as\r
+you. Till I have your disposition, your goodness, I never can have your\r
+happiness. No, no, let me shift for myself; and, perhaps, if I have very\r
+good luck, I may meet with another Mr. Collins in time."\r
+\r
+The situation of affairs in the Longbourn family could not be long a\r
+secret. Mrs. Bennet was privileged to whisper it to Mrs. Phillips,\r
+and she ventured, without any permission, to do the same by all her\r
+neighbours in Meryton.\r
+\r
+The Bennets were speedily pronounced to be the luckiest family in the\r
+world, though only a few weeks before, when Lydia had first run away,\r
+they had been generally proved to be marked out for misfortune.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 56\r
+\r
+\r
+One morning, about a week after Bingley's engagement with Jane had been\r
+formed, as he and the females of the family were sitting together in the\r
+dining-room, their attention was suddenly drawn to the window, by the\r
+sound of a carriage; and they perceived a chaise and four driving up\r
+the lawn. It was too early in the morning for visitors, and besides, the\r
+equipage did not answer to that of any of their neighbours. The horses\r
+were post; and neither the carriage, nor the livery of the servant who\r
+preceded it, were familiar to them. As it was certain, however, that\r
+somebody was coming, Bingley instantly prevailed on Miss Bennet to avoid\r
+the confinement of such an intrusion, and walk away with him into the\r
+shrubbery. They both set off, and the conjectures of the remaining three\r
+continued, though with little satisfaction, till the door was thrown\r
+open and their visitor entered. It was Lady Catherine de Bourgh.\r
+\r
+They were of course all intending to be surprised; but their\r
+astonishment was beyond their expectation; and on the part of Mrs.\r
+Bennet and Kitty, though she was perfectly unknown to them, even\r
+inferior to what Elizabeth felt.\r
+\r
+She entered the room with an air more than usually ungracious, made no\r
+other reply to Elizabeth's salutation than a slight inclination of the\r
+head, and sat down without saying a word. Elizabeth had mentioned her\r
+name to her mother on her ladyship's entrance, though no request of\r
+introduction had been made.\r
+\r
+Mrs. Bennet, all amazement, though flattered by having a guest of such\r
+high importance, received her with the utmost politeness. After sitting\r
+for a moment in silence, she said very stiffly to Elizabeth,\r
+\r
+"I hope you are well, Miss Bennet. That lady, I suppose, is your\r
+mother."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth replied very concisely that she was.\r
+\r
+"And _that_ I suppose is one of your sisters."\r
+\r
+"Yes, madam," said Mrs. Bennet, delighted to speak to Lady Catherine.\r
+"She is my youngest girl but one. My youngest of all is lately married,\r
+and my eldest is somewhere about the grounds, walking with a young man\r
+who, I believe, will soon become a part of the family."\r
+\r
+"You have a very small park here," returned Lady Catherine after a short\r
+silence.\r
+\r
+"It is nothing in comparison of Rosings, my lady, I dare say; but I\r
+assure you it is much larger than Sir William Lucas's."\r
+\r
+"This must be a most inconvenient sitting room for the evening, in\r
+summer; the windows are full west."\r
+\r
+Mrs. Bennet assured her that they never sat there after dinner, and then\r
+added:\r
+\r
+"May I take the liberty of asking your ladyship whether you left Mr. and\r
+Mrs. Collins well."\r
+\r
+"Yes, very well. I saw them the night before last."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth now expected that she would produce a letter for her from\r
+Charlotte, as it seemed the only probable motive for her calling. But no\r
+letter appeared, and she was completely puzzled.\r
+\r
+Mrs. Bennet, with great civility, begged her ladyship to take some\r
+refreshment; but Lady Catherine very resolutely, and not very politely,\r
+declined eating anything; and then, rising up, said to Elizabeth,\r
+\r
+"Miss Bennet, there seemed to be a prettyish kind of a little wilderness\r
+on one side of your lawn. I should be glad to take a turn in it, if you\r
+will favour me with your company."\r
+\r
+"Go, my dear," cried her mother, "and show her ladyship about the\r
+different walks. I think she will be pleased with the hermitage."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth obeyed, and running into her own room for her parasol,\r
+attended her noble guest downstairs. As they passed through the\r
+hall, Lady Catherine opened the doors into the dining-parlour and\r
+drawing-room, and pronouncing them, after a short survey, to be decent\r
+looking rooms, walked on.\r
+\r
+Her carriage remained at the door, and Elizabeth saw that her\r
+waiting-woman was in it. They proceeded in silence along the gravel walk\r
+that led to the copse; Elizabeth was determined to make no effort for\r
+conversation with a woman who was now more than usually insolent and\r
+disagreeable.\r
+\r
+"How could I ever think her like her nephew?" said she, as she looked in\r
+her face.\r
+\r
+As soon as they entered the copse, Lady Catherine began in the following\r
+manner:--\r
+\r
+"You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, to understand the reason of my\r
+journey hither. Your own heart, your own conscience, must tell you why I\r
+come."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth looked with unaffected astonishment.\r
+\r
+"Indeed, you are mistaken, Madam. I have not been at all able to account\r
+for the honour of seeing you here."\r
+\r
+"Miss Bennet," replied her ladyship, in an angry tone, "you ought to\r
+know, that I am not to be trifled with. But however insincere _you_ may\r
+choose to be, you shall not find _me_ so. My character has ever been\r
+celebrated for its sincerity and frankness, and in a cause of such\r
+moment as this, I shall certainly not depart from it. A report of a most\r
+alarming nature reached me two days ago. I was told that not only your\r
+sister was on the point of being most advantageously married, but that\r
+you, that Miss Elizabeth Bennet, would, in all likelihood, be soon\r
+afterwards united to my nephew, my own nephew, Mr. Darcy. Though I\r
+_know_ it must be a scandalous falsehood, though I would not injure him\r
+so much as to suppose the truth of it possible, I instantly resolved\r
+on setting off for this place, that I might make my sentiments known to\r
+you."\r
+\r
+"If you believed it impossible to be true," said Elizabeth, colouring\r
+with astonishment and disdain, "I wonder you took the trouble of coming\r
+so far. What could your ladyship propose by it?"\r
+\r
+"At once to insist upon having such a report universally contradicted."\r
+\r
+"Your coming to Longbourn, to see me and my family," said Elizabeth\r
+coolly, "will be rather a confirmation of it; if, indeed, such a report\r
+is in existence."\r
+\r
+"If! Do you then pretend to be ignorant of it? Has it not been\r
+industriously circulated by yourselves? Do you not know that such a\r
+report is spread abroad?"\r
+\r
+"I never heard that it was."\r
+\r
+"And can you likewise declare, that there is no foundation for it?"\r
+\r
+"I do not pretend to possess equal frankness with your ladyship. You may\r
+ask questions which I shall not choose to answer."\r
+\r
+"This is not to be borne. Miss Bennet, I insist on being satisfied. Has\r
+he, has my nephew, made you an offer of marriage?"\r
+\r
+"Your ladyship has declared it to be impossible."\r
+\r
+"It ought to be so; it must be so, while he retains the use of his\r
+reason. But your arts and allurements may, in a moment of infatuation,\r
+have made him forget what he owes to himself and to all his family. You\r
+may have drawn him in."\r
+\r
+"If I have, I shall be the last person to confess it."\r
+\r
+"Miss Bennet, do you know who I am? I have not been accustomed to such\r
+language as this. I am almost the nearest relation he has in the world,\r
+and am entitled to know all his dearest concerns."\r
+\r
+"But you are not entitled to know mine; nor will such behaviour as this,\r
+ever induce me to be explicit."\r
+\r
+"Let me be rightly understood. This match, to which you have the\r
+presumption to aspire, can never take place. No, never. Mr. Darcy is\r
+engaged to my daughter. Now what have you to say?"\r
+\r
+"Only this; that if he is so, you can have no reason to suppose he will\r
+make an offer to me."\r
+\r
+Lady Catherine hesitated for a moment, and then replied:\r
+\r
+"The engagement between them is of a peculiar kind. From their infancy,\r
+they have been intended for each other. It was the favourite wish of\r
+_his_ mother, as well as of hers. While in their cradles, we planned\r
+the union: and now, at the moment when the wishes of both sisters would\r
+be accomplished in their marriage, to be prevented by a young woman of\r
+inferior birth, of no importance in the world, and wholly unallied to\r
+the family! Do you pay no regard to the wishes of his friends? To his\r
+tacit engagement with Miss de Bourgh? Are you lost to every feeling of\r
+propriety and delicacy? Have you not heard me say that from his earliest\r
+hours he was destined for his cousin?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, and I had heard it before. But what is that to me? If there is\r
+no other objection to my marrying your nephew, I shall certainly not\r
+be kept from it by knowing that his mother and aunt wished him to\r
+marry Miss de Bourgh. You both did as much as you could in planning the\r
+marriage. Its completion depended on others. If Mr. Darcy is neither\r
+by honour nor inclination confined to his cousin, why is not he to make\r
+another choice? And if I am that choice, why may not I accept him?"\r
+\r
+"Because honour, decorum, prudence, nay, interest, forbid it. Yes,\r
+Miss Bennet, interest; for do not expect to be noticed by his family or\r
+friends, if you wilfully act against the inclinations of all. You will\r
+be censured, slighted, and despised, by everyone connected with him.\r
+Your alliance will be a disgrace; your name will never even be mentioned\r
+by any of us."\r
+\r
+"These are heavy misfortunes," replied Elizabeth. "But the wife of Mr.\r
+Darcy must have such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily\r
+attached to her situation, that she could, upon the whole, have no cause\r
+to repine."\r
+\r
+"Obstinate, headstrong girl! I am ashamed of you! Is this your gratitude\r
+for my attentions to you last spring? Is nothing due to me on that\r
+score? Let us sit down. You are to understand, Miss Bennet, that I came\r
+here with the determined resolution of carrying my purpose; nor will\r
+I be dissuaded from it. I have not been used to submit to any person's\r
+whims. I have not been in the habit of brooking disappointment."\r
+\r
+"_That_ will make your ladyship's situation at present more pitiable;\r
+but it will have no effect on me."\r
+\r
+"I will not be interrupted. Hear me in silence. My daughter and my\r
+nephew are formed for each other. They are descended, on the maternal\r
+side, from the same noble line; and, on the father's, from respectable,\r
+honourable, and ancient--though untitled--families. Their fortune on\r
+both sides is splendid. They are destined for each other by the voice of\r
+every member of their respective houses; and what is to divide them?\r
+The upstart pretensions of a young woman without family, connections,\r
+or fortune. Is this to be endured! But it must not, shall not be. If you\r
+were sensible of your own good, you would not wish to quit the sphere in\r
+which you have been brought up."\r
+\r
+"In marrying your nephew, I should not consider myself as quitting that\r
+sphere. He is a gentleman; I am a gentleman's daughter; so far we are\r
+equal."\r
+\r
+"True. You _are_ a gentleman's daughter. But who was your mother?\r
+Who are your uncles and aunts? Do not imagine me ignorant of their\r
+condition."\r
+\r
+"Whatever my connections may be," said Elizabeth, "if your nephew does\r
+not object to them, they can be nothing to _you_."\r
+\r
+"Tell me once for all, are you engaged to him?"\r
+\r
+Though Elizabeth would not, for the mere purpose of obliging Lady\r
+Catherine, have answered this question, she could not but say, after a\r
+moment's deliberation:\r
+\r
+"I am not."\r
+\r
+Lady Catherine seemed pleased.\r
+\r
+"And will you promise me, never to enter into such an engagement?"\r
+\r
+"I will make no promise of the kind."\r
+\r
+"Miss Bennet I am shocked and astonished. I expected to find a more\r
+reasonable young woman. But do not deceive yourself into a belief that\r
+I will ever recede. I shall not go away till you have given me the\r
+assurance I require."\r
+\r
+"And I certainly _never_ shall give it. I am not to be intimidated into\r
+anything so wholly unreasonable. Your ladyship wants Mr. Darcy to marry\r
+your daughter; but would my giving you the wished-for promise make their\r
+marriage at all more probable? Supposing him to be attached to me, would\r
+my refusing to accept his hand make him wish to bestow it on his cousin?\r
+Allow me to say, Lady Catherine, that the arguments with which you have\r
+supported this extraordinary application have been as frivolous as the\r
+application was ill-judged. You have widely mistaken my character, if\r
+you think I can be worked on by such persuasions as these. How far your\r
+nephew might approve of your interference in his affairs, I cannot tell;\r
+but you have certainly no right to concern yourself in mine. I must beg,\r
+therefore, to be importuned no farther on the subject."\r
+\r
+"Not so hasty, if you please. I have by no means done. To all the\r
+objections I have already urged, I have still another to add. I am\r
+no stranger to the particulars of your youngest sister's infamous\r
+elopement. I know it all; that the young man's marrying her was a\r
+patched-up business, at the expence of your father and uncles. And is\r
+such a girl to be my nephew's sister? Is her husband, is the son of his\r
+late father's steward, to be his brother? Heaven and earth!--of what are\r
+you thinking? Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?"\r
+\r
+"You can now have nothing further to say," she resentfully answered.\r
+"You have insulted me in every possible method. I must beg to return to\r
+the house."\r
+\r
+And she rose as she spoke. Lady Catherine rose also, and they turned\r
+back. Her ladyship was highly incensed.\r
+\r
+"You have no regard, then, for the honour and credit of my nephew!\r
+Unfeeling, selfish girl! Do you not consider that a connection with you\r
+must disgrace him in the eyes of everybody?"\r
+\r
+"Lady Catherine, I have nothing further to say. You know my sentiments."\r
+\r
+"You are then resolved to have him?"\r
+\r
+"I have said no such thing. I am only resolved to act in that manner,\r
+which will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness, without\r
+reference to _you_, or to any person so wholly unconnected with me."\r
+\r
+"It is well. You refuse, then, to oblige me. You refuse to obey the\r
+claims of duty, honour, and gratitude. You are determined to ruin him in\r
+the opinion of all his friends, and make him the contempt of the world."\r
+\r
+"Neither duty, nor honour, nor gratitude," replied Elizabeth, "have any\r
+possible claim on me, in the present instance. No principle of either\r
+would be violated by my marriage with Mr. Darcy. And with regard to the\r
+resentment of his family, or the indignation of the world, if the former\r
+_were_ excited by his marrying me, it would not give me one moment's\r
+concern--and the world in general would have too much sense to join in\r
+the scorn."\r
+\r
+"And this is your real opinion! This is your final resolve! Very well.\r
+I shall now know how to act. Do not imagine, Miss Bennet, that your\r
+ambition will ever be gratified. I came to try you. I hoped to find you\r
+reasonable; but, depend upon it, I will carry my point."\r
+\r
+In this manner Lady Catherine talked on, till they were at the door of\r
+the carriage, when, turning hastily round, she added, "I take no leave\r
+of you, Miss Bennet. I send no compliments to your mother. You deserve\r
+no such attention. I am most seriously displeased."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth made no answer; and without attempting to persuade her\r
+ladyship to return into the house, walked quietly into it herself. She\r
+heard the carriage drive away as she proceeded up stairs. Her mother\r
+impatiently met her at the door of the dressing-room, to ask why Lady\r
+Catherine would not come in again and rest herself.\r
+\r
+"She did not choose it," said her daughter, "she would go."\r
+\r
+"She is a very fine-looking woman! and her calling here was prodigiously\r
+civil! for she only came, I suppose, to tell us the Collinses were\r
+well. She is on her road somewhere, I dare say, and so, passing through\r
+Meryton, thought she might as well call on you. I suppose she had\r
+nothing particular to say to you, Lizzy?"\r
+\r
+Elizabeth was forced to give into a little falsehood here; for to\r
+acknowledge the substance of their conversation was impossible.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 57\r
+\r
+\r
+The discomposure of spirits which this extraordinary visit threw\r
+Elizabeth into, could not be easily overcome; nor could she, for many\r
+hours, learn to think of it less than incessantly. Lady Catherine, it\r
+appeared, had actually taken the trouble of this journey from Rosings,\r
+for the sole purpose of breaking off her supposed engagement with Mr.\r
+Darcy. It was a rational scheme, to be sure! but from what the report\r
+of their engagement could originate, Elizabeth was at a loss to imagine;\r
+till she recollected that _his_ being the intimate friend of Bingley,\r
+and _her_ being the sister of Jane, was enough, at a time when the\r
+expectation of one wedding made everybody eager for another, to supply\r
+the idea. She had not herself forgotten to feel that the marriage of her\r
+sister must bring them more frequently together. And her neighbours\r
+at Lucas Lodge, therefore (for through their communication with the\r
+Collinses, the report, she concluded, had reached Lady Catherine), had\r
+only set that down as almost certain and immediate, which she had looked\r
+forward to as possible at some future time.\r
+\r
+In revolving Lady Catherine's expressions, however, she could not help\r
+feeling some uneasiness as to the possible consequence of her persisting\r
+in this interference. From what she had said of her resolution to\r
+prevent their marriage, it occurred to Elizabeth that she must meditate\r
+an application to her nephew; and how _he_ might take a similar\r
+representation of the evils attached to a connection with her, she dared\r
+not pronounce. She knew not the exact degree of his affection for his\r
+aunt, or his dependence on her judgment, but it was natural to suppose\r
+that he thought much higher of her ladyship than _she_ could do; and it\r
+was certain that, in enumerating the miseries of a marriage with _one_,\r
+whose immediate connections were so unequal to his own, his aunt would\r
+address him on his weakest side. With his notions of dignity, he would\r
+probably feel that the arguments, which to Elizabeth had appeared weak\r
+and ridiculous, contained much good sense and solid reasoning.\r
+\r
+If he had been wavering before as to what he should do, which had often\r
+seemed likely, the advice and entreaty of so near a relation might\r
+settle every doubt, and determine him at once to be as happy as dignity\r
+unblemished could make him. In that case he would return no more. Lady\r
+Catherine might see him in her way through town; and his engagement to\r
+Bingley of coming again to Netherfield must give way.\r
+\r
+"If, therefore, an excuse for not keeping his promise should come to his\r
+friend within a few days," she added, "I shall know how to understand\r
+it. I shall then give over every expectation, every wish of his\r
+constancy. If he is satisfied with only regretting me, when he might\r
+have obtained my affections and hand, I shall soon cease to regret him\r
+at all."\r
+\r
+ * * * * *\r
+\r
+The surprise of the rest of the family, on hearing who their visitor had\r
+been, was very great; but they obligingly satisfied it, with the same\r
+kind of supposition which had appeased Mrs. Bennet's curiosity; and\r
+Elizabeth was spared from much teasing on the subject.\r
+\r
+The next morning, as she was going downstairs, she was met by her\r
+father, who came out of his library with a letter in his hand.\r
+\r
+"Lizzy," said he, "I was going to look for you; come into my room."\r
+\r
+She followed him thither; and her curiosity to know what he had to\r
+tell her was heightened by the supposition of its being in some manner\r
+connected with the letter he held. It suddenly struck her that it\r
+might be from Lady Catherine; and she anticipated with dismay all the\r
+consequent explanations.\r
+\r
+She followed her father to the fire place, and they both sat down. He\r
+then said,\r
+\r
+"I have received a letter this morning that has astonished me\r
+exceedingly. As it principally concerns yourself, you ought to know its\r
+contents. I did not know before, that I had two daughters on the brink\r
+of matrimony. Let me congratulate you on a very important conquest."\r
+\r
+The colour now rushed into Elizabeth's cheeks in the instantaneous\r
+conviction of its being a letter from the nephew, instead of the aunt;\r
+and she was undetermined whether most to be pleased that he explained\r
+himself at all, or offended that his letter was not rather addressed to\r
+herself; when her father continued:\r
+\r
+"You look conscious. Young ladies have great penetration in such matters\r
+as these; but I think I may defy even _your_ sagacity, to discover the\r
+name of your admirer. This letter is from Mr. Collins."\r
+\r
+"From Mr. Collins! and what can _he_ have to say?"\r
+\r
+"Something very much to the purpose of course. He begins with\r
+congratulations on the approaching nuptials of my eldest daughter, of\r
+which, it seems, he has been told by some of the good-natured, gossiping\r
+Lucases. I shall not sport with your impatience, by reading what he says\r
+on that point. What relates to yourself, is as follows: 'Having thus\r
+offered you the sincere congratulations of Mrs. Collins and myself on\r
+this happy event, let me now add a short hint on the subject of another;\r
+of which we have been advertised by the same authority. Your daughter\r
+Elizabeth, it is presumed, will not long bear the name of Bennet, after\r
+her elder sister has resigned it, and the chosen partner of her fate may\r
+be reasonably looked up to as one of the most illustrious personages in\r
+this land.'\r
+\r
+"Can you possibly guess, Lizzy, who is meant by this? 'This young\r
+gentleman is blessed, in a peculiar way, with every thing the heart of\r
+mortal can most desire,--splendid property, noble kindred, and extensive\r
+patronage. Yet in spite of all these temptations, let me warn my cousin\r
+Elizabeth, and yourself, of what evils you may incur by a precipitate\r
+closure with this gentleman's proposals, which, of course, you will be\r
+inclined to take immediate advantage of.'\r
+\r
+"Have you any idea, Lizzy, who this gentleman is? But now it comes out:\r
+\r
+"'My motive for cautioning you is as follows. We have reason to imagine\r
+that his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, does not look on the match with\r
+a friendly eye.'\r
+\r
+"_Mr. Darcy_, you see, is the man! Now, Lizzy, I think I _have_\r
+surprised you. Could he, or the Lucases, have pitched on any man within\r
+the circle of our acquaintance, whose name would have given the lie\r
+more effectually to what they related? Mr. Darcy, who never looks at any\r
+woman but to see a blemish, and who probably never looked at you in his\r
+life! It is admirable!"\r
+\r
+Elizabeth tried to join in her father's pleasantry, but could only force\r
+one most reluctant smile. Never had his wit been directed in a manner so\r
+little agreeable to her.\r
+\r
+"Are you not diverted?"\r
+\r
+"Oh! yes. Pray read on."\r
+\r
+"'After mentioning the likelihood of this marriage to her ladyship last\r
+night, she immediately, with her usual condescension, expressed what she\r
+felt on the occasion; when it became apparent, that on the score of some\r
+family objections on the part of my cousin, she would never give her\r
+consent to what she termed so disgraceful a match. I thought it my duty\r
+to give the speediest intelligence of this to my cousin, that she and\r
+her noble admirer may be aware of what they are about, and not run\r
+hastily into a marriage which has not been properly sanctioned.' Mr.\r
+Collins moreover adds, 'I am truly rejoiced that my cousin Lydia's sad\r
+business has been so well hushed up, and am only concerned that their\r
+living together before the marriage took place should be so generally\r
+known. I must not, however, neglect the duties of my station, or refrain\r
+from declaring my amazement at hearing that you received the young\r
+couple into your house as soon as they were married. It was an\r
+encouragement of vice; and had I been the rector of Longbourn, I should\r
+very strenuously have opposed it. You ought certainly to forgive them,\r
+as a Christian, but never to admit them in your sight, or allow their\r
+names to be mentioned in your hearing.' That is his notion of Christian\r
+forgiveness! The rest of his letter is only about his dear Charlotte's\r
+situation, and his expectation of a young olive-branch. But, Lizzy, you\r
+look as if you did not enjoy it. You are not going to be _missish_,\r
+I hope, and pretend to be affronted at an idle report. For what do we\r
+live, but to make sport for our neighbours, and laugh at them in our\r
+turn?"\r
+\r
+"Oh!" cried Elizabeth, "I am excessively diverted. But it is so\r
+strange!"\r
+\r
+"Yes--_that_ is what makes it amusing. Had they fixed on any other man\r
+it would have been nothing; but _his_ perfect indifference, and _your_\r
+pointed dislike, make it so delightfully absurd! Much as I abominate\r
+writing, I would not give up Mr. Collins's correspondence for any\r
+consideration. Nay, when I read a letter of his, I cannot help giving\r
+him the preference even over Wickham, much as I value the impudence and\r
+hypocrisy of my son-in-law. And pray, Lizzy, what said Lady Catherine\r
+about this report? Did she call to refuse her consent?"\r
+\r
+To this question his daughter replied only with a laugh; and as it had\r
+been asked without the least suspicion, she was not distressed by\r
+his repeating it. Elizabeth had never been more at a loss to make her\r
+feelings appear what they were not. It was necessary to laugh, when she\r
+would rather have cried. Her father had most cruelly mortified her, by\r
+what he said of Mr. Darcy's indifference, and she could do nothing but\r
+wonder at such a want of penetration, or fear that perhaps, instead of\r
+his seeing too little, she might have fancied too much.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 58\r
+\r
+\r
+Instead of receiving any such letter of excuse from his friend, as\r
+Elizabeth half expected Mr. Bingley to do, he was able to bring Darcy\r
+with him to Longbourn before many days had passed after Lady Catherine's\r
+visit. The gentlemen arrived early; and, before Mrs. Bennet had time\r
+to tell him of their having seen his aunt, of which her daughter sat\r
+in momentary dread, Bingley, who wanted to be alone with Jane, proposed\r
+their all walking out. It was agreed to. Mrs. Bennet was not in the\r
+habit of walking; Mary could never spare time; but the remaining five\r
+set off together. Bingley and Jane, however, soon allowed the others\r
+to outstrip them. They lagged behind, while Elizabeth, Kitty, and Darcy\r
+were to entertain each other. Very little was said by either; Kitty\r
+was too much afraid of him to talk; Elizabeth was secretly forming a\r
+desperate resolution; and perhaps he might be doing the same.\r
+\r
+They walked towards the Lucases, because Kitty wished to call upon\r
+Maria; and as Elizabeth saw no occasion for making it a general concern,\r
+when Kitty left them she went boldly on with him alone. Now was the\r
+moment for her resolution to be executed, and, while her courage was\r
+high, she immediately said:\r
+\r
+"Mr. Darcy, I am a very selfish creature; and, for the sake of giving\r
+relief to my own feelings, care not how much I may be wounding yours. I\r
+can no longer help thanking you for your unexampled kindness to my\r
+poor sister. Ever since I have known it, I have been most anxious to\r
+acknowledge to you how gratefully I feel it. Were it known to the rest\r
+of my family, I should not have merely my own gratitude to express."\r
+\r
+"I am sorry, exceedingly sorry," replied Darcy, in a tone of surprise\r
+and emotion, "that you have ever been informed of what may, in a\r
+mistaken light, have given you uneasiness. I did not think Mrs. Gardiner\r
+was so little to be trusted."\r
+\r
+"You must not blame my aunt. Lydia's thoughtlessness first betrayed to\r
+me that you had been concerned in the matter; and, of course, I could\r
+not rest till I knew the particulars. Let me thank you again and again,\r
+in the name of all my family, for that generous compassion which induced\r
+you to take so much trouble, and bear so many mortifications, for the\r
+sake of discovering them."\r
+\r
+"If you _will_ thank me," he replied, "let it be for yourself alone.\r
+That the wish of giving happiness to you might add force to the other\r
+inducements which led me on, I shall not attempt to deny. But your\r
+_family_ owe me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe I thought\r
+only of _you_."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth was too much embarrassed to say a word. After a short pause,\r
+her companion added, "You are too generous to trifle with me. If your\r
+feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. _My_\r
+affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence\r
+me on this subject for ever."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth, feeling all the more than common awkwardness and anxiety of\r
+his situation, now forced herself to speak; and immediately, though not\r
+very fluently, gave him to understand that her sentiments had undergone\r
+so material a change, since the period to which he alluded, as to make\r
+her receive with gratitude and pleasure his present assurances. The\r
+happiness which this reply produced, was such as he had probably never\r
+felt before; and he expressed himself on the occasion as sensibly and as\r
+warmly as a man violently in love can be supposed to do. Had Elizabeth\r
+been able to encounter his eye, she might have seen how well the\r
+expression of heartfelt delight, diffused over his face, became him;\r
+but, though she could not look, she could listen, and he told her of\r
+feelings, which, in proving of what importance she was to him, made his\r
+affection every moment more valuable.\r
+\r
+They walked on, without knowing in what direction. There was too much to\r
+be thought, and felt, and said, for attention to any other objects. She\r
+soon learnt that they were indebted for their present good understanding\r
+to the efforts of his aunt, who did call on him in her return through\r
+London, and there relate her journey to Longbourn, its motive, and the\r
+substance of her conversation with Elizabeth; dwelling emphatically on\r
+every expression of the latter which, in her ladyship's apprehension,\r
+peculiarly denoted her perverseness and assurance; in the belief that\r
+such a relation must assist her endeavours to obtain that promise\r
+from her nephew which she had refused to give. But, unluckily for her\r
+ladyship, its effect had been exactly contrariwise.\r
+\r
+"It taught me to hope," said he, "as I had scarcely ever allowed myself\r
+to hope before. I knew enough of your disposition to be certain that,\r
+had you been absolutely, irrevocably decided against me, you would have\r
+acknowledged it to Lady Catherine, frankly and openly."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth coloured and laughed as she replied, "Yes, you know enough\r
+of my frankness to believe me capable of _that_. After abusing you so\r
+abominably to your face, I could have no scruple in abusing you to all\r
+your relations."\r
+\r
+"What did you say of me, that I did not deserve? For, though your\r
+accusations were ill-founded, formed on mistaken premises, my\r
+behaviour to you at the time had merited the severest reproof. It was\r
+unpardonable. I cannot think of it without abhorrence."\r
+\r
+"We will not quarrel for the greater share of blame annexed to that\r
+evening," said Elizabeth. "The conduct of neither, if strictly examined,\r
+will be irreproachable; but since then, we have both, I hope, improved\r
+in civility."\r
+\r
+"I cannot be so easily reconciled to myself. The recollection of what I\r
+then said, of my conduct, my manners, my expressions during the whole of\r
+it, is now, and has been many months, inexpressibly painful to me. Your\r
+reproof, so well applied, I shall never forget: 'had you behaved in a\r
+more gentlemanlike manner.' Those were your words. You know not, you can\r
+scarcely conceive, how they have tortured me;--though it was some time,\r
+I confess, before I was reasonable enough to allow their justice."\r
+\r
+"I was certainly very far from expecting them to make so strong an\r
+impression. I had not the smallest idea of their being ever felt in such\r
+a way."\r
+\r
+"I can easily believe it. You thought me then devoid of every proper\r
+feeling, I am sure you did. The turn of your countenance I shall never\r
+forget, as you said that I could not have addressed you in any possible\r
+way that would induce you to accept me."\r
+\r
+"Oh! do not repeat what I then said. These recollections will not do at\r
+all. I assure you that I have long been most heartily ashamed of it."\r
+\r
+Darcy mentioned his letter. "Did it," said he, "did it soon make you\r
+think better of me? Did you, on reading it, give any credit to its\r
+contents?"\r
+\r
+She explained what its effect on her had been, and how gradually all her\r
+former prejudices had been removed.\r
+\r
+"I knew," said he, "that what I wrote must give you pain, but it was\r
+necessary. I hope you have destroyed the letter. There was one part\r
+especially, the opening of it, which I should dread your having the\r
+power of reading again. I can remember some expressions which might\r
+justly make you hate me."\r
+\r
+"The letter shall certainly be burnt, if you believe it essential to the\r
+preservation of my regard; but, though we have both reason to think my\r
+opinions not entirely unalterable, they are not, I hope, quite so easily\r
+changed as that implies."\r
+\r
+"When I wrote that letter," replied Darcy, "I believed myself perfectly\r
+calm and cool, but I am since convinced that it was written in a\r
+dreadful bitterness of spirit."\r
+\r
+"The letter, perhaps, began in bitterness, but it did not end so. The\r
+adieu is charity itself. But think no more of the letter. The feelings\r
+of the person who wrote, and the person who received it, are now\r
+so widely different from what they were then, that every unpleasant\r
+circumstance attending it ought to be forgotten. You must learn some\r
+of my philosophy. Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you\r
+pleasure."\r
+\r
+"I cannot give you credit for any philosophy of the kind. Your\r
+retrospections must be so totally void of reproach, that the contentment\r
+arising from them is not of philosophy, but, what is much better, of\r
+innocence. But with me, it is not so. Painful recollections will intrude\r
+which cannot, which ought not, to be repelled. I have been a selfish\r
+being all my life, in practice, though not in principle. As a child I\r
+was taught what was right, but I was not taught to correct my temper. I\r
+was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit.\r
+Unfortunately an only son (for many years an only child), I was spoilt\r
+by my parents, who, though good themselves (my father, particularly, all\r
+that was benevolent and amiable), allowed, encouraged, almost taught\r
+me to be selfish and overbearing; to care for none beyond my own family\r
+circle; to think meanly of all the rest of the world; to wish at least\r
+to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own. Such I\r
+was, from eight to eight and twenty; and such I might still have been\r
+but for you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth! What do I not owe you! You\r
+taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advantageous. By you,\r
+I was properly humbled. I came to you without a doubt of my reception.\r
+You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman\r
+worthy of being pleased."\r
+\r
+"Had you then persuaded yourself that I should?"\r
+\r
+"Indeed I had. What will you think of my vanity? I believed you to be\r
+wishing, expecting my addresses."\r
+\r
+"My manners must have been in fault, but not intentionally, I assure\r
+you. I never meant to deceive you, but my spirits might often lead me\r
+wrong. How you must have hated me after _that_ evening?"\r
+\r
+"Hate you! I was angry perhaps at first, but my anger soon began to take\r
+a proper direction."\r
+\r
+"I am almost afraid of asking what you thought of me, when we met at\r
+Pemberley. You blamed me for coming?"\r
+\r
+"No indeed; I felt nothing but surprise."\r
+\r
+"Your surprise could not be greater than _mine_ in being noticed by you.\r
+My conscience told me that I deserved no extraordinary politeness, and I\r
+confess that I did not expect to receive _more_ than my due."\r
+\r
+"My object then," replied Darcy, "was to show you, by every civility in\r
+my power, that I was not so mean as to resent the past; and I hoped to\r
+obtain your forgiveness, to lessen your ill opinion, by letting you\r
+see that your reproofs had been attended to. How soon any other wishes\r
+introduced themselves I can hardly tell, but I believe in about half an\r
+hour after I had seen you."\r
+\r
+He then told her of Georgiana's delight in her acquaintance, and of her\r
+disappointment at its sudden interruption; which naturally leading to\r
+the cause of that interruption, she soon learnt that his resolution of\r
+following her from Derbyshire in quest of her sister had been formed\r
+before he quitted the inn, and that his gravity and thoughtfulness\r
+there had arisen from no other struggles than what such a purpose must\r
+comprehend.\r
+\r
+She expressed her gratitude again, but it was too painful a subject to\r
+each, to be dwelt on farther.\r
+\r
+After walking several miles in a leisurely manner, and too busy to know\r
+anything about it, they found at last, on examining their watches, that\r
+it was time to be at home.\r
+\r
+"What could become of Mr. Bingley and Jane!" was a wonder which\r
+introduced the discussion of their affairs. Darcy was delighted with\r
+their engagement; his friend had given him the earliest information of\r
+it.\r
+\r
+"I must ask whether you were surprised?" said Elizabeth.\r
+\r
+"Not at all. When I went away, I felt that it would soon happen."\r
+\r
+"That is to say, you had given your permission. I guessed as much." And\r
+though he exclaimed at the term, she found that it had been pretty much\r
+the case.\r
+\r
+"On the evening before my going to London," said he, "I made a\r
+confession to him, which I believe I ought to have made long ago. I\r
+told him of all that had occurred to make my former interference in his\r
+affairs absurd and impertinent. His surprise was great. He had never had\r
+the slightest suspicion. I told him, moreover, that I believed myself\r
+mistaken in supposing, as I had done, that your sister was indifferent\r
+to him; and as I could easily perceive that his attachment to her was\r
+unabated, I felt no doubt of their happiness together."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth could not help smiling at his easy manner of directing his\r
+friend.\r
+\r
+"Did you speak from your own observation," said she, "when you told him\r
+that my sister loved him, or merely from my information last spring?"\r
+\r
+"From the former. I had narrowly observed her during the two visits\r
+which I had lately made here; and I was convinced of her affection."\r
+\r
+"And your assurance of it, I suppose, carried immediate conviction to\r
+him."\r
+\r
+"It did. Bingley is most unaffectedly modest. His diffidence had\r
+prevented his depending on his own judgment in so anxious a case, but\r
+his reliance on mine made every thing easy. I was obliged to confess\r
+one thing, which for a time, and not unjustly, offended him. I could not\r
+allow myself to conceal that your sister had been in town three months\r
+last winter, that I had known it, and purposely kept it from him. He was\r
+angry. But his anger, I am persuaded, lasted no longer than he remained\r
+in any doubt of your sister's sentiments. He has heartily forgiven me\r
+now."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth longed to observe that Mr. Bingley had been a most delightful\r
+friend; so easily guided that his worth was invaluable; but she checked\r
+herself. She remembered that he had yet to learn to be laughed at,\r
+and it was rather too early to begin. In anticipating the happiness\r
+of Bingley, which of course was to be inferior only to his own, he\r
+continued the conversation till they reached the house. In the hall they\r
+parted.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 59\r
+\r
+\r
+"My dear Lizzy, where can you have been walking to?" was a question\r
+which Elizabeth received from Jane as soon as she entered their room,\r
+and from all the others when they sat down to table. She had only to\r
+say in reply, that they had wandered about, till she was beyond her own\r
+knowledge. She coloured as she spoke; but neither that, nor anything\r
+else, awakened a suspicion of the truth.\r
+\r
+The evening passed quietly, unmarked by anything extraordinary. The\r
+acknowledged lovers talked and laughed, the unacknowledged were silent.\r
+Darcy was not of a disposition in which happiness overflows in mirth;\r
+and Elizabeth, agitated and confused, rather _knew_ that she was happy\r
+than _felt_ herself to be so; for, besides the immediate embarrassment,\r
+there were other evils before her. She anticipated what would be felt\r
+in the family when her situation became known; she was aware that no\r
+one liked him but Jane; and even feared that with the others it was a\r
+dislike which not all his fortune and consequence might do away.\r
+\r
+At night she opened her heart to Jane. Though suspicion was very far\r
+from Miss Bennet's general habits, she was absolutely incredulous here.\r
+\r
+"You are joking, Lizzy. This cannot be!--engaged to Mr. Darcy! No, no,\r
+you shall not deceive me. I know it to be impossible."\r
+\r
+"This is a wretched beginning indeed! My sole dependence was on you; and\r
+I am sure nobody else will believe me, if you do not. Yet, indeed, I am\r
+in earnest. I speak nothing but the truth. He still loves me, and we are\r
+engaged."\r
+\r
+Jane looked at her doubtingly. "Oh, Lizzy! it cannot be. I know how much\r
+you dislike him."\r
+\r
+"You know nothing of the matter. _That_ is all to be forgot. Perhaps I\r
+did not always love him so well as I do now. But in such cases as\r
+these, a good memory is unpardonable. This is the last time I shall ever\r
+remember it myself."\r
+\r
+Miss Bennet still looked all amazement. Elizabeth again, and more\r
+seriously assured her of its truth.\r
+\r
+"Good Heaven! can it be really so! Yet now I must believe you," cried\r
+Jane. "My dear, dear Lizzy, I would--I do congratulate you--but are you\r
+certain? forgive the question--are you quite certain that you can be\r
+happy with him?"\r
+\r
+"There can be no doubt of that. It is settled between us already, that\r
+we are to be the happiest couple in the world. But are you pleased,\r
+Jane? Shall you like to have such a brother?"\r
+\r
+"Very, very much. Nothing could give either Bingley or myself more\r
+delight. But we considered it, we talked of it as impossible. And do you\r
+really love him quite well enough? Oh, Lizzy! do anything rather than\r
+marry without affection. Are you quite sure that you feel what you ought\r
+to do?"\r
+\r
+"Oh, yes! You will only think I feel _more_ than I ought to do, when I\r
+tell you all."\r
+\r
+"What do you mean?"\r
+\r
+"Why, I must confess that I love him better than I do Bingley. I am\r
+afraid you will be angry."\r
+\r
+"My dearest sister, now _be_ serious. I want to talk very seriously. Let\r
+me know every thing that I am to know, without delay. Will you tell me\r
+how long you have loved him?"\r
+\r
+"It has been coming on so gradually, that I hardly know when it began.\r
+But I believe I must date it from my first seeing his beautiful grounds\r
+at Pemberley."\r
+\r
+Another entreaty that she would be serious, however, produced the\r
+desired effect; and she soon satisfied Jane by her solemn assurances\r
+of attachment. When convinced on that article, Miss Bennet had nothing\r
+further to wish.\r
+\r
+"Now I am quite happy," said she, "for you will be as happy as myself.\r
+I always had a value for him. Were it for nothing but his love of you,\r
+I must always have esteemed him; but now, as Bingley's friend and your\r
+husband, there can be only Bingley and yourself more dear to me. But\r
+Lizzy, you have been very sly, very reserved with me. How little did you\r
+tell me of what passed at Pemberley and Lambton! I owe all that I know\r
+of it to another, not to you."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth told her the motives of her secrecy. She had been unwilling\r
+to mention Bingley; and the unsettled state of her own feelings had made\r
+her equally avoid the name of his friend. But now she would no longer\r
+conceal from her his share in Lydia's marriage. All was acknowledged,\r
+and half the night spent in conversation.\r
+\r
+ * * * * *\r
+\r
+"Good gracious!" cried Mrs. Bennet, as she stood at a window the next\r
+morning, "if that disagreeable Mr. Darcy is not coming here again with\r
+our dear Bingley! What can he mean by being so tiresome as to be always\r
+coming here? I had no notion but he would go a-shooting, or something or\r
+other, and not disturb us with his company. What shall we do with him?\r
+Lizzy, you must walk out with him again, that he may not be in Bingley's\r
+way."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth could hardly help laughing at so convenient a proposal; yet\r
+was really vexed that her mother should be always giving him such an\r
+epithet.\r
+\r
+As soon as they entered, Bingley looked at her so expressively, and\r
+shook hands with such warmth, as left no doubt of his good information;\r
+and he soon afterwards said aloud, "Mrs. Bennet, have you no more lanes\r
+hereabouts in which Lizzy may lose her way again to-day?"\r
+\r
+"I advise Mr. Darcy, and Lizzy, and Kitty," said Mrs. Bennet, "to walk\r
+to Oakham Mount this morning. It is a nice long walk, and Mr. Darcy has\r
+never seen the view."\r
+\r
+"It may do very well for the others," replied Mr. Bingley; "but I am\r
+sure it will be too much for Kitty. Won't it, Kitty?" Kitty owned that\r
+she had rather stay at home. Darcy professed a great curiosity to see\r
+the view from the Mount, and Elizabeth silently consented. As she went\r
+up stairs to get ready, Mrs. Bennet followed her, saying:\r
+\r
+"I am quite sorry, Lizzy, that you should be forced to have that\r
+disagreeable man all to yourself. But I hope you will not mind it: it is\r
+all for Jane's sake, you know; and there is no occasion for talking\r
+to him, except just now and then. So, do not put yourself to\r
+inconvenience."\r
+\r
+During their walk, it was resolved that Mr. Bennet's consent should be\r
+asked in the course of the evening. Elizabeth reserved to herself the\r
+application for her mother's. She could not determine how her mother\r
+would take it; sometimes doubting whether all his wealth and grandeur\r
+would be enough to overcome her abhorrence of the man. But whether she\r
+were violently set against the match, or violently delighted with it, it\r
+was certain that her manner would be equally ill adapted to do credit\r
+to her sense; and she could no more bear that Mr. Darcy should hear\r
+the first raptures of her joy, than the first vehemence of her\r
+disapprobation.\r
+\r
+ * * * * *\r
+\r
+In the evening, soon after Mr. Bennet withdrew to the library, she saw\r
+Mr. Darcy rise also and follow him, and her agitation on seeing it was\r
+extreme. She did not fear her father's opposition, but he was going to\r
+be made unhappy; and that it should be through her means--that _she_,\r
+his favourite child, should be distressing him by her choice, should be\r
+filling him with fears and regrets in disposing of her--was a wretched\r
+reflection, and she sat in misery till Mr. Darcy appeared again, when,\r
+looking at him, she was a little relieved by his smile. In a few minutes\r
+he approached the table where she was sitting with Kitty; and, while\r
+pretending to admire her work said in a whisper, "Go to your father, he\r
+wants you in the library." She was gone directly.\r
+\r
+Her father was walking about the room, looking grave and anxious.\r
+"Lizzy," said he, "what are you doing? Are you out of your senses, to be\r
+accepting this man? Have not you always hated him?"\r
+\r
+How earnestly did she then wish that her former opinions had been more\r
+reasonable, her expressions more moderate! It would have spared her from\r
+explanations and professions which it was exceedingly awkward to give;\r
+but they were now necessary, and she assured him, with some confusion,\r
+of her attachment to Mr. Darcy.\r
+\r
+"Or, in other words, you are determined to have him. He is rich, to be\r
+sure, and you may have more fine clothes and fine carriages than Jane.\r
+But will they make you happy?"\r
+\r
+"Have you any other objection," said Elizabeth, "than your belief of my\r
+indifference?"\r
+\r
+"None at all. We all know him to be a proud, unpleasant sort of man; but\r
+this would be nothing if you really liked him."\r
+\r
+"I do, I do like him," she replied, with tears in her eyes, "I love him.\r
+Indeed he has no improper pride. He is perfectly amiable. You do not\r
+know what he really is; then pray do not pain me by speaking of him in\r
+such terms."\r
+\r
+"Lizzy," said her father, "I have given him my consent. He is the kind\r
+of man, indeed, to whom I should never dare refuse anything, which he\r
+condescended to ask. I now give it to _you_, if you are resolved on\r
+having him. But let me advise you to think better of it. I know\r
+your disposition, Lizzy. I know that you could be neither happy nor\r
+respectable, unless you truly esteemed your husband; unless you looked\r
+up to him as a superior. Your lively talents would place you in the\r
+greatest danger in an unequal marriage. You could scarcely escape\r
+discredit and misery. My child, let me not have the grief of seeing\r
+_you_ unable to respect your partner in life. You know not what you are\r
+about."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth, still more affected, was earnest and solemn in her reply; and\r
+at length, by repeated assurances that Mr. Darcy was really the object\r
+of her choice, by explaining the gradual change which her estimation of\r
+him had undergone, relating her absolute certainty that his affection\r
+was not the work of a day, but had stood the test of many months'\r
+suspense, and enumerating with energy all his good qualities, she did\r
+conquer her father's incredulity, and reconcile him to the match.\r
+\r
+"Well, my dear," said he, when she ceased speaking, "I have no more to\r
+say. If this be the case, he deserves you. I could not have parted with\r
+you, my Lizzy, to anyone less worthy."\r
+\r
+To complete the favourable impression, she then told him what Mr. Darcy\r
+had voluntarily done for Lydia. He heard her with astonishment.\r
+\r
+"This is an evening of wonders, indeed! And so, Darcy did every thing;\r
+made up the match, gave the money, paid the fellow's debts, and got him\r
+his commission! So much the better. It will save me a world of trouble\r
+and economy. Had it been your uncle's doing, I must and _would_ have\r
+paid him; but these violent young lovers carry every thing their own\r
+way. I shall offer to pay him to-morrow; he will rant and storm about\r
+his love for you, and there will be an end of the matter."\r
+\r
+He then recollected her embarrassment a few days before, on his reading\r
+Mr. Collins's letter; and after laughing at her some time, allowed her\r
+at last to go--saying, as she quitted the room, "If any young men come\r
+for Mary or Kitty, send them in, for I am quite at leisure."\r
+\r
+Elizabeth's mind was now relieved from a very heavy weight; and, after\r
+half an hour's quiet reflection in her own room, she was able to join\r
+the others with tolerable composure. Every thing was too recent for\r
+gaiety, but the evening passed tranquilly away; there was no longer\r
+anything material to be dreaded, and the comfort of ease and familiarity\r
+would come in time.\r
+\r
+When her mother went up to her dressing-room at night, she followed her,\r
+and made the important communication. Its effect was most extraordinary;\r
+for on first hearing it, Mrs. Bennet sat quite still, and unable to\r
+utter a syllable. Nor was it under many, many minutes that she could\r
+comprehend what she heard; though not in general backward to credit\r
+what was for the advantage of her family, or that came in the shape of a\r
+lover to any of them. She began at length to recover, to fidget about in\r
+her chair, get up, sit down again, wonder, and bless herself.\r
+\r
+"Good gracious! Lord bless me! only think! dear me! Mr. Darcy! Who would\r
+have thought it! And is it really true? Oh! my sweetest Lizzy! how rich\r
+and how great you will be! What pin-money, what jewels, what carriages\r
+you will have! Jane's is nothing to it--nothing at all. I am so\r
+pleased--so happy. Such a charming man!--so handsome! so tall!--Oh, my\r
+dear Lizzy! pray apologise for my having disliked him so much before. I\r
+hope he will overlook it. Dear, dear Lizzy. A house in town! Every thing\r
+that is charming! Three daughters married! Ten thousand a year! Oh,\r
+Lord! What will become of me. I shall go distracted."\r
+\r
+This was enough to prove that her approbation need not be doubted: and\r
+Elizabeth, rejoicing that such an effusion was heard only by herself,\r
+soon went away. But before she had been three minutes in her own room,\r
+her mother followed her.\r
+\r
+"My dearest child," she cried, "I can think of nothing else! Ten\r
+thousand a year, and very likely more! 'Tis as good as a Lord! And a\r
+special licence. You must and shall be married by a special licence. But\r
+my dearest love, tell me what dish Mr. Darcy is particularly fond of,\r
+that I may have it to-morrow."\r
+\r
+This was a sad omen of what her mother's behaviour to the gentleman\r
+himself might be; and Elizabeth found that, though in the certain\r
+possession of his warmest affection, and secure of her relations'\r
+consent, there was still something to be wished for. But the morrow\r
+passed off much better than she expected; for Mrs. Bennet luckily stood\r
+in such awe of her intended son-in-law that she ventured not to speak to\r
+him, unless it was in her power to offer him any attention, or mark her\r
+deference for his opinion.\r
+\r
+Elizabeth had the satisfaction of seeing her father taking pains to get\r
+acquainted with him; and Mr. Bennet soon assured her that he was rising\r
+every hour in his esteem.\r
+\r
+"I admire all my three sons-in-law highly," said he. "Wickham, perhaps,\r
+is my favourite; but I think I shall like _your_ husband quite as well\r
+as Jane's."\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 60\r
+\r
+\r
+Elizabeth's spirits soon rising to playfulness again, she wanted Mr.\r
+Darcy to account for his having ever fallen in love with her. "How could\r
+you begin?" said she. "I can comprehend your going on charmingly, when\r
+you had once made a beginning; but what could set you off in the first\r
+place?"\r
+\r
+"I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which\r
+laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I\r
+knew that I _had_ begun."\r
+\r
+"My beauty you had early withstood, and as for my manners--my behaviour\r
+to _you_ was at least always bordering on the uncivil, and I never spoke\r
+to you without rather wishing to give you pain than not. Now be sincere;\r
+did you admire me for my impertinence?"\r
+\r
+"For the liveliness of your mind, I did."\r
+\r
+"You may as well call it impertinence at once. It was very little less.\r
+The fact is, that you were sick of civility, of deference, of officious\r
+attention. You were disgusted with the women who were always speaking,\r
+and looking, and thinking for _your_ approbation alone. I roused, and\r
+interested you, because I was so unlike _them_. Had you not been really\r
+amiable, you would have hated me for it; but in spite of the pains you\r
+took to disguise yourself, your feelings were always noble and just; and\r
+in your heart, you thoroughly despised the persons who so assiduously\r
+courted you. There--I have saved you the trouble of accounting for\r
+it; and really, all things considered, I begin to think it perfectly\r
+reasonable. To be sure, you knew no actual good of me--but nobody thinks\r
+of _that_ when they fall in love."\r
+\r
+"Was there no good in your affectionate behaviour to Jane while she was\r
+ill at Netherfield?"\r
+\r
+"Dearest Jane! who could have done less for her? But make a virtue of it\r
+by all means. My good qualities are under your protection, and you are\r
+to exaggerate them as much as possible; and, in return, it belongs to me\r
+to find occasions for teasing and quarrelling with you as often as may\r
+be; and I shall begin directly by asking you what made you so unwilling\r
+to come to the point at last. What made you so shy of me, when you first\r
+called, and afterwards dined here? Why, especially, when you called, did\r
+you look as if you did not care about me?"\r
+\r
+"Because you were grave and silent, and gave me no encouragement."\r
+\r
+"But I was embarrassed."\r
+\r
+"And so was I."\r
+\r
+"You might have talked to me more when you came to dinner."\r
+\r
+"A man who had felt less, might."\r
+\r
+"How unlucky that you should have a reasonable answer to give, and that\r
+I should be so reasonable as to admit it! But I wonder how long you\r
+_would_ have gone on, if you had been left to yourself. I wonder when\r
+you _would_ have spoken, if I had not asked you! My resolution of\r
+thanking you for your kindness to Lydia had certainly great effect.\r
+_Too much_, I am afraid; for what becomes of the moral, if our comfort\r
+springs from a breach of promise? for I ought not to have mentioned the\r
+subject. This will never do."\r
+\r
+"You need not distress yourself. The moral will be perfectly fair. Lady\r
+Catherine's unjustifiable endeavours to separate us were the means of\r
+removing all my doubts. I am not indebted for my present happiness to\r
+your eager desire of expressing your gratitude. I was not in a humour\r
+to wait for any opening of yours. My aunt's intelligence had given me\r
+hope, and I was determined at once to know every thing."\r
+\r
+"Lady Catherine has been of infinite use, which ought to make her happy,\r
+for she loves to be of use. But tell me, what did you come down to\r
+Netherfield for? Was it merely to ride to Longbourn and be embarrassed?\r
+or had you intended any more serious consequence?"\r
+\r
+"My real purpose was to see _you_, and to judge, if I could, whether I\r
+might ever hope to make you love me. My avowed one, or what I avowed to\r
+myself, was to see whether your sister were still partial to Bingley,\r
+and if she were, to make the confession to him which I have since made."\r
+\r
+"Shall you ever have courage to announce to Lady Catherine what is to\r
+befall her?"\r
+\r
+"I am more likely to want more time than courage, Elizabeth. But it\r
+ought to be done, and if you will give me a sheet of paper, it shall be\r
+done directly."\r
+\r
+"And if I had not a letter to write myself, I might sit by you and\r
+admire the evenness of your writing, as another young lady once did. But\r
+I have an aunt, too, who must not be longer neglected."\r
+\r
+From an unwillingness to confess how much her intimacy with Mr. Darcy\r
+had been over-rated, Elizabeth had never yet answered Mrs. Gardiner's\r
+long letter; but now, having _that_ to communicate which she knew would\r
+be most welcome, she was almost ashamed to find that her uncle and\r
+aunt had already lost three days of happiness, and immediately wrote as\r
+follows:\r
+\r
+"I would have thanked you before, my dear aunt, as I ought to have done,\r
+for your long, kind, satisfactory, detail of particulars; but to say the\r
+truth, I was too cross to write. You supposed more than really existed.\r
+But _now_ suppose as much as you choose; give a loose rein to your\r
+fancy, indulge your imagination in every possible flight which the\r
+subject will afford, and unless you believe me actually married, you\r
+cannot greatly err. You must write again very soon, and praise him a\r
+great deal more than you did in your last. I thank you, again and again,\r
+for not going to the Lakes. How could I be so silly as to wish it! Your\r
+idea of the ponies is delightful. We will go round the Park every day. I\r
+am the happiest creature in the world. Perhaps other people have said so\r
+before, but not one with such justice. I am happier even than Jane; she\r
+only smiles, I laugh. Mr. Darcy sends you all the love in the world that\r
+he can spare from me. You are all to come to Pemberley at Christmas.\r
+Yours, etc."\r
+\r
+Mr. Darcy's letter to Lady Catherine was in a different style; and still\r
+different from either was what Mr. Bennet sent to Mr. Collins, in reply\r
+to his last.\r
+\r
+"DEAR SIR,\r
+\r
+"I must trouble you once more for congratulations. Elizabeth will soon\r
+be the wife of Mr. Darcy. Console Lady Catherine as well as you can.\r
+But, if I were you, I would stand by the nephew. He has more to give.\r
+\r
+"Yours sincerely, etc."\r
+\r
+Miss Bingley's congratulations to her brother, on his approaching\r
+marriage, were all that was affectionate and insincere. She wrote even\r
+to Jane on the occasion, to express her delight, and repeat all her\r
+former professions of regard. Jane was not deceived, but she was\r
+affected; and though feeling no reliance on her, could not help writing\r
+her a much kinder answer than she knew was deserved.\r
+\r
+The joy which Miss Darcy expressed on receiving similar information,\r
+was as sincere as her brother's in sending it. Four sides of paper were\r
+insufficient to contain all her delight, and all her earnest desire of\r
+being loved by her sister.\r
+\r
+Before any answer could arrive from Mr. Collins, or any congratulations\r
+to Elizabeth from his wife, the Longbourn family heard that the\r
+Collinses were come themselves to Lucas Lodge. The reason of this\r
+sudden removal was soon evident. Lady Catherine had been rendered\r
+so exceedingly angry by the contents of her nephew's letter, that\r
+Charlotte, really rejoicing in the match, was anxious to get away till\r
+the storm was blown over. At such a moment, the arrival of her friend\r
+was a sincere pleasure to Elizabeth, though in the course of their\r
+meetings she must sometimes think the pleasure dearly bought, when she\r
+saw Mr. Darcy exposed to all the parading and obsequious civility of\r
+her husband. He bore it, however, with admirable calmness. He could even\r
+listen to Sir William Lucas, when he complimented him on carrying away\r
+the brightest jewel of the country, and expressed his hopes of their all\r
+meeting frequently at St. James's, with very decent composure. If he did\r
+shrug his shoulders, it was not till Sir William was out of sight.\r
+\r
+Mrs. Phillips's vulgarity was another, and perhaps a greater, tax on his\r
+forbearance; and though Mrs. Phillips, as well as her sister, stood in\r
+too much awe of him to speak with the familiarity which Bingley's good\r
+humour encouraged, yet, whenever she _did_ speak, she must be vulgar.\r
+Nor was her respect for him, though it made her more quiet, at all\r
+likely to make her more elegant. Elizabeth did all she could to shield\r
+him from the frequent notice of either, and was ever anxious to keep\r
+him to herself, and to those of her family with whom he might converse\r
+without mortification; and though the uncomfortable feelings arising\r
+from all this took from the season of courtship much of its pleasure, it\r
+added to the hope of the future; and she looked forward with delight to\r
+the time when they should be removed from society so little pleasing\r
+to either, to all the comfort and elegance of their family party at\r
+Pemberley.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+Chapter 61\r
+\r
+\r
+Happy for all her maternal feelings was the day on which Mrs. Bennet got\r
+rid of her two most deserving daughters. With what delighted pride\r
+she afterwards visited Mrs. Bingley, and talked of Mrs. Darcy, may\r
+be guessed. I wish I could say, for the sake of her family, that the\r
+accomplishment of her earnest desire in the establishment of so many\r
+of her children produced so happy an effect as to make her a sensible,\r
+amiable, well-informed woman for the rest of her life; though perhaps it\r
+was lucky for her husband, who might not have relished domestic felicity\r
+in so unusual a form, that she still was occasionally nervous and\r
+invariably silly.\r
+\r
+Mr. Bennet missed his second daughter exceedingly; his affection for her\r
+drew him oftener from home than anything else could do. He delighted in\r
+going to Pemberley, especially when he was least expected.\r
+\r
+Mr. Bingley and Jane remained at Netherfield only a twelvemonth. So near\r
+a vicinity to her mother and Meryton relations was not desirable even to\r
+_his_ easy temper, or _her_ affectionate heart. The darling wish of his\r
+sisters was then gratified; he bought an estate in a neighbouring county\r
+to Derbyshire, and Jane and Elizabeth, in addition to every other source\r
+of happiness, were within thirty miles of each other.\r
+\r
+Kitty, to her very material advantage, spent the chief of her time with\r
+her two elder sisters. In society so superior to what she had generally\r
+known, her improvement was great. She was not of so ungovernable a\r
+temper as Lydia; and, removed from the influence of Lydia's example,\r
+she became, by proper attention and management, less irritable, less\r
+ignorant, and less insipid. From the further disadvantage of Lydia's\r
+society she was of course carefully kept, and though Mrs. Wickham\r
+frequently invited her to come and stay with her, with the promise of\r
+balls and young men, her father would never consent to her going.\r
+\r
+Mary was the only daughter who remained at home; and she was necessarily\r
+drawn from the pursuit of accomplishments by Mrs. Bennet's being quite\r
+unable to sit alone. Mary was obliged to mix more with the world, but\r
+she could still moralize over every morning visit; and as she was no\r
+longer mortified by comparisons between her sisters' beauty and her own,\r
+it was suspected by her father that she submitted to the change without\r
+much reluctance.\r
+\r
+As for Wickham and Lydia, their characters suffered no revolution from\r
+the marriage of her sisters. He bore with philosophy the conviction that\r
+Elizabeth must now become acquainted with whatever of his ingratitude\r
+and falsehood had before been unknown to her; and in spite of every\r
+thing, was not wholly without hope that Darcy might yet be prevailed on\r
+to make his fortune. The congratulatory letter which Elizabeth received\r
+from Lydia on her marriage, explained to her that, by his wife at least,\r
+if not by himself, such a hope was cherished. The letter was to this\r
+effect:\r
+\r
+"MY DEAR LIZZY,\r
+\r
+"I wish you joy. If you love Mr. Darcy half as well as I do my dear\r
+Wickham, you must be very happy. It is a great comfort to have you so\r
+rich, and when you have nothing else to do, I hope you will think of us.\r
+I am sure Wickham would like a place at court very much, and I do not\r
+think we shall have quite money enough to live upon without some help.\r
+Any place would do, of about three or four hundred a year; but however,\r
+do not speak to Mr. Darcy about it, if you had rather not.\r
+\r
+"Yours, etc."\r
+\r
+As it happened that Elizabeth had _much_ rather not, she endeavoured in\r
+her answer to put an end to every entreaty and expectation of the kind.\r
+Such relief, however, as it was in her power to afford, by the practice\r
+of what might be called economy in her own private expences, she\r
+frequently sent them. It had always been evident to her that such an\r
+income as theirs, under the direction of two persons so extravagant in\r
+their wants, and heedless of the future, must be very insufficient to\r
+their support; and whenever they changed their quarters, either Jane or\r
+herself were sure of being applied to for some little assistance\r
+towards discharging their bills. Their manner of living, even when the\r
+restoration of peace dismissed them to a home, was unsettled in the\r
+extreme. They were always moving from place to place in quest of a cheap\r
+situation, and always spending more than they ought. His affection for\r
+her soon sunk into indifference; hers lasted a little longer; and\r
+in spite of her youth and her manners, she retained all the claims to\r
+reputation which her marriage had given her.\r
+\r
+Though Darcy could never receive _him_ at Pemberley, yet, for\r
+Elizabeth's sake, he assisted him further in his profession. Lydia was\r
+occasionally a visitor there, when her husband was gone to enjoy himself\r
+in London or Bath; and with the Bingleys they both of them frequently\r
+staid so long, that even Bingley's good humour was overcome, and he\r
+proceeded so far as to talk of giving them a hint to be gone.\r
+\r
+Miss Bingley was very deeply mortified by Darcy's marriage; but as she\r
+thought it advisable to retain the right of visiting at Pemberley, she\r
+dropt all her resentment; was fonder than ever of Georgiana, almost as\r
+attentive to Darcy as heretofore, and paid off every arrear of civility\r
+to Elizabeth.\r
+\r
+Pemberley was now Georgiana's home; and the attachment of the sisters\r
+was exactly what Darcy had hoped to see. They were able to love each\r
+other even as well as they intended. Georgiana had the highest opinion\r
+in the world of Elizabeth; though at first she often listened with\r
+an astonishment bordering on alarm at her lively, sportive, manner of\r
+talking to her brother. He, who had always inspired in herself a respect\r
+which almost overcame her affection, she now saw the object of open\r
+pleasantry. Her mind received knowledge which had never before fallen\r
+in her way. By Elizabeth's instructions, she began to comprehend that\r
+a woman may take liberties with her husband which a brother will not\r
+always allow in a sister more than ten years younger than himself.\r
+\r
+Lady Catherine was extremely indignant on the marriage of her nephew;\r
+and as she gave way to all the genuine frankness of her character in\r
+her reply to the letter which announced its arrangement, she sent him\r
+language so very abusive, especially of Elizabeth, that for some time\r
+all intercourse was at an end. But at length, by Elizabeth's persuasion,\r
+he was prevailed on to overlook the offence, and seek a reconciliation;\r
+and, after a little further resistance on the part of his aunt, her\r
+resentment gave way, either to her affection for him, or her curiosity\r
+to see how his wife conducted herself; and she condescended to wait\r
+on them at Pemberley, in spite of that pollution which its woods had\r
+received, not merely from the presence of such a mistress, but the\r
+visits of her uncle and aunt from the city.\r
+\r
+With the Gardiners, they were always on the most intimate terms.\r
+Darcy, as well as Elizabeth, really loved them; and they were both ever\r
+sensible of the warmest gratitude towards the persons who, by bringing\r
+her into Derbyshire, had been the means of uniting them.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen\r
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--- /dev/null
+{
+ "cells": [
+ {
+ "cell_type": "markdown",
+ "metadata": {},
+ "source": [
+ "# Punctuation in novels\n",
+ "Inspired by https://medium.com/@neuroecology/punctuation-in-novels-8f316d542ec4#.qwj8e1n8m"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 14,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [],
+ "source": [
+ "import string\n",
+ "import collections\n",
+ "from PIL import Image, ImageDraw\n",
+ "from math import ceil\n",
+ "import matplotlib as mpl\n",
+ "import matplotlib.pyplot as plt\n",
+ "%matplotlib inline\n",
+ "import pandas as pd"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "markdown",
+ "metadata": {},
+ "source": [
+ "The `string` module has some nice subsets of characters. Does it know about punctuation?"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 2,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [
+ {
+ "data": {
+ "text/plain": [
+ "'!\"#$%&\\'()*+,-./:;<=>?@[\\\\]^_`{|}~'"
+ ]
+ },
+ "execution_count": 2,
+ "metadata": {},
+ "output_type": "execute_result"
+ }
+ ],
+ "source": [
+ "string.punctuation"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "markdown",
+ "metadata": {},
+ "source": [
+ "## Getting the punctuation\n",
+ "First, let's just open a text file and read the punctuation. We can also count the number of different punctuation characters in it."
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 5,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": true
+ },
+ "outputs": [],
+ "source": [
+ "sherlock = open('sherlock-holmes.txt').read()"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 6,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [
+ {
+ "name": "stdout",
+ "output_type": "stream",
+ "text": [
+ 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+ ]
+ }
+ ],
+ "source": [
+ "sherlock_punct = [c for c in sherlock if c in string.punctuation]\n",
+ "print(''.join(sherlock_punct))"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 7,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [
+ {
+ "data": {
+ "text/plain": [
+ "Counter({'!': 171,\n",
+ " '\"': 4834,\n",
+ " '&': 5,\n",
+ " \"'\": 1490,\n",
+ " '(': 5,\n",
+ " ',': 7053,\n",
+ " '-': 965,\n",
+ " '.': 4843,\n",
+ " '/': 1,\n",
+ " ':': 56,\n",
+ " ';': 202,\n",
+ " '?': 138})"
+ ]
+ },
+ "execution_count": 7,
+ "metadata": {},
+ "output_type": "execute_result"
+ }
+ ],
+ "source": [
+ "sherlock_counts = collections.Counter(sherlock_punct)\n",
+ "sherlock_counts"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 17,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [
+ {
+ "data": {
+ "text/plain": [
+ "! 171\n",
+ "\" 4834\n",
+ "& 5\n",
+ "' 1490\n",
+ "( 5\n",
+ ", 7053\n",
+ "- 965\n",
+ ". 4843\n",
+ "/ 1\n",
+ ": 56\n",
+ "; 202\n",
+ "? 138\n",
+ "dtype: int64"
+ ]
+ },
+ "execution_count": 17,
+ "metadata": {},
+ "output_type": "execute_result"
+ }
+ ],
+ "source": [
+ "sherlock_ps = pd.Series(sherlock_counts)\n",
+ "sherlock_ps.sort_index(inplace=True)\n",
+ "sherlock_ps"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 16,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [
+ {
+ "data": {
+ "text/plain": [
+ "<matplotlib.axes._subplots.AxesSubplot at 0x7f704324cdd8>"
+ ]
+ },
+ "execution_count": 16,
+ "metadata": {},
+ "output_type": "execute_result"
+ },
+ {
+ "data": {
+ "image/png": "iVBORw0KGgoAAAANSUhEUgAAAXkAAAD9CAYAAABZVQdHAAAABHNCSVQICAgIfAhkiAAAAAlwSFlz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\n",
+ "text/plain": [
+ "<matplotlib.figure.Figure at 0x7f70431aaac8>"
+ ]
+ },
+ "metadata": {},
+ "output_type": "display_data"
+ }
+ ],
+ "source": [
+ "sherlock_ps.plot(kind=\"bar\")"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "markdown",
+ "metadata": {},
+ "source": [
+ "Now we can read and process a novel, wrap that into a function and read some other novels"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 19,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": true
+ },
+ "outputs": [],
+ "source": [
+ "def punct_summarise(fname):\n",
+ " content = open(fname).read()\n",
+ " punct = ''.join(c for c in content if c in string.punctuation)\n",
+ " counts = collections.Counter(punct)\n",
+ " return {'punctuation': punct, 'counts': counts}"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 20,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [
+ {
+ "data": {
+ "text/plain": [
+ "Counter({'!': 171,\n",
+ " '\"': 4834,\n",
+ " '&': 5,\n",
+ " \"'\": 1490,\n",
+ " '(': 5,\n",
+ " ',': 7053,\n",
+ " '-': 965,\n",
+ " '.': 4843,\n",
+ " '/': 1,\n",
+ " ':': 56,\n",
+ " ';': 202,\n",
+ " '?': 138})"
+ ]
+ },
+ "execution_count": 20,
+ "metadata": {},
+ "output_type": "execute_result"
+ }
+ ],
+ "source": [
+ "# Complete Sherlock Holmes\n",
+ "sherlock = punct_summarise('sherlock-holmes.txt')\n",
+ "sherlock['counts']"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 21,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [
+ {
+ "data": {
+ "text/plain": [
+ "Counter({'!': 3923,\n",
+ " '\"': 17970,\n",
+ " '#': 1,\n",
+ " '$': 2,\n",
+ " '%': 1,\n",
+ " \"'\": 7529,\n",
+ " '(': 670,\n",
+ " ')': 670,\n",
+ " '*': 300,\n",
+ " ',': 39891,\n",
+ " '-': 6308,\n",
+ " '.': 30805,\n",
+ " '/': 29,\n",
+ " ':': 1014,\n",
+ " ';': 1145,\n",
+ " '=': 2,\n",
+ " '?': 3137,\n",
+ " '@': 2,\n",
+ " '[': 1,\n",
+ " ']': 1})"
+ ]
+ },
+ "execution_count": 21,
+ "metadata": {},
+ "output_type": "execute_result"
+ }
+ ],
+ "source": [
+ "wap = punct_summarise('war-and-peace.txt')\n",
+ "wap['counts']"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 22,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [
+ {
+ "data": {
+ "text/plain": [
+ "Counter({'!': 10815,\n",
+ " '\"': 6,\n",
+ " '&': 10,\n",
+ " \"'\": 27942,\n",
+ " ',': 82750,\n",
+ " '-': 4590,\n",
+ " '.': 36881,\n",
+ " ':': 10649,\n",
+ " ';': 17400,\n",
+ " '?': 10327,\n",
+ " '[': 19,\n",
+ " ']': 18})"
+ ]
+ },
+ "execution_count": 22,
+ "metadata": {},
+ "output_type": "execute_result"
+ }
+ ],
+ "source": [
+ "# Complete works of Shakespeare\n",
+ "shakespeare = punct_summarise('shakespeare.txt')\n",
+ "shakespeare['counts']"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 23,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [
+ {
+ "data": {
+ "text/plain": [
+ "Counter({'!': 1576,\n",
+ " '\"': 8,\n",
+ " '%': 3,\n",
+ " '&': 3,\n",
+ " \"'\": 4485,\n",
+ " '(': 1777,\n",
+ " ')': 1788,\n",
+ " '*': 90,\n",
+ " '+': 2,\n",
+ " ',': 16349,\n",
+ " '-': 5037,\n",
+ " '.': 21361,\n",
+ " '/': 58,\n",
+ " ':': 2564,\n",
+ " ';': 34,\n",
+ " '?': 2235,\n",
+ " '_': 4566})"
+ ]
+ },
+ "execution_count": 23,
+ "metadata": {},
+ "output_type": "execute_result"
+ }
+ ],
+ "source": [
+ "ulysses = punct_summarise('ulysses.txt')\n",
+ "ulysses['counts']"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 24,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [
+ {
+ "data": {
+ "text/plain": [
+ "Counter({'!': 500,\n",
+ " '\"': 3553,\n",
+ " '#': 1,\n",
+ " '$': 2,\n",
+ " '%': 1,\n",
+ " \"'\": 748,\n",
+ " '(': 38,\n",
+ " ')': 38,\n",
+ " '*': 58,\n",
+ " ',': 9280,\n",
+ " '-': 1193,\n",
+ " '.': 6396,\n",
+ " '/': 26,\n",
+ " ':': 155,\n",
+ " ';': 1538,\n",
+ " '?': 462,\n",
+ " '@': 2,\n",
+ " '[': 1,\n",
+ " ']': 2,\n",
+ " '_': 808})"
+ ]
+ },
+ "execution_count": 24,
+ "metadata": {},
+ "output_type": "execute_result"
+ }
+ ],
+ "source": [
+ "pap = punct_summarise('pride-and-prejudice.txt')\n",
+ "pap['counts']"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "markdown",
+ "metadata": {},
+ "source": [
+ "## Visualising the punctuation\n",
+ "Let's print the punctuation sets side-by-side to compare them."
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 25,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [
+ {
+ "name": "stdout",
+ "output_type": "stream",
+ "text": [
+ ".\",.\"\",'.\".\"\"-\".\".\",\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\".\"\".\",;,\"\".''''''''' ,.\",\",\"'..?\"\".,\",,\",,,.,..?.?\"\",\".\",\",,\"?.\",..\",\",\n",
+ "''',''''\".\",-,.--,.',--',,,\",.\"\".\"..-''..,,.,,\"',. .,',.',..,,(),:\".?.\".\",\",--\".?',.',\".\".,'.\".\"',\".\"\n",
+ ".\",\".\"\",.\"..',,\"\",\"\",....\"\"-\"\".,..,,\",,..\"\".,.,,.- .\"\"';.?\"(),\"'....\",,..\"?\".\",.,..\",.\"?,\",.\"...'!\",.\n",
+ ",-.,,.-,,,,,.,,,,.\"\".\"\",.\"\".\",.,.\"\",.,,,.,\",.\",\".\" .\"?\".\",',.,.\",,,.\",\",,\"?,\",\",?\":\"'....?\"\"..-,'.',.\n",
+ "\".\"\",\";.\"\"\".\"\"\"\".\",\"\"\".\",.,,\"\"\",.,..\"\",\"\".,,.\"\";\". .;,.--'.\"\",,\",'.\"-,.'.\",',,,.\",\",,\"',',,.''.\"'.:.'\n",
+ "\"\",\".\",-,\"\"\",,\"..\"\",\",.\":,,-,.\"\",\".,.--.\"\".\"!.-!,! ,,';.,,*.,,.',,,..*.,\",\"\"?\",,;,'.,,;.,,,\",,.\",,.-.\n",
+ "-!-!-!,,,,\"\".-\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\".,\"\"\"\",!\"\"-\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\", ,,,,.,-----.,,,.,,,,.,,.,,,,,.\",\",.\",,,\",.\",.\"-,-,\n",
+ "!!\"\"-\"\"\"\"..\"\"\"\"\"\".\"\"\"\",\"\"....\"\"\"\"\".\"\".\"\".\",.\"\"\"\"\"\" ,.\",,,\".\",\",,\"?.?\",,,.\"!\".,-,,-,,.,-'.,,..-,,,.,,,\n",
+ "\"\"\"\"-,...\"\"\"\"...,.,.,-\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\".\"\",\".\",.,,\"\".\"\"\"\".\" .\",,,\",.,.,.','.:\"?.\"\",,.\"\"?\"..,.,,'.\",\".,,.,,,,,,\n",
+ "\",\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\".\"\".-.\"'\".\",,.'\".\"\".\"\"\"\"\",-,,.-,\",.\"-'\" -,,,..,.,'.,,,.-..,.'..,,,.,,.,,,',,,..-,..',,,.'.\n",
+ ".',.'.,,,.,,,,.,,,,,,,..,-,--,,.',.,-,.,.\",\",,,.\"\" ','.\",!,,\",:\",.\".,.\",\".\",\".\",\";,-..\",,,\",..--.,,,,\n",
+ "\"'.,\"\"'.,,\"\";.,.'..,..,,,..-,,,.,-.,.\",,.,,,,,,\"\"\" ,,,,----.,.,,.\"!\";.\",,\",...,,,,.,,',..\",'....,?\",.\n",
+ ".\",'..-,.,,,.,.,.,,,,..,..-,.,,.\"...,?,,?,.,.,'.,. \".\",,.\",\",,.,,.,.',,-,,,,-,.,,,,.\"'?\",,.\",,\",.\",\".\n",
+ ",,\"\"\".\",.,,,-.,,.\",-,,,..,.,,'','&',..'\",,-,,.'.,, -.-,,,,..,,';,',,'.,.,;.\"!\".\"!\",.,,,,.,,'-,.,.\"...\n",
+ ".'.,',''\",.,.,.'.',''-,.\".',...,...,,,.''.''.!'''. ,\".\"----,!\"\"?\".,,.',,.\",,,,\".,,,.:,'.,,,.,,,,,.,.,\n",
+ "',,,,''\"-,,,,,,.,,.,.,,.,-\"\"\";\"\"\",.,.,,,,.''..,\"\"\" .,',.\",?\".\",\",',\"--....\"\",?\"\".\"\"?\"\",\",,\"!\".,,,.,,'\n",
+ "\"\",.\",.,,-\"\"\"\"'\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\",\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"..\",\",...,,,.\"\"\"\". .\"!...,,?\".\",\".\".?\".\",!\",'.,.\",,\",.\"',.,\",.,,,,.,,\n",
+ "..,.\"\"\"\"....-.\"\"\"\",\"\"\"\"--,,,.\"\"\"\"\",-.\"'-,-..,.,.\"\" .\",\".\",\".':\"!..\".'..-.\",?\",.\"'..\",,,.\",?\".\",,,\",\".\n",
+ ",,,,,\"\"\"\"\"\".,,\"-.,,,,...,,.,,.,.,,.',.,,.,-,-,-.\"\" ..\",,,..,,''.',,;'.\",,\".\",';'--,\".\",',!.,\",.\",,\",.\n",
+ ",,\".-..,.,\"\",\"\"..'...,,\"\",\"\"...,.?,.,..\"\"\"\"!\"\"\"\"\"\" ,,.,,,.',,.;.,----,,,,..\",\",\";',--..?\"\"!--!\".\"--!.\n"
+ ]
+ }
+ ],
+ "source": [
+ "line_len = 50\n",
+ "for i in range(5,25):\n",
+ " print(sherlock['punctuation'][line_len*i:line_len*(i+1)], wap['punctuation'][line_len*i:line_len*(i+1)])"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "markdown",
+ "metadata": {},
+ "source": [
+ "Again, now I know it's working, wrap it in a function."
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 26,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": true
+ },
+ "outputs": [],
+ "source": [
+ "def compare(text1, text2, offset=0, line_len=50):\n",
+ " for i in range(offset, max(len(text1), len(text2)), line_len):\n",
+ " t1 = text1[i:i+line_len]\n",
+ " t1 += (' ' * (line_len - len(t1)))\n",
+ " print(t1, text2[i:i+line_len])"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 27,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [
+ {
+ "name": "stdout",
+ "output_type": "stream",
+ "text": [
+ "..-.......'.........,,,.,,,.,.-'..,-,.,,...,-,,,,, ,.,-..::::,[#]:,:******,/:::::-:-:-:-:::::::-:-:\",\n",
+ ",,,.,,,,.:,,.,,,.-,-(,.-,,,,.,,,,.,,.,,..-...;,,., ,.,',----,','!?--.\",,-,.,,..,,;.,.,,-,:\",(),,--.\"\"\n",
+ ",,,..\"\".\",,\"\"\".\",.,,.,.\"\",\"\",.,\"\"\",\".,.,'.,,,,,\",. !!\",.,,,,.,,.,,,,,.\",,.',\",.\"??\".\",?\"\"'?.,\".\".\"\"'.\n",
+ "\"\";\",,..,,,-.,,,-,,,\".\"\",\",.\"\"\",,.\",..,\"\"\"\"\"\",\"\"\"\" .\"\",,\",,-,.\"'!,'?.\"\"?\",.\"?,.\",.,,.,,.,,,,,,,,.:\",'\n",
+ "?'\"\"!...,,.--,,,\",--.\"\".\"\",.\"-,'\",\"...,\"\"\".\"\"\"..,. .',,,.!..!,.,!....,,?...'..,,.?.-,.?!!,....',...!\"\n",
+ ".\",.\"\",'.\".\"\"-\".\".\",\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\".\"\".\",;,\"\".''''''''' ,.\",\",\"'..?\"\".,\",,\",,,.,..?.?\"\",\".\",\",,\"?.\",..\",\",\n",
+ "''',''''\".\",-,.--,.',--',,,\",.\"\".\"..-''..,,.,,\"',. .,',.',..,,(),:\".?.\".\",\",--\".?',.',\".\".,'.\".\"',\".\"\n",
+ ".\",\".\"\",.\"..',,\"\",\"\",....\"\"-\"\".,..,,\",,..\"\".,.,,.- .\"\"';.?\"(),\"'....\",,..\"?\".\",.,..\",.\"?,\",.\"...'!\",.\n",
+ ",-.,,.-,,,,,.,,,,.\"\".\"\",.\"\".\",.,.\"\",.,,,.,\",.\",\".\" .\"?\".\",',.,.\",,,.\",\",,\"?,\",\",?\":\"'....?\"\"..-,'.',.\n",
+ "\".\"\",\";.\"\"\".\"\"\"\".\",\"\"\".\",.,,\"\"\",.,..\"\",\"\".,,.\"\";\". .;,.--'.\"\",,\",'.\"-,.'.\",',,,.\",\",,\"',',,.''.\"'.:.'\n",
+ "\"\",\".\",-,\"\"\",,\"..\"\",\",.\":,,-,.\"\",\".,.--.\"\".\"!.-!,! ,,';.,,*.,,.',,,..*.,\",\"\"?\",,;,'.,,;.,,,\",,.\",,.-.\n",
+ "-!-!-!,,,,\"\".-\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\".,\"\"\"\",!\"\"-\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\", ,,,,.,-----.,,,.,,,,.,,.,,,,,.\",\",.\",,,\",.\",.\"-,-,\n",
+ "!!\"\"-\"\"\"\"..\"\"\"\"\"\".\"\"\"\",\"\"....\"\"\"\"\".\"\".\"\".\",.\"\"\"\"\"\" ,.\",,,\".\",\",,\"?.?\",,,.\"!\".,-,,-,,.,-'.,,..-,,,.,,,\n",
+ "\"\"\"\"-,...\"\"\"\"...,.,.,-\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\".\"\",\".\",.,,\"\".\"\"\"\".\" .\",,,\",.,.,.','.:\"?.\"\",,.\"\"?\"..,.,,'.\",\".,,.,,,,,,\n",
+ "\",\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\".\"\".-.\"'\".\",,.'\".\"\".\"\"\"\"\",-,,.-,\",.\"-'\" -,,,..,.,'.,,,.-..,.'..,,,.,,.,,,',,,..-,..',,,.'.\n",
+ ".',.'.,,,.,,,,.,,,,,,,..,-,--,,.',.,-,.,.\",\",,,.\"\" ','.\",!,,\",:\",.\".,.\",\".\",\".\",\";,-..\",,,\",..--.,,,,\n",
+ "\"'.,\"\"'.,,\"\";.,.'..,..,,,..-,,,.,-.,.\",,.,,,,,,\"\"\" ,,,,----.,.,,.\"!\";.\",,\",...,,,,.,,',..\",'....,?\",.\n",
+ ".\",'..-,.,,,.,.,.,,,,..,..-,.,,.\"...,?,,?,.,.,'.,. \".\",,.\",\",,.,,.,.',,-,,,,-,.,,,,.\"'?\",,.\",,\",.\",\".\n",
+ ",,\"\"\".\",.,,,-.,,.\",-,,,..,.,,'','&',..'\",,-,,.'.,, -.-,,,,..,,';,',,'.,.,;.\"!\".\"!\",.,,,,.,,'-,.,.\"...\n",
+ ".'.,',''\",.,.,.'.',''-,.\".',...,...,,,.''.''.!'''. ,\".\"----,!\"\"?\".,,.',,.\",,,,\".,,,.:,'.,,,.,,,,,.,.,\n",
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+ "\"\",.\",.,,-\"\"\"\"'\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\",\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\"..\",\",...,,,.\"\"\"\". .\"!...,,?\".\",\".\".?\".\",!\",'.,.\",,\",.\"',.,\",.,,,,.,,\n",
+ "..,.\"\"\"\"....-.\"\"\"\",\"\"\"\"--,,,.\"\"\"\"\",-.\"'-,-..,.,.\"\" .\",\".\",\".':\"!..\".'..-.\",?\",.\"'..\",,,.\",?\".\",,,\",\".\n",
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+ ",,\".-..,.,\"\",\"\"..'...,,\"\",\"\"...,.?,.,..\"\"\"\"!\"\"\"\"\"\" ,,.,,,.',,.;.,----,,,,..\",\",\";',--..?\"\"!--!\".\"--!.\n",
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+ "'\".\"'\"\"'\".\"''.,,.,'\"\"'.,\"\".-..,\",.,,.,,..,-.,,..,. ;,'.\"\",,!\",,,-..,.,,..\",?\",\",?!'!.\".\"',!'*,\",:\"''.\n",
+ ".\"\",-,,--\"\".,.,',..\",\".\".\"\"\"\"\"\"\"\",\"\"\"\"\",.\".,,.\"\"\"\" !'\"*,!\",\".\".\"\"?,\",:\",...,,?!\".\",.!,.\",.,,,..\",'--,\n",
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+ "'.''''.''\"',.,,-;.,,.''.''''''''''',,,.,..'''','.' !\".,,.:\".!?\"\",,\".,,..\",!............,!...,'...-!\".\n",
+ "'.;'.,''''\"\".,,-,.-'''.',-,.,',,.\",,;,.,'',.,,,-,, \",,!.\"\",,\".\"!\",.,-'.',,.\",!\",.\",,\",...;.\",\",.,,.,,\n",
+ "'.\",,.,..,;.'-,,.\",.,'.,.,..,,,.,,,,,,.\",,'.,.\"\"\"\" .,,--.\",,!':,,.--..!!!'.,,,!...'?...\".,-,.\",\",\",';\n",
+ ",..',,.,\"-.:-.,.,.\"\",.\",\"\",\",.\"'..,,.\"\",..,.,,-,-. ,,!,.\"'-.;,,.,.\"',\",\".,\"(),\".,,.,,!.,,,,--.,,.,\",\"\n",
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+ " '.?__/'____/__//---./-/-__////-/.---\n"
+ ]
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+ ],
+ "source": [
+ "compare(sherlock['punctuation'], ulysses['punctuation'])"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 30,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [
+ {
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+ "output_type": "stream",
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+ " .,.;,....,.\".';..,.\",\"....,,..\",.\"',,.,,.,;,.,'.,.\n",
+ " .,,..',,,.,,,..,,.,,.',.,..',,;.,,',,__,.,,.,,;,;,\n",
+ " ....,.,.,,,,-;,,..;.,...__,__.;,,,.,,.,.;,',,,,,.'\n",
+ " ,.,,.;.'.,;',.,.;,.,,,,.:\",\"..,.,,.,.,;,.,.\",.\"__,\n",
+ " .,,,,.,,,;,.,,.,.;;,.__,,',.,;,',.';,;,,.';..;,,.,\n",
+ " ,..',.;,,,.,',,;,,,,;,,,.,.,,;,,.,***********..***\n",
+ " **:://../////--.,(!).,,--.,,.,.,,.--.,.***:***-,(\"\n",
+ " \"),-(://./)..-..-,,,(/).,-.-,.....\"\"..-...--.....(\n",
+ " \"\"),-..,,,,.,---.-.....,,,,,-....:...,,,--(\"\",\"\"),\n",
+ " ,,,:.,-.....-(),.\"\",....-........-,.....-....-,-..\n",
+ " ..,,,,,..-....,,,,.,-\"\"-(..),,,,,,,\"\".-......,,,,-\n",
+ " ........--%-.-,.().,\".\"-(-)/-.-.-,..,,.--....-,,-.\n",
+ " ......,,-.,-,,\",\",,,,,,,,....,-\"\"..,,-,-,,,.,,.,,,\n",
+ " ,,,....-,().,..,.,......,'-',,.....,.....-,,,-,,-,\n",
+ " ,,,:()-,(),,-,()..--,,-..,-'-.,-.,://....()().'-.(\n",
+ " )()://./...'.'..,,.,.,,,()-,@..'://.:..@..-.($$,).\n",
+ " .,..://.,.,.....,.,:://./.-..-.,-.-,...,.:://..-,,\n",
+ " ,.\n"
+ ]
+ }
+ ],
+ "source": [
+ "compare(sherlock['punctuation'], pap['punctuation'])"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "markdown",
+ "metadata": {},
+ "source": [
+ "### Compare more than two texts at a time"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 53,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": true
+ },
+ "outputs": [],
+ "source": [
+ "def compare_many(*texts, offset=0, line_len=100, gap=' '):\n",
+ " def padded_segment(text, start, length):\n",
+ " segment = text[start:start+segment_len]\n",
+ " segment += (' ' * (segment_len - len(segment)))\n",
+ " return segment\n",
+ " segment_len = line_len // len(texts) - len(gap)\n",
+ " max_len = max(len(text) for text in texts)\n",
+ " for i in range(offset, max_len, line_len):\n",
+ " segments = [padded_segment(text, i, segment_len) for text in texts]\n",
+ " print(gap.join(segments))"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 55,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [
+ {
+ "name": "stdout",
+ "output_type": "stream",
+ "text": [
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+ " . \n"
+ ]
+ }
+ ],
+ "source": [
+ "compare_many(sherlock['punctuation'], pap['punctuation'], wap['punctuation'])"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 54,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [
+ {
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+ "output_type": "stream",
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+ " <> <> .,,.\"!,!'!'.,'.\",.,,.,,--,--.\n",
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+ " <> <> '....\",,,,.\"!\"..\",!\".\"'!!!.\"\"\n",
+ " <> <> \",'.\"\"?,....',,\"-,,\"'.\"\",....\n",
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+ " <> <> \".\"'.'.'\"\",,\",,..,.,,,,,.,,\"-\n",
+ " <> <> .()--.\",!??\".,,...,,.\".\",,,.'\n",
+ " <> <> .--',\".\"'?\"\"?\"--\"'.'!\"\"!...?\"\n",
+ " <> <> \",--,\".\"--!?,!,:''','!'.\"\"!\".\n",
+ " <> <> ,..,,:\",.\",,.,,-.,..-',.',,.'\n",
+ " <> <> .\".\",,...\".\"?...,?\",...\".,\",.\n",
+ " <> <> ?\".,.\",\",\"':''.'''.?\".\",!\",,:\n",
+ " <> <> \".,!!--!\".\"',\".\".!\",.\",'!\".\"-\n",
+ " <> <> ,,,.'.,,-,.,,.-'..,.,,..\"'.,\"\n",
+ " <> <> .\".'.\"\",?\".\"?,\",.\"'.,----?\"\",\n",
+ " <> <> .\"?,,!\",.,;.\"-,,,\".\"'..,!\"',,\n",
+ " <> <> *\".\".\",?\"*.*\",?\"\"',\",.\",'...\"\n",
+ " <> <> ,.\",?\".\"...?\",,,,,.,.,..\",,\".\n",
+ " <> <> .\",-.,','\",.\"!\",\"!,,!!\"\",!\"..\n",
+ " <> <> \",.\",!',\",.\"',?\".\",...--'?!'.\n",
+ " <> <> .\",'--.\"\",?\"\"?,'..!\",..\"?\".\",\n",
+ " <> <> ...\"-,-...\",,.,,...--.--,--,,\n",
+ " <> <> .:,.'.\"',;!\".\"','!\".,.,,;,,..\n",
+ " <> <> .,.,.,.\"!\"..,,.,,....,.,,.'.,\n",
+ " <> <> ,,...,,,.\"!\",.\"?\",----'.\"!\",,\n",
+ " <> <> '...'.',().,,,,.,,,,.,,.,--.,\n",
+ " <> <> ..-,-,..----;.,.,.,,,.,:\",,!!\n",
+ " <> <> .\",\"(),\".,..,,.,.,,,.:',?'--'\n",
+ " <> <> \",',.,'.,,?\",:\",?.','(),'.'.'\n",
+ " <> <> ..\"??\".,,..,,.,......,,.,--..\n",
+ " <> <> .\",\".\",\".\"?\"\",.,,,,.,.,?\".\",?\n",
+ " <> <> !!\",,.;,,..,,.,.,,,,.',.\"?\".\"\n",
+ " <> <> .,,,,,..,,,.:,,,;,,',,.,,,,,.\n",
+ " <> <> --,,.,,,,,.,,',,.,,,,.,'.,,.,\n",
+ " <> <> \"\".\"'!\"*,\"\"\".\",.,,\".\",(),',*(\n",
+ " <> <> (),,,,.(),.----?----,.,,,,.,,\n",
+ " <> <> .,'.,.,.,,.,..--,,,,,,,,--,,(\n",
+ " <> <> --..,,.;;,..,,.,,.,,.,,.\",\".\"\n",
+ " <> <> '--'.--.\"..\",\",\".,...!..,:,,.\n",
+ " <> <> --,,,,.',.\"??,,,\".'....\".....\n",
+ " <> <> !...'!\",,,,,.\"!...!...,,\",.,,\n",
+ " <> <> !...\"\",,!\",....',,,,.'.'.',.,\n",
+ " <> <> \",\",',\",'.?,!,.\",,,.....;'.;.\n",
+ " <> <> ..,,.',.,,,,.,,..,..,.'--.---\n",
+ " <> <> --,,-,--.-,,\"',\"--,,.,,,.,,,,\n",
+ " <> <> ?\":\",\".,,,:\",,\".----?.----.,,\n",
+ " <> <> ,,,'?.,',----.,--,.,,,----.,.\n",
+ " <> <> .\"!\",..\".!.\".\",!\".\",,'.!\",.\"-\n",
+ " <> <> \"'.',';,,'-,-.,,.',,..-.--.,,\n",
+ " <> <> ...\",.\",!!...?.\",,-,,,.\"...??\n",
+ " <> <> -,,,()--.,..----....\",!,??!\"-\n",
+ " <> <> ',\",.\"'.','!\"\",,\".\"',\".\",'...\n",
+ " <> <> .\",,.\"\"',,\";\"----,.\"\",?.\"\"',\"\n",
+ " <> <> ..\"\",\".\"';...'.\"\",,,,'.'!'.'.\n",
+ " <> <> \",.,.,.\"!\",\"!\".\"',\",.\".''.'..\n",
+ " <> <> .,,.:\",,,!!,,,\".,.,,'.,,..\",,\n",
+ " <> <> !\"\"...\",:\"---,\",,\"-------,---\n",
+ " <> <> ,....,,,-----,....,,.----';.,\n",
+ " <> <> '.'.,----'----',,,..;.---\"\"..\n",
+ " <> <> \",'.'-,,.,,.;,..,,,,,,,.,,,.,\n",
+ " <> <> .,,--,--,'.,,,,.,,'..,,..,,.,\n",
+ " <> <> ,,.\",,!\":\",??\":\",.,!\",----.--\n",
+ " <> <> .\"..-.,.,,.,.,,,.,,;.,',----.\n",
+ " <> <> ,,,,.\",,\".\",,.\".',,.,.,,,.,,.\n",
+ " <> <> .,.,,,,.,.',.'..,',.',,.\",',\"\n",
+ " <> <> .:,.,-,.,,.',,.,,...,,.,.,,,.\n",
+ " <> <> ,.,.,,.,.----:???--:\",,\",\",\".\n",
+ " <> <> ..\",.\"--!\".\"......!\".',,,,,,.\n",
+ " <> <> ;,:.'',.\",\".\".;..\"\",?\",.\"..!\"\n",
+ " <> <> \",,...?\".\",...?----.----.?...\n",
+ " <> <> ,\".,,,...',',,,.,.\",','..,.\":\n",
+ " <> <> \"\".!\"\",'?\",,,.\",\",.\".,\",,\".,'\n",
+ " <> <> ,.........\".\"--,--,.\"\"';...\",\n",
+ " <> <> '.\",\",\":',?''!,..,.,\",.\",,\",.\n",
+ " <> <> ....?\",.\"?,.!\".\",...\",\",,--;?\n",
+ " <> <> .\",,\"..,.\",???\",.\",,,\".\"?.,,\"\n",
+ " <> <> \",,:\",!.?\".\",.\",,--\"?!\".\"?\".\"\n",
+ " <> <> :\",!'!\"'.\";.\".,..'.,.,.,,.',.\n",
+ " <> <> ...\".\",\"-.\"',,.,.......,?,!\",\n",
+ " <> <> ..\"\",!!'....!,'!\"'.\",.,\".\"??,\n",
+ " <> <> ?!\".'.,:\",?\",\"''?\",,,..:\"'?'?\n",
+ " <> <> \".,,....\"',,\"\";,.',:\",,--,\",,\n",
+ " <> <> .\"\"?\"\",\".\"?,\",'.\"'--.!\"\",..\".\n",
+ " <> <> ..\",.?(,,)--,,--(,,)??,;:,,-;\n",
+ " <> <> ,,--.,.,.,.,.?!\";,\".??..;;.;.\n",
+ " <> <> ,,-.,',-.-..:,..----...-.;.',\n",
+ " <> <> '--,.(),,.;,----,,,,.,,,,,...\n",
+ " <> <> ,..,,..;;..--.:.,.,....:.,,..\n",
+ " <> <> .,'.,,,.,,.,,...',,.,,'.:,,',\n",
+ " <> <> -.;,.--.,,-.,;,,,,.'.--,.,,,.\n",
+ " <> <> .',.'.\"'?,\".\"??'!\"',,'.\",,?\",\n",
+ " <> <> \"'..\",,,'.,.,.\",\",.\",.\";.,.,.\n",
+ " <> <> ,,\",\"',!,...'.\"..\",,\",\",.,,-.\n",
+ " <> <> ,\".\",....,'....,...\",,,.\",,?\"\n",
+ " <> <> .'.,,,,,,,--.,.,.,,,,.',,,,,.\n",
+ " <> <> ,,,,,:\",'.\",,;,,,.,.,,,:\";'!'\n",
+ " <> <> \".,.\",,?\".,,..\",...,...!\"..,,\n",
+ " <> <> .,.,,.---,,..,.,,,.,--,.,,'..\n",
+ " <> <> .,,,..''.,,,.,,,,,..,,.'.,.,'\n",
+ " <> <> ',\".:\",'.\",,;.,,,',.\",,\"(),\".\n",
+ " <> <> ,.,,,..:\"!'!\".,,..,:\"''....,?\n",
+ " <> <> .\"!\",.\"',\",'.\",,....\"\",'.!\".\"\n",
+ " <> <> \",.\"..:'!',','.',\".\",.\",,,,,.\n",
+ " <> <> ,,.-.,.,,..,,,,(,'),,.,.,,,,,\n",
+ " <> <> ,,,,.,,,,,.',,;,.,,,,,.,',;.,\n",
+ " <> <> ,,.,,',',',.,..,,',,.,,,--,--\n",
+ " <> <> .,,.,..',----.\"?\",.\"',',\".',.\n",
+ " <> <> ..?.....'..,...\",;;..,.\",.?\"\"\n",
+ " <> <> ,\",,\"''.\"\"'',\",.\".,!\"\"',\",,\".\n",
+ " <> <> (),,,(),(),'--.,,,,,,.,...-,,\n",
+ " <> <> .\"!,\",,.\":,\".\"?\".\"?.,'.\"'.,-,\n",
+ " <> <> ,'.---.,.,,,.,'-,.',.,,,.:,,,\n",
+ " <> <> \"!\".,,,,--,:----,--,',.,,.-..\n",
+ " <> <> \",.\"\",\",\"!!.\"\",?.',\";,:\".!,?\"\n",
+ " <> <> '...,--!,!...\",:\"!\"'.\",!\".,,,\n",
+ " <> <> ,,-,.,.,,,.\"--,'.,--'!'!\".,',\n",
+ " <> <> ().\",*----,,....,,\".*.\",?\".\",\n",
+ " <> <> \"?\"\",..,--.,..\"\",'.\"\"?\"()\"?:,\n",
+ " <> <> ,,.\"'.:'.,:',,----.,,.'!\".,..\n",
+ " <> <> \",?\"...,.\",,\",,.\"?\",...()..,.\n",
+ " <> <> -.:!''....?...\"\",,\".\".\"\",,,\",\n",
+ " <> <> \".\".:..\"\",'.,.,!,--,!.,!\",.\",\n",
+ " <> <> ,..'',,;.,,.,--,,,,.',,,.,..\"\n",
+ " <> <> \",\".\"!.,,...\"\",\".':--.\".,\",.\"\n",
+ " <> <> --.'.\"',.\"??\".\"?\",..\"?\".\".,?\"\n",
+ " <> <> \",!,.!?..--'!\"\",\".\"...\"\"'!'!\"\n",
+ " <> <> \"\".\"\"?\"\"?.\"\"?\"\",,\",.\":,,,.'.!\n",
+ " <> <> ',..,,!\".\"?\"'.\",\",.\"!\".\"!,!?,\n",
+ " <> <> ,,,,).,:,,;,,.;,,..,,,,,,,.--\n",
+ " <> <> '.,,,,,.,,.,,.(,).,,,,..,,..,\n",
+ " <> <> ,,'.'.,.,,.,,,,.,.,,,.,,,,,,'\n",
+ " <> <> \",,,,,.-------.--.,,,?,.,,',,\n",
+ " <> <> ...,,.,,.,;,....,.,;,;,.,,,,,\n",
+ " <> <> .--,;,,,.,,,,,,.,--.,'.,,.,,;\n",
+ " <> <> -,,,:,..,,.,.,',,,,.'----.,,,\n",
+ " <> <> ,;',-\"\",','.,,,'.:,,,,,.,:,,,\n",
+ " <> <> ,.,.,,,.\".\"--'.\",,.\".(,,,',,,\n",
+ " <> <> ,.,,,,.,:():,().,,,,,';.,,.,;\n",
+ " <> <> ,,..----;--,-,.,;,,--.,,.,,,,\n",
+ " <> <> ,,...:'..--,,?,,,,,?,,,?,,.,.\n",
+ " <> <> .,,,.,..,,,:.',,...,,,.,,,'.,\n",
+ " <> <> ,,,().,,,.,',,.,,,,,,,,,..,,.\n",
+ " <> <> ',,,,,.,,,,,,,,,.,,'.,.'.,,,.\n",
+ " <> <> ,,.,--,,,--..'.,,'.,..,.,,--,\n",
+ " <> <> ,,',.,,,--,,..,,.,,'.,,,.,,,.\n",
+ " <> <> ,,..(),,.,.(),,,.(),,.,,,--,,\n",
+ " <> <> .,.,,.,.;,,,,,.,,(,'),,,(,)..\n",
+ " <> <> ,,.,,,,,.-----..,,,,,.,,,,,..\n",
+ " <> <> --.',,,'.:\",,(),\":\",,,,,.\";,.\n",
+ " <> <> ),-(://./)..-..-,,,(/).,-.-,.\n",
+ " <> <> ,,:.,-.....-(),.\"\",....-.....\n",
+ " <> <> .......--%-.-,.().,\".\"-(-)/-.\n",
+ " <> <> ,,....-,().,..,.,......,'-',,\n",
+ " <> <> ()://./...'.'..,,.,.,,,()-,@.\n",
+ " <> <> . \n"
+ ]
+ }
+ ],
+ "source": [
+ "compare_many(sherlock['punctuation'], pap['punctuation'], wap['punctuation'], gap=' <> ')"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "markdown",
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": true
+ },
+ "source": [
+ "## Making images\n",
+ "The text versions are fine, but let's turn the punctuation into images, with a coloured square for each punctuation character."
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "markdown",
+ "metadata": {},
+ "source": [
+ "Start with just trying to get something out"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 56,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [],
+ "source": [
+ "# Periods and question marks and exclamation marks are red. \n",
+ "# Commas and quotation marks are -green- blue. \n",
+ "# Semicolons and colons are -blue- green. \n",
+ "colours = {'.': (255, 0, 0), '?': (255, 0, 0), '!': (255, 0, 0),\n",
+ " ',': (0, 255, 0), '\"': (0, 255, 0), \"'\": (0, 255, 0),\n",
+ " ':': (0, 0, 255), ';': (0, 0, 255),\n",
+ " 'unknown': (128, 128, 128)}\n",
+ "max_x = 1000\n",
+ "max_y = 1000\n",
+ "block_size = 4\n",
+ "text = sherlock['punctuation']\n",
+ "img = Image.new('RGBA', (max_x, max_y))\n",
+ "draw = ImageDraw.Draw(img)\n",
+ "x = 0\n",
+ "y = 0\n",
+ "i = 0\n",
+ "# for i in range(100):\n",
+ "# if text[i] in colours:\n",
+ "# this_colour = colours[text[i]]\n",
+ "for p in text:\n",
+ " if p in colours:\n",
+ " this_colour = colours[p]\n",
+ " else:\n",
+ " this_colour = colours['unknown']\n",
+ " draw.rectangle((x, y, x+block_size, y+block_size), fill=this_colour)\n",
+ " x += block_size\n",
+ " if x >= max_x:\n",
+ " x = 0\n",
+ " y += block_size\n",
+ "img.save('test.png')"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "markdown",
+ "metadata": {},
+ "source": [
+ "The image: \n",
+ "\n"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 58,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [],
+ "source": [
+ "# Periods and question marks and exclamation marks are red. \n",
+ "# Commas and quotation marks are -green- blue. \n",
+ "# Semicolons and colons are -blue- green. \n",
+ "def make_image(text, block_size=4, width=1000, colours=None):\n",
+ " default_colours = {'.': (255, 0, 0), '?': (255, 0, 0), '!': (255, 0, 0),\n",
+ " ',': (0, 0, 255), '\"': (0, 0, 255), \"'\": (0, 0, 255),\n",
+ " ':': (0, 255, 0), ';': (0, 255, 0),\n",
+ " 'unknown': (128, 128, 128)}\n",
+ " if not colours:\n",
+ " colours = {}\n",
+ " use_colours = default_colours.copy()\n",
+ " use_colours.update(colours)\n",
+ " height = ceil((len(text) * block_size) / width)\n",
+ " img = Image.new('RGBA', (width, height))\n",
+ " draw = ImageDraw.Draw(img)\n",
+ " x = 0\n",
+ " y = 0\n",
+ " for p in text:\n",
+ " if p in use_colours:\n",
+ " this_colour = use_colours[p]\n",
+ " else:\n",
+ " this_colour = use_colours['unknown']\n",
+ " draw.rectangle((x, y, x+block_size, y+block_size), fill=this_colour)\n",
+ " x += block_size\n",
+ " if x >= width:\n",
+ " x = 0\n",
+ " y += block_size\n",
+ " return img"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 59,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [],
+ "source": [
+ "i = make_image(sherlock['punctuation'])\n",
+ "i.save('sherlock.png')"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 60,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": true
+ },
+ "outputs": [],
+ "source": [
+ "i = make_image(wap['punctuation'], block_size=6, colours={'-': (255,255,255)})\n",
+ "i.save('wap.png')"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 61,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": false
+ },
+ "outputs": [],
+ "source": [
+ "i = make_image(wap['punctuation'], colours={'-': (255,255,255)})\n",
+ "i.save('wap.png')"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 62,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": true
+ },
+ "outputs": [],
+ "source": [
+ "i = make_image(shakespeare['punctuation'])\n",
+ "i.save('shakespeare.png')"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 63,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": true
+ },
+ "outputs": [],
+ "source": [
+ "i = make_image(ulysses['punctuation'])\n",
+ "i.save('ulysses.png')"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": 64,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": true
+ },
+ "outputs": [],
+ "source": [
+ "i = make_image(pap['punctuation'])\n",
+ "i.save('pap.png')"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "markdown",
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": true
+ },
+ "source": [
+ "Sherlock: \n",
+ "\n",
+ "\n",
+ "War and Peace:\n",
+ "\n",
+ "\n",
+ "Shakespeare:\n",
+ "\n",
+ "\n",
+ "Ulysses:\n",
+ "\n",
+ "\n",
+ "Pride and Prejudice:\n",
+ ""
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": null,
+ "metadata": {
+ "collapsed": true
+ },
+ "outputs": [],
+ "source": []
+ }
+ ],
+ "metadata": {
+ "kernelspec": {
+ "display_name": "Python 3",
+ "language": "python",
+ "name": "python3"
+ },
+ "language_info": {
+ "codemirror_mode": {
+ "name": "ipython",
+ "version": 3
+ },
+ "file_extension": ".py",
+ "mimetype": "text/x-python",
+ "name": "python",
+ "nbconvert_exporter": "python",
+ "pygments_lexer": "ipython3",
+ "version": "3.4.3+"
+ }
+ },
+ "nbformat": 4,
+ "nbformat_minor": 0
+}
--- /dev/null
+A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM
+
+Now , fair Hippolyta , our nuptial hour
+Draws on apace : four happy days bring in
+Another moon ; but O ! methinks how slow
+This old moon wanes ; she lingers my desires ,
+Like to a step dame , or a dowager
+Long withering out a young man's revenue .
+
+Four days will quickly steep themselves in night ;
+Four nights will quickly dream away the time ;
+And then the moon , like to a silver bow
+New-bent in heaven , shall behold the night
+Of our solemnities .
+
+Go , Philostrate ,
+Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments ;
+Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth ;
+Turn melancholy forth to funerals ;
+The pale companion is not for our pomp .
+
+Hippolyta , I woo'd thee with my sword ,
+And won thy love doing thee injuries ;
+But I will wed thee in another key ,
+With pomp , with triumph , and with revelling .
+
+
+Happy be Theseus , our renowned duke !
+
+Thanks , good Egeus : what's the news with thee ?
+
+Full of vexation come I , with complaint
+Against my child , my daughter Hermia .
+Stand forth , Demetrius . My noble lord ,
+This man hath my consent to marry her .
+Stand forth , Lysander : and , my gracious duke ,
+This man hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child :
+Thou , thou , Lysander , thou hast given her rimes ,
+And interchang'd love-tokens with my child ;
+Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung ,
+With feigning voice , verses of feigning love ;
+And stol'n the impression of her fantasy
+With bracelets of thy hair , rings , gawds , conceits ,
+Knacks , trifles , nosegays , sweetmeats , messengers
+Of strong prevailment in unharden'd youth ;
+With cunning hast thou filch'd my daughter's heart ;
+Turn'd her obedience , which is due to me ,
+To stubborn harshness . And , my gracious duke ,
+Be it so she will not here before your Grace
+Consent to marry with Demetrius ,
+I beg the ancient privilege of Athens ,
+As she is mine , I may dispose of her ;
+Which shall be either to this gentleman ,
+Or to her death , according to our law
+Immediately provided in that case .
+
+What say you , Hermia ? be advis'd , fair maid .
+To you , your father should be as a god ;
+One that compos'd your beauties , yea , and one
+To whom you are but as a form in wax
+By him imprinted , and within his power
+To leave the figure or disfigure it .
+Demetrius is a worthy gentleman .
+
+So is Lysander .
+
+In himself he is ;
+But , in this kind , wanting your father's voice ,
+The other must be held the worthier .
+
+I would my father look'd but with my eyes .
+
+Rather your eyes must with his judgment look .
+
+I do entreat your Grace to pardon me .
+I know not by what power I am made bold ,
+Nor how it may concern my modesty
+In such a presence here to plead my thoughts ;
+But I beseech your Grace , that I may know
+The worst that may befall me in this case ,
+If I refuse to wed Demetrius .
+
+Either to die the death , or to abjure
+For ever the society of men .
+Therefore , fair Hermia , question your desires ;
+Know of your youth , examine well your blood ,
+Whe'r , if you yield not to your father's choice ,
+You can endure the livery of a nun ,
+For aye to be in shady cloister mew'd ,
+To live a barren sister all your life ,
+Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon .
+Thrice blessed they that master so their blood ,
+To undergo such maiden pilgrimage ;
+But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd ,
+Than that which withering on the virgin thorn
+Grows , lives , and dies , in single blessedness .
+
+So will I grow , so live , so die , my lord ,
+Ere I will yield my virgin patent up
+Unto his lordship , whose unwished yoke
+My soul consents not to give sovereignty .
+
+Take time to pause ; and , by the next new moon ,
+The sealing-day betwixt my love and me
+For everlasting bond of fellowship ,
+Upon that day either prepare to die
+For disobedience to your father's will ,
+Or else to wed Demetrius , as he would ;
+Or on Diana's altar to protest
+For aye austerity and single life .
+
+Relent , sweet Hermia ; and , Lysander , yield
+Thy crazed title to my certain right .
+
+You have her father's love , Demetrius ;
+Let me have Hermia's : do you marry him .
+
+Scornful Lysander ! true , he hath my love ,
+And what is mine my love shall render him ;
+And she is mine , and all my right of her
+I do estate unto Demetrius .
+
+I am , my lord , as well deriv'd as he ,
+As well possess'd ; my love is more than his ;
+My fortunes every way as fairly rank'd
+If not with vantage , as Demetrius' ;
+And , which is more than all these boasts can be ,
+I am belov'd of beauteous Hermia .
+Why should not I then prosecute my right ?
+Demetrius , I'll avouch it to his head ,
+Made love to Nedar's daughter , Helena ,
+And won her soul ; and she , sweet lady , dotes ,
+Devoutly dotes , dotes in idolatry ,
+Upon this spotted and inconstant man .
+
+I must confess that I have heard so much ,
+And with Demetrius thought to have spoke thereof ;
+But , being over-full of self-affairs ,
+My mind did lose it . But , Demetrius , come ;
+And come , Egeus ; you shall go with me ,
+I have some private schooling for you both .
+For you , fair Hermia , look you arm yourself
+To fit your fancies to your father's will ,
+Or else the law of Athens yields you up ,
+Which by no means we may extenuate ,
+To death , or to a vow of single life .
+Come , my Hippolyta : what cheer , my love ?
+Demetrius and Egeus , go along :
+I must employ you in some business
+Against our nuptial , and confer with you
+Of something nearly that concerns yourselves .
+
+With duty and desire we follow you .
+
+
+How now , my love ! Why is your cheek so pale ?
+How chance the roses there do fade so fast ?
+
+Belike for want of rain , which I could well
+Beteem them from the tempest of mine eyes .
+
+Ay me ! for aught that ever I could read ,
+Could ever hear by tale or history ,
+The course of true love never did run smooth ;
+But , either it was different in blood ,
+
+O cross ! too high to be enthrall'd to low .
+
+Or else misgraffed in respect of years ,
+
+O spite ! too old to be engag'd to young .
+
+Or else it stood upon the choice of friends ,
+
+O hell ! to choose love by another's eye .
+
+Or , if there were a sympathy in choice ,
+War , death , or sickness did lay siege to it ,
+Making it momentany as a sound ,
+Swift as a shadow , short as any dream ,
+Brief as the lightning in the collied night ,
+That , in a spleen , unfolds both heaven and earth ,
+And ere a man hath power to say , 'Behold !'
+The jaws of darkness do devour it up :
+So quick bright things come to confusion .
+
+If then true lovers have been ever cross'd ,
+It stands as an edict in destiny :
+Then let us teach our trial patience ,
+Because it is a customary cross ,
+As due to love as thoughts and dreams and sighs ,
+Wishes and tears , poor fancy's followers .
+
+A good persuasion : therefore , hear me , Hermia .
+I have a widow aunt , a dowager
+Of great revenue , and she hath no child :
+From Athens is her house remote seven leagues ;
+And she respects me as her only son .
+There , gentle Hermia , may I marry thee ,
+And to that place the sharp Athenian law
+Cannot pursue us . If thou lov'st me then ,
+Steal forth thy father's house to-morrow night ,
+And in the wood , a league without the town ,
+Where I did meet thee once with Helena ,
+To do observance to a morn of May ,
+There will I stay for thee .
+
+My good Lysander !
+I swear to thee by Cupid's strongest bow ,
+By his best arrow with the golden head ,
+By the simplicity of Venus' doves ,
+By that which knitteth souls and prospers loves ,
+And by that fire which burn'd the Carthage queen ,
+When the false Troyan under sail was seen ,
+By all the vows that ever men have broke ,
+In number more than ever women spoke ,
+In that same place thou hast appointed me ,
+To-morrow truly will I meet with thee .
+
+Keep promise , love . Look , here comes Helena .
+
+
+God speed fair Helena ! Whither away ?
+
+Call you me fair ? that fair again unsay .
+Demetrius loves your fair : O happy fair !
+Your eyes are lode-stars ! and your tongue's sweet air
+More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear ,
+When wheat is green , when hawthorn buds appear .
+Sickness is catching : O ! were favour so ,
+Yours would I catch , fair Hermia , ere I go ;
+My ear should catch your voice , my eye your eye ,
+My tongue should catch your tongue's sweet melody .
+Were the world mine , Demetrius being bated ,
+The rest I'd give to be to you translated .
+O ! teach me how you look , and with what art
+You sway the motion of Demetrius' heart .
+
+I frown upon him , yet he loves me still .
+
+O ! that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill .
+
+I give him curses , yet he gives me love .
+
+O ! that my prayers could such affection move .
+
+The more I hate , the more he follows me .
+
+The more I love , the more he hateth me .
+
+His folly , Helena , is no fault of mine .
+
+None , but your beauty : would that fault were mine !
+
+Take comfort : he no more shall see my face ;
+Lysander and myself will fly this place .
+Before the time I did Lysander see ,
+Seem'd Athens as a paradise to me :
+O ! then , what graces in my love do dwell ,
+That he hath turn'd a heaven unto a hell .
+
+Helen , to you our minds we will unfold .
+To-morrow night , when Ph be doth behold
+Her silver visage in the wat'ry glass ,
+Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass ,
+A time that lovers' flights doth still conceal ,
+Through Athens' gates have we devis'd to steal .
+
+And in the wood , where often you and I
+Upon faint primrose-beds were wont to lie ,
+Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet ,
+There my Lysander and myself shall meet ;
+And thence from Athens turn away our eyes ,
+To seek new friends and stranger companies .
+Farewell , sweet playfellow : pray thou for us ;
+And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius !
+Keep word , Lysander : we must starve our sight
+From lovers' food till morrow deep midnight .
+
+I will , my Hermia .
+
+Helena , adieu :
+As you on him , Demetrius dote on you !
+
+
+How happy some o'er other some can be !
+Through Athens I am thought as fair as she ;
+But what of that ? Demetrius thinks not so ;
+He will not know what all but he do know ;
+And as he errs , doting on Hermia's eyes ,
+So I , admiring of his qualities .
+Things base and vile , holding no quantity ,
+Love can transpose to form and dignity .
+Love looks not with the eyes , but with the mind ,
+And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind .
+Nor hath Love's mind of any judgment taste ;
+Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste :
+And therefore is Love said to be a child ,
+Because in choice he is so oft beguil'd .
+As waggish boys in game themselves forswear ,
+So the boy Love is perjur'd every where ;
+For ere Demetrius look'd on Hermia's eyne ,
+He hail'd down oaths that he was only mine ;
+And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt ,
+So he dissolv'd , and showers of oaths did melt .
+I will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight :
+Then to the wood will he to-morrow night
+Pursue her ; and for this intelligence
+If I have thanks , it is a dear expense :
+But herein mean I to enrich my pain ,
+To have his sight thither and back again .
+
+
+Is all our company here ?
+
+You were best to call them generally , man by man , according to the scrip .
+
+Here is the scroll of every man's name , which is thought fit , through all Athens , to play in our interlude before the duke and the duchess on his wedding-day at night .
+
+First , good Peter Quince , say what the play treats on ; then read the names of the actors , and so grow to a point .
+
+Marry , our play is , The most lamentable comedy , and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby .
+
+A very good piece of work , I assure you , and a merry . Now , good Peter Quince , call forth your actors by the scroll . Masters , spread yourselves .
+
+Answer as I call you . Nick Bottom , the weaver .
+
+Ready . Name what part I am for , and proceed .
+
+You , Nick Bottom , are set down for Pyramus .
+
+What is Pyramus ? a lover , or a tyrant ?
+
+A lover , that kills himself most gallantly for love .
+
+That will ask some tears in the true performing of it : if I do it , let the audience look to their eyes ; I will move storms , I will condole in some measure . To the rest : yet my chief humour is for a tyrant . I could play Ercles rarely , or a part to tear a cat in , to make all split .
+
+The raging rocks
+And shivering shocks
+Shall break the locks
+Of prison gates :
+And Phibbus' car
+Shall shine from far
+And make and mar
+The foolish Fates .
+
+This was lofty ! Now name the rest of the players . This is Ercles' vein , a tyrant's vein ; a lover is more condoling .
+
+Francis Flute , the bellows-mender .
+
+Here , Peter Quince .
+
+You must take Thisby on you .
+
+What is Thisby ? a wandering knight ?
+
+It is the lady that Pyramus must love .
+
+Nay , faith , let not me play a woman ; I have a beard coming .
+
+That's all one : you shall play it in a mask , and you may speak as small as you will .
+
+An I may hide my face , let me play Thisby too . I'll speak in a monstrous little voice , 'Thisne , Thisne !' 'Ah , Pyramus , my lover dear ; thy Thisby dear , and lady dear !'
+
+No , no ; you must play Pyramus ; and Flute , you Thisby .
+
+Well , proceed .
+
+Robin Starveling , the tailor .
+
+Here , Peter Quince .
+
+Robin Starveling , you must play Thisby's mother . Tom Snout , the tinker .
+
+Here , Peter Quince .
+
+You , Pyramus's father ; myself , Thisby's father ; Snug , the joiner , you the lion's part : and , I hope , here is a play fitted .
+
+Have you the lion's part written ? pray you , if it be , give it me , for I am slow of study .
+
+You may do it extempore , for it is nothing but roaring .
+
+Let me play the lion too . I will roar , that I will do any man's heart good to hear me ; I will roar , that I will make the duke say , 'Let him roar again , let him roar again .'
+
+An you should do it too terribly , you would fright the duchess and the ladies , that they would shriek ; and that were enough to hang us all .
+
+That would hang us , every mother's son .
+
+I grant you , friends , if that you should fright the ladies out of their wits , they would have no more discretion but to hang us ; but I will aggravate my voice so that I will roar you as gently as any sucking dove ; I will roar you as 'twere any nightingale .
+
+You can play no part but Pyramus ; for Pyramus is a sweet-faced man ; a proper man , as one shall see in a summer's day ; a most lovely , gentleman-like man ; therefore , you must needs play Pyramus .
+
+Well , I will undertake it . What beard were I best to play it in ?
+
+Why , what you will .
+
+I will discharge it in either your straw-colour beard , your orange-tawny beard , your purple-in-grain beard , or your French-crown colour beard , your perfect yellow .
+
+Some of your French crowns have no hair at all , and then you will play bare-faced . But masters , here are your parts ; and I am to entreat you , request you , and desire you , to con them by to-morrow night , and meet me in the palace wood , a mile without the town , by moonlight : there will we rehearse ; for if we meet in the city , we shall be dogged with company , and our devices known . In the meantime I will draw a bill of properties , such as our play wants . I pray you , fail me not .
+
+We will meet ; and there we may rehearse more obscenely and courageously . Take pains ; be perfect ; adieu .
+
+At the duke's oak we meet .
+
+Enough ; hold , or cut bow-strings .
+
+How now , spirit ! whither wander you ?
+
+
+Over hill , over dale ,
+Thorough bush , thorough brier ,
+Over park , over pale ,
+Thorough flood , thorough fire ,
+I do wander every where ,
+Swifter than the moone's sphere ;
+And I serve the fairy queen ,
+To dew her orbs upon the green :
+The cowslips tall her pensioners be ;
+In their gold coats spots you see ;
+Those be rubies , fairy favours ,
+In their freckles live their savours :
+
+I must go seek some dew-drops here ,
+And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear .
+Farewell , thou lob of spirits : I'll be gone ;
+Our queen and all her elves come here anon .
+
+The king doth keep his revels here to-night .
+Take heed the queen come not within his sight ;
+For Oberon is passing fell and wrath ,
+Because that she as her attendant hath
+A lovely boy , stol'n from an Indian king ;
+She never had so sweet a changeling ;
+And jealous Oberon would have the child
+Knight of his train , to trace the forests wild ;
+But she , perforce , withholds the loved boy ,
+Crowns him with flowers , and makes him all her joy .
+And now they never meet in grove , or green ,
+By fountain clear , or spangled starlight sheen ,
+But they do square ; that all their elves , for fear ,
+Creep into acorn-cups and hide them there .
+
+Either I mistake your shape and making quite ,
+Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite
+Call'd Robin Goodfellow : are you not he
+That frights the maidens of the villagery ;
+Skim milk , and sometimes labour in the quern ,
+And bootless make the breathless housewife churn ;
+And sometime make the drink to bear no barm ;
+Mislead night-wanderers , laughing at their harm ?
+Those that Hobgoblin call you and sweet Puck ,
+You do their work , and they shall have good luck :
+Are you not he ?
+
+Fairy , thou speak'st aright ;
+I am that merry wanderer of the night .
+I jest to Oberon , and make him smile
+When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile ,
+Neighing in likeness of a filly foal :
+And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl ,
+In very likeness of a roasted crab ;
+And , when she drinks , against her lips I bob
+And on her wither'd dewlap pour the ale .
+The wisest aunt , telling the saddest tale ,
+Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me ;
+Then slip I from her bum , down topples she ,
+And 'tailor' cries , and falls into a cough ;
+And then the whole quire hold their hips and loff ;
+And waxen in their mirth , and neeze , and swear
+A merrier hour was never wasted there .
+But , room , fairy ! here comes Oberon .
+
+And here my mistress . Would that he were gone !
+
+
+Ill met by moonlight , proud Titania .
+
+What ! jealous Oberon . Fairies , skip hence :
+I have forsworn his bed and company .
+
+Tarry , rash wanton ! am not I thy lord ?
+
+Then , I must be thy lady ; but I know
+When thou hast stol'n away from fairy land ,
+And in the shape of Corin sat all day ,
+Playing on pipes of corn , and versing love
+To amorous Phillida . Why art thou here ,
+Come from the furthest steppe of India ?
+But that , forsooth , the bouncing Amazon ,
+Your buskin'd mistress and your warrior love ,
+To Theseus must be wedded , and you come
+To give their bed joy and prosperity .
+
+How canst thou thus for shame , Titania ,
+Glance at my credit with Hippolyta ,
+Knowing I know thy love to Theseus ?
+Didst thou not lead him through the glimmering night
+From Perigouna , whom he ravished ?
+And make him with fair gle break his faith ,
+With Ariadne , and Antiopa ?
+
+These are the forgeries of jealousy :
+And never , since the middle summer's spring ,
+Met we on hill , in dale , forest , or mead ,
+By paved fountain , or by rushy brook ,
+Or in the beached margent of the sea ,
+To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind ,
+But with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport .
+Therefore the winds , piping to us in vain ,
+As in revenge , have suck'd up from the sea
+Contagious fogs ; which , falling in the land ,
+Have every pelting river made so proud
+That they have overborne their continents :
+The ox hath therefore stretch'd his yoke in vain ,
+The ploughman lost his sweat , and the green corn
+Hath rotted ere his youth attain'd a beard :
+The fold stands empty in the drowned field ,
+And crows are fatted with the murrion flock ;
+The nine men's morris is fill'd up with mud ,
+And the quaint mazes in the wanton green
+For lack of tread are undistinguishable :
+The human mortals want their winter here :
+No night is now with hymn or carol blest :
+Therefore the moon , the governess of floods ,
+Pale in her anger , washes all the air ,
+That rheumatic diseases do abound :
+And thorough this distemperature we see
+The seasons alter : hoary-headed frosts
+Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose ,
+And on old Hiems' thin and icy crown
+An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds
+Is , as in mockery , set . The spring , the summer ,
+The childing autumn , angry winter , change
+Their wonted liveries , and the mazed world ,
+By their increase , now knows not which is which .
+And this same progeny of evil comes
+From our debate , from our dissension :
+We are their parents and original .
+
+Do you amend it then ; it lies in you .
+Why should Titania cross her Oberon ?
+I do but beg a little changeling boy ,
+To be my henchman .
+
+Set your heart at rest ;
+The fairy land buys not the child of me .
+His mother was a votaress of my order :
+And , in the spiced Indian air , by night ,
+Full often hath she gossip'd by my side ,
+And sat with me on Neptune's yellow sands ,
+Marking the embarked traders on the flood ;
+When we have laugh'd to see the sails conceive
+And grow big-bellied with the wanton wind ;
+Which she , with pretty and with swimming gait
+Following ,her womb then rich with my young squire ,
+Would imitate , and sail upon the land ,
+To fetch me trifles , and return again ,
+As from a voyage , rich with merchandise .
+But she , being mortal , of that boy did die ;
+And for her sake I do rear up her boy ,
+And for her sake I will not part with him .
+
+How long within this wood intend you stay ?
+
+Perchance , till after Theseus' weddingday .
+If you will patiently dance in our round ,
+And see our moonlight revels , go with us ;
+If not , shun me , and I will spare your haunts .
+
+Give me that boy , and I will go with thee .
+
+Not for thy fairy kingdom . Fairies , away !
+We shall chide downright , if I longer stay .
+
+
+Well , go thy way : thou shalt not from this grove
+Till I torment thee for this injury .
+My gentle Puck , come hither . Thou remember'st
+Since once I sat upon a promontory ,
+And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's back
+Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath ,
+That the rude sea grew civil at her song ,
+And certain stars shot madly from their spheres
+To hear the sea-maid's music .
+
+I remember .
+
+That very time I saw , but thou couldst not ,
+Flying between the cold moon and the earth ,
+Cupid all arm'd : a certain aim he took
+At a fair vestal throned by the west ,
+And loos'd his love-shaft smartly from his bow ,
+As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts ;
+But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft
+Quench'd in the chaste beams of the wat'ry moon ,
+And the imperial votaress passed on ,
+In maiden meditation , fancy-free .
+Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell :
+It fell upon a little western flower ,
+Before milk-white , now purple with love's wound ,
+And maidens call it , Love-in-idleness .
+Fetch me that flower ; the herb I show'd thee once :
+The juice of it on sleeping eyelids laid
+Will make or man or woman madly dote
+Upon the next live creature that it sees .
+Fetch me this herb ; and be thou here again
+Ere the leviathan can swim a league .
+
+I'll put a girdle round about the earth
+In forty minutes .
+
+
+Having once this juice
+I'll watch Titania when she is asleep ,
+And drop the liquor of it in her eyes :
+The next thing then she waking looks upon ,
+Be it on lion , bear , or wolf , or bull ,
+On meddling monkey , or on busy ape ,
+She shall pursue it with the soul of love :
+And ere I take this charm off from her sight ,
+As I can take it with another herb ,
+I'll make her render up her page to me .
+But who comes here ? I am invisible ,
+And I will overhear their conference .
+
+
+I love thee not , therefore pursue me not .
+Where is Lysander and fair Hermia ?
+The one I'll slay , the other slayeth me .
+Thou told'st me they were stol'n into this wood ;
+And here am I , and wood within this wood ,
+Because I cannot meet my Hermia .
+Hence ! get thee gone , and follow me no more .
+
+You draw me , you hard-hearted adamant :
+But yet you draw not iron , for my heart
+Is true as steel : leave you your power to draw ,
+And I shall have no power to follow you .
+
+Do I entice you ? Do I speak you fair ?
+Or , rather , do I not in plainest truth
+Tell you I do not nor I cannot love you ?
+
+And even for that do I love you the more .
+I am your spaniel ; and , Demetrius ,
+The more you beat me , I will fawn on you :
+Use me but as your spaniel , spurn me , strike me ,
+Neglect me , lose me ; only give me leave ,
+Unworthy as I am , to follow you .
+What worser place can I beg in your love ,
+And yet a place of high respect with me ,
+Than to be used as you use your dog ?
+
+Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit ,
+For I am sick when I do look on you .
+
+And I am sick when I look not on you .
+
+You do impeach your modesty too much ,
+To leave the city , and commit yourself
+Into the hands of one that loves you not ;
+To trust the opportunity of night
+And the ill counsel of a desert place
+With the rich worth of your virginity .
+
+Your virtue is my privilege : for that
+It is not night when I do see your face ,
+Therefore I think I am not in the night ;
+Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company ,
+For you in my respect are all the world :
+Then how can it be said I am alone ,
+When all the world is here to look on me ?
+
+I'll run from thee and hide me in the brakes ,
+And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts .
+
+The wildest hath not such a heart as you .
+Run when you will , the story shall be chang'd ;
+Apollo flies , and Daphne holds the chase ;
+The dove pursues the griffin ; the mild hind
+Makes speed to catch the tiger : bootless speed ,
+When cowardice pursues and valour flies .
+
+I will not stay thy questions : let me go ;
+Or , if thou follow me , do not believe
+But I shall do thee mischief in the wood .
+
+Ay , in the temple , in the town , the field ,
+You do me mischief . Fie , Demetrius !
+Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex .
+We cannot fight for love , as men may do ;
+We should be woo'd and were not made to woo .
+
+I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell ,
+To die upon the hand I love so well .
+
+
+Fare thee well , nymph : ere he do leave this grove ,
+Thou shalt fly him , and he shall seek thy love .
+
+Hast thou the flower there ? Welcome , wanderer .
+
+Ay , there it is .
+
+I pray thee , give it me .
+I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows ,
+Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows
+Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine ,
+With sweet musk-roses , and with eglantine :
+There sleeps Titania some time of the night ,
+Lull'd in these flowers with dances and delight ;
+And there the snake throws her enamell'd skin ,
+Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in :
+And with the juice of this I'll streak her eyes ,
+And make her full of hateful fantasies .
+Take thou some of it , and seek through this grove :
+A sweet Athenian lady is in love
+With a disdainful youth : anoint his eyes ;
+But do it when the next thing he espies
+May be the lady . Thou shalt know the man
+By the Athenian garments he hath on .
+Effect it with some care , that he may prove
+More fond on her than she upon her love .
+And look thou meet me ere the first cock crow .
+
+Fear not , my lord , your servant shall do so .
+
+
+Come , now a roundel and a fairy song ;
+Then , for the third of a minute , hence ;
+Some to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds ,
+Some war with rere-mice for their leathern wings ,
+To make my small elves coats , and some keep back
+The clamorous owl , that nightly hoots , and wonders
+At our quaint spirits . Sing me now asleep ;
+Then to your offices , and let me rest .
+
+The Fairies sing .
+
+
+I .
+
+You spotted snakes with double tongue ,
+Thorny hedge-hogs , be not seen ;
+Newts , and blind-worms , do no wrong ;
+Come not near our fairy queen .
+Philomel , with melody ,
+Sing in our sweet lullaby :
+Lulla , lulla , lullaby ; lulla , lulla , lullaby :
+Never harm ,
+Nor spell , nor charm ,
+Come our lovely lady nigh ;
+So , good night , with lullaby .
+
+II .
+
+Weaving spiders come not here ;
+Hence , you long-legg'd spinners , hence !
+Beetles black , approach not near ;
+Worm nor snail , do no offence .
+Philomel , with melody , &c .
+
+
+Hence , away ! now all is well .
+One aloof stand sentinel .
+
+What thou seest when thou dost wake ,
+Do it for thy true-love take ;
+Love and languish for his sake :
+Be it ounce , or cat , or bear ,
+Pard , or boar with bristled hair ,
+In thy eye that shall appear
+When thou wak'st , it is thy dear .
+Wake when some vile thing is near .
+
+Fair love , you faint with wandering in the wood ;
+And to speak troth , I have forgot our way :
+We'll rest us , Hermia , if you think it good ,
+And tarry for the comfort of the day .
+
+Be it so , Lysander : find you out a bed ,
+For I upon this bank will rest my head .
+
+One turf shall serve as pillow for us both ;
+One heart , one bed , two bosoms , and one troth .
+
+Nay , good Lysander ; for my sake , my dear ,
+Lie further off yet , do not lie so near .
+
+O ! take the sense , sweet , of my innocence ,
+Love takes the meaning in love's conference .
+I mean that my heart unto yours is knit ,
+So that but one heart we can make of it ;
+Two bosoms interchained with an oath ;
+So then two bosoms and a single troth .
+Then by your side no bed-room me deny ,
+For , lying so , Hermia , I do not lie .
+
+Lysander riddles very prettily :
+Now much beshrew my manners and my pride ,
+If Hermia meant to say Lysander lied .
+But , gentle friend , for love and courtesy
+Lie further off ; in human modesty ,
+Such separation as may well be said
+Becomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid ,
+So far be distant ; and , good night , sweet friend .
+Thy love ne'er alter till thy sweet life end !
+
+Amen , amen , to that fair prayer , say I ;
+And then end life when I end loyalty !
+
+Here is my bed : sleep give thee all his rest !
+
+With half that wish the wisher's eyes be press'd !
+
+
+Through the forest have I gone ,
+But Athenian found I none ,
+On whose eyes I might approve
+This flower's force in stirring love .
+Night and silence ! who is here ?
+Weeds of Athens he doth wear :
+This is he , my master said ,
+Despised the Athenian maid ;
+And here the maiden , sleeping sound ,
+On the dank and dirty ground .
+Pretty soul ! she durst not lie
+Near this lack-love , this kill-courtesy .
+
+Churl , upon thy eyes I throw
+All the power this charm doth owe .
+When thou wak'st , let love forbid
+Sleep his seat on thy eyelid :
+So awake when I am gone ;
+For I must now to Oberon .
+
+
+Stay , though thou kill me , sweet Demetrius .
+
+I charge thee , hence , and do not haunt me thus .
+
+O ! wilt thou darkling leave me ? do not so .
+
+Stay , on thy peril : I alone will go .
+
+
+O ! I am out of breath in this fond chase .
+The more my prayer , the lesser is my grace .
+Happy is Hermia , wheresoe'er she lies ;
+For she hath blessed and attractive eyes .
+How came her eyes so bright ? Not with salt tears :
+If so , my eyes are oftener wash'd than hers .
+No , no , I am as ugly as a bear ;
+For beasts that meet me run away for fear ;
+Therefore no marvel though Demetrius
+Do , as a monster , fly my presence thus .
+What wicked and dissembling glass of mine
+Made me compare with Hermia's sphery eyne ?
+But who is here ? Lysander ! on the ground !
+Dead ? or asleep ? I see no blood , no wound .
+Lysander , if you live , good sir , awake .
+
+And run through fire I will for thy sweet sake .
+Transparent Helena ! Nature shows art ,
+That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart .
+Where is Demetrius ? O ! how fit a word
+Is that vile name to perish on my sword .
+
+Do not say so , Lysander ; say not so .
+What though he love your Hermia ? Lord ! what though ?
+Yet Hermia still loves you : then be content .
+
+Content with Hermia ! No : I do repent
+The tedious minutes I with her have spent .
+Not Hermia , but Helena I love :
+Who will not change a raven for a dove ?
+The will of man is by his reason sway'd ,
+And reason says you are the worthier maid .
+Things growing are not ripe until their season ;
+So I , being young , till now ripe not to reason ;
+And touching now the point of human skill ,
+Reason becomes the marshal to my will ,
+And leads me to your eyes ; where I o'erlook
+Love's stories written in love's richest book .
+
+Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born ?
+When at your hands did I deserve this scorn ?
+Is't not enough , is't not enough , young man ,
+That I did never , no , nor never can ,
+Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye ,
+But you must flout my insufficiency ?
+Good troth , you do me wrong , good sooth , you do ,
+In such disdainful manner me to woo .
+But fare you well : perforce I must confess
+I thought you lord of more true gentleness .
+O ! that a lady of one man refus'd ,
+Should of another therefore be abus'd .
+
+
+She sees not Hermia . Hermia , sleep thou there ;
+And never mayst thou come Lysander near .
+For , as a surfeit of the sweetest things
+The deepest loathing to the stomach brings ;
+Or , as the heresies that men do leave
+Are hated most of those they did deceive :
+So thou , my surfeit and my heresy ,
+Of all be hated , but the most of me !
+And , all my powers , address your love and might
+To honour Helen , and to be her knight .
+
+
+Help me , Lysander , help me ! do thy best
+To pluck this crawling serpent from my breast .
+Ay me , for pity ! what a dream was here !
+Lysander , look how I do quake with fear :
+Methought a serpent eat my heart away ,
+And you sat smiling at his cruel prey .
+Lysander ! what ! remov'd ?Lysander ! lord !
+What ! out of hearing ? gone ? no sound , no word ?
+Alack ! where are you ? speak , an if you hear ;
+Speak , of all loves ! I swound almost with fear .
+No ! then I well perceive you are not nigh :
+Either death or you I'll find immediately .
+
+Are we all met ?
+
+Pat , pat ; and here's a marvellous convenient place for our rehearsal . This green plot shall be our stage , this hawthorn-brake our tiring-house ; and we will do it in action as we will do it before the duke .
+
+Peter Quince ,
+
+What sayst thou , bully Bottom ?
+
+There are things in this comedy of Pyramus and Thisby that will never please . First , Pyramus must draw a sword to kill himself , which the ladies cannot abide . How answer you that ?
+
+By'r lakin , a parlous fear .
+
+I believe we must leave the killing out , when all is done .
+
+Not a whit : I have a device to make all well . Write me a prologue ; and let the prologue seem to say , we will do no harm with our swords , and that Pyramus is not killed indeed ; and , for the more better assurance , tell them that I , Pyramus , am not Pyramus , but Bottom the weaver : this will put them out of fear .
+
+Well , we will have such a prologue , and it shall be written in eight and six .
+
+No , make it two more : let it be written in eight and eight .
+
+Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion ?
+
+I fear it , I promise you .
+
+Masters , you ought to consider with yourselves : to bring in ,God shield us !a lion among ladies , is a most dreadful thing ; for there is not a more fearful wild-fowl than your lion living , and we ought to look to it .
+
+Therefore , another prologue must tell he is not a lion .
+
+Nay , you must name his name , and half his face must be seen through the lion's neck ; and he himself must speak through , saying thus , or to the same defect , 'Ladies ,' or , 'Fair ladies ,' 'I would wish you ,' or , 'I would request you ,' or , 'I would entreat you , not to fear , not to tremble : my life for yours . If you think I come hither as a lion , it were pity of my life : no , I am no such thing : I am a man as other men are ;' and there indeed let him name his name , and tell them plainly he is Snug the joiner .
+
+Well , it shall be so . But there is two hard things , that is , to bring the moonlight into a chamber ; for , you know , Pyramus and Thisby meet by moonlight .
+
+Doth the moon shine that night we play our play ?
+
+A calendar , a calendar ! look in the almanack ; find out moonshine , find out moonshine .
+
+Yes , it doth shine that night .
+
+Why , then may you leave a casement of the great chamber-window , where we play , open ; and the moon may shine in at the casement .
+
+Ay ; or else one must come in with a bush of thorns and a lanthorn , and say he comes to disfigure , or to present , the person of Moonshine . Then , there is another thing : we must have a wall in the great chamber ; for Pyramus and Thisby , says the story , did talk through the chink of a wall .
+
+You can never bring in a wall . What say you , Bottom ?
+
+Some man or other must present Wall ; and let him have some plaster , or some loam , or some rough-cast about him , to signify wall ; and let him hold his fingers thus , and through that cranny shall Pyramus and Thisby whisper .
+
+If that may be , than all is well . Come , sit down , every mother's son , and rehearse your parts . Pyramus , you begin : when you have spoken your speech , enter into that brake ; and so every one according to his cue .
+
+
+What hempen home-spuns have we swaggering here ,
+So near the cradle of the fairy queen ?
+What ! a play toward ; I'll be an auditor ;
+An actor too perhaps , if I see cause .
+
+Speak , Pyramus .Thisby , stand forth .
+
+Thisby , the flowers have odious savours sweet ,
+
+Odorous , odorous .
+
+odours savours sweet :
+So hath thy breath , my dearest Thisby dear . But hark , a voice ! stay thou but here awhile ,
+And by and by I will to thee appear .
+
+
+A stranger Pyramus than e'er play'd here !
+
+
+Must I speak now ?
+
+Ay , marry , must you ; for you must understand , he goes but to see a noise that he heard , and is to come again .
+
+Most radiant Pyramus , most lily-white of hue ,
+Of colour like the red rose on triumphant brier ,
+Most brisky juvenal , and eke most lovely Jew ,
+As true as truest horse that yet would never tire ,
+I'll meet thee , Pyramus , at Ninny's tomb .
+
+'Ninus' tomb ,' man . Why , you must not speak that yet ; that you answer to Pyramus : you speak all your part at once , cues and all . Pyramus , enter : your cue is past ; it is 'never tire .'
+
+O !As true as truest horse , that yet would never tire .
+
+
+If I were , fair Thisby , I were only thine .
+
+O monstrous ! O strange ! we are haunted .
+Pray , masters ! fly , masters !Help !
+
+
+I'll follow you , I'll lead you about a round ,
+Through bog , through bush , through brake , through brier :
+Sometime a horse I'll be , sometime a hound ,
+A hog , a headless bear , sometime a fire ;
+And neigh , and bark , and grunt , and roar , and burn ,
+Like horse , hound , hog , bear , fire , at every turn .
+
+
+Why do they run away ? this is a knavery of them to make me afeard .
+
+
+O Bottom , thou art changed ! what do I see on thee ?
+
+What do you see ? you see an ass-head of your own , do you ?
+
+Bless thee , Bottom ! bless thee ! thou art translated .
+
+
+I see their knavery : this is to make an ass of me ; to fright me , if they could . But I will not stir from this place , do what they can : I will walk up and down here , and I will sing , that they shall hear I am not afraid .
+
+The ousel-cock , so black of hue ,
+With orange-tawny bill ,
+The throstle with his note so true ,
+The wren with little quill .
+
+
+What angel wakes me from my flowery bed ?
+
+
+The finch , the sparrow , and the lark ,
+The plain-song cuckoo gray ,
+Whose note full many a man doth mark ,
+And dares not answer , nay ;
+
+for indeed , who would set his wit to so foolish a bird ? who would give a bird the lie , though he cry 'cuckoo' never so ?
+
+I pray thee , gentle mortal , sing again :
+Mine ear is much enamour'd of thy note ;
+So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape ;
+And thy fair virtue's force , perforce , doth move me ,
+On the first view , to say , to swear , I love thee .
+
+Methinks , mistress , you should have little reason for that : and yet , to say the truth , reason and love keep little company together now-a-days . The more the pity , that some honest neighbours will not make them friends . Nay , I can gleek upon occasion .
+
+Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful .
+
+Not so , neither ; but if I had wit enough to get out of this wood , I have enough to serve mine own turn .
+
+Out of this wood do not desire to go :
+Thou shalt remain here , whe'r thou wilt or no .
+I am a spirit of no common rate ;
+The summer still doth tend upon my state ;
+And I do love thee : therefore , go with me ;
+I'll give thee fairies to attend on thee ,
+And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep ,
+And sing , while thou on pressed flowers dost sleep :
+And I will purge thy mortal grossness so
+That thou shalt like an airy spirit go .
+Pease-blossom ! Cobweb ! Moth ! and Mustardseed !
+
+
+Ready .
+
+And I .
+
+And I .
+
+And I .
+
+Where shall we go ?
+
+Be kind and courteous to this gentleman ;
+Hop in his walks , and gambol in his eyes ;
+Feed him with apricocks and dewberries ,
+With purple grapes , green figs , and mulberries .
+The honey-bags steal from the humble-bees ,
+And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighs ,
+And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes ,
+To have my love to bed , and to arise ;
+And pluck the wings from painted butterflies
+To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes :
+Nod to him , elves , and do him courtesies .
+
+Hail , mortal !
+
+Hail !
+
+Hail !
+
+Hail !
+
+I cry your worships mercy , heartily : I beseech your worship's name .
+
+Cobweb .
+
+I shall desire you of more acquaintance , good Master Cobweb : if I out my finger , I shall make bold with you . Your name , honest gentleman ?
+
+Pease-blossom .
+
+I pray you , commend me to Mistress Squash , your mother , and to Master Peascod , your father . Good Master Pease-blossom , I shall desire you of more acquaintance too . Your name , I beseech you , sir ?
+
+Mustard-seed .
+
+Good Master Mustard-seed , I know your patience well : that same cowardly , giant-like ox-beef hath devoured many a gentleman of your house . I promise you , your kindred hath made my eyes water ere now . I desire you of more acquaintance , good Master Mustard-seed .
+
+Come , wait upon him ; lead him to my bower .
+The moon methinks , looks with a watery eye ;
+And when she weeps , weeps every little flower ,
+Lamenting some enforced chastity .
+Tie up my love's tongue , bring him silently .
+
+
+I wonder if Titania be awak'd ;
+Then , what it was that next came in her eye ,
+Which she must dote on in extremity .
+Here comes my messenger .
+
+
+How now , mad spirit !
+
+What night-rule now about this haunted grove ?
+
+My mistress with a monster is in love .
+Near to her close and consecrated bower ,
+While she was in her dull and sleeping hour ,
+A crew of patches , rude mechanicals ,
+That work for bread upon Athenian stalls ,
+Were met together to rehearse a play
+Intended for great Theseus' nuptial day .
+The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort ,
+Who Pyramus presented in their sport
+Forsook his scene , and enter'd in a brake ,
+When I did him at this advantage take ;
+An ass's nowl I fixed on his head :
+Anon his Thisbe must be answered ,
+And forth my mimick comes . When they him spy ,
+As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye ,
+Or russet-pated choughs , many in sort ,
+Rising and cawing at the gun's report ,
+Sever themselves , and madly sweep the sky ;
+So , at his sight , away his fellows fly ,
+And , at our stamp , here o'er and o'er one falls ;
+He murder cries , and help from Athens calls .
+Their sense thus weak , lost with their fears thus strong ,
+Made senseless things begin to do them wrong ;
+For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch ;
+Some sleeves , some hats , from yielders all things catch .
+I led them on in this distracted fear ,
+And left sweet Pyramus translated there ;
+When in that moment , so it came to pass ,
+Titania wak'd and straightway lov'd an ass .
+
+This falls out better than I could devise .
+But hast thou yet latch'd the Athenian's eyes
+With the love-juice , as I did bid thee do ?
+
+I took him sleeping ,that is finish'd too ,
+And the Athenian woman by his side ;
+That , when he wak'd , of force she must be ey'd .
+
+
+Stand close : this is the same Athenian .
+
+This is the woman ; but not this the man .
+
+O ! why rebuke you him that loves you so ?
+Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe .
+
+Now I but chide ; but I should use thee worse ,
+For thou , I fear , hast given me cause to curse .
+If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep ,
+Being o'er shoes in blood , plunge in knee deep ,
+And kill me too .
+The sun was not so true unto the day
+As he to me . Would he have stol'n away
+From sleeping Hermia ? I'll believe as soon
+This whole earth may be bor'd , and that the moon
+May through the centre creep , and so displease
+Her brother's noontide with the Antipodes .
+It cannot be but thou hast murder'd him ;
+So should a murderer look , so dead , so grim .
+
+So should the murder'd look , and so should I ,
+Pierc'd through the heart with your stern cruelty ;
+Yet you , the murderer , look as bright , as clear ,
+As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere .
+
+What's this to my Lysander ? where is he ?
+Ah ! good Demetrius , wilt thou give him me ?
+
+I had rather give his carcass to my hounds .
+
+Out , dog ! out , cur ! thou driv'st me past the bounds
+Of maiden's patience . Hast thou slain him then ?
+Henceforth be never number'd among men !
+O ! once tell true , tell true , e'en for my sake ;
+Durst thou have look'd upon him being awake ,
+And hast thou kill'd him sleeping ? O brave touch !
+Could not a worm , an adder , do so much ?
+An adder did it ; for with doubler tongue
+Than thine , thou serpent , never adder stung .
+
+You spend your passion on a mispris'd mood :
+I am not guilty of Lysander's blood ,
+Nor is he dead , for aught that I can tell .
+
+I pray thee , tell me then that he is well .
+
+An if I could , what should I get therefore ?
+
+A privilege never to see me more .
+And from thy hated presence part I so ;
+See me no more , whe'r he be dead or no .
+
+
+There is no following her in this fierce vein :
+Here therefore for awhile I will remain .
+So sorrow's heaviness doth heavier grow
+For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe ;
+Which now in some slight measure it will pay ,
+If for his tender here I make some stay .
+
+
+What hast thou done ? thou hast mistaken quite ,
+And laid the love-juice on some true-love's sight :
+Of thy misprision must perforce ensue
+Some true-love turn'd , and not a false turn'd true .
+
+Then fate o'er-rules , that , one man holding troth ,
+A million fail , confounding oath on oath .
+
+About the wood go swifter than the wind ,
+And Helena of Athens look thou find :
+All fancy-sick she is , and pale of cheer
+With sighs of love , that cost the fresh blood dear .
+By some illusion see thou bring her here :
+I'll charm his eyes against she do appear .
+
+I go , I go ; look how I go ;
+Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow .
+
+Flower of this purple dye ,
+Hit with Cupid's archery ,
+Sink in apple of his eye .
+When his love he doth espy ,
+Let her shine as gloriously
+As the Venus of the sky .
+When thou wak'st , if she be by ,
+Beg of her for remedy .
+
+
+Captain of our fairy band ,
+Helena is here at hand ,
+And the youth , mistook by me ,
+Pleading for a lover's fee .
+Shall we their fond pageant see ?
+Lord , what fools these mortals be !
+
+Stand aside : the noise they make
+Will cause Demetrius to awake .
+
+Then will two at once woo one ;
+That must needs be sport alone ;
+And those things do best please me
+That befall preposterously .
+
+Why should you think that I should woo in scorn ?
+Scorn and derision never come in tears :
+Look , when I vow , I weep ; and vows so born ,
+In their nativity all truth appears .
+How can these things in me seem scorn to you ,
+Bearing the badge of faith to prove them true ?
+
+You do advance your cunning more and more .
+When truth kills truth , O devilish-holy fray !
+These vows are Hermia's : will you give her o'er ?
+Weigh oath with oath , and you will nothing weigh :
+Your vows , to her and me , put in two scales ,
+Will even weigh , and both as light as tales .
+
+I had no judgment when to her I swore .
+
+Nor none , in my mind , now you give her o'er .
+
+Demetrius loves her , and he loves not you .
+
+O Helen ! goddess , nymph , perfect , divine !
+To what , my love , shall I compare thine eyne ?
+Crystal is muddy . O ! how ripe in show
+Thy lips , those kissing cherries , tempting grow ,
+This pure congealed white , high Taurus' snow ,
+Fann'd with the eastern wind , turns to a crow
+When thou hold'st up thy hand . O ! let me kiss
+That princess of pure white , this seal of bliss .
+
+O spite ! O hell ! I see you all are bent
+To set against me for your merriment :
+If you were civil and knew courtesy ,
+You would not do me thus much injury .
+Can you not hate me , as I know you do ,
+But you must join in souls to mock me too ?
+If you were men , as men you are in show ,
+You would not use a gentle lady so ;
+To vow , and swear , and superpraise my parts ,
+When I am sure you hate me with your hearts .
+You both are rivals , and love Hermia ,
+And now both rivals , to mock Helena :
+A trim exploit , a manly enterprise ,
+To conjure tears up in a poor maid's eyes
+With your derision ! none of noble sort
+Would so offend a virgin , and extort
+A poor soul's patience , all to make you sport .
+
+You are unkind , Demetrius ; be not so ;
+For you love Hermia ; this you know I know :
+And here , with all good will , with all my heart ,
+In Hermia's love I yield you up my part ;
+And yours of Helena to me bequeath ,
+Whom I do love , and will do to my death .
+
+Never did mockers waste more idle breath .
+
+Lysander , keep thy Hermia ; I will none :
+If e'er I lov'd her , all that love is gone .
+My heart with her but as guest wise sojourn'd ,
+And now to Helen it is home return'd ,
+There to remain .
+
+Helen , it is not so .
+
+Disparage not the faith thou dost not know ,
+Lest to thy peril thou aby it dear .
+Look ! where thy love comes : yonder is thy dear .
+
+
+Dark night , that from the eye his function takes ,
+The ear more quick of apprehension makes ;
+Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense ,
+It pays the hearing double recompense .
+Thou art not by mine eye , Lysander , found ;
+Mine ear , I thank it , brought me to thy sound .
+But why unkindly didst thou leave me so ?
+
+Why should he stay , whom love doth press to go ?
+
+What love could press Lysander from my side ?
+
+Lysander's love , that would not let him bide ,
+Fair Helena , who more engilds the night
+Than all yon fiery oes and eyes of light .
+Why seek'st thou me ? could not this make thee know ,
+The hate I bear thee made me leave thee so ?
+
+You speak not as you think : it cannot be .
+
+Lo ! she is one of this confederacy .
+Now I perceive they have conjoin'd all three
+To fashion this false sport in spite of me .
+Injurious Hermia ! most ungrateful maid !
+Have you conspir'd , have you with these contriv'd
+To bait me with this foul derision ?
+Is all the counsel that we two have shar'd ,
+The sister-vows , the hours that we have spent ,
+When we have chid the hasty-footed time
+For parting us , O ! is it all forgot ?
+All school-days' friendship , childhood innocence ?
+We , Hermia , like two artificial gods ,
+Have with our neelds created both one flower ,
+Both on one sampler , sitting on one cushion ,
+Both warbling of one song , both in one key ,
+As if our hands , our sides , voices , and minds ,
+Had been incorporate . So we grew together ,
+Like to a double cherry , seeming parted ,
+But yet an union in partition ;
+Two lovely berries moulded on one stem ;
+So , with two seeming bodies , but one heart ;
+Two of the first , like coats in heraldry ,
+Due but to one , and crowned with one crest .
+And will you rent our ancient love asunder ,
+To join with men in scorning your poor friend ?
+It is not friendly , 'tis not maidenly :
+Our sex , as well as I , may chide you for it ,
+Though I alone do feel the injury .
+
+I am amazed at your passionate words .
+I scorn you not : it seems that you scorn me .
+
+Have you not set Lysander , as in scorn ,
+To follow me and praise my eyes and face ,
+And made your other love , Demetrius ,
+Who even but now did spurn me with his foot ,
+To call me goddess , nymph , divine and rare ,
+Precious , celestial ? Wherefore speaks he this
+To her he hates ? and wherefore doth Lysander
+Deny your love , so rich within his soul ,
+And tender me , forsooth , affection ,
+But by your setting on , by your consent ?
+What though I be not so in grace as you ,
+So hung upon with love , so fortunate ,
+But miserable most to love unlov'd ?
+This you should pity rather than despise .
+
+I understand not what you mean by this .
+
+Ay , do , persever , counterfeit sad looks ,
+Make mouths upon me when I turn my back ;
+Wink each at other ; hold the sweet jest up :
+This sport , well carried , shall be chronicled .
+If you have any pity , grace , or manners ,
+You would not make me such an argument .
+But , fare ye well : 'tis partly mine own fault ,
+Which death or absence soon shall remedy .
+
+Stay , gentle Helena ! hear my excuse :
+My love , my life , my soul , fair Helena !
+
+O excellent !
+
+Sweet , do not scorn her so .
+
+If she cannot entreat , I can compel .
+
+Thou canst compel no more than she entreat :
+Thy threats have no more strength than her weak prayers .
+Helen , I love thee ; by my life , I do :
+I swear by that which I will lose for thee ,
+To prove him false that says I love thee not .
+
+I say I love thee more than he can do .
+
+If thou say so , withdraw , and prove it too .
+
+Quick , come !
+
+Lysander , whereto tends all this ?
+
+Away , you Ethiop !
+
+No , no , he'll . . .
+Seem to break loose ; take on , as you would follow ,
+But yet come not : you are a tame man , go !
+
+Hang off , thou cat , thou burr ! vile thing , let loose ,
+Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent .
+
+Why are you grown so rude ? what change is this ,
+Sweet love ,
+
+Thy love ! out , tawny Tartar , out !
+Out , loathed medicine ! hated poison , hence !
+
+Do you not jest ?
+
+Yes , sooth ; and so do you .
+
+Demetrius , I will keep my word with thee .
+
+I would I had your bond , for I perceive
+A weak bond holds you : I'll not trust your word .
+
+What ! should I hurt her , strike her , kill her dead ?
+Although I hate her , I'll not harm her so .
+
+What ! can you do me greater harm than hate ?
+Hate me ! wherefore ? O me ! what news , my love ?
+Am not I Hermia ? Are not you Lysander ?
+I am as fair now as I was erewhile .
+Since night you lov'd me ; yet , since night you left me :
+Why , then you left me ,O , the gods forbid !
+In earnest , shall I say ?
+
+Ay , by my life ;
+And never did desire to see thee more .
+Therefore be out of hope , of question , doubt ;
+Be certain , nothing truer : 'tis no jest ,
+That I do hate thee and love Helena .
+
+O me ! you juggler ! you canker-blossom !
+You thief of love ! what ! have you come by night
+And stol'n my love's heart from him ?
+
+Fine , i' faith !
+Have you no modesty , no maiden shame ,
+No touch of bashfulness ? What ! will you tear
+Impatient answers from my gentle tongue ?
+Fie , fie ! you counterfeit , you puppet you !
+
+Puppet ! why , so : ay , that way goes the game .
+Now I perceive that she hath made compare
+Between our statures : she hath urg'd her height ;
+And with her personage , her tall personage ,
+Her height , forsooth , she hath prevail'd with him .
+And are you grown so high in his esteem ,
+Because I am so dwarfish and so low ?
+How low am I , thou painted maypole ? speak ;
+How low am I ? I am not yet so low
+But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes .
+
+I pray you , though you mock me , gentlemen ,
+Let her not hurt me : I was never curst ;
+I have no gift at all in shrewishness ;
+I am a right maid for my cowardice :
+Let her not strike me . You perhaps may think ,
+Because she is something lower than myself ,
+That I can match her .
+
+Lower ! hark , again .
+
+Good Hermia , do not be so bitter with me .
+I evermore did love you , Hermia ,
+Did ever keep your counsels , never wrong'd you ;
+Save that , in love unto Demetrius ,
+I told him of your stealth unto this wood .
+He follow'd you ; for love I follow'd him ;
+But he hath chid me hence , and threaten'd me
+To strike me , spurn me , nay , to kill me too :
+And now , so you will let me quiet go ,
+To Athens will I bear my folly back ,
+And follow you no further : let me go :
+You see how simple and how fond I am .
+
+Why , get you gone . Who is't that hinders you ?
+
+A foolish heart , that I leave here behind .
+
+What ! with Lysander ?
+
+With Demetrius .
+
+Be not afraid : she shall not harm thee , Helena .
+
+No , sir ; she shall not , though you take her part .
+
+O ! when she's angry , she is keen and shrewd .
+She was a vixen when she went to school :
+And though she be but little , she is fierce .
+
+'Little' again ! nothing but 'low' and 'little !'
+Why will you suffer her to flout me thus ?
+Let me come to her .
+
+Get you gone , you dwarf ;
+You minimus , of hindering knot-grass made ;
+You bead , you acorn !
+
+You are too officious
+In her behalf that scorns your services .
+Let her alone ; speak not of Helena ;
+Take not her part , for , if thou dost intend
+Never so little show of love to her ,
+Thou shalt aby it .
+
+Now she holds me not ;
+Now follow , if thou dar'st , to try whose right ,
+Or thine or mine , is most in Helena .
+
+Follow ! nay , I'll go with thee , cheek by jole .
+
+
+You , mistress , all this coil is 'long of you :
+Nay , go not back .
+
+I will not trust you , I ,
+Nor longer stay in your curst company .
+Your hands than mine are quicker for a fray ,
+My legs are longer though , to run away .
+
+
+I am amaz'd , and know not what to say .
+
+
+This is thy negligence : still thou mistak'st ,
+Or else commit'st thy knaveries wilfully .
+
+Believe me , king of shadows , I mistook .
+Did not you tell me I should know the man
+By the Athenian garments he had on ?
+And so far blameless proves my enterprise ,
+That I have 'nointed an Athenian's eyes ;
+And so far am I glad it so did sort ,
+As this their jangling I esteem a sport .
+
+Thou see'st these lovers seek a place to fight :
+Hie therefore , Robin , overcast the night ;
+The starry welking cover thou anon
+With drooping fog as black as Acheron ;
+And lead these testy rivals so astray ,
+As one come not within another's way .
+Like to Lysander sometime frame thy tongue ,
+Then stir Demetrius up with bitter wrong ;
+And sometime rail thou like Demetrius ;
+And from each other look thou lead them thus ,
+Till o'er their brows death-counterfeiting sleep
+With leaden legs and batty wings doth creep :
+Then crush this herb into Lysander's eye ;
+Whose liquor hath this virtuous property ,
+To take from thence all error with his might ,
+And make his eyeballs roll with wonted sight .
+When they next wake , all this derision
+Shall seem a dream and fruitless vision ;
+And back to Athens shall the lovers wend ,
+With league whose date till death shall never end .
+Whiles I in this affair do thee employ ,
+I'll to my queen and beg her Indian boy ;
+And then I will her charmed eye release
+From monster's view , and all things shall be peace .
+
+My fairy lord , this must be done with haste ,
+For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast ,
+And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger ;
+At whose approach , ghosts , wandering here and there ,
+Troop home to churchyards : damned spirits all ,
+That in cross-ways and floods have burial ,
+Already to their wormy beds are gone ;
+For fear lest day should look their shames upon ,
+They wilfully themselves exile from light ,
+And must for aye consort with black-brow'd night .
+
+But we are spirits of another sort .
+I with the morning's love have oft made sport ;
+And , like a forester , the groves may tread ,
+Even till the eastern gate , all fiery-red ,
+Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams ,
+Turns into yellow gold his salt green-streams .
+But , notwithstanding , haste ; make no delay :
+We may effect this business yet ere day .
+
+Up and down , up and down ;
+I will lead them up and down :
+I am fear'd in field and town ;
+Goblin , lead them up and down .
+
+Here comes one .
+
+
+Where art thou , proud Demetrius ? speak thou now .
+
+Here , villain ! drawn and ready . Where art thou ?
+
+I will be with thee straight .
+
+Follow me , then ,
+To plainer ground .
+
+Lysander ! speak again .
+Thou runaway , thou coward , art thou fled ?
+Speak ! In some bush ? Where dost thou hide thy head ?
+
+Thou coward ! art thou bragging to the stars ,
+Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars ,
+And wilt not come ? Come , recreant ; come , thou child ;
+I'll whip thee with a rod : he is defil'd
+That draws a sword on thee .
+
+Yea , art thou there ?
+
+Follow my voice : we'll try no manhood here .
+
+He goes before me and still dares me on :
+When I come where he calls , then he is gone .
+The villain is much lighter-heel'd than I :
+I follow'd fast , but faster he did fly ;
+That fallen am I in dark uneven way ,
+And here will rest me .
+
+Come , thou gentle day !
+For if but once thou show me thy grey light ,
+I'll find Demetrius and revenge this spite .
+
+Ho ! ho ! ho ! Coward , why com'st thou not ?
+
+Abide me , if thou dar'st ; for well I wot
+Thou runn'st before me , shifting every place ,
+And dar'st not stand , nor look me in the face .
+Where art thou now ?
+
+Come hither : I am here .
+
+Nay then , thou mock'st me . Thou shalt buy this dear ,
+If ever I thy face by daylight see :
+Now , go thy way . Faintness constraineth me
+To measure out my length on this cold bed :
+By day's approach look to be visited .
+
+O weary night ! O long and tedious night ,
+Abate thy hours ! shine , comforts , from the east !
+That I may back to Athens by daylight ,
+From these that my poor company detest :
+And sleep , that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eye ,
+Steal me awhile from mine own company .
+
+Yet but three ? Come one more ;
+Two of both kinds make up four .
+Here she comes , curst and sad :
+Cupid is a knavish lad ,
+Thus to make poor females mad .
+
+Never so weary , never so in woe ,
+Bedabbled with the dew and torn with briers ,
+I can no further crawl , no further go ;
+My legs can keep no pace with my desires .
+Here will I rest me till the break of day .
+Heavens shield Lysander , if they mean a fray !
+
+On the ground
+Sleep sound :
+I'll apply
+To your eye ,
+Gentle lover , remedy
+
+When thou wak'st ,
+Thou tak'st
+True delight
+In the sight
+Of thy former lady's eye :
+And the country proverb known ,
+That every man should take his own ,
+In your waking shall be shown :
+Jack shall have Jill ;
+Nought shall go ill ;
+The man shall have his mare again ,
+And all shall be well .
+
+
+Come , sit thee down upon this flowery bed ,
+While I thy amiable cheeks do coy ,
+And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head ,
+And kiss thy fair large ears , my gentle joy .
+
+Where's Pease-blossom ?
+
+Ready .
+
+Scratch my head , Pease-blossom . Where's Mounsieur Cobweb ?
+
+Ready .
+
+Mounsieur Cobweb , good mounsieur , get your weapons in your hand , and kill me a red-hipped humble-bee on the top of a thistle ; and , good mounsieur , bring me the honey-bag . Do not fret yourself too much in the action , mounsieur ; and , good mounsieur , have a care the honey-bag break not ; I would be loath to have you overflown with a honey-bag , signior . Where's Mounsieur Mustard-seed ?
+
+Ready .
+
+Give me your neaf , Mounsieur Mustard-seed . Pray you , leave your curtsy , good mounsieur .
+
+What's your will ?
+
+Nothing , good mounsieur , but to help Cavalery Cobweb to scratch . I must to the barber's , mounsieur , for methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face ; and I am such a tender ass , if my hair do but tickle me , I must scratch .
+
+What , wilt thou hear some music , my sweet love ?
+
+I have a reasonable good ear in music : let us have the tongs and the bones .
+
+Or say , sweet love , what thou desir'st to eat .
+
+Truly , a peck of provender : I could munch your good dry oats . Methinks I have a great desire to a bottle of hay : good hay , sweet hay , hath no fellow .
+
+I have a venturous fairy that shall seek
+The squirrel's hoard , and fetch thee thence new nuts .
+
+I had rather have a handful or two of dried pease . But , I pray you , let none of your people stir me : I have an exposition of sleep come upon me .
+
+Sleep thou , and I will wind thee in my arms .
+Fairies , be gone , and be all ways away .
+
+So doth the woodbine the sweet honeysuckle
+Gently entwist ; the female ivy so
+Enrings the barky fingers of the elm .
+O ! how I love thee ; how I dote on thee !
+
+Welcome , good Robin . See'st thou this sweet sight ?
+Her dotage now I do begin to pity :
+For , meeting her of late behind the wood ,
+Seeking sweet favours for this hateful fool ,
+I did upbraid her and fall out with her ;
+For she his hairy temples then had rounded
+With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers ;
+And that same dew , which sometime on the buds
+Was wont to swell like round and orient pearls ,
+Stood now within the pretty flowerets' eyes
+Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail .
+When I had at my pleasure taunted her ,
+And she in mild terms begg'd my patience ,
+I then did ask of her her changeling child ;
+Which straight she gave me , and her fairy sent
+To bear him to my bower in fairy land .
+And now I have the boy , I will undo
+This hateful imperfection of her eyes :
+And , gentle Puck , take this transformed scalp
+From off the head of this Athenian swain ,
+That he , awaking when the other do ,
+May all to Athens back again repair ,
+And think no more of this night's accidents
+But as the fierce vexation of a dream .
+But first I will release the fairy queen .
+
+
+Be as thou wast wont to be ;
+See as thou wast wont to see :
+Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower
+Hath such force and blessed power .
+
+Now , my Titania ; wake you , my sweet queen .
+
+My Oberon ! what visions have I seen !
+Methought I was enamour'd of an ass .
+
+There lies your love .
+
+How came these things to pass ?
+O ! how mine eyes do loathe his visage now .
+
+Silence , awhile . Robin , take off this head .
+Titania , music call ; and strike more dead
+Than common sleep of all these five the sense .
+
+Music , ho ! music ! such as charmeth sleep .
+
+
+When thou wak'st , with thine own fool's eyes peep .
+
+Sound , music !
+
+Come , my queen , take hands with me ,
+And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be .
+Now thou and I are new in amity ,
+And will to-morrow midnight solemnly
+Dance in Duke Theseus' house triumphantly ,
+And bless it to all fair prosperity .
+There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be
+Wedded , with Theseus , all in jollity .
+
+
+Fairy king , attend , and mark :
+I do hear the morning lark .
+
+Then , my queen , in silence sad ,
+Trip we after the night's shade ;
+We the globe can compass soon ,
+Swifter than the wandering moon .
+
+Come , my lord ; and in our flight
+Tell me how it came this night
+That I sleeping here was found
+With these mortals on the ground .
+
+
+Go , one of you , find out the forester ;
+For now our observation is perform'd ;
+And since we have the vaward of the day ,
+My love shall hear the music of my hounds .
+Uncouple in the western valley ; let them go :
+Dispatch , I say , and find the forester .
+We will , fair queen , up to the mountain's top ,
+And mark the musical confusion
+Of hounds and echo in conjunction .
+
+I was with Hercules and Cadmus once ,
+When in a wood of Crete they bay'd the bear
+With hounds of Sparta : never did I hear
+Such gallant chiding ; for , besides the groves ,
+The skies , the fountains , every region near
+Seem'd all one mutual cry . I never heard
+So musical a discord , such sweet thunder .
+
+My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind ,
+So flew'd , so sanded ; and their heads are hung
+With ears that sweep away the morning dew ;
+Crook-knee'd , and dew-lapp'd like Thessalian bulls ;
+Slow in pursuit , but match'd in mouth like bells ,
+Each under each . A cry more tuneable
+Was never holla'd to , nor cheer'd with horn ,
+In Crete , in Sparta , nor in Thessaly :
+Judge , when you hear . But , soft ! what nymphs are these ?
+
+My lord , this is my daughter here asleep ;
+And this , Lysander ; this Demetrius is ;
+This Helena , old Nedar's Helena :
+I wonder of their being here together .
+
+No doubt they rose up early to observe
+The rite of May , and , hearing our intent ,
+Came here in grace of our solemnity .
+But speak , Egeus , is not this the day
+That Hermia should give answer of her choice ?
+
+It is , my lord .
+
+Go , bid the huntsmen wake them with their horns .
+
+
+Good morrow , friends . Saint Valentine is past :
+
+Begin these wood-birds but to couple now ?
+
+Pardon , my lord .
+
+
+I pray you all , stand up .
+I know you two are rival enemies :
+How comes this gentle concord in the world ,
+That hatred is so far from jealousy ,
+To sleep by hate , and fear no enmity ?
+
+My lord , I shall reply amazedly ,
+Half sleep , half waking : but as yet , I swear ,
+I cannot truly say how I came here ;
+But , as I think ,for truly would I speak ,
+And now I do bethink me , so it is ,
+I came with Hermia hither : our intent
+Was to be gone from Athens , where we might ,
+Without the peril of the Athenian law
+
+Enough , enough , my lord ; you have enough :
+I beg the law , the law , upon his head .
+They would have stol'n away ; they would , Demetrius ,
+Thereby to have defeated you and me ;
+You of your wife , and me of my consent ,
+Of my consent that she should be your wife .
+
+My lord , fair Helen told me of their stealth ,
+Of this their purpose hither , to this wood ;
+And I in fury hither follow'd them ,
+Fair Helena in fancy following me .
+But , my good lord , I wot not by what power ,
+But by some power it is ,my love to Hermia ,
+Melted as doth the snow , seems to me now
+As the remembrance of an idle gaud
+Which in my childhood I did dote upon ;
+And all the faith , the virtue of my heart ,
+The object and the pleasure of mine eye ,
+Is only Helena . To her , my lord ,
+Was I betroth'd ere I saw Hermia :
+But , like in sickness , did I loathe this food ;
+But , as in health , come to my natural taste ,
+Now do I wish it , love it , long for it ,
+And will for evermore be true to it .
+
+Fair lovers , you are fortunately met :
+Of this discourse we more will hear anon .
+Egeus , I will overbear your will ,
+For in the temple , by and by , with us ,
+These couples shall eternally be knit :
+And , for the morning now is something worn ,
+Our purpos'd hunting shall be set aside .
+Away with us , to Athens : three and three ,
+We'll hold a feast in great solemnity .
+Come , Hippolyta .
+
+
+These things seem small and undistinguishable ,
+Like far-off mountains turned into clouds .
+
+Methinks I see these things with parted eye ,
+When everything seems double .
+
+So methinks :
+And I have found Demetrius , like a jewel ,
+Mine own , and not mine own .
+
+Are you sure
+That we are awake ? It seems to me
+That yet we sleep , we dream . Do you not think
+The duke was here , and bid us follow him ?
+
+Yea ; and my father .
+
+And Hippolyta .
+
+And he did bid us follow to the temple .
+
+Why then , we are awake . Let's follow him ;
+And by the way let us recount our dreams .
+
+
+When my cue comes , call me , and I will answer : my next is , 'Most fair Pyramus .' Heigh-ho ! Peter Quince ! Flute , the bellows-mender ! Snout , the tinker ! Starveling ! God's my life ! stolen hence , and left me asleep ! I have had a most rare vision . I have had a dream , past the wit of man to say what dream it was : man is but an ass , if he go about to expound this dream . Methought I was there is no man can tell what . Methought I was ,and methought I had ,but man is but a patched fool , if he will offer to say what methought I had . The eye of man hath not heard , the ear of man hath not seen , man's hand is not able to taste , his tongue to conceive , nor his heart to report , what my dream was . I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream : it shall be called Bottom's Dream , because it hath no bottom ; and I will sing it in the latter end of a play , before the duke : peradventure , to make it the more gracious , I shall sing it at her death .
+
+
+Have you sent to Bottom's house ? is he come home yet ?
+
+He cannot be heard of . Out of doubt he is transported .
+
+If he come not , then the play is marred : it goes not forward , doth it ?
+
+It is not possible : you have not a man in all Athens able to discharge Pyramus but he .
+
+No ; he hath simply the best wit of any handicraft man in Athens .
+
+Yea , and the best person too ; and he is a very paramour for a sweet voice .
+
+You must say , 'paragon :' a paramour is , God bless us ! a thing of naught .
+
+
+Masters , the duke is coming from the temple , and there is two or three lords and ladies more married : if our sport had gone forward , we had all been made men .
+
+O sweet bully Bottom ! Thus hath he lost sixpence a day during his life ; he could not have 'scaped sixpence a day : an the duke had not given him sixpence a day for playing Pyramus , I'll be hanged ; he would have deserved it : sixpence a day in Pyramus , or nothing .
+
+
+Where are these lads ? where are these hearts ?
+
+Bottom ! O most courageous day ! O most happy hour !
+
+Masters , I am to discourse wonders : but ask me not what ; for if I tell you , I am no true Athenian . I will tell you everything , right as it fell out .
+
+Let us hear , sweet Bottom .
+
+Not a word of me . All that I will tell you is , that the duke hath dined . Get your apparel together , good strings to your beards , new ribbons to your pumps ; meet presently at the palace ; every man look o'er his part ; for the short and the long is , our play is preferred . In any case , let Thisby have clean linen ; and let not him that plays the lion pare his nails , for they shall hang out for the lion's claws . And , most dear actors , eat no onions nor garlic , for we are to utter sweet breath , and I do not doubt but to hear them say , it is a sweet comedy . No more words : away ! go ; away .
+
+'Tis strange , my Theseus , that these lovers speak of .
+
+More strange than true . I never may believe
+These antique fables , nor these fairy toys .
+Lovers and madmen have such seething brains ,
+Such shaping fantasies , that apprehend
+More than cool reason ever comprehends .
+The lunatic , the lover , and the poet ,
+Are of imagination all compact :
+One sees more devils than vast hell can hold ,
+That is , the madman ; the lover , all as frantic ,
+Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt :
+The poet's eye , in a fine frenzy rolling ,
+Doth glance from heaven to earth , from earth to heaven ;
+And , as imagination bodies forth
+The forms of things unknown , the poet's pen
+Turns them to shapes , and gives to airy nothing
+A local habitation and a name .
+Such tricks hath strong imagination ,
+That , if it would but apprehend some joy ,
+It comprehends some bringer of that joy ;
+Or in the night , imagining some fear ,
+How easy is a bush suppos'd a bear !
+
+But all the story of the night told over ,
+And all their minds transfigur'd so together ,
+More witnesseth than fancy's images ,
+And grows to something of great constancy ,
+But , howsoever , strange and admirable .
+
+Here come the lovers , full of joy and mirth .
+
+
+Joy , gentle friends ! joy , and fresh days of love
+
+Accompany your hearts !
+
+More than to us
+Wait in your royal walks , your board , your bed !
+
+Come now ; what masques , what dances shall we have ,
+To wear away this long age of three hours
+Between our after-supper and bed-time ?
+Where is our usual manager of mirth ?
+What revels are in hand ? Is there no play ,
+To ease the anguish of a torturing hour ?
+Call Philostrate .
+
+Here , mighty Theseus .
+
+Say , what abridgment have you for this evening ?
+What masque ? what music ? How shall we beguile
+The lazy time , if not with some delight ?
+
+There is a brief how many sports are ripe ;
+Make choice of which your highness will see first .
+
+
+The battle with the Centaurs , to be sung
+By an Athenian eunuch to the harp .
+We'll none of that : that have I told my love ,
+In glory of my kinsman Hercules .
+The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals ,
+Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage .
+That is an old device ; and it was play'd
+When I from Thebes came last a conqueror .
+The thrice three Muses mourning for the death
+Of Learning , late deceas'd in beggary .
+That is some satire keen and critical ,
+Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony .
+A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus
+And his love Thisbe ; very tragical mirth .
+Merry and tragical ! tedious and brief !
+That is , hot ice and wonderous strange snow .
+How shall we find the concord of this discord ?
+
+A play there is , my lord , some ten words long ,
+Which is as brief as I have known a play ;
+But by ten words , my lord , it is too long ,
+Which makes it tedious ; for in all the play
+There is not one word apt , one player fitted .
+And tragical , my noble lord , it is ;
+For Pyramus therein doth kill himself .
+Which when I saw rehears'd , I must confess ,
+Made mine eyes water ; but more merry tears
+The passion of loud laughter never shed .
+
+What are they that do play it ?
+
+Hard-handed men , that work in Athens here ,
+Which never labour'd in their minds till now ,
+And now have toil'd their unbreath'd memories
+With this same play , against your nuptial .
+
+And we will hear it .
+
+No , my noble lord ;
+It is not for you : I have heard it over ,
+And it is nothing , nothing in the world ;
+Unless you can find sport in their intents ,
+Extremely stretch'd and conn'd with cruel pain ,
+To do you service .
+
+I will hear that play ;
+For never anything can be amiss ,
+When simpleness and duty tender it .
+Go , bring them in : and take your places , ladies .
+
+
+I love not to see wretchedness o'ercharg'd ,
+And duty in his service perishing .
+
+Why , gentle sweet , you shall see no such thing .
+
+He says they can do nothing in this kind .
+
+The kinder we , to give them thanks for nothing .
+Our sport shall be to take what they mistake :
+And what poor duty cannot do , noble respect
+Takes it in might , not merit .
+Where I have come , great clerks have purposed
+To greet me with premeditated welcomes ;
+Where I have seen them shiver and look pale ,
+Make periods in the midst of sentences ,
+Throttle their practis'd accent in their fears ,
+And , in conclusion , dumbly have broke off ,
+Not paying me a welcome . Trust me , sweet ,
+Out of this silence yet I pick'd a welcome ;
+And in the modesty of fearful duty
+I read as much as from the rattling tongue
+Of saucy and audacious eloquence .
+Love , therefore , and tongue-tied simplicity
+In least speak most , to my capacity .
+
+
+So please your Grace , the Prologue is address'd .
+
+Let him approach .
+
+
+If we offend , it is with our good will .
+That you should think , we come not to offend ,
+But with good will . To show our simple skill ,
+That is the true beginning of our end .
+Consider then we come but in despite .
+We do not come as minding to content you ,
+Our true intent is . All for your delight ,
+We are not here . That you should here repent you ,
+The actors are at hand ; and , by their show ,
+You shall know all that you are like to know .
+
+
+This fellow doth not stand upon points .
+
+He hath rid his prologue like a rough colt ; he knows not the stop . A good moral , my lord : it is not enough to speak , but to speak true .
+
+Indeed he hath played on his prologue like a child on a recorder ; a sound , but not in government .
+
+His speech was like a tangled chain ; nothing impaired , but all disordered . Who is next ?
+
+
+Gentles , perchance you wonder at this show ;
+But wonder on , till truth make all things plain .
+This man is Pyramus , if you would know ;
+This beauteous lady Thisby is , certain .
+This man , with lime and rough-cast , doth present
+Wall , that vile Wall which did these lovers sunder ;
+And through Wall's chink , poor souls , they are content
+To whisper , at the which let no man wonder .
+This man , with lanthorn , dog , and bush of thorn ,
+Presenteth Moonshine ; for , if you will know ,
+By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn
+To meet at Ninus' tomb , there , there to woo .
+This grisly beast , which Lion hight by name ,
+The trusty Thisby , coming first by night ,
+Did scare away , or rather did affright ;
+And , as she fied , her mantle she did fall ,
+Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain .
+Anon comes Pyramus , sweet youth and tall ,
+And finds his trusty Thisby's mantle slain :
+Whereat , with blade , with bloody blameful blade ,
+He bravely broach'd his boiling bloody breast ;
+And Thisby , tarrying in mulberry shade ,
+His dagger drew , and died . For all the rest ,
+Let Lion , Moonshine , Wall , and lovers twain ,
+At large discourse , while here they do remain .
+
+
+I wonder , if the lion be to speak .
+
+No wonder , my lord : one lion may , when many asses do .
+Wall . In this same interlude it doth befall
+That I , one Snout by name , present a wall ;
+And such a wall , as I would have you think ,
+That had in it a crannied hole or chink ,
+Through which the lovers , Pyramus and Thisby ,
+Did whisper often very secretly .
+This loam , this rough-cast , and this stone doth show
+That I am that same wall ; the truth is so ;
+And this the cranny is , right and sinister ,
+Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper .
+
+Would you desire lime and hair to speak better ?
+
+It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard discourse , my lord .
+
+Pyramus draws near the wall : silence !
+
+
+O grim-look'd night ! O night with hue so black !
+O night , which ever art when day is not !
+O night ! O night ! alack , alack , alack !
+I fear my Thisby's promise is forgot .
+And thou , O wall ! O sweet , O lovely wall !
+That stand'st between her father's ground and mine ;
+Thou wall , O wall ! O sweet , and lovely wall !
+Show me thy chink to blink through with mine eyne .
+
+Thanks , courteous wall : Jove shield thee well for this !
+But what see I ? No Thisby do I see .
+O wicked wall ! through whom I see no bliss ;
+Curs'd be thy stones for thus deceiving me !
+
+The wall , methinks , being sensible , should curse again .
+
+No , in truth , sir , he should not . 'Deceiving me ,' is Thisby's cue : she is to enter now , and I am to spy her through the wall . You shall see , it will fall pat as I told you . Yonder she comes .
+
+
+O wall ! full often hast thou heard my moans ,
+For parting my fair Pyramus and me :
+My cherry lips have often kiss'd thy stones ,
+Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee .
+
+I see a voice : now will I to the chink ,
+To spy an I can hear my Thisby's face .
+Thisby .
+
+My love ! thou art my love , I think .
+
+Think what thou wilt , I am thy lover's grace ;
+And , like Limander , am I trusty still .
+
+And I like Helen , till the Fates me kill .
+
+Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true .
+
+As Shafalus to Procrus , I to you .
+
+O ! kiss me through the hole of this vile wall .
+
+I kiss the wall's hole , not your lips at all
+
+Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straightway ?
+
+'Tide life , 'tide death , I come without delay .
+
+
+Thus have I , Wall , my part discharged so ;
+And , being done , thus Wall away doth go .
+
+
+Now is the mural down between the two neighbours .
+
+No remedy , my lord , when walls are so wilful to hear without warning .
+
+This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard .
+
+The best in this kind are but shadows , and the worst are no worse , if imagination amend them .
+
+It must be your imagination then , and not theirs .
+
+If we imagine no worse of them than they of themselves , they may pass for excellent men . Here come two noble beasts in , a man and a lion .
+
+
+You , ladies , you , whose gentle hearts do fear
+The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor ,
+May now perchance both quake and tremble here ,
+When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar .
+Then know that I , one Snug the joiner , am
+A lion-fell , nor else no lion's dam :
+For , if I should as lion come in strife
+Into this place , 'twere pity on my life .
+
+A very gentle beast , and of a good conscience .
+
+The very best at a beast , my lord , that e'er I saw .
+
+This lion is a very fox for his valour .
+
+True ; and a goose for his discretion .
+
+Not so , my lord ; for his valour cannot carry his discretion , and the fox carries the goose .
+
+His discretion , I am sure , cannot carry his valour , for the goose carries not the fox . It is well : leave it to his discretion , and let us listen to the moon .
+
+This lanthorn doth the horned moon present ;
+
+He should have worn the horns on his head .
+
+He is no crescent , and his horns are invisible within the circumference .
+
+This lanthorn doth the horned moon present ;
+Myself the man i' the moon do seem to be .
+
+This is the greatest error of all the rest .
+The man should be put into the lanthorn : how is it else the man i' the moon ?
+
+He dares not come there for the candle ; for , you see , it is already in snuff .
+
+I am aweary of this moon : would he would change !
+
+It appears , by his small light of discretion , that he is in the wane ; but yet , in courtesy , in all reason , we must stay the time .
+
+Proceed , Moon .
+
+All that I have to say , is , to tell you that the lanthorn is the moon ; I , the man in the moon ; this thorn-bush , my thorn-bush ; and this dog , my dog .
+
+Why , all these should be in the lanthorn ; for all these are in the moon . But , silence ! here comes Thisbe .
+
+
+This is old Ninny's tomb . Where is my love ?
+
+Oh .
+
+
+Well roared , Lion .
+
+Well run , Thisbe .
+
+Well shone , Moon . Truly , the moon shines with a good grace .
+
+
+Well moused , Lion .
+
+And then came Pyramus .
+
+And so the lion vanished .
+
+
+Sweet moon , I thank thee for thy sunny beams ;
+I thank thee , moon , for shining now so bright ,
+For , by thy gracious , golden , glittering streams ,
+I trust to taste of truest Thisby's sight .
+
+But stay , O spite !
+But mark , poor knight ,
+What dreadful dole is here !
+Eyes , do you see ?
+How can it be ?
+O dainty duck ! O dear !
+Thy mantle good ,
+What ! stain'd with blood !
+Approach , ye Furies fell !
+O Fates , come , come ,
+Cut thread and thrum ;
+Quail , crush , conclude , and quell !
+
+
+This passion , and the death of a dear friend , would go near to make a man look sad .
+
+Beshrew my heart , but I pity the man .
+
+O ! wherefore , Nature , didst thou lions frame ?
+Since lion vile hath here deflower'd my dear ?
+Which is no , no which was the fairest dame
+That liv'd , that lov'd , that lik'd , that look'd with cheer .
+
+
+Come tears , confound ;
+Out , sword , and wound
+The pap of Pyramus :
+Ay , that left pap ,
+Where heart doth hop :
+Thus die I , thus , thus , thus .
+
+Now am I dead ,
+Now am I fled ;
+My soul is in the sky :
+Tongue , lose thy light !
+Moon , take thy flight !
+
+Now die , die , die , die , die .
+
+No die , but an ace , for him ; for he is but one .
+
+Less than an ace , man , for he is dead ; he is nothing .
+
+With the help of a surgeon , he might yet recover , and prove an ass .
+
+How chance Moonshine is gone before Thisbe comes back and finds her lover ?
+
+She will find him by starlight . Here she comes ; and her passion ends the play .
+
+
+Methinks she should not use a long one for such a Pyramus : I hope she will be brief .
+
+A mote will turn the balance , which Pyramus , which Thisbe , is the better : he for a man , God warrant us ; she for a woman , God bless us .
+
+She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes .
+
+And thus she moans , videlicet :
+
+
+Asleep , my love ?
+What , dead , my dove ?
+O Pyramus , arise !
+Speak , speak ! Quite dumb ?
+Dead , dead ! A tomb
+Must cover thy sweet eyes .
+These lily lips ,
+This cherry nose ,
+These yellow cowslip cheeks ,
+Are gone , are gone :
+Lovers , make moan !
+His eyes were green as leeks .
+O , Sisters Three ,
+Come , come to me ,
+With hands as pale as milk ;
+Lay them in gore ,
+Since you have shore
+With shears his thread of silk .
+Tongue , not a word :
+Come , trusty sword :
+Come , blade , my breast imbrue :
+
+And farewell , friends ;
+Thus Thisby ends :
+Adieu , adieu , adieu .
+
+Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead .
+
+Ay , and Wall too .
+
+No , I assure you ; the wall is down that parted their fathers . Will it please you to see the epilogue , or to hear a Bergomask dance between two of our company ?
+
+No epilogue , I pray you ; for your play needs no excuse . Never excuse ; for when the players are all dead , there need none to be blamed . Marry , if he that writ it had played Pyramus , and hanged himself in Thisbe's garter , it would have been a fine tragedy : and so it is , truly , and very notably discharged . But come , your Bergomask : let your epilogue alone .
+
+The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve ;
+Lovers , to bed ; 'tis almost fairy time .
+I fear we shall out-sleep the coming morn ,
+As much as we this night have overwatch'd .
+This palpable-gross play hath well beguil'd
+The heavy gait of night . Sweet friends , to bed .
+A fortnight hold we this solemnity ,
+In nightly revels , and new jollity .
+
+Now the hungry lion roars ,
+And the wolf behowls the moon ;
+Whilst the heavy ploughman snores ,
+All with weary task fordone .
+Now the wasted brands do glow ,
+Whilst the screech-owl , screeching loud ,
+Puts the wretch that lies in woe
+In remembrance of a shroud .
+Now it is the time of night
+That the graves , all gaping wide ,
+Every one lets forth his sprite ,
+In the church-way paths to glide :
+And we fairies , that do run
+By the triple Hecate's team ,
+From the presence of the sun ,
+Following darkness like a dream ,
+Now are frolic ; not a mouse
+Shall disturb this hallow'd house :
+I am sent with broom before ,
+To sweep the dust behind the door .
+
+
+Through the house give glimmering light
+By the dead and drowsy fire ;
+Every elf and fairy sprite
+Hop as light as bird from brier ;
+And this ditty after me
+Sing and dance it trippingly .
+
+First , rehearse your song by rote ,
+To each word a warbling note :
+Hand in hand , with fairy grace ,
+Will we sing , and bless this place .
+
+
+Now , until the break of day ,
+Through this house each fairy stray .
+To the best bride-bed will we ,
+Which by us shall blessed be ;
+And the issue there create
+Ever shall be fortunate .
+So shall all the couples three
+Ever true in loving be ;
+And the blots of Nature's hand
+Shall not in their issue stand :
+Never mole , hare-lip , nor scar ,
+Nor mark prodigious , such as are
+Despised in nativity ,
+Shall upon their children be .
+With this field-dew consecrate ,
+Every fairy take his gait ,
+And each several chamber bless ,
+Through this palace , with sweet peace ;
+Ever shall in safety rest ,
+And the owner of it blest .
+Trip away ;
+Make no stay ;
+Meet me all by break of day .
+
+
+If we shadows have offended ,
+Think but this , and all is mended ,
+That you have but slumber'd here
+While these visions did appear .
+And this weak and idle theme ,
+No more yielding but a dream ,
+Gentles , do not reprehend :
+If you pardon , we will mend .
+And , as I'm an honest Puck ,
+If we have unearned luck
+Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue ,
+We will make amends ere long ;
+Else the Puck a liar call :
+So , good night unto you all .
+Give me your hands , if we be friends ,
+And Robin shall restore amends .
+
+ALLS WELL THAT ENDS WELL
+
+In delivering my son from me , I bury a second husband .
+
+And I , in going , madam , weep o'er my father's death anew ; but I must attend his majesty's command , to whom I am now in ward , evermore in subjection .
+
+You shall find of the king a husband , madam ; you , sir , a father . He that so generally is at all times good , must of necessity hold his virtue to you , whose worthiness would stir it up where it wanted rather than lack it where there is such abundance .
+
+What hope is there of his majesty's amendment ?
+
+He hath abandoned his physicians , madam ; under whose practices he hath persecuted time with hope , and finds no other advantage in the process but only the losing of hope by time .
+
+This young gentlewoman had a father ,O , that 'had !' how sad a passage 'tis !whose skill was almost as great as his honesty ; had it stretched so far , would have made nature immortal , and death should have play for lack of work . Would , for the king's sake , he were living ! I think it would be the death of the king's disease .
+
+How called you the man you speak of , madam ?
+
+He was famous , sir , in his profession , and it was his great right to be so : Gerard de Narbon .
+
+He was excellent indeed , madam : the king very lately spoke of him admiringly and mourningly . He was skilful enough to have lived still , if knowledge could be set up against mortality .
+
+What is it , my good lord , the king languishes of ?
+
+A fistula , my lord .
+
+I heard not of it before .
+
+I would it were not notorious . Was this gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon ?
+
+His sole child , my lord ; and bequeathed to my overlooking . I have those hopes of her good that her education promises : her dispositions she inherits , which makes fair gifts fairer ; for where an unclean mind carries virtuous qualities , there commendations go with pity ; they are virtues and traitors too : in her they are the better for their simpleness ; she derives her honesty and achieves her goodness .
+
+Your commendations , madam , get from her tears .
+
+'Tis the best brine a maiden can season her praise in . The remembrance of her father never approaches her heart but the tyranny of her sorrows takes all livelihood from her cheek . No more of this , Helena , go to , no more ; lest it be rather thought you affect a sorrow , than have it .
+
+I do affect a sorrow indeed , but I have it too .
+
+Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead , excessive grief the enemy to the living .
+
+If the living be enemy to the grief , the excess makes it soon mortal .
+
+Madam , I desire your holy wishes .
+
+How understand we that ?
+
+Be thou blest , Bertram ; and succeed thy father
+In manners , as in shape ! thy blood and virtue
+Contend for empire in thee ; and thy goodness
+Share with thy birthright ! Love all , trust a few ,
+Do wrong to none : be able for thine enemy
+Rather in power than use , and keep thy friend
+Under thy own life's key : be check'd for silence ,
+But never tax'd for speech . What heaven more will
+That thee may furnish , and my prayers pluck down ,
+Fall on thy head ! Farewell , my lord ;
+'Tis an unseason'd courtier ; good my lord ,
+Advise him .
+
+He cannot want the best
+That shall attend his love .
+
+Heaven bless him ! Farewell , Bertram .
+
+
+The best wishes that can be forged in your thoughts be servants to you ! Be comfortable to my mother , your mistress , and make much of her .
+
+Farewell , pretty lady : you must hold the credit of your father .
+
+
+O ! were that all . I think not on my father ;
+And these great tears grace his remembrance more
+Than those I shed for him . What was he like ?
+I have forgot him : my imagination
+Carries no favour in't but Bertram's .
+I am undone : there is no living , none ,
+If Bertram be away . It were all one
+That I should love a bright particular star
+And think to wed it , he is so above me :
+In his bright radiance and collateral light
+Must I be comforted , not in his sphere .
+The ambition in my love thus plagues itself :
+The hind that would be mated by the lion
+Must die for love . 'Twas pretty , though a plague ,
+To see him every hour ; to sit and draw
+His arched brows , his hawking eye , his curls ,
+In our heart's table ; heart too capable
+Of every line and trick of his sweet favour :
+But now he's gone , and my idolatrous fancy
+Must sanctify his reliques . Who comes here ?
+One that goes with him : I love him for his sake ;
+And yet I know him a notorious liar ,
+Think him a great way fool , solely a coward ;
+Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him ,
+That they take place , when virtue's steely bones
+Look bleak in the cold wind : withal , full oft we see
+Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly .
+
+
+Save you , fair queen !
+
+And you , monarch !
+
+No .
+
+And no .
+
+Are you meditating on virginity ?
+
+Ay . You have some stain of soldier in you ; let me ask you a question . Man is enemy to virginity ; how may we barricado it against him ?
+
+Keep him out .
+
+But he assails ; and our virginity , though valiant in the defence , yet is weak . Unfold to us some war-like resistance .
+
+There is none : man , sitting down before you , will undermine you and blow you up .
+
+Bless our poor virginity from underminers and blowers up ! Is there no military policy , how virgins might blow up men ?
+
+Virginity being blown down , man will quicklier be blown up : marry in blowing him down again , with the breach yourselves made , you lose your city . It is not politic in the commonwealth of nature to preserve virginity . Loss of virginity is rational increase , and there was never virgin got till virginity was first lost . That you were made of is metal to make virgins . Virginity , by being once lost , may be ten times found : by being ever kept , it is ever lost .'Tis too cold a companion : away with't !
+
+I will stand for't a little , though therefore I die a virgin .
+
+There's little can be said in't ; 'tis against the rule of nature . To speak on the part of virginity is to accuse your mothers , which is most infallible disobedience . He that hangs himself is a virgin : virginity murders itself , and should be buried in highways , out of all sanctified limit , as a desperate offendress against nature . Virginity breeds mites , much like a cheese , consumes itself to the very paring , and so dies with feeding his own stomach . Besides , virginity is peevish , proud , idle , made of self-love , which is the most inhibited sin in the canon . Keep it not ; you cannot choose but lose by't ! Out with't ! within the year it will make itself two , which is a goodly increase , and the principal itself not much the worse . Away with't !
+
+How might one do , sir , to lose it to her own liking ?
+
+Let me see : marry , ill , to like him that ne'er it likes . 'Tis a commodity that will lose the gloss with lying ; the longer kept , the less worth : off with't , while 'tis vendible ; answer the time of request . Virginity , like an old courtier , wears her cap out of fashion ; richly suited , but unsuitable : just like the brooch and the toothpick , which wear not now . Your date is better in your pie and your porridge than in your cheek : and your virginity , your old virginity , is like one of our French withered pears ; it looks ill , it eats drily ; marry , 'tis a withered pear ; it was formerly better ; marry , yet 'tis a withered pear . Will you anything with it ?
+
+Not my virginity yet .
+There shall your master have a thousand loves ,
+A mother , and a mistress , and a friend ,
+A ph nix , captain , and an enemy ,
+A guide , a goddess , and a sovereign ,
+A counsellor , a traitress , and a dear ;
+His humble ambition , proud humility ,
+His jarring concord , and his discord dulcet ,
+His faith , his sweet disaster ; with a world
+Of pretty , fond , adoptious christendoms ,
+That blinking Cupid gossips . Now shall he
+I know not what he shall . God send him well !
+The court's a learning-place , and he is one
+
+What one , i' faith ?
+
+That I wish well . 'Tis pity
+
+What's pity ?
+
+That wishing well had not a body in't ,
+Which might be felt ; that we , the poorer born ,
+Whose baser stars do shut us up in wishes ,
+Might with effects of them follow our friends ,
+And show what we alone must think , which never
+Returns us thanks .
+
+
+Monsieur Parolles , my lord calls for you .
+
+
+Little Helen , farewell : if I can remember thee , I will think of thee at court .
+
+Monsieur Parolles , you were born under a charitable star .
+
+Under Mars , I .
+
+I especially think , under Mars .
+
+Why under Mars ?
+
+The wars have so kept you under that you must needs be born under Mars .
+
+When he was predominant .
+
+When he was retrograde , I think rather .
+
+Why think you so ?
+
+You go so much backward when you fight .
+
+That's for advantage .
+
+So is running away , when fear proposes the safety : but the composition that your valour and fear makes in you is a virtue of a good wing , and I like the wear well .
+
+I am so full of businesses I cannot answer thee acutely . I will return perfect courtier ; in the which , my instruction shall serve to naturalize thee , so thou wilt be capable of a courtier's counsel , and understand what advice shall thrust upon thee ; else thou diest in thine unthankfulness , and thine ignorance makes thee away : farewell . When thou hast leisure , say thy prayers ; when thou hast none , remember thy friends . Get thee a good husband , and use him as he uses thee : so , farewell .
+
+
+Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie
+Which we ascribe to heaven : the fated sky
+Gives us free scope ; only doth backward pull
+Our slow designs when we ourselves are dull .
+What power is it which mounts my love so high ;
+That makes me see , and cannot feed mine eye ?
+The mightiest space in fortune nature brings
+To join like likes , and kiss like native things .
+Impossible be strange attempts to those
+That weigh their pains in sense , and do suppose
+What hath been cannot be : who ever strove
+To show her merit , that did miss her love ?
+The king's disease ,my project may deceive me ,
+But my intents are fix'd and will not leave me .
+
+
+The Florentines and Senoys are by the ears ;
+Have fought with equal fortune , and continue
+A braving war .
+
+So 'tis reported , sir .
+
+Nay , 'tis most credible : we here receive it
+A certainty , vouch'd from our cousin Austria ,
+With caution that the Florentine will move us
+For speedy aid ; wherein our dearest friend
+Prejudicates the business , and would seem
+To have us make denial .
+
+His love and wisdom ,
+Approv'd so to your majesty , may plead
+For amplest credence .
+
+He hath arm'd our answer ,
+And Florence is denied before he comes :
+Yet , for our gentlemen that mean to see
+The Tuscan service , freely have they leave
+To stand on either part .
+
+It well may serve
+A nursery to our gentry , who are sick
+For breathing and exploit .
+
+What's he comes here ?
+
+
+It is the Count Rousillon , my good lord ,
+Young Betram .
+
+Youth , thou bear'st thy father's face ;
+Frank nature , rather curious than in haste ,
+Hath well compos'd thee . Thy father's moral parts
+Mayst thou inherit too ! Welcome to Paris .
+
+My thanks and duty are your majesty's .
+
+I would I had that corporal soundness now ,
+As when thy father and myself in friendship
+First tried our soldiership ! He did look far
+Into the service of the time and was
+Discipled of the bravest : he lasted long ;
+But on us both did haggish age steal on ,
+And wore us out of act . It much repairs me
+To talk of your good father . In his youth
+He had the wit which I can well observe
+To-day in our young lords ; but they may jest
+Till their own scorn return to them unnoted
+Ere they can hide their levity in honour .
+So like a courtier , contempt nor bitterness
+Were in his pride or sharpness ; if they were ,
+His equal had awak'd them ; and his honour ,
+Clock to itself , knew the true minute when
+Exception bid him speak , and at this time
+His tongue obey'd his hand : who were below him
+He us'd as creatures of another place ,
+And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks ,
+Making them proud of his humility ,
+In their poor praise he humbled . Such a man
+Might be a copy to these younger times ,
+Which , follow'd well , would demonstrate them now
+But goers backward .
+
+His good remembrance , sir ,
+Lies richer in your thoughts than on his tomb ;
+So in approof lives not his epitaph
+As in your royal speech .
+
+Would I were with him ! He would always say ,
+Methinks I hear him now : his plausive words
+He scatter'd not in ears , but grafted them ,
+To grow there and to bear . 'Let me not live ,'
+Thus his good melancholy oft began ,
+On the catastrophe and heel of pastime ,
+When it was out ,'Let me not live ,' quoth he ,
+'After my flame lacks oil , to be the snuff
+Of younger spirits , whose apprehensive senses
+All but new things disdain ; whose judgments are
+Mere fathers of their garments ; whose constancies
+Expire before their fashions .' This he wish'd :
+I , after him , do after him wish too ,
+Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home ,
+I quickly were dissolved from my hive ,
+To give some labourers room .
+
+You are lov'd , sir ;
+They that least lend it you shall lack you first .
+
+I fill a place , I know't . How long is't , count ,
+Since the physician at your father's died ?
+He was much fam'd .
+
+Some six months since , my lord .
+
+If he were living , I would try him yet :
+Lend me an arm : the rest have worn me out
+With several applications : nature and sickness
+Debate it at their leisure . Welcome , count ;
+My son's no dearer .
+
+Thank your majesty .
+
+
+I will now hear : what say you of this gentlewoman ?
+
+Madam , the care I have had to even your content , I wish might be found in the calendar of my past endeavours ; for then we wound our modesty and make foul the clearness of our deservings , when of ourselves we publish them .
+
+What does this knave here ? Get you gone , sirrah : the complaints I have heard of you I do not all believe : 'tis my slowness that I do not ; for I know you lack not folly to commit them , and have ability enough to make such knaveries yours .
+
+'Tis not unknown to you , madam , I am a poor fellow .
+
+Well , sir .
+
+No , madam , 'tis not so well that I am poor , though many of the rich are damned . But , if I may have your ladyship's good will to go to the world , Isbel the woman and I will do as we may .
+
+Wilt thou needs be a beggar ?
+
+I do beg your good will in this case .
+
+In what case ?
+
+In Isbel's case and mine own . Service is no heritage ; and I think I shall never have the blessing of God till I have issue o' my body , for they say barnes are blessings .
+
+Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry .
+
+My poor body , madam , requires it : I am driven on by the flesh ; and he must needs go that the devil drives .
+
+Is this all your worship's reason ?
+
+Faith , madam , I have other holy reasons , such as they are .
+
+May the world know them ?
+
+I have been , madam , a wicked creature , as you and all flesh and blood are ; and , indeed , I do marry that I may repent .
+
+Thy marriage , sooner than thy wickedness .
+
+I am out o' friends , madam ; and I hope to have friends for my wife's sake .
+
+Such friends are thine enemies , knave .
+
+You're shallow , madam , in great friends ; for the knaves come to do that for me which I am aweary of . He that ears my land spares my team , and gives me leave to in the crop : if I be his cuckold , he's my drudge . He that comforts my wife is the cherisher of my flesh and blood ; he that cherishes my flesh and blood loves my flesh and blood ; he that loves my flesh and blood is my friend : ergo , he that kisses my wife is my friend . If men could be contented to be what they are , there were no fear in marriage ; for young Charbon the puritan , and old Poysam the papist , howsome'er their hearts are severed in religion , their heads are both one ; they may joul horns together like any deer i' the herd .
+
+Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and calumnious knave ?
+
+A prophet I , madam ; and I speak the truth the next way :
+
+For I the ballad will repeat ,
+Which men full true shall find ;
+Your marriage comes by destiny ,
+Your cuckoo sings by kind .
+
+
+Get you gone , sir : I'll talk with you more anon .
+
+May it please you , madam , that he bid Helen come to you : of her I am to speak .
+
+Sirrah , tell my gentlewoman I would speak with her ; Helen I mean .
+
+
+Was this fair face the cause , quoth she ,
+Why the Grecians sacked Troy ?
+Fond done , done fond ,
+Was this King Priam's joy ?
+With that she sighed as she stood ,
+With that she sighed as she stood ,
+And gave this sentence then ;
+Among nine bad if one be good ,
+Among nine bad if one be good ,
+There's yet one good in ten .
+
+
+What ! one good in ten ? you corrupt the song , sirrah .
+
+One good woman in ten , madam ; which is a purifying o' the song . Would God would serve the world so all the year ! we'd find no fault with the tithe-woman if I were the parson . One in ten , quoth a' ! An we might have a good woman born but for every blazing star , or at an earthquake ,'twould mend the lottery well : a man may draw his heart out ere a' pluck one .
+
+You'll be gone , sir knave , and do as I command you !
+
+That man should be at woman's command , and yet no hurt done ! Though honesty be no puritan , yet it will do no hurt ; it will wear the surplice of humility over the black gown of a big heart . I am going , forsooth : the business is for Helen to come hither .
+
+
+Well , now .
+
+I know , madam , you love your gentlewoman entirely .
+
+Faith , I do : her father bequeathed her to me ; and she herself , without other advantage , may lawfully make title to as much love as she finds : there is more owing her than is paid , and more shall be paid her than she'll demand .
+
+Madam , I was very late more near her than I think she wished me : alone she was , and did communicate to herself her own words to her own ears ; she thought , I dare vow for her , they touched not any stranger sense . Her matter was , she loved your son : Fortune , she said , was no goddess , that had put such difference betwixt their two estates ; Love no god , that would not extend his might , only where qualities were level ; Dian no queen of virgins , that would suffer her poor knight surprised , without rescue in the first assault or ransom afterward . This she delivered in the most bitter touch of sorrow that e'er I heard virgin exclaim in ; which I held my duty speedily to acquaint you withal , sithence in the loss that may happen , it concerns you something to know it .
+
+You have discharged this honestly : keep it to yourself . Many likelihoods informed me of this before , which hung so tottering in the balance that I could neither believe nor misdoubt . Pray you , leave me : stall this in your bosom ; and I thank you for your honest care . I will speak with you further anon .
+
+Even so it was with me when I was young :
+If ever we are nature's , these are ours ; this thorn
+Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong ;
+Our blood to us , this to our blood is born :
+It is the show and seal of nature's truth ,
+Where love's strong passion is impress'd in youth :
+By our remembrances of days foregone ,
+Such were our faults ; or then we thought them none .
+
+Her eye is sick on't : I observe her now .
+
+What is your pleasure , madam ?
+
+You know , Helen ,
+I am a mother to you .
+
+Mine honourable mistress .
+
+Nay , a mother :
+Why not a mother ? When I said , 'a mother ,'
+Methought you saw a serpent : what's in 'mother'
+That you start at it ? I say , I am your mother ;
+And put you in the catalogue of those
+That were enwombed mine : 'tis often seen
+Adoption strives with nature , and choice breeds
+A native slip to us from foreign seeds ;
+You ne'er oppress'd me with a mother's groan ,
+Yet I express to you a mother's care .
+God's mercy , maiden ! does it curd thy blood
+To say I am thy mother ? What's the matter ,
+That this distemper'd messenger of wet ,
+The many-colour'd Iris , rounds thine eye ?
+Why ? that you are my daughter ?
+
+That I am not .
+
+I say , I am your mother .
+
+Pardon , madam ;
+The Count Rousillon cannot be my brother :
+I am from humble , he from honour'd name ;
+No note upon my parents , his all noble :
+My master , my dear lord he is ; and I
+His servant live , and will his vassal die .
+He must not be my brother .
+
+Nor I your mother ?
+
+You are my mother , madam : would you were ,
+So that my lord your son were not my brother ,
+Indeed my mother ! or were you both our mothers ,
+I care no more for than I do for heaven ,
+So I were not his sister . Can't no other ,
+But , I your daughter , he must be my brother ?
+
+Yes , Helen , you might be my daughter-in-law :
+God shield you mean it not ! daughter and mother
+So strive upon your pulse . What , pale again ?
+My fear hath catch'd your fondness : now I see
+The mystery of your loneliness , and find
+Your salt tears' head : now to all sense 'tis gross
+You love my son : invention is asham'd ,
+Against the proclamation of thy passion ,
+To say thou dost not : therefore tell me true ;
+But tell me then , 'tis so ; for , look , thy cheeks
+Confess it , th' one to th' other ; and thine eyes
+See it so grossly shown in thy behaviours
+That in their kind they speak it : only sin
+And hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue ,
+That truth should be suspected . Speak , is't so ?
+If it be so , you have wound a goodly clew ;
+If it be not , forswear't : howe'er , I charge thee ,
+As heaven shall work in me for thine avail ,
+To tell me truly .
+
+Good madam , pardon me !
+
+Do you love my son ?
+
+Your pardon , noble mistress !
+
+Love you my son ?
+
+Do not you love him , madam ?
+
+Go not about ; my love hath in't a bond
+Whereof the world takes note : come , come , disclose
+The state of your affection , for your passions
+Have to the full appeach'd .
+
+Then , I confess ,
+Here on my knee , before high heaven and you
+That before you , and next unto high heaven ,
+I love your son .
+My friends were poor , but honest ; so's my love :
+Be not offended , for it hurts not him
+That he is lov'd of me : I follow him not
+By any token of presumptuous suit ;
+Nor would I have him till I do deserve him ;
+Yet never know how that desert should be .
+I know I love in vain , strive against hope ;
+Yet , in this captious and intenible sieve
+I still pour in the waters of my love ,
+And lack not to lose still . Thus , Indian-like ,
+Religious in mine error , I adore
+The sun , that looks upon his worshipper ,
+But knows of him no more . My dearest madam ,
+Let not your hate encounter with my love
+For loving where you do : but , if yourself ,
+Whose aged honour cites a virtuous youth ,
+Did ever in so true a flame of liking
+Wish chastely and love dearly , that your Dian
+Was both herself and Love ; O ! then , give pity
+To her , whose state is such that cannot choose
+But lend and give where she is sure to lose ;
+That seeks not to find that her search implies ,
+But , riddle-like , lives sweetly where she dies .
+
+Had you not lately an intent , speak truly ,
+To go to Paris ?
+
+Madam , I had .
+
+Wherefore ? tell true .
+
+I will tell truth ; by grace itself I swear .
+You know my father left me some prescriptions
+Of rare and prov'd effects , such as his reading
+And manifest experience had collected
+For general sovereignty ; and that he will'd me
+In heedfull'st reservation to bestow them ,
+As notes whose faculties inclusive were
+More than they were in note . Amongst the rest ,
+There is a remedy , approv'd , set down
+To cure the desperate languishings whereof
+The king is render'd lost .
+
+This was your motive
+For Paris , was it ? speak .
+
+My lord your son made me to think of this ;
+Else Paris , and the medicine , and the king ,
+Had from the conversation of my thoughts
+Haply been absent then .
+
+But think you , Helen ,
+If you should tender your supposed aid ,
+He would receive it ? He and his physicians
+Are of a mind ; he , that they cannot help him ,
+They , that they cannot help . How shall they credit
+A poor unlearned virgin , when the schools ,
+Embowell'd of their doctrine , have left off
+The danger to itself ?
+
+There's something in't ,
+More than my father's skill , which was the great'st
+Of his profession , that his good receipt
+Shall for my legacy be sanctified
+By the luckiest stars in heaven : and , would your honour
+But give me leave to try success , I'd venture
+The well-lost life of mine on his Grace's cure ,
+By such a day , and hour .
+
+Dost thou believe't ?
+
+Ay , madam , knowingly .
+
+Why , Helen , thou shalt have my leave and love ,
+Means , and attendants , and my loving greetings
+To those of mine in court . I'll stay at home
+And pray God's blessing into thy attempt .
+Be gone to-morrow ; and be sure of this ,
+What I can help thee to thou shalt not miss .
+
+
+Farewell , young lords : these war-like principles
+Do not throw from you : and you , my lords , farewell :
+Share the advice betwixt you ; if both gain , all
+The gift doth stretch itself as 'tis receiv'd ,
+And is enough for both .
+
+'Tis our hope , sir ,
+After well enter'd soldiers , to return
+And find your Grace in health .
+
+No , no , it cannot be ; and yet my heart
+Will not confess he owes the malady
+That doth my life besiege . Farewell , young lords ;
+Whether I live or die , be you the sons
+Of worthy Frenchmen : let higher Italy
+Those bated that inherit but the fall
+Of the last monarchy see that you come
+Not to woo honour , but to wed it ; when
+The bravest questant shrinks , find what you seek
+That fame may cry you loud : I say , farewell .
+
+Health , at your bidding , serve your majesty !
+
+Those girls of Italy , take heed of them :
+They say , our French lack language to deny
+If they demand : beware of being captives ,
+Before you serve .
+
+Our hearts receive your warnings .
+
+Farewell . Come hither to me .
+
+
+O my sweet lord , that you will stay behind us !
+
+'Tis not his fault , the spark .
+
+O ! 'tis brave wars .
+
+Most admirable : I have seen those wars .
+
+I am commanded here , and kept a coil with
+'Too young ,' and 'the next year ,' and ''tis too early .'
+
+An thy mind stand to't , boy , steal away bravely .
+
+I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock ,
+Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry ,
+Till honour be bought up and no sword worn
+But one to dance with ! By heaven ! I'll steal away .
+
+There's honour in the theft .
+
+Commit it , count .
+
+I am your accessary ; and so farewell .
+
+I grow to you , and our parting is a tortured body .
+
+Farewell , captain .
+
+Sweet Monsieur Parolles !
+
+Noble heroes , my sword and yours are kin . Good sparks and lustrous , a word , good metals : you shall find in the regiment of the Spinii , one Captain Spurio , with his cicatrice , an emblem of war , here on his sinister cheek : it was this very sword entrenched it : say to him , I live , and observe his reports for me
+
+We shall , noble captain .
+
+
+Mars dote on you for his novices ! What will ye do ?
+
+Stay ; the king .
+
+
+Use a more spacious ceremony to the noble lords ; you have restrained yourself within the list of too cold an adieu : be more expressive to them ; for they wear themselves in the cap of the time , there do muster true gait , eat , speak , and move under the influence of the most received star ; and though the devil lead the measure , such are to be followed . After them , and take a more dilated farewell .
+
+And I will do so .
+
+Worthy fellows ; and like to prove most sinewy swordmen .
+
+Pardon , my lord , for me and for my tidings .
+
+I'll fee thee to stand up .
+
+Then here's a man stands that has brought his pardon .
+I would you had kneel'd , my lord , to ask me mercy ,
+And that at my bidding you could so stand up .
+
+I would I had ; so I had broke thy pate ,
+And ask'd thee mercy for't .
+
+Good faith , across : but , my good lord , 'tis thus ;
+Will you be cur'd of your infirmity ?
+
+No .
+
+O ! will you eat no grapes , my royal fox ?
+Yes , but you will my noble grapes an if
+My royal fox could reach them . I have seen a medicine
+That's able to breathe life into a stone ,
+Quicken a rock , and make you dance canary
+With spritely fire and motion ; whose simple touch
+Is powerful to araise King Pepin , nay ,
+To give great Charlemain a pen in's hand
+And write to her a love-line .
+
+What 'her' is this ?
+
+Why , Doctor She . My lord , there's one arriv'd
+If you will see her : now , by my faith and honour ,
+If seriously I may convey my thoughts
+In this my light deliverance , I have spoke
+With one , that in her sex , her years , profession ,
+Wisdom , and constancy , hath amaz'd me more
+Than I dare blame my weakness . Will you see her ,
+For that is her demand , and know her business ?
+That done , laugh well at me .
+
+Now , good Lafeu ,
+Bring in the admiration , that we with thee
+May spend our wonder too , or take off thine
+By wond'ring how thou took'st it .
+
+Nay , I'll fit you ,
+And not be all day neither .
+
+
+Thus he his special nothing ever prologues .
+
+
+Nay , come your ways .
+
+This haste hath wings indeed .
+
+Nay , come your ways ;
+This is his majesty , say your mind to him :
+A traitor you do look like ; but such traitors
+His majesty seldom fears : I am Cressid's uncle ,
+That dare leave two together . Fare you well .
+
+
+Now , fair one , does your business follow us ?
+
+Ay , my good lord .
+Gerard de Narbon was my father ;
+In what he did profess well found .
+
+I knew him .
+
+The rather will I spare my praises towards him ;
+Knowing him is enough . On's bed of death
+Many receipts he gave me ; chiefly one ,
+Which , as the dearest issue of his practice ,
+And of his old experience the only darling ,
+He bade me store up as a triple eye ,
+Safer than mine own two , more dear . I have so ;
+And , hearing your high majesty is touch'd
+With that malignant cause wherein the honour
+Of my dear father's gift stands chief in power ,
+I come to tender it and my appliance ,
+With all bound humbleness .
+
+We thank you , maiden ;
+But may not be so credulous of cure ,
+When our most learned doctors leave us , and
+The congregated college have concluded
+That labouring art can never ransom nature
+From her inaidable estate ; I say we must not
+So stain our judgment , or corrupt our hope ,
+To prostitute our past-cure malady
+To empirics , or to dissever so
+Our great self and our credit , to esteem
+A senseless help when help past sense we deem .
+
+My duty then , shall pay me for my pains :
+I will no more enforce mine office on you ;
+Humbly entreating from your royal thoughts
+A modest one , to bear me back again .
+
+I cannot give thee less , to be call'd grateful .
+Thou thought'st to help me , and such thanks I give
+As one near death to those that wish him live ;
+But what at full I know , thou know'st no part ,
+I knowing all my peril , thou no art .
+
+What I can do can do no hurt to try ,
+Since you set up your rest 'gainst remedy .
+He that of greatest works is finisher
+Oft does them by the weakest minister :
+So holy writ in babes hath judgment shown ,
+When judges have been babes ; great floods have flown
+From simple sources ; and great seas have dried
+When miracles have by the greatest been denied .
+Oft expectation fails , and most oft there
+Where most it promises ; and oft it hits
+Where hope is coldest and despair most fits .
+
+I must not hear thee : fare thee well , kind maid .
+Thy pains , not us'd , must by thyself be paid :
+Proffers not took reap thanks for their reward .
+
+Inspired merit so by breath is barr'd .
+It is not so with Him that all things knows ,
+As 'tis with us that square our guess by shows ;
+But most it is presumption in us when
+The help of heaven we count the act of men .
+Dear sir , to my endeavours give consent ;
+Of heaven , not me , make an experiment .
+I am not an impostor that proclaim
+Myself against the level of mine aim ;
+But know I think , and think I know most sure ,
+My art is not past power nor you past cure .
+
+Art thou so confident ? Within what space
+Hop'st thou my cure ?
+
+The great'st grace lending grace ,
+Ere twice the horses of the sun shall bring
+Their fiery torcher his diurnal ring ,
+Ere twice in murk and occidental damp
+Moist Hesperus hath quench'd his sleepy lamp ,
+Or four and twenty times the pilot's glass
+Hath told the thievish minutes how they pass ,
+What is infirm from your sound parts shall fly ,
+Health shall live free , and sickness freely die .
+
+Upon thy certainty and confidence
+What dar'st thou venture ?
+
+Tax of impudence ,
+A strumpet's boldness , a divulged shame ,
+Traduc'd by odious ballads : my maiden's name
+Sear'd otherwise ; nay worse if worse extended
+With vilest torture let my life be ended .
+
+Methinks in thee some blessed spirit doth speak ,
+His powerful sound within an organ weak ;
+And what impossibility would slay
+In common sense , sense saves another way .
+Thy life is dear ; for all that life can rate
+Worth name of life in thee hath estimate ;
+Youth , beauty , wisdom , courage , virtue , all
+That happiness and prime can happy call :
+Thou this to hazard needs must intimate
+Skill infinite or monstrous desperate .
+Sweet practiser , thy physic I will try ,
+That ministers thine own death if I die .
+
+If I break time , or flinch in property
+Of what I spoke , unpitied let me die ,
+And well deserv'd . Not helping , death's my fee ;
+But , if I help , what do you promise me ?
+
+Make thy demand .
+
+But will you make it even ?
+
+Ay , by my sceptre , and my hopes of heaven .
+
+Then shalt thou give me with thy kingly hand
+What husband in thy power I will command :
+Exempted be from me the arrogance
+To choose from forth the royal blood of France ,
+My low and humble name to propagate
+With any branch or image of thy state ;
+But such a one , thy vassal , whom I know
+Is free for me to ask , thee to bestow .
+
+Here is my hand ; the premises observ'd ,
+Thy will by my performance shall be serv'd :
+So make the choice of thy own time , for I ,
+Thy resolv'd patient , on thee still rely .
+More should I question thee , and more I must ,
+Though more to know could not be more to trust ,
+From whence thou cam'st , how tended on ; but rest
+Unquestion'd welcome and undoubted blest .
+Give me some help here , ho ! If thou proceed
+As high as word , my deed shall match thy deed .
+
+
+Come on , sir ; I shall now put you to the height of your breeding .
+
+I will show myself highly fed and lowly taught . I know my business is but to the court .
+
+To the court ! why what place make you special , when you put off that with such contempt ? 'But to the court !'
+
+Truly , madam , if God have lent a man any manners , he may easily put it off at court : he that cannot make a leg , put off's cap , kiss his hand , and say nothing , has neither leg , hands , lip , nor cap ; and indeed such a fellow , to say precisely , were not for the court . But , for me , I have an answer will serve all men .
+
+Marry , that's a bountiful answer that fits all questions .
+
+It is like a barber's chair that fits all buttocks ; the pin-buttock , the quatch-buttock , the brawn-buttock , or any buttock .
+
+Will your answer serve fit to all questions ?
+
+As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an attorney , as your French crown for your taffeta punk , as Tib's rush for Tom's forefinger , as a pancake for Shrove-Tuesday , a morris for Mayday , as the nail to his hole , the cuckold to his horn , as a scolding quean to a wrangling knave , as the nun's lip to the friar's mouth ; nay , as the pudding to his skin .
+
+Have you , I say , an answer of such fitness for all questions ?
+
+From below your duke to beneath your constable , it will fit any question .
+
+It must be an answer of most monstrous size that must fit all demands .
+
+But a trifle neither , in good faith , if the learned should speak truth of it . Here it is , and all that belongs to't : ask me if I am a courtier ; it shall do you no harm to learn .
+
+To be young again , if we could . I will be a fool in question , hoping to be the wiser by your answer . I pray you , sir , are you a courtier ?
+
+O Lord , sir ! there's a simple putting off . More , more , a hundred of them .
+
+Sir , I am a poor friend of yours , that loves you .
+
+O Lord , sir ! Thick , thick , spare not me .
+
+I think , sir , you can eat none of this homely meat .
+
+O Lord , sir ! Nay , put me to't , I warrant you .
+
+You were lately whipped , sir , as I think .
+
+O Lord , sir ! Spare not me .
+
+Do you cry , 'O Lord , sir !' at your whipping , and 'Spare not me ?' Indeed your 'O Lord , sir !' is very sequent to your whipping : you would answer very well to a whipping , if you were but bound to't .
+
+I ne'er had worse luck in my life in my 'O Lord , sir !' I see things may serve long , but not serve ever .
+
+I play the noble housewife with the time ,
+To entertain't so merrily with a fool .
+
+O Lord , sir ! why , there't serves well again .
+
+An end , sir : to your business . Give Helen this ,
+And urge her to a present answer back :
+Commend me to my kinsmen and my son .
+This is not much .
+
+Not much commendation to them .
+
+Not much employment for you : you understand me ?
+
+Most fruitfully : I am there before my legs .
+
+Haste you again .
+
+
+They say miracles are past ; and we have our philosophical persons , to make modern and familiar , things supernatural and causeless . Hence is it that we make trifles of terrors , ensconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge , when we should submit ourselves to an unknown fear .
+
+Why , 'tis the rarest argument of wonder that hath shot out in our latter times .
+
+And so 'tis .
+
+To be relinquished of the artists ,
+
+So I say .
+
+Both of Galen and Paracelsus .
+
+So I say .
+
+Of all the learned and authentic fellows ,
+
+Right ; so I say .
+
+That gave him out incurable ,
+
+Why , there 'tis ; so say I too .
+
+Not to be helped ,
+
+Right ; as 'twere , a man assured of a
+
+Uncertain life , and sure death .
+
+Just , you say well : so would I have said .
+
+I may truly say it is a novelty to the world .
+
+It is , indeed : if you will have it in showing , you shall read it in what do you call there
+
+A showing of a heavenly effect in an earthly actor .
+
+That's it I would have said ; the very same .
+
+Why , your dolphin is not lustier : 'fore me , I speak in respect
+
+Nay , 'tis strange , 'tis very strange , that is the brief and the tedious of it ; and he is of a most facinorous spirit , that will not acknowledge it to be the
+
+Very hand of heaven
+
+Ay , so I say .
+
+In a most weak and debile minister , great power , great transcendence : which should , indeed , give us a further use to be made than alone the recovery of the king , as to be generally thankful .
+
+I would have said it ; you say well . Here comes the king .
+
+
+Lustig , as the Dutchman says : I'll like a maid the better , whilst I have a tooth in my head . Why , he's able to lead her a coranto .
+
+Mort du vinaigre ! Is not this Helen ?
+
+'Fore God , I think so .
+
+Go , call before me all the lords in court .
+
+Sit , my preserver , by thy patient's side :
+And with this healthful hand , whose banish'd sense
+Thou hast repeal'd , a second time receive
+The confirmation of my promised gift ,
+Which but attends thy naming .
+
+
+Fair maid , send forth thine eye : this youthful parcel
+Of noble bachelors stand at my bestowing ,
+O'er whom both sov'reign power and father's voice
+I have to use : thy frank election make ;
+
+Thou hast power to choose , and they none to forsake .
+
+To each of you one fair and virtuous mistress
+Fall , when Love please ! marry , to each , but one .
+
+I'd give bay Curtal , and his furniture ,
+My mouth no more were broken than these boys'
+And writ as little beard .
+
+Peruse them well :
+Not one of those but had a noble father .
+
+Gentlemen ,
+Heaven hath through me restor'd the king to health .
+
+We understand it , and thank heaven for you .
+
+I am a simple maid ; and therein wealthiest
+That I protest I simply am a maid .
+Please it your majesty , I have done already :
+The blushes in my cheeks thus whisper me ,
+'We blush , that thou shouldst choose ; but , be refus'd ,
+Let the white death sit on thy cheek for ever ;
+We'll ne'er come there again .'
+
+Make choice ; and see ,
+Who shuns thy love , shuns all his love in me .
+
+Now , Dian , from thy altar do I fly ,
+And to imperial Love , that god most high ,
+Do my sighs stream . Sir , will you hear my suit ?
+
+And grant it .
+
+Thanks , sir ; all the rest is mute .
+
+I had rather be in this choice than throw ames-ace for my life .
+
+The honour , sir , that flames in your fair eyes ,
+Before I speak , too threateningly replies :
+Love make your fortunes twenty times above
+Her that so wishes , and her humble love !
+
+No better , if you please .
+
+My wish receive ,
+Which great Love grant ! and so I take my leave .
+
+Do all they deny her ? An they were sons of mine , I'd have them whipp'd or I would send them to the Turk to make eunuchs of .
+
+Be not afraid that I your hand should take ;
+I'll never do you wrong for your own sake :
+Blessing upon your vows ! and in your bed
+Find fairer fortune , if you ever wed !
+
+These boys are boys of ice , they'll none have her : sure , they are bastards to the English ; the French ne'er got 'em .
+
+You are too young , too happy , and too good ,
+To make yourself a son out of my blood .
+
+Fair one , I think not so .
+
+There's one grape yet . I am sure thy father drunk wine . But if thou be'st not an ass , I am a youth of fourteen : I have known thee already .
+
+I dare not say I take you ; but I give
+Me and my service , ever whilst I live ,
+Into your guiding power . This is the man .
+
+Why then , young Bertram , take her ; she's thy wife .
+
+My wife , my liege ! I shall beseech your highness
+In such a business give me leave to use
+The help of mine own eyes .
+
+Know'st thou not , Bertram ,
+What she has done for me ?
+
+Yes , my good lord ;
+But never hope to know why I should marry her .
+
+Thou know'st she has rais'd me from my sickly bed .
+
+But follows it , my lord , to bring me down
+Must answer for your raising ? I know her well :
+She had her breeding at my father's charge .
+A poor physician's daughter my wife ! Disdain
+Rather corrupt me ever !
+
+'Tis only title thou disdain'st in her , the which
+I can build up . Strange is it that our bloods ,
+Of colour , weight , and heat , pour'd all together ,
+Would quite confound distinction , yet stand off
+In differences so mighty . If she be
+All that is virtuous , save what thou dislik'st ,
+A poor physician's daughter , thou dislik'st
+Of virtue for the name ; but do not so :
+From lowest place when virtuous things proceed ,
+The place is dignified by the doer's deed :
+Where great additions swell's , and virtue none ,
+It is a dropsied honour . Good alone
+Is good without a name : vileness is so :
+The property by what it is should go ,
+Not by the title . She is young , wise , fair ;
+In these to nature she's immediate heir ,
+And these breed honour : that is honour's scorn
+Which challenges itself as honour's born ,
+And is not like the sire : honours thrive
+When rather from our acts we them derive
+Than our foregoers . The mere word's a slave ,
+Debosh'd on every tomb , on every grave
+A lying trophy , and as oft is dumb
+Where dust and damn'd oblivion is the tomb
+Of honour'd bones indeed . What should be said ?
+If thou canst like this creature as a maid ,
+I can create the rest : virtue and she
+Is her own dower ; honour and wealth from me .
+
+I cannot love her , nor will strive to do't .
+
+Thou wrong'st thyself if thou shouldst strive to choose .
+
+That you are well restor'd , my lord , I'm glad :
+Let the rest go .
+
+My honour's at the stake , which to defeat
+I must produce my power . Here , take her hand ,
+Proud scornful boy , unworthy this good gift ,
+That dost in vile misprision shackle up
+My love and her desert ; thou canst not dream
+We , poising us in her defective scale ,
+Shall weigh thee to the beam ; that wilt not know ,
+It is in us to plant thine honour where
+We please to have it grow . Check thy contempt :
+Obey our will , which travails in thy good :
+Believe not thy disdain , but presently
+Do thine own fortunes that obedient right
+Which both thy duty owes and our power claims ;
+Or I will throw thee from my care for ever
+Into the staggers and the careless lapse
+Of youth and ignorance ; both my revenge and hate
+Loosing upon thee , in the name of justice ,
+Without all terms of pity . Speak ; thine answer .
+
+Pardon , my gracious lord ; for I submit
+My fancy to your eyes . When I consider
+What great creation and what dole of honour
+Flies where you bid it , I find that she , which late
+Was in my nobler thoughts most base , is now
+The praised of the king ; who , so ennobled ,
+Is , as 'twere , born so .
+
+Take her by the hand ,
+And tell her she is thine : to whom I promise
+A counterpoise , if not to thy estate
+A balance more replete .
+
+I take her hand .
+
+Good fortune and the favour of the king
+Smile upon this contract ; whose ceremony
+Shall seem expedient on the now-born brief ,
+And be perform'd to-night : the solemn feast
+Shall more attend upon the coming space ,
+Expecting absent friends . As thou lov'st her ,
+Thy love's to me religious ; else , does err .
+
+
+Do you hear , monsieur ? a word with you .
+
+Your pleasure , sir ?
+
+Your lord and master did well to make his recantation .
+
+Recantation ! My lord ! my master !
+
+Ay ; is it not a language I speak ?
+
+A most harsh one , and not to be understood without bloody succeeding . My master !
+
+Are you companion to the Count Rousillon ?
+
+To any count ; to all counts ; to what is man .
+
+To what is count's man : count's master is of another style .
+
+You are too old , sir ; let it satisfy you , you are too old .
+
+I must tell thee , sirrah , I write man ; to which title age cannot bring thee .
+
+What I dare too well do , I dare not do .
+
+I did think thee , for two ordinaries , to be a pretty wise fellow : thou didst make tolerable vent of thy travel ; it might pass : yet the scarfs and the bannerets about thee did manifoldly dissuade me from believing thee a vessel of too great a burden . I have now found thee ; when I lose thee again , I care not ; yet art thou good for nothing but taking up , and that thou'rt scarce worth .
+
+Hadst thou not the privilege of antiquity upon thee ,
+
+Do not plunge thyself too far in anger , lest thou hasten thy trial ; which if Lord have mercy on thee for a hen ! So , my good window of lattice , fare thee well : thy casement I need not open , for I look through thee . Give me thy hand .
+
+My lord , you give me most egregious indignity .
+
+Ay , with all my heart ; and thou art worthy of it .
+
+I have not , my lord , deserved it .
+
+Yes , good faith , every dram of it ; and I will not bate thee a scruple .
+
+Well , I shall be wiser .
+
+E'en as soon as thou canst , for thou hast to pull at a smack o' the contrary . If ever thou be'st bound in thy scarf and beaten , thou shalt find what it is to be proud of thy bondage . I have a desire to hold my acquaintance with thee , or rather my knowledge , that I may say in the default , he is a man I know .
+
+My lord , you do me most insupportable vexation .
+
+I would it were hell-pains for thy sake , and my poor doing eternal : for doing I am past ; as I will by thee , in what motion age will give me leave .
+
+
+Well , thou hast a son shall take this disgrace off me ; scurvy , old , filthy , scurvy lord ! Well , I must be patient ; there is no fettering of authority . I'll beat him , by my life , if I can meet him with any convenience , an he were double and double a lord . I'll have no more pity of his age than I would have of I'll beat him , an if I could but meet him again !
+
+
+Sirrah , your lord and master's married ; there's news for you : you have a new mistress .
+
+I most unfeignedly beseech your lordship to make some reservation of your wrongs : he is my good lord : whom I serve above is my master .
+
+Who ? God ?
+
+Ay , sir .
+
+The devil it is that's thy master . Why dost thou garter up thy arms o' this fashion ? dost make hose of thy sleeves ? do other servants so ? Thou wert best set thy lower part where thy nose stands . By mine honour , if I were but two hours younger , I'd beat thee : methinks thou art a general offence , and every man should beat thee : I think thou wast created for men to breathe themselves upon thee .
+
+This is hard and undeserved measure , my lord .
+
+Go to , sir ; you were beaten in Italy for picking a kernel out of a pomegranate ; you are a vagabond and no true traveller : you are more saucy with lords and honourable personages than the heraldry of your birth and virtue gives you commission . You are not worth another word , else I'd call you knave . I leave you .
+
+
+Good , very good ; it is so then : good , very good . Let it be concealed awhile .
+
+
+Undone , and forfeited to cares for ever !
+
+What is the matter , sweet heart ?
+
+Although before the solemn priest I have sworn ,
+I will not bed her .
+
+What , what , sweet heart ?
+
+O my Parolles , they have married me !
+I'll to the Tuscan wars , and never bed her .
+
+France is a dog-hole , and it no more merits
+The tread of a man's foot . To the wars !
+
+There's letters from my mother : what the import is
+I know not yet .
+
+Ay , that would be known . To the wars , my boy ! to the wars !
+He wears his honour in a box , unseen ,
+That hugs his kicky-wicky here at home ,
+Spending his manly marrow in her arms ,
+Which should sustain the bound and high curvet
+Of Mars's fiery steed . To other regions !
+France is a stable ; we that dwell in't jades ;
+Therefore , to the war !
+
+It shall be so : I'll send her to my house ,
+Acquaint my mother with my hate to her ,
+And wherefore I am fled ; write to the king
+That which I durst not speak : his present gift
+Shall furnish me to those Italian fields ,
+Where noble fellows strike . War is no strife
+To the dark house and the detested wife .
+
+Will this capriccio hold in thee ? art sure ?
+
+Go with me to my chamber , and advise me .
+I'll send her straight away : to-morrow
+I'll to the wars , she to her single sorrow .
+
+Why , these balls bound ; there's noise in it . 'Tis hard :
+A young man married is a man that's marr'd :
+Therefore away , and leave her bravely ; go :
+The king has done you wrong : but , hush ! 'tis so .
+
+
+My mother greets me kindly : is she well ?
+
+She is not well ; but yet she has her health ; she's very merry ; but yet she is not well : but thanks be given , she's very well , and wants nothing i' the world ; but yet she is not well .
+
+If she be very well , what does she ail that she's not very well ?
+
+Truly , she's very well indeed , but for two things .
+
+What two things ?
+
+One , that she's not in heaven , whither
+God send her quickly ! the other , that she's in earth , from whence God send her quickly !
+
+
+Bless you , my fortunate lady !
+
+I hope , sir , I have your good will to have mine own good fortunes .
+
+You had my prayers to lead them on ; and to keep them on , have them still . O ! my knave , how does my old lady ?
+
+So that you had her wrinkles , and I her money , I would she did as you say .
+
+Why , I say nothing .
+
+Marry , you are the wiser man ; for many a man's tongue shakes out his master's undoing . To say nothing , to do nothing , to know nothing , and to have nothing , is to be a great part of your title ; which is within a very little of nothing .
+
+Away ! thou'rt a knave .
+
+You should have said , sir , before a knave thou'rt a knave ; that is , before me thou'rt a knave : this had been truth , sir .
+
+Go to , thou art a witty fool ; I have found thee .
+
+Did you find me in yourself , sir ? or were you taught to find me ? The search , sir , was profitable ; and much fool may you find in you , even to the world's pleasure and the increase of laughter .
+
+A good knave , i' faith , and well fed .
+Madam , my lord will go away to-night ;
+A very serious business calls on him .
+The great prerogative and rite of love ,
+Which , as your due , time claims , he does acknowledge ,
+But puts it off to a compell'd restraint ;
+Whose want , and whose delay , is strew'd with sweets ,
+Which they distil now in the curbed time ,
+To make the coming hour o'erflow with joy ,
+And pleasure drown the brim .
+
+What's his will else ?
+
+That you will take your instant leave o' the king ,
+And make this haste as your own good proceeding ,
+Strengthen'd with what apology you think
+May make it probable need .
+
+What more commands he ?
+
+That , having this obtain'd , you presently
+Attend his further pleasure .
+
+In everything I wait upon his will .
+
+I shall report it so .
+
+I pray you . Come , sirrah .
+
+
+But I hope your lordship thinks not him a soldier .
+
+Yes , my lord , and of very valiant approof .
+
+You have it from his own deliverance .
+
+And by other warranted testimony .
+
+Then my dial goes not true : I took this lark for a bunting .
+
+I do assure you , my lord , he is very great in knowledge , and accordingly valiant .
+
+I have then sinned against his experience and transgressed against his valour ; and my state that way is dangerous , since I cannot yet find in my heart to repent . Here he comes ; I pray you , make us friends ; I will pursue the amity .
+
+
+These things shall be done , sir .
+
+Pray you , sir , who's his tailor ?
+
+Sir ?
+
+O ! I know him well . Ay , sir ; he , sir , is a good workman , a very good tailor .
+
+Is she gone to the king ?
+
+She is .
+
+Will she away to-night ?
+
+As you'll have her .
+
+I have writ my letters , casketed my treasure ,
+Given orders for our horses ; and to-night ,
+When I should take possession of the bride ,
+End ere I do begin .
+
+A good traveller is something at the latter end of a dinner ; but one that lies three thirds , and uses a known truth to pass a thousand nothings with , should be once heard and thrice beaten . God save you , captain .
+
+Is there any unkindness between my lord and you , monsieur ?
+
+I know not how I have deserved to run into my lord's displeasure .
+
+You have made shift to run into't , boots and spurs and all , like him that leaped into the custard ; and out of it you'll run again , rather than suffer question for your residence .
+
+It may be you have mistaken him , my lord .
+
+And shall do so ever , though I took him at his prayers . Fare you well , my lord ; and believe this of me , there can be no kernel in this light nut ; the soul of this man is his clothes . Trust him not in matter of heavy consequence ; I have kept of them tame , and know their natures . Farewell , monsieur : I have spoken better of you than you have or will to deserve at my hand ; but we must do good against evil .
+
+
+An idle lord , I swear .
+
+I think not so .
+
+Why , do you not know him ?
+
+Yes , I do know him well ; and common speech
+Gives him a worthy pass . Here comes my clog .
+
+
+I have , sir , as I was commanded from you ,
+Spoke with the king , and have procur'd his leave
+For present parting ; only , he desires
+Some private speech with you .
+
+I shall obey his will .
+You must not marvel , Helen , at my course ,
+Which holds not colour with the time , nor does
+The ministration and required office
+On my particular : prepar'd I was not
+For such a business ; therefore am I found
+So much unsettled . This drives me to entreat you
+That presently you take your way for home ;
+And rather muse than ask why I entreat you ;
+For my respects are better than they seem ,
+And my appointments have in them a need
+Greater than shows itself at the first view
+To you that know them not . This to my mother .
+
+'Twill be two days ere I shall see you , so
+I leave you to your wisdom .
+
+Sir , I can nothing say ,
+But that I am your most obedient servant .
+
+Come , come , no more of that .
+
+And ever shall
+With true observance seek to eke out that
+Wherein toward me my homely stars have fail'd
+To equal my great fortune .
+
+Let that go :
+My haste is very great . Farewell : hie home .
+
+Pray sir , your pardon .
+
+Well , what would you say ?
+
+I am not worthy of the wealth I owe ,
+Nor dare I say 'tis mine , and yet it is ;
+But , like a timorous thief , most fain would steal
+What law does vouch mine own .
+
+What would you have ?
+
+Something , and scarce so much : nothing , indeed .
+I would not tell you what I would , my lord :
+Faith , yes ;
+Strangers and foes do sunder , and not kiss .
+
+I pray you , stay not , but in haste to horse .
+
+I shall not break your bidding , good my lord .
+
+Farewell .
+
+Go thou toward home ; where I will never come
+Whilst I can shake my sword or hear the drum .
+Away ! and for our flight .
+
+Bravely , coragio !
+
+So that from point to point now have you heard
+The fundamental reasons of this war ,
+Whose great decision hath much blood let forth ,
+And more thirsts after .
+
+Holy seems the quarrel
+Upon your Grace's part ; black and fearful
+On the opposer .
+
+Therefore we marvel much our cousin France
+Would in so just a business shut his bosom
+Against our borrowing prayers .
+
+Good my lord ,
+The reasons of our state I cannot yield ,
+But like a common and an outward man ,
+That the great figure of a council frames
+By self-unable motion : therefore dare not
+Say what I think of it , since I have found
+Myself in my incertain grounds to fail
+As often as I guess'd .
+
+Be it his pleasure .
+
+But I am sure the younger of our nature ,
+That surfeit on their ease , will day by day
+Come here for physic .
+
+Welcome shall they be ,
+And all the honours that can fly from us
+Shall on them settle . You know your places well ;
+When better fall , for your avails they fell .
+To-morrow to the field .
+
+
+It hath happened all as I would have had it , save that he comes not along with her .
+
+By my troth , I take my young lord to be a very melancholy man .
+
+By what observance , I pray you ?
+
+Why , he will look upon his boot and sing ; mend the ruff and sing ; ask questions and sing ; pick his teeth and sing . I know a man that had this trick of melancholy sold a goodly manor for a song .
+
+Let me see what he writes , and when he means to come .
+
+I have no mind to Isbel since I was at court . Our old ling and our Isbels o' the country are nothing like your old ling and your Isbels o' the court : the brains of my Cupid's knocked out , and I begin to love , as an old man loves money , with no stomach .
+
+What have we here ?
+
+E'en that you have there .
+
+
+I have sent you a daughter-in-law : she hath recovered the king , and undone me . I have wedded her , not bedded her ; and sworn to make the 'not' eternal . You shall hear I am ran away : know it before the report come . If there be breadth enough in the world , I will hold a long distance . My duty to you .
+Your unfortunate son ,
+This is not well : rash and unbridled boy ,
+To fly the favours of so good a king !
+To pluck his indignation on thy head
+By the misprising of a maid too virtuous
+For the contempt of empire !
+
+
+O madam ! yonder is heavy news within between two soldiers and my young lady .
+
+What is the matter ?
+
+Nay , there is some comfort in the news , some comfort ; your son will not be killed so soon as I thought he would .
+
+Why should he be killed ?
+
+So say I , madam , if he run away , as I hear he does : the danger is in standing to't ; that's the loss of men , though it be the getting of children . Here they come will tell you more ; for my part , I only hear your son was run away .
+
+Save you , good madam .
+
+Madam , my lord is gone , for ever gone .
+
+Do not say so .
+
+Think upon patience . Pray you , gentlemen ,
+I have felt so many quirks of joy and grief ,
+That the first face of neither , on the start ,
+Can woman me unto 't : where is my son , I pray you ?
+
+Madam , he's gone to serve the Duke of Florence :
+We met him thitherward ; for thence we came ,
+And , after some dispatch in hand at court ,
+Thither we bend again .
+
+Look on his letter , madam ; here's my passport .
+When thou canst get the ring upon my finger , which never shall come off , and show me a child begotten of thy body that I am father to , then call me husband : but in such a 'then' I write a 'never .'
+This is a dreadful sentence .
+
+Brought you this letter , gentlemen ?
+
+Ay , madam ;
+And for the contents' sake are sorry for our pains .
+
+I prithee , lady , have a better cheer ;
+If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine ,
+Thou robb'st me of a moiety : he was my son ,
+But I do wash his name out of my blood ,
+And thou art all my child . Towards Florence is he ?
+
+Ay , madam .
+
+And to be a soldier ?
+
+Such is his noble purpose ; and , believe't ,
+The duke will lay upon him all the honour
+That good convenience claims .
+
+Return you thither ?
+
+Ay , madam , with the swiftest wing of speed .
+
+Till I have no wife , I have nothing in France .
+'Tis bitter .
+
+Find you that there ?
+
+Ay , madam .
+
+'Tis but the boldness of his hand , haply , which his heart was not consenting to .
+
+Nothing in France until he have no wife !
+There's nothing here that is too good for him
+But only she ; and she deserves a lord
+That twenty such rude boys might tend upon ,
+And call her hourly mistress . Who was with him ?
+
+A servant only , and a gentleman
+Which I have some time known .
+
+Parolles , was it not ?
+
+Ay , my good lady , he .
+
+A very tainted fellow , and full of wickedness .
+My son corrupts a well-derived nature
+With his inducement .
+
+Indeed , good lady ,
+The fellow has a deal of that too much ,
+Which holds him much to have .
+
+Y'are welcome , gentlemen .
+I will entreat you , when you see my son ,
+To tell him that his sword can never win
+The honour that he loses : more I'll entreat you
+Written to bear along .
+
+We serve you , madam ,
+In that and all your worthiest affairs .
+
+Not so , but as we change our courtesies .
+Will you draw near ?
+
+
+'Till I have no wife , I have nothing in France .'
+Nothing in France until he has no wife !
+Thou shalt have none , Rousillon , none in France ;
+Then hast thou all again . Poor lord ! is't I
+That chase thee from thy country , and expose
+Those tender limbs of thine to the event
+Of the non-sparing war ? and is it I
+That drive thee from the sportive court , where thou
+Wast shot at with fair eyes , to be the mark
+Of smoky muskets ? O you leaden messengers ,
+That ride upon the violent speed of fire ,
+Fly with false aim ; move the still-piecing air ,
+That sings with piercing ; do not touch my lord !
+Whoever shoots at him , I set him there ;
+Whoever charges on his forward breast ,
+I am the caitiff that do hold him to't ;
+And , though I kill him not , I am the cause
+His death was so effected : better 'twere
+I met the ravin lion when he roar'd
+With sharp constraint of hunger ; better 'twere
+That all the miseries which nature owes
+Were mine at once . No , come thou home , Rousillon ,
+Whence honour but of danger wins a scar ,
+As oft it loses all : I will be gone ;
+My being here it is that holds thee hence :
+Shall I stay here to do't ? no , no , although
+The air of paradise did fan the house ,
+And angels offic'd all : I will be gone ,
+That pitiful rumour may report my flight ,
+To consolate thine ear . Come , night ; end , day !
+For with the dark , poor thief , I'll steal away .
+
+
+The general of our horse thou art ; and we ,
+Great in our hope , lay our best love and credence
+Upon thy promising fortune .
+
+Sir , it is
+A charge too heavy for my strength , but yet
+We'll strive to bear it for your worthy sake
+To the extreme edge of hazard .
+
+Then go thou forth ,
+And fortune play upon thy prosp'rous helm
+As thy auspicious mistress !
+
+This very day ,
+Great Mars , I put myself into thy file :
+Make me but like my thoughts , and I shall prove
+A lover of thy drum , hater of love .
+
+
+Alas ! and would you take the letter of her ?
+Might you not know she would do as she has done ,
+By sending me a letter ? Read it again .
+
+I am Saint Jaques' pilgrim , thither gone :
+
+Ambitious love hath so in me offended
+That bare-foot plod I the cold ground upon
+With sainted vow my faults to have amended .
+Write , write , that from the bloody course of war ,
+My dearest master , your dear son , may hie :
+Bless him at home in peace , whilst I from far
+His name with zealous fervour sanctify :
+His taken labours bid him me forgive ;
+I , his despiteful Juno , sent him forth
+From courtly friends , with camping foes to live ,
+Where death and danger dog the heels of worth :
+He is too good and fair for Death and me ;
+Whom I myself embrace , to set him free .
+
+
+Ah , what sharp stings are in her mildest words !
+Rinaldo , you did never lack advice so much ,
+As letting her pass so : had I spoke with her ,
+I could have well diverted her intents ,
+Which thus she hath prevented .
+
+Pardon me , madam :
+If I had given you this at over-night
+She might have been o'erta'en ; and yet she writes ,
+Pursuit would be but vain .
+
+What angel shall
+Bless this unworthy husband ? he cannot thrive ,
+Unless her prayers , whom heaven delights to hear ,
+And loves to grant , reprieve him from the wrath
+Of greatest justice . Write , write , Rinaldo ,
+To this unworthy husband of his wife ;
+Let every word weigh heavy of her worth
+That he does weigh too light : my greatest grief ,
+Though little he do feel it , set down sharply .
+Dispatch the most convenient messenger :
+When haply he shall hear that she is gone ,
+He will return ; and hope I may that she ,
+Hearing so much , will speed her foot again ,
+Led hither by pure love . Which of them both
+Is dearest to me I have no skill in sense
+To make distinction . Provide this messenger .
+My heart is heavy and mine age is weak ;
+Grief would have tears , and sorrow bids me speak .
+
+
+Nay , come ; for if they do approach the city we shall lose all the sight .
+
+They say the French Count has done most honourable service .
+
+It is reported that he has taken their greatest commander , and that with his own hand he slew the duke's brother . We have lost our labour ; they are gone a contrary way : hark ! you may know by their trumpets .
+
+Come ; let's return again , and suffice ourselves with the report of it . Well , Diana , take heed of this French earl : the honour of a maid is her name , and no legacy is so rich as honesty .
+
+I have told my neighbour how you have been solicited by a gentleman his companion .
+
+I know that knave ; hang him ! one Parolles : a filthy officer he is in those suggestions for the young earl . Beware of them , Diana ; their promises , enticements , oaths , tokens , and all these engines of lust , are not the things they go under : many a maid hath been seduced by them ; and the misery is , example , that so terrible shows in the wrack of maidenhood , cannot for all that dissuade succession , but that they are limed with the twigs that threaten them . I hope I need not to advise you further ; but I hope your own grace will keep you where you are , though there were no further danger known but the modesty which is so lost .
+
+You shall not need to fear me .
+
+I hope so . Look , here comes a pilgrim :
+I know she will lie at my house ; thither they send one another . I'll question her .
+
+God save you , pilgrim ! whither are you bound ?
+
+To Saint Jaques le Grand .
+Where do the palmers lodge , I do beseech you ?
+
+At the Saint Francis , here beside the port .
+
+Is this the way ?
+
+Ay , marry , is't . Hark you !
+
+They come this way . If you will tarry , holy pilgrim ,
+But till the troops come by ,
+I will conduct you where you shall be lodg'd :
+The rather , for I think I know your hostess
+As ample as myself .
+
+Is it yourself ?
+
+If you shall please so , pilgrim .
+
+I thank you , and will stay upon your leisure .
+
+You came , I think , from France ?
+
+I did so .
+
+Here you shall see a countryman of yours
+That has done worthy service .
+
+His name , I pray you .
+
+The Count Rousillon : know you such a one ?
+
+But by the ear , that hears most nobly of him ;
+His face I know not .
+
+Whatsoe'er he is ,
+He's bravely taken here . He stole from France ,
+As 'tis reported , for the king had married him
+Against his liking . Think you it is so ?
+
+Ay , surely , mere the truth : I know his lady .
+
+There is a gentleman that serves the count
+Reports but coarsely of her .
+
+What's his name ?
+
+Monsieur Parolles .
+
+O ! I believe with him ,
+In argument of praise , or to the worth
+Of the great count himself , she is too mean
+To have her name repeated : all her deserving
+Is a reserved honesty , and that
+I have not heard examin'd .
+
+Alas , poor lady !
+'Tis a hard bondage to become the wife
+Of a detesting lord .
+
+Ay , right ; good creature , wheresoe'er she is ,
+Her heart weighs sadly . This young maid might do her
+A shrewd turn if she pleas'd .
+
+How do you mean ?
+May be the amorous count solicits her
+In the unlawful purpose .
+
+He does , indeed ;
+And brokes with all that can in such a suit
+Corrupt the tender honour of a maid :
+But she is arm'd for him and keeps her guard
+In honestest defence .
+
+The gods forbid else !
+
+
+So , now they come .
+That is Antonio , the duke's eldest son ;
+That , Escalus .
+
+Which is the Frenchman ?
+
+He ;
+That with the plume : 'tis a most gallant fellow ;
+I would he lov'd his wife . If he were honester ,
+He were much goodlier ; is't not a handsome gentleman ?
+
+I like him well .
+
+'Tis pity he is not honest . Yond's that same knave
+That leads him to these places : were I his lady
+I would poison that vile rascal .
+
+Which is he ?
+
+That jack-an-apes with scarfs . Why is he melancholy ?
+
+Perchance he's hurt i' the battle .
+
+Lose our drum ! well .
+
+He's shrewdly vexed at something .
+Look , he has spied us .
+
+Marry , hang you !
+
+And your courtesy , for a ring-carrier !
+
+
+The troop is past . Come , pilgrim , I will bring you
+Where you shall host : of enjoin'd penitents
+There's four or five , to great Saint Jaques bound ,
+Already at my house .
+
+I humbly thank you .
+Please it this matron and this gentle maid
+To eat with us to-night , the charge and thanking
+Shall be for me ; and , to requite you further ,
+I will bestow some precepts of this virgin
+Worthy the note .
+
+We'll take your offer kindly .
+
+
+Nay , good my lord , put him to't : let him have his way .
+
+If your lordship find him not a hilding , hold me no more in your respect .
+
+On my life , my lord , a bubble .
+
+Do you think I am so far deceived in him ?
+
+Believe it , my lord , in mine own direct knowledge , without any malice , but to speak of him as my kinsman , he's a most notable coward , an infinite and endless liar , an hourly promise-breaker , the owner of no one good quality worthy your lordship's entertainment .
+
+It were fit you knew him ; lest , reposing too far in his virtue , which he hath not , he might at some great and trusty business in a main danger fail you .
+
+I would I knew in what particular action to try him .
+
+None better than to let him fetch off his drum , which you hear him so confidently undertake to do .
+
+I , with a troop of Florentines , will suddenly surprise him : such I will have whom I am sure he knows not from the enemy . We will bind and hood wink him so , that he shall suppose no other but that he is carried into the leaguer of the adversaries , when we bring him to our own tents . Be but your lordship present at his examination : if he do not , for the promise of his life and in the highest compulsion of base fear , offer to betray you and deliver all the intelligence in his power against you , and that with the divine forfeit of his soul upon oath , never trust my judgment in anything .
+
+O ! for the love of laughter , let him fetch his drum : he says he has a stratagem for't . When your lordship sees the bottom of his success in't , and to what metal this counterfeit lump of ore will be melted , if you give him not John Drum's entertainment , your inclining cannot be removed . Here he comes .
+
+O ! for the love of laughter , hinder not the honour of his design : let him fetch off his drum in any hand .
+
+
+How now , monsieur ! this drum sticks sorely in your disposition .
+
+A pox on't ! let it go : 'tis but a drum .
+
+'But a drum !' Is't 'but a drum ?' A drum so lost ! There was excellent command , to charge in with our horse upon our own wings , and to rend our own soldiers !
+
+That was not to be blamed in the command of the service : it was a disaster of war that C sar himself could not have prevented if he had been there to command .
+
+Well , we cannot greatly condemn our success : some dishonour we had in the loss of that drum ; but it is not to be recovered .
+
+It might have been recovered .
+
+It might ; but it is not now .
+
+It is to be recovered . But that the merit of service is seldom attributed to the true and exact performer , I would have that drum or another , or hic jacet .
+
+Why , if you have a stomach to't , monsieur , if you think your mystery in stratagem can bring this instrument of honour again into its native quarter , be magnanimous in the enterprise and go on ; I will grace the attempt for a worthy exploit : if you speed well in it , the duke shall both speak of it , and extend to you what further becomes his greatness , even to the utmost syllable of your worthiness .
+
+By the hand of a soldier , I will undertake it .
+
+But you must not now slumber in it .
+
+I'll about it this evening : and I will presently pen down my dilemmas , encourage myself in my certainty , put myself into my mortal preparation , and by midnight look to hear further from me .
+
+May I be bold to acquaint his Grace you are gone about it ?
+
+I know not what the success will be , my lord ; but the attempt I vow .
+
+I know thou'rt valiant ; and , to the possibility of thy soldiership , will subscribe for thee . Farewell .
+
+I love not many words .
+
+
+No more than a fish loves water . Is not this a strange fellow , my lord , that so confidently seems to undertake this business , which he knows is not to be done ; damns himself to do , and dares better be damned than to do't ?
+
+You do not know him , my lord , as we do : certain it is , that he will steal himself into a man's favour , and for a week escape a great deal of discoveries ; but when you find him out you have him ever after .
+
+Why , do you think he will make no deed at all of this that so seriously he does address himself unto ?
+
+None in the world ; but return with an invention and clap upon you two or three probable lies . But we have almost embossed him , you shall see his fall to-night ; for , indeed , he is not for your lordship's respect .
+
+We'll make you some sport with the fox ere we case him . He was first smoked by the old Lord Lafeu : when his disguise and he is parted , tell me what a sprat you shall find him ; which you shall see this very night .
+
+I must go look my twigs : he shall be caught .
+
+Your brother he shall go along with me .
+
+As't please your lordship : I'll leave you .
+
+
+Now will I lead you to the house , and show you
+The lass I spoke of .
+
+But you say she's honest .
+
+That's all the fault . I spoke with her but once ,
+And found her wondrous cold ; but I sent to her ,
+By this same coxcomb that we have i' the wind ,
+Tokens and letters which she did re-send ;
+And this is all I have done . She's a fair creature ;
+Will you go see her ?
+
+With all my heart , my lord .
+
+
+If you misdoubt me that I am not she ,
+I know not how I shall assure you further ,
+But I shall lose the grounds I work upon .
+
+Though my estate be fall'n , I was well born ,
+Nothing acquainted with these businesses ;
+And would not put my reputation now
+In any staining act .
+
+Nor would I wish you .
+First , give me trust , the county is my husband ,
+And what to your sworn counsel I have spoken
+Is so from word to word ; and then you cannot ,
+By the good aid that I of you shall borrow ,
+Err in bestowing it .
+
+I should believe you :
+For you have show'd me that which well approves
+You're great in fortune .
+
+Take this purse of gold ,
+And let me buy your friendly help thus far ,
+Which I will over-pay and pay again
+When I have found it . The county woos your daughter ,
+Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty ,
+Resolv'd to carry her : let her in fine consent ,
+As we'll direct her how 'tis best to bear it .
+Now , his important blood will nought deny
+That she'll demand : a ring the county wears ,
+That down ward hath succeeded in his house
+From son to son , some four or five descents
+Since the first father wore it : this ring he holds
+In most rich choice ; yet , in his idle fire ,
+To buy his will , it would not seem too dear ,
+Howe'er repented after .
+
+Now I see
+The bottom of your purpose .
+
+You see it lawful then . It is no more ,
+But that your daughter , ere she seems as won ,
+Desires this ring , appoints him an encounter ,
+In fine , delivers me to fill the time ,
+Herself most chastely absent . After this ,
+To marry her , I'll add three thousand crowns
+To what is past already .
+
+I have yielded .
+Instruct my daughter how she shall persever ,
+That time and place with this deceit so lawful
+May prove coherent . Every night he comes
+With musics of all sorts and songs compos'd
+To her unworthiness : it nothing steads us
+To chide him from our eaves , for he persists
+As if his life lay on't .
+
+Why then to-night
+Let us assay our plot ; which , if it speed ,
+Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed ,
+And lawful meaning in a lawful act ,
+Where both not sin , and yet a sinful fact .
+But let's about it .
+
+He can come no other way but by this hedge-corner . When you sally upon him , speak what terrible language you will : though you understand it not yourselves , no matter ; for we must not seem to understand him , unless some one among us , whom we must produce for an interpreter .
+
+Good captain , let me be the interpreter .
+
+Art not acquainted with him ? knows he not thy voice ?
+
+No , sir , I warrant you .
+
+But what linsey-woolsey hast thou to speak to us again ?
+
+Even such as you speak to me .
+
+He must think us some band of strangers i' the adversary's entertainment . Now , he hath a smack of all neighbouring languages ; therefore we must every one be a man of his own fancy , not to know what we speak one to another ; so we seem to know , is to know straight our purpose : chough's language , gabble enough , and good enough . As for you , interpreter , you must seem very politic . But couch , ho ! here he comes , to beguile two hours in a sleep , and then to return and swear the lies he forges .
+
+
+Ten o'clock : within these three hours 'twill be time enough to go home . What shall I say I have done ? It must be a very plausive invention that carries it . They begin to smoke me , and disgraces have of late knocked too often at my door . I find my tongue is too foolhardy ; but my heart hath the fear of Mars before it and of his creatures , not daring the reports of my tongue .
+
+This is the first truth that e'er thine own tongue was guilty of .
+
+What the devil should move me to undertake the recovery of this drum , being not ignorant of the impossibility , and knowing I had no such purpose ? I must give myself some hurts and say I got them in exploit . Yet slight ones will not carry it : they will say , 'Came you off with so little ?' and great ones I dare not give . Wherefore , what's the instance ? Tongue , I must put you into a butter-woman's mouth , and buy myself another of Bajazet's mute , if you prattle me into these perils .
+
+Is it possible he should know what he is , and be that he is ?
+
+I would the cutting of my garments would serve the turn or the breaking of my Spanish sword .
+
+We cannot afford you so .
+
+Or the baring of my beard , and to say it was in stratagem .
+
+'Twould not do .
+
+Or to drown my clothes , and say I was stripped .
+
+Hardly serve .
+
+Though I swore I leaped from the window of the citadel
+
+How deep ?
+
+Thirty fathom .
+
+Three great oaths would scarce make that be believed .
+
+I would I had any drum of the enemy's :
+I would swear I recovered it .
+
+Thou shalt hear one anon .
+
+A drum now of the enemy's !
+
+
+Throca movousus , cargo , cargo , cargo .
+
+Cargo , cargo , villianda par corbo , cargo .
+
+
+O ! ransom , ransom ! Do not hide mine eyes .
+
+Boskos thromuldo boskos .
+
+I know you are the Muskos' regiment ;
+And I shall lose my life for want of language .
+If there be here German , or Dane , low Dutch ,
+Italian , or French , let him speak to me :
+I will discover that which shall undo
+The Florentine .
+
+Boskos vauvado :
+I understand thee , and can speak thy tongue :
+Kerelybonto : Sir ,
+Betake thee to thy faith , for seventeen poniards
+Are at thy bosom .
+
+O !
+
+O ! pray , pray , pray .
+Manka revania dulche .
+
+Oscorbidulchos volivorco .
+
+The general is content to spare thee yet ;
+And , hoodwink'd as thou art , will lead thee on
+To gather from thee : haply thou may'st inform
+Something to save thy life .
+
+O ! let me live ,
+And all the secrets of our camp I'll show ,
+Their force , their purposes ; nay , I'll speak that
+Which you will wonder at .
+
+But wilt thou faithfully ?
+
+If I do not , damn me .
+
+Acordo linta .
+Come on ; thou art granted space .
+
+
+Go , tell the Count Rousillon , and my brother ,
+We have caught the woodcock , and will keep him muffled
+Till we do hear from them .
+
+Captain , I will .
+
+A' will betray us all unto ourselves :
+Inform on that .
+
+So I will , sir .
+
+Till then , I'll keep him dark and safely lock'd .
+
+
+They told me that your name was Fontibell .
+
+No , my good lord , Diana .
+
+Titled goddess ;
+And worth it , with addition ! But , fair soul ,
+In your fine frame hath love no quality ?
+If the quick fire of youth light not your mind ,
+You are no maiden , but a monument :
+When you are dead , you should be such a one
+As you are now , for you are cold and stern ;
+And now you should be as your mother was
+When your sweet self was got .
+
+She then was honest .
+
+So should you be .
+
+No :
+My mother did but duty ; such , my lord ,
+As you owe to your wife .
+
+No more o' that !
+I prithee do not strive against my vows .
+I was compell'd to her ; but I love thee
+By love's own sweet constraint , and will for ever
+Do thee all rights of service .
+
+Ay , so you serve us
+Till we serve you ; but when you have our roses ,
+You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves
+And mock us with our bareness .
+
+How have I sworn !
+
+'Tis not the many oaths that make the truth ,
+But the plain single vow that is vow'd true .
+What is not holy , that we swear not by ,
+But take the Highest to witness : then , pray you , tell me ,
+If I should swear by God's great attributes
+I lov'd you dearly , would you believe my oaths ,
+When I did love you ill ? this has no holding ,
+To swear by him whom I protest to love ,
+That I will work against him : therefore your oaths
+Are words and poor conditions , but unseal'd ;
+At least in my opinion .
+
+Change it , change it .
+Be not so holy-cruel : love is holy ;
+And my integrity ne'er knew the crafts
+That you do charge men with . Stand no more off ,
+But give thyself unto my sick desires ,
+Who then recover : say thou art mine , and ever
+My love as it begins shall so persever .
+
+I see that men make ropes in such a scarr
+That we'll forsake ourselves . Give me that ring .
+
+I'll lend it thee , my dear ; but have no power
+To give it from me .
+
+Will you not , my lord ?
+
+It is an honour 'longing to our house ,
+Bequeathed down from many ancestors ,
+Which were the greatest obloquy i' the world
+In me to lose .
+
+Mine honour's such a ring :
+My chastity's the jewel of our house ,
+Bequeathed down from many ancestors ,
+Which were the greatest obloquy i' the world
+In me to lose . Thus your own proper wisdom
+Brings in the champion honour on my part
+Against your vain assault .
+
+Here , take my ring :
+My house , mine honour , yea , my life , be thine ,
+And I'll be bid by thee .
+
+When midnight comes , knock at my chamber-window :
+I'll order take my mother shall not hear .
+Now will I charge you in the band of truth ,
+When you have conquer'd my yet maiden bed ,
+Remain there but an hour , nor speak to me .
+My reasons are most strong ; and you shall know them
+When back again this ring shall be deliver'd :
+And on your finger in the night I'll put
+Another ring , that what in time proceeds
+May token to the future our past deeds .
+Adieu , till then ; then , fail not . You have won
+A wife of me , though there my hope be done .
+
+A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee .
+
+
+For which live long to thank both heaven and me !
+You may so in the end .
+My mother told me just how he would woo
+As if she sat in 's heart ; she says all men
+Have the like oaths : he had sworn to marry me
+When his wife's dead ; therefore I'll lie with him
+When I am buried . Since Frenchmen are so braid ,
+Marry that will , I live and die a maid :
+Only in this disguise I think't no sin
+To cozen him that would unjustly win .
+
+
+You have not given him his mother's letter ?
+
+I have delivered it an hour since : there is something in't that stings his nature , for on the reading it he changed almost into another man .
+
+He has much worthy blame laid upon him for shaking off so good a wife and so sweet a lady .
+
+Especially he hath incurred the everlasting displeasure of the king , who had even tuned his bounty to sing happiness to him . I will tell you a thing , but you shall let it dwell darkly with you .
+
+When you have spoken it , 'tis dead , and I am the grave of it .
+
+He hath perverted a young gentlewoman here in Florence , of a most chaste renown ; and this night he fleshes his will in the spoil of her honour : he hath given her his monumental ring , and thinks himself made in the unchaste composition .
+
+Now , God delay our rebellion ! as we are ourselves , what things are we !
+
+Merely our own traitors : and as in the common course of all treasons , we still see them reveal themselves , till they attain to their abhorred ends , so he that in this action contrives against his own nobility , in his proper stream o'erflows himself .
+
+Is it not most damnable in us , to be trumpeters of our unlawful intents ? We shall not then have his company to-night ?
+
+Not till after midnight , for he is dieted to his hour .
+
+That approaches apace : I would gladly have him see his company anatomized , that he might take a measure of his own judgments , wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit .
+
+We will not meddle with him till he come , for his presence must be the whip of the other .
+
+In the meantime what near you of these wars ?
+
+I hear there is an overture of peace .
+
+Nay , I assure you , a peace concluded .
+
+What will Count Rousillon do then ? will he travel higher , or return again into France ?
+
+I perceive by this demand , you are not altogether of his council .
+
+Let it be forbid , sir ; so should I be a great deal of his act .
+
+Sir , his wife some two months since fled from his house : her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Jaques le Grand ; which holy undertaking with most austere sanctimony she accomplished ; and , there residing , the tenderness of her nature became as a prey to her grief ; in fine , made a groan of her last breath , and now she sings in heaven .
+
+How is this justified ?
+
+The stronger part of it by her own letters , which make her story true , even to the point of her death : her death itself , which could not be her office to say is come , was faithfully confirmed by the rector of the place .
+
+Hath the count all this intelligence ?
+
+Ay , and the particular confirmations , point from point , to the full arming of the verity .
+
+I am heartily sorry that he'll be glad of this .
+
+How mightily sometimes we make us comforts of our losses !
+
+And how mightily some other times we drown our gain in tears ! The great dignity that his valour hath here acquired for him shall at home be encountered with a shame as ample .
+
+The web of our life is of a mingled yarn , good and ill together : our virtues would be proud if our faults whipped them not ; and our crimes would despair if they were not cherished by our virtues .
+
+How now ! where's your master ?
+
+He met the duke in the street , sir , of whom he hath taken a solemn leave : his lordship will next morning for France . The duke hath offered him letters of commendations to the king .
+
+They shall be no more than needful there , if they were more than they can commend .
+
+They cannot be too sweet for the king's tartness . Here's his lordship now .
+
+How now , my lord ! is't not after midnight ?
+
+I have to-night dispatched sixteen businesses , a month's length a-piece , by an abstract of success : I have conge'd with the duke , done my adieu with his nearest , buried a wife , mourned for her , writ to my lady mother I am returning , entertained my convoy ; and between these main parcels of dispatch effected many nicer needs : the last was the greatest , but that I have not ended yet .
+
+If the business be of any difficulty , and this morning your departure hence , it requires haste of your lordship .
+
+I mean , the business is not ended , as fearing to hear of it hereafter . But shall we have this dialogue between the fool and the soldier ? Come , bring forth this counterfeit model : he has deceived me , like a double-meaning prophesier .
+
+Bring him forth .
+
+Has sat i' the stocks all night , poor gallant knave .
+
+No matter ; his heels have deserved it , in usurping his spurs so long . How does he carry himself ?
+
+I have told your lordship already , the stocks carry him . But to answer you as you would be understood ; he weeps like a wench that had shed her milk : he hath confessed himself to Morgan ,whom he supposes to be a friar ,from the time of his remembrance to this very instant disaster of his setting i' the stocks : and what think you he hath confessed ?
+
+Nothing of me , has a' ?
+
+His confession is taken , and it shall be read to his face : if your lordship be in't , as I believe you are , you must have the patience to hear it .
+
+
+A plague upon him ! muffled ! he can say nothing of me : hush ! hush !
+
+Hoodman comes ! Porto tartarossa .
+
+He calls for the tortures : what will you say without 'em ?
+
+I will confess what I know without constraint : if ye pinch me like a pasty , I can say no more .
+
+Bosko chimurcho .
+
+Boblibindo chicurmurco .
+
+You are a merciful general . Our general bids you answer to what I shall ask you out of a note .
+
+And truly , as I hope to live .
+
+First , demand of him how many horse the duke is strong . What say you to that ?
+
+Five or six thousand ; but very weak and unserviceable : the troops are all scattered , and the commanders very poor rogues , upon my reputation and credit , and as I hope to live .
+
+Shall I set down your answer so ?
+
+Do : I'll take the sacrament on't , how and which way you will .
+
+All's one to him . What a past-saving slave is this !
+
+You are deceived , my lord : this is Monsieur Parolles , the gallant militarist ,that was his own phrase ,that had the whole theorick of war in the knot of his scarf , and the practice in the chape of his dagger .
+
+I will never trust a man again for keeping his sword clean ; nor believe he can have everything in him by wearing his apparel neatly .
+
+Well , that's set down .
+
+Five or six thousand horse , I said ,I will say true ,or thereabouts , set down , for I'll speak truth .
+
+He's very near the truth in this .
+
+But I con him no thanks for't , in the nature he delivers it .
+
+Poor rogues , I pray you , say .
+
+Well , that's set down .
+
+I humbly thank you , sir . A truth's a truth ; the rogues are marvellous poor .
+
+Demand of him , of what strength they are a-foot . What say you to that ?
+
+By my troth , sir , if I were to live this present hour , I will tell true . Let me see : Spurio , a hundred and fifty ; Sebastian , so many ; Corambus , so many ; Jaques , so many ; Guiltian , Cosmo , Lodowick , and Gratii , two hundred fifty each ; mine own company , Chitopher , Vaumond , Bentii , two hundred fifty each : so that the muster-file , rotten and sound , upon my life , amounts not to fifteen thousand poll ; half of the which dare not shake the snow from off their cassocks , lest they shake themselves to pieces .
+
+What shall be done to him ?
+
+Nothing , but let him have thanks . Demand of him my condition , and what credit I have with the duke .
+
+Well , that's set down . You shall demand of him , whether one Captain Dumain be i' the camp , a Frenchman ; what his reputation is with the duke ; what his valour , honesty , and expertness in wars ; or whether he thinks it were not possible , with well-weighing sums of gold , to corrupt him to a revolt . What say you to this ? what do you know of it ?
+
+I beseech you , let me answer to the particular of the inter'gatories : demand them singly .
+
+Do you know this Captain Dumain ?
+
+I know him : a' was a botcher's 'prentice in Paris , from whence he was whipped for getting the shrieve's fool with child ; a dumb innocent , that could not say him nay .
+
+
+Nay , by your leave , hold your hands ; though I know his brains are forfeit to the next tile that falls .
+
+Well , is this captain in the Duke of Florence's camp ?
+
+Upon my knowledge he is , and lousy .
+
+Nay , look not so upon me ; we shall hear of your lordship anon .
+
+What is his reputation with the duke ?
+
+The duke knows him for no other but a poor officer of mine , and writ to me this other day to turn him out o' the band : I think I have his letter in my pocket .
+
+Marry , we'll search .
+
+In good sadness , I do not know : either it is there , or it is upon a file with the duke's other letters in my tent .
+
+Here 'tis ; here's a paper ; shall I read it to you ?
+
+I do not know if it be it or no .
+
+Our interpreter does it well .
+
+Excellently .
+
+Dian , the count's a fool , and full of gold
+
+That is not the duke's letter , sir ; that is an advertisement to a proper maid in Florence , one Diana , to take heed of the allurement of one Count Rousillon , a foolish idle boy , but for all that very ruttish . I pray you , sir , put it up again .
+
+Nay , I'll read it first , by your favour .
+
+My meaning in't , I protest , was very honest in the behalf of the maid ; for I knew the young count to be a dangerous and lascivious boy , who is a whale to virginity , and devours up all the fry it finds .
+
+Damnable both-sides rogue !
+
+When he swears oaths , bid him drop gold , and take it ;
+After he scores , he never pays the score :
+Half won is match well made ; match , and well make it ;
+He ne'er pays after-debts ; take it before ,
+And say a soldier , Dian , told thee this ,
+Men are to mell with , boys are not to kiss ;
+For count of this , the count's a fool , I know it ,
+Who pays before , but not when he does owe it .
+
+Thine , as he vow'd to thee in thine ear ,
+
+He shall be whipped through the army with this rime in's forehead .
+
+This is your devoted friend , sir ; the manifold linguist and the armipotent soldier .
+
+I could endure anything before but a cat , and now he's a cat to me .
+
+I perceive , sir , by our general's looks , we shall be fain to hang you .
+
+My life , sir , in any case ! not that I am afraid to die ; but that , my offences being many , I would repent out the remainder of nature . Let me live , sir , in a dungeon , i' the stocks , or anywhere , so I may live .
+
+We'll see what may be done , so you confess freely : therefore , once more to this Captain Dumain . You have answered to his reputation with the duke and to his valour : what is his honesty ?
+
+He will steal , sir , an egg out of a cloister ; for rapes and ravishments he parallels Nessus ; he professes not keeping of oaths ; in breaking 'em he is stronger than Hercules ; he will lie , sir , with such volubility , that you would think truth were a fool ; drunkenness is his best virtue , for he will be swine-drunk , and in his sleep he does little harm , save to his bed-clothes about him ; but they know his conditions , and lay him in straw . I have but little more to say , sir , of his honesty : he has everything that an honest man should not have ; what an honest man should have , he has nothing .
+
+I begin to love him for this .
+
+For this description of thine honesty ? A pox upon him for me ! he is more and more a cat .
+
+What say you to his expertness in war ?
+
+Faith , sir , he has led the drum before the English tragedians ,to belie him I will not ,and more of his soldiership I know not ; except , in that country , he had the honour to be the officer at a place there called Mile-end , to instruct for the doubling of files : I would do the man what honour I can , but of this I am not certain .
+
+He hath out-villained villany so far , that the rarity redeems him .
+
+A pox on him ! he's a cat still .
+
+His qualities being at this poor price , I need not ask you , if gold will corrupt him to revolt .
+
+Sir , for a cardecu he will sell the fee-simple of his salvation , the inheritance of it ; and cut the entail from all remainders , and a perpetual succession for it perpetually .
+
+What's his brother , the other Captain Dumain ?
+
+Why does he ask him or me ?
+
+What's he ?
+
+E'en a crow o' the same nest ; not altogether so great as the first in goodness , but greater a great deal in evil . He excels his brother for a coward , yet his brother is reputed one of the best that is . In a retreat he out-runs any lackey ; marry , in coming on he has the cramp .
+
+If your life be saved , will you undertake to betray the Florentine ?
+
+Ay , and the captain of his horse , Count Rousillon .
+
+I'll whisper with the general , and know his pleasure .
+
+I'll no more drumming ; a plague of all drums ! Only to seem to deserve well , and to beguile the supposition of that lascivious young boy the count , have I run into this danger . Yet who would have suspected an ambush where I was taken ?
+
+There is no remedy , sir , but you must die . The general says , you , that have so traitorously discovered the secrets of your army , and made such pestiferous reports of men very nobly held , can serve the world for no honest use ; therefore you must die . Come , headsman , off with his head .
+
+O Lord , sir , let me live , or let me see my death !
+
+That shall you , and take your leave of all your friends .
+
+So , look about you : know you any here ?
+
+Good morrow , noble captain .
+
+God bless you , Captain Parolles .
+
+God save you , noble captain .
+
+Captain , what greeting will you to my Lord Lafeu ? I am for France .
+
+Good captain , will you give me a copy of the sonnet you writ to Diana in behalf of the Count Rousillon ? an I were not a very coward I'd compel it of you ; but fare you well .
+
+
+You are undone , captain ; all but your scarf ; that has a knot on't yet .
+
+Who cannot be crushed with a plot ?
+
+If you could find out a country where but women were that had received so much shame , you might begin an impudent nation . Fare ye well , sir ; I am for France too : we shall speak of you there .
+
+
+Yet am I thankful : if my heart were great
+'Twould burst at this . Captain I'll be no more ;
+But I will eat and drink , and sleep as soft
+As captain shall : simply the thing I am
+Shall make me live . Who knows himself a braggart ,
+Let him fear this ; for it will come to pass
+That every braggart shall be found an ass .
+Rust , sword ! cool , blushes ! and Parolles , live
+Safest in shame ! being fool'd , by foolery thrive !
+There's place and means for every man alive .
+I'll after them .
+
+
+That you may well perceive I have not wrong'd you ,
+One of the greatest in the Christian world
+Shall be my surety ; 'fore whose throne 'tis needful ,
+Ere I can perfect mine intents , to kneel .
+Time was I did him a desired office ,
+Dear almost as his life ; which gratitude
+Through flinty Tartar's bosom would peep forth ,
+And answer , thanks . I duly am inform'd
+His Grace is at Marseilles ; to which place
+We have convenient convoy . You must know ,
+I am supposed dead : the army breaking ,
+My husband hies him home ; where , heaven aiding ,
+And by the leave of my good lord the king ,
+We'll be before our welcome .
+
+Gentle madam ,
+You never had a servant to whose trust
+Your business was more welcome .
+
+Nor you , mistress ,
+Ever a friend whose thoughts more truly labour
+To recompense your love . Doubt not but heaven
+Hath brought me up to be your daughter's dower ,
+As it hath fated her to be my motive
+And helper to a husband . But , O strange men !
+That can such sweet use make of what they hate ,
+When saucy trusting of the cozen'd thoughts
+Defiles the pitchy night : so lust doth play
+With what it loathes for that which is away .
+But more of this hereafter . You , Diana ,
+Under my poor instructions yet must suffer
+Something in my behalf .
+
+Let death and honesty
+Go with your impositions , I am yours
+Upon your will to suffer .
+
+Yet , I pray you :
+But with the word the time will bring on summer ,
+When briers shall have leaves as well as thorns ,
+And be as sweet as sharp . We must away ;
+Our waggon is prepar'd , and time revives us :
+All's well that ends well : still the fine's the crown ;
+Whate'er the course , the end is the renown .
+
+
+No , no , no ; your son was misled with a snipt-taffeta fellow there , whose villanous saffron would have made all the unbaked and doughy youth of a nation in his colour : your daughter-in-law had been alive at this hour , and your son here at home , more advanced by the king than by that red-tailed humble-bee I speak of .
+
+I would I had not known him ; it was the death of the most virtuous gentlewoman that ever nature had praise for creating . If she had partaken of my flesh , and cost me the dearest groans of a mother , I could not have owed her a more rooted love .
+
+'Twas a good lady , 'twas a good lady : we may pick a thousand salads ere we light on such another herb .
+
+Indeed , sir , she was the sweet-marjoram of the salad , or , rather the herb of grace .
+
+They are not salad-herbs , you knave ; they are nose-herbs .
+
+I am no great Nebuchadnezzar , sir ; I have not much skill in grass .
+
+Whether dost thou profess thyself , a knave , or a fool ?
+
+A fool , sir , at a woman's service , and a knave at a man's .
+
+Your distinction ?
+
+I would cozen the man of his wife , and do his service .
+
+So you were a knave at his service , indeed .
+
+And I would give his wife my bauble , sir , to do her service .
+
+I will subscribe for thee , thou art both knave and fool .
+
+At your service .
+
+No , no , no .
+
+Why , sir , if I cannot serve you , I can serve as great a prince as you are .
+
+Who's that ? a Frenchman ?
+
+Faith , sir , a' has an English name ; but his phisnomy is more hotter in France than there .
+
+What prince is that ?
+
+The black prince , sir ; alias , the prince of darkness ; alias , the devil .
+
+Hold thee , there's my purse . I give thee not this to suggest thee from thy master thou talkest of : serve him still .
+
+I am a woodland fellow , sir , that always loved a great fire ; and the master I speak of , ever keeps a good fire . But , sure , he is the prince of the world ; let his nobility remain in's court . I am for the house with the narrow gate , which I take to be too little for pomp to enter : some that humble themselves may ; but the many will be too chill and tender , and they'll be for the flowery way that leads to the broad gate and the great fire .
+
+Go thy ways , I begin to be aweary of thee ; and I tell thee so before , because I would not fall out with thee . Go thy ways : let my horses be well looked to , without any tricks .
+
+If I put any tricks upon 'em , sir , they shall be jade's tricks , which are their own right by the law of nature .
+
+
+A shrewd knave and an unhappy .
+
+So he is . My lord that's gone made himself much sport out of him : by his authority he remains here , which he thinks is a patent for his sauciness ; and , indeed , he has no pace , but runs where he will .
+
+I like him well ; 'tis not amiss . And I was about to tell you , since I heard of the good lady's death , and that my lord your son was upon his return home , I moved the king my master to speak in the behalf of my daughter ; which , in the minority of them both , his majesty , out of a self-gracious remembrance , did first propose . His highness hath promised me to do it ; and to stop up the displeasure he hath conceived against your son , there is no fitter matter . How does your ladyship like it ?
+
+With very much content , my lord ; and I wish it happily effected .
+
+His highness comes post from Marseilles , of as able body as when he numbered thirty : he will be here to-morrow , or I am deceived by him that in such intelligence hath seldom failed .
+
+It rejoices me that I hope I shall see him ere I die . I have letters that my son will be here to-night : I shall beseech your lordship to remain with me till they meet together .
+
+Madam , I was thinking with what manners I might safely be admitted .
+
+You need but plead your honourable privilege .
+
+Lady , of that I have made a bold charter ; but I thank my God it holds yet .
+
+
+O madam ! yonder's my lord your son with a patch of velvet on's face : whether there be a scar under it or no , the velvet knows ; but 'tis a goodly patch of velvet . His left cheek is a cheek of two pile and a half , but his right cheek is worn bare .
+
+A scar nobly got , or a noble scar , is a good livery of honour ; so belike is that .
+
+But it is your carbonadoed face .
+
+Let us go see your son , I pray you : I long to talk with the young noble soldier .
+
+Faith , there's a dozen of 'em , with delicate fine hats and most courteous feathers , which bow the head and nod at every man .
+
+But this exceeding posting , day and night ,
+Must wear your spirits low ; we cannot help it :
+But since you have made the days and nights as one ,
+To wear your gentle limbs in my affairs ,
+Be bold you do so grow in my requital
+As nothing can unroot you . In happy time ;
+
+
+This man may help me to his majesty's ear ,
+
+If he would spend his power . God save you , sir .
+
+And you .
+
+Sir , I have seen you in the court of France .
+
+I have been sometimes there .
+
+I do presume , sir , that you are not fallen
+From the report that goes upon your goodness ;
+And therefore , goaded with most sharp occasions ,
+Which lay nice manners by , I put you to
+The use of your own virtues , for the which
+I shall continue thankful .
+
+What's your will ?
+
+That it will please you
+To give this poor petition to the king ,
+And aid me with that store of power you have
+To come into his presence .
+
+The king's not here .
+
+Not here , sir !
+
+Not , indeed :
+He hence remov'd last night , and with more haste
+Than is his use .
+
+Lord , how we lose our pains !
+
+All's well that ends well yet ,
+Though time seems so adverse and means unfit .
+I do beseech you , whither is he gone ?
+
+Marry , as I take it , to Rousillon ;
+Whither I am going .
+
+I do beseech you , sir ,
+Since you are like to see the king before me ,
+Commend the paper to his gracious hand ;
+Which I presume shall render you no blame
+But rather make you thank your pains for it .
+I will come after you with what good speed
+Our means will make us means .
+
+This I'll do for you .
+
+And you shall find yourself to be well thank'd ,
+Whate'er falls more . We must to horse again :
+Go , go , provide .
+
+
+Good Monsieur Lavache , give my Lord Lafeu this letter . I have ere now , sir , been better known to you , when I have held familiarity with fresher clothes ; but I am now , sir , muddied in Fortune's mood , and smell somewhat strong of her strong displeasure .
+
+Truly , Fortune's displeasure is but sluttish if it smell so strongly as thou speakest of : I will henceforth eat no fish of Fortune's buttering . Prithee , allow the wind .
+
+Nay , you need not to stop your nose , sir : I spake but by a metaphor .
+
+Indeed , sir , if your metaphor stink , I will stop my nose ; or against any man's metaphor . Prithee , get thee further .
+
+Pray you , sir , deliver me this paper .
+
+Foh ! prithee , stand away : a paper from Fortune's close-stool to give to a nobleman ! Look , here he comes himself .
+
+
+Here is a purr of Fortune's , sir , or of Fortune's cat but not a musk-cat that has fallen into the unclean fishpond of her displeasure , and , as he says , is muddied withal . Pray you , sir , use the carp as you may , for he looks like a poor , decayed , ingenious , foolish , rascally knave . I do pity his distress in my similes of comfort , and leave him to your lordship .
+
+My lord , I am a man whom Fortune hath cruelly scratched .
+
+And what would you have me to do ? 'tis too late to pare her nails now . Wherein have you played the knave with Fortune that she should scratch you , who of herself is a good lady , and would not have knaves thrive long under her ? There's a cardecu for you . Let the justices make you and Fortune friends ; I am for other business .
+
+I beseech your honour to hear me one single word .
+
+You beg a single penny more : come , you shall ha't ; save your word .
+
+My name , my good lord , is Parolles .
+
+You beg more than one word then . Cox my passion ! give me your hand . How does your drum ?
+
+O , my good lord ! you were the first that found me .
+
+Was I , in sooth ? and I was the first that lost thee .
+
+It lies in you , my lord , to bring me in some grace , for you did bring me out .
+
+Out upon thee , knave ! dost thou put upon me at once both the office of God and the devil ? one brings thee in grace and the other brings thee out .
+
+The king's coming ; I know by his trumpets . Sirrah , inquire further after me ; I had talk of you last night : though you are a fool and a knave , you shall eat : go to , follow .
+
+I praise God for you .
+
+
+We lost a jewel of her , and our esteem
+Was made much poorer by it : but your son ,
+As mad in folly , lack'd the sense to know
+Her estimation home .
+
+'Tis past , my liege ;
+And I beseech your majesty to make it
+Natural rebellion , done i' the blaze of youth ;
+When oil and fire , too strong for reason's force ,
+O'erbears it and burns on .
+
+My honour'd lady ,
+I have forgiven and forgotten all ,
+Though my revenges were high bent upon him ,
+And watch'd the time to shoot .
+
+This I must say ,
+But first I beg my pardon ,the young lord
+Did to his majesty , his mother , and his lady ,
+Offence of mighty note , but to himself
+The greatest wrong of all : he lost a wife
+Whose beauty did astonish the survey
+Of richest eyes , whose words all ears took captive ,
+Whose dear perfection hearts that scorn'd to serve
+Humbly call'd mistress .
+
+Praising what is lost
+Makes the remembrance dear . Well , call him hither ;
+We are reconcil'd , and the first view shall kill
+All repetition . Let him not ask our pardon :
+The nature of his great offence is dead ,
+And deeper than oblivion we do bury
+The incensing relics of it : let him approach ,
+A stranger , no offender ; and inform him
+So 'tis our will he should .
+
+I shall , my liege .
+
+
+What says he to your daughter ? have you spoke ?
+
+All that he is hath reference to your highness .
+
+Then shall we have a match . I have letters sent me ,
+That set him high in fame .
+
+
+He looks well on't .
+
+I am not a day of season ,
+For thou mayst see a sunshine and a hail
+In me at once ; but to the brightest beams
+Distracted clouds give way : so stand thou forth ;
+The time is fair again .
+
+My high-repented blames ,
+Dear sovereign , pardon to me .
+
+All is whole ;
+Not one word more of the consumed time .
+Let's take the instant by the forward top ,
+For we are old , and on our quick'st decrees
+The inaudible and noiseless foot of time
+Steals ere we can effect them . You remember
+The daughter of this lord ?
+
+Admiringly , my liege :
+At first I stuck my choice upon her , ere my heart
+Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue ,
+Where the impression of mine eye infixing ,
+Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me ,
+Which warp'd the line of every other favour ;
+Scorn'd a fair colour , or express'd it stolen ;
+Extended or contracted all proportions
+To a most hideous object : thence it came
+That she , whom all men prais'd , and whom myself ,
+Since I have lost , have lov'd , was in mine eye
+The dust that did offend it .
+
+Well excus'd :
+That thou didst love her , strikes some scores away
+From the great compt . But love that comes too late ,
+Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried ,
+To the great sender turns a sour offence ,
+Crying , 'That's good that's gone .' Our rasher faults
+Make trivial price of serious things we have ,
+Not knowing them until we know their grave :
+Oft our displeasures , to ourselves unjust ,
+Destroy our friends and after weep their dust :
+Our own love waking cries to see what's done ,
+While shameful hate sleeps out the afternoon .
+Be this sweet Helen's knell , and now forget her .
+Send forth your amorous token for fair Maudlin :
+The main consents are had ; and here we'll stay
+To see our widower's second marriage-day .
+
+Which better than the first , O dear heaven , bless !
+Or , ere they meet , in me , O nature , cesse !
+
+Come on , my son , in whom my house's name
+Must be digested , give a favour from you
+To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter ,
+That she may quickly come .
+
+And every hair that's on't , Helen , that's dead ,
+Was a sweet creature ; such a ring as this ,
+The last that e'er I took her leave at court ,
+I saw upon her finger .
+
+Hers it was not .
+
+Now , pray you , let me see it ; for mine eye ,
+While I was speaking , oft was fasten'd to't .
+This ring was mine ; and , when I gave it Helen ,
+I bade her , if her fortunes ever stood
+Necessitied to help , that by this token
+I would relieve her . Had you that craft to reave her
+Of what should stead her most ?
+
+My gracious sovereign ,
+Howe'er it pleases you to take it so ,
+The ring was never hers .
+
+Son , on my life ,
+I have seen her wear it ; and she reckon'd it
+At her life's rate .
+
+I am sure I saw her wear it .
+
+You are deceiv'd , my lord , she never saw it :
+In Florence was it from a casement thrown me ,
+Wrapp'd in a paper , which contain'd the name
+Of her that threw it . Noble she was , and thought
+I stood engag'd : but when I had subscrib'd
+To mine own fortune , and inform'd her fully
+I could not answer in that course of honour
+As she had made the overture , she ceas'd ,
+In heavy satisfaction , and would never
+Receive the ring again .
+
+Plutus himself ,
+That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine ,
+Hath not in nature's mystery more science
+Than I have in this ring : 'twas mine , 'twas Helen's ,
+Whoever gave it you . Then , if you know
+That you are well acquainted with yourself ,
+Confess 'twas hers , and by what rough enforcement
+You got it from her . She call'd the saints to surety ,
+That she would never put it from her finger
+Unless she gave it to yourself in bed ,
+Where you have never come , or sent it us
+Upon her great disaster .
+
+She never saw it .
+
+Thou speak'st it falsely , as I love mine honour ;
+And mak'st conjectural fears to come into me
+Which I would fain shut out . If it should prove
+That thou art so inhuman ,'twill not prove so ;
+And yet I know not : thou didst hate her deadly ,
+And she is dead ; which nothing , but to close
+Her eyes myself , could win me to believe ,
+More than to see this ring . Take him away .
+
+My fore-past proofs , howe'er the matter fall ,
+Shall tax my fears of little vanity ,
+Having vainly fear'd too little . Away with him !
+We'll sift this matter further .
+
+If you shall prove
+This ring was ever hers , you shall as easy
+Prove that I husbanded her bed in Florence ,
+Where yet she never was .
+
+
+I am wrapp'd in dismal thinkings .
+
+
+Gracious sovereign ,
+Whether I have been to blame or no , I know not :
+Here's a petition from a Florentine ,
+Who hath , for four or five removes come short
+To tender it herself . I undertook it ,
+Vanquish'd thereto by the fair grace and speech
+Of the poor suppliant , who by this I know
+Is here attending : her business looks in her
+With an importing visage , and she told me ,
+In a sweet verbal brief , it did concern
+Your highness with herself .
+
+"Upon his many protestations to marry me when his wife was dead , I blush to say it , he won me . Now is the Count Rousillon a widower : his vows are forfeited to me , and my honour's paid to him . He stole from Florence , taking no leave , and I follow him to his country for justice . Grant it me , O king ! in you it best lies ; otherwise a seducer flourishes , and a poor maid is undone . DIANA CAPILET ."
+
+I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair , and toll for this : I'll none of him .
+
+The heavens have thought well on thee , Lafeu ,
+To bring forth this discovery . Seek these suitors :
+Go speedily and bring again the count .
+
+I am afeard the life of Helen , lady ,
+Was foully snatch'd .
+
+Now , justice on the doers !
+
+
+I wonder , sir , sith wives are monsters to you ,
+And that you fly them as you swear them lordship ,
+Yet you desire to marry .
+
+What woman's that ?
+
+I am , my lord , a wretched Florentine ,
+Derived from the ancient Capilet :
+My suit , as I do understand , you know ,
+And therefore know how far I may be pitied .
+
+I am her mother , sir , whose age and honour
+Both suffer under this complaint we bring ,
+And both shall cease , without your remedy .
+
+Come hither , county ; do you know these women ?
+
+My lord , I neither can nor will deny
+But that I know them : do they charge me further ?
+
+Why do you look so strange upon your wife ?
+
+She's none of mine , my lord .
+
+If you shall marry ,
+You give away this hand , and that is mine ;
+You give away heaven's vows , and those are mine ;
+You give away myself , which is known mine ;
+For I by vow am so embodied yours
+That she which marries you must marry me ;
+Either both or none .
+
+Your reputation comes too short for my daughter : you are no husband for her .
+
+My lord , this is a fond and desperate creature ,
+Whom sometime I have laugh'd with : let your highness
+Lay a more noble thought upon mine honour
+Than for to think that I would sink it here .
+
+Sir , for my thoughts , you have them ill to friend ,
+Till your deeds gain them : fairer prove your honour ,
+Than in my thought it lies .
+
+Good my lord ,
+Ask him upon his oath , if he does think
+He had not my virginity .
+
+What sayst thou to her ?
+
+She's impudent , my lord ;
+And was a common gamester to the camp .
+
+He does me wrong , my lord ; if I were so ,
+He might have bought me at a common price :
+Do not believe him . O ! behold this ring ,
+Whose high respect and rich validity
+Did lack a parallel ; yet for all that
+He gave it to a commoner o' the camp ,
+If I be one .
+
+He blushes , and 'tis it :
+Of six preceding ancestors , that gem
+Conferr'd by testament to the sequent issue ,
+Hath it been ow'd and worn . This is his wife :
+That ring's a thousand proofs .
+
+Methought you said
+You saw one here in court could witness it .
+
+I did , my lord , but loath am to produce
+So bad an instrument : his name's Parolles .
+
+I saw the man to-day , if man he be .
+
+Find him , and bring him hither .
+
+
+What of him ?
+He's quoted for a most perfidious slave ,
+With all the spots of the world tax'd and debosh'd ,
+Whose nature sickens but to speak a truth .
+Am I or that or this for what he'll utter ,
+That will speak anything ?
+
+She hath that ring of yours .
+
+I think she has : certain it is I lik'd her ,
+And boarded her i' the wanton way of youth .
+She knew her distance and did angle for me ,
+Madding my eagerness with her restraint ,
+As all impediments in fancy's course
+Are motives of more fancy ; and , in fine ,
+Her infinite cunning , with her modern grace ,
+Subdued me to her rate ; she got the ring ,
+And I had that which any inferior might
+At market-price have bought .
+
+I must be patient ;
+You , that have turn'd off a first so noble wife ,
+May justly diet me . I pray you yet ,
+Since you lack virtue I will lose a husband ,
+Send for your ring ; I will return it home ,
+And give me mine again .
+
+I have it not .
+
+What ring was yours , I pray you ?
+
+Sir , much like
+The same upon your finger .
+
+Know you this ring ? this ring was his of late .
+
+And this was it I gave him , being a-bed .
+
+The story then goes false you threw it him
+Out of a casement .
+
+I have spoke the truth .
+
+
+My lord , I do confess the ring was hers .
+
+You boggle shrewdly , every feather starts you .
+Is this the man you speak of ?
+
+Ay , my lord .
+
+Tell me , sirrah , but tell me true , I charge you ,
+Not fearing the displeasure of your master ,
+Which , on your just proceeding I'll keep off ,
+By him and by this woman here what know you ?
+
+So please your majesty , my master hath been an honourable gentleman : tricks he hath had in him , which gentlemen have .
+
+Come , come , to the purpose : did he love this woman ?
+
+Faith , sir , he did love her ; but how ?
+
+How , I pray you ?
+
+He did love her , sir , as a gentleman loves a woman .
+
+How is that ?
+
+He loved her , sir , and loved her not .
+
+As thou art a knave , and no knave .
+What an equivocal companion is this !
+
+I am a poor man , and at your majesty's command .
+
+He is a good drum , my lord , but a naughty orator .
+
+Do you know he promised me marriage ?
+
+Faith , I know more than I'll speak .
+
+But wilt thou not speak all thou knowest ?
+
+Yes , so please your majesty . I did go between them , as I said ; but more than that , he loved her , for , indeed , he was mad for her , and talked of Satan , and of limbo , and of Furies , and I know not what : yet I was in that credit with them at that time , that I knew of their going to bed , and of other motions , as promising her marriage , and things which would derive me ill will to speak of : therefore I will not speak what I know .
+
+Thou hast spoken all already , unless thou canst say they are married : but thou art too fine in thy evidence ; therefore stand aside . This ring , you say , was yours ?
+
+Ay , my good lord .
+
+Where did you buy it ? or who gave it you ?
+
+It was not given me , nor I did not buy it .
+
+Who lent it you ?
+
+It was not lent me neither .
+
+Where did you find it , then ?
+
+I found it not .
+
+If it were yours by none of all these ways ,
+How could you give it him ?
+
+I never gave it him .
+
+This woman's an easy glove , my lord : she goes off and on at pleasure .
+
+This ring was mine : I gave it his first wife .
+
+It might be yours or hers , for aught I know .
+
+Take her away ; I do not like her now .
+To prison with her ; and away with him .
+Unless thou tell'st me where thou hadst this ring
+Thou diest within this hour .
+
+I'll never tell you .
+
+Take her away .
+
+I'll put in bail , my liege .
+
+I think thee now some common customer .
+
+By Jove , if ever I knew man , 'twas you .
+
+Wherefore hast thou accus'd him all this while ?
+
+Because he's guilty , and he is not guilty .
+He knows I am no maid , and he'll swear to't ;
+I'll swear I am a maid , and he knows not .
+Great king , I am no strumpet , by my life ;
+I am either maid , or else this old man's wife .
+
+
+She does abuse our ears : to prison with her !
+
+Good mother , fetch my bail .
+
+Stay , royal sir ;
+The jeweller that owes the ring is sent for ,
+And he shall surety me . But for this lord ,
+Who hath abus'd me , as he knows himself ,
+Though yet he never harm'd me , here I quit him :
+He knows himself my bed he hath defil'd ,
+And at that time he got his wife with child :
+Dead though she be , she feels her young one kick :
+So there's my riddle : one that's dead is quick ;
+And now behold the meaning .
+
+
+Is there no exorcist
+Beguiles the truer office of mine eyes ?
+Is't real that I see ?
+
+No , my good lord ;
+'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see ;
+The name and not the thing .
+
+Both , both . O ! pardon .
+
+O my good lord ! when I was like this maid ,
+I found you wondrous kind . There is your ring ;
+And , look you , here's your letter ; this it says :
+When from my finger you can get this ring ,
+And are by me with child , &c . This is done :
+Will you be mine , now you are doubly won ?
+
+If she , my liege , can make me know this clearly ,
+I'll love her dearly , ever , ever dearly .
+
+If it appear not plain , and prove untrue ,
+Deadly divorce step between me and you !
+O ! my dear mother ; do I see you living ?
+
+Mine eyes smell onions ; I shall weep anon .
+
+Good Tom Drum , lend me a handkercher : so , I thank thee . Wait on me home , I'll make sport with thee : let thy curtsies alone , they are scurvy ones .
+
+Let us from point to point this story know ,
+To make the even truth in pleasure flow .
+
+
+If thou be'st yet a fresh uncropped flower ,
+Choose thou thy husband , and I'll pay thy dower ;
+For I can guess that by thy honest aid
+Thou keptst a wife herself , thyself a maid .
+Of that , and all the progress , more and less ,
+Resolvedly more leisure shall express :
+All yet seems well ; and if it end so meet ,
+The bitter past , more welcome is the sweet .
+
+Spoken by the The king's a beggar , now the play is done :
+All is well ended if this suit be won
+That you express content ; which we will pay ,
+With strife to please you , day exceeding day :
+Ours be your patience then , and yours our parts ;
+Your gentle hands lend us , and take our hearts .
+
+AS YOU LIKE IT
+
+As I remember , Adam , it was upon this fashion bequeathed me by will but poor a thousand crowns , and , as thou sayest , charged my brother on his blessing , to breed me well : and there begins my sadness . My brother Jaques he keeps at school , and report speaks goldenly of his profit : for my part , he keeps me rustically at home , or , to speak more properly , stays me here at home unkept ; for call you that keeping for a gentleman of my birth , that differs not from the stalling of an ox ? His horses are bred better ; for , besides that they are fair with their feeding , they are taught their manage , and to that end riders dearly hired : but I , his brother , gain nothing under him but growth , for the which his animals on his dunghills are as much bound to him as I . Besides this nothing that he so plentifully gives me , the something that nature gave me , his countenance seems to take from me : he lets me feed with his hinds , bars me the place of a brother , and , as much as in him lies , mines my gentility with my education . This is it , Adam , that grieves me ; and the spirit of my father , which I think is within me , begins to mutiny against this servitude . I will no longer endure it , though yet I know no wise remedy how to avoid it .
+
+Yonder comes my master , your brother .
+
+Go apart , Adam , and thou shalt hear how he will shake me up .
+
+
+Now , sir ! what make you here ?
+
+Nothing : I am not taught to make anything .
+
+What mar you then , sir ?
+
+Marry , sir , I am helping you to mar that which God made , a poor unworthy brother of yours , with idleness .
+
+Marry , sir , be better employed , and be naught awhile .
+
+Shall I keep your hogs , and eat husks with them ? What prodigal portion have I spent , that I should come to such penury ?
+
+Know you where you are , sir ?
+
+O ! sir , very well : here in your orchard .
+
+Know you before whom , sir ?
+
+Ay , better than he I am before knows me . I know you are my eldest brother ; and , in the gentle condition of blood , you should so know me . The courtesy of nations allows you my better , in that you are the first-born ; but the same tradition takes not away my blood , were there twenty brothers betwixt us . I have as much of my father in me as you ; albeit , I confess , your coming before me is nearer to his reverence .
+
+What , boy !
+
+Come , come , elder brother , you are too young in this .
+
+Wilt thou lay hands on me , villain ?
+
+I am no villain ; I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys ; he was my father , and he is thrice a villain that says such a father begot villains . Wert thou not my brother , I would not take this hand from thy throat till this other had pulled out thy tongue for saying so : thou hast railed on thyself .
+
+Sweet masters , be patient : for your father's remembrance , be at accord .
+
+Let me go , I say .
+
+I will not , till I please : you shall hear me . My father charged you in his will to give me good education : you have trained me like a peasant , obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities . The spirit of my father grows strong in me , and I will no longer endure it ; therefore allow me such exercises as may become a gentleman , or give me the poor allottery my father left me by testament ; with that I will go buy my fortunes .
+
+And what wilt thou do ? beg , when that is spent ? Well , sir , get you in : I will not long be troubled with you ; you shall have some part of your will : I pray you , leave me .
+
+I will no further offend you than becomes me for my good .
+
+Get you with him , you old dog .
+
+Is 'old dog' my reward ? Most true , I have lost my teeth in your service . God be with my old master ! he would not have spoke such a word .
+
+
+Is it even so ? begin you to grow upon me ? I will physic your rankness , and yet give no thousand crowns neither . Holla , Dennis !
+
+
+Calls your worship ?
+
+Was not Charles the duke's wrestler here to speak with me ?
+
+So please you , he is here at the door , and importunes access to you .
+
+Call him in .
+
+'Twill be a good way ; and to-morrow the wrestling is .
+
+
+Good morrow to your worship .
+
+Good Monsieur Charles , what's the new news at the new court ?
+
+There's no news at the court , sir , but the old news : that is , the old duke is banished by his younger brother the new duke ; and three or four loving lords have put themselves into voluntary exile with him , whose lands and revenues enrich the new duke ; therefore he gives them good leave to wander .
+
+Can you tell if Rosalind , the duke's daughter , be banished with her father ?
+
+O , no ; for the duke's daughter , her cousin , so loves her ,being ever from their cradles bred together ,that she would have followed her exile , or have died to stay behind her . She is at the court , and no less beloved of her uncle than his own daughter ; and never two ladies loved as they do .
+
+Where will the old duke live ?
+
+They say he is already in the forest of Arden , and a many merry men with him ; and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England . They say many young gentlemen flock to him every day , and fleet the time carelessly , as they did in the golden world .
+
+What , you wrestle to-morrow before the new duke ?
+
+Marry , do I , sir ; and I came to acquaint you with a matter . I am given , sir , secretly to understand that your younger brother Orlando hath a disposition to come in disguised against me to try a fall . To-morrow , sir , I wrestle for my credit , and he that escapes me without some broken limb shall acquit him well . Your brother is but young and tender ; and , for your love , I would be loath to foil him as I must , for my own honour , if he come in : therefore , out of my love to you , I came hither to acquaint you withal , that either you might stay him from his intendment , or brook such disgrace well as he shall run into , in that it is a thing of his own search and altogether against my will .
+
+Charles , I thank thee for thy love to me , which thou shalt find I will most kindly requite . I had myself notice of my brother's purpose herein , and have by underhand means laboured to dissuade him from it , but he is resolute . I'll tell thee , Charles , it is the stubbornest young fellow of France ; full of ambition , an envious emulator of every man's good parts , a secret and villanous contriver against me his natural brother : therefore use thy discretion . I had as lief thou didst break his neck as his finger . And thou wert best look to't ; for if thou dost him any slight disgrace , or if he do not mightily grace himself on thee , he will practise against thee by poison , entrap thee by some treacherous device , and never leave thee till he hath ta'en thy life by some indirect means or other ; for , I assure thee ,and almost with tears I speak it ,there is not one so young and so villanous this day living . I speak but brotherly of him ; but should I anatomize him to thee as he is , I must blush and weep , and thou must look pale and wonder .
+
+I am heartily glad I came hither to you . If he come to-morrow , I'll give him his payment : if ever he go alone again , I'll never wrestle for prize more ; and so God keep your worship !
+
+
+Farewell , good Charles . Now will I stir this gamester . I hope I shall see an end of him ; for my soul , yet I know not why , hates nothing more than he . Yet he's gentle , never schooled and yet learned , full of noble device , of all sorts enchantingly beloved , and , indeed so much in the heart of the world , and especially of my own people , who best know him , that I am altogether misprised . But it shall not be so long ; this wrestler shall clear all : nothing remains but that I kindle the boy thither , which now I'll go about .
+
+I pray thee , Rosalind , sweet my coz , be merry .
+
+Dear Celia , I show more mirth than I am mistress of , and would you yet I were merrier ? Unless you could teach me to forget a banished father , you must not learn me how to remember any extraordinary pleasure .
+
+Herein I see thou lovest me not with the full weight that I love thee . If my uncle , thy banished father , had banished thy uncle , the duke my father , so thou hadst been still with me , I could have taught my love to take thy father for mine : so wouldst thou , if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously tempered as mine is to thee .
+
+Well , I will forget the condition of my estate , to rejoice in yours .
+
+You know my father hath no child but I , nor none is like to have ; and , truly , when he dies , thou shalt be his heir : for what he hath taken away from thy father perforce , I will render thee again in affection ; by mine honour , I will ; and when I break that oath , let me turn monster . Therefore , my sweet Rose , my dear Rose , be merry .
+
+From henceforth I will , coz , and devise sports . Let me see ; what think you of falling in love ?
+
+Marry , I prithee , do , to make sport withal : but love no man in good earnest ; nor no further in sport neither , than with safety of a pure blush thou mayst in honour come off again .
+
+What shall be our sport then ?
+
+Let us sit and mock the good housewife Fortune from her wheel , that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally .
+
+I would we could do so , for her benefits are mightily misplaced , and the bountiful blind woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women .
+
+'Tis true ; for those that she makes fair she scarce makes honest , and those that she makes honest she makes very ill-favouredly .
+
+Nay , now thou goest from Fortune's office to Nature's : Fortune reigns in gifts of the world , not in the lineaments of Nature .
+
+
+No ? when Nature hath made a fair creature , may she not by Fortune fall into the fire ? Though Nature hath given us wit to flout at Fortune , hath not Fortune sent in this fool to cut off the argument ?
+
+Indeed , there is Fortune too hard for Nature , when Fortune makes Nature's natural the cutter-off of Nature's wit .
+
+Peradventure this is not Fortune's work neither , but Nature's ; who , perceiving our natural wits too dull to reason of such goddesses , hath sent this natural for our whetstone : for always the dulness of the fool is the whetstone of the wits . How now , wit ! whither wander you ?
+
+Mistress , you must come away to your father .
+
+Were you made the messenger ?
+
+No , by mine honour ; but I was bid to come for you .
+
+Where learned you that oath , fool ?
+
+Of a certain knight that swore by his honour they were good pancakes , and swore by his honour the mustard was naught : now , I'll stand to it , the pancakes were naught and the mustard was good , and yet was not the knight forsworn .
+
+How prove you that , in the great heap of your knowledge ?
+
+Ay , marry : now unmuzzle your wisdom .
+
+Stand you both forth now : stroke your chins , and swear by your beards that I am a knave .
+
+By our beards , if we had them , thou art .
+
+By my knavery , if I had it , then I were ; but if you swear by that that is not , you are not forsworn : no more was this knight , swearing by his honour , for he never had any ; or if he had , he had sworn it away before ever he saw those pancakes or that mustard .
+
+Prithee , who is't that thou meanest ?
+
+One that old Frederick , your father , loves .
+
+My father's love is enough to honour him . Enough ! speak no more of him ; you'll be whipped for taxation one of these days .
+
+The more pity , that fools may not speak wisely what wise men do foolishly .
+
+By my troth , thou sayest true ; for since the little wit that fools have was silenced , the little foolery that wise men have makes a great show . Here comes Monsieur Le Beau .
+
+With his mouth full of news .
+
+Which he will put on us , as pigeons feed their young .
+
+Then we shall be news-cramm'd .
+
+All the better ; we shall be more marketable .
+
+Bon jour , Monsieur Le Beau : what's the news ?
+
+Fair princess , you have lost much good sport .
+
+Sport ! Of what colour ?
+
+What colour , madam ! How shall
+I answer you ?
+
+As wit and fortune will .
+
+Or as the Destinies decree .
+
+Well said : that was laid on with a trowel .
+
+Nay , if I keep not my rank ,
+
+Thou losest thy old smell .
+
+You amaze me , ladies : I would have told you of good wrestling , which you have lost the sight of .
+
+Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling .
+
+I will tell you the beginning ; and , if it please your ladyships , you may see the end , for the best is yet to do ; and here , where you are , they are coming to perform it .
+
+Well , the beginning , that is dead and buried .
+
+There comes an old man and his three sons ,
+
+I could match this beginning with an old tale .
+
+Three proper young men , of excellent growth and presence ;
+
+With bills on their necks , 'Be it known unto all men by these presents .'
+
+The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles , the duke's wrestler ; which Charles in a moment threw him and broke three of his ribs , that there is little hope of life in him : so he served the second , and so the third . Yonder they lie ; the poor old man , their father , making such pitiful dole over them that all the beholders take his part with weeping .
+
+Alas !
+
+But what is the sport , monsieur , that the ladies have lost ?
+
+Why , this that I speak of .
+
+Thus men may grow wiser every day : it is the first time that ever I heard breaking of ribs was sport for ladies .
+
+Or I , I promise thee .
+
+But is there any else longs to feel this broken music in his sides ? is there yet another dotes upon rib-breaking ? Shall we see this wrestling , cousin ?
+
+You must , if you stay here ; for here is the place appointed for the wrestling , and they are ready to perform it .
+
+Yonder , sure , they are coming : let us now stay and see it .
+
+
+Come on : since the youth will not be entreated , his own peril on his forwardness .
+
+Is yonder the man ?
+
+Even he , madam .
+
+Alas ! he is too young : yet he looks successfully .
+
+How now , daughter and cousin ! are you crept hither to see the wrestling ?
+
+Ay , my liege , so please you give us leave .
+
+You will take little delight in it , I can tell you , there is such odds in the man : in pity of the challenger's youth I would fam dissuade him , but he will not be entreated . Speak to him , ladies ; see if you can move him .
+
+Call him hither , good Monsieur le Beau .
+
+Do so : I'll not be by .
+
+
+Monsieur the challenger , the princes call for you .
+
+I attend them with all respect and duty .
+
+Young man , have you challenged Charles the wrestler ?
+
+No , fair princess ; he is the general challenger : I come but in , as others do , to try with him the strength of my youth .
+
+Young gentleman , your spirits are too bold for your years . You have seen cruel proof of this man's strength : if you saw yourself with your eyes or knew yourself with your judgment , the fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal enterprise . We pray you , for your own sake , to embrace your own safety and give over this attempt .
+
+Do , young sir : your reputation shall not therefore be misprised . We will make it our suit to the duke that the wrestling might not go forward .
+
+I beseech you , punish me not with your hard thoughts , wherein I confess me much guilty , to deny so fair and excellent ladies anything . But let your fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me to my trial : wherein if I be foiled , there is but one shamed that was never gracious ; if killed , but one dead that is willing to be so . I shall do my friends no wrong , for I have none to lament me ; the world no injury , for in it I have nothing ; only in the world I fill up a place , which may be better supplied when I have made it empty .
+
+The little strength that I have , I would it were with you .
+
+And mine , to eke out hers .
+
+Fare you well . Pray heaven I be deceived in you !
+
+Your heart's desires be with you !
+
+Come , where is this young gallant that is so desirous to lie with his mother earth ?
+
+Ready , sir ; but his will hath in it a more modest working .
+
+You shall try but one fall .
+
+No , I warrant your Grace , you shall not entreat him to a second , that have so mightily persuaded him from a first .
+
+You mean to mock me after ; you should not have mocked me before : but come your ways .
+
+Now Hercules be thy speed , young man !
+
+I would I were invisible , to catch the strong fellow by the leg .
+
+
+O excellent young man !
+
+If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye , I can tell who should down .
+
+
+No more , no more .
+
+Yes , I beseech your Grace : I am not yet well breathed .
+
+How dost thou , Charles ?
+
+He cannot speak , my lord .
+
+Bear him away . What is thy name , young man ?
+
+
+Orlando , my liege ; the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys .
+
+I would thou hadst been son to some man else :
+The world esteem'd thy father honourable ,
+But I did find him still mine enemy :
+Thou shouldst have better pleas'd me with this deed ,
+Hadst thou descended from another house .
+But fare thee well ; thou art a gallant youth :
+I would thou hadst told me of another father .
+
+
+Were I my father , coz , would I do this ?
+
+I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's son ,
+His youngest son ; and would not change that calling ,
+To be adopted heir to Frederick .
+
+My father lov'd Sir Rowland as his soul ,
+And all the world was of my father's mind :
+Had I before known this young man his son ,
+I should have given him tears unto entreaties ,
+Ere he should thus have ventur'd .
+
+Gentle cousin ,
+Let us go thank him and encourage him :
+My father's rough and envious disposition
+Sticks me at heart . Sir , you have well deserv'd :
+If you do keep your promises in love
+But justly , as you have exceeded all promise ,
+Your mistress shall be happy .
+
+Gentleman ,
+
+Wear this for me , one out of suits with fortune ,
+That could give more , but that her hand lacks means .
+Shall we go , coz ?
+
+Ay . Fare you well , fair gentleman .
+
+Can I not say , I thank you ? My better parts
+Are all thrown down , and that which here stands up
+Is but a quintain , a mere lifeless block .
+
+He calls us back : my pride fell with my fortunes ;
+I'll ask him what he would . Did you call , sir ?
+Sir , you have wrestled well , and overthrown
+More than your enemies .
+
+Will you go , coz ?
+
+Have with you . Fare you well .
+
+
+What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue ?
+I cannot speak to her , yet she urg'd conference .
+O poor Orlando , thou art overthrown !
+Or Charles or something weaker masters thee .
+
+
+Good sir , I do in friendship counsel you
+To leave this place . Albeit you have deserv'd
+High commendation , true applause and love ,
+Yet such is now the duke's condition
+That he misconstrues all that you have done .
+The duke is humorous : what he is indeed ,
+More suits you to conceive than I to speak of .
+
+I thank you , sir ; and pray you , tell me this ;
+Which of the two was daughter of the duke ,
+That here was at the wrestling ?
+
+Neither his daughter , if we judge by manners :
+But yet , indeed the smaller is his daughter :
+The other is daughter to the banish'd duke ,
+And here detain'd by her usurping uncle ,
+To keep his daughter company ; whose loves
+Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters .
+But I can tell you that of late this duke
+Hath ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece ,
+Grounded upon no other argument
+But that the people praise her for her virtues ,
+And pity her for her good father's sake ;
+And , on my life , his malice 'gainst the lady
+Will suddenly break forth . Sir , fare you well :
+Hereafter , in a better world than this ,
+I shall desire more love and knowledge of you .
+
+I rest much bounden to you : fare you well .
+
+Thus must I from the smoke into the smother ;
+From tyrant duke unto a tyrant brother .
+But heavenly Rosalind !
+
+
+Why , cousin ! why , Rosalind ! Cupid have mercy ! Not a word ?
+
+Not one to throw at a dog .
+
+No , thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs ; throw some of them at me ; come , lame me with reasons .
+
+Then there were two cousins laid up ; when the one should be lamed with reasons and the other mad without any .
+
+But is all this for your father ?
+
+No , some of it is for my child's father :
+O , how full of briers is this working-day world !
+
+They are but burrs , cousin , thrown upon thee in holiday foolery : if we walk not in the trodden paths , our very petticoats will catch them .
+
+I could shake them off my coat : these burrs are in my heart .
+
+Hem them away .
+
+I would try , if I could cry 'hem ,' and have him .
+
+Come , come ; wrestle with thy affections .
+
+O ! they take the part of a better wrestler than myself !
+
+O , a good wish upon you ! you will try in time , in despite of a fall . But , turning these jests out of service , let us talk in good earnest : is it possible , on such a sudden , you should fall into so strong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest son ?
+
+The duke my father loved his father dearly .
+
+Doth it therefore ensue that you should love his son dearly ? By this kind of chase , I should hate him , for my father hated his father dearly ; yet I hate not Orlando .
+
+No , faith , hate him not , for my sake .
+
+Why should I not ? doth he not deserve well ?
+
+Let me love him for that ; and do you love him , because I do . Look , here comes the duke .
+
+With his eyes full of anger .
+
+
+Mistress , dispatch you with your safest haste ,
+And get you from our court .
+
+Me , uncle ?
+
+You , cousin :
+Within these ten days if that thou be'st found
+So near our public court as twenty miles ,
+Thou diest for it .
+
+I do beseech your Grace ,
+Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me .
+If with myself I hold intelligence ,
+Or have acquaintance with mine own desires ,
+If that I do not dream or be not frantic ,
+As I do trust I am not ,then , dear uncle ,
+Never so much as in a thought unborn
+Did I offend your highness .
+
+Thus do all traitors :
+If their purgation did consist in words ,
+They are as innocent as grace itself :
+Let it suffice thee that I trust thee not .
+
+Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor :
+Tell me whereon the likelihood depends .
+
+Thou art thy father's daughter ; there's enough .
+
+So was I when your highness took his dukedom ;
+So was I when your highness banish'd him .
+Treason is not inherited , my lord ;
+Or , if we did derive it from our friends ,
+What's that to me ? my father was no traitor :
+Then , good my liege , mistake me not so much
+To think my poverty is treacherous .
+
+Dear sovereign , hear me speak .
+
+Ay , Celia ; we stay'd her for your sake ;
+Else had she with her father rang'd along .
+
+I did not then entreat to have her stay :
+It was your pleasure and your own remorse .
+I was too young that time to value her ;
+But now I know her : if she be a traitor ,
+Why so am I ; we still have slept together ,
+Rose at an instant , learn'd , play'd , eat together ;
+And wheresoe'er we went , like Juno's swans ,
+Still we went coupled and inseparable .
+
+She is too subtle for thee ; and her smoothness ,
+Her very silence and her patience ,
+Speak to the people , and they pity her .
+Thou art a fool : she robs thee of thy name ;
+And thou wilt show more bright and seem more virtuous
+When she is gone . Then open not thy lips :
+Firm and irrevocable is my doom
+Which I have pass'd upon her ; she is banish'd .
+
+Pronounce that sentence then , on me , my liege :
+I cannot live out of her company .
+
+You are a fool . You , niece , provide yourself :
+If you outstay the time , upon mine honour ,
+And in the greatness of my word , you die .
+
+
+O my poor Rosalind ! whither wilt thou go ?
+Wilt thou change fathers ? I will give thee mine .
+I charge thee , be not thou more griev'd than I am .
+
+I have more cause .
+
+Thou hast not , cousin ;
+Prithee , be cheerful ; know'st thou not , the duke
+Hath banish'd me , his daughter ?
+
+That he hath not .
+
+No , hath not ? Rosalind lacks then the love
+Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one :
+Shall we be sunder'd ? shall we part , sweet girl ?
+No : let my father seek another heir .
+Therefore devise with me how we may fly ,
+Whither to go , and what to bear with us :
+And do not seek to take your change upon you ,
+To bear your griefs yourself and leave me out ;
+For , by this heaven , now at our sorrows pale ,
+Say what thou canst , I'll go along with thee .
+
+Why , whither shall we go ?
+
+To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden .
+
+Alas , what danger will it be to us ,
+Maids as we are , to travel forth so far !
+Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold .
+
+I'll put myself in poor and mean attire ,
+And with a kind of umber smirch my face ;
+The like do you : so shall we pass along
+And never stir assailants .
+
+Were it not better ,
+Because that I am more than common tall ,
+That I did suit me all points like a man ?
+A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh ,
+A boar-spear in my hand ; and ,in my heart
+Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will ,
+We'll have a swashing and a martial outside ,
+As many other mannish cowards have
+That do outface it with their semblances .
+
+What shall I call thee when thou art a man ?
+
+I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own page ,
+And therefore look you call me Ganymede .
+But what will you be call'd ?
+
+Something that hath a reference to my state :
+No longer Celia , but Aliena .
+
+But , cousin , what if we assay'd to steal
+The clownish fool out of your father's court ?
+Would he not be a comfort to our travel ?
+
+He'll go along o'er the wide world with me ;
+Leave me alone to woo him . Let's away ,
+And get our jewels and our wealth together ,
+Devise the fittest time and safest way
+To hide us from pursuit that will be made
+After my flight . Now go we in content
+To liberty and not to banishment .
+
+Now , my co-mates and brothers in exile ,
+Hath not old custom made this life more sweet
+Than that of painted pomp ? Are not these woods
+More free from peril than the envious court ?
+Here feel we but the penalty of Adam ,
+The seasons' difference ; as , the icy fang
+And churlish chiding of the winter's wind ,
+Which , when it bites and blows upon my body ,
+Even till I shrink with cold , I smile and say
+'This is no flattery : these are counsellors
+That feelingly persuade me what I am .'
+Sweet are the uses of adversity ,
+Which like the toad , ugly and venomous ,
+Wears yet a precious jewel in his head ;
+And this our life exempt from public haunt ,
+Finds tongues in trees , books in the running brooks ,
+Sermons in stones , and good in every thing .
+I would not change it .
+
+Happy is your Grace ,
+That can translate the stubbornness of fortune
+Into so quiet and so sweet a style .
+
+Come , shall we go and kill us venison ?
+And yet it irks me , the poor dappled fools ,
+Being native burghers of this desert city ,
+Should in their own confines with forked heads
+Have their round haunches gor'd .
+
+Indeed , my lord ,
+The melancholy Jaques grieves at that ;
+And , in that kind , swears you do more usurp
+Than doth your brother that hath banish'd you .
+To-day my Lord of Amiens and myself
+Did steal behind him as he lay along
+Under an oak whose antique root peeps out
+Upon the brook that brawls along this wood ;
+To the which place a poor sequester'd stag ,
+That from the hunters' aim had ta'en a hurt ,
+Did come to languish ; and , indeed , my lord ,
+The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans
+That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat
+Almost to bursting , and the big round tears
+Cours'd one another down his innocent nose
+In piteous chase ; and thus the hairy fool ,
+Much marked of the melancholy Jaques ,
+Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook ,
+Augmenting it with tears .
+
+But what said Jaques ?
+Did he not moralize this spectacle ?
+
+O , yes , into a thousand similes .
+First , for his weeping into the needless stream ;
+'Poor deer ,' quoth he , 'thou mak'st a testament
+As worldlings do , giving thy sum of more
+To that which had too much :' then , being there alone ,
+Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends ;
+''Tis right ,' quoth he ; 'thus misery doth part
+The flux of company :' anon , a careless herd ,
+Full of the pasture , jumps along by him
+And never stays to greet him ; 'Ay ,' quoth Jaques ,
+'Sweep on , you fat and greasy citizens ;
+'Tis just the fashion ; wherefore do you look
+Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there ?'
+Thus most invectively he pierceth through
+The body of the country , city , court ,
+Yea , and of this our life ; swearing that we
+Are mere usurpers , tyrants , and what's worse ,
+To fright the animals and to kill them up
+In their assign'd and native dwelling-place .
+
+And did you leave him in this contemplation ?
+
+We did , my lord , weeping and commenting
+Upon the sobbing deer .
+
+Show me the place .
+I love to cope him in these sullen fits ,
+For then he's full of matter .
+
+I'll bring you to him straight .
+
+
+Can it be possible that no man saw them ?
+It cannot be : some villains of my court
+Are of consent and sufferance in this .
+
+I cannot hear of any that did see her .
+The ladies , her attendants of her chamber ,
+Saw her a-bed ; and , in the morning early
+They found the bed untreasur'd of their mistress .
+
+My lord , the roynish clown , at whom so oft
+Your Grace was wont to laugh , is also missing .
+Hisperia , the princess' gentlewoman ,
+Confesses that she secretly o'erheard
+Your daughter and her cousin much commend
+The parts and graces of the wrestler
+That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles ;
+And she believes , wherever they are gone ,
+That youth is surely in their company .
+
+Send to his brother ; fetch that gallant hither ;
+If he be absent , bring his brother to me ;
+I'll make him find him . Do this suddenly ,
+And let not search and inquisition quail
+To bring again these foolish runaways .
+
+
+Who's there ?
+
+What ! my young master ? O my gentle master !
+O my sweet master ! O you memory
+Of old Sir Rowland ! why , what make you here ?
+Why are you virtuous ? Why do people love you ?
+And wherefore are you gentle , strong , and valiant ?
+Why would you be so fond to overcome
+The bony priser of the humorous duke ?
+Your praise is come too swiftly home before you .
+Know you not , master , to some kind of men
+Their graces serve them but as enemies ?
+No more do yours : your virtues , gentle master ,
+Are sanctified and holy traitors to you .
+O , what a world is this , when what is comely
+Envenoms him that bears it !
+
+Why , what's the matter ?
+
+O unhappy youth !
+Come not within these doors ; within this roof
+The enemy of all your graces lives .
+Your brother ,no , no brother ; yet the son ,
+Yet not the son , I will not call him son
+Of him I was about to call his father ,
+Hath heard your praises , and this night he means
+To burn the lodging where you use to lie ,
+And you within it : if he fail of that ,
+He will have other means to cut you off .
+I overheard him and his practices .
+This is no place ; this house is but a butchery :
+Abhor it , fear it , do not enter it .
+
+Why , whither , Adam , wouldst thou have me go ?
+
+No matter whither , so you come not here .
+
+What ! wouldst thou have me go and beg my food ?
+Or with a base and boisterous sword enforce
+A thievish living on the common road ?
+This I must do , or know not what to do :
+Yet this I will not do , do how I can ;
+I rather will subject me to the malice
+Of a diverted blood and bloody brother .
+
+But do not so . I have five hundred crowns ,
+The thrifty hire I sav'd under your father ,
+Which I did store to be my foster-nurse
+When service should in my old limbs lie lame ,
+And unregarded age in corners thrown .
+Take that ; and He that doth the ravens feed ,
+Yea , providently caters for the sparrow ,
+Be comfort to my age ! Here is the gold ;
+All this I give you . Let me be your servant :
+Though I look old , yet I am strong and lusty ;
+For in my youth I never did apply
+Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood ,
+Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo
+The means of weakness and debility ;
+Therefore my age is as a lusty winter ,
+Frosty , but kindly . Let me go with you ;
+I'll do the service of a younger man
+In all your business and necessities .
+
+O good old man ! how well in thee appears
+The constant service of the antique world ,
+When service sweat for duty , not for meed !
+Thou art not for the fashion of these times ,
+Where none will sweat but for promotion ,
+And having that , do choke their service up
+Even with the having : it is not so with thee .
+But , poor old man , thou prun'st a rotten tree ,
+That cannot so much as a blossom yield ,
+In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry .
+But come thy ways , we'll go along together ,
+And ere we have thy youthful wages spent ,
+We'll light upon some settled low content .
+
+Master , go on , and I will follow thee
+To the last gasp with truth and loyalty .
+From seventeen years till now almost fourscore
+Here lived I , but now live here no more .
+At seventeen years many their fortunes seek ;
+But at fourscore it is too late a week :
+Yet fortune cannot recompense me better
+Than to die well and not my master's debtor .
+
+
+O Jupiter ! how weary are my spirits .
+
+I care not for my spirits if my legs were not weary .
+
+I could find it in my heart to disgrace my man's apparel and to cry like a woman ; but I must comfort the weaker vessel , as doublet and hose ought to show itself courageous to petticoat : therefore , courage , good Aliena .
+
+I pray you , bear with me : I cannot go no further .
+
+For my part , I had rather bear with you than bear you ; yet I should bear no cross if I did bear you , for I think you have no money in your purse .
+
+Well , this is the forest of Arden .
+
+Ay , now am I in Arden ; the more fool I : when I was at home , I was in a better place : but travellers must be content .
+
+Ay , be so , good Touchstone . Look you , who comes here ; a young man and an old in solemn talk .
+
+
+That is the way to make her scorn you still .
+
+O Corin , that thou knew'st how I do love her !
+
+I partly guess , for I have lov'd ere now .
+
+No , Corin ; being old , thou canst not guess ,
+Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover
+As ever sigh'd upon a midnight pillow :
+But if thy love were ever like to mine ,
+As sure I think did never man love so ,
+How many actions most ridiculous
+Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy ?
+
+Into a thousand that I have forgotten .
+
+O ! thou didst then ne'er love so heartily .
+If thou remember'st not the slightest folly
+That ever love did make thee run into ,
+Thou hast not lov'd :
+Or if thou hast not sat as I do now ,
+Wearing thy hearer with thy mistress' praise ,
+Thou hast not lov'd :
+Or if thou hast not broke from company
+Abruptly , as my passion now makes me ,
+Thou hast not lov'd . O Phebe , Phebe , Phebe !
+
+
+Alas , poor shepherd ! searching of thy wound ,
+I have by hard adventure found mine own .
+
+And I mine . I remember , when I was in love I broke my sword upon a stone , and bid him take that for coming a-night to Jane Smile ; and I remember the kissing of her batler , and the cow's dugs that her pretty chopped hands had milked ; and I remember the wooing of a peascod instead of her , from whom I took two cods , and giving her them again , said with weeping tears , 'Wear these for my sake .' We that are true lovers run into strange capers ; but as all is mortal in nature , so is all nature in love mortal in folly .
+
+Thou speakest wiser than thou art ware of .
+
+Nay , I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit till I break my shins against it .
+
+Jove , Jove ! this shepherd's passion
+Is much upon my fashion .
+
+And mine ; but it grows something stale with me .
+
+I pray you , one of you question yond man ,
+If he for gold will give us any food :
+I faint almost to death .
+
+Holla , you clown !
+
+Peace , fool : he's not thy kinsman .
+
+Who calls ?
+
+Your betters , sir .
+
+Else are they very wretched .
+
+Peace , I say . Good even to you , friend .
+
+And to you , gentle sir , and to you all .
+
+I prithee , shepherd , if that love or gold
+Can in this desert place buy entertainment ,
+Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed .
+Here's a young maid with travel much oppress'd ,
+And faints for succour .
+
+Fair sir , I pity her ,
+And wish , for her sake more than for mine own ,
+My fortunes were more able to relieve her ;
+But I am shepherd to another man ,
+And do not shear the fleeces that I graze :
+My master is of churlish disposition
+And little recks to find the way to heaven
+By doing deeds of hospitality .
+Besides , his cote , his flocks , and bounds of feed
+Are now on sale ; and at our sheepcote now ,
+By reason of his absence , there is nothing
+That you will feed on ; but what is , come see ,
+And in my voice most welcome shall you be .
+
+What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture ?
+
+That young swain that you saw here but erewhile ,
+That little cares for buying anything .
+
+I pray thee , if it stand with honesty ,
+Buy thou the cottage , pasture , and the flock ,
+And thou shalt have to pay for it of us .
+
+And we will mend thy wages . I like this place ,
+And willingly could waste my time in it .
+
+Assuredly the thing is to be sold :
+Go with me : if you like upon report
+The soil , the profit , and this kind of life ,
+I will your very faithful feeder be ,
+And buy it with your gold right suddenly .
+
+
+Under the greenwood tree
+Who loves to lie with me ,
+And turn his merry note
+Unto the sweet bird's throat ,
+Come hither , come hither , come hither :
+Here shall he see
+No enemy
+But winter and rough weather .
+
+More , more , I prithee , more .
+
+It will make you melancholy , Monsieur Jaques .
+
+I thank it . More ! I prithee , more . I can suck melancholy out of a song as a weasel sucks eggs . More ! I prithee , more .
+
+My voice is ragged ; I know I cannot please you .
+
+I do not desire you to please me ; I do desire you to sing . Come , more ; another stanzo : call you them stanzos ?
+
+What you will , Monsieur Jaques .
+
+Nay , I care not for their names ; they owe me nothing . Will you sing ?
+
+More at your request than to please myself .
+
+Well then , if ever I thank any man , I'll thank you : but that they call compliment is like the encounter of two dog-apes , and when a man thanks me heartily , methinks I have given him a penny and he renders me the beggarly thanks . Come , sing ; and you that will not , hold your tongues .
+
+Well , I'll end the song . Sirs , cover the while ; the duke will drink under this tree . He hath been all this day to look you .
+
+And I have been all this day to avoid him . He is too disputable for my company : I think of as many matters as he , but I give heaven thanks , and make no boast of them . Come , warble ; come .
+
+Who doth ambition shun ,
+
+And loves to live i' the sun ,
+Secking the food he eats ,
+And pleas'd with what he gets .
+Come hither , come hither , come hither :
+Here shall he see
+No enemy
+But winter and rough weather .
+
+I'll give you a verse to this note , that I made yesterday in despite of my invention .
+
+And I'll sing it .
+
+Thus it goes :
+
+If it do come to pass
+That any man turn ass ,
+Leaving his wealth and ease ,
+A stubborn will to please ,
+Ducdame , ducdame , ducdame :
+Here shall he see
+Gross fools as he ,
+An if he will come to me .
+
+
+What's that 'ducdame ?'
+
+'Tis a Greek invocation to call fools into a circle . I'll go sleep if I can ; if I cannot , I'll rail against all the first-born of Egypt .
+
+And I'll go seek the duke : his banquet is prepared .
+
+
+Dear master , I can go no further : O ! I die for food . Here lie I down , and measure out my grave . Farewell , kind master .
+
+Why , how now , Adam ! no greater heart in thee ? Live a little ; comfort a little ; cheer thyself a little . If this uncouth forest yield anything savage , I will either be food for it , or bring it for food to thee . Thy conceit is nearer death than thy powers . For my sake be comfortable , hold death awhile at the arm's end , I will here be with thee presently , and if I bring thee not something to eat , I will give thee leave to die ; but if thou diest before I come , thou art a mocker of my labour . Well said ! thou lookest cheerly , and I'll be with thee quickly . Yet thou liest in the bleak air : come I will bear thee to some shelter , and thou shalt not die for lack of a dinner , if there live anything in this desert . Cheerly , good Adam .
+
+
+I think he be transform'd into a beast ,
+For I can nowhere find him like a man .
+
+My lord , he is but even now gone hence :
+Here was he merry , hearing of a song .
+
+If he , compact of jars , grow musical ,
+We shall have shortly discord in the spheres .
+Go , seek him : tell him I would speak with him .
+
+He saves my labour by his own approach .
+
+
+Why , how now , monsieur ! what a life is this ,
+That your poor friends must woo your company ?
+What , you look merrily !
+
+A fool , a fool ! I met a fool i' the forest ,
+A motley fool ; a miserable world !
+As I do live by food , I met a fool ;
+Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun ,
+And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms ,
+In good set terms , and yet a motley fool .
+'Good morrow , fool ,' quoth I . 'No , sir ,' quoth he ,
+'Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune .'
+And then he drew a dial from his poke ,
+And , looking on it with lack-lustre eye ,
+Says very wisely , 'It is ten o'clock ;
+Thus may we see ,' quoth he , 'how the world wags :
+'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine ,
+And after one hour more 'twill be eleven ;
+And so , from hour to hour we ripe and ripe ,
+And then from hour to hour we rot and rot ,
+And thereby hangs a tale .' When I did hear
+The motley fool thus moral on the time ,
+My lungs began to crow like chanticleer ,
+That fools should be so deep-contemplative ,
+And I did laugh sans intermission
+An hour by his dial . O noble fool !
+A worthy fool ! Motley's the only wear .
+
+What fool is this ?
+
+O worthy fool ! One that hath been a courtier ,
+And says , if ladies be but young and fair ,
+They have the gift to know it ; and in his brain ,
+Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit
+After a voyage ,he hath strange places cramm'd
+With observation , the which he vents
+In mangled forms . O that I were a fool !
+I am ambitious for a motley coat .
+
+Thou shalt have one .
+
+It is my only suit ;
+Provided that you weed your better judgments
+Of all opinion that grows rank in them
+That I am wise . I must have liberty
+Withal , as large a charter as the wind ,
+To blow on whom I please ; for so fools have :
+And they that are most galled with my folly ,
+They most must laugh . And why , sir , must they so ?
+The 'why' is plain as way to parish church :
+He that a fool doth very wisely hit
+Doth very foolishly , although he smart ,
+Not to seem senseless of the bob ; if not ,
+The wise man's folly is anatomiz'd
+Even by the squandering glances of the fool .
+Invest me in my motley ; give me leave
+To speak my mind , and I will through and through
+Cleanse the foul body of th' infected world ,
+If they will patiently receive my medicine .
+
+Fie on thee ! I can tell what thou wouldst do .
+
+What , for a counter , would I do , but good ?
+
+Most mischievous foul sin , in chiding sin :
+For thou thyself hast been a libertine ,
+As sensual as the brutish sting itself ;
+And all the embossed sores and headed evils ,
+That thou with licence of free foot hast caught ,
+Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world .
+
+Why , who cries out on pride ,
+That can therein tax any private party ?
+Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea ,
+Till that the weary very means do ebb ?
+What woman in the city do I name ,
+When that I say the city-woman bears
+The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders ?
+Who can come in and say that I mean her ,
+When such a one as she such is her neighbour ?
+Or what is he of basest function ,
+That says his bravery is not on my cost ,
+Thinking that I mean him ,but therein suits
+His folly to the mettle of my speech ?
+There then ; how then ? what then ? Let me see wherein
+My tongue hath wrong'd him : if it do him right ,
+Then he hath wrong'd himself ; if he be free ,
+Why then , my taxing like a wild goose flies ,
+Unclaim'd of any man . But who comes here ?
+
+
+Forbear , and eat no more .
+
+Why , I have eat none yet .
+
+Nor shalt not , till necessity be serv'd .
+
+Of what kind should this cock come of ?
+
+Art thou thus bolden'd , man , by thy distress ,
+Or else a rude despiser of good manners ,
+That in civility thou seem'st so empty ?
+
+You touch'd my vein at first : the thorny point
+Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show
+Of smooth civility ; yet I am inland bred
+And know some nurture . But forbear , I say :
+He dies that touches any of this fruit
+Till I and my affairs are answered .
+
+An you will not be answered with reason ,
+I must die .
+
+What would you have ? Your gentleness shall force
+More than your force move us to gentleness .
+
+I almost die for food ; and let me have it .
+
+Sit down and feed , and welcome to our table .
+
+Speak you so gently ? Pardon me , I pray you :
+I thought that all things had been savage here ,
+And therefore put I on the countenance
+Of stern commandment . But whate'er you are
+That in this desert inaccessible ,
+Under the shade of melancholy boughs ,
+Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time ;
+If ever you have look'd on better days ,
+If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church ,
+If ever sat at any good man's feast ,
+If ever from your eyelids wip'd a tear ,
+And know what 'tis to pity , and be pitied ,
+Let gentleness my strong enforcement be :
+In the which hope I blush , and hide my sword .
+
+True is it that we have seen better days ,
+And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church ,
+And sat at good men's feasts , and wip'd our eyes
+Of drops that sacred pity hath engender'd ;
+And therefore sit you down in gentleness
+And take upon command what help we have
+That to your wanting may be minister'd .
+
+Then but forbear your food a little while ,
+Whiles , like a doe , I go to find my fawn
+And give it food . There is an old poor man ,
+Who after me hath many a weary step
+Limp'd in pure love : till he be first suffic'd ,
+Oppress'd with two weak evils , age and hunger ,
+I will not touch a bit .
+
+Go find him out ,
+And we will nothing waste till you return .
+
+I thank ye ; and be bless'd for your good comfort !
+
+
+Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy :
+This wide and universal theatre
+Presents more woful pageants than the scene
+Wherein we play in .
+
+All the world's a stage ,
+And all the men and women merely players :
+They have their exits and their entrances ;
+And one man in his time plays many parts ,
+His acts being seven ages . At first the infant ,
+Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms .
+And then the whining school-boy , with his satchel ,
+And shining morning face , creeping like snail
+Unwillingly to school . And then the lover ,
+Sighing like furnace , with a woful ballad
+Made to his mistress' eyebrow . Then a soldier ,
+Full of strange oaths , and bearded like the pard ,
+Jealous in honour , sudden and quick in quarrel ,
+Seeking the bubble reputation
+Even in the cannon's mouth . And then the justice ,
+In fair round belly with good capon lin'd ,
+With eyes severe , and beard of formal cut ,
+Full of wise saws and modern instances ;
+And so he plays his part . The sixth age shifts
+Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon ,
+With spectacles on nose and pouch on side ,
+His youthful hose well sav'd , a world too wide
+For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice ,
+Turning again toward childish treble , pipes
+And whistles in his sound . Last scene of all ,
+That ends this strange eventful history ,
+Is second childishness and mere oblivion ,
+Sans teeth , sans eyes , sans taste , sans everything .
+
+
+Welcome . Set down your venerable burden ,
+And let him feed .
+
+I thank you most for him .
+
+So had you need :
+I scarce can speak to thank you for myself .
+
+Welcome ; fall to : I will not trouble you
+As yet , to question you about your fortunes .
+Give us some music ; and , good cousin , sing .
+
+Blow , blow , thou winter wind ,
+Thou art not so unkind
+As man's ingratitude ;
+Thy tooth is not so keen ,
+Because thou art not seen ,
+Although thy breath be rude .
+Heigh-ho ! sing , heigh-ho ! unto the green holly :
+Most friendship is feigning , most loving mere folly .
+Then heigh-ho ! the holly !
+This life is most jolly .
+Freeze , freeze , thou bitter sky ,
+That dost not bite so nigh
+As benefits forgot :
+Though thou the waters warp ,
+Thy sting is not so sharp
+As friend remember'd not .
+Heigh-ho ! sing , heigh-ho ! unto the green holly :
+Most friendship is feigning , most loving mere folly .
+Then heigh-ho ! the holly !
+This life is most jolly .
+
+If that you were the good Sir Rowland's son ,
+As you have whisper'd faithfully you were ,
+And as mine eye doth his effigies witness
+Most truly limn'd and living in your face ,
+Be truly welcome hither : I am the duke
+That lov'd your father : the residue of your fortune ,
+Go to my cave and tell me . Good old man ,
+Thou art right welcome as thy master is .
+Support him by the arm . Give me your hand ,
+And let me all your fortunes understand .
+
+Not seen him since ! Sir , sir , that cannot be :
+But were I not the better part made mercy ,
+I should not seek an absent argument
+Of my revenge , thou present . But look to it :
+Find out thy brother , wheresoe'er he is ;
+Seek him with candle ; bring him , dead or living ,
+Within this twelvemonth , or turn thou no more
+To seek a living in our territory .
+Thy lands and all things that thou dost call thine
+Worth seizure , do we seize into our hands ,
+Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth
+Of what we think against thee .
+
+O that your highness knew my heart in this !
+I never lov'd my brother in my life .
+
+More villain thou . Well , push him out of doors ;
+And let my officers of such a nature
+Make an extent upon his house and lands .
+Do this expediently and turn him going .
+
+
+Hang there , my verse , in witness of my love :
+And thou , thrice-crowned queen of night , survey
+With thy chaste eye , from thy pale sphere above ,
+Thy huntress' name , that my full life doth sway .
+O Rosalind ! these trees shall be my books ,
+And in their barks my thoughts I'll character ,
+That every eye , which in this forest looks ,
+Shall see thy virtue witness'd everywhere .
+Run , run , Orlando : carve on every tree
+The fair , the chaste , and unexpressive she .
+
+And how like you this shepherd's life , Master Touchstone ?
+
+Truly , shepherd , in respect of itself , it is a good life ; but in respect that it is a shepherd's life , it is naught . In respect that it is solitary , I like it very well ; but in respect that it is private , it is a very vile life . Now , in respect it is in the fields , it pleaseth me well ; but in respect it is not in the court , it is tedious . As it is a spare life , look you , it fits my humour well ; but as there is no more plenty in it , it goes much against my stomach . Hast any philosophy in thee , shepherd ?
+
+No more but that I know the more one sickens the worse at ease he is ; and that he that wants money , means , and content , is without three good friends ; that the property of rain is to wet , and fire to burn ; that good pasture makes fat sheep , and that a great cause of the night is lack of the sun ; that he that hath learned no wit by nature nor art may complain of good breeding , or comes of a very dull kindred .
+
+Such a one is a natural philosopher . Wast ever in court , shepherd ?
+
+No , truly .
+
+Then thou art damned .
+
+Nay , I hope .
+
+Truly , thou art damned like an ill-roasted egg , all on one side .
+
+For not being at court ? Your reason .
+
+Why , if thou never wast at court , thou never sawest good manners ; if thou never sawest good manners , then thy manners must be wicked ; and wickedness is sin , and sin is damnation . Thou art in a parlous state , shepherd .
+
+Not a whit , Touchstone : those that are good manners at the court , are as ridiculous in the country as the behaviour of the country is most mockable at the court . You told me you salute not at the court , but you kiss your hands ; that courtesy would be uncleanly if courtiers were shepherds .
+
+Instance , briefly ; come , instance .
+
+Why , we are still handling our ewes , and their fells , you know , are greasy .
+
+Why , do not your courtier's hands sweat ? and is not the grease of a mutton as wholesome as the sweat of a man ? Shallow , shallow . A better instance , I say ; come .
+
+Besides , our hands are hard .
+
+Your lips will feel them the sooner : shallow again . A more sounder instance ; come .
+
+And they are often tarred over with the surgery of our sheep ; and would you have us kiss tar ? The courtier's hands are perfumed with civet .
+
+Most shallow man ! Thou worms-meat , in respect of a good piece of flesh , indeed ! Learn of the wise , and perpend : civet is of a baser birth than tar , the very uncleanly flux of a cat . Mend the instance , shepherd .
+
+You have too courtly a wit for me : I'll rest .
+
+Wilt thou rest damned ? God help thee , shallow man ! God make incision in thee ! thou art raw .
+
+Sir , I am a true labourer : I earn that I eat , get that I wear , owe no man hate , envy no man's happiness , glad of other men's good , content with my harm ; and the greatest of my pride is to see my ewes graze and my lambs suck .
+
+That is another simple sin in you , to bring the ewes and the rams together , and to offer to get your living by the copulation of cattle ; to be bawd to a bell-wether , and to betray a she-lamb of a twelvemonth to a crooked-pated , old , cuckoldy ram , out of all reasonable match . If thou be'st not damned for this , the devil himself will have no shepherds : I cannot see else how thou shouldst 'scape .
+
+Here comes young Master Ganymede , my new mistress's brother .
+
+From the east to western Ind ,
+No jewel is like Rosalind
+Her worth , being mounted on the wind ,
+Through all the world bears Rosalind .
+All the pictures fairest lin'd
+Are but black to Rosalind .
+Let no face be kept in mind ,
+But the fair of Rosalind .
+
+
+I'll rime you so , eight years together , dinners and suppers and sleeping hours excepted : it is the right butter-women's rank to market .
+
+Out , fool !
+
+For a taste :
+
+If a hart do lack a hind ,
+Let him seek out Rosalind .
+If the cat will after kind ,
+So be sure will Rosalind .
+Winter-garments must be lin'd ,
+So must slender Rosalind .
+They that reap must sheaf and bind ,
+Then to cart with Rosalind .
+Sweetest nut hath sourest rind ,
+Such a nut is Rosalind .
+He that sweetest rose will find
+Must find love's prick and Rosalind .
+
+This is the very false gallop of verses : why do you infect yourself with them ?
+
+Peace ! you dull fool : I found them on a tree .
+
+Truly , the tree yields bad fruit .
+
+I'll graff it with you , and then I shall graff it with a medlar : then it will be the earliest fruit i' the country ; for you'll be rotten ere you be half ripe , and that's the right virtue of the medlar .
+
+You have said ; but whether wisely or no , let the forest judge .
+
+
+Peace !
+Here comes my sister , reading : stand aside .
+
+
+Why should this a desert be ?
+For it is unpeopled ? No ;
+Tongues I'll hang on every tree ,
+That shall civil sayings show .
+Some , how brief the life of man
+Runs his erring pilgrimage ,
+That the stretching of a span
+Buckles in his sum of age ;
+Some , of violated vows
+'Twixt the souls of friend and friend :
+But upon the fairest boughs ,
+Or at every sentence' end ,
+Will I Rosalinda write ;
+Teaching all that read to know
+The quintessence of every sprite
+Heaven would in little show .
+Therefore Heaven Nature charg'd
+That one body should be fill'd
+With all graces wide enlarg'd :
+Nature presently distill'd
+Helen's cheek , but not her heart ,
+Cleopatra's majesty ,
+Atalanta's better part ,
+Sad Lucretia's modesty .
+Thus Rosalind of many parts
+By heavenly synod was devis'd
+Of many faces , eyes , and hearts ,
+To have the touches dearest priz'd .
+Heaven would that she these gifts should have ,
+And I to live and die her slave .
+
+
+O most gentle pulpiter ! what tedious homily of love have you wearied your parishioners withal , and never cried , 'Have patience , good people !'
+
+How now ! back , friends ! Shepherd , go off a little : go with him , sirrah .
+
+Come , shepherd , let us make an honourable retreat ; though not with bag and baggage , yet with scrip and scrippage .
+
+
+Didst thou hear these verses ?
+
+O , yes , I heard them all , and more too ; for some of them had in them more feet than the verses would bear .
+
+That's no matter : the feet might bear the verses .
+
+Ay , but the feet were lame , and could not bear themselves without the verse , and therefore stood lamely in the verse .
+
+But didst thou hear without wondering , how thy name should be hanged and carved upon these trees ?
+
+I was seven of the nine days out of the wonder before you came ; for look here what I found on a palm-tree : I was never so be-rimed since Pythagoras' time , that I was an Irish rat , which I can hardly remember .
+
+Trow you who hath done this ?
+
+Is it a man ?
+
+And a chain , that you once wore , about his neck . Change you colour ?
+
+I prithee , who ?
+
+O Lord , Lord ! it is a hard matter for friends to meet ; but mountains may be removed with earthquakes , and so encounter .
+
+Nay , but who is it ?
+
+Is it possible ?
+
+Nay , I prithee now , with most petitionary vehemence , tell me who it is .
+
+O wonderful , wonderful , and most wonderful wonderful ! and yet again wonderful ! and after that , out of all whooping !
+
+Good my complexion ! dost thou think , though I am caparison'd like a man , I have a doublet and hose in my disposition ? One inch of delay more is a South-sea of discovery ; I prithee , tell me who is it quickly , and speak apace . I would thou couldst stammer , that thou mightst pour this concealed man out of thy mouth , as wine comes out of a narrow-mouth'd bottle ; either too much at once , or none at all . I prithee , take the cork out of thy mouth , that I may drink thy tidings .
+
+So you may put a man in your belly .
+
+Is he of God's making ? What manner of man ? Is his head worth a hat , or his chin worth a beard ?
+
+Nay , he hath but a little beard .
+
+Why , God will send more , if the man will be thankful . Let me stay the growth of his beard , if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin .
+
+It is young Orlando , that tripped up the wrestler's heels and your heart both , in an instant .
+
+Nay , but the devil take mocking : speak , sad brow and true maid .
+
+I' faith , coz , 'tis he .
+
+Orlando ?
+
+Orlando .
+
+Alas the day ! what shall I do with my doublet and hose ? What did he when thou sawest him ? What said he ? How looked he ? Wherein went he ? What makes he here ? Did he ask for me ? Where remains he ? How parted he with thee , and when shalt thou see him again ? Answer me in one word .
+
+You must borrow me Gargantua's mouth first : 'tis a word too great for any mouth of this age's size . To say ay and no to these particulars is more than to answer in a catechism .
+
+But doth he know that I am in this forest and in man's apparel ? Looks he as freshly as he did the day he wrestled ?
+
+It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve the propositions of a lover ; but take a taste of my finding him , and relish it with good observance . I found him under a tree , like a dropped acorn .
+
+It may well be called Jove's tree , when it drops forth such fruit .
+
+Give me audience , good madam .
+
+Proceed .
+
+There lay he , stretch'd along like a wounded knight .
+
+Though it be pity to see such a sight , it well becomes the ground .
+
+Cry 'holla !' to thy tongue , I prithee ; it curvets unseasonably . He was furnish'd like a hunter .
+
+O , ominous ! he comes to kill my heart .
+
+I would sing my song without a burthen : thou bringest me out of tune .
+
+Do you not know I am a woman ? when I think , I must speak . Sweet , say on .
+
+You bring me out . Soft ! comes he not here ?
+
+'Tis he : slink by , and note him .
+
+
+I thank you for your company ; but , good faith , I had as lief have been myself alone .
+
+And so had I ; but yet , for fashion' sake , I thank you too for your society .
+
+God be wi' you : let's meet as little as we can .
+
+I do desire we may be better strangers .
+
+I pray you , mar no more trees with writing love-songs in their barks .
+
+I pray you mar no more of my verses with reading them ill-favouredly .
+
+Rosalind is your love's name ?
+
+Yes , just .
+
+I do not like her name .
+
+There was no thought of pleasing you when she was christened .
+
+What stature is she of ?
+
+Just as high as my heart .
+
+You are full of pretty answers . Have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths' wives , and conn'd them out of rings ?
+
+Not so ; but I answer you right painted cloth , from whence you have studied your questions .
+
+You have a nimble wit : I think 'twas made of Atalanta's heels . Will you sit down with me ? and we two will rail against our mistress the world , and all our misery .
+
+I will chide no breather in the world but myself , against whom I know most faults .
+
+The worst fault you have is to be in love .
+
+'Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue . I am weary of you .
+
+By my troth , I was seeking for a fool when I found you .
+
+He is drowned in the brook : look but in , and you shall see him .
+
+There I shall see mine own figure .
+
+Which I take to be either a fool or a cipher .
+
+I'll tarry no longer with you . Farewell , good Signior Love .
+
+I am glad of your departure . Adieu , good Monsieur Melancholy .
+
+
+I will speak to him like a saucy lackey , and under that habit play the knave with him . Do you hear , forester ?
+
+Very well : what would you ?
+
+I pray you , what is't o'clock ?
+
+You should ask me , what time o' day ; there's no clock in the forest .
+
+Then there is no true lover in the forest ; else sighing every minute and groaning every hour would detect the lazy foot of Time as well as a clock .
+
+And why not the swift foot of Time ? had not that been as proper ?
+
+By no means , sir . Time travels in divers paces with divers persons . I'll tell you who Time ambles withal , who Time trots withal , who Time gallops withal , and who he stands still withal .
+
+I prithee , who doth he trot withal ?
+
+Marry , he trots hard with a young maid between the contract of her marriage and the day it is solemnized ; if the interim be but a se'nnight , Time's pace is so hard that it seems the length of seven year .
+
+Who ambles Time withal ?
+
+With a priest that lacks Latin , and a rich man that hath not the gout ; for the one sleeps easily because he cannot study , and the other lives merrily because he feels no pain ; the one lacking the burden of lean and wasteful learning , the other knowing no burden of heavy tedious penury . These Time ambles withal .
+
+Who doth he gallop withal ?
+
+With a thief to the gallows ; for though he go as softly as foot can fall he thinks himself too soon there .
+
+Who stays it still withal ?
+
+With lawyers in the vacation ; for they sleep between term and term , and then they perceive not how Time moves .
+
+Where dwell you , pretty youth ?
+
+With this shepherdess , my sister ; here in the skirts of the forest , like fringe upon a petticoat .
+
+Are you native of this place ?
+
+As the cony , that you see dwell where she is kindled .
+
+Your accent is something finer than you could purchase in so removed a dwelling .
+
+I have been told so of many : but indeed an old religious uncle of mine taught me to speak , who was in his youth an inland man ; one that knew courtship too well , for there he fell in love . I have heard him read many lectures against it ; and I thank God , I am not a woman , to be touched with so many giddy offences as he hath generally taxed their whole sex withal .
+
+Can you remember any of the principal evils that he laid to the charge of women ?
+
+There were none principal ; they were all like one another as half-pence are ; every one fault seeming monstrous till his fellow fault came to match it .
+
+I prithee , recount some of them .
+
+No , I will not cast away my physic , but on those that are sick . There is a man haunts the forest , that abuses our young plants with carving 'Rosalind' on their barks ; hangs odes upon hawthorns , and elegies on brambles ; all , forsooth , deifying the name of Rosalind : if I could meet that fancy-monger , I would give him some good counsel , for he seems to have the quotidian of love upon him .
+
+I am he that is so love-shaked . I pray you , tell me your remedy .
+
+There is none of my uncle's marks upon you : he taught me how to know a man in love ; in which cage of rushes I am sure you are not prisoner .
+
+What were his marks ?
+
+A lean cheek , which you have not ; a blue eye and sunken , which you have not ; an unquestionable spirit , which you have not ; a beard neglected , which you have not : but I pardon you for that , for , simply , your having in beard is a younger brother's revenue . Then , your hose should be ungartered , your bonnet unbanded , your sleeve unbuttoned , your shoe untied , and everything about you demonstrating a careless desolation . But you are no such man : you are rather point-device in your accoutrements ; as loving yourself than seeming the lover of any other .
+
+Fair youth , I would I could make thee believe I love .
+
+Me believe it ! you may as soon make her that you love believe it ; which , I warrant , she is apter to do than to confess she does ; that is one of the points in the which women still give the lie to their consciences . But , in good sooth , are you he that hangs the verses on the trees , wherein Rosalind is so admired ?
+
+I swear to thee , youth , by the white hand of Rosalind , I am that he , that unfortunate he .
+
+But are you so much in love as your rimes speak ?
+
+Neither rime nor reason can express how much .
+
+Love is merely a madness , and , I tell you , deserves as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do ; and the reason why they are not so punished and cured is , that the lunacy is so ordinary that the whippers are in love too . Yet I profess curing it by counsel .
+
+Did you ever cure any so ?
+
+Yes , one ; and in this manner . He was to imagine me his love , his mistress ; and I set him every day to woo me : at which time would I , being but a moonish youth , grieve , be effeminate , changeable , longing and liking ; proud , fantastical , apish , shallow , inconstant , full of tears , full of smiles , for every passion something , and for no passion truly anything , as boys and women are , for the most part , cattle of this colour ; would now like him , now loathe him ; then entertain him , then forswear him ; now weep for him , then spit at him ; that I drave my suitor from his mad humour of love to a living humour of madness , which was , to forswear the full stream of the world , and to live in a nook merely monastic . And thus I cured him ; and this way will I take upon me to wash your liver as clean as a sound sheep's heart , that there shall not be one spot of love in't .
+
+I would not be cured , youth .
+
+I would cure you , if you would but call me Rosalind , and come every day to my cote and woo me .
+
+Now , by the faith of my love , I will : tell me where it is .
+
+Go with me to it and I'll show it you ; and by the way you shall tell me where in the forest you live . Will you go ?
+
+With all my heart , good youth .
+
+Nay , you must call me Rosalind . Come , sister , will you go ?
+
+
+Come apace , good Audrey : I will fetch up your goats , Audrey . And how , Audrey ? am I the man yet ? doth my simple feature content you ?
+
+Your features ! Lord warrant us ! what features ?
+
+I am here with thee and thy goats , as the most capricious poet , honest Ovid , was among the Goths .
+
+O knowledge ill-inhabited , worse than Jove in a thatch'd house !
+
+When a man's verses cannot be understood , nor a man's good wit seconded with the forward child Understanding , it strikes a man more dead than a great reckoning in a little room . Truly , I would the gods had made thee poetical .
+
+I do not know what 'poetical' is . Is it honest in deed and word ? Is it a true thing ?
+
+No , truly , for the truest poetry is the most feigning ; and lovers are given to poetry , and what they swear in poetry may be said as lovers they do feign .
+
+Do you wish then that the gods had made me poetical ?
+
+I do , truly ; for thou swearest to me thou art honest : now , if thou wert a poet , I might have some hope thou didst feign .
+
+Would you not have me honest ?
+
+No , truly , unless thou wert hard-favour'd ; for honesty coupled to beauty is to have honey a sauce to sugar .
+
+A material fool .
+
+Well , I am not fair , and therefore I pray the gods make me honest .
+
+Truly , and to cast away honesty upon a foul slut were to put good meat into an unclean dish .
+
+I am not a slut , though I thank the gods I am foul .
+
+Well , praised be the gods for thy foulness ! sluttishness may come hereafter . But be it as it may be , I will marry thee ; and to that end I have been with Sir Oliver Martext , the vicar of the next village , who hath promised to meet me in this place of the forest , and to couple us .
+
+I would fain see this meeting .
+
+Well , the gods give us joy !
+
+Amen . A man may , if he were of a fearful heart , stagger in this attempt ; for here we have no temple but the wood , no assembly but horn-beasts . But what though ? Courage ! As horns are odious , they are necessary . It is said , 'many a man knows no end of his goods :' right ; many a man has good horns , and knows no end of them . Well , that is the dowry of his wife ; 'tis none of his own getting . Horns ? Even so . Poor men alone ? No , no ; the noblest deer hath them as huge as the rascal . Is the single man therefore blessed ? No : as a walled town is more worthier than a village , so is the forehead of a married man more honourable than the bare brow of a bachelor ; and by how much defence is better than no skill , by so much is a horn more precious than to want . Here comes Sir Oliver .
+
+Sir Oliver Martext , you are well met : will you dispatch us here under this tree , or shall we go with you to your chapel ?
+
+Is there none here to give the woman ?
+
+I will not take her on gift of any man .
+
+Truly , she must be given , or the marriage is not lawful .
+
+Proceed , proceed : I'll give her .
+
+Good even , good Master What-ye-call't . how do you , sir ? You are very well met : God 'ild you for your last company : I am very glad to see you : even a toy in hand here , sir : nay , pray be covered .
+
+Will you be married , motley ?
+
+As the ox hath his bow , sir , the horse his curb , and the falcon her bells , so man hath his desires ; and as pigeons bill , so wedlock would be nibbling .
+
+And will you , being a man of your breeding , be married under a bush , like a beggar ? Get you to church , and have a good priest that can tell you what marriage is : this fellow will but join you together as they join wainscot ; then one of you will prove a shrunk panel , and like green timber , warp , warp .
+
+I am not in the mind but I were better to be married of him than of another : for he is not like to marry me well , and not being well married , it will be a good excuse for me hereafter to leave my wife .
+
+Go thou with me , and let me counsel thee .
+
+Come , sweet Audrey :
+We must be married , or we must live in bawdry .
+Farewell , good Master Oliver : not
+
+O sweet Oliver !
+O brave Oliver !
+Leave me not behind thee :
+
+but ,
+
+Wind away ,
+Begone , I say ,
+I will not to wedding with thee .
+
+'Tis no matter : ne'er a fantastical knave of them all shall flout me out of my calling .
+
+
+Never talk to me : I will weep .
+
+Do , I prithee ; but yet have the grace to consider that tears do not become a man .
+
+But have I not cause to weep ?
+
+As good cause as one would desire ; therefore weep .
+
+His very hair is of the dissembling colour .
+
+Something browner than Judas's ; marry , his kisses are Judas's own children .
+
+I' faith , his hair is of a good colour .
+
+An excellent colour : your chesnut was ever the only colour .
+
+And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch of holy bread .
+
+He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana : a nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously ; the very ice of chastity is in them .
+
+But why did he swear he would come this morning , and comes not ?
+
+Nay , certainly , there is no truth in him .
+
+Do you think so ?
+
+Yes : I think he is not a pick-purse nor a horse-stealer ; but for his verity in love , I do think him as concave as a covered goblet or a worm-eaten nut .
+
+Not true in love ?
+
+Yes , when he is in ; but I think he is not in .
+
+You have heard him swear downright he was .
+
+'Was' is not 'is :' besides , the oath of a lover is no stronger than the word of a tapster ; they are both the confirmers of false reckonings . He attends here in the forest on the duke your father .
+
+I met the duke yesterday and had much question with him . He asked me of what parentage I was ; I told him , of as good as he ; so he laughed , and let me go . But what talk we of fathers , when there is such a man as Orlando ?
+
+O , that's a brave man ! he writes brave verses , speaks brave words , swears brave oaths , and breaks them bravely , quite traverse , athwart the heart of his lover ; as a puisny tilter , that spurs his horse but on one side , breaks his staff like a noble goose . But all's brave that youth mounts and folly guides . Who comes here ?
+
+
+Mistress and master , you have oft inquir'd
+After the shepherd that complain'd of love ,
+Who you saw sitting by me on the turf ,
+Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess
+That was his mistress .
+
+Well , and what of him ?
+
+If you will see a pageant truly play'd ,
+Between the pale complexion of true love
+And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain ,
+Go hence a little , and I shall conduct you ,
+If you will mark it .
+
+O ! come , let us remove :
+The sight of lovers feedeth those in love .
+Bring us to this sight , and you shall say
+I'll prove a busy actor in their play .
+
+
+Sweet Phebe , do not scorn me ; do not , Phebe :
+Say that you love me not , but say not so
+In bitterness . The common executioner ,
+Whose heart the accustom'd sight of death makes hard ,
+Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck
+But first begs pardon : will you sterner be
+Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops ?
+
+
+I would not be thy executioner :
+I fly thee , for I would not injure thee .
+Thou tell'st me there is murder in mine eye :
+'Tis pretty , sure , and very probable ,
+That eyes , that are the frail'st and softest things ,
+Who shut their coward gates on atomies ,
+Should be call'd tyrants , butchers , murderers !
+Now I do frown on thee with all my heart ;
+And , if mine eyes can wound , now let them kill thee ;
+Now counterfeit to swound ; why now fall down ;
+Or , if thou canst not , O ! for shame , for shame ,
+Lie not , to say mine eyes are murderers .
+Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee ;
+Scratch thee but with a pin , and there remains
+Some scar of it ; lean but upon a rush ,
+The cicatrice and capable impressure
+Thy palm some moment keeps ; but now mine eyes ,
+Which I have darted at thee , hurt thee not ,
+Nor , I am sure , there is no force in eyes
+That can do hurt .
+
+O dear Phebe ,
+If ever ,as that ever may be near ,
+You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy ,
+Then shall you know the wounds invisible
+That love's keen arrows make .
+
+But , till that time
+Come not thou near me ; and , when that time comes ,
+Afflict me with thy mocks , pity me not ;
+As , till that time I shall not pity thee .
+
+And why , I pray you ? Who might be your mother ,
+That you insult , exult , and all at once ,
+Over the wretched ? What though you have no beauty ,
+As by my faith , I see no more in you
+Than without candle may go dark to bed ,
+Must you be therefore proud and pitiless ?
+Why , what means this ? Why do you look on me ?
+I see no more in you than in the ordinary
+Of nature's sale-work . Od's my little life !
+I think she means to tangle my eyes too .
+No , faith , proud mistress , hope not after it :
+'Tis not your inky brows , your black silk hair ,
+Your bugle eyeballs , nor your cheek of cream ,
+That can entame my spirits to your worship .
+You foolish shepherd , wherefore do you follow her ,
+Like foggy south puffing with wind and rain ?
+You are a thousand times a properer man
+Than she a woman : 'tis such fools as you
+That make the world full of ill-favour'd children :
+'Tis not her glass , but you , that flatters her ;
+And out of you she sees herself more proper
+Than any of her lineaments can show her .
+But , mistress , know yourself : down on your knees ,
+And thank heaven , fasting , for a good man's love :
+For I must tell you friendly in your ear ,
+Sell when you can ; you are not for all markets .
+Cry the man mercy ; love him ; take his offer :
+Foul is most foul , being foul to be a scoffer .
+So take her to thee , shepherd . Fare you well .
+
+Sweet youth , I pray you , chide a year together :
+I had rather hear you chide than this man woo .
+
+He's fallen in love with her foulness , and she'll fall in love with my anger . If it be so , as fast as she answers thee with frowning looks , I'll sauce her with bitter words . Why look you so upon me ?
+
+For no ill will I bear you .
+
+I pray you , do not fall in love with me ,
+For I am falser than vows made in wine :
+Besides , I like you not . If you will know my house ,
+'Tis at the tuft of olives here hard by .
+Will you go , sister ? Shepherd , ply her hard .
+Come , sister . Shepherdess , look on him better ,
+And be not proud : though all the world could see ,
+None could be so abus'd in sight as he .
+Come , to our flock .
+
+
+Dead shepherd , now I find thy saw of might :
+'Who ever lov'd that lov'd not at first sight ?'
+
+Sweet Phebe ,
+
+Ha ! what sayst thou , Silvius ?
+
+Sweet Phebe , pity me .
+
+Why , I am sorry for thee , gentle Silvius .
+
+Wherever sorrow is , relief would be :
+If you do sorrow at my grief in love ,
+By giving love your sorrow and my grief
+Were both extermin'd .
+
+Thou hast my love : is not that neighbourly ?
+
+I would have you .
+
+Why , that were covetousness .
+Silvius , the time was that I hated thee ;
+And yet it is not that I bear thee love :
+But since that thou canst talk of love so well ,
+Thy company , which erst was irksome to me ,
+I will endure , and I'll employ thee too ;
+But do not look for further recompense
+Than thine own gladness that thou art employ'd .
+
+So holy and so perfect is my love ,
+And I in such a poverty of grace ,
+That I shall think it a most plenteous crop
+To glean the broken ears after the man
+That the main harvest reaps : loose now and then
+A scatter'd smile , and that I'll live upon .
+
+Know'st thou the youth that spoke to me erewhile ?
+
+Not very well , but I have met him oft ;
+And he hath bought the cottage and the bounds
+That the old carlot once was master of .
+
+Think not I love him , though I ask for him .
+'Tis but a peevish boy ; yet he talks well ;
+But what care I for words ? yet words do well ,
+When he that speaks them pleases those that hear .
+It is a pretty youth : not very pretty :
+But , sure , he's proud ; and yet his pride becomes him :
+He'll make a proper man : the best thing in him
+Is his complexion ; and faster than his tongue
+Did make offence his eye did heal it up .
+He is not very tall ; yet for his years he's tall :
+His leg is but so so ; and yet 'tis well :
+There was a pretty redness in his lip ,
+A little riper and more lusty red
+Than that mix'd in his cheek ; 'twas just the difference
+Betwixt the constant red and mingled damask .
+There be some women , Silvius , had they mark'd him
+In parcels as I did , would have gone near
+To fall in love with him ; but , for my part ,
+I love him not nor hate him not ; and yet
+Have more cause to hate him than to love him :
+For what had he to do to chide at me ?
+He said mine eyes were black and my hair black ;
+And , now I am remember'd , scorn'd at me .
+I marvel why I answer'd not again :
+But that's all one ; omittance is no quittance .
+I'll write to him a very taunting letter ,
+And thou shalt bear it : wilt thou , Silvius ?
+
+Phebe , with all my heart .
+
+I'll write it straight ;
+The matter's in my head and in my heart :
+I will be bitter with him and passing short .
+Go with me , Silvius .
+
+I prithee , pretty youth , let me be better acquainted with thee .
+
+They say you are a melancholy fellow .
+
+I am so ; I do love it better than laughing .
+
+Those that are in extremity of either are abominable fellows , and betray themselves to every modern censure worse than drunkards .
+
+Why , 'tis good to be sad and say nothing .
+
+Why , then , 'tis good to be a post .
+
+I have neither the scholar's melancholy , which is emulation ; nor the musician's , which is fantastical ; nor the courtier's , which is proud ; nor the soldier's , which is ambitious ; nor the lawyer's , which is politic ; nor the lady's , which is nice ; nor the lover's , which is all these : but it is a melancholy of mine own , compounded of many simples , extracted from many objects , and indeed the sundry contemplation of my travels , which , by often rumination , wraps me in a most humorous sadness .
+
+A traveller ! By my faith , you have great reason to be sad . I fear you have sold your own lands to see other men's ; then , to have seen much and to have nothing , is to have rich eyes and poor hands .
+
+Yes , I have gained my experience .
+
+And your experience makes you sad : I had rather have a fool to make me merry than experience to make me sad : and to travel for it too !
+
+
+Good day , and happiness , dear Rosalind !
+
+Nay then , God be wi' you , an you talk in blank verse .
+
+
+Farewell , Monsieur Traveller : look you lisp , and wear strange suits , disable all the benefits of your own country , be out of love with your nativity , and almost chide God for making you that countenance you are ; or I will scarce think you have swam in a gondola . Why , how now , Orlando ! where have you been all this while ? You a lover ! An you serve me such another trick , never come in my sight more .
+
+My fair Rosalind , I come within an hour of my promise .
+
+Break an hour's promise in love ! He that will divide a minute into a thousand parts , and break but a part of the thousandth part of a minute in the affairs of love , it may be said of him that Cupid hath clapped him o' the shoulder , but I'll warrant him heart-whole .
+
+Pardon me , dear Rosalind .
+
+Nay , an you be so tardy , come no more in my sight : I had as lief be wooed of a snail .
+
+Of a snail !
+
+Ay , of a snail ; for though he comes slowly , he carries his house on his head ; a better jointure , I think , than you make a woman : besides , he brings his destiny with him .
+
+What's that ?
+
+Why , horns ; that such as you are fain to be beholding to your wives for : but he comes armed in his fortune and prevents the slander of his wife .
+
+Virtue is no horn-maker ; and my Rosalind is virtuous .
+
+And I am your Rosalind ?
+
+It pleases him to call you so ; but he hath a Rosalind of a better leer than you .
+
+Come , woo me , woo me ; for now I am in a holiday humour , and like enough to consent . What would you say to me now , an I were your very very Rosalind ?
+
+I would kiss before I spoke .
+
+Nay , you were better speak first , and when you were gravelled for lack of matter , you might take occasion to kiss . Very good orators , when they are out , they will spit ; and for lovers lacking ,God warn us !matter , the cleanliest shift is to kiss .
+
+How if the kiss be denied ?
+
+Then she puts you to entreaty , and there begins new matter .
+
+Who could be out , being before his beloved mistress ?
+
+Marry , that should you , if I were your mistress ; or I should think my honesty ranker than my wit .
+
+What , of my suit ?
+
+Not out of your apparel , and yet out of your suit . Am not I your Rosalind ?
+
+I take some joy to say you are , because I would be talking of her .
+
+Well , in her person I say I will not have you .
+
+Then in mine own person I die .
+
+No , faith , die by attorney . The poor world is almost six thousand years old , and in all this time there was not any man died in his own person , videlicet , in a love-cause . Troilus had his brains dashed out with a Grecian club ; yet he did what he could to die before , and he is one of the patterns of love . Leander , he would have lived many a fair year , though Hero had turned nun , if it had not been for a hot mid-summer night ; for , good youth , he went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont , and being taken with the cramp was drowned ; and the foolish coroners of that age found it was 'Hero of Sestos .' But these are all lies : men have died from time to time , and worms have eaten them , but not for love .
+
+I would not have my right Rosalind of this mind ; for , I protest , her frown might kill me .
+
+By this hand , it will not kill a fly . But come , now I will be your Rosalind in a more coming-on disposition ; and ask me what you will , I will grant it .
+
+Then love me , Rosalind .
+
+Yes , faith will I , Fridays and Saturdays and all .
+
+And wilt thou have me ?
+
+Ay , and twenty such .
+
+What sayest thou ?
+
+Are you not good ?
+
+I hope so .
+
+Why then , can one desire too much of a good thing ?Come , sister , you shall be the priest and marry us .Give me your hand , Orlando . What do you say , sister ?
+
+Pray thee , marry us .
+
+I cannot say the words .
+
+You must begin ,'Will you , Orlando ,'
+
+Go to .Will you , Orlando , have to wife this Rosalind ?
+
+I will .
+
+Ay , but when ?
+
+Why now ; as fast as she can marry us .
+
+Then you must say , 'I take thee , Rosalind , for wife .'
+
+I take thee , Rosalind , for wife .
+
+I might ask you for your commission ; but , I do take thee , Orlando , for my husband : there's a girl goes before the priest ; and , certainly , a woman's thought runs before her actions .
+
+So do all thoughts ; they are winged .
+
+Now tell me how long you would have her after you have possessed her ?
+
+For ever and a day .
+
+Say 'a day ,' without the 'ever .' No , no , Orlando ; men are April when they woo , December when they wed : maids are May when they are maids , but the sky changes when they are wives . I will be more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock-pigeon over his hen ; more clamorous than a parrot against rain ; more new-fangled than an ape ; more giddy in my desires than a monkey : I will weep for nothing , like Diana in the fountain , and I will do that when you are disposed to be merry ; I will laugh like a hyen , and that when thou art inclined to sleep .
+
+But will my Rosalind do so ?
+
+By my life , she will do as I do .
+
+O ! but she is wise .
+
+Or else she could not have the wit to do this : the wiser , the waywarder : make the doors upon a woman's wit , and it will out at the casement ; shut that , and 'twill out at the key-hole ; stop that , 'twill fly with the smoke out at the chimney .
+
+A man that hath a wife with such a wit , he might say , 'Wit , whither wilt ?'
+
+Nay , you might keep that check for it till you met your wife's wit going to your neighbour's bed .
+
+And what wit could wit have to excuse that ?
+
+Marry , to say she came to seek you there . You shall never take her without her answer , unless you take her without her tongue . O ! that woman that cannot make her fault her husband's occasion , let her never nurse her child herself , for she will breed it like a fool .
+
+For these two hours , Rosalind , I will leave thee .
+
+Alas ! dear love , I cannot lack thee two hours .
+
+I must attend the duke at dinner : by two o'clock I will be with thee again .
+
+Ay , go your ways , go your ways ; I knew what you would prove , my friends told me as much , and I thought no less : that flattering tongue of yours won me : 'tis but one cast away , and so , come , death ! Two o'clock is your hour ?
+
+Ay , sweet Rosalind .
+
+By my troth , and in good earnest , and so God mend me , and by all pretty oaths that are not dangerous , if you break one jot of your promise or come one minute behind your hour , I will think you the most pathetical break-promise , and the most hollow lover , and the most unworthy of her you call Rosalind , that may be chosen out of the gross band of the unfaithful . Therefore , beware my censure , and keep your promise .
+
+With no less religion than if thou wert indeed my Rosalind : so , adieu .
+
+Well , Time is the old justice that examines all such offenders , and let Time try . Adieu .
+
+
+You have simply misused our sex in your love-prate : we must have your doublot and hose plucked over your head , and show the world what the bird hath done to her own nest .
+
+O coz , coz , coz , my pretty little coz , that thou didst know how many fathom deep I am in love ! But it cannot be sounded : my affection hath an unknown bottom , like the bay of Portugal .
+
+Or rather , bottomless ; that as fast as you pour affection in , it runs out .
+
+No ; that same wicked bastard of Venus , that was begot of thought , conceived of spleen , and born of madness , that blind rascally boy that abuses every one's eyes because his own are out , let him be judge how deep I am in love . I'll tell thee , Aliena , I cannot be out of the sight of Orlando : I'll go find a shadow and sigh till he come .
+
+And I'll sleep .
+
+
+Which is he that killed the deer ?
+
+Sir , it was I .
+
+Let's present him to the duke , like a
+Roman conqueror ; and it would do well to set the deer's horns upon his head for a branch of victory . Have you no song , forester , for this purpose ?
+
+Yes , sir .
+
+Sing it : 'tis no matter how it be in tune so it make noise enough .
+
+What shall he have that kill'd the deer ?
+His leather skin and horns to wear .
+Then sing him home
+
+Take thou no scorn to wear the horn ;
+It was a crest ere thou wast born :
+Thy father's father wore it ,
+And thy father bore it :
+The horn , the horn , the lusty horn
+Is not a thing to laugh to scorn
+
+
+How say you now ? Is it not past two o'clock ? And here much Orlando !
+
+I warrant you , with pure love and a troubled brain , he hath ta'en his bow and arrows , and is gone forth to sleep . Look , who comes here .
+
+
+My errand is to you , fair youth .
+My gentle Phebe did bid me give you this :
+
+I know not the contents ; but , as I guess
+By the stern brow and waspish action
+Which she did use as she was writing of it ,
+It bears an angry tenour : pardon me ;
+I am but as a guiltless messenger .
+
+Patience herself would startle at this letter ,
+And play the swaggerer : bear this , bear all :
+She says I am not fair ; that I lack manners ;
+She calls me proud , and that she could not love me
+Were man as rare as ph nix . 'Od's my will !
+Her love is not the hare that I do hunt :
+Why writes she so to me ? Well , shepherd , well ,
+This is a letter of your own device .
+
+No , I protest , I know not the contents :
+Phebe did write it .
+
+Come , come , you are a fool ,
+And turn'd into the extremity of love .
+I saw her hand : she has a leathern hand ,
+A freestone-colour'd hand ; I verily did think
+That her old gloves were on , but 'twas her hands :
+She has a housewife's hand ; but that's no matter :
+I say she never did invent this letter ;
+This is a man's invention , and his hand .
+
+Sure , it is hers .
+
+Why , 'tis a boisterous and a cruel style ,
+A style for challengers ; why , she defies me ,
+Like Turk to Christian : woman's gentle brain
+Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention ,
+Such Ethiop words , blacker in their effect
+Than in their countenance . Will you hear the letter ?
+
+So please you , for I never heard it yet ;
+Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty .
+
+She Phebes me . Mark how the tyrant writes .
+
+Art thou god to shepherd turn'd ,
+That a maiden's heart hath burn'd ?
+
+Can a woman rail thus ?
+
+Call you this railing ?
+
+Why , thy godhead laid apart ,
+Warr'st thou with a woman's heart ?
+
+Did you ever hear such railing ?
+
+Whiles the eye of man did woo me ,
+That could do no vengeance to me .
+
+Meaning me a beast .
+
+If the scorn of your bright eyne
+Have power to raise such love in mine ,
+Alack ! in me what strange effect
+Would they work in mild aspect .
+Whiles you chid me , I did love ,
+How then might your prayers move !
+He that brings this love to thee
+Little knows this love in me ;
+And by him seal up thy mind ;
+Whether that thy youth and kind
+Will the faithful offer take
+Of me and all that I can make ;
+Or else by him my love deny ,
+And then I'll study how to die .
+
+
+Call you this chiding ?
+
+Alas , poor shepherd !
+
+Do you pity him ? no , he deserves no pity . Wilt thou love such a woman ? What , to make thee an instrument and play false strains upon thee ! not to be endured ! Well , go your way to her , for I see love hath made thee a tame snake , and say this to her : that if she love me , I charge her to love thee : if she will not , I will never have her , unless thou entreat for her . If you be a true lover , hence , and not a word , for here comes more company .
+
+Good morrow , fair ones . Pray you if you know ,
+Where in the purlieus of this forest stands
+A sheepcote fenc'd about with olive-trees ?
+
+West of this place , down in the neighbour bottom :
+The rank of osiers by the murmuring stream
+Left on your right hand brings you to the place .
+But at this hour the house doth keep itself ;
+There's none within .
+
+If that an eye may profit by a tongue ,
+Then should I know you by description ;
+Such garments , and such years : 'The boy is fair ,
+Of female favour , and bestows himself
+Like a ripe sister : but the woman low ,
+And browner than her brother .' Are not you
+The owner of the house I did inquire for ?
+
+It is no boast , being ask'd , to say , we are .
+
+Orlando doth commend him to you both ,
+And to that youth he calls his Rosalind
+He sends this bloody napkin . Are you he ?
+
+I am : what must we understand by this ?
+
+Some of my shame ; if you will know of me
+What man I am , and how , and why , and where
+This handkercher was stain'd .
+
+I pray you , tell it .
+
+When last the young Orlando parted from you
+He left a promise to return again
+Within an hour ; and , pacing through the forest ,
+Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy ,
+Lo , what befell ! he threw his eye aside ,
+And mark what object did present itself :
+Under an oak , whose boughs were moss'd with age ,
+And high top bald with dry antiquity ,
+A wretched ragged man , o'ergrown with hair ,
+Lay sleeping on his back : about his neck
+A green and gilded snake had wreath'd itself ,
+Who with her head nimble in threats approach'd
+The opening of his mouth ; but suddenly ,
+Seeing Orlando , it unlink'd itself ,
+And with indented glides did slip away
+Into a bush ; under which bush's shade
+A lioness , with udders all drawn dry ,
+Lay couching , head on ground , with catlike watch ,
+When that the sleeping man should stir ; for 'tis
+The royal disposition of that beast
+To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead :
+This seen , Orlando did approach the man ,
+And found it was his brother , his elder brother .
+
+O ! I have heard him speak of that same brother ;
+And he did render him the most unnatural
+That liv'd 'mongst men .
+
+And well he might so do ,
+For well I know he was unnatural .
+
+But , to Orlando : did he leave him there ,
+Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness ?
+
+Twice did he turn his back and purpos'd so ;
+But kindness , nobler ever than revenge ,
+And nature , stronger than his just occasion ,
+Made him give battle to the lioness ,
+Who quickly fell before him : in which hurtling
+From miserable slumber I awak'd .
+
+Are you his brother ?
+
+Was it you he rescu'd ?
+
+Was't you that did so oft contrive to kill him ?
+
+'Twas I ; but 'tis not I . I do not shame
+To tell you what I was , since my conversion
+So sweetly tastes , being the thing I am .
+
+But , for the bloody napkin ?
+
+By and by .
+When from the first to last , betwixt us two ,
+Tears our recountments had most kindly bath'd ,
+As how I came into that desert place :
+In brief , he led me to the gentle duke ,
+Who gave me fresh array and entertainment ,
+Committing me unto my brother's love ;
+Who led me instantly unto his cave ,
+There stripp'd himself ; and here , upon his arm
+The lioness had torn some flesh away ,
+Which all this while had bled ; and now he fainted ,
+And cried , in fainting , upon Rosalind .
+Brief , I recover'd him , bound up his wound ;
+And , after some small space , being strong at heart ,
+He sent me hither , stranger as I am ,
+To tell this story , that you might excuse
+His broken promise ; and to give this napkin ,
+Dy'd in his blood , unto the shepherd youth
+That he in sport doth call his Rosalind .
+
+Why , how now , Ganymede ! sweet Ganymede !
+
+Many will swoon when they do look on blood .
+
+There is more in it . Cousin ! Ganymede !
+
+Look , he recovers .
+
+I would I were at home .
+
+We'll lead you thither . I pray you , will you take him by the arm ?
+
+Be of good cheer , youth . You a man ! You lack a man's heart .
+
+I do so , I confess it . Ah , sirrah ! a body would think this was well counterfeited . I pray you , tell your brother how well I counterfeited . Heigh-ho !
+
+This was not counterfeit : there is too great testimony in your complexion that it was a passion of earnest .
+
+Counterfeit , I assure you .
+
+Well then , take a good heart and counterfeit to be a man .
+
+So I do ; but , i' faith , I should have been a woman by right .
+
+Come ; you look paler and paler : pray you , draw homewards . Good sir , go with us .
+
+That will I , for I must bear answer back How you excuse my brother , Rosalind .
+
+I shall devise something . But , I pray you , commend my counterfeiting to him . Will you go ?
+
+We shall find a time , Audrey : patience , gentle Audrey .
+
+Faith , the priest was good enough , for all the old gentleman's saying .
+
+A most wicked Sir Oliver , Audrey ; a most vile Martext . But , Audrey , there is a youth here in the forest lays claim to you .
+
+Ay , I know who 'tis : he hath no interest in me in the world . Here comes the man you mean .
+
+
+It is meat and drink to me to see a clown . By my troth , we that have good wits have much to answer for : we shall be flouting ; we cannot hold .
+
+Good even , Audrey .
+
+God ye good even , William .
+
+And good even to you , sir .
+
+Good even , gentle friend . Cover thy head , cover thy head ; nay , prithee , be covered . How old are you , friend ?
+
+Five-and-twenty , sir .
+
+A ripe age . Is thy name William ?
+
+William , sir .
+
+A fair name . Wast born i' the forest here ?
+
+Ay , sir , I thank God .
+
+'Thank God ;' a good answer . Art rich ?
+
+Faith , sir , so so .
+
+'So so ,' is good , very good , very excellent good : and yet it is not ; it is but so so . Art thou wise ?
+
+Ay , sir , I have a pretty wit .
+
+Why , thou sayest well . I do now remember a saying , 'The fool doth think he is wise , but the wise man knows himself to be a fool .' The heathen philosopher , when he had a desire to eat a grape , would open his lips when he put it into his mouth ; meaning thereby that grapes were made to eat and lips to open . You do love this maid ?
+
+I do , sir .
+
+Give me your hand . Art thou learned ?
+
+No , sir .
+
+Then learn this of me : to have , is to have ; for it is a figure in rhetoric , that drink , being poured out of a cup into a glass , by filling the one doth empty the other ; for all your writers do consent that ipse is he : now , you are not ipse , for I am he .
+
+Which he , sir ?
+
+He , sir , that must marry this woman . Therefore , you clown , abandon ,which is in the vulgar , leave ,the society ,which in the boorish is , company ,of this female ,which in the common is , woman ; which together is , abandon the society of this female , or , clown , thou perishest ; or , to thy better understanding , diest ; or , to wit , I kill thee , make thee away , translate thy life into death , thy liberty into bondage . I will deal in poison with thee , or in bastinado , or in steel ; I will bandy with thee in faction ; I will o'errun thee with policy ; I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways : therefore tremble , and depart .
+
+Do , good William .
+
+God rest you merry , sir .
+
+Our master and mistress seek you : come , away , away !
+
+Trip , Audrey ! trip , Audrey ! I attend , I attend .
+
+
+Is't possible that on so little acquaintance you should like her ? that , but seeing , you should love her ? and , loving , woo ? and , wooing , she should grant ? and will you persever to enjoy her ?
+
+Neither call the giddiness of it in question , the poverty of her , the small acquaintance , my sudden wooing , nor her sudden consenting ; but say with me , I love Aliena ; say with her , that she loves me ; consent with both , that we may enjoy each other : it shall be to your good ; for my father's house and all the revenue that was old Sir Rowland's will I estate upon you , and here live and die a shepherd .
+
+You have my consent . Let your wedding be to-morrow : thither will I invite the duke and all's contented followers . Go you and prepare Aliena ; for , look you , here comes my Rosalind .
+
+
+God save you , brother .
+
+And you , fair sister .
+
+
+O ! my dear Orlando , how it grieves me to see thee wear thy heart in a scarf .
+
+It is my arm .
+
+I thought thy heart had been wounded with the claws of a lion .
+
+Wounded it is , but with the eyes of a lady .
+
+Did your brother tell you how I counterfeited to swound when he showed me your handkercher ?
+
+Ay , and greater wonders than that .
+
+O ! I know where you are . Nay , 'tis true : there was never anything so sudden but the fight of two rams , and C sar's thrasonical brag of 'I came , saw , and overcame :' for your brother and my sister no sooner met , but they looked ; no sooner looked but they loved ; no sooner loved but they sighed ; no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason ; no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy : and in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage which they will climb incontinent , or else be incontinent before marriage . They are in the very wrath of love , and they will together : clubs cannot part them .
+
+They shall be married to-morrow , and I will bid the duke to the nuptial . But , O ! how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes . By so much the more shall I to-morrow be at the height of heart-heaviness , by how much I shall think my brother happy in having what he wishes for .
+
+Why then , to-morrow I cannot serve your turn for Rosalind ?
+
+I can live no longer by thinking .
+
+I will weary you then no longer with idle talking . Know of me then ,for now I speak to some purpose ,that I know you are a gentleman of good conceit . I speak not this that you should bear a good opinion of my knowledge , insomuch I say I know you are ; neither do I labour for a greater esteem than may in some little measure draw a belief from you , to do yourself good , and not to grace me . Believe then , if you please , that I can do strange things . I have , since I was three years old , conversed with a magician , most profound in his art and yet not damnable . If you do love Rosalind so near the heart as your gesture cries it out , when your brother marries Aliena , shall you marry her . I know into what straits of fortune she is driven ; and it is not impossible to me , if it appear not inconvenient to you , to set her before your eyes to-morrow , human as she is , and without any danger .
+
+Speakest thou in sober meanings ?
+
+By my life , I do ; which I tender dearly , though I say I am a magician . Therefore , put you in your best array ; bid your friends ; for if you will be married to-morrow , you shall ; and to Rosalind , if you will . Look , here comes a lover of mine , and a lover of hers .
+
+
+Youth , you have done me much ungentleness ,
+To show the letter that I writ to you .
+
+I care not if I have : it is my study
+To seem despiteful and ungentle to you .
+You are there follow'd by a faithful shepherd :
+Look upon him , love him ; he worships you .
+
+Good shepherd , tell this youth what 'tis to love .
+
+It is to be all made of sighs and tears ;
+And so am I for Phebe .
+
+And I for Ganymede .
+
+And I for Rosalind .
+
+And I for no woman .
+
+It is to be all made of faith and service ;
+And so am I for Phebe .
+
+And I for Ganymede .
+
+And I for Rosalind .
+
+And I for no woman .
+
+It is to be all made of fantasy ,
+All made of passion , and all made of wishes ;
+All adoration , duty , and observance ;
+All humbleness , all patience , and impatience ;
+All purity , all trial , all obeisance ;
+And so am I for Phebe .
+
+And so am I for Ganymede .
+
+And so am I for Rosalind .
+
+And so am I for no woman .
+
+If this be so , why blame you me to love you ?
+
+If this be so , why blame you me to love you ?
+
+If this be so , why blame you me to love you ?
+
+Who do you speak to , 'Why blame you me to love you ?'
+
+To her that is not here , nor doth not hear .
+
+Pray you , no more of this : 'tis like the howling of Irish wolves against the moon .
+
+
+As you love Phebe , meet : and as I love no woman , I'll meet . So , fare you well : I have left you commands .
+
+I'll not fail , if I live .
+
+Nor I .
+
+Nor I .
+
+
+To-morrow is the joyful day , Audrey ; to-morrow will we be married .
+
+I do desire it with all my heart , and I hope it is no dishonest desire to desire to be a woman of the world . Here come two of the banished duke's pages .
+
+
+Well met , honest gentleman .
+
+By my troth , well met . Come , sit , sit , and a song .
+
+We are for you : sit i' the middle .
+
+Shall we clap into't roundly , without hawking or spitting , or saying we are hoarse , which are the only prologues to a bad voice ?
+
+I'faith , i'faith ; and both in a tune , like two gipsies on a horse .
+
+It was a lover and his lass ,
+With a hey , and a ho , and a hey nonino ,
+That o'er the green corn-field did pass ,
+In the spring time , the only pretty ring time ,
+When birds do sing , hey ding a ding , ding ;
+Sweet lovers love the spring .
+Between the acres of the rye ,
+With a hey , and a ho , and a hey nonino ,
+These pretty country folks would lie ,
+In the spring time , &c .
+This carol they began that hour ,
+With a hey , and a ho , and a hey nonino ,
+How that a life was but a flower
+In the spring time , &c .
+And therefore take the present time ,
+With a hey , and a ho , and a hey nonino ;
+For love is crowned with the prime
+In the spring time , &c .
+
+Truly , young gentlemen , though there was no great matter in the ditty , yet the note was very untuneable .
+
+You are deceived , sir : we kept time ; we lost not our time .
+
+By my troth , yes ; I count it but time lost to hear such a foolish song . God be wi' you ; and God mend your voices ! Come , Audrey .
+
+
+Dost thou believe , Orlando , that the boy
+Can do all this that he hath promised ?
+
+I sometimes do believe , and sometimes do not ;
+As those that fear they hope , and know they fear .
+
+
+Patience once more , whiles our compact is urg'd .
+
+
+You say , if I bring in your Rosalind ,
+You will bestow her on Orlando here ?
+
+That would I , had I kingdoms to give with her .
+
+And you say , you will have her when I bring her ?
+
+That would I , were I of all kingdoms king .
+
+You say , that you'll marry me , if I be willing ?
+
+That will I , should I die the hour after .
+
+But if you do refuse to marry me ,
+You'll give yourself to this most faithful shepherd ?
+
+So is the bargain .
+
+You say , that you'll have Phebe , if she will ?
+
+Though to have her and death were both one thing .
+
+I have promis'd to make all this matter even .
+Keep you your word , O duke , to give your daughter ;
+You yours , Orlando , to receive his daughter ;
+Keep your word , Phebe , that you'll marry me ,
+Or else , refusing me , to wed this shepherd ;
+Keep your word , Silvius , that you'll marry her ,
+If she refuse me : and from hence I go ,
+To make these doubts all even .
+
+
+I do remember in this shepherd boy
+Some lively touches of my daughter's favour .
+
+My lord , the first time that I ever saw him ,
+Methought he was a brother to your daughter ;
+But , my good lord , this boy is forest-born ,
+And hath been tutor'd in the rudiments
+Of many desperate studies by his uncle ,
+Whom he reports to be a great magician ,
+Obscured in the circle of this forest .
+
+
+There is , sure , another flood toward , and these couples are coming to the ark . Here comes a pair of very strange beasts , which in all tongues are called fools .
+
+Salutation and greeting to you all !
+
+Good my lord , bid him welcome . This is the motley-minded gentleman that I have so often met in the forest : he hath been a courtier , he swears .
+
+If any man doubt that , let him put me to my purgation . I have trod a measure ; I have flattered a lady ; I have been politic with my friend , smooth with mine enemy ; I have undone three tailors ; I have had four quarrels , and like to have fought one .
+
+And how was that ta'en up ?
+
+Faith , we met , and found the quarrel was upon the seventh cause .
+
+How seventh cause ? Good my lord , like this fellow .
+
+I like him very well .
+
+God 'ild you , sir ; I desire you of the like . I press in here , sir , amongst the rest of the country copulatives , to swear , and to forswear , according as marriage binds and blood breaks . A poor virgin , sir , an ill-favoured thing , sir , but mine own : a poor humour of mine , sir , to take that that no man else will . Rich honesty dwells like a miser , sir , in a poor house , as your pearl in your foul oyster .
+
+By my faith , he is very swift and sententious .
+
+According to the fool's bolt , sir , and such dulcet diseases .
+
+But , for the seventh cause ; how did you find the quarrel on the seventh cause ?
+
+Upon a lie seven times removed :bear your body more seeming , Audrey :as thus , sir . I did dislike the cut of a certain courtier's beard : he sent me word , if I said his beard was not cut well , he was in the mind it was : this is called 'the retort courteous .' If I sent him word again , it was not well cut , he would send me word , he cut it to please himself : this is called the 'quip modest .' If again , it was not well cut , he disabled my judgment : this is called the 'reply churlish .' If again , it was not well cut , he would answer , I spake not true : this is called the 'reproof valiant :' if again , it was not well cut , he would say , I lie : this is called the 'countercheck quarrelsome' : and so to the 'lie circumstantial ,' and the 'lie direct .'
+
+And how oft did you say his beard was not well cut ?
+
+I durst go no further than the 'lie circumstantial ,' nor he durst not give me the 'lie direct ;' and so we measured swords and parted .
+
+Can you nominate in order now the degrees of the lie ?
+
+O sir , we quarrel in print ; by the book , as you have books for good manners : I will name you the degrees . The first , the 'retort courteous ;' the second , the 'quip modest ;' the third , the 'reply churlish ;' the fourth , the 'reproof valiant ;' the fifth , the 'countercheck quarrelsome ;' the sixth , the 'lie with circumstance ;' the seventh , the 'lie direct .' All these you may avoid but the lie direct ; and you may avoid that too , with an 'if .' I knew when seven justices could not take up a quarrel ; but when the parties were met themselves , one of them thought but of an 'if ,' as 'If you said so , then I said so ;' and they shook hands and swore brothers . Your 'if' is the only peace-maker ; much virtue in 'if .'
+
+Is not this a rare fellow , my lord ? he's as good at any thing , and yet a fool .
+
+He uses his folly like a stalking-horse , and under the presentation of that he shoots his wit .
+
+
+Then is there mirth in heaven ,
+When earthly things made even
+Atone together .
+Good duke , receive thy daughter ;
+Hymen from heaven brought her ;
+Yea , brought her hither ,
+That thou mightst join her hand with his ,
+Whose heart within her bosom is .
+
+To you I give myself , for I am yours .
+
+
+To you I give myself , for I am yours .
+
+If there be truth in sight , you are my daughter .
+
+If there be truth in sight , you are my Rosalind .
+
+If sight and shape be true ,
+Why then , my love adieu !
+
+I'll have no father , if you be not he .
+
+
+I'll have no husband , if you be not he :
+
+
+Nor ne'er wed woman , if you be not she .
+
+
+Peace , ho ! I bar confusion :
+'Tis I must make conclusion
+Of these most strange events :
+Here's eight that must take hands
+To join in Hymen's bands ,
+If truth holds true contents .
+
+
+You and you no cross shall part :
+
+
+You and you are heart in heart :
+
+
+You to his love must accord ,
+Or have a woman to your lord :
+
+
+You and you are sure together ,
+As the winter to foul weather .
+Whiles a wedlock hymn we sing ,
+Feed yourselves with questioning ,
+That reason wonder may diminish ,
+How thus we met , and these things finish .
+
+
+Wedding is great Juno's crown :
+O blessed bond of board and bed !
+'Tis Hymen peoples every town ;
+High wedlock then be honoured .
+Honour , high honour , and renown ,
+To Hymen , god of every town !
+
+O my dear niece ! welcome thou art to me :
+Even daughter , welcome in no less degree .
+
+I will not eat my word , now thou art mine ;
+Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine .
+
+
+Let me have audience for a word or two :
+I am the second son of old Sir Rowland ,
+That bring these tidings to this fair assembly .
+Duke Frederick , hearing how that every day
+Men of great worth resorted to this forest ,
+Address'd a mighty power , which were on foot
+In his own conduct , purposely to take
+His brother here and put him to the sword :
+And to the skirts of this wild wood he came ,
+Where , meeting with an old religious man ,
+After some question with him , was converted
+Both from his enterprise and from the world ;
+His crown bequeathing to his banish'd brother ,
+And all their lands restor'd to them again
+That were with him exil'd . This to be true ,
+I do engage my life .
+
+Welcome , young man ;
+Thou offer'st fairly to thy brothers' wedding :
+To one , his lands withheld ; and to the other
+A land itself at large , a potent dukedom .
+First , in this forest , let us do those ends
+That here were well begun and well begot ;
+And after , every of this happy number
+That have endur'd shrewd days and nights with us ,
+Shall share the good of our returned fortune ,
+According to the measure of their states .
+Meantime , forget this new-fall'n dignity ,
+And fall into our rustic revelry .
+Play , music ! and you , brides and bridegrooms all ,
+With measure heap'd in joy , to the measures fall .
+
+Sir , by your patience . If I heard you rightly ,
+The duke hath put on a religious life ,
+And thrown into neglect the pompous court ?
+
+He hath .
+
+To him will I : out of these convertites
+There is much matter to be heard and learn'd .
+
+
+You to your former honour I bequeath ;
+Your patience and your virtue well deserve it :
+
+
+You to a love that your true faith doth merit :
+
+
+You to your land , and love , and great allies :
+
+
+You to a long and well-deserved bed :
+
+
+And you to wrangling ; for thy loving voyage
+Is but for two months victual'd . So , to your pleasures :
+I am for other than for dancing measures .
+
+Stay , Jaques , stay .
+
+To see no pastime , I : what you would have
+I'll stay to know at your abandon'd cave .
+
+
+Proceed , proceed : we will begin these rites ,
+As we do trust they'll end , in true delights .
+
+It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue ; but it is no more unhandsome than to see the lord the prologue . If it be true that good wine needs no bush , 'tis true that a good play needs no epilogue ; yet to good wine they do use good bushes , and good plays prove the better by the help of good epilogues . What a case am I in then , that am neither a good epilogue , nor cannot insinuate with you in the behalf of a good play ! I am not furnished like a beggar , therefore to beg will not become me : my way is , to conjure you ; and I'll begin with the women . I charge you , O women ! for the love you bear to men , to like as much of this play as please you : and I charge you , O men ! for the love you bear to women ,as I perceive by your simpering none of you hate them ,that between you and the women , the play may please . If I were a woman I would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleased me , complexions that liked me , and breaths that I defied not ; and , I am sure , as many as have good beards , or good faces , or sweet breaths , will , for my kind offer , when I make curtsy , bid me farewell .
+
+CYMBELINE
+
+You do not meet a man but frowns ; our bloods
+No more obey the heavens than our courtiers
+Still seem as does the king .
+
+But what's the matter ?
+
+His daughter , and the heir of 's kingdom , whom
+He purpos'd to his wife's sole son ,a widow
+That late he married ,hath referr'd herself
+Unto a poor but worthy gentleman . She's wedded ;
+Her husband banish'd , she imprison'd : all
+Is outward sorrow , though I think the king
+Be touch'd at very heart .
+
+None but the king ?
+
+He that hath lost her too ; so is the queen ,
+That most desir'd the match ; but not a courtier ,
+Although they wear their faces to the bent
+Of the king's looks , hath a heart that is not
+Glad at the thing they scowl at .
+
+And why so ?
+
+He that hath miss'd the princess is a thing
+Too bad for bad report ; and he that hath her ,
+I mean that married her , alack ! good man !
+And therefore banish'd is a creature such
+As , to seek through the regions of the earth
+For one his like , there would be something failing
+In him that should compare . I do not think
+So fair an outward and such stuff within
+Endows a man but he .
+
+You speak him far .
+
+I do extend him , sir , within himself ,
+Crush him together rather than unfold
+His measure duly .
+
+What's his name and birth ?
+
+I cannot delve him to the root : his father
+Was called Sicilius , who did join his honour
+Against the Romans with Cassibelan ,
+But had his titles by Tenantius whom
+He serv'd with glory and admir'd success ,
+So gain'd the sur-addition Leonatus ;
+And had , besides this gentleman in question ,
+Two other sons , who in the wars o' the time
+Died with their swords in hand ; for which their father
+Then old and fond of issue took such sorrow
+That he quit being , and his gentle lady ,
+Big of this gentleman , our theme , deceas'd
+As he was born . The king , he takes the babe
+To his protection ; calls him Posthumus Leonatus ;
+Breeds him and makes him of his bedchamber ,
+Puts to him all the learnings that his time
+Could make him the receiver of ; which he took ,
+As we do air , fast as 'twas minister'd ,
+And in's spring became a harvest ; liv'd in court ,
+Which rare it is to do most prais'd , most lov'd ;
+A sample to the youngest , to the more mature
+A glass that feated them , and to the graver
+A child that guided dotards ; to his mistress ,
+For whom he now is banish'd , her own price
+Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his virtue ;
+By her election may be truly read
+What kind of man he is .
+
+I honour him ,
+Even out of your report . But pray you , tell me ,
+Is she sole child to the king ?
+
+His only child .
+He had twosons ,if this be worth your hearing ,
+Mark it ,the eldest of them at three years old ,
+I' the swathing clothes the other , from their nursery
+Were stol'n ; and to this hour no guess in knowledge
+Which way they went .
+
+How long is this ago ?
+
+Some twenty years .
+
+That a king's children should be so convey'd ,
+So slackly guarded , and the search so slow ,
+That could not trace them !
+
+Howsoe'er 'tis strange ,
+Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at ,
+Yet is it true , sir .
+
+I do well believe you .
+
+We must forbear . Here comes the gentleman ,
+The queen , and princess .
+
+No , be assur'd you shall not find me , daughter ,
+After the slander of most step-mothers ,
+Evil-ey'd unto you ; you're my prisoner , but
+Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys
+That lock up your restraint . For you , Posthumus ,
+So soon as I can win the offended king ,
+I will be known your advocate ; marry , yet
+The fire of rage is in him , and 'twere good
+You lean'd unto his sentence with what patience
+Your wisdom may inform you .
+
+Please your highness ,
+I will from hence to-day .
+
+You know the peril :
+I'll fetch a turn about the garden , pitying
+The pangs of barr'd affections , though the king
+Hath charg'd you should not speak together .
+
+
+O !
+Dissembling courtesy . How fine this tyrant
+Can tickle where she wounds ! My dearest husband ,
+I something fear my father's wrath ; but nothing ,
+Always reserv'd my holy duty ,what
+His rage can do on me . You must be gone ;
+And I shall here abide the hourly shot
+Of angry eyes , not comforted to live ,
+But that there is this jewel in the world
+That I may see again .
+
+My queen ! my mistress !
+O lady , weep no more , lest I give cause
+To be suspected of more tenderness
+Than doth become a man . I will remain
+The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth .
+My residence in Rome at one Philario's ,
+Who to my father was a friend , to me
+Known but by letter ; thither write , my queen ,
+And with mine eyes I'll drink the words you send ,
+Though ink be made of gall .
+
+
+Be brief , I pray you ;
+If the king come , I shall incur I know not
+How much of his displeasure .
+
+Yet I'll move him
+To walk this way . I never do him wrong ,
+But he does buy my injuries to be friends ,
+Pays dear for my offences .
+
+
+Should we be taking leave
+As long a term as yet we have to live ,
+The loathness to depart would grow . Adieu !
+
+Nay , stay a little :
+Were you but riding forth to air yourself
+Such parting were too petty . Look here , love ;
+This diamond was my mother's ; take it , heart ;
+But keep it till you woo another wife ,
+When Imogen is dead .
+
+How ! how ! another ?
+You gentle gods , give me but this I have ,
+And sear up my embracements from a next
+With bonds of death !Remain , remain thou here
+
+While sense can keep it on ! And , sweetest , fairest ,
+As I my poor self did exchange for you ,
+To your so infinite loss , so in our trifles
+I still win of you ; for my sake wear this ;
+It is a manacle of love ; I'll place it
+Upon this fairest prisoner .
+
+
+O the gods !
+When shall we see again ?
+
+
+Alack ! the king !
+
+Thou basest thing , avoid ! hence , from my sight !
+If after this command thou fraught the court
+With thy unworthiness , thou diest . Away !
+Thou'rt poison to my blood .
+
+The gods protect you
+And bless the good remainders of the court !
+I am gone .
+
+
+There cannot be a pinch in death
+More sharp than this is .
+
+O disloyal thing ,
+That shouldst repair my youth , thou heap'st instead
+A year's age on me .
+
+I beseech you , sir ,
+Harm not yourself with your vexation ;
+I am senseless of your wrath ; a touch more rare
+Subdues all pangs , all fears .
+
+Past grace ? obedience ?
+
+Past hope , and in despair ; that way , past grace .
+
+That mightst have had the sole son of my queen !
+
+O bless'd , that I might not ! I chose an eagle
+And did avoid a puttock .
+
+Thou took'st a beggar ; wouldst have made my throne
+A seat for baseness .
+
+No ; I rather added
+A lustre to it .
+
+O thou vile one !
+
+Sir ,
+It is your fault that I have lov'd Posthumus ;
+You bred him as my playfellow , and he is
+A man worth any woman , overbuys me
+Almost the sum he pays .
+
+What ! art thou mad ?
+
+Almost , sir ; heaven restore me ! Would I were
+A neat-herd's daughter , and my Leonatus
+Our neighbour shepherd's son !
+
+Thou foolish thing !
+
+
+They were again together ; you have done
+Not after our command . Away with her ,
+
+And pen her up .
+
+Beseech your patience . Peace !
+Dear lady daughter , peace ! Sweet sovereign ,
+Leave us to ourselves , and make yourself some comfort
+Out of your best advice .
+
+Nay , let her languish
+A drop of blood a day ; and , being aged ,
+Die of this folly !
+
+
+Fie ! you must give way :
+
+Here is your servant . How now , sir ! What news ?
+
+My lord your son drew on my master .
+
+Ha !
+No harm , I trust , is done ?
+
+There might have been ,
+But that my master rather play'd than fought ,
+And had no help of anger ; they were parted
+By gentlemen at hand .
+
+I am very glad on 't .
+
+Your son's my father's friend ; he takes his part .
+To draw upon an exile ! O brave sir !
+I would they were in Afric both together ,
+Myself by with a needle , that I might prick
+The goer-back . Why came you from your master ?
+
+On his command : he would not suffer me
+To bring him to the haven ; left these notes
+Of what commands I should be subject to ,
+When 't pleas'd you to employ me .
+
+This hath been
+Your faithful servant ; I dare lay mine honour
+He will remain so .
+
+I humbly thank your highness .
+
+Pray , walk awhile .
+
+About some half-hour hence ,
+I pray you , speak with me . You shall at least
+Go see my lord aboard ; for this time leave me .
+
+
+Sir , I would advise you to shift a shirt ; the violence of action hath made you reek as a sacrifice . Where air comes out , air comes in ; there's none abroad so wholesome as that you vent .
+
+If my shirt were bloody , them to shift it . Have I hurt him ?
+
+No faith ; not so much as his patience .
+
+Hurt him ! his body's a passable carcass if he be not hurt ; it is a throughfare for steel if it be not hurt .
+
+His steel was in debt ; it went o' the backside the town .
+
+The villain would not stand me .
+
+No ; but he fled forward still , toward your face .
+
+Stand you ! You have land enough of your own ; but he added to your having , gave you some ground .
+
+As many inches as you have oceans . Puppies !
+
+I would they had not come between us .
+
+So would I till you had measured how long a fool you were upon the ground .
+
+And that she should love this fellow and refuse me !
+
+If it be a sin to make a true election , she is damned .
+
+Sir , as I told you always , her beauty and her brain go not together ; she's a good sign , but I have seen small reflection of her wit .
+
+She shines not upon fools , lest the reflection should hurt her .
+
+Come , I'll to my chamber . Would there had been some hurt done !
+
+I wish not so ; unless it had been the fall of an ass , which is no great hurt .
+
+You'll go with us ?
+
+I'll attend your lordship .
+
+Nay , come , let's go together .
+
+Well , my lord .
+
+
+I would thou grew'st unto the shores of the haven ,
+And question'dst every sail : if he should write ,
+And I not have it , 'twere a paper lost ,
+As offer'd mercy is . What was the last
+That he spake to thee ?
+
+It was his queen , his queen !
+
+Then wav'd his handkerchief ?
+
+And kiss'd it , madam .
+
+Senseless linen , happier therein than I !
+And that was all ?
+
+No , madam ; for so long
+As he could make me with this eye or ear
+Distinguish him from others , he did keep
+The deck , with glove , or hat , or handkerchief ,
+Still waving , as the fits and stirs of 's mind
+Could best express how slow his soul sail'd on ,
+How swift his ship .
+
+Thou shouldst have made him
+As little as a crow , or less , ere left
+To after-eye him .
+
+Madam , so I did .
+
+I would have broke mine eye-strings , crack'd them , but
+To look upon him , till the diminution
+Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle ,
+Nay , follow'd him , till he had melted from
+The smallness of a gnat to air , and then
+Have turn'd mine eye , and wept . But , good Pisanio ,
+When shall we hear from him ?
+
+Be assur'd , madam ,
+With his next vantage .
+
+I did not take my leave of him , but had
+Most pretty things to say ; ere I could tell him
+How I would think on him at certain hours
+Such thoughts and such , or I could make him swear
+The shes of Italy should not betray
+Mine interest and his honour , or have charg'd him ,
+At the sixth hour of morn , at noon , at mid-night ,
+To encounter me with orisons , for then
+I am in heaven for him ; or ere I could
+Give him that parting kiss which I had set
+Betwixt two charming words , comes in my father ,
+And like the tyrannous breathing of the north
+Shakes all our buds from growing .
+
+
+The queen , madam ,
+Desires your highness' company .
+
+Those things I bid you do , get them dispatch'd .
+I will attend the queen .
+
+Madam , I shall .
+
+
+Believe it , sir , I have seen him in Britain ; he was then of a crescent note , expected to prove so worthy as since he hath been allowed the name of ; but I could then have looked on him without the help of admiration , though the catalogue of his endowments had been tabled by his side and I to peruse him by items .
+
+You speak of him when he was less furnished than now he is with that which makes him both without and within .
+
+I have seen him in France : we had very many there could behold the sun with as firm eyes as he .
+
+This matter of marrying his king's daughter ,wherein he must be weighed rather by her value than his own ,words him , I doubt not , a great deal from the matter .
+
+And then , his banishment .
+
+Ay , and the approbation of those that weep this lamentable divorce under her colours are wonderfully to extend him ; be it but to fortify her judgment , which else an easy battery might lay flat , for taking a beggar without less quality . But how comes it , he is to sojourn with you ? How creeps acquaintance ?
+
+His father and I were soldiers together ; to whom I have been often bound for no less than my life . Here comes the Briton : let him be so entertained amongst you as suits , with gentlemen of your knowing , to a stranger of his quality .
+
+I beseech you all , be better known to this gentleman , whom I commend to you , as a noble friend of mine ; how worthy he is I will leave to appear hereafter , rather than story him in his own hearing .
+
+Sir , we have known together in Orleans .
+
+Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies , which I will be ever to pay and yet pay still .
+
+Sir , you o'er-rate my poor kindness . I was glad I did atone my countryman and you ; it had been pity you should have been put together with so mortal a purpose as then each bore , upon importance of so slight and trivial a nature .
+
+By your pardon , sir , I was then a young traveller ; rather shunned to go even with what I heard than in my every action to be guided by others' experiences ; but , upon my mended judgment ,if I offend not to say it is mended ,my quarrel was not altogether slight .
+
+Faith , yes , to be put to the arbitrement of swords , and by such two that would by all likelihood have confounded one the other , or have fallen both .
+
+Can we , with manners , ask what was the difference ?
+
+Safely , I think . 'Twas a contention in public , which may , without contradiction , suffer the report . It was much like an argument that fell out last night , where each of us fell in praise of our country mistresses ; this gentleman at that time vouching and upon warrant of bloody affirmation his to be more fair , virtuous , wise , chaste , constant , qualified , and less attemptable , than any the rarest of our ladies in France .
+
+That lady is not now living , or this gentleman's opinion by this worn out .
+
+She holds her virtue still and I my mind .
+
+You must not so far prefer her 'fore ours of Italy .
+
+Being so far provoked as I was in France , I would abate her nothing , though I profess myself her adorer , not her friend .
+
+As fair and as good a kind of hand-in-hand comparison had been something too fair and too good for any lady in Britain . If she went before others I have seen , as that diamond of yours outlustres many I have beheld , I could not but believe she excelled many ; but I have not seen the most precious diamond that is , nor you the lady .
+
+I praised her as I rated her ; so do I my stone .
+
+What do you esteem it at ?
+
+More than the world enjoys .
+
+Either your unparagoned mistress is dead , or she's outprized by a trifle .
+
+You are mistaken ; the one may be sold , or given ; or if there were wealth enough for the purchase , or merit for the gift ; the other is not a thing for sale , and only the gift of the gods .
+
+Which the gods have given you ?
+
+Which , by their graces , I will keep .
+
+You may wear her in little yours , but , you know , strange fowl light upon neighbouring ponds . Your ring may be stolen , too ; so your brace of unprizeable estimations , the one is but frail and the other causal ; a cunning thief , or a that way accomplished courtier , would hazard the winning both of first and last .
+
+Your Italy contains none so accomplished a courtier to convince the honour of my mistress , if , in the holding or loss of that , you term her frail . I do nothing doubt you have store of thieves ; notwithstanding I fear not my ring .
+
+Let us leave here , gentlemen .
+
+Sir , with all my heart . This worthy signior , I thank him , makes no stranger of me ; we are familiar at first .
+
+With five times so much conversation I should get ground of your fair mistress , make her go back , even to the yielding , had I admittance and opportunity to friend .
+
+No , no .
+
+I dare thereupon pawn the moiety of my estate to your ring , which , in my opinion , o'ervalues it something ; but I make my wager rather against your confidence than her reputation ; and , to bar your offence herein too , I durst attempt it against any lady in the world .
+
+You are a great deal abused in too bold a persuasion ; and I doubt not you sustain what you're worthy of by your attempt .
+
+What's that ?
+
+A repulse ; though your attempt , as you call it , deserves more ,a punishment too .
+
+Gentlemen , enough of this ; it came in too suddenly ; let it die as it was born , and , I pray you , be better acquainted .
+
+Would I had put my estate and my neighbour's on the approbation of what I have spoke !
+
+What lady would you choose to assail ?
+
+Yours ; whom in constancy you think stands so safe . I will lay you ten thousand ducats to your ring , that , commend me to the court where your lady is , with no more advantage than the opportunity of a second conference , and I will bring from thence that honour of hers which you imagine so reserved .
+
+I will wage against your gold , gold to it : my ring I hold dear as my finger ; 'tis part of it .
+
+You are afraid , and therein the wiser . If you buy ladies' flesh at a million a dram , you cannot preserve it from tainting . But I see you have some religion in you , that you fear .
+
+This is but a custom in your tongue ; you bear a graver purpose , I hope .
+
+I am the master of my speeches , and would undergo what's spoken , I swear .
+
+Will you ? I shall but lend my diamond till your return . Let there be covenants drawn between 's : my mistress exceeds in goodness the hugeness of your unworthy thinking ; I dare you to this match . Here's my ring .
+
+I will have it no lay .
+
+By the gods , it is one . If I bring you no sufficient testimony that I have enjoyed the dearest bodily part of your mistress , my ten thousand ducats are yours ; so is your diamond too : if I come off , and leave her in such honour as you have trust in , she your jewel , this your jewel , and my gold are yours ; provided I have your commendation for my more free entertainment .
+
+I embrace these conditions ; let us have articles betwixt us . Only , thus far you shall answer : if you make your voyage upon her and give me directly to understand that you have prevailed , I am no further your enemy ; she is not worth our debate : if she remain unseduced ,you not making it appear otherwise ,for your ill opinion , and the assault you have made to her chastity , you shall answer me with your sword .
+
+Your hand ; a covenant . We will have these things set down by lawful counsel , and straight away for Britain , lest the bargain should catch cold and starve . I will fetch my gold and have our two wagers recorded .
+
+Agreed .
+
+
+Will this hold , think you ?
+
+Signior Iachimo will not from it . Pray , let us follow 'em .
+
+
+Whiles yet the dew 's on ground , gather those flowers :
+Make haste ; who has the note of them ?
+
+I , madam .
+
+Dispatch .
+
+Now , Master doctor , have you brought those drugs ?
+
+Pleaseth your highness , ay ; here they are , madam :
+
+But I beseech your Grace , without offence ,
+My conscience bids me ask ,wherefore you have
+Commanded of me these most poisonous compounds ,
+Which are the movers of a languishing death ,
+But though slow , deadly ?
+
+I wonder , doctor ,
+Thou ask'st me such a question : have I not been
+Thy pupil long ? Hast thou not learn'd me how
+To make perfumes ? distil ? preserve ? yea , so
+That our great king himself doth woo me oft
+For my confections ? Having thus far proceeded ,
+Unless thou think'st me devilish ,is 't not meet
+That I did amplify my judgment in
+Other conclusions ? I will try the forces
+Of these thy compounds on such creatures as
+We count not worth the hanging ,but none human ,
+To try the vigour of them and apply
+Allayments to their act , and by them gather
+Their several virtues and effects .
+
+Your highness
+Shall from this practice but make hard your heart ;
+Besides , the seeing these effects will be
+Both noisome and infectious .
+
+O ! content thee .
+
+
+Here comes a flattering rascal ; upon him
+Will I first work : he's for his master ,
+And enemy to my son . How now , Pisanio :
+Doctor , your service for this time is ended ;
+
+Take your own way .
+
+I do suspect you , madam ;
+But you shall do no harm .
+
+Hark thee , a word .
+
+I do not like her . She doth think she has
+Strange lingering poisons ; I do know her spirit ,
+And will not trust one of her malice with
+A drug of such damn'd nature . Those she has
+Will stupify and dull the sense awhile ;
+Which first , perchance , she'll prove on cats and dogs ,
+Then afterward up higher ; but there is
+No danger in what show of death it makes ,
+More than the locking-up the spirits a time ,
+To be more fresh , reviving . She is fool'd
+With a most false effect ; and I the truer ,
+So to be false with her .
+
+No further service , doctor ,
+Until I send for thee .
+
+I humbly take my leave .
+
+
+Weeps she still , sayst thou ? Dost thou think in time
+She will not quench , and let instructions enter
+Where folly now possesses ? Do thou work :
+When thou shalt bring me word she loves my son ,
+I'll tell thee on the instant thou art then
+As great as is thy master ; greater , for
+His fortunes all lie speechless , and his name
+Is at last gasp ; return he cannot , nor
+Continue where he is ; to shift his being
+Is to exchange one misery with another ,
+And every day that comes comes to decay
+A day's work in him . What shalt thou expect ,
+To be depender on a thing that leans ,
+Who cannot be new built , nor has no friends ,
+So much as but to prop him ?
+
+Thou tak'st up
+Thou know'st not what ; but take it for thy labour :
+It is a thing I made , which hath the king
+Five times redeem'd from death ; I do not know
+What is more cordial : nay , I prithee , take it ;
+It is an earnest of a further good
+That I mean to thee . Tell thy mistress how
+The case stands with her ; do 't as from thyself .
+Think what a chance thou changest on , but think
+Thou hast thy mistress still , to boot , my son ,
+Who shall take notice of thee . I'll move the king
+To any shape of thy preferment such
+As thou'lt desire ; and then myself , I chiefly ,
+That set thee on to this desert , am bound
+To load thy merit richly . Call my women ;
+Think on my words .
+
+A sly and constant knave ,
+Not to be shak'd ; the agent for his master ,
+And the remembrancer of her to hold
+The hand-fast to her lord . I have given him that
+Which , if he take , shall quite unpeople her
+Of leigers for her sweet , and which she after ,
+Except she bend her humour , shall be assur'd
+To taste of too .
+
+
+So , so ;well done , well done .
+The violets , cowslips , and the prime-roses
+Bear to my closet . Fare thee well , Pisanio :
+Think on my words .
+
+And shall do :
+But when to my good lord I prove untrue ,
+I'll choke myself ; there's all I'll do for you .
+
+
+A father cruel , and a step-dame false ;
+A foolish suitor to a wedded lady ,
+That hath her husband banish'd : O ! that husband ,
+My supreme crown of grief ! and those repeated
+Vexations of it ! Had I been thief-stol'n ,
+As my two brothers , happy ! but most miserable
+Is the desire that's glorious : bless'd be those ,
+How mean so'er , that have their honest wills ,
+Which seasons comfort . Who may this be ? Fie !
+
+
+Madam , a noble gentleman of Rome ,
+Comes from my lord with letters .
+
+Change you , madam ?
+The worthy Leonatus is in safety ,
+And greets your highness dearly .
+
+
+Thanks , good sir :
+You are kindly welcome .
+
+All of her that is out of door most rich !
+If she be furnish'd with a mind so rare ,
+She is alone the Arabian bird , and I
+Have lost the wager . Boldness be my friend !
+Arm me , audacity , from head to foot !
+Or , like the Parthian , I shall flying fight ;
+Rather , directly fly .
+
+He is one of the noblest note , to whose kindnesses I am most infinitely tied . Reflect upon him accordingly , as you value your truest
+So far I read aloud ;
+But even the very middle of my heart
+Is warm'd by the rest , and takes it thankfully .
+You are as welcome , worthy sir , as I
+Have words to bid you ; and shall find it so
+In all that I can do .
+
+Thanks , fairest lady .
+What ! are men mad ? Hath nature given them eyes
+To see this vaulted arch , and the rich crop
+Of sea and land , which can distinguish 'twixt
+The fiery orbs above and the twinn'd stones
+Upon the number'd beach ? and can we not
+Partition make with spectacles so precious
+'Twixt fair and foul ?
+
+What makes your admiration ?
+
+It cannot be i' the eye ; for apes and monkeys
+'Twixt two such shes would chatter this way and
+Contemn with mows the other ; nor i' the judgment ,
+For idiots in this case of favour would
+Be wisely definite ; nor i' the appetite ;
+Sluttery to such neat excellence oppos'd
+Should make desire vomit emptiness ,
+Not so allur'd to feed .
+
+What is the matter , trow ?
+
+The cloyed will ,
+That satiate yet unsatisfied desire , that tub
+Both fill'd and running ,ravening first the lamb ,
+Longs after for the garbage .
+
+What , dear sir ,
+Thus raps you ? are you well ?
+
+Thanks , madam , well .
+
+
+Beseech you , sir ,
+Desire my man's abode where I did leave him ;
+He's strange and peevish .
+
+I was going , sir ,
+To give him welcome .
+
+
+Continues well my lord his health , beseech you ?
+
+Well , madam .
+
+Is he dispos'd to mirth ? I hope he is .
+
+Exceeding pleasant ; none a stranger there
+So merry and so gamesome : he is call'd
+The Briton reveller .
+
+When he was here
+He did incline to sadness , and oft-times
+Not knowing why .
+
+I never saw him sad .
+There is a Frenchman his companion , one ,
+An eminent monsieur , that , it seems , much loves
+A Gallian girl at home ; he furnaces
+The thick sighs from him , whiles the jolly Briton
+Your lord , I mean laughs from 's free lungs , cries , 'O !
+Can my sides hold , to think that man , who knows
+By history , report , or his own proof ,
+What woman is , yea , what she cannot choose
+But must be , will his free hours languish for
+Assured bondage ?'
+
+Will my lord say so ?
+
+Ay , madam , with his eyes in flood with laughter :
+It is a recreation to be by
+And hear him mock the Frenchman ; but , heavens know ,
+Some men are much to blame .
+
+Not he , I hope .
+
+Not he ; but yet heaven's bounty towards him might
+Be us'd more thankfully . In himself , 'tis much ;
+In you ,which I account his beyond all talents ,
+Whilst I am bound to wonder , I am bound
+To pity too .
+
+What do you pity , sir ?
+
+Two creatures , heartily .
+
+Am I one , sir ?
+You look on me : what wrack discern you in me
+Deserves your pity ?
+
+Lamentable ! What !
+To hide me from the radiant sun and solace
+I' the dungeon by a snuff !
+
+I pray you , sir ,
+Deliver with more openness your answers
+To my demands . Why do you pity me ?
+
+That others do ,
+I was about to say , enjoy your But
+It is an office of the gods to venge it ,
+Not mine to speak on 't .
+
+You do seem to know
+Something of me , or what concerns me ; pray you ,
+Since doubting things go ill often hurts more
+Than to be sure they do ; for certainties
+Either are past remedies , or , timely knowing ,
+The remedy then born ,discover to me
+What both you spur and stop .
+
+Had I this cheek
+To bathe my lips upon ; this hand , whose touch ,
+Whose every touch , would force the feeler's soul
+To the oath of loyalty ; this object , which
+Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye ,
+Firing it only here ; should I damn'd then
+Slaver with lips as common as the stairs
+That mount the Capitol ; join gripes with hands
+Made hard with hourly falsehood ,falsehood , as
+With labour ;then by-peeping in an eye ,
+Base and illustrous as the smoky light
+That's fed with stinking tallow ; it were fit
+That all the plagues of hell should at one time
+Encounter such revolt .
+
+My lord , I fear ,
+Has forgot Britain .
+
+And himself . Not I ,
+Inclin'd to this intelligence , pronounce
+The beggary of his change ; but 'tis your graces
+That from my mutest conscience to my tongue
+Charms this report out .
+
+Let me hear no more .
+
+O dearest soul ! your cause doth strike my heart
+With pity , that doth make me sick . A lady
+So fair ,and fasten'd to an empery
+Would make the great'st king double ,to be partner'd
+With tom-boys hir'd with that self-exhibition
+Which your own coffers yield ! with diseas'd ventures
+That play with all infirmities for gold
+Which rottenness can lend nature ! such boil'd stuff
+As well might poison poison ! Be reveng'd ;
+Or she that bore you was no queen , and you
+Recoil from your great stock .
+
+Reveng'd !
+How should I be reveng'd ? If this be true ,
+As I have such a heart , that both mine ears
+Must not in haste abuse ,if it be true ,
+How should I be reveng'd ?
+
+Should be make me
+Live like Diana's priest , betwixt cold sheets ,
+Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps ,
+In your despite , upon your purse ? Revenge it .
+I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure ,
+More noble than that runagate to your bed ,
+And will continue fast to your affection ,
+Still close as sure .
+
+What ho , Pisanio !
+
+Let me my service tender on your lips .
+
+Away ! I do condemn mine ears that have
+So long attended thee . If thou wert honourable ,
+Thou wouldst have told this tale for virtue , not
+For such an end thou seek'st ; as base as strange .
+Thou wrong'st a gentleman , who is as far
+From thy report as thou from honour , and
+Solicit'st here a lady that disdains
+Thee and the devil alike . What ho , Pisanio !
+The king my father shall be made acquainted
+Of thy assault ; if he shall think it fit ,
+A saucy stranger in his court to mart
+As in a Romish stew and to expound
+His beastly mind to us , he hath a court
+He little cares for and a daughter who
+He not respects at all . What ho , Pisanio !
+
+O happy Leonatus ! I may say :
+The credit that thy lady hath of thee
+Deserves thy trust , and thy most perfect goodness
+Her assur'd credit . Blessed live you long !
+A lady to the worthiest sir that ever
+Country call'd his ; and you his mistress , only
+For the most worthiest fit . Give me your pardon .
+I have spoken this , to know if your affiance
+Were deeply rooted , and shall make your lord
+That which he is , new o'er ; and he is one
+The truest manner'd ; such a holy witch
+That he enchants societies into him ;
+Half all men's hearts are his .
+
+You make amends .
+
+He sits 'mongst men like a descended god :
+He hath a kind of honour sets him off ,
+More than a mortal seeming . Be not angry ,
+Most mighty princess , that I have adventur'd
+To try your taking of a false report ; which hath
+Honour'd with confirmation your great judgment
+In the election of a sir so rare ,
+Which you know cannot err . The love I bear him
+Made me to fan you thus ; but the gods made you ,
+Unlike all others , chaffless . Pray , your pardon .
+
+All's well , sir . Take my power i' the court for yours .
+
+My humble thanks . I had almost forget
+To entreat your Grace but in a small request ,
+And yet of moment too , for it concerns
+Your lord , myself , and other noble friends ,
+Are partners in the business .
+
+Pray , what is 't ?
+
+Some dozen Romans of us and your lord ,
+The best feather of our wing , have mingled sums
+To buy a present for the emperor ;
+Which I , the factor for the rest , have done
+In France ; 'tis plate of rare device , and jewels
+Of rich and exquisite form ; their values great ;
+And I am something curious , being strange ,
+To have them in safe stowage . May it please you
+To take them in protection ?
+
+Willingly ;
+And pawn mine honour for their safety : since
+My lord hath interest in them , I will keep them
+In my bedchamber .
+
+They are in a trunk ,
+Attended by my men ; I will make bold
+To send them to you , only for this night ;
+I must aboard to-morrow .
+
+O ! no , no .
+
+Yes , I beseech , or I shall short my word
+By lengthening my return . From Gallia
+I cross'd the seas on purpose and on promise
+To see your Grace .
+
+I thank you for your pains ;
+But not away to-morrow !
+
+O ! I must , madam :
+Therefore I shall beseech you , if you please
+To greet your lord with writing , do 't to-night :
+I have outstood my time , which is material
+To the tender of our present .
+
+I will write .
+Send your trunk to me ; it shall safe be kept ,
+And truly yielded you . You're very welcome .
+
+Was there ever man had such luck ! when I kissed the jack , upon an up-cast to be hit away ! I had a hundred pound on 't ; and then a whoreson jackanapes must take me up for swearing , as if I borrowed mine oaths of him and might not spend them at my pleasure .
+
+What got he by that ? You have broke his pate with your bowl .
+
+If his wit had been like him that broke it , it would have run all out .
+
+When a gentleman is disposed to swear , it is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths , ha ?
+
+No , my lord ;
+
+nor crop the ears of them .
+
+Whoreson dog ! I give him satisfaction !
+Would he had been one of my rank !
+
+To have smelt like a fool .
+
+I am not vexed more at any thing in the earth . A pox on 't ! I had rather not be so noble as I am . They dare not fight with me because of the queen my mother . Every Jack-slave hath his bellyful of fighting , and I must go up and down like a cock that nobody can match .
+
+You are cock and capon too ; and you crow , cock , with your comb on .
+
+Sayest thou ?
+
+It is not fit your lordship should undertake every companion that you give offence to .
+
+No , I know that ; but it is fit I should commit offence to my inferiors .
+
+Ay , it is fit for your lordship only .
+
+Why , so I say .
+
+Did you hear of a stranger that's come to court to-night ?
+
+A stranger , and I not know on 't !
+
+He's a strange fellow himself , and knows it not .
+
+There's an Italian come ; and 'tis thought , one of Leonatus' friends .
+
+Leonatus ! a banished rascal ; and he's another , whatsoever he be . Who told you of this stranger ?
+
+One of your lordship's pages .
+
+Is it fit I went to look upon him ? Is there no derogation in 't ?
+
+You cannot derogate , my lord .
+
+Not easily , I think .
+
+You are a fool , granted ; therefore your issues , being foolish , do not derogate .
+
+Come , I'll go see this Italian . What I have lost to-day at bowls I'll win to-night of him . Come , go .
+
+I'll attend your lordship .
+
+That such a crafty devil as is his mother
+Should yield the world this ass ! a woman that
+Bears all down with her brain , and this her son
+Cannot take two from twenty for his heart
+And leave eighteen . Alas ! poor princess ,
+Thou divine Imogen , what thou endur'st
+Betwixt a father by thy step-dame govern'd ,
+A mother hourly coining plots , a wooer
+More hateful than the foul expulsion is
+Of thy dear husband , than that horrid act
+Of the divorce he'd make . The heavens hold firm
+The walls of thy dear honour ; keep unshak'd
+That temple , thy fair mind ; that thou mayst stand ,
+To enjoy thy banish'd lord and this great land !
+
+
+Who's there ? my woman Helen ?
+
+Please you , madam .
+
+What hour is it ?
+
+Almost midnight , madam .
+
+I have read three hours then ; mine eyes are weak ;
+Fold down the leaf where I have left ; to bed :
+Take not away the taper , leave it burning ,
+And if thou canst awake by four o' the clock ,
+I prithee , call me . Sleep has seized me wholly .
+
+To your protection I commend me , gods !
+From fairies and the tempters of the night
+Guard me , beseech ye !
+
+
+The crickets sing , and man's o'erlabour'd sense
+Repairs itself by rest . Our Tarquin thus
+Did softly press the rushes ere he waken'd
+The chastity he wounded . Cytherea ,
+How bravely thou becom'st thy bed ! freshlily ,
+And whiter than the sheets ! That I might touch !
+But kiss : one kiss ! Rubies unparagon'd ,
+How dearly they do 't ! 'Tis her breathing that
+Perfumes the chamber thus ; the flame of the taper
+Bows toward her , and would under-peep her lids ,
+To see the enclosed lights , now canopied
+Under these windows , white and azure lac'd
+With blue of heaven's own tinct . But my design ,
+To note the chamber : I will write all down :
+Such and such pictures ; there the window ; such
+Th' adornment of her bed ; the arras , figures ,
+Why , such and such ; and the contents o' the story .
+Ah ! but some natural notes about her body ,
+Above ten thousand meaner moveables
+Would testify , to enrich mine inventory .
+O sleep ! thou ape of death , lie dull upon her ;
+And be her senses but as a monument
+Thus in a chapel lying . Come off , come off ;
+
+As slippery as the Gordian knot was hard !
+'Tis mine ; and this will witness outwardly ,
+As strongly as the conscience does within ,
+To the madding of her lord . On her left breast
+A mole cinque-spotted , like the crimson drops
+I' the bottom of a cowslip : here's a voucher ;
+Stronger than ever law could make : this secret
+Will force him think I have pick'd the lock and ta'en
+The treasure of her honour . No more . To what end ?
+Why should I write this down , that's riveted ,
+Screw'd to my memory ? She hath been reading late
+The tale of Tereus ; here the leaf's turn'd down
+Where Philomel gave up . I have enough :
+To the trunk again , and shut the spring of it .
+Swift , swift , you dragons of the night , that dawning
+May bare the raven's eye ! I lodge in fear ;
+Though this a heavenly angel , hell is here .
+
+One , two , three : time , time !
+
+
+Your lordship is the most patient man in loss , the most coldest that ever turned up ace .
+
+It would make any man cold to lose .
+
+But not every man patient after the noble temper of your lordship . You are most hot and furious when you win .
+
+Winning will put any man into courage .
+If I could get this foolish Imogen , I should have gold enough . It's almost morning , is 't not ?
+
+Day , my lord .
+
+I would this music would come . I am advised to give her music o' mornings ; they say it will penetrate .
+
+
+Come on ; tune . If you can penetrate her with your fingering , so ; we'll try with tongue too : if none will do , let her remain ; but I'll never give o'er . First , a very excellent good-conceited thing ; after , a wonderful sweet air , with admirable rich words to it : and then let her consider .
+
+
+Hark ! hark ! the lark at heaven's gate sings ,
+And Ph bus 'gins arise ,
+His steeds to water at those springs
+On chalic'd flowers that lies ,
+And winking Mary-buds begin
+To ope their golden eyes :
+With every thing that pretty is ,
+My lady sweet , arise .
+Arise , arise !
+
+
+So , get you gone . If this penetrate , I will consider your music the better ; if it do not , it is a vice in her ears , which horse-hairs and calves'-guts , nor the voice of unpaved eunuch to boot , can never amend .
+
+Here comes the king .
+
+I am glad I was up so late , for that's the reason I was up so early ; he cannot choose but take this service I have done fatherly .
+
+Good morrow to your majesty and to my gracious mother .
+
+Attend you here the door of our stern daughter ?
+Will she not forth ?
+
+I have assail'd her with musics , but she vouchsafes no notice .
+
+The exile of her minion is too new ,
+She hath not yet forgot him ; some more time
+Must wear the print of his remembrance out ,
+And then she's yours .
+
+You are most bound to the king ,
+Who lets go by no vantages that may
+Prefer you to his daughter . Frame yourself
+To orderly soliciting , and be friended
+With aptness of the season ; make denials
+Increase your services ; so seem as if
+You were inspir'd to do those duties which
+You tender to her ; that you in all obey her
+Save when command to your dismission tends ,
+And therein you are senseless .
+
+Senseless ! not so .
+
+
+So like you , sir , ambassadors from Rome ;
+The one is Caius Lucius .
+
+A worthy fellow ,
+Albeit he comes on angry purpose now ;
+But that's no fault of his : we must receive him
+According to the honour of his sender ;
+And towards himself , his goodness forespent on us ,
+We must extend our notice . Our dear son ,
+When you have given good morning to your mistress ,
+Attend the queen and us ; we shall have need
+To employ you towards this Roman . Come , our queen .
+
+
+If she be up , I'll speak with her ; if not ,
+Let her lie still , and dream . By your leave , ho !
+
+I know her women are about her . What
+If I do line one of their hands ? 'Tis gold
+Which buys admittance ; oft it doth ; yea , and makes
+Diana's rangers false themselves , yield up
+Their deer to the stand o' the stealer ; and 'tis gold
+Which makes the true man kill'd and saves the thief ;
+Nay , sometime hangs both thief and true man . What
+Can it not do and undo ? I will make
+One of her women lawyer to me , for
+I yet not understand the case myself .
+By your leave .
+
+Who's there , that knocks ?
+
+A gentleman .
+
+No more ?
+
+Yes , and a gentlewoman's son .
+
+That's more
+Than some whose tailors are as dear as yours
+Can justly boast of . What's your lordship's pleasure ?
+
+Your lady's person : is she ready ?
+
+Ay ,
+To keep her chamber .
+
+There's gold for you ; sell me your good report .
+
+How ! my good name ? or to report of you
+What I shall think is good ?The princess !
+
+
+Good morrow , fairest ; sister , your sweet hand .
+
+
+Good morrow , sir . You lay out too much pains
+For purchasing but trouble ; the thanks I give
+Is telling you that I am poor of thanks
+And scarce can spare them .
+
+Still , I swear I love you .
+
+If you but said so , 'twere as deep with me :
+If you swear still , your recompense is still
+That I regard it not .
+
+This is no answer .
+
+But that you shall not say I yield being silent
+I would not speak . I pray you , spare me : faith ,
+I shall unfold equal discourtesy
+To your best kindness . One of your great knowing
+Should learn , being taught , forbearance .
+
+To leave you in your madness , 'twere my sin :
+I will not .
+
+Fools cure not mad folks .
+
+Do you call me fool ?
+
+As I am mad , I do :
+If you'll be patient , I'll no more be mad ;
+That cures us both . I am much sorry , sir ,
+You put me to forget a lady's manners ,
+By being so verbal ; and learn now , for all ,
+That I , which know my heart , do here pronounce
+By the very truth of it , I care not for you ;
+And am so near the lack of charity ,
+To accuse myself ,I hate you ; which I had rather
+You felt than make 't my boast .
+
+You sin against
+Obedience , which you owe your father . For
+The contract you pretend with that base wretch ,
+One bred of alms and foster'd with cold dishes ,
+With scraps o' the court , it is no contract , none ;
+And though it be allow'd in meaner parties
+Yet who than he more mean ?to knit their souls
+On whom there is no more dependancy
+But brats and beggary in self-figur'd knot ;
+Yet you are curb'd from that enlargement by
+The consequence o' the crown , and must not soil
+The precious note of it with a base slave ,
+A hilding for a livery , a squire's cloth ,
+A pantler , not so eminent .
+
+Profane fellow !
+Wert thou the son of Jupiter , and no more
+But what thou art besides , thou wert too base
+To be his groom ; thou wert dignified enough ,
+Even to the point of envy , if 'twere made
+Comparative for your virtues , to be styl'd
+The under-hangman of his kingdom , and hated
+For being preferr'd so well .
+
+The south-fog rot him !
+
+He never can meet more mischance than come
+To be but nam'd of thee . His meanest garment
+That ever hath but clipp'd his body , is dearer
+In my respect than all the hairs above thee ,
+Were they all made such men . How now , Pisanio !
+
+
+'His garment !' Now , the devil
+
+To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently ,
+
+'His garment !'
+
+I am sprighted with a fool ,
+Frighted , and anger'd worse . Go , bid my woman
+Search for a jewel that too casually
+Hath left mine arm ; it was thy master's , 'shrew me
+If I would lose it for a revenue
+Of any king's in Europe . I do think
+I saw 't this morning ; confident I am
+Last night 'twas on mine arm , I kiss'd it ;
+I hope it be not gone to tell my lord
+That I kiss aught but he .
+
+'Twill not be lost .
+
+I hope so ; go , and search .
+
+
+You have abus'd me :
+'His meanest garment !'
+
+Ay , I said so , sir :
+If you will make 't an action , call witness to 't .
+
+I will inform your father .
+
+Your mother too :
+She's my good lady , and will conceive , I hope ,
+But the worst of me . So I leave you , sir ,
+To the worst of discontent .
+
+
+I'll be reveng'd .
+'His meanest garment !' Well .
+
+
+Fear it not , sir ; I would I were so sure
+To win the king as I am bold her honour
+Will remain hers .
+
+What means do you make to him ?
+
+Not any , but abide the change of time ,
+Quake in the present winter's state and wish
+That warmer days would come ; in these sear'd hopes ,
+I barely gratify your love ; they failing ,
+I must die much your debtor .
+
+Your very goodness and your company
+O'erpays all I can do . By this , your king
+Hath heard of great Augustus ; Caius Lucius
+Will do 's commission throughly , and I think
+He'll grant the tribute , send the arrearages ,
+Or look upon our Romans , whose remembrance
+Is yet fresh in their grief .
+
+I do believe
+Statist though I am none , nor like to be
+That this will prove a war ; and you shall hear
+The legions now in Gallia sooner landed
+In our not-fearing Britain , than have tidings
+Of any penny tribute paid . Our countrymen
+Are men more order'd than when Julius C sar
+Smil'd at their lack of skill , but found their courage
+Worthy his frowning at : their discipline ,
+Now winged ,with their courage will make known
+To their approvers they are people such
+That mend upon the world .
+
+See ! Iachimo !
+
+
+The swiftest harts have posted you by land ,
+And winds of all the corners kiss'd your sails ,
+To make your vessel nimble .
+
+Welcome , sir .
+
+I hope the briefness of your answer made
+The speediness of your return .
+
+Your lady
+Is one of the fairest that I have look'd upon .
+
+And therewithal the best ; or let her beauty
+Look through a casement to allure false hearts
+And be false with them .
+
+Here are letters for you .
+
+Their tenour good , I trust .
+
+'Tis very like .
+
+Was Caius Lucius in the Britain court
+When you were there ?
+
+He was expected then ,
+But not approach'd .
+
+All is well yet .
+Sparkles this stone as it was wont ? or is't not
+Too dull for your good wearing ?
+
+If I have lost it ,
+I should have lost the worth of it in gold .
+I'll make a journey twice as far to enjoy
+A second night of such sweet shortness which
+Was mine in Britain ; for the ring is won .
+
+The stone's too hard to come by .
+
+Not a whit ,
+Your lady being so easy .
+
+Make not , sir ,
+Your loss your sport : I hope you know that we
+Must not continue friends .
+
+Good sir , we must ,
+If you keep covenant . Had I not brought
+The knowledge of your mistress home , I grant
+We were to question further , but I now
+Profess myself the winner of her honour ,
+Together with your ring ; and not the wronger
+Of her or you , having proceeded but
+By both your wills .
+
+If you can make 't apparent
+That you have tasted her in bed , my hand
+And ring is yours ; if not , the foul opinion
+You had of her pure honour gains or loses
+Your sword or mine or masterless leaves both
+To who shall find them .
+
+Sir , my circumstances
+Being so near the truth as I will make them ,
+Must first induce you to believe : whose strength
+I will confirm with oath ; which , I doubt not ,
+You'll give me leave to spare , when you shall find
+You need it not .
+
+Proceed .
+
+First , her bedchamber ,
+Where I confess I slept not , but profess
+Had that was well worth watching ,it was hang'd
+With tapestry of silk and silver ; the story
+Proud Cleopatra , when she met her Roman ,
+And Cydnus swell'd above the banks , or for
+The press of boats or pride ; a piece of work
+So bravely done , so rich , that it did strive
+In workmanship and value ; which I wonder'd
+Could be rarely and exactly wrought ,
+Since the true life on 't was
+
+This is true ;
+And this you might have heard of here , by me ,
+Or by some other .
+
+More particulars
+Must justify my knowledge .
+
+So they must ,
+Or do your honour injury .
+
+The chimney
+Is south the chamber , and the chimney-piece
+Chaste Dian bathing ; never saw I figures
+So likely to report themselves ; the cutter
+Was as another nature , dumb ; outwent her ,
+Motion and breath left out .
+
+This is a thing
+Which you might from relation likewise reap ,
+Being , as it is , much spoke of .
+
+The roof o' the chamber
+With golden cherubins is fretted ; her andirons
+I had forgot them were two winking Cupids
+Of silver , each on one foot standing , nicely
+Depending on their brands .
+
+This is her honour !
+Let it be granted you have seen all this ,and praise
+Be given to your remembrance ,the description
+Of what is in her chamber nothing saves
+The wager you have laid .
+
+Then , if you can ,
+Be pale : I beg but leave to air this jewel ; see !
+
+And now 'tis up again ; it must be married
+To that your diamond ; I'll keep them .
+
+Jove !
+Once more let me behold it . Is it that
+Which I left with her ?
+
+Sir ,I thank her ,that :
+She stripp'd it from her arm ; I see her yet ;
+Her pretty action did outsell her gift ,
+And yet enrich'd it too . She gave it me , and said
+She priz'd it once .
+
+May be she pluck'd it off
+To send it me .
+
+She writes so to you , doth she ?
+
+O ! no , no , no , 'tis true . Here , take this too ;
+
+It is a basilisk unto mine eye ,
+Kills me to look on 't . Let there be no honour
+Where there is beauty ; truth where semblance ; love
+Where there's another man ; the vows of women
+Of no more bondage be to where they are made
+Than they are to their virtues , which is nothing .
+O ! above measure false .
+
+Have patience , sir ,
+And take your ring again ; 'tis not yet won :
+It may be probable she lost it ; or
+Who knows if one of her women , being corrupted ,
+Hath stol'n it from her ?
+
+Very true ;
+And so I hope he came by 't . Back my ring .
+Render to me some corporal sign about her ,
+More evident than this ; for this was stol'n .
+
+By Jupiter , I had it from her arm .
+
+Hark you , he swears ; by Jupiter he swears .
+'Tis true ; nay , keep the ring ; 'tis true : I am sure
+She would not lose it ; her attendants are
+All sworn and honourable ; they induc'd to steal it !
+And by a stranger ! No , he hath enjoy'd her ;
+The cognizance of her incontinency
+Is this ; she hath bought the name of whore thus dearly .
+There , take thy hire ; and all the fiends of hell
+Divide themselves between you !
+
+Sir , be patient :
+This is not strong enough to be believ'd
+Of one persuaded well of
+
+Never talk on 't ;
+She hath been colted by him .
+
+If you seek
+For further satisfying , under her breast ,
+Worthy the pressing , lies a mole , right proud
+Of that most delicate lodging : by my life ,
+I kiss'd it , and it gave me present hunger
+To feed again , though full . You do remember
+This stain upon her ?
+
+Ay , and it doth confirm
+Another stain , as big as hell can hold ,
+Were there no more but it .
+
+Will you hear more ?
+
+Spare your arithmetic ; never count the turns ;
+Once , and a million !
+
+I'll be sworn ,
+
+No swearing .
+If you will swear you have not done 't , you lie ;
+And I will kill thee if thou dost deny
+Thou'st made me cuckold .
+
+I'll deny nothing .
+
+O ! that I had her here , to tear her limb-meal .
+I will go there and do 't , i' the court , before
+Her father . I'll do something
+
+
+Quite besides
+The government of patience ! You have won :
+Let's follow him , and pervert the present wrath
+He hath against himself .
+
+With all my heart .
+
+
+Is there no way for men to be , but women
+Must be half-workers ? We are all bastards ; all ,
+And that most venerable man which I
+Did call my father was I know not where
+When I was stamp'd ; some coiner with his tools
+Made me a counterfeit ; yet my mother seem'd
+The Dian of that time ; so doth my wife
+The nonpareil of this . O ! vengeance , vengeance ;
+Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd
+And pray'd me oft forbearance ; did it with
+A pudency so rosy the sweet view on 't
+Might well have warm'd old Saturn ; that I thought her
+As chaste as unsunn'd snow . O ! all the devils !
+This yellow Iachimo , in an hour ,was 't not ?
+Or less at first ?perchance he spoke not , but
+Like a full-acorn'd boar , a German one ,
+Cried 'O !' and mounted ; found no opposition
+But what he look'd for should oppose and she
+Should from encounter guard . Could I find out
+The woman's part in me ! For there's no motion
+That tends to vice in man but I affirm
+It is the woman's part ; be it lying , note it ,
+The woman's ; flattering , hers ; deceiving , hers ;
+Lust and rank thoughts , hers , hers ; revenges , hers ;
+Ambitions , covetings , change of prides , disdain ,
+Nice longing , slanders , mutability ,
+All faults that man may name , nay , that hell knows ,
+Why , hers , in part , or all ; but rather , all ;
+For even to vice
+They are not constant , but are changing still
+One vice but of a minute old for one
+Not half so old as that . I'll write against them ,
+Detest them , curse them . Yet 'tis greater skill
+In a true hate to pray they have their will :
+The very devils cannot plague them better .
+
+Now say what would Augustus C sar with us ?
+
+When Julius C sar whose remembrance yet
+Lives in men's eyes , and will to ears and tongues
+Be theme and hearing ever was in this Britain ,
+And conquer'd it , Cassibelan , thine uncle ,
+Famous in C sar's praises , no whit less
+Than in his feats deserving it ,for him
+And his succession , granted Rome a tribute ,
+Yearly three thousand pounds , which by thee lately
+Is left untender'd .
+
+And , to kill the marvel ,
+Shall be so ever .
+
+There be many C sars
+Ere such another Julius . Britain is
+A world by itself , and we will nothing pay
+For wearing our own noses .
+
+That opportunity ,
+Which then they had to take from 's , to resume ,
+We have again . Remember , sir , my liege ,
+The kings your ancestors , together with
+The natural bravery of your isle , which stands
+As Neptune's park , ribbed and paled in
+With rocks unscaleable and roaring waters ,
+With sands , that will not bear your enemies' boats ,
+But suck them up to the topmast . A kind of conquest
+C sar made here , but made not here his brag
+Of 'came , and saw , and overcame :' with shame
+The first that ever touch'd him he was carried
+From off our coast , twice beaten ; and his shipping
+Poor ignorant baubles !on our terrible seas ,
+Like egg-shells mov'd upon their surges , crack'd
+As easily 'gainst our rocks : for joy whereof
+The fam'd Cassibelan , who was once at point
+O giglot fortune !to master C sar's sword ,
+Made Lud's town with rejoicing-fires bright ,
+And Britons stiut with courage .
+
+Come , there's no more tribute to be paid . Our kingdom is stronger than it was at that time ; and , as I said , there is no moe such C sars ; other of them may have crooked noses , but to owe such straight arms , none .
+
+Son , let your mother end .
+
+We have yet many among us can gripe as hard as Cassibelan ; I do not say I am one , but I have a hand . Why tribute ? why should we pay tribute ? If C sar can hide the sun from us with a blanket , or put the moon in his pocket , we will pay him tribute for light ; else , sir , no more tribute , pray you now .
+
+You must know ,
+Till the injurious Romans did extort
+This tribute from us , we were free ; C sar's ambition
+Which swell'd so much that it did almost stretch
+The sides o' the world against all colour here
+Did put the yoke upon 's ; which to shake off
+Becomes a war-like people , whom we reckon
+Ourselves to be . We do say then to C sar
+Our ancestor was that Mulmutius which
+Ordain'd our laws , whose use the sword of C sar
+Hath too much mangled ; whose repair and franchise
+Shall , by the power we hold , be our good deed ,
+Though Rome be therefore angry . Mulmutius made our laws ,
+Who was the first of Britain which did put
+His brows within a golden crown , and call'd
+Himself a king .
+
+I am sorry , Cymbeline ,
+That I am to pronounce Augustus C sar
+C sar , that hath more kings his servants than
+Thyself domestic officers thine enemy .
+Receive it from me , then : war and confusion
+In C sar's name pronounce I 'gainst thee : look
+For fury not to be resisted . Thus defied ,
+I thank thee for myself .
+
+Thou art welcome , Caius .
+Thy C sar knighted me ; my youth I spent
+Much under him ; of him I gather'd honour ;
+Which he , to seek of me again , perforce ,
+Behoves me keep at utterance . I am perfect
+That the Pannonians and Dalmatians for
+Their liberties are now in arms ; a precedent
+Which not to read would show the Britons cold :
+So C sar shall not find them .
+
+Let proof speak .
+
+His majesty bids you welcome . Make pastime with us a day or two , or longer ; if you seek us afterwards in other terms , you shall find us in our salt-water girdle ; if you beat us out of it , it is yours ; if you fall in the adventure , our crows shall fare the better for you ; and there's an end .
+
+So , sir .
+
+I know your master's pleasure and he mine :
+All the remain is 'Welcome !'
+
+
+How ! of adultery ! Wherefore write you not
+What monster's her accuser ? Leonatus !
+O master ! what a strange infection
+Is fall'n into thy ear ! What false Italian
+As poisonous-tongu'd as handed hath prevail'd
+On thy too ready hearing ? Disloyal ! No :
+She's punish'd for her truth , and undergoes ,
+More goddess-like than wife-like , such assaults
+As would take in some virtue . O my master !
+Thy mind to her is now as low as were
+Thy fortunes . How ! that I should murder her ?
+Upon the love and truth and vows which I
+Have made to thy command ? I , her ? her blood ?
+If it be so to do good service , never
+Let me be counted serviceable . How look I ,
+That I should seem to lack humanity
+So much as this fact comes to ?Do't : the letter
+That I have sent her by her own command
+Shall give thee opportunity :O damn'd paper !
+Black as the ink that's on thee . Senseless bauble ,
+Art thou a feodary for this act , and look'st
+So virgin-like without ? Lo ! here she comes .
+I am ignorant in what I am commanded .
+
+
+How now , Pisanio !
+
+Madam , here is a letter from my lord .
+
+Who ? thy lord ? that is my lord , Leonatus .
+O ! learn'd indeed were that astronomer
+That knew the stars as I his characters ;
+He'd lay the future open . You good gods ,
+Let what is here contain'd relish of love ,
+Of my lord's health , of his content , yet not
+That we two are asunder ; let that grieve him ,
+Some griefs are med'cinable ; that is one of them ,
+For it doth physic love ,of his content ,
+All but in that ! Good wax , thy leave . Bless'd be
+You bees that make these locks of counsel ! Lovers
+And men in dangerous bonds pray not alike ;
+Though forfeiters you cast in prison , yet
+You clasp young Cupid's tables . Good news , gods !
+Justice , and your father's wrath , should he take me in his dominion , could not be so cruel to me , as you , O the dearest of creatures , would not even renew me with your eyes . Take notice that I am in Cambria , at Milford-Haven ; what your own love will out of this advise you , follow . So , he wishes you all happiness , that remains loyal to his vow , and your , increasing in love ,
+O ! for a horse with wings ! Hear'st thou , Pisanio ?
+He is at Milford-Haven ; read , and tell me
+How far 'tis thither . If one of mean affairs
+May plod it in a week , why may not I
+Glide thither in a day ? Then , true Pisanio ,
+Who long'st , like me , to see thy lord ; who long'st ,
+O ! let me 'bate ,but not like me ; yet long'st ,
+But in a fainter kind :O ! not like me ,
+For mine's beyond beyond ; say , and speak thick ;
+Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hearing ,
+To the smothering of the sense ,how far it is
+To this same blessed Milford ; and , by the way ,
+Tell me how Wales was made so happy as
+T' inherit such a haven ; but , first of all ,
+How we may steal from hence , and , for the gap
+That we shall make in time , from our hencegoing
+And our return , to excuse ; but first , how get hence .
+Why should excuse be born or ere begot ?
+We'll talk of that hereafter . Prithee , speak ,
+How many score of miles may we well ride
+'Twixt hour and hour ?
+
+One score 'twixt sun and sun ,
+Madam , 's enough for you , and too much too .
+
+Why , one that rode to 's execution , man ,
+Could never go so slow : I have heard of riding wagers ,
+Where horses have been nimbler than the sands
+That run i' the clock's behalf . But this is foolery ;
+Go bid my woman feign a sickness ; say
+She'll home to her father ; and provide me presently
+A riding-suit , no costlier than would fit
+A franklin's housewife .
+
+Madam , you're best consider .
+
+I see before me , man ; nor here , nor here ,
+Nor what ensues , but have a fog in them ,
+That I cannot look through . Away , I prithee ;
+Do as I bid thee . There's no more to say ;
+Accessible is none but Milford way .
+
+
+A goodly day not to keep house , with such
+Whose roof's as low as ours ! Stoop , boys ; this gate
+Instructs you how to adore the heavens , and bows you
+To a morning's holy office ; the gates of monarchs
+Are arch'd so high that giants may jet through
+And keep their impious turbans on , without
+Good morrow to the sun . Hail , thou fair heaven !
+We house i' the rock , yet use thee not so hardly
+As prouder livers do .
+
+Hail , heaven !
+
+Hail , heaven !
+
+Now for our mountain sport . Up to yond hill ;
+Your legs are young ; I'll tread these flats . Consider ,
+When you above perceive me like a crow ,
+That it is place which lessens and sets off ;
+And you may then revolve what tales I have told you
+Of courts , of princes , of the tricks in war ;
+This service is not service , so being done ,
+But being so allow'd ; to apprehend thus
+Draws us a profit from all things we see ,
+And often , to our comfort , shall we find
+The sharded beetle in a safer hold
+Than is the full wing'd eagle . O ! this life
+Is nobler than attending for a check ,
+Richer than doing nothing for a bribe ,
+Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk ;
+Such gain the cap of him that makes 'em fine ,
+Yet keeps his book uncross'd ; no life to ours .
+
+Out of your proof you speak ; we , poor unfledg'd ,
+Have never wing'd from view o' the nest , nor know not
+What air's from home . Haply this life is best ,
+If quiet life be best ; sweeter to you
+That have a sharper known , well corresponding
+With your stiff age ; but unto us it is
+A cell of ignorance , travelling a-bed ,
+A prison for a debtor , that not dares
+To stride a limit .
+
+What should we speak of
+When we are old as you ? when we shall hear
+The rain and wind beat dark December , how
+In this our pinching cave shall we discourse
+The freezing hours away ? We have seen nothing ;
+We are beastly , subtle as the fox for prey ,
+Like war-like as the wolf for what we eat ;
+Our valour is to chase what flies ; our cage
+We make a quire , as doth the prison'd bird ,
+And sing our bondage freely .
+
+How you speak !
+Did you but know the city's usuries
+And felt them knowingly ; the art o' the court ,
+As hard to leave as keep , whose top to climb
+Is certain falling , or so slippery that
+The fear's as bad as falling ; the toil of the war ,
+A pain that only seems to seek out danger
+I' the name of fame and honour ; which dies i' the search ,
+And hath as oft a slanderous epitaph
+As record of fair act ; nay , many times ,
+Doth ill deserve by doing well ; what's worse ,
+Must curtsy at the censure : O boys ! this story
+The world may read in me ; my body's mark'd
+With Roman swords , and my report was once
+First with the best of note ; Cymbeline lov'd me ,
+And when a soldier was the theme , my name
+Was not far off ; then was I as a tree
+Whose boughs did bend with fruit , but , in one night ,
+A storm or robbery , call it what you will ,
+Shook down my mellow hangings , nay , my leaves ,
+And left me bare to weather .
+
+Uncertain favour !
+
+My fault being nothing ,as I have told you oft ,
+But that two villains , whose false oaths prevail'd
+Before my perfect honour , swore to Cymbeline
+I was confederate with the Romans ; so
+Follow'd my banishment , and this twenty years
+This rock and these demesnes have been my world ,
+Where I have liv'd at honest freedom , paid
+More pious debts to heaven than in all
+The fore-end of my time . But , up to the mountains !
+This is not hunter's language . He that strikes
+The venison first shall be the lord o' the feast ;
+To him the other two shall minister ;
+And we will fear no poison which attends
+In place of greater state . I'll meet you in the valleys .
+
+How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature !
+These boys know little they are sons to the king ;
+Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive .
+They think they are mine ; and , though train'd up thus meanly
+I' the cave wherein they bow , their thoughts do hit
+The roofs of palaces , and nature prompts them
+In simple and low things to prince it much
+Beyond the trick of others . This Polydore ,
+The heir of Cymbeline and Britain , who
+The king his father call'd Guiderius ,Jove !
+When on my three-foot stool I sit and tell
+The war-like feats I have done , his spirits fly out
+Into my story : say , 'Thus mine enemy fell ,
+And thus I set my foot on 's neck ;' even then
+The princely blood flows in his cheek , he sweats ,
+Strains his young nerves , and puts himself in posture
+That acts my words . The younger brother , Cadwal ,
+Once Arviragus ,in as like a figure ,
+Strikes life into my speech and shows much more
+His own conceiving . Hark ! the game is rous'd .
+O Cymbeline ! heaven and my conscience knows
+Thou didst unjustly banish me ; whereon ,
+At three and two years old , I stole these babes ,
+Thinking to bar thee of succession , as
+Thou reft'st me of my lands . Euriphile ,
+Thou wast their nurse ; they took thee for their mother ,
+And every day do honour to her grave :
+Myself , Belarius , that am Morgan call'd ,
+They take for natural father . The game is up .
+
+
+Thou told'st me , when we came from horse , the place
+Was near at hand : ne'er long'd my mother so
+To see me first , as I have now . Pisanio ! man !
+Where is Posthumus ? What is in thy mind ,
+That makes thee stare thus ? Wherefore breaks that sigh
+From the inward of thee ? One , but painted thus ,
+Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd
+Beyond self-explication ; put thyself
+Into a haviour of less fear , ere wildness
+Vanquish my staider senses . What's the matter ?
+Why tender'st thou that paper to me with
+A look untender ? If 't be summer news ,
+Smile to 't before ; if winterly , thou need'st
+But keep that count'nance still . My husband's hand !
+That drug-damn'd Italy hath out-craftied him ,
+And he's at some hard point . Speak , man ; thy tongue
+May take off some extremity , which to read
+Would be even mortal to me .
+
+Please you , read ;
+And you shall find me , wretched man , a thing
+The most disdain'd of fortune .
+
+Thy mistress , Pisanio , hath played the strumpet in my bed ; the testimonies whereof lie bleeding in me . I speak not out of weak surmises , but from proof as strong as my grief and as certain as I expect my revenge . That part thou , Pisanio , must act for me , if thy faith be not tainted with the breach of hers . Let thine own hands take away her life ; I shall give thee opportunity at Milford-Haven ; she hath my letter for the purpose ; where , if thou fear to strike , and to make me certain it is done , thou art the pandar to her dishonour and equally to me disloyal .
+
+What shall I need to draw my sword ? the paper
+Hath cut her throat already . No , 'tis slander ,
+Whose edge is sharper than the sword , whose tongue
+Outvenoms all the worms of Nile , whose breath
+Rides on the posting winds and doth belie
+All corners of the world ; kings , queens , and states ,
+Maids , matrons , nay , the secrets of the grave
+This viperous slander enters . What cheer , madam ?
+
+False to his bed ! What is it to be false ?
+To lie in watch there and to think on him ?
+To weep 'twixt clock and clock ? if sleep charge nature ,
+To break it with a fearful dream of him ,
+And cry myself awake ? that's false to 's bed , is it ?
+
+Alas ! good lady .
+
+I false ! Thy conscience witness ! Iachimo ,
+Thou didst accuse him of incontinency ;
+Thou then look'dst like a villain ; now methinks
+Thy favour's good enough . Some jay of Italy ,
+Whose mother was her painting , hath betray'd him :
+Poor I am stale , a garment out of fashion ,
+And , for I am richer than to hang by the walls ,
+I must be ripp'd ; to pieces with me ! O !
+Men's vows are women's traitors ! All good seeming ,
+By thy revolt , O husband ! shall be thought
+Put on for villany ; not born where 't grows ,
+But worn a bait for ladies .
+
+Good madam , hear me .
+
+True honest men being heard , like false neas ,
+Were in his time thought false , and Sinon's weeping
+Did scandal many a holy tear , took pity
+From most true wretchedness ; so thou , Posthumus ,
+Wilt lay the leaven on all proper men ;
+Goodly and gallant shall be false and perjur'd
+From thy great fail . Come , fellow , be thou honest ;
+Do thou thy master's bidding . When thou seest him ,
+A little witness my obedience ; look !
+I draw the sword myself ; take it , and hit
+The innocent mansion of my love , my heart .
+Fear not , 'tis empty of all things but grief ;
+Thy master is not there , who was indeed
+The riches of it : do his bidding ; strike .
+Thou mayst be valiant in a better cause ,
+But now thou seem'st a coward .
+
+Hence , vile instrument !
+Thou shalt not damn my hand .
+
+Why , I must die ;
+And if I do not by thy hand , thou art
+No servant of thy master's . Against self-slaughter
+There is a prohibition so divine
+That cravens my weak hand . Come , here's my heart .
+Something's afore 't ; soft , soft ! we'll no defence ;
+Obedient as the scabbard . What is here ?
+The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus
+All turn'd to heresy ! Away , away !
+Corrupters of my faith ; you shall no more
+Be stomachers to my heart . Thus may poor fools
+Believe false teachers ; though those that are betray'd
+Do feel the treason sharply , yet the traitor
+Stands in worse case of woe .
+And thou , Posthumus , thou that didst set up
+My disobedience 'gainst the king my father ,
+And make me put into contempt the suits
+Of princely fellows , shalt hereafter find
+It is no act of common passage , but
+A strain of rareness ; and I grieve myself
+To think , when thou shalt be disedg'd by her
+That now thou tir'st on , how thy memory
+Will then be pang'd by me . Prithee , dispatch ;
+The lamb entreats the butcher ; where's thy knife ?
+Thou art too slow to do thy master's bidding ,
+When I desire it too .
+
+O , gracious lady !
+Since I receiv'd command to do this business
+I have not slept one wink .
+
+Do 't , and to bed then .
+
+I'll wake mine eyeballs blind first .
+
+Wherefore then
+Didst undertake it ? Why hast thou abus'd
+So many miles with a pretence ? this place ?
+Mine action and thine own ? our horses' labour ?
+The time inviting thee ? the perturb'd court ,
+For my being absent ?whereunto I never
+Purpose return .Why hast thou gone so far ,
+To be unbent when thou hast ta'en thy stand ,
+The elected deer before thee ?
+
+But to win time
+To lose so bad employment , in the which
+I have consider'd of a course . Good lady ,
+Hear me with patience .
+
+Talk thy tongue weary ; speak :
+I have heard I am a strumpet , and mine ear ,
+Therein false struck , can take no greater wound ,
+Nor tent to bottom that . But speak .
+
+Then , madam ,
+I thought you would not back again .
+
+Most like ,
+Bringing me here to kill me .
+
+Not so , neither ;
+But if I were as wise as honest , then
+My purpose would prove well . It cannot be
+But that my master is abus'd ; some villain ,
+Some villain , ay , and singular in his art ,
+Hath done you both this cursed injury .
+
+Some Roman courtezan .
+
+No , on my life .
+I'll give but notice you are dead and send him
+Some bloody sign of it ; for 'tis commanded
+I should do so : you shall be miss'd at court ,
+And that will well confirm it .
+
+Why , good fellow ,
+What shall I do the while ? where bide ? how live ?
+Or in my life what comfort , when I am
+Dead to my husband ?
+
+If you'll back to the court ,
+
+No court , no father ; nor no more ado
+With that harsh , noble , simple nothing Cloten !
+That Cloten , whose love-suit hath been to me
+As fearful as a siege .
+
+If not at court ,
+Then not in Britain must you bide .
+
+Where then ?
+Hath Britain all the sun that shines ? Day , night ,
+Are they not but in Britain ? I' the world's volume
+Our Britain seems as of it , but not in 't ;
+In a great pool a swan's nest : prithee , think
+There's livers out of Britain .
+
+I am most glad
+You think of other place . The ambassador ,
+Lucius the Roman , comes to Milford-Haven
+To-morrow ; now , if you could wear a mind
+Dark as your fortune is , and but disguise
+That which , t' appear itself , must not yet be
+But by self-danger , you should tread a course
+Pretty , and full of view ; yea , haply , near
+The residence of Posthumus ; so nigh at least
+That though his actions were not visible , yet
+Report should render him hourly to your ear
+As truly as he moves .
+
+O ! for such means :
+Though peril to my modesty , not death on 't ,
+I would adventure .
+
+Well , then , here's the point :
+You must forget to be a woman ; change
+Command into obedience ; fear and niceness
+The handmaids of all women , or more truly
+Woman it pretty self into a waggish courage ;
+Ready in gibes , quick-answer'd , saucy , and
+As quarrelous as the weasel ; nay , you must
+Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek ,
+Exposing it but , O ! the harder heart ,
+Alack ! no remedy to the greedy touch
+Of common-kissing Titan , and forget
+Your laboursome and dainty trims , wherein
+You made great Juno angry .
+
+Nay , be brief :
+I see into thy end , and am almost
+A man already .
+
+First , make yourself but like one .
+Forethinking this , I have already fit
+'Tis in my cloak-bag doublet , hat , hose , all
+That answer to them ; would you in their serving ,
+And with what imitation you can borrow
+From youth of such a season , 'fore noble Lucius
+Present yourself , desire his service , tell him
+Wherein you are happy ,which you'll make him know ,
+If that his head have ear in music ,doubtless
+With joy he will embrace you , for he's honourable ,
+And , doubling that , most holy . Your means abroad ,
+You have me , rich ; and I will never fail
+Beginning nor supplyment .
+
+Thou art all the comfort
+The gods will diet me with . Prithee , away ;
+There's more to be consider'd , but we'll even
+All that good time will give us ; this attempt
+I'm soldier to , and will abide it with
+A prince's courage . Away , I prithee .
+
+Well , madam , we must take a short farewell ,
+Lest , being miss'd , I be suspected of
+Your carriage from the court . My noble mistress ,
+Here is a box , I had it from the queen ,
+What's in 't is precious ; if you are sick at sea ,
+Or stomach-qualm'd at land , a dram of this
+Will drive away distemper . To some shade ,
+And fit you to your manhood . May the gods
+Direct you to the best !
+
+Amen . I thank thee
+
+
+Thus far ; and so farewell .
+
+Thanks , royal sir .
+My emperor hath wrote , I must from hence ;
+And am right sorry that I must report ye
+My master's enemy .
+
+Our subjects , sir ,
+Will not endure his yoke ; and for ourself
+To show less sovereignty than they , must needs
+Appear unking-like .
+
+So , sir : I desire of you
+A conduct over land to Milford-Haven .
+Madam , all joy befall your Grace .
+
+And you !
+
+My lords , you are appointed for that office ;
+The due of honour in no point omit .
+So , farewell , noble Lucius .
+
+Your hand , my lord .
+
+Receive it friendly ; but from this time forth
+I wear it as your enemy .
+
+Sir , the event
+Is yet to name the winner . Fare you well .
+
+Leave not the worthy Lucius , good my lords ,
+Till he have cross'd the Severn . Happiness !
+
+
+He goes hence frowning ; but it honours us
+That we have given him cause .
+
+'Tis all the better ;
+Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it .
+
+Lucius hath wrote already to the emperor
+How it goes here . It fits us therefore ripely
+Our chariots and horsemen be in readiness ;
+The powers that he already hath in Gallia
+Will soon be drawn to head , from whence he moves
+His war for Britain .
+
+'Tis not sleepy business ;
+But must be look'd to speedily and strongly .
+
+Our expectation that it would be thus
+Hath made us forward . But , my gentle queen ,
+Where is our daughter ? She hath not appear'd
+Before the Roman , nor to us hath tender'd
+The duty of the day ; she looks us like
+A thing more made of malice than of duty :
+We have noted it . Call her before us , for
+We have been too slight in sufferance .
+
+
+Royal sir .
+Since the exile of Posthumus , most retir'd
+Hath her life been ; the cure whereof , my lord ,
+'Tis time must do . Beseech your majesty ,
+Forbear sharp speeches to her ; she's a lady
+So tender of rebukes that words are strokes ,
+And strokes death to her .
+
+
+Where is she , sir ? How
+Can her contempt be answer'd ?
+
+Please you , sir ,
+Her chambers are all lock'd , and there's no answer
+That will be given to the loudest noise we make .
+
+My lord , when last I went to visit her ,
+She pray'd me to excuse her keeping close ,
+Whereto constrain'd by her infirmity ,
+She should that duty leave unpaid to you ,
+Which daily she was bound to proffer ; this
+She wish'd me to make known , but our great court
+Made me to blame in memory .
+
+Her doors lock'd !
+Not seen of late ! Grant , heavens , that which I fear
+Prove false !
+
+
+Son , I say , follow the king .
+
+That man of hers , Pisanio , her old servant ,
+I have not seen these two days .
+
+Go , look after .
+
+Pisanio , thou that stand'st so for Posthumus !
+He hath a drug of mine ; I pray his absence
+Proceed by swallowing that , for he believes
+It is a thing most precious . But for her ,
+Where is she gone ? Haply , despair hath sciz'd her ,
+Or , wing'd with fervour of her love , she's flown
+To her desir'd Posthumus . Gone she is
+To death or to dishonour , and my end
+Can make good use of either ; she being down ,
+I have the placing of the British crown .
+
+How now , my son !
+
+'Tis certain she is fled .
+Go in and cheer the king ; he rages , none
+Dare come about him .
+
+All the better ; may
+This night forestall him of the coming day !
+
+
+I love and hate her ; for she's fair and royal ,
+And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite
+Than lady , ladies , woman ; from every one
+The best she hath , and she , of all compounded ,
+Outsells them all . I love her therefore ; but
+Disdaining me and throwing favours on
+The low Posthumus slanders so her judgment
+That what's else rare is chok'd , and in that point
+I will conclude to hate her , nay , indeed ,
+To be reveng'd upon her . For , when fools
+Shall
+
+
+Who is here ? What ! are you packing , sirrah ?
+Come hither . Ah ! you precious pandar . Villain ,
+Where is thy lady ? In a word ; or else
+
+Thou art straightway with the fiends .
+
+O ! good my lord .
+
+Where is thy lady ? or , by Jupiter
+I will not ask again . Close villain ,
+I'll have this secret from thy heart , or rip
+Thy heart to find it . Is she with Posthumus ?
+From whose so many weights of baseness cannot
+A dram of worth be drawn .
+
+Alas ! my lord ,
+How can she be with him ? When was she miss'd ?
+He is in Rome .
+
+Where is she , sir ? Come nearer ,
+No further halting ; satisfy me home
+What is become of her ?
+
+O ! my all-worthy lord .
+
+All-worthy villain !
+Discover where thy mistress is at once .
+At the next word ; no more of 'worthy lord !'
+Speak , or thy silence on the instant is
+Thy condemnation and thy death .
+
+Then , sir ,
+This paper is the history of my knowledge
+Touching her flight .
+
+
+Let's see 't . I will pursue her
+Even to Augustus' throne .
+
+Or this , or perish .
+She's far enough ; and what he learns by this
+May prove his travel , not her danger .
+
+Hum !
+
+I'll write to my lord she's dead . O Imogen !
+Safe mayst thou wander , safe return agen !
+
+Sirrah , is this letter true ?
+
+Sir , as I think .
+
+It is Posthumus' hand ; I know 't . Sirrah , if thou wouldst not be a villain , but do me true service , undergo those employments wherein I should have cause to use thee with a serious industry , that is , what villany soe'er I bid thee do , to perform it directly and truly , I would think thee an honest man ; thou shouldst neither want my means for thy relief nor my voice for thy preferment .
+
+Well , my good lord .
+
+Wilt thou serve me ? For since patiently and constantly thou hast stuck to the bare fortune of that beggar Posthumus , thou canst not , in the course of gratitude , but be a diligent follower of mine . Wilt thou serve me ?
+
+Sir , I will .
+
+Give me thy hand ; here's my purse . Hast any of thy late master's garments in thy possession ?
+
+I have , my lord , at my lodging , the same suit he wore when he took leave of my lady and mistress .
+
+The first service thou dost me , fetch that suit hither : let it be thy first service ; go .
+
+I shall , my lord .
+
+
+Meet thee at Milford-Haven !I forgot to ask him one thing ; I'll remember 't anon ,even there , thou villain Posthumus , will I kill thee . I would these garments were come . She said upon a time ,the bitterness of it I now belch from my heart ,that she held the very garment of Posthumus in more respect than my noble and natural person , together with the adornment of my qualities . With that suit upon my back will I ravish her : first kill him , and in her eyes ; there shall she see my valour , which will then be a torment to her contempt . He on the ground , my speech of insultment ended on his dead body , and when my lust hath dined ,which , as I say , to vex her , I will execute in the clothes that she so praised ,to the court I'll knock her back , foot her home again . She hath despised me rejoicingly , and I'll be merry in my revenge .
+
+Be those the garments ?
+
+Ay , my noble lord .
+
+How long is 't since she went to Milford-Haven ?
+
+She can scarce be there yet .
+
+Bring this apparel to my chamber ; that is the second thing that I have commanded thee : the third is , that thou wilt be a voluntary mute to my design . Be but duteous , and true preferment shall tender itself to thee . My revenge is now at Milford ; would I had wings to follow it !
+Come , and be true .
+
+
+Thou bidd'st me to my loss ; for true to thee
+Were to prove false , which I will never be ,
+To him that is most true . To Milford go ,
+And find not her whom thou pursu'st . Flow , flow ,
+You heavenly blessings , on her ! This fool's speed
+Be cross'd with slowness ; labour be his meed !
+
+
+I see a man's life is a tedious one ;
+I have tir'd myself , and for two nights together
+Have made the ground my bed ; I should be sick
+But that my resolution helps me . Milford ,
+When from the mountain-top Pisanio show'd thee ,
+Thou wast within a ken . O Jove ! I think
+Foundations fly the wretched ; such , I mean ,
+Where they should be reliev'd . Two beggars told me
+I could not miss my way ; will poor folks lie ,
+That have afflictions on them , knowing 'tis
+A punishment or trial ? Yes ; no wonder ,
+When rich ones scarce tell true . To lapse in fulness
+Is sorer than to lie for need , and falsehood
+Is worse in kings than beggars . My dear lord !
+Thou art one o' the false ones . Now I think on thee ,
+My hunger's gone , but even before I was
+At point to sink for food . But what is this ?
+Here is a path to 't ; 'tis some savage hold ;
+I were best not call , I dare not call , yet famine ,
+Ere clean it o'erthrow nature , makes it valiant .
+Plenty and peace breeds cowards , hardness ever
+Of hardiness is mother . Ho ! Who's here ?
+If any thing that's civil , speak ; if savage ,
+Take or lend . Ho ! No answer ? Then I'll enter .
+Best draw my sword ; and if mine enemy
+But fear the sword like me , he'll scarcely look on 't .
+Such a foe , good heavens !
+
+You , Polydore , have prov'd best woodman , and
+Are master of the feast ; Cadwal and I
+Will play the cook and servant , 'tis our match ;
+The sweat of industry would dry and die
+But for the end it works to . Come ; our stomachs
+Will make what's homely savoury ; weariness
+Can snore upon the flint when resty sloth
+Finds the down pillow hard . Now , peace be here ,
+Poor house , that keep'st thyself !
+
+I am throughly weary .
+
+I am weak with toil , yet strong in appetite .
+
+There is cold meat i' the cave ; we'll browse on that ,
+Whilst what we have kill'd be cook'd .
+
+Stay ; come not in ;
+But that it eats our victuals , I should think
+Here were a fairy .
+
+What's the matter , sir ?
+
+By Jupiter , an angel ! or , if not ,
+An earthly paragon ! Behold divineness
+No elder than a boy !
+
+
+Good masters , harm me not :
+Before I enter'd here , I call'd ; and thought
+To have begg'd or bought what I have took . Good troth ,
+I have stol'n nought , nor would not , though I had found
+Gold strew'd i' the floor . Here's money for my meat ;
+I would have left it on the board so soon
+As I had made my meal , and parted
+With prayers for the provider .
+
+Money , youth ?
+
+All gold and silver rather turn to dirt !
+As 'tis no better reckon'd but of those
+Who worship dirty gods .
+
+I see you're angry .
+Know , if you kill me for my fault , I should
+Have died had I not made it .
+
+Whither bound ?
+
+To Milford-Haven .
+
+What's your name ?
+
+Fidele , sir . I have a kinsman who
+Is bound for Italy ; he embark'd at Milford :
+To whom being going , almost spent with hunger ,
+I am fall'n in this offence .
+
+Prithee , fair youth ,
+Think us no churis , nor measure our good minds
+By this rude place we live in . Well encounter'd !
+'Tis almost night ; you shall have better cheer
+Ere you depart , and thanks to stay and eat it .
+Boys , bid him welcome .
+
+Were you a woman , youth ,
+I should woo hard but be your groom . In honesty ,
+I bid for you , as I do buy .
+
+I'll make 't my comfort
+He is a man ; I'll love him as my brother ;
+And such a welcome as I'd give to him
+After a long absence , such is yours : most welcome !
+Be sprightly , for you fall 'mongst friends .
+
+'Mongst friends ,
+If brothers .
+
+Would it had been so , that they
+Had been my father's sons ; then had my prize
+Been less , and so more equal ballasting
+To thee , Posthumus .
+
+He wrings at some distress .
+
+Would I could free 't !
+
+Or I , whate'er it be ,
+What pain it cost , what danger . Gods !
+
+Hark , boys
+
+
+Great men ,
+That had a court no bigger than this cave ,
+That did attend themselves and had the virtue
+Which their own conscience seal'd them ,laying by
+That nothing-gift of differing multitudes ,
+Could not out-peer these twain . Pardon me , gods !
+I'd change my sex to be companion with them ,
+Since Leonatus' false .
+
+It shall be so .
+Boys , we'll go dress our hunt . Fair youth , come in :
+Discourse is heavy , fasting ; when we have supp'd ,
+We'll mannerly demand thee of thy story ,
+So far as thou wilt speak it .
+
+Pray , draw near .
+
+The night to the owl and morn to the lark less welcome .
+
+Thanks , sir .
+
+I pray , draw near .
+
+
+This is the tenour of the emperor's writ :
+That since the common men are now in action
+'Gainst the Pannonians and Dalmatians ,
+And that the legions now in Gallia are
+Full weak to undertake our wars against
+The fall'n-off Britons , that we do incite
+The gentry to this business . He creates
+Lucius pro-consul ; and to you the tribunes ,
+For this immediate levy , he commends
+His absolute commission . Long live C sar !
+
+Is Lucius general of the forces ?
+
+Ay .
+
+Remaining now in Gallia ?
+
+With those legions
+Which I have spoke of , whereunto your levy
+Must be supplyant ; the words of your commission
+Will tie you to the numbers and the time
+Of their dispatch .
+
+We will discharge our duty .
+
+I am near to the place where they should meet , if Pisanio have mapped it truly . How fit his garments serve me ! Why should his mistress , who was made by him that made the tailor , not be fit too ? the rather ,saving reverence of the word ,for 'tis said a woman's fitness comes by fits . Therein I must play the workman . I dare speak it to myself ,for it is not vain-glory , for a man and his glass to confer in his own chamber ,I mean , the lines of my body are as well drawn as his ; no less young , more strong , not beneath him in fortunes , beyond him in the advantage of the time , above him in birth , alike conversant in general services , and more remarkable in single oppositions ; yet this imperceiverant thing loves him in my despite . What mortality is ! Posthumus , thy head , which now is growing upon thy shoulders , shall within this hour be off , thy mistress enforced , thy garments cut to pieces before thy face ; and all this done , spurn her home to her father , who may haply be a little angry for my so rough usage , but my mother , having power of his testiness , shall turn all into my commendations . My horse is tied up safe ; out , sword , and to a sore purpose ! Fortune , put them into my hand ! This is the very description of their meeting-place ; and the fellow dares not deceive me .
+
+
+You are not well ; remain here in the cave ;
+We'll come to you after hunting .
+
+Brother , stay here ;
+Are we not brothers ?
+
+So man and man should be ,
+But clay and clay differs in dignity ,
+Whose dust is both alike . I am very sick .
+
+Go you to hunting ; I'll abide with him .
+
+So sick I am not , yet I am not well ;
+But not so citizen a wanton as
+To seem to die ere sick . So please you , leave me ;
+Stick to your journal course ; the breach of custom
+Is breach of all . I am ill ; but your being by me
+Cannot amend me ; society is no comfort
+To one not sociable . I am not very sick ,
+Since I can reason of it ; pray you , trust me here ,
+I'll rob none but myself , and let me die ,
+Stealing so poorly .
+
+I love thee ; I have spoke it ;
+How much the quantity , the weight as much ,
+As I do love my father .
+
+What ! how ! how !
+
+If it be sin to say so , sir , I yoke me
+In my good brother's fault : I know not why
+I love this youth ; and I have heard you say ,
+Love's reason's without reason : the bier at door ,
+And a demand who is 't shall die , I'd say
+'My father , not this youth .'
+
+O noble strain !
+O worthiness of nature ! breed of greatness !
+Cowards father cowards , and base things sire base :
+Nature hath meal and bran , contempt and grace .
+I'm not their father ; yet who this should be ,
+Doth miracle itself , lov'd before me .
+'Tis the ninth hour o' the morn .
+
+Brother , farewell .
+
+I wish ye sport .
+
+You health . So please you , sir .
+
+These are kind creatures . Gods , what lies I have heard !
+Our courtiers say all's savage but at court :
+Experience , O ! thou disprov'st report .
+The imperious seas breed monsters , for the dish
+Poor tributary rivers as sweet fish .
+I am sick still , heart-sick . Pisanio ,
+I'll now taste of thy drug .
+
+
+I could not stir him ;
+He said he was gentle , but unfortunate ;
+Dishonestly afflicted , but yet honest .
+
+Thus did he answer me ; yet said hereafter
+I might know more .
+
+To the field , to the field !
+
+
+We'll leave you for this time ; go in and rest .
+
+We'll not be long away .
+
+Pray , be not sick ,
+For you must be our housewife .
+
+Well or ill ,
+I am bound to you .
+
+And shalt be ever .
+
+This youth , howe'er distress'd , appears he hath had
+Good ancestors .
+
+How angel-like he sings !
+
+But his neat cookery ! he cut our roots
+In characters ,
+And sauc'd our broths as Juno had been sick
+And he her dieter .
+
+Nobly he yokes
+A smiling with a sigh , as if the sigh
+Was that it was , for not being such a smile ;
+The smile mocking the sigh , that it would fly
+From so divine a temple , to commix
+With winds that sailors rail at .
+
+I do note
+That grief and patience rooted in him , both
+Mingle their spurs together .
+
+Grow , patience !
+And let the stinking-elder , grief , untwine
+His perishing root with the increasing vine !
+
+It is great morning . Come , away !Who's there ?
+
+
+I cannot find those runagates ; that villain
+Hath mock'd me . I am faint .
+
+'Those runagates !'
+Means he not us ? I partly know him ; 'tis
+Cloten , the son o' the queen . I fear some ambush .
+I saw him not these many years , and yet
+I know 'tis he . We are held as outlaws : hence !
+
+He is but one . You and my brother search
+What companies are near ; pray you , away ;
+Let me alone with him .
+
+
+Soft ! What are you
+That fly me thus ? some villain mountainers ?
+I have heard of such . What slave art thou ?
+
+A thing
+More slavish did I ne'er than answering
+A 'slave' without a knock .
+
+Thou art a robber ,
+A law-breaker , a villain . Yield thee , thief .
+
+To who ? to thee ? What art thou ? Have not I
+An arm as big as thine ? a heart as big ?
+Thy words , I grant , are bigger , for I wear not
+My dagger in my mouth . Say what thou art ,
+Why I should yield to thee ?
+
+Thou villain base ,
+Know'st me not by my clothes ?
+
+No , nor thy tailor , rascal ,
+Who is thy grandfather : he made those clothes ,
+Which , as it seems , make thee .
+
+Thou precious varlet ,
+My tailor made them not .
+
+Hence then , and thank
+The man that gave them thee . Thou art some fool ;
+I am loath to beat thee .
+
+Thou injurious thief ,
+Hear but my name , and tremble .
+
+What's thy name ?
+
+Cloten , thou villain .
+
+Cloten , thou double villain , be thy name ,
+I cannot tremble at it ; were it Toad , or Adder , Spider ,
+'Twould move me sooner .
+
+To thy further fear ,
+Nay , to thy mere confusion , thou shalt know
+I am son to the queen .
+
+I'm sorry for 't , not seeming
+So worthy as thy birth .
+
+Art not afeard ?
+
+Those that I reverence those I fear , the wise ;
+At fools I laugh , not fear them .
+
+Die the death :
+When I have slain thee with my proper hand ,
+I'll follow those that even now fled hence ,
+And on the gates of Lud's town set your heads :
+Yield , rustic mountaineer .
+
+No companies abroad .
+
+None in the world . You did mistake him , sure .
+
+I cannot tell ; long is it since I saw him ,
+But time hath nothing blurr'd those lines of favour
+Which then he wore ; the snatches in his voice ,
+And burst of speaking , were as his . I am absolute
+'Twas very Cloten .
+
+In this place we left them :
+I wish my brother make good time with him ,
+You say he is so fell .
+
+Being scarce made up ,
+I mean , to man , he had not apprehension
+Of roaring terrors ; for defect of judgment
+Is oft the cease of fear . But see , thy brother .
+
+
+This Cloten was a fool , an empty purse ,
+There was no money in 't . Not Hercules
+Could have knock'd out his brains , for he had none ;
+Yet I not doing this , the fool had borne
+My head as I do his .
+
+What hast thou done ?
+
+I am perfect what : cut off one Cloten's head ,
+Son to the queen , after his own report ;
+Who call'd me traitor , mountaineer , and swore ,
+With his own single hand he'd take us in ,
+Displace our heads where thank the gods !they grow ,
+And set them on Lud's town .
+
+We are all undone .
+
+Why , worthy father , what have we to lose ,
+But that he swore to take , our lives ? The law
+Protects not us ; then why should we be tender
+To let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us ,
+Play judge and executioner all himself ,
+For we do fear the law ? What company
+Discover you abroad ?
+
+No single soul
+Can we set eye on ; but in all safe reason
+He must have some attendants . Though his humour
+Was nothing but mutation , ay , and that
+From one bad thing to worse ; not frenzy , not
+Absolute madness could so far have rav'd
+To bring him here alone . Although , perhaps ,
+It may be heard at court that such as we
+Cave here , hunt here , are outlaws , and in time
+May make some stronger head ; the which he hearing ,
+As it is like him ,might break out , and swear
+He'd fetch us in ; yet is 't not probable
+To come alone , either he so undertaking ,
+Or they so suffering ; then , on good ground we fear ,
+If we do fear this body hath a tail
+More perilous than the head .
+
+Let ordinance
+Come as the gods foresay it ; howsoe'er ,
+My brother hath done well .
+
+I had no mind
+To hunt this day ; the boy Fidele's sickness
+Did make my way long forth .
+
+With his own sword ,
+Which he did wave against my throat , I have ta'en
+His head from him ; I'll throw 't into the creek
+Behind our rock , and let it to the sea ,
+And tell the fishes he's the queen's son , Cloten :
+That's all I reck .
+
+
+I fear 'twill be reveng'd .
+Would , Polydore , thou hadst not done 't ! though valour
+Becomes thee well enough .
+
+Would I had done 't
+So the revenge alone pursu'd me ! Polydore ,
+I love thee brotherly , but envy much
+Thou hast robb'd me of this deed ; I would revenges ,
+That possible strength might meet , would seek us through
+And put us to our answer .
+
+Well , 'tis done .
+We'll hunt no more to-day , nor seek for danger
+Where there's no profit . I prithee , to our rock ;
+You and Fidele play the cooks ; I'll stay
+Till hasty Polydore return , and bring him
+To dinner presently .
+
+Poor sick Fidele !
+I'll willingly to him ; to gain his colour
+I'd let a parish of such Clotens blood ,
+And praise myself for charity .
+
+
+O thou goddess !
+Thou divine Nature , how thyself thou blazon'st
+In these two princely boys . They are as gentle
+As zephyrs , blowing below the violet ,
+Not wagging his sweet head ; and yet as rough ,
+Their royal blood enchaf'd , as the rud'st wind ,
+That by the top doth take the mountain pine ,
+And make him stoop to the vale . 'Tis wonder
+That an invisible instinct should frame them
+To royalty unlearn'd , honour untaught ,
+Civility not seen from other , valour
+That wildly grows in them , but yields a crop
+As if it had been sow'd ! Yet still it's strange
+What Cloten's being here to us portends ,
+Or what his death will bring us .
+
+
+Where's my brother ?
+I have sent Cloten's clotpoll down the stream ,
+In embassy to his mother ; his body's hostage
+For his return .
+
+
+My ingenious instrument !
+Hark ! Polydore , it sounds ; but what occasion
+Hath Cadwal now to give it motion ? Hark !
+
+Is he at home ?
+
+He went hence even now .
+
+What does he mean ? since death of my dear'st mother
+It did not speak before . All solemn things
+Should answer solemn accidents . The matter ?
+Triumphs for nothing and lamenting toys
+Is jollity for apes and grief for boys .
+Is Cadwal mad ?
+
+
+Look ! here he comes ,
+And brings the dire occasion in his arms
+Of what we blame him for .
+
+The bird is dead
+That we have made so much on . I had rather
+Have skipp'd from sixteen years of age to sixty ,
+To have turn'd my leaping-time into a crutch ,
+Than have seen this .
+
+O , sweetest , fairest lily !
+My brother wears thee not the one half so well
+As when thou grew'st thyself .
+
+O melancholy !
+Who ever yet could sound thy bottom ? find
+The ooze , to show what coast thy sluggish crare
+Might easiliest harbour in ? Thou blessed thing !
+Jove knows what man thou mightst have made ; but I ,
+Thou diedst , a most rare boy , of melancholy .
+How found you him ?
+
+Stark , as you see :
+Thus smiling , as some fly had tickled slumber ,
+Not as death's dart , being laugh'd at ; his right cheek
+Reposing on a cushion .
+
+Where ?
+
+O' the floor ,
+His arms thus leagu'd ; I thought he slept , and put
+My clouted brogues from off my feet , whose rudeness
+Answer'd my steps too loud .
+
+Why , he but sleeps :
+If he be gone , he'll make his grave a bed ;
+With female fairies will his tomb be haunted ,
+And worms will not come to thee .
+
+With fairest flowers
+While summer lasts and I live here , Fidele ,
+I'll sweeten thy sad grave ; thou shalt not lack
+The flower that's like thy face , pale primrose , nor
+The azur'd hare-bell , like thy veins , no , nor
+The leaf of eglantine , whom not to slander ,
+Out-sweeten'd not thy breath : the ruddock would ,
+With charitable bill ,O bill ! sore-shaming
+Those rich-left heirs , that let their fathers lie
+Without a monument ,bring thee all this ;
+Yea , and furr'd moss besides , when flowers are none ,
+To winter-ground thy corse .
+
+Prithee , have done ,
+And do not play in wench-like words with that
+Which is so serious . Let us bury him ,
+And not protract with admiration what
+Is now due debt . To the grave !
+
+Say , where shall 's lay him ?
+
+By good Euriphile , our mother .
+
+Be 't so :
+And let us , Polydore , though now our voices
+Have got the mannish crack , sing him to the ground ,
+As once our mother ; use like note and words ,
+Save that Euriphile must be Fidele .
+
+Cadwal ,
+I cannot sing ; I'll weep , and word it with thee ;
+For notes of sorrow out of tune are worse
+Than priests and fanes that lie .
+
+We'll speak it then .
+
+Great griefs , I see , medicine the less , for Cloten
+Is quite forgot . He was a queen's son , boys ,
+And though he came our enemy , remember
+He was paid for that ; though mean and mighty rotting
+Together , have one dust , yet reverence
+That angel of the world doth make distinction
+Of place 'tween high and low . Our foe was princely ,
+And though you took his life , as being our foe ,
+Yet bury him as a prince .
+
+Pray you , fetch him hither .
+Thersites' body is as good as Ajax'
+When neither are alive .
+
+If you'll go fetch him ,
+We'll say our song the whilst . Brother , begin .
+
+
+Nay , Cadwal , we must lay his head to the east ;
+My father hath a reason for 't .
+
+'Tis true .
+
+Come on then , and remove him .
+
+So , begin .
+
+
+Fear no more the heat o' the sun ,
+Nor the furious winter's rages ;
+Thou thy worldly task hast done ,
+Home art gone , and ta'en thy wages ;
+Golden lads and girls all must ,
+As chimney-sweepers , come to dust .
+
+Fear no more the frown o' the great ,
+Thou art past the tyrant's stroke :
+Care no more to clothe and eat ;
+To thee the reed is as the oak :
+The sceptre , learning , physic , must
+All follow this , and come to dust .
+
+Fear no more the lightning-flash ,
+
+Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone ;
+
+Fear not slander , censure rash ;
+
+Thou hast finish'd joy and moan
+
+All lovers young , all lovers must
+Consign to thee , and come to dust .
+
+No exorciser harm thee !
+
+Nor no witchcraft charm thee !
+
+Ghost unlaid forbear thee !
+
+Nothing ill come near thee !
+
+Quiet consummation have ;
+And renowned be thy grave !
+
+We have done our obsequies . Come , lay him down .
+
+Here's a few flowers , but 'bout mid-night , more ;
+The herbs that have on them cold dew o' the night
+Are strewings fitt'st for graves . Upon their faces
+You were as flowers , now wither'd ; even so
+These herblets shall , which we upon you strew .
+Come on , away ; apart upon our knees .
+The ground that gave them first has them again ;
+Their pleasures here are past , so is their pain .
+
+
+Yes , sir , to Milford-Haven ; which is the way ?
+I thank you . By yond bush ? Pray , how far thither ?
+'Ods pittikins ! can it be six mile yet ?
+I have gone all night : Faith , I'll lie down and sleep .
+
+
+But , soft ! no bed-fellow ! O gods and goddesses !
+These flowers are like the pleasures of the world ;
+This bloody man , the care on 't . I hope I dream ;
+For so I thought I was a cave-keeper ,
+And cook to honest creatures ; but 'tis not so ,
+'Twas but a bolt of nothing , shot at nothing ,
+Which the brain makes of fumes . Our very eyes
+Are sometimes like our judgments , blind . Good faith ,
+I tremble still with fear ; but if there be
+Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity
+As a wren's eye , fear'd gods , a part of it !
+The dream's here still ; even when I wake , it is
+Without me , as within me ; not imagin'd , felt .
+A headless man ! The garments of Posthumus !
+I know the shape of 's leg , this is his hand ,
+His foot Mercurial , his Martial thigh ,
+The brawns of Hercules , but his Jovial face
+Murder in heaven ? How ! 'Tis gone . Pisanio ,
+All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks ,
+And mine to boot , be darted on thee ! Thou ,
+Conspir'd with that irregulous devil , Cloten ,
+Hast here cut off my lord . To write and read
+Be henceforth treacherous ! Damn'd Pisanio
+Hath with his forged letters , damn'd Pisanio ,
+From this most bravest vessel of the world
+Struck the main-top ! O Posthumus ! alas !
+Where is thy head ? where's that ? Ay me ! where's that ?
+Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart ,
+And left this head on . How should this be ? Pisanio ?
+'Tis he and Cloten ; malice and lucre in them
+Have laid this woe here . O ! 'tis pregnant , pregnant !
+The drug he gave me , which he said was precious
+And cordial to me , have I not found it
+Murderous to the senses ? That confirms it home ;
+This is Pisanio's deed , and Cloten's : O !
+Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood ,
+That we the horrider may seem to those
+Which chance to find us . O ! my lord , my lord .
+
+To them the legions garrison'd in Gallia ,
+After your will , have cross'd the sea , attending
+You here at Milford-Haven with your ships :
+They are in readiness .
+
+But what from Rome ?
+
+The senate hath stirr'd up the confiners
+And gentlemen of Italy , most willing spirits ,
+That promise noble service ; and they come
+Under the conduct of bold Iachimo ,
+Sienna's brother .
+
+When expect you them ?
+
+With the next benefit o' the wind .
+
+This forwardness
+Makes our hopes fair . Command our present numbers
+Be muster'd ; bid the captains look to 't . Now , sir ,
+What have you dream'd of late of this war's purpose ?
+
+Last night the very gods show'd me a vision ,
+I fast and pray'd for their intelligence ,thus :
+I saw Jove's bird , the Roman eagle , wing'd
+From the spongy south to this part of the west ,
+There vanish'd in the sunbeams ; which portends ,
+Unless my sins abuse my divination ,
+Success to the Roman host .
+
+Dream often so ,
+And never false . Soft , ho ! what trunk is here
+Without his top ? The ruin speaks that sometime
+It was a worthy building . How ! a page !
+Or dead or sleeping on him ? But dead rather ,
+For nature doth abhor to make his bed
+With the defunct , or sleep upon the dead .
+Let's see the boy's face .
+
+He's alive , my lord .
+
+He'll , then , instruct us of this body . Young one ,
+Inform us of thy fortunes , for it seems
+They crave to be demanded . Who is this
+Thou mak'st thy bloody pillow ? Or who was he
+That , otherwise than noble nature did ,
+Hath alter'd that good picture ? What's thy interest
+In this sad wrack ? How came it ? Who is it ?
+What art thou ?
+
+I am nothing ; or if not ,
+Nothing to be were better . This was my master ,
+A very valiant Briton and a good ,
+That here by mountaineers lies slain . Alas !
+There are no more such masters ; I may wander
+From east to occident , cry out for service ,
+Try many , all good , serve truly , never
+Find such another master .
+
+'Lack , good youth !
+Thou mov'st no less with thy complaining than
+Thy master in bleeding . Say his name , good friend .
+
+Richard du Champ .
+
+If I do lie and do
+No harm by it , though the gods hear , I hope
+They'll pardon it .Say you , sir ?
+
+Thy name ?
+
+Fidele , sir .
+
+Thou dost approve thyself the very same ;
+Thy name well fits thy faith , thy faith thy name .
+Wilt take thy chance with me ? I will not say
+Thou shalt be so well master'd , but be sure
+No less belov'd . The Roman emperor's letters ,
+Sent by a consul to me , should not sooner
+Than thine own worth prefer thee . Go with me .
+
+I'll follow , sir . But first , an 't please the gods ,
+I'll hide my master from the flies , as deep
+As these poor pickaxes can dig ; and when
+With wild wood-leaves and weeds I ha' strew'd his grave ,
+And on it said a century of prayers ,
+Such as I can , twice o'er , I'll weep and sigh ;
+And , leaving so his service , follow you ,
+So please you entertain me .
+
+Ay , good youth ,
+And rather father thee than master thee .
+My friends ,
+The boy hath taught us manly duties ; let us
+Find out the prettiest daisied plot we can ,
+And make him with our pikes and partisans
+A grave ; come , arm him . Boy , he is preferr'd
+By thee to us , and he shall be interr'd
+As soldiers can . Be cheerful ; wipe thine eyes :
+Some falls are means the happier to arise .
+
+
+Again ; and bring me word how 'tis with her .
+
+A fever with the absence of her son ,
+A madness , of which her life's in danger . Heavens !
+How deeply you at once do touch me . Imogen ,
+The great part of my comfort , gone ; my queen
+Upon a desperate bed , and in a time
+When fearful wars point at me ; her son gone ,
+So needful for this present : it strikes me , past
+The hope of comfort . But for thee , fellow ,
+Who needs must know of her departure and
+Dost seem so ignorant , we'll enforce it from thee
+By a sharp torture .
+
+Sir , my life is yours ,
+I humbly set it at your will ; but , for my mistress ,
+I nothing know where she remains , why gone ,
+Nor when she purposes return . Beseech your highness ,
+Hold me your loyal servant .
+
+Good my liege ,
+The day that she was missing he was here ;
+I dare be bound he's true and shall perform
+All parts of his subjection loyally . For Cloten ,
+There wants no diligence in seeking him ,
+And will , no doubt , be found .
+
+The time is troublesome .
+
+
+We'll slip you for a season ; but our jealousy
+Does yet depend .
+
+So please-your majesty ,
+The Roman legions , all from Gallia drawn ,
+Are landed on your coast , with a supply
+Of Roman gentlemen , by the senate sent .
+
+Now for the counsel of my son and queen !
+I am amaz'd with matter .
+
+Good my liege ,
+Your preparation can affront no less
+Than what you hear of ; come more , for more you're ready :
+The want is , but to put those powers in motion
+That long to move .
+
+I thank you . Let's withdraw ;
+And meet the time as it seeks us . We fear not
+What can from Italy annoy us , but
+We grieve at chances here . Away !
+
+
+I heard no letter from my master since
+I wrote him Imogen was slain ; 'tis strange ;
+Nor hear I from my mistress , who did promise
+To yield me often tidings ; neither know I
+What is betid to Cloten ; but remain
+Perplex'd in all : the heavens still must work .
+Wherein I am false I am honest ; not true to be true :
+These present wars shall find I love my country ,
+Even to the note o' the king , or I'll fall in them .
+All other doubts , by time let them be clear'd ;
+Fortune brings in some boats that are not steer'd .
+
+
+The noise is round about us .
+
+Let us from it .
+
+What pleasure , sir , find we in life , to lock it
+From action and adventure ?
+
+Nay , what hope
+Have we in hiding us ? this way , the Romans
+Must or for Britons slay us , or receive us
+For barbarous and unnatural revolts
+During their use , and slay us after .
+
+Sons ,
+We'll higher to the mountains ; there secure us .
+To the king's party there's no going ; newness
+Of Cloten's death ,we being not known , not muster'd
+Among the bands ,may drive us to a render
+Where we have liv'd , and so extort from 's that
+Which we have done , whose answer would be death
+Drawn on with torture .
+
+This is , sir , a doubt
+In such a time nothing becoming you ,
+Nor satisfying us .
+
+It is not likely
+That when they hear the Roman horses neigh ,
+Behold their quarter'd fires , have both their eyes
+And ears so cloy'd importantly as now ,
+That they will waste their time upon our note ,
+To know from whence we are .
+
+O ! I am known
+Of many in the army ; many years ,
+Though Cloten then but young , you see , not wore him
+From my remembrance . And , besides , the king
+Hath not deserv'd my service nor your loves
+Who find in my exile the want of breeding ,
+The certainty of this hard life ; aye hopeless
+To have the courtesy your cradle promis'd ,
+But to be still hot summer's tanlings and
+The shrinking slaves of winter .
+
+Than be so
+Better to cease to be . Pray , sir , to the army :
+I and my brother are not known ; yourself ,
+So out of thought , and thereto so o'ergrown ,
+Cannot be question'd .
+
+By this sun that shines ,
+I'll thither : what thing is it that I never
+Did see man die ! scarce ever look'd on blood
+But that of coward hares , hot goats , and venison !
+Never bestrid a horse , save one that had
+A rider like myself , who ne'er wore rowel
+Nor iron on his heel ! I am asham'd
+To look upon the holy sun , to have
+The benefit of his bless'd beams , remaining
+So long a poor unknown .
+
+By heavens ! I'll go :
+If you will bless me , sir , and give me leave ,
+I'll take the better care ; but if you will not ,
+The hazard therefore due fall on me by
+The hands of Romans .
+
+So say I ; amen .
+
+No reason I , since of your lives you set
+So slight a valuation , should reserve
+My crack'd one to more care . Have with you , boys !
+If in your country wars you chance to die ,
+That is my bed too , lads , and there I'll lie :
+Lead , lead .
+
+The time seems long ; their blood thinks scorn ,
+Till it fly out and show them princes born .
+
+Yea , bloody cloth , I'll keep thee , for I wish'd
+Thou shouldst be colour'd thus . You married ones ,
+If each of you should take this course , how many
+Must murder wives much better than themselves
+For wrying but a little ! O Pisanio !
+Every good servant does not all commands ;
+No bond but to do just ones . Gods ! if you
+Should have ta'en vengeance on my faults , I never
+Had liv'd to put on this ; so had you sav'd
+The noble Imogen to repent , and struck
+Me , wretch more worth your vengeance . But , alack !
+You snatch some hence for little faults ; that's love ,
+To have them fall no more ; you some permit
+To second ills with ills , each elder worse ,
+And make them dread it , to the doers' thrift .
+But Imogen is your own ; do your best wills ,
+And make me bless'd to obey . I am brought hither
+Among the Italian gentry , and to fight
+Against my lady's kingdom ; 'tis enough
+That , Britain , I have kill'd thy mistress-piece !
+I'll give no wound to thee . Therefore good heavens ,
+Hear patiently my purpose : I'll disrobe me
+Of these Italian weeds , and suit myself
+As does a Briton peasant ; so I'll fight
+Against the part I come with , so I'll die
+For thee , O Imogen ! even for whom my life
+Is , every breath , a death : and thus , unknown ,
+Pitied nor hated , to the face of peril
+Myself I'll dedicate . Let me make men know
+More valour in me than my habits show .
+Gods ! put the strength o' the Leonati in me .
+To shame the guise o' the world , I will begin
+The fashion , less without and more within .
+
+
+The heaviness and guilt within my bosom
+Takes off my manhood : I have belied a lady ,
+The princess of this country , and the air on 't
+Revengingly enfeebles me ; or could this carl ,
+A very drudge of nature's , have subdu'd me
+In my profession ? Knighthoods and honours , borne
+As I wear mine , are titles but of scorn .
+If that thy gentry , Britain , go before
+This lout as he exceeds our lords , the odds
+Is that we scarce are men and you are gods .
+
+
+Stand , stand ! We have the advantage of the ground .
+The lane is guarded ; nothing routs us but
+The villany of our fears .
+
+Stand , stand , and fight !
+
+Stand , stand , and fight !
+
+Away , boy , from the troops , and save thyself ;
+For friends kill friends , and the disorder's such
+As war were hoodwink'd .
+
+'Tis their fresh supplies .
+
+It is a day turn'd strangely : or betimes
+Let's re-inforce , or fly .
+
+
+Cam'st thou from where they made the stand ?
+
+I did :
+Though you , it seems , come from the fliers .
+
+I did .
+
+No blame be to you , sir ; for all was lost ,
+But that the heavens fought . The king himself
+Of his wings destitute , the army broken ,
+And but the backs of Britons seen , all flying
+Through a strait lane ; the enemy full-hearted ,
+Lolling the tongue with slaughtering , having work
+More plentiful than tools to do 't , struck down
+Some mortally , some slightly touch'd , some falling
+Merely through fear ; that the strait pass was damm'd
+With dead men hurt behind , and cowards living
+To die with lengthen'd shame .
+
+Where was this lane ?
+
+Close by the battle , ditch'd , and wall'd with turf ;
+Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier ,
+An honest one , I warrant ; who deserv'd
+So long a breeding as his white beard came to ,
+In doing this for his country ; athwart the lane ,
+He , with two striplings ,lads more like to run
+The country base than to commit such slaughter ,
+With faces fit for masks , or rather fairer
+Than those for preservation cas'd , or shame ,
+Made good the passage ; cried to those that fled ,
+'Our Britain's harts die flying , not our men :
+To darkness fleet souls that fly backwards . Stand !
+Or we are Romans , and will give you that
+Like beasts which you shun beastly , and may save ,
+But to look back in frown : stand , stand !' These three ,
+Three thousand confident , in act as many ,
+For three performers are the file when all
+The rest do nothing ,with this word , 'Stand , stand !'
+Accommodated by the place , more charming
+With their own nobleness ,which could have turn'd
+A distaff to a lance ,gilded pale looks ,
+Part shame , part spirit renew'd ; that some , turn'd coward
+But by example ,O ! a sin of war ,
+Damn'd in the first beginners ,'gan to look
+The way that they did , and to grin like lions
+Upon the pikes o' the hunters . Then began
+A stop i' the chaser , a retire , anon ,
+A rout , confusion thick ; forthwith they fly
+Chickens , the way which they stoop'd eagles ; slaves ,
+The strides they victors made . And now our cowards
+Like fragments in hard voyages became
+The life o' the need ; having found the back door open
+Of the unguarded hearts , Heavens ! how they wound ;
+Some slain before ; some dying ; some their friends
+O'er-borne i' the former wave ; ten , chas'd by one ,
+Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty ;
+Those that would die or ere resist are grown
+The mortal bugs o' the field .
+
+This was strange chance :
+A narrow lane , an old man , and two boys !
+
+Nay , do not wonder at it ; you are made
+Rather to wonder at the things you hear
+Than to work any . Will you rime upon 't ,
+And vent it for a mockery ? Here is one :
+'Two boys , an old man twice a boy , a lane ,
+Preserv'd the Britons , was the Romans' bane .'
+
+Nay , be not angry , sir .
+
+'Lack ! to what end ?
+Who dares not stand his foe , I'll be his friend ;
+For if he'll do , as he is made to do ,
+I know he'll quickly fly my friendship too .
+You have put me into rime .
+
+Farewell ; you're angry .
+
+
+Still going ?This is a lord ! O noble misery !
+To be i' the field , and ask , 'what news ?' of me !
+To-day how many would have given their honours
+To have sav'd their carcases ! took heel to do 't ,
+And yet died too ! I , in mine own woe charm'd ,
+Could not find death where I did hear him groan ,
+Nor feel him where he struck : being an ugly monster ,
+'Tis strange he hides him in fresh cups , soft beds ,
+Sweet words ; or hath more ministers than we
+That draw his knives i' the war . Well , I will find him ;
+For being now a favourer to the Briton ,
+No more a Briton , I have resum'd again
+The part I came in ; fight I will no more ,
+But yield me to the veriest hind that shall
+Once touch my shoulder . Great the slaughter is
+Here made by the Roman ; great the answer be
+Britons must take . For me , my ransom's death ;
+On either side I come to spend my breath ,
+Which neither here I'll keep nor bear agen ,
+But end it by some means for Imogen .
+
+
+Great Jupiter be prais'd ! Lucius is taken .
+'Tis thought the old man and his sons were angels .
+
+There was a fourth man , in a silly habit ,
+That gave th' affront with them .
+
+So 'tis reported ;
+But none of 'em can be found . Stand ! who is there ?
+
+A Roman ,
+Who had not now been drooping here , if seconds
+Had answer'd him .
+
+Lay hands on him ; a dog !
+A lag of Rome shall not return to tell
+What crows have peck'd them here . He brags his service
+As if he were of note : bring him to the king .
+
+
+You shall not now be stol'n , you have locks upon you :
+So graze as you find pasture .
+
+Ay , or a stomach .
+
+
+Most welcome , bondage ! for thou art a way ,
+I think , to liberty . Yet am I better
+Than one that's sick o' the gout , since he had rather
+Groan so in perpetuity than be cur'd
+By the sure physician death ; who is the key
+To unbar these locks . My conscience , thou art fetter'd
+More than my shanks and wrists : you good gods , give me
+The penitent instrument to pick that bolt ;
+Then , free for ever ! Is 't enough I am sorry ?
+So children temporal fathers do appease ;
+Gods are more full of mercy . Must I repent ?
+I cannot do it better than in gyves ,
+Desir'd more than constrain'd ; to satisfy ,
+If of my freedom 'tis the main part , take
+No stricter render of me than my all .
+I know you are more clement than vile men ,
+Who of their broken debtors take a third ,
+A sixth , a tenth , letting them thrive again
+On their abatement : that's not my desire ;
+For Imogen's dear life take mine ; and though
+'Tis not so dear , yet 'tis a life ; you coin'd it ;
+'Tween man and man they weigh not every stamp ;
+Though light , take pieces for the figure's sake :
+You rather mine , being yours ; and so great powers ,
+If you will take this audit , take this life ,
+And cancel these cold bonds . O Imogen !
+I'll speak to thee in silence .
+
+
+No more , thou thunder-master , show
+Thy spite on mortal flies :
+With Mars fall out , with Juno chide ,
+That thy adulteries
+Rates and revenges .
+Hath my poor boy done aught but well ,
+Whose face I never saw ?
+I died whilst in the womb he stay'd
+Attending nature's law :
+Whose father then as men report ,
+Thou orphans' father art
+Thou shouldst have been , and shielded him
+From this earth-vexing smart .
+
+Lucina lent not me her aid ,
+But took me in my throes ;
+That from me was Posthumus ript ,
+Came crying 'mongst his foes ,
+A thing of pity !
+
+Great nature , like his ancestry ,
+Moulded the stuff so fair ,
+That he deserv'd the praise o' the world ,
+As great Sicilius' heir .
+
+When once he was mature for man ,
+In Britain where was he
+That could stand up his parallel ,
+Or fruitful object be
+In eye of Imogen , that best
+Could deem his dignity ?
+
+With marriage wherefore was he mock'd ,
+To be exil'd , and thrown
+From Leonati's seat , and cast
+From her his dearest one ,
+Sweet Imogen ?
+
+Why did you suffer Iachimo ,
+Slight thing of Italy ,
+To taint his nobler heart and brain
+With needless jealousy ;
+And to become the geck and scorn
+O' the other's villany ?
+
+For this from stiller seats we came ,
+Our parents and us twain ,
+That striking in our country's cause
+Fell bravely and were slain ;
+Our fealty and Tenantius' right
+With honour to maintain .
+
+Like hardiment Posthumus hath
+To Cymbeline perform'd :
+Then Jupiter , thou king of gods ,
+Why hast thou thus adjourn'd
+The graces for his merits due ,
+Being all to dolours turn'd ?
+
+Thy crystal window ope ; look out ;
+No longer exercise
+Upon a valiant race thy harsh
+And potent injuries .
+
+Since , Jupiter , our son is good ,
+Take off his miseries .
+
+Peep through thy marble mansion ; help !
+Or we poor ghosts will cry
+To the shining synod of the rest
+Against thy deity .
+
+Help , Jupiter ! or we appeal ,
+And from thy justice fly .
+
+
+No more , you petty spirits of region low , Offend our hearing ; hush ! How dare you ghosts
+Accuse the thunderer , whose bolt , you know ,
+Sky-planted , batters all rebelling coasts ?
+Poor shadows of Elysium , hence ; and rest
+Upon your never-withering banks of flowers :
+Be not with mortal accidents opprest ;
+No care of yours it is ; you know 'tis ours .
+Whom best I love I cross ; to make my gift ,
+The more delay'd , delighted . Be content ;
+Your low-laid son our godhead will uplift :
+His comforts thrive , his trials well are spent .
+Our Jovial star reign'd at his birth , and in
+Our temple was he married . Rise , and fade !
+He shall be lord of Lady Imogen ,
+And happier much by his affliction made .
+This tablet lay upon his breast , wherein
+Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine ;
+And so , away : no further with your din
+Express impatience , lest you stir up mine .
+Mount , eagle , to my palace crystalline .
+
+
+He came in thunder ; his celestial breath
+Was sulphurous to smell ; the holy eagle
+Stoop'd , as to foot us ; his ascension is
+More sweet than our bless'd fields ; his royal bird
+Prunes the immortal wing and cloys his beak ,
+As when his god is pleas'd .
+
+Thanks , Jupiter !
+
+The marble pavement closes ; he is enter'd
+His radiant roof . Away ! and , to be blest ,
+Let us with care perform his great behest .
+
+
+Sleep , thou hast been a grandsire , and begot
+A father to me ; and thou hast created
+A mother and two brothers . But O scorn !
+Gone ! they went hence so soon as they were born :
+And so I am awake . Poor wretches , that depend
+On greatness' favour dream as I have done ;
+Wake , and find nothing . But , alas ! I swerve :
+Many dream not to find , neither deserve ,
+And yet are steep'd in favours ; so am I ,
+That have this golden chance and know not why .
+What fairies haunt this ground ? A book ? O rare one !
+Be not , as is our fangled world , a garment
+Nobler than that it covers : let thy effects
+So follow , to be most unlike our courtiers ,
+As good as promise .
+Whenas a lion's whelp shall , to himself unknown , without seeking find , and be embraced by a piece of tender air ; and when from a stately cedar shall be lopped branches , which , being dead many years , shall after revive , be jointed to the old stock , and freshly grow , then shall Posthumus end his miseries , Britain be fortunate , and flourish in peace and plenty .
+'Tis still a dream , or else such stuff as madmen
+Tongue and brain not ; either both or nothing ;
+Or senseless speaking , or a speaking such
+As sense cannot untie . Be what it is ,
+The action of my life is like it , which
+I'll keep , if but for sympathy .
+
+
+Come , sir , are you ready for death ?
+
+Over-roasted rather ; ready long ago .
+
+Hanging is the word , sir : if you be ready for that , you are well cooked .
+
+So , if I prove a good repast to the spectators , the dish pays the shot .
+
+A heavy reckoning for you , sir ; but the comfort is , you shall be called to no more payments , fear no more tavern-bills , which are often the sadness of parting , as the procuring of mirth . You come in faint for want of meat , depart reeling with too much drink , sorry that you have paid too much ; and sorry that you are paid too much ; purse and brain both empty ; the brain the heavier for being too light , the purse too light , being drawn of heaviness of this contradiction you shall now be quit . O ! the charity of a penny cord ; it sums up thousands in a trice : you have no true debitor and creditor but it ; of what's past , is , and to come , the discharge . Your neck , sir , is pen , book and counters ; so the acquittance follows .
+
+I am merrier to die than thou art to live .
+
+Indeed , sir , he that sleeps feels not the toothache ; but a man that were to sleep your sleep , and a hangman to help him to bed , I think he would change places with his officer ; for look you , sir , you know not which way you shall go .
+
+Yes , indeed do I , fellow .
+
+Your death has eyes in 's head , then ; I have not seen him so pictured : you must either be directed by some that take upon them to know , or take upon yourself that which I am sure you do not know , or jump the after inquiry on your own peril : and how you shall speed in your journey's end , I think you'll never return to tell one .
+
+I tell thee , fellow , there are none want eyes to direct them the way I am going but such as wink and will not use them .
+
+What an infinite mock is this , that a man should have the best use of eyes to see the way of blindness ! I am sure hanging's the way of winking .
+
+
+Knock off his manacles ; bring your prisoner to the king .
+
+Thou bring'st good news ; I am called to be made free .
+
+I'll be hang'd , then .
+
+Thou shalt be then freer than a gaoler ; no bolts for the dead .
+
+
+Unless a man would marry a gallows and beget young gibbets , I never saw one so prone . Yet , on my conscience , there are verier knaves desire to live , for all he be a Roman ; and there be some of them too , that die against their wills ; so should I , if I were one . I would we were all of one mind , and one mind good ; O ! there were desolation of gaolers and gallowses . I speak against my present profit , but my wish hath a preferment in 't .
+
+
+Stand by my side , you whom the gods have made
+Preservers of my throne . Woe is my heart
+That the poor soldier that so richly fought ,
+Whose rags sham'd gilded arms , whose naked breast
+Stepp'd before targes of proof , cannot be found :
+He shall be happy that can find him , if
+Our grace can make him so .
+
+I never saw
+Such noble fury in so poor a thing ;
+Such precious deeds in one that promis'd nought
+But beggary and poor looks .
+
+No tidings of him ?
+
+He hath been search'd among the dead and living ,
+But no trace of him .
+
+To my grief , I am
+The heir of his reward ; which I will add
+
+To you , the liver , heart , and brain of Britain ,
+By whom , I grant , she lives . 'Tis now the time
+To ask of whence you are : report it .
+
+Sir ,
+In Cambria are we born , and gentlemen :
+Further to boast were neither true nor modest ,
+Unless I add , we are honest .
+
+Bow your knees .
+Arise , my knights o' the battle : I create you
+Companions to our person , and will fit you
+With dignities becoming your estates .
+
+
+There's business in these faces . Why so sadly
+Greet you our victory ? you look like Romans ,
+
+And not o' the court of Britain .
+
+Hail , great king !
+To sour your happiness , I must report
+The queen is dead .
+
+Whom worse than a physician
+Would this report become ? But I consider ,
+By medicine life may be prolong'd , yet death
+Will seize the doctor too . How ended she ?
+
+With horror , madly dying , like her life ;
+Which , being cruel to the world , concluded
+Most cruel to herself . What she confess'd
+I will report , so please you : these her women
+Can trip me if I err ; who with wet cheeks
+Were present when she finish'd .
+
+Prithee , say .
+
+First , she confess'd she never lov'd you , only
+Affected greatness got by you , not you ;
+Married your royalty , was wife to your place ;
+Abhorr'd your person .
+
+She alone knew this ;
+And , but she spoke it dying , I would not
+Believe her lips in opening it . Proceed .
+
+Your daughter , whom she bore in hand to love
+With such integrity , she did confess
+Was as a scorpion to her sight ; whose life ,
+But that her flight prevented it , she had
+Ta'en off by poison .
+
+O most delicate fiend !
+Who is't can read a woman ? Is there more ?
+
+More , sir , and worse . She did confess she had
+For you a mortal mineral ; which , being took ,
+Should by the minute feed on life , and ling'ring ,
+By inches waste you ; in which time she purpos'd ,
+By watching , weeping , tendance , kissing , to
+O'ercome you with her show ; yea , and in time
+When she had fitted you with her craft to work
+Her son into the adoption of the crown ;
+But failing of her end by his strange absence ,
+Grew shameless-desperate ; open'd , in despite
+Of heaven and men , her purposes ; repented
+The evils she hatch'd were not effected : so ,
+Despairing died .
+
+Heard you all this , her women ?
+
+We did , so please your highness .
+
+Mine eyes
+Were not in fault , for she was beautiful ;
+Mine ears , that heard her flattery ; nor my heart ,
+That thought her like her seeming : it had been vicious
+To have mistrusted her : yet , O my daughter !
+That it was folly in me , thou mayst say ,
+And prove it in thy feeling . Heaven mend all !
+
+Thou com'st not , Caius , now for tribute ; that
+The Britons have raz'd out , though with the loss
+Of many a bold one ; whose kinsmen have made suit
+That their good souls may be appeas'd with slaughter
+Of you their captives , which ourself have granted :
+
+So , think of your estate .
+
+Consider , sir , the chance of war : the day
+Was yours by accident ; had it gone with us ,
+We should not , when the blood was cool , have threaten'd
+Our prisoners with the sword . But since the gods
+Will have it thus , that nothing but our lives
+May be call'd ransom , let it come ; sufficeth ,
+A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer ;
+Augustus lives to think on 't ; and so much
+For my peculiar care . This one thing only
+I will entreat ; my boy , a Briton born ,
+Let him be ransom'd ; never master had
+A page so kind , so duteous , diligent ,
+So tender over his occasions , true ,
+So feat , so nurse-like . Let his virtue join
+With my request , which I'll make bold your highness
+Cannot deny ; he hath done no Briton harm ,
+Though he have serv'd a Roman . Save him , sir ,
+And spare no blood beside .
+
+I have surely seen him ;
+His favour is familiar to me . Boy ,
+Thou hast look'd thyself into my grace ,
+And art mine own . I know not why nor wherefore ,
+To say , 'live , boy :' ne'er thank thy master ; live :
+And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt ,
+Fitting my bounty and thy state , I'll give it ;
+Yea , though thou do demand a prisoner ,
+The noblest ta'en .
+
+I humbly thank your highness .
+
+I do not bid thee beg my life , good lad ;
+And yet I know thou wilt .
+
+No , no ; alack !
+There's other work in hand . I see a thing
+Bitter to me as death ; your life , good master ,
+Must shuffle for itself .
+
+The boy disdains me ,
+He leaves me , scorns me ; briefly die their joys
+That place them on the truth of girls and boys .
+Why stands he so perplex'd ?
+
+What wouldst thou , boy ?
+I love thee more and more ; think more and more
+What's best to ask . Know'st him thou look'st on ? speak ;
+Wilt have him live ? Is he thy kin ? thy friend ?
+
+He is a Roman ; no more kin to me
+Than I to your highness ; who , being born your vassal ,
+Am something nearer .
+
+Wherefore ey'st him so ?
+
+I'll tell you , sir , in private , if you please
+To give me hearing .
+
+Ay , with all my heart ,
+And lend my best attention . What's thy name ?
+
+Fidele , sir .
+
+Thou'rt my good youth , my page ;
+I'll be thy master : walk with me ; speak freely .
+
+
+Is not this boy reviv'd from death ?
+
+One sand another
+Not more resembles ;that sweet rosy lad
+Who died , and was Fidele . What think you ?
+
+The same dead thing alive .
+
+Peace , peace ! see further ; he eyes us not ; forbear ;
+Creatures may be alike ; were 't he , I am sure
+He would have spoke to us .
+
+But we saw him dead .
+
+Be silent ; let's see further .
+
+It is my mistress :
+Since she is living , let the time run on
+To good , or bad .
+
+
+Come , stand thou by our side :
+Make thy demand aloud .
+
+Sir , step you forth ;
+Give answer to this boy , and do it freely ,
+Or , by our greatness and the grace of it ,
+Which is our honour , bitter torture shall
+Winnow the truth from falsehood . On , speak to him .
+
+My boon is , that this gentleman may render
+Of whom he had this ring .
+
+What's that to him ?
+
+That diamond upon your finger , say
+How came it yours ?
+
+Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken that
+Which , to be spoke , would torture thee .
+
+How ! me ?
+
+I am glad to be constrain'd to utter that
+Which torments me to conceal . By villany
+I got this ring ; 'twas Leonatus' jewel ,
+Whom thou didst banish , and which more may grieve thee ,
+As it doth me a nobler sir ne'er liv'd
+'Twixt sky and ground . Wilt thou hear more , my lord ?
+
+All that belongs to this .
+
+That paragon , thy daughter ,
+For whom my heart drops blood , and my false spirits
+Quail to remember ,Give me leave ; I faint .
+
+My daughter ! what of her ? Renew thy strength ;
+I had rather thou shouldst live while nature will
+Than die ere I hear more . Strive , man , and speak .
+
+Upon a time ,unhappy was the clock
+That struck the hour !it was in Rome ,accurs'd
+The mansion where !'twas at a feast O , would
+Our viands had been poison'd , or at least
+Those which I heav'd to head !the good Posthumus ,
+What should I say ? he was too good to be
+Where ill men were ; and was the best of all
+Amongst the rar'st of good ones ;sitting sadly
+Hearing us praise our loves of Italy
+For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast
+Of him that best could speak ; for feature laming
+The shrine of Venus , or straight-pight Minerva ,
+Postures beyond brief nature ; for condition ,
+A shop of all the qualities that man
+Loves woman for ; besides that hook of wiving ,
+Fairness which strikes the eye .
+
+I stand on fire .
+Come to the matter .
+
+All too soon I shall ,
+Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly . This Posthumus
+Most like a noble lord in love , and one
+That had a royal lover took his hint ;
+And , not dispraising whom we prais'd ,therein
+He was as calm as virtue ,he began
+His mistress' picture ; which by his tongue being made ,
+And then a mind put in 't , either our brags
+Were crack'd of kitchen trulls , or his description
+Prov'd us unspeaking sots .
+
+Nay , nay , to the purpose .
+
+Your daughter's chastity , there it begins .
+He spake of her as Dian had hot dreams ,
+And she alone were cold ; whereat I , wretch ,
+Made scruple of his praise , and wager'd with him
+Pieces of gold 'gainst this , which then he wore
+Upon his honour'd finger , to attain
+In suit the place of his bed , and win this ring
+By hers and mine adultery . He , true knight ,
+No lesser of her honour confident
+Than I did truly find her , stakes this ring ;
+And would so , had it been a carbuncle
+Of Ph bus' wheel ; and might so safely , had it
+Been all the worth of 's car . Away to Britain
+Post I in this design . Well may you , sir ,
+Remember me at court , where I was taught
+Of your chaste daughter the wide difference
+'Twixt amorous and villanous . Being thus quench'd
+Of hope , not longing , mine Italian brain
+'Gan in your duller Britain operate
+Most vilely ; for my vantage , excellent ;
+And , to be brief , my practice so prevail'd ,
+That I return'd with simular proof enough
+To make the noble Leonatus mad ,
+By wounding his belief in her renown
+With tokens thus , and thus ; averring notes
+Of chamber-hanging , pictures , this her bracelet ;
+Oh cunning ! how I got it !nay , some marks
+Of secret on her person , that he could not
+But think her bond of chastity quite crack'd ,
+I having ta'en the forfeit . Whereupon ,
+Methinks I see him now ,
+
+Ay , so thou dost ,
+Italian fiend !Ay me , most credulous fool ,
+Egregious murderer , thief , any thing
+That's due to all the villains past , in being ,
+To come . O ! give me cord , or knife , or poison ,
+Some upright justicer . Thou king , send out
+For torturers ingenious ; it is I
+That all the abhorred things o' the earth amend
+By being worse than they . I am Posthumus ,
+That kill'd thy daughter ; villain-like , I lie ;
+That caus'd a lesser villain than myself ,
+A sacrilegious thief , to do 't ; the temple
+Of virtue was she ; yea , and she herself .
+Spit , and throw stones , cast mire upon me , set
+The dogs o' the street to bay me ; every villain
+Be call'd Posthumus Leonatus ; and
+Be villany less than 'twas ! O Imogen !
+My queen , my life , my wife ! O Imogen ,
+Imogen , Imogen !
+
+Peace , my lord ! hear , hear !
+
+Shall 's have a play of this ? Thou scornful page ,
+There lie thy part .
+
+
+O , gentlemen , help !
+Mine , and your mistress ! O ! my Lord Posthumus ,
+You ne'er kill'd Imogen till now . Help , help !
+Mine honour'd lady !
+
+Does the world go round ?
+
+How come these staggers on me ?
+
+Wake , my mistress !
+
+If this be so , the gods do mean to strike me
+To death with mortal joy .
+
+How fares my mistress ?
+
+O ! get thee from my sight :
+Thou gav'st me poison : dangerous fellow , hence !
+Breathe not where princes are .
+
+The tune of Imogen !
+
+Lady ,
+The gods throw stones of sulphur on me , if
+That box I gave you was not thought by me
+A precious thing : I had it from the queen .
+
+New matter still ?
+
+It poison'd me .
+
+O gods !
+I left out one thing which the queen confess'd ,
+Which must approve thee honest : 'If Pisanio
+Have ,' said she , 'given his mistress that confection
+Which I gave him for cordial , she is serv'd
+As I would serve a rat .'
+
+What's this , Cornelius ?
+
+The queen , sir , very oft importun'd me
+To temper poisons for her , still pretending
+The satisfaction of her knowledge only
+In killing creatures vile , as cats and dogs ,
+Of no esteem ; I , dreading that her purpose
+Was of more danger , did compound for her
+A certain stuff , which , being ta'en , would cease
+The present power of life , but in short time
+All offices of nature should again
+Do their due functions . Have you ta'en of it ?
+
+Most like I did , for I was dead .
+
+My boys ,
+There was our error .
+
+This is , sure , Fidele .
+
+Why did you throw your wedded lady from you ?
+Think that you are upon a rock ; and now
+Throw me again .
+
+
+Hang there like fruit , my soul ,
+Till the tree die !
+
+How now , my flesh , my child !
+What , mak'st thou me a dullard in this act ?
+Wilt thou not speak to me ?
+
+Your blessing , sir .
+
+Though you did love this youth , I blame ye not ;
+You had a motive for 't .
+
+My tears that fall
+Prove holy water on thee ! Imogen ,
+Thy mother's dead .
+
+I am sorry for 't , my lord .
+
+O , she was naught ; and long of her it was
+That we meet here so strangely ; but her son
+Is gone , we know not how , nor where .
+
+My lord ,
+Now fear is from me , I'll speak troth . Lord Cloten ,
+Upon my lady's missing , came to me
+With his sword drawn , foam'd at the mouth , and swore
+If I discover'd not which way she was gone ,
+It was my instant death . By accident ,
+I had a feigned letter of my master's
+Then in my pocket , which directed him
+To seek her on the mountains near to Milford ;
+Where , in a frenzy , in my master's garments ,
+Which he enforc'd from me , away he posts
+With unchaste purpose and with oath to violate
+My lady's honour ; what became of him
+I further know not .
+
+Let me end the story :
+I slew him there .
+
+Marry , the gods forfend !
+I would not thy good deeds should from my lips
+Pluck a hard sentence : Prithee , valiant youth ,
+Deny 't again .
+
+I have spoke it , and I did it .
+
+He was a prince .
+
+A most incivil one . The wrongs he did me
+Were nothing prince-like ; for he did provoke me
+With language that would make me spurn the sea
+If it could so roar to me . I cut off 's head ;
+And am right glad he is not standing here
+To tell this tale of mine .
+
+I am sorry for thee :
+By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd , and must
+Endure our law . Thou'rt dead .
+
+That headless man
+I thought had been my lord .
+
+Bind the offender ,
+And take him from our presence .
+
+Stay , sir king :
+This man is better than the man he slew ,
+As well descended as thyself ; and hath
+More of thee merited than a band of Clotens
+Had ever scar for .
+
+Let his arms alone ;
+They were not born for bondage .
+
+Why , old soldier ,
+Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for ,
+By tasting of our wrath ? How of descent
+As good as we ?
+
+In that he spake too far .
+
+And thou shalt die for 't .
+
+We will die all three :
+But I will prove that two on 's are as good
+As I have given out him . My sons , I must
+For mine own part unfold a dangerous speech ,
+Though , haply , well for you .
+
+Your danger's ours .
+
+And our good his .
+
+Have at it , then , by leave .
+Thou hadst , great king , a subject who was call'd
+Belarius .
+
+What of him ? he is
+A banish'd traitor .
+
+He it is that hath
+Assum'd this age : indeed , a banish'd man ;
+I know not how a traitor .
+
+Take him hence :
+The whole world shall not save him .
+
+Not too hot :
+First pay me for the nursing of thy sons ;
+And let it be confiscate all so soon
+As I have receiv'd it .
+
+Nursing of my sons !
+
+I am too blunt and saucy ; here's my knee :
+Ere I arise I will prefer my sons ;
+Then spare not the old father . Mighty sir ,
+These two young gentlemen , that call me father ,
+And think they are my sons , are none of mine ;
+They are the issue of your loins , my liege ,
+And blood of your begetting .
+
+How ! my issue !
+
+So sure as you your father's . I , old Morgan ,
+Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd :
+Your pleasure was my mere offence , my punishment
+Itself , and all my treason ; that I suffer'd
+Was all the harm I did . These gentle princes
+For such and so they are these twenty years
+Have I train'd up ; those arts they have as I
+Could put into them ; my breeding was , sir , as
+Your highness knows . Their nurse , Euriphile ,
+Whom for the theft I wedded , stole these children
+Upon my banishment : I mov'd her to 't ,
+Having receiv'd the punishment before ,
+For that which I did then ; beaten for loyalty
+Excited me to treason . Their dear loss ,
+The more of you 'twas felt the more it shap'd
+Unto my end of stealing them . But , gracious sir ,
+Here are your sons again ; and I must lose
+Two of the sweet'st companions in the world .
+The benediction of these covering heavens
+Fall on their heads like dew ! for they are worthy
+To inlay heaven with stars .
+
+Thou weep'st , and speak'st .
+The service that you three have done is more
+Unlike than this thou tell'st . I lost my children :
+If these be they , I know not how to wish
+A pair of worthier sons .
+
+Be pleas'd awhile .
+This gentleman , whom I call Polydore ,
+Most worthy prince , as yours , is true Guiderius ;
+This gentleman , my Cadwal , Arviragus ,
+Your younger princely son ; he , sir , was lapp'd
+In a most curious mantle , wrought by the hand
+Of his queen mother , which , for more probation ,
+I can with ease produce .
+
+Guiderius had
+Upon his neck a mole , a sanguine star ;
+It was a mark of wonder .
+
+This is he ,
+Who hath upon him still that natural stamp .
+It was wise nature's end in the donation ,
+To be his evidence now .
+
+O ! what , am I
+A mother to the birth of three ? Ne'er mother
+Rejoic'd deliverance more . Blest pray you be ,
+That , after this strange starting from your orbs ,
+You may reign in them now . O Imogen !
+Thou hast lost by this a kingdom .
+
+No , my lord ;
+I have got two worlds by 't . O my gentle brothers !
+Have we thus met ? O , never say hereafter
+But I am truest speaker : you call'd me brother ,
+When I was but your sister ; I you brothers
+When ye were so indeed .
+
+Did you e'er meet ?
+
+Ay , my good lord .
+
+And at first meeting lov'd ;
+Continu'd so , until we thought he died .
+
+By the queen's dram she swallow'd .
+
+O rare instinct !
+When shall I hear all through ? This fierce abridgment
+Hath to it circumstantial branches , which
+Distinction should be rich in . Where ? how liv'd you ?
+And when came you to serve our Roman captive ?
+How parted with your brothers ? how first met them ?
+Why fied you from the court , and whither ? These ,
+And your three motives to the battle , with
+I know not how much more , should be demanded ,
+And all the other by-dependances ,
+From chance to chance , but nor the time nor place
+Will serve our long inter'gatories . See ,
+Posthumus anchors upon Imogen ,
+And she , like harmless lightning , throws her eye
+On him , her brothers , me , her master , hitting
+Each object with a joy : the counterchange
+Is severally in all . Let's quit this ground ,
+And smoke the temple with our sacrifices .
+
+
+Thou art my brother ; so we'll hold thee ever .
+
+You are my father too ; and did relieve me ,
+To see this gracious season .
+
+All o'erjoy'd
+Save these in bonds ; let them be joyful too ,
+For they shall taste our comfort .
+
+My good master ,
+I will yet do you service .
+
+Happy be you !
+
+The forlorn soldier , that so nobly fought
+He would have well becom'd this place and grac'd
+The thankings of a king .
+
+I am , sir ,
+The soldier that did company these three
+In poor beseeming ; 'twas a fitment for
+The purpose I then follow'd . That I was he ,
+Speak , Iachimo ; I had you down and might
+Have made you finish .
+
+I am down again ;
+But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee ,
+As then your force did . Take that life , beseech you ,
+Which I so often owe , but your ring first ,
+And here the bracelet of the truest princess
+That ever swore her faith .
+
+Kneel not to me :
+The power that I have on you is to spare you ;
+The malice towards you to forgive you . Live ,
+And deal with others better .
+
+Nobly doom'd :
+We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law ;
+Pardon's the word to all .
+
+You holp us , sir ,
+As you did mean indeed to be our brother ;
+Joy'd are we that you are .
+
+Your servant , princes . Good my lord of Rome ,
+Call forth your soothsayer . As I slept , methought
+Great Jupiter , upon his eagle back'd ,
+Appear'd to me , with other spritely shows
+Of mine own kindred : when I wak'd , I found
+This label on my bosom ; whose containing
+Is so from sense in hardness that I can
+Make no collection of it ; let him show
+His skill in the construction .
+
+Philarmonus !
+
+Here , my good lord .
+
+Read , and declare the meaning
+
+Whenas a lion's whelp shall , to himself unknown , without seeking find , and be embraced by a piece of tender air ; and when from a stately cedar shall be lopped branches , which , being dead many years , shall after revive , be jointed to the old stock , and freshly grow : then shall Posthumus end his miseries , Britain be fortunate , and flourish in peace and plenty .
+Thou , Leonatus , art the lion's whelp ;
+The fit and apt construction of thy name ,
+Being Leo-natus , doth import so much .
+
+
+The piece of tender air , thy virtuous daughter ,
+Which we call mollis aer ; and mollis aer
+We term it mulier ; which mulier , I divine ,
+Is this most constant wife ; who , even now ,
+Answering the letter of the oracle ,
+Unknown to you ,
+
+unsought , were clipp'd about
+With this most tender air .
+
+This hath some seeming .
+
+The lofty cedar , royal Cymbeline ,
+Personates thee , and thy lopp'd branches point
+Thy two sons forth ; who , by Belarius stolen ,
+For many years thought dead , are now reviv'd
+To the majestic cedar join'd , whose issue
+Promises Britain peace and plenty .
+
+Well ;
+My peace we will begin . And , Caius Lucius ,
+Although the victor , we submit to C sar ,
+And to the Roman empire ; promising
+To pay our wonted tribute , from the which
+We were dissuaded by our wicked queen ;
+Whom heavens in justice both on her and hers
+Have laid most heavy hand .
+
+The fingers of the powers above do tune
+The harmony of this peace . The vision
+Which I made known to Lucius ere the stroke
+Of this yet scarce-cold battle , at this instant
+Is full accomplish'd ; for the Roman eagle ,
+From south to west on wing soaring aloft ,
+Lessen'd herself , and in the beams o' the sun
+So vanish'd : which foreshow'd our princely eagle ,
+The imperial C sar , should again unite
+His favour with the radiant Cymbeline ,
+Which shines here in the west .
+
+Laud we the gods ;
+And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils
+From our bless'd altars . Publish we this peace
+To all our subjects . Set we forward : let
+A Roman and a British ensign wave
+Friendly together ; so through Lud's town march :
+And in the temple of great Jupiter
+Our peace we'll ratify ; seal it with feasts .
+Set on there . Never was a war did cease ,
+Ere bloody hands were wash'd , with such a peace .
+
+LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST
+
+Let fame , that all hunt after in their lives ,
+Live register'd upon our brazen tombs ,
+And then grace us in the disgrace of death ;
+When , spite of cormorant devouring Time ,
+The endeavour of this present breath may buy
+That honour which shall bate his scythe's keen edge ,
+And make us heirs of all eternity .
+Therefore , brave conquerors ,for so you are ,
+That war against your own affections
+And the huge army of the world's desires ,
+Our late edict shall strongly stand in force :
+Navarre shall be the wonder of the world ;
+Our court shall be a little academe ,
+Still and contemplative in living art .
+You three , Berowne , Dumaine , and Longaville ,
+Have sworn for three years' term to live with me ,
+My fellow-scholars , and to keep those statutes
+That are recorded in this schedule here :
+Your oaths are pass'd ; and now subscribe your names ,
+That his own hand may strike his honour down
+That violates the smallest branch herein .
+If you are arm'd to do , as sworn to do ,
+Subscribe to your deep oaths , and keep it too .
+
+I am resolv'd ; 'tis but a three years' fast :
+The mind shall banquet , though the body pine :
+Fat paunches have lean pates , and dainty bits
+Make rich the ribs , but bankrupt quite the wits .
+
+My loving lord , Dumaine is mortified :
+The grosser manner of these world's delights
+He throws upon the gross world's baser slaves :
+To love , to wealth , to pomp , I pine and die ;
+With all these living in philosophy .
+
+I can but say their protestation over ;
+So much , dear liege , I have already sworn ,
+That is , to live and study here three years .
+But there are other strict observances ;
+As , not to see a woman in that term ,
+Which I hope well is not enrolled there :
+And one day in a week to touch no food ,
+And but one meal on every day beside ;
+The which I hope is not enrolled there :
+And then , to sleep but three hours in the night ,
+And not be seen to wink of all the day ,
+When I was wont to think no harm all night
+And make a dark night too of half the day ,
+Which I hope well is not enrolled there .
+O ! these are barren tasks , too hard to keep ,
+Not to see ladies , study , fast , not sleep .
+
+Your oath is pass'd to pass away from these .
+
+Let me say no , my liege , an if you please .
+I only swore to study with your Grace ,
+And stay here in your court for three years' space .
+
+You swore to that , Berowne , and to the rest .
+
+By yea and nay , sir , then I swore in jest .
+What is the end of study ? let me know .
+
+Why , that to know which else we should not know .
+
+Things hid and barr'd , you mean , from common sense ?
+
+Ay , that is study's god-like recompense .
+
+Come on then ; I will swear to study so ,
+To know the thing I am forbid to know ;
+As thus : to study where I well may dine ,
+When I to feast expressly am forbid ;
+Or study where to meet some mistress fine ,
+When mistresses from common sense are hid ;
+Or , having sworn too hard-a-keeping oath ,
+Study to break it , and not break my troth .
+If study's gain be thus , and this be so ,
+Study knows that which yet it doth not know .
+Swear me to this , and I will ne'er say no .
+
+These be the stops that hinder study quite ,
+And train our intellects to vain delight .
+
+Why , all delights are vain ; but that most vain
+Which , with pain purchas'd doth inherit pain :
+As , painfully to pore upon a book ,
+To seek the light of truth ; while truth the while
+Doth falsely blind the eyesight of his look :
+Light seeking light doth light of light beguile :
+So , ere you find where light in darkness lies ,
+Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes .
+Study me how to please the eye indeed ,
+By fixing it upon a fairer eye ,
+Who dazzling so , that eye shall be his heed ,
+And give him light that it was blinded by .
+Study is like the heaven's glorious sun ,
+That will not be deep-search'd with saucy looks ;
+Small have continual plodders ever won ,
+Save base authority from others' books .
+These earthly godfathers of heaven's lights
+That give a name to every fixed star ,
+Have no more profit of their shining nights
+Than those that walk and wot not what they are .
+Too much to know is to know nought but fame ;
+And every godfather can give a name .
+
+How well he's read , to reason against reading !
+
+Proceeded well , to stop all good proceeding !
+
+He weeds the corn , and still lets grow the weeding .
+
+The spring is near , when green geese are a-breeding .
+
+How follows that ?
+
+Fit in his place and time .
+
+In reason nothing .
+
+Something then , in rime .
+
+Berowne is like an envious sneaping frost
+That bites the first-born infants of the spring .
+
+Well , say I am : why should proud summer boast
+Before the birds have any cause to sing ?
+Why should I joy in an abortive birth ?
+At Christmas I no more desire a rose
+Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled mirth ;
+But like of each thing that in season grows .
+So you , to study now it is too late ,
+Climb o'er the house to unlock the little gate .
+
+Well , sit you out : go home , Berowne : adieu !
+
+No , my good lord ; I have sworn to stay with you :
+And though I have for barbarism spoke more
+Than for that angel knowledge you can say ,
+Yet confident I'll keep to what I swore ,
+And bide the penance of each three years' day .
+Give me the paper ; let me read the same ;
+And to the strict'st decrees I'll write my name .
+
+How well this yielding rescues thee from shame !
+
+Item , That no woman shall come within a mile of my court . Hath this been proclaimed ?
+
+Four days ago .
+
+Let's see the penalty . On pain of losing her tongue . Who devised this penalty ?
+
+Marry , that did I .
+
+Sweet lord , and why ?
+
+To fright them hence with that dread penalty .
+
+A dangerous law against gentility !
+
+Item . If any man be seen to talk with a woman within the term of three years , he shall endure such public shame as the rest of the court can possibly devise .
+This article , my liege , yourself must break ;
+For well you know here comes in embassy
+The French king's daughter with yourself to speak
+A maid of grace and complete majesty
+About surrender up of Aquitaine
+To her decrepit , sick , and bed-rid father :
+Therefore this article is made in vain ,
+Or vainly comes th' admired princess hither .
+
+What say you , lords ? why , this was quite forgot .
+
+So study evermore is overshot :
+While it doth study to have what it would ,
+It doth forget to do the thing it should ;
+And when it hath the thing it hunteth most ,
+'Tis won as towns with fire ; so won , so lost .
+
+We must of force dispense with this decree ;
+She must lie here on mere necessity .
+
+Necessity will make us all forsworn
+Three thousand times within this three years' space ;
+For every man with his affects is born ,
+Not by might master'd , but by special grace .
+If I break faith this word shall speak for me ,
+I am forsworn 'on mere necessity .'
+So to the laws at large I write my name :
+
+And he that breaks them in the least degree
+Stands in attainder of eternal shame :
+Suggestions are to others as to me ;
+But I believe , although I seem so loath ,
+I am the last that will last keep his oath .
+But is there no quick recreation granted ?
+
+Ay , that there is . Our court , you know , is haunted
+With a refined traveller of Spain ;
+A man in all the world's new fashion planted ,
+That hath a mint of phrases in his brain ;
+One whom the music of his own vain tongue
+Doth ravish like enchanting harmony ;
+A man of complements , whom right and wrong
+Have chose as umpire of their mutiny :
+This child of fancy , that Armado hight ,
+For interim to our studies shall relate
+In high-born words the worth of many a knight
+From tawny Spain lost in the world's debate .
+How you delight , my lords , I know not , I ;
+But , I protest , I love to hear him lie ,
+And I will use him for my minstrelsy .
+
+Armado is a most illustrious wight ,
+A man of fire-new words , fashion's own knight .
+
+Costard the swain and he shall be our sport ;
+And , so to study , three years is but short .
+
+
+Which is the duke's own person ?
+
+This , fellow . What wouldst ?
+
+I myself reprehend his own person , for I am his Grace's tharborough : but I would see his own person in flesh and blood .
+
+This is he .
+
+Signior Arm Arm commends you . There's villany abroad : this letter will tell you more .
+
+Sir , the contempts thereof are as touching me .
+
+A letter from the magnificent Armado .
+
+How long soever the matter , I hope in God for high words .
+
+A high hope for a low heaven : God grant us patience !
+
+To hear , or forbear laughing ?
+
+To hear meekly , sir , and to laugh moderately ; or to forbear both .
+
+Well , sir , be it as the style shall give us cause to climb in the merriness .
+
+The matter is to me , sir , as concerning Jaquenetta . The manner of it is , I was taken with the manner .
+
+In what manner ?
+
+In manner and form following , sir ; all those three : I was seen with her in the manor-house , sitting with her upon the form , and taken following her into the park ; which , put together , is , in manner and form following . Now , sir , for the manner ,it is the manner of a man to speak to a woman , for the form ,in some form .
+
+For the following , sir ?
+
+As it shall follow in my correction ; and God defend the right !
+
+Will you hear this letter with attention ?
+
+As we would hear an oracle .
+
+Such is the simplicity of man to hearken after the flesh .
+
+Great deputy , the welkin's vicegerent , and sole dominator of Navarre , my soul's earth's God , and body's fostering patron ,
+
+Not a word of Costard yet .
+
+So it is ,
+
+It may be so ; but if he say it is so , he is , in telling true , but so .
+
+Peace !
+
+Be to me and every man that dares not fight .
+
+No words !
+
+Of other men's secrets , I beseech you .
+
+So it is , besieged with sable-coloured melancholy , I did commend the black-oppressing humour to the most wholesome physic of thy health-giving air ; and , as I am a gentleman , betook myself to walk . The time when ? About the sixth hour ; when beasts most graze , birds best peck , and men sit down to that nourishment which is called supper : so much for the time when . Now for the ground which ; which , I mean , I walked upon : it is ycleped thy park . Then for the place where ; where , I mean , I did encounter that most obscene and preposterous event , that draweth from my snow-white pen the ebon-coloured ink , which here thou viewest , beholdest , surveyest , or seest . But to the place where , it standeth north-north-east and by east from the west corner of thy curious-knotted garden : there did I see that low-spirited swain , that base minnow of thy mirth ,
+
+Me .
+
+that unlettered small-knowing soul ,
+
+Me .
+
+that shallow vessel ,
+
+Still me .
+
+which , as I remember , hight Costard ,
+
+O me .
+
+sorted and consorted , contrary to thy established proclaimed edict and continent canon , with with ,O ! with but with this I passion to say wherewith ,
+
+With a wench .
+
+with a child of our grandmother Eve , a female ; or , for thy more sweet understanding , a woman . Him , I ,as my everesteemed duty pricks me on ,have sent to thee , to receive the meed of punishment , by thy sweet Grace's officer , Antony Dull ; a man of good repute , carriage , bearing , and estimation .
+
+Me , an't please you ; I am Antony Dull .
+
+For Jaquenetta ,so is the weaker vessel called which I apprehended with the aforesaid swain ,I keep her as a vessel of thy law's fury ; and shall , at the least of thy sweet notice , bring her to trial . Thine , in all compliments of devoted and heart-burning heat of duty ,
+
+This is not so well as I looked for , but the best that ever I heard .
+
+Ay , the best for the worst . But , sirrah , what say you to this ?
+
+Sir , I confess the wench .
+
+Did you hear the proclamation ?
+
+I do confess much of the hearing it , but little of the marking of it .
+
+It was proclaimed a year's imprisonment to be taken with a wench .
+
+I was taken with none , sir : I was taken with a damosel .
+
+Well , it was proclaimed 'damosel .'
+
+This was no damosel neither , sir : she was a 'virgin .'
+
+It is so varied too ; for it was proclaimed 'virgin .'
+
+If it were , I deny her virginity : I was taken with a maid .
+
+This maid will not serve your turn , sir .
+
+This maid will serve my turn , sir .
+
+Sir , I will pronounce your sentence : you shall fast a week with bran and water .
+
+I had rather pray a month with mutton and porridge .
+
+And Don Armado shall be your keeper .
+My Lord Berowne , see him deliver'd o'er :
+And go we , lords , to put in practice that
+Which each to other hath so strongly sworn .
+
+
+I'll lay my head to any good man's hat ,
+These oaths and laws will prove an idle scorn .
+Sirrah , come on .
+
+I suffer for the truth , sir : for true it is I was taken with Jaquenetta , and Jaquenetta is a true girl ; and therefore welcome the sour cup of prosperity ! Affliction may one day smile again ; and till then , sit thee down , sorrow !
+
+
+Boy , what sign is it when a man of great spirit grows melancholy ?
+
+A great sign , sir , that he will look sad .
+
+Why , sadness is one and the self-same thing , dear imp .
+
+No , no ; O Lord , sir , no .
+
+How canst thou part sadness and melancholy , my tender juvenal ?
+
+By a familiar demonstration of the working , my tough senior .
+
+Why tough senior ? why tough senior ?
+
+Why tender juvenal ? why tender juvenal ?
+
+I spoke it , tender juvenal , as a congruent epitheton appertaining to thy young days , which we may nominate tender .
+
+And I , tough senior , as an appertinent title to your old time , which we may name tough .
+
+Pretty , and apt .
+
+How mean you , sir ? I pretty , and my saying apt ? or I apt , and my saying pretty ?
+
+Thou pretty , because little .
+
+Little pretty , because little . Wherefore apt ?
+
+And therefore apt , because quick .
+
+Speak you this in my praise , master ?
+
+In thy condign praise .
+
+I will praise an eel with the same praise .
+
+What ! that an eel is ingenious ?
+
+That an eel is quick .
+
+I do say thou art quick in answers : thou heatest my blood .
+
+I am answered , sir .
+
+I love not to be crossed .
+
+He speaks the mere contrary : crosses love not him .
+
+I have promised to study three years with the duke .
+
+You may do it in an hour , sir .
+
+Impossible .
+
+How many is one thrice told ?
+
+I am ill at reckoning ; it fitteth the spirit of a tapster .
+
+You are a gentleman and a gamester , sir .
+
+I confess both : they are both the varnish of a complete man .
+
+Then , I am sure you know how much the gross sum of deuce-ace amounts to .
+
+It doth amount to one more than two .
+
+Which the base vulgar do call three .
+
+True .
+
+Why , sir , is this such a piece of study ? Now , here's three studied , ere you'll thrice wink ; and how easy it is to put 'years' to the word 'three ,' and study three years in two words , the dancing horse will tell you .
+
+A most fine figure !
+
+To prove you a cipher .
+
+I will hereupon confess I am in love ; and as it is base for a soldier to love , so am I in love with a base wench . If drawing my sword against the humour of affection would deliver me from the reprobate thought of it , I would take Desire prisoner , and ransom him to any French courtier for a new devised curtsy . I think scorn to sigh : methinks I should outswear Cupid . Comfort me , boy : what great men have been in love ?
+
+Hercules , master .
+
+Most sweet Hercules ! More authority , dear boy , name more ; and , sweet my child , let them be men of good repute and carriage .
+
+Samson , master : he was a man of good carriage , great carriage , for he carried the towngates on his back like a porter ; and he was in love .
+
+O well-knit Samson ! strong-jointed Samson ! I do excel thee in my rapier as much as thou didst me in carrying gates . I am in love too . Who was Samson's love , my dear Moth ?
+
+A woman , master .
+
+Of what complexion ?
+
+Of all the four , or the three , or the two , or one of the four .
+
+Tell me precisely of what complexion .
+
+Of the sea-water green , sir .
+
+Is that one of the four complexions ?
+
+As I have read , sir ; and the best of them too .
+
+Green indeed is the colour of lovers ; but to have a love of that colour , methinks Samson had small reason for it . He surely affected her for her wit .
+
+It was so , sir , for she had a green wit .
+
+My love is most immaculate white and red .
+
+Most maculate thoughts , master , are masked under such colours .
+
+Define , define , well-educated infant .
+
+My father's wit , and my mother's tongue , assist me !
+
+Sweet invocation of a child ; most pretty and pathetical !
+
+
+If she be made of white and red ,
+Her faults will ne'er be known ,
+For blushing cheeks by faults are bred ,
+And fears by pale white shown :
+Then if she fear , or be to blame ,
+By this you shall not know ,
+For still her cheeks possess the same
+Which native she doth owe .
+
+A dangerous rime , master , against the reason of white and red .
+
+Is there not a ballad , boy , of the King and the Beggar ?
+
+The world was very guilty of such a ballad some three ages since ; but I think now 'tis not to be found ; or , if it were , it would neither serve for the writing nor the tune .
+
+I will have that subject newly writ o'er , that I may example my digression by some mighty precedent . Boy , I do love that country girl that I took in the park with the rational hind Costard : she deserves well .
+
+To be whipped ; and yet a better love than my master .
+
+Sing , boy : my spirit grows heavy in love .
+
+And that's great marvel , loving a light wench .
+
+I say , sing .
+
+Forbear till this company be past .
+
+
+Sir , the duke's pleasure is , that you keep Costard safe : and you must let him take no delight nor no penance , but a' must fast three days a week . For this damsel , I must keep her at the park ; she is allowed for the day-woman .
+Fare you well .
+
+I do betray myself with blushing . Maid !
+
+Man ?
+
+I will visit thee at the lodge .
+
+That's hereby .
+
+I know where it is situate .
+
+Lord , how wise you are !
+
+I will tell thee wonders .
+
+With that face ?
+
+I love thee .
+
+So I heard you say .
+
+And so farewell .
+
+Fair weather after you !
+
+Come , Jaquenetta , away !
+
+
+Villain , thou shalt fast for thy offences ere thou be pardoned .
+
+Well , sir , I hope , when I do it , I shall do it on a full stomach .
+
+Thou shalt be heavily punished .
+
+I am more bound to you than your fellows , for they are but lightly rewarded .
+
+Take away this villain : shut him up .
+
+Come , you transgressing slave : away !
+
+Let me not be pent up , sir : I will fast , being loose .
+
+No , sir ; that were fast and loose : thou shalt to prison .
+
+Well , if ever I do see the merry days of desolation that I have seen , some shall see
+
+What shall some see ?
+
+Nay , nothing , Master Moth , but what they look upon . It is not for prisoners to be too silent in their words ; and therefore I will say nothing : I thank God I have as little patience as another man , and therefore I can be quiet .
+
+
+I do affect the very ground , which is base , where her shoe , which is baser , guided by her foot , which is basest , doth tread . I shall be forsworn ,which is a great argument of falsehood ,if I love . And how can that be true love which is falsely attempted ? Love is a familiar ; Love is a devil : there is no evil angel but Love . Yet was Samson so tempted , and he had an excellent strength ; yet was Solomon so seduced , and he had a very good wit . Cupid's butt-shaft is too hard for Hercules' club , and therefore too much odds for a Spaniard's rapier . The first and second clause will not serve my turn ; the passado he respects not , the duello he regards not : his disgrace is to be called boy , but his glory is , to subdue men . Adieu , valour ! rust , rapier ! be still , drum ! for your manager is in love ; yea , he loveth . Assist me some extemporal god of rime , for I am sure I shall turn sonneter . Devise , wit ; write , pen ; for I am for whole volumes in folio .
+
+Now , madam , summon up your dearest spirits :
+Consider whom the king your father sends ,
+To whom he sends , and what's his embassy :
+Yourself , held precious in the world's esteem ,
+To parley with the sole inheritor
+Of all perfections that a man may owe ,
+Matchless Navarre ; the plea of no less weight
+Than Aquitaine , a dowry for a queen .
+Be now as prodigal of all dear grace
+As Nature was in making graces dear
+When she did starve the general world beside ,
+And prodigally gave them all to you .
+
+Good Lord Boyet , my beauty , though but mean ,
+Needs not the painted flourish of your praise :
+Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye ,
+Not utter'd by base sale of chapmen's tongues .
+I am less proud to hear you tell my worth
+Than you much willing to be counted wise
+In spending your wit in the praise of mine .
+But now to task the tasker : good Boyet ,
+You are not ignorant , all-telling fame
+Doth noise abroad , Navarre hath made a vow ,
+Till painful study shall out-wear three years ,
+No woman may approach his silent court :
+Therefore to us seemth it a needful course ,
+Before we enter his forbidden gates ,
+To know his pleasure ; and in that behalf ,
+Bold of your worthiness , we single you
+As our best-moving fair solicitor .
+Tell him , the daughter of the King of France ,
+On serious business , craving quick dispatch ,
+Importunes personal conference with his Grace .
+Haste , signify so much ; while we attend ,
+Like humble-visag'd suitors , his high will .
+
+Proud of employment , willingly I go .
+
+All pride is willing pride , and yours is so .
+
+Who are the votaries , my loving lords ,
+That are vow-fellows with this virtuous duke ?
+
+Lord Longaville is one .
+
+Know you the man ?
+
+I know him , madam : at a marriage feast ,
+Between Lord Perigort and the beauteous heir
+Of Jacques Falconbridge , solemnized
+In Normandy , saw I this Longaville .
+A man of sovereign parts he is esteem'd ;
+Well fitted in the arts , glorious in arms :
+Nothing becomes him ill that he would well .
+The only soil of his fair virtue's gloss ,
+If virtue's gloss will stain with any soil ,
+Is a sharp wit match'd with too blunt a will ;
+Whose edge hath power to cut , whose will still wills
+It should none spare that come within his power .
+
+Some merry mocking lord , belike ; is't so ?
+
+They say so most that most his humours know .
+
+Such short-liv'd wits do wither as they grow .
+Who are the rest ?
+
+The young Dumaine , a well-accomplish'd youth ,
+Of all that virtue love for virtue lov'd :
+Most power to do most harm , least knowing ill ,
+For he hath wit to make an ill shape good ,
+And shape to win grace though he had no wit .
+I saw him at the Duke Alen on's once ;
+And much too little of that good I saw
+Is my report to his great worthiness .
+
+Another of these students at that time
+Was there with him , if I have heard a truth :
+Berowne they call him ; but a merrier man ,
+Within the limit of becoming mirth ,
+I never spent an hour's talk withal .
+His eye begets occasion for his wit ;
+For every object that the one doth catch
+The other turns to a mirth-moving jest ,
+Which his fair tongue , conceit's expositor ,
+Delivers in such apt and gracious words ,
+That aged ears play truant at his tales ,
+And younger hearings are quite ravished ;
+So sweet and voluble is his discourse .
+
+God bless my ladies ! are they all in love ,
+That every one her own hath garnished
+With such bedecking ornaments of praise ?
+
+Here comes Boyet .
+
+
+Now , what admittance , lord ?
+
+Navarre had notice of your fair approach ;
+And he and his competitors in oath
+Were all address'd to meet you , gentle lady ,
+Before I came . Marry , thus much I have learnt ;
+He rather means to lodge you in the field ,
+Like one that comes here to besiege his court ,
+Than seek a dispensation for his oath ,
+To let you enter his unpeeled house .
+Here comes Navarre .
+
+Fair princess , welcome to the court of Navarre .
+
+'Fair ,' I give you back again ; and 'welcome' I have not yet : the roof of this court is too high to be yours , and welcome to the wide fields too base to be mine .
+
+You shall be welcome , madam , to my court .
+
+I will be welcome , then : conduct me thither .
+
+Hear me , dear lady ; I have sworn an oath .
+
+Our Lady help my lord ! he'll be forsworn .
+
+Not for the world , fair madam , by my will .
+
+Why , will shall break it ; will , and nothing else .
+
+Your ladyship is ignorant what it is .
+
+Were my lord so , his ignorance were wise ,
+Where now his knowledge must prove ignorance .
+I hear your grace hath sworn out house-keeping :
+'Tis deadly sin to keep that oath , my lord ,
+And sin to break it .
+But pardon me , I am too sudden-bold :
+To teach a teacher ill beseemeth me .
+Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my coming ,
+And suddenly resolve me in my suit .
+
+
+Madam , I will , if suddenly I may .
+
+You will the sooner that I were away ,
+For you'll prove perjur'd if you make me stay .
+
+Did not I dance with you in Brabant once ?
+
+Did not I dance with you in Brabant once ?
+
+I know you did .
+
+How needless was it then
+To ask the question !
+
+You must not be so quick .
+
+'Tis 'long of you that spur me with such questions .
+
+Your wit's too hot , it speeds too fast , 'twill tire .
+
+Not till it leave the rider in the mire .
+
+What time o' day ?
+
+The hour that fools should ask .
+
+Now fair befall your mask !
+
+Fair fall the face it covers !
+
+And send you many lovers !
+
+Amen , so you be none .
+
+Nay , then I will be gone .
+
+Madam , your father here doth intimate
+The payment of a hundred thousand crowns ;
+Being but the one half of an entire sum
+Disbursed by my father in his wars .
+But say that he , or we ,as neither have ,
+Receiv'd that sum , yet there remains unpaid
+A hundred thousand more ; in surety of the which ,
+One part of Aquitaine is bound to us ,
+Although not valu'd to the money's worth .
+If then the king your father will restore
+But that one half which is unsatisfied ,
+We will give up our right in Aquitaine ,
+And hold fair friendship with his majesty .
+But that it seems , he little purposeth ,
+For here he doth demand to have repaid
+A hundred thousand crowns ; and not demands ,
+On payment of a hundred thousand crowns ,
+To have his title live in Aquitaine ;
+Which we much rather had depart withal ,
+And have the money by our father lent ,
+Than Aquitaine , so gelded as it is .
+Dear princess , were not his requests so far
+From reason's yielding , your fair self should make
+A yielding 'gainst some reason in my breast ,
+And go well satisfied to France again .
+
+You do the king my father too much wrong
+And wrong the reputation of your name ,
+In so unseeming to confess receipt
+Of that which hath so faithfully been paid .
+
+I do protest I never heard of it ;
+And if you prove it , I'll repay it back
+Or yield up Aquitaine .
+
+We arrest your word .
+Boyet , you can produce acquittances
+For such a sum from special officers
+Of Charles his father .
+
+Satisfy me so .
+
+So please your Grace , the packet is not come
+Where that and other specialties are bound :
+To-morrow you shall have a sight of them .
+
+It shall suffice me : at which interview
+All liberal reason I will yield unto .
+Meantime , receive such welcome at my hand
+As honour , without breach of honour , may
+Make tender of to thy true worthiness .
+You may not come , fair princess , in my gates ;
+But here without you shall be so receiv'd ,
+As you shall deem yourself lodg'd in my heart ,
+Though so denied fair harbour in my house .
+Your own good thoughts excuse me , and farewell :
+To-morrow shall we visit you again .
+
+Sweet health and fair desires consort your Grace !
+
+Thy own wish wish I thee in every place !
+
+
+Lady , I will commend you to mine own heart .
+
+Pray you , do my commendations ; I would be glad to see it .
+
+I would you heard it groan .
+
+Is the fool sick ?
+
+Sick at the heart .
+
+Alack ! let it blood .
+
+Would that do it good ?
+
+My physic says , 'ay .'
+
+Will you prick't with your eye ?
+
+No point , with my knife .
+
+Now , God save thy life !
+
+And yours from long living !
+
+I cannot stay thanksgiving .
+
+
+Sir , I pray you , a word : what lady is that same ?
+
+The heir of Alen on , Katharine her name .
+
+A gallant lady . Monsieur , fare you well .
+
+
+I beseech you a word : what is she in the white ?
+
+A woman sometimes , an you saw her in the light .
+
+Perchance light in the light . I desire her name .
+
+She hath but one for herself ; to desire that , were a shame .
+
+Pray you , sir , whose daughter ?
+
+Her mother's , I have heard .
+
+God's blessing on your beard !
+
+Good sir , be not offended .
+She is an heir of Falconbridge .
+
+Nay , my choler is ended .
+She is a most sweet lady .
+
+Not unlike , sir ; that may be .
+
+
+What's her name , in the cap ?
+
+Rosaline , by good hap .
+
+Is she wedded or no ?
+
+To her will , sir , or so .
+
+You are welcome , sir . Adieu .
+
+Farewell to me , sir , and welcome to you .
+
+
+That last is Berowne , the merry mad-cap lord :
+Not a word with him but a jest .
+
+And every jest but a word .
+
+It was well done of you to take him at his word .
+
+I was as willing to grapple , as he was to board .
+
+Two hot sheeps , marry !
+
+And wherefore not ships ?
+No sheep , sweet lamb , unless we feed on your lips .
+
+You sheep , and I pasture : shall that finish the jest ?
+
+So you grant pasture for me .
+
+
+Not so , gentle beast .
+My lips are no common , though several they be .
+
+Belonging to whom ?
+
+To my fortunes and me .
+
+Good wits will be jangling ; but , gentles , agree .
+This civil war of wits were much better us'd
+On Navarre and his book-men , for here 'tis abus'd .
+
+If my observation ,which very seldom lies ,
+By the heart's still rhetoric disclosed with eyes ,
+Deceive me not now , Navarre is infected .
+
+With what ?
+
+With that which we lovers entitle affected .
+
+Your reason .
+
+Why , all his behaviours did make their retire
+To the court of his eye , peeping thorough desire ;
+His heart , like an agate , with your print impress'd ,
+Proud with his form , in his eye pride express'd :
+His tongue , all impatient to speak and not see ,
+Did stumble with haste in his eyesight to be ;
+All senses to that sense did make their repair ,
+To feel only looking on fairest of fair ,
+Methought all his senses were lock'd in his eye ,
+As jewels in crystal for some prince to buy ;
+Who , tend'ring their own worth from where they were glass'd ,
+Did point you to buy them , along as you pass'd .
+His face's own margent did quote such amazes ,
+That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes .
+I'll give you Aquitaine , and all that is his ,
+An' you give him for my sake but one loving kiss .
+
+Come to our pavilion : Boyet is dispos'd .
+
+But to speak that in words which his eye hath disclos'd .
+I only have made a mouth of his eye ,
+By adding a tongue which I know will not he .
+
+Thou art an old love-monger , and speak'st skilfully .
+
+He is Cupid's grandfather and learns news of him .
+
+Then was Venus like her mother , for her father is but grim .
+
+Do you hear , my mad wenches ?
+
+No .
+
+What , then , do you see ?
+
+Ay , our way to be gone .
+
+You are too hard for me .
+
+Warble , child ; make passionate my sense of hearing .
+
+Concolinel ,
+
+Sweet air ! Go , tenderness of years ; take this key , give enlargement to the swain , bring him festinately hither ; I must employ him in a letter to my love .
+
+Master , will you win your love with a French brawl ?
+
+How meanest thou ? brawling in French ?
+
+No , my complete master ; but to jig off a tune at the tongue's end , canary to it with your feet , humour it with turning up your eyelids , sigh a note and sing a note , sometime through the throat , as if you swallowed love by singing love , sometime through the nose , as if you snuffed up love by smelling love ; with your hat penthouse-like o'er the shop of your eyes ; with your arms crossed on your thin belly-doublet like a rabbit on a spit ; or your hands in your pocket like a man after the old painting ; and keep not too long in one tune , but a snip and away . These are complements , these are humours , these betray nice wenches , that would be betrayed without these ; and make them men of note ,do you note me ?that most are affected to these .
+
+How hast thou purchased this experience ?
+
+By my penny of observation .
+
+But O but O ,
+
+'The hobby-horse is forgot .'
+
+Callest thou my love 'hobby-horse ?'
+
+No , master ; the hobby-horse is but a colt , and your love perhaps , a hackney . But have you forgot your love ?
+
+Almost I had .
+
+Negligent student ! learn her by heart .
+
+By heart , and in heart , boy .
+
+And out of heart , master : all those three I will prove .
+
+What wilt thou prove ?
+
+A man , if I live ; and this , by , in , and without , upon the instant : by heart you love her , because your heart cannot come by her ; in heart you love her , because your heart is in love with her ; and out of heart you love her , being out of heart that you cannot enjoy her .
+
+I am all these three .
+
+And three times as much more , and yet nothing at all .
+
+Fetch hither the swain : he must carry me a letter .
+
+A message well sympathized : a horse to be ambassador for an ass .
+
+Ha , ha ! what sayest thou ?
+
+Marry , sir , you must send the ass upon the horse , for he is very slow-gaited . But I go .
+
+The way is but short : away !
+
+As swift as lead , sir .
+
+Thy meaning , pretty ingenious ?
+Is not lead a metal heavy , dull , and slow ?
+
+Minime , honest master ; or rather , master , no .
+
+I say , lead is slow .
+
+You are too swift , sir , to say so :
+Is that lead slow which is fir'd from a gun ?
+
+Sweet smoke of rhetoric !
+He reputes me a cannon ; and the bullet , that's he :
+I shoot thee at the swain .
+
+Thump then , and I flee .
+
+
+A most acute juvenal ; volable and free of grace !
+By thy favour , sweet welkin , I must sigh in thy face :
+Most rude melancholy , valour gives thee place .
+My herald is return'd .
+
+
+A wonder , master ! here's a costard broken in a shin .
+
+Some enigma , some riddle : come , thy l'envoy ; begin .
+
+No egma , no riddle , no l'envoy ; no salve in the mail , sir . O ! sir , plantain , a plain plantain : no l'envoy , no l'envoy : no salve , sir , but a plantain .
+
+By virtue , thou enforcest laughter ; thy silly thought , my spleen ; the heaving of my lungs provokes me to ridiculous smiling : O ! pardon me , my stars . Doth the inconsiderate take salve for l'envoy , and the word l'envoy for a salve ?
+
+Do the wise think them other ? is not l'envoy a salve ?
+
+No , page : it is an epilogue or discourse , to make plain
+Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain .
+I will example it :
+
+The fox , the ape , and the humble-bee
+Were still at odds , being but three .
+
+There's the moral . Now the l'envoy .
+
+I will add the l'envoy . Say the moral again .
+
+
+The fox , the ape , and the humble-bee ,
+Were still at odds , being but three .
+
+Until the goose came out of door ,
+And stay'd the odds by adding four .
+
+Now will I begin your moral , and do you follow with my l'envoy .
+
+The fox , the ape , and the humble-bee ,
+Were still at odds , being but three .
+
+Until the goose came out of door ,
+Staying the odds by adding four .
+
+
+A good l'envoy , ending in the goose .
+Would you desire more ?
+
+The boy hath sold him a bargain , a goose , that's flat .
+Sir , your pennyworth is good an your goose be fat .
+To sell a bargain well is as cunning as fast and loose :
+Let me see ; a fat l'envoy ; ay , that's a fat goose .
+
+Come hither , come hither . How did this argument begin ?
+
+By saying that a costard was broken in a shin .
+Then call'd you for the l'envoy .
+
+True , and I for a plantain : thus came your argument in ;
+Then the boy's fat l'envoy , the goose that you bought ;
+And he ended the market .
+
+But tell me ; how was there a costard broken in a shin ?
+
+I will tell you sensibly .
+
+Thou hast no feeling of it , Moth : I will speak that l'envoy :
+I , Costard , running out , that was safely within ,
+Fell over the threshold and broke my shin .
+
+We will talk no more of this matter .
+
+Till there be more matter in the shin .
+
+Sirrah Costard , I will enfranchise thee .
+
+O ! marry me to one Frances : I smell some l'envoy , some goose , in this .
+
+By my sweet soul , I mean setting thee at liberty , enfreedoming thy person : thou wert immured , restrained , captivated , bound .
+
+True , true , and now you will be my purgation and let me loose .
+
+I give thee thy liberty , set thee from durance ; and in lieu thereof , impose upon thee nothing but this :
+
+Bear this significant to the country maid Jaquenetta . [Giving money .] There is remuneration ; for the best ward of mine honour is rewarding my dependents . Moth , follow .
+
+
+Like the sequel , I . Signior Costard , adieu .
+
+My sweet ounce of man's flesh ! my incony Jew !
+
+Now will I look to his remuneration . Remuneration ! O ! that's the Latin word for three farthings : three farthings , remuneration . 'What's the price of this inkle ?' 'One penny .' 'No , I'll give you a remuneration :' why , it carries it Remuneration ! why , it is a fairer name than French crown . I will never buy and sell out of this word .
+
+
+O ! my good knave Costard , exceedingly well met .
+
+Pray you , sir , how much carnation riband may a man buy for a remuneration ?
+
+What is a remuneration ?
+
+Marry , sir , halfpenny farthing .
+
+Why then , three-farthing-worth of silk .
+
+I thank your worship . God be wi' you !
+
+Stay , slave ; I must employ thee :
+As thou wilt win my favour , good my knave ,
+Do one thing for me that I shall entreat .
+
+When would you have it done , sir ?
+
+O , this afternoon .
+
+Well , I will do it , sir ! fare you well .
+
+O , thou knowest not what it is .
+
+I shall know , sir , when I have done it .
+
+Why , villain , thou must know first .
+
+I will come to your worship to-morrow morning .
+
+It must be done this afternoon . Hark , slave , it is but this :
+The princess comes to hunt here in the park ,
+And in her train there is a gentle lady :
+When tongues speak sweetly , then they name her name ,
+And Rosaline they call her : ask for her
+And to her white hand see thou do commend
+This seal'd-up counsel .
+
+There's thy guerdon : go .
+
+Gardon , O sweet gardon ! better than remuneration ; a 'leven-pence farthing better .
+Most sweet gardon ! I will do it , sir , in print
+Gardon ! remuneration !
+
+
+And I ,
+Forsooth , in love ! I , that have been love's whip ;
+A very beadle to a humorous sigh ;
+A critic , nay , a night-watch constable ,
+A domineering pedant o'er the boy ,
+Than whom no mortal so magnificent !
+This wimpled , whining , purblind , wayward boy ,
+This senior-junior , giant-dwarf , Dan Cupid ;
+Regent of love-rimes , lord of folded arms ,
+The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans ,
+Liege of all loiterers and malecontents ,
+Dread prince of plackets , king of codpieces ,
+Sole imperator and great general
+Of trotting 'paritors : O my little heart !
+And I to be a corporal of his field ,
+And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop !
+What I ! I love ! I sue ! I seek a wife !
+A woman that is like a German clock ,
+Still a-repairing , ever out of frame ,
+And never going aright , being a watch ,
+But being watch'd that it may still go right !
+Nay , to be perjur'd , which is worst of all ;
+And , among three , to love the worst of all ;
+A wightly wanton with a velvet brow ,
+With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes ;
+Ay , and , by heaven , one that will do the deed
+Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard :
+And I to sigh for her ! to watch for her !
+To pray for her ! Go to ; it is a plague
+That Cupid will impose for my neglect
+Of his almighty dreadful little might .
+Well , I will love , write , sigh , pray , sue , and groan :
+Some men must love my lady , and some Joan .
+
+Was that the king , that spurr'd his horse so hard
+Against the steep uprising of the hill ?
+
+I know not ; but I think it was not he .
+
+Whoe'er a' was , a' show'd a mounting mind .
+Well , lords , to-day we shall have our dispatch ;
+On Saturday we will return to France .
+Then , forester , my friend , where is the bush
+That we must stand and play the murderer in ?
+
+Hereby , upon the edge of yonder coppice ;
+A stand where you may make the fairest shoot .
+
+I thank my beauty , I am fair that shoot ,
+And thereupon thou speak'st the fairest shoot .
+
+Pardon me , madam , for I meant not so .
+
+What , what ? first praise me , and again say no ?
+O short-liv'd pride ! Not fair ? alack for woe !
+
+Yes , madam , fair .
+
+Nay , never paint me now :
+Where fair is not , praise cannot mend the brow .
+Here , good my glass :
+
+Take this for telling true :
+Fair payment for foul words is more than due .
+
+Nothing but fair is that which you inherit .
+
+See , see ! my beauty will be sav'd by merit .
+O heresy in fair , fit for these days !
+A giving hand , though foul , shall have fair praise .
+But come , the bow : now mercy goes to kill ,
+And shooting well is then accounted ill .
+Thus will I save my credit in the shoot :
+Not wounding , pity would not let me do't ;
+If wounding , then it was to show my skill ,
+That more for praise than purpose meant to kill .
+And out of question so it is sometimes ,
+Glory grows guilty of detested crimes ,
+When , for fame's sake , for praise , an outward part ,
+We bend to that the working of the heart ;
+As I for praise alone now seek to spill
+The poor deer's blood , that my heart means no ill .
+
+Do not curst wives hold that self-sovereignty
+Only for praise' sake , when they strive to be
+Lords o'er their lords ?
+
+Only for praise ; and praise we may afford
+To any lady that subdues a lord .
+
+
+Here comes a member of the commonwealth .
+
+God dig-you-den all ! Pray you , which is the head lady ?
+
+Thou shalt know her , fellow , by the rest that have no heads .
+
+Which is the greatest lady , the highest ?
+
+The thickest , and the tallest .
+
+The thickest , and the tallest ! it is so ; truth is truth .
+An your waist , mistress , were as slender as my wit ,
+One o'these maids' girdles for your waist should be fit .
+Are not you the chief woman ? you are the thickest here .
+
+What's your will , sir ? what's your will ?
+
+I have a letter from Monsieur Berowne to one Lady Rosaline .
+
+O ! thy letter , thy letter ; he's a good friend of mine .
+Stand aside , good bearer . Boyet , you can carve ;
+Break up this capon .
+
+I am bound to serve .
+This letter is mistook ; it importeth none here :
+It is writ to Jaquenetta .
+
+We will read it , I swear .
+Break the neck of the wax , and every one give ear .
+
+By heaven , that thou art fair , is most infallible ; true , that thou art beauteous ; truth itself , that thou art lovely . More fairer than fair , beautiful than beauteous , truer than truth itself , have commiseration on thy heroical vassal ! The magnanimous and most illustrate king Cophetua set eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenelophon , and he it was that might rightly say veni , vidi , vici ; which to anatomize in the vulgar O base and obscure vulgar !videlicet , he came , saw , and overcame : he came , one ; saw , two ; overcame , three . Who came ? the king : Why did he come ? to see : Why did he see ? to overcome : To whom came he ? to the beggar : What saw he ? the beggar . Whom overcame he ? the beggar . The conclusion is victory : on whose side ? the king's ; the captive is enriched : on whose side ? the beggar's . The catastrophe is a nuptial : on whose side ? the king's , no , on both in one , or one in both . I am the king , for so stands the comparison ; thou the beggar , for so witnesseth thy lowliness . Shall I command thy love ? I may : Shall I enforce thy love ? I could : Shall I entreat thy love ? I will . What shalt thou exchange for rags ? robes ; for tittles ? titles ; for thyself ? me . Thus , expecting thy reply , I profane my lips on thy foot , my eyes on thy picture , and my heart on thy every part .
+Thine , in the dearest design of Industry , DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO .
+Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar
+'Gainst thee , thou lamb , that standest as his prey :
+Submissive fall his princely feet before ,
+And he from forage will incline to play .
+But if thou strive , poor soul , what art thou then ?
+Food for his rage , repasture for his den .
+
+What plume of feathers is he that indited this letter ?
+What vane ? what weathercock ? did you ever hear better ?
+
+I am much deceiv'd but I remember the style .
+
+Else your memory is bad , going o'er it erewhile .
+
+This Armado is a Spaniard , that keeps here in court ;
+A phantasime , a Monarcho , and one that makes sport
+To the prince and his book-mates .
+
+Thou , fellow , a word .
+Who gave thee this letter ?
+
+I told you ; my lord .
+
+To whom shouldst thou give it ?
+
+From my lord to my lady .
+
+From which lord , to which lady ?
+
+From my lord Berowne , a good master of mine ,
+To a lady of France , that he call'd Rosaline .
+
+Thou hast mistaken his letter . Come , lords , away .
+Here , sweet , put up this : 'twill be thine another day .
+
+
+Who is the suitor ? who is the suitor ?
+
+Shall I teach you to know ?
+
+Ay , my continent of beauty .
+
+Why , she that bears the bow .
+Finely put off !
+
+My lady goes to kill horns ; but , if thou marry ,
+Hang me by the neck if horns that year miscarry .
+Finely put on !
+
+Well then , I am the shooter .
+
+And who is your deer ?
+
+If we choose by the horns , yourself : come not near .
+Finely put on , indeed !
+
+You still wrangle with her , Boyet , and she strikes at the brow .
+
+But she herself is hit lower : have I hit her now ?
+
+Shall I come upon thee with an old saying , that was a man when King Pepin of France was a little boy , as touching the hit it ?
+
+So may I answer thee with one as old , that was a woman when Queen Guinever of Britain was a little wench , as touching the hit it .
+
+
+Thou canst not hit it , hit it , hit it ,
+Thou canst not hit it , my good man .
+
+An I cannot , cannot , cannot ,
+An I cannot , another can .
+
+By my troth , most pleasant : how both did fit it !
+
+A mark marvellous well shot , for they both did hit it .
+
+A mark ! O ! mark but that mark ; a mark , says my lady !
+Let the mark have a prick in't , to mete at , if it may be .
+
+Wide o' the bow hand ! i' faith your hand is out .
+
+Indeed a' must shoot nearer , or he'll ne'er hit the clout .
+
+An' if my hand be out , then belike your hand is in .
+
+Then will she get the upshoot by cleaving the pin .
+
+Come , come , you talk greasily ; your lips grow foul .
+
+She's too hard for you at pricks , sir : challenge her to bowl .
+
+I fear too much rubbing . Good night , my good owl .
+
+
+By my soul , a swain ! a most simple clown !
+Lord , lord how the ladies and I have put him down !
+O' my troth , most sweet jests ! most incony vulgar wit !
+When it comes so smoothly off , so obscenely , as it were , so fit ,
+Armado , o' the one side , O ! a most dainty man .
+To see him walk before a lady , and to bear her fan !
+To see him kiss his hand ! and how most sweetly a' will swear !
+And his page o' t'other side , that handful of wit !
+Ah ! heavens , it is a most pathetical nit .
+
+
+Sola , sola !
+
+
+Very reverend sport , truly : and done in the testimony of a good conscience .
+
+The deer was , as you know , sanguis , in blood ; ripe as a pomewater , who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of c lo , the sky , the welkin , the heaven ; and anon falleth like a crab on the face of terra , the soil , the land , the earth .
+
+Truly , Master Holofernes , the epithets are sweetly varied , like a scholar at the least : but , sir , I assure ye , it was a buck of the first head .
+
+Sir Nathaniel , haud credo .
+
+'Twas not a haud credo ; 'twas a pricket .
+
+Most barbarous intimation ! yet a kind of insinuation , as it were , in via , in way , of explication ; facere , as it were , replication , or , rather , ostentare , to show , as it were , his inclination ,after his undressed , unpolished , uneducated , unpruned , untrained , or , rather , unlettered , or , ratherest , unconfirmed fashion ,to insert again my haud credo for a deer .
+
+I said the deer was not a haud credo ; 'twas a pricket .
+
+Twice sod simplicity , bis coctus !
+O ! thou monster Ignorance , how deformed dost thou look !
+
+Sir , he hath not fed of the dainties that are bred of a book ;
+he hath not eat paper , as it were ; he hath not drunk ink : his intellect is not replenished ; he is only an animal , only sensible in the duller parts :
+And such barren plants are set before us , that we thankful should be ,
+Which we of taste and feeling are , for those parts that do fructify in us more than he ;
+For as it would ill become me to be vain , indiscreet , or a fool :
+So , were there a patch set on learning , to see him in a school :
+But , omne bene , say I ; being of an old Father's mind ,
+Many can brook the weather that love not the wind .
+
+You two are book-men : can you tell by your wit ,
+What was a month old at Cain's birth , that's not five weeks old as yet ?
+
+Dictynna , goodman Dull : Dictynna , goodman Dull .
+
+What is Dictynna ?
+
+A title to Ph be , to Luna , to the moon .
+
+The moon was a month old when Adam was no more ;
+And raught not to five weeks when he came to five-score .
+The allusion holds in the exchange .
+
+'Tis true indeed : the collusion holds in the exchange .
+
+God comfort thy capacity ! I say , the allusion holds in the exchange .
+
+And I say the pollusion holds in the exchange , for the moon is never but a month old ; and I say beside that 'twas a pricket that the princess killed .
+
+Sir Nathaniel , will you hear an extemporal epitaph on the death of the deer ? and , to humour the ignorant , I have call'd the deer the princess killed , a pricket .
+
+Perge , good Master Holofernes , perge ; so it shall please you to abrogate scurrility .
+
+I will something affect the letter ; for it argues facility .
+
+The preyful princess pierc'd and prick'd a pretty pleasing pricket ;
+Some say a sore ; but not a sore , till now made sore with shooting .
+The dogs did yell ; put l to sore , then sorel jumps from thicket ;
+Or pricket , sore , or else sorel ; the people fall a hooting .
+If sore be sore , then l to sore makes fifty sores one sorel !
+Of one sore I a hundred make , by adding but one more l .
+
+
+A rare talent !
+
+If a talent be a claw , look how he claws him with a talent .
+
+This is a gift that I have , simple , simple ; a foolish extravagant spirit , full of forms , figures , shapes , objects , ideas , apprehensions , motions , revolutions : these are begot in the ventricle of memory , nourished in the womb of pia mater , and delivered upon the mellowing of occasion . But the gift is good in those in whom it is acute , and I am thankful for it .
+
+Sir , I praise the Lord for you , and so may my parishioners ; for their sons are well tutored by you , and their daughters profit very greatly under you : you are a good member of the commonwealth .
+
+Mehercle ! if their sons be ingenuous , they shall want no instruction ; if their daughters be capable , I will put it to them . But , vir sapit qui pauca loquitur . A soul feminine saluteth us .
+
+
+God give you good morrow , Master parson .
+
+Master parson , quasi pers-on . An if one should be pierced , which is the one ?
+
+Marry , Master schoolmaster , he that is likest to a hogshead .
+
+Piercing a hogshead ! a good lustre of conceit in a turf of earth ; fire enough for a flint , pearl enough for a swine : 'tis pretty ; it is well .
+
+Good Master parson
+
+be so good as read me this letter : it was given me by Costard , and sent me from Don Armado : I beseech you , read it .
+
+Fauste , precor gelida quando pecus omne sub umbra Ruminat , and so forth . Ah ! good old Mantuan . I may speak of thee as the traveller doth of Venice :
+
+Venetia , Venetia ,
+Chi non te vede , non te pretia .
+
+Old Mantuan ! old Mantuan ! Who understandeth thee not , loves thee not . Ut , re , sol , la , mi , fa . Under pardon , sir , what are the contents ? or , rather , as Horace says in his What , my soul , verses ?
+
+Ay , sir , and very learned .
+
+Let me hear a staff , a stanze , a verse : lege , domine .
+
+
+If love make me forsworn , how shall I swear to love ?
+Ah ! never faith could hold , if not to beauty vow'd ;
+Though to myself forsworn , to thee I'll faithful prove ;
+Those thoughts to me were oaks , to thee like osiers bow'd
+Study his bias leaves and makes his book thine eyes .
+Where all those pleasures live that art would comprehend :
+If knowledge be the mark , to know thee shall suffice
+Well learned is that tongue that well can thee commend ;
+All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder ;
+Which is to me some praise that I thy parts admire
+Thy eye Jove's lightning bears , thy voice his dreadful thunder ,
+Which , not to anger bent , is music and sweet fire .
+Celestial as thou art , O ! pardon love this wrong .
+That sings heaven's praise with such an earthly tongue !
+
+
+You find not the apostrophas , and so miss the accent : let me supervise the canzonet . Here are only numbers ratified ; but , for the elegancy , facility , and golden cadence of poesy , caret . Ovidius Naso was the man : and why , indeed , Naso , but for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy , the jerks of invention ? Imitari is nothing ; so doth the hound his master , the ape his keeper , the 'tired horse his rider . But , damosella virgin , was this directed to you ?
+
+Ay , sir ; from one Monsieur Berowne , one of the strange queen's lords .
+
+I will overglance the superscript . To the snow-white hand of the most beauteous Lady Rosaline . I will look again on the intellect of the letter , for the nomination of the party writing to the person written unto : Your ladyship's , in all desired employment ,
+
+
+Good Costard , go with me . Sir , God save your life !
+
+Have with thee , my girl .
+
+
+Sir , you have done this in the fear of God , very religiously ; and , as a certain Father saith
+
+Sir , tell not me of the Father ; I do fear colourable colours . But to return to the verses : did they please you , Sir Nathaniel ?
+
+Marvellous well for the pen .
+
+I do dine to-day at the father's of a certain pupil of mine ; where , if before repast it shall please you to gratify the table with a grace , I will , on my privilege I have with the parents of the foresaid child or pupil , undertake your ben venuto ; where I will prove those verses to be very unlearned , neither savouring of poetry , wit , nor invention . I beseech your society .
+
+And thank you too ; for society saith the text is the happiness of life .
+
+And , certes , the text most infallibly concludes it .[To
+
+The king he is hunting the deer ; I am coursing myself : they have pitched a toil ; I am toiling in a pitch ,pitch that defiles : defile ! a foul word ! Well , sit thee down , sorrow ! for so they say the fool said , and so say I , and I the fool : well proved , wit ! By the Lord , this love is as mad as Ajax : it kills sheep : it kills me , I a sheep : well proved again o' my side ! I will not love ; if I do , hang me ; i' faith , I will not . O ! but her eye ,by this light , but for her eye , I would not love her ; yes , for her two eyes . Well , I do nothing in the world but lie , and lie in my throat . By heaven , I do love , and it hath taught me to rime , and to be melancholy ; and here is part of my rime , and here my melancholy . Well , she hath one o' my sonnets already : the clown bore it , the fool sent it , and the lady hath it : sweet clown , sweeter fool , sweetest lady ! By the world , I would not care a pin if the other three were in . Here comes one with a paper : God give him grace to groan !
+
+Ah me !
+
+Shot , by heaven ! Proceed , sweet Cupid : thou hast thumped him with thy bird-bolt under the left pap . In faith , secrets !
+
+
+So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not
+To those fresh morning drops upon the rose ,
+As thy eye-beams , when their fresh rays have smote
+The night of dew that on my cheeks down flows :
+Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright
+Through the transparent bosom of the deep ,
+As doth thy face through tears of mine give light ,
+Thou shin'st in every tear that I do weep .
+No drop but as a coach doth carry thee ;
+So ridest thou triumphing in my woe .
+Do but behold the tears that swell in me ,
+And they thy glory through my grief will show
+But do not love thyself , then thou wilt keep
+My tears for glasses , and still make me weep .
+O queen of queens ! how far thou dost excel ,
+No thought can think , nor tongue of mortal tell
+
+How shall she know my griefs ? I'll drop the paper :
+Sweet leaves , shade folly . Who is he comes here ?
+
+What , Longaville ! and reading ! listen , ear .
+
+
+Now , in thy likeness , one more fool appear !
+
+Ay me ! I am forsworn .
+
+Why , he comes in like a perjure , wearing papers .
+
+In love , I hope : sweet fellowship in shame !
+
+One drunkard loves another of the name .
+
+Am I the first that have been perjur'd so ?
+
+I could put thee in comfort : not by two that I know :
+Thou mak'st the triumviry , the corner-cap of society ,
+The shape of love's Tyburn , that hangs up simplicity .
+
+I fear these stubborn lines lack power to move .
+O sweet Maria , empress of my love !
+These numbers will I tear , and write in prose .
+
+O ! rimes are guards on wanton Cupid's hose :
+Disfigure not his slop .
+
+This same shall go .
+
+Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye ,
+'Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument ,
+Persuade my heart to this false perjury ?
+Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment .
+A woman I forswore ; but I will prove ,
+Thou being a goddess , I forswore not thee :
+My vow was earthly , thou a heavenly love ;
+Thy grace , being gain'd , cures all disgrace in me .
+Vows are but breath , and breath a vapour is :
+Then thou , fair sun , which on my earth dost shine ,
+Exhal'st this vapour-vow ; in thee it is :
+If broken , then , it is no fault of mine :
+If by me broke , what fool is not so wise
+To lose an oath to win a paradise !
+
+
+This is the liver-vein , which makes flesh a deity ;
+A green goose a goddess ; pure , pure idolatry .
+God amend us , God amend ! we are much out o' the way .
+
+By whom shall I send this ?Company ! stay .
+
+
+All hid , all hid ; an old infant play .
+Like a demi-god here sit I in the sky ,
+And wretched fools' secrets heedfully o'er-eye .
+More sacks to the mill ! O heavens ! I have my wish .
+
+Dumaine transform'd : four woodcocks in a dish !
+
+O most divine Kate !
+
+O most profane coxcomb !
+
+By heaven , the wonder of a mortal eye !
+
+By earth , she is but corporal ; there you lie .
+
+Her amber hairs for foul have amber quoted .
+
+An amber-colour'd raven was well noted .
+
+As upright as the cedar .
+
+Stoop , I say ;
+Her shoulder is with child .
+
+As fair as day .
+
+Ay , as some days ; but then no sun must shine .
+
+O ! that I had my wish .
+
+And I had mine !
+
+And I mine too , good Lord !
+
+Amen , so I had mine . Is not that a good word ?
+
+I would forget her ; but a fever she
+Reigns in my blood , and will remember'd be .
+
+A fever in your blood ! why , then incision
+Would let her out in saucers : sweet misprision !
+
+Once more I'll read the ode that I have writ .
+
+Once more I'll mark how love can vary wit .
+
+
+On a day , alack the day !
+Love , whose month is ever May ,
+Spied a blossom passing fair
+Playing in the wanton air :
+Through the velvet leaves the wind ,
+All unseen , 'gan passage find ;
+That the lover , sick to death ,
+Wish'd himself the heaven's breath .
+Air , quoth he , thy cheeks may blow ;
+Air , would I might triumph so !
+But alack ! my hand is sworn
+Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn :
+Vow , alack ! for youth unmeet ,
+Youth so apt to pluck a sweet .
+Do not call it sin in me ,
+That I am forsworn for thee ;
+Thou for whom e'en Jove would swear
+Juno but an Ethiop were ;
+And deny himself for Jove ,
+Turning mortal for thy love .
+
+This will I send , and something else more plain ,
+That shall express my true love's fasting pain .
+O ! would the King , Berowne , and Longaville
+Were lovers too . Ill , to example ill ,
+Would from my forehead wipe a perjur'd note ;
+For none offend where all alike do dote .
+
+Dumaine , thy love is far from charity ,
+That in love's grief desir'st society :
+You may look pale , but I should blush , I know ,
+To be o'erheard and taken napping so .
+
+Come , sir , you blush : as his your case is such ;
+You chide at him , offending twice as much :
+You do not love Maria ; Longaville
+Did never sonnet for her sake compile ,
+Nor never lay his wreathed arms athwart
+His loving bosom to keep down his heart .
+I have been closely shrouded in this bush ,
+And mark'd you both , and for you both did blush .
+I heard your guilty rimes , observ'd your fashion ,
+Saw sighs reek from you , noted well your passion :
+Ay me ! says one ; O Jove ! the other cries ;
+One , her hairs were gold , crystal the other's eyes :
+
+
+You would for paradise break faith and troth ;
+
+
+And Jove , for your love , would infringe an oath .
+What will Berowne say , when that he shall hear
+A faith infringed , which such zeal did swear ?
+How will he scorn ! how will he spend his wit !
+How will he triumph , leap and laugh at it !
+For all the wealth that ever I did see ,
+I would not have him know so much by me .
+
+Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy .
+
+Ah ! good my liege , I pray thee , pardon me :
+Good heart ! what grace hast thou , thus to reprove
+These worms for loving , that art most in love ?
+Your eyes do make no coaches ; in your tears
+There is no certain princess that appears :
+You'll not be perjur'd , 'tis a hateful thing :
+Tush ! none but minstrels like of sonneting .
+But are you not asham'd ? nay , are you not ,
+All three of you , to be thus much o'ershot ?
+You found his mote ; the king your mote did see ;
+But I a beam do find in each of three .
+O ! what a scene of foolery have I seen ,
+Of sighs , of groans , of sorrow , and of teen ;
+O me ! with what strict patience have I sat ,
+To see a king transformed to a gnat ;
+To see great Hercules whipping a gig ,
+And profound Solomon to tune a jig ,
+And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys ,
+And critic Timon laugh at idle toys !
+Where lies thy grief ? O ! tell me , good Dumaine ,
+And , gentle Longaville , where lies thy pain ?
+And where my liege's ? all about the breast :
+A caudle , ho !
+
+Too bitter is thy jest .
+Are we betray'd thus to thy over-view ?
+
+Not you to me , but I betray'd by you :
+I , that am honest ; I , that hold it sin
+To break the vow I am engaged in ;
+I am betray'd , by keeping company
+With men like men , men of inconstancy .
+When shall you see me write a thing in rime ?
+Or groan for Joan ? or spend a minute's time
+In pruning me ? When shall you hear that I
+Will praise a hand , a foot , a face , an eye ,
+A gait , a state , a brow , a breast , a waist , leg , a limb ?
+
+Soft ! Whither away so fast ? true man or a thief that gallops so ?
+
+I post from love ; good lover , let me go .
+
+
+God bless the king !
+
+What present hast thou there ?
+
+Some certain treason .
+
+What makes treason here ?
+
+Nay , it makes nothing , sir .
+
+If it mar nothing neither ,
+The treason and you go in peace away together .
+
+I beseech your Grace , let this letter be read :
+Our parson misdoubts it ; 'twas treason , he said .
+
+Berowne , read it over
+
+There hadst thou it ?
+
+Of Costard .
+
+Where hadst thou it ?
+
+Of Dun Adramadio , Dun Adramadio .
+
+
+How now ! what is in you ? why dost thou tear it ?
+
+A toy , my liege , a toy : your Grace needs not fear it .
+
+It did move him to passion , and therefore let's hear it .
+
+It is Berowne's writing , and here is his name .
+
+Ah , you whoreson logger-head , you were born to do me shame .
+Guilty , my lord , guilty ; I confess , I confess .
+
+What ?
+
+That you three fools lack'd me fool to make up the mess ;
+He , he , and you , and you my liege , and I ,
+Are pick-purses in love , and we deserve to die .
+O ! dismiss this audience , and I shall tell you more .
+
+Now the number is even .
+
+True , true ; we are four .
+Will these turtles be gone ?
+
+Hence , sirs ; away !
+
+Walk aside the true folk , and let the traitors stay .
+
+
+Sweet lords , sweet lovers , O ! let us embrace .
+As true we are as flesh and blood can be :
+The sea will ebb and flow , heaven show his face ;
+Young blood doth not obey an old decree :
+We cannot cross the cause why we were born ;
+Therefore , of all hands must we be forsworn .
+
+What ! did these rent lines show some love of thine ?
+
+'Did they ,' quoth you ? Who sees the heavenly Rosaline ,
+That , like a rude and savage man of Inde ,
+At the first opening of the gorgeous east ,
+Bows not his vassal head , and , strucken blind ,
+Kisses the base ground with obedient breast ?
+What peremptory eagle-sighted eye
+Dares look upon the heaven of her brow ,
+That is not blinded by her majesty ?
+
+What zeal , what fury hath inspir'd thee now ?
+My love , her mistress , is a gracious moon ;
+She , an attending star , scarce seen a light .
+
+My eyes are then no eyes , nor I Berowne :
+O ! but for my love , day would turn to night .
+Of all complexions the cull'd sovereignty
+Do meet , as at a fair , in her fair cheek ;
+Where several worthies make one dignity ,
+Where nothing wants that want itself doth seek .
+Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues ,
+Fie , painted rhetoric ! O ! she needs it not :
+To things of sale a seller's praise belongs ;
+She passes praise ; then praise too short doth blot .
+A wither'd hermit , five-score winters worn ,
+Might shake off fifty , looking in her eye :
+Beauty doth varnish age , as if new-born ,
+And gives the crutch the cradle's infancy .
+O ! 'tis the sun that maketh all things shine .
+
+By heaven , thy love is black as ebony .
+
+Is ebony like her ? O wood divine !
+A wife of such wood were felicity .
+O ! who can give an oath ? where is a book ?
+That I may swear beauty doth beauty lack ,
+If that she learn not of her eye to look :
+No face is fair that is not full so black .
+
+O paradox ! Black is the badge of hell ,
+The hue of dungeons and the scowl of night ;
+And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well .
+
+Devils soonest tempt , resembling spirits of light .
+O ! if in black my lady's brows be deck'd ,
+It mourns that painting and usurping hair
+Should ravish doters with a false aspect ;
+And therefore is she born to make black fair .
+Her favour turns the fashion of the days ,
+For native blood is counted painting now :
+And therefore red , that would avoid dispraise ,
+Paints itself black , to imitate her brow .
+
+To look like her are chimney-sweepers black .
+
+And since her time are colliers counted bright .
+
+And Ethiops of their sweet complexion crack .
+
+Dark needs no candles now , for dark is light .
+
+Your mistresses dare never come in rain ,
+For fear their colours should be wash'd away .
+
+'Twere good yours did ; for , sir , to tell you plain ,
+I'll find a fairer face not wash'd to-day .
+
+I'll prove her fair , or talk till doomsday here .
+
+No devil will fright thee then so much as she .
+
+I never knew man hold vile stuff so dear .
+
+Look , here's thy love :
+
+my foot and her face see .
+
+O ! if the streets were paved with thine eyes ,
+Her feet were much too dainty for such tread .
+
+O vile ! then , as she goes , what upward lies
+The street should see as she walk'd over head .
+
+But what of this ? Are we not all in love ?
+
+Nothing so sure ; and thereby all forsworn .
+
+Then leave this chat ; and good Berowne , now prove
+Our loving lawful , and our faith not torn .
+
+Ay , marry , there ; some flattery for this evil .
+
+O ! some authority how to proceed ;
+Some tricks , some quillets , how to cheat the devil .
+
+Some salve for perjury .
+
+O , 'tis more than need .
+Have at you , then , affection's men-at-arms :
+Consider what you first did swear unto ,
+To fast , to study , and to see no woman ;
+Flat treason 'gainst the kingly state of youth .
+Say , can you fast ? your stomachs are too young ,
+And abstinence engenders maladies .
+And where that you have vow'd to study , lords ,
+In that each of you hath forsworn his book ,
+Can you still dream and pore and thereon look ?
+For when would you , my lord , or you , or you ,
+Have found the ground of study's excellence
+Without the beauty of a woman's face ?
+From women's eyes this doctrine I derive :
+They are the ground , the books , the academes ,
+From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire .
+Why , universal plodding poisons up
+The nimble spirits in the arteries ,
+As motion and long-during action tires
+The sinewy vigour of the traveller .
+Now , for not looking on a woman's face ,
+You have in that forsworn the use of eyes ,
+And study too , the causer of your vow ;
+For where is any author in the world
+Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye ?
+Learning is but an adjunct to ourself ,
+And where we are our learning likewise is :
+Then when ourselves we see in ladies' eyes ,
+Do we not likewise see our learning there ?
+O ! we have made a vow to study , lords ,
+And in that vow we have forsworn our books :
+For when would you , my liege , or you , or you ,
+In leaden contemplation have found out
+Such fiery numbers as the prompting eyes
+Of beauty's tutors have enrich'd you with ?
+Other slow arts entirely keep the brain ,
+And therefore , finding barren practisers ,
+Scarce show a harvest of their heavy toil ;
+But love , first learned in a lady's eyes ,
+Lives not alone immured in the brain ,
+But , with the motion of all elements ,
+Courses as swift as thought in every power ,
+And gives to every power a double power ,
+Above their functions and their offices .
+It adds a precious seeing to the eye ;
+A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind ;
+A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound ,
+When the suspicious head of theft is stopp'd :
+Love's feeling is more soft and sensible
+Than are the tender horns of cockled snails :
+Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste .
+For valour , is not Love a Hercules ,
+Still climbing trees in the Hesperides ?
+Subtle as Sphinx ; as sweet and musical
+As bright Apollo's lute , strung with his hair ;
+And when Love speaks , the voice of all the gods
+Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony .
+Never durst poet touch a pen to write
+Until his ink were temper'd with Love's sighs ;
+O ! then his lines would ravish savage ears ,
+And plant in tyrants mild humility .
+From women's eyes this doctrine I derive :
+They sparkle still the right Promethean fire ;
+They are the books , the arts , the academes ,
+That show , contain , and nourish all the world ;
+Else none at all in aught proves excellent .
+Then fools you were these women to forswear ,
+Or , keeping what is sworn , you will prove fools .
+For wisdom's sake , a word that all men love ,
+Or for love's sake , a word that loves all men ,
+Or for men's sake , the authors of these women ;
+Or women's sake , by whom we men are men ,
+Let us once lose our oaths to find ourselves ,
+Or else we lose ourselves to keep our oaths .
+It is religion to be thus forsworn ;
+For charity itself fulfils the law ;
+And who can sever love from charity ?
+
+Saint Cupid , then ! and , soldiers , to the field !
+
+Advance your standards , and upon them , lords !
+Pell-mell , down with them ! but be first advis'd ,
+In conflict that you get the sun of them .
+
+Now to plain-dealing ; lay these glozes by ;
+Shall we resolve to woo these girls of France ?
+
+And win them too : therefore let us devise
+Some entertainment for them in their tents .
+
+First , from the park let us conduct them thither ;
+Then homeward every man attach the hand
+Of his fair mistress : in the afternoon
+We will with some strange pastime solace them ,
+Such as the shortness of the time can shape ;
+For revels , dances , masks , and merry hours ,
+Forerun fair Love , strewing her way with flowers .
+
+Away , away ! no time shall be omitted ,
+That will betime , and may by us be fitted .
+
+Allons ! allons ! Sow'd cockle reap'd no corn ;
+And justice always whirls in equal measure :
+Light wenches may prove plagues to men forsworn ;
+If so , our copper buys no better treasure .
+
+Satis quod sufficit .
+
+I praise God for you , sir : your reasons at dinner have been sharp and sententious ; pleasant without scurrility , witty without affection , audacious without impudency , learned without opinion , and strange without heresy . I did converse this quondam day with a companion of the king's , who is intituled , nominated , or called , Don Adriano de Armado .
+
+Novi hominem tanquam te : his humour is lofty , his discourse peremptory , his tongue field , his eye ambitious , his gait majestical , and his general behaviour vain , ridiculous , and thrasonical . He is too picked , too spruce , too affected , too odd , as it were , too peregrinate , as I may call it .
+
+A most singular and choice epithet .
+
+
+He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument . I abhor such fanatical phantasimes , such insociable and point-devise companions ; such rackers of orthography , as to speak dout , fine , when he should say , doubt ; det , when he should pronounce , debt ,d , e , b , t , not d , e , t : he clepeth a calf , cauf ; half , hauf ; neighbour vocatur nebour , neigh abbreviated ne . This is abhominable , which he would call abominable ,it insinuateth me of insanie : anne intelligis , domine ? To make frantic , lunatic .
+
+Laus Deo bone intelligo .
+
+Bone ? bone , for bene : Priscian a little scratched ; 'twill serve .
+
+
+Videsne quis venit ?
+
+Video , et gaudeo .
+
+Chirrah !
+
+Quare Chirrah , not sirrah ?
+
+Men of peace , well encountered .
+
+Most military sir , salutation .
+
+They have been at a great feast of languages , and stolen the scraps .
+
+O ! they have lived long on the almsbasket of words . I marvel thy master hath not eaten thee for a word ; for thou art not so long by the head as honorificabilitudinitatibus : thou art easier swallowed than a flap-dragon .
+
+Peace ! the peal begins .
+
+Monsieur , are you not lettered ?
+
+Yes , yes ; he teaches boys the hornbook . What is a , b , spelt backward , with the horn on his head ?
+
+Ba , pueritia , with a horn added .
+
+Ba ! most silly sheep with a horn . You hear his learning .
+
+Quis , quis , thou consonant ?
+
+The third of the five vowels , if you repeat them ; or the fifth , if I .
+
+I will repeat them ,a , e , i ,
+
+The sheep ; the other two concludes it ,o , u .
+
+Now , by the salt wave of the Mediterraneum , a sweet touch , a quick venew of wit ! snip , snap , quick and home ! it rejoiceth my intellect : true wit !
+
+Offered by a child to an old man ; which is wit-old .
+
+What is the figure ? what is the figure ?
+
+Horns .
+
+Thou disputest like an infant ; go , whip thy gig .
+
+Lend me your horn to make one , and I will whip about your infamy circum circa . A gig of a cuckold's horn .
+
+An I had but one penny in the world , thou shouldst have it to buy gingerbread . Hold , there is the very remuneration I had of thy master , thou halfpenny purse of wit , thou pigeon-egg of discretion . O ! an the heavens were so pleased that thou wert but my bastard , what a joyful father wouldst thou make me . Go to ; thou hast it ad dunghill , at the fingers' ends , as they say .
+
+O ! I smell false Latin ; dunghill for unguem .
+
+Arts-man , pr ambula : we will be singled from the barbarous . Do you not educate youth at the charge-house on the top of the mountain ?
+
+Or mons , the hill .
+
+At your sweet pleasure , for the mountain .
+
+I do , sans question .
+
+Sir , it is the king's most sweet pleasure and affection to congratulate the princess at her pavilion in the posteriors of this day , which the rude multitude call the afternoon .
+
+The posterior of the day , most generous sir , is liable , congruent , and measurable for the afternoon : the word is well culled , chose , sweet and apt , I do assure you , sir ; I do assure .
+
+Sir , the king is a noble gentleman , and my familiar , I do assure ye , very good friend . For what is inward between us , let it pass : I do beseech thee , remember thy curtsy ; I beseech thee , apparel thy head : and among other importunate and most serious designs , and of great import indeed , too , but let that pass : for I must tell thee , it will please his Grace , by the world , sometime to lean upon my poor shoulder , and with his royal finger , thus dally with my excrement , with my mustachio : but , sweet heart , let that pass . By the world , I recount no fable : some certain special honours it pleaseth his greatness to impart to Armado , a soldier , a man of travel , that hath seen the world : but let that pass . The very all of all is , but , sweet heart , I do implore secrecy , that the king would have me present the princess , sweet chuck , with some delightful ostentation , or show , or pageant , or antick , or fire-work . Now , understanding that the curate and your sweet self are good at such eruptions and sudden breaking out of mirth , as it were , I have acquainted you withal , to the end to crave your assistance .
+
+Sir , you shall present before her the Nine Worthies . Sir Nathaniel , as concerning some entertainment of time , some show in the posterior of this day , to be rendered by our assistance , at the king's command , and this most gallant , illustrate , and learned gentleman , before the princess ; I say , none so fit as to present the Nine Worthies .
+
+Where will you find men worthy enough to present them ?
+
+Joshua , yourself ; myself , or this gallant gentleman , Judas Maccab us ; this swain , because of his great limb , or joint , shall pass Pompey the Great ; the page , Hercules ,
+
+Pardon , sir ; error : he is not quantity enough for that Worthy's thumb : he is not so big as the end of his club .
+
+Shall I have audience ? he shall present Hercules in minority : his enter and exit shall be strangling a snake ; and I will have an apology for that purpose .
+
+An excellent device ! so , if any of the audience hiss , you may cry , 'Well done , Hercules ! now thou crushest the snake !' that is the way to make an offence gracious , though few have the grace to do it .
+
+For the rest of the Worthies ?
+
+I will play three myself .
+
+Thrice-worthy gentleman !
+
+Shall I tell you a thing ?
+
+We attend .
+
+We will have , if this fadge not , an antick . I beseech you , follow .
+
+Via , goodman Dull ! thou hast spoken no word all this while .
+
+Nor understood none neither , sir .
+
+Allons ! we will employ thee .
+
+I'll make one in a dance , or so ; or I will play the tabor to the Worthies , and let them dance the hay .
+
+Most dull , honest Dull , to our sport , away !
+
+
+Sweet hearts , we shall be rich ere we depart ,
+If fairings come thus plentifully in : lady wall'd about with diamonds !
+Look you what I have from the loving king .
+
+Madam , came nothing else along with that ?
+
+Nothing but this ! yes , as much love in rime
+As would be cramm'd up in a sheet of paper ,
+Writ o' both sides the leaf , margent and all ,
+That he was fain to seal on Cupid's name .
+
+That was the way to make his godhead wax ;
+For he hath been five thousand years a boy .
+
+Ay , and a shrewd unhappy gallows too .
+
+You'll ne'er be friends with him : a' kill'd your sister .
+
+He made her melancholy , sad , and heavy ;
+And so she died : had she been light , like you ,
+Of such a merry , nimble , stirring spirit ,
+She might ha' been a grandam ere she died ;
+And so may you , for a light heart lives long .
+
+What's your dark meaning , mouse , of this light word ?
+
+A light condition in a beauty dark .
+
+We need more light to find your meaning out .
+
+You'll mar the light by taking it in snuff ;
+Therefore , I'll darkly end the argument .
+
+Look , what you do , you do it still i' the dark .
+
+So do not you , for you are a light wench .
+
+Indeed I weigh not you , and therefore light .
+
+You weigh me not . O ! that's you care not for me .
+
+Great reason ; for , 'past cure is still past care .'
+
+Well bandied both ; a set of wit well play'd .
+But Rosaline , you have a favour too :
+Who sent it ? and what is it ?
+
+I would you knew :
+An if my face were but as fair as yours ,
+My favour were as great ; be witness this .
+Nay , I have verses too , I thank Berowne :
+The numbers true ; and , were the numb'ring too ,
+I were the fairest goddess on the ground :
+I am compar'd to twenty thousand fairs .
+O ! he hath drawn my picture in his letter .
+
+Anything like ?
+
+Much in the letters , nothing in the praise .
+
+Beauteous as ink ; a good conclusion .
+
+Fair as a text B in a copy-book .
+
+'Ware pencils ! how ? let me not die your debtor .
+My red dominical , my golden letter :
+O , that your face were not so full of O's !
+
+A pox of that jest ! and beshrew all shrows !
+
+But what was sent to you from fair Dumaine ?
+
+Madam , this glove .
+
+Did he not send you twain ?
+
+Yes , madam ; and moreover ,
+Some thousand verses of a faithful lover :
+A huge translation of hypocrisy ,
+Vilely compil'd , profound simplicity .
+
+This , and these pearls to me sent Longaville :
+The letter is too long by half a mile .
+
+I think no less . Dost thou not wish in heart
+The chain were longer and the letter short ?
+
+Ay , or I would these hands might never part .
+
+We are wise girls to mock our lovers so .
+
+They are worse fools to purchase mocking so .
+That same Berowne I'll torture ere I go .
+O that I knew he were but in by the week !
+How I would make him fawn , and beg , and seek ,
+And wait the season , and observe the times ,
+And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rimes ,
+And shape his service wholly to my hests ,
+And make him proud to make me proud that jests !
+So perttaunt-like would I o'ersway his state
+That he should be my fool , and I his fate .
+
+None are so surely caught , when they are catch'd ,
+As wit turn'd fool : folly , in wisdom hatch'd ,
+Hath wisdom's warrant and the help of school
+And wit's own grace to grace a learned fool .
+
+The blood of youth burns not with such excess
+As gravity's revolt to wantonness .
+
+Folly in fools bears not so strong a note
+As foolery in the wise , when wit doth dote ;
+Since all the power thereof it doth apply
+To prove , by wit , worth in simplicity .
+
+
+Here comes Boyet , and mirth is in his face .
+
+O ! I am stabb'd with laughter . Where's her Grace ?
+
+Thy news , Boyet ?
+
+Prepare , madam , prepare !
+Arm , wenches , arm ! encounters mounted are
+Against your peace : Love doth approach disguis'd ,
+Armed in arguments ; you'll be surpris'd :
+Muster your wits ; stand in your own defence ;
+Or hide your heads like cowards , and fly hence .
+
+Saint Denis to Saint Cupid ! What are they
+That charge their breath against us ? say , scout , say .
+
+Under the cool shade of a sycamore
+I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour ,
+When , lo ! to interrupt my purpos'd rest ,
+Toward that shade I might behold addrest
+The king and his companions : warily
+I stole into a neighbour thicket by ,
+And overheard what you shall overhear ;
+That , by and by , disguis'd they will be here .
+Their herald is a pretty knavish page ,
+That well by heart hath conn'd his embassage :
+Action and accent did they teach him there ;
+'Thus must thou speak , and thus thy body bear .'
+And ever and anon they made a doubt
+Presence majestical would put him out ;
+'For ,' quoth the king , 'an angel shalt thou see ;
+Yet fear not thou , but speak audaciously .'
+The boy replied , 'An angel is not evil ;
+I should have fear'd her had she been a devil .'
+With that all laugh'd and clapp'd him on the shoulder ,
+Making the bold wag by their praises bolder .
+One rubb'd his elbow thus , and fleer'd , and swore
+A better speech was never spoke before ;
+Another , with his finger and his thumb ,
+Cry'd 'Via ! we will do't , come what will come ;'
+The third he caper'd and cried , 'All goes well ;'
+The fourth turn'd on the toe , and down he fell .
+With that , they all did tumble on the ground ,
+With such a zealous laughter , so profound ,
+That in this spleen ridiculous appears ,
+To check their folly , passion's solemn tears .
+
+But what , but what , come they to visit us ?
+
+They do , they do ; and are apparell'd thus ,
+Like Muscovites or Russians , as I guess .
+Their purpose is to parle , to court and dance ;
+And every one his love-feat will advance
+Unto his several mistress , which they'll know
+By favours several which they did bestow .
+
+And will they so ? the gallants shall be task'd :
+For , ladies , we will every one be mask'd ,
+And not a man of them shall have the grace ,
+Despite of suit , to see a lady's face .
+Hold , Rosaline , this favour thou shalt wear ,
+And then the king will court thee for his dear :
+Hold , take thou this , my sweet , and give me thine ,
+So shall Berowne take me for Rosaline ,
+And change you favours too ; so shall your loves
+Woo contrary , deceiv'd by these removes .
+
+Come on , then ; wear the favours most in sight .
+
+But in this changing what is your intent ?
+
+The effect of my intent is , to cross theirs :
+They do it but in mocking merriment ;
+And mock for mock is only my intent .
+Their several counsels they unbosom shall
+To loves mistook and so be mock'd withal
+Upon the next occasion that we meet ,
+With visages display'd , to talk and greet .
+
+But shall we dance , if they desire us to't ?
+
+No , to the death , we will not move a foot :
+Nor to their penn'd speech render we no grace ;
+But while 'tis spoke each turn away her face .
+
+Why , that contempt will kill the speaker's heart ,
+And quite divorce his memory from his part .
+
+Therefore I do it ; and I make no doubt ,
+The rest will ne'er come in , if he be out .
+There's no such sport as sport by sport o'erthrown ,
+To make theirs ours and ours none but our own :
+So shall we stay , mocking intended game ,
+And they , well mock'd , depart away with shame .
+
+
+The trumpet sounds : be mask'd ; the maskers come .
+
+
+All hail , the richest beauties on the earth !
+
+Beauties no richer than rich taffeta .
+
+A holy parcel of the fairest dames ,
+
+That ever turn'd their backs to mortal views !
+
+'Their eyes ,' villain , 'their eyes .'
+
+That ever turn'd their eyes to mortal views !
+Out
+
+True ; 'out ,' indeed .
+
+'Out of your favours , heavenly spirits , vouchsafe
+Not to behold'
+
+'Once to behold ,' rogue .
+
+'Once to behold with your sun-beamed eyes ,
+with your sun-beamed eyes'
+
+They will not answer to that epithet ;
+You were best call it 'daughter-beamed eyes .'
+
+They do not mark me , and that brings me out .
+
+Is this your perfectness ? be gone , you rogue !
+
+
+What would these strangers ? know their minds , Boyet :
+If they do speak our language , 'tis our will
+That some plain man recount their purposes :
+Know what they would .
+
+What would you with the princess ?
+
+Nothing but peace and gentle visitation .
+
+What would they , say they ?
+
+Nothing but peace and gentle visitation .
+
+Why , that they have ; and bid them so be gone .
+
+She says , you have it , and you may be gone .
+
+Say to her , we have measur'd many miles ,
+To tread a measure with her on this grass .
+
+They say , that they have measur'd many a mile ,
+To tread a measure with you on this grass .
+
+It is not so . Ask them how many inches
+Is in one mile : if they have measur'd many ,
+The measure then of one is easily told .
+
+If to come hither you have measur'd miles ,
+And many miles , the princess bids you tell
+How many inches do fill up one mile .
+
+Tell her we measure them by weary steps .
+
+She hears herself .
+
+How many weary steps ,
+Of many weary miles you have o'ergone ,
+Are number'd in the travel of one mile ?
+
+We number nothing that we spend for you :
+Our duty is so rich , so infinite ,
+That we may do it still without accompt .
+Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face ,
+That we , like savages , may worship it .
+
+My face is but a moon , and clouded too .
+
+Blessed are clouds , to do as such clouds do !
+Vouchsafe , bright moon , and these thy stars , to shine ,
+Those clouds remov'd , upon our wat'ry eyne .
+
+O vain petitioner ! beg a greater matter ;
+Thou now request'st but moonshine in the water .
+
+Then , in our measure but vouchsafe one change .
+Thou bid'st me beg ; this begging is not strange .
+
+Play , music , then ! Nay , you must do it soon .
+
+Not yet ! no dance ! thus change I like the moon .
+
+Will you not dance ? How come you thus estrang'd ?
+
+You took the moon at full , but now she's chang'd .
+
+Yet still she is the moon , and I the man .
+The music plays ; vouchsafe some motion to it .
+
+Our ears vouchsafe it .
+
+But your legs should do it .
+
+Since you are strangers , and come here by chance ,
+We'll not be nice : take hands : we will not dance .
+
+Why take we hands then ?
+
+Only to part friends .
+Curtsy , sweet hearts ; and so the measure ends .
+
+More measure of this measure : be not nice .
+
+We can afford no more at such a price .
+
+Prize you yourselves ? what buys your company ?
+
+Your absence only .
+
+That can never be .
+
+Then cannot we be bought : and so , adieu ;
+Twice to your visor , and half once to you !
+
+If you deny to dance , let's hold more chat .
+
+In private , then .
+
+I am best pleas'd with that .
+
+
+White-handed mistress , one sweet word with thee .
+
+Honey , and milk , and sugar ; there are three .
+
+Nay then , two treys , an if you grow so nice ,
+Metheglin , wort , and malmsey : well run , dice !
+There's half a dozen sweets .
+
+Seventh sweet , adieu :
+Since you can cog , I'll play no more with you .
+
+One word in secret .
+
+Let it not be sweet .
+
+Thou griev'st my gall .
+
+Gall ! bitter .
+
+Therefore meet .
+
+
+Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word ?
+
+Name it .
+
+Fair lady ,
+
+Say you so ? Fair lord ,
+Take that for your fair lady .
+
+Please it you ,
+As much in private , and I'll bid adieu .
+
+
+What ! was your visor made without a tongue ?
+
+I know the reason , lady , why you ask .
+
+O ! for your reason ; quickly , sir ; I long .
+
+You have a double tongue within your mask ,
+And would afford my speechless visor half .
+
+'Veal ,' quoth the Dutchman . Is not 'veal' a calf ?
+
+A calf , fair lady !
+
+No , a fair lord calf .
+
+Let's part the word .
+
+No , I'll not be your half :
+Take all , and wean it : it may prove an ox .
+
+Look , how you butt yourself in these sharp mocks .
+Will you give horns , chaste lady ? do not so .
+
+Then die a calf , before your horns do grow .
+
+One word in private with you , ere I die .
+
+Bleat softly then ; the butcher hears you cry .
+
+
+The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen
+As is the razor's edge invisible ,
+Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen ,
+Above the sense of sense ; so sensible
+Seemeth their conference ; their conceits have wings
+Fleeter than arrows , bullets , wind , thought , swifter things .
+
+Not one word more , my maids : break off , break off .
+
+By heaven , all dry-beaten with pure scoff !
+
+Farewell , mad wenches : you have simple wits .
+
+Twenty adieus , my frozen Muscovits .
+
+Are these the breed of wits so wonder'd at ?
+
+Tapers they are , with your sweet breaths puff'd out .
+
+Well-liking wits they have ; gross , gross ; fat , fat .
+
+O poverty in wit , kingly-poor flout !
+Will they not , think you , hang themselves to-night ?
+Or ever , but in visors , show their faces ?
+This pert Berowne was out of countenance quite .
+
+O ! they were all in lamentable cases .
+The king was weeping-ripe for a good word .
+
+Berowne did swear himself out of all suit .
+
+Dumaine was at my service , and his sword :
+'No point ,' quoth I : my servant straight was mute .
+
+Lord Longaville said , I came o'er his heart ;
+And trow you what he call'd me ?
+
+Qualm , perhaps .
+
+Yes , in good faith .
+
+Go , sickness as thou art !
+
+Well , better wits have worn plain statutecaps .
+But will you hear ? the king is my love sworn .
+
+And quick Berowne hath plighted faith to me .
+
+And Longaville was for my service born .
+
+Dumaine is mine , as sure as bark on tree .
+
+Madam , and pretty mistresses , give ear :
+Immediately they will again be here
+In their own shapes ; for it can never be
+They will digest this harsh indignity .
+
+Will they return ?
+
+They will , they will , God knows ;
+And leap for joy , though they are lame with blows :
+Therefore change favours ; and , when they repair ,
+Blow like sweet roses in this summer air .
+
+How blow ? how blow ? speak to be understood .
+
+Fair ladies mask'd , are roses in their bud :
+Dismask'd , their damask sweet commixture shown ,
+Are angels vailing clouds , or roses blown .
+
+Avaunt perplexity ! What shall we do
+If they return in their own shapes to woo ?
+
+Good madam , if by me you'll be advis'd ,
+Let's mock them still , as well known as disguis'd .
+Let us complain to them what fools were here ,
+Disguis'd like Muscovites , in shapeless gear ;
+And wonder what they were , and to what end
+Their shallow shows and prologue vilely penn'd ,
+And their rough carriage so ridiculous ,
+Should be presented at our tent to us .
+
+Ladies , withdraw : the gallants are at hand .
+
+Whip to your tents , as roes run over land .
+
+Fair sir , God save you ! Where is the princess ?
+
+Gone to her tent . Please it your majesty ,
+Command me any service to her thither ?
+
+That she vouchsafe me audience for one word .
+
+I will ; and so will she , I know , my lord .
+
+
+This fellow pecks up wit , as pigeons pease ,
+And utters it again when God doth please :
+He is wit's pedlar , and retails his wares
+At wakes and wassails , meetings , markets , fairs ;
+And we that sell by gross , the Lord doth know ,
+Have not the grace to grace it with such show .
+This gallant pins the wenches on his sleeve ;
+Had he been Adam , he had tempted Eve :
+He can carve too , and lisp : why , this is he
+That kiss'd his hand away in courtesy ;
+This is the ape of form , monsieur the nice ,
+That , when he plays at tables , chides the dice
+In honourable terms : nay , he can sing
+A mean most meanly , and in ushering
+Mend him who can : the ladies call him , sweet ;
+The stairs , as he treads on them , kiss his feet .
+This is the flower that smiles on every one ,
+To show his teeth as white as whales-bone ;
+And consciences , that will not die in debt ,
+Pay him the due of honey-tongu'd Boyet .
+
+A blister on his sweet tongue , with my heart ,
+That put Armado's page out of his part !
+
+
+See where it comes ! Behaviour , what wert thou ,
+Till this man show'd thee ? and what art thou now ?
+
+All hail , sweet madam , and fair time of day !
+
+'Fair ,' in 'all hail ,' is foul , as I conceive .
+
+Construe my speeches better , if you may .
+
+Then wish me better : I will give you leave .
+
+We came to visit you , and purpose now
+To lead you to our court : vouchsafe it then .
+
+This field shall hold me , and so hold your vow :
+Nor God , nor I , delights in perjur'd men .
+
+Rebuke me not for that which you provoke :
+The virtue of your eye must break my oath .
+
+You nick-name virtue ; vice you should have spoke ;
+For virtue's office never breaks men's troth .
+Now , by my maiden honour , yet as pure
+As the unsullied lily , I protest ,
+A world of torments though I should endure ,
+I would not yield to be your house's guest ;
+So much I hate a breaking cause to be
+Of heavenly oaths , vow'd with integrity .
+
+O ! you have liv'd in desolation here ,
+Unseen , unvisited , much to our shame .
+
+Not so , my lord ; it is not so , I swear ;
+We have had pastime here and pleasant game .
+A mess of Russians left us but of late .
+
+How , madam ! Russians ?
+
+Ay , in truth , my lord ;
+Trim gallants , full of courtship and of state .
+
+Madam , speak true . It is not so , my lord :
+My lady , to the manner of the days ,
+In courtesy gives undeserving praise .
+We four , indeed , confronted were with four
+In Russian habit : here they stay'd an hour ,
+And talk'd apace ; and in that hour , my lord ,
+They did not bless us with one happy word .
+I dare not call them fools ; but this I think ,
+When they are thirsty , fools would fam have drink .
+
+This jest is dry to me . Fair gentle sweet ,
+Your wit makes wise things foolish : when we greet ,
+With eyes best seeing , heaven's fiery eye ,
+By light we lose light : your capacity
+Is of that nature that to your huge store
+Wise things seem foolish and rich things but poor .
+
+This proves you wise and rich , for in my eye
+
+I am a fool , and full of poverty .
+
+But that you take what doth to you belong ,
+It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue .
+
+O ! I am yours , and all that I possess .
+
+All the fool mine ?
+
+I cannot give you less .
+
+Which of the visors was it that you wore ?
+
+Where ? when ? what visor ? why demand you this ?
+
+There , then , that visor ; that superfluous case
+That hid the worse , and show'd the better face .
+
+We are descried : they'll mock us now downright .
+
+Let us confess , and turn it to a jest .
+
+Amaz'd , my lord ? Why looks your highness sad ?
+
+Help ! hold his brows ! he'll swound .
+Why look you pale ?
+Sea-sick , I think , coming from Muscovy .
+
+Thus pour the stars down plagues for perjury .
+Can any face of brass hold longer out ?
+Here stand I , lady ; dart thy skill at me ;
+Bruise me with scorn , confound me with a flout ;
+Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance ;
+Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit ;
+And I will wish thee never more to dance ,
+Nor never more in Russian habit wait .
+O ! never will I trust to speeches penn'd ,
+Nor to the motion of a school-boy's tongue ,
+Nor never come in visor to my friend ,
+Nor woo in rime , like a blind harper's song ,
+Taffeta phrases , silken terms precise ,
+Three-pil'd hyperboles , spruce affectation ,
+Figures pedantical ; these summer flies
+Have blown me full of maggot ostentation :
+I do forswear them ; and I here protest ,
+By this white glove ,how white the hand ,
+God knows ,
+Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express'd
+In russet yeas and honest kersey noes :
+And , to begin , wench ,so God help me , la !
+My love to thee is sound , sans crack or flaw .
+
+Sans 'sans ,' I pray you .
+
+Yet I have a trick
+Of the old rage : bear with me , I am sick ;
+I'll leave it by degrees . Soft ! let us see :
+Write , 'Lord have mercy on us' on those three ;
+They are infected , in their hearts it lies ;
+They have the plague , and caught it of your eyes :
+These lords are visited ; you are not free ,
+For the Lord's tokens on you do I see .
+
+No , they are free that gave these tokens to us .
+
+Our states are forfeit : seek not to undo us .
+
+It is not so . For how can this be true ,
+That you stand forfeit , being those that sue ?
+
+Peace ! for I will not have to do with you .
+
+Nor shall not , if I do as I intend .
+
+Speak for yourselves : my wit is at an end .
+
+Teach us , sweet madam , for our rude transgression
+Some fair excuse .
+
+The fairest is confession .
+Were you not here , but even now , disguis'd ?
+
+Madam , I was .
+
+And were you well advis'd ?
+
+I was , fair madam .
+
+When you then were here ,
+What did you whisper in your lady's ear ?
+
+That more than all the world I did respect her .
+
+When she shall challenge this , you will reject her .
+
+Upon mine honour , no .
+
+Peace ! peace ! forbear ;
+Your oath once broke , you force not to forswear .
+
+Despise me , when I break this oath of mine .
+
+I will ; and therefore keep it . Rosaline ,
+What did the Russian whisper in your ear ?
+
+Madam , he swore that he did hold me dear
+As precious eyesight , and did value me
+Above this world ; adding thereto , moreover ,
+That he would wed me , or else die my lover .
+
+God give thee joy of him ! the noble lord
+Most honourably doth uphold his word .
+
+What mean you , madam ? by my life , my troth ,
+I never swore this lady such an oath .
+
+By heaven you did ; and to confirm it plain ,
+You gave me this : but take it , sir , again .
+
+My faith and this the princess I did give :
+I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve .
+
+Pardon me , sir , this jewel did she wear ;
+And Lord Berowne , I thank him , is my dear .
+What , will you have me , or your pearl again ?
+
+Neither of either ; I remit both twain .
+I see the trick on't : here was a consent ,
+Knowing aforehand of our merriment ,
+To dash it like a Christmas comedy .
+Some carry-tale , some please-man , some slight zany ,
+Some mumble-news , some trencher-knight , some Dick ,
+That smiles his cheek in years , and knows the trick
+To make my lady laugh when she's dispos'd ,
+Told our intents before ; which once disclos'd ,
+The ladies did change favours , and then we ,
+Following the signs , woo'd but the sign of she .
+Now , to our perjury to add more terror ,
+We are again forsworn , in will and error .
+Much upon this it is :
+
+and might not you
+Forestall our sport , to make us thus untrue ?
+Do not you know my lady's foot by the squire ,
+And laugh upon the apple of her eye ?
+And stand between her back , sir , and the fire ,
+Holding a trencher , jesting merrily ?
+You put our page out : go , you are allow'd ;
+Die when you will , a smock shall be your shroud .
+You leer upon me , do you ? there's an eye
+Wounds like a leaden sword .
+
+Full merrily
+Hath this brave manage , this career , been run .
+
+Lo ! he is tilting straight . Peace ! I have done .
+
+Welcome , pure wit ! thou partest a fair fray .
+
+O Lord , sir , they would know
+Whether the three Worthies shall come in or no .
+
+What , are there but three ?
+
+No , sir ; but it is vara fine ,
+For every one pursents three .
+
+And three times thrice is nine .
+
+Not so , sir ; under correction , sir , I hope , it is not so .
+You cannot beg us , sir , I can assure you , sir ; we know what we know :
+I hope , sir , three times thrice , sir ,
+
+Is not nine .
+
+Under correction , sir , we know whereuntil it doth amount .
+
+By Jove , I always took three threes for nine .
+
+O Lord , sir ! it were pity you should get your living by reckoning , sir .
+
+How much is it ?
+
+O Lord , sir ! the parties themselves , the actors , sir , will show whereuntil it doth amount : for mine own part , I am , as they say , but to parfect one man in one poor man , Pompion the Great , sir .
+
+Art thou one of the Worthies ?
+
+It pleased them to think me worthy of Pompion the Great : for mine own part , I know not the degree of the Worthy , but I am to stand for him .
+
+Go , bid them prepare .
+
+We will turn it finely off , sir ; we will take some care .
+
+
+Berowne , they will shame us ; let them not approach .
+
+We are shame-proof , my lord ; and 'tis some policy
+To have one show worse than the king's and his company .
+
+I say they shall not come .
+
+Nay , my good lord , let me o'errule you now .
+That sport best pleases that doth least know how ;
+Where zeal strives to content , and the contents
+Die in the zeal of those which it presents ;
+Their form confounded makes most form in mirth ,
+When great things labouring perish in their birth .
+
+A right description of our sport , my lord .
+
+
+Anointed , I implore so much expense of thy royal sweet breath as will utter a brace of words .
+
+
+Doth this man serve God ?
+
+Why ask you ?
+
+He speaks not like a man of God's making ,
+
+That's all one , my fair , sweet , honey monarch ; for , I protest , the schoolmaster is exceeding fantastical ; too-too vain ; too-too vain : but we will put it , as they say , to fortuna de la guerra . I wish you the peace of mind , most royal couplement !
+
+
+Here is like to be a good presence of Worthies . He presents Hector of Troy ; the swain , Pompey the Great ; the parish curate , Alexander ; Armado's page , Hercules ; the pedant , Judas Maccab us :
+And if these four Worthies in their first show thrive ,
+These four will change habits and present the other five .
+
+There is five in the first show .
+
+You are deceived , 'tis not so .
+
+The pedant , the braggart , the hedgepriest , the fool , and the boy :
+Abate throw at novum , and the whole world again
+Cannot pick out five such , take each one in his vein .
+
+The ship is under sail , and here she comes amain .
+
+
+I Pompey am ,
+
+You lie , you are not he .
+
+I Pompey am ,
+
+With libbard's head on knee .
+
+Well said , old mocker : I must needs be friends with thee .
+
+I Pompey am , Pompey surnam'd the Big ,
+
+'The Great .'
+
+It is 'Great ,' sir ; Pompey surnam'd the Great ;
+That oft in field , with targe and shield , did make my foe to sweat :
+And travelling along this coast , I here am come by chance ,
+And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lass of France .
+If your ladyship would say , 'Thanks , Pompey ,' I had done .
+
+Great thanks , great Pompey .
+
+'Tis not so much worth ; but I hope I was perfect . I made a little fault in 'Great .'
+
+My hat to a halfpenny , Pompey proves the best Worthy .
+
+
+When in the world I liv'd , I was the world's commander ;
+By east , west , north , and south , I spread my conquering might :
+My scutcheon plain declares that I am Alisander ,
+
+Your nose says , no , you are not ; for it stands too right .
+
+Your nose smells 'no ,' in this , most tender-smelling knight .
+
+The conqueror is dismay'd . Proceed , good Alexander .
+
+When in the world I liv'd , I was the world's commander ;
+
+Most true ; 'tis right : you were so , Alisander .
+
+Pompey the Great ,
+
+Your servant , and Costard .
+
+Take away the conqueror , take away Alisander .
+
+
+There , an't shall please you : a foolish mild man ; an honest man , look you , and soon dashed ! He is a marvellous good neighbour , faith , and a very good bowler ; but , for Alisander ,alas , you see how 'tis ,a little o'erparted . But there are Worthies a-coming will speak their mind in some other sort .
+
+Stand aside , good Pompey .
+
+
+Great Hercules is presented by this imp ,
+Whose club kill'd Cerberus , that three-headed canis ;
+And , when he was a babe , a child , a shrimp ,
+Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus .
+Quoniam , he seemeth in minority ,
+Ergo , I come with this apology .
+Keep some state in thy exit , and vanish .
+
+Judas I am .
+
+A Judas !
+
+Not Iscariot , sir .
+Judas I am , ycleped Maccab us .
+
+Judas Maccab us clipt is plain Judas .
+
+A kissing traitor . How art thou prov'd Judas ?
+
+Judas I am .
+
+The more shame for you , Judas .
+
+What mean you , sir ?
+
+To make Judas hang himself .
+
+Begin , sir ; you are my elder .
+
+Well follow'd : Judas was hanged on an elder .
+
+I will not be put out of countenance .
+
+Because thou hast no face .
+
+What is this ?
+
+A cittern-head .
+
+The head of a bodkin .
+
+A death's face in a ring .
+
+The face of an old Roman coin , scarce seen .
+
+The pommel of C sar's falchion .
+
+The carved-bone face on a flask .
+
+Saint George's half-cheek in a brooch .
+
+Ay , and in a brooch of lead .
+
+Ay , and worn in the cap of a toothdrawer .
+And now forward ; for we have put thee in countenance .
+
+You have put me out of countenance .
+
+False : we have given thee faces .
+
+But you have outfaced them all .
+
+An thou wert a lion , we would do so .
+
+Therefore , as he is an ass , let him go .
+And so adieu , sweet Jude ! nay , why dost thou stay ?
+
+For the latter end of his name .
+
+For the ass to the Jude ? give it him :Jud-as , away !
+
+This is not generous , not gentle , not humble .
+
+A light for Monsieur Judas ! it grows dark , he may stumble .
+
+Alas ! poor Maccab us , how hath he been baited .
+
+
+Hide thy head , Achilles : here comes Hector in arms .
+
+Though my mocks come home by me , I will now be merry .
+
+Hector was but a Troyan in respect of this .
+
+But is this Hector ?
+
+I think Hector was not so clean-timbered .
+
+His calf is too big for Hector .
+
+More calf , certain .
+
+No ; he is best indued in the small .
+
+This cannot be Hector .
+
+He's a god or a painter ; for he makes faces .
+
+The armipotent Mars , of lances the almighty ,
+Gave Hector a gift ,
+
+A gilt nutmeg .
+
+A lemon .
+
+Stuck with cloves .
+
+No , cloven .
+
+Peace !
+The armipotent Mars , of lances the almighty , Gave Hector a gift , the heir of Ilion ;
+A man so breath'd , that certain he would fight ye
+From morn till night , out of his pavilion .
+I am that flower ,
+
+That mint .
+
+That columbine .
+
+Sweet Lord Longaville , rein thy tongue .
+
+I must rather give it the rein , for it runs against Hector .
+
+Ay , and Hector's a greyhound .
+
+The sweet war-man is dead and rotten ; sweet chucks , beat not the bones of the buried ; when he breathed , he was a man . But I will forward with my device .
+
+Sweet royalty , bestow on me the sense of hearing .
+
+Speak , brave Hector ; we are much delighted .
+
+I do adore thy sweet Grace's slipper .
+
+Loves her by the foot .
+
+He may not by the yard .
+
+This Hector far surmounted Hannibal ,
+
+The party is gone ; fellow Hector , she is gone ; she is two months on her way .
+
+What meanest thou ?
+
+Faith , unless you play the honest Troyan , the poor wench is cast away : she's quick ; the child brags in her belly already : 'tis yours .
+
+Dost thou infamonize me among potentates ? Thou shalt die .
+
+Then shall Hector be whipped for Jaquenetta that is quick by him , and hanged for Pompey that is dead by him .
+
+Most rare Pompey !
+
+Renowned Pompey !
+
+Greater than great , great , great , great Pompey ! Pompey the Huge !
+
+Hector trembles .
+
+Pompey is moved . More Ates , more Ates ! stir them on ! stir them on !
+
+Hector will challenge him .
+
+Ay , if a' have no more man's blood in's belly than will sup a flea .
+
+By the north pole , I do challenge thee .
+
+I will not fight with a pole , like a northern man : I'll slash ; I'll do it by the sword . I bepray you , let me borrow my arms again .
+
+Room for the incensed Worthies !
+
+I'll do it in my shirt .
+
+Most resolute Pompey !
+
+Master , let me take you a button-hole lower . Do you not see Pompey is uncasing for the combat ? What mean you ? you will lose your reputation .
+
+Gentlemen and soldiers , pardon me ; I will not combat in my shirt .
+
+You may not deny it ; Pompey hath made the challenge .
+
+Sweet bloods , I both may and will .
+
+What reason have you for't ?
+
+The naked truth of it is , I have no shirt . I go woolward for penance .
+
+True , and it was enjoined him in Rome for want of linen ; since when , I'll be sworn , he wore none but a dish-clout of Jaquenetta's , and that a' wears next his heart for a favour .
+
+
+God save you , madam !
+
+Welcome , Marcade ;
+But that thou interrupt'st our merriment .
+
+I am sorry , madam ; for the news I bring
+Is heavy in my tongue . The king your father
+
+Dead , for my life !
+
+Even so : my tale is told .
+
+Worthies , away ! The scene begins to cloud .
+
+For my own part , I breathe free breath . I have seen the day of wrong through the little hole of discretion , and I will right myself like a soldier .
+
+
+How fares your majesty ?
+
+Boyet , prepare : I will away to-night .
+
+Madam , not so : I do beseech you , stay .
+
+Prepare , I say . I thank you , gracious lords ,
+For all your fair endeavours ; and entreat ,
+Out of a new-sad soul , that you vouchsafe
+In your rich wisdom to excuse or hide
+The liberal opposition of our spirits ,
+If over-boldly we have borne ourselves
+In the converse of breath ; your gentleness
+Was guilty of it . Farewell , worthy lord !
+A heavy heart bears not a nimble tongue ,
+Excuse me so , coming so short of thanks
+For my great suit so easily obtain'd .
+
+The extreme part of time extremely forms
+All causes to the purpose of his speed ,
+And often , at his very loose , decides
+That which long process could not arbitrate :
+And though the mourning brow of progeny
+Forbid the smiling courtesy of love
+The holy suit which fain it would convince ;
+Yet , since love's argument was first on foot ,
+Let not the cloud of sorrow justle it
+From what it purpos'd ; since , to wail friends lost
+Is not by much so wholesome-profitable
+As to rejoice at friends but newly found .
+
+I understand you not : my griefs are double .
+
+Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief ;
+And by these badges understand the king .
+For your fair sakes have we neglected time ,
+Play'd foul play with our oaths . Your beauty , ladies ,
+Hath much deform'd us , fashioning our humours
+Even to the opposed end of our intents ;
+And what in us hath seem'd ridiculous ,
+As love is full of unbefitting strains ;
+All wanton as a child , skipping and vain ;
+Form'd by the eye , and , therefore , like the eye ,
+Full of stray shapes , of habits and of forms ,
+Varying in subjects , as the eye doth roll
+To every varied object in his glance :
+Which parti-coated presence of loose love
+Put on by us , if , in your heavenly eyes ,
+Have misbecome our oaths and gravities ,
+Those heavenly eyes , that look into these faults ,
+Suggested us to make . Therefore , ladies ,
+Our love being yours , the error that love makes
+Is likewise yours : we to ourselves prove false ,
+By being once false for ever to be true
+To those that make us both ,fair ladies , you :
+And even that falsehood , in itself a sin ,
+Thus purifies itself and turns to grace .
+
+We have receiv'd your letters full of love ;
+Your favours , the embassadors of love ;
+And , in our maiden council , rated them
+At courtship , pleasant jest , and courtesy ,
+As bombast and as lining to the time .
+But more devout than this in our respects
+Have we not been ; and therefore met your loves
+In their own fashion , like a merriment .
+
+Our letters , madam , show'd much more than jest .
+
+So did our looks .
+
+We did not quote them so .
+
+Now , at the latest minute of the hour ,
+Grant us your loves .
+
+A time , methinks , too short
+To make a world-without-end bargain in .
+No , no , my lord , your Grace is perjur'd much ,
+Full of dear guiltiness ; and therefore this :
+If for my love ,as there is no such cause ,
+You will do aught , this shall you do for me :
+Your oath I will not trust ; but go with speed
+To some forlorn and naked hermitage ,
+Remote from all the pleasures of the world ;
+There stay , until the twelve celestial signs
+Have brought about their annual reckoning .
+If this austere insociable life
+Change not your offer made in heat of blood ;
+If frosts and fasts , hard lodging and thin weeds ,
+Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love ,
+But that it bear this trial and last love ;
+Then , at the expiration of the year ,
+Come challenge me , challenge me by these deserts ,
+And , by this virgin palm now kissing thine ,
+I will be thine ; and , till that instant , shut
+My woful self up in a mourning house ,
+Raining the tears of lamentation
+For the remembrance of my father's death .
+If this thou do deny , let our hands part ;
+Neither intitled in the other's heart .
+
+If this , or more than this , I would deny ,
+To flatter up these powers of mine with rest ,
+The sudden hand of death close up mine eye !
+Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast .
+
+And what to me , my love ? and what to me ?
+
+You must be purged too , your sins are rack'd :
+You are attaint with faults and perjury ;
+Therefore , if you my favour mean to get ,
+A twelvemonth shall you spend , and never rest ,
+But seek the weary beds of people sick .
+
+But what to me , my love ? but what to me ?
+
+A wife ! A beard , fair health , and honesty ;
+With three-fold love I wish you all these three .
+
+O ! shall I say , I thank you , gentle wife ?
+
+Not so , my lord . A twelvemonth and a day
+I'll mark no words that smooth-fac'd wooers say :
+Come when the king doth to my lady come ;
+Then , if I have much love , I'll give you some .
+
+I'll serve thee true and faithfully till then .
+
+Yet swear not , lest you be forsworn again .
+
+What says Maria ?
+
+At the twelvemonth's end
+I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend .
+
+I'll stay with patience ; but the time is long .
+
+The liker you ; few taller are so young .
+
+Studies my lady ? mistress , look on me .
+Behold the window of my heart , mine eye ,
+What humble suit attends thy answer there ;
+Impose some service on me for thy love .
+
+Oft have I heard of you , my Lord Berowne ,
+Before I saw you , and the world's large tongue
+Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks ;
+Full of comparisons and wounding flouts ,
+Which you on all estates will execute
+That lie within the mercy of your wit :
+To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain ,
+And therewithal to win me , if you please ,
+Without the which I am not to be won ,
+You shall this twelvemonth term , from day to day ,
+Visit the speechless sick , and still converse
+With groaning wretches ; and your task shall be ,
+With all the fierce endeavour of your wit
+To enforce the pained impotent to smile .
+
+To move wild laughter in the throat of death ?
+It cannot be ; it is impossible :
+Mirth cannot move a soul in agony .
+
+Why , that's the way to choke a gibing spirit ,
+Whose influence is begot of that loose grace
+Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools .
+A jest's prosperity lics in the ear
+Of him that hears it , never in the tongue
+Of him that makes it : then , if sickly ears ,
+Deaf'd with the clamours of their own dear groans ,
+Will hear your idle scorns , continue them ,
+And I will have you and that fault withal ;
+But if they will not , throw away that spirit ,
+And I shall find you empty of that fault ,
+Right joyful of your reformation .
+
+A twelvemonth ! well , befall what will befall ,
+I'll jest a twelvemonth in a hospital .
+
+Ay , sweet my lord ; and so I take my leave .
+
+No , madam ; we will bring you on your way .
+
+Our wooing doth not end like an old play ;
+Jack hath not Jill ; these ladies' courtesy
+Might well have made our sport a comedy .
+
+Come , sir , it wants a twelvemonth and a day ,
+And then 'twill end .
+
+That's too long for a play .
+
+
+Sweet majesty , vouchsafe me ,
+
+Was not that Hector ?
+
+The worthy knight of Troy .
+
+I will kiss thy royal finger , and take leave . I am a votary ; I have vowed to Jaquenetta to hold the plough for her sweet love three years . But , most esteemed greatness , will you hear the dialogue that the two learned men have compiled in praise of the owl and the cuckoo ? it should have followed in the end of our show .
+
+Call them forth quickly ; we will do so .
+
+Holla ! approach .
+
+
+This side is Hiems , Winter ; this Ver , the Spring ; the one maintained by the owl , the other by the cuckoo . Ver , begin .
+
+SPRING .
+
+
+I
+
+When daisies pied and violets blue
+And lady-smocks all silver-white
+And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
+Do paint the meadows with delight ,
+The cuckoo then , on every tree ,
+Mocks married men ; for thus sings he ,
+Cuckoo ,
+Cuckoo , cuckoo : O , word of fear ,
+Unpleasing to a married ear !
+
+II .
+
+When shepherds pipe on oaten straws ,
+And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks ,
+When turtles tread , and rooks , and daws ,
+And maidens bleach their summer smocks ,
+The cuckoo then , on every tree ,
+Mocks married men ; for thus sings he ,
+Cuckoo ;
+Cuckoo , cuckoo : O , word of fear ,
+Unpleasing to a married ear !
+
+WINTER .
+
+
+III .
+
+When icicles hang by the wall ,
+And Dick the shepherd blows his nail ,
+And Tom bears logs into the hall ,
+And milk comes frozen home in pail ,
+When blood is nipp'd , and ways be foul ,
+Then nightly sings the staring owl ,
+Tu-who ;
+Tu-whit , tu-who a merry note ,
+While greasy Joan doth keel the pot .
+
+IV
+
+When all aloud the wind doth blow ,
+And coughing drowns the parson's saw ,
+And birds sit brooding in the snow ,
+And Marian's nose looks red and raw ,
+When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl ,
+Then nightly sings the staring owl ,
+Tu-who ;
+Tu-whit , tu-who a merry note ,
+While greasy Joan doth keel the pot .
+
+
+The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo . You , that way : we , this way .
+
+MEASURE FOR MEASURE
+
+Escalus .
+
+My lord ?
+
+Of government the properties to unfold ,
+Would seem in me to affect speech and discourse ,
+Since I am put to know that your own science
+Exceeds , in that , the lists of all advice
+My strength can give you : then no more remains ,
+But that , to your sufficiency , as your worth is able ,
+And let them work . The nature of our people ,
+Our city's institutions , and the terms
+For common justice , you're as pregnant in ,
+As art and practice hath enriched any
+That we remember . There is our commission ,
+
+From which we would not have you warp . Call hither ,
+I say , bid come before us Angelo .
+
+What figure of us think you he will bear ?
+For you must know , we have with special soul
+Elected him our absence to supply ,
+Lent him our terror , drest him with our love ,
+And given his deputation all the organs
+Of our own power : what think you of it ?
+
+If any in Vienna be of worth
+To undergo such ample grace and honour ,
+It is Lord Angelo .
+
+Look where he comes .
+
+
+Always obedient to your Grace's will ,
+I come to know your pleasure .
+
+Angelo ,
+There is a kind of character in thy life ,
+That , to th' observer doth thy history
+Fully unfold . Thyself and thy belongings
+Are not thine own so proper , as to waste
+Thyself upon thy virtues , they on thee .
+Heaven doth with us as we with torches do ,
+Not light them for themselves ; for if our virtues
+Did not go forth of us , 'twere all alike
+As if we had them not . Spirits are not finely touch'd
+But to fine issues , nor Nature never lends
+The smallest scruple of her excellence ,
+But , like a thrifty goddess , she determines
+Herself the glory of a creditor ,
+Both thanks and use . But I do bend my speech
+To one that can my part in him advertise ;
+Hold , therefore , Angelo :
+
+In our remove be thou at full ourself ;
+Mortality and mercy in Vienna
+Live in thy tongue and heart . Old Escalus ,
+Though first in question , is thy secondary .
+Take thy commission .
+
+
+Now , good my lord ,
+Let there be some more test made of my metal ,
+Before so noble and so great a figure
+Be stamp'd upon it .
+
+No more evasion :
+We have with a leaven'd and prepared choice
+Proceeded to you ; therefore take your honours .
+Our haste from hence is of so quick condition
+That it prefers itself , and leaves unquestion'd
+Matters of needful value . We shall write to you ,
+As time and our concernings shall importune ,
+How it goes with us ; and do look to know
+What doth befall you here . So , fare you well :
+To the hopeful execution do I leave you
+Of your commissions .
+
+Yet , give leave , my lord ,
+That we may bring you something on the way .
+
+My haste may not admit it ;
+Nor need you , on mine honour , have to do
+With any scruple : your scope is as mine own ,
+So to enforce or qualify the laws
+As to your soul seems good . Give me your hand ;
+I'll privily away : I love the people ,
+But do not like to stage me to their eyes .
+Though it do well , I do not relish well
+Their loud applause and Aves vehement ,
+Nor do I think the man of safe discretion
+That does affect it . Once more , fare you well .
+
+The heavens give safety to your purposes !
+
+Lead forth and bring you back in happiness !
+
+I thank you . Fare you well .
+
+
+I shall desire you , sir , to give me leave
+To have free speech with you ; and it concerns me
+To look into the bottom of my place :
+A power I have , but of what strength and nature
+I am not yet instructed .
+
+'Tis so with me . Let us withdraw together ,
+And we may soon our satisfaction have
+Touching that point .
+
+I'll wait upon your honour .
+
+
+If the Duke with the other dukes come not to composition with the King of Hungary , why then , all the dukes fall upon the king .
+
+Heaven grant us its peace , but not the King of Hungary's !
+
+Amen .
+
+Thou concludest like the sanctimonious pirate , that went to sea with the Ten Commandments , but scraped one out of the table .
+
+'Thou shalt not steal ?'
+
+Ay , that he razed .
+
+Why , 'twas a commandment to command the captain and all the rest from their functions : they put forth to steal . There's not a soldier of us all , that , in the thanksgiving before meat , doth relish the petition well that prays for peace .
+
+I never heard any soldier dislike it .
+
+I believe thee , for I think thou never wast where grace was said .
+
+No ? a dozen times at least .
+
+What , in metre ?
+
+In any proportion or in any language .
+
+I think , or in any religion .
+
+Ay ; why not ? Grace is grace , despite of all controversy : as , for example , thou thyself art a wicked villain , despite of all grace .
+
+Well , there went but a pair of shears between us .
+
+I grant ; as there may between the lists and the velvet : thou art the list .
+
+And thou the velvet : thou art good velvet ; thou art a three-piled piece , I warrant thee . I had as lief be a list of an English kersey as be piled , as thou art piled , for a French velvet . Do I speak feelingly now ?
+
+I think thou dost ; and , indeed , with most painful feeling of thy speech : I will , out of thine own confession , learn to begin thy health ; but , whilst I live , forget to drink after thee .
+
+I think I have done myself wrong , have I not ?
+
+Yes , that thou hast , whether thou art tainted or free .
+
+Behold , behold , where Madam Mitigation comes ! I have purchased as many diseases under her roof as come to
+
+To what , I pray ?
+
+Judge .
+
+To three thousand dolours a year .
+
+Ay , and more .
+
+A French crown more .
+
+Thou art always figuring diseases in me ; but thou art full of error : I am sound .
+
+Nay , not as one would say , healthy ; but so sound as things that are hollow : thy bones are hollow ; impiety has made a feast of thee .
+
+
+How now ! which of your hips has the most profound sciatica ?
+
+Well , well ; there's one yonder arrested and carried to prison was worth five thousand of you all .
+
+Who's that , I pray thee ?
+
+Marry , sir , that's Claudio , Signior Claudio .
+
+Claudio to prison ! 'tis not so .
+
+Nay , but I know 'tis so : I saw him arrested ; saw him carried away ; and , which is more , within these three days his head to be chopped off .
+
+But , after all this fooling , I would not have it so . Art thou sure of this ?
+
+I am too sure of it ; and it is for getting Madam Julietta with child .
+
+Believe me , this may be : he promised to meet me two hours since , and he was ever precise in promise-keeping .
+
+Besides , you know , it draws something near to the speech we had to such a purpose .
+
+But most of all , agreeing with the proclamation .
+
+Away ! let's go learn the truth of it .
+
+
+Thus , what with the war , what with the sweat , what with the gallows and what with poverty , I am custom-shrunk .
+
+How now ! what's the news with you ?
+
+Yonder man is carried to prison .
+
+Well : what has he done ?
+
+A woman .
+
+But what's his offence ?
+
+Groping for trouts in a peculiar river .
+
+What , is there a maid with child by him ?
+
+No ; but there's a woman with maid by him . You have not heard of the proclamation , have you ?
+
+What proclamation , man ?
+
+All houses of resort in the suburbs of Vienna must be plucked down
+
+And what shall become of those in the city ?
+
+They shall stand for seed : they had gone down too , but that a wise burgher put in for them .
+
+But shall all our houses of resort in the suburbs be pulled down ?
+
+To the ground , mistress .
+
+Why , here's a change indeed in the commonwealth ! What shall become of me ?
+
+Come ; fear not you : good counsellors lack no clients : though you change your place , you need not change your trade ; I'll be your tapster still . Courage ! there will be pity taken on you ; you that have worn your eyes almost out in the service , you will be considered .
+
+What's to do here , Thomas tapster ?
+Let's withdraw .
+
+Here comes Signior Claudio , led by the provost to prison ; and there's Madam Juliet .
+
+Fellow , why dost thou show me thus to the world ?
+Bear me to prison , where I am committed .
+
+I do it not in evil disposition ,
+But from Lord Angelo by special charge .
+
+Thus can the demi-god Authority
+Make us pay down for our offence' by weight .
+The words of heaven ; on whom it will , it will ;
+On whom it will not , so : yet still 'tis just .
+
+
+Why , how now , Claudio ! whence comes this restraint ?
+
+From too much liberty , my Lucio , liberty :
+As surfeit is the father of much fast ,
+So every scope by the immoderate use
+Turns to restraint . Our natures do pursue
+Like rats that ravin down their proper bane ,
+A thirsty evil , and when we drink we die .
+
+If I could speak so wisely under an arrest , I would send for certain of my creditors . And yet , to say the truth , I had as lief have the foppery of freedom as the morality of imprisonment . What's thy offence , Claudio ?
+
+What but to speak of would offend again .
+
+What , is't murder ?
+
+No .
+
+Lechery ?
+
+Call it so .
+
+Away , sir ! you must go .
+
+One word , good friend . Lucio , a word with you .
+
+
+A hundred , if they'll do you any good .
+Is lechery so looked after ?
+
+Thus stands it with me : upon a true contract
+I got possession of Julietta's bed :
+You know the lady ; she is fast my wife ,
+Save that we do the denunciation lack
+Of outward order : this we came not to ,
+Only for propagation of a dower
+Remaining in the coffer of her friends ,
+From whom we thought it meet to hide our love
+Till time had made them for us . But it chances
+The stealth of our most mutual entertainment
+With character too gross is writ on Juliet .
+
+With child , perhaps ?
+
+Unhappily , even so .
+And the new deputy now for the duke ,
+Whether it be the fault and glimpse of newness ,
+Or whether that the body public be
+A horse whereon the governor doth ride ,
+Who , newly in the seat , that it may know
+He can command , lets it straight feel the spur ;
+Whether the tyranny be in his place ,
+Or in his eminence that fills it up ,
+I stagger in :but this new governor
+Awakes me all the enrolled penalties
+Which have , like unscour'd armour , hung by the wall
+So long that nineteen zodiacs have gone round ,
+And none of them been worn ; and , for a name ,
+Now puts the drowsy and neglected act
+Freshly on me : 'tis surely for a name .
+
+I warrant it is : and thy head stands so tickle on thy shoulders that a milkmaid , if she be in love , may sigh it off . Send after the duke and appeal to him .
+
+I have done so , but he's not to be found .
+I prithee , Lucio , do me this kind service .
+This day my sister should the cloister enter ,
+And there receive her approbation :
+Acquaint her with the danger of my state ;
+Implore her , in my voice , that she make friends
+To the strict deputy ; bid herself assay him :
+I have great hope in that ; for in her youth
+There is a prone and speechless dialect ,
+Such as move men ; beside , she hath prosperous art
+When she will play with reason and discourse ,
+And well she can persuade .
+
+I pray she may : as well for the encouragement of the like , which else would stand under grievous imposition , as for the enjoying of thy life , who I would be sorry should be thus foolishly lost at a game of tick-tack . I'll to her .
+
+I thank you , good friend Lucio .
+
+Within two hours .
+
+Come , officer , away !
+
+
+No , holy father ; throw away that thought :
+Believe not that the dribbling dart of love
+Can pierce a complete bosom . Why I desire thee
+To give me secret harbour , hath a purpose
+More grave and wrinkled than the aims and ends
+Of burning youth .
+
+May your Grace speak of it ?
+
+My holy sir , none better knows than you
+How I have ever lov'd the life remov'd ,
+And held in idle price to haunt assemblies
+Where youth , and cost , and witless bravery keeps .
+I have deliver'd to Lord Angelo
+A man of stricture and firm abstinence
+My absolute power and place here in Vienna ,
+And he supposes me travell'd to Poland ;
+For so I have strew'd it in the common ear ,
+And so it is receiv'd . Now , pious sir ,
+You will demand of me why I do this ?
+
+Gladly , my lord .
+
+We have strict statutes and most biting laws ,
+The needful bits and curbs to headstrong steeds ,
+Which for this fourteen years we have let sleep ;
+Even like an o'ergrown lion in a cave ,
+That goes not out to prey . Now , as fond fathers ,
+Having bound up the threat'ning twigs of birch ,
+Only to stick it in their children's sight
+For terror , not to use , in time the rod
+Becomes more mock'd than fear'd ; so our decrees ,
+Dead to infliction , to themselves are dead ,
+And liberty plucks justice by the nose ;
+The baby beats the nurse , and quite athwart
+Goes all decorum .
+
+It rested in your Grace
+T' unloose this tied-up justice when you pleas'd ;
+And it in you more dreadful would have seem'd
+Than in Lord Angelo .
+
+I do fear , too dreadful :
+Sith 'twas my fault to give the people scope ,
+'Twould be my tyranny to strike and gall them
+For what I bid them do : for we bid this be done ,
+When evil deeds have their permissive pass
+And not the punishment . Therefore , indeed , my father ,
+I have on Angelo impos'd the office ,
+Who may , in the ambush of my name , strike home ,
+And yet my nature never in the sight
+To do it slander . And to behold his sway ,
+I will , as 'twere a brother of your order ,
+Visit both prince and people : therefore , I prithee ,
+Supply me with the habit , and instruct me
+How I may formally in person bear me
+Like a true friar . Moe reasons for this action
+At our more leisure shall I render you ;
+Only , this one : Lord Angelo is precise ;
+Stands at a guard with envy ; scarce confesses
+That his blood flows , or that his appetite
+Is more to bread than stone : hence shall we see ,
+If power change purpose , what our seemers be .
+
+
+And have you nuns no further privileges ?
+
+Are not these large enough ?
+
+Yes , truly : I speak not as desiring more ,
+But rather wishing a more strict restraint
+Upon the sisterhood , the votarists of Saint Clare .
+
+Ho ! Peace be in this place !
+
+Who's that which calls ?
+
+It is a man's voice . Gentle Isabella ,
+Turn you the key , and know his business of him :
+You may , I may not ; you are yet unsworn .
+When you have vow'd , you must not speak with men
+But in the presence of the prioress :
+Then , if you speak , you must not show your face ,
+Or , if you show your face , you must not speak .
+He calls again ; I pray you , answer him .
+
+
+Peace and prosperity ! Who is't that calls ?
+
+
+Hail , virgin , if you be , as those cheek-roses
+Proclaim you are no less ! Can you so stead me
+As bring me to the sight of Isabella ,
+A novice of this place , and the fair sister
+To her unhappy brother Claudio ?
+
+Why 'her unhappy brother ?' let me ask ;
+The rather for I now must make you know
+I am that Isabella and his sister .
+
+Gentle and fair , your brother kindly greets you :
+Not to be weary with you , he's in prison .
+
+Woe me ! for what ?
+
+For that which , if myself might be his judge ,
+He should receive his punishment in thanks :
+He hath got his friend with child .
+
+Sir , make me not your story .
+
+It is true .
+I would not , though 'tis my familiar sin
+With maids to seem the lapwing and to jest ,
+Tongue far from heart , play with all virgins so :
+I hold you as a thing ensky'd and sainted ;
+By your renouncement an immortal spirit ,
+And to be talk'd with in sincerity ,
+As with a saint .
+
+You do blaspheme the good in mocking me .
+
+Do not believe it . Fewness and truth , 'tis thus :
+Your brother and his lover have embrac'd :
+As those that feed grow full , as blossoming time
+That from the seedness the bare fallow brings
+To teeming foison , even so her plenteous womb
+Expresseth his full tilth and husbandry .
+
+Some one with child by him ? My cousin Juliet ?
+
+Is she your cousin ?
+
+Adoptedly ; asschool-maids change their names
+By vain , though apt affection .
+
+She it is .
+
+O ! let him marry her .
+
+This is the point .
+The duke is very strangely gone from hence ;
+Bore many gentlemen , myself being one ,
+In hand and hope of action ; but we do learn
+By those that know the very nerves of state ,
+His givings out were of an infinite distance
+From his true-meant design . Upon his place ,
+And with full line of his authority ,
+Governs Lord Angelo ; a man whose blood
+Is very snow-broth ; one who never feels
+The wanton stings and motions of the sense ,
+But doth rebate and blunt his natural edge
+With profits of the mind , study and fast .
+He ,to give fear to use and liberty ,
+Which have for long run by the hideous law ,
+As mice by lions , hath pick'd out an act ,
+Under whose heavy sense your brother's life
+Falls into forfeit : he arrests him on it ,
+And follows close the rigour of the statute ,
+To make him an example . All hope is gone ,
+Unless you have the grace by your fair prayer
+To soften Angelo ; and that's my pith of business
+Twixt you and your poor brother .
+
+Doth he so seek his life ?
+
+He's censur'd him
+Already ; and , as I hear , the provost hath
+A warrant for his execution .
+
+Alas ! what poor ability's in me
+To do him good ?
+
+Assay the power you have .
+
+My power ? alas ! I doubt
+
+Our doubts are traitors ,
+And make us lose the good we oft might win ,
+By fearing to attempt . Go to Lord Angelo ,
+And let him learn to know , when maidens sue ,
+Men give like gods ; but when they weep and kneel ,
+All their petitions are as freely theirs
+As they themselves would owe them .
+
+I'll see what I can do .
+
+But speedily .
+
+I will about it straight ;
+No longer staying but to give the Mother
+Notice of my affair . I humbly thank you :
+Commend me to my brother ; soon at night
+I'll send him certain word of my success .
+
+I take my leave of you .
+
+Good sir , adieu .
+
+We must not make a scarecrow of the law ,
+Setting it up to fear the birds of prey ,
+And let it keep one shape , till custom make it
+Their perch and not their terror .
+
+Ay , but yet
+Let us be keen and rather cut a little ,
+Than fall , and bruise to death . Alas ! this gentleman ,
+Whom I would save , had a most noble father .
+Let but your honour know ,
+Whom I believe to be most strait in virtue ,
+That , in the working of your own affections ,
+Had time coher'd with place or place with wishing ,
+Or that the resolute acting of your blood
+Could have attain'd the effect of your own purpose ,
+Whether you had not , some time in your life ,
+Err'd in this point which now you censure him ,
+And pull'd the law upon you .
+
+'Tis one thing to be tempted , Escalus ,
+Another thing to fall . I not deny ,
+The jury , passing on the prisoner's life ,
+May in the sworn twelve have a thief or two
+Guiltier than him they try ; what's open made to justice ,
+That justice seizes : what know the laws
+That thieves do pass on thieves ? 'Tis very pregnant ,
+The jewel that we find , we stoop and take it
+Because we see it ; but what we do not see
+We tread upon , and never think of it .
+You may not so extenuate his offence
+For I have had such faults ; but rather tell me ,
+When I , that censure him , do so offend ,
+Let mine own judgment pattern out my death ,
+And nothing come in partial . Sir , he must die .
+
+Be it as your wisdom will .
+
+Where is the provost ?
+
+Here , if it like your honour .
+
+See that Claudio
+Be executed by nine to-morrow morning :
+Bring him his confessor , let him be prepar'd ;
+For that's the utmost of his pilgrimage .
+
+
+Well , heaven forgive him , and forgive us all !
+Some rise by sin , and some by virtue fall :
+Some run from brakes of ice , and answer none ,
+And some condemned for a fault alone .
+
+
+Come , bring them away : if these be good people in a common-weal that do nothing but use their abuses in common houses , I know no law : bring them away .
+
+How now , sir ! What's your name , and what's the matter ?
+
+If it please your honour , I am the poor duke's constable , and my name is Elbow : I do lean upon justice , sir ; and do bring in here before your good honour two notorious benefactors .
+
+Benefactors ! Well ; what benefactors are they ? are they not malefactors ?
+
+If it please your honour , I know not well what they are ; but precise villains they are , that I am sure of , and void of all profanation in the world that good Christians ought to have .
+
+This comes off well : here's a wise officer .
+
+Go to : what quality are they of ? Elbow is your name ? why dost thou not speak , Elbow ?
+
+He cannot , sir : he's out at elbow .
+
+What are you , sir ?
+
+He , sir ! a tapster , sir ; parcel-bawd ; one that serves a bad woman , whose house , sir , was , as they say , plucked down in the suburbs ; and now she professes a hot-house , which , I think , is a very ill house too .
+
+How know you that ?
+
+My wife , sir , whom I detest before heaven and your honour ,
+
+How ! thy wife ?
+
+Ay , sir ; whom , I thank heaven , is an honest woman ,
+
+Dost thou detest her therefore ?
+
+I say , sir , I will detest myself also , as well as she , that this house , if it be not a bawd's house , it is pity of her life , for it is a naughty house .
+
+How dost thou know that , constable ?
+
+Marry , sir , by my wife ; who , if she had been a woman cardinally given , might have been accused in fornication , adultery , and all uncleanliness there .
+
+By the woman's means ?
+
+Ay , sir , by Mistress Overdone's means ; but as she spit in his face , so she defied him .
+
+Sir , if it please your honour , this is not so .
+
+Prove it before these varlets here , thou honourable man , prove it .
+
+Do you hear how he misplaces ?
+
+Sir , she came in , great with child , and longing ,saving your honour's reverence ,for stewed prunes . Sir , we had but two in the house , which at that very distant time stood , as it were , in a fruit-dish , a dish of some three-pence ; your honours have seen such dishes ; they are not China dishes , but very good dishes .
+
+Go to , go to : no matter for the dish , sir .
+
+No , indeed , sir , not of a pin ; you are therein in the right : but to the point . As I say , this Mistress Elbow , being , as I say , with child , and being great-bellied , and longing , as I said , for prunes , and having but two in the dish , as I said , Master Froth here , this very man , having eaten the rest , as I said , and , as I say , paying for them very honestly ; for , as you know , Master Froth , I could not give you three-pence again .
+
+No , indeed .
+
+Very well : you being then , if you be remembered , cracking the stones of the foresaid prunes ,
+
+Ay , so I did , indeed .
+
+Why , very well : I telling you then , if you be remembered , that such a one and such a one were past cure of the thing you wot of , unless they kept very good diet , as I told you ,
+
+All this is true .
+
+Why , very well then .
+
+Come , you are a tedious fool : to the purpose . What was done to Elbow's wife , that he hath cause to complain of ? Come me to what was done to her .
+
+Sir , your honour cannot come to that yet .
+
+No , sir , nor I mean it not .
+
+Sir , but you shall come to it , by your honour's leave . And , I beseech you , look into Master Froth here , sir ; a man of fourscore pound a year , whose father died at Hallowmas . Was't not at Hallowmas , Master Froth ?
+
+All-hallownd eve .
+
+Why , very well : I hope here be truths . He , sir , sitting , as I say , in a lower chair , sir ; 'twas in the Bunch of Grapes , where indeed , you have a delight to sit , have you not ?
+
+I have so , because it is an open room and good for winter .
+
+Why , very well then : I hope here be truths .
+
+This will last out a night in Russia ,
+When nights are longest there : I'll take my leave ,
+And leave you to the hearing of the cause ,
+Hoping you'll find good cause to whip them all .
+
+I think no less . Good morrow to your lordship .
+
+Now , sir , come on : what was done to Elbow's wife , once more ?
+
+Once , sir ? there was nothing done to her once .
+
+I beseech you , sir , ask him what this man did to my wife .
+
+I beseech your honour , ask me .
+
+Well , sir , what did this gentleman to her ?
+
+I beseech you , sir , look in this gentleman's face . Good Master Froth , look upon his honour ; 'tis for a good purpose . Doth your honour mark his face ?
+
+Ay , sir , very well .
+
+Nay , I beseech you , mark it well .
+
+Well , I do so .
+
+Doth your honour see any harm in his face ?
+
+Why , no .
+
+I'll be supposed upon a book , his face is the worst thing about him . Good , then ; if his face be the worst thing about him , how could Master Froth do the constable's wife any harm ? I would know that of your honour .
+
+He's in the right . Constable , what say you to it ?
+
+First , an' it like you , the house is a respected house ; next , this is a respected fellow , and his mistress is a respected woman .
+
+By this hand , sir , his wife is a more respected person than any of us all .
+
+Varlet , thou liest : thou liest , wicked varlet . The time is yet to come that she was ever respected with man , woman , or child .
+
+Sir , she was respected with him before he married with her .
+
+Which is the wiser here ? Justice , or Iniquity ? Is this true ?
+
+O thou caitiff ! O thou varlet ! O thou wicked Hannibal ! I respected with her before I was married to her ? If ever I was respected with her , or she with me , let not your worship think me the poor duke's officer . Prove this , thou wicked Hannibal , or I'll have mine action of battery on thee .
+
+If he took you a box o' th' ear , you might have your action of slander too .
+
+Marry , I thank your good worship for it . What is't your worship's pleasure I shall do with this wicked caitiff ?
+
+Truly , officer , because he hath some offences in him that thou wouldest discover if thou couldst , let him continue in his courses till thou knowest what they are .
+
+Marry , I thank your worship for it . Thou seest , thou wicked varlet , now , what's come upon thee : thou art to continue now , thou varlet , thou art to continue .
+
+Where were you born , friend ?
+
+Here in Vienna , sir .
+
+Are you of fourscore pounds a year ?
+
+Yes , an't please you , sir .
+
+So .
+
+What trade are you of , sir ?
+
+A tapster ; a poor widow's tapster .
+
+Your mistress' name ?
+
+Mistress Overdone .
+
+Hath she had any more than one husband ?
+
+Nine , sir ; Overdone by the last .
+
+Nine !Come hither to me , Master Froth . Master Froth , I would not have you acquainted with tapsters ; they will draw you , Master Froth , and you will hang them . Get you gone , and let me hear no more of you .
+
+I thank your worship . For mine own part , I never come into any room in a taphouse , but I am drawn in .
+
+Well : no more of it , Master Froth : farewell .
+
+Come you hither to me , Master tapster . What's your name , Master tapster ?
+
+Pompey .
+
+What else ?
+
+Bum , sir .
+
+Troth , and your bum is the greatest thing about you , so that , in the beastliest sense , you are Pompey the Great . Pompey , you are partly a bawd , Pompey , howsoever you colour it in being a tapster , are you not ? come , tell me true : it shall be the better for you .
+
+Truly , sir , I am a poor fellow that would live .
+
+How would you live , Pompey ? by being a bawd ? What do you think of the trade , Pompey ? is it a lawful trade ?
+
+If the law would allow it , sir .
+
+But the law will not allow it , Pompey ; nor it shall not be allowed in Vienna .
+
+Does your worship mean to geld and splay all the youth of the city ?
+
+No , Pompey .
+
+Truly , sir , in my humble opinion , they will to't then . If your worship will take order for the drabs and the knaves , you need not to fear the bawds .
+
+There are pretty orders beginning , I can tell you : it is but heading and hanging .
+
+If you head and hang all that offend that way but for ten year together , you'll be glad to give out a commission for more heads . If this law hold in Vienna ten year , I'll rent the fairest house in it after threepence a bay . If you live to see this come to pass , say , Pompey told you so .
+
+Thank you , good Pompey ; and , in requital of your prophecy , hark you : I advise you , let me not find you before me again upon any complaint whatsoever ; no , not for dwelling where you do : if I do , Pompey , I shall beat you to your tent , and prove a shrewd C sar to you . In plain dealing , Pompey , I shall have you whipt . So , for this time , Pompey , fare you well .
+
+I thank your worship for your good counsel ;
+
+but I shall follow it as the flesh and fortune shall better determine .
+Whip me ! No , no ; let carman whip his jade ;
+The valiant heart's not whipt out of his trade .
+
+
+Come hither to me , Master Elbow ; come hither , Master constable . How long have you been in this place of constable ?
+
+Seven year and a half , sir .
+
+I thought , by your readiness in the office , you had continued in it some time . You say , seven years together ?
+
+And a half , sir .
+
+Alas ! it hath been great pains to you ! They do you wrong to put you so oft upon 't . Are there not men in your ward sufficient to serve it ?
+
+Faith , sir , few of any wit in such matters . As they are chosen , they are glad to choose me for them : I do it for some piece of money , and go through with all .
+
+Look you bring me in the names of some six or seven , the most sufficient of your parish .
+
+To your worship's house , sir ?
+
+To my house . Fare you well .
+
+What's o'clock , think you ?
+
+Eleven , sir .
+
+I pray you home to dinner with me .
+
+I humbly thank you .
+
+It grieves me for the death of Claudio ;
+But there is no remedy .
+
+Lord Angelo is severe .
+
+It is but needful :
+Mercy is not itself , that oft looks so ;
+Pardon is still the nurse of second woe .
+But yet , poor Claudio ! There's no remedy .
+Come , sir .
+
+
+He's hearing of a cause : he will come straight :
+I'll tell him of you .
+
+Pray you , do .
+
+I'll know
+His pleasure ; may be he will relent . Alas !
+He hath but as offended in a dream :
+All sects , all ages smack of this vice , and he
+To die for it !
+
+
+Now , what's the matter , provost ?
+
+Is it your will Claudio shall die to-morrow ?
+
+Did I not tell thee , yea ? hadst thou not order ?
+Why dost thou ask again ?
+
+Lest I might be too rash .
+Under your good correction , I have seen ,
+When , after execution , Judgment hath
+Repented o'er his doom .
+
+Go to ; let that be mine :
+Do you your office , or give up your place ,
+And you shall well be spar'd .
+
+I crave your honour's pardon .
+What shall be done , sir , with the groaning Juliet ?
+She's very near her hour .
+
+Dispose of her
+To some more fitter place ; and that with speed .
+
+
+Here is the sister of the man condemn'd
+Desires access to you .
+
+Hath he a sister ?
+
+Ay , my good lord ; a very virtuous maid ,
+And to be shortly of a sisterhood ,
+If not already .
+
+Well , let her be admitted .
+
+See you the fornicatress be remov'd :
+Let her have needful , but not lavish , means ;
+There shall be order for't .
+
+
+God save your honour !
+
+
+Stay a little while .
+
+You're welcome : what's your will ?
+
+I am a woful suitor to your honour ,
+Please but your honour hear me .
+
+Well ; what's your suit ?
+
+There is a vice that most I do abhor ,
+And most desire should meet the blow of justice ,
+For which I would not plead , but that I must ;
+For which I must not plead , but that I am
+At war 'twixt will and will not .
+
+Well ; the matter ?
+
+I have a brother is condemn'd to die :
+I do beseech you , let it be his fault ,
+And not my brother .
+
+Heaven give thee moving graces !
+
+Condemn the fault , and not the actor of it ?
+Why , every fault's condemn'd ere it be done .
+Mine were the very cipher of a function ,
+To fine the faults whose fine stands in record ,
+And let go by the actor .
+
+O just , but severe law !
+I had a brother , then .Heaven keep your honour !
+
+
+Give't not o'er so : to him again , entreat him ;
+Kneel down before him , hang upon his gown ;
+You are too cold ; if you should need a pin ,
+You could not with more tame a tongue desire it .
+To him . I say !
+
+Must he needs die ?
+
+Maiden , no remedy .
+
+Yes ; I do think that you might pardon him ,
+And neither heaven nor man grieve at the mercy .
+
+I will not do't .
+
+But can you , if you would ?
+
+Look , what I will not , that I cannot do .
+
+But might you do't , and do the world no wrong ,
+If so your heart were touch'd with that remorse
+As mine is to him ?
+
+He's sentenc'd : 'tis too late .
+
+You are too cold .
+
+Too late ? why , no ; I , that do speak a word ,
+May call it back again . Well , believe this ,
+No ceremony that to great ones 'longs ,
+Not the king's crown , nor the deputed sword ,
+The marshal's truncheon , nor the judge's robe ,
+Become them with one half so good a grace
+As mercy does .
+If he had been as you , and you as he ,
+You would have slipt like him ; but he , like you ,
+Would not have been so stern .
+
+Pray you , be gone .
+
+I would to heaven I had your potency ,
+And you were Isabel ! should it then be thus ?
+No ; I would tell what 'twere to be a judge ,
+And what a prisoner .
+
+Ay , touch him ; there's the vein .
+
+Your brother is a forfeit of the law ,
+And you but waste your words .
+
+Alas ! alas !
+Why , all the souls that were were forfeit once ;
+And He that might the vantage best have took ,
+Found out the remedy . How would you be ,
+If He , which is the top of judgment , should
+But judge you as you are ? O ! think on that ,
+And mercy then will breathe within your lips ,
+Like man new made .
+
+Be you content , fair maid ;
+It is the law , not I , condemn your brother :
+Were he my kinsman , brother , or my son ,
+It should be thus with him : he must die to-morrow .
+
+To-morrow ! O ! that's sudden ! Spare him , spare him !
+He's not prepar'd for death . Even for our kitchens
+We kill the fowl of season : shall we serve heaven
+With less respect than we do minister
+To our gross selves ? Good , good my lord , bethink you :
+Who is it that hath died for this offence ?
+There's many have committed it .
+
+Ay , well said .
+
+The law hath not been dead , though it hath slept :
+Those many had not dar'd to do that evil ,
+If that the first that did th' edict infringe
+Had answer'd for his deed : now 'tis awake ,
+Takes note of what is done , and , like a prophet ,
+Looks in a glass , that shows what future evils ,
+Either new , or by remissness new-conceiv'd ,
+And so in progress to be hatch'd and born ,
+Are now to have no successive degrees ,
+But , ere they live , to end .
+
+Yet show some pity .
+
+I show it most of all when I show justice ;
+For then I pity those I do not know ,
+Which a dismiss'd offence would after gall ,
+And do him right , that , answering one foul wrong ,
+Lives not to act another . Be satisfied :
+Your brother dies to-morrow : be content .
+
+So you must be the first that gives this sentence ,
+And he that suffers . O ! it is excellent
+To have a giant's strength , but it is tyrannous
+To use it like a giant .
+
+That's well said .
+
+Could great men thunder
+As Jove himself does , Jove would ne'er be quiet ,
+For every pelting , petty officer
+Would use his heaven for thunder ; nothing but thunder .
+Merciful heaven !
+Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt
+Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak
+Than the soft myrtle ; but man , proud man ,
+Drest in a little brief authority ,
+Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd ,
+His glassy essence , like an angry ape ,
+Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven
+As make the angels weep ; who , with our spleens ,
+Would all themselves laugh mortal .
+
+O , to him , to him , wench ! He will relent :
+He's coming : I perceive't .
+
+Pray heaven she win him !
+
+We cannot weigh our brother with ourself :
+Great men may jest with saints ; 'tis wit in them ,
+But , in the less foul profanation .
+
+Thou'rt in the right , girl : more o' that .
+
+That in the captain's but a choleric word ,
+Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy .
+
+Art advis'd o' that ? more on 't .
+
+Why do you put these sayings upon me ?
+
+Because authority , though it err like others ,
+Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself ,
+That skins the vice o' the top . Go to your bosom ;
+Knock there , and ask your heart what it doth know
+That's like my brother's fault : if it confess
+A natural guiltiness such as is his ,
+Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue
+Against my brother's life .
+
+She speaks , and 'tis
+Such sense that my sense breeds with it . Fare you well .
+
+Gentle my lord , turn back .
+
+I will bethink me . Come again to-morrow .
+
+Hark how I'll bribe you . Good my lord , turn back .
+
+How ! bribe me ?
+
+Ay , with such gifts that heaven shall share with you .
+
+You had marr'd all else .
+
+Not with fond sicles of the tested gold ,
+Or stones whose rates are either rich or poor
+As fancy values them ; but with true prayers
+That shall be up at heaven and enter there
+Ere sun-rise : prayers from preserved souls ,
+From fasting maids whose minds are dedicate
+To nothing temporal .
+
+Well ; come to me to-morrow .
+
+Go to ; 'tis well : away !
+
+Heaven keep your honour safe !
+
+Amen :
+For I am that way going to temptation ,
+Where prayers cross .
+
+At what hour to-morrow
+Shall I attend your lordship ?
+
+At any time 'fore noon .
+
+Save your honour !
+
+
+From thee ; even from thy virtue !
+What's this ? what's this ? Is this her fault or mine ?
+The tempter or the tempted , who sins most ?
+Ha !
+Not she ; nor doth she tempt : but it is I ,
+That , lying by the violet in the sun ,
+Do as the carrion does , not as the flower ,
+Corrupt with virtuous season . Can it be
+That modesty may more betray our sense
+Than woman's lightness ? Having waste ground enough ,
+Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary ,
+And pitch our evils there ? O , fie , fie , fie !
+What dost thou , or what art thou , Angelo ?
+Dost thou desire her foully for those things
+That make her good ? O , let her brother live !
+Thieves for their robbery have authority
+When judges steal themselves . What ! do I love her ,
+That I desire to hear her speak again ,
+And feast upon her eyes ? What is't I dream on ?
+O cunning enemy , that , to catch a saint ,
+With saints dost bait thy hook ! Most dangerous
+Is that temptation that doth goad us on
+To sin in loving virtue : never could the strumpet ,
+With all her double vigour , art and nature ,
+Once stir my temper ; but this virtuous maid
+Subdues me quite . Ever till now ,
+When men were fond , I smil'd and wonder'd how .
+
+
+Hail to you , provost ! so I think you are .
+
+I am the provost . What's your will , good friar ?
+
+Bound by my charity and my bless'd order ,
+I come to visit the afflicted spirits
+Here in the prison : do me the common right
+To let me see them and to make me know
+The nature of their crimes , that I may minister
+To them accordingly .
+
+I would do more than that , if more were needful .
+Look , here comes one : a gentlewoman of mine ,
+Who , falling in the flaws of her own youth ,
+Hath blister'd her report . She is with child ,
+And he that got it , sentenc'd ; a young man
+More fit to do another such offence ,
+Than die for this .
+
+
+When must he die ?
+
+As I do think , to-morrow .
+
+
+I have provided for you : stay a while ,
+And you shall be conducted .
+
+Repent you , fair one , of the sin you carry ?
+
+I do , and bear the shame most patiently .
+
+I'll teach you how you shall arraign your conscience ,
+And try your penitence , if it be sound ,
+Or hollowly put on .
+
+I'll gladly learn .
+
+Love you the man that wrong'd you ?
+
+Yes , as I love the woman that wrong'd him .
+
+So then it seems your most offenceful act
+Was mutually committed ?
+
+Mutually .
+
+Then was your sin of heavier kind than his .
+
+I do confess it , and repent it , father .
+
+'Tis meet so , daughter : but lest you do repent ,
+As that the sin hath brought you to this shame ,
+Which sorrow is always toward ourselves , not heaven ,
+Showing we would not spare heaven as we love it ,
+But as we stand in fear ,
+
+I do repent me , as it is an evil ,
+And take the shame with joy .
+
+There rest .
+Your partner , as I hear , must die to-morrow ,
+And I am going with instruction to him .
+God's grace go with you ! Benedicite !
+
+
+Must die to-morrow ! O injurious love ,
+That respites me a life , whose very comfort
+Is still a dying horror !
+
+'Tis pity of him .
+
+
+When I would pray and think , I think and pray
+To several subjects : heaven hath my empty words ,
+Whilst my invention , hearing not my tongue ,
+Anchors on Isabel : heaven in my mouth ,
+As if I did but only chew his name ,
+And in my heart the strong and swelling evil
+Of my conception . The state , whereon I studied ,
+Is like a good thing , being often read ,
+Grown fear'd and tedious ; yea , my gravity ,
+Wherein , let no man hear me , I take pride ,
+Could I with boot change for an idle plume ,
+Which the air beats for vain . O place ! O form !
+How often dost thou with thy case , thy habit ,
+Wrench awe from fools , and tie the wiser souls
+To thy false seeming ! Blood , thou art blood :
+Let's write good angel on the devil's horn ,
+'Tis not the devil's crest .
+
+How now ! who's there ?
+
+One Isabel , a sister ,
+Desires access to you .
+
+Teach her the way .
+
+O heavens !
+Why does my blood thus muster to my heart ,
+Making both it unable for itself ,
+And dispossessing all my other parts
+Of necessary fitness ?
+So play the foolish throngs with one that swounds ;
+Come all to help him , and so stop the air
+By which he should revive : and even so
+The general , subject to a well-wish'd king ,
+Quit their own part , and in obsequious fondness
+Crowd to his presence , where their untaught love
+Must needs appear offence .
+
+How now , fair maid !
+
+I am come to know your pleasure .
+
+That you might know it , would much better please me ,
+Than to demand what 'tis . Your brother cannot live .
+
+Even so . Heaven keep your honour !
+
+Yet may he live awhile ; and , it may be ,
+As long as you or I : yet he must die .
+
+Under your sentence ?
+
+Yea .
+
+When , I beseech you ? that in his reprieve ,
+Longer or shorter , he may be so fitted
+That his soul sicken not .
+
+Ha ! fie , these filthy vices ! It were as good
+To pardon him that hath from nature stolen
+A man already made , as to remit
+Their saucy sweetness that do coin heaven's image
+In stamps that are forbid : 'tis all as easy
+Falsely to take away a life true made ,
+As to put metal in restrained means
+To make a false one .
+
+'Tis set down so in heaven , but not in earth .
+
+Say you so ? then I shall pose you quickly .
+Which had you rather , that the most just law
+Now took your brother's life ; or , to redeem him ,
+Give up your body to such sweet uncleanness
+As she that he hath stain'd ?
+
+Sir , believe this ,
+I had rather give my body than my soul .
+
+I talk not of your soul . Our compell'd sins
+Stand more for number than for accompt .
+
+How say you ?
+
+Nay , I'll not warrant that ; for I can speak
+Against the thing I say . Answer to this :
+I , now the voice of the recorded law ,
+Pronounce a sentence on your brother's life :
+Might there not be a charity in sin
+To save this brother's life ?
+
+Please you to do't ,
+I'll take it as a peril to my soul ;
+It is no sin at all , but charity .
+
+Pleas'd you to do't , at peril of your soul ,
+Were equal poise of sin and charity .
+
+That I do beg his life , if it be sin ,
+Heaven let me bear it ! you granting of my suit ,
+If that be sin , I'll make it my morn prayer
+To have it added to the faults of mine ,
+And nothing of your answer .
+
+Nay , but hear me .
+Your sense pursues not mine : either you are ignorant ,
+Or seem so craftily ; and that's not good .
+
+Let me be ignorant , and in nothing good ,
+But graciously to know I am no better .
+
+Thus wisdom wishes to appear most bright
+When it doth tax itself ; as these black masks
+Proclaim an enshield beauty ten times louder
+Than beauty could , display'd . But mark me ;
+To be received plain , I'll speak more gross :
+Your brother is to die .
+
+So .
+
+And his offence is so , as it appears
+Accountant to the law upon that pain .
+
+True .
+
+Admit no other way to save his life ,
+As I subscribe not that , nor any other ,
+But in the loss of question ,that you , his sister ,
+Finding yourself desir'd of such a person ,
+Whose credit with the judge , or own great place ,
+Could fetch your brother from the manacles
+Of the all-building law ; and that there were
+No earthly mean to save him , but that either
+You must lay down the treasures of your body
+To this suppos'd , or else to let him suffer ;
+What would you do ?
+
+As much for my poor brother , as myself :
+That is , were I under the terms of death ,
+Th' impression of keen whips I'd wear as rubies ,
+And strip myself to death , as to a bed
+That , longing , have been sick for , ere I'd yield
+My body up to shame .
+
+Then must your brother die .
+
+And 'twere the cheaper way :
+Better it were a brother died at once ,
+Than that a sister , by redeeming him ,
+Should die for ever .
+
+Were not you then as cruel as the sentence
+That you have slander'd so ?
+
+Ignomy in ransom and free pardon
+Are of two houses : lawful mercy
+Is nothing kin to foul redemption .
+
+You seem'd of late to make the law a tyrant ;
+And rather prov'd the sliding of your brother
+A merriment than a vice .
+
+O , pardon me , my lord ! it oft falls out ,
+To have what we would have , we speak not what we mean .
+I something do excuse the thing I hate ,
+For his advantage that I dearly love .
+
+We are all frail .
+
+Else let my brother die ,
+If not a feodary , but only he
+Owe and succeed thy weakness .
+
+Nay , women are frail too .
+
+Ay , as the glasses where they view themselves ,
+Which are as easy broke as they make forms .
+Women ! Help heaven ! men their creation mar
+In profiting by them . Nay , call us ten times frail ,
+For we are soft as our complexions are ,
+And credulous to false prints .
+
+I think it well :
+And from this testimony of your own sex ,
+Since I suppose we are made to be no stronger
+Than faults may shake our frames ,let me be bold ;
+I do arrest your words . Be that you are ,
+That is , a woman ; if you be more , you're none ;
+If you be one , as you are well express'd
+By all external warrants , show it now ,
+By putting on the destin'd livery .
+
+I have no tongue but one : gentle my lord ,
+Let me entreat you speak the former language .
+
+Plainly conceive , I love you .
+
+My brother did love Juliet ; and you tell me
+That he shall die for't .
+
+He shall not , Isabel , if you give me love .
+
+I know your virtue hath a licence in't .
+Which seems a little fouler than it is ,
+To pluck on others .
+
+Believe me , on mine honour ,
+My words express my purpose .
+
+Ha ! little honour to be much believ'd ,
+And most pernicious purpose ! Seeming , seeming !
+I will proclaim thee , Angelo ; look for't :
+Sign me a present pardon for my brother ,
+Or with an outstretch'd throat I'll tell the world aloud
+What man thou art .
+
+Who will believe thee , Isabel ?
+My unsoil'd name , the austereness of my life ,
+My vouch against you , and my place i' the state ,
+Will so your accusation overweigh ,
+That you shall stifle in your own report
+And smell of calumny . I have begun ;
+And now I give my sensual race the rein :
+Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite ;
+Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes ,
+That banish what they sue for ; redeem thy brother
+By yielding up thy body to my will ,
+Or else he must not only die the death ,
+But thy unkindness shall his death draw out
+To lingering sufferance . Answer me to-morrow ,
+Or , by the affection that now guides me most ,
+I'll prove a tyrant to him . As for you ,
+Say what you can , my false o'erweighs your true .
+
+
+To whom should I complain ? Did I tell this ,
+Who would believe me ? O perilous mouths !
+That bear in them one and the self-same tongue ,
+Either of condemnation or approof ,
+Bidding the law make curt'sy to their will ;
+Hooking both right and wrong to th' appetite ,
+To follow as it draws . I'll to my brother :
+Though he hath fallen by prompture of the blood ,
+Yet hath he in him such a mind of honour ,
+That , had he twenty heads to tender down
+On twenty bloody blocks , he'd yield them up ,
+Before his sister should her body stoop
+To such abhorr'd pollution .
+Then , Isabel , live chaste , and , brother , die :
+More than our brother is our chastity .
+I'll tell him yet of Angelo's request ,
+And fit his mind to death , for his soul's rest .
+
+So then you hope of pardon from Lord Angelo ?
+
+The miserable have no other medicine
+But only hope :
+I have hope to live , and am prepar'd to die .
+
+Be absolute for death ; either death or life
+Shall thereby be the sweeter . Reason thus with life :
+If I do lose thee , I do lose a thing
+That none but fools would keep : a breath thou art ,
+Servile to all the skyey influences ,
+That dost this habitation , where thou keep'st ,
+Hourly afflict . Merely , thou art death's fool ;
+For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun ,
+And yet run'st toward him still . Thou art not noble :
+For all th' accommodations that thou bear'st
+Are nurs'd by baseness . Thou art by no means valiant ;
+For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork
+Of a poor worm . Thy best of rest is sleep ,
+And that thou oft provok'st ; yet grossly fear'st
+Thy death , which is no more . Thou art not thyself ;
+For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains
+That issue out of dust . Happy thou art not ;
+For what thou hast not , still thou striv'st to get ,
+And what thou hast , forget'st . Thou art not certain ;
+For thy complexion shifts to strange effects ,
+After the moon . If thou art rich , thou'rt poor ;
+For , like an ass whose back with ingots bows ,
+Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey ,
+And death unloads thee . Friend hast thou none ;
+For thine own bowels , which do call thee sire ,
+The mere effusion of thy proper loins ,
+Do curse the gout , serpigo , and the rheum ,
+For ending thee no sooner . Thou hast nor youth nor age ;
+But , as it were , an after-dinner's sleep ,
+Dreaming on both ; for all thy blessed youth
+Becomes as aged , and doth beg the alms
+Of palsied eld ; and when thou art old and rich ,
+Thou hast neither heat , affection , limb , nor beauty ,
+To make thy riches pleasant . What's yet in this
+That bears the name of life ? Yet in this life
+Lie hid moe thousand deaths : yet death we fear ,
+That makes these odds all even .
+
+I humbly thank you .
+To sue to live , I find I seek to die ,
+And , seeking death , find life : let it come on .
+
+What ho ! Peace here ; grace and good company !
+
+Who's there ? come in : the wish deserves a welcome .
+
+Dear sir , ere long I'll visit you again .
+
+Most holy sir , I thank you .
+
+
+My business is a word or two with Claudio .
+
+And very welcome . Look , signior ; here's your sister .
+
+Provost , a word with you .
+
+As many as you please .
+
+Bring me to hear them speak , where I may be conceal'd .
+
+
+Now , sister , what's the comfort ?
+
+Why , as all comforts are ; most good , most good indeed .
+Lord Angelo , having affairs to heaven ,
+Intends you for his swift ambassador ,
+Where you shall be an everlasting leiger :
+Therefore , your best appointment make with speed ;
+To-morrow you set on .
+
+Is there no remedy ?
+
+None , but such remedy , as to save a head
+To cleave a heart in twain .
+
+But is there any ?
+
+Yes , brother , you may live :
+There is a devilish mercy in the judge ,
+If you'll implore it , that will free your life ,
+But fetter you till death .
+
+Perpetual durance ?
+
+Ay , just ; perpetual durance , a restraint ,
+Though all the world's vastidity you had ,
+To a determin'd scope .
+
+But in what nature ?
+
+In such a one as , you consenting to't ,
+Would bark your honour from that trunk you bear ,
+And leave you naked .
+
+Let me know the point .
+
+O , I do fear thee , Claudio ; and I quake ,
+Lest thou a feverous life shouldst entertain ,
+And six or seven winters more respect
+Than a perpetual honour . Dar'st thou die ?
+The sense of death is most in apprehension ,
+And the poor beetle , that we tread upon ,
+In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great
+As when a giant dies .
+
+Why give you me this shame ?
+Think you I can a resolution fetch
+From flowery tenderness ? If I must die ,
+I will encounter darkness as a bride ,
+And hug it in mine arms .
+
+There spake my brother : there my father's grave
+Did utter forth a voice . Yes , thou must die :
+Thou art too noble to conserve a life
+In base appliances . This outward-sainted deputy ,
+Whose settled visage and deliberate word
+Nips youth i' the head , and follies doth enmew
+As falcon doth the fowl , is yet a devil ;
+His filth within being cast , he would appear
+A pond as deep as hell .
+
+The prenzie Angelo ?
+
+O , 'tis the cunning livery of hell ,
+The damned'st body to invest and cover
+In prenzie guards ! Dost thou think , Claudio ?
+If I would yield him my virginity ,
+Thou mightst be freed .
+
+O heavens ! it cannot be .
+
+Yes , he would give't thee , from this rank offence ,
+So to offend him still . This night's the time
+That I should do what I abhor to name ,
+Or else thou diest to-morrow .
+
+Thou shalt not do't .
+
+O ! were it but my life ,
+I'd throw it down for your deliverance
+As frankly as a pin .
+
+Thanks , dear Isabel .
+
+Be ready , Claudio , for your death to-morrow .
+
+Yes . Has he affections in him ,
+That thus can make him bite the law by the nose ,
+When he would force it ? Sure , it is no sin ;
+Or of the deadly seven it is the least .
+
+Which is the least ?
+
+If it were damnable , he being so wise ,
+Why would he for the momentary trick
+Be perdurably fin'd ? O Isabel !
+
+What says my brother ?
+
+Death is a fearful thing .
+
+And shamed life a hateful .
+
+Ay , but to die , and go we know not where ;
+To lie in cold obstruction and to rot ;
+This sensible warm motion to become
+A kneaded clod ; and the delighted spirit
+To bathe in fiery floods , or to reside
+In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice ;
+To be imprison'd in the viewless winds ,
+And blown with restless violence round about
+The pendant world ; or to be worse than worst
+Of those that lawless and incertain thoughts
+Imagine howling : 'tis too horrible !
+The weariest and most loathed worldly life
+That age , ache , penury and imprisonment
+Can lay on nature is a paradise
+To what we fear of death .
+
+Alas ! alas !
+
+Sweet sister , let me live :
+What sin you do to save a brother's life ,
+Nature dispenses with the deed so far
+That it becomes a virtue .
+
+O you beast !
+O faithless coward ! O dishonest wretch !
+Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice ?
+Is't not a kind of incest , to take life
+From thine own sister's shame ? What should I think ?
+Heaven shield my mother play'd my father fair ;
+For such a warped slip of wilderness
+Ne'er issu'd from his blood . Take my defiance ;
+Die , perish ! Might but my bending down
+Reprieve thee from thy fate , it should proceed .
+I'll pray a thousand prayers for thy death ,
+No word to save thee .
+
+Nay , hear me , Isabel .
+
+O , fie , fie , fie !
+Thy sin's not accidental , but a trade .
+Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd :
+'Tis best that thou diest quickly .
+
+
+O hear me , Isabella .
+
+
+Vouchsafe a word , young sister , but one word .
+
+What is your will ?
+
+Might you dispense with your leisure , I would by and by have some speech with you : the satisfaction I would require is likewise your own benefit .
+
+I have no superfluous leisure : my stay must be stolen out of other affairs ; but I will attend you a while .
+
+Son , I have overheard what hath past between you and your sister . Angelo had never the purpose to corrupt her ; only he hath made an assay of her virtue to practise his judgment with the disposition of natures . She , having the truth of honour in her , hath made him that gracious denial which he is most glad to receive : I am confessor to Angelo , and I know this to be true ; therefore prepare yourself to death . Do not satisfy your resolution with hopes that are fallible : to-morrow you must die ; go to your knees and make ready .
+
+Let me ask my sister pardon . I am so out of love with life that I will sue to be rid of it .
+
+Hold you there : farewell .
+
+
+Provost , a word with you .
+
+What's your will , father ?
+
+That now you are come , you will be gone . Leave me awhile with the maid : my mind promises with my habit no loss shall touch her by my company .
+
+In good time .
+
+
+The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good : the goodness that is cheap in beauty makes beauty brief in goodness ; but grace , being the soul of your complexion , shall keep the body of it ever fair . The assault that Angelo hath made to you , fortune hath conveyed to my understanding ; and , but that frailty hath examples for his falling , I should wonder at Angelo . How would you do to content this substitute , and to save your brother ?
+
+I am now going to resolve him ; I had rather my brother die by the law than my son should be unlawfully born . But O , how much is the good duke deceived in Angelo ! If ever he return and I can speak to him . I will open my lips in vain , or discover his government .
+
+That shall not be much amiss : yet , as the matter now stands , he will avoid your accusation ; 'he made trial of you only .' Therefore , fasten your ear on my advisings : to the love I have in doing good a remedy presents itself . I do make myself believe that you may most uprighteously do a poor wronged lady a merited benefit , redeem your brother from the angry law , do no stain to your own gracious person , and much please the absent duke , if peradventure he shall ever return to have hearing of this business .
+
+Let me hear you speak further . I have spirit to do anything that appears not foul in the truth of my spirit .
+
+Virtue is bold , and goodness never fearful . Have you not heard speak of Mariana , the sister of Frederick , the great soldier who miscarried at sea ?
+
+I have heard of the lady , and good words went with her name .
+
+She should this Angelo have married ; was affianced to her by oath , and the nuptial appointed : between which time of the contract , and limit of the solemnity , her brother Frederick was wracked at sea , having in that perished vessel the dowry of his sister . But mark how heavily this befell to the poor gentlewoman : there she lost a noble and renowned brother , in his love toward her ever most kind and natural ; with him the portion and sinew of her fortune , her marriage-dowry with both , her combinate husband , this well-seeming Angelo .
+
+Can this be so ? Did Angelo so leave her ?
+
+Left her in her tears , and dried not one of them with his comfort ; swallowed his vows whole , pretending in her discoveries of dishonour : in few , bestowed her on her own lamentation , which she yet wears for his sake ; and he , a marble to her tears , is washed with them , but relents not .
+
+What a merit were it in death to take this poor maid from the world ! What corruption in this life , that it will let this man live ! But how out of this can she avail ?
+
+It is a rupture that you may easily heal ; and the cure of it not only saves your brother , but keeps you from dishonour in doing it .
+
+Show me how , good father .
+
+This forenamed maid hath yet in her the continuance of her first affection : his unjust unkindness , that in all reason should have quenched her love , hath , like an impediment in the current , made it more violent and unruly . Go you to Angelo : answer his requiring with a plausible obedience : agree with his demands to the point ; only refer yourself to this advantage , first , that your stay with him may not be long , that the time may have all shadow and silence in it , and the place answer to convenience . This being granted in course , and now follows all , we shall advise this wronged maid to stead up your appointment , go in your place ; if the encounter acknowledge itself hereafter , it may compel him to her recompense ; and here by this is your brother saved , your honour untainted , the poor Mariana advantaged , and the corrupt deputy scaled . The maid will I frame and make fit for his attempt . If you think well to carry this , as you may , the doubleness of the benefit defends the deceit from reproof . What think you of it ?
+
+The image of it gives me content already , and I trust it will grow to a most prosperous perfection .
+
+It lies much in your holding up . Haste you speedily to Angelo : if for this night he entreat you to his bed , give him promise of satisfaction . I will presently to St . Luke's ; there , at the moated grange , resides this dejected Mariana : at that place call upon me , and dispatch with Angelo , that it may be quickly .
+
+I thank you for this comfort . Fare you well , good father .
+
+
+Nay , if there be no remedy for it , but that you will needs buy and sell men and women like beasts , we shall have all the world drink brown and white bastard .
+
+O heavens ! what stuff is here ?
+
+'Twas never merry world , since , of two usuries , the merriest was put down , and the worser allowed by order of law a furred gown to keep him warm ; and furred with fox and lamb skins too , to signify that craft , being richer than innocency , stands for the facing .
+
+Come your way , sir . Bless you , good father friar .
+
+And you , good brother father . What offence hath this man made you , sir ?
+
+Marry , sir , he hath offended the law : and , sir , we take him to be a thief too , sir ; for we have found upon him , sir , a strange picklock , which we have sent to the deputy .
+
+Fie , sirrah : a bawd , a wicked bawd !
+The evil that thou causest to be done ,
+That is thy means to live . Do thou but think
+What 'tis to cram a maw or clothe a back
+From such a filthy vice : say to thyself ,
+From their abominable and beastly touches
+I drink , I eat , array myself , and live .
+Canst thou believe thy living is a life ,
+So stinkingly depending ? Go mend , go mend .
+
+Indeed , it does stink in some sort , sir ; but yet , sir , I would prove
+
+Nay , if the devil have given thee proofs for sin ,
+Thou wilt prove his . Take him to prison , officer ;
+Correction and instruction must both work
+Ere this rude beast will profit .
+
+He must before the deputy , sir ; he has given him warning . The deputy cannot abide a whoremaster : if he be a whoremonger , and comes before him , he were as good go a mile on his errand .
+
+That we were all , as some would seem to be ,
+From our faults , as faults from seeming , free !
+
+His neck will come to your waist ,a cord , sir .
+
+I spy comfort : I cry , bail . Here's a gentleman and a friend of mine .
+
+
+How now , noble Pompey ! What , at the wheels of C sar ? Art thou led in triumph ? What , is there none of Pygmalion's images , newly made woman , to he had now , for putting the hand in the pocket and extracting it clutched ? What reply ? ha ? What say'st thou to this tune , matter and method ? Is't not drowned i' the last rain , ha ? What sayest thou Trot ? Is the world as it was , man ? Which is the way ? Is it sad , and few words , or how ? The trick of it ?
+
+Still thus , and thus , still worse !
+
+How doth my dear morsel , thy mistress ? Procures she still , ha ?
+
+Troth , sir , she hath eaten up all her beef , and she is herself in the tub .
+
+Why , 'tis good ; it is the right of it ; it must be so : ever your fresh whore and your powdered bawd : an unshunned consequence ; it must be so . Art going to prison , Pompey ?
+
+Yes , faith , sir .
+
+Why , 'tis not amiss , Pompey . Farewell . Go , say I sent thee thither . For debt , Pompey ? or how ?
+
+For being a bawd , for being a bawd .
+
+Well , then , imprison him . If imprisonment be the due of a bawd , why , 'tis his right : bawd is he , doubtless , and of antiquity too ; bawd-born . Farewell , good Pompey . Commend me to the prison , Pompey . You will turn good husband now , Pompey ; you will keep the house .
+
+I hope , sir , your good worship will be my bail .
+
+No , indeed will I not , Pompey ; it is not the wear . I will pray , Pompey , to increase your bondage : if you take it not patiently , why , your mettle is the more . Adieu , trusty Pompey . Bless you , friar .
+
+And you .
+
+Does Bridget paint still , Pompey , ha ?
+
+Come your ways , sir ; come .
+
+You will not bail me then , sir ?
+
+Then , Pompey , nor now . What news abroad , friar ? What news ?
+
+Come your ways , sir ; come .
+
+Go to kennel , Pompey ; go .
+
+What news , friar , of the duke ?
+
+I know none . Can you tell me of any ?
+
+Some say he is with the Emperor of Russia ; other some , he is in Rome : but where is he , think you ?
+
+I know not where ; but wheresoever , I wish him well .
+
+It was a mad fantastical trick of him to steal from the state , and usurp the beggary he was never born to . Lord Angelo dukes it well in his absence ; he puts transgression to't .
+
+He does well in't .
+
+A little more lenity to lechery would do no harm in him : something too crabbed that way , friar .
+
+It is too general a vice , and severity must cure it .
+
+Yes , in good sooth , the vice is of a great kindred ; it is well allied ; but it is impossible to extirp it quite , friar , till eating and drinking be put down . They say this Angelo was not made by man and woman after this downright way of creation : is it true , think you ?
+
+How should he be made , then ?
+
+Some report a sea-maid spawn'd him ; some that he was begot between two stock-fishes . But it is certain that when he makes water his urine is congealed ice ; that I know to be true ; and he is a motion generative ; that's infallible .
+
+You are pleasant , sir , and speak apace .
+
+Why , what a ruthless thing is this in him , for the rebellion of a cod-piece to take away the life of a man ! Would the duke that is absent have done this ? Ere he would have hanged a man for the getting a hundred bastards , he would have paid for the nursing a thousand : he had some feeling of the sport ; he knew the service , and that instructed him to mercy .
+
+I never heard the absent duke much detected for women ; he was not inclined that way .
+
+O , sir , you are deceived .
+
+'Tis not possible .
+
+Who ? not the duke ? yes , your beggar of fifty , and his use was to put a ducat in her clack-dish ; the duke had crotchets in him . He would be drunk too ; that let me inform you .
+
+You do him wrong , surely .
+
+Sir , I was an inward of his . A shy fellow was the duke ; and , I believe I know the cause of his withdrawing .
+
+What , I prithee , might be the cause ?
+
+No , pardon ; 'tis a secret must be locked within the teeth and the lips ; but this I can let you understand , the greater file of the subject held the duke to be wise .
+
+Wise ! why , no question but he was .
+
+A very superficial , ignorant , unweighing fellow .
+
+Either this is envy in you , folly , or mistaking : the very stream of his life and the business he hath helmed must , upon a warranted need , give him a better proclamation . Let him be but testimonied in his own bringings forth , and he shall appear to the envious a scholar , a statesman and a soldier . Therefore you speak unskilfully ; or , if your knowledge be more , it is much darkened in your malice .
+
+Sir , I know him , and I love him .
+
+Love talks with better knowledge , and knowledge with dearer love .
+
+Come , sir , I know what I know .
+
+I can hardly believe that , since you know not what you speak . But , if ever the duke return ,as our prayers are he may ,let me desire you to make your answer before him : if it be honest you have spoke , you have courage to maintain it . I am bound to call upon you ; and , I pray you , your name ?
+
+Sir , my name is Lucio , well known to the duke .
+
+He shall know you better , sir , if I may live to report you .
+
+I fear you not .
+
+O ! you hope the duke will return no more , or you imagine me too unhurtful an opposite . But indeed I can do you little harm ; you'll forswear this again .
+
+I'll be hanged first : thou art deceived in me , friar . But no more of this . Canst thou tell if Claudio die to-morrow or no ?
+
+Why should he die , sir ?
+
+Why ? for filling a bottle with a tundish . I would the duke we talk of were returned again : this ungenitured agent will unpeople the province with continency ; sparrows must not build in his house-eaves , because they are lecherous . The duke yet would have dark deeds darkly answered ; he would never bring them to light : would he were returned ! Marry , this Claudio is condemned for untrussing . Farewell , good friar ; I prithee , pray for me . The duke , I say to thee again , would eat mutton on Fridays . He's not past it yet , and I say to thee , he would mouth with a beggar , though she smelt brown bread and garlic : say that I said so . Farewell .
+
+
+No might nor greatness in mortality
+Can censure 'scape : back-wounding calumny
+The whitest virtue strikes . What king so strong
+Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue ?
+But who comes here ?
+
+
+Go ; away with her to prison !
+
+Good my lord , be good to me ; your honour is accounted a merciful man ; good my lord .
+
+Double and treble admonition , and still forfeit in the same kind ? This would make mercy swear , and play the tyrant .
+
+A bawd of eleven years' continuance , may it please your honour .
+
+My lord , this is one Lucio's information against me . Mistress Kate Keepdown was with child by him in the duke's time ; he promised her marriage ; his child is a year and a quarter old , come Philip and Jacob : I have kept it myself , and see how he goes about to abuse me !
+
+That fellow is a fellow of much licence : let him be called before us . Away with her to prison ! Go to ; no more words .
+
+Provost , my brother Angelo will not be altered ; Claudio must die to-morrow . Let him be furnished with divines , and have all charitable preparation : if my brother wrought by my pity , it should not be so with him .
+
+So please you , this friar hath been with him , and advised him for the entertainment of death .
+
+Good even , good father .
+
+Bliss and goodness on you !
+
+Of whence are you ?
+
+Not of this country , though my chance is now
+To use it for my time : I am a brother
+Of gracious order , late come from the See ,
+In special business from his Holiness .
+
+What news abroad i' the world ?
+
+None , but there is so great a fever on goodness , that the dissolution of it must cure it : novelty is only in request ; and it is as dangerous to be aged in any kind of course , as it is virtuous to be constant in any undertaking : there is scarce truth enough alive to make societies secure , but security enough to make fellowships accursed . Much upon this riddle runs the wisdom of the world . This news is old enough , yet it is every day's news . I pray you , sir , of what disposition was the duke ?
+
+One that , above all other strifes , contended especially to know himself .
+
+What pleasure was he given to ?
+
+Rather rejoicing to see another merry , than merry at anything which professed to make him rejoice : a gentleman of all temperance . But leave we him to his events , with a prayer they may prove prosperous ; and let me desire to know how you find Claudio prepared . I am made to understand , that you have lent him visitation .
+
+He professes to have received no sinister measure from his judge , but most willingly humbles himself to the determination of justice ; yet had he framed to himself , by the instruction of his frailty , many deceiving promises of life , which I , by my good leisure have discredited to him , and now is he resolved to die .
+
+You have paid the heavens your function , and the prisoner the very debt of your calling . I have laboured for the poor gentleman to the extremest shore of my modesty ; but my brother justice have I found so severe , that he hath forced me to tell him he is indeed Justice .
+
+If his own life answer the straitness of his proceeding , it shall become him well ; wherein if he chance to fail , he hath sentenced himself .
+
+I am going to visit the prisoner . Fare you well .
+
+Peace be with you !
+
+He , who the sword of heaven will bear
+Should be as holy as severe ;
+Pattern in himself to know ,
+Grace to stand , and virtue go ;
+More nor less to others paying
+Than by self offences weighing .
+Shame to him whose cruel striking
+Kills for faults of his own liking !
+Twice treble shame on Angelo ,
+To weed my vice and let his grow !
+O , what may man within him hide ,
+Though angel on the outward side !
+How many likeness made in crimes ,
+Making practice on the times ,
+To draw with idle spiders' strings
+Most pond'rous and substantial things !
+Craft against vice I must apply :
+With Angelo to-night shall lie
+His old betrothed but despis'd :
+So disguise shall , by the disguis'd ,
+Pay with falsehood false exacting ,
+And perform an old contracting .
+
+Take , O take those lips away ,
+That so sweetly were forsworn ;
+And those eyes , the break of day ,
+Lights that do mislead the morn :
+But my kisses bring again ,
+bring again ,
+Seals of love , but seal'd in vain ,
+seal'd in vain .
+
+
+Break off thy song , and haste thee quick away :
+Here comes a man of comfort , whose advice
+Hath often still'd my brawling discontent .
+
+I cry you mercy , sir ; and well could wish
+You had not found me here so musical :
+Let me excuse me , and believe me so ,
+
+My mirth it much displeas'd , but pleas'd my woe .
+
+'Tis good ; though music oft hath such a charm
+To make bad good , and good provoke to harm .
+I pray you tell me , hath anybody inquired for me here to-day ? much upon this time have I promised here to meet .
+
+You have not been inquired after : I have sat here all day .
+
+I do constantly believe you . The time is come even now . I shall crave your forbearance a little ; may be I will call upon you anon , for some advantage to yourself .
+
+I am always bound to you .
+
+Very well met , and well come .
+What is the news from this good deputy ?
+
+He hath a garden circummur'd with brick ,
+Whose western side is with a vineyard back'd ;
+And to that vineyard is a planched gate ,
+That makes his opening with this bigger key ;
+This other doth command a little door
+Which from the vineyard to the garden leads ;
+There have I made my promise
+Upon the heavy middle of the night
+To call upon him .
+
+But shall you on your knowledge find this way ?
+
+I have ta'en a due and wary note upon't :
+With whispering and most guilty diligence ,
+In action all of precept , he did show me
+The way twice o'er .
+
+Are there no other tokens
+Between you 'greed concerning her observance ?
+
+No , none , but only a repair i' the dark ;
+And that I have possess'd him my most stay
+Can be but brief ; for I have made him know
+I have a servant comes with me along ,
+That stays upon me , whose persuasion is
+I come about my brother .
+
+'Tis well borne up .
+I have not yet made known to Mariana
+A word of this . What ho ! within ! come forth .
+
+
+I pray you , be acquainted with this maid ;
+
+She comes to do you good .
+
+I do desire the like .
+
+Do you persuade yourself that I respect you ?
+
+Good friar , I know you do , and oft have found it .
+
+Take then this your companion by the hand ,
+Who hath a story ready for your ear .
+I shall attend your leisure : but make haste ;
+The vaporous night approaches .
+
+Will't please you walk aside ?
+
+
+O place and greatness ! millions of false eyes
+Are stuck upon thee : volumes of report
+Run with these false and most contrarious quests
+Upon thy doings : thousand escapes of wit
+Make thee the father of their idle dream ,
+And rack thee in their fancies !
+
+Welcome ! How agreed ?
+
+She'll take the enterprise upon her , father ,
+If you advise it .
+
+It is not my consent ,
+But my entreaty too .
+
+Little have you to say
+When you depart from him , but , soft and low ,
+'Remember now my brother .'
+
+Fear me not .
+
+Nor , gentle daughter , fear you not at all .
+He is your husband on a pre-contract :
+To bring you thus together , 'tis no sin ,
+Sith that the justice of your title to him
+Doth flourish the deceit . Come , let us go :
+Our corn's to reap , for yet our tithe's to sow .
+
+
+Come hither , sirrah . Can you cut off a man's head ?
+
+If the man be a bachelor , sir , I can ; but if he be a married man , he is his wife's head , and I can never cut off a woman's head .
+
+Come , sir , leave me your snatches , and yield me a direct answer . To-morrow morning are to die Claudio and Barnardine . Here is in our prison a common executioner , who in his office lacks a helper : if you will take it on you to assist him , it shall redeem you from your gyves ; if not , you shall have your full time of imprisonment , and your deliverance with an unpitied whipping , for you have been a notorious bawd .
+
+Sir , I have been an unlawful bawd time out of mind ; but yet I will be content to be a lawful hangman . I would be glad to receive some instruction from my fellow partner .
+
+What ho , Abhorson ! Where's Abhorson , there ?
+
+
+Do you call , sir ?
+
+Sirrah , here's a fellow will help you to-morrow in your execution . If you think it meet , compound with him by the year , and let him abide here with you ; if not , use him for the present , and dismiss him . He cannot plead his estimation with you ; he hath been a bawd .
+
+A bawd , sir ? Fie upon him ! he will discredit our mystery .
+
+Go to , sir ; you weigh equally ; a feather will turn the scale .
+
+
+Pray , sir , by your good favour for surely , sir , a good favour you have , but that you have a hanging look ,do you call , sir , your occupation a mystery ?
+
+Ay , sir ; a mystery .
+
+Painting , sir , I have heard say , is a mystery ; and your whores , sir , being members of my occupation , using painting , do prove my occupation a mystery : but what mystery there should be in hanging , if I should be hanged , I cannot imagine .
+
+Sir , it is a mystery .
+
+Proof ?
+
+Every true man's apparel fits your thief .
+
+If it be too little for your thief , your true man thinks it big enough ; if it be too big for your thief , your thief thinks it little enough : so , every true man's apparel fits your thief .
+
+
+Are you agreed ?
+
+Sir , I will serve him ; for I do find that your hangman is a more penitent trade than your bawd , he doth often ask forgiveness .
+
+You , sirrah , provide your block and your axe to-morrow four o'clock .
+
+Come on , bawd ; I will instruct thee in my trade ; follow .
+
+I do desire to learn , sir ; and , I hope , if you have occasion to use me for your own turn , you shall find me yare ; for , truly , sir , for your kindness I owe you a good turn .
+
+Call hither Barnardine and Claudio :
+
+The one has my pity ; not a jot the other ,
+Being a murderer , though he were my brother .
+
+
+Look , here's the warrant , Claudio , for thy death :
+'Tis now dead midnight , and by eight to-morrow
+
+Thou must be made immortal . Where's Barnardine ?
+
+As fast lock'd up in sleep as guiltless labour
+When it lies starkly in the traveller's bones ;
+He will not wake .
+
+Who can do good on him ?
+Well , go ; prepare yourself .
+
+But hark , what noise ?
+Heaven give your spirits comfort !
+
+By and by .
+I hope it is some pardon or reprieve
+For the most gentle Claudio .
+
+Welcome , father .
+
+The best and wholesom'st spirits of the night
+Envelop you , good provost ! Who call'd here of late ?
+
+None since the curfew rung .
+
+Not Isabel ?
+
+No .
+
+They will , then , ere't be long .
+
+What comfort is for Claudio ?
+
+There's some in hope .
+
+It is a bitter deputy .
+
+Not so , not so : his life is parallel'd
+Even with the stroke and line of his great justice :
+He doth with holy abstinence subdue
+That in himself which he spurs on his power
+To qualify in others : were he meal'd with that
+Which he corrects , then were he tyrannous ;
+But this being so , he's just .
+
+Now are they come .
+
+This is a gentle provost : seldom when
+The steeled gaoler is the friend of men .
+
+How now ! What noise ? That spirit's possess'd with haste
+That wounds the unsisting postern with these strokes .
+
+
+There he must stay until the officer
+Arise to let him in ; he is call'd up .
+
+Have you no countermand for Claudio yet ,
+But he must die to-morrow ?
+
+None , sir , none .
+
+As near the dawning , provost , as it is ,
+You shall hear more ere morning .
+
+Happily
+You something know ; yet , I believe there comes
+No countermand : no such example have we .
+Besides , upon the very siege of justice ,
+Lord Angelo hath to the public ear
+Profess'd the contrary .
+
+This is his lordship's man .
+
+And here comes Claudio's pardon .
+
+My lord hath sent you this note ; and by me this further charge , that you swerve not from the smallest article of it , neither in time , matter , or other circumstance . Good morrow ; for , as I take it , it is almost day .
+
+I shall obey him .
+
+
+This is his pardon , purchased by such sin
+For which the pardoner himself is in ;
+Hence hath offence his quick celerity ,
+When it is borne in high authority .
+When vice makes mercy , mercy's so extended ,
+That for the fault's love is the offender friended .
+Now , sir , what news ?
+
+I told you ; Lord Angelo , belike thinking me remiss in mine office , awakens me with this unwonted putting on ; methinks strangely , for he hath not used it before .
+
+Pray you , let's hear .
+
+Whatsoever you may hear to the contrary , let Claudio be executed by four of the clock ; and , in the afternoon , Barnardine . For my better satisfaction , let me have Claudio's head sent me by five . Let this be duly performed ; with a thought that more depends on it than we must yet deliver . Thus fail not to do your office , as you will answer it at your peril .
+What say you to this , sir ?
+
+What is that Barnardine who is to be executed this afternoon ?
+
+A Bohemian born , but here nursed up and bred ; one that is a prisoner nine years old .
+
+How came it that the absent duke had not either delivered him to his liberty or executed him ? I have heard it was ever his manner to do so .
+
+His friends still wrought reprieves for him ; and , indeed , his fact , till now in the government of Lord Angelo , came not to an undoubtful proof .
+
+It is now apparent ?
+
+Most manifest , and not denied by himself .
+
+Hath he borne himself penitently in prison ? How seems he to be touched ?
+
+A man that apprehends death no more dreadfully but as a drunken sleep ; careless , reckless , and fearless of what's past , present , or to come ; insensible of mortality , and desperately mortal .
+
+He wants advice .
+
+He will hear none . He hath evermore had the liberty of the prison : give him leave to escape hence , he would not : drunk many times a day , if not many days entirely drunk . We have very oft awaked him , as if to carry him to execution , and showed him a seeming warrant for it : it hath not moved him at all .
+
+More of him anon . There is written in your brow , provost , honesty and constancy ; if I read it not truly , my ancient skill beguiles me ; but , in the boldness of my cunning I will lay myself in hazard . Claudio , whom here you have warrant to execute , is no greater forfeit to the law than Angalo who hath sentenced him . To make you understand this in a manifested effect , I crave but four days' respite , for the which you are to do me both a present and a dangerous courtesy .
+
+Pray , sir , in what ?
+
+In the delaying death .
+
+Alack ! how may I do it , having the hour limited , and an express command , under penalty , to deliver his head in the view of Angelo ? I may make my case as Claudio's to cross this in the smallest .
+
+By the vow of mine order I warrant you , if my instructions may be your guide . Let this Barnardine be this morning executed , and his head borne to Angelo .
+
+Angelo hath seen them both , and will discover the favour .
+
+O ! death's a great disguiser , and you may add to it . Shave the head , and tie the beard ; and say it was the desire of the penitent to be so bared before his death : you know the course is common . If anything fall to you upon this , more than thanks and good fortune , by the saint whom I profess , I will plead against it with my life .
+
+Pardon me , good father ; it is against my oath .
+
+Were you sworn to the duke or to the deputy ?
+
+To him , and to his substitutes .
+
+You will think you have made no offence , if the duke avouch the justice of your dealing ?
+
+But what likelihood is in that ?
+
+Not a resemblance , but a certainty . Yet since I see you fearful , that neither my coat , integrity , nor persuasion can with ease attempt you , I will go further than I meant , to pluck all fears out of you . Look you , sir ; here is the hand and seal of the duke : you know the character , I doubt not , and the signet is not strange to you .
+
+I know them both .
+
+The contents of this is the return of the duke : you shall anon over-read if at your pleasure , where you shall find within these two days , he will be here . This is a thing that Angelo knows not , for he this very day receives letters of strange tenour ; perchance of the duke's death ; perchance , his entering into some monastery ; but , by chance , nothing of what is writ . Look , the unfolding star calls up the shepherd . Put not yourself into amazement how these things should be : all difficulties are but easy when they are known . Call your executioner , and off with Barnardine's head : I will give him a present shrift and advise him for a better place . Yet you are amaz'd , but this shall absolutely resolve you . Come away ; it is almost clear dawn .
+
+
+I am as well acquainted here as I was in our house of profession : one would think it were Mistress Overdone's own house , for here be many of her old customers . First , here's young Master Rash ; he's in for a commodity of brown paper and old ginger , nine-score and seventeen pounds , of which he made five marks , ready money : marry , then ginger was not much in request , for the old women were all dead . Then is there here one Master Caper , at the suit of Master Three-pile the mercer , for some four suits of peach-colour'd satin , which now peaches him a beggar . Then have we young Dizy , and young Master Deep-vow , and Master Copperspur , and Master Starve-lackey the rapier and dagger man , and young Drop-heir that kill'd lusty Pudding , and Master Forthlight , the tilter , and brave Master Shoe-tie the great traveller , and wild Half-can that stabbed Pots , and , I think , forty more ; all great doers in our trade , and are now 'for the Lord's sake .'
+
+
+Sirrah , bring Barnardine hither .
+
+Master Barnardine ! you must rise and be hanged , Master Barnardine .
+
+What ho ! Barnardine !
+
+A pox o' your throats !
+Who makes that noise there ? What are you ?
+
+Your friends , sir ; the hangman . You must be so good , sir , to rise and be put to death .
+
+Away ! you rogue , away !
+I am sleepy .
+
+Tell him he must awake , and that quickly too .
+
+Pray , Master Barnardine , awake till you are executed , and sleep afterwards .
+
+Go in to him , and fetch him out .
+
+He is coming , sir , he is coming ; I hear his straw rustle .
+
+Is the axe upon the block , sirrah ?
+
+Very ready , sir .
+
+
+How now , Abhorson ! what's the news with you ?
+
+Truly , sir , I would desire you to clap into your prayers ; for , look you , the warrant's come .
+
+You rogue , I have been drinking all night ; I am not fitted for't .
+
+O , the better , sir ; for he that drinks all night , and is hang'd betimes in the morning , may sleep the sounder all the next day .
+
+Look you , sir ; here comes your ghostly father : do we jest now , think you ?
+
+
+Sir , induced by my charity , and hearing how hastily you are to depart , I am come to advise you , comfort you , and pray with you .
+
+Friar , not I : I have been drinking hard all night , and I will have more time to prepare me , or they shall beat out my brains with billets . I will not consent to die this day , that's certain .
+
+O , sir , you must ; and therefore , I beseech you look forward on the journey you shall go .
+
+I swear I will not die to-day for any man's persuasion .
+
+But hear you .
+
+Not a word : if you have anything to say to me , come to my ward ; for thence will not I to day .
+
+Unfit to live or die . O , gravel heart !
+After him fellows : bring him to the block .
+
+
+Now , sir , how do you find the prisoner ?
+
+A creature unprepar'd , unmeet for death ;
+And , to transport him in the mind he is
+Were damnable .
+
+Here in the prison , father ,
+There died this morning of a cruel fever
+One Ragozine , a most notorious pirate ,
+A man of Claudio's years ; his beard and head
+Just of his colour . What if we do omit
+This reprobate till he were well inclin'd ,
+And satisfy the deputy with the visage
+Of Ragozine , more like to Claudio ?
+
+O , 'tis an accident that heaven provides !
+Dispatch it presently : the hour draws on
+Prefix'd by Angelo . See this be done ,
+And sent according to command , whiles I
+Persuade this rude wretch willingly to die .
+
+This shall be done , good father , presently .
+But Barnardine must die this afternoon :
+And how shall we continue Claudio ,
+To save me from the danger that might come
+If he were known alive ?
+
+Let this be done :
+Put them in secret holds , both Barnardine and Claudio :
+Ere twice the sun hath made his journal greeting
+To the under generation , you shall find
+Your safety manifested .
+
+I am your free dependant .
+
+Quick , dispatch ,
+And send the head to Angelo .
+
+Now will I write letters to Angelo ,
+The provost , he shall bear them ,whose contents
+Shall witness to him I am near at home ,
+And that , by great injunctions , I am bound
+To enter publicly : him I'll desire
+To meet me at the consecrated fount
+A league below the city ; and from thence ,
+By cold gradation and well-balanc'd form ,
+We shall proceed with Angelo .
+
+
+Here is the head ; I'll carry it myself .
+
+Convenient is it . Make a swift return ,
+For I would commune with you of such things
+That want no ear but yours .
+
+I'll make all speed .
+
+
+Peace , ho , be here !
+
+The tongue of Isabel . She's come to know
+If yet her brother's pardon be come hither ;
+But I will keep her ignorant of her good ,
+To make her heavenly comforts of despair ,
+When it is least expected .
+
+
+Ho ! by your leave .
+
+Good morning to you , fair and gracious daughter .
+
+The better , given me by so holy a man .
+Hath yet the deputy sent my brother's pardon ?
+
+He hath releas'd him , Isabel , from the world :
+His head is off and sent to Angelo .
+
+Nay , but it is not so .
+
+It is no other : show your wisdom , daughter ,
+In your close patience .
+
+O ! I will to him and pluck out his eyes !
+
+You shall not be admitted to his sight .
+
+Unhappy Claudio ! Wretched Isabel !
+Injurious world ! Most damned Angelo !
+
+This nor hurts him nor profits you a jot ;
+Forbear it therefore ; give your cause to heaven .
+Mark what I say , which you shall find
+By every syllable a faithful verity .
+The duke comes home to-morrow ; nay , dry your eyes :
+One of our covent , and his confessor ,
+Gives me this instance : already he hath carried
+Notice to Escalus and Angelo ,
+Who do prepare to meet him at the gates ,
+There to give up their power . If you can , pace your wisdom
+In that good path that I would wish it go ,
+And you shall have your bosom on this wretch ,
+Grace of the Duke , revenges to your heart ,
+And general honour .
+
+I am directed by you .
+
+This letter then to Friar Peter give ;
+'Tis that he sent me of the duke's return :
+Say , by this token , I desire his company
+At Mariana's house to-night . Her cause and yours ,
+I'll perfect him withal , and he shall bring you
+Before the duke ; and to the head of Angelo
+Accuse him home , and home . For my poor self ,
+I am combined by a sacred vow
+And shall be absent . Wend you with this letter .
+Command these fretting waters from your eyes
+With a light heart : trust not my holy order ,
+If I pervert your course . Who's here ?
+
+
+Good even . Friar , where is the provost ?
+
+Not within , sir .
+
+O pretty Isabella , I am pale at mine heart to see thine eyes so red : thou must be patient . I am fain to dine and sup with water and bran ; I dare not for my head fill my belly ; one fruitful meal would set me to't . But they say the duke will be here to-morrow . By my troth , Isabel , I loved thy brother : if the old fantastical duke of dark corners had been at home , he had lived .
+
+
+Sir , the duke is marvellous little beholding to your reports ; but the best is , he lives not in them .
+
+Friar , thou knowest not the duke so well as I do : he's a better woodman than thou takest him for .
+
+Well , you'll answer this one day .
+Fare ye well .
+
+Nay , tarry ; I'll go along with thee : I can tell thee pretty tales of the duke .
+
+You have told me too many of him already , sir , if they be true ; if not true , none were enough .
+
+I was once before him for getting a wench with child .
+
+Did you such a thing ?
+
+Yes , marry , did I ; but I was fain to forswear it : they would else have married me to the rotten medlar .
+
+Sir , your company is fairer than honest .
+Rest you well .
+
+By my troth , I'll go with thee to the lane's end . If bawdy talk offend you , we'll have very little of it . Nay , friar , I am a kind of burr ; I shall stick .
+
+
+Every letter he hath writ hath disvouched other .
+
+In most uneven and distracted manner .
+His actions show much like to madness : pray heaven his wisdom be not tainted ! And why meet him at the gates , and redeliver our authorities there ?
+
+I guess not .
+
+And why should we proclaim it in an hour before his entering , that if any crave redress of injustice , they should exhibit their petitions in the street ?
+
+He shows his reason for that : to have a dispatch of complaints , and to deliver us from devices hereafter , which shall then have no power to stand against us .
+
+Well , I beseech you , let it be proclaim'd :
+Betimes i' the morn I'll call you at your house ;
+Give notice to such men of sort and suit
+As are to meet him .
+
+I shall , sir : fare you well .
+
+Good night .
+
+This deed unshapes me quite , makes me unpregnant
+And dull to all proceedings . A deflower'd maid ,
+And by an eminent body that enforc'd
+The law against it ! But that her tender shame
+Will not proclaim against her maiden loss ,
+How might she tongue me ! Yet reason dares her no :
+For my authority bears so credent bulk ,
+That no particular scandal once can touch :
+But it confounds the breather . He should have liv'd ,
+Save that his riotous youth , with dangerous sense ,
+Might in the times to come have ta'en revenge ,
+By so receiving a dishonour'd life
+With ransom of such shame . Would yet he had liv'd !
+Alack ! when once our grace we have forgot ,
+Nothing goes right : we would , and we would not .
+
+
+These letters at fit time deliver me .
+
+The provost knows our purpose and our plot .
+The matter being afoot , keep your instruction ,
+And hold you ever to our special drift ,
+Though sometimes you do blench from this to that ,
+As cause doth minister . Go call at Flavius' house ,
+And tell him where I stay : give the like notice
+To Valentinus , Rowland , and to Crassus ,
+And bid them bring the trumpets to the gate ;
+But send me Flavius first .
+
+It shall be speeded well .
+
+I thank thee , Varrius ; thou hast made good haste .
+Come , we will walk . There's other of our friends
+Will greet us here anon , my gentle Varrius .
+
+
+To speak so indirectly I am loath :
+I would say the truth ; but to accuse him so ,
+That is your part : yet I'm advis'd to do it ;
+He says , to veil full purpose .
+
+Be rul'd by him .
+
+Besides , he tells me that if peradventure
+He speak against me on the adverse side ,
+I should not think it strange ; for 'tis a physic
+That's bitter to sweet end .
+
+I would , Friar Peter
+
+O , peace ! the friar is come .
+
+
+Come ; I have found you out a stand most fit ,
+Where you may have such vantage on the duke ,
+He shall not pass you . Twice have the trumpets sounded :
+The generous and gravest citizens
+Have hent the gates , and very near upon
+The duke is ent'ring : therefore hence , away !
+
+My very worthy cousin , fairly met !
+Our old and faithful friend , we are glad to see you .
+
+Happy return be to your royal Grace !
+
+Happy return be to your royal Grace !
+
+Many and hearty thankings to you both .
+We have made inquiry of you ; and we hear
+Such goodness of your justice , that our soul
+Cannot but yield you forth to public thanks ,
+Forerunning more requital .
+
+You make my bonds still greater .
+
+O ! your desert speaks loud ; and I should wrong it ,
+To lock it in the wards of covert bosom ,
+When it deserves , with characters of brass ,
+A forted residence 'gainst the tooth of time
+And razure of oblivion . Give me your hand ,
+And let the subject see , to make them know
+That outward courtesies would fain proclaim
+Favours that keep within . Come , Escalus ,
+You must walk by us on our other hand ;
+And good supporters are you .
+
+
+Now is your time : speak loud and kneel before him .
+
+Justice , O royal duke ! Vail your regard
+Upon a wrong'd , I'd fain have said , a maid !
+O worthy prince ! dishonour not your eye
+By throwing it on any other object
+Till you have heard me in my true complaint
+And given me justice , justice , justice , justice !
+
+Relate your wrongs : in what ? by whom ? Be brief ;
+Here is Lord Angelo , shall give you justice :
+Reveal yourself to him .
+
+O worthy duke !
+You bid me seek redemption of the devil .
+Hear me yourself ; for that which I must speak
+Must either punish me , not being believ'd ,
+Or wring redress from you . Hear me , O , hear me , here !
+
+My lord , her wits , I fear me , are not firm :
+She hath been a suitor to me for her brother
+Cut off by course of justice ,
+
+By course of justice !
+
+And she will speak most bitterly and strange .
+
+Most strange , but yet most truly , will I speak .
+That Angelo's forsworn , is it not strange ?
+That Angelo's a murderer , is't not strange ?
+That Angelo is an adulterous thief ,
+A hypocrite , a virgin-violator ;
+Is it not strange , and strange ?
+
+Nay , it is ten times strange .
+
+It is not truer he is Angelo
+Than this is all as true as it is strange ;
+Nay , it is ten times true ; for truth is truth
+To the end of reckoning .
+
+Away with her ! poor soul ,
+She speaks this in the infirmity of sense .
+
+O prince , I conjure thee , as thou believ'st
+There is another comfort than this world ,
+That thou neglect me not , with that opinion
+That I am touch'd with madness . Make not impossible
+That which but seems unlike . 'Tis not impossible
+But one , the wicked'st caitiff on the ground ,
+May seem as shy , as grave , as just , as absolute
+As Angelo ; even so may Angelo ,
+In all his dressings , characts , titles , forms ,
+Be an arch-villain . Believe it , royal prince :
+If he be less , he's nothing ; but he's more ,
+Had I more name for badness .
+
+By mine honesty ,
+If she be mad ,as I believe no other ,
+Her madness hath the oddest frame of sense ,
+Such a dependency of thing on thing ,
+As e'er I heard in madness .
+
+O gracious duke !
+Harp not on that ; nor do not banish reason
+For inequality ; but let your reason serve
+To make the truth appear where it seems hid ,
+And hide the false seems true .
+
+Many that are not mad
+Have , sure , more lack of reason . What would you say ?
+
+I am the sister of one Claudio ,
+Condemn'd upon the act of fornication
+To lose his head ; condemn'd by Angelo .
+I , in probation of a sisterhood ,
+Was sent to by my brother ; one Lucio
+As then the messenger ,
+
+That's I , an't like your Grace :
+I came to her from Claudio , and desir'd her
+To try her gracious fortune with Lord Angelo
+For her poor brother's pardon .
+
+That's he indeed .
+
+You were not bid to speak .
+
+No , my good lord ;
+Nor wish'd to hold my peace .
+
+I wish you now , then ;
+Pray you , take note of it ; and when you have
+A business for yourself , pray heaven you then
+Be perfect .
+
+I warrant your honour .
+
+The warrant's for yourself : take heed to it .
+
+This gentleman told somewhat of my tale ,
+
+Right .
+
+It may be right ; but you are in the wrong
+To speak before your time . Proceed .
+
+I went
+To this pernicious caitiff deputy .
+
+That's somewhat madly spoken .
+
+Pardon it ;
+The phrase is to the matter .
+
+Mended again : the matter ; proceed .
+
+In brief , to set the needless process by ,
+How I persuaded , how I pray'd , and kneel'd ,
+How he refell'd me , and how I replied ,
+For this was of much length ,the vile conclusion
+I now begin with grief and shame to utter .
+He would not , but by gift of my chaste body
+To his concupiscible intemperate lust ,
+Release my brother ; and , after much debatement ,
+My sisterly remorse confutes mine honour ,
+And I did yield to him . But the next morn betimes ,
+His purpose surfeiting , he sends a warrant
+For my poor brother's head .
+
+This is most likely !
+
+O , that it were as like as it is true !
+
+By heaven , fond wretch ! thou know'st not what thou speak'st ,
+Or else thou art suborn'd against his honour
+In hateful practice . First , his integrity
+Stands without blemish ; next , it imports no reason
+That with such vehemency he should pursue
+Faults proper to himself : if he had so offended ,
+He would have weigh'd thy brother by himself ,
+And not have cut him off . Some one hath set you on :
+Confess the truth , and say by whose advice
+Thou cam'st here to complain .
+
+And is this all ?
+Then , O you blessed ministers above ,
+Keep me in patience ; and , with ripen'd time
+Unfold the evil which is here wrapt up
+In countenance ! Heaven shield your Grace from woe ,
+As I , thus wrong'd , hence unbelieved go !
+
+I know you'd fain be gone . An officer !
+To prison with her ! Shall we thus permit
+A blasting and a scandalous breath to fall
+On him so near us ? This needs must be a practice .
+Who knew of your intent and coming hither ?
+
+One that I would were here , Friar Lodowick .
+
+A ghostly father , belike . Who knows that Lodowick ?
+
+My lord , I know him ; 'tis a meddling friar ;
+I do not like the man : had he been lay , my lord ,
+For certain words he spake against your Grace
+In your retirement , I had swing'd him soundly .
+
+Words against me ! This' a good friar , belike !
+And to set on this wretched woman here
+Against our substitute ! Let this friar be found .
+
+But yesternight , my lord , she and that friar ,
+I saw them at the prison : a saucy friar ,
+A very scurvy fellow .
+
+Bless'd be your royal Grace !
+I have stood by , my lord , and I have heard
+Your royal ear abus'd . First , hath this woman
+Most wrongfully accus'd your substitute ,
+Who is as free from touch or soil with her ,
+As she from one ungot .
+
+We did believe no less .
+Know you that Friar Lodowick that she speaks of ?
+
+I know him for a man divine and holy ;
+Not scurvy , nor a temporary meddler ,
+As he's reported by this gentleman ;
+And , on my trust , a man that never yet
+Did , as he vouches , misreport your Grace .
+
+My lord , most villanously ; believe it .
+
+Well ; he in time may come to clear himself ,
+But at this instant he is sick , my lord ,
+Of a strange fever . Upon his mere request ,
+Being come to knowledge that there was complaint
+Intended 'gainst Lord Angelo , came I hither ,
+To speak , as from his mouth , what he doth know
+Is true and false ; and what he with his oath
+And all probation will make up full clear ,
+Whensoever he's convented . First , for this woman ,
+To justify this worthy nobleman ,
+So vulgarly and personally accus'd ,
+Her shall you hear disproved to her eyes ,
+Till she herself confess it .
+
+Good friar , let's hear it .
+
+Do you not smile at this , Lord Angelo ?
+O heaven , the vanity of wretched fools !
+Give us some seats . Come , cousin Angelo ;
+In this I'll be impartial ; be you judge
+Of your own cause . Is this the witness , friar ?
+First , let her show her face , and after speak .
+
+Pardon , my lord ; I will not show my face
+Until my husband bid me .
+
+What , are you married ?
+
+No , my lord .
+
+Are you a maid ?
+
+No , my lord .
+
+A widow , then ?
+
+Neither , my lord .
+
+Why , you
+Are nothing , then : neither maid , widow , nor wife ?
+
+My lord , she may be a punk ; for many of them are neither maid , widow , nor wife .
+
+Silence that fellow : I would he had some cause
+To prattle for himself .
+
+Well , my lord .
+
+My lord , I do confess I ne'er was married ;
+And I confess besides I am no maid :
+I have known my husband yet my husband knows not
+That ever he knew me .
+
+He was drunk then my lord : it can be no better .
+
+For the benefit of silence , would thou wert so too !
+
+Well , my lord .
+
+This is no witness for Lord Angelo .
+
+Now I come to't , my lord :
+She that accuses him of fornication ,
+In self-same manner doth accuse my husband ;
+And charges him , my lord , with such a time ,
+When , I'll depose , I had him in mine arms ,
+With all th' effect of love .
+
+Charges she moe than me ?
+
+Not that I know .
+
+No ? you say your husband .
+
+Why , just , my lord , and that is Angelo ,
+Who thinks he knows that he ne'er knew my body
+But knows he thinks that he knows Isabel's .
+
+This is a strange abuse . Let's see thy face .
+
+My husband bids me ; now I will unmask .
+
+This is that face , thou cruel Angelo ,
+Which once thou swor'st was worth the looking on :
+This is the hand which , with a vow'd contract ,
+Was fast belock'd in thine : this is the body
+That took away the match from Isabel ,
+And did supply thee at thy garden-house
+In her imagin'd person .
+
+Know you this woman ?
+
+Carnally , she says .
+
+Sirrah , no more !
+
+Enough , my lord .
+
+My lord , I must confess I know this woman ;
+And five years since there was some speech of marriage
+Betwixt myself and her , which was broke off ,
+Partly for that her promised proportions
+Came short of composition ; but , in chief
+For that her reputation was disvalu'd
+In levity : since which time of five years
+I never spake with her , saw her , nor heard from her ,
+Upon my faith and honour .
+
+Noble prince ,
+As there comes light from heaven and words from breath ,
+As there is sense in truth and truth in virtue ,
+I am affianc'd this man's wife as strongly
+As words could make up vows : and , my good lord ,
+But Tuesday night last gone in 's garden-house
+He knew me as a wife . As this is true ,
+Let me in safety raise me from my knees
+Or else for ever be confixed here ,
+A marble monument .
+
+I did but smile till now :
+Now , good my lord , give me the scope of justice ;
+My patience here is touch'd . I do perceive
+These poor informal women are no more
+But instruments of some more mightier member
+That sets them on . Let me have way , my lord ,
+To find this practice out .
+
+Ay , with my heart ;
+And punish them unto your height of pleasure .
+Thou foolish friar , and thou pernicious woman ,
+Compact with her that's gone , think'st thou thy oaths ,
+Though they would swear down each particular saint ,
+Were testimonies against his worth and credit
+That's seal'd in approbation ? You , Lord Escalus ,
+Sit with my cousin ; lend him your kind pains
+To find out this abuse , whence 'tis deriv'd .
+There is another friar that set them on ;
+Let him be sent for .
+
+Would he were here , my lord ; for he indeed
+Hath set the women on to this complaint :
+Your provost knows the place where he abides
+And he may fetch him .
+
+Go do it instantly .
+
+And you , my noble and well-warranted cousin ,
+Whom it concerns to hear this matter forth ,
+Do with your injuries as seems you best ,
+In any chastisement : I for awhile will leave you ;
+But stir not you , till you have well determin'd
+Upon these slanderers .
+
+My lord , we'll do it throughly .
+
+Signior Lucio , did not you say you knew that
+Friar Lodowick to be a dishonest person ?
+
+Cucullus non facit monachum : honest in nothing , but in his clothes ; and one that hath spoke most villanous speeches of the duke .
+
+We shall entreat you to abide here till he come and enforce them against him . We shall find this friar a notable fellow .
+
+As any in Vienna , on my word .
+
+Call that same Isabel here once again :
+I would speak with her .
+
+
+Pray you , my lord , give me leave to question ; you shall see how I'll handle her .
+
+Not better than he , by her own report .
+
+Say you ?
+
+Marry , sir , I think , if you handled her privately , she would sooner confess : perchance , publicly , she'll be ashamed .
+
+I will go darkly to work with her .
+
+That's the way : for women are light at midnight .
+
+
+Come on , mistress : here's a gentlewoman denies all that you have said .
+
+My lord , here comes the rascal I spoke of ; here with the provost .
+
+In very good time : speak not you to him , till we call upon you .
+
+
+Mum .
+
+Come , sir . Did you set these women on to slander Lord Angelo ? they have confessed you did .
+
+'Tis false .
+
+How ! know you where you are ?
+
+Respect to your great place ! and let the devil
+Be sometime honour'd for his burning throne .
+Where is the duke ? 'tis he should hear me speak .
+
+The duke's in us , and we will hear you speak :
+Look you speak justly .
+
+Boldly , at least . But , O , poor souls !
+Come you to seek the lamb here of the fox ?
+Good night to your redress ! Is the duke gone ?
+Then is your cause gone too . The duke's unjust ,
+Thus to retort your manifest appeal ,
+And put your trial in the villain's mouth
+Which here you come to accuse .
+
+This is the rascal : this is he I spoke of .
+
+Why , thou unreverend and unhallow'd friar !
+Is't not enough thou hast suborn'd these women
+To accuse this worthy man , but , in foul mouth ,
+And in the witness of his proper ear ,
+To call him villain ?
+And then to glance from him to the duke himself .
+To tax him with injustice ? take him hence ;
+To the rack with him ! We'll touse you joint by joint ,
+But we will know his purpose . What ! 'unjust' ?
+
+Be not so hot ; the duke
+Dare no more stretch this finger of mine than he
+Dare rack his own : his subject am I not ,
+Nor here provincial . My business in this state
+Made me a looker-on here in Vienna ,
+Where I have seen corruption boil and bubble
+Till it o'er-run the stew : laws for all faults ,
+But faults so countenanc'd , that the strong statutes
+Stand like the forfeits in a barber's shop ,
+As much in mock as mark .
+
+Slander to the state ! Away with him to prison !
+
+What can you vouch against him , Signior Lucio ?
+Is this the man that you did tell us of ?
+
+'Tis he , my lord . Come hither , goodman bald-pate : do you know me ?
+
+I remember you , sir , by the sound of your voice : I met you at the prison , in the absence of the duke .
+
+O ! did you so ? And do you remember what you said of the duke ?
+
+Most notedly , sir .
+
+Do you so , sir ? And was the duke a flesh-monger , a fool , and a coward , as you then reported him to be ?
+
+You must , sir , change persons with me , ere you make that my report : you , indeed , spoke so of him ; and much more , much worse .
+
+O thou damnable fellow ! Did not I pluck thee by the nose for thy speeches ?
+
+I protest I love the duke as I love myself .
+
+Hark how the villain would close now , after his treasonable abuses !
+
+Such a fellow is not to be talk'd withal .
+Away with him to prison ! Where is the provost ?
+Away with him to prison ! Lay bolts enough on him , let him speak no more . Away with those giglots too , and with the other confederate companion !
+
+
+Stay , sir ; stay awhile .
+
+What ! resists he ? Help him , Lucio .
+
+Come , sir ; come , sir ; come , sir ; foh ! sir . Why , you bald-pated , lying rascal , you must be hooded , must you ? show your knave's visage , with a pox to you ! show your sheepbiting face , and be hanged an hour ! Will't not off ?
+
+
+Thou art the first knave that e'er made a duke .
+First , provost , let me bail these gentle three .
+
+
+Sneak not away , sir ; for the friar and you
+Must have a word anon . Lay hold on him .
+
+This may prove worse than hanging .
+
+What you have spoke I pardon ; sit you down :
+We'll borrow place of him .
+
+Sir , by your leave .
+Hast thou or word , or wit , or impudence ,
+That yet can do thee office ? If thou hast ,
+Rely upon it till my tale be heard ,
+And hold no longer out .
+
+O my dread lord !
+I should be guiltier than my guiltiness ,
+To think I can be undiscernible
+When I perceive your Grace , like power divine ,
+Hath look'd upon my passes . Then , good prince ,
+No longer session hold upon my shame ,
+But let my trial be mine own confession :
+Immediate sentence then and sequent death
+Is all the grace I beg .
+
+Come hither , Mariana ,
+Say , wast thou e'er contracted to this woman ?
+
+I was , my lord .
+
+Go take her hence , and marry her instantly .
+Do you the office , friar ; which consummate ,
+Return him here again . Go with him , provost .
+
+
+My lord , I am more amaz'd at his dishonour
+Than at the strangeness of it .
+
+Come hither , Isabel .
+Your friar is now your prince : as I was then
+Advertising and holy to your business ,
+Not changing heart with habit , I am still
+Attorney'd at your service .
+
+O , give me pardon ,
+That I , your vassal , have employ'd and pain'd
+Your unknown sovereignty !
+
+You are pardon'd , Isabel :
+And now , dear maid , be you as free to us .
+Your brother's death , I know , sits at your heart ;
+And you may marvel why I obscur'd myself ,
+Labouring to save his life , and would not rather
+Make rash remonstrance of my hidden power
+Than let him so be lost . O most kind maid !
+It was the swift celerity of his death ,
+Which I did think with slower foot came on ,
+That brain'd my purpose : but , peace be with him !
+That life is better life , past fearing death ,
+Than that which lives to fear : make it your comfort ,
+So happy is your brother .
+
+I do , my lord .
+
+
+For this new-married man approaching here ,
+Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong'd
+Your well-defended honour , you must pardon
+For Mariana's sake . But as he adjudg'd your brother ,
+Being criminal , in double violation
+Of sacred chastity , and of promise-breach ,
+Thereon dependent , for your brother's life ,
+The very mercy of the law cries out
+Most audible , even from his proper tongue ,
+'An Angelo for Claudio , death for death !'
+Haste still pays haste , and leisure answers leisure ,
+Like doth quit like , and Measure still for Measure .
+Then , Angelo , thy fault's thus manifested ,
+Which , though thou wouldst deny , denies thee vantage .
+We do condemn thee to the very block
+Where Claudio stoop'd to death , and with like haste .
+Away with him !
+
+O , my most gracious lord !
+I hope you will not mock me with a husband .
+
+It is your husband mock'd you with a husband .
+Consenting to the safeguard of your honour ,
+I thought your marriage fit ; else imputation ,
+For that he knew you , might reproach your life
+And choke your good to come . For his possessions ,
+Although by confiscation they are ours ,
+We do instate and widow you withal ,
+To buy you a better husband .
+
+O my dear lord !
+I crave no other , nor no better man .
+
+Never crave him ; we are definitive .
+
+Gentle my liege ,
+
+You do but lose your labour .
+Away with him to death !
+
+Now , sir , to you .
+
+O my good lord ! Sweet Isabel , take my part :
+Lend me your knees , and , all my life to come ,
+I'll lend you all my life to do you service ,
+
+Against all sense you do importune her :
+Should she kneel down in mercy of this fact ,
+Her brother's ghost his paved bed would break ,
+And take her hence in horror .
+
+Isabel ,
+Sweet Isabel , do yet but kneel by me :
+Hold up your hands , say nothing , I'll speak all .
+They say best men are moulded out of faults ,
+And , for the most , become much more the better
+For being a little bad : so may my husband .
+O , Isabel ! will you not lend a knee ?
+
+He dies for Claudio's death .
+
+Most bounteous sir ,
+Look , if it please you , on this man condemn'd ,
+As if my brother liv'd . I partly think
+A due sincerity govern'd his deeds ,
+Till he did look on me : since it is so ,
+Let him not die . My brother had but justice ,
+In that he did the thing for which he died :
+For Angelo ,
+His act did not o'ertake his bad intent ;
+And must be buried but as an intent
+That perish'd by the way . Thoughts are no subjects ;
+Intents but merely thoughts .
+
+Merely , my lord .
+
+Your suit's unprofitable : stand up , I say .
+I have bethought me of another fault .
+Provost , how came it Claudio was beheaded
+At an unusual hour ?
+
+It was commanded so .
+
+Had you a special warrant for the deed ?
+
+No , my good lord ; it was by private message .
+
+For which I do discharge you of your office :
+Give up your keys .
+
+Pardon me , noble lord :
+I thought it was a fault , but knew it not ,
+Yet did repent me , after more advice ;
+For testimony whereof , one in the prison ,
+That should by private order else have died
+I have reserv'd alive .
+
+What's he ?
+
+His name is Barnardine .
+
+I would thou hadst done so by Claudio .
+Go , fetch him hither : let me look upon him .
+
+
+I am sorry , one so learned and so wise
+As you , Lord Angelo , have still appear'd ,
+Should slip so grossly , both in the heat of blood ,
+And lack of temper'd judgment afterward .
+
+I am sorry that such sorrow I procure ;
+And so deep sticks it in my penitent heart
+That I crave death more willingly than mercy :
+'Tis my deserving , and I do entreat it .
+
+
+Which is that Barnardine ?
+
+This , my lord .
+
+There was a friar told me of this man .
+Sirrah , thou art said to have a stubborn soul ,
+That apprehends no further than this world ,
+And squar'st thy life according . Thou'rt condemn'd :
+But , for those earthly faults , I quit them all ,
+And pray thee take this mercy to provide
+For better times to come . Friar , advise him :
+I leave him to your hand .What muffled fellow's that ?
+
+This is another prisoner that I sav'd ,
+That should have died when Claudio lost his head ,
+As like almost to Claudio as himself .
+
+
+If he be like your brother , for his sake
+Is he pardon'd ; and , for your lovely sake
+Give me your hand and say you will be mine ,
+He is my brother too . But fitter time for that .
+By this , Lord Angelo perceives he's safe :
+Methinks I see a quickening in his eye .
+Well , Angelo , your evil quits you well :
+Look that you love your wife ; her worth worth yours .
+I find an apt remission in myself ,
+And yet here's one in place I cannot pardon .
+
+
+You , sirrah , that knew me for a fool , a coward ,
+One all of luxury , an ass , a madman :
+Wherein have I so deserv'd of you ,
+That you extol me thus ?
+
+'Faith , my lord , I spoke it but according to the trick . If you will hang me for it , you may ; but I had rather it would please you I might be whipped .
+
+Whipp'd first , sir , and hang'd after .
+Proclaim it , provost , round about the city ,
+If any woman's wrong'd by this lewd fellow ,
+As I have heard him swear himself there's one
+Whom he begot with child , let her appear ,
+And he shall marry her : the nuptial finish'd ,
+Let him be whipp'd and hang'd .
+
+I beseech your highness , do not marry me to a whore . Your highness said even now , I made you a duke : good my lord , do not recompense me in making me a cuckold .
+
+Upon mine honour , thou shalt marry her .
+Thy slanders I forgive ; and therewithal
+Remit thy other forfeits . Take him to prison ,
+And see our pleasure herein executed .
+
+Marrying a punk , my lord , is pressing to death , whipping , and hanging .
+
+Slandering a prince deserves it .
+She , Claudio , that you wrong'd , look you restore .
+Joy to you , Mariana ! love her , Angelo :
+I have confess'd her and I know her virtue .
+Thanks , good friend Escalus , for thy much goodness :
+There's more behind that is more gratulate .
+Thanks , provost , for thy care and secrecy ;
+We shall employ thee in a worthier place .
+Forgive him , Angelo , that brought you home
+The head of Ragozine for Claudio's :
+The offence pardons itself . Dear Isabel ,
+I have a motion much imports your good ;
+Whereto if you'll a willing ear incline ,
+What's mine is yours , and what is yours is mine .
+So , bring us to our palace ; where we'll show
+What's yet behind , that's meet you all should know .
+
+MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING
+
+I learn in this letter that Don Pedro of Arragon comes this night to Messina .
+
+He is very near by this : he was not three leagues off when I left him .
+
+How many gentlemen have you lost in this action ?
+
+But few of any sort , and none of name .
+
+A victory is twice itself when the achiever brings home full numbers . I find here that Don Pedro hath bestowed much honour on a young Florentine called Claudio .
+
+Much deserved on his part and equally remembered by Don Pedro . He hath borne himself beyond the promise of his age , doing in the figure of a lamb the feats of a lion : he hath indeed better bettered expectation than you must expect of me to tell you how .
+
+He hath an uncle here in Messina will be very much glad of it .
+
+I have already delivered him letters , and there appears much joy in him ; even so much that joy could not show itself modest enough without a badge of bitterness .
+
+Did he break out into tears ?
+
+In great measure .
+
+A kind overflow of kindness . There are no faces truer than those that are so washed : how much better is it to weep at joy than to joy at weeping !
+
+I pray you is Signior Mountanto returned from the wars or no ?
+
+I know none of that name , lady : there was none such in the army of any sort .
+
+What is he that you ask for , niece ?
+
+My cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua .
+
+O ! he is returned , and as pleasant as ever he was .
+
+He set up his bills here in Messina and challenged Cupid at the flight ; and my uncle's fool , reading the challenge , subscribed for Cupid , and challenged him at the bird-bolt . I pray you , how many hath he killed and eaten in these wars ? But how many hath he killed ? for , indeed , I promised to eat all of his killing .
+
+Faith , niece , you tax Signior Benedick too much ; but he'll be meet with you , I doubt it not .
+
+He hath done good service , lady , in these wars .
+
+You had musty victual , and he hath holp to eat it : he is a very valiant trencherman ; he hath an excellent stomach .
+
+And a good soldier too , lady .
+
+And a good soldier to a lady ; but what is he to a lord ?
+
+A lord to a lord , a man to a man , stuffed with all honourable virtues .
+
+It is so , indeed ; he is no less than a stuffed man ; but for the stuffing ,well , we are all mortal .
+
+You must not , sir , mistake my niece There is a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick and her : they never meet but there's a skirmish of wit between them .
+
+Alas ! he gets nothing by that . In our last conflict four of his five wits went halting off , and now is the whole man governed with one ! so that if he have wit enough to keep himself warm , let him bear it for a difference between himself and his horse ; for it is all the wealth that he hath left to be known a reasonable creature . Who is his companion now ? He hath every month a new sworn brother .
+
+Is't possible ?
+
+Very easily possible : he wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat ; it ever changes with the next block .
+
+I see , lady , the gentleman is not in your books .
+
+No ; an he were , I would burn my study . But , I pray you , who is his companion ? Is there no young squarer now that will make a voyage with him to the devil ?
+
+He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio .
+
+O Lord ! he will hang upon him like a disease : he is sooner caught than the pestilence , and the taker runs presently mad . God help the noble Claudio ! if he have caught the Benedick , it will cost him a thousand pound ere a' be cured .
+
+I will hold friends with you , lady .
+
+Do , good friend .
+
+You will never run mad , niece .
+
+No , not till a hot January .
+
+Don Pedro is approached .
+
+
+Good Signior Leonato , you are come to meet your trouble : the fashion of the world is to avoid cost , and you encounter it .
+
+Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of your Grace , for trouble being gone , comfort should remain ; but when you depart from me , sorrow abides and happiness takes his leave .
+
+You embrace your charge too willingly . I think this is your daughter .
+
+Her mother hath many times told me so .
+
+Were you in doubt , sir , that you asked her ?
+
+Signior Benedick , no ; for then you were a child .
+
+You have it full , Benedick : we may guess by this what you are , being a man . Truly , the lady fathers herself . Be happy , lady , for you are like an honourable father .
+
+If Signior Leonato be her father , she would not have his head on her shoulders for all Messina , as like him as she is .
+
+I wonder that you will still be talking , Signior Benedick : nobody marks you .
+
+What ! my dear Lady Disdain , are you yet living ?
+
+Is it possible Disdain should die while she hath such meet food to feed it as Signior Benedick ? Courtesy itself must convert to disdain , if you come in her presence .
+
+Then is courtesy a turncoat . But it is certain I am loved of all ladies , only you excepted ; and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart ; for , truly , I love none .
+
+A dear happiness to women : they would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor . I thank God and my cold blood , I am of your humour for that : I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me .
+
+God keep your ladyship still in that mind ; so some gentleman or other shall scape a predestinate scratched face .
+
+Scratching could not make it worse , an 'twere such a face as yours were .
+
+Well , you are a rare parrot-teacher .
+
+A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours .
+
+I would my horse had the speed of your tongue , and so good a continuer . But keep your way , i' God's name ; I have done .
+
+You always end with a jade's trick : I know you of old .
+
+This is the sum of all , Leonato : Signior Claudio , and Signior Benedick , my dear friend Leonato hath invited you all . I tell him we shall stay here at the least a month , and he heartily prays some occasion may detain us longer : I dare swear he is no hypocrite , but prays from his heart .
+
+If you swear , my lord , you shall not be forsworn .
+
+Let me bid you welcome , my lord : being reconciled to the prince your brother , I owe you all duty .
+
+I thank you : I am not of many words , but I thank you .
+
+Please it your Grace lead on ?
+
+Your hand , Leonato ; we will go together .
+
+
+Benedick , didst thou note the daughter of Signior Leonato ?
+
+I noted her not ; but I looked on her .
+
+Is she not a modest young lady ?
+
+Do you question me , as an honest man should do , for my simple true judgment ; or would you have me speak after my custom , as being a professed tyrant to their sex ?
+
+No ; I pray thee speak in sober judgment .
+
+Why , i' faith , methinks she's too low for a high praise , too brown for a fair praise , and too little for a great praise : only this commendation I can afford her , that were she other than she is , she were unhandsome , and being no other but as she is , I do not like her .
+
+Thou thinkest I am in sport : I pray thee tell me truly how thou likest her .
+
+Would you buy her , that you inquire after her ?
+
+Can the world buy such a jewel ?
+
+Yea , and a case to put it into . But speak you this with a sad brow , or do you play the flouting Jack , to tell us Cupid is a good hare-finder , and Vulcan a rare carpenter ? Come , in what key shall a man take you , to go in the song ?
+
+In mine eye she is the sweetest lady that ever I looked on .
+
+I can see yet without spectacles and I see no such matter : there's her cousin an she were not possessed with a fury , exceeds her as much in beauty as the first of May doth the last of December . But I hope you have no intent to turn husband , have you ?
+
+I would scarce trust myself , though I had sworn to the contrary , if Hero would be my wife .
+
+Is't come to this , i' faith ? Hath not the world one man but he will wear his cap with suspicion ? Shall I never see a bachelor of three-score again ? Go to , i' faith ; an thou wilt needs thrust thy neck into a yoke , wear the print of it , and sigh away Sundays . Look ! Don Pedro is returned to seek you .
+
+
+What secret hath held you here , that you followed not to Leonato's ?
+
+I would your Grace would constrain me to tell .
+
+I charge thee on thy allegiance .
+
+You hear , Count Claudio : I can be secret as a dumb man ; I would have you think so ; but on my allegiance , mark you this , on my allegiance : he is in love . With who ? now that is your Grace's part . Mark how short his answer is : with Hero , Leonato's short daughter .
+
+If this were so , so were it uttered .
+
+Like the old tale , my lord : 'it is not so , nor 'twas not so ; but , indeed , God forbid it should be so .'
+
+If my passion change not shortly , God forbid it should be otherwise .
+
+Amen , if you love her ; for the lady is very well worthy .
+
+You speak this to fetch me in , my lord .
+
+By my troth , I speak my thought .
+
+And in faith , my lord , I spoke mine .
+
+And by my two faiths and troths , my lord , I spoke mine .
+
+That I love her , I feel .
+
+That she is worthy , I know .
+
+That I neither feel how she should be loved nor know how she should be worthy , is the opinion that fire cannot melt out of me : I will die in it at the stake .
+
+Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in the despite of beauty .
+
+And never could maintain his part but in the force of his will .
+
+That a woman conceived me , I thank her ; that she brought me up , I likewise give her most humble thanks : but that I will have a recheat winded in my forehead , or hang my bugle in an invisible baldrick , all women shall pardon me . Because I will not do them the wrong to mistrust any , I will do myself the right to trust none ; and the fine is ,for the which I may go the finer ,I will live a bachelor .
+
+I shall see thee , ere I die , look pale with love .
+
+With anger , with sickness , or with hunger , my lord ; not with love : prove that ever I lose more blood with love than I will get again with drinking , pick out mine eyes with a ballad-maker's pen , and hang me up at the door of a brothel-house for the sign of blind Cupid .
+
+Well , if ever thou dost fall from this faith , thou wilt prove a notable argument .
+
+If I do , hang me in a bottle like a cat and shoot at me ; and he that hits me , let him be clapped on the shoulder , and called Adam .
+
+Well , as time shall try :
+'In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke .'
+
+The savage bull may ; but if ever the sensible Benedick bear it , pluck off the bull's horns and set them in my forehead ; and let me be vilely painted , and in such great letters as they write , 'Here is good horse to hire ,' let them signify under my sign 'Here you may see Benedick the married man .'
+
+If this should ever happen , thou wouldst be horn-mad .
+
+Nay , if Cupid have not spent all his quiver in Venice , thou wilt quake for this shortly .
+
+I look for an earthquake too then .
+
+Well , you will temporize with the hours . In the meantime , good Signior Benedick , repair to Leonato's : commend me to him and tell him I will not fail him at supper ; for indeed he hath made great preparation .
+
+I have almost matter enough in me for such an embassage ; and so I commit you
+
+To the tuition of God : from my house , if I had it ,
+
+The sixth of July : your loving friend , Benedick .
+
+Nay , mock not , mock not . The body of your discourse is sometime guarded with fragments , and the guards are but slightly basted on neither : ere you flout old ends any further , examine your conscience : and so I leave you .
+
+
+My liege , your highness now may do me good .
+
+My love is thine to teach : teach it but how ,
+And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn
+Any hard lesson that may do thee good .
+
+Hath Leonato any son , my lord ?
+
+No child but Hero ; she's his only heir .
+Dost thou affect her , Claudio ?
+
+O ! my lord ,
+When you went onward on this ended action ,
+I looked upon her with a soldier's eye ,
+That lik'd , but had a rougher task in hand
+Than to drive liking to the name of love ;
+But now I am return'd , and that war-thoughts
+Have left their places vacant , in their rooms
+Come thronging soft and delicate desires ,
+All prompting me how fair young Hero is ,
+Saying , I lik'd her ere I went to wars .
+
+Thou wilt be like a lover presently ,
+And tire the hearer with a book of words .
+If thou dost love fair Hero , cherish it ,
+And I will break with her , and with her father ,
+And thou shalt have her . Was't not to this end
+That thou began'st to twist so fine a story ?
+
+How sweetly do you minister to love ,
+That know love's grief by his complexion !
+But lest my liking might too sudden seem ,
+I would have salv'd it with a longer treatise .
+
+What need the bridge much broader than the flood ?
+The fairest grant is the necessity .
+Look , what will serve is fit : 'tis once , thou lov'st ,
+And I will fit thee with the remedy .
+I know we shall have revelling to-night :
+I will assume thy part in some disguise ,
+And tell fair Hero I am Claudio ;
+And in her bosom I'll unclasp my heart ,
+And take her hearing prisoner with the force
+And strong encounter of my amorous tale :
+Then , after to her father will I break ;
+And the conclusion is , she shall be thine .
+In practice let us put it presently .
+
+
+How now , brother ! Where is my cousin , your son ? Hath he provided this music ?
+
+He is very busy about it . But , brother , I can tell you strange news that you yet dreaint not of .
+
+Are they good ?
+
+As the event stamps them : but they have a good cover ; they show well outward . The prince and Count Claudio , walking in a thick-pleached alley in my orchard , were thus much overheard by a man of mine : the prince discovered to Claudio that he loved my niece your daughter , and meant to acknowledge it this night in a dance ; and , if he found her accordant , he meant to take the present time by the top and instantly break with you of it .
+
+Hath the fellow any wit that told you this ?
+
+A good sharp fellow : I will send for him ; and question him yourself .
+
+No , no ; we will hold it as a dream till it appear itself : but I will acquaint my daughter withal , that she may be the better prepared for an answer , if peradventure this be true . Go you , and tell her of it .
+
+Cousins , you know what you have to do . O ! I cry you mercy , friend ; go you with me , and I will use your skill . Good cousin , have a care this busy time .
+
+
+What the good-year , my lord ! why are you thus out of measure sad ?
+
+There is no measure in the occasion that breeds ; therefore the sadness is without limit .
+
+You should hear reason .
+
+And when I have heard it , what blessing brings it ?
+
+It not a present remedy , at least a patient sufferance .
+
+I wonder that thou , being ,as thou say'st thou art ,born under Saturn , goest about to apply a moral medicine to a mortifying mischief . I cannot hide what I am : I must be sad when I have cause , and smile at no man's jests ; eat when I have stomach , and wait for no man's leisure ; sleep when I am drowsy , and tend on no man's business ; laugh when I am merry , and claw no man in his humour .
+
+Yea ; but you must not make the full show of this till you may do it without controlment . You have of late stood out against your brother , and he hath ta'en you newly into his grace ; where it is impossible you should take true root but by the fair weather that you make yourself : it is needful that you frame the season for your own harvest .
+
+I had rather be a canker in a hedge than a rose in his grace ; and it better fits my blood to be disdained of all than to fashion a carriage to rob love from any : in this , though I cannot be said to be a flattering honest man , it must not be denied but I am a plain-dealing villain . I am trusted with a muzzle and enfranchised with a clog ; therefore I have decreed not to sing in my cage . If I had my mouth , I would bite ; if I had my liberty , I would do my liking : in the meantime , let me be that I am , and seek not to alter me .
+
+Can you make no use of your discontent ?
+
+I make all use of it , for I use it only . Who comes here ?
+
+What news , Borachio ?
+
+I came yonder from a great supper : the prince , your brother , is royally entertained by Leonato ; and I can give you intelligence of an intended marriage .
+
+Will it serve for any model to build mischief on ? What is he for a fool that betroths himself to unquietness ?
+
+Marry , it is your brother's right hand .
+
+Who ? the most exquisite Claudio ?
+
+Even he .
+
+A proper squire ! And who , and who ? which way looks he ?
+
+Marry , on Hero , the daughter and heir of Leonato .
+
+A very forward March-chick ! How came you to this ?
+
+Being entertained for a perfumer , as I was smoking a musty room , comes me the prince and Claudio , hand in hand , in sad conference : I whipt me behind the arras , and there heard it agreed upon that the prince should woo Hero for himself , and having obtained her , give her to Count Claudio .
+
+Come , come ; let us thither : this may prove food to my displeasure . That young start-up hath all the glory of my overthrow : if I can cross him any way , I bless myself every way . You are both sure , and will assist me ?
+
+To the death , my lord .
+
+To the death , my lord .
+
+Let us to the great supper : their cheer is the greater that I am subdued . Would the cook were of my mind ! Shall we go prove what's to be done ?
+
+We'll wait upon your lordship .
+
+Was not Count John here at supper ?
+
+I saw him not .
+
+How tartly that gentleman looks ! I never can see him but I am heart-burned an hour after .
+
+He is of a very melancholy disposition .
+
+He were an excellent man that were made just in the mid-way between him and Benedick : the one is too like an image , and says nothing ; and the other too like my lady's eldest son , evermore tattling .
+
+Then half Signior Benedick's tongue in Count John's mouth , and half Count John's melancholy in Signior Benedick's face ,
+
+With a good leg and a good foot , uncle , and money enough in his purse , such a man would win any woman in the world , if a' could get her good will .
+
+By my troth , niece , thou wilt never get thee a husband , if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue .
+
+In faith , she's too curst .
+
+Too curst is more than curst : I shall lessen God's sending that way ; for it is said , 'God sends a curst cow short horns ;' but to a cow too curst he sends none .
+
+So , by being too curst , God will send you no horns ?
+
+Just , if he send me no husband ; for the which blessing I am at him upon my knees every morning and evening . Lord ! I could not endure a husband with a beard on his face : I had rather lie in the woollen .
+
+You may light on a husband that hath no beard .
+
+What should I do with him ? dress him in my apparel and make him my waiting-gentlewoman ? He that hath a beard is more than a youth , and he that hath no beard is less than a man ; and he that is more than a youth is not for me ; and he that is less than a man , I am not for him : therefore I will even take sixpence in earnest of the bear-ward , and lead his apes into hell .
+
+Well then , go you into hell ?
+
+No ; but to the gate ; and there will the devil meet me , like an old cuckold , with horns on his head , and say , 'Get you to heaven , Beatrice , get you to heaven ; here's no place for you maids :' so deliver I up my apes , and away to Saint Peter for the heavens ; he shows me where the bachelors sit , and there live we as merry as the day is long .
+
+Well , niece , I trust you will be ruled by your father .
+
+Yes , faith ; it is my cousin's duty to make curtsy , and say , 'Father , as it please you :' but yet for all that , cousin , let him be a handsome fellow , or else make another curtsy , and say , 'Father , as it please me .'
+
+Well , niece , I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband .
+
+Not till God make men of some other metal than earth . Would it not grieve a woman to be over-mastered with a piece of valiant dust ? to make an account of her life to a clod of wayward marl ? No , uncle , I'll none : Adam's sons are my brethren ; and truly , I hold it a sin to match in my kindred .
+
+Daughter , remember what I told you : if the prince do solicit you in that kind , you know your answer .
+
+The fault will be in the music , cousin , if you be not wooed in good time : if the prince be too important , tell him there is measure in everything , and so dance out the answer . For , hear me , Hero : wooing , wedding , and repenting , is as a Scotch jig , a measure , and a cinque-pace : the first suit is hot and hasty , like a Scotch jig , and full as fantastical ; the wedding , mannerly-modest , as a measure , full of state and ancientry ; and then comes Repentance , and , with his bad legs , falls into the cinque-pace faster and faster , till he sink into his grave .
+
+Cousin , you apprehend passing shrewdly .
+
+I have a good eye , uncle : I can see a church by daylight .
+
+The revellers are entering , brother : make good room .
+
+Lady , will you walk about with your friend ?
+
+So you walk softly and look sweetly and say nothing , I am yours for the walk ; and especially when I walk away .
+
+With me in your company ?
+
+I may say so , when I please .
+
+And when please you to say so ?
+
+When I like your favour ; for God defend the lute should be like the case !
+
+My visor is Philemon's roof ; within the house is Jove .
+
+Why , then , your visor should be thatch'd .
+
+Speak low , if you speak love .
+
+
+Well , I would you did like me .
+
+So would not I , for your own sake ; for I have many ill qualities .
+
+Which is one ?
+
+I say my prayers aloud .
+
+I love you the better ; the hearers may cry Amen .
+
+God match me with a good dancer !
+
+Amen .
+
+And God keep him out of my sight when the dance is done ! Answer , clerk .
+
+No more words : the clerk is answered .
+
+I know you well enough : you are Signior Antonio .
+
+At a word , I am not .
+
+I know you by the waggling of your head .
+
+To tell you true , I counterfeit him .
+
+You could never do him so ill-well , unless you were the very man . Here's his dry hand up and down : you are he , you are he .
+
+At a word , I am not .
+
+Come , come ; do you think I do not know you by your excellent wit ? Can virtue hide itself ? Go to , mum , you are he : graces will appear , and there's an end .
+
+Will you not tell me who told you so ?
+
+No , you shall pardon me .
+
+Nor will you not tell me who you are ?
+
+Not now .
+
+That I was disdainful , and that I had my good wit out of the 'Hundred Merry Tales .' Well , this was Signior Benedick that said so .
+
+What's he ?
+
+I am sure you know him well enough .
+
+Not I , believe me .
+
+Did he never make you laugh ?
+
+I pray you , what is he ?
+
+Why , he is the prince's jester : a very dull fool ; only his gift is in devising impossible slanders : none but libertines delight in him ; and the commendation is not in his wit , but in his villany ; for he both pleases men and angers them , and then they laugh at him and beat him . I am sure he is in the fleet : I would he had boarded me !
+
+When I know the gentleman , I'll tell him what you say .
+
+Do , do : he'll but break a comparison or two on me ; which , peradventure not marked or not laughed at , strikes him into melancholy ; and then there's a partridge wing saved , for the fool will eat no supper that night .
+
+We must follow the leaders .
+
+In every good thing .
+
+Nay , if they lead to any ill , I will leave them at the next turning .
+
+
+Sure my brother is amorous on Hero , and hath withdrawn her father to break with him about it . The ladies follow her and but one visor remains .
+
+And that is Claudio : I know him by his bearing .
+
+Are you not Signior Benedick ?
+
+You know me well ; I am he .
+
+Signior , you are very near my brother in his love : he is enamoured on Hero ; I pray you , dissuade him from her ; she is no equal for his birth : you may do the part of an honest man in it .
+
+How know you he loves her ?
+
+I heard him swear his affection .
+
+So did I too ; and he swore he would marry her to-night .
+
+Come , let us to the banquet .
+
+
+Thus answer I in name of Benedick ,
+But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio .
+'Tis certain so ; the prince woos for himself .
+Friendship is constant in all other things
+Save in the office and affairs of love :
+Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues ;
+Let every eye negotiate for itself
+And trust no agent ; for beauty is a witch
+Against whose charms faith melteth into blood .
+This is an accident of hourly proof ,
+Which I mistrusted not . Farewell , therefore , Hero !
+
+
+Count Claudio ?
+
+Yea , the same .
+
+Come , will you go with me ?
+
+Whither ?
+
+Even to the next willow , about your own business , count . What fashion will you wear the garland of ? About your neck , like a usurer's chain ? or under your arm , like a lieutenant's scarf ? You must wear it one way , for the prince hath got your Hero .
+
+I wish him joy of her .
+
+Why , that's spoken like an honest drovier : so they sell bullocks . But did you think the prince would have served you thus ?
+
+I pray you , leave me .
+
+Ho ! now you strike like the blind man : 'twas the boy that stole your meat , and you'll beat the post .
+
+If it will not be , I'll leave you .
+
+
+Alas ! poor hurt fowl . Now will he creep into sedges . But , that my lady Beatrice should know me , and not know me ! The prince's fool ! Ha ! it may be I go under that title because I am merry . Yea , but so I am apt to do myself wrong ; I am not so reputed : it is the base though bitter disposition of Beatrice that puts the world into her person , and so gives me out . Well , I'll be revenged as I may .
+
+
+Now , signior , where's the count ? Did you see him ?
+
+Troth , my lord , I have played the part of Lady Fame . I found him here as melancholy as a lodge in a warren . I told him , and I think I told him true , that your Grace had got the good will of this young lady ; and I offered him my company to a willow tree , either to make him a garland , as being forsaken , or to bind him up a rod , as being worthy to be whipped .
+
+To be whipped ! What's his fault ?
+
+The flat transgression of a school-boy , who , being overjoy'd with finding a bird's nest , shows it his companion , and he steals it .
+
+Wilt thou make a trust a transgression ? The transgression is in the stealer .
+
+Yet it had not been amiss the rod had been made , and the garland too ; for the garland he might have worn himself , and the rod he might have bestowed on you , who , as I take it , have stolen his bird's nest .
+
+I will but teach them to sing , and restore them to the owner .
+
+If their singing answer your saying , by my faith , you say honestly .
+
+The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you : the gentleman that danced with her told her she is much wronged by you .
+
+O ! she misused me past the endurance of a block : an oak but with one green leaf on it , would have answered her : my very visor began to assume life and scold with her . She told me , not thinking I had been myself , that I was the prince's jester ; that I was duller than a great thaw ; huddling jest upon jest with such impossible conveyance upon me , that I stood like a man at a mark , with a whole army shooting at me . She speaks poniards , and every word stabs : if her breath were as terrible as her terminations , there were no living near her ; she would infect to the north star . I would not marry her , though she were endowed with all that Adam had left him before he transgressed : she would have made Hercules have turned spit , yea , and have cleft his club to make the fire too . Come , talk not of her ; you shall find her the infernal Ate in good apparel . I would to God some scholar would conjure her , for certainly , while she is here , a man may live as quiet in hell as in a sanctuary ; and people sin upon purpose because they would go thither ; so , indeed , all disquiet , horror and perturbation follow her .
+
+
+Look ! here she comes .
+
+Will your Grace command me any service to the world's end ? I will go on the slightest errand now to the Antipodes that you can devise to send me on ; I will fetch you a toothpicker now from the furthest inch of Asia ; bring you the length of Prester John's foot ; fetch you a hair off the Great Cham's beard ; do you any embassage to the Pigmies , rather than hold three words' conference with this harpy . You have no employment for me ?
+
+None , but to desire your good company .
+
+O God , sir , here's a dish I love not : I cannot endure my Lady Tongue .
+
+
+Come , lady , come ; you have lost the heart of Signior Benedick .
+
+Indeed , my lord , he lent it me awhile ; and I gave him use for it , a double heart for a single one : marry , once before he won it of me with false dice , therefore your Grace may well say I have lost it .
+
+You have put him down , lady , you have put him down .
+
+So I would not he should do me , my lord , lest I should prove the mother of fools . I have brought Count Claudio , whom you sent me to seek .
+
+Why , how now , count ! wherefore are you sad ?
+
+Not sad , my lord .
+
+How then ? Sick ?
+
+Neither , my lord .
+
+The count is neither sad , nor sick , nor merry , nor well ; but civil count , civil as an orange , and something of that jealous complexion .
+
+I' faith , lady , I think your blazon to be true ; though , I'll be sworn , if he be so , his conceit is false . Here , Claudio , I have wooed in thy name , and fair Hero is won ; I have broke with her father , and , his good will obtained ; name the day of marriage , and God give thee joy !
+
+Count , take of me my daughter , and with her my fortunes : his Grace hath made the match , and all grace say Amen to it !
+
+Speak , count , 'tis your cue .
+
+Silence is the perfectest herald of joy : I were but little happy , if I could say how much . Lady , as you are mine , I am yours : I give away myself for you and dote upon the exchange .
+
+Speak , cousin ; or , if you cannot , stop his mouth with a kiss , and let not him speak neither .
+
+In faith , lady , you have a merry heart .
+
+Yea , my lord ; I thank it , poor fool , it keeps on the windy side of care . My cousin tells him in his ear that he is in her heart .
+
+And so she doth , cousin .
+
+Good Lord , for alliance ! Thus goes every one to the world but I , and I am sunburnt . I may sit in a corner and cry heigh-ho for a husband !
+
+Lady Beatrice , I will get you one .
+
+I would rather have one of your father's getting . Hath your Grace ne'er a brother like you ? Your father got excellent husbands , if a maid could come by them .
+
+Will you have me , lady ?
+
+No , my lord , unless I might have another for working days : your Grace is too costly to wear every day . But , I beseech your Grace , pardon me ; I was born to speak all mirth and no matter .
+
+Your silence most offends me , and to be merry best becomes you ; for , out of question , you were born in a merry hour .
+
+No , sure , my lord , my mother cried ; but then there was a star danced , and under that was I born . Cousins , God give you joy !
+
+Niece , will you look to those things I told you of ?
+
+I cry you mercy , uncle . By your Grace's pardon .
+
+
+By my troth , a pleasant-spirited lady .
+
+There's little of the melancholy element in her , my lord : she is never sad but when she sleeps ; and not ever sad then , for I have heard my daughter say , she hath often dreamed of unhappiness and waked herself with laughing .
+
+She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband .
+
+O ! by no means : she mocks all her wooers out of suit .
+
+She were an excellent wife for Benedick .
+
+O Lord ! my lord , if they were but a week married , they would talk themselves mad .
+
+Count Claudio , when mean you to go to church ?
+
+To-morrow , my lord . Time goes on crutches till love have all his rites .
+
+Not till Monday , my dear son , which is hence a just seven-night ; and a time too brief too , to have all things answer my mind .
+
+Come , you shake the head at so long a breathing ; but , I warrant thee , Claudio , the time shall not go dully by us . I will in the interim undertake one of Hercules' labours , which is , to bring Signior Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection the one with the other . I would fain have it a match ; and I doubt not but to fashion it , if you three will but minister such assistance as I shall give you direction .
+
+My lord , I am for you , though it cost me ten nights' watchings .
+
+And I , my lord .
+
+And you too , gentle Hero ?
+
+I will do any modest office , my lord , to help my cousin to a good husband .
+
+And Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband that I know . Thus far can I praise him ; he is of a noble strain , of approved valour , and confirmed honesty . I will teach you how to humour your cousin , that she shall fall in love with Benedick ; and I , with your two helps , will so practise on Benedick that , in despite of his quick wit and his queasy stomach , he shall fall in love with Beatrice . If we can do this , Cupid is no longer an archer : his glory shall be ours , for we are the only love-gods . Go in with me , and I will tell you my drift .
+
+
+It is so ; the Count Claudio shall marry the daughter of Leonato .
+
+Yea , my lord ; but I can cross it .
+
+Any bar , any cross , any impediment will be medicinable to me : I am sick in displeasure to him , and whatsoever comes athwart his affection ranges evenly with mine . How canst thou cross this marriage ?
+
+Not honestly , my lord ; but so covertly that no dishonesty shall appear in me .
+
+Show me briefly how .
+
+I think I told your lordship , a year since , how much I am in the favour of Margaret , the waiting-gentlewoman to Hero .
+
+I remember .
+
+I can , at any unseasonable instant of the night , appoint her to look out at her lady's chamber-window .
+
+What life is in that , to be the death of this marriage ?
+
+The poison of that lies in you to temper . Go you to the prince your brother ; spare not to tell him , that he hath wronged his honour in marrying the renowned Claudio ,whose estimation do you mightily hold up ,to a contaminated stale , such a one as Hero .
+
+What proof shall I make of that ?
+
+Proof enough to misuse the prince , to vex Claudio , to undo Hero , and kill Leonato .
+Look you for any other issue ?
+
+Only to despite them , I will endeavour any thing .
+
+Go , then ; find me a meet hour to draw Don Pedro and the Count Claudio alone : tell them that you know that Hero loves me ; intend a kind of zeal both to the prince and Claudio , as in love of your brother's honour , who hath made this match , and his friend's reputation , who is thus like to be cozened with the semblance of a maid ,that you have discovered thus . They will scarcely believe this without trial : offer them instances , which shall bear no less likelihood than to see me at her chamber-window , hear me call Margaret Hero ; hear Margaret term me Claudio ; and bring them to see this the very night before the intended wedding : for in the meantime I will so fashion the matter that Hero shall be absent ; and there shall appear such seeming truth of Hero's disloyalty , that jealousy shall be called assurance , and all the preparation overthrown .
+
+Grow this to what adverse issue it can , I will put it in practice . Be cunning in the working this , and thy fee is a thousand ducats .
+
+Be you constant in the accusation , and my cunning shall not shame me .
+
+I will presently go learn their day of marriage .
+
+
+Boy !
+
+
+Signior ?
+
+In my chamber-window lies a book ; bring it hither to me in the orchard .
+
+I am here already , sir .
+
+I know that ; but I would have thee hence , and here again . [Exit Boy .] I do much wonder that one man , seeing how much another man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviours to love , will , after he hath laughed at such shallow follies in others , become the argument of his own scorn by falling in love : and such a man is Claudio . I have known , when there was no music with him but the drum and the fife ; and now had he rather hear the tabor and the pipe : I have known , when he would have walked ten mile afoot to see a good armour ; and now will he lie ten nights awake , carving the fashion of a new doublet . He was wont to speak plain and to the purpose , like an honest man and a soldier ; and now is he turned orthographer ; his words are a very fantastical banquet , just so many strange dishes . May I be so converted , and see with these eyes ? I cannot tell ; I think not : I will not be sworn but love may transform me to an oyster ; but I'll take my oath on it , till he have made an oyster of me , he shall never make me such a fool . One woman is fair , yet I am well ; another is wise , yet I am well ; another virtuous , yet I am well ; but till all graces be in one woman , one woman shall not come in my grace . Rich she shall be , that's certain ; wise , or I'll none ; virtuous , or I'll never cheapen her ; fair , or I'll never look on her ; mild , or come not near me ; noble , or not I for an angel ; of good discourse , an excellent musician , and her hair shall be of what colour it please God . Ha ! the prince and Monsieur Love ! I will hide me in the arbour .
+
+Come , shall we hear this music ?
+
+Yea , my good lord . How still the evening is ,
+As hush'd on purpose to grace harmony !
+
+See you where Benedick hath hid himself ?
+
+O ! very well , my lord : the music ended ,
+We'll fit the kid-fox with a penny-worth .
+
+Come , Balthazar , we'll hear that song again .
+
+O ! good my lord , tax not so bad a voice
+To slander music any more than once .
+
+It is the witness still of excellency ,
+To put a strange face on his own perfection .
+I pray thee , sing , and let me woo no more .
+
+Because you talk of wooing , I will sing ;
+Since many a wooer doth commence his suit
+To her he thinks not worthy ; yet he woos ;
+Yet will he swear he loves .
+
+Nay , pray thee , come ;
+Or if thou wilt hold longer argument ,
+Do it in notes .
+
+Note this before my notes ;
+There's not a note of mine that's worth the noting .
+
+Why these are very crotchets that he speaks ;
+Notes , notes , forsooth , and nothing !
+
+
+Now , divine air ! now is his soul ravished ! Is it not strange that sheeps' guts should hale souls out of men's bodies ? Well , a horn for my money , when all's done .
+
+Sigh no more , ladies , sigh no more ,
+Men were deceivers ever ;
+One foot in sea , and one on shore ,
+To one thing constant never .
+Then sigh not so ,
+But let them go ,
+And be you blithe and bonny ,
+Converting all your sounds of woe
+Into Hey nonny , nonny .
+Sing no more ditties , sing no mo
+Of dumps so dull and heavy ;
+The fraud of men was ever so ,
+Since summer first was leavy .
+Then sigh not so ,
+But let them go ,
+And be you blithe and bonny ,
+Converting all your sounds of woe
+Into Hey nonny , nonny .
+
+
+By my troth , a good song .
+
+And an ill singer , my lord .
+
+Ha , no , no , faith ; thou singest well enough for a shift .
+
+An he had been a dog that should have howled thus , they would have hanged him ; and I pray God his bad voice bode no mischief . I had as lief have heard the night-raven , come what plague could have come after it .
+
+Yea , marry ; dost thou hear , Balthazar ? I pray thee , get us some excellent music , for to-morrow night we would have it at the Lady Hero's chamber-window .
+
+The best I can , my lord .
+
+Do so : farewell .
+
+Come hither , Leonato : what was it you told me of to-day , that your niece Beatrice was in love with Signior Benedick ?
+
+O ! ay :
+
+Stalk on , stalk on ; the fowl sits . I did never think that lady would have loved any man .
+
+No , nor I neither ; but most wonderful that she should so dote on Signior Benedick , whom she hath in all outward behaviours seemed ever to abhor .
+
+Is't possible ? Sits the wind in that corner ?
+
+By my troth , my lord , I cannot tell what to think of it but that she loves him with an enraged affection : it is past the infinite of thought .
+
+May be she doth but counterfeit .
+
+Faith , like enough .
+
+O God ! counterfeit ! There was never counterfeit of passion came so near the life of passion as she discovers it .
+
+Why , what effects of passion shows she ?
+
+Bait the hook well : this fish will bite .
+
+What effects , my lord ? She will sit you ;
+
+You heard my daughter tell you how .
+
+She did , indeed .
+
+How , how , I pray you ? You amaze me : I would have thought her spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection .
+
+I would have sworn it had , my lord ; especially against Benedick .
+
+I should think this a gull , but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it : knavery cannot , sure , hide itself in such reverence .
+
+He hath ta'en the infection : hold it up .
+
+Hath she made her affection known to Benedick ?
+
+No ; and swears she never will : that's her torment .
+
+'Tis true , indeed ; so your daughter says : 'Shall I ,' says she , 'that have so oft encountered him with scorn , write to him that I love him ?'
+
+This says she now when she is beginning to write to him ; for she'll be up twenty times a night , and there will she sit in her smock till she have writ a sheet of paper : my daughter tells us all .
+
+Now you talk of a sheet of paper , I remember a pretty jest your daughter told us of .
+
+O ! when she had writ it , and was reading it over , she found Benedick and Beatrice between the sheet ?
+
+That .
+
+O ! she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence ; railed at herself , that she should be so immodest to write to one that she knew would flout her : 'I measure him ,' says she , 'by my own spirit ; for I should flout him , if he writ to me ; yea , though I love him , I should .'
+
+Then down upon her knees she falls , weeps , sobs , beats her heart , tears her hair , prays , curses ; 'O sweet Benedick ! God give me patience !'
+
+She doth indeed ; my daughter says so ; and the ecstasy hath so much overborne her , that my daughter is sometimes afeard she will do a desperate outrage to herself . It is very true .
+
+It were good that Benedick knew of it by some other , if she will not discover it .
+
+To what end ? he would but make a sport of it and torment the poor lady worse .
+
+An he should , it were an alms to hang him . She's an excellent sweet lady , and , out of all suspicion , she is virtuous .
+
+And she is exceeding wise .
+
+In everything but in loving Benedick .
+
+O ! my lord , wisdom and blood combating in so tender a body , we have ten proofs to one that blood hath the victory . I am sorry for her , as I have just cause , being her uncle and her guardian .
+
+I would she had bestowed this dotage on me ; I would have daffed all other respects and made her half myself . I pray you , tell Benedick of it , and hear what a' will say .
+
+Were it good , think you ?
+
+Hero thinks surely she will die ; for she says she will die if he love her not , and she will die ere she make her love known , and she will die if he woo her , rather than she will bate one breath of her accustomed crossness .
+
+She doth well : if she should make tender of her love , 'tis very possible he'll scorn it ; for the man ,as you know all ,hath a contemptible spirit .
+
+he is a very proper man .
+
+He hath indeed a good outward happiness .
+
+'Fore God , and in my mind , very wise .
+
+He doth indeed show some sparks that are like wit .
+
+And I take him to be valiant .
+
+As Hector , I assure you : and in the managing of quarrels you may say he is wise ; for either he avoids them with great discretion , or undertakes them with a most Christian-like fear .
+
+If he do fear God , a' must necessarily keep peace : if he break the peace , he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling .
+
+And so will he do ; for the man doth fear God , howsoever it seems not in him by some large jests he will make . Well , I am sorry for your niece . Shall we go seek Benedick , and tell him of her love ?
+
+Never tell him , my lord : let her wear it out with good counsel .
+
+Nay , that's impossible : she may wear her heart out first .
+
+Well , we will hear further of it by your daughter : let it cool the while . I love Benedick well , and I could wish he would modestly examine himself , to see how much he is unworthy to have so good a lady .
+
+My lord , will you walk ? dinner is ready .
+
+If he do not dote on her upon this , I will never trust my expectation .
+
+Let there be the same net spread for her ; and that must your daughter and her gentlewoman carry . The sport will be , when they hold one an opinion of another's dotage , and no such matter : that's the scene that I would see , which will be merely a dumbshow . Let us send her to call him in to dinner .
+
+
+This can be no trick : the conference was sadly borne . They have the truth of this from Hero . They seem to pity the lady : it seems , her affections have their full bent . Love me ! why , it must be requited . I hear how I am censured : they say I will bear myself proudly , if I perceive the love come from her ; they say too that she will rather die than give any sign of affection . I did never think to marry : I must not seem proud : happy are they that hear their detractions , and can put them to mending . They say the lady is fair : 'tis a truth , I can bear them witness ; and virtuous : 'tis so , I cannot reprove it ; and wise , but for loving me : by my troth , it is no addition to her wit , nor no great argument of her folly , for I will be horribly in love with her . I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me , because I have railed so long against marriage ; but doth not the appetite alter ? A man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age . Shall quips and sentences and these paper bullets of the brain awe a man from the career of his humour ? No ; the world must be peopled . When I said I would die a bachelor , I did not think I should live till I were married . Here comes Beatrice . By this day ! she's a fair lady : I do spy some marks of love in her .
+
+
+Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner .
+
+Fair Beatrice , I thank you for your pains .
+
+I took no more pains for those thanks than you take pains to thank me : if it had been painful , I would not have come .
+
+You take pleasure then in the message ?
+
+Yea , just so much as you may take upon a knife's point , and choke a daw withal . You have no stomach , signior : fare you well .
+
+
+Ha ! 'Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner ,' there's a double meaning in that . 'I took no more pains for those thanks than you took pains to thank me ,' that's as much as to say , Any pains that I take for you is as easy as thanks . If I do not take pity of her , I am a villain ; if I do not love her , I am a Jew . I will go get her picture .
+
+Good Margaret , run thee to the parlour ;
+There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice
+Proposing with the prince and Claudio :
+Whisper her ear , and tell her , I and Ursula
+Walk in the orchard , and our whole discourse
+Is all of her ; say that thou overheard'st us ,
+And bid her steal into the pleached bower ,
+Where honey-suckles , ripen'd by the sun ,
+Forbid the sun to enter ; like favourites ,
+Made proud by princes , that advance their pride
+Against that power that bred it . There will she hide her ,
+To listen our propose . This is thy office ;
+Bear thee well in it and leave us alone .
+
+I'll make her come , I warrant you , presently .
+
+
+Now , Ursula , when Beatrice doth come ,
+As we do trace this alley up and down ,
+Our talk must only be of Benedick :
+When I do name him , let it be thy part
+To praise him more than ever man did merit .
+My talk to thee must be how Benedick
+Is sick in love with Beatrice : of this matter
+Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made ,
+That only wounds by hearsay .
+
+
+Now begin ;
+For look where Beatrice , like a lapwing , runs
+
+Close by the ground , to hear our conference .
+
+The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish
+Cut with her golden oars the silver stream ,
+And greedily devour the treacherous bait :
+So angle we for Beatrice ; who even now
+Is couched in the woodbine coverture .
+Fear you not my part of the dialogue .
+
+Then go we near her , that her ear lose nothing
+Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it .
+
+No , truly , Ursula , she is too disdainful ;
+I know her spirits are as coy and wild
+As haggerds of the rock .
+
+But are you sure
+That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely ?
+
+So says the prince , and my new-trothed lord .
+
+And did they bid you tell her of it , madam ?
+
+They did entreat me to acquaint her of it ;
+But I persuaded them , if they lov'd Benedick ,
+To wish him wrestle with affection ,
+And never to let Beatrice know of it .
+
+Why did you so ? Doth not the gentleman
+Deserve as full as fortunate a bed
+As ever Beatrice shall couch upon ?
+
+O god of love ! I know he doth deserve
+As much as may be yielded to a man ;
+But nature never fram'd a woman's heart
+Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice ;
+Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes ,
+Misprising what they look on , and her wit
+Values itself so highly , that to her
+All matter else seems weak . She cannot love ,
+Nor take no shape nor project of affection ,
+She is so self-endear'd .
+
+Sure , I think so ;
+And therefore certainly it were not good
+She knew his love , lest she make sport at it .
+
+Why , you speak truth . I never yet saw man ,
+How wise , how noble , young , how rarely featur'd ,
+But she would spell him backward : if fair-fac'd ,
+She would swear the gentleman should be her sister ;
+If black , why , Nature , drawing of an antick ,
+Made a foul blot ; if tall , a lance ill-headed ;
+If low , an agate very vilely cut ;
+If speaking , why , a vane blown with all winds ;
+If silent , why , a block moved with none .
+So turns she every man the wrong side out ,
+And never gives to truth and virtue that
+Which simpleness and merit purchaseth .
+
+Sure , sure , such carping is not commendable .
+
+No ; not to be so odd and from all fashions
+As Beatrice is , cannot be commendable .
+But who dare tell her so ? If I should speak ,
+She would mock me into air : O ! she would laugh me
+Out of myself , press me to death with wit .
+Therefore let Benedick , like cover'd fire ,
+Consume away in sighs , waste inwardly :
+It were a better death than die with mocks ,
+Which is as bad as die with tickling .
+
+Yet tell her of it : hear what she will say .
+
+No ; rather I will go to Benedick ,
+And counsel him to fight against his passion .
+And , truly , I'll devise some honest slanders
+To stain my cousin with . One doth not know
+How much an ill word may empoison liking .
+
+O ! do not do your cousin such a wrong .
+She cannot be so much without true judgment ,
+Having so swift and excellent a wit
+As she is priz'd to have ,as to refuse
+So rare a gentleman as Signior Benedick .
+
+He is the only man of Italy ,
+Always excepted my dear Claudio .
+
+I pray you , be not angry with me , madam ,
+Speaking my fancy : Signior Benedick ,
+For shape , for bearing , argument and valour ,
+Goes foremost in report through Italy .
+
+Indeed , he hath an excellent good name .
+
+His excellence did earn it , ere he had it .
+When are you married , madam ?
+
+Why , every day , to-morrow . Come , go in :
+I'll show thee some attires , and have thy counsel
+Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow .
+
+She's lim'd , I warrant you : we have caught her , madam .
+
+If it prove so , then loving goes by haps :
+Some Cupid kills with arrows , some with traps .
+
+
+What fire is in mine ears ? Can this be true ?
+Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorn so much ?
+Contempt , farewell ! and maiden pride , adieu !
+No glory lives behind the back of such .
+And , Benedick , love on ; I will requite thee ,
+Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand :
+If thou dost love , my kindness shall incite thee
+To bind our loves up in a holy band ;
+For others say thou dost deserve , and I
+Believe it better than reportingly .
+
+
+I do but stay till your marriage be consummate , and then go I toward Arragon .
+
+I'll bring you thither , my lord , if you'll vouchsafe me .
+
+Nay , that would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your marriage , as to show a child his new coat and forbid him to wear it . I will only be bold with Benedick for his company ; for , from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot , he is all mirth : he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bow-string , and the little hangman dare not shoot at him . He hath a heart as sound as a bell , and his tongue is the clapper ; for what his heart thinks his tongue speaks .
+
+Gallants , I am not as I have been .
+
+So say I : methinks you are sadder .
+
+I hope he be in love .
+
+Hang him , truant ! there's no true drop of blood in him , to be truly touched with love . If he be sad , he wants money .
+
+I have the tooth-ache .
+
+Draw it .
+
+Hang it .
+
+You must hang it first , and draw it afterwards .
+
+What ! sigh for the tooth-ache ?
+
+Where is but a humour or a worm ?
+
+Well , every one can master a grief but he that has it .
+
+Yet say I , he is in love .
+
+There is no appearance of fancy in him , unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises ; as , to be a Dutchman to-day , a Frenchman to-morrow , or in the shape of two countries at once , as a German from the waist downward , all slops , and a Spaniard from the hip upward , no doublet . Unless he have a fancy to this foolery , as it appears he hath , he is no fool for fancy , as you would have it appear he is .
+
+If he be not in love with some woman , there is no believing old signs : a' brushes his hat a mornings ; what should that bode ?
+
+Hath any man seen him at the barber's ?
+
+No , but the barber's man hath been seen with him ; and the old ornament of his cheek hath already stuffed tennis-balls .
+
+Indeed he looks younger than he did , by the loss of a beard .
+
+Nay , a' rubs himself with civet : can you smell him out by that ?
+
+That's as much as to say the sweet youth's in love .
+
+The greatest note of it is his melancholy .
+
+And when was he wont to wash his face ?
+
+Yea , or to paint himself ? for the which , I hear what they say of him .
+
+Nay , but his jesting spirit ; which is now crept into a lute-string , and new-governed by stops .
+
+Indeed , that tells a heavy tale for him . Conclude , conclude he is in love .
+
+Nay , but I know who loves him .
+
+That would I know too : I warrant , one that knows him not .
+
+Yes , and his ill conditions ; and in despite of all , dies for him .
+
+She shall be buried with her face upwards .
+
+Yet is this no charm for the tooth-ache .
+Old signior , walk aside with me : I have studied eight or nine wise words to speak to you , which these hobby-horses must not hear .
+
+
+For my life , to break with him about Beatrice .
+
+'Tis even so . Hero and Margaret have by this played their parts with Beatrice , and then the two bears will not bite one another when they meet .
+
+
+My lord and brother , God save you !
+
+Good den , brother .
+
+If your leisure served , I would speak with you .
+
+In private ?
+
+If it please you ; yet Count Claudio may hear , for what I would speak of concerns him .
+
+What's the matter ?
+
+Means your lordship to be married to-morrow ?
+
+You know he does .
+
+I know not that , when he knows what I know .
+
+If there be any impediment , I pray you discover it .
+
+You may think I love you not : let that appear hereafter , and aim better at me by that I now will manifest . For my brother , I think he holds you well , and in dearness of heart hath holp to effect your ensuing marriage ; surely suit ill-spent , and labour ill bestowed !
+
+Why , what's the matter ?
+
+I came hither to tell you ; and circumstances shortened ,for she hath been too long a talking of ,the lady is disloyal .
+
+Who , Hero ?
+
+Even she : Leonato's Hero , your Hero , every man's Hero .
+
+Disloyal ?
+
+The word's too good to paint out her wickedness ; I could say , she were worse : think you of a worse title , and I will fit her to it . Wonder not till further warrant : go but with me to-night , you shall see her chamber-window entered , even the night before her wedding-day : if you love her then , to-morrow wed her ; but it would better fit your honour to change your mind .
+
+May this be so ?
+
+I will not think it .
+
+If you dare not trust that you see , confess not that you know . If you will follow me , I will show you enough ; and when you have seen more and heard more , proceed accordingly .
+
+If I see any thing to-night why I should not marry her to-morrow , in the congregation , where I should wed , there will I shame her .
+
+And , as I wooed for thee to obtain her , I will join with thee to disgrace her .
+
+I will disparage her no further till you are my witnesses : bear it coldly but till midnight , and let the issue show itself .
+
+O day untowardly turned !
+
+O mischief strangely thwarting !
+
+O plague right well prevented ! So will you say when you have seen the sequel .
+
+
+Are you good men and true ?
+
+Yea , or else it were pity but they should suffer salvation , body and soul .
+
+Nay , that were a punishment too good for them , if they should have any allegiance in them , being chosen for the prince's watch .
+
+Well , give them their charge , neighbour Dogberry .
+
+First , who think you the most desartless man to be constable ?
+
+Hugh Oatcake , sir , or George Seacoal ; for they can write and read .
+
+Come hither , neighbour Seacoal . God hath blessed you with a good name : to be a well-favoured man is the gift of fortune ; but to write and read comes by nature .
+
+Both which , Master constable ,
+
+You have : I knew it would be your answer . Well , for your favour , sir , why , give God thanks , and make no boast of it ; and for your writing and reading , let that appear when there is no need of such vanity . You are thought here to be the most senseless and fit man for the constable of the watch ; therefore bear you the lanthorn . This is your charge : you shall comprehend all vagrom men ; you are to bid any man stand , in the prince's name .
+
+How , if a' will not stand ?
+
+Why , then , take no note of him , but let him go ; and presently call the rest of the watch together , and thank God you are rid of a knave .
+
+If he will not stand when he is bidden , he is none of the prince's subjects .
+
+True , and they are to meddle with none but the prince's subjects . You shall also make no noise in the streets : for , for the watch to babble and to talk is most tolerable and not to be endured .
+
+We will rather sleep than talk : we know what belongs to a watch .
+
+Why , you speak like an ancient and most quiet watchman , for I cannot see how sleeping should offend ; only have a care that your bills be not stolen . Well , you are to call at all the alehouses , and bid those that are drunk get them to bed .
+
+How if they will not ?
+
+Why then , let them alone till they are sober : if they make you not then the better answer , you may say they are not the men you took them for .
+
+Well , sir .
+
+If you meet a thief , you may suspect him , by virtue of your office , to be no true man ; and , for such kind of men , the less you meddle or make with them , why , the more is for your honesty .
+
+If we know him to be a thief , shall we not lay hands on him ?
+
+Truly , by your office , you may ; but I think they that touch pitch will be defiled . The most peaceable way for you , if you do take a thief , is , to let him show himself what he is and steal out of your company .
+
+You have been always called a merciful man , partner .
+
+Truly , I would not hang a dog by my will , much more a man who hath any honesty in him .
+
+If you hear a child cry in the night , you must call to the nurse and bid her still it .
+
+How if the nurse be asleep and will not hear us ?
+
+Why , then , depart in peace , and let the child wake her with crying ; for the ewe that will not hear her lamb when it baes , will never answer a calf when he bleats .
+
+'Tis very true .
+
+This is the end of the charge . You constable , are to present the prince's own person : if you meet the prince in the night , you may stay him .
+
+Nay , by 'r lady , that I think , a' cannot .
+
+Five shillings to one on't , with any man that knows the statues , he may stay him : marry , not without the prince be willing ; for , indeed , the watch ought to offend no man , and it is an offence to stay a man against his will .
+
+By 'r lady , I think it be so .
+
+Ha , ah , ha ! Well , masters , good night : an there be any matter of weight chances , call up me : keep your fellows' counsels and your own , and good night . Come , neighbour .
+
+Well , masters , we hear our charge : let us go sit here upon the church-bench till two , and then all go to bed .
+
+One word more , honest neighbours . I pray you , watch about Signior Leonato's door ; for the wedding being there to-morrow , there is a great coil to-night . Adieu ; be vigitant , I beseech you .
+
+What , Conrade !
+
+Peace ! stir not .
+
+Conrade , I say !
+
+Here , man , I am at thy elbow .
+
+Mass , and my elbow itched ; I thought there would a scab follow .
+
+I will owe thee an answer for that ; and now forward with thy tale .
+
+Stand thee close then under this penthouse , for it drizzles rain , and I will , like a true drunkard , utter all to thee .
+
+Some treason , masters ; yet stand close .
+
+Therefore know , I have earned of Don John a thousand ducats .
+
+Is it possible that any villany should be so dear ?
+
+Thou shouldst rather ask if it were possible any villany should be so rich ; for when rich villains have need of poor ones , poor ones may make what price they will .
+
+I wonder at it .
+
+That shows thou art unconfirmed . Thou knowest that the fashion of a doublet , or a hat , or a cloak , is nothing to a man .
+
+Yes , it is apparel .
+
+I mean , the fashion .
+
+Yes , the fashion is the fashion .
+
+Tush ! I may as well say the fool's the fool . But seest thou not what a deformed thief this fashion is ?
+
+I know that Deformed ; a' has been a vile thief this seven years ; a' goes up and down like a gentleman : I remember his name .
+
+Didst thou not hear somebody ?
+
+No : 'twas the vane on the house .
+
+Seest thou not , I say , what a deformed thief this fashion is ? how giddily he turns about all the hot bloods between fourteen and five-and-thirty ? sometime fashioning them like Pharaoh's soldiers in the reechy painting ; sometime like god Bel's priests in the old church-window ; sometime like the shaven Hercules in the smirched worm-eaten tapestry , where his cod-piece seems as massy as his club ?
+
+All this I see , and I see that the fashion wears out more apparel than the man . But art not thou thyself giddy with the fashion too , that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion ?
+
+Not so , neither ; but know , that I have to-night wooed Margaret , the Lady Hero's gentlewoman , by the name of Hero : she leans me out at her mistress' chamber-window , bids me a thousand times good night ,I tell this tale vilely :I should first tell thee how the prince , Claudio , and my master , planted and placed and possessed by my master Don John , saw afar off in the orchard this amiable encounter .
+
+And thought they Margaret was Hero ?
+
+Two of them did , the prince and Claudio ; but the devil my master , knew she was Margaret ; and partly by his oaths , which first possessed them , partly by the dark night , which did deceive them , but chiefly by my villany , which did confirm any slander that Don John had made , away went Claudio enraged ; swore he would meet her , as he was appointed , next morning at the temple , and there , before the whole congregation , shame her with what he saw o'er night , and send her home again without a husband .
+
+We charge you in the prince's name , stand !
+
+Call up the right Master constable . We have here recovered the most dangerous piece of lechery that ever was known in the commonwealth .
+
+And one Deformed is one of them : I know him , a' wears a lock .
+
+Masters , masters !
+
+You'll be made bring Deformed forth , I warrant you .
+
+Masters ,
+
+Never speak : we charge you let us obey you to go with us .
+
+We are like to prove a goodly commodity , being taken up of these men's bills .
+
+A commodity in question , I warrant you . Come , we'll obey you .
+
+
+Good Ursula , wake my cousin Beatrice , and desire her to rise .
+
+I will , lady .
+
+And bid her come hither .
+
+Well .
+
+
+Troth , I think your other rabato were better .
+
+No , pray thee , good Meg , I'll wear this .
+
+By my troth's not so good ; and I warrant your cousin will say so .
+
+My cousin's a fool , and thou art another : I'll wear none but this .
+
+I like the new tire within excellently , if the hair were a thought browner ; and your gown's a most rare fashion , i' faith . I saw the Duchess of Milan's gown that they praise so .
+
+O ! that exceeds , they say .
+
+By my troth's but a night-gown in respect of yours : cloth o' gold , and cuts , and laced with silver , set with pearls , down sleeves , side sleeves , and skirts round , underborne with a bluish tinsel ; but for a fine , quaint , graceful , and excellent fashion , yours is worth ten on't .
+
+God give me joy to wear it ! for my heart is exceeding heavy .
+
+'Twill be heavier soon by the weight of a man .
+
+Fie upon thee ! art not ashamed ?
+
+Of what , lady ? of speaking honourably ? is not marriage honourable in a beggar ? Is not your lord honourable without marriage ? I think you would have me say , 'saving your reverence , a husband :' an bad thinking do not wrest true speaking , I'll offend nobody . Is there any harm in 'the heavier for a husband ?' None , I think , an it be the right husband and the right wife ; otherwise 'tis light , and not heavy : ask my Lady Beatrice else ; here she comes .
+
+
+Good morrow , coz .
+
+Good morrow , sweet Hero .
+
+Why , how now ! do you speak in the sick tune ?
+
+I am out of all other tune , methinks .
+
+Clap's into 'Light o' love ;' that goes without a burden : do you sing it , and I'll dance it .
+
+Ye light o' love with your heels ! then , if your husband have stables enough , you'll see he shall lack no barns .
+
+O illegitimate construction ! I scorn that with my heels .
+
+'Tis almost five o'clock , cousin ; 'tis time you were ready . By my troth , I am exceeding ill . Heigh-ho !
+
+For a hawk , a horse , or a husband ?
+
+For the letter that begins them all , H .
+
+Well , an you be not turned Turk , there's no more sailing by the star .
+
+What means the fool , trow ?
+
+Nothing I ; but God send every one their heart's desire !
+
+These gloves the count sent me ; they are an excellent perfume .
+
+I am stuffed , cousin , I cannot smell .
+
+A maid , and stuffed ! there's goodly catching of cold .
+
+O , God help me ! God help me ! how long have you professed apprehension ?
+
+Ever since you left it . Doth not my wit become me rarely !
+
+It is not seen enough , you should wear it in your cap . By my troth , I am sick .
+
+Get you some of this distilled Carduus Benedictus , and lay it to your heart : it is the only thing for a qualm .
+
+There thou prick'st her with a thistle .
+
+Benedictus ! why Benedictus ? you have some moral in this Benedictus .
+
+Moral ! no , by my troth , I have no moral meaning ; I meant , plain holy-thistle . You may think , perchance , that I think you are in love : nay , by'r lady , I am not such a fool to think what I list ; nor I list not to think what I can ; nor , indeed , I cannot think , if I would think my heart out of thinking , that you are in love , or that you will be in love , or that you can be in love . Yet Benedick was such another , and now is he become a man : he swore he would never marry ; and yet now , in despite of his heart , he eats his meat without grudging : and how you may be converted , I know not ; but methinks you look with your eyes as other women do .
+
+What pace is this that thy tongue keeps ?
+
+Not a false gallop .
+
+
+Madam , withdraw : the prince , the count , Signior Benedick , Don John , and all the gallants of the town , are come to fetch you to church .
+
+Help to dress me , good coz , good Meg , good Ursula .
+
+
+What would you with me , honest neighbour ?
+
+Marry , sir , I would have some confidence with you , that decerns you nearly .
+
+Brief , I pray you ; for you see it is a busy time with me .
+
+Marry , this it is , sir .
+
+Yes , in truth it is , sir .
+
+What is it , my good friends ?
+
+Goodman Verges , sir , speaks a little off the matter : an old man , sir , and his wits are not so blunt , as , God help , I would desire they were ; but , in faith , honest as the skin between his brows .
+
+Yes , I thank God , I am as honest as any man living , that is an old man and no honester than I .
+
+Comparisons are odorous : palabras , neighbour Verges .
+
+Neighbours , you are tedious .
+
+It pleases your worship to say so , but we are the poor duke's officers ; but truly , for mine own part , if I were as tedious as a king , I could find in my heart to bestow it all of your worship .
+
+All thy tediousness on me ! ha ?
+
+Yea , an't were a thousand pound more than 'tis ; for I hear as good exclamation on your worship , as of any man in the city , and though I be but a poor man , I am glad to hear it .
+
+And so am I .
+
+I would fain know what you have to say .
+
+Marry , sir , our watch to-night , excepting your worship's presence , ha' ta'en a couple of as arrant knaves as any in Messina .
+
+A good old man , sir ; he will be talking ; as they say , 'when the age is in , the wit is out .' God help us ! it is a world to see ! Well said , i' faith , neighbour Verges : well , God's a good man ; an two men ride of a horse , one must ride behind . An honest soul , i' faith , sir ; by my troth he is , as ever broke bread : but God is to be worshipped : all men are not alike ; alas ! good neighbour .
+
+Indeed , neighbour , he comes too short of you .
+
+Gifts that God gives .
+
+I must leave you .
+
+One word , sir : our watch , sir , hath indeed comprehended two aspicious persons , and we would have them this morning examined before your worship .
+
+Take their examination yourself , and bring it me : I am now in great haste , as may appear unto you .
+
+It shall be suffigance .
+
+Drink some wine ere you go : fare you well .
+
+
+My lord , they stay for you to give your daughter to her husband .
+
+I'll wait upon them : I am ready .
+
+
+Go , good partner , go , get you to Francis Seacoal ; bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the gaol : we are now to examination these men .
+
+And we must do it wisely .
+
+We will spare for no wit , I warrant you ; here's that shall drive some of them to a non-come : only get the learned writer to set down our excommunication , and meet me at the gaol .
+
+Come , Friar Francis , be brief : only to the plain form of marriage , and you shall recount their particular duties afterwards .
+
+You come hither , my lord , to marry this lady ?
+
+No .
+
+To be married to her , friar ; you come to marry her .
+
+Lady , you come hither to be married to this count ?
+
+I do .
+
+If either of you know any inward impediment , why you should not be conjoined , I charge you , on your souls , to utter it .
+
+Know you any , Hero ?
+
+None , my lord .
+
+Know you any , count ?
+
+I dare make his answer ; none .
+
+O ! what men dare do ! what men may do ! what men daily do , not knowing what they do !
+
+How now ! Interjections ? Why then , some be of laughing , as ah ! ha ! he !
+
+Stand thee by , friar . Father , by your leave :
+Will you with free and unconstrained soul
+Give me this maid , your daughter ?
+
+As freely , son , as God did give her me .
+
+And what have I to give you back whose worth
+May counterpoise this rich and precious gift ?
+
+Nothing , unless you render her again .
+
+Sweet prince , you learn me noble thankfulness .
+There , Leonato , take her back again :
+Give not this rotten orange to your friend ;
+She's but the sign and semblance of her honour .
+Behold ! how like a maid she blushes here .
+O ! what authority and show of truth
+Can cunning sin cover itself withal .
+Comes not that blood as modest evidence
+To witness simple virtue ? Would you not swear ,
+All you that see her , that she were a maid ,
+By these exterior shows ? But she is none :
+She knows the heat of a luxurious bed ;
+Her blush is guiltiness , not modesty .
+
+What do you mean , my lord ?
+
+Not to be married ,
+Not to knit my soul to an approved wanton .
+
+Dear my lord , if you , in your own proof ,
+Have vanquish'd the resistance of her youth ,
+And made defeat of her virginity ,
+
+I know what you would say : if I have known her ,
+You'll say she did embrace me as a husband ,
+And so extenuate the 'forehand sin :
+No , Leonato ,
+I never tempted her with word too large ;
+But , as a brother to his sister , show'd
+Bashful sincerity and comely love .
+
+And seem'd I ever otherwise to you ?
+
+Out on thee ! Seeming ! I will write against it :
+You seem to me as Dian in her orb ,
+As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown ;
+But you are more intemperate in your blood
+Than Venus , or those pamper'd animals
+That rage in savage sensuality .
+
+Is my lord well , that he doth speak so wide ?
+
+Sweet prince , why speak not you ?
+
+What should I speak ?
+I stand dishonour'd , that have gone about
+To link my dear friend to a common stale .
+
+Are these things spoken , or do I but dream ?
+
+Sir , they are spoken , and these things are true .
+
+This looks not like a nuptial .
+
+True ! O God !
+
+Leonato , stand I here ?
+Is this the prince ? Is this the prince's brother ?
+Is this face Hero's ? Are our eyes our own ?
+
+All this is so ; but what of this , my lord ?
+
+Let me but move one question to your daughter ;
+And by that fatherly and kindly power
+That you have in her , bid her answer truly .
+
+I charge thee do so , as thou art my child .
+
+O , God defend me ! how am I beset !
+What kind of catechizing call you this ?
+
+To make you answer truly to your name .
+
+Is it not Hero ? Who can blot that name
+With any just reproach ?
+
+Marry , that can Hero :
+Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue .
+What man was he talk'd with you yesternight
+Out at your window , betwixt twelve and one ?
+Now , if you are a maid , answer to this .
+
+I talk'd with no man at that hour , my lord .
+
+Why , then are you no maiden . Leonato ,
+I am sorry you must hear : upon mine honour ,
+Myself , my brother , and this grieved count ,
+Did see her , hear her , at that hour last night ,
+Talk with a ruffian at her chamber-window ;
+Who hath indeed , most like a liberal villain ,
+Confess'd the vile encounters they have had
+A thousand times in secret .
+
+Fie , fie ! they are not to be nam'd , my lord ,
+Not to be spoke of ;
+There is not chastity enough in language
+Without offence to utter them . Thus , pretty lady ,
+I am sorry for thy much misgovernment .
+
+O Hero ! what a Hero hadst thou been ,
+If half thy outward graces had been plac'd
+About thy thoughts and counsels of thy heart !
+But fare thee well , most foul , most fair ! farewell ,
+Thou pure impiety , and impious purity !
+For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love ,
+And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang ,
+To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm ,
+And never shall it more be gracious .
+
+Hath no man's dagger here a point for me ?
+
+
+Why , how now , cousin ! wherefore sink you down ?
+
+Come , let us go . These things , come thus to light ,
+Smother her spirits up .
+
+
+How doth the lady ?
+
+Dead , I think ! help , uncle !
+Hero ! why , Hero ! Uncle ! Signior Benedick !
+Friar !
+
+O Fate ! take not away thy heavy hand :
+Death is the fairest cover for her shame
+That may be wish'd for .
+
+How now , cousin Hero !
+
+Have comfort , lady .
+
+Dost thou look up ?
+
+Yea ; wherefore should she not ?
+
+Wherefore ! Why , doth not every earthly thing
+Cry shame upon her ? Could she here deny
+The story that is printed in her blood ?
+Do not live , Hero ; do not ope thine eyes ;
+For , did I think thou wouldst not quickly die ,
+Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames ,
+Myself would , on the rearward of reproaches ,
+Strike at thy life . Griev'd I , I had but one ?
+Chid I for that at frugal nature's frame ?
+O ! one too much by thee . Why had I one ?
+Why ever wast thou lovely in mine eyes ?
+Why had I not with charitable hand
+Took up a beggar's issue at my gates ,
+Who smirched thus , and mir'd with infamy ,
+I might have said , 'No part of it is mine ;
+This shame derives itself from unknown loins ?'
+But mine , and mine I lov'd , and mine I prais'd ,
+And mine that I was proud on , mine so much
+That I myself was to myself not mine ,
+Valuing of her ; why , she O ! she is fallen
+Into a pit of ink , that the wide sea
+Hath drops too few to wash her clean again ,
+And salt too little which may season give
+To her foul-tainted flesh .
+
+Sir , sir , be patient .
+For my part , I am so attir'd in wonder ,
+I know not what to say .
+
+O ! on my soul , my cousin is belied !
+
+Lady , were you her bedfellow last night ?
+
+No , truly , not ; although , until last night ,
+I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow .
+
+Confirm'd , confirm'd ! O ! that is stronger made ,
+Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron .
+Would the two princes lie ? and Claudio lie ,
+Who lov'd her so , that , speaking of her foulness ,
+Wash'd it with tears ? Hence from her ! let her die .
+
+Hear me a little ;
+For I have only been silent so long ,
+And given way unto this course of fortune ,
+By noting of the lady : I have mark'd
+A thousand blushing apparitions
+To start into her face ; a thousand innocent shames
+In angel whiteness bear away those blushes ;
+And in her eye there hath appear'd a fire ,
+To burn the errors that these princess hold
+Against her maiden truth . Call me a fool ;
+Trust not my reading nor my observations ,
+Which with experimental seal doth warrant
+The tenour of my book ; trust not my age ,
+My reverence , calling , nor divinity ,
+If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here
+Under some biting error .
+
+Friar , it cannot be .
+Thou seest that all the grace that she hath left
+Is , that she will not add to her damnation
+A sin of perjury : she not denies it .
+Why seek'st thou then to cover with excuse
+That which appears in proper nakedness ?
+
+Lady , what man is he you are accus'd of ?
+
+They know that do accuse me , I know none ;
+If I know more of any man alive
+Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant ,
+Let all my sins lack mercy ! O , my father !
+Prove you that any man with me convers'd
+At hours unmeet , or that I yesternight
+Maintain'd the change of words with any creature ,
+Refuse me , hate me , torture me to death .
+
+There is some strange misprision in the princes .
+
+Two of them have the very bent of honour ;
+And if their wisdoms be misled in this ,
+The practice of it lives in John the bastard ,
+Whose spirits toil in frame of villanies .
+
+I know not . If they speak but truth of her ,
+These hands shall tear her ; if they wrong her honour ,
+The proudest of them shall well hear of it .
+Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine .
+Nor age so eat up my invention ,
+Nor fortune made such havoc of my means ,
+Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends ,
+But they shall find , awak'd in such a kind ,
+Both strength of limb and policy of mind ,
+Ability in means and choice of friends ,
+To quit me of them throughly .
+
+Pause awhile ,
+And let my counsel sway you in this case .
+Your daughter here the princes left for dead ;
+Let her awhile be secretly kept in ,
+And publish it that she is dead indeed :
+Maintain a mourning ostentation ;
+And on your family's old monument
+Hang mournful epitaphs and do all rites
+That appertain unto a burial .
+
+What shall become of this ? What will this do ?
+
+Marry , this well carried shall on her behalf
+Change slander to remorse ; that is some good :
+But not for that dream I on this strange course ,
+But on this travail look for greater birth .
+She dying , as it must be so maintain'd ,
+Upon the instant that she was accus'd ,
+Shall be lamented , pitied and excus'd
+Of every hearer ; for it so falls out
+That what we have we prize not to the worth
+Whiles we enjoy it , but being lack'd and lost ,
+Why , then we rack the value , then we find
+The virtue that possession would not show us
+Whiles it was ours . So will it fare with Claudio :
+When he shall hear she died upon his words ,
+The idea of her life shall sweetly creep
+Into his study of imagination ,
+And every lovely organ of her life
+Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit ,
+More moving-delicate , and full of life
+Into the eye and prospect of his soul ,
+Than when she liv'd indeed : then shall he mourn ,
+If ever love had interest in his liver ,
+And wish he had not so accused her ,
+No , though he thought his accusation true .
+Let this be so , and doubt not but success
+Will fashion the event in better shape
+Than I can lay it down in likelihood .
+But if all aim but this be levell'd false ,
+The supposition of the lady's death
+Will quench the wonder of her infamy :
+And if it sort not well , you may conceal her ,
+As best befits her wounded reputation ,
+In some reclusive and religious life ,
+Out of all eyes , tongues , minds , and injuries .
+
+Signior Leonato , let the friar advise you :
+And though you know my inwardness and love
+Is very much unto the prince and Claudio ,
+Yet , by mine honour , I will deal in this
+As secretly and justly as your soul
+Should with your body .
+
+Being that I flow in grief ,
+The smallest twine may lead me .
+
+'Tis well consented : presently away ;
+For to strange sores strangely they strain the cure .
+Come , lady , die to live : this wedding day
+Perhaps is but prolong'd : have patience and endure .
+
+
+Lady Beatrice , have you wept all this while ?
+
+Yea , and I will weep a while longer .
+
+I will not desire that .
+
+You have no reason ; I do it freely .
+
+Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged .
+
+Ah ! how much might the man deserve of me that would right her .
+
+Is there any way to show such friendship ?
+
+A very even way , but no such friend .
+
+May a man do it ?
+
+It is a man's office , but not yours .
+
+I do love nothing in the world so well as you : is not that strange ?
+
+As strange as the thing I know not .
+It were as possible for me to say I loved nothing so well as your , but believe me not , and yet I lie not ; I confess nothing , not I deny nothing . I am sorry for my cousin .
+
+By my sword , Beatrice , thou lovest me .
+
+Do not swear by it , and eat it .
+
+I will swear by it that you love me ; and I will make him eat it that says I love not you .
+
+Will you not eat your word ?
+
+With no sauce that can be devised to it . I protest I love thee .
+
+Why then , God forgive me !
+
+What offence , sweet Beatrice ?
+
+You have stayed me in a happy hour :
+I was about to protest I loved you .
+
+And do it with all thy heart .
+
+I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest .
+
+Come , bid me do anything for thee .
+
+Kill Claudio .
+
+Ha ! not for the wide world .
+
+You kill me to deny it . Farewell .
+
+Tarry , sweet Beatrice .
+
+I am gone , though I am here : there is no love in you : nay , I pray you , let me go .
+
+Beatrice ,
+
+In faith , I will go .
+
+We'll be friends first .
+
+You dare easier be friends with me than fight with mine enemy .
+
+Is Claudio thine enemy ?
+
+Is he not approved in the height a villain , that hath slandered , scorned , dishonoured my kinswoman ? O ! that I were a man . What ! bear her in hand until they come to take hands , and then , with public accusation , uncovered slander , unmitigated rancour ,O God , that I were a man ! I would eat his heart in the market-place .
+
+Hear me , Beatrice ,
+
+Talk with a man out at a window ! a proper saying !
+
+Nay , but Beatrice ,
+
+Sweet Hero ! she is wronged , she is slandered , she is undone .
+
+Beat
+
+Princes and counties ! Surely , a princely testimony , a goodly Count Comfect ; a sweet gallant , surely ! O ! that I were a man for his sake , or that I had any friend would be a man for my sake ! But manhood is melted into curtsies , valour into compliment , and men are only turned into tongue , and trim ones too : he is now as valiant as Hercules , that only tells a lie and swears it . I cannot be a man with wishing , therefore I will die a woman with grieving .
+
+Tarry , good Beatrice . By this hand , I love thee .
+
+Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it .
+
+Think you in your soul the Count Claudio hath wronged Hero ?
+
+Yea , as sure as I have a thought or a soul .
+
+Enough ! I am engaged , I will challenge him . I will kiss your hand , and so leave you . By this hand , Claudio shall render me a dear account . As you hear of me , so think of me . Go , comfort your cousin : I must say she is dead ; and so , farewell .
+
+
+Is our whole dissembly appeared ?
+
+O ! a stool and a cushion for the sexton .
+
+Which be the malefactors ?
+
+Marry , that am I and my partner .
+
+Nay , that's certain : we have the exhibition to examine .
+
+But which are the offenders that are to be examined ? let them come before Master constable .
+
+Yea , marry , let them come before me .
+What is your name , friend ?
+
+Borachio .
+
+Pray write down Borachio . Yours , sirrah ?
+
+I am a gentleman , sir , and my name is Conrade .
+
+Write down Master gentleman Conrade . Masters , do you serve God ?
+
+Yea , sir , we hope .
+
+Yea , sir , we hope .
+
+Write down that they hope they serve God : and write God first ; for God defend but God should go before such villains ! Masters , it is proved already that you are little better than false knaves , and it will go near to be thought so shortly . How answer you for yourselves ?
+
+Marry , sir , we say we are none .
+
+A marvellous witty fellow , I assure you ; but I will go about with him . Come you hither , sirrah ; a word in your ear : sir , I say to you , it is thought you are false knaves .
+
+Sir , I say to you we are none .
+
+Well , stand aside . 'Fore God , they are both in a tale . Have you writ down , that they are none ?
+
+Master constable , you go not the way to examine : you must call forth the watch that are their accusers .
+
+Yea , marry , that's the eftest way . Let the watch come forth . Masters , I charge you , in the prince's name , accuse these men .
+
+This man said , sir , that Don John , the prince's brother , was a villain .
+
+Write down Prince John a villain .
+Why , this is flat perjury , to call a prince's brother villain .
+
+Master constable ,
+
+Pray thee , fellow , peace : I do not like thy look , I promise thee .
+
+What heard you him say else ?
+
+Marry , that he had received a thousand ducats of Don John for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully .
+
+Flat burglary as ever was committed .
+
+Yea , by the mass , that it is .
+
+What else , fellow ?
+
+And that Count Claudio did mean , upon his words , to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly , and not marry her .
+
+O villain ! thou wilt be condemned into everlasting redemption for this .
+
+What else ?
+
+This is all .
+
+And this is more , masters , than you can deny . Prince John is this morning secretly stolen away : Hero was in this manner accused , in this very manner refused , and , upon the grief of this , suddenly died . Master constable , let these men be bound , and brought to Leonato's : I will go before and show him their examination .
+
+
+Come , let them be opinioned .
+
+Let them be in the hands
+
+Off , coxcomb !
+
+God's my life ! where's the sexton ? let him write down the prince's officer coxcomb . Come , bind them . Thou naughty varlet !
+
+Away ! you are an ass ; you are an ass .
+
+Dost thou not suspect my place ? Dost thou not suspect my years ? O that he were here to write me down an ass ! but , masters , remember that I am an ass ; though it be not written down , yet forget not that I am an ass . No , thou villain , thou art full of piety , as shall be proved upon thee by good witness . I am a wise fellow ; and , which is more , an officer ; and , which is more , a householder ; and , which is more , as pretty a piece of flesh as any in Messina ; and one that knows the law , go to ; and a rich fellow enough , go to ; and a fellow that hath had losses ; and one that hath two gowns , and everything handsome about him . Bring him away . O that I had been writ down an ass !
+
+If you go on thus , you will kill yourself ;
+And 'tis not wisdom thus to second grief
+Against yourself .
+
+I pray thee , cease thy counsel ,
+Which falls into mine ears as profitless
+As water in a sieve : give not me counsel ;
+Nor let no comforter delight mine ear
+But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine :
+Bring me a father that so lov'd his child ,
+Whose joy of her is overwhelm'd like mine ,
+And bid him speak of patience ;
+Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine ,
+And let it answer every strain for strain ,
+As thus for thus and such a grief for such ,
+In every lineament , branch , shape , and form :
+If such a one will smile , and stroke his beard ;
+Bid sorrow wag , cry 'hem' when he should groan ,
+Patch grief with proverbs ; make misfortune drunk
+With candle-wasters ; bring him yet to me ,
+And I of him will gather patience .
+But there is no such man ; for , brother , men
+Can counsel and speak comfort to that grief
+Which they themselves not feel ; but , tasting it ,
+Their counsel turns to passion , which before
+Would give preceptial medicine to rage ,
+Fetter strong madness in a silken thread ,
+Charm ache with air and agony with words .
+No , no ; 'tis all men's office to speak patience
+To those that wring under the load of sorrow ,
+But no man's virtue nor sufficiency
+To be so moral when he shall endure
+The like himself . Therefore give me no counsel :
+My griefs cry louder than advertisement .
+
+Therein do men from children nothing differ .
+
+I pray thee , peace ! I will be flesh and blood ;
+For there was never yet philosopher
+That could endure the toothache patiently ,
+However they have writ the style of gods
+And made a push at chance and sufferance .
+
+Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself ;
+Make those that do offend you suffer too .
+
+There thou speak'st reason : nay , I will do so .
+My soul doth tell me Hero is belied ;
+And that shall Claudio know ; so shall the prince ,
+And all of them that thus dishonour her .
+
+Here come the prince and Claudio hastily .
+
+
+Good den , good den .
+
+Good day to both of you .
+
+Hear you , my lords ,
+
+We have some haste , Leonato .
+
+Some haste , my lord ! well , fare you well , my lord :
+Are you so hasty now ?well , all is one .
+
+Nay , do not quarrel with us , good old man .
+
+If he could right himself with quarrelling ,
+Some of us would lie low .
+
+Who wrongs him ?
+
+Marry , thou dost wrong me ; thou dissembler , thou .
+Nay , never lay thy hand upon thy sword ;
+I fear thee not .
+
+Marry , beshrew my hand ,
+If it should give your age such cause of fear .
+In faith , my hand meant nothing to my sword .
+
+Tush , tush , man ! never fleer and jest at me :
+I speak not like a dotard nor a fool ,
+As , under privilege of age , to brag
+What I have done being young , or what would do ,
+Were I not old . Know , Claudio , to thy head ,
+Thou hast so wrong'd mine innocent child and me
+That I am forc'd to lay my reverence by ,
+And , with grey hairs and bruise of many days ,
+Do challenge thee to trial of a man .
+I say thou hast belied mine innocent child :
+Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart ,
+And she lies buried with her ancestors ;
+O ! in a tomb where never scandal slept ,
+Save this of hers , fram'd by thy villany !
+
+My villany ?
+
+Thine , Claudio ; thine , I say .
+
+You say not right , old man .
+
+My lord , my lord ,
+I'll prove it on his body , if he dare ,
+Despite his nice fence and his active practice ,
+His May of youth and bloom of lustihood .
+
+Away ! I will not have to do with you .
+
+Canst thou so daff me ? Thou hast kill'd my child ;
+If thou kill'st me , boy , thou shalt kill a man .
+
+He shall kill two of us , and men indeed :
+But that's no matter ; let him kill one first :
+Win me and wear me ; let him answer me .
+Come , follow me , boy ; come , sir boy , come , follow me .
+Sir boy , I'll whip you from your foining fence ;
+Nay , as I am a gentleman , I will .
+
+Brother ,
+
+Content yourself . God knows I lov'd my niece ;
+And she is dead , slander'd to death by villains ,
+That dare as well answer a man indeed
+As I dare take a serpent by the tongue .
+Boys , apes , braggarts , Jacks , milksops !
+
+Brother Antony ,
+
+Hold you content . What , man ! I know them , yea ,
+And what they weigh , even to the utmost scruple ,
+Scrambling , out-facing , fashion-monging boys ,
+That lie and cog and flout , deprave and slander ,
+Go antickly , show outward hideousness ,
+And speak off half a dozen dangerous words ,
+How they might hurt their enemies , if they durst ;
+And this is all !
+
+But , brother Antony ,
+
+Come , 'tis no matter :
+Do not you meddle , let me deal in this .
+
+Gentlemen both , we will not wake your patience .
+My heart is sorry for your daughter's death ;
+But , on my honour , she was charg'd with nothing
+But what was true and very full of proof .
+
+My lord , my lord
+
+I will not hear you .
+
+No ?
+Come , brother , away . I will be heard .
+
+And shall , or some of us will smart for it .
+
+See , see ; here comes the man we went to seek .
+
+Now , signior , what news ?
+
+Good day , my lord .
+
+Welcome , signior : you are almost come to part almost a fray .
+
+We had like to have had our two noses snapped off with two old men without teeth .
+
+Leonato and his brother . What thinkest thou ? Had we fought , I doubt we should have been too young for them .
+
+In a false quarrel there is no true valour . I came to seek you both .
+
+We have been up and down to seek thee ; for we are high-proof melancholy , and would fain have it beaten away . Wilt thou use thy wit ?
+
+It is in my scabbard ; shall I draw it ?
+
+Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side ?
+
+Never any did so , though very many have been beside their wit . I will bid thee draw , as we do the minstrels ; draw , to pleasure us .
+
+As I am an honest man , he looks pale . Art thou sick , or angry ?
+
+What , courage , man ! What though care killed a cat , thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care .
+
+Sir , I shall meet your wit in the career , an you charge it against me . I pray you choose another subject .
+
+Nay then , give him another staff : this last was broke cross .
+
+By this light , he changes more and more : I think he be angry indeed .
+
+If he be , he knows how to turn his girdle .
+
+Shall I speak a word in your ear ?
+
+God bless me from a challenge !
+
+You are a villain ; I jest not : I will make it good how you dare , with what you dare , and when you dare . Do me right , or I will protest your cowardice . You have killed a sweet lady , and her death shall fall heavy on you . Let me hear from you .
+
+Well I will meet you , so I may have good cheer .
+
+What , a feast , a feast ?
+
+I' faith , I thank him ; he hath bid me to a calf's-head and a capon , the which if I do not carve most curiously , say my knife's naught .
+Shall I not find a woodcock too ?
+
+Sir , your wit ambles well ; it goes easily .
+
+I'll tell thee how Beatrice praised thy wit the other day . I said , thou hadst a fine wit . 'True ,' says she , 'a fine little one .' 'No ,' said I , 'a great wit .' 'Right ,' said she , 'a great gross one .' 'Nay ,' said I , 'a good wit .' 'Just ,' said she , 'it hurts nobody .' 'Nay ,' said I , 'the gentleman is wise .' 'Certain ,' said she , 'a wise gentleman .' 'Nay ,' said I , 'he hath the tongues .' 'That I believe ,' said she . 'for he swore a thing to me on Monday night , which he forswore on Tuesday morning : there's a double tongue ; there's two tongues .' Thus did she , an hour together , trans-shape thy particular virtues ; yet at last she concluded with a sigh , thou wast the properest man in Italy .
+
+For the which she wept heartily and said she cared not .
+
+Yea , that she did ; but yet , for all that , an if she did not hate him deadly , she would love him dearly . The old man's daughter told us all .
+
+All , all ; and moreover , God saw him when he was hid in the garden .
+
+But when shall we set the savage bull's horns on the sensible Benedick's head ?
+
+Yea , and text underneath , 'Here dwells Benedick the married man !'
+
+Fare you well , boy : you know my mind . I will leave you now to your gossip-like humour : you break jests as braggarts do their blades , which , God be thanked , hurt not . My lord , for your many courtesies I thank you : I must discontinue your company . Your brother the bastard is fled from Messina : you have , among you , killed a sweet and innocent lady . For my Lord Lack-beard there , he and I shall meet ; and till then , peace be with him .
+
+
+He is in earnest .
+
+In most profound earnest ; and , I'll warrant you , for the love of Beatrice .
+
+And hath challenged thee ?
+
+Most sincerely .
+
+What a pretty thing man is when he goes in his doublet and hose and leaves off his wit !
+
+He is then a giant to an ape ; but then is an ape a doctor to such a man .
+
+But , soft you ; let me be : pluck up , my heart , and be sad ! Did he not say my brother was fled ?
+
+
+Come , you , sir : if justice cannot tame you , she shall ne'er weigh more reasons in her balance . Nay , an you be a cursing hypocrite once , you must be looked to .
+
+How now ! two of my brother's men bound ! Borachio , one !
+
+Hearken after their offence , my lord .
+
+Officers , what offence have these men done ?
+
+Marry , sir , they have committed false report ; moreover , they have spoken untruths ; secondarily , they are slanders ; sixth and lastly , they have belied a lady ; thirdly , they have verified unjust things ; and to conclude , they are lying knaves .
+
+First , I ask thee what they have done ; thirdly , I ask thee what's their offence ; sixth and lastly , why they are committed ; and , to conclude , what you lay to their charge ?
+
+Rightly reasoned , and in his own division ; and , by my troth , there's one meaning well suited .
+
+Who have you offended , masters , that you are thus bound to your answer ? this learned constable is too cunning to be understood . What's your offence ?
+
+Sweet prince , let me go no further to mine answer : do you hear me , and let this count kill me . I have deceived even your very eyes : what your wisdoms could not discover , these shallow fools have brought to light ; who , in the night overheard me confessing to this man how Don John your brother incensed me to slander the Lady Hero ; how you were brought into the orchard and saw me court Margaret in Hero's garments ; how you disgraced her , when you should marry her . My villany they have upon record ; which I had rather seal with my death than repeat over to my shame . The lady is dead upon mine and my master's false accusation ; and , briefly , I desire nothing but the reward of a villain .
+
+Runs not this speech like iron through your blood ?
+
+I have drunk poison whiles he utter'd it .
+
+But did my brother set thee on to this ?
+
+Yea ; and paid me richly for the practice of it .
+
+He is compos'd and fram'd of treachery :
+And fled he is upon this villany .
+
+Sweet Hero ! now thy image doth appear
+In the rare semblance that I lov'd it first .
+
+Come , bring away the plaintiffs : by this time our sexton hath reformed Signior Leonato of the matter . And masters , do not forget to specify , when time and place shall serve , that I am an ass .
+
+Here , here comes Master Signior Leonato , and the sexton too .
+
+
+Which is the villain ? Let me see his eyes ,
+That , when I note another man like him ,
+I may avoid him . Which of these is he ?
+
+If you would know your wronger , look on me .
+
+Art thou the slave that with thy breath hast kill'd
+Mine innocent child ?
+
+Yea , even I alone .
+
+No , not so , villain ; thou beliest thyself :
+Here stand a pair of honourable men ;
+A third is fled , that had a hand in it .
+I thank you , princes , for my daughter's death
+Record it with your high and worthy deeds .
+'Twas bravely done , if you bethink you of it .
+
+I know not how to pray your patience ;
+Yet I must speak . Choose your revenge yourself ;
+Impose me to what penance your invention
+Can lay upon my sin : yet sinn'd I not
+But in mistaking .
+
+By my soul , nor I :
+And yet , to satisfy this good old man ,
+I would bend under any heavy weight
+That he'll enjoin me to .
+
+I cannot bid you bid my daughter live ;
+That were impossible : but , I pray you both ,
+Possess the people in Messina here
+How innocent she died ; and if your love
+Can labour aught in sad invention ,
+Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb ,
+And sing it to her bones : sing it to-night .
+To-morrow morning come you to my house ,
+And since you could not be my son-in-law ,
+Be yet my nephew . My brother hath a daughter ,
+Almost the copy of my child that's dead ,
+And she alone is heir to both of us :
+Give her the right you should have given her cousin ,
+And so dies my revenge .
+
+O noble sir ,
+Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me !
+I do embrace your offer ; and dispose
+For henceforth of poor Claudio .
+
+To-morrow then I will expect your coming ;
+To-night I take my leave . This naughty man
+Shall face to face be brought to Margaret ,
+Who , I believe , was pack'd in all this wrong ,
+Hir'd to it by your brother .
+
+No , by my soul she was not ;
+Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me ;
+But always hath been just and virtuous
+In anything that I do know by her .
+
+Moreover , sir ,which , indeed , is not under white and black ,this plaintiff here , the offender , did call me ass : I beseech you , let it be remembered in his punishment . And also , the watch heard them talk of one Deformed : they say he wears a key in his ear and a lock hanging by it , and borrows money in God's name , the which he hath used so long and never paid , that now men grow hard-hearted , and will lend nothing for God's sake . Pray you , examine him upon that point .
+
+I thank thee for thy care and honest pains .
+
+Your worship speaks like a most thankful and reverend youth , and I praise God for you .
+
+There's for thy pains .
+
+God save the foundation !
+
+Go , I discharge thee of thy prisoner , and I thank thee .
+
+I leave an arrant knave with your worship ; which I beseech your worship to corect yourself , for the example of others . God keep your worship ! I wish your worship well ; God restore you to health ! I humbly give you leave to depart , and if a merry meeting may be wished , God prohibit it ! Come , neighbour .
+
+
+Until to-morrow morning , lords , farewell .
+
+Farewell , my lords : we look for you to-morrow .
+
+We will not fail .
+
+To-night I'll mourn with Hero .
+
+
+Bring you these fellows on . We'll talk with Margaret ,
+How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow .
+
+
+Pray thee , sweet Mistress Margaret , deserve well at my hands by helping me to the speech of Beatrice .
+
+Will you then write me a sonnet in praise of my beauty ?
+
+In so high a style , Margaret , that no man living shall come over it ; for , in most comely truth , thou deservest it .
+
+To have no man come over me ! why , shall I always keep below stairs ?
+
+Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's mouth ; it catches .
+
+And yours as blunt as the fencer's foils , which hit , but hurt not .
+
+A most manly wit , Margaret ; it will not hurt a woman : and so , I pray thee , call Beatrice . I give thee the bucklers .
+
+Give us the swords , we have bucklers of our own .
+
+If you use them , Margaret , you must put in the pikes with a vice ; and they are dangerous weapons for maids .
+
+Well , I will call Beatrice to you , who I think hath legs .
+
+And therefore will come .
+
+
+The god of love ,
+That sits above ,
+And knows me , and knows me ,
+How pitiful I deserve ,
+
+I mean , in singing ; but in loving , Leander the good swimmer , Troilus the first employer of pandars , and a whole book full of these quondam carpet-mongers , whose names yet run smoothly in the even road of a blank verse , why , they were never so truly turned over and over as my poor self , in love . Marry , I cannot show it in rime ; I have tried : I can find out no rime to 'lady' but 'baby ,' an innocent rime ; for 'scorn ,' 'horn ,' a hard rime ; for 'school ,' 'fool ,' a babbling rime ; very ominous endings : no , I was not born under a riming planet , nor I cannot woo in festival terms .
+
+Sweet Beatrice , wouldst thou come when I called thee ?
+
+Yea , signior ; and depart when you bid me .
+
+O , stay but till then !
+
+'Then' is spoken ; fare you well now : and yet , ere I go , let me go with that I came for ; which is , with knowing what hath passed between you and Claudio .
+
+Only foul words ; and thereupon I will kiss thee .
+
+Foul words is but foul wind , and foul wind is but foul breath , and foul breath is noisome ; therefore I will depart unkissed .
+
+Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sense , so forcible is thy wit . But I must tell thee plainly , Claudio undergoes my challenge , and either I must shortly hear from him , or I will subscribe him a coward . And , I pray thee now , tell me , for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me ?
+
+For them all together ; which maintained so politic a state of evil that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them . But for which of my good parts did you first suffer love for me ?
+
+'Suffer love ,' a good epithet ! I do suffer love indeed , for I love thee against my will .
+
+In spite of your heart , I think . Alas , poor heart ! If you spite it for my sake , I will spite it for yours ; for I will never love that which my friend hates .
+
+Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably .
+
+It appears not in this confession : there's not one wise man among twenty that will praise himself .
+
+An old , an old instance , Beatrice , that lived in the time of good neighbours . If a man do not erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies , he shall live no longer in monument than the bell rings and the widow weeps .
+
+And how long is that think you ?
+
+Question : why , an hour in clamour and a quarter in rheum : therefore it is most expedient for the wise ,if Don Worm , his conscience , find no impediment to the contrary ,to be the trumpet of his own virtues , as I am to myself . So much for praising myself , who , I myself will bear witness , is praiseworthy . And now tell me , how doth your cousin ?
+
+Very ill .
+
+And how do you ?
+
+Very ill too .
+
+Serve God , love me , and mend . There will I leave you too , for here comes one in haste .
+
+
+Madam , you must come to your uncle . Yonder's old coil at home : it is proved , my Lady Hero hath been falsely accused , the prince and Claudio mightily abused ; and Don John is the author of all , who is fled and gone . Will you come presently ?
+
+Will you go hear this news , signior ?
+
+I will live in thy heart , die in thy lap , and be buried in thy eyes ; and moreover I will go with thee to thy uncle's .
+
+
+Is this the monument of Leonato ?
+
+It is , my lord .
+
+Done to death by slanderous tongues
+Was the Hero that here lies :
+Death , in guerdon of her wrongs ,
+Gives her fame which never dies .
+So the life that died with shame
+Lives in doath with glorious fame .
+
+Hang thou there upon the tomb ,
+Praising her when I am dumb .
+Now , music , sound , and sing your solemn hymn .
+
+Pardon , goddess of the night ,
+Those that slew thy virgin knight ;
+For the which , with songs of woe ,
+Round about her tomb they go .
+Midnight , assist our moan ;
+Help us to sigh and groan ,
+Heavily , heavily :
+Graves , yawn and yield your dead ,
+Till death be uttered ,
+Heavily , heavily .
+
+Now , unto thy bones good night !
+Yearly will I do this rite .
+
+Good morrow , masters : put your torches out .
+The wolves have prey'd ; and look , the gentle day ,
+Before the wheels of Ph bus , round about
+Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey .
+Thanks to you all , and leave us : fare you well
+
+Good morrow , masters : each his several way .
+
+Come , let us hence , and put on other weeds ;
+And then to Leonato's we will go .
+
+And Hymen now with luckier issue speed's ,
+Than this for whom we render'd up this woe !
+
+
+Did I not tell you she was innocent ?
+
+So are the prince and Claudio , who accus'd her
+Upon the error that you heard debated :
+But Margaret was in some fault for this ,
+Although against her will , as it appears
+In the true course of all the question .
+
+Well , I am glad that all things sort so well .
+
+And so am I , being else by faith enforc'd
+To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it .
+
+Well , daughter , and you gentlewomen all ,
+Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves ,
+And when I send for you , come hither mask'd :
+The prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour
+To visit me .
+
+You know your office , brother ;
+You must be father to your brother's daughter ,
+And give her to young Claudio .
+
+Which I will do with confirm'd countenance .
+
+Friar , I must entreat your pains , I think .
+
+To do what , signior ?
+
+To bind me , or undo me ; one of them .
+Signior Leonato , truth it is , good signior ,
+Your niece regards me with an eye of favour .
+
+That eye my daughter lent her : 'tis most true .
+
+And I do with an eye of love requite her .
+
+The sight whereof I think , you had from me ,
+From Claudio , and the prince . But what's your will ?
+
+Your answer , sir , is enigmatical :
+But , for my will , my will is your good will
+May stand with ours , this day to be conjoin'd
+In the state of honourable marriage :
+In which , good friar , I shall desire your help .
+
+My heart is with your liking .
+
+And my help .
+Here come the prince and Claudio .
+
+
+Good morrow to this fair assembly .
+
+Good morrow , prince ; good morrow , Claudio :
+We here attend you . Are you yet determin'd
+To-day to marry with my brother's daughter ?
+
+I'll hold my mind , were she an Ethiop .
+
+Call her forth , brother : here's the friar ready .
+
+
+Good morrow , Benedick . Why , what's the matter ,
+That you have such a February face ,
+So full of frost , of storm and cloudiness ?
+
+I think he thinks upon the savage bull .
+Tush ! fear not , man , we'll tip thy horns with gold ,
+And all Europa shall rejoice at thee ,
+As once Europa did at lusty Jove ,
+When he would play the noble beast in love .
+
+Bull Jove , sir , had an amiable low :
+And some such strange bull leap'd your father's cow ,
+And got a calf in that same noble feat ,
+Much like to you , for you have just his bleat .
+
+For this I owe you : here come other reckonings .
+
+Which is the lady I must seize upon ?
+
+This same is she , and I do give you her .
+
+Why , then she's mine . Sweet , let me see your face .
+
+No , that you shall not , till you take her hand
+Before this friar , and swear to marry her .
+
+Give me your hand : before this holy friar ,
+I am your husband , if you like of me .
+
+And when I liv'd , I was your other wife :
+
+And when you lov'd , you were my other husband .
+
+Another Hero !
+
+Nothing certainer :
+One Hero died defil'd , but I do live ,
+And surely as I live , I am a maid .
+
+The former Hero ! Hero that is dead !
+
+She died , my lord , but whiles her slander liv'd .
+
+All this amazement can I qualify :
+When after that the holy rites are ended ,
+I'll tell you largely of fair Hero's death :
+Meantime , let wonder seem familiar ,
+And to the chapel let us presently .
+
+Soft and fair , friar . Which is Beatrice ?
+
+I answer to that name . What is your will ?
+
+Do not you love me ?
+
+Why , no ; no more than reason .
+
+Why , then , your uncle and the prince and Claudio
+Have been deceived ; for they swore you did .
+
+Do not you love me ?
+
+Troth , no ; no more than reason .
+
+Why , then , my cousin , Margaret , and Ursula ,
+Are much deceiv'd ; for they did swear you did .
+
+They swore that you were almost sick for me .
+
+They swore that you were well-nigh dead for me .
+
+'Tis no such matter . Then , you do not love me ?
+
+No , truly , but in friendly recompense .
+
+Come , cousin , I am sure you love the gentleman .
+
+And I'll be sworn upon 't that he loves her ;
+For here's a paper written in his hand ,
+A halting sonnet of his own pure brain ,
+Fashion'd to Beatrice .
+
+And here's another ,
+Writ in my cousin's hand , stolen from her pocket ,
+Containing her affection unto Benedick .
+
+A miracle ! here's our own hands against our hearts . Come , I will have thee ; but , by this light , I take thee for pity .
+
+I would not deny you ; but , by this good day , I yield upon great persuasion , and partly to save your life , for I was told you were in a consumption .
+
+Peace ! I will stop your mouth .
+
+
+How dost thou , Benedick , the married man ?
+
+I'll tell thee what , prince ; a college of witcrackers cannot flout me out of my humour . Dost thou think I care for a satire or an epigram ? No ; if a man will be beaten with brains , a' shall wear nothing handsome about him . In brief , since I do purpose to marry , I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it ; and therefore never flout at me for what I have said against it , for man is a giddy thing , and this is my conclusion . For thy part , Claudio , I did think to have beaten thee ; but , in that thou art like to be my kinsman , live unbruised , and love my cousin .
+
+I had well hoped thou wouldst have denied Beatrice , that I might have cudgelled thee out of thy single life , to make thee a double-dealer ; which , out of question , thou wilt be , if my cousin do not look exceeding narrowly to thee .
+
+Come , come , we are friends . Let's have a dance ere we are married , that we may lighten our own hearts and our wives' heels .
+
+We'll have dancing afterward .
+
+First , of my word ; therefore play , music ! Prince , thou art sad ; get thee a wife , get thee a wife : there is no staff more reverend than one tipped with horn .
+
+
+My lord , your brother John is ta'en in flight ,
+And brought with armed men back to Messina .
+
+Think not on him till to-morrow : I'll devise thee brave punishments for him . Strike up , pipers !
+
+PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE
+
+
+To sing a song that old was sung ,
+From ashes ancient Gower is come ,
+Assuming man's infirmities ,
+To glad your ear , and please your eyes .
+It hath been sung at festivals ,
+On ember-eves , and holy-ales ;
+And lords and ladies in their lives
+Have read it for restoratives :
+The purchase is to make men glorious ;
+Et bonum quo antiquius , eo melius .
+If you , born in these latter times ,
+When wit's more ripe , accept my rimes ,
+And that to hear an old man sing
+May to your wishes pleasure bring ,
+I life would wish , and that I might
+Waste it for you like taper-light .
+This Antioch , then , Antiochus the Great
+Built up , this city , for his chiefest seat ,
+The fairest in all Syria ,
+I tell you what mine authors say :
+This king unto him took a fere ,
+Who died and left a female heir ,
+So buxom , blithe , and full of face
+As heaven had lent her all his grace ;
+With whom the father liking took ,
+And her to incest did provoke .
+Bad child , worse father ! to entice his own
+To evil should be done by none .
+By custom what they did begin
+Was with long use account no sin .
+The beauty of this sinful dame
+Made many princes thither frame ,
+To seek her as a bed-fellow ,
+In marriage-pleasures play-fellow :
+Which to prevent , he made a law ,
+To keep her still , and men in awe ,
+That whoso ask'd her for his wife ,
+His riddle told not , lost his life :
+So for her many a wight did die ,
+As yon grim looks do testify .
+What now ensues , to the judgment of your eye
+I give , my cause who best can justify .
+
+
+Young Prince of Tyre , you have at large receiv'd
+The danger of the task you undertake .
+
+I have , Antiochus , and , with a soul
+Embolden'd with the glory of her praise ,
+Think death no hazard in this enterprise .
+
+Bring in our daughter , clothed like a bride ,
+For the embracements even of Jove himself ;
+At whose conception , till Lucina reign'd ,
+Nature this dowry gave , to glad her presence ,
+The senate-house of planets all did sit ,
+To knit in her their best perfections .
+
+See , where she comes apparell'd like the spring ,
+Graces her subjects , and her thoughts the king
+Of every virtue gives renown to men !
+Her face the book of praises , where is read
+Nothing but curious pleasures , as from thence
+Sorrow were ever raz'd , and testy wrath
+Could never be her mild companion .
+You gods , that made me man , and sway in love ,
+That hath inflam'd desire in my breast
+To taste the fruit of you celestial tree
+Or die in the adventure , be my helps ,
+As I am son and servant to your will ,
+To compass such a boundless happiness !
+
+Prince Pericles ,
+
+That would be son to great Antiochus .
+
+Before thee stands this fair Hesperides ,
+With golden fruit , but dangerous to be touch'd ;
+For death-like dragons here affright thee hard :
+Her face , like heaven , enticeth thee to view
+Her countless glory , which desert must gain ;
+And which , without desert , because thine eye
+Presumes to reach , all thy whole heap must die .
+Yon sometime famous princes , like thyself ,
+Drawn by report , adventurous by desire ,
+Tell thee with speechless tongues and semblance pale ,
+That without covering , save yon field of stars ,
+They here stand martyrs , slain in Cupid's wars ;
+And with dead cheeks advise thee to desist
+For going on death's net , whom none resist .
+
+Antiochus , I thank thee , who hath taught
+My frail mortality to know itself ,
+And by those fearful objects to prepare
+This body , like to them , to what I must ;
+For death remember'd should be like a mirror ,
+Who tells us life's but breath , to trust it error .
+I'll make my will then ; and as sick men do ,
+Who know the world , see heaven , but feeling woe ,
+Gripe not at earthly joys as erst they did :
+So I bequeath a happy peace to you
+And all good men , as every prince should do ;
+My riches to the earth from whence they came ,
+
+But my unspotted fire of love to you .
+Thus ready for the way of life or death ,
+I wait the sharpest blow .
+
+Scorning advice , read the conclusion then ;
+Which read and not expounded , 'tis decreed ,
+As these before thee thou thyself shalt bleed .
+
+Of all say'd yet , mayst thou prove prosperous !
+Of all say'd yet , I wish thee happiness !
+
+Like a bold champion , I assume the lists ,
+Nor ask advice of any other thought
+But faithfulness and courage .
+
+I am no viper , yet I feed
+On mother's flesh which did me breed ;
+I sought a husband , in which labour
+I found that kindness in a father .
+He's father , son , and husband mild ,
+I mother , wife , and yet his child .
+How they may be , and yet in two ,
+As you will live , resolve it you .
+
+Sharp physic is the last : but , O you powers !
+That give heaven countless eyes to view men's acts ,
+Why cloud they not their sights perpetually ,
+If this be true , which makes me pale to read it ?
+Fair glass of light , I lov'd you , and could still ,
+Were not this glorious casket stor'd with ill :
+But I must tell you now my thoughts revolt ;
+For he's no man on whom perfections wait
+That , knowing sin within , will touch the gate .
+You're a fair viol , and your sense the strings ,
+Who , finger'd to make men his lawful music ,
+Would draw heaven down and all the gods to hearken ;
+But being play'd upon before your time ,
+Hell only danceth at so harsh a chime .
+Good sooth , I care not for you .
+
+Prince Pericles , touch not , upon thy life ,
+For that's an article within our law ,
+As dangerous as the rest . Your time's expir'd :
+Either expound now or receive your sentence .
+
+Great king ,
+Few love to hear the sins they love to act ;
+'Twould braid yourself too near for me to tell it .
+Who has a book of all that monarchs do ,
+He's more secure to keep it shut than shown ;
+For vice repeated is like the wandering wind ,
+Blows dust in others' eyes , to spread itself ;
+And yet the end of all is bought thus dear ,
+The breath is gone , and the sore eyes see clear
+To stop the air would hurt them . The blind mole casts
+Copp'd hills towards heaven , to tell the earth is throng'd
+By man's oppression ; and the poor worm doth die for 't .
+Kings are earth's gods ; in vice their law's their will ;
+And if Jove stray , who dares say Jove doth ill ?
+It is enough you know ; and it is fit ,
+What being more known grows worse , to smother it .
+All love the womb that their first being bred ,
+Then give my tongue like leave to love my head .
+
+Heaven ! that I had thy head ; he has found the meaning ;
+But I will gloze with him . Young Prince of Tyre ,
+Though by the tenour of our strict edict ,
+Your exposition misinterpreting ,
+We might proceed to cancel of your days ;
+Yet hope , succeeding from so fair a tree
+As your fair self , doth tune us otherwise :
+Forty days longer we do respite you ;
+If by which time our secret be undone ,
+This mercy shows we'll joy in such a son :
+And until then your entertain shall be
+As doth befit our honour and your worth .
+
+
+How courtesy would seem to cover sin ,
+When what is done is like a hypocrite ,
+The which is good in nothing but in sight !
+If it be true that I interpret false ,
+Then were it certain you were not so bad
+As with foul incest to abuse your soul ;
+Where now you're both a father and a son ,
+By your untimely claspings with your child ,
+Which pleasure fits a husband , not a father ;
+And she an eater of her mother's flesh ,
+By the defiling of her parent's bed ;
+And both like serpents are , who though they feed
+On sweetest flowers , yet they poison breed .
+Antioch , farewell ! for wisdom sees , those men
+Blush not in actions blacker than the night ,
+Will shun no course to keep them from the light .
+One sin , I know , another doth provoke ;
+Murder's as near to lust as flame to smoke .
+Poison and treason are the hands of sin ,
+Ay , and the targets , to put off the shame :
+Then , lest my life be cropp'd to keep you clear ,
+By flight I'll shun the danger which I fear .
+
+He hath found the meaning , for which we mean
+To take his head .
+He must not live to trumpet forth my infamy ,
+Nor tell the world Antiochus doth sin
+In such a loathed manner ;
+And therefore instantly this prince must die ,
+For by his fall my honour must keep high .
+Who attends us there ?
+
+
+Doth your highness call ?
+
+Thaliard ,
+You're of our chamber , and our mind partakes
+Her private actions to your secrecy ;
+And for your faithfulness we will advance you .
+Thaliard , behold , here's poison , and here's gold ;
+We hate the Prince of Tyre , and thou must kill him :
+It fits thee not to ask the reason why ,
+Because we bid it . Say , is it done ?
+
+My lord , 'tis done .
+
+Enough .
+
+Let your breath cool yourself , telling your haste .
+
+My lord , Prince Pericles is fled .
+
+
+As thou
+Wilt live , fly after ; and , as an arrow shot
+From a well-experienc'd archer hits the mark
+His eye doth level at , so thou ne'er return
+Unless thou say 'Prince Pericles is dead .'
+
+My lord ,
+If I can get him within my pistol's length ,
+I'll make him sure enough : so , farewell to your highness .
+
+Thaliard , adieu !
+
+Till Pericles be dead ,
+My heart can lend no succour to my head .
+
+
+Let none disturb us .
+Why should this change of thoughts ,
+The sad companion , dull-ey'd melancholy ,
+Be my so us'd a guest , as not an hour
+In the day's glorious walk or peaceful night
+The tomb where grief should sleep can breed me quiet ?
+Here pleasures court mine eyes , and mine eyes shun them ,
+And danger , which I feared , is at Antioch ,
+Whose arm seems far too short to hit me here ;
+Yet neither pleasure's art can joy my spirits ,
+Nor yet the other's distance comfort me .
+Then it is thus : the passions of the mind ,
+That have their first conception by mis-dread ,
+Have after-nourishment and life by care ;
+And what was first but fear what might be done ,
+Grows elder now and cares it be not done .
+And so with me : the great Antiochus ,
+'Gainst whom I am too little to contend ,
+Since he's so great can make his will his act ,
+Will think me speaking , though I swear to silence ;
+Nor boots it me to say I honour him ,
+If he suspect I may dishonour him ;
+And what may make him blush in being known ,
+He'll stop the course by which it might be known .
+With hostile forces he'll o'erspread the land ,
+And with the ostent of war will look so huge ,
+Amazement shall drive courage from the state ,
+Our men be vanquish'd ere they do resist ,
+And subjects punish'd that ne'er thought offence :
+Which care of them , not pity of myself ,
+Who am no more but as the tops of trees ,
+Which fence the roots they grow by and defend them ,
+Make both my body pine and soul to languish ,
+And punish that before that he would punish .
+
+
+Joy and all comfort in your sacred breast !
+
+And keep your mind , till you return to us ,
+Peaceful and comfortable .
+
+Peace , peace ! and give experience tongue .
+They do abuse the king that flatter him ;
+For flattery is the bellows blows up sin ;
+The thing the which is flatter'd , but a spark ,
+To which that blast gives heat and stronger glowing ;
+Whereas reproof , obedient and in order ,
+Fits kings , as they are men , for they may err :
+When Signior Sooth here does proclaim a peace ,
+He flatters you , makes war upon your life .
+Prince , pardon me , or strike me , if you please ;
+I cannot be much lower than my knees .
+
+All leave us else ; but let your cares o'erlook
+What shipping and what lading's in our haven ,
+And then return to us .
+
+Helicanus , thou
+Hast mov'd us ; what seest thou in our looks ?
+
+An angry brow , dread lord .
+
+If there be such a dart in prince's frowns ,
+How durst thy tongue move anger to our face ?
+
+How dare the plants look up to heaven , from whence
+They have their nourishment ?
+
+Thou know'st I have power
+To take thy life from thee .
+
+I have ground the axe myself ;
+Do you but strike the blow .
+
+Rise , prithee , rise ;
+Sit down ; thou art no flatterer :
+I thank thee for it ; and heaven forbid
+That kings should let their ears hear their faults hid !
+Fit counsellor and servant for a prince ,
+Who by thy wisdom mak'st a prince thy servant ,
+What wouldst thou have me do ?
+
+To bear with patience
+Such griefs as you yourself do lay upon yourself .
+
+Thou speak'st like a physician , Helicanus ,
+That minister'st a potion unto me
+That thou wouldst tremble to receive thyself .
+Attend me then : I went to Antioch ,
+Where as thou know'st , against the face of death
+I sought the purchase of a glorious beauty ,
+From whence an issue I might propagate
+Are arms to princes and bring joys to subjects .
+Her face was to mine eye beyond all wonder ;
+The rest , hark in thine ear , as black as incest ;
+Which by my knowledge found , the sinful father
+Seem'd not to strike , but smooth ; but thou know'st this ,
+'Tis time to fear when tyrants seem to kiss .
+Which fear so grew in me I hither fled ,
+Under the covering of a careful night ,
+Who seem'd my good protector ; and , being here ,
+Bethought me what was past , what might succeed .
+I knew him tyrannous ; and tyrants' fears
+Decrease not , but grow faster than the years .
+And should he doubt it , as no doubt he doth ,
+That I should open to the listening air
+How many worthy princes' bloods were shed ,
+To keep his bed of blackness unlaid ope ,
+To lop that doubt he'll fill this land with arms ,
+And make pretence of wrong that I have done him ;
+When all , for mine , if I may call 't , offence ,
+Must feel war's blow , who spares not innocence :
+Which love to all , of which thyself art one ,
+Who now reprov'st me for it ,
+
+Alas ! sir .
+
+Drew sleep out of mine eyes , blood from my cheeks ,
+Musings into my mind , with thousand doubts
+How I might stop this tempest , ere it came ;
+And finding little comfort to relieve them ,
+I thought it princely charity to grieve them .
+
+Well , my lord , since you have given me leave to speak ,
+Freely will I speak . Antiochus you fear ,
+And justly too , I think , you fear the tyrant ,
+Who either by public war or private treason
+Will take away your life .
+Therefore , my lord , go travel for a while ,
+Till that his rage and anger be forgot ,
+Or till the Destinies do cut his thread of life .
+Your rule direct to any ; if to me ,
+Day serves not light more faithful than I'll be .
+
+I do not doubt thy faith ;
+But should he wrong my liberties in my absence ?
+
+We'll mingle our bloods together in the earth ,
+From whence we had our being and our birth .
+
+Tyre , I now look from thee then , and to Tarsus
+Intend my travel , where I'll hear from thee ,
+And by whose letters I'll dispose myself .
+The care I had and have of subjects' good
+On thee I'll lay , whose wisdom's strength can bear it .
+I'll take thy word for faith , not ask thine oath ;
+Who shuns not to break one will sure crack both .
+But in our orbs we'll live so round and safe ,
+That time of both this truth shall ne'er convince ,
+Thou show'dst a subject's shine , I a true prince .
+
+
+So this is Tyre , and this the court . Here must I kill King Pericles ; and if I do not , I am sure to be hanged at home : 'tis dangerous . Well , I perceive he was a wise fellow , and had good discretion , that , being bid to ask what he would of the king , desired he might know none of his secrets : now do I see he had some reason for it ; for if a king bid a man be a villain , he is bound by the indenture of his oath to be one . Hush ! here come the lords of Tyre .
+
+
+You shall not need , my fellow peers of Tyre ,
+Further to question me of your king's departure :
+His seal'd commission , left in trust with me ,
+Doth speak sufficiently he's gone to travel .
+
+How ! the king gone !
+
+If further yet you will be satisfied ,
+Why , as it were unlicens'd of your loves ,
+He would depart , I'll give some light unto you .
+Being at Antioch
+
+What from Antioch ?
+
+Royal Antiochus on what cause I know not
+Took some displeasure at him , at least he judg'd so ;
+And doubting lest that he had err'd or sinn'd ,
+To show his sorrow he'd correct himself ;
+So puts himself unto the shipman's toil ,
+With whom each minute threatens life or death .
+
+Well , I perceive
+I shall not be hang'd now , although I would ;
+But since he's gone , the king it sure must please :
+He 'scap'd the land , to perish at the sea .
+I'll present myself .
+
+Peace to the lords of Tyre .
+
+Lord Thaliard from Antiochus is welcome .
+
+From him I come ,
+With message unto princely Pericles ;
+But since my landing I have understood
+Your lord hath betook himself to unknown travels ,
+My message must return from whence it came .
+
+We have no reason to desire it ,
+Commended to our master , not to us :
+Yet , ere you shall depart , this we desire ,
+As friends to Antioch , we may feast in Tyre .
+
+
+My Dionyza , shall we rest us here ,
+And by relating tales of others' griefs ,
+See if 'twill teach us to forget our own ?
+
+That were to blow at fire in hope to quench it ;
+For who digs hills because they do aspire
+Throws down one mountain to cast up a higher .
+O my distressed lord ! even such our griefs are ;
+Here they're but felt , and seen with mischief's eyes ,
+But like to groves , being topp'd , they higher rise .
+
+O Dionyza ,
+Who wanteth food , and will not say he wants it ,
+Or can conceal his hunger till he famish ?
+Our tongues and sorrows do sound deep
+Our woes into the air ; our eyes do weep
+Till tongues fetch breath that may proclaim them louder ;
+That if heaven slumber while their creatures want ,
+They may awake their helps to comfort them .
+I'll then discourse our woes , felt several years ,
+And wanting breath to speak help me with tears .
+
+I'll do my best , sir .
+
+This Tarsus , o'er which I have the government ,
+A city on whom plenty held full hand ,
+For riches strew'd herself even in the streets ;
+Whose towers bore heads so high they kiss'd the clouds ,
+And strangers ne'er beheld but wonder'd at ;
+Whose men and dames so jetted and adorn'd ,
+Like one another's glass to trim them by :
+Their tables were stor'd full to glad the sight ,
+And not so much to feed on as delight ;
+All poverty was scorn'd , and pride so great ,
+The name of help grew odious to repeat .
+
+O ! 'tis too true ,
+
+But see what heaven can do ! By this our change ,
+These mouths , whom but of late earth , sea , and air
+Were all too little to content and please ,
+Although they gave their creatures in abundance ,
+As houses are defil'd for want of use ,
+They are now starv'd for want of exercise ;
+Those palates who , not yet two summers younger ,
+Must have inventions to delight the taste ,
+Would now be glad of bread , and beg for it ;
+Those mothers who , to nousle up their babes ,
+Thought nought too curious , are ready now
+To eat those little darlings whom they lov'd .
+So sharp are hunger's teeth , that man and wife
+Draw lots who first shall die to lengthen life .
+Here stands a lord , and there a lady weeping ;
+Here many sink , yet those which see them fall
+Have scarce strength left to give them burial .
+Is not this true ?
+
+Our cheeks and hollow eyes do witness it .
+
+O ! let those cities that of plenty's cup
+And her prosperities so largely taste ,
+With their superfluous riots , hear these tears :
+The misery of Tarsus may be theirs .
+
+
+Where's the lord governor ?
+
+Here .
+Speak out thy sorrows which thou bring'st in haste ,
+For comfort is too far for us to expect .
+
+We have descried , upon our neighbouring shore ,
+A portly sail of ships make hitherward .
+
+I thought as much .
+One sorrow never comes but brings an heir
+That may succeed as his inberitor ;
+And so in ours . Some neighbouring nation ,
+Taking advantage of our misery ,
+Hath stuff'd these hollow vessels with their power ,
+To beat us down , the which are down already ;
+And make a conquest of unhappy me ,
+Whereas no glory's got to overcome .
+
+That's the least fear ; for by the semblance
+Of their white flags display'd , they bring us peace ,
+And come to us as favourers , not as foes .
+
+Thou speak'st like him 's untutor'd to repeat :
+Who makes the fairest show means most deceit .
+But bring they what they will and what they can ,
+What need we fear ?
+The ground's the lowest and we are half way there .
+Go tell their general we attend him here ,
+To know for what he comes , and whence he comes ,
+And what he craves .
+
+I go , my lord .
+
+
+Welcome is peace if he on peace consist ;
+If wars we are unable to resist .
+
+
+Lord governor , for so we hear you are ,
+Let not our ships and number of our men ,
+Be like a beacon fir'd to amaze your eyes .
+We have heard your miseries as far as Tyre ,
+And seen the desolation of your streets :
+Nor come we to add sorrow to your tears ,
+But to relieve them of their heavy load ;
+And these our ships , you happily may think
+Are like the Trojan horse was stuff'd within
+With bloody veins , expecting overthrow ,
+Are stor'd with corn to make your needy bread ,
+And give them life whom hunger starv'd half dead .
+
+The gods of Greece protect you !
+And we'll pray for you .
+
+Arise , I pray you , rise :
+We do not look for reverence , but for love ,
+And harbourage for ourself , our ships , and men .
+
+The which when any shall not gratify ,
+Or pay you with unthankfulness in thought ,
+Be it our wives , our children , or ourselves ,
+The curse of heaven and men succeed their evils !
+Till when the which , I hope , shall ne'er be seen
+Your Grace is welcome to our town and us .
+
+Which welcome we'll accept ; feast here awhile ,
+Until our stars that frown lend us a smile .
+
+Here have you seen a mighty king
+His child , I wis , to incest bring ;
+A better prince and benign lord ,
+That will prove awful both in deed and word .
+Be quiet , then , as men should be ,
+Till he hath pass'd necessity .
+I'll show you those in troubles reign ,
+Losing a mite , a mountain gain .
+The good in conversation ,
+To whom I give my benison ,
+Is still at Tarsus , where each man
+Thinks all is writ he speken can ;
+And , to remember what he does ,
+Build his statue to make him glorious :
+But tidings to the contrary
+Are brought your eyes ; what need speak I ?
+
+
+Good Helicane hath stay'd at home ,
+Not to eat honey like a drone
+From others' labours ; for though he strive
+To killen bad , keep good alive ,
+And to fulfil his prince' desire ,
+Sends word of all that haps in Tyre :
+How Thaliard came full bent with sin
+And had intent to murder him ;
+And that in Tarsus was not best
+Longer for him to make his rest .
+He , doing so , put forth to seas ,
+Where when men been , there's seldom ease ;
+For now the wind begins to blow ;
+Thunder above and deeps below
+Make such unquiet , that the ship
+Should house him safe is wrack'd and split ;
+And he , good prince , having all lost ,
+By waves from coast to coast is tost .
+All perishen of man , of pelf ,
+Ne aught escapen but himself ;
+Till Fortune , tir'd with doing bad ,
+Threw him ashore , to give him glad ;
+And here he comes . What shall be next ,
+Pardon old Gower , this longs the text .
+
+Yet cease your ire , you angry stars of heaven !
+Wind , rain , and thunder , remember , earthly man
+Is but a substance that must yield to you ;
+And I , as fits my nature , do obey you .
+Alas ! the sea hath cast me on the rocks ,
+Wash'd me from shore to shore , and left me breath
+Nothing to think on but ensuing death :
+Let it suffice the greatness of your powers
+To have bereft a prince of all his fortunes ;
+And having thrown him from your watery grave ,
+Here to have death in peace is all he'll crave .
+
+
+What , ho , Pilch !
+
+Ha ! come and bring away the nets .
+
+What , Patch-breech , I say !
+
+What say you , master ?
+
+Look how thou stirrest now ! come away , or I'll fetch thee with a wannion .
+
+Faith , master , I am thinking of the poor men that were cast away before us even now .
+
+Alas ! poor souls ; it grieved my heart to hear what pitiful cries they made to us to help them , when , well-a-day , we could scarce help ourselves .
+
+Nay , master , said not I as much when I saw the porpus how he bounced and tumbled ? they say they're half fish half flesh ; a plague on them ! they ne'er come but I look to be washed . Master , I marvel how the fishes live in the sea .
+
+Why , as men do a-land ; the great ones eat up the little ones ; I can compare our rich misers to nothing so fitly as to a whale ; a' plays and tumbles , driving the poor fry before him , and at last devours them all at a mouthful . Such whales have I heard on o' the land , who never leave gaping till they've swallowed the whole parish , church , steeple , bells , and all .
+
+A pretty moral .
+
+But master , if I had been the sexton , I would have been that day in the belfry .
+
+Why , man ?
+
+Because he should have swallowed me too ; and when I had been in his belly , I would have kept such a jangling of the bells , that he should never have left till he cast bells , steeple , church , and parish , up again . But if the good King Simonides were of my mind ,
+
+Simonides !
+
+We would purge the land of these drones , that rob the bee of her honey .
+
+How from the finny subject of the sea
+These fishers tell the infirmities of men ;
+And from their watery empire recollect
+All that may men approve or men detect !
+
+
+Peace be at your labour , honest fishermen .
+
+Honest ! good fellow , what's that ? if it be a day fits you , search out of the calendar , and nobody look after it .
+
+Y' may see the sea hath cast me on your coast .
+
+What a drunken knave was the sea , to cast thee in our way !
+
+A man whom both the waters and the wind ,
+In that vast tennis-court , have made the ball
+For them to play upon , entreats you pity him ;
+He asks of you , that never us'd to beg .
+
+No , friend , cannot you beg ? here's them in our country of Greece gets more with begging than we can do with working .
+
+Canst thou catch any fishes then ?
+
+I never practised it .
+
+Nay then thou wilt starve , sure ; for here's nothing to be got now-a-days unless thou canst fish for 't .
+
+What I have been I have forgot to know ,
+But what I am want teaches me to think on ;
+A man throng'd up with cold ; my veins are chill ,
+And have no more of life than may suffice
+To give my tongue that heat to ask your help ;
+Which if you shall refuse , when I am dead ,
+For that I am a man , pray see me buried .
+
+Die , quoth-a ? Now , gods forbid ! I have a gown here ; come , put it on ; keep thee warm . Now , afore me , a handsome fellow ! Come , thou shalt go home , and we'll have flesh for holidays , fish for fasting-days , and moreo'er puddings and flap-jacks ; and thou shalt be welcome .
+
+I thank you , sir .
+
+Hark you , my friend ; you said you could not beg .
+
+I did but crave .
+
+But crave ! Then I'll turn craver too , and so I shall 'scape whipping .
+
+Why , are all your beggars whipped , then ?
+
+O ! not all , my friend , not all ; for if all your beggars were whipped , I would wish no better office than to be beadle . But , master , I'll go draw up the net .
+
+
+How well this honest mirth becomes their labour !
+
+Hark you , sir ; do you know where ye are ?
+
+Not well .
+
+Why , I'll tell you : this is called Pentapolis , and our king the good Simonides .
+
+The good King Simonides do you call him ?
+
+Ay , sir ; and he deserves to be so called for his peaceable reign and good government .
+
+He is a happy king , since he gains from his subjects the name of good by his government . How far is his court distant from this shore ?
+
+Marry , sir , half a day's journey ; and I'll tell you , he hath a fair daughter , and to-morrow is her birthday ; and there are princes and knights come from all parts of the world to just and tourney for her love .
+
+Were my fortunes equal to my desires , I could wish to make one there .
+
+O ! sir , things must be as they may ; and what a man cannot get , he may lawfully deal for his wife's soul ,
+
+
+Help , master , help ! here's a fish hangs in the net , like a poor man's right in the law ; 'twill hardly come out . Ha ! bots on 't , 'tis come at last , and 'tis turned to a rusty armour .
+
+An armour , friends ! I pray you , let me see it .
+Thanks , Fortune , yet , that after all my crosses
+Thou giv'st me somewhat to repair myself ;
+And though it was mine own , part of mine heritage ,
+Which my dead father did bequeath to me ,
+With this strict charge , even as he left his life ,
+'Keep it , my Pericles , it hath been a shield
+'Twixt me and death ;' and pointed to this brace ;
+'For that it sav'd me , keep it ; in like necessity
+The which the gods protect thee from !'t may defend thee .'
+It kept where I kept , I so dearly lov'd it ;
+Till the rough seas , that spare not any man ,
+Took it in rage , though calm'd they have given 't again .
+I thank thee for 't ; my shipwrack now 's no ill ,
+Since I have here my father's gift in 's will .
+
+What mean you , sir ?
+
+To beg of you , kind friends , this coat of worth ,
+For it was sometime target to a king ;
+I know it by this mark . He lov'd me dearly ,
+And for his sake I wish the having of it ;
+And that you'd guide me to your sovereign's court ,
+Where with it I may appear a gentleman ;
+And if that ever my low fortunes better ,
+I'll pay your bounties ; till then rest your debtor .
+
+Why , wilt thou tourney for the lady ?
+
+I'll show the virtue I have borne in arms .
+
+Why , do'e take it ; and the gods give thee good on 't !
+
+Ay , but hark you , my friend ; 'twas we that made up this garment through the rough seams of the water ; there are certain condolements , certain vails . I hope , sir , if you thrive , you'll remember from whence you had it .
+
+Believe it , I will .
+By your furtherance I am cloth'd in steel ;
+And spite of all the rapture of the sea ,
+This jewel holds his biding on my arm :
+Unto thy value will I mount myself
+Upon a courser , whose delightful steps
+Shall make the gazer joy to see him tread .
+Only , my friend , I yet am unprovided
+Of a pair of bases .
+
+We'll sure provide ; thou shalt have my best gown to make thee a pair , and I'll bring thee to the court myself .
+
+Then honour be but a goal to my will ! This day I'll rise , or else add ill to ill .
+
+Are the knights ready to begin the triumph ?
+
+They are , my liege ;
+And stay your coming to present themselves .
+
+Return them , we are ready ; and our daughter ,
+In honour of whose birth these triumphs are ,
+Sits here , like beauty's child , whom nature gat
+For men to see , and seeing wonder at .
+
+
+It pleaseth you , my royal father , to express
+My commendations great , whose merit's less .
+
+'Tis fit it should be so ; for princes are
+A model , which heaven makes like to itself :
+As jewels lose their glory if neglected ,
+So princes their renowns if not respected .
+'Tis now your honour , daughter , to explain
+The labour of each knight in his device .
+
+Which , to preserve mine honour , I'll perform .
+
+
+Who is the first that doth prefer himself ?
+
+A knight of Sparta , my renowned father ;
+And the device he bears upon his shield
+Is a black Ethiop reaching at the sun ;
+The word , Lux tua vita mihi .
+
+He loves you well that holds his life of you .
+
+Who is the second that presents himself ?
+
+A prince of Macedon , my royal father ;
+And the device he bears upon his shield
+Is an arm'd knight that's conquer'd by a lady ;
+The motto thus , in Spanish , Piu por dulzura que por fuerza .
+
+
+And what's the third ?
+
+The third of Antioch ;
+And his device , a wreath of chivalry ;
+The word , Me pomp provexit apex .
+
+
+What is the fourth ?
+
+A burning torch that's turned upside down ;
+The word , Quod me alit me extinguit .
+
+Which shows that beauty hath his power and will ,
+Which can as well inflame as it can kill .
+
+
+The fifth , a hand environed with clouds ,
+Holding out gold that's by the touchstone tried ;
+The motto thus , Sic spectanda fides .
+
+
+And what 's
+The sixth and last , the which the knight himself
+With such a graceful courtesy deliver'd ?
+
+He seems to be a stranger ; but his present is
+A wither'd branch , that's only green at top ;
+The motto , In hac spe vivo .
+
+A pretty moral ;
+From the dejected state wherein he is ,
+He hopes by you his fortune yet may flourish .
+
+He had need mean better than his outward show
+Can any way speak in his just commend ;
+For , by his rusty outside he appears
+To have practis'd more the whipstock than the lance .
+
+He well may be a stranger , for he comes
+To an honour'd triumph strangely furnished .
+
+And on set purpose let his armour rust
+Until this day , to scour it in the dust .
+
+Opinion's but a fool , that makes us scan
+The outward habit by the inward man .
+But stay , the knights are coming ; we'll withdraw
+Into the gallery .
+
+
+Knights ,
+To say you're welcome were superfluous .
+To place upon the volume of your deeds ,
+As in a title-page , your worth in arms ,
+Were more than you expect , or more than's fit ,
+Since every worth in show commends itself .
+Prepare for mirth , for mirth becomes a feast :
+You are princes and my guests .
+
+But you , my knight and guest ;
+To whom this wreath of victory I give ,
+And crown you king of this day's happiness .
+
+'Tis more by fortune , lady , than by merit .
+
+Call it by what you will , the day is yours ;
+And here , I hope , is none that envies it .
+In framing an artist art hath thus decreed ,
+To make some good , but others to exceed ;
+And you're her labour'd scholar . Come , queen o' the feast ,
+For , daughter , so you are ,here take your place ;
+Marshal the rest , as they deserve their grace .
+
+We are honour'd much by good Simonides .
+
+Your presence glads our days ; honour we love ,
+For who hates honour , hates the gods above .
+
+Sir , yonder is your place .
+
+Some other is more fit .
+
+Contend not , sir ; for we are gentlemen
+That neither in our hearts nor outward eyes
+Envy the great nor do the low despise .
+
+You are right courteous knights .
+
+Sit , sir ; sit .
+
+By Jove , I wonder , that is king of thoughts ,
+These cates resist me , she but thought upon .
+
+By Juno , that is queen of marriage ,
+All viands that I eat do seem unsavoury ,
+Wishing him my meat . Sure , he's a gallant gentleman .
+
+He's but a country gentleman ;
+He has done no more than other knights have done ;
+He has broken a staff or so ; so let it pass .
+
+To me he seems like diamond to glass .
+
+Yon king's to me like to my father's picture ,
+Which tells me in that glory once he was ;
+Had princes sit , like stars , about his throne ,
+And he the sun for them to reverence .
+None that beheld him , but like lesser lights
+Did vail their crowns to his supremacy ;
+Where now his son's like a glow-worm in the night ,
+The which hath fire in darkness , none in light :
+Whereby I see that Time's the king of men ;
+He's both their parent , and he is their grave ,
+And gives them what he will , not what they crave .
+
+What , are you merry , knights ?
+
+Who can be other in this royal presence ?
+
+Here , with a cup that's stor'd unto the brim ,
+As you do love , fill to your mistress' lips ,
+We drink this health to you .
+
+We thank your Grace .
+
+Yet pause awhile ;
+Yon knight doth sit too melancholy ,
+As if the entertainment in our court
+Had not a show might countervail his worth .
+Note it not you , Thaisa ?
+
+What is it
+To me , my father ?
+
+O ! attend , my daughter :
+Princes in this should live like gods above ,
+Who freely give to every one that comes
+To honour them ;
+And princes not doing so are like to gnats ,
+Which make a sound , but kill'd are wonder'd at .
+Therefore to make his entrance more sweet ,
+Here say we drink this standing-bowl of wine to him .
+
+Alas ! my father , it befits not me
+Unto a stranger knight to be so bold ;
+He may my proffer take for an offence ,
+Since men take women's gifts for impudence .
+
+How !
+Do as I bid you , or you'll move me else .
+
+Now , by the gods , he could not please me better .
+
+And further tell him , we desire to know of him ,
+Of whence he is , his name , and parentage .
+
+The king , my father , sir , has drunk to you .
+
+I thank him .
+
+Wishing it so much blood unto your life .
+
+I thank both him and you , and pledge him freely .
+
+And further he desires to know of you ,
+Of whence you are , your name and parentage .
+
+A gentleman of Tyre , my name , Pericles ;
+My education been in arts and arms ;
+Who , looking for adventures in the world ,
+Was by the rough seas reft of ships and men ,
+And after shipwrack , driven upon this shore .
+
+He thanks your Grace ; names himself Pericles ,
+A gentleman of Tyre ,
+Who only by misfortune of the seas
+Bereft of ships and men , cast on this shore .
+
+Now , by the gods , I pity his misfortune ,
+And will awake him from his melancholy .
+Come , gentlemen , we sit too long on trifles ,
+And waste the time which looks for other revels .
+Even in your armours , as you are address'd ,
+Will very well become a soldier's dance .
+I will not have excuse , with saying this
+Loud music is too harsh for ladies' heads
+Since they love men in arms as well as beds .
+
+So this was well ask'd , 'twas so well perform'd .
+Come , sir ;
+Here is a lady that wants breathing too :
+And I have often heard , you knights of Tyre
+Are excellent in making ladies trip ,
+And that their measures are as excellent .
+
+In those that practise them they are , my lord .
+
+O ! that's as much as you would be denied
+Of your fair courtesy .
+
+Unclasp , unclasp ;
+Thanks , gentlemen , to all ; all have done well ,
+
+
+But you the best . Pages and lights , to conduct
+These knights unto their several lodgings ! Yours , sir ,
+We have given order to be next our own .
+
+I am at your Grace's pleasure .
+
+Princes , it is too late to talk of love ,
+And that's the mark I know you level at ;
+Therefore each one betake him to his rest ;
+To-morrow all for speeding do their best .
+
+
+No , Escanes , know this of me ,
+Antiochus from incest liv'd not free ;
+For which , the most high gods not minding longer
+To withhold the vengeance that they had in store ,
+Due to this heinous capital offence ,
+Even in the height and pride of all his glory ,
+When he was seated in a chariot
+Of an inestimable value , and his daughter with him ,
+A fire from heaven came and shrivell'd up
+Their bodies , even to loathing ; for they so stunk ,
+That all those eyes ador'd them ere their fall
+Scorn now their hand should give them burial .
+
+'Twas very strange .
+
+And yet but just ; for though
+This king were great , his greatness was no guard
+To bar heaven's shaft , but sin had his reward .
+
+'Tis very true .
+
+
+See , not a man in private conference
+Or council has respect with him but he .
+
+It shall no longer grieve without reproof .
+
+And curs'd be he that will not second it .
+
+Follow me then . Lord Helicane , a word .
+
+With me ? and welcome . Happy day , my lords .
+
+Know that our griefs are risen to the top ,
+And now at length they overflow their banks .
+
+Your griefs ! for what ? wrong not the prince you love .
+
+Wrong not yourself then , noble Helicane ;
+But if the prince do live , let us salute him ,
+Or know what ground's made happy by his breath .
+If in the world he live , we'll seek him out ;
+If in his grave he rest , we'll find him there ;
+And be resolv'd he lives to govern us ,
+Or dead , give 's cause to mourn his funeral ,
+And leaves us to our free election .
+
+Whose death's indeed the strongest in our censure :
+And knowing this kingdom is without a head ,
+Like goodly buildings left without a roof
+Soon fall to ruin , your noble self ,
+That best know'st how to rule and how to reign ,
+We thus submit unto , our sovereign .
+
+Live , noble Helicane !
+
+For honour's cause forbear your suffrages :
+If that you love Prince Pericles , forbear .
+Take I your wish , I leap into the seas ,
+Where's hourly trouble for a minute's ease .
+A twelvemonth longer , let me entreat you
+To forbear the absence of your king ;
+If in which time expir'd he not return ,
+I shall with aged patience bear your yoke .
+But if I cannot win you to this love ,
+Go search like nobles , like noble subjects ,
+And in your search spend your adventurous worth ;
+Whom if you find , and win unto return ,
+You shall like diamonds sit about his crown .
+
+To wisdom he's a fool that will not yield ;
+And since Lord Helicane enjoineth us ,
+We with our travels will endeavour it .
+
+Then you love us , we you , and we'll clasp hands :
+When peers thus knit , a kingdom ever stands .
+
+
+Good morrow to the good Simonides .
+
+Knights , from my daughter this I let you know ,
+That for this twelvemonth she'll not undertake
+A married life .
+Her reason to herself is only known ,
+Which yet from her by no means can I get .
+
+May we not get access to her , my lord ?
+
+Faith , by no means ; she hath so strictly tied
+Her to her chamber that 'tis impossible .
+One twelve moons more she'll wear Diana's livery ;
+This by the eye of Cynthia hath she vow'd ,
+And on her virgin honour will not break it .
+
+Though loath to bid farewell , we take our leaves .
+
+
+So ,
+They're well dispatch'd ; now to my daughter's letter .
+She tells me here , she'll wed the stranger knight ,
+Or never more to view nor day nor light .
+'Tis well , mistress ; your choice agrees with mine ;
+I like that well : how absolute she's in 't ,
+Not minding whether I dislike or no !
+Well , I do commend her choice ;
+And will no longer have it be delay'd .
+Soft ! here he comes : I must dissemble it .
+
+
+All fortune to the good Simonides !
+
+To you as much , sir ! I am beholding to you
+For your sweet music this last night : I do
+Protest my ears were never better fed
+With such delightful pleasing harmony
+
+It is your Grace's pleasure to commend ,
+Not my desert .
+
+Sir , you are music's master .
+
+The worst of all her scholars , my good lord .
+
+Let me ask you one thing .
+What do you think of my daughter , sir ?
+
+A most virtuous princess .
+
+And she is fair too , is she not ?
+
+As a fair day in summer ; wondrous fair .
+
+My daughter , sir , thinks very well of you ;
+Ay , so well , that you must be her master ,
+And she will be your scholar : therefore look to it .
+
+I am unworthy for her schoolmaster .
+
+She thinks not so ; peruse this writing else .
+
+What's here ?
+A letter that she loves the knight of Tyre !
+'Tis the king's subtilty to have my life .
+O ! seek not to entrap me , gracious lord ,
+A stranger and distressed gentleman ,
+That never aim'd so high to love your daughter ,
+But bent all offices to honour her .
+
+Thou hast bewitch'd my daughter , and thou art
+A villain .
+
+By the gods , I have not :
+Never did thought of mine levy offence ;
+Nor never did my actions yet commence
+A deed might gain her love or your displeasure .
+
+Traitor , thou liest .
+
+Traitor !
+
+Ay , traitor .
+
+Even in his throat , unless it be the king ,
+That calls me traitor , I return the lie .
+
+Now , by the gods , I do applaud his courage .
+
+My actions are as noble as my thoughts ,
+That never relish'd of a base descent .
+I came unto your court for honour's cause ,
+And not to be a rebel to her state ;
+And he that otherwise accounts of me ,
+This sword shall prove he's honour's enemy .
+
+No ?
+Here comes my daughter , she can witness it .
+
+
+Then , as you are as virtuous as fair ,
+Resolve your angry father , if my tongue
+Did e'er solicit , or my hand subscribe
+To any syllable that made love to you .
+
+Why , sir , say if you had ,
+Who takes offence at that would make me glad ?
+
+Yea , mistress , are you so peremptory ?
+
+
+I am glad on 't , with all my heart .
+I'll tame you ; I'll bring you in subjection .
+Will you , not having my consent ,
+Bestow your love and your affections
+Upon a stranger ?
+
+who , for aught I know ,
+May be , nor can I think the contrary ,
+As great in blood as I myself .
+
+
+Therefore , hear you , mistress ; either frame
+Your will to mine ; and you , sir , hear you ,
+Either be rul'd by me , or I will make you
+Man and wife :
+Nay , come , your hands and lips must seal it too ;
+And being join'd , I'll thus your hopes destroy ;
+And for a further grief ,God give you joy !
+What ! are you both pleas'd ?
+
+Yes , if you love me , sir .
+
+Even as my life , or blood that fosters it .
+
+What ! are you both agreed ?
+
+Yes , if 't please your majesty .
+
+Yes , if 't please your majesty .
+
+It pleaseth me so well , that I will see you wed ;
+Then with what haste you can get you to bed .
+
+Now sleep yslaked hath the rout ;
+No din but snores the house about ,
+Made louder by the o'er-fed breast
+Of this most pompous marriage-feast .
+The cat , with eyne of burning coal ,
+Now couches fore the mouse's hole ;
+And crickets sing at the oven's mouth ,
+E'er the blither for their drouth .
+Hymen hath brought the bride to bed ,
+Where , by the loss of maidenhead ,
+A babe is moulded . Be attent ;
+And time that is so briefly spent
+With your fine fancies quaintly eche ;
+What's dumb in show I'll plain with speech .
+
+
+By many a dern and painful perch ,
+Of Pericles the careful search
+By the four opposing coigns ,
+Which the world together joins ,
+Is made with all due diligence
+That horse and sail and high expense ,
+Can stead the quest . At last from Tyre ,
+Fame answering the most strange inquire
+To the court of King Simonides
+Are letters brought , the tenour these :
+Antiochus and his daughter dead ;
+The men of Tyrus on the head
+Of Helicanus would set on
+The crown of Tyre , but he will none :
+The mutiny he there hastes t' oppress ;
+Says to 'em , if King Pericles
+Come not home in twice six moons ,
+He , obedient to their dooms ,
+Will take the crown . The sum of this ,
+Brought hither to Pentapolis ,
+Yravished the regions round ,
+And every one with claps can sound ,
+'Our heir-apparent is a king !
+Who dream'd , who thought of such a thing ?'
+Brief , he must hence depart to Tyre :
+His queen , with child , makes her desire ,
+Which who shall cross ?along to go ;
+Omit we all their dole and woe :
+Lychorida , her nurse , she takes ,
+And so to sea . Their vessel shakes
+On Neptune's billow ; half the flood
+Hath their keel cut : but Fortune's mood
+Varies again ; the grisled north
+Disgorges such a tempest forth ,
+That , as a duck for life that dives ,
+So up and down the poor ship drives .
+The lady shrieks , and well-a-near
+Does fall in travail with her fear ;
+And what ensues in this fell storm
+Shall for itself itself perform .
+I nill relate , action may
+Conveniently the rest convey ,
+Which might not what by me is told .
+In your imagination hold
+This stage the ship , upon whose deck
+The sea-tost Pericles appears to speak .
+
+Thou God of this great vast , rebuke these surges ,
+Which wash both heaven and hell ; and thou , that hast
+Upon the winds command , bind them in brass ,
+Having call'd them from the deep . O ! still
+Thy deafening , dreadful thunders ; gently quench
+Thy nimble , sulphurous flashes . O ! how Lychorida ,
+How does my queen ? Thou stormest venomously ;
+Wilt thou spit all thyself ? The seaman's whistle
+Is as a whisper in the ears of death ,
+Unheard . Lychorida ! Lucina , O !
+Divinest patroness , and midwife gentle
+To those that cry by night , convey thy deity
+Aboard our dancing boat ; make swift the pangs
+Of my queen's travails !
+
+Now , Lychorida !
+
+Here is a thing too young for such a place ,
+Who , if it had conceit , would die , as I
+Am like to do : take in your arms this piece
+Of your dead queen .
+
+How , how , Lychorida !
+
+Patience , good sir ; do not assist the storm .
+Here's all that is left living of your queen ,
+A little daughter : for the sake of it ,
+Be manly , and take comfort .
+
+O you gods !
+Why do you make us love your goodly gifts ,
+And snatch them straight away ? We here below ,
+Recall not what we give , and therein may
+Use honour with you .
+
+Patience , good sir ,
+Even for this charge .
+
+Now , mild may be thy life !
+For a more blust'rous birth had never babe :
+Quiet and gentle thy conditions !
+For thou art the rudeliest welcome to this world
+That e'er was prince's child . Happy what follows !
+Thou hast as chiding a nativity
+As fire , air , water , earth , and heaven can make ,
+To herald thee from the womb ; even at the first
+Thy loss is more than can thy portage quit ,
+With all thou canst find here . Now , the good gods
+Throw their best eyes upon 't !
+
+
+What courage , sir ? God save you !
+
+Courage enough . I do not fear the flaw ;
+It hath done to me the worst . Yet for the love
+Of this poor infant , this fresh-new sea-farer ,
+I would it would be quiet .
+
+Slack the bolins there ! thou wilt not , wilt thou ? Blow , and split thyself .
+
+But sea-room , an the brine and cloudy billow kiss the moon , I care not .
+
+Sir , you queen must overboard : the sea works high , the wind is loud , and will not lie till the ship be cleared of the dead .
+
+That's your superstition .
+
+Pardon us , sir ; with us at sea it hath been still observed , and we are strong in custom . Therefore briefly yield her , for she must overboard straight .
+
+As you think meet . Most wretched queen !
+
+Here she lies , sir .
+
+A terrible child-bed hast thou had , my dear ;
+No light , no fire : the unfriendly elements
+Forgot thee utterly ; nor have I time
+To give thee hallow'd to thy grave , but straight
+Must cast thee , scarcely coffin'd , in the ooze ;
+Where , for a monument upon thy bones ,
+And aye-remaining lamps , the belching whale
+And humming water must o'erwhelm thy corpse ,
+Lying with simple shells ! O Lychorida !
+Bid Nestor bring me spices , ink and paper ,
+My casket and my jewels ; and bid Nicander
+Bring me the satin coffer : lay the babe
+Upon the pillow . Hie thee , whiles I say
+A priestly farewell to her : suddenly , woman .
+
+
+Sir , we have a chest beneath the hatches , caulk'd and bitumed ready .
+
+I thank thee . Mariner , say what coast is this ?
+
+We are near Tarsus .
+
+Thither , gentle mariner ,
+Alter thy course for Tyre . When canst thou reach it ?
+
+By break of day , if the wind cease .
+
+O ! make for Tarsus .
+There will I visit Cleon , for the babe
+Cannot hold out to Tyrus ; there I'll leave it
+At careful nursing . Go thy ways , good mariner ;
+I'll bring the body presently .
+
+
+Philemon , ho !
+
+
+Doth my lord call ?
+
+Get fire and meat for these poor men ;
+'T has been a turbulent and stormy night .
+
+I have been in many ; but such a night as this
+Till now I ne'er endur'd .
+
+Your master will be dead ere you return ;
+There's nothing can be minister'd to nature
+That can recover him .
+
+Give this to the 'pothecary ,
+And tell me how it works .
+
+Good morrow , sir .
+
+Good morrow to your lordship .
+
+Gentlemen ,
+Why do you stir so early ?
+
+Sir ,
+Our lodgings , standing bleak upon the sea ,
+Shook as the earth' did quake ;
+The very principals did seem to rend ,
+And all to topple . Pure surprise and fear
+Made me to quit the house .
+
+That is the cause we trouble you so early ;
+'Tis not our husbandry .
+
+O ! you say well .
+
+But I much marvel that your lordship , having
+Rich tire about you , should at these early hours
+Shake off the golden slumber of repose .
+'Tis most strange ,
+Nature should be so conversant with pain ,
+Being thereto not compell'd .
+
+I hold it ever ,
+Virtue and cunning were endowments greater
+Than nobleness and riches ; careless heirs
+May the two latter darken and expend ,
+But immortality attends the former ,
+Making a man a god . 'Tis known I ever
+Have studied physic , through which secret art ,
+By turning o'er authorities , I have
+Together with my practice made familiar
+To me and to my aid the blest infusions
+That dwell in vegetives , in metals , stones ;
+And can speak of the disturbances
+That nature works , and of her cures ; which doth give me
+A more content in course of true delight
+Than to be thirsty after tottering honour ,
+Or tie my treasure up in silken bags ,
+To please the fool and death .
+
+Your honour has through Ephesus pour'd forth
+Your charity , and hundreds call themselves
+Your creatures , who by you have been restor'd :
+And not your knowledge , your personal pain , but even
+Your purse , still open , hath built Lord Cerimon
+Such strong renown as time shall ne'er decay .
+
+
+So ; lift there .
+
+What is that ?
+
+Sir , even now
+Did the sea toss upon our shore this chest :
+'Tis of some wrack .
+
+Set it down ; let's look upon 't .
+
+'Tis like a coffin , sir .
+
+Whate'er it be ,
+'Tis wondrous heavy . Wrench it open straight ;
+If the sea's stomach be o'ercharg'd with gold ,
+'Tis a good constraint of fortune it belches upon us .
+
+'Tis so , my lord .
+
+How close 'tis caulk'd and bitumed !
+Did the sea cast it up ?
+
+I never saw so huge a billow , sir ,
+As toss'd it upon shore .
+
+Come , wrench it open .
+Soft ! it smells most sweetly in my sense .
+
+A delicate odour .
+
+As ever hit my nostril . So , up with it .
+O you most potent gods ! what's here ? a corse !
+
+Most strange !
+
+Shrouded in cloth of state ; balm'd and entreasur'd
+With full bags of spices ! A passport too !
+Apollo , perfect me i' the characters !
+
+Here I give to understand ,
+If e'er this coffin drive a-land ,
+I , King Pericles , have lost
+This queen worth all our mundane cost .
+Who finds her , give her burying ;
+She was the daughter of a king :
+Besides this treasure for a fee ,
+The gods requite his charity !
+
+If thou liv'st , Pericles , thou hast a heart
+That even cracks for woe ! This chanc'd to-night .
+
+Most likely , sir .
+
+Nay , certainly to-night ;
+For look , how fresh she looks . They were too rough
+That threw her in the sea . Make fire within ;
+Fetch hither all the boxes in my closet .
+
+Death may usurp on nature many hours ,
+And yet the fire of life kindle again
+The overpress'd spirits . I heard
+Of an Egyptian , that had nine hours lien dead ,
+Who was by good appliances recovered .
+
+
+Well said , well said ; the fire and cloths .
+The rough and woeful music that we have ,
+Cause it to sound , beseech you .
+The viol once more ;how thou stirr'st , thou block !
+The music there ! I pray you , give her air .
+Gentlemen ,
+This queen will live ; nature awakes , a warmth
+Breathes out of her ; she hath not been entranc'd
+Above five hours . See ! how she 'gins to blow
+
+Into life's flower again .
+
+The heavens
+Through you increase our wonder and set up
+Your fame for ever .
+
+She is alive ! behold ,
+Her eyelids , cases to those heavenly jewels
+Which Pericles hath lost ,
+Begin to part their fringes of bright gold ;
+The diamonds of a most praised water
+Do appear , to make the world twice rich . Live ,
+And make us weep to hear your fate , fair creature ,
+Rare as you seem to be !
+
+
+O dear Diana !
+Where am I ? Where's my lord ? What world is this ?
+
+Is not this strange ?
+
+Most rare .
+
+Hush , gentle neighbours !
+Lend me your hands ; to the next chamber bear her .
+Get linen ; now this matter must be look'd to ,
+For her relapse is mortal , Come , come ;
+And sculapius guide us !
+
+
+Most honour'd Cleon , I must needs be gone ;
+My twelve months are expir'd , and Tyrus stands
+In a litigious peace . You and your lady
+Take from my heart all thankfulness ; the gods
+Make up the rest upon you !
+
+Your shafts of fortune , though they hurt you mortally ,
+Yet glance full wanderingly on us .
+
+O your sweet queen !
+That the strict fates had pleas'd you had brought her hither ,
+To have bless'd mine eyes with her !
+
+We cannot but obey
+The powers above us . Could I rage and roar
+As doth the sea she lies in , yet the end
+Must be as 'tis . My gentle babe Marina whom ,
+For she was born at sea , I have nam'd so here
+I charge your charity withal , and leave her
+The infant of your care , beseeching you
+To give her princely training , that she may be
+Manner'd as she is born .
+
+Fear not , my lord , but think
+Your Grace , that fed my country with your corn
+For which the people's prayers still fall upon you
+Must in your child be thought on . If neglection
+Should therein make me vile , the common body ,
+By you reliev'd , would force me to my duty ;
+But if to that my nature need a spur ,
+The gods revenge it upon me and mine ,
+To the end of generation !
+
+I believe you ;
+Your honour and your goodness teach me to 't ,
+Without your vows . Till she be married , madam ,
+By bright Diana , whom we honour , all
+Unscissar'd shall this hair of mine remain ,
+Though I show ill in 't . So I take my leave .
+Good madam , make me blessed in your care
+In bringing up my child .
+
+I have one myself ,
+Who shall not be more dear to my respect
+Than yours , my lord .
+
+Madam , my thanks and prayers .
+
+We'll bring your Grace e'en to the edge o' the shore ;
+Then give you up to the mask'd Neptune and
+The gentlest winds of heaven .
+
+I will embrace
+Your offer . Come , dearest madam . O ! no tears ,
+Lychorida , no tears :
+Look to your little mistress , on whose grace
+You may depend hereafter . Come , my lord .
+
+
+Madam , this letter , and some certain jewels ,
+Lay with you in your coffer ; which are now
+At your command . Know you the character ?
+
+It is my lord's .
+That I was shipp'd at sea , I well remember ,
+Even on my eaning time ; but whether there
+Deliver'd , by the holy gods ,
+I cannot rightly say . But since King Pericles ,
+My wedded lord , I ne'er shall see again ,
+A vestal livery will I take me to ,
+And never more have joy .
+
+Madam , if this you purpose as you speak ,
+Diana's temple is not distant far ,
+Where you may abide till your date expire .
+Moreover , if you please , a niece of mine
+Shall there attend you .
+
+My recompense is thanks , that's all ;
+Yet my good will is great , though the gift small .
+
+Imagine Pericles arriv'd at Tyre ,
+Welcom'd and settled to his own desire .
+His woeful queen we leave at Ephesus ,
+Unto Diana there a votaress .
+Now to Marina bend your mind ,
+Whom our fast-growing scene must find
+At Tarsus , and by Cleon train'd
+In music , letters ; who hath gain'd
+Of education all the grace ,
+Which makes her bath the heart and places
+Of general wonder . But , alack !
+That monster envy , oft the wrack
+Of earned praise , Marina's life
+Seeks to take off by treason's knife .
+And in this kind hath our Cleon
+One daughter , and a wench full grown ,
+Even ripe for marriage-rite ; this maid
+Hight Philoten , and it is said
+For certain in our story , she
+Would ever with Marina be :
+Be 't when she weav'd the sleided silk
+With fingers , long , small , white as milk ,
+Or when she would with sharp neeld wound
+The cambric , which she made more sound
+By hurting it ; when to the lute
+She sung , and made the night-bird mute ,
+That still records with moan ; or when
+She would with rich and constant pen
+Vail to her mistress Dian ; still
+This Philoten contends in skill
+With absolute Marina : so
+With the dove of Paphos might the crow
+Vie feathers white . Marina gets
+All praises , which are paid as debts ,
+And not as given . This so darks
+In Philoten all graceful marks ,
+That Cleon's wife , with envy rare ,
+A present murderer does prepare
+For good Marina , that her daughter
+Might stand peerless by this slaughter .
+The sooner her vile thoughts to stead ,
+Lychorida , our nurse , is dead :
+And cursed Dionyza hath
+The pregnant instrument of wrath
+Prest for this blow . The unborn event
+I do commend to your content :
+Only I carry winged time
+Post on the lame feet of my rime ;
+Which never could I so convey ,
+Unless your thoughts went on my way .
+Dionyza doth appear ,
+With Leonine , a murderer .
+
+
+Thy oath remember ; thou hast sworn to do 't :
+'Tis but a blow , which never shall be known .
+Thou canst not do a thing i' the world so soon ,
+To yield thee so much profit . Let not conscience ,
+Which is but cold , inflaming love i' thy bosom ,
+Inflame too nicely ; nor let pity , which
+Even women have cast off , melt thee , but he
+A soldier to thy purpose .
+
+I'll do 't ; but yet she is a goodly creature .
+
+The fitter , then , the gods should have her . Here
+She comes weeping for her only mistress' death .
+Thou art resolv'd ?
+
+I am resolv'd .
+
+
+No , I will rob Tellus of her weed ,
+To strew thy green with flowers ; the yellows , blues ,
+The purple violets , and marigolds ,
+Shall as a carpet hang upon thy grave ,
+While summer days do last . Ay me ! poor maid ,
+Born in a tempest , when my mother died ,
+This world to me is like a lasting storm ,
+Whirring me from my friends .
+
+How now , Marina ! why do you keep alone ?
+How chance my daughter is not with you ? Do not
+Consume your blood with sorrowing ; you have
+A nurse of me . Lord ! how your favour's chang'd
+With this unprofitable woe . Come ,
+Give me your flowers , ere the sea mar it .
+Walk with Leonine ; the air is quick there ,
+And it pierces and sharpens the stomach . Come ,
+Leonine , take her by the arm , walk with her .
+
+No , I pray you ;
+I'll not bereave you of your servant .
+
+Come , come ;
+I love the king your father , and yourself ,
+With more than foreign heart . We every day
+Expect him here ; when he shall come and find
+Our paragon to all reports thus blasted ,
+He will repent the breadth of his great voyage ;
+Blame both my lord and me , that we have taken
+No care to your best courses . Go , I pray you ;
+Walk , and be cheerful once again ; reserve
+That excellent complexion , which did steal
+The eyes of young and old . Care not for me ;
+I can go home alone .
+
+Well , I will go ;
+But yet I have no desire to it .
+
+Come , come , I know 'tis good for you .
+Walk half an hour , Leonine , at least .
+Remember what I have said .
+
+I warrant you , madam .
+
+I'll leave you , my sweet lady , for a while ;
+Pray you walk softly , do not heat your blood :
+What ! I must have care of you .
+
+My thanks , sweet madam .
+
+Is this wind westerly that blows ?
+
+South-west .
+
+When I was born , the wind was north .
+
+Was 't so ?
+
+My father , as nurse said , did never fear ,
+But cried 'Good seamen !' to the sailors , galling
+His kingly hands haling ropes ;
+And , clasping to the mast , endur'd a sea
+That almost burst the deck .
+
+When was this ?
+
+When I was born :
+Never were waves nor wind more violent ;
+And from the ladder-tackle washes off
+A canvas-climber . 'Ha !' says one , 'wilt out ?'
+And with a dropping industry they skip
+From stem to stern ; the boatswain whistles , and
+The master calls , and trebles their confusion .
+
+Come ; say your prayers .
+
+What mean you ?
+
+If you require a little space for prayer ,
+I grant it . Pray ; but be not tedious ,
+For the gods are quick of ear , and I am sworn
+To do my work with haste .
+
+Why will you kill me ?
+
+To satisfy my lady .
+
+Why would she have me kill'd ?
+Now , as I can remember , by my troth ,
+I never did her hurt in all my life .
+I never spake bad word , nor did ill turn
+To any living creature ; believe me , la ,
+I never kill'd a mouse , nor hurt a fly ;
+I trod upon a worm against my will ,
+But I wept for it . How have I offended ,
+Wherein my death might yield her any profit ,
+Or my life imply her any danger ?
+
+My commission
+Is not to reason of the deed , but do 't .
+
+You will not do 't for all the world , I hope .
+You are well favour'd , and your looks foreshow
+You have a gentle heart . I saw you lately ,
+When you caught hurt in parting two that fought ;
+Good sooth , it show'd well in you ; do so now ;
+Your lady seeks my life ; come you between ,
+And save poor me , the weaker .
+
+I am sworn ,
+And will dispatch .
+
+
+Hold , villain !
+
+
+A prize ! a prize !
+
+Half-part , mates , half-part .
+Come , let's have her aboard suddenly .
+
+These roguing thieves serve the great pirate Valdes ;
+And they have seiz'd Marina . Let her go ;
+There's no hope she'll return . I'll swear she's dead ,
+And thrown into the sea . But I'll see further ;
+Perhaps they will but please themselves upon her ,
+Not carry her aboard . If she remain ,
+Whom they have ravish'd must by me be slain .
+
+
+Boult .
+
+Sir ?
+
+Search the market narrowly ; Mitylene is full of gallants ; we lost too much money this mart by being too wenchless .
+
+We were never so much out of creatures . We have but poor three , and they can do no more than they can do ; and they with continual action are even as good as rotten .
+
+Therefore , let's have fresh ones , whate'er we pay for them . If there be not a conscience to be used in every trade , we shall never prosper .
+
+Thou sayst true ; 'tis not the bringing up of poor bastards , as , I think , I have brought up some eleven
+
+Ay , to eleven ; and brought them down again . But shall I search the market ?
+
+What else , man ? The stuff we have a strong wind will blow it to pieces , they are so pitifully sodden .
+
+Thou sayst true ; they're too unwholesome , o' conscience . The poor Transylvanian is dead , that lay with the little baggage .
+
+Ay , she quickly pooped him ; she made him roast-meat for worms . But I'll go search the market .
+
+
+Three or four thousand chequins were as pretty a proportion to live quietly , and so give over .
+
+Why to give over , I pray you ? is it a shame to get when we are old ?
+
+O ! our credit comes not in like the commodity , nor the commodity wages not with the danger ; therefore , if in our youths we could pick up some pretty estate , 'twere not amiss to keep our door hatched . Besides , the sore terms we stand upon with the gods will be strong with us for giving over .
+
+Come , other sorts offend as well as we .
+
+As well as we ! ay , and better too ; we offend worse . Neither is our profession any trade ; it's no calling . But here comes Boult .
+
+
+Come your ways . My masters , you say she's a virgin ?
+
+O ! sir , we doubt it not .
+
+Master , I have gone through for this piece , you see : if you like her , so ; if not , I have lost my earnest .
+
+Boult , has she any qualities ?
+
+She has a good face , speaks well , and has excellent good clothes ; there's no further necessity of qualities can make her be refused .
+
+What's her price , Boult ?
+
+I cannot be bated one doit of a thousand pieces .
+
+Well , follow me , my masters , you shall have your money presently . Wife , take her in ; instruct her what she has to do , that she may not be raw in her entertainment .
+
+
+Boult , take you the marks of her , the colour of her hair , complexion , height , age , with warrant of her virginity ; and cry , 'He that will give most , shall have her first .' Such a maiden-head were no cheap thing , if men were as they have been . Get this done as I command you .
+
+Performance shall follow .
+
+
+Alack ! that Leonine was so slack , so slow .
+He should have struck , not spoke ; or that these pirates
+Not enough barbarous had not o'erboard thrown me
+For to seek my mother !
+
+Why lament you , pretty one ?
+
+That I am pretty .
+
+Come , the gods have done their part in you .
+
+I accuse them not .
+
+You are lit into my hands , where you are like to live .
+
+The more my fault
+To 'scape his hands where I was like to die .
+
+Ay , and you shall live in pleasure .
+
+No .
+
+Yes , indeed , shall you , and taste gentlemen of all fashions . You shall fare well ; you shall have the difference of all complexions . What ! do you stop your ears ?
+
+Are you a woman ?
+
+What would you have me be , an I be not a woman ?
+
+An honest woman , or not a woman .
+
+Marry , whip thee , gosling ; I think I shall have something to do with you . Come , you are a young foolish sapling , and must be bowed as I would have you .
+
+The gods defend me !
+
+If it please the gods to defend you by men , then men must comfort you , men must feed you , men must stir you up . Boult's returned .
+
+Now , sir , hast thou cried her through the market ?
+
+I have cried her almost to the number of her hairs ; I have drawn her picture with my voice .
+
+And I prithee , tell me , how dost thou find the inclination of the people , especially of the younger sort ?
+
+Faith , they listened to me , as they would have hearkened to their father's testament . There was a Spaniard's mouth so watered , that he went to bed to her very description .
+
+We shall have him here to-morrow with his best ruff on .
+
+To-night , to-night . But , mistress , do you know the French knight that cowers i' the hams ?
+
+Who ? Monsieur Veroles ?
+
+Ay ; he offered to cut a caper at the proclamation ; but he made a groan at it , and swore he would see her to-morrow .
+
+Well , well ; as for him , he brought his disease hither : here he does but repair it . I know he will come in our shadow , to scatter his crowns in the sun .
+
+Well , if we had of every nation a traveller , we should lodge them with this sign .
+
+Pray you , come hither awhile . You have fortunes coming upon you . Mark me : you must seem to do that fearfully , which you commit willingly ; to despise profit where you have most gain . To weep that you live as ye do makes pity in your lovers ; seldom but that pity begets you a good opinion , and that opinion a mere profit .
+
+I understand you not .
+
+O ! take her home , mistress , take her home ; these blushes of hers must be quenched with some present practice .
+
+Thou sayst true , i' faith , so they must ; for your bride goes to that with shame which is her way to go with warrant .
+
+Faith , some do , and some do not . But , mistress , if I have bargained for the joint ,
+
+Thou mayst cut a morsel off the spit .
+
+I may so ?
+
+Who should deny it ? Come , young one , I like the manner of your garments well .
+
+Ay , by my faith , they shall not be changed yet .
+
+Boult , spend thou that in the town ; report what a sojourner we have ; you'll lose nothing by custom . When nature framed this piece , she meant thee a good turn ; therefore say what a paragon she is , and thou hast the harvest out of thine own report .
+
+I warrant you , mistress , thunder shall not so awake the beds of eels as my giving out her beauty stir up the lewdly-inclined . I'll bring home some to-night .
+
+Come your ways ; follow me .
+
+If fires be hot , knives sharp , or waters deep ,
+Untied I still my virgin knot will keep .
+Diana , aid my purpose !
+
+What have we to do with Diana ?
+Pray you , will you go with us ?
+
+
+Why , are you foolish ? Can it be undone ?
+
+O Dionyza ! such a piece of slaughter
+The sun and moon ne'er look'd upon .
+
+I think
+You'll turn a child again .
+
+Were I chief lord of all this spacious world ,
+I'd give it to undo the deed . O lady !
+Much less in blood than virtue , yet a princess
+To equal any single crown o' the earth
+I' the justice of compare . O villain Leonine !
+Whom thou hast poison'd too ;
+If thou hadst drunk to him 't had been a kindness
+Becoming well thy fact ; what canst thou say
+When noble Pericles shall demand his child ?
+
+That she is dead . Nurses are not the fates ,
+To foster it , nor ever to preserve .
+She died at night ; I'll say so . Who can cross it ?
+Unless you play the pious innocent ,
+And for an honest attribute cry out
+'She died by foul play .'
+
+O ! go to . Well , well ,
+Of all the faults beneath the heavens , the gods
+Do like this worst .
+
+Be one of those that think
+The pretty wrens of Tarsus will fly hence ,
+And open this to Pericles . I do shame
+To think of what a noble strain you are ,
+And of how coward a spirit .
+
+To such proceeding
+Who ever but his approbation added ,
+Though not his prime consent , he did not flow
+From honourable sources .
+
+Be it so , then ;
+Yet none does know but you how she came dead ,
+Nor none can know , Leonine being gone .
+She did distain my child , and stood between
+Her and her fortunes ; none would look on her ,
+But cast their gazes on Marina's face ,
+Whilst ours was blurted at and held a malkin
+Not worth the time of day . It pierc'd me thorough ;
+And though you call my course unnatural ,
+You not your child well loving , yet I find
+It greets me as an enterprise of kindness
+Perform'd to your sole daughter .
+
+Heavens forgive it !
+
+And as for Pericles ,
+What should he say ? We wept after her hearse ,
+And even yet we mourn ; her monument
+Is almost finish'd , and her epitaphs
+In glittering golden characters express
+A general praise to her , and care in us
+At whose expense 'tis done .
+
+Thou art like the harpy ,
+Which , to betray , dost with thine angel's face ,
+Seize with thine eagle's talons .
+
+You are like one that superstitiously
+Doth swear to the gods that winter kills the flies ;
+But yet I know you'll do as I advise .
+
+Thus time we waste , and longest leagues make short ;
+Sail seas in cockles , have an wish but for 't ;
+Making to take your imagination
+From bourn to bourn , region to region .
+By you being pardon'd , we commit no crime
+To use one language in each several clime
+Where our scenes seem to live . I do beseech you
+To learn of me , who stand i' the gaps to teach you ,
+The stages of our story . Pericles
+Is now again thwarting the wayward seas ,
+Attended on by many a lord and knight ,
+To see his daughter , all his life's delight .
+Old Helicanus goes along . Behind
+Is left to govern it , you bear in mind ,
+Old Escanes , whom Helicanus late
+Advanc'd in time to great and high estate .
+Well-sailing ships and bounteous winds have brought
+This king to Tarsus , think his pilot thought ,
+So with his steerage shall your thoughts grow on ,
+To fetch his daughter home , who first is gone .
+Like motes and shadows see them move awhile ;
+Your ears unto your eyes I'll reconcile .
+
+
+See how belief may suffer by foul show !
+This borrow'd passion stands for true old woe ;
+And Pericles , in sorrow all devour'd ,
+With sighs shot through , and biggest tears o'ershower'd ,
+Leaves Tarsus and again embarks . He swears
+Never to wash his face , nor cut his hairs ;
+He puts on sackcloth , and to sea . He bears
+A tempest , which his mortal vessel tears ,
+And yet he rides it out . Now please you wit
+The epitaph is for Marina writ
+By wicked Dionyza .
+
+
+the fairest , sweet'st , and best lies here ,
+who wither'd in her spring of year :
+she was of tyrus the king's daughter ,
+on whom foul death hath made this slaughter .
+marina was she call'd ; and at her birth ,
+thetis , being proud , swallow'd some part o' the earth :
+therefore the earth , fearing to be o'erflow'd ,
+hath thetis' birth-child on the heavens bestow'd :
+wherefore she does , and swears she'll never stint ,
+make raging battery upon shores of flint .
+
+No visor does become black villany
+So well as soft and tender flattery .
+Let Pericles believe his daughter's dead ,
+And bear his courses to be ordered
+By Lady Fortune ; while our scene must play
+His daughter's woe and heavy well-a-day
+In her unholy service . Patience then ,
+And think you now are all in Mitylen .
+
+
+Did you ever hear the like ?
+
+No , nor never shall do in such a place as this , she being once gone .
+
+But to have divinity preached there ! did you ever dream of such a thing ?
+
+No , no . Come , I am for no more bawdy-houses . Shall's go hear the vestals sing ?
+
+I'll do any thing now that is virtuous ; but I am out of the road of rutting for ever .
+
+
+Well , I had rather than twice the worth of her she had ne'er come here .
+
+Fie , fie upon her ! she is able to freeze the god Priapus , and undo a whole generation ; we must either get her ravished , or be rid of her . When she should do for clients her fitment , and do me the kindness of our profession , she has me her quirks , her reasons , her master-reasons , her prayers , her knees ; that she would make a puritan of the devil if he should cheapen a kiss of her .
+
+Faith , I must ravish her , or she'll disfurnish us of all our cavaliers , and make all our swearers priests .
+
+Now , the pox upon her green-sickness for me !
+
+Faith , there's no way to be rid on 't but by the way to the pox . Here comes the Lord Lysimachus , disguised .
+
+We should have both lord and lown if the peevish baggage would but give way to customers .
+
+
+How now ! How a dozen of virginities ?
+
+Now , the gods to-bless your honour !
+
+I am glad to see your honour in good health .
+
+You may so ; 'tis the better for you that your resorters stand upon sound legs . How now ! wholesome iniquity , have you that a man may deal withal , and defy the surgeon ?
+
+We have here one , sir , if she would but there never came her like in Mitylene .
+
+If she'd do the deed of darkness , thou wouldst say .
+
+Your honour knows what 'tis to say well enough .
+
+Well ; call forth , call forth .
+
+For flesh and blood , sir , white and red , you shall see a rose ; and she were a rose indeed if she had but
+
+What , prithee ?
+
+O ! sir , I can be modest .
+
+That dignifies the renown of a bawd no less than it gives a good report to a number to be chaste .
+
+
+Here comes that which grows to the stalk ; never plucked yet , I can assure you .
+
+Is she not a fair creature ?
+
+Faith , she would serve after a long voyage at sea . Well , there's for you ; leave us .
+
+I beseech your honour , give me leave ; a word , and I'll have done presently .
+
+I beseech you do .
+
+First , I would have you note , this is an honourable man .
+
+I desire to find him so , that I may worthily note him .
+
+Next , he's the governor of this country , and a man whom I am bound to .
+
+If he govern the country , you are bound to him indeed ; but how honourable he is in that I know not .
+
+Pray you , without any more virginal fencing , will you use him kindly ? He will line your apron with gold .
+
+What he will do graciously , I will thankfully receive .
+
+Ha' you done ?
+
+My lord , she's not paced yet ; you must take some pains to work her to your manage . Come , we will leave his honour and her together .
+
+Go thy ways .
+
+Now , pretty one , how long have you been at this trade ?
+
+What trade , sir ?
+
+Why , I cannot name 't but I shall offend .
+
+I cannot be offended with my trade . Please you to name it .
+
+How long have you been of this profession ?
+
+E'er since I can remember .
+
+Did you go to 't so young ? Were you a gamester at five or at seven ?
+
+Earlier too , sir , if now I be one .
+
+Why , the house you dwell in proclaims you to be a creature of sale .
+
+Do you know this house to be a place of such resort , and will come into 't ? I hear say you are of honourable parts , and are the governor of this place .
+
+Why , hath your principal made known unto you who I am ?
+
+Who is my principal ?
+
+Why , your herb-woman ; she that sets seeds and roots of shame and iniquity . O ! you have heard something of my power , and so stand aloof for more serious wooing . But I protest to thee , pretty one , my authority shall not see thee , or else look friendly upon thee . Come , bring me to some private place ; come , come .
+
+If you were born to honour , show it now ;
+If put upon you , make the judgment good
+That thought you worthy of it .
+
+How's this ? how's this ? Some more ; be sage .
+
+For me ,
+That am a maid , though most ungentle fortune
+Hath plac'd me in this sty , where , since I came ,
+Diseases have been sold dearer than physic ,
+O ! that the gods
+Would set me free from this unhallow'd place ,
+Though they did change me to the meanest bird
+That flies i' the purer air !
+
+I did not think
+Thou couldst have spoke so well ; ne'er dream'd thou couldst .
+Had I brought hither a corrupted mind ,
+Thy speech had alter'd it . Hold , here's gold for thee ;
+Persever in that clear way thou goest ,
+And the gods strengthen thee !
+
+The good gods preserve you !
+
+For me , be you thoughten
+That I came with no ill intent , for to me
+The very doors and windows savour vilely .
+Farewell . Thou art a piece of virtue , and
+I doubt not but thy training hath been noble .
+Hold , here's more gold for thee .
+A curse upon him , die he like a thief ,
+That robs thee of thy goodness ! If thou dost
+Hear from me , it shall be for thy good .
+
+
+I beseech your honour , one piece for me .
+
+Avaunt ! thou damned door-keeper . Your house ,
+But for this virgin that doth prop it , would
+Sink and overwhelm you . Away !
+
+
+How's this ? We must take another course with you . If your peevish chastity , which is not worth a breakfast in the cheapest country under the cope , shall undo a whole household , let me be gelded like a spaniel . Come your ways .
+
+Whither would you have me ?
+
+I must have your maidenhead taken off , or the common hangman shall execute it . Come your ways . We'll have no more gentlemen driven away . Come your ways , I say .
+
+
+How now ! what's the matter ?
+
+Worse and worse , mistress ; she has here spoken holy words to the Lord Lysimachus .
+
+O ! abominable .
+
+She makes our profession as it were to stink afore the face of the gods .
+
+Marry , hang her up for ever !
+
+The nobleman would have dealt with her like a nobleman , and she sent him away as cold as a snowball ; saying his prayers too .
+
+Boult , take her away ; use her at thy pleasure ; crack the glass of her virginity , and make the rest malleable .
+
+An if she were a thornier piece of ground than she is , she shall be ploughed .
+
+Hark , hark , you gods !
+
+She conjures ; away with her ! Would she had never come within my doors ! Marry , hang you ! She's born to undo us . Will you not go the way of women-kind ? Marry , come up , my dish of chastity with rosemary and bays !
+
+
+Come , mistress ; come your ways with me .
+
+Whither wilt thou have me ?
+
+To take from you the jewel you hold so dear .
+
+Prithee , tell me one thing first .
+
+Come now , your one thing .
+
+What canst thou wish thine enemy to be ?
+
+Why , I could wish him to be my master , or rather , my mistress .
+
+Neither of these are so bad as thou art ,
+Since they do better thee in their command .
+Thou hold'st a place , for which the pained'st fiend
+Of hell would not in reputation change ;
+Thou art the damned door-keeper to every
+Coystril that comes inquiring for his Tib ,
+To the choleric fisting of every rogue
+Thy ear is liable , thy food is such
+As hath been belch'd on by infected lungs .
+
+What would you have me do ? go to the wars , would you ? where a man may serve seven years for the loss of a leg , and have not money enough in the end to buy him a wooden one ?
+
+Do any thing but this thou doest . Empty .
+Old receptacles , or common sewers , of filth ;
+Serve by indenture to the common hangman :
+Any of these ways are yet better than this ;
+For what thou professest , a baboon , could he speak ,
+Would own a name too dear . O ! that the gods
+Would safely deliver me from this place .
+Here , here's gold for thee .
+If that thy master would gain by me ,
+Proclaim that I can sing , weave , sew , and dance ,
+With other virtues , which I'll keep from boast ;
+And I will undertake all these to teach .
+I doubt not but this populous city will
+Yield many scholars .
+
+But can you teach all this you speak of ?
+
+Prove that I cannot , take me home again ,
+And prostitute me to the basest groom
+That doth frequent your house .
+
+Well , I will see what I can do for thee ; if I can place thee , I will .
+
+But , amongst honest women .
+
+Faith , my acquaintance lies little amongst them . But since my master and mistress have bought you , there's no going but by their consent ; therefore I will make them acquainted with your purpose , and I doubt not but I shall find them tractable enough . Come ; I'll do for thee what I can ; come your ways .
+
+
+Marina thus the brothel 'scapes , and chances
+Into an honest house , our story says .
+She sings like one immortal , and she dances
+As goddess-like to her admired lays ;
+Deep clerks she dumbs ; and with her neeld composes
+Nature's own shape , of bud , bird , branch , or berry ,
+That even her art sisters the natural roses ;
+Her inkle , silk , twin with the rubied cherry ;
+That pupils lacks she none of noble race ,
+Who pour their bounty on her ; and her gain
+She gives the cursed bawd . Here we her place ;
+And to her father turn our thoughts again ,
+Where we left him , on the sea . We there him lost ,
+Whence , driven before the winds , he is arriv'd
+Here where his daughter dwells : and on this coast
+Suppose him now at anchor . The city striv'd
+God Neptune's annual feast to keep ; from whence
+Lysimachus our Tyrian ship espies ,
+His banners sable , trimm'd with rich expense ;
+And to him in his barge with fervour hies .
+In your supposing once more put your sight
+Of heavy Pericles ; think this his bark :
+Where what is done in action , more , if might ,
+Shall be discover'd ; please you , sit and hark .
+
+Where's the Lord Helicanus ? he can resolve you .
+O ! here he is .
+Sir , there's a barge put off from Mitylene ,
+And in it is Lysimachus , the governor ,
+Who craves to come aboard . What is your will ?
+
+That he have his . Call up some gentlemen .
+
+Ho , gentlemen ! my lord calls .
+
+
+Doth your lordship call ?
+
+Gentlemen , there's some of worth would come aboard ;
+I pray ye , greet them fairly .
+
+Sir ,
+This is the man that can , in aught you would ,
+Resolve you .
+
+Hail , reverend sir ! The gods preserve you !
+
+And you , sir , to outlive the age I am ,
+And die as I would do .
+
+You wish me well .
+Being on shore , honouring of Neptune's triumphs ,
+Seeing this goodly vessel ride before us ,
+I made to it to know of whence you are .
+
+First , what is your place ?
+
+I am the governor of this place you lie before .
+
+Sir ,
+Our vessel is of Tyre , in it the king ;
+A man who for this three months hath not spoken
+To any one , nor taken sustenance
+But to prorogue his grief .
+
+Upon what ground is his distemperature ?
+
+'Twould be too tedious to repeat ;
+But the main grief springs from the loss
+Of a beloved daughter and a wife .
+
+May we not see him ?
+
+You may ;
+But bootless is your sight : he will not speak
+To any .
+
+Yet let me obtain my wish .
+
+Behold him .
+
+This was a goodly person ,
+Till the disaster that , one mortal night ,
+Drove him to this .
+
+Sir king , all hail ! the gods preserve you !
+Hall , royal sir !
+
+It is in vain ; he will not speak to you .
+
+Sir ,
+We have a maid in Mitylene , I durst wager ,
+Would win some words of him .
+
+'Tis well bethought .
+She questionless with her sweet harmony
+And other chosen attractions , would allure ,
+And make a battery through his deafen'd ports
+Which now are midway stopp'd :
+She is all happy as the fair'st of all ,
+And with her fellow maids is now upon
+The leafy shelter that abuts against
+The island's side .
+
+
+Sure , all's effectless ; yet nothing we'll omit ,
+That bears recovery's name . But , since your kindness
+We have stretch'd thus far , let us beseech you ,
+That for our gold we may provision have ,
+Wherein we are not destitute for want ,
+But weary for the staleness .
+
+O ! sir , a courtesy ,
+Which if we should deny , the most just gods
+For every graff would send a caterpillar ,
+And so afflict our province . Yet once more
+Let me entreat to know at large the cause
+Of your king's sorrow .
+
+Sit , sir , I will recount it to you ;
+But see , I am prevented .
+
+
+O ! here is
+The lady that I sent for . Welcome , fair one !
+Is't not a goodly presence ?
+
+She's a gallant lady .
+
+She's such a one , that were I well assur'd
+Came of a gentle kind and noble stock ,
+I'd wish no better choice , and think me rarely wed .
+Fair one , all goodness that consists in bounty
+Expect even here , where is a kingly patient :
+If that thy prosperous and artificial feat
+Can draw him but to answer thee in aught ,
+Thy sacred physic shall receive such pay
+As thy desires can wish .
+
+Sir , I will use
+My utmost skill in his recovery ,
+Provided
+That none but I and my companion maid
+Be suffer'd to come near him .
+
+Come , let us leave her ;
+And the gods make her prosperous !
+
+
+Mark'd he your music ?
+
+No , nor look'd on us .
+
+See , she will speak to him .
+
+Hail , sir ! my lord , lend ear .
+
+Hum ! ha !
+
+I am a maid ,
+My lord , that ne'er before invited eyes ,
+But have been gaz'd on like a comet ; she speaks ,
+My lord , that , may be , hath endur'd a grief
+Might equal yours , if both were justly weigh'd .
+Though wayward Fortune did malign my state ,
+My derivation was from ancestors
+Who stood equivalent with mighty kings ;
+But time hath rooted out my parentage ,
+And to the world and awkward casualties
+Bound me in servitude .
+
+I will desist ;
+But there is something glows upon my cheek ,
+And whispers in mine ear , 'Go not till he speak .'
+
+My fortunes parentage good parentage
+To equal mine !was it not thus ? what say you ?
+
+I said , my lord , if you did know my parentage ,
+You would not do me violence .
+
+I do think so . Pray you , turn your eyes upon me .
+You are like something that What country-woman ?
+Here of these shores ?
+
+No , nor of any shores ;
+Yet I was mortally brought forth , and am
+No other than I appear .
+
+I am great with woe , and shall deliver weeping .
+My dearest wife was like this maid , and such a one
+My daughter might have been : my queen's square brows ;
+Her stature to an inch ; as wand-like straight ;
+As silver-voic'd ; her eyes as jewel-like ,
+And cas'd as richly ; in pace another Juno ;
+Who starves the ears she feeds , and makes them hungry ,
+The more she gives them speech . Where do you live ?
+
+Where I am but a stranger ; from the deck
+You may discern the place .
+
+Where were you bred ?
+And how achiev'd you these endowments , which
+You make more rich to owe ?
+
+Should I tell my history , it would seem
+Like lies , disdain'd in the reporting .
+
+Prithee , speak ;
+Falseness cannot come from thee , for thou look'st
+Modest as justice , and thou seem'st a palace
+For the crown'd truth to dwell in . I believe thee ,
+And make my senses credit thy relation
+To points that seem impossible ; for thou lookest
+Like one I lov'd indeed . What were thy friends ?
+Didst thou not say when I did push thee back ,
+Which was when I perceiv'd thee ,that thou cam'st
+From good descending ?
+
+So indeed I did .
+
+Report thy parentage . I think thou saidst
+Thou hadst been toss'd from wrong to injury ,
+And that thou thought'st thy griefs might equal mine ,
+If both were open'd .
+
+Some such thing
+I said , and said no more but what my thoughts
+Did warrant me was likely .
+
+Tell thy story ;
+If thine consider'd prove the thousandth part
+Of my endurance , thou art a man , and I
+Have suffer'd like a girl ; yet thou dost look
+Like Patience gazing on kings' graves , and smiling
+Extremity out of act . What were thy friends ?
+How lost thou them ? Thy name , my most kind virgin ?
+Recount , I do beseech thee . Come , sit by me .
+
+My name is Marina .
+
+O ! I am mock'd ,
+And thou by some incensed god sent hither
+To make the world to laugh at me .
+
+Patience , good sir ,
+Or here I'll cease .
+
+Nay , I'll be patient .
+Thou little know'st how thou dost startle me ,
+To call thyself Marina .
+
+The name
+Was given me by one that had some power ;
+My father , and a king .
+
+How ! a king's daughter ?
+And call'd Marina ?
+
+You said you would believe me ;
+But , not to be a troubler of your peace ,
+I will end here .
+
+But are you flesh and blood ?
+Have you a working pulse ? and are no fairy ?
+Motion !Well ; speak on . Where were you born ?
+And wherefore call'd Marina ?
+
+Call'd Marina
+For I was born at sea .
+
+At sea ! what mother ?
+
+My mother was the daughter of a king ;
+Who died the minute I was born ,
+As my good nurse Lychorida hath oft
+Deliver'd weeping .
+
+O ! stop there a little .
+This is the rarest dream that e'er dull sleep
+Did mock sad fools withal ; this cannot be .
+My daughter's buried . Well ; where were you bred ?
+I'll hear you more , to the bottom of your story ,
+And never interrupt you .
+
+You'll scorn to believe me ; 'twere best I did give o'er .
+
+I will believe you by the syllable
+Of what you shall deliver . Yet , give me leave :
+How came you in these parts ? where were you bred ?
+
+The king my father did in Tarsus leave me ,
+Till cruel Cleon , with his wicked wife ,
+Did seek to murder me ; and having woo'd
+A villain to attempt it , who having drawn to do 't ,
+A crew of pirates came and rescu'd me ;
+Brought me to Mitylene . But , good sir ,
+Whither will you have me ? Why do you weep ? It may be
+You think me an impostor ; no , good faith ;
+I am the daughter to King Pericles ,
+If good King Pericles be .
+
+Ho , Helicanus !
+
+Calls my lord ?
+
+Thou art a grave and noble counsellor ,
+Most wise in general ; tell me , if thou canst ,
+What this maid is , or what is like to be ,
+That thus hath made me weep ?
+
+I know not ; but
+Here is the regent , sir , of Mitylene ,
+Speaks nobly of her .
+
+She never would tell
+Her parentage ; being demanded that ,
+She would sit still and weep .
+
+O Helicanus ! strike me , honour'd sir ;
+Give me a gash , put me to present pain ,
+Lest this great sea of joys rushing upon me
+O'erbear the shores of my mortality ,
+And drown me with their sweetness . O ! come hither ,
+Thou that begett'st him that did thee beget ;
+Thou that wast born at sea , buried at Tarsus ,
+And found at sea again . O Helicanus !
+Down on thy knees , thank the holy gods as loud
+As thunder threatens us ; this is Marina .
+What was thy mother's name ? tell me but that ,
+For truth can never be confirm'd enough ,
+Though doubts did ever sleep .
+
+First , sir , I pray ,
+What is your title ?
+
+I am Pericles of Tyre : but tell me now
+My drown'd queen's name , as in the rest you said
+Thou hast been god-like perfect ;
+Thou'rt heir of kingdoms , and another life
+To Pericles thy father .
+
+Is it no more to be your daughter than
+To say my mother's name was Thaisa ?
+Thaisa was my mother , who did end
+The minute I began .
+
+Now , blessing on thee ! rise ; thou art my child ,
+Give me fresh garments . Mine own , Helicanus ;
+She is not dead at Tarsus , as she should have been ,
+By savage Cleon ; she shall tell thee all ;
+When thou shalt kneel , and justify in knowledge
+She is thy very princess . Who is this ?
+
+Sir , 'tis the governor of Mitylene ,
+Who , hearing of your melancholy state ,
+Did come to see you .
+
+I embrace you .
+Give me my robes . I am wild in my beholding .
+O heavens ! bless my girl . But , hark ! what music ?
+Tell Helicanus , my Marina , tell him
+O'er , point by point , for yet he seems to doubt ,
+How sure you are my daughter . But , what music ?
+
+My lord , I hear none .
+
+None !
+The music of the spheres ! List , my Marina .
+
+It is not good to cross him ; give him way .
+
+Rarest sounds ! Do ye not hear ?
+
+My lord , I hear .
+
+
+Most heavenly music :
+It nips me unto list'ning , and thick slumber
+Hangs upon mine eyes ; let me rest .
+
+
+A pillow for his head .
+So , leave him all . Well , my companion friends ,
+If this but answer to my just belief ,
+I'll well remember you .
+
+My temple stands in Ephesus ; hie thee thither ,
+And do upon mine altar sacrifice .
+There , when my maiden priests are met together ,
+Before the people all ,
+Reveal how thou at sea didst lose thy wife ;
+To mourn thy crosses , with thy daughter's , call
+And give them repetition to the life .
+Perform my bidding , or thou liv'st in woe ;
+Do it , and happy ; by my silver bow !
+Awake , and tell thy dream !
+
+
+Celestial Dian , goddess argentine ,
+I will obey thee ! Helicanus !
+
+
+Sir ?
+
+My purpose was for Tarsus , there to strike
+The inhospitable Cleon : but I am
+For other service first : toward Ephesus
+Turn our blown sails ; eftsoons I'll tell thee why .
+
+
+Shall we refresh us , sir , upon your shore ,
+And give you gold for such provision
+As our intents will need ?
+
+Sir ,
+With all my heart ; and when you come ashore ,
+I have another suit .
+
+You shall prevail ,
+Were it to woo my daughter ; for it seems
+You have been noble towards her .
+
+Sir , lend me your arm .
+
+Come , my Marina .
+
+
+Now our sands are almost run ;
+More a little , and then dumb .
+This , my last boon , give me ,
+For such kindness must relieve me ,
+That you aptly will suppose
+What pageantry , what feats , what shows ,
+What minstrelsy , and pretty din ,
+The regent made in Mitylen
+To greet the king . So he thriv'd ,
+That he is promis'd to be wiv'd
+To fair Marina ; but in no wise
+Till he had done his sacrifice ,
+As Dian bade : whereto being bound ,
+The interim , pray you , all confound .
+In feather'd briefness sails are fill'd ,
+And wishes fall out as they're will'd .
+At Ephesus , the temple see ,
+Our king and all his company .
+That he can hither come so soon ,
+Is by your fancy's thankful doom .
+
+Hail , Dian ! to perform thy just command ,
+I here confess myself the King of Tyre ;
+Who , frighted from my country , did wed
+At Pentapolis the fair Thaisa .
+At sea in childbed died she , but brought forth
+A maid-child call'd Marina ; who , O goddess !
+Wears yet thy silver livery . She at Tarsus
+Was nurs'd with Cleon , whom at fourteen years
+He sought to murder ; but her better stars
+Brought her to Mitylene , 'gainst whose shore
+Riding , her fortunes brought the maid aboard us ,
+Where , by her own most clear remembrance , she
+Made known herself my daughter .
+
+Voice and favour !
+You are , you are O royal Pericles !
+
+
+What means the nun ? she dies ! help , gentlemen !
+
+Noble sir ,
+If you have told Diana's altar true ,
+This is your wife .
+
+Reverend appearer , no ;
+I threw her o'erboard with these very arms .
+
+Upon this coast , I warrant you .
+
+'Tis most certain .
+
+Look to the lady . O ! she's but o'erjoy'd .
+Early in blustering morn this lady was
+Thrown upon this shore . I op'd the coffin ,
+Found there rich jewels ; recover'd her , and plac'd her
+Here in Diana's temple .
+
+May we see them ?
+
+Great sir , they shall be brought you to my house ,
+Whither I invite you . Look ! Thaisa is
+Recovered .
+
+O ! let me look !
+If he be none of mine , my sanctity
+Will to my sense bend no licentious ear ,
+But curb it , spite of seeing . O ! my lord ,
+Are you not Pericles ? Like him you speak ,
+Like him you are . Did you not name a tempest ,
+A birth , and death ?
+
+The voice of dead Thaisa !
+
+That Thaisa am I , supposed dead
+And drown'd .
+
+Immortal Dian !
+
+Now I know you better .
+When we with tears parted Pentapolis ,
+The king my father gave you such a ring .
+
+
+This , this : no more , you gods ! your present kindness
+Makes my past miseries sport : you shall do well ,
+That on the touching of her lips I may
+Melt and no more be seen . O ! come , be buried
+A second time within these arms .
+
+My heart
+Leaps to be gone into my mother's bosom .
+
+
+Look , who kneels here ! Flesh of thy flesh , Thaisa ;
+Thy burden at the sea , and call'd Marina ,
+For she was yielded there .
+
+Bless'd , and mine own !
+
+Hail , madam , and my queen !
+
+I know you not .
+
+You have heard me say , when I did fly from Tyre ,
+I left behind an ancient substitute ;
+Can you remember what I call'd the man ?
+I have nam'd him oft .
+
+'Twas Helicanus then .
+
+Still confirmation !
+Embrace him , dear Thaisa ; this is he .
+Now do I long to hear how you were found ,
+How possibly preserv'd , and whom to thank ,
+Besides the gods , for this great miracle .
+
+Lord Cerimon , my lord ; this man ,
+Through whom the gods have shown their power ; that can
+From first to last resolve you .
+
+Reverend sir ,
+The gods can have no mortal officer
+More like a god than you . Will you deliver
+How this dead queen re-lives ?
+
+I will , my lord .
+Beseech you , first go with me to my house .
+Where shall be shown you all was found with her ;
+How she came placed here in the temple ;
+No needful thing omitted .
+
+Pure Dian ! bless thee for thy vision ; I
+Will offer night-oblations to thee . Thaisa ,
+This prince , the fair-betrothed of your daughter ,
+Shall marry her at Pentapolis . And now
+This ornament
+Makes me look dismal will I clip to form ;
+And what this fourteen years no rasor touch'd ,
+To grace thy marriage-day I'll beautify .
+
+Lord Cerimon hath letters of good credit , sir ,
+My father's dead .
+
+Heavens make a star of him ! Yet there , my queen ,
+We'll celebrate their nuptials , and ourselves
+Will in that kingdom spend our following days ;
+Our son and daughter shall in Tyrus reign .
+Lord Cerimon , we do our longing stay
+To hear the rest untold . Sir , lead's the way .
+
+In Antiochus and his daughter you have heard
+Of monstrous lust the due and just reward :
+In Pericles , his queen , and daughter , seen
+Although assail'd with fortune fierce and keen
+Virtue preserv'd from fell destruction's blast ,
+Led on by heaven , and crown'd with joy at last .
+In Helicanus may you well descry
+A figure of truth , of faith , of loyalty .
+In reverend Cerimon there well appears
+The worth that learned charity aye wears .
+For wicked Cleon and his wife , when fame
+Had spread their cursed deed , and honour'd name
+Of Pericles , to rage the city turn ,
+That him and his they in his palace burn :
+The gods for murder seemed so content
+To punish them ; although not done , but meant .
+So on your patience evermore attending ,
+New joy wait on you ! Here our play hath ending .
+
+THE COMEDY OF ERRORS
+
+Proceed , Solinus , to procure my fall ,
+And by the doom of death end woes and all .
+
+Merchant of Syracusa , plead no more .
+I am not partial to infringe our laws :
+The enmity and discord which of late
+Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your duke
+To merchants , our well-dealing countrymen ,
+Who , wanting guilders to redeem their lives ,
+Have seal'd his rigorous statutes with their bloods ,
+Excludes all pity from our threat'ning looks .
+For , since the mortal and intestine jars
+'Twixt thy seditious countrymen and us ,
+It hath in solemn synods been decreed ,
+Both by the Syracusians and ourselves ,
+T' admit no traffic to our adverse towns :
+Nay , more , if any , born at Ephesus
+Be seen at Syracusian marts and fairs ;
+Again , if any Syracusian born
+Come to the bay of Ephesus , he dies ,
+His goods confiscate to the duke's dispose ;
+Unless a thousand marks be levied ,
+To quit the penalty and to ransom him .
+Thy substance , valu'd at the highest rate ,
+Cannot amount unto a hundred marks ;
+Therefore , by law thou art condemn'd to die .
+
+Yet this my comfort : when your words are done ,
+My woes end likewise with the evening sun .
+
+Well , Syracusian ; say , in brief the cause
+Why thou departedst from thy native home ,
+And for what cause thou cam'st to Ephesus .
+
+A heavier task could not have been impos'd
+Than I to speak my griefs unspeakable ;
+Yet , that the world may witness that my end
+Was wrought by nature , not by vile offence ,
+I'll utter what my sorrow gives me leave .
+In Syracusa was I born , and wed
+Unto a woman , happy but for me ,
+And by me too , had not our hap been bad .
+With her I liv'd in joy : our wealth increas'd
+By prosperous voyages I often made
+To Epidamnum ; till my factor's death ,
+And the great care of goods at random left ,
+Drew me from kind embracements of my spouse :
+From whom my absence was not six months old ,
+Before herself ,almost at fainting under
+The pleasing punishment that women bear ,
+Had made provision for her following me ,
+And soon and safe arrived where I was .
+There had she not been long but she became
+A joyful mother of two goodly sons ;
+And , which was strange , the one so like the other ,
+As could not be distinguish'd but by names .
+That very hour , and in the self-same inn ,
+A meaner woman was delivered
+Of such a burden , male twins , both alike .
+Those ,for their parents were exceeding poor ,
+I bought , and brought up to attend my sons .
+My wife , not meanly proud of two such boys ,
+Made daily motions for our home return :
+Unwilling I agreed ; alas ! too soon
+We came aboard .
+A league from Epidamnum had we sail'd ,
+Before the always-wind-obeying deep
+Gave any tragic instance of our harm :
+But longer did we not retain much hope ;
+For what obscured light the heavens did grant
+Did but convey unto our fearful minds
+A doubtful warrant of immediate death ;
+Which , though myself would gladly have embrac'd ,
+Yet the incessant weepings of my wife ,
+Weeping before for what she saw must come ,
+And piteous plainings of the pretty babes ,
+That mourn'd for fashion , ignorant what to fear ,
+Forc'd me to seek delays for them and me .
+And this it was , for other means was none :
+The sailors sought for safety by our boat ,
+And left the ship , then sinking-ripe , to us :
+My wife , more careful for the latter-born ,
+Had fasten'd him unto a small spare mast ,
+Such as seafaring men provide for storms ;
+To him one of the other twins was bound ,
+Whilst I had been like heedful of the other .
+The children thus dispos'd , my wife and I ,
+Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fix'd ,
+Fasten'd ourselves at either end the mast ;
+And floating straight , obedient to the stream ,
+Were carried towards Corinth , as we thought .
+At length the sun , gazing upon the earth ,
+Dispers'd those vapours that offended us ,
+And , by the benefit of his wished light
+The seas wax'd calm , and we discovered
+Two ships from far making amain to us ;
+Of Corinth that , of Epidaurus this :
+But ere they came ,O ! let me say no more ;
+Gather the sequel by that went before .
+
+Nay , forward , old man ; do not break off so ;
+For we may pity , though not pardon thee .
+
+O ! had the gods done so , I had not now
+Worthily term'd them merciless to us !
+For , ere the ships could meet by twice five leagues ,
+We were encounter'd by a mighty rock ;
+Which being violently borne upon ,
+Our helpful ship was splitted in the midst ;
+So that , in this unjust divorce of us
+Fortune had left to both of us alike
+What to delight in , what to sorrow for .
+Her part , poor soul ! seeming as burdened
+With lesser weight , but not with lesser woe ,
+Was carried with more speed before the wind ,
+And in our sight they three were taken up
+By fishermen of Corinth , as we thought .
+At length , another ship had seiz'd on us ;
+And , knowing whom it was their hap to save ,
+Gave healthful welcome to their ship-wrack'd guests ;
+And would have reft the fishers of their prey ,
+Had not their bark been very slow of sail ;
+And therefore homeward did they bend their course .
+Thus have you heard me sever'd from my bliss ,
+That by misfortune was my life prolong'd ,
+To tell sad stories of my own mishaps .
+
+And , for the sake of them thou sorrowest for ,
+Do me the favour to dilate at full
+What hath befall'n of them and thee till now .
+
+My youngest boy , and yet my eldest care ,
+At eighteen years became inquisitive
+After his brother ; and importun'd me
+That his attendant for his case was like ,
+Reft of his brother , but retain'd his name
+Might bear him company in the quest of him ;
+Whom whilst I labour'd of a love to see ,
+I hazarded the loss of whom I lov'd .
+Five summers have I spent in furthest Greece ,
+Roaming clean through the bounds of Asia ,
+And , coasting homeward , came to Ephesus ,
+Hopeless to find , yet loath to leave unsought
+Or that or any place that harbours men .
+But here must end the story of my life ;
+And happy were I in my timely death ,
+Could all my travels warrant me they live .
+
+Hapless geon , whom the fates have mark'd
+To bear the extremity of dire mishap !
+Now , trust me , were it not against our laws ,
+Against my crown , my oath , my dignity ,
+Which princes , would they , may not disannul ,
+My soul should sue as advocate for thee .
+But though thou art adjudged to the death
+And passed sentence may not be recall'd
+But to our honour's great disparagement ,
+Yet will I favour thee in what I can :
+Therefore , merchant , I'll limit thee this day
+To seek thy life by beneficial help .
+Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus ;
+Beg thou , or borrow , to make up the sum ,
+And live ; if no , then thou art doom'd to die .
+Gaoler , take him to thy custody .
+
+I will , my lord .
+
+Hopeless and helpless doth geon wend ,
+But to procrastinate his lifeless end .
+
+
+Therefore , give out you are of Epidamnum ,
+Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate .
+This very day , a Syracusian merchant
+Is apprehended for arrival here ;
+And , not being able to buy out his life ,
+According to the statute of the town
+Dies ere the weary sun set in the west .
+There is your money that I had to keep .
+
+Go bear it to the Centaur , where we host ,
+And stay there , Dromio , till I come to thee .
+Within this hour it will be dinner-time :
+Till that , I'll view the manners of the town ,
+Peruse the traders , gaze upon the buildings ,
+And then return and sleep within mine inn ,
+For with long travel I am stiff and weary .
+Get thee away .
+
+Many a man would take you at your word ,
+And go indeed , having so good a mean .
+
+
+A trusty villain , sir , that very oft ,
+When I am dull with care and melancholy ,
+Lightens my humour with his merry jests .
+What , will you walk with me about the town ,
+And then go to my inn and dine with me ?
+
+I am invited , sir , to certain merchants ,
+Of whom I hope to make much benefit ;
+I crave your pardon . Soon at five o'clock ,
+Please you , I'll meet with you upon the mart ,
+And afterward consort you till bed-time :
+My present business calls me from you now .
+
+Farewell till then : I will go lose myself ,
+And wander up and down to view the city .
+
+Sir , I commend you to your own content .
+
+
+He that commends me to mine own content ,
+Commends me to the thing I cannot get .
+I to the world am like a drop of water
+That in the ocean seeks another drop ;
+Who , falling there to find his fellow forth ,
+Unseen , inquisitive , confounds himself :
+So I , to find a mother and a brother ,
+In quest of them , unhappy , lose myself .
+
+
+Here comes the almanack of my true date .
+
+What now ? How chance thou art return'd so soon ?
+
+Return'd so soon ! rather approach'd too late :
+The capon burns , the pig falls from the spit ,
+The clock hath strucken twelve upon the bell ;
+My mistress made it one upon my cheek :
+She is so hot because the meat is cold ;
+The meat is cold because you come not home ;
+You come not home because you have no stomach ;
+You have no stomach , having broke your fast ;
+But we , that know what 'tis to fast and pray ,
+Are penitent for your default to-day .
+
+Stop in your wind , sir : tell me this , I pray :
+Where have you left the money that I gave you ?
+
+O !sixpence , that I had o' Wednesday last
+To pay the saddler for my mistress' crupper ;
+The saddler had it , sir ; I kept it not .
+
+I am not in a sportive humour now .
+Tell me , and dally not , where is the money ?
+We being strangers here , how dar'st thou trust
+So great a charge from thine own custody ?
+
+I pray you , jest , sir , as you sit at dinner .
+I from my mistress come to you in post ;
+If I return , I shall be post indeed ,
+For she will score your fault upon my pate .
+Methinks your maw , like mine , should be your clock
+And strike you home without a messenger .
+
+Come , Dromio , come ; these jests are out of season ;
+Reserve them till a merrier hour than this .
+Where is the gold I gave in charge to thee ?
+
+To me , sir ? why , you gave no gold to me .
+
+Come on , sir knave , have done your foolishness ,
+And tell me how thou hast dispos'd thy charge .
+
+My charge was but to fetch you from the mart
+Home to your house , the Ph nix , sir , to dinner :
+My mistress and her sister stays for you .
+
+Now , as I am a Christian , answer me ,
+In what safe place you have bestow'd my money ;
+Or I shall break that merry sconce of yours
+That stands on tricks when I am undispos'd .
+Where is the thousand marks thou hadst of me ?
+
+I have some marks of yours upon my pate ,
+Some of my mistress' marks upon my shoulders ,
+But not a thousand marks between you both .
+If I should pay your worship those again ,
+Perchance you will not bear them patiently .
+
+Thy mistress' marks ! what mistress , slave , hast thou ?
+
+Your worship's wife , my mistress at the Ph nix ;
+She that doth fast till you come home to dinner ,
+And prays that you will hie you home to dinner .
+
+What ! wilt thou flout me thus unto my face ,
+Being forbid ? There , take you that , sir knave .
+
+
+What mean you , sir ? for God's sake , hold your hands !
+Nay , an you will not , sir , I'll take my heels .
+
+
+Upon my life , by some device or other
+The villain is o'er-raught of all my money .
+They say this town is full of cozenage ;
+As , nimble jugglers that deceive the eye ,
+Dark-working sorcerers that change the mind ,
+Soul-killing witches that deform the body ,
+Disguised cheaters , prating mountebanks ,
+And many such-like liberties of sin :
+If it prove so , I will be gone the sooner .
+I'll to the Centaur , to go seek this slave :
+I greatly fear my money is not safe .
+
+Neither my husband , nor the slave return'd ,
+That in such haste I sent to seek his master !
+Sure , Luciana , it is two o'clock .
+
+Perhaps some merchant hath invited him ,
+And from the mart he's somewhere gone to dinner .
+Good sister , let us dine and never fret :
+A man is master of his liberty :
+Time is their master , and , when they see time ,
+They'll go or come : if so , be patient , sister .
+
+Why should their liberty than ours be more ?
+
+Because their business still lies out o' door .
+
+Look , when I serve him so , he takes it ill .
+
+O ! know he is the bridle of your will .
+
+There's none but asses will be bridled so .
+
+Why , headstrong liberty is lash'd with woe .
+There's nothing situate under heaven's eye
+But hath his bound , in earth , in sea , in sky :
+The beasts , the fishes , and the winged fowls ,
+Are their males' subjects and at their controls .
+Men , more divine , the masters of all these ,
+Lords of the wide world , and wild wat'ry seas ,
+Indu'd with intellectual sense and souls ,
+Of more pre-eminence than fish and fowls ,
+Are masters to their females and their lords :
+Then , let your will attend on their accords .
+
+This servitude makes you to keep unwed .
+
+Not this , but troubles of the marriage-bed .
+
+But , were you wedded , you would bear some sway .
+
+Ere I learn love , I'll practise to obey .
+
+How if your husband start some other where ?
+
+Till he come home again , I would forbear .
+
+Patience unmov'd ! no marvel though she pause ;
+They can be meek that have no other cause .
+A wretched soul , bruis'd with adversity ,
+We bid be quiet when we hear it cry ;
+But were we burden'd with like weight of pain ,
+As much , or more we should ourselves complain :
+So thou , that hast no unkind mate to grieve thee ,
+With urging helpless patience wouldst relieve me :
+But if thou live to see like right bereft .
+This fool-begg'd patience in thee will be left .
+
+Well , I will marry one day , but to try .
+Here comes your man : now is your husband nigh .
+
+
+Say , is your tardy master now at hand ?
+
+Nay , he's at two hands with me , and that my two ears can witness .
+
+Say , didst thou speak with him ? Know'st thou his mind ?
+
+Ay , ay , he told his mind upon mine ear .
+Beshrew his hand , I scarce could understand it .
+
+Spake he so doubtfully , thou couldst not feel his meaning ?
+
+Nay , he struck so plainly , I could too well feel his blows ; and withal so doubtfully , that I could scarce understand them .
+
+But say , I prithee , is he coming home ?
+It seems he hath great care to please his wife .
+
+Why , mistress , sure my master is horn-mad .
+
+Horn-mad , thou villain !
+
+I mean not cuckold-mad ; but , sure , he is stark mad .
+When I desir'd him to come home to dinner ,
+He ask'd me for a thousand marks in gold :
+''Tis dinner time ,' quoth I ; 'my gold !' quoth he :
+'Your meat doth burn ,' quoth I ; 'my gold !' quoth he :
+'Will you come home ?' quoth I : 'my gold !' quoth he :
+'Where is the thousand marks I gave thee , villain ?'
+'The pig ,' quoth I , 'is burn'd ;' 'my gold !' quoth he :
+'My mistress , sir ,' quoth I : 'hang up thy mistress !
+I know not thy mistress : out on thy mistress !'
+
+Quoth who ?
+
+Quoth my master :
+'I know ,' quoth he , 'no house , no wife , no mistress .'
+So that my errand , due unto my tongue ,
+I thank him , I bear home upon my shoulders ;
+For , in conclusion , he did beat me there .
+
+Go back again , thou slave , and fetch him home .
+
+Go back again , and be new beaten home ?
+For God's sake , send some other messenger .
+
+Back , slave , or I will break thy pate across .
+
+And he will bless that cross with other beating :
+Between you , I shall have a holy head .
+
+Hence , prating peasant ! fetch thy master home .
+
+Am I so round with you as you with me ,
+That like a football you do spurn me thus ?
+You spurn me hence , and he will spurn me hither :
+If I last in this service , you must case me in leather .
+
+
+Fie , how impatience loureth in your face !
+
+His company must do his minions grace ,
+Whilst I at home starve for a merry look .
+Hath homely age the alluring beauty took
+From my poor cheek ? then , he hath wasted it :
+Are my discourses dull ? barren my wit ?
+If voluble and sharp discourse be marr'd ,
+Unkindness blunts it more than marble hard :
+Do their gay vestments his affections bait ?
+That's not my fault ; he's master of my state :
+What ruins are in me that can be found
+By him not ruin'd ? then is he the ground
+Of my defeatures . My decayed fair
+A sunny look of his would soon repair ;
+But , too unruly deer , he breaks the pale
+And feeds from home : poor I am but his stale .
+
+Self-harming jealousy ! fie ! beat it hence .
+
+Unfeeling fools can with such wrengs dispense .
+I know his eye doth homage otherwhere ,
+Or else what lets it but he would be here ?
+Sister , you know he promis'd me a chain :
+Would that alone , alone he would detain ,
+So he would keep fair quarter with his bed !
+I see , the jewel best enamelled
+Will lose his beauty ; and though gold bides still
+That others touch , yet often touching will
+Wear gold ; and no man that hath a name ,
+By falsehood and corruption doth it shame .
+Since that my beauty cannot please his eye ,
+I'll weep what's left away , and weeping die .
+
+How many fond fools serve mad jealousy !
+
+
+The gold I gave to Dromio is laid up
+Safe at the Centaur ; and the heedful slave
+Is wander'd forth , in care to seek me out .
+By computation , and mine host's report ,
+I could not speak with Dromio since at first
+I sent him from the mart . See , here he comes .
+
+
+How now , sir ! is your merry humour alter'd ?
+As you love strokes , so jest with me again .
+You know no Centaur ? You receiv'd no gold ?
+Your mistress sent to have me home to dinner ?
+My house was at the Ph nix ? Wast thou mad ,
+
+That thus so madly thou didst answer me ?
+
+What answer , sir ? when spake I such a word ?
+
+Even now , even here , not half-an-hour since .
+
+I did not see you since you sent me hence ,
+Home to the Centaur , with the gold you gave me .
+
+Villain , thou didst deny the gold's receipt ,
+And told'st me of a mistress and a dinner ;
+For which , I hope , thou felt'st I was displeas'd .
+
+I am glad to see you in this merry vein :
+What means this jest ? I pray you , master , tell me .
+
+Yea , dost thou jeer , and flout me in the teeth ?
+Think'st thou I jest ? Hold , take thou that , and that .
+
+
+Hold , sir , for God's sake ! now your jest is earnest .
+Upon what bargain do you give it me ?
+
+Because that I familiarly sometimes
+Do use you for my fool , and chat with you ,
+Your sauciness will jest upon my love ,
+And make a common of my serious hours .
+When the sun shines let foolish gnats make sport ,
+But creep in crannies when he hides his beams .
+If you will jest with me , know my aspect ,
+And fashion your demeanour to my looks ,
+Or I will beat this method in your sconce .
+
+Sconce , call you it ? so you would leave battering , I had rather have it a head : an you use these blows long , I must get a sconce for my head and insconce it too ; or else I shall seek my wit in my shoulders . But , I pray , sir , why am I beaten ?
+
+Dost thou not know ?
+
+Nothing , sir , but that I am beaten .
+
+Shall I tell you why ?
+
+Ay , sir , and wherefore ; for they say every why hath a wherefore .
+
+Why , first ,for flouting me ; and then , wherefore ,
+For urging it the second time to me .
+
+Was there ever any man thus beaten out of season ,
+When , in the why and the wherefore is neither rime nor reason ?
+Well , sir , I thank you .
+
+Thank me , sir ! for what ?
+
+Marry , sir , for this something that you gave me for nothing .
+
+I'll make you amends next , to give you nothing for something . But say , sir , is it dinner-time ?
+
+No , sir : I think the meat wants that I have
+
+In good time , sir ; what's that ?
+
+Basting .
+
+Well , sir , then 'twill be dry .
+
+If it be , sir , I pray you eat none of it .
+
+Your reason ?
+
+Lest it make you choleric , and purchase me another dry basting .
+
+Well , sir , learn to jest in good time : there's a time for all things .
+
+I durst have denied that , before you were so choleric .
+
+By what rule , sir ?
+
+Marry , sir , by a rule as plain as the plain bald pate of Father Time himself .
+
+Let's hear it .
+
+There's no time for a man to recover his hair that grows bald by nature .
+
+May he not do it by fine and recovery ?
+
+Yes , to pay a fine for a periwig and recover the lost hair of another man .
+
+Why is Time such a niggard of hair , being , as it is , so plentiful an excrement ?
+
+Because it is a blessing that he bestows on beasts : and what he hath scanted men in hair , he hath given them in wit .
+
+Why , but there's many a man hath more hair than wit .
+
+Not a man of those but he hath the wit to lose his hair .
+
+Why , thou didst conclude hairy men plain dealers without wit .
+
+The plainer dealer , the sooner lost : yet be loseth it in a kind of jollity .
+
+For what reason ?
+
+For two ; and sound ones too .
+
+Nay , not sound , I pray you .
+
+Sure ones then .
+
+Nay , not sure , in a thing falsing .
+
+Certain ones , then .
+
+Name them .
+
+The one , to save the money that he spends in tiring ; the other , that at dinner they should not drop in his porridge .
+
+You would all this time have proved there is no time for all things .
+
+Marry , and did , sir ; namely , no time to recover hair lost by nature .
+
+But your reason was not substantial , why there is not time to recover .
+
+Thus I mend it : Time himself is bald , and therefore to the world's end will have bald followers .
+
+I knew 'twould be a bald conclusion .
+But soft ! who wafts us yonder ?
+
+
+Ay , ay , Antipholus , look strange , and frown :
+Some other mistress hath thy sweet aspects ,
+I am not Adriana , nor thy wife .
+The time was once when thou unurg'd wouldst vow
+That never words were music to thine ear ,
+That never object pleasing in thine eye ,
+That never touch well welcome to thy hand ,
+That never meat sweet-savour'd in thy taste ,
+Unless I spake , or look'd , or touch'd , or carv'd to thee .
+How comes it now , my husband , O ! how comes it ,
+That thou art thus estranged from thyself ?
+Thyself I call it , being strange to me ,
+That , undividable , incorporate ,
+Am better than thy dear self's better part .
+Ah ! do not tear away thyself from me ,
+For know , my love , as easy mayst thou fall
+A drop of water in the breaking gulf ,
+And take unmingled thence that drop again ,
+Without addition or diminishing ,
+As take from me thyself and not me too .
+How dearly would it touch thee to the quick ,
+Shouldst thou but hear I were licentious ,
+And that this body , consecrate to thee ,
+By ruffian lust should be contaminate !
+Wouldst thou not spit at me and spurn at me ,
+And hurl the name of husband in my face ,
+And tear the stain'd skin off my harlot-brow ,
+And from my false hand cut the wedding-ring
+And break it with a deep-divorcing vow ?
+I know thou canst ; and therefore , see thou do it .
+I am possess'd with an adulterate blot ;
+My blood is mingled with the crime of lust :
+For if we two be one and thou play false ,
+I do digest the poison of thy flesh ,
+Being strumpeted by thy contagion .
+Keep then fair league and truce with thy true bed ;
+I live unstain'd , thou undishonoured .
+
+Plead you to me , fair dame ? I know you not :
+In Ephesus I am but two hours old ,
+As strange unto your town as to your talk ;
+Who , every word by all my wit being scann'd ,
+Want wit in all one word to understand .
+
+Fie , brother : how the world is chang'd with you !
+When were you wont to use my sister thus ?
+She sent for you by Dromio home to dinner .
+
+By Dromio ?
+
+By me ?
+
+By thee ; and this thou didst return from him ,
+That he did buffet thee , and in his blows ,
+Denied my house for his , me for his wife .
+
+Did you converse , sir , with this gentle-woman ?
+What is the course and drift of your compact ?
+
+I , sir ? I never saw her till this time .
+
+Villain , thou liest ; for even her very words
+Didst thou deliver to me on the mart .
+
+I never spake with her in all my life .
+
+How can she thus then , call us by our names ,
+Unless it be by inspiration ?
+
+How ill agrees it with your gravity
+To counterfeit thus grossly with your slave ,
+A betting him to thwart me in my mood !
+Be it my wrong you are from me exempt ,
+But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt .
+Come , I will fasten on this sleeve of thine ;
+Thou art an elm , my husband , I a vine ,
+Whose weakness , married to thy stronger state ,
+Makes me with thy strength to communicate :
+If aught possess thee from me , it is dross ,
+Usurping ivy , brier , or idle moss ;
+Who , all for want of pruning , with intrusion
+Infect thy sap and live on thy confusion .
+
+To me she speaks ; she moves me for her theme !
+What ! was I married to her in my dream ?
+Or sleep I now and think I hear all this ?
+What error drives our eyes and ears amiss ?
+Until I know this sure uncertainty ,
+I'll entertain the offer'd fallacy .
+
+Dromio , go bid the servants spread for dinner
+
+O , for my beads ! I cross me for a sinner .
+This is the fairy land : O ! spite of spites .
+We talk with goblins , owls , and elvish sprites :
+If we obey them not , this will ensue ,
+They'll suck our breath , or pinch us black and blue .
+
+Why prat'st thou to thyself and answer'st not ?
+Dromio , thou drone , thou snail , thou slug , thou sot !
+
+I am transformed , master , am not I ?
+
+I think thou art , in mind , and so am I .
+
+Nay , master , both in mind and in my shape .
+
+Thou hast thine own form .
+
+No , I am an ape .
+
+If thou art chang'd to aught , 'tis to an ass .
+
+'Tis true ; she rides me and I long for grass .
+'Tis so , I am an ass ; else it could never be
+But I should know her as well as she knows me .
+
+Come , come ; no longer will I be a fool ,
+To put the finger in the eye and weep ,
+Whilst man and master laugh my woes to scorn .
+Come , sir , to dinner . Dromio , keep the gate .
+Husband , I'll dine above with you to-day ,
+And shrive you of a thousand idle pranks .
+Sirrah , if any ask you for your master ,
+Say he dines forth , and let no creature enter .
+Come , sister . Dromio , play the porter well .
+
+Am I in earth , in heaven , or in hell ?
+Sleeping or waking ? mad or well-advis'd ?
+Known unto these , and to myself disguis'd !
+I'll say as they say , and persever so ,
+And in this mist at all adventures go .
+
+Master , shall I be porter at the gate ?
+
+Ay ; and let none enter , lest I break your pate .
+
+Come , come , Antipholus ; we dine too late .
+
+Good Signior Angelo , you must excuse us all ;
+My wife is shrewish when I keep not hours ;
+Say that I linger'd with you at your shop
+To see the making of her carkanet ,
+And that to-morrow you will bring it home .
+But here's a villain , that would face me down
+He met me on the mart , and that I beat him ,
+And charg'd him with a thousand marks in gold ,
+And that I did deny my wife and house .
+Thou drunkard , thou , what didst thou mean by this ?
+
+Say what you will , sir , but I know what I know ;
+That you beat me at the mart , I have your hand to show :
+If the skin were parchment and the blows you gave were ink ,
+Your own handwriting would tell you what I think .
+
+I think thou art an ass .
+
+Marry , so it doth appear
+By the wrongs I suffer and the blows I bear .
+I should kick , being kick'd ; and , being at that pass ,
+You would keep from my heels and beware of an ass .
+
+You are sad , Signior Balthazar : pray God , our cheer
+May answer my good will and your good welcome here .
+
+I hold your dainties cheap , sir , and your welcome dear .
+
+O , Signior Balthazar , either at flesh or fish ,
+A table-full of welcome makes scarce one dainty dish .
+
+Good meat , sir , is common ; that every churl affords .
+
+And welcome more common , for that's nothing but words .
+
+Small cheer and great welcome makes a merry feast .
+
+Ay , to a niggardly host and more sparing guest :
+But though my cates be mean , take them in good part ;
+Better cheer may you have , but not with better heart .
+But soft ! my door is lock'd . Go bid them let us in .
+
+Maud , Bridget , Marian , Cicely , Gillian , Ginn !
+
+Mome , malt-horse , capon , coxcomb , idiot , patch !
+Either get thee from the door or sit down at the hatch .
+Dost thou conjure for wenches , that thou call'st for such store ,
+When one is one too many ? Go , get thee from the door .
+
+What patch is made our porter ?My master stays in the street .
+
+Let him walk from whence he came , lest he catch cold on's feet .
+
+Who talks within there ? ho ! open the door .
+
+Right , sir ; I'll tell you when , an you'll tell me wherefore .
+
+Wherefore ? for my dinner : I have not din'd to-day .
+
+Nor to-day here you must not ; come again when you may .
+
+What art thou that keep'st me out from the house I owe ?
+
+The porter for this time , sir , and my name is Dromio .
+
+O villain ! thou hast stolen both mine office and my name :
+The one ne'er got me credit , the other mickle blame .
+If thou hadst been Dromio to-day in my place ,
+Thou wouldst have chang'd thy face for a name , or thy name for an ass .
+
+What a coil is there , Dromio ! who are those at the gate ?
+
+Let my master in , Luce .
+
+Faith , no ; he comes too late ;
+And so tell your master .
+
+O Lord ! I must laugh .
+Have at you with a proverb : Shall I set in my staff ?
+
+Have at you with another : that's when ? can you tell ?
+
+If thy name be call'd Luce ,Luce , thou hast answer'd him well .
+
+Do you hear , you minion ? you'll let us in , I trow ?
+
+I thought to have ask'd you .
+
+And you said , no .
+
+So come , help : well struck ! there was blow for blow .
+
+Thou baggage , let me in .
+
+Can you tell for whose sake ?
+
+Master , knock the door hard .
+
+Let him knock till it ache .
+
+You'll cry for this , minion , if I beat the door down .
+
+What needs all that , and a pair of stocks in the town ?
+
+Who is that at the door that keeps all this noise ?
+
+By my troth your town is troubled with unruly boys .
+
+Are you there , wife ? you might have come before .
+
+Your wife , sir knave ! go , get you from the door .
+
+If you went in pain , master , this 'knave' would go sore .
+
+Here is neither cheer , sir , nor welcome : we would fain have either .
+
+In debating which was best , we shall part with neither .
+
+They stand at the door , master : bid them welcome hither .
+
+There is something in the wind , that we cannot get in .
+
+You would say so , master , if your garments were thin .
+Your cake here is warm within ; you stand here in the cold :
+It would make a man mad as a buck to be so bought and sold .
+
+Go fetch me something : I'll break ope the gate .
+
+Break any breaking here , and I'll break your knave's pate .
+
+A man may break a word with you , sir , and words are but wind :
+Ay , and break it in your face , so he break it not behind .
+
+It seems thou wantest breaking : out upon thee , hind !
+
+Here's too much 'out upon thee !' I pray thee , let me in .
+
+Ay , when fowls have no feathers , and fish have no fin .
+
+Well , I'll break in . Go borrow me a crow .
+
+A crow without feather ? Master , mean you so ?
+For a fish without a fin , there's a fowl without a feather :
+If a crow help us in , sirrah , we'll pluck a crow together .
+
+Go get thee gone : fetch me an iron crow .
+
+Have patience , sir ; O ! let it not be so ;
+Herein you war against your reputation ,
+And draw within the compass of suspect
+The unviolated honour of your wife .
+Once this ,your long experience of her wisdom ,
+Her sober virtue , years , and modesty ,
+Plead on her part some cause to you unknown ;
+And doubt not , sir , but she will well excuse
+Why at this time the doors are made against you .
+Be rul'd by me : depart in patience ,
+And let us to the Tiger all to dinner ;
+And about evening come yourself alone ,
+To know the reason of this strange restraint .
+If by strong hand you offer to break in
+Now in the stirring passage of the day ,
+A vulgar comment will be made of it ,
+And that supposed by the common rout
+Against your yet ungalled estimation ,
+That may with foul intrusion enter in
+And dwell upon your grave when you are dead ;
+For slander lives upon succession ,
+For ever housed where it gets possession .
+
+You have prevail'd : I will depart in quiet ,
+And , in despite of mirth , mean to be merry .
+I know a wench of excellent discourse ,
+Pretty and witty , wild and yet , too , gentle :
+There will we dine : this woman that I mean ,
+My wife ,but , I protest , without desert ,
+Hath oftentimes upbraided me withal :
+To her will we to dinner .
+
+Get you home ,
+And fetch the chain ; by this I know 'tis made :
+Bring it , I pray you , to the Porpentine ;
+For there's the house : that chain will I bestow ,
+Be it for nothing but to spite my wife ,
+Upon mine hostess there . Good sir , make haste .
+Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me ,
+I'll knock elsewhere , to see if they'll disdain me .
+
+I'll meet you at that place some hour hence .
+
+Do so . This jest shall cost me some expense .
+
+
+And may it be that you have quite forgot A husband's office ? Shall , Antipholus ,
+Even in the spring of love , thy love-springs rot ?
+Shall love , in building , grow so ruinous ?
+If you did wed my sister for her wealth ,
+Then , for her wealth's sake use her with more kindness :
+Or , if you like elsewhere , do it by stealth ;
+Muffle your false love with some show of blindness ;
+Let not my sister read it in your eye ;
+Be not thy tongue thy own shame's orator ;
+Look sweet , speak fair , become disloyalty ;
+Apparel vice like virtue's harbinger ;
+Bear a fair presence , though your heart be tainted ;
+Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint ;
+Be secret-false : what need she be acquainted ?
+What simple thief brags of his own attaint ?
+'Tis double wrong to truant with your bed ,
+And let her read it in thy looks at board :
+Shame hath a bastard fame , well managed ;
+Ill deeds are doubled with an evil word .
+Alas ! poor women , make us but believe ,
+Being compact of credit , that you love us ;
+Though others have the arm , show us the sleeve ;
+We in your motion turn , and you may move us .
+Then , gentle brother , get you in again ;
+Comfort my sister , cheer her , call her wife :
+'Tis holy sport to be a little vain ,
+When the sweet breath of flattery conquers strife .
+
+Sweet mistress ,what your name is else , I know not ,
+Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine ,
+Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not
+Than our earth's wonder ; more than earth divine .
+Teach me , dear creature , how to think and speak :
+Lay open to my earthy-gross conceit ,
+Smother'd in errors , feeble , shallow , weak ,
+The folded meaning of your words' deceit .
+Against my soul's pure truth why labour you
+To make it wander in an unknown field ?
+Are you a god ? would you create me new ?
+Transform me then , and to your power I'll yield .
+But if that I am I , then well I know
+Your weeping sister is no wife of mine ,
+Nor to her bed no homage do I owe :
+Far more , far more , to you do I decline .
+O ! train me not , sweet mermaid , with thy note ,
+To drown me in thy sister flood of tears :
+Sing , siren , for thyself , and I will dote :
+Spread o'er the silver waves thy golden hairs ,
+And as a bed I'll take them and there lie ;
+And , in that glorious supposition think
+He gains by death that hath such means to die :
+Let Love , being light , be drowned if she sink !
+
+What ! are you mad , that you do reason so ?
+
+Not mad , but mated ; how , I do not know .
+
+It is a fault that springeth from your eye .
+
+For gazing on your beams ; fair sun , being by .
+
+Gaze where you should , and that will clear your sight .
+
+As good to wink , sweet love , as look on night .
+
+Why call you me love ? call my sister so .
+
+Thy sister's sister .
+
+That's my sister .
+
+No ;
+It is thyself , mine own self's better part ;
+Mine eye's clear eye , my dear heart's dearer heart ;
+My food , my fortune , and my sweet hope's aim ,
+My sole earth's heaven , and my heaven's claim .
+
+All this my sister is , or else should be .
+
+Call thyself sister , sweet , for I aim thee .
+Thee will I love and with thee lead my life :
+Thou hast no husband yet nor I no wife .
+Give me thy hand .
+
+O ! soft , sir ; hold you still :
+I'll fetch my sister , to get her good will .
+
+Why , how now , Dromio ! where run'st thou so fast ?
+
+Do you know me , sir ? am I Dromio ? am I your man ? am I myself ?
+
+Thou art Dromio , thou art my man , thou art thyself .
+
+I am an ass , I am a woman's man and besides myself .
+
+What woman's man ? and how besides thyself ?
+
+Marry , sir , besides myself , I am due to a woman ; one that claims me , one that haunts me , one that will have me .
+
+What claim lays she to thee ?
+
+Marry , sir , such claim as you would lay to your horse ; and she would have me as a beast : not that , I being a beast , she would have me ; but that she , being a very beastly creature , lays claim to me .
+
+What is she ?
+
+A very reverent body ; aye , such a one as a man may not speak of , without he say , 'Sir-reverence .' I have but lean luck in the match , and yet is she a wondrous fat marriage .
+
+How dost thou mean a fat marriage ?
+
+Marry , sir , she's the kitchen-wench , and all grease ; and I know not what use to put her to but to make a lamp of her and run from her by her own light . I warrant her rags and the tallow in them will burn a Poland winter ; if she lives till doomsday , she'll burn a week longer than the whole world .
+
+What complexion is she of ?
+
+Swart , like my shoe , but her face nothing like so clean kept : for why she sweats ; a man may go over shoes in the grime of it .
+
+That's a fault that water will mend .
+
+No , sir , 'tis in grain ; Noah's flood could not do it .
+
+What's her name ?
+
+Nell , sir ; but her name and three quarters ,that is , an ell and three quarters ,will not measure her from hip to hip .
+
+Then she bears some breadth ?
+
+No longer from head to foot than from hip to hip : she is spherical , like a globe ; I could find out countries in her .
+
+In what part of her body stands Ireland ?
+
+Marry , sir , in her buttocks : I found it out by the bogs .
+
+Where Scotland ?
+
+I found it by the barrenness ; hard in the palm of the hand .
+
+Where France ?
+
+In her forehead ; armed and reverted , making war against her heir .
+
+Where England ?
+
+I looked for the chalky cliffs , but I could find no whiteness in them : but I guess it stood in her chin , by the salt rheum that ran between France and it .
+
+Where Spain ?
+
+Faith , I saw not ; but I felt it hot in her breath .
+
+Where America , the Indies ?
+
+O , sir ! upon her nose , all o'er embellished with rubies , carbuncles , sapphires , declining their rich aspect to the hot breath of Spain , who sent whole armadoes of caracks to be ballast at her nose .
+
+Where stood Belgia , the Netherlands ?
+
+O , sir ! I did not look so low . To conclude , this drudge , or diviner , laid claim to me ; call'd me Dromio ; swore I was assured to her ; told me what privy marks I had about me , as the mark of my shoulder , the mole in my neck , the great wart on my left arm , that I , amazed , ran from her as a witch .
+And , I think , if my breast had not been made of faith and my heart of steel ,
+She had transform'd me to a curtal dog and made me turn i' the wheel .
+
+Go hie thee presently post to the road :
+An if the wind blow any way from shore ,
+I will not harbour in this town to-night :
+If any bark put forth , come to the mart ,
+Where I will walk till thou return to me .
+If every one knows us and we know none ,
+'Tis time , I think , to trudge , pack , and be gone .
+
+As from a bear a man would run for life ,
+So fly I from her that would be my wife .
+
+
+There's none but witches do inhabit here ,
+And therefore 'tis high time that I were hence .
+She that doth call me husband , even my soul
+Doth for a wife abhor ; but her fair sister ,
+Possess'd with such a gentle sovereign grace ,
+Of such enchanting presence and discourse ,
+Hath almost made me traitor to myself :
+But , lest myself be guilty to self-wrong ,
+I'll stop mine ears against the mermaid's song .
+
+
+Master Antipholus !
+
+Ay , that's my name .
+
+I know it well , sir : lo , here is the chain .
+I thought to have ta'en you at the Porpentine ;
+The chain unfinish'd made me stay thus long .
+
+What is your will that I shall do with this ?
+
+What please yourself , sir : I have made it for you .
+
+Made it for me , sir ! I bespoke it not
+
+Not once , nor twice , but twenty times you have .
+Go home with it and please your wife withal ;
+And soon at supper-time I'll visit you ,
+And then receive my money for the chain .
+
+I pray you , sir , receive the money now ,
+For fear you ne'er see chain nor money more .
+
+You are a merry man , sir : fare you well .
+
+
+What I should think of this , I cannot tell :
+But this I think , there's no man is so vain
+That would refuse so fair an offer'd chain .
+I see , a man here needs not live by shifts ,
+When in the streets he meets such golden gifts .
+I'll to the mart , and there for Dromio stay :
+If any ship put out , then straight away .
+
+You know since Pentecost the sum is due ,
+And since I have not much importun'd you ;
+Nor now I had not , but that I am bound
+To Persia , and want guilders for my voyage :
+Therefore make present satisfaction ,
+Or I'll attach you by this officer .
+
+Even just the sum that I do owe to you
+Is growing to me by Antipholus ;
+And in the instant that I met with you
+He had of me a chain : at five o'clock
+I shall receive the money for the same .
+Pleaseth you walk with me down to his house ,
+I will discharge my bond , and thank you too .
+
+
+That labour may you save : see where he comes .
+
+While I go to the goldsmith's house , go thou
+And buy a rope's end , that I will bestow
+Among my wife and her confederates ,
+For locking me out of my doors by day .
+But soft ! I see the goldsmith . Get thee gone ;
+Buy thou a rope , and bring it home to me .
+
+I buy a thousand pound a year : I buy a rope !
+
+
+A man is well holp up that trusts to you :
+I promised your presence and the chain ;
+But neither chain nor goldsmith came to me .
+Belike you thought our love would last too long ,
+If it were chain'd together , and therefore came not .
+
+Saving your merry humour , here's the note
+How much your chain weighs to the utmost carat .
+The fineness of the gold , and chargeful fashion ,
+Which doth amount to three odd ducats more
+Than I stand debted to this gentleman :
+I pray you see him presently discharg'd ,
+For he is bound to sea and stays but for it .
+
+I am not furnish'd with the present money ;
+Besides , I have some business in the town .
+Good signior , take the stranger to my house ,
+And with you take the chain , and bid my wife
+Disburse the sum on the receipt thereof :
+Perchance I will be there as soon as you .
+
+Then , you will bring the chain to her yourself ?
+
+No ; bear it with you , lest I come not time enough .
+
+Well , sir , I will . Have you the chain about you ?
+
+An if I have not , sir , I hope you have ,
+Or else you may return without your money .
+
+Nay , come , I pray you , sir , give me the chain :
+Both wind and tide stays for this gentleman ,
+And I , to blame , have held him here too long .
+
+Good Lord ! you use this dalliance to excuse
+Your breach of promise to the Porpentine .
+I should have child you for not bringing it ,
+But , like a shrew , you first begin to brawl .
+
+The hour steals on ; I pray you , sir , dispatch .
+
+You hear how he importunes me : the chain !
+
+Why , give it to my wife and fetch your money .
+
+Come , come ; you know I gave it you even now .
+Either send the chain or send by me some token .
+
+Fie ! now you run this humour out of breath .
+Come , where's the chain ? I pray you , let me see it .
+
+My business cannot brook this dalliance .
+Good sir , say whe'r you'll answer me or no :
+If not , I'll leave him to the officer .
+
+I answer you ! what should I answer you ?
+
+The money that you owe me for the chain .
+
+I owe you none till I receive the chain .
+
+You know I gave it you half an hour since .
+
+You gave me none : you wrong me much to say so .
+
+You wrong me more , sir , in denying it :
+Consider how it stands upon my credit .
+
+Well , officer , arrest him at my suit .
+
+I do ;
+And charge you in the duke's name to obey me .
+
+This touches me in reputation .
+Either consent to pay this sum for me ,
+Or I attach you by this officer .
+
+Consent to pay thee that I never had !
+Arrest me , foolish fellow , if thou dar'st .
+
+Here is thy fee : arrest him , officer .
+I would not spare my brother in this case ,
+If he should scorn me so apparently .
+
+I do arrest you , sir : you hear the suit .
+
+I do obey thee till I give thee bail .
+But , sirrah , you shall buy this sport as dear
+As all the metal in your shop will answer .
+
+Sir , sir , I shall have law in Ephesus ,
+To your notorious shame , I doubt it not .
+
+
+Master , there is a bark of Epidamnum
+That stays but till her owner comes aboard ,
+And then she bears away . Our fraughtage , sir ,
+I have convey'd aboard , and I have bought
+The oil , the balsamum , and aqua-vit .
+The ship is in her trim ; the merry wind
+Blows fair from land ; they stay for nought at all
+But for their owner , master , and yourself .
+
+How now ! a madman ! Why , thou peevish sheep ,
+What ship of Epidamnum stays for me ?
+
+A ship you sent me to , to hire waftage .
+
+Thou drunken slave , I sent thee for a rope ;
+And told thee to what purpose , and what end .
+
+You sent me for a rope's end as soon :
+You sent me to the bay , sir , for a bark .
+
+I will debate this matter at more leisure ,
+And teach your ears to list me with more heed .
+To Adriana , villain , hie thee straight ;
+Give her this key , and tell her , in the desk
+That's cover'd o'er with Turkish tapestry ,
+There is a purse of ducats : let her send it .
+Tell her I am arrested in the street ,
+And that shall bail me . Hie thee , slave , be gone !
+On , officer , to prison till it come .
+
+
+To Adriana ! that is where we din'd ,
+Where Dowsabel did claim me for her husband :
+She is too big , I hope , for me to compass .
+Thither I must , although against my will ,
+For servants must their masters' minds fulfil .
+
+
+Ah ! Luciana , did he tempt thee so ?
+Mights thou perceive austerely in his eye
+That he did plead in earnest ? yea or no ?
+Look'd he or red or pale ? or sad or merrily ?
+What observation mad'st thou in this case
+Of his heart's meteors tilting in his face ?
+
+First he denied you had in him no right .
+
+He meant he did me none ; the more my spite .
+
+Then swore he that he was a stranger here .
+
+And true he swore , though yet forsworn he were .
+
+Then pleaded I for you .
+
+And what said he ?
+
+That love I begg'd for you he begg'd of me .
+
+With what persuasion did he tempt thy love ?
+
+With words that in an honest suit might move .
+First , he did praise my beauty , then my speech .
+
+Didst speak him fair ?
+
+Have patience , I beseech .
+
+I cannot , nor I will not hold me still :
+My tongue , though not my heart , shall have his will .
+He is deformed , crooked , old and sere ,
+Ill-fac'd , worse bodied , shapeless every where :
+Vicious , ungentle , foolish , blunt , unkind ,
+Stigmatical in making , worse in mind .
+
+Who would be jealous then , of such a one ?
+No evil lost is wail'd when it is gone .
+
+Ah ! but I think him better than I say ,
+And yet would herein others' eyes were worse .
+Far from her nest the lapwing cries away :
+My heart prays for him , though my tongue do curse .
+
+
+Here , go : the desk ! the purse ! sweet , now , make haste .
+
+How hast thou lost thy breath ?
+
+By running fast .
+
+Where is thy master , Dromio ? is he well ?
+
+No , he's in Tartar limbo , worse than hell .
+A devil in an everlasting garment hath him ,
+One whose hard heart is button'd up with steel ;
+A fiend , a fairy , pitiless and rough ;
+A wolf , nay , worse , a fellow all in buff ;
+A back-friend , a shoulder-clapper , one that countermands
+The passages of alleys , creeks and narrow lands ;
+A hound that runs counter and yet draws dryfoot well ;
+One that , before the judgment , carries poor souls to hell .
+
+Why , man , what is the matter ?
+
+I do not know the matter : he is 'rested on the case .
+
+What , is he arrested ? tell me at whose suit .
+
+I know not at whose suit he is arrested well ;
+But he's in a suit of buff which 'rested him , that can I tell .
+Will you send him , mistress , redemption , the money in his desk ?
+
+Go fetch it , sister .
+
+This I wonder at :
+That he , unknown to me , should be in debt :
+Tell me , was he arrested on a band ?
+
+Not on a band , but on a stronger thing ;
+A chain , a chain . Do you not hear it ring ?
+
+What , the chain ?
+
+No , no , the bell : 'tis time that I were gone :
+It was two ere I left him , and now the clock strikes one .
+
+The hours come back ! that did I never hear .
+
+O yes ; if any hour meet a sergeant , a' turns back for very fear .
+
+As if Time were in debt ! how fondly dost thou reason !
+
+Time is a very bankrupt , and owes more than he's worth to season .
+Nay , he's a thief too : have you not heard men say ,
+That Time comes stealing on by night and day ?
+If Time be in debt and theft , and a sergeant in the way ,
+Hath he not reason to turn back an hour in a day ?
+
+
+Go , Dromio : there's the money , bear it straight ,
+And bring thy master home immediately .
+Come , sister ; I am press'd down with conceit ; Conceit , my comfort and my injury .
+
+
+There's not a man I meet but doth salute me ,
+As if I were their well acquainted friend ;
+And every one doth call me by my name .
+Some tender money to me ; some invite me ;
+Some other give me thanks for kindnesses ;
+Some offer me commodities to buy :
+Even now a tailor call'd me in his shop
+And show'd me silks that he had bought for me ,
+And therewithal , took measure of my body .
+Sure these are but imaginary wiles ,
+And Lapland sorcerers inhabit here .
+
+
+Master , here's the gold you sent me for .
+What ! have you got the picture of old Adam new apparelled ?
+
+What gold is this ? What Adam dost thou mean ?
+
+Not that Adam that kept the Paradise , but that Adam that keeps the prison : he that goes in the calf's skin that was killed for the Prodigal : he that came behind you , sir , like an evil angel , and bid you forsake your liberty .
+
+I understand thee not .
+
+No ? why , 'tis a plain case : he that went , like a base-viol , in a case of leather ; the man , sir , that , when gentlemen are tired , gives them a fob , and 'rests them ; he , sir , that takes pity on decayed men and gives them suits of durance ; he that sets up his rest to do more exploits with his mace than a morris-pike .
+
+What , thou meanest an officer ?
+
+Ay , sir , the sergeant of the band ; he that brings any man to answer it that breaks his band ; one that thinks a man always going to bed , and says , 'God give you good rest !'
+
+Well , sir , there rest in your foolery . Is there any ship puts forth to-night ? may we be gone ?
+
+Why , sir , I brought you word an hour since that the bark Expedition put forth to-night ; and then were you hindered by the sergeant to tarry for the hoy Delay . Here are the angels that you sent for to deliver you .
+
+The fellow is distract , and so am I ;
+And here we wander in illusions :
+Some blessed power deliver us from hence !
+
+
+Well met , well met , Master Antipholus .
+I see , sir , you have found the goldsmith now :
+Is that the chain you promis'd me to-day ?
+
+Satan , avoid ! I charge thee tempt me not !
+
+Master , is this Mistress Satan ?
+
+It is the devil .
+
+Nay , she is worse , she is the devil's dam , and here she comes in the habit of a light wench : and thereof comes that the wenches say , 'God damn me ;' that's as much as to say , 'God make me a light wench .' It is written , they appear to men like angels of light : light is an effect of fire , and fire will burn ; ergo , light wenches will burn . Come not near her .
+
+Your man and you are marvellous merry , sir . Will you go with me ? we'll mend our dinner here .
+
+Master , if you do , expect spoon-meat , so bespeak a long spoon .
+
+Why , Dromio ?
+
+Marry , he must have a long spoon that must eat with the devil .
+
+Avoid thee , fiend ! what tell'st thou me of supping ?
+Thou art , as you are all , a sorceress :
+I conjure thee to leave me and be gone .
+
+Give me the ring of mine you had at dinner ,
+Or , for my diamond , the chain you promis'd ,
+And I'll be gone , sir , and not trouble you .
+
+Some devils ask but the parings of one's nail ,
+A rush , a hair , a drop of blood , a pin ,
+A nut , a cherry-stone ;
+But she , more covetous , would have a chain .
+Master , be wise : an if you give it her ,
+The devil will shake her chain and fright us with it .
+
+I pray you , sir , my ring , or else the chain :
+I hope you do not mean to cheat me so .
+
+Avaunt , thou witch ! Come , Dromio , let us go .
+
+'Fly pride ,' says the peacock : mistress , that you know .
+
+
+Now , out of doubt , Antipholus is mad ,
+Else would he never so demean himself .
+A ring he hath of mine worth forty ducats ,
+And for the same he promis'd me a chain :
+Both one and other he denies me now .
+The reason that I gather he is mad ,
+Besides this present instance of his rage ,
+Is a mad tale he told to-day at dinner ,
+Of his own doors being shut against his entrance
+Belike his wife , acquainted with his fits ,
+On purpose shut the doors against his way .
+My way is now to hie home to his house ,
+And tell his wife , that , being lunatic ,
+He rush'd into my house , and took perforce
+My ring away . This course I fittest choose ,
+For forty ducats is too much to lose .
+
+
+Fear me not , man ; I will not break away :
+I'll give thee , ere I leave thee , so much money ,
+To warrant thee , as I am 'rested for .
+My wife is in a wayward mood to-day ,
+And will not lightly trust the messenger .
+That I should be attach'd in Ephesus ,
+I tell you , 'twill sound harshly in her ears .
+
+
+Here comes my man : I think he brings the money .
+
+How now , sir ! have you that I sent you for ?
+
+Here's that , I warrant you , will pay them all .
+
+But where's the money ?
+
+Why , sir , I gave the money for the rope .
+
+Five hundred ducats , villain , for a rope ?
+
+I'll serve you , sir , five hundred at the rate .
+
+To what end did I bid thee hie thee home ?
+
+To a rope's end , sir ; and to that end am I return'd .
+
+And to that end , sir , I will welcome you .
+
+
+Good sir , be patient .
+
+Nay , 'tis for me to be patient ; I am in adversity .
+
+Good now , hold thy tongue .
+
+Nay , rather persuade him to hold his hands .
+
+Thou whoreson , senseless villain !
+
+I would I were senseless , sir , that I might not feel your blows .
+
+Thou art sensible in nothing but blows , and so is an ass .
+
+I am an ass indeed ; you may prove it by my long ears . I have served him from the hour of my nativity to this instant , and have nothing at his hands for my service but blows . When I am cold , he heats me with beating ; when I am warm , he cools me with beating ; I am waked with it when I sleep ; raised with it when I sit ; driven out of doors with it when I go from home ; welcomed home with it when I return ; nay , I bear it on my shoulders , as a beggar wont her brat ; and , I think , when he hath lamed me , I shall beg with it from door to door .
+
+Come , go along ; my wife is coming yonder .
+
+
+Mistress , respice finem , respect your end ; or rather , to prophesy like the parrot , 'Beware the rope's end .'
+
+Wilt thou still talk ?
+
+
+How say you now ? is not your husband mad ?
+
+His incivility confirms no less .
+Good Doctor Pinch , you are a conjurer ;
+Establish him in his true sense again ,
+And I will please you what you will demand .
+
+Alas ! how fiery and how sharp he looks .
+
+Mark how he trembles in his ecstasy !
+
+Give me your hand and let me feel your pulse .
+
+There is my hand , and let it feel your ear .
+
+
+I charge thee , Satan , hous'd within this man ,
+To yield possession to my holy prayers ,
+And to thy state of darkness hie thee straight :
+I conjure thee by all the saints in heaven .
+
+Peace , doting wizard , peace ! I am not mad .
+
+O ! that thou wert not , poor distressed soul !
+
+You minion , you , are these your customers ?
+Did this companion with the saffron face
+Revel and feast it at my house to-day ,
+Whilst upon me the guilty doors were shut
+And I denied to enter in my house ?
+
+O husband , God doth know you din'd at home ;
+Where would you had remain'd until this time .
+Free from these slanders and this open shame !
+
+Din'd at home ! Thou villain , what say'st thou ?
+
+Sir , sooth to say , you did not dine at home .
+
+Were not my doors lock'd up and I shut out ?
+
+Perdy , your doors were lock'd and you shut out .
+
+And did not she herself revile me there ?
+
+Sans fable , she herself revil'd you there .
+
+Did not her kitchen-maid rail , taunt , and scorn me ?
+
+Certes , she did ; the kitchen-vestal scorn'd you .
+
+And did not I in rage depart from thence ?
+
+In verity you did : my bones bear witness ,
+That since have felt the vigour of his rage .
+
+Is't good to soothe him in these contraries ?
+
+It is no shame : the fellow finds his vein ,
+And , yielding to him humours well his frenzy .
+
+Thou hast suborn'd the goldsmith to arrest me .
+
+Alas ! I sent you money to redeem you ,
+By Dromio here , who came in haste for it .
+
+Money by me ! heart and good will you might ;
+But surely , master , not a rag of money .
+
+Went'st not thou to her for a purse of ducats ?
+
+He came to me , and I deliver'd it .
+
+And I am witness with her that she did .
+
+God and the rope-maker bear me witness
+That I was sent for nothing but a rope !
+
+Mistress , both man and master is possess'd :
+I know it by their pale and deadly looks .
+They must be bound and laid in some dark room .
+
+Say , wherefore didst thou lock me forth to-day ?
+And why dost thou deny the bag of gold ?
+
+I did not , gentle husband , lock thee forth .
+
+And , gentle master , I receiv'd no gold ;
+But I confess , sir , that we were lock'd out .
+
+Dissembling villain ! thou speak'st false in both .
+
+Dissembling harlot ! thou art false in all ;
+And art confederate with a damned pack
+To make a loathsome abject scorn of me ;
+But with these nails I'll pluck out those false eyes
+That would behold in me this shameful sport .
+
+O ! bind him , bind him , let him not come near me .
+
+More company ! the fiend is strong within him .
+
+Ay me ! poor man , how pale and wan he looks !
+
+
+What , will you murder me ? Thou gaoler , thou ,
+I am thy prisoner : wilt thou suffer them
+To make a rescue ?
+
+Masters , let him go :
+He is my prisoner , and you shall not have him .
+
+Go bind this man , for he is frantic too .
+
+
+What wilt thou do , thou peevish officer ?
+Hast thou delight to see a wretched man
+Do outrage and displeasure to himself ?
+
+He is my prisoner : if I let him go ,
+The debt he owes will be requir'd of me .
+
+I will discharge thee ere I go from thee :
+Bear me forthwith unto his creditor ,
+And , knowing how the debt grows , I will pay it .
+Good Master doctor , see him safe convey'd
+Home to my house . O most unhappy day !
+
+O most unhappy strumpet !
+
+Master , I am here enter'd in bond for you .
+
+Out on thee , villain ! wherefore dost thou mad me ?
+
+Will you be bound for nothing ? be mad , good master ; cry , 'the devil !'
+
+God help , poor souls ! how idly do they talk .
+
+Go bear him hence . Sister , go you with me .
+
+Say now , whose suit is he arrested at ?
+
+One Angelo , a goldsmith ; do you know him ?
+
+I know the man . What is the sum he owes ?
+
+Two hundred ducats .
+
+Say , how grows it due ?
+
+Due for a chain your husband had of him .
+
+He did bespeak a chain for me , but had it not .
+
+When as your husband all in rage , to-day
+Came to my house , and took away my ring ,
+The ring I saw upon his finger now ,
+Straight after did I meet him with a chain .
+
+It may be so , but I did never see it .
+Come , gaoler , bring me where the goldsmith is :
+I long to know the truth hereof at large .
+
+
+God , for thy mercy ! they are loose again .
+
+And come with naked swords . Let's call more help
+To have them bound again .
+
+Away ! they'll kill us .
+
+
+I see , these witches are afraid of swords .
+
+She that would be your wife now ran from you .
+
+Come to the Centaur ; fetch our stuff from thence :
+I long that we were safe and sound aboard .
+
+Faith , stay here this night , they will surely do us no harm ; you saw they speak us fair , give us gold : methinks they are such a gentle nation , that , but for the mountain of mad flesh that claims marriage of me , I could find in my heart to stay here still , and turn witch .
+
+I will not stay to-night for all the town ;
+Therefore away , to get our stuff aboard .
+
+I am sorry , sir , that I have hinder'd you ;
+But , I protest , he had the chain of me ,
+Though most dishonestly he doth deny it .
+
+How is the man esteem'd here in the city ?
+
+Of very reverend reputation , sir ,
+Of credit infinite , highly belov'd ,
+Second to none that lives here in the city :
+His word might bear my wealth at any time .
+
+Speak softly : yonder , as I think , he walks .
+
+
+'Tis so ; and that self chain about his neck
+Which he forswore most monstrously to have .
+Good sir , draw near to me , I'll speak to him .
+Signior Antipholus , I wonder much
+That you would put me to this shame and trouble ;
+And not without some scandal to yourself ,
+With circumstance and oaths so to deny
+This chain which now you wear so openly :
+Beside the charge , the shame , imprisonment ,
+You have done wrong to this my honest friend ,
+Who , but for staying on our controversy ,
+Had hoisted sail and put to sea to-day .
+This chain you had of me ; can you deny it ?
+
+I think I had : I never did deny it .
+
+Yes , that you did , sir , and forswore it too .
+
+Who heard me to deny it or forswear it ?
+
+These ears of mine , thou know'st , did hear thee .
+Fie on thee , wretch ! 'tis pity that thou liv'st
+To walk where any honest men resort .
+
+Thou art a villain to impeach me thus :
+I'll prove mine honour and mine honesty
+Against thee presently , if thou dar'st stand .
+
+I dare , and do defy thee for a villain .
+
+Hold ! hurt him not , for God's sake ! he is mad .
+Some get within him , take his sword away .
+Bind Dromio too , and bear them to my house .
+
+Run , master , run ; for God's sake , take a house !
+This is some priory : in , or we are spoil'd .
+
+Be quiet , people . Wherefore throng you hither ?
+
+To fetch my poor distracted husband hence .
+Let us come in , that we may bind him fast ,
+And bear him home for his recovery .
+
+I knew he was not in his perfect wits .
+
+I am sorry now that I did draw on him .
+
+How long hath this possession held the man ?
+
+This week he hath been heavy , sour , sad ,
+And much different from the man he was ;
+But , till this afternoon his passion
+Ne'er brake into extremity of rage .
+
+Hath he not lost much wealth by wrack of sea ?
+Buried some dear friend ? Hath not else his eye
+Stray'd his affection in unlawful love ?
+A sin prevailing much in youthful men ,
+Who give their eyes the liberty of gazing .
+Which of these sorrows is he subject to ?
+
+To none of these , except it be the last ;
+Namely , some love that drew him oft from home .
+
+You should for that have reprehended him .
+
+Why , so I did .
+
+Ay , but not rough enough .
+
+As roughly as my modesty would let me .
+
+Haply , in private .
+
+And in assemblies too .
+
+Ay , but not enough .
+
+It was the copy of our conference :
+In bed , he slept not for my urging it ;
+At board , he fed not for my urging it ;
+Alone , it was the subject of my theme ;
+In company I often glanced it :
+Still did I tell him it was vile and bad .
+
+And thereof came it that the man was mad :
+The venom clamours of a jealous woman
+Poison more deadly than a mad dog's tooth .
+It seems , his sleeps were hinder'd by thy railing ,
+And thereof comes it that his head is light .
+Thou say'st his meat was sauc'd with thy upbraidings :
+Unquiet meals make ill digestions ;
+Thereof the raging fire of fever bred :
+And what's a fever but a fit of madness ?
+Thou say'st his sports were hinder'd by thy brawls :
+Sweet recreation barr'd , what doth ensue
+But moody moping , and dull melancholy ,
+Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair ,
+And at her heels a huge infectious troop
+Of pale distemperatures and foes to life ?
+In food , in sport , and life-preserving rest
+To be disturb'd , would mad or man or beast :
+The consequence is then , thy jealous fits
+Have scar'd thy husband from the use of wits .
+
+She never reprehended him but mildly
+When he demean'd himself rough , rude , and wildly .
+Why bear you these rebukes and answer not ?
+
+She did betray me to my own reproof .
+Good people , enter , and lay hold on him .
+
+No ; not a creature enters in my house .
+
+Then , let your servants bring my husband forth .
+
+Neither : he took this place for sanctuary ,
+And it shall privilege him from your hands
+Till I have brought him to his wits again ,
+Or lose my labour in assaying it .
+
+I will attend my husband , be his nurse ,
+Diet his sickness , for it is my office ,
+And will have no attorney but myself ;
+And therefore let me have him home with me .
+
+Be patient ; for I will not let him stir
+Till I have us'd the approved means I have ,
+With wholesome syrups , drugs , and holy prayers ,
+To make of him a formal man again .
+It is a branch and parcel of mine oath ,
+A charitable duty of my order ;
+Therefore depart and leave him here with me .
+
+I will not hence and leave my husband here ;
+And ill it doth beseem your holiness
+To separate the husband and the wife .
+
+Be quiet , and depart : thou shalt not have him .
+
+
+Complain unto the duke of this indignity .
+
+Come , go : I will fall prostrate at his feet ,
+And never rise until my tears and prayers
+Have won his Grace to come in person hither ,
+And take perforce my husband from the abbess .
+
+By this , I think , the dial points at five :
+Anon , I'm sure , the duke himself in person
+Comes this way to the melancholy vale ,
+The place of death and sorry execution ,
+Behind the ditches of the abbey here .
+
+Upon what cause ?
+
+To see a reverend Syracusian merchant ,
+Who put unluckily into this bay
+Against the laws and statutes of this town ,
+Beheaded publicly for his offence .
+
+See where they come : we will behold his death .
+
+Kneel to the duke before he pass the abbey .
+
+
+Yet once again proclaim it publicly ,
+If any friend will pay the sum for him ,
+He shall not die ; so much we tender him .
+
+Justice , most sacred duke , against the abbess !
+
+She is a virtuous and a reverend lady :
+It cannot be that she hath done thee wrong .
+
+May it please your Grace , Antipholus , my husband ,
+Whom I made lord of me and all I had ,
+At your important letters , this ill day
+A most outrageous fit of madness took him ,
+That desperately he hurried through the street ,
+With him his bondman , all as mad as he ,
+Doing displeasure to the citizens
+By rushing in their houses , bearing thence
+Rings , jewels , anything his rage did like .
+Once did I get him bound and sent him home ,
+Whilst to take order for the wrongs I went
+That here and there his fury had committed .
+Anon , I wot not by what strong escape ,
+He broke from those that had the guard of him ,
+And with his mad attendant and himself ,
+Each one with ireful passion , with drawn swords
+Met us again , and , madly bent on us
+Chas'd us away , till , raising of more aid
+We came again to bind them . Then they fled
+Into this abbey , whither we pursu'd them ;
+And here the abbess shuts the gates on us ,
+And will not suffer us to fetch him out ,
+Nor send him forth that we may bear him hence .
+Therefore , most gracious duke , with thy command
+Let him be brought forth , and borne hence for help .
+
+Long since thy husband serv'd me in my wars ,
+And I to thee engag'd a prince's word ,
+When thou didst make him master of thy bed ,
+To do him all the grace and good I could .
+Go , some of you , knock at the abbey gate
+And bid the lady abbess come to me .
+I will determine this before I stir .
+
+
+O mistress , mistress ! shift and save yourself !
+My master and his man are both broke loose ,
+Beaten the maids a-row and bound the doctor ,
+Whose beard they have sing'd off with brands of fire ;
+And ever as it blaz'd they threw on him
+Great pails of puddled mire to quench the hair .
+My master preaches patience to him , and the while
+His man with scissors nicks him like a fool ;
+And sure , unless you send some present help ,
+Between them they will kill the conjurer .
+
+Peace , fool ! thy master and his man are here ,
+And that is false thou dost report to us .
+
+Mistress , upon my life , I tell you true ;
+I have not breath'd almost , since I did see it .
+He cries for you and vows , if he can take you ,
+To scotch your face , and to disfigure you .
+
+Hark , hark ! I hear him , mistress : fly , be gone !
+
+Come , stand by me ; fear nothing . Guard with halberds !
+
+Ay me , it is my husband ! Witness you ,
+That he is borne about invisible :
+Even now we hous'd him in the abbey here ,
+And now he's here , past thought of human reason .
+
+
+Justice , most gracious duke ! O ! grant me justice ,
+Even for the service that long since I did thee ,
+When I bestrid thee in the wars and took
+Deep scars to save thy life ; even for the blood
+That then I lost for thee , now grant me justice .
+
+Unless the fear of death doth make me dote ,
+I see my son Antipholus and Dromio !
+
+Justice , sweet prince , against that woman there !
+She whom thou gav'st to me to be my wife ,
+That hath abused and dishonour'd me ,
+Even in the strength and height of injury !
+Beyond imagination is the wrong
+That she this day hath shameless thrown on me .
+
+Discover how , and thou shalt find me just .
+
+This day , great duke , she shut the doors upon me ,
+While she with harlots feasted in my house .
+
+A grievous fault ! Say , woman , didst thou so ?
+
+No , my good lord : myself , he , and my sister
+To-day did dine together . So befall my soul
+As this is false he burdens me withal !
+
+Ne'er may I look on day , nor sleep on night ,
+But she tells to your highness simple truth !
+
+O perjur'd woman ! They are both forsworn :
+In this the madman justly chargeth them !
+
+My liege , I am advised what I say :
+Neither disturb'd with the effect of wine ,
+Nor heady-rash , provok'd with raging ire ,
+Albeit my wrongs might make one wiser mad .
+This woman lock'd me out this day from dinner :
+That goldsmith there , were he not pack'd with her ,
+Could witness it , for he was with me then ;
+Who parted with me to go fetch a chain ,
+Promising to bring it to the Porpentine ,
+Where Balthazar and I did dine together .
+Our dinner done , and he not coming thither ,
+I went to seek him : in the street I met him ,
+And in his company that gentleman .
+There did this perjur'd goldsmith swear me down
+That I this day of him receiv'd the chain ,
+Which , God he knows , I saw not ; for the which
+He did arrest me with an officer .
+I did obey , and sent my peasant home
+For certain ducats : he with none return'd .
+Then fairly I bespoke the officer
+To go in person with me to my house .
+By the way we met
+My wife , her sister , and a rabble more
+Of vile confederates : along with them
+They brought one Pinch , a hungry lean-fac'd villain ,
+A mere anatomy , a mountebank ,
+A threadbare juggler , and a fortune-teller ,
+A needy , hollow-ey'd , sharp-looking wretch ,
+A living-dead man . This pernicious slave ,
+Forsooth , took on him as a conjurer ,
+And , gazing in mine eyes , feeling my pulse ,
+And with no face , as 'twere , out-facing me ,
+Cries out , I was possess'd . Then , altogether
+They fell upon me , bound me , bore me thence ,
+And in a dark and dankish vault at home
+There left me and my man , both bound together ;
+Till , gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder ,
+I gain'd my freedom , and immediately
+Ran hither to your Grace ; whom I beseech
+To give me ample satisfaction
+For these deep shames and great indignities .
+
+My lord , in truth , thus far I witness with him ,
+That he din'd not at home , but was lock'd out .
+
+But had he such a chain of thee , or no ?
+
+He had , my lord ; and when he ran in here ,
+These people saw the chain about his neck .
+
+Besides , I will be sworn these ears of mine
+Heard you confess you had the chain of him
+After you first forswore it on the mart ;
+And thereupon I drew my sword on you ;
+And then you fled into this abbey here ,
+From whence , I think , you are come by miracle .
+
+I never came within these abbey walls ;
+Nor ever didst thou draw thy sword on me ;
+I never saw the chain , so help me heaven !
+And this is false you burden me withal .
+
+Why , what an intricate impeach is this !
+I think you all have drunk of Circe's cup .
+If here you hous'd him , here he would have been ;
+If he were mad , he would not plead so coldly ;
+You say he din'd at home ; the goldsmith here
+Denies that saying . Sirrah , what say you ?
+
+Sir , he din'd with her there , at the Porpentine .
+
+He did , and from my finger snatch'd that ring .
+
+'Tis true , my liege ; this ring I had of her .
+
+Saw'st thou him enter at the abbey here ?
+
+As sure , my liege , as I do see your Grace .
+
+Why , this is strange . Go call the abbess hither .
+
+I think you are all mated or stark mad .
+
+Most mighty duke , vouchsafe me speak a word :
+Haply I see a friend will save my life ,
+And pay the sum that may deliver me .
+
+Speak freely , Syracusian , what thou wilt .
+
+Is not your name , sir , called Antipholus ?
+And is not that your bondman Dromio ?
+
+Within this hour I was his bondman , sir ;
+But he , I thank him , gnaw'd in two my cords :
+Now am I Dromio and his man , unbound .
+
+I am sure you both of you remember me .
+
+Ourselves we do remember , sir , by you ;
+For lately we were bound , as you are now .
+You are not Pinch's patient , are you , sir ?
+
+Why look you strange on me ? you know me well .
+
+I never saw you in my life till now .
+
+O ! grief hath chang'd me since you saw me last ,
+And careful hours , with Time's deformed hand ,
+Have written strange defeatures in my face :
+But tell me yet , dost thou not know my voice ?
+
+Neither .
+
+Dromio , nor thou ?
+
+No , trust me , sir , not I .
+
+I am sure thou dost .
+
+Ay , sir ; but I am sure I do not ; and whatsoever a man denies , you are now bound to believe him .
+
+Not know my voice ! O , time's extremity ,
+Hast thou so crack'd and splitted my poor tongue
+In seven short years , that here my only son
+Knows not my feeble key of untun'd cares ?
+Though now this grained face of mine be hid
+In sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow ,
+And all the conduits of my blood froze up ,
+Yet hath my night of life some memory ,
+My wasting lamps some fading glimmer left ,
+My dull deaf ears a little use to hear :
+All these old witnesses , I cannot err ,
+Tell me thou art my son Antipholus .
+
+I never saw my father in my life .
+
+But seven years since , in Syracusa , boy ,
+Thou know'st we parted : but perhaps , my son ,
+Thou sham'st to acknowledge me in misery .
+
+The duke and all that know me in the city
+Can witness with me that it is not so :
+I ne'er saw Syracusa in my life .
+
+I tell thee , Syracusian , twenty years
+Have I been patron to Antipholus ,
+During which time he ne'er saw Syracusa .
+I see thy age and dangers make thee dote .
+
+
+Most mighty duke , behold a man much wrong'd .
+
+
+I see two husbands , or mine eyes deceive me !
+
+One of these men is Genius to the other ;
+And so of these : which is the natural man ,
+And which the spirit ? Who deciphers them ?
+
+I , sir , am Dromio : command him away .
+
+I , sir , am Dromio : pray let me stay .
+
+geon art thou not ? or else his ghost ?
+
+O ! my old master ; who hath bound him here ?
+
+Whoever bound him , I will loose his bonds ,
+And gain a husband by his liberty .
+Speak , old geon , if thou be'st the man
+That hadst a wife once call'd milia ,
+That bore thee at a burden two fair sons .
+O ! if thou be'st the same geon , speak ,
+And speak unto the same milia !
+
+If I dream not , thou art milia :
+If thou art she , tell me where is that son
+That floated with thee on the fatal raft ?
+
+By men of Epidamnum , he and I ,
+And the twin Dromio , all were taken up :
+But by and by rude fishermen of Corinth
+By force took Dromio and my son from them ,
+And me they left with those of Epidamnum .
+What then became of them , I cannot tell ;
+I to this fortune that you see me in .
+
+Why , here begins his morning story right :
+These two Antipholus' , these two so like ,
+And these two Dromios , one in semblance ,
+Besides her urging of her wrack at sea ;
+These are the parents to these children ,
+Which accidentally are met together .
+Antipholus , thou cam'st from Corinth first ?
+
+No , sir , not I ; I came from Syracuse .
+
+Stay , stand apart ; I know not which is which .
+
+I came from Corinth , my most gracious lord ,
+
+And I with him .
+
+Brought to this town by that most famous warrior ,
+Duke Menaphon , your most renowned uncle .
+
+Which of you two did dine with me to-day ?
+
+I , gentle mistress .
+
+And are not you my husband ?
+
+No ; I say nay to that .
+
+And so do I ; yet did she call me so ;
+And this fair gentlewoman , her sister here ,
+Did call me brother .
+
+What I told you then ,
+I hope I shall have leisure to make good ,
+If this be not a dream I see and hear .
+
+That is the chain , sir , which you had of me .
+
+I think it be , sir ; I deny it not .
+
+And you , sir , for this chain arrested me .
+
+I think I did , sir ; I deny it not .
+
+I sent you money , sir , to be your bail ,
+By Dromio ; but I think he brought it not .
+
+No , none by me .
+
+This purse of ducats I receiv'd from you ,
+And Dromio , my man , did bring them me .
+I see we still did meet each other's man ,
+And I was ta'en for him , and he for me ,
+And thereupon these errors are arose .
+
+These ducats pawn I for my father here .
+
+It shall not need : thy father hath his life .
+
+Sir , I must have that diamond from you .
+
+There , take it ; and much thanks for my good cheer .
+
+Renowned duke , vouchsafe to take the pains
+To go with us into the abbey here ,
+And hear at large discoursed all our fortunes ;
+And all that are assembled in this place ,
+That by this sympathized one day's error
+Have suffer'd wrong , go keep us company ,
+And we shall make full satisfaction .
+Thirty-three years have I but gone in travail
+Of you , my sons ; and , till this present hour
+My heavy burdens ne'er delivered .
+The duke , my husband , and my children both ,
+And you the calendars of their nativity ,
+Go to a gossip's feast , and joy with me :
+After so long grief such festivity !
+
+With all my heart I'll gossip at this feast .
+
+
+Master , shall I fetch your stuff from shipboard ?
+
+Dromio , what stuff of mine hast thou embark'd ?
+
+Your goods that lay at host , sir , in the Centaur .
+
+He speaks to me . I am your master , Dromio :
+Come , go with us ; we'll look to that anon :
+Embrace thy brother there ; rejoice with him .
+
+
+There is a fat friend at your master's house ,
+That kitchen'd me for you to-day at dinner :
+She now shall be my sister , not my wife .
+
+Methinks you are my glass , and not my brother :
+I see by you I am a sweet-fac'd youth .
+Will you walk in to see their gossiping ?
+
+Not I , sir ; you are my elder .
+
+That's a question : how shall we try it ?
+
+We'll draw cuts for the senior : till then lead thou first .
+
+Nay , then , thus :
+We came into the world like brother and brother ;
+And now let's go hand in hand , not one before another .
+
+THE MERCHANT OF VENICE
+
+
+In sooth , I know not why I am so sad :
+It wearies me ; you say it wearies you ;
+But how I caught it , found it , or came by it ,
+What stuff 'tis made of , whereof it is born ,
+I am to learn ;
+And such a want-wit sadness makes of me ,
+That I have much ado to know myself .
+
+Your mind is tossing on the ocean ;
+There , where your argosies with portly sail ,
+Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood ,
+Or , as it were , the pageants of the sea ,
+Do overpeer the petty traffickers ,
+That curtsy to them , do them reverence ,
+As they fly by them with their woven wings .
+
+Believe me , sir , had I such venture forth ,
+The better part of my affections would
+Be with my hopes abroad . I should be still
+Plucking the grass to know where sits the wind ;
+Peering in maps for ports , and piers , and roads ;
+And every object that might make me fear
+Misfortune to my ventures , out of doubt
+Would make me sad .
+
+My wind , cooling my broth ,
+Would blow me to an ague , when I thought
+What harm a wind too great might do at sea .
+I should not see the sandy hour-glass run
+But I should think of shallows and of flats ,
+And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand
+Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs
+To kiss her burial . Should I go to church
+And see the holy edifice of stone ,
+And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks ,
+Which touching but my gentle vessel's side
+Would scatter all her spices on the stream ,
+Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks ;
+And , in a word , but even now worth this ,
+And now worth nothing ? Shall I have the thought
+To think on this , and shall I lack the thought
+That such a thing bechanc'd would make me sad ?
+But tell not me : I know Antonio
+Is sad to think upon his merchandise .
+
+Believe me , no : I thank my fortune for it ,
+My ventures are not in one bottom trusted ,
+Nor to one place ; nor is my whole estate
+Upon the fortune of this present year :
+Therefore , my merchandise makes me not sad .
+
+Why , then you are in love .
+
+Fie , fie !
+
+Not in love neither ? Then let's say you are sad ,
+Because you are not merry : and 'twere as easy
+For you to laugh and leap , and say you are merry ,
+Because you are not sad . Now , by two-headed Janus ,
+Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in her time :
+Some that will evermore peep through their eyes
+And laugh like parrots at a bag-piper ,
+And other of such vinegar aspect
+That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile ,
+Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable .
+
+
+Here comes Bassanio , your most noble kinsman ,
+Gratiano , and Lorenzo . Fare ye well :
+We leave you now with better company .
+
+I would have stay'd till I had made you merry ,
+If worthier friends had not prevented me .
+
+Your worth is very dear in my regard .
+I take it , your own business calls on you ,
+And you embrace the occasion to depart .
+
+Good morrow , my good lords .
+
+Good signiors both , when shall we laugh ? say when ?
+You grow exceeding strange : must it be so ?
+
+We'll make our leisures to attend on yours .
+
+
+My Lord Bassanio , since you have found Antonio ,
+We too will leave you ; but , at dinner-time ,
+I pray you , have in mind where we must meet .
+
+I will not fail you .
+
+You look not well , Signior Antonio ;
+You have too much respect upon the world :
+They lose it that do buy it with much care :
+Believe me , you are marvellously chang'd .
+
+I hold the world but as the world , Gratiano ;
+A stage where every man must play a part ,
+And mine a sad one .
+
+Let me play the fool :
+With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come ,
+And let my liver rather heat with wine
+Than my heart cool with mortifying groans .
+Why should a man , whose blood is warm within ,
+Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ?
+Sleep when he wakes , and creep into the jaundice
+By being peevish ? I tell thee what , Antonio
+I love thee , and it is my love that speaks
+There are a sort of men whose visages
+Do cream and mantle like a standing pond ,
+And do a wilful stillness entertain ,
+With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion
+Of wisdom , gravity , profound conceit ;
+As who should say , 'I am Sir Oracle ,
+And when I ope my lips let no dog bark !'
+O , my Antonio , I do know of these ,
+That therefore only are reputed wise
+For saying nothing ; when , I am very sure ,
+If they should speak , would almost damn those ears
+Which , hearing them , would call their brothers fools .
+I'll tell thee more of this another time :
+But fish not , with this melancholy bait ,
+For this fool-gudgeon , this opinion .
+Come , good Lorenzo . Fare ye well awhile :
+I'll end my exhortation after dinner .
+
+Well , we will leave you then till dinner-time .
+I must be one of these same dumb-wise men ,
+For Gratiano never lets me speak .
+
+Well , keep me company but two years moe ,
+Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue .
+
+Farewell : I'll grow a talker for this gear .
+
+Thanks , i' faith ; for silence is only commendable
+In a neat's tongue dried and a maid not vendible .
+
+
+Is that anything now ?
+
+Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing , more than any man in all Venice . His reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff : you shall seek all day ere you find them , and , when you have them , they are not worth the search .
+
+Well , tell me now , what lady is the same
+To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage ,
+That you to-day promis'd to tell me of ?
+
+'Tis not unknown to you , Antonio ,
+How much I have disabled mine estate ,
+By something showing a more swelling port
+Than my faint means would grant continuance :
+Nor do I now make moan to be abridg'd
+From such a noble rate ; but my chief care
+Is , to come fairly off from the great debts
+Wherein my time , something too prodigal ,
+Hath left me gag'd . To you , Antonio ,
+I owe the most , in money and in love ;
+And from your love I have a warranty
+To unburthen all my plots and purposes
+How to get clear of all the debts I owe .
+
+I pray you , good Bassanio , let me know it ;
+And if it stand , as you yourself still do ,
+Within the eye of honour , be assur'd ,
+My purse , my person , my extremest means ,
+Lie all unlock'd to your occasions .
+
+In my school-days , when I had lost one shaft ,
+I shot his fellow of the self-same flight
+The self-same way with more advised watch ,
+To find the other forth , and by adventuring both ,
+I oft found both . I urge this childhood proof ,
+Because what follows is pure innocence .
+I owe you much , and , like a wilful youth ,
+That which I owe is lost ; but if you please
+To shoot another arrow that self way
+Which you did shoot the first , I do not doubt ,
+As I will watch the aim , or to find both ,
+Or bring your latter hazard back again ,
+And thankfully rest debtor for the first .
+
+You know me well , and herein spend but time
+To wind about my love with circumstance ;
+And out of doubt you do me now more wrong
+In making question of my uttermost
+Than if you had made waste of all I have :
+Then do but say to me what I should do
+That in your knowledge may by me be done ,
+And I am prest unto it : therefore speak .
+
+In Belmont is a lady richly left ,
+And she is fair , and , fairer than that word ,
+Of wondrous virtues : sometimes from her eyes
+I did receive fair speechless messages :
+Her name is Portia ; nothing undervalu'd
+To Cato's daughter , Brutus' Portia :
+Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth ,
+For the four winds blow in from every coast
+Renowned suitors ; and her sunny locks
+Hang on her temples like a golden fleece ;
+Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos' strond ,
+And many Jasons come in quest of her .
+O my Antonio ! had I but the means
+To hold a rival place with one of them ,
+I have a mind presages me such thrift ,
+That I should questionless be fortunate .
+
+Thou knowest that all my fortunes are at sea ;
+Neither have I money , nor commodity
+To raise a present sum : therefore go forth ;
+Try what my credit can in Venice do :
+That shall be rack'd , even to the uttermost ,
+To furnish thee to Belmont , to fair Portia .
+Go , presently inquire , and so will I ,
+Where money is , and I no question make
+To have it of my trust or for my sake .
+
+
+By my troth , Nerissa , my little body is aweary of this great world .
+
+You would be , sweet madam , if your miseries were in the same abundance as your good fortunes are : and yet , for aught I see , they are as sick that surfeit with too much as they that starve with nothing . It is no mean happiness therefore , to be seated in the mean : superfluity comes sooner by white hairs , but competency lives longer .
+
+Good sentences and well pronounced .
+
+They would be better if well followed .
+
+If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do , chapels had been churches , and poor men's cottages princes' palaces . It is a good divine that follows his own instructions : I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done , than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching . The brain may devise laws for the blood , but a hot temper leaps o'er a cold decree : such a hare is madness the youth , to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel the cripple . But this reasoning is not in the fashion to choose me a husband . O me , the word 'choose !' I may neither choose whom I would nor refuse whom I dislike ; so is the will of a living daughter curbed by the will of a dead father . Is it not hard , Nerissa , that I cannot choose one nor refuse none ?
+
+Your father was ever virtuous , and holy men at their death have good inspirations ; therefore , the lottery that he hath devised in these three chests of gold , silver , and lead , whereof who chooses his meaning chooses you , will , no doubt , never be chosen by any rightly but one who you shall rightly love . But what warmth is there in your affection towards any of these princely suitors that are already come ?
+
+I pray thee , over-name them , and as thou namest them , I will describe them ; and , according to my description , level at my affection .
+
+First , there is the Neapolitan prince .
+
+Ay , that's a colt indeed , for he doth nothing but talk of his horse ; and he makes it a great appropriation to his own good parts that he can shoe him himself . I am much afeard my lady his mother played false with a smith .
+
+Then is there the County Palatine .
+
+He doth nothing but frown , as who should say , 'An you will not have me , choose .' He hears merry tales , and smiles not : I fear he will prove the weeping philosopher when he grows old , being so full of unmannerly sadness in his youth . I had rather be married to a death's-head with a bone in his mouth than to either of these . God defend me from these two !
+
+How say you by the French lord , Monsieur Le Bon ?
+
+God made him , and therefore let him pass for a man . In truth , I know it is a sin to be a mocker ; but , he ! why , he hath a horse better than the Neapolitan's , a better bad habit of frowning than the Count Palatine ; he is every man in no man ; if a throstle sing , he falls straight a-capering ; he will fence with his own shadow : if I should marry him , I should marry twenty husbands . If he would despise me , I would forgive him , for if he love me to madness , I shall never requite him .
+
+What say you , then , to Falconbridge , the young baron of England ?
+
+You know I say nothing to him , for he understands not me , nor I him : he hath neither Latin , French , nor Italian ; and you will come into the court and swear that I have a poor pennyworth in the English . He is a proper man's picture , but , alas ! who can converse with a dumb-show ? How oddly he is suited ! I think he bought his doublet in Italy , his round hose in France , his bonnet in Germany , and his behaviour every where .
+
+What think you of the Scottish lord , his neighbour ?
+
+That he hath a neighbourly charity in him , for he borrowed a box of the ear of the Englishman , and swore he would pay him again when he was able : I think the Frenchman became his surety and sealed under for another .
+
+How like you the young German , the Duke of Saxony's nephew ?
+
+Very vilely in the morning , when he is sober , and most vilely in the afternoon , when he is drunk : when he is best , he is a little worse than a man , and when he is worst , he is little better than a beast . An the worst fall that ever fell , I hope I shall make shift to go without him .
+
+If he should offer to choose , and choose the right casket , you should refuse to perform your father's will , if you should refuse to accept him .
+
+Therefore , for fear of the worst , I pray thee , set a deep glass of Rhenish wine on the contrary casket , for , if the devil be within and that temptation without , I know he will choose it . I will do anything , Nerissa , ere I will be married to a sponge .
+
+You need not fear , lady , the having any of these lords : they have acquainted me with their determinations ; which is , indeed , to return to their home and to trouble you with no more suit , unless you may be won by some other sort than your father's imposition depending on the caskets .
+
+If I live to be as old as Sibylla , I will die as chaste as Diana , unless I be obtained by the manner of my father's will . I am glad this parcel of wooers are so reasonable , for there is not one among them but I dote on his very absence , and I pray God grant them a fair departure .
+
+Do you not remember , lady , in your father's time , a Venetian , a scholar and a soldier , that came hither in the company of the Marquis of Montferrat ?
+
+Yes , yes : it was Bassanio ; as I think , he was so called .
+
+True , madam : he , of all the men that ever my foolish eyes looked upon , was the best deserving a fair lady .
+
+I remember him well , and I remember him worthy of thy praise .
+
+How now ! what news ?
+
+The four strangers seek for you , madam , to take their leave ; and there is a forerunner come from a fifth , the Prince of Morocco , who brings word the prince his master will be here to-night .
+
+If I could bid the fifth welcome with so good heart as I can bid the other four farewell , I should be glad of his approach : if he have the condition of a saint and the complexion of a devil , I had rather he should shrive me than wive me . Come , Nerissa . Sirrah , go before .
+Whiles we shut the gate upon one wooer , another knocks at the door .
+
+
+Three thousand ducats ; well ?
+
+Ay , sir , for three months .
+
+For three months ; well ?
+
+For the which , as I told you , Antonio shall be bound .
+
+Antonio shall become bound ; well ?
+
+May you stead me ? Will you pleasure me ? Shall I know your answer ?
+
+Three thousand ducats , for three months , and Antonio bound .
+
+Your answer to that .
+
+Antonio is a good man .
+
+Have you heard any imputation to the contrary ?
+
+Ho , no , no , no , no : my meaning in saying he is a good man is to have you understand me that he is sufficient . Yet his means are in supposition : he hath an argosy bound to Tripolis , another to the Indies ; I understand moreover upon the Rialto , he hath a third at Mexico , a fourth for England , and other ventures he hath , squandered abroad . But ships are but boards , sailors but men : there be land-rats and water-rats , land-thieves , and water-thieves ,I mean pirates ,and then there is the peril of waters , winds , and rocks . The man is , notwithstanding , sufficient . Three thousand ducats ; I think , I may take his bond .
+
+Be assured you may .
+
+I will be assured I may ; and , that I may be assured , I will bethink me . May I speak with Antonio ?
+
+If it please you to dine with us .
+
+Yes , to smell pork : to eat of the habitation which your prophet the Nazarite conjured the devil into . I will buy with you , sell with you , talk with you , walk with you , and so following ; but I will not eat with you , drink with you , nor pray with you . What news on the Rialto ? Who is he comes here ?
+
+
+This is Signior Antonio .
+
+How like a fawning publican he looks !
+I hate him for he is a Christian ;
+But more for that in low simplicity
+He lends out money gratis , and brings down
+The rate of usance here with us in Venice .
+If I can catch him once upon the hip ,
+I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him .
+He hates our sacred nation , and he rails ,
+Even there where merchants most do congregate ,
+On me , my bargains , and my well-won thrift ,
+Which he calls interest . Cursed be my tribe ,
+If I forgive him !
+
+Shylock , do you hear ?
+
+I am debating of my present store ,
+And , by the near guess of my memory ,
+I cannot instantly raise up the gross
+Of full three thousand ducats . What of that ?
+Tubal , a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe ,
+Will furnish me . But soft ! how many months
+Do you desire ?
+
+Rest you fair , good signior ;
+Your worship was the last man in our mouths .
+
+Shylock , albeit I neither lend nor borrow
+By taking nor by giving of excess ,
+Yet , to supply the ripe wants of my friend ,
+I'll break a custom .
+
+Is he yet possess'd
+How much ye would ?
+
+Ay , ay , three thousand ducats .
+
+And for three months .
+
+I had forgot ; three months ; you told me so .
+Well then , your bond ; and let me see . But hear you ;
+Methought you said you neither lend nor borrow
+Upon advantage .
+
+I do never use it .
+
+When Jacob graz'd his uncle Laban's sheep ,
+This Jacob from our holy Abram was ,
+As his wise mother wrought in his behalf ,
+The third possessor : ay , he was the third ,
+
+And what of him ? did he take interest ?
+
+No ; not take interest ; not , as you would say ,
+Directly interest : mark what Jacob did .
+When Laban and himself were compromis'd ,
+That all the eanlings that were streak'd and pied
+Should fall as Jacob's hire , the ewes , being rank ,
+In end of autumn turned to the rams ;
+And , when the work of generation was
+Between these woolly breeders in the act ,
+The skilful shepherd peel'd me certain wands ,
+And , in the doing of the deed of kind ,
+He stuck them up before the fulsome ewes ,
+Who , then conceiving , did in eaning time
+Fall parti-colour'd lambs , and those were Jacob's .
+This was a way to thrive , and he was blest :
+And thrift is blessing , if men steal it not .
+
+This was a venture , sir , that Jacob serv'd for ;
+A thing not in his power to bring to pass ,
+But sway'd and fashion'd by the hand of heaven .
+Was this inserted to make interest good ?
+Or is your gold and silver ewes and rams ?
+
+I cannot tell ; I make it breed as fast : But note me , signior .
+
+Mark you this , Bassanio ,
+The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose .
+An evil soul , producing holy witness ,
+Is like a villain with a smiling cheek ,
+A goodly apple rotten at the heart .
+O , what a goodly outside falsehood hath !
+
+Three thousand ducats ; 'tis a good round sum .
+Three months from twelve , then let me see the rate .
+
+Well , Shylock , shall we be beholding to you ?
+
+Signior Antonio , many a time and oft
+In the Rialto you have rated me
+About my moneys and my usances :
+Still have I borne it with a patient shrug ,
+For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe .
+You call me misbeliever , cut-throat dog ,
+And spet upon my Jewish gaberdine ,
+And all for use of that which is mine own .
+Well then , it now appears you need my help :
+Go to then ; you come to me , and you say ,
+'Shylock , we would have moneys :' you say so ;
+You , that did void your rheum upon my beard ,
+And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur
+Over your threshold : moneys is your suit .
+What should I say to you ? Should I not say ,
+'Hath a dog money ? Is it possible
+A cur can lend three thousand ducats ?' or
+Shall I bend low , and in a bondman's key ,
+With bated breath , and whispering humbleness ,
+Say this :
+'Fair sir , you spet on me on Wednesday last ;
+You spurn'd me such a day ; another time
+You call'd me dog ; and for these courtesies
+I'll lend you thus much moneys ?'
+
+I am as like to call thee so again ,
+To spet on thee again , to spurn thee too .
+If thou wilt lend this money , lend it not
+As to thy friends ,for when did friendship take
+A breed for barren metal of his friend ?
+But lend it rather to thine enemy ;
+Who if he break , thou mayst with better face
+Exact the penalty .
+
+Why , look you , how you storm !
+I would be friends with you , and have your love ,
+Forget the shames that you have stain'd me with ,
+Supply your present wants , and take no doit
+Of usance for my moneys , and you'll not hear me :
+This is kind I offer .
+
+This were kindness .
+
+This kindness will I show .
+Go with me to a notary , seal me there
+Your single bond ; and , in a merry sport ,
+If you repay me not on such a day ,
+In such a place , such sum or sums as are
+Express'd in the condition , let the forfeit
+Be nominated for an equal pound
+Of your fair flesh , to be cut off and taken
+In what part of your body pleaseth me .
+
+Content , i' faith : I'll seal to such a bond ,
+And say there is much kindness in the Jew .
+
+You shall not seal to such a bond for me :
+I'll rather dwell in my necessity .
+
+Why , fear not , man ; I will not forfeit it :
+Within these two months , that's a month before
+This bond expires , I do expect return
+Of thrice three times the value of this bond .
+
+O father Abram ! what these Christians are ,
+Whose own hard dealing teaches them suspect
+The thoughts of others . Pray you , tell me this ;
+If he should break his day , what should I gain
+By the exaction of the forfeiture ?
+A pound of man's flesh , taken from a man ,
+Is not so estimable , profitable neither ,
+As flesh of muttons , beefs , or goats . I say ,
+To buy his favour , I extend this friendship :
+If he will take it , so ; if not , adieu ;
+And , for my love , I pray you wrong me not .
+
+Yes , Shylock , I will seal unto this bond .
+
+Then meet me forthwith at the notary's ;
+Give him direction for this merry bond ,
+And I will go and purse the ducats straight ,
+See to my house , left in the fearful guard
+Of an unthrifty knave , and presently
+I will be with you .
+
+Hie thee , gentle Jew .
+
+This Hebrew will turn Christian : he grows kind .
+
+I like not fair terms and a villain's mind .
+
+Come on : in this there can be no dismay ;
+My ships come home a month before the day .
+
+
+Mislike me not for my complexion ,
+The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd sun ,
+To whom I am a neighbour and near bred .
+Bring me the fairest creature northward born ,
+Where Ph bus' fire scarce thaws the icicles ,
+And let us make incision for your love ,
+To prove whose blood is reddest , his or mine .
+I tell thee , lady , this aspect of mine
+Hath fear'd the valiant : by my love , I swear
+The best regarded virgins of our clime
+Have lov'd it too : I would not change this hue ,
+Except to steal your thoughts , my gentle queen .
+
+In terms of choice I am not solely led
+By nice direction of a maiden's eyes ;
+Besides , the lottery of my destiny
+Bars me the right of voluntary choosing :
+But if my father had not scanted me
+And hedg'd me by his wit , to yield myself
+His wife who wins me by that means I told you ,
+Yourself , renowned prince , then stood as fair
+As any comer I have look'd on yet
+For my affection .
+
+Even for that I thank you :
+Therefore , I pray you , lead me to the caskets
+To try my fortune . By this scimitar ,
+That slew the Sophy , and a Persian prince
+That won three fields of Sultan Solyman ,
+I would outstare the sternest eyes that look ,
+Outbrave the heart most daring on the earth ,
+Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she-bear ,
+Yea , mock the lion when he roars for prey ,
+To win thee , lady . But , alas the while !
+If Hercules and Lichas play at dice
+Which is the better man , the greater throw
+May turn by fortune from the weaker hand :
+So is Alcides beaten by his page ;
+And so may I , blind fortune leading me ,
+Miss that which one unworthier may attain ,
+And die with grieving .
+
+You must take your chance ;
+And either not attempt to choose at all ,
+Or swear before you choose , if you choose wrong ,
+Never to speak to lady afterward
+In way of marriage : therefore be advis'd .
+
+Nor will not : come , bring me unto my chance .
+
+First , forward to the temple : after dinner
+Your hazard shall be made .
+
+Good fortune then !
+To make me blest or cursed'st among men !
+
+
+Certainly my conscience will serve me to run from this Jew my master . The fiend is at mine elbow , and tempts me , saying to me , 'Gobbo , Launcelot Gobbo , good Launcelot ,' or 'good Gobbo ,' or 'good Launcelot Gobbo , use your legs , take the start , run away .' My conscience says , 'No ; take heed , honest Launcelot ; take heed , honest Gobbo ;' or , as aforesaid , 'honest Launcelot Gobbo ; do not run ; scorn running with thy heels .' Well , the most courageous fiend bids me pack : 'Via !' says the fiend ; 'away !' says the fiend ; 'for the heavens , rouse up a brave mind ,' says the fiend , 'and run .' Well , my conscience , hanging about the neck of my heart , says very wisely to me , 'My honest friend Launcelot , being an honest man's son ,' or rather an honest woman's son ;for , indeed , my father did something smack , something grow to , he had a kind of taste ;well , my conscience says , 'Launcelot , budge not .' 'Budge ,' says the fiend . 'Budge not ,' says my conscience . 'Conscience ,' say I , 'you counsel well ;' 'fiend ,' say I , 'you counsel well :' to be ruled by my conscience , I should stay with the Jew my master , who , God bless the mark ! is a kind of devil ; and , to run away from the Jew , I should be ruled by the fiend , who , saving your reverence , is the devil himself . Certainly , the Jew is the very devil incarnal ; and , in my conscience , my conscience is but a kind of hard conscience , to offer to counsel me to stay with the Jew . The fiend gives the more friendly counsel : I will run , fiend ; my heels are at your commandment ; I will run .
+
+
+Master young man , you ; I pray you , which is the way to Master Jew's ?
+
+O heavens ! this is my truebegotten father , who , being more than sandblind , high-gravel blind , knows me not : I will try confusions with him .
+
+Master young gentleman , I pray you , which is the way to Master Jew's ?
+
+Turn up on your right hand at the next turning , but , at the next turning of all , on your left ; marry , at the very next turning , turn of no hand , but turn down indirectly to the Jew's house .
+
+By God's sonties , 'twill be a hard way to hit . Can you tell me whether one Launcelot , that dwells with him , dwell with him or no ?
+
+Talk you of young Master Launcelot ?
+
+Mark me now ; now will I raise the waters . Talk you of young Master Launcelot ?
+
+No master , sir , but a poor man's son : his father , though I say it , is an honest , exceeding poor man , and , God be thanked , well to live .
+
+Well , let his father be what a' will , we talk of young Master Launcelot .
+
+Your worship's friend , and Launcelot , sir .
+
+But I pray you , ergo , old man , ergo , I beseech you , talk you of young Master Launcelot ?
+
+Of Launcelot , an't please your mastership .
+
+Ergo , Master Launcelot . Talk not of Master Launcelot , father ; for the young gentleman ,according to Fates and Destinies and such odd sayings , the Sisters Three and such branches of learning ,is , indeed , deceased ; or , as you would say in plain terms , gone to heaven .
+
+Marry , God forbid ! the boy was the very staff of my age , my very prop .
+
+Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post , a staff or a prop ? Do you know me , father ?
+
+Alack the day ! I know you not , young gentleman : but I pray you , tell me , is my boy ,God rest his soul !alive or dead ?
+
+Do you not know me , father ?
+
+Alack , sir , I am sand-blind ; I know you not .
+
+Nay , indeed , if you had your eyes , you might fail of the knowing me : it is a wise father that knows his own child . Well , old man , I will tell you news of your son . Give me your blessing ; truth will come to light ; murder cannot be hid long ; a man's son may , but , in the end , truth will out .
+
+Pray you , sir , stand up . I am sure you are not Launcelot , my boy .
+
+Pray you , let's have no more fooling about it , but give me your blessing : I am Launcelot , your boy that was , your son that is , your child that shall be .
+
+I cannot think you are my son .
+
+I know not what I shall think of that ; but I am Launcelot , the Jew's man , and I am sure Margery your wife is my mother .
+
+Her name is Margery , indeed : I'll be sworn , if thou be Launcelot , thou art mine own flesh and blood . Lord worshipped might he be ! what a beard hast thou got ! thou hast got more hair on thy chin than Dobbin my thill-horse has on his tail .
+
+It should seem then that Dobbin's tail grows backward : I am sure he had more hair on his tail than I have on my face , when I last saw him .
+
+Lord ! how art thou changed . How dost thou and thy master agree ? I have brought him a present . How 'gree you now ?
+
+Well , well : but , for mine own part , as I have set up my rest to run away , so I will not rest till I have run some ground . My master's a very Jew : give him a present ! give him a halter : I am farnished in his service ; you may tell every finger I have with my ribs . Father , I am glad you are come : give me your present to one Master Bassanio , who , indeed , gives rare new liveries . If I serve not him , I will run as far as God has any ground . O rare fortune ! here comes the man : to him , father ; for I am a Jew , if I serve the Jew any longer .
+
+
+You may do so ; but let it be so hasted that supper be ready at the very furthest by five of the clock . See these letters delivered ; put the liveries to making ; and desire Gratiano to come anon to my lodging .
+
+
+To him , father .
+
+God bless your worship !
+
+Gramercy ! wouldst thou aught with me ?
+
+Here's my son , sir , a poor boy ,
+
+Not a poor boy , sir , but the rich Jew's man ; that would , sir ,as my father shall specify ,
+
+He hath a great infection , sir , as one would say , to serve
+
+Indeed , the short and the long is , I serve the Jew , and have a desire , as my father shall specify ,
+
+His master and he , saving your worship's reverence , are scarce cater-cousins ,
+
+To be brief , the very truth is that the Jew having done me wrong , doth cause me ,as my father , being , I hope , an old man , shall frutify unto you ,
+
+I have here a dish of doves that I would bestow upon your worship , and my suit is ,
+
+In very brief , the suit is impertinent to myself , as your worship shall know by this honest old man ; and , though I say it , though old man , yet poor man , my father .
+
+One speak for both . What would you ?
+
+Serve you , sir .
+
+That is the very defect of the matter , sir .
+
+I know thee well ; thou hast obtain'd thy suit :
+Shylock thy master spoke with me this day ,
+And hath preferr'd thee , if it be preferment
+To leave a rich Jew's service , to become
+The follower of so poor a gentleman .
+
+The old proverb is very well parted between my master Shylock and you , sir : you have the grace of God , sir , and he hath enough .
+
+Thou speak'st it well . Go , father , with thy son .
+Take leave of thy old master , and inquire
+My lodging out .
+
+Give him a livery
+More guarded than his fellows' : see it done .
+
+Father , in . I cannot get a service , no ; I have ne'er a tongue in my head . Well ,
+
+if any man in Italy have a fairer table which doth offer to swear upon a book , I shall have good fortune . Go to ; here's a simple line of life : here's a small trifle of wives : alas ! fifteen wives is nothing : a 'leven widows and nine maids is a simple coming-in for one man ; and then to 'scape drowning thrice , and to be in peril of my life with the edge of a feather-bed ; here are simple 'scapes . Well , if Fortune be a woman , she's a good wench for this gear . Father , come ; I'll take my leave of the Jew in the twinkling of an eye .
+
+
+I pray thee , good Leonardo , think on this :
+These things being bought , and orderly bestow'd ,
+Return in haste , for I do feast to-night
+My best-esteem'd acquaintance : hie thee , go .
+
+My best endeavours shall be done herein .
+
+
+Where is your master ?
+
+Yonder , sir , he walks .
+
+
+Signior Bassanio !
+
+Gratiano !
+
+I have a suit to you .
+
+You have obtain'd it .
+
+You must not deny me : I must go with you to Belmont .
+
+Why , then you must . But hear thee , Gratiano ;
+Thou art too wild , too rude and bold of voice ;
+Parts that become thee happily enough ,
+And in such eyes as ours appear not faults ;
+But where thou art not known , why , there they show
+Something too liberal . Pray thee , take pain
+To allay with some cold drops of modesty
+Thy skipping spirit , lest , through thy wild behaviour ,
+I be misconstru'd in the place I go to ,
+And lose my hopes .
+
+Signior Bassanio , hear me :
+If I do not put on a sober habit ,
+Talk with respect , and swear but now and then ,
+Wear prayer-books in my pocket , look demurely ,
+Nay more , while grace is saying , hood mine eyes
+Thus with my hat , and sigh , and say 'amen ;'
+Use all the observance of civility ,
+Like one well studied in a sad ostent
+To please his grandam , never trust me more .
+
+Well , we shall see your bearing .
+
+Nay , but I bar to-night ; you shall not gauge me
+By what we do to-night .
+
+No , that were pity :
+I would entreat you rather to put on
+Your boldest suit of mirth , for we have friends
+That purpose merriment . But fare you well :
+I have some business .
+
+And I must to Lorenzo and the rest ;
+But we will visit you at supper-time .
+
+
+I am sorry thou wilt leave my father so :
+Our house is hell , and thou , a merry devil ,
+Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness .
+But fare thee well ; there is a ducat for thee :
+And , Launcelot , soon at supper shalt thou see
+Lorenzo , who is thy new master's guest :
+Give him this letter ; do it secretly ;
+And so farewell : I would not have my father
+See me in talk with thee .
+
+Adieu ! tears exhibit my tongue . Most beautiful pagan , most sweet Jew ! If a Christian did not play the knave and get thee , I am much deceived . But , adieu ! these foolish drops do somewhat drown my manly spirit : adieu !
+
+Farewell , good Launcelot .
+
+Alack , what heinous sin is it in me
+To be asham'd to be my father's child !
+But though I am a daughter to his blood ,
+I am not to his manners . O Lorenzo !
+If thou keep promise , I shall end this strife ,
+Become a Christian , and thy loving wife .
+
+
+Nay , we will slink away in supper-time ,
+Disguise us at my lodging , and return
+All in an hour .
+
+We have not made good preparation .
+
+We have not spoke us yet of torch-bearers .
+
+'Tis vile , unless it may be quaintly order'd ,
+And better , in my mind , not undertook .
+
+'Tis now but four o'clock : we have two hours
+To furnish us .
+
+Friend Launcelot , what's the news ?
+
+An it shall please you to break up this , it shall seem to signify .
+
+I know the hand : in faith , 'tis a fair hand ;
+And whiter than the paper it writ on
+Is the fair hand that writ .
+
+Love news , in faith .
+
+By your leave , sir .
+
+Whither goest thou ?
+
+Marry , sir , to bid my old master , the Jew , to sup to-night with my new master , the Christian .
+
+Hold here , take this : tell gentle Jessica
+I will not fail her ; speak it privately .
+Go , gentlemen ,
+
+Will you prepare you for this masque to-night ?
+I am provided of a torch-bearer .
+
+Ay , marry , I'll be gone about it straight .
+
+And so will I .
+
+Meet me and Gratiano
+At Gratiano's lodging some hour hence .
+
+'Tis good we do so .
+
+
+Was not that letter from fair Jessica ?
+
+I must needs tell thee all . She hath directed
+How I shall take her from her father's house ;
+What gold and jewels she is furnish'd with ;
+What page's suit she hath in readiness .
+If e'er the Jew her father come to heaven ,
+It will be for his gentle daughter's sake ;
+And never dare misfortune cross her foot ,
+Unless she do it under this excuse ,
+That she is issue to a faithless Jew .
+Come , go with me : peruse this as thou goest .
+Fair Jessica shall be my torch-bearer .
+
+
+Well , thou shalt see , thy eyes shall be thy judge ,
+The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio :
+What , Jessical thou shalt not gormandize ,
+As thou hast done with me ;What , Jessical
+And sleep and snore , and rend apparel out
+Why , Jessica , I say !
+
+Why , Jessica !
+
+Who bids thee call ? I do not bid thee call .
+
+Your worship was wont to tell me that
+I could do nothing without bidding .
+
+
+Call you ? What is your will ?
+
+I am bid forth to supper , Jessica :
+There are my keys . But wherefore should I go ?
+I am not bid for love ; they flatter me :
+But yet I'll go in hate , to feed upon
+The prodigal Christian . Jessica , my girl ,
+Look to my house . I am right loath to go :
+There is some ill a-brewing towards my rest ,
+For I did dream of money-bags to-night .
+
+I beseech you , sir , go : my young master doth expect your reproach .
+
+So do I his .
+
+And they have conspired together : I will not say you shall see a masque ; but if you do , then it was not for nothing that my nose fell a-bleeding on Black-Monday last , at six o'clock i' the morning , falling out that year on Ash-Wednesday was four year in the afternoon .
+
+What ! are there masques ? Hear you me , Jessica :
+Lock up my doors ; and when you hear the drum ,
+And the vile squealing of the wry-neck'd fife ,
+Clamber not you up to the casements then ,
+Nor thrust your head into the public street
+To gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces ,
+But stop my house's ears , I mean my casements ;
+Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter
+My sober house . By Jacob's staff I swear
+I have no mind of feasting forth to-night ;
+But I will go . Go you before me , sirrah ;
+Say I will come .
+
+I will go before , air . Mistress , look out at window , for all this ;
+
+There will come a Christian by ,
+Will be worth a Jewess' eye .
+
+What says that fool of Hagar's offspring , ha ?
+
+His words were , 'Farewell , mistress ;' nothing else .
+
+The patch is kind enough , but a huge feeder ;
+Snail-slow in profit , and he sleeps by day
+More than the wild cat : drones hive not with me ;
+Therefore I part with him , and part with him
+To one that I would have him help to waste
+His borrow'd purse . Well , Jessica , go in :
+Perhaps I will return immediately :
+Do as I bid you ; shut doors after you :
+'Fast bind , fast find ,'
+A proverb never stale in thrifty mind .
+
+
+Farewell ; and if my fortune be not crost ,
+I have a father , you a daughter , lost .
+
+
+This is the penthouse under which Lorenzo
+Desir'd us to make stand .
+
+His hour is almost past .
+
+And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour ,
+For lovers ever run before the clock .
+
+O ! ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly
+To seal love's bonds new-made , than they are wont
+To keep obliged faith unforfeited !
+
+That ever holds : who riseth from a feast
+With that keen appetite that he sits down ?
+Where is the horse that doth untread again
+His tedious measures with the unbated fire
+That he did pace them first ? All things that are ,
+Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd .
+How like a younker or a prodigal
+The scarfed bark puts from her native bay ,
+Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind !
+How like the prodigal doth she return ,
+With over-weather'd ribs and ragged sails ,
+Lean , rent , and beggar'd by the strumpet wind !
+
+Here comes Lorenzo : more of this hereafter .
+
+
+Sweet friends , your patience for my long abode ;
+Not I , but my affairs , have made you wait :
+When you shall please to play the thieves for wives ,
+I'll watch as long for you then . Approach ;
+Here dwells my father Jew . Ho ! who's within ?
+
+
+Who are you ? Tell me , for more certainty ,
+Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue .
+
+Lorenzo , and thy love .
+
+Lorenzo , certain ; and my love indeed ,
+For whom love I so much ? And now who knows
+But you , Lorenzo , whether I am yours ?
+
+Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that thou art .
+
+Here , catch this casket ; it is worth the pains .
+I am glad 'tis night , you do not look on me ,
+For I am much asham'd of my exchange ;
+But love is blind , and lovers cannot see
+The pretty follies that themselves commit ;
+For if they could , Cupid himself would blush
+To see me thus transformed to a boy .
+
+Descend , for you must be my torch-bearer .
+
+What ! must I hold a candle to my shames ?
+They in themselves , good sooth , are too-too light .
+Why , 'tis an office of discovery , love ,
+And I should be obscur'd .
+
+So are you , sweet ,
+Even in the lovely garnish of a boy .
+But come at once ;
+For the close night doth play the runaway ,
+And we are stay'd for at Bassanio's feast .
+
+I will make fast the doors , and gild myself
+With some more ducats , and be with you straight .
+
+
+Now , by my hood , a Gentile , and no Jew .
+
+Beshrew me , but I love her heartily ;
+For she is wise , if I can judge of her ,
+And fair she is , if that mine eyes be true ,
+And true she is , as she hath prov'd herself ;
+And therefore , like herself , wise , fair , and true ,
+Shall she be placed in my constant soul .
+
+
+What , art thou come ? On , gentlemen ; away !
+Our masquing mates by this time for us stay .
+
+
+Who's there ?
+
+Signior Antonio !
+
+Fie , fie , Gratiano ! where are all the rest ?
+'Tis nine o'clock ; our friends all stay for you .
+No masque to-night : the wind is come about ;
+Bassanio presently will go aboard :
+I have sent twenty out to seek for you .
+
+I am glad on't : I desire no more delight
+Than to be under sail and gone to-night .
+
+
+Go , draw aside the curtains , and discover
+The several caskets to this noble prince .
+Now make your choice .
+
+The first , of gold , which this inscription bears :
+Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire .
+The second , silver , which this promise carries :
+Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves .
+This third , dull lead , with warning all as blunt :
+Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath .
+How shall I know if I do choose the right ?
+
+The one of them contains my picture , prince :
+If you choose that , then I am yours withal .
+
+Some god direct my judgment ! Let me see :
+I will survey the inscriptions back again :
+What says this leaden casket ?
+Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath .
+Must give : For what ? for lead ? hazard for lead ?
+This casket threatens . Men that hazard all
+Do it in hope of fair advantages :
+A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross ;
+I'll then nor give nor hazard aught for lead .
+What says the silver with her virgin hue ?
+Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves .
+As much as he deserves ! Pause there , Morocco ,
+And weigh thy value with an even hand .
+If thou be'st rated by thy estimation ,
+Thou dost deserve enough ; and yet enough
+May not extend so far as to the lady :
+And yet to be afeard of my deserving
+Were but a weak disabling of myself .
+As much as I deserve ! Why , that's the lady :
+I do in birth deserve her , and in fortunes ,
+In graces , and in qualities of breeding ;
+But more than these , in love I do deserve .
+What if I stray'd no further , but chose here ?
+Let's see once more this saying grav'd in gold :
+Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire .
+Why , that's the lady : all the world desires her ;
+From the four corners of the earth they come ,
+To kiss this shrine , this mortal-breathing saint :
+The Hyrcanian deserts and the vasty wilds
+Of wide Arabia are as throughfares now
+For princes to come view fair Portia :
+The watery kingdom , whose ambitious head
+Spits in the face of heaven , is no bar
+To stop the foreign spirits , but they come ,
+As o'er a brook , to see fair Portia .
+One of these three contains her heavenly picture .
+Is't like that lead contains her ? 'Twere damnation
+To think so base a thought : it were too gross
+To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave .
+Or shall I think in silver she's immur'd ,
+Being ten times undervalu'd to tried gold ?
+O sinful thought ! Never so rich a gem
+Was set in worse than gold . They have in England
+A coin that bears the figure of an angel
+Stamped in gold , but that's insculp'd upon ;
+But here an angel in a golden bed
+Lies all within . Deliver me the key :
+Here do I choose , and thrive I as I may !
+
+There , take it , prince ; and if my form lie there ,
+Then I am yours .
+
+
+O hell ! what have we here ?
+A carrion Death , within whose empty eye
+There is a written scroll . I'll read the writing .
+
+All that glisters is not gold ;
+Often have you heard that told :
+Many a man his life hath sold
+But my outside to behold :
+Gilded tombs do worms infold .
+Had you been as wise as bold ,
+Young in limbs , in judgment old ,
+Your answer had not been inscroll'd :
+Fare you well ; your suit is cold .
+
+Cold , indeed ; and labour lost :
+Then , farewell , heat , and welcome , frost !
+Portia , adieu . I have too griev'd a heart
+To take a tedious leave : thus losers part .
+
+
+A gentle riddance . Draw the curtains : go .
+Let all of his complexion choose me so .
+
+
+Why , man , I saw Bassanio under sail :
+With him is Gratiano gone along ;
+And in their ship I'm sure Lorenzo is not .
+
+The villain Jew with outcries rais'd the duke ,
+Who went with him to search Bassanio's ship .
+
+He came too late , the ship was under sail :
+But there the duke was given to understand
+That in a gondola were seen together
+Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica .
+Besides , Antonio certified the duke
+They were not with Bassanio in his ship .
+
+I never heard a passion so confus'd ,
+So strange , outrageous , and so variable ,
+As the dog Jew did utter in the streets :
+'My daughter ! O my ducats ! O my daughter !
+Fled with a Christian ! O my Christian ducats !
+Justice ! the law ! my ducats , and my daughter !
+A sealed bag , two sealed bags of ducats ,
+Of double ducats , stol'n from me by my daughter !
+And jewels ! two stones , two rich and precious stones ,
+Stol'n by my daughter ! Justice ! find the girl !
+She hath the stones upon her , and the ducats .'
+
+Why , all the boys in Venice follow him ,
+Crying , his stones , his daughter , and his ducats .
+
+Let good Antonio look he keep his day ,
+Or he shall pay for this .
+
+Marry , well remember'd .
+I reason'd with a Frenchman yesterday ,
+Who told me ,in the narrow seas that part
+The French and English ,there miscarried
+A vessel of our country richly fraught .
+I thought upon Antonio when he told me ,
+And wish'd in silence that it were not his .
+
+You were best to tell Antonio what you hear ;
+Yet do not suddenly , for it may grieve him .
+
+A kinder gentleman treads not the earth .
+I saw Bassanio and Antonio part :
+Bassanio told him he would make some speed
+Of his return : he answer'd 'Do not so ;
+Slubber not business for my sake , Bassanio ,
+But stay the very riping of the time ;
+And for the Jew's bond which he hath of me ,
+Let it not enter in your mind of love :
+Be merry , and employ your chiefest thoughts
+To courtship and such fair ostents of love
+As shall conveniently become you there :'
+And even there , his eye being big with tears ,
+Turning his face , he put his hand behind him ,
+And with affection wondrous sensible
+He wrung Bassanio's hand ; and so they parted .
+
+I think he only loves the world for him .
+I pray thee , let us go and find him out ,
+And quicken his embraced heaviness
+With some delight or other .
+
+Do we so .
+
+
+Quick , quick , I pray thee ; draw the curtain straight :
+The Prince of Arragon hath ta'en his oath ,
+And comes to his election presently .
+
+
+Behold , there stands the caskets , noble prince :
+If you choose that wherein I am contain'd ,
+Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemniz'd ;
+But if you fail , without more speech , my lord ,
+You must be gone from hence immediately .
+
+I am enjoin'd by oath to observe three things :
+First , never to unfold to any one
+Which casket 'twas I chose ; next , if I fail
+Of the right casket , never in my life
+To woo a maid in way of marriage ;
+Lastly ,
+If I do fail in fortune of my choice ,
+Immediately to leave you and be gone .
+
+To these injunctions every one doth swear
+That comes to hazard for my worthless self .
+
+And so have I address'd me . Fortune now
+To my heart's hope ! Gold , silver , and base lead .
+Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath :
+You shall look fairer , ere I give or hazard .
+What says the golden chest ? ha ! let me see :
+Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire .
+What many men desire ! that 'many' may be meant
+By the fool multitude , that choose by show ,
+Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach ;
+Which pries not to the interior , but , like the martlet ,
+Builds in the weather on the outward wall ,
+Even in the force and road of casualty .
+I will not choose what many men desire ,
+Because I will not jump with common spirits
+And rank me with the barbarous multitude .
+Why , then to thee , thou silver treasure-house ;
+Tell me once more what title thou dost bear :
+Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves .
+And well said too ; for who shall go about
+To cozen fortune and be honourable
+Without the stamp of merit ? Let none presume
+To wear an undeserved dignity .
+O ! that estates , degrees , and offices
+Were not deriv'd corruptly , and that clear honour
+Were purchas'd by the merit of the wearer .
+How many then should cover that stand bare ;
+How many be commanded that command ;
+How much low peasantry would then be glean'd
+From the true seed of honour ; and how much honour
+Pick'd from the chaff and ruin of the times
+To be new varnish'd ! Well , but to my choice :
+Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves .
+I will assume desert . Give me a key for this ,
+And instantly unlock my fortunes here .
+
+
+Too long a pause for that which you find there .
+
+What's here ? the portrait of a blinking idiot ,
+Presenting me a schedule ! I will read it .
+How much unlike art thou to Portia !
+How much unlike my hopes and my deservings !
+Who chooseth me shall have as much as he deserves .
+Did I deserve no more than a fool's head ?
+Is that my prize ? are my deserts no better ?
+
+To offend , and judge , are distinct offices ,
+And of opposed natures .
+
+What is here ?
+
+The fire seven times tried this :
+Seven times tried that judgment is
+That did never choose amiss .
+Some there be that shadows kiss ;
+Such have but a shadow's bliss :
+There be fools alive , I wis ,
+Silver'd o'er ; and so was this .
+Take what wife you will to bed ,
+I will ever be your head :
+So be gone , sir : you are sped .
+
+
+Still more fool I shall appear
+By the time I linger here :
+With one fool's head I came to woo ,
+But I go away with two .
+Sweet , adieu . I'll keep my oath ,
+Patiently to bear my wroth .
+
+Thus hath the candle sing'd the moth .
+O , these deliberate fools ! when they do choose ,
+They have the wisdom by their wit to lose .
+
+The ancient saying is no heresy :
+'Hanging and wiving goes by destiny .'
+
+Come , draw the curtain , Nerissa .
+
+
+Where is my lady ?
+
+Here ; what would my lord ?
+
+Madam , there is alighted at your gate
+A young Venetian , one that comes before
+To signify the approaching of his lord ;
+From whom he bringeth sensible regreets ,
+To wit , besides commends and courteous breath ,
+Gifts of rich value . Yet I have not seen
+So likely an embassador of love .
+A day in April never came so sweet ,
+To show how costly summer was at hand ,
+As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord .
+
+No more , I pray thee : I am half afeard
+Thou wilt say anon he is some kin to thee ,
+Thou spend'st such high-day wit in praising him .
+Come , come , Nerissa ; for I long to see
+Quick Cupid's post that comes so mannerly .
+
+Bassanio , lord Love , if thy will it be !
+
+Now , what news on the Rialto ?
+
+Why , yet it lives there unchecked that Antonio hath a ship of rich lading wracked on the narrow seas ; the Goodwins , I think they call the place ; a very dangerous flat , and fatal , where the carcasses of many a tall ship lie buried , as they say , if my gossip Report be an honest woman of her word .
+
+I would she were as lying a gossip in that as ever knapped ginger , or made her neighbours believe she wept for the death of a third husband . But it is true ,without any slips of prolixity or crossing the plain highway of talk ,that the good Antonio , the honest Antonio ,O , that I had a title good enough to keep his name company !
+
+Come , the full stop .
+
+Ha ! what sayst thou ? Why , the end is , he hath lost a ship .
+
+I would it might prove the end of his losses .
+
+Let me say 'amen' betimes , lest the devil cross my prayer , for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew .
+
+How now , Shylock ! what news among the merchants ?
+
+You knew , none so well , none so well as you , of my daughter's flight .
+
+That's certain : I , for my part , knew the tailor that made the wings she flew withal .
+
+And Shylock , for his own part , knew the bird was fledged ; and then it is the complexion of them all to leave the dam .
+
+She is damned for it .
+
+That's certain , if the devil may be her judge .
+
+My own flesh and blood to rebel !
+
+Out upon it , old carrion ! rebels it at these years ?
+
+I say my daughter is my flesh and blood .
+
+There is more difference between thy flesh and hers than between jet and ivory ; more between your bloods than there is between red wine and Rhenish . But tell us , do you hear whether Antonio have had any loss at sea or no ?
+
+There I have another bad match : a bankrupt , a prodigal , who dare scarce show his head on the Rialto ; a beggar , that used to come so smug upon the mart ; let him look to his bond : he was wont to call me usurer ; let him look to his bond : he was wont to lend money for a Christian courtesy ; let him look to his bond .
+
+Why , I am sure , if he forfeit thou wilt not take his flesh : what's that good for ?
+
+To bait fish withal : if it will feed nothing else , it will feed my revenge . He hath disgraced me , and hindered me half a million , laughed at my losses , mocked at my gains , scorned my nation , thwarted my bargains , cooled my friends , heated mine enemies ; and what's his reason ? I am a Jew . Hath not a Jew eyes ? hath not a Jew hands , organs , dimensions , senses , affections , passions ? fed with the same food , hurt with the same weapons , subject to the same diseases , healed by the same means , warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer , as a Christian is ? If you prick us , do we not bleed ? if you tickle us , do we not laugh ? if you poison us , do we not die ? and if you wrong us , shall we not revenge ? If we are like you in the rest , we will resemble you in that . If a Jew wrong a Christian , what is his humility ? Revenge . If a Christian wrong a Jew , what should his sufferance be by Christian example ? Why , revenge . The villany you teach me I will execute , and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction .
+
+
+Gentlemen , my master Antonio is at his house , and desires to speak with you both .
+
+We have been up and down to seek him .
+
+
+Here comes another of the tribe : a third cannot be matched , unless the devil himself turn Jew .
+
+
+How now , Tubal ! what news from Genoa ? Hast thou found my daughter ?
+
+I often came where I did hear of her , but cannot find her .
+
+Why there , there , there ! a diamond gone , cost me two thousand ducats in Frankfort ! The curse never fell upon our nation till now ; I never felt it till now : two thousand ducats in that ; and other precious , precious jewels . I would my daughter were dead at my foot , and the jewels in her ear ! would she were hearsed at my foot , and the ducats in her coffin ! No news of them ? Why , so : and I know not what's spent in the search : Why thou loss upon loss ! the thief gone with so much , and so much to find the thief ; and no satisfaction , no revenge : nor no ill luck stirring but what lights on my shoulders ; no sighs but of my breathing ; no tears but of my shedding .
+
+Yes , other men have ill luck too . Antonio , as I heard in Genoa ,
+
+What , what , what ? ill luck , ill luck ?
+
+hath an argosy cast away , coming from Tripolis .
+
+I thank God ! I thank God ! Is it true ? is it true ?
+
+I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped the wrack .
+
+I thank thee , good Tubal . Good news , good news ! ha , ha ! Where ? in Genoa ?
+
+Your daughter spent in Genoa , as I heard , one night , fourscore ducats .
+
+Thou stick'st a dagger in me : I shall never see my gold again : fourscore ducats at a sitting ! fourscore ducats !
+
+There came divers of Antonio's creditors in my company to Venice , that swear he cannot choose but break .
+
+I am very glad of it : I'll plague him ; I'll torture him : I am glad of it .
+
+One of them showed me a ring that he had of your daughter for a monkey .
+
+Out upon her ! Thou torturest me , Tubal : it was my turquoise ; I had it of Leah when I was a bachelor : I would not have given it for a wilderness of monkeys .
+
+But Antonio is certainly undone .
+
+Nay , that's true , that's very true . Go , Tubal , fee me an officer ; bespeak him a fortnight before . I will have the heart of him , if he forfeit ; for , were he out of Venice , I can make what merchandise I will . Go , go , Tubal , and meet me at our synagogue ; go , good Tubal ; at our synagogue , Tubal .
+
+
+I pray you , tarry : pause a day or two
+Before you hazard ; for , in choosing wrong .
+I lose your company : therefore , forbear awhile .
+There's something tells me , but it is not love ,
+I would not lose you ; and you know yourself ,
+Hate counsels not in such a quality .
+But lest you should not understand me well ,
+And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought ,
+I would detain you here some month or two
+Before you venture for me . I could teach you
+How to choose right , but then I am forsworn ;
+So will I never be : so may you miss me ;
+But if you do , you'll make me wish a sin ,
+That I had been forsworn . Beshrew your eyes ,
+They have o'erlook'd me and divided me :
+One half of me is yours , the other half yours ,
+Mine own , I would say ; but if mine , then yours ,
+And so all yours . O ! these naughty times
+Put bars between the owners and their rights ;
+And so , though yours , not yours . Prove it so ,
+Let fortune go to hell for it , not I .
+I speak too long ; but 'tis to peise the time ,
+To eke it and to draw it out in length ,
+To stay you from election .
+
+Let me choose ;
+For as I am , I live upon the rack .
+
+Upon the rack , Bassanio ! then confess
+What treason there is mingled with your love .
+
+None but that ugly treason of mistrust ,
+Which makes me fear th' enjoying of my love :
+There may as well be amity and life
+'Tween snow and fire , as treason and my love .
+
+Ay , but I fear you speak upon the rack ,
+Where men enforced do speak anything .
+
+Promise me life , and I'll confess the truth .
+
+Well then , confess , and live .
+
+'Confess' and 'love'
+Had been the very sum of my confession :
+O happy torment , when my torturer
+Doth teach me answers for deliverance !
+But let me to my fortune and the caskets .
+
+Away then ! I am lock'd in one of them :
+If you do love me , you will find me out .
+Nerissa and the rest , stand all aloof .
+Let music sound while he doth make his choice ;
+Then , if he lose , he makes a swan-like end ,
+Fading in music : that the comparison
+May stand more proper , my eye shall be the stream
+And watery death-bed for him . He may win ;
+And what is music then ? then music is
+Even as the flourish when true subjects bow
+To a new-crowned monarch : such it is
+As are those dulcet sounds in break of day
+That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear ,
+And summon him to marriage . Now he goes ,
+With no less presence , but with much more love ,
+Than young Alcides , when he did redeem
+The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy
+To the sea-monster : I stand for sacrifice ;
+The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives ,
+With bleared visages , come forth to view
+The issue of the exploit . Go , Hercules !
+Live thou , I live : with much , much more dismay
+I view the fight than thou that mak'st the fray .
+
+
+Tell me where is fancy bred ,
+Or in the heart or in the head ?
+How begot , how nourished ?
+Reply , reply .
+It is engender'd in the eyes ,
+With gazing fed ; and fancy dies
+In the cradle where it lies
+Let us all ring fancy's knell ;
+I'll begin it ,Ding , dong , bell .
+
+
+Ding , dong , bell .
+
+So may the outward shows be least themselves :
+The world is still deceiv'd with ornament .
+In law , what plea so tainted and corrupt
+But , being season'd with a gracious voice ,
+Obscures the show of evil ? In religion ,
+What damned error , but some sober brow
+Will bless it and approve it with a text ,
+Hiding the grossness with fair ornament ?
+There is no vice so simple but assumes
+Some mark of virtue on his outward parts .
+How many cowards , whose hearts are all as false
+As stairs of sand , wear yet upon their chins
+The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars ,
+Who , inward search'd , have livers white as milk ;
+And these assume but valour's excrement
+To render them redoubted ! Look on beauty ,
+And you shall see 'tis purchas'd by the weight ;
+Which therein works a miracle in nature ,
+Making them lightest that wear most of it :
+So are those crisped snaky golden locks
+Which make such wanton gambols with the wind ,
+Upon supposed fairness , often known
+To be the dowry of a second head ,
+The skull that bred them , in the sepulchre .
+Thus ornament is but the guiled shore
+To a most dangerous sea ; the beauteous scarf
+Veiling an Indian beauty ; in a word ,
+The seeming truth which cunning times put on
+To entrap the wisest . Therefore , thou gaudy gold ,
+Hard food for Midas , I will none of thee ;
+Nor none of thee , thou pale and common drudge
+'Tween man and man : but thou , thou meagre lead ,
+Which rather threat'nest than dost promise aught ,
+Thy plainness moves me more than eloquence ,
+And here choose I : joy be the consequence !
+
+How all the other passions fleet to air ,
+As doubtful thoughts , and rash-embrac'd despair ,
+And shuddering fear , and green-ey'd jealousy .
+O love ! be moderate ; allay thy ecstasy ;
+In measure rain thy joy ; scant this excess ;
+I feel too much thy blessing ; make it less ,
+For fear I surfeit !
+
+What find I here ?
+
+Fair Portia's counterfeit ! What demi-god
+Hath come so near creation ? Move these eyes ?
+Or whether , riding on the balls of mine ,
+Seem they in motion ? Here are sever'd lips ,
+Parted with sugar breath ; so sweet a bar
+Should sunder such sweet friends . Here , in her hairs
+The painter plays the spider , and hath woven
+A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men
+Faster than gnats in cobwebs : but her eyes !
+How could he see to do them ? having made one ,
+Methinks it should have power to steal both his
+And leave itself unfurnish'd : yet look , how far
+The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow
+In underprizing it , so far this shadow
+Doth limp behind the substance . Here's the scroll ,
+The continent and summary of my fortune .
+
+You that choose not by the view ,
+Chance as fair and choose as true !
+Since this fortune falls to you ,
+Be content and seek no new .
+If you be well pleas'd with this
+And hold your fortune for your bliss ,
+Turn you where your lady is
+And claim her with a loving kiss .
+
+A gentle scroll . Fair lady , by your leave ;
+
+I come by note , to give and to receive .
+Like one of two contending in a prize ,
+That thinks he hath done well in people's eyes ,
+Hearing applause and universal shout ,
+Giddy in spirit , still gazing in a doubt
+Whether those peals of praise be his or no ;
+So , thrice-fair lady , stand I , even so ,
+As doubtful whether what I see be true ,
+Until confirm'd , sign'd , ratified by you .
+
+You see me , Lord Bassanio , where I stand ,
+Such as I am : though for myself alone
+I would not be ambitious in my wish ,
+To wish myself much better ; yet , for you
+I would be trebled twenty times myself ;
+A thousand times more fair , ten thousand times
+More rich ;
+That only to stand high in your account ,
+I might in virtues , beauties , livings , friends ,
+Exceed account : but the full sum of me
+Is sum of nothing ; which , to term in gross ,
+Is an unlesson'd girl , unschool'd , unpractis'd ;
+Happy in this , she is not yet so old
+But she may learn ; happier than this ,
+She is not bred so dull but she can learn ;
+Happiest of all is that her gentle spirit
+Commits itself to yours to be directed ,
+As from her lord , her governor , her king .
+Myself and what is mine to you and yours
+Is now converted : but now I was the lord
+Of this fair mansion , master of my servants ,
+Queen o'er myself ; and even now , but now ,
+This house , these servants , and this same myself
+Are yours , my lord . I give them with this ring ;
+Which when you part from , lose , or give away ,
+Let it presage the ruin of your love ,
+And be my vantage to exclaim on you .
+
+Madam , you have bereft me of all words ,
+Only my blood speaks to you in my veins ;
+And there is such confusion in my powers ,
+As , after some oration fairly spoke
+By a beloved prince , there doth appear
+Among the buzzing pleased multitude ;
+Where every something , being blent together ,
+Turns to a wild of nothing , save of joy ,
+Express'd and not express'd . But when this ring
+Parts from this finger , then parts life from hence :
+O ! then be bold to say Bassanio's dead .
+
+My lord and lady , it is now our time ,
+That have stood by and seen our wishes prosper ,
+To cry , good joy . Good joy , my lord and lady !
+
+My Lord Bassanio and my gentle lady ,
+I wish you all the joy that you can wish ;
+For I am sure you can wish none from me :
+And when your honours mean to solemnize
+The bargain of your faith , I do beseech you ,
+Even at that time I may be married too .
+
+With all my heart , so thou canst get a wife .
+
+I thank your lordship , you have got me one .
+My eyes , my lord , can look as swift as yours :
+You saw the mistress , I beheld the maid ;
+You lov'd , I lov'd for intermission .
+No more pertains to me , my lord , than you .
+Your fortune stood upon the caskets there ,
+And so did mine too , as the matter falls ;
+For wooing here until I sweat again ,
+And swearing till my very roof was dry
+With oaths of love , at last , if promise last ,
+I got a promise of this fair one here
+To have her love , provided that your fortune
+Achiev'd her mistress .
+
+Is this true , Nerissa ?
+
+Madam , it is , so you stand pleas'd withal .
+
+And do you , Gratiano , mean good faith ?
+
+Yes , faith , my lord .
+
+Our feast shall be much honour'd in your marriage .
+
+We'll play with them the first boy for a thousand ducats .
+
+What ! and stake down ?
+
+No ; we shall ne'er win at that sport , and stake down .
+But who comes here ? Lorenzo and his infidel ?
+What ! and my old Venetian friend , Salanio ?
+
+
+Lorenzo , and Salanio , welcome hither ,
+If that the youth of my new interest here
+Have power to bid you welcome . By your leave ,
+I bid my very friends and countrymen ,
+Sweet Portia , welcome .
+
+So do I , my lord :
+They are entirely welcome .
+
+I thank your honour . For my part , my lord ,
+My purpose was not to have seen you here ;
+But meeting with Salanio by the way ,
+He did entreat me , past all saying nay ,
+To come with him along .
+
+I did , my lord ,
+And I have reason for it . Signior Antonio
+Commends him to you .
+
+
+Ere I ope his letter ,
+I pray you , tell me how my good friend doth .
+
+Not sick , my lord , unless it be in mind ;
+Nor well , unless in mind : his letter there
+Will show you his estate .
+
+Nerissa , cheer yon stranger ; bid her welcome .
+Your hand , Salanio . What's the news from Venice ?
+How doth that royal merchant , good Antonio ?
+I know he will be glad of our success ;
+We are the Jasons , we have won the fleece .
+
+I would you had won the fleece that he hath lost .
+
+There are some shrewd contents in yon same paper ,
+That steal the colour from Bassanio's cheek :
+Some dear friend dead , else nothing in the world
+Could turn so much the constitution
+Of any constant man . What , worse and worse !
+With leave , Bassanio ; I am half yourself ,
+And I must freely have the half of anything
+That this same paper brings you .
+
+O sweet Portia !
+Here are a few of the unpleasant'st words
+That ever blotted paper . Gentle lady ,
+When I did first impart my love to you ,
+I freely told you all the wealth I had
+Ran in my veins , I was a gentleman :
+And then I told you true ; and yet , dear lady ,
+Rating myself at nothing , you shall see
+How much I was a braggart . When I told you
+My state was nothing , I should then have told you
+That I was worse than nothing ; for , indeed ,
+I have engag'd myself to a dear friend ,
+Engag'd my friend to his mere enemy ,
+To feed my means . Here is a letter , lady ;
+The paper as the body of my friend ,
+And every word in it a gaping wound ,
+Issuing life-blood . But is it true , Salanio ?
+Hath all his ventures fail'd ? What , not one hit ?
+From Tripolis , from Mexico , and England ,
+From Lisbon , Barbary , and India ?
+And not one vessel 'scape the dreadful touch
+Of merchant-marring rocks ?
+
+Not one , my lord .
+Besides , it should appear , that if he had
+The present money to discharge the Jew ,
+He would not take it . Never did I know
+A creature , that did bear the shape of man ,
+So keen and greedy to confound a man .
+He plies the duke at morning and at night ,
+And doth impeach the freedom of the state ,
+If they deny him justice : twenty merchants ,
+The duke himself , and the magnificoes
+Of greatest port , have all persuaded with him ;
+But none can drive him from the envious plea
+Of forfeiture , of justice , and his bond .
+
+When I was with him , I have heard him swear
+To Tubal and to Chus , his countrymen ,
+That he would rather have Antonio's flesh
+Than twenty times the value of the sum
+That he did owe him ; and I know , my lord ,
+If law , authority , and power deny not ,
+It will go hard with poor Antonio .
+
+Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble ?
+
+The dearest friend to me , the kindest man ,
+The best-condition'd and unwearied spirit
+In doing courtesies , and one in whom
+The ancient Roman honour more appears
+Than any that draws breath in Italy .
+
+What sum owes he the Jew ?
+
+For me , three thousand ducats .
+
+What , no more ?
+Pay him six thousand , and deface the bond ;
+Double six thousand , and then treble that ,
+Before a friend of this description
+Shall lose a hair thorough Bassanio's fault .
+First go with me to church and call me wife ,
+And then away to Venice to your friend ;
+For never shall you lie by Portia's side
+With an unquiet soul . You shall have gold
+To pay the petty debt twenty times over :
+When it is paid , bring your true friend along .
+My maid Nerissa and myself meantime ,
+Will live as maids and widows . Come , away !
+For you shall hence upon your wedding-day .
+Bid your friends welcome , show a merry cheer ;
+Since you are dear bought , I will love you dear .
+But let me hear the letter of your friend .
+
+Sweet Bassanio , my ships have all miscarried , my creditors grow cruel , my estate is very low , my bond to the Jew is forfeit ; and since , in paying it , it is impossible I should live , all debts are cleared between you and I , if I might but see you at my death . Notwithstanding , use your pleasure : if your love do not persuade you to come , let not my letter .
+
+O love , dispatch all business , and be gone !
+
+Since I have your good leave to go away ,
+I will make haste ; but , till I come again ,
+No bed shall e'er be guilty of my stay ,
+Nor rest be interposer 'twixt us twain .
+
+
+Gaoler , look to him : tell not me of mercy ;
+This is the fool that lent out money gratis :
+Gaoler , look to him .
+
+Hear me yet , good Shylock .
+
+I'll have my bond ; speak not against my bond :
+I have sworn an oath that I will have my bond .
+Thou call'dst me dog before thou hadst a cause ,
+But , since I am a dog , beware my fangs :
+The duke shall grant me justice . I do wonder ,
+Thou naughty gaoler , that thou art so fond
+To come abroad with him at his request .
+
+I pray thee , hear me speak .
+
+I'll have my bond ; I will not hear thee speak :
+I'll have my bond , and therefore speak no more .
+I'll not be made a soft and dull-eyed fool ,
+To shake the head , relent , and sigh , and yield
+To Christian intercessors . Follow not ;
+I'll have no speaking ; I will have my bond .
+
+
+It is the most impenetrable cur
+That ever kept with men .
+
+Let him alone :
+I'll follow him no more with bootless prayers .
+He seeks my life ; his reason well I know .
+I oft deliver'd from his forfeitures
+Many that have at times made moan to me ;
+Therefore he hates me .
+
+I am sure the duke
+Will never grant this forfeiture to hold .
+
+The duke cannot deny the course of law :
+For the commodity that strangers have
+With us in Venice , if it be denied ,
+'Twill much impeach the justice of the state ;
+Since that the trade and profit of the city
+Consisteth of all nations . Therefore , go :
+These griefs and losses have so bated me ,
+That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh
+To-morrow to my bloody creditor .
+Well , gaoler , on . Pray God , Bassanio come
+To see me pay his debt , and then I care not !
+
+
+Madam , although I speak it in your presence ,
+You have a noble and a true conceit
+Of god-like amity ; which appears most strongly
+In bearing thus the absence of your lord .
+But if you knew to whom you show this honour ,
+How true a gentleman you send relief ,
+How dear a lover of my lord your husband ,
+I know you would be prouder of the work
+Than customary bounty can enforce you .
+
+I never did repent for doing good ,
+Nor shall not now : for in companions
+That do converse and waste the time together ,
+Whose souls do bear an equal yoke of love ,
+There must be needs a like proportion
+Of lineaments , of manners , and of spirit ;
+Which makes me think that this Antonio ,
+Being the bosom lover of my lord ,
+Must needs be like my lord . If it be so ,
+How little is the cost I have bestow'd
+In purchasing the semblance of my soul
+From out the state of hellish cruelty !
+This comes too near the praising of myself ;
+Therefore , no more of it : hear other things .
+Lorenzo , I commit into your hands
+The husbandry and manage of my house
+Until my lord's return : for mine own part ,
+I have toward heaven breath'd a secret vow
+To live in prayer and contemplation ,
+Only attended by Nerissa here ,
+Until her husband and my lord's return .
+There is a monastery two miles off ,
+And there will we abide . I do desire you
+Not to deny this imposition ,
+The which my love and some necessity
+Now lays upon you .
+
+Madam , with all my heart :
+I shall obey you in all fair commands .
+
+My people do already know my mind ,
+And will acknowledge you and Jessica
+In place of Lord Bassanio and myself .
+So fare you well till we shall meet again .
+
+Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you !
+
+I wish your ladyship all heart's content .
+
+I thank you for your wish , and am well pleas'd
+To wish it back on you : fare you well , Jessica .
+
+Now , Balthazar ,
+As I have ever found thee honest-true ,
+So let me find thee still . Take this same letter ,
+And use thou all the endeavour of a man
+In speed to Padua : see thou render this
+Into my cousin's hand , Doctor Bellario ;
+And , look , what notes and garments he doth give thee ,
+Bring them , I pray thee , with imagin'd speed
+Unto the traject , to the common ferry
+Which trades to Venice . Waste no time in words ,
+But get thee gone : I shall be there before thee .
+
+Madam , I go with all convenient speed .
+
+
+Come on , Nerissa : I have work in hand
+That you yet know not of : we'll see our husbands
+Before they think of us .
+
+Shall they see us ?
+
+They shall , Nerissa ; but in such a habit
+That they shall think we are accomplished
+With that we lack . I'll hold thee any wager ,
+When we are both accoutred like young men ,
+I'll prove the prettier fellow of the two ,
+And wear my dagger with the braver grace ,
+And speak between the change of man and boy
+With a reed voice , and turn two mincing steps
+Into a manly stride , and speak of frays
+Like a fine bragging youth , and tell quaint lies ,
+How honourable ladies sought my love ,
+Which I denying , they fell sick and died :
+I could not do withal ; then I'll repent ,
+And wish , for all that , that I had not kill'd them :
+And twenty of these puny lies I'll tell ,
+That men shall swear I have discontinu'd school
+Above a twelvemonth . I have within my mind
+A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Jacks ,
+Which I will practise .
+
+Why , shall we turn to men ?
+
+Fie , what a question's that ,
+If thou wert near a lewd interpreter !
+But come : I'll tell thee all my whole device
+When I am in my coach , which stays for us
+At the park gate ; and therefore haste away ,
+For we must measure twenty miles to-day .
+
+
+Yes , truly ; for , look you , the sins of the father are to be laid upon the children ; therefore , I promise you , I fear you . I was always plain with you , and so now I speak my agitation of the matter : therefore be of good cheer ; for , truly , I think you are damned . There is but one hope in it that can do you any good , and that is but a kind of bastard hope neither .
+
+And what hope is that , I pray thee ?
+
+Marry , you may partly hope that your father got you not , that you are not the Jew's daughter .
+
+That were a kind of bastard hope , indeed : so the sins of my mother should be visited upon me .
+
+Truly then I fear you are damned both by father and mother : thus when I shun Scylla , your father , I fall into Charybdis , your mother : well , you are gone both ways .
+
+I shall be saved by my husband ; he hath made me a Christian .
+
+Truly the more to blame he : we were Christians enow before ; e'en as many as could well live one by another . This making of Christians will raise the price of hogs : if we grow all to be pork-eaters , we shall not shortly have a rasher on the coals for money .
+
+I'll tell my husband , Launcelot , what you say : here he comes .
+
+
+I shall grow jealous of you shortly , Launcelot , if you thus get my wife into corners .
+
+Nay , you need not fear us , Lorenzo : Launcelot and I are out . He tells me flatly , there is no mercy for me in heaven , because I am a Jew's daughter : and he says you are no good member of the commonwealth , for , in converting Jews to Christians , you raise the price of pork .
+
+I shall answer that better to the commonwealth than you can the getting up of the negro's belly : the Moor is with child by you , Launcelot .
+
+It is much that the Moor should be more than reason ; but if she be less than an honest woman , she is indeed more than I took her for .
+
+How every fool can play upon the word ! I think the best grace of wit will shortly turn into silence , and discourse grow commendable in none only but parrots . Go in , sirrah : bid them prepare for dinner .
+
+That is done , sir ; they have all stomachs .
+
+Goodly Lord , what a wit-snapper are you ! then bid them prepare dinner .
+
+That is done too , sir ; only , 'cover' is the word .
+
+Will you cover , then , sir ?
+
+Not so , sir , neither ; I know my duty .
+
+Yet more quarrelling with occasion ! Wilt thou show the whole wealth of thy wit in an instant ? I pray thee , understand a plain man in his plain meaning : go to thy fellows ; bid them cover the table , serve in the meat , and we will come in to dinner .
+
+For the table , sir , it shall be served in ; for the meat , sir , it shall be covered ; for your coming in to dinner , sir , why , let it be as humours and conceits shall govern .
+
+
+O dear discretion , how his words are suited !
+The fool hath planted in his memory
+An army of good words : and I do know
+A many fools , that stand in better place ,
+Garnish'd like him , that for a tricksy word
+Defy the matter . How cheer'st thou , Jessica ?
+And now , good sweet , say thy opinion ;
+How dost thou like the Lord Bassanio's wife ?
+
+Past all expressing . It is very meet ,
+The Lord Bassanio live an upright life ,
+For , having such a blessing in his lady ,
+He finds the joys of heaven here on earth ;
+And if on earth he do not mean it , then
+In reason he should never come to heaven .
+Why , if two gods should play some heavenly match ,
+And on the wager lay two earthly women ,
+And Portia one , there must be something else
+Pawn'd with the other , for the poor rude world
+Hath not her fellow .
+
+Even such a husband
+Hast thou of me as she is for a wife .
+
+Nay , but ask my opinion too of that .
+
+I will anon ; first , let us go to dinner .
+
+Nay , let me praise you while I have a stomach .
+
+No , pray thee , let it serve for table-talk ; Then howsoe'er thou speak'st , 'mong other things I shall digest it .
+
+Well , I'll set you forth .
+
+What , is Antonio here ?
+
+Ready , so please your Grace .
+
+I am sorry for thee : thou art come to answer
+A stony adversary , an inhuman wretch
+Uncapable of pity , void and empty
+From any dram of mercy .
+
+I have heard
+Your Grace hath ta'en great pains to qualify
+His rigorous course ; but since he stands obdurate ,
+And that no lawful means can carry me
+Out of his envy's reach , I do oppose
+My patience to his fury , and am arm'd
+To suffer with a quietness of spirit
+The very tyranny and rage of his .
+
+Go one , and call the Jew into the court .
+
+He's ready at the door : he comes , my lord .
+
+
+Make room , and let him stand before our face .
+Shylock , the world thinks , and I think so too ,
+That thou but lead'st this fashion of thy malice
+To the last hour of act ; and then 'tis thought
+Thou'lt show thy mercy and remorse more strange
+Than is thy strange-apparent cruelty ;
+And where thou now exact'st the penalty ,
+Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh ,
+Thou wilt not only loose the forfeiture ,
+But , touch'd with human gentleness and love ,
+Forgive a moiety of the principal ;
+Glancing an eye of pity on his losses ,
+That have of late so huddled on his back ,
+Enow to press a royal merchant down ,
+And pluck commiseration of his state
+From brassy bosoms and rough hearts of flint ,
+From stubborn Turks and Tartars , never train'd
+To offices of tender courtesy .
+We all expect a gentle answer , Jew .
+
+I have possess'd your Grace of what I purpose ;
+And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn
+To have the due and forfeit of my bond :
+If you deny it , let the danger light
+Upon your charter and your city's freedom .
+You'll ask me , why I rather choose to have
+A weight of carrion flesh than to receive
+Three thousand ducats : I'll not answer that :
+But say it is my humour : is it answer'd ?
+What if my house be troubled with a rat ,
+And I be pleas'd to give ten thousand ducats
+To have it ban'd ? What , are you answer'd yet ?
+Some men there are love not a gaping pig ;
+Some , that are mad if they behold a cat ;
+And others , when the bagpipe sings i' the nose ,
+Cannot contain their urine : for affection ,
+Mistress of passion , sways it to the mood
+Of what it likes , or loathes . Now , for your answer :
+As there is no firm reason to be render'd ,
+Why he cannot abide a gaping pig ;
+Why he , a harmless necessary cat ;
+Why he , a wauling bagpipe ; but of force
+Must yield to such inevitable shame
+As to offend , himself being offended ;
+So can I give no reason , nor I will not ,
+More than a lodg'd hate and a certain loathing
+I bear Antonio , that I follow thus
+A losing suit against him . Are you answer'd ?
+
+This is no answer , thou unfeeling man ,
+To excuse the current of thy cruelty .
+
+I am not bound to please thee with my answer .
+
+Do all men kill the things they do not love ?
+
+Hates any man the thing he would not kill ?
+
+Every offence is not a hate at first .
+
+What ! wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee twice ?
+
+I pray you , think you question with the Jew :
+You may as well go stand upon the beach ,
+And bid the main flood bate his usual height ;
+You may as well use question with the wolf ,
+Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb ;
+You may as well forbid the mountain pines
+To wag their high tops , and to make no noise
+When they are fretted with the gusts of heaven ;
+You may as well do anything most hard ,
+As seek to soften that than which what's harder ?
+His Jewish heart : therefore , I do beseech you ,
+Make no more offers , use no further means ;
+But with all brief and plain conveniency ,
+Let me have judgment , and the Jew his will .
+
+For thy three thousand ducats here is six .
+
+If every ducat in six thousand ducats
+Were in six parts and every part a ducat ,
+I would not draw them ; I would have my bond .
+
+How shalt thou hope for mercy , rendering none ?
+
+What judgment shall I dread , doing no wrong ?
+You have among you many a purchas'd slave ,
+Which , like your asses and your dogs and mules ,
+You use in abject and in slavish parts ,
+Because you bought them : shall I say to you ,
+Let them be free , marry them to your heirs ?
+Why sweat they under burdens ? let their beds
+Be made as soft as yours , and let their palates
+Be season'd with such viands ? You will answer :
+'The slaves are ours :' so do I answer you :
+The pound of flesh which I demand of him ,
+Is dearly bought ; 'tis mine and I will have it .
+If you deny me , fie upon your law !
+There is no force in the decrees of Venice .
+I stand for judgment : answer ; shall I have it ?
+
+Upon my power I may dismiss this court ,
+Unless Bellario , a learned doctor ,
+Whom I have sent for to determine this ,
+Come here to-day .
+
+My lord , here stays without
+A messenger with letters from the doctor ,
+New come from Padua .
+
+Bring us the letters : call the messenger .
+
+Good cheer , Antonio ! What , man , courage yet !
+The Jew shall have my flesh , blood , bones , and all ,
+Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood .
+
+I am a tainted wether of the flock ,
+Meetest for death : the weakest kind of fruit
+Drops earliest to the ground ; and so let me :
+You cannot better be employ'd , Bassanio ,
+Than to live still , and write mine epitaph .
+
+
+Came you from Padua , from Bellario ?
+
+From both , my lord . Bellario greets your Grace .
+
+
+Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly ?
+
+To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt there .
+
+Not on thy sole , but on thy soul , harsh Jew ,
+Thou mak'st thy knife keen ; but no metal can ,
+No , not the hangman's axe , bear half the keenness
+Of thy sharp envy . Can no prayers pierce thee ?
+
+No , none that thou hast wit enough to make .
+
+O , be thou damn'd , inexecrable dog !
+And for thy life let justice be accus'd .
+Thou almost mak'st me waver in my faith
+To hold opinion with Pythagoras ,
+That souls of animals infuse themselves
+Into the trunks of men : thy currish spirit
+Govern'd a wolf , who , hang'd for human slaughter ,
+Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet ,
+And whilst thou lay'st in thy unhallow'd dam ,
+Infus'd itself in thee ; for thy desires
+Are wolfish , bloody , starv'd , and ravenous .
+
+Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond ,
+Thou but offend'st thy lungs to speak so loud :
+Repair thy wit , good youth , or it will fall
+To cureless ruin . I stand here for law .
+
+This letter from Bellario doth commend
+A young and learned doctor to our court .
+Where is he ?
+
+He attendeth here hard by ,
+To know your answer , whether you'll admit him .
+
+With all my heart : some three or four of you
+Go give him courteous conduct to this place .
+Meantime , the court shall hear Bellario's letter .
+
+Your Grace shall understand that at the receipt of your letter I am very sick ; but in the instant that your messenger came , in loving visitation was with me a young doctor of Rome ; his name is Balthazar . I acquainted him with the cause in controversy between the Jew and Antonio the merchant : we turned o'er many books together : he is furnished with my opinion ; which , bettered with his own learning ,the greatness whereof I cannot enough commend ,comes with him , at my importunity , to fill up your Grace's request in my stead I beseech you , let his lack of years be no impediment to let him lack a reverend estimation , for I never knew so young a body with so old a head . I leave him to your gracious acceptance , whose trial shall better publish his commendation .
+
+You hear the learn'd Bellario , what he writes :
+And here , I take it , is the doctor come .
+
+Give me your hand . Came you from old Bellario ?
+
+I did , my lord .
+
+You are welcome : take your place .
+Are you acquainted with the difference
+That holds this present question in the court ?
+
+I am informed throughly of the cause .
+Which is the merchant here , and which the Jew ?
+
+Antonio and old Shylock , both stand forth .
+
+Is your name Shylock ?
+
+Shylock is my name .
+
+Of a strange nature is the suit you follow ;
+Yet in such rule that the Venetian law
+Cannot impugn you as you do proceed .
+
+
+You stand within his danger , do you not ?
+
+Ay , so he says .
+
+Do you confess the bond ?
+
+I do .
+
+Then must the Jew be merciful .
+
+On what compulsion must I ? tell me that .
+
+The quality of mercy is not strain'd ,
+It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
+Upon the place beneath : it is twice bless'd ;
+It blesseth him that gives and him that takes :
+'Tis mightiest in the mightiest ; it becomes
+The throned monarch better than his crown ;
+His sceptre shows the force of temporal power ,
+The attribute to awe and majesty ,
+Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings ;
+But mercy is above this sceptred sway ,
+It is enthroned in the hearts of kings ,
+It is an attribute to God himself ,
+And earthly power doth then show likest God's
+When mercy seasons justice . Therefore , Jew ,
+Though justice be thy plea , consider this ,
+That in the course of justice none of us
+Should see salvation : we do pray for mercy ,
+And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
+The deeds of mercy . I have spoke thus much
+To mitigate the justice of thy plea ,
+Which if thou follow , this strict court of Venice
+Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there .
+
+My deeds upon my head ! I crave the law ,
+The penalty and forfeit of my bond .
+
+Is he not able to discharge the money ?
+
+Yes , here I tender it for him in the court ;
+Yea , twice the sum : if that will not suffice ,
+I will be bound to pay it ten times o'er ,
+On forfeit of my hands , my head , my heart .
+If this will not suffice , it must appear
+That malice bears down truth . And , I beseech you ,
+Wrest once the law to your authority :
+To do a great right , do a little wrong ,
+And curb this cruel devil of his will .
+
+It must not be . There is no power in Venice
+Can alter a decree established :
+'Twill be recorded for a precedent ,
+And many an error by the same example
+Will rush into the state . It cannot be .
+
+A Daniel come to judgment ! yea , a Daniel !
+O wise young judge , how I do honour thee !
+
+I pray you , let me look upon the bond .
+
+Here 'tis , most reverend doctor ; here it is .
+
+Shylock , there's thrice thy money offer'd thee .
+
+An oath , an oath , I have an oath in heaven :
+Shall I lay perjury upon my soul ?
+No , not for Venice .
+
+Why , this bond is forfeit ;
+And lawfully by this the Jew may claim
+A pound of flesh , to be by him cut off
+Nearest the merchant's heart . Be merciful :
+Take thrice thy money ; bid me tear the bond .
+
+When it is paid according to the tenour .
+It doth appear you are a worthy judge ;
+You know the law , your exposition
+Hath been most sound : I charge you by the law ,
+Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar ,
+Proceed to judgment : by my soul I swear
+There is no power in the tongue of man
+To alter me . I stay here on my bond .
+
+Most heartily I do beseech the court
+To give the judgment .
+
+Why then , thus it is :
+You must prepare your bosom for his knife .
+
+O noble judge ! O excellent young man !
+
+For , the intent and purpose of the law
+Hath full relation to the penalty ,
+Which here appeareth due upon the bond .
+
+'Tis very true ! O wise and upright judge !
+How much more elder art thou than thy looks !
+
+Therefore lay bare your bosom .
+
+Ay , 'his breast :'
+So says the bond :doth it not , noble judge ?
+'Nearest his heart :' those are the very words .
+
+It is so . Are there balance here to weigh
+The flesh ?
+
+I have them ready .
+
+Have by some surgeon , Shylock , on your charge ,
+To stop his wounds , lest he do bleed to death .
+
+Is it so nominated in the bond ?
+
+It is not so express'd ; but what of that ?
+'Twere good you do so much for charity .
+
+I cannot find it : 'tis not in the bond .
+
+You , merchant , have you anything to say ?
+
+But little : I am arm'd and well prepar'd .
+Give me your hand , Bassanio : fare you well !
+Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you ;
+For herein Fortune shows herself more kind
+Than is her custom : it is still her use
+To let the wretched man outlive his wealth ,
+To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow
+An age of poverty ; from which lingering penance
+Of such a misery doth she cut me off .
+Commend me to your honourable wife :
+Tell her the process of Antonio's end ;
+Say how I lov'd you , speak me fair in death ;
+And , when the tale is told , bid her be judge
+Whether Bassanio had not once a love .
+Repent not you that you shall lose your friend ,
+And he repents not that he pays your debt ;
+For if the Jew do cut but deep enough ,
+I'll pay it instantly with all my heart .
+
+Antonio , I am married to a wife
+Which is as dear to me as life itself ;
+But life itself , my wife , and all the world ,
+Are not with me esteem'd above thy life :
+I would lose all , ay , sacrifice them all ,
+Here to this devil , to deliver you .
+
+Your wife would give you little thanks for that ,
+If she were by to hear you make the offer .
+
+I have a wife , whom , I protest , I love :
+I would she were in heaven , so she could
+Entreat some power to change this currish Jew .
+
+'Tis well you offer it behind her back ;
+The wish would make else an unquiet house .
+
+These be the Christian husbands ! I have a daughter ;
+Would any of the stock of Barabbas
+Had been her husband rather than a Christian !
+We trifle time ; I pray thee , pursue sentence .
+
+A pound of that same merchant's flesh is thine :
+The court awards it , and the law doth give it .
+
+Most rightful judge !
+
+And you must cut this flesh from off his breast :
+The law allows it , and the court awards it .
+
+Most learned judge ! A sentence ! come , prepare !
+
+Tarry a little : there is something else .
+This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood ;
+The words expressly are 'a pound of flesh :'
+Then take thy bond , take thou thy pound of flesh ;
+But , in the cutting it , if thou dost shed
+One drop of Christian blood , thy lands and goods
+Are , by the laws of Venice , confiscate
+Unto the state of Venice .
+
+O upright judge ! Mark , Jew : O learned judge !
+
+Is that the law ?
+
+Thyself shalt see the act ;
+For , as thou urgest justice , be assur'd
+Thou shalt have justice , more than thou desir'st .
+
+O learned judge ! Mark , Jew : a learned judge !
+
+I take this offer then : pay the bond thrice ,
+And let the Christian go .
+
+Here is the money .
+
+Soft !
+The Jew shall have all justice ; soft ! no haste :
+He shall have nothing but the penalty .
+
+O Jew ! an upright judge , a learned judge !
+
+Therefore prepare thee to cut off the flesh .
+Shed thou no blood ; nor cut thou less , nor more ,
+But just a pound of flesh : if thou tak'st more ,
+Or less , than a just pound , be it but so much
+As makes it light or heavy in the substance ,
+Or the division of the twentieth part
+Of one poor scruple , nay , if the scale do turn
+But in the estimation of a hair ,
+Thou diest and all thy goods are confiscate .
+
+A second Daniel , a Daniel , Jew !
+Now , infidel , I have thee on the hip .
+
+Why doth the Jew pause ? take thy forfeiture .
+
+Give me my principal , and let me go .
+
+I have it ready for thee ; here it is .
+
+He hath refus'd it in the open court :
+He shall have merely justice , and his bond .
+
+A Daniel , still say I ; a second Daniel !
+I thank thee , Jew , for teaching me that word .
+
+Shall I not have barely my principal ?
+
+Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture ,
+To be so taken at thy peril , Jew .
+
+Why , then the devil give him good of it !
+I'll stay no longer question .
+
+Tarry , Jew :
+The law hath yet another hold on you .
+It is enacted in the laws of Venice ,
+If it be prov'd against an alien
+That by direct or indirect attempts
+He seek the life of any citizen ,
+The party 'gainst the which he doth contrive
+Shall seize one half his goods ; the other half
+Comes to the privy coffer of the state ;
+And the offender's life lies in the mercy
+Of the duke only , 'gainst all other voice .
+In which predicament , I say , thou stand'st ;
+For it appears by manifest proceeding ,
+That indirectly and directly too
+Thou hast contriv'd against the very life
+Of the defendant ; and thou hast incurr'd
+The danger formerly by me rehears'd .
+Down therefore and beg mercy of the duke .
+
+Beg that thou mayst have leave to hang thyself :
+And yet , thy wealth being forfeit to the state ,
+Thou hast not left the value of a cord ;
+Therefore thou must be hang'd at the state's charge .
+
+That thou shalt see the difference of our spirits ,
+I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it .
+For half thy wealth , it is Antonio's ;
+The other half comes to the general state ,
+Which humbleness may drive into a fine .
+
+Ay , for the state ; not for Antonio .
+
+Nay , take my life and all ; pardon not that :
+You take my house when you do take the prop
+That doth sustain my house ; you take my life
+When you do take the means whereby I live .
+
+What mercy can you render him , Antonio ?
+
+A halter gratis ; nothing else , for God's sake !
+
+So please my lord the duke , and all the court ,
+To quit the fine for one half of his goods ,
+I am content ; so he will let me have
+The other half in use , to render it ,
+Upon his death , unto the gentleman
+That lately stole his daughter :
+Two things provided more , that , for this favour ,
+He presently become a Christian ;
+The other , that he do record a gift ,
+Here in the court , of all he dies possess'd ,
+Unto his son Lorenzo , and his daughter .
+
+He shall do this , or else I do recant
+The pardon that I late pronounced here .
+
+Art thou contented , Jew ? what dost thou say ?
+
+I am content .
+
+Clerk , draw a deed of gift .
+
+I pray you give me leave to go from hence :
+I am not well . Send the deed after me ,
+And I will sign it .
+
+Get thee gone , but do it .
+
+In christening thou shalt have two godfathers ;
+Had I been judge , thou shouldst have had ten more ,
+To bring thee to the gallows , not the font .
+
+
+Sir , I entreat you home with me to dinner .
+
+I humbly do desire your Grace of pardon :
+I must away this night toward Padua ,
+And it is meet I presently set forth .
+
+I am sorry that your leisure serves you not .
+Antonio , gratify this gentleman ,
+For , in my mind , you are much bound to him .
+
+
+Most worthy gentleman , I and my friend
+Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted
+Of grievous penalties ; in lieu whereof ,
+Three thousand ducats , due unto the Jew ,
+We freely cope your courteous pains withal .
+
+And stand indebted , over and above ,
+In love and service to you evermore .
+
+He is well paid that is well satisfied ;
+And I , delivering you , am satisfied ,
+And therein do account myself well paid :
+My mind was never yet more mercenary .
+I pray you , know me when we meet again :
+I wish you well , and so I take my leave .
+
+Dear sir , of force I must attempt you further :
+Take some remembrance of us , as a tribute ,
+Not as a fee . Grant me two things , I pray you ,
+Not to deny me , and to pardon me .
+
+You press me far , and therefore I will yield .
+
+
+Give me your gloves , I'll wear them for your sake ;
+
+
+And , for your love , I'll take this ring from you .
+Do not draw back your hand ; I'll take no more ;
+And you in love shall not deny me this .
+
+This ring , good sir ? alas ! it is a trifle ;
+I will not shame myself to give you this .
+
+I will have nothing else but only this ;
+And now methinks I have a mind to it .
+
+There's more depends on this than on the value .
+The dearest ring in Venice will I give you ,
+And find it out by proclamation :
+Only for this , I pray you , pardon me .
+
+I see , sir , you are liberal in offers :
+You taught me first to beg , and now methinks
+You teach me how a beggar should be answer'd .
+
+Good sir , this ring was given me by my wife ;
+And , when she put it on , she made me vow
+That I should never sell nor give nor lose it .
+
+That 'scuse serves many men to save their gifts .
+An if your wife be not a mad-woman ,
+And know how well I have deserv'd the ring ,
+She would not hold out enemy for ever ,
+For giving it to me . Well , peace be with you .
+
+
+My Lord Bassanio , let him have the ring :
+Let his deservings and my love withal
+Be valu'd 'gainst your wife's commandment .
+
+Go , Gratiano ; run and overtake him ;
+Give him the ring , and bring him , if thou canst ,
+Unto Antonio's house . Away ! make haste .
+
+Come , you and I will thither presently ,
+And in the morning early will we both
+Fly toward Belmont . Come , Antonio .
+
+
+Inquire the Jew's house out , give him this deed ,
+And let him sign it . We'll away to-night ,
+And be a day before our husbands home :
+This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo .
+
+
+Fair sir , you are well o'erta'en .
+My Lord Bassanio upon more advice
+Hath sent you here this ring , and doth entreat
+Your company at dinner .
+
+That cannot be :
+His ring I do accept most thankfully ;
+And so , I pray you , tell him : furthermore ,
+I pray you , show my youth old Shylock's house .
+
+That will I do .
+
+Sir , I would speak with you .
+
+
+I'll see if I can get my husband's ring ,
+Which I did make him swear to keep for ever .
+
+Thou mayst , I warrant . We shall have old swearing
+That they did give the rings away to men ;
+But we'll outface them , and outswear them too .
+Away ! make haste : thou know'st where I will tarry .
+
+Come , good sir , will you show me to this house ?
+
+The moon shines bright : in such a night as this ,
+When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees
+And they did make no noise , in such a night
+Troilus methinks mounted the Troyan walls ,
+And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents ,
+Where Cressid lay that night .
+
+In such a night
+Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew ,
+And saw the lion's shadow ere himself ,
+And ran dismay'd away .
+
+In such a night
+Stood Dido with a willow in her hand
+Upon the wild sea-banks , and waft her love
+To come again to Carthage .
+
+In such a night
+Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs
+That did renew old son .
+
+In such a night
+Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew ,
+And with an unthrift love did run from Venice ,
+As far as Belmont .
+
+In such a night
+Did young Lorenzo swear he lov'd her well ,
+Stealing her soul with many vows of faith ,
+And ne'er a true one .
+
+In such a night
+Did pretty Jessica , like a little shrew ,
+Slander her love , and he forgave it her .
+
+I would out-night you , did no body come ;
+But , hark ! I hear the footing of a man .
+
+
+Who comes so fast in silence of the night ?
+
+A friend .
+
+A friend ! what friend ? your name , I pray you , friend .
+
+Stephano is my name ; and I bring word
+My mistress will before the break of day
+Be here at Belmont : she doth stray about
+By holy crosses , where she kneels and prays
+For happy wedlock hours .
+
+Who comes with her ?
+
+None , but a holy hermit and her maid .
+I pray you , is my master yet return'd ?
+
+He is not , nor we have not heard from him .
+But go we in , I pray thee , Jessica ,
+And ceremoniously let us prepare
+Some welcome for the mistress of the house .
+
+
+Sola , sola ! wo ha , ho ! sola , sola !
+
+Who calls ?
+
+Sola ! did you see Master Lorenzo ?
+Master Lorenzo ! sola , sola !
+
+Leave hollaing , man ; here .
+
+Sola ! where ? where ?
+
+Here .
+
+Tell him there's a post come from my master , with his horn full of good news : my master will be here ere morning .
+
+
+Sweet soul , let's in , and there expect their coming .
+And yet no matter ; why should we go in ?
+My friend Stephano , signify , I pray you ,
+Within the house , your mistress is at hand ;
+And bring your music forth into the air .
+
+How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank !
+Here will we sit , and let the sounds of music
+Creep in our ears : soft stillness and the night
+Become the touches of sweet harmony .
+Sit , Jessica : look , how the floor of heaven
+Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold :
+There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st
+But in his motion like an angel sings ,
+Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins ;
+Such harmony is in immortal souls ;
+But , whilst this muddy vesture of decay
+Doth grossly close it in , we cannot hear it .
+
+Come , ho ! and wake Diana with a hymn :
+With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear ,
+And draw her home with music .
+
+
+I am never merry when I hear sweet music .
+
+The reason is , your spirits are attentive :
+For do but note a wild and wanton herd ,
+Or race of youthful and unhandled colts ,
+Fetching mad bounds , bellowing and neighing loud ,
+Which is the hot condition of their blood ;
+If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound ,
+Or any air of music touch their ears ,
+You shall perceive them make a mutual stand ,
+Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze
+By the sweet power of music : therefore the poet
+Did feign that Orpheus drew trees , stones , and floods ;
+Since nought so stockish , hard , and full of rage ,
+But music for the time doth change his nature .
+The man that hath no music in himself ,
+Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds ,
+Is fit for treasons , stratagems , and spoils ;
+The motions of his spirit are dull as night ,
+And his affections dark as Erebus :
+Let no such man be trusted . Mark the music .
+
+
+That light we see is burning in my hall .
+How far that little candle throws his beams !
+So shines a good deed in a naughty world .
+
+When the moon shone , we did not see the candle .
+
+So doth the greater glory dim the less :
+A substitute shines brightly as a king
+Until a king be by , and then his state
+Empties itself , as doth an inland brook
+Into the main of waters . Music ! hark !
+
+It is your music , madam , of the house .
+
+Nothing is good , I see , without respect :
+Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day .
+
+Silence bestows that virtue on it , madam .
+
+The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark
+When neither is attended , and I think
+The nightingale , if she should sing by day ,
+When every goose is cackling , would be thought
+No better a musician than the wren .
+How many things by season season'd are
+To their right praise and true perfection !
+Peace , ho ! the moon sleeps with Endymion ,
+And would not be awak'd !
+
+
+That is the voice ,
+Or I am much deceiv'd , of Portia .
+
+He knows me , as the blind man knows the cuckoo ,
+By the bad voice .
+
+Dear lady , welcome home .
+
+We have been praying for our husbands' welfare ,
+Which speed , we hope , the better for our words .
+Are they return'd ?
+
+Madam , they are not yet ;
+But there is come a messenger before ,
+To signify their coming .
+
+Go in , Nerissa :
+Give order to my servants that they take
+No note at all of our being absent hence ;
+Nor you , Lorenzo ; Jessica , nor you .
+
+
+Your husband is at hand ; I hear his trumpet :
+We are no tell-tales , madam ; fear you not .
+
+This night methinks is but the daylight sick ;
+It looks a little paler : 'tis a day ,
+Such as the day is when the sun is hid .
+
+
+We should hold day with the Antipodes ,
+If you would walk in absence of the sun .
+
+Let me give light , but let me not be light ;
+For a light wife doth make a heavy husband ,
+And never be Bassanio so for me :
+But God sort all ! You are welcome home , my lord .
+
+I thank you , madam . Give welcome to my friend :
+This is the man , this is Antonio ,
+To whom I am so infinitely bound .
+
+You should in all sense be much bound to him ,
+For , as I hear , he was much bound for you .
+
+No more than I am well acquitted of .
+
+Sir , you are very welcome to our house :
+It must appear in other ways than words ,
+Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy .
+
+By yonder moon I swear you do me wrong ;
+In faith , I gave it to the judge's clerk :
+Would he were gelt that had it , for my part ,
+Since you do take it , love , so much at heart .
+
+A quarrel , ho , already ! what's the matter ?
+
+About a hoop of gold , a paltry ring
+That she did give me , whose poesy was
+For all the world like cutlers' poetry
+Upon a knife , 'Love me , and leave me not .'
+
+What talk you of the posy , or the value ?
+You swore to me , when I did give it you ,
+That you would wear it till your hour of death ,
+And that it should lie with you in your grave :
+Though not for me , yet for your vehement oaths ,
+You should have been respective and have kept it .
+Gave it a judge's clerk ! no , God's my judge ,
+The clerk will ne'er wear hair on's face that had it .
+
+He will , an if he live to be a man .
+
+Ay , if a woman live to be a man .
+
+Now , by this hand , I gave it to a youth ,
+A kind of boy , a little scrubbed boy ,
+No higher than thyself , the judge's clerk .
+A prating boy , that begg'd it as a fee :
+I could not for my heart deny it him .
+
+You were to blame ,I must be plain with you ,
+To part so slightly with your wife's first gift ;
+A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger ,
+And riveted so with faith unto your flesh .
+I gave my love a ring and made him swear
+Never to part with it ; and here he stands ,
+I dare be sworn for him he would not leave it
+Nor pluck it from his finger for the wealth
+That the world masters . Now , in faith , Gratiano ,
+You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief :
+An 'twere to me , I should be mad at it .
+
+Why , I were best to cut my left hand off ,
+And swear I lost the ring defending it .
+
+My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away
+Unto the judge that begg'd it , and indeed
+Deserv'd it too ; and then the boy , his clerk ,
+That took some pains in writing , he begg'd mine ;
+And neither man nor master would take aught
+But the two rings .
+
+What ring gave you , my lord ?
+Not that , I hope , that you receiv'd of me .
+
+If I could add a lie unto a fault ,
+I would deny it ; but you see my finger
+Hath not the ring upon it ; it is gone .
+
+Even so void is your false heart of truth .
+By heaven , I will ne'er come in your bed
+Until I see the ring .
+
+Nor I in yours ,
+Till I again see mine .
+
+Sweet Portia ,
+If you did know to whom I gave the ring ,
+If you did know for whom I gave the ring ,
+And would conceive for what I gave the ring ,
+And how unwillingly I left the ring ,
+When naught would be accepted but the ring ,
+You would abate the strength of your displeasure .
+
+If you had known the virtue of the ring ,
+Or half her worthiness that gave the ring ,
+Or your own honour to contain the ring ,
+You would not then have parted with the ring .
+What man is there so much unreasonable ,
+If you had pleas'd to have defended it
+With any terms of zeal , wanted the modesty
+To urge the thing held as a ceremony ?
+Nerissa teaches me what to believe :
+I'll die for't but some woman had the ring .
+
+No , by my honour , madam , by my soul ,
+No woman had it ; but a civil doctor ,
+Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me ,
+And begg'd the ring , the which I did deny him ,
+And suffer'd him to go displeas'd away ;
+Even he that did uphold the very life
+Of my dear friend . What should I say , sweet lady ?
+I was enforc'd to send it after him ;
+I was beset with shame and courtesy ;
+My honour would not let ingratitude
+So much besmear it . Pardon me , good lady ,
+For , by these blessed candles of the night ,
+Had you been there , I think you would have begg'd
+The ring of me to give the worthy doctor .
+
+Let not that doctor e'er come near my house .
+Since he hath got the jewel that I lov'd ,
+And that which you did swear to keep for me ,
+I will become as liberal as you ;
+I'll not deny him anything I have ;
+No , not my body , nor my husband's bed .
+Know him I shall , I am well sure of it :
+Lie not a night from home ; watch me like Argus :
+If you do not , if I be left alone ,
+Now by mine honour , which is yet mine own ,
+I'll have that doctor for my bedfellow .
+
+And I his clerk ; therefore be well advis'd
+How you do leave me to mine own protection .
+
+Well , do you so : let me not take him , then ;
+For if I do , I'll mar the young clerk's pen .
+
+I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels .
+
+Sir , grieve not you ; you are welcome notwithstanding .
+
+Portia , forgive me this enforced wrong ;
+And in the hearing of these many friends ,
+I swear to thee , even by thine own fair eyes ,
+Wherein I see myself ,
+
+Mark you but that !
+In both my eyes he doubly sees himself ;
+In each eye , one : swear by your double self ,
+And there's an oath of credit .
+
+Nay , but hear me :
+Pardon this fault , and by my soul I swear
+I never more will break an oath with thee .
+
+I once did lend my body for his wealth ,
+Which , but for him that had your husband's ring ,
+Had quite miscarried : I dare be bound again ,
+My soul upon the forfeit , that your lord
+Will never more break faith advisedly .
+
+Then you shall be his surety . Give him this ,
+And bid him keep it better than the other .
+
+Here , Lord Bassanio ; swear to keep this ring .
+
+By heaven ! it is the same I gave the doctor !
+
+I had it of him : pardon me , Bassanio ,
+For , by this ring , the doctor lay with me .
+
+And pardon me , my gentle Gratiano ;
+For that same scrubbed boy , the doctor's clerk ,
+In lieu of this last night did lie with me .
+
+Why , this is like the mending of highways
+In summer , where the ways are fair enough .
+What ! are we cuckolds ere we have deserv'd it ?
+
+Speak not so grossly . You are all amaz'd :
+Here is a letter ; read it at your leisure ;
+It comes from Padus , from Bellario :
+There you shall find that Portia was the doctor ,
+Nerissa , there , her clerk : Lorenzo here
+Shall witness I set forth as soon as you
+And even but now return'd ; I have not yet
+Enter'd my house . Antonio , you are welcome ;
+And I have better news in store for you
+Than you expect : unseal this letter soon ;
+There you shall find three of your argosies
+Are richly come to harbour suddenly .
+You shall not know by what strange accident
+I chanced on this letter .
+
+I am dumb .
+
+Were you the doctor and I knew you not ?
+
+Were you the clerk that is to make me cuckold ?
+
+Ay ; but the clerk that never means to do it ,
+Unless he live until he be a man .
+
+Sweet doctor , you shall be my bedfellow :
+When I am absent , then , lie with my wife .
+
+Sweet lady , you have given me life and living ;
+For here I read for certain that my ships
+Are safely come to road .
+
+How now , Lorenzo !
+My clerk hath some good comforts too for you .
+
+Ay , and I'll give them him without a fee .
+There do I give to you and Jessica ,
+From the rich Jew , a special deed of gift ,
+After his death , of all he dies possess'd of .
+
+Fair ladies , you drop manna in the way
+Of starved people .
+
+It is almost morning ,
+And yet I am sure you are not satisfied
+Of these events at full . Let us go in ;
+And charge us there upon inter'gatories ,
+And we will answer all things faithfully .
+
+Let it be so : the first inter'gatory
+That my Nerissa shall be sworn on is ,
+Whe'r till the next night she had rather stay ,
+Or go to bed now , being two hours to day :
+But were the day come , I should wish it dark ,
+That I were couching with the doctor's clerk .
+Well , while I live I'll fear no other thing
+So sore as keeping safe Nerissa's ring .
+
+THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR
+
+Sir Hugh , persuade me not ; I will make a Star-chamber matter of it ; if he were twenty Sir John Falstaffs he shall not abuse Robert Shallow , esquire .
+
+In the county of Gloster , justice of peace , and coram .
+
+Ay , cousin Slender , and cust-alorum .
+
+Ay , and rato-lorum too ; and a gentleman born , Master Parson ; who writes himself armigero , in any bill , warrant , quittance , or obligation ,armigero .
+
+Ay , that I do ; and have done any time these three hundred years .
+
+All his successors gone before him hath done't ; and all his ancestors that come after him may : they may give the dozen white luces in their coat .
+
+It is an old coat .
+
+The dozen white louses do become an old coat well ; it agrees well , passant ; it is a familiar beast to man , and signifies love .
+
+The luce is the fresh fish ; the salt fish is an old coat .
+
+I may quarter , coz ?
+
+You may , by marrying .
+
+It is marring indeed , if he quarter it .
+
+Not a whit .
+
+Yes , py'r lady ; if he has a quarter of your coat , there is but three skirts for yourself , in my simple conjectures : but that is all one . If Sir John Falstaff have committed disparagements unto you , I am of the Church , and will be glad to do my benevolence to make atonements and compremises between you .
+
+The Council shall hear it ; it is a riot .
+
+It is not meet the Council hear a riot ; there is no fear of Got in a riot . The Council , look you , shall desire to hear the fear of Got , and not to hear a riot ; take your vizaments in that .
+
+Ha ! o' my life , if I were young again , the sword should end it .
+
+It is petter that friends is the sword , and end it ; and there is also another device in my prain , which , peradventure , prings goot discretions with it . There is Anne Page , which is daughter to Master Thomas Page , which is pretty virginity .
+
+Mistress Anne Page ? She has brown hair , and speaks small like a woman .
+
+It is that fery person for all the orld , as just as you will desire ; and seven hundred pounds of moneys , and gold and silver , is her grandsire , upon his death's-bed ,Got deliver to a joyful resurrections !give , when she is able to overtake seventeen years old . It were a goot motion if we leave our pribbles and prabbles , and desire a marriage between Master Abraham and Mistress Anne Page .
+
+Did her grandsire leave her seven hundred pound ?
+
+Ay , and her father is make her a petter penny .
+
+I know the young gentlewoman ; she has good gifts .
+
+Seven hundred pounds and possibilities is goot gifts .
+
+Well , let us see honest Master Page . Is Falstaff there ?
+
+Shall I tell you a lie ? I do despise a har as I do despise one that is false ; or as I despise one that is not true . The knight , Sir John , is there ; and , I beseech you , be ruled by your well-willers . I will peat the door for Master Page .
+
+What , hoa ! Got pless your house here !
+
+Who's there ?
+
+Here is Got's plessing , and your friend . and Justice Shallow ; and here young Master Slender , that peradventures shall tell you another tale , if matters grow to your likings .
+
+
+I am glad to see your worships well . I thank you for my venison , Master Shallow .
+
+Master Page , I am glad to see you : much good do it your good heart ! I wished your venison better ; it was ill killed . How doth good Mistress Page ?and I thank you always with my heart , la ! with my heart .
+
+Sir , I thank you .
+
+Sir , I thank you ; by yea and no , I do .
+
+I am glad to see you , good Master Slender .
+
+How does your fallow greyhound , sir ? I heard say he was outrun on Cotsall .
+
+It could not be judged , sir .
+
+You'll not confess , you'll not confess .
+
+That he will not : 'tis your fault , 'tis your fault . 'Tis a good dog .
+
+A cur , sir .
+
+Sir , he's a good dog , and a fair dog ; can there be more said ? he is good and fair . Is Sir John Falstaff here ?
+
+Sir , he is within ; and I would I could do a good office between you .
+
+It is spoke as a Christians ought to speak .
+
+He hath wronged me , Master Page .
+
+Sir , he doth in some sort confess it .
+
+If it be confessed , it is not redressed : is not that so , Master Page ? He hath wronged me ; indeed , he hath ;at a word , he hath ,believe me : Robert Shallow , esquire , saith , he is wronged .
+
+Here comes Sir John .
+
+
+Now , Master Shallow , you'll complain of me to the king ?
+
+Knight , you have beaten my men , killed my deer , and broke open my lodge .
+
+But not kissed your keeper's daughter ?
+
+Tut , a pin ! this shall be answered .
+
+I will answer it straight : I have done all this . That is now answered .
+
+The Council shall know this .
+
+'Twere better for you if it were known in counsel : you'll be laughed at .
+
+Pauca verba , Sir John ; goot worts .
+
+Good worts ! good cabbage . Slender , I broke your head : what matter have you against me ?
+
+Marry , sir , I have matter in my head against you ; and against your cony-catching rascals , Bardolph , Nym , and Pistol . They carried me to the tavern , and made me drunk , and afterwards picked my pocket .
+
+You Banbury cheese !
+
+Ay , it is no matter .
+
+How now , Mephistophilus !
+
+Ay , it is no matter .
+
+Slice , I say ! pauca , pauca ; slice ! that's my humour .
+
+Where's Simple , my man ? can you tell , cousin ?
+
+Peace , I pray you . Now let us understand : there is three umpires in this matter , as I understand ; that is Master Page , fidelicet , Master Page ; and there is myself , fidelicet , myself ; and the three party is , lastly and finally , mine host of the Garter .
+
+We three , to hear it and end it between them .
+
+Fery goot : I will make a prief of it in my note-book ; and we will afterwards ork upon the cause with as great discreetly as we can .
+
+Pistol !
+
+He hears with ears .
+
+The tevil and his tam ! what phrase is this , 'He hears with ear ?' Why , it is affectations .
+
+Pistol , did you pick Master Slender's purse ?
+
+Ay , by these gloves , did he ,or I would I might never come in mine own great chamber again else ,of seven groats in mill-sixpences , and two Edward shovel-boards , that cost me two shilling and two pence a-piece of Yead Miller , by these gloves .
+
+Is this true , Pistol ?
+
+No ; it is false , if it is a pick-purse .
+
+Ha , thou mountain foreigner !Sir John and master mine ,
+I combat challenge of this latten bilbo .
+Word of denial in thy labras here !
+Word of denial : froth and scum , thou liest .
+
+By these gloves , then , 'twas he .
+
+Be avised , sir , and pass good humours . I will say , 'marry trap ,' with you , if you run the nuthook's humour on me : that is the very note of it .
+
+By this hat , then , he in the red face had it ; for though I cannot remember what I did when you made me drunk , yet I am not altogether an ass .
+
+What say you , Scarlet and John ?
+
+Why , sir , for my part , I say , the gentleman had drunk himself out of his five sentences .
+
+It is his 'five senses ;' fie , what the ignorance is !
+
+And being fap , sir , was , as they say , cashier'd ; and so conclusions pass'd the careires .
+
+Ay , you spake in Latin then too ; but 'tis no matter . I'll ne'er be drunk whilst I live again , but in honest , civil , godly company , for this trick : if I be drunk , I'll be drunk with those that have the fear of God , and not with drunken knaves .
+
+So Got udge me , that is a virtuous mind .
+
+You hear all these matters denied , gentlemen ; you hear it .
+
+
+Nay , daughter , carry the wine in ; we'll drink within .
+
+
+O heaven ! this is Mistress Anne Page .
+
+How now , Mistress Ford !
+
+Mistress Ford , by my troth , you are very well met : by your leave , good mistress .
+
+
+Wife , bid these gentlemen welcome . Come , we have a hot venison pasty to dinner : come , gentlemen , I hope we shall drink down all unkindness .
+
+
+I had rather than forty shillings I had my Book of Songs and Sonnets here .
+
+How now , Simple ! Where have you been ? I must wait on myself , must I ? You have not the Book of Riddles about you , have you ?
+
+Book of Riddles ! why , did you not lend it to Alice Shortcake upon All-Hallowmas last , a fortnight afore Michaelmas ?
+
+Come , coz ; come , coz ; we stay for you . A word with you , coz ; marry , this , coz : there is , as 'twere a tender , a kind of tender , made afar off by Sir Hugh here : do you understand me ?
+
+Ay , sir , you shall find me reasonable : if it be so , I shall do that that is reason .
+
+Nay , but understand me .
+
+So I do , sir .
+
+Give ear to his motions , Master Slender : I will description the matter to you , if you pe capacity of it .
+
+Nay , I will do as my cousin Shallow says . I pray you pardon me ; he's a justice of peace in his country , simple though I stand here .
+
+But that is not the question ; the question is concerning your marriage .
+
+Ay , there's the point , sir .
+
+Marry , is it , the very point of it ; to Mistress Anne Page .
+
+Why , if it be so , I will marry her upon any reasonable demands .
+
+But can you affection the 'oman ? Let us command to know that of your mouth or of your lips ; for divers philosophers hold that the lips is parcel of the mouth : therefore , precisely , can you carry your good will to the maid ?
+
+Cousin Abraham Slender , can you love her ?
+
+I hope , sir , I will do as it shall become one that would do reason .
+
+Nay , Got's lords and his ladies ! you must speak possitable , if you can carry her your desires towards her .
+
+That you must . Will you , upon good dowry , marry her ?
+
+I will do a greater thing than that , upon your request , cousin , in any reason .
+
+Nay , conceive me , conceive me , sweet coz : what I do , is to pleasure you , coz . Can you love the maid ?
+
+I will marry her , sir , at your request ; but if there be no great love in the beginning , yet heaven may decrease it upon better acquaintance , when we are married and have more occasion to know one another : I hope , upon familiarity will grow more contempt : but if you say , 'Marry her ,' I will marry her ; that I am freely dissolved , and dissolutely .
+
+It is a fery discretion answer ; save , the faul is in the ort 'dissolutely :' the ort is , according to our meaning , 'resolutely .' His meaning is goot .
+
+Ay , I think my cousin meant well .
+
+Ay , or else I would I might be hanged , la !
+
+Here comes fair Mistress Anne .
+
+Would I were young for your sake , Mistress Anne .
+
+The dinner is on the table ; my father desires your worships' company .
+
+I will wait on him , fair Mistress Anne .
+
+Od's plessed will ! I will not be absence at the grace .
+
+
+Will't please your worship to come in , sir ?
+
+No , I thank you , forsooth , heartily ; I am very well .
+
+The dinner attends you , sir .
+
+I am not a-hungry , I thank you forsooth . Go , sirrah , for all you are my man , go wait upon my cousin Shallow .
+
+A justice of peace sometime may be beholding to his friend for a man . I keep but three men and a boy yet , till my mother be dead ; but what though ? yet I live like a poor gentleman born .
+
+I may not go in without your worship : they will not sit till you come .
+
+I' faith , I'll eat nothing ; I thank you as much as though I did .
+
+I pray you , sir , walk in .
+
+I had rather walk here , I thank you . I bruised my shin th' other day with playing at sword and dagger with a master of fence ; three veneys for a dish of stewed prunes ;and , by my troth , I cannot abide the smell of hot meat since . Why do your dogs bark so ? be there bears i' the town ?
+
+I think there are , sir ; I heard them talked of .
+
+I love the sport well ; but I shall as soon quarrel at it as any man in England . You are afraid , if you see the bear loose , are you not ?
+
+Ay , indeed , sir .
+
+That's meat and drink to me , now : I have seen Sackerson loose twenty times , and have taken him by the chain ; but , I warrant you , the women have so cried and shrieked at it , that it passed : but women , indeed , cannot abide 'em ; they are very ill-favoured rough things .
+
+
+Come , gentle Master Slender , come ; we stay for you .
+
+I'll eat nothing , I thank you , sir .
+
+By cock and pie , you shall not choose , sir ! come , come .
+
+Nay , pray you , lead the way .
+
+Come on , sir .
+
+Mistress Anne , yourself shall go first .
+
+Not I , sir ; pray you , keep on .
+
+Truly , I will not go first : truly , la ! I will not do you that wrong .
+
+I pray you , sir .
+
+I'll rather be unmannerly than troublesome . You do yourself wrong , indeed , la !
+
+
+Go your ways , and ask of Doctor Caius' house , which is the way : and there dwells one Mistress Quickly , which is in the manner of his nurse , or his try nurse , or his cook , or his laundry , his washer , and his wringer .
+
+Well , sir .
+
+Nay , it is petter yet . Give her this letter ; for it is a 'oman that altogether's acquaintance with Mistress Anne Page : and the letter is , to desire and require her to solicit your master's desires to Mistress Anne Page . I pray you , be gone : I will make an end of my dinner ; there's pippins and seese to come .
+
+
+Mine host of the Garter !
+
+What says my bully-rook ? Speak scholarly and wisely .
+
+Truly , mine host , I must turn away some of my followers .
+
+Discard , bully Hercules ; cashier : let them wag ; trot , trot .
+
+I sit at ten pounds a week .
+
+Thou'rt an emperor , C sar , Keisar , and Pheezar . I will entertain Bardolph ; he shall draw , he shall tap : said I well , bully Hector ?
+
+Do so , good mine host .
+
+I have spoke ; let him follow .
+
+Let me see thee forth and lime : I am at a word ; follow .
+
+
+Bardolph , follow him . A tapster is a good trade : an old cloak makes a new jerkin ; a withered serving-man , a fresh tapster . Go ; adieu .
+
+It is a life that I have desired . I will thrive .
+
+O base Hungarian wight ! wilt thou the spigot wield ?
+
+
+He was gotten in drink ; is not the humour conceited ?
+
+I am glad I am so acquit of this tinderbox ; his thefts were too open ; his filching was like an unskilful singer ; he kept not time .
+
+The good humour is to steal at a minim's rest .
+
+'Convey ,' the wise it call . 'Steal !' foh ! a fico for the phrase !
+
+Well , sirs , I am almost out at heels .
+
+Why , then , let kibes ensue .
+
+There is no remedy ; I must conycatch , I must shift .
+
+Young ravens must have food .
+
+Which of you know Ford of this town ?
+
+I ken the wight : he is of substance good .
+
+My honest lads , I will tell you what I am about .
+
+Two yards , and more .
+
+No quips now , Pistol ! Indeed , I am in the waist two yards about ; but I am now about no waste ; I am about thrift . Briefly , I do mean to make love to Ford's wife : I spy entertainment in her ; she discourses , she carves , she gives the leer of invitation : I can construe the action of her familiar style ; and the hardest voice of her behaviour , to be Englished rightly , is , 'I am Sir John Falstaff's .'
+
+He hath studied her well , and translated her well , out of honesty into English .
+
+The anchor is deep : will that humour pass ?
+
+Now , the report goes she has all the rule of her husband's purse ; he hath a legion of angels .
+
+As many devils entertain , and 'To her , boy ,' say I .
+
+The humour rises ; it is good : humour me the angels .
+
+I have writ me here a letter to her ; and here another to Page's wife , who even now gave me good eyes too , examined my parts with most judicious illiades : sometimes the beam of her view gilded my foot , sometimes my portly belly .
+
+Then did the sun on dunghill shine .
+
+I thank thee for that humour .
+
+O ! she did so course o'er my exteriors with such a greedy intention , that the appetite of her eye did seem to scorch me up like a burning-glass . Here's another letter to her : she bears the purse too ; she is a region in Guiana , all gold and bounty . I will be 'cheator to them both , and they shall be exchequers to me : they shall be my East and West Indies , and I will trade to them both . Go bear thou this letter to Mistress Page ; and thou this to Mistress Ford . We will thrive , lads , we will thrive .
+
+Shall I Sir Pandarus of Troy become ,
+And by my side wear steel ? then , Lucifer take all !
+
+I will run no base humour : here , take the humour-letter . I will keep the haviour of reputation .
+
+Hold , sirrah , bear you these letters tightly :
+Sail like my pinnace to these golden shores .
+Rogues , hence ! avaunt ! vanish like hailstones , go ;
+Trudge , plod away o'the hoof ; seek shelter , pack !
+Falstaff will learn the humour of this age ,
+French thrift , you rogues : myself and skirted page .
+
+
+Let vultures gripe thy guts ! for gourd and fullam holds ,
+And high and low beguile the rich and poor .
+Tester I'll have in pouch when thou shalt lack ,
+Base Phrygian Turk !
+
+I have operations in my head , which be humours of revenge .
+
+Wilt thou revenge ?
+
+By welkin and her star !
+
+With wit or steel ?
+
+With both the humours , I :
+I will discuss the humour of this love to Page .
+
+
+And I to Ford shall eke unfold
+How Falstaff , varlet vile ,
+His dove will prove , his gold will hold ,
+And his soft couch defile .
+
+
+My humour shall not cool : I will incense Page to deal with poison ; I will possess him with yellowness , for the revolt of mine is dangerous : that is my true humour .
+
+Thou art the Mars of malcontents : I second thee ; troop on .
+
+
+What , John Rugby !
+
+I pray thee , go to the casement , and see if you can see my master , Master Doctor Caius , coming : if he do , i' faith , and find anybody in the house , here will be an old abusing of God's patience and the king's English .
+
+I'll go watch .
+
+Go ; and we'll have a posset for't soon at night , in faith , at the latter end of a sea-coal fire .
+
+An honest , willing , kind fellow , as ever servant shall come in house withal ; and , I warrant you , no tell-tale , nor no breed-bate : his worst fault is , that he is given to prayer ; he is something peevish that way , but nobody but has his fault ; but let that pass . Peter Simple you say your name is ?
+
+Ay , for fault of a better .
+
+And Master Slender's your master ?
+
+Ay , forsooth .
+
+Does he not wear a great round beard like a glover's paring-knife ?
+
+No , forsooth : he hath but a little wheyface , with a little yellow beard a cane-coloured beard .
+
+A softly-sprighted man , is he not ?
+
+Ay , forsooth ; but he is as tall a man of his hands as any is between this and his head : he hath fought with a warrener .
+
+How say you ?O ! I should remember him : does he not hold up his head , as it were , and strut in his gait ?
+
+Yes , indeed , does he .
+
+Well , heaven send Anne Page no worse fortune ! Tell Master Parson Evans I will do what I can for your master : Anne is a good girl , and I wish
+
+
+Out , alas ! here comes my master .
+
+We shall all be shent . Run in here , good young man ; go into this closet .
+
+
+'And down , down , adown-a ,' &c .
+
+Vat is you sing ? I do not like dese toys . Pray you , go and vetch me in my closet une boitine verde ; a box , a green-a box : do intend vat I speak ? a green-a box .
+
+Ay , forsooth ; I'll fetch it you .
+
+I am glad he went not in himself : if he had found the young man , he would have been horn-mad .
+
+Fe , fe , fe , fe ! ma foi , il fait fort chaud . Je m'en vais la cour ,la grande affaire .
+
+Is it this , sir ?
+
+Oui ; mettez le au mon pocket ; d p chez , quickly .Vere is dat knave Rugby ?
+
+What , John Rugby ! John !
+
+
+Here , sir .
+
+You are John Rugby , and you are Jack Rugby : come , take-a your rapier , and come after my heel to de court .
+
+'Tis ready , sir , here in the porch .
+
+By my trot , I tarry too long .Od's me ! Qu'ay j'oubli ? dere is some simples in my closet , dat I vill not for de varld I shall leave behind .
+
+Ay me ! he'll find the young man there , and be mad .
+
+O diable ! diable ! vat is in my closet ?Villain ! larron !
+
+Rugby , my rapier !
+
+Good master , be content .
+
+Verefore shall I be content-a ?
+
+The young man is an honest man .
+
+Vat shall de honest man do in my closet ? dere is no honest man dat shall come in my closet .
+
+I beseech you , be not so phlegmatic . Hear the truth of it : he came of an errand to me from Parson Hugh .
+
+Vell .
+
+Ay , forsooth , to desire her to
+
+Peace , I pray you .
+
+Peace-a your tongue !Speak-a your tale .
+
+To desire this honest gentlewoman , your maid , to speak a good word to Mistress Anne Page for my master in the way of marriage .
+
+This is all , indeed , la ! but I'll ne'er put my finger in the fire , and need not .
+
+Sir Hugh send-a you ?Rugby , baillez me some paper : tarry you a little-a while .
+
+
+I am glad he is so quiet : if he had been throughly moved , you should have heard him so loud , and so melancholy . But , notwithstanding , man , I'll do your master what good I can ; and the very yea and the no is , the French doctor , my master ,I may call him my master , look you , for I keep his house ; and I wash , wring , brew , bake , scour , dress meat and drink , make the beds , and do all myself ,
+
+'Tis a great charge to come under one body's hand .
+
+Are you avis'd o' that ? you shall find it a great charge : and to be up early and down late ; but notwithstanding ,to tell you in your ear ,I would have no words of it ,my master himself is in love with Mistress Anne Page : but notwithstanding that , I know Anne's mind , that's neither here nor there .
+
+You jack'nape , give-a dis letter to Sir Hugh ; by gar , it is a challenge : I vill cut his troat in de Park ; and I vill teach a scurvy jack-a-nape priest to meddle or make . You may be gone ; it is not good you tarry here : by gar , I vill cut all his two stones ; by gar , he shall not have a stone to trow at his dog .
+
+
+Alas ! he speaks but for his friend .
+
+It is no matter-a for dat :do not you tell-a me dat I shall have Anne Page for myself ? By gar , I vill kill de Jack priest ; and I have appointed mine host of de Jartiere to measure our weapon . By gar , I vill myself have Anne Page .
+
+Sir , the maid loves you , and all shall be well . We must give folks leave to prate : what , the good-jer !
+
+Rugby , come to the court vit me . By gar , if I have not Anne Page , I shall turn your head out of my door . Follow my heels , Rugby .
+
+
+You shall have An fool's-head of your own . No , I know Anne's mind for that : never a woman in Windsor knows more of Anne's mind than I do ; nor can do more than I do with her , I thank heaven .
+
+Who's within there ? ho !
+
+Who's there , I trow ? Come near the house , I pray you .
+
+
+How now , good woman ! how dost thou ?
+
+The better , that it pleases your good worship to ask .
+
+What news ? how does pretty Mistress Anne ?
+
+In truth , sir , and she is pretty , and honest , and gentle ; and one that is your friend , I can tell you that by the way ; I praise heaven for it .
+
+Shall I do any good , thinkest thou ? Shall I not lose my suit ?
+
+Troth , sir , all is in his hands above ; but notwithstanding , Master Fenton , I'll be sworn on a book , she loves you . Have not your worship a wart above your eye ?
+
+Yes , marry have I ; what of that ?
+
+Well , thereby hangs a tale . Good faith , it is such another Nan ; but , I detest , an honest maid as ever broke bread : we had an hour's talk of that wart . I shall never laugh but in that maid's company ;but , indeed , she is given too much to allicholy and musing . But for you well , go to .
+
+Well , I shall see her to-day . Hold , there's money for thee ; let me have thy voice in my behalf : if thou seest her before me , commend me .
+
+Will I ? i' faith , that we will : and I will tell your worship more of the wart the next time we have confidence ; and of other wooers .
+
+Well , farewell ; I am in great haste now .
+
+Farewell to your worship .
+
+Truly , an honest gentleman : but Anne loves him not ; for I know Anne's mind as well as another does . Out upon't ! what have I forgot ?
+
+What ! have I 'scaped love-letters in the holiday-time of my beauty , and am I now a subject for them ? Let me see .
+
+Ask me no reason why I love you ; for though Love use Reason for his physician , he admits him not for his counsellor . You are not young , no more am I ; go to then , there's sympathy ; you are merry , so am I , ha ! ha ! then , there's more sympathy , you love sack , and so do I , would you desire better sympathy ? Let it suffice thee , Mistress Page , at the least , if the love of a soldier can suffice , that I love thee I will not say , pity me ,'tis not a soldier-like phrase ; but I say , love me . By me ,
+
+Thine own true knight ,
+By day or night ,
+Or any kind of light ,
+With all his might
+For thee to fight ,
+
+What a Herod of Jewry is this ! O wicked , wicked world ! one that is well-nigh worn to pieces with age , to show himself a young gallant ! What an unweighed behaviour hath this Flemish drunkard picked , with the devil's name ! out of my conversation , that he dares in this manner assay me ? Why , he hath not been thrice in my company ! What should I say to him ? I was then frugal of my mirth :heaven forgive me ! Why , I'll exhibit a bill in the parliament for the putting down of men . How shall I be revenged on him ? for revenged I will be , as sure as his guts are made of puddings .
+
+
+Mistress Page ! trust me , I was going to your house .
+
+And , trust me , I was coming to you . You look very ill .
+
+Nay , I'll ne'er believe that : I have to show to the contrary .
+
+Faith , but you do , in my mind .
+
+Well , I do then ; yet , I say I could show you to the contrary . O , Mistress Page ! give me some counsel .
+
+What's the matter , woman ?
+
+O woman , if it were not for one trifling respect , I could come to such honour !
+
+Hang the trifle , woman ; take the honour . What is it ?dispense with trifles ;what is it ?
+
+If I would but go to hell for an eternal moment or so , I could be knighted .
+
+What ? thou liest . Sir Alice Ford ! These knights will hack ; and so thou shouldst not alter the article of thy gentry .
+
+We burn daylight : here , read , read ; perceive how I might be knighted . I shall think the worse of fat men as long as I have an eye to make difference of men's liking : and yet he would not swear ; praised women's modesty ; and gave such orderly and well-behaved reproof to all uncomeliness , that I would have sworn his disposition would have gone to the truth of his words ; but they do no more adhere and keep place together than the Hundredth Psalm to the tune of 'Green Sleeves .' What tempest , I trow , threw this whale , with so many tuns of oil in his belly , ashore at Windsor ? How shall I be revenged on him ? I think , the best way were to entertain him with hope , till the wicked fire of lust have melted him in his own grease . Did you ever hear the like ?
+
+Letter for letter , but that the name of Page and Ford differs ! To thy great comfort in this mystery of ill opinions , here's the twin brother of thy letter : but let thine inherit first ; for , I protest , mine never shall . I warrant , he hath a thousand of these letters , writ with blank space for different names , sure more , and these are of the second edition . He will print them , out of doubt ; for he cares not what he puts into the press , when he would put us two : I had rather be a grantess , and lie under Mount Pelion . Well , I will find you twenty lascivious turtles ere one chaste man .
+
+Why , this is the very same ; the very hand , the very words . What doth he think of us ?
+
+Nay , I know not : it makes me almost ready to wrangle with mine own honesty . I'll entertain myself like one that I am not acquainted withal ; for , sure , unless he know some strain in me , that I know not myself , he would never have boarded me in this fury .
+
+Boarding call you it ? I'll be sure to keep him above deck .
+
+So will I : if he come under my hatches , I'll never to sea again . Let's be revenged on him : let's appoint him a meeting ; give him a show of comfort in his suit , and lead him on with a fine-baited delay , till he hath pawned his horses to mine host of the Garter .
+
+Nay , I will consent to act any villany against him , that may not sully the chariness of our honesty . O , that my husband saw this letter ! it would give eternal food to his jealousy .
+
+Why , look , where he comes ; and my good man too : he's as far from jealousy , as I am from giving him cause ; and that , I hope , is an unmeasurable distance .
+
+You are the happier woman .
+
+Let's consult together against this greasy knight . Come hither .
+
+Well , I hope it be not so .
+
+Hope is a curtal dog in some affairs :
+Sir John affects thy wife .
+
+Why , sir , my wife is not young .
+
+He woos both high and low , both rich and poor ,
+Both young and old , one with another , Ford .
+He loves the galimaufry : Ford , perpend .
+
+Love my wife !
+
+With liver burning hot : prevent , or go thou ,
+Like Sir Act on he , with Ringwood at thy heels .
+O ! odious is the name !
+
+What name , sir ?
+
+The horn , I say . Farewell :
+Take heed ; have open eye , for thieves do foot by night :
+Take heed , ere summer comes or cuckoo-birds do sing .
+Away , sir Corporal Nym !
+Believe it , Page ; he speaks sense .
+
+
+I will be patient : I will find out this .
+
+And this is true ; I like not the humour of lying . He hath wronged me in some humours : I should have borne the humoured letter to her , but I have a sword and it shall bite upon my necessity . He loves your wife ; there's the short and the long . My name is Corporal Nym ; I speak , and I avouch 'tis true : my name is Nym , and Falstaff loves your wife . Adieu . I love not the humour of bread and cheese ; and there's the humour of it . Adieu .
+
+
+'The humour of it ,' quoth'a ! here's a fellow frights humour out of his wits .
+
+I will seek out Falstaff .
+
+I never heard such a drawling , affecting rogue .
+
+If I do find it : well .
+
+I will not believe such a Cataian , though the priest o' the town commended him for a true man .
+
+'Twas a good sensible fellow : well .
+
+How now , Meg !
+
+Whither go you , George ?Hark you .
+
+How now , sweet Frank ! why art thou melancholy ?
+
+I melancholy ! I am not melancholy . Get you home , go .
+
+Faith , thou hast some crotchets in thy head now . Will you go , Mistress Page ?
+
+Have with you . You'll come to dinner , George ?
+
+Look , who comes yonder : she shall be our messenger to this paltry knight .
+
+Trust me , I thought on her : she'll fit it .
+
+
+You are come to see my daughter Anne ?
+
+Ay , forsooth ; and , I pray , how does good Mistress Anne ?
+
+Go in with us , and see : we'd have an hour's talk with you .
+
+
+How now , Master Ford !
+
+You heard what this knave told me , did you not ?
+
+Yes ; and you heard what the other told me ?
+
+Do you think there is truth in them ?
+
+Hang 'em , slaves ! I do not think the knight would offer it : but these that accuse him in his intent towards our wives , are a yoke of his discarded men ; very rogues , now they be out of service .
+
+Were they his men ?
+
+Marry , were they .
+
+I like it never the better for that . Does he lie at the Garter ?
+
+Ay , marry , does he . If he should intend this voyage towards my wife , I would turn her loose to him ; and what he gets more of her than sharp words , let it lie on my head .
+
+I do not misdoubt my wife , but I would be loth to turn them together . A man may be too confident : I would have nothing 'lie on my head :' I cannot be thus satisfied .
+
+Look , where my ranting host of the Garter comes . There is either liquor in his pate or money in his purse when he looks so merrily .
+
+How now , mine host !
+
+How now , bully-rook ! thou'rt a gentleman . Cavaliero-justice , I say !
+
+I follow , mine host , I follow . Good even and twenty , good Master Page ! Master Page , will you go with us ? we have sport in hand .
+
+Tell him , cavaliero-justice ; tell him , bully-rook .
+
+Sir , there is a fray to be fought between Sir Hugh the Welsh priest and Caius the French doctor .
+
+Good mine host o' the Garter , a word with you .
+
+What sayest thou , my bully-rook ?
+
+
+Will you go with us to behold it ? My merry host hath had the measuring of their weapons , and , I think , hath appointed them contrary places ; for , believe me , I hear the parson is no jester . Hark , I will tell you what our sport shall be .
+
+
+Hast thou no suit against my knight , my guest-cavalier ?
+
+None , I protest : but I'll give you a pottle of burnt sack to give me recourse to him and tell him my name is Brook , only for a jest .
+
+My hand , bully : thou shalt have egress and regress ; said I well ? and thy name shall be Brook . It is a merry knight . Will you go , mynheers ?
+
+Have with you , mine host .
+
+I have heard , the Frenchman hath good skill in his rapier .
+
+Tut , sir ! I could have told you more . In these times you stand on distance , your passes , stoccadoes , and I know not what : 'tis the heart , Master Page ; 'tis here , 'tis here . I have seen the time with my long sword I would have made you four tall fellows skip like rats .
+
+Here , boys , here , here ! shall we wag ?
+
+Have with you . I had rather hear them scold than fight .
+
+
+Though Page be a secure fool , and stands so firmly on his wife's frailty , yet I cannot put off my opinion so easily . She was in his company at Page's house , and what they made there , I know not . Well , I will look further into't ; and I have a disguise to sound Falstaff . If I find her honest , I lose not my labour ; if she be otherwise , 'tis labour well bestowed .
+
+
+I will not lend thee a penny .
+
+Why , then the world's mine oyster ,
+Which I with sword will open .
+I will retort the sum in equipage .
+
+Not a penny . I have been content , sir , you should lay my countenance to pawn : I have grated upon my good friends for three reprieves for you and your coach-fellow Nym ; or else you had looked through the grate , like a geminy of baboons . I am damned in hell for swearing to gentlemen my friends , you were good soldiers and tall fellows ; and when Mistress Bridget lost the handle of her fan , I took't upon mine honour thou hadst it not .
+
+Didst thou not share ? hadst thou not fifteen pence ?
+
+Reason , you rogue , reason : thinkest thou , I'll endanger my soul gratis ? At a word , hang no more about me ; I am no gibbet for you : go : a short knife and a throng !to your manor of Picht-hatch ! go . You'll not bear a letter for me , you rogue !you stand upon your honour !Why , thou unconfinable baseness , it is as much as I can do to keep the terms of mine honour precise . I , I , I , myself sometimes , leaving the fear of God on the left hand and hiding mine honour in my necessity , am fain to shuffle , to hedge and to lurch ; and yet you , rogue , will ensconce your rags , your cat-a-mountain looks , your red-lattice phrases , and your bold-beating oaths , under the shelter of your honour ! You will not do it , you !
+
+I do relent : what wouldst thou more of man ?
+
+
+Sir , here's a woman would speak with you .
+
+Let her approach .
+
+
+Give your worship good morrow .
+
+Good morrow , good wife .
+
+Not so , an't please your worship .
+
+Good maid , then .
+
+I'll be sworn
+As my mother was , the first hour I was born .
+
+I do believe the swearer . What with me ?
+
+Shall I vouchsafe your worship a word or two ?
+
+Two thousand , fair woman ; and I'll vouchsafe thee the hearing .
+
+There is one Mistress Ford , sir ,I pray , come a little nearer this ways :I myself dwell with Master Doctor Caius .
+
+Well , on : Mistress Ford , you say ,
+
+Your worship says very true :I pray your worship , come a little nearer this ways .
+
+I warrant thee , nobody hears ; mine own people , mine own people .
+
+Are they so ? God bless them , and make them his servants !
+
+Well : Mistress Ford ; what of her ?
+
+Why , sir , she's a good creature . Lord , Lord ! your worship's a wanton ! Well , heaven forgive you , and all of us , I pray !
+
+Mistress Ford ; come , Mistress Ford ,
+
+Marry , this is the short and the long of it . You have brought her into such a canaries as 'tis wonderful : the best courtier of them all , when the court lay at Windsor , could never have brought her to such a canary ; yet there has been knights , and lords , and gentlemen , with their coaches , I warrant you , coach after coach , letter after letter , gift after gift ; smelling so sweetly all musk , and so rushling , I warrant you , in silk and gold ; and in such alligant terms ; and in such wine and sugar of the best and the fairest , that would have won any woman's heart ; and , I warrant you , they could never get an eye-wink of her . I had myself twenty angels given me this morning ; but I defy all angels , in any such sort , as they say , but in the way of honesty : and , I warrant you , they could never get her so much as sip on a cup with the proudest of them all ; and yet there has been earls , nay , which is more , pensioners ; but , I warrant you , all is one with her .
+
+But what says she to me ? be brief , my good she Mercury .
+
+Marry , she hath received your letter ; for the which she thanks you a thousand times ; and she gives you to notify that her husband will be absence from his house between ten and eleven .
+
+Ten and eleven ?
+
+Ay , forsooth ; and then you may come and see the picture , she says , that you wot of : Master Ford , her husband , will be from home . Alas ! the sweet woman leads an ill life with him ; he's a very jealousy man ; she leads a very frampold life with him , good heart .
+
+Ten and eleven . Woman , commend me to her ; I will not fail her .
+
+Why , you say well . But I have another messenger to your worship : Mistress Page hath her hearty commendations to you too : and let me tell you in your ear , she's as fartuous a civil modest wife , and one , I tell you , that will not miss you morning nor evening prayer , as any is in Windsor , whoe'er be the other : and she bade me tell your worship that her husband is seldom from home ; but , she hopes there will come a time . I never knew a woman so dote upon a man : surely , I think you have charms , la ; yes , in truth .
+
+Not I , I assure thee : setting the attraction of my good parts aside , I have no other charms .
+
+Blessing on your heart for't !
+
+But , I pray thee , tell me this : has Ford's wife and Page's wife acquainted each other how they love me ?
+
+That were a jest indeed ! they have not so little grace , I hope : that were a trick , indeed ! But Mistress Page would desire you to send her your little page , of all loves : her husband has a marvellous infection to the little page ; and , truly , Master Page is an honest man . Never a wife in Windsor leads a better life than she does : do what she will , say what she will , take all , pay all , go to bed when she list , rise when she list , all is as she will : and , truly she deserves it ; for if there be a kind woman in Windsor , she is one . You must send her your page ; no remedy .
+
+Why , I will .
+
+Nay , but do so , then : and , look you , he may come and go between you both ; and in any case have a nay-word , that you may know one another's mind , and the boy never need to understand any thing ; for 'tis not good that children should know any wickedness : old folks , you know , have discretion , as they say , and know the world .
+
+Fare thee well : commend me to them both . There's my purse ; I am yet thy debtor .Boy , go along with this woman .
+
+This news distracts me .
+
+This punk is one of Cupid's carriers .
+Clap on more sails ; pursue ; up with your fights ;
+Give fire ! she is my prize , or ocean whelm them all !
+
+
+Sayest thou so , old Jack ? go thy ways ; I'll make more of thy old body than I have done . Will they yet look after thee ? Wilt thou , after the expense of so much money , be now a gainer ? Good body , I thank thee . Let them say 'tis grossly done ; so it be fairly done , no matter .
+
+
+Sir John , there's one Master Brook below would fain speak with you , and be acquainted with you : and hath sent your worship a morning's draught of sack .
+
+Brook is his name ?
+
+Ay , sir .
+
+Call him in .
+
+Such Brooks are welcome to me , that o'erflow such liquor . Ah , ha ! Mistress Ford and Mistress Page , have I encompassed you ? go to ; via !
+
+
+Bless your , sir !
+
+And you , sir ; would you speak with me ?
+
+I make bold to press with so little preparation upon you .
+
+You're welcome . What's your will ?Give us leave , drawer .
+
+
+Sir , I am a gentleman that have spent much : my name is Brook .
+
+Good Master Brook , I desire more acquaintance of you .
+
+Good Sir John , I sue for yours : not to charge you ; for I must let you understand I think myself in better plight for a lender than you are : the which hath something emboldened me to this unseasoned intrusion ; for , they say , if money go before , all ways do lie open .
+
+Money is a good soldier , sir , and will on .
+
+Troth , and I have a bag of money here troubles me : if you will help to bear it , Sir John , take all , or half , for easing me of the carriage .
+
+Sir , I know not how I may deserve to be your porter .
+
+I will tell you , sir , if you will give me the hearing .
+
+Speak , good Master Brook ; I shall be glad to be your servant .
+
+Sir , I hear you are a scholar ,I will be brief with you , and you have been a man long known to me , though I had never so good means , as desire , to make myself acquainted with you . I shall discover a thing to you , wherein I must very much lay open mine own imperfection ; but , good Sir John , as you have one eye upon my follies , as you hear them unfolded , turn another into the register of your own , that I may pass with a reproof the easier , sith you yourself know how easy it is to be such an offender .
+
+Very well , sir ; proceed .
+
+There is a gentlewoman in this town , her husband's name is Ford .
+
+Well , sir .
+
+I have long loved her , and , I protest to you , bestowed much on her ; followed her with a doting observance ; engrossed opportunities to meet her ; fee'd every slight occasion that could but niggardly give me sight of her ; not only bought many presents to give her , but have given largely to many to know what she would have given . Briefly , I have pursued her as love hath pursued me ; which hath been on the wing of all occasions . But whatsoever I have merited , either in my mind or in my means , meed , I am sure , I have received none ; unless experience be a jewel that I have purchased at an infinite rate ; and that hath taught me to say this ,
+
+Love like a shadow flies when substance love pursues ;
+Pursuing that that flies , and flying what pursues
+
+
+Have you received no promise of satisfaction at her hands ?
+
+Never .
+
+Have you importuned her to such a purpose ?
+
+Never .
+
+Of what quality was your love , then ?
+
+Like a fair house built upon another man's ground ; so that I have lost my edifice by mistaking the place where I erected it .
+
+To what purpose have you unfolded this to me ?
+
+When I have told you that , I have told you all . Some say , that though she appear honest to me , yet in other places she enlargeth her mirth so far that there is shrewd construction made of her . Now , Sir John , here is the heart of my purpose : you are a gentleman of excellent breeding , admirable discourse , of great admittance , authentic in your place and person , generally allowed for your many war-like , court-like , and learned preparations .
+
+O , sir !
+
+Believe it , for you know it . There is money ; spend it , spend it ; spend more ; spend all I have ; only give me so much of your time in exchange of it , as to lay an amiable siege to the honesty of this Ford's wife : use your art of wooing , win her to consent to you ; if any man may , you may as soon as any .
+
+Would it apply well to the vehemency of your affection , that I should win what you would enjoy ? Methinks you prescribe to yourself very preposterously .
+
+O , understand my drift . She dwells so securely on the excellency of her honour , that the folly of my soul dares not present itself : she is too bright to be looked against . Now , could I come to her with any detection in my hand , my desires had instance and argument to commend themselves : I could drive her then from the ward of her purity , her reputation , her marriage vow , and a thousand other her defences , which now are too-too strongly embattled against me . What say you to't , Sir John ?
+
+Master Brook , I will first make bold with your money ; next , give me your hand ; and last , as I am a gentleman , you shall , if you will , enjoy Ford's wife .
+
+O good sir !
+
+I say you shall .
+
+Want no money , Sir John ; you shall want none .
+
+Want no Mistress Ford , Master Brook ; you shall want none . I shall be with her , I may tell you , by her own appointment ; even as you came in to me , her assistant or go-between parted from me : I say I shall be with her between ten and eleven ; for at that time the jealous rascally knave her husband will be forth . Come you to me at night ; you shall know how I speed .
+
+I am blest in your acquaintance . Do you know Ford , sir ?
+
+Hang him , poor cuckoldly knave ! I know him not . Yet I wrong him , to call him poor : they say the jealous wittolly knave hath masses of money ; for the which his wife seems to me well-favoured . I will use her as the key of the cuckoldly rogue's coffer ; and there's my harvest-home .
+
+I would you knew Ford , sir , that you might avoid him , if you saw him .
+
+Hang him , mechanical salt-butter rogue ! I will stare him out of his wits ; I will awe him with my cudgel : it shall hang like a meteor o'er the cuckold's horns . Master Brook , thou shalt know I will predominate over the peasant , and thou shalt he with his wife . Come to me soon at night . Ford's a knave , and I will aggravate his style ; thou , Master Brook , shalt know him for knave and cuckold . Come to me soon at night .
+
+
+What a damned Epicurean rascal is this ! My heart is ready to crack with impatience . Who says this is improvident jealousy ? my wife hath sent to him , the hour is fixed , the match is made . Would any man have thought this ? See the hell of having a false woman ! My bed shall be abused , my coffers ransacked , my reputation gnawn at ; and I shall not only receive this villanous wrong , but stand under the adoption of abominable terms , and by him that does me this wrong . Terms ! names ! Amaimon sounds well ; Lucifer , well ; Barbason , well ; yet they are devils' additions , the names of fiends : but Cuckold ! Wittol !Cuckold ! the devil himself hath not such a name . Page is an ass , a secure ass : he will trust his wife ; he will not be jealous . I will rather trust a Fleming with my butter , Parson Hugh the Welshman with my cheese , an Irishman with my aqua-vit bottle , or a thief to walk my ambling gelding , than my wife with herself : then she plots , then she ruminates , then she devises ; and what they think in their hearts they may effect , they will break their hearts but they will effect . God be praised for my jealousy ! Eleven o'clock the hour : I will prevent this , detect my wife , be revenged on Falstaff , and laugh at Page . I will about it ; better three hours too soon than a minute too late . Fie , fie , fie ! cuckold ! cuckold ! cuckold !
+
+
+Jack Rugby !
+
+Sir ?
+
+Vat is de clock , Jack ?
+
+'Tis past the hour , sir , that Sir Hugh promised to meet .
+
+By gar , he has save his soul , dat he is no come : he has pray his Pible vell , dat he is no come . By gar , Jack Rugby , he is dead already , if he be come .
+
+He is wise , sir ; he knew your worship would kill him , if he came .
+
+By gar , de herring is no dead so as I vill kill him . Take your rapier , Jack ; I vill tell you how I vill kill him .
+
+Alas , sir ! I cannot fence .
+
+Villany , take your rapier .
+
+Forbear ; here's company .
+
+
+Bless thee , bully doctor !
+
+Save you , Master Doctor Caius !
+
+Now , good Master doctor !
+
+Give you good morrow , sir .
+
+Vat be all you , one , two , tree , four , come for ?
+
+To see thee fight , to see thee foin , to see thee traverse ; to see thee here , to see thee there ; to see thee pass thy punto , thy stock , thy reverse , thy distance , thy montant . Is he dead , my Ethiopian ? is he dead , my Francisco ? ha , bully ! What says my sculapius ? my Galen ? my heart of elder ? ha ! is he dead , bully stale ? is he dead ?
+
+By gar , he is de coward Jack priest of de vorld ; he is not show his face .
+
+Thou art a Castilian King Urinal ! Hector of Greece , my boy !
+
+I pray you , bear vitness that me have stay six or seven , two , tree hours for him , and he is no come .
+
+He is the wiser man , Master doctor : he is a curer of souls , and you a curer of bodies ; if you should fight , you go against the hair of your professions . Is it not true , Master Page ?
+
+Master Shallow , you have yourself been a great fighter , though now a man of peace .
+
+Bodykins , Master Page , though I now be old and of the peace , if I see a sword out , my finger itches to make one . Though we are justices and doctors and churchmen , Master Page , we have some salt of our youth in us ; we are the sons of women , Master Page .
+
+'Tis true , Master Shallow .
+
+It will be found so , Master Page . Master Doctor Caius , I am come to fetch you home . I am sworn of the peace : you have showed yourself a wise physician , and Sir Hugh hath shown himself a wise and patient churchman . You must go with me , Master doctor .
+
+Pardon , guest-justice .A word , Monsieur Mockwater .
+
+Mock-vater ! vat is dat ?
+
+Mock-water , in our English tongue , is valour , bully .
+
+By gar , den , I have as mush mock-vater as de Englishman . Scurvy jack-dog priest ! by gar , me vill cut his ears .
+
+He will clapper-claw thee tightly , bully .
+
+Clapper-de-claw ! vat is dat ?
+
+That is , he will make thee amends .
+
+By gar , me do look , he shall clapper-de-claw me ; for , by gar , me vill have it .
+
+And I will provoke him to't , or let him wag .
+
+Me tank you for dat .
+
+And moreover , bully ,But first , Master guest , and Master Page , and eke Cavaliero Slender , go you through the town to Frogmore .
+
+
+Sir Hugh is there , is he ?
+
+He is there : see what humour he is in ; and I will bring the doctor about by the fields . Will it do well ?
+
+We will do it .
+
+Adieu , good Master doctor .
+
+
+By gar , me vill kill de priest ; for he speak for a jack-an-ape to Anne Page .
+
+Let him die . Sheathe thy impatience ; throw cold water on thy choler : go about the fields with me through Frogmore : I will bring thee where Mistress Anne Page is , at a farmhouse a-feasting ; and thou shalt woo her . Cried I aim ? said I well ?
+
+By gar , me tank you for dat : by gar , I love you ; and I shall procure-a you de good guest , de earl , de knight , de lords , de gentlemen , my patients .
+
+For the which I will be thy adversary toward Anne Page : said I well ?
+
+By gar , 'tis good ; vell said .
+
+Let us wag , then .
+
+Come at my heels , Jack Rugby .
+
+I pray you now , good Master Slender's serving-man , and friend Simple by your name , which way have you looked for Master Caius , that calls himself doctor of physic ?
+
+Marry , sir , the pittie-ward , the parkward , every way ; old Windsor way , and every way but the town way .
+
+I most fehemently desire you you will also look that way .
+
+I will , sir .
+
+
+Pless my soul ! how full of chollors I am , and trempling of mind ! I shall be glad if he have deceived me . How melancholies I am ! I will knog his urinals about his knave's costard when I have goot opportunities for the 'ork : pless my soul !
+
+
+To shallow rivers , to whose falls
+Melodious birds sing madrigals ;
+There will we make our peds of roses ,
+And a thousand fragrant pasies .
+To shallow
+
+Mercy on me ! I have a great dispositions to cry .
+
+
+Melodious birds sing madrigals ,
+When as I sat in Pabylon ,
+And a thousand vagram posies .
+To shallow ,
+
+Yonder he is coming , this way , Sir Hugh .
+
+He's welcome .
+
+
+To shallow rivers , to whose falls
+
+Heaven prosper the right !what weapons is he ?
+
+No weapons , sir . There comes my master , Master Shallow , and another gentleman , from Frogmore , over the stile , this way .
+
+Pray you , give me my gown ; or else keep it in your arms .
+
+How now , Master Parson ! Good morrow , good Sir Hugh . Keep a gamester from the dice , and a good student from his book , and it is wonderful .
+
+Ah , sweet Anne Page !
+
+Save you , good Sir Hugh !
+
+Pless you from His mercy sake , all of you !
+
+What , the sword and the word ! do you study them both , Master Parson ?
+
+And youthful still in your doublet and hose ! this raw rheumatic day ?
+
+There is reasons and causes for it .
+
+We are come to you to do a good office , Master parson .
+
+Fery well : what is it ?
+
+Yonder is a most reverend gentleman , who , belike having received wrong by some person , is at most odds with his own gravity and patience that ever you saw .
+
+I have lived fourscore years and upward ; I never heard a man of his place , gravity , and learning , so wide of his own respect .
+
+What is he ?
+
+I think you know him ; Master Doctor Caius , the renowned French physician .
+
+Got's will , and his passion of my heart ! I had as lief you would tell me of a mess of porridge .
+
+Why ?
+
+He has no more knowledge in Hibbocrates and Galen ,and he is a knave besides ; a cowardly knave as you would desires to be acquainted withal .
+
+I warrant you , he's the man should fight with him .
+
+O , sweet Anne Page !
+
+It appears so , by his weapons . Keep them asunder : here comes Doctor Caius .
+
+
+Nay , good Master parson , keep in your weapon .
+
+So do you , good Master doctor .
+
+Disarm them , and let them question : let them keep their limbs whole and hack our English .
+
+I pray you , let-a me speak a word vit your ear : verefore vill you not meet-a me ?
+
+Pray you , use your patience : in good time .
+
+By gar , you are de coward , de Jack dog , John ape .
+
+Pray you , let us not be laughing-stogs to other men's humours ; I desire you in friendship , and I will one way or other make you amends : [Aloud .] I will knog your urinals about your knave's cogscomb for missing your meetings and appointments .
+
+Diable !Jack Rugby ,mine host de Jarretierre ,have I not stay for him to kill him ? have I not , at de place I did appoint ?
+
+As I am a Christians soul , now , look you , this is the place appointed : I'll be judgment by mine host of the Garter .
+
+Peace , I say , Gallia and Guallia ; French and Welsh , soul-curer and body-curer !
+
+Ay , dat is very good ; excellent .
+
+Peace , I say ! hear mine host of the Garter . Am I politic ? am I subtle ? am I a Machiavel ? Shall I lose my doctor ? no ; he gives me the potions and the motions . Shall I lose my parson , my priest , my Sir Hugh ? no ; he gives me the proverbs and the no-verbs . Give me thy hand , terrestrial ; so ;give me thy hand celestial ; so . Boys of art , I have deceived you both ; I have directed you to wrong places : your hearts are mighty , your skins are whole , and let burnt sack be the issue . Come , lay their swords to pawn . Follow me , lads of peace ; follow , follow , follow .
+
+Trust me , a mad host !Follow , gentlemen , follow .
+
+O , sweet Anne Page !
+
+
+Ha ! do I perceive dat ? have you make-a de sot of us , ha , ha ?
+
+This is well ; he has made us his vlouting-stog . I desire you that we may be friends and let us knog our prains together to be revenge on this same scall , scurvy , cogging companion , the host of the Garter .
+
+By gar , vit all my heart . He promise to bring me vere is Anne Page : by gar , he deceive me too .
+
+Well , I will smite his noddles . Pray you , follow .
+
+
+Nay , keep your way , little gallant : you were wont to be a follower , but now you are a leader . Whether had you rather lead mine eyes , or eye your master's heels ?
+
+I had rather , forsooth , go before you like a man than follow him like a dwarf .
+
+O ! you are a flattering boy : now I see you'll be a courtier .
+
+
+Well met , Mistress Page . Whither go you ?
+
+Truly , sir , to see your wife : is she at home ?
+
+Ay ; and as idle as she may hang together , for want of company . I think , if your husbands were dead , you two would marry .
+
+Be sure of that ,two other husbands .
+
+Where had you this pretty weathercock ?
+
+I cannot tell what the dickens his name is my husband had him of . What do you call your knight's name , sirrah ?
+
+Sir John Falstaff .
+
+Sir John Falstaff !
+
+He , he ; I can never hit on's name . There is such a league between my good man and he ! Is your wife at home indeed ?
+
+Indeed she is .
+
+By your leave , sir : I am sick till I see her .
+
+
+Has Page any brains ? hath he any eyes ? hath he any thinking ? Sure , they sleep ; he hath no use of them . Why , this boy will carry a letter twenty mile , as easy as a cannon will shoot point-blank twelve score . He pieces out his wife's inclination ; he gives her folly motion and advantage : and now she's going to my wife , and Falstaff's boy with her . A man may hear this shower sing in the wind : and Falstaff's boy with her ! Good plots ! they are laid ; and our revolted wives share damnation together . Well ; I will take him , then torture my wife , pluck the borrowed veil of modesty from the so seeming Mistress Page , divulge Page himself for a secure and wilful Act on ; and to these violent proceedings all my neighbours shall cry aim .
+
+The clock gives me my cue , and my assurance bids me search ; there I shall find Falstaff . I shall be rather praised for this than mocked ; for it is as positive as the earth is firm , that Falstaff is there : I will go .
+
+
+Well met , Master Ford .
+
+Trust me , a good knot . I have good cheer at home ; and I pray you all go with me .
+
+I must excuse myself , Master Ford .
+
+And so must I , sir : we have appointed to dine with Mistress Anne , and I would not break with her for more money than I'll speak of .
+
+We have lingered about a match between Anne Page and my cousin Slender , and this day we shall have our answer .
+
+I hope I have your good will , father Page .
+
+You have , Master Slender ; I stand wholly for you : but my wife , Master doctor , is for you altogether .
+
+Ay , by gar ; and de maid is love-a me : my nursh-a Quickly tell me so mush .
+
+What say you to young Master Fenton ? he capers , he dances , he has eyes of youth , he writes verses , he speaks holiday , he smells April and May : he will carry't , he will carry't ; 'tis in his buttons ; he will carry't .
+
+Not by my consent , I promise you . The gentleman is of no having : he kept company with the wild prince and Pointz ; he is of too high a region ; he knows too much . No , he shall not knit a knot in his fortunes with the finger of my substance : if he take her , let him take her simply ; the wealth I have waits on my consent , and my consent goes not that way .
+
+I beseech you heartily , some of you go home with me to dinner : besides your cheer , you shall have sport ; I will show you a monster . Master doctor , you shall go ; so shall you , Master Page ; and you , Sir Hugh .
+
+Well , fare you well : we shall have the freer wooing at Master Page's .
+
+
+Go home , John Rugby ; I come anon .
+
+
+Farewell , my hearts : I will to my honest knight Falstaff , and drink canary with him .
+
+
+I think I shall drink in pipewine first with him ; I'll make him dance . Will you go , gentles ?
+
+Have with you to see this monster .
+
+
+What , John ! what , Robert !
+
+Quickly , quickly :Is the buckbasket
+
+I warrant . What , Robin , I say !
+
+
+Come , come , come .
+
+Here , set it down .
+
+Give your men the charge ; we must be brief .
+
+Marry , as I told you before , John , and Robert , be ready here hard by in the brewhouse ; and when I suddenly call you , come forth , and without any pause or staggering , take this basket on your shoulders : that done , trudge with it in all haste , and carry it among the whitsters in Datchet-mead , and there empty it in the muddy ditch , close by the Thames side .
+
+You will do it ?
+
+I have told them over and over ; they lack no direction . Be gone , and come when you are called .
+
+
+Here comes little Robin .
+
+
+How now , my eyas-musket ! what news with you ?
+
+My master , Sir John , is come in at your back-door , Mistress Ford , and requests your company .
+
+You little Jack-a-Lent , have you been true to us ?
+
+Ay , I'll be sworn . My master knows not of your being here , and hath threatened to put me into everlasting liberty if I tell you of it ; for he swears he'll turn me away .
+
+Thou'rt a good boy ; this secrecy of thine shall be a tailor to thee and shall make thee a new doublet and hose . I'll go hide me .
+
+Do so . Go tell thy master I am alone .
+
+Mistress Page , remember you your cue .
+
+I warrant thee ; if I do not act it , hiss me .
+
+
+Go to , then : we'll use this unwholesome humidity , this gross watery pumpion ; we'll teach him to know turtles from jays .
+
+
+'Have I caught my heavenly jewel ?' Why , now let me die , for I have lived long enough : this is the period of my ambition : O this blessed hour !
+
+O , sweet Sir John !
+
+Mistress Ford , I cannot cog , I cannot prate , Mistress Ford . Now shall I sin in my wish : I would thy husband were dead . I'll speak it before the best lord , I would make thee my lady .
+
+I your lady , Sir John ! alas , I should be a pitiful lady .
+
+Let the court of France show me such another . I see how thine eye would emulate the diamond : thou hast the right arched beauty of the brow that becomes the ship-tire , the tire-valiant , or any tire of Venetian admittance .
+
+A plain kerchief , Sir John : my brows become nothing else ; nor that well neither .
+
+By the Lord , thou art a traitor to say so : thou wouldst make an absolute courtier ; and the firm fixture of thy foot would give an excellent motion to thy gait in a semi-circled farthingale . I see what thou wert , if Fortune thy foe were not , Nature thy friend . Come , thou canst not hide it .
+
+Believe me , there's no such thing in me .
+
+What made me love thee ? let that persuade thee there's something extraordinary in thee . Come , I cannot cog and say thou art this and that , like a many of these lisping hawthornbuds , that come like women in men s apparel , and smell like Bucklersbury in simple-time ; I cannot ; but I love thee ; none but thee ; and thou deservest it .
+
+Do not betray me , sir . I fear you love Mistress Page .
+
+Thou mightst as well say , I love to walk by the Counter-gate , which is as hateful to me as the reek of a lime-kiln .
+
+Well , heaven knows how I love you ; and you shall one day find it .
+
+Keep in that mind ; I'll deserve it .
+
+Nay , I must tell you , so you do , or else I could not be in that mind .
+
+Mistress Ford ! Mistress Ford ! here's Mistress Page at the door , sweating and blowing and looking wildly , and would needs speak with you presently .
+
+She shall not see me : I will ensconce me behind the arras .
+
+Pray you , do so : she's a very tattling woman .
+
+
+What's the matter ? how now !
+
+O Mistress Ford ! what have you done ? You're shamed , you are overthrown , you're undone for ever !
+
+What's the matter , good Mistress Page ?
+
+O well-a-day , Mistress Ford ! having an honest man to your husband , to give him such cause of suspicion !
+
+What cause of suspicion ?
+
+What cause of suspicion ! Out upon you ! how am I mistook in you !
+
+Why , alas , what's the matter ?
+
+Your husband's coming hither , woman , with all the officers of Windsor , to search for a gentleman that he says is here now in the house by your consent , to take an ill advantage of his absence : you are undone .
+
+Speak louder .'Tis not so , I hope .
+
+Pray heaven it be not so , that you have such a man here ! but 'tis most certain your husband's coming with half Windsor at his heels , to search for such a one . I come before to tell you . If you know yourself clear , why , I am glad of it ; but if you have a friend here , convey , convey him out . Be not amazed ; call all your senses to you : defend your reputation , or bid farewell to your good life for ever .
+
+What shall I do ?There is a gentleman , my dear friend ; and I fear not mine own shame so much as his peril : I had rather than a thousand pound he were out of the house .
+
+For shame ! never stand 'you had rather' and 'you had rather :' your husband's here at hand ; bethink you of some conveyance : in the house you cannot hide him . O , how have you deceived me ! Look , here is a basket : if he be of any reasonable stature , he may creep in here ; and throw foul linen upon him , as if it were going to bucking : or it is whiting-time send him by your two men to Datchet-mead .
+
+He's too big to go in there . What shall I do ?
+
+Let me see't , let me see't , O , let me see't ! I'll in , I'll in . Follow your friend's counsel . I'll in .
+
+What , Sir John Falstaff ! Are these your letters , knight ?
+
+I love thee , and none but thee ; help me away : let me creep in here . I'll never
+
+
+Help to cover your master , boy . Call your men , Mistress Ford . You dissembling knight !
+
+What , John ! Robert ! John !
+
+Go take up these clothes here quickly ; where's the cowl-staff ? look , how you drumble ! carry them to the laundress in Datchet-mead ; quickly , come .
+
+Pray you , come near : if I suspect without cause , why then make sport at me ; then let me be your jest ; I deserve it . How now ! what goes here ? whither bear you this ?
+
+To the laundress , forsooth .
+
+Why , what have you to do whither they bear it ? You were best meddle with buck-washing .
+
+Buck ! I would I could wash myself of the buck ! Buck , buck , buck ! Ay , buck ; I warrant you , buck ; and of the season too , it shall appear .
+
+Gentlemen , I have dreamed to-night ; I'll tell you my dream . Here , here , here be my keys : ascend my chambers ; search , seek , find out : I'll warrant we'll unkennel the fox . Let me stop this way first . [Locking the door .] So , now uncape .
+
+Good Master Ford , be contented : you wrong yourself too much .
+
+True , Master Page . Up , gentlemen ; you shall see sport anon : follow me , gentlemen .
+
+
+This is fery fantastical humours and jealousies .
+
+By gar , 'tis no de fashion of France ; it is not jealous in France .
+
+Nay , follow him , gentlemen ; see the issue of his search .
+
+
+Is there not a double excellency in this ?
+
+I know not which pleases me better ; that my husband is deceived , or Sir John .
+
+What a taking was he in when your husband asked who was in the basket !
+
+I am half afraid he will have need of washing ; so throwing him into the water will do him a benefit .
+
+Hang him , dishonest rascal ! I would all of the same strain were in the same distress .
+
+I think my husband hath some special suspicion of Falstaff's being here ; for I never saw him so gross in his jealousy till now .
+
+I will lay a plot to try that ; and we will yet have more tricks with Falstaff : his dissolute disease will scarce obey this medicine .
+
+Shall we send that foolish carrion Mistress Quickly to him , and excuse his throwing into the water ; and give him another hope , to betray him to another punishment ?
+
+We will do it : let him be sent for to-morrow , eight o'clock , to have amends .
+
+
+I cannot find him : may be the knave bragged of that he could not compass .
+
+Heard you that ?
+
+Ay , ay , peace .You use me well , Master Ford , do you ?
+
+Ay , I do so .
+
+Heaven make you better than your thoughts !
+
+Amen !
+
+You do yourself mighty wrong , Master Ford .
+
+Ay , ay ; I must bear it .
+
+If there pe any pody in the house , and in the chambers , and in the coffers , and in the presses , heaven forgive my sins at the day of judgment !
+
+By gar , nor I too , dere is no bodies .
+
+Fie , fie , Master Ford ! are you not ashamed ? What spirit , what devil suggests this imagination ? I would not ha' your distemper in this kind for the wealth of Windsor Castle .
+
+'Tis my fault , Master Page : I suffer for it .
+
+You suffer for a pad conscience : your wife is as honest a 'omans as I will desires among five thousand , and five hundred too .
+
+By gar , I see 'tis an honest woman .
+
+Well ; I promised you a dinner . Come , come , walk in the Park : I pray you , pardon me ; I will hereafter make known to you why I have done this . Come , wife ; come , Mistress Page . I pray you , pardon me ; pray heartily , pardon me .
+
+Let's go in , gentlemen ; but , trust me , we'll mock him . I do invite you to-morrow morning to my house to breakfast ; after , we'll a-birding together : I have a fine hawk for the bush . Shall it be so ?
+
+Any thing .
+
+If there is one , I shall make two in the company .
+
+If dere be one or two , I shall make-a de turd .
+
+Pray you go , Master Page .
+
+I pray you now , remembrance to-morrow on the lousy knave , mine host .
+
+Dat is good ; by gar , vit all my heart .
+
+A lousy knave ! to have his gibes and his mockeries !
+
+
+I see I cannot get thy father's love ;
+Therefore no more turn me to him , sweet Nan .
+
+Alas ! how then ?
+
+Why , thou must be thyself .
+He doth object , I am too great of birth ,
+And that my state being gall'd with my expense ,
+I seek to heal it only by his wealth .
+Besides these , other bars he lays before me ,
+My riots past , my wild societies ;
+And tells me 'tis a thing impossible
+I should love thee but as a property .
+
+May be he tells you true .
+
+No , heaven so speed me in my time to come !
+Albeit I will confess thy father's wealth
+Was the first motive that I woo'd thee , Anne :
+Yet , wooing thee , I found thee of more value
+Than stamps in gold or sums in sealed bags ;
+And 'tis the very riches of thyself
+That now I aim at .
+
+Gentle Master Fenton ,
+Yet seek my father's love ; still seek it , sir :
+If opportunity and humblest suit
+Cannot attain it , why , then ,hark you hither .
+
+Break their talk , Mistress Quickly : my kinsman shall speak for himself .
+
+I'll make a shaft or a bolt on't . 'Slid , 'tis but venturing .
+
+Be not dismayed .
+
+No , she shall not dismay me : I care not for that , but that I am afeard .
+
+Hark ye ; Master Slender would speak a word with you .
+
+I come to him .
+
+This is my father's choice .
+O , what a world of vile ill-favour'd faults
+Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year !
+
+And how does good Master Fenton ? Pray you , a word with you .
+
+She's coming ; to her , coz . O boy , thou hadst a father !
+
+I had a father , Mistress Anne ; my uncle can tell you good jests of him . Pray you , uncle , tell Mistress Anne the jest , how my father stole two geese out of a pen , good uncle .
+
+Mistress Anne , my cousin loves you .
+
+Ay , that I do ; as well as I love any woman in Glostershire .
+
+He will maintain you like a gentlewoman .
+
+Ay , that I will , come cut and long-tail , under the degree of a squire .
+
+He will make you a hundred and fifty pounds jointure .
+
+Good Master Shallow , let him woo for himself .
+
+Marry , I thank you for it ; I thank you for that good comfort . She calls you , coz : I'll leave you .
+
+Now , Master Slender .
+
+Now , good Mistress Anne .
+
+What is your will ?
+
+My will ? od's heartlings ! that's a pretty jest , indeed ! I ne'er made my will yet , I thank heaven ; I am not such a sickly creature , I give heaven praise .
+
+I mean , Master Slender , what would you with me ?
+
+Truly , for mine own part , I would little or nothing with you . Your father and my uncle have made motions : if it be my luck , so ; if not , happy man be his dole ! They can tell you how things go better than I can : you may ask your father ; here he comes .
+
+
+Now , Master Slender : love him , daughter Anne .
+Why , how now ! what does Master Fenton here ?
+You wrong me , sir , thus still to haunt my house :
+I told you , sir , my daughter is dispos'd of .
+
+Nay , Master Page , be not impatient .
+
+Good Master Fenton , come not to my child .
+
+She is no match for you .
+
+Sir , will you hear me ?
+
+No , good Master Fenton .
+Come , Master Shallow ; come , son Slender , in .
+Knowing my mind , you wrong me , Master Fenton .
+
+
+Speak to Mistress Page .
+
+Good Mistress Page , for that I love your daughter
+In such a righteous fashion as I do ,
+Perforce , against all checks , rebukes and manners ,
+I must advance the colours of my love
+And not retire : let me have your good will .
+
+Good mother , do not marry me to yond fool .
+
+I mean it not ; I seek you a better husband .
+
+That's my master , Master doctor .
+
+Alas ! I had rather be set quick i' the earth ,
+And bowl'd to death with turnips .
+
+Come , trouble not yourself . Good Master Fenton ,
+I will not be your friend nor enemy :
+My daughter will I question how she loves you ,
+And as I find her , so am I affected .
+'Till then , farewell , sir : she must needs go in ;
+Her father will be angry .
+
+Farewell , gentle mistress . Farewell , Nan .
+
+
+This is my doing , now : 'Nay ,' said I , 'will you cast away your child on a fool , and a physician ? Look on Master Fenton .' This is my doing .
+
+I thank thee : and I pray thee , once to-night
+Give my sweet Nan this ring . There's for thy pains .
+
+Now heaven send thee good fortune !
+
+A kind heart he hath : a woman would run through fire and water for such a kind heart . But yet I would my master had Mistress Anne ; or I would Master Slender had her ; or , in sooth , I would Master Fenton had her . I will do what I can for them all three , for so I have promised , and I'll be as good as my word ; but speciously for Master Fenton . Well , I must of another errand to Sir John Falstaff from my two mistresses : what a beast am I to slack it !
+
+
+Bardolph , I say ,
+
+Here , sir .
+
+Go fetch me a quart of sack ; put a toast in't .
+
+Have I lived to be carried in a basket , and to be thrown in the Thames like a barrow of butcher's offal ? Well , if I be served such another trick , I'll have my brains ta'en out , and buttered , and give them to a dog for a new year's gift . The rogues slighted me into the river with as little remorse as they would have drowned a blind bitch's puppies , fifteen i' the litter ; and you may know by my size that I have a kind of alacrity in sinking : if the bottom were as deep as hell , I should down . I had been drowned but that the shore was shelvy and shallow ; a death that I abhor , for the water swells a man , and what a thing should I have been when I had been swelled ! I should have been a mountain of mummy .
+
+
+Here's Mistress Quickly , sir , to speak with you .
+
+Come , let me pour in some sack to the Thames water , for my belly's as cold as if I had swallowed snowballs for pills to cool the reins . Call her in .
+
+Come in , woman .
+
+
+By your leave . I cry you mercy : give your worship good morrow .
+
+Take away these chalices . Go brew me a pottle of sack finely .
+
+With eggs , sir ?
+
+Simple of itself ; I'll no pullet-sperm in my brewage .
+
+How now !
+
+Marry , sir , I come to your worship from Mistress Ford .
+
+Mistress Ford ! I have had ford enough ; I was thrown into the ford ; I have my belly full of ford .
+
+Alas the day ! good heart , that was not her fault : she does so take on with her men ; they mistook their erection .
+
+So did I mine , to build upon a foolish woman's promise .
+
+Well , she laments , sir , for it , that it would yearn your heart to see it . Her husband goes this morning a-birding : she desires you once more to come to her between eight and nine . I must carry her word quickly : she'll make you amends , I warrant you .
+
+Well , I will visit her : tell her so ; and bid her think what a man is : let her consider his frailty , and then judge of my merit .
+
+I will tell her .
+
+Do so . Between nine and ten , sayest thou ?
+
+Eight and nine , sir .
+
+Well , be gone : I will not miss her .
+
+Peace be with you , sir .
+
+
+I marvel I hear not of Master Brook ; he sent me word to stay within . I like his money well . O ! here he comes .
+
+
+Bless you , sir !
+
+Now , Master Brook , you come to know what hath passed between me and Ford's wife ?
+
+That , indeed , Sir John , is my business .
+
+Master Brook , I will not lie to you : I was at her house the hour she appointed me .
+
+And how sped you , sir ?
+
+Very ill-favouredly , Master Brook .
+
+How so , sir ? did she change her determination ?
+
+No , Master Brook ; but the peaking cornuto her husband , Master Brook , dwelling in a continual 'larum of jealousy , comes me in the instant of our encounter , after we had embraced , kissed , protested , and , as it were , spoke the prologue of our comedy ; and at his heels a rabble of his companions , thither provoked and instigated by his distemper , and , forsooth , to search his house for his wife's love .
+
+What ! while you were there ?
+
+While I was there .
+
+And did he search for you , and could not find you ?
+
+You shall hear . As good luck would have it , comes in one Mistress Page ; gives intelligence of Ford's approach ; and in her invention , and Ford's wife's distraction , they conveyed me into a buck-basket .
+
+A buck-basket !
+
+By the Lord , a buck-basket ! rammed me in with foul shirts and smocks , socks , foul stockings , greasy napkins ; that , Master Brook , there was the rankest compound of villanous smell that ever offended nostril .
+
+And how long lay you there ?
+
+Nay , you shall hear , Master Brook , what I have suffered to bring this woman to evil for your good . Being thus crammed in the basket , a couple of Ford's knaves , his hinds , were called forth by their mistress to carry me in the name of foul clothes to Datchet-lane : they took me on their shoulders ; met the jealous knave their master in the door , who asked them once or twice what they had in their basket . I quaked for fear lest the lunatic knave would have searched it ; but Fate , ordaining he should be a cuckold , held his hand . Well ; on went he for a search , and away went I for foul clothes . But mark the sequel , Master Brook : I suffered the pangs of three several deaths : first , an intolerable-fright , to be detected with a jealous rotten bell-wether ; next , to be compassed , like a good bilbo , in the circumference of a peck , hilt to point , heel to head ; and then , to be stopped in , like a strong distillation , with stinking clothes that fretted in their own grease : think of that , a man of my kidney , think of that , that am as subject to heat as butter ; a man of continual dissolution and thaw : it was a miracle to 'scape suffocation . And in the height of this bath , when I was more than half stewed in grease , like a Dutch dish , to be thrown into the Thames , and cooled , glowing hot , in that surge , like a horse-shoe ; think of that , hissing hot , think of that , Master Brook !
+
+In good sadness , sir , I am sorry that for my sake you have suffered all this . My suit then is desperate ; you'll undertake her no more ?
+
+Master Brook , I will be thrown into Etna , as I have been into Thames , ere I will leave her thus . Her husband is this morning gone a-birding : I have received from her another embassy of meeting ; 'twixt eight and nine is the hour , Master Brook .
+
+'Tis past eight already , sir .
+
+Is it ? I will then address me to my appointment . Come to me at your convenient leisure , and you shall know how I speed , and the conclusion shall be crowned with your enjoying her : adieu . You shall have her , Master Brook ; Master Brook , you shall cuckold Ford .
+
+
+Hum ! ha ! is this a vision ? is this a dream ? do I sleep ? Master Ford , awake ! awake , Master Ford ! there's a hole made in your best coat , Master Ford . This 'tis to be married : this 'tis to have linen and buck-baskets ! Well , I will proclaim myself what I am : I will now take the lecher ; he is at my house ; he cannot 'scape me ; 'tis impossible he should ; he cannot creep into a half-penny purse , nor into a pepper-box ; but , lest the devil that guides him should aid him , I will search impossible places . Though what I am I cannot avoid , yet to be what I would not , shall not make me tame : if I have horns to make me mad , let the proverb go with me ; I'll be horn-mad .
+
+Is he at Master Ford's already , thinkest thou ?
+
+Sure he is by this , or will be presently ; but truly , he is very courageous mad about his throwing into the water . Mistress Ford desires you to come suddenly .
+
+I'll be with her by and by : I'll but bring my young man here to school . Look , where his master comes ; 'tis a playing-day , I see .
+
+How now , Sir Hugh ! no school to-day ?
+
+No ; Master Slender is get the boys leave to play .
+
+Blessing of his heart !
+
+Sir Hugh , my husband says my son profits nothing in the world at his book : I pray you , ask him some questions in his accidence .
+
+Come hither , William ; hold up your head ; come .
+
+Come on , sirrah ; hold up your head ; answer your master , be not afraid .
+
+William , how many numbers is in nouns ?
+
+Two .
+
+Truly , I thought there had been one number more , because they say , 'Od's nouns .'
+
+Peace your tattlings ! What is fair , William ?
+
+Pulcher .
+
+Polecats ! there are fairer things than polecats , sure .
+
+You are a very simplicity 'oman : I pray you peace . What is lapis , William ?
+
+A stone .
+
+And what is a stone , William ?
+
+A pebble .
+
+No , it is lapis : I pray you remember in your prain .
+
+Lapis .
+
+That is a good William . What is he , William , that does lend articles ?
+
+Articles are borrowed of the pronoun , and be thus declined , Singulariter , nominativo , hic , h c , hoc .
+
+Nominativo , hig , hag , hog ; pray you , mark : genitivo , hujus . Well , what is your accusative case ?
+
+Accusativo , hinc .
+
+I pray you , have your remembrance , child ; accusativo , hung , hang , hog .
+
+Hang hog is Latin for bacon , I warrant you .
+
+Leave your prabbles , 'oman . What is the focative case , William ?
+
+O vocativo , O .
+
+Remember , William ; focative is caret .
+
+And that's a good root .
+
+'Oman , forbear .
+
+Peace !
+
+What is your genitive case plural , William ?
+
+Genitive case ?
+
+Ay .
+
+Genitive , horum , harum , horum .
+
+Vengeance of Jenny's case ! fie on her ! Never name her , child , if she be a whore .
+
+For shame , 'oman !
+
+You do ill to teach the child such words . He teaches him to hick and to hack , which they'll do fast enough of themselves , and to call 'horum ?' fie upon you !
+
+'Oman , art thou lunatics ? hast thou no understandings for thy cases and the numbers and the genders ? Thou art as foolish Christian creatures as I would desires .
+
+Prithee , hold thy peace .
+
+Show me now , William , some declensions of your pronouns .
+
+Forsooth , I have forgot .
+
+It is qui , qu , quod ; if you forget your quis , your qu s , and your quods , you must be preeches . Go your ways and play ; go .
+
+He is a better scholar than I thought he was .
+
+He is a good sprag memory . Farewell , Mistress Page .
+
+Adieu , good Sir Hugh .
+
+Get you home , boy . Come , we stay too long .
+
+
+Mistress Ford , your sorrow hath eaten up my sufferance . I see you are obsequious in your love , and I profess requital to a hair's breadth ; not only , Mistress Ford , in the simple office of love , but in all the accoutrement , complement and ceremony of it . But are you sure of your husband now ?
+
+He's a-birding , sweet Sir John .
+
+What ho ! gossip Ford ! what ho !
+
+Step into the chamber , Sir John .
+
+How now , sweetheart ! who's at home besides yourself ?
+
+Why , none but mine own people .
+
+Indeed !
+
+No , certainly .
+
+Speak louder .
+
+Truly , I am so glad you have nobody here .
+
+Why ?
+
+Why , woman , your husband is in his old lunes again : he so takes on yonder with my husband ; so rails against all married mankind ; so curses all Eve's daughters , of what complexion soever ; and so buffets himself on the forehead , crying , 'Peer out , peer out !' that any madness I ever yet beheld seemed but tameness , civility and patience , to this his distemper he is in now . I am glad the fat knight is not here .
+
+Why , does he talk of him ?
+
+Of none but him ; and swears he was carried out , the last time he searched for him , in a basket : protests to my husband he is now here , and hath drawn him and the rest of their company from their sport , to make another experiment of his suspicion . But I am glad the knight is not here ; now he shall see his own foolery .
+
+How near is he , Mistress Page ?
+
+Hard by ; at street end ; he will be here anon .
+
+I am undone ! the knight is here .
+
+Why then you are utterly shamed , and he's but a dead man . What a woman are you ! Away with him , away with him ! better shame than murder .
+
+Which way should he go ? how should I bestow him ? Shall I put him into the basket again ?
+
+
+No , I'll come no more i' the basket . May I not go out ere he come ?
+
+Alas ! three of Master Ford's brothers watch the door with pistols , that none shall issue out ; otherwise you might slip away ere he came . But what make you here ?
+
+What shall I do ? I'll creep up into the chimney .
+
+There they always use to discharge their birding-pieces .
+
+Creep into the kiln-hole .
+
+Where is it ?
+
+He will seek there , on my word . Neither press , coffer , chest , trunk , well , vault , but he hath an abstract for the remembrance of such places , and goes to them by his note : there is no hiding you in the house .
+
+I'll go out , then .
+
+If you go out in your own semblance , you die , Sir John . Unless you go out disguised ,
+
+How might we disguise him ?
+
+Alas the day ! I know not . There is no woman's gown big enough for him ; otherwise , he might put on a hat , a muffler , and a kerchief , and so escape .
+
+Good hearts , devise something : any extremity rather than a mischief .
+
+My maid's aunt , the fat woman of Brainford , has a gown above .
+
+On my word , it will serve him ; she's as big as he is : and there's her thrummed hat and her muffler too . Run up , Sir John .
+
+Go , go , sweet Sir John : Mistress Page and I will look some linen for your head .
+
+Quick , quick ! we'll come dress you straight ; put on the gown the while .
+
+
+I would my husband would meet him in this shape : he cannot abide the old woman of Brainford ; he swears she's a witch ; forbade her my house , and hath threatened to beat her .
+
+Heaven guide him to thy husband's cudgel , and the devil guide his cudgel afterwards !
+
+But is my husband coming ?
+
+Ay , in good sadness , is he ; and talks of the basket too , howsoever he hath had intelligence .
+
+We'll try that ; for I'll appoint my men to carry the basket again , to meet him at the door with it , as they did last time .
+
+Nay , but he'll be here presently : let's go dress him like the witch of Brainford .
+
+I'll first direct my men what they shall do with the basket . Go up ; I'll bring linen for him straight .
+
+
+Hang him , dishonest varlet ! we cannot misuse him enough .
+We'll leave a proof , by that which we will do ,
+Wives may be merry , and yet honest too :
+We do not act that often jest and laugh ;
+'Tis old , but true , 'Still swine eats all the draff .'
+
+Go , sirs , take the basket again on your shoulders : your master is hard at door ; if he bid you set it down , obey him . Quickly ; dispatch .
+
+
+Come , come , take it up .
+
+Pray heaven , it be not full of knight again .
+
+I hope not ; I had as lief bear so much lead .
+
+
+Ay , but if it prove true , Master Page , have you any way then to unfool me again ? Set down the basket , villains . Somebody call my wife . Youth in a basket ! O you panderly rascals ! there's a knot , a ging , a pack , a conspiracy against me : now shall the devil be shamed . What , wife , I say ! Come , come forth ! Behold what honest clothes you send forth to bleaching !
+
+Why , this passes ! Master Ford , you are not to go loose any longer ; you must be pinioned .
+
+Why , this is lunatics ! this is mad as a mad dog !
+
+Indeed , Master Ford , this is not well , indeed .
+
+So say I too , sir .
+
+Come hither , Mistress Ford , the honest woman , the modest wife , the virtuous creature , that hath the jealous fool to her husband ! I suspect without cause , mistress , do I ?
+
+Heaven by my witness , you do , if you suspect me in any dishonesty .
+
+Well said , brazen-face ! hold it out . Come forth , sirrah !
+
+
+This passes !
+
+Are you not ashamed ? let the clothes alone .
+
+I shall find you anon .
+
+'Tis unreasonable . Will you take up your wife's clothes ? Come away .
+
+Empty the basket , I say !
+
+Why , man , why ?
+
+Master Page , as I am an honest man , there was one conveyed out of my house yesterday in this basket : why may not he be there again ? In my house I am sure he is ; my intelligence is true ; my jealousy is reasonable . Pluck me out all the linen .
+
+If you find a man there he shall die a flea's death .
+
+Here's no man .
+
+By my fidelity , this is not well , Master Ford ; this wrongs you .
+
+Master Ford , you must pray , and not follow the imaginations of your own heart : this is jealousies .
+
+Well , he's not here I seek for .
+
+No , nor nowhere else but in your brain .
+
+
+Help to search my house this one time : if I find not what I seek , show no colour for my extremity ; let me for ever be your table-sport ; let them say of me , 'As jealous as Ford , that searched a hollow walnut for his wife's leman .' Satisfy me once more ; once more search with me .
+
+What ho , Mistress Page ! come you and the old woman down ; my husband will come into the chamber .
+
+Old woman ! What old woman's that ?
+
+Why , it is my maid's aunt of Brainford .
+
+A witch , a quean , an old cozening quean ! Have I not forbid her my house ? She comes of errands , does she ? We are simple men ; we do not know what's brought to pass under the profession of fortune-telling . She works by charms , by spells , by the figure , and such daubery as this is , beyond our element : we know nothing . Come down , you witch , you hag , you ; come down , I say !
+
+Nay , good , sweet husband ! good gentlemen , let him not strike the old woman .
+
+
+Come , Mother Prat ; come , give me your hand .
+
+I'll 'prat' her .
+
+Out of my door , you witch , you rag , you baggage , you polecat , you ronyon ! out , out ! I'll conjure you , I'll fortune-tell you .
+
+
+Are you not ashamed ? I think you have killed the poor woman .
+
+Nay , he will do it . 'Tis a goodly credit for you .
+
+Hang her , witch !
+
+By yea and no , I think the 'oman is a witch indeed : I like not when a 'oman has a great peard ; I spy a great peard under her muffler .
+
+Will you follow , gentlemen ? I beseech you , follow : see but the issue of my jealousy . If I cry out thus upon no trail , never trust me when I open again .
+
+Let's obey his humour a little further . Come , gentlemen .
+
+
+Trust me , he beat him most pitifully .
+
+Nay , by the mass , that he did not ; he beat him most unpitifully methought .
+
+I'll have the cudgel hallowed and hung o'er the altar : it hath done meritorious service .
+
+What think you ? May we , with the warrant of womanhood and the witness of a good conscience , pursue him with any further revenge ?
+
+The spirit of wantonness is , sure , scared out of him : if the devil have him not in fee-simple , with fine and recovery , he will never , I think , in the way of waste , attempt us again .
+
+Shall we tell our husbands how we have served him ?
+
+Yes , by all means ; if it be but to scrape the figures out of your husband's brains . If they can find in their hearts the poor unvirtuous fat knight shall be any further afflicted , we two will still be the ministers .
+
+I'll warrant they'll have him publicly shamed , and methinks there would be no period to the jest , should he not be publicly shamed .
+
+Come , to the forge with it then ; shape it : I would not have things cool .
+
+
+Sir , the Germans desire to have three of your horses : the duke himself will be to-morrow at court , and they are going to meet him .
+
+What duke should that be comes so secretly ? I hear not of him in the court . Let me speak with the gentlemen ; they speak English ?
+
+Ay , sir ; I'll call them to you .
+
+They shall have my horses , but I'll make them pay ; I'll sauce them : they have had my house a week at command ; I have turned away my other guests : they must come off ; I'll sauce them . Come .
+
+
+'Tis one of the pest discretions of a 'oman as ever I did look upon .
+
+And did he send you both these letters at an instant ?
+
+Within a quarter of an hour .
+
+Pardon me , wife . Henceforth do what thou wilt ;
+I rather will suspect the sun with cold
+Than thee with wantonness : now doth thy honour stand ,
+In him that was of late an heretic ,
+As firm as faith .
+
+'Tis well , 'tis well ; no more .
+Be not as extreme in submission
+As in ofrence ;
+But let our plot go forward : let our wives
+Yet once again , to make us public sport ,
+Appoint a meeting with this old fat fellow ,
+Where we may take him and disgrace him for it .
+
+There is no better way than that they spoke of .
+
+How ? to send him word they'll meet him in the Park at midnight ? Fie , fie ! he'll never come .
+
+You say he has been thrown into the rivers , and has been grievously peaten as an old 'oman : methinks there should be terrors in him that he should not come ; methinks his flesh is punished , he shall have no desires .
+
+So think I too .
+
+Devise but how you'll use him when he comes ,
+And let us two devise to bring him thither .
+
+There is an old tale goes that Herne the hunter ,
+Sometime a keeper here in Windsor forest ,
+Doth all the winter-time , at still midnight ,
+Walk round about an oak , with great ragg'd horns ;
+And there he blasts the tree , and takes the cattle ,
+And makes milch-kine yield blood , and shakes a chain
+In a most hideous and dreadful manner :
+You have heard of such a spirit , and well you know
+The superstitious idle-headed eld
+Receiv'd and did deliver to our age
+This tale of Herne the hunter for a truth .
+
+Why , yet there want not many that do fear
+In deep of night to walk by this Herne's oak .
+But what of this ?
+
+Marry , this is our device ;
+That Falstaff at that oak shall meet with us ,
+Disguis'd like Herne with huge horns on his head .
+
+Well , let it not be doubted but he'll come ,
+And in this shape when you have brought him thither ,
+What shall be done with him ? what is your plot ?
+
+That likewise have we thought upon , and thus :
+Nan Page my daughter , and my little son ,
+And three or four more of their growth , we'll dress
+Like urchins , ouphs and fairies , green and white ,
+With rounds of waxen tapers on their heads ,
+And rattles in their hands . Upon a sudden ,
+As Falstaff , she , and I , are newly met ,
+Let them from forth a sawpit rush at once
+With some diffused song : upon their sight ,
+We two in great amazedness will fly :
+Then let them all encircle him about ,
+And , fairy-like , to-pinch the unclean knight ;
+And ask him why , that hour of fairy revel ,
+In their so sacred paths he dares to tread
+In shape profane .
+
+And till he tell the truth ,
+Let the supposed fairies pinch him sound
+And burn him with their tapers .
+
+The truth being known ,
+We'll all present ourselves , dis-horn the spirit ,
+And mock him home to Windsor .
+
+The children must
+Be practis'd well to this , or they'll ne'er do't .
+
+I will teach the children their behaviours ; and I will be like a jack-an-apes also , to burn the knight with my taber .
+
+That will be excellent . I'll go buy them vizards .
+
+My Nan shall be the queen of all the fairies ,
+Finely attired in a robe of white .
+
+That silk will I go buy :
+
+and in that time
+Shall Master Slender steal my Nan away ,
+And marry her at Eton . Go , send to Falstaff straight .
+
+Nay , I'll to him again in name of Brook ;
+He'll tell me all his purpose . Sure , he'll come .
+
+Fear not you that . Go , get us properties ,
+And tricking for our fairies .
+
+Let us about it : it is admirable pleasures and fery honest knaveries .
+
+
+Go , Mistress Ford ,
+Send Quickly to Sir John , to know his mind .
+
+I'll to the doctor : he hath my good will ,
+And none but he , to marry with Nan Page .
+That Slender , though well landed , is an idiot ;
+And him my husband best of all affects :
+The doctor is well money'd , and his friends
+Potent at court : he , none but he , shall have her ,
+Though twenty thousand worthier come to crave her .
+
+
+What wouldst thou have , boor ? what , thick-skin ? speak , breathe , discuss ; brief , short , quick , snap .
+
+Marry , sir , I come to speak with Sir John Falstaff from Master Slender .
+
+There's his chamber , his house , his castle , his standing-bed and truckle-bed : 'tis painted about with the story of the Prodigal , fresh and new . Go knock and call : he'll speak like an Anthropophaginian unto thee : knock , I say .
+
+There's an old woman , a fat woman , gone up into his chamber : I'll be so bold as stay , sir , till she come down ; I come to speak with her , indeed .
+
+Ha ! a fat woman ! the knight may be robbed : I'll call . Bully knight ! Bully Sir John ! speak from thy lungs military : art thou there ? it is thine host , thine Ephesian , calls .
+
+How now , mine host !
+
+Here's a Bohemian-Tartar tarries the coming down of thy fat woman . Let her descend , bully ; let her descend ; my chambers are honourable : fie ! privacy ? fie !
+
+
+There was , mine host , an old fat woman even now with me , but she's gone .
+
+Pray you , sir , was't not the wise woman of Brainford ?
+
+Ay , marry , was it , muscle-shell : what would you with her ?
+
+My Master , sir , Master Slender , sent to her , seeing her go thorough the streets , to know , sir , whether one Nym , sir , that beguiled him of a chain , had the chain or no .
+
+I spake with the old woman about it .
+
+And what says she , I pray , sir ?
+
+Marry , she says that the very same man that beguiled Master Slender of his chain cozened him of it .
+
+I would I could have spoken with the woman herself : I had other things to have spoken with her too , from him .
+
+What are they ? let us know .
+
+Ay , come ; quick .
+
+I may not conceal them , sir .
+
+Conceal them , or thou diest .
+
+Why , sir , they were nothing but about Mistress Anne Page ; to know if it were my master's fortune to have her or no .
+
+'Tis , 'tis his fortune .
+
+What , sir ?
+
+To have her , or no . Go ; say the woman told me so .
+
+May I be bold to say so , sir ?
+
+Ay , Sir Tike ; who more bold ?
+
+I thank your worship : I shall make my master glad with these tidings .
+
+
+Thou art clerkly , thou art clerkly , Sir John . Was there a wise woman with thee ?
+
+Ay , that there was , mine host ; one that hath taught me more wit than ever I learned before in my life : and I paid nothing for it neither , but was paid for my learning .
+
+
+Out , alas , sir ! cozenage , mere cozenage !
+
+Where be my horses ? speak well of them , varletto .
+
+Run away , with the cozeners ; for so soon as I came beyond Eton , they threw me off , from behind one of them , in a slough of mire ; and set spurs and away , like three German devils , three Doctor Faustuses .
+
+They are gone but to meet the duke , villain . Do not say they be fled : Germans are honest men .
+
+
+Where is mine host ?
+
+What is the matter , sir ?
+
+Have a care of your entertainments : there is a friend of mine come to town , tells me , there is three cozen-germans that has cozened all the hosts of Readins , of Maidenhead , of Colebrook , of horses and money . I tell you for good will , look you : you are wise and full of gibes and vlouting-stogs , and 'tis not convenient you should be cozened . Fare you well .
+
+Vere is mine host de Jarteer ?
+
+Here , Master doctor , in perplexity and doubtful dilemma .
+
+I cannot tell vat is dat ; but it is tell-a me dat you make grand preparation for a duke de Jamany : by my trot , dere is no duke dat de court is know to come . I tell you for good vill : adieu .
+
+
+Hue and cry , villain ! go . Assist me , knight ; I am undone . Fly , run , hue and cry , villain ! I am undone !
+
+
+I would all the world might be cozened , for I have been cozened and beaten too . If it should come to the ear of the court how I have been transformed , and how my transformation hath been washed and cudgelled , they would melt me out of my fat drop by drop , and liquor fishermen's boots with me : I warrant they would whip me with their fine wits till I were as crest-fallen as a dried pear . I never prospered since I forswore myself at primero . Well , if my wind were but long enough to say my prayers , I would repent .
+
+Now , whence come you ?
+
+From the two parties , forsooth .
+
+The devil take one party and his dam the other ! and so they shall be both bestowed . I have suffered more for their sakes , more than the villanous inconstancy of man's disposition is able to bear .
+
+And have not they suffered ? Yes , I warrant ; speciously one of them : Mistress Ford , good heart , is beaten black and blue , that you cannot see a white spot about her .
+
+What tellest thou me of black and blue ? I was beaten myself into all the colours of the rainbow ; and I was like to be apprehended for the witch of Brainford : but that my admirable dexterity of wit , my counterfeiting the action of an old woman , delivered me , the knave constable had set me i' the stocks , i' the common stocks , for a witch .
+
+Sir , let me speak with you in your chamber ; you shall hear how things go , and , I warrant , to your content . Here is a letter will say somewhat . Good hearts ! what ado here is to bring you together ! Sure , one of you does not serve heaven well , that you are so crossed .
+
+Come up into my chamber .
+
+
+Master Fenton , talk not to me : my mind is heavy ; I will give over all .
+
+Yet hear me speak . Assist me in my purpose ,
+And , as I am a gentleman , I'll give thee
+A hundred pound in gold more than your loss .
+
+I will hear you , Master Fenton ; and I will , at the least , keep your counsel .
+
+From time to time I have acquainted you
+With the dear love I bear to fair Anne Page ;
+Who , mutually hath answer'd my affection ,
+So far forth as herself might be her chooser ,
+Even to my wish . I have a letter from her
+Of such contents as you will wonder at ;
+The mirth whereof so larded with my matter ,
+That neither singly can be manifested ,
+Without the show of both ; wherein fat Falstaff
+Hath a great scare : the image of the jest
+I'll show you here at large
+
+Hark , good mine host :
+To-night at Herne's oak , just 'twixt twelve and one ,
+Must my sweet Nan present the Fairy Queen ;
+The purpose why , is here : in which disguise ,
+While other jests are something rank on foot ,
+Her father hath commanded her to slip
+Away with Slender , and with him at Eton
+Immediately to marry : she hath consented :
+Now , sir ,
+Her mother , even strong against that match
+And firm for Doctor Caius , hath appointed
+That he shall likewise shuffle her away ,
+While other sports are tasking of their minds ;
+And at the deanery , where a priest attends ,
+Straight marry her : to this her mother's plot
+She , seemingly obedient , likewise hath
+Made promise to the doctor . Now , thus it rests :
+Her father means she shall be all in white ,
+And in that habit , when Slender sees his time
+To take her by the hand and bid her go ,
+She shall go with him : her mother hath intended ,
+The better to denote her to the doctor ,
+For they must all be mask'd and vizarded
+That quaint in green she shall be loose enrob'd ,
+With ribands pendent , flaring 'bout her head ;
+And when the doctor spies his vantage ripe ,
+To pinch her by the hand ; and on that token
+The maid hath given consent to go with him .
+
+Which means she to deceive , father or mother ?
+
+Both , my good host , to go along with me :
+And here it rests , that you'll procure the vicar
+To stay for me at church 'twixt twelve and one ,
+And , in the lawful name of marrying ,
+To give our hearts united ceremony .
+
+Well , husband your device ; I'll to the vicar .
+Bring you the maid , you shall not lack a priest .
+
+So shall I evermore be bound to thee ;
+Besides , I'll make a present recompense .
+
+Prithee , no more prattling ; go : I'll hold . This is the third time ; I hope good luck lies in odd numbers . Away ! go . They say there is divinity in odd numbers , either in nativity , chance or death . Away !
+
+I'll provide you a chain , and I'll do what I can to get you a pair of horns .
+
+Away , I say ; time wears : hold up your head , and mince .
+
+
+How now , Master Brook ! Master Brook , the matter will be known to-night , or never . Be you in the Park about midnight , at Herne's oak , and you shall see wonders .
+
+Went you not to her yesterday , sir , as you told me you had appointed ?
+
+I went to her , Master Brook , as you see , like a poor old man ; but I came from her , Master Brook , like a poor old woman . That same knave Ford , her husband , hath the finest mad devil of jealousy in him , Master Brook , that ever governed frenzy . I will tell you : he beat me grievously , in the shape of a woman ; for in the shape of a man , Master Brook , I fear not Goliath with a weaver's beam , because I know also life is a shuttle . I am in haste : go along with me ; I'll tell you all , Master Brook . Since I plucked geese , played traunt , and whipped top , I knew not what it was to be beaten till lately . Follow me : I'll tell you strange things of this knave Ford , on whom to-night I will be revenged , and I will deliver his wife into your hand . Follow . Strange things in hand , Master Brook ! Follow .
+
+
+Come , come ; we'll couch i' the castle-ditch till we see the light of our fairies . Remember , son Slender , my daughter .
+
+Ay , forsooth ; I have spoke with her and we have a nayword how to know one another . I come to her in white , and cry , 'mum ;' she cries , 'budget ;' and by that we know one another .
+
+That's good too : but what needs either your 'mum ,' or her 'budget ?' the white will decipher her well enough . It hath struck ten o'clock .
+
+The night is dark ; light and spirits will become it well . Heaven prosper our sport ! No man means evil but the devil , and we shall know him by his horns . Let's away ; follow me .
+
+
+Master Doctor , my daughter is in green : when you see your time , take her by the hand , away with her to the deanery , and dispatch it quickly . Go before into the Park : we two must go together .
+
+I know vat I have to do . Adieu .
+
+Fare you well , sir .
+
+My husband will not rejoice so much at the abuse of Falstaff , as he will chafe at the doctor's marrying my daughter : but 'tis no matter ; better a little chiding than a great deal of heart break .
+
+Where is Nan now and her troop of fairies , and the Welsh devil , Hugh ?
+
+They are all couched in a pit hard by Herne's oak , with obscured lights ; which , at the very instant of Falstaff's and our meeting , they will at once display to the night .
+
+That cannot choose but amaze him .
+
+If he be not amazed , he will be mocked ; if he be amazed , he will every way be mocked .
+
+We'll betray him finely .
+
+Against such lewdsters and their lechery ,
+Those that betray them do no treachery .
+
+The hour draws on : to the oak , to the oak !
+
+
+Trib , trib , fairies : come ; and remember your parts . Be pold , I pray you ; follow me into the pit , and when I give the watch-ords , do as I pid you . Come , come ; trib , trib .
+
+
+The Windsor bell hath struck twelve ; the minute draws on . Now , the hot-blooded gods assist me ! Remember , Jove , thou wast a bull for thy Europa ; love set on thy horns . O powerful love ! that , in some respects , makes a beast a man ; in some other , a man a beast . You were also , Jupiter , a swan for the love of Leda ; O omnipotent love ! how near the god drew to the complexion of a goose ! A fault done first in the form of a beast ; O Jove , a beastly fault ! and then another fault in the semblance of a fowl : think on 't , Jove ; a foul fault ! When gods have hot backs , what shall poor men do ? For me , I am here a Windsor stag ; and the fattest , I think , i' the forest : send me a cool rut-time , Jove , or who can blame me to piss my tallow ? Who comes here ? my doe ?
+
+
+Sir John ! art thou there , my deer ? my male deer ?
+
+My doe with the black scut ! Let the sky rain potatoes ; let it thunder to the tune of 'Green Sleeves ;' hail kissing-comfits and snow eringoes ; let there come a tempest of provocation , I will shelter me here .
+
+
+Mistress Page is come with me , sweetheart .
+
+Divide me like a brib'd buck , each a haunch : I will keep my sides to myself , my shoulders for the fellow of this walk , and my horns I bequeath your husbands . Am I a woodman , ha ? Speak I like Herne the hunter ? Why , now is Cupid a child of conscience ; he makes restitution . As I am a true spirit , welcome !
+
+
+Alas ! what noise ?
+
+Heaven forgive our sins !
+
+What should this be ?
+
+Away , away !
+
+Away , away !
+
+
+I think the devil will not have me damned , lest the oil that is in me should set hell on fire ; he would never else cross me thus .
+
+
+Fairies , black , grey , green , and white ,
+You moonshine revellers , and shades of night ,
+You orphan heirs of fixed destiny ,
+Attend your office and your quality .
+Crier Hobgoblin , make the fairy oyes .
+
+Elves , list your names : silence , you airy toys !
+Cricket , to Windsor chimneys shalt thou leap :
+Where fires thou find'st unrak'd and hearths unswept ,
+There pinch the maids as blue as bilberry :
+Our radiant queen hates sluts and sluttery .
+
+They are fairies ; he that speaks to them shall die :
+I'll wink and couch : no man their works must eye .
+
+
+Where's Bede ? Go you , and where you find a maid
+That , ere she sleep , has thrice her prayers said ,
+Rein up the organs of her fantasy ,
+Sleep she as sound as careless infancy ;
+But those that sleep and think not on their sins ,
+Pinch them , arms , legs , backs , shoulders , sides , and shins .
+
+About , about !
+Search Windsor castle , elves , within and out :
+Strew good luck , ouphs , on every sacred room ,
+That it may stand till the perpetual doom ,
+In state as wholesome as in state 'tis fit ,
+Worthy the owner , and the owner it .
+The several chairs of order look you scour
+With juice of balm and every precious flower :
+Each fair instalment , coat , and several crest ,
+With loyal blazon , ever more be blest !
+And nightly , meadow-fairies , look you sing ,
+Like to the Garter's compass , in a ring :
+The expressure that it bears , green let it be ,
+More fertile-fresh than all the field to see ;
+And , Honi soit qui mal y pense write
+In emerald tufts , flowers purple , blue , and white ;
+Like sapphire , pearl , and rich embroidery ,
+Buckled below fair knighthood's bending knee :
+Fairies use flowers for their charactery .
+Away ! disperse ! But , till 'tis one o'clock ,
+Our dance of custom round about the oak
+Of Herne the hunter , let us not forget .
+
+Pray you , lock hand in hand ; yourselves in order set ;
+And twenty glow-worms shall our lanthorns be ,
+To guide our measure round about the tree .
+But , stay ; I smell a man of middle-earth .
+
+Heavens defend me from that Welsh fairy , lest he transform me to a piece of cheese !
+
+Vile worm , thou wast o'erlook'd even in thy birth .
+
+With trial-fire touch me his finger-end :
+If he be chaste , the flame will back descend
+And turn him to no pain ; but if he start ,
+It is the flesh of a corrupted heart .
+
+A trial ! come .
+
+Come , will this wood take fire ?
+
+
+Oh , oh , oh !
+
+Corrupt , corrupt , and tainted in desire !
+About him , fairies , sing a scornful rime ;
+And , as you trip , still pinch him to your time .
+
+Fie on sinful fantasy !
+Fie on lust and luxury !
+Lust is but a bloody fire ,
+Kindled with unchaste desire ,
+Fed in heart , whose flames aspire ,
+As thoughts do blow them higher and higher .
+Pinch him , fairies , mutually ;
+Pinch him for his villany ;
+Pinch him , and burn him , and turn him about ,
+Till candles and star-light and moonshine be out .
+
+
+Nay , do not fly : I think we have watch'd you now :
+Will none but Herne the hunter serve your turn ?
+
+I pray you , come , hold up the jest no higher .
+Now , good Sir John , how like you Windsor wives ?
+See you these , husband ? do not these fair yokes
+Become the forest better than the town ?
+
+Now sir , who's a cuckold now ? Master Brook , Falstaff's a knave , a cuckoldly knave ; here are his horns , Master Brook : and , Master Brook , he hath enjoyed nothing of Ford's but his buck-basket , his cudgel , and twenty pounds of money , which must be paid too , Master Brook ; his horses are arrested for it , Master Brook .
+
+Sir John , we have had ill luck ; we could never meet . I will never take you for my love again , but I will always count you my deer .
+
+I do begin to perceive that I am made an ass .
+
+Ay , and an ox too ; both the proofs are extant .
+
+And these are not fairies ? I was three or four times in the thought they were not fairies ; and yet the guiltiness of my mind , the sudden surprise of my powers , drove the grossness of the foppery into a received belief , in despite of the teeth of all rime and reason , that they were fairies . See now how wit may be made a Jack-a-lent , when 'tis upon ill employment !
+
+Sir John Falstaff , serve Got , and leave your desires , and fairies will not pinse you .
+
+Well said , fairy Hugh .
+
+And leave you your jealousies too , I pray you .
+
+I will never mistrust my wife again , till thou art able to woo her in good English .
+
+Have I laid my brain in the sun and dried it , that it wants matter to prevent so gross o'er-reaching as this ? Am I ridden with a Welsh goat too ? shall I have a coxcomb of frize ? 'Tis time I were choked with a piece of toasted cheese .
+
+Seese is not goot to give putter : your pelly is all putter .
+
+'Seese' and 'putter !' have I lived to stand at the taunt of one that makes fritters of English ? This is enough to be the decay of lust and late-walking through the realm .
+
+Why , Sir John , do you think , though we would have thrust virtue out of our hearts by the head and shoulders , and have given ourselves without scruple to hell , that ever the devil could have made you our delight ?
+
+What , a hodge-pudding ? a bag of flax ?
+
+A puffed man ?
+
+Old , cold , withered , and of intolerable entrails ?
+
+And one that is as slanderous as Satan ?
+
+And as poor as Job ?
+
+And as wicked as his wife ?
+
+And given to fornications , and to taverns , and sack and wine and metheglins , and to drinkings and swearings and starings , pribbles and prabbles ?
+
+Well , I am your theme : you have the start of me ; I am dejected ; I am not able to answer the Welsh flannel . Ignorance itself is a plummet o'er me : use me as you will .
+
+Marry , sir , we'll bring you to Windsor , to one Master Brook , that you have cozened of money , to whom you should have been a pander : over and above that you have suffered , I think , to repay that money will be a biting affliction .
+
+Nay , husband , let that go to make amends ;
+Forgive that sum , and so we'll all be friends .
+
+Well , here's my hand : all is forgiven at last .
+
+Yet be cheerful , knight : thou shalt eat a posset to-night at my house ; where I will desire thee to laugh at my wife , that now laughs at thee . Tell her , Master Slender hath married her daughter .
+
+Doctors doubt that : if Anne Page be my daughter , she is , by this Doctor Caius' wife .
+
+
+Whoa , ho ! ho ! father Page !
+
+Son , how now ! how now , son ! have you dispatched ?
+
+Dispatched ! I'll make the best in Gloster-shire know on 't ; would I were hanged , la , else !
+
+Of what , son ?
+
+I came yonder at Eton to marry Mistress Anne Page , and she's a great lubberly boy : if it had not been i' the church , I would have swinged him , or he should have swinged me . If I did not think it had been Anne Page , would I might never stir ! and 'tis a postmaster's boy .
+
+Upon my life , then , you took the wrong .
+
+What need you tell me that ? I think so , when I took a boy for a girl . If I had been married to him , for all he was in woman's apparel , I would not have had him .
+
+Why , this is your own folly . Did not I tell you how you should know my daughter by her garments ?
+
+I went to her in white , and cried , 'mum ,' and she cried 'budget ,' as Anne and I had appointed ; and yet it was not Anne , but a postmaster's boy .
+
+Jeshu ! Master Slender , cannot you see put marry poys ?
+
+O I am vexed at heart : what shall I do ?
+
+Good George , be not angry : I knew of your purpose ; turned my daughter into green ; and , indeed , she is now with the doctor at the deanery , and there married .
+
+
+Vere is Mistress Page ? By gar , I am cozened : I ha' married un gar on , a boy ; un paysan , by gar , a boy ; it is not Anne Page : by gar , I am cozened .
+
+Why , did you not take her in green ?
+
+Ay , by gar , and 'tis a boy : by gar , I'll raise all Windsor .
+
+
+This is strange . Who hath got the right Anne ?
+
+My heart misgives me : here comes Master Fenton .
+
+How now , Master Fenton !
+
+Pardon , good father ! good my mother , pardon !
+
+Now , mistress , how chance you went not with Master Slender ?
+
+Why went you not with Master Doctor , maid ?
+
+You do amaze her : hear the truth of it .
+You would have married her most shamefully ,
+Where there was no proportion held in love .
+The truth is , she and I , long since contracted ,
+Are now so sure that nothing can dissolve us .
+The offence is holy that she hath committed ,
+And this deceit loses the name of craft ,
+Of disobedience , or unduteous title ,
+Since therein she doth evitate and shun
+A thousand irreligious cursed hours ,
+Which forced marriage would have brought upon her .
+
+Stand not amaz'd : here is no remedy :
+In love the heavens themselves do guide the state :
+Money buys lands , and wives are sold by fate .
+
+I am glad , though you have ta'en a special stand to strike at me , that your arrow hath glanced .
+
+Well , what remedy ?Fenton , heaven give thee joy !
+What cannot be eschew'd must be embrac'd .
+
+When night dogs run all sorts of deer are chas'd .
+
+Well , I will muse no further . Master Fenton ,
+Heaven give you many , many merry days !
+Good husband , let us every one go home ,
+And laugh this sport o'er by a country fire ;
+Sir John and all .
+
+Let it be so . Sir John ,
+To Master Brook you yet shall hold your word ;
+For he to-night shall lie with Mistress Ford .
+
+THE TAMING OF THE SHREW
+
+
+I'll pheeze you , in faith .
+
+A pair of stocks , you rogue !
+
+Y'are a baggage : the Slys are no rogues ; look in the chronicles ; we came in with Richard Conqueror . Therefore , paucas pallabris ; let the world slide . Sessa !
+
+You will not pay for the glasses you have burst ?
+
+No , not a denier . Go by , Jeronimy , go to thy cold bed , and warm thee .
+
+I know my remedy : I must go fetch the third-borough .
+
+
+Third , or fourth , or fifth borough , I'll answer him by law . I'll not budge an inch , boy : let him come , and kindly .
+
+Huntsman , I charge thee , tender well my hounds :
+Brach Merriman , the poor cur is emboss'd ,
+And couple Clowder with the deep-mouth'd brach .
+Saw'st thou not , boy , how Silver made it good
+At the hedge-corner , in the coldest fault ?
+I would not lose the dog for twenty pound .
+
+Why , Bellman is as good as he , my lord ;
+He cried upon it at the merest loss ,
+And twice to-day pick'd out the dullest scent :
+Trust me , I take him for the better dog .
+
+Thou art a fool : if Echo were as fleet ,
+I would esteem him worth a dozen such .
+But sup them well , and look unto them all :
+To-morrow I intend to hunt again .
+
+I will , my lord .
+
+What's here ? one dead , or drunk ? See , doth he breathe ?
+
+He breathes , my lord . Were he not warm'd with ale ,
+This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly .
+
+O monstrous beast ! how like a swine he lies !
+Grim death , how foul and loathsome is thine image !
+Sirs , I will practise on this drunken man .
+What think you , if he were convey'd to bed ,
+Wrapp'd in sweet clothes , rings put upon his fingers ,
+A most delicious banquet by his bed ,
+And brave attendants near him when he wakes ,
+Would not the beggar then forget himself ?
+
+Believe me , lord , I think he cannot choose .
+
+It would seem strange unto him when he wak'd .
+
+Even as a flattering dream or worthless fancy .
+Then take him up and manage well the jest .
+Carry him gently to my fairest chamber ,
+And hang it round with all my wanton pictures ;
+Balm his foul head in warm distilled waters ,
+And burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweet .
+Procure me music ready when he wakes ,
+To make a dulcet and a heavenly sound ;
+And if he chance to speak , be ready straight ,
+And with a low submissive reverence
+Say , 'What is it your honour will command ?'
+Let one attend him with a silver basin
+Full of rose-water , and bestrew'd with flowers ;
+Another bear the ewer , the third a diaper ,
+And say , 'Will't please your lordship cool your hands ?'
+Some one be ready with a costly suit ,
+And ask him what apparel he will wear ;
+Another tell him of his hounds and horse ,
+And that his lady mourns at his disease .
+Persuade him that he hath been lunatic ;
+And , when he says he is say that he dreams ,
+For he is nothing but a mighty lord .
+This do , and do it kindly , gentle sirs :
+It will be pastime passing excellent ,
+If it be husbanded with modesty .
+
+My lord , I warrant you we will play our part ,
+As he shall think , by our true diligence ,
+He is no less than what we say he is .
+
+Take him up gently , and to bed with him ,
+And each one to his office when he wakes .
+
+Sirrah , go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds :
+
+Belike , some noble gentleman that means ,
+Travelling some journey , to repose him here .
+
+How now ! who is it ?
+
+An it please your honour ,
+Players that offer service to your lordship .
+
+Bid them come near .
+
+Now , fellows , you are welcome .
+
+We thank your honour .
+
+Do you intend to stay with me to-night ?
+
+So please your lordship to accept our duty .
+
+With all my heart . This fellow I remember ,
+Since once he play'd a farmer's eldest son :
+'Twas where you woo'd the gentlewoman so well .
+I have forgot your name ; but , sure , that part
+Was aptly fitted and naturally perform'd .
+
+I think 'twas Soto that your honour means .
+
+'Tis very true : thou didst it excellent .
+Well , you are come to me in happy time ,
+The rather for I have some sport in hand
+Wherein your cunning can assist me much .
+There is a lord will hear you play to-night ;
+But I am doubtful of your modesties ,
+Lest , over-eyeing of his odd behaviour ,
+For yet his honour never heard a play ,
+You break into some merry passion
+And so offend him ; for I tell you , sirs ,
+If you should smile he grows impatient .
+
+Fear not , my lord : we can contain ourselves
+Were he the veriest antick in the world .
+
+Go , sirrah , take them to the buttery ,
+And give them friendly welcome every one :
+Let them want nothing that my house affords .
+
+Sirrah , go you to Barthol'mew my page ,
+And see him dress'd in all suits like a lady :
+That done , conduct him to the drunkard's chamber ;
+And call him 'madam ,' do him obeisance .
+Tell him from me ,as he will win my love ,
+He bear himself with honourable action ,
+Such as he hath observ'd in noble ladies
+Unto their lords , by them accomplished :
+Such duty to the drunkard let him do
+With soft low tongue and lowly courtesy ;
+And say , 'What is't your honour will command ,
+Wherein your lady and your humble wife
+May show her duty , and make known her love ?'
+And then , with kind embracements , tempting kisses ,
+And with declining head into his bosom ,
+Bid him shed tears , as being overjoy'd
+To see her noble lord restor'd to health ,
+Who for this seven years hath esteemed him
+No better than a poor and loathsome beggar .
+And if the boy have not a woman's gift
+To rain a shower of commanded tears ,
+An onion will do well for such a shift ,
+Which in a napkin being close convey'd ,
+Shall in despite enforce a watery eye .
+See this dispatch'd with all the haste thou canst :
+Anon I'll give thee more instructions .
+
+I know the boy will well usurp the grace ,
+Voice , gait , and action of a gentlewoman :
+I long to hear him call the drunkard husband ,
+And how my men will stay themselves from laughter
+When they do homage to this simple peasant .
+I'll in to counsel them : haply , my presence
+May well abate the over merry spleen
+Which otherwise would grow into extremes .
+
+
+For God's sake ! a pot of small ale .
+
+Will't please your lordship drink a cup of sack ?
+
+Will't please your honour taste of these conserves ?
+
+What raiment will your honour wear to-day ?
+
+I am Christophero Sly ; call not me honour , nor lordship : I ne'er drank sack in my life ; and if you give me any conserves , give me conserves of beef . Ne'er ask me what raiment I'll wear , for I have no more doublets than backs , no more stockings than legs , nor no more shoes than feet : nay , sometime more feet than shoes , or such shoes as my toes look through the overleather .
+
+Heaven cease this idle humour in your honour !
+O , that a mighty man , of such descent ,
+Of such possessions , and so high esteem ,
+Should be infused with so foul a spirit !
+
+What ! would you make me mad ? Am not I Christopher Sly , old Sly's son , of Burtonheath ; by birth a pedlar , by education a cardmaker , by transmutation a bear-herd , and now by present profession a tinker ? Ask Marian Hacket , the fat ale-wife of Wincot , if she know me not : if she say I am not fourteen pence on the score for sheer ale , score me up for the lyingest knave in Christendom . What ! I am not bestraught : here's
+
+O ! this it is that makes your lady mourn .
+
+O ! this it is that makes your servants droop .
+
+Hence comes it that your kindred shuns your house ,
+As beaten hence by your strange lunacy .
+O noble lord , bethink thee of thy birth ,
+Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment ,
+And banish hence these abject lowly dreams .
+Look how thy servants do attend on thee ,
+Each in his office ready at thy beck :
+Wilt thou have music ? hark ! Apollo plays ,
+
+And twenty caged nightingales do sing :
+Or wilt thou sleep ? we'll have thee to a couch
+Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed
+On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis .
+Say thou wilt walk , we will bestrew the ground :
+Or wilt thou ride ? thy horses shall be trapp'd ,
+Their harness studded all with gold and pearl .
+Dost thou love hawking ? thou hast hawks will soar
+Above the morning lark : or wilt thou hunt ?
+Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer them ,
+And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth .
+
+Say thou wilt course ; thy greyhounds are as swift
+As breathed stags , ay , fleeter than the roe .
+
+Dost thou love pictures ? we will fetch thee straight
+Adonis painted by a running brook ,
+And Cytherea all in sedges hid ,
+Which seem to move and wanton with her breath ,
+Even as the waving sedges play with wind .
+
+We'll show thee Io as she was a maid ,
+And how she was beguiled and surpris'd ,
+As lively painted as the deed was done .
+
+Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood ,
+Scratching her legs that one shall swear she bleeds ;
+And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep ,
+So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn .
+
+Thou art a lord and nothing but a lord :
+Thou hast a lady far more beautiful
+Than any woman in this waning age .
+
+And till the tears that she hath shed for thee
+Like envious floods o'er-run her lovely face ,
+She was the fairest creature in the world ;
+And yet she is inferior to none .
+
+Am I a lord ? and have I such a lady ?
+Or do I dream ? or have I dream'd till now ?
+I do not sleep ; I see , I hear , I speak ;
+I smell sweet savours , and I feel soft things :
+Upon my life , I am a lord indeed ;
+And not a tinker , nor Christophero Sly .
+Well , bring our lady hither to our sight ;
+And once again , a pot o' the smallest ale .
+
+Will't please your mightiness to wash your hands ?
+
+O , how we joy to see your wit restor'd !
+O , that once more you knew but what you are !
+These fifteen years you have been in a dream ,
+Or , when you wak'd , so wak'd as if you slept .
+
+These fifteen years ! by my fay , a goodly nap .
+But did I never speak of all that time ?
+
+O ! yes , my lord , but very idle words ;
+For though you lay here in this goodly chamber ,
+Yet would you say ye were beaten out of door ,
+And rail upon the hostess of the house ,
+And say you would present her at the leet ,
+Because she brought stone jugs and no seal'd quarts .
+Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket .
+
+Ay , the woman's maid of the house .
+
+Why , sir , you know no house , nor no such maid ,
+Nor no such men as you have reckon'd up ,
+As Stephen Sly , and old John Naps of Greece ,
+And Peter Turf , and Henry Pimpernell ,
+And twenty more such names and men as these ,
+Which never were nor no man ever saw .
+
+Now , Lord be thanked for my good amends !
+
+Amen .
+
+I thank thee ; thou shalt not lose by it .
+
+
+How fares my noble lord ?
+
+Marry , I fare well , for here is cheer enough .
+Where is my wife ?
+
+Here , noble lord : what is thy will with her ?
+
+Are you my wife , and will not call me husband ?
+My men should call me lord : I am your goodman .
+
+My husband and my lord , my lord and husband ;
+I am your wife in all obedience .
+
+I know it well . What must I call her ?
+
+Madam .
+
+Al'ce madam , or Joan madam ?
+
+Madam , and nothing else : so lords call ladies .
+
+Madam wife , they say that I have dream'd
+And slept above some fifteen year or more .
+
+Ay , and the time seems thirty unto me ,
+Being all this time abandon'd from your bed .
+
+'Tis much . Servants , leave me and her alone .
+Madam , undress you , and come now to bed .
+
+Thrice noble lord , let me entreat of you
+To pardon me yet for a night or two ,
+Or , if not so , until the sun be set :
+For your physicians have expressly charg'd ,
+In peril to incur your former malady ,
+That I should yet absent me from your bed :
+I hope this reason stands for my excuse .
+
+Ay , it stands so , that I may hardly tarry so long ; but I would be loath to fall into my dreams again : I will therefore tarry , in spite of the flesh and the blood .
+
+
+Your honour's players , hearing your amendment ,
+Are come to play a pleasant comedy ;
+For so your doctors hold it very meet ,
+Seeing too much sadness hath congeal'd your blood ,
+And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy :
+Therefore they thought it good you hear a play ,
+And frame your mind to mirth and merriment ,
+Which bars a thousand harms and lengthens life .
+
+Marry , I will ; let them play it . Is not a commonty a Christmas gambold or a tumbling-trick ?
+
+No , my good lord ; it is more pleasing stuff .
+
+What ! household stuff ?
+
+It is a kind of history .
+
+Well , we'll see't . Come , madam wife , sit by my side ,
+And let the world slip : we shall ne'er be younger .
+
+
+Tranio , since for the great desire I had
+To see fair Padua , nursery of arts ,
+I am arriv'd for fruitful Lombardy ,
+The pleasant garden of great Italy ;
+And by my father's love and leave am arm'd
+With his good will and thy good company ,
+My trusty servant well approv'd in all ,
+Here let us breathe , and haply institute
+A course of learning and ingenious studies .
+Pisa , renowned for grave citizens ,
+Gave me my being and my father first ,
+A merchant of great traffic through the world ,
+Vincentio , come of the Bentivolii .
+Vincentio's son , brought up in Florence ,
+It shall become to serve all hopes conceiv'd ,
+To deck his fortune with his virtuous deeds :
+And therefore , Tranio , for the time I study ,
+Virtue and that part of philosophy
+Will I apply that treats of happiness
+By virtue specially to be achiev'd .
+Tell me thy mind ; for I have Pisa left
+And am to Padua come , as he that leaves
+A shallow plash to plunge him in the deep ,
+And with satiety seeks to quench his thirst .
+
+Mi perdonate , gentle master mine ,
+I am in all affected as yourself ,
+Glad that you thus continue your resolve
+To suck the sweets of sweet philosophy .
+Only , good master , while we do admire
+This virtue and this moral discipline ,
+Let's be no stoics nor no stocks , I pray ;
+Or so devote to Aristotle's checks
+As Ovid be an outcast quite abjur'd .
+Balk logic with acquaintance that you have ,
+And practise rhetoric in your common talk ;
+Music and poesy use to quicken you ;
+The mathematics and the metaphysics ,
+Fall to them as you find your stomach serves you ;
+No profit grows where is no pleasure ta'en ;
+In brief , sir , study what you most affect .
+
+Gramercies , Tranio , well dost thou advise .
+If , Biondello , thou wert come ashore ,
+We could at once put us in readiness ,
+And take a lodging fit to entertain
+Such friends as time in Padua shall beget .
+But stay awhile : what company is this ?
+
+Master , some show to welcome us to town .
+
+
+Gentlemen , importune me no further ,
+For how I firmly am resolv'd you know ;
+That is , not to bestow my youngest daughter
+Before I have a husband for the elder .
+If either of you both love Katharina ,
+Because I know you well and love you well ,
+Leave shall you have to court her at your pleasure .
+
+To cart her rather : she's too rough for me .
+There , there , Hortensio , will you any wife ?
+
+I pray you , sir , is it your will
+To make a stale of me amongst these mates ?
+
+Mates , maid ! how mean you that ? no mates for you ,
+Unless you were of gentler , milder mould .
+
+I' faith , sir , you shall never need to fear :
+I wis it is not half way to her heart ;
+But if it were , doubt not her care should be
+To comb your noddle with a three-legg'd stool ,
+And paint your face , and use you like a fool .
+
+From all such devils , good Lord deliver us !
+
+And me too , good Lord !
+
+Hush , master ! here is some good pastime toward :
+That wench is stark mad or wonderful froward .
+
+But in the other's silence do I see
+Maid's mild behaviour and sobriety .
+Peace , Tranio !
+
+Well said , master ; mum ! and gaze your fill .
+
+Gentlemen , that I may soon make good
+What I have said ,Bianca , get you in :
+And let it not displease thee , good Bianca ,
+For I will love thee ne'er the less , my girl .
+
+A pretty peat ! it is best
+Put finger in the eye , an she knew why .
+
+Sister , content you in my discontent .
+Sir , to your pleasure humbly I subscribe :
+My books and instruments shall be my company ,
+On them to look and practise by myself .
+
+Hark , Tranio ! thou mayst hear Minerva speak .
+
+Signior Baptista , will you be so strange ?
+Sorry am I that our good will effects
+Bianca's grief .
+
+Why will you mew her up ,
+Signior Baptista , for this fiend of hell ,
+And make her bear the penance of her tongue ?
+
+Gentlemen , content ye ; I am resolv'd .
+Go in , Bianca .
+
+And for I know she taketh most delight
+In music , instruments , and poetry ,
+Schoolmasters will I keep within my house ,
+Fit to instruct her youth . If you , Hortensio ,
+Or Signior Gremio , you , know any such ,
+Prefer them hither ; for to cunning men
+I will be very kind , and liberal
+To mine own children in good bringing up ;
+And so , farewell . Katharina , you may stay ;
+For I have more to commune with Bianca .
+
+
+Why , and I trust I may go too ; may I not ?
+What ! shall I be appointed hours , as though , belike ,
+I knew not what to take , and what to leave ? Ha !
+
+
+You may go to the devil's dam : your gifts are so good , here's none will hold you . Their love is not so great , Hortensio , but we may blow our nails together , and fast it fairly out : our cake's dough on both sides . Farewell : yet , for the love I bear my sweet Bianca , if I can by any means light on a fit man to teach her that wherein she delights , I will wish him to her father .
+
+So will I , Signior Gremio : but a word , I pray . Though the nature of our quarrel yet never brooked parle , know now , upon advice , it toucheth us both ,that we may yet again have access to our fair mistress and be happy rivals in Bianca's love ,to labour and effect one thing specially .
+
+What's that , I pray ?
+
+Marry , sir , to get a husband for her sister .
+
+A husband ! a devil .
+
+I say , a husband .
+
+I say , a devil . Thinkest thou , Hortensio , though her father be very rich , any man is so very a fool to be married to hell ?
+
+Tush , Gremio ! though it pass your patience and mine to endure her loud alarums , why , man , there be good fellows in the world , an a man could light on them , would take her with all faults , and money enough .
+
+I cannot tell ; but I had as lief take her dowry with this condition , to be whipped at the high-cross every morning .
+
+Faith , as you say , there's small choice in rotten apples . But , come ; since this bar in law makes us friends , it shall be so far forth friendly maintained , till by helping Baptista's eldest daughter to a husband , we set his youngest free for a husband , and then have to't afresh . Sweet Bianca ! Happy man be his dole ! He that runs fastest gets the ring . How say you , Signior Gremio ?
+
+I am agreed : and would I had given him the best horse in Padua to begin his wooing , that would thoroughly woo her , wed her , and bed her , and rid the house of her . Come on .
+
+
+I pray , sir , tell me , is it possible
+That love should of a sudden take such hold ?
+
+O Tranio ! till I found it to be true ,
+I never thought it possible or likely ;
+But see , while idly I stood looking on ,
+I found the effect of love in idleness ;
+And now in plainness do confess to thee ,
+That art to me as secret and as dear
+As Anna to the Queen of Carthage was ,
+Tranio , I burn , I pine , I perish , Tranio ,
+If I achieve not this young modest girl .
+Counsel me , Tranio , for I know thou canst :
+Assist me , Tranio , for I know thou wilt .
+
+Master , it is no time to chide you now ;
+Affection is not rated from the heart :
+If love have touch'd you , nought remains but so ,
+Redime te captum , quam queas minimo .
+
+Gramercies , lad ; go forward : this contents :
+The rest will comfort , for thy counsel's sound .
+
+Master , you look'd so longly on the maid ,
+Perhaps you mark'd not what's the pith of all .
+
+O yes , I saw sweet beauty in her face ,
+Such as the daughter of Agenor had ,
+That made great Jove to humble him to her hand ,
+When with his knees he kiss'd the Cretan strand .
+
+Saw you no more ? mark'd you not how her sister
+Began to scold and raise up such a storm
+That mortal ears might hardly endure the din ?
+
+Tranio , I saw her coral lips to move ,
+And with her breath she did perfume the air ;
+Sacred and sweet was all I saw in her .
+
+Nay , then , 'tis time to stir him from his trance .
+I pray , awake , sir : if you love the maid ,
+Bend thoughts and wits to achieve her . Thus it stands :
+Her elder sister is so curst and shrewd ,
+That till the father rid his hands of her ,
+Master , your love must live a maid at home ;
+And therefore has he closely mew'd her up ,
+Because she will not be annoy'd with suitors .
+
+Ah , Tranio , what a cruel father's he !
+But art thou not advis'd he took some care
+To get her cunning schoolmasters to instruct her ?
+
+Ay , marry , am I , sir ; and now 'tis plotted .
+
+I have it , Tranio .
+
+Master , for my hand ,
+Both our inventions meet and jump in one .
+
+Tell me thine first .
+
+You will be schoolmaster ,
+And undertake the teaching of the maid :
+That's your device .
+
+It is : may it be done ?
+
+Not possible ; for who shall bear your part ,
+And be in Padua here Vincentio's son ?
+Keep house and ply his book , welcome his friends ;
+Visit his countrymen , and banquet them ?
+
+Basta ; content thee ; for I have it full .
+We have not yet been seen in any house ,
+Nor can we be distinguish'd by our faces
+For man , or master : then , it follows thus :
+Thou shalt be master , Tranio , in my stead ,
+Keep house , and port , and servants , as I should :
+I will some other be ; some Florentine ,
+Some Neapolitan , or meaner man of Pisa .
+'Tis hatch'd and shall be so : Tranio , at once
+Uncase thee , take my colour'd hat and cloak :
+When Biondello comes , he waits on thee ;
+But I will charm him first to keep his tongue .
+
+
+So had you need .
+In brief then , sir , sith it your pleasure is ,
+And I am tied to be obedient ;
+For so your father charg'd me at our parting ,
+'Be serviceable to my son ,' quoth he ,
+Although I think 'twas in another sense :
+I am content to be Lucentio ,
+Because so well I love Lucentio .
+
+Tranio , be so , because Lucentio loves ;
+And let me be a slave , to achieve that maid
+Whose sudden sight hath thrall'd my wounded eye .
+Here comes the rogue .
+
+Sirrah , where have you been ?
+
+Where have I been ! Nay , how now ! where are you ?
+Master , has my fellow Tranio stol'n your clothes ,
+Or you stol'n his ? or both ? pray , what's the news ?
+
+Sirrah , come hither : 'tis no time to jest ,
+And therefore frame your manners to the time .
+Your fellow Tranio , here , to save my life ,
+Puts my apparel and my countenance on ,
+And I for my escape have put on his ;
+For in a quarrel since I came ashore
+I kill'd a man , and fear I was descried .
+Wait you on him , I charge you , as becomes ,
+While I make way from hence to save my life :
+You understand me ?
+
+I , sir ! ne'er a whit .
+
+And not a jot of Tranio in your mouth :
+Tranio is changed to Lucentio .
+
+The better for him : would I were so too !
+
+So would I , faith , boy , to have the next wish after ,
+That Lucentio indeed had Baptista's youngest daughter .
+But , sirrah , not for my sake , but your master's , I advise
+You use your manners discreetly in all kind of companies :
+When I am alone , why , then I am Tranio ;
+But in all places else your master , Lucentio .
+
+Tranio , let's go . One thing more rests , that thyself execute , to make one among these wooers : if thou ask me why , sufficeth my reasons are both good and weighty .
+
+My lord , you nod ; you do not mind the play .
+
+Yes , by Saint Anne , I do . A good matter , surely : comes there any more of it ?
+
+My lord , 'tis but begun .
+
+'Tis a very excellent piece of work , madam lady : would 'twere done !
+
+
+Verona , for awhile I take my leave ,
+To see my friends in Padua ; but , of all
+My best beloved and approved friend ,
+Hortensio ; and I trow this is his house .
+Here , sirrah Grumio ; knock , I say .
+
+Knock , sir ! whom should I knock ? is there any man has rebused your worship ?
+
+Villain , I say , knock me here soundly .
+
+Knock you here , sir ! why , sir , what am I , sir , that I should knock you here , sir ?
+
+Villain , I say , knock me at this gate ;
+And rap me well , or I'll knock your knave's pate .
+
+My master is grown quarrelsome . I should knock you first ,
+And then I know after who comes by the worst .
+
+Will it not be ?
+Faith , sirrah , an you'll not knock , I'll ring it ;
+I'll try how you can sol , fa , and sing it .
+
+
+Help , masters , help ! my master is mad .
+
+Now , knock when I bid you , sirrah villain !
+
+
+How now ! what's the matter ? My old friend Grumio ! and my good friend Petruchio ! How do you all at Verona ?
+
+Signior Hortensio , come you to part the fray ?
+Con tutto il cuore ben trovato , may I say .
+
+Alla nostra casa ben venuto ; molto honorato signior mio Petruchio .
+Rise , Grumio , rise : we will compound this quarrel .
+
+Nay , 'tis no matter , sir , what he 'leges in Latin . If this be not a lawful cause for me to leave his service , look you , sir , he bid me knock him and rap him soundly , sir : well , was it fit for a servant to use his master so ; being , perhaps , for aught I see , two-and-thirty , a pip out ?
+Whom would to God , I had well knock'd at first ,
+Then had not Grumio come by the worst .
+
+A senseless villain ! Good Hortensio ,
+I bade the rascal knock upon your gate ,
+And could not get him for my heart to do it .
+
+Knock at the gate ! O heavens ! Spake you not these words plain , 'Sirrah , knock me here , rap me here , knock me well , and knock me soundly ?' And come you now with 'knocking at the gate ?'
+
+Sirrah , be gone , or talk not , I advise you .
+
+Petruchio , patience ; I am Grumio's pledge .
+Why , this's a heavy chance 'twixt him and you ,
+Your ancient , trusty , pleasant servant Grumio .
+And tell me now , sweet friend , what happy gale
+Blows you to Padua here from old Verona ?
+
+Such wind as scatters young men through the world
+To seek their fortunes further than at home ,
+Where small experience grows . But in a few ,
+Signior Hortensio , thus it stands with me :
+Antonio , my father , is deceas'd ,
+And I have thrust myself into this maze ,
+Haply to wive and thrive as best I may .
+Crowns in my purse I have and goods at home ,
+And so am come abroad to see the world .
+
+Petruchio , shall I then come roundly to thee ,
+And wish thee to a shrewd ill-favour'd wife ?
+Thou'dst thank me but a little for my counsel ;
+And yet I'll promise thee she shall be rich ,
+And very rich : but thou'rt too much my friend ,
+And I'll not wish thee to her .
+
+Signior Hortensio , 'twixt such friends as we ,
+Few words suffice ; and therefore , if thou know
+One rich enough to be Petruchio's wife ,
+As wealth is burden of my wooing dance ,
+Be she as foul as was Florentius' love ,
+As old as Sibyl , and as curst and shrewd
+As Socrates' Xanthippe , or a worse ,
+She moves me not , or not removes , at least ,
+Affection's edge in me , were she as rough
+As are the swelling Adriatic seas :
+I come to wive it wealthily in Padua ;
+If wealthily , then happily in Padua .
+
+Nay , look you , sir , he tells you flatly what his mind is : why , give him gold enough and marry him to a puppet or an aglet-baby ; or an old trot with ne'er a tooth in her head , though she have as many diseases as two-and-fifty horses : why , nothing comes amiss , so money comes withal .
+
+Petruchio , since we are stepp'd thus far in ,
+I will continue that I broach'd in jest .
+I can , Petruchio , help thee to a wife
+With wealth enough , and young and beauteous ,
+Brought up as best becomes a gentlewoman :
+Her only fault ,and that is faults enough ,
+Is , that she is intolerable curst
+And shrewd and froward , so beyond all measure ,
+That , were my state far worser than it is ,
+I would not wed her for a mine of gold :
+
+Hortensio , peace ! thou know'st not gold's effect :
+Tell me her father's name , and 'tis enough ;
+For I will board her , though she chide as loud
+As thunder when the clouds in autumn crack .
+
+Her father is Baptista Minola ,
+An affable and courteous gentleman ;
+Her name is Katharina Minola ,
+Renown'd in Padua for her scolding tongue .
+
+I know her father , though I know not her ;
+And he knew my deceased father well .
+I will not sleep , Hortensio , till I see her ;
+And therefore let me be thus bold with you ,
+To give you over at this first encounter ,
+Unless you will accompany me thither .
+
+I pray you , sir , let him go while the humour lasts . O' my word , an she knew him as well as I do , she would think scolding would do little good upon him . She may , perhaps , call him half a score knaves or so : why , that's nothing : an he begin once , he'll rail in his ropetricks . I'll tell you what , sir , an she stand him but a little , he will throw a figure in her face , and so disfigure her with it that she shall have no more eyes to see withal than a cat . You know him not , sir .
+
+Tarry , Petruchio , I must go with thee ,
+For in Baptista's keep my treasure is :
+He hath the jewel of my life in hold ,
+His youngest daughter , beautiful Bianca ,
+And her withholds from me and other more ,
+Suitors to her and rivals in my love ;
+Supposing it a thing impossible ,
+For those defects I have before rehears'd ,
+That ever Katharina will be woo'd :
+Therefore this order hath Baptista ta'en ,
+That none shall have access unto Bianca ,
+Till Katharine the curst have got a husband .
+
+Katharine the curst !
+A title for a maid of all titles the worst .
+
+Now shall my friend Petruchio do me grace ,
+And offer me , disguis'd in sober robes ,
+To old Baptista as a schoolmaster
+Well seen in music , to instruct Bianca ;
+That so I may , by this device , at least
+Have leave and leisure to make love to her ,
+And unsuspected court her by herself .
+
+Here's no knavery ! See , to beguile the old folks , how the young folks lay their heads together !
+
+Master , master , look about you : who goes there , ha ?
+
+Peace , Grumio ! 'tis the rival of my love .
+Petruchio , stand by awhile .
+
+A proper stripling , and an amorous !
+
+O ! very well ; I have perus'd the note .
+Hark you , sir ; I'll have them very fairly bound :
+All books of love , see that at any hand ,
+And see you read no other lectures to her .
+You understand me . Over and beside
+Signior Baptista's liberality ,
+I'll mend it with a largess . Take your papers too ,
+And let me have them very well perfum'd ;
+For she is sweeter than perfume itself
+To whom they go to . What will you read to her ?
+
+Whate'er I read to her , I'll plead for you ,
+As for my patron , stand you so assur'd ,
+As firmly as yourself were still in place ;
+Yea , and perhaps with more successful words
+Than you , unless you were a scholar , sir .
+
+O ! this learning , what a thing it is .
+
+O ! this woodcock , what an ass it is .
+
+Peace , sirrah !
+
+Grumio , mum ! God save you , Signior Gremio !
+
+And you're well met , Signior Hortensio .
+Trow you whither I am going ? To Baptista Minola .
+I promis'd to inquire carefully
+About a schoolmaster for the fair Bianca ;
+And , by good fortune , I have lighted well
+On this young man ; for learning and behaviour
+Fit for her turn ; well read in poetry
+And other books , good ones , I warrant ye .
+
+'Tis well : and I have met a gentleman
+Hath promis'd me to help me to another ,
+A fine musician to instruct our mistress :
+So shall I no whit be behind in duty
+To fair Bianca , so belov'd of me .
+
+Belov'd of me , and that my deeds shall prove .
+
+And that his bags shall prove .
+
+Gremio , 'tis now no time to vent our love :
+Listen to me , and if you speak me fair ,
+I'll tell you news indifferent good for either .
+Here is a gentleman whom by chance I met ,
+Upon agreement from us to his liking ,
+Will undertake to woo curst Katharine ;
+Yea , and to marry her , if her dowry please .
+
+So said , so done , is well .
+Hortensio , have you told him all her faults ?
+
+I know she is an irksome , brawling scold :
+If that be all , masters , I hear no harm .
+
+No , sayst me so , friend ? What countryman ?
+
+Born in Verona , old Antonio's son :
+My father dead , my fortune lives for me ;
+And I do hope good days and long to see .
+
+O , sir , such a life , with such a wife , were strange !
+But if you have a stomach , to't i' God's name :
+You shall have me assisting you in all .
+But will you woo this wild-cat ?
+
+Will I live ?
+
+Will he woo her ? ay , or I'll hang her .
+
+Why came I hither but to that intent ?
+Think you a little din can daunt mine ears ?
+Have I not in my time heard lions roar ?
+Have I not heard the sea , puff'd up with winds ,
+Rage like an angry boar chafed with sweat ?
+Have I not heard great ordnance in the field ,
+And heaven's artillery thunder in the skies ?
+Have I not in a pitched battle heard
+Loud 'larums , neighing steeds , and trumpets' clang ?
+And do you tell me of a woman's tongue ,
+That gives not half so great a blow to hear
+As will a chestnut in a farmer's fire ?
+Tush , tush ! fear boys with bugs .
+
+For he fears none .
+
+Hortensio , hark :
+This gentleman is happily arriv'd ,
+My mind presumes , for his own good and ours .
+
+I promis'd we would be contributors ,
+And bear his charge of wooing , whatsoe'er .
+
+And so we will , provided that he win her .
+
+I would I were as sure of a good dinner .
+
+
+Gentlemen , God save you ! If I may be bold ,
+Tell me , I beseech you , which is the readiest way
+To the house of Signior Baptista Minola ?
+
+He that has the two fair daughters : is't he you mean ?
+
+Even he , Biondello !
+
+Hark you , sir ; you mean not her to
+
+Perhaps , him and her , sir : what have you to do ?
+
+Not her that chides , sir , at any hand , I pray .
+
+I love no chiders , sir . Biondello , let's away .
+
+Well begun , Tranio .
+
+Sir , a word ere you go :
+Are you a suitor to the maid you talk of , yea or no ?
+
+And if I be , sir , is it any offence ?
+
+No ; if without more words you will get you hence .
+
+Why , sir , I pray , are not the streets as free
+For me as for you ?
+
+But so is not she .
+
+For what reason , I beseech you ?
+
+For this reason , if you'll know ,
+That she's the choice love of Signior Gremio .
+
+That she's the chosen of Signior Hortensio .
+
+Softly , my masters ! if you be gentlemen ,
+Do me this right ; hear me with patience .
+Baptista is a noble gentleman ,
+To whom my father is not all unknown ;
+And were his daughter fairer than she is ,
+She may more suitors have , and me for one .
+Fair Leda's daughter had a thousand wooers ;
+Then well one more may fair Bianca have ,
+And so she shall ; Lucentio shall make one ,
+Though Paris came in hope to speed alone .
+
+What ! this gentleman will out-talk us all .
+
+Sir , give him head : I know he'll prove a jade .
+
+Hortensio , to what end are all these words ?
+
+Sir , let me be so bold as ask you ,
+Did you yet ever see Baptista's daughter ?
+
+No , sir ; but hear I do that he hath two ,
+The one as famous for a scolding tongue
+As is the other for beauteous modesty .
+
+Sir , sir , the first's for me ; let her go by .
+
+Yea , leave that labour to great Hercules ,
+And let it be more than Alcides' twelve .
+
+Sir , understand you this of me in sooth :
+The youngest daughter , whom you hearken for ,
+Her father keeps from all access of suitors ,
+And will not promise her to any man
+Until the elder sister first be wed ;
+The younger then is free , and not before .
+
+If it be so , sir , that you are the man
+Must stead us all , and me among the rest ;
+And if you break the ice , and do this feat ,
+Achieve the elder , set the younger free
+For our access , whose hap shall be to have her
+Will not so graceless be to be ingrate .
+
+Sir , you say well , and well you do conceive ;
+And since you do profess to be a suitor ,
+You must , as we do , gratify this gentleman ,
+To whom we all rest generally beholding .
+
+Sir , I shall not be slack : in sign whereof ,
+Please ye we may contrive this afternoon ,
+And quaff carouses to our mistress' health ,
+And do as adversaries do in law ,
+Strive mightily , but eat and drink as friends .
+
+O excellent motion ! Fellows , let's be gone .
+
+O excellent motion ! Fellows , let's be gone .
+
+The motion's good indeed , and be it so :
+Petruchio , I shall be your ben venuto .
+
+Good sister , wrong me not , nor wrong yourself ,
+To make a bondmaid and a slave of me ;
+That I disdain : but for these other gawds ,
+Unbind my hands , I'll pull them off myself ,
+Yea , all my raiment , to my petticoat ;
+Or what you will command me will I do ,
+So well I know my duty to my elders .
+
+Of all thy suitors , here I charge thee , tell
+Whom thou lov'st best : see thou dissemble not .
+
+Believe me , sister , of all the men alive
+I never yet beheld that special face
+Which I could fancy more than any other .
+
+Minion , thou liest . Is't not Hortensio ?
+
+If you affect him , sister , here I swear
+I'll plead for you myself , but you shall have him .
+
+O ! then , belike , you fancy riches more :
+You will have Gremio to keep you fair .
+
+Is it for him you do envy me so ?
+Nay , then you jest ; and now I well perceive
+You have but jested with me all this while :
+I prithee , sister Kate , untie my hands .
+
+If that be jest , then all the rest was so .
+
+Why , how now , dame ! whence grows this insolence ?
+Bianca , stand aside . Poor girl ! she weeps .
+Go ply thy needle ; meddle not with her .
+For shame , thou hilding of a devilish spirit ,
+Why dost thou wrong her that did ne'er wrong thee ?
+When did she cross thee with a bitter word ?
+
+Her silence flouts me , and I'll be reveng'd .
+
+
+What ! in my sight ? Bianca , get thee in .
+
+
+What ! will you not suffer me ? Nay , now I see
+She is your treasure , she must have a husband ;
+I must dance bare-foot on her wedding-day ,
+And , for your love to her , lead apes in hell .
+Talk not to me : I will go sit and weep
+Till I can find occasion of revenge .
+
+
+Was ever gentleman thus griev'd as I ?
+But who comes here ?
+
+
+Good morrow , neighbour Baptista .
+
+Good morrow , neighbour Gremio . God save you , gentlemen !
+
+And you , good sir . Pray , have you not a daughter
+Call'd Katharina , fair and virtuous ?
+
+I have a daughter , sir , call'd Katharina .
+
+You are too blunt : go to it orderly .
+
+You wrong me , Signior Gremio : give me leave .
+I am a gentleman of Verona , sir ,
+That , hearing of her beauty and her wit ,
+Her affability and bashful modesty ,
+Her wondrous qualities and mild behaviour ,
+Am bold to show myself a forward guest
+Within your house , to make mine eye the witness
+Of that report which I so oft have heard .
+And , for an entrance to my entertainment ,
+I do present you with a man of mine ,
+
+Cunning in music and the mathematics ,
+To instruct her fully in those sciences ,
+Whereof I know she is not ignorant .
+Accept of him , or else you do me wrong :
+His name is Licio , born in Mantua .
+
+You're welcome , sir ; and he , for your good sake .
+But for my daughter Katharine , this I know ,
+She is not for your turn , the more my grief .
+
+I see you do not mean to part with her ,
+Or else you like not of my company .
+
+Mistake me not ; I speak but as I find .
+Whence are you , sir ? what may I call your name ?
+
+Petruchio is my name ; Antonio's son ;
+A man well known throughout all Italy .
+
+I know him well : you are welcome for his sake .
+
+Saving your tale , Petruchio , I pray ,
+Let us , that are poor petitioners , speak too .
+Backare ! you are marvellous forward .
+
+O , pardon me , Signior Gremio ; I would fain be doing .
+
+I doubt it not , sir ; but you will curse your wooing .
+Neighbour , this is a gift very grateful , I am sure of it . To express the like kindness myself , that have been more kindly beholding to you than any , freely give unto you this young scholar ,
+
+that has been long studying at Rheims ; as cunning in Greek , Latin , and other languages , as the other in music and mathematics . His name is Cambio ; pray accept his service .
+
+A thousand thanks , Signior Gremio ; welcome , good Cambio .
+
+But , gentle sir , methinks you walk like a stranger : may I be so bold to know the cause of your coming ?
+
+Pardon me , sir , the boldness is mine own ,
+That , being a stranger in this city here ,
+Do make myself a suitor to your daughter ,
+Unto Bianca , fair and virtuous .
+Nor is your firm resolve unknown to me ,
+In the preferment of the eldest sister .
+This liberty is all that I request ,
+That , upon knowledge of my parentage ,
+I may have welcome 'mongst the rest that woo ,
+And free access and favour as the rest :
+And , toward the education of your daughters ,
+I here bestow a simple instrument ,
+And this small packet of Greek and Latin books :
+If you accept them , then their worth is great .
+
+Lucentio is your name , of whence , I pray ?
+
+Of Pisa , sir ; son to Vincentio .
+
+A mighty man of Pisa ; by report
+I know him well : you are very welcome , sir .
+
+
+and you the set of books ;
+You shall go see your pupils presently .
+Holla , within !
+
+
+Sirrah , lead these gentlemen
+To my two daughters , and then tell them both
+These are their tutors : bid them use them well .
+
+We will go walk a little in the orchard ,
+And then to dinner . You are passing welcome ,
+
+And so I pray you all to think yourselves .
+
+Signior Baptista , my business asketh haste ,
+And every day I cannot come to woo .
+You knew my father well , and in him me ,
+Left solely heir to all his lands and goods ,
+Which I have better'd rather than decreas'd :
+Then tell me , if I get your daughter's love ,
+What dowry shall I have with her to wife ?
+
+After my death the one half of my lands ,
+And in possession twenty thousand crowns .
+
+And , for that dowry , I'll assure her of
+Her widowhood , be it that she survive me ,
+In all my lands and leases whatsoever .
+Let specialties be therefore drawn between us ,
+That covenants may be kept on either hand .
+
+Ay , when the special thing is well obtain'd ,
+That is , her love ; for that is all in all .
+
+Why , that is nothing ; for I tell you , father ,
+I am as peremptory as she proud-minded ;
+And where two raging fires meet together
+They do consume the thing that feeds their fury :
+Though little fire grows great with little wind ,
+Yet extreme gusts will blow out fire and all ;
+So I to her , and so she yields to me ;
+For I am rough and woo not like a babe .
+
+Well mayst thou woo , and happy be thy speed !
+But be thou arm'd for some unhappy words .
+
+Ay , to the proof ; as mountains are for winds ,
+That shake not , though they blow perpetually .
+
+
+How now , my friend ! why dost thou look so pale ?
+
+For fear , I promise you , if I look pale .
+
+What , will my daughter prove a good musician ?
+
+I think she'll sooner prove a soldier :
+Iron may hold with her , but never lutes .
+
+Why , then thou canst not break her to the lute ?
+
+Why , no ; for she hath broke the lute to me .
+I did but tell her she mistook her frets ,
+And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering ;
+When , with a most impatient devilish spirit ,
+'Frets , call you these ?' quoth she ; 'I'll fume with them ;'
+And , with that word , she struck me on the head ,
+And through the instrument my pate made way ;
+And there I stood amazed for a while ,
+As on a pillory , looking through the lute ;
+While she did call me rascal fiddler ,
+And twangling Jack ; with twenty such vile terms
+As she had studied to misuse me so .
+
+Now , by the world , it is a lusty wench !
+I love her ten times more than e'er I did :
+O ! how I long to have some chat with her !
+
+Well , go with me , and be not so discomfited :
+Proceed in practice with my younger daughter ;
+She's apt to learn , and thankful for good turns .
+Signior Petruchio , will you go with us ,
+Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you ?
+
+I pray you do ; I will attend her here ,
+
+And woo her with some spirit when she comes .
+Say that she rail ; why then I'll tell her plain
+She sings as sweetly as a nightingale :
+Say that she frown ; I'll say she looks as clear
+As morning roses newly wash'd with dew :
+Say she be mute and will not speak a word ;
+Then I'll commend her volubility ,
+And say she uttereth piercing eloquence :
+If she do bid me pack ; I'll give her thanks ,
+As though she bid me stay by her a week :
+If she deny to wed ; I'll crave the day
+When I shall ask the banns , and when be married .
+But here she comes ; and now , Petruchio , speak .
+
+Good morrow , Kate ; for that's your name , I hear .
+
+Well have you heard , but something hard of hearing :
+They call me Katharine that do talk of me .
+
+You lie , in faith ; for you are call'd plain Kate ,
+And bonny Kate , and sometimes Kate the curst ;
+But , Kate , the prettiest Kate in Christendom ;
+Kate of Kate-Hall , my super-dainty Kate ,
+For dainties are all cates : and therefore , Kate ,
+Take this of me , Kate of my consolation ;
+Hearing thy mildness prais'd in every town ,
+Thy virtues spoke of , and thy beauty sounded ,
+Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs ,
+Myself am mov'd to woo thee for my wife .
+
+Mov'd ! in good time : let him that mov'd you hither
+Remove you hence . I knew you at the first ,
+You were a moveable .
+
+Why , what's a moveable ?
+
+A joint-stool .
+
+Thou hast hit it : come , sit on me .
+
+Asses are made to bear , and so are you .
+
+Women are made to bear , and so are you .
+
+No such jade as bear you , if me you mean .
+
+Alas ! good Kate , I will not burden thee ;
+For , knowing thee to be but young and light ,
+
+Too light for such a swain as you to catch ,
+And yet as heavy as my weight should be .
+
+Should be ! should buz !
+
+Well ta'en , and like a buzzard .
+
+O slow-wing'd turtle ! shall a buzzard take thee ?
+
+Ay , for a turtle , as he takes a buzzard .
+
+Come , come , you wasp ; i' faith you are too angry .
+
+If I be waspish , best beware my sting .
+
+My remedy is , then , to pluck it out .
+
+Ay , if the fool could find it where it lies .
+
+Who knows not where a wasp does wear his sting ?
+In his tail .
+
+In his tongue .
+
+Whose tongue ?
+
+Yours , if you talk of tails ; and so farewell .
+
+What ! with my tongue in your tail ? nay , come again .
+Good Kate , I am a gentleman .
+
+That I'll try .
+
+
+I swear I'll cuff you if you strike again .
+
+So may you lose your arms :
+If you strike me , you are no gentleman ;
+And if no gentleman , why then no arms .
+
+A herald , Kate ? O ! put me in thy books .
+
+What is your crest ? a coxcomb ?
+
+A combless cock , so Kate will be my hen .
+
+No cock of mine ; you crow too like a craven .
+
+Nay , come , Kate , come ; you must not look so sour .
+
+It is my fashion when I see a crab .
+
+Why , here's no crab , and therefore look not sour .
+
+There is , there is .
+
+Then show it me .
+
+Had I a glass , I would .
+
+What , you mean my face ?
+
+Well aim'd of such a young one .
+
+Now , by Saint George , I am too young for you .
+
+Yet you are wither'd .
+
+'Tis with cares .
+
+I care not .
+
+Nay , hear you , Kate : in sooth , you 'scape not so .
+
+I chafe you , if I tarry : let me go .
+
+No , not a whit : I find you passing gentle .
+'Twas told me you were rough and coy and sullen ,
+And now I find report a very liar ;
+For thou art pleasant , gamesome , passing courteous ,
+But slow in speech , yet sweet as spring-time flowers :
+Thou canst not frown , thou canst not look askance ,
+Nor bite the lip , as angry wenches will ;
+Nor hast thou pleasure to be cross in talk ;
+But thou with mildness entertain'st thy wooers ,
+With gentle conference , soft and affable .
+Why does the world report that Kate doth limp ?
+O slanderous world ! Kate , like the hazel-twig ,
+Is straight and slender , and as brown in hue
+As hazel nuts , and sweeter than the kernels .
+O ! let me see thee walk : thou dost not halt .
+
+Go , fool , and whom thou keep'st command .
+
+Did ever Dian so become a grove
+As Kate this chamber with her princely gait ?
+O ! be thou Dian , and let her be Kate ,
+And then let Kate be chaste , and Dian sportful !
+
+Where did you study all this goodly speech ?
+
+It is extempore , from my mother-wit .
+
+A witty mother ! witless else her son .
+
+Am I not wise ?
+
+Yes ; keep you warm .
+
+Marry , so I mean , sweet Katharine , in thy bed :
+And therefore , setting all this chat aside ,
+Thus in plain terms : your father hath consented
+That you shall be my wife ; your dowry 'greed on ;
+And will you , nill you , I will marry you .
+Now , Kate , I am a husband for your turn ;
+For , by this light , whereby I see thy beauty ,
+Thy beauty that doth make me like thee well ,
+Thou must be married to no man but me :
+For I am he am born to tame you , Kate ;
+And bring you from a wild Kate to a Kate
+Conformable as other household Kates .
+Here comes your father : never make denial ;
+I must and will have Katharine to my wife .
+
+
+Now , Signior Petruchio , how speed you with my daughter ?
+
+How but well , sir ? how but well ?
+It were impossible I should speed amiss .
+
+Why , how now , daughter Katharine ! in your dumps ?
+
+Call you me daughter ? now , I promise you
+You have show'd a tender fatherly regard ,
+To wish me wed to one half lunatic ;
+A mad-cap ruffian and a swearing Jack ,
+That thinks with oaths to face the matter out .
+
+Father , 'tis thus : yourself and all the world ,
+That talk'd of her , have talk'd amiss of her :
+If she be curst , it is for policy ,
+For she's not froward , but modest as the dove ;
+She is not hot , but temperate as the morn ;
+For patience she will prove a second Grissel ,
+And Roman Lucrece for her chastity ;
+And to conclude , we have 'greed so well together ,
+That upon Sunday is the wedding-day .
+
+I'll see thee hang'd on Sunday first .
+
+Hark , Petruchio : she says she'll see thee hang'd first .
+
+Is this your speeding ? nay then , good night our part !
+
+Be patient , gentlemen ; I choose her for myself :
+If she and I be pleas'd , what's that to you ?
+'Tis bargain'd 'twixt us twain , being alone ,
+That she shall still be curst in company .
+I tell you , 'tis incredible to believe
+How much she loves me : O ! the kindest Kate .
+She hung about my neck , and kiss on kiss
+She vied so fast , protesting oath on oath ,
+That in a twink she won me to her love .
+O ! you are novices : 'tis a world to see ,
+How tame , when men and women are alone ,
+A meacock wretch can make the curstest shrew .
+Give me thy hand , Kate : I will unto Venice
+To buy apparel 'gainst the wedding-day .
+Provide the feast , father , and bid the guests ;
+I will be sure my Katharine shall be fine .
+
+I know not what to say ; but give me your hands .
+God send you joy , Petruchio ! 'tis a match .
+
+Amen , say we : we will be witnesses .
+
+Amen , say we : we will be witnesses .
+
+Father , and wife , and gentlemen , adieu .
+I will to Venice ; Sunday comes apace :
+We will have rings , and things , and fine array ;
+And , kiss me , Kate , we will be married o' Sunday .
+
+
+Was ever match clapp'd up so suddenly ?
+
+Faith , gentlemen , now I play a merchant's part ,
+And venture madly on a desperate mart .
+
+'Twas a commodity lay fretting by you :
+'Twill bring you gain , or perish on the seas .
+
+The gain I seek is , quiet in the match .
+
+No doubt but he hath got a quiet catch .
+But now , Baptista , to your younger daughter :
+Now is the day we long have looked for :
+I am your neighbour , and was suitor first .
+
+And I am one that love Bianca more
+Than words can witness , or your thoughts can guess .
+
+Youngling , thou canst not love so dear as I .
+
+Greybeard , thy love doth freeze .
+
+But thine doth fry .
+Skipper , stand back : 'tis age that nourisheth .
+
+But youth in ladies eyes that flourisheth .
+
+Content you , gentlemen ; I'll compound this strife :
+'Tis deeds must win the prize ; and he , of both ,
+That can assure my daughter greatest dower
+Shall have my Bianca's love .
+Say , Signior Gremio , what can you assure her ?
+
+First , as you know , my house within the city
+Is richly furnished with plate and gold :
+Basins and ewers to lave her dainty hands ;
+My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry ;
+In ivory coffers I have stuff'd my crowns ;
+In cypress chests my arras counterpoints ,
+Costly apparel , tents , and canopies ,
+Fine linen , Turkey cushions boss'd with pearl ,
+Valance of Venice gold in needle-work ,
+Pewter and brass , and all things that belong
+To house or housekeeping : then , at my farm
+I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail ,
+Six score fat oxen standing in my stalls ,
+And all things answerable to this portion .
+Myself am struck in years , I must confess ;
+And if I die to-morrow , this is hers ,
+If whilst I live she will be only mine .
+
+That 'only' came well in . Sir , list to me :
+I am my father's heir and only son :
+If I may have your daughter to my wife ,
+I'll leave her houses three or four as good ,
+Within rich Pisa walls , as any one
+Old Signior Gremio has in Padua ;
+Besides two thousand ducats by the year
+Of fruitful land , all of which shall be her jointure .
+What , have I pinch'd you , Signior Gremio ?
+
+Two thousand ducats by the year of land !
+My land amounts not to so much in all :
+That she shall have ; besides an argosy
+That now is lying in Marseilles' road .
+What , have I chok'd you with an argosy ?
+
+Gremio , 'tis known my father hath no less
+Than three great argosies , besides two galliasses ,
+And twelve tight galleys ; these I will assure her ,
+And twice as much , whate'er thou offer'st next .
+
+Nay , I have offer'd all , I have no more ;
+And she can have no more than all I have :
+If you like me , she shall have me and mine .
+
+Why , then the maid is mine from all the world ,
+By your firm promise . Gremio is out-vied .
+
+I must confess your offer is the best ;
+And , let your father make her the assurance ,
+She is your own ; else , you must pardon me :
+If you should die before him , where's her dower ?
+
+That's but a cavil : he is old , I young .
+
+And may not young men die as well as old ?
+
+Well , gentlemen ,
+I am thus resolv'd . On Sunday next , you know ,
+My daughter Katharine is to be married :
+Now , on the Sunday following , shall Bianca
+Be bride to you , if you make this assurance ;
+If not , to Signior Gremio :
+And so , I take my leave , and thank you both .
+
+Adieu , good neighbour .
+
+Now I fear thee not :
+Sirrah young gamester , your father were a fool
+To give thee all , and in his waning age
+Set foot under thy table . Tut ! a toy !
+An old Italian fox is not so kind , my boy .
+
+
+A vengeance on your crafty wither'd hide !
+Yet I have fac'd it with a card of ten .
+'Tis in my head to do my master good :
+I see no reason , but suppos'd Lucentio
+Must get a father , called 'suppos'd Vincentio ;'
+And that's a wonder : fathers , commonly
+Do get their children ; but in this case of wooing ,
+A child shall get a sire , if I fail not of my cunning .
+
+Fiddler , forbear ; you grow too forward , sir :
+Have you so soon forgot the entertainment
+Her sister Katharine welcom'd you withal ?
+
+But , wrangling pedant , this is
+The patroness of heavenly harmony :
+Then give me leave to have prerogative ;
+And when in music we have spent an hour ,
+Your lecture shall have leisure for as much .
+
+Preposterous ass , that never read so far
+To know the cause why music was ordain'd !
+Was it not to refresh the mind of man
+After his studies or his usual pain ?
+Then give me leave to read philosophy ,
+And while I pause , serve in your harmony .
+
+Sirrah , I will not bear these braves of thine .
+
+Why , gentlemen , you do me double wrong ,
+To strive for that which resteth in my choice .
+I am no breeching scholar in the schools ;
+I'll not be tied to hours nor 'pointed times ,
+But learn my lessons as I please myself .
+And , to cut off all strife , here sit we down :
+Take you your instrument , play you the whiles ;
+His lecture will be done ere you have tun'd .
+
+You'll leave his lecture when I am in tune ?
+
+
+That will be never : tune vour instrument .
+
+Where left we last ?
+
+Here , madam :
+
+Hac ibat Simois ; hic est Sigeia tellus ;
+Hic steterat Priami regia celsa senis .
+
+
+Construe them .
+
+Hac ibat , as I told you before , Simois , I am Lucentio , hic est , son unto Vincentio of Pisa , Sigeia tellus , disguised thus to get your love ; Hic steterat , and that Lucentio that comes a wooing , Priami , is my man Tranio , regia , bearing my port , celsa senis , that we might beguile the old pantaloon .
+
+Madam , my instrument's in tune .
+
+Let's hear .
+
+O fie ! the treble jars .
+
+Spit in the hole , man , and tune again .
+
+Now let me see if I can construe it : Hac ibat Simois , I know you not , hic est Sigeia tellus , I trust you not ; Hic steterat Priami , take heed he hear us not , regia , presume not ; celsa senis , despair not .
+
+Madam , 'tis now in tune .
+
+All but the base .
+
+The base is right ; 'tis the base knave that jars .
+How fiery and forward our pedant is !
+
+
+Now , for my life , the knave doth court my love :
+Pedascule , I'll watch you better yet .
+
+In time I may believe , yet I mistrust .
+
+Mistrust it not ; for , sure , acides
+Was Ajax , call'd so from his grandfather .
+
+I must believe my master ; else , I promise you ,
+I should be arguing still upon that doubt :
+But let it rest . Now , Licio , to you .
+Good masters , take it not unkindly , pray ,
+That I have been thus pleasant with you both .
+
+You may go walk , and give me leave a while :
+My lessons make no music in three parts .
+
+Are you so formal , sir ?
+
+Well , I must wait ,
+And watch withal ; for , but I be deceiv'd ,
+Our fine musician groweth amorous .
+
+Madam , before you touch the instrument ,
+To learn the order of my fingering ,
+I must begin with rudiments of art ;
+To teach you gamut in a briefer sort ,
+More pleasant , pithy , and effectual ,
+Than hath been taught by any of my trade :
+And there it is in writing , fairly drawn .
+
+Why , I am past my gamut long ago .
+
+Yet read the gamut of Hortensio .
+
+
+'Gamut' I am , the ground of all accord ,
+'A re ,' to plead Hortensio's passion ;
+'B mi ,' Bianca , take him for thy lord ,
+'C fa ut ,' that loves with all affection :
+'D sol re ,' one clef , two notes have I :
+'E la mi ,' show pity , or I die .
+
+Call you this gamut ? tut , I like it not :
+Old fashions please me best ; I am not so nice ,
+To change true rules for odd inventions .
+
+
+Mistress , your father prays you leave your books ,
+And help to dress your sister's chamber up :
+You know to-morrow is the wedding-day .
+
+Farewell , sweet masters both : I must be gone .
+
+
+Faith , mistress , then I have no cause to stay .
+
+
+But I have cause to pry into this pedant :
+Methinks he looks as though he were in love .
+Yet if thy thoughts , Bianca , be so humble
+To cast thy wandering eyes on every stale ,
+Seize thee that list : if once I find thee ranging ,
+Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing .
+
+
+Signior Lucentio , this is the 'pointed day
+That Katharine and Petruchio should be married ,
+And yet we hear not of our son-in-law .
+What will be said ? what mockery will it be
+To want the bridegroom when the priest attends
+To speak the ceremonial rites of marriage !
+What says Lucentio to this shame of ours ?
+
+No shame but mine : I must , forsooth , be forc'd
+To give my hand oppos'd against my heart
+Unto a mad-brain rudesby , full of spleen ;
+Who woo'd in haste and means to wed at leisure .
+I told you , I , he was a frantic fool ,
+Hiding his bitter jests in blunt behaviour ;
+And to be noted for a merry man ,
+He'll woo a thousand , 'point the day of marriage ,
+Make friends invite , and proclaim the banns ;
+Yet never means to wed where he hath woo'd .
+Now must the world point at poor Katharine ,
+And say , 'Lo ! there is mad Petruchio's wife ,
+If it would please him come and marry her .'
+
+Patience , good Katharine , and Baptista too .
+Upon my life , Petruchio means but well ,
+Whatever fortune stays him from his word :
+Though he be blunt , I know him passing wise ;
+Though he be merry , yet withal he's honest .
+
+Would Katharine had never seen him though !
+
+
+Go , girl : I cannot blame thee now to weep ,
+For such an injury would vex a very saint ,
+Much more a shrew of thy impatient humour .
+
+
+Master , master ! news ! old news , and such news as you never heard of !
+
+Is it new and old too ? how may that be ?
+
+Why , is it not news to hear of Petruchio's coming ?
+
+Is he come ?
+
+Why , no , sir .
+
+What then ?
+
+He is coming .
+
+When will he be here ?
+
+When he stands where I am and sees you there .
+
+But , say , what to thine old news ?
+
+Why , Petruchio is coming , in a new hat and an old jerkin ; a pair of old breeches thrice turned ; a pair of boots that have been candle-cases , one buckled , another laced ; an old rusty sword ta'en out of the town-armoury , with a broken hilt , and chapeless ; with two broken points : his horse hipped with an old mothy saddle and stirrups of no kindred ; besides , possessed with the glanders and like to mose in the chine ; troubled with the lampass , infected with the fashions , full of windgalls , sped with spavins , rayed with the yellows , past cure of the fives , stark spoiled with the staggers , begnawn with the bots , swayed in the back , and shoulder-shotten ; near-legged before , and with a half-checked bit , and a head-stall of sheep's leather , which , being restrained to keep him from stumbling , hath been often burst and now repaired with knots ; one girth six times pieced , and a woman's crupper of velure , which hath two letters for her name fairly set down in studs , and here and there pieced with packthread .
+
+Who comes with him ?
+
+O , sir ! his lackey , for all the world caparisoned like the horse ; with a linen stock on one leg and a kersey boot-hose on the other , gartered with a red and blue list ; an old hat , and the 'humour of forty fancies' pricked in't for a feather : a monster , a very monster in apparel , and not like a Christian footboy or a gentleman's lackey .
+
+'Tis some odd humour pricks him to this fashion ;
+Yet oftentimes he goes but mean-apparell'd .
+
+I am glad he is come , howsoe'er he comes .
+
+Why , sir , he comes not .
+
+Didst thou not say he comes ?
+
+Who ? that Petruchio came ?
+
+Ay , that Petruchio came .
+
+No , sir ; I say his horse comes , with him on his back .
+
+Why , that's all one .
+
+
+Nay , by Saint Jamy ,
+I hold you a penny ,
+A horse and a man
+Is more than one ,
+And yet not many .
+
+Come , where be these gallants ? who is at home ?
+
+You are welcome , sir .
+
+And yet I come not well .
+
+And yet you halt not .
+
+Not so well apparell'd
+As I wish you were .
+
+Were it better , I should rush in thus .
+But where is Kate ? where is my lovely bride ?
+How does my father ? Gentles , methinks you frown :
+And wherefore gaze this goodly company ,
+As if they saw some wondrous monument ,
+Some comet , or unusual prodigy ?
+
+Why , sir , you know this is your weddingday :
+First were we sad , fearing you would not come ;
+Now sadder , that you come so unprovided .
+Fie ! doff this habit , shame to your estate ,
+An eye-sore to our solemn festival .
+
+And tell us what occasion of import
+Hath all so long detain'd you from your wife ,
+And sent you hither so unlike yourself ?
+
+Tedious it were to tell , and harsh to hear :
+Sufficeth , I am come to keep my word ,
+Though in some part enforced to digress ;
+Which , at more leisure , I will so excuse
+As you shall well be satisfied withal .
+But where is Kate ? I stay too long from her :
+The morning wears , 'tis time we were at church .
+
+See not your bride in these unreverent robes :
+Go to my chamber ; put on clothes of mine .
+
+Not I , believe me : thus I'll visit her .
+
+But thus , I trust , you will not marry her .
+
+Good sooth , even thus ; therefore ha' done with words :
+To me she's married , not unto my clothes .
+Could I repair what she will wear in me
+As I can change these poor accoutrements ,
+'Twere well for Kate and better for myself .
+But what a fool am I to chat with you
+When I should bid good morrow to my bride ,
+And seal the title with a lovely kiss !
+
+
+He hath some meaning in his mad attire .
+We will persuade him , be it possible ,
+To put on better ere he go to church .
+
+I'll after him , and see the event of this .
+
+
+But to her love concerneth us to add
+Her father's liking : which to bring to pass ,
+As I before imparted to your worship ,
+I am to get a man ,whate'er he be
+It skills not much , we'll fit him to our turn ,
+And he shall be Vincentio of Pisa ,
+And make assurance here in Padua ,
+Of greater sums than I have promised .
+So shall you quietly enjoy your hope ,
+And marry sweet Bianca with consent .
+
+Were it not that my fellow schoolmaster
+Doth watch Bianca's steps so narrowly ,
+'Twere good , methinks , to steal our marriage ;
+Which once perform'd , let all the world say no ,
+I'll keep mine own , despite of all the world .
+
+That by degrees we mean to look into ,
+And watch our vantage in this business .
+We'll over-reach the greybeard , Gremio ,
+The narrow-prying father , Minola ,
+The quaint musician , amorous Licio ;
+All for my master's sake , Lucentio .
+
+Signior Gremio , came you from the church ?
+
+As willingly as e'er I came from school .
+
+And is the bride and bridegroom coming home ?
+
+A bridegroom say you ? 'Tis a groom indeed ,
+A grumbling groom , and that the girl shall find .
+
+Curster than she ? why , 'tis impossible .
+
+Why , he's a devil , a devil , a very fiend .
+
+Why , she's a devil , a devil , the devil's dam .
+
+Tut ! she's a lamb , a dove , a fool to him .
+I'll tell you , Sir Lucentio : when the priest
+Should ask , if Katharine should be his wife ,
+'Ay , by gogs-wouns !' quoth he ; and swore so loud ,
+That , all amaz'd , the priest let fall the book ;
+And , as he stoop'd again to take it up ,
+The mad-brain'd bridegroom took him such a cuff
+That down fell priest and book and book and priest :
+'Now take them up ,' quoth he , 'if any list .'
+
+What said the wench when he arose again ?
+
+Trembled and shook ; for why he stampt and swore ,
+As if the vicar meant to cozen him .
+But after many ceremonies done ,
+He calls for wine : 'A health !' quoth he ; as if
+He had been aboard , carousing to his mates
+After a storm ; quaff'd off the muscadel ,
+And threw the sops all in the sexton's face ;
+Having no other reason
+But that his beard grew thin and hungerly ,
+And seem'd to ask him sops as he was drinking .
+This done , he took the bride about the neck ,
+And kiss'd her lips with such a clamorous smack
+That at the parting all the church did echo :
+And I , seeing this , came thence for very shame ;
+And after me , I know , the rout is coming .
+Such a mad marriage never was before .
+Hark , hark ! I hear the minstrels play .
+
+Gentlemen and friends , I thank you for your pains :
+I know you think to dine with me to-day ,
+And have prepar'd great store of wedding cheer ;
+But so it is , my haste doth call me hence ,
+And therefore here I mean to take my leave .
+
+Is't possible you will away to-night ?
+
+I must away to-day , before night come .
+Make it no wonder : if you knew my business ,
+You would entreat me rather go than stay .
+And , honest company , I thank you all ,
+That have beheld me give away myself
+To this most patient , sweet , and virtuous wife .
+Dine with my father , drink a health to me ,
+For I must hence ; and farewell to you all .
+
+Let us entreat you stay till after dinner .
+
+It may not be .
+
+Let me entreat you .
+
+It cannot be .
+
+Let me entreat you .
+
+I am content .
+
+Are you content to stay ?
+
+I am content you shall entreat me stay ,
+But yet not stay , entreat me how you can .
+
+Now , if you love me , stay .
+
+Grumio , my horse !
+
+Ay , sir , they be ready : the oats have eaten the horses .
+
+Nay , then ,
+Do what thou canst , I will not go to-day ;
+No , nor to-morrow , nor till I please myself ,
+The door is open , sir , there lies your way ;
+You may be jogging whiles your boots are green ;
+For me , I'll not be gone till I please myself .
+'Tis like you'll prove a jolly surly groom ,
+That take it on you at the first so roundly .
+
+O Kate ! content thee : prithee , be not angry .
+
+I will be angry : what hast thou to do ?
+Father , be quiet ; he shall stay my leisure .
+
+Ay , marry , sir , now it begins to work .
+
+Gentlemen , forward to the bridal dinner :
+I see a woman may be made a fool ,
+If she had not a spirit to resist .
+
+They shall go forward , Kate , at thy command .
+Obey the bride , you that attend on her ;
+Go to the feast , revel and domineer ,
+Carouse full measure to her maidenhead ,
+Be mad and merry , or go hang yourselves :
+But for my bonny Kate , she must with me .
+Nay , look not big , nor stamp , nor stare , nor fret ;
+I will be master of what is mine own .
+She is my goods , my chattels ; she is my house ,
+My household stuff , my field , my barn ,
+My horse , my ox , my ass , my anything ;
+And here she stands , touch her whoever dare ;
+I'll bring mine action on the proudest he
+That stops my way in Padua . Grumio ,
+Draw forth thy weapon , we're beset with thieves ;
+Rescue thy mistress , if thou be a man .
+Fear not , sweet wench ; they shall not touch thee , Kate :
+I'll buckler thee against a million .
+
+
+Nay , let them go , a couple of quiet ones .
+
+Went they not quickly I should die with laughing .
+
+Of all mad matches never was the like .
+
+Mistress , what's your opinion of your sister ?
+
+That , being mad herself , she's madly mated .
+
+I warrant him , Petruchio is Kated .
+
+Neighbours and friends , though bride and bridegroom wants
+For to supply the places at the table ,
+You know there wants no junkets at the feast .
+Lucentio , you shall supply the bridegroom's place ,
+And let Bianca take her sister's room .
+
+Shall sweet Bianca practise how to bride it ?
+
+She shall , Lucentio . Come , gentlemen , let's go .
+
+Fie , fie , on all tired jades , on all mad masters , and all foul ways ! Was ever man so beaten ? was ever man so rayed ? was ever man so weary ? I am sent before to make a fire , and they are coming after to warm them . Now , were not I a little pot and soon hot , my very lips might freeze to my teeth , my tongue to the roof of my mouth , my heart in my belly , ere I should come by a fire to thaw me ; but I , with blowing the fire , shall warm myself ; for , considering the weather , a taller man than I will take cold . Holla , ho ! Curtis .
+
+
+Who is that calls so coldly ?
+
+A piece of ice : if thou doubt it , thou mayst slide from my shoulder to my heel with no greater a run but my head and my neck . A fire , good Curtis .
+
+Is my master and his wife coming , Grumio ?
+
+O ! ay , Curtis , ay ; and therefore fire , fire ; cast on no water .
+
+Is she so hot a shrew as she's reported ?
+
+She was , good Curtis , before this frost ; but , thou knowest , winter tames man , woman , and beast ; for it hath tamed my old master , and my new mistress , and myself , fellow Curtis .
+
+Away , you three-inch-fool ! I am no beast .
+
+Am I but three inches ? why , thy horn is a foot ; and so long am I at the least . But wilt thou make a fire , or shall I complain on thee to our mistress , whose hand ,she being now at hand ,thou shalt soon feel , to thy cold comfort , for being slow in thy hot office ?
+
+I prithee , good Grumio , tell me , how goes the world ?
+
+A cold world , Curtis , in every office but thine ; and therefore , fire . Do thy duty , and have thy duty , for my master and mistress are almost frozen to death .
+
+There's fire ready ; and therefore , good Grumio , the news ?
+
+Why , 'Jack , boy ! ho , boy !' and as much news as thou wilt .
+
+Come , you are so full of cony-catching .
+
+Why therefore fire : for I have caught extreme cold . Where's the cook ? is supper ready , the house trimmed , rushes strewed , cobwebs swept ; the serving-men in their new fustian , their white stockings , and every officer his wedding-garment on ? Be the Jacks fair within , the Jills fair without , and carpets laid , and everything in order ?
+
+All ready ; and therefore , I pray thee , news ?
+
+First , know , my horse is tired ; my master and mistress fallen out .
+
+How ?
+
+Out of their saddles into the dirt ; and thereby hangs a tale .
+
+Let's ha't , good Grumio .
+
+Lend thine ear .
+
+Here .
+
+There .
+
+This is to feel a tale , not to hear a tale .
+
+And therefore it is called a sensible tale ; and this cuff was but to knock at your ear and beseech listening . Now I begin : Imprimis , we came down a foul hill , my master riding behind my mistress ,
+
+Both of one horse ?
+
+What's that to thee ?
+
+Why , a horse .
+
+Tell thou the tale : but hadst thou not crossed me thou shouldst have heard how her horse fell , and she under her horse ; thou shouldst have heard in how miry a place , how she was bemoiled : how he left her with the horse upon her ; how he beat me because her horse stumbled ; how she waded through the dirt to pluck him off me : how he swore ; how she prayed , that never prayed before ; how I cried ; how the horses ran away ; how her bridle was burst ; how I lost my crupper ; with many things of worthy memory , which now shall die in oblivion , and thou return unexperienced to thy grave .
+
+By this reckoning he is more shrew than she .
+
+Ay ; and that , thou and the proudest of you all shall find when he comes home . But what talk I of this ? Call forth Nathaniel , Joseph , Nicholas , Philip , Walter , Sugarsop , and the rest : let their heads be sleekly combed , their blue coats brushed , and their garters of an indifferent knit : let them curtsy with their left legs , and not presume to touch a hair of my master's horsetail till they kiss their hands . Are they all ready ?
+
+They are .
+
+Call them forth .
+
+Do you hear ? ho ! you must meet my master to countenance my mistress .
+
+Why , she hath a face of her own .
+
+Who knows not that ?
+
+Thou , it seems , that callest for company to countenance her .
+
+I call them forth to credit her .
+
+Why , she comes to borrow nothing of them .
+
+
+Welcome home , Grumio !
+
+How now , Grumio ?
+
+What , Grumio !
+
+Fellow Grumio !
+
+How now , old lad !
+
+Welcome , you ; how now , you ; what , you ; fellow , you ; and thus much for greeting . Now , my spruce companions , is all ready , and all things neat ?
+
+All things is ready . How near is our master ?
+
+E'en at hand , alighted by this ; and therefore be not ,Cock's passion , silence ! I hear my master .
+
+
+Where be these knaves ? What ! no man at door
+To hold my stirrup nor to take my horse ?
+Where is Nathaniel , Gregory , Philip ?
+
+Here , here , sir ; here , sir .
+
+Here , sir ! here , sir ! here , sir ! here , sir !
+You logger-headed and unpolish'd grooms !
+What , no attendance ? no regard ? no duty ?
+Where is the foolish knave I sent before ?
+
+Here , sir ; as foolish as I was before .
+
+You peasant swain ! you whoreson malt-horse drudge !
+Did I not bid thee meet me in the park ,
+And bring along these rascal knaves with thee ?
+
+Nathaniel's coat , sir , was not fully made ,
+And Gabriel's pumps were all unpink'd i' the heel ,
+There was no link to colour Peter's hat ,
+And Walter's dagger was not come from sheathing ,
+There were none fine but Adam , Ralph , and Gregory ;
+The rest were ragged , old , and beggarly ;
+Yet , as they are , here are they come to meet you .
+
+Go , rascals , go , and fetch my supper in .
+
+Where is the life that late I led ?
+Where are those ? Sit down , Kate , and welcome .
+Soud , soud , soud , soud !
+
+
+Why , when , I say ?Nay , good sweet Kate , be merry .
+Off with my boots , you rogues ! you villains ! When ?
+
+It was the friar of orders grey ,
+As he forth walked on his way :
+
+Out , you rogue ! you pluck my foot awry :
+
+Take that , and mend the plucking off the other .
+Be merry , Kate . Some water , here ; what , ho !
+Where's my spaniel Troilus ? Sirrah , get you hence
+And bid my cousin Ferdinand come hither :
+
+One , Kate , that you must kiss , and be acquainted with .
+Where are my slippers ? Shall I have some water ?
+Come , Kate , and wash , and welcome heartily .
+
+
+You whoreson villain ! will you let it fall ?
+
+Patience , I pray you ; 'twas a fault unwilling .
+
+A whoreson , beetle-headed , flap-ear'd knave !
+Come , Kate , sit down ; I know you have a stomach .
+Will you give thanks , sweet Kate , or else shall I ?
+What's this ? mutton ?
+
+Ay .
+
+Who brought it ?
+
+I .
+
+'Tis burnt ; and so is all the meat .
+What dogs are these ! Where is the rascal cook ?
+How durst you , villains , bring it from the dresser ,
+And serve it thus to me that love it not ?
+
+There , take it to you , trenchers , cups , and all .
+You heedless joltheads and unmanner'd slaves !
+What ! do you grumble ? I'll be with you straight .
+
+I pray you , husband , be not so disquiet :
+The meat was well if you were so contented .
+
+I tell thee , Kate , 'twas burnt and dried away ;
+And I expressly am forbid to touch it ,
+For it engenders choler , planteth anger ;
+And better 'twere that both of us did fast ,
+Since , of ourselves , ourselves are choleric ,
+Than feed it with such over-roasted flesh .
+Be patient ; to-morrow't shall be mended ,
+And for this night we'll fast for company :
+Come , I will bring thee to thy bridal chamber .
+
+
+Peter , didst ever see the like ?
+
+He kills her in her own humour .
+
+
+Where is he ?
+
+In her chamber , making a sermon of continency to her ;
+And rails , and swears , and rates , that she , poor soul ,
+Knows not which way to stand , to look , to speak ,
+And sits as one new-risen from a dream .
+Away , away ! for he is coming hither .
+
+Thus have I politicly begun my reign ,
+And 'tis my hope to end successfully .
+My falcon now is sharp and passing empty ,
+And till she stoop she must not be full-gorg'd ,
+For then she never looks upon her lure .
+Another way I have to man my haggard ,
+To make her come and know her keeper's call ;
+That is , to watch her , as we watch these kites
+That bate and beat and will not be obedient .
+She eat no meat to-day , nor none shall eat ;
+Last night she slept not , nor to-night she shall not :
+As with the meat , some undeserved fault
+I'll find about the making of the bed ;
+And here I'll fling the pillow , there the bolster ,
+This way the coverlet , another way the sheets :
+Ay , and amid this hurly I intend
+That all is done in reverend care of her ;
+And in conclusion she shall watch all night :
+And if she chance to nod I'll rail and brawl ,
+And with the clamour keep her still awake .
+This is a way to kill a wife with kindness ;
+And thus I'll curb her mad and headstrong humour .
+He that knows better how to tame a shrew ,
+Now let him speak : 'tis charity to show .
+
+
+Is't possible , friend Licio , that Mistress Bianca
+Doth fancy any other but Lucentio ?
+I tell you , sir , she bears me fair in hand .
+
+Sir , to satisfy you in what I have said ,
+Stand by , and mark the manner of his teaching .
+
+Now , mistress , profit you in what you read ?
+
+What , master , read you ? first resolve me that .
+
+I read that I profess , the Art to Love .
+
+And may you prove , sir , master of your art !
+
+While you , sweet dear , prove mistress of my heart .
+
+
+Quick proceeders , marry ! Now , tell me , I pray ,
+You that durst swear that your mistress Bianca
+Lov'd none in the world so well as Lucentio .
+
+O despiteful love ! unconstant womankind !
+I tell thee , Licio , this is wonderful .
+
+Mistake no more : I am not Licio ,
+Nor a musician , as I seem to be ;
+But one that scorns to live in this disguise ,
+For such a one as leaves a gentleman ,
+And makes a god of such a cullion :
+Know , sir , that I am call'd Hortensio .
+
+Signior Hortensio , I have often heard
+Of your entire affection to Bianca ;
+And since mine eyes are witness of her lightness ,
+I will with you , if you be so contented ,
+Forswear Bianca and her love for ever .
+
+See , how they kiss and court ! Signior Lucentio ,
+Here is my hand , and here I firmly vow
+Never to woo her more ; but I do forswear her ,
+As one unworthy all the former favours
+That I have fondly flatter'd her withal .
+
+And here I take the like unfeigned oath ,
+Never to marry with her though she would entreat .
+Fie on her ! see how beastly she doth court him .
+
+Would all the world , but he had quite forsworn !
+For me , that I may surely keep mine oath ,
+I will be married to a wealthy widow
+Ere three days pass , which hath as long lov'd me
+As I have lov'd this proud disdainful haggard .
+And so farewell , Signior Lucentio .
+Kindness in women , not their beauteous looks ,
+Shall win my love : and so I take my leave ,
+In resolution as I swore before .
+
+
+Mistress Bianca , bless you with such grace
+As 'longeth to a lover's blessed case !
+Nay , I have ta'en you napping , gentle love ,
+And have forsworn you with Hortensio .
+
+Tranio , you jest . But have you both forsworn me ?
+
+Mistress , we have .
+
+Then we are rid of Licio .
+
+I' faith , he'll have a lusty widow now , That shall be woo'd and wedded in a day .
+
+God give him joy !
+
+Ay , and he'll tame her .
+
+He says so , Tranio .
+
+Faith , he is gone unto the taming-school .
+
+The taming-school ! what , is there such a place ?
+
+Ay , mistress , and Petruchio is the master ;
+That teacheth tricks eleven and twenty long ,
+To tame a shrew , and charm her chattering tongue .
+
+
+O master , master ! I have watch'd so long
+That I'm dog-weary ; but at last I spied
+An ancient angel coming down the hill
+Will serve the turn .
+
+What is he , Biondello ?
+
+Master , a mercatante , or a pedant ,
+I know not what ; but formal in apparel ,
+In gait and countenance surely like a father .
+
+And what of him , Tranio ?
+
+If he be credulous and trust my tale ,
+I'll make him glad to seem Vincentio ,
+And give assurance to Baptista Minola ,
+As if he were the right Vincentio .
+Take in your love , and then let me alone .
+
+God save you , sir !
+
+And you , sir ! you are welcome .
+Travel you far on , or are you at the furthest ?
+
+Sir , at the furthest for a week or two ;
+But then up further , and as far as Rome ;
+And so to Tripoli , if God lend me life .
+
+What countryman , I pray ?
+
+Of Mantua .
+
+Of Mantua , sir ! marry , God forbid !
+And come to Padua , careless of your life ?
+
+My life , sir ! how , I pray ? for that goes hard .
+
+'Tis death for any one in Mantua
+To come to Padua . Know you not the cause ?
+Your ships are stay'd at Venice ; and the duke ,
+For private quarrel 'twixt your duke and him ,
+Hath publish'd and proclaim'd it openly .
+'Tis marvel , but that you are but newly come ,
+You might have heard it else proclaim'd about .
+
+Alas , sir ! it is worse for me than so ;
+For I have bills for money by exchange
+From Florence , and must here deliver them .
+
+Well , sir , to do you courtesy ,
+This will I do , and this I will advise you :
+First , tell me , have you ever been at Pisa ?
+
+Ay , sir , in Pisa have I often been ;
+Pisa , renowned for grave citizens .
+
+Among them , know you one Vincentio ?
+
+I know him not , but I have heard of him ;
+A merchant of incomparable wealth .
+
+He is my father , sir ; and , sooth to say ,
+In countenance somewhat doth resemble you .
+
+As much as an apple doth an oyster , and all one .
+
+To save your life in this extremity ,
+This favour will I do you for his sake ;
+And think it not the worst of all your fortunes
+That you are like to Sir Vincentio .
+His name and credit shall you undertake ,
+And in my house you shall be friendly lodg'd ,
+Look that you take upon you as you should !
+You understand me , sir ; so shall you stay
+Till you have done your business in the city .
+If this be courtesy , sir , accept of it .
+
+O sir , I do ; and will repute you ever
+The patron of my life and liberty .
+
+Then go with me to make the matter good .
+This , by the way , I let you understand :
+My father is here look'd for every day ,
+To pass assurance of a dower in marriage
+'Twixt me and one Baptista's daughter here :
+In all these circumstances I'll instruct you .
+Go with me to clothe you as becomes you .
+
+
+No , no , forsooth ; I dare not , for my life .
+
+The more my wrong the more his spite appears .
+What , did he marry me to famish me ?
+Beggars , that come unto my father's door ,
+Upon entreaty have a present alms ;
+If not , elsewhere they meet with charity :
+But I , who never knew how to entreat ,
+Nor never needed that I should entreat ,
+Am starv'd for meat , giddy for lack of sleep ;
+With oaths kept waking , and with brawling fed .
+And that which spites me more than all these wants ,
+He does it under name of perfect love ;
+As who should say , if I should sleep or eat
+'Twere deadly sickness , or else present death .
+I prithee go and get me some repast ;
+I care not what , so it be wholesome food .
+
+What say you to a neat's foot ?
+
+'Tis passing good : I prithee let me have it .
+
+I fear it is too choleric a meat .
+How say you to a fat tripe finely broil'd ?
+
+I like it well : good Grumio , fetch it me .
+
+I cannot tell ; I fear 'tis choleric .
+What say you to a piece of beef and mustard ?
+
+A dish that I do love to feed upon .
+
+Ay , but the mustard is too hot a little .
+
+Why , then the beef , and let the mustard rest .
+
+Nay , then I will not : you shall have the mustard ,
+Or else you get no beef of Grumio .
+
+Then both , or one , or anything thou wilt .
+
+Why then , the mustard without the beef .
+
+Go , get thee gone , thou false deluding slave ,
+
+That feed'st me with the very name of meat .
+Sorrow on thee and all the pack of you ,
+That triumph thus upon my misery !
+Go , get thee gone , I say .
+
+
+How fares my Kate ? What , sweeting , all amort ?
+
+Mistress , what cheer ?
+
+Faith , as cold as can be .
+
+Pluck up thy spirits ; look cheerfully upon me .
+Here , love ; thou seest how diligent I am ,
+To dress thy meat myself and bring it thee :
+
+I am sure , sweet Kate , this kindness merits thanks .
+What ! not a word ? Nay then , thou lov'st it not ,
+And all my pains is sorted to no proof .
+Here , take away this dish .
+
+I pray you , let it stand .
+
+The poorest service is repaid with thanks ,
+And so shall mine , before you touch the meat .
+
+I thank you , sir .
+
+Signior Petruchio , fie ! you are to blame .
+Come , Mistress Kate , I'll bear you company .
+
+Eat it up all , Hortensio , if thou lov'st me .
+Much good do it unto thy gentle heart !
+Kate , eat apace : and now , my honey love ,
+Will we return unto thy father's house ,
+And revel it as bravely as the best ,
+With silken coats and caps and golden rings ,
+With ruffs and cuffs and farthingales and things ;
+With scarfs and fans and double change of bravery ,
+With amber bracelets , beads and all this knavery .
+What ! hast thou din'd ? The tailor stays thy leisure ,
+To deck thy body with his ruffling treasure .
+
+
+Come , tailor , let us see these ornaments ;
+Lay forth the gown .
+
+
+What news with you , sir ?
+
+Here is the cap your worship did bespeak .
+
+Why , this was moulded on a porringer ;
+A velvet dish : fie , fie ! 'tis lewd and filthy :
+Why , 'tis a cockle or a walnut-shell ,
+A knack , a toy , a trick , a baby's cap :
+Away with it ! come , let me have a bigger .
+
+I'll have no bigger : this doth fit the time ,
+And gentlewomen wear such caps as these .
+
+When you are gentle , you shall have one too ;
+And not till then .
+
+That will not be in haste .
+
+Why , sir , I trust I may have leave to speak ,
+And speak I will ; I am no child , no babe :
+Your betters have endur'd me say my mind ,
+And if you cannot , best you stop your ears .
+My tongue will tell the anger of my heart ,
+Or else my heart , concealing it , will break :
+And rather than it shall , I will be free
+Even to the uttermost , as I please , in words .
+
+Why , thou sayst true ; it is a paltry cap ,
+A custard-coffin , a bauble , a silken pie .
+I love thee well in that thou lik'st it not .
+
+Love me or love me not , I like the cap ,
+And it I will have , or I will have none .
+
+
+Thy gown ? why , ay : come , tailor , let us see't .
+O mercy , God ! what masquing stuff is here ?
+What's this ? a sleeve ? 'tis like a demi-cannon :
+What ! up and down , carv'd like an apple-tart ?
+Here's snip and nip and cut and slish and slash ,
+Like to a censer in a barber's shop .
+Why , what , i' devil's name , tailor , call'st thou this ?
+
+I see , she's like to have neither cap nor gown .
+
+You bid me make it orderly and well ,
+According to the fashion and the time .
+
+Marry , and did : but if you be remember'd ,
+I did not bid you mar it to the time .
+Go , hop me over every kennel home ,
+For you shall hop without my custom , sir .
+I'll none of it : hence ! make your best of it .
+
+I never saw a better-fashion'd gown ,
+More quaint , more pleasing , nor more commendable .
+Belike you mean to make a puppet of me .
+
+Why , true ; he means to make a puppet of thee .
+
+She says your worship means to make a puppet of her .
+
+O monstrous arrogance ! Thou liest , thou thread ,
+Thou thimble ,
+Thou yard , three-quarters , half-yard , quarter , nail !
+Thou flea , thou nit , thou winter-cricket thou !
+Brav'd in mine own house with a skein of thread !
+Away ! thou rag , thou quantity , thou remnant ,
+Or I shall so be-mete thee with thy yard
+As thou shalt think on prating whilst thou liv'st !
+I tell thee , I , that thou hast marr'd her gown .
+
+Your worship is deceiv'd : the gown is made
+Just as my master had direction .
+Grumio gave order how it should be done .
+
+I gave him no order ; I gave him the stuff .
+
+But how did you desire it should be made ?
+
+Marry , sir , with needle and thread .
+
+But did you not request to have it cut ?
+
+Thou hast faced many things .
+
+I have .
+
+Face not me : thou hast braved many men ; brave not me : I will neither be faced nor braved . I say unto thee , I bid thy master cut out the gown ; but I did not bid him cut it to pieces : ergo , thou liest .
+
+Why , here is the note of the fashion to testify .
+
+Read it .
+
+The note lies in's throat if he say I said so .
+
+Imprimis . A loose-bodied gown .
+
+Master , if ever I said loose-bodied gown , sew me in the skirts of it , and beat me to death with a bottom of brown thread . I said , a gown .
+
+Proceed .
+
+With a small compassed cape .
+
+I confess the cape .
+
+With a trunk sleeve .
+
+I confess two sleeves .
+
+The sleeves curiously cut .
+
+Ay , there's the villany .
+
+Error i' the bill , sir ; error i' the bill . I commanded the sleeves should be cut out and sewed up again ; and that I'll prove upon thee , though thy little finger be armed in a thimble .
+
+This is true that I say : an I had thee in place where thou shouldst know it .
+
+I am for thee straight : take thou the bill , give me thy mete-yard , and spare not me .
+
+God-a-mercy , Grumio ! then he shall have no odds .
+
+Well , sir , in brief , the gown is not for me .
+
+You are i' the right , sir ; 'tis for my mistress .
+
+Go , take it up unto thy master's use .
+
+Villain , not for thy life ! take up my mistress' gown for thy master's use !
+
+Why , sir , what's your conceit in that ?
+
+O , sir , the conceit is deeper than you think for .
+Take up my mistress' gown to his master's use !
+O , fie , fie , fie !
+
+Hortensio , say thou wilt see the tailor paid .
+
+
+Go take it hence ; be gone , and say no more .
+
+Tailor , I'll pay thee for thy gown to-morrow :
+Take no unkindness of his hasty words .
+Away ! I say ; commend me to thy master .
+
+
+Well , come , my Kate ; we will unto your father's ,
+Even in these honest mean habiliments .
+Our purses shall be proud , our garments poor :
+For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich ;
+And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds ,
+So honour peereth in the meanest habit .
+What is the jay more precious than the lark
+Because his feathers are more beautiful ?
+Or is the adder better than the eel
+Because his painted skin contents the eye ?
+O , no , good Kate ; neither art thou the worse
+For this poor furniture and mean array .
+If thou account'st it shame , lay it on me ;
+And therefore frolic : we will hence forthwith ,
+To feast and sport us at thy father's house .
+Go , call my men , and let us straight to him ;
+And bring our horses unto Long-lane end ;
+There will we mount , and thither walk on foot .
+Let's see ; I think 'tis now some seven o'clock ,
+And well we may come there by dinner-time .
+
+I dare assure you , sir , 'tis almost two ;
+And 'twill be supper-time ere you come there .
+
+It shall be seven ere I go to horse .
+Look , what I speak , or do , or think to do ,
+You are still crossing it . Sirs , let't alone :
+I will not go to-day ; and ere I do ,
+It shall be what o'clock I say it is .
+
+Why , so this gallant will command the sun .
+
+
+Sir , this is the house : please it you that I call ?
+
+Ay , what else ? and , but I be deceived ,
+Signior Baptista may remember me ,
+Near twenty years ago , in Genoa ,
+Where we were lodgers at the Pegasus .
+
+'Tis well ; and hold your own , in any case ,
+With such austerity as 'longeth to a father .
+
+I warrant you . But , sir , here comes your boy ;
+'Twere good he were school'd .
+
+
+Fear you not him . Sirrah Biondello ,
+Now do your duty throughly , I advise you :
+Imagine 'twere the right Vincentio .
+
+Tut ! fear not me .
+
+But hast thou done thy errand to Baptista ?
+
+I told him that your father was at Venice ,
+And that you look'd for him this day in Padua .
+
+Thou'rt a tall fellow : hold thee that to drink .
+Here comes Baptista . Set your countenance , sir .
+
+
+Signior Baptista , you are happily met .
+
+
+Sir , this is the gentleman I told you of :
+I pray you , stand good father to me now ,
+
+Give me Bianca for my patrimony .
+
+Soft , son !
+Sir , by your leave : having come to Padua
+To gather in some debts , my son Lucentio
+Made me acquainted with a weighty cause
+Of love between your daughter and himself :
+And ,for the good report I hear of you ,
+And for the love he beareth to your daughter ,
+And she to him ,to stay him not too long ,
+I am content , in a good father's care ,
+To have him match'd ; and , if you please to like
+No worse than I , upon some agreement
+Me shall you find ready and willing
+With one consent to have her so bestow'd ;
+For curious I cannot be with you ,
+Signior Baptista , of whom I hear so well .
+
+Sir , pardon me in what I have to say :
+Your plainness and your shortness please me well .
+Right true it is , your son Lucentio here
+Doth love my daughter and she loveth him ,
+Or both dissemble deeply their affections :
+And therefore , if you say no more than this ,
+That like a father you will deal with him
+And pass my daughter a sufficient dower ,
+The match is made , and all is done :
+Your son shall have my daughter with consent .
+
+I thank you , sir . Where , then , do you know best
+We be affied and such assurance ta'en
+As shall with either part's agreement stand ?
+
+Not in my house , Lucentio ; for , you know ,
+Pitchers have ears , and I have many servants .
+Besides , old Gremio is hearkening still ,
+And happily we might be interrupted .
+
+Then at my lodging an it like you :
+There doth my father lie , and there this night
+We'll pass the business privately and well .
+Send for your daughter by your servant here ;
+My boy shall fetch the scrivener presently .
+The worst is this , that , at so slender warning ,
+You're like to have a thin and slender pittance .
+
+It likes me well . Cambio , hie you home ,
+And bid Bianca make her ready straight ;
+And , if you will , tell what hath happened :
+Lucentio's father is arriv'd in Padua ,
+And how she's like to be Lucentio's wife .
+
+I pray the gods she may with all my heart !
+
+Dally not with the gods , but get thee gone .
+Signior Baptista , shall I lead the way ?
+Welcome ! one mess is like to be your cheer .
+Come , sir ; we will better it in Pisa .
+
+I follow you .
+
+
+Cambio !
+
+What sayst thou , Biondello ?
+
+You saw my master wink and laugh upon you ?
+
+Biondello , what of that ?
+
+Faith , nothing ; but he has left me here behind to expound the meaning or moral of his signs and tokens .
+
+I pray thee , moralize them .
+
+Then thus . Baptista is safe , talking with the deceiving father of a deceitful son .
+
+And what of him ?
+
+His daughter is to be brought by you to the supper .
+
+And then ?
+
+The old priest at Saint Luke's church is at your command at all hours .
+
+And what of all this ?
+
+I cannot tell , expect they are busied about a counterfeit assurance : take you assurance of her , cum privilegio ad imprimendum solum . To the church ! take the priest , clerk , and some sufficient honest witnesses .
+If this be not that you look for , I have no more to say ,
+But bid Bianca farewell for ever and a day .
+
+
+Hearest thou , Biondello ?
+
+I cannot tarry : I knew a wench married in an afternoon as she went to the garden for parsley to stuff a rabbit ; and so may you , sir ; and so , adieu , sir . My master hath appointed me to go to Saint Luke's , to bid the priest be ready to come against you come with your appendix .
+
+
+I may , and will , if she be so contented :
+She will be pleas'd ; then wherefore should I doubt ?
+Hap what hap may , I'll roundly go about her :
+It shall go hard if Cambio go without her .
+
+
+Come on , i' God's name ; once more toward our father's .
+Good Lord , how bright and goodly shines the moon !
+
+The moon ! the sun : it is not moonlight now .
+
+I say it is the moon that shines so bright .
+
+I know it is the sun that shines so bright .
+
+Now , by my mother's son , and that's myself ,
+It shall be moon , or star , or what I list ,
+Or ere I journey to your father's house .
+Go one and fetch our horses back again .
+Evermore cross'd and cross'd ; nothing but cross'd !
+
+Say as he says , or we shall never go .
+
+Forward , I pray , since we have come so far ,
+And be it moon , or sun , or what you please .
+An if you please to call it a rush-candle ,
+Henceforth I vow it shall be so for me .
+
+I say it is the moon .
+
+I know it is the moon .
+
+Nay , then you lie ; it is the blessed sun .
+
+Then God be bless'd , it is the blessed sun :
+But sun it is not when you say it is not ,
+And the moon changes even as your mind .
+What you will have it nam'd , even that it is ;
+And so , it shall be so for Katharine .
+
+Petruchio , go thy ways ; the field is won .
+
+Well , forward , forward ! thus the bowl should run ,
+And not unluckily against the bias .
+But soft ! what company is coming here ?
+
+
+Good morrow , gentle mistress : where away ?
+Tell me , sweet Kate , and tell me truly too ,
+Hast thou beheld a fresher gentlewoman ?
+Such war of white and red within her cheeks !
+What stars do spangle heaven with such beauty ,
+As those two eyes become that heavenly face ?
+Fair lovely maid , once more good day to thee .
+
+Sweet Kate , embrace her for her beauty's sake .
+
+A' will make the man mad , to make a woman of him .
+
+Young budding virgin , fair and fresh and sweet ,
+Whither away , or where is thy abode ?
+Happy the parents of so fair a child ;
+Happier the man , whom favourable stars
+Allot thee for his lovely bed-fellow !
+
+Why , how now , Kate ! I hope thou art not mad :
+This is a man , old , wrinkled , faded , wither'd ,
+And not a maiden , as thou sayst he is .
+
+Pardon , old father , my mistaking eyes ,
+That have been so bedazzled with the sun
+That everything I look on seemeth green :
+Now I perceive thou art a reverend father ;
+Pardon , I pray thee , for my mad mistaking .
+
+Do , good old grandsire ; and withal make known
+Which way thou travellest : if along with us ,
+We shall be joyful of thy company .
+
+Fair sir , and you my merry mistress ,
+That with your strange encounter much amaz'd me ,
+My name is called Vincentio ; my dwelling , Pisa ;
+And bound I am to Padua , there to visit
+A son of mine , which long I have not seen .
+
+What is his name ?
+
+Lucentio , gentle sir .
+
+Happily met ; the happier for thy son .
+And now by law , as well as reverend age ,
+I may entitle thee my loving father :
+The sister to my wife , this gentlewoman ,
+Thy son by this hath married . Wonder not ,
+Nor be not griev'd : she is of good esteem ,
+Her dowry wealthy , and of worthy birth ;
+Beside , so qualified as may beseem
+The spouse of any noble gentleman .
+Let me embrace with old Vincentio ;
+And wander we to see thy honest son ,
+Who will of thy arrival be full joyous .
+
+But is this true ? or is it else your pleasure ,
+Like pleasant travellers , to break a jest
+Upon the company you overtake ?
+
+I do assure thee , father , so it is .
+
+Come , go along , and see the truth hereof ;
+For our first merriment hath made thee jealous .
+
+
+Well , Petruchio , this has put me in heart .
+Have to my widow ! and if she be froward ,
+Then hast thou taught Hortensio to be untoward .
+
+Softly and swiftly , sir , for the priest is ready .
+
+I fly , Biondello : but they may chance to need thee at home ; therefore leave us .
+
+Nay , faith , I'll see the church o' your back ; and then come back to my master as soon as I can .
+
+
+I marvel Cambio comes not all this while .
+
+
+Sir , here's the door , this is Lucentio's house :
+My father's bears more toward the marketplace ;
+Thither must I , and here I leave you , sir .
+
+You shall not choose but drink before you go .
+I think I shall command your welcome here ,
+And , by all likelihood , some cheer is toward .
+
+
+They're busy within ; you were best knock louder .
+
+
+What's he that knocks as he would beat down the gate ?
+
+Is Signior Lucentio within , sir ?
+
+He's within , sir , but not to be spoken withal .
+
+What if a man bring him a hundred pound or two , to make merry withal ?
+
+Keep your hundred pounds to yourself : he shall need none so long as I live .
+
+Nay , I told you your son was well beloved in Padua . Do you hear , sir ? To leave frivolous circumstances , I pray you , tell Signior Lucentio that his father is come from Pisa , and is here at the door to speak with him .
+
+Thou liest : his father is come from Padua , and here looking out at the window .
+
+Art thou his father ?
+
+Ay , sir ; so his mother says , if I may believe her .
+
+Why , how now , gentleman ! why , this is flat knavery , to take upon you another man's name .
+
+Lay hands on the villain : I believe , a' means to cozen somebody in this city under my countenance .
+
+
+I have seen them in the church together : God send 'em good shipping ! But who is here ? mine old master , Vincentio ! now we are undone and brought to nothing .
+
+Come hither , crack-hemp .
+
+I hope I may choose , sir .
+
+Come hither , you rogue . What , have you forgot me ?
+
+Forgot you ! no , sir : I could not forget you , for I never saw you before in all my life .
+
+What , you notorious villain ! didst thou never see thy master's father , Vincentio ?
+
+What , my old , worshipful old master ? yes , marry , sir : see where he looks out of the window .
+
+Is't so , indeed ?
+
+
+Help , help , help ! here's a madman will murder me .
+
+
+Help , son ! help , Signior Baptista !
+
+
+Prithee , Kate , let's stand aside , and see the end of this controversy .
+
+Sir , what are you that offer to beat my servant ?
+
+What am I , sir ! nay , what are you , sir ? O immortal gods ! O fine villain ! A silken doublet ! a velvet hose ! a scarlet cloak ! and a copatain hat ! O , I am undone ! I am undone ! while I play the good husband at home , my son and my servant spend all at the university .
+
+How now ! what's the matter ?
+
+What , is the man lunatic ?
+
+Sir , you seem a sober ancient gentleman by your habit , but your words show you a madman . Why , sir , what 'cerns it you if I wear pearl and gold ? I thank my good father , I am able to maintain it .
+
+Thy father ! O villain ! he is a sailmaker in Bergamo .
+
+You mistake , sir , you mistake , sir . Pray , what do you think is his name ?
+
+His name ! as if I knew not his name : I have brought him up ever since he was three years old , and his name is Tranio .
+
+Away , away , mad ass ! his name is Lucentio ; and he is mine only son , and heir to the lands of me , Signior Vincentio .
+
+Lucentio ! O ! he hath murdered his master . Lay hold on him , I charge you in the duke's name . O my son , my son ! tell me , thou villain , where is my son Lucentio ?
+
+Call forth an officer .
+
+Carry this mad knave to the gaol . Father Baptista , I charge you see that he be forthcoming .
+
+Carry me to the gaol !
+
+Stay , officer : he shall not go to prison .
+
+Talk not , Signior Gremio : I say he shall go to prison .
+
+Take heed , Signior Baptista , lest you be cony-catched in this business : I dare swear this is the right Vincentio .
+
+Swear , if thou darest .
+
+Nay , I dare not swear it .
+
+Then thou wert best say , that I am not Lucentio .
+
+Yes , I know thee to be Signior Lucentio .
+
+Away with the dotard ! to the gaol with him !
+
+Thus strangers may be haled and abused : O monstrous villain !
+
+
+O ! we are spoiled ; and yonder he is : deny him , forswear him , or else we are all undone .
+
+Pardon , sweet father .
+
+Lives my sweetest son ?
+
+
+Pardon , dear father .
+
+How hast thou offended ?
+Where is Lucentio ?
+
+Here's Lucentio ,
+Right son to the right Vincentio ;
+That have by marriage made thy daughter mine ,
+While counterfeit supposes blear'd thine eyne .
+
+Here's packing , with a witness , to deceive us all !
+
+Where is that damned villain Tranio ,
+That fac'd and brav'd me in this matter so ?
+
+Why , tell me , is not this my Cambio ?
+
+Cambio is chang'd into Lucentio .
+
+Love wrought these miracles . Bianca's love
+Made me exchange my state with Tranio ,
+While he did bear my countenance in the town ;
+And happily I have arriv'd at last
+Unto the wished haven of my bliss .
+What Tranio did , myself enforc'd him to ;
+Then pardon him , sweet father , for my sake .
+
+I'll slit the villain's nose , that would have sent me to the gaol .
+
+But do you hear , sir ?
+Have you married my daughter without asking my good will ?
+
+Fear not , Baptista ; we will content you , go to : but I will in , to be revenged for this villany .
+
+
+And I , to sound the depth of this knavery .
+
+
+Look not pale , Bianca ; thy father will not frown .
+
+
+My cake is dough ; but I'll in among the rest ,
+Out of hope of all , but my share of the feast .
+
+Husband , let's follow , to see the end of this ado .
+
+First kiss me , Kate , and we will .
+
+What ! in the midst of the street ?
+
+What ! art thou ashamed of me ?
+
+No , sir , God forbid ; but ashamed to kiss .
+
+Why , then let's home again . Come , sirrah , let's away .
+
+Nay , I will give thee a kiss : now pray thee , love , stay .
+
+Is not this well ? Come , my sweet Kate :
+Better once than never , for never too late .
+
+
+At last , though long , our jarring notes agree :
+And time it is , when raging war is done ,
+To smile at 'scapes and perils overblown .
+My fair Bianca , bid my father welcome ,
+While I with self-same kindness welcome thine .
+Brother Petruchio , sister Katharina ,
+And thou , Hortensio , with thy loving widow ,
+Feast with the best , and welcome to my house :
+My banquet is to close our stomachs up ,
+After our great good cheer . Pray you , sit down ;
+For now we sit to chat as well as eat .
+
+
+Nothing but sit and sit , and eat and eat !
+
+Padua affords this kindness , son Petruchio .
+
+Padua affords nothing but what is kind .
+
+For both our sakes I would that word were true .
+
+Now , for my life , Hortensio fears his widow .
+
+Then never trust me , if I be afeard .
+
+You are very sensible , and yet you miss my sense :
+I mean , Hortensio is afeard of you .
+
+He that is giddy thinks the world turns round .
+
+Roundly replied .
+
+Mistress , how mean you that ?
+
+Thus I conceive by him .
+
+Conceives by me ! How likes Hortensio that ?
+
+My widow says , thus she conceives her tale .
+
+Very well mended . Kiss him for that , good widow .
+
+'He that is giddy thinks the world turns round :'
+I pray you , tell me what you meant by that .
+
+Your husband , being troubled with a shrew ,
+Measures my husband's sorrow by his woe :
+And now you know my meaning .
+
+A very mean meaning .
+
+Right , I mean you .
+
+And I am mean , indeed , respecting you .
+
+To her , Kate !
+
+To her , widow !
+
+A hundred marks , my Kate does put her down .
+
+That's my office .
+
+Spoke like an officer : ha' to thee , lad .
+
+
+How likes Gremio these quick-witted folks ?
+
+Believe me , sir , they butt together well .
+
+Head and butt ! a hasty-witted body
+Would say your head and butt were head and horn .
+
+Ay , mistress bride , hath that awaken'd you ?
+
+Ay , but not frighted me ; therefore I'll sleep again .
+
+Nay , that you shall not ; since you have begun ,
+Have at you for a bitter jest or two .
+
+Am I your bird ? I mean to shift my bush ;
+And then pursue me as you draw your bow .
+You are welcome all .
+
+
+She hath prevented me . Here , Signior Tranio ;
+This bird you aim'd at , though you hit her not :
+Therefore a health to all that shot and miss'd .
+
+O sir ! Lucentio slipp'd me , like his greyhound ,
+Which runs himself , and catches for his master .
+
+A good swift simile , but something currish .
+
+'Tis well , sir , that you hunted for yourself :
+'Tis thought your deer does hold you at a bay .
+
+O ho , Petruchio ! Tranio hits you now .
+
+I thank thee for that gird , good Tranio .
+
+Confess , confess , hath he not hit you here ?
+
+A' has a little gall'd me , I confess ;
+And , as the jest did glance away from me ,
+'Tis ten to one it maim'd you two outright .
+
+Now , in good sadness , son Petruchio ,
+I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all .
+
+Well , I say no : and therefore , for assurance ,
+Let's each one send unto his wife ;
+And he whose wife is most obedient
+To come at first when he doth send for her ,
+Shall win the wager which we will propose .
+
+Content . What is the wager ?
+
+Twenty crowns .
+
+Twenty crowns !
+I'll venture so much of my hawk or hound ,
+But twenty times so much upon my wife .
+
+A hundred then .
+
+Content .
+
+A match ! 'tis done .
+
+Who shall begin ?
+
+That will I .
+Go , Biondello , bid your mistress come to me .
+
+I go .
+
+
+Son , I will be your half , Bianca comes .
+
+I'll have no halves ; I'll bear it all myself .
+
+How now ! what news ?
+
+Sir , my mistress sends you word
+That she is busy and she cannot come .
+
+How ! she is busy , and she cannot come !
+Is that an answer ?
+
+Ay , and a kind one too :
+Pray God , sir , your wife send you not a worse .
+
+I hope , better .
+
+Sirrah Biondello , go and entreat my wife
+To come to me forthwith .
+
+
+O ho ! entreat her !
+Nay , then she must needs come .
+
+I am afraid , sir ,
+Do what you can , yours will not be entreated .
+
+Now , where's my wife ?
+
+She says you have some goodly jest in hand :
+She will not come : she bids you come to her .
+
+Worse and worse ; she will not come ! O vile ,
+Intolerable , not to be endur'd !
+Sirrah Grumio , go to your mistress ; say ,
+I command her come to me .
+
+
+I know her answer .
+
+What ?
+
+She will not .
+
+The fouler fortune mine , and there an end .
+
+
+Now , by my holidame , here comes Katharina !
+
+What is your will , sir , that you send for me ?
+
+Where is your sister , and Hortensio's wife ?
+
+They sit conferring by the parlour fire .
+
+Go , fetch them hither : if they deny to come ,
+Swinge me them soundly forth unto their husbands .
+Away , I say , and bring them hither straight .
+
+
+Here is a wonder , if you talk of a wonder .
+
+And so it is . I wonder what it bodes .
+
+Marry , peace it bodes , and love , and quiet life ,
+An awful rule and right supremacy ;
+And , to be short , what not that's sweet and happy .
+
+Now fair befall thee , good Petruchio !
+The wager thou hast won ; and I will add
+Unto their losses twenty thousand crowns ;
+Another dowry to another daughter ,
+For she is chang'd , as she had never been .
+
+Nay , I will win my wager better yet ,
+And show more sign of her obedience ,
+Her new-built virtue and obedience .
+See where she comes , and brings your froward wives
+As prisoners to her womanly persuasion .
+
+
+Katharine , that cap of yours becomes you not :
+Off with that bauble , throw it under foot .
+
+Lord ! let me never have a cause to sigh ,
+Till I be brought to such a silly pass !
+
+Fie ! what a foolish duty call you this ?
+
+I would your duty were as foolish too :
+The wisdom of your duty , fair Bianca ,
+Hath cost me an hundred crowns since supper-time .
+
+The more fool you for laying on my duty .
+
+Katharine , I charge thee , tell these headstrong women
+What duty they do owe their lords and husbands .
+
+Come , come , you're mocking : we will have no telling .
+
+Come on , I say ; and first begin with her .
+
+She shall not .
+
+I say she shall : and first begin with her .
+
+Fie , fie ! unknit that threatening unkind brow ,
+And dart not scornful glances from those eyes ,
+To wound thy lord , thy king , thy governor :
+It blots thy beauty as frosts do bite the meads ,
+Confounds thy fame as whirlwinds shake fair buds ,
+And in no sense is meet or amiable .
+A woman mov'd is like a fountain troubled ,
+Muddy , ill-seeming , thick , bereft of beauty ;
+And while it is so , none so dry or thirsty
+Will deign to sip or touch one drop of it .
+Thy husband is thy lord , thy life , thy keeper ,
+Thy head , thy sovereign ; one that cares for thee ,
+And for thy maintenance commits his body
+To painful labour both by sea and land ,
+To watch the night in storms , the day in cold ,
+Whilst thou liest warm at home , secure and safe ;
+And craves no other tribute at thy hands
+But love , fair looks , and true obedience ;
+Too little payment for so great a debt .
+Such duty as the subject owes the prince ,
+Even such a woman oweth to her husband ;
+And when she's froward , peevish , sullen , sour ,
+And not obedient to his honest will ,
+What is she but a foul contending rebel ,
+And graceless traitor to her loving lord ?
+I am asham'd that women are so simple
+To offer war where they should kneel for peace ,
+Or seek for rule , supremacy , and sway ,
+When they are bound to serve , love , and obey .
+Why are our bodies soft , and weak , and smooth ,
+Unapt to toil and trouble in the world ,
+But that our soft conditions and our hearts
+Should well agree with our external parts ?
+Come , come , you froward and unable worms !
+My mind hath been as big as one of yours ,
+My heart as great , my reason haply more ,
+To bandy word for word and frown for frown ;
+But now I see our lances are but straws ,
+Our strength as weak , our weakness past compare ,
+That seeming to be most which we indeed least are .
+Then vail your stomachs , for it is no boot ,
+And place your hands below your husband's foot :
+In token of which duty , if he please ,
+My hand is ready ; may it do him ease .
+
+Why , there's a wench ! Come on , and kiss me , Kate .
+
+Well , go thy ways , old lad , for thou shalt ha't .
+
+'Tis a good hearing when children are toward .
+
+But a harsh hearing when women are froward .
+
+Come , Kate , we'll to bed .
+We three are married , but you two are sped .
+'Twas I won the wager ,
+
+though you hit the white ;
+And , being a winner , God give you good night !
+
+
+Now , go thy ways ; thou hast tam'd a curst shrew .
+
+'Tis a wonder , by your leave , she will be tam'd so .
+
+THE TEMPEST
+
+Boatswain !
+
+Here , master : what cheer ?
+
+Good , speak to the mariners : fall to't yarely , or we run ourselves aground : bestir , bestir .
+
+Heigh , my hearts ! cheerly , cheerly , my hearts ! yare , yare ! Take in the topsail . Tend to the master's whistle .Blow , till thou burst thy wind , if room enough !
+
+
+Good boatswain , have care . Where's the master ? Play the men .
+
+I pray now , keep below .
+
+Where is the master , boson ?
+
+Do you not hear him ? You mar our labour : keep your cabins : you do assist the storm .
+
+Nay , good , be patient .
+
+When the sea is . Hence ! What cares these roarers for the name of king ? To cabin : silence ! trouble us not .
+
+Good , yet remember whom thou hast aboard .
+
+None that I more love than myself . You are a counsellor : if you can command these elements to silence , and work the peace of the present , we will not hand a rope more ; use your authority : if you cannot , give thanks you have lived so long , and make yourself ready in your cabin for the mischance of the hour , if it so hap .Cheerly , good hearts !Out of our way , I say .
+
+
+I have great comfort from this fellow : methinks he hath no drowning mark upon him ; his complexion is perfect gallows . Stand fast , good Fate , to his hanging ! make the rope of his destiny our cable , for our own doth little advantage ! If he be not born to be hanged , our case is miserable .
+
+Down with the topmast ! yare ! lower , lower ! Bring her to try with main-course .
+
+A plague upon this howling ! they are louder than the weather , or our office .
+
+Yet again ? what do you here ? Shall we give o'er , and drown ? Have you a mind to sink ?
+
+A pox o' your throat , you bawling , blasphemous , incharitable dog !
+
+Work you , then .
+
+Hang , cur , hang ! you whoreson , insolent noisemaker , we are less afraid to be drowned than thou art .
+
+I'll warrant him for drowning ; though the ship were no stronger than a nutshell , and as leaky as an unstanched wench .
+
+Lay her a-hold , a-hold ! Set her two courses ; off to sea again ; lay her off .
+
+
+All lost ! to prayers , to prayers ! all lost !
+
+
+What , must our mouths be cold ?
+
+The king and prince at prayers ! let us assist them ,
+For our case is as theirs .
+
+I am out of patience .
+
+We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards .
+This wide-chapp'd rascal ,would thou might'st lie drowning ,
+The washing of ten tides !
+
+He'll be hang'd yet ,
+Though every drop of water swear against it ,
+And gape at wid'st to glut him .
+
+'We split , we split !' 'Farewell , my wife and children !'
+'Farewell , brother !' 'We split , we split , we split !' ]
+
+Let's all sink wi' the king .
+
+
+Let's take leave of him .
+
+
+Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground ; long heath , brown furze , any thing . The wills above be done ! but I would fain die a dry death .
+
+
+If by your art , my dearest father , you have
+Put the wild waters in this roar , allay them .
+The sky , it seems , would pour down stinking pitch ,
+But that the sea , mounting to th' welkin's cheek ,
+Dashes the fire out . O ! I have suffer'd
+With those that I saw suffer : a brave vessel ,
+Who had , no doubt , some noble creatures in her ,
+Dash'd all to pieces . O ! the cry did knock
+Against my very heart . Poor souls , they perish'd .
+Had I been any god of power , I would
+Have sunk the sea within the earth , or e'er
+It should the good ship so have swallow'd and
+The fraughting souls within her .
+
+Be collected :
+No more amazement . Tell your piteous heart
+There's no harm done .
+
+O , woe the day !
+
+No harm .
+I have done nothing but in care of thee ,
+Of thee , my dear one ! thee , my daughter !who
+Art ignorant of what thou art , nought knowing
+Of whence I am : nor that I am more better
+Than Prospero , master of a full poor cell ,
+And thy no greater father .
+
+More to know
+Did never meddle with my thoughts .
+
+'Tis time
+I should inform thee further . Lend thy hand ,
+And pluck my magic garment from me .So :
+
+Lie there , my art .Wipe thou thine eyes ; have comfort .
+The direful spectacle of the wrack , which touch'd
+The very virtue of compassion in thee ,
+I have with such provision in mine art
+So safely order'd , that there is no soul
+No , not so much perdition as an hair ,
+Betid to any creature in the vessel
+Which thou heard'st cry , which thou saw'st sink . Sit down ;
+For thou must now know further .
+
+You have often
+Begun to tell me what I am , but stopp'd ,
+And left me to a bootless inquisition ,
+Concluding , 'Stay ; not yet .'
+
+The hour's now come ,
+The very minute bids thee ope thine ear ;
+Obey and be attentive . Canst thou remember
+A time before we came unto this cell ?
+I do not think thou canst , for then thou wast not
+Out three years old .
+
+Certainly , sir , I can .
+
+By what ? by any other house or person ?
+Of anything the image tell me , that
+Hath kept with thy remembrance .
+
+'Tis far off ;
+And rather like a dream than an assurance
+That my remembrance warrants . Had I not
+Four or five women once that tended me ?
+
+Thou hadst , and more , Miranda . But how is it
+That this lives in thy mind ? What seest thou else
+In the dark backward and abysm of time ?
+If thou remember'st aught ere thou cam'st here ,
+How thou cam'st here , thou may'st .
+
+But that I do not .
+
+Twelve year since , Miranda , twelve year since ,
+Thy father was the Duke of Milan and
+A prince of power .
+
+Sir , are not you my father ?
+
+Thy mother was a piece of virtue , and
+She said thou wast my daughter ; and thy father
+Was Duke of Milan , and his only heir
+A princess ,no worse issued .
+
+O , the heavens !
+What foul play had we that we came from thence ?
+Or blessed was't we did ?
+
+Both , both , my girl :
+By foul play , as thou say'st , were we heav'd thence ;
+But blessedly holp hither .
+
+O ! my heart bleeds
+To think o' the teen that I have turn'd you to ,
+Which is from my remembrance . Please you , further .
+
+My brother and thy uncle , call'd Antonio ,
+I pray thee , mark me ,that a brother should
+Be so perfidious !he whom next thyself ,
+Of all the world I lov'd , and to him put
+The manage of my state ; as at that time ,
+Through all the signiories it was the first ,
+And Prospero the prime duke ; being so reputed
+In dignity , and for the liberal arts ,
+Without a parallel : those being all my study ,
+The government I cast upon my brother ,
+And to my state grew stranger , being transported
+And rapt in secret studies . Thy false uncle
+Dost thou attend me ?
+
+Sir , most heedfully .
+
+Being once perfected how to grant suits ,
+How to deny them , who t'advance , and who
+To trash for over-topping ; new created
+The creatures that were mine , I say , or chang'd 'em ,
+Or else new form'd 'em : having both the key
+Of officer and office , set all hearts i' the state
+To what tune pleas'd his ear ; that now he was
+The ivy which had hid my princely trunk ,
+And suck'd my verdure out on't .Thou attend'st not .
+
+O , good sir ! I do .
+
+I pray thee , mark me .
+I , thus neglecting worldly ends , all dedicated
+To closeness and the bettering of my mind
+With that , which , but by being so retir'd ,
+O'erpriz'd all popular rate , in my false brother
+Awak'd an evil nature ; and my trust ,
+Like a good parent , did beget of him
+A falsehood in its contrary as great
+As my trust was ; which had , indeed no limit ,
+A confidence sans bound . He being thus lorded ,
+Not only with what my revenue yielded ,
+But what my power might else exact ,like one ,
+Who having , into truth , by telling of it ,
+Made such a sinner of his memory ,
+To credit his own lie ,he did believe
+He was indeed the duke ; out o' the substitution ,
+And executing th' outward face of royalty ,
+With all prerogative :Hence his ambition growing ,
+Dost thou hear ?
+
+Your tale , sir , would cure deafness .
+
+To have no screen between this part he play'd
+And him he play'd it for , he needs will be
+Absolute Milan . Me , poor man ,my library
+Was dukedom large enough : of temporal royalties
+He thinks me now incapable ; confederates ,
+So dry he was for sway ,wi' the king of Naples
+To give him annual tribute , do him homage ;
+Subject his coronet to his crown , and bend
+The dukedom , yet unbow'd ,alas , poor Milan !
+To most ignoble stooping .
+
+O the heavens !
+
+Mark his condition and the event ; then tell me
+If this might be a brother .
+
+I should sin
+To think but nobly of my grandmother :
+Good wombs have borne bad sons .
+
+Now the condition .
+This King of Naples , being an enemy
+To me inveterate , hearkens my brother's suit ;
+Which was , that he , in lieu o' the premises
+Of homage and I know not how much tribute ,
+Should presently extirpate me and mine
+Out of the dukedom , and confer fair Milan ,
+With all the honours on my brother : whereon ,
+A treacherous army levied , one midnight
+Fated to the purpose did Antonio open
+The gates of Milan ; and , i' the dead of darkness ,
+The ministers for the purpose hurried thence
+Me and thy crying self .
+
+Alack , for pity !
+I , not rememb'ring how I cried out then ,
+Will cry it o'er again : it is a hint ,
+That wrings mine eyes to 't .
+
+Hear a little further ,
+And then I'll bring thee to the present business
+Which now's upon us ; without the which this story
+Were most impertinent .
+
+Wherefore did they not
+That hour destroy us ?
+
+Well demanded , wench :
+My tale provokes that question . Dear , they durst not ,
+So dear the love my people bore me , nor set
+A mark so bloody on the business ; but
+With colours fairer painted their foul ends .
+In few , they hurried us aboard a bark ,
+Bore us some leagues to sea ; where they prepar'd
+A rotten carcass of a boat , not rigg'd ,
+Nor tackle , sail , nor mast ; the very rats
+Instinctively have quit it : there they hoist us ,
+To cry to the sea that roar'd to us ; to sigh
+To the winds whose pity , sighing back again ,
+Did us but loving wrong .
+
+Alack ! what trouble
+Was I then to you !
+
+O , a cherubin
+Thou wast , that did preserve me ! Thou didst smile ,
+Infused with a fortitude from heaven ,
+When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt ,
+Under my burden groan'd ; which rais'd in me
+An undergoing stomach , to bear up
+Against what should ensue .
+
+How came we ashore ?
+
+By Providence divine .
+Some food we had and some fresh water that
+A noble Neapolitan , Gonzalo ,
+Out of his charity ,who being then appointed
+Master of this design ,did give us ; with
+Rich garments , linens , stuffs , and necessaries ,
+Which since have steaded much ; so , of his gentleness ,
+Knowing I lov'd my books , he furnish'd me ,
+From mine own library with volumes that
+I prize above my dukedom .
+
+Would I might
+But ever see that man !
+
+Now I arise :
+
+Sit still , and hear the last of our sea-sorrow .
+Here in this island we arriv'd ; and here
+Have I , thy schoolmaster , made thee more profit
+Than other princes can , that have more time
+For vainer hours and tutors not so careful .
+
+Heavens thank you for't ! And now , I pray you , sir ,
+For still 'tis beating in my mind ,your reason
+For raising this sea-storm ?
+
+Know thus far forth .
+By accident most strange , bountiful Fortune ,
+Now my dear lady , hath mine enemies
+Brought to this shore ; and by my prescience
+I find my zenith doth depend upon
+A most auspicious star , whose influence
+If now I court not but omit , my fortunes
+Will ever after droop . Here cease more questions ;
+Thou art inclin'd to sleep ; 'tis a good dulness ,
+And give it way ;I know thou canst not choose .
+
+Come away , servant , come ! I'm ready now .
+Approach , my Ariel ; come !
+
+
+All hail , great master ! grave sir , hail ! I come
+To answer thy best pleasure ; be't to fly ,
+To swim , to dive into the fire , to ride
+On the curl'd clouds : to thy strong bidding task
+Ariel and all his quality .
+
+Hast thou , spirit ,
+Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee ?
+
+To every article .
+I boarded the king's ship ; now on the beak ,
+Now in the waist , the deck , in every cabin ,
+I flam'd amazement : sometime I'd divide
+And burn in many places ; on the topmast ,
+The yards , and boresprit , would I flame distinctly ,
+Then meet , and join : Jove's lightnings , the precursors
+O' the dreadful thunder-claps , more momentary
+And sight-outrunning were not : the fire and cracks
+Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune
+Seem to besiege and make his bold waves tremble ,
+Yea , his dread trident shake .
+
+My brave spirit !
+Who was so firm , so constant , that this coil
+Would not infect his reason ?
+
+Not a soul
+But felt a fever of the mad and play'd
+Some tricks of desperation . All but mariners ,
+Plunged in the foaming brine and quit the vessel ,
+Then all a-fire with me : the king's son , Ferdinand ,
+With hair up-staring ,then like reeds , not hair ,
+Was the first man that leap'd ; cried , 'Hell is empty ,
+And all the devils are here .'
+
+Why , that's my spirit !
+But was not this nigh shore ?
+
+Close by , my master .
+
+But are they , Ariel , safe ?
+
+Not a hair perish'd ;
+On their sustaining garments not a blemish ,
+But fresher than before : and , as thou bad'st me ,
+In troops I have dispers'd them 'bout the isle .
+The king's son have I landed by himself ;
+Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs
+In an odd angle of the isle and sitting ,
+His arms in this sad knot .
+
+Of the king's ship
+The mariners , say how thou hast dispos'd ,
+And all the rest o' the fleet .
+
+Safely in harbour
+Is the king's ship ; in the deep nook , where once
+Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew
+From the still-vex'd Bermoothes ; there she's hid :
+The mariners all under hatches stow'd ;
+Who , with a charm join'd to their suffer'd labour ,
+I have left asleep : and for the rest o' the fleet
+Which I dispers'd , they all have met again ,
+And are upon the Mediterranean flote ,
+Bound sadly home for Naples ,
+Supposing that they saw the king's ship wrack'd ,
+And his great person perish .
+
+Ariel , thy charge
+Exactly is perform'd : but there's more work :
+What is the time o' th' day ?
+
+Past the mid season .
+
+At least two glasses . The time 'twixt six and now
+Must by us both be spent most preciously .
+
+Is there more toil ? Since thou dost give me pains ,
+Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd
+Which is not yet perform'd me .
+
+How now ! moody ?
+What is't thou canst demand ?
+
+My liberty .
+
+Before the time be out ? no more !
+
+I prithee
+Remember , I have done thee worthy service ;
+Told thee no lies , made no mistakings , serv'd
+Without or grudge or grumblings : thou didst promise
+To bate me a full year .
+
+Dost thou forget
+From what a torment I did free thee ?
+
+No .
+
+Thou dost ; and think'st it much to tread the ooze
+Of the salt deep ,
+To run upon the sharp wind of the north ,
+To do me business in the veins o' th' earth
+When it is bak'd with frost .
+
+I do not , sir .
+
+Thou liest , malignant thing ! Hast thou forgot
+The foul witch Sycorax , who with age and envy
+Was grown into a hoop ? hast thou forgot her ?
+
+No , sir .
+
+Thou hast . Where was she born ? speak ; tell me .
+
+Sir , in Argier .
+
+O ! was she so ? I must ,
+Once in a month , recount what thou hast been ,
+Which thou forget'st . This damn'd witch , Sycorax ,
+For mischiefs manifold and sorceries terrible
+To enter human hearing , from Argier ,
+Thou know'st , was banish'd : for one thing she did
+They would not take her life . Is not this true ?
+
+Ay , sir .
+
+This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought with child
+And here was left by the sailors . Thou , my slave ,
+As thou report'st thyself , wast then her servant :
+And , for thou wast a spirit too delicate
+To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands ,
+Refusing her grand hests , she did confine thee ,
+By help of her more potent ministers ,
+And in her most unmitigable rage ,
+Into a cloven pine ; within which rift
+Imprison'd , thou didst painfully remain
+A dozen years ; within which space she died
+And left thee there , where thou didst vent thy groans
+As fast as mill-wheels strike . Then was this island ,
+Save for the son that she did litter here ,
+A freckled whelp hag-born ,not honour'd with
+A human shape .
+
+Yes ; Caliban her son .
+
+Dull thing , I say so ; he that Caliban ,
+Whom now I keep in service . Thou best know'st
+What torment I did find thee in ; thy groans
+Did make wolves howl and penetrate the breasts
+Of ever-angry bears : it was a torment
+To lay upon the damn'd , which Sycorax
+Could not again undo ; it was mine art ,
+When I arriv'd and heard thee , that made gape
+The pine , and let thee out .
+
+I thank thee , master .
+
+If thou more murmur'st , I will rend an oak
+And peg thee in his knotty entrails till
+Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters .
+
+Pardon , master ;
+I will be correspondent to command ,
+And do my spiriting gently .
+
+Do so ; and after two days
+I will discharge thee .
+
+That's my noble master !
+What shall I do ? say what ? what shall I do ?
+
+Go make thyself like a nymph of the sea : be subject
+To no sight but thine and mine ; invisible
+To every eyeball else . Go , take this shape ,
+And hither come in't : go , hence with diligence !
+
+Awake , dear heart , awake ! thou hast slept well ;
+Awake !
+
+The strangeness of your story put
+Heaviness in me .
+
+Shake it off . Come on ;
+We'll visit Caliban my slave , who never
+Yields us kind answer .
+
+'Tis a villain , sir ,
+I do not love to look on .
+
+But , as 'tis ,
+We cannot miss him : he does make our fire ,
+Fetch in our wood ; and serves in offices
+That profit us .What ho ! slave ! Caliban !
+Thou earth , thou ! speak .
+
+There's wood enough within .
+
+Come forth , I say ; there's other business for thee :
+Come , thou tortoise ! when ?
+
+
+Fine apparition ! My quaint Ariel ,
+
+Hark in thine ear .
+
+My lord , it shall be done .
+
+
+Thou poisonous slave , got by the devil himself
+Upon thy wicked dam , come forth !
+
+
+As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd
+With raven's feather from unwholesome fen
+Drop on you both ! a south-west blow on ye ,
+And blister you all o'er !
+
+For this , be sure , to-night thou shalt have cramps ,
+Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up ; urchins
+Shall forth at vast of night , that they may work
+All exercise on thee : thou shalt be pinch'd
+As thick as honeycomb , each pinch more stinging
+Than bees that made them .
+
+I must eat my dinner .
+This island's mine , by Sycorax my mother ,
+Which thou tak'st from me . When thou camest first ,
+Thou strok'dst me , and mad'st much of me ; wouldst give me
+Water with berries in't ; and teach me how
+To name the bigger light , and how the less ,
+That burn by day and night : and then I lov'd thee
+And show'd thee all the qualities o' th' isle ,
+The fresh springs , brine-pits , barren place , and fertile .
+Cursed be I that did so !All the charms
+Of Sycorax , toads , beetles , bats , light on you !
+For I am all the subjects that you have ,
+Which first was mine own king ; and here you sty me
+In this hard rock , whiles you do keep from me
+The rest o' th' island .
+
+Thou most lying slave ,
+Whom stripes may move , not kindness ! I have us'd thee ,
+Filth as thou art , with human care ; and lodg'd thee
+In mine own cell , till thou didst seek to violate
+The honour of my child .
+
+Oh ho ! Oh ho !would it had been done !
+Thou didst prevent me ; I had peopled else
+This isle with Calibans .
+
+Abhorred slave ,
+Which any print of goodness will not take ,
+Being capable of all ill ! I pitied thee ,
+Took pains to make thee speak , taught thee each hour
+One thing or other : when thou didst not , savage ,
+Know thine own meaning , but wouldst gabble like
+A thing most brutish , I endow'd thy purposes
+With words that made them known : but thy vile race ,
+Though thou didst learn , had that in't which good natures
+Could not abide to be with ; therefore wast thou
+Deservedly confin'd into this rock ,
+Who hadst deserv'd more than a prison .
+
+You taught me language : and my profit on't
+Is , I know how to curse : the red plague rid you ,
+For learning me your language !
+
+Hag-seed , hence !
+Fetch us in fuel ; and be quick , thou'rt best ,
+To answer other business . Shrug'st thou , malice ?
+If thou neglect'st , or dost unwillingly
+What I command , I'll rack thee with old cramps ,
+Fill all thy bones with aches ; make thee roar ,
+That beasts shall tremble at thy din .
+
+No , pray thee !
+
+
+I must obey : his art is of such power ,
+It would control my dam's god , Setebos ,
+And make a vassal of him .
+
+So , slave ; hence !
+
+Come unto these yellow sands ,
+And then take hands :
+Curtsied when you have , and kiss'd ,
+The wild waves whist ,
+Foot it featly here and there ;
+And , sweet sprites , the burden bear .
+Hark , hark !
+
+The watch-dogs bark :
+
+Hark , hark ! I hear
+The strain of strutting Chanticleer
+
+Where should this music be ? i' th' air , or th' earth ?
+It sounds no more ;and sure , it waits upon
+Some god o' th' island . Sitting on a bank ,
+Weeping again the king my father's wrack ,
+This music crept by me upon the waters ,
+Allaying both their fury , and my passion ,
+With its sweet air : thence I have follow'd it ,
+Or it hath drawn me rather ,but 'tis gone .
+No , it begins again .
+
+Full fathom five thy father lies ;
+Of his bones are coral made
+Those are pearls that were his eyes :
+Nothing of him that doth fade ,
+But doth suffer a sea-change
+Into something rich and strange .
+Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell :
+
+Hark ! now I hear them ,ding-dong , bell .
+
+
+The ditty does remember my drown'd father .
+This is no mortal business , nor no sound
+That the earth owes :I hear it now above me .
+
+The fringed curtains of thine eye advance ,
+And say what thou seest yond .
+
+What is't ? a spirit ?
+Lord , how it looks about ! Believe me , sir ,
+It carries a brave form :but 'tis a spirit .
+
+No , wench ; it eats and sleeps , and hath such senses
+As we have , such ; this gallant which thou see'st ,
+Was in the wrack ; and , but he's something stain'd
+With grief ,that's beauty's canker ,thou might'st call him
+A goodly person : he hath lost his fellows
+And strays about to find 'em .
+
+I might call him
+A thing divine ; for nothing natural
+I ever saw so noble .
+
+It goes on , I see ,
+As my soul prompts it .Spirit , fine spirit ! I'll free thee
+Within two days for this .
+
+Most sure , the goddess
+On whom these airs attend !Vouchsafe , my prayer
+May know if you remain upon this island ;
+And that you will some good instruction give
+How I may bear me here : my prime request ,
+Which I do last pronounce , is ,O you wonder !
+If you be maid or no ?
+
+No wonder , sir ;
+But certainly a maid .
+
+My language ! heavens !
+I am the best of them that speak this speech ,
+Were I but where 'tis spoken .
+
+How ! the best ?
+What wert thou , if the King of Naples heard thee ?
+
+A single thing , as I am now , that wonders
+To hear thee speak of Naples . He does hear me ;
+And , that he does , I weep : myself am Naples ,
+Who with mine eyes ,ne'er since at ebb ,beheld
+The king , my father wrack'd .
+
+Alack , for mercy !
+
+Yes , faith , and all his lords ; the Duke of Milan ,
+And his brave son being twain .
+
+The Duke of Milan ,
+And his more braver daughter could control thee ,
+If now 'twere fit to do't .At the first sight
+
+They have changed eyes :delicate Ariel ,
+I'll set thee free for this !
+
+A word , good sir ;
+I fear you have done yourself some wrong : a word .
+
+Why speaks my father so ungently ? This
+Is the third man that e'er I saw ; the first
+That e'er I sigh'd for : pity move my father
+To be inclin'd my way !
+
+O ! if a virgin ,
+And your affection not gone forth , I'll make you
+The Queen of Naples .
+
+Soft , sir : one word more
+
+
+They are both in either's powers : but this swift business
+I must uneasy make , lest too light winning
+Make the prize light .
+
+One word more : I charge thee
+That thou attend me . Thou dost here usurp
+The name thou ow'st not ; and hast put thyself
+Upon this island as a spy , to win it
+From me , the lord on't .
+
+No , as I am a man .
+
+There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple :
+If the ill spirit have so fair a house ,
+Good things will strive to dwell with't .
+
+Follow me .
+
+
+Come ;
+I'll manacle thy neck and feet together :
+Sea-water shalt thou drink ; thy food shall be
+The fresh-brook muscles , wither'd roots and husks
+Wherein the acorn cradled . Follow .
+
+No ;
+I will resist such entertainment till
+Mine enemy has more power .
+
+
+O dear father !
+Make not too rash a trial of him , for
+He's gentle , and not fearful .
+
+What ! I say ,
+My foot my tutor ?Put thy sword up , traitor ;
+Who mak'st a show , but dar'st not strike , thy conscience
+Is so possess'd with guilt : come from thy ward ,
+For I can here disarm thee with this stick
+And make thy weapon drop .
+
+Beseech you , father !
+
+Hence ! hang not on my garments .
+
+Sir , have pity :
+I'll be his surety .
+
+Silence ! one word more
+Shall make me chide thee , if not hate thee . What !
+An advocate for an impostor ? hush !
+Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he ,
+Having seen but him and Caliban : foolish wench !
+To the most of men this is a Caliban
+And they to him are angels .
+
+My affections
+Are then most humble ; I have no ambition
+To see a goodlier man .
+
+Come on ; obey :
+Thy nerves are in their infancy again ,
+And have no vigour in them .
+
+So they are :
+My spirits , as in a dream , are all bound up .
+My father's loss , the weakness which I feel ,
+The wrack of all my friends , or this man's threats ,
+To whom I am subdued , are but light to me ,
+Might I but through my prison once a day
+Behold this maid : all corners else o' th' earth
+Let liberty make use of ; space enough
+Have I in such a prison .
+
+Come on .
+Thou hast done well , fine Ariel !
+
+Follow me .
+
+
+Hark , what thou else shalt do me .
+
+Be of comfort ;
+My father's of a better nature , sir ,
+Than he appears by speech : this is unwonted ,
+Which now came from him .
+
+Thou shalt be as free
+As mountain winds ; but then exactly do
+All points of my command .
+
+To the syllable .
+
+Come , follow .Speak not for him .
+
+Beseech you , sir , be merry : you have cause ,
+So have we all , of joy ; for our escape
+Is much beyond our loss . Our hint of woe
+Is common : every day some sailor's wife ,
+The masters of some merchant and the merchant ,
+Have just our theme of woe ; but for the miracle ,
+I mean our preservation , few in millions
+Can speak like us : then wisely , good sir , weigh
+Our sorrow with our comfort .
+
+Prithee , peace .
+
+He receives comfort like cold porridge .
+
+The visitor will not give him o'er so .
+
+Look , he's winding up the watch of his wit ; by and by it will strike .
+
+Sir ,
+
+One : tell .
+
+When every grief is entertain'd that's offer'd ,
+Comes to the entertainer
+
+A dollar .
+
+Dolour comes to him , indeed : you have spoken truer than you purposed .
+
+You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should .
+
+Therefore , my lord ,
+
+Fie , what a spendthrift is he of his tongue !
+
+I prithee , spare .
+
+Well , I have done : but yet
+
+He will be talking .
+
+Which , of he or Adrian , for a good wager , first begins to crow ?
+
+The old cock .
+
+The cockerel .
+
+Done . The wager ?
+
+A laughter .
+
+A match !
+
+Though this island seem to be desert ,
+
+Ha , ha , ha ! So you're paid .
+
+Uninhabitable , and almost inaccessible ,
+
+Yet
+
+Yet
+
+He could not miss it .
+
+It must needs be of subtle , tender , and delicate temperance .
+
+Temperance was a delicate wench .
+
+Ay , and a subtle ; as he most learnedly delivered .
+
+The air breathes upon us here most sweetly .
+
+As if it had lungs , and rotten ones .
+
+Or as 'twere perfumed by a fen .
+
+Here is everything advantageous to life .
+
+True ; save means to live .
+
+Of that there's none , or little .
+
+How lush and lusty the grass looks ! how green !
+
+The ground indeed is tawny .
+
+With an eye of green in't .
+
+He misses not much .
+
+No ; he doth but mistake the truth totally .
+
+But the rarity of it is ,which is indeed almost beyond credit ,
+
+As many vouch'd rarities are .
+
+That our garments , being , as they were , drenched in the sea , hold notwithstanding their freshness and glosses ; being rather new-dyed than stain'd with salt water .
+
+If but one of his pockets could speak , would it not say he lies ?
+
+Ay , or very falsely pocket up his report .
+
+Methinks , our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Afric , at the marriage of the king's fair daughter Claribel to the King of Tunis .
+
+'Twas a sweet marriage , and we prosper well in our return .
+
+Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon to their queen .
+
+Not since widow Dido's time .
+
+Widow ! a pox o' that ! How came that widow in ? Widow Dido !
+
+What if he had said , widower neas too ? Good Lord , how you take it !
+
+Widow Dido , said you ? you make me study of that : she was of Carthage , not of Tunis .
+
+This Tunis , sir , was Carthage .
+
+Carthage ?
+
+I assure you , Carthage .
+
+His word is more than the miraculous harp .
+
+He hath rais'd the wall , and houses too .
+
+What impossible matter will he make easy next ?
+
+I think he will carry this island home in his pocket , and give it his son for an apple .
+
+And , sowing the kernels of it in the sea , bring forth more islands .
+
+Ay ?
+
+Why , in good time .
+
+Sir , we were talking that our garments seem now as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of your daughter , who is now queen .
+
+And the rarest that e'er came there .
+
+Bate , I beseech you , widow Dido .
+
+O ! widow Dido ; ay , widow Dido .
+
+Is not , sir , my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it ? I mean , in a sort .
+
+That sort was well fish'd for .
+
+When I wore it at your daughter's marriage ?
+
+You cram these words into mine ears , against
+The stomach of my sense . Would I had never
+Married my daughter there ! for , coming thence ,
+My son is lost ; and , in my rate , she too ,
+Who is so far from Italy remov'd ,
+I ne'er again shall see her . O thou , mine heir
+Of Naples and of Milan ! what strange fish
+Hath made his meal on thee ?
+
+Sir , he may live :
+I saw him beat the surges under him ,
+And ride upon their backs : he trod the water ,
+Whose enmity he flung aside , and breasted
+The surge most swoln that met him : his bold head
+'Bove the contentious waves he kept , and oar'd
+Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke
+To the shore , that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd ,
+As stooping to relieve him . I not doubt
+He came alive to land .
+
+No , no ; he's gone .
+
+Sir , you may thank yourself for this great loss ,
+That would not bless our Europe with your daughter ,
+But rather lose her to an African ;
+Where she at least is banish'd from your eye ,
+Who hath cause to wet the grief on't .
+
+Prithee , peace .
+
+You were kneel'd to and importun'd otherwise
+By all of us ; and the fair soul herself
+Weigh'd between loathness and obedience , at
+Which end o' the beam should bow . We have lost your son ,
+I fear , for ever : Milan and Naples have
+More widows in them of this business' making ,
+Than we bring men to comfort them : the fault's
+Your own .
+
+So is the dearest of the loss .
+
+My lord Sebastian ,
+The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness
+And time to speak it in ; you rub the sore ,
+When you should bring the plaster .
+
+Very well .
+
+And most chirurgeonly .
+
+It is foul weather in us all , good sir ,
+When you are cloudy .
+
+Foul weather ?
+
+Very foul .
+
+Had I plantation of this isle , my lord ,
+
+He'd sow't with nettle-seed .
+
+Or docks , or mallows .
+
+'And were the king on't , what would I do ?
+
+'Scape being drunk for want of wine .
+
+I' the commonwealth I would by contraries
+Execute all things ; for no kind of traffic
+Would I admit ; no name of magistrate ;
+Letters should not be known ; riches , poverty ,
+And use of service , none ; contract , succession ,
+Bourn , bound of land , tilth , vineyard , none ;
+No use of metal , corn , or wine , or oil ;
+No occupation ; all men idle , all ;
+And women too , but innocent and pure ;
+No sovereignty ,
+
+Yet he would be king on't .
+
+The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning .
+
+All things in common nature should produce
+Without sweat or endeavour : treason , felony ,
+Sword , pike , knife , gun , or need of any engine ,
+Would I not have ; but nature should bring forth ,
+Of its own kind , all foison , all abundance ,
+To feed my innocent people .
+
+No marrying 'mong his subjects ?
+
+None , man ; all idle ; whores and knaves .
+
+I would with such perfection govern , sir ,
+To excel the golden age
+
+Save his majesty !
+
+Long live Gonzalo !
+
+And ,do you mark me , sir ?
+
+Prithee , no more : thou dost talk nothing to me .
+
+I do well believe your highness ; and did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen , who are of such sensible and nimble lungs that they always use to laugh at nothing .
+
+'Twas you we laugh'd at .
+
+Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to you ; so you may continue and laugh at nothing still .
+
+What a blow was there given !
+
+An it had not fallen flat-long .
+
+You are gentlemen of brave mettle : you would lift the moon out of her sphere , if she would continue in it five weeks without changing .
+
+
+We would so , and then go a-bat-fowling .
+
+Nay , good my lord , be not angry .
+
+No , I warrant you ; I will not adventure my discretion so weakly . Will you laugh me asleep , for I am very heavy ?
+
+Go sleep , and hear us .
+
+
+What ! all so soon asleep ! I wish mine eyes
+Would , with themselves , shut up my thoughts : I find
+They are inclin'd to do so .
+
+Please you , sir ,
+Do not omit the heavy offer of it :
+It seldom visits sorrow ; when it doth
+It is a comforter .
+
+We two , my lord ,
+Will guard your person while you take your rest ,
+And watch your safety .
+
+Thank you . Wondrous heavy .
+
+
+What a strange drowsiness possesses them !
+
+It is the quality o' the climate .
+
+Why
+Doth it not then our eyelids sink ? I find not
+Myself dispos'd to sleep .
+
+Nor I : my spirits are nimble .
+They fell together all , as by consent ;
+They dropp'd , as by a thunder-stroke . What might ,
+Worthy Sebastian ? O ! what might ?No more :
+And yet methinks I see it in thy face ,
+What thou should'st be . The occasion speaks thee ; and
+My strong imagination sees a crown
+Dropping upon thy head .
+
+What ! art thou waking ?
+
+Do you not hear me speak ?
+
+I do ; and surely ,
+It is a sleepy language , and thou speak'st
+Out of thy sleep . What is it thou didst say ?
+This is a strange repose , to be asleep
+With eyes wide open ; standing , speaking , moving ,
+And yet so fast asleep .
+
+Noble Sebastian ,
+Thou let'st thy fortune sleep die rather ; wink'st
+Whiles thou art waking .
+
+Thou dost snore distinctly :
+There's meaning in thy snores .
+
+I am more serious than my custom : you
+Must be so too , if heed me ; which to do
+Trebles thee o'er .
+
+Well ; I am standing water .
+
+I'll teach you how to flow .
+
+Do so : to ebb ,
+Hereditary sloth instructs me .
+
+O !
+If you but knew how you the purpose cherish
+Whiles thus you mock it ! how , in stripping it ,
+You more invest it ! Ebbing men , indeed ,
+Most often do so near the bottom run
+By their own fear or sloth .
+
+Prithee , say on :
+The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim
+A matter from thee , and a birth indeed
+Which throes thee much to yield .
+
+Thus , sir :
+Although this lord of weak remembrance , this
+Who shall be of as little memory
+When he is earth'd , hath here almost persuaded ,
+For he's a spirit of persuasion , only
+Professes to persuade ,the king , his son's alive ,
+'Tis as impossible that he's undrown'd
+As he that sleeps here swims .
+
+I have no hope
+That he's undrown'd .
+
+O ! out of that 'no hope
+What great hope have you ! no hope that way is
+Another way so high a hope that even
+Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond ,
+But doubts discovery there . Will you grant with me
+That Ferdinand is drown'd ?
+
+He's gone .
+
+Then tell me
+Who's the next heir of Naples ?
+
+Claribel .
+
+She that is Queen of Tums ; she that dwells
+Ten leagues beyond man's life ; she that from Naples
+Can have no note , unless the sun were post
+The man i' th' moon's too slow till new-born chins
+Be rough and razorable : she that , from whom ?
+We all were sea-swallow'd , though some cast again ,
+And by that destiny to perform an act
+Whereof what's past is prologue , what to come
+In yours and my discharge .
+
+What stuff is this !How say you ?
+'Tis true my brother's daughter's Queen of Tunis ;
+So is she heir of Naples ; 'twixt which regions
+There is some space .
+
+A space whose every cubit
+Seems to cry out , 'How shall that Claribel
+Measure us back to Naples ?Keep in Tunis ,
+And let Sebastian wake !' Say , this were death
+That now hath seiz'd them ; why , they were no worse
+Than now they are . There be that can rule Naples
+As well as he that sleeps ; lords that can prate
+As amply and unnecessarily
+As this Gonzalo ; I myself could make
+A chough of as deep chat . O , that you bore
+The mind that I do ! what a sleep were this
+For your advancement ! Do you understand me ?
+
+Methinks I do .
+
+And how does your content
+Tender your own good fortune ?
+
+I remember
+You did supplant your brother Prospero .
+
+True :
+And look how well my garments sit upon me ;
+Much feater than before ; my brother's servants
+Were then my fellows ; now they are my men .
+
+But , for your conscience ,
+
+Ay , sir ; where lies that ? if it were a kibe ,
+'Twould put me to my slipper ; but I feel not
+This deity in my bosom : twenty consciences ,
+That stand 'twixt me and Milan , candied be they ,
+And melt ere they molest ! Here lies your brother ,
+No better than the earth he lies upon ,
+If he were that which now he's like , that's dead ;
+Whom I , with this obedient steel ,three inches of it ,
+Can lay to bed for ever ; whiles you , doing thus ,
+To the perpetual wink for aye might put
+This ancient morsel , this Sir Prudence , who
+Should not upbraid our course . For all the rest ,
+They'll take suggestion as a cat laps milk ;
+They'll tell the clock to any business that
+We say befits the hour .
+
+Thy case , dear friend ,
+Shall be my precedent : as thou got'st Milan ,
+I'll come by Naples . Draw thy sword : one stroke
+Shall free thee from the tribute which thou pay'st ,
+And I the king shall love thee .
+
+Draw together ;
+And when I rear my hand , do you the like ,
+To fall it on Gonzalo .
+
+O ! but one word .
+
+My master through his art foresees the danger
+That you , his friend , are in ; and sends me forth
+For else his project dies to keep thee living .
+
+
+While you here do snoring lie ,
+Open-ey'd Conspiracy
+His time doth take .
+If of life you keep a care ,
+Shake off slumber , and beware
+Awake ! awake !
+
+
+Then let us both be sudden .
+
+Now , good angels
+Preserve the king !
+
+
+Why , how now ! ho , awake ! Why are you drawn ?
+Wherefore this ghastly looking ?
+
+What's the matter ?
+
+Whiles we stood here securing your repose ,
+Even now , we heard a hollow burst of bellowing
+Like bulls , or rather hons ; did't not wake you ?
+It struck mine ear most terribly .
+
+I heard nothing .
+
+O ! 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear ,
+To make an earthquake : sure it was the roar
+Of a whole herd of lions .
+
+Heard you this , Gonzalo ?
+
+Upon mine honour , sir , I heard a humming ,
+And that a strange one too , which did awake me .
+I shak'd you , sir , and cry'd ; as mine eyes open'd ,
+I saw their weapons drawn :there was a noise ,
+That's verily . 'Tis best we stand upon our guard ,
+Or that we quit this place : let's draw our weapons .
+
+Lead off this ground , and let's make further search
+For my poor son .
+
+Heavens keep him from these beasts !
+For he is , sure , i' the island .
+
+Lead away .
+
+
+Prospero my lord shall know what I have done :
+So , king , go safely on to seek thy son .
+
+
+All the infections that the sun sucks up
+From bogs , fens , flats , on Prosper fall , and make him
+By inch-meal a disease ! His spirits hear me ,
+And yet I needs must curse . But they'll nor pinch ,
+Fright me with urchin-shows , pitch me i' the mire ,
+Nor lead me , like a firebrand , in the dark
+Out of my way , unless he bid 'em ; but
+For every trifle are they set upon me :
+Sometime like apes , that mow and chatter at me
+And after bite me ; then like hedge-hogs , which
+Lie tumbling in my bare-foot way and mount
+Their pricks at my foot-fall ; sometime am I
+All wound with adders , who with cloven tongues
+Do hiss me into madness .
+
+
+Lo now ! lo !
+Here comes a spirit of his , and to torment me
+For bringing wood in slowly : I'll fall flat ;
+
+Perchance he will not mind me .
+
+Here's neither bush nor shrub to bear off any weather at all , and another storm brewing ; I hear it sing i' the wind : yond same black cloud , yond huge one , looks like a foul bombard that would shed his liquor . If it should thunder as it did before , I know not where to hide my head : yond same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailfuls .What have we here ? a man or a fish ? Dead or alive ? A fish : he smells like a fish ; a very ancient and fish-like smell ; a kind of not of the newest Poor-John . A strange fish ! Were I in England now ,as once I was ,and had but this fish painted , not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver : there would this monster make a man ; any strange beast there makes a man . When they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar , they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian . Legg'd like a man ! and his fins like arms ! Warm , o' my troth ! I do now let loose my opinion , hold it no longer ; this is no fish , but an islander , that hath lately suffered by a thunderbolt .
+
+Alas ! the storm is come again : my best way is to creep under his gaberdine ; there is no other shelter hereabout : misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows . I will here shroud till the dregs of the storm be past .
+
+I shall no more to sea , to sea ,
+Here shall I die a-shore :
+
+This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral :
+Well , here's my comfort .
+
+
+The master , the swabber , the boatswain and I ,
+The gunner and his mate ,
+Lov'd Mall , Meg , and Marian and Margery ,
+But none of us car'd for Kate ;
+For she had a tongue with a tang ,
+Would cry to a sailor , 'Go hang !'
+She lov'd not the savour of tar nor of pitch ,
+Yet a tailor might scratch her where-e'er she did itch :
+Then to sea , boys , and let her go hang .
+
+This is a scurvy tune too : but here's my comfort .
+
+
+Do not torment me : O !
+
+What's the matter ? Have we devils here ? Do you put tricks upon us with savages and men of Ind ? Ha ! I have not 'scaped drowning , to be afeard now of your four legs ; for it hath been said , As proper a man as ever went on four legs cannot make him give ground : and it shall be said so again while Stephano breathes at's nostrils .
+
+The spirit torments me : O !
+
+This is some monster of the isle with four legs , who hath got , as I take it , an ague . Where the devil should he learn our language ? I will give him some relief , if it be but for that : if I can recover him and keep him tame and get to Naples with him , he's a present for any emperor that ever trod on neat's-leather .
+
+Do not torment me , prithee : I'll bring my wood home faster .
+
+He's in his fit now and does not talk after the wisest . He shall taste of my bottle : if he have never drunk wine afore it will go near to remove his fit . If I can recover him , and keep him tame , I will not take too much for him : he shall pay for him that hath him , and that soundly .
+
+Thou dost me yet but little hurt ; thou wilt anon , I know it by thy trembling : now Prosper works upon thee .
+
+Come on your ways : open your mouth ; here is that which will give language to you , cat . Open your mouth : this will shake your shaking , I can tell you , and that soundly
+
+: you cannot tell who's your friend ; open your chaps again .
+
+I should know that voice : it should be but he is drowned , and these are devils . O ! defend me .
+
+Four legs and two voices ; a most delicate monster ! His forward voice now is to speak well of his friend ; his backward voice is to utter foul speeches , and to detract . If all the wine in my bottle will recover him , I will help his ague . Come . Amen ! I will pour some in thy other mouth .
+
+Stephano !
+
+Doth thy other mouth call me ? Mercy ! mercy ! This is a devil , and no monster : I will leave him ; I have no long spoon .
+
+Stephano !if thou beest Stephano , touch me , and speak to me ; for I am Trinculo :be not afeard thy good friend Trinculo .
+
+If thou beest Trinculo , come forth . I'll pull thee by the lesser legs : if any be Trinculo's legs , these are they . Thou art very Trinculo indeed ! How cam'st thou to be the siege of this moon-calf ? Can he vent Trinculos ?
+
+I took him to be killed with a thunderstroke . But art thou not drowned , Stephano ? I hope now thou art not drowned . Is the storm overblown ? I hid me under the dead mooncalf's gaberdine for fear of the storm . And art thou living , Stephano ? O Stephano ! two Neapolitans 'scaped !
+
+Prithee , do not turn me about : my stomach is not constant .
+
+These be fine things an if they be not sprites .
+That's a brave god and bears celestial liquor :
+I will kneel to him .
+
+How didst thou 'scape ? How cam'st thou hither ? swear by this bottle , how thou cam'st hither . I escaped upon a butt of sack , which the sailors heaved overboard , by this bottle ! which I made of the bark of a tree with mine own hands , since I was cast ashore .
+
+I'll swear upon that bottle , to be thy true subject ; for the liquor is not earthly .
+
+Here : swear then , how thou escapedst .
+
+Swam ashore , man , like a duck : I can swim like a duck , I'll be sworn .
+
+Here , kiss the book
+
+. Though thou canst swim like a duck , thou art made like a goose .
+
+O Stephano ! hast any more of this ?
+
+The whole butt , man : my cellar is in a rock by the seaside , where my wine is hid . How now , moon-calf ! how does thine ague ?
+
+Hast thou not dropped from heaven ?
+
+Out o the moon , I do assure thee : I was the man in the moon , when time was .
+
+I have seen thee in her , and I do adore thee ; my mistress showed me thee , and thy dog , and thy bush .
+
+Come , swear to that ; kiss the book ; I will furnish it anon with new contents ; swear .
+
+By this good light , this is a very shallow monster .I afeard of him !a very weak monster .The man i' the moon ! a most poor credulous monster !Well drawn , monster , in good sooth .
+
+I'll show thee every fertile inch o' the island ;
+And I will kiss thy foot . I prithee , be my god .
+
+By this light , a most perfidious and drunken monster : when his god's asleep , he'll rob his bottle .
+
+I'll kiss thy foot : I'll swear myself thy subject .
+
+Come on then ; down , and swear .
+
+I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed monster . A most scurvy monster ! I could find in my heart to beat him ,
+
+Come , kiss .
+
+But that the poor monster's in drink : an abominable monster !
+
+I'll shew thee the best springs ; I'll pluck thee berries ;
+I'll fish for thee , and get thee wood enough .
+A plague upon the tyrant that I serve !
+I'll bear him no more sticks , but follow thee ,
+Thou wondrous man .
+
+A most ridiculous monster , to make a wonder of a poor drunkard !
+
+I prithee , let me bring thee where crabs grow ;
+And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts ;
+Show thee a jay's nest and instruct thee how
+To snare the nimble marmozet ; I'll bring thee
+To clust'ring filberts , and sometimes I'll get thee
+Young scamels from the rock . Wilt thou go with me ?
+
+I prithee now , lead the way , without any more talking .Trinculo , the king and all our company else being drowned , we will inherit here .Here ; bear my bottle .Fellow Trinculo , we'll fill him by and by again .
+
+Farewell , master ; farewell , farewell
+
+
+A howling monster , a drunken monster .
+
+
+No more dams I'll make for fish ,
+Nor fetch in firing
+At requiring ,
+Nor scrape trenchering , nor wash dish ,
+'Ban , 'Ban , Ca Caliban ,
+Has a new master Get a new man .
+
+Freedom , high-day ! high-day , freedom ! freedom ! high-day , freedom !
+
+O brave monster ! lead the way .
+
+There be some sports are painful , and their labour
+Delight in them sets off : some kinds of baseness
+Are nobly undergone , and most poor matters
+Point to rich ends . This my mean task
+Would be as heavy to me as odious ; but
+The mistress which I serve quickens what's dead
+And makes my labours pleasures : O ! she is
+Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed ,
+And he's compos'd of harshness . I must remove
+Some thousands of these logs and pile them up ,
+Upon a sore injunction : my sweet mistress
+Weeps when she sees me work , and says such baseness
+Had never like executor . I forget :
+But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours ,
+Most busiest when I do it .
+
+
+Alas ! now , pray you ,
+Work not so hard : I would the lightning had
+Burnt up those logs that you are enjoin'd to pile !
+Pray , set it down and rest you : when this burns ,
+'Twill weep for having wearied you . My father
+Is hard at study ; pray now , rest yourself :
+He's safe for these three hours .
+
+O most dear mistress ,
+The sun will set , before I shall discharge
+What I must strive to do .
+
+If you'll sit down ,
+I'll bear your logs the while . Pray , give me that ;
+I'll carry it to the pile .
+
+No , precious creature :
+I had rather crack my sinews , break my back ,
+Than you should such dishonour undergo ,
+While I sit lazy by .
+
+It would become me
+As well as it does you : and I should do it
+With much more ease ; for my good will is to it ,
+And yours it is against .
+
+Poor worm ! thou art infected :
+This visitation shows it .
+
+You look wearily .
+
+No , noble mistress ; 'tis fresh morning with me
+When you are by at night . I do beseech you
+Chiefly that I might set it in my prayers
+What is your name ?
+
+Miranda .O my father !
+I have broke your hest to say so .
+
+Admir'd Miranda !
+Indeed , the top of admiration ; worth
+What's dearest to the world ! Full many a lady
+I have ey'd with best regard , and many a time
+The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage
+Brought my too diligent ear : for several virtues
+Have I lik'd several women ; never any
+With so full soul but some defect in her
+Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow'd ,
+And put it to the foil : but you , O you !
+So perfect and so peerless , are created
+Of every creature's best .
+
+I do not know
+One of my sex ; no woman's face remember ,
+Save , from my glass , mine own ; nor have I seen
+More that I may call men than you , good friend ,
+And my dear father : how features are abroad ,
+I am skill-less of ; but , by my modesty ,
+The jewel in my dower ,I would not wish
+Any companion in the world but you ;
+Nor can imagination form a shape ,
+Besides yourself , to like of . But I prattle
+Something too wildly and my father's precepts
+I therein do forget .
+
+I am in my condition
+A prince , Miranda ; I do think , a king ;
+I would not so !and would no more endure
+This wooden slavery than to suffer
+The flesh-fly blow my mouth .Hear my soul speak :
+The very instant that I saw you did
+My heart fly to your service ; there resides ,
+To make me slave to it ; and for your sake
+Am I this patient log-man .
+
+Do you love me ?
+
+O heaven ! O earth ! bear witness to this sound ,
+And crown what I profess with kind event
+If I speak true : if hollowly , invert
+What best is boded me to mischief ! I ,
+Beyond all limit of what else i' the world ,
+Do love , prize , honour you .
+
+I am a fool
+To weep at what I am glad of .
+
+Fair encounter
+Of two most rare affections ! Heavens rain grace
+On that which breeds between them !
+
+Wherefore weep you ?
+
+At mine unworthiness , that dare not offer
+What I desire to give ; and much less take
+What I shall die to want . But this is trifling ;
+And all the more it seeks to hide itself
+The bigger bulk it shows . Hence , bashful cunning !
+And prompt me , plain and holy innocence !
+I am your wife , if you will marry me ;
+If not , I'll die your maid : to be your fellow
+You may deny me ; but I'll be your servant
+Whether you will or no .
+
+My mistress , dearest ;
+And I thus humble ever .
+
+My husband then ?
+
+Ay , with a heart as willing
+As bondage e'er of freedom : here's my hand .
+
+And mine , with my heart in't : and now farewell
+Till half an hour hence .
+
+A thousand thousand !
+
+
+So glad of this as they , I cannot be ,
+Who are surpris'd withal ; but my rejoicing
+At nothing can be more . I'll to my book ;
+For yet , ere supper time , must I perform
+Much business appertaining .
+
+
+Tell not me :when the butt is out , we will drink water ; not a drop before : therefore bear up , and board 'em .Servant-monster , drink to me .
+
+Servant-monster ! the folly of this island ! They say there's but five upon this isle : we are three of them ; if th' other two be brained like us , the state totters .
+
+Drink , servant-monster , when I bid thee : thy eyes are almost set in thy head .
+
+Where should they be set else ? he were a brave monster indeed , if they were set in his tail .
+
+My man-monster hath drowned his tongue in sack : for my part , the sea cannot drown me ; I swam , ere I could recover the shore , five-and-thirty leagues , off and on , by this light . Thou shalt be my lieutenant , monster , or my standard .
+
+Your lieutenant , if you list ; he's no standard .
+
+We'll not run , Monsieur monster .
+
+Nor go neither : but you'll lie , like dogs ; and yet say nothing neither .
+
+Moon-calf , speak once in thy life , if thou beest a good moon-calf .
+
+How does thy honour ? Let me lick thy shoe . I'll not serve him , he is not valiant .
+
+Thou hest , most ignorant monster : I am in case to justle a constable . Why , thou deboshed fish thou , was there ever a man a coward that hath drunk so much sack as I to-day ? Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie , being but half a fish and half a monster ?
+
+Lo , how he mocks me ! wilt thou let him , my lord ?
+
+'Lord' quoth he !that a monster should be such a natural !
+
+Lo , lo , again ! bite him to death , I prithee .
+
+Trinculo , keep a good tongue in your head : if you prove a mutineer , the next tree ! The poor monster's my subject , and he shall not suffer indignity .
+
+I thank my noble lord . Wilt thou be pleas'd
+To hearken once again the suit I made thee ?
+
+Marry , will I ; kneel , and repeat it : I will stand , and so shall Trinculo .
+
+
+As I told thee before , I am subject to a tyrant , a sorcerer , that by his cunning hath cheated me of the island .
+
+Thou liest .
+
+Thou liest , thou jesting monkey thou ;
+I would my valiant master would destroy thee ;
+I do not lie .
+
+Trinculo , if you trouble him any more in his tale , by this hand , I will supplant some of your teeth .
+
+Why , I said nothing .
+
+Mum then and no more .
+
+Proceed .
+
+I say , by sorcery he got this isle ;
+From me he got it : if thy greatness will ,
+Revenge it on him ,for , I know , thou dar'st ;
+But this thing dare not ,
+
+That's most certain .
+
+Thou shalt be lord of it and I'll serve thee .
+
+How now shall this be compassed ? Canst thou bring me to the party ?
+
+Yea , yea , my lord : I'll yield him thee asleep ,
+Where thou may'st knock a nail into his head .
+
+Thou liest ; thou canst not .
+
+What a pied ninny's this ! Thou scurvy patch !
+I do beseech thy greatness , give him blows ,
+And take his bottle from him : when that's gone
+He shall drink nought but brine ; for I'll not show him
+Where the quick freshes are .
+
+Trinculo , run into no further danger : interrupt the monster one word further , and , by this hand , I'll turn my mercy out o' doors and make a stock-fish of thee .
+
+Why , what did I ? I did nothing . I'll go further off .
+
+Didst thou not say he hed ?
+
+Thou liest .
+
+Do I so ? take thou that .
+
+
+As you like this , give me the lie another time .
+
+I did not give thee the he :Out o' your wits and hearing too ?A pox o' your bottle ! this can sack and drinking do .A murrain on your monster , and the devil take your fingers !
+
+Ha , ha , ha !
+
+Now , forward with your tale .Prithee stand further off .
+
+Beat him enough : after a little time
+I'll beat him too .
+
+Stand further .Come , proceed .
+
+Why , as I told thee , 'tis a custom with him
+I' the afternoon to sleep : there thou may'st brain him ,
+Having first seiz'd his books ; or with a log
+Batter his skull , or paunch him with a stake ,
+Or cut his wezand with thy knife . Remember
+First to possess his books ; for without them
+He's but a sot , as I am , nor hath not
+One spirit to command : they all do hate him
+As rootedly as I . Burn but his books ;
+He has brave utensils ,for so he calls them ,
+Which , when he has a house , he'll deck withal :
+And that most deeply to consider is
+The beauty of his daughter ; he himself
+Calls her a nonpareil : I never saw a woman ,
+But only Sycorax my dam and she ;
+But she as far surpasseth Sycorax
+As great'st does least .
+
+Is it so brave a lass ?
+
+Ay , lord ; she will become thy bed , I warrant ,
+And bring thee forth brave brood .
+
+Monster , I will kill this man : his daughter and I will be king and queen ,save our graces ! and Trinculo and thyself shall be viceroys . Dost thou like the plot , Trinculo ?
+
+Excellent .
+
+Give me thy hand : I am sorry I beat thee ; but , while thou livest , keep a good tongue in thy head .
+
+Within this half hour will he be asleep ;
+Wilt thou destroy him then ?
+
+Ay , on mine honour .
+
+This will I tell my master .
+
+Thou mak'st me merry : I am full of pleasure .
+Let us be jocund : will you troll the catch
+You taught me but while-ere ?
+
+At thy request , monster , I will do reason , any reason : Come on , Trinculo , let us sing .
+
+
+Flout 'em , and scout 'em ; and scout 'em , and flout 'em ;
+Thought is free .
+
+
+That's not the tune .
+
+
+What is this same ?
+
+This is the tune of our catch , played by the picture of Nobody .
+
+If thou beest a man , show thyself in thy likeness : if thou beest a devil , take't as thou list .
+
+O , forgive me my sins !
+
+He that dies pays all debts : I defy thee .Mercy upon us !
+
+Art thou afeard ?
+
+No , monster , not I .
+
+Be not afeard : the isle is full of noises ,
+Sounds and sweet airs , that give delight , and hurt not .
+Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
+Will hum about mine ears ; and sometime voices ,
+That , if I then had wak'd after long sleep ,
+Will make mesleep again : and then , in dreaming ,
+The clouds methought would open and show riches
+Ready to drop upon me ; that , when I wak'd
+I cried to dream again .
+
+This will prove a brave kingdom to me , where I shall have my music for nothing .
+
+When Prospero is destroyed .
+
+That shall be by and by : I remember the story .
+
+The sound is going away : let's follow it , and after do our work .
+
+Lead , monster ; we'll follow .I would I could see this taborer ! he lays it on . Wilt come ?
+
+I'll follow , Stephano .
+
+
+By'r lakin , I can go no further , sir ;
+My old bones ache : here's a maze trod indeed ,
+Through forth-rights , and meanders ! by your patience ,
+I needs must rest me .
+
+Old lord , I cannot blame thee ,
+Who am myself attach'd with weariness ,
+To the dulling of my spirits : sit down , and rest .
+Even here I will put off my hope , and keep it
+No longer for my flatterer : he is drown'd
+Whom thus we stray to find ; and the sea mocks
+Our frustrate search on land . Well , let him go .
+
+I am right glad that he's so out of hope .
+Do not , for one repulse , forego the purpose
+That you resolv'd to effect .
+
+The next advantage
+Will we take throughly .
+
+Let it be to-night ;
+For , now they are oppress'd with travel , they
+Will not , nor cannot , use such vigilance
+As when they are fresh .
+
+I say to-night : no more .
+
+What harmony is this ? my good friends , hark !
+
+Marvellous sweet music !
+
+Give us kind keepers , heavens ! What were these ?
+
+A living drollery . Now I will believe
+That there are unicorns ; that in Arabia
+There is one tree , the ph nix' throne ; one ph nix
+At this hour reigning there .
+
+I'll believe both ;
+And what does else want credit , come to me ,
+And I'll be sworn 'tis true : travellers ne'er did lie ,
+Though fools at home condemn them .
+
+If in Naples
+I should report this now , would they believe me ?
+If I should say I saw such islanders ,
+For , certes , these are people of the island ,
+Who , though they are of monstrous shape , yet , note ,
+Their manners are more gentle-kind than of
+Our human generation you shall find
+Many , nay , almost any .
+
+Honest lord ,
+Thou hast said well ; for some of you there present
+Are worse than devils .
+
+I cannot too much muse ,
+Such shapes , such gesture , and such sound , expressing ,
+Although they want the use of tongue ,a kind
+Of excellent dumb discourse .
+
+Praise in departing .
+
+They vanish'd strangely .
+
+No matter , since
+They have left their viands behind ; for we have stomachs .
+Will't please you to taste of what is here ?
+
+Not I .
+
+Faith , sir , you need not fear . When we were boys ,
+Who would believe that there were mountaineers
+Dew-lapp'd like bulls , whose throats had hanging at them
+Wallets of flesh ? or that there were such men
+Whose heads stood in their breasts ? which now we find
+Each putter-out of five for one will bring us
+Good warrant of .
+
+I will stand to and feed ,
+Although my last ; no matter , since I feel
+The best is past .Brother , my lord the duke ,
+Stand to and do as we .
+
+You are three men of sin , whom Destiny
+That hath to instrument this lower world
+And what is in't ,the never-surfeited sea
+Hath caused to belch up you ; and on this island
+Where man doth not inhabit ; you 'mongst men
+Being most unfit to live . I have made you mad ;
+
+
+And even with such-like valour men hang and drown
+Their proper selves . You fools ! I and my fellows
+Are ministers of fate : the elements
+Of whom your swords are temper'd , may as well
+Wound the loud winds , or with bemock'd-at stabs
+Kill the still-closing waters , as diminish
+One dowle that's in my plume ; my fellow-ministers
+Are like invulnerable . If you could hurt ,
+Your swords are now too massy for your strengths ,
+And will not be uplifted . But , remember ,
+For that's my business to you ,that you three
+From Milan did supplant good Prospero ;
+Expos'd unto the sea , which hath requit it ,
+Him and his innocent child : for which foul deed
+The powers , delaying , not forgetting , have
+Incens'd the seas and shores , yea , all the creatures ,
+Against your peace . Thee of thy son , Alonso ,
+They have bereft ; and do pronounce , by me ,
+Lingering perdition ,worse than any death
+Can be at once ,shall step by step attend
+You and your ways ; whose wraths to guard you from
+Which here in this most desolate isle , else falls
+Upon your heads ,is nothing but heart-sorrow
+And a clear life ensuing .
+
+
+Bravely the figure of this harpy hast thou
+Perform'd , my Ariel ; a grace it had , devouring :
+Of my instruction hast thou nothing bated
+In what thou hadst to say : so , with good life
+And observation strange , my meaner ministers
+Their several kinds have done . My high charms work ,
+And these mine enemies are all knit up
+In their distractions : they now are in my power ;
+And in these fits I leave them , while I visit
+Young Ferdinand ,whom they suppose is drown'd ,
+And his and mine lov'd darling .
+
+
+I the name of something holy , sir , why stand you
+In this strange stare ?
+
+O , it is monstrous ! monstrous !
+Methought the billows spoke and told me of it ;
+The winds did sing it to me ; and the thunder ,
+That deep and dreadful organ-pipe , pronounc'd
+The name of Prosper : it did bass my trespass .
+Therefore my son i' th' ooze is bedded ; and
+I'll seek him deeper than e'er plummet sounded ,
+And with him there lie mudded .
+
+
+But one fiend at a time ,
+I'll fight their legions o'er .
+
+I'll be thy second .
+
+
+All three of them are desperate ; their great guilt ,
+Like poison given to work a great time after ,
+Now 'gins to bite the spirits .I do beseech you
+That are of suppler joints , follow them swiftly
+And hinder them from what this ecstasy
+May now provoke them to .
+
+Follow , I pray you .
+
+If I have too austerely punish'd you ,
+Your compensation makes amends ; for I
+Have given you here a third of mine own life ,
+Or that for which I live ; whom once again
+I tender to thy hand : all thy vexations
+Were but my trials of thy love , and thou
+Hast strangely stood the test : here , afore Heaven ,
+I ratify this my rich gift . O Ferdinand !
+Do not smile at me that I boast her off ,
+For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise ,
+And make it halt behind her .
+
+I do believe it
+Against an oracle .
+
+Then , as my gift and thine own acquisition
+Worthily purchas'd , take my daughter : but
+If thou dost break her virgin knot before
+All sanctimonious ceremonies may
+With full and holy rite be minister'd ,
+No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall
+To make this contract grow ; but barren hate ,
+Sour-ey'd disdain and discord shall bestrew
+The union of your bed with weeds so loathly
+That you shall hate it both : therefore take heed ,
+As Hymen's lamps shall light you .
+
+As I hope
+For quiet days , fair issue and long life ,
+With such love as 'tis now , the murkiest den ,
+The most opportune place , the strong'st sug gestion
+Our worser genius can , shall never melt
+Mine honour into lust , to take away
+The edge of that day's celebration
+When I shall think , or Ph bus' steeds are founder'd ,
+Or Night kept chain'd below .
+
+Fairly spoke :
+Sit then , and talk with her , she is thine own .
+What , Ariell my industrious servant Ariell
+
+
+What would my potent master ? here I am .
+
+Thou and thy meaner fellows your last service
+Did worthily perform ; and I must use you
+In such another trick . Go bring the rabble ,
+O'er whom I give thee power , here to this place :
+Incite them to quick motion ; for I must
+Bestow upon the eyes of this young couple
+Some vanity of mine art : it is my promise ,
+And they expect it from me .
+
+Presently ?
+
+Ay , with a twink .
+
+Before you can say , 'Come ,' and 'Go ,'
+And breathe twice ; and cry , 'so , so ,'
+Each one , tripping on his toe ,
+Will be here with mop and mow .
+Do you love me , master ? no ?
+
+Dearly my delicate Ariel . Do not approach
+Till thou dost hear me call .
+
+Well , I conceive .
+
+
+Look , thou be true ; do not give dalliance
+Too much the rein : the strongest oaths are straw
+To the fire i' the blood : be more abstemious ,
+Or else good night your vow !
+
+I warrant you , sir ;
+The white-cold virgin snow upon my heart
+Abates the ardour of my liver .
+
+Well .
+Now come , my Ariel ! bring a corollary ,
+Rather than want a spirit : appear , and pertly .
+No tongue ! all eyes ! be silent .
+
+Ceres , most bounteous lady , thy rich leas
+Of wheat , rye , barley , vetches , oats , and peas ;
+Thy turfy mountains , where live nibbling sheep ,
+And flat meads thatch'd with stover , them to keep ;
+Thy banks with pioned and twilled brims ,
+Which spongy April at thy hest betrims ,
+To make cold nymphs chaste crowns ; and thy broom groves ,
+Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves ,
+Being lass-lorn ; thy pole-clipt vineyard ;
+And thy sea-marge , sterile and rocky-hard ,
+Where thou thyself dost air : the queen o' the sky ,
+Whose watery arch and messenger am I ,
+Bids thee leave these ; and with her sovereign grace ,
+Here on this grass-plot , in this very place ,
+To come and sport ; her peacocks fly amain :
+Approach , rich Ceres , her to entertain .
+
+
+Hail , many-colour'd messenger , that ne'er
+Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter ;
+Who with thy saffron wings upon my flowers
+Diffusest honey-drops , refreshing showers :
+And with each end of thy blue bow dost crown
+My bosky acres , and my unshrubb'd down ,
+Rich scarf to my proud earth ; why hath thy queen
+Summon'd me hither , to this short-grass'd green ?
+
+A contract of true love to celebrate ,
+And some donation freely to estate
+On the bless'd lovers .
+
+Tell me , heavenly bow ,
+If Venus or her son , as thou dost know ,
+Do now attend the queen ? since they did plot
+The means that dusky Dis my daughter got ,
+Her and her blind boy's scandal'd company
+I have forsworn .
+
+Of her society
+Be not afraid ; I met her deity
+Cutting the clouds towards Paphos and her son
+Dove-drawn with her . Here thought they to have done
+Some wanton charm upon this man and maid ,
+Whose vows are , that no bed-rite shall be paid
+Till Hymen's torch be lighted ; but in vain :
+Mars's hot minion is return'd again ;
+Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows ,
+Swears he will shoot no more , but play with sparrows ,
+And be a boy right out .
+
+Highest queen of state ,
+Great Juno comes ; I know her by her gait .
+
+
+How does my bounteous sister ? Go with me
+To bless this twain , that they may prosperous be ,
+And honour'd in their issue .
+
+Honour , riches , marriage-blessing ,
+Long continuance , and increasing ,
+Hourly joys be still upon you !
+Juno sings her blessings on you .
+
+Earth's increase , foison plenty ,
+Barns and garners never empty :
+Vines , with clust'ring bunches growing ;
+Plants with goodly burden bowing ;
+Spring come to you at the farthest
+In the very end of harvest !
+Scarcity and want shall shun you ;
+Ceres' blessing so is on you .
+
+This is a most majestic vision , and
+Harmonious charmingly : May I be bold
+To think these spirits ?
+
+Spirits , which by mine art
+I have from their confines call'd to enact
+My present fancies .
+
+Let me live here ever :
+So rare a wonder'd father and a wise ,
+Makes this place Paradise .
+
+
+Sweet , now , silence !
+Juno and Ceres whisper seriously ,
+There's something else to do : hush , and be mute ,
+Or else our spell is marr'd .
+
+You nymphs , call'd Naiades , of the windring brooks ,
+With your sedg'd crowns , and ever-harmless looks ,
+Leave your crisp channels , and on this green land
+Answer your summons : Juno does command .
+Come , temperate nymphs , and help to celebrate
+A contract of true love : be not too late .
+
+
+You sun-burn'd sicklemen , of August weary ,
+Come hither from the furrow , and be merry :
+Make holiday : your rye-straw hats put on ,
+And these fresh nymphs encounter every one
+In country footing .
+
+
+I had forgot that foul conspiracy
+Of the beast Caliban , and his confederates
+Against my life : the minute of their plot
+Is almost come .
+
+Well done ! avoid ; no more !
+
+This is strange : your father's in some passion
+That works him strongly .
+
+Never till this day
+Saw I him touch'd with anger so distemper'd .
+
+You do look , my son , in a mov'd sort ,
+As if you were dismay'd : be cheerful , sir :
+Our revels now are ended . These our actors ,
+As I foretold you , were all spirits and
+Are melted into air , into thin air :
+And , like the baseless fabric of this vision ,
+The cloud-capp'd towers , the gorgeous palaces ,
+The solemn temples , the great globe itself ,
+Yea , all which it inherit , shall dissolve
+And , like this insubstantial pageant faded ,
+Leave not a rack behind . We are such stuff
+As dreams are made on , and our little life
+Is rounded with a sleep .Sir , I am vex'd :
+Bear with my weakness ; my old brain is troubled .
+Be not disturb'd with my infirmity .
+If you be pleas'd , retire into my cell
+And there repose : a turn or two I'll walk ,
+To still my beating mind .
+
+We wish your peace .
+
+
+Come with a thought !
+
+I thank thee : Ariel , come !
+
+
+Thy thoughts I cleave to . What's thy pleasure ?
+
+Spirit ,
+We must prepare to meet with Caliban .
+
+Ay , my commander ; when I presented Ceres ,
+I thought to have told thee of it ; but I fear'd
+Lest I might anger thee .
+
+Say again , where didst thou leave these varlets ?
+
+I told you , sir , they were red-hot with drinking ;
+So full of valour that they smote the air
+For breathing in their faces ; beat the ground
+For kissing of their feet ; yet always bending
+Towards their project . Then I beat my tabor ;
+At which , like unback'd colts , they prick'd their ears ,
+Advanc'd their eyelids , lifted up their noses
+As they smelt music : so I charm'd their ears
+That , calf-like , they my lowing follow'd through
+Tooth'd briers , sharp furzes , pricking goss and thorns ,
+Which enter'd their frail shins : at last I left them
+I' the filthy-mantled pool beyond your cell ,
+There dancing up to the chins , that the foul lake
+O'erstunk their feet .
+
+This was well done , my bird .
+Thy shape invisible retain thou still :
+The trumpery in my house , go bring it hither ,
+For stale to catch these thieves .
+
+I go , I go .
+
+
+A devil , a born devil , on whose nature
+Nurture can never stick ; on whom my pains ,
+Humanely taken , are all lost , quite lost ;
+And as with age his body uglier grows ,
+So his mind cankers . I will plague them all ,
+Even to roaring .
+
+
+Come , hang them on this line .
+
+Pray you , tread softly , that the blind mole may not
+Hear a foot fall : we now are near his cell .
+
+Monster , your fairy , which you say is a harmless fairy , has done little better than played the Jack with us .
+
+Monster , I do smell all horse-piss ; at which my nose is in great indignation .
+
+So is mine .Do you hear , monster ? If I should take a displeasure against you , look you ,
+
+Thou wert but a lost monster .
+
+Good my lord , give me thy favour still :
+Be patient , for the prize I'll bring thee to
+Shall hoodwink this mischance : therefore speak softly ;
+All's hush'd as midnight yet .
+
+Ay , but to lose our bottles in the pool ,
+
+There is not only disgrace and dishonour in that , monster , but an infinite loss .
+
+That's more to me than my wetting : yet this is your harmless fairy , monster .
+
+I will fetch off my bottle , though I be o'er ears for my labour .
+
+Prithee , my king , be quiet . Seest thou here ,
+This is the mouth o' the cell : no noise , and enter .
+Do that good mischief , which may make this island
+Thine own for ever , and I , thy Caliban ,
+For aye thy foot-licker .
+
+Give me thy hand : I do begin to have bloody thoughts .
+
+O king Stephano ! O peer ! O worthy Stephano ! look , what a wardrobe here is for thee !
+
+Let it alone , thou fool ; it is but trash .
+
+O , ho , monster ! we know what belongs to a frippery .O king Stephano !
+
+Put off that gown , Trinculo ; by this hand , I'll have that gown .
+
+Thy grace shall have it .
+
+The dropsy drown this fooll what do you mean
+To dote thus on such luggage ? Let's along ,
+And do the murder first : if he awake ,
+From toe to crown he'll fill our skins with pinches ;
+Make us strange stuff .
+
+Be you quiet , monster .Mistress line , is not this my jerkin ? Now is the jerkin under the line : now , jerkin , you are like to lose your hair and prove a bald jerkin .
+
+Do , do : we steal by line and level , an't like your grace .
+
+I thank thee for that jest ; here's a garment for't : wit shall not go unrewarded while I am king of this country : 'Steal by line and level ,' is an excellent pass of pate ; there's another garment for't .
+
+Monster , come , put some lime upon your fingers , and away with the rest .
+
+I will have none on't : we shall lose our time ,
+And all be turn'd to barnacles , or to apes
+With foreheads villanous low .
+
+Monster , lay-to your fingers : help to bear this away where my hogshead of wine is , or I'll turn you out of my kingdom . Go to ; carry this .
+
+And this .
+
+Ay , and this .
+
+Hey , Mountain , hey !
+
+Silver ! there it goes , Silver !
+
+Fury , Fury ! there , Tyrant , there ! hark , hark !
+
+Go , charge my goblins that they grind their joints
+With dry convulsions ; shorten up their sinews
+With aged cramps , and more pinch-spotted make them
+Than pard , or cat o' mountain .
+
+Hark ! they roar .
+
+Let them be hunted soundly . At this hour
+Lie at my mercy all mine enemies :
+Shortly shall all my labours end , and thou
+Shalt have the air at freedom : for a little ,
+Follow , and do me service .
+
+Now does my project gather to a head :
+My charms crack not ; my spirits obey , and time
+Goes upright with his carriage . How's the day ?
+
+On the sixth hour ; at which time , my lord ,
+You said our work should cease .
+
+I did say so ,
+When first I rais'd the tempest . Say , my spirit ,
+How fares the king and's followers ?
+
+Confin'd together
+In the same fashion as you gave in charge ,
+Just as you left them : all prisoners , sir ,
+In the line-grove which weather-fends your cell ;
+They cannot budge till your release . The king ,
+His brother , and yours , abide all three distracted ,
+And the remainder mourning over them ,
+Brimful of sorrow and dismay ; but chiefly
+Him , that you term'd , sir , 'The good old lord Gonzalo :'
+His tears run down his beard , like winter's drops
+From eaves of reeds ; your charm so strongly works them ,
+That if you now beheld them , your affections
+Would become tender .
+
+Dost thou think so , spirit ?
+
+Mine would , sir , were I human .
+
+And mine shall .
+Hast thou , which art but air , a touch , a feeling
+Of their afflictions , and shall not myself ,
+One of their kind , that relish all as sharply ,
+Passion as they , be kindlier mov'd than thou art ?
+Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick ,
+Yet with my nobler reason 'gainst my fury
+Do I take part : the rarer action is
+In virtue than in vengeance : they being penitent ,
+The sole drift of my purpose doth extend
+Not a frown further . Go , release them , Ariel .
+My charms I'll break , their senses I'll restore ,
+And they shall be themselves .
+
+I'll fetch them , sir
+
+
+Ye elves of hills , brooks , standing lakes , and groves ;
+And ye , that on the sands with printless foot
+Do chase the ebbing Neptune and do fly him
+When he comes back ; you demi-puppets , that
+By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make
+Whereof the ewe not bites ; and you , whose pastime
+Is to make midnight mushrooms ; that rejoice
+To hear the solemn curfew ; by whose aid ,
+Weak masters though ye be I have bedimm'd
+The noontide sun , call'd forth the mutinous winds ,
+And 'twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault
+Set roaring war : to the dread-rattling thunder
+Have I given fire and rifted Jove's stout oak
+With his own bolt : the strong-bas'd promontory
+Have I made shake ; and by the spurs pluck'd up
+The pine and cedar : graves at my command
+Have wak'd their sleepers , op'd , and let them forth
+By my so potent art . But this rough magic
+I here abjure ; and , when I have requir'd
+Some heavenly music ,which even now I do ,
+To work mine end upon their senses that
+This airy charm is for , I'll break my staff ,
+Bury it certain fathoms in the earth ,
+And , deeper than did ever plummet sound ,
+I'll drown my book .
+
+A solemn air and the best comforter
+To an unsettled fancy , cure thy brains ,
+Now useless , boil'd within thy skull ! There stand ,
+For you are spell-stopp'd .
+Holy Gonzalo , honourable man ,
+Mine eyes , even sociable to the show of thine ,
+Fall fellowly drops . The charm dissolves apace ;
+And as the morning steals upon the night ,
+Melting the darkness , so their rising senses
+Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle
+Their clearer reason .O good Gonzalo !
+My true preserver , and a loyal sir
+To him thou follow'st , I will pay thy graces
+Home , both in word and deed .Most cruelly
+Didst thou , Alonso , use me and my daughter :
+Thy brother was a furtherer in the act ;
+Thou'rt pinch'd for't now , Sebastian .Flesh and blood ,
+You , brother mine , that entertain'd ambition ,
+Expell'd remorse and nature ; who , with Sebastian ,
+Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong ,
+Would here have kill'd your king ; I do forgive thee ,
+Unnatural though thou art !Their understanding
+Begins to swell , and the approaching tide
+Will shortly fill the reasonable shores
+That now lie foul and muddy . Not one of them
+That yet looks on me , or would know me .Ariel ,
+Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell :
+
+I will discase me , and myself present ,
+As I was sometime Milan .Quickly , spirit ;
+Thou shalt ere long be free .
+
+
+Where the bee sucks , there suck I
+In a cowslip's bell I he :
+There I couch when owls do cry .
+On the bat's back I do fly
+After summer merrily
+Merrily , merrily shall I live now
+Under the blossom that hangs on the bough
+
+
+Why , that's my dainty Ariel ! I shall miss thee ;
+But yet thou shalt have freedom ;so , so , so .
+To the king's ship , invisible as thou art :
+There shalt thou find the mariners asleep
+Under the hatches ; the master and the boatswain
+Being awake , enforce them to this place ,
+And presently , I prithee .
+
+I drink the air before me , and return
+Or e'er your pulse twice beat .
+
+
+All torment , trouble , wonder , and amazement
+Inhabits here : some heavenly power guide us
+Out of this fearful country !
+
+Behold , sir king ,
+The wronged Duke of Milan , Prospero .
+For more assurance that a living prince
+Does now speak to thee , I embrace thy body ;
+And to thee and thy company I bid
+A hearty welcome .
+
+Whe'r thou beest he or no ,
+Or some enchanted trifle to abuse me ,
+As late I have been , I not know : thy pulse
+Beats , as of flesh and blood ; and , since I saw thee ,
+Th' affliction of my mind amends , with which ,
+I fear , a madness held me : this must crave ,
+An if this be at all a most strange story .
+Thy dukedom I resign , and do entreat
+Thou pardon me my wrongs .But how should Prospero
+Be living , and be here ?
+
+First , noble friend ,
+Let me embrace thine age ; whose honour cannot
+Be measur'd , or confin'd .
+
+Whether this be ,
+Or be not , I'll not swear .
+
+You do yet taste
+Some subtilties o' the isle , that will not let you
+Believe things certain .Welcome ! my friends all :
+
+
+But you , my brace of lords , were I so minded ,
+I here could pluck his highness' frown upon you ,
+And justify you traitors : at this time
+I will tell no tales .
+
+The devil speaks in him .
+
+No .
+For you , most wicked sir , whom to call brother
+Would even infect my mouth , I do forgive
+Thy rankest fault ; all of them ; and require
+My dukedom of thee , which , perforce , I know ,
+Thou must restore .
+
+If thou beest Prospero ,
+Give us particulars of thy preservation ;
+How thou hast met us here , who three hours since
+Were wrack'd upon this shore ; where I have lost ,
+How sharp the point of this remembrance is !
+My dear son Ferdinand .
+
+I am woe for't , sir .
+
+Irreparable is the loss , and patience
+Says it is past her cure .
+
+I rather think
+You have not sought her help ; of whose soft grace ,
+For the like loss I have her sovereign aid ,
+And rest myself content .
+
+You the like loss !
+
+As great to me , as late ; and , supportable
+To make the dear loss , have I means much weaker
+Than you may call to comfort you , for I
+Have lost my daughter .
+
+A daughter ?
+O heavens ! that they were living both in Naples ,
+The king and queen there ! that they were , I wish
+Myself were mudded in that oozy bed
+Where my son lies . When did you lose your daughter ?
+
+In this last tempest . I perceive , these lords
+At this encounter do so much admire
+That they devour their reason , and scarce think
+Their eyes do offices of truth , their words
+Are natural breath : but , howsoe'er you have
+Been justled from your senses , know for certain
+That I am Prospero and that very duke
+Which was thrust forth of Milan ; who most strangely
+Upon this shore , where you were wrack'd , was landed ,
+To be the lord on't . No more yet of this ;
+For 'tis a chronicle of day by day ,
+Not a relation for a breakfast nor
+Befitting this first meeting . Welcome , sir ;
+This cell's my court : here have I few attendants
+And subjects none abroad : pray you , look in .
+My dukedom since you have given me again ,
+I will requite you with as good a thing ;
+At least bring forth a wonder , to content ye
+As much as me my dukedom .
+
+
+Sweet lord , you play me false .
+
+No , my dearest love ,
+I would not for the world .
+
+Yes , for a score of kingdoms you should wrangle ,
+And I would call it fair play .
+
+If this prove
+A vision of the island , one dear son
+Shall I twice lose .
+
+A most high miracle !
+
+Though the seas threaten , they are merciful :
+I have curs'd them without cause .
+
+
+Now , all the blessings
+Of a glad father compass thee about !
+Arise , and say how thou cam'st here .
+
+O , wonder !
+How many goodly creatures are there here !
+How beauteous mankind is ! O brave new world ,
+That has such people in't !
+
+'Tis new to thee .
+
+What is this maid , with whom thou wast at play ?
+Your eld'st acquaintance cannot be three hours :
+Is she the goddess that hath sever'd us ,
+And brought us thus together ?
+
+Sir , she is mortal ;
+But by immortal Providence she's mine ;
+I chose her when I could not ask my father
+For his advice , nor thought I had one . She
+Is daughter to this famous Duke of Milan ,
+Of whom so often I have heard renown ,
+But never saw before ; of whom I have
+Receiv'd a second life ; and second father
+This lady makes him to me .
+
+I am hers :
+But O ! how oddly will it sound that I
+Must ask my child forgiveness !
+
+There , sir , stop :
+Let us not burden our remembrances
+With a heaviness that's gone .
+
+I have inly wept ,
+Or should have spoke ere this . Look down , you gods ,
+And on this couple drop a blessed crown ;
+For it is you that have chalk'd forth the way
+Which brought us hither !
+
+I say , Amen , Gonzalo !
+
+Was Milan thrust from Milan , that his issue
+Should become kings of Naples ? O , rejoice
+Beyond a common joy , and set it down
+With gold on lasting pillars . In one voyage
+Did Claribel her husband find at Tunis ,
+And Ferdinand , her brother , found a wife
+Where he himself was lost ; Prospero his dukedom
+In a poor isle ; and all of us ourselves ,
+When no man was his own .
+
+Give me your hands :
+Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart
+That doth not wish you joy !
+
+Be it so : Amen !
+
+
+O look , sir ! look , sir ! here are more of us .
+I prophesied , if a gallows were on land ,
+This fellow could not drown .Now , blasphemy ,
+That swear'st grace o'erboard , not an oath on shore ?
+
+Hast thou no mouth by land ? What is the news ?
+
+The best news is that we have safely found
+Our king and company : the next , our ship ,
+Which but three glasses since we gave out split ,
+Is tight and yare and bravely rigg'd as when
+We first put out to sea .
+
+Sir , all this service
+Have I done since I went .
+
+My tricksy spirit !
+
+These are not natural events ; they strengthen
+From strange to stranger .Say , how came you hither ?
+
+If I did think , sir , I were well awake ,
+I'd strive to tell you . We were dead of sleep ,
+And ,how we know not ,all clapp'd under hatches ,
+Where , but even now , with strange and several noises
+Of roaring , shrieking , howling , jingling chains ,
+And mo diversity of sounds , all horrible ,
+We were awak'd ; straightway , at liberty :
+Where we , in all her trim , freshly beheld
+Our royal , good , and gallant ship ; our master
+Capering to eye her : on a trice , so please you ,
+Even in a dream , were we divided from them ,
+And were brought moping hither .
+
+Was't well done ?
+
+Bravely , my diligence ! Thou shalt be free .
+
+This is as strange a maze as e'er men trod ;
+And there is in this business more than nature
+Was ever conduct of : some oracle
+Must rectify our knowledge .
+
+Sir , my liege ,
+Do not infest your mind with beating on
+The strangeness of this business : at pick'd leisure
+Which shall be shortly , single I'll resolve you ,
+Which to you shall seem probable ,of every
+These happen'd accidents ; till when , be cheerful ,
+And think of each thing well .
+
+Come hither , spirit ;
+Set Caliban and his companions free ;
+Untie the spell .
+
+How fares my gracious sir ?
+There are yet missing of your company
+Some few odd lads that you remember not .
+
+
+Every man shift for all the rest , and let no man take care for himself , for all is but fortune .Coragio ! bully-monster , Coragio !
+
+If these be true spies which I wear in my head , here's a goodly sight .
+
+O Setebos ! these be brave spirits , indeed .
+How fine my master is ! I am afraid
+He will chastise me .
+
+Ha , ha !
+What things are these , my lord Antonio ?
+Will money buy them ?
+
+Very like ; one of them
+Is a plain fish , and , no doubt , marketable .
+
+Mark but the badges of these men , my lords ,
+Then say , if they be true .This mis-shapen knave ,
+His mother was a witch ; and one so strong
+That could control the moon , make flows and ebbs ,
+And deal in her command without her power .
+These three have robb'd me ; and this demidevil ,
+For he's a bastard one ,had plotted with them
+To take my life : two of these fellows you
+Must know and own ; this thing of darkness I
+Acknowledge mine .
+
+I shall be pinch'd to death
+
+Is not this Stephano , my drunken butler ?
+
+He is drunk now : where had he wine ?
+
+And Trinculo is reeling-ripe : where should they
+Find this grand liquor that hath gilded them ?
+How cam'st thou in this pickle ?
+
+I have been in such a pickle since I saw you last that , I fear me , will never out of my bones : I shall not fear fly-blowing .
+
+Why , how now , Stephano !
+
+O ! touch me not : I am not Stephano , but a cramp .
+
+You'd be king of the isle , sirrah ?
+
+I should have been a sore one then .
+
+This is a strange thing as e'er I look'd on .
+
+
+He is as disproportion'd in his manners As in his shape .Go , sirrah , to my cell ;
+Take with you your companions : as you look
+To have my pardon , trim it handsomely .
+
+Ay , that I will ; and I'll be wise hereafter ,
+And seek for grace . What a thrice-double ass
+Was I , to take this drunkard for a god ,
+And worship this dull fool !
+
+Go to ; away !
+
+Hence , and bestow your luggage where you found it .
+
+Or stole it , rather .
+
+
+Sir , I invite your highness and your train
+To my poor cell , where you shall take your rest
+For this one night ; which part of it I'll waste
+With such discourse as , I not doubt , shall make it
+Go quick away ; the story of my life
+And the particular accidents gone by
+Since I came to this isle : and in the morn
+I'll bring you to your ship , and so to Naples ,
+Where I have hope to see the nuptial
+Of these our dear-beloved solemniz'd ;
+And thence retire me to my Milan , where
+Every third thought shall be my grave .
+
+I long
+To hear the story of your life , which must
+Take the ear strangely .
+
+I'll deliver all ;
+And promise you calm seas , auspicious gales
+And sail so expeditious that shall catch
+Your royal fleet far off .
+
+My Ariel , chick ,
+That is thy charge : then to the elements
+Be free , and fare thou well !Please you , draw near .
+
+Now my charms are all o'erthrown ,
+And what strength I have's mine own ;
+Which is most faint : now , 'tis true ,
+I must be here confin'd by you ,
+Or sent to Naples Let me not ,
+Since I have my dukedom got
+And pardon'd the deceiver , dwell
+In this bare island by your spell ;
+But release me from my bands
+With the help of your good hands .
+Gentle breath of yours my sails
+Must fill , or else my project fails ,
+Which was to please . Now I want
+Spirits to enforce , art to enchant ;
+And my ending is despair ,
+Unless I be reliev'd by prayer ,
+Which pierces so that it assaults
+Mercy itself and frees all faults .
+As you from crimes would pardon'd be ,
+Let your indulgence set me free .
+
+THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA
+
+Cease to persuade , my loving Proteus :
+Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits .
+Were't not affection chains thy tender days
+To the sweet glances of thy honour'd love ,
+I rather would entreat thy company
+To see the wonders of the world abroad
+Than , living dully sluggardiz'd at home ,
+Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness .
+But since thou lov'st , love still , and thrive therein ,
+Even as I would when I to love begin .
+
+Wilt thou be gone ? Sweet Valentine , adieu !
+Think on thy Proteus , when thou haply seest
+Some rare note-worthy object in thy travel :
+Wish me partaker in thy happiness
+When thou dost meet good hap ; and in thy danger ,
+If ever danger do environ thee ,
+Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers ,
+For I will be thy beadsman , Valentine .
+
+And on a love-book pray for my success ?
+
+Upon some book I love I'll pray for thee .
+
+That's on some shallow story of deep love ,
+How young Leander cross'd the Hellespont .
+
+That's a deep story of a deeper love ;
+For he was more than over shoes in love .
+
+'Tis true ; for you are over boots in love ,
+And yet you never swum the Hellespont .
+
+Over the boots ? nay , give me not the boots .
+
+No , I will not , for it boots thee not .
+
+What ?
+
+To be in love , where scorn is bought with groans ;
+Coy looks with heart-sore sighs ; one fading moment's mirth
+With twenty watchful , weary , tedious nights :
+If haply won , perhaps a hapless gain ;
+If lost , why then a grievous labour won :
+However , but a folly bought with wit ,
+Or else a wit by folly vanquished .
+
+So , by your circumstance , you call me fool .
+
+So , by your circumstance , I fear you'll prove .
+
+'Tis love you cavil at : I am not Love .
+
+Love is your master , for he masters you ;
+And he that is so yoked by a fool ,
+Methinks , should not be chronicled for wise .
+
+Yet writers say , as in the sweetest bud
+The eating canker dwells , so eating love
+Inhabits in the finest wits of all .
+
+And writers say , as the most forward bud
+Is eaten by the canker ere it blow ,
+Even so by love the young and tender wit
+Is turned to folly ; blasting in the bud ,
+Losing his verdure even in the prime ,
+And all the fair effects of future hopes .
+But wherefore waste I time to counsel thee
+That art a votary to fond desire ?
+Once more adieu ! my father at the road
+Expects my coming , there to see me shipp'd .
+
+And thither will I bring thee , Valentine .
+
+Sweet Proteus , no ; now let us take our leave .
+To Milan let me hear from thee by letters
+Of thy success in love , and what news else
+Betideth here in absence of thy friend ;
+And I likewise will visit thee with mine .
+
+All happiness bechance to thee in Milan !
+
+As much to you at home ! and so , farewell .
+
+
+He after honour hunts , I after love :
+He leaves his friends to dignify them more ;
+I leave myself , my friends and all , for love .
+Thou , Julia , thou hast metamorphos'd me ;
+Made me neglect my studies , lose my time ,
+War with good counsel , set the world at nought ;
+Made wit with musing weak , heart sick with thought .
+
+
+Sir Proteus , save you ! Saw you my master ?
+
+But now he parted hence , to embark for Milan .
+
+Twenty to one , then , he is shipp'd already ,
+And I have play'd the sheep , in losing him .
+
+Indeed , a sheep doth very often stray ,
+An if the shepherd be a while away .
+
+You conclude that my master is a shepherd , then , and I a sheep ?
+
+I do .
+
+Why then my horns are his horns , whether I wake or sleep .
+
+A silly answer , and fitting well a sheep .
+
+This proves me still a sheep .
+
+True , and thy master a shepherd .
+
+Nay , that I can deny by a circumstance .
+
+It shall go hard but I'll prove it by another .
+
+The shepherd seeks the sheep , and not the sheep the shepherd ; but I seek my master , and my master seeks not me : therefore I am no sheep .
+
+The sheep for fodder follow the shepherd , the shepherd for food follows not the sheep ; thou for wages followest thy master , thy master for wages follows not thee : therefore thou art a sheep .
+
+Such another proof will make me cry 'baa .'
+
+But , dost thou hear ? gavest thou my letter to Julia ?
+
+Ay , sir : I , a lost mutton , gave your letter to her , a laced mutton ; and she , a laced mutton , gave me , a lost mutton , nothing for my labour .
+
+Here's too small a pasture for such store of muttons .
+
+If the ground be overcharged , you were best stick her .
+
+Nay , in that you are astray ; 'twere best pound you .
+
+Nay , sir , less than a pound shall serve me for carrying your letter .
+
+You mistake : I mean the pound ,a pinfold .
+
+From a pound to a pin ? fold it over and over ,
+'Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to your lover .
+
+But what said she ?
+
+Did she nod ?
+
+Ay .
+
+Nod , ay ? why , that's noddy .
+
+You mistook , sir : I say she did nod ; and you ask me if she did nod ; and I say , Ay .
+
+And that set together is noddy .
+
+Now you have taken the pains to set it together , take it for your pains .
+
+No , no ; you shall have it for bearing the letter .
+
+Well , I perceive I must be fain to bear with you .
+
+Why , sir , how do you bear with me ?
+
+Marry , sir , the letter very orderly ; having nothing but the word 'noddy' for my pains .
+
+Beshrew me , but you have a quick wit .
+
+And yet it cannot overtake your slow purse .
+
+Come , come ; open the matter in brief : what said she ?
+
+Open your purse , that the money and the matter may be both at once delivered .
+
+Well , sir , here is for your pains
+
+What said she ?
+
+Truly , sir , I think you'll hardly win her .
+
+Why ? couldst thou perceive so much from her ?
+
+Sir , I could perceive nothing at all from her ; no , not so much as a ducat for delivering your letter . And being so hard to me that brought your mind , I fear she'll prove as hard to you in telling your mind . Give her no token but stones , for she's as hard as steel .
+
+What ! said she nothing ?
+
+No , not so much as 'Take this for thy pains .' To testify your bounty , I thank you , you have testerned me ; in requital whereof , henceforth carry your letters yourself . And so , sir , I'll commend you to my master .
+
+Go , go , be gone , to save your ship from wrack ;
+Which cannot perish , having thee aboard ,
+Being destin'd to a drier death on shore .
+
+I must go send some better messenger :
+I fear my Julia would not deign my lines ,
+Receiving them from such a worthless post .
+
+
+But say , Lucetta , now we are alone ,
+Wouldst thou then counsel me to fall in love ?
+
+Ay , madam , so you stumble not unheedfully .
+
+Of all the fair resort of gentlemen
+That every day with parle encounter me ,
+In thy opinion which is worthiest love ?
+
+Please you repeat their names , I'll show my mind
+According to my shallow simple skill .
+
+What think'st thou of the fair Sir Eglamour ?
+
+As of a knight well-spoken , neat and fine ;
+But , were I you , he never should be mine .
+
+What think'st thou of the rich Mercatio ?
+
+Well of his wealth ; but of himself , so so .
+
+What think'st thou of the gentle Proteus ?
+
+Lord , Lord ! to see what folly reigns in us !
+
+How now ! what means this passion at his name ?
+
+Pardon , dear madam ; 'tis a passing shame
+That I , unworthy body as I am ,
+Should censure thus on lovely gentlemen .
+
+Why not on Proteus , as of all the rest ?
+
+Then thus ,of many good I think him best .
+
+Your reason ?
+
+I have no other but a woman's reason :
+I think him so because I think him so .
+
+And wouldst thou have me cast my love on him ?
+
+Ay , if you thought your love not cast away .
+
+Why , he , of all the rest hath never mov'd me .
+
+Yet he of all the rest , I think , best loves ye .
+
+His little speaking shows his love but small .
+
+Fire that's closest kept burns most of all .
+
+They do not love that do not show their love .
+
+O ! they love least that let men know their love .
+
+I would I knew his mind .
+
+Peruse this paper , madam .
+
+
+'To Julia .' Say from whom ?
+
+That the contents will show .
+
+Say , say , who gave it thee ?
+
+Sir Valentine's page , and sent , I think , from Proteus .
+He would have given it you , but I , being in the way ,
+Did in your name receive it ; pardon the fault , I pray .
+
+Now , by my modesty , a goodly broker !
+Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines ?
+To whisper and conspire against my youth ?
+Now , trust me , 'tis an office of great worth
+And you an officer fit for the place .
+There , take the paper : see it be return'd ;
+Or else return no more into my sight .
+
+To plead for love deserves more fee than hate .
+
+Will ye be gone ?
+
+That you may ruminate .
+
+
+And yet I would I had o'erlook'd the letter .
+It were a shame to call her back again
+And pray her to a fault for which I chid her .
+What fool is she , that knows I am a maid ,
+And would not force the letter to my view !
+Since maids , in modesty , say 'No' to that
+Which they would have the profferer construe 'Ay .'
+Fie , fie ! how wayward is this foolish love
+That , like a testy babe , will scratch the nurse
+And presently all humbled kiss the rod !
+How churlishly I child Lucetta hence ,
+When willingly I would have had her here :
+How angerly I taught my brow to frown ,
+When inward joy enforc'd my heart to smile .
+My penance is , to call Lucetta back
+And ask remission for my folly past .
+What ho ! Lucetta !
+
+
+What would your ladyship ?
+
+Is it near dinner-time ?
+
+I would it were ;
+That you might kill your stomach on your meat
+And not upon your maid .
+
+What is't that you took up so gingerly ?
+
+Nothing .
+
+Why didst thou stoop , then ?
+
+To take a paper up
+That I let fall .
+
+And is that paper nothing ?
+
+Nothing concerning me .
+
+Then let it lie for those that it concerns .
+
+Madam , it will not lie where it concerns ,
+Unless it have a false interpreter .
+
+Some love of yours hath writ to you in rime .
+
+That I might sing it , madam , to a tune :
+Give me a note : your ladyship can set .
+
+As little by such toys as may be possible ;
+Best sing it to the tune of 'Light o' Love .'
+
+It is too heavy for so light a tune .
+
+Heavy ! belike it hath some burden , then ?
+
+Ay ; and melodious were it , would you sing it .
+
+And why not you ?
+
+I cannot reach so high .
+
+Let's see your song .
+
+How now , minion !
+
+Keep tune there still , so you will sing it out :
+And yet methinks , I do not like this tune .
+
+You do not ?
+
+No , madam ; it is too sharp .
+
+You , minion , are too saucy .
+
+Nay , now you are too flat
+And mar the concord with too harsh a descant :
+There wanteth but a mean to fill your song .
+
+The mean is drown'd with your unruly bass .
+
+Indeed , I bid the base for Proteus .
+
+This babble shall not henceforth trouble me .
+Here is a coil with protestation !
+
+Go , get you gone , and let the papers lie :
+You would be fingering them , to anger me .
+
+She makes it strange ; but she would be best pleas'd
+To be so anger'd with another letter .
+
+
+Nay , would I were so anger'd with the same !
+O hateful hands , to tear such loving words !
+Injurious wasps , to feed on such sweet honey
+And kill the bees that yield it with your stings !
+I'll kiss each several paper for amends .
+Look , here is writ 'kind Julia :' unkind Julia !
+As in revenge of thy ingratitude ,
+I throw thy name against the bruising stones ,
+Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain .
+And here is writ 'love-wounded Proteus :'
+Poor wounded name ! my bosom , as a bed
+Shall lodge thee till thy wound be throughly heal'd ;
+And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss .
+But twice or thrice was 'Proteus' written down :
+Be calm , good wind , blow not a word away
+Till I have found each letter in the letter ,
+Except mine own name ; that some whirlwind bear
+Unto a ragged , fearful hanging rock ,
+And throw it thence into the raging sea !
+Lo ! here in one line is his name twice writ ,
+'Poor forlorn Proteus , passionate Proteus ,
+To the sweet Julia' :that I'll tear away ;
+And yet I will not , sith so prettily
+He couples it to his complaining names :
+Thus will I fold them one upon another :
+Now kiss , embrace , contend , do what you will .
+
+
+Madam ,
+Dinner is ready , and your father stays .
+
+Well , let us go .
+
+What ! shall these papers he like tell-tales here ?
+
+If you respect them , best to take them up .
+
+Nay , I was taken up for laying them down ;
+Yet here they shall not lie , for catching cold .
+
+I see you have a month's mind to them .
+
+Ay , madam , you may say what sights you see ;
+I see things too , although you judge I wink .
+
+Come , come ; will't please you go ?
+
+
+Tell me , Panthino , what sad talk was that
+Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister ?
+
+'Twas of his nephew Proteus , your son .
+
+Why , what of him ?
+
+He wonder'd that your lordship
+Would suffer him to spend his youth at home ,
+While other men , of slender reputation ,
+Put forth their sons to seek preferment out :
+Some to the wars , to try their fortune there ;
+Some to discover islands far away ;
+Some to the studious universities .
+For any or for all these exercises
+He said that Proteus your son was meet ,
+And did request me to importune you
+To let him spend his time no more at home ,
+Which would be great impeachment to his age ,
+In having known to travel in his youth .
+
+Nor need'st thou much importune me to that
+Whereon this month I have been hammering .
+I have consider'd well his loss of time ,
+And how he cannot be a perfect man ,
+Not being tried and tutor'd in the world :
+Experience is by industry achiev'd
+And perfected by the swift course of time .
+Then tell me , whither were I best to send him ?
+
+I think your lordship is not ignorant
+How his companion , youthful Valentine ,
+Attends the emperor in his royal court .
+
+I know it well .
+
+'Twere good , I think , your lordship sent him thither :
+There shall be practise tilts and tournaments ,
+Hear sweet discourse , converse with noblemen ,
+And be in eye of every exercise
+Worthy his youth and nobleness of birth .
+
+I like thy counsel , well hast thou advis'd :
+And that thou mayst perceive how well I like it
+The execution of it shall make known .
+Even with the speediest expedition
+I will dispatch him to the emperor's court .
+
+To-morrow , may it please you , Don Alphonso
+With other gentlemen of good esteem ,
+Are journeying to salute the emperor
+And to commend their service to his will .
+
+Good company ; with them shall Proteus go :
+And in good time :now will we break with him .
+
+
+Sweet love ! sweet lines ! sweet life !
+Here is her hand , the agent of her heart ;
+Here is her oath for love , her honour's pawn .
+O ! that our fathers would applaud our loves ,
+To seal our happiness with their consents !
+O heavenly Julia !
+
+How now ! what letter are you reading there ?
+
+May't please your lordship , 'tis a word or two
+Of commendations sent from Valentine ,
+Deliver'd by a friend that came from him .
+
+Lend me the letter ; let me see what news .
+
+There is no news , my lord ; but that he writes
+How happily he lives , how well belov'd
+And daily graced by the emperor ;
+Wishing me with him , partner of his fortune .
+
+And how stand you affected to his wish ?
+
+As one relying on your lordship's will
+And not depending on his friendly wish .
+
+My will is something sorted with his wish .
+Muse not that I thus suddenly proceed ;
+For what I will , I will , and there an end .
+I am resolv'd that thou shalt spend some time
+With Valentinus in the emperor's court :
+What maintenance he from his friends receives ,
+Like exhibition thou shalt have from me .
+To-morrow be in readiness to go :
+Excuse it not , for I am peremptory .
+
+My lord , I cannot be so soon provided :
+Please you , deliberate a day or two .
+
+Look , what thou want'st shall be sent after thee :
+No more of stay ; to-morrow thou must go .
+Come on , Panthino : you shall be employ'd
+To hasten on his expedition .
+
+
+Thus have I shunn'd the fire for fear of burning ,
+And drench'd me in the sea , where I am drown'd .
+I fear'd to show my father Julia's letter ,
+Lest he should take exceptions to my love ;
+And with the vantage of mine own excuse
+Hath he excepted most against my love .
+O ! how this spring of love resembleth
+The uncertain glory of an April day ,
+Which now shows all the beauty of the sun ,
+And by and by a cloud takes all away !
+
+
+Sir Proteus , your father calls for you :
+He is in haste ; therefore , I pray you , go .
+
+Why , this it is : my heart accords thereto ,
+And yet a thousand times it answers , 'no .'
+
+Sir , your glove .
+
+
+Not mine ; my gloves are on .
+
+Why , then this may be yours , for this is but one .
+
+Ha ! let me see : ay , give it me , it's mine ;
+Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine !
+Ah Silvia ! Silvia !
+
+Madam Silvia ! Madam Silvia !
+
+How now , sirrah ?
+
+She is not within hearing , sir .
+
+Why , sir , who bade you call her ?
+
+Your worship , sir ; or else I mistook .
+
+Well , you'll still be too forward .
+
+And yet I was last chidden for being too slow .
+
+Go to , sir . Tell me , do you know Madam Silvia ?
+
+She that your worship loves ?
+
+Why , how know you that I am in love ?
+
+Marry , by these special marks : first , you have learned , like Sir Proteus , to wreathe your arms , like a malecontent ; to relish a love-song , like a robin-redbreast ; to walk alone , like one that had the pestilence ; to sigh , like a schoolboy that had lost his A B C ; to weep , like a young wench that had buried her grandam ; to fast , like one that takes diet ; to watch , like one that fears robbing ; to speak puling , like a beggar at Hallowmas . You were wont , when you laughed , to crow like a cock ; when you walked , to walk like one of the lions ; when you fasted , it was presently after dinner ; when you looked sadly , it was for want of money : and now you are metamorphosed with a mistress , that , when I look on you , I can hardly think you my master .
+
+Are all these things perceived in me ?
+
+They are all perceived without ye .
+
+Without me ? they cannot .
+
+Without you ? nay , that's certain ; for , without you were so simple , none else would : but you are so without these follies , that these follies are within you and shine through you like the water in an urinal , that not an eye that sees you but is a physician to comment on your malady .
+
+But tell me , dost thou know my lady Silvia ?
+
+She that you gaze on so as she sits at supper ?
+
+Hast thou observed that ? even she , I mean .
+
+Why , sir , I know her not .
+
+Dost thou know her by my gazing on her , and yet knowest her not ?
+
+Is she not hard-favoured , sir ?
+
+Not so fair , boy , as well-favoured .
+
+Sir , I know that well enough .
+
+What dost thou know ?
+
+That she is not so fair , as , of you , well-favoured .
+
+I mean that her beauty is exquisite , but her favour infinite .
+
+That's because the one is painted and the other out of all count .
+
+How painted ? and how out of count ?
+
+Marry , sir , so painted to make her fair , that no man counts of her beauty .
+
+How esteemest thou me ? I account of her beauty .
+
+You never saw her since she was deformed .
+
+How long hath she been deformed ?
+
+Ever since you loved her .
+
+I have loved her ever since I saw her , and still I see her beautiful .
+
+If you love her you cannot see her .
+
+Why ?
+
+Because Love is blind . O ! that you had mine eyes ; or your own eyes had the lights they were wont to have when you chid at Sir Proteus for going ungartered !
+
+What should I see then ?
+
+Your own present folly and her passing deformity : for he , being in love , could not see to garter his hose ; and you , being in love , cannot see to put on your hose .
+
+Belike , boy , then , you are in love ; for last morning you could not see to wipe my shoes .
+
+True , sir ; I was in love with my bed . I thank you , you swinged me for my love , which makes me the bolder to chide you for yours .
+
+In conclusion , I stand affected to her .
+
+I would you were set , so your affection would cease .
+
+Last night she enjoined me to write some lines to one she loves .
+
+And have you ?
+
+I have .
+
+Are they not lamely writ ?
+
+No , boy , but as well as I can do them .
+Peace ! here she comes .
+
+
+O excellent motion ! O exceeding puppet ! now will he interpret to her .
+
+Madam and mistress , a thousand good morrows .
+
+O ! give ye good even : here's a million of manners .
+
+Sir Valentine and servant , to you two thousand .
+
+He should give her interest , and she gives it him .
+
+As you enjoin'd me , I have writ your letter
+Unto the secret nameless friend of yours ;
+Which I was much unwilling to proceed in
+But for my duty to your ladyship .
+
+
+I thank you , gentle servant . 'Tis very clerkly done .
+
+Now , trust me , madam , it came hardly off ;
+For , being ignorant to whom it goes
+I writ at random , very doubtfully .
+
+Perchance you think too much of so much pains ?
+
+No , madam ; so it stead you , I will write ,
+Please you command , a thousand times as much .
+And yet
+
+A pretty period ! Well , I guess the sequel ;
+And yet I will not name it ; and yet I care not ;
+And yet take this again ; and yet I thank you ,
+Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more .
+
+And yet you will ; and yet another yet .
+
+What means your ladyship ? do you not like it ?
+
+Yes , yes : the lines are very quaintly writ ,
+But since unwillingly , take them again :
+Nay , take them .
+
+
+Madam , they are for you .
+
+Ay , ay ; you writ them , sir , at my request ,
+But I will none of them ; they are for you .
+I would have had them writ more movingly .
+
+Please you , I'll write your ladyship another .
+
+And when it's writ , for my sake read it over :
+And if it please you , so ; if not , why , so .
+
+If it please me , madam , what then ?
+
+Why , if it please you , take it for your labour :
+And so , good morrow , servant .
+
+
+O jest unseen , inscrutable , invisible ,
+As a nose on a man's face , or a weathercock on a steeple !
+My master sues to her , and she hath taught her suitor ,
+He being her pupil , to become her tutor .
+O excellent device ! was there ever heard a better ,
+That my master , being scribe , to himself should write the letter ?
+
+How now , sir ! what are you reasoning with yourself ?
+
+Nay , I was riming : 'tis you that have the reason .
+
+To do what ?
+
+To be a spokesman from Madam Silvia .
+
+To whom ?
+
+To yourself . Why , she wooes you by a figure .
+
+What figure ?
+
+By a letter , I should say .
+
+Why , she hath not writ to me ?
+
+What need she , when she hath made you write to yourself ? Why , do you not perceive the jest ?
+
+No , believe me .
+
+No believing you , indeed , sir . But did you perceive her earnest ?
+
+She gave me none , except an angry word .
+
+Why , she hath given you a letter .
+
+That's the letter I writ to her friend .
+
+And that letter hath she delivered , and there an end .
+
+I would it were no worse .
+
+I'll warrant you , 'tis as well :
+'For often have you writ to her , and she , in modesty ,
+Or else for want of idle time , could not again reply ;
+Or fearing else some messenger that might her mind discover ,
+Herself hath taught her love himself to write unto her lover .'
+All this I speak in print , for in print I found it .
+Why muse you , sir ? 'tis dinner-time .
+
+I have dined .
+
+Ay , but hearken , sir : though the chameleon Love can feed on the air , I am one that am nourished by my victuals and would fain have meat . O ! be not like your mistress : be moved , be moved .
+
+
+Have patience , gentle Julia .
+
+I must , where is no remedy .
+
+When possibly I can , I will return .
+
+If you turn not , you will return the sooner .
+Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's sake .
+
+
+Why , then , we'll make exchange : here , take you this .
+
+
+And seal the bargain with a holy kiss .
+
+Here is my hand for my true constancy ;
+And when that hour o'erslips me in the day
+Wherein I sigh not , Julia , for thy sake ,
+The next ensuing hour some foul mischance
+Torment me for my love's forgetfulness !
+My father stays my coming ; answer not .
+The tide is now : nay , not thy tide of tears ;
+That tide will stay me longer than I should .
+Julia , farewell .
+
+What ! gone without a word ?
+Ay , so true love should do : it cannot speak ;
+For truth hath better deeds than words to grace it .
+
+
+Sir Proteus , you are stay'd for .
+
+Go ; I come , I come .
+Alas ! this parting strikes poor lovers dumb .
+
+
+Nay , 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping : all the kind of the Launces have this very fault . I have received my proportion , like the prodigious son , and am going with Sir Proteus to the imperial's court . I think Crab my dog be the sourest-natured dog that lives : my mother weeping , my father wailing , my sister crying , our maid howling , our cat wringing her hands , and all our house in a great perplexity , yet did not this cruel-hearted cur shed one tear . He is a stone , a very pebble stone , and has no more pity in him than a dog ; a Jew would have wept to have seen our parting : why , my grandam , having no eyes , look you , wept herself blind at my parting . Nay , I'll show you the manner of it . This shoe is my father ; no , this left shoe is my father : no , no , this left shoe is my mother ; nay , that cannot be so neither :yes , it is so ; it is so ; it hath the worser sole . This shoe , with the hole in , is my mother , and this my father . A vengeance on't ! there 'tis : now , sir , this staff is my sister ; for , look you , she is as white as a lily and as small as a wand : this hat is Nan , our maid : I am the dog ; no , the dog is himself , and I am the dog ,O ! the dog is me , and I am myself : ay , so , so . Now come I to my father ; 'Father , your blessing ;' now should not the shoe speak a word for weeping : now should I kiss my father ; well , he weeps on . Now come I to my mother ;O , that she could speak now like a wood woman ! Well , I kiss her ; why , there 'tis ; here's my mother's breath up and down . Now come I to my sister ; mark the moan she makes : Now the dog all this while sheds not a tear nor speaks a word ; but see how I lay the dust with my tears .
+
+
+Launce , away , away , aboard ! thy master is shipped , and thou art to post after with oars . What's the matter ? why weepest thou , man ? Away , ass ! you'll lose the tide if you tarry any longer .
+
+It is no matter if the tied were lost ; for it is the unkindest tied that ever any man tied .
+
+What's the unkindest tide ?
+
+Why , he that's tied here , Crab , my dog .
+
+Tut , man , I mean thou'lt lose the flood ; and , in losing the flood , lose thy voyage , and , in losing thy voyage , lose thy master ; and , in losing thy master , lose thy service ; and , in losing thy service ,Why dost thou stop my mouth ?
+
+For fear thou shouldst lose thy tongue .
+
+Where should I lose my tongue ?
+
+In thy tale .
+
+In thy tail !
+
+Lose the tide , and the voyage , and the master , and the service , and the tied ! Why , man , if the river were dry , I am able to fill it with my tears ; if the wind were down , I could drive the boat with my sighs .
+
+Come , come away , man ; I was sent to call thee .
+
+Sir , call me what thou darest .
+
+Wilt thou go ?
+
+Well , I will go .
+
+
+Servant !
+
+Mistress ?
+
+Master , Sir Thurio frowns on you .
+
+Ay , boy , it's for love .
+
+Not of you .
+
+Of my mistress , then .
+
+'Twere good you knock'd him .
+
+Servant , you are sad .
+
+Indeed , madam , I seem so .
+
+Seem you that you are not ?
+
+Haply I do .
+
+So do counterfeits .
+
+So do you .
+
+What seem I that I am not ?
+
+Wise .
+
+What instance of the contrary ?
+
+Your folly .
+
+And how quote you my folly ?
+
+I quote it in your jerkin .
+
+My jerkin is a doublet .
+
+Well , then , I'll double your folly .
+
+How ?
+
+What , angry , Sir Thurio ! do you change colour ?
+
+Give him leave , madam ; he is a kind of chameleon .
+
+That hath more mind to feed on your blood than live in your air .
+
+You have said , sir .
+
+Ay , sir , and done too , for this time .
+
+I know it well , sir : you always end ere you begin .
+
+A fine volley of words , gentlemen , and quickly shot off .
+
+'Tis indeed , madam ; we thank the giver .
+
+Who is that , servant ?
+
+Yourself , sweet lady ; for you gave the fire . Sir Thurio borrows his wit from your ladyship's looks , and spends what he borrows kindly in your company .
+
+Sir , if you spend word for word with me , I shall make your wit bankrupt .
+
+I know it well , sir : you have an exchequer of words , and , I think , no other treasure to give your followers ; for it appears by their bare liveries that they live by your bare words .
+
+No more , gentlemen , no more . Here comes my father .
+
+
+Now , daughter Silvia , you are hard beset .
+Sir Valentine , your father's in good health :
+What say you to a letter from your friends
+Of much good news ?
+
+My lord , I will be thankful
+To any happy messenger from thence .
+
+Know ye Don Antonio , your countryman ?
+
+Ay , my good lord ; I know the gentleman
+To be of worth and worthy estimation ,
+And not without desert so well reputed .
+
+Hath he not a son ?
+
+Ay , my good lord ; a son that well deserves
+The honour and regard of such a father .
+
+You know him well ?
+
+I know him as myself ; for from our infancy
+We have convers'd and spent our hours together :
+And though myself have been an idle truant ,
+Omitting the sweet benefit of time
+To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection ,
+Yet hath Sir Proteus ,for that's his name ,
+Made use and fair advantage of his days :
+His years but young , but his experience old ;
+His head unmellow'd , but his judgment ripe ;
+And , in a word ,for far behind his worth
+Come all the praises that I now bestow ,
+He is complete in feature and in mind
+With all good grace to grace a gentleman .
+
+Beshrew me , sir , but if he make this good ,
+He is as worthy for an empress' love
+As meet to be an emperor's counsellor .
+Well , sir , this gentleman is come to me
+With commendation from great potentates ;
+And here he means to spend his time awhile :
+I think , 'tis no unwelcome news to you .
+
+Should I have wish'd a thing , it had been he .
+
+Welcome him then according to his worth .
+Silvia , I speak to you ; and you , Sir Thurio :
+For Valentine , I need not cite him to it .
+I'll send him hither to you presently .
+
+
+This is the gentleman I told your ladyship
+Had come along with me , but that his mistress
+Did hold his eyes lock'd in her crystal looks .
+
+Belike that now she hath enfranchis'd them
+Upon some other pawn for fealty .
+
+Nay , sure , I think she holds them prisoners still .
+
+Nay , then he should be blind ; and , being blind ,
+How could he see his way to seek out you ?
+
+Why , lady , Love hath twenty pairs of eyes .
+
+They say that Love hath not an eye at all .
+
+To see such lovers , Thurio , as yourself :
+Upon a homely object Love can wink .
+
+Have done , have done . Here comes the gentleman .
+
+
+Welcome , dear Proteus ! Mistress , I beseech you ,
+Confirm his welcome with some special favour .
+
+His worth is warrant for his welcome hither ,
+If this be he you oft have wish'd to hear from .
+
+Mistress , it is : sweet lady , entertain him
+To be my fellow-servant to your ladyship .
+
+Too low a mistress for so high a servant .
+
+Not so , sweet lady ; but too mean a servant
+To have a look of such a worthy mistress .
+
+Leave off discourse of disability :
+Sweet lady , entertain him for your servant .
+
+My duty will I boast of , nothing else .
+
+And duty never yet did want his meed .
+Servant , you are welcome to a worthless mistress .
+
+I'll die on him that says so but yourself .
+
+That you are welcome ?
+
+That you are worthless .
+
+
+Madam , my lord your father would speak with you .
+
+I wait upon his pleasure .
+
+Come , Sir Thurio ,
+Go with me . Once more , new servant , welcome :
+I'll leave you to confer of home-affairs ;
+When you have done , we look to hear from you .
+
+We'll both attend upon your ladyship .
+
+
+Now , tell me , how do all from whence you came ?
+
+Your friends are well and have them much commended .
+
+And how do yours ?
+
+I left them all in health .
+
+How does your lady and how thrives your love ?
+
+My tales of love were wont to weary you ;
+I know you joy not in a love-discourse .
+
+Ay , Proteus , but that life is alter'd now :
+I have done penance for contemning love ;
+Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd me
+With bitter fasts , with penitential groans ,
+With nightly tears and daily heart-sore sighs ;
+For , in revenge of my contempt of love ,
+Love hath chas'd sleep from my enthralled eyes ,
+And made them watchers of mine own heart's sorrow .
+O , gentle Proteus ! Love's a mighty lord ,
+And hath so humbled me as I confess ,
+There is no woe to his correction ,
+Nor to his service no such joy on earth .
+Now no discourse , except it be of love ;
+Now can I break my fast , dine , sup and sleep ,
+Upon the very naked name of love .
+
+Enough ; I read your fortune in your eye .
+Was this the idol that you worship so ?
+
+Even she ; and is she not a heavenly saint ?
+
+No ; but she is an earthly paragon .
+
+Call her divine .
+
+I will not flatter her .
+
+O ! flatter me , for love delights in praises .
+
+When I was sick you gave me bitter pills ,
+And I must minister the like to you .
+
+Then speak the truth by her ; if not divine ,
+Yet let her be a principality ,
+Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth .
+
+Except my mistress .
+
+Sweet , except not any ,
+Except thou wilt except against my love .
+
+Have I not reason to prefer mine own ?
+
+And I will help thee to prefer her too :
+She shall be dignified with this high honour ,
+To bear my lady's train , lest the base earth
+Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss ,
+And , of so great a favour growing proud ,
+Disdain to root the summer-swelling flower ,
+And make rough winter everlastingly .
+
+Why , Valentine , what braggardism is this ?
+
+Pardon me , Proteus : all I can is nothing
+To her whose worth makes other worthies nothing .
+She is alone .
+
+Then , let her alone .
+
+Not for the world : why , man , she is mine own ,
+And I as rich in having such a jewel
+As twenty seas , if all their sand were pearl ,
+The water nectar , and the rocks pure gold .
+Forgive me that I do not dream on thee ,
+Because thou see'st me dote upon my love .
+My foolish rival , that her father likes
+Only for his possessions are so huge ,
+Is gone with her along , and I must after ,
+For love , thou know'st , is full of jealousy .
+
+But she loves you ?
+
+Ay , and we are betroth'd : nay , more , our marriage-hour ,
+With all the cunning manner of our flight ,
+Determin'd of : how I must climb her window ,
+The ladder made of cords , and all the means
+Plotted and 'greed on for my happiness .
+Good Proteus , go with me to my chamber ,
+In these affairs to aid me with thy counsel .
+
+Go on before , I shall inquire you forth :
+I must unto the road , to disembark
+Some necessaries that I needs must use ,
+And then I'll presently attend you .
+
+Will you make haste ?
+
+I will .
+
+Even as one heat another heat expels ,
+Or as one nail by strength drives out another ,
+So the remembrance of my former love
+Is by a newer object quite forgotten .
+Is it mine eye , or Valentinus' praise ,
+Her true perfection , or my false transgression ,
+That makes me reasonless to reason thus ?
+She's fair ; and so is Julia that I love ,
+That I did love , for now my love is thaw'd ,
+Which , like a waxen image 'gainst a fire ,
+Bears no impression of the thing it was .
+Methinks my zeal to Valentine is cold ,
+And that I love him not as I was wont :
+O ! but I love his lady too-too much ;
+And that's the reason I love him so little .
+How shall I dote on her with more advice ,
+That thus without advice begin to love her ?
+'Tis but her picture I have yet beheld ,
+And that hath dazzled my reason's light ;
+But when I look on her perfections ,
+There is no reason but I shall be blind .
+If I can check my erring love , I will ;
+If not , to compass her I'll use my skill .
+
+
+Launce ! by mine honesty , welcome to Milan !
+
+Forswear not thyself , sweet youth , for I am not welcome . I reckon this always that a man is never undone till he be hanged ; nor never welcome to a place till some certain shot be paid and the hostess say , 'Welcome !'
+
+Come on , you madcap , I'll to the alehouse with you presently ; where , for one shot of five pence , thou shalt have five thousand welcomes . But , sirrah , how did thy master part with Madam Julia ?
+
+Marry , after they closed in earnest , they parted very fairly in jest .
+
+But shall she marry him ?
+
+No .
+
+How then ? Shall he marry her ?
+
+No , neither .
+
+What , are they broken ?
+
+No , they are both as whole as a fish .
+
+Why then , how stands the matter with them ?
+
+Marry , thus ; when it stands well with him , it stands well with her .
+
+What an ass art thou ! I understand thee not .
+
+What a block art thou , that thou canst not ! My staff understands me .
+
+What thou sayest ?
+
+Ay , and what I do too : look thee , I'll but lean , and my staff understands me .
+
+It stands under thee , indeed .
+
+Why , stand-under and under-stand is all one .
+
+But tell me true , will't be a match ?
+
+Ask my dog : if he say ay , it will ; if he say no , it will ; if he shake his tail and say nothing , it will .
+
+The conclusion is , then , that it will .
+
+Thou shalt never get such a secret from me but by a parable .
+
+'Tis well that I get it so . But , Launce , how sayest thou , that my master is become a notable lover ?
+
+I never knew him otherwise .
+
+Than how ?
+
+A notable lubber , as thou reportest him to be .
+
+Why , thou whoreson ass , thou mistakest me .
+
+Why , fool , I meant not thee ; I meant thy master .
+
+I tell thee , my master is become a hot lover .
+
+Why , I tell thee , I care not though he burn himself in love . If thou wilt go with me to the alehouse so ; if not , thou art a Hebrew , a Jew , and not worth the name of a Christian .
+
+Why ?
+
+Because thou hast not so much charity in thee as to go to the ale with a Christian . Wilt thou go ?
+
+At thy service .
+
+
+To leave my Julia , shall I be forsworn ;
+To love fair Silvia , shall I be forsworn ;
+To wrong my friend , I shall be much forsworn ;
+And even that power which gave me first my oath
+Provokes me to this threefold perjury :
+Love bade me swear , and Love bids me forswear .
+O sweet-suggesting Love ! if thou hast sinn'd ,
+Teach me , thy tempted subject , to excuse it .
+At first I did adore a twinkling star ,
+But now I worship a celestial sun .
+Unheedful vows may heedfully be broken ;
+And he wants wit that wants resolved will
+To learn his wit to exchange the bad for better .
+Fie , fie , unreverend tongue ! to call her bad ,
+Whose sovereignty so oft thou hast preferr'd
+With twenty thousand soul-confirming oaths .
+I cannot leave to love , and yet I do ;
+But there I leave to love where I should love .
+Julia I lose and Valentine I lose :
+If I keep them , I needs must lose myself ;
+If I lose them , thus find I by their loss ,
+For Valentine , myself ; for Julia , Silvia .
+I to myself am dearer than a friend ,
+For love is still most precious in itself ;
+And Silvia witness heaven that made her fair !
+Shows Julia but a swarthy Ethiope .
+I will forget that Julia is alive ,
+Remembering that my love to her is dead ;
+And Valentine I'll hold an enemy ,
+Aiming at Silvia as a sweeter friend .
+I cannot now prove constant to myself
+Without some treachery us'd to Valentine :
+This night he meaneth with a corded ladder
+To climb celestial Silvia's chamber-window ,
+Myself in counsel , his competitor .
+Now presently , I'll give her father notice
+Of their disguising and pretended flight ;
+Who , all enrag'd , will banish Valentine ;
+For Thurio , he intends , shall wed his daughter ;
+But , Valentine being gone , I'll quickly cross ,
+By some sly trick blunt Thurio's dull proceeding .
+Love , lend me wings to make my purpose swift ,
+As thou hast lent me wit to plot this drift !
+
+
+Counsel , Lucetta ; gentle girl , assist me :
+And e'en in kind love I do conjure thee ,
+Who art the table wherein all my thoughts
+Are visibly character'd and engrav'd ,
+To lesson me and tell me some good mean
+How , with my honour , I may undertake
+A journey to my loving Proteus .
+
+Alas ! the way is wearisome and long .
+
+A true-devoted pilgrim is not weary
+To measure kingdoms with his feeble steps ;
+Much less shall she that hath Love's wings to fly ,
+And when the flight is made to one so dear ,
+Of such divine perfection , as Sir Proteus .
+
+Better forbear till Proteus make return .
+
+O ! know'st thou not his looks are my soul's food ?
+Pity the dearth that I have pined in ,
+By longing for that food so long a time .
+Didst thou but know the inly touch of love ,
+Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow
+As seek to quench the fire of love with words .
+
+I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire ,
+But qualify the fire's extreme rage ,
+Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason .
+
+The more thou damm'st it up , the more it burns .
+The current that with gentle murmur glides ,
+Thou know'st , being stopp'd , impatiently doth rage ;
+But when his fair course is not hindered ,
+He makes sweet music with th' enamell'd stones ,
+Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge
+He overtaketh in his pilgrimage ;
+And so by many winding nooks he strays
+With willing sport , to the wild ocean .
+Then let me go and hinder not my course :
+I'll be as patient as a gentle stream
+And make a pastime of each weary step ,
+Till the last step have brought me to my love ;
+And there I'll rest , as after much turmoil
+A blessed soul doth in Elysium .
+
+But in what habit will you go along ?
+
+Not like a woman ; for I would prevent
+The loose encounters of lascivious men .
+Gentle Lucetta , fit me with such weeds
+As may beseem some well-reputed page .
+
+Why , then , your ladyship must cut your hair .
+
+No , girl ; I'll knit it up in silken strings
+With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots :
+To be fantastic may become a youth
+Of greater time than I shall show to be .
+
+What fashion , madam , shall I make your breeches ?
+
+That fits as well as 'Tell me , good my lord ,
+What compass will you wear your farthingale ?'
+Why , even what fashion thou best lik'st , Lucetta .
+
+You must needs have them with a cod-piece , madam .
+
+Out , out , Lucetta ! that will be ill-favour'd .
+
+A round hose , madam , now's not worth a pin ,
+Unless you have a cod-piece to stick pins on .
+
+Lucetta , as thou lov'st me , let me have
+What thou think'st meet and is most mannerly .
+But tell me , wench , how will the world repute me
+For undertaking so unstaid a journey ?
+I fear me , it will make me scandaliz'd .
+
+If you think so , then stay at home and go not .
+
+Nay , that I will not .
+
+Then never dream on infamy , but go .
+If Proteus like your journey when you come ,
+No matter who's displeas'd when you are gone .
+I fear me , he will scarce be pleas'd withal .
+
+That is the least , Lucetta , of my fear :
+A thousand oaths , an ocean of his tears ,
+And instances of infinite of love
+Warrant me welcome to my Proteus .
+
+All these are servants to deceitful men .
+
+Base men , that use them to so base effect ;
+But truer stars did govern Proteus' birth :
+His words are bonds , his oaths are oracles ,
+His love sincere , his thoughts immaculate ,
+His tears pure messengers sent from his heart ,
+His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth .
+
+Pray heaven he prove so when you come to him !
+
+Now , as thou lov'st me , do him not that wrong
+To bear a hard opinion of his truth :
+Only deserve my love by loving him ,
+And presently go with me to my chamber ,
+To take a note of what I stand in need of
+To furnish me upon my longing journey .
+All that is mine I leave at thy dispose ,
+My goods , my lands , my reputation ;
+Only , in lieu thereof , dispatch me hence .
+Come , answer not , but to it presently !
+I am impatient of my tarriance .
+
+Sir Thurio , give us leave , I pray , awhile ;
+We have some secrets to confer about .
+
+Now tell me , Proteus , what's your will with me ?
+
+My gracious lord , that which I would discover
+The law of friendship bids me to conceal ;
+But when I call to mind your gracious favours
+Done to me , undeserving as I am ,
+My duty pricks me on to utter that
+Which else no worldly good should draw from me .
+Know , worthy prince , Sir Valentine , my friend ,
+This night intends to steal away your daughter :
+Myself am one made privy to the plot .
+I know you have determin'd to bestow her
+On Thurio , whom your gentle daughter hates ;
+And should she thus be stol'n away from you
+It would be much vexation to your age .
+Thus , for my duty's sake , I rather chose
+To cross my friend in his intended drift ,
+Than , by concealing it , heap on your head
+A pack of sorrows which would press you down ,
+Being unprevented , to your timeless grave .
+
+Proteus , I thank thee for thine honest care ,
+Which to requite , command me while I live .
+This love of theirs myself have often seen ,
+Haply , when they have judg'd me fast asleep ,
+And oftentimes have purpos'd to forbid
+Sir Valentine her company and my court ;
+But fearing lest my jealous aim might err
+And so unworthily disgrace the man ,
+A rashness that I ever yet have shunn'd ,
+I gave him gentle looks , thereby to find
+That which thyself hast now disclos'd to me .
+And , that thou mayst perceive my fear of this ,
+Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested ,
+I nightly lodge her in an upper tower ,
+The key whereof myself have ever kept ;
+And thence she cannot be convey'd away .
+
+Know , noble lord , they have devis'd a mean
+How he her chamber-window will ascend
+And with a corded ladder fetch her down ;
+For which the youthful lover now is gone
+And this way comes he with it presently ;
+Where , if it please you , you may intercept him .
+But , good my lord , do it so cunningly
+That my discovery be not aimed at ;
+For love of you , not hate unto my friend ,
+Hath made me publisher of this pretence .
+
+Upon mine honour , he shall never know
+That I had any light from thee of this .
+
+Adieu , my lord : Sir Valentine is coming .
+
+Sir Valentine , whither away so fast ?
+
+Please it your Grace , there is a messenger
+That stays to bear my letters to my friends ,
+And I am going to deliver them .
+
+Be they of much import ?
+
+The tenour of them doth but signify
+My health and happy being at your court .
+
+Nay then , no matter : stay with me awhile ;
+I am to break with thee of some affairs
+That touch me near , wherein thou must be secret .
+'Tis not unknown to thee that I have sought
+To match my friend Sir Thurio to my daughter .
+
+I know it well , my lord ; and sure , the match
+Were rich and honourable ; besides , the gentleman
+Is full of virtue , bounty , worth , and qualities
+Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter .
+Cannot your Grace win her to fancy him ?
+
+No , trust me : she is peevish , sullen , froward ,
+Proud , disobedient , stubborn , lacking duty ;
+Neither regarding that she is my child ,
+Nor fearing me as if I were her father :
+And , may I say to thee this pride of hers ,
+Upon advice , hath drawn my love from her ;
+And , where I thought the remnant of mine age
+Should have been cherish'd by her child-like duty ,
+I now am full resolv'd to take a wife
+And turn her out to who will take her in :
+Then let her beauty be her wedding-dower ;
+For me and my possessions she esteems not .
+
+What would your Grace have me to do in this ?
+
+There is a lady of Verona here ,
+Whom I affect ; but she is nice and coy
+And nought esteems my aged eloquence :
+Now therefore , would I have thee to my tutor ,
+For long agone I have forgot to court ;
+Besides , the fashion of the time is chang'd ,
+How and which way I may bestow myself
+To be regarded in her sun-bright eye .
+
+Win her with gifts , if she respect not words :
+Dumb jewels often in their silent kind
+More than quick words do move a woman's mind .
+
+But she did scorn a present that I sent her .
+
+A woman sometime scorns what best contents her .
+Send her another ; never give her o'er ,
+For scorn at first makes after-love the more .
+If she do frown , 'tis not in hate of you ,
+But rather to beget more love in you ;
+If she do chide , 'tis not to have you gone ;
+For why the fools are mad if left alone .
+Take no repulse , whatever she doth say ;
+For , 'get you gone ,' she doth not mean , 'away !'
+Flatter and praise , commend , extol their graces ;
+Though ne'er so black , say they have angels' faces .
+That man that hath a tongue , I say , is no man ,
+If with his tongue he cannot win a woman .
+
+But she I mean is promis'd by her friends
+Unto a youthful gentleman of worth ,
+And kept severely from resort of men ,
+That no man hath access by day to her .
+
+Why then , I would resort to her by night .
+
+Ay , but the doors be lock'd and keys kept safe ,
+That no man hath recourse to her by night .
+
+What lets but one may enter at her window ?
+
+Her chamber is aloft , far from the ground ,
+And built so shelving that one cannot climb it
+Without apparent hazard of his life .
+
+Why then , a ladder quaintly made of cords ,
+To cast up , with a pair of anchoring hooks ,
+Would serve to scale another Hero's tower ,
+So bold Leander would adventure it .
+
+Now , as thou art a gentleman of blood ,
+Advise me where I may have such a ladder .
+
+When would you use it ? pray , sir , tell me that .
+
+This very night ; for Love is like a child ,
+That longs for every thing that he can come by .
+
+By seven o'clock I'll get you such a ladder .
+
+But hark thee ; I will go to her alone :
+How shall I best convey the ladder thither ?
+
+It will be light , my lord , that you may bear it
+Under a cloak that is of any length .
+
+A cloak as long as thine will serve the turn ?
+
+Ay , my good lord .
+
+Then let me see thy cloak :
+I'll get me one of such another length .
+
+Why , any cloak will serve the turn , my lord .
+
+How shall I fashion me to wear a cloak ?
+I pray thee , let me feel thy cloak upon me .
+
+What letter is this same ? What's here ?To Silvia !
+And here an engine fit for my proceeding !
+I'll be so bold to break the seal for once .
+
+My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly ;
+And slaves they are to me that send them flying
+O ! could their master come and go as lightly ,
+Himself would lodge where senseless they are lying !
+My herald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest them ;
+While I , their king , that thither them importune ,
+Do curse the grace that with such grace hath bless'd them ,
+Because myself do want my servants' fortune :
+I curse myself , for they are sent by me ,
+That they should harbour where their lord would be .
+
+What's here ?
+
+Silvia , this night I will enfranchise thee
+
+'Tis so ; and here's the ladder for the purpose .
+Why , Phaethon ,for thou art Merops' son ,
+Wilt thou aspire to guide the heavenly car
+And with thy daring folly burn the world ?
+Wilt thou reach stars , because they shine on thee ?
+Go , basc intruder ! overweening slave !
+Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates ,
+And think my patience , more than thy desert ,
+Is privilege for thy departure hence .
+Thank me for this more than for all the favours
+Which all too much I have bestow'd on thee .
+But if thou linger in my territories
+Longer than swiftest expedition
+Will give thee time to leave our royal court ,
+By heaven ! my wrath shall far exceed the love
+I ever borc my daughter or thyself .
+Be gone ! I will not hear thy vain excuse ;
+But , as thou lov'st thy life , make speed from hence .
+
+
+And why not death rather than living torment ?
+To die is to be banish'd from myself ;
+And Silvia is myself : banish'd from her
+Is self from self ,a deadly banishment !
+What light is light , if Silvia be not seen ?
+What joy is joy , if Silvia be not by ?
+Unless it be to think that she is by
+And feed upon the shadow of perfection .
+Except I be by Silvia in the night ,
+There is no music in the nightingale ;
+Unless I look on Silvia in the day ,
+There is no day for me to look upon .
+She is my essence ; and I leave to be ,
+If I be not by her fair influence
+Foster'd , illumin'd , cherish'd , kept alive .
+I fly not death , to fly his deadly doom :
+Tarry I here , I but attend on death ;
+But , fly I hence , I fly away from life .
+
+
+Run , boy ; run , run , and seek him out .
+
+Soho ! soho !
+
+What seest thou ?
+
+Him we go to find : there's not a hair on's head but 'tis a Valentine .
+
+Valentine ?
+
+No .
+
+Who then ? his spirit ?
+
+Neither .
+
+What then ?
+
+Nothing .
+
+Can nothing speak ? Master , shall I strike ?
+
+Who would'st thou strike ?
+
+Nothing .
+
+Villain , forbear .
+
+Why , sir , I'll strike nothing : I pray you ,
+
+Sirrah , I say , forbear .Friend Valentine , a word .
+
+My ears are stopp'd and cannot hear good news ,
+So much of bad already hath possess'd them .
+
+Then in dumb silence will I bury mine ,
+For they are harsh , untuneable and bad .
+
+Is Silvia dead ?
+
+No , Valentine .
+
+No Valentine , indeed , for sacred Silvia !
+Hath she forsworn me ?
+
+No , Valentine .
+
+No Valentine , if Silvia have forsworn me !
+What is your news ?
+
+Sir , there is a proclamation that you are vanished .
+
+That thou art banished , O , that's the news ,
+From hence , from Silvia , and from me thy friend .
+
+O , I have fed upon this woe already ,
+And now excess of it will make me surfeit .
+Doth Silvia know that I am banished ?
+
+Ay , ay ; and she hath offer'd to the doom
+Which , unrevers'd , stands in effectual force
+A sea of melting pearl , which some call tears :
+Those at her father's churlish feet she tender'd ;
+With them , upon her knees , her humble self ;
+Wringing her hands , whose whiteness so became them
+As if but now they waxed pale for woe :
+But neither bended knees , pure hands held up ,
+Sad sighs , deep groans , nor silver-shedding tears ,
+Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire ;
+But Valentine , if he be ta'en , must die .
+Besides , her intercession chaf'd him so ,
+When she for thy repeal was suppliant ,
+That to close prison he commanded her ,
+With many bitter threats of biding there .
+
+No more ; unless the next word that thou speak'st
+Have some malignant power upon my life :
+If so , I pray thee , breathe it in mine ear ,
+As ending anthem of my endless dolour .
+
+Cease to lament for that thou canst not help ,
+And study help for that which thou lament'st .
+Time is the nurse and breeder of all good .
+Here if thou stay , thou canst not see thy love ;
+Besides , thy staying will abridge thy life .
+Hope is a lover's staff ; walk hence with that
+And manage it against despairing thoughts .
+Thy letters may be here , though thou art hence ;
+Which , being writ to me , shall be deliver'd
+Even in the milk-white bosom of thy love .
+The time now serves not to expostulate :
+Come , I'll convey thee through the city-gate ,
+And , ere I part with thee , confer at large
+Of all that may concern thy love-affairs .
+As thou lov'st Silvia , though not for thyself ,
+Regard thy danger , and along with me !
+
+I pray thee , Launce , and if thou seest my boy ,
+Bid him make haste and meet me at the North-gate .
+
+Go , sirrah , find him out . Come , Valentine .
+
+O my dear Silvia ! hapless Valentine !
+
+
+I am but a fool , look you ; and yet I have the wit to think my master is a kind of a knave : but that's all one , if he be but one knave . He lives not now that knows me to be in love : yet I am in love ; but a team of horse shall not pluck that from me , nor who 'tis I love ; and yet 'tis a woman ; but what woman , I will not tell myself ; and yet 'tis a milkmaid ; yet 'tis not a maid , for she hath had gossips ; yet 'tis a maid , for she is her master's maid , and serves for wages . She hath more qualities than a water-spaniel ,which is much in a bare Christian .
+
+Here is the catelog of her condition . Imprimis , She can fetch and carry . Why , a horse can do no more : nay , a horse cannot fetch , but only carry ; therefore , is she better than a jade . Item , She can milk ; look you , a sweet virtue in a maid with clean hands .
+
+
+How now , Signior Launce ! what news with your mastership ?
+
+With my master's ship ? why , it is at sea .
+
+Well , your old vice still ; mistake the word . What news , then , in your paper ?
+
+The blackest news that ever thou heardest .
+
+Why , man , how black ?
+
+Why , as black as ink .
+
+Let me read them .
+
+Fie on thee , jolthead ! thou canst not read .
+
+Thou liest ; I can .
+
+I will try thee . Tell me this : who begot thee ?
+
+Marry , the son of my grandfather .
+
+O , illiterate loiterer ! it was the son of thy grandmother . This proves that thou canst not read .
+
+Come , fool , come : try me in thy paper .
+
+There ; and Saint Nicholas be thy speed !
+
+Imprimis , She can milk .
+
+Ay , that she can .
+
+Item , She brews good ale .
+
+And thereof comes the proverb , 'Blessing of your heart , you brew good ale .'
+
+Item , She can sew .
+
+That's as much as to say , Can she so ?
+
+Item , She can knit .
+
+What need a man care for a stock with a wench , when she can knit him a stock ?
+
+Item , She can wash and scour .
+
+A special virtue ; for then she need not be washed and scoured .
+
+Item , She can spin .
+
+Then may I set the world on wheels , when she can spin for her living .
+
+Item , She hath many nameless virtues .
+
+That's as much as to say , bastard virtues ; that , indeed , know not their fathers , and therefore have no names .
+
+Here follow her vices .
+
+Close at the heels of her virtues .
+
+Item , She is not to be kissed fasting , in respect of her breath .
+
+Well , that fault may be mended with a breakfast . Read on .
+
+Item , She hath a sweet mouth .
+
+That makes amends for her sour breath .
+
+Item , She doth talk in her sleep .
+
+It's no matter for that , so she sleep not in her talk .
+
+Item , She is slow in words .
+
+O villain , that set this down among her vices ! To be slow in words is a woman's only virtue : I pray thee , out with't , and place it for her chief virtue .
+
+Item , She is proud .
+
+Out with that too : it was Eve's legacy , and cannot be ta'en from her .
+
+Item , She hath no teeth .
+
+I care not for that neither , because I love crusts .
+
+Item , She is curst .
+
+Well ; the best is , she hath no teeth to bite .
+
+Item , She will often praise her liquor .
+
+If her liquor be good , she shall : if she will not , I will ; for good things should be praised .
+
+Item , She is too liberal .
+
+Of her tongue she cannot , for that's writ down she is slow of : of her purse she shall not , for that I'll keep shut : now , of another thing she may , and that cannot I help . Well , proceed .
+
+Item , She hath more hair than wit , and more faults than hairs , and more wealth than faults .
+
+Stop there ; I'll have her : she was mine , and not mine , twice or thrice in that last article . Rehearse that once more .
+
+Item , She hath more hair than wit .
+
+More hair than wit it may be ; I'll prove it : the cover of the salt hides the salt , and therefore it is more than the salt ; the hair , that covers the wit is more than the wit , for the greater hides the less . What's next ?
+
+And more faults than hairs .
+
+That's monstrous ! O , that that were out !
+
+And more wealth than faults .
+
+Why , that word makes the faults gracious . Well , I'll have her ; and if it be a match , as nothing is impossible ,
+
+What then ?
+
+Why , then will I tell thee ,that thy master stays for thee at the North-gate .
+
+For me ?
+
+For thee ! ay ; who art thou ? he hath stayed for a better man than thee .
+
+And must I go to him ?
+
+Thou must run to him , for thou hast stayed so long that going will scarce serve the turn .
+
+Why didst not tell me sooner ? pox of your love-letters !
+
+
+Now will he be swing'd for reading my letter . An unmannerly slave , that will thrust himself into secrets . I'll after , to rejoice in the boy's correction .
+
+
+Sir Thurio , fear not but that she will love you ,
+Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight .
+
+Since his exile she hath despis'd me most ,
+Forsworn my company and rail'd at me ,
+That I am desperate of obtaining her .
+
+This weak impress of love is as a figure
+Trenched in ice , which with an hour's heat
+Dissolves to water and doth lose his form .
+A little time will melt her frozen thoughts ,
+And worthless Valentine shall be forgot .
+
+
+How now , Sir Proteus ! Is your countryman
+
+According to our proclamation gone ?
+
+Gone , my good lord .
+
+My daughter takes his going grievously .
+
+A little time , my lord , will kill that grief .
+
+So I believe ; but Thurio thinks not so .
+Proteus , the good conceit I hold of thee ,
+For thou hast shown some sign of good desert ,
+Makes me the better to confer with thee .
+
+Longer than I prove loyal to your Grace
+Let me not live to look upon your Grace .
+
+Thou know'st how willingly I would effect
+The match between Sir Thurio and my daughter .
+
+I do , my lord .
+
+And also , I think , thou art not ignorant
+How she opposes her against my will .
+
+She did , my lord , when Valentine was here .
+
+Ay , and perversely she persevers so .
+What might we do to make the girl forget
+The love of Valentine , and love Sir Thurio ?
+
+The best way is to slander Valentine
+With falsehood , cowardice , and poor descent ,
+Three things that women highly hold in hate .
+
+Ay , but she'll think that it is spoke in hate .
+
+Ay , if his enemy deliver it :
+Therefore it must with circumstance be spoken
+By one whom she esteemeth as his friend .
+
+Then you must undertake to slander him .
+
+And that , my lord , I shall be loath to do :
+'Tis an ill office for a gentleman ,
+Especially against his very friend .
+
+Where your good word cannot advantage him ,
+Your slander never can endamage him :
+Therefore the office is indifferent ,
+Being entreated to it by your friend .
+
+You have prevail'd , my lord . If I can do it ,
+By aught that I can speak in his dispraise ,
+She shall not long continue love to him .
+But say this weed her love from Valentine ,
+It follows not that she will love Sir Thurio .
+
+Therefore , as you unwind her love from him ,
+Lest it should ravel and be good to none ,
+You must provide to bottom it on me ;
+Which must be done by praising me as much
+As you in worth dispraise Sir Valentine .
+
+And , Proteus , we dare trust you in this kind ,
+Because we know , on Valentine's report ,
+You are already Love's firm votary
+And cannot soon revolt and change your mind .
+Upon this warrant shall you have access
+Where you with Silvia may confer at large ;
+For she is lumpish , heavy , melancholy ,
+And , for your friend's sake , will be glad of you ;
+Where you may temper her , by your persuasion
+To hate young Valentine and love my friend .
+
+As much as I can do I will effect .
+But you , Sir Thurio , are not sharp enough ;
+You must lay lime to tangle her desires
+By wailful sonnets , whose composed rimes
+Should be full-fraught with serviceable vows .
+
+Ay ,
+Much is the force of heaven-bred poesy .
+
+Say that upon the altar of her beauty
+You sacrifice your tears , your sighs , your heart .
+Write till your ink be dry , and with your tears
+Moist it again , and frame some feeling line
+That may discover such integrity :
+For Orpheus' lute was strung with poets' sinews ,
+Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones ,
+Make tigers tame and huge leviathans
+Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands .
+After your dire-lamenting elegies ,
+Visit by night your lady's chamber-window
+With some sweet consort : to their instruments
+Tune a deploring dump ; the night's dead silence
+Will well become such sweet-complaining grievance .
+This , or else nothing , will inherit her .
+
+This discipline shows thou hast been in love .
+
+And thy advice this night I'll put in practice .
+Therefore , sweet Proteus , my direction-giver ,
+Let us into the city presently
+To sort some gentlemen well skill'd in music .
+I have a sonnet that will serve the turn
+To give the onset to thy good advice .
+
+About it , gentlemen !
+
+We'll wait upon your grace till aftersupper ,
+And afterward determine our proceedings .
+
+Even now about it ! I will pardon you .
+
+Fellows , stand fast ; I see a passenger .
+
+If there be ten , shrink not , but down with 'em .
+
+
+Stand , sir , and throw us that you have about ye ;
+If not , we'll make you sit and rifle you .
+
+Sir , we are undone : these are the villains
+That all the travellers do fear so much .
+
+My friends ,
+
+That's not so , sir ; we are your enemies .
+
+Peace ! we'll hear him .
+
+Ay , by my beard , will we , for he is a proper man .
+
+Then know , that I have little wealth to lose .
+A man I am cross'd with adversity :
+My riches are these poor habiliments ,
+Of which if you should here disfurnish me ,
+You take the sum and substance that I have .
+
+Whither travel you ?
+
+To Verona .
+
+Whence came you ?
+
+From Milan .
+
+Have you long sojourn'd there ?
+
+Some sixteen months ; and longer might have stay'd
+If crooked fortune had not thwarted me .
+
+What ! were you banish'd thence ?
+
+I was .
+
+For what offence ?
+
+For that which now torments me to rehearse .
+I kill'd a man , whose death I much repent ;
+But yet I slew him manfully , in fight ,
+Without false vantage or base treachery .
+
+Why , ne'er repent it , if it were done so .
+But were you banish'd for so small a fault ?
+
+I was , and held me glad of such a doom .
+
+Have you the tongues ?
+
+My youthful travel therein made me happy ,
+Or else I often had been miserable .
+
+By the bare scalp of Robin Hood's fat friar ,
+This fellow were a king for our wild faction !
+
+We'll have him : Sirs , a word .
+
+Master , be one of them ;
+It is an honourable kind of thievery .
+
+Peace , villain !
+
+Tell us this : have you anything to take to ?
+
+Nothing , but my fortune .
+
+Know then , that some of us are gentlemen ,
+Such as the fury of ungovern'd youth
+Thrust from the company of awful men :
+Myself was from Verona banished
+For practising to steal away a lady ,
+An heir , and near allied unto the duke .
+
+And I from Mantua , for a gentleman ,
+Who , in my mood , I stabb'd unto the heart .
+
+And I for such like petty crimes as these .
+But to the purpose ; for we cite our faults ,
+That they may hold excus'd our lawless lives ;
+And , partly , seeing you are beautified
+With goodly shape , and by your own report
+A linguist , and a man of such perfection
+As we do in our quality much want
+
+Indeed , because you are a banish'd man ,
+Therefore , above the rest , we parley to you .
+Are you content to be our general ?
+To make a virtue of necessity
+And live , as we do , in this wilderness ?
+
+What say'st thou ? wilt thou be of our consort ?
+Say 'ay ,' and be the captain of us all :
+We'll do thee homage and be rul'd by thee ,
+Love thee as our commander and our king .
+
+But if thou scorn our courtesy , thou diest .
+
+Thou shalt not live to brag what we have offer'd .
+
+I take your offer and will live with you ,
+Provided that you do no outrages
+On silly women , or poor passengers .
+
+No ; we detest such vile , base practices .
+Come , go with us ; we'll bring thee to our crews ,
+And show thee all the treasure we have got ,
+Which , with ourselves , all rest at thy dispose .
+
+
+Already have I been false to Valentine ,
+And now I must be as unjust to Thurio .
+Under the colour of commending him ,
+I have access my own love to prefer :
+But Silvia is too fair , too true , too holy ,
+To be corrupted with my worthless gifts .
+When I protest true loyalty to her ,
+She twits me with my falsehood to my friend ;
+When to her beauty I commend my vows ,
+She bids me think how I have been forsworn
+In breaking faith with Julia whom I lov'd :
+And notwithstanding all her sudden quips ,
+The least whereof would quell a lover's hope ,
+Yet , spaniel-like , the more she spurns my love ,
+The more it grows , and fawneth on her still .
+But here comes Thurio : now must we to her window ,
+And give some evening music to her ear .
+
+
+How now , Sir Proteus ! are you crept before us ?
+
+Ay , gentle Thurio ; for you know that love
+Will creep in service where it cannot go .
+
+Ay ; but I hope , sir , that you love not here .
+
+Sir , but I do ; or else I would be hence .
+
+Who ? Silvia ?
+
+Ay , Silvia , for your sake .
+
+I thank you for your own . Now , gentlemen ,
+Let's tune , and to it lustily a while .
+
+
+Now , my young guest , methinks you're allycholly : I pray you , why is it ?
+
+Marry , mine host , because I cannot be merry .
+
+Come , we'll have you merry . I'll bring you where you shall hear music and see the gentleman that you asked for .
+
+But shall I hear him speak ?
+
+Ay , that you shall .
+
+That will be music .
+
+
+Hark ! hark !
+
+Is he among these ?
+
+Ay ; but peace ! let's hear 'em .
+
+
+Who is Silvia ? what is she ?
+That all our swains commend her ?
+Holy , fair , and wise is she ;
+The heaven such grace did lend her ,
+That she might admired be .
+Is she kind as she is fair ?
+For beauty lives with kindness :
+Love doth to her eyes repair ,
+To help him of his blindness ;
+And , being help'd , inhabits there .
+Then to Silvia let us sing ,
+That Silvia is excelling ;
+She excels each mortal thing
+Upon the dull earth dwelling ;
+To her let us garlands bring .
+
+How now ! are you sadder than you were before ? How do you , man ? the music likes you not .
+
+You mistake ; the musician likes me not .
+
+Why , my pretty youth ?
+
+He plays false , father .
+
+How ? out of tune on the strings ?
+
+Not so ; but yet so false that he grieves my very heart-strings .
+
+You have a quick ear .
+
+Ay ; I would I were deaf ; it makes me have a slow heart .
+
+I perceive you delight not in music .
+
+Not a whit ,when it jars so .
+
+Hark ! what fine change is in the music !
+
+Ay , that change is the spite .
+
+You would have them always play but one thing ?
+
+I would always have one play but one thing .
+But , host , doth this Sir Proteus that we talk on
+Often resort unto this gentlewoman ?
+
+I will tell you what Launce , his man , told me : he lov'd her out of all nick .
+
+Where is Launce ?
+
+Gone to seek his dog ; which , to-morrow , by his master's command , he must carry for a present to his lady .
+
+Peace ! stand aside : the company parts .
+
+Sir Thurio , fear not you : I will so plead
+That you shall say my cunning drift excels .
+
+Where meet we ?
+
+At Saint Gregory's well .
+
+Farewell .
+
+Madam , good even to your ladyship .
+
+I thank you for your music , gentlemen .
+Who is that that spake ?
+
+One , lady , if you knew his pure heart's truth ,
+You would quickly learn to know him by his voice .
+
+Sir Proteus , as I take it .
+
+Sir Proteus , gentle lady , and your servant .
+
+What is your will ?
+
+That I may compass yours .
+
+You have your wish ; my will is even this :
+That presently you hie you home to bed .
+Thou subtle , perjur'd , false , disloyal man !
+Think'st thou I am so shallow , so conceitless ,
+To be seduced by thy flattery ,
+That hast deceiv'd so many with thy vows ?
+Return , return , and make thy love amends .
+For me , by this pale queen of night I swear ,
+I am so far from granting thy request
+That I despise thee for thy wrongful suit ,
+And by and by intend to chide myself
+Even for this time I spend in talking to thee .
+
+I grant , sweet love , that I did love a lady ;
+But she is dead .
+
+'Tware false , if I should speak it ;
+For I am sure she is not buried .
+
+Say that she be ; yet Valentine thy friend
+Survives ; to whom , thyself art witness
+I am betroth'd : and art thou not asham'd
+To wrong him with thy importunacy ?
+
+I likewise hear that Valentine is dead .
+
+And so suppose am I ; for in his grave , Assure thyself my love is buried .
+
+Sweet lady , let me rake it from the earth .
+
+Go to thy lady's grave and call hers thence ;
+Or , at the least , in hers sepulchre thine .
+
+He heard not that .
+
+Madam , if your heart be so obdurate ,
+Vouchsafe me yet your picture for my love ,
+The picture that is hanging in your chamber :
+To that I'll speak , to that I'll sigh and weep ;
+For since the substance of your perfect self
+Is else devoted , I am but a shadow ,
+And to your shadow will I make true love .
+
+If 'twere a substance , you would , sure , deceive it ,
+And make it but a shadow , as I am .
+
+I am very loath to be your idol , sir ;
+But , since your falsehood shall become you well
+To worship shadows and adore false shapes ,
+Send to me in the morning and I'll send it .
+And so , good rest .
+
+As wretches have o'er night
+That wait for execution in the morn .
+
+
+Host , will you go ?
+
+By my halidom , I was fast asleep .
+
+Pray you , where lies Sir Proteus ?
+
+Marry , at my house . Trust me , I think 'tis almost day .
+
+Not so ; but it hath been the longest night
+That e'er I watch'd and the most heaviest .
+
+
+This is the hour that Madam Silvia
+Entreated me to call , and know her mind :
+There's some great matter she'd employ me in .
+Madam , Madam !
+
+
+Who calls ?
+
+Your servant , and your friend ;
+One that attends your ladyship's command .
+
+Sir Eglamour , a thousand times good morrow .
+
+As many , worthy lady , to yourself .
+According to your ladyship's impose ,
+I am thus early come to know what service
+It is your pleasure to command me in .
+
+O Eglamour , thou art a gentleman
+Think not I flatter , for I swear I do not
+Valiant , wise , remorseful , well-accomplish'd .
+Thou art not ignorant what dear good will
+I bear unto the banish'd Valentine ,
+Nor how my father would enforce me marry
+Vain Thurio , whom my very soul abhors .
+Thyself hast lov'd ; and I have heard thee say
+No grief did ever come so near thy heart
+As when thy lady and thy true love died ,
+Upon whose grave thou vow'dst pure chastity .
+Sir Eglamour , I would to Valentine ,
+To Mantua , where , I hear he makes abode ;
+And , for the ways are dangerous to pass ,
+I do desire thy worthy company ,
+Upon whose faith and honour I repose .
+Urge not my father's anger , Eglamour ,
+But think upon my grief , a lady's grief ,
+And on the justice of my flying hence ,
+To keep me from a most unholy match ,
+Which heaven and fortune still rewards with plagues .
+I do desire thee , even from a heart
+As full of sorrows as the sea of sands ,
+To bear me company and go with me :
+If not , to hide what I have said to thee ,
+That I may venture to depart alone .
+
+Madam , I pity much your grievances ;
+Which since I know they virtuously are plac'd ,
+I give consent to go along with you ,
+Recking as little what betideth me
+As much I wish all good befortune you .
+When will you go ?
+
+This evening coming .
+
+Where shall I meet you ?
+
+At Friar Patrick's cell ,
+Where I intend holy confession .
+
+I will not fail your ladyship .
+Good morrow , gentle lady .
+
+Good morrow , kind Sir Eglamour .
+
+
+When a man's servant shall play the cur with him , look you , it goes hard ; one that I brought up of a puppy ; one that I saved from drowning , when three or four of his blind brothers and sisters went to it . I have taught him , even as one would say precisely , 'Thus would I teach a dog .' I was sent to deliver him as a present to Mistress Silvia from my master , and I came no sooner into the dining-chamber but he steps me to her trencher and steals her capon's leg . O ! 'tis a foul thing when a cur cannot keep himself in all companies . I would have , as one should say , one that takes upon him to be a dog indeed , to be , as it were , a dog at all things . If I had not had more wit than he , to take a fault upon me that he did , I think verily he had been hanged for't : sure as I live , he had suffered for't : you shall judge . He thrusts me himself into the company of three or four gentleman-like dogs under the duke's table : he had not been there bless the mark a pissing-while , but all the chamber smelt him . 'Out with the dog !' says one ; 'What cur is that ?' says another ; 'Whip him out ,' says the third ; 'Hang him up ,' says the duke . I , having been acquainted with the smell before , knew it was Crab , and goes me to the fellow that whips the dogs : 'Friend ,' quoth I , 'you mean to whip the dog ?' 'Ay , marry , do I ,' quoth he . 'You do him the more wrong ,' quoth I ; ''twas I did the thing you wot of .' He makes me no more ado , but whips me out of the chamber . How many masters would do this for his servant ? Nay , I'll be sworn , I have sat in the stocks for puddings he hath stolen , otherwise he had been executed ; I have stood on the pillory for geese he hath killed , otherwise he had suffered for't ; thou thinkest not of this now . Nay , I remember the trick you served me when I took my leave of Madam Silvia : did not I bid thee still mark me and do as I do ? When didst thou see me heave up my leg and make water against a gentlewoman's farthingale ? Didst thou ever see me do such a trick ?
+
+
+Sebastian is thy name ? I like thee well
+And will employ thee in some service presently .
+
+In what you please : I will do what I can .
+
+I hope thou wilt .
+
+How now , you whoreson peasant !
+Where have you been these two days loitering ?
+
+Marry , sir , I carried Mistress Silvia the dog you bade me .
+
+And what says she to my little jewel ?
+
+Marry , she says , your dog was a cur , and tells you , currish thanks is good enough for such a present .
+
+But she received my dog ?
+
+No , indeed , did she not : here have I brought him back again .
+
+What ! didst thou offer her this from me ?
+
+Ay , sir : the other squirrel was stolen from me by the hangman boys in the marketplace ; and then I offered her mine own , who is a dog as big as ten of yours , and therefore the gift the greater .
+
+Go , get thee hence , and find my dog again ,
+Or ne'er return again into my sight .
+Away , I say ! Stay'st thou to vex me here ?
+A slave that still an end turns me to shame .
+
+Sebastian , I have entertained thee
+Partly , that I have need of such a youth ,
+That can with some discretion do my business ,
+For't is no trusting to yond foolish lout ;
+But chiefly for thy face and thy behaviour ,
+Which , if my augury deceive me not ,
+Witness good bringing up , fortune , and truth :
+Therefore , know thou , for this I entertain thee .
+Go presently , and take this ring with thee .
+Deliver it to Madam Silvia :
+She lov'd me well deliver'd it to me .
+
+It seems , you lov'd not her , to leave her token .
+She's dead , belike ?
+
+Not so : I think , she lives .
+
+Alas !
+
+Why dost thou cry 'alas ?'
+
+I cannot choose
+But pity her .
+
+Wherefore should'st thou pity her ?
+
+Because methinks that she lov'd you as well
+As you do love your lady Silvia .
+She dreams on him that has forgot her love ;
+You dote on her , that cares not for your love .
+'Tis pity , love should be so contrary ;
+And thinking on it makes me cry , 'alas !'
+
+Well , well , give her that ring and therewithal
+This letter : that's her chamber . Tell my lady
+I claim the promise for her heavenly picture .
+Your message done , hie home unto my chamber ,
+Where thou shalt find me sad and solitary .
+
+
+How many women would do such a message ?
+Alas , poor Proteus ! thou hast entertain'd
+A fox to be the shepherd of thy lambs .
+Alas , poor fool ! why do I pity him
+That with his very heart despiseth me ?
+Because he loves her , he despiseth me ;
+Because I love him , I must pity him .
+This ring I gave him when he parted from me ,
+To bind him to remember my good will ;
+And now am I unhappy messenger
+To plead for that which I would not obtain ,
+To carry that which I would have refus'd ,
+To praise his faith which I would have disprais'd .
+I am my master's true-confirmed love ,
+But cannot be true servant to my master ,
+Unless I prove false traitor to myself .
+Yet will I woo for him ; but yet so coldly
+As heaven it knows , I would not have him speed .
+
+
+Gentlewoman , good day ! I pray you , be my mean
+
+To bring me where to speak with Madam Silvia .
+
+What would you with her , if that I be she ?
+
+If you be she , I do entreat your patience To hear me speak the message I am sent on .
+
+From whom ?
+
+From my master , Sir Proteus , madam .
+
+O ! he sends you for a picture ?
+
+Ay , madam .
+
+Ursula , bring my picture there .
+
+Go , give your master this : tell him from me ,
+One Julia , that his changing thoughts forget ,
+Would better fit his chamber than this shadow .
+
+Madam , please you peruse this letter .
+Pardon me , madam , I have unadvis'd
+Deliver'd you a paper that I should not :
+This is the letter to your ladyship .
+
+I pray thee , let me look on that again .
+
+It may not be : good madam , pardon me .
+
+There , hold .
+I will not look upon your master's lines :
+I know , they are stuff'd with protestations
+And full of new-found oaths , which he will break
+As easily as I do tear his paper .
+
+Madam , he sends your ladyship this ring .
+
+The more shame for him that he sends it me ;
+For , I have heard him say a thousand times ,
+His Julia gave it him at his departure .
+Though his false finger have profan'd the ring ,
+Mine shall not do his Julia so much wrong .
+
+She thanks you .
+
+What say'st thou ?
+
+I thank you , madam , that you tender her .
+Poor gentlewoman ! my master wrongs her much .
+
+Dost thou know her ?
+
+Almost as well as I do know myself :
+To think upon her woes , I do protest
+That I have wept a hundred several times .
+
+Belike , she thinks , that Proteus hath forsook her .
+
+I think she doth , and that's her cause of sorrow .
+
+Is she not passing fair ?
+
+She hath been fairer , madam , than she is .
+When she did think my master lov'd her well ,
+She , in my judgment , was as fair as you ;
+But since she did neglect her looking-glass
+And threw her sun-expelling mask away ,
+The air hath starv'd the roses in her cheeks
+And pinch'd the lily-tincture of her face ,
+That now she is become as black as I .
+
+How tall was she ?
+
+About my stature ; for , at Pentecost ,
+When all our pageants of delight were play'd ,
+Our youth got me to play the woman's part ,
+And I was trimm'd in Madam Julia's gown ,
+Which served me as fit , by all men's judgments ,
+As if the garment had been made for me :
+Therefore I know she is about my height .
+And at that time I made her weep agood ;
+For I did play a lamentable part .
+Madam , 'twas Ariadne passioning
+For Theseus' perjury and unjust flight ;
+Which I so lively acted with my tears
+That my poor mistress , moved therewithal ,
+Wept bitterly , and would I might be dead
+If I in thought felt not her very sorrow !
+
+She is beholding to thee , gentle youth .
+Alas , poor lady , desolate and left !
+I weep myself to think upon thy words .
+Here , youth , there is my purse : I give thee this
+For thy sweet mistress' sake , because thou lov'st her .
+Farewell .
+
+And she shall thank you for't , if e'er you know her .
+
+A virtuous gentlewoman , mild and beautiful .
+I hope my master's suit will be but cold ,
+Since she respects my mistress' love so much .
+Alas , how love can trifle with itself !
+Here is her picture : let me see ; I think ,
+If I had such a tire , this face of mine
+Were full as lovely as is this of hers ;
+And yet the painter flatter'd her a little ,
+Unless I flatter with myself too much .
+Her hair is auburn , mine is perfect yellow :
+If that be all the difference in his love
+I'll get me such a colour'd periwig .
+Her eyes are grey as glass , and so are mine :
+Ay , but her forehead's low , and mine's as high .
+What should it be that he respects in her
+But I can make respective in myself ,
+If this fond Love were not a blinded god ?
+Come , shadow , come , and take this shadow up ,
+For 'tis thy rival . O thou senseless form !
+Thou shalt be worshipp'd , kiss'd , lov'd , and ador'd ,
+And , were there sense in his idolatry ,
+My substance should be statue in thy stead .
+I'll use thee kindly for thy mistress' sake ,
+That us'd me so ; or else , by Jove I vow ,
+I should have scratch'd out your unseeing eyes ,
+To make my master out of love with thee .
+
+The sun begins to gild the western sky ,
+And now it is about the very hour
+That Silvia at Friar Patrick's cell should meet me .
+She will not fail ; for lovers break not hours ,
+Unless it be to come before their time ,
+So much they spur their expedition .
+See , where she comes .
+
+Lady , a happy evening !
+
+Amen , amen ! go on , good Eglamour ,
+Out at the postern by the abbey-wall .
+I fear I am attended by some spies .
+
+Fear not : the forest is not three leagues off ;
+If we recover that , we're sure enough .
+
+
+Sir Proteus , what says Silvia to my suit ?
+
+O , sir , I find her milder than she was ;
+And yet she takes exceptions at your person .
+
+What ! that my leg is too long ?
+
+No , that it is too little .
+
+I'll wear a boot to make it somewhat rounder .
+
+But love will not be spurr'd to what it loathes .
+
+What says she to my face ?
+
+She says it is a fair one .
+
+Nay then , the wanton lies ; my face is black .
+
+But pearls are fair , and the old saying is ,
+'Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies' eyes .'
+
+'Tis true , such pearls as put out ladies' eyes ;
+For I had rather wink than look on them .
+
+How likes she my discourse ?
+
+Ill , when you talk of war .
+
+But well , when I discourse of love and peace ?
+
+But better , indeed , when you hold your peace .
+
+What says she to my valour ?
+
+O , sir , she makes no doubt of that .
+
+She needs not , when she knows it cowardice .
+
+What says she to my birth ?
+
+That you are well deriv'd .
+
+True ; from a gentleman to a fool .
+
+Considers she my possessions ?
+
+O , ay ; and pities them .
+
+Wherefore ?
+
+That such an ass should owe them .
+
+That they are out by lease .
+
+Here comes the duke .
+
+
+How now , Sir Proteus ! how now , Thurio !
+Which of you saw Sir Eglamour of late ?
+
+Not I .
+
+Nor I .
+
+Saw you my daughter ?
+
+Neither .
+
+Why then ,
+She's fled unto that peasant Valentine ,
+And Eglamour is in her company .
+'Tis true ; for Friar Laurence met them both ,
+As he in penance wander'd through the forest ;
+Him he knew well , and guess'd that it was she ,
+But , being mask'd , he was not sure of it ;
+Besides , she did intend confession
+At Patrick's cell this even , and there she was not .
+These likelihoods confirm her flight from hence .
+Therefore , I pray you , stand not to discourse ,
+But mount you presently and meet with me
+Upon the rising of the mountain-foot ,
+That leads towards Mantua , whither they are fled .
+Dispatch , sweet gentlemen , and follow me .
+
+
+Why , this it is to be a peevish girl ,
+That flies her fortune when it follows her .
+I'll after , more to be reveng'd on Eglamour
+Than for the love of reckless Silvia .
+
+
+And I will follow , more for Silvia's love
+Than hate of Eglamour that goes with her .
+
+
+And I will follow , more to cross that love
+Than hate for Silvia that is gone for love .
+
+
+Come , come ,
+Be patient ; we must bring you to our captain .
+
+A thousand more mischances than this one
+Have learn'd me how to brook this patiently .
+
+Come , bring her away .
+
+Where is the gentleman that was with her ?
+
+Being nimble-footed , he hath outrun us ;
+But Moyses and Valerius follow him .
+Go thou with her to the west end of the wood ;
+There is our captain . We'll follow him that's fled :
+The thicket is beset ; he cannot 'scape .
+
+
+Come , I must bring you to our captain's cave .
+Fear not ; he bears an honourable mind ,
+And will not use a woman lawlessly .
+
+O Valentine ! this I endure for thee .
+
+
+How use doth breed a habit in a man !
+This shadowy desart , unfrequented woods ,
+I better brook than flourishing peopled towns .
+Here can I sit alone , unseen of any ,
+And to the nightingale's complaining notes
+Tune my distresses and record my woes .
+O thou that dost inhabit in my breast ,
+Leave not the mansion so long tenantless ,
+Lest , growing ruinous , the building fall
+And leave no memory of what it was !
+Repair me with thy presence , Silvia !
+Thou gentle nymph , cherish thy forlorn swain !
+
+What halloing and what stir is this to-day ?
+These are my mates , that make their wills their law ,
+Have some unhappy passenger in chase .
+They love me well ; yet I have much to do
+To keep them from uncivil outrages .
+Withdraw thee , Valentine : who's this comes here ?
+
+Madam , this service I have done for you
+Though you respect not aught your servant doth
+To hazard life and rescue you from him
+That would have forc'd your honour and your love .
+Vouchsafe me , for my meed , but one fair look ;
+A smaller boon than this I cannot beg ,
+And less than this , I am sure , you cannot give .
+
+How like a dream is this I see and hear !
+Love , lend me patience to forbear awhile .
+
+O , miserable , unhappy that I am !
+
+Unhappy were you , madam , ere I came ;
+But by my coming I have made you happy .
+
+By thy approach thou mak'st me most unhappy .
+
+And me , when he approacheth to your presence .
+
+Had I been seized by a hungry lion ,
+I would have been a breakfast to the beast ,
+Rather than have false Proteus rescue me .
+O ! heaven be judge how I love Valentine ,
+Whose life's as tender to me as my soul ,
+And full as much for more there cannot be
+I do detest false perjur'd Proteus .
+Therefore be gone , solicit me no more .
+
+What dangerous action , stood it next to death ,
+Would I not undergo for one calm look !
+O , 'tis the curse in love , and still approv'd ,
+When women cannot love where they're belov'd !
+
+When Proteus cannot love where he's belov'd .
+Read over Julia's heart , thy first best love ,
+For whose dear sake thou didst then rend thy faith
+Into a thousand oaths ; and all those oaths
+Descended into perjury to love me .
+Thou hast no faith left now , unless thou'dst two ,
+And that's far worse than none : better have none
+Than plural faith which is too much by one .
+Thou counterfeit to thy true friend !
+
+In love
+Who respects friend ?
+
+All men but Proteus .
+
+Nay , if the gentle spirit of moving words
+Can no way change you to a milder form ,
+I'll woo you like a soldier , at arms' end ,
+And love you 'gainst the nature of love ,force ye .
+
+O heaven !
+
+I'll force thee yield to my desire .
+
+Ruffian , let go that rude uncivil touch ;
+Thou friend of an ill fashion !
+
+Valentine !
+
+Thou common friend , that's without faith or love
+For such is a friend now treach'rous man !
+Thou hast beguil'd my hopes : naught but mine eye
+Could have persuaded me . Now I dare not say
+I have one friend alive : thou wouldst disprove me .
+Who should be trusted now , when one's right hand
+Is perjur'd to the bosom ? Proteus ,
+I am sorry I must never trust thee more ,
+But count the world a stranger for thy sake .
+The private wound is deep'st . O time most curst !
+'Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst !
+
+My shame and guilt confound me .
+Forgive me , Valentine . If hearty sorrow
+Be a sufficient ransom for offence ,
+I tender't here : I do as truly suffer
+As e'er I did commit .
+
+Then , I am paid ;
+And once again I do receive thee honest .
+Who by repentance is not satisfied
+Is nor of heaven , nor earth ; for these are pleas'd .
+By penitence the Eternal's wrath's appeas'd :
+And , that my love may appear plain and free ,
+All that was mine in Silvia I give thee .
+
+O me unhappy !
+
+
+Look to the boy .
+
+Why , boy ! why , wag ! how now ! what's the matter ?
+Look up ; speak .
+
+O good sir , my master charg'd me
+To deliver a ring to Madam Silvia ,
+Which out of my neglect was never done .
+
+Where is that ring , boy ?
+
+Here 'tis this is it .
+
+
+How ! let me see .
+Why this is the ring I gave to Julia .
+
+O , cry you mercy , sir ; I have mistook :
+This is the ring you sent to Silvia .
+
+
+But how cam'st thou by this ring ?
+At my depart I gave this unto Julia .
+
+And Julia herself did give it me ;
+And Julia herself hath brought it hither .
+
+How ! Julia !
+
+Behold her that gave aim to all thy oaths ,
+And entertain'd them deeply in her heart :
+How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root !
+O Proteus ! let this habit make thee blush .
+Be thou asham'd that I have took upon me
+Such an immodest raiment ; if shame live
+In a disguise of love .
+It is the lesser blot , modesty finds ,
+Women to change their shapes than men their minds .
+
+Than men their minds ! 'tis true . O heaven ! were man
+But constant , he were perfect : that one error
+Fills him with faults ; makes him run through all the sins :
+Inconstancy falls off ere it begins .
+What is in Silvia's face , but I may spy
+More fresh in Julia's with a constant eye ?
+
+Come , come , a hand from either .
+Let me be blest to make this happy close :
+'Twere pity two such friends should be long foes .
+
+Bear witness , heaven , I have my wish , for ever .
+
+And I mine .
+
+
+A prize ! a prize ! a prize !
+
+Forbear , forbear , I say ; it is my lord the duke .
+Your Grace is welcome to a man disgrac'd ,
+Banished Valentine .
+
+Sir Valentine !
+
+Yonder is Silvia ; and Silvia's mine .
+
+Thurio , give back , or else embrace thy death ;
+Come not within the measure of my wrath ;
+Do not name Silvia thine ; if once again ,
+Verona shall not hold thee . Here she stands ;
+Take but possession of her with a touch ;
+I dare thee but to breathe upon my love .
+
+Sir Valentine , I care not for her , I .
+I hold him but a fool that will endanger
+His body for a girl that loves him not :
+I claim her not , and therefore she is thine .
+
+The more degenerate and base art thou ,
+To make such means for her as thou hast done ,
+And leave her on such slight conditions .
+Now , by the honour of my ancestry ,
+I do applaud thy spirit , Valentine ,
+And think thee worthy of an empress' love .
+Know then , I here forget all former griefs ,
+Cancel all grudge , repeal thee home again ,
+Plead a new state in thy unrivall'd merit ,
+To which I thus subscribe : Sir Valentine ,
+Thou art a gentleman and well deriv'd ;
+Take thou thy Silvia , for thou hast deserv'd her .
+
+I thank your Grace ; the gift hath made me happy .
+I now beseech you , for your daughter's sake ,
+To grant one boon that I shall ask of you .
+
+I grant it , for thine own , whate'er it be .
+
+These banish'd men , that I have kept withal
+Are men endu'd with worthy qualities :
+Forgive them what they have committed here ,
+And let them be recall'd from their exile .
+They are reformed , civil , full of good ,
+And fit for great employment , worthy lord .
+
+Thou hast prevail'd ; I pardon them , and thee :
+Dispose of them as thou know'st their deserts .
+Come , let us go : we will include all jars
+With triumphs , mirth , and rare solemnity .
+
+And as we walk along , I dare be bold
+With our discourse to make your Grace to smile .
+What think you of this page , my lord ?
+
+I think the boy hath grace in him : he blushes .
+
+I warrant you , my lord , more grace than boy .
+
+What mean you by that saying ?
+
+Please you , I'll tell you as we pass along ,
+That you will wonder what hath fortuned .
+Come , Proteus ; 'tis your penance , but to hear
+The story of your loves discovered :
+That done , our day of marriage shall be yours ;
+One feast , one house , one mutual happiness .
+
+THE WINTERS TALE
+
+If you shall chance , Camillo , to visit Bohemia , on the like occasion whereon my services are now on foot , you shall see , as I have said , great difference betwixt our Bohemia and your Sicilia .
+
+I think , this coming summer , the King of Sicilia means to pay Bohemia the visitation which he justly owes him .
+
+Wherein our entertainment shall shame us we will be justified in our loves : for , indeed ,
+
+Beseech you ,
+
+Verily , I speak it in the freedom of my knowledge : we cannot with such magnificence in so rare I know not what to say . We will give you sleepy drinks , that your senses , unintelligent of our insufficience , may , though they cannot praise us , as little accuse us .
+
+You pay a great deal too dear for what's given freely .
+
+Believe me , I speak as my understanding instructs me , and as mine honesty puts it to utterance .
+
+Sicilia cannot show himself over-kind to Bohemia . They were trained together in their childhoods ; and there rooted betwixt them then such an affection which cannot choose but branch now . Since their more mature dignities and royal necessities made separation of their society , their encounters , though not personal , have been royally attorneyed with interchange of gifts , letters , loving embassies ; that they have seemed to be together , though absent , shook hands , as over a vast , and embraced , as it were , from the ends of opposed winds . The heavens continue their loves !
+
+I think there is not in the world either malice or matter to alter it . You have an unspeakable comfort of your young Prince Mamilhus : it is a gentleman of the greatest promise that ever came into my note .
+
+I very well agree with you in the hopes of him . It is a gallant child ; one that indeed physics the subject , makes old hearts fresh ; they that went on crutches ere he was born desire yet their life to see him a man .
+
+Would they else be content to die ?
+
+Yes ; if there were no other excuse why they should desire to live .
+
+If the king had no son , they would desire to live on crutches till he had one .
+
+
+Nine changes of the watery star have been
+The shepherd's note since we have left our throne
+Without a burden : time as long again
+Would be fill'd up , my brother , with our thanks ;
+And yet we should for perpetuity
+Go hence in debt : and therefore , like a cipher ,
+Yet standing in rich place , I multiply
+With one 'We thank you' many thousands moe
+That go before it .
+
+Stay your thanks awhile ,
+And pay them when you part .
+
+Sir , that's to-morrow .
+I am question'd by my fears , of what may chance
+Or breed upon our absence ; that may blow
+No sneaping winds at home , to make us say ,
+'This is put forth too truly !' Besides , I have stay'd
+To tire your royalty .
+
+We are tougher , brother ,
+Than you can put us to't .
+
+No longer stay .
+
+One seven-night longer .
+
+Very sooth , to-morrow .
+
+We'll part the time between's then ; and in that
+I'll no gainsaying .
+
+Press me not , beseech you , so .
+There is no tongue that moves , none , none i' the world ,
+So soon as yours could win me : so it should now ,
+Were there necessity in your request , although
+'Twere needful I denied it . My affairs
+Do even drag me homeward ; which to hinder
+Were in your love a whip to me ; my stay
+To you a charge and trouble : to save both ,
+Farewell , our brother .
+
+Tongue-tied , our queen ? speak you .
+
+I had thought , sir , to have held my peace until
+You had drawn oaths from him not to stay .
+You , sir ,
+Charge him too coldly : tell him , you are sure
+All in Bohemia's well : this satisfaction
+The by-gone day proclaim'd : say this to him ,
+He's beat from his best ward .
+
+Well said , Hermione .
+
+To tell he longs to see his son were strong :
+But let him say so then , and let him go ;
+But let him swear so , and he shall not stay ,
+We'll thwack him hence with distaffs .
+
+
+Yet of your royal presence I'll adventure
+The borrow of a week . When at Bohemia
+You take my lord , I'll give him my commission
+To let him there a month behind the gest
+Prefix'd for's parting : yet , good deed , Leontes ,
+I love thee not a jar o' the clock behind
+What lady she her lord . You'll stay ?
+
+No , madam .
+
+Nay , but you will ?
+
+I may not , verily .
+
+Verily !
+You put me off with limber vows ; but I ,
+Though you would seek to unsphere the stars with oaths ,
+Should yet say , 'Sir , no going .' Verily ,
+You shall not go : a lady's 'verily' 's
+As potent as a lord's . Will you go yet ?
+Force me to keep you as a prisoner ,
+Not like a guest ; so you shall pay your fees
+When you depart , and save your thanks . How say you ?
+My prisoner , or my guest ? by your dread 'verily ,'
+One of them you shall be .
+
+Your guest , then , madam :
+To be your prisoner should import offending ;
+Which is for me less easy to commit
+Than you to punish .
+
+Not your gaoler then ,
+But your kind hostess . Come , I'll question you
+Of my lord's tricks and yours when you were boys :
+You were pretty lordings then .
+
+We were , fair queen ,
+Two lads that thought there was no more behind
+But such a day to-morrow as to-day ,
+And to be boy eternal .
+
+Was not my lord the verier wag o' the two ?
+
+We were as twinn'd lambs that did frisk i' the sun ,
+And bleat the one at the other : what we chang'd
+Was innocence for innocence ; we knew not
+The doctrine of ill-doing , no nor dream'd
+That any did . Had we pursu'd that life ,
+And our weak spirits ne'er been higher rear'd
+With stronger blood , we should have answer'd heaven
+Boldly , 'not guilty ;' the imposition clear'd
+Hereditary ours .
+
+By this we gather
+You have tripp'd since .
+
+O ! my most sacred lady ,
+Temptations have since then been born to's ; for
+In those unfledg'd days was my wife a girl ;
+Your precious self had then not cross'd the eyes
+Of my young playfellow .
+
+Grace to boot !
+Of this make no conclusion , lest you say
+Your queen and I are devils ; yet , go on :
+The offences we have made you do we'll answer ;
+If you first sinn'd with us , and that with us
+You did continue fault , and that you slipp'd not
+With any but with us .
+
+Is he won yet ?
+
+He'll stay , my lord .
+
+At my request he would not .
+Hermione , my dearest , thou never spok'st
+To better purpose .
+
+Never ?
+
+Never , but once .
+
+What ! have I twice said well ? when was't before ?
+I prithee tell me ; cram's with praise , and make's
+As fat as tame things : one good deed , dying tongueless ,
+Slaughters a thousand waiting upon that .
+Our praises are our wages : you may ride's
+With one soft kiss a thousand furlongs ere
+With spur we heat an acre . But to the goal :
+My last good deed was to entreat his stay :
+What was my first ? it has an elder sister ,
+Or I mistake you : O ! would her name were Grace .
+But once before I spoke to the purpose : when ?
+Nay , let me have't ; I long .
+
+Why , that was when
+Three crabbed months had sour'd themselves to death ,
+Ere I could make thee open thy white hand
+And clap thyself my love : then didst thou utter ,
+'I am yours for ever .'
+
+'Tis grace indeed .
+Why , lo you now , I have spoke to the purpose twice :
+The one for ever earn'd a royal husband ,
+The other for some while a friend .
+
+
+Too hot , too hot !
+To mingle friendship far is mingling bloods .
+I have tremor cordis on me : my heart dances ;
+But not for joy ; not joy . This entertainment
+May a free face put on , derive a liberty
+From heartiness , from bounty , fertile bosom ,
+And well become the agent :'t may I grant :
+But to be paddling palms and pinching fingers ,
+As now they are , and making practis'd smiles ,
+As in a looking-glass ; and then to sigh , as 'twere
+The mort o' the deer ; O ! that is entertainment
+My bosom likes not , nor my brows . Mamillius ,
+Art thou my boy ?
+
+Ay , my good lord .
+
+I' fecks ?
+Why , that's my bawcock . What ! hast smutch'd thy nose ?
+They say it is a copy out of mine . Come , captain ,
+We must be neat ; not neat , but cleanly , captain :
+And yet the steer , the heifer , and the calf ,
+Are all call'd neat . Still virginalling
+Upon his palm ! How now , you wanton calf !
+Art thou my calf ?
+
+Yes , if you will , my lord .
+
+Thou want'st a rough pash and the shoots that I have ,
+To be full like me : yet they say we are
+Almost as like as eggs ; women say so ,
+That will say anything : but were they false
+As o'er-dy'd blacks , as wind , as waters , false
+As dice are to be wish'd by one that fixes
+No bourn 'twixt his and mine , yet were it true
+To say this boy were like me . Come , sir page ,
+Look on me with your wolkin eye : sweet villain !
+Most dear'st ! my collop ! Can thy dam ?may't be ?
+Affection ! thy intention stabs the centre :
+Thou dost make possible things not so held ,
+Communicat'st with dreams ;how can this be ?
+With what's unreal thou co-active art ,
+And fellow'st nothing : then , 'tis very credent
+Thou mayst co-join with something ; and thou dost ,
+And that beyond commission , and I find it ,
+And that to the infection of my brains
+And hardening of my brows .
+
+What means Sicilia ?
+
+He something seems unsettled .
+
+How , my lord !
+What cheer ? how is't with you , best brother ?
+
+You look
+As if you held a brow of much distraction :
+Are you mov'd , my lord ?
+
+No , in good earnest .
+How sometimes nature will betray its folly ,
+Its tenderness , and make itself a pastime
+To harder bosoms ! Looking on the lines
+Of my boy's face , methoughts I did recoil
+Twenty-three years , and saw myself unbreech'd ,
+In my green velvet coat , my dagger muzzled ,
+Lest it should bite its master , and so prove ,
+As ornaments oft do , too dangerous :
+How like , methought , I then was to this kernel ,
+This squash , this gentleman . Mine honest friend ,
+Will you take eggs for money ?
+
+No , my lord , I'll fight .
+
+You will ? why , happy man be his dole ! My brother ,
+Are you so fond of your young prince as we
+Do seem to be of ours ?
+
+If at home , sir ,
+He's all my exercise , my mirth , my matter ,
+Now my sworn friend and then mine enemy ;
+My parasite , my soldier , statesman , all :
+He makes a July's day short as December ,
+And with his varying childness cures in me
+Thoughts that would thick my blood .
+
+So stands this squire
+Offic'd with me . We two will walk , my lord ,
+And leave you to your graver steps . Hermione ,
+How thou lov'st us , show in our brother's welcome :
+Let what is dear in Sicily be cheap :
+Next to thyself and my young rover , he's
+Apparent to my heart .
+
+If you would seek us ,
+We are yours i' the garden : shall's attend you there ?
+
+To your own bents dispose you : you'll be found ,
+Be you beneath the sky .
+
+I am angling now ,
+Though you perceive me not how I give line .
+Go to , go to !
+How she holds up the neb , the bill to him !
+And arms her with the boldness of a wife
+To her allowing husband !
+
+Gone already !
+Inch-thick , knee-deep , o'er head and ears a fork'd one !
+Go play , boy , play ; thy mother plays , and I
+Play too , but so disgrac'd a part , whose issue
+Will hiss me to my grave : contempt and clamour
+Will be my knell . Go play , boy , play . There have been ,
+Or I am much deceiv'd , cuckolds ere now ;
+And many a man there is even at this present ,
+Now , while I speak this , holds his wife by the arm ,
+That little thinks she has been sluic'd in's absence ,
+And his pond fish'd by his next neighbour , by
+Sir Smile , his neighbour : nay , there's comfort in't ,
+Whiles other men have gates , and those gates open'd ,
+As mine , against their will . Should all despair
+That have revolted wives the tenth of mankind
+Would hang themselves . Physic for't there is none ;
+It is a bawdy planet , that will strike
+Where 'tis predominant ; and 'tis powerful , think it ,
+From east , west , north , and south : be it concluded ,
+No barricado for a belly : know't ;
+It will let in and out the enemy
+With bag and baggage . Many a thousand on's
+Have the disease , and feel't not . How now , boy !
+
+I am like you , they say .
+
+Why , that's some comfort .
+What ! Camillo there ?
+
+Ay , my good lord .
+
+Go play , Mamillius ; thou'rt an honest man .
+
+Camillo , this great sir will yet stay longer .
+
+You had much ado to make his anchor hold :
+When you cast out , it still came home .
+
+Didst note it ?
+
+He would not stay at your petitions ; made
+His business more material .
+
+Didst perceive it ?
+
+
+They're here with me already , whispering , rounding
+'Sicilia is a so-forth .' 'Tis far gone ,
+When I shall gust it last . How came't , Camillo ,
+That he did stay ?
+
+At the good queen's entreaty .
+
+At the queen's , be't : 'good' should be pertinent ;
+But so it is , it is not . Was this taken
+By any understanding pate but thine ?
+For thy conceit is soaking ; will draw in
+More than the common blocks : not noted , is't ,
+But of the finer natures ? by some severals
+Of head-piece extraordinary ? lower messes
+Perchance are to this business purblind ? say .
+
+Business , my lord ! I think most understand
+Bohemia stays here longer .
+
+Ha !
+
+Stays here longer .
+
+Ay , but why ?
+
+To satisfy your highness and the entreaties
+Of our most gracious mistress .
+
+Satisfy !
+The entreaties of your mistress ! satisfy !
+Let that suffice . I have trusted thee , Camillo ,
+With all the nearest things to my heart , as well
+My chamber-councils , wherein , priest-like , thou
+Hast cleans'd my bosom : I from thee departed
+Thy penitent reform'd ; but we have been
+Deceiv'd in thy integrity , deceiv'd
+In that which seems so .
+
+Be it forbid , my lord !
+
+To bide upon 't , thou art not honest ; or ,
+If thou inclin'st that way , thou art a coward ,
+Which hoxes honesty behind , restraining
+From course requir'd ; or else thou must be counted
+A servant grafted in my serious trust ,
+And therein negligent ; or else a fool
+That seest a game play'd home , the rich stake drawn ,
+And tak'st it all for jest .
+
+My gracious lord ,
+I may be negligent , foolish , and fearful ;
+In every one of these no man is free ,
+But that his negligence , his folly , fear ,
+Among the infinite doings of the world ,
+Sometime puts forth . In your affairs , my lord ,
+If ever I were wilful-negligent ,
+It was my folly ; if industriously
+I play'd the fool , it was my negligence ,
+Not weighing well the end ; if ever fearful
+To do a thing , where I the issue doubted ,
+Whereof the execution did cry out
+Against the non-performance , 'twas a fear
+Which oft infects the wisest : these , my lord ,
+Are such allow'd infirmities that honesty
+Is never free of : but , beseech your Grace ,
+Be plainer with me ; let me know my trespass
+By its own visage ; if I then deny it ,
+'Tis none of mine .
+
+Ha' not you seen , Camillo ,
+But that's past doubt ; you have , or your eyeglass
+Is thicker than a cuckold's horn ,or heard ,
+For to a vision so apparent rumour
+Cannot be mute ,or thought ,for cogitation
+Resides not in that man that does not think ,
+My wife is slippery ? If thou wilt confess ,
+Or else be impudently negative ,
+To have nor eyes , nor ears , nor thought ,then say
+My wife's a hobby-horse ; deserves a name
+As rank as any flax-wench that puts to
+Before her troth-plight : say't and justify't .
+
+I would not be a stander-by , to hear
+My sovereign mistress clouded so , without
+My present vengeance taken : 'shrew my heart ,
+You never spoke what did become you less
+Than this ; which to reiterate were sin
+As deep as that , though true .
+
+Is whispering nothing ?
+Is leaning cheek to cheek ? is meeting noses ?
+Kissing with inside lip ? stopping the career
+Of laughter with a sigh ?a note infallible
+Of breaking honesty ,horsing foot on foot ?
+Skulking in corners ? wishing clocks more swift ?
+Hours , minutes ? noon , midnight ? and all eyes
+Blind with the pin and web but theirs , theirs only ,
+That would unseen be wicked ? is this nothing ?
+Why , then the world and all that's in't is nothing ;
+The covering sky is nothing ; Bohemia nothing ;
+My wife is nothing ; nor nothing have these nothings ,
+If this be nothing .
+
+Good my lord , be cur'd
+Of this diseas'd opinion , and betimes ;
+For 'tis most dangerous .
+
+Say it be , 'tis true .
+
+No , no , my lord .
+
+It is ; you lie , you lie :
+I say thou liest , Camillo , and I hate thee ;
+Pronounce thee a gross lout , a mindless slave ,
+Or else a hovering temporizer , that
+Canst with thine eyes at once see good and evil ,
+Inclining to them both : were my wife's liver
+Infected as her life , she would not live
+The running of one glass .
+
+Who does infect her ?
+
+Why , he that wears her like her medal , hanging
+About his neck , Bohemia : who , if I
+Had servants true about me , that bare eyes
+To see alike mine honour as their profits ,
+Their own particular thrifts , they would do that
+Which should undo more doing : ay , and thou ,
+His cup-bearer ,whom I from meaner form
+Have bench'd and rear'd to worship , who mayst see
+Plainly , as heaven sees earth , and earth sees heaven ,
+How I am galled ,mightst bespice a cup ,
+To give mine enemy a lasting wink ;
+Which draught to me were cordial .
+
+Sir , my lord ,
+I could do this , and that with no rash potion ,
+But with a lingering dram that should not work
+Maliciously like poison : but I cannot
+Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress ,
+So sovereingly being honourable :
+I have lov'd thee ,
+
+Make that thy question , and go rot !
+Dost think I am so muddy , so unsettled ,
+To appoint myself in this vexation ; sully
+The purity and whiteness of my sheets ,
+Which to preserve is sleep ; which being spotted
+Is goads , thorns , nettles , tails of wasps ?
+Give scandal to the blood o' the prince my son ,
+Who I do think is mine , and love as mine ,
+Without ripe moving to't ? Would I do this ?
+Could man so blench ?
+
+I must believe you , sir :
+I do ; and will fetch off Bohemia for't ;
+Provided that when he's remov'd , your highness
+Will take again your queen as yours at first ,
+Even for your son's sake ; and thereby for sealing
+The injury of tongues in courts and kingdoms
+Known and allied to yours .
+
+Thou dost advise me
+Even so as I mine own course have set down :
+I'll give no blemish to her honour , none .
+
+My lord ,
+Go then ; and with a countenance as clear
+As friendship wears at feasts , keep with Bohemia ,
+And with your queen . I am his cupbearer ;
+If from me he have wholesome beverage ,
+Account me not your servant .
+
+This is all :
+Do't , and thou hast the one half of my heart ;
+Do't not , thou split'st thine own .
+
+I'll do't , my lord .
+
+I will seem friendly , as thou hast advis'd me .
+
+
+O miserable lady ! But , for me ,
+What case stand I in ? I must be the poisoner
+Of good Polixenes ; and my ground to do't
+Is the obedience to a master ; one
+Who , in rebellion with himself will have
+All that are his so too . To do this deed
+Promotion follows . If I could find example
+Of thousands that had struck anointed kings ,
+And flourish'd after , I'd not do't ; but since
+Nor brass nor stone nor parchment bears not one ,
+Let villany itself forswear't . I must
+Forsake the court : to do't , or no , is certain
+To me a break-neck . Happy star reign now !
+Here comes Bohemia .
+
+
+This is strange : methinks
+My favour here begins to warp . Not speak ?
+Good day , Camillo .
+
+Hail , most royal sir !
+
+What is the news i' the court ?
+
+None rare , my lord .
+
+The king hath on him such a countenance
+As he had lost some province and a region
+Lov'd as he loves himself : even now I met him
+With customary compliment , when he ,
+Wafting his eyes , to the contrary , and falling
+A lip of much contempt , speeds from me and
+So leaves me to consider what is breeding
+That changes thus his manners .
+
+I dare not know , my lord .
+
+How ! dare not ! do not ! Do you know , and dare not
+Be intelligent to me ? 'Tis thereabouts :
+For , to yourself , what you do know , you must ,
+And cannot say you dare not . Good Camillo ,
+Your chang'd complexions are to me a mirror
+Which shows me mine chang'd too ; for I must be
+A party in this alteration , finding
+Myself thus alter'd with't .
+
+There is a sickness
+Which puts some of us in distemper ; but
+I cannot name the disease , and it is caught
+Of you that yet are well .
+
+How ! caught of me ?
+Make me not sighted like the basilisk :
+I have look'd on thousands , who have sped the better
+By my regard , but kill'd none so . Camillo ,
+As you are certainly a gentleman , thereto
+Clerk-like experienc'd , which no less adorns
+Our gentry than our parents' noble names ,
+In whose success we are gentle ,I beseech you ,
+If you know aught which does behove my knowledge
+Thereof to be inform'd , imprison it not
+In ignorant concealment .
+
+I may not answer .
+
+A sickness caught of me , and yet I well !
+I must be answer'd . Dost thou hear , Camillo ;
+I conjure thee , by all the parts of man
+Which honour does acknowledge ,whereof the least
+Is not this suit of mine ,that thou declare
+What incidency thou dost guess of harm
+Is creeping toward me ; how far off , how near ;
+Which way to be prevented if to be ;
+If not , how best to bear it .
+
+Sir , I will tell you ;
+Since I am charg'd in honour and by him
+That I think honourable . Therefore mark my counsel ,
+Which must be even as swiftly follow'd as
+I mean to utter it , or both yourself and me
+Cry 'lost ,' and so good night !
+
+On , good Camillo .
+
+I am appointed him to murder you .
+
+By whom , Camillo ?
+
+By the king .
+
+For what ?
+
+He thinks , nay , with all confidence he swears ,
+As he had seen't or been an instrument
+To vice you to't , that you have touch'd his queen
+Forbiddenly .
+
+O , then my best blood turn
+To an infected jelly , and my name
+Be yok'd with his that did betray the Best !
+Turn then my freshest reputation to
+A savour , that may strike the dullest nostril
+Where I arrive ; and my approach be shunn'd ,
+Nay , hated too , worse than the great'st infection
+That e'er was heard or read !
+
+Swear his thought over
+By each particular star in heaven and
+By all their influences , you may as well
+Forbid the sea for to obey the moon
+As or by oath remove or counsel shake
+The fabric of his folly , whose foundation
+Is pil'd upon his faith , and will continue
+The standing of his body .
+
+How should this grow ?
+
+I know not : but I am sure 'tis safer to
+Avoid what's grown than question how 'tis born .
+If therefore you dare trust my honesty ,
+That lies enclosed in this trunk , which you
+Shall bear along impawn'd , away to-night !
+Your followers I will whisper to the business ,
+And will by twos and threes at several posterns
+Clear them o'the city . For myself , I'll put
+My fortunes to your service , which are here
+By this discovery lost . Be not uncertain ;
+For , by the honour of my parents , I
+Have utter'd truth , which , if you seek to prove ,
+I dare not stand by ; nor shall you be safer
+Than one condemn'd by the king's own mouth , thereon
+His execution sworn .
+
+I do believe thee :
+I saw his heart in's face . Give me thy hand :
+Be pilot to me and thy places shall
+Still neighbour mine . My ships are ready and
+My people did expect my hence departure
+Two days ago . This jealousy
+Is for a precious creature : as she's rare
+Must it be great , and , as his person's mighty
+Must it be violent , and , as he does conceive
+He is dishonour'd by a man which ever
+Profess'd to him , why , his revenges must
+In that be made more bitter . Fear o'ershades me :
+Good expedition be my friend , and comfort
+The gracious queen , part of his theme , but nothing
+Of his ill-ta'en suspicion ! Come . Camillo ;
+I will respect thee as a father if
+Thou bear'st my life off hence : let us avoid .
+
+It is in mine authority to command
+The keys of all the posterns : please your highness
+To take the urgent hour . Come , sir , away !
+
+Take the boy to you : he so troubles me , 'Tis past enduring .
+
+Come , my gracious lord , Shall I be your playfellow ?
+
+No , I'll none of you .
+
+Why , my sweet lord ?
+
+You'll kiss me hard and speak to me as if
+I were a baby still . I love you better .
+
+And why so , my lord ?
+
+Not for because
+Your brows are blacker ; yet black brows , they say ,
+Become some women best , so that there be not
+Too much hair there , but in a semicircle ,
+Or a half-moon made with a pen .
+
+Who taught you this ?
+
+I learn'd it out of women's faces . Pray now ,
+What colour are your eyebrows ?
+
+Blue , my lord .
+
+Nay , that's a mock : I have seen a lady's nose
+That has been blue , but not her eyebrows .
+
+Hark ye ;
+The queen your mother rounds apace : we shall
+Present our services to a fine new prince
+One of these days ; and then you'd wanton with us ,
+If we would have you .
+
+She is spread of late
+Into a goodly bulk : good time encounter her !
+
+What wisdom stirs amongst you ? Come sir , now
+I am for you again : pray you , sit by us ,
+And tell's a tale .
+
+Merry or sad shall't be ?
+
+As merry as you will .
+
+A sad tale's best for winter .
+I have one of sprites and goblins .
+
+Let's have that , good sir .
+Come on , sit down : come on , and do your best
+To fright me with your sprites ; you're powerful at it .
+
+There was a man ,
+
+Nay , come , sit down ; then on .
+
+Dwelt by a churchyard . I will tell it softly ;
+Yond crickets shall not hear it .
+
+Come on then ,
+And give't me in mine ear .
+
+
+Was he met there ? his train ? Camillo with him ?
+
+Behind the tuft of pines I met them : never
+Saw I men scour so on their way : I ey'd them
+Even to their ships
+
+How blest am I
+In my just censure , in my true opinion !
+Alack , for lesser knowledge ! How accurs'd
+In being so blest ! There may be in the cup
+A spider steep'd , and one may drink , depart ,
+And yet partake no venom , for his knowledge
+Is not infected ; but if one present
+The abhorr'd ingredient to his eye , make known
+How he hath drunk , he cracks his gorge , his sides ,
+With violent hefts . I have drunk , and seen the spider .
+Camillo was his help in this , his pandar :
+There is a plot against my life , my crown ;
+All's true that is mistrusted : that false villain
+Whom I employ'd was pre-employ'd by him :
+He has discover'd my design , and I
+Remain a pinch'd thing ; yea , a very trick
+For them to play at will . How came the posterns
+So easily open ?
+
+By his great authority ;
+Which often hath no less prevail'd than so
+On your command .
+
+I know't too well .
+
+
+Give me the boy : I am glad you did not nurse him :
+Though he does bear some signs of me , yet you
+Have too much blood in him .
+
+What is this ? sport ?
+
+Bear the boy hence ; he shall not come about her ;
+Away with him !
+
+and let her sport herself
+With that she's big with ; for 'tis Polixenes
+Has made thee swell thus .
+
+But I'd say he had not ,
+And I'll be sworn you would believe my saying ,
+Howe'er you lean to the nayward .
+
+You , my lords ,
+Look on her , mark her well ; be but about
+To say , 'she is a goodly lady ,' and
+The justice of your hearts will thereto add
+''Tis pity she's not honest , honourable :'
+Praise her but for this her without-door form ,
+Which , on my faith deserves high speech ,and straight
+The shrug , the hum or ha , these petty brands
+That calumny doth use ,O , I am out !
+That mercy does , for calumny will sear
+Virtue itself : these shrugs , these hums and ha's ,
+When you have said 'she's goodly ,' come between ,
+Ere you can say 'she's honest .' But be't known ,
+From him that has most cause to grieve it should be ,
+She's an adulteress .
+
+Should a villain say so ,
+The most replenish'd villain in the world ,
+He were as much more villain : you , my lord ,
+Do but mistake .
+
+You have mistook , my lady ,
+Polixenes for Leontes . O thou thing !
+Which I'll not call a creature of thy place ,
+Lest barbarism , making me the precedent ,
+Should a like language use to all degrees ,
+And mannerly distinguishment leave out
+Betwixt the prince and beggar : I have said
+She's an adulteress ; I have said with whom :
+More , she's a traitor , and Camillo is
+A federary with her , and one that knows
+What she should shame to know herself
+But with her most vile principal , that she's
+A bed-swerver , even as bad as those
+That vulgars give bold'st titles ; ay , and privy
+To this their late escape .
+
+No , by my life ,
+Privy to none of this . How will this grieve you
+When you shall come to clearer knowledge that
+You thus have publish'd me ! Gentle my lord ,
+You scarce can right me throughly then to say
+You did mistake .
+
+No ; if I mistake
+In those foundations which I build upon ,
+The centre is not big enough to bear
+A schoolboy's top . Away with her to prison !
+He who shall speak for her is afar off guilty
+But that he speaks .
+
+There's some ill planet reigns :
+I must be patient till the heavens look
+With an aspect more favourable . Good my lords ,
+I am not prone to weeping , as our sex
+Commonly are ; the want of which vain dew
+Perchance shall dry your pities ; but I have
+That honourable grief lodg'd here which burns
+Worse than tears drown . Beseech you all , my lords ,
+With thoughts so qualified as your charities
+Shall best instruct you , measure me ; and so
+The king's will be perform'd !
+
+Shall I be heard ?
+
+Who is't that goes with me ? Beseech your highness ,
+My women may be with me ; for you see
+My plight requires it . Do not weep , good fools ;
+There is no cause : when you shall know your mistress
+Has deserv'd prison , then abound in tears
+As I come out : this action I now go on
+Is for my better grace . Adieu , my lord :
+I never wish'd to see you sorry ; now
+I trust I shall . My women , come ; you have leave .
+
+Go , do our bidding : hence !
+
+
+Beseech your highness call the queen again .
+
+Be certain what you do , sir , lest your justice
+Prove violence : in the which three great ones suffer ,
+Yourself , your queen , your son .
+
+For her , my lord ,
+I dare my life lay down , and will do't , sir ,
+Please you to accept it ,that the queen is spotless
+I' the eyes of heaven and to you : I mean ,
+In this which you accuse her .
+
+If it prove
+She's otherwise , I'll keep my stables where
+I lodge my wife ; I'll go in couples with her ;
+Than when I feel and see her no further trust her ;
+For every inch of woman in the world ,
+Ay , every dram of woman's flesh is false ,
+If she be .
+
+Hold your peaces !
+
+Good my lord ,
+
+It is for you we speak , not for ourselves .
+You are abus'd , and by some putter-on
+That will be damn'd for't ; would I knew the villain ,
+I would land-damn him . Be she honour-flaw'd ,
+I have three daughters ; the eldest is eleven ,
+The second and the third , nine and some five ;
+If this prove true , they'll pay for't : by mine honour ,
+I'll geld them all ; fourteen they shall not see ,
+To bring false generations : they are co-heirs ;
+And I had rather glib myself than they
+Should not produce fair issue .
+
+Cease ! no more .
+You smell this business with a sense as cold
+As is a dead man's nose ; but I do see't and feel't ,
+As you feel doing thus , and see withal
+The instruments that feel .
+
+If it be so ,
+We need no grave to bury honesty :
+There's not a grain of it the face to sweeten
+Of the whole dungy earth .
+
+What ! lack I credit ?
+
+I had rather you did lack than I , my lord ,
+Upon this ground ; and more it would content me
+To have her honour true than your suspicion ,
+Be blam'd for't how you might .
+
+Why , what need we
+Commune with you of this , but rather follow
+Our forceful instigation ? Our prerogative
+Calls not your counsels , but our natural goodness
+Imparts this ; which if you ,or stupified
+Or seeming so in skill ,cannot or will not
+Relish a truth like us , inform yourselves
+We need no more of your advice : the matter ,
+The loss , the gain , the ordering on't , is all
+Properly ours .
+
+And I wish , my liege ,
+You had only in your silent judgment tried it ,
+Without more overture .
+
+How could that be ?
+Either thou art most ignorant by age ,
+Or thou wert born a fool . Camillo's flight ,
+Added to their familiarity ,
+Which was as gross as ever touch'd conjecture ,
+That lack'd sight only , nought for approbation
+But only seeing , all other circumstances
+Made up to the deed , doth push on this proceeding :
+Yet , for a greater confirmation ,
+For in an act of this importance 'twere
+Most piteous to be wild ,I have dispatch'd in post
+To sacred Delphos , to Apollo's temple ,
+Cleomenes and Dion , whom you know
+Of stuff'd sufficiency . Now , from the oracle
+They will bring all ; whose spiritual counsel had ,
+Shall stop or spur me . Have I done well ?
+
+Well done , my lord .
+
+Though I am satisfied and need no more
+Than what I know , yet shall the oracle
+Give rest to the minds of others , such as he
+Whose ignorant credulity will not
+Come up to the truth . So have we thought it good
+From our free person she should be confin'd ,
+Lest that the treachery of the two fled hence
+Be left her to perform . Come , follow us :
+We are to speak in public ; for this business
+Will raise us all .
+
+To laughter , as I take it ,
+If the good truth were known .
+
+
+The keeper of the prison , call to him ;
+Let him have knowledge who I am .
+
+Good lady ,
+No court in Europe is too good for thee ;
+What dost thou then in prison ?
+
+
+Now , good sir ,
+
+You know me , do you not ?
+
+For a worthy lady
+And one whom much I honour .
+
+Pray you then ,
+Conduct me to the queen .
+
+I may not , madam : to the contrary
+I have express commandment .
+
+Here's ado ,
+To lock up honesty and honour from
+The access of gentle visitors ! Is't lawful , pray you ,
+To see her women ? any of them ? Emilia ?
+
+So please you , madam ,
+To put apart these your attendants , I
+Shall bring Emilia forth .
+
+I pray now , call her .
+Withdraw yourselves .
+
+
+And , madam ,
+I must be present at your conference .
+
+Well , be't so , prithee .
+
+Here's such ado to make no stain a stain ,
+As passes colouring .
+
+
+Dear gentlewoman ,
+
+How fares our gracious lady ?
+
+As well as one so great and so forlorn
+May hold together . On her frights and griefs ,
+Which never tender lady hath borne greater ,
+She is something before her time deliver'd .
+
+A boy ?
+
+A daughter ; and a goodly babe ,
+Lusty and like to live : the queen receives
+Much comfort in't ; says , 'My poor prisoner ,
+I am innocent as you .'
+
+I dare be sworn :
+These dangerous unsafe lunes i' the king , beshrew them !
+He must be told on't , and he shall : the office
+Becomes a woman best ; I'll take't upon me .
+If I prove honey-mouth'd , let my tongue blister ,
+And never to my red-look'd anger be
+The trumpet any more . Pray you , Emilia ,
+Commend my best obedience to the queen :
+If she dares trust me with her little babe ,
+I'll show it to the king and undertake to be
+Her advocate to the loud'st . We do not know
+How he may soften at the sight of the child :
+The silence often of pure innocence
+Persuades when speaking fails .
+
+Most worthy madam ,
+Your honour and your goodness is so evident
+That your free undertaking cannot miss
+A thriving issue : there is no lady living
+So meet for this great errand . Please your ladyship
+To visit the next room , I'll presently
+Acquaint the queen of your most noble offer ,
+Who but to-day hammer'd of this design ,
+But durst not tempt a minister of honour ,
+Lest she should be denied .
+
+Tell her , Emilia ,
+I'll use that tongue I have : if wit flow from't
+As boldness from my bosom , let it not be doubted
+I shall do good .
+
+Now be you blest for it !
+I'll to the queen . Please you , come something nearer .
+
+Madam , if't please the queen to send the babe ,
+I know not what I shall incur to pass it ,
+Having no warrant .
+
+You need not fear it , sir :
+The child was prisoner to the womb , and is
+By law and process of great nature thence
+Freed and enfranchis'd ; not a party to
+The anger of the king , nor guilty of ,
+If any be , the trespass of the queen .
+
+I do believe it .
+
+Do not you fear : upon mine honour , I
+Will stand betwixt you and danger .
+
+
+Nor night , nor day , no rest ; it is but weakness
+To bear the matter thus ; mere weakness . If
+The cause were not in being ,part o' the cause ,
+She the adultress ; for the harlot king
+Is quite beyond mine arm , out of the blank
+And level of my brain , plot-proof ; but she
+I can hook to me : say , that she were gone ,
+Given to the fire , a moiety of my rest
+Might come to me again . Who's there ?
+
+My lord ?
+
+How does the boy ?
+
+He took good rest to-night ;
+'Tis hop'd his sickness is discharg'd .
+
+To see his nobleness !
+Conceiving the dishonour of his mother ,
+He straight declin'd , droop'd , took it deeply ,
+Fasten'd and fix'd the shame on't in himself ,
+Threw off his spirit , his appetite , his sleep ,
+And downright languish'd . Leave me solely : go ,
+See how he fares .
+
+Fie , fie ! no thought of him ;
+The very thought of my revenges that way
+Recoil upon me : in himself too mighty ,
+And in his parties , his alliance ; let him be
+Until a time may serve : for present vengeance ,
+Take it on her . Camillo and Polixenes
+Laugh at me ; make their pastime at my sorrow :
+They should not laugh , if I could reach them , nor
+Shall she within my power .
+
+
+You must not enter .
+
+Nay , rather , good my lords , be second to me :
+Fear you his tyrannous passion more , alas ,
+Than the queen's life ? a gracious innocent soul ,
+More free than he is jealous .
+
+That's enough .
+
+Madam , he hath not slept to-night ; commanded
+None should come at him .
+
+Not so hot , good sir ;
+I come to bring him sleep . 'Tis such as you ,
+That creep like shadows by him and do sigh
+At each his needless heavings , such as you
+Nourish the cause of his awaking : I
+Do come with words as med'cinal as true ,
+Honest as either , to purge him of that humour
+That presses him from sleep .
+
+What noise there , ho ?
+
+No noise , my lord ; but needful conference
+About some gossips for your highness .
+
+How !
+Away with that audacious lady ! Antigonus ,
+I charg'd thee that she should not come about me :
+I knew she would .
+
+I told her so , my lord ,
+On your displeasure's peril , and on mine ,
+She should not visit you .
+
+What ! canst not rule her ?
+
+From all dishonesty he can : in this ,
+Unless he take the course that you have done ,
+Commit me for committing honour , trust it ,
+He shall not rule me .
+
+La you now ! you hear ;
+When she will take the rein I let her run ;
+But she'll not stumble .
+
+Good my liege , I come ,
+And I beseech you , hear me , who professes
+Myself your loyal servant , your physician ,
+Your most obedient counsellor , yet that dares
+Less appear so in comforting your evils
+Than such as most seem yours : I say , I come
+From your good queen .
+
+Good queen !
+
+Good queen , my lord , good queen ; I say , good queen ;
+And would by combat make her good , so were I
+A man , the worst about you .
+
+Force her hence .
+
+Let him that makes but trifles of his eyes
+First hand me : on mine own accord I'll off ;
+But first I'll do my errand . The good queen ,
+For she is good , hath brought you forth a daughter :
+Here 'tis ; commends it to your blessing .
+
+
+Out !
+A mankind witch ! Hence with her , out o' door :
+A most intelligencing bawd !
+
+Not so ;
+I am as ignorant in that as you
+In so entitling me , and no less honest
+Than you are mad ; which is enough , I'll warrant ,
+As this world goes , to pass for honest .
+
+Traitors !
+Will you not push her out ? Give her the bastard .
+
+
+Thou dotard ! thou art woman-tir'd , unroosted
+By thy dame Partlet here . Take up the bastard ;
+Take't up , I say ; give't to thy crone .
+
+For ever
+Unvenerable be thy hands , if thou
+Tak'st up the princess by that forced baseness
+Which he has put upon't !
+
+He dreads his wife .
+
+So I would you did ; then , 'twere past all doubt ,
+You'd call your children yours .
+
+A nest of traitors !
+
+I am none , by this good light .
+
+Nor I ; nor any
+But one that's here , and that's himself ; for he
+The sacred honour of himself , his queen's ,
+His hopeful son's , his babe's , betrays to slander ,
+Whose sting is sharper than the sword's ; and will not ,
+For , as the case now stands , it is a curse
+He cannot be compell'd to't ,once remove
+The root of his opinion , which is rotten
+As ever oak or stone was sound .
+
+A callat
+Of boundless tongue , who late hath beat her husband
+And now baits me ! This brat is none of mine ;
+It is the issue of Polixenes :
+Hence with it ; and , together with the dam
+Commit them to the fire !
+
+It is yours ;
+And , might we lay the old proverb to your charge ,
+'So like you , 'tis the worse .' Behold , my lords ,
+Although the print be little , the whole matter
+And copy of the father ; eye , nose , lip ,
+The trick of's frown , his forehead , nay , the valley ,
+The pretty dimples of his chin and cheek , his smiles ,
+The very mould and frame of hand , nail , finger :
+And thou , good goddess Nature , which hast made it
+So like to him that got it , if thou hast
+The ordering of the mind too , 'mongst all colours
+No yellow in't ; lest she suspect , as he does ,
+Her children not her husband's .
+
+A gross hag !
+And , lozel , thou art worthy to be hang'd ,
+That wilt not stay her tongue .
+
+Hang all the husbands
+That cannot do that feat , you'll leave yourself
+Hardly one subject .
+
+Once more , take her hence .
+
+A most unworthy and unnatural lord
+Can do no more .
+
+I'll ha' thee burn'd .
+
+I care not :
+It is a heretic that makes the fire ,
+Not she which burns in't . I'll not call you tyrant ;
+But this most cruel usage of your queen ,
+Not able to produce more accusation
+Than your own weak-hing'd fancy ,something savours
+Of tyranny , and will ignoble make you ,
+Yea , scandalous to the world .
+
+On your allegiance ,
+Out of the chamber with her ! Were I a tyrant ,
+Where were her life ? she durst not call me so
+If she did know me one . Away with her !
+
+I pray you do not push me ; I'll be gone .
+Look to your babe , my lord ; 'tis yours : Jove send her
+A better guiding spirit ! What need these hands ?
+You , that are thus so tender o'er his follies ,
+Will never do him good , not one of you .
+So , so : farewell ; we are gone .
+
+
+Thou , traitor , hast set on thy wife to this .
+My child ! away with't !even thou , that hast
+A heart so tender o'er it , take it hence
+And see it instantly consum'd with fire :
+Even thou and none but thou . Take it up straight :
+Within this hour bring me word 'tis done ,
+And by good testimony ,or I'll seize thy life ,
+With what thou else call'st thine . If thou refuse
+And wilt encounter with my wrath , say so ;
+The bastard brains with these my proper hands
+Shall I dash out . Go , take it to the fire ;
+For thou sett'st on thy wife .
+
+I did not , sir :
+These lords , my noble fellows , if they please ,
+Can clear me in't .
+
+We can , my royal liege ,
+He is not guilty of her coming hither .
+
+You are liars all .
+
+Beseech your highness , give us better credit :
+We have always truly serv'd you , and beseech you
+So to esteem of us ; and on our knees we beg ,
+As recompense of our dear services
+Past and to come , that you do change this purpose ,
+Which being so horrible , so bloody , must
+Lead on to some foul issue . We all kneel .
+
+I am a feather for each wind that blows .
+Shall I live on to see this bastard kneel
+And call me father ? Better burn it now
+Than curse it then . But , be it ; let it live :
+It shall not neither .
+
+You , sir , come you hither ;
+You that have been so tenderly officious
+With Lady Margery , your midwife there ,
+To save this bastard's life ,for 'tis a bastard ,
+So sure as thy beard's grey ,what will you adventure
+To save this brat's life ?
+
+Any thing , my lord ,
+That my ability may undergo ,
+And nobleness impose : at least , thus much :
+I'll pawn the little blood which I have left ,
+To save the innocent : any thing possible .
+
+It shall be possible . Swear by this sword
+Thou wilt perform my bidding .
+
+I will , my lord .
+
+Mark and perform it ,seest thou !for the fail
+Of any point in't shall not only be
+Death to thyself , but to thy lewd-tongu'd wife ,
+Whom for this time we pardon . We enjoin thee ,
+As thou art liegeman to us , that thou carry
+This female bastard hence ; and that thou bear it
+To some remote and desart place quite out
+Of our dominions ; and that there thou leave it ,
+Without more mercy , to its own protection ,
+And favour of the climate . As by strange fortune
+It came to us , I do in justice charge thee ,
+On thy soul's peril and thy body's torture ,
+That thou commend it strangely to some place ,
+Where chance may nurse or end it . Take it up .
+
+I swear to do this , though a present death
+Had been more merciful . Come on , poor babe :
+Some powerful spirit instruct the kites and ravens
+To be thy nurses ! Wolves and bears , they say ,
+Casting their savageness aside have done
+Like offices of pity . Sir , be prosperous
+In more than this deed doth require ! And blessing
+Against this cruelty fight on thy side ,
+Poor thing , condemn'd to loss !
+
+
+No ; I'll not rear
+Another's issue .
+
+
+Please your highness , posts
+From those you sent to the oracle are come
+An hour since : Cleomenes and Dion ,
+Being well arriv'd from Delphos , are both landed ,
+Hasting to the court .
+
+So please you , sir , their speed
+Hath been beyond account .
+
+Twenty-three days
+They have been absent : 'tis good speed ; foretells
+The great Apollo suddenly will have
+The truth of this appear . Prepare you , lords ;
+Summon a session , that we may arraign
+Our most disloyal lady ; for , as she hath
+Been publicly accus'd , so shall she have
+A just and open trial . While she lives
+My heart will be a burden to me . Leave me ,
+And think upon my bidding .
+
+The climate's delicate , the air most sweet ,
+Fertile the isle , the temple much surpassing
+The common praise it bears .
+
+I shall report ,
+For most it caught me , the celestial habits ,
+Methinks I so should term them ,and the reverence
+Of the grave wearers . O , the sacrifice !
+How ceremonious , solemn , and unearthly
+It was i' the offering !
+
+But of all , the burst
+And the ear-deafening voice o' the oracle ,
+Kin to Jove's thunder , so surpris'd my sense ,
+That I was nothing .
+
+If the event o' the journey
+Prove as successful to the queen ,O , be't so !
+As it hath been to us rare , pleasant , speedy ,
+The time is worth the use on't .
+
+Great Apollo
+Turn all to the best ! These proclamations ,
+So forcing faults upon Hermione ,
+I little like .
+
+The violent carriage of it
+Will clear or end the business : when the oracle ,
+Thus by Apollo's great divine seal'd up ,
+Shall the contents discover , something rare
+Even then will rush to knowledge .Go :fresh horses !
+And gracious be the issue !
+
+
+This sessions , to our great grief we pronounce ,
+Even pushes 'gainst our heart : the party tried
+The daughter of a king , our wife , and one
+Of us too much belov'd . Let us be clear'd
+Of being tyrannous , since we so openly
+Proceed in justice , which shall have due course ,
+Even to the guilt or the purgation .
+Produce the prisoner .
+
+It is his highness' pleasure that the queen
+Appear in person here in court . Silence !
+
+
+Read the indictment .
+
+Hermione , queen to the worthy Leontes , King of Sicilia , thou art here accused and arraigned of high treason , in committing adultery with Polixenes , King of Bohemia , and conspiring with Camillo to take away the life of our sovereign lord the king , thy royal husband : the pretence whereof being by circumstances partly laid open , thou , Hermione , contrary to the faith and allegiance of a true subject , didst counsel and aid them , for their better safety , to fly away by night .
+
+Since what I am to say must be but that
+Which contradicts my accusation , and
+The testimony on my part no other
+But what comes from myself , it shall scarce boot me
+To say 'Not guilty :' mine integrity
+Being counted falsehood , shall , as I express it ,
+Be so receiv'd . But thus : if powers divine
+Behold our human actions , as they do ,
+I doubt not then but innocence shall make
+False accusation blush , and tyranny
+Tremble at patience . You , my lord , best know ,
+Who least will seem to do so ,my past life
+Hath been as continent , as chaste , as true ,
+As I am now unhappy ; which is more
+Than history can pattern , though devis'd
+And play'd to take spectators . For behold me ,
+A fellow of the royal bed , which owe
+A moiety of the throne , a great king's daughter ,
+The mother to a hopeful prince , here standing
+To prate and talk for life and honour 'fore
+Who please to come and hear . For life , I prize it .
+As I weigh grief , which I would spare : for honour ,
+'Tis a derivative from me to mine ,
+And only that I stand for . I appeal
+To your own conscience , sir , before Polixenes
+Came to your court , how I was in your grace ,
+How merited to be so ; since he came ,
+With what encounter so uncurrent I
+Have strain'd , to appear thus : if one jot beyond
+The bound of honour , or in act or will
+That way inclining , harden'd be the hearts
+Of all that hear me , and my near'st of kin
+Cry fie upon my grave !
+
+I ne'er heard yet
+That any of these bolder vices wanted
+Less impudence to gainsay what they did
+Than to perform it first .
+
+That's true enough ;
+Though 'tis a saying , sir , not due to me .
+
+You will not own it .
+
+More than mistress of
+Which comes to me in name of fault , I must not
+At all acknowledge . For Polixenes ,
+With whom I am accus'd ,I do confess
+I lov'd him as in honour he requir'd ,
+With such a kind of love as might become
+A lady like me ; with a love even such ,
+So and no other , as yourself commanded :
+Which not to have done I think had been in me
+Both disobedience and ingratitude
+To you and toward your friend , whose love had spoke ,
+Even since it could speak , from an infant , freely
+That it was yours . Now , for conspiracy ,
+I know not how it tastes , though it be dish'd
+For me to try how : all I know of it
+Is that Camillo was an honest man ;
+And why he left your court , the gods themselves ,
+Wotting no more than I , are ignorant .
+
+You knew of his departure , as you know
+What you have underta'en to do in's absence .
+
+Sir ,
+You speak a language that I understand not :
+My life stands in the level of your dreams ,
+Which I'll lay down .
+
+Your actions are my dreams :
+You had a bastard by Polixenes ,
+And I but dream'd it . As you were past all shame ,
+Those of your fact are so ,so past all truth :
+Which to deny concerns more than avails ; for as
+Thy brat hath been cast out , like to itself ,
+No father owning it ,which is , indeed ,
+More criminal in thee than it ,so thou
+Shalt feel our justice , in whose easiest passage
+Look for no less than death .
+
+Sir , spare your threats :
+The bug which you would fright me with I seek .
+To me can life be no commodity :
+The crown and comfort of my life , your favour ,
+I do give lost ; for I do feel it gone ,
+But know not how it went . My second joy ,
+And first-fruits of my body , from his presence
+I am barr'd , like one infectious . My third comfort ,
+Starr'd most unluckily , is from my breast ,
+The innocent milk in its most innocent mouth ,
+Hal'd out to murder : myself on every post
+Proclaim'd a strumpet : with immodest hatred
+The child-bed privilege denied , which 'longs
+To women of all fashion : lastly , hurried
+Here to this place , i'the open air , before
+I have got strength of limit . Now , my liege ,
+Tell me what blessings I have here alive ,
+That I should fear to die ? Therefore proceed .
+But yet hear this ; mistake me not ; no life ,
+I prize it not a straw :but for mine honour ,
+Which I would free , if I shall be condemn'd
+Upon surmises , all proofs sleeping else
+But what your jealousies awake , I tell you
+'Tis rigour and not law . Your honours all ,
+I do refer me to the oracle :
+Apollo be my judge !
+
+This your request
+Is altogether just : therefore , bring forth ,
+And in Apollo's name , his oracle .
+
+
+The Emperor of Russia was my father :
+O ! that he were alive , and here beholding
+His daughter's trial ; that he did but see
+The flatness of my misery ; yet with eyes
+Of pity , not revenge !
+
+
+You here shall swear upon this sword of justice ,
+That you , Cleomenes and Dion , have
+Been both at Delphos , and from thence have brought
+This seal'd-up oracle , by the hand deliver'd
+Of great Apollo's priest , and that since then
+You have not dar'd to break the holy seal ,
+Nor read the secrets in't .
+
+All this we swear .
+
+All this we swear .
+
+Break up the seals , and read .
+
+Hermione is chaste ; Polixenes blameless ; Camillo a true subject ; Leontes a jealous tyrant ; his innocent babe truly begotten ; and the king shall live without an heir if that which is lost be not found !
+
+Now blessed be the great Apollo !
+
+Praised !
+
+Hast thou read truth ?
+
+Ay , my lord ; even so
+As it is here set down .
+
+There is no truth at all i' the oracle :
+The sessions shall proceed : this is mere falsehood .
+
+
+My lord the king , the king !
+
+What is the business ?
+
+O sir ! I shall be hated to report it :
+The prince your son , with mere conceit and fear
+Of the queen's speed , is gone .
+
+How ! gone !
+
+Is dead .
+
+Apollo's angry ; and the heavens themselves
+Do strike at my injustice .
+
+How now , there !
+
+This news is mortal to the queen : look down ,
+And see what death is doing .
+
+Take her hence :
+Her heart is but o'ercharg'd ; she will recover :
+I have too much believ'd mine own suspicion :
+Beseech you , tenderly apply to her
+Some remedies for life .
+
+Apollo , pardon
+My great profaneness 'gainst thine oracle !
+I'll reconcile me to Polixenes ,
+New woo my queen , recall the good Camillo ,
+Whom I proclaim a man of truth , of mercy ;
+For , being transported by my jealousies
+To bloody thoughts and to revenge , I chose
+Camillo for the minister to poison
+My friend Polixenes : which had been done ,
+But that the good mind of Camillo tardied
+My swift command ; though I with death and with
+Reward did threaten and encourage him ,
+Not doing it , and being done : he , most humane
+And fill'd with honour , to my kingly guest
+Unclasp'd my practice , quit his fortunes here ,
+Which you knew great , and to the certain hazard
+Of all incertainties himself commended ,
+No richer than his honour : how he glisters
+Thorough my rust ! and how his piety
+Does my deeds make the blacker !
+
+
+Woe the while !
+O , cut my lace , lest my heart , cracking it ,
+Break too !
+
+What fit is this , good lady ?
+
+What studied torments , tyrant , hast for me ?
+What wheels ? racks ? fires ? What flaying ? or what boiling
+In leads , or oils ? what old or newer torture
+Must I receive , whose every word deserves
+To taste of thy most worst ? Thy tyranny ,
+Together working with thy jealousies ,
+Fancies too weak for boys , too green and idle
+For girls of nine , O ! think what they have done ,
+And then run mad indeed , stark mad ; for all
+Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it .
+That thou betray'dst Polixenes , 'twas nothing ;
+That did but show thee of a fool , inconstant
+And damnable ingrateful ; nor was't much
+Thou wouldst have poison'd good Camillo's honour
+To have him kill a king ; poor trespasses ,
+More monstrous standing by : whereof I reckon
+The casting forth to crows thy baby daughter
+To be or none or little ; though a devil
+Would have shed water out of fire ere done't :
+Nor is't directly laid to thee , the death
+Of the young prince , whose honourable thoughts ,
+Thoughts high for one so tender ,cleft the heart
+That could conceive a gross and foolish sire
+Blemish'd his gracious dam : this is not , no ,
+Laid to thy answer : but the last ,O lords !
+When I have said , cry , 'woe !' the queen , the queen ,
+The sweetest , dearest creature's dead , and vengeance for't
+Not dropp'd down yet .
+
+The higher powers forbid !
+
+I say she's dead ; I'll swear't : if word nor oath
+Prevail not , go and see : if you can bring
+Tincture or lustre in her lip , her eye ,
+Heat outwardly , or breath within , I'll serve you
+As I would do the gods . But , O thou tyrant !
+Do not repent these things , for they are heavier
+Than all thy woes can stir ; therefore betake thee
+To nothing but despair . A thousand knees
+Ten thousand years together , naked , fasting ,
+Upon a barren mountain , and still winter
+In storm perpetual , could not move the gods
+To look that way thou wert .
+
+Go on , go on ;
+Thou canst not speak too much : I have deserv'd
+All tongues to talk their bitterest .
+
+Say no more :
+Howe'er the business goes , you have made fault
+I' the boldness of your speech .
+
+I am sorry for't :
+All faults I make , when I shall come to know them ,
+I do repent . Alas ! I have show'd too much
+The rashness of a woman : he is touch'd
+To the noble heart . What's gone and what's past help
+Should be past grief : do not receive affliction
+At my petition ; I beseech you , rather
+Let me be punish'd , that have minded you
+Of what you should forget . Now , good my liege ,
+Sir , royal sir , forgive a foolish woman :
+The love I bore your queen ,lo , fool again !
+I'll speak of her no more , nor of your children ;
+I'll not remember you of my own lord ,
+Who is lost too : take your patience to you ,
+And I'll say nothing .
+
+Thou didst speak but well ,
+When most the truth , which I receive much better
+Than to be pitied of thee . Prithee , bring me
+To the dead bodies of my queen and son :
+One grave shall be for both : upon them shall
+The causes of their death appear , unto
+Our shame perpetual . Once a day I'll visit
+The chapel where they lie , and tears shed there
+Shall be my recreation : so long as nature
+Will bear up with this exercise , so long
+I daily vow to use it . Come and lead me
+Unto these sorrows .
+
+
+Thou art perfect , then , our ship hath touch'd upon
+The desarts of Bohemia ?
+
+Ay , my lord ; and fear
+We have landed in ill time : the skies look grimly
+And threaten present blusters . In my conscience ,
+The heavens with that we have in hand are angry ,
+And frown upon's .
+
+Their sacred wills be done ! Go , get aboard ;
+Look to thy bark : I'll not be long before
+I call upon thee .
+
+Make your best haste , and go not
+Too far i' the land : 'tis like to be loud weather ;
+Besides , this place is famous for the creatures
+Of prey that keep upon't .
+
+Go thou away :
+I'll follow instantly .
+
+I am glad at heart
+To be so rid of the business .
+
+
+Come , poor babe :
+I have heard , but not believ'd , the spirits o' the dead
+May walk again : if such thing be , thy mother
+Appear'd to me last night , for ne'er was dream
+So like a waking . To me comes a creature ,
+Sometimes her head on one side , some another ;
+I never saw a vessel of like sorrow ,
+So fill'd , and so becoming : in pure white robes ,
+Like very sanctity , she did approach
+My cabin where I lay ; thrice bow'd before me ,
+And , gasping to begin some speech , her eyes
+Became two spouts : the fury spent , anon
+Did this break from her : 'Good Antigonus ,
+Since fate , against thy better disposition ,
+Hath made thy person for the thrower-out
+Of my poor babe , according to thine oath ,
+Places remote enough are in Bohemia ,
+There weep and leave it crying ; and , for the babe
+Is counted lost for ever , Perdita ,
+I prithee , call't : for this ungentle business ,
+Put on thee by my lord , thou ne'er shalt see
+Thy wife Paulina more :' and so , with shrieks ,
+She melted into air . Affrighted much ,
+I did in time collect myself , and thought
+This was so and no slumber . Dreams are toys ;
+Yet for this once , yea , superstitiously ,
+I will be squar'd by this . I do believe
+Hermione hath suffer'd death ; and that
+Apollo would , this being indeed the issue
+Of King Polixenes , it should here be laid ,
+Either for life or death , upon the earth
+Of its right father . Blossom , speed thee well !
+
+There lie ; and there thy character : there these ;
+
+Which may , if fortune please , both breed thee , pretty ,
+And still rest thine . The storm begins : poor wretch !
+That for thy mother's fault art thus expos'd
+To loss and what may follow . Weep I cannot ,
+But my heart bleeds , and most accurs'd am I
+To be by oath enjoin'd to this . Farewell !
+The day frowns more and more : thou art like to have
+A lullaby too rough . I never saw
+The heavens so dim by day . A savage clamour !
+Well may I get aboard ! This is the chase :
+I am gone for ever .
+
+I would there were no age between sixteen and three-and-twenty , or that youth would sleep out the rest ; for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child , wronging the ancientry , stealing , fighting . Hark you now ! Would any but these boiled brains of nineteen and two-and-twenty hunt this weather ? They have scared away two of my best sheep ; which I fear the wolf will sooner find than the master : if anywhere I have them , 'tis by the sea-side , browsing of ivy . Good luck , an't be thy will ! what have we here ?
+
+Mercy on's , a barne ; a very pretty barne ! A boy or a child , I wonder ? A pretty one ; a very pretty one ; sure some scape : though I am not bookish , yet I can read waiting-gentlewoman in the scape . This has been some stair-work , some trunk-work , some behind-door-work ; they were warmer that got this than the poor thing is here . I'll take it up for pity ; yet I'll tarry till my son come ; he hollaed but even now . Whoa , ho , hoa !
+
+
+Hilloa , loa !
+
+What ! art so near ? If thou'lt see a thing to talk on when thou art dead and rotten , come hither . What ailest thou , man ?
+
+I have seen two such sights by sea and by land ! but I am not to say it is a see , for it is now the sky : betwixt the firmament and it you cannot thrust a bodkin's point .
+
+Why , boy , how is it ?
+
+I would you did but see how it chafes , how it rages , how it takes up the shore ! but that's not to the point . O ! the most piteous cry of the poor souls ; sometimes to see 'em , and not to see 'em ; now the ship boring the moon with her mainmast , and anon swallowed with yest and froth , as you'd thrust a cork into a hogshead . And then for the land-service : to see how the bear tore out his shoulderbone ; how he cried to me for help and said his name was Antigonus , a nobleman . But to make an end of the ship : to see how the sea flap-dragoned it : but , first , how the poor souls roared , and the sea mocked them ; and how the poor gentleman roared , and the bear mocked him , both roaring louder than the sea or weather .
+
+Name of mercy ! when was this , boy ?
+
+Now , now ; I have not winked since I saw these sights : the men are not yet cold under water , nor the bear half dined on the gentleman : he's at it now .
+
+Would I had been by , to have helped the old man !
+
+I would you had been by the ship's side , to have helped her : there your charity would have lacked footing .
+
+Heavy matters ! heavy matters ! but look thee here , boy . Now bless thyself : thou mettest with things dying , I with things new born . Here's a sight for thee ; look thee , a bearing-cloth for a squire's child ! Look thee here : take up , take up , boy ; open't . So , let's see : it was told me , I should be rich by the fairies : this is some changeling .Open't . What's within , boy ?
+
+You're a made old man : if the sins of your youth are forgiven you , you're well to live . Gold ! all gold !
+
+This is fairy gold , boy , and 'twill prove so : up with't , keep it close : home , home , the next way . We are lucky , boy ; and to be so still , requires nothing but secrecy . Let my sheep go . Come , good boy , the next way home .
+
+Go you the next way with your findings . I'll go see if the bear be gone from the gentleman , and how much he hath eaten : they are never curst but when they are hungry . If there be any of him left , I'll bury it .
+
+That's a good deed . If thou mayst discern by that which is left of him what he is , fetch me to the sight of him .
+
+Marry , will I ; and you shall help to put him i' the ground .
+
+'Tis a lucky day , boy , and we'll do good deeds on't .
+
+I , that please some , try all , both joy and terror
+Of good and bad , that make and unfold error ,
+Now take upon me , in the name of Time ,
+To use my wings . Impute it not a crime
+To me or my swift passage , that I slide
+O'er sixteen years , and leave the growth untried
+Of that wide gap ; since it is in my power
+To o'erthrow law , and in one self-born hour
+To plant and o'erwhelm custom . Let me pass
+The same I am , ere ancient'st order was
+Or what is now receiv'd : I witness to
+The times that brought them in ; so shall I do
+To the freshest things now reigning , and make stale
+The glistering of this present , as my tale
+Now seems to it . Your patience this allowing ,
+I turn my glass and give my scene such growing
+As you had slept between . Leontes leaving ,
+The effects of his fond jealousies so grieving ,
+That he shuts up himself ,imagine me ,
+Gentle spectators , that I now may be
+In fair Bohemia ; and remember well ,
+I mention'd a son o' the king's , which Florizel
+I now name to you ; and with speed so pace
+To speak of Perdita , now grown in grace
+Equal with wondering : what of her ensues
+I list not prophesy ; but let Time's news
+Be known when 'tis brought forth . A shepherd's daughter ,
+And what to her adheres , which follows after ,
+Is th' argument of Time . Of this allow ,
+If ever you have spent time worse ere now :
+If never , yet that Time himself doth say
+He wishes earnestly you never may .
+
+I pray thee , good Camillo , be no more importunate : 'tis a sickness denying thee anything ; a death to grant this .
+
+It is fifteen years since I saw my country : though I have for the most part been aired abroad , I desire to lay my bones there . Besides , the penitent king , my master , hath sent for me ; to whose feeling sorrows I might be some allay , or I o'erween to think so , which is another spur to my departure .
+
+As thou lovest me , Camillo , wipe not out the rest of thy services by leaving me now . The need I have of thee thine own goodness hath made : better not to have had thee than thus to want thee . Thou , having made me businesses which none without thee can sufficiently manage , must either stay to execute them thyself or take away with thee the very services thou hast done ; which if I have not enough considered ,as too much I cannot ,to be more thankful to thee shall be my study , and my profit therein , the heaping friendships . Of that fatal country , Sicilia , prithee speak no more , whose very naming punishes me with the remembrance of that penitent , as thou callest him , and reconciled king , my brother ; whose loss of his most precious queen and children are even now to be afresh lamented . Say to me , when sawest thou the Prince Florizel , my son ? Kings are no less unhappy , their issue not being gracious , than they are in losing them when they have approved their virtues .
+
+Sir , it is three days since I saw the prince . What his happier affairs may be , are to me unknown ; but I have missingly noted he is of late much retired from court , and is less frequent to his princely exercises than formerly he hath appeared .
+
+I have considered so much , Camillo , and with some care ; so far , that I have eyes under my service which look upon his removedness ; from whom I have this intelligence , that he is seldom from the house of a most homely shepherd ; a man , they say , that from very nothing , and beyond the imagination of his neighbours , is grown into an unspeakable estate .
+
+I have heard , sir , of such a man , who hath a daughter of most rare note : the report of her is extended more than can be thought to begin from such a cottage .
+
+That's likewise part of my intelligence ; but I fear , the angle that plucks our son thither . Thou shalt accompany us to the place ; where we will , not appearing what we are , have some question with the shepherd ; from whose simplicity I think it not uneasy to get the cause of my son's resort thither . Prithee , be my present partner in this business , and lay aside the thoughts of Sicilia .
+
+I willingly obey your command .
+
+My best Camillo !We must disguise ourselves .
+
+When daffodils begin to peer ,
+With heigh ! the doxy , over the dale ,
+Why , then comes in the sweet o' the year ;
+For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale .
+
+
+The white sheet bleaching on the hedge ,
+With heigh ! the sweet birds , O , how they sing !
+Doth set my pugging tooth on edge ;
+For a quart of ale is a dish for a king
+
+
+The lark , that tirra-lirra chants ,
+With , heigh ! with , heigh ! the thrush and the jay ,
+Are summer songs for me and my aunts ,
+While we lie tumbling in the hay .
+
+
+I have served Prince Florizel , and in my time wore three-pile ; but now I am out of service :
+
+But shall I go mourn for that , my dear ?
+The pale moon shines by night ;
+And when I wander here and there ,
+I then do most go right .
+If tinkers may have leave to live ,
+And bear the sow-skin bowget ,
+Then my account I well may give ,
+And in the stocks avouch it
+
+My traffic is sheets ; when the kite builds , look to lesser linen . My father named me Autolycus ; who being , as I am , littered under Mercury , was likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles . With die and drab I purchased this caparison , and my revenue is the silly cheat . Gallows and knock are too powerful on the highway : beating and hanging are terrors to me : for the life to come , I sleep out the thought of it . A prize ! a prize !
+
+
+Let me see : Every 'leven wether tods ; every tod yields pound and odd shilling : fifteen hundred shorn , what comes the wool to ?
+
+If the springe hold , the cock's mine .
+
+I cannot do't without compters . Let me see ; what am I to buy for our sheep-shearing feast ? 'Three pound of sugar ; five pound of currants ; rice ,' what will this sister of mine do with rice ? But my father hath made her mistress of the feast , and she lays it on . She hath made me four-and-twenty nosegays for the shearers , three-man song-men all , and very good ones ; but they are most of them means and bases : but one puritan amongst them , and he sings psalms to hornpipes . I must have saffron , to colour the warden pies ; mace , dates ,none ; that's out of my note :nutmegs seven ; a race or two of ginger ,but that I may beg ;four pound of prunes , and as many of raisins o' the sun .
+
+O ! that ever I was born !
+
+
+I' the name of me !
+
+O ! help me , help me ! pluck but off these rags , and then death , death !
+
+Alack , poor soul ! thou hast need of more rags to lay on thee , rather than have these off .
+
+O , sir ! the loathsomeness of them offends me more than the stripes I have received , which are mighty ones and millions .
+
+Alas , poor man ! a million of beating may come to a great matter .
+
+I am robbed , sir , and beaten ; my money and apparel ta'en from me , and these detestable things put upon me .
+
+What , by a horseman or a footman ?
+
+A footman , sweet sir , a footman .
+
+Indeed , he should be a footman , by the garments he hath left with thee : if this be a horseman's coat , it hath seen very hot service . Lend me thy hand , I'll help thee : come , lend me thy hand .
+
+
+O ! good sir , tenderly , O !
+
+Alas , poor soul !
+
+O ! good sir ; softly , good sir ! I fear , sir , my shoulder-blade is out .
+
+How now ! canst stand ?
+
+Softly , dear sir ;
+
+good sir , softly . You ha' done me a charitable office .
+
+Dost lack any money ? I have a little money for thee .
+
+No , good sweet sir : no , I beseech you , sir . I have a kinsman not past three-quarters of a mile hence , unto whom I was going : I shall there have money , or anything I want : offer me no money , I pray you ! that kills my heart .
+
+What manner of fellow was he that robbed you ?
+
+A fellow , sir , that I have known to go about with trol-my-dames : I knew him once a servant of the prince . I cannot tell , good sir , for which of his virtues it was , but he was certainly whipped out of the court .
+
+His vices , you would say : there's no virtue whipped out of the court : they cherish it , to make it stay there , and yet it will no more but abide .
+
+Vices , I would say , sir . I know this man well : he hath been since an ape-bearer ; then a process-server , a bailiff ; then he compassed a motion of the Prodigal Son , and married a tinker's wife within a mile where my land and living lies ; and having flown over many knavish professions , he settled only in rogue : some call him Autolycus .
+
+Out upon him ! Prig , for my life , prig : he haunts wakes , fairs , and bear-baitings .
+
+Very true , sir ; he , sir , he : that's the rogue that put me into this apparel .
+
+Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bohemia : if you had but looked big and spit at him , he'd have run .
+
+I must confess to you , sir , I am no fighter : I am false of heart that way , and that he knew , I warrant him .
+
+How do you now ?
+
+Sweet sir , much better than I was : I can stand and walk . I will even take my leave of you , and pace softly towards my kinsman's .
+
+Shall I bring thee on the way ?
+
+No , good-faced sir ; no , sweet sir .
+
+Then fare thee well : I must go buy spices for our sheep-shearing .
+
+Prosper you , sweet sir !
+
+Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your spice . I'll be with you at your sheep-shearing too . If I make not this cheat bring out another , and the shearers prove sheep , let me be unrolled , and my name put in the book of virtue .
+
+Jog on , jog on , the footpath way ,
+And merrily hent the stile-a :
+A merry heart goes all the day ,
+Your sad tares in a mile-a .
+
+These your unusual weeds to each part of you
+Do give a life : no shepherdess , but Flora
+Peering in April's front . This your sheep-shearing
+Is as a meeting of the petty gods ,
+And you the queen on't .
+
+Sir , my gracious lord ,
+To chide at your extremes it not becomes me :
+O ! pardon , that I name them . Your high self ,
+The gracious mark o' the land , you have obscur'd
+With a swain's wearing , and me , poor lowly maid ,
+Most goddess-like prank'd up . But that our feasts
+In every mess have folly , and the feeders
+Digest it with a custom , I should blush
+To see you so attired ,swoon , I think ,
+To show myself a glass .
+
+I bless the time
+When my good falcon made her flight across
+Thy father's ground .
+
+Now , Jove afford you cause !
+To me the difference forges dread ; your greatness
+Hath not been us'd to fear . Even now I tremble
+To think , your father , by some accident ,
+Should pass this way as you did . O , the Fates !
+How would he look , to see his work , so noble ,
+Vilely bound up ? What would he say ? Or how
+Should I , in these my borrow'd flaunts , behold
+The sternness of his presence ?
+
+Apprehend
+Nothing but jollity . The gods themselves ,
+Humbling their deities to love , have taken
+The shapes of beasts upon them : Jupiter
+Became a bull , and bellow'd ; the green Neptune
+A ram , and bleated ; and the fire-rob'd god ,
+Golden Apollo , a poor humble swain ,
+As I seem now . Their transformations
+Were never for a piece of beauty rarer ,
+Nor in a way so chaste , since my desires
+Run not before mine honour , nor my lusts
+Burn hotter than my faith .
+
+O ! but , sir ,
+Your resolution cannot hold , when 'tis
+Oppos'd , as it must be , by the power of the king .
+One of these two must be necessities ,
+Which then will speak , that you must change this purpose ,
+Or I my life .
+
+Thou dearest Perdita ,
+With these forc'd thoughts , I prithee , darken not
+The mirth o' the feast : or I'll be thine , my fair ,
+Or not my father's ; for I cannot be
+Mine own , nor anything to any , if
+I be not thine : to this I am most constant ,
+Though destiny say no . Be merry , gentle ;
+Strangle such thoughts as these with any thing
+That you behold the while . Your guests are coming :
+Lift up your countenance , as it were the day
+Of celebration of that nuptial which
+We two have sworn shall come .
+
+O lady Fortune ,
+Stand you auspicious !
+
+See , your guests approach :
+Address yourself to entertain them sprightly ,
+And let's be red with mirth .
+
+
+Fie , daughter ! when my old wife liv'd , upon
+This day she was both pantler , butler , cook ;
+Both dame and servant ; welcom'd all , serv'd all ,
+Would sing her song and dance her turn ; now here ,
+At upper end o' the table , now i' the middle ;
+On his shoulder , and his ; her face o' fire
+With labour and the thing she took to quench it ,
+She would to each one sip . You are retir'd ,
+As if you were a feasted one and not
+The hostess of the meeting : pray you , bid
+These unknown friends to's welcome ; for it is
+A way to make us better friends , more known .
+Come , quench your blushes and present yourself
+That which you are , mistress o' the feast : come on ,
+And bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing ,
+As your good flock shall prosper .
+
+Sir , welcome :
+It is my father's will I should take on me
+The hostess-ship o' the day :
+
+You're welcome , sir .
+Give me those flowers there , Dorcas . Reverend sirs ,
+For you there's rosemary and rue ; these keep
+Seeming and savour all the winter long :
+Grace and remembrance be to you both ,
+And welcome to our shearing !
+
+Shepherdess ,
+A fair one are you ,well you fit our ages
+With flowers of winter .
+
+Sir , the year growing ancient ,
+Not yet on summer's death , nor on the birth
+Of trembling winter , the fairest flowers o' the season
+Are our carnations , and streak'd gillyvors ,
+Which some call nature's bastards : of that kind
+Our rustic garden's barren , and I care not
+To get slips of them .
+
+Wherefore , gentle maiden ,
+Do you neglect them ?
+
+For I have heard it said
+There is an art which in their piedness shares
+With great creating nature .
+
+Say there be ;
+Yet nature is made better by no mean
+But nature makes that mean : so , over that art ,
+Which you say adds to nature , is an art
+That nature makes . You see , sweet maid , we marry
+A gentler scion to the wildest stock ,
+And make conceive a bark of baser kind
+By bud of nobler race : this is an art
+Which does mend nature , change it rather , but
+The art itself is nature .
+
+So it is .
+
+Then make your garden rich in gillyvors ,
+And do not call them bastards .
+
+I'll not put
+The dibble in earth to set one slip of them ;
+No more than , were I painted , I would wish
+This youth should say , 'twere well , and only therefore
+Desire to breed by me . Here's flowers for you ;
+Hot lavender , mints , savory , marjoram ;
+The marigold , that goes to bed wi' the sun ,
+And with him rises weeping : these are flowers
+Of middle summer , and I think they are given
+To men of middle age . You're very welcome .
+
+I should leave grazing , were I of your flock ,
+And only live by gazing .
+
+Out , alas !
+You'd be so lean , that blasts of January
+Would blow you through and through . Now , my fair'st friend ,
+I would I had some flowers o' the spring that might
+Become your time of day ; and yours , and yours ,
+That wear upon your virgin branches yet
+Your maidenheads growing : O Proserpina !
+For the flowers now that frighted thou let'st fall
+From Dis's waggon ! daffodils ,
+That come before the swallow dares , and take
+The winds of March with beauty ; violets dim ,
+But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes
+Or Cytherea's breath ; pale prime-roses ,
+That die unmarried , ere they can behold
+Bright Ph bus in his strength , a malady
+Most incident to maids ; bold oxlips and
+The crown imperial ; lilies of all kinds ,
+The flower-de-luce being one . O ! these I lack
+To make you garlands of , and my sweet friend ,
+To strew him o'er and o'er !
+
+What ! like a corse ?
+
+No , like a bank for love to lie and play on ;
+Not like a corse ; or if ,not to be buried ,
+But quick and in mine arms . Come , take your flowers :
+Methinks I play as I have seen them do
+In Whitsun pastorals : sure this robe of mine
+Does change my disposition .
+
+What you do
+Still betters what is done . When you speak , sweet ,
+I'd have you do it ever : when you sing ,
+I'd have you buy and sell so ; so give alms ;
+Pray so ; and , for the ordering your affairs ,
+To sing them too : when you do dance , I wish you
+A wave o' the sea , that you might ever do
+Nothing but that ; move still , still so ,
+And own no other function : each your doing ,
+So singular in each particular ,
+Crowns what you are doing in the present deed ,
+That all your acts are queens .
+
+O Doricles !
+Your praises are too large : but that your youth ,
+And the true blood which fairly peeps through it ,
+Do plainly give you out an unstain'd shepherd ,
+With wisdom I might fear , my Doricles ,
+You woo'd me the false way .
+
+I think you have
+As little skill to fear as I have purpose
+To put you to't . But , come ; our dance , I pray .
+Your hand , my Perdita : so turtles pair
+That never mean to part .
+
+I'll swear for 'em .
+
+This is the prettiest low-born lass that ever
+Ran on the green-sord : nothing she does or seems
+But smacks of something greater than herself ;
+Too noble for this place .
+
+He tells her something
+That makes her blood look out . Good sooth , she is
+The queen of curds and cream .
+
+Come on , strike up .
+
+Mopsa must be your mistress : marry , garlic ,
+To mend her kissing with .
+
+Now , in good time !
+
+Not a word , a word : we stand upon our manners .
+Come , strike up .
+
+
+Pray , good shepherd , what fair swain is this
+Which dances with your daughter ?
+
+They call him Doricles , and boasts himself
+To have a worthy feeding ; but I have it
+Upon his own report and I believe it :
+He looks like sooth . He says he loves my daughter :
+I think so too ; for never gaz'd the moon
+Upon the water as he'll stand and read
+As 'twere my daughter's eyes ; and , to be plain ,
+I think there is not half a kiss to choose
+Who loves another best .
+
+She dances featly .
+
+So she does any thing , though I report it
+That should be silent . If young Doricles
+Do light upon her , she shall bring him that
+Which he not dreams of .
+
+
+O master ! if you did but hear the pedlar at the door , you would never dance again after a tabor and pipe ; no , the bagpipe could not move you . He sings several tunes faster than you'll tell money ; he utters them as he had eaten ballads and all men's ears grew to his tunes .
+
+He could never come better : he shall come in : I love a ballad but even too well , if it be doleful matter merrily set down , or a very pleasant thing indeed and sung lamentably .
+
+He hath songs for man or woman , of all sizes ; no milliner can so fit his customers with gloves : he has the prettiest love-songs for maids ; so without bawdry , which is strange ; with such delicate burthens of dildos and fadings , 'jump her and thump her ;' and where some stretchmouthed rascal would , as it were , mean mischief and break a foul gap into the matter , he makes the maid to answer , 'Whoop , do me no harm , good man ;' puts him off , slights him with 'Whoop , do me no harm , good man .'
+
+This is a brave fellow .
+
+Believe me , thou talkest of an admirable conceited fellow . Has he any unbraided wares ?
+
+He hath ribands of all the colours i' the rainbow ; points more than all the lawyers in Bohemia can learnedly handle , though they come to him by the gross ; inkles , caddisses , cambrics , lawns : why , he sings 'em over , as they were gods or goddesses . You would think a smock were a she-angel , he so chants to the sleeve-hand and the work about the square on't .
+
+Prithee , bring him in , and let him approach singing .
+
+Forewarn him that he use no scurrilous words in's tunes .
+
+
+You have of these pedlars , that have more in them than you'd think , sister .
+
+Ay , good brother , or go about to think .
+
+Lawn as white as driven snow ;
+Cyprus black as e'er was crow ;
+Gloves as sweet as damask roses ;
+Masks for faces and for noses ;
+Bugle-bracelet , necklace-amber ,
+Perfume for a lady's chamber ;
+Golden quoifs and stomachers ,
+For my lads to give their dears ;
+Pins and poking-sticks of steel ;
+What maids lack from head to heel :
+Come buy of me , come ; come buy , come buy ;
+Buy , lads , or else your lasses cry :
+Come buy .
+
+If I were not in love with Mopsa , thou shouldst take no money of me ; but being enthralled as I am , it will also be the bondage of certain ribands and gloves .
+
+I was promised them against the feast ; but they come not too late now .
+
+He hath promised you more than that , or there be liars .
+
+He hath paid you all he promised you : may be he has paid you more , which will shame you to give him again .
+
+Is there no manners left among maids ? will they wear their plackets where they should bear their faces ? Is there not milking-time , when you are going to bed , or kiln-hole , to whistle off these secrets , but you must be tittle-tattling before all our guests ? 'Tis well they are whispering : clamour your tongues , and not a word more .
+
+I have done . Come , you promised me a tawdry lace and a pair of sweet gloves .
+
+Have I not told thee how I was cozened by the way , and lost all my money ?
+
+And indeed , sir , there are cozeners abroad ; therefore it behoves men to be wary .
+
+Fear not thou , man , thou shalt lose nothing here .
+
+I hope so , sir ; for I have about me many parcels of charge .
+
+What hast here ? ballads ?
+
+Pray now , buy some : I love a ballad in print , a-life , for then we are sure they are true .
+
+Here's one to a very doleful tune , how a usurer's wife was brought to bed of twenty money-bags at a burden ; and how she longed to eat adders' heads and toads carbonadoed .
+
+Is it true , think you ?
+
+Very true , and but a month old .
+
+Bless me from marrying a usurer !
+
+Here's the midwife's name to't , one Mistress Taleporter , and five or six honest wives' that were present . Why should I carry lies abroad ?
+
+Pray you now , buy it .
+
+Come on , lay it by : and let's first see moe ballads ; we'll buy the other things anon .
+
+Here's another ballad of a fish that appeared upon the coast on Wednesday the fourscore of April , forty thousand fathom above water , and sung this ballad against the hard hearts of maids : it was thought she was a woman and was turned into a cold fish for she would not exchange flesh with one that loved her . The ballad is very pitiful and as true .
+
+Is it true too , think you ?
+
+Five justices' hands at it , and witnesses more than my pack will hold .
+
+Lay it by too : another .
+
+This is a merry ballad , but a very pretty one .
+
+Let's have some merry ones .
+
+Why , this is a passing merry one , and goes to the tune of 'Two maids wooing a man :' there's scarce a maid westward but she sings it : 'tis in request , I can tell you .
+
+We can both sing it : if thou'lt bear a part thou shalt hear ; 'tis in three parts .
+
+We had the tune on't a month ago .
+
+I can bear my part ; you must know 'tis my occupation : have at it with you .
+
+
+Get you hence , for I must go ,
+Where it fits not you to know .
+
+Whither ?
+
+O ! whither ?
+
+Whither ?
+
+It becomes thy oath full woll ,
+Thou to me thy secrets tell .
+
+Me too : let me go thither .
+
+Or thou go'st to the grange or mill .
+
+If to either , thou dost ill .
+
+Neither .
+
+What , neither ?
+
+Neither .
+
+Thou hast sworn my love to be
+
+Thou hast sworn it more to me :
+Then whither go'st ? say whither ?
+
+
+We'll have this song out anon by ourselves : my father and the gentlemen are in sad talk , and we'll not trouble them : come , bring away thy pack after me . Wenches , I'll buy for you both . Pedlar , let's have the first choice . Follow me , girls .
+
+
+And you shall pay well for 'em .
+
+Will you buy any tape ,
+Or lace for your cape ,
+My dainty duck , my dear-a ?
+Any silk , any thread ,
+Any toys for your head ,
+Of the new'st and fin'st , fin'st wear-a ?
+Come to the pedlar ;
+Money's a meddler ,
+That doth utter all men's ware-a .
+
+
+Master , there is three carters , three shepherds , three neat-herds , three swine-herds , that have made themselves all men of hair ; they call themselves Saltiers ; and they have a dance which the wenches say is a gallimaufry of gambols , because they are not in't ; but they themselves are o' the mind ,if it be not too rough for some that know little but bowling ,it will please plentifully .
+
+Away ! we'll none on't : here has been too much homely foolery already . I know , sir , we weary you .
+
+You weary those that refresh us : pray , let's see these four threes of herdsmen .
+
+One three of them , by their own report , sir , hath danced before the king ; and not the worst of the three but jumps twelve foot and a half by the squier .
+
+Leave your prating : since these good men are pleased let them come in : but quickly now .
+
+Why , they stay at door , sir .
+
+O , father ! you'll know more of that hereafter .
+
+
+Is it not too far gone ? 'Tis time to part them .
+He's simple and tells much .
+
+How now , fair shepherd !
+Your heart is full of something that does take
+Your mind from feasting . Sooth , when I was young ,
+And handed love as you do , I was wont
+To load my she with knacks : I would have ransack'd
+The pedlar's silken treasury and have pour'd it
+To her acceptance ; you have let him go
+And nothing marted with him . If your lass
+Interpretation should abuse and call this
+Your lack of love or bounty , you were straited
+For a reply , at least if you make a care
+Of happy holding her .
+
+Old sir , I know
+She prizes not such trifles as these are .
+The gifts she looks from me are pack'd and lock'd
+Up in my heart , which I have given already ,
+But not deliver'd . O ! hear me breathe my life
+Before this ancient sir , who , it should seem ,
+Hath sometime lov'd : I take thy hand ; this hand ,
+As soft as dove's down , and as white as it ,
+Or Ethiopian's tooth , or the fann'd snow
+That's bolted by the northern blasts twice o'er .
+
+What follows this ?
+How prettily the young swain seems to wash
+The hand was fair before ! I have put you out :
+But to your protestation : let me hear
+What you profess .
+
+Do , and be witness to't .
+
+And this my neighbour too ?
+
+And he , and more
+Than he , and men , the earth , the heavens , and all ;
+That , were I crown'd the most imperial monarch ,
+Thereof most worthy , were I the fairest youth
+That ever made eye swerve , had force and knowledge
+More than was ever man's , I would not prize them
+Without her love : for her employ them all ;
+Commend them and condemn them to her service
+Or to their own perdition .
+
+Fairly offer'd .
+
+This shows a sound affection .
+
+But , my daughter ,
+Say you the like to him ?
+
+I cannot speak
+So well , nothing so well ; no , nor mean better :
+By the pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out
+The purity of his .
+
+Take hands ; a bargain ;
+And , friends unknown , you shall bear witness to't :
+I give my daughter to him , and will make
+Her portion equal his .
+
+O ! that must be
+I' the virtue of your daughter : one being dead ,
+I shall have more than you can dream of yet ;
+Enough then for your wonder . But , come on ;
+Contract us 'fore these witnesses .
+
+Come , your hand ;
+And , daughter , yours .
+
+Soft , swain , awhile , beseech you .
+Have you a father ?
+
+I have ; but what of him ?
+
+Knows he of this ?
+
+He neither does nor shall .
+
+Methinks a father
+Is , at the nuptial of his son , a guest
+That best becomes the table . Pray you , once more ,
+Is not your father grown incapable
+Of reasonable affairs ? is he not stupid
+With age and altering rheums ? can he speak ? hear ?
+Know man from man ? dispute his own estate ?
+Lies he not bed-rid ? and again does nothing
+But what he did being childish ?
+
+No , good sir :
+He has his health and ampler strength indeed
+Than most have of his age .
+
+By my white beard ,
+You offer him , if this be so , a wrong
+Something unfilial . Reason my son
+Should choose himself a wife , but as good reason
+The father ,all whose joy is nothing else
+But fair posterity ,should hold some counsel
+In such a business .
+
+I yield all this ;
+But for some other reasons , my grave sir ,
+Which 'tis not fit you know , I not acquaint
+My father of this business .
+
+Let him know't .
+
+He shall not .
+
+Prithee , let him .
+
+No , he must not .
+
+Let him , my son : he shall not need to grieve
+At knowing of thy choice .
+
+Come , come , he must not .
+Mark our contract .
+
+Mark your divorce , young sir ,
+
+Whom son I dare not call : thou art too base
+To be acknowledg'd : thou a sceptre's heir ,
+That thus affect'st a sheep-hook ! Thou old traitor ,
+I am sorry that by hanging thee I can
+But shorten thy life one week . And thou , fresh piece
+Of excellent witchcraft , who of force must know
+The royal fool thou cop'st with ,
+
+O , my heart !
+
+I'll have thy beauty scratch'd with briers , and made
+More homely than thy state . For thee , fond boy ,
+If I may ever know thou dost but sigh
+That thou no more shalt see this knack ,as never
+I mean thou shalt ,we'll bar thee from succession ;
+Not hold thee of our blood , no , not our kin ,
+Far than Deucalion off : mark thou my words :
+Follow us to the court . Thou , churl , for this time ,
+Though full of our displeasure , yet we free thee
+From the dead blow of it . And you , enchantment ,
+Worthy enough a herdsman ; yea , him too ,
+That makes himself , but for our honour therein ,
+Unworthy thee ,if ever henceforth thou
+These rural latches to his entrance open ,
+Or hoop his body more with thy embraces ,
+I will devise a death as cruel for thee
+As thou art tender to't .
+
+
+Even here undone !
+I was not much afeard ; for once or twice
+I was about to speak and tell him plainly ,
+The self-same sun that shines upon his court
+Hides not his visage from our cottage , but
+Looks on alike . Will't please you , sir , be gone ?
+I told you what would come of this : beseech you ,
+Of your own state take care : this dream of mine
+Being now awake , I'll queen it no inch further ,
+But milk my ewes and weep .
+
+Why , how now , father !
+Speak , ere thou diest .
+
+I cannot speak , nor think ,
+Nor dare to know that which I know . O sir !
+You have undone a man of fourscore three ,
+That thought to fill his grave in quiet , yea ,
+To die upon the bed my father died ,
+To lie close by his honest bones : but now
+Some hangman must put on my shroud and lay me
+Where no priest shovels in dust . O cursed wretch !
+That knew'st this was the prince , and wouldst adventure
+To mingle faith with him . Undone ! undone !
+If I might die within this hour , I have liv'd
+To die when I desire .
+
+
+Why look you so upon me ?
+I am but sorry , not afeard ; delay'd ,
+But nothing alter'd . What I was , I am :
+More straining on for plucking back ; not following
+My leash unwillingly .
+
+Gracious my lord ,
+You know your father's temper : at this time
+He will allow no speech , which I do guess
+You do not purpose to him ; and as hardly
+Will he endure your sight as yet , I fear :
+Then , till the fury of his highness settle ,
+Come not before him .
+
+I not purpose it .
+I think , Camillo ?
+
+Even he , my lord .
+
+How often have I told you 'twould be thus !
+How often said my dignity would last
+But till 'twere known !
+
+It cannot fail but by
+The violation of my faith ; and then
+Let nature crush the sides o' the earth together
+And mar the seeds within ! Lift up thy looks :
+From my succession wipe me , father ; I
+Am heir to my affection .
+
+Be advis'd .
+
+I am ; and by my fancy : if my reason
+Will thereto be obedient , I have reason ;
+If not , my senses , better pleas'd with madness ,
+Do bid it welcome .
+
+This is desperate , sir .
+
+So call it ; but it does fulfil my vow ,
+I needs must think it honesty . Camillo ,
+Not for Bohemia , nor the pomp that may
+Be thereat glean'd , for all the sun sees or
+The close earth wombs or the profound sea hides
+In unknown fathoms , will I break my oath
+To this my fair belov'd . Therefore , I pray you ,
+As you have ever been my father's honour'd friend ,
+When he shall miss me ,as , in faith , I mean not
+To see him any more ,cast your good counsels
+Upon his passion : let myself and fortune
+Tug for the time to come . This you may know
+And so deliver , I am put to sea
+With her whom here I cannot hold on shore ;
+And most opportune to our need , I have
+A vessel rides fast by , but not prepar'd
+For this design . What course I mean to hold
+Shall nothing benefit your knowledge , nor
+Concern me the reporting .
+
+O my lord !
+I would your spirit were easier for advice ,
+Or stronger for your need .
+
+Hark , Perdita .
+
+
+I'll hear you by and by .
+
+He's irremovable ,
+Resolv'd for flight . Now were I happy if
+His going I could frame to serve my turn ,
+Save him from danger , do him love and honour ,
+Purchase the sight again of dear Sicilia
+And that unhappy king , my master , whom
+I so much thirst to see .
+
+Now , good Camillo ,
+I am so fraught with curious business that
+I leave out ceremony .
+
+Sir , I think
+You have heard of my poor services , i' the love
+That I have borne your father ?
+
+Very nobly
+Have you deserv'd : it is my father's music
+To speak your deeds , not little of his care
+To have them recompens'd as thought on .
+
+Well , my lord ,
+If you may please to think I love the king
+And through him what's nearest to him , which is
+Your gracious self , embrace but my direction ,
+If your more ponderous and settled project
+May suffer alteration , on mine honour
+I'll point you where you shall have such receiving
+As shall become your highness ; where you may
+Enjoy your mistress ,from the whom , I see ,
+There's no disjunction to be made , but by ,
+As , heavens forfend ! your ruin ,marry her ;
+And with my best endeavours in your absence
+Your discontenting father strive to qualify ,
+And bring him up to liking .
+
+How , Camillo ,
+May this , almost a miracle , be done ?
+That I may call thee something more than man ,
+And , after that trust to thee .
+
+Have you thought on
+A place whereto you'll go ?
+
+Not any yet ;
+But as the unthought-on accident is guilty
+To what we wildly do , so we profess
+Ourselves to be the slaves of chance and flies
+Of every wind that blows .
+
+Then list to me :
+This follows ; if you will not change your purpose
+But undergo this flight , make for Sicilia ,
+And there present yourself and your fair princess ,
+For so , I see , she must be ,'fore Leontes ;
+She shall be habited as it becomes
+The partner of your bed . Methinks I see
+Leontes opening his free arms and weeping
+His welcomes forth ; asks thee , the son , forgiveness
+As 'twere i' the father's person ; kisses the hands
+Of your fresh princess ; o'er and o'er divides him
+'Twixt his unkindness and his kindness : the one
+He chides to hell , and bids the other grow
+Faster than thought or time .
+
+Worthy Camillo ,
+What colour for my visitation shall I
+Hold up before him ?
+
+Sent by the king your father
+To greet him and to give him comforts . Sir ,
+The manner of your bearing towards him , with
+What you as from your father shall deliver ,
+Things known betwixt us three , I'll write you down :
+The which shall point you forth at every sitting
+What you must say ; that he shall not perceive
+But that you have your father's bosom there
+And speak his very heart .
+
+I am bound to you .
+There is some sap in this .
+
+A course more promising
+Than a wild dedication of yourselves
+To unpath'd waters , undream'd shores , most certain
+To miseries enough : no hope to help you ,
+But as you shake off one to take another ;
+Nothing so certain as your anchors , who
+Do their best office , if they can but stay you
+Where you'll be loath to be . Besides , you know
+Prosperity's the very bond of love ,
+Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together
+Affliction alters .
+
+One of these is true :
+I think affliction may subdue the cheek ,
+But not take in the mind .
+
+Yea , say you so ?
+There shall not at your father's house these seven years
+Be born another such .
+
+My good Camillo ,
+She is as forward of her breeding as
+She is i' the rear o' her birth .
+
+I cannot say 'tis pity
+She lacks instructions , for she seems a mistress
+To most that teach .
+
+Your pardon , sir ; for this
+I'll blush you thanks .
+
+My prettiest Perdita !
+But O ! the thorns we stand upon . Camillo ,
+Preserver of my father , now of me ,
+The med'cine of our house , how shall we do ?
+We are not furnish'd like Bohemia's son ,
+Nor shall appear in Sicilia .
+
+My lord ,
+Fear none of this : I think you know my fortunes
+Do all lie there : it shall be so my care
+To have you royally appointed as if
+The scene you play were mine . For instance , sir ,
+That you may know you shall not want , one word .
+
+Ha , ha ! what a fool Honesty is ! and Trust , his sworn brother , a very simple gentleman ! I have sold all my trumpery : not a counterfeit stone , not a riband , glass , pomander , brooch , table-book , ballad , knife , tape , glove , shoe-tie , bracelet , horn-ring , to keep my pack from fasting : they throng who should buy first , as if my trinkets had been hallowed and brought a benediction to the buyer : by which means I saw whose purse was best in picture ; and what I saw , to my good use I remembered . My clown ,who wants but something to be a reasonable man ,grew so in love with the wenches' song that he would not stir his pettitoes till he had both tune and words ; which so drew the rest of the herd to me that all their other senses stuck in ears : you might have pinched a placket , it was senseless ; 'twas nothing to geld a codpiece of a purse ; I would have filed keys off that hung in chains : no hearing , no feeling , but my sir's song , and admiring the nothing of it ; so that , in this time of lethargy I picked and cut most of their festival purses ; and had not the old man come in with a whoo-bub against his daughter and the king's son , and scared my choughs from the chaff , I had not left a purse alive in the whole army .
+
+
+Nay , but my letters , by this means being there
+So soon as you arrive , shall clear that doubt .
+
+And those that you'll procure from King Leontes
+
+Shall satisfy your father .
+
+Happy be you !
+All that you speak shows fair .
+
+Whom have we here ?
+We'll make an instrument of this : omit
+Nothing may give us aid .
+
+If they have overheard me now , why , hanging .
+
+How now , good fellow ! Why shakest thou so ? Fear not , man ; here's no harm intended to thee .
+
+I am a poor fellow , sir .
+
+Why , be so still ; here's nobody will steal that from thee ; yet , for the outside of thy poverty we must make an exchange ; therefore , discase thee instantly ,thou must think , there's a necessity in't ,and change garments with this gentleman : though the pennyworth on his side be the worst , yet hold thee , there's some boot .
+
+I am a poor fellow , sir .
+
+I know ye well enough .
+
+Nay , prithee , dispatch : the gentleman is half flayed already .
+
+Are you in earnest , sir ?
+
+I smell the trick on't .
+
+Dispatch , I prithee .
+
+Indeed , I have had earnest ; but I cannot with conscience take it .
+
+Unbuckle , unbuckle .
+
+Fortunate mistress ,let my prophecy
+Come home to ye !you must retire yourself
+Into some covert : take your sweetheart's hat
+And pluck it o'er your brows ; muffle your face ;
+Dismantle you , and , as you can , disliken
+The truth of your own seeming ; that you may ,
+For I do fear eyes over you ,to shipboard
+Get undescried .
+
+I see the play so lies
+That I must bear a part .
+
+No remedy .
+Have you done there ?
+
+Should I now meet my father
+He would not call me son .
+
+Nay , you shall have no hat .
+
+Come , lady , come . Farewell , my friend .
+
+Adieu , sir .
+
+O Perdita , what have we twain forgot !
+Pray you , a word .
+
+
+What I do next shall be to tell the king
+Of this escape , and whither they are bound ;
+Wherein my hope is I shall so prevail
+To force him after : in whose company
+I shall review Sicilia , for whose sight
+I have a woman's longing .
+
+Fortune speed us !
+Thus we set on , Camillo , to the sea-side .
+
+The swifter speed the better .
+
+
+I understand the business ; I hear it . To have an open ear , a quick eye , and a nimble hand , is necessary for a cut-purse : a good nose is requisite also , to smell out work for the other senses . I see this is the time that the unjust man doth thrive . What an exchange had this been without boot ! what a boot is here with this exchange ! Sure , the gods do this year connive at us , and we may do anything extempore . The prince himself is about a piece of iniquity ; stealing away from his father with his clog at his heels . If I thought it were a piece of honesty to acquaint the king withal , I would not do't : I hold it the more knavery to conceal it , and therein am I constant to my profession . Aside , aside : here is more matter for a hot brain . Every lane's end , every shop , church , session , hanging , yields a careful man work .
+
+
+See , see , what a man you are now ! There is no other way but to tell the king she's a changeling and none of your flesh and blood .
+
+Nay , but hear me .
+
+Nay , but hear me .
+
+Go to , then .
+
+She being none of your flesh and blood , your flesh and blood has not offended the king ; and so your flesh and blood is not to be punished by him . Show those things you found about her ; those secret things , all but what she has with her : this being done , let the law go whistle : I warrant you .
+
+I will tell the king all , every word , yea , and his son's pranks too ; who , I may say , is no honest man neither to his father nor to me , to go about to make me the king's brother-in-law .
+
+Indeed , brother-in-law was the furthest off you could have been to him , and then your blood had been the dearer by I know not how much an ounce .
+
+Very wisely , puppies !
+
+Well , let us to the king : there is that in this fardel will make him scratch his beard .
+
+I know not what impediment this complaint may be to the flight of my master .
+
+Pray heartily he be at palace .
+
+Though I am not naturally honest , I am so sometimes by chance : let me pocket up my pedlar's excrement . [Takes off his false beard .] How now , rustics ! whither are you bound ?
+
+To the palace , an it like your worship .
+
+Your affairs there , what , with whom , the condition of that fardel , the place of your dwelling , your names , your ages , of what having , breeding , and anything that is fitting to be known , discover .
+
+We are but plain fellows , sir .
+
+A lie ; you are rough and hairy . Let me have no lying ; it becomes none but tradesmen , and they often give us soldiers the lie ; but we pay them for it with stamped coin , not stabbing steel ; therefore they do not give us the lie .
+
+Your worship had like to have given us one , if you had not taken yourself with the manner .
+
+Are you a courtier , an't like you , sir ?
+
+Whether it like me or no , I am a courtier . Seest thou not the air of the court in these enfoldings ? hath not my gait in it the measure of the court ? receives not thy nose court-odour from me ? reflect I not on thy baseness court-contempt ? Think'st thou , for that I insinuate , or toaze from thee thy business , I am therefore no courtier ? I am courtier , cap-a-pe , and one that will either push on or pluck back thy business there : whereupon I command thee to open thy affair .
+
+My business , sir , is to the king .
+
+What advocate hast thou to him ?
+
+I know not , an't like you .
+
+Advocate's the court-word for a pheasant : say you have none .
+
+None , sir ; I have no pheasant , cock nor hen .
+
+How bless'd are we that are not simple men !
+Yet nature might have made me as these are ,
+Therefore I'll not disdain .
+
+This cannot be but a great courtier .
+
+His garments are rich , but he wears them not handsomely .
+
+He seems to be the more noble in being fantastical : a great man , I'll warrant ; I know by the picking on's teeth .
+
+The fardel there ? what's i' the fardel ?
+Wherefore that box ?
+
+Sir , there lies such secrets in this fardel and box which none must know but the king ; and which he shall know within this hour if I may come to the speech of him .
+
+Age , thou hast lost thy labour .
+
+Why , sir ?
+
+The king is not at the palace ; he is gone aboard a new ship to purge melancholy and air himself : for , if thou be'st capable of things serious , thou must know the king is full of grief .
+
+So 'tis said , sir , about his son , that should have married a shepherd's daughter .
+
+If that shepherd be not now in hand-fast , let him fly : the curses he shall have , the torture he shall feel , will break the back of man , the heart of monster .
+
+Think you so , sir ?
+
+Not he alone shall suffer what wit can make heavy and vengeance bitter ; but those that are germane to him , though removed fifty times , shall all come under the hangman : which though it be great pity , yet it is necessary . An old sheep-whistling rogue , a ram-tender , to offer to have his daughter come into grace ! Some say he shall be stoned ; but that death is too soft for him , say I : draw our throne into a sheep cote ! all deaths are too few , the sharpest too easy .
+
+Has the old man e'er a son , sir , do you hear , an't like you , sir ?
+
+He has a son , who shall be flayed alive ; then 'nointed over with honey , set on the head of a wasp's nest ; then stand till he be three quarters and a dram dead ; then recovered again with aqua-vit or some other hot infusion ; then , raw as he is , and in the hottest day prognostication proclaims , shall he be set against a brick-wall , the sun looking with a southward eye upon him , where he is to behold him with flies blown to death . But what talk we of these traitorly rascals , whose miseries are to be smiled at , their offences being so capital ? Tell me ,for you seem to be honest plain men ,what you have to the king : being something gently considered , I'll bring you where he is aboard , tender your persons to his presence , whisper him in your behalfs ; and if it be in man besides the king to effect your suits , here is a man shall do it .
+
+He seems to be of great authority : close with him , give him gold ; and though authority be a stubborn bear , yet he is oft led by the nose with gold . Show the inside of your purse to the outside of his hand , and no more ado . Remember , 'stoned ,' and 'flayed alive !'
+
+An't please you , sir , to undertake the business for us , here is that gold I have : I'll make it as much more and leave this young man in pawn till I bring it you .
+
+After I have done what I promised ?
+
+Ay , sir .
+
+Well , give me the moiety . Are you a party in this business ?
+
+In some sort , sir : but though my case be a pitiful one , I hope I shall not be flayed out of it .
+
+O ! that's the case of the shepherd's son : hang him , he'll be made an example .
+
+Comfort , good comfort ! we must to the king and show our strange sights : he must know 'tis none of your daughter nor my sister ; we are gone else . Sir , I will give you as much as this old man does when the business is performed ; and remain , as he says , your pawn till it be brought you .
+
+I will trust you . Walk before toward the sea-side ; go on the right hand , I will but look upon the hedge and follow you .
+
+We are blessed in this man , as I may say , even blessed .
+
+Let's before as he bids us . He was provided to do us good .
+
+
+If I had a mind to be honest I see Fortune would not suffer me : she drops booties in my mouth . I am courted now with a double occasion , gold , and a means to do the prince my master good ; which who knows how that may turn back to my advancement ? I will bring these two moles , these blind ones , aboard him : if he think it fit to shore them again , and that the complaint they have to the king concerns him nothing , let him call me rogue for being so far officious ; for I am proof against that title and what shame else belongs to't . To him will I present them : there may be matter in it .
+
+Sir , you have done enough , and have perform'd
+A saint-like sorrow : no fault could you make
+Which you have not redeem'd ; indeed , paid down
+More penitence than done trespass . At the last ,
+Do as the heavens have done , forget your evil ;
+With them forgive yourself .
+
+Whilst I remember
+Her and her virtues , I cannot forget
+My blemishes in them , and so still think of
+The wrong I did myself ; which was so much ,
+That heirless it hath made my kingdom , and
+Destroy'd the sweet'st companion that e'er man
+Bred his hopes out of .
+
+True , too true , my lord ;
+If one by one you wedded all the world ,
+Or from the all that are took something good ,
+To make a perfect woman , she you kill'd
+Would be unparallel'd .
+
+I think so . Kill'd !
+She I kill'd ! I did so ; but thou strik'st me
+Sorely to say I did : it is as bitter
+Upon thy tongue as in my thought . Now , good now
+Say so but seldom .
+
+Not at all , good lady :
+You might have spoken a thousand things that would
+Have done the time more benefit , and grac'd
+Your kindness better .
+
+You are one of those
+Would have him wed again .
+
+If you would not so ,
+You pity not the state , nor the remembrance
+Of his most sovereign name ; consider little
+What dangers , by his highness' fail of issue ,
+May drop upon his kingdom and devour
+Incertain lookers-on . What were more holy
+Than to rejoice the former queen is well ?
+What holier than for royalty's repair ,
+For present comfort , and for future good ,
+To bless the bed of majesty again
+With a sweet fellow to't ?
+
+There is none worthy ,
+Respecting her that's gone . Besides , the gods
+Will have fulfill'd their secret purposes ;
+For has not the divine Apollo said ,
+Is't not the tenour of his oracle ,
+That King Leontes shall not have an heir
+Till his lost child be found ? which that it shall ,
+Is all as monstrous to our human reason
+As my Antigonus to break his grave
+And come again to me ; who , on my life ,
+Did perish with the infant . 'Tis your counsel
+My lord should to the heavens be contrary ,
+Oppose against their wills .
+
+Care not for issue ;
+The crown will find an heir : great Alexander
+Left his to the worthiest , so his successor
+Was like to be the best .
+
+Good Paulina ,
+Who hast the memory of Hermione ,
+I know , in honour ; O ! that ever I
+Had squar'd me to thy counsel ! then , even now ,
+I might have look'd upon my queen's full eyes ,
+Have taken treasure from her lips ,
+
+And left them
+More rich , for what they yielded .
+
+Thou speak'st truth .
+No more such wives ; therefore , no wife : one worse ,
+And better us'd , would make her sainted spirit
+Again possess her corpse and on this stage ,
+Where we're offenders now ,appear soul-vex'd ,
+And begin , 'Why to me ?'
+
+Had she such power ,
+She had just cause .
+
+She had ; and would incense me
+To murder her I married .
+
+I should so :
+Were I the ghost that walk'd , I'd bid you mark
+Her eye , and tell me for what dull part in't
+You chose her ; then I'd shriek , that even your ears
+Should rift to hear me ; and the words that follow'd
+Should be 'Remember mine .'
+
+Stars , stars !
+And all eyes else dead coals . Fear thou no wife ;
+I'll have no wife , Paulina .
+
+Will you swear
+Never to marry but by my free leave ?
+
+Never , Paulina : so be bless'd my spirit !
+
+Then , good my lords , bear witness to his oath .
+
+You tempt him over much .
+
+Unless another ,
+As like Hermione as is her picture ,
+Affront his eye .
+
+Good madam ,
+
+I have done .
+Yet , if my lord will marry ,if you will , sir ,
+No remedy , but you will ,give me the office
+To choose you a queen , she shall not be so young
+As was your former ; but she shall be such
+As , walk'd your first queen's ghost , it should take joy
+To see her in your arms .
+
+My true Paulina ,
+We shall not marry till thou bidd'st us .
+
+That
+Shall be when your first queen's again in breath ;
+Never till then .
+
+
+One that gives out himself Prince Florizel ,
+Son of Polixenes , with his princess ,she
+The fairest I have yet beheld ,desires access
+To your high presence .
+
+What with him ? he comes not
+Like to his father's greatness ; his approach ,
+So out of circumstance and sudden , tells us
+'Tis not a visitation fram'd , but forc'd
+By need and accident . What train ?
+
+But few ,
+And those but mean .
+
+His princess , say you , with him ?
+
+Ay , the most peerless piece of earth , I think ,
+That e'er the sun shone bright on .
+
+O Hermione !
+As every present time doth boast itself
+Above a better gone , so must thy grave
+Give way to what's seen now . Sir , you yourself
+Have said and writ so ,but your writing now
+Is colder than that theme ,'She had not been ,
+Nor was not to be equall'd ;' thus your verse
+Flow'd with her beauty once : 'tis shrewdly ebb'd
+To say you have seen a better .
+
+Pardon , madam :
+The one I have almost forgot your pardon
+The other , when she has obtain'd your eye ,
+Will have your tongue too . This is a creature ,
+Would she begin a sect , might quench the zeal
+Of all professors else , make proselytes
+Of who she but bid follow .
+
+How ! not women ?
+
+Women will love her , that she is a woman
+More worth than any man ; men , that she is
+The rarest of all women .
+
+Go , Cleomenes ;
+Yourself , assisted with your honour'd friends ,
+Bring them to our embracement . Still 'tis strange ,
+
+He thus should steal upon us .
+
+Had our prince
+Jewel of children seen this hour , he had pair'd
+Well with this lord : there was not full a month
+Between their births .
+
+Prithee , no more : cease ! thou know'st
+He dies to me again when talk'd of : sure ,
+When I shall see this gentleman , thy speeches
+Will bring me to consider that which may
+Unfurnish me of reason . They are come .
+
+
+Your mother was most true to wedlock , prince ;
+For she did print your royal father off ,
+Conceiving you . Were I but twenty-one ,
+Your father's image is so hit in you ,
+His very air , that I should call you brother ,
+As I did him ; and speak of something wildly
+By us perform'd before . Most dearly welcome !
+And you , fair princess ,goddess ! O , alas !
+I lost a couple , that 'twixt heaven and earth
+Might thus have stood begetting wonder as
+You , gracious couple , do : and then I lost
+All mine own folly the society ,
+Amity too , of your brave father , whom ,
+Though bearing misery , I desire my life
+
+Once more to look on him .
+
+By his command
+Have I here touch'd Sicilia ; and from him
+Give you all greetings that a king , at friend ,
+Can send his brother : and , but infirmity ,
+Which waits upon worn times ,hath something seiz'd
+His wish'd ability , he had himself
+The land and waters 'twixt your throne and his
+Measur'd to look upon you , whom he loves
+He bade me say so more than all the sceptres
+And those that bear them living .
+
+O , my brother !
+Good gentleman ,the wrongs I have done thee stir
+Afresh within me , and these thy offices
+So rarely kind , are as interpreters
+Of my behind-hand slackness ! Welcome hither ,
+As is the spring to the earth . And hath he too
+Expos'd this paragon to the fearful usage
+At least ungentle of the dreadful Neptune ,
+To greet a man not worth her pains , much less
+The adventure of her person ?
+
+Good my lord ,
+She came from Libya .
+
+Where the war-like Smalus ,
+That noble honour'd lord , is fear'd and lov'd ?
+
+Most royal sir , from thence ; from him , whose daughter
+His tears proclaim'd his , parting with her : thence
+A prosperous south-wind friendly we have cross'd ,
+To execute the charge my father gave me
+For visiting your highness : my best train
+I have from your Sicilian shores dismiss'd ;
+Who for Bohemia bend , to signify
+Not only my success in Libya , sir ,
+But my arrival and my wife's , in safety
+Here where we are .
+
+The blessed gods
+Purge all infection from our air whilst you
+Do climate here ! You have a holy father ,
+A graceful gentleman ; against whose person ,
+So sacred as it is , I have done sin :
+For which the heavens , taking angry note ,
+Have left me issueless ; and your father's bless'd
+As he from heaven merits it with you ,
+Worthy his goodness . What might I have been ,
+Might I a son and daughter now have look'd on ,
+Such goodly things as you !
+
+
+Most noble sir ,
+That which I shall report will bear no credit ,
+Were not the proof so nigh . Please you , great sir ,
+Bohemia greets you from himself by me ;
+Desires you to attach his son , who has
+His dignity and duty both cast off
+Fled from his father , from his hopes , and with
+A shepherd's daughter .
+
+Where's Bohemia ? speak .
+
+Here in your city ; I now came from him :
+I speak amazedly , and it becomes
+My marvel and my message . To your court
+Whiles he was hastening ,in the chase it seems
+Of this fair couple ,meets he on the way
+The father of this seeming lady and
+Her brother , having both their country quitted
+With this young prince .
+
+Camillo has betray'd me ;
+Whose honour and whose honesty till now
+Endur'd all weathers .
+
+Lay't so to his charge :
+He's with the king your father .
+
+Who ? Camillo ?
+
+Camillo , sir : I spake with him , who now
+Has these poor men in question . Never saw I
+Wretches so quake : they kneel , they kiss the earth ,
+Forswear themselves as often as they speak :
+Bohemia stops his ears , and threatens them
+With divers deaths in death .
+
+O my poor father !
+The heaven sets spies upon us , will not have
+Our contract celebrated .
+
+You are married ?
+
+We are not , sir , nor are we like to be ;
+The stars , I see , will kiss the valleys first :
+The odds for high and low's alike .
+
+My lord ,
+Is this the daughter of a king ?
+
+She is ,
+When once she is my wife .
+
+That 'once ,' I see , by your good father's speed ,
+Will come on very slowly . I am sorry ,
+Most sorry , you have broken from his liking
+Where you were tied in duty ; and as sorry
+Your choice is not so rich in worth as beauty ,
+That you might well enjoy her .
+
+Dear , look up :
+Though Fortune , visible an enemy ,
+Should chase us with my father , power no jot
+Hath she to change our loves . Beseech you , sir ,
+Remember since you ow'd no more to time
+Than I do now ; with thought of such affections ,
+Step forth mine advocate ; at your request
+My father will grant precious things as trifles
+
+Would he do so , I'd beg your precious mistress ,
+Which he counts but a trifle .
+
+Sir , my liege ,
+Your eye hath too much youth in't : not a month
+'Fore your queen died , she was more worth such gazes
+Than what you look on now .
+
+I thought of her ,
+Even in these looks I made .
+
+But your petition
+Is yet unanswer'd . I will to your father :
+Your honour not o'erthrown by your desires ,
+I am friend to them and you ; upon which errand
+I now go toward him . Therefore follow me ,
+And mark what way I make : come , good my lord .
+
+
+Beseech you , sir , were you present at this relation ?
+
+I was by at the opening of the fardel , heard the old shepherd deliver the manner how he found it : whereupon , after a little amazedness , we were all commanded out of the chamber ; only this methought I heard the shepherd say , he found the child .
+
+I would most gladly know the issue of it .
+
+I make a broken delivery of the business ; but the changes I perceived in the king and Camillo were very notes of admiration : they seemed almost , with staring on one another , to tear the cases of their eyes ; there was speech in their dumbness , language in their very gesture ; they looked as they had heard of a world ransomed , or one destroyed : a notable passion of wonder appeared in them ; but the wisest beholder , that knew no more but seeing , could not say if the importance were joy or sorrow ; but in the extremity of the one it must needs be .
+
+Here comes a gentleman that haply knows more . The news , Rogero ?
+
+Nothing but bonfires : the oracle is fulfilled ; the king's daughter is found : such a deal of wonder is broken out within this hour that ballad-makers cannot be able to express it .
+
+Here comes the lady Paulina's steward : he can deliver you more . How goes it now , sir ? this news which is called true is so like an old tale , that the verity of it is in strong suspicion : has the king found his heir ?
+
+Most true , if ever truth were pregnant by circumstance : that which you hear you'll swear you see , there is such unity in the proofs . The mantle of Queen Hermione , her jewel about the neck of it , the letters of Antigonus found with it , which they know to be his character ; the majesty of the creature in resemblance of the mother , the affection of nobleness which nature shows above her breeding , and many other evidences proclaim her with all certainty to be the king's daughter . Did you see the meeting of the two kings ?
+
+No .
+
+Then have you lost a sight , which was to be seen , cannot be spoken of . There might you have beheld one joy crown another , so , and in such manner that , it seemed , sorrow wept to take leave of them , for their joy waded in tears . There was casting up of eyes , holding up of hands , with countenances of such distraction that they were to be known by garment , not by favour . Our king , being ready to leap out of himself for joy of his found daughter , as if that joy were now become a loss , cries , 'O , thy mother , thy mother !' then asks Bohemia forgiveness ; then embraces his son-in-law ; then again worries he his daughter with clipping her ; now he thanks the old shepherd , which stands by like a weather-bitten conduit of many kings' reigns . I never heard of such another encounter , which lames report to follow it and undoes description to do it .
+
+What , pray you , became of Antigonus that carried hence the child ?
+
+Like an old tale still , which will have matter to rehearse , though credit be asleep and not an ear open . He was torn to pieces with a bear : this avouches the shepherd's son , who has not only his innocence which seems much to justify him , but a handkerchief and rings of his that Paulina knows .
+
+What became of his bark and his followers ?
+
+Wracked , the same instant of their master's death , and in the view of the shepherd : so that all the instruments which aided to expose the child were even then lost when it was found . But , O ! the noble combat that 'twixt joy and sorrow was fought in Paulina . She had one eye declined for the loss of her husband , another elevated that the oracle was fulfilled : she lifted the princess from the earth , and so locks her in embracing , as if she would pin her to her heart that she might no more be in danger of losing .
+
+The dignity of this act was worth the audience of kings and princes , for by such was it acted .
+
+One of the prettiest touches of all , and that which angled for mine eyes ,caught the water though not the fish ,was when at the relation of the queen's death , with the manner how she came to it ,bravely confessed and lamented by the king ,how attentiveness wounded his daughter ; till , from one sign of dolour to another , she did , with an 'alas !' I would fain say , bleed tears , for I am sure my heart wept blood . Who was most marble there changed colour ; some swounded , all sorrowed : if all the world could have seen't , the woe had been universal .
+
+Are they returned to the court ?
+
+No ; the princess hearing of her mother's statue , which is in the keeping of Paulina a piece many years in doing , and now newly performed by that rare Italian master , Julio Romano ; who , had he himself eternity and could put breath into his work , would beguile Nature of her custom , so perfectly he is her ape : he so near to Hermione hath done Hermione that they say one would speak to her and stand in hope of answer : thither with all greediness of affection are they gone , and there they intend to sup .
+
+I thought she had some great matter there in hand , for she hath privately , twice or thrice a day , ever since the death of Hermione , visited that removed house . Shall we thither and with our company piece the rejoicing ?
+
+Who would be thence that has the benefit of access ? every wink of an eye some new grace will be born : our absence makes us unthrifty to our knowledge . Let's along .
+
+
+Now , had I not the dash of my former life in me , would preferment drop on my head . I brought the old man and his son aboard the prince ; told him I heard them talk of a fardel and I know not what ; but he at that time , overfond of the shepherd's daughter ,so he then took her to be ,who began to be much sea-sick , and himself little better , extremity of weather continuing , this mystery remained undiscovered . But 'tis all one to me ; for had I been the finder out of this secret , it would not have relished among my other discredits . Here come those I have done good to against my will , and already appearing in the blossoms of their fortune .
+
+
+Come , boy ; I am past moe children , but thy sons and daughters will be all gentlemen born .
+
+You are well met , sir . You denied to fight with me this other day , because I was no gentleman born : see you these clothes ? say , you see them not and think me still no gentleman born : you were best say these robes are not gentleman born . Give me the lie , do , and try whether I am not now gentleman born .
+
+I know you are now , sir , a gentleman born .
+
+Ay , and have been so any time these four hours .
+
+And so have I , boy .
+
+So you have : but I was a gentleman born before my father ; for the king's son took me by the hand and called me brother ; and then the two kings called my father brother ; and then the prince my brother and the princess my sister called my father father ; and so we wept : and there was the first gentleman-like tears that ever we shed .
+
+We may live , son , to shed many more .
+
+Ay ; or else 'twere hard luck , being in so preposterous estate as we are .
+
+I humbly beseech you , sir , to pardon me all the faults I have committed to your worship , and to give me your good report to the prince my master .
+
+Prithee , son , do ; for we must be gentle , now we are gentlemen .
+
+Thou wilt amend thy life ?
+
+Ay , an it like your good worship .
+
+Give me thy hand : I will swear to the prince thou art as honest a true fellow as any is in Bohemia .
+
+You may say it , but not swear it .
+
+Not swear it , now I am a gentleman ? Let boors and franklins say it , I'll swear it .
+
+How if it be false , son ?
+
+If it be ne'er so false , a true gentleman may swear it in the behalf of his friend : and I'll swear to the prince thou art a tall fellow of thy hands and that thou wilt not be drunk ; but I know thou art no tall fellow of thy hands and that thou wilt be drunk : but I'll swear it , and I would thou wouldst be a tall fellow of thy hands .
+
+I will prove so , sir , to my power .
+
+Ay , by any means prove a tall fellow : if I do not wonder how thou darest venture to be drunk , not being a tall fellow , trust me not . Hark ! the kings and the princes , our kindred , are going to see the queen's picture . Come , follow us : we'll be thy good masters .
+
+
+O grave and good Paulina , the great comfort
+That I have had of thee !
+
+What , sovereign sir ,
+I did not well , I meant well . All my services
+You have paid home ; but that you have vouchsaf'd ,
+With your crown'd brother and these your contracted
+Heirs of your kingdoms , my poor house to visit ,
+It is a surplus of your grace , which never
+My life may last to answer .
+
+O Paulina !
+We honour you with trouble : but we came
+To see the statue of our queen : your gallery
+Have we pass'd through , not without much content
+In many singularities , but we saw not
+That which my daughter came to look upon ,
+The statue of her mother .
+
+As she liv'd peerless ,
+So her dead likeness , I do well believe ,
+Excels whatever yet you look'd upon
+Or hand of man hath done ; therefore I keep it
+Lonely , apart . But here it is : prepare
+To see the life as lively mock'd as ever
+Still sleep mock'd death : behold ! and say 'tis well .
+
+I like your silence : it the more shows off
+Your wonder ; but yet speak : first you , my liege .
+Comes it not something near ?
+
+Her natural posture !
+Chide me , dear stone , that I may say , indeed
+Thou art Hermione ; or rather , thou art she
+In thy not chiding , for she was as tender
+As infancy and grace . But yet , Paulina ,
+Hermione was not so much wrinkled ; nothing
+So aged as this seems .
+
+O ! not by much .
+
+So much the more our carver's excellence ;
+Which lets go by some sixteen years and makes her
+As she liv'd now .
+
+As now she might have done ,
+So much to my good comfort , as it is
+Now piercing to my soul . O ! thus she stood ,
+Even with such life of majesty ,warm life ,
+As now it coldly stands ,when first I woo'd her .
+I am asham'd : does not the stone rebuke me
+For being more stone than it ? O , royal piece !
+There's magic in thy majesty , which has
+My evils conjur'd to remembrance , and
+From thy admiring daughter took the spirits ,
+Standing like stone with thee .
+
+And give me leave ,
+And do not say 'tis superstition , that
+I kneel and then implore her blessing . Lady ,
+Dear queen , that ended when I but began ,
+Give me that hand of yours to kiss .
+
+O , patience !
+The statue is but newly fix'd , the colour's
+Not dry .
+
+My lord , your sorrow was too sore laid on ,
+Which sixteen winters cannot blow away ,
+So many summers dry : scarce any joy
+Did ever so long live ; no sorrow
+But kill'd itself much sooner .
+
+Dear my brother ,
+Let him that was the cause of this have power
+To take off so much grief from you as he
+Will piece up in himself .
+
+Indeed , my lord ,
+If I had thought the sight of my poor image
+Would thus have wrought you ,for the stone is mine ,
+I'd not have show'd it .
+
+Do not draw the curtain .
+
+No longer shall you gaze on't , lest your fancy
+May think anon it moves .
+
+Let be , let be !
+Would I were dead , but that , methinks , already
+What was he that did make it ? See , my lord ,
+Would you not deem it breath'd , and that those veins
+Did verily bear blood ?
+
+Masterly done :
+The very life seems warm upon her lip .
+
+The fixure of her eye has motion in't ,
+As we are mock'd with art .
+
+I'll draw the curtain ;
+My lord's almost so far transported that
+He'll think anon it lives .
+
+O sweet Paulina !
+Make me to think so twenty years together :
+No settled senses of the world can match
+The pleasure of that madness . Let't alone .
+
+I am sorry , sir , I have thus far stirr'd you : but
+I could afflict you further .
+
+Do , Paulina ;
+For this affliction has a taste as sweet
+As any cordial comfort . Still , methinks ,
+There is an air comes from her : what fine chisel
+Could ever yet cut breath ? Let no man mock me ,
+For I will kiss her .
+
+Good my lord , forbear .
+The ruddiness upon her lip is wet :
+You'll mar it if you kiss it ; stain your own
+With oily painting . Shall I draw the curtain ?
+
+No , not these twenty years .
+
+So long could I
+Stand by , a looker-on .
+
+Either forbear ,
+Quit presently the chapel , or resolve you
+For more amazement . If you can behold it ,
+I'll make the statue move indeed , descend ,
+And take you by the hand ; but then you'll think ,
+Which I protest against ,I am assisted
+By wicked powers .
+
+What you can make her do ,
+I am content to look on : what to speak ,
+I am content to hear ; for 'tis as easy
+To make her speak as move .
+
+It is requir'd
+You do awake your faith . Then , all stand still ;
+Or those that think it is unlawful business
+I am about , let them depart .
+
+Proceed :
+No foot shall stir .
+
+Music , awake her : strike !
+
+'Tis time ; descend ; be stone no more : approach ;
+Strike all that look upon with marvel . Come ;
+I'll fill your grave up : stir ; nay , come away ;
+Bequeath to death your numbness , for from him
+Dear life redeems you . You perceive she stirs :
+
+Start not ; her actions shall be holy as
+You hear my spell is lawful : do not shun her
+Until you see her die again , for then
+You kill her double . Nay , present your hand :
+When she was young you woo'd her ; now in age
+Is she become the suitor !
+
+O ! she's warm .
+If this be magic , let it be an art
+Lawful as eating .
+
+She embraces him .
+
+She hangs about his neck :
+If she pertain to life let her speak too .
+
+Ay ; and make't manifest where she has liv'd ,
+Or how stol'n from the dead .
+
+That she is living ,
+Were it but told you , should be hooted at
+Like an old tale ; but it appears she lives ,
+Though yet she speak not . Mark a little while .
+Please you to interpose , fair madam . kneel
+And pray your mother's blessing . Turn , good lady ;
+Our Perdita is found .
+
+
+You gods , look down ,
+And from your sacred vials pour your graces
+Upon my daughter's head ! Tell me , mine own ,
+Where hast thou been preserv'd ? where liv'd ? how found
+Thy father's court ? for thou shalt hear that I ,
+Knowing by Paulina that the oracle
+Gave hope thou wast in being , have preserv'd
+Myself to see the issue .
+
+There's time enough for that ;
+Lest they desire upon this push to trouble
+Your joys with like relation . Go together ,
+You precious winners all : your exultation
+Partake to every one . I , an old turtle ,
+Will wing me to some wither'd bough , and there
+My mate , that's never to be found again ,
+Lament till I am lost .
+
+O ! peace , Paulina .
+Thou shouldst a husband take by my consent ,
+As I by thine a wife : this is a match ,
+And made between's by vows . Thou hast found mine ;
+But how , is to be question'd ; for I saw her ,
+As I thought dead , and have in vain said many
+A prayer upon her grave . I'll not seek far ,
+For him , I partly know his mind ,to find thee
+An honourable husband . Come , Camillo ,
+And take her by the hand ; whose worth and honesty
+Is richly noted , and here justified
+By us , a pair of kings . Let's from this place .
+What ! look upon my brother : both your pardons ,
+That e'er I put between your holy looks
+My ill suspicion . This' your son-in-law ,
+And son unto the king ,whom heavens directing ,
+Is troth-plight to your daughter . Good Paulina ,
+Lead us from hence , where we may leisurely
+Each one demand and answer to his part
+Perform'd in this wide gap of time since first
+We were dissever'd : hastily lead away .
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA
+
+In Troy there lies the scene . From isles of Greece
+The princes orgulous , their high blood chaf'd ,
+Have to the port of Athens sent their ships ,
+Fraught with the ministers and instruments
+Of cruel war : sixty and nine , that wore
+Their crownets regal , from the Athenian bay
+Put forth toward Phrygia ; and their vow is made
+To ransack Troy , within whose strong immures
+The ravish'd Helen , Menelaus' queen ,
+With wanton Paris sleeps ; and that's the quarrel .
+To Tenedos they come ,
+And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge
+Their war-like fraughtage : now on Dardan plains
+The fresh and yet unbruised Greeks do pitch
+Their brave pavilions : Priam's six-gated city ,
+Dardan , and Tymbria , Ilias , Chetas , Trojan ,
+And Antenorides , with massy staples
+And corresponsive and fulfilling bolts ,
+Sperr up the sons of Troy .
+Now expectation , tickling skittish spirits ,
+On one and other side , Trojan and Greek ,
+Sets all on hazard . And hither am I come
+A prologue arm'd , but not in confidence
+Of author's pen or actor's voice , but suited
+In like conditions as our argument ,
+To tell you , fair beholders , that our play
+Leaps o'er the vaunt and firstlings of those broils ,
+Beginning in the middle ; starting thence away
+To what may be digested in a play .
+Like or find fault ; do as your pleasures are :
+Now good or bad , 'tis but the chance of war .
+
+Call here my varlet , I'll unarm again :
+Why should I war without the walls of Troy ,
+That find such cruel battle here within ?
+Each Trojan that is master of his heart ,
+Let him to field ; Troilus , alas ! has none .
+
+Will this gear ne'er be mended ?
+
+The Greeks are strong , and skilful to their strength .
+Fierce to their skill , and to their fierceness valiant ;
+But I am weaker than a woman's tear ,
+Tamer than sleep , fonder than ignorance ,
+Less valiant than the virgin in the night ,
+And skilless as unpractis'd infancy .
+
+Well , I have told you enough of this : for my part , I'll not meddle nor make no further . He that will have a cake out of the wheat must tarry the grinding .
+
+Have I not tarried ?
+
+Ay , the grinding ; but you must tarry the bolting .
+
+Have I not tarried ?
+
+Ay , the bolting ; but you must tarry the leavening .
+
+Still have I tarried .
+
+Ay , to the leavening ; but here's yet in the word 'hereafter' the kneading , the making of the cake , the heating of the oven , and the baking ; nay , you must stay the cooling too , or you may chance to burn your lips .
+
+Patience herself , what goddess e'er she be ,
+Doth lesser blench at sufferance than I do .
+At Priam's royal table do I sit ;
+And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts ,
+So , traitor ! 'when she comes' !When is she thence ?
+
+Well , she looked yesternight fairer than ever I saw her look , or any woman else .
+
+I was about to tell thee : when my heart ,
+As wedged with a sigh , would rive in twain ,
+Lest Hector or my father should perceive me ,
+I have as when the sun doth light a storm
+Buried this sigh in wrinkle of a smile ;
+But sorrow , that is couch'd in seeming gladness ,
+Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness .
+
+An her hair were not somewhat darker than Helen's ,well , go to ,there were no more comparison between the women : but , for my part , she is my kins woman ; I would not , as they term it , praise her , but I would somebody had heard her talk yesterday , as I did : I will not dispraise your sister Cassandra's wit , but
+
+O Pandarus ! I tell thee , Pandarus ,
+When I do tell thee , there my hopes lie drown'd ,
+Reply not in how many fathoms deep
+They lie indrench'd . I tell thee I am mad
+In Cressid's love : thou answer'st , she is fair ;
+Pour'st in the open ulcer of my heart
+Her eyes , her hair , her cheek , her gait , her voice ;
+Handlest in thy discourse , O ! that her hand ,
+In whose comparison all whites are ink ,
+Writing their own reproach ; to whose soft seizure
+The cygnet's down is harsh , and spirit of sense
+Hard as the palm of ploughman : this thou tell'st me ,
+As true thou tell'st me , when I say I love her ;
+But , saying thus , instead of oil and balm ,
+Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given me
+The knife that made it .
+
+I speak no more than truth .
+
+Thou dost not speak so much .
+
+Faith , I'll not meddle in't . Let her be as she is : if she be fair , 'tis the better for her ; an she be not , she has the mends in her own hands .
+
+Good Pandarus , how now , Pandarus !
+
+I have had my labour for my travail ; ill-thought on of her , and ill-thought on of you : gone between , and between , but small thanks for my labour .
+
+What ! art thou angry , Pandarus ? what ! with me ?
+
+Because she's kin to me , therefore she's not so fair as Helen : an she were not kin to me , she would be as fair on Friday as Helen is on Sunday . But what care I ? I care not an she were a black-a-moor ; 'tis all one to me .
+
+Say I she is not fair ?
+
+I do not care whether you do or no . She's a fool to stay behind her father : let her to the Greeks ; and so I'll tell her the next time I see her . For my part , I'll meddle nor make no more i' the matter .
+
+Pandarus ,
+
+Not I .
+
+Sweet Pandarus ,
+
+Pray you , speak no more to me ! I will leave all as I found it , and there an end .
+
+
+Peace , you ungracious clamours ! peace , rude sounds !
+Fools on both sides ! Helen must needs bo fair ,
+When with your blood you daily paint her thus .
+I cannot fight upon this argument ;
+It is too starv'd a subject for my sword .
+But Pandarus ,O gods ! how do you plague me .
+I cannot come to Cressid but by Pandar ;
+And he's as tetchy to be woo'd to woo
+As she is stubborn-chaste against all suit .
+Tell me , Apollo , for thy Daphne's love ,
+What Cressid is , what Pandar , and what we ?
+Her bed is India ; there she lies , a pearl :
+Between our Ilium and where she resides
+Let it be call'd the wild and wandering flood ;
+Ourself the merchant , and this sailing Pandar
+Our doubtful hope , our convoy and our bark .
+
+
+How now , Prince Troilus ! wherefore not afield ?
+
+Because not there : this woman's answer sorts ,
+For womanish it is to be from thence .
+What news , neas , from the field to-day ?
+
+That Paris is returned home , and hurt .
+
+By whom , neas ?
+
+Troilus , by Menelaus .
+
+Let Paris bleed : 'tis but a scar to scorn ;
+Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn .
+
+
+Hark , what good sport is out of town to-day !
+
+Better at home , if 'would I might' were 'may .'
+But to the sport abroad : are you bound thither ?
+
+In all swift haste .
+
+Come , go we then together .
+
+
+Who were those went by ?
+
+Queen Hecuba and Helen .
+
+And whither go they ?
+
+Up to the eastern tower ,
+Whose height commands as subject all the vale ,
+To see the battle . Hector , whose patience
+Is as a virtue fix'd , to-day was mov'd :
+He chid Andromache , and struck his armourer ;
+And , like as there were husbandry in war ,
+Before the sun rose he was harness'd light ,
+And to the field goes he ; where every flower
+Did , as a prophet , weep what it foresaw
+In Hector's wrath .
+
+What was his cause of anger ?
+
+The noise goes , this : there is among the Greeks
+A lord of Trojan blood , nephew to Hector ;
+They call him Ajax .
+
+Good ; and what of him ?
+
+They say he is a very man per se
+And stands alone .
+
+So do all men , unless they are drunk , sick , or have no legs .
+
+This man , lady , hath robbed many beasts of their particular additions : he is as valiant as the lion , churlish as the bear , slow as the elephant : a man into whom nature hath so crowded humours that his valour is crushed into folly , his folly sauced with discretion : there is no man hath a virtue that he hath not a glimpse of , nor any man an attaint but he carries some stain of it . He is melancholy without cause , and merry against the hair ; he hath the joints of every thing , but every thing so out of joint that he is a gouty Briareus , many hands and no use ; or purblind Argus , all eyes and no sight .
+
+But how should this man , that makes me smile , make Hector angry ?
+
+They say he yesterday coped Hector in the battle and struck him down ; the disdain and shame whereof hath ever since kept Hector fasting and waking .
+
+Who comes here ?
+
+
+Madam , your uncle Pandarus .
+
+Hector's a gallant man .
+
+As may be in the world , lady .
+
+What's that ? what's that ?
+
+Good morrow , uncle Pandarus .
+
+Good morrow , cousin Cressid . What do you talk of ? Good morrow , Alexander .
+How do you , cousin ? When were you at Ilium ?
+
+This morning , uncle .
+
+What were you talking of when I came ? Was Hector armed and gone ere ye came to Ilium ? Helen was not up , was she ?
+
+Hector was gone , but Helen was not up .
+
+E'en so : Hector was stirring early .
+
+That were we talking of , and of his anger .
+
+Was he angry ?
+
+So he says here .
+
+True , he was so ; I know the cause too : he'll lay about him to-day , I can tell them that : and there's Troilus will not come far behind him ; let them take heed of Troilus , I can tell them that too .
+
+What ! is he angry too ?
+
+Who , Troilus ? Troilus is the better man of the two .
+
+O Jupiter ! there's no comparison .
+
+What ! not between Troilus and Hector ?
+Do you know a man if you see him ?
+
+Ay , if I ever saw him before and knew him .
+
+Well , I say Troilus is Troilus .
+
+Then you say as I say ; for I am sure he is not Hector .
+
+No , nor Hector is not Troilus in some degrees .
+
+'Tis just to each of them ; he is himself .
+
+Himself ! Alas , poor Troilus , I would he were .
+
+So he is .
+
+Condition , I had gone bare-foot to India .
+
+He is not Hector .
+
+Himself ! no , he's not himself . Would a' were himself : well , the gods are above ; time must friend or end : well , Troilus , well , I would my heart were in her body . No , Hector is not a better man than Troilus .
+
+Excuse me .
+
+He is elder .
+
+Pardon me , pardon me .
+
+Th' other's not come to't ; you shall tell me another tale when the other's come to't . Hector shall not have his wit this year .
+
+He shall not need it if he have his own .
+
+Nor his qualities .
+
+No matter .
+
+Nor his beauty .
+
+'Twould not become him ; his own's better .
+
+You have no judgment , niece : Helen herself swore th' other day , that Troilus , for a brown favour ,for so 'tis I must confess ,not brown neither ,
+
+No , but brown .
+
+Faith , to say truth , brown and not brown .
+
+To say the truth , true and not true .
+
+She prais'd his complexion above Paris .
+
+Why , Paris hath colour enough .
+
+So he has .
+
+Then Troilus should have too much : if she praised him above , his complexion is higher than his : he having colour enough , and the other higher , is too flaming a praise for a good complexion . I had as lief Helen's golden tongue had commended Troilus for a copper nose .
+
+I swear to you , I think Helen loves him better than Paris .
+
+Then she's a merry Greek indeed .
+
+Nay , I am sure she does . She came to him th' other day into the compassed window , and , you know , he has not past three or four hairs on his chin ,
+
+Indeed , a tapster's arithmetic may soon bring his particulars therein to a total .
+
+Why , he is very young ; and yet will he , within three pound , lift as much as his brother Hector .
+
+Is he so young a man , and so old a lifter ?
+
+But to prove to you that Helen loves him : she came and puts me her white hand to his cloven chin ,
+
+Juno have mercy ! how came it cloven ?
+
+Why , you know , 'tis dimpled . I think his smiling becomes him better than any man in all Phrygia .
+
+O ! he smiles valiantly .
+
+Does he not ?
+
+O ! yes , an 'twere a cloud in autumn .
+
+Why , go to , then . But to prove to you that Helen loves Troilus ,
+
+Troilus will stand to the proof , if you'll prove it so .
+
+Troilus ! why he esteems her no more than I esteem an addle egg .
+
+If you love an addle egg as well as you love an idle head , you would eat chickens i' the shell .
+
+I cannot choose but laugh , to think how she tickled his chin : indeed , she has a marvell's white hand , I must needs confess ,
+
+Without the rack .
+
+And she takes upon her to spy a white hair on his chin .
+
+Alas ! poor chin ! many a wart is richer .
+
+But there was such laughing : Queen Hecuba laughed that her eyes ran o'er .
+
+With millstones .
+
+And Cassandra laughed .
+
+But there was more temperate fire under the pot of her eyes : did her eyes run o'er too ?
+
+And Hector laughed .
+
+At what was all this laughing ?
+
+Marry , at the white hair that Helen spied on Troilus' chin .
+
+An't had been a green hair , I should have laughed too .
+
+They laughed not so much at the hair as at his pretty answer .
+
+What was his answer ?
+
+Quoth she , 'Here's but one-and-fifty hairs on your chin , and one of them is white .'
+
+This is her question .
+
+That's true ; make no question of that . 'One-and-fifty hairs ,' quoth he , 'and one white : that white hair is my father , and all the rest are his sons .' 'Jupiter !' quoth she , 'which of these hairs is Paris , my husband ?' 'The forked one ,' quoth he ; 'pluck't out , and give it him .' But there was such laughing , and Helen so blushed , and Paris so chafed , and all the rest so laughed , that it passed .
+
+So let it now , for it has been a great while going by .
+
+Well , cousin , I told you a thing yesterday ; think on't .
+
+So I do .
+
+I'll be sworn 'tis true : he will weep you , an 'twere a man born in April .
+
+And I'll spring up in his tears , an 'twere a nettle against May .
+
+
+Hark ! they are coming from the field . Shall we stand up here , and see them as they pass toward Ilium ? good niece , do ; sweet niece , Cressida .
+
+At your pleasure .
+
+Here , here ; here's an excellent place : here we may see most bravely . I'll tell you them all by their names as they pass by , but mark Troilus above the rest .
+
+Speak not so loud .
+
+
+That's neas : is not that a brave man ? he's one of the flowers of Troy , I can tell you : but mark Troilus ; you shall see anon .
+
+
+Who's that ?
+
+That's Antenor : he has a shrewd wit , I can tell you ; and he's a man good enough : he's one o' the soundest judgments in Troy , whosoever , and a proper man of person . When comes Troilus ? I'll show you Troilus anon : if he see me , you shall see him nod at me .
+
+Will he give you the nod ?
+
+You shall see .
+
+If he do , the rich shall have more .
+
+
+That's Hector , that , that , look you , that ; there's a fellow ! Go thy way , Hector ! There's a brave man , niece . O brave Hector ! Look how he looks ! there's a countenance ! Is't not a brave man ?
+
+O ! a brave man .
+
+Is a' not ? It does a man's heart good . Look you what hacks are on his helmet ! look you yonder , do you see ? look you there : there's no jesting ; there's laying on , take't off who will , as they say : there be hacks !
+
+Be those with swords ?
+
+Swords ? any thing , he cares not ; an the devil come to him , it's all one : by God's lid , it does one's heart good . Yonder comes Paris , yonder comes Paris .
+
+Look ye yonder , niece : is't not a gallant man too , is't not ? Why , this is brave now . Who said he came hurt home to-day ? he's not hurt : why , this will do Helen's heart good now , ha ! Would I could see Troilus now ! You shall see Troilus anon .
+
+Who's that ?
+
+
+That's Helenus . I marvel where Troilus is . That's Helenus . I think he went not forth to-day . That's Helenus .
+
+Can Helenus fight , uncle ?
+
+Helenus ? no , yes , he'll fight indifferent well . I marvel where Troilus is . Hark ! do you not hear the people cry , 'Troilus ?' Helenus is a priest .
+
+What sneaking fellow comes yonder ?
+
+
+Where ? yonder ? that's Deiphobus .
+Tis Troilus ! there's a man , niece ! Hem ! Brave
+Troilus ! the prince of chivalry !
+
+Peace ! for shame , peace !
+
+Mark him ; note him : O brave Troilus ! look well upon him , niece : look you how his sword is bloodied , and his helmet more hacked than Hector's ; and how he looks , and how he goes ! O admirable youth ! he ne'er saw three-and-twenty . Go thy way , Troilus , go thy way ! Had I a sister were a grace , or a daughter a goddess , he should take his choice . O admirable man ! Paris ? Paris is dirt to him ; and , I warrant , Helen , to change , would give an eye to boot .
+
+Here come more .
+
+
+Asses , fools , dolts ! chaff and bran , chaff and bran ! porridge after meat ! I could live and die i' the eyes of Troilus . Ne'er look , ne'er look ; the eagles are gone : crows and daws , crows and daws ! I had rather be such a man as Troilus than Agamemnon and all Greece .
+
+There is among the Greeks Achilles , a better man than Troilus .
+
+Achilles ! a drayman , a porter , a very camel .
+
+Well , well .
+
+'Well , well !' Why , have you any discretion ? have you any eyes ? Do you know what a man is ? Is not birth , beauty , good shape , discourse , manhood , learning , gentleness , virtue , youth , liberality , and so forth , the spice and salt that season a man ?
+
+Ay , a minced man : and then to be baked with no date in the pie , for then the man's date's out .
+
+You are such a woman ! one knows not at what ward you lie .
+
+Upon my back , to defend my belly ; upon my wit , to defend my wiles ; upon my secrecy , to defend mine honesty ; my mask , to defend my beauty ; and you , to defend all these : and at all these wards I lie , at a thousand watches .
+
+Say one of your watches .
+
+Nay , I'll watch you for that ; and that's one of the chiefest of them too : if I cannot ward what I would not have hit , I can watch you for telling how I took the blow ; unless it swell past hiding , and then it's past watching .
+
+You are such another !
+
+
+Sir , my lord would instantly speak with you .
+
+Where ?
+
+At your own house ; there he unarms him .
+
+Good boy , tell him I come .
+
+I doubt he be hurt . Fare ye well , good niece .
+
+Adieu , uncle .
+
+I'll be with you , niece , by and by .
+
+To bring , uncle ?
+
+Ay , a token from Troilus .
+
+By the same token , you are a bawd .
+
+Words , vows , gifts , tears , and love's full sacrifice
+He offers in another's enterprise ;
+But more in Troilus thousand-fold I see
+Than in the glass of Pandar's praise may be .
+Yet hold I off . Women are angels , wooing :
+Things won are done ; joy's soul lies in the doing :
+That she belov'd knows nought that knows not this :
+Men prize the thing ungain'd more than it is :
+That she was never yet , that ever knew
+Love got so sweet as when desire did sue .
+Therefore this maxim out of love I teach :
+Achievement is command ; ungain'd , beseech :
+Then though my heart's content firm love doth bear ,
+Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear .
+
+
+Princes ,
+What grief hath set the jaundice on your cheeks ?
+The ample proposition that hope makes
+In all designs begun on earth below
+Fails in the promis'd largeness : checks and disasters
+Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd ;
+As knots , by the conflux of meeting sap ,
+Infect the sound pine and divert his grain
+Tortive and errant from his course of growth .
+Nor , princes , is it matter new to us
+That we come short of our suppose so far
+That after seven years' siege yet Troy walls stand ;
+Sith every action that hath gone before ,
+Whereof we have record , trial did draw
+Bias and thwart , not answering the aim ,
+And that unbodied figure of the thought
+That gave't surmised shape . Why then , you princes ,
+Do you with cheeks abash'd behold our works ,
+And call them shames ? which are indeed nought else
+But the protractive trials of great Jove ,
+To find persistive constancy in men :
+The fineness of which metal is not found
+In Fortune's love ; for then , the bold and coward ,
+The wise and fool , the artist and unread ,
+The hard and soft , seem all affin'd and kin :
+But , in the wind and tempest of her frown ,
+Distinction , with a broad and powerful fan ,
+Puffing at all , winnows the light away ;
+And what hath mass or matter , by itself
+Lies rich in virtue and unmingled .
+
+With due observance of thy god-like seat ,
+Great Agamemnon , Nestor shall apply
+Thy latest words . In the reproof of chance
+Lies the true proof of men : the sea being smooth ,
+How many shallow bauble boats dare sail
+Upon her patient breast , making their way
+With those of nobler bulk !
+But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage
+The gentle Thetis , and anon behold
+The strong-ribb'd bark through liquid mountains cut ,
+Bounding between the two moist elements ,
+Like Perseus' horse : where's then the saucy boat
+Whose weak untimber'd sides but even now
+Co-rivall'd greatness ? either to harbour fled ,
+Or made a toast for Neptune . Even so
+Doth valour's show and valour's worth divide
+In storms of fortune ; for in her ray and brightness
+The herd hath more annoyance by the breese
+Than by the tiger ; but when the splitting wind
+Makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks ,
+And flies fled under shade , why then the thing of courage ,
+As rous'd with rage , with rage doth sympathize ,
+And with an accent tun'd in self-same key ,
+Retorts to chiding fortune .
+
+Agamemnon ,
+Thou great commander , nerve and bone of Greece ,
+Heart of our numbers , soul and only spirit ,
+In whom the tempers and the minds of all
+Should be shut up , hear what Ulysses speaks .
+Besides the applause and approbation
+The which ,
+
+most mighty for thy place and sway ,
+
+
+And thou most reverend for thy stretch'd-out life ,
+I give to both your speeches , which were such
+As Agamemnon and the hand of Greece
+Should hold up high in brass ; and such again
+As venerable Nestor , hatch'd in silver ,
+Should with a bond of air , strong as the axle-tree
+On which heaven rides , knit all the Greekish ears
+To his experienc'd tongue , yet let it please hoth ,
+Thou great , and wise , to hear Ulysses speak .
+
+Speak , Prince of Ithaca ; and be't of less expect
+That matter needless , of importless burden ,
+Divide thy lips , than we are confident ,
+When rank Thersites opes his mastick jaws ,
+We shall hear music , wit , and oracle .
+
+Troy , yet upon his basis , had been down ,
+And the great Hector's sword had lack'd a master ,
+But for these instances .
+The specialty of rule hath been neglected :
+And look , how many Grecian tents do stand
+Hollow upon this plain , so many hollow factions .
+When that the general is not like the hive
+To whom the foragers shall all repair ,
+What honey is expected ? Degree being vizarded ,
+The unworthiest shows as fairly in the mask .
+The heavens themselves , the planets , and this centre
+Observe degree , priority , and place ,
+Insisture , course , proportion , season , form ,
+Office , and custom , in all line of order :
+And therefore is the glorious planet Sol
+In noble eminence enthron'd and spher'd
+Amidst the other ; whose med'cinable eye
+Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil ,
+And posts , like the commandment of a king ,
+Sans check , to good and bad : but when the planets
+In evil mixture to disorder wander ,
+What plagues , and what portents , what mutiny ,
+What raging of the sea , shaking of earth ,
+Commotion in the winds , frights , changes , horrors ,
+Divert and crack , rend and deracinate
+The unity and married calm of states
+Quite from their fixure ! O ! when degree is shak'd ,
+Which is the ladder to all high designs ,
+The enterprise is sick . How could communities ,
+Degrees in schools , and brotherhoods in cities ,
+Peaceful commerce from dividable shores ,
+The primogenitive and due of birth ,
+Prerogative of age , crowns , sceptres , laurels ,
+But by degree , stand in authentic place ?
+Take but degree away , untune that string ,
+And , hark ! what discord follows ; each thing meets
+In mere oppugnancy : the bounded waters
+Should lift their bosoms higher than the shores ,
+And make a sop of all this solid globe :
+Strength should be lord of imbecility ,
+And the rude son should strike his father dead :
+Force should be right ; or rather , right and wrong
+Between whose endless jar justice resides
+Should lose their names , and so should justice too .
+Then every thing includes itself in power ,
+Power into will , will into appetite ;
+And appetite , a universal wolf ,
+So doubly seconded with will and power ,
+Must make perforce a universal prey ,
+And last eat up himself . Great Agamemnon ,
+This chaos , when degree is suffocate ,
+Follows the choking .
+And this neglection of degree it is
+That by a pace goes backward , with a purpose
+It hath to climb . The general's disdain'd
+By him one step below , he by the next ,
+That next by him beneath ; so every step ,
+Exampled by the first pace that is sick
+Of his superior , grows to an envious fever
+Of pale and bloodless emulation :
+And 'tis this fever that keeps Troy on foot ,
+Not her own sinews . To end a tale of length ,
+Troy in our weakness lives , not in her strength .
+
+Most wisely hath Ulysses here discover'd
+The fever whereof all our power is sick .
+
+The nature of the sickness found , Ulysses ,
+What is the remedy ?
+
+The great Achilles , whom opinion crowns
+The sinew and the forehand of our host ,
+Having his ear full of his airy fame ,
+Grows dainty of his worth , and in his tent
+Lies mocking our designs . With him Patroclus
+Upon a lazy bed the livelong day
+Breaks scurril jests ,
+And with ridiculous and awkward action
+Which , slanderer , he imitation calls
+He pageants us . Sometime , great Agamemnon ,
+Thy topless deputation he puts on
+And , like a strutting player , whose conceit
+Lies in his hamstring , and doth think it rich
+To hear the wooden dialogue and sound
+'Twixt his stretch'd footing and the scaffoldage ,
+Such to-be-pitied and o'er-wrested seeming
+He acts thy greatness in :and when he speaks ,
+'Tis like a chime a mending ; with terms unsquar'd ,
+Which , from the tongue of roaring Typhon dropp'd ,
+Would seem hyperboles . At this fusty stuff
+The large Achilles , on his press'd bed lolling ,
+From his deep chest laughs out a loud applause ;
+Cries , 'Excellent ! 'tis Agamemnon just .
+Now play me Nestor ; hem , and stroke thy beard ,
+As he being drest to some oration .'
+That's done ;as near as the extremest ends
+Of parallels , like as Vulcan and his wife :
+Yet good Achilles still cries , 'Excellent !
+'Tis Nestor right . Now play him me , Patroclus ,
+Arming to answer in a night alarm .'
+And then , forsooth , the faint defects of age
+Must be the scene of mirth ; to cough and spit ,
+And with a palsy-fumbling on his gorget ,
+Shake in and out the rivet : and at this sport
+Sir Valour dies ; cries , 'O ! enough , Patroclus ;
+Or give me ribs of steel ; I shall split all
+In pleasure of my spleen .' And in this fashion ,
+All our abilities , gifts , natures , shapes ,
+Severals and generals of grace exact ,
+Achievements , plots , orders , preventions ,
+Excitements to the field , or speech for truce ,
+Success or loss , what is or is not , serves
+As stuff for these two to make paradoxes .
+
+And in the imitation of these twain
+Whom , as Ulysses says , opinion crowns
+With an imperial voice many are infect .
+Ajax is grown self-will'd , and bears his head
+In such a rein , in full as proud a place
+As broad Achilles ; keeps his tent like him ;
+Makes factious feasts ; rails on our state of war ,
+Bold as an oracle , and sets Thersites
+A slave whose gall coins slanders like a mint
+To match us in comparison with dirt ;
+To weaken and discredit our exposure ,
+How rank soever rounded in with danger .
+
+They tax our policy , and call it cowardice ;
+Count wisdom as no member of the war ;
+Forestall prescience , and esteem no act
+But that of hand : the still and mental parts ,
+That do contrive how many hands shall strike ,
+When fitness calls them on , and know by measure
+Of their observant toil the enemies' weight ,
+Why , this hath not a finger's dignity :
+They call this bed-work , mappery , closet-war ;
+So that the ram that batters down the wall ,
+For the great swing and rudeness of his poise ,
+They place before his hand that made the engine ,
+Or those that with the fineness of their souls
+By reason guides his execution .
+
+Let this be granted , and Achilles' horse
+Makes many Thetis' sons .
+
+
+What trumpet ? look , Menelaus .
+
+From Troy .
+
+
+What would you 'fore our tent ?
+
+Is this great Agamemnon's tent , I pray you ?
+
+Even this .
+
+May one , that is a herald and a prince ,
+Do a fair message to his kingly ears ?
+
+With surety stronger than Achilles' arm
+'Fore all the Greekish heads , which with one voice
+Call Agamemnon head and general .
+
+Fair leave and large security . How may
+A stranger to those most imperial looks
+Know them from eyes of other mortals ?
+
+How !
+
+Ay ;
+I ask , that I might waken reverence ,
+And bid the cheek be ready with a blush
+Modest as morning when she coldly eyes
+The youthful Ph bus :
+Which is that god in office , guiding men ?
+Which is the high and mighty Agamemnon ?
+
+This Trojan scorns us ; or the men of Troy
+Are ceremonious courtiers .
+
+Courtiers as free , as debonair , unarm'd ,
+As bending angels ; that's their fame in peace :
+But when they would seem soldiers , they have galls ,
+Good arms , strong joints , true swords ; and , Jove's accord ,
+Nothing so full of heart . But peace , neas !
+Peace , Trojan ! lay thy finger on thy lips !
+The worthiness of praise distains his worth ,
+If that the prais'd himself bring the praise forth ;
+But what the repining enemy commends ,
+That breath fame blows ; that praise , sole pure , transcends .
+
+Sir , you of Troy , call you yourself neas ?
+
+Ay , Greek , that is my name .
+
+What's your affair , I pray you ?
+
+Sir , pardon ; 'tis for Agamemnon's ears .
+
+He hears nought privately that comes from Troy .
+
+Nor I from Troy come not to whisper him :
+I bring a trumpet to awake his ear ,
+To set his sense on the attentive bent ,
+And then to speak .
+
+Speak frankly as the wind :
+It is not Agamemnon's sleeping hour ;
+That thou shalt know , Trojan , he is awake ,
+He tells thee so himself .
+
+Trumpet , blow aloud ,
+Send thy brass voice through all these lazy tents ;
+And every Greek of mettle , let him know ,
+What Troy means fairly shall be spoke aloud .
+
+We have , great Agamemnon , here in Troy .
+A prince called Hector ,Priam is his father ,
+Who in this dull and long-continu'd truce
+Is rusty grown : he bade me take a trumpet ,
+And to this purpose speak : kings , princes , lords !
+If there be one among the fair'st of Greece
+That holds his honour higher than his ease ,
+That seeks his praise more than he fears his peril ,
+That knows his valour , and knows not his fear ,
+That loves his mistress more than in confession ,
+With truant vows to her own lips he loves ,
+And dare avow her beauty and her worth
+In other arms than hers ,to him this challenge .
+Hector , in view of Trojans and of Greeks ,
+Shall make it good , or do his best to do it ,
+He hath a lady wiser , fairer , truer ,
+Than ever Greek did compass in his arms ;
+And will to-morrow with his trumpet call ,
+Mid-way between your tents and walls of Troy ,
+To rouse a Grecian that is true in love :
+If any come , Hector shall honour him ;
+If none , he'll say in Troy when he retires ,
+The Grecian dames are sunburnt , and not worth
+The splinter of a lance . Even so much .
+
+This shall be told our lovers , Lord neas ;
+If none of them have soul in such a kind ,
+We left them all at home : but we are soldiers ;
+And may that soldier a mere recreant prove ,
+That means not , hath not , or is not in love !
+If then one is , or hath , or means to be ,
+That one meets Hector ; if none else , I am he .
+
+Tell him of Nestor , one that was a man
+When Hector's grandsire suck'd : he is old now ;
+But if there be not in our Grecian host
+One noble man that hath one spark of fire
+To answer for his love , tell him from me ,
+I'll hide my silver beard in a gold beaver ,
+And in my vantbrace put this wither'd brawn ;
+And , meeting him , will tell him that my lady
+Was fairer than his grandam , and as chaste
+As may be in the world : his youth in flood ,
+I'll prove this truth with my three drops of blood .
+
+Now heavens forbid such scarcity of youth !
+
+Amen .
+
+Fair Lord neas , let me touch your hand ;
+To our pavilion shall I lead you first .
+Achilles shall have word of this intent ;
+So shall each lord of Greece , from tent to tent :
+Yourself shall feast with us before you go ,
+And find the welcome of a noble foe .
+
+
+Nestor !
+
+What says Ulysses ?
+
+I have a young conception in my brain ;
+Be you my time to bring it to some shape .
+
+What is't ?
+
+This 'tis :
+Blunt wedges rive hard knots : the seeded pride
+That hath to this maturity blown up
+In rank Achilles , must or now be cropp'd ,
+Or , shedding , breed a nursery of like evil ,
+To overbulk us all .
+
+Well , and how ?
+
+This challenge that the gallant Hector sends ,
+However it is spread in general name ,
+Relates in purpose only to Achilles .
+
+The purpose is perspicuous even as substance
+Whose grossness little characters sum up :
+And , in the publication , make no strain ,
+But that Achilles , were his brain as barren
+As banks of Libya ,though , Apollo knows ,
+'Tis dry enough ,will with great speed of judgment ,
+Ay , with celerity , find Hector's purpose
+Pointing on him .
+
+And wake him to the answer , think you ?
+
+Yes , 'tis most meet : whom may you else oppose ,
+That can from Hector bring those honours off ,
+If not Achilles ? Though't be a sportful combat ,
+Yet in the trial much opinion dwells ;
+For here the Trojans taste our dear'st repute
+With their fin'st palate : and trust to me , Ulysses ,
+Our imputation shall be oddly pois'd
+In this wild action ; for the success ,
+Although particular , shall give a scantling
+Of good or bad unto the general ;
+And in such indexes , although small pricks
+To their subsequent volumes , there is seen
+The baby figure of the giant mass
+Of things to come at large . It is suppos'd
+He that meets Hector issues from our choice ;
+And choice , being mutual act of all our souls ,
+Makes merit her election , and doth boil ,
+As 'twere from forth us all , a man distill'd
+Out of our virtues ; who miscarrying ,
+What heart receives from bence the conquering part ,
+To steel a strong opinion to themselves ?
+Which entertain'd , limbs are his instruments ,
+In no less working than are swords and bows
+Directive by the limbs .
+
+Give pardon to my speech :
+Therefore 'tis meet Achilles meet not Hector .
+Let us like merchants show our foulest wares ,
+And think perchance they'll sell ; if not ,
+The lustre of the better yet to show
+Shall show the better . Do not consent
+That ever Hector and Achilles meet ;
+For both our honour and our shame in this
+Are dogg'd with two strange followers .
+
+I see them not with my old eyes : what are they ?
+
+What glory our Achilles shares from Hector ,
+Were he not proud , we all should share with him :
+But he already is too insolent ;
+And we were better parch in Afric sun
+Than in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes ,
+Should he 'scape Hector fair : if he were foil'd ,
+Why then we did our main opinion crush
+In taint of our best man . No ; make a lottery ;
+And by device let blockish Ajax draw
+The sort to fight with Hector : among ourselves
+Give him allowance as the worthier man ,
+For that will physic the great Myrmidon
+Who broils in loud applause ; and make him fall
+His crest that prouder than blue Iris bends .
+If the dull brainless Ajax come safe off ,
+We'll dress him up in voices : if he fail ,
+Yet go we under our opinion still
+That we have better men . But , hit or miss ,
+Our project's life this shape of sense assumes :
+Ajax employ'd plucks down Achilles' plumes .
+
+Ulysses ,
+Now I begin to relish thy advice ;
+And I will give a taste of it forthwith
+To Agamemnon : go we to him straight .
+Two curs shall tame each other : pride alone
+Must tarre the mastiffs on , as 'twere their bone .
+
+
+Thersites !
+
+Agamemnon , how if he had boils ? full , all over , generally ?
+
+Thersites !
+
+And those boils did run ? Say so , did not the general run then ? were not that a botchy core ?
+
+Dog !
+
+Then would come some matter from him : I see none now .
+
+Thou bitch-wolf's son , canst thou not hear ?
+Feel , then .
+
+
+The plague of Greece upon thee , thou mongrel beef-witted lord !
+
+Speak then , thou vinewedst leaven , speak : I will beat thee into handsomeness .
+
+I shall sooner rail thee into wit and holiness : but I think thy horse will sooner con an oration than thou learn a prayer without book . Thou canst strike , canst thou ? a red murrain o' thy jade's tricks !
+
+Toadstool , learn me the proclamation .
+
+Dost thou think I have no sense , thou strikest me thus ?
+
+The proclamation !
+
+Thou art proclaimed a fool , I think .
+
+Do not , porpentine , do not : my fingers itch .
+
+I would thou didst itch from head to foot , and I had the scratching of thee ; I would make thee the loathsomest scab of Greece . When thou art forth in the incursions , thou strikest as slow as another .
+
+I say , the proclamation !
+
+Thou grumblest and railest every hour on Achilles , and thou art as full of envy at his greatness as Cerberus is at Proserpina's beauty , ay that thou barkest at him .
+
+Mistress Thersites !
+
+Thou shouldst strike him .
+
+Cobloaf !
+
+He would pun thee into shivers with his fist , as a sailor breaks a biscuit .
+
+You whoreson cur .
+
+
+Do , do .
+
+Thou stool for a witch !
+
+Ay , do , do ; thou sodden-witted lord ! thou hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows ; an assinego may tutor thee : thou scurvy-valiant ass ! thou art here but to thrash Trojans ; and thou art bought and sold among those of any wit , like a barbarian slave . If thou use to beat me , I will begin at thy heel , and tell what thou art by inches , thou thing of no bowels , thou !
+
+You dog !
+
+You scurvy lord !
+
+You cur !
+
+
+Mars his idiot ! do , rudeness ; do , camel ; do , do .
+
+
+Why , how now , Ajax ! wherefore do you this ?
+How now , Thersites ! what's the matter , man ?
+
+You see him there , do you ?
+
+Ay ; what's the matter ?
+
+Nay , look upon him .
+
+So I do : what's the matter ?
+
+Nay , but regard him well .
+
+'Well !' why , so I do .
+
+But yet you look not well upon him ; for , whosoever you take him to be , he is Ajax .
+
+I know that , fool .
+
+Ay , but that fool knows not himself .
+
+Therefore I beat thee .
+
+Lo , lo , lo , lo , what modicums of wit he utters ! his evasions have ears thus long . I have bobbed his brain more than he has beat my bones : I will buy nine sparrows for a penny , and his pia mater is not worth the ninth part of a sparrow . This lord , Achilles , Ajax , who wears his wit in his belly , and his guts in his head , I'll tell you what I say of him .
+
+What ?
+
+I say , this Ajax ,
+
+
+Nay , good Ajax .
+
+Has not so much wit
+
+Nay , I must hold you .
+
+As will stop the eye of Helen's needle , for whom he comes to fight .
+
+Peace , fool !
+
+I would have peace and quietness , but the fool will not : he there ; that he ; look you there .
+
+O thou damned cur ! I shall
+
+Will you set your wit to a fool's ?
+
+No , I warrant you ; for a fool's will shame it .
+
+Good words , Thersites .
+
+What's the quarrel ?
+
+I bade the vile owl go learn me the tenour of the proclamation , and he rails upon me .
+
+I serve thee not .
+
+Well , go to , go to .
+
+I serve here voluntary .
+
+Your last service was sufferance , 'twas not voluntary ; no man is beaten voluntary : Ajax was here the voluntary , and you as under an impress .
+
+Even so ; a great deal of your wit too lies in your sinews , or else there be liars . Hector shall have a great catch if he knock out either of your brains : a' were as good crack a fusty nut with no kernel .
+
+What , with me too , Thersites ?
+
+There's Ulysses and old Nestor , whose wit was mouldy ere your grandsires had nails on their toes , yoke you like draught-oxen , and make you plough up the wars .
+
+What , what ?
+
+Yes , good sooth : to , Achilles ! to , Ajax ! to !
+
+I shall cut out your tongue .
+
+'Tis no matter ; I shall speak as much as thou afterwards .
+
+No more words , Thersites ; peace !
+
+I will hold my peace when Achilles' brach bids me , shall I ?
+
+There's for you , Patroclus .
+
+I will see you hanged , like clotpoles , ere I come any more to your tents : I will keep where there is wit stirring and leave the faction of fools .
+
+
+A good riddance .
+
+Marry , this , sir , is proclaim'd through all our host :
+That Hector , by the fifth hour of the sun ,
+Will , with a trumpet , 'twixt our tents and Troy
+To morrow morning call some knight to arms
+That hath a stomach ; and such a one that dare
+Maintain I know not what : 'tis trash . Farewell .
+
+Farewell . Who shall answer him ?
+
+I know not : it is put to lottery ; otherwise ,
+He knew his man .
+
+O , meaning you . I will go learn more of it .
+
+
+After so many hours , lives , speeches spent ,
+Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks :
+'Deliver Helen , and all damage else ,
+As honour , loss of time , travail , expense ,
+Wounds , friends , and what else dear that is consum'd
+In hot digestion of this cormorant war ,
+Shall be struck off .' Hector , what say you to't ?
+
+Though no man lesser fears the Greeks than I ,
+As far as toucheth my particular ,
+Yet , dread Priam ,
+There is no lady of more softer bowels ,
+More spongy to suck in the sense of fear ,
+More ready to cry out 'Who knows what follows ?'
+Than Hector is . The wound of peace is surety ,
+Surety secure ; but modest doubt is call'd
+The beacon of the wise , the tent that searches
+To the bottom of the worst . Let Helen go :
+Since the first sword was drawn about this question ,
+Every tithe soul , 'mongst many thousand dismes ,
+Hath been as dear as Helen ; I mean , of ours :
+If we have lost so many tenths of ours ,
+To guard a thing not ours nor worth to us ,
+Had it our name , the value of one ten ,
+What merit's in that reason which denies
+The yielding of her up ?
+
+Fie , fie ! my brother ,
+Weigh you the worth and honour of a king
+So great as our dread father in a scale
+Of common ounces ? will you with counters sum
+The past proportion of his infinite ?
+And buckle in a waist most fathomless
+With spans and inches so diminutive
+As fears and reasons ? fie , for godly shame !
+
+No marvel , though you bite so sharp at reasons ,
+You are so empty of them . Should not our father
+Bear the great sway of his affairs with reasons ,
+Because your speech hath none that tells him so ?
+
+You are for dreams and slumbers , brother priest ;
+You fur your gloves with reason . Here are your reasons :
+You know an enemy intends you harm ;
+You know a sword employ'd is perilous ,
+And reason flies the object of all harm :
+Who marvels then , when Helenus beholds
+A Grecian and his sword , if he do set
+The very wings of reason to his heels ,
+And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove ,
+Or like a star disorb'd ? Nay , if we talk of reason ,
+Let's shut our gates and sleep : manhood and honour
+Should have hare-hearts , would they but fat their thoughts
+With this cramm'd reason : reason and respect
+Make livers pale , and lustihood deject .
+
+Brother , she is not worth what she doth cost
+The holding .
+
+What is aught but as 'tis valu'd ?
+
+But value dwells not in particular will ;
+It holds his estimate and dignity
+As well wherein 'tis precious of itself
+As in the prizer . 'Tis mad idolatry
+To make the service greater than the god ;
+And the will dotes that is inclinable
+To what infectiously itself affects ,
+Without some image of the affected merit .
+
+I take to-day a wife , and my election
+Is led on in the conduct of my will ;
+My will enkindled by mine eyes and ears ,
+Two traded pilots 'twixt the dangerous shores
+Of will and judgment . How may I avoid ,
+Although my will distaste what it elected ,
+The wife I chose ? there can be no evasion
+To blench from this and to stand firm by honour .
+We turn not back the silks upon the merchant
+When we have soil'd them , nor the remainder viands
+We do not throw in unrespective sink
+Because we now are full . It was thought meet
+Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks :
+Your breath of full consent bellied his sails ;
+The seas and winds old wranglers took a truce
+And did him service : he touch'd the ports desir'd ,
+And for an old aunt whom the Greeks held captive
+He brought a Grecian queen , whose youth and freshness
+Wrinkles Apollo's , and makes stale the morning .
+Why keep we her ? the Grecians keep our aunt :
+Is she worth keeping ? why , she is a pearl ,
+Whose price hath launch'd above a thousand ships ,
+And turn'd crown'd kings to merchants .
+If you'll avouch 'twas wisdom Paris went ,
+As you must needs , for you all cried 'Go , go ,'
+If you'll confess he brought home noble prize ,
+As you must needs , for you all clapp'd your hands ,
+And cry'd 'Inestimable !' why do you now
+The issue of your proper wisdoms rate ,
+And do a deed that Fortune never did ,
+Beggar the estimation which you priz'd
+Richer than sea and land ? O ! theft most base ,
+That we have stol'n what we do fear to keep !
+But thieves unworthy of a thing so stol'n ,
+That in their country did them that disgrace
+We fear to warrant in our native place .
+
+Cry , Trojans , cry !
+
+What noise ? what shriek ?
+
+'Tis our mad sister , I do know her voice
+
+Cry , Trojans !
+
+It is Cassandra .
+
+
+Cry , Trojans , cry ! lend me ten thousand eyes ,
+And I will fill them with prophetic tears .
+
+Peace , sister , peace !
+
+Virgins and boys , mid-age and wrinkled eld ,
+Soft infancy , that nothing canst but cry ,
+Add to my clamours ! let us pay betimes
+A moiety of that mass of moan to come .
+Cry , Trojans , cry ! practise your eyes with tears !
+Troy must not be , nor goodly Ilion stand ;
+Our firebrand brother , Paris , burns us all .
+Cry , Trojans , cry ! a Helen and a woe !
+Cry , cry ! Troy burns , or else let Helen go .
+
+
+Now , youthful Troilus , do not these high strains
+Of divination in our sister work
+Some touches of remorse ? or is your blood
+So madly hot that no discourse of reason ,
+Nor fear of bad success in a bad cause ,
+Can qualify the same ?
+
+Why , brother Hector ,
+We may not think the justness of each act
+Such and no other than event doth form it ,
+Nor once deject the courage of our minds ,
+Because Cassandra's mad : her brain-sick raptures
+Cannot distaste the goodness of a quarrel
+Which hath our several honours all engag'd
+To make it gracious . For my private part ,
+I am no more touch'd than all Priam's sons ;
+And Jove forbid there should be done amongst us
+Such things as might offend the weakest spleen
+To fight for and maintain .
+
+Else might the world convince of levity
+As well my undertakings as your counsels ;
+But I attest the gods , your full consent
+Gave wings to my propension and cut off
+All fears attending on so dire a project :
+For what , alas ! can these my single arms ?
+What propugnation is in one man's valour ,
+To stand the push and enmity of those
+This quarrel would excite ? Yet , I protest ,
+Were I alone to pass the difficulties ,
+And had as ample power as I have will ,
+Paris should ne'er retract what he hath done ,
+Nor faint in the pursuit .
+
+Paris , you speak
+Like one besotted on your sweet delights :
+You have the honey still , but these the gall ;
+So to be valiant is no praise at all .
+
+Sir , I propose not merely to myself
+The pleasure such a beauty brings with it ;
+But I would have the soil of her fair rape
+Wip'd off , in honourable keeping her .
+What treason were it to the ransack'd queen ,
+Disgrace to your great worths , and shame to me ,
+Now to deliver her possession up ,
+On terms of base compulsion ! Can it be
+That so degenerate a strain as this
+Should once set footing in your generous bosoms ?
+There's not the meanest spirit on our party
+Without a heart to dare or sword to draw
+When Helen is defended , nor none so noble
+Whose life were ill bestow'd or death unfam'd
+Where Helen is the subject : then , I say ,
+Well may we fight for her , whom , we know well ,
+The world's large spaces cannot parallel .
+
+Paris and Troilus , you have both said well ;
+And on the cause and question now in hand
+Have gloz'd , but superficially ; not much
+Unlike young men , whom Aristotle thought
+Unfit to hear moral philosophy .
+The reasons you allege do more conduce
+To the hot passion of distemper'd blood
+Than to make up a free determination
+'Twixt right and wrong ; for pleasure and revenge
+Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice
+Of any true decision . Nature craves
+All dues be render'd to their owners : now ,
+What nearer debt in all humanity
+Than wife is to the husband ? if this law
+Of nature be corrupted through affection ,
+And that great minds , of partial indulgence
+To their benumbed wills , resist the saine ;
+There is a law in each well-order'd nation
+To curb those raging appetites that are
+Most disobedient and refractory .
+If Helen then be wife to Sparta's king ,
+As it is known she is , these moral laws
+Of nature , and of nations , speak aloud
+To have her back return'd : thus to persist
+In doing wrong extenuates not wrong ,
+But makes it much more heavy . Hector's opinion
+Is this , in way of truth ; yet , ne'ertheless ,
+My spritely brethren , I propend to you
+In resolution to keep Helen still ;
+For 'tis a cause that hath no mean dependance
+Upon our joint and several dignities .
+
+Why , there you touch'd the life of our design :
+Were it not glory that we more affected
+Than the performance of our heaving spleens ,
+I would not wish a drop of Trojan blood
+Spent more in her defence . But , worthy Hector ,
+She is a theme of honour and renown ,
+A spur to valiant and magnanimous deeds ,
+Whose present courage may beat down our foes ,
+And fame in time to come canonize us ;
+For , I presume , brave Hector would not lose
+So rich advantage of a promis'd glory
+As smiles upon the forehead of this action
+For the wide world's revenue .
+
+I am yours ,
+You valiant offspring of great Priamus .
+I have a roisting challenge sent amongst
+The dull and factious nobles of the Greeks
+Will strike amazement to their drowsy spirits .
+I was advertis'd their great general slept
+Whilst emulation in the army crept :
+This , I presume , will wake him .
+
+
+How now , Thersites ! what , lost in the labyrinth of thy fury ! Shall the elephant Ajax carry it thus ? he beats me , and I rail at him : O worthy satisfaction ! Would it were otherwise ; that I could beat him , whilst he railed at me . 'Sfoot , I'll learn to conjure and raise devils , but I'll see some issue of my spiteful execrations . Then there's Achilles , a rare enginer . If Troy be not taken till these two undermine it , the walls will stand till they fall of themselves . O ! thou great thunder-darter of Olympus , forget that thou art Jove the king of gods , and , Mercury , lose all the serpentine craft of thy caduceus , if ye take not that little little less than little wit from them that they have ; which short-armed ignorance itself knows is so abundant scarce it will not in circumvention deliver a fly from a spider , without drawing their massy irons and cutting the web . After this , the vengeance on the whole camp ! or , rather , the Neapolitan bone-ache ! for that , methinks , is the curse dependant on those that war for a placket . I have said my prayers , and devil Envy say Amen . What , ho ! my Lord Achilles !
+
+
+Who's there ? Thersites ! Good Thersites , come in and rail .
+
+If I could have remembered a gilt counterfeit , thou wouldst not have slipped out of my contemplation : but it is no matter ; thyself upon thyself ! The common curse of mankind , folly and ignorance , be thine in great revenue ! heaven bless thee from a tutor , and discipline come not near thee ! Let thy blood be thy direction till thy death ! then , if she that lays thee out says thou art a fair corpse , I'll be sworn and sworn upon't she never shrouded any but lazars . Amen . Where's Achilles ?
+
+What ! art thou devout ? wast thou in prayer ?
+
+Ay ; the heavens hear me !
+
+
+Who's there ?
+
+Thersites , my lord .
+
+Where , where ? Art thou come ? Why , my cheese , my digestion , why hast thou not served thyself in to my table so many meals ? Come , what's Agamemnon ?
+
+Thy commander , Achilles . Then tell me , Patroclus , what's Achilles ?
+
+Thy lord , Thersites . Then tell me , I pray thee , what's thyself ?
+
+Thy knower , Patroclus . Then tell me , Patroclus , what art thou ?
+
+Thou mayst tell that knowest .
+
+O ! tell , tell .
+
+I'll decline the whole question . Agamemnon commands Achilles ; Achilles is my lord ; I am Patroclus' knower ; and Patroclus is a fool .
+
+You rascal !
+
+Peace , fool ! I have not done .
+
+He is a privileged man . Proceed , Thersites .
+
+Agamemnon is a fool ; Achilles is a fool ; Thersites is a fool ; and , as aforesaid , Patroclus is a fool .
+
+Derive this ; come .
+
+Agamemnon is a fool to offer to command Achilles ; Achilles is a fool to be commanded of Agamemnon ; Thersites is a fool to serve such a fool ; and Patroclus is a fool positive .
+
+Why am I a fool ?
+
+Make that demand to the Creator . It suffices me thou art . Look you , who comes here ?
+
+Patroclus , I'll speak with nobody . Come in with me , Thersites .
+
+
+Here is such patchery , such juggling , and such knavery ! all the argument is a cuckold and a whore ; a good quarrel to draw emulous factions and bleed to death upon . Now , the dry serpigo on the subject ! and war and lechery confound all !
+
+Where is Achilles ?
+
+Within his tent ; but ill-dispos'd , my lord .
+
+Let it be known to him that we are here .
+He shent our messengers ; and we lay by
+Our appertainments , visiting of him :
+Let him be told so ; lest perchance he think
+We dare not move the question of our place ,
+Or know not what we are .
+
+I shall say so to him .
+
+
+We saw him at the opening of his tent :
+He is not sick .
+
+Yes , lion-sick , sick of proud heart : you may call it melancholy if you will favour the man ; but , by my head , 'tis pride : but why , why ? let him show us a cause . A word , my lord .
+
+
+What moves Ajax thus to bay at him ?
+
+Achilles hath inveigled his fool from him .
+
+Who , Thersites ?
+
+He .
+
+Then will Ajax lack matter , if he have lost his argument .
+
+No ; you see , he is his argument that has his argument , Achilles .
+
+All the better ; their fraction is more our wish than their faction : but it was a strong composure a fool could disunite .
+
+The amity that wisdom knits not folly may easily untie . Here comes Patroclus .
+
+
+No Achilles with him .
+
+The elephant hath joints , but none for courtesy : his legs are legs for necessity , not for flexure .
+
+Achilles bids me say , he is much sorry
+If any thing more than your sport and pleasure
+Did move your greatness and this noble state
+To call upon him ; he hopes it is no other
+But , for your health and your digestion sake ,
+An after-dinner's breath .
+
+Hear you , Patroclus :
+We are too well acquainted with these answers :
+But his evasion , wing'd thus swift with scorn ,
+Cannot outfly our apprehensions .
+Much attribute he hath , and much the reason
+Why we ascribe it to him ; yet all his virtues ,
+Not virtuously on his own part beheld ,
+Do in our eyes begin to lose their gloss ,
+Yea , like fair fruit in an unwholesome dish ,
+Are like to rot untasted . Go and tell him ,
+We come to speak with him ; and you shall not sin
+If you do say we think him over-proud
+And under-honest , in self-assumption greater
+Than in the note of judgment ; and worthier than himself
+Here tend the savage strangeness he puts on ,
+Disguise the holy strength of their command ,
+And underwrite in an observing kind
+His humorous predominance ; yea , watch
+His pettish lunes , his ebbs , his flows , as if
+The passage and whole carriage of this action
+Rode on his tide . Go tell him this , and add ,
+That if he overhold his price so much ,
+We'll none of him ; but let him , like an engine
+Not portable , lie under this report :
+'Bring action hither , this cannot go to war :'
+A stirring dwarf we do allowance give
+Before a sleeping giant : tell him so .
+
+I shall ; and bring his answer presently .
+
+
+In second voice we'll not be satisfied ;
+We come to speak with him . Ulysses , enter you .
+
+
+What is he more than another ?
+
+No more than what he thinks he is .
+
+Is he so much ? Do you not think he thinks himself a better man than I am ?
+
+No question .
+
+Will you subscribe his thought , and say he is ?
+
+No , noble Ajax ; you are as strong , as valiant , as wise , no less noble , much more gentle , and altogether more tractable .
+
+Why should a man be proud ? How doth pride grow ? I know not what pride is .
+
+Your mind is the clearer , Ajax , and your virtues the fairer . He that is proud eats up himself : pride is his own glass , his own trumpet , his own chronicle ; and whatever praises itself but in the deed , devours the deed in the praise .
+
+I do hate a proud man , as I hate the engendering of toads .
+
+Yet he loves himself : is't not strange ?
+
+
+Achilles will not to the field to-morrow .
+
+What's his excuse ?
+
+He doth rely on none ,
+But carries on the stream of his dispose
+Without observance or respect of any ,
+In will peculiar and in self-admission .
+
+Why will he not upon our fair request
+Untent his person and share the air with us ?
+
+Things small as nothing , for request's sake only ,
+He makes important : possess'd he is with greatness ,
+And speaks not to himself but with a pride
+That quarrels at self-breath : imagin'd worth
+Holds in his blood such swoln and hot discourse ,
+That 'twixt his mental and his active parts
+Kingdom'd Achilles in commotion rages
+And batters down himself : what should I say ?
+He is so plaguy proud , that the death-tokens of it
+Cry 'No recovery .'
+
+Let Ajax go to him .
+Dear lord , go you and meet him in his tent :
+'Tis said he holds you well , and will be led
+At your request a little from himself .
+
+O Agamemnon ! let it not be so .
+We'll consecrate the steps that Ajax makes
+When they go from Achilles : shall the proud lord
+That bastes his arrogance with his own seam ,
+And never suffers matter of the world
+Enter his thoughts , save such as do revolve
+And ruminate himself , shall he be worshipp'd
+Of that we hold an idol more than he ?
+No , this thrice-worthy and right valiant lord
+Must not so stale his palm , nobly acquir'd ;
+Nor , by my will , assubjugate his merit ,
+As amply titled as Achilles is ,
+By going to Achilles :
+That were to enlard his fat-already pride ,
+And add more coals to Cancer when he burns
+With entertaining great Hyperion .
+This lord go to him ! Jupiter forbid ,
+And say in thunder , 'Achilles go to him .'
+
+O ! this is well ; he rubs the vein of him .
+
+And how his silence drinks up this applause !
+
+If I go to him , with my armed fist
+I'll pash him o'er the face .
+
+O , no ! you shall not go .
+
+An a' be proud with me , I'll pheeze his pride .
+Let me go to him .
+
+Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrel .
+
+A paltry , insolent fellow !
+
+How he describes himself !
+
+Can he not be sociable ?
+
+The raven chides blackness .
+
+I'll let his humours blood .
+
+He will be the physician that should be the patient .
+
+An all men were o' my mind ,
+
+Wit would be out of fashion .
+
+A' should not bear it so , a' should eat swords first : shall pride carry it ?
+
+An't would , you'd carry half .
+
+A' would have ten shares .
+
+I will knead him ; I will make him supple .
+
+He's not yet through warm : force him with praises : pour in , pour in ; his ambition is dry .
+
+My lord , you feed too much on this dislike .
+
+Our noble general , do not do so .
+
+You must prepare to fight without Achilles .
+
+Why , 'tis this naming of him does him harm .
+Here is a man but 'tis before his face ;
+I will be silent .
+
+Wherefore should you so ?
+He is not emulous , as Achilles is .
+
+Know the whole world , he is as valiant .
+
+A whoreson dog , that shall palter thus with us ! Would he were a Trojan !
+
+What a vice were it in Ajax now ,
+
+If he were proud ,
+
+Or covetous of praise ,
+
+Ay , or surly borne ,
+
+Or strange , or self-affected !
+
+Thank the heavens , lord , thou art of sweet composure ;
+Praise him that got thee , her that gave thee suck :
+Fam'd be thy tutor , and thy parts of nature
+Thrice-fam'd , beyond all erudition :
+But he that disciplin'd thy arms to fight ,
+Let Mars divide eternity in twain ,
+And give him half : and , for thy vigour ,
+Bull-bearing Milo his addition yield
+To sinewy Ajax . I will not praise thy wisdom ,
+Which , like a bourn , a pale , a shore , confines
+Thy spacious and dilated parts : here's Nestor
+Instructed by the antiquary times ,
+He must , he is , he cannot but be wise ;
+But pardon , father Nestor , were your days
+As green as Ajax , and your brain so temper'd ,
+You should not have the eminence of him ,
+But be as Ajax .
+
+Shall I call you father ?
+
+Ay , my good son .
+
+Be rul'd by him , Lord Ajax .
+
+There is no tarrying here ; the hart Achilles
+Keeps thicket . Please it our great general
+To call together all his state of war ;
+Fresh kings are come to Troy : to-morrow ,
+We must with all our main of power stand fast :
+And here's a lord ,come knights from east to west ,
+And cull their flower , Ajax shall cope the best .
+
+Go we to council . Let Achilles sleep :
+Light boats sail swift , though greater hulks draw deep .
+
+
+Friend ! you ! pray you , a word : do not you follow the young Lord Paris ?
+
+Ay , sir , when he goes before me .
+
+You depend upon him , I mean ?
+
+Sir , I do depend upon the Lord .
+
+You depend upon a noble gentleman ;
+I must needs praise him .
+
+The Lord be praised !
+
+You know me , do you not ?
+
+Faith , sir , superficially .
+
+Friend , know me better . I am the
+Lord Pandarus .
+
+I hope I shall know your honour better .
+
+I do desire it .
+
+You are in the state of grace .
+
+Grace ! not so , friend ; honour and lordship are my titles .
+
+What music is this ?
+
+I do but partly know , sir : it is music in parts .
+
+Know you the musicians ?
+
+Wholly , sir .
+
+Who play they to ?
+
+To the hearers , sir .
+
+At whose pleasure , friend ?
+
+At mine , sir , and theirs that love music .
+
+Command , I mean , friend .
+
+Who shall I command , sir ?
+
+Friend , we understand not one another :
+I am too courtly , and thou art too cunning . At whose request do these men play ?
+
+That's to't , indeed , sir . Marry , sir , at the request of Paris my lord , who is there in person ; with him the mortal Venus , the heartblood of beauty , love's invisible soul .
+
+Who , my cousin Cressida ?
+
+No , sir , Helen : could you not find out that by her attributes ?
+
+It should seem , fellow , that thou hast not seen the Lady Cressida . I come to speak with Paris from the Prince Troilus : I will make a complimental assault upon him , for my business seethes .
+
+Sodden business : there's a stewed phrase , indeed .
+
+
+Fair be to you , my lord , and to all this fair company ! fair desires , in all fair measures , fairly guide them ! especially to you , fair queen ! fair thoughts be your fair pillow !
+
+Dear lord , you are full of fair words .
+
+You speak your fair pleasure , sweet queen . Fair prince , here is good broken music .
+
+You have broke it , cousin ; and , by my life , you shall make it whole again : you shall piece it out with a piece of your performance . Nell , he is full of harmony .
+
+Truly , lady , no .
+
+O , sir !
+
+Rude , in sooth ; in good sooth , very rude .
+
+Well said , my lord ! Well , you say so in fits .
+
+I have business to my lord , dear queen .
+My lord , will you vouchsafe me a word ?
+
+Nay , this shall not hedge us out : we'll hear you sing , certainly .
+
+Well , sweet queen , you are pleasant with me . But , marry , thus , my lord . My dear lord and most esteemed friend , your brother Troilus
+
+My Lord Pandarus ; honey-sweet lord ,
+
+Go to , sweet queen , go to : commends himself most affectionately to you .
+
+You shall not bob us out of our melody : if you do , our melancholy upon your head !
+
+Sweet queen , sweet queen ! that's a sweet queen , i' faith .
+
+And to make a sweet lady sad is a sour offence .
+
+Nay , that shall not serve your turn ; that shall it not , in truth , la ! Nay , I care not for such words : no , no . And , my lord , he desires you , that if the king call for him at supper , you will make his excuse .
+
+My Lord Pandarus ,
+
+What says my sweet queen , my very sweet queen ?
+
+What exploit's in hand ? where sups he to-night ?
+
+Nay , but my lord ,
+
+What says my sweet queen ! My cousin will fall out with you . You must know where he sups .
+
+I'll lay my life , with my disposer Cressida .
+
+No , no , no such matter ; you are wide . Come , your disposer is sick .
+
+Well , I'll make excuse .
+
+Ay , good my lord . Why should you say Cressida ? no , your poor disposer's sick .
+
+I spy .
+
+You spy ! what do you spy ? Come , give me an instrument . Now , sweet queen .
+
+Why , this is kindly done .
+
+My niece is horribly in love with a thing you have , sweet queen .
+
+She shall have it , my lord , if it be not my Lord Paris .
+
+He ! no , she'll none of him ; they two are twain .
+
+Falling in , after falling out , may make them three .
+
+Come , come , I'll hear no more of this .
+I'll sing you a song now .
+
+Ay , ay , prithee now . By my troth , sweet lord , thou hast a fine forehead .
+
+Ay , you may , you may .
+
+Let thy song be love : this love will undo us all . O Cupid , Cupid , Cupid !
+
+Love ! ay , that it shall , i' faith .
+
+Ay , good now , love , love , nothing but love .
+
+In good troth , it begins so :
+
+
+Love , love , nothing but love , still more !
+For , oh ! love's bow
+Shoots buck and doe :
+The shaft confounds ,
+Not that it wounds ,
+But tickles still the sore .
+These lovers cry O ! O ! they die !
+Yet that which seems the wound to kill ,
+Doth turn O ! O ! to ha ! ha ! he !
+So dying love lives still :
+O ! O ! a while , but ha ! ha ! ha !
+O ! O ! groans out for ha ! ha ! ha !
+
+Heigh-ho !
+
+In love , i' faith , to the very tip of the nose .
+
+He eats nothing but doves , love ; and that breeds hot blood , and hot blood begets hot thoughts , and hot thoughts beget hot deeds , and hot deeds is love .
+
+Is this the generation of love ? hot blood ? hot thoughts , and hot deeds ? Why , they are vipers : is love a generation of vipers ? Sweet lord , who's a-field to-day ?
+
+Hector , Deiphobus , Helenus , Antenor , and all the gallantry of Troy : I would fain have armed to-day , but my Nell would not have it so . How chance my brother Troilus went not ?
+
+He hangs the lip at something : you know all , Lord Pandarus .
+
+Not I , honey-sweet queen . I long to hear how they sped to-day . You'll remember your brother's excuse ?
+
+To a hair .
+
+Farewell , sweet queen .
+
+Commend me to your niece .
+
+I will , sweet queen .
+
+
+They're come from field : let us to Priam's hall
+To greet the warriors . Sweet Helen , I must woo you
+To help unarm our Hector : his stubborn buckles ,
+With these your white enchanting fingers touch'd ,
+Shall more obey than to the edge of steel
+Or force of Greekish sinews ; you shall do more
+Than all the island kings ,disarm great Hector .
+
+'Twill make us proud to be his servant , Paris ;
+Yea , what he shall receive of us in duty
+Gives us more palm in beauty than we have ,
+Yea , overshines ourself .
+
+Sweet , above thought I love thee .
+
+
+How now ! where's thy master ? at my cousin Cressida's ?
+
+No , sir ; he stays for you to conduct him thither .
+
+
+O ! here he comes . How now , how now !
+
+Sirrah , walk off .
+
+
+Have you seen my cousin ?
+
+No , Pandarus : I stalk about her door ,
+Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks
+Staying for waftage . O ! be thou my Charon ,
+And give me swift transportance to those fields
+Where I may wallow in the lily-beds
+Propos'd for the deserver ! O gentle Pandarus !
+From Cupid's shoulder pluck his painted wings ,
+And fly with me to Cressid .
+
+Walk here i' the orchard . I'll bring her straight .
+
+
+I am giddy , expectation whirls me round .
+The imaginary relish is so sweet
+That it enchants my sense . What will it be
+When that the watery palate tastes indeed
+Love's thrice-repured nectar ? death , I fear me ,
+Swounding destruction , or some joy too fine ,
+Too subtle-potent , tun'd too sharp in sweetness
+For the capacity of my ruder powers :
+I fear it much ; and I do fear besides
+That I shall lose distinction in my joys ;
+As doth a battle , when they charge on heaps
+The enemy flying .
+
+
+She's making her ready : she'll come straight : you must be witty now . She does so blush , and fetches her wind so short , as if she were frayed with a sprite : I'll fetch her . It is the prettiest villain : she fetches her breath as short as a new-ta'en sparrow .
+
+
+Even such a passion doth embrace my bosom ;
+My heart beats thicker than a fev'rous pulse ;
+And all my powers do their bestowing lose ,
+Like vassalage at unawares encountering
+The eye of majesty .
+
+
+Come , come , what need you blush ? shame's a baby . Here she is now : swear the oaths now to her that you have sworn to me . What ! are you gone again ? you must be watched ere you be made tame , must you ? Come your ways , come your ways ; an you draw backward , we'll put you i' the fills . Why do you not speak to her ? Come , draw this curtain , and let's see your picture . Alas the day , how loath you are to offend day-light ! an 'twere dark , you'd close sooner . So , so ; rub on , and kiss the mistress . How now ! a kiss in fee-farm ! build there , carpenter ; the air is sweet . Nay , you shall fight your hearts out ere I part you . The falcon as the tercel , for all the ducks i' the river : go to , go to .
+
+You have bereft me of all words , lady .
+
+Words pay no debts , give her deeds ; but she'll bereave you of the deeds too if she call your activity in question . What ! billing again ? Here's 'In witness whereof the parties interchangeably' Come in , come in : I'll go get a fire .
+
+
+Will you walk in , my lord ?
+
+O Cressida ! how often have I wished me thus !
+
+Wished , my lord ! The gods grant ,O my lord !
+
+What should they grant ? what makes this pretty abruption ? What too curious dreg espies my sweet lady in the fountain of our love ?
+
+More dregs than water , if my fears have eyes .
+
+Fears make devils of cherubins ; they never see truly .
+
+Blind fear , that seeing reason leads , finds safer footing than blind reason stumbling without fear : to fear the worst oft cures the worse .
+
+O ! let my lady apprehend no fear : in all Cupid's pageant there is presented no monster .
+
+Nor nothing monstrous neither ?
+
+Nothing but our undertakings ; when we vow to weep seas , live in fire , eat rocks , tame tigers ; thinking it harder for our mistress to devise imposition enough than for us to undergo any difficulty imposed . This is the monstruosity in love , lady , that the will is infinite , and the execution confined ; that the desire is boundless , and the act a slave to limit .
+
+They say all lovers swear more performance than they are able , and yet reserve an ability that they never perform ; vowing more than the perfection of ten and discharging less than the tenth part of one . They that have the voice of lions and the act of hares , are they not monsters ?
+
+Are there such ? such are not we . Praise us as we are tasted , allow us as we prove ; our head shall go bare , till merit crown it . No perfection in reversion shall have a praise in present : we will not name desert before his birth , and , being born , his addition shall be humble . Few words to fair faith : Troilus shall be such to Cressid , as what envy can say worst shall be a mock for his truth ; and what truth can speak truest not truer than Troilus .
+
+Will you walk in , my lord ?
+
+
+What ! blushing still ? have you not done talking yet ?
+
+Well , uncle , what folly I commit , I dedicate to you .
+
+I thank you for that : if my lord get a boy of you , you'll give him me . Be true to my lord ; if he flinch , chide me for it .
+
+You know now your hostages ; your uncle's word , and my firm faith .
+
+Nay , I'll give my word for her too . Our kindred , though they be long ere they are wooed , they are constant being won : they are burrs , I can tell you ; they'll stick where they are thrown .
+
+Boldness comes to me now , and brings me heart :
+Prince Troilus , I have lov'd you night and day
+For many weary months .
+
+Why was my Cressid then so hard to win ?
+
+Hard to seem won ; but I was won , my lord ,
+With the first glance that ever pardon me
+If I confess much you will play the tyrant .
+I love you now ; but , till now , not so much
+But I might master it : in faith , I lie ;
+My thoughts were like unbridled children , grown
+Too headstrong for their mother . See , we fools !
+Why have I blabb'd ? who shall be true to us
+When we are so unsecret to ourselves ?
+But , though I lov'd you well , I woo'd you not ;
+And yet , good faith , I wish'd myself a man ,
+Or that we women had men's privilege
+Of speaking first . Sweet , bid me hold my tongue ;
+For in this rapture I shall surely speak
+The thing I shall repent . See , see ! your silence ,
+Cunning in dumbness , from my weakness draws
+My very soul of counsel . Stop my mouth .
+
+And shall , albeit sweet music issues thence .
+
+Pretty , i' faith .
+
+My lord , I do beseech you , pardon me ;
+'Twas not my purpose thus to beg a kiss :
+I am asham'd : O heavens ! what have I done ?
+For this time will I take my leave , my lord .
+
+Your leave , sweet Cressid ?
+
+Leave ! an you take leave till to-morrow morning ,
+
+Pray you , content you .
+
+What offends you , lady ?
+
+Sir , mine own company .
+
+You cannot shun yourself .
+
+Let me go and try :
+I have a kind of self resides with you ;
+But an unkind self , that itself will leave ,
+To be another's fool . I would be gone :
+Where is my wit ? I speak I know not what .
+
+Well know they what they speak that speak so wisely .
+
+Perchance , my lord , I show more craft than love ;
+And fell so roundly to a large confession ,
+To angle for your thoughts : but you are wise ,
+Or else you love not , for to be wise , and love ,
+Exceeds man's might ; that dwells with gods above .
+
+O ! that I thought it could be in a woman
+As if it can I will presume in you
+To feed for aye her lamp and flames of love ;
+To keep her constancy in plight and youth ,
+Outliving beauty's outward , with a mind
+That doth renew swifter than blood decays :
+Or that persuasion could but thus convince me ,
+That my integrity and truth to you
+Might be affronted with the match and weight
+Of such a winnow'd purity in love ;
+How were I then uplifted ! but , alas !
+I am as true as truth's simplicity ,
+And simpler than the infancy of truth .
+
+In that I'll war with you .
+
+O virtuous fight !
+When right with right wars who shall be most right .
+True swains in love shall in the world to come
+Approve their truths by Troilus : when their rimes ,
+Full of protest , of oath , and big compare ,
+Want similes , truth tir'd with iteration ,
+As true as steel , as plantage to the moon ,
+As sun to day , as turtle to her mate ,
+As iron to adamant , as earth to the centre ,
+Yet , after all comparisons of truth ,
+As truth's authentic author to be cited ,
+'As true as Troilus' shall crown up the verse
+And sanctify the numbers .
+
+Prophet may you be !
+If I be false , or swerve a hair from truth ,
+When time is old and hath forgot itself ,
+When waterdrops have worn the stones of Troy ,
+And blind oblivion swallow'd cities up ,
+And mighty states characterless are grated
+To dusty nothing , yet let memory ,
+From false to false , among false maids in love
+Upbraid my falsehood ! when they have said 'as false
+As air , as water , wind , or sandy earth ,
+As fox to lamb , as wolf to heifer's calf ,
+Pard to the hind , or stepdame to her son ;'
+Yea , let them say , to stick the heart of falsehood ,
+'As false as Cressid .'
+
+Go to , a bargain made ; seal it , seal it : I'll be the witness . Here I hold your hand , here my cousin's . If ever you prove false one to another , since I have taken such pains to bring you together , let all pitiful goers-between be called to the world's end after my name ; call them all Pandars ; let all constant men be Troiluses , all false women Cressids , and all brokers-between Pandars ! say , Amen .
+
+Amen .
+
+Amen .
+
+Amen . Whereupon I will show you a chamber and a bed ; which bed , because it shall not speak of your pretty encounters , press it to death : away !
+And Cupid grant all tongue-tied maidens here
+Bed , chamber , Pandar to provide this gear !
+
+
+Now , princes , for the service I have done you ,
+The advantage of the time prompts me aloud
+To call for recompense . Appear it to your mind
+That through the sight I bear in things to come ,
+I have abandon'd Troy , left my possession ,
+Incurr'd a traitor's name ; expos'd myself ,
+From certain and possess'd conveniences ,
+To doubtful fortunes ; sequestering from me all
+That time , acquaintance , custom , and condition
+Made tame and most familiar to my nature ;
+And here , to do you service , have become
+As new into the world , strange , unacquainted :
+I do beseech you , as in way of taste ,
+To give me now a little benefit ,
+Out of those many register'd in promise ,
+Which , you say , live to come in my behalf .
+
+What wouldst thou of us , Trojan ? make demand .
+
+You have a Trojan prisoner , call'd Antenor ,
+Yesterday took : Troy holds him very dear .
+Oft have you often have you thanks therefore
+Desir'd my Cressid in right great exchange ,
+Whom Troy hath still denied ; but this Antenor
+I know is such a wrest in their affairs
+That their negociations all must slack ,
+Wanting his manage ; and they will almost
+Give us a prince of blood , a son of Priam ,
+In change of him : let him be sent , great princes ,
+And he shall buy my daughter ; and her presence
+Shall quite strike off all service I have done ,
+In most accepted pain .
+
+Let Diomedes bear him ,
+And bring us Cressid hither : Calchas shall have
+What he requests of us . Good Diomed ,
+Furnish you fairly for this interchange :
+Withal bring word if Hector will to-morrow
+Be answer'd in his challenge : Ajax is ready .
+
+This shall I undertake ; and 'tis a burden
+Which I am proud to bear .
+
+Achilles stands in the entrance of his tent :
+Please it our general to pass strangely by him ,
+As if he were forgot ; and , princes all ,
+Lay negligent and loose regard upon him :
+I will come last . 'Tis like he'll question me
+Why such unplausive eyes are bent on him :
+If so , I have derision med'cinable
+To use between your strangeness and his pride ,
+Which his own will shall have desire to drink .
+It may do good : pride hath no other glass
+To show itself but pride , for supple knees
+Feed arrogance and are the poor man's fees .
+
+We'll execute your purpose , and put on
+A form of strangeness as we pass along :
+So do each lord , and either greet him not ,
+Or else disdainfully , which shall shake him more
+Than if not look'd on . I will lead the way .
+
+What ! comes the general to speak with me ?
+You know my mind ; I'll fight no more 'gainst Troy .
+
+What says Achilles ? would he aught with us ?
+
+Would you , my lord , aught with the general ?
+
+No .
+
+Nothing , my lord .
+
+The better .
+
+
+Good day , good day .
+
+How do you ? how do you ?
+
+
+What ! does the cuckold scorn me ?
+
+How now , Patroclus ?
+
+Good morrow , Ajax .
+
+Ha ?
+
+Good morrow .
+
+Ay , and good next day too .
+
+
+What mean these fellows ? Know they not Achilles ?
+
+They pass by strangely : they were us'd to bend ,
+To send their smiles before them to Achilles ;
+To come as humbly as they us'd to creep
+To holy altars .
+
+What ! am I poor of late ?
+'Tis certain , greatness , once fall'n out with fortune ,
+Must fall out with men too : what the declin'd is
+He shall as soon read in the eyes of others
+As feel in his own fall ; for men , like butterflies ,
+Show not their mealy wings but to the summer ,
+And not a man , for being simply man ,
+Hath any honour , but honour for those honours
+That are without him , as places , riches , and favour ,
+Prizes of accident as oft as merit :
+Which when they fall , as being slippery standers ,
+The love that lean'd on them as slippery too ,
+Do one pluck down another , and together
+Die in the fall . But 'tis not so with me :
+Fortune and I are friends : I do enjoy
+At ample point all that I did possess ,
+Save these men's looks ; who do , methinks , find out
+Something not worth in me such rich beholding
+As they have often given . Here is Ulysses :
+I'll interrupt his reading .
+How now , Ulysses !
+
+Now , great Thetis' son !
+
+What are you reading ?
+
+A strange fellow here
+Writes me ,
+That man , how dearly ever parted ,
+How much in having , or without or in ,
+Cannot make boast to have that which he hath ,
+Nor feels not what he owes but by reflection ;
+As when his virtues shining upon others
+Heat them , and they retort that heat again
+To the first giver .
+
+This is not strange , Ulysses !
+The beauty that is borne here in the face
+The bearer knows not , but commends itself
+To others' eyes : nor doth the eye itself
+That most pure spirit of sense behold itself ,
+Not going from itself ; but eye to eye oppos'd
+Salutes each other with each other's form ;
+For speculation turns not to itself
+Till it hath travell'd and is mirror'd there
+Where it may see itself . This is not strange at all .
+
+I do not strain at the position ,
+It is familiar , but at the author s drift ;
+Who in his circumstance expressly proves
+That no man is the lord of any thing
+Though in and of him there be much consisting
+Till he communicate his parts to others :
+Nor doth he of himself know them for aught
+Till he behold them form'd in the applause
+Where they're extended ; who , like an arch , reverberates
+The voice again , or , like a gate of steel
+Fronting the sun , receives and renders back
+His figure and his heat . I was much rapt in this ;
+And apprehended here immediately
+The unknown Ajax .
+Heavens , what a man is there ! a very horse ,
+That has he knows not what . Nature , what things there are ,
+Most abject in regard , and dear in use !
+What things again most dear in the esteem
+And poor in worth ! Now shall we see to-morrow ,
+An act that very chance doth throw upon him ,
+Ajax renown'd . O heavens ! what some men do ;
+While some men leave to do .
+How some men creep in skittish Fortune's hall ,
+Whiles others play the idiots in her eyes !
+How one man eats into another's pride ,
+While pride is fasting in his wantonness !
+To see these Grecian lords ! why , even already
+They clap the lubber Ajax on the shoulder ,
+As if his foot were on brave Hector's breast ,
+And great Troy shrinking .
+
+I do believe it ; for they pass'd by me
+As misers do by beggars , neither gave to me
+Good word or look : what ! are my deeds forgot ?
+
+Time hath , my lord , a wallet at his back ,
+Wherein he puts alms for oblivion ,
+A great-siz'd monster of ingratitudes :
+Those scraps are good deeds past ; which are devour'd
+As fast as they are made , forgot as soon
+As done : perseverance , dear my lord ,
+Keeps honour bright : to have done , is to hang
+Quite out of fashion , like a rusty mail
+In monumental mockery . Take the instant way ;
+For honour travels in a strait so narrow
+Where one but goes abreast : keep , then , the path ;
+For emulation hath a thousand sons
+That one by one pursue : if you give way ,
+Or hedge aside from the direct forthright ,
+Like to an enter'd tide they all rush by
+And leave you hindmost ;
+Or , like a gallant horse fall'n in first rank ,
+Lie there for pavement to the abject rear ,
+O'errun and trampled on : then what they do in present ,
+Though less than yours in past , must o'ertop yours ;
+For time is like a fashionable host ,
+That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand ,
+And with his arms outstretch'd , as he would fly ,
+Grasps in the comer : welcome ever smiles ,
+And farewell goes out sighing . O ! let not virtue seek
+Remuneration for the thing it was ;
+For beauty , wit ,
+High birth , vigour of bone , desert in service ,
+Love , friendship , charity , are subjects all
+To envious and calumniating time .
+One touch of nature makes the whole world kin ,
+That all with one consent praise new-born gawds ,
+Though they are made and moulded of things past ,
+And give to dust that is a little gilt
+More laud than gilt o'er-dusted .
+The present eye praises the present object :
+Then marvel not , thou great and complete man ,
+That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax ;
+Since things in motion sooner catch the eye
+Than what not stirs . The cry went once on thee ,
+And still it might , and yet it may again ,
+If thou wouldst not entomb thyself alive ,
+And case thy reputation in thy tent ;
+Whose glorious deeds , but in these fields of late ,
+Made emulous missions 'mongst the gods themselves ,
+And drave great Mars to faction .
+
+Of this my privacy
+I have strong reasons .
+
+But 'gainst your privacy
+The reasons are more potent and heroical .
+'Tis known , Achilles , that you are in love
+With one of Priam's daughters .
+
+Ha ! known !
+
+Is that a wonder ?
+The providence that's in a watchful state
+Knows almost every grain of Plutus' gold ,
+Finds bottom in the uncomprehensive deeps ,
+Keeps place with thought , and almost , like the gods ,
+Does thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles .
+There is a mystery with whom relation
+Durst never meddle in the soul of state ,
+Which hath an operation more divine
+Than breath or pen can give expressure to .
+All the commerce that you have had with Troy
+As perfectly is ours as yours , my lord ;
+And better would it fit Achilles much
+To throw down Hector than Polyxena ;
+But it must grieve young Pyrrhus now at home ,
+When fame shall in our islands sound her trump ,
+And all the Greekish girls shall tripping sing ,
+'Great Hector's sister did Achilles win ,
+But our great Ajax bravely beat down him .'
+Farewell , my lord : I as your lover speak ;
+The fool slides o'er the ice that you should break .
+
+
+To this effect , Achilles , have I mov'd you .
+A woman impudent and mannish grown
+Is not more loath'd than an effeminate man
+In time of action . I stand condemn'd for this :
+They think my little stomach to the war
+And your great love to me restrains you thus .
+Sweet , rouse yourself ; and the weak wanton Cupid
+Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold ,
+And , like a dew-drop from the lion's mane ,
+Be shook to air .
+
+Shall Ajax fight with Hector ?
+
+Ay ; and perhaps receive much honour by him .
+
+I see my reputation is at stake ;
+My fame is shrewdly gor'd .
+
+O ! then , beware ;
+Those wounds heal ill that men do give themselves :
+Omission to do what is necessary
+Seals a commission to a blank of danger ;
+And danger , like an ague , subtly taints
+Even then when we sit idly in the sun .
+
+Go call Thersites hither , sweet Patroclus :
+I'll send the fool to Ajax and desire him
+T' invite the Trojan lords after the combat
+To see us here unarmed . I have a woman's longing ,
+An appetite that I am sick withal ,
+To see great Hector in his weeds of peace ;
+To talk with him and to behold his visage ,
+Even to my full of view . A labour sav'd !
+
+
+A wonder !
+
+What ?
+
+Ajax goes up and down the field , asking for himself .
+
+How so ?
+
+He must fight singly to-morrow with Hector , and is so prophetically proud of an heroical cudgelling that he raves in saying nothing .
+
+How can that be ?
+
+Why , he stalks up and down like a peacock , a stride and a stand ; ruminates like a hostess that hath no arithmetic but her brain to set down her reckoning ; bites his lip with a politic regard , as who should say 'There were wit in this head , an 'twould out ;' and so there is , but it lies as coldly in him as fire in a flint , which will not show without knocking . The man's undone for ever ; for if Hector break not his neck i' the combat , he'll break't himself in vainglory . He knows not me : I said , 'Good morrow , Ajax ;' and he replies , 'Thanks , Agamemnon .' What think you of this man that takes me for the general ? He's grown a very land-fish , languageless , a monster . A plague of opinion ! a man may wear it on both sides , like a leather jerkin .
+
+Thou must be my ambassador to him , Thersites .
+
+Who , I ? why , he'll answer nobody ; he professes not answering ; speaking is for beggars ; he wears his tongue in his arms . I will put on his presence : let Patroclus make demands to me , you shall see the pageant of Ajax .
+
+To him , Patroclus : tell him , I humbly desire the valiant Ajax to invite the most valorous Hector to come unarmed to my tent ; and to procure safe-conduct for his person of the magnanimous and most illustrious , six-or-seven-times-honoured captain-general of the Grecian army , Agamemnon , et c tera . Do this .
+
+Jove bless great Ajax !
+
+Hum !
+
+I come from the worthy Achilles ,
+
+Ha !
+
+Who most humbly desires you to invite Hector to his tent ,
+
+Hum !
+
+And to procure safe-conduct from Agamemnon .
+
+Agamemnon !
+
+Ay , my lord .
+
+Ha !
+
+What say you to't ?
+
+God be wi' you , with all my heart .
+
+Your answer , sir .
+
+If to-morrow be a fair day , by eleven o'clock it will go one way or other ; howsoever , he shall pay for me ere he has me .
+
+Your answer , sir .
+
+Fare you well , with all my heart .
+
+Why , but he is not in this tune , is he ?
+
+No , but he's out o' tune thus . What music will be in him when Hector has knocked out his brains , I know not ; but , I am sure , none , unless the fiddler Apollo get his sinews to make catlings on .
+
+Come , thou shalt bear a letter to him straight .
+
+Let me bear another to his horse , for that's the more capable creature .
+
+My mind is troubled , like a fountain stirr'd ;
+And I myself see not the bottom of it .
+
+
+Would the fountain of your mind were clear again , that I might water an ass at it ! I had rather be a tick in a sheep than such a valiant ignorance .
+
+See , ho ! who is that there ?
+
+It is the Lord neas .
+
+Is the prince there in person ?
+Had I so good occasion to lie long
+As you , Prince Paris , nothing but heavenly business
+Should rob my bed-mate of my company .
+
+That's my mind too . Good morrow , Lord neas .
+
+A valiant Greek , neas ; take his hand :
+Witness the process of your speech , wherein
+You told how Diomed , a whole week by days ,
+Did haunt you in the field .
+
+Health to you , valiant sir ,
+During all question of the gentle truce ;
+But when I meet you arm'd , as black defiance
+As heart can think or courage execute .
+
+The one and other Diomed embraces .
+Our bloods are now in calm , and , so long , health !
+But when contention and occasion meet ,
+By Jove , I'll play the hunter for thy life
+With all my force , pursuit , and policy .
+
+And thou shalt hunt a lion , that will fly
+With his face backward . In humane gentleness ,
+Welcome to Troy ! now , by Anchises' life ,
+Welcome , indeed ! By Venus' hand I swear ,
+No man alive can love in such a sort
+The thing he means to kill more excellently .
+
+We sympathize . Jove , let neas live ,
+If to my sword his fate be not the glory ,
+A thousand complete courses of the sun !
+But , in mine emulous honour , let him die ,
+With every joint a wound , and that to-morrow !
+
+We know each other well .
+
+We do ; and long to know each other worse .
+
+This is the most despiteful gentle greeting ,
+The noblest hateful love , that e'er I heard of .
+What business , lord , so early ?
+
+I was sent for to the king ; but why , I know not .
+
+His purpose meets you : 'twas to bring this Greek
+To Calchas' house , and there to render him ,
+For the enfreed Antenor , the fair Cressid .
+Let's have your company ; or , if you please ,
+Haste there before us . I constantly do think
+Or rather , call my thought a certain knowledge
+My brother Troilus lodges there to-night :
+Rouse him and give him note of our approach ,
+With the whole quality wherefore : I fear
+We shall be much unwelcome .
+
+That I assure you :
+Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece
+Than Cressid borne from Troy .
+
+There is no help ;
+The bitter disposition of the time
+Will have it so . On , lord ; we'll follow you .
+
+Good morrow , all .
+
+
+And tell me , noble Diomed ; faith , tell me true ,
+Even in the soul of sound good-fellowship ,
+Who , in your thoughts , merits fair Helen best
+Myself or Menelaus ?
+
+Both alike :
+He merits well to have her that doth seek her
+Not making any scruple of her soilure
+With such a hell of pain and world of charge ,
+And you as well to keep her that defend her
+Not palating the taste of her dishonour
+With such a costly loss of wealth and friends :
+He , like a puling cuckold , would drink up
+The lees and dregs of a flat tamed piece ;
+You , like a lecher , out of whorish loins
+Are pleas'd to breed out your inheritors :
+Both merits pois'd , each weighs nor less nor more ;
+But he as he , the heavier for a whore .
+
+You are too bitter to your country-woman .
+
+She's bitter to her country . Hear me , Paris :
+For every false drop in her bawdy veins
+A Grecian's life hath sunk ; for every scruple
+Of her contaminated carrion weight
+A Trojan hath been slain . Since she could speak ,
+She hath not given so many good words breath
+As for her Greeks and Trojans suffer'd death .
+
+Fair Diomed , you do as chapmen do ,
+Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy ;
+But we in silence hold this virtue well ,
+We'll not commend what we intend to sell .
+Here lies our way .
+
+
+Dear , trouble not yourself : the morn is cold .
+
+Then , sweet my lord , I'll call mine uncle down :
+He shall unbolt the gates .
+
+Trouble him not ;
+To bed , to bed : sleep kill those pretty eyes ,
+And give as soft attachment to thy senses
+As infants' empty of all thought !
+
+Good morrow then .
+
+I prithee now , to bed .
+
+Are you aweary of me ?
+
+O Cressida ! but that the busy day ,
+Wak'd by the lark , hath rous'd the ribald crows ,
+And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer ,
+I would not from thee .
+
+Night hath been too brief .
+
+Beshrew the witch ! with venomous wights she stays
+As tediously as hell , but flies the grasps of love
+With wings more momentary-swift than thought .
+You will catch cold , and curse me .
+
+Prithee , tarry :
+You men will never tarry .
+O foolish Cressid ! I might have still held off ,
+And then you would have tarried . Hark ! there's one up .
+
+What ! are all the doors open here ?
+
+It is your uncle .
+
+A pestilence on him ! now will he be mocking : I shall have such a life !
+
+
+How now , how now ! how go maiden-heads ?
+Here , you maid ! where's my cousin Cressid ?
+
+Go hang yourself , you naughty mocking uncle !
+You bring me to do and then you flout me too .
+
+To do what ? to do what ? let her say what : what have I brought you to do ?
+
+Come , come ; beshrew your heart ! you'll ne'er be good ,
+Nor suffer others .
+
+Ha , ha ! Alas , poor wretch ! a poor capocchia ! hast not slept to-night ? would he not , a naughty man , let it sleep ? a bugbear take him !
+
+Did not I tell you ? 'would he were knock'd o' the head !
+
+Who's that at door ? good uncle , go and see .
+My lord , come you again into my chamber :
+You smile , and mock me , as if I meant naughtily .
+
+Ha , ha !
+
+Come , you are deceiv'd , I think of no such thing .
+
+How earnestly they knock ! Pray you , come in :
+I would not for half Troy have you seen here .
+
+
+Who's there ? what's the matter ? will you beat down the door ? How now ! what's the matter ?
+
+
+Good morrow , lord , good morrow .
+
+Who's there ? my Lord neas ! By my troth ,
+I knew you not : what news with you so early ?
+
+Is not Prince Troilus here ?
+
+Here ! what should he do here ?
+
+Come , he is here , my lord : do not deny him : it doth import him much to speak with me .
+
+Is he here , say you ? 'tis more than I know , I'll be sworn : for my own part , I came in late . What should he do here ?
+
+Who ! nay , then : come , come , you'll do him wrong ere you're 'ware . You'll be so true to him , to be false to him . Do not you know of him , but yet go fetch him hither ; go .
+
+
+How now ! what's the matter ?
+
+My lord , I scarce have leisure to salute you ,
+My matter is so rash : there is at hand
+Paris your brother , and Deiphobus ,
+The Grecian Diomed , and our Antenor
+Deliver'd to us ; and for him forthwith ,
+Ere the first sacrifice , within this hour ,
+We must give up to Diomedes' hand
+The Lady Cressida .
+
+Is it so concluded ?
+
+By Priam , and the general state of Troy :
+They are at hand and ready to effect it .
+
+How my achievements mock me !
+I will go meet them : and , my Lord neas ,
+We met by chance ; you did not find me here .
+
+Good , good , my lord ; the secrets of nature
+Have not more gift in taciturnity .
+
+
+Is't possible ? no sooner got but lost ?
+The devil take Antenor ! the young prince will go mad : a plague upon Antenor ! I would they had broke's neck !
+
+
+How now ! What is the matter ? Who was here ?
+
+Ah ! ah !
+
+Why sigh you so profoundly ? where's my lord ? gone ! Tell me , sweet uncle , what's the matter ?
+
+Would I were as deep under the earth as I am above !
+
+O the gods ! what's the matter ?
+
+Prithee , get thee in . Would thou hadst ne'er been born ! I knew thou wouldst be his death . O poor gentleman ! A plague upon Antenor !
+
+Good uncle , I beseech you , on my knees I beseech you , what's the matter ?
+
+Thou must be gone , wench , thou must be gone ; thou art changed for Antenor . Thou must to thy father , and be gone from Troilus : 'twill be his death ; 'twill be his bane ; he cannot bear it .
+
+O you immortal gods ! I will not go .
+
+Thou must .
+
+I will not , uncle : I have forgot my father ;
+I know no touch of consanguinity ;
+No kin , no love , no blood , no soul so near me
+As the sweet Troilus . O you gods divine !
+Make Cressid's name the very crown of falsehood
+If ever she leave Troilus ! Time , force , and death ,
+Do to this body what extremes you can ;
+But the strong base and building of my love
+Is as the very centre of the earth ,
+Drawing all things to it . I'll go in and weep ,
+
+Do , do .
+
+Tear my bright hair , and scratch my praised cheeks ,
+Crack my clear voice with sobs , and break my heart
+With sounding Troilus . I will not go from Troy .
+
+
+It is great morning , and the hour prefix'd
+Of her delivery to this valiant Greek
+Comes fast upon . Good my brother Troilus ,
+Tell you the lady what she is to do ,
+And haste her to the purpose .
+
+Walk into her house ;
+I'll bring her to the Grecian presently :
+And to his hand when I deliver her ,
+Think it an altar , and thy brother Troilus
+A priest , there offering to it his own heart .
+
+
+I know what 'tis to love ;
+And would , as I shall pity , I could help !
+Please you walk in , my lords .
+
+
+Be moderate , be moderate .
+
+Why tell you me of moderation ?
+The grief is fine , full , perfect , that I taste ,
+And violenteth in a sense as strong
+As that which causeth it : how can I moderate it ?
+If I could temporize with my affection ,
+Or brew it to a weak and colder palate ,
+The like allayment could I give my grief :
+My love admits no qualifying dross ;
+No more my grief , in such a precious loss .
+
+
+Here , here , here he comes . Ah ! sweet ducks .
+
+O Troilus ! Troilus !
+
+What a pair of spectacles is here ! Let me embrace too . 'O heart ,' as the goodly saying is ,
+
+O heart , heavy heart ,
+Why sigh'st thou without breaking ?
+
+when he answers again ,
+
+Because thou canst not ease thy smart
+By friendship nor by speaking .
+
+There was never a truer rime . Let us cast away nothing , for we may live to have need of such a verse : we see it , we see it . How now , lambs !
+
+Cressid , I love thee in so strain'd a purity ,
+That the bless'd gods , as angry with my fancy ,
+More bright in zeal than the devotion which
+Cold lips blow to their deities , take thee from me .
+
+Have the gods envy ?
+
+Ay , ay , ay , ay ; 'tis too plain a case .
+
+And is it true that I must go from Troy ?
+
+A hateful truth .
+
+What ! and from Troilus too ?
+
+From Troy and Troilus .
+
+Is it possible ?
+
+And suddenly ; where injury of chance
+Puts back leave-taking , justles roughly by
+All time of pause , rudely beguiles our lips
+Of all rejoindure , forcibly prevents
+Our lock'd embrasures , strangles our dear vows
+Even in the birth of our own labouring breath .
+We two , that with so many thousand sighs
+Did buy each other , must poorly sell ourselves
+With the rude brevity and discharge of one .
+Injurious time now with a robber's haste
+Crams his rich thievery up , he knows not how :
+As many farewells as be stars in heaven ,
+With distinct breath and consign'd kisses to them ,
+He fumbles up into a loose adieu ,
+And scants us with a single famish'd kiss ,
+Distasted with the salt of broken tears .
+
+My lord , is the lady ready ?
+
+Hark ! you are call'd : some say the Genius so
+Cries 'Come !' to him that instantly must die .
+Bid them have patience ; she shall come anon .
+
+Where are my tears ? rain , to lay this wind , or my heart will be blown up by the root !
+
+
+I must then to the Grecians ?
+
+No remedy .
+
+A woeful Cressid 'mongst the merry Greeks !
+When shall we see again ?
+
+Hear me , my love . Be thou but true of heart ,
+
+I true ! how now ! what wicked deem is this ?
+
+Nay , we must use expostulation kindly ,
+For it is parting from us :
+I speak not 'be thou true ,' as fearing thee ,
+For I will throw my glove to Death himself ,
+That there's no maculation in thy heart ;
+But , 'be thou true ,' say I , to fashion in
+My sequent protestation ; be thou true ,
+And I will see thee .
+
+O ! you shall be expos'd , my lord , to dangers
+As infinite as imminent ; but I'll be true .
+
+And I'll grow friend with danger . Wear this sleeve .
+
+And you this glove . When shall I see you ?
+
+I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels ,
+To give thee nightly visitation .
+But yet , be true .
+
+O heavens ! 'be true' again !
+
+Hear why I speak it , love :
+The Grecian youths are full of quality ;
+They're loving , well compos'd , with gifts of nature ,
+Flowing and swelling o'er with arts and exercise :
+How novelty may move , and parts with person ,
+Alas ! a kind of godly jealousy ,
+Which , I beseech you , call a virtuous sin ,
+Makes me afear'd .
+
+O heavens ! you love me not .
+
+Die I a villain , then !
+In this I do not call your faith in question
+So mainly as my merit : I cannot sing ,
+Nor heel the high lavolt , nor sweeten talk ,
+Nor play at subtle games ; fair virtues all ,
+To which the Grecians are most prompt and pregnant :
+But I can tell that in each grace of these
+There lurks a still and dumb-discoursive devil
+That tempts most cunningly . But be not tempted .
+
+Do you think I will ?
+
+No .
+But something may be done that we will not :
+And sometimes we are devils to ourselves
+When we will tempt the frailty of our powers ,
+Presuming on their changeful potency .
+
+Nay , good my lord ,
+
+Come , kiss ; and let us part .
+
+Brother Troilus !
+
+Good brother , come you hither ;
+And bring neas and the Grecian with you .
+
+My lord , will you be true ?
+
+Who , I ? alas , it is my vice , my fault :
+While others fish with craft for great opinion ,
+I with great truth catch mere simplicity ;
+Whilst some with cunning gild their copper crowns ,
+With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare .
+Fear not my truth ; the moral of my wit
+Is plain , and true ; there's all the reach of it .
+
+
+Welcome , Sir Diomed ! Here is the lady
+Which for Antenor we deliver you :
+At the port , lord , I'll give her to thy hand ,
+And by the way possess thee what she is .
+Entreat her fair ; and , by my soul , fair Greek ,
+If e'er thou stand at mercy of my sword ,
+Name Cressid , and thy life shall be as safe
+
+As Priam is in Ilion .
+
+Fair Lady Cressid ,
+So please you , save the thanks this prince expects :
+The lustre in your eye , heaven in your cheek ,
+Pleads your fair usage ; and to Diomed
+You shall be mistress , and command him wholly .
+
+Grecian , thou dost not use me courteously ,
+To shame the zeal of my petition to thee
+In praising her : I tell thee , lord of Greece ,
+She is as far high-soaring o'er thy praises
+As thou unworthy to be call'd her servant .
+I charge thee use her well , even for my charge ;
+For , by the dreadful Pluto , if thou dost not ,
+Though the great bulk Achilles be thy guard ,
+I'll cut thy throat .
+
+O ! be not mov'd , Prince Troilus :
+Let me be privileg'd by my place and message
+To be a speaker free ; when I am hence ,
+I'll answer to my lust ; and know you , lord ,
+I'll nothing do on charge : to her own worth
+She shall be priz'd ; but that you say 'be't so ,'
+I'll speak it in my spirit and honour , 'no .'
+
+Come , to the port . I'll tell thee , Diomed ,
+This brave shall oft make thee to hide thy head .
+Lady , give me your hand , and , as you walk ,
+To our own selves bend we our needful talk .
+
+
+Hark ! Hector's trumpet .
+
+How have we spent this morning !
+The prince must think me tardy and remiss ,
+That swore to ride before him to the field .
+
+'Tis Troilus' fault . Come , come , to field with him .
+
+Let us make ready straight .
+
+Yea , with a bridegroom's fresh alacrity ,
+Let us address to tend on Hector's heels :
+The glory of our Troy doth this day lie
+On his fair worth and single chivalry .
+
+
+Here art thou in appointment fresh and fair ,
+Anticipating time with starting courage .
+Give with thy trumpet a loud note to Troy ,
+Thou dreadful Ajax ; that the appalled air
+May pierce the head of the great combatant
+And hale him hither .
+
+Thou , trumpet , there's my purse .
+Now crack thy lungs , and split thy brazen pipe :
+Blow , villain , till thy sphered bias cheek
+Outswell the colic of puff'd Aquilon .
+Come , stretch thy chest , and let thy eyes spout blood ;
+Thou blow'st for Hector .
+
+
+No trumpet answers .
+
+'Tis but early days .
+
+Is not yond Diomed with Calchas' daughter ?
+
+'Tis he , I ken the manner of his gait ;
+He rises on the toe : that spirit of his
+In aspiration lifts him from the earth .
+
+
+Is this the Lady Cressid ?
+
+Even she .
+
+Most dearly welcome to the Greeks , sweet lady .
+
+Our general doth salute you with a kiss .
+
+Yet is the kindness but particular ;
+'Twere better she were kiss'd in general .
+
+And very courtly counsel : I'll begin .
+So much for Nestor .
+
+I'll take that winter from your lips , fair lady :
+Achilles bids you welcome .
+
+I had good argument for kissing once .
+
+But that's no argument for kissing now ;
+For thus popp'd Paris in his hardiment ,
+And parted thus you and your argument .
+
+O , deadly gall , and theme of all our scorns !
+For which we lose our heads to gild his horns .
+
+The first was Menelaus' kiss ; this , mine :
+Patroclus kisses you .
+
+O ! this is trim .
+
+Paris and I , kiss evermore for him .
+
+I'll have my kiss , sir . Lady , by your leave .
+
+In kissing , do you render or receive ?
+
+Both take and give .
+
+I'll make my match to live ,
+The kiss you take is better than you give ;
+Therefore no kiss .
+
+I'll give you boot ; I'll give you three for one .
+
+You're an odd man ; give even , or give none .
+
+An odd man , lady ! every man is odd .
+
+No , Paris is not ; for , you know 'tis true ,
+That you are odd , and he is even with you .
+
+You fillip me o' the head .
+
+No , I'll be sworn .
+
+It were no match , your nail against his horn .
+May I , sweet lady , beg a kiss of you ?
+
+You may .
+
+I do desire it .
+
+Why , beg , then .
+
+Why , then , for Venus' sake , give me a kiss ,
+When Helen is a maid again , and his .
+
+I am your debtor ; claim it when 'tis due .
+
+Never's my day , and then a kiss of you .
+
+Lady , a word : I'll bring you to your father .
+
+
+A woman of quick sense .
+
+Fie , fie upon her !
+There's language in her eye , her cheek , her lip ,
+Nay , her foot speaks ; her wanton spirits look out
+At every joint and motive of her body .
+O ! these encounterers , so glib of tongue ,
+That give a coasting welcome ere it comes ,
+And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts
+To every tickling reader , set them down
+For sluttish spoils of opportunity
+And daughters of the game .
+
+
+The Trojans' trumpet .
+
+Yonder comes the troop .
+
+
+Hail , all you state of Greece ! what shall be done
+To him that victory commands ? or do you purpose
+A victor shall be known ? will you the knights
+Shall to the edge of all extremity
+Pursue each other , or shall be divided
+By any voice or order of the field ?
+Hector bade ask .
+
+Which way would Hector have it ?
+
+He cares not ; he'll obey conditions .
+
+'Tis done like Hector ; but securely done ,
+A little proudly , and great deal misprising
+The knight oppos'd .
+
+If not Achilles , sir .
+What is your name ?
+
+If not Achilles , nothing .
+
+Therefore Achilles ; but , whate'er , know this :
+In the extremity of great and little ,
+Valour and pride excel themselves in Hector ;
+The one almost as infinite as all ,
+The other blank as nothing . Weigh him well ,
+And that which looks like pride is courtesy .
+This Ajax is half made of Hector's blood :
+In love whereof half Hector stays at home ;
+Half heart , half hand , half Hector comes to seek
+This blended knight , half Trojan , and half Greek .
+
+A maiden battle , then ? O ! I perceive you .
+
+
+Here is Sir Diomed . Go , gentle knight ,
+Stand by our Ajax : as you and Lord neas
+Consent upon the order of their fight ,
+So be it ; either to the uttermost ,
+Or else a breath : the combatants being kin
+Half stints their strife before their strokes begin .
+
+
+They are oppos'd already .
+
+What Trojan is that same that looks so heavy ?
+
+The youngest son of Priam , a true knight :
+Not yet mature , yet matchless ; firm of word ,
+Speaking in deeds and deedless in his tongue ;
+Not soon provok'd , nor being provok'd soon calm'd :
+His heart and hand both open and both free ;
+For what he has he gives , what thinks he shows ;
+Yet gives he not till judgment guide his bounty ,
+Nor dignifies an impure thought with breath .
+Manly as Hector , but more dangerous ;
+For Hector , in his blaze of wrath , subscribes
+To tender objects ; but he in heat of action
+Is more vindicative than jealous love .
+They call him Troilus , and on him erect
+A second hope , as fairly built as Hector .
+Thus says neas ; one that knows the youth
+Even to his inches , and with private soul
+Did in great Ilion thus translate him to me .
+
+
+They are in action .
+
+Now , Ajax , hold thine own !
+
+Hector , thou sleep'st ; awake thee !
+
+His blows are well dispos'd : there , Ajax !
+
+You must no more .
+
+
+Princes , enough , so please you .
+
+I am not warm yet ; let us fight again .
+
+As Hector pleases .
+
+Why , then will I no more :
+Thou art , great lord , my father's sister's son ,
+A cousin-german to great Priam's seed ;
+The obligation of our blood forbids
+A gory emulation 'twixt us twain .
+Were thy commixtion Greek and Trojan so
+That thou couldst say , 'This hand is Grecian all ,
+And this is Trojan ; the sinews of this leg
+All Greek , and this all Troy ; my mother's blood
+Runs on the dexter cheek , and this sinister
+Bounds in my father's ,' by Jove multipotent ,
+Thou shouldst not bear from me a Greekish member
+Wherein my sword had not impressure made
+Of our rank feud . But the just gods gainsay
+That any drop thou borrow'dst from thy mother ,
+My sacred aunt , should by my mortal sword
+Be drain'd ! Let me embrace thee , Ajax ;
+By him that thunders , thou hast lusty arms ;
+Hector would have them fall upon him thus :
+Cousin , all honour to thee !
+
+I thank thee , Hector :
+Thou art too gentle and too free a man :
+I came to kill thee , cousin , and bear hence
+A great addition earned in thy death .
+
+Not Neoptolemus so mirable ,
+On whose bright crest Fame with her loud'st byes
+Cries , 'This is he !' could promise to himself
+A thought of added honour torn from Hector .
+
+There is expectance here from both the sides ,
+What further you will do .
+
+We'll answer it ;
+The issue is embracement : Ajax , farewell .
+
+If I might in entreaties find success ,
+As seld I have the chance ,I would desire
+My famous cousin to our Grecian tents .
+
+'Tis Agamemnon's wish , and great Achilles
+Doth long to see unarm'd the valiant Hector .
+
+neas , call my brother Troilus to me ,
+And signify this loving interview
+To the expecters of our Trojan part ;
+Desire them home . Give me thy hand , my cousin ;
+I will go eat with thee and see your knights .
+
+Great Agamemnon comes to meet us here .
+
+The worthiest of them tell me name by name ;
+But for Achilles , mine own searching eyes
+Shall find him by his large and portly size .
+
+Worthy of arms ! as welcome as to one
+That would be rid of such an enemy ;
+But that's no welcome ; understand more clear ,
+What's past and what's to come is strew'd with husks
+And formless ruin of oblivion ;
+But in this extant moment , faith and troth ,
+Strain'd purely from all hollow bias-drawing ,
+Bids thee , with most divine integrity ,
+From heart of very heart , great Hector , welcome .
+
+I thank thee , most imperious Agamemnon .
+
+My well-fam'd Lord of Troy , no less to you .
+
+Let me confirm my princely brother's greeting :
+You brace of war-like brothers , welcome hither .
+
+Whom must we answer ?
+
+The noble Menelaus .
+
+O ! you , my lord ? by Mars his gauntlet , thanks !
+Mock not that I affect the untraded oath ;
+Your quondam wife swears still by Venus' glove :
+She's well , but bade me not commend her to you .
+
+Name her not now , sir ; she's a deadly theme .
+
+O ! pardon ; I offend .
+
+I have , thou gallant Trojan , seen thee oft ,
+Labouring for destiny , make cruel way
+Through ranks of Greekish youth : and I have seen thee ,
+As hot as Perseus , spur thy Phrygian steed ,
+Despising many forfeits and subduements ,
+When thou hast hung thy advanc'd sword i' th' air ,
+Not letting it decline on the declin'd ;
+That I have said to some my standers-by ,
+'Lo ! Jupiter is yonder , dealing life !'
+And I have seen thee pause and take thy breath ,
+When that a ring of Greeks have hemm'd thee in ,
+Like an Olympian wrestling : this have I seen ;
+But this thy countenance , still lock'd in steel ,
+I never saw till now . I knew thy grandsire ,
+And once fought with him : he was a soldier good ;
+But , by great Mars , the captain of us all ,
+Never like thee . Let an old man embrace thee ;
+And , worthy warrior , welcome to our tents .
+
+'Tis the old Nestor .
+
+Let me embrace thee , good old chronicle ,
+That hast so long walk'd hand in hand with time :
+Most reverend Nestor , I am glad to clasp thee .
+
+I would my arms could match thee in contention ,
+As they contend with thee in courtesy .
+
+I would they could .
+
+Ha !
+By this white beard , I'd fight with thee to-morrow .
+Well , welcome , welcome ! I have seen the time .
+
+I wonder now how yonder city stands ,
+When we have here her base and pillar by us .
+
+I know your favour , Lord Ulysses , well .
+Ah ! sir , there's many a Greek and Trojan dead ,
+Since first I saw yourself and Diomed
+In Ilion , on your Greekish embassy .
+
+Sir , I foretold you then what would ensue :
+My prophecy is but half his journey yet ;
+For yonder walls , that pertly front your town ,
+Yond towers , whose wanton tops do buss the clouds ,
+Must kiss their own feet .
+
+I must not believe you :
+There they stand yet , and modestly I think ,
+The fall of every Phrygian stone will cost
+A drop of Grecian blood : the end crowns all ,
+And that old common arbitrator , Time ,
+Will one day end it .
+
+So to him we leave it .
+Most gentle and most valiant Hector , welcome .
+After the general , I beseech you next
+To feast with me and see me at my tent .
+
+I shall forestall thee , Lord Ulysses , thou !
+Now , Hector , I have fed mine eyes on thee ;
+I have with exact view perus'd thee , Hector ,
+And quoted joint by joint .
+
+Is this Achilles ?
+
+I am Achilles .
+
+Stand fair , I pray thee : let me look on thee .
+
+Behold thy fill .
+
+Nay , I have done already .
+
+Thou art too brief : I will the second time ,
+As I would buy thee , view thee limb by limb .
+
+O ! like a book of sport thou'lt read me o'er ;
+But there's more in me than thou understand'st .
+Why dost thou so oppress me with thine eye ?
+
+Tell me , you heavens , in which part of his body
+Shall I destroy him ? whether there , or there , or there ?
+That I may give the local wound a name ,
+And make distinct the very breach whereout
+Hector's great spirit flew . Answer me , heavens !
+
+It would discredit the bless'd gods , proud man ,
+To answer such a question . Stand again :
+Think'st thou to catch my life so pleasantly
+As to prenominate in nice conjecture
+Where thou wilt hit me dead ?
+
+I tell thee , yea .
+
+Wert thou an oracle to tell me so ,
+I'd not believe thee . Henceforth guard thee well ,
+For I'll not kill thee there , nor there , nor there ;
+But , by the forge that stithied Mars his helm ,
+I'll kill thee every where , yea , o'er and o'er .
+You wisest Grecians , pardon me this brag ;
+His insolence draws folly from my lips ;
+But I'll endeavour deeds to match these words ,
+Or may I never
+
+Do not chafe thee , cousin :
+And you , Achilles , let these threats alone ,
+Till accident or purpose bring you to't :
+You may have every day enough of Hector ,
+If you have stomach . The general state , I fear ,
+Can scarce entreat you to be odd with him .
+
+I pray you , let us see you in the field ;
+We have had pelting wars since you refus'd
+The Grecians' cause .
+
+Dost thou entreat me , Hector ?
+To-morrow do I meet thee , fell as death ;
+To-night all friends .
+
+Thy hand upon that match .
+
+First , all you peers of Greece , go to my tent ;
+There in the full convive we afterwards ,
+As Hector's leisure and your bounties shall
+Concur together , severally entreat him .
+Beat loud the tabourines , let the trumpets blow ,
+That this great soldier may his welcome know .
+
+
+My Lord Ulysses , tell me , I beseech you ,
+In what place of the field doth Calchas keep ?
+
+At Menelaus' tent , most princely Troilus :
+There Diomed doth feast with him to-night ;
+Who neither looks upon the heaven nor earth ,
+But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view
+On the fair Cressid .
+
+Shall I , sweet lord , be bound to thee so much ,
+After we part from Agamemnon's tent ,
+To bring me thither ?
+
+You shall command me , sir .
+As gentle tell me , of what honour was
+This Cressida in Troy ? Had she no lover there
+That wails her absence ?
+
+O , sir ! to such as boasting show their scars
+A mock is due . Will you walk on , my lord ?
+She was belov'd , she lov'd ; she is , and doth :
+But still sweet love is food for fortune's tooth .
+
+
+I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine to-night ,
+Which with my scimitar I'll cool to-morrow .
+Patroclus , let us feast him to the height .
+
+Here comes Thersites .
+
+
+How now , thou core of envy !
+Thou crusty batch of nature , what's the news ?
+
+Why , thou picture of what thou seemest , and idol of idiot-worshippers , here's a letter for thee .
+
+From whence , fragment ?
+
+Why , thou full dish of fool , from Troy .
+
+Who keeps the tent now ?
+
+The surgeon's box , or the patient's wound .
+
+Well said , adversity ! and what need these tricks ?
+
+Prithee , be silent , boy : I profit not by thy talk : thou art thought to be Achilles' male varlet .
+
+Male varlet , you rogue ! what's that ?
+
+Why , his masculine whore . Now , the rotten diseases of the south , the guts-griping , ruptures , catarrhs , loads o' gravel i' the back , lethargies , cold palsies , raw eyes , dirt-rotten livers , wheezing lungs , bladders full of imposthume , sciaticas , lime-kilns i' the palm , incurable bone-ache , and the rivelled fee-simple of the tetter , take and take again such preposterous discoveries !
+
+Why , thou damnable box of envy , thou , what meanest thou to curse thus ?
+
+Do I curse thee ?
+
+Why , no , you ruinous butt , you whoreson indistinguishable cur , no .
+
+No ! why art thou then exasperate , thou idle immaterial skein of sleave silk , thou green sarcenet flap for a sore eye , thou tassel of a prodigal's purse , thou ? Ah ! how the poor world is pestered with such water-flies , diminutives of nature .
+
+Out , gall !
+
+Finch egg !
+
+My sweet Patroclus , I am thwarted quite
+From my great purpose in to-morrow's battle .
+Here is a letter from Queen Hecuba ,
+A token from her daughter , my fair love ,
+Both taxing me and gaging me to keep
+An oath that I have sworn . I will not break it :
+Fall Greeks ; fail fame ; honour or go or stay ;
+My major vow lies here , this I'll obey .
+Come , come , Thersites , help to trim my tent ;
+This night in banqueting must all be spent .
+Away , Patroclus !
+
+
+With too much blood and too little brain , these two may run mad ; but if with too much brain , and too little blood they do , I'll be a curer of madmen . Here's Agamemnon , an honest fellow enough , and one that loves quails , but he has not so much brain as ear-wax : and the goodly transformation of Jupiter there , his brother , the bull , the primitive statue , and oblique memorial of cuckolds ; a thrifty shoeing-horn in a chain , hanging at his brother's leg , to what form but that he is should wit larded with malice and malice forced with wit turn him to ? To an ass , were nothing : he is both ass and ox ; to an ox , were nothing : he is both ox and ass . To be a dog , a mule , a cat , a fitchew , a toad , a lizard , an owl , a puttock , or a herring without a roe , I would not care ; but to be Menelaus ! I would conspire against destiny . Ask me not what I would be , if I were not Thersites , for I care not to be the louse of a lazar , so I were not Menelaus . Hey-day ! spirits and fires !
+
+
+We go wrong , we go wrong .
+
+No , yonder 'tis ;
+There , where we see the lights .
+
+I trouble you .
+
+No , not a whit .
+
+Here comes himself to guide you .
+
+
+Welcome , brave Hector ; welcome , princes all .
+
+So now , fair prince of Troy , I bid good-night .
+Ajax commands the guard to tend on you .
+
+Thanks and good-night to the Greeks' general .
+
+Good-night , my lord .
+
+Good-night , sweet Lord Menelaus .
+
+Sweet draught : 'sweet ,' quoth a' ! sweet sink , sweet sewer .
+
+Good-night and welcome both at once , to those
+That go or tarry .
+
+Good-night .
+
+
+Old Nestor tarries ; and you too , Diomed ,
+Keep Hector company an hour or two .
+
+I cannot , lord ; I have important business ,
+The tide whereof is now . Good-night , great Hector .
+
+Give me your hand .
+
+Follow his torch ; he goes to Calchas' tent .
+I'll keep you company .
+
+Sweet sir , you honour me .
+
+And so , good-night .
+
+
+Come , come , enter my tent .
+
+
+That same Diomed's a false-hearted rogue , a most unjust knave ; I will no more trust him when he leers than I will a serpent when he hisses . He will spend his mouth , and promise , like Brabbler the hound ; but when he performs , astronomers foretell it : it is prodigious , there will come some change : the sun borrows of the moon when Diomed keeps his word . I will rather leave to see Hector , than not to dog him : they say he keeps a Trojan drab , and uses the traitor Calchas' tent . I'll after . Nothing but lechery ! all incontinent varlets .
+
+
+What , are you up here , ho ! speak .
+
+Who calls ?
+
+Diomed . Calchas , I think . Where's your daughter ?
+
+She comes to you .
+
+
+Stand where the torch may not discover us .
+
+
+Cressid comes forth to him .
+
+How now , my charge !
+
+Now , my sweet guardian ! Hark ! a word with you .
+
+
+Yea , so familiar !
+
+She will sing any man at first sight .
+
+And any man may sing her , if he can take her cliff ; she's noted .
+
+Will you remember ?
+
+Remember ! yes .
+
+Nay , but do , then ;
+And let your mind be coupled with your words .
+
+What should she remember ?
+
+List !
+
+Sweet honey Greek , tempt me no more to folly .
+
+Roguery !
+
+Nay , then ,
+
+I'll tell you what ,
+
+Foh , foh ! come , tell a pin : you are forsworn .
+
+In faith , I cannot . What would you have me do ?
+
+A juggling trick ,to be secretly open .
+
+What did you swear you would bestow on me ?
+
+I prithee , do not hold me to mine oath ;
+Bid me do anything but that , sweet Greek .
+
+Good-night .
+
+Hold , patience !
+
+How now , Trojan ?
+
+Diomed ,
+
+No , no , good-night ; I'll be your fool no more .
+
+Thy better must .
+
+Hark ! one word in your ear .
+
+O plague and madness !
+
+You are mov'd , prince ; let us depart , I pray you ,
+Lest your displeasure should enlarge itself
+To wrathful terms . This place is dangerous ;
+The time right deadly . I beseech you , go .
+
+Behold , I pray you !
+
+Nay , good my lord , go off :
+You flow to great distraction ; come , my lord .
+
+I pray thee , stay .
+
+You have not patience ; come .
+
+I pray you , stay . By hell , and all hell's torments ,
+I will not speak a word !
+
+And so , good-night .
+
+Nay , but you part in anger .
+
+Doth that grieve thee ?
+O wither'd truth !
+
+Why , how now , lord !
+
+By Jove ,
+I will be patient .
+
+Guardian !why , Greek !
+
+Foh , foh ! adieu ; you palter .
+
+In faith , I do not : come hither once again .
+
+You shake , my lord , at something : will you go ?
+You will break out .
+
+She strokes his cheek !
+
+Come , come .
+
+Nay , stay ; by Jove , I will not speak a word :
+There is between my will and all offences
+A guard of patience : stay a little while .
+
+How the devil Luxury , with his fat rump and potato finger , tickles these together ! Fry , lechery , fry !
+
+But will you , then ?
+
+In faith , I will , la ; never trust me else .
+
+Give me some token for the surety of it .
+
+I'll fetch you one .
+
+
+You have sworn patience .
+
+Fear me not , sweet lord ;
+I will not be myself , nor have cognition
+Of what I feel : I am all patience .
+
+
+Now the pledge ! now , now , now !
+
+Here , Diomed , keep this sleeve .
+
+O beauty ! where is thy faith ?
+
+My lord ,
+
+I will be patient ; outwardly I will .
+
+You look upon that sleeve ; behold it well .
+He lov'd me O false wench !Give't to me again .
+
+Whose was't ?
+
+It is no matter , now I have't again .
+I will not meet with you to-morrow night .
+I prithee , Diomed , visit me no more .
+
+Now she sharpens : well said , whetstone !
+
+I shall have it .
+
+What , this ?
+
+Ay , that .
+
+O ! all you gods . O pretty , pretty pledge !
+Thy master now lies thinking in his bed
+Of thee and me ; and sighs , and takes my glove ,
+And gives me norial dainty kisses to it ,
+As I kiss thee . Nay , do not snatch it from me ;
+He that takes that doth take my heart withal .
+
+I had your heart before ; this follows it .
+
+I did swear patience .
+
+You shall not have it , Diomed ; faith you shall not ;
+I'll give you something else .
+
+I will have this . Whose was it ?
+
+'Tis no matter .
+
+Come , tell me whose it was .
+
+'Twas one's that loved me better than you will .
+But , now you have it , take it .
+
+Whose was it ?
+
+By all Diana's waiting-women yond ,
+And by herself , I will not tell you whose .
+
+To-morrow will I wear it on my helm ,
+And grieve his spirit that dares not challenge it .
+
+Wert thou the devil , and wor'st it on thy horn ,
+It should be challeng'd .
+
+Well , well , 'tis done , 'tis past : and yet it is not :
+I will not keep my word .
+
+Why then , farewell ;
+Thou never shalt mock Diomed again .
+
+You shall not go : one cannot speak a word ,
+But it straight starts you .
+
+I do not like this fooling .
+
+Nor I , by Pluto : but that that likes not me
+Pleases me best .
+
+What , shall I come ? the hour ?
+
+Ay , come :O Jove !
+Do come :I shall be plagu'd .
+
+Farewell till then .
+
+Good-night : I prithee , come .
+
+Troilus , farewell ! one eye yet looks on thee ,
+But with my heart the other eye doth see .
+Ah ! poor our sex ; this fault in us I find ,
+The error of our eye directs our mind .
+What error leads must err . O ! then conclude
+Minds sway'd by eyes are full of turpitude .
+
+
+A proof of strength she could not publish more ,
+Unless she said , 'My mind is now turn'd whore .'
+
+All's done , my lord .
+
+It is .
+
+Why stay we , then ?
+
+To make a recordation to my soul
+Of every syllable that here was spoke .
+But if I tell how these two did co-act ,
+Shall I not lie in publishing a truth ?
+Sith yet there is a credence in my heart ,
+An esperance so obstinately strong ,
+That doth invert the attest of eyes and ears ,
+As if those organs had deceptions functions ,
+Created only to calumniate .
+Was Cressid here ?
+
+I cannot conjure , Trojan .
+
+She was not , sure .
+
+Most sure she was .
+
+Why , my negation hath no taste of madness .
+
+Nor mine , my lord : Cressid was here but now .
+
+Let it not be believ'd for womanhood !
+Think we had mothers ; do not give advantage
+To stubborn critics , apt , without a theme ,
+For depravation , to square the general sex
+By Cressid's rule : rather think this not Cressid .
+
+What hath she done , prince , that can soil our mothers ?
+
+Nothing at all , unless that this were she .
+
+Will he swagger himself out on's own eyes ?
+
+This she ? no , this is Diomed's Cressida .
+If beauty have a soul , this is not she ;
+If souls guide vows , if vows be sanctimony ,
+If sanctimony be the gods' delight ,
+If there be rule in unity itself ,
+This is not she . O madness of discourse ,
+That cause sets up with and against itself ;
+Bi-fold authority ! where reason can revolt
+Without perdition , and loss assume all reason
+Without revolt : this is , and is not , Cressid .
+Within my soul there doth conduce a fight
+Of this strange nature that a thing inseparate
+Divides more wider than the sky and earth ;
+And yet the spacious breadth of this division
+Admits no orifice for a point as subtle
+As Ariachne's broken woof to enter .
+Instance , O instance ! strong as Pluto's gates ;
+Cressid is mine , tied with the bonds of heaven :
+Instance , O instance ! strong as heaven itself ;
+The bonds of heaven are slipp'd , dissolv'd , and loos'd ;
+And with another knot , five-finger-tied ,
+The fractions of her faith , orts of her love ,
+The fragments , scraps , the bits , and greasy reliques
+Of her o'er-eaten faith , are bound to Diomed .
+
+May worthy Troilus be half attach'd
+With that which here his passion doth express ?
+
+Ay , Greek ; and that shall be divulged well
+In characters as red as Mars his heart
+Inflam'd with Venus : never did young man fancy
+With so eternal and so fix'd a soul .
+Hark , Greek : as much as I do Cressid love ,
+So much by weight hate I her Diomed ;
+That sleeve is mine that he'll bear on his helm ;
+Were it a casque compos'd by Vulcan's skill ,
+My sword should bite it . Not the dreadful spout
+Which shipmen do the hurricano call ,
+Constring'd in mass by the almighty sun ,
+Shall dizzy with more clamour Neptune's ear
+In his descent than shall my prompted sword
+Falling on Diomed .
+
+He'll tickle it for his concupy .
+
+O Cressid ! O false Cressid ! false , false , false !
+Let all untruths stand by thy stained name ,
+And they'll seem glorious .
+
+O ! contain yourself ;
+Your passion draws ears hither .
+
+
+I have been seeking you this hour , my lord .
+Hector , by this , is arming him in Troy :
+Ajax , your guard , stays to conduct you home .
+
+Have with you , prince . My courteous lord , adieu .
+Farewell , revolted fair ! and Diomed ,
+Stand fast , and wear a castle on thy head !
+
+I'll bring you to the gates .
+
+Accept distracted thanks .
+
+
+Would I could meet that rogue Diomed ! I would croak like a raven ; I would bode , I would bode . Patroclus would give me any thing for the intelligence of this whore : the parrot will not do more for an almond than he for a commodious drab . Lechery , lechery ; still , wars and lechery : nothing else holds fashion . A burning devil take them !
+
+
+When was my lord so much ungently temper'd ,
+To stop his ears against admonishment ?
+Unarm , unarm , and do not fight to-day .
+
+You train me to offend you ; get you in :
+By all the everlasting gods , I'll go .
+
+My dreams will , sure , prove ominous to the day .
+
+No more , I say .
+
+
+Where is my brother Hector ?
+
+Here , sister ; arm'd , and bloody in intent .
+Consort with me in loud and dear petition ;
+Pursue we him on knees ; for I have dream'd
+Of bloody turbulence , and this whole night
+Hath nothing been but shapes and forms of slaughter .
+
+O ! 'tis true .
+
+Ho ! bid my trumpet sound .
+
+No notes of sally , for the heavens , sweet brother .
+
+Be gone , I say : the gods have heard me swear .
+
+The gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows :
+They are polluted offerings , more abhorr'd
+Than spotted livers in the sacrifice .
+
+O ! be persuaded : do not count it holy
+To hurt by being just : it is as lawful ,
+For we would give much , to use violent thefts ,
+And rob in the behalf of charity .
+
+It is the purpose that makes strong the vow ;
+But vows to every purpose must not hold .
+Unarm , sweet Hector .
+
+Hold you still , I say ;
+Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate :
+Life every man holds dear ; but the dear man
+Holds honour far more precious-dear than life .
+
+How now , young man ! mean'st thou to fight to-day ?
+
+Cassandra , call my father to persuade .
+
+
+No , faith , young Troilus ; doff thy harness , youth ;
+I am to-day i' the vein of chivalry :
+Let grow thy sinews till their knots be strong ,
+And tempt not yet the brushes of the war .
+Unarm thee , go , and doubt thou not , brave boy ,
+I'll stand to-day for thee and me and Troy .
+
+Brother , you have a vice of mercy in you ,
+Which better fits a lion than a man .
+
+What vice is that , good Troilus ? chide me for it .
+
+When many times the captive Grecian falls ,
+Even in the fan and wind of your fair sword ,
+You bid them rise , and live .
+
+O ! 'tis fair play .
+
+Fool's play , by heaven , Hector .
+
+How now ! how now !
+
+For the love of all the gods ,
+Let's leave the hermit pity with our mothers ,
+And when we have our armours buckled on ,
+The venom'd vengeance ride upon our swords ,
+Spur them to ruthful work , rein them from ruth .
+
+Fie , savage , fie !
+
+Hector , then 'tis wars .
+
+Troilus , I would not have you fight to-day .
+
+Who should withhold me ?
+Not fate , obedience , nor the hand of Mars
+Beckoning with fiery truncheon my retire ;
+Not Priamus and Hecuba on knees ,
+Their eyes o'ergalled with recourse of tears ;
+Nor you , my brother , with your true sword drawn ,
+Oppos'd to hinder me , should stop my way ,
+But by my ruin .
+
+
+Lay hold upon him , Priam , hold him fast :
+He is thy crutch ; now if thou lose thy stay ,
+Thou on him leaning , and all Troy on thee ,
+Fall all together .
+
+Come , Hector , come ; go back :
+Thy wife hath dream'd ; thy mother hath had visions ;
+Cassandra doth foresee ; and I myself
+Am like a prophet suddenly enrapt ,
+To tell thee that this day is ominous :
+Therefore , come back .
+
+neas is a-field ;
+And I do stand engag'd to many Greeks ,
+Even in the faith of valour , to appear
+This morning to them .
+
+Ay , but thou shalt not go .
+
+I must not break my faith .
+You know me dutiful ; therefore , dear sir ,
+Let me not shame respect , but give me leave
+To take that course by your consent and voice ,
+Which you do here forbid me , royal Priam .
+
+O Priam ! yield not to him .
+
+Do not , dear father .
+
+Andromache , I am offended with you :
+Upon the love you bear me , get you in .
+
+
+This foolish , dreaming , superstitious girl
+Makes all these bodements .
+
+O farewell ! dear Hector .
+Look ! how thou diest ; look ! how thy eye turns pale ;
+Look ! how thy wounds do bleed at many vents :
+Hark ! how Troy roars : how Hecuba cries out !
+How poor Andromache shrills her dolours forth !
+Behold , distraction , frenzy , and amazement ,
+Like witless anticks , one another meet ,
+And all cry Hector ! Hector's dead ! O Hector !
+
+Away ! Away !
+
+Farewell . Yet , soft ! Hector , I take my leave :
+Thou dost thyself and all our Troy deceive .
+
+
+You are amaz'd , my liege , at her exclaim .
+Go in and cheer the town : we'll forth and fight ;
+Do deeds worth praise and tell you them at night .
+
+Farewell : the gods with safety stand about thee !
+
+
+They are at it , hark ! Proud Diomed , believe ,
+I come to lose my arm , or win my sleeve .
+
+
+Do you hear , my lord ? do you hear ?
+
+What now ?
+
+Here's a letter come from yond poor girl .
+
+Let me read .
+
+A whoreson tisick , a whoreson rascally tisick so troubles me , and the foolish fortune of this girl ; and what one thing , what another , that I shall leave you one o' these days : and I have a rheum in mine eyes too , and such an ache in my bones that , unless a man were cursed , I cannot tell what to think on't . What says she there ?
+
+Words , words , mere words , no matter from the heart ;
+The effect doth operate another way .
+
+Go , wind to wind , there turn and change together .
+My love with words and errors still she feeds ,
+But edifies another with her deeds .
+
+
+Now they are clapper-clawing one another ; I'll go look on . That dissembling abominable varlet , Diomed , has got that same scurvy doting foolish young knave's sleeve of Troy there in his helm : I would fain see them meet ; that that same young Trojan ass , that loves the whore there , might send that Greekish whoremasterly villain , with the sleeve , back to the dissembling luxurious drab , on a sleeveless errand . O' the other side , the policy of those crafty swearing rascals ,that stale old mouse-eaten dry cheese , Nestor , and that same dog-fox , Ulysses , is not proved worth a blackberry : they set me up , in policy , that mongrel cur , Ajax , against that dog of as bad a kind , Achilles ; and now is the cur Ajax prouder than the cur Achilles , and will not arm to-day ; whereupon the Grecians begin to proclaim barbarism , and policy grows into an ill opinion . Soft ! here comes sleeve , and t' other .
+
+
+Fly not ; for shouldst thou take the river Styx ,
+I would swim after .
+
+Thou dost miscall retire :
+I do not fly ; but advantageous care
+Withdrew me from the odds of multitude .
+Have at thee !
+
+Hold thy whore , Grecian ! now for thy whore , Trojan ! now the sleeve , now the sleeve !
+
+What art thou , Greek ? art thou for Hector's match ?
+Art thou of blood and honour ?
+
+No , no , I am a rascal ; a scurvy railing knave ; a very filthy rogue .
+
+I do believe thee : live .
+
+
+God-a-mercy , that thou wilt believe me ; but a plague break thy neck for frighting me ! What's become of the wenching rogues ? I think they have swallowed one another : I would laugh at that miracle ; yet , in a sort , lechery eats itself . I'll seek them .
+
+
+Go , go , my servant , take thou Troilus' horse ;
+Present the fair steed to my Lady Cressid :
+Fellow , commend my service to her beauty :
+Tell her I have chastis'd the amorous Trojan ,
+And am her knight by proof .
+
+I go , my lord .
+
+Renew , renew ! The fierce Polydamas
+Hath beat down Menon ; bastard Margarelon
+Hath Doreus prisoner ,
+And stands colossus-wise , waving his beam ,
+Upon the pashed corses of the kings
+Epistrophus and Cedius ; Polixenes is slain ;
+Amphimachus , and Thoas , deadly hurt ;
+Patroclus ta'en , or slain ; and Palamedes
+Sore hurt and bruis'd ; the dreadful Sagittary
+Appals our numbers : haste we , Diomed ,
+To reinforcement , or we perish all .
+
+
+Go , bear Patroclus' body to Achilles ;
+And bid the snail-pac'd Ajax arm for shame .
+There is a thousand Hectors in the field :
+Now here he fights on Galathe his horse ,
+And there lacks work ; anon he's there afoot ,
+And there they fly or die , like scaled sculls
+Before the belching whale ; then is he yonder ,
+And there the strawy Greeks , ripe for his edge ,
+Fall down before him , like the mower's swath :
+Here , there , and everywhere , he leaves and takes ,
+Dexterity so obeying appetite
+That what he will he does ; and does so much
+That proof is called impossibility .
+
+
+O ! courage , courage , princes ; great Achilles
+Is arming , weeping , cursing , vowing vengeance :
+Patroclus' wounds have rous'd his drowsy blood ,
+Together with his mangled Myrmidons ,
+That noseless , handless , hack'd and chipp'd , come to him ,
+Crying on Hector . Ajax hath lost a friend ,
+And foams at mouth , and he is arm'd and at it ,
+Roaring for Troilus , who hath done to-day
+Mad and fantastic execution ,
+Engaging and redeeming of himself
+With such a careless force and forceless care
+As if that luck , in very spite of cunning ,
+Bade him win all .
+
+
+Troilus ! thou coward Troilus !
+
+
+Ay , there , there .
+
+So , so , we draw together .
+
+
+Where is this Hector ?
+Come , come , thou boy-queller , show thy face ;
+Know what it is to meet Achilles angry :
+Hector ! where's Hector ? I will none but Hector .
+
+
+Troilus , thou coward Troilus , show thy head !
+
+
+Troilus , I say ! where's Troilus ?
+
+What wouldst thou ?
+
+I would correct him .
+
+Were I the general , thou shouldst have my office
+Ere that correction . Troilus , I say ! what , Troilus !
+
+
+O traitor Diomed ! Turn thy false face , thou traitor !
+And pay thy life thou ow'st me for my horse !
+
+Ha ! art thou there ?
+
+I'll fight with him alone : stand , Diomed .
+
+He is my prize ; I will not look upon .
+
+Come , both you cogging Greeks ; have at you both !
+
+Yea , Troilus ? O , well fought , my youngest brother !
+
+
+Now I do see thee . Ha ! have at thee , Hector !
+
+Pause , if thou wilt .
+
+I do disdain thy courtesy , proud Trojan .
+Be happy that my arms are out of use :
+My rest and negligence befriend thee now ,
+But thou anon shalt hear of me again ;
+Till when , go seek thy fortune .
+
+
+Fare thee well :
+I would have been much more a fresher man ,
+Had I expected thee . How now , my brother !
+
+
+Ajax hath ta'en neas : shall it be ?
+No , by the flame of yonder glorious heaven ,
+He shall not carry him : I'll be ta'en too ,
+Or bring him off . Fate , hear me what I say !
+I reck not though I end my life to-day .
+
+Stand , stand , thou Greek ; thou art a goodly mark .
+No ? wilt thou not ? I like thy armour well ;
+I'll frush it , and unlock the rivets all ,
+But I'll be master of it . Wilt thou not , beast , abide ?
+Why then , fly on , I'll hunt thee for thy hide .
+
+
+Come here about me , you my Myrmidons ;
+Mark what I say . Attend me where I wheel :
+Strike not a stroke , but keep yourselves in breath :
+And when I have the bloody Hector found ,
+Empale him with your weapons round about ;
+In fellest manner execute your aims .
+Follow me , sirs , and my proceedings eye :
+It is decreed , Hector the great must die .
+
+The cuckold and the cuckold-maker are at it . Now , bull ! now , dog ! 'Loo , Paris , 'loo ! now , my double-henned sparrow ! 'loo , Paris , 'loo ! The bull has the game : 'ware horns , ho !
+
+Turn , slave , and fight .
+
+What art thou ?
+
+A bastard son of Priam's .
+
+I am a bastard too ; I love bastards : I am a bastard begot , bastard instructed , bastard in mind , bastard in valour , in every thing illegitimate . One bear will not bite another , and wherefore should one bastard ? Take heed , the quarrel's most ominous to us : if the son of a whore fight for a whore , he tempts judgment . Farewell , bastard .
+
+
+The devil take thee , coward !
+
+
+Most putrefied core , so fair without ,
+Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life .
+Now is my day's work done ; I'll take good breath :
+Rest , sword ; thou hast thy fill of blood and death .
+
+Look , Hector , how the sun begins to set ;
+How ugly night comes breathing at his heels :
+Even with the vail and darking of the sun ,
+To close the day up , Hector's life is done .
+
+I am unarm'd ; forego this vantage , Greek .
+
+Strike , fellows , strike ! this is the man I seek .
+
+So , Ilion , fall thou next ! now , Troy , sink down !
+Here lies thy heart , thy sinews , and thy bone .
+On ! Myrmidons , and cry you all amain ,
+'Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain .'
+
+Hark ! a retreat upon our Grecian part .
+
+The Trojan trumpets sound the like , my lord .
+
+The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the earth ,
+And , stickler-like , the armies separates .
+My half-supp'd sword , that frankly would have fed ,
+Pleas'd with this dainty bait , thus goes to bed .
+
+Come , tie his body to my horse's tail ;
+Along the field I will the Trojan trail .
+
+
+Hark ! hark ! what shout is that ?
+
+Peace , drums !
+
+
+Achilles !
+Achilles ! Hector's slain ! Achilles !
+
+The bruit is , Hector's slain , and by Achilles .
+
+If it be so , yet bragless let it be ;
+Great Hector was a man as good as he .
+
+March patiently along . Let one be sent
+To pray Achilles see us at our tent .
+If in his death the gods have us befriended ,
+Great Troy is ours , and our sharp wars are ended .
+
+Stand , ho ! yet are we masters of the field .
+Never go home ; here starve we out the night .
+
+
+Hector is slain .
+
+Hector ! the gods forbid !
+
+He's dead ; and at the murderer's horse's tail ,
+In beastly sort , dragg'd through the shameful field .
+Frown on , you heavens , effect your rage with speed !
+Sit , gods , upon your thrones , and smile at Troy !
+I say , at once let your brief plagues be mercy ,
+And linger not our sure destructions on !
+
+My lord , you do discomfort all the host .
+
+You understand me not that tell me so .
+I do not speak of flight , of fear , of death ;
+But dare all imminence that gods and men
+Address their dangers in . Hector is gone :
+Who shall tell Priam so , or Hecuba ?
+Let him that will a screech-owl aye be call'd
+Go in to Troy , and say there Hector's dead :
+There is a word will Priam turn to stone ,
+Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives ,
+Cold statues of the youth ; and , in a word ,
+Scare Troy out of itself . But march away :
+Hector is dead ; there is no more to say .
+Stay yet . You vile abominable tents ,
+Thus proudly pight upon our Phrygian plains ,
+Let Titan rise as early as he dare ,
+I'll through and through you ! And , thou great-siz'd coward ,
+No space of earth shall sunder our two hates :
+I'll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still ,
+That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy's thoughts .
+Strike a free march to Troy ! with comfort go :
+Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe .
+
+But hear you , hear you !
+
+Hence , broker lackey ! ignomy and shame
+Pursue thy life , and live aye with thy name !
+
+
+A goodly medicine for my aching bones ! O world ! world ! world ! thus is the poor agent despised . O traitors and bawds , how earnestly are you set a-work , and how ill requited ! why should our endeavour be so loved , and the performance so loathed ? what verse for it ? what instance for it ?Let me see !
+
+Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing ,
+Till he hath lost his honey and his sting ;
+And being once subdu'd in armed tail ,
+Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail .
+
+Good traders in the flesh , set this in your painted cloths .
+
+As many as be here of pander's hall ,
+Your eyes , half out , weep out at Pandar's fall ;
+Or if you cannot weep , yet give some groans ,
+Though not for me , yet for your aching bones .
+Brethren and sisters of the hold-door trade ,
+Some two months hence my will shall here be made .
+It should be now , but that my fear is this ,
+Some galled goose of Winchester would hiss .
+Till then I'll sweat , and seek about for eases ;
+And at that time bequeath you my diseases
+
+TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR WHAT YOU WILL
+
+
+If music be the food of love , play on ;
+Give me excess of it , that , surfeiting ,
+The appetite may sicken , and so die .
+That strain again ! it had a dying fall :
+O ! it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound
+That breathes upon a bank of violets ,
+Stealing and giving odour . Enough ! no more :
+'Tis not so sweet now as it was before .
+O spirit of love ! how quick and fresh art thou ,
+That , notwithstanding thy capacity
+Receiveth as the sea , nought enters there ,
+Of what validity and pitch soe'er ,
+But falls into abatement and low price ,
+Even in a minute : so full of shapes is fancy ,
+That it alone is high fantastical .
+
+Will you go hunt , my lord ?
+
+What , Curio ?
+
+The hart .
+
+Why , so I do , the noblest that I have .
+O ! when mine eyes did see Olivia first ,
+Methought she purg'd the air of pestilence .
+That instant was I turn'd into a hart ,
+And my desires , like fell and cruel hounds ,
+E'er since pursue me .
+
+How now ! what news from her ?
+
+So please my lord , I might not be admitted ;
+But from her handmaid do return this answer :
+The element itself , till seven years' heat ,
+Shall not behold her face at ample view ;
+But , like a cloistress , she will veiled walk ,
+And water once a day her chamber round
+With eve-offending brine : all this , to season
+A brother's dead love , which she would keep fresh
+And lasting in her sad remembrance .
+
+O ! she that hath a heart of that fine frame
+To pay this debt of love but to a brother ,
+How will she love , when the rich golden shaft
+Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else
+That live in her ; when liver , brain , and heart ,
+These sovereign thrones , are all supplied , and fill'd
+Her sweet perfections with one self king .
+Away before me to sweet beds of flowers ;
+Love-thoughts lie rich when canopied with bowers .
+
+
+What country , friends , is this ?
+
+This is Illyria , lady .
+
+And what should I do in Illyria ?
+My brother he is in Elysium .
+Perchance he is not drown'd : what think you sailors ?
+
+It is perchance that you yourself were sav'd .
+
+O my poor brother ! and so perchance may he be .
+
+True , madam : and , to comfort you with chance ,
+Assure yourself , after our ship did split ,
+When you and those poor number sav'd with you
+Hung on our driving boat , I saw your brother ,
+Most provident in peril , bind himself ,
+Courage and hope both teaching him the practice ,
+To a strong mast that liv'd upon the sea ;
+Where , like Arion on the dolphin's back ,
+I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves
+So long as I could see .
+
+For saying so there's gold .
+Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope ,
+Whereto thy speech serves for authority ,
+The like of him . Know'st thou this country ?
+
+Ay , madam , well ; for I was bred and born
+Not three hours' travel from this very place .
+
+Who governs here ?
+
+A noble duke , in nature as in name .
+
+What is his name ?
+
+Orsino .
+
+Orsino ! I have heard my father name him :
+He was a bachelor then .
+
+And so is now , or was so very late ;
+For but a month ago I went from hence ,
+And then 'twas fresh in murmur ,as , you know ,
+What great ones do the less will prattle of ,
+That he did seek the love of fair Olivia .
+
+What's she ?
+
+A virtuous maid , the daughter of a count
+That died some twelvemonth since ; then leaving her
+In the protection of his son , her brother ,
+Who shortly also died : for whose dear love ,
+They say she hath abjur'd the company
+And sight of men .
+
+O ! that I serv'd that lady ,
+And might not be deliver'd to the world ,
+Till I had made mine own occasion mellow ,
+What my estate is .
+
+That were hard to compass ,
+Because she will admit no kind of suit ,
+No , not the duke's .
+
+There is a fair behaviour in thee , captain ;
+And though that nature with a beauteous wall
+Doth oft close in pollution , yet of thee
+I will believe thou hast a mind that suits
+With this thy fair and outward character .
+I prithee ,and I'll pay thee bounteously ,
+Conceal me what I am , and be my aid
+For such disguise as haply shall become
+The form of my intent . I'll serve this duke :
+Thou shalt present me as a eunuch to him :
+It may be worth thy pains ; for I can sing
+And speak to him in many sorts of music
+That will allow me very worth his service .
+What else may hap to time I will commit ;
+Only shape thou thy silence to my wit .
+
+Be you his eunuch , and your mute I'll be :
+When my tongue blabs , then let mine eyes not see .
+
+I thank thee : lead me on .
+
+
+What a plague means my niece , to take the death of her brother thus ? I am sure care's an enemy to life .
+
+By my troth , Sir Toby , you must come in earlier o' nights : your cousin , my lady , takes great exceptions to your ill hours .
+
+Why , let her except before excepted .
+
+Ay , but you must confine yourself within the modest limits of order .
+
+Confine ! I'll confine myself no finer than I am . These clothes are good enough to drink in , and so be these boots too : an they be not , let them hang themselves in their own straps .
+
+That quaffing and drinking will undo you : I heard my lady talk of it yesterday ; and of a foolish knight that you brought in one night here to be her wooer .
+
+Who ? Sir Andrew Aguecheek ?
+
+Ay , he .
+
+He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria .
+
+What's that to the purpose ?
+
+Why , he has three thousand ducats a year .
+
+Ay , but he'll have but a year in all these ducats : he's a very fool and a prodigal .
+
+Fie , that you'll say so ! he plays o' the viol-de-gamboys , and speaks three or four languages word for word without book , and hath all the good gifts of nature .
+
+He hath indeed , almost natural ; for , besides that he's a fool , he's a great quarreller ; and but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he hath in quarrelling , 'tis thought among the prudent he would quickly have the gift of a grave .
+
+By this hand , they are scoundrels and substractors that say so of him . Who are they ?
+
+They that add , moreover , he's drunk nightly in your company .
+
+With drinking healths to my niece . I'll drink to her as long as there is a passage in my throat and drink in Illyria . He's a coward and a coystril , that will not drink to my niece till his brains turn o' the toe like a parish-top . What , wench ! Castiliano vulgo ! for here comes Sir Andrew Agueface .
+
+
+Sir Toby Belch ! how now , Sir Toby Belch !
+
+Sweet Sir Andrew !
+
+Bless you , fair shrew .
+
+And you too , sir .
+
+Accost , Sir Andrew , accost .
+
+What's that ?
+
+My niece's chambermaid .
+
+Good Mistress Accost , I desire better acquaintance .
+
+My name is Mary , sir .
+
+Good Mistress Mary Accost ,
+
+You mistake , knight : 'accost' is , front her , board her , woo her , assail her .
+
+By my troth , I would not undertake her in this company . Is that the meaning of 'accost ?'
+
+Fare you well , gentlemen .
+
+An thou let her part so , Sir Andrew , would thou mightst never draw sword again !
+
+An you part so , mistress , I would I might never draw sword again . Fair lady , do you think you have fools in hand ?
+
+Sir , I have not you by the hand .
+
+Marry , but you shall have ; and here's my hand .
+
+Now , sir , 'thought is free :' I pray you , bring your hand to the buttery-bar and let it drink .
+
+Wherefore , sweetheart ? what's your metaphor ?
+
+It's dry , sir .
+
+Why , I think so : I am not such an ass but I can keep my hand dry . But what's your jest ?
+
+A dry jest , sir .
+
+Are you full of them ?
+
+Ay , sir , I have them at my fingers' ends : marry , now I let go your hand , I am barren .
+
+
+O knight ! thou lackest a cup of canary : when did I see thee so put down ?
+
+Never in your life , I think ; unless you see canary put me down . Methinks sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian or an ordinary man has ; but I am a great eater of beef , and I believe that does harm to my wit .
+
+No question .
+
+An I thought that , I'd forswear it .
+I'll ride home to-morrow , Sir Toby .
+
+Pourquoi , my dear knight ?
+
+What is 'pourquoi ?' do or not do ? I would I had bestowed that time in the tongues that I have in fencing , dancing , and bear-baiting . O ! had I but followed the arts !
+
+Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair .
+
+Why , would that have mended my hair ?
+
+Past question ; for thou seest it will not curl by nature .
+
+But it becomes me well enough , does't not ?
+
+Excellent ; it hangs like flax on a distaff , and I hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs , and spin it off .
+
+Faith , I'll home to-morrow , Sir Toby : your niece will not be seen ; or if she be , it's four to one she'll none of me . The count himself here hard by woos her .
+
+She'll none o' the count ; she'll not match above her degree , neither in estate , years , nor wit ; I have heard her swear it . Tut , there's life in't , man .
+
+I'll stay a month longer . I am a fellow o' the strangest mind i' the world ; I delight in masques and revels sometimes altogether .
+
+Art thou good at these kickchawses , knight ?
+
+As any man in Illyria , whatsoever he be , under the degree of my betters : and yet I will not compare with an old man .
+
+What is thy excellence in a galliard , knight ?
+
+Faith , I can cut a caper .
+
+And I can cut the mutton to't .
+
+And I think I have the back-trick simply as strong as any man in Illyria .
+
+Wherefore are these things hid ? wherefore have these gifts a curtain before 'em ? are they like to take dust , like Mistress Mall's picture ? why dost thou not go to church in a galliard , and come home in a coranto ? My very walk should be a jig : I would not so much as make water but in a sink-a-pace . What dost thou mean ? is it a world to hide virtues in ? I did think , by the excellent constitution of thy leg , it was formed under the star of a galliard .
+
+Ay , 'tis strong , and it does indifferent well in a flame-coloured stock . Shall we set about some revels ?
+
+What shall we do else ? were we not born under Taurus ?
+
+Taurus ! that's sides and heart .
+
+No , sir , it is legs and thighs . Let me see thee caper . Ha ! higher : ha , ha ! excellent !
+
+
+If the duke continue these favours towards you , Cesario , you are like to be much advanced : he hath known you but three days , and already you are no stranger .
+
+You either fear his humour or my negligence , that you call in question the continuance of his love . Is he inconstant , sir , in his favours ?
+
+No , believe me .
+
+I thank you . Here comes the count .
+
+
+Who saw Cesario ? ho !
+
+On your attendance , my lord ; here .
+
+Stand you awhile aloof . Cesario ,
+Thou know'st no less but all ; I have unclasp'd
+To thee the book even of my secret soul :
+Therefore , good youth , address thy gait unto her ,
+Be not denied access , stand at her doors ,
+And tell them , there thy fixed foot shall grow
+Till thou have audience .
+
+Sure , my noble lord ,
+If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow
+As it is spoke , she never will admit me .
+
+Be clamorous and leap all civil bounds
+Rather than make unprofited return .
+
+Say I do speak with her , my lord , what then ?
+
+O ! then unfold the passion of my love ;
+Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith :
+It shall become thee well to act my woes ;
+She will attend it better in thy youth
+Than in a nuncio of more grave aspect .
+
+I think not so , my lord .
+
+Dear lad , believe it ;
+For they shall yet belie thy happy years
+That say thou art a man : Diana's lip
+Is not more smooth and rubious ; thy small pipe
+Is as the maiden's organ , shrill and sound ;
+And all is semblative a woman's part .
+I know thy constellation is right apt
+For this affair . Some four or five attend him ;
+All , if you will ; for I myself am best
+When least in company . Prosper well in this ,
+And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord ,
+To call his fortunes thine .
+
+I'll do my best
+To woo your lady :
+
+yet , a barful strife !
+Whoe'er I woo , myself would be his wife .
+
+
+Nay , either tell me where thou hast been , or I will not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter in way of thy excuse . My lady will hang thee for thy absence .
+
+Let her hang me : he that is well hanged in this world needs to fear no colours .
+
+Make that good .
+
+He shall see none to fear .
+
+A good lenten answer : I can tell thee where that saying was born , of , 'I fear no colours .'
+
+Where , good Mistress Mary ?
+
+In the wars ; and that may you be bold to say in your foolery .
+
+Well , God give them wisdom that have it ; and those that are fools , let them use their talents .
+
+Yet you will be hanged for being so long absent ; or , to be turned away , is not that as good as a hanging to you ?
+
+Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage ; and , for turning away , let summer bear it out .
+
+You are resolute then ?
+
+Not so , neither ; but I am resolved on two points .
+
+That if one break , the other will hold ; or , if both break , your gaskins fall .
+
+Apt , in good faith ; very apt . Well , go thy way : if Sir Toby would leave drinking , thou wert as witty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria .
+
+Peace , you rogue , no more o' that . Here comes my lady : make your excuse wisely , you were best .
+
+
+Wit , an't be thy will , put me into good fooling ! Those wits that think they have thee , do very oft prove fools ; and I , that am sure I lack thee , may pass for a wise man : for what says Quinapalus ? 'Better a witty fool than a foolish wit .'
+
+God bless thee , lady !
+
+Take the fool away .
+
+Do you not hear , fellows ? Take away the lady .
+
+Go to , you're a dry fool ; I'll no more of you : besides , you grow dishonest .
+
+Two faults , madonna , that drink and good counsel will amend : for give the dry fool drink , then is the fool not dry ; bid the dishonest man mend himself : if he mend , he is no longer dishonest ; if he cannot , let the botcher mend him . Any thing that's mended is but patched : virtue that transgresses is but patched with sin ; and sin that amends is but patched with virtue . If that this simple syllogism will serve , so ; if it will not , what remedy ? As there is no true cuckold but calamity , so beauty's a flower . The lady bade take away the fool ; therefore , I say again , take her away .
+
+Sir , I bade them take away you .
+
+Misprision in the highest degree ! Lady , cucullus non facit monachum ; that's as much to say as I wear not motley in my brain . Good madonna , give me leave to prove you a fool .
+
+Can you do it ?
+
+Dexteriously , good madonna .
+
+Make your proof .
+
+I must catechise you for it , madonna : good my mouse of virtue , answer me .
+
+Well , sir , for want of other idleness , I'll bide your proof .
+
+Good madonna , why mournest thou ?
+
+Good fool , for my brother's death .
+
+I think his soul is in hell , madonna .
+
+I know his soul is in heaven , fool .
+
+The more fool , madonna , to mourn for your brother's soul being in heaven . Take away the fool , gentlemen .
+
+What think you of this fool , Malvolio ? doth he not mend ?
+
+Yes ; and shall do , till the pangs of death shake him : infirmity , that decays the wise , doth ever make the better fool .
+
+God send you , sir , a speedy infirmity , for the better increasing your folly ! Sir Toby will be sworn that I am no fox , but he will not pass his word for two pence that you are no fool .
+
+How say you to that , Malvolio ?
+
+I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a barren rascal : I saw him put down the other day with an ordinary fool that has no more brain than a stone . Look you now , he's out of his guard already ; unless you laugh and minister occasion to him , he is gagged . I protest , I take these wise men , that crow so at these set kind of fools , no better than the fools' zanies .
+
+O ! you are sick of self-love , Malvolio , and taste with a distempered appetite . To be generous , guiltless , and of free disposition , is to take those things for bird-bolts that you deem cannon-bullets . There is no slander in an allowed fool , though he do nothing but rail ; nor no railing in a known discreet man , though he do nothing but reprove .
+
+Now , Mercury endue thee with leasing , for thou speakest well of fools !
+
+
+Madam , there is at the gate a young gentleman much desires to speak with you .
+
+From the Count Orsino , is it ?
+
+I know not , madam : 'tis a fair young man , and well attended .
+
+Who of my people hold him in delay ?
+
+Sir Toby , madam , your kinsman .
+
+Fetch him off , I pray you : he speaks nothing but madman . Fie on him !
+
+
+Now you see , sir , how your fooling grows old , and people dislike it .
+
+Thou hast spoken for us , madonna , as if thy eldest son should be a fool ; whose skull Jove cram with brains ! for here comes one of thy kin has a most weak pia mater .
+
+
+By mine honour , half drunk . What is he at the gate , cousin ?
+
+A gentleman .
+
+A gentleman ! what gentleman ?
+
+'Tis a gentleman here ,a plague o' these pickle herring ! How now , sot !
+
+Good Sir Toby .
+
+Cousin , cousin , how have you come so early by this lethargy ?
+
+Lechery ! I defy lechery ! There's one at the gate .
+
+Ay , marry , what is he ?
+
+Let him be the devil , an he will , I care not : give me faith , say I . Well , it's all one .
+
+
+What's a drunken man like , fool ?
+
+Like a drowned man , a fool , and a madman : one draught above heat makes him a fool , the second mads him , and a third drowns him .
+
+Go thou and seek the crowner , and let him sit o' my coz ; for he's in the third degree of drink , he's drowned : go , look after him .
+
+He is but mad yet , madonna ; and the fool shall look to the madman .
+
+Madam , yond young fellow swears he will speak with you . I told him you were sick : he takes on him to understand so much , and therefore comes to speak with you . I told him you were asleep : he seems to have a foreknowledge of that too , and therefore comes to speak with you . What is to be said to him , lady ? he's fortified against any denial .
+
+Tell him he shall not speak with me .
+
+Ha's been told so ; and he says , he'll stand at your door like a sheriff's post , and be the supporter to a bench , but he'll speak with you .
+
+What kind o' man is he ?
+
+Why , of mankind .
+
+What manner of man ?
+
+Of very ill manner : he'll speak with you , will you or no .
+
+Of what personage and years is he ?
+
+Not yet old enough for a man , nor young enough for a boy ; as a squash is before 'tis a peascod , or a codling when 'tis almost an apple : 'tis with him in standing water , between boy and man . He is very well-favoured , and he speaks very shrewishly : one would think his mother's milk were scarce out of him .
+
+Let him approach . Call in my gentlewoman .
+
+Gentlewoman , my lady calls .
+
+Give me my veil : come , throw it o'er my face .
+We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy .
+
+
+The honourable lady of the house , which is she ?
+
+Speak to me ; I shall answer for her .
+Your will ?
+
+Most radiant , exquisite , and unmatchable beauty ,I pray you tell me if this be the lady of the house , for I never saw her : I would be loath to cast away my speech ; for , besides that it is excellently well penned , I have taken great pains to con it . Good beauties , let me sustain no scorn ; I am very comptible , even to the least sinister usage .
+
+Whence came you , sir ?
+
+I can say little more than I have studied , and that question's out of my part . Good gentle one , give me modest assurance if you be the lady of the house , that I may proceed in my speech .
+
+Are you a comedian ?
+
+No , my profound heart ; and yet , by the very fangs of malice I swear I am not that I play . Are you the lady of the house ?
+
+If I do not usurp myself , I am .
+
+Most certain , if you are she , you do usurp yourself ; for , what is yours to bestow is not yours to reserve . But this is from my commission : I will on with my speech in your praise , and then show you the heart of my message .
+
+Come to what is important in't : I forgive you the praise .
+
+Alas ! I took great pains to study it , and 'tis poetical .
+
+It is the more like to be feigned : I pray you keep it in . I heard you were saucy at my gates , and allowed your approach rather to wonder at you than to hear you . If you be not mad , be gone ; if you have reason , be brief : 'tis not that time of moon with me to make one in so skipping a dialogue .
+
+Will you hoist sail , sir ? here lies your way .
+
+No , good swabber ; I am to hull here a little longer . Some mollification for your giant , sweet lady .
+
+Tell me your mind .
+
+I am a messenger .
+
+Sure , you have some hideous matter to deliver , when the courtesy of it is so fearful . Speak your office .
+
+It alone concerns your ear . I bring no overture of war , no taxation of homage : I hold the olive in my hand ; my words are as full of peace as matter .
+
+Yet you began rudely . What are you ? what would you ?
+
+The rudeness that hath appear'd in me have I learn'd from my entertainment . What I am , and what I would , are as secret as maiden-head ; to your ears , divinity ; to any other's , profanation .
+
+Give us the place alone : we will hear this divinity .
+
+Now , sir ; what is your text ?
+
+Most sweet lady ,
+
+A comfortable doctrine , and much may be said of it . Where lies your text ?
+
+In Orsino's bosom .
+
+In his bosom ! In what chapter of his bosom ?
+
+To answer by the method , in the first of his heart .
+
+O ! I have read it : it is heresy . Have you no more to say ?
+
+Good madam , let me see your face .
+
+Have you any commission from your lord to negotiate with my face ? you are now out of your text : but we will draw the curtain and show you the picture .
+
+Look you , sir , such a one I was as this present : is't not well done ?
+
+Excellently done , if God did all .
+
+'Tis in grain , sir ; 'twill endure wind and weather .
+
+'Tis beauty truly blent , whose red and white
+Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on :
+Lady , you are tho cruell'st she alive ,
+If you will lead these graces to the grave
+And leave the world no copy .
+
+O ! sir , I will not be so hard-hearted ; I will give out divers schedules of my beauty : it shall be inventoried , and every particle and utensil labelled to my will : as Item , Two lips , indifferent red ; Item , Two grey eyes , with lids to them ; Item , One neck , one chin , and so forth . Were you sent hither to praise me ?
+
+I see you what you are : you are too proud ;
+But , if you were the devil , you are fair .
+My lord and master loves you : O ! such love
+Could be but recompens'd , though you were crown'd
+The nonpareil of beauty .
+
+How does he love me ?
+
+With adorations , with fertile tears ,
+With groans that thunder love , with sighs of fire .
+
+Your lord does know my mind ; I cannot love him ;
+Yet I suppose him virtuous , know him noble ,
+Of great estate , of fresh and stainless youth ;
+In voices well divulg'd , free , learn'd , and valiant ;
+And , in dimension and the shape of nature
+A gracious person ; but yet I cannot love him :
+He might have took his answer long ago .
+
+If I did love you in my master's flame ,
+With such a suffering , such a deadly life ,
+In your denial I would find no sense ;
+I would not understand it .
+
+Why , what would you ?
+
+Make me a willow cabin at your gate ,
+And call upon my soul within the house ;
+Write loyal cantons of contemned love ,
+And sing them loud even in the dead of night ;
+Holla your name to the reverberate hills ,
+And make the babbling gossip of the air
+Cry out , 'Olivia !' O ! you should not rest
+Between the elements of air and earth ,
+But you should pity me !
+
+You might do much . What is your parentage ?
+
+Above my fortune , yet my state is well :
+I am a gentleman .
+
+Get you to your lord :
+I cannot love him . Let him send no more ,
+Unless , perchance , you come to me again ,
+To tell me how he takes it . Fare you well :
+I thank you for your pains : spend this for me .
+
+I am no fee'd post , lady ; keep your purse :
+My master , not myself , lacks recompense .
+Love make his heart of flint that you shall love ,
+And let your fervour , like my master's , be
+Plac'd in contempt ! Farewell , fair cruelty .
+
+
+'What is your parentage ?'
+'Above my fortunes , yet my state is well :
+I am a gentleman .' I'll be sworn thou art :
+Thy tongue , thy face , thy limbs , actions , and spirit ,
+Do give thee five-fold blazon . Not too fast : soft ! soft !
+Unless the master were the man . How now !
+Even so quickly may one catch the plague ?
+Methinks I feel this youth's perfections
+With an invisible and subtle stealth
+To creep in at mine eyes . Well , let it be .
+What , ho ! Malvolio !
+
+
+Here , madam , at your service .
+
+Run after that same peevish messenger ,
+The county's man : he left this ring behind him ,
+Would I , or not : tell him I'll none of it .
+Desire him not to flatter with his lord ,
+Nor hold him up with hopes : I'm not for him .
+If that the youth will come this way to-morrow ,
+I'll give him reasons for't . Hie thee , Malvolio .
+
+Madam , I will .
+
+
+I do I know not what , and fear to find
+Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind .
+Fate , show thy force : ourselves we do not owe ;
+What is decreed must be , and be this so !
+
+Will you stay no longer ? nor will you not that I go with you ?
+
+By your patience , no . My stars shine darkly over me ; the malignancy of my fate might , perhaps , distemper yours ; therefore I shall crave of you your leave that I may bear my evils alone . It were a bad recompense for your love to lay any of them on you .
+
+Let me yet know of you whither you are bound .
+
+No , sooth , sir : my determinate voyage is mere extravagancy . But I perceive in you so excellent a touch of modesty that you will not extort from me what I am willing to keep in ; therefore , it charges me in manners the rather to express myself . You must know of me then , Antonio , my name is Sebastian , which I called Roderigo . My father was that Sebastian of Messaline , whom I know you have heard of . He left behind him myself and a sister , both born in an hour : if the heavens had been pleased , would we had so ended ! but you , sir , altered that ; for some hour before you took me from the breach of the sea was my sister drowned .
+
+Alas the day !
+
+A lady , sir , though it was said she much resembled me , was yet of many accounted beautiful : but , though I could not with such estimable wonder overfar believe that , yet thus far I will boldly publish her : she bore a mind that envy could not but call fair . She is drowned already , sir , with salt water , though I seem to drown her remembrance again with more .
+
+Pardon me , sir , your bad entertainment .
+
+O good Antonio ! forgive me your trouble !
+
+If you will not murder me for my love , let me be your servant .
+
+If you will not undo what you have done , that is , kill him whom you have recovered , desire it not . Fare ye well at once : my bosom is full of kindness ; and I am yet so near the manners of my mother , that upon the least occasion more mine eyes will tell tales of me . I am bound to the Count Orsino's court : farewell .
+
+
+The gentleness of all the gods go with thee !
+I have many enemies in Orsino's court ,
+Else would I very shortly see thee there ;
+But , come what may , I do adore thee so ,
+That danger shall seem sport , and I will go .
+
+
+Were not you even now with the Countess Olivia ?
+
+Even now , sir : on a moderate pace I have since arrived but hither .
+
+She returns this ring to you , sir : you might have saved me my pains , to have taken it away yourself . She adds , moreover , that you should put your lord into a desperate assurance she will none of him . And one thing more ; that you be never so hardy to come again in his affairs , unless it be to report your lord's taking of this . Receive it so .
+
+She took the ring of me ; I'll none of it .
+
+Come , sir , you peevishly threw it to her ; and her will is it should be so returned : if it be worth stooping for , there it lies in your eye ; if not , be it his that finds it .
+
+
+I left no ring with her : what means this lady ?
+Fortune forbid my outside have not charm'd her !
+She made good view of me ; indeed , so much ,
+That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue ,
+For she did speak in starts distractedly .
+She loves me , sure ; the cunning of her passion
+Invites me in this churlish messenger .
+None of my lord's ring ! why , he sent her none .
+I am the man : if it be so , as 'tis ,
+Poor lady , she were better love a dream .
+Disguise , I see , thou art a wickedness ,
+Wherein the pregnant enemy does much .
+How easy is it for the proper-false
+In women's waxen hearts to set their forms !
+Alas ! our frailty is the cause , not we !
+For such as we are made of , such we be .
+How will this fadge ? My master loves her dearly ;
+And I , poor monster , fond as much on him ;
+And she , mistaken , seems to dote on me .
+What will become of this ? As I am man ,
+My state is desperate for my master's love ;
+As I am woman ,now alas the day !
+What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe !
+O time ! thou must untangle this , not I ;
+It is too hard a knot for me to untie .
+
+
+Approach , Sir Andrew : not to be a-bed after midnight is to be up betimes ; and diluculo surgere , thou knowest ,
+
+Nay , by my troth , I know not ; but I know , to be up late is to be up late .
+
+A false conclusion : I hate it as an unfilled can . To be up after midnight and to go to bed then , is early ; so that to go to bed after midnight is to go to bed betimes . Does not our life consist of the four elements ?
+
+Faith , so they say ; but , I think , it rather consists of eating and drinking .
+
+Thou art a scholar ; let us therefore eat and drink . Marian , I say ! a stoup of wine !
+
+
+Here comes the fool , i' faith .
+
+How now , my hearts ! Did you never see the picture of 'we three ?'
+
+Welcome , ass . Now let's have a catch .
+
+By my troth , the fool has an excellent breast . I had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg , and so sweet a breath to sing , as the fool has . In sooth , thou wast in very gracious fooling last night , when thou spokest of Pigrogromitus , of the Vapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus : 'twas very good , i' faith . I sent thee sixpence for thy leman : hadst it ?
+
+I did impeticos thy gratillity ; for Malvolio's nose is no whipstock : my lady has a white hand , and the Myrmidons are no bottleale houses .
+
+Excellent ! Why , this is the best fooling , when all is done . Now , a song .
+
+Come on ; there is sixpence for you : let's have a song .
+
+There's a testril of me too : if one knight give a
+
+Would you have a love-song , or a song of good life ?
+
+A love-song , a love-song .
+
+Ay , ay ; I care not for good life .
+
+
+O mistress mine ! where are you roaming ?
+O ! stay and hear ; your true love's coming ,
+That can sing both high and low .
+Trip no further , pretty sweeting ;
+Journeys end in lovers meeting ,
+Every wise man's son doth know .
+
+
+Excellent good , i' faith .
+
+Good , good .
+
+
+What is love ? 'tis not hereafter ;
+Present mirth hath present laughter ;
+What's to come is still unsure :
+In delay there lies no plenty ;
+Then come kiss me , sweet and twenty ,
+Youth's a stuff will not endure .
+
+
+A mellifluous voice , as I am true knight .
+
+A contagious breath .
+
+Very sweet and contagious , i' faith .
+
+To hear by the nose , it is dulcet in contagion . But shall we make the welkin dance indeed ? Shall we rouse the night-owl in a catch that will draw three souls out of one weaver ? shall we do that ?
+
+An you love me , let's do't : I am dog at a catch .
+
+By'r lady , sir , and some dogs will catch well .
+
+Most certain . Let our catch be , 'Thou knave .'
+
+Hold thy peace , thou knave ,' knight ? I shall be constrain'd in't to call thee knave , knight .
+
+'Tis not the first time I have constrained one to call me knave . Begin , fool : it begins , 'Hold thy peace .'
+
+I shall never begin if I hold my peace .
+
+Good , i' faith . Come , begin .
+
+What a caterwauling do you keep here ! If my lady have not called up her steward Malvolio and bid him turn you out of doors , never trust me .
+
+My lady's a Cataian ; we are politicians ; Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsey , and 'Three merry men be we .' Am not I consanguineous ? am I not of her blood ? Tillyvally , lady !
+There dwelt a man in Babylon , lady , lady !
+
+Beshrew me , the knight's in admirable fooling .
+
+Ay , he does well enough if he be disposed , and so do I too : he does it with a better grace , but I do it more natural .
+
+O ! the twelfth day of December ,
+
+For the love o' God , peace !
+
+
+My masters , are you mad ? or what are you ? Have you no wit , manners , nor honesty , but to gabble like tinkers at this time of night ? Do ye make an alehouse of my lady's house , that ye squeak out your coziers' catches without any mitigation or remorse of voice ? Is there no respect of place , persons , nor time , in you ?
+
+We did keep time , sir , in our catches . Sneck up !
+
+Sir Toby , I must be round with you . My lady bade me tell you , that , though she harbours you as her kinsman , she's nothing allied to your disorders . If you can separate yourself and your misdemeanours , you are welcome to the house ; if not , an it would please you to take leave of her , she is very willing to bid you farewell .
+
+Farewell , dear heart , since I must needs be gone .
+
+Nay , good Sir Toby .
+
+His eyes do show his days are almost done .
+
+Is't even so ?
+
+But I will never die .
+
+Sir Toby , there you lie .
+
+This is much credit to you .
+
+Shall I bid him go ?
+
+What an if you do ?
+
+Shall I bid him go , and spare not ?
+
+O ! no , no , no , no , you dare not .
+
+'Out o' time !' Sir , ye lie . Art any more than a steward ? Dost thou think , because thou art virtuous , there shall be no more cakes and ale ?
+
+Yes , by Saint Anne ; and ginger shall be hot i' the mouth too .
+
+Thou'rt i' the right . Go , sir , rub your chain with crumbs . A stoup of wine , Maria !
+
+Mistress Mary , if you prized my lady's favour at anything more than contempt , you would not give means for this uncivil rule : she shall know of it , by this hand .
+
+
+Go shake your ears .
+
+'Twere as good a deed as to drink when a man's a-hungry , to challenge him the field , and then to break promise with him and make a fool of him .
+
+Do't , knight : I'll write thee a challenge ; or I'll deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth .
+
+Sweet Sir Toby , be patient for to-night : since the youth of the count's was to-day with my lady , she is much out of quiet . For Monsieur Malvolio , let me alone with him : if I do not gull him into a nayword , and make him a common recreation , do not think I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed . I know I can do it .
+
+Possess us , possess us ; tell us something of him .
+
+Marry , sir , sometimes he is a kind of puritan .
+
+O ! if I thought that , I'd beat him like a dog .
+
+What , for being a puritan ? thy exquisite reason , dear knight ?
+
+I have no exquisite reason for't , but I have reason good enough .
+
+The devil a puritan that he is , or anything constantly but a time-pleaser ; an affectioned ass , that cons state without book , and utters it by great swarths : the best persuaded of himself ; so crammed , as he thinks , with excellences , that it is his ground of faith that all that look on him love him ; and on that vice in him will my revenge find notable cause to work .
+
+What wilt thou do ?
+
+I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of love ; wherein , by the colour of his beard , the shape of his leg , the manner of his gait , the expressure of his eye , forehead , and complexion , he shall find himself most feelingly personated . I can write very like my lady your niece ; on a forgotten matter we can hardly make distinction of our hands .
+
+Excellent ! I smell a device .
+
+I have't in my nose too .
+
+He shall think , by the letters that thou wilt drop , that they come from my niece , and that she is in love with him .
+
+My purpose is , indeed , a horse of that colour .
+
+And your horse now would make him an ass .
+
+Ass , I doubt not .
+
+O ! 'twill be admirable .
+
+Sport royal , I warrant you : I know my physic will work with him . I will plant you two , and let the fool make a third , where he shall find the letter : observe his construction of it . For this night , to bed , and dream on the event . Farewell .
+
+
+Good night , Penthesilea .
+
+Before me , she's a good wench .
+
+She's a beagle , true-bred , and one that adores me : what o' that ?
+
+I was adored once too .
+
+Let's to bed , knight . Thou hadst need send for more money .
+
+If I cannot recover your niece , I am a foul way out .
+
+Send for money , knight : if thou hast her not i' the end , call me cut .
+
+If I do not , never trust me , take it how you will .
+
+Come , come : I'll go burn some sack ; 'tis too late to go to bed now . Come , knight ; come , knight .
+
+
+Give me some music . Now , good morrow , friends :
+Now , good Cesario , but that piece of song ,
+That old and antique song we heard last night ;
+Methought it did relieve my passion much ,
+More than light airs and recollected terms
+Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times :
+Come ; but one verse .
+
+He is not here , so please your lordship , that should sing it .
+
+Who was it ?
+
+Feste , the jester , my lord ; a fool that the Lady Olivia's father took much delight in . He is about the house .
+
+Seek him out , and play the tune the while .
+
+Come hither , boy : if ever thou shalt love ,
+In the sweet pangs of it remember me ;
+For such as I am all true lovers are :
+Unstaid and skittish in all motions else
+Save in the constant image of the creature
+That is belov'd . How dost thou like this tune ?
+
+It gives a very echo to the seat
+Where love is thron'd .
+
+Thou dost speak masterly .
+My life upon't , young though thou art , thine eye
+Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves ;
+Hath it not , boy ?
+
+A little , by your favour .
+
+What kind of woman is't ?
+
+Of your complexion .
+
+She is not worth thee , then . What years , i' faith ?
+
+About your years , my lord .
+
+Too old , by heaven . Let still the woman take
+An elder than herself , so wears she to him ,
+So sways she level in her husband's heart :
+For , boy , however we do praise ourselves ,
+Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm ,
+More longing , wavering , sooner lost and worn ,
+Than women's are .
+
+I think it well , my lord .
+
+Then , let thy love be younger than thyself ,
+Or thy affection cannot hold the bent ;
+For women are as roses , whose fair flower
+Being once display'd , doth fall that very hour .
+
+And so they are : alas , that they are so ;
+To die , even when they to perfection grow !
+
+
+O , fellow ! come , the song we had last night .
+Mark it , Cesario ; it is old and plain ;
+The spinsters and the knitters in the sun ,
+And the free maids that weave their thread with bones ,
+Do use to chant it : it is silly sooth ,
+And dallies with the innocence of love ,
+Like the old age .
+
+Are you ready , sir ?
+
+Ay ; prithee , sing .
+
+
+Come away , come away , death ,
+And in sad cypress let me be laid ;
+Fly away , fly away , breath ;
+I am slain by a fair cruel maid .
+My shroud of white , stuck all with yew ,
+O ! prepare it
+My part of death , no one so true
+Did share it .
+
+
+Not a flower , not a flower sweet ,
+On my black coffin let there be strown ,
+Not a friend , not a friend greet
+My poor corse , where my bones shall be thrown .
+A thousand thousand sighs to save ,
+Lay me , O ! where
+Sad true lover never find my grave ,
+To weep there .
+
+
+There's for thy pains .
+
+No pains , sir ; I take pleasure in singing , sir .
+
+I'll pay thy pleasure then .
+
+Truly , sir , and pleasure will be paid , one time or another .
+
+Give me now leave to leave thee .
+
+Now , the melancholy god protect thee , and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta , for thy mind is a very opal ! I would have men of such constancy put to sea , that their business might be everything and their intent everywhere ; for that's it that always makes a good voyage of nothing . Farewell .
+
+
+Let all the rest give place .
+
+Once more , Cesario ,
+Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty :
+Tell her , my love , more noble than the world ,
+Prizes not quantity of dirty lands ;
+The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her ,
+Tell her , I hold as giddily as fortune ;
+But 'tis that miracle and queen of gems
+That nature pranks her in attracts my soul .
+
+But if she cannot love you , sir ?
+
+I cannot be so answer'd .
+
+Sooth , but you must .
+Say that some lady , as perhaps , there is ,
+Hath for your love as great a pang of heart
+As you have for Olivia : you cannot love her ;
+You tell her so ; must she not then be answer'd ?
+
+There is no woman's sides
+Can bide the beating of so strong a passion
+As love doth give my heart ; no woman's heart
+So big , to hold so much ; they lack retention .
+Alas ! their love may be call'd appetite ,
+No motion of the liver , but the palate ,
+That suffer surfeit , cloyment , and revolt ;
+But mine is all as hungry as the sea ,
+And can digest as much . Make no compare
+Between that love a woman can bear me
+And that I owe Olivia .
+
+Ay , but I know ,
+
+What dost thou know ?
+
+Too well what love women to men may owe :
+In faith , they are as true of heart as we .
+My father had a daughter lov'd a man ,
+As it might be , perhaps , were I a woman ,
+I should your lordship .
+
+And what's her history ?
+
+A blank , my lord . She never told her love ,
+But let concealment , like a worm i' the bud ,
+Feed on her damask cheek : she pin'd in thought ,
+And with a green and yellow melancholy ,
+She sat like Patience on a monument ,
+Smiling at grief . Was not this love indeed ?
+We men may say more , swear more ; but indeed
+Our shows are more than will , for still we prove
+Much in our vows , but little in our love .
+
+But died thy sister of her love , my boy ?
+
+I am all the daughters of my father's house ,
+And all the brothers too ; and yet I know not .
+Sir , shall I to this lady ?
+
+Ay , that's the theme .
+To her in haste ; give her this jewel ; say
+My love can give no place , bide no denay .
+
+
+Come thy ways , Signior Fabian .
+
+Nay , I'll come : if I lose a scruple of this sport , let me be boiled to death with melancholy .
+
+Wouldst thou not be glad to have the niggardly rascally sheep-biter come by some notable shame ?
+
+I would exult , man : you know he brought me out o' favour with my lady about a bear-baiting here .
+
+To anger him we'll have the bear again ; and we will fool him black and blue ; shall we not , Sir Andrew ?
+
+An we do not , it is pity of our lives .
+
+Here comes the little villain .
+
+How now , my metal of India !
+
+Get ye all three into the box-tree . Malvolio's coming down this walk : he has been yonder i' the sun practising behaviour to his own shadow this half-hour . Observe him , for the love of mockery ; for I know this letter will make a contemplative idiot of him . Close , in the name of jesting ! Lie thou there :
+
+for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling .
+
+'Tis but fortune ; all is fortune . Maria once told me she did affect me ; and I have heard herself come thus near , that should she fancy , it should be one of my complexion . Besides , she uses me with a more exalted respect than anyone else that follows her . What should I think on't ?
+
+Here's an over-weening rogue !
+
+O , peace ! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock of him : how he jets under his advanced plumes !
+
+'Slight , I could so beat the rogue !
+
+Peace ! I say .
+
+To be Count Malvolio !
+
+Ah , rogue !
+
+Pistol him , pistol him .
+
+Peace ! peace !
+
+There is example for't : the lady of the Strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe .
+
+Fie on him , Jezebel !
+
+O , peace ! now he's deeply in ; look how imagination blows him .
+
+Having been three months married to her , sitting in my state ,
+
+O ! for a stone-bow , to hit him in the eye !
+
+Calling my officers about me , in my branched velvet gown ; having come from a daybed , where I have left Olivia sleeping ,
+
+Fire and brimstone !
+
+O , peace ! peace !
+
+And then to have the humour of state : and after a demure travel of regard , telling them I know my place , as I would they should do theirs , to ask for my kinsman Toby ,
+
+Bolts and shackles !
+
+O , peace , peace , peace ! now , now .
+
+Seven of my people , with an obedient start , make out for him . I frown the while ; and perchance wind up my watch , or play with my some rich jewel . Toby approaches ; curtsies there to me ,
+
+Shall this fellow live ?
+
+Though our silence be drawn from us with cars , yet peace !
+
+I extend my hand to him thus , quenching my familiar smile with an austere regard of control ,
+
+And does not Toby take you a blow o' the lips then ?
+
+Saying , 'Cousin Toby , my fortunes having cast me on your niece give me this prerogative of speech ,'
+
+What , what ?
+
+'You must amend your drunkenness .'
+
+Out , scab !
+
+Nay , patience , or we break the sinews of our plot .
+
+'Besides , you waste the treasure of your time with a foolish knight ,'
+
+That's me , I warrant you .
+
+'One Sir Andrew ,'
+
+I knew 'twas I ; for many do call me fool .
+
+What employment have we here ?
+
+Now is the woodcock near the gin .
+
+O , peace ! and the spirit of humours intimate reading aloud to him !
+
+By my life , this is my lady's hand ! these be her very C's , her U's , and her T's ; and thus makes she her great P's . It is , in contempt of question , her hand .
+
+Her C's , her U's , and her T's : why that
+
+To the unknown beloved , this and my good wishes : her very phrases ! By your leave , wax . Soft ! and the impressure her Lucrece , with which she uses to seal : 'tis my lady . To whom should this be ?
+
+This wins him , liver and all .
+
+
+Jove knows I love ;
+But who ?
+Lips , do not move
+No man must know .
+
+'No man must know .' What follows ? the numbers altered ! 'No man must know :' if this should be thee , Malvolio !
+
+Marry , hang thee , brock !
+
+
+I may command where I adore ;
+But silence , like a Lucrece knife ,
+With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore :
+M , O , A , I , doth sway my life .
+
+
+A fustian riddle !
+
+Excellent wench , say I .
+
+'M , O , A , I , doth sway my life .' Nay , but first , let me see , let me see , let me see .
+
+What dish o' poison has she dressed him !
+
+And with what wing the staniel checks at it !
+
+'I may command where I adore .' Why , she may command me : I serve her ; she is my lady . Why , this is evident to any formal capacity ; there is no obstruction in this . And the end , what should that alphabetical position portend ? if I could make that resemble something in me ,Softly !M , O , A , I ,
+
+O ! ay , make up that : he is now at a cold scent .
+
+Sowter will cry upon 't , for all this , though it be as rank as a fox .
+
+M , Malvolio ; M , why , that begins my name .
+
+Did not I say he would work it out ? the cur is excellent at faults .
+
+M ,But then there is no consonancy in the sequel ; that suffers under probation : A should follow , but O does .
+
+And O shall end , I hope .
+
+Ay , or I'll cudgel him , and make him cry , O !
+
+And then I comes behind .
+
+Ay , an you had any eye behind you , you might see more detraction at your heels than fortunes before you .
+
+M , O , A , I ; this simulation is not as the former ; and yet , to crush this a little , it would bow to me , for every one of these letters are in my name . Soft ! here follows prose .
+
+If this fall into thy hand , revolve . In my stars I am above thee ; but be not afraid of greatness : some are born great , some achieve greatness , and some have greatness thrust upon them . Thy Fates open their hands ; let thy blood and spirit embrace them ; and to inure thyself to what thou art like to be , cast thy humble slough , and appear fresh . Be opposite with a kinsman , surly with servants ; let thy tongue tang arguments of state ; put thyself into the trick of singularity She thus advises thee that sighs for thee . Remember who commended thy yellow stockings , and wished to see thee ever cross-gartered : I say , remember . Go to , thou art made , if thou desirest to be so ; if not , let me see thee a steward still , the fellow of servants , and not worthy to touch Fortune's fingers . Farewell . She that would alter services with thee . THE FORTUNATE-UNHAPPY .
+
+Daylight and champian discovers not more : this is open . I will be proud , I will read politic authors , I will baffle Sir Toby , I will wash off gross acquaintance , I will be point-devise the very man . I do not now fool myself , to let imagination jade me , for every reason excites to this , that my lady loves me . She did commend my yellow stockings of late , she did praise my leg being cross-gartered ; and in this she manifests herself to my love , and , with a kind of injunction drives me to these habits of her liking . I thank my stars I am happy . I will be strange , stout , in yellow stockings , and cross-gartered , even with the swiftness of putting on . Jove and my stars be praised ! Here is yet a postscript .
+
+Thou canst not choose but know who I am . If thou entertainest my love , let it appear in thy smiling ; thy smiles become thee well ; therefore in my presence still smile , dear my sweet , I prithee .
+
+Jove , I thank thee . I will smile : I will do everything that thou wilt have me .
+
+
+I will not give my part of this sport for a pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy .
+
+I could marry this wench for this device .
+
+So could I too .
+
+And ask no other dowry with her but such another jest .
+
+Nor I neither .
+
+Here comes my noble gull-catcher .
+
+
+Wilt thou set thy foot o' my neck ?
+
+Or o' mine either ?
+
+Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip , and become thy bond-slave ?
+
+I' faith , or I either ?
+
+Why , thou hast put him in such a dream , that when the image of it leaves him he must run mad .
+
+Nay , but say true ; does it work upon him ?
+
+Like aqua-vit with a midwife .
+
+If you will , then see the fruits of the sport , mark his first approach before my lady ; he will come to her in yellow stockings , and 'tis a colour she abhors ; and cross-gartered , a fashion she detests ; and he will smile upon her , which will now be so unsuitable to her disposition , being addicted to a melancholy as she is , that it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt . If you will see it , follow me .
+
+To the gates of Tartar , thou most excellent devil of wit !
+
+I'll make one too .
+
+Save thee , friend , and thy music . Dost thou live by thy tabor ?
+
+No , sir , I live by the church .
+
+Art thou a churchman ?
+
+No such matter , sir : I do live by the church ; for I do live at my house , and my house doth stand by the church .
+
+So thou mayst say , the king lies by a beggar , if a beggar dwell near him ; or , the church stands by thy tabor , if thy tabor stand by the church .
+
+You have said , sir . To see this age !
+A sentence is but a cheveril glove to a good wit : how quickly the wrong side may be turned outward !
+
+Nay , that's certain : they that dally nicely with words may quickly make them wanton .
+
+I would therefore my sister had had no name , sir .
+
+Why , man ?
+
+Why , sir , her name's a word ; and to dally with that word might make my sister wanton . But indeed , words are very rascals since bonds disgraced them .
+
+Thy reason , man ?
+
+Troth , sir , I can yield you none without words ; and words are grown so false , I am loath to prove reason with them .
+
+I warrant thou art a merry fellow , and carest for nothing .
+
+Not so , sir , I do care for something ; but in my conscience , sir , I do not care for you : if that be to care for nothing , sir , I would it would make you invisible .
+
+Art not thou the Lady Olivia's fool ?
+
+No , indeed , sir ; the Lady Olivia has no folly : she will keep no fool , sir , till she be married ; and fools are as like husbands as pilchards are to herrings the husband's the bigger . I am indeed not her fool , but her corrupter of words .
+
+I saw thee late at the Count Orsino's .
+
+Foolery , sir , does walk about the orb like the sun ; it shines every where . I would be sorry , sir , but the fool should be as oft with your master as with my mistress . I think I saw your wisdom there .
+
+Nay , an thou pass upon me , I'll no more with thee . Hold , there's sixpence for thee .
+
+
+Now Jove , in his next commodity of hair , send thee a beard !
+
+By my troth , I'll tell thee , I am almost sick for one , though I would not have it grow on my chin . Is thy lady within ?
+
+Would not a pair of these have bred , sir ?
+
+Yes , being kept together and put to use .
+
+I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia , sir , to bring a Cressida to this Troilus .
+
+I understand you , sir ; 'tis well begg'd .
+
+The matter , I hope , is not great , sir , begging but a beggar : Cressida was a beggar . My lady is within , sir . I will conster to them whence you come ; who you are and what you would are out of my welkin ; I might say 'element ,' but the word is overworn .
+
+
+This fellow's wise enough to play the fool ,
+And to do that well craves a kind of wit :
+He must observe their mood on whom he jests ,
+The quality of persons , and the time ,
+And , like the haggard , check at every feather
+That comes before his eye . This is a practice
+As full of labour as a wise man's art ;
+For folly that he wisely shows is fit ;
+But wise men folly-fall'n , quite taint their wit .
+
+
+Save you , gentleman .
+
+And you , sir .
+
+Dieu vous garde , monsieur .
+
+Et vous aussi ; votre serviteur .
+
+I hope , sir , you are ; and I am yours .
+
+Will you encounter the house ? my niece is desirous you should enter , if your trade be to her .
+
+I am bound to your niece , sir : I mean , she is the list of my voyage .
+
+Taste your legs , sir : put them to motion .
+
+My legs do better understand me , sir , than I understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs .
+
+I mean , to go , sir , to enter .
+
+I will answer you with gait and entrance . But we are prevented .
+
+Most excellent accomplished lady , the heavens rain odours on you !
+
+That youth's a rare courtier . 'Rain odours !' well .
+
+My matter hath no voice , lady , but to your own most pregnant and vouchsafed ear .
+
+'Odours ,' 'pregnant ,' and 'vouchsafed .' I'll get 'em all three all ready .
+
+Let the garden door be shut , and leave me to my hearing .
+
+Give me your hand , sir .
+
+My duty , madam , and most humble service .
+
+What is your name ?
+
+Cesario is your servant's name , fair princess .
+
+My servant , sir ! 'Twas never merry world
+Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment .
+You're servant to the Count Orsino , youth .
+
+And he is yours , and his must needs be yours :
+Your servant's servant is your servant , madam .
+
+For him , I think not on him : for his thoughts ,
+Would they were blanks rather than fill'd with me !
+
+Madam , I come to whet your gentle thoughts
+On his behalf .
+
+O ! by your leave , I pray you ,
+I bade you never speak again of him :
+But , would you undertake another suit ,
+I had rather hear you to solicit that
+Than music from the spheres .
+
+Dear lady ,
+
+Give me leave , beseech you . I did send ,
+After the last enchantment you did here ,
+A ring in chase of you : so did I abuse
+Myself , my servant , and , I fear me , you :
+Under your hard construction must I sit ,
+To force that on you , in a shameful cunning ,
+Which you knew none of yours : what might you think ?
+Have you not set mine honour at the stake ,
+And baited it with all th' unmuzzled thoughts
+That tyrannous heart can think ? To one of your receiving
+Enough is shown ; a cypress , not a bosom ,
+Hideth my heart . So , let me hear you speak .
+
+I pity you .
+
+That's a degree to love .
+
+No , not a grize ; for 'tis a vulgar proof
+That very oft we pity enemies .
+
+Why , then methinks 'tis time to smile again .
+O world ! how apt the poor are to be proud .
+If one should be a prey , how much the better
+To fall before the lion than the wolf !
+
+The clock upbraids me with the waste of time .
+Be not afraid , good youth , I will not have you :
+And yet , when wit and youth is come to harvest ,
+Your wife is like to reap a proper man :
+There lies your way , due west .
+
+Then westward-ho !
+Grace and good disposition attend your ladyship !
+You'll nothing , madam , to my lord by me ?
+
+Stay :
+I prithee , tell me what thou think'st of me .
+
+That you do think you are not what you are .
+
+If I think so , I think the same of you .
+
+Then think you right : I am not what I am .
+
+I would you were as I would have you be !
+
+Would it be better , madam , than I am ?
+I wish it might , for now I am your fool .
+
+O ! what a deal of scorn looks beautiful
+In the contempt and anger of his lip .
+A murderous guilt shows not itself more soon
+Than love that would seem hid ; love's night is noon .
+Cesario , by the roses of the spring ,
+By maidhood , honour , truth , and every thing ,
+I love thee so , that , maugre all thy pride ,
+Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide .
+Do not extort thy reasons from this clause ,
+For that I woo , thou therefore hast no cause ;
+But rather reason thus with reason fetter ,
+Love sought is good , but giv'n unsought is better .
+
+By innocence I swear , and by my youth ,
+I have one heart , one bosom , and one truth ,
+And that no woman has ; nor never none
+Shall mistress be of it , save I alone .
+And so adieu , good madam : never more
+Will I my master's tears to you deplore .
+
+Yet come again , for thou perhaps mayst move
+That heart , which now abhors , to like his love .
+
+
+No , faith , I'll not stay a jot longer .
+
+Thy reason , dear venom ; give thy reason .
+
+You must needs yield your reason , Sir Andrew .
+
+Marry , I saw your niece do more favours to the count's serving-man than ever she bestowed upon me ; I saw't i' the orchard .
+
+Did she see thee the while , old boy ? tell me that .
+
+As plain as I see you now .
+
+This was a great argument of love in her toward you .
+
+'Slight ! will you make an ass o' me ?
+
+I will prove it legitimate , sir , upon the oaths of judgment and reason .
+
+And they have been grand-jurymen since before Noah was a sailor .
+
+She did show favour to the youth in your sight only to exasperate you , to awake your dormouse valour , to put fire in your heart , and brimstone in your liver . You should then have accosted her , and with some excellent jests , firenew from the mint , you should have banged the youth into dumbness . This was looked for at your hand , and this was balked : the double gilt of this opportunity you let time wash off , and you are now sailed into the north of my lady's opinion ; where you will hang like an icicle on a Dutchman's beard , unless you do redeem it by some laudable attempt , either of valour or policy .
+
+An't be any way , it must be with valour , for policy I hate : I had as lief be a Brownist as a politician .
+
+Why , then , build me thy fortunes upon the basis of valour : challenge me the count's youth to fight with him ; hurt him in eleven places : my niece shall take note of it ; and assure thyself , there is no love-broker in the world can more prevail in man's commendation with woman than report of valour .
+
+There is no way but this , Sir Andrew .
+
+Will either of you bear me a challenge to him ?
+
+Go , write it in a martial hand ; be curst and brief ; it is no matter how witty , so it be eloquent , and full of invention : taunt him with the licence of ink : if thou thou'st him some thrice , it shall not be amiss ; and as many lies as will lie in thy sheet of paper , although the sheet were big enough for the bed of Ware in England , set 'em down : go , about it . Let there be gall enough in thy ink , though thou write with a goose-pen , no matter : about it .
+
+Where shall I find you ?
+
+We'll call thee at the cubiculo : go .
+
+
+This is a dear manakin to you , Sir Toby .
+
+I have been dear to him , lad , some two thousand strong , or so .
+
+We shall have a rare letter from him ; but you'll not deliver it .
+
+Never trust me , then ; and by all means stir on the youth to an answer . I think oxen and wainropes cannot hale them together . For Andrew , if he were opened , and you find so much blood in his liver as will clog the foot of a flea , I'll eat the rest of the anatomy .
+
+And his opposite , the youth , bears in his visage no great presage of cruelty .
+
+Look , where the youngest wren of nine comes .
+
+
+If you desire the spleen , and will laugh yourselves into stitches , follow me . Yond gull Malvolio is turned heathen , a very renegado ; for there is no Christian , that means to be saved by believing rightly , can ever believe such impossible passages of grossness . He's in yellow stockings .
+
+And cross-gartered ?
+
+Most villanously ; like a pedant that keeps a school i' the church . I have dogged him like his murderer . He does obey every point of the letter that I dropped to betray him : he does smile his face into more lines than are in the new map with the augmentation of the Indies . You have not seen such a thing as 'tis ; I can hardly forbear hurling things at him . I know my lady will strike him : if she do , he'll smile and take't for a great favour .
+
+Come , bring us , bring us where he is .
+
+
+I would not by my will have troubled you ;
+But since you make your pleasure of your pains ,
+I will no further chide you .
+
+I could not stay behind you : my desire ,
+More sharp than filed steel , did spur me forth ;
+And not all love to see you ,though so much
+As might have drawn one to a longer voyage ,
+But jealousy what might befall your travel ,
+Being skilless in these parts ; which to a stranger ,
+Unguided and unfriended , often prove
+Rough and unhospitable : my willing love ,
+The rather by these arguments of fear ,
+Set forth in your pursuit .
+
+My kind Antonio ,
+I can no other answer make but thanks ,
+And thanks , and ever thanks ; for oft good turns
+Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay :
+But , were my worth , as is my conscience , firm ,
+You should find better dealing . What's to do ?
+Shall we go see the reliques of this town ?
+
+To-morrow , sir : best first go see your lodging .
+
+I am not weary , and 'tis long to night :
+I pray you , let us satisfy our eyes
+With the memorials and the things of fame
+That do renown this city .
+
+Would you'd pardon me ;
+I do not without danger walk these streets :
+Once , in a sea-fight 'gainst the Count his galleys ,
+I did some service ; of such note indeed ,
+That were I ta'en here it would scarce be answer'd .
+
+Belike you slew great number of his people ?
+
+The offence is not of such a bloody nature ,
+Albeit the quality of the time and quarrel
+Might well have given us bloody argument .
+It might have since been answer'd in repaying
+What we took from them ; which , for traffic's sake ,
+Most of our city did : only myself stood out ;
+For which , if I be lapsed in this place ,
+I shall pay dear .
+
+Do not then walk too open .
+
+It doth not fit me . Hold , sir ; here's my purse .
+In the south suburbs , at the Elephant ,
+Is best to lodge : I will bespeak our diet ,
+Whiles you beguile the time and feed your knowledge
+With viewing of the town : there shall you have me .
+
+Why I your purse ?
+
+Haply your eye shall light upon some toy
+You have desire to purchase ; and your store ,
+I think , is not for idle markets , sir .
+
+I'll be your purse-bearer and leave you for an hour .
+
+To the Elephant .
+
+I do remember .
+
+
+I have sent after him : he says he'll come ;
+How shall I feast him ? what bestow of him ?
+For youth is bought more oft than begg'd or borrow'd .
+I speak too loud .
+Where is Malvolio ? he is sad , and civil ,
+And suits well for a servant with my fortunes :
+Where is Malvolio ?
+
+He's coming , madam ; but in very strange manner . He is sure possess'd , madam .
+
+Why , what's the matter ? does he rave ?
+
+No , madam ; he does nothing but smile : your ladyship were best to have some guard about you if he come , for sure the man is tainted in's wits .
+
+Go call him hither .
+
+I am as mad as he ,
+If sad and merry madness equal be .
+
+How now , Malvolio !
+
+Sweet lady , ho , ho .
+
+Smil'st thou ?
+I sent for thee upon a sad occasion .
+
+Sad , lady ! I could be sad : this does make some obstruction in the blood , this crossgartering ; but what of that ? if it please the eye of one , it is with me as the very true sonnet is , 'Please one and please all .'
+
+Why , how dost thou , man ? what is the matter with thee ?
+
+Not black in my mind , though yellow in my legs . It did come to his hands , and commands shall be executed : I think we do know the sweet Roman hand .
+
+Wilt thou go to bed , Malvolio ?
+
+To bed ! ay , sweetheart ; and I'll come to thee .
+
+God comfort thee ! Why dost thou smile so and kiss thy hand so oft ?
+
+How do you , Malvolio ?
+
+At your request ! Yes ; nightingales answer daws .
+
+Why appear you with this ridiculous boldness before my lady ?
+
+'Be not afraid of greatness :' 'Twas well writ .
+
+What meanest thou by that , Malvolio ?
+
+'Some are born great ,'
+
+Ha !
+
+'Some achieve greatness ,'
+
+What sayst thou ?
+
+'And some have greatness thrust upon them .'
+
+Heaven restore thee !
+
+'Remember who commended thy yellow stockings ,'
+
+Thy yellow stockings !
+
+'And wished to see thee cross-gartered .'
+
+Cross-gartered !
+
+'Go to , thou art made , if thou desirest to be so ,'
+
+Am I made ?
+
+'If not , let me see thee a servant still .'
+
+Why , this is very midsummer madness .
+
+
+Madam , the young gentleman of the Count Orsino's is returned . I could hardly entreat him back : he attends your ladyship's pleasure .
+
+I'll come to him .
+
+Good Maria , let this fellow be looked to . Where's my cousin Toby ? Let some of my people have a special care of him : I would not have him miscarry for the half of my dowry .
+
+
+Oh , ho ! do you come near me now ? no worse man than Sir Toby to look to me ! This concurs directly with the letter : she sends him on purpose , that I may appear stubborn to him ; for she incites me to that in the letter . 'Cast thy humble slough ,' says she ; 'be opposite with a kinsman , surly with servants ; let thy tongue tang with arguments of state ; put thyself into the trick of singularity ;' and consequently sets down the manner how ; as , a sad face , a reverend carriage , a slow tongue , in the habit of some sir of note , and so forth . I have limed her ; but it is Jove's doing , and Jove make me thankful ! And when she went away now , 'Let this fellow be looked to ;' fellow ! not Malvolio , nor after my degree , but fellow . Why , everything adheres together , that no dram of a scruple , no scruple of a scruple , no obstacle , no incredulous or unsafe circumstance What can be said ? Nothing that can be can come between me and the full prospect of my hopes . Well , Jove , not I , is the doer of this , and he is to be thanked .
+
+
+Which way is he , in the name of sanctity ? If all the devils in hell be drawn in little , and Legion himself possess'd him , yet I'll speak to him .
+
+Here he is , here he is . How is't with you , sir ? how is't with you , man ?
+
+Go off ; I discard you : let me enjoy my private ; go off .
+
+Lo , how hollow the fiend speaks within him ! did not I tell you ? Sir Toby , my lady prays you to have a care of him .
+
+Ah , ha ! does she so ?
+
+Go to , go to : peace ! peace ! we must deal gently with him ; let me alone . How do you , Malvolio ? how is't with you ? What , man ! defy the devil : consider , he's an enemy to mankind .
+
+Do you know what you say ?
+
+La you ! an you speak ill of the devil , how he takes it at heart . Pray God , he be not bewitched !
+
+Carry his water to the wise-woman .
+
+Marry , and it shall be done to-morrow morning , if I live . My lady would not lose him for more than I'll say .
+
+How now , mistress !
+
+O Lord !
+
+Prithee , hold thy peace ; this is not the way : do you not see you move him ? let me alone with him .
+
+No way but gentleness ; gently , gently : the fiend is rough , and will not be roughly used .
+
+Why , how now , my bawcock ! how dost thou , chuck ?
+
+Sir !
+
+Ay , Biddy , come with me . What , man ! 'tis not for gravity to play at cherry-pit with Satan : hang him , foul collier !
+
+Get him to say his prayers , good Sir Toby , get him to pray .
+
+My prayers , minx !
+
+No , I warrant you , he will not hear of godliness .
+
+Go , hang yourselves all ! you are idle shallow things : I am not of your element . You shall know more hereafter .
+
+
+Is't possible ?
+
+If this were played upon a stage now , I could condemn it as an improbable fiction .
+
+His very genius hath taken the infection of the device , man .
+
+Nay , pursue him now , lest the device take air , and taint .
+
+Why , we shall make him mad indeed .
+
+The house will be the quieter .
+
+Come , we'll have him in a dark room , and bound . My niece is already in the belief that he's mad : we may carry it thus , for our pleasure and his penance , till our very pastime , tired out of breath , prompt us to have mercy on him ; at which time we will bring the device to the bar , and crown thee for a finder of madmen . But see , but see .
+
+
+More matter for a May morning .
+
+Here's the challenge ; read it : I warrant there's vinegar and pepper in't .
+
+Is't so saucy ?
+
+Ay , is't , I warrant him : do but read .
+
+Give me . Youth , whatsoever thou art , thou art but a scurvy fellow .
+
+Good , and valiant .
+
+Wonder not , nor admire not in thy mind , why I do call thee so , for I will show thee no reason for't ,
+
+A good note , that keeps you from the blow of the law .
+
+Thou comest to the Lady Olivia , and in my sight she uses thee kindly : but thou liest in thy throat ; that is not the matter I challenge thee for .
+
+Very brief , and to exceeding good sense less .
+
+I will waylay thee going home ; where , if it be thy chance to kill me ,
+
+Good .
+
+Thou killest me like a rogue and a villain .
+
+Still you keep o' the windy side of the law : good .
+
+Fare thee well ; and God have mercy upon one of our souls ! He may have mercy upon mine , but my hope is better ; and so look to thyself . Thy friend , as thou usest him , and thy sworn enemy ,
+If this letter move him not , his legs cannot .
+I'll give't him .
+
+You may have very fit occasion for for't : he is now in some commerce with my lady , and will by and by depart .
+
+Go , Sir Andrew ; scout me for him at the corner of the orchard like a bum-baily : so soon as ever thou seest him , draw ; and , as thou drawest , swear horrible ; for it comes to pass oft that a terrible oath , with a swaggering accent sharply twanged off , gives manhood more approbation than ever proof itself would have earned him . Away !
+
+Nay , let me alone for swearing .
+
+
+Now will not I deliver his letter : for the behaviour of the young gentleman gives him out to be of good capacity and breeding ; his employment between his lord and my niece confirms no less : therefore this letter , being so excellently ignorant , will breed no terror in the youth : he will find it comes from a clodpole . But , sir , I will deliver his challenge by word of mouth ; set upon Aguecheek a notable report of valour ; and drive the gentleman ,as I know his youth will aptly receive it ,into a most hideous opinion of his rage , skill , fury , and impetuosity . This will so fright them both that they will kill one another by the look , like cockatrices .
+
+Here he comes with your niece : give them way till he take leave , and presently after him .
+
+I will meditate the while upon some horrid message for a challenge .
+
+I have said too much unto a heart of stone ,
+And laid mine honour too unchary out :
+There's something in me that reproves my fault ,
+But such a headstrong potent fault it is
+That it but mocks reproof .
+
+With the same haviour that your passion bears
+Goes on my master's griefs .
+
+Here ; wear this jewel for me , 'tis my picture ;
+Refuse it not ; it hath no tongue to vex you ;
+And I beseech you come again to-morrow .
+What shall you ask of me that I'll deny ,
+That honour sav'd may upon asking give ?
+
+Nothing but this ; your true love for my master .
+
+How with mine honour may I give him that
+Which I have given to you ?
+
+I will acquit you .
+
+Well , come again to-morrow : fare thee well :
+A fiend like thee might bear my soul to hell .
+
+Gentleman , God save thee .
+
+And you , sir .
+
+That defence thou hast , betake thee to't : of what nature the wrongs are thou hast done him , I know not ; but thy intercepter , full of despite , bloody as the hunter , attends thee at the orchard-end . Dismount thy tuck , be yare in thy preparation , for thy assailant is quick , skilful , and deadly .
+
+You mistake , sir : I am sure no man hath any quarrel to me : my remembrance is very free and clear from any image of offence done to any man .
+
+You'll find it otherwise , I assure you : therefore , if you hold your life at any price , betake you to your guard ; for your opposite hath in him what youth , strength , skill , and wrath , can furnish man withal .
+
+I pray you , sir , what is he ?
+
+He is knight dubbed with unhatched rapier , and on carpet consideration ; but he is a devil in private brawl : souls and bodies hath he divorced three , and his incensement at this moment is so implacable that satisfaction can be none but by pangs of death and sepulchre . Hob , nob , is his word : give't or take't .
+
+I will return again into the house and desire some conduct of the lady : I am no fighter . I have heard of some kind of men that put quarrels purposely on others to taste their valour ; belike this is a man of that quirk .
+
+Sir , no ; his indignation derives itself out of a very competent injury : therefore get you on and give him his desire . Back you shall not to the house , unless you undertake that with me which with as much safety you might answer him : therefore , on , or strip your sword stark naked ; for meddle you must , that's certain , or forswear to wear iron about you .
+
+This is as uncivil as strange . I beseech you , do me this courteous office , as to know of the knight what my offence to him is : it is something of my negligence , nothing of my purpose .
+
+I will do so . Signior Fabian , stay you by this gentleman till my return .
+
+
+Pray you , sir , do you know of this matter ?
+
+I know the knight is incensed against you , even to a mortal arbitrement , but nothing of the circumstance more .
+
+I beseech you , what manner of man is he ?
+
+Nothing of that wonderful promise , to read him by his form , as you are like to find him in the proof of his valour . He is , indeed , sir , the most skilful , bloody , and fatal opposite that you could possibly have found in any part of Illyria . Will you walk towards him ? I will make your peace with him if I can .
+
+I shall be much bound to you for't : I am one that had rather go with sir priest than sir knight ; I care not who knows so much of my mettle .
+
+Why , man , he's a very devil ; I have not seen such a firago . I had a pass with him , rapier , scabbard and all , and he gives me the stuck in with such a mortal motion that it is inevitable ; and on the answer , he pays you as surely as your feet hit the ground they step on . They say he has been fencer to the Sophy .
+
+Pox on't , I'll not meddle with him .
+
+Ay , but he will not now be pacified : Fabian can scarce hold him yonder .
+
+Plague on't ; an I thought he had been valiant and so cunning in fence I'd have seen him damned ere I'd have challenged him . Let him let the matter slip , and I'll give him my horse , grey Capilet .
+
+I'll make the motion . Stand here ; make a good show on't : this shall end without the perdition of souls .
+
+Marry , I'll ride your horse as well as I ride you .
+
+I have his horse to take up the quarrel . I have persuaded him the youth's a devil .
+
+He is as horribly conceited of him ; and pants and looks pale , as if a bear were at his heels .
+
+There's no remedy , sir : he will fight with you for his oath's sake . Marry , he hath better bethought him of his quarrel , and he finds that now scarce to be worth talking of : therefore draw for the supportance of his vow : he protests he will not hurt you .
+
+Pray God defend me ! A little thing would make me tell them how much I lack of a man .
+
+Give ground , if you see him furious .
+
+Come , Sir Andrew , there's no remedy : the gentleman will , for his honour's sake , have one bout with you ; he cannot by the duello avoid it : but he has promised me , as he is a gentleman and a soldier , he will not hurt you . Come on ; to't .
+
+Pray God , he keep his oath !
+
+
+I do assure you , 'tis against my will .
+
+Put up your sword . If this young gentleman
+Have done offence , I take the fault on me :
+If you offend him , I for him defy you .
+
+
+You , sir ! why , what are you ?
+
+One , sir , that for his love dares yet do more
+Than you have heard him brag to you he will .
+
+Nay , if you be an undertaker , I am for you .
+
+
+O , good sir Toby , hold ! here come the officers .
+
+I'll be with you anon .
+
+Pray , sir , put your sword up , if you please .
+
+Marry , will I , sir ; and , for that I promised you , I'll be as good as my word . He will bear you easily and reins well .
+
+
+This is the man ; do thy office .
+
+Antonio , I arrest thee at the suit
+Of Count Orsino .
+
+You do mistake me , sir .
+
+No , sir , no jot : I know your favour well ,
+Though now you have no sea-cap on your head .
+Take him away : he knows I know him well .
+
+I must obey .
+
+This comes with seeking you :
+But there's no remedy : I shall answer it .
+What will you do , now my necessity
+Makes me to ask you for my purse ? It grieves me
+Much more for what I cannot do for you
+Than what befalls myself . You stand amaz'd :
+But be of comfort .
+
+Come , sir , away .
+
+I must entreat of you some of that money .
+
+What money , sir ?
+For the fair kindness you have show'd me here ,
+And part , being prompted by your present trouble ,
+Out of my lean and low ability
+I'll lend you something : my having is not much :
+I'll make division of my present with you .
+Hold , there is half my coffer .
+
+Will you deny me now ?
+Is't possible that my deserts to you
+Can lack persuasion ? Do not tempt my misery ,
+Lest that it make me so unsound a man
+As to upbraid you with those kindnesses
+That I have done for you .
+
+I know of none ;
+Nor know I you by voice or any feature .
+I hate ingratitude more in a man
+Than lying , vainness , babbling drunkenness ,
+Or any taint of vice whose strong corruption
+Inhabits our frail blood .
+
+O heavens themselves !
+
+Come , sir : I pray you , go .
+
+Let me speak a little . This youth that you see here
+I snatch'd one-half out of the jaws of death ,
+Reliev'd him with such sanctity of love ,
+And to his image , which methought did promise
+Most venerable worth , did I devotion .
+
+What's that to us ? The time goes by : away !
+
+But O ! how vile an idol proves this god .
+Thou hast , Sebastian , done good feature shame .
+In nature there's no blemish but the mind ;
+None can be call'd deform'd but the unkind :
+Virtue is beauty , but the beauteous evil
+Are empty trunks o'erflourish'd by the devil .
+
+The man grows mad : away with him ! Come , come , sir .
+
+Lead me on .
+
+
+Methinks his words do from such passion fly ,
+That he believes himself ; so do not I .
+Prove true , imagination , O , prove true ,
+That I , dear brother , be now ta'en for you !
+
+Come hither , knight ; come hither ,
+Fabian : we'll whisper o'er a couplet or two of most sage saws .
+
+He nam'd Sebastian : I my brother know
+Yet living in my glass ; even such and so
+In favour was my brother ; and he went
+Still in this fashion , colour , ornament ,
+For him I imitate . O ! if it prove ,
+Tempests are kind , and salt waves fresh in love !
+
+
+A very dishonest paltry boy , and more a coward than a hare . His dishonesty appears in leaving his friend here in necessity , and denying him ; and for his cowardship , ask Fabian .
+
+A coward , a most devout coward , religious in it .
+
+'Slid , I'll after him again and beat him .
+
+Do ; cuff him soundly , but never draw thy sword .
+
+An I do not ,
+
+
+Come , let's see the event .
+
+I dare lay any money 'twill be nothing yet .
+
+Will you make me believe that I am not sent for you ?
+
+Go to , go to ; thou art a foolish fellow :
+Let me be clear of thee .
+
+Well held out , i' faith ! No , I do not know you ; nor I am not sent to you by my lady to bid you come speak with her ; nor your name is not Master Cesario ; nor this is not my nose neither . Nothing that is so is so .
+
+I prithee , vent thy folly somewhere else :
+Thou know'st not me .
+
+Vent my folly ! He has heard that word of some great man , and now applies it to a fool . Vent my folly ! I am afraid this great lubber , the world , will prove a cockney . I prithee now , ungird thy strangeness and tell me what I shall vent to my lady . Shall I vent to her that thou art coming ?
+
+I prithee , foolish Greek , depart from me :
+There's money for thee : if you tarry longer
+I shall give worse payment .
+
+By my troth , thou hast an open hand .
+These wise men that give fools money get themselves a good report after fourteen years' purchase .
+
+
+Now , sir , have I met you again ? there's for you .
+
+
+Why , there's for thee , and there , and there , and there !
+
+Are all the people mad ?
+
+
+Hold , sir , or I'll throw your dagger o'er the house .
+
+This will I tell my lady straight . I would not be in some of your coats for twopence .
+
+
+Come on , sir : hold .
+
+Nay , let him alone ; I'll go another way to work with him : I'll have an action of battery against him if there be any law in Illyria . Though I struck him first , yet it's no matter for that .
+
+Let go thy hand .
+
+Come , sir , I will not let you go . Come , my young soldier , put up your iron : you are well fleshed ; come on .
+
+I will be free from thee .
+
+What wouldst thou now ?
+If thou dar'st tempt me further , draw thy sword .
+
+What , what ! Nay then , I must have an ounce or two of this malapert blood from you .
+
+Hold , Toby ! on thy life I charge thee , hold !
+
+Madam !
+
+Will it be ever thus ? Ungracious wretch !
+Fit for the mountains and the barbarous caves ,
+Where manners ne'er were preach'd . Out of my sight !
+Be not offended , dear Cesario .
+Rudesby , be gone !
+
+I prithee , gentle friend ,
+Let thy fair wisdom , not thy passion , sway
+In this uncivil and unjust extent
+Against thy peace . Go with me to my house ,
+And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks
+This ruffian hath botch'd up , that thou thereby
+Mayst smile at this . Thou shalt not choose but go :
+Do not deny . Beshrew his soul for me ,
+He started one poor heart of mine in thee .
+
+What relish is in this ? how runs the stream ?
+Or I am mad , or else this is a dream :
+Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep ;
+If it be thus to dream , still let me sleep !
+
+Nay ; come , I prithee . Would thou'dst be rul'd by me !
+
+Madam , I will .
+
+O ! say so , and so be !
+
+
+Nay , I prithee , put on this gown and this beard ; make him believe thou art Sir Topas the curate : do it quickly ; I'll call Sir Toby the whilst .
+
+
+Well , I'll put it on and I will dissemble myself in't : and I would I were the first that ever dissembled in such a gown . I am not tall enough to become the function well , nor lean enough to be thought a good student ; but to be said an honest man and a good housekeeper goes as fairly as to say a careful man and a great scholar . The competitors enter .
+
+
+God bless thee , Master parson .
+
+Bonos dies , Sir Toby : for , as the old hermit of Prague , that never saw pen and ink , very wittily said to a niece of King Gorboduc , 'That , that is , is ;' so I , being Master parson , am Master parson ; for , what is 'that ,' but 'that ,' and 'is ,' but 'is ?'
+
+To him , Sir Topas .
+
+What ho ! I say . Peace in this prison !
+
+The knave counterfeits well ; a good knave .
+
+Who calls there ?
+
+Sir Topas , the curate , who comes to visit Malvolio the lunatic .
+
+Sir Topas , Sir Topas , good Sir Topas , go to my lady .
+
+Out , hyperbolical fiend ! how vexest thou this man ! Talkest thou nothing but of ladies ?
+
+Well said , Master Parson .
+
+Sir Topas , never was man thus wronged . Good Sir Topas , do not think I am mad : they have laid me here in hideous darkness .
+
+Fie , thou dishonest Satan ! I call thee by the most modest terms ; for I am one of those gentle ones that will use the devil himself with courtesy . Sayst thou that house is dark ?
+
+As hell , Sir Topas .
+
+Why , it hath bay-windows transparent as barricadoes , and the clerestories toward the south-north are as lustrous as ebony ; and yet complainest thou of obstruction ?
+
+I am not mad , Sir Topas . I say to you , this house is dark .
+
+Madman , thou errest : I say , there is no darkness but ignorance , in which thou art more puzzled than the Egyptians in their fog .
+
+I say this house is as dark as ignorance , though ignorance were as dark as hell ; and I say , there was never man thus abused . I am no more mad than you are : make the trial of it in any constant question .
+
+What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning wild fowl ?
+
+That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird .
+
+What thinkest thou of his opinion ?
+
+I think nobly of the soul , and no way approve his opinion .
+
+Fare thee well : remain thou still in darkness : thou shalt hold the opinion of Pythagoras ere I will allow of thy wits , and fear to kill a woodcock , lest thou dispossess the soul of thy grandam . Fare thee well .
+
+Sir Topas ! Sir Topas !
+
+My most exquisite Sir Topas !
+
+Nay , I am for all waters .
+
+Thou mightst have done this without thy beard and gown : he sees thee not .
+
+To him in thine own voice , and bring me word how thou findest him : I would we were well rid of this knavery . If he may be conveniently delivered , I would he were ; for I am now so far in offence with my niece that I cannot pursue with any safety this sport to the upshot . Come by and by to my chamber .
+
+Hey Robin , jolly Robin ,
+Tell me how thy lady does .
+
+
+Fool !
+
+My lady is unkind , perdy !
+
+Fool !
+
+Alas , why is she so ?
+
+Fool , I say !
+
+She loves another .
+Who calls , ha ?
+
+Good fool , as ever thou wilt deserve well at my hand , help me to a candle , and pen , ink , and paper . As I am a gentleman , I will live to be thankful to thee for't .
+
+Master Malvoliol
+
+Ay , good fool .
+
+Alas , sir , how fell you beside your five wits ?
+
+Fool , there was never man so notoriously abused : I am as well in my wits , fool , as thou art .
+
+But as well ? then you are mad indeed , if you be no better in your wits than a fool .
+
+They have here propertied me ; keep me in darkness , send ministers to me , asses ! and do all they can to face me out of my wits .
+
+Advise you what you say : the minister is here . Malvolio , Malvolio , thy wits the heavens restore ! endeavour thyself to sleep , and leave thy vain bibble-babble .
+
+Sir Topas !
+
+Maintain no words with him , good fellow .Who , I , sir ? not I , sir . God be wi' you , good Sir Topas . Marry , amen . I will , sir , I will .
+
+Fool , fool , fool , I say !
+
+Alas , sir , be patient . What say you , sir ? I am shent for speaking to you .
+
+Good fool , help me to some light and some paper : I tell thee I am as well in my wits as any man in Illyria .
+
+Well-a-day , that you were , sir !
+
+By this hand , I am . Good fool , some ink , paper , and light ; and convey what I will set down to my lady : it shall advantage thee more than ever the bearing of letter did .
+
+I will help you to't . But tell me true , are you not mad indeed ? or do you but counterfeit ?
+
+Believe me , I am not : I tell thee true .
+
+Nay , I'll ne'er believe a madman till I see his brains . I will fetch you light and paper and ink .
+
+Fool , I'll requite it in the highest degree : I prithee , be gone .
+
+
+I am gone , sir ,
+And anon , sir ,
+I'll be with you again
+In a trice ,
+Like to the old Vice ,
+Your need to sustain ;
+Who with dagger of lath ,
+In his rage and his wrath ,
+Cries , Ah , ah ! to the devil :
+Like a mad lad ,
+Pare thy nails , dad ;
+Adieu , goodman drivel .
+
+This is the air ; that is the glorious sun ; This pearl she gave me , I do feel't and see't ;
+And though 'tis wonder that enwraps me thus ,
+Yet 'tis not madness . Where's Antonio then ?
+I could not find him at the Elephant ;
+Yet there he was , and there I found this credit ,
+That he did range the town to seek me out .
+His counsel now might do me golden service ;
+For though my soul disputes well with my sense
+That this may be some error , but no madness ,
+Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune
+So far exceed all instance , all discourse ,
+That I am ready to distrust mine eyes ,
+And wrangle with my reason that persuades me
+To any other trust but that I am mad
+Or else the lady's mad : yet , if 'twere so ,
+She could not sway her house , command her followers ,
+Take and give back affairs and their dispatch
+With such a smooth , discreet , and stable bearing
+As I perceive she does . There's something in't
+That is deceivable . But here the lady comes .
+
+
+Blame not this haste of mine . If you mean well ,
+Now go with me and with this holy man
+Into the chantry by ; there , before him ,
+And underneath that consecrated roof ,
+Plight me the full assurance of your faith ;
+That my most jealous and too doubtful soul
+May live at peace . He shall conceal it
+Whiles you are willing it shall come to note ,
+What time we will our celebration keep
+According to my birth . What do you say ?
+
+I'll follow this good man , and go with you ;
+And , having sworn truth , ever will be true .
+
+Then lead the way , good father ; and heavens so shine
+That they may fairly note this act of mine !
+
+
+Now , as thou lovest me , let me see his letter .
+
+Good Master Fabian , grant me another request .
+
+Anything .
+
+Do not desire to see this letter .
+
+This is , to give a dog , and , in recompense desire my dog again .
+
+
+Belong you to the Lady Olivia , friends ?
+
+Ay , sir ; we are some of her trappings .
+
+I know thee well : how dost thou , my good fellow ?
+
+Truly , sir , the better for my foes and the worse for my friends .
+
+Just the contrary ; the better for thy friends .
+
+No , sir , the worse .
+
+How can that be ?
+
+Marry , sir , they praise me and make an ass of me ; now my foes tell me plainly I am an ass : so that by my foes , sir , I profit in the knowledge of myself , and by my friends I am abused : so that , conclusions to be as kisses , if your four negatives make your two affirmatives , why then , the worse for my friends and the better for my foes .
+
+Why , this is excellent .
+
+By my troth , sir , no ; though it please you to be one of my friends .
+
+Thou shalt not be the worse for me : there's gold .
+
+But that it would be double-dealing , sir , I would you could make it another .
+
+O , you give me ill counsel .
+
+Put your grace in your pocket , sir , for this once , and let your flesh and blood obey it .
+
+Well , I will be so much a sinner to be a double-dealer : there's another .
+
+Primo , secundo , tertio , is a good play ; and the old saying is , 'the third pays for all :' the triplex , sir , is a good tripping measure ; or the bells of Saint Bennet , sir , may put you in mind ; one , two , three .
+
+You can fool no more money out of me at this throw : if you will let your lady know I am here to speak with her , and bring her along with you , it may awake my bounty further .
+
+Marry , sir , lullaby to your bounty till I come again . I go , sir ; but I would not have you to think that my desire of having is the sin of covetousness ; but as you say , sir , let your bounty take a nap , I will awake it anon .
+
+
+Here comes the man , sir , that did rescue me .
+
+
+That face of his I do remember well ;
+Yet when I saw it last , it was besmear'd
+As black as Vulcan in the smoke of war .
+A bawbling vessel was he captain of ,
+For shallow draught and hulk unprizable ;
+With which such scathful grapple did he make
+With the most noble bottom of our fleet ,
+That very envy and the tongue of loss
+Cried fame and honour on him . What's the matter ?
+
+Orsino , this is that Antonio
+That took the Ph nix and her fraught from Candy ;
+And this is he that did the Tiger board ,
+When your young nephew Titus lost his leg .
+Here in the streets , desperate of shame and state ,
+In private brabble did we apprehend him .
+
+He did me kindness , sir , drew on my side ;
+But in conclusion put strange speech upon me :
+I know not what 'twas but distraction .
+
+Notable pirate ! thou salt-water thief !
+What foolish boldness brought thee to their mercies
+Whom thou , in terms so bloody and so dear ,
+Hast made thine enemies ?
+
+Orsino , noble sir ,
+Be pleas'd that I shake off these names you give me :
+Antonio never yet was thief or pirate ,
+Though I confess , on base and ground enough ,
+Orsino's enemy . A witchcraft drew me hither :
+That most ingrateful boy there by your side ,
+From the rude sea's enrag'd and foamy mouth
+Did I redeem ; a wrack past hope he was :
+His life I gave him , and did thereto add
+My love , without retention or restraint ,
+All his in dedication ; for his sake
+Did I expose myself , pure for his love ,
+Into the danger of this adverse town ;
+Drew to defend him when he was beset :
+Where being apprehended , his false cunning ,
+Not meaning to partake with me in danger ,
+Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance ,
+And grew a twenty years removed thing
+While one would wink , denied me mine own purse ,
+Which I had recommended to his use
+Not half an hour before .
+
+How can this be ?
+
+When came he to this town ?
+
+To-day , my lord ; and for three months before ,
+No interim , not a minute's vacancy ,
+Both day and night did we keep company .
+
+
+Here comes the countess : now heaven walks on earth !
+But for thee , fellow ; fellow , thy words are madness :
+Three months this youth hath tended upon me ;
+But more of that anon . Take him aside .
+
+What would my lord , but that he may not have ,
+Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable ?
+Cesario , you do not keep promise with me .
+
+Madam !
+
+Gracious Olivia .
+
+What do you say , Cesario ? Good my lord ,
+
+My lord would speak ; my duty hushes me .
+
+If it be aught to the old tune , my lord ,
+It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear
+As howling after music .
+
+Still so cruel ?
+
+Still so constant , lord .
+
+What , to perverseness ? you uncivil lady ,
+To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars
+My soul the faithfull'st offerings hath breath'd out
+That e'er devotion tender'd ! What shall I do ?
+
+Even what it please my lord , that shall become him .
+
+Why should I not , had I the heart to do it ,
+Like to the Egyptian thief at point of death ,
+Kill what I love ? a savage jealousy
+That sometimes savours nobly . But hear me this :
+Since you to non-regardance cast my faith ,
+And that I partly know the instrument
+That screws me from my true place in your favour ,
+Live you , the marble-breasted tyrant still ;
+But this your minion , whom I know you love ,
+And whom , by heaven I swear , I tender dearly ,
+Him will I tear out of that cruel eye ,
+Where he sits crowned in his master's spite .
+Come , boy , with me ; my thoughts are ripe in mischief ;
+I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love ,
+To spite a raven's heart within a dove .
+
+
+And I , most jocund , apt , and willingly ,
+To do you rest , a thousand deaths would die .
+
+
+Where goes Cesario ?
+
+After him I love
+More than I love these eyes , more than my life ,
+More , by all mores , than e'er I shall love wife .
+If I do feign , you witnesses above
+Punish my life for tainting of my love !
+
+Ah me , detested ! how am I beguil'd !
+
+Who does beguile you ? who does do you wrong ?
+
+Hast thou forgot thyself ? Is it so long ?
+Call forth the holy father .
+
+
+Come away .
+
+Whither , my lord ? Cesario , husband , stay .
+
+Husband ?
+
+Ay , husband : can he that deny ?
+
+Her husband , sirrah ?
+
+No , my lord , not I .
+
+Alas ! it is the baseness of thy fear
+That makes thee strangle thy propriety .
+Fear not , Cesario ; take thy fortunes up ;
+Be that thou know'st thou art , and then thou art
+As great as that thou fear'st .
+
+
+O , welcome , father !
+Father , I charge thee , by thy reverence ,
+Here to unfold ,though lately we intended
+To keep in darkness what occasion now
+Reveals before 'tis ripe ,what thou dost know
+
+Hath newly pass'd between this youth and me .
+
+A contract of eternal bond of love ,
+Confirm'd by mutual joinder of your hands ,
+Attested by the holy close of lips ,
+Strengthen'd by interchangement of your rings ;
+And all the ceremony of this compact
+Seal'd in my function , by my testimony :
+Since when , my watch hath told me , toward my grave
+I have travell'd but two hours .
+
+O , thou dissembling cub ! what wilt thou be
+When time hath sow'd a grizzle on thy case ?
+Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow
+That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow ?
+Farewell , and take her ; but direct thy feet
+Where thou and I henceforth may never meet .
+
+My lord , I do protest ,
+
+O ! do not swear :
+Hold little faith , though thou hast too much fear .
+
+
+For the love of God , a surgeon ! send one presently to Sir Toby .
+
+What's the matter ?
+
+He has broke my head across , and has given Sir Toby a bloody coxcomb too . For the love of God , your help ! I had rather than forty pound I were at home .
+
+Who has done this , Sir Andrew ?
+
+The count's gentleman , one Cesario : we took him for a coward , but he's the very devil incardinate .
+
+My gentleman , Cesario ?
+
+Od's lifelings ! here he is . You broke my head for nothing ! and that that I did , I was set on to do't by Sir Toby .
+
+Why do you speak to me ? I never hurt you :
+You drew your sword upon me without cause ;
+But I bespake you fair , and hurt you not .
+
+If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt , you have hurt me : I think you set nothing by a bloody coxcomb . Here comes Sir Toby halting ;
+
+you shall hear more : but if he had not been in drink he would have tickled you othergates than he did .
+
+How now , gentleman ! how is't with you ?
+
+That's all one : he has hurt me , and there's the end on't . Sot , didst see Dick surgeon , sot ?
+
+O ! he's drunk , Sir Toby , an hour agone : his eyes were set at eight i' the morning .
+
+Then he's a rogue , and a passy-measures pavin . I hate a drunken rogue .
+
+Away with him ! Who hath made this havoc with them ?
+
+I'll help you , Sir Toby , because we'll be dressed together .
+
+Will you help ? an ass-head and a coxcomb and a knave , a thin-faced knave , a gull !
+
+Get him to bed , and let his hurt be look'd to .
+
+I am sorry , madam , I have hurt your kinsman ;
+But , had it been the brother of my blood ,
+I must have done no less with wit and safety .
+You throw a strange regard upon me , and by that
+I do perceive it hath offended you :
+Pardon me , sweet one , even for the vows
+We made each other but so late ago .
+
+One face , one voice , one habit , and two persons ;
+A natural perspective , that is , and is not !
+
+Antonio ! O my dear Antonio !
+How have the hours rack'd and tortur'd me
+Since I have lost thee !
+
+Sebastian are you ?
+
+Fear'st thou that , Antonio ?
+
+How have you made division of yourself ?
+An apple cleft in two is not more twin
+Than these two creatures . Which is Sebastian ?
+
+Most wonderful !
+
+Do I stand there ? I never had a brother ;
+Nor can there be that deity in my nature ,
+Of here and every where . I had a sister ,
+Whom the blind waves and surges have devour'd .
+Of charity , what kin are you to me ?
+What countryman ? what name ? what parentage ?
+
+Of Messaline : Sebastian was my father ;
+Such a Sebastian was my brother too ,
+So went he suited to his watery tomb .
+If spirits can assume both form and suit
+You come to fright us .
+
+A spirit I am indeed ;
+But am in that dimension grossly clad
+Which from the womb I did participate .
+Were you a woman , as the rest goes even ,
+I should my tears let fall upon your cheek ,
+And say , 'Thrice welcome , drowned Viola !'
+
+My father had a mole upon his brow .
+
+And so had mine .
+
+And died that day when Viola from her birth
+Had number'd thirteen years .
+
+O ! that record is lively in my soul .
+He finished indeed his mortal act
+That day that made my sister thirteen years .
+
+If nothing lets to make us happy both
+But this my masculine usurp'd attire ,
+Do not embrace me till each circumstance
+Of place , time , fortune , do cohere and jump
+That I am Viola : which to confirm ,
+I'll bring you to a captain in this town ,
+Where lie my maiden weeds : by whose gentle help
+I was preserv'd to serve this noble count .
+All the occurrence of my fortune since
+Hath been between this lady and this lord .
+
+So comes it , lady , you have been mistook :
+But nature to her bias drew in that .
+You would have been contracted to a maid ;
+Nor are you therein , by my life , deceiv'd ,
+You are betroth'd both to a maid and man .
+
+Be not amaz'd ; right noble is his blood .
+If this be so , as yet the glass seems true ,
+I shall have share in this most happy wrack .
+
+
+Boy , thou hast said to me a thousand times
+Thou never shouldst love woman like to me .
+
+And all those sayings will I over-swear ,
+And all those swearings keep as true in soul
+As doth that orbed continent the fire
+That severs day from night .
+
+Give me thy hand ;
+And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds .
+
+The captain that did bring me first on shore
+Hath my maid's garments : he upon some action
+Is now in durance at Malvolio's suit ,
+A gentleman and follower of my lady's .
+
+He shall enlarge him . Fetch Malvolio hither .
+And yet , alas , now I remember me ,
+They say , poor gentleman , he's much distract .
+A most extracting frenzy of mine own
+From my remembrance clearly banish'd his .
+
+How does he , sirrah ?
+
+Truly , madam , he holds Belzebub at the stave's end as well as a man in his case may do . He has here writ a letter to you : I should have given it to you to-day morning ; but as a madman's epistles are no gospels , so it skills not much when they are delivered .
+
+Open it , and read it .
+
+Look then to be well edified , when the fool delivers the madman .
+By the Lord , madam ,
+
+How now ! art thou mad ?
+
+No , madam , I do but read madness : an your ladyship will have it as it ought to be , you must allow vox .
+
+Prithee , read i' thy right wits .
+
+So I do , madonna ; but to read his right wits is to read thus : therefore perpend , my princess , and give ear .
+
+Read it you , sirrah .
+
+
+By the Lord , madam , you wrong me , and the world shall know it : though you have put me into darkness , and given your drunken cousin rule over me , yet have I the benefit of my senses as well as your ladyship . I have your own letter that induced me to the semblance I put on ; with the which I doubt not but to do myself much right , or you much shame . Think of me as you please . I leave my duty a little unthought of , and speak out of my injury . THE MADLY-USED MALVOLIO .
+
+Did he write this ?
+
+Ay , madam .
+
+This savours not much of distraction .
+
+See him deliver'd , Fabian ; bring him hither .
+
+My lord , so please you , these things further thought on ,
+To think me as well a sister as a wife ,
+One day shall crown the alliance on't , so please you ,
+Here at my house and at my proper cost .
+
+Madam , I am most apt to embrace your offer .
+
+
+Your master quits you ; and , for your service done him ,
+So much against the mettle of your sex ,
+So far beneath your soft and tender breeding ;
+And since you call'd me master for so long ,
+Here is my hand : you shall from this time be
+Your master's mistress .
+
+A sister ! you are she .
+
+
+Is this the madman ?
+
+Ay , my lord , this same .
+How now , Malvolio !
+
+Madam , you have done me wrong ,
+Notorious wrong .
+
+Have I , Malvolio ? no .
+
+Lady , you have . Pray you peruse that letter .
+You must not now deny it is your hand :
+Write from it , if you can , in hand or phrase ,
+Or say 'tis not your seal nor your invention :
+You can say none of this . Well , grant it then ,
+And tell me , in the modesty of honour ,
+Why you have given me such clear lights of favour ,
+Bade me come smiling and cross-garter'd to you ,
+To put on yellow stockings , and to frown
+Upon Sir Toby and the lighter people ;
+And , acting this in an obedient hope ,
+Why have you suffer'd me to be imprison'd ,
+Kept in a dark house , visited by the priest ,
+And made the most notorious geck and gull
+That e'er invention play'd on ? tell me why .
+
+Alas ! Malvolio , this is not my writing ,
+Though , I confess , much like the character ;
+But , out of question , 'tis Maria's hand :
+And now I do bethink me , it was she
+First told me thou wast mad ; then cam'st in smiling ,
+And in such forms which here were presuppos'd
+Upon thee in the letter . Prithee , be content :
+This practice hath most shrewdly pass'd upon thee ;
+But when we know the grounds and authors of it ,
+Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge
+Of thine own cause .
+
+Good madam , hear me speak ,
+And let no quarrel nor no brawl to come
+Taint the condition of this present hour ,
+Which I have wonder'd at . In hope it shall not ,
+Most freely I confess , myself and Toby
+Set this device against Malvolio here ,
+Upon some stubborn and uncourteous parts
+We had conceiv'd against him . Maria writ
+The letter at Sir Toby's great importance ;
+In recompense whereof he hath married her .
+How with a sportful malice it was follow'd ,
+May rather pluck on laughter than revenge ,
+If that the injuries be justly weigh'd
+That have on both sides past .
+
+Alas , poor fool , how have they baffled thee !
+
+Why , 'some are born great , some achieve greatness , and some have greatness thrown upon them .' I was one , sir , in this interlude ; one Sir Topas , sir ; but that's all one . 'By the Lord , fool , I am not mad :' But do you remember ? 'Madam , why laugh you at such a barren rascal ? an you smile not , he's gagged :' and thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges .
+
+I'll be reveng'd on the whole pack of you .
+
+
+He hath been most notoriously abus'd .
+
+Pursue him , and entreat him to a peace ;
+He hath not told us of the captain yet :
+When that is known and golden time convents ,
+A solemn combination shall be made
+Of our dear souls . Meantime , sweet sister ,
+We will not part from hence . Cesario , come ;
+For so you shall be , while you are a man ;
+But when in other habits you are seen ,
+Orsino's mistress , and his fancy's queen .
+
+When that I was and a little tiny boy ,
+With hey , ho , the wind and the rain ;
+A foolish thing was but a toy ,
+For the rain it raineth every day .
+
+
+But when I came to man's estate ,
+With hey , ho , the wind and the rain ;
+'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gates ,
+For the rain it raineth every day .
+
+
+But when I came , alas ! to wive ,
+With hey , ho , the wind and the rain ;
+By swaggering could I never thrive ,
+For the rain it raineth every day .
+
+
+But when I came unto my beds ,
+With hey , ho , the wind and the rain ;
+With toss-pots still had drunken heads ,
+For the rain it raineth every day .
+
+
+A great while ago the world begun ,
+With hey , ho , the wind and the rain ;
+But that's all one , our play is done ,
+And we'll strive to please you every day .
+
+ THE FAMOUS HISTORY OF THE LIFE OF KING HENRY VIII
+
+
+I come no more to make you laugh : things now ,
+That bear a weighty and a serious brow ,
+Sad , high , and working , full of state and woe ,
+Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow ,
+We now present . Those that can pity , here
+May , if they think it well , let fall a tear ;
+The subject will deserve it . Such as give
+Their money out of hope they may believe ,
+May here find truth too . Those that come to see
+Only a show or two , and so agree
+The play may pass , if they be still and willing ,
+I'll undertake may see away their shilling
+Richly in two short hours . Only they
+That come to hear a merry , bawdy play ,
+A noise of targets , or to see a fellow
+In a long molley coat guarded with yellow ,
+Will be deceiv'd ; for , gentle hearers , know ,
+To rank our chosen truth with such a show
+As fool and fight is , besides forfeiting
+Our own brains , and the opinion that we bring ,
+To make that only true we now intend ,
+Will leave us never an understanding friend .
+Therefore , for goodness' sake , and as you are known
+The first and happiest hearers of the town ,
+Be sad , as we would make ye : think ye see
+The very persons of our noble story
+As they were living ; think you see them great ,
+And follow'd with the general throng and sweat
+Of thousand friends ; then , in a moment see
+How soon this mightiness meets misery :
+And if you can be merry then , I'll say
+A man may weep upon his wedding day .
+
+
+Good morrow , and well met . How have you done ,
+Since last we saw in France ?
+
+I thank your Grace ,
+Healthful ; and ever since a fresh admirer
+Of what I saw there .
+
+An untimely ague
+Stay'd me a prisoner in my chamber , when
+Those suns of glory , those two lights of men ,
+Met in the vale of Andren .
+
+'Twixt Guynes and Arde :
+I was then present , saw them salute on horseback ;
+Beheld them , when they lighted , how they clung
+In their embracement , as they grew together ;
+Which had they , what four thron'd ones could have weigh'd
+Such a compounded one ?
+
+All the whole time
+I was my chamber's prisoner .
+
+Then you lost
+The view of earthly glory : men might say ,
+Till this time , pomp was single , but now married
+To one above itself . Each following day
+Became the next day's master , till the last
+Made former wonders its . To-day the French
+All clinquant , all in gold , like heathen gods ,
+Shone down the English ; and to-morrow they
+Made Britain India : every man that stood
+Show'd like a mine . Their dwarfish pages were
+As cherubins , all gilt : the madams , too ,
+Not us'd to toil , did almost sweat to bear
+The pride upon them , that their very labour
+Was to them as a painting . Now this masque
+Was cried incomparable ; and the ensuing night
+Made it a fool , and beggar . The two kings ,
+Equal in lustre , were now best , now worst ,
+As presence did present them ; him in eye ,
+Still him in praise ; and , being present both ,
+'Twas said they saw but one ; and no discerner
+Durst wag his tongue in censure . When these suns
+For so they phrase 'em by their heralds challeng'd
+The noble spirits to arms , they did perform
+Beyond thought's compass ; that former fabulous story ,
+Being now seen possible enough , got credit ,
+That Bevis was believ'd .
+
+O ! you go far .
+
+As I belong to worship , and affect
+In honour honesty , the tract of every thing
+Would by a good discourser lose some life ,
+Which action's self was tongue to . All was royal ;
+To the disposing of it nought rebell'd ,
+Order gave each thing view ; the office did
+Distinctly his full function .
+
+Who did guide ,
+I mean , who set the body and the limbs
+Of this great sport together , as you guess ?
+
+One certes , that promises no element
+In such a business .
+
+I pray you , who , my lord ?
+
+All this was order'd by the good discretion
+Of the right reverend Cardinal of York .
+
+The devil speed him ! no man's pie is freed
+From his ambitious finger . What had he
+To do in these fierce vanities ? I wonder
+That such a keech can with his very bulk
+Take up the rays o' the beneficial sun ,
+And keep it from the earth .
+
+Surely , sir ,
+There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends ;
+For , being not propp'd by ancestry , whose grace
+Chalks successors their way , nor call'd upon
+For high feats done to the crown ; neither allied
+To eminent assistants ; but , spider-like ,
+Out of his self-drawing web , he gives us note ,
+The force of his own merit makes his way ;
+A gift that heaven gives for him , which buys
+A place next to the king .
+
+I cannot tell
+What heaven hath given him : let some graver eye
+Pierce into that ; but I can see his pride
+Peep through each part of him : whence has he that ?
+If not from hell , the devil is a niggard ,
+Or has given all before , and he begins
+A new hell in himself .
+
+Why the devil ,
+Upon this French going-out , took he upon him ,
+Without the privity o' the king , to appoint
+Who should attend on him ? He makes up the file
+Of all the gentry ; for the most part such
+To whom as great a charge as little honour
+He meant to lay upon : and his own letter ,
+The honourable board of council out ,
+Must fetch him in he papers .
+
+I do know
+Kinsmen of mine , three at the least , that have
+By this so sicken'd their estates , that never
+They shall abound as formerly .
+
+O ! many
+Have broke their backs with laying manors on 'em
+For this great journey . What did this vanity
+But minister communication of
+A most poor issue ?
+
+Grievingly I think ,
+The peace between the French and us not values
+The cost that did conclude it .
+
+Every man ,
+After the hideous storm that follow'd , was
+A thing inspir'd ; and , not consulting , broke
+Into a general prophecy : That this tempest ,
+Dashing the garment of this peace , aboded
+The sudden breach on't .
+
+Which is budded out ;
+For France hath flaw'd the league , and hath attach'd
+Our merchants' goods at Bourdeaux .
+
+Is it therefore
+The ambassador is silenc'd ?
+
+Marry , is't .
+
+A proper title of a peace ; and purchas'd
+At a superfluous rate !
+
+Why , all this business
+Our reverend cardinal carried .
+
+Like it your Grace ,
+The state takes notice of the private difference
+Betwixt you and the cardinal . I advise you ,
+And take it from a heart that wishes towards you
+Honour and plenteous safety ,that you read
+The cardinal's malice and his potency
+Together ; to consider further that
+What his high hatred would effect wants not
+A minister in his power . You know his nature ,
+That he's revengeful ; and I know his sword
+Hath a sharp edge : it's long , and 't may be said ,
+It reaches far ; and where 'twill not extend ,
+Thither he darts it . Bosom up my counsel ,
+You'll find it wholesome . Lo where comes that rock
+That I advise your shunning .
+
+The Duke of Buckingham's surveyor , ha ?
+Where's his examination ?
+
+Here , so please you .
+
+Is he in person ready ?
+
+Ay , please your Grace .
+
+Well , we shall then know more ; and Buckingham
+Shall lessen this big look .
+
+
+This butcher's cur is venom-mouth'd , and I
+Have not the power to muzzle him ; therefore best
+Not wake him in his slumber . A beggar's book
+Outworths a noble's blood .
+
+What ! are you chaf'd ?
+Ask God for temperance ; that's the appliance only
+Which your disease requires .
+
+I read in's looks
+Matter against me ; and his eye revil'd
+Me , as his abject object : at this instant
+He bores me with some trick : he's gone to the king ;
+I'll follow , and out-stare him .
+
+Stay , my lord ,
+And let your reason with your choler question
+What 'tis you go about . To climb steep hills
+Requires slow pace at first : anger is like
+A full-hot horse , who being allow'd his way ,
+Self-mettle tires him . Not a man in England
+Can advise me like you : be to yourself
+As you would to your friend .
+
+I'll to the king ;
+And from a mouth of honour quite cry down
+This Ipswich fellow's insolence , or proclaim
+There's difference in no persons .
+
+Be advis'd ;
+Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot
+That it do singe yourself . We may outrun
+By violent swiftness that which we run at ,
+And lose by overrunning . Know you not ,
+The fire that mounts the liquor till it run o'er ,
+In seeming to augment it wastes it ? Be advis'd :
+I say again , there is no English soul
+More stronger to direct you than yourself ,
+If with the sap of reason you would quench ,
+Or but allay , the fire of passion .
+
+Sir ,
+I am thankful to you , and I'll go along
+By your prescription : but this top-proud fellow
+Whom from the flow of gall I name not , but
+From sincere motions ,by intelligence ,
+And proofs as clear as founts in July , when
+We see each grain of gravel ,I do know
+To be corrupt and treasonous .
+
+Say not , 'treasonous .'
+
+To the king I'll say't ; and make my vouch as strong
+As shore of rock . Attend . This holy fox ,
+Or wolf , or both ,for he is equal ravenous
+As he is subtle , and as prone to mischief
+As able to perform 't , his mind and place
+Infecting one another , yea , reciprocally ,
+Only to show his pomp as well in France
+As here at home , suggests the king our master
+To this last costly treaty , the interview ,
+That swallow'd so much treasure , and like a glass
+Did break i' the rinsing .
+
+Faith , and so it did .
+
+Praygive me favour , sir . This cunning cardinal
+The articles o' the combination drew
+As himself pleas'd ; and they were ratified
+As he cried , 'Thus let be ,' to as much end
+As give a crutch to the dead . But our count-cardinal
+Has done this , and 'tis well ; for worthy Wolsey ,
+Who cannot err , he did it . Now this follows ,
+Which , as I take it , is a kind of puppy
+To the old dam , treason , Charles the emperor ,
+Under pretence to see the queen his aunt ,
+For 'twas indeed his colour , but he came
+To whisper Wolsey ,here makes visitation :
+His fears were , that the interview betwixt
+England and France might , through their amity ,
+Breed him some prejudice ; for from this league
+Peep'd harms that menac'd him . He privily
+Deals with our cardinal , and , as I trow ,
+Which I do well ; for , I am sure the emperor
+Paid ere he promis'd ; whereby his suit was granted
+Ere it was ask'd ; but when the way was made ,
+And pav'd with gold , the emperor thus desir'd :
+That he would please to alter the king's course ,
+And break the foresaid peace . Let the king know
+As soon he shall by me that thus the cardinal
+Does buy and sell his honour as he pleases ,
+And for his own advantage .
+
+I am sorry
+To hear this of him ; and could wish he were
+Something mistaken in 't .
+
+No , not a syllable :
+I do pronounce him in that very shape
+He shall appear in proof .
+
+
+Your office , sergeant ; execute it .
+
+Sir ,
+My Lord the Duke of Buckingham , and Earl
+Of Hereford , Stafford , and Northampton , I
+Arrest thee of high treason , in the name
+Of our most sovereign king .
+
+Lo you , my lord ,
+The net has fall'n upon me ! I shall perish
+Under device and practice .
+
+I am sorry
+To see you ta'en from liberty , to look on
+The business present . 'Tis his highness' pleasure
+You shall to the Tower .
+
+It will help me nothing
+To plead mine innocence , for that dye is on me
+Which makes my whit'st part black . The will of heaven
+Be done in this and all things ! I obey .
+O ! my Lord Abergavenny , fare you well !
+
+Nay , he must bear you company .
+
+The king
+Is pleas'd you shall to the Tower , till you know
+How he determines further .
+
+As the duke said ,
+The will of heaven be done , and the king's pleasure
+By me obey'd !
+
+Here is a warrant from
+The king to attach Lord Montacute ; and the bodies
+Of the duke's confessor , John de la Car ,
+One Gilbert Peck , his chancellor ,
+
+So , so ;
+These are the limbs o' the plot : no more , I hope .
+
+A monk o' the Chartreux .
+
+O ! Nicholas Hopkins ?
+
+He .
+
+My surveyor is false ; the o'er-great cardinal
+Hath show'd him gold . My life is spann'd already :
+I am the shadow of poor Buckingham ,
+Whose figure even this instant cloud puts on ,
+By dark'ning my clear sun . My lord , farewell .
+
+
+My life itself , and the best heart of it ,
+Thanks you for this great care : I stood i' the level
+Of a full-charg'd confederacy , and give thanks
+To you that chok'd it . Let be call'd before us
+That gentleman of Buckingham's ; in person
+I'll hear him his confessions justify ;
+And point by point the treasons of his master
+He shall again relate .
+
+Nay , we must longer kneel : I am a suitor .
+
+Arise , and take place by us : half your suit
+Never name to us ; you have half our power :
+The other moiety , ere you ask , is given ;
+Repeat your will , and take it .
+
+Thank your majesty .
+That you would love yourself , and in that love
+Not unconsider'd leave your honour , nor
+The dignity of your office , is the point
+Of my petition .
+
+Lady mine , proceed .
+
+I am solicited , not by a few ,
+And those of true condition , that your subjects
+Are in great grievance : there have been commissions
+Sent down among 'em , which hath flaw'd the heart
+Of all their loyalties : wherein , although ,
+My good Lord Cardinal , they vent reproaches
+Most bitterly on you , as putter-on
+Of these exactions , yet the king our master ,
+Whose honour heaven shield from soil !even he escapes not
+Language unmannerly ; yea , such which breaks
+The sides of loyalty , and almost appears
+In loud rebellion .
+
+Not almost appears ,
+It doth appear ; for , upon these taxations ,
+The clothiers all , not able to maintain
+The many to them 'longing , have put off
+The spinsters , carders , fullers , weavers , who ,
+Unfit for other life , compell'd by hunger
+And lack of other means , in desperate manner
+Daring the event to the teeth , are all in uproar ,
+And danger serves among them .
+
+Taxation !
+Wherein ? and what taxation ? My Lord Cardinal ,
+You that are blam'd for it alike with us ,
+Know you of this taxation ?
+
+Please you , sir ,
+I know but of a single part in aught
+Pertains to the state ; and front but in that file
+Where others tell steps with me .
+
+No , my lord ,
+You know no more than others ; but you frame
+Things that are known alike ; which are not wholesome
+To those which would not know them , and yet must
+Perforce be their acquaintance . These exactions ,
+Whereof my sov'reign would have note , they are
+Most pestilent to the hearing ; and to bear 'em ,
+The back is sacrifice to the load . They say
+They are devis'd by you , or else you suffer
+Too hard an exclamation .
+
+Still exaction !
+The nature of it ? In what kind , let's know ,
+Is this exaction ?
+
+I am much too venturous
+In tempting of your patience ; but am bolden'd
+Under your promis'd pardon . The subjects' grief
+Comes through commissions , which compel from each
+The sixth part of his substance , to be levied
+Without delay ; and the pretence for this
+Is nam'd , your wars in France . This makes bold mouths :
+Tongues spit their duties out , and cold hearts freeze
+Allegiance in them ; their curses now
+Live where their prayers did ; and it's come to pass ,
+This tractable obedience is a slave
+To each incensed will . I would your highness
+Would give it quick consideration , for
+There is no primer business .
+
+By my life ,
+This is against our pleasure .
+
+And for me ,
+I have no further gone in this than by
+A single voice , and that not pass'd me but
+By learned approbation of the judges . If I am
+Traduc'd by ignorant tongues , which neither know
+My faculties nor person , yet will be
+The chronicles of my doing , let me say
+'Tis but the fate of place , and the rough brake
+That virtue must go through . We must not stint
+Our necessary actions , in the fear
+To cope malicious censurers ; which ever ,
+As rav'nous fishes , do a vessel follow
+That is new-trimm'd , but benefit no further
+Than vainly longing . What we oft do best ,
+By sick interpreters , once weak ones , is
+Not ours , or not allow'd ; what worst , as oft ,
+Hitting a grosser quality , is cried up
+For our best act . If we shall stand still ,
+In fear our motion will be mock'd or carp'd at ,
+We should take root here where we sit , or sit
+State-statues only .
+
+Things done well ,
+And with a care , exempt themselves from fear ;
+Things done without example , in their issue
+Are to be fear'd . Have you a precedent
+Of this commission ? I believe , not any .
+We must not rend our subjects from our laws ,
+And stick them in our will . Sixth part of each ?
+A trembling contribution ! Why , we take
+From every tree , lop , bark , and part o' the timber ;
+And , though we leave it with a root , thus hack'd ,
+The air will drink the sap . To every county
+Where this is question'd , send our letters , with
+Free pardon to each man that has denied
+The force of this commission . Pray , look to 't ;
+I put it to your care .
+
+A word with you .
+Let there be letters writ to every shire ,
+Of the king's grace and pardon . The griev'd commons
+Hardly conceive of me ; let it be nois'd
+That through our intercession this revokement
+And pardon comes : I shall anon advise you
+Further in the proceeding .
+
+I am sorry that the Duke of Buckingham
+Is run in your displeasure .
+
+It grieves many :
+The gentleman is learn'd , and a most rare speaker ,
+To nature none more bound ; his training such
+That he may furnish and instruct great teachers ,
+And never seek for aid out of himself . Yet see ,
+When these so noble benefits shall prove
+Not well dispos'd , the mind growing once corrupt ,
+They turn to vicious forms , ten times more ugly
+Than ever they were fair . This man so complete ,
+Who was enroll'd 'mongst wonders , and when we ,
+Almost with ravish'd listening , could not find
+His hour of speech a minute ; he , my lady ,
+Hath into monstrous habits put the graces
+That once were his , and is become as black
+As if besmear'd in hell . Sit by us ; you shall hear
+This was his gentleman in trust of him
+Things to strike honour sad . Bid him recount
+The fore-recited practices ; whereof
+We cannot feel too little , hear too much .
+
+Stand forth ; and with bold spirit relate what you ,
+Most like a careful subject , have collected
+Out of the Duke of Buckingham .
+
+Speak freely .
+
+First , it was usual with him , every day
+It would infect his speech , that if the king
+Should without issue die , he'd carry it so
+To make the sceptre his . These very words
+I've heard him utter to his son-in-law ,
+Lord Abergavenny , to whom by oath he menac'd
+Revenge upon the cardinal .
+
+Please your highness , note
+This dangerous conception in this point .
+Not friended by his wish , to your high person
+His will is most malignant ; and it stretches
+Beyond you , to your friends .
+
+My learn'd Lord Cardinal ,
+Deliver all with charity .
+
+Speak on :
+How grounded he his title to the crown
+Upon our fail ? to this point hast thou heard him
+At any time speak aught ?
+
+He was brought to this
+By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins .
+
+What was that Hopkins ?
+
+Sir , a Chartreux friar ,
+His confessor , who fed him every minute
+With words of sovereignty .
+
+How know'st thou this ?
+
+Not long before your highness sped to France ,
+The duke being at the Rose , within the parish
+Saint Lawrence Poultney , did of me demand
+What was the speech among the Londoners
+Concerning the French journey : I replied ,
+Men fear'd the French would prove perfidious ,
+To the king's danger . Presently the duke
+Said , 'twas the fear , indeed ; and that he doubted
+'Twould prove the verity of certain words
+Spoke by a holy monk ; 'that oft ,' says he ,
+'Hath sent to me , wishing me to permit
+John de la Car , my chaplain , a choice hour
+To hear from him a matter of some moment :
+Whom after under the confession's seal
+He solemnly had sworn , that what he spoke ,
+My chaplain to no creature living but
+To me should utter , with demure confidence
+This pausingly ensu'd : neither the king nor 's heirs
+Tell you the duke shall prosper : bid him strive
+To gain the love o' the commonalty : the duke
+Shall govern England .'
+
+If I know you well ,
+You were the duke's surveyor , and lost your office
+On the complaint o' the tenants : take good heed
+You charge not in your spleen a noble person ,
+And spoil your nobler soul . I say , take heed ;
+Yes , heartily beseech you .
+
+Let him on .
+Go forward .
+
+On my soul , I'll speak but truth .
+I told my lord the duke , by the devil's illusions
+The monk might be deceiv'd ; and that 'twas dangerous for him
+To ruminate on this so far , until
+It forg'd him some design , which , being believ'd ,
+It was much like to do . He answer'd , 'Tush !
+It can do me no damage ;' adding further ,
+That had the king in his last sickness fail'd ,
+The cardinal's and Sir Thomas Lovell's heads
+Should have gone off .
+
+Ha ! what , so rank ? Ah , ha !
+There's mischief in this man . Canst thou say further ?
+
+I can , my liege .
+
+Proceed .
+
+Being at Greenwich ,
+After your highness had reprov'd the duke
+About Sir William Blomer ,
+
+I remember
+Of such a time : being my sworn servant ,
+The duke retain'd him his . But on ; what hence ?
+
+'If ,' quoth he , 'I for this had been committed ,
+As , to the Tower , I thought , I would have play'd
+The part my father meant to act upon
+The usurper Richard ; who , being at Salisbury ,
+Made suit to come in 's presence ; which if granted ,
+As he made semblance of his duty , would
+Have put his knife into him .'
+
+A giant traitor !
+
+Now , madam , may his highness live in freedom ,
+And this man out of prison ?
+
+God mend all !
+
+There's something more would out of thee ? what sayst ?
+
+After 'the duke his father ,' with 'the knife ,'
+He stretch'd him , and , with one hand on his dagger ,
+Another spread on's breast , mounting his eyes ,
+He did discharge a horrible oath ; whose tenour
+Was , were he evil us'd , he would outgo
+His father by as much as a performance
+Does an irresolute purpose .
+
+There's his period ;
+To sheathe his knife in us . He is attach'd ;
+Call him to present trial : if he may
+Find mercy in the law , 'tis his ; if none ,
+Let him not seek't of us : by day and night !
+He's traitor to the height .
+
+
+Is't possible the spells of France should juggle
+Men into such strange mysteries ?
+
+New customs ,
+Though they be never so ridiculous ,
+Nay , let 'em be unmanly , yet are follow'd .
+
+As far as I see , all the good our English
+Have got by the late voyage is but merely
+A fit or two o' the face ; but they are shrewd ones ;
+For when they hold 'em , you would swear directly
+Their very noses had been counsellors
+To Pepin or Clotharius , they keep state so .
+
+They have all new legs , and lame ones : one would take it ,
+That never saw 'em pace before , the spavin
+Or springhalt reign'd among 'em .
+
+Death ! my lord ,
+Their clothes are after such a pagan cut too ,
+That , sure , they've worn out Christendom .
+
+
+How now !
+
+What news , Sir Thomas Lovell ?
+
+Faith , my lord ,
+I hear of none , but the new proclamation
+That's clapp'd upon the court-gate .
+
+What is't for ?
+
+The reformation of our travell'd gallants ,
+That fill the court with quarrels , talk , and tailors .
+
+I am glad 'tis there : now I would pray our monsieurs
+To think an English courtier may be wise ,
+And never see the Louvre .
+
+They must either
+For so run the conditions leave those remnants
+Of fool and feather that they got in France ,
+With all their honourable points of ignorance
+Pertaining thereunto ,as fights and fireworks ;
+Abusing better men than they can be ,
+Out of a foreign wisdom ;renouncing clean
+The faith they have in tennis and tall stockings ,
+Short blister'd breeches , and those types of travel ,
+And understand again like honest men ;
+Or pack to their old playfellows : there , I take it ,
+They may , cum privilegio , wear away
+The lag end of their lewdness , and be laugh'd at .
+
+'Tis time to give 'em physic , their diseases
+Are grown so catching .
+
+What a loss our ladies
+Will have of these trim vanities !
+
+Ay , marry ,
+There will be woe indeed , lords : the sly whoresons
+Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies ;
+A French song and a fiddle has no fellow .
+
+The devil fiddle 'em ! I am glad they're going :
+For , sure , there's no converting of 'em : now
+An honest country lord , as I am , beaten
+A long time out of play , may bring his plainsong
+And have an hour of hearing ; and , by'r lady ,
+Held current music too .
+
+Well said , Lord Sands ;
+Your colt's tooth is not cast yet .
+
+No , my lord ;
+Nor shall not , while I have a stump .
+
+Sir Thomas ,
+Whither were you a-going ?
+
+To the cardinal's :
+Your lordship is a guest too .
+
+O ! 'tis true :
+This night he makes a supper , and a great one ,
+To many lords and ladies ; there will be
+The beauty of this kingdom , I'll assure you .
+
+That churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed ,
+A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us ;
+His dews fall everywhere .
+
+No doubt he's noble ;
+He had a black mouth that said other of him .
+
+He may , my lord ; he has wherewithal : in him
+Sparing would show a worse sin than ill doctrine :
+Men of his way should be most liberal ;
+They are set here for examples .
+
+True , they are so ;
+But few now give so great ones . My barge stays ;
+Your lordship shall along . Come , good Sir Thomas ,
+We shall be late else ; which I would not be ,
+For I was spoke to , with Sir Henry Guildford ,
+This night to be comptrollers .
+
+I am your lordship's .
+
+Ladies , a general welcome from his Grace
+Salutes ye all ; this night he dedicates
+To fair content and you . None here , he hopes ,
+In all this noble bevy , has brought with her
+One care abroad ; he would have all as merry
+As , first , good company , good wine , good welcome
+Can make good people .
+
+O , my lord ! you're tardy :
+The very thought of this fair company
+Clapp'd wings to me .
+
+You are young , Sir Harry Guildford .
+
+Sir Thomas Lovell , had the cardinal
+But half my lay-thoughts in him , some of these
+Should find a running banquet ere they rested ,
+I think would better please 'em : by my life ,
+They are a sweet society of fair ones .
+
+O ! that your lordship were but now confessor
+To one or two of these !
+
+I would I were ;
+They should find easy penance .
+
+Faith , how easy ?
+
+As easy as a down-bed would afford it .
+
+Sweet ladies , will it please you sit ? Sir Harry ,
+Place you that side , I'll take the charge of this ;
+His Grace is ent'ring . Nay you must not freeze ;
+Two women plac'd together makes cold weather :
+My Lord Sands , you are one will keep 'em waking ;
+Pray , sit between these ladies .
+
+By my faith ,
+And thank your lordship . By your leave , sweet ladies :
+
+If I chance to talk a little wild , forgive me ;
+I had it from my father .
+
+Was he mad , sir ?
+
+O ! very mad , exceeding mad ; in love too :
+But he would bite none ; just as I do now ,
+He would kiss you twenty with a breath .
+
+
+Well said , my lord .
+So , now you're fairly seated . Gentlemen ,
+The penance lies on you , if these fair ladies
+Pass away frowning .
+
+For my little cure ,
+Let me alone .
+
+
+You're welcome , my fair guests : that noble lady ,
+Or gentleman , that is not freely merry ,
+Is not my friend : this , to confirm my welcome ;
+And to you all , good health .
+
+
+Your Grace is noble :
+Let me have such a bowl may hold my thanks ,
+And save me so much talking .
+
+My Lord Sands ,
+I am beholding to you : cheer your neighbours .
+Ladies , you are not merry : gentlemen ,
+Whose fault is this ?
+
+The red wine first must rise
+In their fair cheeks , my lord ; then , we shall have 'em
+Talk us to silence .
+
+You are a merry gamester ,
+My Lord Sands .
+
+Yes , if I make my play .
+Here's to your ladyship ; and pledge it , madam ,
+For 'tis to such a thing ,
+
+You cannot show me .
+
+I told your Grace they would talk anon .
+
+
+What's that ?
+
+Look out there , some of ye .
+
+
+What war-like voice ,
+And to what end , is this ? Nay , ladies , fear not ;
+By all the laws of war you're privileg'd .
+
+
+How now , what is't ?
+
+A noble troop of strangers ;
+For so they seem : they've left their barge and landed ;
+And hither make , as great ambassadors
+From foreign princes .
+
+Good Lord Chamberlain ,
+Go , give 'em welcome ; you can speak the French tongue ;
+And , pray , receive 'em nobly , and conduct 'em
+Into our presence , where this heaven of beauty
+Shall shine at full upon them . Some attend him .
+
+You have now a broken banquet ; but we'll mend it .
+A good digestion to you all ; and once more
+I shower a welcome on ye ; welcome all .
+
+A noble company ! what are their pleasures ?
+
+Because they speak no English , thus they pray'd
+To tell your Grace : that , having heard by fame
+Of this so noble and so fair assembly
+This night to meet here , they could do no less ,
+Out of the great respect they bear to beauty ,
+But leave their flocks ; and , under your fair conduct ,
+Crave leave to view these ladies , and entreat
+An hour of revels with 'em .
+
+Say , Lord Chamberlain ,
+They have done my poor house grace ; for which I pay 'em
+A thousand thanks , and pray 'em take their pleasures .
+
+
+The fairest hand I ever touch'd ! O beauty ,
+Till now I never knew thee !
+
+
+My lord .
+
+Your Grace ?
+
+Pray tell them thus much from me :
+There should be one amongst 'em , by his person ,
+More worthy this place than myself ; to whom ,
+If I but knew him , with my love and duty
+I would surrender it .
+
+I will , my lord .
+
+
+What say they ?
+
+Such a one , they all confess ,
+There is , indeed ; which they would have your Grace
+Find out , and he will take it .
+
+Let me see then .
+
+By all your good leaves , gentlemen , here I'll make
+My royal choice .
+
+You have found him , cardinal .
+You hold a fair assembly ; you do well , lord :
+You are a churchman , or , I'll tell you , cardinal ,
+I should judge now unhappily .
+
+I am glad
+Your Grace is grown so pleasant .
+
+My Lord Chamberlain ,
+Prithee , come hither . What fair lady's that ?
+
+An't please your Grace , Sir Thomas Bullen's daughter ,
+The Viscount Rochford , one of her highness' women .
+
+By heaven , she is a dainty one . Sweetheart ,
+I were unmannerly to take you out ,
+And not to kiss you . A health , gentlemen !
+Let it go round .
+
+Sir Thomas Lovell , is the banquest ready
+I' the privy chamber ?
+
+Yes , my lord .
+
+Your Grace ,
+I fear , with dancing is a little heated .
+
+I fear , too much .
+
+There's fresher air , my lord ,
+In the next chamber .
+
+Lead in your ladies , every one . Sweet partner ,
+I must not yet forsake you . Let's be merry :
+Good my Lord Cardinal , I have half a dozen healths
+To drink to these fair ladies , and a measure
+To lead 'em once again ; and then let's dream
+Who's best in favour . Let the music knock it .
+
+
+Whither away so fast ?
+
+O ! God save ye .
+E'en to the hall , to hear what shall become
+Of the great Duke of Buckingham .
+
+I'll save you
+That labour , sir . All's now done but the ceremony
+Of bringing back the prisoner .
+
+Were you there ?
+
+Yes , indeed , was I .
+
+Pray speak what has happen'd .
+
+You may guess quickly what .
+
+Is he found guilty ?
+
+Yes , truly is he , and condemn'd upon't .
+
+I am sorry for 't .
+
+So are a number more .
+
+But , pray , how pass'd it ?
+
+I'll tell you in a little . The great duke
+Came to the bar ; where , to his accusations
+He pleaded still not guilty , and alleg'd
+Many sharp reasons to defeat the law .
+The king's attorney on the contrary
+Urg'd on the examinations , proofs , confessions
+Of divers witnesses , which the duke desir'd
+To have brought , viv voce , to his face :
+At which appear'd against him his surveyor ;
+Sir Gilbert Peck his chancellor ; and John Car ,
+Confessor to him ; with that devil-monk ,
+Hopkins , that made this mischief .
+
+That was he
+That fed him with his prophecies ?
+
+The same .
+All these accus'd him strongly ; which he fain
+Would have flung from him , but , indeed , he could not :
+And so his peers , upon this evidence ,
+Have found him guilty of high treason . Much
+He spoke , and learnedly , for life ; but all
+Was either pitied in him or forgotten .
+
+After all this how did he bear himself ?
+
+When he was brought again to the bar , to hear
+His knell rung out , his judgment , he was stirr'd
+With such an agony , he sweat extremely ,
+And something spoke in choler , ill , and hasty :
+But he fell to himself again , and sweetly
+In all the rest show'd a most noble patience .
+
+I do not think he fears death .
+
+Sure , he does not ;
+He never was so womanish ; the cause
+He may a little grieve at .
+
+Certainly
+The cardinal is the end of this .
+
+'Tis likely
+By all conjectures : first , Kildare's attainder ,
+Then deputy of Ireland ; who , remov'd ,
+Earl Surrey was sent thither , and in haste too ,
+Lest he should help his father .
+
+That trick of state
+Was a deep envious one .
+
+At his return ,
+No doubt he will requite it . This is noted ,
+And generally , whoever the king favours ,
+The cardinal instantly will find employment ,
+And far enough from court too .
+
+All the commons
+Hate him perniciously , and o' my conscience ,
+Wish him ten fathom deep : this duke as much
+They love and dote on ; call him bounteous Buckingham ,
+The mirror of all courtesy ;
+
+Stay there , sir ,
+And see the noble ruin'd man you speak of .
+
+Let's stand close , and behold him .
+
+All good people ,
+You that thus far have come to pity me ,
+Hear what I say , and then go home and lose me .
+I have this day receiv'd a traitor's judgment ,
+And by that name must die : yet , heaven bear witness ,
+And if I have a conscience , let it sink me ,
+Even as the axe falls , if I be not faithful !
+The law I bear no malice for my death ,
+'T has done upon the premises but justice ;
+But those that sought it I could wish more Christians :
+Be what they will , I heartily forgive 'em .
+Yet let 'em look they glory not in mischief ,
+Nor build their evils on the graves of great men ;
+For then my guiltless blood must cry against 'em .
+For further life in this world I ne'er hope ,
+Nor will I sue , although the king have mercies
+More than I dare make faults . You few that lov'd me ,
+And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham ,
+His noble friends and fellows , whom to leave
+Is only bitter to him , only dying ,
+Go with me , like good angels , to my end ;
+And , as the long divorce of steel falls on me ,
+Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice ,
+And lift my soul to heaven . Lead on , o' God's name .
+
+I do beseech your Grace , for charity ,
+If ever any malice in your heart
+Were hid against me , now to forgive me frankly .
+
+Sir Thomas Lovell , I as free forgive you
+As I would be forgiven : I forgive all .
+There cannot be those numberless offences
+'Gainst me that I cannot take peace with : no black envy
+Shall mark my grave . Commend me to his Grace ;
+And , if he speak of Buckingham , pray , tell him
+You met him half in heaven . My vows and prayers
+Yet are the king's ; and , till my soul forsake ,
+Shall cry for blessings on him : may he live
+Longer than I have time to tell his years !
+Ever belov'd and loving may his rule be !
+And when old time shall lead him to his end ,
+Goodness and he fill up one monument !
+
+To the water side I must conduct your Grace ;
+Then give my charge up to Sir Nicholas Vaux ,
+Who undertakes you to your end .
+
+Prepare there !
+The duke is coming : see the barge be ready ;
+And fit it with such furniture as suits
+The greatness of his person .
+
+Nay , Sir Nicholas ,
+Let it alone ; my state now will but mock me .
+When I came hither , I was Lord High Constable ,
+And Duke of Buckingham ; now , poor Edward Bohun :
+Yet I am richer than my base accusers ,
+That never knew what truth meant : I now seal it ;
+And with that blood will make them one day groan for't .
+My noble father , Henry of Buckingham ,
+Who first rais'd head against usurping Richard ,
+Flying for succour to his servant Banister ,
+Being distress'd , was by that wretch betray'd ,
+And without trial fell : God's peace be with him !
+Henry the Seventh succeeding , truly pitying
+My father's loss , like a most royal prince ,
+Restor'd me to my honours , and , out of ruins ,
+Made my name once more noble . Now his son ,
+Henry the Eighth , life , honour , name , and all
+That made me happy , at one stroke has taken
+For ever from the world . I had my trial ,
+And , must needs say , a noble one ; which makes me
+A little happier than my wretched father :
+Yet thus far we are one in fortunes ; both
+Fell by our servants , by those men welov'd most :
+A most unnatural and faithless service !
+Heaven has an end in all ; yet , you that hear me ,
+This from a dying man receive as certain :
+Where you are liberal of your loves and counsels
+Be sure you be not loose ; for those you make friends
+And give your hearts to , when they once perceive
+The least rub in your fortunes , fall away
+Like water from ye , never found again
+But where they mean to sink ye . All good people ,
+Pray for me ! I must now forsake ye : the last hour
+Of my long weary life is come upon me .
+Farewell :
+And when you would say something that is sad ,
+Speak how I fell . I have done ; and God forgive me !
+
+
+O ! this is full of pity ! Sir , it calls ,
+I fear , too many curses on their heads
+That were the authors .
+
+If the duke be guiltless ,
+'Tis full of woe ; yet I can give you inkling
+Of an ensuing evil , if it fall ,
+Greater than this .
+
+Good angels keep it from us !
+What may it be ? You do not doubt my faith , sir ?
+
+This secret is so weighty , 'twill require
+A strong faith to conceal it .
+
+Let me have it ;
+I do not talk much .
+
+I am confident :
+You shall , sir . Did you not of late days hear
+A buzzing of a separation
+Between the king and Katharine ?
+
+Yes , but it held not ;
+For when the king once heard it , out of anger
+He sent command to the lord mayor straight
+To stop the rumour , and allay those tongues
+That durst disperse it .
+
+But that slander , sir ,
+Is found a truth now ; for it grows again
+Fresher than e'er it was ; and held for certain
+The king will venture at it . Either the cardinal ,
+Or some about him near , have , out of malice
+To the good queen , possess'd him with a scruple
+That will undo her : to confirm this too ,
+Cardinal Campeius is arriv'd , and lately ;
+As all think , for this business .
+
+'Tis the cardinal ;
+And merely to revenge him on the emperor
+For not bestowing on him , at his asking ,
+The archbishopric of Toledo , this is purpos'd .
+
+I think you have hit the mark : but is't not cruel
+That she should feel the smart of this ? The cardinal
+Will have his will , and she must fall .
+
+'Tis woeful .
+We are too open here to argue this ;
+Let's think in private more .
+
+
+My lord , The horses your lordship sent for , with all the care I had , I saw well chosen , ridden , and furnished . They were young and handsome , and of the best breed in the north . When they were ready to set out for London , a man of my Lord Cardinal's , by commission and main power , took them from me ; with this reason : His master would be served before a subject , if not before the king ; which stopped our mouths , sir .
+I fear he will indeed . Well , let him have them :
+He will have all , I think .
+
+
+Well met , my Lord Chamberlain .
+
+Good day to both your Graces .
+
+How is the king employ'd ?
+
+I left him private ,
+Full of sad thoughts and troubles .
+
+What's the cause ?
+
+It seems the marriage with his brother's wife
+Has crept too near his conscience .
+
+No ; his conscience
+Has crept too near another lady .
+
+'Tis so :
+This is the cardinal's doing , the king-cardinal :
+That blind priest , like the eldest son of Fortune ,
+Turns what he list . The king will know him one day .
+
+Pray God he do ! he'll never know himself else .
+
+How holily he works in all his business ,
+And with what zeal ! for , now he has crack'd the league
+Between us and the emperor , the queen's great nephew ,
+He dives into the king's soul , and there scatters
+Dangers , doubts , wringing of the conscience ,
+Fears , and despairs ; and all these for his marriage :
+And out of all these , to restore the king ,
+He counsels a divorce ; a loss of her ,
+That like a jewel has hung twenty years
+About his neck , yet never lost her lustre ;
+Of her , that loves him with that excellence
+That angels love good men with ; even of her ,
+That , when the greatest stroke of fortune falls ,
+Will bless the king : and is not this course pious ?
+
+Heaven keep me from such counsel ! 'Tis most true
+These news are every where ; every tongue speaks 'em ,
+And every true heart weeps for't . All that dare
+Look into these affairs , see this main end ,
+The French king's sister . Heaven will one day open
+The king's eyes , that so long have slept upon
+This bold bad man .
+
+And free us from his slavery .
+
+We had need pray ,
+And heartily , for our deliverance ;
+Or this imperious man will work us all
+From princes into pages . All men's honours
+Lie like one lump before him , to be fashion'd
+Into what pitch he please .
+
+For me , my lords ,
+I love him not , nor fear him ; there's my creed .
+As I am made without him , so I'll stand ,
+If the king please ; his curses and his blessings
+Touch me alike , they're breath I not believe in .
+I knew him , and I know him ; so I leave him
+To him that made him proud , the pope .
+
+Let's in ;
+And with some other business put the king
+From these sad thoughts , that work too much upon him .
+My lord , you'll bear us company ?
+
+Excuse me ;
+The king hath sent me otherwhere : besides ,
+You'll find a most unfit time to disturb him :
+Health to your lordships .
+
+Thanks , my good Lord Chamberlain .
+
+How sad he looks ! sure , he is much afflicted .
+
+Who is there , ha ?
+
+Pray God he be not angry .
+
+Who's there , I say ? How dare you thrust yourselves
+Into my private meditations ?
+Who am I , ha ?
+
+A gracious king that pardons all offences
+Malice ne'er meant : our breach of duty this way
+Is business of estate ; in which we come
+To know your royal pleasure .
+
+Ye are too bold .
+Go to ; I'll make ye know your times of business :
+Is this an hour for temporal affairs , ha ?
+
+
+Who's there ? my good Lord Cardinal ? O ! my Wolsey ,
+The quiet of my wounded conscience ;
+Thou art a cure fit for a king .
+
+You're welcome ,
+Most learned reverend sir , into our kingdom :
+Use us , and it .
+
+My good lord , have great care
+
+I be not found a talker .
+
+Sir , you cannot .
+I would your Grace would give us but an hour
+Of private conference .
+
+We are busy : go .
+
+This priest has no pride in him !
+
+Not to speak of ;
+I would not be so sick though for his place :
+But this cannot continue .
+
+If it do ,
+I'll venture one have-at-him .
+
+I another .
+
+
+Your Grace has given a precedent of wisdom
+Above all princes , in committing freely
+Your scruple to the voice of Christendom .
+Who can be angry now ? what envy reach you ?
+The Spaniard , tied by blood and favour to her ,
+Must now confess , if they have any goodness ,
+The trial just and noble . All the clerks ,
+I mean the learned ones , in Christian kingdoms
+Have their free voices : Rome , the nurse of judgment ,
+Invited by your noble self , hath sent
+One general tongue unto us , this good man ,
+This just and learned priest , Cardinal Campeius ;
+Whom once more I present unto your highness .
+
+And once more in my arms I bid him welcome ,
+And thank the holy conclave for their loves :
+They have sent me such a man I would have wish'd for .
+
+Your Grace must needs deserve all strangers' loves ,
+You are so noble . To your highness' hand
+I tender my commission , by whose virtue ,
+The court of Rome commanding ,you , my Lord
+Cardinal of York , are join'd with me , their servant ,
+In the impartial judging of this business .
+
+Two equal men . The queen shall be acquainted
+Forthwith for what you come . Where's Gardiner ?
+
+I know your majesty has always lov'd her
+So dear in heart , not to deny her that
+A woman of less place might ask by law ,
+Scholars , allow'd freely to argue for her .
+
+Ay , and the best , she shall have ; and my favour
+To him that does best : God forbid else . Cardinal ,
+Prithee , call Gardiner to me , my new secretary :
+I find him a fit fellow .
+
+Give me your hand ; much joy and favour to you ;
+You are the king's now .
+
+But to be commanded
+For ever by your Grace , whose hand has rais'd me .
+
+Come hither , Gardiner .
+
+
+My Lord of York , was not one Doctor Pace
+In this man's place before him ?
+
+Yes , he was .
+
+Was he not held a learned man ?
+
+Yes , surely .
+
+Believe me , there's an ill opinion spread then
+Even of yourself , Lord Cardinal .
+
+How ! of me ?
+
+They will not stick to say , you envied him ,
+And fearing he would rise , he was so virtuous ,
+Kept him a foreign man still ; which so griev'd him
+That he ran mad and died .
+
+Heaven's peace be with him !
+That's Christian care enough : for living murmurers
+There's places of rebuke . He was a fool ,
+For he would needs be virtuous : that good fellow ,
+If I command him , follows my appointment :
+I will have none so near else . Learn this , brother ,
+We live not to be grip'd by meaner persons .
+
+Deliver this with modesty to the queen .
+
+The most convenient place that I can think of
+For such receipt of learning , is Black-Friars ;
+There ye shall meet about this weighty business .
+My Wolsey , see it furnish'd . O my lord !
+Would it not grieve an able man to leave
+So sweet a bedfellow ? But , conscience , conscience !
+O ! 'tis a tender place , and I must leave her .
+
+
+Not for that neither : here's the pang that pinches :
+His highness having liv'd so long with her , and she
+So good a lady that no tongue could ever
+Pronounce dishonour of her ; by my life ,
+She never knew harm-doing ; O ! now , after
+So many courses of the sun enthron'd ,
+Still growing in a majesty and pomp , the which
+To leave a thousand-fold more bitter than
+'Tis sweet at first to acquire , after this process
+To give her the avaunt ! it is a pity
+Would move a monster .
+
+Hearts of most hard temper
+Melt and lament for her .
+
+O ! God's will ; much better
+She ne'er had known pomp : though 't be temporal ,
+Yet , if that quarrel , Fortune , do divorce
+It from the bearer , 'tis a sufferance panging
+As soul and body's severing .
+
+Alas ! poor lady ,
+She's a stranger now again .
+
+So much the more
+Must pity drop upon her . Verily ,
+I swear , 'tis better to be lowly born ,
+And range with humble livers in content ,
+Than to be perk'd up in a glist'ring grief
+And wear a golden sorrow .
+
+Our content
+Is our best having .
+
+By my troth and maidenhead
+I would not be a queen .
+
+Beshrew me , I would ,
+And venture maidenhead for't ; and so would you ,
+For all this spice of your hypocrisy .
+You , that have so fair parts of woman on you ,
+Have too a woman's heart ; which ever yet
+Affected eminence , wealth , sovereignty :
+Which , to say sooth , are blessings , and which gifts
+Saving your mincing the capacity
+Of your soft cheveril conscience would receive ,
+If you might please to stretch it .
+
+Nay , good troth .
+
+Yes , troth , and troth ; you would not be a queen ?
+
+No , not for all the riches under heaven .
+
+'Tis strange : a three-pence bow'd would hire me ,
+Old as I am , to queen it . But , I pray you ,
+What think you of a duchess ? have you limbs
+To bear that load of title ?
+
+No , in truth .
+
+Then you are weakly made . Pluck off a little :
+I would not be a young count in your way ,
+For more than blushing comes to : if your back
+Cannot vouchsafe this burden , 'tis too weak
+Ever to get a boy .
+
+How you do talk !
+I swear again , I would not be a queen
+For all the world .
+
+In faith , for little England
+You'd venture an emballing : I myself
+Would for Carnarvonshire , although there 'long'd
+No more to the crown but that . Lo ! who comes here ?
+
+
+Good morrow , ladies . What were't worth to know
+The secret of your conference ?
+
+My good lord ,
+Not your demand ; it values not your asking :
+Our mistress' sorrows we were pitying .
+
+It was a gentle business , and becoming
+The action of good women : there is hope
+All will be well .
+
+Now , I pray God , amen !
+
+You bear a gentle mind , and heavenly blessings
+Follow such creatures . That you may , fair lady ,
+Perceive I speak sincerely , and high note's
+Ta'en of your many virtues , the king's majesty
+Commends his good opinion of you , and
+Does purpose honour to you no less flowing
+Than Marchioness of Pembroke ; to which title
+A thousand pound a year , annual support ,
+Out of his grace he adds .
+
+I do not know
+What kind of my obedience I should tender ;
+More than my all is nothing , nor my prayers
+Are not words duly hallow'd , nor my wishes
+More worth than empty vanities ; yet prayers and wishes
+Are all I can return . Beseech your lordship ,
+Vouchsafe to speak my thanks and my obedience ,
+As from a blushing handmaid , to his highness ,
+Whose health and royalty I pray for .
+
+Lady ,
+I shall not fail to approve the fair conceit
+The king hath of you .
+
+I have perus'd her well ;
+Beauty and honour in her are so mingled
+That they have caught the king ; and who knows yet
+But from this lady may proceed a gem
+To lighten all this isle ?
+
+I'll to the king ,
+And say , I spoke with you .
+
+My honour'd lord .
+
+
+Why , this it is ; see , see !
+I have been begging sixteen years in court ,
+Am yet a courtier beggarly , nor could
+Come pat betwixt too early and too late ;
+For any suit of pounds ; and you , O fate !
+A very fresh-fish here ,fie , fie , upon
+This compell'd fortune !have your mouth fill'd up
+Before you open it .
+
+This is strange to me .
+
+How tastes it ? is it bitter ? forty pence , no .
+There was a lady once ,'tis an old story ,
+That would not be a queen , that would she not ,
+For all the mud in Egypt : have you heard it ?
+
+Come , you are pleasant .
+
+With your theme I could
+O'ermount the lark . The Marchioness of Pembroke !
+A thousand pounds a year , for pure respect !
+No other obligation ! By my life
+That promises more thousands : honour's train
+Is longer than his foreskirt . By this time
+I know your back will bear a duchess : say ,
+Are you not stronger than you were ?
+
+Good lady ,
+Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy ,
+And leave me out on't . Would I had no being ,
+If this salute my blood a jot : it faints me ,
+To think what follows .
+The queen is comfortless , and we forgetful
+In our long absence . Pray , do not deliver
+What here you've heard to her .
+
+What do you think me ?
+
+
+Whilst our commission from Rome is read ,
+Let silence be commanded .
+
+What's the need ?
+It hath already publicly been read ,
+And on all sides the authority allow'd ;
+You may then spare that time .
+
+Be't so . Proceed .
+
+Say , Henry King of England , come into the court .
+
+Henry King of England , come into the court .
+
+Here .
+
+Say , Katharine Queen of England , come into the court .
+
+Katharine Queen of England , come into the court .
+
+Sir , I desire you do me right and justice ;
+And to bestow your pity on me ; for
+I am a most poor woman , and a stranger ,
+Born out of your dominions ; having here
+No judge indifferent , nor no more assurance
+Of equal friendship and proceeding . Alas ! sir ,
+In what have I offended you ? what cause
+Hath my behaviour given to your displeasure ,
+That thus you should proceed to put me off
+And take your good grace from me ? Heaven witness ,
+I have been to you a true and humble wife ,
+At all times to your will conformable ;
+Ever in fear to kindle your dislike ,
+Yea , subject to your countenance , glad or sorry
+As I saw it inclin'd . When was the hour
+I ever contradicted your desire ,
+Or made it not mine too ? Or which of your friends
+Have I not strove to love , although I knew
+He were mine enemy ? what friend of mine
+That had to him deriv'd your anger , did I
+Continue in my liking ? nay , gave notice
+He was from thence discharg'd . Sir , call to mind
+That I have been your wife , in this obedience
+Upward of twenty years , and have been blest
+With many children by you : if , in the course
+And process of this time , you can report ,
+And prove it too , against mine honour aught ,
+My bond to wedlock , or my love and duty ,
+Against your sacred person , in God's name
+Turn me away ; and let the foul'st contempt
+Shut door upon me , and so give me up
+To the sharp'st kind of justice . Please you , sir ,
+The king , your father , was reputed for
+A prince most prudent , of an excellent
+And unmatch'd wit and judgment : Ferdinand ,
+My father , King of Spain , was reckon'd one
+The wisest prince that there had reign'd by many
+A year before : it is not to be question'd
+That they had gather'd a wise council to them
+Of every realm , that did debate this business ,
+Who deem'd our marriage lawful . Wherefore I humbly
+Beseech you , sir , to spare me , till I may
+Be by my friends in Spain advis'd , whose counsel
+I will implore : if not , i' the name of God ,
+Your pleasure be fulfill'd !
+
+You have here , lady ,
+And of your choice ,these reverend fathers ; men
+Of singular integrity and learning ,
+Yea , the elect o' the land , who are assembled
+To plead your cause . It shall be therefore bootless
+That longer you desire the court , as well
+For your own quiet , as to rectify
+What is unsettled in the king .
+
+His Grace
+Hath spoken well and justly : therefore , madam ,
+It's fit this royal session do proceed ,
+And that , without delay , their arguments
+Be now produc'd and heard .
+
+Lord Cardinal ,
+To you I speak .
+
+Your pleasure , madam ?
+
+Sir ,
+I am about to weep ; but , thinking that
+We are a queen ,or long have dream'd so ,certain
+The daughter of a king , my drops of tears
+I'll turn to sparks of fire .
+
+Be patient yet .
+
+I will , when you are humble ; nay , before ,
+Or God will punish me . I do believe ,
+Induc'd by potent circumstances , that
+You are mine enemy ; and make my challenge
+You shall not be my judge ; for it is you
+Have blown this coal betwixt my lord and me ,
+Which God's dew quench ! Therefore I say again ,
+I utterly abhor , yea , from my soul
+Refuse you for my judge , whom , yet once more ,
+I hold my most malicious foe , and think not
+At all a friend to truth .
+
+I do profess
+You speak not like yourself ; who ever yet
+Have stood to charity , and display'd the effects
+Of disposition gentle , and of wisdom
+O'ertopping woman's power . Madam , you do me wrong :
+I have no spleen against you ; nor injustice
+For you or any : how far I have proceeded ,
+Or how far further shall , is warranted
+By a commission from the consistory ,
+Yea , the whole consistory of Rome . You charge me
+That I have blown this coal : I do deny it .
+The king is present : if it be known to him
+That I gainsay my deed , how may he wound ,
+And worthily , my falsehood ; yea , as much
+As you have done my truth . If he know
+That I am free of your report , he knows
+I am not of your wrong . Therefore in him
+It lies to cure me ; and the cure is , to
+Remove these thoughts from you : the which before
+His highness shall speak in , I do beseech
+You , gracious madam , to unthink your speaking ,
+And to say so no more .
+
+My lord , my lord ,
+I am a simple woman , much too weak
+To oppose your cunning . You're meek and humble-mouth'd ;
+You sign your place and calling , in full seeming ,
+With meekness and humility ; but your heart
+Is cramm'd with arrogancy , spleen , and pride .
+You have , by fortune and his highness' favours ,
+Gone slightly o'er low steps , and now are mounted
+Where powers are your retainers , and your words ,
+Domestics to you , serve your will as't please
+Yourself pronounce their office . I must tell you ,
+You tender more your person's honour than
+Your high profession spiritual ; that again
+I do refuse you for my judge ; and here ,
+Before you all , appeal unto the pope ,
+To bring my whole cause 'fore his holiness ,
+And to be judg'd by him .
+
+
+The queen is obstinate ,
+Stubborn to justice , apt to accuse it , and
+Disdainful to be tried by't : 'tis not well .
+She's going away .
+
+Call her again .
+
+Katharine Queen of England , come into the court .
+
+Madam , you are call'd back .
+
+What need you note it ? pray you , keep your way :
+When you are call'd , return . Now , the Lord help !
+They vex me past my patience . Pray you , pass on :
+I will not tarry ; no , nor ever more
+Upon this business my appearance make
+In any of their courts .
+
+
+Go thy ways , Kate :
+That man i' the world who shall report he has
+A better wife , let him in nought be trusted ,
+For speaking false in that : thou art , alone ,
+If thy rare qualities , sweet gentleness ,
+Thy meekness saint-like , wife-like government ,
+Obeying in commanding , and thy parts
+Sovereign and pious else , could speak thee out ,
+The queen of earthly queens . She's noble born ;
+And , like her true nobility , she has
+Carried herself towards me .
+
+Most gracious sir ,
+In humblest manner I require your highness ,
+That it shall please you to declare , in hearing
+Of all these ears ,for where I am robb'd and bound
+There must I be unloos'd , although not there
+At once , and fully satisfied ,whether ever I
+Did broach this business to your highness , or
+Laid any scruple in your way , which might
+Induce you to the question on't ? or ever
+Have to you , but with thanks to God for such
+A royal lady , spake one the least word that might
+Be to the prejudice of her present state ,
+Or touch of her good person ?
+
+My Lord Cardinal ,
+I do excuse you ; yea , upon mine honour ,
+I free you from't . You are not to be taught
+That you have many enemies , that know not
+Why they are so , but , like to village curs ,
+Bark when their fellows do : by some of these
+The queen is put in anger . You're excus'd :
+But will you be more justified ? you ever
+Have wish'd the sleeping of this business ; never
+Desir'd it to be stirr'd ; but oft have hinder'd , oft ,
+The passages made toward it . On my honour ,
+I speak my good Lord Cardinal to this point ,
+And thus far clear him . Now , what mov'd me to't ,
+I will be bold with time and your attention :
+Then mark the inducement . Thus it came ; give heed to't :
+My conscience first receiv'd a tenderness ,
+Scruple , and prick , on certain speeches utter'd
+By the Bishop of Bayonne , then French ambassador ,
+Who had been hither sent on the debating
+A marriage 'twixt the Duke of Orleans and
+Our daughter Mary . I' the progress of this business ,
+Ere a determinate resolution , he
+I mean , the bishop did require a respite ;
+Wherein he might the king his lord advertise
+Whether our daughter were legitimate ,
+Respecting this our marriage with the dowager ,
+Sometimes our brother's wife . This respite shook
+The bosom of my conscience , enter'd me ,
+Yea , with a splitting power , and made to tremble
+The region of my breast ; which forc'd such way ,
+That many maz'd considerings did throng ,
+And press'd in with this caution . First , methought
+I stood not in the smile of heaven , who had
+Commanded nature , that my lady's womb ,
+If it conceiv'd a male child by me , should
+Do no more offices of life to't than
+The grave does to the dead ; for her male issue
+Or died where they were made , or shortly after
+This world had air'd them . Hence I took a thought
+This was a judgment on me ; that my kingdom ,
+Well worthy the best heir o' the world , should not
+Be gladded in't by me . Then follows that
+I weigh'd the danger which my realms stood in
+By this my issue's fail ; and that gave to me
+Many a groaning throe . Thus hulling in
+The wild sea of my conscience , I did steer
+Toward this remedy , whereupon we are
+Now present here together ; that's to say ,
+I meant to rectify my conscience , which
+I then did feel full sick , and yet not well ,
+By all the rev'rend fathers of the land
+And doctors learn'd . First , I began in private
+With you , my Lord of Lincoln ; you remember
+How under my oppression I did reek ,
+When I first mov'd you .
+
+Very well , my liege .
+
+I have spoke long : be pleas'd yourself to say
+How far you satisfied me .
+
+So please your highness ,
+The question did at first so stagger me ,
+Bearing a state of mighty moment in't ,
+And consequence of dread , that I committed
+The daring'st counsel that I had to doubt ;
+And did entreat your highness to this course
+Which you are running here .
+
+Then I mov'd you ,
+My Lord of Canterbury , and got your leave
+To make this present summons . Unsolicited
+I left no reverend person in this court ;
+But by particular consent proceeded
+Under your hands and seals : therefore , go on ;
+For no dislike i' the world against the person
+Of the good queen , but the sharp thorny points
+Of my alleged reasons drive this forward .
+Prove but our marriage lawful , by my life
+And kingly dignity , we are contented
+To wear our mortal state to come with her ,
+Katharine our queen , before the primest creature
+That's paragon'd o' the world .
+
+So please your highness ,
+The queen being absent , 'tis a needful fitness
+That we adjourn this court till further day :
+Mean while must be an earnest motion
+Made to the queen , to call back her appeal
+She intends unto his holiness .
+
+
+I may perceive
+These cardinals trifle with me : I abhor
+This dilatory sloth and tricks of Rome .
+My learn'd and well-beloved servant Cranmer ,
+Prithee , return : with thy approach , I know ,
+My comfort comes along . Break up the court :
+I say , set on .
+
+
+Take thy lute , wench : my soul grows sad with troubles ;
+Sing and disperse 'em , if thou canst . Leave working .
+
+Orpheus with his lute made trees ,
+And the mountain tops that freeze ,
+Bow themselves , when he did sing :
+To his music plants and flowers
+Ever sprung ; as sun and showers
+There had made a lasting spring .
+Every thing that heard him play ,
+Even the billows of the sea ,
+Hung their heads , and then lay by .
+In sweet music is such art ,
+Killing care and grief of heart
+Fall asleep , or hearing , die .
+
+
+How now !
+
+An't please your Grace , the two great cardinals
+Wait in the presence .
+
+Would they speak with me ?
+
+They will'd me say so , madam .
+
+Pray their Graces
+To come near .
+
+What can be their business
+With me , a poor weak woman , fall'n from favour ?
+I do not like their coming , now I think on't .
+They should be good men , their affairs as righteous ;
+But all hoods make not monks .
+
+
+Peace to your highness !
+
+Your Graces find me here part of a housewife ,
+I would be all , against the worst may happen .
+What are your pleasures with me , reverend lords ?
+
+May it please you , noble madam , to withdraw
+Into your private chamber , we shall give you
+The full cause of our coming .
+
+Speak it here ;
+There's nothing I have done yet , o' my conscience ,
+Deserves a corner : would all other women
+Could speak this with as free a soul as I do !
+My lords , I care not so much I am happy
+Above a number if my actions
+Were tried by every tongue , every eye saw 'em ,
+Envy and base opinion set against 'em ,
+I know my life so even . If your business
+Seek me out , and that way I am wife in ,
+Out with it boldly : truth loves open dealing .
+
+Tanta est erga te mentis integritas , regina serenissima ,
+
+O , good my lord , no Latin ;
+I am not such a truant since my coming
+As not to know the language I have liv'd in :
+A strange tongue makes my cause more strange , suspicious ;
+Pray , speak in English : here are some will thank you ,
+If you speak truth , for their poor mistress' sake :
+Believe me , she has had much wrong . Lord Cardinal ,
+The willing'st sin I ever yet committed
+May be absolv'd in English .
+
+Noble lady ,
+I am sorry my integrity should breed ,
+And service to his majesty and you ,
+So deep suspicion , where all faith was meant .
+We come not by the way of accusation ,
+To taint that honour every good tongue blesses ,
+Nor to betray you any way to sorrow ,
+You have too much , good lady ; but to know
+How you stand minded in the weighty difference
+Between the king and you ; and to deliver ,
+Like free and honest men , our just opinions
+And comforts to your cause .
+
+Most honour'd madam ,
+My Lord of York , out of his noble nature ,
+Zeal and obedience he still bore your Grace ,
+Forgetting , like a good man , your late censure
+Both of his truth and him ,which was too far ,
+Offers , as I do , in sign of peace ,
+His service and his counsel .
+
+To betray me .
+My lords , I thank you both for your good wills ;
+Ye speak like honest men ,pray God , ye prove so !
+But how to make ye suddenly an answer ,
+In such a point of weight , so near mine honour ,
+More near my life , I fear ,with my weak wit ,
+And to such men of gravity and learning ,
+In truth , I know not . I was set at work
+Among my maids ; full little , God knows , looking
+Either for such men or such business .
+For her sake that I have been ,for I feel
+The last fit of my greatness ,good your Graces
+Let me have time and counsel for my cause :
+Alas ! I am a woman , friendless , hopeless .
+
+Madam , you wrong the king's love with these fears :
+Your hopes and friends are infinite .
+
+In England
+But little for my profit . Can you think , lords ,
+That any Englishman dare give me counsel ?
+Or be a known friend , 'gainst his highness' pleasure ,
+Though he be grown so desperate to be honest ,
+And live a subject ? Nay , forsooth , my friends ,
+They that must weigh out my afflictions ,
+They that my trust must grow to , live not here :
+They are , as all my other comforts , far hence
+In mine own country , lords .
+
+I would your Grace
+Would leave your griefs , and take my counsel .
+
+How , sir ?
+
+Put your main cause into the king's protection ;
+He's loving and most gracious : 'twill be much
+Both for your honour better and your cause ;
+For if the trial of the law o'ertake ye ,
+You'll part away disgrac'd .
+
+He tells you rightly .
+
+Ye tell me what ye wish for both ; my ruin .
+Is this your Christian counsel ? out upon ye !
+Heaven is above all yet ; there sits a judge
+That no king can corrupt .
+
+Your rage mistakes us .
+
+The more shame for ye ! holy men I thought ye ,
+Upon my soul , two reverend cardinal virtues ;
+But cardinal sins and hollow hearts I fear ye .
+Mend 'em , for shame , my lords . Is this your comfort ?
+The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady ,
+A woman lost among ye , laugh'd at , scorn'd ?
+I will not wish ye half my miseries ,
+I have more charity ; but say , I warn'd ye :
+Take heed , for heaven's sake , take heed , lest at once
+The burden of my sorrows fall upon ye .
+
+Madam , this is a mere distraction ;
+You turn the good we offer into envy .
+
+Ye turn me into nothing : woe upon ye ,
+And all such false professors ! Would ye have me ,
+If ye have any justice , any pity ;
+If ye be anything but churchmen's habits ,
+Put my sick cause into his hands that hates me ?
+Alas ! he has banish'd me his bed already ,
+His love , too long ago ! I am old , my lords ,
+And all the fellowship I hold now with him
+Is only my obedience . What can happen
+To me above this wretchedness ? all your studies
+Make me a curse like this .
+
+Your fears are worse .
+
+Have I liv'd thus long let me speak myself ,
+Since virtue finds no friends a wife , a true one ?
+A woman , I dare say without vain-glory ,
+Never yet branded with suspicion ?
+Have I with all my full affections
+Still met the king ? lov'd him next heaven ? obey'd him ?
+Been , out of fondness , superstitious to him ?
+Almost forgot my prayers to content him ?
+And am I thus rewarded ? 'tis not well , lords .
+Bring me a constant woman to her husband ,
+One that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure ,
+And to that woman , when she has done most ,
+Yet will I add an honour , a great patience .
+
+Madam , you wander from the good we aim at .
+
+My lord , I dare not make myself so guilty ,
+To give up willingly that noble title
+Your master wed me to : nothing but death
+Shall e'er divorce my dignities .
+
+Pray hear me .
+
+Would I had never trod this English earth ,
+Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it !
+Ye have angels' faces , but heaven knows your hearts .
+What will become of me now , wretched lady ?
+I am the most unhappy woman living .
+
+
+Alas ! poor wenches , where are now your fortunes ?
+Shipwrack'd upon a kingdom , where no pity ,
+No friends , no hope ; no kindred weep for me ;
+Almost no grave allow'd me . Like the lily ,
+That once was mistress of the field and flourish'd ,
+I'll hang my head and perish .
+
+If your Grace
+Could but be brought to know our ends are honest ,
+You'd feel more comfort . Why should we , good lady ,
+Upon what cause , wrong you ? alas ! our places ,
+The way of our profession is against it :
+We are to cure such sorrows , not to sow them .
+For goodness' sake , consider what you do ;
+How you may hurt yourself , ay , utterly
+Grow from the king's acquaintance , by this carriage .
+The hearts of princes kiss obedience ,
+So much they love it ; but to stubborn spirits
+They swell , and grow as terrible as storms .
+I know you have a gentle , noble temper ,
+A soul as even as a calm : pray think us
+Those we profess , peace-makers , friends , and servants .
+
+Madam , you'll find it so . You wrong your virtues
+With these weak women's fears : a noble spirit ,
+As yours was put into you , ever casts
+Such doubts , as false coin , from it . The king loves you ;
+Beware you lose it not : for us , if you please
+To trust us in your business , we are ready
+To use our utmost studies in your service .
+
+Do what ye will , my lords : and , pray , forgive me
+If I have us'd myself unmannerly .
+You know I am a woman , lacking wit
+To make a seemly answer to such persons .
+Pray do my service to his majesty :
+He has my heart yet ; and shall have my prayers
+While I shall have my life . Come , reverend fathers ,
+Bestow your counsels on me : she now begs
+That little thought , when she set footing here ,
+She should have bought her dignities so dear .
+
+
+If you will now unite in your complaints ,
+And force them with a constancy , the cardinal
+Cannot stand under them : if you omit
+The offer of this time , I cannot promise
+But that you shall sustain moe new disgraces
+With these you bear already .
+
+I am joyful
+To meet the least occasion that may give me
+Remembrance of my father-in-law , the duke ,
+To be reveng'd on him .
+
+Which of the peers
+Have uncontemn'd gone by him , or at least
+Strangely neglected ? when did he regard
+The stamp of nobleness in any person ,
+Out of himself ?
+
+My lords , you speak your pleasures :
+What he deserves of you and me , I know ;
+What we can do to him ,though now the time
+Gives way to us ,I much fear . If you cannot
+Bar his access to the king , never attempt
+Any thing on him , for he hath a witchcraft
+Over the king in's tongue .
+
+O ! fear him not ;
+His spell in that is out : the king hath found
+Matter against him that for ever mars
+The honey of his language . No , he's settled ,
+Not to come off , in his displeasure .
+
+Sir ,
+I should be glad to hear such news as this
+Once every hour .
+
+Believe it , this is true :
+In the divorce his contrary proceedings
+Are all unfolded ; wherein he appears
+As I would wish mine enemy .
+
+How came
+His practices to light ?
+
+Most strangely .
+
+O ! how ? how ?
+
+The cardinal's letter to the pope miscarried ,
+And came to the eye o' the king ; wherein was read ,
+That the cardinal did entreat his holiness
+To stay the judgment o' the divorce ; for if
+It did take place , 'I do ,' quoth he , 'perceive
+My king is tangled in affection to
+A creature of the queen's , Lady Anne Bullen .'
+
+Has the king this ?
+
+Believe it .
+
+Will this work ?
+
+The king in this perceives him , how he coasts
+And hedges his own way . But in this point
+All his tricks founder , and he brings his physic
+After his patient's death : the king already
+Hath married the fair lady .
+
+Would he had !
+
+May you be happy in your wish , my lord !
+For I profess , you have it .
+
+Now all my joy
+Trace the conjunction !
+
+My amen to't !
+
+All men's .
+
+There's order given for her coronation :
+Marry , this is yet but young , and may be left
+To some ears unrecounted . But , my lords ,
+She is a gallant creature , and complete
+In mind and feature : I persuade me , from her
+Will fall some blessing to this land , which shall
+In it be memoriz'd .
+
+But will the king
+Digest this letter of the cardinal's ?
+The Lord forbid !
+
+Marry , amen !
+
+No , no ;
+There be moe wasps that buzz about his nose
+Will make this sting the sooner . Cardinal Campeius
+Is stol'n away to Rome ; hath ta'en no leave ;
+Has left the cause o' the king unhandled ; and
+Is posted , as the agent of our cardinal ,
+To second all his plot . I do assure you
+The king cried Ha ! at this .
+
+Now , God incense him ,
+And let him cry Ha ! louder .
+
+But , my lord ,
+When returns Cranmer ?
+
+He is return'd in his opinions , which
+Have satisfied the king for his divorce ,
+Together with all famous colleges
+Almost in Christendom . Shortly , I believe ,
+His second marriage shall be publish'd , and
+Her coronation . Katharine no more
+Shall be call'd queen , but princess dowager ,
+And widow to Prince Arthur .
+
+This same Cranmer's
+A worthy fellow , and hath ta'en much pain
+In the king's business .
+
+He has ; and we shall see him
+For it an archbishop .
+
+So I hear .
+
+'Tis so .
+The cardinal !
+
+
+Observe , observe ; he's moody .
+
+The packet , Cromwell ,
+Gave't you the king ?
+
+To his own hand , in his bedchamber .
+
+Look'd he o' the inside of the paper ?
+
+Presently
+He did unseal them ; and the first he view'd ,
+He did it with a serious mind ; a heed
+Was in his countenance . You he bade
+Attend him here this morning .
+
+Is he ready
+To come abroad ?
+
+I think , by this he is .
+
+Leave me awhile .
+
+It shall be to the Duchess of Alen on ,
+The French King's sister ; he shall marry her .
+Anne Bullen ! No ; I'll no Anne Bullens for him :
+There's more in't than fair visage . Bullen !
+No , we'll no Bullens . Speedily I wish
+To hear from Rome . The Marchioness of Pembroke !
+
+He's discontented .
+
+May be he hears the king
+Does whet his anger to him .
+
+Sharp enough ,
+Lord , for thy justice !
+
+The late queen's gentlewoman , a knight's daughter ,
+To be her mistress' mistress ! the queen's queen !
+This candle burns not clear : 'tis I must snuff it ;
+Then , out it goes . What though I know her virtuous
+And well deserving ? yet I know her for
+A spleeny Lutheran ; and not wholesome to
+Our cause , that she should lie i' the bosom of
+Our hard-rul'd king . Again , there is sprung up
+A heretic , an arch one , Cranmer ; one
+Hath crawl'd into the favour of the king ,
+And is his oracle .
+
+He is vex'd at something .
+
+I would 'twere something that would fret the string ,
+The master-cord on's heart !
+
+
+The king , the king !
+
+What piles of wealth hath he accumulated
+To his own portion ! and what expense by the hour
+Seems to flow from him ! How , i' the name of thrift ,
+Does he rake this together ? Now , my lords ,
+Saw you the cardinal ?
+
+My lord , we have
+Stood here observing him ; some strange commotion
+Is in his brain : he bites his lip , and starts ;
+Stops on a sudden , looks upon the ground ,
+Then lays his finger on his temple ; straight
+Springs out into fast gait ; then stops again ,
+Strikes his breast hard ; and anon he casts
+His eye against the moon : in most strange postures
+We have seen him set himself .
+
+It may well be :
+There is a mutiny in 's mind . This morning
+Papers of state he sent me to peruse ,
+As I requir'd ; and wot you what I found
+There , on my conscience , put unwittingly ?
+Forsooth , an inventory , thus importing ;
+The several parcels of his plate , his treasure ,
+Rich stuffs and ornaments of household , which
+I find at such a proud rate that it out-speaks
+Possession of a subject .
+
+It's heaven's will :
+Some spirit put this paper in the packet
+To bless your eye withal .
+
+If we did think
+His contemplation were above the earth ,
+And fix'd on spiritual object , he should still
+Dwell in his musings : but I am afraid
+His thinkings are below the moon , not worth
+His serious considering .
+
+
+Heaven forgive me !
+Ever God bless your highness !
+
+Good my lord ,
+You are full of heavenly stuff , and bear the inventory
+Of your best graces in your mind , the which
+You were now running o'er : you have scarce time
+To steal from spiritual leisure a brief span
+To keep your earthly audit : sure , in that
+I deem you an ill husband , and am glad
+To have you therein my companion .
+
+Sir ,
+For holy offices I have a time ; a time
+To think upon the part of business which
+I bear i' the state ; and nature does require
+Her times of preservation , which perforce
+I , her frail son , amongst my brethren mortal ,
+Must give my tendance to .
+
+You have said well .
+
+And ever may your highness yoke together ,
+As I will lend you cause , my doing well
+With my well saying !
+
+'Tis well said again ;
+And 'tis a kind of good deed to say well :
+And yet words are no deeds . My father lov'd you :
+He said he did ; and with his deed did crown
+His word upon you . Since I had my office ,
+I have kept you next my heart ; have not alone
+Employ'd you where high profits might come home ,
+But par'd my present havings , to bestow
+My bounties upon you .
+
+What should this mean ?
+
+The Lord increase this business !
+
+Have I not made you
+The prime man of the state ? I pray you , tell me
+If what I now pronounce you have found true ;
+And if you may confess it , say withal ,
+If you are bound to us or no . What say you ?
+
+My sovereign , I confess your royal graces ,
+Shower'd on me daily , have been more than could
+My studied purposes requite ; which went
+Beyond all man's endeavours : my endeavours
+Have ever come too short of my desires ,
+Yet fil'd with my abilities . Mine own ends
+Have been mine so , that evermore they pointed
+To the good of your most sacred person and
+The profit of the state . For your great graces
+Heap'd upon me , poor undeserver , I
+Can nothing render but allegiant thanks ,
+My prayers to heaven for you , my loyalty ,
+Which ever has and ever shall be growing ,
+Till death , that winter , kill it .
+
+Fairly answer'd ;
+A loyal and obedient subject is
+Therein illustrated ; the honour of it
+Does pay the act of it , as , i' the contrary ,
+The foulness is the punishment . I presume
+That as my hand has open'd bounty to you ,
+My heart dropp'd love , my power rain'd honour , more
+On you than any ; so your hand and heart ,
+Your brain , and every function of your power ,
+Should , notwithstanding that your bond of duty ,
+As 'twere in love's particular , be more
+To me , your friend , than any .
+
+I do profess ,
+That for your highness' good I ever labour'd
+More than mine own ; that am , have , and will be .
+Though all the world should crack their duty to you ,
+And throw it from their soul ; though perils did
+Abound as thick as thought could make 'em , and
+Appear in forms more horrid , yet my duty ,
+As doth a rock against the chiding flood ,
+Should the approach of this wild river break ,
+And stand unshaken yours .
+
+'Tis nobly spoken .
+Take notice , lords , he has a loyal breast ,
+For you have seen him open't . Read o'er this ;
+
+And after , this : and then to breakfast with
+What appetite you have .
+
+
+What should this mean ?
+What sudden anger's this ? how have I reap'd it ?
+He parted frowning from me , as if ruin
+Leap'd from his eyes : so looks the chafed lion
+Upon the daring huntsman that has gall'd him ;
+Then makes him nothing . I must read this paper ;
+I fear , the story of his anger . 'Tis so ;
+This paper has undone me ! 'Tis the account
+Of all that world of wealth I have drawn together
+For mine own ends ; indeed , to gain the popedom ,
+And fee my friends in Rome . O negligence !
+Fit for a fool to fall by : what cross devil
+Made me put this main secret in the packet
+I sent the king ? Is there no way to cure this ?
+No new device to beat this from his brains ?
+I know 'twill stir him strongly ; yet I know
+A way , if it take right , in spite of fortune
+Will bring me off again . What's this ?'To the Pope !'
+The letter , as I live , with all the business
+I writ to's holiness . Nay then , farewell !
+I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness ;
+And from that full meridian of my glory ,
+I haste now to my setting : I shall fall
+Like a bright exhalation in the evening ,
+And no man see me more .
+
+
+Hear the king's pleasure , cardinal : who commands you
+To render up the great seal presently
+Into our hands ; and to confine yourself
+To Asher-house , my Lord of Winchester's ,
+Till you hear further from his highness .
+
+Stay ,
+Where's your commission , lord ? words cannot carry
+Authority so weighty .
+
+Who dare cross 'em ,
+Bearing the king's will from his mouth expressly ?
+
+Till I find more than will or words to do it ,
+I mean your malice , know , officious lords ,
+I dare and must deny it . Now I feel
+Of what coarse metal ye are moulded , envy :
+How eagerly ye follow my disgraces ,
+As if it fed ye ! and how sleek and wanton
+Ye appear in every thing may bring my ruin
+Follow your envious courses , men of malice ;
+You have Christian warrant for 'em , and , no doubt ,
+In time will find their fit rewards . That seal
+You ask with such a violence , the king
+Mine and your master with his own hand gave me ;
+Bade me enjoy it with the place and honours
+During my life ; and to confirm his goodness ,
+Tied it by letters-patents : now who'll take it ?
+
+The king , that gave it .
+
+It must be himself then .
+
+Thou art a proud traitor , priest .
+
+Proud lord , thou liest :
+Within these forty hours Surrey durst better
+Have burnt that tongue than said so .
+
+Thy ambition ,
+Thou scarlet sin , robb'd this bewailing land
+Of noble Buckingham , my father-in-law :
+The heads of all thy brother cardinals
+With thee and all thy best parts bound together
+Weigh'd not a hair of his . Plague of your policy !
+You sent me deputy for Ireland ,
+Far from his succour , from the king , from all
+That might have mercy on the fault thou gav'st him ;
+Whilst your great goodness , out of holy pity ,
+Absolv'd him with an axe .
+
+This and all else
+This talking lord can lay upon my credit ,
+I answer is most false . The duke by law
+Found his deserts : how innocent I was
+From any private malice in his end ,
+His noble jury and foul cause can witness .
+If I lov'd many words , lord , I should tell you ,
+You have as little honesty as honour ,
+That in the way of loyalty and truth
+Toward the king , my ever royal master ,
+Dare mate a sounder man than Surrey can be ,
+And all that love his follies .
+
+By my soul ,
+Your long coat , priest , protects you ; thou shouldst feel
+My sword i' the life-blood of thee else . My lords ,
+Can ye endure to hear this arrogance ?
+And from this fellow ? If we live thus tamely ,
+To be thus jaded by a piece of scarlet ,
+Farewell nobility ; let his Grace go forward ,
+And dare us with his cap like larks .
+
+All goodness
+Is poison to thy stomach .
+
+Yes , that goodness
+Of gleaning all the land's wealth into one ,
+Into your own hands , cardinal , by extortion ;
+The goodness of your intercepted packets ,
+You writ to the pope against the king ; your goodness ,
+Since you provoke me , shall be most notorious .
+My Lord of Norfolk , as you are truly noble ,
+As you respect the common good , the state
+Of our despis'd nobility , our issues ,
+Who , if he live , will scarce be gentlemen ,
+Produce the grand sum of his sins , the articles
+Collected from his life ; I'll startle you
+Worse than the sacring bell , when the brown wench
+Lay kissing in your arms , Lord Cardinal .
+
+How much , methinks , I could despise this man ,
+But that I am bound in charity against it !
+
+Those articles , my lord , are in the king's hand ;
+But , thus much , they are foul ones .
+
+So much fairer
+And spotless shall mine innocence arise
+When the king knows my truth .
+
+This cannot save you :
+I thank my memory , I yet remember
+Some of these articles ; and out they shall .
+Now , if you can blush , and cry 'guilty ,' cardinal ,
+You'll show a little honesty .
+
+Speak on , sir ;
+I dare your worst objections ; if I blush ,
+It is to see a nobleman want manners .
+
+I had rather want those than my head . Have at you !
+First , that , without the king's assent or know ledge ,
+You wrought to be a legate ; by which power
+You maim'd the jurisdiction of all bishops .
+
+Then , that in all you writ to Rome , or else
+To foreign princes , Ego et Rex meus
+Was still inscrib'd ; in which you brought the king
+To be your servant .
+
+Then , that without the knowledge
+Either of king or council , when you went
+Ambassador to the emperor , you made bold
+To carry into Flanders the great seal .
+
+Item , you sent a large commission
+To Gregory de Cassado , to conclude ,
+Without the king's will or the state's allowance ,
+A league between his highness and Ferrara .
+
+That , out of mere ambition , you have caus'd
+Your holy hat to be stamp'd on the king's coin .
+
+Then , that you have sent innumerable substance ,
+By what means got I leave to your own conscience ,
+To furnish Rome , and to prepare the ways
+You have for dignities ; to the mere undoing
+Of all the kingdom . Many more there are ;
+Which , since they are of you , and odious ,
+I will not taint my mouth with .
+
+O my lord !
+Press not a falling man too far ; 'tis virtue :
+His faults lie open to the laws ; let them ,
+Not you , correct him . My heart weeps to see him
+So little of his great self .
+
+I forgive him .
+
+Lord Cardinal , the king's further pleasure is ,
+Because all those things you have done of late ,
+By your power legatine , within this kingdom ,
+Fall into the compass of a pr munire ,
+That therefore such a writ be su'd against you ;
+To forfeit all your goods , lands , tenements ,
+Chattels , and whatsoever , and to be
+Out of the king's protection . This is my charge .
+
+And so we'll leave you to your meditations
+How to live better . For your stubborn answer
+About the giving back the great seal to us ,
+The king shall know it , and , no doubt , shall thank you .
+So fare you well , my little good Lord Cardinal .
+
+
+So farewell to the little good you bear me .
+Farewell ! a long farewell , to all my greatness !
+This is the state of man : to-day be puts forth
+The tender leaves of hopes ; to-morrow blossoms ,
+And bears his blushing honours thick upon him ;
+The third day comes a frost , a killing frost ;
+And , when he thinks , good easy man , full surely
+His greatness is a-ripening , nips his root ,
+And then he falls , as I do . I have ventur'd ,
+Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders ,
+This many summers in a sea of glory ,
+But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride
+At length broke under me , and now has left me ,
+Weary and old with service , to the mercy
+Of a rude stream , that must for ever hide me .
+Vain pomp and glory of this world , I hate yo :
+I feel my heart new open'd . O ! how wretched
+Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours !
+There is , betwixt that smile we would aspire to ,
+That sweet aspect of princes , and their ruin ,
+More pangs and fears than wars or women have ;
+And when he falls , he falls like Lucifer ,
+Never to hope again .
+
+Why , how now , Cromwell !
+
+I have no power to speak , sir .
+
+What ! amaz'd
+At my misfortunes ? can thy spirit wonder
+A great man should decline ? Nay , an you weep ,
+I am fall'n indeed .
+
+How does your Grace ?
+
+Why , well ;
+Never so truly happy , my good Cromwell .
+I know myself now ; and I feel within me
+A peace above all earthly dignities ,
+A still and quiet conscience . The king has cur'd me ,
+I humbly thank his Grace ; and from these shoulders ,
+These ruin'd pillars , out of pity taken
+A load would sink a navy , too much honour :
+O ! 'tis a burden , Cromwell , 'tis a burden
+Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven .
+
+I am glad your Grace has made that right use of it .
+
+I hope I have : I am able now , methinks ,
+Out of a fortitude of soul I feel ,
+To endure more miseries and greater far
+Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer .
+What news abroad ?
+
+The heaviest and the worst ,
+Is your displeasure with the king .
+
+God bless him !
+
+The next is , that Sir Thomas More is chosen
+Lord Chancellor in your place .
+
+That's somewhat sudden :
+But he's a learned man . May he continue
+Long in his highness' favour , and do justice
+For truth's sake and his conscience ; that his bones ,
+When he has run his course and sleeps in blessings ,
+May have a tomb of orphans' tears wept on 'em !
+What more ?
+
+That Cranmer is return'd with welcome ,
+Install'd Lord Archbishop of Canterbury .
+
+That's news indeed .
+
+Last , that the Lady Anne ,
+Whom the king hath in secrecy long married ,
+This day was view'd in open , as his queen ,
+Going to chapel ; and the voice is now
+Only about her coronation .
+
+There was the weight that pull'd me down . O Cromwell !
+The king has gone beyond me : all my glories
+In that one woman I have lost for ever .
+No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours ,
+Or gild again the noble troops that waited
+Upon my smiles . Go , get thee from me , Cromwell ;
+I am a poor fall'n man , unworthy now
+To be thy lord and master : seek the king ;
+That sun , I pray , may never set !I have told him
+What , and how true thou art : he will advance thee ;
+Some little memory of me will stir him
+I know his noble nature not to let
+Thy hopeful service perish too . Good Cromwell ,
+Neglect him not ; make use now , and provide
+For thine own future safety .
+
+O my lord !
+Must I then , leave you ? must I needs forego
+So good , so noble , and so true a master ?
+Bear witness all that have not hearts of iron ,
+With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord .
+The king shall have my service ; but my prayers
+For ever and for ever , shall be yours .
+
+Cromwell , I did not think to shed a tear
+In all my miseries ; but thou hast forc'd me ,
+Out of thy honest truth , to play the woman .
+Let's dry our eyes : and thus far hear me , Cromwell ;
+And , when I am forgotten , as I shall be ,
+And sleep in dull cold marble , where no mention
+Of me more must be heard of , say , I taught thee ,
+Say , Wolsey , that once trod the ways of glory ,
+And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour ,
+Found thee a way , out of his wrack , to rise in ;
+A sure and safe one , though thy master miss'd it .
+Mark but my fall , and that that ruin'd me .
+Cromwell , I charge thee , fling away ambition :
+By that sin fell the angels ; how can man then ,
+The image of his Maker , hope to win by't ?
+Love thyself last : cherish those hearts that hate thee ;
+Corruption wins not more than honesty .
+Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace ,
+To silence envious tongues : be just , and fear not .
+Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's ,
+Thy God's , and truth's ; then if thou fall'st , O Cromwell !
+Thou fall'st a blessed martyr . Serve the king ;
+And ,prithee , lead me in :
+There take an inventory of all I have ,
+To the last penny ; 'tis the king's : my robe ,
+And my integrity to heaven is all
+I dare now call mine own . O Cromwell , Cromwell !
+Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal
+I serv'd my king , he would not in mine age
+Have left me naked to mine enemies .
+
+Good sir , have patience .
+
+So I have . Farewell
+The hopes of court ! my hopes in heaven do dwell .
+
+
+You're well met once again .
+
+So are you .
+
+You come to take your stand here , and behold
+The Lady Anne pass from her coronation ?
+
+'Tis all my business . At our last encounter
+The Duke of Buckingham came from his trial .
+
+'Tis very true : but that time offer'd sorrow ;
+This , general joy .
+
+'Tis well : the citizens ,
+I am sure , have shown at full their royal minds ,
+As , let 'em have their rights , they are ever forward ,
+In celebration of this day with shows ,
+Pageants , and sights of honour .
+
+Never greater ;
+Nor , I'll assure you , better taken , sir .
+
+May I be bold to ask what that contains ,
+That paper in your hand ?
+
+Yes ; 'tis the list
+Of those that claim their offices this day
+By custom of the coronation .
+The Duke of Suffolk is the first , and claims
+To be high-steward ; next , the Duke of Norfolk ,
+He to be earl marshal : you may read the rest .
+
+I thank you , sir : had I not known those customs ,
+I should have been beholding to your paper .
+But , I beseech you , what's become of Katharine ,
+The princess dowager ? how goes her business ?
+
+That I can tell you too . The Archbishop
+Of Canterbury , accompanied with other
+Learned and reverend fathers of his order ,
+Held a late court at Dunstable , six miles off
+From Ampthill , where the princess lay ; to which
+She was often cited by them , but appear'd not :
+And , to be short , for not appearance and
+The king's late scruple , by the main assent
+Of all these learned men she was divorc'd ,
+And the late marriage made of none effect :
+Since which she was remov'd to Kimbolton ,
+Where she remains now sick .
+
+Alas ! good lady !
+
+The trumpets sound : stand close , the queen is coming .
+
+A lively flourish of trumpets .
+
+
+1. Two Judges .
+2 Lord Chancellor , with the purse and mace before him .
+3. Choristers , singing .
+
+
+4. Mayor of London , bearing the mace . Then Garter , in his coat of arms , and on his head a gilt copper crown .
+5.
+
+6.
+
+7. A canopy borne by four of the Cinque-ports ; under it , the
+
+8. The old
+9. Certain Ladies or Countesses , with plain circlets of gold without flowers .
+They pass over the stage in order and state .
+
+
+A royal train , believe me . These I know ;
+Who's that that bears the sceptre ?
+
+Marquess Dorset :
+And that the Earl of Surrey with the rod .
+
+A bold brave gentleman . That should be
+The Duke of Suffolk ?
+
+'Tis the same ; high-steward .
+
+And that my Lord of Norfolk ?
+
+Yes .
+
+Heaven bless thee !
+Thou hast the sweetest face I ever look'd on .
+Sir , as I have a soul , she is an angel ;
+Our king has all the Indies in his arms ,
+And more and richer , when he strains that lady :
+I cannot blame his conscience .
+
+They that bear
+The cloth of honour over her , are four barons
+Of the Cinque-ports .
+
+Those men are happy ; and so are all are near her .
+I take it , she that carries up the train
+Is that old noble lady , Duchess of Norfolk .
+
+It is ; and all the rest are countesses .
+
+Their coronets say so . These are stars indeed ;
+And sometimes falling ones .
+
+No more of that .
+
+
+God save you , sir ! Where have you been broiling ?
+
+Among the crowd i' the Abbey ; where a finger
+Could not be wedg'd in more : I am stifled
+With the mere rankness of their joy .
+
+You saw
+The ceremony ?
+
+That I did .
+
+How was it ?
+
+Well worth the seeing .
+
+Good sir , speak it to us .
+
+As well as I am able . The rich stream
+Of lords and ladies , having brought the queen
+To a prepar'd place in the choir , fell off
+A distance from her ; while her Grace sat down
+To rest awhile , some half an hour or so ,
+In a rich chair of state , opposing freely
+The beauty of her person to the people .
+Believe me , sir , she is the goodliest woman
+That ever lay by man : which when the people
+Had the full view of , such a noise arose
+As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest ,
+As loud , and to as many tunes : hats , cloaks ,
+Doublets , I think ,flew up ; and had their faces
+Been loose , this day they had been lost . Such joy
+I never saw before . Great-bellied women ,
+That had not half a week to go , like rams
+In the old time of war , would shake the press ,
+And make 'em reel before them . No man living
+Could say , 'This is my wife ,' there ; all were woven
+So strangely in one piece .
+
+But , what follow'd ?
+
+At length her Grace rose , and with modest paces
+Came to the altar ; where she kneel'd , and , saint-like ,
+Cast her fair eyes to heaven and pray'd devoutly .
+Then rose again and bow'd her to the people :
+When by the Archbishop of Canterbury
+She had all the royal makings of a queen ;
+As holy oil , Edward Confessor's crown ,
+The rod , and bird of peace , and all such emblems
+Laid nobly on her : which perform'd , the choir ,
+With all the choicest music of the kingdom ,
+Together sung Te Deum . So she parted ,
+And with the same full state pac'd back again
+To York-place , where the feast is held .
+
+Sir ,
+You must no more call it York-place , that's past ;
+For , since the cardinal fell , that title's lost :
+'Tis now the king's , and call'd Whitehall .
+
+I know it ;
+But 'tis so lately alter'd that the old name
+Is fresh about me .
+
+What two reverend bishops
+Were those that went on each side of the queen ?
+
+Stokesly and Gardiner ; the one of Winchester ,
+Newly preferr'd from the king's secretary ,
+The other , London .
+
+He of Winchester
+Is held no great good lover of the archbishop's ,
+The virtuous Cranmer .
+
+All the land knows that :
+However , yet there's no great breach ; when it comes ,
+Cranmer will find a friend will not shrink from him .
+
+Who may that be , I pray you ?
+
+Thomas Cromwell :
+A man in much esteem with the king , and truly
+A worthy friend . The king
+Has made him master o' the jewel house ,
+And one , already , of the privy-council .
+
+He will deserve more .
+
+Yes , without all doubt .
+Come , gentlemen , ye shall go my way , which
+Is to the court , and there ye shall be my guests :
+Something I can command . As I walk thither ,
+I'll tell ye more .
+
+You may command us , sir .
+
+
+How does your Grace ?
+
+O Griffith ! sick to death !
+My legs , like loaden branches , bow to the earth ,
+Willing to leave their burden . Reach a chair :
+So ; now , methinks , I feel a little ease .
+Didst thou not tell me , Griffith , as thou ledd'st me ,
+That the great child of honour , Cardinal Wolsey ,
+Was dead ?
+
+Yes , madam ; but I think your Grace ,
+Out of the pain you suffer'd , gave no ear to't .
+
+Prithee , good Griffith , tell me how he died :
+If well , he stepp'd before me , happily ,
+For my example .
+
+Well , the voice goes , madam :
+For after the stout Earl Northumberland
+Arrested him at York , and brought him forward ,
+As a man sorely tainted , to his answer ,
+He fell sick suddenly , and grew so ill
+He could not sit his mule .
+
+Alas ! poor man .
+
+At last , with easy roads , he came to Leicester ;
+Lodg'd in the abbey , where the reverend abbot ,
+With all his covent , honourably receiv'd him :
+To whom he gave these words : 'O ! father abbot ,
+An old man , broken with the storms of state ,
+Is come to lay his weary bones among ye ;
+Give him a little earth for charity .'
+So went to bed , where eagerly his sickness
+Pursu'd him still ; and three nights after this ,
+About the hour of eight ,which he himself
+Foretold should be his last ,full of repentance ,
+Continual meditations , tears , and sorrows ,
+He gave his honours to the world again ,
+His blessed part to heaven , and slept in peace .
+
+So may he rest ; his faults lie gently on him !
+Yet thus far , Griffith , give me leave to speak him ,
+And yet with charity . He was a man
+Of an unbounded stomach , ever ranking
+Himself with princes ; one , that by suggestion
+Tied all the kingdom ; simony was fair-play ;
+His own opinion was his law ; i' the presence
+He would say untruths , and be ever double
+Both in his words and meaning . He was never ,
+But where he meant to ruin , pitiful ;
+His promises were , as he then was , mighty ;
+But his performance , as he is now , nothing :
+Of his own body he was ill , and gave
+The clergy ill example .
+
+Noble madam ,
+Men's evil manners live in brass ; their virtues
+We write in water . May it please your highness
+To hear me speak his good now ?
+
+Yes , good Griffith ,
+I were malicious else .
+
+This cardinal ,
+Though from a humble stock , undoubtedly
+Was fashion'd to much honour from his cradle .
+He was a scholar , and a ripe and good one ;
+Exceeding wise , fair-spoken , and persuading ;
+Lofty and sour to them that lov'd him not ;
+But , to those men that sought him sweet as summer .
+And though he were unsatisfied in getting ,
+Which was a sin ,yet in bestowing , madam ,
+He was most princely . Ever witness for him
+Those twins of learning that he rais'd in you ,
+Ipswich , and Oxford ! one of which fell with him ,
+Unwilling to outlive the good that did it ;
+The other , though unfinish'd , yet so famous ,
+So excellent in art , and still so rising ,
+That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue .
+His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him ;
+For then , and not till then , he felt himself ,
+And found the blessedness of being little :
+And , to add greater honours to his age
+Than man could give him , he died fearing God .
+
+After my death I wish no other herald ,
+No other speaker of my living actions ,
+To keep mine honour from corruption ,
+But such an honest chronicler as Griffith .
+Whom I most hated living , thou hast made me ,
+With thy religious truth and modesty ,
+Now in his ashes honour . Peace be with him !
+Patience , be near me still ; and set me lower :
+I have not long to trouble thee . Good Griffith ,
+Cause the musicians play me that sad note
+I nam'd my knell , whilst I sit meditating
+On that celestial harmony I go to .
+
+
+She is asleep : good wench , let's sit down quiet ,
+For fear we wake her : softly , gentle Patience .
+
+
+Spirits of peace , where are ye ? Are ye all gone ,
+And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye ?
+
+Madam , we are here .
+
+It is not you I call for :
+Saw ye none enter since I slept ?
+
+None , madam .
+
+No ? Saw you not , even now , a blessed troop
+Invite me to a banquet ; whose bright faces
+Cast thousand beams upon me , like the sun ?
+They promis'd me eternal happiness ,
+And brought me garlands , Griffith , which I feel
+I am not worthy yet to wear : I shall assuredly .
+
+I am most joyful , madam , such good dreams
+Possess your fancy .
+
+Bid the music leave ,
+They are harsh and heavy to me .
+
+
+Do you note
+How much her Grace is alter'd on the sudden ?
+How long her face is drawn ? How pale she looks ,
+And of an earthy cold ? Mark her eyes !
+
+She is going , wench . Pray , pray .
+
+Heaven comfort her !
+
+
+An't like your Grace ,
+
+You are a saucy fellow :
+Deserve we no more reverence ?
+
+You are to blame ,
+Knowing she will not lose her wonted greatness ,
+To use so rude behaviour ; go to , kneel .
+
+I humbly do entreat your highness pardon ;
+My haste made me unmannerly . There is staying
+A gentleman , sent from the king , to see you .
+
+Admit him entrance , Griffith : but this fellow
+Let me ne'er see again .
+
+If my sight fail not ,
+You should be lord ambassador from the emperor ,
+
+My royal nephew , and your name Capucius .
+
+Madam , the same ; your servant .
+
+O my lord !
+The times and titles now are alter'd strangely
+With me since first you knew me . But , I pray you ,
+What is your pleasure with me ?
+
+Noble lady ,
+First , mine own service to your Grace ; the next ,
+The king's request that I would visit you ;
+Who grieves much for your weakness , and by me
+Sends you his princely commendations ,
+And heartily entreats you take good comfort .
+
+O ! my good lord , that comfort comes too late ;
+'Tis like a pardon after execution :
+That gentle physic , given in time , had cur'd me ;
+But now I am past all comforts here but prayers .
+How does his highness ?
+
+Madam , in good health .
+
+So may he ever do ! and ever flourish ,
+When I shall dwell with worms , and my poor name
+Banish'd the kingdom . Patience , is that letter
+I caus'd you write , yet sent away ?
+
+No , madam .
+
+
+Sir , I most humbly pray you to deliver
+This to my lord the king .
+
+Most willing , madam .
+
+In which I have commended to his goodness
+The model of our chaste loves , his young daughter :
+The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her !
+Beseeching him to give her virtuous breeding ,
+She is young , and of a noble modest nature ,
+I hope she will deserve well ,and a little
+To love her for her mother's sake , that lov'd him ,
+Heaven knows how dearly . My next poor petition
+Is , that his noble Grace would have some pity
+Upon my wretched women , that so long
+Have follow'd both my fortunes faithfully :
+Of which there is not one , I dare avow ,
+And now I should not lie ,but will deserve ,
+For virtue , and true beauty of the soul ,
+For honesty and decent carriage ,
+A right good husband , let him be a noble ;
+And , sure , those men are happy that shall have 'em .
+The last is , for my men : they are the poorest ,
+But poverty could never draw 'em from me ;
+That they may have their wages duly paid 'em ,
+And something over to remember me by :
+If heaven had pleas'd to have given me longer life
+And able means , we had not parted thus .
+These are the whole contents : and , good my lord ,
+By that you love the dearest in this world ,
+As you wish Christian peace to souls departed ,
+Stand these poor people's friend , and urge the king
+To do me this last right .
+
+By heaven , I will ,
+Or let me lose the fashion of a man !
+
+I thank you , honest lord . Remember me
+In all humility unto his highness :
+Say his long trouble now is passing
+Out of this world ; tell him , in death I bless'd him ;
+For so I will . Mine eyes grow dim . Farewell ,
+My lord . Griffith , farewell . Nay , Patience ,
+You must not leave me yet : I must to bed ;
+Call in more women . When I am dead , good wench ,
+Let me be us'd with honour : strew me over
+With maiden flowers , that all the world may know
+I was a chaste wife to my grave : embalm me ,
+Then lay me forth : although unqueen'd , yet like
+A queen , and daughter to a king , inter me .
+I can no more .
+
+
+It's one o'clock , boy , is't not ?
+
+It hath struck .
+
+These should be hours for necessities ,
+Not for delights ; times to repair our nature
+With comforting repose , and not for us
+To waste these times . Good hour of night , Sir Thomas !
+Whither so late ?
+
+Came you from the king , my lord ?
+
+I did , Sir Thomas ; and left him at primero
+With the Duke of Suffolk .
+
+I must to him too ,
+Before he go to bed . I'll take my leave .
+
+Not yet , Sir Thomas Lovell . What 's the matter ?
+It seems you are in haste : an if there be
+No great offence belongs to't , give your friend
+Some touch of your late business : affairs , that walk
+As they say spirits do at midnight , have
+In them a wilder nature than the business
+That seeks dispatch by day .
+
+My lord , I love you ,
+And durst commend a secret to your ear
+Much weightier than this work . The queen's in labour ,
+They say , in great extremity ; and fear'd
+She'll with the labour end .
+
+The fruit she goes with
+I pray for heartily , that it may find
+Good time , and live : but for the stock , Sir Thomas ,
+I wish it grubb'd up now .
+
+Methinks I could
+Cry the amen ; and yet my conscience says
+She's a good creature , and , sweet lady , does
+Deserve our better wishes .
+
+But , sir , sir ,
+Hear me , Sir Thomas : you're a gentleman
+Of mine own way ; I know you wise , religious ;
+And , let me tell you , it will ne'er be well ,
+'Twill not , Sir Thomas Lovell , take 't of me ,
+Till Cranmer , Cromwell , her two hands , and she ,
+Sleep in their graves .
+
+Now , sir , you speak of two
+The most remark'd i' the kingdom . As for Cromwell ,
+Beside that of the jewel-house , is made master
+O' the rolls , and the king's secretary ; further , sir ,
+Stands in the gap and trade of moe preferments ,
+With which the time will load him . The archbishop
+Is the king's hand and tongue ; and who dare speak
+One syllable against him ?
+
+Yes , yes , Sir Thomas ,
+There are that dare ; and I myself have ventur'd
+To speak my mind of him : and indeed this day ,
+Sir ,I may tell it you ,I think I have
+Incens'd the lords o' the council that he is
+For so I know he is , they know he is
+A most arch heretic , a pestilence
+That does infect the land : with which they mov'd
+Have broken with the king ; who hath so far
+Given ear to our complaint ,of his great grace
+And princely care , foreseeing those fell mischiefs
+Our reasons laid before him ,hath commanded
+To-morrow morning to the council-board
+He be convented . He's a rank weed , Sir Thomas ,
+And we must root him out . From your affairs
+I hinder you too long : good-night , Sir Thomas !
+
+Many good-nights , my lord . I rest your servant .
+
+Charles , I will play no more to-night ;
+My mind's not on't ; you are too hard for me .
+
+Sir , I did never win of you before .
+
+But little , Charles ;
+Nor shall not when my fancy's on my play .
+Now , Lovell , from the queen what is the news ?
+
+I could not personally deliver to her
+What you commanded me , but by her woman
+I sent your message ; who return'd her thanks
+In the great'st humbleness , and desir'd your highness
+Most heartily to pray for her .
+
+What sayst thou , ha ?
+To pray for her ? what ! is she crying out ?
+
+So said her woman ; and that her sufferance made
+Almost each pang a death .
+
+Alas ! good lady .
+
+God safely quit her of her burden , and
+With gentle travail , to the gladding of
+Your highness with an heir !
+
+'Tis midnight , Charles ;
+Prithee , to bed ; and in thy prayers remember
+The estate of my poor queen . Leave me alone ;
+For I must think of that which company
+Would not be friendly to .
+
+I wish your highness
+A quiet night ; and my good mistress will
+Remember in my prayers .
+
+Charles , good-night .
+
+
+Well , Sir , what follows ?
+
+Sir , I have brought my lord the archbishop ,
+As you commanded me .
+
+Ha ! Canterbury ?
+
+Ay , my good lord .
+
+'Tis true : where is he , Denny ?
+
+He attends your highness' pleasure .
+
+Bring him to us .
+
+
+This is about that which the bishop spake :
+I am happily come hither .
+
+
+Avoid the gallery .
+
+Ha ! I have said . Begone .
+What !
+
+
+I am fearful . Wherefore frowns he thus ?
+'Tis his aspect of terror : all's not well .
+
+How now , my lord ! You do desire to know
+Wherefore I sent for you .
+
+It is my duty
+To attend your highness' pleasure .
+
+Pray you , arise ,
+My good and gracious Lord of Canterbury .
+Come , you and I must walk a turn together ;
+I have news to tell you : come , come , give me your hand .
+Ah ! my good lord , I grieve at what I speak ,
+And am right sorry to repeat what follows .
+I have , and most unwillingly , of late
+Heard many grievous , I do say , my lord ,
+Grievous complaints of you ; which , being consider'd ,
+Have mov'd us and our council , that you shall
+This morning come before us ; where , I know ,
+You cannot with such freedom purge yourself ,
+But that , till further trial in those charges
+Which will require your answer , you must take
+Your patience to you , and be well contented
+To make your house our Tower : you a brother of us ,
+It fits we thus proceed , or else no witness
+Would come against you .
+
+I humbly thank your highness ;
+And am right glad to catch this good occasion
+Most throughly to be winnow'd , where my chaff
+And corn shall fly asunder ; for I know
+There's none stands under more calumnious tongues
+Than I myself , poor man .
+
+Stand up , good Canterbury :
+Thy truth and thy integrity is rooted
+In us , thy friend : give me thy hand , stand up :
+Prithee , let's walk . Now , by my holidame ,
+What manner of man are you ? My lord , I look'd
+You would have given me your petition , that
+I should have ta'en some pains to bring together
+Yourself and your accusers ; and to have heard you ,
+Without indurance , further .
+
+Most dread liege ,
+The good I stand on is my truth and honesty :
+If they shall fail , I , with mine enemies ,
+Will triumph o'er my person ; which I weigh not ,
+Being of those virtues vacant . I fear nothing
+What can be said against me .
+
+Know you not
+How your state stands i' the world , with the whole world ?
+Your enemies are many , and not small ; their practices
+Must bear the same proportion ; and not ever
+The justice and the truth o' the question carries
+The due o' the verdict with it . At what ease
+Might corrupt minds procure knaves as corrupt
+To swear against you ? such things have been done .
+You are potently oppos'd , and with a malice
+Of as great size . Ween you of better luck ,
+I mean in perjur'd witness , than your master ,
+Whose minister you are , whiles here he liv'd
+Upon this naughty earth ? Go to , go to ;
+You take a precipice for no leap of danger ,
+And woo your own destruction .
+
+God and your majesty
+Protect mine innocence ! or I fall into
+The trap is laid for me !
+
+Be of good cheer ;
+They shall no more prevail than we give way to .
+Keep comfort to you ; and this morning see
+You do appear before them . If they shall chance ,
+In charging you with matters , to commit you ,
+The best persuasions to the contrary
+Fail not to use , and with what vehemency
+The occasion shall instruct you : if entreaties
+Will render you no remedy , this ring
+Deliver them , and your appeal to us
+There make before them . Look ! the good man weeps ;
+He's honest , on mine honour . God's blest mother !
+I swear he is true-hearted ; and a soul
+None better in my kingdom . Get you gone ,
+And do as I have bid you .
+
+He has strangled
+His language in his tears .
+
+
+Come back : what mean you ?
+
+I'll not come back ; the tidings that I bring
+Will make my boldness manners . Now , good angels
+Fly o'er thy royal head , and shade thy person
+Under their blessed wings !
+
+Now , by thy looks
+I guess thy message . Is the queen deliver'd ?
+Say , ay ; and of a boy .
+
+Ay , ay , my liege ;
+And of a lovely boy : the God of heaven
+Both now and ever bless her ! 'tis a girl ,
+Promises boys hereafter . Sir , your queen
+Desires your visitation , and to be
+Acquainted with this stranger : 'tis as like you
+As cherry is to cherry .
+
+Lovell !
+
+
+Sir !
+
+Give her a hundred marks . I'll to the queen .
+
+
+A hundred marks ! By this light , I'll ha' more .
+An ordinary groom is for such payment :
+I will have more , or scold it out of him .
+Said I for this the girl was like to him ?
+I will have more , or else unsay't ; and now ,
+While it is hot , I'll put it to the issue .
+
+
+I hope I am not too late ; and yet the gentleman ,
+That was sent to me from the council , pray'd me
+To make great haste . All fast ? what means this ? Ho !
+Who waits there ?
+
+Sure , you know me ?
+
+Yes , my lord ;
+But yet I cannot help you .
+
+Why ?
+
+Your Grace must wait till you be call'd for .
+
+
+So .
+
+This is a piece of malice . I am glad
+I came this way so happily : the king
+Shall understand it presently .
+
+'Tis Butts ,
+The king's physician . As he past along ,
+How earnestly he cast his eyes upon me .
+Pray heaven he sound not my disgrace ! For certain ,
+This is of purpose laid by some that hate me ,
+God turn their hearts ! I never sought their malice ,
+To quench mine honour : they would shame to make me
+Wait else at door , a fellow-counsellor ,
+'Mong boys , grooms , and lackeys . But their pleasures
+Must be fulfill'd , and I attend with patience .
+
+
+I'll show your Grace the strangest sight ,
+
+What's that , Butts ?
+
+I think your highness saw this many a day .
+
+Body o' me , where is it ?
+
+There , my lord ,
+The high promotion of his Grace of Canterbury ;
+Who holds his state at door , 'mongst pursuivants ,
+Pages , and footboys .
+
+Ha ! 'Tis he , indeed :
+Is this the honour they do one another ?
+'Tis well there's one above 'em yet . I had thought
+They had parted so much honesty among 'em ,
+At least , good manners ,as not thus to suffer
+A man of his place , and so near our favour ,
+To dance attendance on their lordships' pleasures ,
+And at the door too , like a post with packets .
+By holy Mary , Butts , there's knavery :
+Let 'em alone , and draw the curtain close ;
+We shall hear more anon .
+
+
+Speak to the business , Master secretary :
+Why are we met in council ?
+
+Please your honours ,
+The chief cause concerns his Grace of Canterbury .
+
+Has he had knowledge of it ?
+
+Yes .
+
+Who waits there ?
+
+Without , my noble lords ?
+
+Yes .
+
+My lord archbishop :
+And has done half-an-hour , to know your pleasures .
+
+Let him come in .
+
+Your Grace may enter now .
+
+
+My good lord archbishop , I'm very sorry
+To sit here at this present and behold
+That chair stand empty : but we all are men ,
+In our own natures frail , and capable
+Of our flesh ; few are angels : out of which frailty
+And want of wisdom , you , that best should teach us ,
+Have misdemean'd yourself , and not a little ,
+Toward the king first , then his laws , in filling
+The whole realm , by your teaching and your chaplains ,
+For so we are inform'd ,with new opinions ,
+Divers and dangerous ; which are heresies ,
+And , not reform'd , may prove pernicious .
+
+Which reformation must be sudden too ,
+My noble lords ; for those that tame wild horses
+Pace 'em not in their hands to make 'em gentle ,
+But stop their mouths with stubborn bits , and spur 'em ,
+Till they obey the manage . If we suffer
+Out of our easiness and childish pity
+To one man's honour this contagious sickness ,
+Farewell all physic : and what follows then ?
+Commotions , uproars , with a general taint
+Of the whole state : as , of late days , our neighbours ,
+The upper Germany , can dearly witness ,
+Yet freshly pitied in our memories .
+
+My good lords , hitherto in all the progress
+Both of my life and office , I have labour'd ,
+And with no little study , that my teaching
+And the strong course of my authority
+Might go one way , and safely ; and the end
+Was ever , to do well : nor is there living ,
+I speak it with a single heart , my lords ,
+A man that more detests , more stirs against ,
+Both in his private conscience and his place ,
+Defacers of a public peace , than I do .
+Pray heaven the king may never find a heart
+With less allegiance in it ! Men , that make
+Envy and crooked malice nourishment
+Dare bite the best . I do beseech your lordships
+That , in this case of justice , my accusers ,
+Be what they will , may stand forth face to face ,
+And freely urge against me .
+
+Nay , my lord ,
+That cannot be : you are a counsellor ,
+And by that virtue no man dare accuse you .
+
+My lord , because we have business of more moment ,
+We will be short with you . 'Tis his highness' pleasure ,
+And our consent , for better trial of you ,
+From hence you be committed to the Tower ;
+Where , being but a private man again ,
+You shall know many dare accuse you boldly ,
+More than , I fear , you are provided for .
+
+Ah ! my good Lord of Winchester , I thank you ;
+You are always my good friend : if your will pass ,
+I shall both find your lordship judge and juror ,
+You are so merciful . I see your end ;
+'Tis my undoing : love and meekness , lord ,
+Become a churchman better than ambition :
+Win straying souls with modesty again ,
+Cast none away . That I shall clear myself ,
+Lay all the weight ye can upon my patience ,
+I make as little doubt , as you do conscience ,
+In doing daily wrongs . I could say more ,
+But reverence to your calling makes me modest .
+
+My lord , my lord , you are a sectary ;
+That's the plain truth : your painted gloss discovers ,
+To men that understand you , words and weakness .
+
+My Lord of Winchester , you are a little ,
+By your good favour , too sharp ; men so noble ,
+However faulty , yet should find respect
+For what they have been : 'tis a cruelty
+To load a falling man .
+
+Good Master secretary ,
+I cry your honour mercy , you may , worst
+Of all this table , say so .
+
+Why , my lord ?
+
+Do not I know you for a favourer
+Of this new sect ? ye are not sound .
+
+Not sound ?
+
+Not sound , I say .
+
+Would you were half so honest !
+Men's prayers then would seek you , not their fears .
+
+I shall remember this bold language .
+
+Do .
+Remember your bold life too .
+
+This is too much ;
+Forbear , for shame , my lords .
+
+I have done .
+
+And I .
+
+Then thus for you , my lord : it stands agreed ,
+I take it , by all voices , that forthwith
+You be convey'd to the Tower a prisoner ;
+There to remain till the king's further pleasure
+Be known unto us . Are you all agreed , lords ?
+
+We are .
+
+Is there no other way of mercy ,
+But I must needs to the Tower , my lords ?
+
+What other
+Would you expect ? You are strangely troublesome .
+Let some o' the guard be ready there .
+
+
+For me ?
+Must I go like a traitor thither ?
+
+Receive him ,
+And see him safe i' the Tower .
+
+Stay , good my lords ;
+I have a little yet to say . Look there , my lords ;
+By virtue of that ring I take my cause
+Out of the gripes of cruel men , and give it
+To a most noble judge , the king my master .
+
+This is the king's ring .
+
+'Tis no counterfeit .
+
+'Tis the right ring , by heaven ! I told ye all ,
+When we first put this dangerous stone a-rolling ,
+'Twould fall upon ourselves .
+
+Do you think , my lords ,
+The king will suffer but the little finger
+Of this man to be vex'd ?
+
+'Tis now too certain :
+How much more is his life in value with him ?
+Would I were fairly out on't .
+
+My mind gave me ,
+In seeking tales and informations
+Against this man whose honesty the devil
+And his disciples only envy at
+Ye blew the fire that burns ye : now have at ye !
+
+
+Dread sovereign , how much are we bound to heaven
+In daily thanks , that gave us such a prince ;
+Not only good and wise , but most religious :
+One that in all obedience makes the Church
+The chief aim of his honour ; and , to strengthen
+That holy duty , out of dear respect ,
+His royal self in judgment comes to hear
+The cause betwixt her and this great offender .
+
+You were ever good at sudden commendations ,
+Bishop of Winchester ; but know , I come not
+To hear such flattery now , and in my presence ;
+They are too thin and bare to hide offences .
+To me you cannot reach ; you play the spaniel ,
+And think with wagging of your tongue to win me ;
+But , whatsoe'er thou tak'st me for , I'm sure
+Thou hast a cruel nature and a bloody .
+
+
+Good man , sit down . Now let me see the proudest
+He , that dares most , but wag his finger at thee :
+By all that's holy , he had better starve
+Than but once think this place becomes thee not .
+
+May it please your Grace ,
+
+No , sir , it does not please me .
+I had thought I had had men of some understanding
+And wisdom of my council ; but I find none .
+Was it discretion , lords , to let this man ,
+This good man ,few of you deserve that title ,
+This honest man , wait like a lousy footboy
+At chamber-door ? and one as great as you are ?
+Why , what a shame was this ! Did my commission
+Bid ye so far forget yourselves ? I gave ye
+Power as he was a counsellor to try him ,
+Not as a groom . There's some of ye , I see ,
+More out of malice than integrity ,
+Would try him to the utmost , had ye mean ;
+Which ye shall never have while I live .
+
+Thus far ,
+My most dread sov'reign , may it like your Grace
+To let my tongue excuse all . What was purpos'd
+Concerning his imprisonment , was rather
+If there be faith in men meant for his trial
+And fair purgation to the world , than malice ,
+I'm sure , in me .
+
+Well , well , my lords , respect him ;
+Take him , and use him well ; he's worthy of it .
+I will say thus much for him , if a prince
+May be beholding to a subject , I
+Am , for his love and service , so to him .
+Make me no more ado , but all embrace him :
+Be friends , for shame , my lords ! My Lord of Canterbury ,
+I have a suit which you must not deny me ;
+That is , a fair young maid that yet wants baptism ,
+You must be godfather , and answer for her .
+
+The greatest monarch now alive may glory
+In such an honour : how may I deserve it ,
+That am a poor and humble subject to you ?
+
+Come , come , my lord , you'd spare your spoons : you shall have two noble partners with you ; the old Duchess of Norfolk , and Lady Marquess Dorset : will these please you ?
+Once more , my Lord of Winchester , I charge you ,
+Embrace and love this man .
+
+With a true heart
+And brother-love I do it .
+
+And let heaven
+Witness , how dear I hold this confirmation .
+
+Good man ! those joyful tears show thy true heart :
+The common voice , I see , is verified
+Of thee , which says thus , 'Do my Lord of Canterbury
+A shrewd turn , and he is your friend for ever .'
+Come , lords , we trifle time away ; I long
+To have this young one made a Christian .
+As I have made ye one , lords , one remain ;
+So I grow stronger , you more honour gain .
+
+
+You'll leave your noise anon , ye rascals .
+Do you take the court for Paris-garden ? ye rude slaves , leave your gaping .
+
+
+Good Master porter , I belong to the larder .
+
+Belong to the gallows , and be hanged , you rogue ! Is this a place to roar in ? Fetch me a dozen crab-tree staves , and strong ones : these are but switches to 'em . I'll scratch your heads : you must be seeing christenings ! Do you look for ale and cakes here , you rude rascals ?
+
+Pray , sir , be patient : 'tis as much impossible
+Unless we sweep 'em from the door with cannons
+To scatter 'em , as 'tis to make 'em sleep
+On May-day morning ; which will never be .
+We may as well push against Paul's as stir 'em .
+
+How got they in , and be hang'd ?
+
+Alas , I know not ; how gets the tide in ?
+As much as one sound cudgel of four foot
+You see the poor remainder could distribute ,
+I made no spare , sir .
+
+You did nothing , sir .
+
+I am not Samson , nor Sir Guy , nor Colbrand ,
+To mow 'em down before me ; but if I spar'd any
+That had a head to hit , either young or old ,
+He or she , cuckold or cuckold-maker ,
+Let me ne'er hope to see a chine again ;
+And that I would not for a cow , God save her !
+
+
+Do you hear , Master porter ?
+
+I shall be with you presently , good
+Master puppy . Keep the door close , sirrah .
+
+What would you have me do ?
+
+What should you do , but knock 'em down by the dozens ? Is this Moorfields to muster in ? or have we some strange Indian with the great tool come to court , the women so besiege us ? Bless me , what a fry of fornication is at door ! On my Christian conscience , this one christening will beget a thousand : here will be father , godfather , and all together .
+
+The spoons will be the bigger , sir . There is a fellow somewhat near the door , he should be a brazier by his face , for , o' my conscience , twenty of the dog days now reign in's nose : all that stand about him are under the line , they need no other penance . That fire-drake did I hit three times on the head , and three times was his nose discharged against me : he stands there , like a mortar-piece , to blow us . There was a haberdasher's wife of small wit near him , that railed upon me till her pinked porringer fell off her head , for kindling such a combustion in the state . I missed the meteor once , and hit that woman , who cried out , 'Clubs !' when I might see from far some forty truncheoners draw to her succour , which were the hope o' the Strand , where she was quartered . They fell on ; I made good my place ; at length they came to the broomstaff to me ; I defied 'em still ; when suddenly a file of boys behind 'em , loose shot , delivered such a shower of pebbles , that I was fain to draw mine honour in , and let 'em win the work . The devil was amongst 'em , I think , surely .
+
+These are the youths that thunder at a playhouse , and fight for bitten apples ; that no audience , but the Tribulation of Tower-hill , or the Limbs of Limehouse , their dear brothers , are able to endure . I have some of 'em in Limbo Patrum , and there they are like to dance these three days ; besides the running banquet of two beadles , that is to come .
+
+
+Mercy o' me , what a multitude are here !
+They grow still too , from all parts they are coming ,
+As if we kept a fair here ! Where are these porters ,
+These lazy knaves ? Ye have made a fine hand , fellows :
+There's a trim rabble let in . Are all these
+Your faithful friends o' the suburbs ? We shall have
+Great store of room , no doubt , left for the ladies ,
+When they pass back from the christening .
+
+An't please your honour ,
+We are but men ; and what so many may do ,
+Not being torn a-pieces , we have done :
+An army cannot rule 'em .
+
+As I live ,
+If the king blame me for't , I'll lay ye all
+By the heels , and suddenly ; and on your heads
+Clap round fines for neglect : ye're lazy knaves ;
+And here ye lie baiting of bombards , when
+Ye should do service . Hark ! the trumpets sound ;
+They're come already from the christening .
+Go , break among the press , and find a way out
+To let the troop pass fairly , or I'll find
+A Marshalsea shall hold ye play these two months .
+
+Make way there for the princess .
+
+You great fellow ,
+Stand close up , or I'll make your head ache .
+
+You i' the camlet , get up o' the rail :
+I'll pick you o'er the pales else .
+
+Heaven , from thy endless goodness , send prosperous life , long , and ever happy , to the high and mighty Princess of England , Elizabeth !
+
+
+And to your royal Grace , and the good queen ,
+My noble partners , and myself , thus pray :
+All comfort , joy , in this most gracious lady ,
+Heaven ever laid up to make parents happy ,
+May hourly fall upon ye !
+
+Thank you , good lord archbishop :
+What is her name ?
+
+Elizabeth .
+
+Stand up , lord .
+
+With this kiss take my blessing ; God protect thee !
+Into whose hand I give thy life .
+
+Amen .
+
+My noble gossips , ye have been too prodigal :
+I thank ye heartily : so shall this lady
+When she has so much English .
+
+Let me speak , sir ,
+For heaven now bids me ; and the words I utter
+Let none think flattery , for they'll find 'em truth .
+This royal infant ,heaven still move about her !
+Though in her cradle , yet now promises
+Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings ,
+Which time shall bring to ripeness : she shall be
+But few now living can behold that goodness
+A pattern to all princes living with her ,
+And all that shall succeed : Saba was never
+More covetous of wisdom and fair virtue
+Than this pure soul shall be : all princely graces ,
+That mould up such a mighty piece as this is ,
+With all the virtues that attend the good ,
+Shall still be doubled on her ; truth shall nurse her ;
+Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her ;
+She shall be lov'd and fear'd ; her own shall bless her ;
+Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn ,
+And hang their heads with sorrow ; good grows with her .
+In her days every man shall eat in safety
+Under his own vine what he plants ; and sing
+The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours .
+God shall be truly known ; and those about her
+From her shall read the perfect ways of honour ,
+And by those claim their greatness , not by blood .
+Nor shall this peace sleep with her ; but as when
+The bird of wonder dies , the maiden ph nix ,
+Her ashes new-create another heir
+As great in admiration as herself ,
+So shall she leave her blessedness to one ,
+When heaven shall call her from this cloud of darkness ,
+Who , from the sacred ashes of her honour ,
+Shall star-like rise , as great in fame as she was ,
+And so stand fix'd . Peace , plenty , love , truth , terror ,
+That were the servants to this chosen infant ,
+Shall then be his , and like a vine grow to him :
+Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine ,
+His honour and the greatness of his name
+Shall be , and make new nations ; he shall flourish ,
+And , like a mountain cedar , reach his branches
+To all the plains about him ; our children's children
+Shall see this , and bless heaven .
+
+Thou speakest wonders .
+
+She shall be , to the happiness of England ,
+An aged princess ; many days shall see her ,
+And yet no day without a deed to crown it .
+Would I had known no more ! but she must die ,
+She must , the saints must have her , yet a virgin ;
+A most unspotted lily shall she pass
+To the ground , and all the world shall mourn her .
+
+O lord archbishop !
+Thou hast made me now a man : never , before
+This happy child , did I get any thing .
+This oracle of comfort has so pleas'd me ,
+That when I am in heaven , I shall desire
+To see what this child does , and praise my Maker .
+I thank ye all . To you , my good Lord Mayor ,
+And your good brethren , I am much beholding ;
+I have receiv'd much honour by your presence ,
+And ye shall find me thankful . Lead the way , lords :
+Ye must all see the queen , and she must thank ye ;
+She will be sick else . This day , no man think
+He has business at his house ; for all shall stay :
+This little one shall make it holiday .
+
+
+'Tis ten to one , this play can never please
+All that are here : some come to take their ease
+And sleep an act or two ; but those , we fear ,
+We've frighted with our trumpets ; so , 'tis clear
+They'll say 'tis naught : others , to hear the city
+Abus'd extremely , and to cry , 'That's witty !'
+Which we have not done neither : that , I fear ,
+All the expected good we're like to hear
+For this play at this time , is only in
+The merciful construction of good women ;
+For such a one we show'd 'em : if they smile ,
+And say 'twill do , I know , within a while
+All the best men are ours ; for 'tis ill hap
+If they hold when their ladies bid 'em clap .
+
+THE FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV
+
+So shaken as we are , so wan with care ,
+Find we a time for frighted peace to pant ,
+And breathe short-winded accents of new broils
+To be commenc'd in stronds afar remote .
+No more the thirsty entrance of this soil
+Shall daub her lips with her own children's blood ;
+No more shall trenching war channel her fields ,
+Nor bruise her flowerets with the armed hoofs
+Of hostile paces : those opposed eyes ,
+Which , like the meteors of a troubled heaven ,
+All of one nature , of one substance bred ,
+Did lately meet in the intestine shock
+And furious close of civil butchery ,
+Shall now , in mutual well-beseeming ranks ,
+March all one way , and be no more oppos'd
+Against acquaintance , kindred , and allies :
+The edge of war , like an ill-sheathed knife ,
+No more shall cut his master . Therefore , friends ,
+As far as to the sepulchre of Christ ,
+Whose soldier now , under whose blessed cross
+We are impressed and engag'd to fight ,
+Forthwith a power of English shall we levy ,
+Whose arms were moulded in their mother's womb
+To chase these pagans in those holy fields
+Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet
+Which fourteen hundred years ago were nail'd
+For our advantage on the bitter cross .
+But this our purpose is a twelvemonth old ,
+And bootless 'tis to tell you we will go :
+Therefore we meet not now . Then let me hear
+Of you , my gentle cousin Westmoreland ,
+What yesternight our council did decree
+In forwarding this dear expedience .
+
+My liege , this haste was hot in question ,
+And many limits of the charge set down
+But yesternight ; when all athwart there came
+A post from Wales loaden with heavy news ;
+Whose worst was , that the noble Mortimer ,
+Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight
+Against the irregular and wild Glendower ,
+Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken ,
+And a thousand of his people butchered ;
+Upon whose dead corpse' there was such misuse ,
+Such beastly shameless transformation
+By those Welshwomen done , as may not be
+Without much shame re-told or spoken of .
+
+It seems then that the tidings of this broil
+Brake off our business for the Holy Land .
+
+This match'd with other like , my gracious lord ;
+For more uneven and unwelcome news
+Came from the north and thus it did import :
+On Holy-rood day , the gallant Hotspur there ,
+Young Harry Percy and brave Archibald ,
+That ever-valiant and approved Scot ,
+At Holmedon met ,
+Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour ;
+As by discharge of their artillery ,
+And shape of likelihood , the news was told ;
+For he that brought them , in the very heat
+And pride of their contention did take horse ,
+Uncertain of the issue any way .
+
+Here is a dear and true industrious friend ,
+Sir Walter Blunt , new lighted from his horse ,
+Stain'd with the variation of each soil
+Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours ;
+And he hath brought us smooth and welcome news .
+The Earl of Douglas is discomfited ;
+Ten thousand bold Scots , two and twenty knights ,
+Balk'd in their own blood did Sir Walter see
+On Holmedon's plains : of prisoners Hotspur took
+Mordake the Earl of Fife , and eldest son
+To beaten Douglas , and the Earls of Athol ,
+Of Murray , Angus , and Menteith .
+And is not this an honourable spoil ?
+A gallant prize ? ha , cousin , is it not ?
+
+In faith ,
+It is a conquest for a prince to boast of .
+
+Yea , there thou mak'st me sad and mak'st me sin
+In envy that my Lord Northumberland
+Should be the father to so blest a son ,
+A son who is the theme of honour's tongue ;
+Amongst a grove the very straightest plant ;
+Who is sweet Fortune's minion and her pride :
+Whilst I , by looking on the praise of him ,
+See riot and dishonour stain the brow
+Of my young Harry . O ! that it could be prov'd
+That some night-tripping fairy had exchang'd
+In cradle-clothes our children where they lay ,
+And call'd mine Percy , his Plantagenet .
+Then would I have his Harry , and he mine .
+But let him from my thoughts . What think you , coz ,
+Of this young Percy's pride ? the prisoners ,
+Which he in this adventure hath surpris'd ,
+To his own use he keeps , and sends me word ,
+I shall have none but Mordake Earl of Fife .
+
+This is his uncle's teaching , this is Worcester ,
+Malevolent to you in all aspects ;
+Which makes him prune himself , and bristle up
+The crest of youth against your dignity .
+
+But I have sent for him to answer this ;
+And for this cause a while we must neglect
+Our holy purpose to Jerusalem .
+Cousin , on Wednesday next our council we
+Will hold at Windsor ; so inform the lords :
+But come yourself with speed to us again ;
+For more is to be said and to be done
+Than out of anger can be uttered .
+
+I will , my hege .
+
+
+Now , Hal , what time of day is it , lad ?
+
+Thou art so fat-witted , with drinking of old sack , and unbuttoning thee after supper , and sleeping upon benches after noon , that thou hast forgotten to demand that truly which thou wouldst truly know . What a devil hast thou to do with the time of the day ? unless hours were cups of sack , and minutes capons , and clocks the tongues of bawds , and dials the signs of leaping-houses , and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-colour'd taffeta , I see no reason why thou shouldst be so superfluous to demand the time of the day .
+
+Indeed , you come near me now , Hal ; for we that take purses go by the moon and the seven stars , and not by Ph bus , he , 'that wandering knight so fair .' And , I prithee , sweet wag , when thou art king ,as , God save thy Grace ,majesty , I should say , for grace thou wilt have none ,
+
+What ! none ?
+
+No , by my troth ; not so much as will serve to be prologue to an egg and butter .
+
+Well , how then ? come , roundly , roundly .
+
+Marry , then , sweet wag , when thou art king , let not us that are squires of the night's body be called thieves of the day's beauty : let us be Diana's foresters , gentlemen of the shade , minions of the moon ; and let men say , we be men of good government , being governed as the sea is , by our noble and chaste mistress the moon , under whose countenance we steal .
+
+Thou sayest well , and it holds well too ; for the fortune of us that are the moon's men doth ebb and flow like the sea , being governed as the sea is , by the moon . As for proof now : a purse of gold most resolutely snatched on Monday night and most dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning ; got with swearing 'Lay by ;' and spent with crying 'Bring in :' now in as low an ebb as the foot of the ladder , and by and by in as high a flow as the ridge of the gallows .
+
+By the Lord , thou sayest true , lad . And is not my hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench ?
+
+As the honey of Hybla , my old lad of the castle . And is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance ?
+
+How now , how now , mad wag ! what , in thy quips and thy quiddities ? what a plague have I to do with a buff jerkin ?
+
+Why , what a pox have I to do with my hostess of the tavern ?
+
+Well , thou hast called her to a reckoning many a time and oft .
+
+Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part ?
+
+No ; I'll give thee thy due , thou hast paid all there .
+
+Yea , and elsewhere , so far as my coin would stretch ; and where it would not , I have used my credit .
+
+Yea , and so used it that , were it not here apparent that thou art their apparent .But , I prithee , sweet wag , shall there be gallows standing in England when thou art king , and resolution thus fobbed as it is with the rusty curb of old father antick the law ? Do not thou , when thou art king , hang a thief .
+
+No ; thou shalt .
+
+Shall I ? O rare ! By the Lord , I'll be a brave judge .
+
+Thou judgest false already ; I mean , thou shalt have the hanging of the thieves and so become a rare hangman .
+
+Well , Hal , well ; and in some sort it jumps with my humour as well as waiting in the court , I can tell you .
+
+For obtaining of suits ?
+
+Yea , for obtaining of suits , whereof the hangman hath no lean wardrobe . 'Sblood , I am as melancholy as a gib cat , or a lugged bear .
+
+Or an old lion , or a lover's lute .
+
+Yea , or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe .
+
+What sayest thou to a hare , or the melancholy of Moor-ditch ?
+
+Thou hast the most unsavory similes , and art , indeed , the most comparative , rascalliest , sweet young prince ; but , Hal , I prithee , trouble me no more with vanity . I would to God thou and I knew where a commodity of good names were to be bought . An old lord of the council rated me the other day in the street about you , sir , but I marked him not ; and yet he talked very wisely , but I regarded him not ; and yet he talked wisely , and in the street too .
+
+Thou didst well ; for wisdom cries out in the streets , and no man regards it .
+
+O ! thou hast damnable iteration , and art indeed able to corrupt a saint . Thou hast done much harm upon me , Hal ; God forgive thee for it ! Before I knew thee , Hal , I knew nothing ; and now am I , if a man should speak truly , little better than one of the wicked . I must give over this life , and I will give it over ; by the Lord , an I do not , I am a villain : I'll be damned for never a king's son in Christendom .
+
+Where shall we take a purse to-morrow , Jack ?
+
+Zounds ! where thou wilt , lad , I'll make one ; an I do not , call me a villain and baffle me .
+
+I see a good amendment of life in thee ; from praying to purse-taking .
+
+
+Why , Hal , 'tis my vocation , Hal ; 'tis no sin for a man to labour in his vocation . Poins ! Now shall we know if Gadshill have set a match . O ! if men were to be saved by merit , what hole in hell were hot enough for him ? This is the most omnipotent villain that ever cried 'Stand !' to a true man .
+
+Good morrow , Ned .
+
+Good morrow , sweet Hal . What says Monsieur Remorse ? What says Sir John Sack-and-Sugar ? Jack ! how agrees the devil and thee about thy soul , that thou soldest him on Good-Friday last for a cup of Madeira and a cold capon's leg ?
+
+Sir John stands to his word , the devil shall have his bargain ; for he was never yet a breaker of proverbs : he will give the devil his due .
+
+Then art thou damned for keeping thy word with the devil .
+
+Else he had been damned for cozening the devil .
+
+But my lads , my lads , to-morrow morning , by four o'clock , early at Gadshill ! There are pilgrims going to Canterbury with rich offerings , and traders riding to London with fat purses : I have vizards for you all ; you have horses for yourselves . Gadshill lies to night in Rochester ; I have bespoke supper to-morrow night in Eastcheap : we may do it as secure as sleep . If you will go I will stuff your purses full of crowns ; if you will not , tarry at home and be hanged .
+
+Hear ye , Yedward : if I tarry at home and go not , I'll hang you for going .
+
+You will , chops ?
+
+Hal , wilt thou make one ?
+
+Who , I rob ? I a thief ? not I , by my faith .
+
+There's neither honesty , manhood , nor good fellowship in thee , nor thou camest not of the blood royal , if thou darest not stand for ten shillings .
+
+Well , then , once in my days I'll be a madcap .
+
+Why , that's well said .
+
+Well , come what will , I'll tarry at home .
+
+By the Lord , I'll be a traitor then , when thou art king .
+
+I care not .
+
+Sir John , I prithee , leave the prince and me alone : I will lay him down such reasons for this adventure that he shall go .
+
+Well , God give thee the spirit of persuasion and him the ears of profiting , that what thou speakest may move , and what he hears may be believed , that the true prince may , for recreation sake , prove a false thief ; for the poor abuses of the time want countenance . Farewell : you shall find me in Eastcheap .
+
+Farewell , thou latter spring ! Farewell , All-hallown summer !
+
+
+Now , my good sweet honey lord , ride with us to-morrow : I have a jest to execute that I cannot manage alone . Falstaff , Bardolph , Peto , and Gadshill shall rob those men that we have already waylaid ; yourself and I will not be there ; and when they have the booty , if you and I do not rob them , cut this head from my shoulders .
+
+But how shall we part with them in setting forth ?
+
+Why , we will set forth before or after them , and appoint them a place of meeting , wherein it is at our pleasure to fail ; and then will they adventure upon the exploit themselves , which they shall have no sooner achieved but we'll set upon them .
+
+Yea , but 'tis like that they will know us by our horses , by our habits , and by every other appointment , to be ourselves .
+
+Tut ! our horses they shall not see , I'll tie them in the wood ; our vizards we will change after we leave them ; and , sirrah , I have cases of buckram for the nonce , to inmask our noted outward garments .
+
+Yea , but I doubt they will be too hard for us .
+
+Well , for two of them , I know them to be as true-bred cowards as ever turned back ; and for the third , if he fight longer than he sees reason , I'll forswear arms . The virtue of this jest will be , the incomprehensible lies that this same fat rogue will tell us when we meet at supper : how thirty , at least , he fought with ; what wards , what blows , what extremities he endured ; and in the reproof of this lies the jest .
+
+Well , I'll go with thee : provide us all things necessary and meet me to-morrow night in Eastcheap ; there I'll sup . Farewell .
+
+Farewell , my lord .
+
+
+I know you all , and will awhile uphold
+The unyok'd humour of your idleness :
+Yet herein will I imitate the sun ,
+Who doth permit the base contagious clouds
+To smother up his beauty from the world ,
+That when he please again to be himself ,
+Being wanted , he may be more wonder'd at ,
+By breaking through the foul and ugly mists
+Of vapours that did seem to strangle him .
+If all the year were playing holidays ,
+To sport would be as tedious as to work ;
+But when they seldom come , they wish'd for come ,
+And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents .
+So , when this loose behaviour I throw off ,
+And pay the debt I never promised ,
+By how much better than my word I am
+By so much shall I falsify men's hopes ;
+And like bright metal on a sullen ground ,
+My reformation , glittering o'er my fault ,
+Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes
+Than that which hath no foil to set it off .
+I'll so offend to make offence a skill ;
+Redeeming time when men think least I will .
+
+
+My blood hath been too cold and temperate ,
+Unapt to stir at these indignities ,
+And you have found me ; for accordingly
+You tread upon my patience : but , be sure ,
+I will from henceforth rather be myself ,
+Mighty , and to be fear'd , than my condition ,
+Which hath been smooth as oil , soft as young down ,
+And therefore lost that title of respect
+Which the proud soul ne'er pays but to the proud .
+
+Our house , my sovereign liege , little deserves
+The scourge of greatness to be us'd on it ;
+And that same greatness too which our own hands
+Have holp to make so portly .
+
+My lord ,
+
+Worcester , get thee gone ; for I do see
+Danger and disobedience in thine eye .
+O , sir , your presence is too bold and peremptory ,
+And majesty might never yet endure
+The moody frontier of a servant brow .
+You have good leave to leave us ; when we need
+Your use and counsel we shall send for you .
+
+You were about to speak .
+
+Yea , my good lord .
+Those prisoners in your highness' name demanded ,
+Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took ,
+Were , as he says , not with such strength denied
+As is deliver'd to your majesty :
+Either envy , therefore , or misprision
+Is guilty of this fault and not my son .
+
+My liege , I did deny no prisoners :
+But I remember , when the fight was done ,
+When I was dry with rage and extreme toil ,
+Breathless and faint , leaning upon my sword ,
+Came there a certain lord , neat , and trimly dress'd ,
+Fresh as a bridegroom ; and his chin , new reap'd ,
+Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest-home :
+He was perfumed like a milliner ,
+And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held
+A pouncet-box , which ever and anon
+He gave his nose and took't away again ;
+Who therewith angry , when it next came there ,
+Took it in snuff : and still he smil'd and talk'd ;
+And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by ,
+He call'd them untaught knaves , unmannerly ,
+To bring a slovenly unhandsome corpse
+Betwixt the wind and his nobility .
+With many holiday and lady terms
+He question'd me ; among the rest , demanded
+My prisoners in your majesty's behalf .
+I then all smarting with my wounds being cold ,
+To be so pester'd with a popinjay ,
+Out of my grief and my impatience
+Answer'd neglectingly , I know not what ,
+He should , or he should not ; for he made me mad
+To see him shine so brisk and smell so sweet
+And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman
+Of guns , and drums , and wounds ,God save the mark !
+And telling me the sovereign'st thing on earth
+Was parmaceti for an inward bruise ;
+And that it was great pity , so it was ,
+This villanous saltpetre should be digg'd
+Out of the bowels of the harmless earth ,
+Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd
+So cowardly ; and but for these vile guns ,
+He would himself have been a soldier .
+This bald unjointed chat of his , my lord ,
+I answer'd indirectly , as I said ;
+And I beseech you , let not his report
+Come current for an accusation
+Betwixt my love and your high majesty .
+
+The circumstance consider'd , good my lord ,
+Whatever Harry Percy then had said
+To such a person and in such a place ,
+At such a time , with all the rest re-told ,
+May reasonably die and never rise
+To do him wrong , or any way impeach
+What then he said , so he unsay it now .
+
+Why , yet he doth deny his prisoners ,
+But with proviso and exception ,
+That we at our own charge shall ransom straight
+His brother-in-law , the foolish Mortimer ;
+Who , on my soul , hath wilfully betray'd
+The lives of those that he did lead to fight
+Against the great magician , damn'd Glendower ,
+Whose daughter , as we hear , the Earl of March
+Hath lately married . Shall our coffers then
+Be emptied to redeem a traitor home ?
+Shall we buy treason , and indent with fears ,
+When they have lost and forfeited themselves ?
+No , on the barren mountains let him starve ;
+For I shall never hold that man my friend
+Whose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost
+To ransom home revolted Mortimer .
+
+Revolted Mortimer !
+He never did fall off , my sovereign liege ,
+But by the chance of war : to prove that true
+Needs no more but one tongue for all those wounds ,
+Those mouthed wounds , which valiantly he took ,
+When on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank ,
+In single opposition , hand to hand ,
+He did confound the best part of an hour
+In changing hardiment with great Glendower .
+Three times they breath'd and three times did they drink ,
+Upon agreement , of swift Severn's flood ,
+Who then , affrighted with their bloody looks ,
+Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds ,
+And hid his crisp head in the hollow bank
+Blood-stained with these valiant combatants .
+Never did base and rotten policy
+Colour her working with such deadly wounds ;
+Nor never could the noble Mortimer
+Receive so many , and all willingly :
+Then let him not be slander'd with revolt .
+
+Thou dost belie him , Percy , thou dost belie him :
+He never did encounter with Glendower :
+I tell thee ,
+He durst as well have met the devil alone
+As Owen Glendower for an enemy .
+Art thou not asham'd ? But , sirrah , henceforth
+Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer :
+Send me your prisoners with the speediest means ,
+Or you shall hear in such a kind from me
+As will displease you . My Lord Northumberland ,
+We license your departure with your son .
+Send us your prisoners , or you'll hear of it .
+
+
+An if the devil come and roar for them ,
+I will not send them : I will after straight
+And tell him so ; for I will ease my heart ,
+Albeit I make a hazard of my head .
+
+What ! drunk with choler ? stay , and pause awhile :
+Here comes your uncle .
+
+
+Speak of Mortimer !
+'Zounds ! I will speak of him ; and let my soul
+Want mercy if I do not join with him :
+In his behalf I'll empty all these veins ,
+And shed my dear blood drop by drop i' the dust ,
+But I will lift the down-trod Mortimer
+As high i' the air as this unthankful king ,
+As this ingrate and canker'd Bolingbroke .
+
+Brother , the king hath made your nephew mad .
+
+Who struck this heat up after I was gone ?
+
+He will , forsooth , have all my prisoners ;
+And when I urg'd the ransom once again
+Of my wife's brother , then his cheek look'd pale ,
+And on my face he turn'd an eye of death ,
+Trembling even at the name of Mortimer .
+
+I cannot blame him : was he not proclaim'd
+By Richard that dead is the next of blood ?
+
+He was ; I heard the proclamation :
+And then it was when the unhappy king ,
+Whose wrongs in us God pardon !did set forth
+Upon his Irish expedition ;
+From whence he , intercepted , did return
+To be depos'd , and shortly murdered .
+
+And for whose death we in the world's wide mouth
+Live scandaliz'd and foully spoken of .
+
+But , soft ! I pray you , did King Richard then
+Proclaim my brother Edmund Mortimer
+Heir to the crown ?
+
+He did ; myself did hear it .
+
+Nay , then I cannot blame his cousin king ,
+That wish'd him on the barren mountains starve .
+But shall it be that you , that set the crown
+Upon the head of this forgetful man ,
+And for his sake wear the detested blot
+Of murd'rous subornation , shall it be ,
+That you a world of curses undergo ,
+Being the agents , or base second means ,
+The cords , the ladder , or the hangman rather ?
+O ! pardon me that I descend so low ,
+To show the line and the predicament
+Wherein you range under this subtle king .
+Shall it for shame be spoken in these days ,
+Or fill up chronicles in time to come ,
+That men of your nobility and power ,
+Did gage them both in'an unjust behalf ,
+As both of you God pardon it !have done ,
+To put down Richard , that sweet lovely rose ,
+And plant this thorn , this canker , Bolingbroke ?
+And shall it in more shame be further spoken ,
+That you are fool'd , discarded , and shook off
+By him for whom these shames ye underwent ?
+No ; yet time serves wherein you may redeem
+Your banish'd honours , and restore yourselves
+Into the good thoughts of the world again ;
+Revenge the jeering and disdain'd contempt
+Of this proud king , who studies day and night
+To answer all the debt he owes to you ,
+Even with the bloody payment of your deaths .
+Therefore , I say ,
+
+Peace , cousin ! say no more :
+And now I will unclasp a secret book ,
+And to your quick-conceiving discontents
+I'll read you matter deep and dangerous ,
+As full of peril and adventurous spirit
+As to o'er-walk a current roaring loud ,
+On the unsteadfast footing of a spear .
+
+If he fall in , good night ! or sink or swim :
+Send danger from the east unto the west ,
+So honour cross it from the north to south ,
+And let them grapple : O ! the blood more stirs
+To rouse a lion than to start a hare .
+
+Imagination of some great exploit
+Drives him beyond the bounds of patience .
+
+By heaven methinks it were an easy leap
+To pluck bright honour from the pale-fac'd moon ,
+Or dive into the bottom of the deep ,
+Where fathom-line could never touch the ground ,
+And pluck up drowned honour by the locks ;
+So he that doth redeem her thence might wear
+Without corrival all her dignities :
+But out upon this half-fac'd fellowship !
+
+He apprehends a world of figures here ,
+But not the form of what he should attend .
+Good cousin , give me audience for a while .
+
+I cry you mercy .
+
+Those same noble Scots
+That are your prisoners ,
+
+I'll keep them all ;
+By God , he shall not have a Scot of them :
+No , if a Scot would save his soul , he shall not :
+I'll keep them , by this hand .
+
+You start away ,
+And lend no ear unto my purposes .
+Those prisoners you shall keep .
+
+Nay , I will ; that's flat :
+He said he would not ransom Mortimer ;
+Forbade my tongue to speak of Mortimer ;
+But I will find him when he lies asleep ,
+And in his ear I'll holla 'Mortimer !'
+Nay ,
+I'll have a starling shall be taught to speak
+Nothing but 'Mortimer ,' and give it him ,
+To keep his anger still in motion .
+
+Hear you , cousin ; a word .
+
+All studies here I solemnly defy ,
+Save how to gall and pinch this Bolingbroke :
+And that same sword-and-buckler Prince of Wales ,
+But that I think his father loves him not ,
+And would be glad he met with some mischance ,
+I would have him poison'd with a pot of ale .
+
+Farewell , kinsman : I will talk to you
+When you are better temper'd to attend .
+
+Why , what a wasp-stung and impatient fool
+Art thou to break into this woman's mood ,
+Tying thine ear to no tongue but thine own !
+
+Why , look you , I am whipp'd and scourg'd with rods ,
+Nettled , and stung with pismires , when I hear
+Of this vile politician , Bolingbroke .
+In Richard's time ,what do ye call the place ?
+A plague upon't it is in Gloucestershire ;
+'Twas where the madcap duke his uncle kept ,
+His uncle York ; where I first bow'd my knee
+Unto this king of smiles , this Bolingbroke ,
+'Sblood !
+When you and he came back from Ravenspurgh .
+
+At Berkeley Castle .
+
+You say true .
+Why , what a candy deal of courtesy
+This fawning greyhound then did proffer me !
+Look , 'when his infant fortune came to age ,'
+And 'gentle Harry Percy ,' and 'kind cousin .'
+O ! the devil take such cozeners . God forgive me !
+Good uncle , tell your tale , for I have done .
+
+Nay , if you have not , to't again ;
+We'll stay your leisure .
+
+I have done , i' faith .
+
+Then once more to your Scottish prisoners .
+Deliver them up without their ransom straight ,
+And make the Douglas' son your only mean
+For powers in Scotland ; which , for divers reasons
+Which I shall send you written , be assur'd ,
+Will easily be granted .
+
+You , my lord ,
+Your son in Scotland being thus employ'd ,
+Shall secretly into the bosom creep
+Of that same noble prelate well belov'd ,
+The Archbishop .
+
+Of York , is it not ?
+
+True ; who bears hard
+His brother's death at Bristol , the Lord Scroop .
+I speak not this in estimation ,
+As what I think might be , but what I know
+Is ruminated , plotted and set down ;
+And only stays but to behold the face
+Of that occasion that shall bring it on .
+
+I smell it .
+Upon my life it will do wondrous well .
+
+Before the game's afoot thou still lett'st slip .
+
+Why , it cannot choose but be a noble plot :
+And then the power of Scotland and of York ,
+To join with Mortimer , ha ?
+
+And so they shall .
+
+In faith , it is exceedingly well aim'd .
+
+And 'tis no little reason bids us speed ,
+To save our heads by raising of a head ;
+For , bear ourselves as even as we can ,
+The king will always think him in our debt ,
+And think we think ourselves unsatisfied ,
+Till he hath found a time to pay us home .
+And see already how he doth begin
+To make us strangers to his looks of love .
+
+He does , he does : we'll be reveng'd on him .
+
+Cousin , farewell : no further go in this ,
+Than I by letters shall direct your course .
+When time is ripe ,which will be suddenly ,
+I'll steal to Glendower and Lord Mortimer ;
+Where you and Douglas and our powers at once ,
+As I will fashion it ,shall happily meet ,
+To bear our fortunes in our own strong arms ,
+Which now we hold at much uncertainty .
+
+Farewell , good brother : we shall thrive , I trust .
+
+Uncle , adieu : O ! let the hours be short ,
+Till fields and blows and groans applaud our sport !
+
+Heigh-ho ! An't be not four by the day I'll be hanged : Charles' Wain is over the new chimney , and yet our horse not packed . What , ostler !
+
+Anon , anon .
+
+I prithee , Tom , beat Cut's saddle , put a few flocks in the point ; the poor jade is wrung in the withers out of all cess .
+
+
+Peas and beans are as dank here as a dog , and that is the next way to give poor jades the bots ; this house is turned upside down since Robin Ostler died .
+
+Poor fellow ! never joyed since the price of oats rose ; it was the death of him .
+
+I think this be the most villanous house in all London road for fleas : I am stung like a tench .
+
+Like a tench ! by the mass , there is ne'er a king christen could be better bit than I have been since the first cock .
+
+Why , they will allow us ne'er a jordan , and then we leak in the chimney ; and your chamber-lie breeds fleas like a loach .
+
+What , ostler ! come away and be hanged , come away .
+
+I have a gammon of bacon and two razes of ginger , to be delivered as far as Charing-cross .
+
+Godsbody ! the turkeys in my pannier are quite starved . What , ostler ! A plague on thee ! hast thou never an eye in thy head ? canst not hear ? An 'twere not as good a deed as drink to break the pate on thee , I am a very villain . Come , and be hanged ! hast no faith in thee ?
+
+
+Good morrow , carriers . What's o'clock ?
+
+I think it be two o'clock .
+
+I prithee , lend me thy lanthorn , to see my gelding in the stable .
+
+Nay , by God , soft : I know a trick worth two of that , i' faith .
+
+I prithee , lend me thine .
+
+Ay , when ? canst tell ? Lend me thy lanthorn , quoth a' ? marry , I'll see thee hanged first .
+
+Sirrah carrier , what time do you mean to come to London ?
+
+Time enough to go to bed with a candle , I warrant thee . Come , neighbour Mugs , we'll call up the gentlemen : they will along with company , for they have great charge .
+
+
+What , ho ! chamberlain !
+
+'At hand , quoth pick-purse .'
+
+That's even as fair as , 'at hand , quoth the chamberlain' ; for thou variest no more from picking of purses than giving direction doth from labouring ; thou layest the plot how .
+
+
+Good morrow , Master Gadshill . It holds current that I told you yesternight : there's a franklin in the wild of Kent hath brought three hundred marks with him in gold : I heard him tell it to one of his company last night at supper ; a kind of auditor ; one that hath abundance of charge too , God knows what . They are up already and call for eggs and butter : they will away presently .
+
+Sirrah , if they meet not with Saint Nicholas' clerks , I'll give thee this neck .
+
+No , I'll none of it : I prithee , keep that for the hangman ; for I know thou worship'st Saint Nicholas as truly as a man of falsehood may .
+
+What talkest thou to me of the hangman ? If I hang I'll make a fat pair of gallows ; for if I hang , old Sir John hangs with me , and thou knowest he's no starveling . Tut ! there are other Troyans that thou dreamest not of , the which for sport sake are content to do the profession some grace ; that would , if matters should be looked into , for their own credit sake make all whole . I am joined with no foot-land-rakers , no long-staff sixpenny strikers , none of these mad mustachio-purple-hued malt worms ; but with nobility and tranquillity , burgomasters and great oneyers such as can hold in , such as will strike sooner than speak , and speak sooner than drink , and drink sooner than pray : and yet I lie ; for they pray continually to their saint , the commonwealth ; or , rather , not pray to her , but prey on her , for they ride up and down on her and make her their boots .
+
+What ! the commonwealth their boots ? will she hold out water in foul way ?
+
+She will , she will ; justice hath liquored her . We steal as in a castle , cock-sure ; we have the receipt of fern-seed , we walk invisible .
+
+Nay , by my faith , I think you are more beholding to the night than to fern-seed for your walking invisible .
+
+Give me thy hand : thou shalt have a share in our purchase , as I am a true man .
+
+Nay , rather let me have it , as you are a false thief .
+
+Go to ; homo is a common name to all men . Bid the ostler bring my gelding out of the stable . Farewell , you muddy knave .
+
+
+Come , shelter , shelter : I have removed Falstaff's horse , and he frets like a gummed velvet .
+
+Stand close .
+
+
+Poins ! Poins , and be hanged ! Poins !
+
+Peace , ye fat-kidneyed rascal ! What a brawling dost thou keep !
+
+Where's Poins , Hal ?
+
+He is walked up to the top of the hill : I'll go seek him .
+
+
+I am accursed to rob in that thief's company ; the rascal hath removed my horse and tied him I know not where . If I travel but four foot by the squire further afoot I shall break my wind . Well , I doubt not but to die a fair death for all this , if I 'scape hanging for killing that rogue . I have forsworn his company hourly any time this two-and-twenty years , and yet I am bewitched with the rogue's company . If the rascal have not given me medicines to make me love him , I'll be hanged : it could not be else : I have drunk medicines . Poins ! Hal ! a plague upon you both ! Bardolph ! Peto ! I'll starve ere I'll rob a foot further . An 'twere not as good a deed as drink to turn true man and leave these rogues , I am the veriest varlet that ever chewed with a tooth . Eight yards of uneven ground is threescore and ten miles afoot with me , and the stony-hearted villains know it well enough . A plague upon't when thieves cannot be true one to another !
+
+Whew ! A plague upon you all ! Give me my horse , you rogues ; give me my horse and be hanged .
+
+Peace , ye fatguts ! lie down : lay thine ear close to the ground , and list if thou canst hear the tread of travellers .
+
+Have you any levers to lift me up again , being down ? 'Sblood ! I'll not bear mine own flesh so far afoot again for all the coin in thy father's exchequer . What a plague mean ye to colt me thus ?
+
+Thou liest : thou art not colted ; thou art uncolted .
+
+I prithee , good Prince Hal , help me to my horse , good king's son .
+
+Out , you rogue ! shall I be your ostler ?
+
+Go , hang thyself in thine own heir apparent garters ! If I be ta'en I'll peach for this . An I have not ballads made on you all , and sung to filthy tunes , let a cup of sack be my poison : when a jest is so forward , and afoot too ! I hate it .
+
+
+Stand .
+
+So I do , against my will .
+
+O ! 'tis our setter : I know his voice .
+
+
+What news ?
+
+Case ye , case ye ; on with your vizards : there's money of the king's coming down the hill ; 'tis going to the king's exchequer .
+
+You lie , you rogue ; 'tis going to the king's tavern .
+
+There's enough to make us all .
+
+To be hanged .
+
+Sirs , you four shall front them in the narrow lane ; Ned Poins and I will walk lower : if they 'scape from your encounter then they light on us .
+
+How many be there of them ?
+
+Some eight or ten .
+
+'Zounds ! will they not rob us ?
+
+What ! a coward , Sir John Paunch ?
+
+Indeed , I am not John of Gaunt , your grandfather ; but yet no coward , Hal .
+
+Well , we leave that to the proof .
+
+Sirrah Jack , thy horse stands behind the hedge : when thou needst him there thou shalt find him . Farewell , and stand fast .
+
+Now cannot I strike him if I should be hanged .
+
+Ned , where are our disguises ?
+
+Here , hard by ; stand close .
+
+
+Now my masters , happy man be his dole , say I : every man to his business .
+
+
+Come , neighbour ; the boy shall lead our horses down the hill ; we'll walk afoot awhile , and ease our legs .
+
+Stand !
+
+Jesu bless us !
+
+Strike ; down with them ; cut the villains' throats : ah ! whoreson caterpillars ! bacon-fed knaves ! they hate us youth : down with them ; fleece them .
+
+O ! we are undone , both we and ours for ever .
+
+Hang ye , gorbellied knaves , are ye undone ? No , ye fat chuffs ; I would your store were here ! On , bacons , on ! What ! ye knaves , young men must live . You are grand-jurors are ye ? We'll jure ye , i' faith .
+
+The thieves have bound the true men . Now could thou and I rob the thieves and go merrily to London , it would be argument for a week , laughter for a month , and a good jest for ever .
+
+Stand close ; I hear them coming .
+
+
+Come , my masters ; let us share , and then to horse before day . An the Prince and Poins be not two arrant cowards , there's no equity stirring : there's no more valour in that Poins than in a wild duck .
+
+Your money !
+
+Villains !
+
+
+Got with much ease . Now merrily to horse :
+The thieves are scatter'd and possess'd with fear
+So strongly that they dare not meet each other ;
+Each takes his fellow for an officer .
+Away , good Ned . Falstaff sweats to death
+And lards the lean earth as he walks along :
+Were't not for laughing I should pity him .
+
+How the rogue roar'd !
+
+
+But for mine own part , my lord , I could be well contented to be there , in respect of the love I bear your house .
+
+He could be contented ; why is he not then ? In respect of the love he bears our house : he shows in this he loves his own barn better than he loves our house . Let me see some more .
+
+The purpose you undertake is dangerous ;
+
+Why , that's certain : 'tis dangerous to take a cold , to sleep , to drink ; but I tell you , my lord fool , out of this nettle , danger , we pluck this flower , safety .
+
+The purpose you undertake is dangerous ; the friends you have named uncertain ; the time itself unsorted ; and your whole plot too light for the counterpoise of so great an opposition .
+
+Say you so , say you so ? I say unto you again , you are a shallow cowardly hind , and you lie . What a lack-brain is this ! By the Lord , our plot is a good plot as ever was laid ; our friends true and constant : a good plot , good friends , and full of expectation ; an excellent plot , very good friends . What a frosty-spirited rogue is this ! Why , my Lord of York commends the plot and the general course of the action . 'Zounds ! an I were now by this rascal , I could brain him with his lady's fan . Is there not my father , my uncle , and myself ? Lord Edmund Mortimer , my Lord of York , and Owen Glendower ? Is there not besides the Douglas ? Have I not all their letters to meet me in arms by the ninth of the next month , and are they not some of them set forward already ? What a pagan rascal is this ! an infidel ! Ha ! you shall see now in very sincerity of fear and cold heart , will he to the king and lay open all our proceedings . O ! I could divide myself and go to buffets , for moving such a dish of skim milk with so honourable an action . Hang him ! let him tell the king ; we are prepared . I will set forward to-night .
+
+How now , Kate ! I must leave you within these two hours .
+
+O , my good lord ! why are you thus alone ?
+For what offence have I this fortnight been
+A banish'd woman from my Harry's bed ?
+Tell me , sweet lord , what is't that takes from thee
+Thy stomach , pleasure , and thy golden sleep ?
+Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth ,
+And start so often when thou sitt'st alone ?
+Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks ,
+And given my treasures and my rights of thee
+To thick-eyed musing and curst melancholy ?
+In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watch'd ,
+And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars ,
+Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed ,
+Cry , 'Courage ! to the field !' And thou hast talk'd
+Of sallies and retires , of trenches , tents ,
+Of palisadoes , frontiers , parapets ,
+Of basilisks , of cannon , culverin ,
+Of prisoners' ransom , and of soldiers slain ,
+And all the currents of a heady fight .
+Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war ,
+And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleep ,
+That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow ,
+Like bubbles in a late-disturbed stream ;
+And in thy face strange motions have appear'd ,
+Such as we see when men restrain their breath
+On some great sudden hest . O ! what portents are these ?
+Some heavy business hath my lord in hand ,
+And I must know it , else he loves me not .
+
+What , ho !
+
+Is Gilliams with the packet gone ?
+
+He is , my lord , an hour ago .
+
+Hath Butler brought those horses from the sheriff ?
+
+One horse , my lord , he brought even now .
+
+What horse ? a roan , a crop-ear , is it not ?
+
+It is , my lord .
+
+That roan shall be my throne .
+Well , I will back him straight : O , Esperance !
+Bid Butler lead him forth into the park .
+
+
+But hear you , my lord .
+
+What sayst thou , my lady ?
+
+What is it carries you away ?
+
+Why , my horse , my love , my horse .
+
+Out , you mad-headed ape !
+A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen
+As you are toss'd with . In faith ,
+I'll know your business , Harry , that I will .
+I fear my brother Mortimer doth stir
+About his title , and hath sent for you
+To line his enterprise . But if you go
+
+So far afoot , I shall be weary , love .
+
+Come , come , you paraquito , answer me
+Directly unto this question that I ask .
+In faith , I'll break thy little finger , Harry ,
+An if thou wilt not tell me all things true .
+
+Away ,
+Away , you trifler ! Love ! I love thee not ,
+I care not for thee , Kate : this is no world
+To play with mammets and to tilt with lips :
+We must have bloody noses and crack'd crowns ,
+And pass them current too . God's me , my horse !
+What sayst thou , Kate ? what wouldst thou have with me ?
+
+Do you not love me ? do you not , indeed ?
+Well , do not , then ; for since you love me not ,
+I will not love myself . Do you not love me ?
+Nay , tell me if you speak in jest or no .
+
+Come , wilt thou see me ride ?
+And when I am o' horseback , I will swear
+I love thee infinitely . But hark you , Kate ;
+I must not have you henceforth question me
+Whither I go , nor reason whereabout .
+Whither I must , I must ; and , to conclude ,
+This evening must I leave you , gentle Kate .
+I know you wise ; but yet no further wise
+Than Harry Percy's wife : constant you are ,
+But yet a woman : and for secrecy ,
+No lady closer ; for I well believe
+Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know ;
+And so far will I trust thee , gentle Kate .
+
+How ! so far ?
+
+Not an inch further . But , hark you , Kate ;
+Whither I go , thither shall you go too ;
+To-day will I set forth , to-morrow you .
+Will this content you , Kate ?
+
+It must , of force .
+
+
+Ned , prithee , come out of that fat room , and lend me thy hand to laugh a little .
+
+Where hast been , Hal ?
+
+With three or four loggerheads amongst three or four score hogsheads . I have sounded the very base string of humility . Sirrah , I am sworn brother to a leash of drawers , and can call them all by their christen names , as Tom , Dick , and Francis . They take it already upon their salvation , that though I be but Prince of Wales , yet I am the king of courtesy ; and tell me flatly I am no proud Jack , like Falstaff , but a Corinthian , a lad of mettle , a good boy ,by the Lord , so they call me ,and when I am king of England , I shall command all the good lads in Eastcheap . They call drinking deep , dyeing scarlet ; and when you breathe in your watering , they cry 'hem !' and bid you play it off . To conclude , I am so good a proficient in one quarter of an hour , that I can drink with any tinker in his own language during my life . I tell thee , Ned , thou hast lost much honour that thou wert not with me in this action . But , sweet Ned ,to sweeten which name of Ned , I give thee this pennyworth of sugar , clapped even now into my hand by an underskinker , one that never spake other English in his life than 'Eight shillings and sixpence ,' and 'You are welcome ,' with this shrill addition ,'Anon , anon , sir ! Score a pint of bastard in the Half-moon ,' or so . But , Ned , to drive away the time till Falstaff come , I prithee do thou stand in some by-room , while I question my puny drawer to what end he gave me the sugar ; and do thou never leave calling 'Francis !' that his tale to me may be nothing but 'Anon .' Step aside , and I'll show thee a precedent .
+
+Francis !
+
+Thou art perfect .
+
+Francis !
+
+Anon , anon , sir . Look down into the Pomgarnet , Ralph .
+
+Come hither , Francis .
+
+My lord .
+
+How long hast thou to serve , Francis ?
+
+Forsooth , five years , and as much as to
+
+Francis !
+
+Anon , anon , sir .
+
+Five years ! by'r lady a long lease for the clinking of pewter . But , Francis , darest thou be so valiant as to play the coward with thy indenture and show it a fair pair of heels and run from it ?
+
+O Lord , sir ! I'll be sworn upon all the books in England , I could find in my heart
+
+Francis !
+
+Anon , sir .
+
+How old art thou , Francis ?
+
+Let me see about Michaelmas next I shall be
+
+Francis !
+
+Anon , sir . Pray you , stay a little , my lord .
+
+Nay , but hark you , Francis . For the sugar thou gavest me , 'twas a pennyworth , was't not ?
+
+O Lord , sir ! I would it had been two .
+
+I will give thee for it a thousand pound : ask me when thou wilt and thou shalt have it .
+
+Francis !
+
+Anon , anon .
+
+Anon , Francis ? No , Francis ; but to-morrow , Francis ; or , Francis , o' Thursday ; or , indeed , Francis , when thou wilt . But , Francis !
+
+My lord ?
+
+Wilt thou rob this leathern-jerkin , crystal-button , knot-pated , agate-ring , pukestocking , caddis-garter , smooth-tongue , Spanish-pouch ,
+
+O Lord , sir , who do you mean ?
+
+Why then , your brown bastard is your only drink ; for , look you , Francis , your white canvas doublet will sully . In Barbary , sir , it cannot come to so much .
+
+What , sir ?
+
+Francis !
+
+Away , you rogue ! Dost thou not hear them call ?
+
+What ! standest thou still , and hearest such a calling ? Look to the guests within .
+
+My lord , old Sir John , with half a dozen more , are at the door : shall I let them in ?
+
+Let them alone awhile , and then open the door .
+
+Poins !
+
+
+Anon , anon , sir .
+
+Sirrah , Falstaff and the rest of the thieves are at the door : shall we be merry ?
+
+As merry as crickets , my lad . But hark ye ; what cunning match have you made with this jest of the drawer ? come , what's the issue ?
+
+I am now of all humours that have show'd themselves humours since the old days of goodman Adam to the pupil age of this present twelve o'clock at midnight .
+
+What's o'clock , Francis ?
+
+Anon , anon , sir .
+
+
+That ever this fellow should have fewer words than a parrot , and yet the son of a woman ! His industry is up-stairs and down-stairs ; his eloquence the parcel of a reckoning . I am not yet of Percy's mind , the Hotspur of the North ; he that kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast , washes his hands , and says to his wife , 'Fie upon this quiet life ! I want work .' 'O my sweet Harry ,' says she , 'how many hast thou killed to-day ?' 'Give my roan horse a drench ,' says he , and answers , 'Some fourteen ,' an hour after , 'a trifle , a trifle .' I prithee call in Falstaff : I'll play Percy , and that damned brawn shall play Dame Mortimer his wife . 'Rivo !' says the drunkard . Call in ribs , call in tallow .
+
+
+Welcome , Jack : where hast thou been ?
+
+A plague of all cowards , I say , and a vengeance too ! marry , and amen ! Give me a cup of sack , boy . Ere I lead this life long , I'll sew nether-stocks and mend them and foot them too . A plague of all cowards ! Give me a cup of sack , rogue .Is there no virtue extant ?
+
+
+Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of butter pitiful-hearted Titan , that melted at the sweet tale of the sun ? if thou didst then behold that compound .
+
+You rogue , here's lime in this sack too : there is nothing but roguery to be found in villanous man : yet a coward is worse than a cup of sack with lime in it , a villanous coward ! Go thy ways , old Jack ; die when thou wilt . If manhood , good manhood , be not forgot upon the face of the earth , then am I a shotten herring . There live not three good men unhanged in England , and one of them is fat and grows old : God help the while ! a bad world , I say . I would I were a weaver ; I could sing psalms or anything . A plague of all cowards , I say still .
+
+How now , wool-sack ! what mutter you ?
+
+A king's son ! If I do not beat thee out of thy kingdom with a dagger of lath , and drive all thy subjects afore thee like a flock of wild geese , I'll never wear hair on my face more . You Prince of Wales !
+
+Why , you whoreson round man , what's the matter ?
+
+Are you not a coward ? answer me to that ; and Poins there ?
+
+'Zounds ! ye fat paunch , an ye call me coward , I'll stab thee .
+
+I call thee coward ! I'll see thee damned ere I call thee coward ; but I would give a thousand pound I could run as fast as thou canst . You are straight enough in the shoulders ; you care not who sees your back : call you that backing of your friends ? A plague upon such backing ! give me them that will face me . Give me a cup of sack : I am a rogue if I drunk to-day .
+
+O villain ! thy lips are scarce wiped since thou drunkest last .
+
+All's one for that .
+
+A plague of all cowards , still say I .
+
+What's the matter ?
+
+What's the matter ? there be four of us here have ta'en a thousand pound this day morning .
+
+Where is it , Jack ? where is it ?
+
+Where is it ! taken from us it is : a hundred upon poor four of us .
+
+What , a hundred , man ?
+
+I am a rogue , if I were not at half-sword with a dozen of them two hours together . I have 'scap'd by miracle . I am eight times thrust through the doublet , four through the hose ; my buckler out through and through ; my sword hacked like a hand-saw : ecce signum ! I never dealt better since I was a man : all would not do . A plague of all cowards ! Let them speak : if they speak more or less than truth , they are villains and the sons of darkness .
+
+Speak , sirs ; how was it ?
+
+We four set upon some dozen ,
+
+Sixteen , at least , my lord .
+
+And bound them .
+
+No , no , they were not bound .
+
+You rogue , they were bound , every man of them ; or I am a Jew else , an Ebrew Jew .
+
+As we were sharing , some six or seven fresh men set upon us ,
+
+And unbound the rest , and then come in the other .
+
+What , fought ye with them all ?
+
+All ! I know not what ye call all ; but if I fought not with fifty of them , I am a bunch of radish : if there were not two or three and fifty upon poor old Jack , then am I no two-legged creature .
+
+Pray God you have not murdered some of them .
+
+Nay , that's past praying for : I have peppered two of them : two I am sure I have paid , two rogues in buckram suits . I tell thee what , Hal , if I tell thee a lie , spit in my face , call me horse . Thou knowest my old ward ; here I lay , and thus I bore my point . Four rogues in buckram let drive at me ,
+
+What , four ? thou saidst but two even now .
+
+Four , Hal ; I told thee four .
+
+Ay , ay , he said four .
+
+These four came all a-front , and mainly thrust at me . I made me no more ado but took all their seven points in my target , thus .
+
+Seven ? why , there were but four even now .
+
+In buckram .
+
+Ay , four , in buckram suits .
+
+Seven , by these hilts , or I am a villain else .
+
+Prithee , let him alone ; we shall have more anon .
+
+Dost thou hear me , Hal ?
+
+Ay , and mark thee too , Jack .
+
+Do so , for it is worth the listening to .
+These nine in buckram that I told thee of ,
+
+So , two more already .
+
+Their points being broken ,
+
+Down fell their hose .
+
+Began to give me ground ; but I followed me close , came in foot and hand and with a thought seven of the eleven I paid .
+
+O monstrous ! eleven buckram men grown out of two .
+
+But , as the devil would have it , three misbegotten knaves in Kendal-green came at my back and let drive at me ; for it was so dark , Hal , that thou couldst not see thy hand .
+
+These lies are like the father that begets them ; gross as a mountain , open , palpable . Why , thou clay-brained guts , thou knotty-pated fool , thou whoreson , obscene , greasy tallowketch ,
+
+What , art thou mad ? art thou mad ? is not the truth the truth ?
+
+Why , how couldst thou know these men in Kendal-green , when it was so dark thou couldst not see thy hand ? come , tell us your reason : what sayest thou to this ?
+
+Come , your reason , Jack , your reason .
+
+What , upon compulsion ? 'Zounds ! an I were at the strappado , or all the racks in the world , I would not tell you on compulsion . Give you a reason on compulsion ! If reasons were as plenty as blackberries I would give no man a reason upon compulsion , I .
+
+I'll be no longer guilty of this sin : this sanguine coward , this bed-presser , this horseback-breaker , this huge hill of flesh ;
+
+'Sblood , you starveling , you elf-skin , you dried neat's-tongue , you bull's pizzle , you stock-fish ! O ! for breath to utter what is like thee ; you tailor's yard , you sheath , you bow-case , you vile standing-tuck ;
+
+Well , breathe awhile , and then to it again ; and when thou hast tired thyself in base comparisons , hear me speak but this .
+
+Mark , Jack .
+
+We two saw you four set on four and you bound them , and were masters of their wealth . Mark now , how a plain tale shall put you down . Then did we two set on you four , and , with a word , out-faced you from your prize , and have it ; yea , and can show it you here in the house . And , Falstaff , you carried your guts away as nimbly , with as quick dexterity , and roared for mercy , and still ran and roared , as ever I heard bull-calf . What a slave art thou , to hack thy sword as thou hast done , and then say it was in fight ! What trick , what device , what starting-hole canst thou now find out to hide thee from this open and apparent shame ?
+
+Come , let's hear , Jack ; what trick hast thou now ?
+
+By the Lord , I knew ye as well as he that made ye . Why , hear you , my masters : was it for me to kill the heir-apparent ? Should I turn upon the true prince ? Why , thou knowest I am as valiant as Hercules ; but beware instinct ; the lion will not touch the true prince . Instinct is a great matter , I was a coward on instinct . I shall think the better of myself and thee during my life ; I for a valiant lion , and thou for a true prince . But , by the Lord , lads , I am glad you have the money . Hostess , clap to the doors : watch to-night , pray to-morrow . Gallants , lads , boys , hearts of gold , all the titles of good fellowship come to you ! What ! shall we be merry ? shall we have a play extempore ?
+
+Content ; and the argument shall be thy running away .
+
+Ah ! no more of that , Hal , an thou lovest me !
+
+
+O Jesu ! my lord the prince !
+
+How now , my lady the hostess ! what sayest thou to me ?
+
+Marry , my lord , there is a nobleman of the court at door would speak with you : he says he comes from your father .
+
+Give him as much as will make him a royal man , and send him back again to my mother .
+
+What manner of man is he ?
+
+An old man .
+
+What doth gravity out of his bed at midnight ? Shall I give him his answer ?
+
+Prithee , do , Jack .
+
+Faith , and I'll send him packing .
+
+
+Now , sirs : by'r lady , you fought fair ; so did you , Peto ; so did you , Bardolph : you are lions too , you ran away upon instinct , you will not touch the true prince ; no , fie !
+
+Faith , I ran when I saw others run .
+
+Faith , tell me now in earnest , how came Falstaff's sword so hacked ?
+
+Why he hacked it with his dagger , and said he would swear truth out of England but he would make you believe it was done in fight , and persuaded us to do the like .
+
+Yea , and to tickle our noses with spear-grass to make them bleed , and then to beslubber our garments with it and swear it was the blood of true men . I did that I did not this seven year before ; I blushed to hear his monstrous devices .
+
+O villain ! thou stolest a cup of sack eighteen years ago , and wert taken with the manner , and ever since thou hast blushed extempore . Thou hadst fire and sword on thy side , and yet thou rannest away . What instinct hadst thou for it ?
+
+My lord , do you see these meteors ? do you behold these exhalations ?
+
+I do .
+
+What think you they portend ?
+
+Hot livers and cold purses .
+
+Choler , my lord , if rightly taken .
+
+No , if rightly taken , halter .
+
+Here comes lean Jack , here comes bare-bone .How now , my sweet creature of bombast ! How long is't ago , Jack , since thou sawest thine own knee ?
+
+My own knee ! when I was about thy years , Hal , I was not an eagle's talon in the waist ; I could have crept into any alderman's thumb-ring . A plague of sighing and grief ! it blows a man up like a bladder . There's villanous news abroad : here was Sir John Bracy from your father : you must to the court in the morning . That same mad fellow of the north , Percy , and he of Wales , that gave Amaimon the bastinado and made Lucifer cuckold , and swore the devil his true liegeman upon the cross of a Welsh hook what a plague call you him ?
+
+Owen Glendower .
+
+Owen , Owen , the same ; and his son-in-law Mortimer and old Northumberland ; and that sprightly Scot of Scots , Douglas , that runs o' horseback up a hill perpendicular .
+
+He that rides at high speed and with his pistol kills a sparrow flying .
+
+You have hit it .
+
+So did he never the sparrow .
+
+Well , that rascal hath good mettle in him ; he will not run .
+
+Why , what a rascal art thou then to praise him so for running !
+
+O' horseback , ye cuckoo ! but , afoot he will not budge a foot .
+
+Yes , Jack , upon instinct .
+
+I grant ye , upon instinct . Well , he is there too , and one Mordake , and a thousand blue-caps more . Worcester is stolen away to-night ; thy father's beard is turned white with the news : you may buy land now as cheap as stinking mackerel .
+
+Why then , it is like , if there come a hot June and this civil buffeting hold , we shall buy maidenheads as they buy hob-nails , by the hundreds .
+
+By the mass , lad , thou sayest true ; it is like we shall have good trading that way . But tell me , Hal , art thou not horribly afeard ? thou being heir apparent , could the world pick thee out three such enemies again as that fiend Douglas , that spirit Percy , and that devil Glendower ? Art thou not horribly afraid ? doth not thy blood thrill at it ?
+
+Not a whit , i' faith ; I lack some of thy instinct .
+
+Well , thou wilt be horribly chid to-morrow when thou comest to thy father : if thou love me , practise an answer .
+
+Do thou stand for my father , and examine me upon the particulars of my life .
+
+Shall I ? content : this chair shall be my state , this dagger my sceptre , and this cushion my crown .
+
+Thy state is taken for a joint-stool , thy golden sceptre for a leaden dagger , and thy precious rich crown for a pitiful bald crown !
+
+Well , an the fire of grace be not quite out of thee , now shalt thou be moved . Give me a cup of sack to make mine eyes look red , that it may be thought I have wept ; for I must speak in passion , and I will do it in King Cambyses' vein .
+
+
+Well , here is my leg .
+
+
+And here is my speech . Stand aside , nobility .
+
+O Jesu ! This is excellent sport , i' faith !
+
+Weep not , sweet queen , for trickling tears are vain .
+
+O , the father ! how he holds his countenance .
+
+For God's sake , lords , convey my tristful queen ,
+For tears do stop the flood-gates of her eyes .
+
+O Jesu ! he doth it as like one of these harlotry players as ever I see !
+
+Peace , good pint-pot ! peace , good tickle-brain ! Harry , I do not only marvel where thou spendest thy time , but also how thou art accompanied : for though the camomile , the more it is trodden on the faster it grows , yet youth , the more it is wasted the sooner it wears . That thou art my son , I have partly thy mother's word , partly my own opinion ; but chiefly , a villanous trick of thine eye and a foolish hanging of thy nether lip , that doth warrant me . If then thou be son to me , here lies the point ; why , being son to me , art thou so pointed at ? Shall the blessed sun of heaven prove a micher and eat blackberries ? a question not to be asked . Shall the son of England prove a thief and take purses ? a question to be asked . There is a thing , Harry , which thou hast often heard of , and it is known to many in our land by the name of pitch : this pitch , as ancient writers do report , doth defile ; so doth the company thou keepest ; for , Harry , now I do not speak to thee in drink , but in tears , not in pleasure but in passion , not in words only , but in woes also . And yet there is a virtuous man whom I have often noted in thy company , but I know not his name .
+
+What manner of man , an it like your majesty ?
+
+A goodly portly man , i' faith , and a corpulent ; of a cheerful look , a pleasing eye , and a most noble carriage ; and , as I think , his age some fifty , or by'r lady , inclining to threescore ; and now I remember me , his name is Falstaff : if that man should be lewdly given , he deceiveth me ; for , Harry , I see virtue in his looks . If then the tree may be known by the fruit , as the fruit by the tree , then , peremptorily I speak it , there is virtue in that Falstaff : him keep with , the rest banish . And tell me now , thou naughty varlet , tell me , where hast thou been this month ?
+
+Dost thou speak like a king ? Do thou stand for me , and I'll play my father .
+
+Depose me ? if thou dost it half so gravely , so majestically , both in word and matter , hang me up by the heels for a rabbit-sucker or a poulter's hare .
+
+Well , here I am set .
+
+And here I stand . Judge , my masters .
+
+Now , Harry ! whence come you ?
+
+My noble lord , from Eastcheap .
+
+The complaints I hear of thee are grievous .
+
+'Sblood , my lord , they are false : nay ,
+I'll tickle ye for a young prince , i' faith .
+
+Swearest thou , ungracious boy ? henceforth ne'er look on me . Thou art violently carried away from grace : there is a devil haunts thee in the likeness of a fat old man ; a tun of man is thy companion . Why dost thou converse with that trunk of humours , that bolting-hutch of beastliness , that swoln parcel of dropsies , that huge bombard of sack , that stuffed cloak-bag of guts , that roasted Manningtree ox with the pudding in his belly , that reverend vice , that grey iniquity , that father ruffian , that vanity in years ? Wherein is he good but to taste sack and drink it ? wherein neat and cleanly but to carve a capon and eat it ? wherein cunning but in craft ? wherein crafty but in villany ? wherein villanous but in all things ? wherein worthy but in nothing ?
+
+I would your Grace would take me with you : whom means your Grace ?
+
+That villanous abominable misleader of youth , Falstaff , that old white-bearded Satan .
+
+My lord , the man I know .
+
+I know thou dost .
+
+But to say I know more harm in him than in myself were to say more than I know . That he is old , the more the pity , his white hairs do witness it ; but that he is , saving your reverence , a whoremaster , that I utterly deny . If sack and sugar be a fault , God help the wicked ! If to be old and merry be a sin , then many an old host that I know is damned : if to be fat be to be hated , then Pharaoh's lean kine are to be loved . No , my good lord ; banish Peto , banish Bardolph , banish Poins ; but for sweet Jack Falstaff , kind Jack Falstaff , true Jack Falstaff , valiant Jack Falstaff , and therefore more valiant , being , as he is , old Jack Falstaff , banish not him thy Harry's company : banish not him thy Harry's company : banish plump Jack , and banish all the world .
+
+I do , I will .
+
+
+O ! my lord , my lord , the sheriff with a most monstrous watch is at the door .
+
+Out , ye rogue ! Play out the play : I have much to say in the behalf of that Falstaff .
+
+
+O Jesu ! my lord , my lord !
+
+Heigh , heigh ! the devil rides upon a fiddle-stick : what's the matter ?
+
+The sheriff and all the watch are at the door : they are come to search the house . Shall I let them in ?
+
+Dost thou hear , Hal ? never call a true piece of gold a counterfeit : thou art essentially mad without seeming so .
+
+And thou a natural coward without instinct .
+
+I deny your major . If you will deny the sheriff , so ; if not , let him enter : if I become not a cart as well as another man , a plague on my bringing up ! I hope I shall as soon be strangled with a halter as another .
+
+Go , hide thee behind the arras : the rest walk up above . Now , my masters , for a true face and good conscience .
+
+Both which I have had ; but their date is out , and therefore I'll hide me .
+
+
+Call in the sheriff .
+
+Now , master sheriff , what's your will with me ?
+
+First , pardon me , my lord . A hue and cry
+Hath follow'd certain men unto this house .
+
+What men ?
+
+One of them is well known , my gracious lord ,
+A gross fat man .
+
+As fat as butter .
+
+The man , I do assure you , is not here ,
+For I myself at this time have employ'd him .
+And , sheriff , I will engage my word to thee ,
+That I will , by to-morrow dinner-time ,
+Send him to answer thee , or any man ,
+For anything he shall be charg'd withal :
+And so let me entreat you leave the house .
+
+I will , my lord . There are two gentlemen
+Have in this robbery lost three hundred marks .
+
+It may be so : if he have robb'd these men ,
+He shall be answerable ; and so farewell .
+
+Good night , my noble lord .
+
+I think it is good morrow , is it not ?
+
+Indeed , my lord , I think it be two o'clock .
+
+
+This oily rascal is known as well as Paul's .
+Go , call him forth .
+
+Falstaff ! fast asleep behind the arras , and snorting like a horse .
+
+Hark , how hard he fetches breath .
+Search his pockets .
+
+What hast thou found ?
+
+Nothing but papers , my lord .
+
+Let's see what they be : read them .
+
+
+O monstrous ! but one half-pennyworth of bread to this intolerable deal of sack ! What there is else , keep close ; we'll read it at more advantage . There let him sleep till day . I'll to the court in the morning . We must all to the wars , and thy place shall be honourable . I'll procure this fat rogue a charge of foot ; and , I know , his death will be a march of twelve-score . The money shall be paid back again with advantage . Be with me betimes in the morning ; and so good morrow , Peto .
+
+Good morrow , good my lord .
+
+These promises are fair , the parties sure ,
+And our induction full of prosperous hope .
+
+Lord Mortimer , and cousin Glendower ,
+Will you sit down ?
+And uncle Worcester : a plague upon it !
+I have forgot the map .
+
+No , here it is .
+Sit , cousin Percy ; sit , good cousin Hotspur ;
+For by that name as oft as Lancaster
+Doth speak of you , his cheek looks pale and with
+A rising sigh he wishes you in heaven .
+
+And you in hell , as often as he hears
+Owen Glendower spoke of .
+
+I cannot blame him : at my nativity
+The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes ,
+Of burning cressets ; and at my birth
+The frame and huge foundation of the earth
+Shak'd like a coward .
+
+Why , so it would have done at the same season , if your mother's cat had but kittened , though yourself had never been born .
+
+I say the earth did shake when I was born .
+
+And I say the earth was not of my mind ,
+If you suppose as fearing you it shook .
+
+The heavens were all on fire , the earth did tremble .
+
+O ! then the earth shook to see the heavens on fire ,
+And not in fear of your nativity .
+Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth
+In strange eruptions ; oft the teeming earth
+Is with a kind of colic pinch'd and vex'd
+By the imprisoning of unruly wind
+Within her womb ; which , for enlargement striving ,
+Shakes the old beldam earth , and topples down
+Steeples and moss-grown towers . At your birth
+Our grandam earth , having this distemperature ,
+In passion shook .
+
+Cousin , of many men
+I do not bear these crossings . Give me leave
+To tell you once again that at my birth
+The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes ,
+The goats ran from the mountains , and the herds
+Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields .
+These signs have mark'd me extraordinary ;
+And all the courses of my life do show
+I am not in the roll of common men .
+Where is he living , clipp'd in with the sea
+That chides the banks of England , Scotland , Wales ,
+Which calls me pupil , or hath read to me ?
+And bring him out that is but woman's son
+Can trace me in the tedious ways of art
+And hold me pace in deep experiments .
+
+I think there's no man speaks better Welsh .
+I'll to dinner .
+
+Peace , cousin Percy ! you will make him mad .
+
+I can call spirits from the vasty deep .
+
+Why , so can I , or so can any man ;
+But will they come when you do call for them ?
+
+Why , I can teach thee , cousin , to command
+The devil .
+
+And I can teach thee , coz , to shame the devil
+By telling truth : tell truth and shame the devil .
+If thou have power to raise him , bring him hither ,
+And I'll be sworn I have power to shame him hence .
+O ! while you live , tell truth and shame the devil !
+
+Come , come ;
+No more of this unprofitable chat .
+
+Three times hath Henry Bolingbroke made head
+Against my power ; thrice from the banks of Wye
+And sandy-bottom'd Severn have I sent him
+Bootless home and weather-beaten back .
+
+Home without boots , and in foul weather too !
+How 'scapes he agues , in the devil's name ?
+
+Come , here's the map : shall we divide our right
+According to our threefold order ta'en ?
+
+The archdeacon hath divided it
+Into three limits very equally .
+England , from Trent and Severn hitherto ,
+By south and east , is to my part assign'd :
+All westward , Wales beyond the Severn shore ,
+And all the fertile land within that bound ,
+To Owen Glendower : and , dear coz , to you
+The remnant northward , lying off from Trent .
+And our indentures tripartite are drawn ,
+Which being sealed interchangeably ,
+A business that this night may execute ,
+To-morrow , cousin Percy , you and I
+And my good Lord of Worcester will set forth
+To meet your father and the Scottish power ,
+As is appointed us , at Shrewsbury .
+My father Glendower is not ready yet ,
+Nor shall we need his help these fourteen days .
+
+
+Within that space you may have drawn together
+Your tenants , friends , and neighbouring gentlemen .
+
+A shorter time shall send me to you , lords ;
+And in my conduct shall your ladies come ,
+From whom you now must steal and take no leave ;
+For there will be a world of water shed
+Upon the parting of your wives and you .
+
+Methinks my moiety , north from Burton here ,
+In quantity equals not one of yours :
+See how this river comes me cranking in ,
+And cuts me from the best of all my land
+A huge half-moon , a monstrous cantle out .
+I'll have the current in this place damm'd up ,
+And here the smug and silver Trent shall run
+In a new channel , fair and evenly :
+It shall not wind with such a deep indent ,
+To rob me of so rich a bottom here .
+
+Not wind ! it shall , it must ; you see it doth .
+
+Yea , but
+Mark how he bears his course , and runs me up
+With like advantage on the other side ;
+Gelding the opposed continent as much ,
+As on the other side it takes from you .
+
+Yea , but a little charge will trench him here ,
+And on this north side win this cape of land ;
+And then he runs straight and even .
+
+I'll have it so ; a little charge will do it .
+
+I will not have it alter'd .
+
+Will not you ?
+
+No , nor you shall not .
+
+Who shall say me nay ?
+
+Why , that will I .
+
+Let me not understand you then :
+Speak it in Welsh .
+
+I can speak English , lord , as well as you ,
+For I was train'd up in the English court ;
+Where , being but young , I framed to the harp
+Many an English ditty lovely well ,
+And gave the tongue an helpful ornament ;
+A virtue that was never seen in you .
+
+Marry , and I'm glad of it with all my heart .
+I had rather be a kitten , and cry mew
+Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers ;
+I had rather hear a brazen canstick turn'd ,
+Or a dry wheel grate on the axle-tree ;
+And that would set my teeth nothing on edge ,
+Nothing so much as mincing poetry :
+'Tis like the forc'd gait of a shuffling nag .
+
+Come , you shall have Trent turn'd .
+
+I do not care : I'll give thrice so much land
+To any well-deserving friend ;
+But in the way of bargain , mark you me ,
+I'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair .
+Are the indentures drawn ? shall we be gone ?
+
+The moon shines fair , you may away by night :
+I'll haste the writer and withal
+Break with your wives of your departure hence :
+I am afraid my daughter will run mad ,
+So much she doteth on her Mortimer .
+
+
+Fie , cousin Percy ! how you cross my father !
+
+I cannot choose : sometimes he angers me
+With telling me of the moldwarp and the ant ,
+Of the dreamer Merlin and his prophecies ,
+And of a dragon , and a finless fish ,
+A clip-wing'd griffin , and a moulten raven ,
+A couching lion , and a ramping cat ,
+And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff
+As puts me from my faith . I'll tell thee what ;
+He held me last night at least nine hours
+In reckoning up the several devils' names
+That were his lackeys : I cried 'hum !' and 'well , go to .'
+But mark'd him not a word . O ! he's as tedious
+As a tired horse , a railing wife ;
+Worse than a smoky house . I had rather live
+With cheese and garlick in a windmill , far ,
+Than feed on cates and have him talk to me
+In any summer-house in Christendom .
+
+In faith , he is a worthy gentleman ,
+Exceedingly well read , and profited
+In strange concealments , valiant as a lion
+And wondrous affable , and as bountiful
+As mines of India . Shall I tell you , cousin ?
+He holds your temper in a high respect ,
+And curbs himself even of his natural scope
+When you do cross his humour ; faith , he does .
+I warrant you , that man is not alive
+Might so have tempted him as you have done ,
+Without the taste of danger and reproof :
+But do not use it oft , let me entreat you .
+
+In faith , my lord , you are too wilfulblame ;
+And since your coming hither have done enough
+To put him quite beside his patience .
+You must needs learn , lord , to amend this fault :
+Though sometimes it show greatness , courage , blood ,
+And that's the dearest grace it renders you ,
+Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage ,
+Defect of manners , want of government ,
+Pride , haughtiness , opinion , and disdain :
+The least of which haunting a nobleman
+Loseth men's hearts and leaves behind a stain
+Upon the beauty of all parts besides ,
+Beguiling them of commendation .
+
+Well , I am school'd ; good manners be your speed !
+Here come our wives , and let us take our leave .
+
+
+This is the deadly spite that angers me ,
+My wife can speak no English , I no Welsh .
+
+My daughter weeps ; she will not part with you :
+She'll be a soldier too : she'll to the wars .
+
+Good father , tell her that she and my aunt Percy ,
+Shall follow in your conduct speedily .
+
+
+She's desperate here ; a peevish self-will'd harlotry , one that no persuasion can do good upon .
+
+
+I understand thy looks : that pretty Welsh
+Which thou pour'st down from these swelling heavens
+I am too perfect in ; and , but for shame ,
+In such a parley would I answer thee .
+
+I understand thy kisses and thou mine ,
+And that's a feeling disputation :
+But I will never be a truant , love ,
+Till I have learn'd thy language ; for thy tongue
+Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd ,
+Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower ,
+With ravishing division , to her lute .
+
+Nay , if you melt , then will she run mad .
+
+
+O ! I am ignorance itself in this .
+
+She bids you
+Upon the wanton rushes lay you down
+And rest your gentle head upon her lap ,
+And she will sing the song that pleaseth you ,
+And on your eye-lids crown the god of sleep ,
+Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness ,
+Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep
+As is the difference between day and night
+The hour before the heavenly-harness'd team
+Begins his golden progress in the east .
+
+With all my heart I'll sit and hear her sing :
+By that time will our book , I think , be drawn .
+
+Do so ;
+And those musicians that shall play to you
+Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence ,
+And straight they shall be here : sit , and attend .
+
+Come , Kate , thou art perfect in lying down : come , quick , quick , that I may lay my head in thy lap .
+
+Go , ye giddy goose .
+
+
+Now I perceive the devil understands Welsh ;
+And 'tis no marvel he is so humorous .
+By'r lady , he's a good musician .
+
+Then should you be nothing but musical for you are altogether governed by humours . Lie still , ye thief , and hear the lady sing in Welsh .
+
+I had rather hear Lady , my brach , how ! in Irish .
+
+Wouldst thou have thy head broken ?
+
+No .
+
+Then be still .
+
+Neither ; 'tis a woman's fault .
+
+Now , God help thee !
+
+To the Welsh lady's bed .
+
+What's that ?
+
+Peace ! she sings .
+
+
+Come , Kate , I'll have your song too .
+
+Not mine , in good sooth .
+
+Not yours , 'in good sooth !' Heart ! you swear like a comfit-maker's wife ! Not you , 'in good sooth ;' and , 'as true as I live ;' and , 'as God shall mend me ;' and , 'as sure as day :'
+And giv'st such sarcenet surety for thy oaths ,
+As if thou never walk'dst further than Finsbury .
+Swear me , Kate , like a lady as thou art ,
+A good mouth-filling oath ; and leave 'in sooth ,'
+And such protest of pepper-gingerbread ,
+To velvet-guards and Sunday-citizens .
+Come , sing .
+
+I will not sing .
+
+'Tis the next way to turn tailor or be red-breast teacher . An the indentures be drawn , I'll away within these two hours ; and so , come in when ye will .
+
+
+Come , come , Lord Mortimer ; you are as slow
+As hot Lord Percy is on fire to go .
+By this our book is drawn ; we will but seal ,
+And then to horse immediately .
+
+With all my heart .
+
+
+Lords , give us leave ; the Prince of Wales and I
+Must have some private conference : but be near at hand ,
+For we shall presently have need of you .
+
+I know not whether God will have it so ,
+For some displeasing service I have done ,
+That , in his secret doom , out of my blood
+He'll breed revengement and a scourge for me ;
+But thou dost in thy passages of life
+Make me believe that thou art only mark'd
+For the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven
+To punish my mistreadings . Tell me else ,
+Could such inordinate and low desires ,
+Such poor , such bare , such lewd , such mean attempts ,
+Such barren pleasures , rude society ,
+As thou art match'd withal and grafted to ,
+Accompany the greatness of thy blood
+And hold their level with thy princely heart ?
+
+So please your majesty , I would I could
+Quit all offences with as clear excuse
+As well as I am doubtless I can purge
+Myself of many I am charg'd withal :
+Yet such extenuation let me beg ,
+As , in reproof of many tales devis'd ,
+Which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear ,
+By smiling pick-thanks and base newsmongers ,
+I may , for some things true , wherein my youth
+Hath faulty wander'd and irregular ,
+Find pardon on my true submission .
+
+God pardon thee ! yet let me wonder , Harry ,
+At thy affections , which do hold a wing
+Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors .
+Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost ,
+Which by thy younger brother is supplied ,
+And art almost an alien to the hearts
+Of all the court and princes of my blood .
+The hope and expectation of thy time
+Is ruin'd , and the soul of every man
+Prophetically do forethink thy fall .
+Had I so lavish of my presence been ,
+So common-hackney'd in the eyes of men ,
+So stale and cheap to vulgar company ,
+Opinion , that did help me to the crown ,
+Had still kept loyal to possession
+And left me in reputeless banishment ,
+A fellow of no mark nor likelihood .
+By being seldom seen , I could not stir ,
+But like a comet I was wonder'd at ;
+That men would tell their children , 'This is he ;'
+Others would say , 'Where ? which is Bolingbroke ?'
+And then I stole all courtesy from heaven ,
+And dress'd myself in such humility
+That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts ,
+Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths ,
+Even in the presence of the crowned king .
+Thus did I keep my person fresh and new ;
+My presence , like a robe pontifical ,
+Ne'er seen but wonder'd at : and so my state ,
+Seldom but sumptuous , showed like a feast ,
+And won by rareness such solemnity .
+The skipping king , he ambled up and down
+With shallow jesters and rash bavin wits ,
+Soon kindled and soon burnt ; carded his state ,
+Mingled his royalty with capering fools ,
+Had his great name profaned with their scorns ,
+And gave his countenance , against his name ,
+To laugh at gibing boys and stand the push
+Of every beardless vain comparative ;
+Grew a companion to the common streets ,
+Enfeoff'd himself to popularity ;
+That , being daily swallow'd by men's eyes ,
+They surfeited with honey and began
+To loathe the taste of sweetness , whereof a little
+More than a little is by much too much .
+So , when he had occasion to be seen ,
+He was but as the cuckoo is in June ,
+Heard , not regarded ; seen , but with such eyes
+As , sick and blunted with community ,
+Afford no extraordinary gaze ,
+Such as is bent on sun-like majesty
+When it shines seldom in admiring eyes ;
+But rather drows'd and hung their eyelids down ,
+Slept in his face , and render'd such aspect
+As cloudy men use to their adversaries ,
+Being with his presence glutted , gorg'd , and full .
+And in that very line , Harry , stand'st thou ;
+For thou hast lost thy princely privilege
+With vile participation : not an eye
+But is aweary of thy common sight ,
+Save mine , which hath desir'd to see thee more ;
+Which now doth that I would not have it do ,
+Make blind itself with foolish tenderness .
+
+I shall hereafter , my thrice gracious lord ,
+Be more myself .
+
+For all the world ,
+As thou art to this hour was Richard then
+When I from France set foot at Ravenspurgh ;
+And even as I was then is Percy now .
+Now , by my sceptre and my soul to boot ,
+He hath more worthy interest to the state
+Than thou the shadow of succession ;
+For of no right , nor colour like to right ,
+He doth fill fields with harness in the realm ,
+Turns head against the lion's armed jaws ,
+And , being no more in debt to years than thou ,
+Leads ancient lords and reverend bishops on
+To bloody battles and to bruising arms .
+What never-dying honour hath he got
+Against renowned Douglas ! whose high deeds ,
+Whose hot incursions and great name in arms ,
+Holds from all soldiers chief majority ,
+And military title capital ,
+Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ .
+Thrice hath this Hotspur , Mars in swathling clothes ,
+This infant warrior , in his enterprises
+Discomfited great Douglas ; ta'en him once ,
+Enlarged him and made a friend of him ,
+To fill the mouth of deep defiance up
+And shake the peace and safety of our throne .
+And what say you to this ? Percy , Northumberland ,
+The Archbishop's Grace of York , Douglas , Mortimer ,
+Capitulate against us and are up .
+But wherefore do I tell these news to thee ?
+Why , Harry , do I tell thee of my foes ,
+Which art my near'st and dearest enemy ?
+Thou that art like enough , through vassal fear ,
+Base inclination , and the start of spleen ,
+To fight against me under Percy's pay ,
+To dog his heels , and curtsy at his frowns ,
+To show how much thou art degenerate .
+
+Do not think so ; you shall not find it so :
+And God forgive them , that so much have sway'd
+Your majesty's good thoughts away from me !
+I will redeem all this on Percy's head ,
+And in the closing of some glorious day
+Be bold to tell you that I am your son ;
+When I will wear a garment all of blood
+And stain my favours in a bloody mask ,
+Which , wash'd away , shall scour my shame with it :
+And that shall be the day , whene'er it lights ,
+That this same child of honour and renown ,
+This gallant Hotspur , this all-praised knight ,
+And your unthought of Harry chance to meet .
+For every honour sitting on his helm ,
+Would they were multitudes , and on my head
+My shames redoubled !for the time will come
+That I shall make this northern youth exchange
+His glorious deeds for my indignities .
+Percy is but my factor , good my lord ,
+To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf ;
+And I will call him to so strict account
+That he shall render every glory up ,
+Yea , even the slightest worship of his time ,
+Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart .
+This , in the name of God , I promise here :
+The which , if he be pleas'd I shall perform ,
+I do beseech your majesty may salve
+The long-grown wounds of my intemperance :
+If not , the end of life cancels all bands ,
+And I will die a hundred thousand deaths
+Ere break the smallest parcel of this vow .
+
+A hundred thousand rebels die in this :
+Thou shalt have charge and sovereign trust herein .
+
+How now , good Blunt ! thy looks are full of speed .
+
+So hath the business that I come to speak of .
+Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word
+That Douglas and the English rebels met ,
+The eleventh of this month at Shrewsbury .
+A mighty and a fearful head they are ,
+If promises be kept on every hand ,
+As ever offer'd foul play in a state .
+
+The Earl of Westmoreland set forth to-day ,
+With him my son , Lord John of Lancaster ;
+For this advertisement is five days old .
+On Wednesday next , Harry , you shall set forward ;
+On Thursday we ourselves will march : our meeting
+Is Bridgenorth ; and Harry , you shall march
+Through Gloucestershire ; by which account ,
+Our business valued , some twelve days hence
+Our general forces at Bridgenorth shall meet .
+Our hands are full of business : let's away ;
+Advantage feeds him fat while men delay .
+
+
+Bardolph , am I not fallen away vilely since this last action ? do I not bate ? do I not dwindle ? Why , my skin hangs about me like an old lady's loose gown ; I am withered like an old apple-john . Well , I'll repent , and that suddenly , while I am in some liking ; I shall be out of heart shortly , and then I shall have no strength to repent . An I have not forgotten what the inside of a church is made of , I am a peppercorn , a brewer's horse : the inside of a church ! Company , villanous company , hath been the spoil of me .
+
+Sir John , you are so fretful , you cannot live long .
+
+Why , there is it : come , sing me a bawdy song ; make me merry . I was as virtuously given as a gentleman need to be ; virtuous enough : swore little ; diced not above seven times a week ; went to a bawdy-house not above once in a quarter of an hour ; paid money that I borrowed three or four times ; lived well and in good compass ; and now I live out of all order , out of all compass .
+
+Why , you are so fat , Sir John , that you must needs be out of all compass , out of all reasonable compass , Sir John .
+
+Do thou amend thy face , and I'll amend my life : thou art our admiral , thou bearest the lanthorn in the poop , but 'tis in the nose of thee : thou art the Knight of the Burning Lamp .
+
+Why , Sir John , my face does you no harm .
+
+No , I'll be sworn ; I make as good use of it as many a man doth of a Death's head , or a memento mori : I never see thy face but I think upon hell-fire and Dives that lived in purple ; for there he is in his robes , burning , burning . If thou wert any way given to virtue , I would swear by thy face ; my oath should be , 'By this fire , that's God's angel :' but thou art altogether given over , and wert indeed , but for the light in thy face , the son of utter darkness . When thou rannest up Gadshill in the night to catch my horse , if I did not think thou hadst been an igius fatuus or a ball of wildfire , there's no purchase in money . O ! thou art a perpetual triumph , an everlasting bonfire-light . Thou hast saved me a thousand marks in links and torches , walking with thee in the night betwixt tavern and tavern : but the sack that thou hast drunk me would have bought me lights as good cheap at the dearest chandler's in Europe . I have maintained that salamander of yours with fire any time this two-and-thirty years ; God reward me for it !
+
+'Sblood , I would my face were in your belly .
+
+God-a-mercy ! so should I be sure to be heart-burned .
+
+How now , Dame Partlet the hen ! have you inquired yet who picked my pocket ?
+
+Why , Sir John , what do you think , Sir John ? Do you think I keep thieves in my house ? I have searched , I have inquired , so has my husband , man by man , boy by boy , servant by servant : the tithe of a hair was never lost in my house before .
+
+You lie , hostess : Bardolph was shaved and lost many a hair ; and I'll be sworn my pocket was picked . Go to , you are a woman ; go .
+
+Who , I ? No ; I defy thee : God's light !
+I was never called so in my own house before .
+
+Go to , I know you well enough .
+
+No , Sir John ; you do not know me , Sir John : I know you , Sir John : you owe me money , Sir John , and now you pick a quarrel to beguile me of it : I bought you a dozen of shirts to your back .
+
+Dowlas , filthy dowlas : I have given them away to bakers' wives , and they have made bolters of them .
+
+Now , as I am true woman , holland of eight shillings an ell . You owe money here besides , Sir John , for your diet and by-drinkings , and money lent you , four-and-twenty pound .
+
+He had his part of it ; let him pay .
+
+He ! alas ! he is poor ; he hath nothing .
+
+How ! poor ? look upon his face ; what call you rich ? let them coin his nose , let them coin his cheeks . I'll not pay a denier . What ! will you make a younker of me ? shall I not take mine ease in mine inn but I shall have my pocket picked ? I have lost a seal-ring of my grandfather's worth forty mark .
+
+O Jesu ! I have heard the prince tell him , I know not how oft , that that ring was copper .
+
+How ! the prince is a Jack , a sneak-cup ; 'sblood ! an he were here , I would cudgel him like a dog , if he would say so .
+
+
+How now , lad ! is the wind in that door , i' faith ? must we all march ?
+
+Yea , two and two , Newgate fashion .
+
+My lord , I pray you , hear me .
+
+What sayest thou , Mistress Quickly ?
+How does thy husband ? I love him well , he is an honest man .
+
+Good my lord , hear me .
+
+Prithee , let her alone , and list to me .
+
+What sayest thou , Jack ?
+
+The other night I fell asleep here behind the arras and had my pocket picked : this house is turned bawdy-house ; they pick pockets .
+
+What didst thou lose , Jack ?
+
+Wilt thou believe me , Hal ? three or four bonds of forty pound a-piece , and a seal-ring of my grandfather's .
+
+A trifle ; some eight-penny matter .
+
+So I told him , my lord ; and I said I heard your Grace say so : and , my lord , he speaks most vilely of you , like a foul-mouthed man as he is , and said he would cudgel you .
+
+What ! he did not ?
+
+There's neither faith , truth , nor womanhood in me else .
+
+There's no more faith in thee than in a stewed prune ; nor no more truth in thee than in a drawn fox ; and for womanhood , Maid Marian may be the deputy's wife of the ward to thee . Go , you thing , go .
+
+Say , what thing ? what thing ?
+
+What thing ! why , a thing to thank God on .
+
+I am no thing to thank God on , I would thou shouldst know it ; I am an honest man's wife ; and , setting thy knighthood aside , thou art a knave to call me so .
+
+Setting thy womanhood aside , thou art a beast to say otherwise .
+
+Say , what beast , thou knave thou ?
+
+What beast ! why , an otter .
+
+An otter , Sir John ! why , an otter ?
+
+Why ? she's neither fish nor flesh ; a man knows not where to have her .
+
+Thou art an unjust man in saying so : thou or any man knows where to have me , thou knave thou !
+
+Thou sayest true , hostess ; and he slanders thee most grossly .
+
+So he doth you , my lord ; and said this other day you ought him a thousand pound .
+
+Sirrah ! do I owe you a thousand pound ?
+
+A thousand pound , Hal ! a million : thy love is worth a million ; thou owest me thy love .
+
+Nay , my lord , he called you Jack , and said he would cudgel you .
+
+Did I , Bardolph ?
+
+Indeed , Sir John , you said so .
+
+Yea ; if he said my ring was copper .
+
+I say 'tis copper : darest thou be as good as thy word now ?
+
+Why , Hal , thou knowest , as thou art but man , I dare ; but as thou art prince , I fear thee as I fear the roaring of the lion s whelp .
+
+And why not as the lion ?
+
+The king himself is to be feared as the lion : dost thou think I'll fear thee as I fear thy father ? nay , an I do , I pray God my girdle break !
+
+O ! if it should , how would thy guts fall about thy knees . But , sirrah , there's no room for faith , truth , or honesty in this bosom of thine ; it is all filled up with guts and midriff . Charge an honest woman with picking thy pocket ! Why , thou whoreson , impudent , embossed rascal , if there were any thing in thy pocket but tavern reckonings , memorandums of bawdy-houses , and one poor pennyworth of sugar-candy to make thee long-winded ; if thy pocket were enriched with any other injuries but these , I am a villain . And yet you will stand to it , you will not pocket up wrong . Art thou not ashamed ?
+
+Dost thou hear , Hal ? thou knowest in the state of innocency Adam fell ; and what should poor Jack Falstaff do in the days of villany ? Thou seest I have more flesh than another man , and therefore more frailty . You confess then , you picked my pocket ?
+
+It appears so by the story .
+
+Hostess , I forgive thee . Go make ready breakfast ; love thy husband , look to thy servants , cherish thy guests : thou shalt find me tractable to any honest reason : thou seest I am pacified . Still ! Nay prithee , be gone .
+
+Now , Hal , to the news at court : for the robbery , lad , how is that answered ?
+
+O ! my sweet beef , I must still be good angel to thee : the money is paid back again .
+
+O ! I do not like that paying back ; 'tis a double labour .
+
+I am good friends with my father and may do anything .
+
+Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou dost , and do it with unwashed hands too .
+
+Do , my lord .
+
+I have procured thee , Jack , a charge of foot .
+
+I would it had been of horse . Where shall I find one that can steal well ? O ! for a fine thief , of the age of two-and-twenty , or thereabouts ; I am heinously unprovided . Well , God be thanked for these rebels ; they offend none but the virtuous : I laud them , I praise them .
+
+Bardolph !
+
+My lord ?
+
+Go bear this letter to Lord John of Lancaster ,
+To my brother John ; this to my Lord of Westmoreland .
+Go , Poins , to horse , to horse ! for thou and I
+Have thirty miles to ride ere dinner-time .
+Jack , meet me to-morrow in the Temple-hall
+At two o'clock in the afternoon :
+There shalt thou know thy charge , and there receive
+Money and order for their furniture .
+The land is burning ; Percy stands on high ;
+And either we or they must lower lie .
+
+
+Rare words ! brave world ! Hostess , my breakfast ; come !
+O ! I could wish this tavern were my drum .
+
+Well said , my noble Scot : if speaking truth
+In this fine age were not thought flattery ,
+Such attribution should the Douglas have ,
+As not a soldier of this season's stamp
+Should go so general current through the world .
+By God , I cannot flatter ; do defy
+The tongues of soothers ; but a braver place
+In my heart's love hath no man than yourself .
+Nay , task me to my word ; approve me , lord .
+
+Thou art the king of honour :
+No man so potent breathes upon the ground
+But I will beard him .
+
+Do so , and 'tis well .
+
+
+What letters hast thou there ?
+
+
+I can but thank you .
+
+These letters come from your father .
+
+Letters from him ! why comes he not himself ?
+
+He cannot come , my lord : he's grievous sick .
+
+'Zounds ! how has he the leisure to be sick
+In such a justling time ? Who leads his power ?
+Under whose government come they along ?
+
+His letters bear his mind , not I , my lord .
+
+I prithee , tell me , doth he keep his bed ?
+
+He did , my lord , four days ere I set forth ;
+And at the time of my departure thence
+He was much fear'd by his physicians .
+
+I would the state of time had first been whole
+Ere he by sickness had been visited :
+His health was never better worth than now .
+
+Sick now ! droop now ! this sickness doth infect
+The very life-blood of our enterprise ;
+'Tis catching hither , even to our camp ,
+He writes me here , that inward sickness
+And that his friends by deputation could not
+So soon be drawn ; nor did he think it meet
+To lay so dangerous and dear a trust
+On any soul remov'd but on his own .
+Yet doth he give us bold advertisement ,
+That with our small conjunction we should on ,
+To see how fortune is dispos'd to us ;
+For , as he writes , there is no quailing now ,
+Because the king is certainly possess'd
+Of all our purposes . What say you to it ?
+
+Your father's sickness is a maim to us .
+
+A perilous gash , a very limb lopp'd off :
+And yet , in faith , 'tis not ; his present want
+Seems more than we shall find it . Were it good
+To set the exact wealth of all our states
+All at one cast ? to set so rich a main
+On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour ?
+It were not good ; for therein should we read
+The very bottom and the soul of hope ,
+The very list , the very utmost bound
+Of all our fortunes .
+
+Faith , and so we should ;
+Where now remains a sweet reversion :
+We may boldly spend upon the hope of what
+Is to come in :
+A comfort of retirement lives in this .
+
+A rendezvous , a home to fly unto ,
+If that the devil and mischance look big
+Upon the maidenhead of our affairs .
+
+But yet , I would your father had been here .
+The quality and hair of our attempt
+Brooks no division . It will be thought
+By some , that know not why he is away ,
+That wisdom , loyalty , and mere dislike
+Of our proceedings , kept the earl from hence .
+And think how such an apprehension
+May turn the tide of fearful faction
+And breed a kind of question in our cause ;
+For well you know we of the offering side
+Must keep aloof from strict arbitrement ,
+And stop all sight-holes , every loop from whence
+The eye of reason may pry in upon us :
+This absence of your father's draws a curtain ,
+That shows the ignorant a kind of fear
+Before not dreamt of .
+
+You strain too far .
+I rather of his absence make this use :
+It lends a lustre and more great opinion ,
+A larger dare to our great enterprise ,
+Than if the earl were here ; for men must think ,
+If we without his help , can make a head
+To push against the kingdom , with his help
+We shall o'erturn it topsy-turvy down .
+Yet all goes well , yet all our joints are whole .
+
+As heart can think : there is not such a word
+Spoke of in Scotland as this term of fear .
+
+
+My cousin Vernon ! welcome , by my soul .
+
+Pray God my news be worth a welcome , lord .
+The Earl of Westmoreland , seven thousand strong ,
+Is marching hitherwards ; with him Prince John .
+
+No harm : what more ?
+
+And further , I have learn'd ,
+The king himself in person is set forth ,
+Or hitherwards intended speedily ,
+With strong and mighty preparation .
+
+He shall be welcome too . Where is his son ,
+The nimble-footed madcap Prince of Wales ,
+And his comrades , that daff'd the world aside ,
+And bid it pass ?
+
+All furnish'd , all in arms ,
+All plum'd like estridges that wing the wind ,
+Baited like eagles having lately bath'd ,
+Glittering in golden coats , like images ,
+As full of spirit as the month of May ,
+And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer ,
+Wanton as youthful goats , wild as young bulls .
+I saw young Harry , with his beaver on ,
+His cushes on his thighs , gallantly arm'd ,
+Rise from the ground like feather'd Mercury ,
+And vaulted with such ease into his seat ,
+As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds ,
+To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus
+And witch the world with noble horsemanship .
+
+No more , no more : worse than the sun in March
+This praise doth nourish agues . Let them come ;
+They come like sacrifices in their trim ,
+And to the fire-ey'd maid of smoky war
+All hot and bleeding will we offer them :
+The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit
+Up to the ears in blood . I am on fire
+To hear this rich reprisal is so nigh
+And yet not ours . Come , let me taste my horse ,
+Who is to bear me like a thunderbolt
+Against the bosom of the Prince of Wales :
+Harry to Harry shall , hot horse to horse ,
+Meet and ne'er part till one drop down a corse .
+O ! that Glendower were come .
+
+There is more news :
+I learn'd in Worcester , as I rode along ,
+He cannot draw his power these fourteen days .
+
+That's the worst tidings that I hear of yet .
+
+Ay , by my faith , that bears a frosty sound .
+
+What may the king's whole battle reach unto ?
+
+To thirty thousand .
+
+Forty let it be :
+My father and Glendower being both away ,
+The powers of us may serve so great a day .
+Come , let us take a muster speedily :
+Doomsday is near ; die all , die merrily .
+
+Talk not of dying : I am out of fear
+Of death or death's hand for this one half year .
+
+
+Bardolph , get thee before to Coventry ; fill me a bottle of sack : our soldiers shall march through : we'll to Sutton-Co'fil' to-night .
+
+Will you give me money , captain ?
+
+Lay out , lay out .
+
+This bottle makes an angel .
+
+An if it do , take it for thy labour ; and if it make twenty , take them all , I'll answer the coinage . Bid my Lieutenant Peto meet me at the town's end .
+
+I will , captain : farewell .
+
+
+If I be not ashamed of my soldiers , I am a soused gurnet . I have misused the king's press damnably . I have got , in exchange of a hundred and fifty soldiers , three hundred and odd pounds . I press me none but good householders , yeomen's sons ; inquire me out contracted bachelors , such as had been asked twice on the banns ; such a commodity of warm slaves , as had as lief hear the devil as a drum ; such as fear the report of a caliver worse than a struck fowl or a hurt wild-duck . I pressed me none but such toasts-and-butter , with hearts in their bellies no bigger than pins' heads , and they have bought out their services ; and now my whole charge consists of ancients , corporals , lieutenants , gentlemen of companies , slaves as ragged as Lazarus in the painted cloth , where the glutton's dogs licked his sores ; and such as indeed were never soldiers , but discarded unjust serving-men , younger sons to younger brothers , revolted tapsters and ostlers trade-fallen , the cankers of a calm world and a long peace ; ten times more dishonourable ragged than an old faced ancient : and such have I , to fill up the rooms of them that have bought out their services , that you would think that I had a hundred and fifty tattered prodigals , lately come from swine-keeping , from eating draff and husks . A mad fellow met me on the way and told me I had unloaded all the gibbets and pressed the dead bodies . No eye hath seen such scarecrows . I'll not march through Coventry with them , that's flat : nay , and the villains march wide betwixt the legs , as if they had gyves on ; for , indeed I had the most of them out of prison . There's but a shirt and a half in all my company ; and the half shirt is two napkins tacked together and thrown over the shoulders like a herald's coat without sleeves ; and the shirt , to say the truth , stolen from my host at Saint Alban's , or the red-nose inn-keeper of Daventry . But that's all one ; they'll find linen enough on every hedge .
+
+
+How now , blown Jack ! how now , quilt !
+
+What , Hal ! How now , mad wag ! what a devil dost thou in Warwickshire ? My good Lord of Westmoreland , I cry you mercy : I thought your honour had already been at Shrewsbury .
+
+Faith , Sir John , 'tis more than time that I were there , and you too ; but my powers are there already . The king , I can tell you , looks for us all : we must away all night .
+
+Tut , never fear me : I am as vigilant as a cat to steal cream .
+
+I think to steal cream indeed , for thy theft hath already made thee butter . But tell me , Jack , whose fellows are these that come after ?
+
+Mine , Hal , mine .
+
+I did never see such pitiful rascals .
+
+Tut , tut ; good enough to toss ; food for powder , food for powder ; they'll fill a pit as well as better : tush , man , mortal men , mortal men .
+
+Ay , but , Sir John , methinks they are exceeding poor and bare ; too beggarly .
+
+Faith , for their poverty , I know not where they had that ; and for their bareness , I am sure they never learned that of me .
+
+No , I'll be sworn ; unless you call three fingers on the ribs bare . But sirrah , make haste : Percy is already in the field .
+
+What , is the king encamped ?
+
+He is , Sir John : I fear we shall stay too long .
+
+Well ,
+To the latter end of a fray and the beginning of a feast
+Fits a dull fighter and a keen guest .
+
+
+We'll fight with him to-night .
+
+It may not be .
+
+You give him then advantage .
+
+Not a whit .
+
+Why say you so ? looks he not for supply ?
+
+So do we .
+
+His is certain , ours is doubtful .
+
+Good cousin , be advis'd : stir not to-night .
+
+Do not , my lord .
+
+You do not counsel well :
+You speak it out of fear and cold heart .
+
+Do me no slander , Douglas : by my life ,
+And I dare well maintain it with my life ,
+If well-respected honour bid me on ,
+I hold as little counsel with weak fear
+As you , my lord , or any Scot that this day lives :
+Let it be seen to-morrow in the battle
+Which of us fears .
+
+Yea , or to-night .
+
+Content .
+
+To-night , say I .
+
+Come , come , it may not be . I wonder much ,
+Being men of such great leading as you are ,
+That you foresee not what impediments
+Drag back our expedition : certain horse
+Of my cousin Vernon's are not yet come up :
+Your uncle Worcester's horse came but to-day ;
+And now their pride and mettle is asleep ,
+Their courage with hard labour tame and dull ,
+That not a horse is half the half of himself .
+
+So are the horses of the enemy
+In general , journey-bated and brought low :
+The better part of ours are full of rest .
+
+The number of the king exceedeth ours :
+For God's sake , cousin , stay till all come in .
+
+I come with gracious offers from the king ,
+If you vouchsafe me hearing and respect .
+
+Welcome , Sir Walter Blunt ; and would to God
+You were of our determination !
+Some of us love you well ; and even those some
+Envy your great deservings and good name ,
+Because you are not of our quality ,
+But stand against us like an enemy .
+
+And God defend but still I should stand so ,
+So long as out of limit and true rule
+You stand against anointed majesty .
+But , to my charge . The king hath sent to know
+The nature of your griefs , and whereupon
+You conjure from the breast of civil peace
+Such bold hostility , teaching his duteous land
+Audacious cruelty . If that the king
+Have any way your good deserts forgot ,
+Which he confesseth to be manifold ,
+He bids you name your griefs ; and with all speed
+You shall have your desires with interest ,
+And pardon absolute for yourself and these
+Herein misled by your suggestion .
+
+The king is kind ; and well we know the king
+Knows at what time to promise , when to pay .
+My father and my uncle and myself
+Did give him that same royalty he wears ;
+And when he was not six-and-twenty strong ,
+Sick in the world's regard , wretched and low ,
+A poor unminded outlaw sneaking home ,
+My father gave him welcome to the shore ;
+And when he heard him swear and vow to God
+He came but to be Duke of Lancaster ,
+To sue his livery and beg his peace ,
+With tears of innocency and terms of zeal ,
+My father , in kind heart and pity mov'd ,
+Swore him assistance and perform'd it too .
+Now when the lords and barons of the realm
+Perceiv'd Northumberland did lean to him ,
+The more and less came in with cap and knee ;
+Met him in boroughs , cities , villages ,
+Attended him on bridges , stood in lanes ,
+Laid gifts before him , proffer'd him their oaths ,
+Gave him their heirs as pages , follow'd him
+Even at the heels in golden multitudes .
+He presently , as greatness knows itself ,
+Steps me a little higher than his vow
+Made to my father , while his blood was poor ,
+Upon the naked shore at Ravenspurgh ;
+And now , forsooth , takes on him to reform
+Some certain edicts and some strait decrees
+That lie too heavy on the commonwealth ,
+Cries out upon abuses , seems to weep
+Over his country's wrongs ; and by this face ,
+This seeming brow of justice , did he win
+The hearts of all that he did angle for ;
+Proceeded further ; cut me off the heads
+Of all the favourites that the absent king
+In deputation left behind him here ,
+When he was personal in the Irish war .
+
+Tut , I came not to hear this .
+
+Then to the point .
+In short time after , he depos'd the king ;
+Soon after that , depriv'd him of his life ;
+And , in the neck of that , task'd the whole state ;
+To make that worse , suffer'd his kinsman March
+Who is , if every owner were well plac'd ,
+Indeed his king to be engag'd in Wales ,
+There without ransom to lie forfeited ;
+Disgrac'd me in my happy victories ;
+Sought to entrap me by intelligence ;
+Rated my uncle from the council-board ;
+In rage dismiss'd my father from the court ;
+Broke oath on oath , committed wrong on wrong ;
+And in conclusion drove us to seek out
+This head of safety ; and withal to pry
+Into his title , the which we find
+Too indirect for long continuance .
+
+Shall I return this answer to the king ?
+
+Not so , Sir Walter : we'll withdraw awhile .
+Go to the king ; and let there be impawn'd
+Some surety for a safe return again ,
+And in the morning early shall my uncle
+Bring him our purposes ; and so farewell .
+
+I would you would accept of grace and love .
+
+And may be so we shall .
+
+Pray God , you do !
+
+
+Hie , good Sir Michael ; bear this sealed brief
+With winged haste to the lord marshal ;
+This to my cousin Scroop , and all the rest
+To whom they are directed . If you knew
+How much they do import , you would make haste .
+
+My good lord ,
+I guess their tenour .
+
+Like enough you do .
+To-morrow , good Sir Michael , is a day
+Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men
+Must bide the touch ; for , sir , at Shrewsbury ,
+As I am truly given to understand ,
+The king with mighty and quick-raised power
+Meets with Lord Harry : and , I fear , Sir Michael ,
+What with the sickness of Northumberland ,
+Whose power was in the first proportion ,
+And what with Owen Glendower's absence thence ,
+Who with them was a rated sinew too ,
+And comes not in , o'er-rul'd by prophecies ,
+I fear the power of Percy is too weak
+To wage an instant trial with the king .
+
+Why , my good lord , you need not fear :
+There is the Douglas and Lord Mortimer .
+
+No , Mortimer is not there .
+
+But there is Mordake , Vernon , Lord Harry Percy ,
+And there's my Lord of Worcester , and a head
+Of gallant warriors , noble gentlemen .
+
+And so there is ; but yet the king hath drawn
+The special head of all the land together :
+The Prince of Wales , Lord John of Lancaster ,
+The noble Westmoreland , and war-like Blunt ;
+And many moe corrivals and dear men
+Of estimation and command in arms .
+
+Doubt not , my lord , they shall be well oppos'd .
+
+I hope no less , yet needful 'tis to fear ;
+And , to prevent the worse , Sir Michael , speed :
+For if Lord Percy thrive not , ere the king
+Dismiss his power , he means to visit us ,
+For he hath heard of our confederacy ,
+And 'tis but wisdom to make strong against him :
+Therefore make haste . I must go write again
+To other friends ; and so farewell , Sir Michael .
+
+How bloodily the sun begins to peer
+Above yon busky hill ! the day looks pale
+At his distemperature .
+
+The southern wind
+Doth play the trumpet to his purposes ,
+And by his hollow whistling in the leaves
+Foretells a tempest and a blustering day .
+
+Then with the losers let it sympathize ,
+For nothing can seem foul to those that win .
+
+How now , my Lord of Worcester ! 'tis not well
+That you and I should meet upon such terms
+As now we meet . You have deceiv'd our trust ,
+And made us doff our easy robes of peace ,
+To crush our old limbs in ungentle steel :
+This is not well , my lord ; this is not well .
+What say you to it ? will you again unknit
+This churlish knot of all-abhorred war ,
+And move in that obedient orb again
+Where you did give a fair and natural light ,
+And be no more an exhal'd meteor ,
+A prodigy of fear and a portent
+
+Of broached mischief to the unborn times ?
+
+Hear me , my liege .
+For mine own part , I could be well content
+To entertain the lag-end of my life
+With quiet hours ; for I do protest
+I have not sought the day of this dislike .
+
+You have not sought it ! how comes it then ?
+
+Rebellion lay in his way , and he found it .
+
+Peace , chewet , peace !
+
+It pleas'd your majesty to turn your looks
+Of favour from myself and all our house ;
+And yet I must remember you , my lord ,
+We were the first and dearest of your friends .
+For you my staff of office did I break
+In Richard's time ; and posted day and night
+To meet you on the way , and kiss your hand ,
+When yet you were in place and in account
+Nothing so strong and fortunate as I .
+It was myself , my brother , and his son ,
+That brought you home and boldly did outdare
+The dangers of the time . You swore to us ,
+And you did swear that oath at Doncaster ,
+That you did nothing purpose 'gainst the state ,
+Nor claim no further than your new-fall'n right ,
+The seat of Gaunt , dukedom of Lancaster .
+To this we swore our aid : but , in short space
+It rain'd down fortune showering on your head ,
+And such a flood of greatness fell on you ,
+What with our help , what with the absent king ,
+What with the injuries of a wanton time ,
+The seeming sufferances that you had borne ,
+And the contrarious winds that held the king
+So long in his unlucky Irish wars ,
+That all in England did repute him dead :
+And from this swarm of fair advantages
+You took occasion to be quickly woo'd
+To gripe the general sway into your hand ;
+Forgot your oath to us at Doncaster ;
+And being fed by us you us'd us so
+As that ungentle gull , the cuckoo's bird ,
+Useth the sparrow : did oppress our nest ,
+Grew by our feeding to so great a bulk
+That even our love durst not come near your sight
+For fear of swallowing ; but with nimble wing
+We were enforc'd , for safety's sake , to fly
+Out of your sight and raise this present head ;
+Whereby we stand opposed by such means
+As you yourself have forg'd against yourself
+By unkind usage , dangerous countenance ,
+And violation of all faith and troth
+Sworn to us in your younger enterprise .
+
+These things indeed , you have articulate ,
+Proclaim'd at market-crosses , read in churches ,
+To face the garment of rebellion
+With some fine colour that may please the eye
+Of fickle changelings and poor discontents ,
+Which gape and rub the elbow at the news
+Of hurlyburly innovation :
+And never yet did insurrection want
+Such water-colours to impaint his cause ;
+Nor moody beggars , starving for a time
+Of pell-mell havoc and confusion .
+
+In both our armies there is many a soul
+Shall pay full dearly for this encounter ,
+If once they join in trial . Tell your nephew ,
+The Prince of Wales doth join with all the world
+In praise of Henry Percy : by my hopes ,
+This present enterprise set off his head ,
+I do not think a braver gentleman ,
+More active-valiant or more valiant-young ,
+More daring or more bold , is now alive
+To grace this latter age with noble deeds .
+For my part , I may speak it to my shame ,
+I have a truant been to chivalry ;
+And so I hear he doth account me too ;
+Yet this before my father's majesty
+I am content that he shall take the odds
+Of his great name and estimation ,
+And will , to save the blood on either side ,
+Try fortune with him in a single fight .
+
+And , Prince of Wales , so dare we venture thee ,
+Albeit considerations infinite
+Do make against it . No , good Worcester , no ,
+We love our people well ; even those we love
+That are misled upon your cousin's part ;
+And , will they take the offer of our grace ,
+Both he and they and you , yea , every man
+Shall be my friend again , and I'll be his .
+So tell your cousin , and bring me word
+What he will do ; but if he will not yield ,
+Rebuke and dread correction wait on us ,
+And they shall do their office . So , be gone :
+We will not now be troubled with reply ;
+We offer fair , take it advisedly .
+
+
+It will not be accepted , on my life .
+The Douglas and the Hotspur both together
+Are confident against the world in arms .
+
+Hence , therefore , every leader to his charge ;
+For , on their answer , will we set on them ;
+And God befriend us , as our cause is just !
+
+
+Hal , if thou see me down in the battle , and bestride me , so ; 'tis a point of friendship .
+
+Nothing but a colossus can do thee that friendship . Say thy prayers , and farewell .
+
+I would it were bed-time , Hal , and all well .
+
+Why , thou owest God a death .
+
+
+'Tis not due yet : I would be loath to pay him before his day . What need I be so forward with him that calls not on me ? Well , 'tis no matter ; honour pricks me on . Yea , but how if honour prick me off when I come on ? how then ? Can honour set to a leg ? No . Or an arm ? No . Or take away the grief of a wound ? No . Honour hath no skill in surgery then ? No . What is honour ? a word . What is that word , honour ? Air . A trim reckoning ! Who hath it ? he that died o' Wednesday . Doth he feel it ? No . Doth he hear it ? No . It is insensible then ? Yea , to the dead . But will it not live with the living ? No . Why ? Detraction will not suffer it . Therefore I'll none of it : honour is a mere scutcheon ; and so ends my catechism .
+
+
+O , no ! my nephew must not know , Sir Richard ,
+The liberal kind offer of the king .
+
+'Twere best he did .
+
+Then are we all undone .
+It is not possible , it cannot be ,
+The king should keep his word in loving us ;
+He will suspect us still , and find a time
+To punish this offence in other faults :
+Suspicion all our lives shall be stuck full of eyes ;
+For treason is but trusted like the fox ,
+Who , ne'er so tame , so cherish'd , and lock'd up ,
+Will have a wild trick of his ancestors .
+Look how we can , or sad or merrily ,
+Interpretation will misquote our looks ,
+And we shall feed like oxen at a stall ,
+The better cherish'd , still the nearer death .
+My nephew's trespass may be well forgot ,
+It hath the excuse of youth and heat of blood ;
+And an adopted name of privilege ,
+A hare-brain'd Hotspur , govern'd by a spleen .
+All his offences live upon my head
+And on his father's : we did train him on ;
+And , his corruption being ta'en from us ,
+We , as the spring of all , shall pay for all .
+Therefore , good cousin , let not Harry know
+In any case the offer of the king .
+
+Deliver what you will , I'll say 'tis so .
+Here comes your cousin .
+
+
+My uncle is return'd : deliver up
+My Lord of Westmoreland . Uncle , what news ?
+
+The king will bid you battle presently .
+
+Defy him by the Lord of Westmoreland .
+
+Lord Douglas , go you and tell him so .
+
+Marry , and shall , and very willingly .
+
+
+There is no seeming mercy in the king .
+
+Did you beg any ? God forbid !
+
+I told him gently of our grievances ,
+Of his oath-breaking ; which he mended thus ,
+By now forswearing that he is forsworn :
+He calls us rebels , traitors ; and will scourge
+With haughty arms this hateful name in us .
+
+
+Arm , gentlemen ! to arms ! for I have thrown
+A brave defiance in King Henry's teeth ,
+And Westmoreland , that was engag'd , did bear it ;
+Which cannot choose but bring him quickly on .
+
+The Prince of Wales stepp'd forth before the king ,
+And , nephew , challeng'd you to single fight .
+
+O ! would the quarrel lay upon our heads ,
+And that no man might draw short breath to-day
+But I and Harry Monmouth . Tell me , tell me ,
+How show'd his tasking ? seem'd it in contempt ?
+
+No , by my soul ; I never in my life
+Did hear a challenge urg'd more modestly ,
+Unless a brother should a brother dare
+To gentle exercise and proof of arms .
+He gave you all the duties of a man ,
+Trimm'd up your praises with a princely tongue ,
+Spoke your deservings like a chronicle ,
+Making you ever better than his praise ,
+By still dispraising praise valu'd with you ;
+And , which became him like a prince indeed ,
+He made a blushing cital of himself ,
+And chid his truant youth with such a grace
+As if he master'd there a double spirit
+Of teaching and of learning instantly .
+There did he pause . But let me tell the world ,
+If he outlive the envy of this day ,
+England did never owe so sweet a hope ,
+So much misconstru'd in his wantonness .
+
+Cousin , I think thou art enamoured
+On his follies : never did I hear
+Of any prince so wild a libertine .
+But be he as he will , yet once ere night
+I will embrace him with a soldier's arm ,
+That he shall shrink under my courtesy .
+Arm , arm , with speed ! And , fellows , soldiers , friends ,
+Better consider what you have to do ,
+Than I , that have not well the gift of tongue ,
+Can lift your blood up with persuasion .
+
+
+My lord , here are letters for you .
+
+I cannot read them now .
+O gentlemen ! the time of life is short ;
+To spend that shortness basely were too long ,
+If life did ride upon a dial's point ,
+Still ending at the arrival of an hour .
+An if we live , we live to tread on kings ;
+If die , brave death , when princes die with us !
+Now , for our consciences , the arms are fair ,
+When the intent of bearing them is just .
+
+
+My lord , prepare ; the king comes on apace .
+
+I thank him that he cuts me from my tale ,
+For I profess not talking . Only this ,
+Let each man do his best : and here draw I
+A sword , whose temper I intend to stain
+With the best blood that I can meet withal
+In the adventure of this perilous day .
+Now , Esperance ! Percy ! and set on .
+Sound all the lofty instruments of war ,
+And by that music let us all embrace ;
+For , heaven to earth , some of us never shall
+A second time do such a courtesy .
+
+What is thy name , that in the battle thus
+Thou crossest me ? what honour dost thou seek
+Upon my head ?
+
+Know then , my name is Douglas ;
+And I do haunt thee in the battle thus
+Because some tell me that thou art a king .
+
+They tell thee true .
+
+The Lord of Stafford dear to-day hath bought
+Thy likeness ; for , instead of thee , King Harry ,
+This sword hath ended him : so shall it thee ,
+Unless thou yield thee as my prisoner .
+
+I was not born a yielder , thou proud Scot ;
+And thou shalt find a king that will revenge
+Lord Stafford's death .
+
+O , Douglas ! hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus ,
+I never had triumph'd upon a Scot .
+
+All's done , all's won : here breathless lies the king .
+
+Where ?
+
+Here .
+
+This , Douglas ! no ; I know this face full well ;
+A gallant knight he was , his name was Blunt ;
+Semblably furnish'd like the king himself .
+
+A fool go with thy soul , whither it goes !
+A borrow'd title hast thou bought too dear :
+Why didst thou tell me that thou wert a king ?
+
+The king hath many marching in his coats .
+
+Now , by my sword , I will kill all his coats ;
+I'll murder all his wardrobe , piece by piece ,
+Until I meet the king .
+
+Up , and away !
+Our soldiers stand full fairly for the day .
+
+Though I could 'scape shot-free at London , I fear the shot here ; here's no scoring but upon the pate . Soft ! who art thou ? Sir Walter Blunt : there's honour for you ! here's no vanity ! I am as hot as molten lead , and as heavy too : God keep lead out of me ! I need no more weight than mine own bowels . I have led my ragamuffins where they are peppered : there's not three of my hundred and fifty left alive , and they are for the town's end , to beg during life . But who comes here ?
+
+
+What ! stand'st thou idle here ? lend me thy sword :
+Many a nobleman lies stark and stiff
+Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies ,
+Whose deaths are unreveng'd : prithee , lend me thy sword .
+
+O Hal ! I prithee , give me leave to breathe awhile . Turk Gregory never did such deeds in arms as I have done this day . I have paid Percy , I have made him sure .
+
+He is , indeed ; and living to kill thee .
+I prithee , lend me thy sword .
+
+Nay , before God , Hal , if Percy be alive , thou gett'st not my sword ; but take my pistol , if thou wilt .
+
+Give it me . What ! is it in the case ?
+
+Ay , Hal ; 'tis hot , 'tis hot : there's that will sack a city .
+
+
+What ! is't a time to jest and dally now ?
+
+
+Well , if Percy be alive , I'll pierce him . If he do come in my way , so : if he do not , if I come in his , willingly , let him make a carbonado of me . I like not such grinning honour as Sir Walter hath : give me life ; which if I can save , so ; if not , honour comes unlooked for , and there's an end .
+
+
+I prithee ,
+Harry , withdraw thyself ; thou bleed'st too much .
+Lord John of Lancaster , go you with him .
+
+Not I , my lord , unless I did bleed too .
+
+I beseech your majesty , make up ,
+Lest your retirement do amaze your friends .
+
+I will do so .
+My Lord of Westmoreland , lead him to his tent .
+
+Come , my lord , I'll lead you to your tent .
+
+Lead me , my lord ? I do not need your help :
+And God forbid a shallow scratch should drive
+The Prince of Wales from such a field as this ,
+Where stain'd nobility lies trodden on ,
+And rebels' arms triumph in massacres !
+
+We breathe too long : come , cousin Westmoreland ,
+Our duty this way lies : for God's sake , come .
+
+
+By God , thou hast deceiv'd me , Lancaster ;
+I did not think thee lord of such a spirit :
+Before , I lov'd thee as a brother , John ;
+But now , I do respect thee as my soul .
+
+I saw him hold Lord Percy at the point
+With lustier maintenance than I did look for
+Of such an ungrown warrior .
+
+O ! this boy
+Lends mettle to us all .
+
+Another king ! they grow like Hydra's heads :
+I am the Douglas , fatal to all those
+That wear those colours on them : what art thou ,
+That counterfeit'st the person of a king ?
+
+The king himself ; who , Douglas , grieves at heart
+So many of his shadows thou hast met
+And not the very king . I have two boys
+Seek Percy and thyself about the field :
+But , seeing thou fall'st on me so luckily ,
+I will assay thee ; so defend thyself .
+
+I fear thou art another counterfeit ;
+And yet , in faith , thou bear'st thee like a king :
+But mine I am sure thou art , whoe'er thou be ,
+And thus I win thee .
+
+
+Hold up thy head , vile Scot , or thou art like
+Never to hold it up again ! the spirits
+Of valiant Shirley , Stafford , Blunt , are in my arms :
+It is the Prince of Wales that threatens thee ,
+Who never promiseth but he means to pay .
+
+Cheerly , my lord : how fares your Grace ?
+Sir Nicholas Gawsey hath for succour sent ,
+And so hath Clifton : I'll to Clifton straight .
+
+Stay , and breathe awhile .
+Thou hast redeem'd thy lost opinion ,
+And show'd thou mak'st some tender of my life ,
+In this fair rescue thou hast brought to me .
+
+O God ! they did me too much injury
+That ever said I hearken'd for your death .
+If it were so , I might have let alone
+The insulting hand of Douglas over you ;
+Which would have been as speedy in your end
+As all the poisonous potions in the world ,
+And sav'd the treacherous labour of your son .
+
+Make up to Clifton : I'll to Sir Nicholas Gawsey .
+
+If I mistake not , thou art Harry Monmouth .
+
+Thou speak'st as if I would deny my name .
+
+My name is Harry Percy .
+
+Why , then , I see
+A very valiant rebel of that name .
+I am the Prince of Wales ; and think not , Percy ,
+To share with me in glory any more :
+Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere ;
+Nor can one England brook a double reign ,
+Of Harry Percy and the Prince of Wales .
+
+Nor shall it , Harry ; for the hour is come
+To end the one of us ; and would to God
+Thy name in arms were now as great as mine !
+
+I'll make it greater ere I part from thee ;
+And all the budding honours on thy crest
+I'll crop , to make a garland for my head .
+
+I can no longer brook thy vanities .
+
+Well said , Hal ! to it , Hal ! Nay , you shall find no boy's play here , I can tell you .
+
+O , Harry ! thou hast robb'd me of my youth .
+I better brook the loss of brittle life
+Than those proud titles thou hast won of me ;
+They wound my thoughts worse than thy sword my flesh :
+But thought's the slave of life , and life time's fool ;
+And time , that takes survey of all the world ,
+Must have a stop . O ! I could prophesy ,
+But that the earthy and cold hand of death
+Lies on my tongue . No , Percy , thou art dust ,
+And food for
+
+
+For worms , brave Percy . Fare thee well , great heart !
+Ill-weav'd ambition , how much art thou shrunk !
+When that this body did contain a spirit ,
+A kingdom for it was too small a bound ;
+But now , two paces of the vilest earth
+Is room enough : this earth , that bears thee dead ,
+Bears not alive so stout a gentleman .
+If thou wert sensible of courtesy ,
+I should not make so dear a show of zeal :
+But let my favours hide thy mangled face ,
+And , even in thy behalf , I'll thank myself
+For doing these fair rites of tenderness .
+Adieu , and take thy praise with thee to heaven !
+Thy ignomy sleep with thee in the grave ,
+But not remember'd in thy epitaph !
+
+What ! old acquaintance ! could not all this flesh
+Keep in a little life ? Poor Jack , farewell !
+I could have better spar'd a better man .
+O ! I should have a heavy miss of thee
+If I were much in love with vanity .
+Death hath not struck so fat a deer to-day ,
+Though many dearer , in this bloody fray .
+Embowell'd will I see thee by and by :
+Till then in blood by noble Percy lie .
+
+
+Embowelled ! if thou embowel me to-day , I'll give you leave to powder me and eat me too , to-morrow . 'Sblood ! 'twas time to counterfeit , or that hot termagant Scot had paid me scot and lot too . Counterfeit ? I lie , I am no counterfeit : to die , is to be a counterfeit ; for he is but the counterfeit of a man , who hath not the life of a man ; but to counterfeit dying , when a man thereby liveth , is to be no counterfeit , but the true and perfect image of life indeed . The better part of valour is discretion ; in the which better part , I have saved my life . 'Zounds ! I am afraid of this gunpowder Percy though he be dead : how , if he should counterfeit too and rise ? By my faith I am afraid he would prove the better counterfeit . Therefore I'll make him sure ; yea , and I'll swear I killed him . Why may not he rise as well as I ? Nothing confutes me but eyes , and nobody sees me : therefore , sirrah [stabbing him] , with a new wound in your thigh come you along with me .
+
+Come , brother John ; full bravely hast thou flesh'd
+Thy maiden sword .
+
+But , soft ! whom have we here ?
+Did you not tell me this fat man was dead ?
+
+I did ; I saw him dead ,
+Breathless and bleeding on the ground .
+Art thou alive ? or is it fantasy
+That plays upon our eyesight ? I prithee , speak ;
+We will not trust our eyes without our ears :
+Thou art not what thou seem'st .
+
+No , that's certain ; I am not a double man : but if I be not Jack Falstaff , then am I a Jack . There is Percy
+
+: if your father will do me any honour , so ; if not , let him kill the next Percy himself . I look to be either earl or duke , I can assure you .
+
+Why , Percy I killed myself , and saw thee dead .
+
+Didst thou ? Lord , Lord ! how this world is given to lying . I grant you I was down and out of breath , and so was he ; but we rose both at an instant , and fought a long hour by Shrewsbury clock . If I may be believed , so ; if not , let them that should reward valour bear the sin upon their own heads . I'll take it upon my death , I gave him this wound in the thigh : if the man were alive and would deny it , 'zounds , I would make him eat a piece of my sword .
+
+This is the strangest tale that e'er I heard .
+
+This is the strangest fellow , brother John .
+Come , bring your luggage nobly on your back :
+For my part , if a lie may do thee grace ,
+I'll gild it with the happiest terms I have .
+
+The trumpet sounds retreat ; the day is ours .
+Come , brother , let us to the highest of the field ,
+To see what friends are living , who are dead .
+
+
+I'll follow , as they say , for reward . He that rewards me , God reward him ! If I do grow great , I'll grow less ; for I'll purge , and leave sack , and live cleanly , as a nobleman should do .
+
+Thus ever did rebellion find rebuke .
+Ill-spirited Worcester ! did we not send grace ,
+Pardon , and terms of love to all of you ?
+And wouldst thou turn our offers contrary ?
+Misuse the tenour of thy kinsman's trust ?
+Three knights upon our party slain to-day ,
+A noble earl and many a creature else
+Had been alive this hour ,
+If like a Christian , thou hadst truly borne
+Betwixt our armies true intelligence .
+
+What I have done my safety urg'd me to ;
+And I embrace this fortune patiently ,
+Since not to be avoided it falls on me .
+
+Bear Worcester to the death and Vernon too :
+Other offenders we will pause upon .
+
+How goes the field ?
+
+The noble Scot , Lord Douglas , when he saw
+The fortune of the day quite turn'd from him ,
+The noble Percy slain , and all his men
+Upon the foot of fear , fled with the rest ;
+And falling from a hill he was so bruis'd
+That the pursuers took him . At my tent
+The Douglas is , and I beseech your Grace
+I may dispose of him .
+
+With all my heart .
+
+Then , brother John of Lancaster , to you
+This honourable bounty shall belong .
+Go to the Douglas , and deliver him
+Up to his pleasure , ransomless , and free :
+His valour shown upon our crests to-day
+Hath taught us how to cherish such high deeds ,
+Even in the bosom of our adversaries .
+
+I thank your Grace for this high courtesy ,
+Which I shall give away immediately .
+
+Then this remains , that we divide our power .
+You , son John , and my cousin Westmoreland
+Towards York shall bend you , with your dearest speed ,
+To meet Northumberland and the prelate Scroop ,
+Who , as we hear , are busily in arms :
+Myself and you , son Harry , will towards Wales ,
+To fight with Glendower and the Earl of March .
+Rebellion in this land shall lose his sway ,
+Meeting the check of such another day :
+And since this business so fair is done ,
+Let us not leave till all our own be won .
+
+THE FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI
+
+Fiends appearing to La Pucelle .
+
+
+Hung be the heavens with black , yield day to night !
+Comets , importing change of times and states ,
+Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky ,
+And with them scourge the bad revolting stars ,
+That have consented unto Henry's death !
+King Henry the Fifth , too famous to live long !
+England ne'er lost a king of so much worth .
+
+England ne'er had a king until his time .
+Virtue he had , deserving to command :
+His brandish'd sword did blind men with his beams ;
+His arms spread wider than a dragon's wings ;
+His sparkling eyes , replete with wrathful fire ,
+More dazzled and drove back his enemies
+Than mid-day sun fierce bent against their faces .
+What should I say ? his deeds exceed all speech :
+He ne'er lift up his hand but conquered .
+
+We mourn in black : why mourn we not in blood ?
+Henry is dead and never shall revive .
+Upon a wooden coffin we attend ,
+And death's dishonourable victory
+We with our stately presence glorify ,
+Like captives bound to a triumphant car .
+What ! shall we curse the planets of mishap
+That plotted thus our glory's overthrow ?
+Or shall we think the subtle-witted French
+Conjurers and sorcerers , that , afraid of him ,
+By magic verses have contriv'd his end ?
+
+He was a king bless'd of the King of kings .
+Unto the French the dreadful judgment-day
+So dreadful will not be as was his sight .
+The battles of the Lord of hosts he fought :
+The church's prayers made him so prosperous .
+
+The church ! where is it ? Had not churchmen pray'd
+His thread of life had not so soon decay'd :
+None do you like but an effeminate prince ,
+Whom like a school-boy you may over-awe .
+
+Gloucester , whate'er we like thou art protector ,
+And lookest to command the prince and realm .
+Thy wife is proud ; she holdeth thee in awe ,
+More than God or religious churchmen may .
+
+Name not religion , for thou lov'st the flesh ,
+And ne'er throughout the year to church thou go'st ,
+Except it be to pray against thy foes .
+
+Cease , cease these jars and rest your minds in peace !
+Let's to the altar : heralds , wait on us :
+Instead of gold we'll offer up our arms ,
+Since arms avail not , now that Henry's dead .
+Posterity , await for wretched years ,
+When at their mothers' moist eyes babes shall suck ,
+Our isle be made a marish of salt tears ,
+And none but women left to wail the dead .
+Henry the Fifth ! thy ghost I invocate :
+Prosper this realm , keep it from civil broils !
+Combat with adverse planets in the heavens !
+A far more glorious star thy soul will make ,
+Than Julius C sar , or bright
+
+
+My honourable lords , health to you all !
+Sad tidings bring I to you out of France ,
+Of loss , of slaughter , and discomfiture :
+Guienne , Champaigne , Rheims , Orleans ,
+Paris , Guysors , Poictiers , are all quite lost .
+
+What sayst thou , man , before dead Henry's corse ?
+Speak softly ; or the loss of those great towns
+Will make him burst his lead and rise from death .
+
+Is Paris lost ? is Roan yielded up ?
+If Henry were recall'd to life again
+These news would cause him once more yield the ghost .
+
+How were they lost ? what treachery was us'd ?
+
+No treachery ; but want of men and money .
+Among the soldiers this is muttered ,
+That here you maintain several factions ;
+And , whilst a field should be dispatch'd and fought ,
+You are disputing of your generals .
+One would have lingering wars with little cost ;
+Another would fly swift , but wanteth wings ;
+A third thinks , without expense at all ,
+By guileful fair words peace may be obtain'd .
+Awake , awake , English nobility !
+Let not sloth dim your honours new-begot :
+Cropp'd are the flower-de-luces in your arms ;
+Of England's coat one half is cut away .
+
+Were our tears wanting to this funeral
+These tidings would call forth their flowing tides .
+
+Me they concern ; Regent I am of France .
+Give me my steeled coat : I'll fight for France .
+Away with these disgraceful wailing robes !
+Wounds will I lend the French instead of eyes ,
+To weep their intermissive miseries .
+
+
+Lords , view these letters , full of bad mischance .
+France is revolted from the English quite ,
+Except some petty towns of no import :
+The Dauphin Charles is crowned king in Rheims ;
+The Bastard of Orleans with him is join'd ;
+Reignier , Duke of Anjou , doth take his part ;
+The Duke of Alen on flieth to his side .
+
+The Dauphin crowned king ! all fly to him !
+O ! whither shall we fly from this reproach ?
+
+We will not fly , but to our enemies' throats .
+Bedford , if thou be slack , I'll fight it out .
+
+Gloucester , why doubt'st thou of my forwardness ?
+An army have I muster'd in my thoughts ,
+Wherewith already France is overrun .
+
+
+My gracious lords , to add to your laments ,
+Wherewith you now bedew King Henry's hearse ,
+I must inform you of a dismal fight
+Betwixt the stout Lord Talbot and the French .
+
+What ! wherein Talbot overcame ? is't so ?
+
+O , no ! wherein Lord Talbot was o'erthrown :
+The circumstance I'll tell you more at large .
+The tenth of August last this dreadful lord ,
+Retiring from the siege of Orleans ,
+Having full scarce six thousand in his troop ,
+By three-and-twenty thousand of the French
+Was round encompassed and set upon .
+No leisure had he to enrank his men ;
+He wanted pikes to set before his archers ;
+Instead whereof sharp stakes pluck'd out of hedges
+They pitched in the ground confusedly ,
+To keep the horsemen off from breaking in .
+More than three hours the fight continued ;
+Where valiant Talbot above human thought
+Enacted wonders with his sword and lance .
+Hundreds he sent to hell , and none durst stand him ;
+Here , there , and every where , enrag'd he flew :
+The French exclaim'd the devil was in arms ;
+All the whole army stood agaz'd on him .
+His soldiers , spying his undaunted spirit ,
+A Talbot ! A Talbot ! cried out amain ,
+And rush'd into the bowels of the battle .
+Here had the conquest fully been seal'd up ,
+If Sir John Fastolfe had not play'd the coward .
+He , being in the vaward ,plac'd behind ,
+With purpose to relieve and follow them ,
+Cowardly fled , not having struck one stroke .
+Hence grew the general wrack and massacre ;
+Enclosed were they with their enemies .
+A base Walloon , to win the Dauphin's grace ,
+Thrust Talbot with a spear into the back ;
+Whom all France , with their chief assembled strength ,
+Durst not presume to look once in the face .
+
+Is Talbot slain ? then I will slay myself ,
+For living idly here in pomp and ease
+Whilst such a worthy leader , wanting aid ,
+Unto his dastard foemen is betray'd .
+
+O no ! he lives ; but is took prisoner ,
+And Lord Scales with him , and Lord Hungerford :
+Most of the rest slaughter'd or took likewise .
+
+His ransom there is none but I shall pay :
+I'll hale the Dauphin headlong from his throne ;
+His crown shall be the ransom of my friend ;
+Four of their lords I'll change for one of ours .
+Farewell , my masters ; to my task will I ;
+Bonfires in France forthwith I am to make ,
+To keep our great Saint George's feast withal :
+Ten thousand soldiers with me I will take ,
+Whose bloody deeds shall make all Europe quake .
+
+So you had need ; for Orleans is besieg'd ;
+The English army is grown weak and faint ;
+The Earl of Salisbury craveth supply ,
+And hardly keeps his men from mutiny ,
+Since they , so few , watch such a multitude .
+
+Remember , lords , your oaths to Henry sworn ,
+Either to quell the Dauphin utterly ,
+Or bring him in obedience to your yoke .
+
+I do remember it ; and here take my leave ,
+To go about my preparation .
+
+
+I'll to the Tower with all the haste I can ,
+To view the artillery and munition ;
+And then I will proclaim young Henry king .
+
+
+To Eltham will I , where the young king is ,
+Being ordain'd his special governor ;
+And for his safety there I'll best devise .
+
+
+Each hath his place and function to attend :
+I am left out ; for me nothing remains .
+But long I will not be Jack-out-of-office .
+The king from Eltham I intend to steal ,
+And sit at chiefest stern of public weal .
+
+
+Mars his true moving , even as in the heavens
+So in the earth , to this day is not known .
+Late did he shine upon the English side ;
+Now we are victors ; upon us he smiles .
+What towns of any moment but we have ?
+At pleasure here we lie near Orleans ;
+Otherwhiles the famish'd English , like pale ghosts ,
+Faintly besiege us one hour in a month .
+
+They want their porridge and their fat bull-beeves :
+Either they must be dieted like mules
+And have their provender tied to their mouths ,
+Or piteous they will look , like drowned mice .
+
+Let's raise the siege : why live we idly here ?
+Talbot is taken , whom we wont to fear :
+Remaineth none but mad-brain'd Salisbury ,
+And he may well in fretting spend his gall ;
+Nor men nor money hath he to make war .
+
+Sound , sound alarum ! we will rush on them .
+Now for the honour of the forlorn French !
+Him I forgive my death that killeth me
+When he sees me go back one foot or fly .
+
+Who ever saw the like ? what men have I !
+Dogs ! cowards ! dastards ! I would ne'er have fled
+But that they left me 'midst my enemies .
+
+Salisbury is a desperate homicide ;
+He fighteth as one weary of his life :
+The other lords , like lions wanting food ,
+Do rush upon us as their hungry prey .
+
+Froissart , a countryman of ours , records ,
+England all Olivers and Rowlands bred
+During the time Edward the Third did reign .
+More truly now may this be verified ;
+For none but Samsons and Goliases ,
+It sendeth forth to skirmish . One to ten !
+Lean raw-bon'd rascals ! who would e'er suppose
+They had such courage and audacity ?
+
+Let's leave this town ; for they are hare-brain'd slaves ,
+And hunger will enforce them to be more eager :
+Of old I know them ; rather with their teeth
+The walls they'll tear down than forsake the siege .
+
+I think , by some odd gimmals or device ,
+Their arms are set like clocks , still to strike on ;
+Else ne'er could they hold out so as they do .
+By my consent , we'll e'en let them alone .
+
+Be it so .
+
+
+Where's the prince Dauphin ? I have news for him .
+
+Bastard of Orleans , thrice welcome to us .
+
+Methinks your looks are sad , your cheer appall'd :
+Hath the late overthrow wrought this offence ?
+Be not dismay'd , for succour is at hand :
+A holy maid hither with me I bring ,
+Which by a vision sent to her from heaven
+Ordained is to raise this tedious siege ,
+And drive the English forth the bounds of France .
+The spirit of deep prophecy she hath ,
+Exceeding the nine sibyls of old Rome ;
+What's past and what's to come she can descry .
+Speak , shall I call her in ? Believe my words ,
+For they are certain and unfallible .
+
+Go , call her in .
+
+But first , to try her skill ,
+Reignier , stand thou as Dauphin in my place :
+Question her proudly ; let thy looks be stern :
+By this means shall we sound what skill she hath .
+
+Fair maid , is't thou wilt do these wondrous feats ?
+
+Reignier , is't thou that thinkest to beguile me ?
+Where is the Dauphin ? Come , come from behind ;
+I know thee well , though never seen before .
+Be not amaz'd , there's nothing hid from me :
+In private will I talk with thee apart .
+Stand back , you lords , and give us leave a while .
+
+She takes upon her bravely at first dash .
+
+Dauphin , I am by birth a shepherd's daughter ,
+My wit untrain'd in any kind of art .
+Heaven and our Lady gracious hath it pleas'd
+To shine on my contemptible estate :
+Lo ! whilst I waited on my tender lambs ,
+And to sun's parching heat display'd my cheeks ,
+God's mother deigned to appear to me ,
+And in a vision full of majesty
+Will'd me to leave my base vocation
+And free my country from calamity :
+Her aid she promis'd and assur'd success ;
+In complete glory she reveal'd herself ;
+And , whereas I was black and swart before ,
+With those clear rays which she infus'd on me ,
+That beauty am I bless'd with which you see .
+Ask me what question thou canst possible
+And I will answer unpremeditated :
+My courage try by combat , if thou dar'st ,
+And thou shalt find that I exceed my sex .
+Resolve on this , thou shalt be fortunate
+If thou receive me for thy war-like mate .
+
+Thou hast astonish'd me with thy high terms .
+Only this proof I'll of thy valour make ,
+In single combat thou shalt buckle with me ,
+And if thou vanquishest , thy words are true ;
+Otherwise I renounce all confidence .
+
+I am prepar'd : here is my keen-edg'd sword ,
+Deck'd with five flower-de-luces on each side ;
+The which at Touraine , in Saint Katharine's churchyard ,
+Out of a great deal of old iron I chose forth .
+
+Then come , o' God's name ; I fear no woman .
+
+And , while I live , I'll ne'er fly from a man .
+
+
+Stay , stay thy hands ! thou art an Amazon ,
+And fightest with the sword of Deborah .
+
+Christ's mother helps me , else I were too weak .
+
+Whoe'er helps thee , 'tis thou that must help me :
+Impatiently I burn with thy desire ;
+My heart and hands thou hast at once subdu'd .
+Excellent Pucelle , if thy name be so ,
+Let me thy servant and not sovereign be ;
+'Tis the French Dauphin sueth to thee thus .
+
+I must not yield to any rites of love ,
+For my profession's sacred from above :
+When I have chased all thy foes from hence ,
+Then will I think upon a recompense .
+
+Meantime look gracious on thy prostrate thrall .
+
+My lord , methinks , is very long in talk .
+
+Doubtless he shrives this woman to her smock ;
+Else ne'er could he so long protract his speech .
+
+Shall we disturb him , since he keeps no mean ?
+
+He may mean more than we poor men do know :
+These women are shrewd tempters with their tongues .
+
+My lord , where are you ? what devise you on ?
+Shall we give over Orleans , or no ?
+
+Why , no , I say , distrustful recreants !
+Fight till the last gasp ; I will be your guard .
+
+What she says , I'll confirm : we'll fight it out .
+
+Assign'd am I to be the English scourge .
+This night the siege assuredly I'll raise :
+Expect Saint Martin's summer , halcyon days ,
+Since I have entered into these wars .
+Glory is like a circle in the water ,
+Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself ,
+Till by broad spreading it disperse to nought .
+With Henry's death the English circle ends ;
+Dispersed are the glories it included .
+Now am I like that proud insulting ship
+Which C sar and his fortune bare at once .
+
+Was Mahomet inspired with a dove ?
+Thou with an eagle art inspired then .
+Helen , the mother of great Constantine ,
+Nor yet Saint Philip's daughters were like thee .
+Bright star of Venus , fall'n down on the earth ,
+How may I reverently worship thee enough ?
+
+Leave off delays and let us raise the siege .
+
+Woman , do what thou canst to save our honours ;
+Drive them from Orleans and be immortalis'd .
+
+Presently we'll try . Come , let's away about it :
+No prophet will I trust if she prove false .
+
+
+I am come to survey the Tower this day ;
+Since Henry's death , I fear , there is conveyance .
+Where be these warders that they wait not here ?
+Open the gates ! 'Tis Gloucester that calls .
+
+
+Who's there that knocks so imperiously ?
+
+It is the noble Duke of Gloucester .
+
+Whoe'er he be , you may not be let in .
+
+Villains , answer you so the Lord Protector ?
+
+The Lord protect him ! so we answer him :
+We do not otherwise than we are will'd .
+
+Who willed you ? or whose will stands but mine ?
+There's none protector of the realm but I .
+Break up the gates , I'll be your warrantize :
+Shall I be flouted thus by dunghill grooms ?
+
+Lieutenant , is it you whose voice I hear ?
+Open the gates ! here's Gloucester that would enter .
+
+Have patience , noble Duke ; I may not open ;
+The Cardinal of Winchester forbids :
+From him I have express commandment
+That thou nor none of thine shall be let in .
+
+Faint-hearted Woodvile , prizest him 'fore me ?
+Arrogant Winchester , that haughty prelate ,
+Whom Henry , our late sovereign , ne'er could brook ?
+Thou art no friend to God or to the king :
+Open the gates , or I'll shut thee out shortly .
+
+Open the gates unto the Lord Protector ;
+Or we'll burst them open , if that you come not quickly .
+
+
+How now , ambitious Humphrey ! what means this ?
+
+Peel'd priest , dost thou command me to be shut out ?
+
+I do , thou most usurping proditor ,
+And not protector , of the king or realm .
+
+Stand back , thou manifest conspirator ,
+Thou that contriv'dst to murder our dead lord ;
+Thou that giv'st whores indulgences to sin :
+I'll canvass thee in thy broad cardinal's hat ,
+If thou proceed in this thy insolence .
+
+Nay , stand thou back ; I will not budge a foot :
+This be Damascus , be thou cursed Cam ,
+To slay thy brother Abel , if thou wilt .
+
+I will not slay thee , but I'll drive thee back :
+Thy scarlet robes as a child's bearing-cloth
+I'll use to carry thee out of this place .
+
+Do what thou dar'st ; I'll beard thee to thy face .
+
+What ! am I dar'd and bearded to my face ?
+Draw , men , for all this privileged place ;
+Blue coats to tawny-coats . Priest , beware your beard ;
+
+I mean to tug it and to cuff you soundly .
+Under my feet I stamp thy cardinal's hat ,
+In spite of pope or dignities of church ,
+Here by the cheeks I'll drag thee up and down .
+
+Gloucester , thou'lt answer this before the pope .
+
+Winchester goose ! I cry a rope ! a rope !
+Now beat them hence ; why do you let them stay ?
+Thee I'll chase hence , thou wolf in sheep's array .
+Out , tawny coats ! out , scarlet hypocrite !
+
+Fie , lords ! that you , being supreme magistrates ,
+Thus contumeliously should break the peace !
+
+Peace , mayor ! thou know'st little of my wrongs :
+Here's Beaufort , that regards nor God nor King ,
+Hath here distrain'd the Tower to his use .
+
+Here's Gloucester , a foe to citizens ;
+One that still motions war and never peace ,
+O'ercharging your free purses with large fines ,
+That seeks to overthrow religion
+Because he is protector of the realm ,
+And would have armour here out of the Tower ,
+To crown himself king and suppress the prince .
+
+I will not answer thee with words , but blows .
+
+
+Nought rests for me , in this tumultuous strife
+But to make open proclamation .
+Come , officer : as loud as e'er thou canst ;
+Cry .
+
+All manner of men , assembled here in arms this day , against God's peace and the king's , we charge and command you , in his highness' name , to repair to your several dwelling-places ; and not to wear , handle , or use , any sword , weapon , or dagger , henceforward , upon pain of death .
+
+Cardinal , I'll be no breaker of the law ;
+But we shall meet and break our minds at large .
+
+Gloucester , we will meet ; to thy cost , be sure :
+Thy heart-blood I will have for this day's work .
+
+I'll call for clubs if you will not away .
+This cardinal's more haughty than the devil .
+
+Mayor , farewell : thou dost but what thou mayst .
+
+Abominable Gloucester ! guard thy head ;
+For I intend to have it ere long .
+
+
+See the coast clear'd , and then we will depart .
+Good God ! these nobles should such stomachs bear ;
+I myself fight not once in forty year .
+
+
+Sirrah , thou know'st how Orleans is besieg'd ,
+And how the English have the suburbs won .
+
+Father , I know ; and oft have shot at them ,
+Howe'er unfortunate I miss'd my aim .
+
+But now thou shalt not . Be thou rul'd by me :
+Chief master-gunner am I of this town ;
+Something I must do to procure me grace .
+The prince's espials have informed me
+How the English , in the suburbs close entrench'd ,
+Wont through a secret gate of iron bars
+In yonder tower to overpeer the city ,
+And thence discover how with most advantage
+They may vex us with shot or with assault .
+To intercept this inconvenience ,
+A piece of ordnance 'gainst it I have plac'd ;
+And fully even these three days have I watch'd
+If I could see them . Now , boy , do thou watch ,
+For I can stay no longer .
+If thou spy'st any , run and bring me word ;
+And thou shalt find me at the Governor's .
+
+
+Father , I warrant you ; take you no care ;
+I'll never trouble you if I may spy them .
+
+
+Talbot , my life , my joy ! again return'd !
+How wert thou handled being prisoner ?
+Or by what means got'st thou to be releas'd ,
+Discourse , I prithee , on this turret's top .
+
+The Duke of Bedford had a prisoner
+Called the brave Lord Ponton de Santrailles ;
+For him I was exchang'd and ransomed .
+But with a baser man at arms by far
+Once in contempt they would have barter'd me :
+Which I disdaining scorn'd , and craved death
+Rather than I would be so vile-esteem'd .
+In fine , redeem'd I was as I desir'd .
+But , O ! the treacherous Fastolfe wounds my heart :
+Whom with my bare fists I would execute
+If I now had him brought into my power .
+
+Yet tell'st thou not how thou wert entertain'd .
+
+With scoffs and scorns and contumelious taunts .
+In open market-place produc'd they me ,
+To be a public spectacle to all :
+Here , said they , is the terror of the French ,
+The scarecrow that affrights our children so .
+Then broke I from the officers that led me ,
+And with my nails digg'd stones out of the ground
+To hurl at the beholders of my shame .
+My grisly countenance made others fly .
+None durst come near for fear of sudden death .
+In iron walls they deem'd me not secure ;
+So great fear of my name 'mongst them was spread
+That they suppos'd I could rend bars of steel
+And spurn in pieces posts of adamant :
+Wherefore a guard of chosen shot I had ,
+That walk'd about me every minute-while ;
+And if I did but stir out of my bed
+Ready they were to shoot me to the heart .
+
+
+I grieve to hear what torments you endur'd ;
+But we will be reveng'd sufficiently .
+Now it is supper-time in Orleans :
+Here , through this grate , I count each one ,
+And view the Frenchmen how they fortify :
+Let us look in ; the sight will much delight thee .
+Sir Thomas Gargrave , and Sir William Glansdale ,
+Let me have your express opinions
+Where is best place to make our battery next .
+
+I think at the North gate ; for there stand lords .
+
+And I , here , at the bulwark of the bridge .
+
+For aught I see , this city must be famish'd ,
+Or with light skirmishes enfeebled .
+
+
+O Lord ! have mercy on us , wretched sinners .
+
+O Lord ! have mercy on me , woeful man .
+
+What chance is this that suddenly hath cross'd us ?
+Speak , Salisbury ; at least , if thou canst speak :
+How far'st thou , mirror of all martial men ?
+One of thy eyes and thy cheek's side struck off !
+Accursed tower ! accursed fatal hand
+That hath contriv'd this woeful tragedy !
+In thirteen battles Salisbury o'ercame ;
+Henry the Fifth he first train'd to the wars ;
+Whilst any trump did sound or drum struck up ,
+His sword did ne'er leave striking in the field .
+Yet liv'st thou , Salisbury ? though thy speech doth fail ,
+One eye thou hast to look to heaven for grace :
+The sun with one eye vieweth all the world .
+Heaven , be thou gracious to none alive ,
+If Salisbury wants mercy at thy hands !
+Bear hence his body ; I will help to bury it .
+Sir Thomas Gargrave , hast thou any life ?
+Speak unto Talbot ; nay , look up to him .
+Salisbury , cheer thy spirit with this comfort ;
+Thou shalt not die , whiles
+He beckons with his hand and smiles on me ,
+As who should say , 'When I am dead and gone ,
+Remember to avenge me on the French .'
+Plantagenet , I will ; and like thee , Nero ,
+Play on the lute , beholding the towns burn :
+Wretched shall France be only in my name .
+
+What stir is this ? What tumult's in the heavens ?
+Whence cometh this alarum and the noise ?
+
+
+My lord , my lord ! the French have gather'd head :
+The Dauphin , with one Joan la Pucelle join'd ,
+A holy prophetess new risen up
+Is come with a great power to raise the siege .
+
+
+Hear , hear how dying Salisbury doth groan !
+It irks his heart he cannot be reveng'd .
+Frenchmen , I'll be a Salisbury to you :
+Pucelle or puzzel , dolphin or dogfish ,
+Your hearts I'll stamp out with my horse's heels
+And make a quagmire of your mingled brains .
+Convey me Salisbury into his tent ,
+And then we'll try what these dastard Frenchmen dare .
+
+
+Where is my strength , my valour , and my force ?
+Our English troops retire , I cannot stay them ;
+A woman clad in armour chaseth them .
+
+
+Here , here she comes . I'll have a bout with thee :
+Devil , or devil's dam , I'll conjure thee :
+Blood will I draw on thee , thou art a witch ,
+
+And straightway give thy soul to him thou serv'st .
+
+Come , come ; 'tis only I that must disgrace thee .
+
+
+Heavens , can you suffer hell so to prevail ?
+My breast I'll burst with straining of my courage ,
+And from my shoulders crack my arms asunder ,
+But I will chastise this high-minded strumpet .
+
+
+Talbot , farewell ; thy hour is not yet come :
+I must go victual Orleans forthwith .
+
+O'ertake me if thou canst ; I scorn thy strength .
+Go , go , cheer up thy hunger-starved men ;
+Help Salisbury to make his testament :
+This day is ours , as many more shall be .
+
+
+My thoughts are whirled like a potter's wheel ;
+I know not where I am , nor what I do :
+A witch , by fear , not force , like Hannibal ,
+Drives back our troops and conquers as she lists :
+So bees with smoke , and doves with noisome stench ,
+Are from their hives and houses driven away .
+They call'd us for our fierceness English dogs ;
+Now , like to whelps , we crying run away .
+
+Hark , countrymen ! either renew the fight ,
+Or tear the lions out of England's coat ;
+Renounce your soil , give sheep in lions' stead :
+Sheep run not half so treacherous from the wolf ,
+Or horse or oxen from the leopard ,
+As you fly from your oft-subdued slaves .
+
+It will not be : retire into your trenches :
+You all consented unto Salisbury's death ,
+For none would strike a stroke in his revenge .
+Pucelle is entered into Orleans
+In spite of us or aught that we could do .
+O ! would I were to die with Salisbury .
+The shame hereof will make me hide my head .
+
+
+Advance our waving colours on the walls ;
+Rescu'd is Orleans from the English :
+Thus Joan la Pucelle hath perform'd her word .
+
+Divinest creature , Astr a's daughter ,
+How shall I honour thee for this success ?
+Thy promises are like Adonis' gardens ,
+That one day bloom'd and fruitful were the next .
+France , triumph in thy glorious prophetess !
+Recover'd is the town of Orleans :
+More blessed hap did ne'er befall our state .
+
+Why ring not out the bells throughout the town ?
+Dauphin , command the citizens make bonfires
+And feast and banquet in the open streets ,
+To celebrate the joy that God hath given us .
+
+All France will be replete with mirth and joy ,
+When they shall hear how we have play'd the men .
+
+'Tis Joan , not we , by whom the day is won ;
+For which I will divide my crown with her ;
+And all the priests and friars in my realm
+Shall in procession sing her endless praise .
+A statelier pyramis to her I'll rear
+Than Rhodope's or Memphis ever was :
+In memory of her when she is dead ,
+Her ashes , in an urn more precious
+Than the rich-jewell'd coffer of Darius ,
+Transported shall be at high festivals
+Before the kings and queens of France .
+No longer on Saint Denis will we cry ,
+But Joan la Pucelle shall be France's saint .
+Come in , and let us banquet royally ,
+After this golden day of victory .
+
+Sirs , take your places and be vigilant .
+If any noise or soldier you perceive
+Near to the walls , by some apparent sign
+Let us have knowledge at the court of guard .
+
+Sergeant , you shall .
+
+Thus are poor servitors
+When others sleep upon their quiet beds
+Constrain'd to watch in darkness , rain , and cold .
+
+
+Lord regent , and redoubted Burgundy ,
+By whose approach the regions of Artois ,
+Walloon , and Picardy , are friends to us ,
+This happy night the Frenchmen are secure ,
+Having all day carous'd and banqueted :
+Embrace we then this opportunity ,
+As fitting best to quittance their deceit
+Contriv'd by art and baleful sorcery .
+
+Coward of France ! how much he wrongs his fame ,
+Despairing of his own arm's fortitude ,
+To join with witches and the help of hell !
+
+Traitors have never other company .
+But what's that Pucelle whom they term so pure ?
+
+A maid , they say .
+
+A maid , and be so martial !
+
+Pray God she prove not masculine ere long ;
+If underneath the standard of the French
+She carry armour , as she hath begun .
+
+Well , let them practise and converse with spirits ;
+God is our fortress , in whose conquering name
+Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks .
+
+Ascend , brave Talbot ; we will follow thee .
+
+Not all together : better far , I guess ,
+That we do make our entrance several ways ,
+That if it chance the one of us do fail ,
+The other yet may rise against their force .
+
+Agreed . I'll to yond corner .
+
+And I to this .
+
+And here will Talbot mount , or make his grave .
+Now , Salisbury , for thee , and for the right
+Of English Henry , shall this night appear
+How much in duty I am bound to both .
+
+
+Arm , arm ! the enemy doth make assault !
+
+How now , my lords ! what ! all unready so ?
+
+Unready ! ay , and glad we 'scap'd so well .
+
+'Twas time , I trow , to wake and leave our beds ,
+Hearing alarums at our chamber-doors .
+
+Of all exploits since first I follow'd arms ,
+Ne'er heard I of a war-like enterprise
+More venturous or desperate than this .
+
+I think this Talbot be a fiend of hell .
+
+If not of hell , the heavens , sure , favour him .
+
+Here cometh Charles : I marvel how he sped .
+
+Tut ! holy Joan was his defensive guard .
+
+
+Is this thy cunning , thou deceitful dame ?
+Didst thou at first , to flatter us withal ,
+Make us partakers of a little gain ,
+That now our loss might be ten times so much ?
+
+Wherefore is Charles impatient with his friend ?
+At all times will you have my power alike ?
+Sleeping or waking must I still prevail ,
+Or will you blame and lay the fault on me ?
+Improvident soldiers ! had your watch been good ,
+This sudden mischief never could have fall'n .
+
+Duke of Alen on , this was your default ,
+That , being captain of the watch to-night ,
+Did look no better to that weighty charge .
+
+Had all your quarters been so safely kept
+As that whereof I had the government ,
+We had not been thus shamefully surpris'd .
+
+Mine was secure .
+
+And so was mine , my lord .
+
+And for myself , most part of all this night ,
+Within her quarter and mine own precinct
+I was employ'd in passing to and fro ,
+About relieving of the sentinels :
+Then how or which way should they first break in ?
+
+Question , my lords , no further of the case ,
+How or which way : 'tis sure they found some place
+But weakly guarded , where the breach was made .
+And now there rests no other shift but this ;
+To gather our soldiers , scatter'd and dispers'd ,
+And lay new platforms to endamage them .
+
+I'll be so bold to take what they have left .
+The cry of Talbot serves me for a sword ;
+For I have loaden me with many spoils ,
+Using no other weapon but his name .
+
+
+The day begins to break , and night is fled ,
+Whose pitchy mantle over-veil'd the earth .
+Here sound retreat , and cease our hot pursuit .
+
+
+Bring forth the body of old Salisbury ,
+And here advance it in the market-place ,
+The middle centre of this cursed town .
+Now have I paid my vow unto his soul ;
+For every drop of blood was drawn from him
+There hath at least five Frenchmen died to-night .
+And that hereafter ages may behold
+What ruin happen'd in revenge of him ,
+Within their chiefest temple I'll erect
+A tomb wherein his corse shall be interr'd :
+Upon the which , that every one may read ,
+Shall be engrav'd the sack of Orleans ,
+The treacherous manner of his mournful death ,
+And what a terror he had been to France .
+But , lords , in all our bloody massacre ,
+I muse we met not with the Dauphin's grace ,
+His new-come champion , virtuous Joan of Arc ,
+Nor any of his false confederates .
+
+'Tis thought , Lord Talbot , when the fight began ,
+Rous'd on the sudden from their drowsy beds ,
+They did amongst the troops of armed men
+Leap o'er the walls for refuge in the field .
+
+Myself as far as I could well discern
+For smoke and dusky vapours of the night
+Am sure I scar'd the Dauphin and his trull ,
+When arm in arm they both came swiftly running ,
+Like to a pair of loving turtle-doves
+That could not live asunder day or night .
+After that things are set in order here ,
+We'll follow them with all the power we have .
+
+
+All hail , my lords ! Which of this princely train
+Call ye the war-like Talbot , for his acts
+So much applauded through the realm of France ?
+
+Here is the Talbot : who would speak with him ?
+
+The virtuous lady , Countess of Auvergne ,
+With modesty admiring thy renown ,
+By me entreats , great lord , thou wouldst vouchsafe
+To visit her poor castle where she lies ,
+That she may boast she hath beheld the man
+Whose glory fills the world with loud report .
+
+Is it even so ? Nay , then , I see our wars
+Will turn into a peaceful comic sport ,
+When ladies crave to be encounter'd with .
+You may not , my lord , despise her gentle suit .
+
+Ne'er trust me then ; for when a world of men
+Could not prevail with all their oratory ,
+Yet hath a woman's kindness over-rul'd :
+And therefore tell her I return great thanks ,
+And in submission will attend on her .
+Will not your honours bear me company ?
+
+No , truly ; it is more than manners will ;
+And I have heard it said , unbidden guests
+Are often welcomest when they are gone .
+
+Well then , alone ,since there's no remedy ,
+I mean to prove this lady's courtesy .
+Come hither , captain .
+
+You perceive my mind .
+
+I do , my lord , and mean accordingly .
+
+
+Porter , remember what I gave in charge ;
+And when you have done so , bring the keys to me .
+
+Madam , I will .
+
+
+The plot is laid : if all things fall out right ,
+I shall as famous be by this exploit
+As Scythian Tomyris by Cyrus' death .
+Great is the rumour of this dreadful knight ,
+And his achievements of no less account :
+Fain would mine eyes be witness with mine ears ,
+To give their censure of these rare reports .
+
+
+Madam ,
+According as your ladyship desir'd ,
+By message crav'd , so is Lord Talbot come .
+
+And he is welcome . What ! is this the man ?
+
+Madam , it is .
+
+Is this the scourge of France ?
+Is this the Talbot , so much fear'd abroad ,
+That with his name the mothers still their babes ?
+I see report is fabulous and false :
+I thought I should have seen some Hercules ,
+A second Hector , for his grim aspect ,
+And large proportion of his strong-knit limbs .
+Alas ! this is a child , a silly dwarf :
+It cannot be this weak and writhled shrimp
+Should strike such terror to his enemies .
+
+Madam , I have been bold to trouble you ;
+But since your ladyship is not at leisure ,
+I'll sort some other time to visit you .
+
+What means he now ? Go ask him whither he goes .
+
+Stay , my Lord Talbot ; for my lady craves
+To know the cause of your abrupt departure .
+
+Marry , for that she's in a wrong belief ,
+I go to certify her Talbot's here .
+
+
+If thou be he , then art thou prisoner .
+
+Prisoner ! to whom ?
+
+To me , blood-thirsty lord ;
+And for that cause I train'd thee to my house .
+Long time thy shadow hath been thrall to me ,
+For in my gallery thy picture hangs :
+But now the substance shall endure the like ,
+And I will chain these legs and arms of thine ,
+That hast by tyranny , these many years
+Wasted our country , slain our citizens ,
+And sent our sons and husbands captivate .
+
+Ha , ha , ha !
+
+Laughest thou , wretch ? thy mirth shall turn to moan .
+
+I laugh to see your ladyship so fond
+To think that you have aught but Talbot's shadow ,
+Whereon to practise your severity .
+
+Why , art not thou the man ?
+
+I am , indeed .
+
+Then have I substance too .
+
+No , no , I am but shadow of myself :
+You are deceiv'd , my substance is not here ;
+For what you see is but the smallest part
+And least proportion of humanity .
+I tell you , madam , were the whole frame here ,
+It is of such a spacious lofty pitch ,
+Your roof were not sufficient to contain it .
+
+This is a riddling merchant for the nonce ;
+He will be here , and yet he is not here :
+How can these contrarieties agree ?
+
+That will I show you presently .
+
+
+How say you , madam ? are you now persuaded
+That Talbot is but shadow of himself ?
+These are his substance , sinews , arms , and strength ,
+With which he yoketh your rebellious necks ,
+Razeth your cities , and subverts your towns ,
+
+And in a moment makes them desolate .
+
+Victorious Talbot ! pardon my abuse :
+I find thou art no less than fame hath bruited ,
+And more than may be gather'd by thy shape .
+Let my presumption not provoke thy wrath ;
+For I am sorry that with reverence
+I did not entertain thee as thou art .
+
+Be not dismay'd , fair lady ; nor misconster
+The mind of Talbot as you did mistake
+The outward composition of his body .
+What you have done hath not offended me ;
+Nor other satisfaction do I crave ,
+But only , with your patience , that we may
+Taste of your wine and see what cates you have ;
+For soldiers' stomachs always serve them well .
+
+With all my heart , and think me honoured
+To feast so great a warrior in my house .
+
+
+Great lords , and gentlemen , what means this silence ?
+Dare no man answer in a case of truth ?
+
+Within the Temple hall we were too loud ;
+The garden here is more convenient .
+
+Then say at once if I maintain'd the truth ,
+Or else was wrangling Somerset in the error ?
+
+Faith , I have been a truant in the law ,
+And never yet could frame my will to it ;
+And therefore frame the law unto my will .
+
+Judge you , my Lord of Warwick , then , between us .
+
+Between two hawks , which flies the higher pitch ;
+Between two dogs , which hath the deeper mouth ;
+Between two blades , which bears the better temper ;
+Between two horses , which doth bear him best ;
+Between two girls , which hath the merriest eye ;
+I have perhaps , some shallow spirit of judgment ;
+But in these nice sharp quillets of the law ,
+Good faith , I am no wiser than a daw .
+
+Tut , tut ! here is a mannerly forbearance :
+The truth appears so naked on my side ,
+That any purblind eye may find it out .
+
+And on my side it is so well apparell'd ,
+So clear , so shining , and so evident ,
+That it will glimmer through a blind man's eye .
+
+Since you are tongue-tied , and so loath to speak ,
+In dumb significants proclaim your thoughts :
+Let him that is a true-born gentleman ,
+And stands upon the honour of his birth ,
+If he suppose that I have pleaded truth ,
+From off this brier pluck a white rose with me .
+
+Let him that is no coward nor no flatterer ,
+But dare maintain the party of the truth ,
+Pluck a red rose from off this thorn with me .
+
+I love no colours , and , without all colour
+Of base insinuating flattery
+I pluck this white rose with Plantagenet .
+
+I pluck this red rose with young Somerset :
+And say withal I think he held the right .
+
+Stay , lords and gentlemen , and pluck no more ,
+Till you conclude that he , upon whose side
+The fewest roses are cropp'd from the tree ,
+Shall yield the other in the right opinion .
+
+Good Master Vernon , it is well objected :
+If I have fewest I subscribe in silence .
+
+And I .
+
+Then for the truth and plainness of the case ,
+I pluck this pale and maiden blossom here ,
+Giving my verdict on the white rose side .
+
+Prick not your finger as you pluck it off ,
+Lest bleeding you do paint the white rose red ,
+And fall on my side so , against your will .
+
+If I , my lord , for my opinion bleed ,
+Opinion shall be surgeon to my hurt ,
+And keep me on the side where still I am .
+
+Well , well , come on : who else ?
+
+Unless my study and my books be false ,
+The argument you held was wrong in you ,
+In sign whereof I pluck a white rose too .
+
+Now , Somerset , where is your argument ?
+
+Here , in my scabbard ; meditating that
+Shall dye your white rose in a bloody red .
+
+Meantime , your cheeks do counterfeit our roses ;
+For pale they look with fear , as witnessing
+The truth on our side .
+
+No , Plantagenet ,
+'Tis not for fear but anger that thy cheeks
+Blush for pure shame to counterfeit our roses ,
+And yet thy tongue will not confess thy error .
+
+Hath not thy rose a canker , Somerset ?
+
+Hath not thy rose a thorn , Plantagenet ?
+
+Ay , sharp and piercing , to maintain his truth ;
+Whiles thy consuming canker eats his falsehood .
+
+Well , I'll find friends to wear my bleeding roses ,
+That shall maintain what I have said is true ,
+Where false Plantagenet dare not be seen .
+
+Now , by this maiden blossom in my hand ,
+I scorn thee and thy faction , peevish boy .
+
+Turn not thy scorns this way , Plantagenet .
+
+Proud Pole , I will , and scorn both him and thee .
+
+I'll turn my part thereof into thy throat .
+
+Away , away ! good William de la Pole :
+We grace the yeoman by conversing with him .
+
+Now , by God's will , thou wrong'st him , Somerset :
+His grandfather was Lionel , Duke of Clarence ,
+Third son to the third Edward , King of England .
+Spring crestless yeomen from so deep a root ?
+
+He bears him on the place's privilege ,
+Or durst not , for his craven heart , say thus .
+
+By Him that made me , I'll maintain my words
+On any plot of ground in Christendom .
+Was not thy father , Richard Earl of Cambridge ,
+For treason executed in our late king's days ?
+And , by his treason stand'st not thou attainted ,
+Corrupted , and exempt from ancient gentry ?
+His trespass yet lives guilty in thy blood ;
+And , till thou be restor'd , thou art a yeoman .
+
+My father was attached , not attained ;
+Condemn'd to die for treason , but no traitor ;
+And that I'll prove on better men than Somerset ,
+Were growing time once ripen'd to my will .
+For your partaker Pole and you yourself ,
+I'll note you in my book of memory ,
+To scourge you for this apprehension :
+Look to it well and say you are well warn'd .
+
+Ah , thou shalt find us ready for thee still ,
+And know us by these colours for thy foes ;
+For these my friends in spite of thee shall wear .
+
+And , by my soul , this pale and angry rose ,
+As cognizance of my blood-drinking hate ,
+Will I for ever and my faction wear ,
+Until it wither with me to my grave
+Or flourish to the height of my degree .
+
+Go forward , and be chok'd with thy ambition :
+And so farewell until I meet thee next .
+
+
+Have with thee , Pole . Farewell , ambitious Richard .
+
+
+How I am brav'd and must perforce endure it !
+
+This blot that they object against your house
+Shall be wip'd out in the next parliament ,
+Call'd for the truce of Winchester and Gloucester ;
+And if thou be not then created York ,
+I will not live to be accounted Warwick .
+Meantime in signal of my love to thee ,
+Against proud Somerset and William Pole ,
+Will I upon thy party wear this rose .
+And here I prophesy : this brawl to-day ,
+Grown to this faction in the Temple garden ,
+Shall send between the red rose and the white
+A thousand souls to death and deadly night .
+
+Good Master Vernon , I am bound to you ,
+That you on my behalf would pluck a flower .
+
+In your behalf still would I wear the same .
+
+And so will I .
+
+Thanks , gentle sir .
+Come , let us four to dinner : I dare say
+This quarrel will drink blood another day .
+
+
+Kind keepers of my weak decaying age ,
+Let dying Mortimer here rest himself .
+Even like a man new haled from the rack ,
+So fare my limbs with long imprisonment ;
+And these gray locks , the pursuivants of death ,
+Nestor-like aged , in an age of care ,
+Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer .
+These eyes , like lamps whose wasting oil is spent ,
+Wax dim , as drawing to their exigent ;
+Weak shoulders , overborne with burdening grief ,
+And pithless arms , like to a wither'd vine
+That droops his sapless branches to the ground :
+Yet are these feet , whose strengthless stay is numb ,
+Unable to support this lump of clay ,
+Swift-winged with desire to get a grave ,
+As witting I no other comfort have .
+But tell me , keeper , will my nephew come ?
+
+Richard Plantagenet , my lord , will come :
+We sent unto the Temple , unto his chamber .
+And answer was return'd that he will come .
+
+Enough : my soul shall then be satisfied .
+Poor gentleman ! his wrong doth equal mine .
+Since Henry Monmouth first began to reign ,
+Before whose glory I was great in arms ,
+This loathsome sequestration have I had ;
+And even since then hath Richard been obscur'd ,
+Depriv'd of honour and inheritance .
+But now the arbitrator of despairs ,
+Just death , kind umpire of men's miseries ,
+With sweet enlargement doth dismiss me hence :
+I would his troubles likewise were expir'd ,
+That so he might recover what was lost .
+
+
+My lord , your loving nephew now is come .
+
+Richard Plantagenet , my friend , is he come ?
+
+Ay , noble uncle , thus ignobly us'd ,
+Your nephew , late despised Richard , comes .
+
+Direct mine arms I may embrace his neck ,
+And in his bosom spend my latter gasp :
+O ! tell me when my lips do touch his cheeks ,
+That I may kindly give one fainting kiss .
+And now declare , sweet stem from York's great stock ,
+Why didst thou say of late thou wert despis'd ?
+
+First , lean thine aged back against mine arm ;
+And in that ease , I'll tell thee my disease .
+This day , in argument upon a case ,
+Some words there grew 'twixt Somerset and me ;
+Among which terms he us'd a lavish tongue
+And did upbraid me with my father's death :
+Which obloquy set bars before my tongue ,
+Else with the like I had requited him .
+Therefore , good uncle , for my father's sake ,
+In honour of a true Plantagenet ,
+And for alliance sake , declare the cause
+My father , Earl of Cambridge , lost his head .
+
+That cause , fair nephew , that imprison'd me ,
+And hath detain'd me all my flow'ring youth
+Within a loathsome dungeon , there to pine ,
+Was cursed instrument of his decease .
+
+Discover more at large what cause that was ,
+For I am ignorant and cannot guess .
+
+I will , if that my fading breath permit ,
+And death approach not ere my tale be done .
+Henry the Fourth , grandfather to this king ,
+Depos'd his nephew Richard , Edward's son ,
+The first-begotten , and the lawful heir
+Of Edward king , the third of that descent :
+During whose reign the Percies of the North ,
+Finding his usurpation most unjust ,
+Endeavour'd my advancement to the throne .
+The reason mov'd these warlike lords to this
+Was , for that young King Richard thus remov'd ,
+Leaving no heir begotten of his body
+I was the next by birth and parentage ;
+For by my mother I derived am
+From Lionel Duke of Clarence , the third son
+To King Edward the Third ; whereas he
+From John of Gaunt doth bring his pedigree ,
+Being but fourth of that heroic line .
+But mark : as , in this haughty great attempt
+They laboured to plant the rightful heir ,
+I lost my liberty , and they their lives .
+Long after this , when Henry the Fifth
+Succeeding his father Bolingbroke , did reign ,
+Thy father , Earl of Cambridge , then deriv'd
+From famous Edmund Langley , Duke of York ,
+Marrying my sister that thy mother was ,
+Again in pity of my hard distress
+Levied an army , weening to redeem
+And have install'd me in the diadem ;
+But , as the rest , so fell that noble earl ,
+And was beheaded . Thus the Mortimers ,
+In whom the title rested , were suppress'd .
+
+Of which , my lord , your honour is the last .
+
+True ; and thou seest that I no issue have ,
+And that my fainting words do warrant death :
+Thou art my heir ; the rest I wish thee gather :
+But yet be wary in thy studious care .
+
+Thy grave admonishments prevail with me .
+But yet methinks my father's execution
+Was nothing less than bloody tyranny .
+
+With silence , nephew , be thou politic :
+Strong-fixed is the house of Lancaster ,
+And like a mountain , not to be remov'd .
+But now thy uncle is removing hence ,
+As princes do their courts , when they are cloy'd
+With long continuance in a settled place .
+
+O uncle ! would some part of my young years
+Might but redeem the passage of your age .
+
+Thou dost then wrong me ,as the slaughterer doth ,
+Which giveth many wounds when one will kill .
+Mourn not , except thou sorrow for my good ;
+Only give order for my funeral :
+And so farewell ; and fair be all thy hopes ,
+And prosperous be thy life in peace and war !
+
+
+And peace , no war , befall thy parting soul !
+In prison hast thou spent a pilgrimage ,
+And like a hermit overpass'd thy days .
+Well , I will lock his counsel in my breast ;
+And what I do imagine let that rest .
+Keepers , convey him hence ; and I myself
+Will see his burial better than his life .
+
+Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer ,
+Chok'd with ambition of the meaner sort :
+And , for those wrongs , those bitter injuries ,
+Which Somerset hath offer'd to my house ,
+I doubt not but with honour to redress ;
+And therefore haste I to the parliament ,
+Either to be restored to my blood ,
+Or make my ill the advantage of my good .
+
+
+Com'st thou with deep premeditated lines ,
+With written pamphlets studiously devis'd ,
+Humphrey of Gloucester ? If thou canst accuse ,
+Or aught intend'st to lay unto my charge ,
+Do it without invention , suddenly ;
+As I , with sudden and extemporal speech
+Purpose to answer what thou canst object .
+
+Presumptuous priest ! this place commands my patience
+Or thou shouldst find thou hast dishonour'd me .
+Think not , although in writing I preferr'd
+The manner of thy vile outrageous crimes ,
+That therefore I have forg'd , or am not able
+Verbatim to rehearse the method of my pen :
+No , prelate ; such is thy audacious wickedness ,
+Thy lewd , pestiferous , and dissentious pranks ,
+As very infants prattle of thy pride .
+Thou art a most pernicious usurer ,
+Froward by nature , enemy to peace ;
+Lascivious , wanton , more than well beseems
+A man of thy profession and degree ;
+And for thy treachery , what's more manifest ?
+In that thou laid'st a trap to take my life
+As well at London Bridge as at the Tower .
+Beside , I fear me , if thy thoughts were sifted ,
+The king , thy sov'reign , is not quite exempt
+From envious malice of thy swelling heart .
+
+Gloucester , I do defy thee . Lords , vouchsafe
+To give me hearing what I shall reply .
+If I were covetous , ambitious , or perverse ,
+As he will have me , how am I so poor ?
+Or how haps it I seek not to advance
+Or raise myself , but keep my wonted calling ?
+And for dissension , who preferreth peace
+More than I do , except I be provok'd ?
+No , my good lords , it is not that offends ;
+It is not that that hath incens'd the duke :
+It is , because no one should sway but he ;
+No one but he should be about the king ;
+And that engenders thunder in his breast ,
+And makes him roar these accusations forth .
+But he shall know I am as good
+
+As good !
+Thou bastard of my grandfather !
+
+Ay , lordly sir ; for what are you , I pray ,
+But one imperious in another's throne ?
+
+Am I not protector , saucy priest ?
+
+And am not I a prelate of the church ?
+
+Yes , as an outlaw in a castle keeps ,
+And useth it to patronage his theft .
+
+Unreverent Gloucester !
+
+Thou art reverent ,
+Touching thy spiritual function , not thy life .
+
+Rome shall remedy this .
+
+Roam thither then .
+
+My lord , it were your duty to forbear .
+
+Ay , see the bishop be not overborne .
+
+Methinks my lord should be religious ,
+And know the office that belongs to such .
+
+Methinks his lordship should be humbler ;
+It fitteth not a prelate so to plead .
+
+Yes , when his holy state is touch'd so near .
+
+State holy , or unhallow'd , what of that ?
+Is not his Grace protector to the king ?
+
+Plantagenet , I see , must hold his tongue ,
+Lest it be said , 'Speak , sirrah , when you should ;
+Must your bold verdict enter talk with lords ?'
+Else would I have a fling at Winchester .
+
+Uncles of Gloucester and of Winchester ,
+The special watchmen of our English weal ,
+I would prevail , if prayers might prevail ,
+To join your hearts in love and amity .
+O ! what a scandal is it to our crown ,
+That two such noble peers as ye should jar .
+Believe me , lords , my tender years can tell
+Civil dissension is a viperous worm ,
+That gnaws the bowels of the commonwealth .
+
+What tumult's this ?
+
+An uproar , I dare warrant ,
+Begun through malice of the bishop's men .
+
+O , my good lords , and virtuous Henry ,
+Pity the city of London , pity us !
+The bishop and the Duke of Gloucester's men ,
+Forbidden late to carry any weapon ,
+Have fill'd their pockets full of pebble stones ,
+And banding themselves in contrary parts
+Do pelt so fast at one another's pate ,
+That many have their giddy brains knock'd out :
+Our windows are broke down in every street ,
+And we for fear compell'd to shut our shops .
+
+
+We charge you , on allegiance to ourself ,
+To hold your slaught'ring hands , and keep the peace .
+Pray , uncle Gloucester , mitigate this strife .
+
+Nay , if we be forbidden stones , we'll fall to it with our teeth .
+
+Do what ye dare , we are as resolute .
+
+
+You of my household , leave this peevish broil ,
+And set this unaccustom'd fight aside .
+
+My lord , we know your Grace to be a man
+Just and upright , and , for your royal birth ,
+Inferior to none but to his majesty ;
+And ere that we will suffer such a prince ,
+So kind a father of the commonweal ,
+To be disgraced by an inkhorn mate ,
+We and our wives and children all will fight ,
+And have our bodies slaught'red by thy foes .
+
+Ay , and the very parings of our nails
+Shall pitch a field when we are dead .
+
+
+Stay , stay , I say !
+And , if you love me , as you say you do ,
+Let me persuade you to forbear a while .
+
+O ! how this discord doth afflict my soul !
+Can you , my Lord of Winchester , behold
+My sighs and tears and will not once relent ?
+Who should be pitiful if you be not ?
+Or who should study to prefer a peace
+If holy churchmen take delight in broils ?
+
+Yield , my Lord Protector ; yield , Winchester ;
+Except you mean with obstinate repulse
+To slay your sov'reign and destroy the realm .
+You see what mischief and what murder too
+Hath been enacted through your enmity :
+Then be at peace , except ye thirst for blood .
+
+He shall submit or I will never yield .
+
+Compassion on the king commands me stoop ;
+Or I would see his heart out ere the priest
+Should ever get that privilege of me .
+
+Behold , my Lord of Winchester , the duke
+Hath banish'd moody discontented fury ,
+As by his smoothed brows it doth appear :
+Why look you still so stern and tragical ?
+
+Here , Winchester , I offer thee my hand .
+
+Fie , uncle Beaufort ! I have heard you preach ,
+That malice was a great and grievous sin ;
+And will not you maintain the thing you teach ,
+But prove a chief offender in the same ?
+
+Sweet king ! the bishop hath a kindly gird .
+For shame , my Lord of Winchester , relent !
+What ! shall a child instruct you what to do ?
+
+Well , Duke of Gloucester , I will yield to thee ;
+Love for thy love and hand for hand I give .
+
+Ay ; but I fear me , with a hollow heart .
+See here , my friends and loving countrymen ,
+This token serveth for a flag of truce ,
+Betwixt ourselves and all our followers .
+So help me God , as I dissemble not !
+
+So help me God , as I intend it not !
+
+O loving uncle , kind Duke of Gloucester ,
+How joyful am I made by this contract !
+Away , my masters ! trouble us no more ;
+But join in friendship , as your lords have done .
+
+Content : I'll to the surgeon's .
+
+And so will I .
+
+And I will see what physic the tavern affords .
+
+
+Accept this scroll , most gracious sovereign ,
+Which in the right of Richard Plantagenet
+We do exhibit to your majesty .
+
+Well urg'd , my Lord of Warwick : for , sweet prince ,
+An if your Grace mark every circumstance ,
+You have great reason to do Richard right ;
+Especially for those occasions
+At Eltham-place I told your majesty .
+
+And those occasions , uncle , were of force :
+Therefore , my loving lords , our pleasure is
+That Richard be restored to his blood .
+
+Let Richard be restored to his blood ;
+So shall his father's wrongs be recompens'd .
+
+As will the rest , so willeth Winchester .
+
+If Richard will be true , not that alone ,
+But all the whole inheritance I give
+That doth belong unto the house of York ,
+From whence you spring by lineal descent .
+
+Thy humble servant vows obedience ,
+And humble service till the point of death .
+
+Stoop then and set your knee against my foot ;
+And , in reguerdon of that duty done ,
+I girt thee with the valiant sword of York :
+Rise , Richard , like a true Plantagenet ,
+And rise created princely Duke of York .
+
+And so thrive Richard as thy foes may fall !
+And as my duty springs , so perish they
+That grudge one thought against your majesty !
+
+Welcome , high prince , the mighty Duke of York !
+
+Perish , base prince , ignoble Duke of York !
+
+Now , will it best avail your majesty
+To cross the seas and to be crown'd in France .
+The presence of a king engenders love
+Amongst his subjects and his loyal friends ,
+As it disanimates his enemies .
+
+When Gloucester says the word , King Henry goes ;
+For friendly counsel cuts off many foes .
+
+Your ships already are in readiness .
+
+
+Ay , we may march in England or in France ,
+Not seeing what is likely to ensue .
+This late dissension grown betwixt the peers
+Burns under feigned ashes of forg'd love ,
+And will at last break out into a flame :
+As fester'd members rot but by degree ,
+Till bones and flesh and sinews fall away ,
+So will this base and envious discord breed .
+And now I fear that fatal prophecy
+Which in the time of Henry , nam'd the Fifth ,
+Was in the mouth of every sucking babe ;
+That Henry born at Monmouth should win all ;
+And Henry born at Windsor should lose all :
+Which is so plain that Exeter doth wish
+His days may finish ere that hapless time .
+
+These are the city gates , the gates of Roan ,
+Through which our policy must make a breach :
+Take heed , be wary how you place your words ;
+Talk like the vulgar sort of market-men
+That come to gather money for their corn .
+If we have entrance ,as I hope we shall ,
+And that we find the slothful watch but weak ,
+I'll by a sign give notice to our friends ,
+That Charles the Dauphin may encounter them .
+
+Our sacks shall be a mean to sack the city ,
+And we be lords and rulers over Roan ;
+Therefore we'll knock .
+
+
+Qui est l ?
+
+Paisans , pauvres gens de France :
+Poor market-folks that come to sell their corn .
+
+Enter , go in ; the market-bell is rung .
+
+Now , Roan , I'll shake thy bulwarks to the ground .
+
+Saint Denis bless this happy stratagem !
+And once again we'll sleep secure in Roan .
+
+Here enter'd Pucelle and her practisants ;
+Now she is there how will she specify
+Where is the best and safest passage in ?
+
+By thrusting out a torch from yonder tower ;
+Which , once discern'd , shows that her meaning is ,
+No way to that , for weakness , which she enter'd .
+
+
+Behold ! this is the happy wedding torch
+That joineth Roan unto her countrymen ,
+But burning fatal to the Talbotites !
+
+
+See , noble Charles , the beacon of our friend ,
+The burning torch in yonder turret stands .
+
+Now shine it like a comet of revenge ,
+A prophet to the fall of all our foes !
+
+Defer no time , delays have dangerous ends ;
+Enter , and cry 'The Dauphin !' presently ,
+And then do execution on the watch .
+
+France , thou shalt rue this treason with thy tears ,
+If Talbot but survive thy treachery .
+Pucelle , that witch , that damned sorceress ,
+Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares ,
+That hardly we escap'd the pride of France .
+
+
+Good morrow , gallants ! Want ye corn for bread ?
+I think the Duke of Burgundy will fast
+Before he'll buy again at such a rate .
+'Twas full of darnel ; do you like the taste ?
+
+Scoff on , vile fiend and shameless courtezan !
+I trust ere long to choke thee with thine own ,
+And make thee curse the harvest of that corn .
+
+Your Grace may starve perhaps , before that time .
+
+O ! let no words , but deeds , revenge this treason !
+
+What will you do , good grey-beard ? break a lance ,
+And run a tilt at death within a chair ?
+
+Foul fiend of France , and hag of all despite ,
+Encompass'd with thy lustful paramours !
+Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age
+And twit with cowardice a man half dead ?
+Damsel , I'll have a bout with you again ,
+Or else let Talbot perish with this shame .
+
+Are you so hot , sir ? Yet , Pucelle , hold thy peace ;
+If Talbot do but thunder , rain will follow .
+
+God speed the parliament ! who shall be the speaker ?
+
+Dare ye come forth and meet us in the field ?
+
+Belike your lordship takes us then for fools ,
+To try if that our own be ours or no .
+
+I speak not to that railing Hecate ,
+But unto thee , Alen on , and the rest ;
+Will ye , like soldiers , come and fight it out ?
+
+Signior , no .
+
+Signior , hang ! base muleters of France !
+Like peasant foot-boys do they keep the walls ,
+And dare not take up arms like gentlemen .
+
+Away , captains ! let's get us from the walls ;
+For Talbot means no-goodness , by his looks .
+God be wi' you , my lord ! we came but to tell you
+That we are here .
+
+
+And there will we be too , ere it be long ,
+Or else reproach be Talbot's greatest fame !
+Vow , Burgundy , by honour of thy house ,
+Prick'd on by public wrongs sustain'd in France ,
+Either to get the town again , or die ;
+And I , as sure as English Henry lives ,
+And as his father here was conqueror ,
+As sure as in this late-betrayed town
+Great C ur-de-lion's heart was buried ,
+So sure I swear to get the town or die .
+
+My vows are equal partners with thy vows .
+
+But , ere we go , regard this dying prince ,
+The valiant Duke of Bedford . Come , my lord ,
+We will bestow you in some better place ,
+Fitter for sickness and for crazy age .
+
+Lord Talbot , do not so dishonour me :
+Here will I sit before the walls of Roan ,
+And will be partner of your weal or woe .
+
+Courageous Bedford , let us now persuade you .
+
+Not to be gone from hence ; for once I read ,
+That stout Pendragon in his litter , sick ,
+Came to the field and vanquished his foes :
+Methinks I should revive the soldiers' hearts ,
+Because I ever found them as myself .
+
+Undaunted spirit in a dying breast !
+Then be it so : heavens keep old Bedford safe !
+And now no more ado , brave Burgundy ,
+But gather we our forces out of hand ,
+And set upon our boasting enemy .
+
+Whither away , Sir John Fastolfe , in such haste ?
+
+Whither away ! to save myself by flight :
+We are like to have the overthrow again .
+
+What ! will you fly , and leave Lord Talbot ?
+
+Ay ,
+All the Talbots in the world , to save my life .
+
+
+Cowardly knight ! ill fortune follow thee !
+
+
+Now , quiet soul , depart when Heaven please ,
+For I have seen our enemies' overthrow .
+What is the trust or strength of foolish man ?
+They , that of late were daring with their scoffs
+Are glad and fain by flight to save themselves .
+
+Lost , and recover'd in a day again !
+This is a double honour , Burgundy :
+Yet heavens have glory for this victory !
+
+Warlike and martial Talbot , Burgundy
+Enshrines thee in his heart , and there erects
+Thy noble deeds as valour's monument .
+
+Thanks , gentle duke . But where is Pucelle now ?
+I think her old familiar is asleep .
+Now where's the Bastard's braves , and Charles his gleeks ?
+What ! all amort ? Roan hangs her head for grief ,
+That such a valiant company are fled .
+Now will we take some order in the town ,
+Placing therein some expert officers ,
+And then depart to Paris to the king ;
+For there young Henry with his nobles lie .
+
+What wills Lord Talbot pleaseth Burgundy .
+
+But yet , before we go , let's not forget
+The noble Duke of Bedford late deceas'd ,
+But see his exequies fulfill'd in Roan :
+A braver soldier never couched lance ,
+A gentler heart did never sway in court ;
+But kings and mightiest potentates must die ,
+For that's the end of human misery .
+
+
+Dismay not , princes , at this accident ,
+Nor grieve that Roan is so recovered :
+Care is no cure , but rather corrosive ,
+For things that are not to be remedied .
+Let frantic Talbot triumph for a while ,
+And like a peacock sweep along his tail ;
+We'll pull his plumes and take away his train ,
+If Dauphin and the rest will be but rul'd .
+
+We have been guided by thee hitherto ,
+And of thy cunning had no diffidence :
+One sudden foil shall never breed distrust .
+
+Search out thy wit for secret policies ,
+And we will make thee famous through the world .
+
+We'll set thy statue in some holy place
+And have thee reverenc'd like a blessed saint :
+Employ thee , then , sweet virgin , for our good .
+
+Then thus it must be ; this doth Joan devise :
+By fair persuasions , mix'd with sugar'd words ,
+We will entice the Duke of Burgundy
+To leave the Talbot and to follow us .
+
+Ay , marry , sweeting , if we could do that ,
+France were no place for Henry's warriors ;
+Nor should that nation boast it so with us ,
+But be extirped from our provinces .
+
+For ever should they be expuls'd from France ,
+And not have title of an earldom here .
+
+Your honours shall perceive how I will work
+To bring this matter to the wished end .
+
+Hark ! by the sound of drum you may perceive
+Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward .
+
+
+There goes the Talbot , with his colours spread ,
+And all the troops of English after him .
+
+Now in the rearward comes the duke and his :
+Fortune in favour makes him lag behind .
+Summon a parley ; we will talk with him .
+
+A parley with the Duke of Burgundy !
+
+Who craves a parley with the Burgundy ?
+
+The princely Charles of France , thy countryman .
+
+What sayst thou , Charles ? for I am marching hence .
+
+Speak , Pucelle , and enchant him with thy words .
+
+Brave Burgundy , undoubted hope of France !
+Stay , let thy humble handmaid speak to thee .
+
+Speak on ; but be not over-tedious .
+
+Look on thy country , look on fertile France ,
+And see the cities and the towns defac'd
+By wasting ruin of the cruel foe .
+As looks the mother on her lowly babe
+When death doth close his tender dying eyes ,
+See , see the pining malady of France ;
+Behold the wounds , the most unnatural wounds ,
+Which thou thyself hast giv'n her woeful breast .
+O ! turn thy edged sword another way ;
+Strike those that hurt , and hurt not those that help .
+One drop of blood drawn from thy country's bosom ,
+Should grieve thee more than streams of foreign gore :
+Return thee therefore , with a flood of tears ,
+And wash away thy country's stained spots .
+
+Either she hath bewitch'd me with her words ,
+Or nature makes me suddenly relent .
+
+Besides , all French and France exclaims on thee ,
+Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny .
+Who join'st thou with but with a lordly nation
+That will not trust thee but for profit's sake ?
+When Talbot hath set footing once in France ,
+And fashion'd thee that instrument of ill ,
+Who then but English Henry will be lord ,
+And thou be thrust out like a fugitive ?
+Call we to mind , and mark but this for proof ,
+Was not the Duke of Orleans thy foe ,
+And was he not in England prisoner ?
+But when they heard he was thine enemy ,
+They set him free , without his ransom paid ,
+In spite of Burgundy and all his friends .
+See then , thou fight'st against thy countrymen !
+And join'st with them will be thy slaughtermen .
+Come , come , return ; return thou wand'ring lord ;
+Charles and the rest will take thee in their arms .
+
+I am vanquished ; these haughty words of hers
+Have batter'd me like roaring cannon-shot ,
+And made me almost yield upon my knees .
+Forgive me , country , and sweet countrymen !
+And , lords , accept this hearty kind embrace :
+My forces and my power of men are yours .
+So , farewell , Talbot ; I'll no longer trust thee .
+
+Done like a Frenchman : turn , and turn again !
+
+Welcome , brave duke ! thy friendship makes us fresh .
+
+And doth beget new courage in our breasts .
+
+Pucelle hath bravely play'd her part in this ,
+And doth deserve a coronet of gold .
+
+Now let us on , my lords , and join our powers :
+And seek how we may prejudice the foe .
+
+
+My gracious prince , and honourable peers ,
+Hearing of your arrival in this realm ,
+I have a while giv'n truce unto my wars ,
+To do my duty to my sovereign :
+In sign whereof , this arm ,that hath reclaim'd
+To your obedience fifty fortresses ,
+Twelve cities , and seven walled towns of strength ,
+Beside five hundred prisoners of esteem ,
+Lets fall his sword before your highness' feet ,
+
+And with submissive loyalty of heart ,
+Ascribes the glory of his conquest got ,
+First to my God , and next unto your Grace .
+
+Is this the Lord Talbot , uncle Gloucester ,
+That hath so long been resident in France ?
+
+Yes , if it please your majesty , my liege .
+
+Welcome , brave captain and victorious lord !
+When I was young ,as yet I am not old ,
+I do remember how my father said ,
+A stouter champion never handled sword .
+Long since we were resolved of your truth ,
+Your faithful service and your toil in war ;
+Yet never have you tasted our reward ,
+Or been reguerdon'd with so much as thanks ,
+Because till now we never saw your face :
+Therefore , stand up ; and for these good deserts ,
+We here create you Earl of Shrewsbury ;
+And in our coronation take your place .
+
+
+Now , sir , to you , that were so hot at sea ,
+Disgracing of these colours that I wear
+In honour of my noble Lord of York ,
+Dar'st thou maintain the former words thou spak'st ?
+
+Yes , sir : as well as you dare patronage
+The envious barking of your saucy tongue
+Against my lord the Duke of Somerset .
+
+Sirrah , thy lord I honour as he is .
+
+Why , what is he ? as good a man as York .
+
+Hark ye ; not so : in witness , take ye that .
+
+
+Villain , thou know'st the law of arms is such
+That , whoso draws a sword , 'tis present death ,
+Or else this blow should broach thy dearest blood .
+But I'll unto his majesty , and crave
+I may have liberty to venge this wrong ;
+When thou shalt see I'll meet thee to thy cost .
+
+Well , miscreant , I'll be there as soon as you ;
+And , after , meet you sooner than you would .
+
+
+Lord bishop , set the crown upon his head .
+
+God save King Henry , of that name the sixth .
+
+Now , Governor of Paris , take your oath ,
+
+That you elect no other king but him ,
+Esteem none friends but such as are his friends ,
+And none your foes but such as shall pretend
+Malicious practices against his state :
+This shall ye do , so help you righteous God !
+
+My gracious sovereign ; as I rode from Calais ,
+To haste unto your coronation ,
+A letter was deliver'd to my hands ,
+Writ to your Grace from the Duke of Burgundy .
+
+Shame to the Duke of Burgundy and thee !
+I vow'd , base knight , when I did meet thee next ,
+To tear the garter from thy craven's leg ;
+
+Which I have done , because unworthily
+Thou wast installed in that high degree .
+Pardon me , princely Henry , and the rest :
+This dastard , at the battle of Patay ,
+When but in all I was six thousand strong ,
+And that the French were almost ten to one ,
+Before we met or that a stroke was given ,
+Like to a trusty squire did run away :
+In which assault we lost twelve hundred men ;
+Myself , and divers gentlemen beside ,
+Were there surpris'd and taken prisoners .
+Then judge , great lords , if I have done amiss ;
+Or whether that such cowards ought to wear
+This ornament of knighthood , yea , or no ?
+
+To say the truth , this fact was infamous
+And ill beseeming any common man ,
+Much more a knight , a captain and a leader .
+
+When first this order was ordain'd , my lords ,
+Knights of the garter were of noble birth ,
+Valiant and virtuous , full of haughty courage ,
+Such as were grown to credit by the wars ;
+Not fearing death , nor shrinking for distress ,
+But always resolute in most extremes .
+He then that is not furnish'd in this sort
+Doth but usurp the sacred name of knight ,
+Profaning this most honourable order ;
+And should if I were worthy to be judge
+Be quite degraded , like a hedge-born swain
+That doth presume to boast of gentle blood .
+
+Stain to thy countrymen ! thou hear'st thy doom .
+Be packing therefore , thou that wast a knight ;
+Henceforth we banish thee on pain of death .
+
+And now , my Lord Protector , view the letter
+Sent from our uncle Duke of Burgundy .
+
+What means his Grace , that he hath chang'd his style ?
+No more , but plain and bluntly , To the King !
+Hath he forgot he is his sovereign ?
+Or doth this churlish superscription
+Pretend some alteration in good will ?
+What's here ? I have , upon especial cause ,
+Mov'd with compassion of my country's wrack ,
+Together with the pitiful complaints
+Of such as your oppression feeds upon ,
+Forsaken your pernicious faction ,
+And join'd with Charles , the rightful King of France .
+O , monstrous treachery ! Can this be so ,
+That in alliance , amity , and oaths ,
+There should be found such false dissembling guile ?
+
+What ! doth my uncle Burgundy revolt ?
+
+He doth , my lord , and is become your foe .
+
+Is that the worst this letter doth contain ?
+
+It is the worst , and all , my lord , he writes .
+
+Why then , Lord Talbot there shall talk with him ,
+And give him chastisement for this abuse .
+How say you , my lord ? are you not content ?
+
+Content , my liege ! Yes : but that I am prevented ,
+I should have begg'd I might have been employ'd .
+
+Then gather strength , and march unto him straight :
+Let him perceive how ill we brook his treason ,
+And what offence it is to flout his friends .
+
+I go , my lord ; in heart desiring still
+You may behold confusion of your foes .
+
+Grant me the combat , gracious sovereign !
+
+And me , my lord ; grant me the combat too !
+
+This is my servant : hear him , noble prince !
+
+And this is mine : sweet Henry , favour him !
+
+Be patient , lords ; and give them leave to speak .
+Say , gentlemen , what makes you thus exclaim ?
+And wherefore crave you combat ? or with whom ?
+
+With him , my lord ; for he hath done me wrong .
+
+And I with him ; for he hath done me wrong .
+
+What is that wrong whereof you both complain ?
+First let me know , and then I'll answer you .
+
+Crossing the sea from England into France ,
+This fellow here , with envious carping tongue ,
+Upbraided me about the rose I wear ;
+Saying , the sanguine colour of the leaves
+Did represent my master's blushing cheeks ,
+When stubbornly he did repugn the truth
+About a certain question in the law
+Argu'd betwixt the Duke of York and him ;
+With other vile and ignominious terms :
+In confutation of which rude reproach ,
+And in defence of my lord's worthiness ,
+I crave the benefit of law of arms .
+
+And that is my petition , noble lord :
+For though he seem with forged quaint conceit ,
+To set a gloss upon his bold intent ,
+Yet know , my lord , I was provok'd by him ;
+And he first took exceptions at this badge ,
+Pronouncing , that the paleness of this flower
+Bewray'd the faintness of my master's heart .
+
+Will not this malice , Somerset , be left ?
+
+Your private grudge , my Lord of York , will out ,
+Though ne'er so cunningly you smother it .
+
+Good Lord ! what madness rules in brain-sick men ,
+When , for so slight and frivolous a cause ,
+Such factious emulations shall arise !
+Good cousins both , of York and Somerset ,
+Quiet yourselves , I pray , and be at peace .
+
+Let this dissension first be tried by fight ,
+And then your highness shall command a peace .
+
+The quarrel toucheth none but us alone ;
+Betwixt ourselves let us decide it , then .
+
+There is my pledge ; accept it , Somerset .
+
+Nay , let it rest where it began at first .
+
+Confirm it so , mine honourable lord .
+
+Confirm it so ! Confounded be your strife !
+And perish ye , with your audacious prate !
+Presumptuous vassals ! are you not asham'd ,
+With this immodest clamorous outrage
+To trouble and disturb the king and us ?
+And you , my lords , methinks you do not well
+To bear with their perverse objections ;
+Much less to take occasion from their mouths
+To raise a mutiny betwixt yourselves :
+Let me persuade you take a better course .
+
+It grieves his highness : good my lords , be friends .
+
+Come hither , you that would be combatants .
+Henceforth I charge you , as you love our favour ,
+Quite to forget this quarrel and the cause .
+And you , my lords , remember where we are ;
+In France , amongst a fickle wav'ring nation .
+If they perceive dissension in our looks ,
+And that within ourselves we disagree ,
+How will their grudging stomachs be provok'd
+To wilful disobedience , and rebel !
+Beside , what infamy will there arise ,
+When foreign princes shall be certified
+That for a toy , a thing of no regard ,
+King Henry's peers and chief nobility
+Destroy'd themselves , and lost the realm of France !
+O ! think upon the conquest of my father ,
+My tender years , and let us not forego
+That for a trifle that was bought with blood !
+Let me be umpire in this doubtful strife .
+I see no reason , if I wear this rose ,
+
+That any one should therefore be suspicious
+I more incline to Somerset than York :
+Both are my kinsmen , and I love them both .
+As well they may upbraid me with my crown ,
+Because , forsooth , the King of Scots is crown'd .
+But your discretions better can persuade
+Than I am able to instruct or teach :
+And therefore , as we hither came in peace ,
+So let us still continue peace and love .
+Cousin of York , we institute your Grace
+To be our regent in these parts of France :
+And , good my Lord of Somerset , unite
+Your troops of horsemen with his bands of foot ;
+And like true subjects , sons of your progenitors ,
+Go cheerfully together and digest
+Your angry choler on your enemies .
+Ourself , my Lord Protector , and the rest ,
+After some respite will return to Calais ;
+From thence to England ; where I hope ere long
+To be presented by your victories ,
+With Charles , Alen on , and that traitorous rout .
+
+
+My Lord of York , I promise you , the king Prettily , methought , did play the orator .
+
+And so he did ; but yet I like it not ,
+In that he wears the badge of Somerset .
+
+Tush ! that was but his fancy , blame him not ;
+I dare presume , sweet prince , he thought no harm .
+
+An if I wist he did ,But let it rest ;
+Other affairs must now be managed .
+
+
+Well didst thou , Richard , to suppress thy voice ;
+For had the passions of thy heart burst out ,
+I fear we should have seen decipher'd there
+More rancorous spite , more furious raging broils ,
+Than yet can be imagin'd or suppos'd .
+But howsoe'er , no simple man that sees
+This jarring discord of nobility ,
+This shouldering of each other in the court ,
+This factious bandying of their favourites ,
+But that it doth presage some ill event .
+'Tis much when sceptres are in children's hands ;
+But more , when envy breeds unkind division :
+There comes the ruin , there begins confusion .
+
+
+Go to the gates of Bourdeaux , trumpeter ;
+Summon their general unto the wall .
+
+
+English John Talbot , captains , calls you forth ,
+Servant in arms to Harry King of England ;
+And thus he would : Open your city gates ,
+Be humble to us , call my sov'reign yours ,
+And do him homage as obedient subjects ,
+And I'll withdraw me and my bloody power ;
+But , if you frown upon this proffer'd peace ,
+You tempt the fury of my three attendants ,
+Lean famine , quartering steel , and climbing fire ;
+Who in a moment even with the earth
+Shall lay your stately and air-braving towers ,
+
+If you forsake the offer of their love .
+
+Thou ominous and fearful owl of death ,
+Our nation's terror and their bloody scourge !
+The period of thy tyranny approacheth .
+On us thou canst not enter but by death ;
+For , I protest , we are well fortified ,
+And strong enough to issue out and fight :
+If thou retire , the Dauphin , well appointed ,
+Stands with the snares of war to tangle thee :
+On either hand thee there are squadrons pitch'd ,
+To wall thee from the liberty of flight ;
+And no way canst thou turn thee for redress
+But death doth front thee with apparent spoil ,
+And pale destruction meets thee in the face .
+Ten thousand French have ta'en the sacrament ,
+To rive their dangerous artillery
+Upon no Christian soul but English Talbot .
+Lo ! there thou stand'st , a breathing valiant man ,
+Of an invincible unconquer'd spirit :
+This is the latest glory of thy praise ,
+That I , thy enemy , 'due thee withal ;
+For ere the glass , that now begins to run ,
+Finish the process of his sandy hour ,
+These eyes , that see thee now well coloured ,
+Shall see thee wither'd , bloody , pale , and dead .
+
+Hark ! hark ! the Dauphin's drum , a warning bell ,
+Sings heavy music to thy timorous soul ;
+And mine shall ring thy dire departure out .
+
+
+He fables not ; I hear the enemy :
+Out , some light horsemen , and peruse their wings .
+O ! negligent and heedless discipline ;
+How are we park'd and bounded in a pale ,
+A little herd of England's timorous deer ,
+Maz'd with a yelping kennel of French curs !
+If we be English deer , be then , in blood ;
+Not rascal-like , to fall down with a pinch ,
+But rather moody-mad and desperate stags ,
+Turn on the bloody hounds with heads of steel ,
+And make the cowards stand aloof at bay :
+Sell every man his life as dear as mine ,
+And they shall find dear deer of us , my friends .
+God and Saint George , Talbot and England's right ,
+Prosper our colours in this dangerous fight !
+
+
+Are not the speedy scouts return'd again ,
+That dogg'd the mighty army of the Dauphin ?
+
+They are return'd , my lord ; and give it out ,
+That he is march'd to Bourdeaux with his power ,
+To fight with Talbot . As he march'd along ,
+By your espials were discovered
+Two mightier troops than that the Dauphin led ,
+Which join'd with him and made their march for Bourdeaux .
+
+A plague upon that villain Somerset ,
+That thus delays my promised supply
+Of horsemen that were levied for this siege !
+Renowned Talbot doth expect my aid ,
+And I am louted by a traitor villain ,
+And cannot help the noble chevalier .
+God comfort him in this necessity !
+If he miscarry , farewell wars in France .
+
+
+Thou princely leader of our English strength ,
+Never so needful on the earth of France ,
+Spur to the rescue of the noble Talbot ,
+Who now is girdled with a waist of iron
+And hemm'd about with grim destruction .
+To Bourdeaux , war-like duke ! To Bourdeaux , York !
+Else , farewell Talbot , France , and England's honour .
+
+O God ! that Somerset , who in proud heart
+Doth stop my cornets , were in Talbot's place !
+So should we save a valiant gentleman
+By forfeiting a traitor and a coward .
+Mad ire and wrathful fury , make me weep
+That thus we die , while remiss traitors sleep .
+
+O ! send some succour to the distress'd lord .
+
+He dies , we lose ; I break my war-like word ;
+We mourn , France smiles ; we lose , they daily get ;
+All 'long of this vile traitor Somerset .
+
+Then God take mercy on brave Talbot's soul ;
+And on his son young John , whom two hours since
+I met in travel toward his war-like father .
+This seven years did not Talbot see his son ;
+And now they meet where both their lives are done .
+
+Alas ! what joy shall noble Talbot have ,
+To bid his young son welcome to his grave ?
+Away ! vexation almost stops my breath
+That sunder'd friends greet in the hour of death .
+Lucy , farewell : no more my fortune can ,
+But curse the cause I cannot aid the man .
+Maine , Blois , Poictiers , and Tours , are won away ,
+'Long all of Somerset and his delay .
+
+
+Thus , while the vulture of sedition
+Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders ,
+Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss
+The conquest of our scarce cold conqueror ,
+That ever living man of memory ,
+Henry the Fifth : Whiles they each other cross ,
+Lives , honours , lands , and all hurry to loss .
+
+
+It is too late ; I cannot send them now :
+This expedition was by York and Talbot
+Too rashly plotted : all our general force
+Might with a sally of the very town
+Be buckled with : the over-daring Talbot
+Hath sullied all his gloss of former honour
+By this unheedful , desperate , wild adventure :
+York set him on to fight and die in shame ,
+That , Talbot dead , great York might bear the name .
+
+Here is Sir William Lucy , who with me
+Set from our o'ermatch'd forces forth for aid .
+
+
+How now , Sir William ! whither were you sent ?
+
+Whither , my lord ? from bought and sold Lord Talbot ;
+Who , ring'd about with bold adversity ,
+Cries out for noble York and Somerset ,
+To beat assailing death from his weak legions :
+And whiles the honourable captain there
+Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied limbs ,
+And , in advantage lingering , looks for rescue ,
+You , his false hopes , the trust of England's honour ,
+Keep off aloof with worthless emulation .
+Let not your private discord keep away
+The levied succours that should lend him aid ,
+While he , renowned noble gentleman ,
+Yields up his life unto a world of odds :
+Orleans the Bastard , Charles , Burgundy ,
+Alen on , Reignier , compass him about ,
+And Talbot perisheth by your default .
+
+York set him on ; York should have sent him aid .
+
+And York as fast upon your Grace exclaims ;
+Swearing that you withhold his levied host
+Collected for this expedition .
+
+York lies ; he might have sent and had the horse :
+I owe him little duty , and less love ;
+And take foul scorn to fawn on him by sending .
+
+The fraud of England , not the force of France ,
+Hath now entrapp'd the noble-minded Talbot .
+Never to England shall he bear his life ,
+But dies , betray'd to fortune by your strife .
+
+Come , go ; I will dispatch the horsemen straight :
+Within six hours they will be at his aid .
+
+Too late comes rescue : he is ta'en or slain ,
+For fly he could not if he would have fled ;
+And fly would Talbot never , though he might .
+
+If he be dead , brave Talbot , then adieu !
+
+His fame lives in the world , his shame in you .
+
+
+O young John Talbot ! I did send for thee
+To tutor thee in stratagems of war ,
+That Talbot's name might be in thee reviv'd
+When sapless age , and weak unable limbs
+Should bring thy father to his drooping chair .
+But ,O malignant and ill-boding stars !
+Now thou art come unto a feast of death ,
+A terrible and unavoided danger :
+Therefore , dear boy , mount on my swiftest horse ,
+And I'll direct thee how thou shalt escape
+By sudden flight : come , dally not , be gone .
+
+Is my name Talbot ? and am I your son ?
+And shall I fly ? O ! if you love my mother ,
+Dishonour not her honourable name ,
+To make a bastard and a slave of me :
+The world will say he is not Talbot's blood
+That basely fled when noble Talbot stood .
+
+Fly , to revenge my death , if I be slain .
+
+He that flies so will ne'er return again .
+
+If we both stay , we both are sure to die .
+
+Then let me stay ; and , father , do you fly :
+Your loss is great , so your regard should be ;
+My worth unknown , no loss is known in me .
+Upon my death the French can little boast ;
+In yours they will , in you all hopes are lost .
+Flight cannot stain the honour you have won ;
+But mine it will that no exploit have done :
+You fled for vantage everyone will swear ;
+But if I bow , they'll say it was for fear .
+There is no hope that ever I will stay
+If the first hour I shrink and run away .
+Here , on my knee , I beg mortality ,
+Rather than life preserv'd with infamy .
+
+Shall all thy mother's hopes lie in one tomb ?
+
+Ay , rather than I'll shame my mother's womb .
+
+Upon my blessing I command thee go .
+
+To fight I will , but not to fly the foe .
+
+Part of thy father may be sav'd in thee .
+
+No part of him but will be shame in me .
+
+Thou never hadst renown , nor canst not lose it .
+
+Yes , your renowned name : shall flight abuse it ?
+
+Thy father's charge shall clear thee from that stain .
+
+You cannot witness for me , being slain .
+If death be so apparent , then both fly .
+
+And leave my followers here to fight and die ?
+My age was never tainted with such shame .
+
+And shall my youth be guilty of such blame ?
+No more can I be sever'd from your side
+Than can yourself yourself in twain divide .
+Stay , go , do what you will , the like do I ;
+For live I will not if my father die .
+
+Then here I take my leave of thee , fair son ,
+Born to eclipse thy life this afternoon .
+Come , side by side together live and die ,
+And soul with soul from France to heaven fly .
+
+Saint George and victory ! fight , soldiers , fight !
+The regent hath with Talbot broke his word ,
+And left us to the rage of France his sword .
+Where is John Talbot ? Pause , and take thy breath :
+I gave thee life and rescu'd thee from death .
+
+O ! twice my father , twice am I thy son :
+The life thou gav'st me first was lost and done ,
+Till with thy war-like sword , despite of fate ,
+To my determin'd time thou gav'st new date .
+
+When from the Dauphin's crest thy sword struck fire ,
+It warm'd thy father's heart with proud desire
+Of bold-fac'd victory . Then leaden age ,
+Quicken'd with youthful spleen and war-like rage ,
+Beat down Alen on , Orleans , Burgundy ,
+And from the pride of Gallia rescu'd thee .
+The ireful bastard Orleans ,that drew blood
+From thee , my boy , and had the maidenhood
+Of thy first fight ,I soon encountered
+And , interchanging blows , I quickly shed
+Some of his bastard blood ; and , in disgrace ,
+Bespoke him thus , 'Contaminated , base ,
+And misbegotten blood I spill of thine ,
+Mean and right poor , for that pure blood of mine
+Which thou didst force from Talbot , my brave boy :'
+Here , purposing the Bastard to destroy ,
+Came in strong rescue . Speak , thy father's care ,
+Art thou not weary , John ? How dost thou fare ?
+Wilt thou yet leave the battle , boy , and fly ,
+Now thou art seal'd the son of chivalry ?
+Fly , to revenge my death when I am dead ;
+The help of one stands me in little stead .
+O ! too much folly is it , well I wot ,
+To hazard all our lives in one small boat .
+If I to-day die not with Frenchmen's rage ,
+To-morrow I shall die with mickle age :
+By me they nothing gain an if I stay ;
+'Tis but the short'ning of my life one day .
+In thee thy mother dies , our household's name ,
+My death's revenge , thy youth , and England's fame .
+All these and more we hazard by thy stay ;
+All these are sav'd if thou wilt fly away .
+
+The sword of Orleans hath not made me smart ;
+These words of yours draw life-blood from my heart .
+On that advantage , bought with such a shame ,
+To save a paltry life and slay bright fame ,
+Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly ,
+The coward horse that bears me fall and die !
+And like me to the peasant boys of France ,
+To be shame's scorn and subject of mischance !
+Surely , by all the glory you have won ,
+An if I fly , I am not Talbot's son :
+Then talk no more of flight , it is no boot ;
+If son to Talbot , die at Talbot's foot .
+
+Then follow thou thy desperate sire of Crete ,
+Thou Icarus . Thy life to me is sweet :
+If thou wilt fight , fight by thy father's side ,
+And , commendable prov'd , let's die in pride .
+
+
+Where is my other life ?mine own is gone ;
+O ! where's young Talbot ? where is valiant John ?
+Triumphant death , smear'd with captivity ,
+Young Talbot's valour makes me smile at thee .
+When he perceiv'd me shrink and on my knee ,
+His bloody sword he brandish'd over me ,
+And like a hungry lion did commence
+Rough deeds of rage and stern impatience ;
+But when my angry guardant stood alone ,
+Tendering my ruin and assail'd of none ,
+Dizzy-ey'd fury and great rage of heart
+Suddenly made him from my side to start
+Into the clust'ring battle of the French ;
+And in that sea of blood my boy did drench
+His overmounting spirit ; and there died
+My Icarus , my blossom , in his pride .
+
+
+O , my dear lord ! lo , where your son is borne !
+
+Thou antick , death , which laugh'st us here to scorn ,
+Anon , from thy insulting tyranny ,
+Coupled in bonds of perpetuity ,
+Two Talbots , winged through the lither sky ,
+In thy despite shall 'scape mortality .
+O ! thou , whose wounds become hard-favour'd death ,
+Speak to thy father ere thou yield thy breath ;
+Brave death by speaking whe'r he will or no ;
+Imagine him a Frenchman and thy foe .
+Poor boy ! he smiles , methinks , as who should say ,
+Had death been French , then death had died to-day .
+Come , come , and lay him in his father's arms :
+My spirit can no longer bear these harms .
+Soldiers , adieu ! I have what I would have ,
+Now my old arms are young John Talbot's grave .
+
+Had York and Somerset brought rescue in
+We should have found a bloody day of this .
+
+How the young whelp of Talbot's , raging-wood ,
+Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen's blood !
+
+Once I encounter'd him , and thus I said :
+'Thou maiden youth , be vanquish'd by a maid :'
+But with a proud majestical high scorn ,
+He answer'd thus : 'Young Talbot was not born
+To be the pillage of a giglot wench .'
+So , rushing in the bowels of the French ,
+He left me proudly , as unworthy fight .
+
+Doubtless he would have made a noble knight ;
+See , where he lies inhearsed in the arms
+Of the most bloody nurser of his harms .
+
+Hew them to pieces , hack their bones asunder ,
+Whose life was England's glory , Gallia's wonder .
+
+O , no ! forbear ; for that which we have fled
+During the life , let us not wrong it dead .
+
+
+Herald , conduct me to the Dauphin's tent ,
+To know who hath obtain'd the glory of the day .
+
+On what submissive message art thou sent ?
+
+Submission , Dauphin ! 'tis a mere French word ;
+We English warriors wot not what it means .
+I come to know what prisoners thou hast ta'en ,
+And to survey the bodies of the dead .
+
+For prisoners ask'st thou ? hell our prison is .
+But tell me whom thou seek'st .
+
+Where is the great Alcides of the field ,
+Valiant Lord Talbot , Earl of Shrewsbury ?
+Created , for his rare success in arms ,
+Great Earl of Washford , Waterford , and Valence ;
+Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Urchinfield ,
+Lord Strange of Blackmere , Lord Vordun of Alton ,
+Lord Cromwell of Wingfield , Lord Furnival of Sheffield ,
+The thrice-victorious Lord of Falconbridge ;
+Knight of the noble order of Saint George ,
+Worthy Saint Michael and the Golden Fleece ;
+Great mareschal to Henry the Sixth
+Of all his wars within the realm of France ?
+
+Here is a silly stately style indeed !
+The Turk , that two-and-fifty kingdoms hath ,
+Writes not so tedious a style as this .
+Him that thou magnifiest with all these titles ,
+Stinking and fly-blown lies here at our feet .
+
+Is Talbot slain , the Frenchmen's only scourge ,
+Your kingdom's terror and black Nemesis ?
+O ! were mine eye-balls into bullets turn'd ,
+That I in rage might shoot them at your faces !
+O ! that I could but call these dead to life !
+It were enough to fright the realm of France .
+Were but his picture left among you here
+It would amaze the proudest of you all .
+Give me their bodies , that I may bear them hence ,
+And give them burial as beseems their worth .
+
+I think this upstart is old Talbot's ghost ,
+He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit .
+For God's sake , let him have 'em ; to keep them here
+They would but stink and putrefy the air .
+
+Go , take their bodies hence .
+
+I'll bear them hence :
+But from their ashes shall be rear'd
+A ph nix that shall make all France afeard .
+
+So we be rid of them , do with 'em what thou wilt .
+And now to Paris , in this conquering vein :
+All will be ours now bloody Talbot's slain .
+
+Have you perus'd the letters from the pope ,
+The emperor , and the Earl of Armagnac ?
+
+I have , my lord ; and their intent is this :
+They humbly sue unto your excellence
+To have a godly peace concluded of
+Between the realms of England and of France .
+
+How doth your Grace affect their motion ?
+
+Well , my good lord ; and as the only means
+To stop effusion of our Christian blood ,
+And stablish quietness on every side .
+
+Ay , marry , uncle ; for I always thought
+It was both impious and unnatural
+That such immanity and bloody strife
+Should reign among professors of one faith .
+
+Beside , my lord , the sooner to effect
+And surer bind this knot of amity ,
+The Earl of Armagnac , near knit to Charles ,
+A man of great authority in France ,
+Proffers his only daughter to your Grace
+In marriage , with a large and sumptuous dowry .
+
+Marriage , uncle ! alas ! my years are young ,
+And fitter is my study and my books
+Than wanton dalliance with a paramour .
+Yet call the ambassadors ; and , as you please ,
+So let them have their answers every one :
+I shall be well content with any choice
+Tends to God's glory and my country's weal .
+
+What ! is my Lord of Winchester install'd ,
+And call'd unto a cardinal's degree ?
+Then , I perceive that will be verified
+Henry the Fifth did sometime prophesy ,
+'If once he come to be a cardinal ,
+He'll make his cap co-equal with the crown .'
+
+My lords ambassadors , your several suits
+Have been consider'd , and debated on .
+Your purpose is both good and reasonable ;
+And therefore are we certainly resolv'd
+To draw conditions of a friendly peace ;
+Which by my Lord of Winchester we mean
+Shall be transported presently to France .
+
+And for the proffer of my lord your master ,
+I have inform'd his highness so at large ,
+As ,liking of the lady's virtuous gifts ,
+Her beauty , and the value of her dower ,
+He doth intend she shall be England's queen .
+
+In argument and proof of which contract ,
+Bear her this jewel , pledge of my affection .
+And so , my lord protector , see them guarded ,
+And safely brought to Dover ; where inshipp'd
+Commit them to the fortune of the sea .
+
+
+Stay , my lord legate : you shall first receive
+The sum of money which I promised
+Should be deliver'd to his holiness
+For clothing me in these grave ornaments .
+
+I will attend upon your lordship's leisure .
+
+Now Winchester will not submit , I trow ,
+Or be inferior to the proudest peer .
+Humphrey of Gloucester , thou shalt well perceive
+That neither in birth or for authority
+The bishop will be overborne by thee :
+I'll either make thee stoop and bend thy knee ,
+Or sack this country with a mutiny .
+
+
+These news , my lord , may cheer our drooping spirits ;
+'Tis said the stout Parisians do revolt ,
+And turn again unto the war-like French .
+
+Then , march to Paris , royal Charles of France ,
+And keep not back your powers in dalliance .
+
+Peace be amongst them if they turn to us ;
+Else , ruin combat with their palaces !
+
+
+Success unto our valiant general ,
+And happiness to his accomplices !
+
+What tidings send our scouts ? I prithee speak .
+
+The English army , that divided was
+Into two parties , is now conjoin'd in one ,
+And means to give you battle presently .
+
+Somewhat too sudden , sirs , the warning is :
+But we will presently provide for them .
+
+I trust the ghost of Talbot is not there :
+Now he is gone , my lord , you need not fear .
+
+Of all base passions , fear is most accurs'd .
+Command the conquest , Charles , it shall be thine ;
+Let Henry fret and all the world repine .
+
+Then on , my lords ; and France be fortunate !
+
+
+The regent conquers and the Frenchmen fly .
+Now help , ye charming spells and periapts ;
+And ye choice spirits that admonish me
+And give me signs of future accidents :
+
+You speedy helpers , that are substitutes
+Under the lordly monarch of the north ,
+Appear , and aid me in this enterprise !
+
+
+This speedy and quick appearance argues proof
+Of your accustom'd diligence to me .
+Now , ye familiar spirits , that are cull'd
+Out of the powerful regions under earth ,
+Help me this once , that France may get the field .
+
+O ! hold me not with silence over-long .
+Where I was wont to feed you with my blood ,
+I'll lop a member off and give it you ,
+In earnest of a further benefit ,
+So you do condescend to help me now .
+
+No hope to have redress ? My body shall
+Pay recompense , if you will grant my suit .
+
+Cannot my body nor blood-sacrifice
+Entreat you to your wonted furtherance ?
+Then take my soul ; my body , soul , and all ,
+Before that England give the French the foil .
+
+See ! they forsake me . Now the time is come ,
+That France must vail her lofty-plumed crest ,
+And let her head fall into England's lap .
+My ancient incantations are too weak ,
+And hell too strong for me to buckle with :
+Now , France , thy glory droopeth to the dust .
+
+Damsel of France , I think I have you fast :
+Unchain your spirits now with spelling charms ,
+And try if they can gain your liberty .
+A goodly prize , fit for the devil's grace !
+See how the ugly witch doth bend her brows ,
+As if with Circe she would change my shape .
+
+Chang'd to a worser shape thou canst not be .
+
+O ! Charles the Dauphin is a proper man ;
+No shape but his can please your dainty eye .
+
+A plaguing mischief light on Charles and thee !
+And may ye both be suddenly surpris'd
+By bloody hands , in sleeping on your beds !
+
+Fell banning hag , enchantress , hold thy tongue !
+
+I prithee , give me leave to curse a while .
+
+Curse , miscreant , when thou comest to the stake .
+
+Be what thou wilt , thou art my prisoner .
+
+O fairest beauty ! do not fear nor fly ,
+For I will touch thee but with reverent hands .
+I kiss these fingers for eternal peace ,
+And lay them gently on thy tender side .
+What art thou ? say , that I may honour thee .
+
+Margaret my name , and daughter to a king ,
+The King of Naples , whosoe'er thou art .
+
+An earl I am , and Suffolk am I call'd .
+Be not offended , nature's miracle ,
+Thou art allotted to be ta'en by me :
+So doth the swan her downy cygnets save ,
+Keeping them prisoners underneath her wings .
+Yet if this servile usage once offend ,
+Go and be free again , as Suffolk's friend .
+
+O stay ! I have no power to let her pass ;
+My hand would free her , but my heart says no .
+As plays the sun upon the glassy streams ,
+Twinkling another counterfeited beam ,
+So seems this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes .
+Fain would I woo her , yet I dare not speak :
+I'll call for pen and ink and write my mind .
+Fie , De la Pole ! disable not thyself ;
+Hast not a tongue ? is she not here thy prisoner ?
+Wilt thou be daunted at a woman's sight ?
+Ay ; beauty's princely majesty is such
+Confounds the tongue and makes the senses rough .
+
+Say , Earl of Suffolk ,if thy name be so ,
+What ransom must I pay before I pass ?
+For I perceive , I am thy prisoner .
+
+How canst thou tell she will deny thy suit ,
+Before thou make a trial of her love ?
+
+Why speak'st thou not ? what ransom must I pay ?
+
+She's beautiful and therefore to be woo'd ,
+She is a woman , therefore to be won .
+
+Wilt thou accept of ransom , yea or no ?
+
+Fond man ! remember that thou hast a wife ;
+Then how can Margaret be thy paramour ?
+
+I were best to leave him , for he will not hear .
+
+There all is marr'd ; there lies a cooling card .
+
+He talks at random ; sure , the man is mad .
+
+And yet a dispensation may be had .
+
+And yet I would that you would answer me .
+
+I'll win this Lady Margaret . For whom ?
+Why , for my king : tush ! that's a wooden thing .
+
+He talks of wood : it is some carpenter .
+
+Yet so my fancy may be satisfied ,
+And peace established between these realms .
+But there remains a scruple in that too ;
+For though her father be the King of Naples ,
+Duke of Anjou and Maine , yet is he poor ,
+And our nobility will scorn the match .
+
+Hear ye , captain ? Are you not at leisure ?
+
+It shall be so , disdain they ne'er so much :
+Henry is youthful and will quickly yield .
+Madam , I have a secret to reveal .
+
+What though I be enthrall'd ? he seems a knight ,
+And will not any way dishonour me .
+
+Lady , vouchsafe to listen what I say .
+
+Perhaps I shall be rescu'd by the French ;
+And then I need not crave his courtesy .
+
+Sweet madam , give me hearing in a cause
+
+Tush , women have been captivate ere now .
+
+Lady , wherefore talk you so ?
+
+I cry you mercy , 'tis but quid for quo .
+
+Say , gentle princess , would you not suppose
+Your bondage happy to be made a queen ?
+
+To be a queen in bondage is more vile
+Than is a slave in base servility ;
+For princes should be free .
+
+And so shall you ,
+If happy England's royal king be free .
+
+Why , what concerns his freedom unto me ?
+
+I'll undertake to make thee Henry's queen ,
+To put a golden sceptre in thy hand
+And set a precious crown upon thy head ,
+If thou wilt condescend to be my
+
+What ?
+
+His love .
+
+I am unworthy to be Henry's wife .
+
+No , gentle madam ; I unworthy am
+To woo so fair a dame to be his wife
+And have no portion in the choice myself .
+How say you , madam , are you so content ?
+
+An if my father please , I am content .
+
+Then call our captains and our colours forth !
+And , madam , at your father's castle walls
+We'll crave a parley , to confer with him .
+
+See , Reignier , see thy daughter prisoner !
+
+To whom ?
+
+To me .
+
+Suffolk , what remedy ?
+I am a soldier , and unapt to weep ,
+Or to exclaim on Fortune's fickleness .
+
+Yes , there is remedy enough ; my lord :
+Consent , and for thy honour , give consent ,
+Thy daughter shall be wedded to my king ,
+Whom I with pain have woo'd and won thereto ;
+And this her easy-held imprisonment
+Hath gain'd thy daughter princely liberty .
+
+Speaks Suffolk as he thinks ?
+
+Fair Margaret knows
+That Suffolk doth not flatter , face , or feign .
+
+Upon thy princely warrant , I descend
+To give thee answer of thy just demand .
+
+
+And here I will expect thy coming .
+
+
+Welcome , brave earl , into our territories :
+Command in Anjou what your honour pleases .
+
+Thanks , Reignier , happy for so sweet a child ,
+Fit to be made companion with a king .
+What answer makes your Grace unto my suit ?
+
+Since thou dost deign to woo her little worth
+To be the princely bride of such a lord ,
+Upon condition I may quietly
+Enjoy mine own , the county Maine and Anjou ,
+Free from oppression or the stroke of war ,
+My daughter shall be Henry's if he please .
+
+That is her ransom ; I deliver her ;
+And those two counties I will undertake
+Your Grace shall well and quietly enjoy .
+
+And I again , in Henry's royal name ,
+As deputy unto that gracious king ,
+Give thee her hand for sign of plighted faith .
+
+Reignier of France , I give thee kingly thanks ,
+Because this is in traffic of a king :
+
+
+And yet , methinks , I could be well content
+To be mine own attorney in this case .
+I'll over then , to England with this news ,
+And make this marriage to be solemniz'd .
+So farewell , Reignier : set this diamond safe ,
+In golden palaces , as it becomes .
+
+I do embrace thee , as I would embrace
+The Christian prince , King Henry , were he here .
+
+Farewell , my lord . Good wishes , praise , and prayers
+Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret .
+
+
+Farewell , sweet madam ! but hark you , Margaret ;
+No princely commendations to my king ?
+
+Such commendations as become a maid ,
+A virgin , and his servant , say to him .
+
+Words sweetly plac'd and modestly directed .
+But madam , I must trouble you again ,
+No loving token to his majesty ?
+
+Yes , my good lord ; a pure unspotted heart ,
+Never yet taint with love , I send the king .
+
+And this withal .
+
+
+That for thyself : I will not so presume ,
+To send such peevish tokens to a king .
+
+
+O ! wert thou for myself ! But Suffolk , stay ;
+Thou mayst not wander in that labyrinth ;
+There Minotaurs and ugly treasons lurk .
+Solicit Henry with her wondrous praise :
+Bethink thee on her virtues that surmount
+And natural graces that extinguish art ;
+Repeat their semblance often on the seas ,
+That , when thou com'st to kneel at Henry's feet ,
+Thou mayst bereave him of his wits with wonder .
+
+
+Bring forth that sorceress , condemn'd to burn .
+
+
+Ah , Joan ! this kills thy father's heart outright .
+Have I sought every country far and near ,
+And , now it is my chance to find thee out ,
+Must I behold thy timeless cruel death ?
+Ah , Joan ! sweet daughter Joan , I'll die with thee .
+
+Decrepit miser ! base ignoble wretch !
+I am descended of a gentler blood :
+Thou art no father nor no friend of mine .
+
+Out , out ! My lords , an please you , 'tis not so ;
+I did beget her all the parish knows :
+Her mother liveth yet , can testify
+She was the first fruit of my bachelorship .
+
+Graceless ! wilt thou deny thy parentage ?
+
+This argues what her kind of life hath been :
+Wicked and vile ; and so her death concludes .
+
+Fie , Joan , that thou wilt be so obstacle !
+God knows , thou art a collop of my flesh ;
+And for thy sake have I shed many a tear :
+Deny me not , I prithee , gentle Joan .
+
+Peasant , avaunt ! You have suborn'd this man ,
+Of purpose to obscure my noble birth .
+
+'Tis true , I gave a noble to the priest ,
+The morn that I was wedded to her mother .
+Kneel down and take my blessing , good my girl .
+Wilt thou not stoop ? Now cursed be the time
+Of thy nativity ! I would the milk
+Thy mother gave thee , when thou suck'dst her breast ,
+Had been a little ratsbane for thy sake !
+Or else , when thou didst keep my lambs a-field
+I wish some ravenous wolf had eaten thee !
+Dost thou deny thy father , cursed drab ?
+O ! burn her , burn her ! hanging is too good .
+
+
+Take her away ; for she hath liv'd too long ,
+To fill the world with vicious qualities .
+
+First , let me tell you whom you have condemn'd :
+Not me begotten of a shepherd swain ,
+But issu'd from the progeny of kings ;
+Virtuous and holy ; chosen from above ,
+By inspiration of celestial grace ,
+To work exceeding miracles on earth .
+I never had to do with wicked spirits :
+But you ,that are polluted with your lusts ,
+Stain'd with the guiltless blood of innocents ,
+Corrupt and tainted with a thousand vices ,
+Because you want the grace that others have ,
+You judge it straight a thing impossible
+To compass wonders but by help of devils .
+No misconceived ! Joan of Arc hath been
+A virgin from her tender infancy ,
+Chaste and immaculate in very thought ;
+Whose maiden blood , thus rigorously effus'd ,
+Will cry for vengeance at the gates of heaven .
+
+Ay , ay : away with her to execution !
+
+And hark ye , sirs ; because she is a maid ,
+Spare for no fagots , let there be enow :
+Place barrels of pitch upon the fatal stake ,
+That so her torture may be shortened .
+
+Will nothing turn your unrelenting hearts ?
+Then , Joan , discover thine infirmity ;
+That warranteth by law to be thy privilege .
+I am with child , ye bloody homicides :
+Murder not then the fruit within my womb ,
+Although ye hale me to a violent death .
+
+Now , heaven forefend ! the holy maid with child !
+
+The greatest miracle that e'er ye wrought !
+Is all your strict preciseness come to this ?
+
+She and the Dauphin have been juggling :
+I did imagine what would be her refuge .
+
+Well , go to ; we will have no bastards live ;
+Especially since Charles must father it .
+
+You are deceiv'd ; my child is none of his :
+It was Alen on that enjoy'd my love .
+
+Alen on ! that notorious Machiavel !
+It dies an if it had a thousand lives .
+
+O ! give me leave , I have deluded you :
+'Twas neither Charles , nor yet the duke I nam'd ,
+But Reignier , King of Naples , that prevail'd .
+
+A married man : that's most intolerable .
+
+Why , here's a girl ! I think she knows not well ,
+There were so many , whom she may accuse .
+
+It's sign she hath been liberal and free .
+
+And yet , forsooth , she is a virgin pure .
+Strumpet , thy words condemn thy brat and thee :
+Use no entreaty , for it is in vain .
+
+Then lead me hence ; with whom I leave my curse :
+May never glorious sun reflex his beams
+Upon the country where you make abode ;
+But darkness and the gloomy shade of death
+Environ you , till mischief and despair
+Drive you to break your necks or hang yourselves !
+
+
+Break thou in pieces and consume to ashes ,
+Thou foul accursed minister of hell !
+
+
+Lord regent , I do greet your excellence
+With letters of commission from the king .
+For know , my lords , the states of Christendom ,
+Mov'd with remorse of these outrageous broils ,
+Have earnestly implor'd a general peace
+Betwixt our nation and the aspiring French ;
+And here at hand the Dauphin , and his train ,
+Approacheth to confer about some matter .
+
+Is all our travail turn'd to this effect ?
+After the slaughter of so many peers ,
+So many captains , gentlemen , and soldiers ,
+That in this quarrel have been overthrown ,
+And sold their bodies for their country's benefit ,
+Shall we at last conclude effeminate peace ?
+Have we not lost most part of all the towns ,
+By treason , falsehood , and by treachery ,
+Our great progenitors had conquered ?
+O ! Warwick , Warwick ! I foresee with grief
+The utter loss of all the realm of France .
+
+Be patient , York : if we conclude a peace ,
+It shall be with such strict and severe covenants
+As little shall the Frenchmen gain thereby .
+
+
+Since , lords of England , it is thus agreed ,
+That peaceful truce shall be proclaim'd in France ,
+We come to be informed by yourselves
+What the conditions of that league must be .
+
+Speak , Winchester ; for boiling choler chokes
+The hollow passage of my poison'd voice ,
+By sight of these our baleful enemies .
+
+Charles , and the rest , it is enacted thus :
+That , in regard King Henry gives consent ,
+Of mere compassion and of lenity ,
+To ease your country of distressful war ,
+And suffer you to breathe in fruitful peace ,
+You shall become true liegemen to his crown :
+And , Charles , upon-condition thou wilt swear
+To pay him tribute , and submit thyself ,
+Thou shalt be plac'd as viceroy under him ,
+And still enjoy thy regal dignity .
+
+Must he be then , as shadow of himself ?
+Adorn his temples with a coronet ,
+And yet , in substance and authority ,
+Retain but privilege of a private man ?
+This proffer is absurd and reasonless .
+
+'Tis known already that I am possess'd
+With more than half the Gallian territories ,
+And therein reverenc'd for their lawful king :
+Shall I , for lucre of the rest unvanquish'd ,
+Detract so much from that prerogative
+As to be call'd but viceroy of the whole ?
+No , lord ambassador ; I'll rather keep
+That which I have than , coveting for more ,
+Be cast from possibility of all .
+
+Insulting Charles ! hast thou by secret means
+Us'd intercession to obtain a league ,
+And now the matter grows to compromise ,
+Stand'st thou aloof upon comparison ?
+Either accept the title thou usurp'st ,
+Of benefit proceeding from our king
+And not of any challenge of desert ,
+Or we will plague thee with incessant wars .
+
+My lord , you do not well in obstinacy
+To cavil in the course of this contract :
+If once it be neglected , ten to one ,
+We shall not find like opportunity .
+
+To say the truth , it is your policy
+To save your subjects from such massacre
+And ruthless slaughters as are daily seen
+By our proceeding in hostility ;
+And therefore take this compact of a truce ,
+Although you break it when your pleasure serves .
+
+How sayst thou , Charles ? shall our condition stand ?
+
+It shall ;
+Only reserv'd , you claim no interest
+In any of our towns of garrison .
+
+Then swear allegiance to his majesty ;
+As thou art knight , never to disobey
+Nor be rebellious to the crown of England ,
+Thou , nor thy nobles , to the crown of England .
+
+So , now dismiss your army when ye please ;
+Hang up your ensigns , let your drums be still ,
+For here we entertain a solemn peace .
+
+
+Your wondrous rare description , noble earl ,
+Of beauteous Margaret hath astonish'd me :
+Her virtues , graced with external gifts
+Do breed love's settled passions in my heart :
+And like as rigour of tempestuous gusts
+Provokes the mightiest hulk against the tide ,
+So am I driven by breath of her renown
+Either to suffer shipwrack , or arrive
+Where I may have fruition of her love .
+
+Tush ! my good lord , this superficial tale
+Is but a preface of her worthy praise :
+The chief perfections of that lovely dame
+Had I sufficient skill to utter them
+Would make a volume of enticing lines ,
+Able to ravish any dull conceit :
+And , which is more , she is not so divine ,
+So full replete with choice of all delights ,
+But with as humble lowliness of mind
+She is content to be at your command ;
+Command , I mean , of virtuous chaste intents ,
+To love and honour Henry as her lord .
+
+And otherwise will Henry ne'er presume .
+Therefore , my Lord Protector , give consent
+That Margaret may be England's royal queen .
+
+So should I give consent to flatter sin .
+You know , my lord , your highness is betroth'd
+Unto another lady of esteem ;
+How shall we then dispense with that contract ,
+And not deface your honour with reproach ?
+
+As doth a ruler with unlawful oaths ;
+Or one that , at a triumph having vow'd
+To try his strength , forsaketh yet the lists
+By reason of his adversary's odds .
+A poor earl's daughter is unequal odds ,
+And therefore may be broke without offence .
+
+Why , what , I pray , is Margaret more than that ?
+Her father is no better than an earl ,
+Although in glorious titles he excel .
+
+Yes , my good lord , her father is a king ,
+The King of Naples and Jerusalem ;
+And of such great authority in France
+As his alliance will confirm our peace ,
+And keep the Frenchmen in allegiance .
+
+And so the Earl of Armagnac may do ,
+Because he is near kinsman unto Charles .
+
+Beside , his wealth doth warrant liberal dower ,
+Where Reignier sooner will receive than give .
+
+A dower , my lords ! disgrace not so your king ,
+That he should be so abject , base , and poor ,
+To choose for wealth and not for perfect love .
+Henry is able to enrich his queen ,
+And not to seek a queen to make him rich :
+So worthless peasants bargain for their wives ,
+As market-men for oxen , sheep , or horse .
+Marriage is a matter of more worth
+Than to be dealt in by attorneyship :
+Not whom we will , but whom his Grace affects ,
+Must be companion of his nuptial bed ;
+And therefore , lords , since he affects her most
+It most of all these reasons bindeth us ,
+In our opinions she should be preferr'd .
+For what is wedlock forced , but a hell ,
+An age of discord and continual strife ?
+Whereas the contrary bringeth bliss ,
+And is a pattern of celestial peace .
+Whom should we match with Henry , being a king ,
+But Margaret , that is daughter to a king ?
+Her peerless feature , joined with her birth ,
+Approves her fit for none but for a king :
+Her valiant courage and undaunted spirit
+More than in women commonly is seen
+Will answer our hope in issue of a king ;
+For Henry , son unto a conqueror ,
+Is likely to beget more conquerors ,
+If with a lady of so high resolve
+As is fair Margaret he be link'd in love .
+Then yield , my lords ; and here conclude with me
+That Margaret shall be queen , and none but she .
+
+Whether it be through force of your report ,
+My noble lord of Suffolk , or for that
+My tender youth was never yet attaint
+With any passion of inflaming love ,
+I cannot tell ; but this I am assur'd ,
+I feel such sharp dissension in my breast ,
+Such fierce alarums both of hope and fear ,
+As I am sick with working of my thoughts .
+Take , therefore , shipping ; post , my lord , to France ;
+Agree to any covenants , and procure
+That Lady Margaret do vouchsafe to come
+To cross the seas to England and be crown'd
+King Henry's faithful and anointed queen :
+For your expenses and sufficient charge ,
+Among the people gather up a tenth .
+Be gone , I say ; for till you do return
+I rest perplexed with a thousand cares .
+And you , good uncle , banish all offence :
+If you do censure me by what you were ,
+Not what you are , I know it will excuse
+This sudden execution of my will .
+And so , conduct me , where , from company
+I may revolve and ruminate my grief .
+
+
+Ay , grief , I fear me , both at first and last .
+
+
+Thus Suffolk hath prevail'd ; and thus he goes ,
+As did the youthful Paris once to Greece ;
+With hope to find the like event in love ,
+But prosper better than the Trojan did .
+Margaret shall now be queen , and rule the king ;
+But I will rule both her , the king , and realm .
+
+THE LIFE AND DEATH OF KING JOHN
+
+Now , say , Chatillon , what would France with us ?
+
+Thus , after greeting , speaks the King of France ,
+In my behaviour , to the majesty ,
+The borrow'd majesty of England here .
+
+A strange beginning ; 'borrow'd majesty !'
+
+Silence , good mother ; hear the embassy .
+
+Philip of France , in right and true behalf
+Of thy deceased brother Geffrey's son ,
+Arthur Plantagenet , lays most lawful claim
+To this fair island and the territories ,
+To Ireland , Poictiers , Anjou , Touraine , Maine ;
+Desiring thee to lay aside the sword
+Which sways usurpingly these several titles ,
+And put the same into young Arthur's hand ,
+Thy nephew and right royal sovereign .
+
+What follows if we disallow of this ?
+
+The proud control of fierce and bloody war ,
+To enforce these rights so forcibly withheld .
+
+Here have we war for war , and blood for blood ,
+Controlment for controlment : so answer France .
+
+Then take my king's defiance from my mouth ,
+The furthest limit of my embassy .
+
+Bear mine to him , and so depart in peace :
+Be thou as lightning in the eyes of France ;
+For ere thou canst report I will be there ,
+The thunder of my cannon shall be heard .
+So , hence ! Be thou the trumpet of our wrath
+And sullen presage of your own decay .
+An honourable conduct let him have :
+Pembroke , look to't . Farewell , Chatillon .
+
+
+What now , my son ! have I not ever said
+How that ambitious Constance would not cease
+Till she had kindled France and all the world
+Upon the right and party of her son ?
+This might have been prevented and made whole
+With very easy arguments of love ,
+Which now the manage of two kingdoms must
+With fearful bloody issue arbitrate .
+
+Our strong possession and our right for us .
+
+Your strong possession much more than your right ,
+Or else it must go wrong , with you and me :
+So much my conscience whispers in your ear ,
+Which none but heaven and you and I shall hear .
+
+
+My liege , here is the strangest controversy ,
+Come from the country to be judg'd by you ,
+That e'er I heard : shall I produce the men ?
+
+Let them approach .
+
+Our abbeys and our priories shall pay
+This expedition's charge .
+
+What men are you ?
+
+Your faithful subject I , a gentleman
+Born in Northamptonshire , and eldest son ,
+As I suppose , to Robert Faulconbridge ,
+A soldier , by the honour-giving hand
+Of C ur-de-Lion knighted in the field .
+
+What art thou ?
+
+The son and heir to that same Faulconbridge .
+
+Is that the elder , and art thou the heir ?
+You came not of one mother then , it seems .
+
+Most certain of one mother , mighty king ,
+That is well known : and , as I think , one father :
+But for the certain knowledge of that truth
+I put you o'er to heaven and to my mother :
+Of that I doubt , as all men's children may .
+
+Out on thee , rude man ! thou dost shame thy mother
+And wound her honour with this diffidence .
+
+I , madam ? no , I have no reason for it ;
+That is my brother's plea and none of mine ;
+The which if he can prove , a' pops me out
+At least from fair five hundred pound a year :
+Heaven guard my mother's honour and my land !
+
+A good blunt fellow . Why , being younger born ,
+Doth he lay claim to thine inheritance ?
+
+I know not why , except to get the land .
+But once he slander'd me with bastardy :
+But whe'r I be as true-begot or no ,
+That still I lay upon my mother's head ;
+But that I am as well-begot , my liege ,
+Fair fall the bones that took the pains for me !
+Compare our faces and be judge yourself .
+If old Sir Robert did beget us both ,
+And were our father , and this son like him ;
+O old Sir Robert , father , on my knee
+I give heaven thanks I was not like to thee !
+
+Why , what a madcap hath heaven lent us here !
+
+He hath a trick of C ur-de-Lion's face ;
+The accent of his tongue affecteth him .
+Do you not read some tokens of my son
+In the large composition of this man ?
+
+Mine eye hath well examined his parts ,
+And finds them perfect Richard . Sirrah , speak :
+What doth move you to claim your brother's land ?
+
+Because he hath a half-face , like my father .
+With half that face would he have all my land ;
+A half-fac'd groat five hundred pound a year !
+
+My gracious liege , when that my father liv'd ,
+Your brother did employ my father much ,
+
+Well , sir , by this you cannot get my land :
+Your tale must be how he employ'd my mother .
+
+And once dispatch'd him in an embassy
+To Germany , there with the emperor
+To treat of high affairs touching that time .
+The advantage of his absence took the king ,
+And in the mean time sojourn'd at my father's ;
+Where how he did prevail I shame to speak ,
+But truth is truth : large lengths of seas and shores
+Between my father and my mother lay ,
+As I have heard my father speak himself ,
+When this same lusty gentleman was got .
+Upon his death-bed he by will bequeath'd
+His lands to me , and took it on his death
+That this my mother's son was none of his ;
+An if he were , he came into the world
+Full fourteen weeks before the course of time .
+Then , good my liege , let me have what is mine ,
+My father's land , as was my father's will .
+
+Sirrah , your brother is legitimate ;
+Your father's wife did after wedlock bear him ,
+And if she did play false , the fault was hers ;
+Which fault lies on the hazards of all husbands
+That marry wives . Tell me , how if my brother ,
+Who , as you say , took pains to get this son ,
+Had of your father claim'd this son for his ?
+In sooth , good friend , your father might have kept
+This calf bred from his cow from all the world ;
+In sooth he might : then , if he were my brother's ,
+My brother might not claim him ; nor your father ,
+Being none of his , refuse him : this concludes ;
+My mother's son did get your father's heir ;
+Your father's heir must have your father's land .
+
+Shall then my father's will be of no force
+To dispossess that child which is not his ?
+
+Of no more force to dispossess me , sir ,
+Than was his will to get me , as I think .
+
+Whe'r hadst thou rather be a Faulconbridge
+And like thy brother , to enjoy thy land ,
+Or the reputed son of C ur-de-Lion ,
+Lord of thy presence and no land beside ?
+
+Madam , an if my brother had my shape ,
+And I had his , Sir Robert his , like him ;
+And if my legs were two such riding-rods ,
+My arms such eel-skins stuff'd , my face so thin
+That in mine ear I durst not stick a rose
+Lest men should say , 'Look , where three-far-things goes !'
+And , to his shape , were heir to all this land ,
+Would I might never stir from off this place ,
+I'd give it every foot to have this face :
+I would not be Sir Nob in any case .
+
+I like thee well : wilt thou forsake thy fortune ,
+Bequeath thy land to him , and follow me ?
+I am a soldier and now bound to France .
+
+Brother , take you my land , I'll take my chance .
+Your face hath got five hundred pounds a year ,
+Yet sell your face for five pence and 'tis dear .
+Madam , I'll follow you unto the death .
+
+Nay , I would have you go before me thither .
+
+Our country manners give our betters way .
+
+What is thy name ?
+
+Philip , my liege , so is my name begun ;
+Philip , good old Sir Robert's wife's eldest son .
+
+From henceforth bear his name whose form thou bearest :
+Kneel thou down Philip , but arise more great ;
+Arise Sir Richard , and Plantagenet .
+
+Brother by the mother's side , give me your hand :
+My father gave me honour , yours gave land .
+Now blessed be the hour , by night or day ,
+When I was got , Sir Robert was away !
+
+The very spirit of Plantagenet !
+I am thy grandam , Richard : call me so .
+
+Madam , by chance but not by truth ; what though ?
+Something about , a little from the right ,
+In at the window , or else o'er the hatch :
+Who dares not stir by day must walk by night ,
+And have is have , however men do catch .
+Near or far off , well won is still well shot ,
+And I am I , howe'er I was begot .
+
+Go , Faulconbridge : now hast thou thy desire ;
+A landless knight makes thee a landed squire .
+Come , madam , and come , Richard : we must speed
+For France , for France , for it is more than need .
+
+Brother , adieu : good fortune come to thee !
+For thou wast got i' the way of honesty .
+
+A foot of honour better than I was ,
+But many a many foot of land the worse .
+Well , now can I make any Joan a lady .
+'Good den , Sir Richard !' 'God-a-mercy , fellow !'
+And if his name be George , I'll call him Peter ;
+For new-made honour doth forget men's names :
+'Tis too respective and too sociable
+For your conversion . Now your traveller ,
+He and his toothpick at my worship's mess ,
+And when my knightly stomach is suffic'd ,
+Why then I suck my teeth , and catechize
+My picked man of countries : 'My dear sir ,'
+Thus , leaning on mine elbow , I begin ,
+'I shall beseech you ,' that is question now ;
+And then comes answer like an absey-book :
+'O , sir ,' says answer , 'at your best command ;
+At your employment ; at your service , sir :'
+'No , sir ,' says question , 'I , sweet sir , at yours :'
+And so , ere answer knows what question would ,
+Saving in dialogue of compliment ,
+And talking of the Alps and Apennines ,
+The Pyrenean and the river Po ,
+It draws toward supper in conclusion so .
+But this is worshipful society
+And fits the mounting spirit like myself ;
+For he is but a bastard to the time ,
+That doth not smack of observation ;
+And so am I , whether I smack or no ;
+And not alone in habit and device ,
+Exterior form , outward accoutrement ,
+But from the inward motion to deliver
+Sweet , sweet , sweet poison for the age's tooth :
+Which , though I will not practise to deceive ,
+Yet , to avoid deceit , I mean to learn ;
+For it shall strew the footsteps of my rising .
+But who comes in such haste in riding-robes ?
+What woman-post is this ? hath she no husband
+That will take pains to blow a horn before her ?
+
+
+O me ! it is my mother . How now , good lady !
+
+What brings you here to court so hastily ?
+
+Where is that slave , thy brother ? where is he ,
+That holds in chase mine honour up and down ?
+
+My brother Robert ? old Sir Robert's son ?
+Colbrand the giant , that same mighty man ?
+Is it Sir Robert's son that you seek so ?
+
+Sir Robert's son ! Ay , thou unreverend boy ,
+Sir Robert's son : why scorn'st thou at Sir Robert ?
+He is Sir Robert's son , and so art thou .
+
+James Gurney , wilt thou give us leave awhile ?
+
+Good leave , good Philip .
+
+Philip ! sparrow ! James ,
+There's toys abroad : anon I'll tell thee more .
+
+Madam , I was not old Sir Robert's son :
+Sir Robert might have eat his part in me
+Upon Good-Friday and ne'er broke his fast .
+Sir Robert could do well : marry , to confess ,
+Could he get me ? Sir Robert could not do it :
+We know his handiwork : therefore , good mother ,
+To whom am I beholding for these limbs ?
+Sir Robert never holp to make this leg .
+
+Hast thou conspired with thy brother too ,
+That for thine own gain shouldst defend mine honour ?
+What means this scorn , thou most untoward knave ?
+
+Knight , knight , good mother , Basilisco-like .
+What ! I am dubb'd ; I have it on my shoulder .
+But , mother , I am not Sir Robert's son ;
+I have disclaim'd Sir Robert and my land ;
+Legitimation , name , and all is gone .
+Then , good my mother , let me know my father ;
+Some proper man , I hope ; who was it , mother ?
+
+Hast thou denied thyself a Faulconbridge ?
+
+As faithfully as I deny the devil .
+
+King Richard C ur-de-Lion was thy father :
+By long and vehement suit I was seduc'd
+To make room for him in my husband's bed .
+Heaven lay not my transgression to my charge !
+Thou art the issue of my dear offence ,
+Which was so strongly urg'd past my defence .
+
+Now , by this light , were I to get again ,
+Madam , I would not wish a better father .
+Some sins do bear their privilege on earth ,
+And so doth yours ; your fault was not your folly :
+Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose ,
+Subjected tribute to commanding love ,
+Against whose fury and unmatched force
+The aweless lion could not wage the fight ,
+Nor keep his princely heart from Richard's hand .
+He that perforce robs lions of their hearts
+May easily win a woman's . Ay , my mother ,
+With all my heart I thank thee for my father !
+Who lives and dares but say thou didst not well
+When I was got , I'll send his soul to hell .
+Come , lady , I will show thee to my kin ;
+And they shall say , when Richard me begot ,
+If thou hadst said him nay , it had been sin :
+Who says it was , he lies : I say , 'twas not .
+
+
+Before Angiers well met , brave Austria .
+Arthur , that great forerunner of thy blood ,
+Richard , that robb'd the lion of his heart
+And fought the holy wars in Palestine ,
+By this brave duke came early to his grave :
+And , for amends to his posterity ,
+At our importance hither is he come ,
+To spread his colours , boy , in thy behalf ,
+And to rebuke the usurpation
+Of thy unnatural uncle , English John :
+Embrace him , love him , give him welcome hither .
+
+God shall forgive you C ur-de-Lion's death
+The rather that you give his offspring life ,
+Shadowing their right under your wings of war .
+I give you welcome with a powerless hand ,
+But with a heart full of unstained love :
+Welcome before the gates of Angiers , duke .
+
+A noble boy ! Who would not do thee right ?
+
+Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kiss ,
+As seal to this indenture of my love ,
+That to my home I will no more return
+Till Angiers , and the right thou hast in France ,
+Together with that pale , that white-fac'd shore ,
+Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides
+And coops from other lands her islanders ,
+Even till that England , hedg'd in with the main ,
+That water-walled bulwark , still secure
+And confident from foreign purposes ,
+Even till that utmost corner of the west
+Salute thee for her king : till then , fair boy ,
+Will I not think of home , but follow arms .
+
+O ! take his mother's thanks , a widow's thanks ,
+Till your strong hand shall help to give him strength
+To make a more requital to your love .
+
+The peace of heaven is theirs that lift their swords
+In such a just and charitable war .
+
+Well then , to work : our cannon shall be bent
+Against the brows of this resisting town .
+Call for our chiefest men of discipline ,
+To cull the plots of best advantages :
+We'll lay before this town our royal bones ,
+Wade to the market-place in Frenchmen's blood ,
+But we will make it subject to this boy .
+
+Stay for an answer to your embassy ,
+Lest unadvis'd you stain your swords with blood .
+My Lord Chatillon may from England bring
+That right in peace which here we urge in war ;
+And then we shall repent each drop of blood
+That hot rash haste so indirectly shed .
+
+
+A wonder , lady ! lo , upon thy wish ,
+Our messenger , Chatillon , is arriv'd !
+What England says , say briefly , gentle lord ;
+We coldly pause for thee ; Chatillon , speak .
+
+Then turn your forces from this paltry siege
+And stir them up against a mightier task .
+England , impatient of your just demands ,
+Hath put himself in arms : the adverse winds ,
+Whose leisure I have stay'd , have given him time
+To land his legions all as soon as I ;
+His marches are expedient to this town ,
+His forces strong , his soldiers confident .
+With him along is come the mother-queen ,
+An Ate , stirring him to blood and strife ;
+With her her niece , the Lady Blanch of Spain ;
+With them a bastard of the king's deceas'd ;
+And all the unsettled humours of the land ,
+Rash , inconsiderate , fiery voluntaries ,
+With ladies' faces and fierce dragons' spleens ,
+Have sold their fortunes at their native homes ,
+Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs ,
+To make a hazard of new fortunes here .
+In brief , a braver choice of dauntless spirits
+Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er
+Did never float upon the swelling tide ,
+To do offence and scathe in Christendom .
+
+The interruption of their churlish drums
+Cuts off more circumstance : they are at hand ,
+To parley or to fight ; therefore prepare .
+
+How much unlook'd for is this expedition !
+
+By how much unexpected , by so much
+We must awake endeavour for defence ,
+For courage mounteth with occasion :
+Let them be welcome then , we are prepar'd .
+
+
+Peace be to France , if France in peace permit
+Our just and lineal entrance to our own ;
+If not , bleed France , and peace ascend to heaven ,
+Whiles we , God's wrathful agent , do correct
+Their proud contempt that beats his peace to heaven .
+
+Peace be to England , if that war return
+From France to England , there to live in peace .
+England we love ; and , for that England's sake
+With burden of our armour here we sweat :
+This toil of ours should be a work of thine ;
+But thou from loving England art so far
+That thou hast under-wrought his lawful king ,
+Cut off the sequence of posterity ,
+Out-faced infant state , and done a rape
+Upon the maiden virtue of the crown .
+Look here upon thy brother Geffrey's face :
+These eyes , these brows , were moulded out of his ;
+This little abstract doth contain that large
+Which died in Geffrey , and the hand of time
+Shall draw this brief into as huge a volume .
+That Geffrey was thy elder brother born ,
+And this his son ; England was Geffrey's right
+And this is Geffrey's . In the name of God
+How comes it then that thou art call'd a king ,
+When living blood doth in these temples beat ,
+Which owe the crown that thou o'ermasterest ?
+
+From whom hast thou this great commission , France ,
+To draw my answer from thy articles ?
+
+From that supernal judge , that stirs good thoughts
+In any breast of strong authority ,
+To look into the blots and stains of right :
+That judge hath made me guardian to this boy :
+Under whose warrant I impeach thy wrong ,
+And by whose help I mean to chastise it .
+
+Alack ! thou dost usurp authority .
+
+Excuse ; it is to beat usurping down .
+
+Who is it thou dost call usurper , France ?
+
+Let me make answer ; thy usurping son .
+
+Out , insolent ! thy bastard shall be king ,
+That thou mayst be a queen , and check the world !
+
+My bed was ever to thy son as true
+As thine was to thy husband , and this boy
+Liker in feature to his father Geffrey
+Than thou and John in manners ; being as like
+As rain to water , or devil to his dam .
+My boy a bastard ! By my soul I think
+His father never was so true begot :
+It cannot be an if thou wert his mother .
+
+There's a good mother , boy , that blots thy father .
+
+There's a good grandam , boy , that would blot thee .
+
+Peace !
+
+Hear the crier .
+
+What the devil art thou ?
+
+One that will play the devil , sir , with you ,
+An a' may catch your hide and you alone .
+You are the hare of whom the proverb goes ,
+Whose valour plucks dead lions by the beard .
+I'll smoke your skin coat , an I catch you right .
+Sirrah , look to't ; i' faith , I will , i' faith .
+
+O ! well did he become that lion's robe ,
+That did disrobe the lion of that robe .
+
+It lies as sightly on the back of him
+As great Alcides' shows upon an ass :
+But , ass , I'll take that burden from your back ,
+Or lay on that shall make your shoulders crack .
+
+What cracker is this same that deafs our ears
+With this abundance of superfluous breath ?
+King ,Lewis , determine what we shall do straight .
+
+Women and fools , break off your conference .
+King John , this is the very sum of all :
+England and Ireland , Anjou , Touraine , Maine ,
+In right of Arthur do I claim of thee .
+Wilt thou resign them and lay down thy arms ?
+
+My life as soon : I do defy thee , France .
+Arthur of Britaine , yield thee to my hand ;
+And out of my dear love I'll give thee more
+Than e'er the coward hand of France can win .
+Submit thee , boy .
+
+Come to thy grandam , child .
+
+Do , child , go to it grandam , child ;
+Give grandam kingdom , and it grandam will
+Give it a plum , a cherry , and a fig :
+There's a good grandam .
+
+Good my mother , peace !
+I would that I were low laid in my grave :
+I am not worth this coil that's made for me .
+
+His mother shames him so , poor boy , he weeps .
+
+Now shame upon you , whe'r she does or no !
+His grandam's wrongs , and not his mother's shames ,
+Draw those heaven-moving pearls from his poor eyes ,
+Which heaven shall take in nature of a fee ;
+Ay , with these crystal beads heaven shall be brib'd
+To do him justice and revenge on you .
+
+Thou monstrous slanderer of heaven and earth !
+
+Thou monstrous injurer of heaven and earth !
+Call not me slanderer ; thou and thine usurp
+The dominations , royalties , and rights
+Of this oppressed boy : this is thy eld'st son's son ,
+Infortunate in nothing but in thee :
+Thy sins are visited in this poor child ;
+The canon of the law is laid on him ,
+Being but the second generation
+Removed from thy sin-conceiving womb .
+
+Bedlam , have done .
+
+I have but this to say ,
+That he's not only plagued for her sin ,
+But God hath made her sin and her the plague
+On this removed issue , plagu'd for her ,
+And with her plague , her sin ; his injury
+Her injury , the beadle to her sin ,
+All punish'd in the person of this child ,
+And all for her . A plague upon her !
+
+Thou unadvised scold , I can produce
+A will that bars the title of thy son .
+
+Ay , who doubts that ? a will ! a wicked will ;
+A woman's will ; a canker'd grandam's will !
+
+Peace , lady ! pause , or be more temperate :
+It ill beseems this presence to cry aim
+To these ill-tuned repetitions .
+Some trumpet summon hither to the walls
+These men of Angiers : let us hear them speak
+Whose title they admit , Arthur's or John's .
+
+
+Who is it that hath warn'd us to the walls ?
+
+'Tis France , for England .
+
+England for itself .
+You men of Angiers , and my loving subjects ,
+
+You loving men of Angiers , Arthur's subjects ,
+Our trumpet call'd you to this gentle parle ,
+
+For our advantage ; therefore hear us first .
+These flags of France , that are advanced here
+Before the eye and prospect of your town ,
+Have hither march'd to your endamagement :
+The cannons have their bowels full of wrath ,
+And ready mounted are they to spit forth
+Their iron indignation 'gainst your walls :
+All preparation for a bloody siege
+And merciless proceeding by these French
+Confronts your city's eyes , your winking gates ;
+And but for our approach those sleeping stones ,
+That as a waist do girdle you about ,
+By the compulsion of their ordinance
+By this time from their fixed beds of lime
+Had been dishabited , and wide havoc made
+For bloody power to rush upon your peace .
+But on the sight of us your lawful king ,
+Who painfully with much expedient march
+Have brought a countercheck before your gates ,
+To save unscratch'd your city's threaten'd cheeks ,
+Behold , the French amaz'd vouchsafe a parle ;
+And now , instead of bullets wrapp'd in fire ,
+To make a shaking fever in your walls ,
+They shoot but calm words folded up in smoke ,
+To make a faithless error in your ears :
+Which trust accordingly , kind citizens ,
+And let us in , your king , whose labour'd spirits ,
+Forwearied in this action of swift speed ,
+Crave harbourage within your city walls .
+
+When I have said , make answer to us both .
+Lo ! in this right hand , whose protection
+Is most divinely vow'd upon the right
+Of him it holds , stands young Plantagenet ,
+Son to the elder brother of this man ,
+And king o'er him and all that he enjoys :
+For this down-trodden equity , we tread
+In war-like march these greens before your town ,
+Being no further enemy to you
+Than the constraint of hospitable zeal ,
+In the relief of this oppressed child ,
+Religiously provokes . Be pleased then
+To pay that duty which you truly owe
+To him that owes it , namely , this young prince ;
+And then our arms , like to a muzzled bear ,
+Save in aspect , have all offence seal'd up ;
+Our cannons' malice vainly shall be spent
+Against the invulnerable clouds of heaven ;
+And with a blessed and unvex'd retire ,
+With unhack'd swords and helmets all unbruis'd ,
+We will bear home that lusty blood again
+Which here we came to spout against your town ,
+And leave your children , wives , and you , in peace .
+But if you fondly pass our proffer'd offer ,
+'Tis not the roundure of your old-fac'd walls
+Can hide you from our messengers of war ,
+Though all these English and their discipline
+Were harbour'd in their rude circumference .
+Then tell us , shall your city call us lord ,
+In that behalf which we have challeng'd it ?
+Or shall we give the signal to our rage
+And stalk in blood to our possession ?
+
+In brief , we are the King of England's subjects :
+For him , and in his right , we hold this town .
+
+Acknowledge then the king , and let me in .
+
+That can we not ; but he that proves the king ,
+To him will we prove loyal : till that time
+Have we ramm'd up our gates against the world .
+
+Doth not the crown of England prove the king ?
+And if not that , I bring you witnesses ,
+Twice fifteen thousand hearts of England's breed ,
+
+Bastards , and else .
+
+To verify our title with their lives .
+
+As many and as well-born bloods as those ,
+
+Some bastards too .
+
+Stand in his face to contradict his claim .
+
+Till thou compound whose right is worthiest ,
+We for the worthiest hold the right from both .
+
+Then God forgive the sins of all those souls
+That to their everlasting residence ,
+Before the dew of evening fall , shall fleet ,
+In dreadful trial of our kingdom's king !
+
+Amen , Amen ! Mount , chevaliers ! to arms !
+
+Saint George , that swing'd the dragon , and e'er since
+Sits on his horse back at mine hostess' door ,
+Teach us some fence !
+
+Sirrah , were I at home ,
+At your den , sirrah , with your lioness ,
+I would set an ox-head to your lion's hide ,
+And make a monster of you .
+
+Peace ! no more .
+
+O ! tremble , for you hear the lion roar .
+
+Up higher to the plain ; where we'll set forth
+In best appointment all our regiments .
+
+Speed then , to take advantage of the field .
+
+It shall be so ;
+
+and at the other hill
+Command the rest to stand . God , and our right !
+
+You men of Angiers , open wide your gates ,
+And let young Arthur , Duke of Britaine , in ,
+Who , by the hand of France this day hath made
+Much work for tears in many an English mother ,
+Whose sons he scatter'd on the bleeding ground ;
+Many a widow's husband grovelling lies ,
+Coldly embracing the discolour'd earth ;
+And victory , with little loss , doth play
+Upon the dancing banners of the French ,
+Who are at hand , triumphantly display'd ,
+To enter conquerors and to proclaim
+Arthur of Britaine England's king and yours .
+
+
+Rejoice , you men of Angiers , ring your bells ;
+King John , your king and England's , doth approach ,
+Commander of this hot malicious day .
+Their armours , that march'd hence so silver-bright ,
+Hither return all gilt with Frenchmen's blood ;
+There stuck no plume in any English crest
+That is removed by a staff of France ;
+Our colours do return in those same hands
+That did display them when we first march'd forth ;
+And , like a jolly troop of huntsmen , come
+Our lusty English , all with purpled hands
+Dy'd in the dying slaughter of their foes .
+Open your gates and give the victors way .
+
+Heralds , from off our towers we might behold ,
+From first to last , the onset and retire
+Of both your armies ; whose equality
+By our best eyes cannot be censured :
+Blood hath bought blood , and blows have answer'd blows ;
+Strength match'd with strength , and power confronted power :
+Both are alike ; and both alike we like .
+One must prove greatest : while they weigh so even ,
+We hold our town for neither , yet for both .
+
+
+France , hast thou yet more blood to cast away ?
+Say , shall the current of our right run on ?
+Whose passage , vex'd with thy impediment ,
+Shall leave his native channel and o'erswell
+With course disturb'd even thy conflning shores ,
+Unless thou let his silver water keep
+A peaceful progress to the ocean .
+
+England , thou hast not sav'd one drop of blood ,
+In this hot trial , more than we of France ;
+Rather , lost more : and by this hand I swear ,
+That sways the earth this climate overlooks ,
+Before we will lay down our just-borne arms ,
+We'll put thee down , 'gainst whom these arms we bear ,
+Or add a royal number to the dead ,
+Gracing the scroll that tells of this war's loss
+With slaughter coupled to the name of kings .
+
+Ha , majesty ! how high thy glory towers
+When the rich blood of kings is set on fire !
+O ! now doth Death line his dead chaps with steel ;
+The swords of soldiers are his teeth , his fangs ;
+And now he feasts , mousing the flesh of men ,
+In undetermin'd differences of kings .
+Why stand these royal fronts amazed thus ?
+Cry 'havoc !' kings ; back to the stained field ,
+You equal-potents , fiery-kindled spirits !
+Then let confusion of one part confirm
+The other's peace ; till then , blows , blood , and death !
+
+Whose party do the townsmen yet admit ?
+
+Speak , citizens , for England ; who's your king ?
+
+The King of England , when we know the king .
+
+Know him in us , that here hold up his right .
+
+In us , that are our own great deputy ,
+And bear possession of our person here ,
+Lord of our presence , Angiers , and of you .
+
+A greater power than we denies all this ;
+And , till it be undoubted , we do lock
+Our former scruple in our strong-barr'd gates ,
+Kings of ourselves ; until our fears , resolv'd ,
+Be by some certain king purg'd and depos'd .
+
+By heaven , these scroyles of Angiers flout you , kings ,
+And stand securely on their battlements
+As in a theatre , whence they gape and point
+At your industrious scenes and acts of death .
+Your royal presences be rul'd by me :
+Do like the mutines of Jerusalem ,
+Be friends awhile and both conjointly bend
+Your sharpest deeds of malice on this town .
+By east and west let France and England mount
+Their battering cannon charged to the mouths ,
+Till their soul-fearing clamours have brawl'd down
+The flinty ribs of this contemptuous city :
+I'd play incessantly upon these jades ,
+Even till unfenced desolation
+Leave them as naked as the vulgar air .
+That done , dissever your united strengths ,
+And part your mingled colours once again ;
+Turn face to face and bloody point to point ;
+Then , in a moment , Fortune shall cull forth
+Out of one side her happy minion ,
+To whom in favour she shall give the day ,
+And kiss him with a glorious victory .
+How like you this wild counsel , mighty states ?
+Smacks it not something of the policy ?
+
+Now , by the sky that hangs above our heads ,
+I like it well . France , shall we knit our powers
+And lay this Angiers even with the ground ;
+Then after fight who shall be king of it ?
+
+An if thou hast the mettle of a king ,
+Being wrong'd as we are by this peevish town ,
+Turn thou the mouth of thy artillery ,
+As we will ours , against these saucy walls ;
+And when that we have dash'd them to the ground ,
+Why then defy each other , and , pell-mell ,
+Make work upon ourselves , for heaven or hell .
+
+Let it be so . Say , where will you assault ?
+
+We from the west will send destruction
+Into this city's bosom .
+
+I from the north .
+
+Our thunder from the south
+Shall rain their drift of bullets on this town .
+
+O , prudent discipline ! From north to south
+Austria and France shoot in each other's mouth :
+I'll stir them to it . Come , away , away !
+
+Hear us , great kings : vouchsafe a while to stay ,
+And I shall show you peace and fair-fac'd league ;
+Win you this city without stroke or wound ;
+Rescue those breathing lives to die in beds ,
+That here come sacrifices for the field .
+Persever not , but hear me , mighty kings .
+
+Speak on with favour : we are bent to hear .
+
+That daughter there of Spain , the Lady Blanch ,
+Is near to England : look upon the years
+Of Lewis the Dauphin and that lovely maid .
+If lusty love should go in quest of beauty ,
+Where should he find it fairer than in Blanch ?
+If zealous love should go in search of virtue ,
+Where should he find it purer than in Blanch ?
+If love ambitious sought a match of birth ,
+Whose veins bound richer blood than Lady Blanch ?
+Such as she is , in beauty , virtue , birth ,
+Is the young Dauphin every way complete :
+If not complete of , say he is not she ;
+And she again wants nothing , to name want ,
+If want it be not that she is not he :
+He is the half part of a blessed man ,
+Left to be finished by such a she ;
+And she a fair divided excellence ,
+Whose fulness of perfection lies in him .
+O ! two such silver currents , when they join ,
+Do glorify the banks that bound them in ;
+And two such shores to two such streams made one ,
+Two such controlling bounds shall you be , kings ,
+To these two princes , if you marry them .
+This union shall do more than battery can
+To our fast-closed gates ; for at this match ,
+With swifter spleen than powder can enforce ,
+The mouth of passage shall we fling wide ope ,
+And give you entrance ; but without this match ,
+The sea enraged is not half so deaf ,
+Lions more confident , mountains and rocks
+More free from motion , no , not death himself
+In mortal fury half so peremptory ,
+As we to keep this city .
+
+Here's a stay ,
+That shakes the rotten carcase of old Death
+Out of his rags ! Here's a large mouth , indeed ,
+That spits forth death and mountains , rocks and seas ,
+Talks as familiarly of roaring lions
+As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs .
+What cannoneer begot this lusty blood ?
+He speaks plain cannon fire , and smoke and bounce ;
+He gives the bastinado with his tongue ;
+Our ears are cudgell'd ; not a word of his
+But buffets better than a fist of France .
+'Zounds ! I was never so bethump'd with words
+Since I first call'd my brother's father dad .
+
+Son , list to this conjunction , make this match ;
+Give with our niece a dowry large enough ;
+For by this knot thou shalt so surely tie
+Thy now unsur'd assurance to the crown ,
+That yon green boy shall have no sun to ripe
+The bloom that promiseth a mighty fruit .
+I see a yielding in the looks of France ;
+Mark how they whisper : urge them while their souls
+Are capable of this ambition ,
+Lest zeal , now melted by the windy breath
+Of soft petitions , pity and remorse ,
+Cool and congeal again to what it was .
+
+Why answer not the double majesties
+This friendly treaty of our threaten'd town ?
+
+Speak England first , that hath been forward first
+To speak unto this city : what say you ?
+
+If that the Dauphin there , thy princely son ,
+Can in this book of beauty read 'I love ,'
+Her dowry shall weigh equal with a queen :
+For Anjou , and fair Touraine , Maine , Poictiers ,
+And all that we upon this side the sea ,
+Except this city now by us besieg'd ,
+Find liable to our crown and dignity ,
+Shall gild her bridal bed and make her rich
+In titles , honours , and promotions ,
+As she in beauty , education , blood ,
+Holds hand with any princess of the world .
+
+What sayst thou , boy ? look in the lady's face .
+
+I do , my lord ; and in her eye I find
+A wonder , or a wondrous miracle ,
+The shadow of myself form'd in her eye ;
+Which , being but the shadow of your son
+Becomes a sun , and makes your son a shadow :
+I do protest I never lov'd myself
+Till now infixed I beheld myself ,
+Drawn in the flattering table of her eye .
+
+
+Drawn in the flattering table of her eye !
+Hang'd in the frowning wrinkle of her brow !
+And quarter'd in her heart ! he doth espy
+Himself love's traitor : this is pity now ,
+That hang'd and drawn and quarter'd , there should be
+In such a love so vile a lout as he .
+
+My uncle's will in this respect is mine :
+If he see aught in you that makes him like ,
+That anything he sees , which moves his liking ,
+I can with ease translate it to my will ;
+Or if you will , to speak more properly ,
+I will enforce it easily to my love .
+Further I will not flatter you , my lord ,
+That all I see in you is worthy love ,
+Than this : that nothing do I see in you ,
+Though churlish thoughts themselves should be your judge ,
+That I can find should merit any hate .
+
+What say these young ones ? What say you , my niece ?
+
+That she is bound in honour still to do
+What you in wisdom still vouchsafe to say .
+
+Speak then , Prince Dauphin ; can you love this lady ?
+
+Nay , ask me if I can refrain from love ;
+For I do love her most unfeignedly .
+
+Then do I give Volquessen , Touraine , Maine ,
+Poictiers , and Anjou , these five provinces ,
+With her to thee ; and this addition more ,
+Full thirty thousand marks of English coin .
+Philip of France , if thou be pleas'd withal ,
+Command thy son and daughter to join hands .
+
+It likes us well . Young princes , close your hands .
+
+And your lips too ; for I am well assur'd
+That I did so when I was first assur'd .
+
+Now , citizens of Angiers , ope your gates ,
+Let in that amity which you have made ;
+For at Saint Mary's chapel presently
+The rites of marriage shall be solemniz'd .
+Is not the Lady Constance in this troop ?
+I know she is not ; for this match made up
+Her presence would have interrupted much :
+Where is she and her son ? tell me , who knows .
+
+She is sad and passionate at your highness' tent .
+
+And , by my faith , this league that we have made
+Will give her sadness very little cure .
+Brother of England , how may we content
+This widow lady ? In her right we came ;
+Which we , God knows , have turn'd another way ,
+To our own vantage .
+
+We will heal up all ;
+For we'll create young Arthur Duke of Britaine
+And Earl of Richmond ; and this rich fair town
+We make him lord of . Call the Lady Constance :
+Some speedy messenger bid her repair
+To our solemnity : I trust we shall ,
+If not fill up the measure of her will ,
+Yet in some measure satisfy her so ,
+That we shall stop her exclamation .
+Go we , as well as haste will suffer us ,
+To this unlook'd-for unprepared pomp .
+
+
+Mad world ! mad kings ! mad composition !
+John , to stop Arthur's title in the whole ,
+Hath willingly departed with a part ;
+And France , whose armour conscience buckled on ,
+Whom zeal and charity brought to the field
+As God's own soldier , rounded in the ear
+With that same purpose-changer , that sly devil ,
+That broker , that still breaks the pate of faith ,
+That daily break-vow , he that wins of all ,
+Of kings , of beggars , old men , young men , maids ,
+Who having no external thing to lose
+But the word 'maid ,' cheats the poor maid of that ,
+That smooth-fac'd gentleman , tickling Commodity ,
+Commodity , the bias of the world ;
+The world , who of itself is peized well ,
+Made to run even upon even ground ,
+Till this advantage , this vile-drawing bias ,
+This sway of motion , this Commodity ,
+Makes it take head from all indifferency ,
+From all direction , purpose , course , intent :
+And this same bias , this Commodity ,
+This bawd , this broker , this all-changing word ,
+Clapp'd on the outward eye of fickle France ,
+Hath drawn him from his own determin'd aid ,
+From a resolv'd and honourable war ,
+To a most base and vile-concluded peace .
+And why rail I on this Commodity ?
+But for because he hath not woo'd me yet .
+Not that I have the power to clutch my hand
+When his fair angels would salute my palm ;
+But for my hand , as unattempted yet ,
+Like a poor beggar , raileth on the rich .
+Well , whiles I am a beggar , I will rail ,
+And say there is no sin but to be rich ;
+And being rich , my virtue then shall be
+To say there is no vice but beggary .
+Since kings break faith upon Commodity ,
+Gain , be my lord , for I will worship thee !
+
+Gone to be married ! gone to swear a peace !
+False blood to false blood join'd ! gone to be friends !
+Shall Lewis have Blanch , and Blanch those provinces ?
+It is not so ; thou hast misspoke , misheard ;
+Be well advis'd , tell o'er thy tale again :
+It cannot be ; thou dost but say 'tis so .
+I trust I may not trust thee , for thy word
+Is but the vain breath of a common man :
+Believe me , I do not believe thee , man ;
+I have a king's oath to the contrary .
+Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting me ,
+For I am sick and capable of fears ;
+Oppress'd with wrongs , and therefore full of fears ;
+A widow , husbandless , subject to fears ;
+A woman , naturally born to fears ;
+And though thou now confess thou didst but jest ,
+With my vex'd spirits I cannot take a truce ,
+But they will quake and tremble all this day .
+What dost thou mean by shaking of thy head ?
+Why dost thou look so sadly on my son ?
+What means that hand upon that breast of thine ?
+Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum ,
+Like a proud river peering o'er his bounds ?
+Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words ?
+Then speak again ; not all thy former tale ,
+But this one word , whether thy tale be true .
+
+As true as I believe you think them false
+That give you cause to prove my saying true .
+
+O ! if thou teach me to believe this sorrow ,
+Teach thou this sorrow how to make me die ;
+And let belief and life encounter so
+As doth the fury of two desperate men
+Which in the very meeting fall and die .
+Lewis marry Blanch ! O boy ! then where art thou ?
+France friend with England what becomes of me ?
+Fellow , be gone ! I cannot brook thy sight :
+This news hath made thee a most ugly man .
+
+What other harm have I , good lady , done ,
+But spoke the harm that is by others done ?
+
+Which harm within itself so heinous is
+As it makes harmful all that speak of it .
+
+I do beseech you , madam , be content .
+
+If thou , that bidd'st me be content , wert grim ,
+Ugly and slanderous to thy mother's womb ,
+Full of unpleasing blots and sightless stains ,
+Lame , foolish , crooked , swart , prodigious ,
+Patch'd with foul moles and eye-offending marks ,
+I would not care , I then would be content ;
+For then I should not love thee , no , nor thou
+Become thy great birth , nor deserve a crown .
+But thou art fair ; and at thy birth , dear boy ,
+Nature and Fortune join'd to make thee great :
+Of Nature's gifts thou mayst with lilies boast
+And with the half-blown rose . But Fortune , O !
+She is corrupted , chang'd , and won from thee :
+She adulterates hourly with thine uncle John ,
+And with her golden hand hath pluck'd on France
+To tread down fair respect of sovereignty ,
+And made his majesty the bawd to theirs .
+France is a bawd to Fortune and King John ,
+That strumpet Fortune , that usurping John !
+Tell me , thou fellow , is not France forsworn ?
+Envenom him with words , or get thee gone
+And leave those woes alone which I alone
+Am bound to underbear .
+
+Pardon me , madam ,
+I may not go without you to the kings .
+
+Thou mayst , thou shalt : I will not go with thee .
+I will instruct my sorrows to be proud ;
+For grief is proud and makes his owner stoop .
+To me and to the state of my great grief
+Let kings assemble ; for my grief's so great
+That no supporter but the huge firm earth
+Can hold it up : here I and sorrows sit ;
+Here is my throne , bid kings come bow to it .
+
+'Tis true , fair daughter ; and this blessed day
+Ever in France shall be kept festival :
+To solemnize this day the glorious sun
+Stays in his course and plays the alchemist ,
+Turning with splendour of his precious eye
+The meagre cloddy earth to glittering gold :
+The yearly course that brings this day about
+Shall never see it but a holiday .
+
+A wicked day , and not a holy day !
+What hath this day deserv'd ? what hath it done
+That it in golden letters should be set
+Among the high tides in the calendar ?
+Nay , rather turn this day out of the week ,
+This day of shame , oppression , perjury :
+Or , if it must stand still , let wives with child
+Pray that their burdens may not fall this day ,
+Lest that their hopes prodigiously be cross'd :
+But on this day let seamen fear no wrack ;
+No bargains break that are not this day made ;
+This day all things begun come to ill end ;
+Yea , faith itself to hollow falsehood change !
+
+By heaven , lady , you shall have no cause
+To curse the fair proceedings of this day :
+Have I not pawn'd to you my majesty ?
+
+You have beguil'd me with a counterfeit
+Resembling majesty , which , being touch'd and tried ,
+Proves valueless : you are forsworn , forsworn ;
+You came in arms to spill mine enemies' blood ,
+But now in arms you strengthen it with yours :
+The grappling vigour and rough frown of war
+Is cold in amity and painted peace ,
+And our oppression hath made up this league .
+Arm , arm , you heavens , against these perjur'd kings !
+A widow cries ; be husband to me , heavens !
+Let not the hours of this ungodly day
+Wear out the day in peace ; but , ere sunset ,
+Set armed discord 'twixt these perjur'd kings !
+Hear me ! O , hear me !
+
+Lady Constance , peace !
+
+War ! war ! no peace ! peace is to me a war .
+O , Lymoges ! O , Austria ! thou dost shame
+That bloody spoil . thou slave , thou wretch , thou coward !
+Thou little valiant , great in villany !
+Thou ever strong upon the stronger side !
+Thou Fortune's champion , that dost never fight
+But when her humorous ladyship is by
+To teach thee safety ! thou art perjur'd too ,
+And sooth'st up greatness . What a fool art thou ,
+A ramping fool , to brag , and stamp and swear
+Upon my party ! Thou cold-blooded slave ,
+Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side ?
+Been sworn my soldier ? bidding me depend
+Upon thy stars , thy fortune , and thy strength ?
+And dost thou now fall over to my foes ?
+Thou wear a hon's hide ! doff it for shame ,
+And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs .
+
+O ! that a man should speak those words to me .
+
+And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs .
+
+Thou dar'st not say so , villain , for thy life .
+
+And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs .
+
+We like not this ; thou dost forget thyself .
+
+
+Here comes the holy legate of the pope .
+
+Hail , you anointed deputies of heaven !
+To thee , King John , my holy errand is .
+I Pandulph , of fair Milan cardinal ,
+And from Pope Innocent the legate here ,
+Do in his name religiously demand
+Why thou against the church , our holy mother ,
+So wilfully dost spurn ; and , force perforce ,
+Keep Stephen Langton , chosen Archbishop
+Of Canterbury , from that holy see ?
+This , in our foresaid holy father's name ,
+Pope Innocent , I do demand of thee .
+
+What earthly name to interrogatories
+Can task the free breath of a sacred king ?
+Thou canst not , cardinal , devise a name
+So slight , unworthy and ridiculous ,
+To charge me to an answer , as the pope .
+Tell him this tale ; and from the mouth of England
+Add thus much more : that no Italian priest
+Shall tithe or toll in our dominions ;
+But as we under heaven are supreme head ,
+So under him that great supremacy ,
+Where we do reign , we will alone uphold ,
+Without the assistance of a mortal hand :
+So tell the pope ; all reverence set apart
+To him , and his usurp'd authority .
+
+Brother of England , you blaspheme in this .
+
+Though you and all the kings of Christendom
+Are led so grossly by this meddling priest ,
+Dreading the curse that money may buy out ;
+And , by the merit of vile gold , dross , dust ,
+Purchase corrupted pardon of a man ,
+Who in that sale sells pardon from himself ;
+Though you and all the rest so grossly led
+This juggling witchcraft with revenue cherish ;
+Yet I alone , alone do me oppose
+Against the pope , and count his friends my foes .
+
+Then , by the lawful power that I have ,
+Thou shalt stand curs'd and excommunicate :
+And blessed shall he be that doth revolt
+From his allegiance to a heretic ;
+And meritorious shall that hand be call'd ,
+Canonized and worshipp'd as a saint ,
+That takes away by any secret course
+Thy hateful life .
+
+O ! lawful let it be
+That I have room with Rome to curse awhile .
+Good father cardinal , cry thou amen
+To my keen curses ; for without my wrong
+There is no tongue hath power to curse him right .
+
+There's law and warrant , lady , for my curse .
+
+And for mine too : when law can do no right ,
+Let it be lawful that law bar no wrong .
+Law cannot give my child his kingdom here ,
+For he that holds his kingdom holds the law :
+Therefore , since law itself is perfect wrong ,
+How can the law forbid my tongue to curse ?
+
+Philip of France , on peril of a curse ,
+Let go the hand of that arch-heretic ,
+And raise the power of France upon his head ,
+Unless he do submit himself to Rome .
+
+Look'st thou pale , France ? do not let go thy hand .
+
+Look to that , devil , lest that France repent ,
+And by disjoining hands , hell lose a soul .
+
+King Philip , listen to the cardinal .
+
+And hang a calf's-skin on his recreant limbs .
+
+Well , ruffian , I must pocket up these wrongs ,
+Because
+
+Your breeches best may carry them .
+
+Philip , what sayst thou to the cardinal ?
+
+What should he say , but as the cardinal ?
+
+Bethink you , father ; for the difference
+Is purchase of a heavy curse from Rome ,
+Or the light loss of England for a friend :
+Forego the easier .
+
+That's the curse of Rome .
+
+O Lewis , stand fast ! the devil tempts thee here ,
+In likeness of a new untrimmed bride .
+
+The Lady Constance speaks not from her faith ,
+But from her need .
+
+O ! if thou grant my need ,
+Which only lives but by the death of faith ,
+That need must needs infer this principle ,
+That faith would live again by death of need :
+O ! then , tread down my need , and faith mounts up ;
+Keep my need up , and faith is trodden down .
+
+The king is mov'd , and answers not to this .
+
+O ! be remov'd from him , and answer well .
+
+Do so , King Philip : hang no more in doubt .
+
+Hang nothing but a calf's-skin , most sweet lout .
+
+I am perplex'd , and know not what to say .
+
+What canst thou say but will perplex thee more ,
+If thou stand excommunicate and curs'd ?
+
+Good reverend father , make my person yours ,
+And tell me how you would bestow yourself .
+This royal hand and mine are newly knit ,
+And the conjunction of our inward souls
+Married in league , coupled and link'd together
+With all religious strength of sacred vows ;
+The latest breath that gave the sound of words
+Was deep-sworn faith , peace , amity , true love ,
+Between our kingdoms and our royal selves ;
+And even before this truce , but new before ,
+No longer than we well could wash our hands
+To clap this royal bargain up of peace ,
+Heaven knows , they were besmear'd and overstain'd
+With slaughter's pencil , where revenge did paint
+The fearful difference of incensed kings :
+And shall these hands , so lately purg'd of blood ,
+So newly join'd in love , so strong in both ,
+Unyoke this seizure and this kind regreet ?
+Play fast and loose with faith ? so jest with heaven ,
+Make such unconstant children of ourselves ,
+As now again to snatch our palm from palm ,
+Unswear faith sworn , and on the marriage-bed
+Of smiling peace to march a bloody host ,
+And make a riot on the gentle brow
+Of true sincerity ? O ! holy sir ,
+My reverend father , let it not be so !
+Out of your grace , devise , ordain , impose
+Some gentle order , and then we shall be bless'd
+To do your pleasure and continue friends .
+
+All form is formless , order orderless ,
+Save what is opposite to England's love .
+Therefore to arms ! be champion of our church ,
+Or let the church , our mother , breathe her curse ,
+A mother's curse , on her revolting son .
+France , thou mayst hold a serpent by the tongue ,
+A chafed lion by the mortal paw ,
+A fasting tiger safer by the tooth ,
+Than keep in peace that hand which thou dost hold .
+
+I may disjoin my hand , but not my faith .
+
+So mak'st thou faith an enemy to faith :
+And like a civil war sett'st oath to oath ,
+Thy tongue against thy tongue . O ! let thy vow
+First made to heaven , first be to heaven perform'd ;
+That is , to be the champion of our church .
+What since thou swor'st is sworn against thyself
+And may not be performed by thyself ;
+For that which thou hast sworn to do amiss
+Is not amiss when it is truly done ;
+And being not done , where doing tends to ill ,
+The truth is then most done not doing it .
+The better act of purposes mistook
+Is to mistake again ; though indirect ,
+Yet indirection thereby grows direct ,
+And falsehood falsehood cures , as fire cools fire
+Within the scorched veins of one new-burn'd .
+It is religion that doth make vows kept ;
+But thou hast sworn against religion
+By what thou swear'st , against the thing thou swear'st ,
+And mak'st an oath the surety for thy truth
+Against an oath : the truth thou art unsure
+To swear , swears only not to be forsworn ;
+Else what a mockery should it be to swear !
+But thou dost swear only to be forsworn ;
+And most forsworn , to keep what thou dost swear .
+Therefore thy later vows against thy first
+Is in thyself rebellion to thyself ;
+And better conquest never canst thou make
+Than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts
+Against these giddy loose suggestions :
+Upon which better part our prayers come in ,
+If thou vouchsafe them ; but , if not , then know
+The peril of our curses light on thee
+So heavy as thou shalt not shake them off ,
+But in despair die under their black weight .
+
+Rebellion , flat rebellion !
+
+Will't not be ?
+Will not a calf's-skin stop that mouth of thine ?
+
+Father , to arms !
+
+Upon thy wedding-day ?
+Against the blood that thou hast married ?
+What ! shall our feast be kept with slaughter'd men ?
+Shall braying trumpets and loud churlish drums ,
+Clamours of hell , be measures to our pomp ?
+O husband , hear me ! ay , alack ! how new
+Is husband in my mouth ; even for that name ,
+Which till this time my tongue did ne'er pronounce ,
+Upon my knee I beg , go not to arms
+Against mine uncle .
+
+O ! upon my knee ,
+Made hard with kneeling , I do pray to thee ,
+Thou virtuous Dauphin , alter not the doom
+Forethought by heaven .
+
+Now shall I see thy love : what motive may
+Be stronger with thee than the name of wife ?
+
+That which upholdeth him that thee upholds ,
+His honour : O ! thine honour , Lewis , thine honour .
+
+I muse your majesty doth seem so cold ,
+When such profound respects do pull you on .
+
+I will denounce a curse upon his head .
+
+Thou shalt not need . England , I'll fall from thee .
+
+O fair return of banish'd majesty !
+
+O foul revolt of French inconstancy !
+
+France , thou shalt rue this hour within this hour .
+
+Old Time the clock-setter , that bald sexton Time ,
+Is it as he will ? well then , France shall rue .
+
+The sun's o'ercast with blood : fair day , adieu !
+Which is the side that I must go withal ?
+I am with both : each army hath a hand ;
+And in their rage , I having hold of both ,
+They whirl asunder and dismember me .
+Husband , I cannot pray that thou mayst win ;
+Uncle , I needs must pray that thou mayst lose ;
+Father , I may not wish the fortune thine ;
+Grandam , I will not wish thy wishes thrive :
+Whoever wins , on that side shall I lose ;
+Assured loss before the match be play'd .
+
+Lady , with me ; with me thy fortune lies .
+
+There where my fortune lives , there my life dies .
+
+Cousin , go draw our puissance together .
+
+France , I am burn'd up with inflaming wrath ;
+A rage whose heat hath this condition ,
+That nothing can allay , nothing but blood ,
+The blood , and dearest-valu'd blood of France .
+
+Thy rage shall burn thee up , and thou shalt turn
+To ashes , ere our blood shall quench that fire :
+Look to thyself , thou art in jeopardy .
+
+No more than he that threats . To arms let's hie !
+
+
+Now , by my life , this day grows wondrous hot ;
+Some airy devil hovers in the sky
+And pours down mischief . Austria's head lie there ,
+While Philip breathes .
+
+
+Hubert , keep this boy . Philip , make up ,
+My mother is assailed in our tent ,
+And ta'en , I fear .
+
+My lord , I rescu'd her ;
+Her highness is in safety , fear you not :
+But on , my liege ; for very little pains
+Will bring this labour to a happy end .
+
+
+So shall it be ; your grace shall stay behind
+So strongly guarded .
+
+Cousin , look not sad :
+Thy grandam loves thee ; and thy uncle will
+As dear be to thee as thy father was .
+
+O ! this will make my mother die with grief .
+
+Cousin , away for England ! haste before ;
+And , ere our coming , see thou shake the bags
+Of hoarding abbots ; set at liberty
+Imprison'd angels : the fat ribs of peace
+Must by the hungry now be fed upon :
+Use our commission in his utmost force .
+
+Bell , book , and candle shall not drive me back
+When gold and silver becks me to come on .
+I leave your highness . Grandam , I will pray ,
+If ever I remember to be holy ,
+For your fair safety ; so I kiss your hand .
+
+Farewell , gentle cousin .
+
+Coz , farewell .
+
+
+Come hither , little kinsman ; hark , a word .
+
+
+Come hither , Hubert . O my gentle Hubert ,
+We owe thee much : within this wall of flesh
+There is a soul counts thee her creditor ,
+And with advantage means to pay thy love :
+And , my good friend , thy voluntary oath
+Lives in this bosom , dearly cherished .
+Give me thy hand . I had a thing to say ,
+But I will fit it with some better time .
+By heaven , Hubert , I am almost asham'd
+To say what good respect I have of thee .
+
+I am much bounden to your majesty .
+
+Good friend , thou hast no cause to say so yet ;
+But thou shalt have ; and creep time ne'er so slow ,
+Yet it shall come for me to do thee good .
+I had a thing to say , but let it go :
+The sun is in the heaven , and the proud day ,
+Attended with the pleasures of the world ,
+Is all too wanton and too full of gawds
+To give me audience : if the midnight bell
+Did , with his iron tongue and brazen mouth ,
+Sound one into the drowsy race of night ;
+If this same were a churchyard where we stand ,
+And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs ;
+Or if that surly spirit , melancholy ,
+Had bak'd thy blood and made it heavy-thick ,
+Which else runs tickling up and down the veins ,
+Making that idiot , laughter , keep men's eyes
+And strain their cheeks to idle merriment ,
+A passion hateful to my purposes ;
+Or if that thou couldst see me without eyes ,
+Hear me without thine ears , and make reply
+Without a tongue , using conceit alone ,
+Without eyes , ears , and harmful sound of words ;
+Then , in despite of brooded watchful day ,
+I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts :
+But ah ! I will not : yet I love thee well ;
+And , by my troth , I think thou lov'st me well .
+
+So well , that what you bid me undertake ,
+Though that my death were adjunct to my act ,
+By heaven , I would do it .
+
+Do not I know thou wouldst ?
+Good Hubert ! Hubert , Hubert , throw thine eye
+On yon young boy : I'll tell thee what , my friend ,
+He is a very serpent in my way ;
+And wheresoe'er this foot of mine doth tread
+He lies before me : dost thou understand me ?
+Thou art his keeper .
+
+And I'll keep him so
+That he shall not offend your majesty .
+
+Death .
+
+My lord ?
+
+A grave .
+
+He shall not live .
+
+Enough .
+I could be merry now . Hubert , I love thee ;
+Well , I'll not say what I intend for thee :
+Remember . Madam , fare you well :
+I'll send those powers o'er to your majesty .
+
+My blessing go with thee !
+
+For England , cousin ; go :
+Hubert shall be your man , attend on you
+With all true duty . On toward Calais , ho !
+
+
+So , by a roaring tempest on the flood ,
+A whole armado of convicted sail
+Is scatter'd and disjoin'd from fellowship .
+
+Courage and comfort ! all shall yet go well .
+
+What can go well when we have run so ill ?
+Are we not beaten ? Is not Angiers lost ?
+Arthur ta'en prisoner ? divers dear friends slain ?
+And bloody England into England gone ,
+O'erbearing interruption , spite of France ?
+
+What he hath won that hath he fortified :
+So hot a speed with such advice dispos'd ,
+Such temperate order in so fierce a cause ,
+Doth want example : who hath read or heard
+Of any kindred action like to this ?
+
+Well could I bear that England had this praise ,
+So we could find some pattern of our shame .
+
+
+Look , who comes here ! a grave unto a soul ;
+Holding the eternal spirit , against her will ,
+In the vile prison of afflicted breath .
+
+I prithee lady , go away with me .
+
+Lo now ! now see the issue of your peace .
+
+Patience , good lady ! comfort , gentle Constance !
+
+No , I defy all counsel , all redress ,
+But that which ends all counsel , true redress ,
+Death , death : O , amiable lovely death !
+Thou odoriferous stench ! sound rottenness !
+Arise forth from the couch of lasting night ,
+Thou hate and terror to prosperity ,
+And I will kiss thy detestable bones ,
+And put my eyeballs in thy vaulty brows ,
+And ring these fingers with thy household worms ,
+And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust ,
+And be a carrion monster like thyself :
+Come , grin on me ; and I will think thou smil'st
+And buss thee as thy wife ! Misery's love ,
+O ! come to me .
+
+O fair affliction , peace !
+
+No , no , I will not , having breath to cry :
+O ! that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth !
+Then with a passion would I shake the world ,
+And rouse from sleep that fell anatomy
+Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice ,
+Which scorns a modern invocation .
+
+Lady , you utter madness , and not sorrow .
+
+Thou art not holy to belie me so ;
+I am not mad : this hair I tear is mine ;
+My name is Constance ; I was Geffrey's wife ;
+Young Arthur is my son , and he is lost !
+I am not mad : I would to heaven I were !
+For then 'tis like I should forget myself :
+O ! if I could , what grief should I forget .
+Preach some philosophy to make me mad ,
+And thou shalt be canoniz'd , cardinal ;
+For being not mad but sensible of grief ,
+My reasonable part produces reason
+How I may be deliver'd of these woes ,
+And teaches me to kill or hang myself :
+If I were mad , I should forget my son ,
+Or madly think a babe of clouts were he .
+I am not mad : too well , too well I feel
+The different plague of each calamity .
+
+Bind up those tresses . O ! what love I note
+In the fair multitude of those her hairs :
+Where but by chance a silver drop hath fallen ,
+Even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends
+Do glue themselves in sociable grief ;
+Like true , inseparable , faithful loves ,
+Sticking together in calamity .
+
+To England , if you will .
+
+Bind up your hairs .
+
+Yes , that I will ; and wherefore will I do it ?
+I tore them from their bonds , and cried aloud
+'O ! that these hands could so redeem my son ,
+As they have given these hairs their liberty !'
+But now I envy at their liberty ,
+And will again commit them to their bonds ,
+Because my poor child is a prisoner .
+And , father cardinal , I have heard you say
+That we shall see and know our friends in heaven .
+If that be true , I shall see my boy again ;
+For since the birth of Cain , the first male child ,
+To him that did but yesterday suspire ,
+There was not such a gracious creature born .
+But now will canker-sorrow eat my bud
+And chase the native beauty from his cheek ,
+And he will look as hollow as a ghost ,
+As dim and meagre as an ague's fit ,
+And so he'll die ; and , rising so again ,
+When I shall meet him in the court of heaven
+I shall not know him : therefore never , never
+Must I behold my pretty Arthur more .
+
+You hold too heinous a respect of grief .
+
+He talks to me , that never had a son .
+
+You are as fond of grief as of your child .
+
+Grief fills the room up of my absent child ,
+Lies in his bed , walks up and down with me ,
+Puts on his pretty looks , repeats his words ,
+Remembers me of all his gracious parts ,
+Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form :
+Then have I reason to be fond of grief .
+Fare you well : had you such a loss as I ,
+I could give better comfort than you do .
+I will not keep this form upon my head
+When there is such disorder in my wit .
+O Lord ! my boy , my Arthur , my fair son !
+My life , my joy , my food , my all the world !
+My widow-comfort , and my sorrows' cure !
+
+
+I fear some outrage , and I'll follow her .
+
+
+There's nothing in this world can make me joy :
+Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale ,
+Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man ;
+And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste ,
+That it yields nought but shame and bitterness .
+
+Before the curing of a strong disease ,
+Even in the instant of repair and health ,
+The fit is strongest : evils that take leave ,
+On their departure most of all show evil .
+What have you lost by losing of this day ?
+
+All days of glory , joy , and happiness .
+
+If you had won it , certainly you had .
+No , no ; when Fortune means to men most good ,
+She looks upon them with a threatening eye .
+'Tis strange to think how much King John hath lost
+In this which he accounts so clearly won .
+Are not you griev'd that Arthur is his prisoner ?
+
+As heartily as he is glad he hath him .
+
+Your mind is all as youthful as your blood .
+Now hear me speak with a prophetic spirit ;
+For even the breath of what I mean to speak
+Shall blow each dust , each straw , each little rub ,
+Out of the path which shall directly lead
+Thy foot to England's throne ; and therefore mark .
+John hath seiz'd Arthur ; and it cannot be ,
+That whiles warm life plays in that infant's veins
+The misplac'd John should entertain an hour ,
+One minute , nay , one quiet breath of rest .
+A sceptre snatch'd with an unruly hand
+Must be as boisterously maintain'd as gain'd ;
+And he that stands upon a slippery place
+Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up :
+That John may stand , then Arthur needs must fall ;
+So be it , for it cannot be but so .
+
+But what shall I gain by young Arthur's fall ?
+
+You , in the right of Lady Blanch your wife ,
+May then make all the claim that Arthur did .
+
+And lose it , life and all , as Arthur did .
+
+How green you are and fresh in this old world !
+John lays you plots ; the times conspire with you ;
+For he that steeps his safety in true blood
+Shall find but bloody safety and untrue .
+This act so evilly borne shall cool the hearts
+Of all his people and freeze up their zeal ,
+That none so small advantage shall step forth
+To check his reign , but they will cherish it ;
+No natural exhalation in the sky ,
+No scope of nature , no distemper'd day ,
+No common wind , no customed event ,
+But they will pluck away his natural cause
+And call them meteors , prodigies , and signs ,
+Abortives , presages , and tongues of heaven ,
+Plainly denouncing vengeance upon John .
+
+May be he will not touch young Arthur's life ,
+But hold himself safe in his prisonment .
+
+O ! sir , when he shall hear of your approach ,
+If that young Arthur be not gone already ,
+Even at that news he dies ; and then the hearts
+Of all his people shall revolt from him
+And kiss the lips of unacquainted change ,
+And pick strong matter of revolt and wrath
+Out of the bloody fingers' ends of John .
+Methinks I see this hurly all on foot :
+And , O ! what better matter breeds for you
+Than I have nam'd . The bastard Faulconbridge
+Is now in England ransacking the church ,
+Offending charity : if but a dozen French
+Were there in arms , they would be as a call
+To train ten thousand English to their side ;
+Or as a little snow , tumbled about ,
+Anon becomes a mountain . O noble Dauphin !
+Go with me to the king . 'Tis wonderful
+What may be wrought out of their discontent
+Now that their souls are topful of offence .
+For England go ; I will whet on the king .
+
+Strong reasons make strong actions . Let us go :
+If you say ay , the king will not say no .
+
+Heat me these irons hot ; and look thou stand
+Within the arras : when I strike my foot
+Upon the bosom of the ground , rush forth ,
+And bind the boy which you shall find with me
+Fast to the chair : be heedful . Hence , and watch .
+
+I hope your warrant will bear out the deed .
+
+Uncleanly scruples ! fear not you : look to't .
+
+Young lad , come forth ; I have to say with you .
+
+
+Good morrow , Hubert .
+
+Good morrow , little prince .
+
+As little prince ,having so great a title
+To be more prince ,as may be . You are sad .
+
+Indeed , I have been merrier .
+
+Mercy on me !
+Methinks nobody should be sad but I :
+Yet I remember , when I was in France ,
+Young gentlemen would be as sad as night ,
+Only for wantonness . By my christendom ,
+So I were out of prison and kept sheep ,
+I should be as merry as the day is long ;
+And so I would be here , but that I doubt
+My uncle practises more harm to me :
+He is afraid of me , and I of him .
+Is it my fault that I was Geffrey's son ?
+No , indeed , is't not ; and I would to heaven
+I were your son , so you would love me , Hubert .
+
+If I talk to him with his innocent prate
+He will awake my mercy which lies dead :
+Therefore I will be sudden and dispatch .
+
+Are you sick , Hubert ? you look pale to-day :
+In sooth , I would you were a little sick ,
+That I might sit all night and watch with you :
+I warrant I love you more than you do me .
+
+His words do take possession of my bosom .
+Read here , young Arthur .
+
+How now , foolish rheum !
+Turning dispiteous torture out of door !
+I must be brief , lest resolution drop
+Out at mine eyes in tender womanish tears .
+Can you not read it ? is it not fair writ ?
+
+Too fairly , Hubert , for so foul effect .
+Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes ?
+
+Young boy , I must .
+
+And will you ?
+
+And I will .
+
+Have you the heart ? When your head did but ache ,
+I knit my handkercher about your brows ,
+The best I had , a princess wrought it me ,
+And I did never ask it you again ;
+And with my hand at midnight held your head ,
+And like the watchful minutes to the hour ,
+Still and anon cheer'd up the heavy time ,
+Saying , 'What lack you ?' and , 'Where lies your grief ?'
+Or , 'What good love may I perform for you ?'
+Many a poor man's son would have lain still ,
+And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you ;
+But you at your sick-service had a prince .
+Nay , you may think my love was crafty love ,
+And call it cunning : do an if you will .
+If heaven be pleas'd that you must use me ill ,
+Why then you must . Will you put out mine eyes ?
+These eyes that never did nor never shall
+So much as frown on you ?
+
+I have sworn to do it ;
+And with hot irons must I burn them out .
+
+Ah ! none but in this iron age would do it !
+The iron of itself , though heat red-hot ,
+Approaching near these eyes , would drink my tears
+And quench this fiery indignation
+Even in the matter of mine innocence ;
+Nay , after that , consume away in rust ,
+But for containing fire to harm mine eye .
+Are you more stubborn-hard than hammer'd iron ?
+An if an angel should have come to me
+And told me Hubert should put out mine eyes ,
+I would not have believ'd him ; no tongue but Hubert's .
+
+Come forth .
+
+Do as I bid you do .
+
+O ! save me , Hubert , save me ! my eyes are out
+Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men .
+
+Give me the iron , I say , and bind him here .
+
+Alas ! what need you be so boisterousrough ?
+I will not struggle ; I will stand stone-still .
+For heaven's sake , Hubert , let me not be bound !
+Nay , hear me , Hubert : drive these men away ,
+And I will sit as quiet as a lamb ;
+I will not stir , nor wince , nor speak a word ,
+Nor look upon the iron angerly .
+Thrust but these men away , and I'll forgive you ,
+Whatever torment you do put me to .
+
+Go , stand within : let me alone with him .
+
+I am best pleas'd to be from such a deed .
+
+
+Alas ! I then have chid away my friend :
+He hath a stern look , but a gentle heart .
+Let him come back , that his compassion may
+Give life to yours .
+
+Come , boy , prepare yourself .
+
+Is there no remedy ?
+
+None , but to lose your eyes .
+
+O heaven ! that there were but a mote in yours ,
+A grain , a dust , a gnat , a wandering hair ,
+Any annoyance in that precious sense ;
+Then feeling what small things are boisterous there ,
+Your vile intent must needs seem horrible .
+
+Is this your promise ? go to , hold your tongue .
+
+Hubert , the utterance of a brace of tongues
+Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes :
+Let me not hold my tongue ; let me not , Hubert :
+Or Hubert , if you will , cut out my tongue ,
+So I may keep mine eyes : O ! spare mine eyes ,
+Though to no use but still to look on you :
+Lo ! by my troth , the instrument is cold
+And would not harm me .
+
+I can heat it , boy .
+
+No , in good sooth ; the fire is dead with grief ,
+Being create for comfort , to be us'd
+In undeserv'd extremes : see else yourself ;
+There is no malice in this burning coal ;
+The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out
+And strew'd repentant ashes on his head .
+
+But with my breath I can revive it , boy .
+
+An if you do you will but make it blush
+And glow with shame of your proceedings , Hubert :
+Nay , it perchance will sparkle in your eyes ;
+And like a dog that is compell'd to fight ,
+Snatch at his master that doth tarre him on .
+All things that you should use to do me wrong
+Deny their office : only you do lack
+That mercy which fierce fire and iron extends ,
+Creatures of note for mercy-lacking uses .
+
+Well , see to live ; I will not touch thine eyes
+For all the treasure that thine uncle owes :
+Yet am I sworn and I did purpose , boy ,
+With this same very iron to burn them out .
+
+O ! now you look like Hubert , all this while
+You were disguised .
+
+Peace ! no more . Adieu .
+Your uncle must not know but you are dead ;
+I'll fill these dogged spies with false reports :
+And , pretty child , sleep doubtless and secure ,
+That Hubert for the wealth of all the world
+Will not offend thee .
+
+O heaven ! I thank you , Hubert .
+
+Silence ! no more , go closely in with me :
+Much danger do I undergo for thee .
+
+
+Here once again we sit , once again crown'd ,
+And look'd upon , I hope , with cheerful eyes .
+
+This 'once again ,' but that your highness pleas'd ,
+Was once superfluous : you were crown'd before ,
+And that high royalty was ne'er pluck'd off ,
+The faiths of men ne'er stained with revolt ;
+Fresh expectation troubled not the land
+With any long'd-for change or better state .
+
+Therefore , to be possess'd with double pomp ,
+To guard a title that was rich before ,
+To gild refined gold , to paint the lily ,
+To throw a perfume on the violet ,
+To smooth the ice , or add another hue
+Unto the rainbow , or with taper-light
+To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish ,
+Is wasteful and ridiculous excess .
+
+But that your royal pleasure must be done ,
+This act is as an ancient tale new told ,
+And in the last repeating troublesome ,
+Being urged at a time unseasonable .
+
+In this the antique and well-noted face
+Of plain old form is much disfigured ;
+And , like a shifted wind unto a sail ,
+It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about ,
+Startles and frights consideration ,
+Makes sound opinion sick and truth suspected ,
+For putting on so new a fashion'd robe .
+
+When workmen strive to do better than well
+They do confound their skill in covetousness ;
+And oftentimes excusing of a fault
+Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse :
+As patches set upon a little breach
+Discredit more in hiding of the fault
+Than did the fault before it was so patch'd .
+
+To this effect , before you were newcrown'd ,
+We breath'd our counsel : but it pleas'd your highness
+To overbear it , and we are all well pleas'd ;
+Since all and every part of what we would
+Doth make a stand at what your highness will .
+
+Some reasons of this double coronation
+I have possess'd you with and think them strong ;
+And more , more strong ,when lesser is my fear ,
+I shall indue you with : meantime but ask
+What you would have reform'd that is not well ;
+And well shall you perceive how willingly
+I will both hear and grant you your requests .
+
+Then I ,as one that am the tongue of these
+To sound the purposes of all their hearts ,
+Both for myself and them ,but , chief of all ,
+Your safety , for the which myself and them
+Bend their best studies ,heartily request
+The enfranchisement of Arthur ; whose restraint
+Doth move the murmuring lips of discontent
+To break into this dangerous argument :
+If what in rest you have in right you hold ,
+Why then your fears ,which , as they say , attend
+The steps of wrong ,should move you to mew up
+Your tender kinsman , and to choke his days
+With barbarous ignorance , and deny his youth
+The rich advantage of good exercise ?
+That the time's enemies may not have this
+To grace occasions , let it be our suit
+That you have bid us ask , his liberty ;
+Which for our goods we do no further ask
+Than whereupon our weal , on you depending ,
+Counts it your weal he have his liberty .
+
+
+Let it be so : I do commit his youth
+To your direction . Hubert , what news with you ?
+
+
+This is the man should do the bloody deed ;
+He show'd his warrant to a friend of mine :
+The image of a wicked hemous fault
+Lives in his eye ; that close aspect of his
+Does show the mood of a much troubled breast ;
+And I do fearfully believe 'tis done ,
+What we so fear'd he had a charge to do .
+
+The colour of the king doth come and go
+Between his purpose and his conscience ,
+Like heralds 'twixt two dreadful battles set :
+His passion is so ripe it needs must break .
+
+And when it breaks , I fear will issue thence
+The foul corruption of a sweet child's death .
+
+We cannot hold mortality's strong hand :
+Good lords , although my will to give is living ,
+The suit which you demand is gone and dead :
+He tells us Arthur is deceas'd to-night .
+
+Indeed we fear'd his sickness was past cure .
+
+Indeed we heard how near his death he was
+Before the child himself felt he was sick :
+This must be answer'd , either here or hence .
+
+Why do you bend such solemn brows on me ?
+Think you I bear the shears of destiny ?
+Have I commandment on the pulse of life ?
+
+It is apparent foul play ; and 'tis shame
+That greatness should so grossly offer it :
+So thrive it in your game ! and so , farewell .
+
+Stay yet , Lord Salisbury ; I'll go with thee ,
+And find the inheritance of this poor child ,
+His little kingdom of a forced grave .
+That blood which ow'd the breadth of all this isle ,
+Three foot of it doth hold : bad world the while !
+This must not be thus borne : this will break out
+To all our sorrows , and ere long I doubt .
+
+
+They burn in indignation . I repent :
+There is no sure foundation set on blood ,
+No certain life achiev'd by others' death .
+
+
+A fearful eye thou hast : where is that blood
+That I have seen inhabit in those cheeks ?
+So foul a sky clears not without a storm :
+
+Pour down thy weather : how goes all in France ?
+
+From France to England . Never such a power
+For any foreign preparation
+Was levied in the body of a land .
+The copy of your speed is learn'd by them ;
+For when you should be told they do prepare ,
+The tidings come that they are all arriv'd .
+
+O ! where hath our intelligence been drunk ?
+Where hath it slept ? Where is my mother's care
+That such an army could be drawn in France ,
+And she not hear of it ?
+
+My liege , her ear
+Is stopp'd with dust : the first of April died
+Your noble mother ; and , as I hear , my lord ,
+The Lady Constance in a frenzy died
+Three days before : but this from rumour's tongue
+I idly heard ; if true or false I know not .
+
+Withhold thy speed , dreadful occasion !
+O ! make a league with me , till I have pleas'd
+My discontented peers . What ! mother dead !
+How wildly then walks my estate in France !
+Under whose conduct came those powers of France
+That thou for truth giv'st out are landed here ?
+
+Under the Dauphin .
+
+Thou hast made me giddy
+With these ill tidings .
+
+
+Now , what says the world
+To your proceedings ? do not seek to stuff
+
+My head with more ill news , for it is full .
+
+But if you be afeard to hear the worst ,
+Then let the worst unheard fall on your head .
+
+Bear with me , cousin , for I was amaz'd
+Under the tide ; but now I breathe again
+Aloft the flood , and can give audience
+To any tongue , speak it of what it will .
+
+How I have sped among the clergymen ,
+The sums I have collected shall express .
+But as I travell'd hither through the land ,
+I find the people strangely fantasied ,
+Possess'd with rumours , full of idle dreams ,
+Not knowing what they fear , but full of fear .
+And here's a prophet that I brought with me
+From forth the streets of Pomfret , whom I found
+With many hundreds treading on his heels ;
+To whom he sung , in rude harsh-sounding rimes ,
+That , ere the next Ascension-day at noon ,
+Your highness should deliver up your crown .
+
+Thou idle dreamer , wherefore didst thou so ?
+
+Foreknowing that the truth will fall out so .
+
+Hubert , away with him ; imprison him :
+And on that day at noon , whereon , he says ,
+I shall yield up my crown , let him be hang'd .
+Deliver him to safety , and return ,
+For I must use thee .
+
+O my gentle cousin ,
+Hear'st thou the news abroad , who are arriv'd ?
+
+The French , my lord ; men's mouths are full of it :
+Besides , I met Lord Bigot and Lord Salisbury ,
+With eyes as red as new-enkindled fire ,
+And others more , going to seek the grave
+Of Arthur , whom they say is kill'd to-night
+On your suggestion .
+
+Gentle kinsman , go ,
+And thrust thyself into their companies .
+I have a way to win their loves again ;
+Bring them before me .
+
+I will seek them out .
+
+Nay , but make haste ; the better foot before .
+O ! let me have no subject enemies
+When adverse foreigners affright my towns
+With dreadful pomp of stout invasion .
+Be Mercury , set feathers to thy heels ,
+And fly like thought from them to me again .
+
+The spirit of the time shall teach me speed .
+
+Spoke like a sprightful noble gentleman .
+
+Go after him ; for he perhaps shall need
+Some messenger betwixt me and the peers ;
+And be thou he .
+
+With all my heart , my liege .
+
+
+My mother dead !
+
+
+My lord , they say five moons were seen to-night :
+Four fixed , and the fifth did whirl about
+The other four in wondrous motion .
+
+Five moons !
+
+Old men and beldams in the streets
+Do prophesy upon it dangerously :
+Young Arthur's death is common in their mouths ;
+And when they talk of him , they shake their heads
+And whisper one another in the ear ;
+And he that speaks , doth gripe the hearer's wrist
+Whilst he that hears makes fearful action ,
+With wrinkled brows , with nods , with rolling eyes .
+I saw a smith stand with his hammer , thus ,
+The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool ,
+With open mouth swallowing a tailor's news ;
+Who , with his shears and measure in his hand ,
+Standing on slippers ,which his nimble haste
+Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet ,
+Told of a many thousand warlike French ,
+That were embattailed and rank'd in Kent .
+Another lean unwash'd artificer
+Cuts off his tale and talks of Arthur's death .
+
+Why seek'st thou to possess me with these fears ?
+Why urgest thou so oft young Arthur's death ?
+Thy hand hath murder'd him : I had a mighty cause
+To wish him dead , but thou hadst none to kill him .
+
+No had , my lord ! why , did you not provoke me ?
+
+It is the curse of kings to be attended
+By slaves that take their humours for a warrant
+To break within the bloody house of life ,
+And on the winking of authority
+To understand a law , to know the meaning
+Of dangerous majesty , when , perchance , it frowns
+More upon humour than advis'd respect .
+
+Here is your hand and seal for what I did .
+
+O ! when the last account 'twixt heaven and earth
+Is to be made , then shall this hand and seal
+Witness against us to damnation .
+How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds
+Makes ill deeds done ! Hadst not thou been by ,
+A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd ,
+Quoted and sign'd to do a deed of shame ,
+This murder had not come into my mind ;
+But taking note of thy abhorr'd aspect ,
+Finding thee fit for bloody villany ,
+Apt , liable to be employ'd in danger ,
+I faintly broke with thee of Arthur's death ;
+And thou , to be endeared to a king ,
+Made it no conscience to destroy a prince .
+
+My lord ,
+
+Hadst thou but shook thy head or made a pause
+When I spake darkly what I purposed ,
+Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my face ,
+As bid me tell my tale in express words ,
+Deep shame had struck me dumb , made me break off ,
+And those thy fears might have wrought fears in me :
+But thou didst understand me by my signs
+And didst in signs again parley with sin ;
+Yea , without stop , didst let thy heart consent ,
+And consequently thy rude hand to act
+The deed which both our tongues held vile to name .
+Out of my sight , and never see me more !
+My nobles leave me ; and my state is brav'd ,
+Even at my gates , with ranks of foreign powers :
+Nay , in the body of this fleshly land ,
+This kingdom , this confine of blood and breath ,
+Hostility and civil tumult reigns
+Between my conscience and my cousin's death .
+
+Arm you against your other enemies ,
+I'll make a peace between your soul and you .
+Young Arthur is alive : this hand of mine
+Is yet a maiden and an innocent hand ,
+Not painted with the crimson spots of blood .
+Within this bosom never enter'd yet
+The dreadful motion of a murderous thought ;
+And you have slander'd nature in my form ,
+Which , howsoever rude exteriorly ,
+Is yet the cover of a fairer mind
+Than to be butcher of an innocent child .
+
+Doth Arthur live ? O ! haste thee to the peers ,
+Throw this report on their incensed rage ,
+And make them tame to their obedience .
+Forgive the comment that my passion made
+Upon thy feature ; for my rage was blind ,
+And foul imaginary eyes of blood
+Presented thee more hideous than thou art .
+O ! answer not ; but to my closet bring
+The angry lords , with all expedient haste .
+I conjure thee but slowly ; run more fast .
+
+
+The wall is high ; and yet will I leap down
+Good ground , be pitiful and hurt me not !
+There's few or none do know me ; if they did ,
+This ship-boy's semblance hath disguis'd me quite .
+I am afraid ; and yet I'll venture it .
+If I get down , and do not break my limbs ,
+I'll find a thousand shifts to get away :
+As good to die and go , as die and stay .
+
+O me ! my uncle's spirit is in these stones :
+Heaven take my soul , and England keep my bones !
+
+Lords , I will meet him at Saint Edmundsbury .
+It is our safety , and we must embrace
+This gentle offer of the perilous time .
+
+Who brought that letter from the cardinal ?
+
+The Count Melun , a noble lord of France ;
+Whose private with me of the Dauphin's love ,
+Is much more general than these lines import .
+
+To-morrow morning let us meet him then .
+
+Or rather then set forward ; for 'twill be
+Two long days' journey , lords , or e'er we meet .
+
+
+Once more to-day well met , distemper'd lords !
+The king by me requests your presence straight .
+
+The king hath dispossess'd himself of us :
+We will not line his thin bestained cloak
+With our pure honours , nor attend the foot
+That leaves the print of blood where'er it walks .
+Return and tell him so : we know the worst .
+
+Whate'er you think , good words , I think , were best .
+
+Our griefs , and not our manners , reason now .
+
+But there is little reason in your grief ;
+Therefore 'twere reason you had manners now .
+
+Sir , sir , impatience hath his privilege .
+
+'Tis true ; to hurt his master , no man else .
+
+This is the prison .
+
+What is he lies here ?
+
+O death , made proud with pure and princely beauty !
+The earth had not a hole to hide this deed .
+
+Murder , as hating what himself hath done ,
+Doth lay it open to urge on revenge .
+
+Or when he doom'd this beauty to a grave ,
+Found it too precious-princely for a grave .
+
+Sir Richard , what think you ? Have you beheld ,
+Or have you read , or heard ? or could you think ?
+Or do you almost think , although you see ,
+That you do see ? could thought , without this object ,
+Form such another ? This is the very top ,
+The height , the crest , or crest unto the crest ,
+Of murder's arms : this is the bloodiest shame ,
+The wildest savagery , the vilest stroke ,
+That ever wall-eyed wrath or staring rage
+Presented to the tears of soft remorse .
+
+All murders past do stand excus'd in this :
+And this , so sole and so unmatchable ,
+Shall give a holiness , a purity ,
+To the yet unbegotten sin of times ;
+And prove a deadly bloodshed but a jest ,
+Exampled by this heinous spectacle .
+
+It is a damned and a bloody work ;
+The graceless action of a heavy hand ,
+If that it be the work of any hand .
+
+If that it be the work of any hand !
+We had a kind of light what would ensue :
+It is the shameful work of Hubert's hand ;
+The practice and the purpose of the king :
+From whose obedience I forbid my soul ,
+Kneeling before this ruin of sweet life ,
+And breathing to his breathless excellence
+The incense of a vow , a holy vow ,
+Never to taste the pleasures of the world ,
+Never to be infected with delight ,
+Nor conversant with ease and idleness ,
+Till I have set a glory to this hand ,
+By giving it the worship of revenge .
+
+Our souls religiously confirm thy words .
+
+Our souls religiously confirm thy words .
+
+
+Lords , I am hot with haste in seeking you :
+Arthur doth live : the king hath sent for you .
+
+O ! he is bold and blushes not at death .
+Avaunt , thou hateful villain ! get thee gone .
+
+I am no villain .
+
+Must I rob the law ?
+
+Your sword is bright , sir ; put it up again .
+
+Not till I sheathe it in a murderer's skin .
+
+Stand back , Lord Salisbury , stand back , I say :
+By heaven , I think my sword's as sharp as yours .
+I would not have you , lord , forget yourself ,
+Nor tempt the danger of my true defence ;
+Lest I , by marking of your rage , forget
+Your worth , your greatness , and nobility .
+
+Out , dunghill ! dar'st thou brave a nobleman ?
+
+Not for my life ; but yet I dare defend
+My innocent life against an emperor .
+
+Thou art a murderer .
+
+Do not prove me so ;
+Yet I am none . Whose tongue soe'er speaks false ,
+Not truly speaks ; who speaks not truly , lies .
+
+Cut him to pieces .
+
+Keep the peace , I say .
+
+Stand by , or I shall gall you , Faulconbridge .
+
+Thou wert better gall the devil , Salisbury :
+If thou but frown on me , or stir thy foot ,
+Or teach thy hasty spleen to do me shame ,
+I'll strike thee dead . Put up thy sword betime :
+Or I'll so maul you and your toasting-iron ,
+That you shall think the devil is come from hell .
+
+What wilt thou do , renowned Faulconbridge ?
+Second a villain and a murderer ?
+
+Lord Bigot , I am none .
+
+Who kill'd this prince ?
+
+'Tis not an hour since I left him well :
+I honour'd him , I lov'd him ; and will weep
+My date of life out for his sweet life's loss .
+
+Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes ,
+For villany is not without such rheum ;
+And he , long traded in it , makes it seem
+Like rivers of remorse and innocency .
+Away with me , all you whose souls abhor
+The uncleanly savours of a slaughter-house ;
+For I am stifled with this smell of sin .
+
+Away toward Bury ; to the Dauphin there !
+
+There tell the king he may inquire us out .
+
+
+Here's a good world ! Knew you of this fair work ?
+Beyond the infinite and boundless reach
+Of mercy , if thou didst this deed of death ,
+Art thou damn'd , Hubert .
+
+Do but hear me , sir .
+
+Ha ! I'll tell thee what ;
+Thou art damn'd as black nay , nothing is so black ;
+Thou art more deep damn'd than Prince Lucifer :
+There is not yet so ugly a fiend of hell
+As thou shalt be , if thou didst kill this child .
+
+Upon my soul ,
+
+If thou didst but consent
+To this most cruel act , do but despair ;
+And if thou want'st a cord , the smallest thread
+That ever spider twisted from her womb
+Will serve to strangle thee ; a rush will be a beam
+To hang thee on ; or wouldst thou drown thyself ,
+Put but a little water in a spoon ,
+And it shall be as all the ocean ,
+Enough to stifle such a villain up .
+I do suspect thee very grievously .
+
+If I in act , consent , or sin of thought ,
+Be guilty of the stealing that sweet breath
+Which was embounded in this beauteous clay ,
+Let hell want pains enough to torture me .
+I left him well .
+
+Go , bear him in thine arms .
+I am amaz'd , methinks , and lose my way
+Among the thorns and dangers of this world .
+How easy dost thou take all England up !
+From forth this morsel of dead royalty ,
+The life , the right and truth of all this realm
+Is fled to heaven ; and England now is left
+To tug and scamble and to part by the teeth
+The unow'd interest of proud swelling state .
+Now for the bare-pick'd bone of majesty
+Doth dogged war bristle his angry crest ,
+And snarleth in the gentle eyes of peace :
+Now powers from home and discontents at home
+Meet in one line ; and vast confusion waits ,
+As doth a raven on a sick-fallen beast ,
+The imminent decay of wrested pomp .
+Now happy he whose cloak and ceinture can
+Hold out this tempest . Bear away that child
+And follow me with speed : I'll to the king :
+A thousand businesses are brief in hand ,
+And heaven itself doth frown upon the land .
+
+Thus have I yielded up into your hand
+The circle of my glory .
+
+Take again
+From this my hand , as holding of the pope ,
+Your sovereign greatness and authority .
+
+Now keep your holy word : go meet the French ,
+And from his holiness use all your power
+To stop their marches 'fore we are inflam'd .
+Our discontented counties do revolt ,
+Our people quarrel with obedience ,
+Swearing allegiance and the love of soul
+To stranger blood , to foreign royalty .
+This inundation of mistemper'd humour
+Rests by you only to be qualified :
+Then pause not ; for the present time's so sick ,
+That present medicine must be minister'd ,
+Or overthrow incurable ensues .
+
+It was my breath that blew this tempest up
+Upon your stubborn usage of the pope ;
+But since you are a gentle convertite ,
+My tongue shall hush again this storm of war
+And make fair weather in your blustering land .
+On this Ascension-day , remember well ,
+Upon your oath of service to the pope ,
+Go I to make the French lay down their arms .
+
+
+Is this Ascension-day ? Did not the prophet
+Say that before Ascension-day at noon
+My crown I should give off ? Even so I have :
+I did suppose it should be on constraint ;
+But , heaven be thank'd , it is but voluntary .
+
+
+All Kent hath yielded ; nothing there holds out
+But Dover Castle : London hath receiv'd ,
+Like a kind host , the Dauphin and his powers :
+Your nobles will not hear you , but are gone
+To offer service to your enemy ;
+And wild amazement hurries up and down
+The little number of your doubtful friends .
+
+Would not my lords return to me again
+After they heard young Arthur was alive ?
+
+They found him dead and cast into the streets ,
+An empty casket , where the jewel of life
+By some damn'd hand was robb'd and ta'en away .
+
+That villain Hubert told me he did live .
+
+So , on my soul , he did , for aught he knew .
+But wherefore do you droop ? why look you sad ?
+Be great in act , as you have been in thought ;
+Let not the world see fear and sad distrust
+Govern the motion of a kingly eye :
+Be stirring as the time ; be fire with fire ;
+Threaten the threatener , and outface the brow
+Of bragging horror : so shall inferior eyes ,
+That borrow their behaviours from the great ,
+Grow great by your example and put on
+The dauntless spirit of resolution .
+Away ! and glister like the god of war
+When he intendeth to become the field :
+Show boldness and aspiring confidence .
+What ! shall they seek the lion in his den
+And fright him there ? and make him tremble there ?
+O ! let it not be said . Forage , and run
+To meet displeasure further from the doors ,
+And grapple with him ere he comes so nigh .
+
+The legate of the pope hath been with me ,
+And I have made a happy peace with him ;
+And he hath promis'd to dismiss the powers
+Led by the Dauphin .
+
+O inglorious league !
+Shall we , upon the footing of our land ,
+Send fair-play orders and make compromise ,
+Insinuation , parley and base truce
+To arms invasive ? shall a beardless boy ,
+A cocker'd silken wanton , brave our fields ,
+And flesh his spirit in a war-like soul ,
+Mocking the air with colours idly spread ,
+And find no check ? Let us , my liege , to arms :
+Perchance the cardinal cannot make your peace ;
+Or if he do , let it at least be said
+They saw we had a purpose of defence .
+
+Have thou the ordering of this present time .
+
+Away then , with good courage ! yet , I know ,
+Our party may well meet a prouder foe .
+
+
+My Lord Melun , let this be copied out ,
+And keep it safe for our remembrance .
+Return the precedent to these lords again ;
+That , having our fair order written down ,
+Both they and we , perusing o'er these notes ,
+May know wherefore we took the sacrament ,
+And keep our faiths firm and inviolable .
+
+Upon our sides it never shall be broken .
+And , noble Dauphin , albeit we swear
+A voluntary zeal , an unurg'd faith
+To your proceedings ; yet , believe me , prince ,
+I am not glad that such a sore of time
+Should seek a plaster by contemn'd revolt ,
+And heal the inveterate canker of one wound
+By making many . O ! it grieves my soul
+That I must draw this metal from my side
+To be a widow-maker ! O ! and there
+Where honourable rescue and defence
+Cries out upon the name of Salisbury .
+But such is the infection of the time ,
+That , for the health and physic of our right ,
+We cannot deal but with the very hand
+Of stern injustice and confused wrong .
+And is't not pity , O my grieved friends !
+That we , the sons and children of this isle ,
+Were born to see so sad an hour as this ;
+Wherein we step after a stranger march
+Upon her gentle bosom , and fill up
+Her enemies' ranks ,I must withdraw and weep
+Upon the spot of this enforced cause ,
+To grace the gentry of a land remote ,
+And follow unacquainted colours here ?
+What , here ? O nation ! that thou couldst remove ;
+That Neptune's arms , who clippeth thee about ,
+Would bear thee from the knowledge of thyself ,
+And gripple thee unto a pagan shore ;
+Where these two Christian armies might combine
+The blood of malice in a vein of league ,
+And not to spend it so unneighbourly !
+
+A noble temper dost thou show in this ;
+And great affections wrestling in thy bosom
+Do make an earthquake of nobility .
+O ! what a noble combat hast thou fought
+Between compulsion and a brave respect .
+Let me wipe off this honourable dew ,
+That silverly doth progress on thy cheeks :
+My heart hath melted at a lady's tears ,
+Being an ordinary inundation ;
+But this effusion of such manly drops ,
+This shower , blown up by tempest of the soul ,
+Startles mine eyes , and makes me more amaz'd
+Than had I seen the vaulty top of heaven
+Figur'd quite o'er with burning meteors .
+Lift up thy brow , renowned Salisbury ,
+And with a great heart heave away this storm :
+Commend these waters to those baby eyes
+That never saw the giant world enrag'd ;
+Nor met with fortune other than at feasts ,
+Full warm of blood , of mirth , of gossiping .
+Come , come ; for thou shalt thrust thy hand as deep
+Into the purse of rich prosperity
+As Lewis himself : so , nobles , shall you all ,
+That knit your sinews to the strength of mine .
+
+
+And even there , methinks , an angel spake :
+Look , where the holy legate comes apace ,
+To give us warrant from the hand of heaven ,
+And on our actions set the name of right
+
+With holy breath .
+
+Hail , noble prince of France !
+The next is this : King John hath reconcil'd
+Himself to Rome ; his spirit is come in
+That so stood out against the holy church ,
+The great metropolis and see of Rome .
+Therefore thy threat'ning colours now wind up ,
+And tame the savage spirit of wild war ,
+That , like a lion foster'd up at hand ,
+It may lie gently at the foot of peace ,
+And be no further harmful than in show .
+
+Your grace shall pardon me ; I will not back :
+I am too high-born to be propertied ,
+To be a secondary at control ,
+Or useful serving-man and instrument
+To any sovereign state throughout the world .
+Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars
+Between this chastis'd kingdom and myself ,
+And brought in matter that should feed this fire ;
+And now 'tis far too huge to be blown out
+With that same weak wind which enkindled it .
+You taught me how to know the face of right ,
+Acquainted me with interest to this land ,
+Yea , thrust this enterprise into my heart ;
+And come you now to tell me John hath made
+His peace with Rome ? What is that peace to me ?
+I , by the honour of my marriage-bed ,
+After young Arthur , claim this land for mine ;
+And , now it is half-conquer'd , must I back
+Because that John hath made his peace with Rome ?
+Am I Rome's slave ? What penny hath Rome borne ,
+What men provided , what munition sent ,
+To underprop this action ? is't not I
+That undergo this charge ? who else but I ,
+And such as to my claim are liable ,
+Sweat in this business and maintain this war ?
+Have I not heard these islanders shout out ,
+Vive le roy ! as I have bank'd their towns ?
+Have I not here the best cards for the game
+To win this easy match play'd for a crown ?
+And shall I now give o'er the yielded set ?
+No , no , on my soul , it never shall be said .
+
+You look but on the outside of this work .
+
+Outside or inside , I will not return
+Till my attempt so much be glorified
+As to my ample hope was promised
+Before I drew this gallant head of war ,
+And cull'd these fiery spirits from the world ,
+To outlook conquest and to win renown
+Even in the jaws of danger and of death .
+
+What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us ?
+
+
+According to the fair play of the world ,
+Let me have audience ; I am sent to speak :
+My holy Lord of Milan , from the king
+I come , to learn how you have dealt for him ;
+And , as you answer , I do know the scope
+And warrant limited unto my tongue .
+
+The Dauphin is too wilful-opposite ,
+And will not temporize with my entreaties :
+He flatly says he'll not lay down his arms .
+
+By all the blood that ever fury breath'd ,
+The youth says well . Now hear our English king ;
+For thus his royalty doth speak in me .
+He is prepar'd ; and reason too he should :
+This apish and unmannerly approach ,
+This harness'd masque and unadvised revel ,
+This unhair'd sauciness and boyish troops ,
+The king doth smile at ; and is well prepar'd
+To whip this dwarfish war , these pigmy arms ,
+From out the circle of his territories .
+That hand which had the strength , even at your door ,
+To cudgel you and make you take the hatch ;
+To dive , like buckets , in concealed wells ;
+To crouch in litter of your stable planks :
+To lie like pawns lock'd up in chests and trunks ;
+To hug with swine ; to seek sweet safety out
+In vaults and prisons ; and to thrill and shake ,
+Even at the crying of your nation's crow ,
+Thinking this voice an armed Englishman :
+Shall that victorious hand be feebled here
+That in your chambers gave you chastisement ?
+No ! Know , the gallant monarch is in arms ,
+And like an eagle o'er his aiery towers ,
+To souse annoyance that comes near his nest .
+And you degenerate , you ingrate revolts ,
+You bloody Neroes , ripping up the womb
+Of your dear mother England , blush for shame :
+For your own ladies and pale-visag'd maids
+Like Amazons come tripping after drums ,
+Their thimbles into armed gauntlets change ,
+Their neelds to lances , and their gentle hearts
+To fierce and bloody inclination .
+
+There end thy brave , and turn thy face in peace ;
+We grant thou canst outscold us : fare thee well ;
+We hold our time too precious to be spent
+With such a brabbler .
+
+Give me leave to speak .
+
+No , I will speak .
+
+We will attend to neither .
+Strike up the drums ; and let the tongue of war
+Plead for our interest and our being here .
+
+Indeed , your drums , being beaten , will cry out ;
+And so shall you , being beaten . Do but start
+An echo with the clamour of thy drum ,
+And even at hand a drum is ready brac'd
+That shall reverberate all as loud as thine ;
+Sound but another , and another shall
+As loud as thine rattle the welkin's ear
+And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder : for at hand ,
+Not trusting to this halting legate here ,
+Whom he hath us'd rather for sport than need ,
+Is warlike John ; and in his forehead sits
+A bare-ribb'd death , whose office is this day
+To feast upon whole thousands of the French .
+
+Strike up our drums , to find this danger out .
+
+And thou shalt find it , Dauphin , do not doubt .
+
+
+How goes the day with us ? O ! tell me , Hubert .
+
+Badly , I fear . How fares your majesty ?
+
+This fever , that hath troubled me so long ,
+Lies heavy on me : O ! my heart is sick .
+
+
+My lord , your valiant kinsman , Faulconbridge ,
+Desires your majesty to leave the field ,
+And send him word by me which way you go .
+
+Tell him , toward Swinstead , to the abbey there .
+
+Be of good comfort : for the great supply
+That was expected by the Dauphin here ,
+Are wrack'd three nights ago on Goodwin sands .
+This news was brought to Richard but even now .
+The French fight coldly , and retire themselves .
+
+Ay me ! this tyrant fever burns me up ,
+And will not let me welcome this good news .
+Set on toward Swinstead : to my litter straight ;
+Weakness possesseth me , and I am faint .
+
+
+I did not think the king so stor'd with friends .
+
+Up once again ; put spirit in the French :
+If they miscarry we miscarry too .
+
+That misbegotten devil , Faulconbridge ,
+In spite of spite , alone upholds the day .
+
+They say King John , sore sick , hath left the field .
+
+
+Lead me to the revolts of England here .
+
+When we were happy we had other names .
+
+It is the Count Melun .
+
+Wounded to death .
+
+Fly , noble English ; you are bought and sold ;
+Unthread the rude eye of rebellion ,
+And welcome home again discarded faith .
+Seek out King John and fall before his feet ;
+For if the French be lords of this loud day ,
+He means to recompense the pains you take
+By cutting off your heads . Thus hath he sworn ,
+And I with him , and many moe with me ,
+Upon the altar at Saint Edmundsbury ;
+Even on that altar where we swore to you
+Dear amity and everlasting love .
+
+May this be possible ? may this be true ?
+
+Have I not hideous death within my view ,
+Retaining but a quantity of life ,
+Which bleeds away , even as a form of wax
+Resolveth from his figure 'gainst the fire ?
+What in the world should make me now deceive ,
+Since I must lose the use of all deceit ?
+Why should I then be false , since it is true
+That I must die here and live hence by truth ?
+I say again , if Lewis do win the day ,
+He is forsworn , if e'er those eyes of yours
+Behold another day break in the east :
+But even this night , whose black contagious breath
+Already smokes about the burning crest
+Of the old , feeble , and day-wearied sun ,
+Even this ill night , your breathing shall expire ,
+Paying the fine of rated treachery
+Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives ,
+If Lewis by your assistance win the day .
+Commend me to one Hubert with your king ;
+The love of him , and this respect besides ,
+For that my grandsire was an Englishman ,
+Awakes my conscience to confess all this .
+In lieu whereof , I pray you , bear me hence
+From forth the noise and rumour of the field ,
+Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts
+In peace , and part this body and my soul
+With contemplation and devout desires .
+
+We do believe thee : and beshrew my soul
+But I do love the favour and the form
+Of this most fair occasion , by the which
+We will untread the steps of damned flight ,
+And like a bated and retired flood ,
+Leaving our rankness and irregular course ,
+Stoop low within those bounds we have o'erlook'd ,
+And calmly run on in obedience ,
+Even to our ocean , to our great King John .
+My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence ,
+For I do see the cruel pangs of death
+Right in thine eye . Away , my friends ! New flight ;
+And happy newness , that intends old right .
+
+
+The sun of heaven methought was loath to set ,
+But stay'd and made the western welkin blush ,
+When the English measur'd backward their own ground
+In faint retire . O ! bravely came we off ,
+When with a volley of our needless shot ,
+After such bloody toil , we bid good night ,
+And wound our tottering colours clearly up ,
+Last in the field , and almost lords of it !
+
+
+Where is my prince , the Dauphin ?
+
+Here : what news ?
+
+The Count Melun is slain ; the English lords ,
+By his persuasion , are again fall'n off ;
+And your supply , which you have wish'd so long ,
+Are cast away and sunk , on Goodwin sands .
+
+Ah , foul shrewd news ! Beshrew thy very heart !
+I did not think to be so sad to-night
+As this hath made me . Who was he that said
+King John did fly an hour or two before
+The stumbling night did part our weary powers ?
+
+Whoever spoke it , it is true , my lord .
+
+Well ; keep good quarter and good care to-night :
+The day shall not be up so soon as I ,
+To try the fair adventure of to-morrow .
+
+
+Who's there ? speak , ho ! speak quickly , or I shoot .
+
+A friend . What art thou ?
+
+Of the part of England .
+
+Whither dost thou go ?
+
+What's that to thee ? Why may not I demand
+Of thine affairs as well as thou of mine ?
+
+Hubert , I think ?
+
+Thou hast a perfect thought :
+I will upon all hazards well believe
+Thou art my friend , that know'st my tongue so well .
+Who art thou ?
+
+Who thou wilt : and if thou please ,
+Thou mayst befriend me so much as to think
+I come one way of the Plantagenets .
+
+Unkind remembrance ! thou and eyeless night
+Have done me shame : brave soldier , pardon me ,
+That any accent breaking from thy tongue
+Should 'scape the true acquaintance of mine ear .
+
+Come , come ; sans compliment , what news abroad ?
+
+Why , here walk I in the black brow of night ,
+To find you out .
+
+Brief , then ; and what's the news ?
+
+O ! my sweet sir , news fitting to the night ,
+Black , fearful , comfortless , and horrible .
+
+Show me the very wound of this ill news :
+I am no woman ; I'll not swound at it .
+
+The king , I fear , is poison'd by a monk :
+I left him almost speechless ; and broke out
+To acquaint you with this evil , that you might
+The better arm you to the sudden time
+Than if you had at leisure known of this .
+
+How did he take it ? who did taste to him ?
+
+A monk , I tell you ; a resolved villain ,
+Whose bowels suddenly burst out : the king
+Yet speaks , and peradventure may recover .
+
+Whom didst thou leave to tend his majesty ?
+
+Why , know you not ? the lords are all come back ,
+And brought Prince Henry in their company ;
+At whose request the king hath pardon'd them ,
+And they are all about his majesty .
+
+Withhold thine indignation , mighty heaven ,
+And tempt us not to bear above our power !
+I'll tell thee , Hubert , half my power this night ,
+Passing these flats , are taken by the tide ;
+These Lincoln Washes have devoured them :
+Myself , well-mounted , hardly have escap'd .
+Away before ! conduct me to the king ;
+I doubt he will be dead or ere I come .
+
+
+It is too late : the life of all his blood
+Is touch'd corruptibly ; and his pure brain ,
+Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling-house ,
+Doth , by the idle comments that it makes ,
+Foretell the ending of mortality .
+
+
+His highness yet doth speak ; and holds belief
+That , being brought into the open air ,
+It would allay the burning quality
+Of that fell poison which assaileth him .
+
+Let him be brought into the orchard here .
+Doth he still rage ?
+
+
+He is more patient
+Than when you left him : even now he sung .
+
+O , vanity of sickness ! fierce extremes
+In their continuance will not feel themselves .
+Death , having prey'd upon the outward parts ,
+Leaves them invisible ; and his siege is now
+Against the mind , the which he pricks and wounds
+With many legions of strange fantasies ,
+Which , in their throng and press to that last hold ,
+Confound themselves . 'Tis strange that death should sing .
+I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan ,
+Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death ,
+And from the organ-pipe of frailty sings
+His soul and body to their lasting rest
+
+Be of good comfort , prince ; for you are born
+To set a form upon that indigest
+Which he hath left so shapeless and so rude .
+
+
+Ay , marry , now my soul hath elbow-room ;
+It would not out at windows , nor at doors .
+There is so hot a summer in my bosom
+That all my bowels crumble up to dust :
+I am a scribbled form , drawn with a pen
+Upon a parchment , and against this fire
+Do I shrink up .
+
+How fares your majesty ?
+
+Poison'd , ill-fare ; dead , forsook , cast off ;
+And none of you will bid the winter come
+To thrust his icy fingers in my maw ;
+Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course
+Through my burn'd bosom ; nor entreat the north
+To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips
+And comfort me with cold . I do not ask you much :
+I beg cold comfort ; and you are so strait
+And so ingrateful you deny me that .
+
+O ! that there were some virtue in my tears ,
+That might relieve you .
+
+The salt in them is hot .
+Within me is a hell ; and there the poison
+Is as a fiend confin'd to tyrannize
+On unreprievable condemned blood .
+
+
+O ! I am scalded with my violent motion
+And spleen of speed to see your majesty .
+
+O cousin ! thou art come to set mine eye :
+The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burn'd ,
+And all the shrouds wherewith my life should sail
+Are turned to one thread , one little hair ;
+My heart hath one poor string to stay it by ,
+Which holds but till thy news be uttered ;
+And then all this thou seest is but a clod
+And module of confounded royalty .
+
+The Dauphin is preparing hitherward ,
+Where heaven he knows how we shall answer him :
+For in a night the best part of my power ,
+As I upon advantage did remove ,
+Were in the Washes all unwarily
+Devoured by the unexpected flood .
+
+
+You breathe these dead news in as dead an ear .
+My liege ! my lord ! But now a king , now thus .
+
+Even so must I run on , and even so stop .
+What surety of the world , what hope , what stay ,
+When this was now a king , and now is clay ?
+
+Art thou gone so ? I do but stay behind
+To do the office for thee of revenge ,
+And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven ,
+As it on earth hath been thy servant still .
+Now , now , you stars , that move in your right spheres ,
+Where be your powers ? Show now your mended faiths ,
+And instantly return with me again ,
+To push destruction and perpetual shame
+Out of the weak door of our fainting land .
+Straight let us seek , or straight we shall be sought :
+The Dauphin rages at our very heels .
+
+It seems you know not then so much as we .
+The Cardinal Pandulph is within at rest ,
+Who half an hour since came from the Dauphin ,
+And brings from him such offers of our peace
+As we with honour and respect may take ,
+With purpose presently to leave this war .
+
+He will the rather do it when he sees
+Ourselves well sinewed to our defence .
+
+Nay , it is in a manner done already ;
+For many carriages he hath dispatch'd
+To the sea-side , and put his cause and quarrel
+To the disposing of the cardinal :
+With whom yourself , myself , and other lords ,
+If you think meet , this afternoon will post
+To consummate this business happily .
+
+Let it be so . And you , my noble prince ,
+With other princes that may best be spar'd ,
+Shall wait upon your father's funeral .
+
+At Worcester must his body be interr'd ;
+For so he will'd it .
+
+Thither shall it then .
+And happily may your sweet self put on
+The lineal state and glory of the land !
+To whom , with all submission , on my knee ,
+I do bequeath my faithful services
+And true subjection everlastingly .
+
+And the like tender of our love we make ,
+To rest without a spot for evermore .
+
+I have a kind soul that would give you thanks ,
+And knows not how to do it but with tears .
+
+O ! let us pay the time but needful woe
+Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs .
+This England never did , nor never shall ,
+Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror ,
+But when it first did help to wound itself .
+Now these her princes are come home again ,
+Come the three corners of the world in arms ,
+And we shall shock them . Nought shall make us rue ,
+If England to itself do rest but true .
+
+THE LIFE OF KING HENRY V
+
+Chorus .
+
+O ! for a Muse of fire , that would ascend
+The brightest heaven of invention ;
+A kingdom for a stage , princes to act
+And monarchs to behold the swelling scene .
+Then should the war-like Harry , like himself ,
+Assume the port of Mars ; and at his heels ,
+Leash'd in like hounds , should famine , sword , and fire
+Crouch for employment . But pardon , gentles all ,
+The flat unraised spirits that hath dar'd
+On this unworthy scaffold to bring forth
+So great an object : can this cockpit hold
+The vasty fields of France ? or may we cram
+Within this wooden O the very casques
+That did affright the air at Agincourt ?
+O , pardon ! since a crooked figure may
+Attest in little place a million ;
+And let us , ciphers to this great accompt ,
+On your imaginary forces work .
+Suppose within the girdle of these walls
+Are now confin'd two mighty monarchies ,
+Whose high upreared and abutting fronts
+The perilous narrow ocean parts asunder :
+Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts :
+Into a thousand parts divide one man ,
+And make imaginary puissance ;
+Think when we talk of horses that you see them
+Printing their proud hoofs i' the receiving earth ;
+For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings ,
+Carry them here and there , jumping o'er times ,
+Turning the accomplishment of many years
+Into an hour-glass : for the which supply ,
+Admit me Chorus to this history ;
+Who prologue-like your humble patience pray ,
+Gently to hear , kindly to judge , our play .
+
+
+My lord , I'll tell you ; that self bill is urg'd ,
+Which in th' eleventh year of the last king's reign
+Was like , and had indeed against us pass'd ,
+But that the scambling and unquiet time
+Did push it out of further question .
+
+But how , my lord , shall we resist it now ?
+
+It must be thought on . If it pass against us ,
+We lose the better half of our possession ;
+For all the temporal lands which men devout
+By testament have given to the church
+Would they strip from us ; being valu'd thus :
+As much as would maintain , to the king's honour ,
+Full fifteen earls and fifteen hundred knights ,
+Six thousand and two hundred good esquires ;
+And , to relief of lazars and weak age ,
+Of indigent faint souls past corporal toil ,
+A hundred almshouses right well supplied ;
+And to the coffers of the king beside ,
+A thousand pounds by the year . Thus runs the bill .
+
+This would drink deep .
+
+'Twould drink the cup and all .
+
+But what prevention ?
+
+The king is full of grace and fair regard .
+
+And a true lover of the holy church .
+
+The courses of his youth promis'd it not .
+The breath no sooner left his father's body
+But that his wildness , mortified in him ,
+Seem'd to die too ; yea , at that very moment ,
+Consideration like an angel came ,
+And whipp'd the offending Adam out of him ,
+Leaving his body as a paradise ,
+To envelop and contain celestial spirits .
+Never was such a sudden scholar made ;
+Never came reformation in a flood ,
+With such a heady currance , scouring faults ;
+Nor never Hydra-headed wilfulness
+So soon did lose his seat and all at once
+As in this king .
+
+We are blessed in the change .
+
+Hear him but reason in divinity ,
+And , all-admiring , with an inward wish
+You would desire the king were made a prelate :
+Hear him debate of commonwealth affairs ,
+You would say it hath been all in all his study :
+List his discourse of war , and you shall hear
+A fearful battle render'd you in music :
+Turn him to any cause of policy ,
+The Gordian knot of it he will unloose ,
+Familiar as his garter ; that , when he speaks ,
+The air , a charter'd libertine , is still ,
+And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears ,
+To steal his sweet and honey'd sentences ;
+So that the art and practic part of life
+Must be the mistress to this theoric :
+Which is a wonder how his Grace should glean it ,
+Since his addiction was to courses vain ;
+His companies unletter'd , rude , and shallow ;
+His hours fill'd up with riots , banquets , sports ;
+And never noted in him any study ,
+Any retirement , any sequestration
+From open haunts and popularity .
+
+The strawberry grows underneath the nettle ,
+And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best
+Neighbour'd by fruit of baser quality :
+And so the prince obscur'd his contemplation
+Under the veil of wildness ; which , no doubt ,
+Grew like the summer grass , fastest by night ,
+Unseen , yet crescive in his faculty .
+
+It must be so ; for miracles are ceas'd ;
+And therefore we must needs admit the means
+How things are perfected .
+
+But , my good lord ,
+How now for mitigation of this bill
+Urg'd by the commons ? Doth his majesty
+Incline to it , or no ?
+
+He seems indifferent ,
+Or rather swaying more upon our part
+Than cherishing the exhibiters against us ;
+For I have made an offer to his majesty ,
+Upon our spiritual convocation ,
+And in regard of causes now in hand ,
+Which I have open'd to his Grace at large ,
+As touching France , to give a greater sum
+Than ever at one time the clergy yet
+Did to his predecessors part withal .
+
+How did this offer seem receiv'd , my lord ?
+
+With good acceptance of his majesty ;
+Save that there was not time enough to hear ,
+As I perceiv'd his Grace would fain have done ,
+The severals and unhidden passages
+Of his true titles to some certain dukedoms ,
+And generally to the crown and seat of France ,
+Deriv'd from Edward , his great-grandfather .
+
+What was the impediment that broke this off ?
+
+The French ambassador upon that instant
+Crav'd audience ; and the hour I think is come
+To give him hearing : is it four o'clock ?
+
+It is .
+
+Then go we in to know his embassy ;
+Which I could with a ready guess declare
+Before the Frenchman speak a word of it .
+
+I'll wait upon you , and I long to hear it .
+
+
+Where is my gracious lord of Canterbury ?
+
+Not here in presence .
+
+Send for him , good uncle .
+
+Shall we call in the ambassador , my liege ?
+
+Not yet , my cousin : we would be resolv'd ,
+Before we hear him , of some things of weight
+That task our thoughts , concerning us and France .
+
+
+God and his angels guard your sacred throne ,
+And make you long become it !
+
+Sure , we thank you .
+My learned lord , we pray you to proceed ,
+And justly and religiously unfold
+Why the law Salique that they have in France
+Or should , or should not , bar us in our claim .
+And God forbid , my dear and faithful lord ,
+That you should fashion , wrest , or bow your reading ,
+Or nicely charge your understanding soul
+With opening titles miscreate , whose right
+Suits not in native colours with the truth ;
+For God doth know how many now in health
+Shall drop their blood in approbation
+Of what your reverence shall incite us to .
+Therefore take heed how you impawn our person ,
+How you awake the sleeping sword of war :
+We charge you in the name of God , take heed ;
+For never two such kingdoms did contend
+Without much fall of blood ; whose guiltless drops
+Are every one a woe , a sore complaint ,
+'Gainst him whose wrongs give edge unto the swords
+That make such waste in brief mortality .
+Under this conjuration speak , my lord ,
+And we will hear , note , and believe in heart ,
+That what you speak is in your conscience wash'd
+As pure as sin with baptism .
+
+Then hear me , gracious sovereign , and you peers ,
+That owe yourselves , your lives , and services
+To this imperial throne . There is no bar
+To make against your highness' claim to France
+But this , which they produce from Pharamond ,
+In terram Salicam mulieres ne succedant ,
+'No woman shall succeed in Salique land :'
+Which Salique land the French unjustly gloze
+To be the realm of France , and Pharamond
+The founder of this law and female bar .
+Yet their own authors faithfully affirm
+That the land Salique is in Germany ,
+Between the floods of Sala and of Elbe ;
+Where Charles the Great , having subdu'd the Saxons ,
+There left behind and settled certain French ;
+Who , holding in disdain the German women
+For some dishonest manners of their life ,
+Establish'd then this law ; to wit , no female
+Should be inheritrix in Salique land :
+Which Salique , as I said , 'twixt Elbe and Sala ,
+Is at this day in Germany call'd Meisen .
+Then doth it well appear the Salique law
+Was not devised for the realm of France ;
+Nor did the French possess the Salique land
+Until four hundred one-and-twenty years
+After defunction of King Pharamond ,
+Idly suppos'd the founder of this law ;
+Who died within the year of our redemption
+Four hundred twenty-six ; and Charles the Great
+Subdu'd the Saxons , and did seat the French
+Beyond the river Sala , in the year
+Eight hundred five . Besides , their writers say ,
+King Pepin , which deposed Childeric ,
+Did , as heir general , being descended
+Of Blithild , which was daughter to King Clothair ,
+Make claim and title to the crown of France .
+Hugh Capet also , who usurp'd the crown
+Of Charles the Duke of Loraine , sole heir male
+Of the true line and stock of Charles the Great ,
+To find his title with some shows of truth ,
+Though in pure truth , it was corrupt and naught ,
+Convey'd himself as heir to the Lady Lingare ,
+Daughter to Charlemain , who was the son
+To Lewis the emperor , and Lewis the son
+Of Charles the Great . Also King Lewis the Tenth ,
+Who was sole heir to the usurper Capet ,
+Could not keep quiet in his conscience ,
+Wearing the crown of France , till satisfied
+That fair Queen Isabel , his grandmother ,
+Was lineal of the Lady Ermengare ,
+Daughter to Charles the aforesaid Duke of Loraine :
+By the which marriage the line of Charles the Great
+Was re-united to the crown of France .
+So that , as clear as is the summer's sun ,
+King Pepin's title , and Hugh Capet's claim ,
+King Lewis his satisfaction , all appear
+To hold in right and title of the female :
+So do the kings of France unto this day ;
+Howbeit they would hold up this Salique law
+To bar your highness claiming from the female ;
+And rather choose to hide them in a net
+Than amply to imbar their crooked titles
+Usurp'd from you and your progenitors .
+
+May I with right and conscience make this claim ?
+
+The sin upon my head , dread sovereign !
+For in the book of Numbers is it writ :
+'When the son dies , let the inheritance
+Descend unto the daughter .' Gracious lord ,
+Stand for your own ; unwind your bloody flag ;
+Look back into your mighty ancestors :
+Go , my dread lord , to your great-grandsire's tomb ,
+From whom you claim ; invoke his war-like spirit ,
+And your great-uncle's , Edward the Black Prince ,
+Who on the French ground play'd a tragedy ,
+Making defeat on the full power of France ;
+Whiles his most mighty father on a hill
+Stood smiling to behold his lion's whelp
+Forage in blood of French nobility .
+O noble English ! that could entertain
+With half their forces the full pride of France ,
+And let another half stand laughing by ,
+All out of work , and cold for action .
+
+Awake remembrance of these valiant dead ,
+And with your puissant arm renew their feats :
+You are their heir , you sit upon their throne ,
+The blood and courage that renowned them
+Runs in your veins ; and my thrice-puissantliege
+Is in the very May-morn of his youth ,
+Ripe for exploits and mighty enterprises .
+
+Your brother kings and monarchs of the earth
+Do all expect that you should rouse yourself ,
+As did the former lions of your blood .
+
+They know your Grace hath cause and means and might ;
+So hath your highness ; never King of England
+Had nobles richer , and more loyal subjects ,
+Whose hearts have left their bodies here in England
+And lie pavilion'd in the fields of France .
+
+O ! let their bodies follow , my dear liege ,
+With blood and sword and fire to win your right ;
+In aid whereof we of the spiritualty
+Will raise your highness such a mighty sum
+As never did the clergy at one time
+Bring in to any of your ancestors .
+
+We must not only arm to invade the French ,
+But lay down our proportions to defend
+Against the Scot , who will make road upon us
+With all advantages .
+
+They of those marches , gracious sovereign ,
+Shall be a wall sufficient to defend
+Our inland from the pilfering borderers .
+
+We do not mean the coursing snatchers only ,
+But fear the main intendment of the Scot ,
+Who hath been still a giddy neighbour to us ;
+For you shall read that my great-grandfather
+Never went with his forces into France
+But that the Scot on his unfurnish'd kingdom
+Came pouring , like the tide into a breach ,
+With ample and brim fulness of his force ,
+Galling the gleaned land with hot essays ,
+Girding with grievous siege castles and towns ;
+That England , being empty of defence ,
+Hath shook and trembled at the ill neighbourhood .
+
+She hath been then more fear'd than harm'd , my liege ;
+For hear her but exampled by herself :
+When all her chivalry hath been in France
+And she a mourning widow of her nobles ,
+She hath herself not only well defended ,
+But taken and impounded as a stray
+The King of Scots ; whom she did send to France ,
+To fill King Edward's fame with prisoner kings ,
+And make your chronicle as rich with praise
+As is the owse and bottom of the sea
+With sunken wrack and sumless treasuries .
+
+But there's a saying very old and true ;
+
+If that you will France win ,
+Then with Scotland first begin :
+
+For once the eagle England being in prey ,
+To her unguarded nest the weasel Scot
+Comes sneaking and so sucks her princely eggs ,
+Playing the mouse in absence of the cat ,
+To tear and havoc more than she can eat .
+
+It follows then the cat must stay at home :
+Yet that is but a crush'd necessity ;
+Since we have locks to safeguard necessaries
+And pretty traps to catch the petty thieves .
+While that the armed hand doth fight abroad
+The advised head defends itself at home :
+For government , though high and low and lower ,
+Put into parts , doth keep in one consent ,
+Congreeing in a full and natural close ,
+Like music .
+
+Therefore doth heaven divide
+The state of man in divers functions ,
+Setting endeavour in continual motion ;
+To which is fixed , as an aim or butt ,
+Obedience : for so work the honey-bees ,
+Creatures that by a rule in nature teach
+The act of order to a peopled kingdom .
+They have a king and officers of sorts ;
+Where some , like magistrates , correct at home ,
+Others , like merchants , venture trade abroad ,
+Others , like soldiers , armed in their stings ,
+Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds ;
+Which pillage they with merry march bring home
+To the tent-royal of their emperor :
+Who , busied in his majesty , surveys
+The singing masons building roofs of gold ,
+The civil citizens kneading up the honey ,
+The poor mechanic porters crowding in
+Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate ,
+The sad-ey'd justice , with his surly hum ,
+Delivering o'er to executors pale
+The lazy yawning drone . I this infer ,
+That many things , having full reference
+To one consent , may work contrariously ;
+As many arrows , loosed several ways ,
+Fly to one mark ; as many ways meet in one town ;
+As many fresh streams meet in one salt sea ;
+As many lines close in the dial's centre ;
+So may a thousand actions , once afoot ,
+End in one purpose , and be all well borne
+Without defeat . Therefore to France , my liege .
+Divide your happy England into four ;
+Whereof take you one quarter into France ,
+And you withal shall make all Gallia shake .
+If we , with thrice such powers left at home ,
+Cannot defend our own doors from the dog ,
+Let us be worried and our nation lose
+The name of hardiness and policy .
+
+Call in the messengers sent from the Dauphin .
+
+Now are we well resolv'd ; and by God's help ,
+And yours , the noble sinews of our power ,
+France being ours , we'll bend it to our awe
+Or break it all to pieces : or there we'll sit ,
+Ruling in large and ample empery
+O'er France and all her almost kingly dukedoms ,
+Or lay these bones in an unworthy urn ,
+Tombless , with no remembrance over them :
+Either our history shall with full mouth
+Speak freely of our acts , or else our grave ,
+Like Turkish mute , shall have a tongueless mouth ,
+Not worshipp'd with a waxen epitaph .
+
+
+Now are we well prepar'd to know the pleasure
+Of our fair cousin Dauphin ; for we hear
+
+Your greeting is from him , not from the king .
+
+May't please your majesty to give us leave
+Freely to render what we have in charge ;
+Or shall we sparingly show you far off
+The Dauphin's meaning and our embassy ?
+
+We are no tyrant , but a Christian king ;
+Unto whose grace our passion is as subject
+As are our wretches fetter'd in our prisons :
+Therefore with frank and with uncurbed plainness
+Tell us the Dauphin's mind .
+
+Thus then , in few .
+Your highness , lately sending into France ,
+Did claim some certain dukedoms , in the right
+Of your great predecessor , King Edward the Third .
+In answer of which claim , the prince our master
+Says that you savour too much of your youth ,
+And bids you be advis'd there's nought in France
+That can be with a nimble galliard won ;
+You cannot revel into dukedoms there .
+He therefore sends you , meeter for your spirit ,
+This tun of treasure ; and , in lieu of this ,
+Desires you let the dukedoms that you claim
+Hear no more of you . This the Dauphin speaks .
+
+What treasure , uncle ?
+
+Tennis-balls , my liege .
+
+We are glad the Dauphin is so pleasant with us :
+His present and your pains we thank you for :
+When we have match'd our rackets to these balls ,
+We will in France , by God's grace , play a set
+Shall strike his father's crown into the hazard .
+Tell him he hath made a match with such a wrangler
+That all the courts of France will be disturb'd
+With chaces . And we understand him well ,
+How he comes o'er us with our wilder days ,
+Not measuring what use we made of them .
+We never valu'd this poor seat of England ;
+And therefore , living hence , did give ourself
+To barbarous licence ; as 'tis ever common
+That men are merriest when they are from home .
+But tell the Dauphin I will keep my state ,
+Be like a king and show my sail of greatness
+When I do rouse me in my throne of France :
+For that I have laid by my majesty
+And plodded like a man for working-days ,
+But I will rise there with so full a glory
+That I will dazzle all the eyes of France ,
+Yea , strike the Dauphin blind to look on us .
+And tell the pleasant prince this mock of his
+Hath turn'd his balls to gun-stones ; and his soul
+Shall stand sore-charged for the wasteful vengeance
+That shall fly with them : for many a thousand widows
+Shall this his mock mock out of their dear husbands ;
+Mock mothers from their sons , mock castles down ;
+And some are yet ungotten and unborn
+That shall have cause to curse the Dauphin's scorn .
+But this lies all within the will of God ,
+To whom I do appeal ; and in whose name
+Tell you the Dauphin I am coming on ,
+To venge me as I may and to put forth
+My rightful hand in a well-hallow'd cause .
+So get you hence in peace ; and tell the Dauphin
+His jest will savour but of shallow wit
+When thousands weep more than did laugh at it .
+Convey them with safe conduct . Fare you well .
+
+
+This was a merry message .
+
+We hope to make the sender blush at it .
+Therefore , my lords , omit no happy hour
+That may give furtherance to our expedition ;
+For we have now no thought in us but France ,
+Save those to God , that run before our business .
+Therefore let our proportions for these wars
+Be soon collected , and all things thought upon
+That may with reasonable swiftness add
+More feathers to our wings ; for , God before ,
+We'll chide this Dauphin at his father's door .
+Therefore let every man now task his thought ,
+That this fair action may on foot be brought .
+
+Now all the youth of England are on fire ,
+And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies ;
+Now thrive the armourers , and honour's thought
+Reigns solely in the breast of every man :
+They sell the pasture now to buy the horse ,
+Following the mirror of all Christian kings ,
+With winged heels , as English Mercuries .
+For now sits Expectation in the air
+And hides a sword from hilts unto the point
+With crowns imperial , crowns and coronets ,
+Promis'd to Harry and his followers .
+The French , advis'd by good intelligence
+Of this most dreadful preparation ,
+Shake in their fear , and with pale policy
+Seek to divert the English purposes .
+O England ! model to thy inward greatness ,
+Like little body with a mighty heart ,
+What mightst thou do , that honour would thee do ,
+Were all thy children kind and natural !
+But see thy fault ! France hath in thee found out
+A nest of hollow bosoms , which he fills
+With treacherous crowns ; and three corrupted men ,
+One , Richard Earl of Cambridge , and the second ,
+Henry Lord Scroop of Masham , and the third ,
+Sir Thomas Grey , knight , of Northumberland ,
+Have , for the gilt of France ,O guilt , indeed !
+Confirm'd conspiracy with fearful France ;
+And by their hands this grace of kings must die ,
+If hell and treason hold their promises ,
+Ere he take ship for France , and in Southampton .
+Linger your patience on ; and well digest
+The abuse of distance while we force a play .
+The sum is paid ; the traitors are agreed ;
+The king is set from London ; and the scene
+Is now transported , gentles , to Southampton :
+There is the playhouse now , there must you sit :
+And thence to France shall we convey you safe ,
+And bring you back , charming the narrow seas
+To give you gentle pass ; for , if we may ,
+We'll not offend one stomach with our play .
+But , till the king come forth and not till then ,
+Unto Southampton do we shift our scene .
+
+Well met , Corporal Nym .
+
+Good morrow , Lieutenant Bardolph .
+
+What , are Ancient Pistol and you friends yet ?
+
+For my part , I care not : I say little ; but when time shall serve , there shall be smiles ; but that shall be as it may . I dare not fight ; but I will wink and hold out mine iron . It is a simple one ; but what though ? it will toast cheese , and it will endure cold as another man's sword will : and there's an end .
+
+I will bestow a breakfast to make you friends , and we'll be all three sworn brothers to France : let it be so , good Corporal Nym .
+
+Faith , I will live so long as I may , that's the certain of it ; and when I cannot live any longer , I will do as I may : that is my rest , that is the rendezvous of it .
+
+It is certain , corporal , that he is married to Nell Quickly ; and , certainly she did you wrong , for you were troth-plight to her .
+
+I cannot tell ; things must be as they may : men may sleep , and they may have their throats about them at that time ; and , some say , knives have edges . It must be as it may : though patience be a tired mare , yet she will plod . There must be conclusions . Well , I cannot tell .
+
+
+Here comes Ancient Pistol and his wife . Good corporal , be patient here . How now , mine host Pistol !
+
+Base tike , call'st thou me host ?
+Now , by this hand , I swear , I scorn the term ;
+Nor shall my Nell keep lodgers .
+
+No , by my troth , not long ; for we cannot lodge and board a dozen or fourteen gentlewomen that live honestly by the prick of their needles , but it will be thought we keep a bawdy-house straight . [
+
+Good lieutenant ! good corporal ! offer nothing here .
+
+Pish !
+
+Pish for thee , Iceland dog ! thou prickeared cur of Iceland !
+
+Good Corporal Nym , show thy valour and put up your sword .
+
+Will you shog off ? I would have you solus .
+
+
+Solus , egregious dog ? O viper vile !
+The solus in thy most mervailous face ;
+The solus in thy teeth , and in thy throat ,
+And in thy hateful lungs , yea , in thy maw , perdy ;
+And , which is worse , within thy nasty mouth !
+I do retort the solus in thy bowels ;
+For I can take , and Pistol's cock is up ,
+And flashing fire will follow .
+
+I am not Barbason ; you cannot conjure me . I have an humour to knock you indifferently well . If you grow foul with me , Pistol , I will scour you with my rapier , as I may , in fair terms : if you would walk off , I would prick your guts a little , in good terms , as I may ; and that's the humour of it .
+
+O braggart vile and damned furious wight !
+The grave doth gape , and doting death is near ;
+Therefore exhale .
+
+Hear me , hear me what I say : he that strikes the first stroke , I'll run him up to the hilts , as I am a soldier .
+
+
+An oath of mickle might , and fury shall abate .
+Give me thy fist , thy fore-foot to me give ;
+Thy spirits are most tall .
+
+I will cut thy throat , one time or other , in fair terms ; that is the humour of it .
+
+Coupe le gorge !
+That is the word . I thee defy again .
+O hound of Crete , think'st thou my spouse to get ?
+No ; to the spital go ,
+And from the powdering-tub of infamy
+Fetch forth the lazar kite of Cressid's kind ,
+Doll Tearsheet she by name , and her espouse :
+I have , and I will hold , the quondam Quickly
+For the only she ; and pauca , there's enough .
+Go to
+
+
+Mine host Pistol , you must come to my master , and your hostess : he is very sick , and would to bed . Good Bardolph , put thy face between his sheets and do the office of a warming-pan . Faith , he's very ill .
+
+Away , you rogue !
+
+By my troth , he'll yield the crow a pudding one of these days . The king has killed his heart . Good husband , come home presently .
+
+
+Come , shall I make you two friends ? We must to France together . Why the devil should we keep knives to cut one another's throats ?
+
+Let floods o'erswell , and fiends for food howl on !
+
+You'll pay me the eight shillings I won of you at betting ?
+
+Base is the slave that pays .
+
+That now I will have ; that's the humour of it .
+
+As manhood shall compound : push home .
+
+
+By this sword , he that makes the first thrust , I'll kill him ; by this sword , I will .
+
+Sword is an oath , and oaths must have their course .
+
+Corporal Nym , an thou wilt be friends , be friends : an thou wilt not , why then , be enemies with me too . Prithee , put up .
+
+I shall have my eight shillings I won of you at betting ?
+
+A noble shalt thou have , and present pay ;
+And liquor likewise will I give to thee ,
+And friendship shall combine , and brotherhood :
+I'll live by Nym , and Nym shall live by me .
+Is not this just ? for I shall sutler be
+Unto the camp , and profits will accrue .
+Give me thy hand .
+
+I shall have my noble ?
+
+In cash most justly paid .
+
+
+Well then , that's the humour of it .
+
+
+As ever you came of women , come in quickly to Sir John . Ah , poor heart ! he is so shaked of a burning quotidian tertian , that it is most lamentable to behold . Sweet men , come to him .
+
+The king hath run bad humours on the knight ; that's the even of it .
+
+Nym , thou hast spoke the right ;
+His heart is fracted and corroborate .
+
+The king is a good king : but it must be as it may ; he passes some humours and careers .
+
+Let us condole the knight ; for , lambkins , we will live .
+
+
+'Fore God , his Grace is bold to trust these traitors .
+
+They shall be apprehended by and by .
+
+How smooth and even they do bear themselves !
+As if allegiance in their bosoms sat ,
+Crowned with faith and constant loyalty .
+
+The king hath note of all that they intend ,
+By interception which they dream not of .
+
+Nay , but the man that was his bedfellow ,
+Whom he hath dull'd and cloy'd with gracious favours ,
+That he should , for a foreign purse , so sell
+His sovereign's life to death and treachery !
+
+
+Now sits the wind fair , and we will aboard .
+My Lord of Cambridge , and my kind Lord of Masham ,
+And you , my gentle knight , give me your thoughts :
+Think you not that the powers we bear with us
+Will cut their passage through the force of France ,
+Doing the execution and the act
+For which we have in head assembled them ?
+
+No doubt , my liege , if each man do his best .
+
+I doubt not that ; since we are well persuaded
+We carry not a heart with us from hence
+That grows not in a fair consent with ours ;
+Nor leave not one behind that doth not wish
+Success and conquest to attend on us .
+
+Never was monarch better fear'd and lov'd
+Than is your majesty : there's not , I think , a subject
+That sits in heart-grief and uneasiness
+Under the sweet shade of your government .
+
+True : those that were your father's enemies
+Have steep'd their galls in honey , and do serve you
+With hearts create of duty and of zeal .
+
+We therefore have great cause of thankfulness ,
+And shall forget the office of our hand ,
+Sooner than quittance of desert and merit
+According to the weight and worthiness .
+
+So service shall with steeled sinews toil ,
+And labour shall refresh itself with hope ,
+To do your Grace incessant services .
+
+We judge no less . Uncle of Exeter ,
+Enlarge the man committed yesterday
+That rail'd against our person : we consider
+It was excess of wine that set him on ;
+And on his more advice we pardon him .
+
+That's mercy , but too much security :
+Let him be punish'd , sovereign , lest example
+Breed , by his sufference , more of such a kind .
+
+O ! let us yet be merciful .
+
+So may your highness , and yet punish too .
+
+Sir ,
+You show great mercy , if you give him life
+After the taste of much correction .
+
+Alas ! your too much love and care of me
+Are heavy orisons 'gainst this poor wretch .
+If little faults , proceeding on distemper ,
+Shall not be wink'd at , how shall we stretch our eye
+When capital crimes , chew'd , swallow'd , and digested ,
+Appear before us ? We'll yet enlarge that man ,
+Though Cambridge , Scroop , and Grey , in their dear care ,
+And tender preservation of our person ,
+Would have him punish'd . And now to our French causes :
+Who are the late commissioners ?
+
+I one , my lord :
+Your highness bade me ask for it to-day .
+
+So did you me , my liege .
+
+And I , my royal sovereign .
+
+Then , Richard , Earl of Cambridge , there is yours ;
+There yours , Lord Scroop of Masham ; and , sir knight ,
+Grey of Northumberland , this same is yours :
+Read them ; and know , I know your worthiness .
+My Lord of Westmoreland , and uncle Exeter ,
+We will aboard to-night . Why , how now , gentlemen !
+What see you in those papers that you lose
+So much complexion ? Look ye , how they change !
+Their cheeks are paper . Why , what read you there ,
+That hath so cowarded and chas'd your blood
+Out of appearance ?
+
+I do confess my fault ,
+And do submit me to your highness' mercy .
+
+To which we all appeal .
+
+To which we all appeal .
+
+The mercy that was quick in us but late
+By your own counsel is suppress'd and kill'd :
+You must not dare , for shame , to talk of mercy ;
+For your own reasons turn into your bosoms ,
+As dogs upon their masters , worrying you .
+See you , my princes and my noble peers ,
+These English monsters ! My Lord of Cambridge here ,
+You know how apt our love was to accord
+To furnish him with all appertinents
+Belonging to his honour ; and this man
+Hath , for a few light crowns , lightly conspir'd ,
+And sworn unto the practices of France ,
+To kill us here in Hampton : to the which
+This knight , no less for bounty bound to us
+Than Cambridge is , hath likewise sworn . But O !
+What shall I say to thee , Lord Scroop ? thou cruel ,
+Ingrateful , savage and inhuman creature !
+Thou that didst bear the key of all my counsels ,
+That knew'st the very bottom of my soul ,
+That almost mightst have coin'd me into gold
+Wouldst thou have practis'd on me for thy use !
+May it be possible that foreign hire
+Could out of thee extract one spark of evil
+That might annoy my finger ? 'tis so strange
+That , though the truth of it stands off as gross
+As black from white , my eye will scarcely see it .
+Treason and murder ever kept together ,
+As two yoke-devils sworn to either's purpose ,
+Working so grossly in a natural cause
+That admiration did not whoop at them :
+But thou , 'gainst all proportion , didst bring in
+Wonder to wait on treason and on murder :
+And whatsoever cunning fiend it was
+That wrought upon thee so preposterously
+Hath got the voice in hell for excellence :
+And other devils that suggest by treasons
+Do botch and bungle up damnation
+With patches , colours , and with forms , being fetch'd
+From glistering semblances of piety ;
+But he that temper'd thee bade thee stand up ,
+Gave thee no instance why thou shouldst do treason ,
+Unless to dub thee with the name of traitor .
+If that same demon that hath gull'd thee thus
+Should with his lion gait walk the whole world ,
+He might return to vasty Tartar back ,
+And tell the legions , 'I can never win
+A soul so easy as that Englishman's .'
+O ! how hast thou with jealousy infected
+The sweetness of affiance . Show men dutiful ?
+Why , so didst thou : seem they grave and learned ?
+Why , so didst thou : come they of noble family ?
+Why , so didst thou : seem they religious ?
+Why , so didst thou : or are they spare in diet ,
+Free from gross passion or of mirth or anger ,
+Constant in spirit , not swerving with the blood ,
+Garnish'd and deck'd in modest complement ,
+Not working with the eye without the ear ,
+And but in purged judgment trusting neither ?
+Such and so finely bolted didst thou seem :
+And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot ,
+To mark the full-fraught man and best indu'd
+With some suspicion . I will weep for thee ;
+For this revolt of thine , methinks , is like
+Another fall of man . Their faults are open :
+Arrest them to the answer of the law ;
+And God acquit them of their practices !
+
+I arrest thee of high treason , by the name of Richard Earl of Cambridge .
+I arrest thee of high treason , by the name of Henry Lord Scroop of Masham .
+I arrest thee of high treason , by the name of Thomas Grey , knight , of Northumberland .
+
+Our purposes God justly hath discover'd ,
+And I repent my fault more than my death ;
+Which I beseech your highness to forgive ,
+Although my body pay the price of it .
+
+For me , the gold of France did not seduce ,
+Although I did admit it as a motive
+The sooner to effect what I intended :
+But God be thanked for prevention ;
+Which I in sufference heartily will rejoice ,
+Beseeching God and you to pardon me .
+
+Never did faithful subject more rejoice
+At the discovery of most dangerous treason
+Than I do at this hour joy o'er myself ,
+Prevented from a damned enterprise .
+My fault , but not my body ; pardon , sovereign .
+
+God quit you in his mercy ! Hear your sentence .
+You have conspir'd against our royal person ,
+Join'd with an enemy proclaim'd , and from his coffers
+Receiv'd the golden earnest of our death ;
+Wherein you would have sold your king to slaughter ,
+His princes and his peers to servitude ,
+His subjects to oppression and contempt ,
+And his whole kingdom into desolation .
+Touching our person seek we no revenge ;
+But we our kingdom's safety must so tender ,
+Whose ruin you have sought , that to her laws
+We do deliver you . Get you therefore hence ,
+Poor miserable wretches , to your death ;
+The taste whereof , God of his mercy give you
+Patience to endure , and true repentance
+Of all your dear offences ! Bear them hence .
+
+Now , lords , for France ! the enterprise whereof
+Shall be to you , as us , like glorious .
+We doubt not of a fair and lucky war ,
+Since God so graciously hath brought to light
+This dangerous treason lurking in our way
+To hinder our beginnings . We doubt not now
+But every rub is smoothed on our way .
+Then forth , dear countrymen : let us deliver
+Our puissance into the hand of God ,
+Putting it straight in expedition .
+Cheerly to sea ! the signs of war advance :
+No king of England , if not king of France .
+
+
+Prithee , honey-sweet husband , let me bring thee to Staines .
+
+No ; for my manly heart doth yearn .
+Bardolph , be blithe ; Nym , rouse thy vaunting veins ;
+Boy , bristle thy courage up ; for Falstaff he is dead ,
+And we must yearn therefore .
+
+Would I were with him , wheresome'er he is , either in heaven or in hell !
+
+Nay , sure , he's not in hell : he's in Arthur's bosom , if ever man went to Arthur's bosom . A' made a finer end and went away an it had been any christom child ; a' parted even just between twelve and one , even at the turning o' the tide : for after I saw him fumble with the sheets and play with flowers and smile upon his fingers' ends , I knew there was but one way ; for his nose was as sharp as a pen , and a' babbled of green fields . 'How now , Sir John !' quoth I : 'what man ! be of good cheer .' So a' cried out 'God , God , God !' three or four times : now I , to comfort him , bid him a' should not think of God , I hoped there was no need to trouble himself with any such thoughts yet . So a' bade me lay more clothes on his feet : I put my hand into the bed and felt them , and they were as cold as any stone ; then I felt to his knees , and so upward , and upward , and all was as cold as any stone .
+
+They say he cried out of sack .
+
+Ay , that a' did .
+
+And of women .
+
+Nay , that a' did not .
+
+Yes , that a' did ; and said they were devils incarnate .
+
+A' could never abide carnation ; 'twas a colour he never liked .
+
+A' said once , the devil would have him about women .
+
+A' did in some sort , indeed , handle women ; but then he was rheumatic , and talked of the whore of Babylon .
+
+Do you not remember a' saw a flea stick upon Bardolph's nose , and a' said it was a black soul burning in hell-fire ?
+
+Well , the fuel is gone that maintained that fire : that's all the riches I got in his service .
+
+Shall we shog ? the king will be gone from Southampton .
+
+Come , let's away . My love , give me thy lips .
+Look to my chattels and my moveables :
+Let senses rule , the word is , 'Pitch and pay ;'
+Trust none ;
+For oaths are straws , men's faiths are wafercakes ,
+And hold-fast is the only dog , my duck :
+Therefore , caveto be thy counsellor .
+Go , clear thy crystals . Yoke-fellows in arms ,
+Let us to France ; like horse-leeches , my boys ,
+To suck , to suck , the very blood to suck !
+
+And that's but unwholesome food , they say .
+
+Touch her soft mouth , and march .
+
+Farewell , hostess .
+
+
+I cannot kiss , that is the humour of it ; but , adieu .
+
+Let housewifery appear : keep close , I thee command .
+
+Farewell ; adieu .
+
+Thus come the English with full power upon us ;
+And more than carefully it us concerns
+To answer royally in our defences .
+Therefore the Dukes of Berri and Britaine ,
+Of Brabant and of Orleans , shall make forth ,
+And you , Prince Dauphin , with all swift dispatch ,
+To line and new repair our towns of war
+With men of courage and with means defendant :
+For England his approaches makes as fierce
+As waters to the sucking of a gulf .
+It fits us then to be as provident
+As fear may teach us , out of late examples
+Left by the fatal and neglected English
+Upon our fields .
+
+My most redoubted father ,
+It is most meet we arm us 'gainst the foe ;
+For peace itself should not so dull a kingdom ,
+Though war nor no known quarrel were in question ,
+But that defences , musters , preparations ,
+Should be maintain'd , assembled , and collected ,
+As were a war in expectation .
+Therefore , I say 'tis meet we all go forth
+To view the sick and feeble parts of France :
+And let us do it with no show of fear ;
+No , with no more than if we heard that England
+Were busied with a Whitsun morris-dance :
+For , my good liege , she is so idly king'd ,
+Her sceptre so fantastically borne
+By a vain , giddy , shallow , humorous youth ,
+That fear attends her not .
+
+O peace , Prince Dauphin !
+You are too much mistaken in this king .
+Question your Grace the late ambassadors ,
+With what great state he heard their embassy ,
+How well supplied with noble counsellors ,
+How modest in exception , and , withal
+How terrible in constant resolution ,
+And you shall find his vanities forespent
+Were but the outside of the Roman Brutus ,
+Covering discretion with a coat of folly ;
+As gardeners do with ordure hide those roots
+That shall first spring and be most delicate .
+
+Well , 'tis not so , my lord high constable ;
+But though we think it so , it is no matter :
+In cases of defence 'tis best to weigh
+The enemy more mighty than he seems :
+So the proportions of defence are fill'd ;
+Which of a weak and niggardly projection
+Doth like a miser spoil his coat with scanting
+A little cloth .
+
+Think we King Harry strong ;
+And , princes , look you strongly arm to meet him .
+The kindred of him hath been flesh'd upon us ,
+And he is bred out of that bloody strain
+That haunted us in our familiar paths :
+Witness our too much memorable shame
+When Cressy battle fatally was struck
+And all our princes captiv'd by the hand
+Of that black name , Edward Black Prince of Wales ;
+Whiles that his mounting sire , on mountain standing ,
+Up in the air , crown'd with the golden sun ,
+Saw his heroical seed , and smil'd to see him
+Mangle the work of nature , and deface
+The patterns that by God and by French fathers
+Had twenty years been made . This is a stem
+Of that victorious stock ; and let us fear
+The native mightiness and fate of him .
+
+
+Ambassadors from Harry King of England
+Do crave admittance to your majesty .
+
+We'll give them present audience . Go , and bring them .
+
+You see this chase is hotly follow'd , friends .
+
+Turn head , and stop pursuit ; for coward dogs
+Most spend their mouths when what they seem to threaten
+Runs far before them . Good my sovereign ,
+Take up the English short , and let them know
+Of what a monarchy you are the head :
+Self-love , my liege , is not so vile a sin
+As self-neglecting .
+
+
+From our brother England ?
+
+From him ; and thus he greets your majesty .
+He wills you , in the name of God Almighty ,
+That you divest yourself , and lay apart
+The borrow'd glories that by gift of heaven ,
+By law of nature and of nations 'long
+To him and to his heirs ; namely , the crown
+And all wide-stretched honours that pertain
+By custom and the ordinance of times
+Unto the crown of France . That you may know
+'Tis no sinister nor no awkward claim ,
+Pick'd from the worm-holes of long-vanish'd days ,
+Nor from the dust of old oblivion rak'd ,
+He sends you this most memorable line ,
+
+In every branch truly demonstrative ;
+Willing you overlook this pedigree ;
+And when you find him evenly deriv'd
+From his most fam'd of famous ancestors ,
+Edward the Third , he bids you then resign
+Your crown and kingdom , indirectly held
+From him the native and true challenger .
+
+Or else what follows ?
+
+Bloody constraint ; for if you hide the crown
+Even in your hearts , there will he rake for it :
+Therefore in fierce tempest is he coming ,
+In thunder and in earthquake like a Jove ,
+That , if requiring fail , he will compel ;
+And bids you , in the bowels of the Lord ,
+Deliver up the crown , and to take mercy
+On the poor souls for whom this hungry war
+Opens his vasty jaws ; and on your head
+Turning the widows' tears , the orphans' cries ,
+The dead men's blood , the pining maidens' groans ,
+For husbands , fathers , and betrothed lovers ,
+That shall be swallow'd in this controversy .
+This is his claim , his threat'ning , and my message ;
+Unless the Dauphin be in presence here ,
+To whom expressly I bring greeting too .
+
+For us , we will consider of this further :
+To-morrow shall you bear our full intent
+Back to our brother England .
+
+For the Dauphin ,
+I stand here for him : what to him from England ?
+
+Scorn and defiance , slight regard , contempt ,
+And anything that may not misbecome
+The mighty sender , doth he prize you at .
+Thus says my king : an if your father's highness
+Do not , in grant of all demands at large ,
+Sweeten the bitter mock you sent his majesty ,
+He'll call you to so hot an answer of it ,
+That caves and womby vaultages of France
+Shall chide your trespass and return your mock
+In second accent of his ordinance .
+
+Say , if my father render fair return ,
+It is against my will ; for I desire
+Nothing but odds with England : to that end ,
+As matching to his youth and vanity ,
+I did present him with the Paris balls .
+
+He'll make your Paris Louvre shake for it ,
+Were it the mistress-court of mighty Europe :
+And , be assur'd , you'll find a difference
+As we his subjects have in wonder found
+Between the promise of his greener days
+And these he masters now . Now he weighs time
+Even to the utmost grain ; that you shall read
+In your own losses , if he stay in France .
+
+To-morrow shall you know our mind at full .
+
+Dispatch us with all speed , lest that our king
+Come here himself to question our delay ;
+For he is footed in this land already .
+
+You shall be soon dispatch'd with fair conditions :
+A night is but small breath and little pause
+To answer matters of this consequence .
+
+Thus with imagin'd wing our swift scene flies
+In motion of no less celerity
+Than that of thought . Suppose that you have seen
+The well-appointed king at Hampton pier
+Embark his royalty ; and his brave fleet
+With silken streamers the young Ph bus fanning :
+Play with your fancies , and in them behold
+Upon the hempen tackle ship-boys climbing ;
+Hear the shrill whistle which doth order give
+To sounds confus'd ; behold the threaden sails ,
+Borne with the invisible and creeping wind ,
+Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow'd sea ,
+Breasting the lofty surge . O ! do but think
+You stand upon the rivage and behold
+A city on the inconstant billows dancing ;
+For so appears this fleet majestical ,
+Holding due course to Harfleur . Follow , follow !
+Grapple your minds to sternage of this navy ,
+And leave your England , as dead midnight still ,
+Guarded with grandsires , babies , and old women ,
+Either past or not arriv'd to pith and puissance :
+For who is he , whose chin is but enrich'd
+With one appearing hair , that will not follow
+Those call'd and choice-drawn cavaliers to France ?
+Work , work your thoughts , and therein see a siege ;
+Behold the ordenance on their carriages ,
+With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur .
+Suppose the ambassador from the French comes back ;
+Tells Harry that the king doth offer him
+Katharine his daughter ; and with her , to dowry ,
+Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms :
+The offer likes not : and the nimble gunner
+With linstock now the devilish cannon touches ,
+
+And down goes all before them . Still be kind ,
+And eke out our performance with your mind .
+
+Once more unto the breach , dear friends , once more ;
+Or close the wall up with our English dead !
+In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
+As modest stillness and humility :
+But when the blast of war blows in our ears ,
+Then imitate the action of the tiger ;
+Stiffen the sinews , summon up the blood ,
+Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage ;
+Then lend the eye a terrible aspect ;
+Let it pry through the portage of the head
+Like the brass cannon ; let the brow o'erwhelm it
+As fearfully as doth a galled rock
+O'erhang and jutty his confounded base ,
+Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean .
+Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide ,
+Hold hard the breath , and bend up every spirit
+To his full height ! On , on , you noblest English !
+Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof ;
+Fathers that , like so many Alexanders ,
+Have in these parts from morn till even fought ,
+And sheath'd their swords for lack of argument .
+Dishonour not your mothers ; now attest
+That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you .
+Be copy now to men of grosser blood ,
+And teach them how to war . And you , good yeomen ,
+Whose limbs were made in England , show us here
+The mettle of your pasture ; let us swear
+That you are worth your breeding ; which I doubt not ;
+For there is none of you so mean and base
+That hath not noble lustre in your eyes .
+I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips ,
+Straining upon the start . The game's afoot :
+Follow your spirit ; and , upon this charge
+Cry 'God for Harry ! England and Saint George !'
+
+
+On , on , on , on , on ! to the breach , to the breach !
+
+Pray thee , corporal , stay : the knocks are too hot ; and for mine own part , I have not a case of lives : the humour of it is too hot , that is the very plain-song of it .
+
+The plain-song is most just , for humours do abound :
+
+Knocks go and come : God's vassals drop and die ;
+And sword and shield
+In bloody field
+Doth win immortal fame .
+
+
+Would I were in an alehouse in London ! I would give all my fame for a pot of ale , and safety .
+
+And I :
+
+If wishes would prevail with me ,
+My purpose should not fail with me ,
+But thither would I hie .
+
+As duly ,
+But not as truly ,
+As bird doth sing on bough .
+
+Up to the breach , you dogs ! avaunt , you cullions !
+
+
+Be merciful , great duke , to men of mould !
+Abate thy rage , abate thy manly rage !
+Abate thy rage , great duke !
+Good bawcock , bate thy rage ; use lenity , sweet chuck !
+
+These be good humours ! your honour wins bad humours .
+
+
+As young as I am , I have observed these three swashers . I am boy to them all three , but all they three , though they would serve me , could not be man to me ; for , indeed three such antiques do not amount to a man . For Bardolph , he is white-livered and red-faced ; by the means whereof , a' faces it out , but fights not . For Pistol , he hath a killing tongue and a quiet sword ; by the means whereof a' breaks words , and keeps whole weapons . For Nym , he hath heard that men of few words are the best men ; and therefore he scorns to say his prayers , lest a' should be thought a coward : but his few bad words are matched with as few good deeds ; for a' never broke any man's head but his own , and that was against a post when he was drunk . They will steal any thing and call it purchase . Bardolph stole a lute-case , bore it twelve leagues , and sold it for three half-pence . Nym and Bardolph are sworn brothers in filching , and in Calais they stole a fire-shovel ;I knew by that piece of service the men would carry coals ,they would have me as familiar with men's pockets as their gloves or their handkerchers : which makes much against my manhood if I should take from another's pocket to put into mine ; for it is plain pocketing up of wrongs . I must leave them and seek some better service : their villany goes against my weak stomach , and therefore I must cast it up .
+
+Captain Fluellen , you must come presently to the mines : the Duke of Gloucester would speak with you .
+
+To the mines ! tell you the duke it is not so good to come to the mines . For look you , the mines is not according to the disciplines of the war ; the concavities of it is not sufficient ; for , look you , th' athversary you may discuss unto the duke , look you is digt himself four yards under the countermines ; by Cheshu , I think , a' will plow up all if there is not better directions .
+
+The Duke of Gloucester , to whom the order of the siege is given , is altogether directed by an Irishman , a very valiant gentleman , i' faith .
+
+It is Captain Macmorris , is it not ?
+
+I think it be .
+
+By Cheshu , he is an ass , as in the world :
+I will verify as much in his peard : he has no more directions in the true disciplines of the wars , look you , of the Roman disciplines , than is a puppy-dog .
+
+
+Here a' comes ; and the Scots captain , Captain Jamy , with him .
+
+Captain Jamy is a marvellous falorous gentleman , that is certain ; and of great expedition and knowledge in th' aunchient wars , upon my particular knowledge of his directions : by Cheshu , he will maintain his argument as well as any military man in the world , in the disciplines of the pristine wars of the Romans .
+
+I say gud day , Captain Fluellen .
+
+God-den to your worship , good Captain James .
+
+How now , Captain Macmorris ! have you quit the mines ? have the pioners given o'er ?
+
+By Chrish , la ! tish ill done : the work ish give over , the trumpet sound the retreat . By my hand , I swear , and my father's soul , the work ish ill done ; it ish give over : I would have blowed up the town , so Chrish save me , la ! in an hour : O ! tish ill done , tish ill done ; by my hand , tish ill done !
+
+Captain Macmorris , I beseech you now , will you voutsafe me , look you , a few disputations with you , as partly touching or concerning the disciplines of the war , the Roman wars , in the way of argument , look you , and friendly communication ; partly to satisfy my opinion , and partly for the satisfaction , look you , of my mind , as touching the direction of the military discipline : that is the point .
+
+It sall be vary gud , gud feith , gud captains bath :
+
+and I sall quit you with gud leve , as I may pick occasion ; that sall I , marry .
+
+It is no time to discourse , so Chrish save me : the day is hot , and the weather , and the wars , and the king , and the dukes : it is no time to discourse . The town is beseeched , and the trumpet calls us to the breach ; and we talk , and be Chrish , do nothing : 'tis shame for us all ; so God sa' me , 'tis shame to stand still ; it is shame , by my hand ; and there is throats to be cut , and works to be done ; and there ish nothing done , so Chrish sa' me , la !
+
+By the mess , ere theise eyes of mine take themselves to slumber , aile do gud service , or aile lig i' the grund for it ; ay , or go to death ; and aile pay it as valorously as I may , that sal I suerly do , that is the breff and the long . Marry , I wad full fain heard some question 'tween you tway .
+
+Captain Macmorris , I think , look you , under your correction , there is not many of your nation
+
+Of my nation ! What ish my nation ? ish a villain , and a bastard , and a knave , and a rascal ? What ish my nation ? Who talks of my nation ?
+
+Look you , if you take the matter otherwise than is meant , Captain Macmorris , peradventure I shall think you do not use me with that affability as in discretion you ought to use me , look you ; being as good a man as yourself , both in the disciplines of wars , and in the derivation of my birth , and in other particularities .
+
+I do not know you so good a man as myself : so Chrish save me , I will cut off your head .
+
+Gentlemen both , you will mistake each other .
+
+A ! that's a foul fault .
+
+
+The town sounds a parley .
+
+Captain Macmorris , when there is more better opportunity to be required , look you , I will be so bold as to tell you I know the disciplines of wars ; and there is an end .
+
+How yet resolves the governor of the town ?
+This is the latest parle we will admit :
+Therefore to our best mercy give yourselves ;
+Or like to men proud of destruction
+Defy us to our worst : for , as I am a soldier ,
+A name that in my thoughts , becomes me best ,
+If I begin the battery once again ,
+I will not leave the half-achieved Harfleur
+Till in her ashes she lie buried .
+The gates of mercy shall be all shut up ,
+And the flesh'd soldier , rough and hard of heart ,
+In liberty of bloody hand shall range
+With conscience wide as hell , mowing like grass
+Your fresh-fair virgins and your flowering infants .
+What is it then to me , if impious war ,
+Array'd in flames like to the prince of fiends ,
+Do , with his smirch'd complexion , all fell feats
+Enlink'd to waste and desolation ?
+What is't to me , when you yourselves are cause ,
+If your pure maidens fall into the hand
+Of hot and forcing violation ?
+What rein can hold licentious wickedness
+When down the hill he holds his fierce career ?
+We may as bootless spend our vain command
+Upon the enraged soldiers in their spoil
+As send precepts to the leviathan
+To come ashore . Therefore , you men of Harfleur ,
+Take pity of your town and of your people ,
+Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command ;
+Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of grace
+O'erblows the filthy and contagious clouds
+Of heady murder , spoil , and villany .
+If not , why , in a moment , look to see
+The blind and bloody soldier with foul hand
+Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters ;
+Your fathers taken by the silver beards ,
+And their most reverend heads dash'd to the walls ;
+Your naked infants spitted upon pikes ,
+Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confus'd
+Do break the clouds , as did the wives of Jewry
+At Herod's bloody-hunting slaughtermen .
+What say you ? will you yield , and this avoid ?
+Or , guilty in defence , be thus destroy'd ?
+
+Our expectation hath this day an end .
+The Dauphin , whom of succour we entreated ,
+Returns us that his powers are yet not ready
+To raise so great a siege . Therefore , great king ,
+We yield our town and lives to thy soft mercy .
+Enter our gates ; dispose of us and ours ;
+For we no longer are defensible .
+
+Open your gates ! Come , uncle Exeter ,
+Go you and enter Harfleur ; there remain ,
+And fortify it strongly 'gainst the French :
+Use mercy to them all . For us , dear uncle ,
+The winter coming on and sickness growing
+Upon our soldiers , we will retire to Calais .
+To-night in Harfleur will we be your guest ;
+To-morrow for the march are we addrest .
+
+
+Alice , tu as est en Angleterre , et tu parles bien le langage .
+
+Un peu , madame .
+
+Je te prie , m'enseignez ; il faut que j'apprenne parler . Comment appellez vous la main en Anglois ?
+
+La main ? elle est appell e , de hand .
+
+De hand . Et les doigts ?
+
+Les doigts ? ma foy , je oublie les doigts ; mais je me souviendray . Les doigts ? je pense qu'ils sont appell s de fingres ; ouy , de fingres .
+
+La main , de hand ; les doigts , de fingres . Je pense que je suis le bon escolier . J'ai gagn deux mots d'Anglois vistement . Comment appellez vous les ongles ?
+
+Lesongles ? nous les appellons , de nails .
+
+De nails . Escoutez ; dites moy , si je parle bien : de hands , de fingres , et de nails .
+
+C'est bien dict , madame ; il est fort bon Anglois .
+
+Dites moy l'Anglois pour le bras .
+
+De arm , madame .
+
+Et le coude ?
+
+De elbow .
+
+De elbow . Je m'en fais la r p tition de tous les mots que vous m'avez appris d s pr sent .
+
+Il est trop difficile , madame , comme je pense .
+
+Excusez moy , Alice ; escoutez : de hand , de fingres , de nails , de arma , de bilbow .
+
+De elbow , madame .
+
+O Seigneur Dieu ! je m'en oublie ; de elbow . Comment appellez vous le col ?
+
+De nick , madame .
+
+De nick . Et le menton ?
+
+De chin .
+
+De sin . Le col , de nick : le menton , de sin .
+
+Ouy . Sauf vostre honneur , en v rit vous prononcez les mots aussi droict que les natifs d'Angleterre .
+
+Je ne doute point d'apprendre par la grace de Dieu , et en peu de temps .
+
+N'avez vous d j oubli ce que je vous ay enseign e ?
+
+Non , je reciteray vous promptement .
+De hand , de fingre , de mails ,
+
+De nails , madame .
+
+De nails , de arme , de ilbow .
+
+Sauf vostre honneur , d'elbow .
+
+Ainsi dis je ; d'elbow , de nick , et de sin . Comment appellez vous le pied et la robe ?
+
+De foot , madame ; et de coun .
+
+De foot , et de coun ? O Seigneur Dieu ! ces sont mots de son mauvais , corruptible , gros , et impudique , et non pour les dames d'honneur d'user . Je ne voudrois prononcer ces mots devant les seigneurs de France , pour tout le monde . Foh ! le foot , et le coun . N antmoins je reciterai une autre fois ma le on ensemble : de hand , de fingre , de nails , d'arm , d'elbow , de nick , de sin , de foot , de coun .
+
+Excellent , madame !
+
+C'est assez pour une fois : allons nous diner .
+
+
+'Tis certain , he hath pass'd the river Somme .
+
+And if he be not fought withal , my lord ,
+Let us not live in France ; let us quit all ,
+And give our vineyards to a barbarous people .
+
+O Dieu vivant ! shall a few sprays of us ,
+The emptying of our fathers' luxury ,
+Our scions , put in wild and savage stock ,
+Spirt up so suddenly into the clouds ,
+And overlook their grafters ?
+
+Normans , but bastard Normans , Norman bastards !
+Mort de ma vie ! if they march along
+Unfought withal , but I will sell my dukedom ,
+To buy a slobbery and a dirty farm
+In that nook-shotten isle of Albion .
+
+Dieu de battailes ! where have they this mettle ?
+Is not their climate foggy , raw , and dull ,
+On whom , as in despite , the sun looks pale ,
+Killing their fruit with frowns ? Can sodden water ,
+A drench for sur-rein'd jades , their barley-broth ,
+Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat ?
+And shall our quick blood , spirited with wine ,
+Seem frosty ? O ! for honour of our land ,
+Let us not hang like roping icicles
+Upon our houses' thatch , whiles a more frosty people
+Sweat drops of gallant youth in our rich fields ;
+Poor we may call them in their native lords .
+
+By faith and honour ,
+Our madams mock at us , and plainly say
+Our mettle is bred out ; and they will give
+Their bodies to the lust of English youth
+To new-store France with bastard warriors .
+
+They bid us to the English dancing-schools ,
+And teach lavoltas high and swift corantos ;
+Saying our grace is only in our heels ,
+And that we are most lofty runaways .
+
+Where is Montjoy the herald ? speed him hence :
+Let him greet England with our sharp defiance .
+Up , princes ! and , with spirit of honour edg'd
+More sharper than your swords , hie to the field :
+Charles Delabreth , High Constable of France ;
+You Dukes of Orleans , Bourbon , and Berri ,
+Alen on , Brabant , Bar , and Burgundy ;
+Jaques Chatillon , Rambures , Vaudemont ,
+Beaumont , Grandpr , Roussi , and Fauconberg ,
+Foix , Lestrale , Bouciqualt , and Charolois ;
+High dukes , great princes , barons , lords , and knights ,
+For your great seats now quit you of great shames .
+Bar Harry England , that sweeps through our land
+With pennons painted in the blood of Harfleur :
+Rush on his host , as doth the melted snow
+Upon the valleys , whose low vassal seat
+The Alps doth spit and void his rheum upon :
+Go down upon him , you have power enough ,
+And in a captive chariot into Roan
+Bring him our prisoner .
+
+This becomes the great .
+Sorry am I his numbers are so few ,
+His soldiers sick and famish'd in their march ,
+For I am sure when he shall see our army
+He'll drop his heart into the sink of fear ,
+And for achievement offer us his ransom .
+
+Therefore , lord constable , haste on Montjoy ,
+And let him say to England that we send
+To know what willing ransom he will give .
+Prince Dauphin , you shall stay with us in Roan .
+
+Not so , I do beseech your majesty .
+
+Be patient , for you shall remain with us .
+Now forth , lord constable and princes all ,
+And quickly bring us word of England's fall .
+
+
+How now , Captain Fluellen ! come you from the bridge ?
+
+I assure you , there is very excellent services committed at the pridge .
+
+Is the Duke of Exeter safe ?
+
+The Duke of Exeter is as magnanimous as Agamemnon ; and a man that I love and honour with my soul , and my heart , and my duty , and my life , and my living , and my uttermost power : he is not God be praised and plessed !any hurt in the world ; but keeps the pridge most valiantly , with excellent discipline . There is an aunchient lieutenant there at the pridge , I think , in my very conscience , he is as valiant a man as Mark Antony ; and he is a man of no estimation in the world ; but I did see him do as gallant service .
+
+What do you call him ?
+
+He is called Aunchient Pistol .
+
+I know him not .
+
+
+Here is the man .
+
+Captain , I thee beseech to do me favours :
+The Duke of Exeter doth love thee well .
+
+Ay , I praise God ; and I have merited some love at his hands .
+
+Bardolph , a soldier firm and sound of heart ,
+And of buxom valour , hath , by cruel fate
+And giddy Fortune's furious fickle wheel ,
+That goddess blind ,
+That stands upon the rolling restless stone ,
+
+By your patience , Aunchient Pistol . Fortune is painted plind , with a muffler afore her eyes , to signify to you that Fortune is plind : and she is painted also with a wheel , to signify to you , which is the moral of it , that she is turning , and inconstant , and mutability , and variation : and her foot , look you , is fixed upon a spherical stone , which rolls , and rolls , and rolls : in good truth , the poet makes a most excellent description of it : Fortune is an excellent moral .
+
+Fortune is Bardolph's foe , and frowns on him ;
+For he hath stol'n a pax , and hanged must a' be ,
+A damned death !
+Let gallows gape for dog , let man go free
+And let not hemp his wind-pipe suffocate .
+But Exeter hath given the doom of death
+For pax of little price .
+Therefore , go speak ; the duke will hear thy voice ;
+And let not Bardolph's vital thread be cut
+With edge of penny cord and vile reproach :
+Speak , captain , for his life , and I will thee requite .
+
+Aunchient Pistol , I do partly understand your meaning .
+
+Why then , rejoice therefore .
+
+Certainly , aunchient , it is not a thing to rejoice at ; for , if , look you , he were my brother , I would desire the duke to use his good pleasure and put him to execution ; for discipline ought to be used .
+
+Die and be damn'd ; and figo for thy friendship !
+
+It is well .
+
+The fig of Spain !
+
+
+Very good .
+
+Why , this is an arrant counterfeit rascal : I remember him now ; a bawd , a cutpurse .
+
+I'll assure you a' uttered as prave words at the pridge as you shall see in a summer's day . But it is very well ; what he has spoke to me , that is well , I warrant you , when time is serve .
+
+Why , 'tis a gull , a fool , a rogue , that now and then goes to the wars to grace himself at his return into London under the form of a soldier . And such fellows are perfect in the great commanders' names , and they will learn you by rote where services were done ; at such and such a sconce , at such a breach , at such a convoy ; who came off bravely , who was shot , who disgraced , what terms the enemy stood on ; and this they con perfectly in the phrase of war , which they trick up with new-tuned oaths : and what a beard of the general's cut and a horrid suit of the camp will do among foaming bottles and ale-washed wits , is wonderful to be thought on . But you must learn to know such slanders of the age , or else you may be marvellously mistook .
+
+I tell you what , Captain Gower ; I do perceive , he is not the man that he would gladly make show to the world he is : if I find a hole in his coat I will tell him my mind .
+
+Hark you , the king is coming ; and I must speak with him from the pridgo .
+
+
+God pless your majesty !
+
+How now , Fluellen ! cam'st thou from the bridge ?
+
+Ay , so please your majesty . The Duke of Exeter hath very gallantly maintained the pridge : the French is gone off , look you , and there is gallant and most prave passages . Marry , th' athversary was have possession of the pridge , but he is enforced to retire , and the Duke of Exeter is master of the pridge . I can tell your majesty the duke is a prave man .
+
+What men have you lost , Fluellen ?
+
+The perdition of th' athversary hath been very great , reasonable great : marry , for my part , I think the duke hath lost never a man but one that is like to be executed for robbing a church ; one Bardolph , if your majesty know the man : his face is all bubukles , and whelks , and knobs , and flames o' fire ; and his lips blows at his nose , and it is like a coal of fire , sometimes plue and sometimes red ; but his nose is executed , and his fire's out .
+
+We would have all such offenders so cut off : and we give express charge that in our marches through the country there be nothing compelled from the villages , nothing taken but paid for , none of the French upbraided or abused in disdainful language ; for when lenity and cruelty play for a kingdom , the gentler gamester is the soonest winner .
+
+
+You know me by my habit .
+
+Well then I know thee : what shall I know of thee ?
+
+My master's mind .
+
+Unfold it .
+
+Thus says my king : Say thou to Harry of England : Though we seemed dead , we did but sleep : advantage is a better soldier than rashness . Tell him , we could have rebuked him at Harfleur , but that we thought not good to bruise an injury till it were full ripe : now we speak upon our cue , and our voice is imperial : England shall repent his folly , see his weakness , and admire our sufferance . Bid him therefore consider of his ransom ; which must proportion the losses we have borne , the subjects we have lost , the disgrace we have digested ; which , in weight to re-answer , his pettiness would bow under . For our losses , his exchequer is too poor ; for the effusion of our blood , the muster of his kingdom too faint a number ; and for our disgrace , his own person , kneeling at our feet , but a weak and worthless satisfaction . To this add defiance : and tell him , for conclusion , he hath betrayed his followers , whose condemnation is pronounced . So far my king and master , so much my office .
+
+What is thy name ? I know thy quality .
+
+Montjoy .
+
+Thou dost thy office fairly . Turn thee back ,
+And tell thy king I do not seek him now ,
+But could be willing to march on to Calais
+Without impeachment ; for , to say the sooth ,
+Though 'tis no wisdom to confess so much
+Unto an enemy of craft and vantage ,
+My people are with sickness much enfeebled ,
+My numbers lessen'd , and those few I have
+Almost no better than so many French :
+Who , when they were in health , I tell thee , herald ,
+I thought upon one pair of English legs
+Did march three Frenchmen . Yet , forgive me , God ,
+That I do brag thus ! this your air of France
+Hath blown that vice in me ; I must repent .
+Go therefore , tell thy master here I am :
+My ransom is this frail and worthless trunk ,
+My army but a weak and sickly guard ;
+Yet , God before , tell him we will come on ,
+Though France himself and such another neighbour
+Stand in our way . There's for thy labour , Montjoy .
+Go , bid thy master well advise himself :
+If we may pass , we will ; if we be hinder'd ,
+We shall your tawny ground with your red blood
+Discolour : and so , Montjoy , fare you well .
+The sum of all our answer is but this :
+We would not seek a battle as we are ;
+Nor , as we are , we say we will not shun it :
+So tell your master .
+
+I shall deliver so . Thanks to your highness .
+
+
+I hope they will not come upon us now .
+
+We are in God's hand , brother , not in theirs .
+March to the bridge ; it now draws toward night :
+Beyond the river we'll encamp ourselves ,
+And on to-morrow bid them march away .
+
+
+Tut ! I have the best armour of the world . Would it were day !
+
+You have an excellent armour ; but let my horse have his due .
+
+It is the best horse of Europe .
+
+Will it never be morning ?
+
+My Lord of Orleans , and my lord high constable , you talk of horse and armour
+
+You are as well provided of both as any prince in the world .
+
+What a long night is this ! I will not change my horse with any that treads but on four pasterns . a , ha ! He bounds from the earth as if his entrails were hairs : le cheval volant , the Pegasus , qui a les narines de feu ! When I bestride him , I soar , I am a hawk : he trots the air ; the earth sings when he touches it ; the basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes .
+
+He's of the colour of the nutmeg .
+
+And of the heat of the ginger . It is a beast for Perseus : he is pure air and fire ; and the dull elements of earth and water never appear in him but only in patient stillness while his rider mounts him : he is indeed a horse ; and all other jades you may call beasts .
+
+Indeed , my lord , it is a most absolute and excellent horse .
+
+It is the prince of palfreys ; his neigh is like the bidding of a monarch and his countenance enforces homage .
+
+No more , cousin .
+
+Nay , the man hath no wit that cannot , from the rising of the lark to the lodging of the lamb , vary deserved praise on my palfrey : it is a theme as fluent as the sea ; turn the sands into eloquent tongues , and my horse is argument for them all . 'Tis a subject for a sovereign to reason on , and for a sovereign's sovereign to ride on ; and for the world familiar to us , and unknown to lay apart their particular functions and wonder at him . I once writ a sonnet in his praise and began thus : 'Wonder of nature !'
+
+I have heard a sonnet begin so to one's mistress .
+
+Then did they imitate that which I composed to my courser ; for my horse is my mistress .
+
+Your mistress bears well .
+
+Me well ; which is the prescript praise and perfection of a good and particular mistress .
+
+Ma foi , methought yesterday your mistress shrewdly shook your back .
+
+So perhaps did yours .
+
+Mine was not bridled .
+
+O ! then belike she was old and gentle ; and you rode , like a kern of Ireland , your French hose off and in your straight strossers .
+
+You have good judgment in horsemanship .
+
+Be warned by me , then : they that ride so , and ride not warily , fall into foul bogs . I had rather have my horse to my mistress .
+
+I had as lief have my mistress a jade .
+
+I tell thee , constable , my mistress wears his own hair .
+
+I could make as true a boast as that if I had a sow to my mistress .
+
+Le chien est retourn son propre vomissement , et la truie lav e au bourbier : thou makest use of any thing .
+
+Yet do I not use my horse for my mistress : or any such proverb so little kin to the purpose .
+
+My lord constable , the armour that I saw in your tent to-night , are those stars or suns upon it ?
+
+Stars , my lord .
+
+Some of them will fall to-morrow , I hope .
+
+And yet my sky shall not want .
+
+That may be , for you bear a many superfluously , and 'twere more honour some were away .
+
+Even as your horse bears your praises ; who would trot as well were some of your brags dismounted .
+
+Would I were able to load him with his desert ! Will it never be day ? I will trot to-morrow a mile , and my way shall be paved with English faces .
+
+I will not say so for fear I should be faced out of my way . But I would it were morning , for I would fain be about the ears of the English .
+
+Who will go to hazard with me for twenty prisoners ?
+
+You must first go yourself to hazard , ere you have them .
+
+'Tis midnight : I'll go arm myself .
+
+
+The Dauphin longs for morning .
+
+He longs to eat the English .
+
+I think he will eat all he kills .
+
+By the white hand of my lady , he's a gallant prince .
+
+Swear by her foot , that she may tread out the oath .
+
+He is simply the most active gentleman of France .
+
+Doing is activity , and he will still be doing .
+
+He never did harm , that I heard of .
+
+Nor will do none to-morrow : he will keep that good name still .
+
+I know him to be valiant .
+
+I was told that by one that knows him better than you .
+
+What's he ?
+
+Marry , he told me so himself ; and he said he cared not who knew it .
+
+He needs not ; it is no hidden virtue in him .
+
+By my faith , sir , but it is ; never any body saw it but his lackey : 'tis a hooded valour ; and when it appears , it will bate .
+
+'Ill will never said well .'
+
+I will cap that proverb with 'There is flattery in friendship .'
+
+And I will take up that with 'Give the devil his due .'
+
+Well placed : there stands your friend for the devil : have at the very eye of that proverb , with 'A pox of the devil .'
+
+You are the better at proverbs , by how much 'A fool's bolt is soon shot .'
+
+You have shot over .
+
+'Tis not the first time you were overshot .
+
+
+My lord high constable , the English lie within fifteen hundred paces of your tents .
+
+Who hath measured the ground ?
+
+The Lord Grandpr .
+
+A valiant and most expert gentleman . Would it were day ! Alas ! poor Harry of England , he longs not for the dawning as we do .
+
+What a wretched and peevish fellow is this King of England , to mope with his fatbrained followers so far out of his knowledge !
+
+If the English had any apprehension they would run away .
+
+That they lack ; for if their heads had any intellectual armour they could never wear such heavy head-pieces .
+
+That island of England breeds very valiant creatures : their mastiffs are of unmatchable courage .
+
+Foolish curs ! that run winking into the mouth of a Russian bear and have their heads crushed like rotten apples . You may as well say that's a valiant flea that dare eat his breakfast on the lip of a lion .
+
+Just , just ; and the men do sympathize with the mastiffs in robustious and rough coming on , leaving their wits with their wives : and then give them great meals of beef and iron and steel , they will eat like wolves and fight like devils .
+
+Ay , but these English are shrewdly out of beef .
+
+Then shall we find to-morrow they have only stomachs to eat and none to fight . Now is it time to arm ; come , shall we about it ?
+
+It is now two o'clock : but , let me see , by ten
+We shall have each a hundred Englishmen .
+
+
+Now entertain conjecture of a time
+When creeping murmur and the poring dark
+Fills the wide vessel of the universe .
+From camp to camp , through the foul womb of night ,
+The hum of either army stilly sounds ,
+That the fix'd sentinels almost receive
+The secret whispers of each other's watch :
+Fire answers fire , and through their paly flames
+Each battle sees the other's umber'd face :
+Steed threatens steed , in high and boastful neighs
+Piercing the night's dull ear ; and from the tents
+The armourers , accomplishing the knights ,
+With busy hammers closing rivets up ,
+Give dreadful note of preparation .
+The country cocks do crow , the clocks do toll ,
+And the third hour of drowsy morning name .
+Proud of their numbers , and secure in soul ,
+The confident and over-lusty French
+Do the low-rated English play at dice ;
+And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night
+Who , like a foul and ugly witch , doth limp
+So tediously away . The poor condemned English ,
+Like sacrifices , by their watchful fires
+Sit patiently , and inly ruminate
+The morning's danger , and their gesture sad
+Investing lank-lean cheeks and war-worn coats
+Presenteth them unto the gazing moon
+So many horrid ghosts . O ! now , who will behold
+The royal captain of this ruin'd band
+Walking from watch to watch , from tent to tent ,
+Let him cry 'Praise and glory on his head !'
+For forth he goes and visits all his host ,
+Bids them good morrow with a modest smile ,
+And calls them brothers , friends , and countrymen .
+Upon his royal face there is no note
+How dread an army hath enrounded him ;
+Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour
+Unto the weary and all-watched night :
+But freshly looks and overbears attaint
+With cheerful semblance and sweet majesty ;
+That every wretch , pining and pale before ,
+Beholding him , plucks comfort from his looks ,
+A largess universal , like the sun
+His liberal eye doth give to every one ,
+Thawing cold fear . Then mean and gentle all ,
+Behold , as may unworthiness define ,
+A little touch of Harry in the night .
+And so our scene must to the battle fly ;
+Where ,O for pity ,we shall much disgrace ,
+With four or five most vile and ragged foils ,
+Right ill dispos'd in brawl ridiculous ,
+The name of Agincourt . Yet sit and see ;
+Minding true things by what their mockeries be .
+
+Gloucester , 'tis true that we are in great danger ;
+The greater therefore should our courage be .
+Good morrow , brother Bedford . God Almighty !
+There is some soul of goodness in things evil ,
+Would men observingly distil it out ;
+For our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers ,
+Which is both healthful , and good husbandry :
+Besides , they are our outward consciences ,
+And preachers to us all ; admonishing
+That we should dress us fairly for our end .
+Thus may we gather honey from the weed ,
+And make a moral of the devil himself .
+
+
+Good morrow , old Sir Thomas Erpingham :
+A good soft pillow for that good white head
+
+Were better than a churlish turf of France .
+
+Not so , my liege : this lodging likes me better ,
+Since I may say , 'Now lie I like a king .'
+
+'Tis good for men to love their present pains
+Upon example ; so the spirit is eas'd :
+And when the mind is quicken'd , out of doubt ,
+The organs , though defunct and dead before ,
+Break up their drowsy grave , and newly move
+With casted slough and fresh legerity .
+Lend me thy cloak , Sir Thomas . Brothers both ,
+Commend me to the princes in our camp ;
+Do my good morrow to them ; and anon
+Desire them all to my pavilion .
+
+We shall , my liege .
+
+
+Shall I attend your Grace ?
+
+No , my good knight ;
+Go with my brothers to my lords of England :
+I and my bosom must debate awhile ,
+And then I would no other company .
+
+The Lord in heaven bless thee , noble Harry !
+
+
+God-a-mercy , old heart ! thou speak'st cheerfully .
+
+
+Qui va l ?
+
+A friend .
+
+Discuss unto me ; art thou officer ?
+Or art thou base , common and popular ?
+
+I am a gentleman of a company .
+
+Trail'st thou the puissant pike ?
+
+Even so . What are you ?
+
+As good a gentleman as the emperor .
+
+Then you are a better than the king .
+
+The king's a bawcock , and a heart of gold ,
+A lad of life , an imp of fame :
+Of parents good , of fist most valiant :
+I kiss his dirty shoe , and from my heart-string
+I love the lovely bully . What's thy name ?
+
+Harry le Roy .
+
+Le Roy ! a Cornish name : art thou of Cornish crew ?
+
+No , I am a Welshman .
+
+Know'st thou Fluellen ?
+
+Yes .
+
+Tell him , I'll knock his leek about his pate
+Upon Saint Davy's day .
+
+Do not you wear your dagger in your cap that day , lest he knock that about yours .
+
+Art thou his friend ?
+
+And his kinsman too .
+
+The figo for thee then !
+
+I thank you . God be with you !
+
+My name is Pistol called .
+
+
+It sorts well with your fierceness .
+
+Captain Fluellen !
+
+Sol in the name of Cheshu Christ , speak lower . It is the greatest admiration in the universal world , when the true and auncient prerogatifes and laws of the wars is not kept . If you would take the pains but to examine the wars of Pompey the Great , you shall find , I warrant you , that there is no tiddle-taddle nor pibble-pabble in Pompey's camp ; I warrant you , you shall find the ceremonies of the wars , and the cares of it , and the forms of it , and the sobriety of it , and the modesty of it , to be otherwise .
+
+Why , the enemy is loud ; you heard him all night .
+
+If the enemy is an ass and a fool and a prating coxcomb , is it meet , think you , that we should also , look you , be an ass and a fool and a prating coxcomb , in your own conscience now ?
+
+I will speak lower .
+
+I pray you and peseech you that you will .
+
+
+Though it appear a little out of fashion ,
+There is much care and valour in this Welshman .
+
+
+Brother John Bates , is not that the morning which breaks yonder ?
+
+I think it be ; but we have no great cause to desire the approach of day .
+
+We see yonder the beginning of the day , but I think we shall never see the end of it . Who goes there ?
+
+A friend .
+
+Under what captain serve you ?
+
+Under Sir Thomas Erpingham .
+
+A good old commander and a most kind gentleman : I pray you , what thinks he of our estate ?
+
+Even as men wracked upon a sand , that look to be washed off the next tide .
+
+He hath not told his thought to the king ?
+
+No ; nor it is not meet he should . For , though I speak it to you , I think the king is but a man , as I am : the violet smells to him as it doth to me ; the element shows to him as it doth to me ; all his senses have but human conditions : his ceremonies laid by , in his nakedness he appears but a man ; and though his affections are higher mounted than ours , yet when they stoop , they stoop with the like wing . Therefore when he sees reason of fears , as we do , his fears , out of doubt , be of the same relish as ours are : yet , in reason , no man should possess him with any appearance of fear , lest he , by showing it , should dishearten his army .
+
+He may show what outward courage he will , but I believe , as cold a night as 'tis , he could wish himself in Thames up to the neck , and so I would he were , and I by him , at all adventures , so we were quit here .
+
+By my troth , I will speak my conscience of the king : I think he would not wish himself any where but where he is .
+
+Then I would he were here alone ; so should he be sure to be ransomed , and a many poor men's lives saved .
+
+I dare say you love him not so ill to wish him here alone , howsoever you speak this to feel other men's minds . Methinks I could not die any where so contented as in the king's company , his cause being just and his quarrel honourable .
+
+That's more than we know .
+
+Ay , or more than we should seek after ; for we know enough if we know we are the king's subjects . If his cause be wrong , our obedience to the king wipes the crime of it out of us .
+
+But if the cause be not good , the king himself hath a heavy reckoning to make ; when all those legs and arms and heads , chopped off in a battle , shall join together at the latter day , and cry all , 'We died at such a place ;' some swearing , some crying for a surgeon , some upon their wives left poor behind them , some upon the debts they owe , some upon their children rawly left . I am afeard there are few die well that die in a battle ; for how can they charitably dispose of any thing when blood is their argument ? Now , if these men do not die well , it will be a black matter for the king that led them to it , whom to disobey were against all proportion of subjection .
+
+So , if a son that is by his father sent about merchandise do sinfully miscarry upon the sea , the imputation of his wickedness , by your rule , should be imposed upon his father that sent him : or if a servant , under his master's command transporting a sum of money , be assailed by robbers and die in many irreconciled iniquities , you may call the business of the master the author of the servant's damnation . But this is not so : the king is not bound to answer the particular endings of his soldiers , the father of his son , nor the master of his servant ; for they purpose not their death when they purpose their services . Besides , there is no king , be his cause never so spotless , if it come to the arbitrement of swords , can try it out with all unspotted soldiers . Some , peradventure , have on them the guilt of premeditated and contrived murder ; some , of beguiling virgins with the broken seals of perjury ; some , making the wars their bulwark , that have before gored the gentle bosom of peace with pillage and robbery . Now , if these men have defeated the law and outrun native punishment , though they can outstrip men , they have no wings to fly from God : war is his beadle , war is his vengeance ; so that here men are punished for before-breach of the king's laws in now the king's quarrel : where they feared the death they have borne life away , and where they would be safe they perish . Then , if they die unprovided , no more is the king guilty of their damnation than he was before guilty of those impieties for the which they are now visited . Every subject's duty is the king's ; but every subject's soul is his own . Therefore should every soldier in the wars do as every sick man in his bed , wash every mote out of his conscience ; and dying so , death is to him advantage ; or not dying , the time was blessedly lost wherein such preparation was gained : and in him that escapes , it were not sin to think , that making God so free an offer , he let him outlive that day to see his greatness , and to teach others how they should prepare .
+
+'Tis certain , every man that dies ill , the ill upon his own head : the king is not to answer it .
+
+I do not desire he should answer for me ; and yet I determine to fight lustily for him .
+
+I myself heard the king say he would not be ransomed .
+
+Ay , he said so , to make us fight cheerfully ; but when our throats are cut he may be ransomed , and we ne'er the wiser .
+
+If I live to see it , I will never trust his word after .
+
+You pay him then . That's a perilous shot out of an elder-gun , that a poor and a private displeasure can do against a monarch . You may as well go about to turn the sun to ice with fanning in his face with a peacock's feather . You'll never trust his word after ! come , 'tis a foolish saying .
+
+Your reproof is something too round ; I should be angry with you if the time were convenient .
+
+Let it be a quarrel between us , if you live .
+
+I embrace it .
+
+How shall I know thee again ?
+
+Give me any gage of thine , and I will wear it in my bonnet : then , if ever thou darest acknowledge it , I will make it my quarrel .
+
+Here's my glove : give me another of thine .
+
+There .
+
+This will I also wear in my cap : if ever thou come to me and say after to-morrow , 'This is my glove ,' by this hand I will take thee a box on the ear .
+
+If ever I live to see it , I will challenge it .
+
+Thou darest as well be hanged .
+
+Well , I will do it , though I take thee in the king's company .
+
+Keep thy word : fare thee well .
+
+Be friends , you English fools , be friends : we have French quarrels enow , if you could tell how to reckon .
+
+Indeed , the French may lay twenty French crowns to one , they will beat us ; for they bear them on their shoulders : but it is no English treason to cut French crowns , and to-morrow the king himself will be a clipper .
+
+Upon the king ! let us our lives , our souls ,
+Our debts , our careful wives ,
+Our children , and our sins lay on the king !
+We must bear all . O hard condition !
+Twin-born with greatness , subject to the breath
+Of every fool , whose sense no more can feel
+But his own wringing . What infinite heart's ease
+Must kings neglect that private men enjoy !
+And what have kings that privates have not too ,
+Save ceremony , save general ceremony ?
+And what art thou , thou idle ceremony ?
+What kind of god art thou , that suffer'st more
+Of mortal griefs than do thy worshippers ?
+What are thy rents ? what are thy comings-in ?
+O ceremony ! show me but thy worth :
+What is thy soul of adoration ?
+Art thou aught else but place , degree , and form ,
+Creating awe and fear in other men ?
+Wherein thou art less happy , being fear'd ,
+Than they in fearing .
+What drink'st thou oft , instead of homage sweet ,
+But poison'd flattery ? O ! be sick , great greatness ,
+And bid thy ceremony give thee cure .
+Think'st thou the fiery fever will go out
+With titles blown from adulation ?
+Will it give place to flexure and low-bending ?
+Canst thou , when thou command'st the beggar's knee ,
+Command the health of it ? No , thou proud dream ,
+That play'st so subtly with a king's repose ;
+I am a king that find thee ; and I know
+'Tis not the balm , the sceptre and the ball ,
+The sword , the mace , the crown imperial ,
+The intertissued robe of gold and pearl ,
+The farced title running 'fore the king ,
+The throne he sits on , nor the tide of pomp
+That beats upon the high shore of this world ,
+No , not all these , thrice-gorgeous ceremony ,
+Not all these , laid in bed majestical ,
+Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave ,
+Who with a body fill'd and vacant mind
+Gets him to rest , cramm'd with distressful bread ;
+Never sees horrid night , the child of hell ,
+But , like a lackey , from the rise to set
+Sweats in the eye of Ph bus , and all night
+Sleeps in Elysium ; next day after dawn ,
+Doth rise and help Hyperion to his horse ,
+And follows so the ever-running year
+With profitable labour to his grave :
+And , but for ceremony , such a wretch ,
+Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep ,
+Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king .
+The slave , a member of the country's peace ,
+Enjoys it ; but in gross brain little wots
+What watch the king keeps to maintain the peace ,
+Whose hours the peasant best advantages .
+
+
+My lord , your nobles , jealous of your absence ,
+Seek through your camp to find you .
+
+Good old knight ,
+Collect them all together at my tent :
+I'll be before thee .
+
+I shall do't , my lord .
+
+
+O God of battles ! steel my soldiers' hearts ;
+Possess them not with fear ; take from them now
+The sense of reckoning , if the opposed numbers
+Pluck their hearts from them . Not to-day , O Lord !
+O ! not to-day , think not upon the fault
+My father made in compassing the crown .
+I Richard's body have interr'd anew ,
+And on it have bestow'd more contrite tears
+Than from it issu'd forced drops of blood .
+Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay ,
+Who twice a day their wither'd hands hold up
+Toward heaven , to pardon blood ; and I have built
+Two chantries , where the sad and solemn priests
+Sing still for Richard's soul . More will I do ;
+Though all that I can do is nothing worth ,
+Since that my penitence comes after all ,
+Imploring pardon .
+
+
+My liege !
+
+My brother Gloucester's voice ! Ay ;
+I know thy errand , I will go with thee :
+The day , my friends , and all things stay for me .
+
+
+The sun doth gild our armour : up , my lords !
+
+Montez cheval ! My horse ! varlet ! lacquais ! ha !
+
+O brave spirit !
+
+Via ! les eaux et la terre !
+
+Rien puis ? l'air et le feu .
+
+Ciel ! cousin Orleans .
+
+Now , my lord constable !
+
+Hark how our steeds for present service neigh !
+
+Mount them , and make incision in their hides ,
+That their hot blood may spin in English eyes ,
+And dout them with superfluous courage : ha !
+
+What ! will you have them weep our horses' blood ?
+How shall we then behold their natural tears ?
+
+
+The English are embattail'd , you French peers .
+
+To horse , you gallant princes ! straight to horse !
+Do but behold yon poor and starved band ,
+And your fair show shall suck away their souls ,
+Leaving them but the shales and husks of men .
+There is not work enough for all our hands ;
+Scarce blood enough in all their sickly veins
+To give each naked curtal-axe a stain ,
+That our French gallants shall to-day draw out ,
+And sheathe for lack of sport : let us but blow on them ,
+The vapour of our valour will o'erturn them .
+'Tis positive 'gainst all exceptions , lords ,
+That our superfluous lackeys and our peasants ,
+Who in unnecessary action swarm
+About our squares of battle , were enow
+To purge this field of such a hilding foe ,
+Though we upon this mountain's basis by
+Took stand for idle speculation :
+But that our honours must not . What's to say ?
+A very little little let us do ,
+And all is done . Then let the trumpets sound
+The tucket sonance and the note to mount :
+For our approach shall so much dare the field ,
+That England shall couch down in fear and yield .
+
+
+Why do you stay so long , my lords of France ?
+Yon island carrions desperate of their bones ,
+Ill-favour'dly become the morning field :
+Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose ,
+And our air shakes them passing scornfully :
+Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar'd host ,
+And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps :
+The horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks ,
+With torch-staves in their hand ; and their poor jades
+Lob down their heads , dropping the hides and hips ,
+The gum down-roping from their pale-dead eyes ,
+And in their pale dull mouths the gimmal bit
+Lies foul with chew'd grass , still and motionless ;
+And their executors , the knavish crows ,
+Fly o'er them , all impatient for their hour .
+Description cannot suit itself in words
+To demonstrate the life of such a battle
+In life so lifeless as it shows itself .
+
+They have said their prayers , and they stay for death .
+
+Shall we go send them dinners and fresh suits ,
+And give their fasting horses provender ,
+And after fight with them ?
+
+I stay but for my guard : on , to the field !
+I will the banner from a trumpet take ,
+And use it for my haste . Come , come , away !
+The sun is high , and we outwear the day .
+
+
+Where is the king ?
+
+The king himself is rode to view their battle .
+
+Of fighting men they have full three-score thousand .
+
+There's five to one ; besides , they all are fresh .
+
+God's arm strike with us ! 'tis a fearful odds .
+God be wi' you , princes all ; I'll to my charge :
+If we no more meet till we meet in heaven ,
+Then , joyfully , my noble Lord of Bedford ,
+My dear Lord Gloucester , and my good Lord Exeter ,
+And my kind kinsman , warriors all , adieu !
+
+Farewell , good Salisbury ; and good luck go with thee !
+
+Farewell , kind lord . Fight valiantly to-day :
+And yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it ,
+For thou art fram'd of the firm truth of valour .
+
+
+He is as full of valour as of kindness ;
+Princely in both .
+
+
+O ! that we now had here
+But one ten thousand of those men in England
+That do no work to-day .
+
+What's he that wishes so ?
+My cousin Westmoreland ? No , my fair cousin :
+If we are mark'd to die , we are enow
+To do our country loss ; and if to live ,
+The fewer men , the greater share of honour .
+God's will ! I pray thee , wish not one man more .
+By Jove , I am not covetous for gold ,
+Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost ;
+It yearns me not if men my garments wear ;
+Such outward things dwell not in my desires :
+But if it be a sin to covet honour ,
+I am the most offending soul alive .
+No , faith , my coz , wish not a man from England :
+God's peace ! I would not lose so great an honour
+As one man more , methinks , would share from me ,
+For the best hope I have . O ! do not wish one more :
+Rather proclaim it , Westmoreland , through my host ,
+That he which hath no stomach to this fight ,
+Let him depart ; his passport shall be made ,
+And crowns for convoy put into his purse :
+We would not die in that man's company
+That fears his fellowship to die with us .
+This day is call'd the feast of Crispian :
+He that outlives this day , and comes safe home ,
+Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd ,
+And rouse him at the name of Crispian .
+He that shall live this day , and see old age ,
+Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours ,
+And say , 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian :'
+Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars ,
+And say , 'These wounds I had on Crispin's day .'
+Old men forget : yet all shall be forgot ,
+But he'll remember with advantages
+What feats he did that day . Then shall our names ,
+Familiar in his mouth as household words ,
+Harry the king , Bedford and Exeter ,
+Warwick and Talbot , Salisbury and Gloucester ,
+Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd .
+This story shall the good man teach his son ;
+And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by ,
+From this day to the ending of the world ,
+But we in it shall be remembered ;
+We few , we happy few , we band of brothers ;
+For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
+Shall be my brother ; be he ne'er so vile
+This day shall gentle his condition :
+And gentlemen in England , now a-bed
+Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here ,
+And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
+That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day .
+
+
+My sov'reign lord , bestow yourself with speed :
+The French are bravely in their battles set ,
+And will with all expedience charge on us .
+
+All things are ready , if our minds be so .
+
+Perish the man whose mind is backward now !
+
+Thou dost not wish more help from England , coz ?
+
+God's will ! my liege , would you and I alone ,
+Without more help , could fight this royal battle !
+
+Why , now thou hast unwish'd five thousand men ;
+Which likes me better than to wish us one .
+You know your places : God be with you all !
+
+
+Once more I come to know of thee , King Harry ,
+If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound ,
+Before thy most assured overthrow :
+For certainly thou art so near the gulf
+Thou needs must be englutted . Besides , in mercy ,
+The constable desires thee thou wilt mind
+Thy followers of repentance ; that their souls
+May make a peaceful and a sweet retire
+From off these fields , where , wretches , their poor bodies
+Must lie and fester .
+
+Who hath sent thee now ?
+
+The Constable of France .
+
+I pray thee , bear my former answer back :
+Bid them achieve me and then sell my bones .
+Good God ! why should they mock poor fellows thus ?
+The man that once did sell the lion's skin
+While the beast liv'd , was kill'd with hunting him .
+A many of our bodies shall no doubt
+Find native graves ; upon the which , I trust ,
+Shall witness live in brass of this day's work ;
+And those that leave their valiant bones in France ,
+Dying like men , though buried in your dung-hills ,
+They shall be fam'd ; for there the sun shall greet them ,
+And draw their honours reeking up to heaven ,
+Leaving their earthly parts to choke your clime ,
+The smell whereof shall breed a plague in France .
+Mark then abounding valour in our English ,
+That being dead , like to the bullet's grazing ,
+Break out into a second course of mischief ,
+Killing in relapse of mortality .
+Let me speak proudly : tell the constable ,
+We are but warriors for the working-day ;
+Our gayness and our gilt are all besmirch'd
+With rainy marching in the painful field ;
+There's not a piece of feather in our host
+Good argument , I hope , we will not fly
+And time hath worn us into slovenry :
+But , by the mass , our hearts are in the trim ;
+And my poor soldiers tell me , yet ere night
+They'll be in fresher robes , or they will pluck
+The gay new coats o'er the French soldiers' heads ,
+And turn them out of service . If they do this ,
+As , if God please , they shall ,my ransom then
+Will soon be levied . Herald , save thou thy labour ;
+Come thou no more for ransom , gentle herald :
+They shall have none , I swear , but these my joints ;
+Which if they have as I will leave 'em them ,
+Shall yield them little , tell the constable .
+
+I shall , King Harry . And so , fare thee well :
+Thou never shalt hear herald any more .
+
+
+I fear thou'lt once more come again for ransom .
+
+
+My lord , most humbly on my knee I beg
+The leading of the vaward .
+
+Take it , brave York . Now , soldiers , march away :
+And how thou pleasest , God , dispose the day !
+
+
+Yield , cur !
+
+Je pense que vous estes le gentilhomme de bonne qualit .
+
+Quality ? Calen O custure me ! Art thou a gentleman ?
+What is thy name ? discuss .
+
+O Seigneur Dieu !
+
+O Signieur Dew should be a gentleman :
+Perpend my words , O Signieur Dew , and mark :
+O Signieur Dew , thou diest on point of fox
+Except , O signieur , thou do give to me
+Egregious ransom .
+
+O , prenez misericorde ! ayez piti de moy !
+
+Moy shall not serve ; I will have forty moys ;
+Or I will fetch thy rim out at thy throat
+In drops of crimson blood .
+
+Est-il impossible d'eschapper la force de ton bras ?
+
+Brass , cur !
+Thou damned and luxurious mountain goat ,
+Offer'st me brass ?
+
+O pardonnez moy !
+
+Sayst thou me so ? is that a ton of moys ?
+Come hither , boy : ask me this slave in French
+What is his name .
+
+Escoutez : comment estes vous appell ?
+
+Monsieur le Fer .
+
+He says his name is Master Fer .
+
+Master Fer ! I'll fer him , and firk him , and ferret him . Discuss the same in French unto him .
+
+I do not know the French for fer , and ferret , and firk .
+
+Bid him prepare , for I will cut his throat .
+
+Que dit-il , monsieur ?
+
+Il me commande vous dire que vous faites vous prest ; car ce soldat icy est dispos tout cette heure de couper vostre gorge .
+
+Ouy , cuppele gorge , permafoy .
+Peasant , unless thou give me crowns , brave crowns ;
+Or mangled shalt thou be by this my sword .
+
+O ! je vous supplie pour l'amour de
+Dieu , me pardonner ! Je suis le gentilhomme de bonne maison : gardez ma vie , et je vous donneray deux cents escus .
+
+What are his words ?
+
+He prays you to save his life : he is a gentleman of a good house ; and , for his ransom he will give you two hundred crowns .
+
+Tell him , my fury shall abate , and I
+The crowns will take .
+
+Petit monsieur , que dit-il ?
+
+Encore qu'il est contre son jurement de pardonner aucan prisonnier ; neant-moins , pour les escus que vous l'avez promis , il est content de vous donner la liberte , le franchisement .
+
+Sur mes genoux , je vous donne mille remerciemens ; et je m'estime heureux que je suis tomb entre les mains d'un chevalier , je pense , le plus brave , valiant , et tr s distingu seigneur d'Angleterre .
+
+Expound unto me , boy .
+
+He gives you , upon his knees , a thousand thanks ; and he esteems himself happy that he hath fallen into the hands of one as he thinks the most brave , valorous , and thrice-worthy signieur of England .
+
+As I suck blood , I will some mercy show .
+Follow me !
+
+
+Suivez vous le grand capitaine . I did never know so full a voice issue from so empty a heart : but the saying is true , 'The empty vessel makes the greatest sound .' Bardolph and Nym had ten times more valour than this roaring devil i' the old play , that every one may pare his nails with a wooden dagger ; and they are both hanged ; and so would this be if he durst steal anything adventurously . I must stay with the lackeys , with the luggage of our camp : the French might have a good prey of us , if he knew of it ; for there is none to guard it but boys .
+
+
+O seigneur ! le jour est perdu ! tout est perdu !
+
+Mort de ma vie ! all is confounded , all !
+Reproach and everlasting shame
+Sit mocking in our plumes . O meschante fortune !
+Do not run away .
+
+
+Why , all our ranks are broke .
+
+O perdurable shame ! let's stab ourselves .
+Be these the wretches that we play'd at dice for ?
+
+Is this the king we sent to for his ransom ?
+
+Shame , and eternal shame , nothing but shame !
+Let's die in honour ! once more back again ;
+And he that will not follow Bourbon now ,
+Let him go hence , and with his cap in hand ,
+Like a base pander , hold the chamber-door
+Whilst by a slave , no gentler than my dog ,
+His fairest daughter is contaminated .
+
+Disorder , that hath spoil'd us , friend us now !
+Let us on heaps go offer up our lives .
+
+We are enough yet living in the field
+To smother up the English in our throngs ,
+If any order might be thought upon .
+
+The devil take order now ! I'll to the throng :
+Let life be short , else shame will be too long .
+
+
+Well have we done , thrice-valiant countrymen :
+But all's not done ; yet keep the French the field .
+
+The Duke of York commends him to your majesty .
+
+Lives he , good uncle ? thrice within this hour
+I saw him down ; thrice up again , and fighting ;
+From helmet to the spur all blood he was .
+
+In which array , brave soldier , doth he lie ,
+Larding the plain ; and by his bloody side ,
+Yoke-fellow to his honour-owing wounds ,
+The noble Earl of Suffolk also lies .
+Suffolk first died : and York , all haggled over ,
+Comes to him , where in gore he lay insteep'd ,
+And takes him by the beard , kisses the gashes
+That bloodily did yawn upon his face ;
+And cries aloud , 'Tarry , dear cousin Suffolk !
+My soul shall thine keep company to heaven ;
+Tarry , sweet soul , for mine , then fly abreast ,
+As in this glorious and well-foughten field ,
+We kept together in our chivalry !'
+Upon these words I came and cheer'd him up :
+He smil'd me in the face , raught me his hand ,
+And with a feeble gripe says , 'Dear my lord ,
+Commend my service to my sovereign .'
+So did he turn , and over Suffolk's neck
+He threw his wounded arm , and kiss'd his lips ;
+And so espous'd to death , with blood he seal'd
+A testament of noble-ending love .
+The pretty and sweet manner of it forc'd
+Those waters from me which I would have stopp'd ;
+But I had not so much of man in me ,
+And all my mother came into mine eyes
+And gave me up to tears .
+
+I blame you not ;
+For , hearing this , I must perforce compound
+With mistful eyes , or they will issue too .
+
+But hark ! what new alarum is this same ?
+The French have reinforc'd their scatter'd men :
+Then every soldier kill his prisoners !
+Give the word through .
+
+
+Kill the poys and the luggage ! 'tis expressly against the law of arms : 'tis as arrant a piece of knavery , mark you now , as can be offer't : in your conscience now , is it not ?
+
+'Tis certain , there's not a boy left alive ; and the cowardly rascals that ran from the battle have done this slaughter : besides , they have burned and carried away all that was in the king's tent ; wherefore the king most worthily hath caused every soldier to cut his prisoner's throat . O ! 'tis a gallant king .
+
+Ay , he was porn at Monmouth , Captain Gower . What call you the town's name where Alexander the Pig was born ?
+
+Alexander the Great .
+
+Why , I pray you , is not pig great ? The pig , or the great , or the mighty , or the huge , or the magnanimous , are all one reckonings , save the phrase is a little variations .
+
+I think Alexander the Great was born in Macedon : his father was called Philip of Macedon , as I take it .
+
+I think it is in Macedon where Alexander is porn . I tell you , captain , if you look in the maps of the 'orld , I warrant you sall find , in the comparisons between Macedon and Monmouth , that the situations , look you , is both alike . There is a river in Macedon , and there is also moreover a river at Monmouth : it is called Wye at Monmouth ; but it is out of my prains what is the name of the other river ; but 'tis all one , 'tis alike as my fingers is to my fingers , and there is salmons in both . If you mark Alexander's life well , Harry of Monmouth's life is come after it indifferent well ; for there is figures in all things . Alexander ,God knows , and you know ,in his rages , and his furies , and his wraths , and his cholers , and his moods , and his displeasures , and his indignations , and also being a little intoxicates in his prains , did , in his ales and his angers , look you , kill his pest friend , Cleitus .
+
+Our king is not like him in that : he never killed any of his friends .
+
+It is not well done , mark you now , to take the tales out of my mouth , ere it is made and finished . I speak but in the figures and comparisons of it : as Alexander killed his friend Cleitus , being in his ales and his cups , so also Harry Monmouth , being in his right wits and his good judgments , turned away the fat knight with the great belly-doublet : he was full of jests , and gipes , and knaveries , and mocks ; I have forgot his name .
+
+Sir John Falstaff .
+
+That is he . I'll tell you , there is goot men porn at Monmouth .
+
+Here comes his majesty .
+
+I was not angry since I came to France
+Until this instant . Take a trumpet , herald ;
+Ride thou unto the horsemen on yon hill :
+If they will fight with us , bid them come down ,
+Or void the field ; they do offend our sight .
+If they'll do neither , we will come to them ,
+And make them skirr away , as swift as stones
+Enforced from the old Assyrian slings .
+Besides , we'll cut the throats of those we have ,
+And not a man of them that we shall take
+Shall taste our mercy . Go and tell them so .
+
+
+Here comes the herald of the French , my liege .
+
+His eyes are humbler than they us'd to be .
+
+How now ! what means this , herald ? know'st thou not
+That I have fin'd these bones of mine for ransom ?
+Com'st thou again for ransom ?
+
+No , great king .
+I come to thee for charitable licence ,
+That we may wander o'er this bloody field
+To book our dead , and then to bury them ;
+To sort our nobles from our common men ;
+For many of our princes woe the while !
+Lie drown'd and soak'd in mercenary blood ;
+So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbs
+In blood of princes ; and their wounded steeds
+Fret fetlock-deep in gore , and with wild rage
+Yerk out their armed heels at their dead masters ,
+Killing them twice . O ! give us leave , great king ,
+To view the field in safety and dispose
+Of their dead bodies .
+
+I tell thee truly , herald ,
+I know not if the day be ours or no ;
+For yet a many of your horsemen peer
+And gallop o'er the field .
+
+The day is yours .
+
+Praised be God , and not our strength , for it !
+What is this castle call'd that stands hard by ?
+
+They call it Agincourt .
+
+Then call we this the field of Agincourt ,
+Fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus .
+
+Your grandfather of famous memory , an't please your majesty , and your great-uncle Edward the Plack Prince of Wales , as I have read in the chronicles , fought a most prave pattle here in France .
+
+They did , Fluellen .
+
+Your majesty says very true . If your majesties is remembered of it , the Welshmen did good service in a garden where leeks did grow , wearing leeks in their Monmouth caps ; which , your majesty know , to this hour is an honourable badge of the service ; and I do believe , your majesty takes no scorn to wear the leek upon Saint Tavy's day .
+
+I wear it for a memorable honour ; For I am Welsh , you know , good countryman .
+
+All the water in Wye cannot wash your majesty's Welsh plood out of your pody , I can tell you that : Got pless it and preserve it , as long as it pleases his grace , and his majesty too !
+
+Thanks , good my countryman .
+
+By Jeshu , I am your majesty's countryman , I care not who know it ; I will confess it to all the 'orld : I need not be ashamed of your majesty , praised be God , so long as your majesty is an honest man .
+
+God keep me so ! Our heralds go with him :
+Bring me just notice of the numbers dead
+On both our parts . Call yonder fellow hither .
+
+
+Soldier , you must come to the king .
+
+Soldier , why wear'st thou that glove in thy cap ?
+
+An't please your majesty , 'tis the gage of one that I should fight withal , if he be alive .
+
+An Englishman ?
+
+An't please your majesty , a rascal that swaggered with me last night ; who , if a' live and ever dare to challenge this glove , I have sworn to take him a box o' the ear : or , if I can see my glove in his cap ,which he swore as he was a soldier he would wear if alive ,I will strike it out soundly .
+
+What think you , Captain Fluellen ? is it fit this soldier keep his oath ?
+
+He is a craven and a villain else , an't please your majesty , in my conscience .
+
+It may be his enemy is a gentleman of great sort , quite from the answer of his degree .
+
+Though he be as good a gentleman as the devil is , as Lucifer and Belzebub himself , it is necessary , look your Grace , that he keep his vow and his oath . If he be perjured , see you now , his reputation is as arrant a villain and a Jack-sauce as ever his black shoe trod upon God's ground and his earth , in my conscience , la !
+
+Then keep thy vow , sirrah , when thou meetest the fellow .
+
+So I will , my liege , as I live .
+
+Who servest thou under ?
+
+Under Captain Gower , my liege .
+
+Gower is a goot captain , and is good knowledge and literatured in the wars .
+
+Call him hither to me , soldier .
+
+I will , my liege .
+
+
+Here , Fluellen ; wear thou this favour for me and stick it in thy cap . When Alen on and myself were down together I plucked this glove from his helm : if any man challenge this , he is a friend to Alen on , and an enemy to our person ; if thou encounter any such , apprehend him , an thou dost me love .
+
+Your Grace does me as great honours as can be desired in the hearts of his subjects : I would fain see the man that has but two legs that shall find himself aggriefed at this glove , that is all ; but I would fain see it once , and please God of his grace that I might see .
+
+Knowest thou Gower ?
+
+He is my dear friend , an't please you .
+
+Pray thee , go seek him , and bring him to my tent .
+
+I will fetch him .
+
+
+My Lord of Warwick , and my brother Gloucester ,
+Follow Fluellen closely at the heels .
+The glove which I have given him for a favour ,
+May haply purchase him a box o' the ear ;
+It is the soldier's ; I by bargain should
+Wear it myself . Follow , good cousin Warwick :
+If that the soldier strike him ,as , I judge
+By his blunt bearing he will keep his word ,
+Some sudden mischief may arise of it ;
+For I do know Fluellen valiant ,
+And touch'd with choler , hot as gunpowder ,
+And quickly will return an injury :
+Follow and see there be no harm between them .
+Go you with me , uncle of Exeter .
+
+
+I warrant it is to knight you , captain .
+
+
+God's will and his pleasure , captain , I peseech you now come apace to the king : there is more good toward you peradventure than is in your knowledge to dream of .
+
+Sir , know you this glove ?
+
+Know the glove ! I know the glove is a glove .
+
+I know this ; and thus I challenge it .
+
+
+'Sblood ! an arrant traitor as any's in the universal 'orld , or in France , or in England
+
+How now , sir ! you villain !
+
+Do you think I'll be forsworn ?
+
+Stand away , Captain Gower ; I will give treason his payment into plows , I warrant you .
+
+I am no traitor .
+
+That's a lie in thy throat . I charge you in his majesty's name , apprehend him : he is a friend of the Duke Alen on's .
+
+
+How now , how now ! what's the matter ?
+
+My Lord of Warwick , here is ,praised be God for it !a most contagious treason come to light , look you , as you shall desire in a summer's day . Here is his majesty .
+
+
+How now ! what's the matter ?
+
+My liege , here is a villain and a traitor , that , look your Grace , has struck the glove which your majesty is take out of the helmet of Alen on .
+
+My liege , this was my glove ; here is the fellow of it ; and he that I gave it to in change promised to wear it in his cap : I promised to strike him , if he did : I met this man with my glove in his cap , and I have been as good as my word .
+
+Your majesty hear now ,saving your majesty's manhood ,what an arrant , rascally , beggarly , lousy knave it is . I hope your majesty is pear me testimony and witness , and avouchments , that this is the glove of Alen on that your majesty is give me ; in your conscience now .
+
+Give me thy glove , soldier : look , here is the fellow of it .
+'Twas I , indeed , thou promisedst to strike ;
+And thou hast given me most bitter terms .
+
+An't please your majesty , let his neck answer for it , if there is any martial law in the 'orld .
+
+How canst thou make me satisfaction ?
+
+All offences , my lord , come from the heart : never came any from mine that might offend your majesty .
+
+It was ourself thou didst abuse .
+
+Your majesty came not like yourself : you appeared to me but as a common man ; witness the night , your garments , your lowliness ; and what your highness suffered under that shape , I beseech you , take it for your own fault and not mine : for had you been as I took you for I made no offence ; therefore , I beseech your highness , pardon me .
+
+Here , uncle Exeter , fill this glove with crowns ,
+And give it to this fellow . Keep it , fellow ;
+And wear it for an honour in thy cap
+Till I do challenge it . Give him the crowns :
+And , captain , you must needs be friends with him .
+
+By this day and this light , the fellow has mettle enough in his belly . Hold , there is twelve pence for you , and I pray you to serve God , and keep you out of prawls , and prabbles , and quarrels , and dissensions , and , I warrant you , it is the better for you .
+
+I will none of your money .
+
+It is with a good will ; I can tell you it will serve you to mend your shoes : come , wherefore should you be so pashful ? your shoes is not so good : 'tis a good shilling , I warrant you , or I will change it .
+
+
+Now , herald , are the dead number'd ?
+
+Here is the number of the slaughter'd French .
+
+
+What prisoners of good sort are taken , uncle ?
+
+Charles Duke of Orleans , nephew to the king ;
+John Duke of Bourbon , and Lord Bouciqualt :
+Of other lords and barons , knights and squires ,
+Full fifteen hundred , besides common men .
+
+This note doth tell me of ten thousand French
+That in the field lie slain : of princes , in this number ,
+And nobles bearing banners , there lie dead
+One hundred twenty-six : added to these ,
+Of knights , esquires , and gallant gentlemen ,
+Eight thousand and four hundred ; of the which
+Five hundred were but yesterday dubb'd knights :
+So that , in these ten thousand they have lost ,
+There are but sixteen hundred mercenaries ;
+The rest are princes , barons , lords , knights , squires ,
+And gentlemen of blood and quality .
+The names of those their nobles that lie dead :
+Charles Delabreth , High Constable of France ;
+Jaques of Chatillon , Admiral of France ;
+The master of the cross-bows , Lord Rambures ;
+Great-master of France , the brave Sir Guischard Dauphin ;
+John Duke of Alen on ; Antony Duke of Brabant ,
+The brother to the Duke of Burgundy ,
+And Edward Duke of Bar : of lusty earls ,
+Grandpr and Roussi , Fauconberg and Foix ,
+Beaumont and Marle , Vaudemont and Lestrale .
+Here was a royal fellowship of death !
+Where is the number of our English dead ?
+
+Edward the Duke of York , the Earl of Suffolk ,
+Sir Richard Ketly , Davy Gam , esquire :
+None else of name : and of all other men
+But five and twenty . O God ! thy arm was here ;
+And not to us , but to thy arm alone ,
+Ascribe we all . When , without stratagem ,
+But in plain shock and even play of battle ,
+Was ever known so great and little loss
+On one part and on the other ? Take it , God ,
+For it is none but thine !
+
+'Tis wonderful !
+
+Come , go we in procession to the village :
+And be it death proclaimed through our host
+To boast of this or take the praise from God
+Which is his only .
+
+Is it not lawful , an please your majesty , to tell how many is killed ?
+
+Yes , captain ; but with this acknowledgment ,
+That God fought for us .
+
+Yes , my conscience , he did us great good .
+
+Do we all holy rites :
+Let there be sung Non nobis and Te Deum ;
+The dead with charity enclos'd in clay .
+We'll then to Calais ; and to England then ,
+Where ne'er from France arriv'd more happy men .
+
+Vouchsafe to those that have not read the story ,
+That I may prompt them : and of such as have ,
+I humbly pray them to admit the excuse
+Of time , of numbers , and due course of things ,
+Which cannot in their huge and proper life
+Be here presented . Now we bear the king
+Toward Calais : grant him there ; there seen ,
+Heave him away upon your winged thoughts
+Athwart the sea . Behold , the English beach
+Pales in the flood with men , with wives , and boys ,
+Whose shouts and claps out-voice the deep-mouth'd sea ,
+Which , like a mighty whiffler 'fore the king ,
+Seems to prepare his way : so let him land
+And solemnly see him set on to London .
+So swift a pace hath thought that even now
+You may imagine him upon Blackheath ;
+Where that his lords desire him to have borne
+His bruised helmet and his bended sword
+Before him through the city : he forbids it ,
+Being free from vainness and self-glorious pride ;
+Giving full trophy , signal and ostent ,
+Quite from himself , to God . But now behold ,
+In the quick forge and working-house of thought ,
+How London doth pour out her citizens .
+The mayor and all his brethren in best sort ,
+Like to the senators of the antique Rome ,
+With the plebeians swarming at their heels ,
+Go forth and fetch their conquering C sar in :
+As , by a lower but loving likelihood ,
+Were now the general of our gracious empress ,
+As in good time he may ,from Ireland coming ,
+Bringing rebellion broached on his sword ,
+How many would the peaceful city quit
+To welcome him ! much more , and much more cause ,
+Did they this Harry . Now in London place him ;
+As yet the lamentation of the French
+Invites the King of England's stay at home ,
+The emperor's coming in behalf of France ,
+To order peace between them ;and omit
+All the occurrences , whatever chanc'd ,
+Till Harry's back-return again to France :
+There must we bring him ; and myself have play'd
+The interim , by remembering you 'tis past .
+Then brook abridgment , and your eyes advance ,
+After your thoughts , straight back again to France .
+
+Nay , that's right ; but why wear you your leek to-day ? Saint Davy's day is past .
+
+There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all things : I will tell you , asse my friend , Captain Gower . The rascally , scald , beggarly , lousy , pragging knave , Pistol ,which you and yourself and all the 'orld know to be no petter than a fellow ,look you now , of no merits , he is come to me and prings me pread and salt yesterday , look you , and pid me eat my leek . It was in a place where I could not preed no contention with him ; but I will be so pold as to wear it in my cap till I see him once again , and then I will tell him a little piece of my desires .
+
+Why , here he comes , swelling like a turkey-cock .
+
+
+'Tis no matter for his swellings nor his turkey-cocks . God pless you , Aunchient Pistol ! you scurvy , lousy knave , God pless you !
+
+Ha ! art thou bedlam ? dost thou thirst , base Troyan ,
+To have me fold up Parca's fatal web ?
+Hence ! I am qualmish at the smell of leek .
+
+I peseech you heartily , scurvy lousy knave , at my desires and my requests and my petitions to eat , look you , this leek ; pecause , look you , you do not love it , nor your affections and your appetites and your digestions does not agree with it , I would desire you to eat it .
+
+Not for Cadwallader and all his goats .
+
+There is one goat for you .
+Will you be so good , scald knave , as eat it ?
+
+Base Troyan , thou shalt die .
+
+You say very true , scald knave , when
+God's will is . I will desire you to live in the mean time and eat your victuals ; come , there is sauce for it .
+
+You called me yesterday mountain-squire , but I will make you to-day a squire of low degree . I pray you , fall to : if you can mock a leek you can eat a leek .
+
+Enough , captain : you have astonished him .
+
+I say , I will make him eat some part of my leek , or I will peat his pate four days . Bite , I pray you ; it is good for your green wound and your ploody coxcomb .
+
+Must I bite ?
+
+Yes , certainly , and out of doubt and out of question too and ambiguities .
+
+By this leek , I will most horribly revenge . I eat and eat , I swear
+
+Eat , I pray you : will you have some more sauce to your leek ? there is not enough leek to swear by .
+
+Quiet thy cudgel : thou dost see I eat .
+
+Much good do you , scald knave , heartily . Nay , pray you , throw none away ; the skin is good for your broken coxcomb . When you take occasions to see leeks hereafter , I pray you , mock at 'em ; that is all .
+
+Good .
+
+Ay , leeks is good . Hold you , there is a groat to heal your pate .
+
+Me a groat !
+
+Yes , verily and in truth , you shall take it ; or I have another leek in my pocket , which you shall eat .
+
+I take thy groat in earnest of revenge .
+
+If I owe you anything I will pay you in cudgels : you shall be a woodmonger , and buy nothing of me but cudgels . God be wi' you , and keep you , and heal your pate .
+
+
+All hell shall stir for this .
+
+Go , go ; you are a counterfeit cowardly knave . Will you mock at an ancient tradition , begun upon an honourable respect , and worn as a memorable trophy of predeceased valour , and dare not a vouch in your deeds any of your words ? I have seen you gleeking and galling at this gentleman twice or thrice . You thought , because he could not speak English in the native garb , he could not therefore handle an English cudgel : you find it otherwise ; and henceforth let a Welsh correction teach you a good English condition . Fare ye well .
+
+
+Doth Fortune play the huswife with me now ?
+News have I that my Nell is dead i' the spital
+Of malady of France :
+And there my rendezvous is quite cut off .
+Old I do wax , and from my weary limbs
+Honour is cudgelled . Well , bawd I'll turn ,
+And something lean to cutpurse of quick hand .
+To England will I steal , and there I'll steal :
+And patches will I get unto these cudgell'd scars ,
+And swear I got them in the Gallia wars .
+
+Peace to this meeting , wherefore we are met !
+Unto our brother France , and to our sister ,
+Health and fair time of day ; joy and good wishes
+To our most fair and princely cousin Katharine ;
+And , as a branch and member of this royalty ,
+By whom this great assembly is contriv'd ,
+We do salute you , Duke of Burgundy ;
+And , princes French , and peers , health to you all !
+
+Right joyous are we to behold your face ,
+Most worthy brother England ; fairly met :
+So are you , princes English , every one .
+
+So happy be the issue , brother England ,
+Of this good day and of this gracious meeting ,
+As we are now glad to behold your eyes ;
+Your eyes , which hitherto have borne in them
+Against the French , that met them in their bent ,
+The fatal balls of murdering basilisks :
+The venom of such looks , we fairly hope ,
+Have lost their quality , and that this day
+Shall change all griefs and quarrels into love .
+
+To cry amen to that , thus we appear .
+
+You English princes all , I do salute you .
+
+My duty to you both , on equal love ,
+Great Kings of France and England ! That I have labour'd
+With all my wits , my pains , and strong endeavours ,
+To bring your most imperial majesties
+Unto this bar and royal interview ,
+Your mightiness on both parts best can witness .
+Since then my office hath so far prevail'd
+That face to face , and royal eye to eye ,
+You have congreeted , let it not disgrace me
+If I demand before this royal view ,
+What rub or what impediment there is ,
+Why that the naked , poor , and mangled Peace ,
+Dear nurse of arts , plenties , and joyful births ,
+Should not in this best garden of the world ,
+Our fertile France , put up her lovely visage ?
+Alas ! she hath from France too long been chas'd ,
+And all her husbandry doth lie on heaps ,
+Corrupting in its own fertility .
+Her vine , the merry cheerer of the heart ,
+Unpruned dies ; her hedges even-pleach'd ,
+Like prisoners wildly overgrown with hair ,
+Put forth disorder'd twigs ; her fallow leas
+The darnel , hemlock and rank fumitory
+Doth root upon , while that the coulter rusts
+That should deracinate such savagery ;
+The even mead , that erst brought sweetly forth
+The freckled cowslip , burnet , and green clover ,
+Wanting the scythe , all uncorrected , rank ,
+Conceives by idleness , and nothing teems
+But hateful docks , rough thistles , kecksies , burs ,
+Losing both beauty and utility ;
+And as our vineyards , fallows , meads , and hedges ,
+Defective in their natures , grow to wildness ,
+Even so our houses and ourselves and children
+Have lost , or do not learn for want of time ,
+The sciences that should become our country ,
+But grow like savages ,as soldiers will ,
+That nothing do but meditate on blood ,
+To swearing and stern looks , diffus'd attire ,
+And every thing that seems unnatural .
+Which to reduce into our former favour
+You are assembled ; and my speech entreats
+That I may know the let why gentle Peace
+Should not expel these inconveniences ,
+And bless us with her former qualities .
+
+If , Duke of Burgundy , you would the peace ,
+Whose want gives growth to the imperfections
+Which you have cited , you must buy that peace
+With full accord to all our just demands ;
+Whose tenours and particular effects
+You have , enschedul'd briefly , in your hands .
+
+The king hath heard them ; to the which as yet ,
+There is no answer made .
+
+Well then the peace ,
+Which you before so urg'd , lies in his answer .
+
+I have but with a cursorary eye
+O'erglanc'd the articles : pleaseth your Grace
+To appoint some of your council presently
+To sit with us once more , with better heed
+To re-survey them , we will suddenly
+Pass our accept and peremptory answer .
+
+Brother , we shall . Go , uncle Exeter ,
+And brother Clarence , and you , brother Gloucester ,
+Warwick and Huntingdon , go with the king ;
+And take with you free power to ratify ,
+Augment , or alter , as your wisdoms best
+Shall see advantageable for our dignity ,
+Anything in or out of our demands ,
+And we'll consign thereto . Will you , fair sister ,
+Go with the princes , or stay here with us ?
+
+Our gracious brother , I will go with them .
+Haply a woman's voice may do some good
+When articles too nicely urg'd be stood on .
+
+Yet leave our cousin Katharine here with us :
+She is our capital demand , compris'd
+Within the fore-rank of our articles .
+
+She hath good leave .
+
+
+Fair Katharine , and most fair !
+Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms ,
+Such as will enter at a lady's ear ,
+And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart ?
+
+Your majesty sall mock at me ; I cannot speak your England .
+
+O fair Katharine ! if you will love me soundly with your French heart , I will be glad to hear you confess it brokenly with your English tongue . Do you like me , Kate ?
+
+Pardonnez moy , I cannot tell vat is 'like me .'
+
+An angel is like you , Kate ; and you are like an angel .
+
+Que dit-il ? que je suis semblable les anges ?
+
+Ouy , vrayment , sauf vostre grace , ainsi dit-il .
+
+I said so , dear Katharine ; and I must not blush to affirm it .
+
+O bon Dieu ! les langues des hommes sont pleines des tromperies .
+
+What says she , fair one ? that the tongues of men are full of deceits ?
+
+Ouy , dat de tongues of de mans is be full of deceits : dat is de princess .
+
+The princess is the better Englishwoman . I' faith , Kate , my wooing is fit for thy understanding : I am glad thou canst speak no better English ; for , if thou couldst , thou wouldst find me such a plain king that thou wouldst think I had sold my farm to buy my crown . I know no ways to mince it in love , but directly to say 'I love you :' then , if you urge me further than to say 'Do you in faith ?' I wear out my suit . Give me your answer ; i' faith do : and so clap hands and a bargain . How say you , lady ?
+
+Sauf vostre honneur , me understand vell .
+
+Marry , if you would put me to verses , or to dance for your sake , Kate , why you undid me : for the one , I have neither words nor measure , and for the other , I have no strength in measure , yet a reasonable measure in strength . If I could win a lady at leap-frog , or by vaulting into my saddle with my armour on my back , under the correction of bragging be it spoken , I should quickly leap into a wife . Or if I might buffet for my love , or bound my horse for her favours , I could lay on like a butcher and sit like a jack-an-apes , never off . But before God , Kate , I cannot look greenly nor gasp out my eloquence , nor I have no cunning in protestation ; only downright oaths , which I never use till urged , nor never break for urging . If thou caust love a fellow of this temper , Kate . whose face is not worth sun-burning , that never looks in his glass for love of anything he sees there , let thine eye be thy cook . I speak to thee plain soldier : if thou canst love me for this , take me ; if not , to say to thee that I shall die , is true ; but for thy love , by the Lord , no ; yet I love thee too . And while thou livest , dear Kate , take a fellow of plain and uncoined constancy , for he perforce must do thee right , because he hath not the gift to woo in other places ; for these fellows of infinite tongue , that can rime themselves into ladies' favours , they do always reason themselves out again . What ! a speaker is but a prater ; a rime is but a ballad . A good leg will fall , a straight back will stoop , a black beard will turn white , a curled pate will grow bald , a fair face will wither , a full eye will wax hollow , but a good heart , Kate , is the sun and the moon ; or , rather , the sun , and not the moon ; for it shines bright and never changes , but keeps his course truly . If thou would have such a one , take me ; and take me , take a soldier ; take a soldier , take a king . And what sayest thou then to my love ? speak , my fair , and fairly , I pray thee .
+
+Is it possible dat I sould love de enemy of France ?
+
+No ; it is not possible you should love the enemy of France , Kate ; but , in loving me , you should love the friend of France ; for I love France so well , that I will not part with a village of it ; I will have it all mine : and , Kate , when France is mine and I am yours , then yours is France and you are mine .
+
+I cannot tell vat is dat .
+
+No , Kate ? I will tell thee in French , which I am sure will hang upon my tongue like a new-married wife about her husband's neck , hardly to be shook off . Je quand sur le possession de France , et quand vous avez le possession de moy ,let me see , what then ? Saint Denis be my speed !donc vostre est France , et vous estes mienne . It is as easy for me , Kate , to conquer the kingdom , as to speak so much more French : I shall never move thee in French , unless it be to laugh at me .
+
+Sauf vostre honneur , le Fran ois que vous parlez est meilleur que l'Anglois lequel je parle .
+
+No , faith , is't not , Kate ; but thy speaking of my tongue , and I thine , most truly falsely , must needs be granted to be much at one . But , Kate , dost thou understand thus much English , Canst thou love me ?
+
+I cannot tell .
+
+Can any of your neighbours tell , Kate ? I'll ask them . Come , I know thou lovest me ; and at night when you come into your closet you'll question this gentlewoman about me ; and I know , Kate , you will to her dispraise those parts in me that you love with your heart : but , good Kate , mock me mercifully ; the rather , gentle princess , because I love thee cruelly . If ever thou be'st mine , Kate ,as I have a saving faith within me tells me thou shalt ,I get thee with scambling , and thou must therefore needs prove a good soldier-breeder . Shall not thou and I , between Saint Denis and Saint George , compound a boy , half French , half English , that shall go to Constantinople and take the Turk by the beard ? shall we not ? what sayest thou , my fair flower-de-luce ?
+
+I do not know dat .
+
+No ; 'tis hereafter to know , but now to promise : do but now promise , Kate , you will endeavour for your French part of such a boy , and for my English moiety take the word of a king and a bachelor . How answer you , la plus belle Katharine du monde , mon tr s cher et divine d esse ?
+
+Your majest ave fausse French enough to deceive de most sage demoiselle dat is en France .
+
+Now , fie upon my false French ! By mine honour , in true English I love thee , Kate : by which honour I dare not swear thou lovest me ; yet my blood begins to flatter me that thou dost , notwithstanding the poor and untempering effect of my visage . Now beshrew my father's ambition ! he was thinking of civil wars when he got me : therefore was I created with a stubborn outside , with an aspect of iron , that , when I come to woo ladies I fright them . But , in faith , Kate , the elder I wax the better I shall appear : my comfort is , that old age , that ill layer-up of beauty , can do no more spoil upon my face : thou hast me , if thou hast me , at the worst ; and thou shalt wear me , if thou wear me , better and better . And therefore tell me , most fair Katharine , will you have me ? Put off your maiden blushes ; avouch the thoughts of your heart with the looks of an empress ; take me by the hand , and say 'Harry of England , I am thine :' which word thou shalt no sooner bless mine ear withal , but I will tell thee aloud 'England is thine , Ireland is thine , France is thine , and Henry Plantagenet is thine ;' who , though I speak it before his face , if he be not fellow with the best king , thou shalt find the best king of good fellows . Come , your answer in broken music ; for thy voice is music , and thy English broken ; therefore , queen of all , Katharine , break thy mind to me in broken English : wilt thou have me ?
+
+Dat is as it sall please de roy mon p re .
+
+Nay , it will please him well , Kate ; it shall please him , Kate .
+
+Den it sall also content me .
+
+Upon that I kiss your hand , and I call you my queen .
+
+Laissez , mon seigneur , laissez , laissez ! Ma foy , je ne veux point que vous abaissez vostre grandeur , en baisant la main d'une vostre indigne serviteure : excusez moy , je vous supplie , mon tr s puissant seigneur .
+
+Then I will kiss your lips , Kate .
+
+Les dames , et demoiselles , pour estre bais es devant leur noces , il n'est pas la coutume de France .
+
+Madam my interpreter , what says she ?
+
+Dat it is not be de fashion pour les ladies of France ,I cannot tell what is baiser in English .
+
+To kiss .
+
+Your majesty entendre bettre que moy .
+
+It is not a fashion for the maids in France to kiss before they are married , would she say ?
+
+Ouy , vrayment .
+
+O Kate ! nice customs curtsy to great kings . Dear Kate , you and I cannot be confined within the weak list of a country's fashion : we are the makers of manners , Kate ; and the liberty that follows our places stops the mouths of all find-faults , as I will do yours , for upholding the nice fashion of your country in denying me a kiss : therefore , patiently , and yielding
+
+. You have witchcraft in your lips , Kate : there is more eloquence in a sugar touch of them , than in the tongues of the French council ; and they should sooner persuade Harry of England than a general petition of monarchs . Here comes your father .
+
+God save your majesty ! My royal cousin , teach you our princess English ?
+
+I would have her learn , my fair cousin , how perfectly I love her ; and that is good English .
+
+Is she not apt ?
+
+Our tongue is rough , coz , and my condition is not smooth ; so that , having neither the voice nor the heart of flattery about me , I cannot so conjure up the spirit of love in her , that he will appear in his true likeness .
+
+Pardon the frankness of my mirth if I answer you for that . If you would conjure in her , you must make a circle ; if conjure up Love in her in his true likeness , he must appear naked and blind . Can you blame her then , being a maid yet rosed over with the virgin crimson of modesty , if she deny the appearance of a naked blind boy in her naked seeing self ? It were , my lord , a hard condition for a maid to consign to .
+
+Yet they do wink and yield , as love is blind and enforces .
+
+They are then excused , my lord , when they see not what they do .
+
+Then , good my lord , teach your cousin to consent winking .
+
+I will wink on her to consent , my lord , if you will teach her to know my meaning : for maids , well summered and warm kept , are like flies at Bartholomew-tide , blind , though they have their eyes ; and then they will endure handling , which before would not abide looking on .
+
+This moral ties me over to time and a hot summer ; and so I shall catch the fly , your cousin , in the latter end , and she must be blind too .
+
+As love is , my lord , before it loves .
+
+It is so : and you may , some of you , thank love for my blindness , who cannot see many a fair French city for one fair French maid that stands in my way .
+
+Yes , my lord , you see them perspectively , the cities turned into a maid ; for they are all girdled with maiden walls that war hath never entered .
+
+Shall Kate be my wife ?
+
+So please you .
+
+I am content ; so the maiden cities you talk of may wait on her : so the maid that stood in the way for my wish shall show me the way to my will .
+
+We have consented to all terms of reason .
+
+Is't so , my lords of England ?
+
+The king hath granted every article :
+His daughter first , and then in sequel all ,
+According to their firm proposed natures .
+
+Only he hath not yet subscribed this :
+Where your majesty demands , that the King of France , having any occasion to write for matter of grant , shall name your highness in this form , and with this addition , in French , Notre tr s cher filz Henry roy d'Angleterre , H retier de France ; and thus in Latin , Pr clarissimus filius noster Henricus , Rex Angli , et H res Franci .
+
+Nor this I have not , brother , so denied ,
+But your request shall make me let it pass .
+
+I pray you then , in love and dear alliance ,
+Let that one article rank with the rest ;
+And thereupon give me your daughter .
+
+Take her , fair son ; and from her blood raise up
+Issue to me ; that the contending kingdoms
+Of France and England , whose very shores look pale
+With envy of each other's happiness ,
+May cease their hatred , and this dear conjunction
+Plant neighbourhood and Christian-like accord
+In their sweet bosoms , that never war advance
+His bleeding sword 'twixt England and fair France .
+
+Amen !
+
+Now , welcome , Kate : and bear me witness all ,
+That here I kiss her as my sovereign queen .
+
+
+God , the best maker of all marriages ,
+Combine your hearts in one , your realms in one !
+As man and wife , being two , are one in love ,
+So be there 'twixt your kingdoms such a spousal
+That never may ill office , or fell jealousy ,
+Which troubles oft the bed of blessed marriage ,
+Thrust in between the paction of these kingdoms ,
+To make divorce of their incorporate league ;
+That English may as French , French Englishmen ,
+Receive each other ! God speak this Amen !
+
+Amen !
+
+Prepare we for our marriage : on which day ,
+My Lord of Burgundy , we'll take your oath ,
+And all the peers' , for surety of our leagues .
+Then shall I swear to Kate , and you to me ;
+And may our oaths well kept and prosperous be !
+
+Thus far , with rough and all-unable pen ,
+Our bending author hath pursu'd the story ;
+In little room confining mighty men ,
+Mangling by starts the full course of their glory .
+Small time , but in that small most greatly liv'd
+This star of England : Fortune made his sword ,
+By which the world's best garden he achiev'd ,
+And of it left his son imperial lord .
+Henry the Sixth , in infant bands crown'd King
+Of France and England , did this king succeed ;
+Whose state so many had the managing ,
+That they lost France and made his England bleed :
+Which oft our stage hath shown ; and , for their sake ,
+In your fair minds let this acceptance take .
+
+THE SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV
+
+
+Open your ears ; for which of you will stop
+The vent of hearing when loud Rumour speaks ?
+I , from the orient to the drooping west ,
+Making the wind my post-horse , still unfold
+The acts commenced on this ball of earth :
+Upon my tongues continual slanders ride ,
+The which in every language I pronounce ,
+Stuffing the ears of men with false reports .
+I speak of peace , while covert enmity
+Under the smile of safety wounds the world :
+And who but Rumour , who but only I ,
+Make fearful musters and prepar'd defence ,
+Whilst the big year , swoln with some other grief ,
+Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war ,
+And no such matter ? Rumour is a pipe
+Blown by surmises , jealousies , conjectures ,
+And of so easy and so plain a stop
+That the blunt monster with uncounted heads ,
+The still-discordant wavering multitude ,
+Can play upon it . But what need I thus
+My well-known body to anatomize
+Among my household ? Why is Rumour here ?
+I run before King Harry's victory ;
+Who in a bloody field by Shrewsbury
+Hath beaten down young Hotspur and his troops ,
+Quenching the flame of bold rebellion
+Even with the rebels' blood . But what mean I
+To speak so true at first ? my office is
+To noise abroad that Harry Monmouth fell
+Under the wrath of noble Hotspur's sword ,
+And that the king before the Douglas' rage
+Stoop'd his anointed head as low as death .
+This have I rumour'd through the peasant towns
+Between the royal field of Shrewsbury
+And this worm-eaten hold of ragged stone ,
+Where Hotspur's father , old Northumberland ,
+Lies crafty-sick . The posts come tiring on ,
+And not a man of them brings other news
+Than they have learn'd of me : from Rumour's tongues
+They bring smooth comforts false , worse than true wrongs .
+
+
+Who keeps the gate here ? ho !
+
+Where is the earl ?
+
+What shall I say you are ?
+
+Tell thou the earl
+That the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here .
+
+His Lordship is walk'd forth into the orchard :
+Please it your honour knock but at the gate ,
+And he himself will answer .
+
+
+Here comes the earl .
+
+
+What news , Lord Bardolph ? every minute now
+Should be the father of some stratagem .
+The times are wild ; contention , like a horse
+Full of high feeding , madly hath broke loose
+And bears down all before him .
+
+Noble earl ,
+I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury .
+
+Good , an God will !
+
+As good as heart can wish .
+The king is almost wounded to the death ;
+And , in the fortune of my lord your son ,
+Prince Harry slain outright ; and both the Blunts
+Kill'd by the hand of Douglas ; young Prince John
+And Westmoreland and Stafford fled the field .
+And Harry Monmouth's brawn , the hulk Sir John ,
+Is prisoner to your son : O ! such a day ,
+So fought , so follow'd , and so fairly won ,
+Came not till now to dignify the times
+Since C sar's fortunes .
+
+How is this deriv'd ?
+Saw you the field ? came you from Shrewsbury ?
+
+I spake with one , my lord , that came from thence ;
+A gentleman well bred and of good name ,
+That freely render'd me these news for true .
+
+Here comes my servant Travers , whom I sent
+On Tuesday last to listen after news .
+
+My lord , I over-rode him on the way ;
+And he is furnish'd with no certainties
+More than he haply may retail from me .
+
+
+Now , Travers , what good tidings come with you ?
+
+My lord , Sir John Umfrevile turn'd me back
+With joyful tidings ; and , being better hors'd ,
+Out-rode me . After him came spurring hard
+A gentleman , almost forspent with speed ,
+That stopp'd by me to breathe his bloodied horse .
+He ask'd the way to Chester ; and of him
+I did demand what news from Shrewsbury .
+He told me that rebellion had bad luck ,
+And that young Harry Percy's spur was cold .
+With that he gave his able horse the head ,
+And , bending forward struck his armed heels
+Against the panting sides of his poor jade
+Up to the rowel-head , and , starting so ,
+He seem'd in running to devour the way ,
+Staying no longer question .
+
+Ha ! Again :
+Said he young Harry Percy's spur was cold ?
+Of Hotspur , Coldspur ? that rebellion
+Had met ill luck ?
+
+My lord , I'll tell you what :
+If my young lord your son have not the day ,
+Upon mine honour , for a silken point
+I'll give my barony : never talk of it .
+
+Why should the gentleman that rode by Travers
+Give then such instances of loss ?
+
+Who , he ?
+He was some hilding fellow that had stolen
+The horse he rode on , and , upon my life ,
+Spoke at a venture . Look , here comes more news .
+
+
+Yea , this man's brow , like to a title-leaf ,
+Foretells the nature of a tragic volume :
+So looks the strond , whereon the imperious flood
+Hath left a witness'd usurpation .
+Say , Morton , didst thou come from Shrewsbury ?
+
+I ran from Shrewsbury , my noble lord ;
+Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask
+To fright our party .
+
+How doth my son and brother ?
+Thou tremblest , and the whiteness in thy cheek
+Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand .
+Even such a man , so faint , so spiritless ,
+So dull , so dead in look , so woe-begone ,
+Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night ,
+And would have told him half his Troy was burn'd ;
+But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue ,
+And I my Percy's death ere thou report'st it .
+This thou wouldst say , 'Your son did thus and thus ;
+Your brother thus ; so fought the noble Douglas ;'
+Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds :
+But in the end , to stop mine ear indeed ,
+Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise ,
+Ending with 'Brother , son , and all are dead .'
+
+Douglas is living , and your brother , yet ;
+But , for my lord your son ,
+
+Why , he is dead .
+See , what a ready tongue suspicion hath !
+He that but fears the thing he would not know
+Hath by instinct knowledge from others' eyes
+That what he fear'd is chanced . Yet speak , Morton :
+Tell thou thy earl his divination lies ,
+And I will take it as a sweet disgrace
+And make thee rich for doing me such wrong .
+
+You are too great to be by me gainsaid ;
+Your spirit is too true , your fears too certain .
+
+Yet , for all this , say not that Percy's dead .
+I see a strange confession in thine eye :
+Thou shak'st thy head , and hold'st it fear or sin
+To speak a truth . If he be slain , say so ;
+The tongue offends not that reports his death :
+And he doth sin that doth belie the dead ,
+Not he which says the dead is not alive .
+Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news
+Hath but a losing office , and his tongue
+Sounds ever after as a sullen bell ,
+Remember'd knolling a departing friend .
+
+I cannot think , my lord , your son is dead .
+
+I am sorry I should force you to believe
+That which I would to God I had not seen ;
+But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state ,
+Rendering faint quittance , wearied and outbreath'd ,
+To Harry Monmouth ; whose swift wrath beat down
+The never-daunted Percy to the earth ,
+From whence with life he never more sprung up .
+In few , his death ,whose spirit lent a fire
+Even to the dullest peasant in his camp ,
+Being bruited once , took fire and heat away
+From the best-temper'd courage in his troops ;
+For from his metal was his party steel'd ;
+Which once in him abated , all the rest
+Turn'd on themselves , like dull and heavy lead :
+And as the thing that's heavy in itself ,
+Upon enforcement flies with greatest speed ,
+So did our men , heavy in Hotspur's loss ,
+Lend to this weight such lightness with their fear
+That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim
+Than did our soldiers , aiming at their safety ,
+Fly from the field . Then was that noble Worcester
+Too soon ta'en prisoner ; and that furious Scot ,
+The bloody Douglas , whose well-labouring sword
+Had three times slain the appearance of the king ,
+'Gan vail his stomach , and did grace the shame
+Of those that turn'd their backs ; and in his flight ,
+Stumbling in fear , was took . The sum of all
+Is , that the king hath won , and hath sent out
+A speedy power to encounter you , my lord ,
+Under the conduct of young Lancaster
+And Westmoreland . This is the news at full .
+
+For this I shall have time enough to mourn .
+In poison there is physic ; and these news ,
+Having been well , that would have made me sick ,
+Being sick , have in some measure made me well :
+And as the wretch , whose fever-weaken'd joints ,
+Like strengthless hinges , buckle under life ,
+Impatient of his fit , breaks like a fire
+Out of his keeper's arms , even so my limbs ,
+Weaken'd with grief , being now enrag'd with grief ,
+Are thrice themselves . Hence , therefore , thou nice crutch !
+A scaly gauntlet now , with joints of steel
+Must glove this hand : and hence , thou sickly quoif !
+Thou art a guard too wanton for the head
+Which princes , flesh'd with conquest , aim to hit .
+Now bind my brows with iron ; and approach
+The ragged'st hour that time and spite dare bring
+To frown upon the enrag'd Northumberland !
+Let heaven kiss earth ! now let not nature's hand
+Keep the wild flood confin'd ! let order die !
+And let this world no longer be a stage
+To feed contention in a lingering act ;
+But let one spirit of the first-born Cain
+Reign in all bosoms , that , each heart being set
+On bloody courses , the rude scene may end ,
+And darkness be the burier of the dead !
+
+This strained passion doth you wrong , my lord .
+
+Sweet earl , divorce not wisdom from your honour .
+
+The lives of all your loving complices
+Lean on your health ; the which , if you give o'er
+To stormy passion must perforce decay .
+You cast the event of war , my noble lord ,
+And summ'd the account of chance , before you said ,
+'Let us make head .' It was your presurmise
+That in the dole of blows your son might drop :
+You knew he walk'd o'er perils , on an edge ,
+More likely to fall in than to get o'er ;
+You were advis'd his flesh was capable
+Of wounds and scars , and that his forward spirit
+Would lift him where most trade of danger rang'd :
+Yet did you say , 'Go forth ;' and none of this ,
+Though strongly apprehended , could restrain
+The stiff-borne action : what hath then befallen ,
+Or what hath this bold enterprise brought forth ,
+More than that being which was like to be ?
+
+We all that are engaged to this loss
+Knew that we ventur'd on such dangerous seas
+That if we wrought out life 'twas ten to one ;
+And yet we ventur'd , for the gain propos'd
+Chok'd the respect of likely peril fear'd ;
+And since we are o'erset , venture again .
+Come , we will all put forth , body and goods .
+
+'Tis more than time : and , my most noble lord ,
+I hear for certain , and do speak the truth ,
+The gentle Archbishop of York is up ,
+With well-appointed powers : he is a man
+Who with a double surety binds his followers .
+My lord your son had only but the corpse' ,
+But shadows and the shows of men to fight ;
+For that same word , rebellion , did divide
+The action of their bodies from their souls ;
+And they did fight with queasiness , constrain'd ,
+As men drink potions , that their weapons only
+Seem'd on our side : but , for their spirits and souls ,
+This word , rebellion , it had froze them up ,
+As fish are in a pond . But now the bishop
+Turns insurrection to religion :
+Suppos'd sincere and holy in his thoughts ,
+He's follow'd both with body and with mind ,
+And doth enlarge his rising with the blood
+Of fair King Richard , scrap'd from Pomfret stones ;
+Derives from heaven his quarrel and his cause ;
+Tells them he doth bestride a bleeding land ,
+Gasping for life under great Bolingbroke ;
+And more and less do flock to follow him .
+
+I knew of this before ; but , to speak truth ,
+This present grief had wip'd it from my mind .
+Go in with me ; and counsel every man
+The aptest way for safety and revenge :
+Get posts and letters , and make friends with speed :
+Never so few , and never yet more need .
+
+
+Sirrah , you giant , what says the doctor to my water ?
+
+He said , sir , the water itself was a good healthy water ; but , for the party that owed it , he might have more diseases than he knew for .
+
+Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me : the brain of this foolish-compounded clay , man , is not able to invent anything that tends to laughter , more than I invent or is invented on me : I am not only witty in myself , but the cause that wit is in other men . I do here walk before thee like a sow that hath overwhelmed all her litter but one . If the prince put thee into my service for any other reason than to set me off , why then I have no judgment . Thou whoreson mandrake , thou art fitter to be worn in my cap than to wait at my heels . I was never manned with an agate till now ; but I will set you neither in gold nor silver , but in vile apparel , and send you back again to your master , for a jewel ; the juvenal , the prince your master , whose chin is not yet fledged . I will sooner have a beard grow in the palm of my hand than he shall get one on his cheek ; and yet he will not stick to say , his face is a face-royal : God may finish it when he will , it is not a hair amiss yet : he may keep it still as a face-royal , for a barber shall never earn sixpence out of it ; and yet he will be crowing as if he had writ man ever since his father was a bachelor . He may keep his own grace , but he is almost out of mine , I can assure him . What said Master Dombledon about the satin for my short cloak and my slops ?
+
+He said , sir , you should procure him better assurance than Bardolph ; he would not take his bond and yours : he liked not the security .
+
+Let him be damned like the glutton ! may his tongue be hotter ! A whoreson Achitophel ! a rascally yea-forsooth knave ! to bear a gentleman in hand , and then stand upon security . The whoreson smooth-pates do now wear nothing but high shoes , and bunches of keys at their girdles ; and if a man is thorough with them in honest taking up , then they must stand upon security . I had as lief they would put ratsbane in my mouth as offer to stop it with security . I looked a' should have sent me two and twenty yards of satin , as I am a true knight , and he sends me security . Well , he may sleep in security ; for he hath the horn of abundance , and the lightness of his wife shines through it : and yet cannot he see , though he have his own lanthorn to light him . Where's Bardolph ?
+
+He's gone into Smithfield to buy your worship a horse .
+
+I bought him in Paul's , and he'll buy me a horse in Smithfield : an I could get me but a wife in the stews , I were manned , horsed , and wived .
+
+
+Sir , here comes the nobleman that committed the prince for striking him about Bardolph .
+
+Wait close ; I will not see him .
+
+What's he that goes there ?
+
+Falstaff , an't please your lordship .
+
+He that was in question for the robbery ?
+
+He , my lord ; but he hath since done good service at Shrewsbury , and , as I hear , is now going with some charge to the Lord John of Lancaster .
+
+What , to York ? Call him back again .
+
+Sir John Falstaff !
+
+Boy , tell him I am deaf .
+
+You must speak louder , my master is deaf .
+
+I am sure he is , to the hearing of anything good . Go , pluck him by the elbow ; I must speak with him .
+
+Sir John !
+
+What ! a young knave , and beg ! Is there not wars ? is there not employment ? doth not the king lack subjects ? do not the rebels want soldiers ? Though it be a shame to be on any side but one , it is worse shame to beg than to be on the worst side , were it worse than the name of rebellion can tell how to make it .
+
+You mistake me , sir .
+
+Why , sir , did I say you were an honest man ? setting my knighthood and my soldiership aside , I had lied in my throat if I had said so .
+
+I pray you , sir , then set your knighthood and your soldiership aside , and give me leave to tell you you lie in your throat if you say I am any other than an honest man .
+
+I give thee leave to tell me so ! I lay aside that which grows to me ! If thou gett'st any leave of me , hang me : if thou takest leave , thou wert better be hanged . You hunt-counter : hence ! avaunt !
+
+Sir , my lord would speak with you .
+
+Sir John Falstaff , a word with you .
+
+My good lord ! God give your lordship good time of day . I am glad to see your lordship abroad ; I heard say your lordship was sick : I hope your lordship goes abroad by advice . Your lordship , though not clean past your youth , hath yet some smack of age in you , some relish of the saltness of time ; and I most humbly beseech your lordship to have a reverend care of your health .
+
+Sir John , I sent for you before your expedition to Shrewsbury .
+
+An't please your lordship , I hear his majesty is returned with some discomfort from Wales .
+
+I talk not of his majesty . You would not come when I sent for you .
+
+And I hear , moreover , his highness is fallen into this same whoreson apoplexy .
+
+Well , heaven mend him ! I pray you , let me speak with you .
+
+This apoplexy is , as I take it , a kind of lethargy , an't please your lordship ; a kind of sleeping in the blood , a whoreson tingling .
+
+What tell you me of it ? be it as it is .
+
+It hath its original from much grief , from study and perturbation of the brain . I have read the cause of his effects in Galen : it is a kind of deafness .
+
+I think you are fallen into the disease , for you hear not what I say to you .
+
+Very well , my lord , very well : rather , an't please you , it is the disease of not listening , the malady of not marking , that I am troubled withal .
+
+To punish you by the heels would amend the attention of your ears ; and I care not if I do become your physician .
+
+I am as poor as Job , my lord , but not so patient : your lordship may minister the potion of imprisonment to me in respect of poverty ; but how I should be your patient to follow your prescriptions , the wise may make some dram of a scruple , or indeed a scruple itself .
+
+I sent for you , when there were matters against you for your life , to come speak with me .
+
+As I was then advised by my learned counsel in the laws of this land-service , I did not come .
+
+Well , the truth is , Sir John , you live in great infamy .
+
+He that buckles him in my belt cannot live in less .
+
+Your means are very slender , and your waste is great .
+
+I would it were otherwise : I would my means were greater and my waist slenderer .
+
+You have misled the youthful prince .
+
+The young prince hath misled me : I am the fellow with the great belly , and he my dog .
+
+Well , I am loath to gall a new-healed wound : your day's service at Shrewsbury hath a little gilded over your night's exploit on Gadshill : you may thank the unquiet time for your quiet o'er-posting that action .
+
+My lord !
+
+But since all is well , keep it so : wake not a sleeping wolf .
+
+To wake a wolf is as bad as to smell a fox .
+
+What ! you are as a candle , the better part burnt out .
+
+A wassail candle , my lord ; all tallow : if I did say of wax , my growth would approve the truth .
+
+There is not a white hair on your face but should have his effect of gravity .
+
+His effect of gravy , gravy , gravy .
+
+You follow the young prince up and down , like his ill angel .
+
+Not so , my lord ; your ill angel is light , but I hope he that looks upon me will take me without weighing : and yet , in some respects , I grant , I cannot go , I cannot tell . Virtue is of so little regard in these costermonger times that true valour is turned bear-herd : pregnancy is made a tapster , and hath his quick wit wasted in giving reckonings : all the other gifts appertinent to man , as the malice of this age shapes them , are not worth a gooseberry . You that are old consider not the capacities of us that are young ; you measure the heat of our livers with the bitterness of your galls ; and we that are in the vaward of our youth , I must confess , are wags too .
+
+Do you set down your name in the scroll of youth , that are written down old with all the characters of age ? Have you not a moist eye , a dry hand , a yellow cheek , a white beard , a decreasing leg , an increasing belly ? Is not your voice broken , your wind short , your chin double , your wit single , and every part about you blasted with antiquity , and will you yet call yourself young ? Fie , fie , fie , Sir John !
+
+My lord , I was born about three of the clock in the afternoon , with a white head , and something a round belly . For my voice , I have lost it with hollaing , and singing of anthems . To approve my youth further , I will not : the truth is , I am only old in judgment and understanding ; and he that will caper with me for a thousand marks , let him lend me the money , and have at him ! For the box o' the ear that the prince gave you , he gave it like a rude prince , and you took it like a sensible lord . I have checked him for it , and the young lion repents ; marry , not in ashes and sackcloth , but in new silk and old sack .
+
+Well , God send the prince a better companion !
+
+God send the companion a better prince ! I cannot rid my hands of him .
+
+Well , the king hath severed you and Prince Harry . I hear you are going with Lord John of Lancaster against the archbishop and the Earl of Northumberland .
+
+Yea ; I thank your pretty sweet wit for it . But look you pray , all you that kiss my lady Peace at home , that our armies join not in a hot day ; for , by the Lord , I take but two shirts out with me , and I mean not to sweat extraordinarily : if it be a hot day , and I brandish anything but my bottle , I would I might never spit white again . There is not a dangerous action can peep out his head but I am thrust upon it . Well , I cannot last ever . But it was always yet the trick of our English nation , if they have a good thing , to make it too common . If you will needs say I am an old man , you should give me rest . I would to God my name were not so terrible to the enemy as it is : I were better to be eaten to death with rust than to be scoured to nothing with perpetual motion .
+
+Well , be honest , be honest ; and God bless your expedition .
+
+Will your lordship lend me a thousand pound to furnish me forth ?
+
+Not a penny ; not a penny ; you are too impatient to bear crosses . Fare you well : commend me to my cousin Westmoreland .
+
+
+If I do , fillip me with a three-man beetle . A man can no more separate age and covetousness than he can part young limbs and lechery ; but the gout galls the one , and the pox pinches the other ; and so both the degrees prevent my curses . Boy !
+
+Sir !
+
+What money is in my purse ?
+
+Seven groats and twopence .
+
+I can get no remedy against this consumption of the purse : borrowing only lingers and lingers it out , but the disease is incurable . Go bear this letter to my Lord of Lancaster ; this to the prince ; this to the Earl of Westmoreland ; and this to old Mistress Ursula , whom I have weekly sworn to marry since I perceived the first white hair on my chin . About it : you know where to find me .
+
+A pox of this gout ! or , a gout of this pox ! for the one or the other plays the rogue with my great toe . 'Tis no matter if I do halt ; I have the wars for my colour , and my pension shall seem the more reasonable . A good wit will make use of anything ; I will turn diseases to commodity .
+
+
+Thus have you heard our cause and known our means ;
+And , my most noble friends , I pray you all ,
+Speak plainly your opinions of our hopes :
+And first , Lord Marshal , what say you to it ?
+
+I well allow the occasion of our arms ;
+But gladly would be better satisfied
+How in our means we should advance ourselves
+To look with forehead bold and big enough
+Upon the power and puissance of the king .
+
+Our present musters grow upon the file
+To five-and-twenty thousand men of choice ;
+And our supplies live largely in the hope
+Of great Northumberland , whose bosom burns
+With an incensed fire of injuries .
+
+The question , then , Lord Hastings , standeth thus :
+Whether our present five-and-twenty thousand
+May hold up head without Northumberland .
+
+With him , we may .
+
+Ay , marry , there's the point :
+But if without him we be thought too feeble ,
+My judgment is , we should not step too far
+Till we had his assistance by the hand ;
+For in a theme so bloody-fao'd as this ,
+Conjecture , expectation , and surmise
+Of aids incertain should not be admitted .
+
+'Tis very true , Lord Bardolph ; for , indeed
+It was young Hotspur's case at Shrewsbury .
+
+It was , my lord ; who lin'd himself with hope ,
+Eating the air on promise of supply ,
+Flattering himself with project of a power
+Much smaller than the smallest of his thoughts ;
+And so , with great imagination
+Proper to madmen , led his powers to death ,
+And winking leap'd into destruction .
+
+But , by your leave , it never yet did hurt
+To lay down likelihoods and forms of hope .
+
+Yes , if this present quality of war ,
+Indeed the instant action ,a cause on foot ,
+Lives so in hope , as in an early spring
+We see the appearing buds ; which , to prove fruit ,
+Hope gives not so much warrant as despair
+That frosts will bite them . When we mean to build ,
+We first survey the plot , then draw the model ;
+And when we see the figure of the house ,
+Then must we rate the cost of the erection ;
+Which if we find outweighs ability ,
+What do we then but draw anew the model
+In fewer offices , or at last desist
+To build at all ? Much more , in this great work ,
+Which is almost to pluck a kingdom down
+And set another up ,should we survey
+The plot of situation and the model ,
+Consent upon a sure foundation ,
+Question surveyors , know our own estate ,
+How able such a work to undergo ,
+To weigh against his opposite ; or else ,
+We fortify in paper , and in figures ,
+Using the names of men instead of men :
+Like one that draws the model of a house
+Beyond his power to build it ; who , half through ,
+Gives o'er and leaves his part-created cost
+A naked-subject to the weeping clouds ,
+And waste for churlish winter's tyranny .
+
+Grant that our hopes , yet likely of fair birth ,
+Should be still-born , and that we now possess'd
+The utmost man of expectation ;
+I think we are a body strong enough ,
+Even as we are , to equal with the king .
+
+What ! is the king but five-and-twenty thousand ?
+
+To us no more ; nay , not so much , Lord Bardolph .
+For his divisions , as the times do brawl ,
+Are in three heads : one power against the French ,
+And one against Glendower ; perforce , a third
+Must take up us : so is the unfirm king
+In three divided , and his coffers sound
+With hollow poverty and emptiness .
+
+That he should draw his several strengths together
+And come against us in full puissance ,
+Need not be dreaded .
+
+If he should do so ,
+He leaves his back unarm'd , the French and Welsh
+Baying him at the heels : never fear that .
+
+Who is it like should lead his forces hither ?
+
+The Duke of Lancaster and Westmoreland ;
+Against the Welsh , himself and Harry Monmouth :
+But who is substituted 'gainst the French
+I have no certain notice .
+
+Let us on
+And publish the occasion of our arms .
+The commonwealth is sick of their own choice ;
+Their over-greedy love hath surfeited .
+A habitation giddy and unsure
+Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart .
+O thou fond many ! with what loud applause
+Didst thou beat heaven with blessing Bolingbroke
+Before he was what thou wouldst have him be :
+And being now trimm'd in thine own desires ,
+Thou , beastly feeder , art so full of him
+That thou provok'st thyself to cast him up .
+So , so , thou common dog , didst thou disgorge
+Thy glutton bosom of the royal Richard ,
+And now thou wouldst eat thy dead vomit up ,
+And howl'st to find it . What trust is in these times ?
+They that , when Richard liv'd , would have him die ,
+Are now become enamour'd on his grave :
+Thou , that threw'st dust upon his goodly head ,
+When through proud London he came sighing on
+After the admired heels of Bolingbroke ,
+Cry'st now , 'O earth ! yield us that king again ,
+And take thou this !' O , thoughts of men accurst !
+Past and to come seem best ; things present worst .
+
+Shall we go draw our numbers and set on ?
+
+We are time's subjects , and time bids be gone .
+
+Master Fang , have you entered the exion ?
+
+It is entered .
+
+Where's your yeoman ? Is it a lusty yeoman ? will a' stand to't ?
+
+Sirrah , where's Snare ?
+
+O Lord , ay ! good Master Snare .
+
+Here , here .
+
+Snare , we must arrest Sir John Falstaff .
+
+Yea , good Master Snare ; I have entered him and all .
+
+It may chance cost some of us our lives , for he will stab .
+
+Alas the day ! take heed of him : he stabbed me in mine own house , and that most beastly . In good faith , he cares not what mischief he doth if his weapon be out : he will foin like any devil , he will spare neither man , woman , nor child .
+
+If I can close with him I care not for his thrust .
+
+No , nor I neither : I'll be at your elbow .
+
+An I but fist him once ; an a' come but within my vice ,
+
+I am undone by his going ; I warrant you , he's an infinitive thing upon my score . Good Master Fang , hold him sure : good Master Snare , let him not 'scape . A' comes continuantly to Pie-corner saving your manhoods to buy a saddle , and he's indited to dinner to the Lubber's Head in Lumbert-Street , to Master Smooth's the silkman : I pray ye , since my exion is entered , and my case so openly known to the world , let him be brought in to his answer . A hundred mark is a long one for a poor lone woman to bear ; and I have borne , and borne , and borne ; and have been fubbed off , and fubbed off , and fubbed off , from this day to that day , that it is a shame to be thought on . There is no honesty in such dealing ; unless a woman should be made an ass , and a beast , to bear every knave's wrong . Yonder he comes ; and that arrant malmseynose knave , Bardolph , with him . Do your offices , do your offices , Master Fang and Master Snare ; do me , do me , do me your offices .
+
+
+How now ! whose mare's dead ? what's the matter ?
+
+Sir John , I arrest you at the suit of Mistress Quickly .
+
+Away , varlets ! Draw , Bardolph : cut me off the villain's head ; throw the quean in the channel .
+
+Throw me in the channel ! I'll throw thee in the channel . Wilt thou ? wilt thou ? thou bastardly rogue ! Murder , murder ! Ah , thou honey-suckle villain ! wilt thou kill God's officers and the king's ? Ah , thou honey-seed rogue ! thou art a honey-seed , a man-queller , and a woman-queller .
+
+Keep them off , Bardolph .
+
+A rescue ! a rescue !
+
+Good people , bring a rescue or two ! Thou wo't , wo't thou ? thou wo't , wo't ta ? do , do , thou rogue ! do , thou hemp-seed !
+
+Away , you scullion ! you rampallian ! you fustilarian ! I'll tickle your catastrophe .
+
+
+What is the matter ? keep the peace here , ho !
+
+Good my lord , be good to me ! I beseech you , stand to me !
+
+How now , Sir John ! what ! are you brawling here ?
+Doth this become your place , your time and business ?
+You should have been well on your way to York .
+Stand from him , fellow : wherefore hang'st upon him ?
+
+O , my most worshipful lord , an't please your grace , I am a poor widow of Eastcheap , and he is arrested at my suit .
+
+For what sum ?
+
+It is more than for some , my lord ; it is for all , all I have . He hath eaten me out of house and home ; he hath put all my substance into that fat belly of his : but I will have some of it out again , or I will ride thee o' nights like the mare .
+
+I think I am as like to ride the mare if I have any vantage of ground to get up .
+
+How comes this , Sir John ? Fie ! what man of good temper would endure this tempest of exclamation ? Are you not ashamed to enforce a poor widow to so rough a course to come by her own ?
+
+What is the gross sum that I owe thee ?
+
+Marry , if thou wert an honest man , thyself and the money too . Thou didst swear to me upon a parcel-gilt goblet , sitting in my Dolphin-chamber , at the round table , by a seacoal fire , upon Wednesday in Wheeson week , when the prince broke thy head for liking his father to a singing-man of Windsor , thou didst swear to me then , as I was washing thy wound , to marry me and make me my lady thy wife . Canst thou deny it ? Did not goodwife Keech , the butcher's wife , come in then and call me gossip Quickly ? coming in to borrow a mess of vinegar ; telling us she had a good dish of prawns ; whereby thou didst desire to eat some , whereby I told thee they were ill for a green wound ? And didst thou not , when she was gone down-stairs , desire me to be no more so familiarity with such poor people ; saying that ere long they should call me madam ? And didst thou not kiss me and bid me fetch thee thirty shillings ? I put thee now to thy book-oath : deny it if thou canst .
+
+My lord , this is a poor mad soul ; and she says up and down the town that her eldest son is like you . She hath been in good case , and the truth is , poverty hath distracted her . But for these foolish officers , I beseech you I may have redress against them .
+
+Sir John , Sir John , I am well acquainted with your manner of wrenching the true cause the false way . It is not a confident brow , nor the throng of words that come with such more than impudent sauciness from you , can thrust me from a level consideration ; you have , as it appears to me , practised upon the easy-yielding spirit of this woman , and made her serve your uses both in purse and in person .
+
+Yea , in troth , my lord .
+
+Prithee , peace . Pay her the debt you owe her , and unpay the villany you have done her : the one you may do with sterling money , and the other with current repentance .
+
+My lord , I will not undergo this sneap without reply . You call honourable boldness impudent sauciness : if a man will make curtsy , and say nothing , he is virtuous . No , my lord , my humble duty remembered , I will not be your suitor : I say to you , I do desire deliverance from these officers , being upon hasty employment in the king's affairs .
+
+You speak as having power to do wrong : but answer in the effect of your reputation , and satisfy the poor woman .
+
+Come hither , hostess .
+
+Now , Master Gower ! what news ?
+
+The king , my lord , and Harry Prince of Wales
+Are near at hand : the rest the paper tells .
+
+
+As I am a gentleman .
+
+Nay , you said so before .
+
+As I am a gentleman . Come , no more words of it .
+
+By this heavenly ground I tread on , I must be fain to pawn both my plate and the tapestry of my dining-chambers .
+
+Glasses , glasses , is the only drinking : and for thy walls , a pretty slight drollery , or the story of the Prodigal , or the German hunting in water-work , is worth a thousand of these bed-hangings and these fly-bitten tapestries . Let it be ten pound if thou canst . Come , an it were not for thy humours , there is not a better wench in England . Go , wash thy face , and draw thy action . Come , thou must not be in this humour with me ; dost not know me ? Come , come , I know thou wast set on to this .
+
+Prithee , Sir John , let it be but twenty nobles : i' faith , I am loath to pawn my plate , so God save me , la !
+
+Let it alone ; I'll make other shift : you'll be a fool still .
+
+Well , you shall have it , though I pawn my gown . I hope you'll come to supper . You'll pay me all together ?
+
+Will I live ?
+
+Go , with her , with her ; hook on , hook on .
+
+Will you have Doll Tearsheet meet you at supper ?
+
+No more words ; let's have her .
+
+
+I have heard better news .
+
+What's the news , my good lord ?
+
+Where lay the king last night ?
+
+At Basingstoke , my lord .
+
+I hope , my lord , all's well : what is the news , my lord ?
+
+Come all his forces back ?
+
+No ; fifteen hundred foot , five hundred horse ,
+Are march'd up to my Lord of Lancaster ,
+Against Northumberland and the archbishop .
+
+Comes the king back from Wales , my noble lord ?
+
+You shall have letters of me presently .
+Come , go along with me , good Master Gower .
+
+My lord !
+
+What's the matter ?
+
+Master Gower , shall I entreat you with me to dinner ?
+
+I must wait upon my good lord here ;
+I thank you , good Sir John .
+
+Sir John , you loiter here too long , being you are to take soldiers up in counties as you go .
+
+Will you sup with me , Master Gower ?
+
+What foolish master taught you these manners , Sir John ?
+
+Master Gower , if they become me not , he was a fool that taught them me . This is the right fencing grace , my lord ; tap for tap , and so part fair .
+
+Now the Lord lighten thee ! thou art a great fool .
+
+
+Before God , I am exceeding weary .
+
+Is it come to that ? I had thought weariness durst not have attached one of so high blood .
+
+Faith , it does me , though it discolours the complexion of my greatness to acknowledge it . Doth it not show vilely in me to desire small beer ?
+
+Why , a prince should not be so loosely studied as to remember so weak a composition .
+
+Belike then my appetite was not princely got ; for , by my troth , I do now remember the poor creature , small beer . But , indeed , these humble considerations make me out of love with my greatness . What a disgrace is it to me to remember thy name , or to know thy face to-morrow ! or to take note how many pair of silk stockings thou hast ; viz . these , and those that were thy peach-coloured ones ! or to bear the inventory of thy shirts ; as , one for superfluity , and one other for use ! But that the tennis-court-keeper knows better than I , for it is a low ebb of linen with thee when thou keepest not racket there ; as thou hast not done a great while , because the rest of thy low-countries have made a shift to eat up thy holland : and God knows whether those that bawl out the ruins of thy linen shall inherit his kingdom ; but the midwives say the children are not in the fault ; whereupon the world increases , and kindreds are mightily strengthened .
+
+How ill it follows , after you have laboured so hard , you should talk so idly ! Tell me , how many good young princes would do so , their fathers being so sick as yours at this time is ?
+
+Shall I tell thee one thing , Poins ?
+
+Yes , faith , and let it be an excellent good thing .
+
+It shall serve among wits of no higher breeding than thine .
+
+Go to ; I stand the push of your one thing that you will tell .
+
+Marry , I tell thee , it is not meet that I should be sad , now my father is sick : albeit I could tell to thee ,as to one it pleases me , for fault of a better , to call my friend ,I could be sad , and sad indeed too .
+
+Very hardly upon such a subject .
+
+By this hand , thou thinkest me as far in the devil's book as thou and Falstaff for obduracy and persistency : let the end try the man . But I tell thee my heart bleeds inwardly that my father is so sick ; and keeping such vile company as thou art hath in reason taken from me all ostentation of sorrow .
+
+The reason ?
+
+What wouldst thou think of me if I should weep ?
+
+I would think thee a most princely hypocrite .
+
+It would be every man's thought ; and thou art a blessed fellow to think as every man thinks : never a man's thought in the world keeps the road-way better than thine : every man would think me a hypocrite indeed . And what accites your most worshipful thought to think so ?
+
+Why , because you have been so lewd and so much engraffed to Falstaff .
+
+And to thee .
+
+By this light , I am well spoke on ; I can hear it with mine own ears : the worst that they can say of me is that I am a second brother and that I am a proper fellow of my hands ; and these two things I confess I cannot help . By the mass , here comes Bardolph .
+
+
+And the boy that I gave Falstaff : a' had him from me Christian ; and look , if the fat villain have not transformed him ape .
+
+God save your Grace !
+
+And yours , most noble Bardolph .
+
+Come , you virtuous ass , you bashful fool , must you be blushing ? wherefore blush you now ? What a maidenly man-at-arms are you become ! Is it such a matter to get a pottle-pot's maidenhead ?
+
+A' calls me even now , my lord , through a red lattice , and I could discern no part of his face from the window : at last , I spied his eyes , and methought he had made two holes in the ale-wife's new petticoat , and peeped through .
+
+Hath not the boy profited ?
+
+Away , you whoreson upright rabbit , away !
+
+Away , you rascally Althea's dream , away !
+
+Instruct us , boy ; what dream , boy ?
+
+Marry , my lord , Althea dreamed she was delivered of a firebrand ; and therefore I call him her dream .
+
+A crown's worth of good interpretation . There it is , boy .
+
+
+O ! that this good blossom could be kept from cankers . Well , there is sixpence to preserve thee .
+
+An you do not make him be hanged among you , the gallows shall have wrong .
+
+And how doth thy master , Bardolph ?
+
+Well , my lord . He heard of your Grace's coming to town : there's a letter for you .
+
+Delivered with good respect . And how doth the martlemas , your master ?
+
+In bodily health , sir .
+
+Marry , the immortal part needs a physician ; but that moves not him : though that be sick , it dies not .
+
+I do allow this wen to be as familiar with me as my dog ; and he holds his place , for look you how he writes .
+
+'John Falstaff , knight ,' every man must know that , as oft as he has occasion to name himself : even like those that are akin to the king , for they never prick their finger but they say , 'There is some of the king's blood spilt .' 'How comes that ?' says he that takes upon him not to conceive . The answer is as ready as a borrower's cap , 'I am the king's poor cousin , sir .'
+
+Nay , they will be kin to us , or they will fetch it from Japhet . But to the letter :
+
+Sir John Falstaff , knight , to the son of the king nearest his father , Harry Prince of Wales , greeting . Why , this is a certificate .
+
+Peace !
+
+I will imitate the honourable Romans in brevity : sure he means brevity in breath , short-winded .I commend me to thee , I commend thee , and I leave thee . Be not too familiar with Poins ; for he misuses thy favours so much that he swears thou art to marry his sister Nell . Repent at idle times as thou mayest , and so farewell .
+
+My lord , I'll steep this letter in sack and make him eat it .
+
+That's to make him eat twenty of his words . But do you use me thus , Ned ? must I marry your sister ?
+
+God send the wench no worse fortune ! but I never said so .
+
+Well , thus we play the fools with the time , and the spirits of the wise sit in the clouds and mock us . Is your master here in London ?
+
+Yes , my lord .
+
+Where sups he ? doth the old boar feed in the old frank ?
+
+At the old place , my lord , in Eastcheap .
+
+What company ?
+
+Ephesians , my lord , of the old church .
+
+Sup any women with him ?
+
+None , my lord , but old Mistress Quickly and Mistress Doll Tearsheet .
+
+What pagan may that be ?
+
+A proper gentlewoman , sir , and a kinswoman of my master's .
+
+Even such kin as the parish heifers are to the town bull . Shall we steal upon them , Ned , at supper ?
+
+I am your shadow , my lord ; I'll follow you .
+
+Sirrah , you boy , and Bardolph ; no word to your master that I am yet come to town : there's for your silence .
+
+
+I have no tongue , sir .
+
+And for mine , sir , I will govern it .
+
+Fare ye well ; go .
+
+This Doll Tearsheet should be some road .
+
+I warrant you , as common as the way between Saint Alban's and London .
+
+How might we see Falstaff bestow himself to-night in his true colours , and not ourselves be seen ?
+
+Put on two leathern jerkins and aprons , and wait upon him at his table as drawers .
+
+From a god to a bull ! a heavy descension ! it was Jove's case . From a prince to a prentice ! a low transformation ! that shall be mine ; for in every thing the purpose must weigh with the folly . Follow me , Ned .
+
+
+I pray thee , loving wife , and gentle daughter ,
+Give even way unto my rough affairs :
+Put not you on the visage of the times ,
+And be like them to Percy troublesome .
+
+I have given over , I will speak no more :
+Do what you will ; your wisdom be your guide .
+
+Alas ! sweet wife , my honour is at pawn ;
+And , but my going , nothing can redeem it .
+
+O ! yet for God's sake , go not to these wars .
+The time was , father , that you broke your word
+When you were more endear'd to it than now ;
+When your own Percy , when my heart's dear Harry ,
+Threw many a northward look to see his father
+Bring up his powers ; but he did long in vain .
+Who then persuaded you to stay at home ?
+There were two honours lost , yours and your son's :
+For yours , the God of heaven brighten it !
+For his , it stuck upon him as the sun
+In the grey vault of heaven ; and by his light
+Did all the chivalry of England move
+To do brave acts : he was indeed the glass
+Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves :
+He had no legs , that practis'd not his gait ;
+And speaking thick , which nature made his blemish ,
+Became the accents of the valiant ;
+For those that could speak low and tardily ,
+Would turn their own perfection to abuse ,
+To seem like him : so that , in speech , in gait ,
+In diet , in affections of delight ,
+In military rules , humours of blood ,
+He was the mark and glass , copy and book ,
+That fashion'd others . And him , O wondrous him !
+O miracle of men ! him did you leave ,
+Second to none , unseconded by you ,
+To look upon the hideous god of war
+In disadvantage ; to abide a field
+Where nothing but the sound of Hotspur's name
+Did seem defensible : so you left him .
+Never , O ! never , do his ghost the wrong
+To hold your honour more precise and nice
+With others than with him : let them alone .
+The marshal and the archbishop are strong :
+Had my sweet Harry had but half their numbers ,
+To-day might I , hanging on Hotspur's neck ,
+Have talk'd of Monmouth's grave .
+
+Beshrew your heart ,
+Fair daughter ! you do draw my spirits from me
+With new lamenting ancient oversights .
+But I must go and meet with danger there ,
+Or it will seek me in another place ,
+And find me worse provided .
+
+O ! fly to Scotland ,
+Till that the nobles and the armed commons
+Have of their puissance made a little taste .
+
+If they get ground and vantage of the king ,
+Then join you with them , like a rib of steel ,
+To make strength stronger ; but , for all our loves ,
+First let them try themselves . So did your son ;
+He was so suffer'd : so came I a widow ;
+And never shall have length of life enough
+To rain upon remembrance with mine eyes ,
+That it may grow and sprout as high as heaven ,
+For recordation to my noble husband .
+
+Come , come , go in with me . 'Tis with my mind
+As with the tide swell'd up unto its height ,
+That makes a still-stand , running neither way :
+Fain would I go to meet the archbishop ,
+But many thousand reasons hold me back .
+I will resolve for Scotland : there am I ,
+Till time and vantage crave my company .
+
+
+What the devil hast thou brought there ? apple-johns ? thou knowest Sir John cannot endure an apple-john .
+
+Mass , thou sayst true . The prince once set a dish of apple-johns before him , and told him there were five more Sir Johns ; and , putting off his hat , said , 'I will now take my leave of these six dry , round , old withered knights .' It angered him to the heart ; but he hath forgot that .
+
+Why then , cover , and set them down : and see if thou canst find out Sneak's noise ; Mistress Tearsheet would fain hear some music . Dispatch : the room where they supped is too hot ; they'll come in straight .
+
+Sirrah , here will be the prince and Master Poins anon ; and they will put on two of our jerkins and aprons ; and Sir John must not know of it : Bardolph hath brought word .
+
+By the mass , here will be old utis : it will be an excellent stratagem .
+
+I'll see if I can find out Sneak .
+
+I'faith , sweetheart , methinks now you are in an excellent good temperality : your pulsidge beats as extraordinarily as heart would desire ; and your colour , I warrant you , is as red as any rose ; in good truth , la ! But , i' faith , you have drunk too much canaries , and that's a marvellous searching wine , and it perfumes the blood ere one can say , What's this ? How do you now ?
+
+Better than I was : hem !
+
+Why , that's well said ; a good heart's worth gold . Lo ! here comes Sir John .
+
+
+When Arthur first in court Empty the jordan .
+
+And was a worthy king . How now , Mistress Doll !
+
+Sick of a calm : yea , good sooth .
+
+So is all her sect ; an they be once in a calm they are sick .
+
+You muddy rascal , is that all the comfort you give me ?
+
+You make fat rascals , Mistress Doll .
+
+I make them ! gluttony and diseases make them ; I make them not .
+
+If the cook help to make the gluttony , you help to make the diseases , Doll : we catch of you , Doll , we catch of you ; grant that , my poor virtue , grant that .
+
+Ay , marry ; our chains and our jewels .
+
+'Your brooches , pearls , and owches :' for to serve bravely is to come halting off you know : to come off the breach with his pike bent bravely , and to surgery bravely ; to venture upon the charged chambers bravely ,
+
+Hang yourself , you muddy conger , hang yourself !
+
+By my troth , this is the old fashion ; you two never meet but you fall to some discord : you are both , in good troth , as rheumatic as two dry toasts ; you cannot one bear with another's confirmities . What the good-year ! one must bear , and that must be you : you are the weaker vessel , as they say , the emptier vessel .
+
+Can a weak empty vessel bear such a huge full hogshead ? there's a whole merchant's venture of Bourdeaux stuff in him : you have not seen a hulk better stuffed in the hold . Come , I'll be friends with thee , Jack : thou art going to the wars ; and whether I shall ever see thee again or no , there is nobody cares .
+
+
+Sir , Ancient Pistol's below , and would speak with you .
+
+Hang him , swaggering rascal ! let him not come hither : it is the foul-mouthedest rogue in England .
+
+If he swagger , let him not come here : no , by my faith ; I must live amongst my neighbours ; I'll no swaggerers : I am in good name and fame with the very best . Shut the door ; there comes no swaggerers here : I have not lived all this while to have swaggering now : shut the door , I pray you .
+
+Dost thou hear , hostess ?
+
+Pray you , pacify yourself , Sir John : there comes no swaggerers here .
+
+Dost thou hear ? it is mine ancient .
+
+Tilly-fally , Sir John , never tell me : your ancient swaggerer comes not in my doors . I was before Master Tisick , the deputy , t'other day ; and , as he said to me ,'twas no longer ago than Wednesday last ,'Neighbour Quickly ,' says he ;Master Dumbe , our minister , was by then ;'Neighbour Quickly ,' says he , 'receive those that are civil , for ,' said he , 'you are in an ill name ;' now , a' said so , I can tell whereupon ; 'for ,' says he , 'you are an honest woman , and well thought on ; therefore take heed what guests you receive : receive ,' says he , 'no swaggering companions .' There comes none here :you would bless you to hear what he said . No , I'll no swaggerers .
+
+He's no swaggerer , hostess ; a tame cheater , i' faith ; you may stroke him as gently as a puppy greyhound : he will not swagger with a Barbary hen if her feathers turn back in any show of resistance . Call him up , drawer .
+
+
+Cheater , call you him ? I will bar no honest man my house , nor no cheater ; but I do not love swaggering , by my troth ; I am the worse , when one says swagger . Feel , masters , how I shake ; look you , I warrant you .
+
+So you do , hostess .
+
+Do I ? yea , in very truth , do I , an 'twere an aspen leaf : I cannot abide swaggerers .
+
+
+God save you , Sir John !
+
+Welcome , Ancient Pistol . Here , Pistol , I charge you with a cup of sack : do you discharge upon mine hostess .
+
+I will discharge upon her , Sir John , with two bullets .
+
+She is pistol-proof , sir ; you shall hardly offend her .
+
+Come , I'll drink no proofs nor no bullets : I'll drink no more than will do me good , for no man's pleasure , I .
+
+Then to you , Mistress Dorothy ; I will charge you .
+
+Charge me ! I scorn you , scurvy companion . What ! you poor , base , rascally , cheating , lack-linen mate ! Away , you mouldy rogue , away ! I am meat for your master .
+
+I know you , Mistress Dorothy .
+
+Away , you cut-purse rascal ! you filthy bung , away ! By this wine , I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps an you play the saucy cuttle with me . Away , you bottle-ale rascal ! you basket-hilt stale juggler , you ! Since when , I pray you , sir ? God's light ! with two points on your shoulder ? much !
+
+God let me not live . I will murder your ruff for this !
+
+No more , Pistol : I would not have you go off here . Discharge yourself of our company , Pistol .
+
+No , good captain Pistol ; not here , sweet captain .
+
+Captain ! thou abominable damned cheater , art thou not ashamed to be called captain ? An captains were of my mind , they would truncheon you out for taking their names upon you before you have earned them . You a captain , you slave ! for what ? for tearing a poor whore's ruff in a bawdy-house ? He a captain ! Hang him , rogue ! He lives upon mouldy stewed prunes and dried cakes . A captain ! God's light , these villains will make the word captain as odious as the word 'occupy ,' which was an excellent good word before it was ill sorted : therefore captains had need look to it .
+
+Pray thee , go down , good ancient .
+
+Hark thee hither , Mistress Doll .
+
+Not I ; I tell thee what , Corporal Bardolph ; I could tear her . I'll be revenged of her .
+
+Pray thee , go down .
+
+I'll see her damned first ; to Pluto's damned lake , by this hand , to the infernal deep , with Erebus and tortures vile also . Hold hook and line , say I . Down , down , dogs ! down fates ! Have we not Hiren here ?
+
+Good Captain Peesel , be quiet ; it is very late , i' faith . I beseek you now , aggravate your choler .
+
+These be good humours , indeed ! Shall pack-horses ,
+And hollow pamper'd jades of Asia ,
+Which cannot go but thirty miles a day ,
+Compare with C sars , and with Cannibals ,
+And Trojan Greeks ? nay , rather damn them with
+King Cerberus ; and let the welkin roar .
+Shall we fall foul for toys ?
+
+By my troth , captain , these are very bitter words .
+
+Be gone , good ancient : this will grow to a brawl anon .
+
+Dio men like dogs ! give crowns like pins ! Have we not Hiren here ?
+
+O' my word , captain , there's none such here . What the good-year ! do you think I would deny her ? for God's sake ! be quiet .
+
+Then feed , and be fat , my fair Calipolis .
+Come , give's some sack .
+Si fortuna me tormente , sperato me contento .
+Fear we broadsides ? no , let the fiend give fire :
+Give me some sack ; and , sweetheart , lie thou there .
+
+Come we to full points here , and are et ceteras nothing ?
+
+Pistol , I would be quiet .
+
+Sweet knight , I kiss thy neif . What ! we have seen the seven stars .
+
+For God's sake , thrust him down stairs ! I cannot endure such a fustian rascal .
+
+'Thrust him down stairs !' know we not Galloway nags ?
+
+Quoit him down , Bardolph , like a shovegroat shilling : nay , an a' do nothing but speak nothing , a' shall be nothing here .
+
+Come , get you down stairs .
+
+What ! shall we have incision ? Shall we imbrue ?
+
+Then death rock me asleep , abridge my doleful days !
+Why then , let grievous , ghastly , gaping wounds
+Untwine the Sisters Three ! Come , Atropos , I say !
+
+Here's goodly stuff toward !
+
+Give me my rapier , boy .
+
+I pray thee , Jack , I pray thee , do not draw .
+
+Get you down stairs .
+
+
+Here's a goodly tumult ! I'll forswear keeping house , afore I'll be in these tirrits and frights . So ; murder , I warrant now . Alas , alas ! put up your naked weapons ; put up your naked weapons .
+
+
+I pray thee , Jack , be quiet ; the rascal's gone . Ah ! you whoreson little valiant villain , you !
+
+Are you not hurt i' the groin ? methought a' made a shrewd thrust at your belly .
+
+
+Have you turned him out o' doors ?
+
+Yes , sir : the rascal's drunk . You have hurt him , sir , i' the shoulder .
+
+A rascal , to brave me !
+
+Ah , you sweet little rogue , you ! Alas , poor ape , how thou sweatest ! Come , let me wipe thy face ; come on , you whoreson chops . Ah , rogue ! i' faith , I love thee . Thou art as valorous as Hector of Troy , worth five of Agamemnon , and ten times better than the Nine Worthies . Ah , villain !
+
+A rascally slave ! I will toss the rogue in a blanket .
+
+Do , an thou darest for thy heart : an thou dost , I'll canvass thee between a pair of sheets .
+
+
+The music is come , sir .
+
+Let them play . Play , sirs . Sit on my knee , Doll . A rascal bragging slave ! the rogue fled from me like quicksilver .
+
+I' faith , and thou followedst him like a church . Thou whoreson little tidy Bartholomew boar-pig , when wilt thou leave fighting o' days , and foining o' nights , and begin to patch up thine old body for heaven ?
+
+
+Peace , good Doll ! do not speak like a death's head : do not bid me remember mine end .
+
+Sirrah , what humour is the prince of ?
+
+A good shallow young fellow : a' would have made a good pantler , a' would have chipped bread well .
+
+They say , Poins has a good wit .
+
+He a good wit ! hang him , baboon ! his wit is as thick as Tewksbury mustard : there is no more conceit in him than is in a mallet .
+
+Why does the prince love him so , then ?
+
+Because their legs are both of a bigness , and he plays at quoits well , and eats conger and fennel , and drinks off candles' ends for flapdragons , and rides the wild mare with the boys , and jumps upon joint-stools , and swears with a good grace , and wears his boots very smooth , like unto the sign of the leg , and breeds no bate with telling of discreet stories ; and such other gambol faculties a' has , that show a weak mind and an able body , for the which the prince admits him : for the prince himself is such another ; the weight of a hair will turn the scales between their avoirdupois .
+
+Would not this nave of a wheel have his ears cut off ?
+
+Let's beat him before his whore .
+
+Look , whether the withered elder hath not his poll clawed like a parrot .
+
+Is it not strange that desire should so many years outlive performance ?
+
+Kiss me , Doll .
+
+Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction ! what says the almanack to that ?
+
+And , look , whether the fiery Trigon , his man , be not lisping to his master's old tables , his note-book , his counsel-keeper .
+
+Thou dost give me flattering busses .
+
+By my troth , I kiss thee with a most constant heart .
+
+I am old , I am old .
+
+I love thee better than I love e'er a scurvy young boy of them all .
+
+What stuff wilt have a kirtle of ? I shall receive money o' Thursday ; thou shalt have a cap to-morrow . A merry song ! come : it grows late ; we'll to bed . Thou'lt forget me when I am gone .
+
+By my troth , thou'lt set me a-weeping an thou sayst so : prove that ever I dress myself handsome till thy return . Well , hearken at the end .
+
+Some sack , Francis !
+
+Anon , anon , sir .
+
+Anon , anon , sir .
+
+Ha ! a bastard son of the king's ? And art not thou Poins his brother ?
+
+Why , thou globe of sinful cntinents , what a life dost thou lead !
+
+A better than thou : I am a gentleman ; thou art a drawer .
+
+Very true , sir ; and I come to draw you out by the ears .
+
+O ! the Lord preserve thy good Grace ; by my troth , welcome to London . Now , the Lord bless that sweet face of thine ! O Jesu ! are you come from Wales ?
+
+Thou whoreson mad compound of majesty , by this light flesh and corrupt blood
+
+thou art welcome .
+
+How , you fat fool ! I scorn you .
+
+My lord , he will drive you out of your revenge and turn all to a merriment , if you take not the heat .
+
+You whoreson candle-mine , you , how vilely did you speak of me even now before this honest , virtuous , civil gentlewoman !
+
+Blessing on your good heart ! and so she is , by my troth .
+
+Didst thou hear me ?
+
+Yea ; and you knew me , as you did when you ran away by Gadshill : you knew I was at your back , and spoke it on purpose to try my patience .
+
+No , no , no ; not so ; I did not think thou wast within hearing .
+
+I shall drive you then to confess the wilful abuse ; and then I know how to handle you .
+
+No abuse , Hal , o' mine honour ; no abuse .
+
+Not to dispraise me , and call me pantler and bread-chipper and I know not what ?
+
+No abuse , Hal .
+
+No abuse !
+
+No abuse , Ned , in the world ; honest Ned , none . I dispraised him before the wicked , that the wicked might not fall in love with him ; in which doing I have done the part of a careful friend and a true subject , and thy father is to give me thanks for it . No abuse , Hal ; none , Ned , none : no , faith , boys , none .
+
+See now , whether pure fear and entire cowardice doth not make thee wrong this virtuous gentlewoman to close with us ? Is she of the wicked ? Is thine hostess here of the wicked ? Or is thy boy of the wicked ? Or honest Bardolph , whose zeal burns in his nose , of the wicked ?
+
+Answer , thou dead elm , answer .
+
+The fiend hath pricked down Bardolph irrecoverable ; and his face is Lucifer's privykitchen , where he doth nothing but roast maltworms . For the boy , there is a good angel about him ; but the devil outbids him too .
+
+For the women ?
+
+For one of them , she is in hell already , and burns poor souls . For the other , I owe her money ; and whether she be damned for that , I know not .
+
+No , I warrant you .
+
+No , I think thou art not ; I think thou art quit for that . Marry , there is another indictment upon thee , for suffering flesh to be eaten in thy house , contrary to the law ; for the which I think thou wilt howl .
+
+All victuallers do so : what's a joint of mutton or two in a whole Lent ?
+
+You , gentlewoman ,
+
+What says your Grace ?
+
+His Grace says that which his flesh rebels against .
+
+
+Who knocks so loud at door ? Look to the door there , Francis .
+
+
+Peto , how now ! what news ?
+
+The king your father is at Westminster ;
+And there are twenty weak and wearied posts
+Come from the north : and as I came along ,
+I met and overtook a dozen captains ,
+Bare-headed , sweating , knocking at the taverns ,
+And asking every one for Sir John Falstaff .
+
+By heaven , Poins , I feel me much to blame ,
+So idly to profane the precious time ,
+When tempest of commotion , like the south ,
+Borne with black vapour , doth begin to melt
+And drop upon our bare unarmed heads .
+Give me my sword and cloak . Falstaff , good night .
+
+
+Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night , and we must hence and leave it unpicked .
+
+More knocking at the door !
+
+How now ! what's the matter ?
+
+You must away to court , sir , presently ;
+A dozen captains stay at door for you .
+
+Pay the musicians , sirrah . Farewell , hostess ; farewell , Doll . You see , my good wenches , how men of merit are sought after : the undeserver may sleep when the man of action is called on . Farewell , good wenches . If I be not sent away post , I will see you again ere I go .
+
+I cannot speak ; if my heart be not ready to burst ,well , sweet Jack , have a care of thyself .
+
+Farewell , farewell .
+
+
+Well , fare thee well : I have known thee these twenty-nine years , come peascod-time ; but an honester , and truer-hearted man ,well , fare thee well .
+
+Mistress Tearsheet !
+
+What's the matter ?
+
+Bid Mistress Tearsheet come to my master .
+
+O ! run , Doll , run ; run , good Doll .
+
+Go , call the Earls of Surrey and of Warwick ;
+But , ere they come , bid them o'er-read these letters ,
+And well consider of them . Make good speed .
+
+How many thousand of my poorest subjects
+Are at this hour asleep ! O sleep ! O gentle sleep !
+Nature's soft nurse , how have I frighted thee ,
+That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down
+And steep my senses in forgetfulness ?
+Why rather , sleep , liest thou in smoky cribs ,
+Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee ,
+And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber ,
+Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great ,
+Under the canopies of costly state ,
+And lull'd with sound of sweetest melody ?
+O thou dull god ! why liest thou with the vile
+In loathsome beds , and leav'st the kingly couch
+A watch-case or a common 'larum bell ?
+Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast
+Seel up the ship-boy's eyes , and rock his brains
+In cradle of the rude imperious surge ,
+And in the visitation of the winds ,
+Who take the ruffian billows by the top ,
+Curling their monstrous heads , and hanging them
+With deaf'ning clamour in the slippery clouds ,
+That with the hurly death itself awakes ?
+Canst thou , O partial sleep ! give thy repose
+To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude ,
+And in the calmest and most stillest night ,
+With all appliances and means to boot ,
+Deny it to a king ? Then , happy low , lie down !
+Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown .
+
+
+Many good morrows to your majesty !
+
+Is it good morrow , lords ?
+
+'Tis one o'clock , and past .
+
+Why then , good morrow to you all , my lords .
+Have you read o'er the letters that I sent you ?
+
+We have , my liege .
+
+Then you perceive the body of our kingdom ,
+How foul it is ; what rank diseases grow ,
+And with what danger , near the heart of it .
+
+It is but as a body , yet , distemper'd ,
+Which to his former strength may be restor'd
+With good advice and little medicine :
+My Lord Northumberland will soon be cool'd .
+
+O God ! that one might read the book of fate ,
+And see the revolution of the times
+Make mountains level , and the continent ,
+Weary of solid firmness ,melt itself
+Into the sea ! and , other times , to see
+The beachy girdle of the ocean
+Too wide for Neptune's hips ; how chances mock ,
+And changes fill the cup of alteration
+With divers liquors ! O ! if this were seen ,
+The happiest youth , viewing his progress through ,
+What perils past , what crosses to ensue ,
+Would shut the book , and sit him down and die .
+'Tis not ten years gone
+Since Richard and Northumberland , great friends ,
+Did feast together , and in two years after
+Were they at wars : it is but eight years since
+This Percy was the man nearest my soul ,
+Who like a brother toil'd in my affairs
+And laid his love and life under my foot ;
+Yea , for my sake , even to the eyes of Richard
+Gave him defiance . But which of you was by ,
+
+
+You , cousin Nevil , as I may remember ,
+When Richard , with his eye brimful of tears ,
+Then check'd and rated by Northumberland ,
+Did speak these words , now prov'd a prophecy ?
+'Northumberland , thou ladder , by the which
+My cousin Bolingbroke ascends my throne ;'
+Though then , God knows , I had no such intent ,
+But that necessity so bow'd the state
+That I and greatness were compelled to kiss :
+'The time shall come ,' thus did he follow it ,
+'The time will come , that foul sin , gathering head ,
+Shall break into corruption :' so went on ,
+Foretelling this same time's condition
+And the division of our amity .
+
+There is a history in all men's lives ,
+Figuring the nature of the times deceas'd ;
+The which observ'd , a man may prophesy ,
+With a near aim , of the main chance of things
+As yet not come to life , which in their seeds
+And weak leginnings lie intreasured .
+Such things become the hatch and brood of time ;
+And by the necessary form of this
+King Richard might create a perfect guess
+That great Northumberland , then false to him ,
+Would of that seed grow to a greater falseness ,
+Which should not find a ground to root upon ,
+Unless on you .
+
+Are these things then necessities ?
+Then let us meet them like necessities ;
+And that same word even now cries out on us .
+They say the bishop and Northumberland
+Are fifty thousand strong .
+
+It cannot be , my lord !
+Rumour doth double , like the voice and echo ,
+The numbers of the fear'd . Please it your Grace
+To go to bed : upon my soul , my lord ,
+The powers that you already have sent forth
+Shall bring this prize in very easily .
+To comfort you the more , I have receiv'd
+A certain instance that Glendower is dead .
+Your majesty hath been this fortnight ill ,
+And these unseason'd hours perforce must add
+Unto your sickness .
+
+I will take your counsel :
+And were these inward wars once out of hand ,
+We would , dear lords , unto the Holy Land .
+
+
+Come on , come on , come on , sir ; give me your hand , sir , give me your hand , sir : an early stirrer , by the rood ! And how doth my good cousin Silence ?
+
+Good morrow , good cousin Shallow .
+
+And how doth my cousin , your bed-fellow ? and your fairest daughter and mine , my god-daughter Ellen ?
+
+Alas ! a black ousel , cousin Shallow !
+
+By yea and nay , sir , I dare say my cousin William is become a good scholar . He is at Oxford still , is he not ?
+
+Indeed , sir , to my cost .
+
+A' must , then , to the inns o' court shortly . I was once of Clement's Inn ; where I think they will talk of mad Shallow yet .
+
+You were called 'lusty Shallow' then , cousin .
+
+By the mass , I was called any thing ; and I would have done any thing indeed too , and roundly too . There was I , and Little John Doit of Staffordshire , and black George Barnes , and Francis Pickbone , and Will Squele a Cotswold man ; you had not four such swinge-bucklers in all the inns of court again : and , I may say to you , we knew where the bona-robas were , and had the best of them all at commandment . Then was Jack Falstaff , now Sir John , a boy , and page to Thomas Mowbray , Duke of Norfolk .
+
+This Sir John , cousin , that comes hither anon about soldiers ?
+
+The same Sir John , the very same . I saw him break Skogan's head at the court gate , when a' was a crack not thus high : and the very same day did I fight with one Sampson Stockfish , a fruiterer , behind Gray's Inn . Jesu ! Jesu ! the mad days that I have spent ; and to see how many of mine old acquaintance are dead !
+
+We shall all follow , cousin .
+
+Certain , 'tis certain ; very sure , very sure : death , as the Psalmist saith , is certain to all ; all shall die . How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair ?
+
+Truly , cousin , I was not there .
+
+Death is certain . Is old Double of your town living yet ?
+
+Dead , sir .
+
+Jesu ! Jesu ! dead ! a' drew a good bow ; and dead ! a' shot a fine shoot : John a Gaunt loved him well , and betted much money on his head . Dead ! a' would have clapped i' the clout at twelve score ; and carried you a forehand shaft a fourteen and fourteen and a half , that it would have done a man's heart good to see . How a score of ewes now ?
+
+Thereafter as they be : a score of good ewes may be worth ten pounds .
+
+And is old Double dead ?
+
+Here come two of Sir John Falstaff's men , as I think .
+
+
+Good morrow , honest gentlemen : I beseech you , which is Justice Shallow ?
+
+I am Robert Shallow , sir ; a poor esquire of this county , and one of the king's justices of the peace : what is your good pleasure with me ?
+
+My captain , sir , commends him to you ; my captain , Sir John Falstaff : a tall gentleman , by heaven , and a most gallant leader .
+
+He greets me well , sir . I knew him a good backsword man . How doth the good knight ? may I ask how my lady his wife doth ?
+
+Sir , pardon ; a soldier is better accommodated than with a wife .
+
+It is well said , in faith , sir ; and it is well said indeed too . 'Better accommodated !' it is good ; yea indeed , is it : good phrases are surely and ever were , very commendable . Accommodated ! it comes of accommodo : very good ; a good phrase .
+
+Pardon me , sir ; I have heard the word . 'Phrase ,' call you it ? By this good day , I know not the phrase ; but I will maintain the word with my sword to be a soldier-like word , and a word of exceeding good command , by heaven . Accommodated ; that is , when a man is , as they say , accommodated ; or , when a man is , being , whereby , a' may be thought to be accommodated , which is an excellent thing .
+
+
+It is very just . Look , here comes good Sir John . Give me your good hand , give me your worship's good hand . By my troth , you look well and bear your years very well : welcome , good Sir John .
+
+I am glad to see you well , good Master Robert Shallow . Master Surecard , as I think .
+
+No , Sir John ; it is my cousin , Silence , in commission with me .
+
+Good Master Silence , it well befits you should be of the peace .
+
+Your good worship is welcome .
+
+Fie ! this is hot weather , gentlemen .
+Have you provided me here half a dozen sufficient men ?
+
+Marry , have we , sir . Will you sit ?
+
+Let me see them , I beseech you .
+
+Where's the roll ? where's the roll ? where's the roll ? Let me see , let me see , let me see . So , so , so , so , so , so , so : yea , marry , sir : Ralph Mouldy ! let them appear as I call ; let them do so , let them do so . Let me see ; where is Mouldy ?
+
+Here , an't please you .
+
+What think you , Sir John ? a goodlimbed fellow ; young , strong , and of good friends .
+
+Is thy name Mouldy ?
+
+Yea , an't please you .
+
+'Tis the more time thou wert used .
+
+Ha , ha , ha ! most excellent , i' faith ! things that are mouldy lack use : very singular good . In faith , well said , Sir John ; very well said .
+
+Prick him .
+
+I was pricked well enough before , an you could have let me alone : my old dame will be undone now for one to do her husbandry and her drudgery : you need not to have pricked me ; there are other men fitter to go out than I .
+
+Go to : peace , Mouldy ! you shall go . Mouldy , it is time you were spent .
+
+Spent !
+
+Peace , fellow , peace ! stand aside : know you where you are ? For the other , Sir John : let me see . Simon Shadow !
+
+Yea , marry , let me have him to sit under : he's like to be a cold soldier .
+
+Where's Shadow ?
+
+Here , sir .
+
+Shadow , whose son art thou ?
+
+My mother's son , sir .
+
+Thy mother's son ! like enough , and thy father's shadow : so the son of the female is the shadow of the male : it is often so , indeed ; but not of the father's substance .
+
+Do you like him , Sir John ?
+
+Shadow will serve for summer ; prick him , for we have a number of shadows to fill up the muster-book .
+
+Thomas Wart ?
+
+Where's he ?
+
+Here , sir .
+
+Is thy name Wart ?
+
+Yea , sir .
+
+Thou art a very ragged wart .
+
+Shall I prick him , Sir John ?
+
+It were superfluous ; for his apparel is built upon his back , and the whole frame stands upon pins : prick him no more .
+
+Ha , ha , ha ! you can do it , sir ; you can do it : I commend you well . Francis Feeble !
+
+Here , sir .
+
+What trade art thou , Feeble ?
+
+A woman's tailor , sir .
+
+Shall I prick him , sir ?
+
+You may ; but if he had been a man's tailor he'd have pricked you . Wilt thou make as many holes in an enemy's battle as thou hast done in a woman's petticoat ?
+
+I will do my good will , sir : you can have no more .
+
+Well said , good woman's tailor ! well said , courageous Feeble ! Thou wilt be as valiant as the wrathful dove or most magnanimous mouse . Prick the woman's tailor ; well , Master Shallow ; deep , Master Shallow .
+
+I would Wart might have gone , sir .
+
+I would thou wert a man's tailor , that thou mightst mend him , and make him fit to go . I cannot put him to a private soldier that is the leader of so many thousands : let that suffice , most forcible Feeble .
+
+It shall suffice , sir .
+
+I am bound to thee , reverend Feeble .
+Who is next ?
+
+Peter Bullcalf o' the green !
+
+Yea , marry , let's see Bullcalf .
+
+Here , sir .
+
+'Fore God , a likely fellow ! Come , prick me Bullcalf till he roar again .
+
+O Lord ! good my lord captain ,
+
+What ! dost thou roar before thou art pricked ?
+
+O Lord , sir ! I am a diseased man .
+
+What disease hast thou ?
+
+A whoreson cold , sir ; a cough , sir , which I caught with ringing in the king's affairs upon his coronation day , sir .
+
+Come , thou shalt go to the wars in a gown ; we will have away thy cold ; and I will take such order that thy friends shall ring for thee . Is here all ?
+
+Here is two more called than your number ; you must have but four here , sir : and so , I pray you , go in with me to dinner .
+
+Come , I will go drink with you , but I cannot tarry dinner . I am glad to see you , by my troth , Master Shallow .
+
+O , Sir John , do you remember since we lay all night in the windmill in Saint George's fields ?
+
+No more of that , good Master Shallow , no more of that .
+
+Ha ! it was a merry night . And is Jane Nightwork alive ?
+
+She lives , Master Shallow .
+
+She never could away with me .
+
+Never , never ; she would always say she could not abide Master Shallow .
+
+By the mass , I could anger her to the heart . She was then a bona-roba . Doth she hold her own well ?
+
+Old , old , Master Shallow .
+
+Nay she must be old ; she cannot choose but be old ; certain she's old ; and had Robin Nightwork by old Nightwork before I came to Clement's Inn .
+
+That's fifty-five year ago .
+
+Ha ! cousin Silence , that thou hadst seen that that this knight and I have seen . Ha ! Sir John , said I well ?
+
+We have heard the chimes at midnight , Master Shallow .
+
+That we have , that we have , that we have ; in faith , Sir John , we have . Our watchword was , 'Hem , boys !' Come , let's to dinner ; come , let's to dinner . Jesus , the days that we have seen ! Come , come .
+
+
+Good Master Corporate Bardolph , stand my friend , and here's four Harry ten shillings in French crowns for you . In very truth , sir , I had as lief be hanged , sir , as go : and yet , for mine own part , sir , I do not care ; but rather , because I am unwilling , and , for mine own part , have a desire to stay with my friends : else , sir , I did not care , for mine own part , so much .
+
+Go to ; stand aside .
+
+And , good Master corporal captain , for my old dame's sake , stand my friend : she has nobody to do any thing about her , when I am gone ; and she is old , and cannot help herself . You shall have forty , sir .
+
+Go to ; stand aside .
+
+By my troth , I care not ; a man can die but once ; we owe God a death . I'll ne'er bear a base mind : an't be my destiny , so ; an't be not , so . No man's too good to serve's prince ; and let it go which way it will , he that dies this year is quit for the next .
+
+Well said ; thou'rt a good fellow .
+
+Faith , I'll bear no base mind .
+
+
+Come , sir , which men shall I have ?
+
+Four , of which you please .
+
+Sir , a word with you . I have three pound to free Mouldy and Bullcalf .
+
+Go to ; well .
+
+Come , Sir John , which four will you have ?
+
+Do you choose for me .
+
+Marry , then , Mouldy , Bullcalf , Feeble , and Shadow .
+
+Mouldy , and Bullcalf : for you , Mouldy , stay at home till you are past service : and for your part , Bullcalf , grow till you come unto it : I will none of you .
+
+Sir John , Sir John , do not yourself wrong : they are your likeliest men , and I would have you served with the best .
+
+Will you tell me , Master Shallow , how to choose a man ? Care I for the limb , the thewes , the stature , bulk , and big assemblance of a man ! Give me the spirit , Master Shallow . Here's Wart ; you see what a ragged appearance it is : a' shall charge you and discharge you with the motion of a pewterer's hammer , come off and on swifter than he that gibbets on the brewer's bucket . And this same half-faced fellow , Shadow , give me this man : he presents no mark to the enemy ; the foeman may with as great aim level at the edge of a penknife . And , for a retreat ; how swiftly will this Feeble the woman's tailor run off ! O ! give me the spare men , and spare me the great ones . Put me a caliver into Wart's hand , Bardolph .
+
+Hold , Wart , traverse ; thus , thus , thus .
+
+Come , manage me your caliver . So : very well : go to : very good : exceeding good . O , give me always a little , lean , old , chopp'd , bald shot . Well said , i' faith , Wart ; thou'rt a good scab : hold , there's a tester for thee .
+
+He is not his craft's master , he doth not do it right . I remember at Mile-end Green , when I lay at Clement's Inn ,I was then Sir Dagonet in Arthur's show ,there was a little quiver fellow , and a' would manage you his piece thus : and a' would about and about , and come you in , and come you in ; 'rah , tah , tah ,' would a' say ; 'bounce ,' would a' say ; and away again would a' go , and again would a' come : I shall never see such a fellow .
+
+These fellows will do well , Master Shallow . God keep you , Master Silence : I will not use many words with you . Fare you well , gentlemen both : I thank you : I must a dozen mile to-night . Bardolph , give the soldiers coats .
+
+Sir John , the Lord bless you ! and prosper your affairs ! God send us peace ! At your return visit our house ; let our old acquaintance be renewed : peradventure I will with ye to the court .
+
+'Fore God I would you would , Master Shallow .
+
+Go to ; I have spoke at a word . God keep you .
+
+Fare you well , gentle gentlemen .
+
+As I return , I will fetch off these justices : I do see the bottom of Justice Shallow . Lord , Lord ! how subject we old men are to this vice of lying . This same starved justice hath done nothing but prate to me of the wildness of his youth and the feats he hath done about Turnbull Street ; and every third word a lie , duer paid to the hearer than the Turk's tribute . I do remember him at Clement's Inn like a man made after supper of a cheese-paring : when a' was naked he was for all the world like a forked radish , with a head fantastically carved upon it with a knife : a' was so forlorn that his dimensions to any thick sight were invincible : a' was the very genius of famine ; yet lecherous as a monkey , and the whores called him mandrake : a' came ever in the rearward of the fashion and sung those tunes to the over-scutched huswives that he heard the carmen whistle , and sware they were his fancies or his good-nights . And now is this Vice's dagger become a squire , and talks as familiarly of John a Gaunt as if he had been sworn brother to him ; and I'll be sworn a' never saw him but once in the Tilt-yard , and then he burst his head for crowding among the marshal's men . I saw it and told John a Gaunt he beat his own name ; for you might have thrust him and all his apparel into an eel-skin ; the case of a treble hautboy was a mansion for him , a court ; and now has he land and beefs . Well , I will be acquainted with him , if I return ; and it shall go hard but I will make him a philosopher's two stones to me . If the young dace be a bait for the old pike , I see no reason in the law of nature but I may snap at him . Let time shape , and there an end .
+
+What is this forest call'd ?
+
+'Tis Gaultree Forest , an't shall please your Grace .
+
+Here stand , my lords , and send discovers forth ,
+To know the numbers of our enemies .
+
+We have sent forth already .
+
+'Tis well done .
+My friends and brethren in these great affairs ,
+I must acquaint you that I have receiv'd
+New-dated letters from Northumberland ;
+Their cold intent , tenour and substance , thus :
+Here doth he wish his person , with such powers
+As might hold sortance with his quality ;
+The which he could not levy ; whereupon
+He is retir'd , to ripe his growing fortunes ,
+To Scotland ; and concludes in hearty prayers
+That your attempts may overlive the hazard
+And fearful meeting of their opposite .
+
+Thus do the hopes we have in him touch ground
+And dash themselves to pieces .
+
+
+Now , what news ?
+
+West of this forest , scarcely off a mile ,
+In goodly form comes on the enemy ;
+And , by the ground they hide , I judge their number
+Upon or near the rate of thirty thousand .
+
+The just proportion that we gave them out .
+Let us sway on and face them in the field .
+
+
+What well-appointed leader fronts us here ?
+
+I think it is my Lord of Westmoreland .
+
+Health and fair greeting from our general .
+The Prince , Lord John and Duke of Lancaster .
+
+Say on , my Lord of Westmoreland , in peace ,
+What doth concern your coming .
+
+Then , my lord ,
+Unto your Grace do I in chief address
+The substance of my speech . If that rebellion
+Came like itself , in base and abject routs ,
+Led on by bloody youth , guarded with rags ,
+And countenanc'd by boys and beggary ;
+I say , if damn'd commotion so appear'd ,
+In his true , native , and most proper shape ,
+You , reverend father , and these noble lords
+Had not been here , to dress the ugly form
+Of base and bloody insurrection
+With your fair honours . You , lord archbishop ,
+Whose see is by a civil peace maintain'd ,
+Whose beard the silver hand of peace hath touch'd ,
+Whose learning and good letters peace hath tutor'd ,
+Whose white investments figure innocence ,
+The dove and very blessed spirit of peace ,
+Wherefore do you so ill translate yourself
+Out of the speech of peace that bears such grace
+Into the harsh and boisterous tongue of war ;
+Turning your books to greaves , your ink to blood ,
+Your pens to lances , and your tongue divine
+To a loud trumpet and a point of war ?
+
+Wherefore do I this ? so the question stands .
+Briefly to this end : we are all diseas'd ;
+And , with our surfeiting and wanton hours
+Have brought ourselves into a burning fever ,
+And we must bleed for it : of which disease
+Our late king , Richard , being infected , died .
+But , my most noble Lord of Westmoreland ,
+I take not on me here as a physician ,
+Nor do I as an enemy to peace
+Troop in the throngs of military men ;
+But rather show a while like fearful war ,
+To diet rank minds sick of happiness
+And purge the obstructions which begin to stop
+Our very veins of life . Hear me more plainly :
+I have in equal balance justly weigh'd
+What wrongs our arms may do , what wrongs we suffer ,
+And find our griefs heavier than our offences .
+We see which way the stream of time doth run
+And are enforc'd from our most quiet sphere
+By the rough torrent of occasion ;
+And have the summary of all our griefs ,
+When time shall serve , to show in articles ,
+Which long ere this we offer'd to the king ,
+And might by no suit gain our audience .
+When we are wrong'd and would unfold our griefs ,
+We are denied access unto his person
+Even by those men that most have done us wrong .
+The dangers of the days but newly gone ,
+Whose memory is written on the earth
+With yet appearing blood ,and the examples
+Of every minute's instance , present now ,
+Have put us in these ill-beseeming arms ;
+Not to break peace , or any branch of it ,
+But to establish here a peace indeed ,
+Concurring both in name and quality .
+
+When ever yet was your appeal denied ?
+Wherein have you been galled by the king ?
+What peer hath been suborn'd to grate on you ,
+That you should seal this lawless bloody book
+Of forg'd rebellion with a seal divine ,
+And consecrate commotion's bitter edge ?
+
+My brother general , the commonwealth ,
+To brother born an household cruelty ,
+I make my quarrel in particular .
+
+There is no need of any such redress ;
+Or if there were , it not belongs to you .
+
+Why not to him in part , and to us all
+That feel the bruises of the days before ,
+And suffer the condition of these times
+To lay a heavy and unequal hand
+Upon our honours ?
+
+O ! my good Lord Mowbray ,
+Construe the times to their necessities ,
+And you shall say indeed , it is the time ,
+And not the king , that doth you injuries .
+Yet , for your part , it not appears to me
+Either from the king or in the present time
+That you should have an inch of any ground
+To build a grief on : were you not restor'd
+To all the Duke of Norfolk's signories ,
+Your noble and right well-remember'd father's ?
+
+What thing , in honour , had my father lost ,
+That need to be reviv'd and breath'd in me ?
+The king that lov'd him as the state stood then ,
+Was force perforce compell'd to banish him :
+And then that Harry Bolingbroke and he ,
+Being mounted and both roused in their seats ,
+Their neighing coursers daring of the spur ,
+Their armed staves in charge , their beavers down ,
+Their eyes of fire sparkling through sights of steel ,
+And the loud trumpet blowing them together ,
+Then , then , when there was nothing could have stay'd
+My father from the breast of Bolingbroke ,
+O ! when the king did throw his warder down ,
+His own life hung upon the staff he threw ;
+Then threw he down himself and all their lives
+That by indictment and by dint of sword
+Have since miscarried under Bolingbroke .
+
+You speak , Lord Mowbray , now you know not what .
+The Earl of Hereford was reputed then
+In England the most valiant gentleman :
+Who knows on whom Fortune would then have smil'd ?
+But if your father had been victor there ,
+He ne'er had borne it out of Coventry ;
+For all the country in a general voice
+Cried hate upon him ; and all their prayers and love
+Were set on Hereford , whom they doted on
+And bless'd and grac'd indeed , more than the king .
+But this is mere digression from my purpose .
+Here come I from our princely general
+To know your griefs ; to tell you from his Grace
+That he will give you audience ; and wherein
+It shall appear that your demands are just ,
+You shall enjoy them ; every thing set off
+That might so much as think you enemies .
+
+But he hath forc'd us to compel this offer ,
+And it proceeds from policy , not love .
+
+Mowbray , you overween to take it so .
+This offer comes from mercy , not from fear :
+For , lo ! within a ken our army lies
+Upon mine honour , all too confident
+To give admittance to a thought of fear .
+Our battle is more full of names than yours ,
+Our men more perfect in the use of arms ,
+Our armour all as strong , our cause the best ;
+Then reason will our hearts should be as good :
+Say you not then our offer is compell'd .
+
+Well , by my will we shall admit no parley .
+
+That argues but the shame of your offence :
+A rotten case abides no handling .
+
+Hath the Prince John a full commission ,
+In very ample virtue of his father ,
+To hear and absolutely to determine
+Of what conditions we shall stand upon ?
+
+That is intended in the general's name .
+I muse you make so slight a question .
+
+Then take , my Lord of Westmoreland , this schedule ,
+For this contains our general grievances :
+Each several article herein redress'd ;
+All members of our cause , both here and hence ,
+That are insinew'd to this action ,
+Acquitted by a true substantial form
+And present execution of our wills
+To us and to our purposes consign'd ;
+We come within our awful banks again
+And knit our powers to the arm of peace .
+
+This will I show the general . Please you , lords ,
+In sight of both our battles we may meet ;
+And either end in peace , which God so frame !
+Or to the place of difference call the swords
+Which must decide it .
+
+My lord , we will do so .
+
+
+There is a thing within my bosom tells me
+That no conditions of our peace can stand .
+
+Fear you not that : if we can make our peace
+Upon such large terms , and so absolute
+As our condition shall consist upon ,
+Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains .
+
+Yea , but our valuation shall be such
+That every slight and false-derived cause ,
+Yea , every idle , nice , and wanton reason
+Shall to the king taste of this action ;
+That , were our royal faiths martyrs in love ,
+We shall be winnow'd with so rough a wind
+That even our corn shall seem as light as chaff
+And good from bad find no partition .
+
+No , no , my lord . Note this ; the king is weary
+Of dainty and such picking grievances :
+For he hath found to end one doubt by death
+Revives two greater in the heirs of life ;
+And therefore will he wipe his tables clean ,
+And keep no tell-tale to his memory
+That may repeat and history his loss
+To new remembrance ; for full well he knows
+He cannot so precisely weed this land
+As his misdoubts present occasion :
+His foes are so enrooted with his friends
+That , plucking to unfix an enemy ,
+He doth unfasten so and shake a friend .
+So that this land , like an offensive wife ,
+That hath enrag'd him on to offer strokes ,
+As he is striking , holds his infant up
+And hangs resolv'd correction in the arm
+That was uprear'd to execution .
+
+Besides , the king hath wasted all his rods
+On late offenders , that he now doth lack
+The very instruments of chastisement ;
+So that his power , like to a fangless lion ,
+May offer , but not hold .
+
+'Tis very true :
+And therefore be assur'd , my good lord marshal ,
+If we do now make our atonement well ,
+Our peace will , like a broken limb united ,
+Grow stronger for the breaking .
+
+Be it so .
+Here is return'd my Lord of Westmoreland .
+
+
+The prince is here at hand : pleaseth your lordship ,
+To meet his Grace just distance 'tween our armies ?
+
+Your Grace of York , in God's name then , set forward .
+
+Before , and greet his Grace : my lord , we come .
+
+You are well encounter'd here , my cousin Mowbray :
+Good day to you , gentle lord archbishop ;
+And so to you , Lord Hastings , and to all .
+My Lord of York , it better show'd with you ,
+When that your flock , assembled by the bell ,
+Encircled you to hear with reverence
+Your exposition on the holy text
+Than now to see you here an iron man ,
+Cheering a rout of rebels with your drum ,
+Turning the word to sword and life to death .
+That man that sits within a monarch's heart
+And ripens in the sunshine of his favour ,
+Would he abuse the countenance of the king ,
+Alack ! what mischief might he set abroach
+In shadow of such greatness . With you , lord bishop ,
+It is even so . Who hath not heard it spoken
+How deep you were within the books of God ?
+To us , the speaker in his parliament ;
+To us the imagin'd voice of God himself ;
+The very opener and intelligencer
+Between the grace , the sanctities of heaven ,
+And our dull workings . O ! who shall believe
+But you misuse the reverence of your place ,
+Employ the countenance and grace of heaven ,
+As a false favourite doth his prince's name ,
+In deeds dishonourable ? You have taken up ,
+Under the counterfeited zeal of God ,
+The subjects of his substitute , my father ;
+And both against the peace of heaven and him
+Have here upswarm'd them .
+
+Good my Lord of Lancaster ,
+I am not here against your father's peace ;
+But , as I told my Lord of Westmoreland ,
+The time misorder'd doth , in common sense ,
+Crowd us and crush us to this monstrous form ,
+To hold our safety up . I sent your Grace
+The parcels and particulars of our grief ,
+The which hath been with scorn shov'd from the court ,
+Whereon this Hydra son of war is born ;
+Whose dangerous eyes may well be charm'd asleep
+With grant of our most just and right desires ,
+And true obedience , of this madness cur'd ,
+Stoop tamely to the foot of majesty .
+
+If not , we ready are to try our fortunes
+To the last man .
+
+And though we here fall down ,
+We have supplies to second our attempt :
+If they miscarry , theirs shall second them ;
+And so success of mischief shall be born ,
+And heir from heir shall hold this quarrel up
+Whiles England shall have generation .
+
+You are too shallow , Hastings , much too shallow ,
+To sound the bottom of the after-times .
+
+Pleaseth your Grace , to answer them directly
+How far forth you do like their articles .
+
+I like them all , and do allow them well ;
+And swear here , by the honour of my blood ,
+My father's purposes have been mistook ,
+And some about him have too lavishly
+Wrested his meaning and authority .
+My lord , these griefs shall be with speed redress'd ;
+Upon my soul , they shall . If this may please you ,
+Discharge your powers unto their several counties ,
+As we will ours : and here between the armies
+Let's drink together friendly and embrace ,
+That all their eyes may bear those tokens home
+Of our restored love and amity .
+
+I take your princely word for these redresses .
+
+I give it you , and will maintain my word :
+And thereupon I drink unto your Grace .
+
+Go , captain , and deliver to the army
+This news of peace : let them have pay , and part :
+I know it will well please them : hie thee , captain .
+
+
+To you , my noble Lord of Westmoreland .
+
+I pledge your Grace : and , if you knew what pains
+I have bestow'd to breed this present peace ,
+You would drink freely ; but my love to you
+Shall show itself more openly hereafter .
+
+I do not doubt you .
+
+I am glad of it .
+Health to my lord and gentle cousin , Mowbray .
+
+You wish me health in very happy season ;
+For I am , on the sudden , something ill .
+
+Against ill chances men are ever merry ,
+But heaviness foreruns the good event .
+
+Therefore be merry , coz ; since sudden sorrow
+Serves to say thus , Some good thing comes to morrow .
+
+Believe me , I am passing light in spirit .
+
+So much the worse if your own rule be true .
+
+
+The word of peace is render'd : hark , how they shout !
+
+This had been cheerful , after victory .
+
+A peace is of the nature of a conquest ;
+For then both parties nobly are subdu'd ,
+And neither party loser .
+
+Go , my lord ,
+And let our army be discharged too .
+
+And , good my lord , so please you , let our trains
+March by us , that we may peruse the men
+We should have cop'd withal .
+
+Go , good Lord Hastings ,
+And , ere they be dismiss'd , let them march by .
+
+
+I trust , lords , we shall lie to-night together .
+
+Now , cousin , wherefore stands our army still ?
+
+The leaders , having charge from you to stand ,
+Will not go off until they hear you speak .
+
+They know their duties .
+
+
+My lord , our army is dispers'd already :
+Like youthful steers unyok'd , they take their courses
+East , west , north , south ; or , like a school broke up ,
+Each hurries toward his home and sporting-place .
+
+Good tidings , my Lord Hastings ; for the which
+I do arrest thee , traitor , of high treason :
+And you , lord archbishop , and you , Lord Mowbray ,
+Of capital treason I attach you both .
+
+Is this proceeding just and honourable ?
+
+Is your assembly so ?
+
+Will you thus break your faith ?
+
+I pawn'd thee none .
+I promis'd you redress of these same grievances
+Whereof you did complain ; which , by mine honour ,
+I will perform with a most Christian care .
+But for you , rebels , look to taste the due
+Meet for rebellion and such acts as yours .
+Most shallowly did you these arms commence ,
+Fondly brought here and foolishly sent hence .
+Strike up our drums ! pursue the scatter'd stray :
+God , and not we , hath safely fought to-day .
+Some guard these traitors to the block of death ;
+Treason's true bed , and yielder up of breath .
+
+
+What's your name , sir ? of what condition are you , and of what place , I pray ?
+
+I am a knight , sir ; and my name is Colevile of the dale .
+
+Well then , Colevile is your name , a knight is your degree , and your place the dale : Colevile shall still be your name , a traitor your degree , and the dungeon your place , a place deep enough ; so shall you be still Colevile of the dale .
+
+Are not you Sir John Falstaff ?
+
+As good a man as he , sir , whoe'er I am . Do ye yield , sir , or shall I sweat for you ? If I do sweat , they are the drops of thy lovers , and they weep for thy death : therefore rouse up fear and trembling , and do observance to my mercy .
+
+I think you are Sir John Falstaff , and in that thought yield me .
+
+I have a whole school of tongues in this belly of mine , and not a tongue of them all speaks any other word but my name . An I had but a belly of any indifferency , I were simply the most active fellow in Europe : my womb , my womb , my womb undoes me . Here comes our general .
+
+
+The heat is past , follow no further now .
+Call in the powers , good cousin Westmoreland .
+
+Now , Falstaff , where have you been all this while ?
+When everything is ended , then you come :
+These tardy tricks of yours will , on my life ,
+One time or other break some gallows' back .
+
+I would be sorry , my lord , but it should be thus : I never knew yet but rebuke and check was the reward of valour . Do you think me a swallow , an arrow , or a bullet ? have I , in my poor and old motion , the expedition of thought ? I have speeded hither with the very extremest inch of possibility ; I have foundered nine score and odd posts ; and here , travel-tainted as I am , have , in my pure and immaculate valour , taken Sir John Colevile of the dale , a most furious knight and valorous enemy . But what of that ? he saw me , and yielded ; that I may justly say with the hook-nosed fellow of Rome , 'I came , saw , and overcame .'
+
+It was more of his courtesy than your deserving .
+
+I know not : here he is , and here I yield him ; and I beseech your Grace , let it be booked with the rest of this day's deeds ; or , by the Lord , I will have it in a particular ballad else , with mine own picture on the top on't , Colevile kissing my foot . To the which course if I be enforced , if you do not all show like gilt two-pences to me , and I in the clear sky of fame o'ershine you as much as the full moon doth the cinders of the element , which show like pins' heads to her , believe not the word of the noble . Therefore let me have right , and let desert mount .
+
+Thine's too heavy to mount .
+
+Let it shine then .
+
+Thine's too thick to shine .
+
+Let it do something , my good lord , that may do me good , and call it what you will .
+
+Is thy name Colevile ?
+
+It is , my lord .
+
+A famous rebel art thou , Colevile .
+
+And a famous true subject took him .
+
+I am , my lord , but as my betters are
+That led me hither : had they been rul'd by me
+You should have won them dearer than you have .
+
+I know not how they sold themselves : but thou , like a kind fellow , gavest thyself away gratis , and I thank thee for thee .
+
+
+Have you left pursuit ?
+
+Retreat is made and execution stay'd .
+
+Send Colevile with his confederates
+To York , to present execution .
+Blunt , lead him hence , and see you guard him sure .
+
+And now dispatch we toward the court , my lords :
+I hear , the king my father is sore sick :
+Our news shall go before us to his majesty ,
+Which , cousin
+
+, you shall bear , to comfort him ;
+And we with sober speed will follow you .
+
+My lord , I beseech you , give me leave to go ,
+Through Gloucestershire , and when you come to court
+Stand my good lord , pray , in your good report .
+
+Fare you well , Falstaff : I , in my condition ,
+Shall better speak of you than you deserve .
+
+
+I would you had but the wit : 'twere better than your dukedom . Good faith , this same young sober-blooded boy doth not love me ; nor a man cannot make him laugh ; but that's no marvel , he drinks no wine . There's never none of these demure boys come to any proof ; for thin drink doth so over-cool their blood , and making many fish-meals , that they fall into a kind of male green-sickness ; and then , when they marry , they get wenches . They are generally fools and cowards , which some of us should be too but for inflammation . A good sherris-sack hath a two-fold operation in it . It ascends me into the brain ; dries me there all the foolish and dull and crudy vapours which environ it ; makes it apprehensive , quick , forgetive , full of nimble fiery and delectable shapes ; which , deliver'd o'er to the voice , the tongue , which is the birth , becomes excellent wit . The second property of your excellent sherris is , the warming of the blood ; which , before cold and settled , left the liver white and pale , which is the badge of pusillanimity and cowardice : but the sherris warms it and makes it course from the inwards to the parts extreme . It illumineth the face , which , as a beacon , gives warning to all the rest of this little kingdom , man , to arm ; and then the vital commoners and inland petty spirits muster me all to their captain , the heart , who , great and puffed up with this retinue , doth any deed of courage ; and this valour comes of sherris . So that skill in the weapon is nothing without sack , for that sets it a-work ; and leaining , a mere hoard of gold kept by a devil till sack commences it and sets it in act and use . Hereof comes it that Prince Harry is valiant ; for the cold blood he did naturally inherit of his father , he hath , like lean , sterile , and bare land , manured , husbanded , and tilled , with excellent endeavour of drinking good and good store of fertile sherris , that he is become very hot and valiant . If I had a thousand sons , the first human principle I would teach them should be , to forswear thin potations and to addict themselves to sack .
+
+How now , Bardolph ?
+
+The army is discharged all and gone .
+
+Let them go . I'll through Gloucestershire ; and there will I visit Master Robert Shallow , esquire : I have him already tempering between my finger and my thumb , and shortly will I seal with him . Come away .
+
+
+Now , lords , if God doth give successful end
+To this debate that bleedeth at our doors ,
+We will our youth lead on to higher fields
+And draw no swords but what are sanctified .
+Our navy is address'd , our power collected ,
+Our substitutes in absence well invested ,
+And everything lies level to our wish :
+Only , we want a little personal strength ;
+And pause us , till these rebels , now afoot ,
+Come underneath the yoke of government .
+
+Both which we doubt not but your majesty
+Shall soon enjoy .
+
+Humphrey , my son of Gloucester ,
+Where is the prince your brother ?
+
+I think he's gone to hunt , my lord , at Windsor .
+
+And how accompanied ?
+
+I do not know , my lord .
+
+Is not his brother Thomas of Clarence with him ?
+
+No , my good lord ; he is in presence here .
+
+What would my lord and father ?
+
+Nothing but well to thee , Thomas of Clarence .
+How chance thou art not with the prince thy brother ?
+He loves thee , and thou dost neglect him , Thomas ;
+Thou hast a better place in his affection
+Than all thy brothers : cherish it , my boy ,
+And noble offices thou mayst effect
+Of mediation , after I am dead ,
+Between his greatness and thy other brethren :
+Therefore omit him not ; blunt not his love ,
+Nor lose the good advantage of his grace
+By seeming cold or careless of his will ;
+For he is gracious , if he be observ'd :
+He hath a tear for pity and a hand
+Open as day for melting charity ;
+Yet , notwithstanding , being incens'd , he's flint ;
+As humorous as winter , and as sudden
+As flaws congealed in the spring of day .
+His temper therefore must be well observ'd :
+Chide him for faults , and do it reverently ,
+When you perceive his blood inclin'd to mirth ;
+But , being moody , give him line and scope ,
+Till that his passions , like a whale on ground ,
+Confound themselves with working . Learn this , Thomas ,
+And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends ,
+A hoop of gold to bind thy brothers in ,
+That the united vessel of their blood ,
+Mingled with venom of suggestion
+As , force perforce , the age will pour it in
+Shall never leak , though it do work as strong
+As aconitum or rash gunpowder .
+
+I shall observe him with all care and love .
+
+Why art thou not at Windsor with him , Thomas ?
+
+He is not there to-day ; he dines in London .
+
+And how accompanied ? canst thou tell that ?
+
+With Poins and other his continual followers .
+
+Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds ;
+And he , the noble image of my youth ,
+Is overspread with them : therefore my grief
+Stretches itself beyond the hour of death :
+The blood weeps from my heart when I do shape
+In forms imaginary the unguided days
+And rotten times that you shall look upon
+When I am sleeping with my ancestors .
+For when his headstrong riot hath no curb ,
+When rage and hot blood are his counsellors ,
+When means and lavish manners meet together ,
+O ! with what wings shall his affections fly
+Towards fronting peril and oppos'd decay .
+
+My gracious lord , you look beyond him quite :
+The prince but studies his companions
+Like a strange tongue , wherein , to gain the language ,
+'Tis needful that the most immodest word
+Be look'd upon , and learn'd ; which once attain'd ,
+Your highness knows , comes to no further use
+But to be known and hated . So , like gross terms ,
+The prince will in the perfectness of time
+Cast off his followers ; and their memory
+Shall as a pattern or a measure live ,
+By which his Grace must mete the lives of others ,
+Turning past evils to advantages .
+
+'Tis seldom when the bee doth leave her comb
+In the dead carrion .
+
+Who's here ? Westmoreland !
+
+Health to my sovereign , and new happiness
+Added to that that I am to deliver !
+Prince John your son doth kiss your Grace's hand :
+Mowbray , the Bishop Scroop , Hastings and all
+Are brought to the correction of your law .
+There is not now a rebel's sword unsheath'd ,
+But Peace puts forth her olive everywhere .
+The manner how this action hath been borne
+Here at more leisure may your highness read ,
+With every course in his particular .
+
+O Westmoreland ! thou art a summer bird ,
+Which ever in the haunch of winter sings
+The lifting up of day .
+
+Look ! here's more news .
+
+From enemies heaven keep your majesty ;
+And , when they stand against you , may they fall
+As those that I am come to tell you of !
+The Earl Northumberland , and the Lord Bardolph ,
+With a great power of English and of Scots ,
+Are by the sheriff of Yorkshire overthrown .
+The manner and true order of the fight
+This packet , please it you , contains at large .
+
+And wherefore should these good news make me sick ?
+Will Fortune never come with both hands full
+But write her fair words still in foulest letters ?
+She either gives a stomach and no food ;
+Such are the poor , in health ; or else a feast
+And takes away the stomach ; such are the rich ,
+That have abundance and enjoy it not .
+I should rejoice now at this happy news ,
+And now my sight fails , and my brain is giddy .
+O me ! come near me , now I am much ill .
+
+Comfort , your majesty !
+
+O my royal father !
+
+My sovereign lord , cheer up yourself : look up !
+
+Be patient , princes : you do know these fits
+Are with his highness very ordinary :
+Stand from him , give him air ; he'll straight be well .
+
+No , no ; he cannot long hold out these pangs :
+The incessant care and labour of his mind
+Hath wrought the mure that should confine it in
+So thin , that life looks through and will break out .
+
+The people fear me ; for they do observe
+Unfather'd heirs and loathly births of nature :
+The seasons change their manners , as the year
+Had found some months asleep and leap'd them over .
+
+The river hath thrice flow'd , no ebb between ;
+And the old folk , time's doting chronicles ,
+Say it did so a little time before
+That our great-grandsire , Edward , sick'd and died .
+
+Speak lower , princes , for the king recovers .
+
+This apoplexy will certain be his end .
+
+I pray you take me up , and bear me hence
+Into some other chamber : softly , pray .
+
+Let there be no noise made , my gentle friends ;
+Unless some dull and favourable hand
+Will whisper music to my weary spirit .
+
+Call for the music in the other room .
+
+Set me the crown upon my pillow here .
+
+His eye is hollow , and he changes much .
+
+Less noise , less noise !
+
+
+Who saw the Duke of Clarence ?
+
+I am here , brother , full of heaviness .
+
+How now ! rain within doors , and none abroad !
+How doth the king ?
+
+Exceeding ill .
+
+Heard he the good news yet ?
+Tell it him .
+
+He alter'd much upon the hearing it .
+
+If he be sick with joy , he will recover without physic .
+
+Not so much noise , my lords . Sweet prince , speak low ;
+The king your father is dispos'd to sleep .
+
+Let us withdraw into the other room .
+
+Will't please your Grace to go along with us ?
+
+No ; I will sit and watch here by the king .
+
+Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow ,
+Being so troublesome a bedfellow ?
+O polish'd perturbation ! golden care !
+That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide
+To many a watchful night ! Sleep with it now !
+Yet not so sound , and half so deeply sweet
+As he whose brow with homely biggin bound
+Snores out the watch of night . O majesty !
+When thou dost pinch thy bearer , thou dost sit
+Like a rich armour worn in heat of day ,
+That scalds with safety . By his gates of breath
+There lies a downy feather which stirs not :
+Did he suspire , that light and weightless down
+Perforce must move . My gracious lord ! my father !
+This sleep is sound indeed ; this is a sleep
+That from this golden rigol hath divorc'd
+So many English kings . Thy due from me
+Is tears and heavy sorrows of the blood ,
+Which nature , love , and filial tenderness
+Shall , O dear father ! pay thee plenteously :
+My due from thee is this imperial crown ,
+Which , as immediate from thy place and blood ,
+Derives itself to me . Lo ! here it sits ,
+
+Which heaven shall guard ; and put the world's whole strength
+Into one giant arm , it shall not force
+This lineal honour from me . This from thee
+Will I to mine leave , as 'tis left to me .
+
+
+Warwick ! Gloucester ! Clarence !
+
+
+Doth the king call ?
+
+What would your majesty ? How fares your Grace ?
+
+Why did you leave me here alone , my lords ?
+
+We left the prince my brother here , my liege ,
+Who undertook to sit and watch by you .
+
+The Prince of Wales ! Where is he ? let me see him :
+He is not here .
+
+This door is open ; he is gone this way .
+
+He came not through the chamber where we stay'd .
+
+Where is the crown ? who took it from my pillow ?
+
+When we withdrew , my liege , we left it here .
+
+The prince hath ta'en it hence : go , seek him out .
+Is he so hasty that he doth suppose
+My sleep my death ?
+Find him , my Lord of Warwick ; chide him hither .
+
+This part of his conjoins with my disease ,
+And helps to end me . See , sons , what things you are !
+How quickly nature falls into revolt
+When gold becomes her object !
+For this the foolish over-careful fathers
+Have broke their sleeps with thoughts ,
+Their brains with care , their bones with industry ;
+For this they have engrossed and pil'd up
+The canker'd heaps of strange-achieved gold ;
+For this they have been thoughtful to invest
+Their sons with arts and martial exercises :
+When , like the bee , culling from every flower
+The virtuous sweets ,
+Our thighs packed with wax , our mouths with honey ,
+We bring it to the hive , and like the bees ,
+Are murder'd for our pains . This bitter taste
+Yield his engrossments to the ending father .
+
+
+Now , where is he that will not stay so long
+
+Till his friend sickness hath determin'd me ?
+
+My lord , I found the prince in the next room ,
+Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks ,
+With such a deep demeanour in great sorrow
+That tyranny , which never quaff'd but blood ,
+Would , by beholding him , have wash'd his knife
+With gentle eye-drops . He is coming hither .
+
+But wherefore did he take away the crown ?
+
+
+Lo , where he comes . Come hither to me , Harry .
+Depart the chamber , leave us here alone .
+
+I never thought to hear you speak again .
+
+Thy wish was father , Harry , to that thought :
+I stay too long by thee , I weary thee .
+Dost thou so hunger for my empty chair
+That thou wilt needs invest thee with mine honours
+Before thy hour be ripe ? O foolish youth !
+Thou seek'st the greatness that will overwhelm thee .
+Stay but a little ; for my cloud of dignity
+Is held from falling with so weak a wind
+That it will quickly drop : my day is dim .
+Thou hast stol'n that which after some few hours
+Were thine without offence ; and at my death
+Thou hast seal'd up my expectation :
+Thy life did manifest thou lov'dst me not ,
+And thou wilt have me die assur'd of it .
+Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts ,
+Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart ,
+To stab at half an hour of my life .
+What ! canst thou not forbear me half an hour ?
+Then get thee gone and dig my grave thyself ,
+And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear
+That thou art crowned , not that I am dead .
+Let all the tears that should bedew my hearse
+Be drops of balm to sanctify thy head :
+Only compound me with forgotten dust ;
+Give that which gave thee life unto the worms .
+Pluck down my officers , break my decrees ;
+For now a time is come to mock at form .
+Harry the Fifth is crown'd ! Up , vanity !
+Down , royal state ! all you sage counsellors , hence !
+And to the English court assemble now ,
+From every region , apes of idleness !
+Now , neighbour confines , purge you of your scum :
+Have you a ruffian that will swear , drink , dance ,
+Revel the night , rob , murder , and commit
+The oldest sins the newest kind of ways ?
+Be happy , he will trouble you no more :
+England shall double gild his treble guilt .
+England shall give him office , honour , might ;
+For the fifth Harry from curb'd licence plucks
+The muzzle of restraint , and the wild dog
+Shall flesh his tooth in every innocent .
+O my poor kingdom ! sick with civil blows .
+When that my care could not withhold thy riots ,
+What wilt thou do when riot is thy care ?
+O ! thou wilt be a wilderness again ,
+Peopled with wolves , thy old inhabitants .
+
+O ! pardon me , my liege ; but for my tears ,
+The moist impediments unto my speech ,
+I had forestall'd this dear and deep rebuke
+Ere you with grief had spoke and I had heard
+The course of it so far . There is your crown ;
+And he that wears the crown immortally
+Long guard it yours ! If I affect it more
+Than as your honour and as your renown ,
+Let me no more from this obedience rise ,
+Which my most true and inward duteous spirit
+Teacheth ,this prostrate and exterior bending .
+God witness with me , when I here came in ,
+And found no course of breath within your majesty ,
+How cold it struck my heart ! if I do feign ,
+O ! let me in my present wildness die
+And never live to show the incredulous world
+The noble change that I have purposed .
+Coming to look on you , thinking you dead ,
+And dead almost , my liege , to think you were ,
+I spake unto the crown as having sense ,
+And thus upbraided it : 'The care on thee depending
+Hath fed upon the body of my father ;
+Therefore , thou best of gold art worst of gold :
+Other , less fine in carat , is more precious ,
+Preserving life in medicine potable :
+But thou most fine , most honour'd , most renown'd ,
+Hast eat thy bearer up .' Thus , my most royal liege ,
+Accusing it , I put it on my head ,
+To try with it , as with an enemy
+That had before my face murder'd my father ,
+The quarrel of a true inheritor .
+But if it did infect my blood with joy ,
+Or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride ;
+If any rebel or vain spirit of mine
+Did with the least affection of a welcome
+Give entertainment to the might of it ,
+Let God for ever keep it from my head ,
+And make me as the poorest vassal is
+That doth with awe and terror kneel to it !
+
+O my son !
+God put it in thy mind to take it hence ,
+That thou mightst win the more thy father's love ,
+Pleading so wisely in excuse of it .
+Come hither , Harry : sit thou by my bed ;
+And hear , I think , the very latest counsel
+That ever I shall breathe . God knows , my son ,
+By what by-paths and indirect crook'd ways
+I met this crown ; and I myself know well
+How troublesome it sat upon my head :
+To thee it shall descend with better quiet ,
+Better opinion , better confirmation ;
+For all the soil of the achievement goes
+With me into the earth . It seem'd in me
+But as an honour snatch'd with boisterous hand ,
+And I had many living to upbraid
+My gain of it by their assistances ;
+Which daily grew to quarrel and to bloodshed ,
+Wounding supposed peace . All these bold fears
+Thou seest with peril I have answered ;
+For all my reign hath been but as a scene
+Acting that argument ; and now my death
+Changes the mode : for what in me was purchas'd ,
+Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort ;
+So thou the garment wear'st successively .
+Yet , though thou stand'st more sure than I could do ,
+Thou art not firm enough , since griefs are green ;
+And all my friends , which thou must make thy friends ,
+Have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en out ;
+By whose fell working I was first advanc'd ,
+And by whose power I well might lodge a fear
+To be again displac'd : which to avoid ,
+I cut them off ; and had a purpose now
+To lead out many to the Holy Land ,
+Lest rest and lying still might make them look
+Too near unto my state . Therefore , my Harry ,
+Be it thy course to busy giddy minds
+With foreign quarrels ; that action , hence borne out ,
+May waste the memory of the former days .
+More would I , but my lungs are wasted so
+That strength of speech is utterly denied me .
+How I came by the crown , O God , forgive !
+And grant it may with thee in true peace live .
+
+My gracious liege ,
+You won it , wore it , kept it , gave it me ;
+Then plain and right must my possession be :
+Which I with more than with a common pain
+'Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain .
+
+
+Look , look , here comes my John of Lancaster .
+
+Health , peace , and happiness to my royal father !
+
+Thou bring'st me happiness and peace , son John ;
+But health , alack , with youthful wings is flown
+From this bare wither'd trunk : upon thy sight
+My worldly business makes a period .
+Where is my Lord of Warwick ?
+
+My Lord of Warwick !
+
+
+Doth any name particular belong
+Unto the lodging where I first did swound ?
+
+'Tis call'd Jerusalem , my noble lord .
+
+Laud be to God ! even there my life must end .
+It hath been prophesied to me many years
+I should not die but in Jerusalem ,
+Which vainly I suppos'd the Holy Land .
+But bear me to that chamber ; there I'll lie :
+In that Jerusalem shall Harry die .
+
+By cock and pie , sir , you shall not away to-night . What ! Davy , I say .
+
+You must excuse me , Master Robert Shallow .
+
+I will not excuse you ; you shall not be excused ; excuses shall not be admitted ; there is no excuse shall serve ; you shall not be excused . Why , Davy !
+
+
+Here , sir .
+
+Davy , Davy , Davy , Davy , let me see , Davy ; let me see : yea , marry , William cook , bid him come hither . Sir John , you shall not be excused .
+
+Marry , sir , thus ; those precepts cannot be served : and again , sir , shall we sow the headland with wheat ?
+
+With red wheat , Davy . But for William cook : are there no young pigeons ?
+
+Yes , sir . Here is now the smith's note for shoeing and plough-irons .
+
+Let it be cast and paid . Sir John , you shall not be excused .
+
+Now , sir , a new link to the bucket must needs be had : and , sir , do you mean to stop any of William's wages , about the sack he lost the other day at Hinckley fair ?
+
+A' shall answer it . Some pigeons , Davy , a couple of short-legged hens , a joint of mutton , and any pretty little tiny kickshaws , tell William cook .
+
+Doth the man of war stay all night , sir ?
+
+Yea , Davy . I will use him well . A friend i' the court is better than a penny in purse . Use his men well , Davy , for they are arrant knaves , and will backbite .
+
+No worse than they are back-bitten , sir ; for they have marvellous foul linen .
+
+Well conceited , Davy : about thy business , Davy .
+
+I beseech you , sir , to countenance William Visor of Wincot against Clement Perkes of the hill .
+
+There are many complaints , Davy , against that Visor : that Visor is an arrant knave , on my knowledge .
+
+I grant your worship that he is a knave , sir ; but yet , God forbid , sir , but a knave should have some countenance at his friend's request . An honest man , sir , is able to speak for himself , when a knave is not . I have served your worship truly , sir , this eight years ; and if I cannot once or twice in a quarter bear out a knave against an honest man , I have but a very little credit with your worship . The knave is mine honest friend , sir ; therefore , I beseech your worship , let him be countenanced .
+
+Go to ; I say he shall have no wrong . Look about , Davy .
+
+Where are you , Sir John ? Come , come , come ; off with your boots . Give me your hand , Master Bardolph .
+
+I am glad to see your worship .
+
+I thank thee with all my heart , kind Master Bardolph :
+
+and welcome , my tall fellow . Come , Sir John .
+
+I'll follow you , good Master Robert Shallow .
+
+If I were sawed into quantities , I should make four dozen of such bearded hermit's staves as Master Shallow . It is a wonderful thing to see the semblable coherence of his men's spirits and his : they , by observing him , do bear themselves like foolish justices ; he , by conversing with them , is turned into a justice-like serving-man . Their spirits are so married in conjunction with the participation of society that they flock together in consent , like so many wild-geese . If I had a suit to Master Shallow , I would humour his men with the imputation of being near their master : if to his men , I would curry with Master Shallow that no man could better command his servants . It is certain that either wise bearing or ignorant carriage is caught , as men take diseases , one of another : therefore let men take heed of their company . I will devise matter enough out of this Shallow to keep Prince Harry in continual laughter the wearing out of six fashions ,which is four terms , or two actions ,and a' shall laugh without intervallums . O ! it is much that a lie with a slight oath and a jest with a sad brow will do with a fellow that never had the ache in his shoulders . O ! you shall see him laugh till his face be like a wet cloak ill laid up !
+
+Sir John !
+
+I come , Master Shallow : I come , Master Shallow .
+
+
+How now , my Lord Chief Justice ! whither away ?
+
+How doth the king ?
+
+Exceeding well : his cares are now all ended .
+
+I hope not dead .
+
+He's walk'd the way of nature ;
+And to our purposes he lives no more .
+
+I would his majesty had call'd me with him :
+The service that I truly did his life
+Hath left me open to all injuries .
+
+Indeed I think the young king loves you not .
+
+I know he doth not , and do arm myself ,
+To welcome the condition of the time ;
+Which cannot look more hideously upon me
+Than I have drawn it in my fantasy .
+
+
+Here come the heavy issue of dead Harry :
+O ! that the living Harry had the temper
+Of him , the worst of these three gentlemen .
+How many nobles then should hold their places ,
+That must strike sail to spirits of vile sort !
+
+O God ! I fear all will be overturn'd .
+
+Good morrow , cousin Warwick , good morrow .
+
+Good morrow , cousin .
+
+Good morrow , cousin .
+
+We meet like men that had forgot to speak .
+
+We do remember ; but our argument
+Is all too heavy to admit much talk .
+
+Well , peace be with him that hath made us heavy !
+
+Peace be with us , lest we be heavier !
+
+O ! good my lord , you have lost a friend indeed ;
+And I dare swear you borrow not that face
+Of seeming sorrow ; it is sure your own .
+
+Though no man be assur'd what grace to find ,
+You stand in coldest expectation .
+I am the sorrier ; would 'twere otherwise .
+
+Well , you must now speak Sir John Falstaff fair ,
+Which swims against your stream of quality .
+
+Sweet princes , what I did , I did in honour ,
+Led by the impartial conduct of my soul ;
+And never shall you see that I will beg
+A ragged and forestall'd remission .
+If truth and upright innocency fail me ,
+I'll to the king my master that is dead ,
+And tell him who hath sent me after him .
+
+Here comes the prince .
+
+
+Good morrow , and God save your majesty !
+
+This new and gorgeous garment , majesty ,
+Sits not so easy on me as you think .
+Brothers , you mix your sadness with some fear :
+This is the English , not the Turkish court ;
+Not Amurath an Amurath succeeds ,
+But Harry Harry . Yet be sad , good brothers ,
+For , to speak truth , it very well becomes you :
+Sorrow so royally in you appears
+That I will deeply put the fashion on
+And wear it in my heart . Why then , be sad ;
+But entertain no more of it , good brothers ,
+Than a joint burden laid upon us all .
+For me , by heaven , I bid you be assur'd ,
+I'll be your father and your brother too ;
+Let me but bear your love , I'll bear your cares :
+Yet weep that Harry's dead , and so will I ;
+But Harry lives that shall convert those tears
+By number into hours of happiness .
+
+We hope no other from your majesty .
+
+You all look strangely on me :
+
+and you most ;
+You are , I think , assur'd I love you not .
+
+I am assur'd , if I be measur'd rightly ,
+Your majesty hath no just cause to hate me .
+
+No !
+How might a prince of my great hopes forget
+So great indignities you laid upon me ?
+What ! rate , rebuke , and roughly send to prison
+The immediate heir of England ! Was this easy ?
+May this be wash'd in Lethe , and forgotten ?
+
+I then did use the person of your father ;
+The image of his power lay then in me :
+And , in the administration of his law ,
+Whiles I was busy for the commonwealth ,
+Your highness pleased to forget my place ,
+The majesty and power of law and justice ,
+The image of the king whom I presented ,
+And struck me in my very seat of judgment ;
+Whereon , as an offender to your father ,
+I gave bold way to my authority ,
+And did commit you . If the deed were ill ,
+Be you contented , wearing now the garland ,
+To have a son set your decrees at nought ,
+To pluck down justice from your awful bench ,
+To trip the course of law , and blunt the sword
+That guards the peace and safety of your person :
+Nay , more , to spurn at your most royal image
+And mock your workings in a second body .
+Question your royal thoughts , make the case yours ;
+Be now the father and propose a son ,
+Hear your own dignity so much profan'd ,
+See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted ,
+Behold yourself so by a son disdain'd ;
+And then imagine me taking your part ,
+And in your power soft silencing your son :
+After this cold considerance , sentence me ;
+And , as you are a king , speak in your state
+What I have done that misbecame my place ,
+My person , or my liege's sov'reignty .
+
+You are right , justice ; and you weigh this well ;
+Therefore still bear the balance and the sword :
+And I do wish your honours may increase
+Till you do live to see a son of mine
+Offend you and obey you , as I did .
+So shall I live to speak my father's words :
+'Happy am I , that have a man so bold
+That dares do justice on my proper son ;
+And not less happy , having such a son ,
+That would deliver up his greatness so
+Into the hands of justice .' You did commit me :
+For which , I do commit into your hand
+The unstained sword that you have us'd to bear ;
+With this remembrance , that you use the same
+With the like bold , just , and impartial spirit
+As you have done 'gainst me . There is my hand :
+You shall be as a father to my youth ;
+My voice shall sound as you do prompt mine ear ,
+And I will stoop and humble my intents
+To your well-practis'd wise directions .
+And , princes all , believe me , I beseech you ;
+My father is gone wild into his grave ,
+For in his tomb lie my affections ;
+And with his spirit sadly I survive ,
+To mock the expectation of the world ,
+To frustrate prophecies , and to raze out
+Rotten opinion , who hath writ me down
+After my seeming . The tide of blood in me
+Hath proudly flow'd in vanity till now :
+Now doth it turn and ebb back to the sea ,
+Where it shall mingle with the state of floods
+And flow henceforth in formal majesty .
+Now call we our high court of parliament ;
+And let us choose such limbs of noble counsel ,
+That the great body of our state may go
+In equal rank with the best govern'd nation ;
+That war or peace , or both at once , may be
+As things acquainted and familiar to us ;
+In which you , father , shall have foremost hand .
+Our coronation done , we will accite ,
+As I before remember'd , all our state :
+And , God consigning to my good intents ,
+No prince nor peer shall have just cause to say ,
+God shorten Harry's happy life one day .
+
+
+Nay , you shall see mine orchard , where , in an arbour , we will eat a last year's pippin of my own graffing , with a dish of caraways , and so forth ; come , cousin Silence ; and then to bed .
+
+'Fore God , you have here a goodly dwelling , and a rich .
+
+Barren , barren , barren ; beggars all , beggars all , Sir John : marry , good air . Spread , Davy ; spread , Davy : well said , Davy .
+
+This Davy serves you for good uses ; he is your serving-man and your husband .
+
+A good varlet , a good varlet , a very good varlet , Sir John : by the mass , I have drunk too much sack at supper : a good varlet . Now sit down , now sit down . Come , cousin .
+
+Ah , sirrah ! quoth a' , we shall
+
+Do nothing but eat , and make good cheer ,
+And praise God for the merry year ;
+When flesh is cheap and females dear ,
+And lusty lads roam here and there ,
+So merrily
+And ever among so merrily .
+
+
+There's a merry heart ! Good Master Silence , I'll give you a health for that anon .
+
+Give Master Bardolph some wine , Davy .
+
+Sweet sir , sit ; I'll be with you anon : most sweet sir , sit . Master page , good master page , sit . Proface ! What you want in meat we'll have in drink : but you must bear : the heart's all .
+
+
+Be merry , Master Bardolph ; and my little soldier there , be merry .
+
+
+Be merry , be merry , my wife has all ;
+For women are shrews , both short and tall :
+'Tis merry in hall when beards wag all ,
+And welcome merry Shrove-tide .
+Be merry , be merry .
+
+
+I did not think Master Silence had been a man of this mettle .
+
+Who , I ? I have been merry twice and once ere now .
+
+
+There's a dish of leather-coats for you .
+
+
+Davy !
+
+Your worship ! I'll be with you straight . A cup of wine , sir ?
+
+
+A cup of wine that's brisk and fine
+And drink unto the leman mine ;
+And a merry heart lives long-a .
+
+
+Well said , Master Silence .
+
+And we shall be merry , now comes in the sweet o' the night .
+
+Health and long life to you , Master Silence .
+
+
+Fill the cup , and let it come ;
+I'll pledge you a mile to the bottom .
+
+
+Honest Bardolph , welcome : if thou wantest anything and wilt not call , beshrew thy heart .
+
+Welcome , my little tiny thief ; and welcome indeed too . I'll drink to Master Bardolph and to all the cavaleiroes about London .
+
+I hope to see London once ere I die .
+
+An I might see you there , Davy ,
+
+By the mass , you'll crack a quart together : ha ! will you not , Master Bardolph ?
+
+Yea , sir , in a pottle-pot .
+
+By God's liggens , I thank thee . The knave will stick by thee , I can assure thee that : a' will not out ; he is true bred .
+
+And I'll stick by him , sir .
+
+Why , there spoke a king . Lack nothing : be merry .
+
+Look who's at door there . Ho ! who knocks ?
+
+Why , now you have done me right .
+
+
+Do me right ,
+And dub me knight :
+Samingo
+
+Is't not so ?
+
+'Tis so .
+
+Is't so ? Why , then , say an old man can do somewhat .
+
+
+An't please your worship , there's one Pistol come from the court with news .
+
+From the court ! let him come in .
+
+How now , Pistol !
+
+Sir John , God save you , sir !
+
+What wind blew you hither , Pistol ?
+
+Not the ill wind which blows no man to good .
+Sweet knight , thou art now one of the greatest men in this realm .
+
+By'r lady , I think a' be , but goodman Puff of Barson .
+
+Puff !
+Puff in thy teeth , most recreant coward base !
+Sir John , I am thy Pistol and thy friend ,
+And helter-skelter have I rode to thee ,
+And tidings do I bring and lucky joys
+And golden times and happy news of price .
+
+I prithee now , deliver them like a man of this world .
+
+A foutra for the world and worldlings base !
+I speak of Africa and golden joys .
+
+O base Assyrian knight , what is thy news ?
+Let King Cophetua know the truth thereof .
+
+
+And Robin Hood , Scarlet , and John .
+
+
+Shall dunghill curs confront the Helicons ?
+And shall good news be baffled ?
+Then , Pistol , lay thy head in Furies' lap .
+
+Honest gentleman , I know not your breeding .
+
+Why then , lament therefore .
+
+Give me pardon , sir : if , sir , you come with news from the court , I take it there is but two ways : either to utter them , or to conceal them . I am , sir , under the king , in some authority .
+
+Under which king , Bezonian ? speak , or die .
+
+Under King Harry .
+
+Harry the Fourth ? or Fifth ?
+
+Harry the Fourth .
+
+A foutra for thine office !
+Sir John , thy tender lambkin now is king ;
+Harry the Fifth's the man . I speak the truth :
+When Pistol lies , do this ; and fig me , like
+The bragging Spaniard .
+
+What ! is the old king dead ?
+
+As nail in door : the things I speak are just .
+
+Away , Bardolph ! saddle my horse . Master Robert Shallow , choose what office thou wilt in the land , 'tis thine . Pistol , I will double-charge thee with dignities .
+
+O joyful day !
+I would not take a knighthood for my fortune .
+
+What ! I do bring good news .
+
+Carry Master Silence to bed . Master Shallow , my Lord Shallow , be what thou wilt , I am Fortune's steward . Get on thy boots : we'll ride all night . O sweet Pistol ! Away , Bardolph !
+
+Come , Pistol , utter more to me ; and , withal devise something to do thyself good . Boot , boot , Master Shallow : I know the young king is sick for me . Let us take any man's horses ; the laws of England are at my commandment . Happy are they which have been my friends , and woe unto my lord chief justice !
+
+Let vultures vile seize on his lungs also !
+'Where is the life that late I led ?' say they :
+Why , here it is : welcome these pleasant days !
+
+
+No , thou arrant knave : I would to God I might die that I might have thee hanged ; thou hast drawn my shoulder out of joint .
+
+The constables have delivered her over to me , and she shall have whipping-cheer enough , I warrant her : there hath been a man or two lately killed about her .
+
+Nut-hook , nut-hook , you lie . Come on ; I'll tell thee what , thou damned tripe-visaged rascal , an the child I now go with do miscarry , thou hadst better thou hadst struck thy mother , thou paper-faced villain .
+
+O the Lord ! that Sir John were come ; he would make this a bloody day to somebody . But I pray God the fruit of her womb miscarry !
+
+If it do , you shall have a dozen of cushions again ; you have but eleven now . Come , I charge you both go with me ; for the man is dead that you and Pistol beat among you .
+
+I'll tell thee what , thou thin man in a censer , I will have you as soundly swinged for this , you blue-bottle rogue ! you filthy famished correctioner ! if you be not swinged , I'll forswear half-kirtles .
+
+Come , come , you she knighterrant , come .
+
+O , that right should thus overcome might ! Well , of sufferance comes ease .
+
+Come , you rogue , come : bring me to a justice .
+
+Ay ; come , you starved blood-hound .
+
+Goodman death ! goodman bones !
+
+Thou atomy , thou !
+
+Come , you thin thing ; come , you rascal !
+
+Very well .
+
+
+More rushes , more rushes .
+
+The trumpets have sounded twice .
+
+It will be two o'clock ere they come from the coronation . Dispatch , dispatch .
+
+Stand here by me , Master Robert Shallow ; I will make the king do you grace . I will leer upon him , as a' comes by ; and do but mark the countenance that he will give me .
+
+God bless thy lungs , good knight .
+
+Come here , Pistol ; stand behind me . O ! if I had had time to have made new liveries , I would have bestowed the thousand pound I borrowed of you . But 'tis no matter ; this poor show doth better : this doth infer the zeal I had to see him .
+
+It doth so .
+
+It shows my earnestness of affection .
+
+It doth so .
+
+My devotion .
+
+It doth , it doth , it doth .
+
+As it were , to ride day and night ; and not to deliberate , not to remember , not to have patience to shift me .
+
+It is most certain .
+
+But to stand stained with travel , and sweating with desire to see him ; thinking of nothing else ; putting all affairs else in oblivion , as if there were nothing else to be done but to see him .
+
+'Tis semper idem , for absque hoc nihil est :
+'Tis all in every part .
+
+'Tis so , indeed .
+
+My knight , I will inflame thy noble liver ,
+And make thee rage .
+Thy Doll , and Helen of thy noble thoughts ,
+Is in base durance and contagious prison ;
+Hal'd thither
+By most mechanical and dirty hand :
+Rouse up revenge from ebon den with fell Alecto's snake ,
+For Doll is in : Pistol speaks nought but truth .
+
+I will deliver her .
+
+
+There roar'd the sea , and trumpetclangor sounds .
+
+
+God save thy grace , King Hal ! my royal Hal !
+
+The heavens thee guard and keep , most royal imp of fame !
+
+God save thee , my sweet boy !
+
+My lord chief justice , speak to that vain man .
+
+Have you your wits ? know you what 'tis you speak ?
+
+My king ! my Jove ! I speak to thee , my heart !
+
+I know thee not , old man : fall to thy prayers ;
+How ill white hairs become a fool and jester !
+I have long dream'd of such a kind of man ,
+So surfeit-swell'd , so old , and so profane ;
+But , being awak'd , I do despise my dream .
+Make less thy body hence , and more thy grace ;
+Leave gormandising ; know the grave doth gape
+For thee thrice wider than for other men .
+Reply not to me with a fool-born jest :
+Presume not that I am the thing I was ;
+For God doth know , so shall the world perceive ,
+That I have turn'd away my former self ;
+So will I those that kept me company .
+When thou dost hear I am as I have been ,
+Approach me , and thou shalt be as thou wast ,
+The tutor and the feeder of my riots :
+Till then , I banish thee , on pain of death ,
+As I have done the rest of my misleaders ,
+Not to come near our person by ten mile .
+For competence of life I will allow you ,
+That lack of means enforce you not to evil :
+And , as we hear you do reform yourselves ,
+We will , according to your strength and qualities ,
+Give you advancement . Be it your charge , my lord ,
+To see perform'd the tenour of our word .
+Set on .
+
+
+Master Shallow , I owe you a thousand pound .
+
+Ay , marry , Sir John ; which I beseech you to let me have home with me .
+
+That can hardly be , Master Shallow . Do not you grieve at this : I shall be sent for in private to him . Look you , he must seem thus to the world . Fear not your advancements ; I will be the man yet that shall make you great .
+
+I cannot perceive how , unless you should give me your doublet and stuff me out with straw . I beseech you , good Sir John , let me have five hundred of my thousand .
+
+Sir , I will be as good as my word : this that you heard was but a colour .
+
+A colour that I fear you will die in , Sir John .
+
+Fear no colours : go with me to dinner . Come , Lieutenant Pistol ; come , Bardolph : I shall be sent for soon at night .
+
+
+Go , carry Sir John Falstaff to the Fleet ;
+Take all his company along with him .
+
+My lord , my lord !
+
+I cannot now speak : I will hear you soon .
+Take them away .
+
+Si fortuna me tormenta , spero contenta .
+
+
+I like this fair proceeding of the king's .
+He hath intent his wonted followers
+Shall all be very well provided for ;
+But all are banish'd till their conversations
+Appear more wise and modest to the world .
+
+And so they are .
+
+The king hath call'd his parliament , my lord .
+
+He hath .
+
+I will lay odds , that , ere this year expire ,
+We bear our civil swords and native fire
+As far as France . I heard a bird so sing ,
+Whose music , to my thinking , pleas'd the king .
+Come , will you hence ?
+
+
+First , my fear ; then , my curtsy ; last my speech . My fear is , your displeasure , my curtsy , my duty , and my speech , to beg your pardon . If you look for a good speech now , you undo me ; for what I have to say is of mine own making ; and what indeed I should say will , I doubt , prove mine own marring . But to the purpose , and so to the venture . Be it known to you ,as it is very well ,I was lately here in the end of a displeasing play , to pray your patience for it and to promise you a better . I did mean indeed to pay you with this ; which , if like an ill venture it come unluckily home , I break , and you , my gentle creditors , lose . Here , I promised you I would be , and here I commit my body to your mercies : bate me some and I will pay you some ; and , as most debtors do , promise you infinitely .
+If my tongue cannot entreat you to acquit me , will you command me to use my legs ? and yet that were but light payment , to dance out of your debt . But a good conscience will make any possible satisfaction , and so will I . All the gentlewomen here have forgiven me : if the gentlemen will not , then the gentlemen do not agree with the gentlewomen , which was never seen before in such an assembly .
+One word more , I beseech you . If you be not too much cloyed with fat meat , our humble author will continue the story , with Sir John in it , and make you merry with fair Katharine of France : where , for anything I know , Falstaff shall die of a sweat , unless already a' be killed with your hard opinions ; for Oldcastle died a martyr , and this is not the man . My tongue is weary ; when my legs are too , I will bid you good night : and so kneel down before you ; but , indeed , to pray for the queen .
+
+THE SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI
+
+
+As by your high imperial majesty
+I had in charge at my depart for France ,
+As procurator to your excellence ,
+To marry Princess Margaret for your Grace ;
+So , in the famous ancient city , Tours ,
+In presence of the Kings of France and Sicil ,
+The Dukes of Orleans , Calaber , Britaine , and Alen on ,
+Seven earls , twelve barons , and twenty reverend bishops ,
+I have perform'd my task , and was espous'd :
+And humbly now upon my bended knee ,
+In sight of England and her lordly peers ,
+Deliver up my title in the queen
+To your most gracious hands , that are the substance
+Of that great shadow I did represent ;
+The happiest gift that ever marquess gave ,
+The fairest queen that ever king receiv'd .
+
+Suffolk , arise . Welcome , Queen Margaret :
+I can express no kinder sign of love
+Than this kind kiss . O Lord ! that lends me life ,
+Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness !
+For thou hast given me in this beauteous face
+A world of earthly blessings to my soul ,
+If sympathy of love unite our thoughts .
+
+Great King of England and my gracious lord ,
+The mutual conference that my mind hath had
+By day , by night , waking , and in my dreams ,
+In courtly company , or at my beads ,
+With you , mine alderliefest sovereign ,
+Makes me the bolder to salute my king
+With ruder terms , such as my wit affords ,
+And over-joy of heart doth minister .
+
+Her sight did ravish , but her grace in speech ,
+Her words y-clad with wisdom's majesty ,
+Makes me from wondering fall to weeping joys ;
+Such is the fulness of my heart's content .
+Lords , with one cheerful voice welcome my love .
+
+Long live Queen Margaret , England's happiness !
+
+We thank you all .
+
+
+My Lord Protector , so it please your Grace ,
+Here are the articles of contracted peace
+Between our sovereign and the French King Charles ,
+For eighteen months concluded by consent .
+
+Imprimis , It is agreed between the French king , Charles , and William De la Pole , Marquess of Suffolk , ambassador for Henry King of England , that the said Henry shall espouse the Lady Margaret , daughter unto Reignier King of Naples , Sicilia , and Jerusalem , and crown her Queen of England ere the thirtieth of May next ensuing .
+Item , That the duchy of Anjou and the county of Maine shall be released and delivered to the king her father .
+
+
+Uncle , how now !
+
+Pardon me , gracious lord ;
+Some sudden qualm hath struck me at the heart
+And dimm'd mine eyes , that I can read no further .
+
+Uncle of Winchester , I pray , read on .
+
+Item , It is further agreed between them , that the duchies of Anjou and Maine shall be released and delivered over to the king her father ; and she sent over of the King of England's own proper cost and charges , without having any dowry .
+
+They please us well . Lord marquess , kneel down :
+We here create thee the first Duke of Suffolk ,
+And girt thee with the sword . Cousin of York ,
+We here discharge your Grace from being regent
+I' the parts of France , till term of eighteen months
+Be full expir'd . Thanks , uncle Winchester ,
+Gloucester , York , Buckingham , Somerset ,
+Salisbury , and Warwick ;
+We thank you all for this great favour done ,
+In entertainment to my princely queen .
+Come , let us in , and with all speed provide
+To see her coronation be perform'd .
+
+
+Brave peers of England , pillars of the state ,
+To you Duke Humphrey must unload his grief ,
+Your grief , the common grief of all the land .
+What ! did my brother Henry spend his youth ,
+His valour , coin , and people , in the wars ?
+Did he so often lodge in open field ,
+In winter's cold , and summer's parching heat ,
+To conquer France , his true inheritance ?
+And did my brother Bedford toil his wits ,
+To keep by policy what Henry got ?
+Have you yourselves , Somerset , Buckingham ,
+Brave York , Salisbury , and victorious Warwick ,
+Receiv'd deep scars in France and Normandy ?
+Or hath mine uncle Beaufort and myself ,
+With all the learned council of the realm ,
+Studied so long , sat in the council-house
+Early and late , debating to and fro
+How France and Frenchmen might be kept in awe ?
+And hath his highness in his infancy
+Been crown'd in Paris , in despite of foes ?
+And shall these labours and these honours die ?
+Shall Henry's conquest , Bedford's vigilance ,
+Your deeds of war and all our counsel die ?
+O peers of England ! shameful is this league ,
+Fatal this marriage , cancelling your fame ,
+Blotting your names from books of memory ,
+Razing the characters of your renown ,
+Defacing monuments of conquer'd France ,
+Undoing all , as all had never been .
+
+Nephew , what means this passionate discourse ,
+This peroration with such circumstance ?
+For France , 'tis ours ; and we will keep it still .
+
+Ay , uncle ; we will keep it , if we can ;
+But now it is impossible we should .
+Suffolk , the new-made duke that rules the roast ,
+Hath given the duchies of Anjou and Maine
+Unto the poor King Reignier , whose large style
+Agrees not with the leanness of his purse .
+
+Now , by the death of him who died for all ,
+These counties were the keys of Normandy .
+But wherefore weeps Warwick , my valiant son ?
+
+For grief that they are past recovery :
+For , were there hope to conquer them again ,
+My sword should shed hot blood , mine eyes no tears .
+Anjou and Maine ! myself did win them both ;
+Those provinces these arms of mine did conquer :
+And are the cities , that I got with wounds ,
+Deliver'd up again with peaceful words ?
+Mort Dieu !
+
+For Suffolk's duke , may he be suffocate ,
+That dims the honour of this war-like isle !
+France should have torn and rent my very heart
+Before I would have yielded to this league .
+I never read but England's kings have had
+Large sums of gold and dowries with their wives ;
+And our King Henry gives away his own ,
+To match with her that brings no vantages .
+
+A proper jest , and never heard before ,
+That Suffolk should demand a whole fifteenth
+For costs and charges in transporting her !
+She should have stay'd in France , and starv'd in France ,
+Before
+
+My Lord of Gloucester , now you grow too hot :
+It was the pleasure of my lord the king .
+
+My Lord of Winchester , I know your mind :
+'Tis not my speeches that you do mislike ,
+But 'tis my presence that doth trouble ye .
+Rancour will out : proud prelate , in thy face
+I see thy fury . If I longer stay
+We shall begin our ancient bickerings .
+Lordings , farewell ; and say , when I am gone ,
+I prophesied France will be lost ere long .
+
+
+So , there goes our protector in a rage .
+'Tis known to you he is mine enemy ,
+Nay , more , an enemy unto you all ,
+And no great friend , I fear me , to the king .
+Consider lords , he is the next of blood ,
+And heir apparent to the English crown :
+Had Henry got an empire by his marriage ,
+And all the wealthy kingdoms of the west ,
+There's reason he should be displeas'd at it .
+Look to it , lords ; let not his smoothing words
+Bewitch your hearts ; be wise and circumspect .
+What though the common people favour him ,
+Calling him , 'Humphrey , the good Duke of Gloucester ;'
+Clapping their hands , and crying with loud voice ,
+'Jesu maintain your royal excellence !'
+With 'God preserve the good Duke Humphrey !'
+I fear me , lords , for all this flattering gloss ,
+He will be found a dangerous protector .
+
+Why should he then protect our sovereign ,
+He being of age to govern of himself ?
+Cousin of Somerset , join you with me ,
+And all together , with the Duke of Suffolk ,
+We'll quickly hoise Duke Humphrey from his seat .
+
+This weighty business will not brook delay ;
+I'll to the Duke of Suffolk presently .
+
+
+Cousin of Buckingham , though Humphrey's pride
+And greatness of his place be grief to us ,
+Yet let us watch the haughty cardinal :
+His insolence is more intolerable
+Than all the princes in the land beside :
+If Gloucester be displac'd , he'll be protector .
+
+Or thou , or I , Somerset , will be protector ,
+Despite Duke Humphrey or the cardinal .
+
+
+Pride went before , ambition follows him .
+While these do labour for their own preferment ,
+Behoves it us to labour for the realm .
+I never saw but Humphrey , Duke of Gloucester ,
+Did bear him like a noble gentleman .
+Oft have I seen the haughty cardinal
+More like a soldier than a man o' the church ,
+As stout and proud as he were lord of all ,
+Swear like a ruffian and demean himself
+Unlike the ruler of a commonweal .
+Warwick , my son , the comfort of my age ,
+Thy deeds , thy plainness , and thy house-keeping ,
+Have won the greatest favour of the commons ,
+Excepting none but good Duke Humphrey :
+And , brother York , thy acts in Ireland ,
+In bringing them to civil discipline ,
+Thy late exploits done in the heart of France ,
+When thou wert regent for our sovereign ,
+Have made thee fear'd and honour'd of the people .
+Join we together for the public good ,
+In what we can to bridle and suppress
+The pride of Suffolk and the cardinal ,
+With Somerset's and Buckingham's ambition ;
+And , as we may , cherish Duke Humphrey's deeds ,
+While they do tend the profit of the land .
+
+So God help Warwick , as he loves the land ,
+And common profit of his country !
+
+And so says York , for he hath greatest cause .
+
+Then let's make haste away , and look unto the main .
+
+Unto the main ! O father , Maine is lost !
+That Maine which by main force Warwick did win ,
+And would have kept so long as breath did last :
+Main chance , father , you meant ; but I meant Maine ,
+Which I will win from France , or else be slain .
+
+
+Anjou and Maine are given to the French ;
+Paris is lost ; the state of Normandy
+Stands on a tickle point now they are gone .
+Suffolk concluded on the articles ,
+The peers agreed , and Henry was well pleas'd
+To change two dukedoms for a duke's fair daughter .
+I cannot blame them all : what is't to them ?
+'Tis thine they give away , and not their own .
+Pirates may make cheap pennyworths of their pillage ,
+And purchase friends , and give to courtezans ,
+Still revelling like lords till all be gone ;
+While as the silly owner of the goods
+Weeps over them , and wrings his hapless hands ,
+And shakes his head , and trembling stands aloof ,
+While all is shar'd and all is borne away ,
+Ready to starve and dare not touch his own :
+So York must sit and fret and bite his tongue
+While his own lands are bargain'd for and sold .
+Methinks the realms of England , France , and Ireland
+Bear that proportion to my flesh and blood
+As did the fatal brand Alth a burn'd
+Unto the prince's heart of Calydon .
+Anjou and Maine both given unto the French !
+Cold news for me , for I had hope of France ,
+Even as I have of fertile England's soil .
+A day will come when York shall claim his own ;
+And therefore I will take the Nevils' parts
+And make a show of love to proud Duke Humphrey ,
+And , when I spy advantage , claim the crown ,
+For that's the golden mark I seek to hit .
+Nor shall proud Lancaster usurp my right .
+Nor hold the sceptre in his childish fist ,
+Nor wear the diadem upon his head ,
+Whose church-like humours fit not for a crown .
+Then , York , be still awhile , till time do serve :
+Watch thou and wake when others be asleep ,
+To pry into the secrets of the state ;
+Till Henry , surfeiting in joys of love ,
+With his new bride and England's dear-bought queen ,
+And Humphrey with the peers be fall'n at jars :
+Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose ,
+With whose sweet smell the air shall be perfum'd ,
+And in my standard bear the arms of York ,
+To grapple with the house of Lancaster ;
+And , force perforce , I'll make him yield the crown ,
+Whose bookish rule hath pull'd fair England down .
+
+
+Why droops my lord , like over-ripen'd corn
+Hanging the head at Ceres' plenteous load ?
+Why doth the great Duke Humphrey knit his brows ,
+As frowning at the favours of the world ?
+Why are thine eyes fix'd to the sullen earth ,
+Gazing on that which seems to dim thy sight ?
+What seest thou there ? King Henry's diadem
+Enchas'd with all the honours of the world ?
+If so , gaze on , and grovel on thy face ,
+Until thy head be circled with the same .
+Put forth thy hand , reach at the glorious gold :
+What ! is't too short ? I'll lengthen it with mine ;
+And having both together heav'd it up ,
+We'll both together lift our heads to heaven ,
+And never more abase our sight so low
+As to vouchsafe one glance unto the ground .
+
+O Nell , sweet Nell , if thou dost love thy lord ,
+Banish the canker of ambitious thoughts :
+And may that thought , when I imagine ill
+Against my king and nephew , virtuous Henry ,
+Be my last breathing in this mortal world !
+My troublous dream this night doth make me sad .
+
+What dream'd my lord ? tell me , and I'll requite it
+With sweet rehearsal of my morning's dream .
+
+Methought this staff , mine office-badge in court ,
+Was broke in twain ; by whom I have forgot ,
+But , as I think , it was by the cardinal ;
+And on the pieces of the broken wand
+Were plac'd the heads of Edmund Duke of Somerset ,
+And William De la Pole , first Duke of Suffolk .
+This was my dream : what it doth bode , God knows .
+
+Tut ! this was nothing but an argument
+That he that breaks a stick of Gloucester's grove
+Shall lose his head for his presumption .
+But list to me , my Humphrey , my sweet duke :
+Methought I sat in seat of majesty
+In the cathedral church of Westminster ,
+And in that chair where kings and queens are crown'd ;
+Where Henry and Dame Margaret kneel'd to me ,
+And on my head did set the diadem .
+
+Nay , Eleanor , then must I chide outright :
+Presumptuous dame ! ill-nurtur'd Eleanor !
+Art thou not second woman in the realm ,
+And the protector's wife , belov'd of him ?
+Hast thou not worldly pleasure at command ,
+Above the reach or compass of thy thought ?
+And wilt thou still be hammering treachery ,
+To tumble down thy husband and thyself
+From top of honour to disgrace's feet ?
+Away from me , and let me hear no more .
+
+What , what , my lord ! are you so choleric
+With Eleanor , for telling but her dream ?
+Next time I'll keep my dreams unto myself ,
+And not be check'd .
+
+Nay , be not angry ; I am pleas'd again .
+
+
+My Lord Protector , 'tis his highness' pleasure
+You do prepare to ride unto Saint Alban's ,
+Whereas the king and queen do mean to hawk .
+
+I go . Come , Nell , thou wilt ride with us ?
+
+Yes , my good lord , I'll follow presently .
+
+Follow I must ; I cannot go before ,
+While Gloucester bears this base and humble mind .
+Were I a man , a duke , and next of blood ,
+I would remove these tedious stumbling-blocks
+And smooth my way upon their headless necks ;
+And , being a woman , I will not be slack
+To play my part in Fortune's pageant .
+Where are you there ? Sir John ! nay , fear not , man ,
+We are alone ; here's none but thee and I .
+
+
+Jesus preserve your royal majesty !
+
+What sayst thou ? majesty ! I am but Grace .
+
+But , by the grace of God , and Hume's advice ,
+Your Grace's title shall be multiplied .
+
+What sayst thou , man ? hast thou as yet conferr'd
+With Margery Jourdain , the cunning witch ,
+With Roger Bolingbroke , the conjurer ?
+And will they undertake to do me good ?
+
+This they have promised , to show your highness
+A spirit rais'd from depth of under ground ,
+That shall make answer to such questions
+As by your Grace shall be propounded him .
+
+It is enough : I'll think upon the questions .
+When from Saint Alban's we do make return
+We'll see these things effected to the full .
+Here , Hume , take this reward ; make merry , man ,
+With thy confed'rates in this weighty cause .
+
+
+Hume must make merry with the duchess' gold ;
+Marry and shall . But how now , Sir John Hume !
+Seal up your lips , and give no words but mum :
+The business asketh silent secrecy .
+Dame Eleanor gives gold to bring the witch :
+Gold cannot come amiss , were she a devil .
+Yet have I gold flies from another coast :
+I dare not say from the rich cardinal
+And from the great and new-made Duke of Suffolk ;
+Yet I do find it so : for , to be plain ,
+They , knowing Dame Eleanor's aspiring humour ,
+Have hired me to undermine the duchess
+And buzz these conjurations in her brain .
+They say , 'A crafty knave does need no broker ;'
+Yet am I Suffolk and the cardinal's broker .
+Hume , if you take not heed , you shall go near
+To call them both a pair of crafty knaves .
+Well , so it stands ; and thus , I fear , at last
+Hume's knavery will be the duchess' wrack ,
+And her attainture will be Humphrey's fall .
+Sort how it will I shall have gold for all .
+
+
+My masters , let's stand close : my Lord Protector will come this way by and by , and then we may deliver our supplications in the quill .
+
+Marry , the Lord protect him , for he's a good man ! Jesu bless him !
+
+
+Here a' comes , methinks , and the queen with him . I'll be the first , sure .
+
+Come back , fool ! this is the Duke of Suffolk and not my Lord Protector .
+
+How now , fellow ! wouldst anything with me ?
+
+I pray , my lord , pardon me : I took ye for my Lord Protector .
+
+To my Lord Protector ! are your supplications to his lordship ? Let me see them : what is thine ?
+
+Mine is , an't please your Grace , against John Goodman , my Lord Cardinal's man , for keeping my house , and lands , my wife and all , from me .
+
+Thy wife too ! that is some wrong indeed . What's yours ? What's here ? Against the Duke of Suffolk , for enclosing the commons of Melford ! How now , sir knave !
+
+Alas ! sir , I am but a poor petitioner of our whole township .
+
+Against my master , Thomas Horner , for saying that the Duke of York was rightful heir to the crown .
+
+What sayst thou ? Did the Duke of York say he was rightful heir to the crown ?
+
+That my master was ? No , forsooth : my master said that he was ; and that the king was an usurper .
+
+Who is there ?
+
+
+Take this fellow in , and send for his master with a pursuivant presently . We'll hear more of your matter before the king .
+
+And as for you , that love to be protected
+Under the wings of our protector's grace ,
+Begin your suits anew and sue to him .
+
+Away , base cullions ! Suffolk , let them go .
+
+Come , let's be gone .
+
+
+My Lord of Suffolk , say , is this the guise ,
+Is this the fashion of the court of England ?
+Is this the government of Britain's isle ,
+And this the royalty of Albion's king ?
+What ! shall King Henry be a pupil still
+Under the surly Gloucester's governance ?
+Am I a queen in title and in style ,
+And must be made a subject to a duke ?
+I tell thee , Pole , when in the city Tours
+Thou ran'st a tilt in honour of my love ,
+And stol'st away the ladies' hearts of France ,
+I thought King Henry had resembled thee
+In courage , courtship , and proportion :
+But all his mind is bent to holiness ,
+To number Ave-Maries on his beads ;
+His champions are the prophets and apostles ;
+His weapons holy saws of sacred writ ;
+His study is his tilt-yard , and his loves
+Are brazen images of canoniz'd saints .
+I would the college of the cardinals
+Would choose him pope , and carry him to Rome ,
+And set the triple crown upon his head :
+That were a state fit for his holiness .
+
+Madam , be patient ; as I was cause
+Your highness came to England , so will I
+In England work your Grace's full content .
+
+Beside the haught protector , have we Beaufort
+The imperious churchman , Somerset , Buckingham ,
+And grumbling York ; and not the least of these
+But can do more in England than the king .
+
+And he of these that can do most of all
+Cannot do more in England than the Nevils :
+Salisbury and Warwick are no simple peers .
+
+Not all these lords do vex me half so much
+As that proud dame , the Lord Protector's wife :
+She sweeps it through the court with troops of ladies ,
+More like an empress than Duke Humphrey's wife .
+Strangers in court do take her for the queen :
+She bears a duke's revenues on her back ,
+And in her heart she scorns our poverty .
+Shall I not live to be aveng'd on her ?
+Contemptuous base-born callot as she is ,
+She vaunted 'mongst her minions t'other day
+The very train of her worst wearing gown
+Was better worth than all my father's lands ,
+Till Suffolk gave two dukedoms for his daughter .
+
+Madam , myself have lim'd a bush for her ,
+And plac'd a quire of such enticing birds
+That she will light to listen to the lays ,
+And never mount to trouble you again .
+So , let her rest : and , madam , list to me ;
+For I am bold to counsel you in this .
+Although we fancy not the cardinal ,
+Yet must we join with him and with the lords
+Till we have brought Duke Humphrey in disgrace .
+As for the Duke of York , this late complaint
+Will make but little for his benefit :
+So , one by one , we'll weed them all at last ,
+And you yourself shall steer the happy helm .
+
+For my part , noble lords , I care not which ;
+Or Somerset or York , all's one to me .
+
+If York have ill demean'd himself in France ,
+Then let him be denay'd the regentship .
+
+If Somerset be unworthy of the place ,
+Let York be regent ; I will yield to him .
+
+Whether your Grace be worthy , yea or no ,
+Dispute not that : York is the worthier .
+
+Ambitious Warwick , let thy betters speak .
+
+The cardinal's not my better in the field .
+
+All in this presence are thy betters , Warwick .
+
+Warwick may live to be the best of all .
+
+Peace , son ! and show some reason , Buckingham ,
+Why Somerset should be preferr'd in this .
+
+Because the king , forsooth , will have it so .
+
+Madam , the king is old enough himself
+To give his censure : these are no women's matters .
+
+If he be old enough , what needs your Grace
+To be protector of his excellence ?
+
+Madam , I am protector of the realm ;
+And at his pleasure will resign my place .
+
+Resign it then and leave thine insolence .
+Since thou wertking ,as who is king but thou ?
+The commonwealth hath daily run to wrack ;
+The Dauphin hath prevail'd beyond the seas ;
+And all the peers and nobles of the realm
+Have been as bondmen to thy sovereignty .
+
+The commons hast thou rack'd ; the clergy's bags
+Are lank and lean with thy extortions .
+
+Thy sumptuous buildings and thy wife's attire
+Have cost a mass of public treasury .
+
+Thy cruelty in execution
+Upon offenders hath exceeded law ,
+And left thee to the mercy of the law .
+
+Thy sale of offices and towns in France ,
+If they were known , as the suspect is great ,
+Would make thee quickly hop without thy head .
+
+Give me my fan : what , minion ! can ye not ?
+
+I cry you mercy , madam , was it you ?
+
+Was't I ? yea , I it was , proud Frenchwoman :
+Could I come near your beauty with my nails
+I'd set my ten commandments in your face .
+
+Sweet aunt , be quiet ; 'twas against her will .
+
+Against her will ! Good king , look to't in time ;
+She'll hamper thee and dandle thee like a baby :
+Though in this place most master wear no breeches ,
+She shall not strike Dame Eleanor unreveng'd .
+
+
+Lord Cardinal , I will follow Eleanor ,
+And listen after Humphrey , how he proceeds :
+She's tickled now ; her fume can need no spurs ,
+She'll gallop far enough to her destruction .
+
+Now , lords , my choler being over-blown
+With walking once about the quadrangle ,
+I come to talk of commonwealth affairs .
+As for your spiteful false objections ,
+Prove them , and I lie open to the law :
+But God in mercy so deal with my soul
+As I in duty love my king and country !
+But to the matter that we have in hand .
+I say , my sov'reign , York is meetest man
+To be your regent in the realm of France .
+
+Before we make election , give me leave
+To show some reason , of no little force ,
+That York is most unmeet of any man .
+
+I'll tell thee , Suffolk , why I am unmeet :
+First , for I cannot flatter thee in pride ;
+Next , if I be appointed for the place ,
+My Lord of Somerset will keep me here ,
+Without discharge , money , or furniture ,
+Till France be won into the Dauphin's hands .
+Last time I danc'd attendance on his will
+Till Paris was besieg'd , famish'd , and lost .
+
+That can I witness ; and a fouler fact
+Did never traitor in the land commit .
+
+Peace , headstrong Warwick !
+
+Image of pride , why should I hold my peace ?
+
+
+Because here is a man accus'd of treason :
+Pray God the Duke of York excuse himself !
+
+Doth any one accuse York for a traitor ?
+
+What mean'st thou , Suffolk ? tell me , what are these ?
+
+Please it your majesty , this is the man
+That doth accuse his master of high treason .
+His words were these : that Richard , Duke of York ,
+Was rightful heir unto the English crown ,
+And that your majesty was a usurper .
+
+Say , man , were these thy words ?
+
+An't shall please your majesty , I never said nor thought any such matter : God is my witness , I am falsely accused by the villain .
+
+By these ten bones , my lords , he did speak them to me in the garret one night , as we were scouring my Lord of York's armour .
+
+Base dunghill villain , and mechanical ,
+I'll have thy head for this thy traitor's speech .
+I do beseech your royal majesty
+Let him have all the rigour of the law .
+
+Alas ! my lord , hang me if ever I spake the words . My accuser is my prentice ; and when I did correct him for his fault the other day , he did vow upon his knees he would be even with me : I have good witness of this : therefore I beseech your majesty , do not cast away an honest man for a villain's accusation .
+
+Uncle , what shall we say to this in law ?
+
+This doom , my lord , if I may judge .
+Let Somerset be regent o'er the French ,
+Because in York this breeds suspicion ;
+And let these have a day appointed them
+For single combat in convenient place ;
+For he hath witness of his servant's malice .
+This is the law , and this Duke Humphrey's doom .
+
+Then be it so . My Lord of Somerset ,
+We make your Grace lord regent o'er the French .
+
+I humbly thank your royal majesty .
+
+And I accept the combat willingly .
+
+Alas ! my lord , I cannot fight : for God's sake , pity my case ! the spite of man prevaileth against me . O Lord , have mercy upon me ! I shall never be able to fight a blow . O Lord , my heart !
+
+Sirrah , or you must fight , or else be hang'd .
+
+Away with them to prison ; and the day
+Of combat shall be the last of the next month .
+Come , Somerset , we'll see thee sent away .
+
+
+Come , my masters ; the duchess , I tell you , expects performance of your promises .
+
+Master Hume , we are therefore provided . Will her ladyship behold and hear our exorcisms ?
+
+Ay ; what else ? fear you not her courage .
+
+I have heard her reported to be a woman of invincible spirit : but it shall be convenient , Master Hume , that you be by her aloft while we be busy below ; and so , I pray you , go in God's name , and leave us .
+
+Mother Jourdain , be you prostrate , and grovel on the earth ; John Southwell , read you ; and let us to our work .
+
+
+Well said , my masters , and welcome all .
+To this gear the sooner the better .
+
+Patience , good lady ; wizards know their times :
+Deep night , dark night , the silent of the night ,
+The time of night when Troy was set on fire ;
+The time when screech-owls cry , and ban-dogs howl ,
+And spirits walk , and ghosts break up their graves ,
+That time best fits the work we have in hand .
+Madam , sit you , and fear not : whom we raise
+We will make fast within a hallow'd verge .
+
+
+Adsum .
+
+Asmath !
+By the eternal God , whose name and power
+Thou tremblest at , answer that I shall ask ;
+For till thou speak , thou shalt not pass from hence .
+
+Ask what thou wilt . That I had said and done !
+
+First , of the king : what shall of him become ?
+
+The Duke yet lives that Henry shall depose ;
+But him outlive , and die a violent death .
+
+
+What fate awaits the Duke of Suffolk ?
+
+By water shall he die and take his end .
+
+What shall befall the Duke of Somerset ?
+
+Let him shun castles :
+Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains
+Than where castles mounted stand .
+Have done , for more I hardly can endure .
+
+Descend to darkness and the burning lake !
+False fiend , avoid !
+
+Lay hands upon these traitors and their trash .
+Beldam , I think we watch'd you at an inch .
+What ! madam , are you there ? the king and commonweal
+Are deeply indebted for this piece of pains :
+My Lord Protector will , I doubt it not ,
+See you well guerdon'd for these good deserts .
+
+Not half so bad as thine to England's king ,
+Injurious duke , that threat'st where is no cause .
+
+True , madam , none at all . What call you this ?
+
+Away with them ! let them be clapp'd up close
+And kept asunder . You , madam , shall with us :
+Stafford , take her to thee .
+
+We'll see your trinkets here all forthcoming .
+All , away !
+
+
+Lord Buckingham , methinks you watch'd her well :
+A pretty plot , well chosen to build upon !
+Now , pray , my lord , let's see the devil's writ .
+What have we here ?
+The duke yet lives that Henry shall depose ;
+But him outlive , and die a violent death .
+Why , this is just ,
+Aio te , acida , Romanos vincere posse .
+Well , to the rest :
+Tell me what fate awaits the Duke of Suffolk ?
+By water shall he die and take his end .
+What shall betide the Duke of Somerset ?
+Let him shun castles :
+Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains
+Than where castles mounted stand .
+Come , come , my lords ; these oracles
+Are hardly attain'd , and hardly understood .
+The king is now in progress towards Saint Alban's ;
+With him , the husband of this lovely lady :
+Thither go these news as fast as horse can carry them ,
+A sorry breakfast for my Lord Protector .
+
+Your Grace shall give me leave , my Lord of York ,
+To be the post , in hope of his reward .
+
+At your pleasure , my good lord . Who's within there , ho !
+
+
+Invite my Lords of Salisbury and Warwick
+To sup with me to-morrow night . Away !
+
+
+Believe me , lords , for flying at the brook ,
+I saw not better sport these seven years' day :
+Yet , by your leave , the wind was very high ,
+And , ten to one , old Joan had not gone out .
+
+But what a point , my lord , your falcon made ,
+And what a pitch she flew above the rest !
+To see how God in all his creatures works !
+Yea , man and birds are fain of climbing high .
+
+No marvel , an it like your majesty ,
+My Lord Protector's hawks do tower so well ;
+They know their master loves to be aloft ,
+And bears his thoughts above his falcon's pitch .
+
+My lord , 'tis but a base ignoble mind
+That mounts no higher than a bird can soar .
+
+I thought as much ; he'd be above the clouds .
+
+Ay , my Lord Cardinal ; how think you by that ?
+Were it not good your Grace could fly to heaven ?
+
+The treasury of everlasting joy .
+
+Thy heaven is on earth ; thine eyes and thoughts
+Beat on a crown , the treasure of thy heart ;
+Pernicious protector , dangerous peer ,
+That smooth'st it so with king and commonweal !
+
+What ! cardinal , is your priesthood grown peremptory ?
+Tant ne animis c lestibus ir ?
+Churchmen so hot ? good uncle , hide such malice ;
+With such holiness can you do it ?
+
+No malice , sir ; no more than well becomes
+So good a quarrel and so bad a peer .
+
+As who , my lord ?
+
+Why , as you , my lord ,
+An't like your lordly lord-protectorship .
+
+Why , Suffolk , England knows thine insolence .
+
+And thy ambition , Gloucester .
+
+I prithee , peace ,
+Good queen , and whet not on these furious peers ;
+For blessed are the peacemakers on earth .
+
+Let me be blessed for the peace I make
+Against this proud protector with my sword !
+
+Faith , holy uncle , would 'twere come to that !
+
+Marry , when thou dar'st .
+
+Make up no factious numbers for the matter ;
+In thine own person answer thy abuse .
+
+Ay , where thou dar'st not peep : an if thou dar'st ,
+This evening on the east side of the grove .
+
+How now , my lords !
+
+Believe me , cousin Gloucester ,
+Had not your man put up the fowl so suddenly ,
+We had had more sport .
+
+Come with thy two-hand sword .
+
+True , uncle .
+
+Are you advis'd ?
+
+the east side of the grove .
+
+Cardinal , I am with you .
+
+Why , how now , uncle Gloucester !
+
+Talking of hawking ; nothing else , my lord .
+
+
+Now , by God's mother , priest , I'll shave your crown
+For this , or all my fence shall fail .
+
+Medice teipsum ;
+Protector , see to't well , protect yourself .
+
+The winds grow high ; so do your stomachs , lords .
+How irksome is this music to my heart !
+When such strings jar , what hope of harmony ?
+I pray , my lords , let me compound this strife .
+
+
+What means this noise ?
+Fellow , what miracle dost thou proclaim ?
+
+A miracle ! a miracle !
+
+Come to the king , and tell him what miracle .
+
+Forsooth , a blind man at Saint Alban's shrine ,
+Within this half hour hath receiv'd his sight ;
+A man that ne'er saw in his life before .
+
+Now , God be prais'd , that to believing souls
+Gives light in darkness , comfort in despair !
+
+Here comes the townsmen on procession ,
+To present your highness with the man .
+
+Great is his comfort in this earthly vale ,
+Although by his sight his sin be multiplied .
+
+Stand by , my masters ; bring him near the king :
+His highness' pleasure is to talk with him .
+
+Good fellow , tell us here the circumstance ,
+That we for thee may glorify the Lord .
+What ! hast thou been long blind , and now restor'd ?
+
+Born blind , an't please your Grace .
+
+Ay , indeed , was he .
+
+What woman is this ?
+
+His wife , an't like your worship .
+
+Hadst thou been his mother , thou couldst have better told .
+
+Where wert thou born ?
+
+At Berwick in the north , an't like your Grace .
+
+Poor soul ! God's goodness hath been great to thee :
+Let never day nor night unhallow'd pass ,
+But still remember what the Lord hath done .
+
+Tell me , good fellow , cam'st thou here by chance ,
+Or of devotion , to this holy shrine ?
+
+God knows , of pure devotion ; being call'd
+A hundred times and oft'ner in my sleep ,
+By good Saint Alban ; who said , 'Simpcox , come ;
+Come , offer at my shrine , and I will help thee .'
+
+Most true , forsooth ; and many time and oft
+Myself have heard a voice to call him so .
+
+What ! art thou lame ?
+
+Ay , God Almighty help me !
+
+How cam'st thou so ?
+
+A fall off of a tree .
+
+A plum-tree , master .
+
+How long hast thou been blind ?
+
+O ! born so , master .
+
+What ! and wouldst climb a tree ?
+
+But that in all my life , when I was a youth .
+
+Too true ; and bought his climbing very dear .
+
+Mass , thou lov'dst plums well , that wouldst venture so .
+
+Alas ! master , my wife desir'd some damsons ,
+And made me climb with danger of my life .
+
+A subtle knave ! but yet it shall not serve .
+Let me see thine eyes : wink now : now open them :
+In my opinion yet thou seest not well .
+
+Yes , master , clear as day ; I thank God and Saint Alban .
+
+Sayst thou me so ? What colour is this cloak of ?
+
+Red , master ; red as blood .
+
+Why , that's well said . What colour is my gown of ?
+
+Black , forsooth ; coal-black , as jet .
+
+Why then , thou know'st what colour jet is of ?
+
+And yet , I think , jet did he never see .
+
+But cloaks and gowns before this day a many .
+
+Never , before this day , in all his life .
+
+Tell me , sirrah , what's my name ?
+
+Alas ! master , I know not .
+
+What's his name ?
+
+I know not .
+
+Nor his ?
+
+No , indeed , master .
+
+What's thine own name ?
+
+Saunder Simpcox , an if it please you , master .
+
+Then , Saunder , sit there , the lyingest knave in Christendom . If thou hadst been born blind , thou mightst as well have known all our names as thus to name the several colours we do wear . Sight may distinguish of colours , but suddenly to nominate them all , it is impossible . My lords , Saint Alban here hath done a miracle ; and would ye not think that cunning to be great , that could restore this cripple to his legs again ?
+
+O , master , that you could !
+
+My masters of Saint Alban's , have you not beadles in your town , and things called whips ?
+
+Yes , my lord , if it please your Grace .
+
+Then send for one presently .
+
+Sirrah , go fetch the beadle hither straight .
+
+
+Now fetch me a stool hither by and by .
+
+
+Now , sirrah , if you mean to save yourself from whipping , leap me over this stool and run away .
+
+Alas ! master , I am not able to stand alone :
+You go about to torture me in vain .
+
+
+Well , sir , we must have you find your legs . Sirrah beadle , whip him till he leap over that same stool .
+
+I will , my lord . Come on , sirrah ; off with your doublet quickly .
+
+Alas ! master , what shall I do ? I am not able to stand .
+
+O God ! seest thou this , and bear'st so long ?
+
+It made me laugh to see the villain run .
+
+Follow the knave ; and take this drab away .
+
+Alas ! sir , we did it for pure need .
+
+Let them be whipp'd through every market town
+Till they come to Berwick , from whence they came .
+
+
+Duke Humphrey has done a miracle to-day .
+
+True ; made the lame to leap and fly away .
+
+But you have done more miracles than I ;
+You made in a day , my lord , whole towns to fly .
+
+
+What tidings with our cousin Buckingham ?
+
+Such as my heart doth tremble to unfold .
+A sort of naughty persons , lewdly bent ,
+Under the countenance and confederacy
+Of Lady Eleanor , the protector's wife ,
+The ringleader and head of all this rout ,
+Have practis'd dangerously against your state ,
+Dealing with witches and with conjurers :
+Whom we have apprehended in the fact ;
+Raising up wicked spirits from under-ground ,
+Demanding of King Henry's life and death ,
+And other of your highness' privy council ,
+As more at large your Grace shall understand .
+
+And so , my Lord Protector , by this means
+Your lady is forthcoming yet at London .
+This news , I think , hath turn'd your weapon's edge ;
+'Tis like , my lord , you will not keep your hour .
+
+Ambitious churchman , leave to afflict my heart :
+Sorrow and grief have vanquish'd all my powers ;
+And , vanquish'd as I am , I yield to thee ,
+Or to the meanest groom .
+
+O God ! what mischiefs work the wicked ones ,
+Heaping confusion on their own heads thereby .
+
+Gloucester , see here the tainture of thy nest ;
+And look thyself be faultless , thou wert best .
+
+Madam , for myself , to heaven I do appeal ,
+How I have lov'd my king and commonweal ;
+And , for my wife , I know not how it stands .
+Sorry I am to hear what I have heard :
+Noble she is , but if she have forgot
+Honour and virtue , and convers'd with such
+As , like to pitch , defile nobility ,
+I banish her my bed and company ,
+And give her , as a prey , to law and shame ,
+That hath dishonour'd Gloucester's honest name .
+
+Well , for this night we will repose us here :
+To-morrow toward London back again ,
+To look into this business thoroughly ,
+And call these foul offenders to their answers ;
+And poise the cause in justice' equal scales ,
+Whose beam stands sure , whose rightful cause prevails .
+
+
+Now , my good Lords of Salisbury and Warwick ,
+Our simple supper ended , give me leave ,
+In this close walk to satisfy myself ,
+In craving your opinion of my title ,
+Which is infallible to England's crown .
+
+My lord , I long to hear it at full .
+
+Sweet York , begin ; and if thy claim be good ,
+The Nevils are thy subjects to command .
+
+Then thus :
+Edward the Third , my lords , had seven sons :
+The first , Edward the Black Prince , Prince of Wales ;
+The second , William of Hatfield ; and the third ,
+Lionel , Duke of Clarence ; next to whom
+Was John of Gaunt , the Duke of Lancaster ;
+The fifth was Edmund Langley , Duke of York ;
+The sixth was Thomas of Woodstock , Duke of Gloucester ;
+William of Windsor was the seventh and last .
+Edward the Black Prince died before his father ,
+And left behind him Richard , his only son ,
+Who after Edward the Third's death , reign'd as king ;
+Till Henry Bolingbroke , Duke of Lancaster ,
+The eldest son and heir of John of Gaunt ,
+Crown'd by the name of Henry the Fourth ,
+Seiz'd on the realm , depos'd the rightful king ,
+Sent his poor queen to France , from whence she came ,
+And him to Pomfret ; where as all you know ,
+Harmless Richard was murder'd traitorously .
+
+Father , the duke hath told the truth ;
+Thus got the house of Lancaster the crown .
+
+Which now they hold by force and not by right ;
+For Richard , the first son's heir , being dead ,
+The issue of the next son should have reign'd .
+
+But William of Hatfield died without an heir .
+
+The third son , Duke of Clarence , from whose line
+I claim the crown , had issue , Philippe a daughter ,
+Who married Edmund Mortimer , Earl of March :
+Edmund had issue Roger , Earl of March :
+Roger had issue Edmund , Anne , and Eleanor .
+
+This Edmund , in the reign of Bolingbroke ,
+As I have read , laid claim unto the crown ;
+And but for Owen Glendower , had been king ,
+Who kept him in captivity till he died .
+But , to the rest .
+
+His eldest sister , Anne ,
+My mother , being heir unto the crown ,
+Married Richard , Earl of Cambridge , who was son
+To Edmund Langley , Edward the Third's fifth son .
+By her I claim the kingdom : she was heir
+To Roger , Earl of March ; who was the son
+Of Edmund Mortimer ; who married Philippe ,
+Sole daughter unto Lionel , Duke of Clarence :
+So , if the issue of the eldest son
+Succeed before the younger , I am king .
+
+What plain proceeding is more plain than this ?
+Henry doth claim the crown from John of Gaunt ,
+The fourth son ; York claims it from the third .
+Till Lionel's issue fails , his should not reign :
+It fails not yet , but flourishes in thee ,
+And in thy sons , fair slips of such a stock .
+Then , father Salisbury , kneel we together ,
+And in this private plot be we the first
+That shall salute our rightful sovereign
+With honour of his birthright to the crown .
+
+Long live our sovereign Richard , England's king !
+
+We thank you , lords ! But I am not your king
+Till I be crown'd , and that my sword be stain'd
+With heart-blood of the house of Lancaster ;
+And that's not suddenly to be perform'd ,
+But with advice and silent secrecy .
+Do you as I do in these dangerous days ,
+Wink at the Duke of Suffolk's insolence ,
+At Beaufort's pride , at Somerset's ambition ,
+At Buckingham and all the crew of them ,
+Till they have snar'd the shepherd of the flock ,
+That virtuous prince , the good Duke Humphrey :
+'Tis that they seek ; and they , in seeking that
+Shall find their deaths , if York can prophesy .
+
+My lord , break we off ; we know your mind at full .
+
+My heart assures me that the Earl of Warwick
+Shall one day make the Duke of York a king .
+
+And , Nevil , this I do assure myself ,
+Richard shall live to make the Earl of Warwick
+The greatest man in England but the king .
+
+
+Stand forth , Dame Eleanor Cobham , Gloucester's wife .
+In sight of God and us , your guilt is great :
+Receive the sentence of the law for sins
+Such as by God's book are adjudg'd to death .
+You four , from hence to prison back again ;
+From thence , unto the place of execution :
+The witch in Smithfield shall be burn'd to ashes ,
+And you three shall be strangled on the gallows .
+You , madam , for you are more nobly born ,
+Despoiled of your honour in your life ,
+Shall , after three days' open penance done ,
+Live in your country here , in banishment ,
+With Sir John Stanley , in the Isle of Man .
+
+Welcome is banishment ; welcome were my death .
+
+Eleanor , the law , thou seest , hath judged thee :
+I cannot justify whom the law condemns .
+
+Mine eyes are full of tears , my heart of grief .
+Ah , Humphrey ! this dishonour in thine age
+Will bring thy head with sorrow to the ground .
+I beseech your majesty , give me leave to go ;
+Sorrow would solace and mine age would ease .
+
+Stay , Humphrey , Duke of Gloucester : ere thou go ,
+Give up thy staff : Henry will to himself
+Protector be ; and God shall be my hope ,
+My stay , my guide , and lantern to my feet .
+And go in peace , Humphrey ; no less belov'd
+Than when thou wert protector to thy king .
+
+I see no reason why a king of years
+Should be to be protected like a child .
+God and King Henry govern England's helm !
+Give up your staff , sir , and the king his realm .
+
+My staff ! here , noble Henry , is my staff :
+As willingly do I the same resign
+As e'er thy father Henry made it mine ;
+And even as willingly at thy feet I leave it
+As others would ambitiously receive it .
+Farewell , good king ! when I am dead and gone ,
+May honourable peace attend thy throne .
+
+
+Why , now is Henry king , and Margaret queen ;
+And Humphrey , Duke of Gloucester , scarce himself ,
+That bears so shrewd a maim : two pulls at once ;
+His lady banish'd , and a limb lopp'd off ;
+This staff of honour raught : there let it stand ,
+Where it best fits to be , in Henry's hand .
+
+Thus droops this lofty pine and hangs his sprays ;
+Thus Eleanor's pride dies in her youngest days .
+
+Lords , let him go . Please it your majesty
+This is the day appointed for the combat ;
+And ready are the appellant and defendant ,
+The armourer and his man , to enter the lists ,
+So please your highness to behold the fight .
+
+Ay , good my lord ; for purposely therefore
+Left I the court , to see this quarrel tried .
+
+O' God's name , see the lists and all things fit :
+Here let them end it ; and God defend the right !
+
+I never saw a fellow worse bested ,
+Or more afraid to fight , than is the appellant ,
+The servant of this armourer , my lords .
+
+
+Here , neighbour Horner , I drink to you in a cup of sack : and fear not , neighbour , you shall do well enough .
+
+And here , neighbour , here's a cup of charneco .
+
+And here's a pot of good double beer , neighbour : drink , and fear not your man .
+
+Let it come , i' faith , and I'll pledge you all ; and a fig for Peter !
+
+Here , Peter , I drink to thee ; and be not afraid .
+
+Be merry , Peter , and fear not thy master : fight for credit of the prentices .
+
+I thank you all : drink , and pray for me , I pray you ; for , I think , I have taken my last draught in this world . Here , Robin , an if I die , I give thee my apron : and , Will , thou shalt have my hammer : and here , Tom , take all the money that I have . O Lord bless me ! I pray God , for I am never able to deal with my master , he hath learnt so much fence already .
+
+Come , leave your drinking and fall to blows . Sirrah , what's thy name ?
+
+Peter , forsooth .
+
+Peter ! what more ?
+
+Thump .
+
+Thump ! then see thou thump thy master well .
+
+Masters , I am come hither , as it were , upon my man's instigation , to prove him a knave , and myself an honest man : and touching the Duke of York , I will take my death I never meant him any ill , nor the king , nor the queen ; and therefore , Peter , have at thee with a downright blow !
+
+Dispatch : this knave's tongue begins to double .
+Sound , trumpets , alarum to the combatants .
+
+
+Hold , Peter , hold ! I confess , I confess treason .
+
+
+Take away his weapon . Fellow , thank
+God , and the good wine in thy master's way .
+
+O God ! have I overcome mine enemies in this presence ? O Peter ! thou hast prevailed in right !
+
+Go , take hence that traitor from our sight ;
+For by his death we do perceive his guilt :
+And God in justice hath reveal'd to us
+The truth and innocence of this poor fellow ,
+Which he had thought to have murder'd wrongfully .
+Come , fellow , follow us for thy reward .
+
+
+Thus sometimes hath the brightest day a cloud ;
+And after summer evermore succeeds
+Barren winter , with his wrathful nipping cold :
+So cares and joys abound , as seasons fleet .
+Sirs , what's o'clock ?
+
+Ten , my lord .
+
+Ten is the hour that was appointed me
+To watch the coming of my punish'd duchess :
+Uneath may she endure the flinty streets ,
+To tread them with her tender-feeling feet .
+Sweet Nell , ill can thy noble mind abrook
+The abject people , gazing on thy face
+With envious looks still laughing at thy shame ,
+That erst did follow thy proud chariot wheels
+When thou didst ride in triumph through the streets .
+But , soft ! I think she comes ; and I'll prepare
+My tear-stain'd eyes to see her miseries .
+
+
+So please your Grace , we'll take her from the sheriff .
+
+No , stir not , for your lives ; let her pass by .
+
+Come you , my lord , to see my open shame ?
+Now thou dost penance too . Look ! how they gaze .
+See ! how the giddy multitude do point ,
+And nod their heads , and throw their eyes on thee .
+Ah , Gloucester , hide thee from their hateful looks ,
+And , in thy closet pent up , rue my shame ,
+And ban thine enemies , both mine and thine !
+
+Be patient , gentle Nell ; forget this grief .
+
+Ay , Gloucester , teach me to forget myself ;
+For whilst I think I am thy wedded wife ,
+And thou a prince , protector of this land ,
+Methinks I should not thus be led along ,
+Mail'd up in shame , with papers on my back ,
+And follow'd with a rabble that rejoice
+To see my tears and hear my deep-fet groans .
+The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet ,
+And when I start , the envious people laugh ,
+And bid me be advised how I tread .
+Ah , Humphrey ! can I bear this shameful yoke ?
+Trow'st thou that e'er I'll look upon the world ,
+Or count them happy that enjoy the sun ?
+No ; dark shall be my light , and night my day ;
+To think upon my pomp shall be my hell .
+Sometime I'll say , I am Duke Humphrey's wife ;
+And he a prince and ruler of the land :
+Yet so he rul'd and such a prince he was
+As he stood by whilst I , his forlorn duchess ,
+Was made a wonder and a pointing-stock
+To every idle rascal follower .
+But be thou mild and blush not at my shame ;
+Nor stir at nothing till the axe of death
+Hang over thee , as , sure , it shortly will ;
+For Suffolk , he that can do all in all
+With her that hateth thee , and hates us all ,
+And York , and impious Beaufort , that false priest ,
+Have all lim'd bushes to betray thy wings ;
+And , fly thou how thou canst , they'll tangle thee :
+But fear not thou , until thy foot be snar'd ,
+Nor never seek prevention of thy foes .
+
+Ah , Nell ! forbear : thou aimest all awry ;
+I must offend before I be attainted ;
+And had I twenty times so many foes ,
+And each of them had twenty times their power ,
+All these could not procure me any scath ,
+So long as I am loyal , true , and crimeless .
+Wouldst have me rescue thee from this reproach ?
+Why , yet thy scandal were not wip'd away ,
+But I in danger for the breach of law .
+Thy greatest help is quiet , gentle Nell :
+I pray thee , sort thy heart to patience ;
+These few days' wonder will be quickly worn .
+
+
+I summon your Grace to his majesty's parliament , holden at Bury the first of this next month .
+
+And my consent ne'er ask'd herein before !
+This is close dealing . Well , I will be there .
+
+My Nell , I take my leave : and , master sheriff ,
+Let not her penance exceed the king's commission .
+
+An't please your Grace , here my commission stays ;
+And Sir John Stanley is appointed now
+To take her with him to the Isle of Man .
+
+Must you , Sir John , protect my lady here ?
+
+So am I given in charge , may't please your Grace .
+
+Entreat her not the worse in that I pray
+You use her well . The world may laugh again ;
+And I may live to do you kindness if
+You do it her : and so , Sir John , farewell .
+
+What ! gone , my lord , and bid me not farewell !
+
+Witness my tears , I cannot stay to speak .
+
+
+Art thou gone too ? All comfort go with thee !
+For none abides with me : my joy is death ;
+Death , at whose name I oft have been afear'd ,
+Because I wish'd this world's eternity .
+Stanley , I prithee , go , and take me hence ;
+I care not whither , for I beg no favour ,
+Only convey me where thou art commanded .
+
+Why , madam , that is to the Isle of Man ;
+There to be us'd according to your state .
+
+That's bad enough , for I am but reproach :
+And shall I then be us'd reproachfully ?
+
+Like to a duchess , and Duke Humphrey's lady :
+According to that state you shall be us'd .
+
+Sheriff , farewell , and better than I fare ,
+Although thou hast been conduct of my shame .
+
+It is my office ; and , madam , pardon me .
+
+Ay , ay , farewell ; thy office is discharg'd .
+Come , Stanley , shall we go ?
+
+Madam , your penance done , throw off this sheet ,
+And go we to attire you for our journey .
+
+My shame will not be shifted with my sheet :
+No ; it will hang upon my richest robes ,
+And show itself , attire me how I can .
+Go , lead the way ; I long to see my prison .
+
+
+I muse my Lord of Gloucester is not come :
+'Tis not his wont to be the hindmost man ,
+Whate'er occasion keeps him from us now .
+
+Can you not see ? or will ye not observe
+The strangeness of his alter'd countenance ?
+With what a majesty he bears himself ,
+How insolent of late he is become ,
+How proud , how peremptory , and unlike himself ?
+We know the time since he was mild and affable ,
+An if we did but glance a far-off look ,
+Immediately he was upon his knee ,
+That all the court admir'd him for submission :
+But meet him now , and , be it in the morn ,
+When everyone will give the time of day ,
+He knits his brow and shows an angry eye ,
+And passeth by with stiff unbowed knee ,
+Disdaining duty that to us belongs .
+Small curs are not regarded when they grin ,
+But great men tremble when the lion roars ;
+And Humphrey is no little man in England .
+First note that he is near you in descent ,
+And should you fall , he is the next will mount .
+Me seemeth then it is no policy ,
+Respecting what a rancorous mind he bears ,
+And his advantage following your decease ,
+That he should come about your royal person
+Or be admitted to your highness' council .
+By flattery hath he won the commons' hearts ,
+And when he please to make commotion ,
+'Tis to be fear'd they all will follow him .
+Now 'tis the spring , and weeds are shallow-rooted ;
+Suffer them now and they'll o'ergrow the garden ,
+And choke the herbs for want of husbandry .
+The reverent care I bear unto my lord
+Made me collect these dangers in the duke .
+If it be fond , call it a woman's fear ;
+Which fear if better reasons can supplant ,
+I will subscribe and say I wrong'd the duke .
+My Lord of Suffolk , Buckingham , and York ,
+Reprove my allegation if you can
+Or else conclude my words effectual .
+
+Well hath your highness seen into this duke ;
+And had I first been put to speak my mind ,
+I think I should have told your Grace's tale .
+The duchess , by his subornation ,
+Upon my life , began her devilish practices :
+Or if he were not privy to those faults ,
+Yet , by reputing of his high descent ,
+As , next the king he was successive heir ,
+And such high vaunts of his nobility ,
+Did instigate the bedlam brain-sick duchess ,
+By wicked means to frame our sovereign's fall .
+Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep ,
+And in his simple show he harbours treason .
+The fox barks not when he would steal the lamb :
+No , no , my sov'reign ; Gloucester is a man
+Unsounded yet , and full of deep deceit .
+
+Did he not , contrary to form of law ,
+Devise strange deaths for small offences done ?
+
+And did he not , in his protectorship ,
+Levy great sums of money through the realm
+For soldiers' pay in France , and never sent it ?
+By means whereof the towns each day revolted .
+
+Tut ! these are petty faults to faults unknown ,
+Which time will bring to light in smooth Duke Humphrey .
+
+My lords , at once : the care you have of us ,
+To mow down thorns that would annoy our foot ,
+Is worthy praise ; but shall I speak my conscience ,
+Our kinsman Gloucester is as innocent
+From meaning treason to our royal person ,
+As is the sucking lamb or harmless dove .
+The duke is virtuous , mild , and too well given
+To dream on evil , or to work my downfall .
+
+Ah ! what's more dangerous than this fond affiance !
+Seems he a dove ? his feathers are but borrow'd ,
+For he's disposed as the hateful raven :
+Is he a lamb ? his skin is surely lent him ,
+For he's inclin'd as is the ravenous wolf .
+Who cannot steal a shape that means deceit ?
+Take heed , my lord ; the welfare of us all
+Hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man .
+
+
+All health unto my gracious sovereign !
+
+Welcome , Lord Somerset . What news from France ?
+
+That all your interest in those territories
+Is utterly bereft you ; all is lost .
+
+Cold news , Lord Somerset : but God's will be done !
+
+Cold news for me ; for I had hope of France ,
+As firmly as I hope for fertile England .
+Thus are my blossoms blasted in the bud ,
+And caterpillars eat my leaves away ;
+But I will remedy this gear ere long ,
+Or sell my title for a glorious grave .
+
+
+All happiness unto my lord the king !
+Pardon , my liege , that I have stay'd so long .
+
+Nay , Gloucester , know that thou art come too soon ,
+Unless thou wert more loyal than thou art :
+I do arrest thee of high treason here .
+
+Well , Suffolk's duke , thou shalt not see me blush ,
+Nor change my countenance for this arrest :
+A heart unspotted is not easily daunted .
+The purest spring is not so free from mud
+As I am clear from treason to my sovereign .
+Who can accuse me ? wherein am I guilty ?
+
+'Tis thought , my lord , that you took bribes of France ,
+And , being protector , stay'd the soldiers' pay ;
+By means whereof his highness hath lost France .
+
+Is it but thought so ? What are they that think it ?
+I never robb'd the soldiers of their pay ,
+Nor ever had one penny bribe from France .
+So help me God , as I have watch'd the night ,
+Ay , night by night , in studying good for England ,
+That doit that e'er I wrested from the king ,
+Or any groat I hoarded to my use ,
+Be brought against me at my trial-day !
+No ; many a pound of mine own proper store ,
+Because I would not tax the needy commons ,
+Have I disbursed to the garrisons ,
+And never ask'd for restitution .
+
+It serves you well , my lord , to say so much .
+
+I say no more than truth , so help me God !
+
+In your protectorship you did devise
+Strange tortures for offenders , never heard of ,
+That England was defam'd by tyranny .
+
+Why , 'tis well known that , whiles I was protector ,
+Pity was all the fault that was in me ;
+For I should melt at an offender's tears ,
+And lowly words were ransom for their fault .
+Unless it were a bloody murderer ,
+Or foul felonious thief that fleec'd poor passengers ,
+I never gave them condign punishment :
+Murder , indeed , that bloody sin , I tortur'd
+Above the felon or what trespass else .
+
+My lord , these faults are easy , quickly answer'd :
+But mightier crimes are laid unto your charge ,
+Whereof you cannot easily purge yourself .
+I do arrest you in his highness' name ;
+And here commit you to my Lord Cardinal
+To keep until your further time of trial .
+
+My Lord of Gloucester , 'tis my special hope
+That you will clear yourself from all suspect :
+My conscience tells me you are innocent .
+
+Ah ! gracious lord , these days are dangerous .
+Virtue is chok'd with foul ambition ,
+And charity chas'd hence by rancour's hand ;
+Foul subornation is predominant ,
+And equity exil'd your highness' land .
+I know their complot is to have my life ;
+And if my death might make this island happy ,
+And prove the period of their tyranny ,
+I would expend it with all willingness ;
+But mine is made the prologue to their play ;
+For thousands more , that yet suspect no peril ,
+Will not conclude their plotted tragedy .
+Beaufort's red sparkling eyes blab his heart's malice ,
+And Suffolk's cloudy brow his stormy hate ;
+Sharp Buckingham unburdens with his tongue
+The envious load that lies upon his heart ;
+And dogged York , that reaches at the moon ,
+Whose overweening arm I have pluck'd back ,
+By false accuse doth level at my life :
+And you , my sov'reign lady , with the rest ,
+Causeless have laid disgraces on my head ,
+And with your best endeavour have stirr'd up
+My liefest liege to be mine enemy .
+Ay , all of you have laid your heads together ;
+Myself had notice of your conventicles ;
+And all to make away my guiltless life .
+I shall not want false witness to condemn me ,
+Nor store of treasons to augment my guilt ;
+The ancient proverb will be well effected :
+'A staff is quickly found to beat a dog .'
+
+My liege , his railing is intolerable .
+If those that care to keep your royal person
+From treason's secret knife and traitor's rage
+Be thus upbraided , chid , and rated at ,
+And the offender granted scope of speech ,
+'Twill make them cool in zeal unto your Grace .
+
+Hath he not twit our sovereign lady here
+With ignominious words , though clerkly couch'd ,
+As if she had suborned some to swear
+False allegations to o'erthrow his state ?
+
+But I can give the loser leave to chide .
+
+Far truer spoke than meant : I lose , indeed ;
+Beshrew the winners , for they play'd me false !
+And well such losers may have leave to speak .
+
+He'll wrest the sense and hold us here all day .
+Lord Cardinal , he is your prisoner .
+
+Sirs , take away the duke , and guard him sure .
+
+Ah ! thus King Henry throws away his crutch
+Before his legs be firm to bear his body :
+Thus is the shepherd beaten from thy side ,
+And wolves are gnarling who shall gnaw thee first .
+Ah ! that my fear were false , ah ! that it were ;
+For , good King Henry , thy decay I fear .
+
+
+My lords , what to your wisdoms seemeth best
+Do or undo , as if ourself were here .
+
+What ! will your highness leave the parliament ?
+
+Ay , Margaret ; my heart is drown'd with grief ,
+Whose flood begins to flow within mine eyes ,
+My body round engirt with misery ,
+For what's more miserable than discontent ?
+Ah ! uncle Humphrey , in thy face I see
+The map of honour , truth , and loyalty ;
+And yet , good Humphrey , is the hour to come
+That e'er I prov'd thee false , or fear'd thy faith .
+What low'ring star now envies thy estate ,
+That these great lords , and Margaret our queen ,
+Do seek subversion of thy harmless life ?
+Thou never didst them wrong , nor no man wrong ;
+And as the butcher takes away the calf ,
+And binds the wretch , and beats it when it strays ,
+Bearing it to the bloody slaughter-house ,
+Even so , remorseless , have they borne him hence ;
+And as the dam runs lowing up and down ,
+Looking the way her harmless young one went ,
+And can do nought but wail her darling's loss ;
+Even so myself bewails good Gloucester's case ,
+With sad unhelpful tears , and with dimm'd eyes
+Look after him , and cannot do him good ;
+So mighty are his vowed enemies .
+His fortunes I will weep ; and , 'twixt each groan ,
+Say 'Who's a traitor , Gloucester he is none .'
+
+
+Fair lords , cold snow melts with the sun's hot beams .
+Henry my lord is cold in great affairs ,
+Too full of foolish pity ; and Gloucester's show
+Beguiles him as the mournful crocodile
+With sorrow snares relenting passengers ;
+Or as the snake , roll'd in a flow'ring bank ,
+With shining checker'd slough , doth sting a child
+That for the beauty thinks it excellent .
+Believe me , lords , were none more wise than I ,
+And yet herein I judge mine own wit good ,
+This Gloucester should be quickly rid the world ,
+To rid us from the fear we have of him .
+
+That he should die is worthy policy ;
+And yet we want a colour for his death .
+'Tis meet he be condemn'd by course of law .
+
+But in my mind that were no policy :
+The king will labour still to save his life ;
+The commons haply rise to save his life ;
+And yet we have but trivial argument ,
+More than mistrust , that shows him worthy death .
+
+So that , by this , you would not have him die .
+
+Ah ! York , no man alive so fain as I .
+
+'Tis York that hath more reason for his death .
+But my Lord Cardinal , and you , my Lord of Suffolk ,
+Say as you think , and speak it from your souls ,
+Were't not all one an empty eagle were set
+To guard the chicken from a hungry kite ,
+As place Duke Humphrey for the king's protector ?
+
+So the poor chicken should be sure of death .
+
+Madam , 'tis true : and were't not madness , then ,
+To make the fox surveyor of the fold ?
+Who , being accus'd a crafty murderer ,
+His guilt should be but idly posted over
+Because his purpose is not executed .
+No ; let him die , in that he is a fox ,
+By nature prov'd an enemy to the flock ,
+Before his chaps be stain'd with crimson blood ,
+As Humphrey , prov'd by reasons , to my liege .
+And do not stand on quillets how to slay him :
+Be it by gins , by snares , by subtilty ,
+Sleeping or waking , 'tis no matter how ,
+So he be dead ; for that is good deceit
+Which mates him first that first intends deceit .
+
+Thrice noble Suffolk , 'tis resolutely spoke .
+
+Not resolute , except so much were done ,
+For things are often spoke and seldom meant ;
+But , that my heart accordeth with my tongue ,
+Seeing the deed is meritorious ,
+And to preserve my sovereign from his foe ,
+Say but the word and I will be his priest .
+
+But I would have him dead , my Lord of Suffolk ,
+Ere you can take due orders for a priest :
+Say you consent and censure well the deed ,
+And I'll provide his executioner ;
+I tender so the safety of my liege .
+
+Here is my hand , the deed is worthy doing .
+
+And so say I .
+
+And I : and now we three have spoke it ,
+It skills not greatly who impugns our doom .
+
+
+Great lords , from Ireland am I come amain ,
+To signify that rebels there are up ,
+And put the Englishmen unto the sword .
+Send succours , lords , and stop the rage betime ,
+Before the wound do grow uncurable ;
+For , being green , there is great hope of help .
+
+A breach that craves a quick expedient stop !
+What counsel give you in this weighty cause ?
+
+That Somerset be sent as regent thither .
+'Tis meet that lucky ruler be employ'd ;
+Witness the fortune he hath had in France .
+
+If York , with all his far-fet policy ,
+Had been the regent there instead of me ,
+He never would have stay'd in France so long .
+
+No , not to lose it all , as thou hast done :
+I rather would have lost my life betimes
+Than bring a burden of dishonour home ,
+By staying there so long till all were lost .
+Show me one scar character'd on thy skin :
+Men's flesh preserv'd so whole do seldom win .
+
+Nay then , this spark will prove a raging fire ,
+If wind and fuel be brought to feed it with .
+No more , good York ; sweet Somerset , be still :
+Thy fortune , York , hadst thou been regent there ,
+Might happily have prov'd far worse than his .
+
+What ! worse than nought ? nay , then a shame take all .
+
+And in the number thee , that wishest shame .
+
+My Lord of York , try what your fortune is .
+The uncivil kerns of Ireland are in arms
+And temper clay with blood of Englishmen :
+To Ireland will you lead a band of men ,
+Collected choicely , from each county some ,
+And try your hap against the Irishmen ?
+
+I will , my lord , so please his majesty .
+
+Why , our authority is his consent ,
+And what we do establish he confirms :
+Then , noble York , take thou this task in hand .
+
+I am content : provide me soldiers , lords ,
+Whiles I take order for mine own affairs .
+
+A charge , Lord York , that I will see perform'd .
+But now return we to the false Duke Humphrey .
+
+No more of him ; for I will deal with him
+That henceforth he shall trouble us no more .
+And so break off ; the day is almost spent .
+Lord Suffolk , you and I must talk of that event .
+
+My Lord of Suffolk , within fourteen days
+At Bristol I expect my soldiers ;
+For there I'll ship them all for Ireland .
+
+I'll see it truly done , my Lord of York .
+
+
+Now , York , or never , steel thy fearful thoughts ,
+And change misdoubt to resolution :
+Be that thou hop'st to be , or what thou art
+Resign to death ; it is not worth the enjoying .
+Let pale-fac'd fear keep with the mean-born man ,
+And find no harbour in a royal heart .
+Faster than spring-time showers comes thought on thought ,
+And not a thought but thinks on dignity .
+My brain , more busy than the labouring spider ,
+Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies .
+Well , nobles , well ; 'tis politicly done ,
+To send me packing with a host of men :
+I fear me you but warm the starved snake ,
+Who , cherish'd in your breasts , will sting your hearts .
+'Twas men I lack'd , and you will give them me :
+I take it kindly ; yet be well assur'd
+You put sharp weapons in a madman's hands .
+Whiles I in Ireland nourish a mighty band ,
+I will stir up in England some black storm
+Shall blow ten thousand souls to heaven or hell ;
+And this fell tempest shall not cease to rage
+Until the golden circuit on my head ,
+Like to the glorious sun's transparent beams ,
+Do calm the fury of this mad-bred flaw .
+And , for a minister of my intent ,
+I have seduc'd a headstrong Kentishman ,
+John Cade of Ashford ,
+To make commotion , as full well he can ,
+Under the title of John Mortimer .
+In Ireland have I seen this stubborn Cade
+Oppose himself against a troop of kerns ,
+And fought so long , till that his thighs with darts
+Were almost like a sharp-quill'd porpentine :
+And , in the end being rescu'd , I have seen
+Him caper upright like a wild Morisco ,
+Shaking the bloody darts as he his bells .
+Full often , like a shag-hair'd crafty kern ,
+Hath he conversed with the enemy ,
+And undiscover'd come to me again ,
+And given me notice of their villanies .
+This devil here shall be my substitute ;
+For that John Mortimer , which now is dead ,
+In face , in gait , in speech , he doth resemble ;
+By this I shall perceive the commons' mind ,
+How they affect the house and claim of York .
+Say he be taken , rack'd , and tortured ,
+I know no pain they can inflict upon him
+Will make him say I mov'd him to those arms .
+Say that he thrive ,as 'tis great like he will ,
+Why , then from Ireland come I with my strength ,
+And reap the harvest which that rascal sow'd ;
+For , Humphrey being dead , as he shall be ,
+And Henry put apart , the next for me .
+
+
+Run to my Lord of Suffolk ; let him know
+We have dispatch'd the duke , as he commanded .
+
+O ! that it were to do . What have we done ?
+Didst ever hear a man so penitent ?
+
+
+Here comes my lord .
+
+Now , sirs , have you dispatch'd this thing ?
+
+Ay , my good lord , he's dead .
+
+Why , that's well said . Go , get you to my house ;
+I will reward you for this venturous deed .
+The king and all the peers are here at hand .
+Have you laid fair the bed ? is all things well ,
+According as I gave directions ?
+
+'Tis , my good lord .
+
+Away ! be gone .
+
+Go , call our uncle to our presence straight ;
+Say , we intend to try his Grace to-day ,
+If he be guilty , as 'tis published .
+
+I'll call him presently , my noble lord .
+
+
+Lords , take your places ; and , I pray you all ,
+Proceed no straiter 'gainst our uncle Gloucester
+Than from true evidence , of good esteem ,
+He be approv'd in practice culpable .
+
+God forbid any malice should prevail
+That faultless may condemn a nobleman !
+Pray God , he may acquit him of suspicion !
+
+I thank thee , Meg ; these words content me much .
+
+
+How now ! why look'st thou pale ? why tremblest thou ?
+
+Where is our uncle ? what's the matter , Suffolk ?
+
+Dead in his bed , my lord ; Gloucester is dead .
+
+Marry , God forfend !
+
+God's secret judgment : I did dream to-night
+The duke was dumb , and could not speak a word .
+
+
+How fares my lord ? Help , lords ! the king is dead .
+
+Rear up his body ; wring him by the nose .
+
+Run , go , help , help ! O Henry , ope thine eyes !
+
+He doth revive again . Madam , be patient .
+
+O heavenly God !
+
+How fares my gracious lord ?
+
+Comfort , my sovereign ! grocious Henry , comfort !
+
+What ! doth my Lord of Suffolk comfort me ?
+Came he right now to sing a raven's note ,
+Whose dismal tune bereft my vital powers ,
+And thinks he that the chirping of a wren ,
+By crying comfort from a hollow breast ,
+Can chase away the first-conceived sound ?
+Hide not thy poison with such sugar'd words :
+Lay not thy hands on me ; forbear , I say :
+Their touch affrights me as a serpent's sting .
+Thou baleful messenger , out of my sight !
+Upon thy eyeballs murderous tyranny
+Sits in grim majesty to fright the world .
+Look not upon me , for thine eyes are wounding :
+Yet do not go away ; come , basilisk ,
+And kill the innocent gazer with thy sight ;
+For in the shade of death I shall find joy ,
+In life but double death , now Gloucester's dead .
+
+Why do you rate my Lord of Suffolk thus ?
+Although the duke was enemy to him ,
+Yet he , most Christian-like , laments his death :
+And for myself , foe as he was to me ,
+Might liquid tears or heart-offending groans
+Or blood-consuming sighs recall his life ,
+I would be blind with weeping , sick with groans ,
+Look pale as primrose with blood-drinking sighs ,
+And all to have the noble duke alive .
+What know I how the world may deem of me ?
+For it is known we were but hollow friends :
+It may be judg'd I made the duke away :
+So shall my name with slander's tongue be wounded ,
+And princes' courts be fill'd with my reproach .
+This get I by his death . Ay me , unhappy !
+To be a queen , and crown'd with infamy !
+
+Ah ! woe is me for Gloucester , wretched man .
+
+Be woe for me , more wretched than he is .
+What ! dost thou turn away and hide thy face ?
+I am no loathsome leper ; look on me .
+What ! art thou , like the adder , waxen deaf ?
+Be poisonous too and kill thy forlorn queen .
+Is all thy comfort shut in Gloucester's tomb ?
+Why , then , Dame Margaret was ne'er thy joy :
+Erect his statua and worship it ,
+And make my image but an alehouse sign .
+Was I for this nigh wrack'd upon the sea ,
+And twice by awkward wind from England's bank
+Drove back again unto my native clime ?
+What boded this , but well forewarning wind
+Did seem to say , 'Seek not a scorpion's nest ,
+Nor set no footing on this unkind shore ?'
+What did I then , but curs'd the gentle gusts
+And he that loos'd them forth their brazen caves ;
+And bid them blow towards England's blessed shore ,
+Or turn our stern upon a dreadful rock ?
+Yet olus would not be a murderer ,
+But left that hateful office unto thee :
+The pretty vaulting sea refus'd to drown me ,
+Knowing that thou wouldst have me drown'd on shore
+With tears as salt as sea through thy unkindness :
+The splitting rocks cower'd in the sinking sands ,
+And would not dash me with their ragged sides ,
+Because thy flinty heart , more hard than they ,
+Might in thy palace perish Margaret .
+As far as I could ken thy chalky cliffs ,
+When from thy shore the tempest beat us back ,
+I stood upon the hatches in the storm ,
+And when the dusky sky began to rob
+My earnest-gaping sight of thy land's view ,
+I took a costly jewel from my neck ,
+A heart it was , bound in with diamonds ,
+And threw it towards thy land : the sea receiv'd it ,
+And so I wish'd thy body might my heart :
+And even with this I lost fair England's view ,
+And bid mine eyes be packing with my heart ,
+And call'd them blind and dusky spectacles
+For losing ken of Albion's wished coast .
+How often have I tempted Suffolk's tongue
+The agent of thy foul inconstancy
+To sit and witch me , as Ascanius did
+When he to madding Dido would unfold
+His father's acts , commenc'd in burning Troy !
+Am I not witch'd like her ? or thou not false like him ?
+Ay me ! I can no more . Die , Margaret !
+For Henry weeps that thou dost live so long .
+
+It is reported , mighty sovereign ,
+That good Duke Humphrey trait'rously is murder'd
+By Suffolk and the Cardinal Beaufort's means .
+The commons , like an angry hive of bees
+That want their leader , scatter up and down ,
+And care not who they sting in his revenge .
+Myself have calm'd their spleenful mutiny ,
+Until they hear the order of his death .
+
+That he is dead , good Warwick , 'tis too true ;
+But how he died God knows , not Henry .
+Enter his chamber , view his breathless corpse ,
+And comment then upon his sudden death .
+
+That shall I do , my liege . Stay , Salisbury ,
+With the rude multitude till I return .
+
+
+O ! Thou that judgest all things , stay my thoughts ,
+My thoughts that labour to persuade my soul
+Some violent hands were laid on Humphrey's life .
+If my suspect be false , forgive me , God ,
+For judgment only doth belong to thee .
+Fain would I go to chafe his paly lips
+With twenty thousand kisses , and to drain
+Upon his face an ocean of salt tears ,
+To tell my love unto his deaf dumb trunk ,
+And with my fingers feel his hand unfeeling :
+But all in vain are these mean obsequies ,
+And to survey his dead and earthly image
+What were it but to make my sorrow greater ?
+
+
+Come hither , gracious sovereign , view this body .
+
+That is to see how deep my grave is made ;
+For with his soul fled all my worldly solace ,
+For seeing him I see my life in death .
+
+As surely as my soul intends to live
+With that dread King that took our state upon him
+To free us from his Father's wrathful curse ,
+I do believe that violent hands were laid
+Upon the life of this thrice-famed duke .
+
+A dreadful oath , sworn with a solemn tongue !
+What instance gives Lord Warwick for his vow ?
+
+See how the blood is settled in his face .
+Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost ,
+Of ashy semblance , meagre , pale , and bloodless ,
+Being all descended to the labouring heart ;
+Who , in the conflict that it holds with death ,
+Attracts the same for aidance 'gainst the enemy ;
+Which with the heart there cools , and ne'er returneth
+To blush and beautify the cheek again .
+But see , his face is black and full of blood ,
+His eyeballs further out than when he liv'd ,
+Staring full ghastly like a strangled man ;
+His hair uprear'd , his nostrils stretch'd with struggling :
+His hands abroad display'd , as one that grasp'd
+And tugg'd for life , and was by strength subdu'd .
+Look on the sheets , his hair , you see , is sticking ;
+His well-proportion'd beard made rough and rugged ,
+Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodg'd .
+It cannot be but he was murder'd here ;
+The least of all these signs were probable .
+
+Why , Warwick , who should do the duke to death ?
+Myself and Beaufort had him in protection ;
+And we , I hope , sir , are no murderers .
+
+But both of you were vow'd Duke Humphrey's foes ,
+And you , forsooth , had the good duke to keep :
+'Tis like you would not feast him like a friend ,
+And 'tis well seen he found an enemy .
+
+Then you , belike , suspect these noblemen
+As guilty of Duke Humphrey's timeless death .
+
+Who finds the heifer dead , and bleeding fresh ,
+And sees fast by a butcher with an axe ,
+But will suspect 'twas he that made the slaughter ?
+Who finds the partridge in the puttock's nest ,
+But may imagine how the bird was dead ,
+Although the kite soar with unbloodied beak ?
+Even so suspicious is this tragedy .
+
+Are you the butcher , Suffolk ? where's your knife ?
+Is Beaufort term'd a kite ? where are his talons ?
+
+I wear no knife to slaughter sleeping men ;
+But here's a vengeful sword , rusted with ease ,
+That shall be scoured in his rancorous heart
+That slanders me with murder's crimson badge .
+Say , if thou dar'st , proud Lord of Warwickshire ,
+That I am faulty in Duke Humphrey's death .
+
+
+What dares not Warwick , if false Suffolk dare him ?
+
+He dares not calm his contumelious spirit ,
+Nor cease to be an arrogant controller ,
+Though Suffolk dare him twenty thousand times .
+
+Madam , be still , with reverence may I say ;
+For every word you speak in his behalf
+Is slander to your royal dignity .
+
+Blunt-witted lord , ignoble in demeanour !
+If ever lady wrong'd her lord so much ,
+Thy mother took into her blameful bed
+Some stern untutor'd churl , and noble stock
+Was graft with crab-tree slip ; whose fruit thou art ,
+And never of the Nevils' noble race .
+
+But that the guilt of murder bucklers thee ,
+And I should rob the deathsman of his fee ,
+Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames ,
+And that my sov'reign's presence makes me mild ,
+I would , false murd'rous coward , on thy knee
+Make thee beg pardon for thy passed speech ,
+And say it was thy mother that thou meant'st ;
+That thou thyself wast born in bastardy :
+And after all this fearful homage done ,
+Give thee thy hire , and send thy soul to hell ,
+Pernicious blood-sucker of sleeping men .
+
+Thou shalt be waking while I shed thy blood ,
+If from this presence thou dar'st go with me .
+
+Away even now , or I will drag thee hence :
+Unworthy though thou art , I'll cope with thee ,
+And do some service to Duke Humphrey's ghost .
+
+
+What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted !
+Thrice is he arm'd that hath his quarrel just ,
+And he but naked , though lock'd up in steel ,
+Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted .
+
+What noise is this ?
+
+Why , how now , lords ! your wrathful weapons drawn
+Here in our presence ! dare you be so bold ?
+Why , what tumultuous clamour have we here ?
+
+The traitorous Warwick , with the men of Bury ,
+Set all upon me , mighty sovereign .
+
+
+Sirs , stand apart ; the king shall know your mind .
+Dread lord , the commons send you word by me ,
+Unless false Suffolk straight be done to death ,
+Or banished fair England's territories ,
+They will by violence tear him from your palace
+And torture him with grievous lingering death .
+They say , by him the good Duke Humphrey died ;
+They say , in him they fear your highness' death ;
+And mere instinct of love and loyalty ,
+Free from a stubborn opposite intent ,
+As being thought to contradict your liking ,
+Makes them thus forward in his banishment .
+They say , in care of your most royal person ,
+That if your highness should intend to sleep ,
+And charge that no man should disturb your rest
+In pain of your dislike or pain of death ,
+Yet , notwithstanding such a strait edict ,
+Were there a serpent seen , with forked tongue ,
+That slily glided towards your majesty ,
+It were but necessary you were wak'd ,
+Lest , being suffer'd in that harmful slumber ,
+The mortal worm might make the sleep eternal :
+And therefore do they cry , though you forbid ,
+That they will guard you , whe'r you will or no ,
+From such fell serpents as false Suffolk is ;
+With whose envenomed and fatal sting ,
+Your loving uncle , twenty times his worth ,
+They say , is shamefully bereft of life .
+
+An answer from the king , my Lord of Salisbury !
+
+'Tis like the commons , rude unpolish'd hinds ,
+Could send such message to their sovereign ;
+But you , my lord , were glad to be employ'd ,
+To show how quaint an orator you are :
+But all the honour Salisbury hath won
+Is that he was the lord ambassador ,
+Sent from a sort of tinkers to the king .
+
+An answer from the king , or we will all break in !
+
+Go , Salisbury , and tell them all from me ,
+I thank them for their tender loving care ;
+And had I not been cited so by them ,
+Yet did I purpose as they do entreat ;
+For , sure , my thoughts do hourly prophesy
+Mischance unto my state by Suffolk's means :
+And therefore , by his majesty I swear ,
+Whose far unworthy deputy I am ,
+He shall not breathe infection in this air
+But three days longer , on the pain of death .
+
+
+O Henry ! let me plead for gentle Suffolk .
+
+Ungentle queen , to call him gentle Suffolk !
+No more , I say ; if thou dost plead for him
+Thou wilt but add increase unto my wrath .
+Had I but said , I would have kept my word ,
+But when I swear , it is irrevocable .
+
+
+If after three days' space thou here be'st found
+On any ground that I am ruler of ,
+The world shall not be ransom for thy life .
+Come , Warwick , come , good Warwick , go with me ;
+I have great matters to impart to thee .
+
+
+Mischance and sorrow go along with you !
+Heart's discontent and sour affliction
+Be playfellows to keep you company !
+There's two of you ; the devil make a third ,
+And threefold vengeance tend upon your steps !
+
+Cease , gentle queen , these execrations ,
+And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave .
+
+Fie , coward woman and soft-hearted wretch !
+Hast thou not spirit to curse thine enemy ?
+
+A plague upon them ! Wherefore should I curse them ?
+Would curses kill , as doth the mandrake's groan ,
+I would invent as bitter-searching terms ,
+As curst , as harsh and horrible to hear ,
+Deliver'd strongly through my fixed teeth ,
+With full as many signs of deadly hate ,
+As lean-fac'd Envy in her loathsome cave .
+My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words ;
+Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint ;
+My hair be fix'd on end , as one distract ;
+Ay , every joint should seem to curse and ban :
+And even now my burden'd heart would break
+Should I not curse them . Poison be their drink !
+Gall , worse than gall , the daintiest that they taste !
+Their sweetest shade a grove of cypress trees !
+Their chiefest prospect murdering basilisks !
+Their softest touch as smart as lizard's stings !
+Their music frightful as the serpent's hiss ,
+And boding screech-owls make the concert full !
+All the foul terrors in dark-seated hell
+
+Enough , sweet Suffolk ; thou torment'st thyself ;
+And these dread curses , like the sun 'gainst glass ,
+Or like an over-charged gun , recoil ,
+And turn the force of them upon thyself .
+
+You bade me ban , and will you bid me leave ?
+Now , by the ground that I am banish'd from ,
+Well could I curse away a winter's night ,
+Though standing naked on a mountain top ,
+Where biting cold would never let grass grow ,
+And think it but a minute spent in sport .
+
+O ! let me entreat thee , cease ! Give me thy hand ,
+That I may dew it with my mournful tears ;
+Nor let the rain of heaven wet this place ,
+To wash away my woeful monuments .
+O ! could this kiss be printed in thy hand ,
+
+That thou mightst think upon these by the seal ,
+Through whom a thousand sighs are breath'd for thee .
+So , get thee gone , that I may know my grief ;
+'Tis but surmis'd whiles thou art standing by ,
+As one that surfeits thinking on a want .
+I will repeal thee , or , be well assur'd ,
+Adventure to be banished myself ;
+And banished I am , if but from thee .
+Go ; speak not to me ; even now be gone .
+O ! go not yet . Even thus two friends condemn'd
+Embrace and kiss , and take ten thousand leaves ,
+Loather a hundred times to part than die .
+Yet now farewell ; and farewell life with thee !
+
+Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished ,
+Once by the king , and three times thrice by thee .
+'Tis not the land I care for , wert thou thence ;
+A wilderness is populous enough ,
+So Suffolk had thy heavenly company :
+For where thou art , there is the world itself ,
+With every several pleasure in the world ,
+And where thou art not , desolation .
+I can no more : live thou to joy thy life ;
+Myself to joy in nought but that thou liv'st .
+
+
+Whither goes Vaux so fast ? what news , I prithee ?
+
+To signify unto his majesty
+That Cardinal Beaufort is at point of death ;
+For suddenly a grievous sickness took him ,
+That makes him gasp and stare , and catch the air ,
+Blaspheming God , and cursing men on earth .
+Sometime he talks as if Duke Humphrey's ghost
+Were by his side ; sometime he calls the king ,
+And whispers to his pillow , as to him ,
+The secrets of his overcharged soul :
+And I am sent to tell his majesty
+That even now he cries aloud for him .
+
+Go tell this heavy message to the king .
+
+Ay me ! what is this world ! what news are these !
+But wherefore grieve I at an hour's poor loss ,
+Omitting Suffolk's exile , my soul's treasure ?
+Why only , Suffolk , mourn I not for thee ,
+And with the southern clouds contend in tears ,
+Theirs for the earth's increase , mine for my sorrows ?
+Now get thee hence : the king , thou know'st , is coming ;
+If thou be found by me thou art but dead .
+
+If I depart from thee I cannot live ;
+And in thy sight to die , what were it else
+But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap ?
+Here could I breathe my soul into the air ,
+As mild and gentle as the cradle babe ,
+Dying with mother's dug between its lips ;
+Where , from thy sight , I should be raging mad ,
+And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes ,
+To have thee with thy lips to stop my mouth :
+So shouldst thou either turn my flying soul ,
+Or I should breathe it so into thy body ,
+And then it liv'd in sweet Elysium .
+To die by thee , were but to die in jest ;
+From thee to die were torture more than death .
+O ! let me stay , befall what may befall !
+
+Away ! though parting be a fretful corsive ,
+It is applied to a deathful wound .
+To France , sweet Suffolk : let me hear from thee ;
+For wheresoe'er thou art in this world's globe ,
+I'll have an Iris that shall find thee out .
+
+I go .
+
+And take my heart with thee .
+
+A jewel , lock'd into the woefull'st cask
+That ever did contain a thing of worth .
+Even as a splitted bark , so sunder we :
+This way fall I to death .
+
+This way for me .
+
+
+How fares my lord ? speak , Beaufort , to thy sovereign .
+
+If thou be'st death , I'll give thee England's treasure ,
+Enough to purchase such another island ,
+So thou wilt let me live , and feel no pain .
+
+Ah ! what a sign it is of evil life
+Where death's approach is seen so terrible .
+
+Beaufort , it is thy sov'reign speaks to thee .
+
+Bring me unto my trial when you will .
+Died he not in his bed ? where should he die ?
+Can I make men live whe'r they will or no ?
+O ! torture me no more , I will confess .
+Alive again ? then show me where he is :
+I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him .
+He hath no eyes , the dust hath blinded them .
+Comb down his hair ; look ! look ! it stands upright ,
+Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul .
+Give me some drink ; and bid the apothecary
+Bring the strong poison that I bought of him .
+
+O thou eternal Mover of the heavens !
+Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch ;
+O ! beat away the busy meddling fiend
+That lays strong siege unto this wretch's soul ,
+And from his bosom purge this black despair .
+
+See how the pangs of death do make him grin !
+
+Disturb him not ! let him pass peaceably .
+
+Peace to his soul , if God's good pleasure be !
+Lord Cardinal , if thou think'st on heaven's bliss ,
+Hold up thy hand , make signal of thy hope .
+He dies , and makes no sign . O God , forgive him !
+
+So bad a death argues a monstrous life .
+
+Forbear to judge , for we are sinners all .
+Close up his eyes , and draw the curtain close ;
+And let us all to meditation .
+
+The gaudy , blabbing , and remorseful day
+Is crept into the bosom of the sea ,
+And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades
+That drag the tragic melancholy night ;
+Who with their drowsy , slow , and flagging wings
+Clip dead men's graves , and from their misty jaws
+Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air .
+Therefore bring forth the soldiers of our prize ,
+For , whilst our pinnace anchors in the Downs
+Here shall they make their ransom on the sand ,
+Or with their blood stain this discolour'd shore .
+Master , this prisoner freely give I thee :
+And thou that art his mate make boot of this ;
+The other
+
+, Walter Whitmore , is thy share .
+
+What is my ransom , master ? let me know .
+
+A thousand crowns , or else lay down your head .
+
+And so much shall you give , or off goes yours .
+
+What ! think you much to pay two thousand crowns ,
+And bear the name and port of gentlemen ?
+Cut both the villains' throats ! for die you shall :
+The lives of those which we have lost in fight
+Cannot be counterpois'd with such a petty sum !
+
+I'll give it , sir ; and therefore spare my life .
+
+And so will I , and write home for it straight .
+
+I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboard ,
+
+
+And therefore to revenge it shalt thou die ;
+And so should these if I might have my will .
+
+Be not so rash : take ransom ; let him live .
+
+Look on my George ; I am a gentleman :
+Rate me at what thou wilt , thou shalt be paid .
+
+And so am I ; my name is Walter Whitmore .
+How now ! why start'st thou ? what ! doth death affright ?
+
+Thy name affrights me , in whose sound is death .
+A cunning man did calculate my birth ,
+And told me that by Water I should die :
+Yet let not this make thee be bloody-minded ;
+Thy name is Gaultier , being rightly sounded .
+
+Gaultier , or Walter , which it is I care not ;
+Never yet did base dishonour blur our name
+But with our sword we wip'd away the blot :
+Therefore , when merchant-like I sell revenge ,
+Broke be my sword , my arms torn and defac'd ,
+And I proclaim'd a coward through the world !
+
+
+Stay , Whitmore ; for thy prisoner is a prince ,
+The Duke of Suffolk , William de la Pole .
+
+The Duke of Suffolk muffled up in rags !
+
+Ay , but these rags are no part of the duke :
+Jove sometimes went disguis'd , and why not I ?
+
+But Jove was never slain , as thou shalt be .
+
+Obscure and lowly swain , King Henry's blood ,
+The honourable blood of Lancaster ,
+Must not be shed by such a jaded groom .
+Hast thou not kiss'd thy hand and held my stirrup ?
+Bare-headed plodded by my foot-cloth mule ,
+And thought thee happy when I shook my head ?
+How often hast thou waited at my cup ,
+Fed from my trencher , kneel'd down at the board ,
+When I have feasted with Queen Margaret ?
+Remember it and let it make thee crest-fall'n ;
+Ay , and allay this thy abortive pride .
+How in our voiding lobby hast thou stood
+And duly waited for my coming forth ?
+This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalf ,
+And therefore shall it charm thy riotous tongue .
+
+Speak , captain , shall I stab the forlorn swain ?
+
+First let my words stab him , as he hath me .
+
+Base slave , thy words are blunt , and so art thou .
+
+Convey him hence , and on our longboat's side
+Strike off his head .
+
+Thou dar'st not for thy own .
+
+Yes , Pole .
+
+Pole !
+
+Pool ! Sir Pool ! lord !
+Ay , kennel , puddle , sink ; whose filth and dirt
+Troubles the silver spring where England drinks .
+Now will I dam up this thy yawning mouth
+For swallowing the treasure of the realm :
+Thy lips , that kiss'd the queen , shall sweep the ground ;
+And thou , that smil'dst at good Duke Humphrey's death ,
+Against the senseless winds shall grin in vain ,
+Who in contempt shall hiss at thee again :
+And wedded be thou to the hags of hell ,
+For daring to affy a mighty lord
+Unto the daughter of a worthless king ,
+Having neither subject , wealth , nor diadem .
+By devilish policy art thou grown great ,
+And , like ambitious Sylla , overgorg'd
+With gobbets of thy mother's bleeding heart .
+By thee Anjou and Maine were sold to France ,
+The false revolting Normans thorough thee
+Disdain to call us lord , and Picardy
+Hath slain their governors , surpris'd our forts ,
+And sent the ragged soldiers wounded home .
+The princely Warwick , and the Nevils all ,
+Whose dreadful swords were never drawn in vain ,
+As hating thee , are rising up in arms :
+And now the house of York , thrust from the crown
+By shameful murder of a guiltless king ,
+And lofty proud encroaching tyranny ,
+Burns with revenging fire ; whose hopeful colours
+Advance our half-fac'd sun , striving to shine ,
+Under the which is writ Invitis nubibus .
+The commons here in Kent are up in arms ;
+And to conclude , reproach and beggary
+Is crept into the palace of our king ,
+And all by thee . Away ! convey him hence .
+
+O ! that I were a god , to shoot forth thunder
+Upon these paltry , servile , abject drudges .
+Small things make base men proud : this villain here ,
+Being captain of a pinnace , threatens more
+Than Bargulus the strong Illyrian pirate .
+Drones suck not eagles' blood , but rob beehives .
+It is impossible that I should die
+By such a lowly vassal as thyself .
+Thy words move rage , and not remorse in me :
+I go of message from the queen to France ;
+I charge thee , waft me safely cross the Channel .
+
+Walter !
+
+Come , Suffolk , I must waft thee to thy death .
+
+Gelidus timor occupat artus : 'tis thee I fear .
+
+Thou shalt have cause to fear before I leave thee .
+What ! are ye daunted now ? now will ye stoop ?
+
+My gracious lord , entreat him , speak him fair .
+
+Suffolk's imperial tongue is stern and rough ,
+Us'd to command , untaught to plead for favour .
+Far be it we should honour such as these
+With humble suit : no , rather let my head
+Stoop to the block than these knees bow to any
+Save to the God of heaven , and to my king ;
+And sooner dance upon a bloody pole
+Than stand uncover'd to the vulgar groom .
+True nobility is exempt from fear :
+More can I bear than you dare execute .
+
+Hale him away , and let him talk no more .
+
+Come , soldiers , show what cruelty ye can ,
+That this my death may never be forgot .
+Great men oft die by vile bezonians .
+A Roman sworder and banditto slave
+Murder'd sweet Tully ; Brutus' bastard hand
+Stabb'd Julius C sar ; savage islanders
+Pompey the Great ; and Suffolk dies by pirates .
+
+
+And as for these whose ransom we have set ,
+It is our pleasure one of them depart :
+Therefore come you with us and let him go .
+
+There let his head and lifeless body lie ,
+Until the queen his mistress bury it .
+
+
+O barbarous and bloody spectacle !
+His body will I bear unto the king :
+If he revenge it not , yet will his friends ;
+So will the queen , that living held him dear .
+
+
+Come , and get thee a sword , though made of a lath : they have been up these two days .
+
+They have the more need to sleep now then .
+
+I tell thee , Jack Cade the clothier means to dress the commonwealth , and turn it , and set a new nap upon it .
+
+So he had need , for 'tis threadbare . Well , I say it was never merry world in England since gentlemen came up .
+
+O miserable age ! Virtue is not regarded in handicrafts-men .
+
+The nobility think scorn to go in leather aprons .
+
+Nay , more ; the king's council are no good workmen .
+
+True ; and yet it is said , 'Labour in thy vocation :' which is as much to say as , let the magistrates be labouring men ; and therefore should we be magistrates .
+
+Thou hast hit it ; for there's no better sign of a brave mind than a hard hand .
+
+I see them ! I see them ! There's Best's son , the tanner of Wingham ,
+
+He shall have the skins of our enemies to make dog's-leather of .
+
+And Dick the butcher ,
+
+Then is sin struck down like an ox , and iniquity's throat cut like a calf .
+
+And Smith the weaver ,
+
+Argo , their thread of life is spun .
+
+Come , come , let's fall in with them .
+
+
+We John Cade , so termed of our supposed father ,
+
+Or rather , of stealing a cade of herrings .
+
+For our enemies shall fall before us , inspired with the spirit of putting down kings and princes ,Command silence .
+
+Silence !
+
+My father was a Mortimer .
+
+He was an honest man , and a good bricklayer .
+
+My mother a Plantagenet ,
+
+I knew her well ; she was a midwife .
+
+My wife descended of the Lacies ,
+
+She was , indeed , a pedlar's daughter , and sold many laces .
+
+But now of late , not able to travel with her furred pack , she washes bucks here at home .
+
+Therefore am I of an honourable house .
+
+Ay , by my faith , the field is honourable ; and there was he born , under a hedge ; for his father had never a house but the cage .
+
+Valiant I am .
+
+A' must needs , for beggary is valiant .
+
+I am able to endure much .
+
+No question of that , for I have seen him whipped three market-days together .
+
+I fear neither sword nor fire .
+
+He need not fear the sword , for his coat is of proof .
+
+But methinks he should stand in fear of fire , being burnt i' the hand for stealing of sheep .
+
+Be brave , then ; for your captain is brave , and vows reformation . There shall be in England seven halfpenny loaves sold for a penny ; the three-hooped pot shall have ten hoops ; and I will make it felony to drink small beer . All the realm shall be in common , and in Cheapside shall my palfrey go to grass . And when I am king ,as king I will be ,
+
+God save your majesty !
+
+I thank you , good people : there shall be no money ; all shall eat and drink on my score , and I will apparel them all in one livery , that they may agree like brothers , and worship me their lord .
+
+The first thing we do , let's kill all the lawyers .
+
+Nay , that I mean to do . Is not this a lamentable thing , that of the skin of an innocent lamb should be made parchment ? that parchment , being scribbled o'er , should undo a man ? Some say the bee stings ; but I say , 'tis the bee's wax , for I did but seal once to a thing , and I was never mine own man since . How now ! who's there ?
+
+
+The clerk of Chatham : he can write and read and cast accompt .
+
+O monstrous !
+
+We took him setting of boys' copies .
+
+Here's a villain !
+
+Has a book in his pocket with red letters in't .
+
+Nay , then he is a conjurer .
+
+Nay , he can make obligations , and write court-hand .
+
+I am sorry for't : the man is a proper man , of mine honour ; unless I find him guilty , he shall not die . Come hither , sirrah , I must examine thee . What is thy name ?
+
+Emmanuel .
+
+They use to write it on the top of letters . 'Twill go hard with you .
+
+Let me alone . Dost thou use to write thy name , or hast thou a mark to thyself , like an honest plain-dealing man ?
+
+Sir , I thank God , I have been so well brought up , that I can write my name .
+
+He hath confessed : away with him ! he's a villain and a traitor .
+
+Away with him ! I say : hang him with his pen and ink-horn about his neck .
+
+Where's our general ?
+
+Here I am , thou particular fellow .
+
+Fly , fly , fly ! Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother are hard by , with the king's forces .
+
+Stand , villain , stand , or I'll fell thee down . He shall be encountered with a man as good as himself : he is but a knight , is a' ?
+
+No .
+
+To equal him , I will make myself a knight presently .
+
+Rise up Sir John Mortimer . [Rises .] Now have at him .
+
+
+Rebellious hinds , the filth and scum of Kent ,
+Mark'd for the gallows , lay your weapons down ;
+Home to your cottages , forsake this groom :
+The king is merciful , if you revolt .
+
+But angry , wrathful , and inclin'd to blood ,
+If you go forward : therefore yield , or die .
+
+As for these silken-coated slaves , I pass not :
+It is to you , good people , that I speak ,
+O'er whom , in time to come I hope to reign ;
+For I am rightful heir unto the crown .
+
+Villain ! thy father was a plasterer ;
+And thou thyself a shearman , art thou not ?
+
+And Adam was a gardener .
+
+And what of that ?
+
+Marry , this : Edmund Mortimer , Earl of March ,
+Married the Duke of Clarence' daughter , did he not ?
+
+Ay , sir .
+
+By her he had two children at one birth .
+
+That's false .
+
+Ay , there's the question ; but I say , 'tis true :
+The elder of them , being put to nurse ,
+Was by a beggar-woman stol'n away ;
+And , ignorant of his birth and parentage ,
+Became a bricklayer when he came to age :
+His son am I ; deny it if you can .
+
+Nay , 'tis too true ; therefore he shall be king .
+
+Sir , he made a chimney in my father's house , and the bricks are alive at this day to testify it ; therefore deny it not .
+
+And will you credit this base drudge's words ,
+That speaks he knows not what ?
+
+Ay , marry , will we ; therefore get ye gone .
+
+Jack Cade , the Duke of York hath taught you this .
+
+He lies , for I invented it myself . Go to , sirrah ; tell the king from me , that , for his father's sake , Henry the Fifth , in whose time boys went to span-counter for French crowns , I am content he shall reign ; but I'll be protector over him .
+
+And furthermore , we'll have the Lord Say's head for selling the dukedom of Maine .
+
+And good reason ; for thereby is England mained , and fain to go with a staff , but that my puissance holds it up . Fellow kings , I tell you that that Lord Say hath gelded the commonwealth , and made it a eunuch ; and more than that , he can speak French ; and therefore he is a traitor .
+
+O gross and miserable ignorance !
+
+Nay , answer , if you can : the Frenchmen are our enemies ; go to then , I ask but this , can he that speaks with the tongue of an enemy be a good counsellor , or no ?
+
+No , no ; and therefore we'll have his head .
+
+Well , seeing gentle words will not prevail ,
+Assail them with the army of the king .
+
+Herald , away ; and throughout every town
+Proclaim them traitors that are up with Cade ;
+That those which fly before the battle ends
+May , even in their wives' and children's sight ,
+Be hang'd up for example at their doors :
+And you , that be the king's friends , follow me .
+
+
+And you , that love the commons , follow me .
+Now show yourselves men ; 'tis for liberty .
+We will not leave one lord , one gentleman :
+Spare none but such as go in clouted shoon ,
+For they are thrifty honest men , and such
+As would , but that they dare not take our parts .
+
+They are all in order , and march toward us .
+
+But then are we in order when we are most out of order . Come , march ! forward !
+
+
+Where's Dick , the butcher of Ashford ?
+
+Here , sir .
+
+They fell before thee like sheep and oxen , and thou behavedst thyself as if thou hadst been in thine own slaughter-house : therefore thus will I reward thee , the Lent shall be as long again as it is ; and thou shalt have a licence to kill for a hundred lacking one .
+
+I desire no more .
+
+And , to speak truth , thou deservest no less . This monument of the victory will I bear ;
+
+and the bodies shall be dragged at my horse' heels , till I do come to London , where we will have the Mayor's sword borne before us .
+
+If we mean to thrive and do good , break open the gaols and let out the prisoners .
+
+Fear not that , I warrant thee . Come ; let's march towards London .
+
+
+Oft have I heard that grief softens the mind ,
+And makes it fearful and degenerate ;
+Think therefore on revenge , and cease to weep .
+But who can cease to weep and look on this ?
+Here may his head lie on my throbbing breast ;
+But where's the body that I should embrace ?
+
+What answer makes your Grace to the rebels' supplication ?
+
+I'll send some holy bishop to entreat ;
+For God forbid so many simple souls
+Should perish by the sword ! And I myself ,
+Rather than bloody war shall cut them short ,
+Will parley with Jack Cade their general .
+But stay , I'll read it over once again .
+
+Ah , barbarous villains ! hath this lovely face
+Rul'd like a wandering planet over me ,
+And could it not enforce them to relent ,
+That were unworthy to behold the same ?
+
+Lord Say , Jack Cade hath sworn to have thy head .
+
+Ay , but I hope your highness shall have his .
+
+How now , madam !
+Still lamenting and mourning for Suffolk's death ?
+I fear me , love , if that I had been dead ,
+Thou wouldest not have mourn'd so much for me .
+
+No , my love ; I should not mourn , but die for thee .
+
+
+How now ! what news ? why com'st thou in such haste ?
+
+The rebels are in Southwark ; fly , my lord !
+Jack Cade proclaims himself Lord Mortimer ,
+Descended from the Duke of Clarence' house ,
+And calls your Grace usurper openly ,
+And vows to crown himself in Westminster .
+His army is a ragged multitude
+Of hinds and peasants , rude and merciless :
+Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother's death
+Hath given them heart and courage to proceed .
+All scholars , lawyers , courtiers , gentlemen ,
+They call false caterpillars , and intend their death .
+
+O graceless men ! they know not what they do .
+
+My gracious lord , retire to Killingworth ,
+Until a power be rais'd to put them down .
+
+Ah ! were the Duke of Suffolk now alive ,
+These Kentish rebels would be soon appeas'd .
+
+Lord Say , the traitors hate thee ,
+Therefore away with us to Killingworth .
+
+So might your Grace's person be in danger .
+The sight of me is odious in their eyes ;
+And therefore in this city will I stay ,
+And live alone as secret as I may .
+
+
+Jack Cade hath gotten London bridge ;
+The citizens fly and forsake their houses ;
+The rascal people , thirsting after prey ,
+Join with the traitor ; and they jointly swear
+To spoil the city and your royal court .
+
+Then linger not , my lord ; away ! take horse .
+
+Come , Margaret ; God , our hope , will succour us .
+
+My hope is gone , now Suffolk is deceas'd .
+
+Farewell , my lord : trust not the Kentish rebels .
+
+Trust nobody , for fear you be betray'd .
+
+The trust I have is in mine innocence ,
+And therefore am I bold and resolute .
+
+
+How now ! is Jack Cade slain ?
+
+No , my lord , nor likely to be slain ; for they have won the bridge , killing all those that withstand them . The Lord Mayor craves aid of your honour from the Tower , to defend the city from the rebels .
+
+Such aid as I can spare you shall command ;
+But I am troubled here with them myself ;
+The rebels have assay'd to win the Tower .
+But get you to Smithfield and gather head ,
+And thither I will send you Matthew Goffe :
+Fight for your king , your country , and your lives ;
+And so , farewell , for I must hence again .
+
+
+Now is Mortimer lord of this city . And here , sitting upon London-stone , I charge and command that , of the city's cost , the pissing-conduit run nothing but claret wine this first year of our reign . And now , henceforward , it shall be treason for any that calls me other than Lord Mortimer .
+
+
+Jack Cade ! Jack Cade !
+
+Knock him down there .
+
+
+If this fellow be wise , he'll never call you Jack Cade more : I think he hath a very fair warning .
+
+My lord , there's an army gathered together in Smithfield .
+
+Come then , let's go fight with them . But first , go and set London-bridge on fire , and , if you can , burn down the Tower too . Come , let's away .
+
+
+So , sirs :Now go some and pull down the Savoy ; others to the inns of court : down with them all .
+
+I have a suit unto your lordship .
+
+Be it a lordship , thou shalt have it for that word .
+
+Only that the laws of England may come out of your mouth .
+
+Mass , 'twill be sore law then ; for he was thrust in the mouth with a spear , and 'tis not whole yet .
+
+Nay , John , it will be stinking law ; for his breath stinks with eating toasted cheese .
+
+I have thought upon it ; it shall be so . Away ! burn all the records of the realm : my mouth shall be the parliament of England .
+
+Then we are like to have biting statutes , unless his teeth be pulled out .
+
+And henceforward all things shall be in common .
+
+
+My lord , a prize , a prize ! here's the Lord Say , which sold the towns in France ; he that made us pay one-and-twenty fifteens , and one shilling to the pound , the last subsidy .
+
+
+Well , he shall be beheaded for it ten times . Ah ! thou say , thou serge , nay , thou buckram lord ; now art thou within pointblank of our jurisdiction regal . What canst thou answer to my majesty for giving up of Normandy unto Monsieur Basimecu , the Dauphin of France ? Be it known unto thee by these presence , even the presence of Lord Mortimer , that I am the besom that must sweep the court clean of such filth as thou art . Thou hast most traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm in erecting a grammar-school ; and whereas , before , our fore-fathers had no other books but the score and the tally , thou hast caused printing to be used ; and , contrary to the king , his crown , and dignity , thou hast built a paper-mill . It will be proved to thy face that thou hast men about thee that usually talk of a noun and a verb , and such abominable words as no Christian car can endure to hear . Thou hast appointed justices of peace , to call poor men before them about matters they were not able to answer . Moreover , thou hast put them in prison ; and because they could not read , thou hast hanged them ; when indeed only for that cause they have been most worthy to live . Thou dost ride on a foot-cloth , dost thou not ?
+
+What of that ?
+
+Marry , thou oughtest not to let thy horse wear a cloak , when honester men than thou go in their hose and doublets .
+
+And work in their shirt too ; as myself , for example , that am a butcher .
+
+You men of Kent ,
+
+What say you of Kent ?
+
+Nothing but this : 'tis bona terra , mala gens .
+
+Away with him ! away with him ! he speaks Latin .
+
+Hear me but speak , and bear me where you will .
+Kent , in the Commentaries C sar writ ,
+Is term'd the civil'st place of all this isle :
+Sweet is the country , because full of riches ;
+The people liberal , valiant , active , wealthy ;
+Which makes me hope you are not void of pity .
+I sold not Maine , I lost not Normandy ;
+Yet , to recover them , would lose my life .
+Justice with favour have I always done ;
+Prayers and tears have mov'd me , gifts could never .
+When have I aught exacted at your hands ,
+But to maintain the king , the realm , and you ?
+Large gifts have I bestow'd on learned clerks ,
+Because my book preferr'd me to the king ,
+And seeing ignorance is the curse of God ,
+Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven ,
+Unless you be possess'd with devilish spirits ,
+You cannot but forbear to murder me :
+This tongue hath parley'd unto foreign kings
+For your behoof ,
+
+Tut ! when struck'st thou one blow in the field ?
+
+Great men have reaching hands : oft have I struck
+Those that I never saw , and struck them dead .
+
+O monstrous coward ! what , to come behind folks !
+
+These cheeks are pale for watching for your good .
+
+Give him a box o' the ear , and that will make 'em red again .
+
+Long sitting , to determine poor men's causes ,
+Hath made me full of sickness and diseases .
+
+Ye shall have a hempen caudle then , and the help of hatchet .
+
+Why dost thou quiver , man ?.
+
+The palsy , and not fear , provokes me .
+
+Nay , he nods at us ; as who should say , I'll be even with you : I'll see if his head will stand steadier on a pole , or no . Take him away and behead him .
+
+Tell me wherein have I offended most ?
+Have I affected wealth , or honour ? speak .
+Are my chests fill'd up with extorted gold ?
+Is my apparel sumptuous to behold ?
+Whom have I injur'd , that ye seek my death ?
+These hands are free from guiltless bloodshedding ,
+This breast from harbouring foul deceitful thoughts .
+O ! let me live .
+
+I feel remorse in myself with his words ; but I'll bridle it : he shall die , an it be but for pleading so well for his life . Away with him ! he has a familiar under his tongue ; he speaks not o' God's name . Go , take him away , I say , and strike off his head presently ; and then break into his son-in-law's house , Sir James Cromer , and strike off his head , and bring them both upon two poles hither .
+
+It shall be done .
+
+Ah , countrymen ! if when you make your prayers ,
+God should be so obdurate as yourselves ,
+How would it fare with your departed souls ?
+And therefore yet relent , and save my life .
+
+Away with him ! and do as I command ye .
+
+The proudest peer in the realm shall not wear a head on his shoulders , unless he pay me tribute ; there shall not a maid be married , but she shall pay to me her maidenhead , ere they have it ; men shall hold of me in capite ; and we charge and command that their wives be as free as heart can wish or tongue can tell .
+
+My lord , when shall we go to Cheapside and take up commodities upon our bills ?
+
+Marry , presently .
+
+O ! brave !
+
+
+But is not this braver ? Let them kiss one another , for they loved well when they were alive . Now part them again , lest they consult about the giving up of some more towns in France . Soldiers , defer the spoil of the city until night : for with these borne before us , instead of maces , will we ride through the streets ; and at every corner have them kiss . Away !
+
+
+Up Fish Street ! down St . Magnus' corner ! kill and knock down ! throw them into Thames ! [A parley sounded , then a retreat .] What noise is this I hear ? Dare any be so bold to sound retreat or parley , when I command them kill ?
+
+
+Ay , here they be that dare and will disturb thee .
+Know , Cade , we come ambassadors from the king
+Unto the commons whom thou hast misled ;
+And here pronounce free pardon to them all
+That will forsake thee and go home in peace .
+
+What say ye , countrymen ? will ye relent ,
+And yield to mercy , whilst 'tis offer'd you ,
+Or let a rebel lead you to your deaths ?
+Who loves the king , and will embrace his pardon ,
+Fling up his cap , and say 'God save his majesty !'
+Who hateth him , and honours not his father ,
+Henry the Fifth , that made all France to quake ,
+Shake he his weapon at us , and pass by .
+
+God save the king ! God save the king !
+
+What ! Buckingham and Clifford , are ye so brave ? And you , base peasants , do ye believe him ? will you needs be hanged with your pardons about your necks ? Hath my sword therefore broke through London Gates , that you should leave me at the White Hart in Southwark ? I thought ye would never have given out these arms till you had recovered your ancient freedom ; but you are all recreants and dastards , and delight to live in slavery to the nobility . Let them break your backs with burdens , take your houses over your heads , ravish your wives and daughters before your faces : for me , I will make shift for one , and so , God's curse light upon you all !
+
+We'll follow Cade , we'll follow Cade !
+
+Is Cade the son of Henry the Fifth ,
+That thus you do exclaim you'll go with him ?
+Will he conduct you through the heart of France ,
+And make the meanest of you earls and dukes ?
+Alas ! he hath no home , no place to fly to ;
+Nor knows he how to live but by the spoil ,
+Unless by robbing of your friends and us .
+Were't not a shame , that whilst you live at jar ,
+The fearful French , whom you late vanquished ,
+Should make a start o'er seas and vanquish you ?
+Methinks already in this civil broil
+I see them lording it in London streets ,
+Crying Villiago ! unto all they meet .
+Better ten thousand base-born Cades miscarry ,
+Than you should stoop unto a Frenchman's mercy .
+To France , to France ! and get what you have lost ;
+Spare England , for it is your native coast .
+Henry hath money , you are strong and manly ;
+God on our side , doubt not of victory .
+
+A Clifford ! a Clifford ! we'll follow the king and Clifford .
+
+Was ever feather so lightly blown to and fro as this multitude ? The name of Henry the Fifth hales them to a hundred mischiefs , and makes them leave me desolate . I see them lay their heads together to surprise me . My sword make way for me , for here is no staying . In despite of the devils and hell , have through the very middest of you ! and heavens and honour be witness , that no want of resolution in me , but only my followers' base and ignominious treasons , makes me betake me to my heels .
+
+
+What , is he fled ? go some , and follow him ;
+And he that brings his head unto the king
+Shall have a thousand crowns for his reward .
+
+Follow me , soldiers : we'll devise a mean
+To reconcile you all unto the king .
+
+
+Was ever king that joy'd an earthly throne ,
+And could command no more content than I ?
+No sooner was I crept out of my cradle
+But I was made a king at nine months old :
+Was never subject long'd to be a king
+As I do long and wish to be a subject .
+
+
+Health , and glad tidings , to your majesty !
+
+Why , Buckingham , is the traitor Cade surpris'd ?
+Or is he but retir'd to make him strong ?
+
+
+He's fled , my lord , and all his powers do yield ;
+And humbly thus , with halters on their necks ,
+Expect your highness' doom , of life , or death .
+
+Then , heaven , set ope thy everlasting gates ,
+To entertain my vows of thanks and praise !
+Soldiers , this day have you redeem'd your lives ,
+And show'd how well you love your prince and country :
+Continue still in this so good a mind ,
+And Henry , though he be infortunate ,
+Assure yourselves , will never be unkind :
+And so , with thanks and pardon to you all ,
+I do dismiss you to your several countries .
+
+God save the king ! God save the king !
+
+
+Please it your Grace to be advertised ,
+The Duke of York is newly come from Ireland ;
+And with a puissant and a mighty power
+Of Gallowglasses , and stout kerns ,
+Is marching hitherward in proud array ;
+And still proclaimeth , as he comes along ,
+His arms are only to remove from thee
+The Duke of Somerset , whom he terms a traitor .
+
+Thus stands my state , 'twixt Cade and York distress'd ;
+Like to a ship , that , having scap'd a tempest ,
+Is straight way calm'd , and boarded with a pirate .
+But now is Cade driven back , his men dispers'd ;
+And now is York in arms to second him .
+I pray thee , Buckingham , go and meet him ,
+And ask him what's the reason of these arms .
+Tell him I'll send Duke Edmund to the Tower ;
+And , Somerset , we will commit thee thither ,
+Until his army be dismiss'd from him .
+
+My lord ,
+I'll yield myself to prison willingly ,
+Or unto death , to do my country good .
+
+In any case , be not too rough in terms ;
+For he is fierce and cannot brook hard language .
+
+I will , my lord ; and doubt not so to deal
+As all things shall redound unto your good .
+
+Come , wife , let's in , and learn to govern better ;
+For yet may England curse my wretched reign .
+
+Fie on ambition ! fie on myself , that have a sword , and yet am ready to famish ! These five days have I hid me in these woods and durst not peep out , for all the country is laid for me ; but now I am so hungry , that if I might have a lease of my life for a thousand years I could stay no longer . Wherefore , on a brick wall have I climbed into this garden , to see if I can eat grass , or pick a sallet another while , which is not amiss to cool a man's stomach this hot weather . And I think this word 'sallet' was born to do me good : for many a time , but for a sallet , my brain-pan had been cleft with a brown bill ; and many a time , when I have been dry , and bravely marching , it hath served me instead of a quart-pot to drink in ; and now the word 'sallet' must serve me to feed on .
+
+
+Lord ! who would live turmoiled in the court ,
+And may enjoy such quiet walks as these ?
+This small inheritance my father left me
+Contenteth me , and worth a monarchy .
+I seek not to wax great by others' waning ,
+Or gather wealth I care not with what envy :
+Sufficeth that I have maintains my state ,
+And sends the poor well pleased from my gate .
+
+Here's the lord of the soil come to seize me for a stray , for entering his fee-simple without leave . Ah , villain ! thou wilt betray me , and get a thousand crowns of the king by carrying my head to him ; but I'll make thee eat iron like an ostrich , and swallow my sword like a great pin , ere thou and I part .
+
+Why , rude companion , whatsoe'er thou be ,
+I know thee not ; why then should I betray thee ?
+Is't not enough to break into my garden ,
+And like a thief to come to rob my grounds ,
+Climbing my walls in spite of me the owner ,
+But thou wilt brave me with these saucy terms ?
+
+Brave thee ! ay , by the best blood that ever was broached , and beard thee too . Look on me well : I have eat no meat these five days ; yet , come thou and thy five men , and if I do not leave you all as dead as a door-nail , I pray God I may never eat grass more .
+
+Nay , it shall ne'er be said , while England stands ,
+That Alexander Iden , an esquire of Kent ,
+Took odds to combat a poor famish'd man .
+Oppose thy steadfast-gazing eyes to mine ,
+See if thou canst out-face me with thy looks :
+Set limb to limb , and thou art far the lesser ;
+Thy hand is but a finger to my fist ;
+Thy leg a stick compared with this truncheon ;
+My foot shall fight with all the strength thou hast ;
+And if mine arm be heaved in the air
+Thy grave is digg'd already in the earth .
+As for more words , whose greatness answers words ,
+Let this my sword report what speech forbears .
+
+By my valour , the most complete champion that ever I heard ! Steel , if thou turn the edge , or cut not out the burly-boned clown in chines of beef ere thou sleep in thy sheath , I beseech Jove on my knees , thou mayst be turned to hobnails .
+
+O , I am slain ! Famine and no other hath slain me : let ten thousand devils come against me , and give me but the ten meals I have lost , and I'll defy them all . Wither , garden ; and be henceforth a burying-place to all that do dwell in this house , because the unconquered soul of Cade is fled .
+
+Is't Cade that I have slain , that monstrous traitor ?
+Sword , I will hallow thee for this thy deed ,
+And hang thee o'er my tomb when I am dead :
+Ne'er shall this blood be wiped from thy point ,
+But thou shalt wear it as a herald's coat ,
+To emblaze the honour that thy master got .
+
+Iden , farewell ; and be proud of thy victory . Tell Kent from me , she hath lost her best man , and exhort all the world to be cowards ; for I , that never feared any , am vanquished by famine , not by valour .
+
+
+How much thou wrong'st me , heaven be my judge .
+Die , damned wretch , the curse of her that bare thee !
+And as I thrust thy body in with my sword ,
+So wish I I might thrust thy soul to hell .
+Hence will I drag thee headlong by the heels
+Unto a dunghill which shall be thy grave ,
+And there cut off thy most ungracious head ;
+Which I will bear in triumph to the king ,
+Leaving thy trunk for crows to feed upon .
+
+
+From Ireland thus comes York to claim his right ,
+And pluck the crown from feeble Henry's head :
+Ring , bells , aloud ; burn , bonfires , clear and bright ,
+To entertain great England's lawful king .
+Ah sancta majestas , who would not buy thee dear ?
+Let them obey that know not how to rule ;
+This hand was made to handle nought but gold :
+I cannot give due action to my words ,
+Except a sword , or sceptre balance it .
+A sceptre shall it have , have I-a soul ,
+On which I'll toss the flower-de-luce of France .
+
+
+Whom have we here ? Buckingham , to disturb me ?
+
+The king hath sent him , sure : I must dissemble .
+
+York , if thou meanest well , I greet thee well .
+
+Humphrey of Buckingham , I accept thy greeting .
+Art thou a messenger , or come of pleasure ?
+
+A messenger from Henry , our dread hege ,
+To know the reason of these arms in peace ;
+Or why thou ,being a subject as I am ,
+Against thy oath and true allegiance sworn ,
+Shouldst raise so great a power without his leave ,
+Or dare to bring thy force so near the court .
+
+Scarce can I speak , my choler is so great :
+O ! I could hew up rocks and fight with flint ,
+I am so angry at these abject terms ;
+And now , like Ajax Telamonius ,
+On sheep or oxen could I spend my fury .
+I am far better born than is the king ,
+More like a king , more kingly in my thoughts ;
+But I must make fair weather yet awhile ,
+Till Henry be more weak , and I more strong .
+
+
+Buckingham , I prithee , pardon me ,
+That I have given no answer all this while ;
+My mind was troubled with deep melancholy .
+The cause why I have brought this army hither
+Is to remove proud Somerset from the king ,
+Seditious to his Grace and to the state .
+
+That is too much presumption on thy part :
+But if thy arms be to no other end ,
+The king hath yielded unto thy demand :
+The Duke of Somerset is in the Tower .
+
+Upon thine honour , is he a prisoner ?
+
+Upon mine honour , he is a prisoner .
+
+Then , Buckingham , I do dismiss my powers .
+Soldiers , I thank you all ; disperse yourselves ;
+Meet me to-morrow in Saint George's field ,
+You shall have pay , and everything you wish ,
+And let my sov'reign , virtuous Henry ,
+Command my eldest son , nay , all my sons ,
+As pledges of my fealty and love ;
+I'll send them all as willing as I live :
+Lands , goods , horse , armour , anything I have
+Is his to use , so Somerset may die .
+
+York , I commend this kind submission :
+We twain will go into his highness' tent .
+
+
+Buckingham , doth York intend no harm to us ,
+That thus he marcheth with thee arm in arm ?
+
+In all submission and humility
+York doth present himself unto your highness .
+
+Then what intend these forces thou dost bring ?
+
+To heave the traitor Somerset from hence ,
+And fight against that monstrous rebel , Cade ,
+Who since I heard to be discomfited .
+
+
+If one so rude and of so mean condition
+May pass into the presence of a king ,
+Lo ! I present your Grace a traitor's head ,
+The head of Cade , whom I in combat slew .
+
+The head of Cade ! Great God , how just art thou !
+O ! let me view his visage , being dead ,
+That living wrought me such exceeding trouble .
+Tell me , my friend , art thou the man that slew him ?
+
+I was , an't like your majesty .
+
+How art thou call'd , and what is thy degree ?
+
+Alexander Iden , that's my name ;
+A poor esquire of Kent , that loves his king .
+
+So please it you , my lord , 'twere not amiss
+He were created knight for his good service .
+
+Iden , kneel down .
+
+Rise up a knight .
+We give thee for reward a thousand marks ;
+And will , that thou henceforth attend on us .
+
+May Iden live to merit such a bounty ,
+And never live but true unto his liege !
+
+See ! Buckingham ! Somerset comes with the queen :
+Go , bid her hide him quickly from the duke .
+
+
+For thousand Yorks he shall not hide his head ,
+But boldly stand and front him to his face .
+
+How now ! is Somerset at liberty ?
+Then , York , unloose thy long-imprison'd thoughts
+And let thy tongue be equal with thy heart .
+Shall I endure the sight of Somerset ?
+False king ! why hast thou broken faith with me ,
+Knowing how hardly I can brook abuse ?
+King did I call thee ? no , thou art not king ;
+Not fit to govern and rule multitudes ,
+Which dar'st not , no , nor canst not rule a traitor .
+That head of thine doth not become a crown ;
+Thy hand is made to grasp a palmer's staff ,
+And not to grace an awful princely sceptre .
+That gold must round engirt these brows of mine ,
+Whose smile and frown , like to Achilles' spear ,
+Is able with the change to kill and cure .
+Here is a hand to hold a sceptre up ,
+And with the same to act controlling laws .
+Give place : by heaven , thou shalt rule no more
+O'er him whom heaven created for thy ruler .
+
+O monstrous traitor :I arrest thee , York ,
+Of capital treason 'gainst the king and crown .
+Obey , audacious traitor ; kneel for grace .
+
+Wouldst have me kneel ? first let me ask of these
+If they can brook I bow a knee to man .
+Sirrah , call in my sons to be my bail :
+
+I know ere they will have me go to ward ,
+They'll pawn their swords for my enfranchisement .
+
+Call hither Clifford ; bid him come amain ,
+To say if that the bastard boys of York
+Shall be the surety for their traitor father .
+
+
+O blood-bespotted Neapolitan ,
+Outcast of Naples , England's bloody scourge !
+The sons of York , thy betters in their birth ,
+Shall be their father's bail ; and bane to those
+That for my surety will refuse the boys !
+
+
+See where they come : I'll warrant they'll make it good .
+
+And here comes Clifford , to deny their bail .
+
+Health and all happiness to my lord the king !
+
+I thank thee , Clifford : say , what news with thee ?
+Nay , do not fright us with an angry look :
+We are thy sov'reign , Clifford , kneel again ;
+For thy mistaking so , we pardon thee .
+
+This is my king , York , I do not mistake ;
+But thou mistak'st me much to think I do .
+To Bedlam with him ! is the man grown mad ?
+
+Ay , Clifford ; a bedlam and ambitious humour
+Makes him oppose himself against his king .
+
+He is a traitor ; let him to the Tower ,
+And chop away that factious pate of his .
+
+He is arrested , but will not obey :
+His sons , he says , shall give their words for him .
+
+Will you not , sons ?
+
+Ay , noble father , if our words will serve .
+
+And if words will not , then our weapons shall .
+
+Why , what a brood of traitors have we here !
+
+Look in a glass , and call thy image so :
+I am thy king , and thou a false-heart traitor .
+Call hither to the stake my two brave bears ,
+That with the very shaking of their chains
+They may astonish these fell-lurking curs :
+Bid Salisbury and Warwick come to me .
+
+
+Are these thy bears ? we'll bait thy bears to death ,
+And manacle the bear-ward in their chains ,
+If thou dar'st bring them to the baiting-place .
+
+Oft have I seen a hot o'erweening cur
+Run back and bite , because he was withheld ;
+Who , being suffer'd with the bear's fell paw ,
+Hath clapp'd his tail between his legs , and cried :
+And such a piece of service will you do ,
+If you oppose yourselves to match Lord Warwick .
+
+Hence , heap of wrath , foul indigested lump ,
+As crooked in thy manners as thy shape !
+
+Nay , we shall heat you thoroughly anon .
+
+Take heed , lest by your heat you burn yourselves .
+
+Why , Warwick , hath thy knee forgot to bow ?
+Old Salisbury , shame to thy silver hair ,
+Thou mad misleader of thy brain-sick son !
+What ! wilt thou on thy death-bed play the ruffian ,
+And seek for sorrow with thy spectacles ?
+O ! where is faith ? O , where is loyalty ?
+If it be banish'd from the frosty head ,
+Where shall it find a harbour in the earth ?
+Wilt thou go dig a grave to find out war ,
+And shame thine honourable age with blood ?
+Why art thou old , and want'st experience ?
+Or wherefore dost abuse it , if thou hast it ?
+For shame ! in duty bend thy knee to me ,
+That bows unto the grave with mickle age .
+
+My lord , I have consider'd with myself
+The title of this most renowned duke ;
+And in my conscience do repute his Grace
+The rightful heir to England's royal seat .
+
+Hast thou not sworn allegiance unto me ?
+
+I have .
+
+Canst thou dispense with heaven for such an oath ?
+
+It is great sin to swear unto a sin ,
+But greater sin to keep a sinful oath .
+Who can be bound by any solemn vow
+To do a murderous deed , to rob a man ,
+To force a spotless virgin's chastity ,
+To reave the orphan of his patrimony ,
+To wring the widow from her custom'd right ,
+And have no other reason for this wrong
+But that he was bound by a solemn oath ?
+
+A subtle traitor needs no sophister .
+
+Call Buckingham , and bid him arm himself .
+
+Call Buckingham , and all the friends thou hast ,
+I am resolv'd for death , or dignity .
+
+The first I warrant thee , if dreams prove true .
+
+You were best to go to bed and dream again ,
+To keep thee from the tempest of the field .
+
+I am resolv'd to bear a greater storm
+Than any thou canst conjure up to-day ;
+And that I'll write upon thy burgonet ,
+Might I but know thee by thy household badge .
+
+Now , by my father's badge , old Nevil's crest ,
+The rampant bear chain'd to the ragged staff ,
+This day I'll wear aloft my burgonet ,
+As on a mountain-top the cedar shows ,
+That keeps his leaves in spite of any storm ,
+Even to affright thee with the view thereof .
+
+And from thy burgonet I'll rend thy bear ,
+And tread it underfoot with all contempt ,
+Despite the bear-ward that protects the bear .
+
+And so to arms , victorious father ,
+To quell the rebels and their complices .
+
+Fie ! charity ! for shame ! speak not in spite ,
+For you shall sup with Jesu Christ to-night .
+
+Foul stigmatic , that's more than thou canst tell .
+
+If not in heaven , you'll surely sup in hell .
+
+
+Clifford of Cumberland , 'tis Warwick calls :
+And if thou dost not hide thee from the bear ,
+Now , when the angry trumpet sounds alarm ,
+And dead men's cries do fill the empty air ,
+Clifford , I say , come forth , and fight with me !
+Proud northern lord , Clifford of Cumberland ,
+Warwick is hoarse with calling thee to arms .
+
+How now , my noble lord ! what ! all afoot ?
+
+The deadly-handed Clifford slew my steed ;
+But match to match I have encounter'd him ,
+And made a prey for carrion kites and crows
+Even of the bonny beast he lov'd so well .
+
+
+Of one or both of us the time is come .
+
+Hold , Warwick ! seek thee out some other chase ,
+For I myself must hunt this deer to death .
+
+Then , nobly , York ; 'tis for a crown thou fight'st .
+As I intend , Clifford , to thrive to-day ,
+It grieves my soul to leave thee unassail'd .
+
+
+What seest thou in me , York ? why dost thou pause ?
+
+With thy brave bearing should I be in love ,
+But that thou art so fast mine enemy .
+
+Nor should thy prowess want praise and esteem ,
+But that 'tis shown ignobly and in treason .
+
+So let it help me now against thy sword
+As I in justice and true right express it .
+
+My soul and body on the action both !
+
+A dreadful lay ! address thee instantly .
+
+La fin couronne les uvres .
+
+
+Thus war hath given thee peace , for thou art still .
+Peace with his soul , heaven , if it be thy will !
+
+Shame and confusion ! all is on the rout :
+Fear frames disorder , and disorder wounds
+Where it should guard . O war ! thou son of hell ,
+Whom angry heavens do make their minister ,
+Throw in the frozen bosoms of our part
+Hot coals of vengeance ! Let no soldier fly :
+He that is truly dedicate to war
+Hath no self-love ; nor he that loves himself
+Hath not essentially , but by circumstance ,
+The name of valour .
+
+O ! let the vile world end ,
+And the premised flames of the last day
+Knit heaven and earth together ;
+Now let the general trumpet blow his blast ,
+Particularities and petty sounds
+To cease !Wast thou ordain'd , dear father ,
+To lose thy youth in peace , and to achieve
+The silver livery of advised age ,
+And , in thy reverence and thy chair-days thus
+To die in ruffian battle ? Even at this sight
+My heart is turn'd to stone : and while 'tis mine
+It shall be stony . York not our old men spares :
+No more will I their babes : tears virginal
+Shall be to me even as the dew to fire ;
+And beauty , that the tyrant oft reclaims ,
+Shall to my flaming wrath be oil and flax .
+Henceforth I will not have to do with pity :
+Meet I an infant of the house of York ,
+Into as many gobbets will I cut it
+As wild Medea young Absyrtus did :
+In cruelty will I seek out my fame .
+Come , thou new ruin of old Clifford's house :
+
+As did neas old Anchises bear ,
+So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders ;
+But then neas bare a living load ,
+Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine .
+
+So , lie thou there ;
+For underneath an alehouse' paltry sign ,
+The Castle in Saint Alban's , Somerset
+Hath made the wizard famous in his death .
+Sword , hold thy temper ; heart , be wrathful still :
+Priests pray for enemies , but princes kill .
+
+Away , my lord ! you are slow : for shame , away !
+
+Can we outrun the heavens ? good Margaret , stay .
+
+What are you made of ? you'll nor fight nor fly :
+Now is it manhood , wisdom , and defence ,
+To give the enemy way , and to secure us
+By what we can , which can no more but fly .
+
+If you be ta'en , we then should see the bottom
+Of all our fortunes : but if we haply scape ,
+As well we may , if not through your neglect ,
+We shall to London get , where you are lov'd ,
+And where this breach now in our fortunes made
+May readily be stopp'd .
+
+
+But that my heart's on future mischief set ,
+I would speak blasphemy ere bid you fly ;
+But fly you must : uncurable discomfit
+Reigns in the hearts of all our present parts .
+Away , for your relief ! and we will live
+To see their day and them our fortune give .
+Away , my lord , away !
+
+
+Of Salisbury , who can report of him ;
+That winter lion , who in rage forgets
+Aged contusions and all brush of time ,
+And , like a gallant in the brow of youth ,
+Repairs him with occasion ? this happy day
+Is not itself , nor have we won one foot ,
+If Salisbury be lost .
+
+My noble father ,
+Three times to-day I holp him to his horse ,
+Three times bestrid him ; thrice I led him off ,
+Persuaded him from any further act :
+But still , where danger was , still there I met him ;
+And like rich hangings in a homely house ,
+So was his will in his old feeble body .
+But , noble as he is , look where he comes .
+
+
+Now , by my sword , well hast thou fought to-day ;
+By the mass , so did we all . I thank you , Richard :
+God knows how long it is I have to live ;
+And it hath pleas'd him that three times to-day
+You have defended me from imminent death .
+Well , lords , we have not got that which we have :
+'Tis not enough our foes are this time fled ,
+Being opposites of such repairing nature .
+
+I know our safety is to follow them ;
+
+For , as I hear , the king is fled to London ,
+To call a present court of parliament :
+Let us pursue him ere the writs go forth :
+What says Lord Warwick ? shall we after them ?
+
+After them ! nay , before them , if we can .
+Now , by my hand , lords , 'twas a glorious day :
+Saint Alban's battle , won by famous York ,
+Shall be eterniz'd in all age to come .
+Sound , drums and trumpets , and to London all :
+And more such days as these to us befall !
+
+THE THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI
+
+I wonder how the king escap'd our hands .
+
+While we pursu'd the horsemen of the north ,
+He slily stole away and left his men :
+Whereat the great Lord of Northumberland ,
+Whose warlike ears could never brook retreat ,
+Cheer'd up the drooping army ; and himself ,
+Lord Clifford , and Lord Stafford , all abreast ,
+Charg'd our main battle's front , and breaking in
+Were by the swords of common soldiers slain .
+
+Lord Stafford's father , Duke of Buckingham ,
+Is either slain or wounded dangerously ;
+I cleft his beaver with a downright blow :
+That this is true , father , behold his blood .
+
+
+And , brother , here's the Earl of Wiltshire's blood ,
+
+Whom I encounter'd as the battles join'd .
+
+Speak thou for me , and tell them what I did .
+
+
+Richard hath best deserv'd of all my sons .
+But , is your Grace dead , my Lord of Somerset ?
+
+Such hope have all the line of John of Gaunt !
+
+Thus do I hope to shake King Henry's head .
+
+And so do I . Victorious Prince of York ,
+Before I see thee seated in that throne
+Which now the house of Lancaster usurps ,
+I vow by heaven these eyes shall never close .
+This is the palace of the fearful king ,
+And this the regal seat : possess it , York ;
+For this is thine , and not King Henry's heirs' .
+
+Assist me , then , sweet Warwick , and I will ;
+For hither we have broken in by force .
+
+We'll all assist you ; he that flies shall die .
+
+Thanks , gentle Norfolk . Stay by me , my lords ;
+And , soldiers , stay and lodge by me this night .
+
+And when the king comes , offer him no violence ,
+Unless he seek to thrust you out perforce .
+
+
+The queen this day here holds her parliament ,
+But little thinks we shall be of her council :
+By words or blows here let us win our right .
+
+Arm'd as we are , let's stay within this house .
+
+The bloody parliament shall this be call'd ,
+Unless Plantagenet , Duke of York , be king ,
+And bashful Henry depos'd , whose cowardice
+Hath made us by-words to our enemies .
+
+Then leave me not , my lords ; be resolute ;
+I mean to take possession of my right .
+
+Neither the king , nor he that loves him best ,
+The proudest he that holds up Lancaster ,
+Dares stir a wing if Warwick shake his bells .
+I'll plant Plantagenet , root him up who dares .
+Resolve thee , Richard ; claim the English crown .
+
+
+My lords , look where the sturdy rebel sits ,
+Even in the chair of state ! belike he means
+Back'd by the power of Warwick , that false peer
+To aspire unto the crown and reign as king .
+Earl of Northumberland , he slew thy father ,
+And thine , Lord Clifford ; and you both have vow'd revenge
+On him , his sons , his favourites , and his friends .
+
+If I be not , heavens be reveng'd on me !
+
+The hope thereof makes Clifford mourn in steel .
+
+What ! shall we suffer this ? let's pluck him down :
+My heart for anger burns ; I cannot brook it .
+
+Be patient , gentle Earl of Westmoreland .
+
+Patience is for poltroons , such as he :
+He durst not sit there had your father liv'd .
+My gracious lord , here in the parliament
+Let us assail the family of York .
+
+Well hast thou spoken , cousin : be it so .
+
+Ah ! know you not the city favours them ,
+And they have troops of soldiers at their beck ?
+
+But when the duke is slain they'll quickly fly .
+
+Far be the thought of this from Henry's heart ,
+To make a shambles of the parliament-house !
+Cousin of Exeter , frowns , words , and threats ,
+Shall be the war that Henry means to use .
+
+Thou factious Duke of York , descend my throne ,
+And kneel for grace and mercy at my feet ;
+I am thy sovereign .
+
+I am thine .
+
+For shame ! come down : he made thee Duke of York .
+
+'Twas my inheritance , as the earldom was .
+
+Thy father was a traitor to the crown .
+
+Exeter , thou art a traitor to the crown
+In following this usurping Henry .
+
+Whom should he follow but his natural king ?
+
+True , Clifford ; and that's Richard , Duke of York .
+
+And shall I stand , and thou sit in my throne ?
+
+It must and shall be so : content thyself .
+
+Be Duke of Lancaster : let him be king .
+
+He is both king and Duke of Lancaster ;
+And that the Lord of Westmoreland shall maintain .
+
+And Warwick shall disprove it . You forget
+That we are those which chas'd you from the field
+And slew your fathers , and with colours spread
+March'd through the city to the palace gates .
+
+Yes , Warwick , I remember it to my grief ;
+And , by his soul , thou and thy house shall rue it .
+
+Plantagenet , of thee , and these thy sons ,
+Thy kinsmen and thy friends , I'll have more lives
+Than drops of blood were in my father's veins .
+
+Urge it no more ; lest that instead of words ,
+I send thee , Warwick , such a messenger
+As shall revenge his death before I stir .
+
+Poor Clifford ! how I scorn his worthless threats .
+
+Will you we show our title to the crown ?
+If not , our swords shall plead it in the field .
+
+What title hast thou , traitor , to the crown ?
+Thy father was , as thou art , Duke of York ;
+Thy grandfather , Roger Mortimer , Earl of March ;
+I am the son of Henry the Fifth ,
+Who made the Dauphin and the French to stoop ,
+And seiz'd upon their towns and provinces .
+
+Talk not of France , sith thou hast lost it all .
+
+The Lord Protector lost it , and not I :
+When I was crown'd I was but nine months old .
+
+You are old enough now , and yet , methinks , you lose .
+Father , tear the crown from the usurper's head .
+
+Sweet father , do so ; set it on your head .
+
+Good brother , as thou lov'st and honour'st arms ,
+Let's fight it out and not stand cavilling thus .
+
+Sound drums and trumpets , and the king will fly .
+
+Sons , peace !
+
+Peace thou ! and give King Henry leave to speak .
+
+Plantagenet shall speak first : hear him , lords ;
+And be you silent and attentive too ,
+For he that interrupts him shall not live .
+
+Think'st thou that I will leave my kingly throne ,
+Wherein my grandsire and my father sat ?
+No : first shall war unpeople this my realm ;
+Ay , and their colours , often borne in France ,
+And now in England to our heart's great sorrow ,
+Shall be my winding-sheet . Why faint you , lords ?
+My title's good , and better far than his .
+
+Prove it , Henry , and thou shalt be king .
+
+Henry the Fourth by conquest got the crown .
+
+'Twas by rebellion against his king .
+
+I know not what to say : my title's weak .
+
+
+Tell me , may not a king adopt an heir ?
+
+What then ?
+
+An if he may , then am I lawful king ;
+For Richard , in the view of many lords ,
+Resign'd the crown to Henry the Fourth ,
+Whose heir my father was , and I am his .
+
+He rose against him , being his sovereign ,
+And made him to resign his crown perforce .
+
+Suppose , my lords , he did it unconstrain'd ,
+Think you 'twere prejudicial to his crown ?
+
+No ; for he could not so resign his crown
+But that the next heir should succeed and reign .
+
+Art thou against us , Duke of Exeter ?
+
+His is the right , and therefore pardon me .
+
+Why whisper you , my lords , and answer not ?
+
+My conscience tells me he is lawful king .
+
+All will revolt from me , and turn to him .
+
+Plantagenet , for all the claim thou lay'st ,
+Think not that Henry shall be so depos'd .
+
+Depos'd he shall be in despite of all .
+
+Thou art deceiv'd : 'tis not thy southern power ,
+Of Essex , Norfolk , Suffolk , nor of Kent ,
+Which makes thee thus presumptuous and proud ,
+Can set the duke up in despite of me .
+
+King Henry , be thy title right or wrong ,
+Lord Clifford vows to fight in thy defence :
+May that ground gape and swallow me alive ,
+Where I shall kneel to him that slew my father !
+
+O Clifford , how thy words revive my heart !
+
+Henry of Lancaster , resign thy crown .
+What mutter you , or what conspire you , lords ?
+
+Do right unto this princely Duke of York ,
+Or I will fill the house with armed men ,
+And o'er the chair of state , where now he sits ,
+Write up his title with usurping blood .
+
+
+My Lord of Warwick , hear me but one word :
+Let me for this my life-time reign as king .
+
+Confirm the crown to me and to mine heirs ,
+And thou shalt reign in quiet while thou liv'st .
+
+I am content : Richard Plantagenet ,
+Enjoy the kingdom after my decease .
+
+What wrong is this unto the prince your son !
+
+What good is this to England and himself !
+
+Base , fearful , and despairing Henry !
+
+How hast thou injur'd both thyself and us !
+
+I cannot stay to hear these articles .
+
+Nor I .
+
+Come , cousin , let us tell the queen these news .
+
+Farewell , faint-hearted and degenerate king ,
+In whose cold blood no spark of honour bides .
+
+Be thou a prey unto the house of York ,
+And die in bands for this unmanly deed !
+
+In dreadful war mayst thou be overcome ,
+Or live in peace abandon'd and despis'd !
+
+
+Turn this way , Henry , and regard them not .
+
+They seek revenge and therefore will not yield .
+
+Ah ! Exeter .
+
+Why should you sigh , my lord ?
+
+Not for myself , Lord Warwick , but my son ,
+Whom I unnaturally shall disinherit .
+But be it as it may ; I here entail
+The crown to thee and to thine heirs for ever ;
+Conditionally , that here thou take an oath
+To cease this civil war , and , whilst I live ,
+To honour me as thy king and sovereign ;
+And neither by treason nor hostility
+To seek to put me down and reign thyself .
+
+This oath I willingly take and will perform .
+
+
+Long live King Henry ! Plantagenet , embrace him .
+
+And long live thou and these thy forward sons !
+
+Now York and Lancaster are reconcil'd .
+
+Accurs'd be he that seeks to make them foes !
+
+
+Farewell , my gracious lord ; I'll to my castle .
+
+And I'll keep London with my soldiers .
+
+And I to Norfolk with my followers .
+
+And I unto the sea from whence I came .
+
+
+And I , with grief and sorrow , to the court .
+
+
+Here comes the queen , whose looks bewray her anger :
+I'll steal away .
+
+
+Exeter , so will I .
+
+
+Nay , go not from me ; I will follow thee .
+
+Be patient , gentle queen , and I will stay .
+
+Who can be patient in such extremes ?
+Ah ! wretched man ; would I had died a maid ,
+And never seen thee , never borne thee son ,
+Seeing thou hast prov'd so unnatural a father .
+Hath he deserv'd to lose his birthright thus ?
+Hadst thou but lov'd him half so well as I ,
+Or felt that pain which I did for him once ,
+Or nourish'd him as I did with my blood ,
+Thou wouldst have left thy dearest heart-blood there ,
+Rather than have made that savage duke thine heir ,
+And disinherited thine only son .
+
+Father , you cannot disinherit me :
+If you be king , why should not I succeed ?
+
+Pardon me , Margaret ; pardon me , sweet son ;
+The Earl of Warwick , and the duke , enforc'd me .
+
+Enforc'd thee ! art thou king , and wilt be forc'd ?
+I shame to hear thee speak . Ah ! timorous wretch ;
+Thou hast undone thyself , thy son , and me ;
+And given unto the house of York such head
+As thou shalt reign but by their sufferance .
+To entail him and his heirs unto the crown ,
+What is it but to make thy sepulchre ,
+And creep into it far before thy time ?
+Warwick is chancellor and the Lord of Calais ;
+Stern Faulconbridge commands the narrow seas ;
+The duke is made protector of the realm ;
+And yet shalt thou be safe ? such safety finds
+The trembling lamb environed with wolves .
+Had I been there , which am a silly woman ,
+The soldiers should have toss'd me on their pikes
+Before I would have granted to that act ;
+But thou preferr'st thy life before thine honour :
+And seeing thou dost , I here divorce myself ,
+Both from thy table , Henry , and thy bed ,
+Until that act of parliament be repeal'd
+Whereby my son is disinherited .
+The northern lords that have forsworn thy colours
+Will follow mine , if once they see them spread ;
+And spread they shall be , to thy foul disgrace ,
+And utter ruin of the house of York .
+Thus do I leave thee . Come , son , let's away ;
+Our army is ready ; come , we'll after them .
+
+Stay , gentle Margaret , and hear me speak .
+
+Thou hast spoke too much already : get thee gone .
+
+Gentle son Edward , thou wilt stay with me ?
+
+Ay , to be murder'd by his enemies .
+
+When I return with victory from the field
+I'll see your Grace : till then , I'll follow her .
+
+Come , son , away ; we may not linger thus .
+
+
+Poor queen ! how love to me and to her son
+Hath made her break out into terms of rage .
+Reveng'd may she be on that hateful duke ,
+Whose haughty spirit , winged with desire ,
+Will cost my crown , and like an empty eagle
+Tire on the flesh of me and of my son !
+The loss of those three lords torments my heart :
+I'll write unto them , and entreat them fair .
+Come , cousin ; you shall be the messenger .
+
+And I , I hope , shall reconcile them all .
+
+
+Brother , though I be youngest , give me leave .
+
+No , I can better play the orator .
+
+But I have reasons strong and forcible .
+
+
+Why , how now , sons and brother ! at a strife ?
+What is your quarrel ? how began it first ?
+
+No quarrel , but a slight contention .
+
+About what ?
+
+About that which concerns your Grace and us ;
+The crown of England , father , which is yours .
+
+Mine , boy ? not till King Henry be dead .
+
+Your right depends not on his life or death .
+
+Now you are heir , therefore enjoy it now :
+By giving the house of Lancaster leave to breathe ,
+It will outrun you , father , in the end .
+
+I took an oath that he should quietly reign .
+
+But for a kingdom any oath may be broken :
+I would break a thousand oaths to reign one year .
+
+No ; God forbid your Grace should be forsworn .
+
+I shall be , if I claim by open war .
+
+I'll prove the contrary , if you'll hear me speak .
+
+Thou canst not , son ; it is impossible .
+
+An oath is of no moment , being not took
+Before a true and lawful magistrate
+That hath authority over him that swears :
+Henry had none , but did usurp the place ;
+Then , seeing 'twas he that made you to depose ,
+Your oath , my lord , is vain and frivolous .
+Therefore , to arms ! And , father , do but think
+How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown ,
+Within whose circuit is Elysium ,
+And all that poets feign of bliss and joy .
+Why do we linger thus ? I cannot rest
+Until the white rose that I wear be dy'd
+Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry's heart .
+
+Richard , enough , I will be king , or die .
+Brother , thou shalt to London presently ,
+And whet on Warwick to this enterprise .
+Thou , Richard , shalt unto the Duke of Norfolk ,
+And tell him privily of our intent .
+You , Edward , shall unto my Lord Cobham ,
+With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise :
+In them I trust ; for they are soldiers ,
+Witty , courteous , liberal , full of spirit .
+While you are thus employ'd , what resteth more ,
+But that I seek occasion how to rise ,
+And yet the king not privy to my drift ,
+Nor any of the house of Lancaster ?
+
+But , stay : what news ? why com'st thou in such post ?
+
+The queen with all the northern earls and lords
+Intend here to besiege you in your castle .
+She is hard by with twenty thousand men ,
+And therefore fortify your hold , my lord .
+
+Ay , with my sword . What ! think'st thou that we fear them ?
+Edward and Richard , you shall stay with me ;
+My brother Montague shall post to London :
+Let noble Warwick , Cobham , and the rest ,
+Whom we have left protectors of the king ,
+With powerful policy strengthen themselves ,
+And trust not simple Henry nor his oaths .
+
+Brother , I go ; I'll win them , fear it not :
+And thus most humbly I do take my leave .
+
+Sir John , and Sir Hugh Mortimer , mine uncles !
+You are come to Sandal in a happy hour ;
+The army of the queen mean to besiege us .
+
+She shall not need , we'll meet her in the field .
+
+What ! with five thousand men ?
+
+Ay , with five hundred , father , for a need :
+A woman's general ; what should we fear ?
+
+
+I hear their drums ; let's set our men in order ,
+And issue forth and bid them battle straight .
+
+Five men to twenty ! though the odds be great ,
+I doubt not , uncle , of our victory .
+Many a battle have I won in France ,
+When as the enemy hath been ten to one :
+Why should I not now have the like success ?
+
+
+Ah , whither shall I fly to 'scape their hands ?
+Ah ! tutor , look , where bloody Clifford comes !
+
+
+Chaplain , away ! thy priesthood saves thy life .
+As for the brat of this accursed duke ,
+Whose father slew my father , he shall die .
+
+And I , my lord , will bear him company .
+
+Soldiers , away with him .
+
+Ah ! Clifford , murder not this innocent child ,
+Lest thou be hated both of God and man !
+
+
+How now ! is he dead already ? Or is it fear
+That makes him close his eyes ? I'll open them .
+
+So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch
+That trembles under his devouring paws ;
+And so he walks , insulting o'er his prey ,
+And so he comes to rend his limbs asunder .
+Ah ! gentle Clifford , kill me with thy sword ,
+And not with such a cruel threatening look .
+Sweet Clifford ! hear me speak before I die :
+I am too mean a subject for thy wrath ;
+Be thou reveng'd on men , and let me live .
+
+In vain thou speak'st , poor boy ; my father's blood
+Hath stopp'd the passage where thy words should enter .
+
+Then let my father's blood open it again :
+He is a man , and , Clifford , cope with him .
+
+Had I thy brethren here , their lives and thine
+Were not revenge sufficient for me ;
+No , if I digg'd up thy forefathers' graves ,
+And hung their rotten coffins up in chains ,
+It could not slake mine ire , nor ease my heart .
+The sight of any of the house of York
+Is as a fury to torment my soul ;
+And till I root out their accursed line ,
+And leave not one alive , I live in hell .
+Therefore
+
+
+O ! let me pray before I take my death .
+To thee I pray ; sweet Clifford , pity me !
+
+Such pity as my rapier's point affords .
+
+I never did thee harm : why wilt thou slay me ?
+
+Thy father hath .
+
+But 'twas ere I was born .
+Thou hast one son ; for his sake pity me ,
+Lest in revenge thereof , sith God is just ,
+He be as miserably slain as I .
+Ah ! let me live in prison all my days ;
+And when I give occasion of offence ,
+Then let me die , for now thou hast no cause .
+
+No cause !
+Thy father slew my father ; therefore , die .
+
+
+Dii faciant laudis summa sit ista tu !
+
+
+Plantagenet ! I come , Plantagenet !
+And this thy son's blood cleaving to my blade
+Shall rust upon my weapon , till thy blood ,
+Congeal'd with this , do make me wipe off both .
+
+
+The army of the queen hath got the field :
+My uncles both are slain in rescuing me ;
+And all my followers to the eager foe
+Turn back and fly , like ships before the wind ,
+Or lambs pursu'd by hunger-starved wolves .
+My sons , God knows what hath bechanced them :
+But this I know , they have demean'd themselves
+Like men born to renown by life or death .
+Three times did Richard make a lane to me ,
+And thrice cried , 'Courage , father ! fight it out !'
+And full as oft came Edward to my side ,
+With purple falchion , painted to the hilt
+In blood of those that had encounter'd him :
+And when the hardiest warriors did retire ,
+Richard cried , 'Charge ! and give no foot of ground !'
+And cried , 'A crown , or else a glorious tomb !
+A sceptre , or an earthly sepulchre !'
+With this , we charg'd again ; but , out , alas !
+We bodg'd again : as I have seen a swan
+With bootless labour swim against the tide ,
+And spend her strength with over-matching waves .
+
+Ah , hark ! the fatal followers do pursue ;
+And I am faint and cannot fly their fury ;
+And were I strong I would not shun their fury :
+The sands are number'd that make up my life ;
+Here must I stay , and here my life must end .
+
+
+Come , bloody Clifford , rough Northumberland ,
+I dare your quenchless fury to more rage :
+
+I am your butt , and I abide your shot .
+
+Yield to our mercy , proud Plantagenet .
+
+Ay , to such mercy as his ruthless arm
+With downright payment show'd unto my father .
+Now Ph thon hath tumbled from his car ,
+And made an evening at the noontide prick .
+
+My ashes , as the ph nix , may bring forth
+A bird that will revenge upon you all ;
+And in that hope I throw mine eyes to heaven ,
+Scorning whate'er you can afflict me with .
+Why come you not ? what ! multitudes , and fear ?
+
+So cowards fight when they can fly no further ;
+So doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons ;
+So desperate thieves , all hopeless of their lives ,
+Breathe out invectives 'gainst the officers .
+
+O Clifford ! but bethink thee once again ,
+And in thy thought o'er-run my former time ;
+And , if thou canst for blushing , view this face ,
+And bite thy tongue , that slanders him with cowardice
+Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere this .
+
+I will not bandy with thee word for word ,
+But buckle with thee blows , twice two for one .
+
+
+Hold , valiant Clifford ! for a thousand causes
+I would prolong awhile the traitor's life .
+Wrath makes him deaf : speak thou , Northumberland .
+
+Hold , Clifford ! do not honour him so much
+To prick thy finger , though to wound his heart .
+What valour were it , when a cur doth grin ,
+For one to thrust his hand between his teeth ,
+When he might spurn him with his foot away ?
+It is war's prize to take all vantages ,
+And ten to one is no impeach of valour .
+
+
+Ay , ay ; so strives the woodcock with the gin .
+
+So doth the cony struggle in the net .
+
+
+So triumph thieves upon their conquer'd booty ;
+So true men yield , with robbers so o'er-matched .
+
+What would your Grace have done unto him now ?
+
+Brave warriors , Clifford and Northumberland ,
+Come , make him stand upon this molehill here ,
+That raught at mountains with outstretched arms ,
+Yet parted but the shadow with his hand .
+What ! was it you that would be England's king ?
+Was't you that revell'd in our parliament ,
+And made a preachment of your high descent ?
+Where are your mess of sons to back you now ?
+The wanton Edward , and the lusty George ?
+And where's that valiant crook-back prodigy ,
+Dicky your boy , that with his grumbling voice
+Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies ?
+Or , with the rest , where is your darling Rutland ?
+Look , York : I stain'd this napkin with the blood
+That valiant Clifford with his rapier's point
+Made issue from the bosom of the boy ;
+And if thine eyes can water for his death ,
+I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal .
+Alas , poor York ! but that I hate thee deadly ,
+I should lament thy miserable state .
+I prithee grieve , to make me merry , York .
+What ! hath thy fiery heart so parch'd thine entrails
+That not a tear can fall for Rutland's death ?
+Why art thou patient , man ? thou shouldst be mad ;
+And I , to make thee mad , do mock thee thus .
+Stamp , rave , and fret , that I may sing and dance .
+Thou wouldst be fee'd , I see , to make me sport :
+York cannot speak unless he wear a crown .
+A crown for York ! and , lords , bow low to him :
+Hold you his hands whilst I do set it on .
+
+Ay , marry , sir , now looks he like a king !
+Ay , this is he that took King Henry's chair ;
+And this is he was his adopted heir .
+But how is it that great Plantagenet
+Is crown'd so soon , and broke his solemn oath ?
+As I bethink me , you should not be king
+Till our King Henry had shook hands with death .
+And will you pale your head in Henry's glory ,
+And rob his temples of the diadem ,
+Now in his life , against your holy oath ?
+O ! 'tis a fault too-too unpardonable .
+Off with the crown ; and , with the crown , his head ;
+And , whilst we breathe , take time to do him dead .
+
+That is my office , for my father's sake .
+
+Nay , stay ; let's hear the orisons he makes .
+
+She-wolf of France , but worse than wolves of France ,
+Whose tongue more poisons than the adder's tooth !
+How ill-beseeming is it in thy sex
+To triumph , like an Amazonian trull ,
+Upon their woes whom fortune captivates !
+But that thy face is , visor-like , unchanging ,
+Made impudent with use of evil deeds ,
+I would assay , proud queen , to make thee blush :
+To tell thee whence thou cam'st , of whom deriv'd ,
+Were shame enough to shame thee , wert thou not shameless .
+Thy father bears the type of King of Naples ,
+Of both the Sicils and Jerusalem ;
+Yet not so wealthy as an English yeoman .
+Hath that poor monarch taught thee to insult ?
+It needs not , nor it boots thee not , proud queen ,
+Unless the adage must be verified ,
+That beggars mounted run their horse to death .
+'Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud ;
+But , God he knows , thy share thereof is small :
+'Tis virtue that doth make them most admir'd ;
+The contrary doth make thee wonder'd at :
+'Tis government that makes them seem divine ;
+The want thereof makes thee abominable .
+Thou art as opposite to every good
+As the Antipodes are unto us ,
+Or as the south to the septentrion .
+O tiger's heart wrapp'd in a woman's hide !
+How couldst thou drain the life-blood of the child ,
+To bid the father wipe his eyes withal ,
+And yet be seen to bear a woman's face ?
+Women are soft , mild , pitiful , and flexible ;
+Thou stern , obdurate , flinty , rough , remorseless .
+Bidd'st thou me rage ? why , now thou hast thy wish :
+Wouldst have me weep ? why , now thou hast thy will ;
+For raging wind blows up incessant showers ,
+And when the rage allays , the rain begins .
+These tears are my sweet Rutland's obsequies ,
+And every drop cries vengeance for his death ,
+'Gainst thee , fell Clifford , and thee , false Frenchwoman .
+
+Beshrew me , but his passion moves me so
+That hardly can I check my eyes from tears .
+
+That face of his the hungry cannibals
+Would not have touch'd , would not have stain'd with blood ;
+But you are more inhuman , more inexorable ,
+O ! ten times more , than tigers of Hyrcania .
+See , ruthless queen , a hapless father's tears :
+This cloth thou dipp'dst in blood of my sweet boy ,
+And I with tears do wash the blood away .
+Keep thou the napkin , and go boast of this ;
+
+And if thou tell'st the heavy story right ,
+Upon my soul , the hearers will shed tears ;
+Yea , even my foes will shed fast-falling tears ,
+And say , 'Alas ! it was a piteous deed !'
+There , take the crown , and , with the crown my curse ,
+And in thy need such comfort come to thee
+As now I reap at thy too cruel hand !
+Hard-hearted Clifford , take me from the world ;
+My soul to heaven , my blood upon your heads !
+
+Had he been slaughter-man to all my kin ,
+I should not for my life but weep with him ,
+To see how inly sorrow gripes his soul .
+
+What ! weeping-ripe , my Lord Northumberland ?
+Think but upon the wrong he did us all ,
+And that will quickly dry thy melting tears .
+
+Here's for my oath ; here's for my father's death .
+
+
+And here's to right our gentlehearted king .
+
+
+Open thy gate of mercy , gracious God !
+My soul flies through these wounds to seek out thee .
+
+
+Off with his head , and set it on York gates ;
+So York may overlook the town of York .
+
+I wonder how our princely father 'scap'd ,
+Or whether he be 'scap'd away or no
+From Clifford's and Northumberland's pursuit .
+Had he been ta'en we should have heard the news ;
+Had he been slain we should have heard the news ;
+Or had he 'scap'd , methinks we should have heard
+The happy tidings of his good escape .
+How fares my brother ? why is he so sad ?
+
+I cannot joy until I be resolv'd
+Where our right valiant father is become .
+I saw him in the battle range about ,
+And watch'd him how he singled Clifford forth .
+Methought he bore him in the thickest troop
+As doth a lion in a herd of neat ;
+Or as a bear , encompass'd round with dogs ,
+Who having pinch'd a few and made them cry ,
+The rest stand all aloof and bark at him .
+So far'd our father with his enemies ;
+So fled his enemies my war-like father :
+Methinks , 'tis prize enough to be his son .
+See how the morning opes her golden gates ,
+And takes her farewell of the glorious sun ;
+How well resembles it the prime of youth ,
+Trimm'd like a younker prancing to his love .
+
+Dazzle mine eyes , or do I see three suns ?
+
+Three glorious suns , each one a perfect sun ;
+Not separated with the racking clouds ,
+But sever'd in a pale clear-shining sky .
+See , see ! they join , embrace , and seem to kiss ,
+As if they vow'd some league inviolable :
+Now are they but one lamp , one light , one sun .
+In this the heaven figures some event .
+
+'Tis wondrous strange , the like yet never heard of .
+I think it cites us , brother , to the field ;
+That we , the sons of brave Plantagenet ,
+Each one already blazing by our meeds ,
+Should notwithstanding join our lights together ,
+And over-shine the earth , as this the world .
+Whate'er it bodes , henceforward will I bear
+Upon my target three fair-shining suns .
+
+Nay , bear three daughters : by your leave I speak it ,
+You love the breeder better than the male .
+
+
+But what art thou , whose heavy looks foretell
+
+Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue ?
+
+Ah ! one that was a woeful looker-on ,
+When as the noble Duke of York was slain ,
+Your princely father , and my loving lord .
+
+O ! speak no more , for I have heard too much .
+
+Say how he died , for I will hear it all .
+
+Environed he was with many foes ,
+And stood against them , as the hope of Troy
+Against the Greeks that would have enter'd Troy .
+But Hercules himself must yield to odds ;
+And many strokes , though with a little axe ,
+Hew down and fell the hardest-timber'd oak .
+By many hands your father was subdu'd ;
+But only slaughter'd by the ireful arm
+Of unrelenting Clifford and the queen ,
+Who crown'd the gracious duke in high despite ;
+Laugh'd in his face ; and when with grief he wept ,
+The ruthless queen gave him to dry his cheeks ,
+A napkin steeped in the harmless blood
+Of sweet young Rutland , by rough Clifford slain :
+And after many scorns , many foul taunts ,
+They took his head , and on the gates of York
+They set the same ; and there it doth remain ,
+The saddest spectacle that e'er I view'd .
+
+Sweet Duke of York ! our prop to lean upon ,
+Now thou art gone , we have no staff , no stay !
+O Clifford ! boist'rous Clifford ! thou hast slain
+The flower of Europe for his chivalry ;
+And treacherously hast thou vanquish'd him ,
+For hand to hand he would have vanquish'd thee .
+Now my soul's palace is become a prison :
+Ah ! would she break from hence , that this my body
+Might in the ground be closed up in rest ,
+For never henceforth shall I joy again ,
+Never , O ! never , shall I see more joy .
+
+I cannot weep , for all my body's moisture
+Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart :
+Nor can my tongue unload my heart's great burden ;
+For self-same wind , that I should speak withal
+Is kindling coals that fire all my breast ,
+And burn me up with flames , that tears would quench .
+To weep is to make less the depth of grief :
+Tears then , for babes ; blows and revenge for me !
+Richard , I bear thy name ; I'll venge thy death ,
+Or die renowned by attempting it .
+
+His name that valiant duke hath left with thee ;
+His dukedom and his chair with me is left .
+
+Nay , if thou be that princely eagle's bird ,
+Show thy descent by gazing 'gainst the sun :
+For chair and dukedom , throne and kingdom say ;
+Either that is thine , or else thou wert not his .
+
+
+How now , fair lords ! What fare ? what news abroad ?
+
+Great Lord of Warwick , if we should recount
+Our baleful news , and at each word's deliv'rance
+Stab poniards in our flesh till all were told ,
+The words would add more anguish than the wounds .
+O valiant lord ! the Duke of York is slain .
+
+O Warwick ! Warwick ! that Plantagenet
+Which held thee dearly as his soul's redemption ,
+Is by the stern Lord Clifford done to death .
+
+Ten days ago I drown'd these news in tears ,
+And now , to add more measure to your woes ,
+I come to tell you things sith then befallen .
+After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought ,
+Where your brave father breath'd his latest gasp ,
+Tidings , as swiftly as the posts could run ,
+Were brought me of your loss and his depart .
+I , then in London , keeper of the king ,
+Muster'd my soldiers , gather'd flocks of friends ,
+And very well appointed , as I thought ,
+March'd towards Saint Alban's to intercept the queen ,
+Bearing the king in my behalf along ;
+For by my scouts I was advertised
+That she was coming with a full intent
+To dash our late decree in parliament ,
+Touching King Henry's oath and your succession .
+Short tale to make , we at Saint Alban's met ,
+Our battles join'd , and both sides fiercely fought :
+But whether 'twas the coldness of the king ,
+Who look'd full gently on his war-like queen ,
+That robb'd my soldiers of their heated spleen ;
+Or whether 'twas report of her success ;
+Or more than common fear of Clifford's rigour ,
+Who thunders to his captives blood and death ,
+I cannot judge : but , to conclude with truth ,
+Their weapons like to lightning came and went ;
+Our soldiers' like the night-owl's lazy flight ,
+Or like a lazy thresher with a flail
+Fell gently down , as if they struck their friends .
+I cheer'd them up with justice of our cause ,
+With promise of high pay , and great rewards :
+But all in vain ; they had no heart to fight ,
+And we in them no hope to win the day ;
+So that we fled : the king unto the queen ;
+Lord George your brother , Norfolk , and myself ,
+In haste , post-haste , are come to join with you ;
+For in the marches here we heard you were ,
+Making another head to fight again .
+
+Where is the Duke of Norfolk , gentle Warwick ?
+And when came George from Burgundy to England ?
+
+Some six miles off the duke is with the soldiers ;
+And for your brother , he was lately sent
+From your kind aunt , Duchess of Burgundy ,
+With aid of soldiers to this needful war .
+
+'Twas odds , belike , when valiant Warwick fled :
+Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit ,
+But ne'er till now his scandal of retire .
+
+Nor now my scandal , Richard , dost thou hear ;
+For thou shalt know , this strong right hand of mine
+Can pluck the diadem from faint Henry's head ,
+And wring the awful sceptre from his fist ,
+Were he as famous , and as bold in war
+As he is fam'd for mildness , peace , and prayer .
+
+I know it well , Lord Warwick ; blame me not :
+'Tis love I bear thy glories makes me speak .
+But , in this troublous time what's to be done ?
+Shall we go throw away our coats of steel ,
+And wrap our bodies in black mourning gowns ,
+Numb'ring our Ave-Maries with our beads ?
+Or shall we on the helmets of our foes
+Tell our devotion with revengeful arms ?
+If for the last , say 'Ay ,' and to it , lords .
+
+Why , therefore Warwick came to seek you out ;
+And therefore comes my brother Montague .
+Attend me , lords . The proud insulting queen ,
+With Clifford and the haught Northumberland ,
+And of their feather many more proud birds ,
+Have wrought the easy-melting king like wax .
+He swore consent to your succession ,
+His oath enrolled in the parliament ;
+And now to London all the crew are gone ,
+To frustrate both his oath and what beside
+May make against the house of Lancaster .
+Their power , I think , is thirty thousand strong :
+Now , if the help of Norfolk and myself ,
+With all the friends that thou , brave Earl of March ,
+Amongst the loving Welshmen canst procure ,
+Will but amount to five and twenty thousand ,
+Why , Via ! to London will we march amain ,
+And once again bestride our foaming steeds ,
+And once again cry , 'Charge upon our foes !'
+But never once again turn back and fly .
+
+Ay , now methinks I hear great Warwick speak :
+Ne'er may he live to see a sunshine day ,
+That cries 'Retire ,' if Warwick bid him stay .
+
+Lord Warwick , on thy shoulder will I lean ;
+And when thou fail'st as God forbid the hour !
+Must Edward fall , which peril heaven forfend !
+
+No longer Earl of March , but Duke of York :
+The next degree is England's royal throne ;
+For King of England shalt thou be proclaim'd
+In every borough as we pass along ;
+And he that throws not up his cap for joy
+Shall for the fault make forfeit of his head .
+King Edward , valiant Richard , Montague ,
+Stay we no longer dreaming of renown ,
+But sound the trumpets , and about our task .
+
+Then , Clifford , were thy heart as hard as steel ,
+As thou hast shown it flinty by thy deeds ,
+I come to pierce it , or to give thee mine .
+
+Then strike up , drums ! God , and Saint George for us !
+
+
+How now ! what news ?
+
+The Duke of Norfolk sends you word by me ,
+The queen is coming with a puissant host ;
+And craves your company for speedy counsel .
+
+Why then it sorts ; brave warriors , let's away .
+
+Welcome , my lord , to this brave town of York .
+Yonder's the head of that arch-enemy ,
+That sought to be encompass'd with your crown :
+Doth not the object cheer your heart , my lord ?
+
+Ay , as the rocks cheer them that fear their wrack :
+To see this sight , it irks my very soul .
+Withhold revenge , dear God ! 'tis not my fault ,
+Nor wittingly have I infring'd my vow .
+
+My gracious liege , this too much lenity
+And harmful pity must be laid aside .
+To whom do lions cast their gentle looks ?
+Not to the beast that would usurp their den .
+Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick ?
+Not his that spoils her young before her face .
+Who 'scapes the lurking serpent's mortal sting ?
+Not he that sets his foot upon her back .
+The smallest worm will turn being trodden on ,
+And doves will peck in safeguard of their brood .
+Ambitious York did level at thy crown ;
+Thou smiling while he knit his angry brows :
+He , but a duke , would have his son a king ,
+And raise his issue like a loving sire ;
+Thou , being a king , bless'd with a goodly son ,
+Didst yield consent to disinherit him ,
+Which argu'd thee a most unloving father .
+Unreasonable creatures feed their young ;
+And though man's face be fearful to their eyes ,
+Yet , in protection of their tender ones ,
+Who hath not seen them , even with those wings
+Which sometime they have us'd with fearful flight ,
+Make war with him that climb'd unto their nest ,
+Offering their own lives in their young's defence ?
+For shame , my liege ! make them your precedent .
+Were it not pity that this goodly boy
+Should lose his birthright by his father's fault ,
+And long hereafter say unto his child ,
+'What my great grandfather and grandsire got ,
+My careless father fondly gave away ?'
+Ah ! what a shame were this . Look on the boy ;
+And let his manly face , which promiseth
+Successful fortune , steel thy melting heart
+To hold thine own and leave thine own with him .
+
+Full well hath Clifford play'd the orator ,
+Inferring arguments of mighty force .
+But , Clifford , tell me , didst thou never hear
+That things ill got had ever bad success ?
+And happy always was it for that son
+Whose father for his hoarding went to hell ?
+I'll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind ;
+And would my father had left me no more !
+For all the rest is held at such a rate
+As brings a thousand-fold more care to keep
+Than in possession any jot of pleasure .
+Ah ! cousin York , would thy best friends did know
+How it doth grieve me that thy head is here !
+
+My lord , cheer up your spirits : our foes are nigh ,
+And this soft courage makes your followers faint .
+You promis'd knighthood to our forward son :
+Unsheathe your sword , and dub him presently .
+Edward , kneel down .
+
+Edward Plantagenet , arise a knight ;
+And learn this lesson , draw thy sword in right .
+
+My gracious father , by your kingly leave ,
+I'll draw it as apparent to the crown ,
+And in that quarrel use it to the death .
+
+Why , that is spoken like a toward prince .
+
+
+Royal commanders , be in readiness :
+For with a band of thirty thousand men
+Comes Warwick , backing of the Duke of York ;
+And in the towns , as they do march along ,
+Proclaims him king , and many fly to him :
+Darraign your battle , for they are at hand .
+
+I would your highness would depart the field :
+The queen hath best success when you are absent .
+
+Ay , good my lord , and leave us to our fortune .
+
+Why , that's my fortune too ; therefore I'll stay .
+
+Be it with resolution then to fight .
+
+My royal father , cheer these noble lords ,
+And hearten those that fight in your defence :
+Unsheathe your sword , good father : cry , 'Saint George !'
+
+
+Now , perjur'd Henry , wilt thou kneel for grace ,
+And set thy diadem upon my head ;
+Or bide the mortal fortune of the field ?
+
+Go , rate thy minions , proud insulting boy !
+Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms
+Before thy sovereign and thy lawful king ?
+
+I am his king , and he should bow his knee ;
+I was adopted heir by his consent :
+Since when , his oath is broke ; for , as I hear ,
+You , that are king , though he do wear the crown ,
+Have caus'd him , by new act of parliament ,
+To blot out me , and put his own son in .
+
+And reason too :
+Who should succeed the father but the son ?
+
+Are you there , butcher ? O ! I cannot speak .
+
+Ay , crook-back ; here I stand to answer thee ,
+Or any he the proudest of thy sort .
+
+'Twas you that kill'd young Rutland , was it not ?
+
+Ay , and old York , and yet not satisfied .
+
+For God's sake , lords , give signal to the fight .
+
+What sayst thou , Henry , wilt thou yield the crown ?
+
+Why , how now , long-tongu'd Warwick ! dare you speak ?
+When you and I met at Saint Alban's last ,
+Your legs did better service than your hands .
+
+Then 'twas my turn to fly , and now 'tis thine .
+
+You said so much before , and yet you fled .
+
+'Twas not your valour , Clifford , drove me thence .
+
+No , nor your manhood that durst make you stay .
+
+Northumberland , I hold thee reverently .
+Break off the parley ; for scarce I can refrain
+The execution of my big-swoln heart
+Upon that Clifford , that cruel child-killer .
+
+I slew thy father : call'st thou him a child ?
+
+Ay , like a dastard and a treacherous coward ,
+As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland ;
+But ere sun-set I'll make thee curse the deed .
+
+Have done with words , my lords , and hear me speak .
+
+Defy them , then , or else hold close thy lips .
+
+I prithee , give no limits to my tongue :
+I am a king , and privileg'd to speak .
+
+My liege , the wound that bred this meeting here
+Cannot be cur'd by words ; therefore be still .
+
+Then , executioner , unsheathe thy sword .
+By him that made us all , I am resolv'd
+That Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue .
+
+Say , Henry , shall I have my right or no ?
+A thousand men have broke their fasts to-day ,
+That ne'er shall dine unless thou yield the crown .
+
+If thou deny , their blood upon thy head ;
+For York in justice puts his armour on .
+
+If that be right which Warwick says is right ,
+There is no wrong , but everything is right .
+
+Whoever got thee , there thy mother stands ;
+For well I wot thou hast thy mother's tongue .
+
+But thou art neither like thy sire nor dam ,
+But like a foul misshapen stigmatic ,
+Mark'd by the destinies to be avoided ,
+As venom toads , or lizards' dreadful stings .
+
+Iron of Naples hid with English gilt ,
+Whose father bears the title of a king ,
+As if a channel should be call'd the sea ,
+Sham'st thou not , knowing whence thou art extraught ,
+To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart ?
+
+A wisp of straw were worth a thousand crowns ,
+To make this shameless callet know herself .
+Helen of Greece was fairer far than thou ,
+Although thy husband may be Menelaus ;
+And ne'er was Agamemnon's brother wrong'd
+By that false woman as this king by thee .
+His father revell'd in the heart of France ,
+And tam'd the king , and made the Dauphin stoop ;
+And had he match'd according to his state ,
+He might have kept that glory to this day ;
+But when he took a beggar to his bed ,
+And grac'd thy poor sire with his bridal day ,
+Even then that sunshine brew'd a shower for him ,
+That wash'd his father's fortunes forth of France ,
+And heap'd sedition on his crown at home .
+For what hath broach'd this tumult but thy pride ?
+Hadst thou been meek our title still had slept ,
+And we , in pity of the gentle king ,
+Had slipp'd our claim until another age .
+
+But when we saw our sunshine made thy spring ,
+And that thy summer bred us no increase ,
+We set the axe to thy usurping root ;
+And though the edge hath something hit ourselves ,
+Yet know thou , since we have begun to strike ,
+We'll never leave , till we have hewn thee down ,
+Or bath'd thy growing with our heated bloods .
+
+And in this resolution I defy thee ;
+Not willing any longer conference ,
+Since thou deny'st the gentle king to speak .
+Sound trumpets !let our bloody colours wave !
+And either victory , or else a grave .
+
+Stay , Edward .
+
+No , wrangling woman , we'll no longer stay :
+These words will cost ten thousand lives this day
+
+
+Forspent with toil , as runners with a race ,
+I lay me down a little while to breathe ;
+For strokes receiv'd , and many blows repaid ,
+Have robb'd my strong-knit sinews of their strength ,
+And spite of spite needs must I rest a while .
+
+
+Smile , gentle heaven ! or strike , ungentle death !
+For this world frowns , and Edward's sun is clouded .
+
+How now , my lord ! what hap ? what hope of good ?
+
+
+Our hap is loss , our hope but sad despair ,
+Our ranks are broke , and ruin follows us .
+What counsel give you ? whither shall we fly ?
+
+Bootless is flight , they follow us with wings ;
+And weak we are and cannot shun pursuit .
+
+
+Ah ! Warwick , why hast thou withdrawn thyself ?
+Thy brother's blood the thirsty earth hath drunk ,
+Broach'd with the steely point of Clifford's lance ;
+And in the very pangs of death he cried ,
+Like to a dismal clangor heard from far ,
+'Warwick , revenge ! brother , revenge my death !'
+So , underneath the belly of their steeds ,
+That stain'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood ,
+The noble gentleman gave up the ghost .
+
+Then let the earth be drunken with our blood :
+I'll kill my horse because I will not fly .
+Why stand we like soft-hearted women here ,
+Wailing our losses , whiles the foe doth rage ;
+And look upon , as if the tragedy
+Were play'd in jest by counterfeiting actors ?
+Here on my knee I vow to God above ,
+I'll never pause again , never stand still
+Till either death hath clos'd these eyes of mine ,
+Of fortune given me measure of revenge .
+
+O Warwick ! I do bend my knee with thine ;
+And in this vow do chain my soul to thine .
+And , ere my knee rise from the earth's cold face ,
+I throw my hands , mine eyes , my heart to thee ,
+Thou setter up and plucker down of kings ,
+Beseeching thee , if with thy will it stands
+That to my foes this body must be prey ,
+Yet that thy brazen gates of heaven may ope ,
+And give sweet passage to my sinful soul !
+Now , lords , take leave until we meet again ,
+Where'er it be , in heaven or in earth .
+
+Brother , give me thy hand ; and , gentle Warwick ,
+Let me embrace thee in my weary arms :
+I , that did never weep , now melt with woe
+That winter should cut off our spring-time so .
+
+Away , away ! Once more , sweet lords , farewell .
+
+Yet let us all together to our troops ,
+And give them leave to fly that will not stay ,
+And call them pillars that will stand to us ;
+And if we thrive , promise them such rewards
+As victors wear at the Olympian games .
+This may plant courage in their quailing breasts ;
+For yet is hope of life and victory .
+Forslow no longer ; make we hence amain .
+
+
+Now , Clifford , I have singled thee alone .
+Suppose this arm is for the Duke of York ,
+And this for Rutland ; both bound to revenge ,
+Wert thou environ'd with a brazen wall .
+
+Now , Richard , I am with thee here alone .
+This is the hand that stabb'd thy father York ,
+And this the hand that slew thy brother Rutland ;
+And here's the heart that triumphs in their death
+And cheers these hands that slew thy sire and brother ,
+To execute the like upon thyself ;
+And so , have at thee !
+
+
+Nay , Warwick , single out some other chase ;
+For I myself will hunt this wolf to death .
+
+
+This battle fares like to the morning's war ,
+When dying clouds contend with growing light ,
+What time the shepherd , blowing of his nails ,
+Can neither call it perfect day nor night .
+Now sways it this way , like a mighty sea
+Forc'd by the tide to combat with the wind ;
+Now sways it that way , like the self-same sea
+Forc'd to retire by fury of the wind :
+Sometime the flood prevails , and then the wind ;
+Now one the better , then another best ;
+Both tugging to be victors , breast to breast ,
+Yet neither conqueror nor conquered :
+So is the equal poise of this fell war .
+Here on this molehill will I sit me down .
+To whom God will , there be the victory !
+For Margaret my queen , and Clifford too ,
+Have chid me from the battle ; swearing both
+They prosper best of all when I am thence .
+Would I were dead ! if God's good will were so ;
+For what is in this world but grief and woe ?
+O God ! methinks it were a happy life ,
+To be no better than a homely swain ;
+To sit upon a hill , as I do now ,
+To carve out dials quaintly , point by point ,
+Thereby to see the minutes how they run ,
+How many make the hour full complete ;
+How many hours bring about the day ;
+How many days will finish up the year ;
+How many years a mortal man may live .
+When this is known , then to divide the times :
+So many hours must I tend my flock ;
+So many hours must I take my rest ;
+So many hours must I contemplate ;
+So many hours must I sport myself ;
+So many days my ewes have been with young ;
+So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean ;
+So many years ere I shall shear the fleece :
+So minutes , hours , days , months , and years ,
+Pass'd over to the end they were created ,
+Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave .
+Ah ! what a life were this ! how sweet ! how lovely !
+Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade
+To shepherds , looking on their silly sheep ,
+Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy
+To kings , that fear their subjects' treachery ?
+O , yes ! it doth ; a thousand-fold it doth .
+And to conclude , the shepherd's homely curds ,
+His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle ,
+His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade ,
+All which secure and sweetly he enjoys ,
+Is far beyond a prince's delicates ,
+His viands sparkling in a golden cup ,
+His body couched in a curious bed ,
+When care , mistrust , and treason wait on him .
+
+
+Ill blows the wind that profits nobody .
+This man whom hand to hand I slew in fight ,
+May be possessed with some store of crowns ;
+And I , that haply take them from him now ,
+May yet ere night yield both my life and them
+To some man else , as this dead man doth me .
+Who's this ? O God ! it is my father's face ,
+Whom in this conflict I unwares have kill'd .
+O heavy times , begetting such events !
+From London by the king was I press'd forth ;
+My father , being the Earl of Warwick's man ,
+Came on the part of York , press'd by his master ;
+And I , who at his hands receiv'd my life ,
+Have by my hands of life bereaved him .
+Pardon me , God , I knew not what I did !
+And pardon , father , for I knew not thee !
+My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks ;
+And no more words till they have flow'd their fill .
+
+O piteous spectacle ! O bloody times !
+Whiles lions war and battle for their dens ,
+Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity .
+Weep , wretched man , I'll aid thee tear for tear ;
+And let our hearts and eyes , like civil war ,
+Be blind with tears , and break o'ercharg'd with grief .
+
+
+Thou that so stoutly hast resisted me ,
+Give me thy gold , if thou hast any gold ,
+For I have bought it with a hundred blows .
+But let me see : is this our foeman's face ?
+Ah ! no , no , no , it is mine only son .
+Ah ! boy , if any life be left in thee ,
+Throw up thine eye : see , see ! what showers arise ,
+Blown with the windy tempest of my heart ,
+Upon thy wounds , that kill mine eye and heart .
+O ! pity , God , this miserable age .
+What stratagems , how fell , how butcherly ,
+Erroneous , mutinous , and unnatural ,
+This deadly quarrel daily doth beget !
+O boy ! thy father gave thee life too soon ,
+And hath bereft thee of thy life too late .
+
+Woe above woe ! grief more than common grief !
+O ! that my death would stay these ruthful deeds .
+O ! pity , pity ; gentle heaven , pity .
+The red rose and the white are on his face ,
+The fatal colours of our striving houses :
+The one his purple blood right well resembles ;
+The other his pale cheeks , methinks , presenteth :
+Wither one rose , and let the other flourish !
+If you contend , a thousand lives must wither .
+
+How will my mother for a father's death
+Take on with me and ne'er be satisfied !
+
+How will my wife for slaughter of my son
+Shed seas of tears and ne'er be satisfied !
+
+How will the country for these woeful chances
+Misthink the king and not be satisfied !
+
+Was ever son so ru'd a father's death ?
+
+Was ever father so bemoan'd a son ?
+
+Was ever king so griev'd for subjects' woe ?
+Much is your sorrow ; mine , ten times so much .
+
+I'll bear thee hence , where I may weep my fill .
+
+
+These arms of mine shall be thy winding-sheet ;
+My heart , sweet boy , shall be thy sepulchre ,
+For from my heart thine image ne'er shall go :
+My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell ;
+And so obsequious will thy father be ,
+E'en for the loss of thee , having no more ,
+As Priam was for all his valiant sons .
+I'll bear thee hence ; and let them fight that will ,
+For I have murder'd where I should not kill .
+
+
+Sad-hearted men ,' much overgone with care ,
+Here sits a king more woeful than you are .
+
+
+Fly , father , fly ! for all your friends are fled ,
+And Warwick rages like a chafed bull .
+Away ! for death doth hold us in pursuit .
+
+Mount you , my lord ; towards Berwick post amain .
+Edward and Richard , like a brace of greyhounds
+Having the fearful flying hare in sight ,
+With fiery eyes sparkling for very wrath ,
+And bloody steel grasp'd in their ireful hands ,
+Are at our backs ; and therefore hence amain .
+
+Away ! for vengeance comes along with them .
+Nay , stay not to expostulate ; make speed ,
+Or else come after : I'll away before .
+
+Nay , take me with thee , good sweet Exeter :
+Not that I fear to stay , but love to go
+Whither the queen intends . Forward ! away !
+
+
+Here burns my candle out ; ay , here it dies ,
+Which , while it lasted , gave King Henry light .
+O Lancaster ! I fear thy overthrow
+More than my body's parting with my soul .
+My love and fear glu'd many friends to thee ;
+And , now I fall , thy tough commixtures melt ,
+Impairing Henry , strengthening misproud York :
+The common people swarm like summer flies ;
+And whither fly the gnats but to the sun ?
+And who shines now but Henry's enemies ?
+O Ph bus ! hadst thou never given consent
+That Ph thon should check thy fiery steeds ,
+Thy burning car never had scorch'd the earth ;
+And , Henry , hadst thou sway'd as kings should do ,
+Or as thy father and his father did ,
+Giving no ground unto the house of York ,
+They never then had sprung like summer flies ;
+I and ten thousand in this luckless realm
+Had left no mourning widows for our death ,
+And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace .
+For what doth cherish weeds but gentle air ?
+And what makes robbers bold but too much lenity ?
+Bootless are plaints , and cureless are my wounds ;
+No way to fly , nor strength to hold out flight :
+The foe is merciless , and will not pity ;
+For at their hands I have deserv'd no pity .
+The air hath got into my deadly wounds ,
+And much effuse of blood doth make me faint .
+Come , York and Richard , Warwick and the rest ;
+I stabb'd your fathers' bosoms , split my breast .
+
+Now breathe we , lords : good fortune bids us pause ,
+And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful looks .
+Some troops pursue the bloody-minded queen ,
+That led calm Henry , though he were a king ,
+As doth a sail , fill'd with a fretting gust ,
+Command an argosy to stern the waves .
+But think you , lords , that Clifford fled with them ?
+
+No , 'tis impossible he should escape ;
+For , though before his face I speak the words ,
+Your brother Richard mark'd him for the grave ;
+And wheresoe'er he is , he's surely dead .
+
+
+Whose soul is that which takes her heavy leave ?
+
+A deadly groan , like life and death's departing .
+
+See who it is : and now the battle's ended ,
+If friend or foe let him be gently us'd .
+
+Revoke that doom of mercy , for 'tis Clifford ;
+Who not contented that he lopp'd the branch
+In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth ,
+But set his murd'ring knife unto the root
+From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring ,
+I mean our princely father , Duke of York .
+
+From off the gates of York fetch down the head ,
+Your father's head , which Clifford placed there ;
+Instead whereof let this supply the room :
+Measure for measure must be answered .
+
+Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to our house ,
+That nothing sung but death to us and ours :
+Now death shall stop his dismal threatening sound ,
+And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak .
+
+
+I think his understanding is bereft .
+Speak , Clifford ; dost thou know who speaks to thee ?
+Dark cloudy death o'ershades his beams of life ,
+And he nor sees , nor hears us what we say .
+
+O ! would he did ; and so perhaps he doth :
+'Tis but his policy to counterfeit ,
+Because he would avoid such bitter taunts
+Which in the time of death he gave our father .
+
+If so thou think'st , vex him with eager words .
+
+Clifford ! ask mercy and obtain no grace .
+
+Clifford , repent in bootless penitence .
+
+Clifford ! devise excuses for thy faults .
+
+While we devise fell tortures for thy faults .
+
+Thou didst love York , and I am son to York .
+
+Thou pitiedst Rutland , I will pity thee .
+
+Where's Captain Margaret , to fence you now ?
+
+They mock thee , Clifford : swear as thou wast wont .
+
+What ! not an oath ? nay , then the world goes hard
+When Clifford cannot spare his friends an oath .
+I know by that he's dead ; and , by my soul ,
+If this right hand would buy two hours' life ,
+That I in all despite might rail at him ,
+This hand should chop it off , and with the issuing blood
+Stifle the villain whose unstaunched thirst
+York and young Rutland could not satisfy .
+
+Ay , but he's dead : off with the traitor's head ,
+And rear it in the place your father's stands .
+And now to London with triumphant march ,
+There to be crowned England's royal king :
+From whence shall Warwick cut the sea to France ,
+And ask the Lady Bona for thy queen .
+So shalt thou sinew both these lands together ;
+And , having France thy friend , thou shalt not dread
+The scatter'd foe that hopes to rise again ;
+For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt ,
+Yet look to have them buzz to offend thine ears .
+First will I see the coronation ;
+And then to Brittany I'll cross the sea ,
+To effect this marriage , so it please my lord .
+
+Even as thou wilt , sweet Warwick , let it be ;
+For on thy shoulder do I build my seat ,
+And never will I undertake the thing
+Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting .
+Richard , I will create thee Duke of Gloucester ;
+And George , of Clarence ; Warwick , as ourself ,
+Shall do and undo as him pleaseth best .
+
+Let me be Duke of Clarence , George of Gloucester ,
+For Gloucester's dukedom is too ominous .
+
+Tut ! that's a foolish observation :
+Richard , be Duke of Gloucester . Now to London ,
+To see these honours in possession .
+
+Under this thick-grown hrake we'll shroud ourselves ;
+For through this laund anon the deer will come ;
+And in this covert will we make our stand ,
+Culling the principal of all the deer .
+
+I'll stay above the hill , so both may shoot .
+
+That cannot be ; the noise of thy cross-bow
+Will scare the herd , and so my shoot is lost .
+Here stand we both , and aim we at the best :
+And , for the time shall not seem tedious ,
+I'll tell thee what befell me on a day
+In this self place where now we mean to stand .
+
+Here comes a man ; let's stay till he be past .
+
+
+From Scotland am I stol'n , even of pure love ,
+To greet mine own land with my wishful sight .
+No , Harry , Harry , 'tis no land of thine ;
+Thy place is fill'd , thy sceptre wrung from thee ,
+Thy balm wash'd off wherewith thou wast anointed :
+No bending knee will call thee C sar now ,
+No humble suitors press to speak for right ,
+No , not a man comes for redress of thee ;
+For how can I help them , and not myself ?
+
+Ay , here's a deer whose skin's a keeper's fee :
+This is the quondam king ; let's seize upon him .
+
+Let me embrace thee , sour adversity ,
+For wise men say it is the wisest course .
+
+Why linger we ? let us lay hands upon him .
+
+Forbear awhile ; we'll hear a little more .
+
+My queen and son are gone to France for aid ;
+And , as I hear , the great commanding Warwick
+Is thither gone , to crave the French king's sister
+To wife for Edward . If this news be true ,
+Poor queen and son , your labour is but lost ;
+For Warwick is a subtle orator ,
+And Lewis a prince soon won with moving words .
+By this account then Margaret may win him ,
+For she's a woman to be pitied much :
+Her sighs will make a battery in his breast ;
+Her tears will pierce into a marble heart ;
+The tiger will be mild whiles she doth mourn ;
+And Nero will be tainted with remorse ,
+To hear and see her plaints , her brinish tears .
+Ay , but she's come to beg ; Warwick , to give :
+She on his left side craving aid for Henry ;
+He on his right asking a wife for Edward .
+She weeps , and says her Henry is depos'd ;
+He smiles , and says his Edward is install'd ;
+That she , poor wretch , for grief can speak no more :
+Whiles Warwick tells his title , smooths the wrong ,
+Inferreth arguments of mighty strength ,
+And in conclusion wins the king from her ,
+With promise of his sister , and what else ,
+To strengthen and support King Edward's place .
+O Margaret ! thus 'twill be ; and thou , poor soul ,
+Art then forsaken , as thou went'st forlorn .
+
+Say , what art thou , that talk'st of kings and queens ?
+
+More than I seem , and less than I was born to :
+A man at least , for less I should not be ;
+And men may talk of kings , and why not I ?
+
+Ay , but thou talk'st as if thou wert a king .
+
+Why , so I am , in mind ; and that's enough .
+
+But , if thou be a king , where is thy crown ?
+
+My crown is in my heart , not on my head ;
+Not deck'd with diamonds and Indian stones ,
+Nor to be seen : my crown is call'd content ;
+A crown it is that seldom kings enjoy .
+
+Well , if you be a king crown'd with content ,
+Your crown content and you must be contented
+To go along with us ; for , as we think ,
+You are the king King Edward hath depos'd ;
+And we his subjects , sworn in all allegiance ,
+Will apprehend you as his enemy .
+
+But did you never swear , and break an oath ?
+
+No , never such an oath ; nor will not now .
+
+Where did you dwell when I was King of England ?
+
+Here in this country , where we now remain .
+
+I was anointed king at nine months old ;
+My father and my grandfather were kings ,
+And you were sworn true subjects unto me :
+And tell me , then , have you not broke your oaths ?
+
+No ;
+For we were subjects but while you were king .
+
+Why , am I dead ? do I not breathe a man ?
+Ah ! simple men , you know not what you swear .
+Look , as I blow this feather from my face ,
+And as the air blows it to me again ,
+Obeying with my wind when I do blow ,
+And yielding to another when it blows ,
+Commanded always by the greater gust ;
+Such is the lightness of you common men .
+But do not break your oaths ; for of that sin
+My mild entreaty shall not make you guilty .
+Go where you will , the king shall be commanded ;
+And be you kings : command , and I'll obey .
+
+We are true subjects to the king , King Edward .
+
+So would you be again to Henry ,
+If he were seated as King Edward is .
+
+We charge you , in God's name , and in the king's ,
+To go with us unto the officers .
+
+In God's name , lead ; your king's name be obey'd :
+And what God will , that let your king perform ;
+And what he will , I humbly yield unto .
+
+
+Brother of Gloucester , at Saint Alban's field
+This lady's husband , Sir John Grey , was slain ,
+His lands then seiz'd on by the conqueror :
+Her suit is now , to repossess those lands ;
+Which we in justice cannot well deny ,
+Because in quarrel of the house of York
+The worthy gentleman did lose his life .
+
+Your highness shall do well to grant her suit ;
+It were dishonour to deny it her .
+
+It were no less : but yet I'll make a pause .
+
+Yea ; is it so ?
+I see the lady hath a thing to grant
+Before the king will grant her humble suit .
+
+He knows the game : how true he keeps the wind !
+
+Silence !
+
+Widow , we will consider of your suit ,
+And come some other time to know our mind .
+
+Right gracious lord , I cannot brook delay :
+May it please your highness to resolve me now ,
+And what your pleasure is shall satisfy me .
+
+Ay , widow ? then I'll warrant you all your lands ,
+An if what pleases him shall pleasure you ,
+Fight closer , or , good faith , you'll catch a blow .
+
+I fear her not , unless she chance to fall .
+
+God forbid that ! for he'll take vantages .
+
+How many children hast thou , widow ? tell me .
+
+I think he means to beg a child of her .
+
+Nay , whip me , then ; he'll rather give her two .
+
+Three , my most gracious lord .
+
+You shall have four , if you'll be rul'd by him .
+
+'Twere pity they should lose their father's lands .
+
+Be pitiful , dread lord , and grant it then .
+
+Lords , give us leave : I'll try this widow's wit .
+
+Ay , good leave have you ; for you will have leave ,
+Till youth take leave and leave you to the crutch .
+
+
+Now , tell me , madam , do you love your children ?
+
+Ay , full as dearly as I love myself .
+
+And would you not do much to do them good ?
+
+To do them good I would sustain some harm .
+
+Then get your husband's lands , to do them good .
+
+Therefore I came unto your majesty .
+
+I'll tell you how these lands are to be got .
+
+So shall you bind me to your highness' service .
+
+What service wilt thou do me , if I give them ?
+
+What you command , that rests in me to do .
+
+But you will take exceptions to my boon .
+
+No , gracious lord , except I cannot do it .
+
+Ay , but thou canst do what I mean to ask .
+
+Why , then I will do what your Grace commands .
+
+He plies her hard ; and much rain wears the marble .
+
+As red as fire ! nay , then her wax must melt .
+
+Why stops my lord ? shall I not hear my task ?
+
+An easy task : 'tis but to love a king .
+
+That's soon perform'd , because I am a subject .
+
+Why then , thy husband's lands I freely give thee .
+
+I take my leave with many thousand thanks .
+
+The match is made ; she seals it with a curtsy .
+
+But stay thee ; 'tis the fruits of love I mean .
+
+The fruits of love I mean , my loving liege .
+
+Ay , but , I fear me , in another sense .
+What love think'st thou I sue so much to get ?
+
+My love till death , my humble thanks , my prayers :
+That love which virtue begs and virtue grants .
+
+No , by my troth , I did not mean such love .
+
+Why , then you mean not as I thought you did .
+
+But now you partly may perceive my mind .
+
+My mind will never grant what I perceive
+Your highness aims at , if I aim aright .
+
+To tell thee plain , I aim to lie with thee .
+
+To tell you plain , I had rather lie in prison .
+
+Why , then thou shalt not have thy husband's lands .
+
+Why , then mine honesty shall be my dower ;
+For by that loss I will not purchase them .
+
+Therein thou wrong'st thy children mightily .
+
+Herein your highness wrongs both them and me .
+But , mighty lord , this merry inclination
+Accords not with the sadness of my suit :
+Please you dismiss me , either with 'ay ,' or 'no .'
+
+Ay , if thou wilt say 'ay' to my request ;
+No , if thou dost say 'no' to my demand .
+
+Then , no , my lord . My suit is at an end .
+
+The widow likes him not , she knits her brows .
+
+He is the bluntest wooer in Christendom .
+
+Her looks do argue her replete with modesty ;
+Her words do show her wit incomparable ;
+All her perfections challenge sovereignty :
+One way or other , she is for a king ;
+And she shall be my love , or else my queen .
+Say that King Edward take thee for his queen ?
+
+'Tis better said than done , my gracious lord :
+I am a subject fit to jest withal ,
+But far unfit to be a sovereign .
+
+Sweet widow , by my state I swear to thee ,
+I speak no more than what my soul intends ;
+And that is , to enjoy thee for my love .
+
+And that is more than I will yield unto .
+I know I am too mean to be your queen ,
+And yet too good to be your concubine .
+
+You cavil , widow : I did mean , my queen .
+
+'Twill grieve your Grace my sons should call you father .
+
+No more than when my daughters call thee mother .
+Thou art a widow , and thou hast some children ;
+And , by God's mother , I , being but a bachelor ,
+Have other some : why , 'tis a happy thing
+To be the father unto many sons .
+Answer no more , for thou shalt be my queen .
+
+The ghostly father now hath done his shrift .
+
+When he was made a shriver , 'twas for shift .
+
+Brothers , you muse what chat we two have had .
+
+The widow likes it not , for she looks very sad .
+
+You'd think it strange if I should marry her .
+
+To whom , my lord ?
+
+Why , Clarence , to myself .
+
+That would be ten days' wonder at the least .
+
+That's a day longer than a wonder lasts .
+
+By so much is the wonder in extremes .
+
+Well , jest on , brothers : I can tell you both
+Her suit is granted for her husband's lands .
+
+
+My gracious lord , Henry your foe is taken ,
+And brought as prisoner to your palace gate .
+
+See that he be convey'd unto the Tower :
+And go we , brothers , to the man that took him ,
+To question of his apprehension .
+Widow , go you along . Lords , use her honourably .
+
+
+Ay , Edward will use women honourably .
+Would he were wasted , marrow , bones , and all ,
+That from his loins no hopeful branch may spring ,
+To cross me from the golden time I look for !
+And yet , between my soul's desire and me
+The lustful Edward's title buried ,
+Is Clarence , Henry , and his son young Edward ,
+And all the unlook'd for issue of their bodies ,
+To take their rooms , ere I can place myself :
+A cold premeditation for my purpose !
+Why then , I do but dream on sovereignty ;
+Like one that stands upon a promontory ,
+And spies a far-off shore where he would tread ,
+Wishing his foot were equal with his eye ;
+And chides the sea that sunders him from thence ,
+Saying , he'll lade it dry to have his way :
+So do I wish the crown , being so far off ,
+And so I chide the means that keep me from it ,
+And so I say I'll cut the causes off ,
+Flattering me with impossibilities .
+My eye's too quick , my heart o'erweens too much ,
+Unless my hand and strength could equal them .
+Well , say there is no kingdom then for Richard ;
+What other pleasure can the world afford ?
+I'll make my heaven in a lady's lap ,
+And deck my body in gay ornaments ,
+And witch sweet ladies with my words and looks .
+O miserable thought ! and more unlikely
+Than to accomplish twenty golden crowns .
+Why , love forswore me in my mother's womb :
+And , for I should not deal in her soft laws ,
+She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe ,
+To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub ;
+To make an envious mountain on my back ,
+Where sits deformity to mock my body ;
+To shape my legs of an unequal size ;
+To disproportion me in every part ,
+Like to a chaos , or an unlick'd bear-whelp
+That carries no impression like the dam .
+And am I then a man to be belov'd ?
+O monstrous fault ! to harbour such a thought .
+Then , since this earth affords no joy to me
+But to command , to check , to o'erbear such
+As are of better person than myself ,
+I'll make my heaven to dream upon the crown ;
+And , whiles I live , to account this world but hell ,
+Until my mis-shap'd trunk that bears this head
+Be round impaled with a glorious crown .
+And yet I know not how to get the crown ,
+For many lives stand between me and home :
+And I , like one lost in a thorny wood ,
+That rents the thorns and is rent with the thorns ,
+Seeking a way and straying from the way ;
+Not knowing how to find the open air ,
+But toiling desperately to find it out ,
+Torment myself to catch the English crown :
+And from that torment I will free myself ,
+Or hew my way out with a bloody axe .
+Why , I can smile , and murder while I smile ,
+And cry , 'Content ,' to that which grieves my heart ,
+And wet my cheeks with artificial tears ,
+And frame my face to all occasions .
+I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall ;
+I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk ;
+I'll play the orator as well as Nestor ,
+Deceive more slily than Ulysses could ,
+And , like a Sinon , take another Troy .
+I can add colours to the chameleon ,
+Change shapes with Proteus for advantages ,
+And set the murd'rous Machiavel to school .
+Can I do this , and cannot get a crown ?
+Tut ! were it further off , I'll pluck it down .
+
+Fair Queen of England , worthy Margaret ,
+Sit down with us : it ill befits thy state
+And birth , that thou shouldst stand while Lewis doth sit .
+
+No , mighty King of France : now Margaret
+Must strike her sail , and learn a while to serve
+Where kings command . I was , I must confess ,
+Great Albion's queen in former golden days ;
+But now mischance hath trod my title down ,
+And with dishonour laid me on the ground ,
+Where I must take like seat unto my fortune ,
+And to my humble seat conform myself .
+
+Why , say , fair queen , whence springs this deep despair ?
+
+From such a cause as fills mine eyes with tears
+And stops my tongue , while heart is drown'd in cares .
+
+Whate'er it be , be thou still like thyself ,
+And sit thee by our side .
+
+Yield not thy neck
+To fortune's yoke , but let thy dauntless mind
+Still ride in triumph over all mischance .
+Be plain , Queen Margaret , and tell thy grief ;
+It shall be eas'd , if France can yield relief .
+
+Those gracious words revive my drooping thoughts ,
+And give my tongue-tied sorrows leave to speak .
+Now , therefore , be it known to noble Lewis ,
+That Henry , sole possessor of my love ,
+Is of a king become a banish'd man ,
+And forc'd to live in Scotland a forlorn ;
+While proud ambitious Edward Duke of York
+Usurps the regal title and the seat
+Of England's true-anointed lawful king .
+This is the cause that I , poor Margaret ,
+With this my son , Prince Edward , Henry's heir ,
+Am come to crave thy just and lawful aid ;
+And if thou fail us , all our hope is done .
+Scotland hath will to help , but cannot help ;
+Our people and our peers are both misled ,
+Our treasure seiz'd , our soldiers put to flight ,
+And , as thou seest , ourselves in heavy plight .
+
+Renowned queen , with patience calm the storm ,
+While we bethink a means to break it off .
+
+The more we stay , the stronger grows our foe .
+
+The more I stay , the more I'll succour thee .
+
+O ! but impatience waiteth on true sorrow :
+And see where comes the breeder of my sorrow .
+
+
+What's he , approacheth boldly to our presence ?
+
+Our Earl of Warwick , Edward's greatest friend .
+
+Welcome , brave Warwick ! What brings thee to France ?
+
+
+Ay , now begins a second storm to rise ;
+For this is he that moves both wind and tide .
+
+From worthy Edward , King of Albion ,
+My lord and sovereign , and thy vowed friend ,
+I come , in kindness and unfeigned love ,
+First , to do greetings to thy royal person ;
+And then to crave a league of amity ;
+And lastly to confirm that amity
+With nuptial knot , if thou vouchsafe to grant
+That virtuous Lady Bona , thy fair sister ,
+To England's king in lawful marriage .
+
+If that go forward , Henry's hope is done .
+
+And , gracious madam , in our king's behalf ,
+I am commanded , with your leave and favour ,
+Humbly to kiss your hand , and with my tongue
+To tell the passion of my sov'reign's heart ;
+Where fame , late entering at his heedful ears ,
+Hath plac'd thy beauty's image and thy virtue .
+
+King Lewis and Lady Bona , hear me speak ,
+Before you answer Warwick . His demand
+Springs not from Edward's well-meant honest love ,
+But from deceit bred by necessity ;
+For how can tyrants safely govern home ,
+Unless abroad they purchase great alliance ?
+To prove him tyrant this reason may suffice ,
+That Henry liveth still ; but were he dead ,
+Yet here Prince Edward stands , King Henry's son .
+Look , therefore , Lewis , that by this league and marriage
+Thou draw not on thy danger and dishonour ;
+For though usurpers sway the rule awhile ,
+Yet heavens are just , and time suppresseth wrongs .
+
+Injurious Margaret !
+
+And why not queen ?
+
+Because thy father Henry did usurp ,
+And thou no more art prince than she is queen .
+
+Then Warwick disannuls great John of Gaunt ,
+Which did subdue the greatest part of Spain ;
+And , after John of Gaunt , Henry the Fourth ,
+Whose wisdom was a mirror to the wisest ;
+And , after that wise prince , Henry the Fifth ,
+Who by his prowess conquered all France :
+From these our Henry lineally descends .
+
+Oxford , how haps it , in this smooth discourse ,
+You told not how Henry the Sixth hath lost
+All that which Henry the Fifth had gotten ?
+Methinks these peers of France should smile at that .
+But for the rest , you tell a pedigree
+Of threescore and two years ; a silly time
+To make prescription for a kingdom's worth .
+
+Why , Warwick , canst thou speak against thy liege ,
+Whom thou obeyedst thirty and six years ,
+And not bewray thy treason with a blush ?
+
+Can Oxford , that did ever fence the right ,
+Now buckler falsehood with a pedigree ?
+For shame ! leave Henry , and call Edward king .
+
+Call him my king , by whose injurious doom
+My elder brother , the Lord Aubrey Vere ,
+Was done to death ? and more than so , my father ,
+Even in the downfall of his mellow'd years ,
+When nature brought him to the door of death ?
+No , Warwick , no ; while life upholds this arm ,
+This arm upholds the house of Lancaster .
+
+And I the house of York .
+
+Queen Margaret , Prince Edward , and Oxford ,
+Vouchsafe at our request to stand aside ,
+While I use further conference with Warwick .
+
+
+Heaven grant that Warwick's words bewitch him not !
+
+Now , Warwick , tell me , even upon thy conscience ,
+Is Edward your true king ? for I were loath
+To link with him that were not lawful chosen .
+
+Thereon I pawn my credit and mine honour .
+
+But is he gracious in the people's eye ?
+
+The more that Henry was unfortunate .
+
+Then further , all dissembling set aside ,
+Tell me for truth the measure of his love
+Unto our sister Bona .
+
+Such it seems
+As may beseem a monarch like himself .
+Myself have often heard him say and swear
+That this his love was an eternal plant ,
+Whereof the root was fix'd in virtue's ground ,
+The leaves and fruit maintain'd with beauty's sun ,
+Exempt from envy , but not from disdain ,
+Unless the Lady Bona quit his pain .
+
+Now , sister , let us hear your firm resolve .
+
+Your grant , or your denial , shall be mine :
+
+
+Yet I confess that often ere this day ,
+When I have heard your king's desert recounted ,
+Mine ear hath tempted judgment to desire .
+
+Then , Warwick , thus : our sister shall be Edward's ;
+And now forthwith shall articles be drawn
+Touching the jointure that your king must make ,
+Which with her dowry shall be counterpois'd .
+Draw near , Queen Margaret , and be a witness
+That Bona shall be wife to the English king .
+
+To Edward , but not to the English king .
+
+Deceitful Warwick ! it was thy device
+By this alliance to make void my suit :
+Before thy coming Lewis was Henry's friend .
+
+And still is friend to him and Margaret :
+But if your title to the crown be weak ,
+As may appear by Edward's good success ,
+Then 'tis but reason that I be releas'd
+From giving aid which late I promised .
+Yet shall you have all kindness at my hand
+That your estate requires and mine can yield .
+
+Henry now lives in Scotland at his ease ,
+Where having nothing , nothing can he lose .
+And as for you yourself , our quondam queen ,
+You have a father able to maintain you ,
+And better 'twere you troubled him than France .
+
+Peace ! impudent and shameless Warwick , peace ;
+Proud setter up and puller down of kings ;
+I will not hence , till , with my talk and tears ,
+Both full of truth , I make King Lewis behold
+Thy sly conveyance and thy lord's false love ;
+For both of you are birds of self-same feather .
+
+
+Warwick , this is some post to us or thee .
+
+
+My lord ambassador , these letters are for you ,
+Sent from your brother , Marquess Montague :
+These from our king unto your majesty ;
+
+
+And , madam , these for you ; from whom I know not .
+
+
+I like it well that our fair queen and mistress
+Smiles at her news , while Warwick frowns at his .
+
+Nay , mark how Lewis stamps as he were nettled :
+I hope all's for the best .
+
+Warwick , what are thy news ? and yours , fair queen ?
+
+Mine , such as fill my heart with unhop'd joys .
+
+Mine , full of sorrow and heart's discontent .
+
+What ! has your king married the Lady Grey ?
+And now , to soothe your forgery and his ,
+Sends me a paper to persuade me patience ?
+Is this the alliance that he seeks with France ?
+Dare he presume to scorn us in this manner ?
+
+I told your majesty as much before :
+This proveth Edward's love and Warwick's honesty .
+
+King Lewis , I here protest , in sight of heaven ,
+And by the hope I have of heavenly bliss ,
+That I am clear from this misdeed of Edward's ;
+No more my king , for he dishonours me ;
+But most himself , if he could see his shame .
+Did I forget that by the house of York
+My father came untimely to his death ?
+Did I let pass the abuse done to my niece ?
+Did I impale him with the regal crown ?
+Did I put Henry from his native right ?
+And am I guerdon'd at the last with shame ?
+Shame on himself ! for my desert is honour :
+And , to repair my honour , lost for him ,
+I here renounce him and return to Henry .
+My noble queen , let former grudges pass ,
+And henceforth I am thy true servitor .
+I will revenge his wrong to Lady Bona ,
+And replant Henry in his former state .
+
+Warwick , these words have turn'd my hate to love ;
+And I forgive and quite forget old faults ,
+And joy that thou becom'st King Henry's friend .
+
+So much his friend , ay , his unfeigned friend ,
+That , if King Lewis vouchsafe to furnish us
+With some few bands of chosen soldiers ,
+I'll undertake to land them on our coast ,
+And force the tyrant from his seat by war .
+'Tis not his new-made bride shall succour him :
+And as for Clarence , as my letters tell me ,
+He's very likely now to fall from him ,
+For matching more for wanton lust than honour ,
+Or than for strength and safety of our country .
+
+Dear brother , how shall Bona be reveng'd ,
+But by thy help to this distressed queen ?
+
+Renowned prince , how shall poor Henry live ,
+Unless thou rescue him from foul despair ?
+
+My quarrel and this English queen's are one .
+
+And mine , fair Lady Bona , joins with yours .
+
+And mine with hers , and thine and Margaret's .
+Therefore , at last , I firmly am resolv'd
+You shall have aid .
+
+Let me give humble thanks for all at once .
+
+Then , England's messenger , return in post ,
+And tell false Edward , thy supposed king ,
+That Lewis of France is sending over masquers ,
+To revel it with him and his new bride .
+Thou seest what's past ; go fear thy king withal .
+
+Tell him , in hope he'll prove a widower shortly ,
+I'll wear the willow garland for his sake .
+
+Tell him , my mourning weeds are laid aside ,
+And I am ready to put armour on .
+
+Tell him from me , that he hath done me wrong ,
+And therefore I'll uncrown him ere't be long .
+There's thy reward : be gone .
+
+
+But , Warwick ,
+Thou and Oxford , with five thousand men ,
+Shall cross the seas , and bid false Edward battle ;
+And , as occasion serves , this noble queen
+And prince shall follow with a fresh supply .
+Yet ere thou go , but answer me one doubt :
+What pledge have we of thy firm loyalty ?
+
+This shall assure my constant loyalty :
+That if our queen and this young prince agree ,
+I'll join mine eldest daughter and my joy
+To him forthwith in holy wedlock bands .
+
+Yes , I agree , and thank you for your motion .
+Son Edward , she is fair and virtuous ,
+Therefore delay not , give thy hand to Warwick ;
+And , with thy hand , thy faith irrevocable ,
+That only Warwick's daughter shall be thine .
+
+Yes , I accept her , for she well deserves it ;
+And here , to pledge my vow , I give my hand .
+
+
+Why stay we now ? These soldiers shall be levied ,
+And thou , Lord Bourbon , our high admiral ,
+Shall waft them over with our royal fleet .
+I long till Edward fall by war's mischance ,
+For mocking marriage with a dame of France .
+
+
+I came from Edward as ambassador ,
+But I return his sworn and mortal foe :
+Matter of marriage was the charge he gave me ,
+But dreadful war shall answer his demand .
+Had he none else to make a stale but me ?
+Then none but I shall turn his jest to sorrow .
+I was the chief that rais'd him to the crown ,
+And I'll be chief to bring him down again :
+Not that I pity Henry's misery ,
+But seek revenge on Edward's mockery .
+
+Now tell me , brother Clarence , what think you
+Of this new marriage with the Lady Grey ?
+Hath not our brother made a worthy choice ?
+
+Alas ! you know , 'tis far from hence to France ;
+How could he stay till Warwick made return ?
+
+My lords , forbear this talk ; here comes the king .
+
+And his well-chosen bride .
+
+I mind to tell him plainly what I think .
+
+Now , brother Clarence , how like you our choice ,
+That you stand pensive , as half malcontent ?
+
+As well as Lewis of France , or the Earl of Warwick ;
+Which are so weak of courage and in judgment
+That they'll take no offence at our abuse .
+
+Suppose they take offence without a cause ,
+They are but Lewis and Warwick : I am Edward ,
+Your king and Warwick's , and must have my will .
+
+And you shall have your will , because our king :
+Yet hasty marriage seldom proveth well .
+
+Yea , brother Richard , are you offended too ?
+
+Not I :
+No , God forbid , that I should wish them sever'd
+Whom God hath join'd together ; ay , and 'twere pity
+To sunder them that yoke so well together .
+
+Setting your scorns and your mislike aside ,
+Tell me some reason why the Lady Grey
+Should not become my wife and England's queen :
+And you too , Somerset and Montague ,
+Speak freely what you think .
+
+Then this is mine opinion : that King Lewis
+Becomes your enemy for mocking him
+About the marriage of the Lady Bona .
+
+And Warwick , doing what you gave in charge ,
+Is now dishonoured by this new marriage .
+
+What if both Lewis and Warwick be appeas'd
+By such invention as I can devise ?
+
+Yet to have join'd with France in such alliance
+Would more have strengthen'd this our commonwealth
+'Gainst foreign storms , than any home-bred marriage .
+
+Why , knows not Montague , that of itself
+England is safe , if true within itself ?
+
+Yes ; but the safer when 'tis back'd with France .
+
+'Tis better using France than trusting France :
+Let us be back'd with God and with the seas
+Which he hath given for fence impregnable ,
+And with their helps only defend ourselves :
+In them and in ourselves our safety lies .
+
+For this one speech Lord Hastings well deserves
+To have the heir of the Lord Hungerford .
+
+Ay , what of that ? it was my will and grant ;
+And for this once my will shall stand for law .
+
+And yet methinks your Grace hath not done well ,
+To give the heir and daughter of Lord Scales
+Unto the brother of your loving bride :
+She better would have fitted me or Clarence :
+But in your bride you bury brotherhood .
+
+Or else you would not have bestow'd the heir
+Of the Lord Bonville on your new wife's son ,
+And leave your brothers to go speed elsewhere .
+
+Alas , poor Clarence , is it for a wife
+That thou art malcontent ? I will provide thee .
+
+In choosing for yourself you show'd your judgment ,
+Which being shallow , you shall give me leave
+To play the broker on mine own behalf ;
+And to that end I shortly mind to leave you .
+
+Leave me , or tarry , Edward will be king ,
+And not be tied unto his brother's will .
+
+My lords , before it pleas'd his majesty
+To raise my state to title of a queen ,
+Do me but right , and you must all-confess
+That I was not ignoble of descent ;
+And meaner than myself have had like fortune .
+But as this title honours me and mine ,
+So your dislikes , to whom I would be pleasing ,
+Do cloud my joys with danger and with sorrow .
+
+My love , forbear to fawn upon their frowns :
+What danger or what sorrow can befall thee ,
+So long as Edward is thy constant friend ,
+And their true sovereign , whom they must obey ?
+Nay , whom they shall obey , and love thee too ,
+Unless they seek for hatred at my hands ;
+Which if they do , yet will I keep thee safe ,
+And they shall feel the vengeance of my wrath .
+
+I hear , yet say not much , but think the more .
+
+
+Now , messenger , what letters or what news
+From France ?
+
+My sovereign liege , no letters ; and few words ;
+But such as I , without your special pardon ,
+Dare not relate .
+
+Go to , we pardon thee : therefore , in brief ,
+Tell me their words as near as thou canst guess them .
+What answer makes King Lewis unto our letters ?
+
+At my depart these were his very words :
+'Go tell false Edward , thy supposed king ,
+That Lewis of France is sending over masquers ,
+To revel it with him and his new bride .'
+
+Is Lewis so brave ? belike he thinks me Henry .
+But what said Lady Bona to my marriage ?
+
+These were her words , utter'd with mild disdain :
+'Tell him , in hope he'll prove a widower shortly ,
+I'll wear the willow garland for his sake .'
+
+I blame not her , she could say little less ;
+She had the wrong . But what said Henry's queen ?
+For I have heard that she was there in place .
+
+'Tell him ,' quoth she , 'my mourning weeds are done ,
+And I am ready to put armour on .'
+
+Belike she minds to play the Amazon .
+But what said Warwick to these injuries ?
+
+He , more incens'd against your majesty
+Than all the rest , discharg'd me with these words :
+'Tell him from me that he hath done me wrong ,
+And therefore I'll uncrown him ere't be long .'
+
+Ha ! durst the traitor breathe out so proud words ?
+Well , I will arm me , being thus forewarn'd :
+They shall have wars , and pay for their presumption .
+But say , is Warwick friends with Margaret ?
+
+Ay , gracious sovereign ; they are so link'd in friendship ,
+That young Prince Edward marries Warwick's daughter .
+
+Belike the elder ; Clarence will have the younger .
+Now , brother king , farewell , and sit you fast ,
+For I will hence to Warwick's other daughter ;
+That , though I want a kingdom , yet in marriage
+I may not prove inferior to yourself .
+You , that love me and Warwick , follow me .
+
+
+Not I .
+My thoughts aim at a further matter ; I
+Stay not for love of Edward , but the crown .
+
+Clarence and Somerset both gone to Warwick !
+Yet am I arm'd against the worst can happen ,
+And haste is needful in this desperate case .
+Pembroke and Stafford , you in our behalf
+Go levy men , and make prepare for war :
+They are already , or quickly will be landed :
+Myself in person will straight follow you ,
+
+But ere I go , Hastings and Montague ,
+Resolve my doubt . You twain , of all the rest ,
+Are near to Warwick by blood , and by alliance :
+Tell me if you love Warwick more than me ?
+If it be so , then both depart to him ;
+I rather wish you foes than hollow friends :
+But if you mind to hold your true obedience ,
+Give me assurance with some friendly vow
+That I may never have you in suspect .
+
+So God help Montague as he proves true !
+
+And Hastings as he favours Edward's cause !
+
+Now , brother Richard , will you stand by us ?
+
+Ay , in despite of all that shall withstand you .
+
+Why , so ! then am I sure of victory .
+Now therefore let us hence ; and lose no hour
+Till we meet Warwick with his foreign power .
+
+
+Trust me , my lord , all hitherto goes well ;
+The common people by numbers swarm to us .
+
+
+But see where Somerset and Clarence come !
+
+Speak suddenly , my lords , are we all friends ?
+
+Fear not that , my lord .
+
+Then , gentle Clarence , welcome unto Warwick ;
+And welcome , Somerset : I hold it cowardice ,
+To rest mistrustful where a noble heart
+Hath pawn'd an open hand in sign of love ;
+Else might I think that Clarence , Edward's brother ,
+Were but a feigned friend to our proceedings :
+But welcome , sweet Clarence ; my daughter shall be thine .
+And now what rests , but in night's coverture ,
+Thy brother being carelessly encamp'd ,
+His soldiers lurking in the towns about ,
+And but attended by a simple guard ,
+We may surprise and take him at our pleasure ?
+Our scouts have found the adventure very easy .
+That as Ulysses , and stout Diomede ,
+With sleight and manhood stole to Rhesus' tents ,
+And brought from thence the Thracian fatal steeds ;
+So we , well cover'd with the night's black mantle ,
+At unawares may beat down Edward's guard ,
+And seize himself ; I say not , slaughter him ,
+For I intend but only to surprise him .
+You , that will follow me to this attempt ,
+Applaud the name of Henry with your leader .
+
+Why , then , let's on our way in silent sort .
+For Warwick and his friends , God and Saint George !
+
+
+Come on , my masters , each man take his stand ;
+The king , by this , is set him down to sleep .
+
+What , will he not to bed ?
+
+Why , no : for he hath made a solemn vow
+Never to lie and take his natural rest
+Till Warwick or himself be quite suppress'd .
+
+To-morrow then belike shall be the day ,
+If Warwick be so near as men report .
+
+But say , I pray , what nobleman is that
+That with the king here resteth in his tent ?
+
+'Tis the Lord Hastings , the king's chiefest friend .
+
+O ! is it so ? But why commands the king
+That his chief followers lodge in towns about him ,
+While he himself keeps in the cold field ?
+
+'Tis the more honour , because the more dangerous .
+
+Ay , but give me worship and quietness ;
+I like it better than a dangerous honour .
+If Warwick knew in what estate he stands ,
+'Tis to be doubted he would waken him .
+
+Unless our halberds did shut up his passage .
+
+Ay ; wherefore else guard we his royal tent ,
+But to defend his person from night-foes ?
+
+
+This is his tent ; and see where stand his guard .
+Courage , my masters ! honour now or never !
+But follow me , and Edward shall be ours .
+
+Who goes there ?
+
+Stay , or thou diest .
+
+
+What are they that fly there ?
+
+Richard and Hastings : let them go ; here's the duke .
+
+The duke ! Why , Warwick , when we parted last ,
+Thou call'dst me king !
+
+Ay , but the case is alter'd :
+When you disgrac'd me in my embassade ,
+Then I degraded you from being king ,
+And come now to create you Duke of York .
+Alas ! how should you govern any kingdom ,
+That know not how to use ambassadors ,
+Nor how to be contented with one wife ,
+Nor how to use your brothers brotherly ,
+Nor how to study for the people's welfare ,
+Nor how to shroud yourself from enemies ?
+
+Yea , brother of Clarence , art thou here too ?
+Nay , then , I see that Edward needs must down .
+Yet , Warwick , in despite of all mischance ,
+Of thee thyself , and all thy complices ,
+Edward will always bear himself as king :
+Though Fortune's malice overthrow my state ,
+My mind exceeds the compass of her wheel .
+
+Then , for his mind , be Edward England's king :
+
+But Henry now shall wear the English crown ,
+And be true king indeed , thou but the shadow .
+My Lord of Somerset , at my request ,
+See that forthwith Duke Edward be convey'd
+Unto my brother , Archbishop of York .
+When I have fought with Pembroke and his fellows ,
+I'll follow you , and tell what answer
+Lewis and the Lady Bona send to him :
+Now , for a while farewell , good Duke of York .
+
+What fates impose , that men must needs abide ;
+It boots not to resist both wind and tide .
+
+
+What now remains , my lords , for us to do ,
+But march to London with our soldiers ?
+
+Ay , that's the first thing that we have to do ;
+To free King Henry from imprisonment ,
+And see him seated in the regal throne .
+
+
+Madam , what makes you in this sudden change ?
+
+Why , brother Rivers , are you yet to learn ,
+What late misfortune is befall'n King Edward ?
+
+What ! loss of some pitch'd battle against Warwick ?
+
+No , but the loss of his own royal person .
+
+Then is my sovereign slain ?
+
+Ay , almost slain , for he is taken prisoner ;
+Either betray'd by falsehood of his guard
+Or by his foe surpris'd at unawares :
+And , as I further have to understand ,
+Is new committed to the Bishop of York ,
+Fell Warwick's brother , and by that our foe .
+
+These news , I must confess , are full of grief ;
+Yet , gracious madam , bear it as you may :
+Warwick may lose , that now hath won the day .
+
+Till then fair hope must hinder life's decay .
+And I the rather wean me from despair
+For love of Edward's offspring in my womb :
+This is it that makes me bridle passion ,
+And bear with mildness my misfortune's cross ;
+Ay , ay , for this I draw in many a tear ,
+And stop the rising of blood-sucking sighs ,
+Lest with my sighs or tears I blast or drown
+King Edward's fruit , true heir to the English crown .
+
+But , madam , where is Warwick then become ?
+
+I am inform'd that he comes towards London ,
+To set the crown once more on Henry's head :
+Guess thou the rest ; King Edward's friends must down .
+But , to prevent the tyrant's violence ,
+For trust not him that hath once broken faith ,
+I'll hence forthwith unto the sanctuary ,
+To save at least the heir of Edward's right :
+There shall I rest secure from force and fraud .
+Come , therefore ; let us fly while we may fly :
+If Warwick take us we are sure to die .
+
+
+Now , my Lord Hastings and Sir William Stanley ,
+Leave off to wonder why I drew you hither ,
+Into this chiefest thicket of the park .
+Thus stands the case . You know , our king , my brother ,
+Is prisoner to the bishop here , at whose hands
+He hath good usage and great liberty ,
+And often but attended with weak guard ,
+Comes hunting this way to disport himself .
+I have advertis'd him by secret means ,
+That if about this hour he make this way ,
+Under the colour of his usual game ,
+He shall here find his friends , with horse and men
+To set him free from his captivity .
+
+
+This way , my lord , for this way lies the game .
+
+Nay , this way , man : see where the huntsmen stand .
+Now , brother of Gloucester , Lord Hastings , and the rest ,
+Stand you thus close , to steal the bishop's deer ?
+
+Brother , the time and case requireth haste .
+Your horse stands ready at the park corner .
+
+But whither shall we then ?
+
+To Lynn , my lord ; and ship from thence to Flanders .
+
+Well guess'd , believe me ; for that was my meaning .
+
+Stanley , I will requite thy forwardness .
+
+But wherefore stay we ? 'tis no time to talk .
+
+Huntsman , what sayst thou ? wilt thou go along ?
+
+Better do so than tarry and be hang'd .
+
+Come then , away ; let's ha' no more ado .
+
+Bishop , farewell : shield thee from Warwick's frown ,
+And pray that I may repossess the crown .
+
+Master lieutenant , now that God and friends
+Have shaken Edward from the regal seat ,
+And turn'd my captive state to liberty ,
+My fear to hope , my sorrows unto joys ,
+At our enlargement what are thy due fees ?
+
+Subjects may challenge nothing of their sovereigns ;
+But if a humble prayer may prevail ,
+I then crave pardon of your majesty .
+
+For what , lieutenant ? for well using me ?
+Nay , be thou sure , I'll well requite thy kindness ,
+For that it made my imprisonment a pleasure ;
+Ay , such a pleasure as encaged birds
+Conceive , when , after many moody thoughts
+At last by notes of household harmony
+They quite forget their loss of liberty .
+But , Warwick , after God , thou set'st me free ,
+And chiefly therefore I thank God and thee ;
+He was the author , thou the instrument .
+Therefore , that I may conquer Fortune's spite
+By living low , where Fortune cannot hurt me ,
+And that the people of this blessed land
+May not be punish'd with my thwarting stars ,
+Warwick , although my head still wear the crown ,
+I here resign my government to thee ,
+For thou art fortunate in all thy deeds .
+
+Your Grace hath still been fam'd for virtuous ;
+And now may seem as wise as virtuous ,
+By spying and avoiding Fortune's malice ;
+For few men rightly temper with the stars :
+Yet in this one thing let me blame your Grace ,
+For choosing me when Clarence is in place .
+
+No , Warwick , thou art worthy of the sway ,
+To whom the heavens , in thy nativity
+Adjudg'd an olive branch and laurel crown ,
+As likely to be blest in peace , and war ;
+And therefore I yield thee my free consent .
+
+And I choose Clarence only for protector .
+
+Warwick and Clarence , give me both your hands :
+Now join your hands , and with your hands your hearts ,
+That no dissension hinder government :
+I make you both protectors of this land ,
+While I myself will lead a private life ,
+And in devotion spend my latter days ,
+To sin's rebuke and my Creator's praise .
+
+What answers Clarence to his sovereign's will ?
+
+That he consents , if Warwick yield consent ;
+For on thy fortune I repose myself .
+
+Why then , though loath , yet must I be content :
+We'll yoke together , like a double shadow
+To Henry's body , and supply his place ;
+I mean , in bearing weight of government ,
+While he enjoys the honour and his ease .
+And , Clarence , now then it is more than needful
+Forthwith that Edward be pronounc'd a traitor ,
+And all his lands and goods be confiscate .
+
+What else ? and that succession be determin'd .
+
+Ay , therein Clarence shall not want his part .
+
+But , with the first of all your chief affairs ,
+Let me entreat , for I command no more ,
+That Margaret your queen , and my son Edward ,
+Be sent for , to return from France with speed :
+For , till I see them here , by doubtful fear
+My joy of liberty is half eclips'd .
+
+It shall be done , my sov'reign , with all speed .
+
+My Lord of Somerset , what youth is that
+Of whom you seem to have so tender care ?
+
+My liege , it is young Henry , Earl of Richmond .
+
+Come hither , England's hope :
+
+If secret powers
+Suggest but truth to my divining thoughts ,
+This pretty lad will prove our country's bliss .
+His looks are full of peaceful majesty ,
+His head by nature fram'd to wear a crown ,
+His hand to wield a sceptre , and himself
+Likely in time to bless a regal throne .
+Make much of him , my lords ; for this is he
+Must help you more than you are hurt by me .
+
+
+What news , my friend ?
+
+That Edward is escaped from your brother ,
+And fled , as he hears since , to Burgundy .
+
+Unsavoury news ! but how made he escape ?
+
+He was convey'd by Richard Duke of Gloucester ,
+And the Lord Hastings , who attended him
+In secret ambush on the forest side ,
+And from the bishop's huntsmen rescu'd him :
+For hunting was his daily exercise .
+
+My brother was too careless of his charge .
+But let us hence , my sovereign , to provide
+A salve for any sore that may betide .
+
+
+My lord , I like not of this flight of Edward's ;
+For doubtless Burgundy will yield him help ,
+And we shall have more wars before't be long .
+As Henry's late presaging prophecy
+Did glad my heart with hope of this young Richmond ,
+So doth my heart misgive me , in these conflicts
+What may befall him to his harm and ours :
+Therefore , Lord Oxford , to prevent the worst ,
+Forthwith we'll send him hence to Brittany ,
+Till storms be past of civil enmity .
+
+Ay , for if Edward repossess the crown ,
+'Tis like that Richmond with the rest shall down .
+
+It shall be so ; he shall to Brittany .
+Come , therefore , let's about it speedily .
+
+
+Now , brother Richard , Lord Hastings , and the rest ,
+Yet thus far Fortune maketh us amends ,
+And says , that once more I shall interchange
+My waned state for Henry's regal crown .
+Well have we pass'd , and now repass'd the seas ,
+And brought desired help from Burgundy :
+What then remains , we being thus arriv'd
+From Ravenspurgh haven before the gates of York ,
+But that we enter , as into our dukedom ?
+
+The gates made fast ! Brother , I like not this ;
+For many men that stumble at the threshold
+Are well foretold that danger lurks within .
+
+Tush , man ! abodements must not now affright us .
+By fair or foul means we must enter in ,
+For hither will our friends repair to us .
+
+My liege , I'll knock once more to summon them .
+
+
+My lords , we were forewarned of your coming ,
+And shut the gates for safety of ourselves ;
+For now we owe allegiance unto Henry .
+
+But , Master Mayor , if Henry be your king ,
+Yet Edward , at the least , is Duke of York .
+
+True , my good lord , I know you for no less .
+
+Why , and I challenge nothing but my dukedom ,
+As being well content with that alone .
+
+But when the fox hath once got in his nose ,
+He'll soon find means to make the body follow .
+
+Why , Master Mayor , why stand you in a doubt ?
+Open the gates ; we are King Henry's friends .
+
+Ay , say you so ? the gates shall then be open'd .
+
+
+A wise stout captain , and soon persuaded .
+
+The good old man would fain that all were well ,
+So 'twere not 'long of him ; but being enter'd ,
+I doubt not , I , but we shall soon persuade
+Both him and all his brothers unto reason .
+
+
+So , Master Mayor : these gates must not be shut
+But in the night , or in the time of war .
+What ! fear not , man , but yield me up the keys ;
+
+For Edward will defend the town and thee ,
+And all those friends that deign to follow me .
+
+
+Brother , this is Sir John Montgomery ,
+Our trusty friend , unless I be deceiv'd .
+
+Welcome , Sir John ! but why come you in arms ?
+
+To help King Edward in his time of storm ,
+As every loyal subject ought to do .
+
+Thanks , good Montgomery ; but we now forget
+Our title to the crown , and only claim
+Our dukedom till God please to send the rest .
+
+Then fare you well , for I will hence again :
+I came to serve a king and not a duke .
+Drummer , strike up , and let us march away .
+
+
+Nay , stay , Sir John , awhile ; and we'll debate
+By what safe means the crown may be recover'd .
+
+What talk you of debating ? in few words ,
+If you'll not here proclaim yourself our king .
+I'll leave you to your fortune , and be gone
+To keep them back that come to succour you .
+Why shall we fight , if you pretend no title ?
+
+Why , brother , wherefore stand you on nice points ?
+
+When we grow stronger then we'll make our claim ;
+Till then , 'tis wisdom to conceal our meaning .
+
+Away with scrupulous wit ! now arms must rule .
+
+And fearless minds climb soonest unto crowns .
+Brother , we will proclaim you out of hand ;
+The bruit thereof will bring you many friends .
+
+Then be it as you will ; for 'tis my right ,
+And Henry but usurps the diadem .
+
+Ay , now my sov'reign speaketh like himself ;
+And now will I be Edward's champion .
+
+Sound , trumpet ! Edward shall be here proclaim'd ;
+Come , fellow soldier , make thou proclamation .
+
+
+Edward the Fourth , by the grace of God , King of England and France , and Lord of Ireland , &c .
+
+And whosoe'er gainsays King Edward's right ,
+By this I challenge him to single fight .
+
+
+Long live Edward the Fourth !
+
+Thanks , brave Montgomery ;and thanks unto you all :
+If Fortune serve me , I'll requite this kindness .
+Now , for this night , let's harbour here in York ;
+And when the morning sun shall raise his car
+Above the border of this horizon ,
+We'll forward towards Warwick , and his mates ;
+For well I wot that Henry is no soldier .
+Ah , froward Clarence , how evil it beseems thee
+To flatter Henry , and forsake thy brother !
+Yet , as we may , we'll meet both thee and Warwick .
+Come on , brave soldiers : doubt not of the day ;
+And , that once gotten , doubt not of large pay .
+
+
+What counsel , lords ? Edward from Belgia ,
+With hasty Germans and blunt Hollanders ,
+Hath pass'd in safety through the narrow seas ,
+And with his troops doth march amain to London ;
+And many giddy people flock to him .
+
+Let's levy men , and beat him back again .
+
+A little fire is quickly trodden out ,
+Which , being suffer'd , rivers cannot quench .
+
+In Warwickshire I have true-hearted friends ,
+Not mutinous in peace , yet bold in war ;
+Those will I muster up : and thou , son Clarence ,
+Shalt stir up in Suffolk , Norfolk , and in Kent ,
+The knights and gentlemen to come with thee :
+Thou , brother Montague , in Buckingham ,
+Northampton , and in Leicestershire , shalt find
+Men well inclin'd to hear what thou command'st :
+And thou , brave Oxford , wondrous well belov'd
+In Oxfordshire , shalt muster up thy friends .
+My sov'reign , with the loving citizens ,
+Like to his island girt in with the ocean ,
+Or modest Dian circled with her nymphs ,
+Shall rest in London till we come to him .
+Fair lords , take leave , and stand not to reply .
+Farewell , my sovereign .
+
+Farewell , my Hector , and my Troy's true hope .
+
+In sign of truth , I kiss your highness' hand .
+
+Well-minded Clarence , be thou fortunate !
+
+Comfort , my lord ; and so , I take my leave .
+
+And thus I seal my truth , and bid adieu .
+
+Sweet Oxford , and my loving Montague ,
+And all at once , once more a happy farewell .
+
+Farewell , sweet lords : let's meet at Coventry .
+
+
+Here at the palace will I rest awhile .
+Cousin of Exeter , what thinks your lordship ?
+Methinks the power that Edward hath in field
+Should not be able to encounter mine .
+
+The doubt is that he will seduce the rest .
+
+That's not my fear ; my meed hath got me fame :
+I have not stopp'd mine ears to their demands ,
+Nor posted off their suits with slow delays ;
+My pity hath been balm to heal their wounds ,
+My mildness hath allay'd their swelling griefs ,
+My mercy dried their water-flowing tears ;
+I have not been desirous of their wealth ;
+Nor much oppress'd them with great subsidies ,
+Nor forward of revenge , though they much err'd .
+Then why should they love Edward more than me ?
+No , Exeter , these graces challenge grace :
+And , when the lion fawns upon the lamb ,
+The lamb will never cease to follow him .
+
+
+Hark , hark , my lord ! what shouts are these ?
+
+
+Seize on the shame-fac'd Henry ! bear him hence :
+And once again proclaim us King of England .
+You are the fount that makes small brooks to flow :
+Now stops thy spring ; my sea shall suck them dry ,
+And swell so much the higher by their ebb .
+Hence with him to the Tower ! let him not speak .
+
+And , lords , towards Coventry bend we our course ,
+Where peremptory Warwick now remains :
+The sun shines hot ; and , if we use delay ,
+Cold biting winter mars our hop'd-for hay .
+
+Away betimes , before his forces join ,
+And take the great-grown traitor unawares :
+Brave warriors , march amain towards Coventry .
+
+Where is the post that came from valiant Oxford ?
+How far hence is thy lord , mine honest fellow ?
+
+By this at Dunsmore , marching hitherward .
+
+How far off is our brother Montague ?
+Where is the post that came from Montague ?
+
+By this at Daintry , with a puissant troop .
+
+
+Say , Somerville , what says my loving son ?
+And , by thy guess , how nigh is Clarence now ?
+
+At Southam I did leave him with his forces ,
+And do expect him here some two hours hence .
+
+
+Then Clarence is at hand , I hear his drum .
+
+It is not his , my lord ; here Southam lies :
+The drum your honour hears marcheth from Warwick .
+
+Who should that be ? belike , unlook'd for friends .
+
+They are at hand , and you shall quickly know .
+
+
+Go , trumpet , to the walls , and sound a parle .
+
+See how the surly Warwick mans the wall .
+
+O , unbid spite ! is sportful Edward come ?
+Where slept our scouts , or how are they seduc'd ,
+That we could hear no news of his repair ?
+
+Now , Warwick , wilt thou ope the city gates ,
+Speak gentle words , and humbly bend thy knee ?
+Call Edward king , and at his hands beg mercy ?
+And he shall pardon thee these outrages .
+
+Nay , rather , wilt thou draw thy forces hence ,
+Confess who set thee up and pluck'd thee down ?
+Call Warwick patron , and be penitent ;
+And thou shalt still remain the Duke of York .
+
+I thought , at least , he would have said the king ;
+Or did he make the jest against his will ?
+
+Is not a dukedom , sir , a goodly gift ?
+
+Ay , by my faith , for a poor earl to give :
+I'll do thee service for so good a gift .
+
+'Twas I that gave the kingdom to thy brother .
+
+Why then 'tis mine , if but by Warwick's gift .
+
+Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight :
+And , weakling , Warwick takes his gift again ;
+And Henry is my king , Warwick his subject .
+
+But Warwick's king is Edward's prisoner ;
+And , gallant Warwick , do but answer this ,
+What is the body , when the head is off ?
+
+Alas ! that Warwick had no more forecast ,
+But , whiles he thought to steal the single ten ,
+The king was slily finger'd from the deck .
+You left poor Henry at the bishop's palace ,
+And , ten to one , you'll meet him in the Tower .
+
+'Tis even so : yet you are Warwick still .
+
+Come , Warwick , take the time ; kneel down , kneel down :
+Nay , when ? strike now , or else the iron cools .
+
+I had rather chop this hand off at a blow ,
+And with the other fling it at thy face ,
+Than bear so low a sail to strike to thee .
+
+Sail how thou canst , have wind and tide thy friend ;
+This hand , fast wound about thy coal-black hair ,
+Shall , whiles thy head is warm and new cut off ,
+Write in the dust this sentence with thy blood :
+'Wind-changing Warwick now can change no more .'
+
+
+O cheerful colours ! see where Oxford comes !
+
+Oxford , Oxford , for Lancaster !
+
+
+The gates are open , let us enter too .
+
+So other foes may set upon our backs .
+Stand we in good array ; for they no doubt
+Will issue out again and bid us battle :
+If not , the city being but of small defence ,
+We'll quickly rouse the traitors in the same .
+
+O ! welcome , Oxford ! for we want thy help .
+
+
+Montague , Montague , for Lancaster !
+
+
+Thou and thy brother both shall buy this treason
+Even with the dearest blood your bodies bear .
+
+The harder match'd , the greater victory :
+My mind presageth happy gain , and conquest .
+
+
+Somerset , Somerset , for Lancaster !
+
+
+Two of thy name , both Dukes of Somerset ,
+Have sold their lives unto the house of York ;
+And thou shalt be the third , if this sword hold .
+
+
+And lo ! where George of Clarence sweeps along ,
+Of force enough to bid his brother battle ;
+With whom an upright zeal to right prevails
+More than the nature of a brother's love .
+Come , Clarence , come ; thou wilt , if Warwick call .
+
+Father of Warwick , know you what this means ?
+
+Look here , I throw my infamy at thee :
+I will not ruinate my father's house ,
+Who gave his blood to lime the stones together ,
+And set up Lancaster . Why , trow'st thou , Warwick ,
+That Clarence is so harsh , so blunt , unnatural ,
+To bend the fatal instruments of war
+Against his brother and his lawful king ?
+Perhaps thou wilt object my holy oath :
+To keep that oath were more impiety
+Than Jephthah's , when he sacrific'd his daughter .
+I am so sorry for my trespass made
+That , to deserve well at my brother's hands ,
+I here proclaim myself thy mortal foe ;
+With resolution , wheresoe'er I meet thee
+As I will meet thee if thou stir abroad
+To plague thee for thy foul misleading me .
+And so , proud-hearted Warwick , I defy thee ,
+And to my brother turn my blushing cheeks .
+Pardon me , Edward , I will make amends ;
+And , Richard , do not frown upon my faults ,
+For I will henceforth be no more unconstant .
+
+Now welcome more , and ten times more belov'd ,
+Than if thou never hadst deserv'd our hate .
+
+Welcome , good Clarence ; this is brother-like .
+
+O passing traitor , perjur'd , and unjust !
+
+What , Warwick , wilt thou leave the town , and fight ?
+Or shall we beat the stones about thine ears ?
+
+Alas ! I am not coop'd here for defence :
+I will away towards Barnet presently ,
+And bid thee battle , Edward , if thou dar'st .
+
+Yes , Warwick , Edward dares , and leads the way .
+Lords , to the field ; Saint George and victory !
+
+
+So , lie thou there : die thou , and die our fear ;
+For Warwick was a bug that fear'd us all .
+Now Montague , sit fast ; I seek for thee ,
+That Warwick's bones may keep thine company .
+
+
+Ah ! who is nigh ? come to me , friend or foe ,
+And tell me who is victor , York or Warwick ?
+Why ask I that ? my mangled body shows ,
+My blood , my want of strength , my sick heart shows ,
+That I must yield my body to the earth ,
+And , by my fall , the conquest to my foe .
+Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge ,
+Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle ,
+Under whose shade the ramping lion slept ,
+Whose top branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree ,
+And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful wind .
+These eyes , that now are dimm'd with death's black veil ,
+Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun ,
+To search the secret treasons of the world :
+The wrinkles in my brows , now fill'd with blood ,
+Were liken'd oft to kingly sepulchres ;
+For who liv'd king , but I could dig his grave ?
+And who durst smile when Warwick bent his brow ?
+Lo ! now my glory smear'd in dust and blood ;
+My parks , my walks , my manors that I had ,
+Even now forsake me ; and , of all my lands
+Is nothing left me but my body's length .
+Why , what is pomp , rule , reign , but earth and dust ?
+And , live we how we can , yet die we must .
+
+
+Ah ! Warwick , Warwick , wert thou as we are ,
+We might recover all our loss again .
+The queen from France hath brought a puissant power ;
+Even now we heard the news . Ah ! couldst thou fly .
+
+Why , then , I would not fly . Ah ! Montague ,
+If thou be there , sweet brother , take my hand ,
+And with thy lips keep in my soul awhile .
+Thou lov'st me not ; for , brother , if thou didst ,
+Thy tears would wash this cold congealed blood
+That glues my lips and will not let me speak .
+Come quickly , Montague , or I am dead .
+
+Ah ! Warwick , Montague hath breath'd his last ;
+And to the latest gasp , cried out for Warwick ,
+And said , 'Commend me to my valiant brother .'
+And more he would have said ; and more he spoke ,
+Which sounded like a clamour in a vault ,
+That mought not be distinguish'd : but at last
+I well might hear , deliver'd with a groan ,
+'O ! farewell , Warwick !'
+
+Sweet rest his soul ! Fly , lords , and save yourselves ;
+For Warwick bids you all farewell , to meet in heaven .
+
+
+Away , away , to meet the queen's great power .
+
+
+Thus far our fortune keeps an upward course ,
+And we are grac'd with wreaths of victory .
+But in the midst of this bright-shining day ,
+I spy a black , suspicious , threat'ning cloud ,
+That will encounter with our glorious sun ,
+Ere he attain his easeful western bed :
+I mean , my lords , those powers that the queen
+Hath rais'd in Gallia , have arriv'd our coast ,
+And , as we hear , march on to fight with us .
+
+A little gale will soon disperse that cloud ,
+And blow it to the source from whence it came :
+Thy very beams will dry those vapours up ,
+For every cloud engenders not a storm .
+
+The queen is valu'd thirty thousand strong ,
+And Somerset , with Oxford , fled to her :
+If she have time to breathe , be well assur'd
+Her faction will be full as strong as ours .
+
+We are advertis'd by our loving friends
+That they do hold their course toward Tewksbury .
+We , having now the best at Barnet field ,
+Will thither straight , for willingness rids way ;
+And , as we march , our strength will be augmented
+In every county as we go along .
+Strike up the drum ! cry 'Courage !' and away .
+
+
+Great lords , wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss ,
+But cheerly seek how to redress their harms .
+What though the mast be now blown over-board ,
+The cable broke , the holding anchor lost ,
+And half our sailors swallow'd in the flood ?
+Yet lives our pilot still : is't meet that he
+Should leave the helm and like a fearful lad
+With tearful eyes add water to the sea ,
+And give more strength to that which hath too much ;
+Whiles in his moan the ship splits on the rock ,
+Which industry and courage might have sav'd ?
+Ah ! what a shame ! ah , what a fault were this .
+Say , Warwick was our anchor ; what of that ?
+And Montague our top-mast ; what of him ?
+Our slaughter'd friends the tackles ; what of these ?
+Why , is not Oxford here another anchor ?
+And Somerset , another goodly mast ?
+The friends of France our shrouds and tacklings ?
+And , though unskilful , why not Ned and I
+For once allow'd the skilful pilot's charge ?
+We will not from the helm , to sit and weep ,
+But keep our course , though the rough wind say no ,
+From shelves and rocks that threaten us with wrack .
+As good to chide the waves as speak them fair .
+And what is Edward but a ruthless sea ?
+What Clarence but a quicksand of deceit ?
+And Richard but a ragged fatal rock ?
+All those the enemies to our poor bark .
+Say you can swim ; alas ! 'tis but a while :
+Tread on the sand ; why , there you quickly sink :
+Bestride the rock ; the tide will wash you off ,
+Or else you famish ; that's a threefold death .
+This speak I , lords , to let you understand ,
+In case some one of you would fly from us ,
+That there's no hop'd-for mercy with the brothers
+More than with ruthless waves , with sands and rocks .
+Why , courage , then ! what cannot be avoided
+'Twere childish weakness to lament or fear .
+
+Methinks a woman of this valiant spirit
+Should , if a coward heard her speak these words ,
+Infuse his breast with magnanimity ,
+And make him , naked , foil a man at arms .
+I speak not this , as doubting any here ;
+For did I but suspect a fearful man ,
+He should have leave to go away betimes ,
+Lest in our need he might infect another ,
+And make him of like spirit to himself .
+If any such be here , as God forbid !
+Let him depart before we need his help .
+
+Women and children of so high a courage ,
+And warriors faint ! why , 'twere perpetual shame .
+O brave young prince ! thy famous grandfather
+Doth live again in thee : long mayst thou live
+To bear his image and renew his glories !
+
+And he , that will not fight for such a hope ,
+Go home to bed , and , like the owl by day ,
+If he arise , be mock'd and wonder'd at .
+
+Thanks , gentle Somerset : sweet Oxford , thanks .
+
+And take his thanks that yet hath nothing else .
+
+
+Prepare you , lords , for Edward is at hand ,
+Ready to fight ; therefore be resolute .
+
+I thought no less : it is his policy
+To haste thus fast , to find us unprovided .
+
+But he's deceiv'd ; we are in readiness .
+
+This cheers my heart to see your forwardness .
+
+Here pitch our battle ; hence we will not budge .
+
+
+Brave followers , yonder stands the thorny wood ,
+Which , by the heavens' assistance , and your strength ,
+Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere night .
+I need not add more fuel to your fire ,
+For well I wot ye blaze to burn them out :
+Give signal to the fight , and to it , lords .
+
+Lords , knights , and gentlemen , what I should say
+My tears gainsay ; for every word I speak ,
+Ye see , I drink the water of mine eyes .
+Therefore , no more but this : Henry , your sovereign ,
+Is prisoner to the foe ; his state usurp'd ,
+His realm a slaughter house , his subjects slain ,
+His statutes cancell'd , and his treasure spent ;
+And yonder is the wolf that makes this spoil .
+You fight in justice : then , in God's name , lords ,
+Be valiant , and give signal to the fight .
+
+
+Now , here a period of tumultuous broils .
+Away with Oxford to Hames Castle straight :
+For Somerset , off with his guilty head .
+Go , bear them hence ; I will not hear them speak .
+
+For my part , I'll not trouble thee with words .
+
+Nor I , but stoop with patience to my fortune .
+
+
+So part we sadly in this troublous world ,
+To meet with joy in sweet Jerusalem .
+
+Is proclamation made , that who finds Edward
+Shall have a high reward , and he his life ?
+
+It is : and lo , where youthful Edward comes .
+
+
+Bring forth the gallant : let us hear him speak .
+What ! can so young a thorn begin to prick ?
+Edward , what satisfaction canst thou make ,
+For bearing arms , for stirring up my subjects ,
+And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to ?
+
+Speak like a subject , proud ambitious York !
+Suppose that I am now my father's mouth :
+Resign thy chair , and where I stand kneel thou ,
+Whilst I propose the self-same words to thee ,
+Which , traitor , thou wouldst have me answer to .
+
+Ah ! that thy father had been so resolv'd .
+
+That you might still have worn the petticoat ,
+And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster .
+
+Let sop fable in a winter's night ;
+His currish riddles sort not with this place .
+
+By heaven , brat , I'll plague you for that word .
+
+Ay , thou wast born to be a plague to men .
+
+For God's sake , take away this captive scold .
+
+Nay , take away this scolding crookback rather .
+
+Peace , wilful boy , or I will charm your tongue .
+
+Untutor'd lad , thou art too malapert .
+
+I know my duty ; you are all undutiful :
+Lascivious Edward , and thou perjur'd George ,
+And thou mis-shapen Dick , I tell ye all ,
+I am your better , traitors as ye are ;
+And thou usurp'st my father's right and mine .
+
+Take that , the likeness of this railer here .
+
+
+Sprawl'st thou ? take that , to end thy agony .
+
+
+And there's for twitting me with perjury .
+
+
+O , kill me too !
+
+Marry , and shall .
+
+
+Hold , Richard , hold ! for we have done too much .
+
+Why should she live , to fill the world with words ?
+
+What ! doth she swoon ? use means for her recovery .
+
+Clarence , excuse me to the king , my brother ;
+I'll hence to London on a serious matter :
+Ere ye come there , be sure to hear some news .
+
+What ? what ?
+
+The Tower ! the Tower !
+
+
+O Ned , sweet Ned ! speak to thy mother , boy !
+Canst thou not speak ? O traitors ! murderers !
+They that stabb'd C sar shed no blood at all ,
+Did not offend , nor were not worthy blame ,
+If this foul deed were by , to equal it :
+He was a man ; this , in respect , a child ;
+And men ne'er spend their fury on a child .
+What's worse than murderer , that I may name it ?
+No , no , my heart will burst , an if I speak :
+And I will speak , that so my heart may burst .
+Butchers and villains ! bloody cannibals !
+How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd !
+You have no children , butchers ! if you had ,
+The thought of them would have stirr'd up remorse :
+But if you ever chance to have a child ,
+Look in his youth to have him so cut off
+As , deathsmen , you have rid this sweet young prince !
+
+Away with her ! go , bear her hence perforce .
+
+Nay , never bear me hence , dispatch me here :
+Here sheathe thy sword , I'll pardon thee my death .
+What ! wilt thou not ? then , Clarence , do it thou .
+
+By heaven , I will not do thee so much ease .
+
+Good Clarence , do ; sweet Clarence , do thou do it .
+
+Didst thou not hear me swear I would not do it ?
+
+Ay , but thou usest to forswear thyself :
+'Twas sin before , but now 'tis charity .
+What ! wilt thou not ? Where is that devil's butcher ,
+Hard-favour'd Richard ? Richard , where art thou ?
+Thou art not here : murder is thy alms-deed ;
+Petitioners for blood thou ne'er put'st back .
+
+Away , I say ! I charge ye , bear her hence .
+
+So come to you and yours , as to this prince !
+
+
+Where's Richard gone ?
+
+To London , all in post ; and , as I guess ,
+To make a bloody supper in the Tower .
+
+He's sudden if a thing comes in his head .
+Now march we hence : discharge the common sort
+With pay and thanks , and let's away to London
+And see our gentle queen how well she fares ;
+By this , I hope , she hath a son for me .
+
+Good day , my lord . What ! at your book so hard ?
+
+Ay , my good lord :my lord , I should say rather ;
+'Tis sin to flatter , 'good' was little better :
+'Good Gloucester' and 'good devil' were alike ,
+And both preposterous ; therefore , not 'good lord .'
+
+Sirrah , leave us to ourselves : we must confer .
+
+
+So flies the reckless shepherd from the wolf ;
+So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece ,
+And next his throat unto the butcher's knife .
+What scene of death hath Roscius now to act ?
+
+Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind ;
+The thief doth fear each bush an officer .
+
+The bird that hath been limed in a bush ,
+With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush ;
+And I , the hapless male to one sweet bird ,
+Have now the fatal object in my eye
+Where my poor young was lim'd , was caught , and kill'd .
+
+Why , what a peevish fool was that of Crete ,
+That taught his son the office of a fowl !
+And yet , for all his wings , the fool was drown'd .
+
+I , D dalus ; my poor boy , Icarus ;
+Thy father , Minos , that denied our course ;
+The sun , that sear'd the wings of my sweet boy ,
+Thy brother Edward , and thyself the sea ,
+Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life .
+Ah ! kill me with thy weapon , not with words .
+My breast can better brook thy dagger's point
+Than can my ears that tragic history .
+But wherefore dost thou come ? is't for my life ?
+
+Think'st thou I am an executioner ?
+
+A persecutor , I am sure , thou art :
+If murd'ring innocents be executing ,
+Why , then thou art an executioner .
+
+Thy son I kill'd for his presumption .
+
+Hadst thou been kill'd , when first thou didst presume ,
+Thou hadst not liv'd to kill a son of mine .
+And thus I prophesy : that many a thousand ,
+Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear ,
+And many an old man's sigh , and many a widow's ,
+And many an orphan's water-standing eye ,
+Men for their sons' , wives for their husbands' ,
+And orphans for their parents' timeless death ,
+Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born .
+The owl shriek'd at thy birth , an evil sign ;
+The night-crow cried , aboding luckless time ;
+Dogs howl'd , and hideous tempest shook down trees !
+The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top ,
+And chattering pies in dismal discords sung .
+Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain ,
+And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope ;
+To wit an indigest deformed lump ,
+Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree .
+Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast born ,
+To signify thou cam'st to bite the world :
+And , if the rest be true which I have heard ,
+Thou cam'st
+
+I'll hear no more : die , prophet , in thy speech :
+
+For this , amongst the rest , was I ordain'd .
+
+Ay , and for much more slaughter after this .
+O , God forgive my sins , and pardon thee !
+
+
+What ! will the aspiring blood of Lancaster
+Sink in the ground ? I thought it would have mounted .
+See how my sword weeps for the poor king's death !
+O ! may such purple tears be always shed
+From those that wish the downfall of our house .
+If any spark of life be yet remaining ,
+Down , down to hell ; and say I sent thee thither ,
+
+I , that have neither pity , love , nor fear .
+Indeed , 'tis true , that Henry told me of ;
+For I have often heard my mother say
+I came into the world with my legs forward .
+Had I not reason , think ye , to make haste ,
+And seek their ruin that usurp'd our right ?
+The midwife wonder'd , and the women cried
+'O ! Jesus bless us , he is born with teeth .'
+And so I was ; which plainly signified
+That I should snarl and bite and play the dog .
+Then , since the heavens have shap'd my body so ,
+Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it .
+I have no brother , I am like no brother ;
+And this word 'love ,' which greybeards call divine ,
+Be resident in men like one another
+And not in me : I am myself alone .
+Clarence , beware ; thou keep'st me from the light :
+But I will sort a pitchy day for thee ;
+For I will buzz abroad such prophecies
+That Edward shall be fearful of his life ;
+And then , to purge his fear , I'll be thy death .
+King Henry and the prince his son are gone :
+Clarence , thy turn is next , and then the rest ,
+Counting myself but bad till I be best .
+I'll throw thy body in another room ,
+And triumph , Henry , in thy day of doom .
+
+Once more we sit in England's royal throne ,
+Re-purchas'd with the blood of enemies .
+What valiant foemen like to autumn's corn ,
+Have we mow'd down , in tops of all their pride !
+Three Dukes of Somerset , threefold renown'd
+For hardy and undoubted champions ;
+Two Cliffords , as the father and the son ;
+And two Northumberlands : two braver men
+Ne'er spurr'd their coursers at the trumpet's sound ;
+With them , the two brave bears , Warwick and Montague ,
+That in their chains fetter'd the kingly lion ,
+And made the forest tremble when they roar'd .
+Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat ,
+And made our footstool of security .
+Come hither , Bess , and let me kiss my boy .
+Young Ned , for thee thine uncles and myself
+Have in our armours watch'd the winter's night ;
+Went all a-foot in summer's scalding heat ,
+That thou might'st repossess the crown in peace ;
+And of our labours thou shalt reap the gain .
+
+I'll blast his harvest , if your head were laid ;
+For yet I am not look'd on in the world .
+This shoulder was ordain'd so thick to heave ;
+And heave it shall some weight , or break my back :
+Work thou the way , and thou shalt execute .
+
+Clarence and Gloucester , love my lovely queen ;
+And kiss your princely nephew , brothers both .
+
+The duty , that I owe unto your majesty ,
+I seal upon the lips of this sweet babe .
+
+Thanks , noble Clarence ; worthy brother , thanks .
+
+And , that I love the tree from whence thou sprang'st ,
+Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit .
+
+
+To say the truth , so Judas kiss'd his master ,
+And cried 'all hail !' when as he meant all harm .
+
+Now am I seated as my soul delights ,
+Having my country's peace and brothers' loves .
+
+What will your Grace have done with Margaret ?
+Reignier , her father , to the King of France
+Hath pawn'd the Sicils and Jerusalem ,
+And hither have they sent it for her ransom .
+
+Away with her , and waft her hence to France .
+And now what rests but that we spend the time
+With stately triumphs , mirthful comic shows ,
+Such as befit the pleasure of the court ?
+Sound , drums and trumpets ! farewell , sour annoy !
+For here , I hope , begins our lasting joy .
+
+THE TRAGEDY OF KING RICHARD II
+
+Old John of Gaunt , time-honour'd Lancaster ,
+Hast thou , according to thy oath and band ,
+Brought hither Henry Hereford thy bold son ,
+Here to make good the boisterous late appeal ,
+Which then our leisure would not let us hear ,
+Against the Duke of Norfolk , Thomas Mowbray ?
+
+I have , my liege .
+
+Tell me , moreover , hast thou sounded him ,
+If he appeal the duke on ancient malice ,
+Or worthily , as a good subject should ,
+On some known ground of treachery in him ?
+
+As near as I could sift him on that argument ,
+On some apparent danger seen in him
+Aim'd at your highness , no inveterate malice .
+
+Then call them to our presence : face to face ,
+And frowning brow to brow , ourselves will hear
+The accuser and the accused freely speak :
+
+High-stomach'd are they both , and full of ire ,
+In rage deaf as the sea , hasty as fire .
+
+
+Many years of happy days befall
+My gracious sovereign , my most loving liege !
+
+Each day still better other's happiness ;
+Until the heavens , envying earth's good hap ,
+Add an immortal title to your crown !
+
+We thank you both : yet one but flatters us ,
+As well appeareth by the cause you come ;
+Namely , to appeal each other of high treason .
+Cousin of Hereford , what dost thou object
+Against the Duke of Norfolk , Thomas Mowbray ?
+
+First ,heaven be the record to my speech !
+In the devotion of a subject's love ,
+Tendering the precious safety of my prince ,
+And free from other misbegotten hate ,
+Come I appellant to this princely presence .
+Now , Thomas Mowbray , do I turn to thee ,
+And mark my greeting well ; for what I speak
+My body shall make good upon this earth ,
+Or my divine soul answer it in heaven .
+Thou art a traitor and a miscreant ;
+Too good to be so and too bad to live ,
+Since the more fair and crystal is the sky ,
+The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly .
+Once more , the more to aggravate the note ,
+With a foul traitor's name stuff I thy throat ;
+And wish , so please my sovereign , ere I move ,
+What my tongue speaks , my right drawn sword may prove .
+
+Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal :
+'Tis not the trial of a woman's war ,
+The bitter clamour of two eager tongues ,
+Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain ;
+The blood is hot that must be cool'd for this :
+Yet can I not of such tame patience boast
+As to be hush'd and nought at all to say .
+First , the fair reverence of your highness curbs me
+From giving reins and spurs to my free speech ;
+Which else would post until it had return'd
+These terms of treason doubled down his throat .
+Setting aside his high blood's royalty ,
+And let him be no kinsman to my liege ,
+I do defy him , and I spit at him ;
+Call him a slanderous coward and a villain :
+Which to maintain I would allow him odds ,
+And meet him , were I tied to run afoot
+Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps ,
+Or any other ground inhabitable ,
+Wherever Englishman durst set his foot .
+Meantime let this defend my loyalty :
+By all my hopes , most falsely doth he lie .
+
+Pale trembling coward , there I throw my gage ,
+Disclaiming here the kindred of the king ;
+And lay aside my high blood's royalty ,
+Which fear , not reverence , makes thee to except :
+If guilty dread have left thee so much strength
+As to take up mine honour's pawn , then stoop :
+By that , and all the rites of knighthood else ,
+Will I make good against thee , arm to arm ,
+What I have spoke , or thou canst worse devise .
+
+I take it up ; and by that sword I swear ,
+Which gently laid my knighthood on my shoulder ,
+I'll answer thee in any fair degree ,
+Or chivalrous design of knightly trial :
+And when I mount , alive may I not light ,
+If I be traitor or unjustly fight !
+
+What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's charge ?
+It must be great that can inherit us
+So much as of a thought of ill in him .
+
+Look , what I speak , my life shall prove it true ;
+That Mowbray hath receiv'd eight thousand nobles
+In name of lendings for your highness' soldiers ,
+The which he hath detain'd for lewd employments ,
+Like a false traitor and injurious villain .
+Besides I say and will in battle prove ,
+Or here or elsewhere to the furthest verge
+That ever was survey'd by English eye ,
+That all the treasons for these eighteen years
+Complotted and contrived in this land ,
+Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring .
+Further I say and further will maintain
+Upon his bad life to make all this good ,
+That he did plot the Duke of Gloucester's death ,
+Suggest his soon believing adversaries ,
+And consequently , like a traitor coward ,
+Sluic'd out his innocent soul through streams of blood :
+Which blood , like sacrificing Abel's , cries ,
+Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth ,
+To me for justice and rough chastisement ;
+And , by the glorious worth of my descent ,
+This arm shall do it , or this life be spent .
+
+How high a pitch his resolution soars !
+Thomas of Norfolk , what sayst thou to this ?
+
+O ! let my sovereign turn away his face
+And bid his ears a little while be deaf ,
+Till I have told this slander of his blood
+How God and good men hate so foul a liar .
+
+Mowbray , impartial are our eyes and ears :
+Were he my brother , nay , my kingdom's heir ,
+As he is but my father's brother's son ,
+Now , by my sceptre's awe I make a vow ,
+Such neighbour nearness to our sacred blood
+Should nothing privilege him , nor partialize
+The unstooping firmness of my upright soul .
+He is our subject , Mowbray ; so art thou :
+Free speech and fearless I to thee allow .
+
+Then , Bolingbroke , as low as to thy heart ,
+Through the false passage of thy throat , thou liest .
+Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais
+Disburs'd I duly to his highness' soldiers ;
+The other part reserv'd I by consent ,
+For that my sovereign liege was in my debt
+Upon remainder of a dear account ,
+Since last I went to France to fetch his queen .
+Now swallow down that lie . For Gloucester's death ,
+I slew him not ; but to mine own disgrace
+Neglected my sworn duty in that case .
+For you , my noble Lord of Lancaster ,
+The honourable father to my foe ,
+Once did I lay an ambush for your life ,
+A trespass that doth vex my grieved soul ;
+But ere I last receiv'd the sacrament
+I did confess it , and exactly begg'd
+Your Grace's pardon , and I hope I had it .
+This is my fault : as for the rest appeal'd ,
+It issues from the rancour of a villain ,
+A recreant and most degenerate traitor ;
+Which in myself I boldly will defend ,
+And interchangeably hurl down my gage
+Upon this overweening traitor's foot ,
+To prove myself a loyal gentleman
+Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bosom .
+In haste whereof , most heartily I pray
+Your highness to assign our trial day .
+
+Wrath-kindled gentlemen , be rul'd by me ;
+Let's purge this choler without letting blood :
+This we prescribe , though no physician ;
+Deep malice makes too deep incision :
+Forget , forgive ; conclude and be agreed ,
+Our doctors say this is no month to bleed .
+Good uncle , let this end where it begun ;
+We'll calm the Duke of Norfolk , you your son .
+
+To be a make-peace shall become my age :
+Throw down , my son , the Duke of Norfolk's gage .
+
+And , Norfolk , throw down his .
+
+When , Harry , when ?
+Obedience bids I should not bid again .
+
+Norfolk , throw down , we bid ; there is no boot .
+
+Myself I throw , dread sovereign , at thy foot .
+My life thou shalt command , but not my shame :
+The one my duty owes ; but my fair name ,
+Despite of death that lives upon my grave ,
+To dark dishonour's use thou shalt not have .
+I am disgrac'd , impeach'd , and baffled here ,
+Pierc'd to the soul with slander's venom'd spear ,
+The which no balm can cure but his heart-blood
+Which breath'd this poison .
+
+Rage must be withstood :
+Give me his gage : lions make leopards tame .
+
+Yea , but not change his spots : take but my shame ,
+And I resign my gage . My dear dear lord ,
+The purest treasure mortal times afford
+Is spotless reputation ; that away ,
+Men are but gilded loam or painted clay .
+A jewel in a ten-times-barr'd-up chest
+Is a bold spirit in a loyal breast .
+Mine honour is my life ; both grow in one ;
+Take honour from me , and my life is done :
+Then , dear my liege , mine honour let me try ;
+In that I live and for that will I die .
+
+Cousin , throw down your gage : do you begin .
+
+O ! God defend my soul from such deep sin .
+Shall I seem crest fall'n in my father's sight ,
+Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height
+Before this out-dar'd dastard ? Ere my tongue
+Shall wound mine honour with such feeble wrong ,
+Or sound so base a parle , my teeth shall tear
+The slavish motive of recanting fear ,
+And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace ,
+Where shame doth harbour , even in Mowbray's face .
+
+
+We were not born to sue , but to command :
+Which since we cannot do to make you friends ,
+Be ready , as your lives shall answer it ,
+At Coventry , upon Saint Lambert's day :
+There shall your swords and lances arbitrate
+The swelling difference of your settled hate :
+Since we cannot atone you , we shall see
+Justice design the victor's chivalry .
+Marshal , command our officers-at-arms
+Be ready to direct these home alarms .
+
+
+Alas ! the part I had in Woodstock's blood
+Doth more solicit me than your exclaims ,
+To stir against the butchers of his life .
+But since correction lieth in those hands
+Which made the fault that we cannot correct ,
+Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven ;
+Who , when they see the hours ripe on earth ,
+Will rain hot vengeance on offenders' heads .
+
+Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur ?
+Hath love in thy old blood no living fire ?
+Edward's seven sons , whereof thyself art one ,
+Were as seven vials of his sacred blood ,
+Or seven fair branches springing from one root :
+Some of those seven are dried by nature's course ,
+Some of those branches by the Destinies cut ;
+But Thomas , my dear lord , my life , my Gloucester ,
+One vial full of Edward's sacred blood ,
+One flourishing branch of his most royal root ,
+Is crack'd , and all the precious liquor spilt ;
+Is hack'd down , and his summer leaves all vaded ,
+By envy's hand and murder's bloody axe .
+Ah , Gaunt ! his blood was thine : that bed , that womb ,
+That metal , that self-mould , that fashion'd thee
+Made him a man ; and though thou liv'st and breath'st ,
+Yet art thou slain in him : thou dost consent
+In some large measure to thy father's death
+In that thou seest thy wretched brother die ,
+Who was the model of thy father's life .
+Call it not patience , Gaunt ; it is despair :
+In suffering thus thy brother to be slaughter'd
+Thou show'st the naked pathway to thy life ,
+Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee :
+That which in mean men we entitle patience
+Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts .
+What shall I say ? to safeguard thine own life ,
+The best way is to venge my Gloucester's death .
+
+God's is the quarrel ; for God's substitute ,
+His deputy anointed in his sight ,
+Hath caus'd his death ; the which if wrongfully ,
+Let heaven revenge , for I may never lift
+An angry arm against his minister .
+
+Where then , alas ! may I complain myself ?
+
+To God , the widow's champion and defence .
+
+Why then , I will . Farewell , old Gaunt .
+Thou go'st to Coventry , there to behold
+Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight :
+O ! sit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's spear ,
+That it may enter butcher Mowbray's breast .
+Or if misfortune miss the first career ,
+Be Mowbray's sins so heavy in his bosom
+That they may break his foaming courser's back ,
+And throw the rider headlong in the lists ,
+A caitiff recreant to my cousin Hereford !
+Farewell , old Gaunt : thy sometimes brother's wife
+With her companion grief must end her life .
+
+Sister , farewell ; I must to Coventry .
+As much good stay with thee as go with me !
+
+Yet one word more . Grief boundeth where it falls ,
+Not with the empty hollowness , but weight :
+I take my leave before I have begun ,
+For sorrow ends not when it seemeth done .
+Commend me to my brother , Edmund York .
+Lo ! this is all : nay , yet depart not so ;
+Though this be all , do not so quickly go ;
+I shall remember more . Bid him ah , what ?
+With all good speed at Plashy visit me .
+Alack ! and what shall good old York there see
+But empty lodgings and unfurnish'd walls ,
+Unpeopled offices , untrodden stones ?
+And what hear there for welcome but my groans ?
+Therefore commend me ; let him not come there ,
+To seek out sorrow that dwells every where .
+Desolate , desolate will I hence , and die :
+The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye .
+
+
+My Lord Aumerle , is Harry Hereford arm'd ?
+
+Yea , at all points , and longs to enter in .
+
+The Duke of Norfolk , sprightfully and bold ,
+Stays but the summons of the appellant's trumpet .
+
+Why then , the champions are prepar'd , and stay
+For nothing but his majesty's approach .
+
+
+Marshal , demand of yonder champion
+The cause of his arrival here in arms :
+Ask him his name , and orderly proceed
+To swear him in the justice of his cause .
+
+In God's name , and the king's , say who thou art ,
+And why thou com'st thus knightly clad in arms ,
+Against what man thou com'st , and what thy quarrel .
+Speak truly , on thy knighthood and thine oath :
+As so defend thee heaven and thy valour !
+
+My name is Thomas Mowbray , Duke of Norfolk ,
+Who hither come engaged by my oath ,
+Which God defend a knight should violate !
+Both to defend my loyalty and truth
+To God , my king , and his succeeding issue ,
+Against the Duke of Hereford that appeals me ;
+And , by the grace of God and this mine arm ,
+To prove him , in defending of myself ,
+A traitor to my God , my king , and me :
+And as I truly fight , defend me heaven !
+
+Marshal , ask yonder knight in arms ,
+Both who he is and why he cometh hither
+Thus plated in habiliments of war ;
+And formally , according to our law ,
+Depose him in the justice of his cause .
+
+What is thy name ? and wherefore com'st thou hither ,
+Before King Richard in his royal lists ?
+Against whom comest thou ? and what's thy quarrel ?
+Speak like a true knight , so defend thee heaven !
+
+Harry of Hereford , Lancaster , and Derby ,
+Am I ; who ready here do stand in arms ,
+To prove by God's grace and my body's valour ,
+In lists , on Thomas Mowbray , Duke of Norfolk ,
+That he's a traitor foul and dangerous ,
+To God of heaven , King Richard , and to me :
+And as I truly fight , defend me heaven !
+
+On pain of death , no person be so bold
+Or daring-hardy as to touch the lists ,
+Except the marshal and such officers
+Appointed to direct these fair designs .
+
+Lord marshal , let me kiss my sovereign's hand ,
+And bow my knee before his majesty :
+For Mowbray and myself are like two men
+That vow a long and weary pilgrimage ;
+Then let us take a ceremonious leave
+And loving farewell of our several friends .
+
+The appellant in all duty greets your highness ,
+And craves to kiss your hand and take his leave .
+
+We will descend and fold him in our arms .
+Cousin of Hereford , as thy cause is right ,
+So be thy fortune in this royal fight !
+Farewell , my blood ; which if to-day thou shed ,
+Lament we may , but not revenge thee dead .
+
+O ! let no noble eye profane a tear
+For me , if I be gor'd with Mowbray's spear .
+As confident as is the falcon's flight
+Against a bird , do I with Mowbray fight .
+My loving lord , I take my leave of you ;
+Of you , my noble cousin , Lord Aumerle ;
+Not sick , although I have to do with death ,
+But lusty , young , and cheerly drawing breath .
+Lo ! as at English feasts , so I regreet
+The daintiest last , to make the end most sweet :
+O thou , the earthly author of my blood ,
+Whose youthful spirit , in me regenerate ,
+Doth with a two-fold vigour lift me up
+To reach at victory above my head ,
+Add proof unto mine armour with thy prayers ,
+And with thy blessings steel my lance's point ,
+That it may enter Mowbray's waxen coat ,
+And furbish new the name of John a Gaunt ,
+Even in the lusty haviour of his son .
+
+God in thy good cause make thee prosperous !
+Be swift like lightning in the execution ;
+And let thy blows , doubly redoubled ,
+Fall like amazing thunder on the casque
+Of thy adverse pernicious enemy :
+Rouse up thy youthful blood , be valiant and live .
+
+Mine innocency and Saint George to thrive !
+
+
+However God or fortune cast my lot ,
+There lives or dies , true to King Richard's throne ,
+A loyal , just , and upright gentleman .
+Never did captive with a freer heart
+Cast off his chains of bondage and embrace
+His golden uncontroll'd enfranchisement ,
+More than my dancing soul doth celebrate
+This feast of battle with mine adversary .
+Most mighty liege , and my companion peers ,
+Take from my mouth the wish of happy years .
+As gentle and as jocund as to jest ,
+Go I to fight : truth has a quiet breast .
+
+Farewell , my lord : securely I espy
+Virtue with valour couched in thine eye .
+Order the trial , marshal , and begin .
+
+
+Harry of Hereford , Lancaster , and Derby ,
+Receive thy lance ; and God defend the right !
+
+Strong as a tower in hope , I cry 'amen .'
+
+Go bear this lance to Thomas , Duke of Norfolk .
+
+Harry of Hereford , Lancaster , and Derby ,
+Stands here for God , his sovereign , and himself ,
+On pain to be found false and recreant ,
+To prove the Duke of Norfolk , Thomas Mowbray ,
+A traitor to his God , his king , and him ;
+And dares him to set forward to the fight .
+
+Here standeth Thomas Mowbray , Duke of Norfolk ,
+On pain to be found false and recreant ,
+Both to defend himself and to approve
+Henry of Hereford , Lancaster , and Derby ,
+To God , his sovereign , and to him , disloyal ;
+Courageously and with a free desire ,
+Attending but the signal to begin .
+
+Sound , trumpets ; and set forward , combatants .
+
+Stay , stay , the king hath thrown his warderdown .
+
+Let them lay by their helmets and their spears ,
+And both return back to their chairs again :
+Withdraw with us ; and let the trumpets sound
+While we return these dukes what we decree .
+
+Draw near ,
+And list what with our council we have done .
+For that our kingdom's earth should not be soil'd
+With that dear blood which it hath fostered ;
+And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect
+Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbours' swords ;
+And for we think the eagle-winged pride
+Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts ,
+With rival-hating envy , set on you
+To wake our peace , which in our country's cradle
+Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep ;
+Which so rous'd up with boist'rous untun'd drums ,
+With harsh-resounding trumpets' dreadful bray ,
+And grating shock of wrathful iron arms ,
+Might from our quiet confines fright fair peace
+And make us wade even in our kindred's blood :
+Therefore , we banish you our territories :
+You , cousin Hereford , upon pain of life ,
+Till twice five summers have enrich'd our fields ,
+Shall not regreet our fair dominions ,
+But tread the stranger paths of banishment .
+
+Your will be done : this must my comfort be ,
+That sun that warms you here shall shine on me ;
+And those his golden beams to you here lent
+Shall point on me and gild my banishment .
+
+Norfolk , for thee remains a heavier doom ,
+Which I with some unwillingness pronounce :
+The sly slow hours shall not determinate
+The dateless limit of thy dear exile ;
+The hopeless word of 'never to return'
+Breathe I against thee , upon pain of life .
+
+A heavy sentence , my most sovereign liege ,
+And all unlook'd for from your highness' mouth :
+A dearer merit , not so deep a maim
+As to be cast forth in the common air ,
+Have I deserved at your highness' hands .
+The language I have learn'd these forty years ,
+My native English , now I must forego ;
+And now my tongue's use is to me no more
+Than an unstringed viol or a harp ,
+Or like a cunning instrument cas'd up ,
+Or , being open , put into his hands
+That knows no touch to tune the harmony :
+Within my mouth you have engaol'd my tongue ,
+Doubly portcullis'd with my teeth and lips ;
+And dull , unfeeling , barren ignorance
+Is made my gaoler to attend on me .
+I am too old to fawn upon a nurse ,
+Too far in years to be a pupil now :
+What is thy sentence then but speechless death ,
+Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath ?
+
+It boots thee not to be compassionate :
+After our sentence plaining comes too late .
+
+Then , thus I turn me from my country's light ,
+To dwell in solemn shades of endless night .
+
+
+Return again , and take an oath with thee .
+Lay on our royal sword your banish'd hands ;
+Swear by the duty that you owe to God
+Our part therein we banish with yourselves
+To keep the oath that we administer .
+You never shall ,so help you truth and God !
+Embrace each other's love in banishment ;
+Nor never look upon each other's face ;
+Nor never write , regreet , nor reconcile
+This low'ring tempest of your home-bred hate ;
+Nor never by advised purpose meet
+To plot , contrive , or complot any ill
+'Gainst us , our state , our subjects , or our land .
+
+I swear .
+
+And I , to keep all this .
+
+Norfolk , so far , as to mine enemy :
+By this time , had the king permitted us ,
+One of our souls had wander'd in the air ,
+Banish'd this frail sepulchre of our flesh ,
+As now our flesh is banish'd from this land :
+Confess thy treasons ere thou fly the realm ;
+Since thou hast far to go , bear not along
+The clogging burden of a guilty soul .
+
+No , Bolingbroke : if ever I were traitor ,
+My name be blotted from the book of life ,
+And I from heaven banish'd as from hence !
+But what thou art , God , thou , and I do know ;
+And all too soon , I fear , the king shall rue .
+Farewell , my liege . Now no way can I stray ;
+Save back to England , all the world's my way .
+
+
+Uncle , even in the glasses of thine eyes
+I see thy grieved heart : thy sad aspect
+Hath from the number of his banish'd years
+Pluck'd four away .
+
+Six frozen winters spent ,
+Return with welcome home from banishment .
+
+How long a time lies in one little word !
+Four lagging winters and four wanton springs
+End in a word : such is the breath of kings .
+
+I thank my liege , that in regard of me
+He shortens four years of my son's exile ;
+But little vantage shall I reap thereby :
+For , ere the six years that he hath to spend
+Can change their moons and bring their times about ,
+My oil-dried lamp and time-bewasted light
+Shall be extinct with age and endless night ;
+My inch of taper will be burnt and done ,
+And blindfold death not let me see my son .
+
+Why , uncle , thou hast many years to live .
+
+But not a minute , king , that thou canst give :
+Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow ,
+And pluck nights from me , but not lend a morrow ;
+Thou canst help time to furrow me with age .
+But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage ;
+Thy word is current with him for my death ,
+But dead , thy kingdom cannot buy my breath .
+
+Thy son is banish'd upon good advice ,
+Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gave :
+Why at our justice seem'st thou then to lower ?
+
+Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour .
+You urg'd me as a judge ; but I had rather
+You would have bid me argue like a father .
+O ! had it been a stranger , not my child ,
+To smooth his fault I should have been more mild :
+A partial slander sought I to avoid ,
+And in the sentence my own life destroy'd .
+Alas ! I look'd when some of you should say ,
+I was too strict to make mine own away ;
+But you gave leave to my unwilling tongue
+Against my will to do myself this wrong .
+
+Cousin , farewell ; and , uncle , bid him so :
+Six years we banish him , and he shall go .
+
+
+Cousin , farewell : what presence must not know ,
+From where you do remain let paper show .
+
+My lord , no leave take I ; for I will ride ,
+As far as land will let me , by your side .
+
+O ! to what purpose dost thou hoard thy words ,
+That thou return'st no greeting to thy friends ?
+
+I have too few to take my leave of you ,
+When the tongue's office should be prodigal
+To breathe the abundant dolour of the heart .
+
+Thy grief is but thy absence for a time .
+
+Joy absent , grief is present for that time .
+
+What is six winters ? they are quickly gone .
+
+To men in joy ; but grief makes one hour ten .
+
+Call it a travel that thou tak'st for pleasure .
+
+My heart will sigh when I miscall it so ,
+Which finds it an inforced pilgrimage .
+
+The sullen passage of thy weary steps
+Esteem as foil wherein thou art to set
+The precious jewel of thy home return .
+
+Nay , rather , every tedious stride I make
+Will but remember me what a deal of world
+I wander from the jewels that I love .
+Must I not serve a long apprenticehood
+To foreign passages , and in the end ,
+Having my freedom , boast of nothing else
+But that I was a journeyman to grief ?
+
+All places that the eye of heaven visits
+Are to a wise man ports and happy havens .
+Teach thy necessity to reason thus ;
+There is no virtue like necessity .
+Think not the king did banish thee ,
+But thou the king . Woe doth the heavier sit ,
+Where it perceives it is but faintly borne .
+Go , say I sent thee forth to purchase honour ,
+And not the king exil'd thee ; or suppose
+Devouring pestilence hangs in our air ,
+And thou art flying to a fresher clime .
+Look , what thy soul holds dear , imagine it
+To lie that way thou go'st , not whence thou com'st .
+Suppose the singing birds musicians ,
+The grass whereon thou tread'st the presence strew'd ,
+The flowers fair ladies , and thy steps no more
+Than a delightful measure or a dance ;
+For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite
+The man that mocks at it and sets it light .
+
+O ! who can hold a fire in his hand
+By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ?
+Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite
+By bare imagination of a feast ?
+Or wallow naked in December snow
+By thinking on fantastic summer's heat ?
+O , no ! the apprehension of the good
+Gives but the greater feeling to the worse :
+Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more
+Than when it bites , but lanceth not the sore .
+
+Come , come , my son , I'll bring thee on thy way .
+Had I thy youth and cause , I would not stay .
+
+Then , England's ground , farewell ; sweet soil , adieu :
+My mother , and my nurse , that bears me yet !
+Where'er I wander , boast of this I can ,
+Though banish'd , yet a true-born Englishman .
+
+
+We did observe . Cousin Aumerle ,
+How far brought you high Hereford on his way ?
+
+I brought high Hereford , if you call him so ,
+But to the next highway , and there I left him .
+
+And say , what store of parting tears were shed ?
+
+Faith , none for me ; except the northeast wind ,
+Which then blew bitterly against our faces ,
+Awak'd the sleeping rheum , and so by chance
+Did grace our hollow parting with a tear .
+
+What said our cousin when you parted with him ?
+
+'Farewell :'
+And , for my heart disdained that my tongue
+Should so profane the word , that taught me craft
+To counterfeit oppression of such grief
+That words seem'd buried in my sorrow's grave .
+Marry , would the word 'farewell' have lengthen'd hours
+And added years to his short banishment ,
+He should have had a volume of farewells ;
+But , since it would not , he had none of me .
+
+He is our cousin , cousin ; but 'tis doubt ,
+When time shall call him home from banishment ,
+Whether our kinsman come to see his friends .
+Ourself and Bushy , Bagot here and Green
+Observ'd his courtship to the common people ,
+How he did seem to dive into their hearts
+With humble and familiar courtesy ,
+What reverence he did throw away on slaves ,
+Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of smiles
+And patient underbearing of his fortune ,
+As 'twere to banish their affects with him .
+Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench ;
+A brace of draymen bid God speed him well ,
+And had the tribute of his supple knee ,
+With 'Thanks , my countrymen , my loving friends ;'
+As were our England in reversion his ,
+And he our subjects' next degree in hope .
+
+Well , he is gone ; and with him go these thoughts .
+Now for the rebels which stand out in Ireland ;
+Expedient manage must be made , my liege ,
+Ere further leisure yield them further means
+For their advantage and your highness' loss .
+
+We will ourself in person to this war .
+And , for our coffers with too great a court
+And liberal largess are grown somewhat light ,
+We are enforc'd to farm our royal realm ;
+The revenue whereof shall furnish us
+For our affairs in hand . If that come short ,
+Our substitutes at home shall have blank charters ;
+Whereto , when they shall know what men are rich ,
+They shall subscribe them for large sums of gold ,
+And send them after to supply our wants ;
+For we will make for Ireland presently .
+
+Bushy , what news ?
+
+Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick , my lord ,
+Suddenly taken , and hath sent post-haste
+To entreat your majesty to visit him .
+
+Where lies he ?
+
+At Ely House .
+
+Now , put it , God . in his physician's mind
+To help him to his grave immediately !
+The lining of his coffers shall make coats
+To deck our soldiers for these Irish wars .
+Come , gentlemen , let's all go visit him :
+Pray God we may make haste , and come too late .
+
+Amen .
+
+Will the king come , that I may breathe my last
+In wholesome counsel to his unstaid youth ?
+
+Vex not yourself , nor strive not with your breath ;
+For all in vain comes counsel to his ear .
+
+O ! but they say the tongues of dying men
+Enforce attention like deep harmony :
+Where words are scarce , they are seldom spent in vain ,
+For they breathe truth that breathe their words in pain .
+He that no more must say is listen'd more
+Than they whom youth and ease have taught to glose ;
+More are men's ends mark'd than their lives before :
+The setting sun , and music at the close ,
+As the last taste of sweets , is sweetest last ,
+Writ in remembrance more than things long past :
+Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear ,
+My death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear .
+
+No ; it is stopp'd with other flattering sounds ,
+As praises of his state : then there are fond
+Lascivious metres , to whose venom sound
+The open ear of youth doth always listen :
+Report of fashions in proud Italy ,
+Whose manners still our tardy apish nation
+Limps after in base imitation .
+Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity ,
+So it be new there's no respect how vile ,
+That is not quickly buzz'd into his ears ?
+Then all too late comes counsel to be heard ,
+Where will doth mutiny with wit's regard .
+Direct not him whose way himself will choose :
+'Tis breath thou lack'st , and that breath wilt thou lose .
+
+Methinks I am a prophet new inspir'd ,
+And thus expiring do foretell of him :
+His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last ,
+For violent fires soon burn out themselves ;
+Small showers last long , but sudden storms are short ;
+He tires betimes that spurs too fast betimes ;
+With eager feeding food doth choke the feeder :
+Light vanity , insatiate cormorant ,
+Consuming means , soon preys upon itself .
+This royal throne of kings , this scepter'd isle ,
+This earth of majesty , this seat of Mars ,
+This other Eden , demi-paradise ,
+This fortress built by Nature for herself
+Against infection and the hand of war ,
+This happy breed of men , this little world ,
+This precious stone set in the silver sea ,
+Which serves it in the office of a wall ,
+Or as a moat defensive to a house ,
+Against the envy of less happier lands ,
+This blessed plot , this earth , this realm , this England ,
+This nurse , this teeming womb of royal kings ,
+Fear'd by their breed and famous by their birth ,
+Renowned for their deeds as far from home ,
+For Christian service and true chivalry ,
+As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry
+Of the world's ransom , blessed Mary's Son :
+This land of such dear souls , this dear , dear land ,
+Dear for her reputation through the world ,
+Is now leas'd out ,I die pronouncing it ,
+Like to a tenement , or pelting farm :
+England , bound in with the triumphant sea ,
+Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege
+Of watery Neptune , is now bound in with shame ,
+With inky blots , and rotten parchment bonds :
+That England , that was wont to conquer others ,
+Hath made a shameful conquest of itself .
+Ah ! would the scandal vanish with my life ,
+How happy then were my ensuing death .
+
+
+The king is come : deal mildly with his youth ;
+For young hot colts , being rag'd , do rage the more .
+
+How fares our noble uncle , Lancaster ?
+
+What comfort , man ? How is't with aged Gaunt ?
+
+O ! how that name befits my composition ;
+Old Gaunt indeed , and gaunt in being old :
+Within me grief hath kept a tedious fast ;
+And who abstains from meat that is not gaunt ?
+For sleeping England long time have I watch'd ;
+Watching breeds leanness , leanness is all gaunt .
+The pleasure that some fathers feed upon
+Is my strict fast , I mean my children's looks ;
+And therein fasting hast thou made me gaunt .
+Gaunt am I for the grave , gaunt as a grave ,
+Whose hollow womb inherits nought but bones .
+
+Can sick men play so nicely with their names ?
+
+No ; misery makes sport to mock itself :
+Since thou dost seek to kill my name in me ,
+I mock my name , great king , to flatter thee .
+
+Should dying men flatter with those that live ?
+
+No , no ; men living flatter those that die .
+
+Thou , now a-dying , sayst thou flatter'st me .
+
+O , no ! thou diest , though I the sicker be .
+
+I am in health , I breathe , and see thee ill .
+
+Now , he that made me knows I see thee ill ;
+Ill in myself to see , and in thee seeing ill .
+Thy death-bed is no lesser than thy land
+Wherein thou liest in reputation sick :
+And thou , too careless patient as thou art ,
+Committ'st thy anointed body to the cure
+Of those physicians that first wounded thee :
+A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown ,
+Whose compass is no bigger than thy head ;
+And yet , incaged in so small a verge ,
+The waste is no whit lesser than thy land .
+O ! had thy grandsire , with a prophet's eye ,
+Seen how his son's son should destroy his sons ,
+From forth thy reach he would have laid thy shame ,
+Deposing thee before thou wert possess'd ,
+Which art possess'd now to depose thyself .
+Why , cousin , wert thou regent of the world ,
+It were a shame to let this land by lease ;
+But for thy world enjoying but this land ,
+Is it not more than shame to shame it so ?
+Landlord of England art thou now , not king :
+Thy state of law is bond-slave to the law ,
+And
+
+And thou a lunatic lean-witted fool ,
+Presuming on an ague's privilege ,
+Dar'st with thy frozen admonition
+Make pale our cheek , chasing the royal blood
+With fury from his native residence .
+Now , by my seat's right royal majesty ,
+Wert thou not brother to great Edward's son ,
+This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head
+Should run thy head from thy unreverent shoulders .
+
+O ! spare me not , my brother Edward's son ,
+For that I was his father Edward's son .
+That blood already , like the pelican ,
+Hast thou tapp'd out and drunkenly carous'd :
+My brother Gloucester , plain well-meaning soul ,
+Whom fair befall in heaven 'mongst happy souls !
+May be a precedent and witness good
+That thou respect'st not spilling Edward's blood :
+Join with the present sickness that I have ;
+And thy unkindness be like crooked age ,
+To crop at once a too-long wither'd flower .
+Live in thy shame , but die not shame with thee !
+These words hereafter thy tormentors be !
+Convey me to my bed , then to my grave :
+Love they to live that love and honour have .
+
+
+And let them die that age and sullens have ;
+For both hast thou , and both become the grave .
+
+I do beseech your majesty , impute his words
+To wayward sickliness and age in him :
+He loves you , on my life , and holds you dear
+As Harry , Duke of Hereford , were he here .
+
+Right , you say true : as Hereford's love , so his ;
+As theirs , so mine ; and all be as it is .
+
+
+My liege , old Gaunt commends him to your majesty .
+
+What says he ?
+
+Nay , nothing ; all is said :
+His tongue is now a stringless instrument ;
+Words , life , and all , old Lancaster hath spent .
+
+Be York the next that must be bankrupt so !
+Though death be poor , it ends a mortal woe .
+
+The ripest fruit first falls , and so doth he :
+His time is spent ; our pilgrimage must be .
+So much for that . Now for our Irish wars .
+We must supplant those rough rug-headed kerns ,
+Which live like venom where no venom else
+But only they have privilege to live .
+And for these great affairs do ask some charge ,
+Towards our assistance we do seize to us
+The plate , coin , revenues , and moveables ,
+Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possess'd .
+
+How long shall I be patient ? Ah ! how long
+Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong ?
+Not Gloucester's death , nor Hereford's banishment ,
+Not Gaunt's rebukes , nor England's private wrongs ,
+Nor the prevention of poor Bolingbroke
+About his marriage , nor my own disgrace ,
+Have ever made me sour my patient cheek ,
+Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign's face .
+I am the last of noble Edward's sons ,
+Of whom thy father , Prince of Wales , was first ;
+In war was never lion rag'd more fierce ,
+In peace was never gentle lamb more mild ,
+Than was that young and princely gentleman .
+His face thou hast , for even so look'd he ,
+Accomplish'd with the number of thy hours ;
+But when he frown'd , it was against the French ,
+And not against his friends ; his noble hand
+Did win what he did spend , and spent not that
+Which his triumphant father's hand had won :
+His hands were guilty of no kindred's blood ,
+But bloody with the enemies of his kin .
+O , Richard ! York is too far gone with grief ,
+Or else he never would compare between .
+
+Why , uncle , what's the matter ?
+
+O ! my liege .
+Pardon me , if you please ; if not , I , pleas'd
+Not to be pardon'd , am content withal .
+Seek you to seize and gripe into your hands
+The royalties and rights of banish'd Hereford ?
+Is not Gaunt dead , and doth not Hereford live ?
+Was not Gaunt just , and is not Harry true ?
+Did not the one deserve to have an heir ?
+Is not his heir a well-deserving son ?
+Take Hereford's rights away , and take from Time
+His charters and his customary rights ;
+Let not to-morrow then ensue to-day ;
+Be not thyself ; for how art thou a king
+But by fair sequence and succession ?
+Now , afore God ,God forbid I say true !
+If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights ,
+Call in the letters-patent that he hath
+By his attorneys-general to sue
+His livery , and deny his offer'd homage ,
+You pluck a thousand dangers on your head ,
+You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts ,
+And prick my tender patience to those thoughts
+Which honour and allegiance cannot think .
+
+Think what you will : we seize into our hands
+His plate , his goods , his money , and his lands .
+
+I'll not be by the while : my liege , farewell :
+What will ensue hereof , there's none can tell ;
+But by bad courses may be understood
+That their events can never fall out good .
+
+
+Go , Bushy , to the Earl of Wiltshire straight :
+Bid him repair to us to Ely House
+To see this business . To-morrow next
+We will for Ireland ; and 'tis time , I trow :
+And we create , in absence of ourself ,
+Our uncle York lord governor of England ;
+For he is just , and always lov'd us well .
+Come on , our queen : to-morrow must we part ;
+Be merry , for our time of stay is short .
+
+Well , lords , the Duke of Lancaster is dead .
+
+And living too ; for now his son is duke .
+
+Barely in title , not in revenue .
+
+Richly in both , if justice had her right .
+
+My heart is great ; but it must break with silence ,
+Ere't be disburden'd with a liberal tongue .
+
+Nay , speak thy mind ; and let him ne'er speak more
+That speaks thy words again to do thee harm !
+
+Tends that thou'dst speak to the Duke of Hereford ?
+If it be so , out with it boldly , man ;
+Quick is mine ear to hear of good towards him .
+
+No good at all that I can do for him ,
+Unless you call it good to pity him ,
+Bereft and gelded of his patrimony .
+
+Now , afore God , 'tis shame such wrongs are borne
+In him , a royal prince , and many more
+Of noble blood in this declining land .
+The king is not himself , but basely led
+By flatterers ; and what they will inform ,
+Merely in hate , 'gainst any of us all ,
+That will the king severely prosecute
+'Gainst us , our lives , our children , and our heirs .
+
+The commons hath he pill'd with grievous taxes ,
+And quite lost their hearts : the nobles hath he fin'd
+For ancient quarrels , and quite lost their hearts .
+
+And daily new exactions are devis'd ;
+As blanks , benevolences , and I wot not what :
+But what , o' God's name , doth become of this ?
+
+Wars have not wasted it , for warr'd he hath not ,
+But basely yielded upon compromise
+That which his ancestors achiev'd with blows .
+More hath he spent in peace than they in wars .
+
+The Earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in farm .
+
+The king's grown bankrupt , like a broken man .
+
+Reproach and dissolution hangeth over him .
+
+He hath not money for these Irish wars ,
+His burdenous taxations notwithstanding ,
+But by the robbing of the banish'd duke .
+
+His noble kinsman : most degenerate king !
+But , lords , we hear this fearful tempest sing ,
+Yet seek no shelter to avoid the storm ;
+We see the wind sit sore upon our sails ,
+And yet we strike not , but securely perish .
+
+We see the very wrack that we must suffer ;
+And unavoided is the danger now ,
+For suffering so the causes of our wrack .
+
+Not so : even through the hollow eyes of death
+Ispy life peering ; but I dare not say
+How near the tidings of our comfort is .
+
+Nay , let us share thy thoughts , as thou dost ours .
+
+Be confident to speak , Northumberland :
+We three are but thyself : and , speaking so ,
+Thy words are but as thoughts ; therefore , be bold .
+
+Then thus : I have from Port le Blanc , a bay
+In Brittany , receiv'd intelligence
+That Harry Duke of Hereford , Rainold Lord Cobham ,
+That late broke from the Duke of Exeter ,
+His brother , Archbishop late of Canterbury ,
+Sir Thomas Erpingham , Sir John Ramston ,
+Sir John Norbery , Sir Robert Waterton , and Francis Quoint ,
+All these well furnish'd by the Duke of Britaine ,
+With eight tall ships , three thousand men of war ,
+Are making hither with all due expedience ,
+And shortly mean to touch our northern shore .
+Perhaps they had ere this , but that they stay
+The first departing of the king for Ireland .
+If then we shall shake off our slavish yoke ,
+Imp out our drooping country's broken wing ,
+Redeem from broking pawn the blemish'd crown ,
+Wipe off the dust that hides our sceptre's gilt ,
+And make high majesty look like itself ,
+Away with me in post to Ravenspurgh ;
+But if you faint , as fearing to do so ,
+Stay and be secret , and myself will go .
+
+To horse , to horse ! urge doubts to them that fear .
+
+Hold out my horse , and I will first be there .
+
+
+Madam , your majesty is too much sad :
+You promis'd , when you parted with the king ,
+To lay aside life-harming heaviness ,
+And entertain a cheerful disposition .
+
+To please the king I did ; to please myself
+I cannot do it ; yet I know no cause
+Why I should welcome such a guest as grief ,
+Save bidding farewell to so sweet a guest
+As my sweet Richard : yet , again , methinks ,
+Some unborn sorrow , ripe in fortune's womb ,
+Is coming towards me , and my inward soul
+With nothing trembles ; at some thing it grieves
+More than with parting from my lord the king .
+
+Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows ,
+Which show like grief itself , but are not so .
+For sorrow's eye , glazed with blinding tears ,
+Divides one thing entire to many objects ;
+Like perspectives , which rightly gaz'd upon
+Show nothing but confusion ; ey'd awry
+Distinguish form : so your sweet majesty ,
+Looking awry upon your lord's departure ,
+Finds shapes of grief more than himself to wail ;
+Which , look'd on as it is , is nought but shadows
+Of what it is not . Then , thrice-gracious queen ,
+More than your lord's departure weep not : more's not seen ;
+Or if it be , 'tis with false sorrow's eye ,
+Which for things true weeps things imaginary .
+
+It may be so ; but yet my inward soul
+Persuades me it is otherwise : howe'er it be ,
+I cannot but be sad , so heavy sad ,
+As , though in thinking on no thought I think ,
+Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink .
+
+'Tis nothing but conceit , my gracious lady .
+
+'Tis nothing less : conceit is still deriv'd
+From some forefather grief ; mine is not so ,
+For nothing hath begot my something grief ;
+Or something hath the nothing that I grieve :
+'Tis in reversion that I do possess ;
+But what it is , that is not yet known ; what
+I cannot name ; 'tis nameless woe , I wot .
+
+
+God save your majesty ! and well met , gentlemen :
+I hope the king is not yet shipp'd for Ireland .
+
+Why hop'st thou so ? 'tis better hope he is ,
+For his designs crave haste , his haste good hope :
+Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not shipp'd ?
+
+That he , our hope , might have retir'd his power ,
+And driven into despair an enemy's hope ,
+Who strongly hath set footing in this land :
+The banish'd Bolingbroke repeals himself ,
+And with uplifted arms is safe arriv'd
+At Ravenspurgh .
+
+Now God in heaven forbid !
+
+Ah ! madam , 'tis too true : and that is worse ,
+The Lord Northumberland , his son young Henry Percy ,
+The Lords of Ross , Beaumond , and Willoughby ,
+With all their powerful friends , are fled to him .
+
+Why have you not proclaim'd Northumberland
+And all the rest of the revolted faction traitors ?
+
+We have : whereupon the Earl of Worcester
+Hath broke his staff , resign'd his stewardship ,
+And all the household servants fled with him
+To Bolingbroke .
+
+So , Green , thou art the midwife to my woe ,
+And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir :
+Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy ,
+And I , a gasping new-deliver'd mother ,
+Have woe to woe , sorrow to sorrow join'd .
+
+Despair not , madam .
+
+Who shall hinder me ?
+I will despair , and be at enmity
+With cozening hope : he is a flatterer ,
+A parasite , a keeper-back of death ,
+Who gently would dissolve the bands of life ,
+Which false hope lingers in extremity .
+
+
+Here comes the Duke of York .
+
+With signs of war about his aged neck :
+O ! full of careful business are his looks .
+Uncle , for God's sake , speak comfortable words .
+
+Should I do so , I should belie my thoughts :
+Comfort's in heaven ; and we are on the earth ,
+Where nothing lives but crosses , cares , and grief .
+Your husband , he is gone to save far off ,
+Whilst others come to make him lose at home :
+Here am I left to underprop his land ,
+Who , weak with age , cannot support myself .
+Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit made ;
+Now shall he try his friends that flatter'd him .
+
+
+My lord , your son was gone before I came .
+
+He was ? Why , so ! go all which way it will !
+The nobles they are fled , the commons they are cold ,
+And will , I fear , revolt on Hereford's side .
+Sirrah , get thee to Plashy , to my sister Gloucester ;
+Bid her send me presently a thousand pound .
+Hold , take my ring .
+
+My lord , I had forgot to tell your lordship :
+To-day , as I came by , I called there ;
+But I shall grieve you to report the rest .
+
+What is't , knave ?
+
+An hour before I came the duchess died .
+
+God for his mercy ! what a tide of woes
+Comes rushing on this woeful land at once !
+I know not what to do : I would to God ,
+So my untruth had not provok'd him to it ,
+The king had cut off my head with my brother's .
+What ! are there no posts dispatch'd for Ireland ?
+How shall we do for money for these wars ?
+Come , sister ,cousin , I would say ,pray , pardon me .
+Go , fellow , get thee home ; provide some carts
+And bring away the armour that is there .
+
+Gentlemen , will you go muster men ? If I know
+How or which way to order these affairs
+Thus thrust disorderly into my hands ,
+Never believe me . Both are my kinsmen :
+The one is my sovereign , whom both my oath
+And duty bids defend ; the other again
+Is my kinsman , whom the king hath wrong'd ,
+Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right .
+Well , somewhat we must do . Come , cousin ,
+I'll dispose of you . Gentlemen , go muster up your men ,
+And meet me presently at Berkeley Castle .
+I should to Plashy too :
+But time will not permit . All is uneven ,
+And every thing is left at six and seven .
+
+
+The wind sits fair for news to go to Ireland ,
+But none returns . For us to levy power
+Proportionable to the enemy
+Is all unpossible .
+
+Besides , our nearness to the king in love
+Is near the hate of those love not the king .
+
+And that's the wavering commons ; for their love
+Lies in their purses , and whoso empties them ,
+By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate .
+
+Wherein the king stands generally condemn'd .
+
+If judgment lie in them , then so do we ,
+Because we ever have been near the king .
+
+Well , I'll for refuge straight to Bristol Castle ;
+The Earl of Wiltshire is already there .
+
+Thither will I with you ; for little office
+Will the hateful commons perform for us ,
+Except like curs to tear us all to pieces .
+Will you go along with us ?
+
+No ; I will to Ireland to his majesty .
+Farewell : if heart's presages be not vain ,
+We three here part that ne'er shall meet again .
+
+That's as York thrives to beat back Bolingbroke .
+
+Alas , poor duke ! the task he undertakes
+Is numbering sands and drinking oceans dry :
+Where one on his side fights , thousands will fly .
+Farewell at once ; for once , for all , and ever .
+
+Well , we may meet again .
+
+I fear me , never .
+
+
+How far is it , my lord , to Berkeley now ?
+
+Believe me , noble lord ,
+I am a stranger here in Gloucestershire :
+These high wild hills and rough uneven ways
+Draw out our miles and make them wearisome ;
+But yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar ,
+Making the hard way sweet and delectable .
+But I bethink me what a weary way
+From Ravenspurgh to Cotswold will be found
+In Ross and Willoughby , wanting your company ,
+Which , I protest , hath very much beguil'd
+The tediousness and process of my travel :
+But theirs is sweeten'd with the hope to have
+The present benefit which I possess ;
+And hope to joy is little less in joy
+Than hope enjoy'd : by this the weary lords
+Shall make their way seem short , as mine hath done
+By sight of what I have , your noble company .
+
+Of much less value is my company
+Than your good words . But who comes here ?
+
+
+It is my son , young Harry Percy ,
+Sent from my brother Worcester , whencesoever .
+Harry , how fares your uncle ?
+
+I had thought , my lord , to have learn'd his health of you .
+
+Why , is he not with the queen ?
+
+No , my good lord ; he hath forsook the court ,
+Broken his staff of office , and dispers'd
+The household of the king .
+
+What was his reason ?
+He was not so resolv'd when last we spake together .
+
+Because your lordship was proclaimed traitor .
+But he , my lord , is gone to Ravenspurgh ,
+To offer service to the Duke of Hereford ,
+And sent me over by Berkeley to discover
+What power the Duke of York had levied there ;
+Then with direction to repair to Ravenspurgh .
+
+Have you forgot the Duke of Hereford , boy ?
+
+No , my good lord ; for that is not forgot
+Which ne'er I did remember : to my knowledge
+I never in my life did look on him .
+
+Then learn to know him now : this is the duke .
+
+My gracious lord , I tender you my service ,
+Such as it is , being tender , raw , and young ,
+Which elder days shall ripen and confirm
+To more approved service and desert .
+
+I thank thee , gentle Percy ; and be sure
+I count myself in nothing else so happy
+As in a soul remembering my good friends ;
+And as my fortune ripens with thy love ,
+It shall be still thy true love's recompense :
+My heart this covenant makes , my hand thus seals it .
+
+How far is it to Berkeley ? and what stir
+Keeps good old York there with his men of war ?
+
+There stands the castle , by yon tuft of trees ,
+Mann'd with three hundred men , as I have heard ;
+And in it are the Lords of York , Berkeley , and Seymour ;
+None else of name and noble estimate .
+
+
+Here come the Lords of Ross and Willoughby ,
+Bloody with spurring , fiery-red with haste .
+
+Welcome , my lords . I wot your love pursues
+A banish'd traitor ; all my treasury
+Is yet but unfelt thanks , which , more enrich'd ,
+Shall be your love and labour's recompense .
+
+Your presence makes us rich , most noble lord .
+
+And far surmounts our labour to attain it .
+
+Evermore thanks , the exchequer of the poor ;
+Which , till my infant fortune comes to years ,
+Stands for my bounty . But who comes here ?
+
+
+It is my Lord of Berkeley , as I guess .
+
+My lord of Hereford , my message is to you .
+
+My lord , my answer is to Lancaster ;
+And I am come to seek that name in England ;
+And I must find that title in your tongue
+Before I make reply to aught you say .
+
+Mistake me not , my lord ; 'tis not my meaning
+To raze one title of your honour out :
+To you , my lord , I come , what lord you will ,
+From the most gracious regent of this land ,
+The Duke of York , to know what pricks you on
+To take advantage of the absent time
+And fright our native peace with self-born arms .
+
+
+I shall not need transport my words by you :
+Here comes his Grace in person .
+My noble uncle !
+
+
+Show me thy humble heart , and not thy knee ,
+Whose duty is deceivable and false .
+
+My gracious uncle
+
+Tut , tut !
+Grace me no grace , nor uncle me no uncle :
+I am no traitor's uncle ; and that word 'grace'
+In an ungracious mouth is but profane .
+Why have those banish'd and forbidden legs
+Dar'd once to touch a dust of England's ground ?
+But then , more 'why ?' why have they dar'd to march
+So many miles upon her peaceful bosom ,
+Frighting her pale-fac'd villages with war
+And ostentation of despised arms ?
+Com'st thou because the anointed king is hence ?
+Why , foolish boy , the king is left behind ,
+And in my loyal bosom lies his power .
+Were I but now the lord of such hot youth
+As when brave Gaunt thy father , and myself ,
+Rescu'd the Black Prince , that young Mars of men ,
+From forth the ranks of many thousand French ,
+O ! then , how quickly should this arm of mine ,
+Now prisoner to the palsy , chastise thee
+And minister correction to thy fault !
+
+My gracious uncle , let me know my fault :
+On what condition stands it and wherein ?
+
+Even in condition of the worst degree ,
+In gross rebellion and detested treason :
+Thou art a banish'd man , and here art come
+Before the expiration of thy time ,
+In braving arms against thy sovereign .
+
+As I was banish'd , I was banish'd Hereford ;
+But as I come , I come for Lancaster .
+And , noble uncle , I beseech your Grace
+Look on my wrongs with an indifferent eye :
+You are my father , for methinks in you
+I see old Gaunt alive : O ! then , my father ,
+Will you permit that I shall stand condemn'd
+A wandering vagabond ; my rights and royalties
+Pluck'd from my arms perforce and given away
+To upstart unthrifts ? Wherefore was I born ?
+If that my cousin king be King of England ,
+It must be granted I am Duke of Lancaster .
+You have a son , Aumerle , my noble kinsman ;
+Had you first died , and he been thus trod down ,
+He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father ,
+To rouse his wrongs and chase them to the bay .
+I am denied to sue my livery here ,
+And yet my letters-patent give me leave :
+My father's goods are all distrain'd and sold ,
+And these and all are all amiss employ'd .
+What would you have me do ? I am a subject ,
+And challenge law : attorneys are denied me ,
+And therefore personally I lay my claim
+To my inheritance of free descent .
+
+The noble duke hath been too much abus'd .
+
+It stands your Grace upon to do him right .
+
+Base men by his endowments are made great .
+
+My lords of England , let me tell you this :
+I have had feeling of my cousin's wrongs ,
+And labour'd all I could to do him right ;
+But in this kind to come , in braving arms ,
+Be his own carver and cut out his way ,
+To find out right with wrong , it may not be ;
+And you that do abet him in this kind
+Cherish rebellion and are rebels all .
+
+The noble duke hath sworn his coming is
+But for his own ; and for the right of that
+We all have strongly sworn to give him aid ;
+And let him ne'er see joy that breaks that oath !
+
+Well , well , I see the issue of these arms :
+I cannot mend it , I must needs confess ,
+Because my power is weak and all ill left ;
+But if I could , by him that gave me life ,
+I would attach you all and make you stoop
+Unto the sovereign mercy of the king ;
+But since I cannot , be it known to you
+I do remain as neuter . So , fare you well ;
+Unless you please to enter in the castle
+And there repose you for this night .
+
+An offer , uncle , that we will accept :
+But we must win your Grace to go with us
+To Bristol Castle ; which they say is held
+By Bushy , Bagot , and their complices ,
+The caterpillars of the commonwealth ,
+Which I have sworn to weed and pluck away .
+
+It may be I will go with you ; but yet I'll pause ;
+For I am loath to break our country's laws .
+Nor friends nor foes , to me welcome you are :
+Things past redress are now with me past care .
+
+
+My Lord of Salisbury , we have stay'd ten days ,
+And hardly kept our countrymen together ,
+And yet we hear no tidings from the king ;
+Therefore we will disperse ourselves : farewell .
+
+Stay yet another day , thou trusty Welshman :
+The king reposeth all his confidence in thee .
+
+'Tis thought the king is dead : we will not stay .
+The bay-trees in our country are all wither'd
+And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven ,
+The pale-fac'd moon looks bloody on the earth
+And lean-look'd prophets whisper fearful change ,
+Rich men look sad and ruffians dance and leap ,
+The one in fear to lose what they enjoy ,
+The other to enjoy by rage and war :
+These signs forerun the death or fall of kings .
+Farewell : our countrymen are gone and fled ,
+As well assur'd Richard their king is dead .
+
+
+Ah , Richard ! with the eyes of heavy mind
+I see thy glory like a shooting star
+Fall to the base earth from the firmament .
+Thy sun sets weeping in the lowly west ,
+Witnessing storms to come , woe , and unrest .
+Thy friends are fled to wait upon thy foes ,
+And crossly to thy good all fortune goes .
+
+
+Bring forth these men .
+Bushy and Green , I will not vex your souls
+Since presently your souls must part your bodies
+With too much urging your pernicious lives ,
+For 'twere no charity ; yet , to wash your blood
+From off my hands , here in the view of men
+I will unfold some causes of your deaths .
+You have misled a prince , a royal king ,
+A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments ,
+By you unhappied and disfigur'd clean :
+You have in manner with your sinful hours
+Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him ,
+Broke the possession of a royal bed ,
+And stain'd the beauty of a fair queen's cheeks
+With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul wrongs .
+Myself , a prince by fortune of my birth ,
+Near to the king in blood , and near in love
+Till you did make him misinterpret me ,
+Have stoop'd my neck under your injuries ,
+And sigh'd my English breath in foreign clouds ,
+Eating the bitter bread of banishment ;
+Whilst you have fed upon my signories ,
+Dispark'd my parks , and felled my forest woods ,
+From mine own windows torn my household coat ,
+Raz'd out my impress , leaving me no sign ,
+Save men's opinions and my living blood ,
+To show the world I am a gentleman .
+This and much more , much more than twice all this ,
+Condemns you to the death . See them deliver'd over
+To execution and the hand of death .
+
+More welcome is the stroke of death to me
+Than Bolingbroke to England . Lords , farewell .
+
+My comfort is , that heaven will take our souls
+And plague injustice with the pains of hell .
+
+My Lord Northumberland , see them dispatch'd .
+
+Uncle , you say the queen is at your house ;
+For God's sake , fairly let her be entreated :
+Tell her I send to her my kind commends ;
+Take special care my greetings be deliver'd .
+
+A gentleman of mine I have dispatch'd
+With letters of your love to her at large .
+
+Thanks , gentle uncle . Come , lords , away ,
+To fight with Glendower and his complices :
+Awhile to work , and after holiday .
+
+
+Barkloughly Castle call they this at hand ?
+
+Yea , my lord . How brooks your Grace the air ,
+After your late tossing on the breaking seas ?
+
+Needs must I like it well : I weep for joy
+To stand upon my kingdom once again .
+Dear earth , I do salute thee with my hand ,
+Though rebels wound thee with their horses' hoofs :
+As a long-parted mother with her child
+Plays fondly with her tears and smiles in meeting ,
+So , weeping , smiling , greet I thee , my earth ,
+And do thee favour with my royal hands .
+Feed not thy sovereign's foe , my gentle earth ,
+Nor with thy sweets comfort his revenous sense ;
+But let thy spiders , that suck up thy venom ,
+And heavy-gaited toads lie in their way ,
+Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet
+Which with usurping steps do trample thee .
+Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies ;
+And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower ,
+Guard it , I pray thee , with a lurking adder
+Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch
+Throw death upon thy sovereign's enemies .
+Mock not my senseless conjuration , lords :
+This earth shall have a feeling and these stones
+Prove armed soldiers , ere her native king
+Shall falter under foul rebellion's arms .
+
+Fear not , my lord : that power that made you king
+Hath power to keep you king in spite of all .
+The means that heaven yields must be embrac'd ,
+And not neglected ; else , if heaven would ,
+And we will not , heaven's offer we refuse ,
+The proffer'd means of succour and redress .
+
+He means , my lord , that we are too remiss ;
+Whilst Bolingbroke , through our security ,
+Grows strong and great in substance and in friends .
+
+Discomfortable cousin ! know'st thou not
+That when the searching eye of heaven is hid
+Behind the globe , and lights the lower world ,
+Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen ,
+In murders and in outrage bloody here ;
+But when , from under this terrestrial ball
+He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines
+And darts his light through every guilty hole ,
+Then murders , treasons , and detested sins ,
+The cloak of night being pluck'd from off their backs ,
+Stand bare and naked , trembling at themselves ?
+So when this thief , this traitor , Bolingbroke ,
+Who all this while hath revell'd in the night
+Whilst we were wandering with the antipodes ,
+Shall see us rising in our throne , the east ,
+His treasons will sit blushing in his face ,
+Not able to endure the sight of day ,
+But self-affrighted tremble at his sin .
+Not all the water in the rough rude sea
+Can wash the balm from an anointed king ;
+The breath of worldly men cannot depose
+The deputy elected by the Lord .
+For every man that Bolingbroke hath press'd
+To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown ,
+God for his Richard hath in heavenly pay
+A glorious angel : then , if angels fight ,
+Weak men must fall , for heaven still guards the right .
+
+Welcome , my lord : how far off lies your power ?
+
+Nor near nor further off , my gracious lord ,
+Than this weak arm : discomfort guides my tongue
+And bids me speak of nothing but despair .
+One day too late , I fear me , noble lord ,
+Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth .
+O ! call back yesterday , bid time return ,
+And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting men :
+To-day , to-day , unhappy day too late ,
+O'erthrows thy joys , friends , fortune , and thy state ;
+For all the Welshmen , hearing thou wert dead ,
+Are gone to Bolingbroke , dispers'd , and fled .
+
+Comfort , my liege ! why looks your Grace so pale ?
+
+But now , the blood of twenty thousand men
+Did triumph in my face , and they are fled ;
+And till so much blood thither come again
+Have I not reason to look pale and dead ?
+All souls that will be safe , fly from my side ;
+For time hath set a blot upon my pride .
+
+Comfort , my liege ! remember who you are .
+
+I had forgot myself . Am I not king ?
+Awake , thou sluggard majesty ! thou sleepest .
+Is not the king's name twenty thousand names ?
+Arm , arm , my name ! a puny subject strikes
+At thy great glory . Look not to the ground ,
+Ye favourites of a king : are we not high ?
+High be our thoughts : I know my uncle York
+Hath power enough to serve our turn . But who comes here ?
+
+
+More health and happiness betide my liege
+Than can my care-tun'd tongue deliver him !
+
+Mine ear is open and my heart prepar'd :
+The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold .
+Say , is my kingdom lost ? why , 'twas my care ;
+And what loss is it to be rid of care ?
+Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we ?
+Greater he shall not be : if he serve God
+We'll serve him too , and be his fellow so :
+Revolt our subjects ? that we cannot mend ;
+They break their faith to God as well as us :
+Cry woe , destruction , ruin , loss , decay ;
+The worst is death , and death will have his day .
+
+Glad am I that your highness is so arm'd
+To bear the tidings of calamity .
+Like an unseasonable stormy day
+Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores ,
+As if the world were all dissolv'd to tears ,
+So high above his limits swells the rage
+Of Bolingbroke , covering your fearful land
+With hard bright steel and hearts harder than steel .
+White-beards have arm'd their thin and hairless scalps
+Against thy majesty ; and boys , with women's voices ,
+Strive to speak big , and clap their female joints
+In stiff unwieldy arms against thy crown ;
+Thy very beadsmen learn to bend their bows
+Of double-fatal yew against thy state ;
+Yea , distaff-women manage rusty bills
+Against thy seat : both young and old rebel ,
+And all goes worse than I have power to tell .
+
+Too well , too well thou tell'st a tale so ill .
+Where is the Earl of Wiltshire ? where is Bagot ?
+What is become of Bushy ? where is Green ?
+That they have let the dangerous enemy
+Measure our confines with such peaceful steps ?
+If we prevail , their heads shall pay for it .
+I warrant they have made peace with Bolingbroke .
+
+Peace have they made with him , indeed , my lord .
+
+O villains , vipers , damn'd without redemption !
+Dogs , easily won to fawn on any man !
+Snakes , in my heart-blood warm'd , that sting my heart !
+Three Judases , each one thrice worse than Judas !
+Would they make peace ? terrible hell make war
+Upon their spotted souls for this offence !
+
+Sweet love , I see , changing his property ,
+Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate .
+Again uncurse their souls ; their peace is made
+With heads and not with hands : those whom you curse
+Have felt the worst of death's destroying wound
+And lie full low , grav'd in the hollow ground .
+
+Is Bushy , Green , and the Earl of Wiltshire dead ?
+
+Yea , all of them at Bristol lost their heads .
+
+Where is the duke my father with his power ?
+
+No matter where . Of comfort no man speak :
+Let's talk of graves , of worms , and epitaphs ;
+Make dust our paper , and with rainy eyes
+Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth ;
+Let's choose executors and talk of wills :
+And yet not so for what can we bequeath
+Save our deposed bodies to the ground ?
+Our lands , our lives , and all are Bolingbroke's ,
+And nothing can we call our own but death ,
+And that small model of the barren earth
+Which serves as paste and cover to our bones .
+For God's sake , let us sit upon the ground
+And tell sad stories of the death of kings :
+How some have been depos'd , some slain in war ,
+Some haunted by the ghosts they have depos'd ,
+Some poison'd by their wives , some sleeping kill'd ;
+All murder'd : for within the hollow crown
+That rounds the mortal temples of a king
+Keeps Death his court , and there the antick sits ,
+Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp ;
+Allowing him a breath , a little scene ,
+To monarchize , be fear'd , and kill with looks ,
+Infusing him with self and vain conceit
+As if this flesh which walls about our life
+Were brass impregnable ; and humour'd thus
+Comes at the last , and with a little pin
+Bores through his castle wall , and farewell king !
+Cover your heads , and mock not flesh and blood
+With solemn reverence : throw away respect ,
+Tradition , form , and ceremonious duty ,
+For you have but mistook me all this while :
+I live with bread like you , feel want ,
+Taste grief , need friends : subjected thus ,
+How can you say to me I am a king ?
+
+My lord , wise men ne'er sit and wail their woes ,
+But presently prevent the ways to wail .
+To fear the foe , since fear oppresseth strength ,
+Gives in your weakness strength unto your foe ,
+And so your follies fight against yourself .
+Fear and be slain ; no worse can come to fight :
+And fight and die is death destroying death ;
+Where fearing dying pays death servile breath .
+
+My father hath a power ; inquire of him
+And learn to make a body of a limb .
+
+Thou chid'st me well . Proud Boling broke , I come
+To change blows with thee for our day of doom .
+This ague-fit of fear is over-blown ;
+An easy task it is , to win our own .
+Say , Scroop , where lies our uncle with his power ?
+Speak sweetly , man , although thy looks be sour .
+
+Men judge by the complexion of the sky
+The state and inclination of the day ;
+So may you by my dull and heavy eye ,
+My tongue hath but a heavier tale to say .
+I play the torturer , by small and small
+To lengthen out the worst that must be spoken .
+Your uncle York is join'd with Bolingbroke ,
+And all your northern castles yielded up ,
+And all your southern gentlemen in arms
+Upon his party .
+
+Thou hast said enough .
+
+
+Beshrew thee , cousin , which didst lead me forth
+Of that sweet way I was in to despair !
+What say you now ? What comfort have we now ?
+By heaven , I'll hate him everlastingly
+That bids me be of comfort any more .
+Go to Flint Castle : there I'll pine away ;
+A king , woe's slave , shall kingly woe obey .
+That power I have , discharge ; and let them go
+To ear the land that hath some hope to grow ,
+For I have none : let no man speak again
+To alter this , for counsel is but vain .
+
+My liege , one word .
+
+He does me double wrong ,
+That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue .
+Discharge my followers : let them hence away ,
+From Richard's night to Bolingbroke's fair day .
+
+
+So that by this intelligence we learn
+The Welshmen are dispers'd and Salisbury
+Is gone to meet the king , who lately landed
+With some few private friends upon this coast .
+
+The news is very fair and good , my lord :
+Richard not far from hence hath hid his head .
+
+It would beseem the Lord Northumberland
+To say , 'King Richard :' alack the heavy day
+When such a sacred king should hide his head !
+
+Your Grace mistakes ; only to be brief
+Left I his title out .
+
+The time hath been ,
+Would you have been so brief with him , he would
+Have been so brief with you , to shorten you ,
+For taking so the head , your whole head's length .
+
+Mistake not , uncle , further than you should .
+
+Take not , good cousin , further than you should ,
+Lest you mistake the heavens are o'er our heads .
+
+I know it , uncle ; and oppose not myself
+Against their will . But who comes here ?
+
+Welcome , Harry : what , will not this castle yield ?
+
+The castle royally is mann'd , my lord ,
+Against thy entrance .
+
+Royally !
+Why , it contains no king ?
+
+Yes , my good lord ,
+It doth contain a king : King Richard lies
+Within the limits of yon lime and stone ;
+And with him are the Lord Aumerle , Lord Salisbury ,
+Sir Stephen Scroop ; besides a clergyman
+Of holy reverence ; who , I cannot learn .
+
+O ! belike it is the Bishop of Carlisle .
+
+Noble lord ,
+Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle ,
+Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parley
+Into his ruin'd ears , and thus deliver :
+Henry Bolingbroke
+On both his knees doth kiss King Richard's hand ,
+And sends allegiance and true faith of heart
+To his most royal person ; hither come
+Even at his feet to lay my arms and power ,
+Provided that my banishment repeal'd ,
+And lands restor'd again be freely granted .
+If not , I'll use the advantage of my power ,
+And lay the summer's dust with showers of blood
+Rain'd from the wounds of slaughter'd Englishmen :
+The which , how far off from the mind of Bolingbroke
+It is , such crimson tempest should bedrench
+The fresh green lap of fair King Richard's land ,
+My stooping duty tenderly shall show .
+Go , signify as much , while here we march
+Upon the grassy carpet of this plain .
+Let's march without the noise of threat'ning drum ,
+That from the castle's totter'd battlements
+Our fair appointments may be well perus'd .
+Methinks King Richard and myself should meet
+With no less terror than the elements
+Of fire and water , when their thundering shock
+At meeting tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven .
+Be he the fire , I'll be the yielding water :
+The rage be his , while on the earth I rain
+My waters ; on the earth , and not on him .
+March on , and mark King Richard how he looks .
+
+
+See , see , King Richard doth himself appear ,
+As doth the blushing discontented sun
+From out the fiery portal of the east ,
+When he perceives the envious clouds are bent
+To dim his glory and to stain the track
+Of his bright passage to the occident .
+
+Yet looks he like a king : behold , his eye ,
+As bright as is the eagle's , lightens forth
+Controlling majesty : alack , alack , for woe ,
+That any harm should stain so fair a show !
+
+We are amaz'd ; and thus long have we stood
+To watch the fearful bending of thy knee ,
+Because we thought ourself thy lawful king :
+And if we be , how dare thy joints forget
+To pay their awful duty to our presence ?
+If we be not , show us the hand of God
+That hath dismiss'd us from our stewardship ;
+For well we know , no hand of blood and bone
+Can gripe the sacred handle of our sceptre ,
+Unless he do profane , steal , or usurp .
+And though you think that all , as you have done ,
+Have torn their souls by turning them from us ,
+And we are barren and bereft of friends ;
+Yet know , my master , God omnipotent ,
+Is mustering in his clouds on our behalf
+Armies of pestilence ; and they shall strike
+Your children yet unborn and unbegot ,
+That lift your vassal hands against my head
+And threat the glory of my precious crown .
+Tell Bolingbroke ,for yond methinks he is ,
+That every stride he makes upon my land
+Is dangerous treason : he is come to open
+The purple testament of bleeding war ;
+But ere the crown he looks for live in peace ,
+Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers' sons
+Shall ill become the flower of England's face ,
+Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace
+To scarlet indignation , and bedew
+Her pastures' grass with faithful English blood .
+
+The king of heaven forbid our lord the king
+Should so with civil and uncivil arms
+Be rush'd upon ! Thy thrice-noble cousin ,
+Harry Bolingbroke , doth humbly kiss thy hand ;
+And by the honourable tomb he swears ,
+That stands upon your royal grandsire's bones ,
+And by the royalties of both your bloods ,
+Currents that spring from one most gracious head ,
+And by the buried hand of war-like Gaunt ,
+And by the worth and honour of himself ,
+Comprising all that may be sworn or said ,
+His coming hither hath no further scope
+Than for his lineal royalties and to beg
+Enfranchisement immediate on his knees :
+Which on thy royal party granted once ,
+His glittering arms he will commend to rust ,
+His barbed steeds to stables , and his heart
+To faithful service of your majesty .
+This swears he , as he is a prince , is just ;
+And , as I am a gentleman , I credit him .
+
+Northumberland , say , thus the king returns :
+His noble cousin is right welcome hither ;
+And all the number of his fair demands
+Shall be accomplish'd without contradiction :
+With all the gracious utterance thou hast
+Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends .
+
+We do debase ourself , cousin , do we not ,
+To look so poorly and to speak so fair ?
+Shall we call back Northumberland and send
+Defiance to the traitor , and so die ?
+
+No , good my lord ; let's fight with gentle words ,
+Till time lend friends and friends their helpful swords .
+
+O God ! O God ! that e'er this tongue of mine ,
+That laid the sentence of dread banishment
+On yond proud man , should take it off again
+With words of sooth . O ! that I were as great
+As is my grief , or lesser than my name ,
+Or that I could forget what I have been ,
+Or not remember what I must be now .
+Swell'st thou , proud heart ? I'll give thee scope to beat ,
+Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me .
+
+Northumberland comes back from Bolingbroke .
+
+What must the king do now ? Must he submit ?
+The king shall do it : must he be depos'd ?
+The king shall be contented : must he lose
+The name of king ? o' God's name , let it go :
+I'll give my jewels for a set of beads ,
+My gorgeous palace for a hermitage ,
+My gay apparel for an almsman's gown ,
+My figur'd goblets for a dish of wood ,
+My sceptre for a palmer's walking-staff ,
+My subjects for a pair of carved saints ,
+And my large kingdom for a little grave ,
+A little little grave , an obscure grave ;
+Or I'll be buried in the king's highway ,
+Some way of common trade , where subjects' feet
+May hourly trample on their sovereign's head ;
+For on my heart they tread now whilst I live ;
+And buried once , why not upon my head ?
+Aumerle , thou weep'st , my tender-hearted cousin !
+We'll make foul weather with despised tears ;
+Our sighs and they shall lodge the summer corn ,
+And make a dearth in this revolting land .
+Or shall we play the wantons with our woes ,
+And make some pretty match with shedding tears ?
+As thus ; to drop them still upon one place ,
+Till they have fretted us a pair of graves
+Within the earth ; and , there inlaid : 'There lies
+Two kinsmen digg'd their graves with weeping eyes .'
+Would not this ill do well ? Well , well , I see
+I talk but idly and you laugh at me .
+Most mighty prince , my Lord Northumberland ,
+What says King Bolingbroke ? will his majesty
+Give Richard leave to live till Richard die ?
+You make a leg , and Bolingbroke says ay .
+
+My lord , in the base court he doth attend
+To speak with you ; may't please you to come down ?
+
+Down , down , I come ; like glistering Phaethon ,
+Wanting the manage of unruly jades .
+In the base court ? Base court , where kings grow base ,
+To come at traitors' calls and do them grace .
+In the base court ? Come down ? Down , court ! down , king !
+For night-owls shriek where mounting larks should sing .
+
+
+What says his majesty ?
+
+Sorrow and grief of heart
+Makes him speak fondly , like a frantic man :
+Yet he is come .
+
+
+Stand all apart ,
+And show fair duty to his majesty .
+
+My gracious lord ,
+
+Fair cousin , you debase your princely knee
+To make the base earth proud with kissing it :
+Me rather had my heart might feel your love
+Than my unpleas'd eye see your courtesy .
+Up , cousin , up ; your heart is up , I know ,
+Thus high at least , although your knee be low .
+
+My gracious lord , I come but for mine own .
+
+Your own is yours , and I am yours , and all .
+
+So far be mine , my most redoubted lord ,
+As my true service shall deserve your love .
+
+Well you deserve : they well deserve to have
+That know the strong'st and surest way to get .
+Uncle , give me your hand : nay , dry your eyes ;
+Tears show their love , but want their remedies .
+Cousin , I am too young to be your father ,
+Though you are old enough to be my heir .
+What you will have I'll give , and willing too ;
+For do we must what force will have us do .
+Set on towards London . Cousin , is it so ?
+
+Yea , my good lord .
+
+Then I must not say no .
+
+
+What sport shall we devise here in this garden ,
+To drive away the heavy thought of care ?
+
+Madam , we'll play at bowls .
+
+'Twill make me think the world is full of rubs ;
+And that my fortune runs against the bias .
+
+Madam , we'll dance .
+
+My legs can keep no measure in delight
+When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief :
+Therefore , no dancing , girl ; some other sport .
+
+Madam , we'll tell tales .
+
+Of sorrow or of joy ?
+
+Of either , madam .
+
+Of neither , girl :
+For if of joy , being altogether wanting ,
+It doth remember me the more of sorrow ;
+Or if of grief , being altogether had ,
+It adds more sorrow to my want of joy :
+For what I have I need not to repeat ,
+And what I want it boots not to complain .
+
+Madam , I'll sing .
+
+'Tis well that thou hast cause ;
+But thou shouldst please me better wouldst thou weep .
+
+I could weep , madam , would it do you good .
+
+And I could sing would weeping do me good ,
+And never borrow any tear of thee .
+But stay , here come the gardeners :
+Let's step into the shadow of these trees .
+My wretchedness unto a row of pins ,
+They'll talk of state ; for every one doth so
+Against a change : woe is forerun with woe .
+
+Go , bind thou up yon dangling apricocks ,
+Which , like unruly children , make their sire
+Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight :
+Give some supportance to the bending twigs .
+Go thou , and like an executioner ,
+Cut off the heads of too fast growing sprays ,
+That look too lofty in our commonwealth :
+All must be even in our government .
+You thus employ'd , I will go root away
+The noisome weeds , that without profit suck
+The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers .
+
+Why should we in the compass of a pale
+Keep law and form and due proportion ,
+Showing , as in a model , our firm estate ,
+When our sea-walled garden , the whole land ,
+Is full of weeds , her fairest flowers chok'd up ,
+Her fruit-trees all unprun'd , her hedges ruin'd ,
+Her knots disorder'd , and her wholesome herbs
+Swarming with caterpillars ?
+
+Hold thy peace :
+He that hath suffer'd this disorder'd spring
+Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf ;
+The weeds that his broad-spreading leaves did shelter ,
+That seem'd in eating him to hold him up ,
+Are pluck'd up root and all by Bolingbroke ;
+I mean the Earl of Wiltshire , Bushy , Green .
+
+What ! are they dead ?
+
+They are ; and Bolingbroke
+Hath seiz'd the wasteful king . O ! what pity is it
+That he hath not so trimm'd and dress'd his land
+As we this garden . We at time of year
+Do wound the bark , the skin of our fruit-trees ,
+Lest , being over-proud with sap and blood ,
+With too much riches it confound itself :
+Had he done so to great and growing men ,
+They might have liv'd to bear and he to taste
+Their fruits of duty : superfluous branches
+We lop away that bearing boughs may live :
+Had he done so , himself had borne the crown ,
+Which waste of idle hours hath quite thrown down .
+
+What ! think you then the king shall be depos'd ?
+
+Depress'd he is already , and depos'd
+'Tis doubt he will be : letters came last night
+To a dear friend of the good Duke of York's ,
+That tell black tidings .
+
+O ! I am press'd to death through want of speaking .
+
+Thou , old Adam's likeness , set to dress this garden ,
+How dares thy harsh rude tongue sound this unpleasing news ?
+What Eve , what serpent , hath suggested thee
+To make a second fall of cursed man ?
+Why dost thou say King Richard is depos'd ?
+Dar'st thou , thou little better thing than earth ,
+Divine his downfall ? Say , where , when , and how
+Cam'st thou by these ill tidings ? speak , thou wretch .
+
+Pardon me , madam : little joy have I
+To breathe these news , yet what I say is true .
+King Richard , he is in the mighty hold
+Of Bolingbroke ; their fortunes both are weigh'd :
+In your lord's scale is nothing but himself ,
+And some few vanities that make him light ;
+But in the balance of great Bolingbroke ,
+Besides himself , are all the English peers ,
+And with that odds he weighs King Richard down .
+Post you to London and you'll find it so ;
+I speak no more than every one doth know .
+
+Nimble mischance . that art so light of foot ,
+Doth not thy embassage belong to me ,
+And am I last that knows it ? O ! thou think'st
+To serve me last , that I may longest keep
+Thy sorrow in my breast . Come , ladies , go ,
+To meet at London London's king in woe .
+What ! was I born to this , that my sad look
+Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke ?
+Gardener , for telling me these news of woe ,
+Pray God the plants thou graft'st may never grow .
+
+
+Poor queen ! so that thy state might be no worse ,
+I would my skill were subject to thy curse .
+Here did she fall a tear ; here , in this place ,
+I'll set a bank of rue , sour herb of grace ;
+Rue , even for ruth , here shortly shall be seen ,
+In the remembrance of a weeping queen .
+
+Call forth Bagot .
+Now , Bagot , freely speak thy mind ;
+What thou dost know of noble Gloucester's death ,
+Who wrought it with the king , and who perform'd
+The bloody office of his timeless end .
+
+Then set before my face the Lord Aumerle .
+
+Cousin , stand forth , and look upon that man .
+
+My Lord Aumerle , I know your daring tongue
+Scorns to unsay what once it hath deliver'd .
+In that dead time when Gloucester's death was plotted ,
+I heard you say , 'Is not my arm of length ,
+That reacheth from the restful English court
+As far as Calais , to my uncle's head ?'
+Amongst much other talk , that very time ,
+I heard you say that you had rather refuse
+The offer of a hundred thousand crowns
+Than Bolingbroke's return to England ;
+Adding withal , how blest this land would be
+In this your cousin's death .
+
+Princes and noble lords ,
+What answer shall I make to this base man ?
+Shall I so much dishonour my fair stars ,
+On equal terms to give him chastisement ?
+Either I must , or have mine honour soil'd
+With the attainder of his slanderous lips .
+There is my gage , the manual seal of death ,
+That marks thee out for hell : I say thou liest ,
+And will maintain what thou hast said is false
+In thy heart-blood , though being all too base
+To stain the temper of my knightly sword .
+
+Bagot , forbear ; thou shalt not take it up .
+
+Excepting one , I would he were the best
+In all this presence that hath mov'd me so .
+
+If that thy valour stand on sympathies ,
+There is my gage , Aumerle , in gage to thine :
+By that fair sun which shows me where thou stand'st ,
+I heard thee say , and vauntingly thou spak'st it ,
+That thou wert cause of noble Gloucester's death .
+If thou deny'st it twenty times , thou liest ;
+And I will turn thy falsehood to thy heart ,
+Where it was forged , with my rapier's point .
+
+Thou dar'st not , coward , live to see that day .
+
+Now , by my soul , I would it were this hour .
+
+Fitzwater , thou art damn'd to hell for this .
+
+Aumerle , thou liest ; his honour is as true
+In this appeal as thou art all unjust ;
+And that thou art so , there I throw my gage ,
+To prove it on thee to the extremest point
+Of mortal breathing : seize it if thou dar'st .
+
+And if I do not may my hands rot off
+And never brandish more revengeful steel
+Over the glittering helmet of my foe !
+
+I task the earth to the like , forsworn Aumerle ;
+And spur thee on with full as many lies
+As may be holla'd in thy treacherous ear
+From sun to sun : there is my honour's pawn ;
+Engage it to the trial if thou dar'st .
+
+Who sets me else ? by heaven , I'll throw at all :
+I have a thousand spirits in one breast ,
+To answer twenty thousand such as you .
+
+My Lord Fitzwater , I do remember well
+The very time Aumerle and you did talk .
+
+'Tis very true : you were in presence then ;
+And you can witness with me this is true .
+
+As false , by heaven , as heaven itself is true .
+
+Surrey , thou best .
+
+Dishonourable boy !
+That he shall lie so heavy on my sword
+That it shall render vengeance and revenge ,
+Till thou the lie-giver and that lie do lie
+In earth as quiet as thy father's skull .
+In proof whereof , there is my honour's pawn :
+Engage it to the trial if thou dar'st .
+
+How fondly dost thou spur a forward horse !
+If I dare eat , or drink , or breathe , or live ,
+I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness ,
+And spit upon him , whilst I say he lies ,
+And lies , and lies : there is my bond of faith
+To tie thee to my strong correction .
+As I intend to thrive in this new world ,
+Aumerle is guilty of my true appeal :
+Besides , I heard the banish'd Norfolk say
+That thou , Aumerle , didst send two of thy men
+To execute the noble duke at Calais .
+
+Some honest Christian trust me with a gage .
+That Norfolk lies , here do I throw down this ,
+If he may be repeal'd to try his honour .
+
+These differences shall all rest under gage
+Till Norfolk be repeal'd : repeal'd he shall be ,
+And though mine enemy , restor'd again
+To all his lands and signories ; when he's return'd ,
+Against Aumerle we will enforce his trial .
+
+That honourable day shall ne'er be seen .
+Many a time hath banish'd Norfolk fought
+For Jesu Christ in glorious Christian field ,
+Streaming the ensign of the Christian cross
+Against black pagans , Turks , and Saracens ;
+And toil'd with works of war , retir'd himself
+To Italy ; and there at Venice gave
+His body to that pleasant country's earth ,
+And his pure soul unto his captain Christ ,
+Under whose colours he had fought so long .
+
+Why , bishop , is Norfolk dead ?
+
+As surely as I live , my lord .
+
+Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul to the bosom
+Of good old Abraham ! Lords appellants ,
+Your differences shall all rest under gage
+Till we assign you to your days of trial .
+
+
+Great Duke of Lancaster , I come to thee
+From plume-pluck'd Richard ; who with willing soul
+Adopts thee heir , and his high sceptre yields
+To the possession of thy royal hand .
+Ascend his throne , descending now from him ;
+And long live Henry , of that name the fourth !
+
+In God's name , I'll ascend the regal throne .
+
+Marry , God forbid !
+Worst in this royal presence may I speak ,
+Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth .
+Would God that any in this noble presence
+Were enough noble to be upright judge
+Of noble Richard ! then , true noblesse would
+Learn him forbearance from so foul a wrong .
+What subject can give sentence on his king ?
+And who sits here that is not Richard's subject ?
+Thieves are not judg'd but they are by to hear ,
+Although apparent guilt be seen in them ;
+And shall the figure of God's majesty ,
+His captain , steward , deputy elect ,
+Anointed , crowned , planted many years ,
+Be judg'd by subject and inferior breath ,
+And he himself not present ? O ! forfend it , God ,
+That in a Christian climate souls refin'd
+Should show so heinous , black , obscene a deed .
+I speak to subjects , and a subject speaks ,
+Stirr'd up by God thus boldly for his king .
+My Lord of Hereford here , whom you call king ,
+Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford's king ;
+And if you crown him , let me prophesy ,
+The blood of English shall manure the ground
+And future ages groan for this foul act ;
+Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels ,
+And in this seat of peace tumultuous wars
+Shall kin with kin and kind with kind confound ;
+Disorder , horror , fear and mutiny
+Shall here inhabit , and this land be call'd
+The field of Golgotha and dead men's skulls .
+O ! if you rear this house against this house ,
+It will the woefullest division prove
+That ever fell upon this cursed earth .
+Prevent it , resist it , let it not be so ,
+Lest child , child's children , cry against you 'woe !'
+
+Well have you argu'd , sir ; and , for your pains ,
+Of capital treason we arrest you here .
+My Lord of Westminster , be it your charge
+To keep him safely till his day of trial .
+May it please you , lords , to grant the commons' suit ?
+
+Fetch hither Richard , that in common view
+He may surrender ; so we shall proceed
+Without suspicion .
+
+I will be his conduct .
+
+
+Lords , you that here are under our arrest ,
+Procure your sureties for your days of answer .
+
+
+Little are we beholding to your love ,
+And little look'd for at your helping hands .
+
+
+Alack ! why am I sent for to a king
+Before I have shook off the regal thoughts
+Wherewith I reign'd ? I hardly yet have learn'd
+To insinuate , flatter , bow , and bend my limbs :
+Give sorrow leave awhile to tutor me
+To this submission . Yet I well remember
+The favours of these men : were they not mine ?
+Did they not sometime cry , 'All haill' to me ?
+So Judas did to Christ : but he , in twelve ,
+Found truth in all but one ; I , in twelve thousand , none .
+God save the king ! Will no man say , amen ?
+Am I both priest and clerk ? well then , amen .
+God save the king ! although I be not he ;
+And yet , amen , if heaven do think him me .
+To do what service am I sent for hither ?
+
+To do that office of thine own good will
+Which tired majesty did make thee offer ,
+The resignation of thy state and crown
+To Henry Bolingbroke .
+
+Give me the crown . Here , cousin , seize the crown ;
+Here cousin ,
+On this side my hand and on that side thine .
+Now is this golden crown like a deep well
+That owes two buckets filling one another ;
+The emptier ever dancing in the air ,
+The other down , unseen and full of water :
+That bucket down and full of tears am I ,
+Drinking my griefs , whilst you mount up on high .
+
+I thought you had been willing to resign .
+
+My crown , I am ; but still my griefs are mine .
+You may my glories and my state depose ,
+But not my griefs ; still am I king of those .
+
+Part of your cares you give me with your crown .
+
+Your cares set up do not pluck my cares down .
+My care is loss of care , by old care done ;
+Your care is gain of care , by new care won .
+The cares I give I have , though given away ;
+They tend the crown , yet still with me they stay .
+
+Are you contented to resign the crown ?
+
+Ay , no ; no , ay ; for I must nothing be ;
+Therefore no no , for I resign to thee .
+Now mark me how I will undo myself :
+I give this heavy weight from off my head ,
+And this unwieldy sceptre from my hand ,
+The pride of kingly sway from out my heart ;
+With mine own tears I wash away my balm ,
+With mine own hands I give away my crown ,
+With mine own tongue deny my sacred state ,
+With mine own breath release all duteous rites :
+All pomp and majesty I do forswear ;
+My manors , rents , revenues , I forego ;
+My acts , decrees , and statutes I deny :
+God pardon all oaths that are broke to me !
+God keep all vows unbroke are made to thee !
+Make me , that nothing have , with nothing griev'd ,
+And thou with all pleas'd , that hast all achiev'd !
+Long mayst thou live in Richard's seat to sit ,
+And soon lie Richard in an earthy pit !
+God save King Henry , unking'd Richard says ,
+And send him many years of sunshine days !
+What more remains ?
+
+No more , but that you read
+These accusations and these grievous crimes
+Committed by your person and your followers
+Against the state and profit of this land ;
+That , by confessing them , the souls of men
+May deem that you are worthily depos'd .
+
+Must I do so ? and must I ravel out
+My weav'd-up follies ? Gentle Northumberland ,
+If thy offences were upon record ,
+Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop
+To read a lecture of them ? If thou wouldst ,
+There shouldst thou find one heinous article ,
+Containing the deposing of a king ,
+And cracking the strong warrant of an oath ,
+Mark'd with a blot , damn'd in the book of heaven .
+Nay , all of you that stand and look upon me ,
+Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself ,
+Though some of you with Pilate wash your hands ,
+Showing an outward pity ; yet you Pilates
+Have here deliver'd me to my sour cross ,
+And water cannot wash away your sin .
+
+My lord , dispatch ; read o'er these articles .
+
+Mine eyes are full of tears , I cannot see :
+And yet salt water blinds them not so much
+But they can see a sort of traitors here .
+Nay , if I turn mine eyes upon myself ,
+I find myself a traitor with the rest ;
+For I have given here my soul's consent
+To undeck the pompous body of a king ;
+Made glory base and sovereignty a slave ,
+Proud majesty a subject , state a peasant ,
+
+My lord ,
+
+No lord of thine , thou haught insulting man ,
+Nor no man's lord ; I have no name , no title ,
+No , not that name was given me at the font ,
+But 'tis usurp'd : alack the heavy day !
+That I have worn so many winters out ,
+And know not now what name to call myself .
+O ! that I were a mockery king of snow ,
+Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke ,
+To melt myself away in water-drops .
+Good king , great king ,and yet not greatly good ,
+An if my word be sterling yet in England ,
+Let it command a mirror hither straight ,
+That it may show me what a face I have ,
+Since it is bankrupt of his majesty .
+
+Go some of you and fetch a looking-glass .
+
+
+Read o'er this paper while the glass doth come .
+
+Fiend ! thou torment'st me ere I come to hell .
+
+Urge it no more , my Lord Northumberland .
+
+The commons will not then be satisfied .
+
+They shall be satisfied : I'll read enough
+When I do see the very book indeed
+Where all my sins are writ , and that's myself .
+
+
+Give me the glass , and therein will I read .
+No deeper wrinkles yet ? Hath sorrow struck
+So many blows upon this face of mine
+And made no deeper wounds ? O , flattering glass !
+Like to my followers in prosperity ,
+Thou dost beguile me . Was this face the face
+That every day under his household roof
+Did keep ten thousand men ? Was this the face
+That like the sun did make beholders wink ?
+Was this the face that fac'd so many follies ,
+And was at last out-fac'd by Bolingbroke ?
+A brittle glory shineth in this face :
+As brittle as the glory is the face ;
+
+For there it is , crack'd in a hundred shivers .
+Mark , silent king , the moral of this sport ,
+
+How soon my sorrow hath destroy'd my face .
+
+The shadow of your sorrow hath destroy'd
+The shadow of your face .
+
+Say that again .
+The shadow of my sorrow ! Ha ! let's see :
+'Tis very true , my grief lies all within ;
+And these external manners of laments
+Are merely shadows to the unseen grief
+That swells with silence in the tortur'd soul ;
+There lies the substance : and I thank thee , king ,
+For thy great bounty , that not only giv'st
+Me cause to wail , but teachest me the way
+How to lament the cause . I'll beg one boon ,
+And then be gone and trouble you no more .
+Shall I obtain it ?
+
+Name it , fair cousin .
+
+'Fair cousin !' I am greater than a king ;
+For when I was a king , my flatterers
+Were then but subjects ; being now a subject ,
+I have a king here to my flatterer .
+Being so great , I have no need to beg .
+
+Yet ask .
+
+And shall I have ?
+
+You shall .
+
+Then give me leave to go .
+
+Whither ?
+
+Whither you will , so I were from your sights .
+
+Go , some of you convey him to the Tower .
+
+O , good ! convey ? conveyers are you all ,
+That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall .
+
+
+On Wednesday next we solemnly set down
+Our coronation : lords , prepare yourselves .
+
+
+A woeful pageant have we here beheld .
+
+The woe's to come ; the children yet unborn
+Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn .
+
+You holy clergymen , is there no plot
+To rid the realm of this pernicious blot ?
+
+My lord ,
+Before I freely speak my mind herein ,
+You shall not only take the sacrament
+To bury mine intents , but also to effect
+Whatever I shall happen to devise .
+I see your brows are full of discontent ,
+Your hearts of sorrow , and your eyes of tears :
+Come home with me to supper ; I will lay
+A plot shall show us all a merry day .
+
+This way the king will come ; this is the way
+To Julius C sar's ill-erected tower ,
+To whose flint bosom my condemned lord
+Is doom'd a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke .
+Here let us rest , if this rebellious earth
+Have any resting for her true king's queen .
+
+
+But soft , but see , or rather do not see ,
+My fair rose wither : yet look up , behold ,
+That you in pity may dissolve to dew ,
+And wash him fresh again with true-love tears .
+Ah ! thou , the model where old Troy did stand ,
+Thou map of honour , thou King Richard's tomb ,
+And not King Richard ; thou most beauteous inn ,
+Why should hard-favour'd grief be lodg'd in thee ,
+
+When triumph is become an alehouse guest ?
+
+Join not with grief , fair woman , do not so ,
+To make my end too sudden : learn , good soul ,
+To think our former state a happy dream ;
+From which awak'd , the truth of what we are
+Shows us but this . I am sworn brother , sweet ,
+To grim Necessity , and he and I
+Will keep a league till death . Hie thee to France ,
+And cloister thee in some religious house :
+Our holy lives must win a new world's crown ,
+Which our profane hours here have stricken down .
+
+What ! is my Richard both in shape and mind
+Transform'd and weaken'd ! Hath Bolingbroke depos'd
+Thine intellect ? hath he been in thy heart ?
+The lion dying thrusteth forth his paw
+And wounds the earth , if nothing else , with rage
+To be o'erpower'd ; and wilt thou , pupil-like ,
+Take thy correction mildly , kiss the rod ,
+And fawn on rage with base humility ,
+Which art a lion and a king of beasts ?
+
+A king of beasts indeed ; if aught but beasts ,
+I had been still a happy king of men .
+Good sometime queen , prepare thee hence for France ,
+Think I am dead , and that even here thou tak'st ,
+As from my death-bed , my last living leave .
+In winter's tedious nights sit by the fire
+With good old folks , and let them tell thee tales
+Of woeful ages , long ago betid ;
+And ere thou bid good night , to quit their grief ,
+Tell thou the lamentable tale of me ,
+And send the hearers weeping to their beds :
+For why the senseless brands will sympathize
+The heavy accent of thy moving tongue ,
+And in compassion weep the fire out ;
+And some will mourn in ashes , some coal-black ,
+For the deposing of a rightful king .
+
+
+My lord , the mind of Bolingbroke is chang'd ;
+You must to Pomfret , not unto the Tower .
+And , madam , there is order ta'en for you ;
+With all swift speed you must away to France .
+
+Northumberland , thou ladder wherewithal
+The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne ,
+The time shall not be many hours of age
+More than it is , ere foul sin gathering head
+Shall break into corruption . Thou shalt think ,
+Though he divide the realm and give thee half ,
+It is too little , helping him to all ;
+And he shall think that thou , which know'st the way
+To plant unrightful kings , wilt know again ,
+Being ne'er so little urg'd , another way
+To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne .
+The love of wicked friends converts to fear ;
+That fear to hate , and hate turns one or both
+To worthy danger and deserved death .
+
+My guilt be on my head , and there an end .
+Take leave and part ; for you must part forthwith .
+
+Doubly divorc'd ! Bad men , ye violate
+A two-fold marriage ; 'twixt my crown and me ,
+And then , betwixt me and my married wife .
+Let me unkiss the oath 'twixt thee and me ;
+And yet not so , for with a kiss 'twas made .
+Part us , Northumberland : I towards the north ,
+Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clime ;
+My wife to France : from whence , set forth in pomp ,
+She came adorned hither like sweet May ,
+Sent back like Hallowmas or short'st of day .
+
+And must we be divided ? must we part ?
+
+Ay , hand from hand , my love , and heart from heart .
+
+Banish us both and send the king with me .
+
+That were some love but little policy .
+
+Then whither he goes , thither let me go .
+
+So two , together weeping , make one woe .
+Weep thou for me in France , I for thee here ;
+Better far off , than near , be ne'er the near .
+Go , count thy way with sighs , I mine with groans .
+
+So longest way shall have the longest moans .
+
+Twice for one step I'll groan , the way being short ,
+And piece the way out with a heavy heart .
+Come , come , in wooing sorrow let's be brief ,
+Since , wedding it , thero is such length in grief .
+One kiss shall stop our mouths , and dumbly part ;
+Thus give I mine , and thus take I thy heart .
+
+
+Give me mine own again ; 'twere no good part
+To take on me to keep and kill thy heart .
+
+So , now I have mine own again , be gone ,
+That I may strive to kill it with a groan .
+
+We make woe wanton with this fond delay :
+Once more , adieu ; the rest let sorrow say .
+
+
+My lord , you told me you would tell the rest ,
+When weeping made you break the story off ,
+Of our two cousins coming into London .
+
+Where did I leave ?
+
+At that sad stop , my lord ,
+Where rude misgovern'd hands , from windows' tops ,
+Threw dust and rubbish on King Richard's head .
+
+Then , as I said , the duke , great Bolingbroke ,
+Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed ,
+Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know ,
+With slow but stately pace kept on his course ,
+While all tongues cried , 'God save thee , Bolingbroke !'
+You would have thought the very windows spake ,
+So many greedy looks of young and old
+Through casements darted their desiring eyes
+Upon his visage , and that all the walls
+With painted imagery had said at once
+'Jesu preserve thee ! welcome , Bolingbroke !'
+Whilst he , from one side to the other turning ,
+Bare-headed , lower than his proud steed's neck ,
+Bespake them thus , 'I thank you , countrymen :'
+And thus still doing , thus he pass'd along .
+
+Alack , poor Richard ! where rode he the whilst ?
+
+As in a theatre , the eyes of men ,
+After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage ,
+Are idly bent on him that enters next ,
+Thinking his prattle to be tedious ;
+Even so , or with much more contempt , men's eyes
+Did scowl on Richard : no man cried , 'God save him ;'
+No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home ;
+But dust was thrown upon his sacred head ,
+Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off ,
+His face still combating with tears and smiles ,
+The badges of his grief and patience ,
+That had not God , for some strong purpose , steel'd
+The hearts of men , they must perforce have melted ,
+And barbarism itself have pitied him .
+But heaven hath a hand in these events ,
+To whose high will we bound our calm contents .
+To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now ,
+Whose state and honour I for aye allow .
+
+Here comes my son Aumerle .
+
+Aumerle that was ;
+But that is lost for being Richard's friend ,
+And , madam , you must call him Rutland now .
+I am in parliament pledge for his truth
+And lasting fealty to the new-made king .
+
+
+Welcome , my son : who are the violets now
+That strew the green lap of the new come spring ?
+
+Madam , I know not , nor I greatly care not :
+God knows I had as lief be none as one .
+
+Well , bear you well in this new spring of time ,
+Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime .
+What news from Oxford ? hold those justs and triumphs ?
+
+For aught I know , my lord , they do .
+
+You will be there , I know .
+
+If God prevent it not , I purpose so .
+
+What seal is that that hangs without thy bosom ?
+Yea , look'st thou pale ? let me see the writing .
+
+My lord , 'tis nothing .
+
+No matter then , who sees it :
+I will be satisfied ; let me see the writing .
+
+I do beseech your Grace to pardon me :
+It is a matter of small consequence ,
+Which for some reasons I would not have seen .
+
+Which for some reasons , sir , I mean to see .
+I fear , I fear ,
+
+What should you fear ?
+'Tis nothing but some bond he's enter'd into
+For gay apparel 'gainst the triumph day .
+
+Bound to himself ! what doth he with a bond
+That he is bound to ? Wife , thou art a fool .
+Boy , let me see the writing .
+
+I do beseech you , pardon me ; I may not show it .
+
+I will be satisfied ; let me see it , I say .
+
+Treason ! foul treason ! villain ! traitor ! slave !
+
+What is the matter , my lord ?
+
+Ho ! who is within there ?
+
+
+Saddle my horse .
+
+God for his mercy ! what treachery is here !
+
+Why , what is it , my lord ?
+
+Give me my boots , I say ; saddle my horse .
+Now , by mine honour , by my life , my troth ,
+I will appeach the villain .
+
+
+What's the matter ?
+
+Peace , foolish woman .
+
+I will not peace . What is the matter , Aumerle ?
+
+Good mother , be content ; it is no more
+Than my poor life must answer .
+
+Thy life answer !
+
+Bring me my boots : I will unto the king .
+
+
+Strike him , Aumerle . Poor boy , thou art amaz'd .
+
+
+Hence , villain ! never more come in my sight .
+
+
+Give me my boots , I say .
+
+Why , York , what wilt thou do ?
+Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own ?
+Have we more sons , or are we like to have ?
+Is not my teeming date drunk up with time ?
+And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine age ,
+And rob me of a happy mother's name ?
+Is he not like thee ? is he not thine own ?
+
+Thou fond , mad woman ,
+Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy ?
+A dozen of them here have ta'en the sacrament ,
+And interchangeably set down their hands ,
+To kill the king at Oxford .
+
+He shall be none ;
+We'll keep him here : then , what is that to him ?
+
+Away , fond woman ! were he twenty times
+My son , I would appeach him .
+
+Hadst thou groan'd for him
+As I have done , thou'dst be more pitiful .
+But now I know thy mind : thou dost suspect
+That I have been disloyal to thy bed ,
+And that he is a bastard , not thy son :
+Sweet York , sweet husband , be not of that mind :
+He is as like thee as a man may be ,
+Not like to me , nor any of my kin ,
+And yet I love him .
+
+Make way , unruly woman !
+
+
+After , Aumerle ! Mount thee upon his horse ;
+Spur post , and get before him to the king ,
+And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee .
+I'll not be long behind ; though I be old ,
+I doubt not but to ride as fast as York :
+And never will I rise up from the ground
+Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee . Away ! be gone .
+
+
+Can no man tell of my unthrifty son ?
+'Tis full three months since I did see him last .
+If any plague hang over us , 'tis he .
+I would to God , my lords , he might be found :
+Inquire at London , 'mongst the taverns there ,
+For there , they say , he daily doth frequent ,
+With unrestrained loose companions ,
+Even such , they say , as stand in narrow lanes
+And beat our watch and rob our passengers ;
+While he , young wanton and effeminate boy ,
+Takes on the point of honour to support
+So dissolute a crew .
+
+My lord , some two days since I saw the prince ,
+And told him of these triumphs held at Oxford .
+
+And what said the gallant ?
+
+His answer was : he would unto the stews ,
+And from the common'st creature pluck a glove ,
+And wear it as a favour ; and with that
+He would unhorse the lustiest challenger .
+
+As dissolute as desperate ; yet , through both ,
+I see some sparkles of a better hope ,
+Which elder days may happily bring forth .
+But who comes here ?
+
+
+Where is the king ?
+
+What means
+Our cousin , that he stares and looks so wildly ?
+
+God save your Grace ! I do beseech your majesty ,
+To have some conference with your Grace alone .
+
+Withdraw yourselves , and leave us here alone .
+
+What is the matter with our cousin now ?
+
+For ever may my knees grow to the earth ,
+My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth ,
+Unless a pardon ere I rise or speak .
+
+Intended or committed was this fault ?
+If on the first , how heinous e'er it be ,
+To win thy after-love I pardon thee .
+
+Then give me leave that I may turn the key ,
+That no man enter till my tale be done .
+
+Have thy desire .
+
+
+My liege , beware ! look to thyself ;
+Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there .
+
+Villain , I'll make thee safe .
+
+Stay thy revengeful hand ; thou hast no cause to fear .
+
+Open the door , secure , foolhardy king :
+Shall I for love speak treason to thy face ?
+Open the door , or I will break it open .
+
+What is the matter , uncle ? speak ;
+Recover breath ; tell us how near is danger ,
+That we may arm us to encounter it .
+
+Peruse this writing here , and thou shalt know
+The treason that my haste forbids me show .
+
+Remember , as thou read'st , thy promise pass'd :
+I do repent me ; read not my name there ;
+My heart is not confederate with my hand .
+
+'Twas , villain , ere thy hand did set it down .
+I tore it from the traitor's bosom , king ;
+Fear , and not love , begets his penitence .
+Forget to pity him , lest thy pity prove
+A serpent that will sting thee to the heart .
+
+O heinous , strong , and bold conspiracy !
+O loyal father of a treacherous son !
+Thou sheer , immaculate , and silver fountain ,
+From whence this stream through muddy passages
+Hath held his current and defil'd himself !
+Thy overflow of good converts to bad ,
+And thy abundant goodness shall excuse
+This deadly blot in thy digressing son .
+
+So shall my virtue be his vice's bawd ,
+And he shall spend mine honour with his shame ,
+As thriftless sons their scraping fathers' gold .
+Mine honour lives when his dishonour dies ,
+Or my sham'd life in his dishonour lies :
+Thou kill'st me in his life ; giving him breath ,
+The traitor lives , the true man's put to death .
+
+What ho , my liege ! for God's sake let me in .
+
+What shrill-voic'd suppliant makes this eager cry ?
+
+A woman , and thine aunt , great king ; 'tis I .
+Speak with me , pity me , open the door :
+A beggar begs , that never begg'd before .
+
+Our scene is alter'd from a serious thing ,
+And now chang'd to 'The Beggar and the King .'
+My dangerous cousin , let your mother in :
+I know she's come to pray for your foul sin .
+
+
+If thou do pardon , whosoever pray ,
+More sins , for this forgiveness , prosper may .
+This fester'd joint cut off , the rest rests sound ;
+This , let alone , will all the rest confound .
+
+
+O king ! believe not this hard-hearted man :
+Love , loving not itself , none other can .
+
+Thou frantic woman , what dost thou make here ?
+Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear ?
+
+Sweet York , be-patient .
+
+Hear me , gentle liege .
+
+Rise up , good aunt .
+
+Not yet , I thee beseech .
+For ever will I walk upon my knees ,
+And never see day that the happy sees ,
+Till thou give joy ; until thou bid me joy ,
+By pardoning Rutland , my transgressing boy .
+
+Unto my mother's prayers I bend my knee .
+
+
+Against them both my true joints bended be .
+
+Ill mayst thou thrive if thou grant any grace !
+
+Pleads he in earnest ? look upon his face ;
+His eyes do drop no tears , his prayers are in jest ;
+His words come from his mouth , ours from our breast :
+He prays but faintly and would be denied ;
+We pray with heart and soul and all beside :
+His weary joints would gladly rise , I know ;
+Our knees shall kneel till to the ground they grow :
+His prayers are full of false hypocrisy ;
+Ours of true zeal and deep integrity .
+Our prayers do out-pray his ; then let them have
+That mercy which true prayer ought to have .
+
+Good aunt , stand up .
+
+Nay , do not say 'stand up ;'
+But 'pardon' first , and afterwards 'stand up .'
+An if I were thy nurse , thy tongue to teach ,
+'Pardon' should be the first word of thy speech .
+I never long'd to hear a word till now ;
+Say 'pardon ,' king ; let pity teach thee how :
+The word is short , but not so short as sweet ;
+No word like 'pardon ,' for kings' mouths so meet .
+
+Speak it in French , king ; say , 'pardonnez moy .'
+
+Dost thou teach pardon pardon to destroy ?
+Ah ! my sour husband , my hard-hearted lord ,
+That sett'st the word itself against the word .
+Speak 'pardon' as 'tis current in our land ;
+The chopping French we do not understand .
+Thine eye begins to speak , set thy tongue there ,
+Or in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear ,
+That hearing how our plants and prayers do pierce ,
+Pity may move thee pardon to rehearse .
+
+Good aunt , stand up .
+
+I do not sue to stand ;
+Pardon is all the suit I have in hand .
+
+I pardon him , as God shall pardon me .
+
+O happy vantage of a kneeling knee !
+Yet am I sick for fear : speak it again ;
+Twice saying 'pardon' doth not pardon twain ,
+But makes one pardon strong .
+
+With all my heart
+I pardon him .
+
+A god on earth thou art .
+
+But for our trusty brother-in-law and the abbot ,
+With all the rest of that consorted crew ,
+Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels .
+Good uncle , help to order several powers
+To Oxford , or where'er these traitors are :
+They shall not live within this world , I swear ,
+But I will have them , if I once know where .
+Uncle , farewell : and cousin too , adieu :
+Your mother well hath pray'd , and prove you true .
+
+Come , my old son : I pray God make thee new .
+
+
+Didst thou not mark the king , what words he spake ?
+'Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear ?'
+Was it not so ?
+
+Those were his very words .
+
+'Have I no friend ?' quoth he : he spake it twice ,
+And urg'd it twice together , did he not ?
+
+He did .
+
+And speaking it , he wistly looked on me ,
+As who should say , 'I would thou wert the man
+That would divorce this terror from my heart ;'
+Meaning the king at Pomfret . Come , let's go :
+I am the king's friend , and will rid his foe .
+
+
+I have been studying how I may compare
+This prison where I live unto the world :
+And for because the world is populous ,
+And here is not a creature but myself ,
+I cannot do it ; yet I'll hammer it out .
+My brain I'll prove the female to my soul ;
+My soul the father : and these two beget
+A generation of still-breeding thoughts ,
+And these same thoughts people this little world
+In humours like the people of this world ,
+For no thought is contented . The better sort ,
+As thoughts of things divine , are intermix'd
+With scruples , and do set the word itself
+Against the word :
+As thus , 'Come , little ones ;' and then again ,
+'It is as hard to come as for a camel
+To thread the postern of a needle's eye .'
+Thoughts tending to ambition , they do plot
+Unlikely wonders ; how these vain weak nails
+May tear a passage through the flinty ribs
+Of this hard world , my ragged prison walls ;
+And , for they cannot , die in their own pride .
+Thoughts tending to content flatter themselves
+That they are not the first of fortune's slaves ,
+Nor shall not be the last ; like silly beggars
+Who sitting in the stocks refuge their shame ,
+That many have and others must sit there :
+And in this thought they find a kind of ease ,
+Bearing their own misfortune on the back
+Of such as have before endur'd the like .
+Thus play I in one person many people ,
+And none contented : sometimes am I king ;
+Then treason makes me wish myself a beggar ,
+And so I am : then crushing penury
+Persuades me I was better when a king ;
+Then am I king'd again ; and by and by
+Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke ,
+And straight am nothing : but whate'er I be ,
+Nor I nor any man that but man is
+With nothing shall be pleas'd , till he be eas'd
+With being nothing . Music do I hear ?
+
+Ha , ha ! keep time . How sour sweet music is
+When time is broke and no proportion kept !
+So is it in the music of men's lives .
+And here have I the daintiness of ear
+To check time broke in a disorder'd string ;
+But for the concord of my state and time
+Had not an ear to hear my true time broke .
+I wasted time , and now doth time waste me ;
+For now hath time made me his numbering clock :
+My thoughts are minutes , and with sighs they jar
+Their watches on unto mine eyes , the outward watch ,
+Whereto my finger , like a dial's point ,
+Is pointing still , in cleansing them from tears .
+Now sir , the sound that tells what hour it is
+Are clamorous groans , that strike upon my heart
+Which is the bell : so sighs and tears and groans
+Show minutes , times , and hours ; but my time
+Runs posting on in Bolingbroke's proud joy ,
+While I stand fooling here , his Jack o' the clock .
+This music mads me : let it sound no more ;
+For though it have holp madmen to their wits ,
+In me it seems it will make wise men mad .
+Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me !
+For 'tis a sign of love , and love to Richard
+Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world .
+
+
+Hail , royal prince !
+
+Thanks , noble peer ;
+The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear .
+What art thou ? and how comest thou hither , man ,
+Where no man never comes but that sad dog
+That brings me food to make misfortune live ?
+
+I was a poor groom of thy stable , king ,
+When thou wert king ; who , travelling towards York ,
+With much ado at length have gotten leave
+To look upon my sometimes royal master's face .
+O ! how it yearn'd my heart when I beheld
+In London streets , that coronation day
+When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary ,
+That horse that thou so often hast bestrid ,
+That horse that I so carefully have dress'd .
+
+Rode he on Barbary ? Tell me , gentle friend ,
+How went he under him ?
+
+So proudly as if he disdain'd the ground .
+
+So proud that Bolingbroke was on his back !
+That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand ;
+This hand hath made him proud with clapping him .
+Would he not stumble ? Would he not fall down ,
+Since pride must have a fall ,and break the neck
+Of that proud man that did usurp his back ?
+Forgiveness , horse ! why do I rail on thee ,
+Since thou , created to be aw'd by man ,
+Wast born to bear ? I was not made a horse ;
+And yet I bear a burden like an ass ,
+Spur-gall'd and tir'd by jauncing Bolingbroke .
+
+
+Fellow , give place ; here is no longer stay .
+
+If thou love me , 'tis time thou wert away .
+
+What my tongue dares not , that my heart shall say .
+
+
+My lord , will't please you to fall to ?
+
+Taste of it first , as thou art wont to do .
+
+My lord , I dare not : Sir Pierce of Exton , who lately came from the king , commands the contrary .
+
+The devil take Henry of Lancaster , and thee !
+Patience is stale , and I am weary of it .
+
+
+Help , help , help !
+
+
+How now ! what means death in this rude assault ?
+Villain , thine own hand yields thy death's instrument .
+
+Go thou and fill another room in hell .
+
+That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire
+That staggers thus my person . Exton , thy fierce hand
+Hath with the king's blood stain'd the king's own land .
+Mount , mount , my soul ! thy seat is up on high ,
+Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward , here to die .
+
+
+As full of valour as of royal blood :
+Both have I spilt ; O ! would the deed were good ;
+For now the devil , that told me I did well ,
+Says that this deed is chronicled in hell .
+This dead king to the living king I'll bear .
+Take hence the rest and give them burial here .
+
+
+Kind uncle York , the latest news we hear
+Is that the rebels have consum'd with fire
+Our town of Cicester in Gloucestershire ;
+But whether they be ta'en or slain we hear not .
+
+Welcome , my lord . What is the news ?
+
+First , to thy sacred state wish I all happiness .
+The next news is : I have to London sent
+The heads of Salisbury , Spencer , Blunt , and Kent .
+The manner of their taking may appear
+At large discoursed in this paper here .
+
+We thank thee , gentle Percy , for thy pains ,
+And to thy worth will add right worthy gains .
+
+
+My lord , I have from Oxford sent to London
+The heads of Brocas and Sir Bennet Seely ,
+Two of the dangerous consorted traitors
+That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow .
+
+Thy pains , Fitzwater , shall not be forgot ;
+Right noble is thy merit , well I wot .
+
+
+The grand conspirator , Abbot of Westminster ,
+With clog of conscience and sour melancholy ,
+Hath yielded up his body to the grave ;
+But here is Carlisle living , to abide
+Thy kingly doom and sentence of his pride .
+
+Carlisle , this is your doom :
+Choose out some secret place , some reverend room ,
+More than thou hast , and with it joy thy life ;
+So , as thou livest in peace , die free from strife :
+For though mine enemy thou hast ever been ,
+High sparks of honour in thee have I seen .
+
+
+Great king , within this coffin I present
+Thy buried fear : herein all breathless lies
+The mightiest of thy greatest enemies ,
+Richard of Bordeaux , by me hither brought .
+
+Exton , I thank thee not ; for thou hast wrought
+A deed of slander with thy fatal hand
+Upon my head and all this famous land .
+
+From your own mouth , my lord , did I this deed .
+
+They love not poison that do poison need ,
+Nor do I thee : though I did wish him dead ,
+I hate the murderer , love him murdered .
+The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour ,
+But neither my good word nor princely favour :
+With Cain go wander through the shade of night ,
+And never show thy head by day nor light .
+Lords , I protest , my soul is full of woe ,
+That blood should sprinkle me to make me grow :
+Come , mourn with me for that I do lament ,
+And put on sullen black incontinent .
+I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land ,
+To wash this blood off from my guilty hand .
+March sadly after ; grace my mournings here ,
+In weeping after this untimely bier .
+
+THE TRAGEDY OF KING RICHARD III
+
+Now is the winter of our discontent
+Made glorious summer by this sun of York ;
+And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house
+In the deep bosom of the ocean buried .
+Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths ;
+Our bruised arms hung up for monuments ;
+Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings ;
+Our dreadful marches to delightful measures .
+Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front ;
+And now ,instead of mounting barbed steeds ,
+To fright the souls of fearful adversaries ,
+He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber
+To the lascivious pleasing of a lute .
+But I , that am not shap'd for sportive tricks ,
+Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass ;
+I , that am rudely stamp'd , and want love's majesty
+To strut before a wanton ambling nymph ;
+I , that am curtail'd of this fair proportion ,
+Cheated of feature by dissembling nature ,
+Deform'd , unfinish'd , sent before my time
+Into this breathing world , scarce half made up ,
+And that so lamely and unfashionable
+That dogs bark at me , as I halt by them ;
+Why , I , in this weak piping time of peace ,
+Have no delight to pass away the time ,
+Unless to see my shadow in the sun
+And descant on mine own deformity :
+And therefore , since I cannot prove a lover ,
+To entertain these fair well-spoken days ,
+I am determined to prove a villain ,
+And hate the idle pleasures of these days .
+Plots have I laid , inductions dangerous ,
+By drunken prophecies , libels , and dreams ,
+To set my brother Clarence and the king
+In deadly hate the one against the other :
+And if King Edward be as true and just
+As I am subtle , false , and treacherous ,
+This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up ,
+About a prophecy , which says , that G
+Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be .
+Dive , thoughts , down to my soul : here Clarence comes .
+
+
+Brother , good day : what means this armed guard
+
+That waits upon your Grace ?
+
+His majesty ,
+Tendering my person's safety , hath appointed
+This conduct to convey me to the Tower .
+
+Upon what cause ?
+
+Because my name is George .
+
+Alack ! my lord , that fault is none of yours ;
+He should , for that , commit your godfathers .
+O ! belike his majesty hath some intent
+That you should be new-christen'd in the Tower .
+But what's the matter , Clarence ? may I know ?
+
+Yea , Richard , when I know ; for I protest
+As yet I do not : but , as I can learn ,
+He hearkens after prophecies and dreams ;
+And from the cross-row plucks the letter G ,
+And says a wizard told him that by G
+His issue disinherited should be ;
+And , for my name of George begins with G ,
+It follows in his thought that I am he .
+These , as I learn , and such like toys as these ,
+Have mov'd his highness to commit me now .
+
+Why , this it is , when men are rul'd by women :
+'Tis not the king that sends you to the Tower ;
+My Lady Grey , his wife , Clarence , 'tis she
+That tempers him to this extremity .
+Was it not she and that good man of worship ,
+Antony Woodville , her brother there ,
+That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower ,
+From whence this present day he is deliver'd ?
+We are not safe , Clarence ; we are not safe .
+
+By heaven , I think there is no man secure
+But the queen's kindred and night-walking heralds
+That trudge betwixt the king and Mistress Shore .
+Heard you not what a humble suppliant
+Lord Hastings was to her for his delivery ?
+
+Humbly complaining to her deity
+Got my lord chamberlain his liberty .
+I'll tell you what ; I think it is our way ,
+If we will keep in favour with the king ,
+To be her men and wear her livery :
+The jealous o'er-worn widow and herself ,
+Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen ,
+Are mighty gossips in our monarchy .
+
+I beseech your Graces both to pardon me ;
+His majesty hath straitly given in charge
+That no man shall have private conference ,
+Of what degree soever , with your brother .
+
+Even so ; an please your worship , Brakenbury ,
+You may partake of anything we say :
+We speak no treason , man : we say the king
+Is wise and virtuous , and his noble queen
+Well struck in years , fair , and not jealous ;
+We say that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot ,
+A cherry lip , a bonny eye , a passing pleasing tongue ;
+And that the queen's kindred are made gentlefolks .
+How say you , sir ? can you deny all this ?
+
+With this , my lord , myself have nought to do .
+
+Naught to do with Mistress Shore ! I tell thee , fellow ,
+He that doth naught with her , excepting one ,
+Were best to do it secretly , alone .
+
+What one , my lord ?
+
+Her husband , knave . Wouldst thou betray me ?
+
+I beseech your Grace to pardon me ; and withal
+Forbear your conference with the noble duke .
+
+We know thy charge , Brakenbury , and will obey .
+
+We are the queen's abjects , and must obey .
+Brother , farewell : I will unto the king ;
+And whatsoe'er you will employ me in ,
+Were it to call King Edward's widow sister ,
+I will perform it to enfranchise you .
+Meantime , this deep disgrace in brotherhood
+Touches me deeper than you can imagine .
+
+I know it pleaseth neither of us well .
+
+Well , your imprisonment shall not be long ;
+I will deliver you , or else lie for you :
+Meantime , have patience .
+
+I must perforce : farewell .
+
+
+Go , tread the path that thou shalt ne'er return ,
+Simple , plain Clarence ! I do love thee so
+That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven ,
+If heaven will take the present at our hands .
+But who comes here ? the new-deliver'd Hastings !
+
+
+Good time of day unto my gracious lord !
+
+As much unto my good lord chamberlain !
+Well are you welcome to this open air .
+How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment ?
+
+With patience , noble lord , as prisoners must :
+But I shall live , my lord , to give them thanks
+That were the cause of my imprisonment .
+
+No doubt , no doubt ; and so shall Clarence too ;
+For they that were your enemies are his ,
+And have prevail'd as much on him as you .
+
+More pity that the eagles should be mew'd ,
+While kites and buzzards prey at liberty .
+
+What news abroad ?
+
+No news so bad abroad as this at home ;
+The king is sickly , weak , and melancholy ,
+And his physicians fear him mightily .
+
+Now by Saint Paul , this news is bad indeed .
+O ! he hath kept an evil diet long ,
+And over-much consum'd his royal person :
+'Tis very grievous to be thought upon .
+What , is he in his bed ?
+
+He is .
+
+Go you before , and I will follow you .
+
+He cannot live , I hope ; and must not die
+Till George be pack'd with post-horse up to heaven .
+I'll in , to urge his hatred more to Clarence ,
+With lies well steel'd with weighty arguments ;
+And , if I fail not in my deep intent ,
+Clarence hath not another day to live :
+Which done , God take King Edward to his mercy ,
+And leave the world for me to bustle in !
+For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter .
+What though I kill'd her husband and her father ,
+The readiest way to make the wench amends
+Is to become her husband and her father :
+The which will I ; not all so much for love
+As for another secret close intent ,
+By marrying her , which I must reach unto .
+But yet I run before my horse to market :
+Clarence still breathes ; Edward still lives and reigns :
+When they are gone , then must I count my gains .
+
+Set down , set down your honourable load ,
+If honour may be shrouded in a hearse ,
+Whilst I a while obsequiously lament
+The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster .
+Poor key-cold figure of a holy king !
+Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster !
+Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood !
+Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost ,
+To hear the lamentations of poor Anne ,
+Wife to thy Edward , to thy slaughter'd son ,
+Stabb'd by the self-same hand that made these wounds !
+Lo , in these windows that let forth thy life ,
+I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes .
+O ! cursed be the hand that made these holes ;
+Cursed the heart that had the heart to do it !
+Cursed the blood that let this blood from hence !
+More direful hap betide that hated wretch ,
+That makes us wretched by the death of thee ,
+Than I can wish to adders , spiders , toads ,
+Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives !
+If ever he have child , abortive be it ,
+Prodigious , and untimely brought to light ,
+Whose ugly and unnatural aspect
+May fright the hopeful mother at the view ;
+And that be heir to his unhappiness !
+If ever he have wife , let her be made
+More miserable by the death of him
+Than I am made by my young lord and thee !
+Come , now toward Chertsey with your holy load ,
+Taken from Paul's to be interred there ;
+And still , as you are weary of the weight ,
+Rest you , whiles I lament King Henry's corse .
+
+Stay , you that bear the corse , and set it down .
+
+What black magician conjures up this fiend ,
+To stop devoted charitable deeds ?
+
+Villains ! set down the corse ; or , by Saint Paul ,
+I'll make a corse of him that disobeys .
+
+My lord , stand back , and let the coffin pass .
+
+Unmanner'd dog ! stand thou when I command :
+Advance thy halberd higher than my breast ,
+Or , by Saint Paul , I'll strike thee to my foot ,
+And spurn upon thee , beggar , for thy boldness .
+
+
+What ! do you tremble ? are you all afraid ?
+Alas ! I blame you not ; for you are mortal ,
+And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil .
+Avaunt ! thou dreadful minister of hell ,
+Thou hadst but power over his mortal body ,
+His soul thou canst not have : therefore , be gone .
+
+Sweet saint , for charity , be not so curst .
+
+Foul devil , for God's sake hence , and trouble us not ;
+For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell ,
+Fill'd it with cursing cries and deep exclaims .
+If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds ,
+Behold this pattern of thy butcheries .
+O ! gentlemen ; see , see ! dead Henry's wounds
+Open their congeal'd mouths and bleed afresh .
+Blush , blush , thou lump of foul deformity ,
+For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood
+From cold and empty veins , where no blood dwells :
+Thy deed , inhuman and unnatural ,
+Provokes this deluge most unnatural .
+O God ! which this blood mad'st , revenge his death ;
+O earth ! which this blood drink'st , revenge his death ;
+Either heaven with lightning strike the murderer dead ,
+Or earth , gape open wide , and eat him quick ,
+As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood ,
+Which his hell-govern'd arm hath butchered !
+
+Lady , you know no rules of charity ,
+Which renders good for bad , blessings for curses .
+
+Villain , thou know'st no law of God nor man :
+No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity .
+
+But I know none , and therefore am no beast .
+
+O ! wonderful , when devils tell the truth .
+
+More wonderful when angels are so angry .
+Vouchsafe , divine perfection of a woman ,
+Of these supposed evils , to give me leave ,
+By circumstance , but to acquit myself .
+
+Vouchsafe , diffus'd infection of a man ,
+For these known evils , but to give me leave ,
+By circumstance , to curse thy cursed self .
+
+Fairer than tongue can name thee , let me have
+Some patient leisure to excuse myself .
+
+Fouler than heart can think thee , thou canst make
+No excuse current , but to hang thyself .
+
+By such despair I should accuse myself .
+
+And by despairing shouldst thou stand excus'd
+For doing worthy vengeance on thyself ,
+Which didst unworthy slaughter upon others .
+
+Say that I slew them not .
+
+Then say they were not slain :
+But dead they are , and , devilish slave , by thee .
+
+I did not kill your husband .
+
+Why , then he is alive .
+
+Nay , he is dead ; and slain by Edward's hand .
+
+In thy foul throat thou liest : Queen Margaret saw
+Thy murderous falchion smoking in his blood ;
+The which thou once didst bend against her breast ,
+But that thy brothers beat aside the point .
+
+I was provoked by her sland'rous tongue ,
+That laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders .
+
+Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind ,
+That never dreamt on aught but butcheries .
+Didst thou not kill this king ?
+
+I grant ye .
+
+Dost grant me , hedge-hog ? Then , God grant me too
+Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed !
+O ! he was gentle , mild , and virtuous .
+
+The fitter for the King of heaven , that hath him .
+
+He is in heaven , where thou shalt never come .
+
+Let him thank me , that help'd to send him thither ;
+For he was fitter for that place than earth .
+
+And thou unfit for any place but hell .
+
+Yes , one place else , if you will bear me name it .
+
+Some dungeon .
+
+Your bed-chamber .
+
+Ill rest betide the chamber where thou liest !
+
+So will it , madam , till I lie with you .
+
+I hope so .
+
+I know so . But , gentle Lady Anne ,
+To leave this keen encounter of our wits ,
+And fall somewhat into a slower method ,
+Is not the causer of the timeless deaths
+Of these Plantagenets , Henry and Edward ,
+As blameful as the executioner ?
+
+Thou wast the cause , and most accurs'd effect .
+
+Your beauty was the cause of that effect ;
+Your beauty , that did haunt me in my sleep
+To undertake the death of all the world ,
+So might I live one hour in your sweet bosom .
+
+If I thought that , I tell thee , homicide ,
+These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks .
+
+These eyes could not endure that beauty's wrack ;
+You should not blemish it if I stood by :
+As all the world is cheered by the sun ,
+So I by that ; it is my day , my life .
+
+Black night o'ershade thy day , and death thy life !
+
+Curse not thyself , fair creature ; thou art both .
+
+I would I were , to be reveng'd on thee .
+
+It is a quarrel most unnatural ,
+To be reveng'd on him that loveth thee .
+
+It is a quarrel just and reasonable ,
+To be reveng'd on him that kill'd my husband .
+
+He that bereft thee , lady , of thy husband ,
+Did it to help thee to a better husband .
+
+His better doth not breathe upon the earth .
+
+He lives that loves thee better than he could .
+
+Name him .
+
+Plantagenet .
+
+Why , that was he .
+
+The self-same name , but one of better nature .
+
+Where is he ?
+
+Here .
+
+Why dost thou spit at me ?
+
+Would it were mortal poison , for thy sake !
+
+Never came poison from so sweet a place .
+
+Never hung poison on a fouler toad .
+Out of my sight ! thou dost infect mine eyes .
+
+Thine eyes , sweet lady , have infected mine .
+
+Would they were basilisks , to strike thee dead !
+
+I would they were , that I might die at once ;
+For now they kill me with a living death .
+Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears ,
+Sham'd their aspects with store of childish drops ;
+These eyes , which never shed remorseful tear ;
+No , when my father York and Edward wept
+To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made
+When black-fac'd Clifford shook his sword at him ;
+Nor when thy war-like father like a child ,
+Told the sad story of my father's death ,
+And twenty times made pause to sob and weep ,
+That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks ,
+Like trees bedash'd with rain : in that sad time ,
+My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear ;
+And what these sorrows could not thence exhale ,
+Thy beauty hath , and made them blind with weeping .
+I never su'd to friend , nor enemy ;
+My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing words ;
+But , now thy beauty is propos'd my fee ,
+My proud heart sues , and prompts my tongue to speak .
+
+Teach not thy lip such scorn , for it was made
+For kissing , lady , not for such contempt .
+If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive ,
+Lo ! here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword ;
+Which if thou please to hide in this true breast ,
+And let the soul forth that adoreth thee ,
+I lay it open to the deadly stroke ,
+And humbly beg the death upon my knee .
+
+Nay , do not pause ; for I did kill King Henry ;
+But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me .
+Nay , now dispatch ; 'twas I that stabb'd young Edward ;
+
+But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on .
+
+Take up the sword again , or take up me .
+
+Arise , dissembler : though I wish thy death ,
+I will not be thy executioner .
+
+Then bid me kill myself , and I will do it .
+
+I have already .
+
+That was in thy rage :
+Speak it again , and , even with the word ,
+This hand , which for thy love did kill thy love ,
+Shall , for thy love , kill a far truer love :
+To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary .
+
+I would I knew thy heart .
+
+'Tis figur'd in my tongue .
+
+I fear me both are false .
+
+Then never man was true .
+
+Well , well , put up your sword .
+
+Say , then , my peace is made .
+
+That shalt thou know hereafter .
+
+But shall I live in hope ?
+
+All men , I hope , live so .
+
+Vouchsafe to wear this ring .
+
+To take is not to give .
+
+
+Look , how my ring encompasseth thy finger ,
+Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart ;
+Wear both of them , for both of them are thine .
+And if thy poor devoted servant may
+But beg one favour at thy gracious hand ,
+Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever .
+
+What is it ?
+
+That it may please you leave these sad designs
+To him that hath most cause to be a mourner ,
+And presently repair to Crosby-place ;
+Where , after I have solemnly interr'd
+At Chertsey monastery this noble king ,
+And wet his grave with my repentant tears ,
+I will with all expedient duty see you :
+For divers unknown reasons , I beseech you ,
+Grant me this boon .
+
+With all my heart ; and much it joys me too
+To see you are become so penitent .
+Tressel and Berkeley , go along with me .
+
+Bid me farewell .
+
+'Tis more than you deserve ;
+But since you teach me how to flatter you ,
+Imagine I have said farewell already .
+
+
+Sirs , take up the corse .
+
+Toward Chertsey , noble lord ?
+
+No , to White-Friars ; there attend my coming .
+
+Was ever woman in this humour woo'd ?
+Was ever woman in this humour won ?
+I'll have her ; but I will not keep her long .
+What ! I , that kill'd her husband , and his father ,
+To take her in her heart's extremest hate ;
+With curses in her mouth , tears in her eyes ,
+The bleeding witness of her hatred by ;
+Having God , her conscience , and these bars against me ,
+And nothing I to back my suit withal
+But the plain devil and dissembling looks ,
+And yet to win her , all the world to nothing !
+Ha !
+Hath she forgot already that brave prince ,
+Edward , her lord , whom I , some three months since ,
+Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury ?
+A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman ,
+Fram'd in the prodigality of nature ,
+Young , valiant , wise , and , no doubt , right royal ,
+The spacious world cannot again afford :
+And will she yet abase her eyes on me ,
+That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet prince ,
+And made her widow to a woeful bed ?
+On me , whose all not equals Edward's moiety ?
+On me , that halt and am misshapen thus ?
+My dukedom to a beggarly denier
+I do mistake my person all this while :
+Upon my life , she finds , although I cannot ,
+Myself to be a marvellous proper man .
+I'll be at charges for a looking-glass ,
+And entertain a score or two of tailors ,
+To study fashions to adorn my body :
+Since I am crept in favour with myself ,
+I will maintain it with some little cost .
+But first I'll turn yon fellow in his grave ,
+And then return lamenting to my love .
+Shine out , fair sun , till I have bought a glass ,
+That I may see my shadow as I pass .
+
+
+Have patience , madam : there's no doubt his majesty
+Will soon recover his accustom'd health .
+
+In that you brook it ill , it makes him worse :
+Therefore , for God's sake , entertain good comfort ,
+And cheer his Grace with quick and merry words .
+
+If he were dead , what would betide on me ?
+
+No other harm but loss of such a lord .
+
+The loss of such a lord includes all harms .
+
+The heavens have bless'd you with a goodly son ,
+To be your comforter when he is gone .
+
+Ah ! he is young ; and his minority
+Is put into the trust of Richard Gloucester ,
+A man that loves not me , nor none of you .
+
+Is it concluded he shall be protector ?
+
+It is determin'd , not concluded yet :
+But so it must be if the king miscarry .
+
+
+Here come the Lords of Buckingham and Stanley .
+
+Good time of day unto your royal Grace !
+
+God make your majesty joyful as you have been !
+
+The Countess Richmond , good my Lord of Stanley ,
+To your good prayer will scarcely say amen .
+Yet , Stanley , notwithstanding she's your wife ,
+And loves not me , be you , good lord , assur'd
+I hate not you for her proud arrogance .
+
+I do beseech you , either not believe
+The envious slanders of her false accusers ;
+Or , if she be accus'd on true report ,
+Bear with her weakness , which , I think , proceeds
+From wayward sickness , and no grounded malice .
+
+Saw you the king to-day , my Lord of Stanley ?
+
+But now the Duke of Buckingham and I ,
+Are come from visiting his majesty .
+
+What likelihood of his amendment , lords ?
+
+Madam , good hope ; his Grace speaks cheerfully .
+
+God grant him health ! did you confer with him ?
+
+Ay , madam : he desires to make atonement
+Between the Duke of Gloucester and your brothers ,
+And between them and my lord chamberlain ;
+And sent to warn them to his royal presence .
+
+Would all were well ! But that will never be .
+I fear our happiness is at the highest .
+
+
+They do me wrong , and I will not endure it :
+Who are they that complain unto the king ,
+That I , forsooth , am stern and love them not ?
+By holy Paul , they love his Grace but lightly
+That fill his ears with such dissentious rumours .
+Because I cannot flatter and speak fair ,
+Smile in men's faces , smooth , deceive , and cog ,
+Duck with French nods and apish courtesy ,
+I must be held a rancorous enemy .
+Cannot a plain man live and think no harm ,
+But thus his simple truth must be abus'd
+By silken , sly , insinuating Jacks ?
+
+To whom in all this presence speaks your Grace ?
+
+To thee , that hast nor honesty nor grace .
+When have I injur'd thee ? when done thee wrong ?
+Or thee ? or thee ? or any of your faction ?
+A plague upon you all ! His royal person ,
+Whom God preserve better than you would wish !
+Cannot be quiet scarce a breathing-while ,
+But you must trouble him with lewd complaints .
+
+Brother of Gloucester , you mistake the matter .
+The king , on his own royal disposition ,
+And not provok'd by any suitor else ,
+Aiming , belike , at your interior hatred ,
+That in your outward action shows itself
+Against my children , brothers , and myself ,
+Makes him to send ; that thereby he may gather
+The ground of your ill-will , and so remove it .
+
+I cannot tell ; the world is grown so bad
+That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch :
+Since every Jack became a gentleman
+There's many a gentle person made a Jack .
+
+Come , come , we know your meaning , brother Gloucester ;
+You envy my advancement and my friends' .
+God grant we never may have need of you !
+
+Meantime , God grants that we have need of you :
+Our brother is imprison'd by your means ,
+Myself disgrac'd , and the nobility
+Held in contempt ; while great promotions
+Are daily given to ennoble those
+That scarce , some two days since , were worth a noble .
+
+By him that rais'd me to this careful height
+From that contented hap which I enjoy'd ,
+I never did incense his majesty
+Against the Duke of Clarence , but have been
+An earnest advocate to plead for him .
+My lord , you do me shameful injury ,
+Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects .
+
+You may deny that you were not the mean
+Of my Lord Hastings' late imprisonment .
+
+She may , my lord ; for
+
+She may , Lord Rivers ! why , who knows not so ?
+She may do more , sir , than denying that :
+She may help you to many fair preferments ,
+And then deny her aiding hand therein ,
+And lay those honours on your high deserts .
+What may she not ? She may ,ay , marry , may she ,
+
+What , marry , may she ?
+
+What , marry , may she ! marry with a king ,
+A bachelor , a handsome stripling too .
+I wis your grandam had a worser match .
+
+My Lord of Gloucester , I have too long borne
+Your blunt upbraidings and your bitter scoffs ;
+By heaven , I will acquaint his majesty
+Of those gross taunts that oft I have endur'd .
+I had rather be a country servantmaid
+Than a great queen , with this condition ,
+To be so baited , scorn'd , and stormed at :
+Small joy have I in being England's queen .
+
+
+And lessen'd be that small , God , I beseech him !
+Thy honour , state , and seat is due to me .
+
+What ! threat you me with telling of the king ?
+Tell him , and spare not : look , what I have said
+I will avouch in presence of the king :
+I dare adventure to be sent to the Tower .
+'Tis time to speak ; my pains are quite forgot .
+
+Out , devil ! I remember them too well :
+Thou kill'dst my husband Henry in the Tower ,
+And Edward , my poor son , at Tewksbury .
+
+Ere you were queen , ay , or your husband king ,
+I was a pack-horse in his great affairs ,
+A weeder-out of his proud adversaries ,
+A liberal rewarder of his friends ;
+To royalize his blood I split mine own .
+
+Ay , and much better blood than his , or thine .
+
+In all which time you and your husband Grey
+Were factious for the house of Lancaster ;
+And , Rivers , so were you . Was not your husband
+In Margaret's battle at Saint Alban's slain ?
+Let me put in your minds , if you forget ,
+What you have been ere now , and what you are ;
+Withal , what I have been , and what I am .
+
+A murderous villain , and so still thou art .
+
+Poor Clarence did forsake his father , Warwick ,
+Ay , and forswore himself ,which Jesu pardon !
+
+Which God revenge !
+
+To fight on Edward's party for the crown ;
+And for his meed , poor lord , he is mew'd up .
+I would to God my heart were flint , like Edward's ;
+Or Edward's soft and pitiful , like mine :
+I am too childish-foolish for this world .
+
+Hie thee to hell for shame , and leave this world ,
+Thou cacodemon ! there thy kingdom is .
+
+My Lord of Gloucester , in those busy days
+Which here you urge to prove us enemies ,
+We follow'd then our lord , our lawful king ;
+So should we you , if you should be our king .
+
+If I should be ! I had rather be a pedlar .
+Far be it from my heart the thought thereof !
+
+As little joy , my lord , as you suppose
+You should enjoy , were you this country's king ,
+As little joy you may suppose in me
+That I enjoy , being the queen thereof .
+
+As little joy enjoys the queen thereof ;
+For I am she , and altogether joyless .
+I can no longer hold me patient .
+
+Hear me , you wrangling pirates , that fall out
+In sharing that which you have pill'd from me !
+Which of you trembles not that looks on me ?
+If not , that , I being queen , you bow like subjects ,
+Yet that , by you depos'd , you quake like rebels ?
+Ah ! gentle villain , do not turn away .
+
+Foul wrinkled witch , what mak'st thou in my sight ?
+
+But repetition of what thou hast marr'd ;
+That will I make before I let thee go .
+
+Wert thou not banished on pain of death ?
+
+I was ; but I do find more pain in banishment
+Than death can yield me here by my abode .
+A husband and a son thou ow'st to me ;
+And thou , a kingdom ; all of you , allegiance :
+This sorrow that I have by right is yours ,
+And all the pleasures you usurp are mine .
+
+The curse my noble father laid on thee ,
+When thou didst crown his war-like brows with paper ,
+And with thy scorns drew'st rivers from his eyes ;
+And then , to dry them , gav'st the duke a clout
+Steep'd in the faultless blood of pretty Rutland ;
+His curses , then from bitterness of soul
+Denounc'd against thee , are all fall'n upon thee ;
+And God , not we , hath plagu'd thy bloody deed .
+
+So just is God , to right the innocent
+
+O ! 'twas the foulest deed to slay that babe ,
+And the most merciless , that e'er was heard of .
+
+Tyrants themselves wept when it was reported .
+
+No man but prophesied revenge for it .
+
+Northumberland , then present , wept to see it .
+
+What ! were you snarling all before I came ,
+Ready to catch each other by the throat ,
+And turn you all your hatred now on me ?
+Did York's dread curse prevail so much with heaven
+That Henry's death , my lovely Edward's death ,
+Their kingdom's loss , my woeful banishment ,
+Should all but answer for that peevish brat ?
+Can curses pierce the clouds and enter heaven ?
+Why then , give way , dull clouds , to my quick curses !
+Though not by war , by surfeit die your king ,
+As ours by murder , to make him a king !
+Edward , thy son , that now is Prince of Wales ,
+For Edward , my son , which was Prince of Wales ,
+Die in his youth by like untimely violence !
+Thyself a queen , for me that was a queen ,
+Outlive thy glory , like my wretched self !
+Long mayst thou live to wail thy children's loss ,
+And see another , as I see thee now ,
+Deck'd in thy rights , as thou art stall'd in mine !
+Long die thy happy days before thy death ;
+And , after many lengthen'd hours of grief ,
+Die neither mother , wife , nor England's queen !
+Rivers , and Dorset , you were standers by ,
+And so wast thou , Lord Hastings ,when my son
+Was stabb'd with bloody daggers : God , I pray him ,
+That none of you may live your natural age ,
+But by some unlook'd accident cut off .
+
+Have done thy charm , thou hateful wither'd hag !
+
+And leave out thee ? stay , dog , for thou shalt hear me .
+If heaven have any grievous plague in store
+Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee ,
+O ! let them keep it till thy sins be ripe ,
+And then hurl down their indignation
+On thee , the troubler of the poor world's peace .
+The worm of conscience still begnaw thy soul !
+Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou liv'st
+And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends !
+No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine ,
+Unless it be while some tormenting dream
+Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils !
+Thou elvish-mark'd , abortive , rooting hog !
+Thou that wast seal'd in thy nativity
+The slave of nature and the son of hell !
+Thou slander of thy mother's heavy womb !
+Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins !
+Thou rag of honour ! thou detested
+
+Margaret !
+
+Richard !
+
+Ha !
+
+I call thee not .
+
+I cry thee mercy then , for I did think
+That thou hadst call'd me all these bitter names .
+
+Why , so I did ; but look'd for no reply .
+O ! let me make the period to my curse .
+
+'Tis done by me , and ends in 'Margaret .'
+
+Thus have you breath'd your curso against yourself .
+
+Poor painted queen , vain flourish of my fortune !
+Why strew'st thou sugar on that bottled spider ,
+Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about ?
+Fool , fool ! thou whet'st a knife to kill thyself .
+The day will come that thou shalt wish for me
+To help thee curse this pois'nous bunch-back'd toad .
+
+False-boding woman , end thy frantic curse ,
+Lest to thy harm thou move our patience .
+
+Foul shame upon you ! you have all mov'd mine .
+
+Were you well serv'd , you would be taught your duty .
+
+To serve me well , you all should do me duty ,
+Teach me to be your queen , and you my subjects :
+O ! serve me well , and teach yourselves that duty .
+
+Dispute not with her , she is lunatic .
+
+Peace ! Master marquess , you are malapert :
+Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce current .
+O ! that your young nobility could judge
+What 'twere to lose it , and be miserable !
+They that stand high have many blasts to shake them ,
+And if they fall , they dash themselves to pieces .
+
+Good counsel , marry : learn it , learn it , marquess .
+
+It touches you , my lord , as much as me .
+
+Ay , and much more ; but I was born so high ,
+Our aery buildeth in the cedar's top ,
+And dallies with the wind , and scorns the sun .
+
+And turns the sun to shade ; alas ! alas !
+Witness my son , now in the shade of death ;
+Whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy wrath
+Hath in eternal darkness folded up .
+Your aery buildeth in our aery's nest :
+O God ! that seest it , do not suffer it ;
+As it was won with blood , lost be it so !
+
+Peace , peace ! for shame , if not for charity .
+
+Urge neither charity nor shame to me :
+Uncharitably with me have you dealt ,
+And shamefully my hopes by you are butcher'd .
+My charity is outrage , life my shame ;
+And in that shame still live my sorrow's rage !
+
+Have done , have done .
+
+O princely Buckingham ! I'll kiss thy hand ,
+In sign of league and amity with thee :
+Now fair befall thee and thy noble house !
+Thy garments are not spotted with our blood ,
+Nor thou within the compass of my curse .
+
+Nor no one here ; for curses never pass
+The lips of those that breathe them in the air .
+
+I will not think but they ascend the sky ,
+And there awake God's gentle-sleeping peace .
+O Buckingham ! take heed of yonder dog :
+Look , when he fawns , he bites ; and when he bites
+His venom tooth will rankle to the death :
+Have not to do with him , beware of him ;
+Sin , death and hell have set their marks on him ,
+And all their ministers attend on him .
+
+What doth she say , my Lord of Buckingham ?
+
+Nothing that I respect , my gracious lord .
+
+What ! dost thou scorn me for my gentle counsel ,
+And soothe the devil that I warn thee from ?
+O ! but remember this another day ,
+When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow ,
+And say poor Margaret was a prophetess .
+Live each of you the subject to his hate ,
+And he to yours , and all of you to God's !
+
+
+My hair doth stand on end to hear her curses .
+
+And so doth mine . I muse why she's at liberty .
+
+I cannot blame her : by God's holy mother ,
+She hath had too much wrong , and I repent
+My part thereof that I have done to her .
+
+I never did her any , to my knowledge .
+
+Yet you have all the vantage of her wrong .
+I was too hot to do somebody good ,
+That is too cold in thinking of it now .
+Marry , as for Clarence , he is well repaid ;
+He is frank'd up to fatting for his pains :
+God pardon them that are the cause thereof !
+
+A virtuous and a Christian-like conclusion ,
+To pray for them that have done scath to us .
+
+So do I ever
+
+being well-advis'd ;
+For had I curs'd now , I had curs'd myself .
+
+
+Madam , his majesty doth call for you ;
+And for your Grace ; and you , my noble lords .
+
+Catesby , I come . Lords , will you go with me ?
+
+We wait upon your Grace .
+
+
+I do the wrong , and first begin to brawl .
+The secret mischiefs that I set abroach
+I lay unto the grievous charge of others .
+Clarence , whom I , indeed , have cast in darkness ,
+I do beweep to many simple gulls ;
+Namely , to Stanley , Hastings , Buckingham ;
+And tell them 'tis the queen and her allies
+That stir the king against the duke my brother .
+Now they believe it ; and withal whet me
+To be reveng'd on Rivers , Vaughan , Grey ;
+But then I sigh , and , with a piece of scripture ,
+Tell them that God bids us do good for evil :
+And thus I clothe my naked villany
+With odd old ends stol'n forth of holy writ ,
+And seem a saint when most I play the devil .
+
+
+But soft ! here come my executioners .
+How now , my hardy , stout resolved mates !
+
+Are you now going to dispatch this thing ?
+
+We are , my lord ; and come to have the warrant ,
+That we may be admitted where he is .
+
+Well thought upon ; I have it here about me :
+
+When you have done , repair to Crosby-place .
+But , sirs , be sudden in the execution ,
+Withal obdurate , do not hear him plead ;
+For Clarence is well-spoken , and perhaps
+May move your hearts to pity , if you mark him .
+
+Tut , tut , my lord , we will not stand to prate ;
+Talkers are no good doers : be assur'd
+We go to use our hands and not our tongues .
+
+Your eyes drop millstones , when fools' eyes fall tears :
+I like you , lads ; about your business straight ;
+Go , go , dispatch .
+
+We will , my noble lord .
+
+
+Why looks your Grace so heavily to-day ?
+
+O , I have pass'd a miserable night ,
+So full of ugly sights , of ghastly dreams ,
+That , as I am a Christian faithful man ,
+I would not spend another such a night ,
+Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days ,
+So full of dismal terror was the time .
+
+What was your dream , my lord ? I pray you , tell me .
+
+Methought that I had broken from the Tower ,
+And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy ;
+And in my company my brother Gloucester ,
+Who from my cabin tempted me to walk
+Upon the hatches : thence we look'd toward England ,
+And cited up a thousand heavy times ,
+During the wars of York and Lancaster ,
+That had befall'n us . As we pac'd along
+Upon the giddy footing of the hatches ,
+Methought that Gloucester stumbled ; and , in falling ,
+Struck me , that thought to stay him , overboard ,
+Into the tumbling billows of the main .
+Lord , Lord ! methought what pain it was to drown :
+What dreadful noise of water in mine ears !
+What sights of ugly death within mine eyes !
+Methought I saw a thousand fearful wracks ;
+A thousand men that fishes gnaw'd upon ;
+Wedges of gold , great anchors , heaps of pearl ,
+Inestimable stones , unvalu'd jewels ,
+All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea .
+Some lay in dead men's skulls ; and in those holes
+Where eyes did once inhabit , there were crept ,
+As 'twere in scorn of eyes , reflecting gems ,
+That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep ,
+And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by .
+
+Had you such leisure in the time of death
+To gaze upon those secrets of the deep ?
+
+Methought I had ; and often did I strive
+To yield the ghost ; but still the envious flood
+Stopt in my soul , and would not let it forth
+To find the empty , vast , and wandering air ;
+But smother'd it within my panting bulk ,
+Which almost burst to belch it in the sea .
+
+Awak'd you not with this sore agony ?
+
+No , no , my dream was lengthen'd after life ;
+O ! then began the tempest to my soul .
+I pass'd , methought , the melancholy flood ,
+With that grim ferryman which poets write of ,
+Unto the kingdom of perpetual night .
+The first that there did greet my stranger soul ,
+Was my great father-in-law , renowned Warwick ;
+Who cried aloud , 'What scourge for perjury
+Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence ?'
+And so he vanish'd : then came wandering by
+A shadow like an angel , with bright hair
+Dabbled in blood ; and he shriek'd out aloud ,
+'Clarence is come ,false , fleeting , perjur'd Clarence ,
+That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury ;
+Seize on him ! Furies , take him unto torment .'
+With that , methought , a legion of foul fiends
+Environ'd me , and howled in mine ears
+Such hideous cries , that , with the very noise
+I trembling wak'd , and , for a season after
+Could not believe but that I was in hell ,
+Such terrible impression made my dream .
+
+No marvel , lord , though it affrighted you ;
+I am afraid , methinks , to hear you tell it .
+
+O Brakenbury ! I have done these things
+That now give evidence against my soul ,
+For Edward's sake ; and see how he requites me .
+O God ! if my deep prayers cannot appease thee ,
+But thou wilt be aveng'd on my misdeeds ,
+Yet execute thy wrath on me alone :
+O ! spare my guiltless wife and my poor children .
+I pray thee , gentle keeper , stay by me ;
+My soul is heavy , and I fain would sleep .
+
+I will , my lord . God give your Grace good rest !
+
+Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours ,
+Makes the night morning , and the noon-tide night .
+Princes have but their titles for their glories ,
+An outward honour for an inward toil ;
+And , for unfelt imaginations ,
+They often feel a world of restless cares :
+So that , between their titles and low names ,
+There's nothing differs but the outward fame .
+
+
+Ho ! who's here ?
+
+What wouldst thou , fellow ? and how cam'st thou hither ?
+
+I would speak with Clarence , and I came hither on my legs .
+
+What ! so brief ?
+
+'Tis better , sir , than to be tedious .
+Let him see our commission , and talk no more .
+
+
+I am , in this , commanded to deliver
+The noble Duke of Clarence to your hands :
+I will not reason what is meant hereby ,
+Because I will be guiltless of the meaning .
+There lies the duke asleep , and there the keys .
+I'll to the king ; and signify to him
+That thus I have resign'd to you my charge .
+
+You may , sir ; 'tis a point of wisdom : fare you well .
+
+
+What ! shall we stab him as he sleeps ?
+
+No ; he'll say 'twas done cowardly , when he wakes .
+
+When he wakes ! why , fool , he shall never wake till the judgment-day .
+
+Why , then he'll say we stabbed him sleeping .
+
+The urging of that word 'judgment' hath bred a kind of remorse in me .
+
+What ! art thou afraid ?
+
+Not to kill him , having a warrant for it ; but to be damn'd for killing him , from the which no warrant can defend me .
+
+I thought thou hadst been resolute .
+
+So I am , to let him live .
+
+I'll back to the Duke of Gloucester , and tell him so .
+
+Nay , I prithee , stay a little : I hope my holy humour will change ; it was wont to hold me but while one tells twenty .
+
+How dost thou feel thyself now ?
+
+Some certain dregs of conscience are yet within me .
+
+Remember our reward when the deed's done .
+
+'Zounds ! he dies : I had forgot the reward .
+
+Where's thy conscience now ?
+
+In the Duke of Gloucester's purse .
+
+So when he opens his purse to give us our reward , thy conscience flies out .
+
+'Tis no matter ; let it go : there's few or none will entertain it .
+
+What if it come to thee again ?
+
+I'll not meddle with it ; it makes a man a coward ; a man cannot steal , but it accuseth him ; a man cannot swear , but it checks him ; a man cannot lie with his neighbour's wife , but it detects him : 'tis a blushing shamefast spirit , that mutinies in a man's bosom ; it fills one full of obstacles ; it made me once restore a purse of gold that I found ; it beggars any man that keeps it ; it is turned out of all towns and cities for a dangerous thing ; and every man that means to live well , endeavours to trust to himself and live without it .
+
+'Zounds ! it is even now at my elbow , persuading me not to kill the duke .
+
+Take the devil in thy mind , and believe him not : he would insinuate with thee but to make thee sigh .
+
+Tut , I am strong-framed ; he cannot prevail with me .
+
+Spoke like a tall fellow that respects his reputation . Come , shall we to this gear ?
+
+Take him over the costard with the hilts of thy sword , and then throw him into the malmsey-butt in the next room .
+
+O , excellent device ! make a sop of him .
+
+Soft ! he wakes .
+
+Strike !
+
+No , we'll reason with him .
+
+Where art thou , keeper ? give me a cup of wine .
+
+You shall have wine enough , my lord , anon .
+
+In God's name , what art thou ?
+
+A man , as you are .
+
+But not , as I am , royal .
+
+Nor you , as we are , loyal .
+
+Thy voice is thunder , but thy looks are humble .
+
+My voice is now the king's , my looks mine own .
+
+How darkly , and how deadly dost thou speak !
+Your eyes do menace me : why look you pale ?
+Who sent you hither ? Wherefore do you come ?
+
+To , to , to
+
+To murder me ?
+
+Ay , ay .
+
+You scarcely have the hearts to tell me so ,
+And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it .
+Wherein , my friends , have I offended you ?
+
+Offended us you have not , but the king .
+
+I shall be reconcil'd to him again .
+
+Never , my lord ; therefore prepare to die .
+
+Are you call'd forth from out a world of men
+To slay the innocent ? What is my offence ?
+Where is the evidence that doth accuse me ?
+What lawful quest have given their verdict up
+Unto the frowning judge ? or who pronounc'd
+The bitter sentence of poor Clarence' death ?
+Before I be convict by course of law ,
+To threaten me with death is most unlawful .
+I charge you , as you hope to have redemption
+By Christ's dear blood shed for our grievous sins ,
+That you depart and lay no hands on me ;
+The deed you undertake is damnable .
+
+What we will do , we do upon command .
+
+And he that hath commanded is our king .
+
+Erroneous vassal ! the great King of kings
+Hath in the table of his law commanded
+That thou shalt do no murder : will you , then ,
+Spurn at his edict and fulfil a man's ?
+Take heed ; for he holds vengeance in his hand ,
+To hurl upon their heads that break his law .
+
+And that same vengeance doth he hurl on thee ,
+For false forswearing and for murder too :
+Thou didst receive the sacrament to fight
+In quarrel of the house of Lancaster .
+
+And , like a traitor to the name of God ,
+Didst break that vow , and , with thy treacherous blade
+Unripp'dst the bowels of thy sovereign's son .
+
+Whom thou wast sworn to cherish and defend .
+
+How canst thou urge God's dreadful law to us ,
+When thou hast broke it in such dear degree ?
+
+Alas ! for whose sake did I that ill deed ?
+For Edward , for my brother , for his sake :
+He sends you not to murder me for this ;
+For in that sin he is as deep as I .
+If God will be avenged for the deed ,
+O ! know you yet , he doth it publicly :
+Take not the quarrel from his powerful arm ;
+He needs no indirect or lawless course
+To cut off those that have offended him .
+
+Who made thee then a bloody minister ,
+When gallant-springing , brave Plantagenet ,
+That princely novice , was struck dead by thee ?
+
+My brother's love , the devil , and my rage .
+
+Thy brother's love , our duty , and thy fault ,
+Provoke us hither now to slaughter thee .
+
+If you do love my brother , hate not me ;
+I am his brother , and I love him well .
+If you are hir'd for meed , go back again ,
+And I will send you to my brother Gloucester ,
+Who shall reward you better for my life
+Than Edward will for tidings of my death .
+
+You are deceiv'd , your brother Gloucester hates you .
+
+O , no ! he loves me , and he holds me dear :
+Go you to him from me .
+
+Ay , so we will .
+
+Tell him , when that our princely father York
+Bless'd his three sons with his victorious arm ,
+And charg'd us from his soul to love each other ,
+He little thought of this divided friendship :
+Bid Gloucester think on this , and he will weep .
+
+Ay , millstones ; as he lesson'd us to weep .
+
+O ! do not slander him , for he is kind .
+
+Right ;
+As snow in harvest . Thou deceiv'st thyself :
+'Tis he that sends us to destroy you here .
+
+It cannot be ; for he bewept my fortune ,
+And hugg'd me in his arms , and swore , with sobs ,
+That he would labour my delivery .
+
+Why , so he doth , when he delivers you
+From this earth's thraldom to the joys of heaven .
+
+Make peace with God , for you must die , my lord .
+
+Hast thou that holy feeling in thy soul ,
+To counsel me to make my peace with God ,
+And art thou yet to thy own soul so blind ,
+That thou wilt war with God by murdering me ?
+O ! sirs , consider , he that set you on
+To do this deed , will hate you for the deed .
+
+What shall we do ?
+
+Relent and save your souls .
+
+Relent ! 'tis cowardly , and womanish .
+
+Not to relent , is beastly , savage , devilish .
+Which of you , if you were a prince's son ,
+Being pent from liberty , as I am now ,
+If two such murd'rers as yourselves came to you ,
+Would not entreat for life ?
+My friend , I spy some pity in thy looks ;
+O ! if thine eye be not a flatterer ,
+Come thou on my side , and entreat for me ,
+As you would beg , were you in my distress :
+A begging prince what beggar pities not ?
+
+Look behind you , my lord .
+
+Take that , and that : if all this will not do ,
+I'll drown you in the malmsey-butt within .
+
+
+A bloody deed , and desperately dispatch'd !
+How fain , like Pilate , would I wash my hands
+Of this most grievous murder .
+
+
+How now ! what mean'st thou , that thou help'st me not ?
+By heaven , the duke shall know how slack you have been .
+
+I would he knew that I had sav'd his brother !
+Take thou the fee , and tell him what I say ;
+For I repent me that the duke is slain .
+
+
+So do not I : go , coward as thou art .
+Well , I'll go hide the body in some hole ,
+Till that the duke give order for his burial :
+And when I have my meed , I will away ;
+For this will out , and here I must not stay .
+
+Why , so : now have I done a good day's work .
+You peers , continue this united league :
+I every day expect an embassage
+From my Redeemer to redeem me hence ;
+And more in peace my soul shall part to heaven ,
+Since I have made my friends at peace on earth .
+Rivers and Hastings , take each other's hand ;
+Dissemble not your hatred , swear your love .
+
+By heaven , my soul is purg'd from grudging hate ;
+And with my hand I seal my true heart's love .
+
+So thrive I , as I truly swear the like !
+
+Take heed , you dally not before your king ;
+Lest he that is the supreme King of kings
+Confound your hidden falsehood , and award
+Either of you to be the other's end .
+
+So prosper I , as I swear perfect love !
+
+And I , as I love Hastings with my heart !
+
+Madam , yourself are not exempt in this ,
+Nor you , son Dorset , Buckingham , nor you ;
+You have been factious one against the other .
+Wife , love Lord Hastings , let him kiss your hand ;
+And what you do , do it unfeignedly .
+
+There , Hastings ; I will never more remember
+Our former hatred , so thrive I and mine !
+
+Dorset , embrace him ; Hastings , love lord marquess .
+
+This interchange of love , I here protest ,
+Upon my part shall be inviolable .
+
+And so swear I .
+
+
+Now , princely Buckingham , seal thou this league
+With thy embracements to my wife's allies ,
+And make me happy in your unity .
+
+Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate
+Upon your Grace , but with all duteous love
+Doth cherish you and yours , God punish me
+With hate in those where I expect most love !
+When I have most need to employ a friend ,
+And most assured that he is a friend ,
+Deep , hollow , treacherous , and full of guile ,
+Be he unto me ! This do I beg of God ,
+When I am cold in love to you or yours .
+
+
+A pleasing cordial , princely Buckingham ,
+Is this thy vow unto my sickly heart .
+There wanteth now our brother Gloucester here
+To make the blessed period of this peace .
+
+And , in good time , here comes the noble duke .
+
+
+Good morrow to my sovereign king and queen ;
+And princely peers , a happy time of day !
+
+Happy , indeed , as we have spent the day .
+Gloucester , we have done deeds of charity ;
+Made peace of enmity , fair love of hate ,
+Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers .
+
+A blessed labour , my most sovereign lord .
+Among this princely heap , if any here ,
+By false intelligence , or wrong surmise ,
+Hold me a foe ;
+If I unwittingly , or in my rage ,
+Have aught committed that is hardly borne
+By any in this presence , I desire
+To reconcile me to his friendly peace :
+'Tis death to me to be at enmity ;
+I hate it , and desire all good men's love .
+First , madam , I entreat true peace of you ,
+Which I will purchase with my duteous service ;
+Of you , my noble cousin Buckingham ,
+If ever any grudge were lodg'd between us ;
+Of you , Lord Rivers , and Lord Grey , of you ,
+That all without desert have frown'd on me ;
+Of you , Lord Woodvile , and Lord Scales , of you ;
+Dukes , earls , lords , gentlemen ; indeed , of all .
+I do not know that Englishman alive
+With whom my soul is any jot at odds
+More than the infant that is born to-night :
+I thank my God for my humility .
+
+A holy day shall this be kept hereafter :
+I would to God all strifes were well compounded .
+My sov'reign lord , I do beseech your highness
+To take our brother Clarence to your grace .
+
+Why , madam , have I offer'd love for this ,
+To be so flouted in this royal presence ?
+Who knows not that the gentle duke is dead ?
+
+You do him injury to scorn his corse .
+
+Who knows not he is dead ! who knows he is ?
+
+All-seeing heaven , what a world is this !
+
+Look I so pale , Lord Dorset , as the rest ?
+
+Ay , my good lord ; and no man in the presence
+But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks .
+
+Is Clarence dead ? the order was revers'd .
+
+But he , poor man , by your first order died ,
+And that a winged Mercury did bear ;
+Some tardy cripple bore the countermand ,
+That came too lag to see him buried .
+God grant that some , less noble and less loyal ,
+Nearer in bloody thoughts , and not in blood ,
+Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did ,
+And yet go current from suspicion .
+
+
+A boon , my sov'reign , for my service done !
+
+I prithee , peace : my soul is full of sorrow .
+
+I will not rise , unless your highness hear me .
+
+Then say at once , what is it thou request'st .
+
+The forfeit , sovereign , of my servant's life ;
+Who slew to-day a riotous gentleman
+Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolk .
+
+Have I a tongue to doom my brother's death ,
+And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave ?
+My brother kill'd no man , his fault was thought ;
+And yet his punishment was bitter death .
+Who su'd to me for him ? who , in my wrath ,
+Kneel'd at my feet , and bade me be advis'd ?
+Who spoke of brotherhood ? who spoke of love ?
+Who told me how the poor soul did forsake
+The mighty Warwick , and did fight for me ?
+Who told me , in the field at Tewksbury ,
+When Oxford had me down , he rescu'd me ,
+And said , 'Dear brother , live , and be a king ?'
+Who told me , when we both lay in the field
+Frozen almost to death , how he did lap me
+Even in his garments ; and did give himself ,
+All thin and naked , to the numb cold night ?
+All this from my remembrance brutish wrath
+Sinfully pluck'd , and not a man of you
+Had so much grace to put it in my mind .
+But when your carters or your waiting-vassals
+Have done a drunken slaughter , and defac'd
+The precious image of our dear Redeemer ,
+You straight are on your knees for pardon , pardon ;
+And I , unjustly too , must grant it you ;
+But for my brother not a man would speak ,
+Nor I , ungracious , speak unto myself
+For him , poor soul . The proudest of you all
+Have been beholding to him in his life ,
+Yet none of you would once beg for his life .
+O God ! I fear , thy justice will take hold
+On me and you and mine and yours for this .
+Come , Hastings , help me to my closet . O ! poor Clarence !
+
+
+This is the fruit of rashness . Mark'd you not
+How that the guilty kindred of the queen
+Look'd pale when they did hear of Clarence' death ?
+O ! they did urge it still unto the king :
+God will revenge it . Come , lords ; will you go
+To comfort Edward with our company ?
+
+We wait upon your Grace .
+
+
+Good grandam , tell us , is our father dead ?
+
+No , boy .
+
+Why do you wring your hands , and beat your breast ,
+And cry 'O Clarence , my unhappy son ?'
+
+Why do you look on us , and shake your head ,
+And call us orphans , wretches , castaways ,
+If that our noble father be alive ?
+
+My pretty cousins , you mistake me much ;
+I do lament the sickness of the king ,
+As loath to lose him , not your father's death ;
+It were lost sorrow to wail one that's lost .
+
+Then , grandam , you conclude that he is dead .
+The king mine uncle is to blame for it :
+God will revenge it ; whom I will importune
+With earnest prayers all to that effect .
+
+And so will I .
+
+Peace , children , peace ! the king doth love you well :
+Incapable and shallow innocents ,
+You cannot guess who caus'd your father's death .
+
+Grandam , we can ; for my good uncle Gloucester
+Told me , the king , provok'd to't by the queen ,
+Devis'd impeachments to imprison him :
+And when my uncle told me so , he wept ,
+And pitied me , and kindly kiss'd my cheek ;
+Bade me rely on him , as on my father ,
+And he would love me dearly as his child .
+
+Ah ! that deceit should steal such gentle shape ,
+And with a virtuous vizard hide deep vice .
+He is my son , ay , and therein my shame ,
+Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit .
+
+Think you my uncle did dissemble , grandam ?
+
+Ay , boy .
+
+I cannot think it . Hark ! what noise is this ?
+
+
+Oh ! who shall hinder me to wail and weep ,
+To chide my fortune , and torment myself ?
+I'll join with black despair against my soul ,
+And to myself become an enemy .
+
+What means this scene of rude impatience ?
+
+To make an act of tragic violence :
+Edward , my lord , thy son , our king , is dead !
+Why grow the branches now the root is wither'd ?
+Why wither not the leaves that want their sap ?
+If you will live , lament : if die , be brief ,
+That our swift-winged souls may catch the king's ;
+Or , like obedient subjects , follow him
+To his new kingdom of perpetual rest .
+
+Ah ! so much interest have I in thy sorrow
+As I had title in thy noble husband .
+I have bewept a worthy husband's death ,
+And liv'd with looking on his images ;
+But now two mirrors of his princely semblance
+Are crack'd in pieces by malignant death ,
+And I for comfort have but one false glass ,
+That grieves me when I see my shame in him .
+Thou art a widow ; yet thou art a mother ,
+And hast the comfort of thy children left thee :
+But death hath snatch'd my husband from mine arms ,
+And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble limbs ,
+Clarence and Edward . O ! what cause have I
+Thine being but a moiety of my grief
+To overgo thy plaints , and drown thy cries !
+
+Ah , aunt , you wept not for our father's death ;
+How can we aid you with our kindred tears ?
+
+Our fatherless distress was left unmoan'd ;
+Your widow-dolour likewise be unwept .
+
+Give me no help in lamentation ;
+I am not barren to bring forth complaints :
+All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes ,
+That I , being govern'd by the wat'ry moon ,
+May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world !
+Ah ! for my husband , for my dear Lord Edward !
+
+Ah ! for our father , for our dear Lord Clarence !
+
+Alas ! for both , both mine , Edward and Clarence !
+
+What stay had I but Edward ? and he's gone .
+
+What stay had we but Clarence ? and he's gone .
+
+What stays had I but they ? and they are gone .
+
+Was never widow had so dear a loss .
+
+Were never orphans had so dear a loss .
+
+Was never mother had so dear a loss .
+Alas ! I am the mother of these griefs :
+Their woes are parcell'd , mine are general .
+She for an Edward weeps , and so do I ;
+I for a Clarence weep , so doth not she :
+These babes for Clarence weep , and so do I ;
+I for an Edward weep , so do not they :
+Alas ! you three , on me , threefold distress'd ,
+Pour all your tears ; I am your sorrow's nurse ,
+And I will pamper it with lamentation .
+
+Comfort , dear mother : God is much displeas'd
+That you take with unthankfulness his doing .
+In common worldly things 'tis call'd ungrateful
+With dull unwillingness to repay a debt
+Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent ;
+Much more to be thus opposite with heaven ,
+For it requires the royal debt it lent you .
+
+Madam , bethink you , like a careful mother ,
+Of the young prince your son : send straight for him ;
+Let him be crown'd ; in him your comfort lives .
+Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward's grave ,
+And plant your joys in living Edward's throne .
+
+
+Sister , have comfort : all of us have cause
+To wail the dimming of our shining star ;
+But none can cure their harms by wailing them .
+Madam , my mother , I do cry you mercy ;
+I did not see your Grace : humbly on my knee
+I crave your blessing .
+
+God bless thee ! and put meekness in thy mind ,
+Love , charity , obedience , and true duty .
+
+Amen ;
+
+and make me die a good old man !
+That is the butt-end of a mother's blessing ;
+I marvel that her Grace did leave it out .
+
+You cloudy princes and heart-sorrowing peers ,
+That bear this heavy mutual load of moan ,
+Now cheer each other in each other's love :
+Though we have spent our harvest of this king ,
+We are to reap the harvest of his son .
+The broken rancour of your high-swoln hearts ,
+But lately splinter'd , knit , and join'd together ,
+Must gently be preserv'd , cherish'd , and kept :
+Me seemeth good , that , with some little train ,
+Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be fetch'd
+Hither to London , to be crown'd our king .
+
+Why with some little train , my Lord of Buckingham ?
+
+Marry , my lord , lest , by a multitude ,
+The new-heal'd wound of malice should break out ;
+Which would be so much the more dangerous ,
+By how much the estate is green and yet ungovern'd ;
+Where every horse bears his commanding rein ,
+And may direct his course as please himself ,
+As well the fear of harm , as harm apparent ,
+In my opinion , ought to be prevented .
+
+I hope the king made peace with all of us ;
+And the compact is firm and true in me .
+
+And so in me ; and so , I think , in all :
+Yet , since it is but green , it should be put
+To no apparent likelihood of breach ,
+Which haply by much company might be urg'd :
+Therefore I say with noble Buckingham ,
+That it is meet so few should fetch the prince .
+
+And so say I .
+
+Then be it so ; and go we to determine
+Who they shall be that straight shall post to Ludlow .
+Madam , and you my mother , will you go
+To give your censures in this business ?
+
+
+My lord , whoever journeys to the prince ,
+For God's sake , let not us two stay at home :
+For by the way I'll sort occasion ,
+As index to the story we late talk'd of ,
+To part the queen's proud kindred from the prince .
+
+My other self , my counsel's consistory ,
+My oracle , my prophet ! My dear cousin ,
+I , as a child , will go by thy direction .
+Towards Ludlow then , for we'll not stay behind .
+
+
+Good morrow , neighbour : whither away so fast ?
+
+I promise you , I scarcely know myself :
+Hear you the news abroad ?
+
+Ay ; that the king is dead .
+
+Ill news , by'r lady ; seldom comes the better :
+I fear , I fear , 'twill prove a giddy world .
+
+
+Neighbours , God speed !
+
+Give you good morrow , sir .
+
+Doth the news hold of good King Edward's death ?
+
+Ay , sir , it is too true ; God help the while !
+
+Then , masters , look to see a troublous world .
+
+No , no ; by God's good grace , his son shall reign .
+
+Woe to that land that's govern'd by a child !
+
+In him there is a hope of government ,
+That in his nonage council under him ,
+And in his full and ripen'd years himself ,
+No doubt , shall then and till then govern well .
+
+So stood the state when Henry the Sixth
+Was crown'd at Paris but at nine months old .
+
+Stood the state so ? no , no , good friends , God wot ;
+For then this land was famously enrich'd
+With politic grave counsel ; then the king
+Had virtuous uncles to protect his Grace .
+
+Why , so hath this , both by his father and mother .
+
+Better it were they all came by his father ,
+Or by his father there were none at all ;
+For emulation , who shall now be nearest ,
+Will touch us all too near , if God prevent not .
+O ! full of danger is the Duke of Gloucester !
+And the queen's sons and brothers haught and proud ;
+And were they to be rul'd , and not to rule ,
+This sickly land might solace as before .
+
+Come , come , we fear the worst , all will be well .
+
+When clouds are seen , wise men put on their cloaks ;
+When great leaves fall , then winter is at hand ;
+When the sun sets , who doth not look for night ?
+Untimely storms make men expect a dearth .
+All may be well ; but , if God sort it so ,
+'Tis more than we deserve , or I expect .
+
+Truly , the hearts of men are full of fear :
+You cannot reason almost with a man
+That looks not heavily and full of dread .
+
+Before the days of change , still is it so :
+By a divine instinct men's minds mistrust
+Ensuing danger ; as , by proof , we see
+The waters swell before a boisterous storm .
+But leave it all to God . Whither away ?
+
+Marry , we were sent for to the justices .
+
+And so was I : I'll bear you company .
+
+
+Last night , I hear , they lay at Northampton ;
+At Stony-Stratford they do rest to-night :
+To-morrow , or next day , they will be here .
+
+I long with all my heart to see the prince .
+I hope he is much grown since last I saw him .
+
+But I hear , no ; they say my son of York
+Hath almost overta'en him in his growth .
+
+Ay , mother , but I would not have it so .
+
+Why , my young cousin , it is good to grow .
+
+Grandam , one night , as we did sit at supper ,
+My uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow
+More than my brother : 'Ay ,' quoth my uncle Gloucester ,
+'Small herbs have grace , great weeds do grow apace :'
+And since , methinks , I would not grow so fast ,
+Because sweet flowers are slow and weeds make haste .
+
+Good faith , good faith , the saying did not hold
+In him that did object the same to thee :
+He was the wretched'st thing when he was young ,
+So long a-growing , and so leisurely ,
+That , if his rule were true , he should be gracious .
+
+And so , no doubt , he is , my gracious madam .
+
+I hope he is ; but yet let mothers doubt .
+
+Now , by my troth , if I had been remember'd ,
+I could have given my uncle's grace a flout ,
+To touch his growth nearer than he touch'd mine .
+
+How , my young York ? I prithee , let me hear it .
+
+Marry , they say my uncle grew so fast ,
+That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old :
+'Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth .
+Grandam , this would have been a biting jest .
+
+I prithee , pretty York , who told thee this ?
+
+Grandam , his nurse .
+
+His nurse ! why , she was dead ere thou wast born .
+
+If 'twere not she , I cannot tell who told me .
+
+A parlous boy : go to , you are too shrewd .
+
+Good madam , be not angry with the child .
+
+Pitchers have ears .
+
+
+Here comes a messenger . What news ?
+
+Such news , my lord , as grieves me to report .
+
+How doth the prince ?
+
+Well , madam , and in health .
+
+What is thy news ?
+
+Lord Rivers and Lord Grey are sent to Pomfret ,
+With them Sir Thomas Vaughan , prisoners .
+
+Who hath committed them ?
+
+The mighty dukes ,
+Gloucester and Buckingham .
+
+For what offence ?
+
+The sum of all I can I have disclos'd :
+Why or for what the nobles were committed
+Is all unknown to me , my gracious lord .
+
+Ah me ! I see the ruin of my house !
+The tiger now hath seiz'd the gentle hind ;
+Insulting tyranny begins to jet
+Upon the innocent and aweless throne :
+Welcome , destruction , death , and massacre !
+I see , as in a map , the end of all .
+
+Accursed and unquiet wrangling days ,
+How many of you have mine eyes beheld !
+My husband lost his life to get the crown ,
+And often up and down my sons were toss'd ,
+For me to joy and weep their gain and loss :
+And being seated , and domestic broils
+Clean over-blown , themselves , the conquerors ,
+Make war upon themselves ; brother to brother ,
+Blood to blood , self against self : O ! preposterous
+And frantic outrage , end thy damned spleen ;
+Or let me die , to look on death no more .
+
+Come , come , my boy ; we will to sanctuary .
+Madam , farewell .
+
+Stay , I will go with you .
+
+You have no cause .
+
+My gracious lady , go ;
+And thither bear your treasure and your goods .
+For my part , I'll resign unto your Grace
+The seal I keep : and so betide to me
+As well I tender you and all of yours !
+Come ; I'll conduct you to the sanctuary .
+
+
+Welcome , sweet prince , to London , to your chamber .
+
+Welcome , dear cousin , my thoughts' sovereign ;
+The weary way hath made you melancholy .
+
+No , uncle ; but our crosses on the way
+Have made it tedious , wearisome , and heavy :
+I want more uncles here to welcome me .
+
+Sweet prince , the untainted virtue of your years
+Hath not yet div'd into the world's deceit :
+No more can you distinguish of a man
+Than of his outward show ; which , God he knows ,
+Seldom or never jumpeth with the heart .
+Those uncles which you want were dangerous ;
+Your Grace attended to their sugar'd words ,
+But look'd not on the poison of their hearts :
+God keep you from them , and from such false friends !
+
+God keep me from false friends ! but they were none .
+
+My lord , the Mayor of London comes to greet you .
+
+
+God bless your Grace with health and happy days !
+
+I thank you , good my lord ; and thank you all .
+I thought my mother and my brother York
+Would long ere this have met us on the way :
+Fie ! what a slug is Hastings , that he comes not
+To tell us whether they will come or no .
+
+
+And in good time here comes the sweating lord .
+
+Welcome , my lord . What , will our mother come ?
+
+On what occasion , God he knows , not I ,
+The queen your mother , and your brother York ,
+Have taken sanctuary : the tender prince
+Would fain have come with me to meet your Grace ,
+But by his mother was perforce withheld .
+
+Fie ! what an indirect and peevish course
+Is this of hers ! Lord Cardinal , will your Grace
+Persuade the queen to send the Duke of York
+Unto his princely brother presently ?
+If she deny , Lord Hastings , go with him ,
+And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce .
+
+My Lord of Buckingham , if my weak oratory
+Can from his mother win the Duke of York ,
+Anon expect him here ; but if she be obdurate
+To mild entreaties , God in heaven forbid
+We should infringe the holy privilege
+Of blessed sanctuary ! not for all this land
+Would I be guilty of so great a sin .
+
+You are too senseless-obstinate , my lord ,
+Too ceremonious and traditional :
+Weigh it but with the grossness of this age ,
+You break not sanctuary in seizing him .
+The benefit thereof is always granted
+To those whose dealings have deserv'd the place
+And those who have the wit to claim the place :
+This prince hath neither claim'd it , nor deserv'd it ;
+And therefore , in mine opinion , cannot have it :
+Then , taking him from thence that is not there ,
+You break no privilege nor charter there .
+Oft have I heard of sanctuary men ,
+But sanctuary children ne'er till now .
+
+My lord , you shall o'er-rule my mind for once .
+Come on , Lord Hastings , will you go with me ?
+
+I go , my lord .
+
+Good lords , make all the speedy haste you may .
+
+Say , uncle Gloucester , if our brother come ,
+Where shall we sojourn till our coronation ?
+
+Where it seems best unto your royal self .
+If I may counsel you , some day or two
+Your highness shall repose you at the Tower :
+Then where you please , and shall be thought most fit
+For your best health and recreation .
+
+I do not like the Tower , of any place :
+Did Julius C sar build that place , my lord ?
+
+He did , my gracious lord , begin that place ,
+Which , since , succeeding ages have re-edified .
+
+Is it upon record , or else reported
+Successively from age to age , he built it ?
+
+Upon record , my gracious lord .
+
+But say , my lord , it were not register'd ,
+Methinks the truth should live from age to age ,
+As 'twere retail'd to all posterity ,
+Even to the general all-ending day .
+
+So wise so young , they say , do never live long .
+
+What say you , uncle ?
+
+I say , without characters , fame lives long .
+
+
+Thus , like the formal Vice , Iniquity ,
+I moralize two meanings in one word .
+
+That Julius C sar was a famous man ;
+With what his valour did enrich his wit ,
+His wit set down to make his valour live :
+Death makes no conquest of this conqueror ,
+For now he lives in fame , though not in life .
+I'll tell you what , my cousin Buckingham ,
+
+What , my gracious lord ?
+
+An if I live until I be a man ,
+I'll win our ancient right in France again ,
+Or die a soldier , as I liv'd a king .
+
+Short summers lightly have a forward spring .
+
+
+Now , in good time , here comes the Duke of York .
+
+Richard of York ! how fares our loving brother ?
+
+Well , my dread lord ; so must I call you now .
+
+Ay , brother , to our grief , as it is yours :
+Too late he died that might have kept that title ,
+Which by his death hath lost much majesty .
+
+How fares our cousin , noble Lord of York ?
+
+I thank you , gentle uncle . O , my lord ,
+You said that idle weeds are fast in growth :
+The prince my brother hath outgrown me far .
+
+He hath , my lord .
+
+And therefore is he idle ?
+
+O , my fair cousin , I must not say so .
+
+Then he is more beholding to you than I .
+
+He may command me as my sovereign ;
+But you have power in me as in a kinsman .
+
+I pray you , uncle , give me this dagger .
+
+My dagger , little cousin ? with all my heart .
+
+A beggar , brother ?
+
+Of my kind uncle , that I know will give ;
+And , being but a toy , which is no grief to give .
+
+A greater gift than that I'll give my cousin .
+
+A greater gift ! O , that's the sword to it .
+
+Ay , gentle cousin , were it light enough .
+
+O , then , I see , you'll part but with light gifts ;
+In weightier things you'll say a beggar nay .
+
+It is too weighty for your Grace to wear .
+
+I weigh it lightly , were it heavier .
+
+What ! would you have my weapon , little lord ?
+
+I would , that I might thank you , as you call me .
+
+How ?
+
+Little .
+
+My Lord of York will still be cross in talk .
+Uncle , your Grace knows how to bear with him .
+
+You mean , to bear me , not to bear with me :
+Uncle , my brother mocks both you and me .
+Because that I am little , like an ape ,
+He thinks that you should bear me on your shoulders .
+
+With what a sharp provided with he reasons !
+To mitigate the scorn he gives his uncle ,
+He prettily and aptly taunts himself :
+So cunning and so young is wonderful .
+
+My lord , will't please you pass along ?
+Myself and my good cousin Buckingham
+Will to your mother , to entreat of her
+To meet you at the Tower and welcome you .
+
+What ! will you go unto the Tower , my lord ?
+
+My Lord Protector needs will have it so .
+
+I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tower .
+
+Why , what would you fear ?
+
+Marry , my uncle Clarence' angry ghost :
+My grandam told me he was murder'd there .
+
+I fear no uncles dead .
+
+Nor none that live , I hope .
+
+An if they live , I hope , I need not fear .
+But come , my lord ; and , with a heavy heart ,
+Thinking on them , go I unto the Tower .
+
+
+Think you , my lord , this little prating York
+Was not incensed by his subtle mother
+To taunt and scorn you thus opprobriously ?
+
+No doubt , no doubt : O ! 'tis a parlous boy ;
+Bold , quick , ingenious , forward , capable :
+He's all the mother's , from the top to toe .
+
+Well , let them rest . Come hither , Catesby ; thou art sworn
+As deeply to effect what we intend
+As closely to conceal what we impart .
+Thou know'st our reasons urg'd upon the way :
+What think'st thou ? is it not an easy matter
+To make William Lord Hastings of our mind ,
+For the instalment of this noble duke
+In the seat royal of this famous isle ?
+
+He for his father's sake so loves the prince
+That he will not be won to aught against him .
+
+What think'st thou then of Stanley ? what will he ?
+
+He will do all in all as Hastings doth .
+
+Well then , no more but this : go , gentle Catesby ,
+And , as it were far off , sound thou Lord Hastings ,
+How he doth stand affected to our purpose ;
+And summon him to-morrow to the Tower ,
+To sit about the coronation .
+If thou dost find him tractable to us ,
+Encourage him , and tell him all our reasons :
+If he be leaden , icy-cold , unwilling ,
+Be thou so too , and so break off the talk ,
+And give us notice of his inclination ;
+For we to-morrow hold divided councils ,
+Wherein thyself shalt highly be employ'd .
+
+Commend me to Lord William : tell him , Catesby ,
+His ancient knot of dangerous adversaries
+To-morrow are let blood at Pomfret Castle ;
+And bid my lord , for joy of this good news ,
+Give Mistress Shore one gentle kiss the more .
+
+Good Catesby , go , effect this business soundly .
+
+My good lords both , with all the heed I can .
+
+Shall we hear from you , Catesby , ere we sleep ?
+
+You shall , my lord .
+
+At Crosby-place , there shall you find us both .
+
+
+Now , my lord , what shall we do if we perceive
+Lord Hastings will not yield to our complots ?
+
+Chop off his head ; something we will determine :
+And , look , when I am king , claim thou of me
+The earldom of Hereford , and all the moveables
+Whereof the king my brother stood possess'd .
+
+I'll claim that promise at your Grace's hand .
+
+And look to have it yielded with all kindness .
+Come , let us sup betimes , that afterwards
+We may digest our complots in some form .
+
+
+My lord ! my lord !
+
+Who knocks ?
+
+One from the Lord Stanley .
+
+What is't o'clock ?
+
+Upon the stroke of four .
+
+
+Cannot my Lord Stanley sleep these tedious nights ?
+
+So it appears by that I have to say .
+First , he commends him to your noble self .
+
+What then ?
+
+Then certifies your lordship , that this night
+He dreamt the boar had razed off his helm :
+Besides , he says there are two councils held ;
+And that may be determin'd at the one
+Which may make you and him to rue at the other .
+Therefore he sends to know your lordship's pleasure ,
+If you will presently take horse with him ,
+And with all speed post with him towards the north ,
+To shun the danger that his soul divines .
+
+Go , fellow , go , return unto thy lord ;
+Bid him not fear the separated councils :
+His honour and myself are at the one ,
+And at the other is my good friend Catesby ;
+Where nothing can proceed that toucheth us
+Whereof I shall not have intelligence .
+Tell him his fears are shallow , wanting instance :
+And for his dreams , I wonder he's so fond
+To trust the mockery of unquiet slumbers .
+To fly the boar before the boar pursues ,
+Were to incense the boar to follow us
+And make pursuit where he did mean no chase .
+Go , bid thy master rise and come to me ;
+And we will both together to the Tower ,
+Where , he shall see , the boar will use us kindly .
+
+I'll go , my lord , and tell him what you say .
+
+Many good morrows to my noble lord !
+
+Good morrow , Catesby ; you are early stirring .
+What news , what news , in this our tottering state ?
+
+It is a reeling world , indeed , my lord ;
+And I believe will never stand upright
+Till Richard wear the garland of the realm .
+
+How ! wear the garland ! dost thou mean the crown ?
+
+Ay , my good lord .
+
+I'll have this crown of mine cut from my shoulders
+Before I'll see the crown so foul misplac'd .
+But canst thou guess that he doth aim at it ?
+
+Ay , on my life ; and hopes to find you forward
+Upon his party for the gain thereof :
+And thereupon he sends you this good news ,
+That this same very day your enemies ,
+The kindred of the queen , must die at Pomfret .
+
+Indeed , I am no mourner for that news ,
+Because they have been still my adversaries ;
+But that I'll give my voice on Richard's side ,
+To bar my master's heirs in true descent ,
+God knows I will not do it , to the death .
+
+God keep your lordship in that gracious mind !
+
+But I shall laugh at this a twelve-month hence ,
+That they which brought me in my master's hate ,
+I live to look upon their tragedy .
+Well , Catesby , ere a fortnight make me older ,
+I'll send some packing that yet think not on't .
+
+'Tis a vile thing to die , my gracious lord ,
+When men are unprepar'd and look not for it .
+
+O monstrous , monstrous ! and so falls it out
+With Rivers , Vaughan , Grey ; and so 'twill do
+With some men else , who think themselves as safe
+As thou and I ; who , as thou know'st , are dear
+To princely Richard and to Buckingham .
+
+The princes both make high account of you ;
+
+
+For they account his head upon the bridge .
+
+I know they do , and I have well deserv'd it .
+
+
+Come on , come on ; where is your boar-spear , man ?
+
+Fear you the boar , and go so unprovided ?
+
+My lord , good morrow ; good morrow Catesby :
+You may jest on , but by the holy rood ,
+I do not like these several councils , I .
+
+My lord , I hold my life as dear as you do yours ;
+And never , in my days , I do protest ,
+Was it so precious to me as 'tis now .
+Think you , but that I know our state secure ,
+I would be so triumphant as I am ?
+
+The lords at Pomfret , when they rode from London ,
+Were jocund and suppos'd their state was sure ,
+And they indeed had no cause to mistrust ;
+But yet you see how soon the day o'ercast .
+This sudden stab of rancour I misdoubt ;
+Pray God , I say , I prove a needless coward !
+What , shall we toward the Tower ? the day is spent .
+
+Come , come , have with you . Wot you what , my lord ?
+To-day the lords you talk of are beheaded .
+
+They , for their truth , might better wear their heads ,
+Than some that have accus'd them wear their hats .
+But come , my lord , let's away .
+
+
+Go on before ; I'll talk with this good fellow .
+
+How now , sirrah ! how goes the world with thee ?
+
+The better that your lordship please to ask .
+
+I tell thee , man , 'tis better with me now
+Than when I met thee last where now we meet :
+Then was I going prisoner to the Tower ,
+By the suggestion of the queen's allies ;
+But now , I tell thee ,keep it to thyself ,
+This day those enemies are put to death ,
+And I in better state than e'er I was .
+
+God hold it to your honour's good content !
+
+Gramercy , fellow : there , drink that for me .
+
+
+God save your lordship .
+
+Well met , my lord ; I am glad to see your honour .
+
+I thank thee , good Sir John , with all my heart .
+I am in your debt for your last exercise ;
+Come the next Sabbath , and I will content you .
+
+
+What , talking with a priest , lord chamberlain ?
+Your friends at Pomfret , they do need the priest :
+Your honour hath no shriving work in hand .
+
+Good faith , and when I met this holy man ,
+The men you talk of came into my mind .
+What , go you toward the Tower ?
+
+I do , my lord ; but long I shall not stay :
+I shall return before your lordship thence .
+
+Nay , like enough , for I stay dinner there .
+
+And supper too , although thou know'st it not .
+Come , will you go ?
+
+I'll wait upon your lordship .
+
+
+Sir Richard Ratcliff , let me tell thee this :
+To-day shalt thou behold a subject die
+For truth , for duty , and for loyalty .
+
+God bless the prince from all the pack of you !
+A knot you are of damned blood suckers .
+
+You live that shall cry woe for this hereafter .
+
+Dispatch ; the limit of your lives is out .
+
+O Pomfret , Pomfret ! O thou bloody prison !
+Fatal and ominous to noble peers !
+Within the guilty closure of thy walls
+Richard the Second here was hack'd to death ;
+And , for more slander to thy dismal seat ,
+We give thee up our guitless blood to drink .
+
+Now Margaret's curse is fall'n upon our heads ,
+When she exclaim'd on Hastings , you , and I ,
+For standing by when Richard stabb'd her son .
+
+Then curs'd she Richard , then curs'd she Buckingham ,
+Then curs'd she Hastings : O ! remember , God ,
+To hear her prayer for them , as now for us ;
+And for my sister and her princely sons ,
+Be satisfied , dear God , with our true blood ,
+Which , as thou know'st , unjustly must be spilt .
+
+Make haste ; the hour of death is expiate .
+
+Come , Grey , come , Vaughan ; let us here embrace :
+And take our leave until we meet in heaven .
+
+My lords , at once : the cause why we are met
+Is to determine of the coronation :
+In God's name , speak , when is the royal day ?
+
+Are all things ready for that royal time ?
+
+It is ; and wants but nomination .
+
+To-morrow then I judge a happy day .
+
+Who knows the Lord Protector's mind herein ?
+Who is most inward with the noble duke ?
+
+Your Grace , we think , should soonest know his mind .
+
+We know each other's faces ; for our hearts ,
+He knows no more of mine than I of yours ;
+Nor I of his , my lord , than you of mine .
+Lord Hastings , you and he are near in love .
+
+I thank his Grace , I know he loves me well ;
+But , for his purpose in the coronation ,
+I have not sounded him , nor he deliver'd
+His gracious pleasure any way therein :
+But you , my noble lords , may name the time ;
+And in the duke's behalf I'll give my voice ,
+Which , I presume , he'll take in gentle part .
+
+
+In happy time , here comes the duke himself .
+
+My noble lords and cousins all , good morrow .
+I have been long a sleeper ; but , I trust ,
+My absence doth neglect no great design ,
+Which by my presence might have been concluded .
+
+Had you not come upon your cue , my lord ,
+William Lord Hastings had pronounc'd your part ,
+I mean , your voice , for crowning of the king .
+
+Than my Lord Hastings no man might be bolder :
+His lordship knows me well , and loves me well .
+My Lord of Ely , when I was last in Holborn ,
+I saw good strawberries in your garden there ;
+I do beseech you send for some of them .
+
+Marry , and will , my lord , with all my heart .
+
+
+Cousin of Buckingham , a word with you .
+
+Catesby hath sounded Hastings in our business ,
+And finds the testy gentleman so hot ,
+That he will lose his head ere give consent
+His master's child , as worshipfully he terms it ,
+Shall lose the royalty of England's throne .
+
+Withdraw yourself a while ; I'll go with you .
+
+
+We have not yet set down this day of triumph .
+To-morrow , in my judgment , is too sudden ;
+For I myself am not so well provided
+As else I would be , were the day prolong'd .
+
+
+Where is my lord , the Duke of Gloucester ?
+I have sent for these strawberries .
+
+His Grace looks cheerfully and smooth this morning :
+There's some conceit or other likes him well ,
+When that he bids good morrow with such spirit .
+I think there's never a man in Christendom
+Can lesser hide his hate or love than he ;
+For by his face straight shall you know his heart .
+
+What of his heart perceiv'd you in his face
+By any livelihood he show'd to-day ?
+
+Marry , that with no man here he is offended ;
+For , were he , he had shown it in his looks .
+
+
+I pray you all , tell me what they deserve
+That do conspire my death with devilish plots
+Of damned witchcraft , and that have prevail'd
+Upon my body with their hellish charms ?
+
+The tender love I bear your Grace , my lord ,
+Makes me most forward in this princely presence
+To doom th' offenders , whosoe'er they be :
+I say , my lord , they have deserved death .
+
+Then be your eyes the witness of their evil .
+Look how I am bewitch'd ; behold mine arm
+Is like a blasted sapling , wither'd up :
+And this is Edward's wife , that monstrous witch
+Consorted with that harlot strumpet Shore ,
+That by their witchcraft thus have marked me .
+
+If they have done this thing , my noble lord ,
+
+If ! thou protector of this damned strumpet ,
+Talk'st thou to me of ifs ? Thou art a traitor :
+Off with his head ! now , by Saint Paul , I swear ,
+I will not dine until I see the same .
+Lovel and Ratcliff , look that it be done :
+The rest , that love me , rise , and follow me .
+
+
+Woe , woe , for England ! not a whit for me ;
+For I , too fond , might have prevented this .
+Stanley did dream the boar did raze his helm ;
+And I did scorn it , and disdain'd to fly .
+Three times to-day my foot-cloth horse did stumble ,
+And startled when he looked upon the Tower ,
+As loath to bear me to the slaughter-house .
+O ! now I need the priest that spake to me :
+I now repent I told the pursuivant ,
+As too triumphing , how mine enemies
+To-day at Pomfret bloodily were butcher'd
+And I myself secure in grace and favour .
+O Margaret , Margaret ! now thy heavy curse
+Is lighted on poor Hastings' wretched head .
+
+Come , come , dispatch ; the duke would be at dinner :
+Make a short shrift , he longs to see your head .
+
+O momentary grace of mortal man ,
+Which we more hunt for than the grace of God !
+Who builds his hope in air of your good looks ,
+Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast ;
+Ready with every nod to tumble down
+Into the fatal bowels of the deep .
+
+Come , come , dispatch ; 'tis bootless to exclaim .
+
+O bloody Richard ! miserable England !
+I prophesy the fearfull'st time to thee
+That ever wretched age hath look'd upon .
+Come , lead me to the block ; bear him my head :
+They smile at me who shortly shall be dead .
+
+
+Come , cousin , canst thou quake , and change thy colour ,
+Murder thy breath in middle of a word ,
+And then again begin , and stop again ,
+As if thou wert distraught and mad with terror ?
+
+Tut ! I can counterfeit the deep tragedian ,
+Speak and look back , and pry on every side ,
+Tremble and start at wagging of a straw ,
+Intending deep suspicion : ghastly looks
+Are at my service , like enforced smiles ;
+And both are ready in their offices ,
+At any time , to grace my stratagems .
+But what ! is Catesby gone ?
+
+He is ; and , see , he brings the mayor along .
+
+
+Lord Mayor ,
+
+Look to the drawbridge there !
+
+Hark ! a drum .
+
+Catesby , o'erlook the walls .
+
+Lord Mayor , the reason we have sent ,
+
+Look back , defend thee ; here are enemies .
+
+God and our innocency defend and guard us !
+
+
+Be patient , they are friends , Ratcliff and Lovel .
+
+Here is the head of that ignoble traitor ,
+The dangerous and unsuspected Hastings .
+
+So dear I lov'd the man , that I must weep .
+I took him for the plainest harmless creature
+That breath'd upon the earth a Christian ;
+Made him my book , wherein my soul recorded
+The history of all her secret thoughts :
+So smooth he daub'd his vice with show of virtue ,
+That , his apparent open guilt omitted ,
+I mean his conversation with Shore's wife ,
+He liv'd from all attainder of suspect .
+
+Well , well , he was the covert'st shelter'd traitor
+That ever liv'd .
+Would you imagine , or almost believe ,
+Were't not that by great preservation
+We live to tell it , that the subtle traitor
+This day had plotted , in the council-house ,
+To murder me and my good Lord of Gloucester ?
+
+Had he done so ?
+
+What ! think you we are Turks or infidels ?
+Or that we would , against the form of law ,
+Proceed thus rashly in the villain's death ,
+But that the extreme peril of the case ,
+The peace of England and our person's safety ,
+Enforc'd us to this execution ?
+
+Now , fair befall you ! he deserv'd his death ;
+And your good Graces both have well proceeded ,
+To warn false traitors from the like attempts .
+I never look'd for better at his hands ,
+After he once fell in with Mistress Shore .
+
+Yet had we not determin'd he should die ,
+Until your lordship came to see his end ;
+Which now the loving haste of these our friends ,
+Something against our meaning , hath prevented :
+Because , my lord , we would have had you heard
+The traitor speak , and timorously confess
+The manner and the purpose of his treason ;
+That you might well have signified the same
+Unto the citizens , who haply may
+Misconster us in him , and wail his death .
+
+But , my good lord , your Grace's word shall serve ,
+As well as I had seen and heard him speak :
+And do not doubt , right noble princes both ,
+But I'll acquaint our duteous citizens
+With all your just proceedings in this cause .
+
+And to that end we wish'd your lordship here ,
+To avoid the censures of the carping world .
+
+But since you come too late of our intent ,
+Yet witness what you hear we did intend :
+And so , my good Lord Mayor , we bid farewell .
+
+
+Go , after , after , cousin Buckingham .
+The mayor towards Guildhall hies him in all post :
+There , at your meetest vantage of the time ,
+Infer the bastardy of Edward's children :
+Tell them how Edward put to death a citizen ,
+Only for saying he would make his son
+Heir to the crown ; meaning indeed his house ,
+Which by the sign thereof was termed so .
+Moreover , urge his hateful luxury
+And bestial appetite in change of lust ;
+Which stretch'd unto their servants , daughters , wives ,
+Even where his raging eye or savage heart
+Without control lusted to make a prey .
+Nay , for a need , thus far come near my person :
+Tell them , when that my mother went with child
+Of that insatiate Edward , noble York
+My princely father then had wars in France ;
+And , by true computation of the time ,
+Found that the issue was not his begot ;
+Which well appeared in his lineaments ,
+Being nothing like the noble duke my father .
+Yet touch this sparingly , as 'twere far off ;
+Because , my lord , you know my mother lives .
+
+Doubt not , my lord , I'll play the orator
+As if the golden fee for which I plead
+Were for myself : and so , my lord , adieu .
+
+If you thrive well , bring them to Baynard's Castle ;
+Where you shall find me well accompanied
+With reverend fathers and well-learned bishops .
+
+I go ; and towards three or four o'clock
+Look for the news that the Guildhall affords .
+
+
+Go , Lovel , with all speed to Doctor Shaw ;
+
+
+Go thou to Friar Penker ; bid them both
+Meet me within this hour at Baynard's Castle .
+
+Now will I in , to take some privy order ,
+To draw the brats of Clarence out of sight ;
+And to give notice that no manner person
+Have any time recourse unto the princes .
+
+
+Here is the indictment of the good Lord Hastings ;
+Which in a set hand fairly is engross'd ,
+That it may be to-day read o'er in Paul's :
+And mark how well the sequel hangs together .
+Eleven hours I have spent to write it over ,
+For yesternight by Catesby was it sent me .
+The precedent was full as long a-doing ;
+And yet within these five hours Hastings liv'd ,
+Untainted , unexamin'd , free , at liberty .
+Here's a good world the while ! Who is so gross
+That cannot see this palpable device ?
+Yet who so bold but says he sees it not ?
+Bad is the world ; and all will come to naught ,
+When such ill dealing must be seen in thought .
+
+
+How , now , how now ! what say the citizens ?
+
+Now , by the holy mother of our Lord ,
+The citizens are mum , say not a word .
+
+Touch'd you the bastardy of Edward's children ?
+
+I did ; with his contract with Lady Lucy ,
+And his contract by deputy in France ;
+The insatiate greediness of his desires ,
+And his enforcement of the city wives ;
+His tyranny for trifles ; his own bastardy ,
+As being got , your father then in France ,
+And his resemblance , being not like the duke :
+Withal I did infer your lineaments ,
+Being the right idea of your father ,
+Both in your form and nobleness of mind ;
+Laid open all your victories in Scotland ,
+Your discipline in war , wisdom in peace ,
+Your bounty , virtue , fair humility ;
+Indeed , left nothing fitting for your purpose
+Untouch'd or slightly handled in discourse ;
+And when my oratory drew toward end ,
+I bade them that did love their country's good
+Cry 'God save Richard , England's royal king !'
+
+And did they so ?
+
+No , so God help me , they spake not a word ;
+But , like dumb statuas or breathing stones ,
+Star'd each on other , and look'd deadly pale .
+Which when I saw , I reprehended them ;
+And ask'd the mayor what meant this wilful silence :
+His answer was , the people were not wont
+To be spoke to but by the recorder .
+Then he was urg'd to tell my tale again :
+'Thus saith the duke , thus hath the duke inferr'd ;'
+But nothing spoke in warrant from himself .
+When he had done , some followers of mine own ,
+At lower end of the hall , hurl'd up their caps ,
+And some ten voices cried , 'God save King Richard !'
+And thus I took the vantage of those few ,
+'Thanks , gentle citizens and friends ,' quoth I ;
+'This general applause and cheerful shout
+Argues your wisdom and your love to Richard :'
+And even here brake off , and came away .
+
+What tongueless blocks were they ! would they not speak ?
+Will not the mayor then and his brethren come ?
+
+The mayor is here at hand . Intend some fear ;
+Be not you spoke with but by mighty suit :
+And look you get a prayer-book in your hand ,
+And stand between two churchmen , good my lord :
+For on that ground I'll make a holy descant :
+And be not easily won to our requests ;
+Play the maid's part , still answer nay , and take it .
+
+I go ; and if you plead as well for them
+As I can say nay to thee for myself ,
+No doubt we bring it to a happy issue .
+
+Go , go , up to the leads ! the Lord Mayor knocks .
+
+Welcome , my lord : I dance attendance here ;
+I think the duke will not be spoke withal .
+
+
+Now , Catesby ! what says your lord to my request ?
+
+He doth entreat your Grace , my noble lord ,
+To visit him to-morrow or next day .
+He is within , with two right reverend fathers ,
+Divinely bent to meditation ;
+And in no worldly suit would he be mov'd ,
+To draw him from his holy exercise .
+
+Return , good Catesby , to the gracious duke :
+Tell him , myself , the mayor and aldermen ,
+In deep designs in matter of great moment ,
+No less importing than our general good ,
+Are come to have some conference with his Grace .
+
+I'll signify so much unto him straight .
+
+
+Ah , ha , my lord , this prince is not an Edward !
+He is not lolling on a lewd day-bed ,
+But on his knees at meditation ;
+Not dallying with a brace of courtezans ,
+But meditating with two deep divines ;
+Not sleeping , to engross his idle body ,
+But praying , to enrich his watchful soul .
+Happy were England , would this virtuous prince
+Take on his Grace the sovereignty thereof :
+But sore , I fear , we shall not win him to it .
+
+Marry , God defend his Grace should say us nay !
+
+I fear he will . Here Catesby comes again .
+
+Now , Catesby , what says his Grace ?
+
+He wonders to what end you have assembled
+Such troops of citizens to come to him ,
+His Grace not being warn'd thereof before :
+My lord , he fears you mean no good to him .
+
+Sorry I am my noble cousin should
+Suspect me that I mean no good to him .
+By heaven , we come to him in perfect love ;
+And so once more return , and tell his Grace .
+
+When holy and devout religious men
+Are at their beads , 'tis much to draw them thence ;
+So sweet is zealous contemplation .
+
+
+See , where his Grace stands 'tween two clergymen !
+
+Two props of virtue for a Christian prince ,
+To stay him from the fall of vanity ;
+And , see , a book of prayer in his hand ;
+True ornament to know a holy man .
+Famous Plantagenet , most gracious prince ,
+Lend favourable ear to our requests ,
+And pardon us the interruption
+Of thy devotion , and right Christian zeal .
+
+My lord , there needs no such apology ;
+I do beseech your Grace to pardon me ,
+Who , earnest in the service of my God ,
+Deferr'd the visitation of my friends .
+But , leaving this , what is your Grace's pleasure ?
+
+Even that , I hope , which pleaseth God above ,
+And all good men of this ungovern'd isle .
+
+I do suspect I have done some offence
+That seems disgracious in the city's eye ;
+And that you come to reprehend my ignorance .
+
+You have , my lord : would it might please your Grace ,
+On our entreaties to amend your fault !
+
+Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian land ?
+
+Know then , it is your fault that you resign
+The supreme seat , the throne majestical ,
+The sceptred office of your ancestors ,
+Your state of fortune and your due of birth ,
+The lineal glory of your royal house ,
+To the corruption of a blemish'd stock ;
+Whiles , in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts ,
+Which here we waken to our country's good ,
+This noble isle doth want her proper limbs ;
+Her face defac'd with scars of infamy ,
+Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants ,
+And almost shoulder'd in the swallowing gulf
+Of dark forgetfulness and deep oblivion .
+Which to recure we heartily solicit
+Your gracious self to take on you the charge
+And kingly government of this your land ;
+Not as protector , steward , substitute ,
+Or lowly factor for another's gain ;
+But as successively from blood to blood ,
+Your right of birth , your empery , your own .
+For this , consorted with the citizens ,
+Your very worshipful and loving friends ,
+And by their vehement instigation ,
+In this just cause come I to move your Grace .
+
+I cannot tell , if to depart in silence
+Or bitterly to speak in your reproof ,
+Best fitteth my degree or your condition :
+If not to answer , you might haply think
+Tongue-tied ambition , not replying , yielded
+To bear the golden yoke of sov'reignty ,
+Which fondly you would here impose on me ;
+If to reprove you for this suit of yours ,
+So season'd with your faithful love to me ,
+Then , on the other side , I check'd my friends .
+Therefore , to speak , and to avoid the first ,
+And then , in speaking , not to incur the last ,
+Definitively thus I answer you .
+Your love deserves my thanks ; but my desert
+Unmeritable shuns your high request .
+First , if all obstacles were cut away ,
+And that my path were even to the crown ,
+As the ripe revenue and due of birth ,
+Yet so much is my poverty of spirit ,
+So mighty and so many my defects ,
+That I would rather hide me from my greatness ,
+Being a bark to brook no mighty sea ,
+Than in my greatness covet to be hid ,
+And in the vapour of my glory smother'd .
+But , God be thank'd , there is no need of me ;
+And much I need to help you , were there need ;
+The royal tree hath left us royal fruit ,
+Which , mellow'd by the stealing hours of time ,
+Will well become the seat of majesty ,
+And make , no doubt , us happy by his reign .
+On him I lay that you would lay on me ,
+The right and fortune of his happy stars ;
+Which God defend that I should wring from him !
+
+My lord , this argues conscience in your Grace ;
+But the respects thereof are nice and trivial ,
+All circumstances well considered .
+You say that Edward is your brother's son :
+So say we too , but not by Edward's wife ;
+For first was he contract to Lady Lucy ,
+Your mother lives a witness to his vow ,
+And afterward by substitute betroth'd
+To Bona , sister to the King of France .
+These both put by , a poor petitioner ,
+A care-craz'd mother to a many sons ,
+A beauty-waning and distressed widow ,
+Even in the afternoon of her best days ,
+Made prize and purchase of his wanton eye ,
+Seduc'd the pitch and height of his degree
+To base declension and loath'd bigamy :
+By her , in his unlawful bed , he got
+This Edward , whom our manners call the prince .
+More bitterly could I expostulate ,
+Save that , for reverence to some alive ,
+I give a sparing limit to my tongue .
+Then , good my lord , take to your royal self
+This proffer'd benefit of dignity ;
+If not to bless us and the land withal ,
+Yet to draw forth your noble ancestry
+From the corruption of abusing times ,
+Unto a lineal true-derived course .
+
+Do , good my lord ; your citizens entreat you .
+
+Refuse not , mighty lord , this proffer'd love .
+
+O ! make them joyful : grant their lawful suit :
+
+Alas ! why would you heap those cares on me ?
+I am unfit for state and majesty :
+I do beseech you , take it not amiss ,
+I cannot nor I will not yield to you .
+
+If you refuse it , as , in love and zeal ,
+Loath to depose the child , your brother's son ;
+As well we know your tenderness of heart
+And gentle , kind , effeminate remorse ,
+Which we have noted in you to your kindred ,
+And egally , indeed , to all estates ,
+Yet whether you accept our suit or no ,
+Your brother's son shall never reign our king ;
+But we will plant some other in the throne ,
+To the disgrace and downfall of your house :
+And in this resolution here we leave you .
+Come , citizens , we will entreat no more .
+
+
+Call them again , sweet prince ; accept their suit :
+If you deny them , all the land will rue it .
+
+Will you enforce me to a world of cares ?
+Call them again : I am not made of stone ,
+But penetrable to your kind entreats ,
+
+Albeit against my conscience and my soul .
+
+
+Cousin of Buckingham , and sage , grave men ,
+Since you will buckle fortune on my back ,
+To bear her burden , whe'r I will or no ,
+I must have patience to endure the load :
+But if black scandal or foul-fac'd reproach
+Attend the sequel of your imposition ,
+Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me
+From all the impure blots and stains thereof ;
+For God doth know , and you may partly see ,
+
+How far I am from the desire of this .
+
+God bless your Grace ! we see it , and will say it .
+
+In saying so , you shall but say the truth .
+
+Then I salute you with this royal title :
+Long live King Richard , England's worthy king !
+
+Amen .
+
+To-morrow may it please you to be crown'd ?
+
+Even when you please , for you will have it so .
+
+To-morrow then we will attend your Grace :
+And so most joyfully we take our leave .
+
+Come , let us to our holy work again .
+Farewell , my cousin ;farewell , gentle friends .
+
+Who meets us here ? my niece Plantagenet ,
+Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloucester ?
+Now , for my life , she's wand'ring to the Tower ,
+On pure heart's love , to greet the tender princes .
+Daughter , well met .
+
+God give your Graces both
+A happy and a joyful time of day !
+
+As much to you , good sister ! whither away ?
+
+No further than the Tower ; and , as I guess ,
+Upon the like devotion as yourselves ,
+To gratulate the gentle princes there .
+
+Kind sister , thanks : we'll enter all together :
+
+
+And , in good time , here the lieutenant comes .
+Master lieutenant , pray you , by your leave ,
+
+How doth the prince , and my young son of York ?
+
+Right well , dear madam . By your patience ,
+I may not suffer you to visit them :
+The king hath strictly charg'd the contrary .
+
+The king ! who's that ?
+
+I mean the Lord Protector .
+
+The Lord protect him from that kingly title !
+Hath he set bounds between their love and me ?
+I am their mother ; who shall bar me from them ?
+
+I am their father's mother ; I will see them .
+
+Their aunt I am in law , in love their mother :
+Then bring me to their sights ; I'll bear thy blame ,
+And take thy office from thee , on my peril .
+
+No , madam , no , I may not leave it so :
+I am bound by oath , and therefore pardon me .
+
+Let me but meet you , ladies , one hour hence ,
+And I'll salute your Grace of York as mother ,
+And reverend looker-on of two fair queens .
+
+
+Come , madam , you must straight to Westminster ,
+There to be crowned Richard's royal queen .
+
+Ah ! cut my lace asunder ,
+That my pent heart may have some scope to beat ,
+Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news .
+
+Despiteful tidings ! O ! unpleasing news !
+
+Be of good cheer : mother , how fares your Grace ?
+
+O , Dorset ! speak not to me , get thee gone ;
+Death and destruction dog thee at the heels :
+Thy mother's name is ominous to children .
+If thou wilt outstrip death , go cross the seas ,
+And live with Richmond , from the reach of hell :
+Go , hie thee , hie thee , from this slaughter-house ,
+Lest thou increase the number of the dead ,
+And make me die the thrall of Margaret's curse ,
+Nor mother , wife , nor England's counted queen .
+
+Full of wise care is this your counsel , madam .
+
+
+Take all the swift advantage of the hours ;
+You shall have letters from me to my son
+In your behalf , to meet you on the way :
+Be not ta'en tardy by unwise delay .
+
+O ill-dispersing wind of misery !
+O ! my accursed womb , the bed of death ,
+A cockatrice hast thou hatch'd to the world ,
+Whose unavoided eye is murderous !
+
+Come , madam , come ; I in all haste was sent .
+
+And I with all unwillingness will go .
+O ! would to God that the inclusive verge
+Of golden metal that must round my brow
+Were red-hot steel to sear me to the brain .
+Anointed let me be with deadly venom ;
+And die , ere men can say 'God save the queen !'
+
+Go , go , poor soul , I envy not thy glory ;
+To feed my humour , wish thyself no harm .
+
+No ! why ? When he , that is my husband now
+Came to me , as I follow'd Henry's corse ;
+When scarce the blood was well wash'd from his hands ,
+Which issu'd from my other angel husband ,
+And that dead saint which then I weeping follow'd ;
+O ! when I say , I look'd on Richard's face ,
+This was my wish , 'Be thou ,' quoth I , 'accurs'd ,
+For making me so young , so old a widow !
+And , when thou wedd'st , let sorrow haunt thy bed ;
+And be thy wife if any be so mad
+More miserable by the life of thee
+Than thou hast made me by my dear lord's death !'
+Lo ! ere I can repeat this curse again ,
+Within so small a time , my woman's heart
+Grossly grew captive to his honey words ,
+And prov'd the subject of mine own soul's curse :
+Which hitherto hath held mine eyes from rest ;
+For never yet one hour in his bed
+Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep ,
+But with his timorous dreams was still awak'd .
+Besides , he hates me for my father Warwick ,
+And will , no doubt , shortly be rid of me .
+
+Poor heart , adieu ! I pity thy complaining .
+
+No more than with my soul I mourn for yours .
+
+Farewell ! thou woeful welcomer of glory !
+
+Adieu , poor soul , that tak'st thy leave of it !
+
+Go thou to Richmond , and good fortune guide thee !
+
+
+Go thou to Richard , and good angels tend thee !
+
+
+Go thou to sanctuary , and good thoughts possess thee !
+I to my grave , where peace and rest lie with me !
+Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen ,
+And each hour's joy wrack'd with a week of teen .
+
+Stay yet , look back with me unto the Tower .
+Pity , you ancient stones , those tender babes
+Whom envy hath immur'd within your walls ,
+Rough cradle for such little pretty ones !
+Rude ragged nurse , old sullen playfellow
+For tender princes , use my babies well .
+So foolish sorrow bids your stones farewell .
+
+
+Stand all apart . Cousin of Buckingham .
+
+My gracious sovereign !
+
+Give me thy hand .
+
+Thus high , by thy advice ,
+And thy assistance , is King Richard seated :
+But shall we wear these glories for a day ?
+Or shall they last , and we rejoice in them ?
+
+Still live they , and for ever let them last !
+
+Ah ! Buckingham , now do I play the touch ,
+To try if thou be current gold indeed :
+Young Edward lives : think now what I would speak .
+
+Say on , my loving lord .
+
+Why , Buckingham , I say , I would be king .
+
+Why , so you are , my thrice-renowned liege .
+
+Ha ! am I king ? 'Tis so : but Edward lives .
+
+True , noble prince .
+
+O bitter consequence ,
+That Edward still should live ! 'True , noble prince !'
+Cousin , thou wast not wont to be so dull :
+Shall I be plain ? I wish the bastards dead ;
+And I would have it suddenly perform'd .
+What sayst thou now ? speak suddenly , be brief .
+
+Your Grace may do your pleasure .
+
+Tut , tut ! thou art all ice , thy kindness freezes :
+Say , have I thy consent that they shall die ?
+
+Give me some little breath , some pause , dear lord ,
+Before I positively speak in this :
+I will resolve you herein presently .
+
+
+The king is angry : see , he gnaws his lip .
+
+I will converse with iron-witted fools
+And unrespective boys : none are for me
+That look into me with considerate eyes .
+High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect .
+Boy !
+
+My lord !
+
+Know'st thou not any whom corrupting gold
+Will tempt unto a close exploit of death ?
+
+I know a discontented gentleman ,
+Whose humble means match not his haughty spirit :
+Gold were as good as twenty orators ,
+And will , no doubt , tempt him to anything .
+
+What is his name ?
+
+His name , my lord , is Tyrrell .
+
+I partly know the man : go , call him hither .
+
+The deep-revolving witty Buckingham
+No more shall be the neighbour to my counsel .
+Hath he so long held out with me untir'd ,
+And stops he now for breath ? well , be it so .
+
+How now , Lord Stanley ! what's the news ?
+
+Know , my loving lord ,
+The Marquess Dorset , as I hear , is fled
+To Richmond , in the parts where he abides .
+
+Come hither , Catesby : rumour it abroad ,
+That Anne my wife is very grievous sick ;
+I will take order for her keeping close .
+Inquire me out some mean poor gentleman ,
+Whom I will marry straight to Clarence' daughter :
+The boy is foolish , and I fear not him .
+Look , how thou dream'st ! I say again , give out
+That Anne my queen is sick , and like to die :
+About it ; for it stands me much upon ,
+To stop all hopes whose growth may damage me .
+
+I must be married to my brother's daughter ,
+Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass .
+Murder her brothers , and then marry her !
+Uncertain way of gain ! But I am in
+So far in blood , that sin will pluck on sin :
+Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye .
+
+Is thy name Tyrrell ?
+
+James Tyrrell , and your most obedient subject .
+
+Art thou , indeed ?
+
+Prove me , my gracious lord .
+
+Dar'st thou resolve to kill a friend of mine ?
+
+Please you ; but I had rather kill two enemies .
+
+Why , then thou hast it : two deep enemies ,
+Foes to my rest , and my sweet sleep's disturbers ,
+Are they that I would have thee deal upon .
+Tyrrell , I mean those bastards in the Tower .
+
+Let me have open means to come to them ,
+And soon I'll rid you from the fear of them .
+
+Thou sing'st sweet music . Hark , come hither , Tyrrell :
+Go , by this token : rise , and lend thine ear .
+
+There is no more but so : say it is done ,
+And I will love thee , and prefer thee for it .
+
+I will dispatch it straight .
+
+My lord , I have consider'd in my mind
+The late demand that you did sound me in .
+
+Well , let that rest . Dorset is fled to Richmond .
+
+I hear the news , my lord .
+
+Stanley , he is your wife's son : well , look to it .
+
+My lord , I claim the gift , my due by promise ,
+For which your honour and your faith is pawn'd ;
+The earldom of Hereford and the moveables
+Which you have promised I shall possess .
+
+Stanley , look to your wife : if she convey
+Letters to Richmond , you shall answer it .
+
+What says your highness to my just request ?
+
+I do remember me , Henry the Sixth
+Did prophesy that Richmond should be king ,
+When Richmond was a little peevish boy .
+A king ! perhaps
+
+My lord !
+
+How chance the prophet could not at that time
+Have told me , I being by , that I should kill him ?
+
+My lord , your promise for the earldom ,
+
+Richmond ! When last I was at Exeter ,
+The mayor in courtesy show'd me the castle ,
+And call'd it Rougemont : at which name I started ,
+Because a bard of Ireland told me once
+I should not live long after I saw Richmond .
+
+My lord !
+
+Ay , what's o'clock ?
+
+I am thus bold to put your Grace in mind
+Of what you promis'd me .
+
+Well , but what is't o'clock ?
+
+Upon the stroke of ten .
+
+Well , let it strike .
+
+Why let it strike ?
+
+Because that , like a Jack , thou keep'st the stroke
+Betwixt thy begging and my meditation .
+I am not in the giving vein to-day .
+
+Why , then resolve me whe'r you will , or no .
+
+Thou troublest me : I am not in the vein .
+
+
+And is it thus ? repays he my deep service
+With such contempt ? made I him king for this ?
+O , let me think on Hastings , and be gone
+To Brecknock , while my fearful head is on .
+
+
+The tyrannous and bloody act is done ;
+The most arch deed of piteous massacre
+That ever yet this land was guilty of .
+Dighton and Forrest , whom I did suborn
+To do this piece of ruthless butchery ,
+Albeit they were flesh'd villains , bloody dogs ,
+Melting with tenderness and mild compassion ,
+Wept like to children in their death's sad story .
+'Oh ! thus ,' quoth Dighton , 'lay the gentle babes :'
+'Thus , thus ,' quoth Forrest , 'girdling one another
+Within their alabaster innocent arms :
+Their lips were four red roses on a stalk ,
+Which in their summer beauty kiss'd each other .
+A book of prayers on their pillow lay ;
+Which once ,' quoth Forrest , 'almost chang'd my mind ;
+But , O , the devil' there the villain stopp'd ;
+When Dighton thus told on : 'We smothered
+The most replenished sweet work of nature ,
+That from the prime creation e'er she fram'd .'
+Hence both are gone with conscience and remorse ;
+They could not speak ; and so I left them both ,
+To bear this tidings to the bloody king :
+And here he comes .
+
+All health , my sovereign lord !
+
+Kind Tyrrell , am I happy in thy news ?
+
+If to have done the thing you gave in charge
+Beget your happiness , be happy then ,
+For it is done .
+
+But didst thou see them dead ?
+
+I did , my lord .
+
+And buried , gentle Tyrrell ?
+
+The chaplain of the Tower hath buried them ;
+But how or in what place I do not know .
+
+Come to me , Tyrrell , soon at after-supper ,
+When thou shalt tell the process of their death .
+Meantime , but think how I may do thee good ,
+And be inheritor of thy desire .
+Farewell till then .
+
+I humbly take my leave .
+
+
+The son of Clarence have I pent up close ;
+His daughter meanly have I match'd in marriage ;
+The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom ,
+And Anne my wife hath bid the world good night .
+Now , for I know the Breton Richmond aims
+At young Elizabeth , my brother's daughter ,
+And , by that knot , looks proudly on the crown ,
+To her go I , a jolly thriving wooer .
+
+
+My lord !
+
+Good or bad news , that thou com'st in so bluntly ?
+
+Bad news , my lord : Morton is fled to Richmond ;
+And Buckingham , back'd with the hardy Welshmen ,
+Is in the field , and still his power increaseth .
+
+Ely with Richmond troubles me more near
+Than Buckingham and his rash-levied strength .
+Come ; I have learn'd that fearful commenting
+Is leaden servitor to dull delay :
+Delay leads impotent and snail-pac'd beggary :
+Then fiery expedition be my wing ,
+Jove's Mercury , and herald for a king !
+Go , muster men : my counsel is my shield ;
+We must be brief when traitors brave the field .
+
+
+So , now prosperity begins to mellow
+And drop into the rotten mouth of death .
+Here in these confines slily have I lurk'd
+To watch the waning of mine enemies .
+A dire induction am I witness to ,
+And will to France , hoping the consequence
+Will prove as bitter , black , and tragical .
+Withdraw thee , wretched Margaret : who comes here ?
+
+
+Ah ! my poor princes ! ah , my tender babes ,
+My unblown flowers , new-appearing sweets ,
+If yet your gentle souls fly in the air
+And be not fix'd in doom perpetual ,
+Hover about me with your airy wings ,
+And hear your mother's lamentation .
+
+Hover about her ; say , that right for right
+Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night .
+
+So many miseries have craz'd my voice ,
+That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute .
+Edward Plantagenet , why art thou dead ?
+
+Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet ;
+Edward for Edward pays a dying debt .
+
+Wilt thou , O God ! fly from such gentle lambs ,
+And throw them in the entrails of the wolf ?
+When didst thou sleep when such a deed was done ?
+
+When holy Harry died , and my sweet son .
+
+Dead life , blind sight , poor mortal living ghost ,
+Woe's scene , world's shame , grave's due by life usurp'd ,
+Brief abstract and record of tedious days ,
+Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth ,
+
+Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood !
+
+Ah ! that thou wouldst as soon afford a grave
+As thou canst yield a melancholy seat ;
+Then would I hide my bones , not rest them here .
+Ah ! who hath any cause to mourn but I ?
+
+
+If ancient sorrow be most reverend ,
+Give mine the benefit of seniory ,
+And let my griefs frown on the upper hand ,
+If sorrow can admit society .
+
+Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine :
+I had an Edward , till a Richard kill'd him ;
+I had a Harry , till a Richard kill'd him :
+Thou hadst an Edward , till a Richard kill'd him ;
+Thou hadst a Richard , till a Richard kill'd him .
+
+I had a Richard too , and thou didst kill him ;
+I had a Rutland too , thou holp'st to kill him .
+
+Thou hadst a Clarence too , and Richard kill'd him .
+From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept
+A hellhound that doth hunt us all to death :
+That dog , that had his teeth before his eyes ,
+To worry lambs , and lap their gentle blood ,
+That foul defacer of God's handiwork ,
+That excellent grand-tyrant of the earth ,
+That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls ,
+Thy womb let loose , to chase us to our graves .
+O ! upright , just , and true-disposing God ,
+How do I thank thee that this carnal cur
+Preys on the issue of his mother's body ,
+And makes her pew-fellow with others' moan .
+
+O ! Harry's wife , triumph not in my woes :
+God witness with me , I have wept for thine .
+
+Bear with me ; I am hungry for revenge ,
+And now I cloy me with beholding it .
+Thy Edward he is dead , that kill'd my Edward ;
+Thy other Edward dead , to quit my Edward ;
+Young York he is but boot , because both they
+Match not the high perfection of my loss :
+Thy Clarence he is dead that stabb'd my Edward ;
+And the beholders of this tragic play ,
+The adulterate Hastings , Rivers , Vaughan , Grey ,
+Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves .
+Richard yet lives , hell's black intelligencer ,
+Only reserv'd their factor , to buy souls
+And send them thither ; but at hand , at hand ,
+Ensues his piteous and unpitied end :
+Earth gapes , hell burns , fiends roar , saints pray ,
+To have him suddenly convey'd from hence .
+Cancel his bond of life , dear God ! I pray ,
+That I may live to say , The dog is dead .
+
+O ! thou didst prophesy the time would come
+That I should wish for thee to help me curse
+That bottled spider , that foul bunchback'd toad .
+
+I call'd thee then vain flourish of my fortune ;
+I call'd thee then poor shadow , painted queen ;
+The presentation of but what I was ;
+The flattering index of a direful pageant ;
+One heav'd a-high to be hurl'd down below ;
+A mother only mock'd with two fair babes ;
+A dream of what thou wert , a breath , a bubble ,
+A sign of dignity , a garish flag ,
+To be the aim of every dangerous shot ;
+A queen in jest , only to fill the scene .
+Where is thy husband now ? where be thy brothers ?
+Where are thy children ? wherein dost thou joy ?
+Who sues and kneels and cries God save the queen ?
+Where be the bending peers that flatter'd thee ?
+Where be the thronging troops that follow'd thee ?
+Decline all this , and see what now thou art :
+For happy wife , a most distressed widow ;
+For joyful mother , one that wails the name ;
+For one being su'd to , one that humbly sues ;
+For queen , a very caitiff crown'd with care ;
+For one that scorn'd at me , now scorn'd of me ;
+For one being fear'd of all , now fearing one ;
+For one commanding all , obey'd of none .
+Thus hath the course of justice whirl'd about ,
+And left thee but a very prey to time ;
+Having no more but thought of what thou wert ,
+To torture thee the more , being what thou art .
+Thou didst usurp my place , and dost thou not
+Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow ?
+Now thy proud neck bears half my burden'd yoke ;
+From which even here , I slip my wearied head ,
+And leave the burden of it all on thee .
+Farewell , York's wife , and queen of sad mischance :
+These English woes shall make me smile in France .
+
+O thou , well skill'd in curses , stay awhile ,
+And teach me how to curse mine enemies .
+
+Forbear to sleep the night , and fast the day ;
+Compare dead happiness with living woe ;
+Think that thy babes were fairer than they were ,
+And he that slew them fouler than he is :
+Bettering thy loss makes the bad causer worse :
+Revolving this will teach thee how to curse .
+
+My words are dull ; O ! quicken them with thine !
+
+Thy woes will make them sharp , and pierce like mine .
+
+
+Why should calamity be full of words ?
+
+Windy attorneys to their client woes ,
+Airy succeeders of intestate joys ,
+Poor breathing orators of miseries !
+Let them have scope : though what they do impart
+Help nothing else , yet do they ease the heart .
+
+If so , then be not tongue-tied : go with me ,
+And in the breath of bitter words let's smother
+My damned son , that thy two sweet sons smother'd .
+
+The trumpet sounds : be copious in exclaims .
+
+
+Who intercepts me in my expedition ?
+
+O ! she that might have intercepted thee ,
+By strangling thee in her accursed womb ,
+From all the slaughters , wretch , that thou hast done !
+
+Hid'st thou that forehead with a golden crown ,
+Where should be branded , if that right were right ,
+The slaughter of the prince that ow'd that crown ,
+And the dire death of my poor sons and brothers ?
+Tell me , thou villain slave , where are my children ?
+
+Thou toad , thou toad , where is thy brother Clarence
+And little Ned Plantagenet , his son ?
+
+Where is the gentle Rivers , Vaughan , Grey ?
+
+Where is kind Hastings ?
+
+A flourish , trumpets ! strike alarum , drums !
+Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women
+Rail on the Lord's anointed . Strike , I say !
+
+Either be patient , and entreat me fair ,
+Or with the clamorous report of war
+Thus will I drown your exclamations .
+
+Art thou my son ?
+
+Ay ; I thank God , my father , and yourself .
+
+Then patiently hear my impatience .
+
+Madam , I have a touch of your condition ,
+That cannot brook the accent of reproof .
+
+O , let me speak !
+
+Do , then ; but I'll not hear .
+
+I will be mild and gentle in my words .
+
+And brief , good mother ; for I am in haste .
+
+Art thou so hasty ? I have stay'd for thee ,
+God knows , in torment and in agony .
+
+And came I not at last to comfort you ?
+
+No , by the holy rood , thou know'st it well ,
+Thou cam'st on earth to make the earth my hell .
+A grievous burden was thy birth to me ;
+Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy ;
+Thy school-days frightful , desperate , wild and furious ;
+Thy prime of manhood daring , bold , and venturous ;
+Thy age confirm'd , proud , subtle , sly , and bloody ,
+More mild , but yet more harmful , kind in hatred :
+What comfortable hour canst thou name
+That ever grac'd me in thy company ?
+
+Faith , none , but Humphrey Hour , that call'd your Grace
+To breakfast once forth of my company .
+If I be so disgracious in your eye ,
+Let me march on , and not offend you , madam .
+Strike up the drum !
+
+I prithee , hear me speak .
+
+You speak too bitterly .
+
+Hear me a word ;
+For I shall never speak to thee again .
+
+So !
+
+Either thou wilt die by God's just ordinance ,
+Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror ;
+Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish
+And never look upon thy face again .
+Therefore take with thee my most grievous curse ,
+Which , in the day of battle , tire thee more
+Than all the complete armour that thou wear'st !
+My prayers on the adverse party fight ;
+And there the little souls of Edward's children
+Whisper the spirits of thine enemies
+And promise them success and victory .
+Bloody thou art , bloody will be thy end ;
+Shame serves thy life and doth thy death attend .
+
+
+Though far more cause , yet much less spirit to curse
+Abides in me : I say amen to her .
+
+
+Stay , madam ; I must talk a word with you .
+
+I have no moe sons of the royal blood
+For thee to slaughter : for my daughters , Richard ,
+They shall be praying nuns , not weeping queens ;
+And therefore level not to hit their lives .
+
+You have a daughter call'd Elizabeth ,
+Virtuous and fair , royal and gracious .
+
+And must she die for this ? O ! let her live ,
+And I'll corrupt her manners , stain her beauty ;
+Slander myself as false to Edward's bed ;
+Throw over her the veil of infamy :
+So she may live unscarr'd of bleeding slaughter ,
+I will confess she was not Edward's daughter .
+
+Wrong not her birth ; she is of royal blood .
+
+To save her life , I'll say she is not so .
+
+Her life is safest only in her birth .
+
+And only in that safety died her brothers .
+
+Lo ! at their births good stars were opposite !
+
+No , to their lives ill friends were contrary .
+
+All unavoided is the doom of destiny .
+
+True , when avoided grace makes destiny .
+My babes were destin'd to a fairer death ,
+If grace had bless'd thee with a fairer life .
+
+You speak as if that I had slain my cousins .
+
+Cousins , indeed ; and by their uncle cozen'd
+Of comfort , kingdom , kindred , freedom , life .
+Whose hands soever lanc'd their tender hearts
+Thy head , all indirectly , gave direction :
+No doubt the murderous knife was dull and blunt
+Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart ,
+To revel in the entrails of my lambs .
+But that still use of grief makes wild grief tame ,
+My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys
+Till that my nails were anchor'd in thine eyes ;
+And I , in such a desperate bay of death ,
+Like a poor bark , of sails and tackling reft ,
+Rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom .
+
+Madam , so thrive I in my enterprise
+And dangerous success of bloody wars ,
+As I intend more good to you and yours
+Than ever you or yours by me were harm'd .
+
+What good is cover'd with the face of heaven ,
+To be discover'd , that can do me good ?
+
+The advancement of your children , gentle lady .
+
+Up to some scaffold , there to lose their heads ?
+
+No , to the dignity and height of fortune ,
+The high imperial type of this earth's glory .
+
+Flatter my sorrow with report of it :
+Tell me what state , what dignity , what honour ,
+Canst thou demise to any child of mine ?
+
+Even all I have ; ay , and myself and all ,
+Will I withal endow a child of thine ;
+So in the Lethe of thy angry soul
+Thou drown the sad remembrance of those wrongs
+Which thou supposest I have done to thee .
+
+Be brief , lest that the process of thy kindness
+Last longer telling than thy kindness' date .
+
+Then know , that from my soul I love thy daughter .
+
+My daughter's mother thinks it with her soul .
+
+What do you think ?
+
+That thou dost love my daughter from thy soul :
+So from thy soul's love didst thou love her brothers ;
+And from my heart's love I do thank thee for it .
+
+Be not too hasty to confound my meaning :
+I mean , that with my soul I love thy daughter ,
+And do intend to make her Queen of England .
+
+Well then , who dost thou mean shall be her king ?
+
+Even he that makes her queen : who else should be ?
+
+What ! thou ?
+
+Even so : what think you of it ?
+
+How canst thou woo her ?
+
+That I would learn of you ,
+As one being best acquainted with her humour .
+
+And wilt thou learn of me ?
+
+Madam , with all my heart .
+
+Send to her , by the man that slew her brothers ,
+A pair of bleeding hearts ; thereon engrave
+Edward and York ; then haply will she weep :
+Therefore present to her , as sometime Margaret
+Did to thy father , steep'd in Rutland's blood ,
+A handkerchief , which , say to her , did drain
+The purple sap from her sweet brother's body ,
+And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withal .
+If this inducement move her not to love ,
+Send her a letter of thy noble deeds ;
+Tell her thou mad'st away her uncle Clarence ,
+Her uncle Rivers ; ay , and for her sake ,
+Mad'st quick conveyance with her good aunt Anne .
+
+You mock me , madam ; this is not the way
+To win your daughter .
+
+There is no other way
+Unless thou couldst put on some other shape ,
+And not be Richard that hath done all this .
+
+Say , that I did all this for love of her ?
+
+Nay , then indeed , she cannot choose but hate thee ,
+Having bought love with such a bloody spoil .
+
+Look , what is done cannot be now amended :
+Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes ,
+Which after-hours give leisure to repent .
+If I did take the kingdom from your sons ,
+To make amends I'll give it to your daughter .
+If I have kill'd the issue of your womb ,
+To quicken your increase , I will beget
+Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter :
+A grandam's name is little less in love
+Than is the doting title of a mother ;
+They are as children but one step below ,
+Even of your mettle , of your very blood ;
+Of all one pain , save for a night of groans
+Endur'd of her for whom you bid like sorrow .
+Your children were vexation to your youth ,
+But mine shall be a comfort to your age .
+The loss you have is but a son being king ,
+And by that loss your daughter is made queen .
+I cannot make you what amends I would ,
+Therefore accept such kindness as I can .
+Dorset your son , that with a fearful soul
+Leads discontented steps in foreign soil ,
+This fair alliance quickly shall call home
+To high promotions and great dignity :
+The king that calls your beauteous daughter wife ,
+Familiarly shall call thy Dorset brother ;
+Again shall you be mother to a king ,
+And all the ruins of distressful times
+Repair'd with double riches of content .
+What ! we have many goodly days to see :
+The liquid drops of tears that you have shed
+Shall come again , transform'd to orient pearl ,
+Advantaging their loan with interest
+Of ten times double gain of happiness .
+Go then , my mother ; to thy daughter go :
+Make bold her bashful years with your experience ;
+Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale ;
+Put in her tender heart the aspiring flame
+Of golden sovereignty ; acquaint the princess
+With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys :
+And when this arm of mine hath chastised
+The petty rebel , dull-brain'd Buckingham ,
+Bound with triumphant garlands will I come ,
+And lead thy daughter to a conqueror's bed ;
+To whom I will retail my conquest won ,
+And she shall be sole victress , C sar's C sar .
+
+What were I best to say ? her father's brother
+Would be her lord ? Or shall I say , her uncle ?
+Or , he that slew her brothers and her uncles ?
+Under what title shall I woo for thee ,
+That God , the law , my honour , and her love
+Can make seem pleasing to her tender years ?
+
+Infer fair England's peace by this alliance .
+
+Which she shall purchase with still lasting war .
+
+Tell her , the king , that may command , entreats .
+
+That at her hands which the king's King forbids .
+
+Say , she shall be a high and mighty queen .
+
+To wail the title , as her mother doth .
+
+Say , I will love her everlastingly .
+
+But how long shall that title 'ever' last ?
+
+Sweetly in force unto her fair life's end .
+
+But how long fairly shall her sweet life last ?
+
+As long as heaven and nature lengthens it .
+
+As long as hell and Richard likes of it .
+
+Say , I , her sovereign , am her subject low .
+
+But she , your subject , loathes such sovereignty .
+
+Be eloquent in my behalf to her .
+
+An honest tale speeds best being plainly told .
+
+Then plainly to her tell my loving tale .
+
+Plain and not honest is too harsh a style .
+
+Your reasons are too shallow and too quick .
+
+O , no ! my reasons are too deep and dead ;
+Too deep and dead , poor infants , in their graves .
+
+Harp not on that string , madam ; that is past .
+
+Harp on it still shall I till heart-strings break .
+
+Now , by my George , my garter , and my crown ,
+
+Profan'd , dishonour'd , and the third usurp'd .
+
+I swear ,
+
+By nothing ; for this is no oath .
+Thy George , profan'd , hath lost his holy honour ;
+Thy garter , blemish'd , pawn'd his knightly virtue ;
+Thy crown , usurp'd , disgrac'd his kingly glory .
+If something thou wouldst swear to be believ'd ,
+Swear , then , by something that thou hast not wrong'd .
+
+Now , by the world ,
+
+'Tis full of thy foul wrongs .
+
+My father's death ,
+
+Thy life hath that dishonour'd .
+
+Then , by myself ,
+
+Thyself is self-misus'd .
+
+Why , then , by God ,
+
+God's wrong is most of all .
+If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by him ,
+The unity the king my husband made
+Had not been broken , nor my brothers died :
+If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by him ,
+The imperial metal , circling now thy head ,
+Had grac'd the tender temples of my child ,
+And both the princes had been breathing here ,
+Which now , too tender bed-fellows for dust ,
+Thy broken faith hath made a prey for worms .
+What canst thou swear by now ?
+
+The time to come .
+
+That thou hast wronged in the time o'erpast ;
+For I myself have many tears to wash
+Hereafter time for time past wrong'd by thee .
+The children live , whose parents thou hast slaughter'd ,
+Ungovern'd youth , to wail it in their age :
+The parents live , whose children thou hast butcher'd ,
+Old barren plants , to wail it with their age .
+Swear not by time to come ; for that thou hast
+Misus'd ere us'd , by times ill-us'd o'erpast .
+
+As I intend to prosper , and repent ,
+So thrive I in my dangerous affairs
+Of hostile arms ! myself myself confound !
+Heaven and fortune bar me happy hours !
+Day , yield me not thy light ; nor , night , thy rest !
+Be opposite all planets of good luck
+To my proceeding , if , with pure heart's love ,
+Immaculate devotion , holy thoughts ,
+I tender not thy beauteous princely daughter !
+In her consists my happiness and thine ;
+Without her , follows to myself , and thee ,
+Herself , the land , and many a Christian soul ,
+Death , desolation , ruin , and decay :
+It cannot be avoided but by this ;
+It will not be avoided but by this .
+Therefore , dear mother ,I must call you so ,
+Be the attorney of my love to her :
+Plead what I will be , not what I have been ;
+Not my deserts , but what I will deserve :
+Urge the necessity and state of times ,
+And be not peevish-fond in great designs .
+
+Shall I be tempted of the devil thus ?
+
+Ay , if the devil tempt thee to do good .
+
+Shall I forget myself to be myself ?
+
+Ay , if your self's remembrance wrong yourself .
+
+Yet thou didst kill my children .
+
+But in your daughter's womb I bury them :
+Where , in that nest of spicery , they shall breed
+Selves of themselves , to your recomforture .
+
+Shall I go win my daughter to thy will ?
+
+And be a happy mother by the deed .
+
+I go . Write to me very shortly ,
+And you shall understand from me her mind .
+
+Bear her my true love's kiss ; and so farewell .
+
+Relenting fool , and shallow changing woman !
+
+How now ! what news ?
+
+Most mighty sovereign , on the western coast
+Rideth a puissant navy ; to the shores
+Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted friends ,
+Unarm'd , and unresolv'd to beat them back .
+'Tis thought that Richmond is their admiral ;
+And there they hull , expecting but the aid
+Of Buckingham to welcome them ashore .
+
+Some light-foot friend post to the Duke of Norfolk :
+Ratcliff , thyself , or Catesby ; where is he ?
+
+Here , my good lord .
+
+Catesby , fly to the duke .
+
+I will , my lord , with all convenient haste .
+
+Ratcliff , come hither . Post to Salisbury :
+When thou com'st thither ,
+
+Dull , unmindful villain ,
+Why stay'st thou here , and go'st not to the duke ?
+
+First , mighty liege , tell me your highness' pleasure ,
+What from your Grace I shall deliver to him .
+
+O ! true , good Catesby : bid him levy straight
+The greatest strength and power he can make ,
+And meet me suddenly at Salisbury .
+
+I go .
+
+
+What , may it please you , shall I do at Salisbury ?
+
+Why , what wouldst thou do there before I go ?
+
+Your highness told me I should post before .
+
+
+My mind is chang'd . Stanley , what news with you ?
+
+None good , my liege , to please you with the hearing ;
+Nor none so bad but well may be reported .
+
+Hoyday , a riddle ! neither good nor bad !
+What need'st thou run so many miles about ,
+When thou mayst tell thy tale the nearest way ?
+Once more , what news ?
+
+Richmond is on the seas .
+
+There let him sink , and be the seas on him !
+White-liver'd runagate ! what doth he there ?
+
+I know not , mighty sovereign , but by guess .
+
+Well , as you guess ?
+
+Stirr'd up by Dorset , Buckingham , and Morton ,
+He makes for England , here to claim the crown .
+
+Is the chair empty ? is the sword unsway'd ?
+Is the king dead ? the empire unpossess'd ?
+What heir of York is there alive but we ?
+And who is England's king but great York's heir ?
+Then , tell me , what makes he upon the seas ?
+
+Unless for that , my liege , I cannot guess .
+
+Unless for that he comes to be your liege ,
+You cannot guess wherefore the Welshman comes .
+Thou wilt revolt and fly to him I fear .
+
+No , my good lord ; therefore mistrust me not .
+
+Where is thy power then to beat him back ?
+Where be thy tenants and thy followers ?
+Are they not now upon the western shore ,
+Safe-conducting the rebels from their ships ?
+
+No , my good lord , my friends are in the north .
+
+Cold friends to me : what do they in the north
+When they should serve their sovereign in the west ?
+
+They have not been commanded , mighty king :
+Pleaseth your majesty to give me leave ,
+I'll muster up my friends , and meet your Grace ,
+Where and what time your majesty shall please .
+
+Ay , ay , thou wouldst be gone to join with Richmond :
+But I'll not trust thee .
+
+Most mighty sovereign ,
+You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful .
+I never was nor never will be false .
+
+Go then and muster men : but leave behind
+Your son , George Stanley : look your heart be firm ,
+Or else his head's assurance is but frail .
+
+So deal with him as I prove true to you .
+
+My gracious sovereign , now in Devonshire ,
+As I by friends am well advertised ,
+Sir Edward Courtney , and the haughty prelate ,
+Bishop of Exeter , his brother there ,
+With many moe confederates are in arms .
+
+
+In Kent , my liege , the Guildfords are in arms ;
+And every hour more competitors
+Flock to the rebels , and their power grows strong .
+
+
+My lord , the army of great Buckingham
+
+Out on ye , owls ! nothing but songs of death ?
+
+There , take thou that , till thou bring better news .
+
+The news I have to tell your majesty
+Is , that by sudden floods and fall of waters ,
+Buckingham's army is dispers'd and scatter'd ;
+And he himself wander'd away alone ,
+No man knows whither .
+
+I cry thee mercy :
+There is my purse , to cure that blow of thine .
+Hath any well-advised friend proclaim'd
+Reward to him that brings the traitor in ?
+
+Such proclamation hath been made , my liege .
+
+
+Sir Thomas Lovel , and Lord Marquess Dorset ,
+'Tis said , my liege , in Yorkshire are in arms :
+But this good comfort bring I to your highness ,
+The Breton navy is dispers'd by tempest .
+Richmond , in Dorsetshire , sent out a boat
+Unto the shore to ask those on the banks
+If they were his assistants , yea or no ;
+Who answer'd him , they came from Buckingham
+Upon his party : he , mistrusting them ,
+Hois'd sail , and made away for Brittany .
+
+March on , march on , since we are up in arms ;
+If not to fight with foreign enemies ,
+Yet to beat down these rebels here at home .
+
+
+My liege , the Duke of Buckingham is taken ,
+That is the best news : that the Earl of Richmond
+Is with a mighty power landed at Milford
+Is colder news , but yet they must be told .
+
+Away towards Salisbury ! while we reason here ,
+A royal battle might be won and lost .
+Some one take order Buckingham be brought
+To Salisbury ; the rest march on with me .
+
+
+Sir Christopher , tell Richmond this from me :
+That in the sty of this most bloody boar
+My son George Stanley is frank'd up in hold :
+If I revolt , off goes young George's head ;
+The fear of that holds off my present aid .
+So , get thee gone : commend me to thy lord .
+Withal , say that the queen hath heartily consented
+He should espouse Elizabeth her daughter .
+But , tell me , where is princely Richmond now ?
+
+At Pembroke , or at Ha'rford-west , in Wales .
+
+What men of name resort to him ?
+
+Sir Walter Herbert , a renowned soldier ,
+Sir Gilbert Talbot , Sir William Stanley ,
+Oxford , redoubted Pembroke , Sir James Blunt ,
+And Rice ap Thomas , with a valiant crew ;
+And many other of great name and worth :
+And towards London do they bend their power ,
+If by the way they be not fought withal .
+
+Well , hie thee to thy lord ; I kiss his hand :
+My letter will resolve him of my mind .
+Farewell .
+
+Will not King Richard let me speak with him ?
+
+No , my good lord ; therefore be patient .
+
+Hastings , and Edward's children , Grey and Rivers ,
+Holy King Henry , and thy fair son Edward ,
+Vaughan , and all that have miscarried
+By underhand corrupted foul injustice ,
+If that your moody discontented souls
+Do through the clouds behold this present hour ,
+Even for revenge mock my destruction !
+This is All-Souls' day , fellows , is it not ?
+
+It is , my lord .
+
+Why , then All-Souls' day is my body's doomsday .
+This is the day that , in King Edward's time ,
+I wish'd might fall on me , when I was found
+False to his children or his wife's allies ;
+This is the day wherein I wish'd to fall
+By the false faith of him whom most I trusted ;
+This , this All-Souls' day to my fearful soul
+Is the determin'd respite of my wrongs .
+That high All-Seer which I dallied with
+Hath turn'd my feigned prayer on my head ,
+And given in earnest what I begg'd in jest .
+Thus doth he force the swords of wicked men
+To turn their own points on their masters' bosoms :
+Thus Margaret's curse falls heavy on my neck :
+'When he ,' quoth she , 'shall split thy heart with sorrow ,
+Remember Margaret was a prophetess .'
+Come , lead me , officers , to the block of shame :
+Wrong hath but wrong , and blame the due of blame .
+
+Fellows in arms , and my most loving friends ,
+Bruis'd underneath the yoke of tyranny ,
+Thus far into the bowels of the land
+Have we march'd on without impediment :
+And here receive we from our father Stanley
+Lines of fair comfort and encouragement .
+The wretched , bloody , and usurping boar ,
+That spoil'd your summer fields and fruitful vines ,
+Swills your warm blood like wash , and makes his trough
+In your embowell'd bosoms , this foul swine
+Is now even in the centre of this isle ,
+Near to the town of Leicester , as we learn :
+From Tamworth thither is but one day's march .
+In God's name , cheerly on , courageous friends ,
+To reap the harvest of perpetual peace
+By this one bloody trial of sharp war .
+
+Every man's conscience is a thousand men ,
+To fight against this guilty homicide .
+
+I doubt not but his friends will turn to us .
+
+He hath no friends but what are friends for fear ,
+Which in his dearest need will fly from him .
+
+All for our vantage : then , in God's name , march :
+True hope is swift , and flies with swallow's wings ;
+Kings it makes gods , and meaner creatures kings .
+
+
+Here pitch our tent , even here in Bosworth field .
+My Lord of Surrey , why look you so sad ?
+
+My heart is ten times lighter than my looks .
+
+My Lord of Norfolk ,
+
+Here , most gracious liege .
+
+Norfolk , we must have knocks ; ha ! must we not ?
+
+We must both give and take , my loving lord .
+
+Up with my tent ! here will I lie to-night ;
+
+But where to-morrow ? Well , all's one for that .
+Who hath descried the number of the traitors ?
+
+Six or seven thousand is their utmost power .
+
+Why , our battalia trebles that account ;
+Besides , the king's name is a tower of strength ,
+Which they upon the adverse faction want .
+Up with the tent ! Come , noble gentlemen ,
+Let us survey the vantage of the ground ;
+Call for some men of sound direction :
+Let's lack no discipline , make no delay ;
+For , lords , to-morrow is a busy day .
+
+
+The weary sun hath made a golden set ,
+And , by the bright track of his fiery car ,
+Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow .
+Sir William Brandon , you shall bear my standard .
+Give me some ink and paper in my tent :
+I'll draw the form and model of our battle ,
+Limit each leader to his several charge ,
+And part in just proportion our small power .
+My Lord of Oxford , you , Sir William Brandon ,
+And you , Sir Walter Herbert , stay with me .
+The Earl of Pembroke keeps his regiment :
+Good Captain Blunt , bear my good-night to him ,
+And by the second hour in the morning
+Desire the earl to see me in my tent .
+Yet one thing more , good captain , do for me ;
+Where is Lord Stanley quarter'd , do you know ?
+
+Unless I have mista'en his colours much ,
+Which , well I am assur'd , I have not done ,
+His regiment lies half a mile at least
+South from the mighty power of the king .
+
+If without peril it be possible ,
+Good Captain Blunt , bear my good-night to him ,
+And give him from me this most needful note .
+
+Upon my life , my lord , I'll undertake it ;
+And so , God give you quiet rest to-night !
+
+Good-night , good Captain Blunt . Come , gentlemen ,
+Let us consult upon to-morrow's business ;
+In to my tent , the air is raw and cold .
+
+What is 't o'clock ?
+
+It's supper-time , my lord ;
+It's nine o'clock .
+
+I will not sup to-night .
+Give me some ink and paper .
+What , is my beaver easier than it was ,
+And all my armour laid into my tent ?
+
+It is , my liege ; and all things are in readiness .
+
+Good Norfolk , hie thee to thy charge ;
+Use careful watch ; choose trusty sentinels .
+
+I go , my lord .
+
+Stir with the lark to-morrow , gentle Norfolk .
+
+I warrant you , my lord .
+
+
+Ratcliff !
+
+My lord ?
+
+Send out a pursuivant at arms
+To Stanley's regiment ; bid him bring his power
+Before sun-rising , lest his son George fall
+Into the blind cave of eternal night .
+Fill me a bowl of wine . Give me a watch .
+Saddle white Surrey for the field to-morrow .
+Look that my staves be sound , and not too heavy .
+Ratcliff !
+
+My lord !
+
+Saw'st thou the melancholy Lord Northumberland ?
+
+Thomas the Earl of Surrey , and himself ,
+Much about cock-shut time , from troop to troop
+Went through the army , cheering up the soldiers .
+
+So , I am satisfied . Give me a bowl of wine :
+I have not that alacrity of spirit ,
+Nor cheer of mind , that I was wont to have .
+Set it down . Is ink and paper ready ?
+
+It is , my lord .
+
+Bid my guard watch ; leave me .
+Ratcliff , about the mid of night come to my tent
+And help to arm me . Leave me , I say .
+
+
+Fortune and victory sit on thy helm !
+
+All comfort that the dark night can afford
+Be to thy person , noble father-in-law !
+Tell me , how fares our loving mother ?
+
+I , by attorney , bless thee from thy mother ,
+Who prays continually for Richmond's good :
+So much for that . The silent hours steal on ,
+And flaky darkness breaks within the east .
+In brief , for so the season bids us be ,
+Prepare thy battle early in the morning ,
+And put thy fortune to the arbitrement
+Of bloody strokes and mortal-staring war .
+I , as I may ,that which I would I cannot ,
+With best advantage will deceive the time ,
+And aid thee in this doubtful shock of arms :
+But on thy side I may not be too forward ,
+Lest , being seen , thy brother , tender George ,
+Be executed in his father's sight .
+Farewell : the leisure and the fearful time
+Cuts off the ceremonious vows of love
+And ample interchange of sweet discourse ,
+Which so long sunder'd friends should dwell upon :
+God give us leisure for these rites of love !
+Once more , adieu : be valiant , and speed well !
+
+Good lords , conduct him to his regiment .
+I'll strive , with troubled thoughts , to take a nap ,
+Lest leaden slumber peise me down to-morrow ,
+When I should mount with wings of victory .
+Once more , good-night , kind lords and gentlemen .
+
+O ! thou , whose captain I account myself ,
+Look on my forces with a gracious eye ;
+Put in their hands thy bruising irons of wrath ,
+That they may crush down with a heavy fall
+The usurping helmets of our adversaries !
+Make us thy ministers of chastisement ,
+That we may praise thee in thy victory !
+To thee I do commend my watchful soul ,
+Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes :
+Sleeping and waking , O ! defend me still !
+
+Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow !
+Think how thou stab'dst me in my prime of youth
+At Tewksbury : despair , therefore , and die !
+Be cheerful , Richmond ; for the wronged souls
+Of butcher'd princes fight in thy behalf :
+King Henry's issue , Richmond , comforts thee .
+
+
+When I was mortal , my anointed body
+By thee was punched full of deadly holes :
+Think on the Tower and me ; despair and die !
+Henry the Sixth bids thee despair and die .
+
+
+Virtuous and holy , be thou conqueror !
+Harry , that prophesied thou shouldst be the king ,
+Doth comfort thee in thy sleep : live thou and flourish !
+
+
+Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow !
+I , that was wash'd to death with fulsome wine ,
+Poor Clarence , by thy guile betray'd to death !
+To-morrow in the battle think on me ,
+And fall thy edgeless sword : despair , and die !
+
+
+Thou offspring of the house of Lancaster ,
+The wronged heirs of York do pray for thee :
+Good angels guard thy battle ! live , and flourish !
+
+
+Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow !
+Rivers , that died at Pomfret ! despair , and die !
+
+Think upon Grey , and let thy soul despair .
+
+Think upon Vaughan , and with guilty fear
+Let fall thy pointless lance : despair , and die !
+
+Awake ! and think our wrongs in Richard's bosom
+Will conquer him : awake , and win the day !
+
+
+Bloody and guilty , guiltily awake ;
+And in a bloody battle end thy days !
+Think on Lord Hastings , so despair , and die !
+
+
+Quiet , untroubled soul , awake , awake !
+Arm , fight , and conquer , for fair England's sake !
+
+
+Dream on thy cousins smother'd in the Tower :
+Let us be lead within thy bosom , Richard ,
+And weigh thee down to ruin , shame , and death !
+Thy nephews' souls bid thee despair , and die !
+
+
+Sleep , Richmond , sleep in peace , and wake in joy ;
+Good angels guard thee from the boar's annoy !
+Live , and beget a happy race of kings !
+Edward's unhappy sons do bid thee flourish .
+
+
+Richard , thy wife , that wretched Anne thy wife ,
+That never slept a quiet hour with thee ,
+Now fills thy sleep with perturbations :
+To-morrow in the battle think on me ,
+And fall thy edgeless sword : despair , and die !
+
+
+Thou quiet soul , sleep thou a quiet sleep ;
+Dream of success and happy victory !
+Thy adversary's wife doth pray for thee .
+
+
+The first was I that help'd thee to the crown ;
+The last was I that felt thy tyranny .
+O ! in the battle think on Buckingham ,
+And die in terror of thy guiltiness !
+Dream on , dream on , of bloody deeds and death :
+Fainting , despair ; despairing , yield thy breath !
+
+
+I died for hope ere I could lend thee aid :
+But cheer thy heart , and be thou not dismay'd :
+God and good angels fight on Richmond's side ;
+And Richard falls in height of all his pride .
+
+
+Give me another horse ! bind up my wounds !
+Have mercy , Jesu ! Soft ! I did but dream .
+O coward conscience , how dost thou afflict me !
+The lights burn blue . It is now dead midnight .
+Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh .
+What ! do I fear myself ? there's none else by :
+Richard loves Richard , that is , I am I .
+Is there a murderer here ? No . Yes , I am :
+Then fly : what ! from myself ? Great reason why :
+Lest I revenge . What ! myself upon myself ?
+Alack ! I love myself . Wherefore ? for any good
+That I myself have done unto myself ?
+O ! no : alas ! I rather hate myself
+For hateful deeds committed by myself .
+I am a villain . Yet I lie ; I am not .
+Fool , of thyself speak well : fool , do not flatter .
+My conscience hath a thousand several tongues ,
+And every tongue brings in a several tale ,
+And every tale condemns me for a villain .
+Perjury , perjury , in the high'st degree :
+Murder , stern murder , in the dir'st degree ;
+All several sins , all us'd in each degree ,
+Throng to the bar , crying all , 'Guilty ! guilty !'
+I shall despair . There is no creature loves me ;
+And if I die , no soul will pity me :
+Nay , wherefore should they , since that I myself
+Find in myself no pity to myself ?
+Methought the souls of all that I had murder'd
+Came to my tent ; and every one did threat
+To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard .
+
+
+My lord !
+
+'Zounds ! who's there ?
+
+Ratcliff , my lord ; 'tis I . The early village cock
+Hath twice done salutation to the morn ;
+Your friends are up , and buckle on their armour .
+
+O Ratcliff ! I have dream'd a fearful dream .
+What thinkest thou , will our friends prove all true ?
+
+No doubt , my lord .
+
+O Ratcliff ! I fear , I fear ,
+
+Nay , good my lord , be not afraid of shadows .
+
+By the apostle Paul , shadows to-night
+Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard
+Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers
+Armed in proof , and led by shallow Richmond .
+It is not yet near day . Come , go with me ;
+Under our tents I'll play the eaves-dropper ,
+To hear if any mean to shrink from me .
+
+Good morrow , Richmond !
+
+Cry mercy , lords , and watchful gentlemen ,
+That you have ta'en a tardy sluggard here .
+
+How have you slept , my lord ?
+
+The sweetest sleep , the fairest-boding dreams
+That ever enter'd in a drowsy head ,
+Have I since your departure had , my lords .
+Methought their souls , whose bodies Richard murder'd ,
+Came to my tent and cried on victory :
+I promise you , my heart is very jocund
+In the remembrance of so fair a dream .
+How far into the morning is it , lords ?
+
+Upon the stroke of four .
+
+Why , then 'tis time to arm and give direction .
+His oration to his Soldiers .
+More than I have said , loving countrymen ,
+The leisure and enforcement of the time
+Forbids to dwell on : yet remember this ,
+God and our good cause fight upon our side ;
+The prayers of holy saints and wronged souls ,
+Like high-rear'd bulwarks , stand before our faces ;
+Richard except , those whom we fight against
+Had rather have us win than him they follow .
+For what is he they follow ? truly , gentlemen ,
+A bloody tyrant and a homicide ;
+One rais'd in blood , and one in blood establish'd ;
+One that made means to come by what he hath ,
+And slaughter'd those that were the means to help him ;
+A base foul stone , made precious by the foil
+Of England's chair , where he is falsely set ;
+One that hath ever been God's enemy .
+Then , if you fight against God's enemy ,
+God will in justice , ward you as his soldiers ;
+If you do sweat to put a tyrant down ,
+You sleep in peace , the tyrant being slain ;
+If you do fight against your country's foes ,
+Your country's fat shall pay your pains the hire ;
+If you do fight in safeguard of your wives ,
+Your wives shall welcome home the conquerors ;
+If you do free your children from the sword ,
+Your children's children quit it in your age .
+Then , in the name of God and all these rights ,
+Advance your standards , draw your willing swords .
+For me , the ransom of my bold attempt
+Shall be this cold corse on the earth's cold face ;
+But if I thrive , the gain of my attempt
+The least of your shall share his part thereof .
+Sound drums and trumpets , boldly and cheerfully ;
+God and Saint George ! Richmond and victory !
+
+What said Northumberland as touching Richmond ?
+
+That he was never trained up in arms .
+
+He said the truth : and what said Surrey then ?
+
+He smil'd , and said , 'The better for our purpose .'
+
+He was i' the right ; and so , indeed , it is .
+
+Tell the clock there . Give me a calendar .
+Who saw the sun to-day ?
+
+Not I , my lord .
+
+Then he disdains to shine ; for by the book
+He should have brav'd the east an hour ago :
+A black day will it be to somebody .
+Ratcliff !
+
+My lord ?
+
+The sun will not be seen to-day ;
+The sky doth frown and lower upon our army .
+I would these dewy tears were from the ground .
+Not shine to-day ! Why , what is that to me
+More than to Richmond ? for the self-same heaven
+That frowns on me looks sadly upon him .
+
+
+Arm , arm , my lord ! the foe vaunts in the field .
+
+Come , bustle , bustle ; caparison my horse .
+Call up Lord Stanley , bid him bring his power :
+I will lead forth my soldiers to the plain ,
+And thus my battle shall be ordered :
+My foreward shall be drawn out all in length
+Consisting equally of horse and foot ;
+Our archers shall be placed in the midst :
+John Duke of Norfolk , Thomas Earl of Surrey ,
+Shall have the leading of this foot and horse .
+They thus directed , we will follow
+In the main battle , whose puissance on either side
+Shall be well winged with our chiefest horse .
+This , and Saint George to boot ! What think'st thou , Norfolk ?
+
+A good direction , war-like sovereign .
+This found I on my tent this morning .
+
+
+Jockey of Norfolk , be not too bold ,
+For Dickon thy master is bought and sold .
+A thing devised by the enemy .
+Go , gentlemen ; every man to his charge :
+Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls ;
+Conscience is but a word that cowards use ,
+Devis'd at first to keep the strong in awe :
+Our strong arms be our conscience , swords our law .
+March on , join bravely , let us to 't pell-mell ;
+If not to heaven , then hand in hand to hell .
+His oration to his Army .
+What shall I say more than I have inferr'd ?
+Remember whom you are to cope withal :
+A sort of vagabonds , rascals , and run-aways ,
+A scum of Bretons and base lackey peasants ,
+Whom their o'er-cloyed country vomits forth
+To desperate adventures and assur'd destruction .
+You sleeping safe , they bring you to unrest ;
+You having lands , and bless'd with beauteous wives ,
+They would restrain the one , distain the other .
+And who doth lead them but a paltry fellow ,
+Long kept in Britaine at our mother's cost ?
+A milksop , one that never in his life
+Felt so much cold as over shoes in snow ?
+Let's whip these stragglers o'er the sea again ;
+Lash hence these overweening rags of France ,
+These famish'd beggars , weary of their lives ;
+Who , but for dreaming on this fond exploit ,
+For want of means , poor rats , had hang'd themselves :
+If we be conquer'd , let men conquer us ,
+And not these bastard Bretons ; whom our fathers
+Have in their own land beaten , bobb'd , and thump'd ,
+And , on record , left them the heirs of shame .
+Shall these enjoy our lands ? lie with our wives ?
+Ravish our daughters ?
+
+Hark ! I hear their drum .
+Fight , gentlemen of England ! fight , bold yeomen !
+Draw , archers , draw your arrows to the head !
+Spur your proud horses hard , and ride in blood ;
+Amaze the welkin with your broken staves !
+
+What says Lord Stanley ? will he bring his power ?
+
+My lord , he doth deny to come .
+
+Off with his son George's head !
+
+My lord , the enemy is pass'd the marsh :
+After the battle let George Stanley die .
+
+A thousand hearts are great within my bosom :
+Advance our standards ! set upon our foes !
+Our ancient word of courage , fair Saint George ,
+Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons !
+Upon them ! Victory sits upon our helms .
+
+
+Rescue , my Lord of Norfolk ! rescue , rescue !
+The king enacts more wonders than a man ,
+Daring an opposite to every danger :
+His horse is slain , and all on foot he fights ,
+Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death .
+Rescue , fair lord , or else the day is lost !
+
+
+A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for a horse !
+
+Withdraw , my lord ; I'll help you to a horse .
+
+Slave ! I have set my life upon a cast ,
+And I will stand the hazard of the die .
+I think there be six Richmonds in the field ;
+Five have I slain to-day , instead of him .
+A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for a horse !
+
+God and your arms be prais'd , victorious friends ;
+The day is ours , the bloody dog is dead .
+
+Courageous Richmond , well hast thou acquit thee !
+Lo ! here , this long-usurped royalty
+From the dead temples of this bloody wretch
+Have I pluck'd off , to grace thy brows withal :
+Wear it , enjoy it , and make much of it .
+
+Great God of heaven , say amen to all !
+But , tell me , is young George Stanley living ?
+
+He is , my lord , and safe in Leicester town ;
+Whither , if you please , we may withdraw us .
+
+What men of name are slain on either side ?
+
+John Duke of Norfolk , Walter Lord Ferrers ,
+Sir Robert Brakenbury , and Sir William Brandon .
+
+Inter their bodies as becomes their births :
+Proclaim a pardon to the soldiers fied
+That in submission will return to us ;
+And then , as we have ta'en the sacrament ,
+We will unite the white rose and the red :
+Smile , heaven , upon this fair conjunction ,
+That long hath frown'd upon their enmity !
+What traitor hears me , and says not amen ?
+England hath long been mad , and scarr'd herself ;
+The brother blindly shed the brother's blood ,
+The father rashly slaughter'd his own son ,
+The son , compell'd , been butcher to the sire :
+All this divided York and Lancaster ,
+Divided in their dire division ,
+O ! now , let Richmond and Elizabeth ,
+The true succeeders of each royal house ,
+By God's fair ordinance conjoin together ;
+And let their heirs God , if thy will be so ,
+Enrich the time to come with smooth-fac'd peace ,
+With smiling plenty , and fair prosperous days !
+Abate the edge of traitors , gracious Lord ,
+That would reduce these bloody days again ,
+And make poor England weep in streams of blood !
+Let them not live to taste this land's increase ,
+That would with treason wound this fair land's peace !
+Now civil wounds are stopp'd , peace lives again :
+That she may long live here , God say amen !
+
+ANTHONY AND CLEOPATRA
+
+Nay , but this dotage of our general's
+O'erflows the measure ; those his goodly eyes ,
+That o'er the files and musters of the war
+Have glow'd like plated Mars , now bend , now turn
+The office and devotion of their view
+Upon a tawny front ; his captain's heart ,
+Which in the scuffles of great fights hath burst
+The buckles on his breast , reneges all temper ,
+And is become the bellows and the fan
+To cool a gipsy's lust . Look ! where they come .
+
+
+Take but good note , and you shall see in him
+The triple pillar of the world transform'd
+
+Into a strumpet's fool ; behold and see .
+
+If it be love indeed , tell me how much .
+
+There's beggary in the love that can be reckon'd .
+
+I'll set a bourn how far to be belov'd .
+
+Then must thou needs find out new heaven , new earth .
+
+
+News , my good lord , from Rome .
+
+Grates me ; the sum .
+
+Nay , hear them , Antony :
+Fulvia , perchance , is angry ; or , who knows
+If the scarce-bearded C sar have not sent
+His powerful mandate to you , 'Do this , or this ;
+Take in that kingdom , and enfranchise that ;
+Perform 't , or else we damn thee .'
+
+How , my love !
+
+Perchance ! nay , and most like ;
+You must not stay here longer ; your dismission
+Is come from C sar ; therefore hear it , Antony .
+Where's Fulvia's process ? C sar's I would say ? both ?
+Call in the messengers . As I am Egypt's queen ,
+Thou blushest , Antony , and that blood of thine
+Is C sar's homager ; else so thy cheek pays shame
+When shrill-tongu'd Fulvia scolds . The messengers !
+
+Let Rome in Tiber melt , and the wide arch
+Of the rang'd empire fall ! Here is my space .
+Kingdoms are clay ; our dungy earth alike
+Feeds beast as man ; the nobleness of life
+Is to do thus ; when such a mutual pair
+
+And such a twain can do 't , in which I bind ,
+On pain of punishment , the world to weet
+We stand up peerless .
+
+Excellent falsehood !
+Why did he marry Fulvia and not love her ?
+I'll seem the fool I am not ; Antony
+Will be himself .
+
+But stirr'd by Cleopatra .
+Now , for the love of Love and her soft hours ,
+Let's not confound the time with conference harsh :
+There's not a minute of our lives should stretch
+Without some pleasure now . What sport to-night ?
+
+Hear the ambassadors .
+
+Fie , wrangling queen !
+Whom every thing becomes , to chide , to laugh ,
+To weep ; whose every passion fully strives
+To make itself , in thee , fair and admir'd .
+No messenger , but thine ; and all alone ,
+To-night we'll wander through the streets and note
+The qualities of people . Come , my queen ;
+Last night you did desire it : speak not to us .
+
+
+Is C sar with Antonius priz'd so slight ?
+
+Sir , sometimes , when he is not Antony ,
+He comes too short of that great property
+Which still should go with Antony .
+
+I am full sorry
+That he approves the common liar , who
+Thus speaks of him at Rome ; but I will hope
+Of better deeds to-morrow . Rest you happy !
+
+
+Lord Alexas , sweet Alexas , most any thing Alexas , almost most absolute Alexas , where's the soothsayer that you praised so to the queen ? O ! that I knew this husband , which , you say , must charge his horns with garlands .
+
+Soothsayer !
+
+Your will ?
+
+Is this the man ? Is't you , sir , that know things ?
+
+In nature's infinite book of secrecy
+A little I can read .
+
+Show him your hand .
+
+
+Bring in the banquet quickly ; wine enough
+Cleopatra's health to drink .
+
+Good sir , give me good fortune .
+
+I make not , but foresee .
+
+Pray then , foresee me one .
+
+You shall be yet far fairer than you are .
+
+He means in flesh .
+
+No , you shall paint when you are old .
+
+Wrinkles forbid !
+
+Vex not his prescience ; be attentive .
+
+Hush !
+
+You shall be more beloving than belov'd .
+
+I had rather heat my liver with drinking .
+
+Nay , hear him .
+
+Good now , some excellent fortune ! Let me be married to three kings in a forenoon , and widow them all ; let me have a child at fifty , to whom Herod of Jewry may do homage ; find me to marry me with Octavius C sar , and companion me with my mistress .
+
+You shall outlive the lady whom you serve .
+
+O excellent ! I love long life better than figs .
+
+You have seen and prov'd a fairer former fortune
+Than that which is to approach .
+
+Then , belike , my children shall have no names ; prithee , how many boys and wenches must I have ?
+
+If every of your wishes had a womb ,
+And fertile every wish , a million .
+
+Out , fool ! I forgive thee for a witch .
+
+You think none but your sheets are privy to your wishes .
+
+Nay , come , tell Iras hers .
+
+We'll know all our fortunes .
+
+Mine , and most of our fortunes , to-night , shall be ,drunk to bed .
+
+There's a palm presages chastity , if nothing else .
+
+E'en as the overflowing Nilus presageth famine .
+
+Go , you wild bedfellow , you cannot soothsay .
+
+Nay , if an oily palm be not a fruitful prognostication , I cannot scratch mine ear .
+Prithee , tell her but a worky-day fortune .
+
+Your fortunes are alike .
+
+But how ? but how ? give me particulars .
+
+I have said .
+
+Am I not an inch of fortune better than she ?
+
+Well , if you were but an inch of fortune better than I , where would you choose it ?
+
+Not in my husband's nose .
+
+Our worser thoughts heaven mend ! Alexas ,come , his fortune , his fortune . O ! let him marry a woman that cannot go , sweet Isis , I beseech thee ; and let her die too , and give him a worse ; and let worse follow worse , till the worst of all follow him laughing to his grave , fifty-fold a cuckold ! Good Isis , hear me this prayer , though thou deny me a matter of more weight ; good Isis , I beseech thee !
+
+Amen . Dear goddess , hear that prayer of the people ! for , as it is a heart-breaking to see a handsome man loose-wived , so it is a deadly sorrow to behold a foul knave uncuckolded : therefore , dear Isis , keep decorum , and fortune him accordingly !
+
+Amen .
+
+Lo , now ! if it lay in their hands to make me acuckold , they would make themselves whores , but they'd do't !
+
+Hush ! here comes Antony .
+
+Not he ; the queen .
+
+
+Saw you my lord ?
+
+No , lady .
+
+Was he not here ?
+
+No , madam .
+
+He was dispos'd to mirth ; but on the sudden
+A Roman thought hath struck him . Enobarbus !
+
+Madam !
+
+Seek him , and bring him hither . Where's Alexas ?
+
+Here , at your service . My lord approaches .
+
+
+We will not look upon him ; go with us .
+
+
+Fulvia thy wife first came into the field .
+
+Against my brother Lucius ?
+
+Ay :
+But soon that war had end , and the time's state
+Made friends of them , jointing their force 'gainst C sar ,
+Whose better issue in the war , from Italy
+Upon the first encounter drave them .
+
+Well , what worst ?
+
+The nature of bad news infects the teller .
+
+When it concerns the fool , or coward . On ;
+Things that are past are done with me . 'Tis thus :
+Who tells me true , though in his tale lay death ,
+I hear him as he flatter'd .
+
+Labienus
+This is stiff news hath , with his Parthian force
+Extended Asia ; from Euphrates
+His conquering banner shook from Syria
+To Lydia and to Ionia : whilst
+
+Antony , thou wouldst say ,
+
+O ! my lord .
+
+Speak to me home , mince not the general tongue ;
+Name Cleopatra as she is call'd in Rome ;
+Rail thou in Fulvia's phrase ; and taunt my faults
+With such full licence as both truth and malice
+Have power to utter . O ! then we bring forth weeds
+When our quick winds lie still ; and our ills told us
+Is as our earing . Fare thee well awhile .
+
+At your noble pleasure .
+
+
+From Sicyon , ho , the news ! Speak there !
+
+The man from Sicyon , is there such an one ?
+
+He stays upon your will .
+
+Let him appear .
+These strong Egyptian fetters I must break ,
+Or lose myself in dotage .
+
+What are you ?
+
+Fulvia thy wife is dead .
+
+Where died she ?
+
+In Sicyon :
+Her length of sickness , with what else more serious
+Importeth thee to know , this bears .
+
+
+Forbear me .
+
+There's a great spirit gone ! Thus did I desire it :
+What our contempts do often hurl from us
+We wish it ours again ; the present pleasure ,
+By revolution lowering , does become
+The opposite of itself : she's good , being gone ;
+The hand could pluck her back that shov'd her on .
+I must from this enchanting queen break off ;
+Ten thousand harms , more than the ills I know ,
+My idleness doth hatch . How now ! Enobarbus !
+
+
+What's your pleasure , sir ?
+
+I must with haste from hence .
+
+Why , then , we kill all our women . We see how mortal an unkindness is to them ; if they suffer our departure , death's the word .
+
+I must be gone .
+
+Under a compelling occasion let women die ; it were pity to cast them away for nothing ; though between them and a great cause they should be esteemed nothing . Cleopatra , catching but the least noise of this , dies instantly ; I have seen her die twenty times upon far poorer moment . I do think there is mettle in death which commits some loving act upon her , she hath such a celerity in dying .
+
+She is cunning past man's thought .
+
+Alack ! sir , no ; her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love . We cannot call her winds and waters sighs and tears ; they are greater storms and tempests than almanacs can report : this cannot be cunning in her ; if it be , she makes a shower of rain as well as Jove .
+
+Would I had never seen her !
+
+O , sir ! you had then left unseen a wonderful piece of work which not to have been blessed withal would have discredited your travel .
+
+Fulvia is dead .
+
+Sir ?
+
+Fulvia is dead .
+
+Fulvia !
+
+Dead .
+
+Why , sir , give the gods a thankful sacrifice . When it pleaseth their de ties to take the wife of a man from him , it shows to man the tailors of the earth ; comforting therein , that when old robes are worn out , there are members to make new . If there were no more women but Fulvia , then had you indeed a cut , and the case to be lamented : this grief is crowned with consolation ; your old smock brings forth a new petticoat ; and indeed the tears live in an onion that should water this sorrow .
+
+The business she hath broached in the state
+Cannot endure my absence .
+
+And the business you have broached here cannot be without you ; especially that of Cleopatra's , which wholly depends on your abode .
+
+No more light answers . Let our officers Have notice what we purpose . I shall break
+The cause of our expedience to the queen ,
+And get her leave to part . For not alone
+The death of Fulvia , with more urgent touches ,
+Do strongly speak to us , but the letters too
+Of many our contriving friends in Rome
+Petition us at home . Sextus Pompeius
+Hath given the dare to C sar , and commands
+The empire of the sea ; our slippery people
+Whose love is never link'd to the deserver
+Till his deserts are past begin to throw
+Pompey the Great and all his dignities
+Upon his son ; who , high in name and power ,
+Higher than both in blood and life , stands up
+For the main soldier , whose quality , going on ,
+The sides o' the world may danger . Much is breeding ,
+Which , like the courser's hair , hath yet but life ,
+And not a serpent's poison . Say , our pleasure ,
+To such whose place is under us , requires
+Our quick remove from hence .
+
+I shall do it .
+
+
+Where is he ?
+
+I did not see him since .
+
+See where he is , who's with him , what he does ;
+I did not send you : if you find him sad ,
+Say I am dancing ; if in mirth , report
+That I am sudden sick : quick , and return .
+
+
+Madam , methinks , if you did love him dearly ,
+You do not hold the method to enforce
+The like from him .
+
+What should I do I do not ?
+
+In each thing give him way , cross him in nothing .
+
+Thou teachest like a fool ; the way to lose him .
+
+Tempt him not so too far ; I wish , forbear :
+In time we hate that which we often fear .
+But here comes Antony .
+
+
+I am sick and sullen .
+
+I am sorry to give breathing to my purpose ,
+
+Help me away , dear Charmian , I shall fall :
+It cannot be thus long , the sides of nature
+Will not sustain it .
+
+Now , my dearest queen ,
+
+Pray you , stand further from me .
+
+What's the matter ?
+
+I know , by that same eye , there's some good news .
+What says the married woman ? You may go :
+Would she had never given you leave to come !
+Let her not say 'tis I that keep you here ;
+I have no power upon you ; hers you are .
+
+The gods best know ,
+
+O ! never was there queen
+So mightily betray'd ; yet at the first
+I saw the treasons planted .
+
+Cleopatra ,
+
+Why should I think you can be mine and true ,
+Though you in swearing shake the throned gods ,
+Who have been false to Fulvia ? Riotous madness ,
+To be entangled with those mouth-made vows ,
+Which break themselves in swearing !
+
+Most sweet queen ,
+
+Nay , pray you , seek no colour for your going ,
+But bid farewell , and go : when you su'd staying
+Then was the time for words ; no going then :
+Eternity was in our lips and eyes ,
+Bliss in our brows bent ; none our parts so poor
+But was a race of heaven ; they are so still ,
+Or thou , the greatest soldier of the world ,
+Art turn'd the greatest liar .
+
+How now , lady !
+
+I would I had thy inches ; thou shouldst know
+There were a heart in Egypt .
+
+Hear me , queen :
+The strong necessity of time commands
+Our services awhile , but my full heart
+Remains in use with you . Our Italy
+Shines o'er with civil swords ; Sextus Pompeius
+Makes his approaches to the port of Rome ;
+Equality of two domestic powers
+Breeds scrupulous faction . The hated , grown to strength ,
+Are newly grown to love ; the condemn'd Pompey ,
+Rich in his father's honour , creeps apace
+Into the hearts of such as have not thriv'd
+Upon the present state , whose numbers threaten ;
+And quietness , grown aick of rest , would purge
+By any desperate change . My more particular ,
+And that which most with you should safe my going ,
+Is Fulvia's death .
+
+Though age from folly could not give me freedom ,
+It does from childishness : can Fulvia die ?
+
+She's dead , my queen :
+Look here , and at thy sovereign leisure read
+The garboils she awak'd ; at the last , best ,
+See when and where she died .
+
+O most false love !
+Where be the sacred vials thou shouldst fill
+With sorrowful water ? Now I see , I see ,
+In Fulvia's death , how mine receiv'd shall be .
+
+Quarrel no more , but be prepar'd to know
+The purposes I bear , which are or cease
+As you shall give the advice . By the fire
+That quickens Nilus' slime , I go from hence
+Thy soldier , servant , making peace or war
+As thou affect'st .
+
+Cut my lace , Charmian , come ;
+But let it be : I am quickly ill , and well ;
+So Antony loves .
+
+My precious queen , forbear ,
+And give true evidence to his love which stands
+An honourable trial .
+
+So Fulvia told me .
+I prithee , turn aside and weep for her ;
+Then bid adieu to me , and say the tears
+Belong to Egypt : good now , play one scene
+Of excellent dissembling , and let it look
+Like perfect honour .
+
+You'll heat my blood ; no more .
+
+You can do better yet , but this is meetly .
+
+Now , by my sword ,
+
+And target . Still he mends ;
+But this is not the best . Look , prithee , Charmian ,
+How this Herculean Roman does become
+The carriage of his chafe .
+
+I'll leave you , lady .
+
+Courteous lord , one word .
+Sir , you and I must part , but that 's not it :
+Sir , you and I have lov'd , but there 's not it ;
+That you know well : something it is I would ,
+O ! my oblivion is a very Antony ,
+And I am all forgotten .
+
+But that your royalty
+Holds idleness your subject , I should take you
+For idleness itself .
+
+'Tis sweating labour
+To bear such idleness so near the heart
+As Cleopatra this . But , sir , forgive me ;
+Since my becomings kill me when they do not
+Eye well to you : your honour calls you hence ;
+Therefore be deaf to my unpitied folly ,
+And all the gods go with you ! Upon your sword
+Sit laurel victory ! and smooth success
+Be strew'd before your feet !
+
+Let us go . Come ;
+Our separation so abides and flies ,
+That thou , residing here , go'st yet with me ,
+And I , hence fleeting , here remain with thee .
+Away !
+
+
+You may see , Lepidus , and henceforth know ,
+It is not C sar's natural vice to hate
+Our great competitor . From Alexandria
+This is the news : he fishes , drinks , and wastes
+The lamps of night in revel ; is not more manlike
+Than Cleopatra , nor the queen of Ptolemy
+More womanly than he ; hardly gave audience , or
+Vouchsaf'd to think he had partners : you shall find there
+A man who is the abstract of all faults
+That all men follow .
+
+I must not think there are
+Evils enow to darken all his goodness ;
+His faults in him seem as the spots of heaven ,
+More fiery by night's blackness ; hereditary
+Rather than purchas'd ; what he cannot change
+Than what he chooses .
+
+You are too indulgent . Let us grant it is not
+Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy ,
+To give a kingdom for a mirth , to sit
+And keep the turn of tippling with a slave ,
+To reel the streets at noon , and stand the buffet
+With knaves that smell of sweat ; say this becomes him ,
+As his composure must be rare indeed
+Whom these things cannot blemish ,yet must Antony
+No way excuse his soils , when we do bear
+So great weight in his lightness . If he fill'd
+His vacancy with his voluptuousness ,
+Full surfeits and the dryness of his bones
+Call on him for 't ; but to confound such time
+That drums him from his sport , and speaks as loud
+As his own state and ours , 'tis to be chid
+As we rate boys , who , being mature in knowledge ,
+Pawn their experience to their present pleasure ,
+And so rebel to judgment .
+
+
+Here's more news .
+
+Thy biddings have been done , and every hour ,
+Most noble C sar , shalt thou have report
+How 'tis abroad . Pompey is strong at sea ,
+And it appears he is belov'd of those
+That only have fear'd C sar ; to the ports
+The discontents repair , and men's reports
+Give him much wrong'd .
+
+I should have known no less .
+It hath been taught us from the primal state ,
+That he which is was wish'd until he were ;
+And the ebb'd man , ne'er lov'd till ne'er worth love ,
+Comes dear'd by being lack'd . This common body ,
+Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream ,
+Goes to and back , lackeying the varying tide ,
+To rot itself with motion .
+
+C sar , I bring thee word ,
+Menecrates and Menas , famous pirates ,
+Make the sea serve them , which they ear and wound
+With keels of every kind : many hot inroads
+They make in Italy ; the borders maritime
+Lack blood to think on't , and flush youth revolt ;
+No vessel can peep forth , but 'tis as soon
+Taken as seen ; for Pompey's name strikes more
+Than could his war resisted .
+
+Antony ,
+Leave thy lascivious wassails . When thou once
+Wast beaten from Modena , where thou slew'st
+Hirtius and Pansa , consuls , at thy heel
+Did famine follow , whom thou fought'st against ,
+Though daintily brought up , with patience more
+Than savages could suffer ; thou didst drink
+The stale of horses and the gilded puddle
+Which beasts would cough at ; thy palate then did deign
+The roughest berry on the rudest hedge ;
+Yea , like the stag , when snow the pasture sheets ,
+The barks of trees thou browsed'st ; on the Alps
+It is reported thou didst eat strange flesh ,
+Which some did die to look on ; and all this
+It wounds thy honour that I speak it now
+Was borne so like a soldier , that thy cheek
+So much as lank'd not .
+
+'Tis pity of him .
+
+Let his shames quickly
+Drive him to Rome . 'Tis time we twain
+Did show ourselves i' the field ; and to that end
+Assemble me immediate council ; Pompey
+Thrives in our idleness .
+
+To-morrow , C sar ,
+I shall be furnish'd to inform you rightly
+Both what by sea and land I can be able
+To front this present time .
+
+Till which encounter ,
+It is my business too . Farewell .
+
+Farewell , my lord . What you shall know meantime
+Of stirs abroad , I shall beseech you , sir ,
+To let me be partaker .
+
+Doubt not , sir ;
+I knew it for my bond .
+
+
+Charmian !
+
+Madam !
+
+Ha , ha !
+Give me to drink mandragora .
+
+Why , madam ?
+
+That I might sleep out this great gap of time
+My Antony is away .
+
+You think of him too much .
+
+O ! 'tis treason .
+
+Madam , I trust , not so .
+
+Thou , eunuch Mardian !
+
+What 's your highness' pleasure ?
+
+Not now to hear thee sing ; I take no pleasure
+In aught a eunuch has . 'Tis well for thee ,
+That , being unseminar'd , thy freer thoughts
+May not fly forth of Egypt . Hast thou affections ?
+
+Yes , gracious madam .
+
+Indeed !
+
+Not in deed , madam ; for I can do nothing
+But what in deed is honest to be done ;
+Yet have I fierce affections , and think
+What Venus did with Mars .
+
+O Charmian !
+Where think'st thou he is now ? Stands he , or sits he ?
+Or does he walk ? or is he on his horse ?
+O happy horse , to bear the weight of Antony !
+Do bravely , horse , for wot'st thou whom thou mov'st ?
+The demi-Atlas of this earth , the arm
+And burgonet of men . He's speaking now ,
+Or murmuring 'Where's my serpent of old Nile ?'
+For so he calls me . Now I feed myself
+With most delicious poison . Think on me ,
+That am with Ph bus' amorous pinches black ,
+And wrinkled deep in time ? Broad-fronted C sar ,
+When thou wast here above the ground I was
+A morsel for a monarch , and great Pompey
+Would stand and make his eyes grow in my brow ;
+There would he anchor his aspect and die
+With looking on his life .
+
+
+Sovereign of Egypt , hail !
+
+How much unlike art thou Mark Antony !
+Yet , coming from him , that great medicine hath
+With his tinct gilded thee .
+How goes it with my brave Mark Antony ?
+
+Last thing he did , dear queen ,
+He kiss'd , the last of many doubled kisses ,
+This orient pearl . His speech sticks in my heart .
+
+Mine ear must pluck it thence .
+
+'Good friend ,' quoth he ,
+'Say , the firm Roman to great Egypt sends
+This treasure of an oyster ; at whose foot ,
+To mend the petty present , I will piece
+Her opulent throne with kingdoms ; all the east ,
+Say thou , shall call her mistress .' So he nodded ,
+And soberly did mount an arm-gaunt steed ,
+Who neigh'd so high that what I would have spoke
+Was beastly dumb'd by him .
+
+What ! was he sad or merry ?
+
+Like to the time o' the year between the extremes
+Of hot and cold ; he was nor sad nor merry .
+
+O well-divided disposition ! Note him ,
+Note him , good Charmian , 'tis the man ; but note him :
+He was not sad , for he would shire on those
+That make their looks by his ; he was not merry ,
+Which seem'd to tell them his remembrance lay
+In Egypt with his joy ; but between both :
+O heavenly mingle ! Be'st thou sad or merry ,
+The violence of either thee becomes ,
+So does it no man else . Mett'st thou my posts ?
+
+Ay , madam , twenty several messengers .
+Why do you send so thick ?
+
+Who's born that day
+When I forget to send to Antony ,
+Shall die a beggar . Ink and paper , Charmian .
+Welcome , my good Alexas . Did I , Charmian ,
+Ever love C sar so ?
+
+O ! that brave C sar .
+
+Be chok'd with such another emphasis !
+Say the brave Antony .
+
+The valiant C sar !
+
+By Isis , I will give thee bloody teeth ,
+If thou with C sar paragon again
+My man of men .
+
+By your most gracious pardon ,
+I sing but after you .
+
+My salad days ,
+When I was green in judgment , cold in blood ,
+To say as I said then ! But come , away ;
+Get me ink and paper :
+He shall have every day a several greeting ,
+Or I'll unpeople Egypt .
+
+If the great gods be just , they shall assist
+The deeds of justest men .
+
+Know , worthy Pompey ,
+That what they do delay , they not deny .
+
+Whiles we are suitors to their throne , decays
+The thing we sue for .
+
+We , ignorant of ourselves ,
+Beg often our own harms , which the wise powers
+Deny us for our good ; so find we profit
+By losing of our prayers .
+
+I shall do well :
+The people love me , and the sea is mine ;
+My powers are crescent , and my auguring hope
+Says it will come to the full . Mark Antony
+In Egypt sits at dinner , and will make
+No wars without doors ; C sar gets money where
+He loses hearts ; Lepidus flatters both ,
+Of both is flatter'd ; but he neither loves ,
+Nor either cares for him .
+
+C sar and Lepidus
+Are in the field ; a mighty strength they carry .
+
+Where have you this ? 'tis false .
+
+From Silvius , sir .
+
+He dreams ; I know they are in Rome together ,
+Looking for Antony . But all the charms of love ,
+Salt Cleopatra , soften thy wan'd lip !
+Let witchcraft join with beauty , lust with both !
+Tie up the libertine in a field of feasts ,
+Keep his brain fuming ; Epicurean cooks
+Sharpen with cloyless sance his appetite ,
+That sleep and feeding may prorogue his honour
+Even till a Lethe'd dulness !
+
+How now , Varrius !
+
+This is most certain that I shall deliver :
+Mark Antony is every hour in Rome
+Expected ; since he went from Egypt 'tis
+A space for further travel .
+
+I could have given less matter
+A better ear . Menas , I did not think
+This amorous surfeiter would have donn'd his helm
+For such a petty war ; his soldiership
+Is twice the other twain . But let us rear
+The higher our opinion , that our stirring
+Can from the lap of Egypt's widow pluck
+The ne'er-lust-wearied Antony .
+
+I cannot hope
+C sar and Antony shall well greet together ;
+His wife that's dead did trespasses to C sar ,
+His brother warr'd upon him , although I think
+Not mov'd by Antony .
+
+I know not , Menas ,
+How lesser enmities may give way to greater .
+Were 't not that we stand up against them all
+'Twere pregnant they should square between themselves ,
+For they have entertained cause enough
+To draw their swords ; but how the fear of us
+May cement their divisions and bind up
+The petty difference , we yet not know .
+Be it as our gods will have 't ! It only stands
+Our lives upon , to use our strongest hands .
+Come , Menas .
+
+
+Good Enobarbus , 'tis a worthy deed ,
+And shall become you well , to entreat your captain
+To soft and gentle speech .
+
+I shall entreat him
+To answer like himself : if C sar move him ,
+Let Antony look over C sar's head ,
+And speak as loud as Mars . By Jupiter ,
+Were I the wearer of Antonius' beard ,
+I would not shave 't to-day .
+
+'Tis not a time
+For private stomaching .
+
+Every time
+Serves for the matter that is then born in 't .
+
+But small to greater matters must give way .
+
+Not if the small come first .
+
+Your speech is passion ;
+But , pray you , stir no embers up . Here comes
+The noble Antony .
+
+
+And yonder , C sar .
+
+
+If we compose well here , to Parthia :
+Hark ye , Ventidius .
+
+I do not know ,
+Mec nas ; ask Agrippa .
+
+Noble friends ,
+That which combin'd us was most great , and let not
+A leaner action rend us . What's amiss ,
+May it be gently heard ; when we debate
+Our trivial difference loud , we do commit
+Murder in healing wounds ; then , noble partners ,
+The rather for I earnestly beseech ,
+Touch you the sourest points with sweetest terms ,
+Nor curstness grow to the matter .
+
+'Tis spoken well .
+Were we before our armies , and to fight ,
+I should do thus .
+
+Welcome to Rome .
+
+Thank you .
+
+Sit .
+
+Sit , sir .
+
+Nay , then .
+
+I learn , you take things ill which are not so ,
+Or being , concern you not .
+
+I must be laugh'd at
+If , or for nothing or a little , I
+Should say myself offended , and with you
+Chiefly i' the world ; more laugh'd at that I should
+Once name you derogately , when to sound your name
+It not concern'd me .
+
+My being in Egypt , C sar ,
+What was 't to you ?
+
+No more than my residing here at Rome
+Might be to you in Egypt ; yet , if you there
+Did practise on my state , your being in Egypt
+Might be my question .
+
+How intend you , practis'd ?
+
+You may be pleas'd to catch at mine intent
+By what did here befall me . Your wife and brother
+Made wars upon me , and their contestation
+Was theme for you , you were the word of war .
+
+You do mistake your business ; my brother never
+Did urge me in his act : I did inquire it ;
+And have my learning from some true reports ,
+That drew their swords with you . Did he not rather
+Discredit my authority with yours ,
+And make the wars alike against my stomach ,
+Having alike your cause ? Of this my letters
+Before did satisfy you . If you'll patch a quarrel ,
+As matter whole you n' have to make it with ,
+It must not be with this .
+
+You praise yourself
+By laying defects of judgment to me , but
+You patch'd up your excuses .
+
+Not so , not so ;
+I know you could not lack , I am certain on 't ,
+Very necessity of this thought , that I ,
+Your partner in the cause 'gainst which he fought ,
+Could not with graceful eyes attend those wars
+Which fronted mine own peace . As for my wife ,
+I would you had her spirit in such another :
+The third o' the world is yours , which with a snaffle
+You may pace easy , but not such a wife .
+
+Would we had all such wives , that the men might go to wars with the women !
+
+So much uncurbable , her garboils , C sar ,
+Made out of her impatience ,which not wanted
+Shrewdness of policy too ,I grieving grant
+Did you too much disquiet ; for that you must
+But say I could not help it .
+
+I wrote to you
+When rioting in Alexandria ; you
+Did pocket up my letters , and with taunts
+Did gibe my missive out of audience .
+
+Sir ,
+He fell upon me , ere admitted : then
+Three kings I had newly feasted , and did want
+Of what I was i' the morning ; but next day
+I told him of myself , which was as much
+As to have ask'd him pardon . Let this fellow
+Be nothing of our strife ; if we contend ,
+Out of our question wipe him .
+
+You have broken
+The article of your oath , which you shall never
+Have tongue to charge me with .
+
+Soft , C sar !
+
+No ,
+Lepidus , let him speak :
+The honour's sacred which he talks on now ,
+Supposing that I lack'd it . But on , C sar ;
+The article of my oath .
+
+To lend me arms and aid when I requir'd them ,
+The which you both denied .
+
+Neglected , rather ;
+And then , when poison'd hours had bound me up
+From mine own knowledge . As nearly as I may ,
+I'll play the penitent to you ; but mine honesty
+Shall not make poor my greatness , nor my power
+Work without it . Truth is , that Fulvia ,
+To have me out of Egypt , made wars here ;
+For which myself , the ignorant motive , do
+So far ask pardon as befits mine honour
+To stoop in such a case .
+
+'Tis noble spoken .
+
+If it might please you , to enforce no further
+The griefs between ye : to forget them quite
+Were to remember that the present need
+Speaks to atone you .
+
+Worthily spoken , Mec nas .
+
+Or , if you borrow one another's love for the instant , you may , when you hear no more words of Pompey , return it again : you shall have time to wrangle in when you have nothing else to do .
+
+Thou art a soldier only ; speak no more .
+
+That truth should be silent I had almost forgot .
+
+You wrong this presence ; therefore speak no more .
+
+Go to , then ; your considerate stone .
+
+I do not much dislike the matter , but
+The manner of his speech ; for it cannot be
+We shall remain in friendship , our conditions
+So differing in their acts . Yet , if I knew
+What hoop should hold us stanch , from edge to edge
+O' the world I would pursue it .
+
+Give me leave , C sar .
+
+Speak , Agrippa .
+
+Thou hast a sister by the mother's side ,
+Admir'd Octavia ; great Mark Antony
+Is now a widower .
+
+Say not so , Agrippa :
+If Cleopatra heard you , your reproof
+Were well deserv'd of rashness .
+
+I am not married , C sar ; let me hear
+Agrippa further speak .
+
+To hold you in perpetual amity ,
+To make you brothers , and to knit your hearts
+With an unslipping knot , take Antony
+Octavia to his wife ; whose beauty claims
+No worse a husband than the best of men ,
+Whose virtue and whose general graces speak
+That which none else can utter . By this marriage ,
+All little jealousies which now seem great ,
+And all great fears which now import their dangers ,
+Would then be nothing ; truths would be but tales
+Where now half tales be truths ; her love to both
+Would each to other and all loves to both
+Draw after her . Pardon what I have spoke ,
+For 'tis a studied , not a present thought ,
+By duty ruminated .
+
+Will C sar speak ?
+
+Not till he hears how Antony is touch'd
+With what is spoke already .
+
+What power is in Agrippa ,
+If I would say , 'Agrippa , be it so ,'
+To make this good ?
+
+The power of C sar , and
+His power unto Octavia .
+
+May I never
+To this good purpose , that so fairly shows ,
+Dream of impediment ! Let me have thy hand ;
+Further this act of grace , and from this hour
+The heart of brothers govern in our loves
+And sway our great designs !
+
+There is my hand .
+A sister I bequeath you , whom no brother
+Did ever love so dearly ; let her live
+To join our kingdoms and our hearts , and never
+Fly off our loves again !
+
+Happily , amen !
+
+I did not think to draw my sword 'gainst Pompey ,
+For he hath laid strange courtesies and great
+Of late upon me ; I must thank him only ,
+Lest my remembrance suffer ill report ;
+At heel of that , defy him .
+
+Time calls upon 's :
+Of us must Pompey presently be sought ,
+Or else he seeks out us .
+
+Where lies he ?
+
+About the Mount Misenum .
+
+What's his strength
+By land ?
+
+Great and increasing ; but by sea
+He is an absolute master .
+
+So is the fame .
+Would we had spoke together ! Haste we for it ;
+Yet , ere we put ourselves in arms , dispatch we
+The business we have talk'd of .
+
+With most gladness ;
+And do invite you to my sister's view ,
+Whither straight I'll lead you .
+
+Let us , Lepidus ,
+Not lack your company .
+
+Noble Antony ,
+Not sickness should detain me .
+
+
+Welcome from Egypt , sir .
+
+Half the heart of C sar , worthy Mec nas ! My honourable friend , Agrippa !
+
+Good Enobarbus !
+
+We have cause to be glad that matters are so well digested . You stayed well by 't in
+Egypt .
+
+Ay , sir ; we did sleep day out of countenance , and made the night light with drinking .
+
+Eight wild boars roasted whole at a breakfast , and but twelve persons there ; is this true ?
+
+This was but as a fly by an eagle ; we had much more monstrous matter of feast , which worthily deserved noting .
+
+She's a most triumphant lady , if report be square to her .
+
+When she first met Mark Antony she pursed up his heart , upon the river of Cydnus .
+
+There she appeared indeed , or my reporter devised well for her .
+
+I will tell you .
+The barge she sat in , like a burnish'd throne ,
+Burn'd on the water ; the poop was beaten gold ,
+Purple the sails , and so perfumed , that
+The winds were love-sick with them , the oars were silver ,
+Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke , and made
+The water which they beat to follow faster ,
+As amorous of their strokes . For her own person ,
+It beggar'd all description ; she did lie
+In her pavilion ,cloth-of-gold of tissue ,
+O'er-picturing that Venus where we see
+The fancy outwork nature ; on each side her
+Stood pretty-dimpled boys , like smiling Cupids ,
+With divers-colour'd fans , whose wind did seem
+To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool ,
+And what they undid did .
+
+O ! rare for Antony .
+
+Her gentlewomen , like the Nereides ,
+So many mermaids , tended her i' the eyes ,
+And made their bends adornings ; at the helm
+A seeming mermaid steers ; the silken tackle
+Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands ,
+That yarely frame the office . From the barge
+A strange invisible perfume hits the sense
+Of the adjacent wharfs . The city cast
+Her people out upon her , and Antony ,
+Enthron'd i' the market-place , did sit alone ,
+Whistling to the air ; which , but for vacancy ,
+Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too
+And made a gap in nature .
+
+Rare Egyptian !
+
+Upon her landing , Antony sent to her ,
+Invited her to supper ; she replied
+It should be better he became her guest ,
+Which she entreated . Our courteous Antony ,
+Whom ne'er the word of 'No' woman heard speak ,
+Being barber'd ten times o'er , goes to the feast ,
+And , for his ordinary pays his heart
+For what his eyes eat only .
+
+Royal wench !
+She made great C sar lay his sword to bed ;
+He plough'd her , and she cropp'd .
+
+I saw her once
+Hop forty paces through the public street ;
+And having lost her breath , she spoke , and panted
+That she did make defect perfection ,
+And , breathless , power breathe forth .
+
+Now Antony must leave her utterly .
+
+Never ; he will not :
+Age cannot wither her , nor custom stale
+Her infinite variety ; other women cloy
+The appetites they feed , but she makes hungry
+Where most she satisfies ; for vilest things
+Become themselves in her , that the holy priests
+Bless her when she is riggish .
+
+If beauty , wisdom , modesty , can settle
+The heart of Antony , Octavia is
+A blessed lottery to him .
+
+Let us go .
+Good Enobarbus , make yourself my guest
+Whilst you abide here .
+
+Humbly , sir , I thank you .
+
+
+The world and my great office will sometimes
+Divide me from your bosom .
+
+All which time
+Before the gods my knee shall bow my prayers
+To them for you .
+
+Good night , sir . My Octavia ,
+Read not my blemishes in the world's report ;
+I have not kept my square , but that to come
+Shall all be done by the rule . Good night , dear lady .
+
+Good night , sir .
+
+Good night .
+
+Now , sirrah ; you do wish yourself in Egypt ?
+
+Would I had never come from thence , nor you
+Thither !
+
+If you can , your reason ?
+
+I see it in
+My motion , have it not in my tongue : but yet
+Hie you to Egypt again .
+
+Say to me ,
+Whose fortunes shall rise higher , C sar's or mine ?
+
+C sar's .
+Therefore , O Antony ! stay not by his side ;
+Thy demon that's thy spirit which keeps thee ,is
+Noble , courageous , high , unmatchable ,
+Where C sar's is not ; but near him thy angel
+Becomes a fear , as being o'erpower'd ; therefore
+Make space enough between you .
+
+Speak this no more .
+
+To none but thee ; no more but when to thee .
+If thou dost play with him at any game
+Thou art sure to lose , and , of that natural luck ,
+He beats thee 'gainst the odds ; thy lustre thickens
+When he shines by . I say again , thy spirit
+Is all afraid to govern thee near him ,
+But he away , 'tis noble .
+
+Get thee gone :
+Say to Ventidius I would speak with him .
+
+He shall to Parthia . Be it art or hap
+He hath spoken true ; the very dice obey him .
+And in our sports my better cunning faints
+Under his chance ; if we draw lots he speeds ,
+His cocks do win the battle still of mine
+When it is all to nought , and his quails ever
+Beat mine , inhoop'd , at odds . I will to Egypt ;
+And though I make this marriage for my peace ,
+I' the east my pleasure lies .
+
+
+O ! come , Ventidius ,
+You must to Parthia ; your commission's ready ;
+Follow me , and receive 't .
+
+Trouble yourselves no further ; pray you hasten
+Your generals after .
+
+Sir , Mark Antony
+Will e'en but kiss Octavia , and we'll follow .
+
+Till I shall see you in your soldier's dress ,
+Which will become you both , farewell .
+
+We shall ,
+As I conceive the journey , be at the Mount
+Before you , Lepidus .
+
+Your way is shorter ;
+My purposes to draw me much about :
+You 'll win two days upon me .
+
+Sir , good success !
+
+Sir , good success !
+
+Farewell .
+
+
+Give me some music ; music , moody food
+Of us that trade in love .
+
+The music , ho !
+
+
+Let it alone ; let 's to billiards : come , Charmian .
+
+My arm is sore ; best play with Mardian .
+
+As well a woman with a eunuch play'd
+As with a woman . Come , you 'll play with me , sir ?
+
+As well as I can , madam .
+
+And when good will is show'd , though't come too short ,
+The actor may plead pardon . I 'll none now .
+Give me mine angle ; we'll to the river : there
+My music playing far off I will betray
+Tawny-finn'd fishes ; my bended hook shall pierce
+Their slimy jaws ; and , as I draw them up ,
+I'll think them every one an Antony ,
+And say , 'Ah , ha !' you're caught .
+
+'Twas merry when
+You wager'd on your angling ; when your diver
+Did hang a salt-fish on his hook , which he
+With fervency drew up .
+
+That time O times !
+I laugh'd him out of patience ; and that night
+I laugh'd him into patience : and next morn ,
+Ere the ninth hour , I drunk him to his bed ;
+Then put my tires and mantles on him , whilst
+I wore his sword Philippan .
+
+
+O ! from Italy ;
+Ram thou thy fruitful tidings in mine ears ,
+
+That long time have been barren .
+
+Madam , madam ,
+
+Antony's dead ! if thou say so , villain ,
+Thou kill'st thy mistress ; but well and free ,
+If thou so yield him , there is gold , and here
+My bluest veins to kiss ; a hand that kings
+Have lipp'd , and trembled kissing .
+
+First , madam , he is well .
+
+Why , there's more gold .
+But , sirrah , mark , we use
+To say the dead are well : bring it to that ,
+The gold I give thee will I melt , and pour
+Down thy ill-uttering throat .
+
+Good madam , hear me .
+
+Well , go to , I will ;
+But there's no goodness in thy face ; if Antony
+Be free and healthful , so tart a favour
+To trumpet such good tidings ! if not well ,
+Thou shouldst come like a Fury crown'd with snakes ,
+Not like a formal man .
+
+Will't please you hear me ?
+
+I have a mind to strike thee ere thou speak'st :
+Yet , if thou say Antony lives , is well ,
+Or friends with C sar , or not captive to him ,
+I'll set thee in a shower of gold , and hail
+Rich pearls upon thee .
+
+Madam , he's well .
+
+Well said .
+
+And friends with C sar .
+
+Thou'rt an honest man .
+
+C sar and he are greater friends than ever .
+
+Make thee a fortune from me .
+
+But yet , madam ,
+
+I do not like 'but yet ,' it does allay
+The good precedence ; fie upon 'but yet !'
+'But yet' is as a gaoler to bring forth
+Some monstrous malefactor . Prithee , friend ,
+Pour out the pack of matter to mine ear ,
+The good and bad together . He's friends with C sar ;
+In state of health , thou sayst ; and thou sayst , free .
+
+Free , madam ! no ; I made no such report :
+He's bound unto Octavia .
+
+For what good turn ?
+
+For the best turn i' the bed .
+
+I am pale , Charmian !
+
+Madam , he's married to Octavia .
+
+The most infectious pestilence upon thee !
+
+
+Good madam , patience .
+
+What say you ? Hence ,
+
+Horrible villain ! or I'll spurn thine eyes
+Like balls before me ; I'll unhair thy head :
+
+Thou shalt be whipp'd with wire , and stew'd in brine ,
+Smarting in lingering pickle .
+
+Gracious madam ,
+I , that do bring the news made not the match .
+
+Say 'tis not so , a province I will give thee ,
+And make thy fortunes proud ; the blow thou hadst
+Shall make thy peace for moving me to rage ,
+And I will boot thee with what gift beside
+Thy modesty can beg .
+
+He's married , madam .
+
+Rogue ! thou hast liv'd too long .
+
+
+Nay , then I'll run .
+What mean you , madam ? I have made no fault .
+
+
+Good madam , keep yourself within yourself ;
+The man is innocent .
+
+Some innocents 'scape not the thunderbolt .
+Melt Egypt into Nile ! and kindly creatures
+Turn all to serpents ! Call the slave again :
+Though I am mad , I will not bite him . Call .
+
+He is afeard to come .
+
+I will not hurt him .
+
+These hands do lack nobility , that they strike
+A meaner than myself ; since I myself
+Have given myself the cause .
+
+
+Come hither , sir .
+Though it be honest , it is never good
+To bring bad news ; give to a gracious message
+A host of tongues , but let ill tidings tell
+
+Themselves when they be felt .
+
+I have done my duty .
+
+Is he married ?
+I cannot hate thee worser than I do
+If thou again say 'Yes .'
+
+He's married , madam .
+
+The gods confound thee ! dost thou hold there still ?
+
+Should I lie , madam ?
+
+O ! I would thou didst ,
+So half my Egypt were submerg'd and made
+A cistern for scal'd snakes . Go , get thee hence ;
+Hadst thou Narcissus in thy face , to me
+Thou wouldst appear most ugly . He is married ?
+
+I crave your highness' pardon .
+
+He is married ?
+
+Take no offence that I would not offend you ;
+To punish me for what you make me do
+Seems much unequal ; he's married to Octavia .
+
+O ! that his fault should make a knave of thee ,
+That art not what thou'rt sure of . Get thee hence ;
+The merchandise which thou hast brought from Rome
+Are all too dear for me ; lie they upon thy hand
+And be undone by 'em !
+
+
+Good your highness , patience .
+
+In praising Antony I have disprais'd C sar .
+
+Many times , madam .
+
+I am paid for 't now .
+Lead me from hence ;
+I faint . O Iras ! Charmian ! 'Tis no matter .
+Go to the fellow , good Alexas ; bid him
+Report the feature of Octavia , her years ,
+Her inclination , let him not leave out
+The colour of her hair : bring me word quickly .
+
+Let him forever go :let him not Charmian !
+Though he be painted one way like a Gorgon ,
+The other way's a Mars .
+
+Bid you Alexas
+Bring me word how tall she is . Pity me , Charmian ,
+But do not speak to me . Lead me to my chamber .
+
+
+Your hostages I have , so have you mine ;
+And we shall talk before we fight .
+
+Most meet
+That first we come to words , and therefore have we
+Our written purposes before us sent ;
+Which if thou hast consider'd , let us know
+If 'twill tie up thy discontented sword ,
+And carry back to Sicily much tall youth
+That else must perish here .
+
+To you all three ,
+The senators alone of this great world ,
+Chief factors for the gods , I do not know
+Wherefore my father should revengers want ,
+Having a son and friends ; since Julius C sar ,
+Who at Philippi the good Brutus ghosted ,
+There saw you labouring for him . What was 't
+That mov'd pale Cassius to conspire ? and what
+Made the all-honour'd , honest Roman , Brutus ,
+With the arm'd rest , courtiers of beauteous freedom ,
+To drench the Capitol , but that they would
+Have one man but a man ? And that is it
+Hath made me rig my navy , at whose burden
+The anger'd ocean foams , with which I meant
+To scourge the ingratitude that despiteful Rome
+Cast on my noble father .
+
+Take your time .
+
+Thou canst not fear us , Pompey , with thy sails ;
+We 'll speak with thee at sea : at land , thou know'st
+How much we do o'er-count thee .
+
+At land , indeed ,
+Thou dost o'er-count me of my father's house ;
+But , since the cuckoo builds not for himself ,
+Remain in 't as thou mayst .
+
+Be pleas'd to tell us
+For this is from the present how you take
+The offers we have sent you .
+
+There's the point .
+
+Which do not be entreated to , but weigh
+What it is worth embrac'd .
+
+And what may follow ,
+To try a larger fortune .
+
+You have made me offer
+Of Sicily , Sardinia ; and I must
+Rid all the sea of pirates ; then , to send
+Measures of wheat to Rome ; this 'greed upon ,
+To part with unhack'd edges , and bear back
+Our targets undinted .
+
+That's our offer .
+
+That's our offer .
+
+That's our offer .
+
+Know , then ,
+I came before you here a man prepar'd
+To take this offer ; but Mark Antony
+Put me to some impatience . Though I lose
+The praise of it by telling , you must know ,
+When C sar and your brother were at blows ,
+Your mother came to Sicily and did find
+Her welcome friendly .
+
+I have heard it , Pompey ;
+And am well studied for a liberal thanks
+Which I do owe you .
+
+Let me have your hand :
+I did not think , sir , to have met you here .
+
+The beds i' the east are soft ; and thanks to you ,
+That call'd me timelier than my purpose hither ,
+For I have gain'd by 't .
+
+Since I saw you last ,
+There is a change upon you .
+
+Well , I know not
+What counts harsh Fortune casts upon my face ,
+But in my bosom shall she never come
+To make my heart her vassal .
+
+Well met here .
+
+I hope so , Lepidus . Thus we are agreed .
+I crave our composition may be written
+And seal'd between us .
+
+That 's the next to do .
+
+We'll feast each other ere we part ; and let's
+Draw lots who shall begin .
+
+That will I , Pompey .
+
+No , Antony , take the lot :
+But , first or last , your fine Egyptian cookery
+Shall have the fame . I have heard that Julius C sar
+Grew fat with feasting there .
+
+You have heard much .
+
+I have fair meanings , sir .
+
+And fair words to them .
+
+Then , so much have I heard ;
+And I have heard Apollodorus carried
+
+No more of that : he did so .
+
+What , I pray you ?
+
+A certain queen to C sar in a mattress .
+
+I know thee now ; how far'st thou , soldier ?
+
+Well ;
+And well am like to do ; for I perceive
+Four feasts are toward .
+
+Let me shake thy hand ;
+I never hated thee . I have seen thee fight ,
+When I have envied thy behaviour .
+
+Sir ,
+I never lov'd you much , but I ha' prais'd ye
+When you have well deserv'd ten times as much
+As I have said you did .
+
+Enjoy thy plainness ,
+It nothing ill becomes thee .
+Aboard my galley I invite you all :
+Will you lead , lords ?
+
+Show us the way , sir .
+
+Show us the way , sir .
+
+Show us the way , sir .
+
+Come .
+
+
+Thy father , Pompey , would ne'er have made this treaty . You and I have known , sir .
+
+At sea , I think .
+
+We have , sir .
+
+You have done well by water .
+
+And you by land .
+
+I will praise any man that will praise me ; though it cannot be denied what I have done by land .
+
+Nor what I have done by water .
+
+Yes , something you can deny for your own safety ; you have been a great thief by sea .
+
+And you by land .
+
+There I deny my land service . But give me your hand , Menas ; if our eyes had authority , here they might take two thieves kissing .
+
+All men's faces are true , whatsoe'er their hands are .
+
+But there is never a fair woman has a true face .
+
+No slander ; they steal hearts .
+
+We came hither to fight with you .
+
+For my part , I am sorry it is turned to a drinking . Pompey doth this day laugh away his fortune .
+
+If he do , sure , he cannot weep it back again .
+
+You have said , sir . We looked not for Mark Antony here : pray you , is he married to Cleopatra ?
+
+C sar's sister is called Octavia .
+
+True , sir ; she was the wife of Caius Marcellus .
+
+But she is now the wife of Marcus Antonius .
+
+Pray ye , sir ?
+
+'Tis true .
+
+Then is C sar and he for ever knit together .
+
+If I were bound to divine of this unity , I would not prophesy so .
+
+I think the policy of that purpose made more in the marriage than the love of the parties .
+
+I think so too ; but you shall find the band that seems to tie their friendship together will be the very strangler of their amity . Octavia is of a holy , cold , and still conversation .
+
+Who would not have his wife so ?
+
+Not he that himself is not so ; which is Mark Antony . He will to his Egyptian dish again ; then , shall the sighs of Octavia blow the fire up in C sar , and , as I said before , that which is the strength of their amity shall prove the immediate author of their variance . Antony will use his affection where it is ; he married but his occasion here .
+
+And thus it may be . Come , sir , will you aboard ? I have a health for you .
+
+I shall take it , sir : we have used our throats in Egypt .
+
+Come ; let 's away .
+
+
+Here they'll be , man . Some o' their plants are ill-rooted already ; the least wind i' the world will blow them down .
+
+Lepidus is high-coloured .
+
+They have made him drink alms-drink .
+
+As they pinch one another by the disposition , he cries out , 'No more ;' reconciles them to his entreaty , and himself to the drink .
+
+But it raises the greater war between him and his discretion .
+
+Why , this it is to have a name in great men's fellowship ; I had as lief have a reed that will do me no service as a partisan I could not heave .
+
+To be called into a huge sphere , and not to be seen to move in't , are the holes where eyes should be , which pitifully disaster the cheeks .
+
+Thus do they , sir . They take the flow o' the Nile
+By certain scales i' the pyramid ; they know
+By the height , the lowness , or the mean , if dearth
+Or foison follow . The higher Nilus swells
+The more it promises ; as it ebbs , the seedsman
+Upon the slime and ooze scatters his grain ,
+And shortly comes to harvest .
+
+You've strange serpents there .
+
+Ay , Lepidus .
+
+Your serpent of Egypt is bred now of your mud by the operation of your sun ; so is your crocodile .
+
+They are so .
+
+Sit ,and some wine ! A health to Lepidus !
+
+I am not so well as I should be , but I'll ne'er out .
+
+Not till you have slept ; I fear me you'll be in till then .
+
+Nay , certainly , I have heard the Ptolemies' pyramises are very goodly things ; without contradiction , I have heard that .
+
+Pompey , a word .
+
+Say in mine ear ; what is't ?
+
+Forsake thy seat , I do beseech thee , captain ,
+And bear me speak a word .
+
+Forbear me till anon .
+This wine for Lepidus !
+
+What manner o' thing is your crocodile ?
+
+It is shaped , sir , like itself , and it is as broad as it hath breadth ; it is just so high as it is , and moves with it own organs ; it lives by that which nourisheth it ; and the elements once out of it , it transmigrates .
+
+What colour is it of ?
+
+Of it own colour too .
+
+'Tis a strange serpent .
+
+'Tis so ; and the tears of it are wet .
+
+Will this description satisfy him ?
+
+With the health that Pompey gives him , else he is a very epicure .
+
+Go hang , sir , hang ! Tell me of that ? away !
+Do as I bid you . Where's this cup I call'd for ?
+
+If for the sake of merit thou wilt hear me ,
+Rise from thy stool .
+
+I think thou'rt mad . The matter ?
+
+
+I have ever held my cap off to thy fortunes .
+
+Thou hast serv'd me with much faith . What 's else to say ?
+Be jolly , lords .
+
+These quick-sands , Lepidus ,
+Keep off them , for you sink .
+
+Wilt thou be lord of all the world ?
+
+What sayst thou ?
+
+Wilt thou be lord of the whole world ? That 's twice .
+
+How should that be ?
+
+But entertain it ,
+And though thou think me poor , I am the man
+Will give thee all the world .
+
+Hast thou drunk well ?
+
+No , Pompey , I have kept me from the cup .
+Thou art , if thou dar'st be , the earthly Jove :
+Whate'er the ocean pales , or sky inclips ,
+Is thine , if thou wilt ha 't .
+
+Show me which way .
+
+These three world-sharers , these competitors ,
+Are in thy vessel : let me cut the cable ;
+And , when we are put off , fall to their throats :
+All there is thine .
+
+Ah ! this thou shouldst have done ,
+And not have spoke on 't . In me 'tis villany ;
+In thee 't had been good service . Thou must know
+'Tis not my profit that does lead mine honour ;
+Mine honour it . Repent that e'er thy tongue
+Hath so betray'd thine act ; being done unknown ,
+I should have found it afterwards well done ,
+But must condemn it now . Desist , and drink .
+
+For this ,
+I'll never follow thy pall'd fortunes more .
+Who seeks , and will not take when once 'tis offer'd ,
+Shall never find it more .
+
+This health to Lepidus !
+
+Bear him ashore . I'll pledge it for him , Pompey .
+
+Here's to thee , Menas !
+
+Enobarbus , welcome !
+
+Fill till the cup be hid .
+
+There's a strong fellow , Menas .
+
+
+Why ?
+
+A' bears the third part of the world , man ; see'st not ?
+
+The third part then is drunk ; would it were all ,
+That it might go on wheels !
+
+Drink thou ; increase the reels .
+
+Come .
+
+This is not yet an Alexandrian feast .
+
+It ripens towards it . Strike the vessels , ho !
+Here is to C sar !
+
+I could well forbear't .
+It's monstrous labour , when I wash my brain ,
+And it grows fouler .
+
+Be a child o' the time .
+
+Possess it , I'll make answer ;
+But I had rather fast from all four days
+Than drink so much in one .
+
+Ha ! my brave emperor ;
+Shall we dance now the Egyptian Bacchanals ,
+And celebrate our drink ?
+
+Let 's ha 't , good soldier .
+
+Come , let 's all take hands ,
+Till that the conquering wine hath steep'd our sense
+In soft and delicate Lethe .
+
+All take hands .
+Make battery to our ears with the loud music ;
+The while I'll place you ; then the boy shall sing ,
+The holding every man shall bear as loud
+As his strong sides can volley .
+
+
+Come , thou monarch of the vine ,
+Plumpy Bacchus , with pink eyne !
+In thy fats our cares be drown'd ,
+With thy grapes our hairs be crown'd :
+Cup us , till the world go round ,
+Cup us , till the world go round !
+
+What would you more ? Pompey , good night . Good brother ,
+Let me request you off ; our graver business
+Frowns at this levity . Gentle lords , let's part ;
+You see we have burnt our cheeks ; strong Enobarb
+Is weaker than the wine , and mine own tongue
+Splits what it speaks ; the wild disguise hath almost
+Antick'd us all . What needs more words ? Good night .
+Good Antony , your hand .
+
+I'll try you on the shore .
+
+And shall , sir . Give's your hand .
+
+O , Antony !
+You have my father s house ,But , what ? we are friends .
+Come down into the boat .
+
+Take heed you fall not .
+
+Menas , I'll not on shore .
+
+No , to my cabin .
+These drums ! these trumpets , flutes ! what !
+Let Neptune hear we bid a loud farewell
+To these great fellows : sound and be hang'd ! sound out !
+
+
+Hoo ! says a' . There's my cap .
+
+Hoo ! noble captain ! come .
+
+
+Now , darting Parthia , art thou struck ; and now
+Pleas'd fortune does of Marcus Crassus' death
+Make me revenger . Bear the king's son's body
+Before our army . Thy Pacorus , Orodes ,
+Pays this for Marcus Crassus .
+
+Noble Ventidius ,
+Whilst yet with Parthian blood thy sword is warm ,
+The fugitive Parthians follow ; spur through Media ,
+Mesopotamia , and the shelters whither
+The routed fly ; so thy grand captain Antony
+Shall set thee on triumphant chariots and
+Put garlands on thy head .
+
+O Silius , Silius !
+I have done enough ; a lower place , note well ,
+May make too great an act ; for learn this , Silius ,
+Better to leave undone than by our deed
+Acquire too high a fame when him we serve's away .
+C sar and Antony have ever won
+More in their officer than person ; Sossius ,
+One of my place in Syria , his lieutenant ,
+For quick accumulation of renown ,
+Which he achiev'd by the minute , lost his favour .
+Who does i' the wars more than his captain can
+Becomes his captain's captain ; and ambition ,
+The soldier's virtue , rather makes choice of loss
+Than gain which darkens him .
+I could do more to do Antonius good ,
+But 'twould offend him ; and in his offence
+Should my performance perish .
+
+Thou hast , Ventidius , that
+Without the which a soldier , and his sword ,
+Grants scarce distinction . Thou wilt write to Antony ?
+
+I'll humbly signify what in his name ,
+That magical word of war , we have effected ;
+How , with his banners and his well-paid ranks ,
+The ne'er-yet-beaten horse of Parthia
+We have jaded out o' the field .
+
+Where is he now ?
+
+He purposeth to Athens ; whither , with what haste
+The weight we must convey with 's will permit ,
+We shall appear before him . On , there ; pass along .
+
+
+What ! are the brothers parted ?
+
+They have dispatch'd with Pompey ; he is gone ;
+The other three are sealing . Octavia weeps
+To part from Rome ; C sar is sad ; and Lepidus ,
+Since Pompey's feast , as Menas says , is troubled
+With the green sickness .
+
+'Tis a noble Lepidus .
+
+A very fine one . O ! how he loves C sar .
+
+Nay , but how dearly he adores Mark Antony !
+
+C sar ? Why , he's the Jupiter of men .
+
+What's Antony ? The god of Jupiter .
+
+Spake you of C sar ? How ! the non-pareil !
+
+O , Antony ! O thou Arabian bird !
+
+Would you praise C sar , say , 'C sar ,' go no further .
+
+Indeed , he plied them both with excellent praises .
+
+But he loves C sar best ; yet he loves Antony .
+Hoo ! hearts , tongues , figures , scribes , bards , poets , cannot
+Think , speak , cast , write , sing , number ; hoo !
+His love to Antony . But as for C sar ,
+Kneel down , kneel down , and wonder .
+
+Both he loves .
+
+They are his shards , and he their beetle .
+
+
+So ;
+This is to horse . Adieu , noble Agrippa .
+
+Good fortune , worthy soldier , and farewell .
+
+
+No further , sir .
+
+You take from me a great part of myself ;
+Use me well in't . Sister , prove such a wife
+As my thoughts make thee , and as my furthest band
+Shall pass on thy approof . Most noble Antony ,
+Let not the piece of virtue , which is set
+Betwixt us as the cement of our love
+To keep it builded , be the ram to batter
+The fortress of it ; for better might we
+Have lov'd without this mean , if on both parts
+This be not cherish'd .
+
+Make me not offended
+In your distrust .
+
+I have said .
+
+You shall not find ,
+Though you be therein curious , the least cause
+For what you seem to fear . So , the gods keep you ,
+And make the hearts of Romans serve your ends !
+We will here part .
+
+Farewell , my dearest sister , fare thee well :
+The elements be kind to thee , and make
+Thy spirits all of comfort ! fare thee well .
+
+My noble brother !
+
+The April's in her eyes ; it is love's spring ,
+And these the showers to bring it on . Be cheerful .
+
+Sir , look well to my husband's house ; and
+
+What ,
+Octavia ?
+
+I'll tell you in your ear .
+
+Her tongue will not obey her heart , nor can
+Her heart obey her tongue ; the swan's downfeather ,
+That stands upon the swell at full of tide ,
+And neither way inclines .
+
+Will C sar weep ?
+
+He has a cloud in's face .
+
+He were the worse for that were he a horse ;
+So is he , being a man .
+
+Why , Enobarbus ,
+When Antony found Julius C sar dead
+He cried almost to roaring ; and he wept
+When at Philippi he found Brutus slain .
+
+That year , indeed , he was troubled with a rheum ;
+What willingly he did confound he wail'd ,
+Believe 't , till I wept too .
+
+No , sweet Octavia ,
+You shall hear from me still ; the time shall not
+Out-go my thinking on you .
+
+Come , sir , come ;
+I'll wrestle with you in my strength of love :
+Look , here I have you ; thus I let you go ,
+And give you to the gods .
+
+Adieu ; be happy !
+
+Let all the number of the stars give light
+To thy fair way !
+
+Farewell , farewell !
+
+
+Farewell !
+
+
+Where is the fellow ?
+
+Half afeard to come .
+
+Go to , go to .
+
+Come hither , sir .
+
+Good majesty ,
+Herod of Jewry dare not look upon you
+But when you are well pleas'd .
+
+That Herod's head
+I'll have ; but how , when Antony is gone
+Through whom I might command it ? Come thou near .
+
+Most gracious majesty !
+
+Didst thou behold
+Octavia ?
+
+Ay , dread queen .
+
+Where ?
+
+Madam , in Rome ;
+I look'd her in the face , and saw her led
+Between her brother and Mark Antony .
+
+Is she as tall as me ?
+
+She is not , madam .
+
+Didst hear her speak ? is she shrill-tongu'd , or low ?
+
+Madam , I heard her speak ; she is low-voic'd .
+
+That's not so good . He cannot like her long .
+
+Like her ! O Isis ! 'tis impossible .
+
+I think so , Charmian : dull of tongue , and dwarfish !
+What majesty is in her gait ? Remember ,
+If e'er thou look'dst on majesty .
+
+She creeps ;
+Her motion and her station are as one ;
+She shows a body rather than a life ,
+A statue than a breather .
+
+Is this certain ?
+
+Or I have no observance .
+
+Three in Egypt
+Cannot make better note .
+
+He's very knowing ,
+I do perceive 't . There's nothing in her yet .
+The fellow has good judgment .
+
+Excellent .
+
+Guess at her years , I prithee .
+
+Madam ,
+She was a widow ,
+
+Widow ! Charmian , hark .
+
+And I do think she's thirty .
+
+Bear'st thou her face in mind ? is't long or round ?
+
+Round even to faultiness .
+
+For the most part , too , they are foolish that are so .
+Her hair , what colour ?
+
+Brown , madam ; and her forehead
+As low as she would wish it .
+
+There's gold for thee :
+Thou must not take my former sharpness ill .
+I will employ thee back again ; I find thee
+Most fit for business . Go , make thee ready ;
+Our letters are prepar'd .
+
+
+A proper man .
+
+Indeed , he is so ; I repent me much
+That so I harried him . Why , methinks , by him ,
+This creature's no such thing .
+
+Nothing , madam .
+
+The man hath seen some majesty , and should know .
+
+Hath he seen majesty ? Isis else defend ,
+And serving you so long !
+
+I have one thing more to ask him yet , good Charmian :
+But 'tis no matter ; thou shalt bring him to me
+Where I will write . All may be well enough .
+
+I warrant you , madam .
+
+
+Nay , nay , Octavia , not only that ,
+That were excusable , that , and thousands more
+Of semblable import , but he hath wag'd
+New wars 'gainst Pompey ; made his will , and read it
+To public ear :
+Spoke scantly of me ; when perforce he could not
+But pay me terms of honour , cold and sickly
+He vented them ; most narrow measure lent me ;
+When the best hint was given him , he not took 't ,
+Or did it from his teeth .
+
+O my good lord !
+Believe not all ; or , if you must believe ,
+Stomach not all . A more unhappy lady ,
+If this division chance , ne'er stood between ,
+Praying for both parts :
+The good gods will mock me presently ,
+When I shall pray , 'O ! bless my lord and husband ;'
+Undo that prayer , by crying out as loud ,
+'O ! bless my brother !' Husband win , win brother ,
+Prays , and destroys the prayer ; no midway
+'Twixt these extremes at all .
+
+Gentle Octavia ,
+Let your best love draw to that point which seeks
+Best to preserve it . If I lose mine honour
+I lose myself ; better I were not yours
+Than yours so branchless . But , as you requested ,
+Yourself shall go between's ; the mean time , lady ,
+I'll raise the preparation of a war
+Shall stain your brother ; make your soonest haste ,
+So your desires are yours .
+
+Thanks to my lord .
+The Jove of power make me most weak , most weak ,
+Your reconciler ! Wars 'twixt you twain would be
+As if the world should cleave , and that slain men
+Should solder up the rift .
+
+When it appears to you where this begins ,
+Turn your displeasure that way ; for our faults
+Can never be so equal that your love
+Can equally move with them . Provide your going ;
+Choose your own company , and command what cost
+Your heart has mind to .
+
+
+How now , friend Eros !
+
+There's strange news come , sir .
+
+What , man ?
+
+C sar and Lepidus have made wars upon Pompey .
+
+This is old : what is the success ?
+
+C sar , having made use of him in the wars 'gainst Pompey , presently denied him rivality , would not let him partake in the glory of the action ; and not resting here , accuses him of letters he had formerly wrote to Pompey ; upon his own appeal , seizes him : so the poor third is up , till death enlarge his confine .
+
+Then , world , thou hast a pair of chaps , no more ;
+And throw between them all the food thou hast ,
+They'll grind the one the other . Where's Antony ?
+
+He's walking in the garden thus : and spurns
+The rush that lies before him ; cries , 'Fool , Lepidus !'
+And threats the throat of that his officer
+That murder'd Pompey .
+
+Our great navy's rigg'd .
+
+For Italy and C sar . More , Domitius ;
+My lord desires you presently : my news
+I might have told hereafter .
+
+'Twill be naught ;
+But let it be . Bring me to Antony .
+
+Come , sir .
+
+
+Contemning Rome , he has done all this and more
+In Alexandria ; here's the manner of 't ;
+I' the market-place , on a tribunal silver'd ,
+Cleopatra and himself in chairs of gold
+Were publicly enthron'd ; at the feet sat
+C sarion , whom they call my father's son ,
+And all the unlawful issue that their lust
+Since then hath made between them . Unto her
+He gave the 'stablishment of Egypt ; made her
+Of Lower Syria , Cyprus , Lydia ,
+Absolute queen .
+
+This in the public eye ?
+
+I' the common show-place , where they exercise .
+His sons he there proclaim'd the kings of kings ;
+Great Media , Parthia , and Armenia
+He gave to Alexander ; to Ptolemy he assign'd
+Syria , Cilicia , and Ph nicia . She
+In the habiliments of the goddess Isis
+That day appear'd ; and oft before gave audience ,
+As 'tis reported , so .
+
+Let Rome be thus
+Informed .
+
+Who , queasy with his insolence
+Already , will their good thoughts call from him .
+
+The people know it ; and have now receiv'd
+His accusations .
+
+Whom does he accuse ?
+
+C sar ; and that , having in Sicily
+Sextus Pompeius spoil'd , we had not rated him
+His part o' the isle ; then does he say , he lent me
+Some shipping unrestor'd ; lastly , he frets
+That Lepidus of the triumvirate
+Should be depos'd ; and , being , that we detain
+All his revenue .
+
+Sir , this should be answer'd .
+
+'Tis done already , and the messenger gone .
+I have told him , Lepidus was grown too cruel ;
+That he his high authority abus'd ,
+And did deserve his change : for what I have conquer'd ,
+I grant him part ; but then , in his Armenia ,
+And other of his conquer'd kingdoms , I
+Demand the like .
+
+He'll never yield to that .
+
+Nor must not then be yielded to in this .
+
+
+Hail , C sar , and my lord ! hail , most dear C sar !
+
+That ever I should call thee cast-away !
+
+You have not call'd me so , nor have you cause .
+
+Why have you stol'n upon us thus ? You come not
+Like C sar's sister ; the wife of Antony
+Should have an army for an usher , and
+The neighs of horse to tell of her approach
+Long ere she did appear ; the trees by the way
+Should have borne men ; and expectation fainted ,
+Longing for what it had not ; nay , the dust
+Should have ascended to the roof of heaven ,
+Rais'd by your populous troops . But you are come
+A market-maid to Rome , and have prevented
+The ostentation of our love , which , left unshown ,
+Is often left unlov'd : we should have met you
+By sea and land , supplying every stage
+With an augmented greeting .
+
+Good my lord ,
+To come thus was I not constrain'd , but did it
+On my free-will . My lord , Mark Antony ,
+Hearing that you prepar'd for war , acquainted
+My grieved ear withal ; whereon , I begg'd
+His pardon for return .
+
+Which soon he granted ,
+Being an obstruct 'tween his lust and him .
+
+Do not say so , my lord .
+
+I have eyes upon him ,
+And his affairs come to me on the wind .
+Where is he now ?
+
+My lord , in Athens .
+
+No , my most wrong'd sister ; Cleopatra
+Hath nodded him to her . He hath given his empire
+Up to a whore ; who now are levying
+The kings o' the earth for war . He hath assembled
+Bocchus , the King of Libya ; Archelaus ,
+Of Cappadocia ; Philadelphos , King
+Of Paphlagonia ; the Thracian king , Adallas ;
+King Malchus of Arabia ; King of Pont ;
+Herod of Jewry ; Mithridates , King
+Of Comagene ; Polemon and Amintas ,
+The Kings of Mede and Lycaonia ,
+With a more larger list of sceptres .
+
+Ay me , most wretched ,
+That have my heart parted betwixt two friends
+That do afflict each other !
+
+Welcome hither :
+Your letters did withhold our breaking forth ,
+Till we perceiv'd both how you were wrong led
+And we in negligent danger . Cheer your heart ;
+Be you not troubled with the time , which drives
+O'er your content these strong necessities ,
+But let determin'd things to destiny
+Hold unbewail'd their way . Welcome to Rome ;
+Nothing more dear to me . You are abus'd
+Beyond the mark of thought , and the high gods ,
+To do you justice , make their ministers
+Of us and those that love you . Best of comfort ,
+And ever welcome to us .
+
+Welcome , lady .
+
+Welcome , dear madam .
+Each heart in Rome does love and pity you ;
+Only the adulterous Antony , most large
+In his abominations , turns you off ,
+And gives his potent regiment to a trull ,
+That noises it against us .
+
+Is it so , sir ?
+
+Most certain . Sister , welcome ; pray you ,
+Be ever known to patience ; my dearest sister !
+
+
+I will be even with thee , doubt it not .
+
+But why , why , why ?
+
+Thou hast forspoke my being in these wars ,
+And sayst it is not fit .
+
+Well , is it , is it ?
+
+If not denounc'd against us , why should not we
+Be there in person ?
+
+Well , I could reply :
+If we should serve with horse and mares together ,
+The horse were merely lost ; the mares would bear
+A soldier and his horse .
+
+What is 't you say ?
+
+Your presence needs must puzzle Antony ;
+Take from his heart , take from his brain , from 's time ,
+What should not then be spar'd . He is already
+Traduc'd for levity , and 'tis said in Rome
+That Photinus a eunuch and your maids
+Manage this war .
+
+Sink Rome , and their tongues rot
+That speak against us ! A charge we bear i' the war ,
+And , as the president of my kingdom , will
+Appear there for a man . Speak not against it ;
+I will not stay behind .
+
+Nay , I have done .
+Here comes the emperor .
+
+
+Is it not strange , Canidius ,
+That from Tarentum and Brundusium
+He could so quickly cut the Ionian sea ,
+And take in Toryne ? You have heard on 't , sweet ?
+
+Celerity is never more admir'd
+Than by the negligent .
+
+A good rebuke ,
+Which might have well becom'd the best of men ,
+To taunt at slackness . Canidius , we
+Will fight with him by sea .
+
+By sea ! What else ?
+
+Why will my lord do so ?
+
+For that he dares us to 't .
+
+So hath my lord dar'd him to single fight .
+
+Ay , and to wage his battle at Pharsalia ,
+Where C sar fought with Pompey ; but these offers ,
+Which serve not for his vantage , he shakes off ;
+And so should you .
+
+Your ships are not well mann'd ;
+Your mariners are muleters , reapers , people
+Ingross'd by swift impress ; in C sar's fleet
+Are those that often have gainst Pompey fought :
+Their ships are yare ; yours , heavy . No disgrace
+Shall fall you for refusing him at sea ,
+Being prepar'd for land .
+
+By sea , by sea .
+
+Most worthy sir , you therein throw away
+The absolute soldiership you have by land ;
+Distract your army , which doth most consist
+Of war-mark'd footmen ; leave unexecuted
+Your own renowned knowledge ; quite forego
+The way which promises assurance ; and
+Give up yourself merely to chance and hazard
+From firm security .
+
+I'll fight at sea .
+
+I have sixty sails , C sar none better .
+
+Our overplus of shipping will we burn ;
+And with the rest , full-mann'd , from the head of Actium
+Beat the approaching C sar . But if we fail ,
+We then can do 't at land .
+
+Thy business ?
+
+The news is true , my lord ; he is descried ;
+C sar has taken Toryne .
+
+Can he be there in person ? 'tis impossible ;
+Strange that his power should be . Canidius ,
+Our nineteen legions thou shalt hold by land ,
+And our twelve thousand horse . We'll to our ship :
+Away , my Thetis !
+
+How now , worthy soldier !
+
+O noble emperor ! do not fight by sea ;
+Trust not to rotten planks : do you misdoubt
+This sword and these my wounds ? Let the Egyptians
+And the Ph nicians go a-ducking ; we
+Have used to conquer , standing on the earth ,
+And fighting foot to foot .
+
+Well , well : away !
+
+
+By Hercules , I think I am i' the right .
+
+Soldier , thou art ; but his whole action grows
+Not in the power on 't : so our leader's led ,
+And we are women's men .
+
+You keep by land
+The legions and the horse whole , do you not ?
+
+Marcus Octavius , Marcus Justeius ,
+Publicola , and C lius , are for sea ;
+But we keep whole by land . This speed of C sar's
+Carries beyond belief .
+
+While he was yet in Rome
+His power went out in such distractions as
+Beguil'd all spies .
+
+Who's his lieutenant , hear you ?
+
+They say , one Taurus .
+
+Well I know the man .
+
+
+The emperor calls Canidius .
+
+With news the time's with labour , and throes forth
+Each minute some .
+
+
+Taurus !
+
+My lord ?
+
+Strike not by land ; keep whole : provoke not battle .
+Till we have done at sea . Do not exceed
+The prescript of this scroll : our fortune lies
+Upon this jump .
+
+Set we our squadrons on yond side o' the hill ,
+In eye of C sar's battle ; from which place
+We may the number of the ships behold ,
+And so proceed accordingly .
+
+
+Naught , naught , all naught ! I can behold no longer .
+The Antoniad , the Egyptian admiral ,
+With all their sixty , fly , and turn the rudder ;
+To see 't mine eyes are blasted .
+
+
+Gods and goddesses ,
+All the whole synod of them !
+
+What's thy passion ?
+
+The greater cantle of the world is lost
+With very ignorance ; we have kiss'd away
+Kingdoms and provinces .
+
+How appears the fight ?
+
+On our side like the token'd pestilence ,
+Where death is sure . Yon ribaudred nag of Egypt ,
+Whom leprosy o'ertake ! i' the midst o' the fight ,
+When vantage like a pair of twins appear'd ,
+Both as the same , or rather ours the elder ,
+The breese upon her , like a cow in June ,
+Hoists sails and flies .
+
+That I beheld :
+Mine eyes did sicken at the sight , and could not
+Endure a further view .
+
+She once being loof'd ,
+The noble ruin of her magic , Antony ,
+Clapson his sea-wing , and like a doting mallard ,
+Leaving the fight in height , flies after her .
+I never saw an action of such shame ;
+Experience , manhood , honour , ne'er before
+Did violate so itself .
+
+Alack , alack !
+
+
+Our fortune on the sea is out of breath ,
+And sinks most lamentably . Had our general
+Been what he knew himself , it had gone well :
+O ! he has given example for our flight
+Most grossly by his own .
+
+Ay , are you thereabouts ?
+Why , then , good night , indeed .
+
+Towards Peloponnesus are they fled .
+
+'Tis easy to 't ; and there I will attend
+What further comes .
+
+To C sar will I render
+My legions and my horse ; six kings already
+Show me the way of yielding .
+
+I'll yet follow
+The wounded chance of Antony , though my reason
+Sits in the wind against me .
+
+
+Hark ! the land bids me tread no more upon 't ;
+It is asham'd to bear me . Friends , come hither :
+I am so lated in the world that I
+Have lost my way for ever . I have a ship
+Laden with gold ; take that , divide it ; fly ,
+And make your peace with C sar .
+
+Fly ! not we .
+
+I have fled myself , and have instructed cowards
+To run and show their shoulders . Friends , be gone ;
+I have myself resolv'd upon a course
+Which has no need of you ; be gone :
+My treasure's in the harbour , take it . O !
+I follow'd that I blush to look upon :
+My very hairs do mutiny , for the white
+Reprove the brown for rashness , and they them
+For fear and doting . Friends , be gone ; you shall
+Have letters from me to some friends that will
+Sweep your way for you . Pray you , look not sad ,
+Nor make replies of loathness ; take the hint
+Which my despair proclaims ; let that be left
+Which leaves itself ; to the sea-side straightway ;
+I will possess you of that ship and treasure .
+Leave me , I pray , a little ; pray you now :
+Nay , do so ; for , indeed , I have lost command ,
+Therefore I pray you . I'll see you by and by .
+
+Nay , gentle madam , to him , comfort him .
+
+Do , most dear queen .
+
+Do ! Why , what else ?
+
+Let me sit down . O Juno !
+
+No , no , no , no , no .
+
+See you here , sir ?
+
+O fie , fie , fie !
+
+Madam !
+
+Madam ; O good empress !
+
+Sir , sir !
+
+Yes , my lord , yes . He , at Philippi kept
+His sword e'en like a dancer , while I struck
+The lean and wrinkled Cassius ; and 'twas I
+That the mad Brutus ended : he alone
+Dealt on lieutenantry , and no practice had
+In the brave squares of war : yet now No matter .
+
+Ah ! stand by .
+
+The queen , my lord , the queen .
+
+Go to him , madam , speak to him ;
+He is unqualitied with very shame .
+
+Well then , sustain me : O !
+
+Most noble sir , arise ; the queen approaches :
+Her head's declin'd , and death will seize her , but
+Your comfort makes the rescue .
+
+I have offended reputation ,
+A most unnoble swerving .
+
+Sir , the queen .
+
+O ! whither hast thou led me , Egypt ? See ,
+How I convey my shame out of thine eyes
+By looking back what I have left behind
+'Stroy'd in dishonour .
+
+O my lord , my lord !
+Forgive my fearful sails : I little thought
+You would have follow'd .
+
+Egypt , thou knew'st too well
+My heart was to thy rudder tied by the strings ,
+And thou shouldst tow me after ; o'er my spirit
+Thy full supremacy thou knew'st , and that
+Thy beck might from the bidding of the gods
+Command me .
+
+O ! my pardon .
+
+Now I must
+To the young man send humble treaties , dodge
+And palter in the shifts of lowness , who
+With half the bulk o' the world play'd as I pleas'd ,
+Making and marring fortunes . You did know
+How much you were my conqueror , and that
+My sword , made weak by my affection , would
+Obey it on all cause .
+
+Pardon , pardon !
+
+Fall not a tear , I say ; one of them rates
+All that is won and lost . Give me a kiss ;
+Even this repays me . We sent our schoolmaster ;
+Is he come back ? Love , I am full of lead .
+Some wine , within there , and our viands ! Fortune knows ,
+We scorn her most when most she offers blows .
+
+Let him appear that's come from Antony .
+Know you him ?
+
+C sar , 'tis his schoolmaster :
+An argument that he is pluck'd , when hither
+He sends so poor a pinion of his wing ,
+Which had superfluous kings for messengers
+Not many moons gone by .
+
+
+Approach , and speak .
+
+Such as I am , I come from Antony :
+I was of late as petty to his ends
+As is the morn-dew on the myrtle-leaf
+To his grand sea .
+
+Be 't so . Declare thine office .
+
+Lord of his fortunes he salutes thee , and
+Requires to live in Egypt ; which not granted ,
+He lessens his requests , and to thee sues
+To let him breathe between the heavens and earth ,
+A private man in Athens ; this for him .
+Next , Cleopatra does confess thy greatness ,
+Submits her to thy might , and of thee craves
+The circle of the Ptolemies for her heirs ,
+Now hazarded to thy grace .
+
+For Antony ,
+I have no ears to his request . The queen
+Of audience nor desire shall fail , so she
+From Egypt drive her all-disgraced friend ,
+Or take his life there ; this if she perform ,
+She shall not sue unheard . So to them both .
+
+Fortune pursue thee !
+
+Bring him through the bands .
+
+From Antony win Cleopatra ; promise ,
+And in our name , what she requires ; add more ,
+From thine invention , offers . Women are not
+In their best fortunes strong , but want will perjure
+The ne'er-touch'd vestal . Try thy cunning , Thyreus ;
+Make thine own edict for thy pains , which we
+
+Will answer as a law .
+
+C sar , I go .
+
+Observe how Antony becomes his flaw ,
+And what thou think'st his very action speaks
+In every power that moves .
+
+C sar , I shall .
+
+What shall we do , Enobarbus ?
+
+Think , and die .
+
+Is Antony or we , in fault for this ?
+
+Antony only , that would make his will
+Lord of his reason . What though you fled
+From that great face of war , whose several ranges
+Frighted each other , why should he follow ?
+The itch of his affection should not then
+Have nick'd his captainship ; at such a point ,
+When half to half the world oppos'd , he being
+The mered question . 'Twas a shame no less
+Than was his loss , to course your flying flags ,
+And leave his navy gazing .
+
+Prithee , peace .
+
+
+Is that his answer ?
+
+Ay , my lord .
+
+The queen shall then have courtesy , so she
+Will yield us up ?
+
+He says so .
+
+Let her know't .
+To the boy C sar send this grizzled head ,
+And he will fill thy wishes to the brim
+With principalities .
+
+That head , my lord ?
+
+To him again . Tell him he wears the rose
+Of youth upon him , from which the world should note
+Something particular ; his coin , ships , legions ,
+May be a coward's , whose ministers would prevail
+Under the service of a child as soon
+As i' the command of C sar : I dare him therefore
+To lay his gay comparisons apart ,
+And answer me declin'd , sword against sword ,
+Ourselves alone . I'll write it : follow me .
+
+
+Yes , like enough , high-battled C sar will
+Unstate his happiness , and be stag'd to the show
+Against a sworder ! I see men's judgments are
+A parcel of their fortunes , and things outward
+Do draw the inward quality after them ,
+To suffer all alike . That he should dream ,
+Knowing all measures , the full C sar will
+Answer his emptiness ! C sar , thou hast subdu'd
+His judgment too .
+
+
+A messenger from C sar .
+
+What ! no more ceremony ? See ! my women ;
+Against the blown rose may they stop their nose ,
+That kneel'd unto the buds . Admit him , sir .
+
+
+Mine honesty and I begin to square .
+The loyalty well held to fools does make
+Our faith mere folly ; yet he that can endure
+To follow with allegiance a fall'n lord ,
+Does conquer him that did his master conquer ,
+And earns a place i' the story .
+
+
+C sar's will ?
+
+Hear it apart .
+
+None but friends ; say boldly .
+
+So , haply , are they friends to Antony .
+
+He needs as many , sir , as C sar has ,
+Or needs not us . If C sar please , our master
+Will leap to be his friend ; for us , you know
+Whose he is we are , and that is C sar's .
+
+So .
+Thus then , thou most renown'd : C sar entreats ,
+Not to consider in what case thou stand'st ,
+Further than he is C sar .
+
+Go on ; right royal .
+
+He knows that you embrace not Antony
+As you did love , but as you fear'd him .
+
+O !
+
+The scars upon your honour therefore he
+Does pity , as constrained blemishes ,
+Not as deserv'd .
+
+He is a god , and knows
+What is most right . Mine honour was not yielded ,
+But conquer'd merely .
+
+To be sure of that ,
+I will ask Antony . Sir , sir , thou'rt so leaky ,
+That we must leave thee to thy sinking , for
+Thy dearest quit thee .
+
+
+Shall I say to C sar
+What you require of him ? for he partly begs
+To be desir'd to give . It much would please him ,
+That of his fortunes you should make a staff
+To lean upon ; but it would warm his spirits
+To hear from me you had left Antony ,
+And put yourself under his shroud ,
+The universal landlord .
+
+What's your name ?
+
+My name is Thyreus .
+
+Most kind messenger ,
+Say to great C sar this : in deputation
+I kiss his conqu'ring hand ; tell him , I am prompt
+To lay my crown at 's feet , and there to kneel ;
+Tell him , from his all-obeying breath I hear
+The doom of Egypt .
+
+'Tis your noblest course .
+Wisdom and fortune combating together ,
+If that the former dare but what it can ,
+No chance may shake it . Give me grace to lay
+My duty on your hand .
+
+Your C sar's father oft ,
+When he hath mus'd of taking kingdoms in ,
+Bestow'd his lips on that unworthy place ,
+As it rain'd kisses .
+
+
+Favours , by Jove that thunders !
+What art thou , fellow ?
+
+One that but performs
+The bidding of the fullest man , and worthiest
+To have command obey'd .
+
+You will be whipp'd .
+
+Approach there ! Ah , you kite ! Now , gods and devils !
+Authority melts from me : of late , when I cried 'Ho !'
+Like boys unto a muss , kings would start forth ,
+And cry , 'Your will ?' Have you no ears ? I am
+Antony yet .
+
+Take hence this Jack and whip him .
+
+'Tis better playing with a lion's whelp
+Than with an old one dying .
+
+Moon and stars !
+Whip him . Were't twenty of the greatest tributaries
+That do acknowledge C sar , should I find them
+So saucy with the hand of she here , what's her name ,
+Since she was Cleopatra ? Whip him , fellows ,
+Till , like a boy , you see him cringe his face
+And whine aloud for mercy ; take him hence .
+
+Mark Antony ,
+
+Tug him away ; being whipp'd ,
+Bring him again ; this Jack of C sar's shall
+Bear us an errand to him .
+
+You were half blasted ere I knew you : ha !
+Have I my pillow left unpress'd in Rome ,
+Forborne the getting of a lawful race ,
+And by a gem of women , to be abus'd
+By one that looks on feeders ?
+
+Good my lord ,
+
+You have been a boggler ever :
+But when we in our viciousness grow hard ,
+O misery on 't !the wise gods seel our eyes ;
+In our own filth drop our clear judgments ; make us
+Adore our errors ; laugh at 's while we strut
+To our confusion .
+
+O ! is't come to this ?
+
+I found you as a morsel , cold upon
+Dead C sar's trencher ; nay , you were a fragment
+Of Cneius Pompey's ; besides what hotter hours ,
+Unregister'd in vulgar fame , you have
+Luxuriously pick'd out ; for , I am sure ,
+Though you can guess what temperance should be ,
+You know not what it is .
+
+Wherefore is this ?
+
+To let a fellow that will take rewards
+And say 'God quit you !' be familiar with
+My playfellow , your hand ; this kingly seal
+And plighter of high hearts . O ! that I were
+Upon the hill of Basan , to outroar
+The horned herd ; for I have savage cause ;
+And to proclaim it civilly were like
+A halter'd neck , which does the hangman thank
+For being yare about him .
+
+Is he whipp'd ?
+
+Soundly , my lord .
+
+Cried he ? and begg'd a' pardon ?
+
+He did ask favour .
+
+If that thy father live , let him repent
+Thou wast not made his daughter ; and be thou sorry
+To follow C sar in his triumph , since
+Thou hast been whipp'd for following him : henceforth ,
+The white hand of a lady fever thee ,
+Shake thou to look on 't . Get thee back to C sar ,
+Tell him thy entertainment ; look , thou say
+He makes me angry with him ; for he seems
+Proud and disdainful , harping on what I am ,
+Not what he knew I was : he makes me angry ;
+And at this time most easy 'tis to do 't ,
+When my good stars , that were my former guides ,
+Have empty left their orbs , and shot their fires
+Into the abysm of hell . If he mislike
+My speech and what is done , tell him he has
+Hipparchus , my enfranched bondman , whom
+He may at pleasure whip , or hang , or torture ,
+As he shall like , to quit me : urge it thou :
+Hence with thy stripes ; be gone !
+
+
+Have you done yet ?
+
+Alack ! our terrene moon
+Is now eclips'd ; and it portends alone
+The fall of Antony .
+
+I must stay his time .
+
+To flatter C sar , would you mingle eyes
+With one that ties his points ?
+
+Not know me yet ?
+
+Cold-hearted toward me ?
+
+Ah ! dear , if I be so ,
+From my cold heart let heaven engender hail ,
+And poison it in the source ; and the first stone
+Drop in my neck : as it determines , so
+Dissolve my life . The next C sarion smite ,
+Till by degrees the memory of my womb ,
+Together with my brave Egyptians all ,
+By the discandying of this pelleted storm ,
+Lie graveless , till the flies and gnats of Nile
+Have buried them for prey !
+
+I am satisfied .
+C sar sits down in Alexandria , where
+I will oppose his fate . Our force by land
+Hath nobly held ; our sever'd navy too
+Have knit again , and fleet , threat'ning most sea-like .
+Where hast thou been , my heart ? Dost thou hear , lady ?
+If from the field I shall return once more
+To kiss these lips , I will appear in blood ;
+I and my sword will earn our chronicle :
+There's hope in 't yet .
+
+That's my brave lord !
+
+I will betreble-sinew'd , hearted , breath'd ,
+And fight maliciously ; for when mine hours
+Were nice and lucky , men did ransom lives
+Of me for jests ; but now I'll set my teeth ,
+And send to darkness all that stop me . Come ,
+Let's have one other gaudy night : call to me
+All my sad captains ; fill our bowls once more ;
+Let's mock the midnight bell .
+
+It is my birth-day :
+I had thought to have held it poor ; but , since my lord
+Is Antony again , I will be Cleopatra .
+
+We will yet do well .
+
+Call all his noble captains to my lord .
+
+Do so , we'll speak to them ; and to-night I'll force
+The wine peep through their scars . Come on , my queen ;
+There's sap in 't yet . The next time I do fight
+I'll make death love me , for I will contend
+Even with his pestilent scythe .
+
+
+Now he'll outstare the lightning . To be furious
+Is to be frighted out of fear , and in that mood
+The dove will peck the estridge ; and I see still ,
+A diminution in our captain's brain
+Restores his heart . When valour preys on reason
+It eats the sword it fights with . I will seek
+Some way to leave him .
+
+He calls me boy , and chides as he had power
+To beat me out of Egypt ; my messenger
+He hath whipp'd with rods ; dares me to personal combat ,
+C sar to Antony . Let the old ruffian know
+I have many other ways to die ; meantime
+Laugh at his challenge .
+
+C sar must think ,
+When one so great begins to rage , he's hunted
+Even to falling . Give him no breath , but now
+Make boot of his distraction : never anger
+Made good guard for itself .
+
+Let our best heads
+Know that to-morrow the last of many battles
+We mean to fight . Within our files there are ,
+Of those that serv'd Mark Antony but late ,
+Enough to fetch him in . See it done ;
+And feast the army ; we have store to do 't ,
+And they have earn'd the waste . Poor Antony !
+
+
+He will not fight with me , Domitius .
+
+No .
+
+Why should he not ?
+
+He thinks , being twenty times of better fortune ,
+He is twenty men to one .
+
+To-morrow , soldier ,
+By sea and land I'll fight : or I will live ,
+Or bathe my dying honour in the blood
+Shall make it live again . Woo't thou fight well ?
+
+I'll strike , and cry , 'Take all .'
+
+Well said ; come on .
+Call forth my household servants ; let's to-night
+Be bounteous at our meal .
+
+
+Give me thy hand ,
+Thou hast been rightly honest ; so hast thou ;
+Thou ; and thou , and thou : you have serv'd me well ,
+
+And kings have been your fellows .
+
+What means this ?
+
+'Tis one of those odd tricks which sorrow shoots
+Out of the mind .
+
+And thou art honest too .
+I wish I could be made so many men ,
+And all of you clapp'd up together in
+An Antony , that I might do you service
+So good as you have done .
+
+The gods forbid !
+
+Well , my good fellows , wait on me to-night ,
+Scant not my cups , and make as much of me
+As when mine empire was your fellow too ,
+And suffer'd my command .
+
+What does he mean ?
+
+To make his followers weep .
+
+Tend me to-night ;
+May be it is the period of your duty :
+Haply , you shall not see me more ; or if ,
+A mangled shadow : perchance to-morrow
+You'll serve another master . I look on you
+As one that takes his leave . Mine honest friends ,
+I turn you not away ; but , like a master
+Married to your good service , stay till death .
+Tend me to-night two hours , I ask no more ,
+And the gods yield you for 't !
+
+What mean you , sir ,
+To give them this discomfort ? Look , they weep ;
+And I , an ass , am onion-ey'd : for shame ,
+Transform us not to women .
+
+Ho , ho , ho !
+Now , the witch take me , if I meant it thus !
+Grace grow where those drops fall ! My hearty friends ,
+You take me in too dolorous a sense ,
+For I spake to you for your comfort ; did desire you
+To burn this night with torches . Know , my hearts ,
+I hope well of to-morrow ; and will lead you
+Where rather I'll expect victorious life
+Than death and honour . Let's to supper , come ,
+And drown consideration .
+
+
+Brother , good night ; to-morrow is the day .
+
+It will determine one way ; fare you well .
+Heard you of nothing strange about the streets ?
+
+Nothing . What news ?
+
+Belike , 'tis but a rumour . Good night to you .
+
+Well , sir , good night .
+
+
+Soldiers , have careful watch .
+
+And you . Good night , good night .
+
+
+Here we :
+
+And if to-morrow
+Our navy thrive , I have an absolute hope
+Our landmen will stand up .
+
+'Tis a brave army ,
+And full of purpose .
+
+
+Peace ! what noise ?
+
+List , list !
+
+Hark !
+
+Music i' the air .
+
+Under the earth .
+
+It signs well , does it not ?
+
+No .
+
+Peace , I say !
+What should this mean ?
+
+'Tis the god Hercules , whom Antony lov'd ,
+Now leaves him .
+
+Walk ; let's see if other watchmen
+Do hear what we do .
+
+
+How now , masters !
+
+How now !
+How now !do you hear this ?
+
+Ay ; is 't not strange ?
+
+Do you hear , masters ? do you hear ?
+
+Follow the noise so far as we have quarter ;
+Let's see how 't will give off .
+
+Content .'Tis strange .
+
+
+Eros ! mine armour , Eros !
+
+Sleep a little .
+
+No , my chuck . Eros , come ; mine armour , Eros !
+
+Come , good fellow , put mine iron on :
+If Fortune be not ours to-day , it is
+Because we brave her . Come .
+
+Nay , I'll help too .
+What's this for ?
+
+Ah ! let be , let be ; thou art
+The armourer of my heart : false , false ; this , this .
+
+Sooth , la ! I'll help : thus it must be .
+
+Well , well ;
+We shall thrive now . Seest thou , my good fellow ?
+Go put on thy defences .
+
+Briefly , sir .
+
+Is not this buckled well ?
+
+Rarely , rarely :
+He that unbuckles this , till we do please
+To daff 't for our repose , shall hear a storm .
+Thou fumblest , Eros ; and my queen's a squire
+More tight at this than thou : dispatch . O love !
+That thou couldst see my wars to-day , and knew'st
+The royal occupation , thou shouldst see
+A workman in 't .
+
+
+Good morrow to thee ; welcome ;
+Thou look'st like him that knows a war-like charge :
+To business that we love we rise betime ,
+
+And go to 't with delight .
+
+A thousand , sir ,
+Early though 't be , have on their riveted trim ,
+And at the port expect you .
+
+The morn is fair . Good morrow , general .
+
+Good morrow , general .
+
+'Tis well blown , lads .
+This morning , like the spirit of a youth
+That means to be of note , begins betimes .
+So , so ; come , give me that : this way ; well said .
+Fare thee well , dame , whate'er becomes of me ;
+This is a soldier's kiss .
+
+Rebukeable
+And worthy shameful check it were , to stand
+On more mechanic compliment ; I'll leave thee
+Now , like a man of steel . You that will fight ,
+Follow me close ; I'll bring you to 't . Adieu .
+
+
+Please you , retire to your chamber .
+
+Lead me .
+He goes forth gallantly . That he and C sar might
+Determine this great war in single fight !
+Then , Antony ,but now .Well , on .
+
+
+The gods make this a happy day to Antony !
+
+Would thou and those thy scars had once prevail'd
+To make me fight at land !
+
+Hadst thou done so ,
+The kings that have revolted , and the soldier
+That has this morning left thee , would have still
+Follow'd thy heels .
+
+Who's gone this morning ?
+
+Who !
+One ever near thee : call for Enobarbus ,
+He shall not hear thee ; or from C sar's camp
+Say , 'I am none of thine .'
+
+What sayst thou ?
+
+Sir ,
+He is with C sar .
+
+Sir , his chests and treasure
+He has not with him .
+
+Is he gone ?
+
+Most certain .
+
+Go , Eros , send his treasure after ; do it ;
+Detain no jot , I charge thee . Write to him
+I will subscribe gentle adieus and greetings ;
+Say that I wish he never find more cause
+To change a master . O ! my fortunes have
+Corrupted honest men . Dispatch . Enobarbus !
+
+
+Go forth , Agrippa , and begin the fight :
+Our will is Antony be took alive ;
+Make it so known .
+
+C sar , I shall .
+
+
+The time of universal peace is near :
+Prove this a prosperous day , the three-nook'd world
+Shall bear the olive freely .
+
+
+Antony
+Is come into the field .
+
+Go charge Agrippa
+Plant those that have revolted in the van ,
+That Antony may seem to spend his fury
+Upon himself .
+
+
+Alexas did revolt , and went to Jewry on
+Affairs of Antony ; there did persuade
+Great Herod to incline himself to C sar ,
+And leave his master Antony : for this pains
+C sar hath hang'd him . Canidius and the rest
+That fell away have entertainment , but
+No honourable trust . I have done ill ,
+Of which I do accuse myself so sorely
+That I will joy no more .
+
+
+Enobarbus , Antony
+Hath after thee sent all thy treasure , with
+His bounty overplus : the messenger
+Came on my guard ; and at thy tent is now
+Unloading of his mules .
+
+I give it you .
+
+Mock not , Enobarbus .
+I tell you true : best you saf'd the bringer
+Out of the host ; I must attend mine office
+Or would have done 't myself . Your emperor
+Continues still a Jove .
+
+
+I am alone the villain of the earth ,
+And feel I am so most . O Antony !
+Thou mine of bounty , how wouldst thou have paid
+My better service , when my turpitude
+Thou dost so crown with gold ! This blows my heart :
+If swift thought break it not , a swifter mean
+Shall outstrike thought ; but thought will do 't , I feel .
+I fight against thee ! No : I will go seek
+Some ditch , wherein to die ; the foul'st best fits
+My latter part of life .
+
+
+Retire , we have engag'd ourselves too far .
+C sar himself has work , and our oppression
+Exceeds what we expected .
+
+O my brave emperor , this is fought indeed !
+Had we done so at first , we had droven them home
+With clouts about their heads .
+
+Thou bleed'st apace .
+
+I had a wound here that was like a T ,
+But now 'tis made an H .
+
+They do retire .
+
+We'll beat 'em into bench-holes : I have yet
+Room for six scotches more .
+
+
+They are beaten , sir ; and our advantage serves
+For a fair victory .
+
+Let us score their backs ,
+And snatch 'em up , as we take hares , behind :
+'Tis sport to maul a runner .
+
+I will reward thee
+Once for thy sprightly comfort , and ten-fold
+For thy good valour . Come thee on .
+
+I'll halt after .
+
+
+We have beat him to his camp ; run one before
+And let the queen know of our gests . To-morrow ,
+Before the sun shall see 's , we'll spill the blood
+That has to-day escap'd . I thank you all ;
+For doughty-handed are you , and have fought
+Not as you serv'd the cause , but as 't had been
+Each man's like mine ; you have shown all Hectors .
+Enter the city , clip your wives , your friends ,
+Tell them your feats ; whilst they with joyful tears
+Wash the congealment from your wounds , and kiss
+The honour'd gashes whole .
+
+Give me thy hand :
+
+
+To this great fairy I'll commend thy acts ,
+Make her thanks bless thee . O thou day o' the world !
+Chain mine arm'd neck ; leap thou , attire and all ,
+Through proof of harness to my heart , and there
+
+Ride on the pants triumphing .
+
+Lord of lords !
+O infinite virtue ! com'st thou smiling from
+The world's great snare uncaught ?
+
+My nightingale ,
+We have beat them to their beds . What , girl ! though grey
+Do something mingle with our younger brown , yet ha' we
+A brain that nourishes our nerves , and can
+Get goal for goal of youth . Behold this man ;
+Commend unto his lips thy favouring hand :
+Kiss it , my warrior : he hath fought to-day
+As if a god , in hate of mankind , had
+Destroy'd in such a shape .
+
+I'll give thee , friend ,
+An armour all of gold ; it was a king's .
+
+He has deserv'd it , were it carbuncled
+Like holy Ph bus' car . Give me thy hand :
+Through Alexandria make a jolly march ;
+Bear our hack'd targets like the men that owe them :
+Had our great palace the capacity
+To camp this host , we all would sup together
+And drink carouses to the next day's fate ,
+Which promises royal peril . Trumpeters ,
+With brazen din blast you the city's ear ,
+Make mingle with our rattling tabourines ,
+That heaven and earth may strike their sounds together ,
+Applauding our approach .
+
+
+If we be not reliev'd within this hour ,
+We must return to the court of guard : the night
+Is shiny , and they say we shall embattle
+By the second hour i' the morn .
+
+This last day was
+A shrewd one to 's .
+
+
+O ! bear me witness , night ,
+
+What man is this ?
+
+Stand close and list him .
+
+Be witness to me , O thou blessed moon ,
+When men revolted shall upon record
+Bear hateful memory , poor Enobarbus did
+Before thy face repent !
+
+Enobarbus !
+
+Peace !
+Hark further .
+
+O sovereign mistress of true melancholy ,
+The poisonous damp of night disponge upon me ,
+That life , a very rebel to my will ,
+May hang no longer on me ; throw my heart
+Against the flint and hardness of my fault ,
+Which , being dried with grief , will break to powder ,
+And finish all foul thoughts . O Antony !
+Nobler than my revolt is infamous ,
+Forgive me in thine own particular ;
+But let the world rank me in register
+A master-leaver and a fugitive .
+O Antony ! O Antony !
+
+
+Let's speak to him .
+
+Let's hear him , for the things he speaks
+May concern C sar .
+
+Let's do so . But he sleeps .
+
+Swounds rather ; for so bad a prayer as his
+Was never yet for sleep .
+
+Go we to him .
+
+Awake , sir , awake ! speak to us .
+
+Hear you , sir ?
+
+The Land of death hath raught him .
+
+Hark ! the drums
+Demurely wake the sleepers . Let us bear him
+To the court of guard ; he is of note : our hour
+Is fully out .
+
+Come on , then ;
+He may recover yet .
+
+Their preparation is to-day by sea ;
+We please them not by land .
+
+For both , my lord .
+
+I would they'd fight i' the fire or i' the air ;
+We'd fight there too . But this it is ; our foot
+Upon the hills adjoining to the city
+Shall stay with us ; order for sea is given ,
+They have put forth the haven ,
+Where their appointment we may best discover
+And look on their endeavour .
+
+But being charg'd , we will be still by land ,
+Which , as I take 't , we shall ; for his best force
+Is forth to man his galleys . To the vales ,
+And hold our best advantage !
+
+Yet they are not join'd . Where yond pine does stand
+I shall discover all ; I'll bring thee word
+Straight how 'tis like to go .
+
+
+Swallows have built
+In Cleopatra's sails their nests ; the augurers
+Say they know not , they cannot tell ; look grimly ,
+And dare not speak their knowledge . Antony
+Is valiant , and dejected ; and , by starts ,
+His fretted fortunes give him hope and fear
+Of what he has and has not .
+
+All is lost !
+This foul Egyptian hath betrayed me ;
+My fleet hath yielded to the foe , and yonder
+They cast their caps up and carouse together
+Like friends long lost . Triple-turn'd whore ! 'tis thou
+Hast sold me to this novice , and my heart
+Makes only wars on thee . Bid them all fly ;
+For when I am reveng'd upon my charm ,
+I have done all . Bid them all fly ; be gone .
+
+O sun ! thy uprise shall I see no more ;
+Fortune and Antony part here ; even here
+Do we shake hands . All come to this ? The hearts
+That spaniel'd me at heels , to whom I gave
+Their wishes , do discandy , melt their sweets
+On blossoming C sar ; and this pine is bark'd ,
+That overtopp'd them all . Betray'd I am .
+O this false soul of Egypt ! this grave charm ,
+Whose eyes beck'd forth my wars , and call'd them home ,
+Whose bosom was my crownet , my chief end ,
+Like a right gipsy , hath , at fast and loose ,
+Beguil'd me to the very heart of loss .
+What , Eros ! Eros !
+
+Ah ! thou spell . Avaunt !
+
+Why is my lord enrag'd against his love ?
+
+Vanish , or I shall give thee thy deserving ,
+And blemish C sar's triumph . Let him take thee ,
+And hoist thee up to the shouting plebeians ;
+Follow his chariot , like the greatest spot
+Of all thy sex ; most monster-like , be shown
+For poor'st diminutives , for doits ; and let
+Patient Octavia plough thy visage up
+With her prepared nails .
+
+'Tis well thou'rt gone ,
+If it be well to live ; but better 'twere
+Thou fell'st into my fury , for one death
+Might have prevented many . Eros , ho !
+The shirt of Nessus is upon me ; teach me ,
+Alcides , thou mine ancestor , thy rage ;
+Let me lodge Lichas on the horns o' the moon ;
+And with those hands , that grasp'd the heaviest club ,
+Subdue my worthiest self . The witch shall die :
+To the young Roman boy she hath sold me , and I fall
+Under this plot ; she dies for 't . Eros , ho !
+
+Help me , my women ! O ! he is more mad
+Than Telamon for his shield ; the boar of Thessaly
+Was never so emboss'd .
+
+To the monument !
+There lock yourself , and send him word you are dead .
+The soul and body rive not more in parting
+Than greatness going off .
+
+To the monument !
+Mardian , go tell him I have slain myself ;
+Say that the last I spoke was 'Antony ,'
+And word it , prithee , piteously . Hence ,
+Mardian , and bring me how he takes my death .
+To the monument !
+
+Eros , thou yet behold'st me ?
+
+Ay , noble lord .
+
+Sometimes we see a cloud that's dragonish ;
+A vapour sometime like a bear or lion ,
+A tower'd citadel , a pendant rock ,
+A forked mountain , or blue promontory
+With trees upon 't , that nod unto the world
+And mock our eyes with air : thou hast seen these signs ;
+They are black vesper's pageants .
+
+Ay , my lord .
+
+That which is now a horse , even with a thought
+The rack dislimns , and makes it indistinct ,
+As water is in water .
+
+It does , my lord .
+
+My good knave , Eros , now thy captain is
+Even such a body : here I am Antony ;
+Yet cannot hold this visible shape , my knave .
+I made these wars for Egypt ; and the queen ,
+Whose heart I thought I had , for she had mine ,
+Which whilst it was mine had annex'd unto 't
+A million more , now lost ; she , Eros , has
+Pack'd cards with C sar , and false-play'd my glory
+Unto an enemy's triumph .
+Nay , weep not , gentle Eros ; there is left us
+Ourselves to end ourselves .
+
+
+O ! thy vile lady ;
+
+She has robb'd me of my sword .
+
+No , Antony ;
+My mistress lov'd thee , and her fortunes mingled
+With thine entirely .
+
+Hence , saucy eunuch ; peace !
+She hath betray'd me and shall die the death .
+
+Death of one person can be paid but once ,
+And that she has discharg'd . What thou wouldst do
+Is done unto thy hand ; the last she spake
+Was , 'Antony ! most noble Antony !'
+Then in the midst a tearing groan did break
+The name of Antony ; it was divided
+Between her heart and lips . She render'd life ,
+Thy name so buried in her .
+
+Dead , then ?
+
+Dead .
+
+Unarm , Eros ; the long day's task is done ,
+And we must sleep .
+
+That thou depart'st hence safe ,
+Does pay thy labour richly ; go .
+
+Off , pluck off :
+The seven-fold shield of Ajax cannot keep
+The battery from my heart . O ! cleave , my sides ;
+Heart , once be stronger than thy continent ,
+Crack thy frail case ! Apace , Eros , apace .
+No more a soldier ; bruised pieces , go ;
+You have been nobly borne . From me awhile .
+
+I will o'ertake thee , Cleopatra , and
+Weep for my pardon . So it must be , for now
+All length is torture ; since the torch is out ,
+Lie down , and stray no further . Now all labour
+Mars what it does ; yea , very force entangles
+Itself with strength ; seal then , and all is done .
+Eros !I come , my queen .Eros !Stay for me :
+Where souls do couch on flowers , we'll hand in hand ,
+And with our sprightly port make the ghosts gaze ;
+Dido and her neas shall want troops ,
+And all the haunt be ours . Come , Eros ! Eros !
+
+
+What would my lord ?
+
+Since Cleopatra died ,
+I have liv'd in such dishonour , that the gods
+Detest my baseness . I , that with my sword
+Quarter'd the world , and o'er green Neptune's back
+With ships made cities , condemn myself to lack
+The courage of a woman ; less noble mind
+Than she , which by her death our C sar tells
+'I am conqueror of myself .' Thou art sworn , Eros ,
+That , when the exigent should come ,which now
+Is come indeed ,when I should see behind me
+The inevitable prosecution of
+Disgrace and horror , that , on my command ,
+Thou then wouldst kill me : do 't ; the time is come .
+Thou strik'st not me , 'tis C sar thou defeat'st .
+Put colour in thy cheek .
+
+The gods withhold me !
+Shall I do that which all the Parthian darts ,
+Though enemy , lost aim and could not ?
+
+Eros ,
+Wouldst thou be window'd in great Rome , and see
+Thy master thus with pleach'd arms , bending down
+His corrigible neck , his face subdu'd
+To penetrative shame , whilst the wheel'd seat
+Of fortunate C sar , drawn before him , branded
+His baseness that ensu'd ?
+
+I would not see't .
+
+Come , then ; for with a wound I must be cur'd .
+Draw that thy honest sword , which thou hast worn
+Most useful for thy country .
+
+O , sir ! pardon me .
+
+When I did make thee free , swor'st thou not then
+To do this when I bade thee ? Do it at once ,
+Or thy precedent services are all
+But accidents unpurpos'd . Draw , and come .
+
+Turn from me then that noble countenance ,
+Wherein the worship of the whole world lies .
+
+Lo thee !
+
+
+My sword is drawn .
+
+Then let it do at once
+The thing why thou hast drawn it .
+
+My dear master ,
+My captain , and my emperor , let me say ,
+Before I strike this bloody stroke , farewell .
+
+'Tis said , man ; and farewell .
+
+Farewell , great chief . Shall I strike now ?
+
+Now , Eros .
+
+Why , there then ; thus do I escape the sorrow
+
+Of Antony's death .
+
+Thrice-nobler than myself !
+Thou teachest me , O valiant Eros , what
+I should , and thou couldst not . My queen and Eros
+Have by their brave instruction got upon me
+A nobleness in record ; but I will be
+A bridegroom in my death , and run into 't
+As to a lover's bed . Come , then ; and , Eros ,
+Thy master dies thy scholar : to do thus
+
+I learn'd of thee . How ! not dead ? not dead ?
+The guard , ho ! O ! dispatch me .
+
+
+What's the noise ?
+
+I have done my work ill , friends : O ! make an end
+Of what I have begun .
+
+The star is fallen .
+
+And time is at his period .
+
+Alas , and woe !
+
+Let him that loves me strike me dead .
+
+Not I .
+
+Nor I .
+
+Nor any one .
+
+
+Thy death and fortunes bid thy followers fly .
+This sword but shown to C sar , with this tidings ,
+Shall enter me with him .
+
+
+Where's Antony ?
+
+There , Diomed , there .
+
+Lives he ?
+Wilt thou not answer , man ?
+
+
+Art thou there , Diomed ? Draw thy sword , and give me
+Sufficing strokes for death .
+
+Most absolute lord ,
+My mistress Cleopatra sent me to thee .
+
+When did she send thee ?
+
+Now , my lord .
+
+Where is she ?
+
+Lock'd in her monument . She had a prophesying fear
+Of what hath come to pass ; for when she saw
+Which never shall be found you did suspect
+She had dispos'd with C sar , and that your rage
+Would not be purg'd , she sent you word she was dead ;
+But , fearing since how it might work , hath sent
+Me to proclaim the truth ; and I am come ,
+I dread , too late .
+
+Too late , good Diomed . Call my guard , I prithee .
+
+What , ho ! the emperor's guard ! The guard , what , ho !
+Come , your lord calls !
+
+
+Bear me , good friends , where Cleopatra bides ;
+'Tis the last service that I shall command you .
+
+Woe , woe are we , sir , you may not live to wear
+All your true followers out .
+
+Most heavy day !
+
+Nay , good my fellows , do not please sharp fate
+To grace it with your sorrows ; bid that welcome
+Which comes to punish us , and we punish it
+Seeming to bear it lightly . Take me up ;
+I have led you oft ; carry me now , good friends ,
+And have my thanks for all .
+
+O Charmian ! I will never go from hence .
+
+Be comforted , dear madam .
+
+No , I will not .
+All strange and terrible events are welcome ,
+But comforts we despise ; our size of sorrow ,
+Proportion'd to our cause , must be as great
+As that which makes it .
+
+How now ! is he dead ?
+
+His death's upon him , but not dead .
+Look out o' the other side your monument ;
+His guard have brought him thither .
+
+
+O sun !
+Burn the great sphere thou mov'st in ; darkling stand
+The varying star o' the world . O Antony ,
+Antony , Antony ! Help , Charmian , help , Iras , help ;
+Help , friends below ! let's draw him hither .
+
+Peace !
+Not C sar's valour hath o'erthrown Antony ,
+But Antony's hath triumph'd on itself .
+
+So it should be , that none but Antony
+Should conquer Antony ; but woe 'tis so !
+
+I am dying , Egypt , dying ; only
+I here importune death awhile , until
+Of many thousand kisses the poor last
+I lay upon thy lips .
+
+I dare not , dear ,
+Dear my lord , pardon ,I dare not ,
+Lest I be taken : not the imperious show
+Of the full-fortun'd C sar ever shall
+Be brooch'd with me ; if knife , drugs , serpents , have
+Edge , sting , or operation , I am safe :
+Your wife Octavia , with her modest eyes
+And still conclusion , shall acquire no honour
+Demuring upon me . But come , come , Antony ,
+Help me , my women ,we must draw thee up .
+Assist , good friends .
+
+O ! quick , or I am gone .
+
+Here's sport indeed ! How heavy weighs my lord !
+Our strength is all gone into heaviness ,
+That makes the weight . Had I great Juno's power ,
+The strong-wing'd Mercury should fetch thee up ,
+And set thee by Jove's side . Yet come a little ,
+Wishers were ever fools . O ! come , come , come ;
+
+And welcome , welcome ! die where thou hastliv'd ;
+Quicken with kissing ; had my lips that power ,
+Thus would I wear them out .
+
+A heavy sight !
+
+I am dying , Egypt , dying :
+Give me some wine , and let me speak a little .
+
+No , let me speak ; and let me rail so high ,
+That the false housewife Fortune break her wheel ,
+Provok'd by my offence .
+
+One word , sweet queen .
+Of C sar seek your honour with your safety . O !
+
+They do not go together .
+
+Gentle , hear me :
+None about C sar trust , but Proculeius .
+
+My resolution and my hands I'll trust ;
+None about C sar .
+
+The miserable change now at my end
+Lament nor sorrow at ; but please your thoughts
+In feeding them with those my former fortunes
+Wherein I liv'd , the greatest prince o' the world ,
+The noblest ; and do now not basely die ,
+Not cowardly put off my helmet to
+My countryman ; a Roman by a Roman
+Valiantly vanquish'd . Now my spirit is going ;
+I can no more .
+
+Noblest of men , woo 't die ?
+Hast thou no care of me ? shall I abide
+In this dull world , which in thy absence is
+No better than a sty ? O ! see my women ,
+
+The crown o' the earth doth melt . My lord !
+O ! wither'd is the garland of the war ,
+The soldier's pole is fall'n ; young boys and girls
+Are level now with men ; the odds is gone ,
+And there is nothing left remarkable
+Beneath the visiting moon .
+
+
+O , quietness , lady !
+
+She is dead too , our sovereign .
+
+Lady !
+
+Madam !
+
+O madam , madam , madam !
+
+Royal Egypt !
+Empress !
+
+Peace , peace , Iras !
+
+No more , but e'en a woman , and commanded
+By such poor passion as the maid that milks
+And does the meanest chares . It were for me
+To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods ;
+To tell them that this world did equal theirs
+Till they had stol'n our jewel . All's but naught ;
+Patience is sottish , and impatience does
+Become a dog that's mad ; then is it sin
+To rush into the secret house of death ,
+Ere death dare come to us ? How do you , women ?
+What , what ! good cheer ! Why , how now , Charmian !
+My noble girls ! Ah , women , women , look !
+Our lamp is spent , it's out . Good sirs , take heart ;
+We'll bury him ; and then , what's brave , what's noble ,
+Let's do it after the high Roman fashion ,
+And make death proud to take us . Come , away ;
+This case of that huge spirit now is cold ;
+Ah ! women , women . Come ; we have no friend
+But resolution , and the briefest end .
+
+Go to him , Dolabella , bid him yield ;
+Being so frustrate , tell him he mocks
+The pauses that he makes .
+
+C sar , I shall .
+
+Wherefore is that ? and what art thou that dar'st
+Appear thus to us ?
+
+I am call'd Dercetas ;
+Mark Antony I serv'd , who best was worthy
+Best to be serv'd ; whilst he stood up and spoke
+He was my master , and I wore my life
+To spend upon his haters . If thou please
+To take me to thee , as I was to him
+I'll be to C sar ; if thou pleasest not ,
+I yield thee up my life .
+
+What is 't thou sayst ?
+
+I say , O C sar , Antony is dead .
+
+The breaking of so great a thing should make
+A greater crack ; the round world
+Should have shook lions into civil streets ,
+And citizens to their dens . The death of Antony
+Is not a single doom ; in the name lay
+A moiety of the world .
+
+He is dead , C sar ;
+Not by a public minister of justice ,
+Nor by a hired knife ; but that self hand ,
+Which writ his honour in the acts it did ,
+Hath , with the courage which the heart did lend it ,
+Splitted the heart . This is his sword ;
+I robb'd his wound of it ; behold it stain'd
+With his most noble blood .
+
+Look you sad , friends ?
+The gods rebuke me , but it is tidings
+To wash the eyes of kings .
+
+And strange it is ,
+That nature must compel us to lament
+Our most persisted deeds .
+
+His taints and honours
+Wag'd equal with him .
+
+A rarer spirit never
+Did steer humanity ; but you , gods , will give us
+Some faults to make us men . C sar is touch'd .
+
+When such a spacious mirror's set before him ,
+He needs must see himself .
+
+O Antony !
+I have follow'd thee to this ; but we do lance
+Diseases in our bodies : I must perforce
+Have shown to thee such a declining day ,
+Or look on thine ; we could not stall together
+In the whole world . But yet let me lament ,
+With tears as sovereign as the blood of hearts ,
+That thou , my brother , my competitor
+In top of all design , my mate in empire ,
+Friend and companion in the front of war ,
+The arm of mine own body , and the heart
+Where mine his thoughts did kindle , that our stars ,
+Unreconciliable , should divide
+Our equalness to this . Hear me , good friends ,
+
+
+But I will tell you at some meeter season :
+The business of this man looks out of him ;
+
+We'll hear him what he says . Whence are you ?
+
+A poor Egyptian yet . The queen my mistress ,
+Confin'd in all she has , her monument ,
+Of thy intents desires instruction ,
+That she preparedly may frame herself
+To the way she's forc'd to .
+
+Bid her have good heart ;
+She soon shall know of us , by some of ours ,
+How honourable and how kindly we
+Determine for her ; for C sar cannot live
+To be ungentle .
+
+So the gods preserve thee !
+
+
+Come hither , Proculeius . Go and say ,
+We purpose her no shame ; give her what comforts
+The quality of her passion shall require ,
+Lest , in her greatness , by some mortal stroke
+She do defeat us ; for her life in Rome
+Would be eternal in our triumph . Go ,
+And with your speediest bring us what she says ,
+And how you find of her .
+
+C sar , I shall .
+
+
+Gallus , go you along .
+
+To second Proculeius ?
+
+Dolabella !
+
+Dolabella !
+
+Let him alone , for I remember now
+How he's employ'd , he shall in time be ready .
+Go with me to my tent ; where you shall see
+How hardly I was drawn into this war ;
+How calm and gentle I proceeded still
+In all my writings . Go with me , and see
+What I can show in this .
+
+
+My desolation does begin to make
+A better life . 'Tis paltry to be C sar ;
+Not being Fortune , he's but Fortune's knave ,
+A minister of her will ; and it is great
+To do that thing that ends all other deeds ,
+Which shackles accidents , and bolts up change ,
+Which sleeps , and never palates more the dug ,
+The beggar's nurse and C sar's .
+
+
+C sar sends greeting to the Queen of Egypt ;
+And bids thee study on what fair demands
+Thou mean'st to have him grant thee .
+
+What's thy name ?
+
+My name is Proculeius .
+
+Antony
+Did tell me of you , bade me trust you ; but
+I do not greatly care to be deceiv'd ,
+That have no use for trusting . If your master
+Would have a queen his beggar , you must tell him ,
+That majesty , to keep decorum , must
+No less beg than a kingdom ; if he please
+To give me conquer'd Egypt for my son ,
+He gives me so much of mine own as I
+Will kneel to him with thanks .
+
+Be of good cheer ;
+You're fall'n into a princely hand , fear nothing .
+Make your full reference freely to my lord ,
+Who is so full of grace , that it flows over
+On all that need ; let me report to him
+Your sweet dependancy , and you shall find
+A conqueror that will pray in aid for kindness
+Where he for grace is kneel'd to .
+
+Pray you , tell him
+I am his fortune's vassal , and I send him
+The greatness he has got . I hourly learn
+A doctrine of obedience , and would gladly
+Look him i' the face .
+
+This I'll report , dear lady :
+Have comfort , for I know your plight is pitied
+Of him that caus'd it .
+
+You see how easily she may be surpris'd .
+
+
+Guard her till C sar come .
+
+Royal queen !
+
+O Cleopatra ! thou art taken , queen .
+
+Quick , quick , good hands .
+
+
+Hold , worthy lady , hold !
+
+Do not yourself such wrong , who are in this
+Reliev'd , but not betray'd .
+
+What , of death too ,
+That rids our dogs of languish ?
+
+Cleopatra ,
+Do not abuse my master's bounty by
+The undoing of yourself ; let the world see
+His nobleness well acted , which your death
+Will never let come forth .
+
+Where art thou , death ?
+Come hither , come ! come , come , and take a queen
+Worth many babes and beggars !
+
+O ! temperance , lady .
+
+Sir , I will eat no meat , I'll not drink , sir ;
+If idle talk will once be necessary ,
+I'll not sleep neither . This mortal house I'll ruin ,
+Do C sar what he can . Know , sir , that I
+Will not wait pinion'd at your master's court ,
+Nor once be chastis'd with the sober eye
+Of dull Octavia . Shall they hoist me up
+And show me to the shouting varletry
+Of censuring Rome ? Rather a ditch in Egypt
+Be gentle grave unto me ! rather on Nilus' mud
+Lay me stark nak'd , and let the water-flies
+Blow me into abhorring ! rather make
+My country's high pyramides my gibbet ,
+And hang me up in chains !
+
+You do extend
+These thoughts of horror further than you shall
+Find cause in C sar .
+
+
+Proculeius ,
+What thou hast done thy master C sar knows ,
+And he hath sent for thee ; as for the queen ,
+I'll take her to my guard .
+
+So , Dolabella ,
+It shall content me best ; be gentle to her .
+
+
+To C sar I will speak what you shall please ,
+If you'll employ me to him .
+
+Say , I would die .
+
+
+Most noble empress , you have heard of me ?
+
+I cannot tell .
+
+Assuredly you know me .
+
+No matter , sir , what I have heard or known .
+You laugh when boys or women tell their dreams ;
+Is 't not your trick ?
+
+I understand not , madam .
+
+I dream'd there was an Emperor Antony :
+O ! such another sleep , that I might see
+But such another man .
+
+If it might please ye ,
+
+His face was as the heavens , and therein stuck
+A sun and moon , which kept their course , and lighted
+The little O , the earth .
+
+Most sovereign creature ,
+
+His legs besfrid the ocean ; his rear'd arm
+Crested the world ; his voice was propertied
+As all the tuned spheres , and that to friends ;
+But when he meant to quail and shake the orb ,
+He was as rattling thunder . For his bounty ,
+There was no winter in 't , an autumn 'twas
+That grew the more by reaping ; his delights
+Were dolphin-like , they show'd his back above
+The element they liv'd in ; in his livery
+Walk'd crowns and crownets , realms and islands were
+As plates dropp'd from his pocket .
+
+Cleopatra ,
+
+Think you there was , or might be , such a man
+As this I dream'd of ?
+
+Gentle madam , no .
+
+You lie , up to the hearing of the gods .
+But , if there be , or ever were , one such ,
+It's past the size of dreaming ; nature wants stuff
+To vie strange forms with fancy ; yet to imagine
+An Antony were nature's piece 'gainst fancy ,
+Condemning shadows quite .
+
+Hear me , good madam .
+Your loss is as yourself , great ; and you bear it
+As answering to the weight : would I might never
+O'ertake pursu'd success , but I do feel ,
+By the rebound of yours , a grief that smites
+My very heart at root .
+
+I thank you , sir .
+Know you what C sar means to do with me ?
+
+I am loath to tell you what I would you knew .
+
+Nay , pray you , sir ,
+
+Though he be honourable ,
+
+He'll lead me then in triumph ?
+
+Madam , he will ; I know 't .
+
+Which is the Queen of Egypt ?
+
+It is the emperor , madam .
+
+
+Arise , you shall not kneel .
+I pray you , rise ; rise , Egypt .
+
+Sir , the gods
+Will have it thus ; my master and my lord
+I must obey .
+
+Take to you no hard thoughts ;
+The record of what injuries you did us ,
+Though written in our flesh , we shall remember
+As things but done by chance .
+
+Sole sir o' the world ,
+I cannot project mine own cause so well
+To make it clear ; but do confess I have
+Been laden with like frailties which before
+Have often sham'd our sex .
+
+Cleopatra , know ,
+We will extenuate rather than enforce :
+If you apply yourself to our intents ,
+Which towards you are most gentle ,you shall find
+A benefit in this change ; but if you seek
+To lay on me a cruelty , by taking
+Antony's course , you shall bereave yourself
+Of my good purposes , and put your children
+To that destruction which I'll guard them from ,
+If thereon you rely . I'll take my leave .
+
+And may through all the world : 'tis yours ; and we ,
+Your scutcheons , and your signs of conquest , shall
+Hang in what place you please . Here , my good lord .
+
+You shall advise me in all for Cleopatra .
+
+This is the brief of money , plate , and jewels ,
+I am possess'd of : 'tis exactly valued ;
+Not petty things admitted . Where's Seleucus ?
+
+Here , madam .
+
+This is my treasurer ; let him speak , my lord ,
+Upon his peril , that I have reserv'd
+To myself nothing . Speak the truth , Seleucus .
+
+Madam ,
+I had rather seal my lips , than , to my peril ,
+Speak that which is not .
+
+What have I kept back ?
+
+Enough to purchase what you have made known .
+
+Nay , blush not , Cleopatra ; I approve
+Your wisdom in the deed .
+
+See ! C sar ! O , behold ,
+How pomp is follow'd ; mine will now be yours ;
+And , should we shift estates , yours would be mine .
+The ingratitude of this Seleucus does
+Even make me wild . O slave ! of no more trust
+Than love that's hir'd . What ! goest thou back ? thou shalt
+Go back , I warrant thee ; but I'll catch thine eyes ,
+Though they had wings : slave , soulless villain , dog !
+O rarely base !
+
+Good queen , let us entreat you .
+
+O C sar ! what a wounding shame is this ,
+That thou , vouchsafing here to visit me ,
+Doing the honour of thy lordliness
+To one so meek , that mine own servant should
+Parcel the sum of my disgraces by
+Addition of his envy . Say , good C sar ,
+That I some lady trifles have reserv'd ,
+Immoment toys , things of such dignity
+As we greet modern friends withal ; and say ,
+Some nobler token I have kept apart
+For Livia and Octavia , to induce
+Their mediation ; must I be unfolded
+With one that I have bred ? The gods ! it smites me
+Beneath the fall I have .
+
+Prithee , go hence ;
+Or I shall show the cinders of my spirits
+Through the ashes of my chance . Wert thou a man ,
+Thou wouldst have mercy on me .
+
+Forbear , Seleucus .
+
+
+Be it known that we , the greatest , are misthought
+For things that others do ; and , when we fall ,
+We answer others' merits in our name ,
+Are therefore to be pitied .
+
+Cleopatra ,
+Not what you have reserv'd , nor what acknowledg'd ,
+Put we i' the roll of conquest : still be 't yours ,
+Bestow it at your pleasure ; and believe ,
+C sar's no merchant , to make prize with you
+Of things that merchants sold . Therefore be cheer'd ;
+Make not your thoughts your prisons : no , dear queen ;
+For we intend so to dispose you as
+Yourself shall give us counsel . Feed , and sleep :
+Our care and pity is so much upon you ,
+That we remain your friend ; and so , adieu .
+
+My master , and my lord !
+
+Not so . Adieu .
+
+
+He words me , girls , he words me , that I should not
+Be noble to myself : but , hark thee , Charmian .
+
+
+Finish , good lady ; the bright day is done ,
+And we are for the dark .
+
+Hie thee again :
+I have spoke already , and it is provided ;
+Go , put it to the haste .
+
+Madam , I will .
+
+
+Where is the queen ?
+
+Behold , sir .
+
+
+Dolabella !
+
+Madam , as thereto sworn by your command ,
+Which my love makes religion to obey ,
+I tell you this : C sar through Syria
+Intends his journey ; and within three days
+You with your children will be send before .
+Make your best use of this ; I have perform'd
+Your pleasure and my promise .
+
+Dolabella ,
+I shall remain your debtor .
+
+I your servant .
+Adieu , good queen ; I must attend on C sar .
+
+Farewell , and thanks .
+
+Now , Iras , what think'st thou ?
+Thou , an Egyptian puppet , shall be shown
+In Rome , as well as I ; mechanic slaves
+With greasy aprons , rules and hammers , shall
+Uplift us to the view ; in their thick breaths ,
+Rank of gross diet , shall we be enclouded ,
+And forc'd to drink their vapour .
+
+The gods forbid !
+
+Nay , 'tis most certain , Iras . Saucy lictors
+Will catch at us , like strumpets , and scald rimers
+Ballad us out o' tune ; the quick comedians
+Extemporally will stage us , and present
+Our Alexandrian revels . Antony
+Shall be brought drunken forth , and I shall see
+Some squeaking Cleopatra boy my greatness
+I' the posture of a whore .
+
+O , the good gods !
+
+Nay , that's certain .
+
+I'll never see it ; for , I am sure my nails
+Are stronger than mine eyes .
+
+Why , that's the way
+To fool their preparation , and to conquer
+Their most absurd intents .
+
+
+Now , Charmian ,
+Show me , my women , like a queen ; go fetch
+My best attires ; I am again for Cydnus ,
+To meet Mark Antony . Sirrah Iras , go .
+Now , noble Charmian , we'll dispatch indeed ;
+And , when thou hast done this chare , I'll give thee leave
+To play till doomsday . Bring our crown and all .
+
+Wherefore's this noise ?
+
+Here is a rural fellow
+That will not be denied your highness' presence :
+He brings you figs .
+
+Let him come in .
+
+What poor an instrument
+May do a noble deed ! he brings me liberty .
+My resolution's plac'd , and I have nothing
+Of woman in me ; now from head to foot
+I am marble-constant , now the fleeting moon
+No planet is of mine .
+
+
+This is the man .
+
+Avoid , and leave him .
+
+Hast thou the pretty worm of Nilus there ,
+That kills and pains not ?
+
+Truly , I have him ; but I would not be the party that should desire you to touch him , for his biting is immortal ; those that do die of it do seldom or never recover .
+
+Remember'st thou any that have died on 't ?
+
+Very many , men and women too . I heard of one of them no longer than yesterday ; a very honest woman , but something given to lie , as a woman should not do but in the way of honesty , how she died of the biting of it , what pain she felt . Truly , she makes a very good report o' the worm ; but he that will believe all that they say shall never be saved by half that they do . But this is most fallible , the worm's an odd worm .
+
+Get thee hence ; farewell .
+
+I wish you all joy of the worm .
+
+
+Farewell .
+
+You must think this , look you , that the worm will do his kind .
+
+Ay , ay ; farewell .
+
+Look you , the worm is not to be trusted but in the keeping of wise people ; for indeed there is no goodness in the worm .
+
+Take thou no care ; it shall be heeded .
+
+Very good . Give it nothing , I pray you , for it is not worth the feeding .
+
+Will it eat me ?
+
+You must not think I am so simple but I know the devil himself will not eat a woman ; I know that a woman is a dish for the gods , if the devil dress her not . But , truly , these same whoreson devils do the gods great harm in their women , for in every ten that they make , the devils mar five .
+
+Well , get thee gone ; farewell .
+
+Yes , forsooth ; I wish you joy of the worm .
+
+Give me my robe , put on my crown ; I have
+Immortal longings in me ; now no more
+The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip .
+Yare , yare , good Iras ; quick . Methinks I hear
+Antony call ; I see him rouse himself
+To praise my noble act ; I hear him mock
+The luck of C sar , which the gods give men
+To excuse their after wrath : husband , I come :
+Now to that name my courage prove my title !
+I am fire , and air ; my other elements
+I give to baser life . So ; have you done ?
+Come then , and take the last warmth of my lips .
+Farewell , kind Charmian ; Iras , long farewell .
+
+Have I the aspic in my lips ? Dost fall ?
+If thou and nature can so gently part ,
+The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch ,
+Which hurts , and is desir'd . Dost thou lie still ?
+If thus thou vanishest , thou tell'st the world
+It is not worth leave-taking .
+
+Dissolve , thick cloud , and rain ; that I may say ,
+The gods themselves do weep .
+
+This proves me base :
+If she first meet the curled Antony ,
+He'll make demand of her , and spend that kiss
+Which is my heaven to have . Come , thou mortal wretch ,
+
+With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate
+Of life at once untie ; poor venomous fool ,
+Be angry , and dispatch . O ! couldst thou speak ,
+That I might hear thee call great C sar ass
+Unpolicied .
+
+O eastern star !
+
+Peace , peace !
+Dost thou not see my baby at my breast ,
+That sucks the nurse asleep ?
+
+O , break ! O , break !
+
+As sweet as balm , as soft as air , as gentle ,
+O Antony !Nay , I will take thee too .
+
+What should I stay
+
+
+In this vile world ? So , fare thee well .
+Now boast thee , death , in thy possession lies
+A lass unparallel'd . Downy windows , close ;
+And golden Ph bus never be beheld
+Of eyes again so royal ! Your crown's awry ;
+I'll mend it , and then play .
+
+
+Where is the queen ?
+
+Speak softly , wake her not .
+
+C sar hath sent
+
+Too slow a messenger .
+
+O ! come apace , dispatch ; I partly feel thee .
+
+Approach , ho ! All's not well ; C sar's beguil'd .
+
+There's Dolabella sent from C sar ; call him .
+
+What work is here ! Charmian , is this well done ?
+
+It is well done , and fitting for a princess
+Descended of so many royal kings .
+Ah ! soldier .
+
+How goes it here ?
+
+All dead .
+
+C sar , thy thoughts
+Touch their effects in this ; thyself art coming
+To see perform'd the dreaded act which thou
+So sought'st to hinder .
+
+O ! sir , you are too sure an augurer ;
+That you did fear is done .
+
+Bravest at the last ,
+She levell'd at our purposes , and , being royal ,
+Took her own way . The manner of their deaths ?
+I do not see them bleed .
+
+Who was last with them ?
+
+A simple countryman that brought her figs :
+This was his basket .
+
+Poison'd then .
+
+O C sar !
+This Charmian liv'd but now ; she stood , and spake :
+I found her trimming up the diadem
+On her dead mistress ; tremblingly she stood ,
+And on the sudden dropp'd .
+
+O noble weakness !
+If they had swallow'd poison 'twould appear
+By external swelling ; but she looks like sleep ,
+As she would catch another Antony
+In her strong toil of grace .
+
+Here , on her breast ,
+There is a vent of blood , and something blown ;
+The like is on her arm .
+
+This is an aspic's trail ; and these fig-leaves
+Have slime upon them , such as the aspic leaves
+Upon the caves of Nile .
+
+Most probable
+That so she died ; for her physician tells me
+She hath pursu'd conclusions infinite
+Of easy ways to die . Take up her bed ;
+And bear her women from the monument .
+She shall be buried by her Antony :
+No grave upon the earth shall clip in it
+A pair so famous . High events as these
+Strike those that make them ; and their story is
+No less in pity than his glory which
+Brought them to be lamented . Our army shall ,
+In solemn show , attend this funeral ,
+And then to Rome . Come , Dolabella , see
+High order in this great solemnity .
+
+CORIOLANUS
+
+Before we proceed any further , hear me speak .
+
+Speak , speak .
+
+You are all resolved rather to die than to famish ?
+
+Resolved , resolved .
+
+First , you know Caius Marcius is chief enemy to the people .
+
+We know't , we know't .
+
+Let us kill him , and we'll have corn at our own price . Is't a verdict ?
+
+No more talking on't ; let it be done .
+Away , away !
+
+One word , good citizens .
+
+We are accounted poor citizens , the patricians good . What authority surfeits on would relieve us . If they would yield us but the superfluity , while it were wholesome , we might guess they relieved us humanely ; but they think we are too dear : the leanness that afflicts us , the object of our misery , is as an inventory to particularise their abundance ; our sufferance is a gain to them . Let us revenge this with our pikes , ere we become rakes : for the gods know I speak this in hunger for bread , not in thirst for revenge .
+
+Would you proceed especially against Caius Marcius ?
+
+Against him first : he's a very dog to the commonalty .
+
+Consider you what services he has done for his country ?
+
+Very well ; and could be content to give him good report for't , but that he pays himself with being proud .
+
+Nay , but speak not maliciously .
+
+I say unto you , what he hath done famously , he did it to that end : though soft-conscienced men can be content to say it was for his country , he did it to please his mother , and to be partly proud ; which he is , even to the altitude of his virtue .
+
+What he cannot help in his nature , you account a vice in him . You must in no way say he is covetous .
+
+If I must not , I need not be barren of accusations : he hath faults , with surplus , to tire in repetition .
+
+What shouts are these ? The other side o' the city is risen : why stay we prating here ? to the Capitol !
+
+Come , come .
+
+Soft ! who comes here ?
+
+
+Worthy Menenius Agrippa ; one that hath always loved the people .
+
+He's one honest enough : would all the rest were so !
+
+What work's , my countrymen , in hand ? Where go you
+With bats and clubs ? The matter ? Speak , I pray you .
+
+Our business is not unknown to the senate ; they have had inkling this fortnight what we intend to do , which now we'll show 'em in deeds . They say poor suitors have strong breaths : they shall know we have strong arms too .
+
+Why , masters , my good friends , mine honest neighbours ,
+Will you undo yourselves ?
+
+We cannot , sir ; we are undone already .
+
+I tell you , friends , most charitable care
+Have the patricians of you . For your wants ,
+Your suffering in this dearth , you may as well
+Strike at the heaven with your staves as lift them
+Against the Roman state , whose course will on
+The way it takes , cracking ten thousand curbs
+Of more strong link asunder than can ever
+Appear in your impediment . For the dearth ,
+The gods , not the patricians , make it , and
+Your knees to them , not arms , must help . Alack !
+You are transported by calamity
+Thither where more attends you ; and you slander
+The helms o' the state , who care for you like fathers ,
+When you curse them as enemies .
+
+Care for us ! True , indeed ! They ne'er cared for us yet : suffer us to famish , and their storehouses crammed with grain ; make edicts for usury , to support usurers ; repeal daily any wholesome act established against the rich , and provide more piercing statutes daily to chain up and restrain the poor . If the wars eat us not up , they will ; and there's all the love they bear us .
+
+Either you must
+Confess yourselves wondrous malicious ,
+Or be accus'd of folly . I shall tell you
+A pretty tale : it may be you have heard it ;
+But , since it serves my purpose , I will venture
+To scale't a little more .
+
+Well , I'll hear it , sir ; yet you must not think to fob off our disgrace with a tale ; but , an't please you , deliver .
+
+There was a time when all the body's members
+Rebell'd against the belly ; thus accus'd it :
+That only like a gulf it did remain
+I' the midst o' the body , idle and unactive ,
+Still cupboarding the viand , never bearing
+Like labour with the rest , where the other instruments
+Did see and hear , devise , instruct , walk , feel ,
+And , mutually participate , did minister
+Unto the appetite and affection common
+Of the whole body . The belly answer'd ,
+
+Well , sir , what answer made the belly ?
+
+Sir , I shall tell you .With a kind of smile ,
+Which ne'er came from the lungs , but even thus
+For , look you , I may make the belly smile
+As well as speak it tauntingly replied
+To the discontented members , the mutinous parts
+That envied his receipt ; even so most fitly
+As you malign our senators for that
+They are not such as you .
+
+Your belly's answer ? What !
+The kingly crowned head , the vigilant eye ,
+The counsellor heart , the arm our soldier ,
+Our steed the leg , the tongue our trumpeter ,
+With other muniments and petty helps
+In this our fabric , if that they
+
+What then ?
+'Fore me , this fellow speaks ! what then ? what then ?
+
+Should by the cormorant belly be restrain'd ,
+Who is the sink o' the body ,
+
+Well , what then ?
+
+The former agents , if they did complain ,
+What could the belly answer ?
+
+I will tell you ;
+If you'll bestow a small , of what you have little ,
+Patience a while , you'll hear the belly's answer .
+
+You're long about it .
+
+Note me this , good friend ;
+Your most grave belly was deliberate ,
+Not rash like his accusers , and thus answer'd :
+'True is it , my incorporate friends ,' quoth he ,
+'That I receive the general food at first ,
+Which you do live upon ; and fit it is ;
+Because I am the store-house and the shop
+Of the whole body : but , if you do remember ,
+I send it through the rivers of your blood ,
+Even to the court , the heart , to the seat o' the brain ;
+And , through the cranks and offices of man ,
+The strongest nerves and small inferior veins
+From me receive that natural competency
+Whereby they live . And though that all at once ,
+You , my good friends ,' this says the belly , mark me ,
+
+Ay , sir ; well , well .
+
+'Though all at once cannot
+See what I do deliver out to each ,
+Yet I can make my audit up , that all
+From me do back receive the flour of all ,
+And leave me but the bran .' What say you to't ?
+
+It was an answer : how apply you this ?
+
+The senators of Rome are this good belly ,
+And you the mutinous members ; for , examine
+Their counsels and their cares , digest things rightly
+Touching the weal o' the common , you shall find
+No public benefit which you receive
+But it proceeds or comes from them to you ,
+And no way from yourselves . What do you think ,
+You , the great toe of this assembly ?
+
+I the great toe ? Why the great toe ?
+
+For that , being one o' the lowest , basest , poorest ,
+Of this most wise rebellion , thou go'st foremost :
+Thou rascal , that art worst in blood to run ,
+Lead'st first to win some vantage .
+But make you ready your stiff bats and clubs :
+Rome and her rats are at the point of battle ;
+The one side must have bale .
+
+Hail , noble Marcius !
+
+Thanks .What's the matter , you dissentious rogues ,
+That , rubbing the poor itch of your opinion ,
+Make yourselves scabs ?
+
+We have ever your good word .
+
+He that will give good words to thee will flatter
+Beneath abhorring . What would you have , you curs ,
+That like nor peace nor war ? the one affrights you ,
+The other makes you proud . He that trusts to you ,
+Where he should find you lions , finds you hares ;
+Where foxes , geese : you are no surer , no ,
+Than is the coal of fire upon the ice ,
+Or hailstone in the sun . Your virtue is ,
+To make him worthy whose offence subdues him ,
+And curse that justice did it . Who deserves greatness
+Deserves your hate ; and your affections are
+A sick man's appetite , who desires most that
+Which would increase his evil . He that depends
+Upon your favours swims with fins of lead
+And hews down oaks with rushes . Hang ye ! Trust ye ?
+With every minute you do change a mind ,
+And call him noble that was now your hate ,
+Him vile that was your garland . What's the matter ,
+That in these several places of the city
+You cry against the noble senate , who ,
+Under the gods , keep you in awe , which else
+Would feed on one another ? What's their seeking ?
+
+For corn at their own rates ; whereof they say
+The city is well stor'd .
+
+Hang 'em ! They say !
+They'll sit by the fire , and presume to know
+What's done i' the Capitol ; who's like to rise ,
+Who thrives , and who declines ; side factions , and give out
+Conjectural marriages ; making parties strong ,
+And feebling such as stand not in their liking ,
+Below their cobbled shoes . They say there's grain enough !
+Would the nobility lay aside their ruth ,
+And let me use my sword , I'd make a quarry
+With thousands of these quarter'd slaves , as high
+As I could pick my lance .
+
+Nay , these are almost thoroughly persuaded ;
+For though abundantly they lack discretion ,
+Yet are they passing cowardly . But , I beseech you ,
+What says the other troop ?
+
+They are dissolv'd : hang 'em !
+They said they were an-hungry ; sigh'd forth proverbs :
+That hunger broke stone walls ; that dogs must eat ;
+That meat was made for mouths ; that the gods sent not
+Corn for the rich men only . With these shreds
+They vented their complainings ; which being answer'd ,
+And a petition granted them , a strange one ,
+To break the heart of generosity ,
+And make bold power look pale ,they threw their caps
+As they would hang them on the horns o' the moon ,
+Shouting their emulation .
+
+What is granted them ?
+
+Five tribunes to defend their vulgar wisdoms ,
+Of their own choice : one's Junius Brutus ,
+Sicinius Velutus , and I know not 'Sdeath !
+The rabble should have first unroof'd the city ,
+Ere so prevail'd with me ; it will in time
+Win upon power , and throw forth greater themes
+For insurrection's arguing .
+
+This is strange .
+
+Go ; get you home , you fragments !
+
+
+Where's Caius Marcius ?
+
+Here : what's the matter ?
+
+The news is , sir , the Volsces are in arms .
+
+I am glad on't ; then we shall ha' means to vent
+Our musty superfluity . See , our best elders .
+
+
+Marcius , 'tis true that you have lately told us ;
+The Volsces are in arms .
+
+They have a leader ,
+Tullus Aufidius , that will put you to't .
+I sin in envying his nobility ,
+And were I anything but what I am ,
+I would wish me only he .
+
+You have fought together .
+
+Were half to half the world by the ears , and he
+Upon my party , I'd revolt , to make
+Only my wars with him : he is a lion
+That I am proud to hunt .
+
+Then , worthy Marcius ,
+Attend upon Cominius to these wars .
+
+It is your former promise .
+
+Sir , it is ;
+And I am constant . Titus Lartius , thou
+Shalt see me once more strike at Tullus' face .
+What ! art thou stiff ? stand'st out ?
+
+No , Caius Marcius ;
+I'll lean upon one crutch and fight with t'other ,
+Ere stay behind this business .
+
+O ! true-bred .
+
+Your company to the Capitol ; where I know
+Our greatest friends attend us .
+
+Lead you on :
+
+
+Follow Cominius ; we must follow you ;
+Right worthy you priority .
+
+Noble Marcius !
+
+Hence ! to your homes ! be gone .
+
+Nay , let them follow :
+The Volsces have much corn ; take these rats thither
+To gnaw their garners . Worshipful mutiners ,
+Your valour puts well forth ; pray , follow .
+
+
+Was ever man so proud as is this Marcius ?
+
+He has no equal .
+
+When we were chosen tribunes for the people ,
+
+Mark'd you his lip and eyes ?
+
+Nay , but his taunts .
+
+Being mov'd , he will not spare to gird the gods .
+
+Bemock the modest moon .
+
+The present wars devour him ; he is grown
+Too proud to be so valiant .
+
+Such a nature ,
+Tickled with good success , disdains the shadow
+Which he treads on at noon . But I do wonder
+His insolence can brook to be commanded
+Under Cominius .
+
+Fame , at the which he aims ,
+In whom already he is well grac'd , cannot
+Better be held nor more attain'd than by
+A place below the first ; for what miscarries
+Shall be the general's fault , though he perform
+To the utmost of a man ; and giddy censure
+Will then cry out of Marcius 'O ! if he
+Had borne the business .'
+
+Besides , if things go well ,
+Opinion , that so sticks on Marcius , shall
+Of his demerits rob Cominius .
+
+Come :
+Half all Cominius' honours are to Marcius ,
+Though Marcius earn'd them not ; and all his faults
+To Marcius shall be honours , though indeed
+In aught he merit not .
+
+Let's hence and hear
+How the dispatch is made ; and in what fashion ,
+More than his singularity , he goes
+Upon this present action .
+
+Let's along .
+
+
+So , your opinion is , Aufidius ,
+That they of Rome are enter'd in our counsels ,
+And know how we proceed .
+
+Is it not yours ?
+What ever have been thought on in this state ,
+That could be brought to bodily act ere Rome
+Had circumvention ? 'Tis not four days gone
+Since I heard thence ; these are the words : I think
+I have the letter here ; yes , here it is .
+They have press'd a power , but it is not known
+Whether for east , or west : the dearth is great ;
+The people mutinous ; and it is rumour'd ,
+Cominius , Marcius , your old enemy ,
+Who is of Rome worse hated than of you ,
+And Titus Lartius , a most valiant Roman ,
+These three lead on this preparation
+Whither 'tis bent : most likely 'tis for you :
+Consider of it .
+
+Our army's in the field :
+We never yet made doubt but Rome was ready
+To answer us .
+
+Nor did you think it folly
+To keep your great pretences veil'd till when
+They needs must show themselves ; which in the hatching ,
+It seem'd , appear'd to Rome . By the discovery
+We shall be shorten'd in our aim , which was
+To take in many towns ere almost Rome
+Should know we were afoot .
+
+Noble Aufidius ,
+Take your commission ; hie you to your bands ;
+Let us alone to guard Corioli :
+If they set down before's , for the remove
+Bring up your army ; but , I think you'll find
+They've not prepared for us .
+
+O ! doubt not that ;
+I speak from certainties . Nay , more ;
+Some parcels of their power are forth already ,
+And only hitherward . I leave your honours .
+If we and Caius Marcius chance to meet ,
+'Tis sworn between us we shall ever strike
+Till one can do no more .
+
+The gods assist you !
+
+And keep your honours safe !
+
+Farewell .
+
+Farewell .
+
+Farewell .
+
+
+I pray you , daughter , sing ; or express yourself in a more comfortable sort . If my son were my husband , I would freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he won honour than in the embracements of his bed where he would show most love . When yet he was but tender-bodied and the only son of my womb , when youth with comeliness plucked all gaze his way , when for a day of kings' entreaties a mother should not sell him an hour from her beholding , I , considering how honour would become such a person , that it was no better than picture-like to hang by the wall , if renown made it not stir , was pleased to let him seek danger where he was like to find fame . To a cruel war I sent him ; from whence he returned , his brows bound with oak . I tell thee , daughter , I sprang not more in joy at first hearing he was a man-child than now in first seeing he had proved himself a man .
+
+But had he died in the business , madam ; how then ?
+
+Then , his good report should have been my son ; I therein would have found issue . Hear me profess sincerely : had I a dozen sons , each in my love alike , and none less dear than thine and my good Marcius , I had rather had eleven die nobly for their country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action .
+
+
+Madam , the Lady Valeria is come to visit you .
+
+Beseech you , give me leave to retire myself .
+
+Indeed , you shall not .
+Methinks I hear hither your husband's drum ,
+See him pluck Aufidius down by the hair ,
+As children from a bear , the Volsces shunning him :
+Methinks I see him stamp thus , and call thus :
+'Come on , you cowards ! you were got in fear ,
+Though you were born in Rome .' His bloody brow
+With his mail'd hand then wiping , forth he goes ,
+Like to a harvestman that's task'd to mow
+Or all or lose his hire .
+
+His bloody brow ! O Jupiter ! no blood .
+
+Away , you fool ! it more becomes a man
+Than gilt his trophy : the breasts of Hecuba ,
+When she did suckle Hector , look'd not lovelier
+Than Hector's forehead when it spit forth blood
+At Grecian swords , contemning . Tell Valeria
+We are fit to bid her welcome .
+
+
+Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius !
+
+He'll beat Aufidius' head below his knee ,
+And tread upon his neck .
+
+
+My ladies both , good day to you .
+
+Sweet madam .
+
+I am glad to see your ladyship .
+
+How do you both ? you are manifest housekeepers . What are you sewing here ? A fine spot , in good faith . How does your little son ?
+
+I thank your ladyship ; well , good madam .
+
+He had rather see the swords and hear a drum , than look upon his schoolmaster .
+
+O' my word , the father's son ; I'll swear 'tis a very pretty boy . O' my troth , I looked upon him o' Wednesday half an hour together : he has such a confirmed countenance . I saw him run after a gilded butterfly ; and when he caught it , he let it go again ; and after it again ; and over and over he comes , and up again ; catched it again : or whether his fall enraged him , or how 'twas , he did so set his teeth and tear it ; O ! I warrant , how he mammocked it !
+
+One on's father's moods .
+
+Indeed , la , 'tis a noble child .
+
+A crack , madam .
+
+Come , lay aside your stitchery ; I must have you play the idle huswife with me this afternoon .
+
+No , good madam ; I will not out of doors .
+
+Not out of doors !
+
+She shall , she shall .
+
+Indeed , no , by your patience ; I'll not over the threshold till my lord return from the wars .
+
+Fie ! you confine yourself most unreasonably . Come ; you must go visit the good lady that lies in .
+
+I will wish her speedy strength , and visit her with my prayers ; but I cannot go thither .
+
+Why , I pray you ?
+
+'Tis not to save labour , nor that I want love .
+
+You would be another Penelope ; yet , they say , all the yarn she spun in Ulysses' absence did but fill Ithaca full of moths . Come ; I would your cambric were sensible as your finger , that you might leave pricking it for pity . Come , you shall go with us .
+
+No , good madam , pardon me ; indeed , I will not forth .
+
+In truth , la , go with me ; and I'll tell you excellent news of your husband .
+
+O , good madam , there can be none yet .
+
+Verily , I do not jest with you ; there came news from him last night .
+
+Indeed , madam ?
+
+In earnest , it's true ; I heard a senator speak it . Thus it is : The Volsces have an army forth ; against whom Cominius the general is gone , with one part of our Roman power : your lord and Titus Lartius are set down before their city Corioli ; they nothing doubt prevailing and to make it brief wars . This is true , on mine honour ; and so , I pray , go with us .
+
+Give me excuse , good madam ; I will obey you in every thing hereafter .
+
+Let her alone , lady : as she is now she will but disease our better mirth .
+
+In troth , I think she would . Fare you well then . Come , good sweet lady . Prithee , Virgilia , turn thy solemness out o' door , and go along with us .
+
+No , at a word , madam ; indeed I must not . I wish you much mirth .
+
+Well then , farewell .
+
+
+Yonder comes news : a wager they have met .
+
+My horse to yours , no .
+
+'Tis done .
+
+Agreed .
+
+Say , has our general met the enemy ?
+
+They lie in view , but have not spoke as yet .
+
+So the good horse is mine .
+
+I'll buy him of you .
+
+No , I'll nor sell nor give him ; lend you him I will
+For half a hundred years . Summon the town .
+
+How far off lie these armies ?
+
+Within this mile and half .
+
+Then shall we hear their 'larum , and they ours .
+Now , Mars , I prithee , make us quick in work ,
+That we with smoking swords may march from hence ,
+To help our fielded friends ! Come , blow thy blast .
+
+Tullus Aufidius , is he within your walls ?
+
+No , nor a man that fears you less than he ,
+That's lesser than a little . Hark , our drums
+
+Are bringing forth our youth : we'll break our walls ,
+Rather than they shall pound us up : our gates ,
+Which yet seem shut , we have but pinn'd with rushes ;
+They'll open of themselves . Hark you , far off !
+
+There is Aufidius : list , what work he makes
+Amongst your cloven army .
+
+O ! they are at it !
+
+Their noise be our instruction . Ladders , ho !
+
+
+They fear us not , but issue forth their city .
+Now put your shields before your hearts , and fight
+With hearts more proof than shields . Advance , brave Titus :
+They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts ,
+Which makes me sweat with wrath . Come on , my fellows :
+He that retires , I'll take him for a Volsce ,
+And he shall feel mine edge .
+
+
+All the contagion of the south light on you ,
+You shames of Rome ! you herd of Boils and plagues
+Plaster you o'er , that you may be abhorr'd
+Further than seen , and one infect another
+Against the wind a mile ! You souls of geese ,
+That bear the shapes of men , how have you run
+From slaves that apes would beat ! Pluto and hell !
+All hurt behind ; backs red , and faces pale
+With flight and agu'd fear ! Mend and charge home ,
+Or , by the fires of heaven , I'll leave the foe
+And make my wars on you ; look to 't : come on ;
+If you'll stand fast , we'll beat them to their wives ,
+As they us to our trenches follow'd .
+
+
+So , now the gates are ope : now prove good seconds :
+'Tis for the followers Fortune widens them ,
+Not for the fliers : mark me , and do the like .
+
+
+Foolhardiness ! not I .
+
+Nor I .
+
+
+See , they have shut him in .
+
+To the pot , I warrant him .
+
+What is become of Marcius ?
+
+Slain , sir , doubtless .
+
+Following the fliers at the very heels ,
+With them he enters ; who , upon the sudden ,
+Clapp'd-to their gates ; he is himself alone ,
+To answer all the city .
+
+O noble fellow !
+Who , sensibly , outdares his senseless sword ,
+And , when it bows , stands up . Thou art left , Marcius :
+A carbuncle entire , as big as thou art ,
+Were not so rich a jewel . Thou wast a soldier
+Even to Cato's wish , not fierce and terrible
+Only in strokes ; but , with thy grim looks and
+The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds ,
+Thou mad'st thine enemies shake , as if the world
+Were feverous and did tremble .
+
+
+Look , sir !
+
+O ! 'tis Marcius !
+Let's fetch him off , or make remain alike .
+
+
+This will I carry to Rome .
+
+And I this .
+
+A murrain on't ! I took this for silver .
+
+See here these movers that do prize their hours
+At a crack'd drachme ! Cushions , leaden spoons ,
+Irons of a doit , doublets that hangmen would
+Bury with those that wore them , these base slaves ,
+Ere yet the fight be done , pack up . Down with them !
+And hark , what noise the general makes ! To him !
+There is the man of my soul's hate , Aufidius ,
+Piercing our Romans : then , valiant Titus , take
+Convenient numbers to make good the city ,
+Whilst I , with those that have the spirit , will haste
+To help Cominius .
+
+Worthy sir , thou bleed'st ;
+Thy exercise hath been too violent
+For a second course of fight .
+
+Sir , praise me not ;
+My work hath yet not warm'd me : fare you well :
+The blood I drop is rather physical
+Than dangerous to me : to Aufidius thus
+I will appear , and fight .
+
+Now the fair goddess , Fortune ,
+Fall deep in love with thee ; and her great charms
+Misguide thy opposers' swords ! Bold gentleman ,
+Prosperity be thy page !
+
+Thy friend no less
+Than those she places highest ! So , farewell .
+
+Thou worthiest Marcius !
+
+Go , sound thy trumpet in the market-place ;
+Call thither all the officers of the town ,
+Where they shall know our mind . Away !
+
+
+Breathe you , my friends : well fought ; we are come off
+Like Romans , neither foolish in our stands ,
+Nor cowardly in retire : believe me , sirs ,
+We shall be charg'd again . Whiles we have struck ,
+By interims and conveying gusts we have heard
+The charges of our friends . Ye Roman gods !
+Lead their successes as we wish our own ,
+That both our powers , with smiling fronts encountering ,
+May give you thankful sacrifice .
+
+Thy news ?
+
+The citizens of Corioli have issu'd ,
+And given to Lartius and to Marcius battle :
+I saw our party to their trenches driven ,
+And then I came away .
+
+Though thou speak'st truth ,
+Methinks thou speak'st not well . How long is't since ?
+
+Above an hour , my lord .
+
+'Tis not a mile ; briefly we heard their drums :
+How couldst thou in a mile confound an hour ,
+And bring thy news so late ?
+
+Spies of the Volsces
+Held me in chase , that I was forc'd to wheel
+Three or four miles about ; else had I , sir ,
+Half an hour since brought my report .
+
+Who's yonder ,
+That does appear as he were flay'd ? O gods !
+He has the stamp of Marcius ; and I have
+Before-time seen him thus .
+
+Come I too late ?
+
+The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabor ,
+More than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue
+From every meaner man .
+
+
+Come I too late ?
+
+Ay , if you come not in the blood of others ,
+But mantled in your own .
+
+O ! let me clip ye
+In arms as sound as when I woo'd , in heart
+As merry as when our nuptial day was done ,
+And tapers burn'd to bedward .
+
+Flower of warriors .
+How is't with Titus Lartius ?
+
+As with a man busied about decrees :
+Condemning some to death , and some to exile ;
+Ransoming him , or pitying , threat'ning the other ;
+Holding Corioli in the name of Rome ,
+Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash ,
+To let him slip at will .
+
+Where is that slave
+Which told me they had beat you to your trenches ?
+Where is he ? Call him hither .
+
+Let him alone ;
+He did inform the truth : but for our gentlemen ,
+The common file a plague ! tribunes for them !
+The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat as they did budge
+From rascals worse than they .
+
+But how prevail'd you ?
+
+Will the time serve to tell ? I do not think .
+Where is the enemy ? Are you lords o' the field ?
+If not , why cease you till you are so ?
+
+Marcius , we have at disadvantage fought ,
+And did retire to win our purpose .
+
+How lies their battle ? Know you on which side
+They have plac'd their men of trust ?
+
+As I guess , Marcius ,
+Their bands i' the vaward are the Antiates ,
+Of their best trust ; o'er them Aufidius ,
+Their very heart of hope .
+
+I do beseech you ,
+By all the battles wherein we have fought ,
+By the blood we have shed together , by the vows
+We have made to endure friends , that you directly
+Set me against Aufidius and his Antiates ;
+And that you not delay the present , but ,
+Filling the air with swords advanc'd and darts ,
+We prove this very hour .
+
+Though I could wish
+You were conducted to a gentle bath ,
+And balms applied to you , yet dare I never
+Deny your asking : take your choice of those
+That best can aid your action .
+
+Those are they
+That most are willing . If any such be here
+As it were sin to doubt that love this painting
+Wherein you see me smear'd ; if any fear
+Lesser his person than an ill report ;
+If any think brave death outweighs bad life ,
+And that his country's dearer than himself ;
+Let him , alone , or so many so minded ,
+Wave thus , to express his disposition ,
+And follow Marcius .
+
+O ! me alone ? Make you a sword of me ?
+If these shows be not outward , which of you
+But is four Volsces ? None of you but is
+Able to bear against the great Aufidius
+A shield as hard as his . A certain number ,
+Though thanks to all , must I select from all : the rest
+Shall bear the business in some other fight ,
+As cause will be obey'd . Please you to march ;
+And four shall quickly draw out my command ,
+Which men are best inclin'd .
+
+March on , my fellows :
+Make good this ostentation , and you shall
+Divide in all with us .
+
+
+So ; let the ports be guarded : keep your duties ,
+As I have set them down . If I do send , dispatch
+Those centuries to our aid ; the rest will serve
+For a short holding : if we lose the field ,
+We cannot keep the town .
+
+Fear not our care , sir .
+
+Hence , and shut your gates upon us .
+Our guider , come ; to the Roman camp conduct us .
+
+
+I'll fight with none but thee ; for I do hate thee
+Worse than a promise-breaker .
+
+We hate alike :
+Not Afric owns a serpent I abhor
+More than thy fame and envy . Fix thy foot .
+
+Let the first budger die the other's slave ,
+And the gods doom him after !
+
+If I fly , Marcius ,
+Halloo me like a hare .
+
+Within these three hours , Tullus ,
+Alone I fought in your Corioli walls ,
+And made what work I pleas'd ; 'tis not my blood
+Wherein thou seest me mask'd ; for thy revenge
+Wrench up thy power to the highest .
+
+Wert thou the Hector
+That was the whip of your bragg'd progeny ,
+Thou shouldst not 'scape me here .
+
+Officious , and not valiant , you have sham'd me
+In your condemned seconds .
+
+
+If I should tell thee o'er this thy day's work ,
+Thou'lt not believe thy deeds : but I'll report it
+Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles ,
+Where great patricians shall attend and shrug ,
+I' the end , admire ; where ladies shall be frighted ,
+And , gladly quak'd , hear more ; where the dull Tribunes ,
+That , with the fusty plebeians , hate thine honours ,
+Shall say , against their hearts ,
+'We thank the gods our Rome hath such a soldier !'
+Yet cam'st thou to a morsel of this feast ,
+Having fully din'd before .
+
+
+O general ,
+Here is the steed , we the caparison :
+Hadst thou beheld
+
+Pray now , no more : my mother ,
+Who has a charter to extol her blood ,
+When she does praise me grieves me . I have done
+As you have done ; that's what I can ; induc'd
+As you have been ; that's for my country :
+He that has but effected his good will
+Hath overta'en mine act .
+
+You shall not be
+The grave of your deserving ; Rome must know
+The value of her own : 'twere a concealment
+Worse than a theft , no less than a traducement ,
+To hide your doings ; and to silence that ,
+Which , to the spire and top of praises vouch'd ,
+Would seem but modest . Therefore , I beseech you ,
+In sign of what you are , not to reward
+What you have done ,before our army hear me .
+
+I have some wounds upon me , and they smart
+To hear themselves remember'd .
+
+Should they not .
+Well might they fester 'gainst ingratitude ,
+And tent themselves with death . Of all the horses ,
+Whereof we have ta'en good , and good store , of all
+The treasure , in this field achiev'd and city ,
+We render you the tenth ; to be ta'en forth ,
+Before the common distribution ,
+At your only choice .
+
+I thank you , general ;
+But cannot make my heart consent to take
+A bribe to pay my sword : I do refuse it ;
+And stand upon my common part with those
+That have beheld the doing .
+
+May these same instruments , which you profane ,
+Never sound more ! When drums and trumpets shall
+I' the field prove flatterers , let courts and cities be
+Made all of false-fac'd soothing !
+When steel grows soft as is the parasite's silk ,
+Let him be made a coverture for the wars !
+No more , I say ! For that I have not wash'd
+My nose that bled , or foil'd some debile wretch ,
+Which , without note , here's many else have done ,
+You shout me forth
+In acclamations hyperbolical ;
+As if I lov'd my little should be dieted
+In praises sauc'd with lies .
+
+Too modest are you ;
+More cruel to your good report than grateful
+To us that give you truly . By your patience ,
+If 'gainst yourself you be incens'd , we'll put you ,
+Like one that means his proper harm , in manacles ,
+Then reason safely with you . Therefore , be it known ,
+As to us , to all the world , that Caius Marcius
+Wears this war's garland ; in token of the which ,
+My noble steed , known to the camp , I give him ,
+With all his trim belonging ; and from this time ,
+For what he did before Corioli , call him ,
+With all the applause and clamour of the host ,
+The addition nobly ever !
+
+Caius Marcius Coriolanus !
+
+
+I will go wash ;
+And when my face is fair , you shall perceive
+Whether I blush , or no : howbeit , I thank you .
+I mean to stride your steed , and at all times
+To undercrest your good addition
+To the fairness of my power .
+
+So , to our tent ;
+Where , ere we do repose us , we will write
+To Rome of our success . You , Titus Lartius ,
+Must to Corioli back : send us to Rome
+The best , with whom we may articulate ,
+For their own good and ours .
+
+I shall , my lord .
+
+The gods begin to mock me . I , that now
+Refus'd most princely gifts , am bound to beg
+Of my lord general .
+
+Take it ; 'tis yours . What is't ?
+
+I sometime lay here in Corioli
+At a poor man's house ; he us'd me kindly :
+He cried to me ; I saw him prisoner ;
+But then Aufidius was within my view ,
+And wrath o'erwhelm'd my pity : I request you
+To give my poor host freedom .
+
+O ! well begg'd !
+Were he the butcher of my son , he should
+Be free as is the wind . Deliver him , Titus .
+
+Marcius , his name ?
+
+By Jupiter ! forgot .
+I am weary ; yea , my memory is tir'd .
+Have we no wine here ?
+
+Go we to our tent :
+The blood upon your visage dries ; 'tis time
+It should be look'd to : come .
+
+The town is ta'en !
+
+'Twill be deliver'd back on good condition .
+
+Condition !
+I would I were a Roman ; for I cannot ,
+Being a Volsce , be that I am . Condition !
+What good condition can a treaty find
+I' the part that is at mercy ? Five times , Marcius ,
+I have fought with thee ; so often hast thou beat me ,
+And wouldst do so , I think , should we encounter
+As often as we eat . By the elements ,
+If e'er again I meet him beard to beard ,
+He is mine , or I am his : mine emulation
+Hath not that honour in't it had ; for where
+I thought to crush him in an equal force
+True sword to sword I'll potch at him some way
+Or wrath or craft may get him .
+
+He's the devil .
+
+Bolder , though not so subtle . My valour's poison'd
+With only suffering stain by him ; for him
+Shall fly out of itself . Nor sleep nor sanctuary ,
+Being naked , sick , nor fane nor Capitol ,
+The prayers of priests , nor times of sacrifice ,
+Embarquements all of fury , shall lift up
+Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst
+My hate to Marcius . Where I find him , were it
+At home , upon my brother's guard , even there
+Against the hospitable canon , would I
+Wash my fierce hand in 's heart . Go you to the city ;
+Learn how 'tis held , and what they are that must
+Be hostages for Rome .
+
+Will not you go ?
+
+I am attended at the cypress grove : I pray you
+'Tis south the city mills bring me word thither
+How the world goes , that to the pace of it
+I may spur on my journey .
+
+I shall , sir .
+
+The augurer tells me we shall have news to-night .
+
+Good or bad ?
+
+Not according to the prayer of the people , for they love not Marcius .
+
+Nature teaches beasts to know their friends .
+
+Pray you , who does the wolf love ?
+
+The lamb .
+
+Ay , to devour him ; as the hungry plebeians would the noble Marcius .
+
+He's a lamb indeed , that baes like a bear .
+
+He's a bear indeed , that lives like a lamb . You two are old men ; tell me one thing that I shall ask you .
+
+Well , sir .
+
+Well , sir .
+
+In what enormity is Marcius poor in , that you two have not in abundance ?
+
+He's poor in no one fault , but stored with all .
+
+Especially in pride .
+
+And topping all others in boasting .
+
+This is strange now : do you two know how you are censured here in the city , I mean of us o' the right hand file ? Do you ?
+
+Why , how are we censured ?
+
+Because you talk of pride now ,Will you not be angry ?
+
+Well , well , sir ; well .
+
+Why , 'tis no great matter ; for a very little thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience : give your dispositions the reins , and be angry at your pleasures ; at the least , if you take it as a pleasure to you in being so . You blame Marcius for being proud ?
+
+We do it not alone , sir .
+
+I know you can do very little alone ; for your helps are many , or else your actions would grow wondrous single : your abilities are too infant-like , for doing much alone . You talk of pride : O ! that you could turn your eyes towards the napes of your necks , and make but an interior survey of your good selves . O ! that you could .
+
+What then , sir ?
+
+Why , then you should discover a brace of unmeriting , proud , violent , testy magistrates alias fools as any in Rome .
+
+Menenius , you are known well enough too .
+
+I am known to be a humorous patrician , and one that loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tiber in't ; said to be something imperfect in favouring the first complaint ; hasty and tinder-like upon too trivial motion ; one that converses more with the buttock of the night than with the forehead of the morning . What I think I utter , and spend my malice in my breath . Meeting two such wealsmen as you are ,I cannot call you Lycurguses ,if the drink you give me touch my palate adversely , I make a crooked face at it . I cannot say your worships have delivered the matter well when I find the ass in compound with the major part of your syllables ; and though I must be content to bear with those that say you are reverend grave men , yet they lie deadly that tell you have good faces . If you see this in the map of my microcosm , follows it that I am known well enough too ? What harm can your bisson conspectuities glean out of this character , if I be known well enough too ?
+
+Come , sir , come , we know you well enough .
+
+You know neither me , yourselves , nor anything . You are ambitious for poor knaves' caps and legs : you wear out a good wholesome forenoon in hearing a cause between an orange-wife and a fosset-seller , and then rejourn the controversy of three-pence to a second day of audience . When you are hearing a matter between party and party , if you chance to be pinched with the colic , you make faces like mummers , set up the bloody flag against all patience , and , in roaring for a chamber-pot , dismiss the controversy bleeding , the more entangled by your hearing : all the peace you make in their cause is , calling both the parties knaves . You are a pair of strange ones .
+
+Come , come , you are well understood to be a perfecter giber for the table than a necessary bencher in the Capitol .
+
+Our very priests must become mockers if they shall encounter such ridiculous subjects as you are . When you speak best unto the purpose it is not worth the wagging of your beards ; and your beards deserve not so honourable a grave as to stuff a botcher's cushion , or to be entombed in an ass's pack-saddle . Yet you must be saying Marcius is proud ; who , in a cheap estimation , is worth all your predecessors since Deucalion , though peradventure some of the best of 'em were hereditary hangmen . Good den to your worships : more of your conversation would infect my brain , being the herdsmen of the beastly plebeians : I will be bold to take my leave of you .
+
+
+How now , my as fair as noble ladies ,and the moon , were she earthly , no nobler ,whither do you follow your eyes so fast ?
+
+Honourable Menenius , my boy Marcius approaches ; for the love of Juno , let's go .
+
+Ha ! Marcius coming home ?
+
+Ay , worthy Menenius ; and with most prosperous approbation .
+
+Take my cap , Jupiter , and I thank thee . Hoo ! Marcius coming home !
+
+Nay , 'tis true .
+
+Nay , 'tis true .
+
+Look , here's a letter from him : the state hath another , his wife another ; and , I think , there's one at home for you .
+
+I will make my very house reel to-night . A letter for me !
+
+Yes , certain , there's a letter for you ; I saw it .
+
+A letter for me ! It gives me an estate of seven years' health ; in which time I will make a lip at the physician : the most sovereign prescription in Galen is but empiricutic , and , to this preservative , of no better report than a horse-drench . Is he not wounded ? he was wont to come home wounded .
+
+O ! no , no , no .
+
+O ! he is wounded , I thank the gods for't .
+
+So do I too , if it be not too much . Brings a' victory in his pocket ? The wounds become him .
+
+On 's brows , Menenius ; he comes the third time home with the oaken garland .
+
+Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly ?
+
+Titus Lartius writes they fought together , but Aufidius got off .
+
+And 'twas time for him too , I'll warrant him that : an he had stayed by him I would not have been so fidiused for all the chests in Corioli , and the gold that's in them . Is the senate possessed of this ?
+
+Good ladies , let's go . Yes , yes , yes ; the senate has letters from the general , wherein he gives my son the whole name of the war . He hath in this action outdone his former deeds doubly .
+
+In troth there's wondrous things spoke of him .
+
+Wondrous ! ay , I warrant you , and not without his true purchasing .
+
+The gods grant them true !
+
+True ! pow , wow .
+
+True ! I'll be sworn they are true . Where is he wounded ?
+
+
+Where is he wounded ?
+
+I' the shoulder , and i' the left arm : there will be large cicatrices to show the people when he shall stand for his place . He received in the repulse of Tarquin seven hurts i' the body .
+
+One i' the neck , and two i' the thigh , there's nine that I know .
+
+He had , before this last expedition , twenty-five wounds upon him .
+
+Now , it's twenty-seven : every gash was an enemy's grave .
+
+Hark ! the trumpets .
+
+These are the ushers of Marcius : before him he carries noise , and behind him he leaves tears :
+Death , that dark spirit , in 's nervy arm doth lie ;
+Which , being advanc'd , declines , and then men die .
+
+
+Know , Rome , that all alone Marcius did fight
+Within Corioli gates : where he hath won ,
+With fame , a name to Caius Marcius ; these
+In honour follows Coriolanus .
+Welcome to Rome , renowned Coriolanus !
+
+
+Welcome to Rome , renowned Coriolanus !
+
+No more of this ; it does offend my heart :
+Pray now , no more .
+
+Look , sir , your mother !
+
+O !
+You have , I know , petition'd all the gods
+For my prosperity .
+
+
+Nay , my good soldier , up ;
+My gentle Marcius , worthy Caius , and
+By deed-achieving honour newly nam'd ,
+What is it ?Coriolanus must I call thee ?
+But O ! thy wife !
+
+My gracious silence , hail !
+Wouldst thou have laugh'd had I come coffin'd home ,
+That weep'st to see me triumph ? Ah ! my dear ,
+Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear ,
+And mothers that lack sons .
+
+Now , the gods crown thee !
+
+And live you yet ?
+
+O my sweet lady , pardon .
+
+I know not where to turn : O ! welcome home ;
+And welcome , general ; and ye're welcome all .
+
+A hundred thousand welcomes : I could weep ,
+And I could laugh ; I am light , and heavy . Welcome .
+A curse begnaw at very root on 's heart
+That is not glad to see thee ! You are three
+That Rome should dote on ; yet , by the faith of men ,
+We have some old crab-trees here at home that will not
+Be grafted to your relish . Yet , welcome , warriors !
+We call a nettle but a nettle , and
+The faults of fools but folly .
+
+Ever right .
+
+Menenius , ever , ever .
+
+Give way there , and go on !
+
+Your hand , and yours :
+Ere in our own house I do shade my head ,
+The good patricians must be visited ;
+From whom I have receiv'd not only greetings ,
+But with them change of honours .
+
+I have liv'd
+To see inherited my very wishes ,
+And the buildings of my fancy : only
+There's one thing wanting , which I doubt not but
+Our Rome will cast upon thee .
+
+Know , good mother ,
+I had rather be their servant in my way
+Than sway with them in theirs .
+
+On , to the Capitol !
+
+
+All tongues speak of him , and the bleared sights
+Are spectacled to see him : your prattling nurse
+Into a rapture lets her baby cry
+While she chats him : the kitchen malkin pins
+Her richest lockram 'bout her reechy neck ,
+Clambering the walls to eye him : stalls , bulks , windows ,
+Are smother'd up , leads fill'd , and ridges hors'd
+With variable complexions , all agreeing
+In earnestness to see him : seld-shown flamens
+Do press among the popular throngs , and puff
+To win a vulgar station : our veil'd dames
+Commit the war of white and damask in
+Their nicely-gawded cheeks to the wanton spoil
+Of Ph bus' burning kisses : such a pother
+As if that whatsoever god who leads him
+Were slily crept into his human powers ,
+And gave him graceful posture .
+
+On the sudden
+I warrant him consul .
+
+Then our office may ,
+During his power , go sleep .
+
+He cannot temperately transport his honours
+From where he should begin and end , but will
+Lose those he hath won .
+
+In that there's comfort .
+
+Doubt not , the commoners , for whom we stand ,
+But they upon their ancient malice will
+Forget with the least cause these his new honours ,
+Which that he'll give them , make I as little question
+As he is proud to do't .
+
+I heard him swear ,
+Were he to stand for consul , never would he
+Appear i' the market-place , nor on him put
+The napless vesture of humility ;
+Nor , showing , as the manner is , his wounds
+To the people , beg their stinking breaths .
+
+'Tis right .
+
+It was his word . O ! he would miss it rather
+Than carry it but by the suit o' the gentry to him
+And the desire of the nobles .
+
+I wish no better
+Than have him hold that purpose and to put it
+In execution .
+
+'Tis most like he will .
+
+It shall be to him then , as our good wills ,
+A sure destruction .
+
+So it must fall out
+To him or our authorities . For an end ,
+We must suggest the people in what hatred
+He still hath held them ; that to his power he would
+Have made them mules , silenc'd their pleaders , and
+Dispropertied their freedoms ; holding them ,
+In human action and capacity ,
+Of no more soul nor fitness for the world
+Than camels in the war ; who have their provand
+Only for bearing burdens , and sore blows
+For sinking under them .
+
+This , as you say , suggested
+At some time when his soaring insolence
+Shall teach the people which time shall not want ,
+If he be put upon 't ; and that's as easy
+As to set dogs on sheep will be his fire
+To kindle their dry stubble ; and their blaze
+Shall darken him for ever .
+
+
+What's the matter ?
+
+You are sent for to the Capitol . 'Tis thought
+That Marcius shall be consul .
+I have seen the dumb men throng to see him , and
+The blind to hear him speak : matrons flung gloves ,
+Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchers
+Upon him as he pass'd ; the nobles bended ,
+As to Jove's statue , and the commons made
+A shower and thunder with their caps and shouts :
+I never saw the like .
+
+Let's to the Capitol ;
+And carry with us ears and eyes for the time ,
+But hearts for the event .
+
+Have with you .
+
+
+Come , come , they are almost here .
+How many stand for consulships ?
+
+Three , they say ; but 'tis thought of every one Coriolanus will carry it .
+
+That's a brave fellow ; but he's vengeance proud , and loves not the common people .
+
+Faith , there have been many great men that have flattered the people , who ne'er loved them ; and there be many that they have loved , they know not wherefore : so that if they love they know not why , they hate upon no better a ground . Therefore , for Coriolanus neither to care whether they love or hate him manifests the true knowledge he has in their disposition ; and out of his noble carelessness lets them plainly see't .
+
+If he did not care whether he had their love or no , he waved indifferently 'twixt doing them neither good nor harm ; but he seeks their hate with greater devotion than they can render it him ; and leaves nothing undone that may fully discover him their opposite . Now , to seem to affect the malice and displeasure of the people is as bad as that which he dislikes , to flatter them for their love .
+
+He hath deserved worthily of his country ; and his ascent is not by such easy degrees as those who , having been supple and courteous to the people , bonneted , without any further deed to have them at all into their estimation and report ; but he hath so planted his honours in their eyes , and his actions in their hearts , that for their tongues to be silent , and not confess so much , were a kind of ingrateful injury ; to report otherwise , were a malice , that , giving itself the lie , would pluck reproof and rebuke from every ear that heard it .
+
+No more of him ; he is a worthy man : make way , they are coming .
+
+Having determin'd of the Volsces , and
+To send for Titus Lartius , it remains ,
+As the main point of this our after-meeting ,
+To gratify his noble service that
+Hath thus stood for his country : therefore , please you ,
+Most reverend and grave elders , to desire
+The present consul , and last general
+In our well-found successes , to report
+A little of that worthy work perform'd
+By Caius Marcius Coriolanus , whom
+We meet here both to thank and to remember
+With honours like himself .
+
+Speak , good Cominius :
+Leave nothing out for length , and make us think
+Rather our state's defective for requital ,
+Than we to stretch it out .
+
+Masters o' the people ,
+We do request your kindest ears , and , after ,
+Your loving motion toward the common body ,
+To yield what passes here .
+
+We are convented
+Upon a pleasing treaty , and have hearts
+Inclinable to honour and advance
+The theme of our assembly .
+
+Which the rather
+We shall be bless'd to do , if he remember
+A kinder value of the people than
+He hath hereto priz'd them at .
+
+That's off , that's off ;
+I would you rather had been silent . Please you
+To hear Cominius speak ?
+
+Most willingly ;
+But yet my caution was more pertinent
+Than the rebuke you give it .
+
+He loves your people ;
+But tie him not to be their bedfellow .
+Worthy Cominius , speak .
+
+Nay , keep your place .
+
+Sit , Coriolanus ; never shame to hear
+What you have nobly done .
+
+Your honours' pardon :
+I had rather have my wounds to heal again
+Than hear say how I got them .
+
+Sir , I hope
+My words disbench'd you not .
+
+No , sir : yet oft ,
+When blows have made me stay , I fled from words .
+You sooth'd not , therefore hurt not . But your people ,
+I love them as they weigh .
+
+Pray now , sit down .
+
+I had rather have one scratch my head i' the sun
+When the alarum were struck than idly sit
+To hear my nothings monster'd .
+
+
+Masters of the people ,
+Your multiplying spawn how can he flatter ,
+That's thousand to one good one ,when you now see
+He had rather venture all his limbs for honour
+Than one on 's ears to hear it . Proceed , Cominius .
+
+I shall lack voice : the deeds of Coriolanus
+Should not be utter'd feebly . It is held
+That valour is the chiefest virtue , and
+Most dignifies the haver : if it be ,
+The man I speak of cannot in the world
+Be singly counterpois'd . At sixteen years ,
+When Tarquin made a head for Rome , he fought
+Beyond the mark of others ; our then dictator ,
+Whom with all praise I point at , saw him fight ,
+When with his Amazonian chin he drove
+The bristled lips before him . He bestrid
+An o'er-press'd Roman , and i' the consul's view
+Slew three opposers : Tarquin's self he met ,
+And struck him on his knee : in that day's feats ,
+When he might act the woman in the scene ,
+He prov'd best man i' the field , and for his meed
+Was brow-bound with the oak . His pupil age
+Man-enter'd thus , he waxed like a sea ,
+And in the brunt of seventeen battles since
+He lurch'd all swords of the garland . For this last ,
+Before and in Corioli , let me say ,
+I cannot speak him home : he stopp'd the fliers ,
+And by his rare example made the coward
+Turn terror into sport : as weeds before
+A vessel under sail , so men obey'd ,
+And fell below his stem : his sword , death's stamp ,
+Where it did mark , it took ; from face to foot
+He was a thing of blood , whose every motion
+Was tim'd with dying cries : alone he enter'd
+The mortal gate of the city , which he painted
+With shunless destiny ; aidless came off ,
+And with a sudden re-enforcement struck
+Corioli like a planet . Now all's his :
+When by and by the din of war 'gan pierce
+His ready sense ; then straight his doubled spirit
+Re-quicken'd what in flesh was fatigate ,
+And to the battle came he ; where he did
+Run reeking o'er the lives of men , as if
+'Twere a perpetual spoil ; and till we call'd
+Both field and city ours , he never stood
+To ease his breast with panting .
+
+Worthy man !
+
+He cannot but with measure fit the honours
+Which we devise him .
+
+Our spoils he kick'd at ,
+And look'd upon things precious as they were
+The common muck o' the world : he covets less
+Than misery itself would give ; rewards
+His deeds with doing them , and is content
+To spend the time to end it .
+
+He's right noble :
+Let him be call'd for .
+
+Call Coriolanus .
+
+He doth appear .
+
+
+The senate , Coriolanus , are well pleas'd
+To make thee consul .
+
+I do owe them still
+My life and services .
+
+It then remains
+That you do speak to the people .
+
+I do beseech you ,
+Let me o'erleap that custom , for I cannot
+Put on the gown , stand naked , and entreat them ,
+For my wounds' sake , to give their suffrage : please you ,
+That I may pass this doing .
+
+Sir , the people
+Must have their voices ; neither will they bate
+One jot of ceremony .
+
+Put them not to 't :
+Pray you , go fit you to the custom , and
+Take to you , as your predecessors have ,
+Your honour with your form .
+
+It is a part
+That I shall blush in acting , and might well
+Be taken from the people .
+
+Mark you that ?
+
+To brag unto them , thus I did , and thus ;
+Show them the unaching scars which I should hide ,
+As if I had receiv'd them for the hire
+Of their breath only !
+
+Do not stand upon't .
+We recommend to you , tribunes of the people ,
+Our purpose to them ; and to our noble consul
+Wish we all joy and honour .
+
+To Coriolanus come all joy and honour !
+
+
+You see how he intends to use the people .
+
+May they perceive 's intent ! He will require them ,
+As if he did contemn what he requested
+Should be in them to give .
+
+Come ; we'll inform them
+Of our proceedings here : on the market-place
+I know they do attend us .
+
+
+Once , if he do require our voices , we ought not to deny him .
+
+We may , sir , if we will .
+
+We have power in ourselves to do it , but it is a power that we have no power to do ; for if he show us his wounds , and tell us his deeds , we are to put our tongues into those wounds and speak for them ; so , if he tell us his noble deeds , we must also tell him our noble acceptance of them . Ingratitude is monstrous , and for the multitude to be ingrateful were to make a monster of the multitude ; of the which , we being members , should bring ourselves to be monstrous members .
+
+And to make us no better thought of , a little help will serve ; for once we stood up about the corn , he himself stuck not to call us the many-headed multitude .
+
+We have been called so of many ; not that our heads are some brown , some black , some abram , some bald , but that our wits are so diversely coloured : and truly I think , if all our wits were to issue out of one skull , they would fly east , west , north , south ; and their consent of one direct way should be at once to all the points o' the compass .
+
+Think you so ? Which way do you judge my wit would fly ?
+
+Nay , your wit will not so soon out as another man's will ; 'tis strongly wedged up in a block-head ; but if it were at liberty , 'twould , sure , southward .
+
+Why that way ?
+
+To lose itself in a fog ; where being three parts melted away with rotten dews , the fourth would return for conscience' sake , to help to get thee a wife .
+
+You are never without your tricks . you may , you may .
+
+Are you all resolved to give your voices ? But that's no matter , the greater part carries it . I say , if he would incline to the people , there was never a worthier man .
+
+Here he comes , and in a gown of humility mark his behaviour . We are not to stay all together , but to come by him where he stands , by ones , by twos , and by threes . He's to make his requests by particulars ; wherein every one of us has a single honour , in giving him our own voices with our own tongues : therefore follow me , and I'll direct you how you shall go by him .
+
+Content , content .
+
+
+O , sir , you are not right : have you not known
+The worthiest men have done't ?
+
+What must I say ?
+'I pray , sir ,' Plague upon't ! I cannot bring
+My tongue to such a pace . 'Look , sir , my wounds !
+I got them in my country's service , when
+Some certain of your brethren roar'd and ran
+From the noise of our own drums .'
+
+O me ! the gods !
+You must not speak of that : you must desire them
+To think upon you .
+
+Think upon me ! Hang 'em !
+I would they would forget me , like the virtues
+Which our divines lose by 'em .
+
+You'll mar all :
+I'll leave you . Pray you , speak to 'em , I pray you ,
+In wholesome manner .
+
+Bid them wash their faces ,
+And keep their teeth clean .
+
+So , here comes a brace .
+
+You know the cause , sir , of my standing here ?
+
+We do , sir ; tell us what hath brought you to 't .
+
+Mine own desert .
+
+Your own desert !
+
+Ay , not mine own desire .
+
+How ! not your own desire ?
+
+No , sir , 'twas never my desire yet to trouble the poor with begging .
+
+You must think , if we give you any thing , we hope to gain by you .
+
+Well , then , I pray , your price o' the consulship ?
+
+The price is , to ask it kindly .
+
+Kindly ! sir , I pray , let me ha 't : I have wounds to show you , which shall be yours in private . Your good voice , sir ; what say you ?
+
+You shall ha 't , worthy sir .
+
+A match , sir . There is in all two worthy voices begged . I have your alms : adieu .
+
+But this is something odd .
+
+An 'twere to give again ,but 'tis no matter .
+
+Pray you now , if it may stand with the tune of your voices that I may be consul , I have here the customary gown .
+
+You have deserved nobly of your country , and you have not deserved nobly .
+
+Your enigma ?
+
+You have been a scourge to her enemies , you have been a rod to her friends ; you have not indeed loved the common people .
+
+You should account me the more virtuous that I have not been common in my love . I will , sir , flatter my sworn brother the people , to earn a dearer estimation of them ; 'tis a condition they account gentle : and since the wisdom of their choice is rather to have my hat than my heart , I will practise the insinuating nod , and be off to them most counterfeitly ; that is , sir , I will counterfeit the bewitchment of some popular man , and give it bountifully to the desirers . Therefore , beseech you , I may be consul .
+
+We hope to find you our friend , and therefore give you our voices heartily .
+
+You have received many wounds for your country .
+
+I will not seal your knowledge with showing them . I will make much of your voices , and so trouble you no further .
+
+The gods give you joy , sir , heartily !
+
+
+Most sweet voices !
+Better it is to die , better to starve ,
+Than crave the hire which first we do deserve .
+Why in this woolvish toge should I stand here ,
+To beg of Hob and Dick , that do appear ,
+Their needless vouches ? Custom calls me to 't :
+What custom wills , in all things should we do 't ,
+The dust on antique time would lie unswept ,
+And mountainous error be too highly heap'd
+For truth to o'er-peer . Rather than fool it so ,
+Let the high office and the honour go
+To one that would do thus . I am half through ;
+The one part suffer'd , the other will I do .
+Here come more voices .
+
+
+Your voices : for your voices I have fought ;
+Watch'd for your voices ; for your voices bear
+Of wounds two dozen odd ; battles thrice six
+I have seen and heard of ; for your voices have
+Done many things , some less , some more ; your voices :
+
+Indeed , I would be consul .
+
+He has done nobly , and cannot go without any honest man's voice .
+
+Therefore let him be consul . The gods give him joy , and make him good friend to the people !
+
+Amen , amen .
+God save thee , noble consul !
+
+
+Worthy voices !
+
+
+You have stood your limitation ; and the tribunes
+Endue you with the people's voice : remains
+That , in the official marks invested , you
+Anon do meet the senate .
+
+Is this done ?
+
+The custom of request you have discharg'd :
+The people do admit you , and are summon'd
+To meet anon , upon your approbation .
+
+Where ? at the senate-house ?
+
+There , Coriolanus .
+
+May I change these garments ?
+
+You may , sir .
+
+That I'll straight do ; and , knowing myself again ,
+Repair to the senate-house .
+
+I'll keep you company . Will you along ?
+
+We stay here for the people .
+
+Fare you well .
+
+He has it now ; and by his looks , methinks ,
+'Tis warm at's heart .
+
+With a proud heart he wore
+His humble weeds . Will you dismiss the people ?
+
+
+How now , my masters ! have you chose this man ?
+
+He has our voices , sir .
+
+We pray the gods he may deserve your love .
+
+Amen , sir . To my poor unworthy notice ,
+He mock'd us when he begg'd our voices .
+
+Certainly ,
+He flouted us downright .
+
+No , 'tis his kind of speech ; he did not mock us .
+
+Not one amongst us , save yourself , but says
+He used us scornfully : he should have show'd us
+His marks of merit , wounds receiv'd for's country .
+
+Why , so he did , I am sure .
+
+No , no ; no man saw 'em .
+
+He said he had wounds , which he could show in private ;
+And with his hat , thus waving it in scorn ,
+'I would be consul ,' says he : 'aged custom ,
+But by your voices , will not so permit me ;
+Your voices therefore :' when we granted that ,
+Here was , 'I thank you for your voices , thank you ,
+Your most sweet voices : now you have left your voices
+I have no further with you .' Was not this mockery ?
+
+Why , either were you ignorant to see 't ,
+Or , seeing it , of such childish friendliness
+To yield your voices ?
+
+Could you not have told him
+As you were lesson'd , when he had no power ,
+But was a petty servant to the state ,
+He was your enemy , ever spake against
+Your liberties and the charters that you bear
+I' the body of the weal ; and now , arriving
+A place of potency and sway o' the state ,
+If he should still malignantly remain
+Fast foe to the plebeii , your voices might
+Be curses to yourselves ? You should have said
+That as his worthy deeds did claim no less
+Than what he stood for , so his gracious nature
+Would think upon you for your voices and
+Translate his malice towards you into love ,
+Standing your friendly lord .
+
+Thus to have said ,
+As you were fore-advis'd , had touch'd his spirit
+And tried his inclination ; from him pluck'd
+Either his gracious promise , which you might ,
+As cause had call'd you up , have held him to ;
+Or else it would have gall'd his surly nature ,
+Which easily endures not article
+Tying him to aught ; so , putting him to rage ,
+You should have ta'en the advantage of his choler ,
+And pass'd him unelected .
+
+Did you perceive
+He did solicit you in free contempt
+When he did need your loves , and do you think
+That his contempt shall not be bruising to you
+When he hath power to crush ? Why , had your bodies
+No heart among you ? or had you tongues to cry
+Against the rectorship of judgment ?
+
+Have you
+Ere now denied the asker ? and now again
+Of him that did not ask , but mock , bestow
+Your su'd-for tongues ?
+
+He's not confirm'd ; we may deny him yet .
+
+And will deny him :
+I'll have five hundred voices of that sound .
+
+Ay , twice five hundred and their friends to piece 'em .
+
+Get you hence instantly , and tell those friends ,
+They have chose a consul that will from them take
+Their liberties ; make them of no more voice
+Than dogs that are as often beat for barking
+As therefore kept to do so .
+
+Let them assemble ;
+And , on a safer judgment , all revoke
+Your ignorant election . Enforce his pride ,
+And his old hate unto you ; besides , forget not
+With what contempt he wore the humble weed ;
+How in his suit he scorn'd you ; but your loves ,
+Thinking upon his services , took from you
+The apprehension of his present portance ,
+Which most gibingly , ungravely , he did fashion
+After the inveterate hate he bears you .
+
+Lay
+A fault on us , your tribunes ; that we labour'd ,
+No impediment between ,but that you must
+Cast your election on him .
+
+Say , you chose him
+More after our commandment than as guided
+By your own true affections ; and that , your minds ,
+Pre-occupied with what you rather must do
+Than what you should , made you against the grain
+To voice him consul : lay the fault on us .
+
+Ay , spare us not . Say we read lectures to you ,
+How youngly he began to serve his country ,
+How long continu'd , and what stock he springs of ,
+The noble house o' the Marcians , from whence came
+That Ancus Marcius , Numa's daughter's son ,
+Who , after great Hostilius , here was king ;
+Of the same house Publius and Quintus were ,
+That our best water brought by conduits hither ;
+And Censorinus , that was so surnam'd ,
+And nobly nam'd so , twice being censor ,
+Was his great ancestor .
+
+One thus descended ,
+That hath , beside , well in his person wrought
+To be set high in place , we did commend
+To your remembrances : but you have found ,
+Scaling his present bearing with his past ,
+That he's your fixed enemy , and revoke
+Your sudden approbation .
+
+Say you ne'er had done 't
+Harp on that still but by our putting on ;
+And presently , when you have drawn your number ,
+Repair to the Capitol .
+
+We will so ; almost all
+Repent in their election .
+
+
+Let them go on ;
+This mutiny were better put in hazard
+Than stay , past doubt , for greater .
+If , as his nature is , he fall in rage
+With their refusal , both observe and answer
+The vantage of his anger .
+
+To the Capitol , come :
+We will be there before the stream o' the people ;
+And this shall seem , as partly 'tis , their own ,
+Which we have goaded onward .
+
+Tullus Aufidius then had made new head ?
+
+He had , my lord ; and that it was which caus'd
+Our swifter composition .
+
+So then the Volsces stand but as at first ,
+Ready , when time shall prompt them , to make road
+Upon 's again .
+
+They are worn , lord consul , so ,
+That we shall hardly in our ages see
+Their banners wave again .
+
+Saw you Aufidius ?
+
+On safe-guard he came to me ; and did curse
+Against the Volsces , for they had so vilely
+Yielded the town : he is retir'd to Antium .
+
+Spoke he of me ?
+
+He did , my lord .
+
+How ? what ?
+
+How often he had met you , sword to sword ;
+That of all things upon the earth he hated
+Your person most , that he would pawn his fortunes
+To hopeless restitution , so he might
+Be call'd your vanquisher .
+
+At Antium lives he ?
+
+At Antium .
+
+I wish I had a cause to seek him there ,
+To oppose his hatred fully . Welcome home .
+
+
+Behold ! these are the tribunes of the people ,
+The tongues o' the common mouth : I do despise them ;
+For they do prank them in authority
+
+Against all noble sufferance .
+
+Pass no further .
+
+Ha ! what is that ?
+
+It will be dangerous to go on : no further .
+
+What makes this change ?
+
+The matter ?
+
+Hath he not pass'd the noble and the common ?
+
+Cominius , no .
+
+Have I had children's voices ?
+
+Tribunes , give way ; he shall to the market-place .
+
+The people are incens'd against him .
+
+Stop ,
+Or all will fall in broil .
+
+Are these your herd ?
+Must these have voices , that can yield them now ,
+And straight disclaim their tongues ? What are your offices ?
+You being their mouths , why rule you not their teeth ?
+Have you not set them on ?
+
+Be calm , be calm .
+
+It is a purpos'd thing , and grows by plot ,
+To curb the will of the nobility :
+Suffer't , and live with such as cannot rule
+Nor ever will be rul'd .
+
+Call't not a plot :
+The people cry you mock'd them , and of late ,
+When corn was given them gratis , you repin'd ;
+Scandall'd the suppliants for the people , call'd them
+Time-pleasers , flatterers , foes to nobleness .
+
+Why , this was known before .
+
+Not to them all .
+
+Have you inform'd them sithence ?
+
+How ! I inform them !
+
+You are like to do such business .
+
+Not unlike ,
+Each way , to better yours .
+
+Why then should I be consul ? By yond clouds ,
+Let me deserve so ill as you , and make me
+Your fellow tribune .
+
+You show too much of that
+For which the people stir ; if you will pass
+To where you are bound , you must inquire your way ,
+Which you are out of , with a gentler spirit ;
+Or never be so noble as a consul ,
+Nor yoke with him for tribune .
+
+Let's be calm .
+
+The people are abus'd ; set on . This paltering
+Becomes not Rome , nor has Coriolanus
+Deserv'd this so dishonour'd rub , laid falsely
+I' the plain way of his merit .
+
+Tell me of corn !
+This was my speech , and I will speak't again ,
+
+Not now , not now .
+
+Not in this heat , sir , now .
+
+Now , as I live , I will . My nobler friends ,
+I crave their pardons :
+For the mutable , rank-scented many , let them
+Regard me as I do not flatter , and
+Therein behold themselves : I say again ,
+In soothing them we nourish 'gainst our senate
+The cockle of rebellion , insolence , sedition ,
+Which we ourselves have plough'd for , sow'd and scatter'd ,
+By mingling them with us , the honour'd number ;
+Who lack'd not virtue , no , nor power , but that
+Which they have given to beggars .
+
+Well , no more .
+
+No more words , we beseech you .
+
+How ! no more !
+As for my country I have shed my blood ,
+Not fearing outward force , so shall my lungs
+Coin words till they decay against those measles ,
+Which we disdain should tetter us , yet sought
+The very way to catch them .
+
+You speak o' the people ,
+As if you were a god to punish , not
+A man of their infirmity .
+
+'Twere well
+We let the people know't .
+
+What , what ? his choler ?
+
+Choler !
+Were I as patient as the midnight sleep ,
+By Jove , 'twould be my mind !
+
+It is a mind
+That shall remain a poison where it is ,
+Not poison any further .
+
+Shall remain !
+Hear you this Triton of the minnows ? mark you
+His absolute 'shall ?'
+
+'Twas from the canon .
+
+'Shall !'
+O good but most unwise patricians ! why ,
+You grave but reckless senators , have you thus
+Given Hydra here to choose an officer ,
+That with his peremptory 'shall ,' being but
+The horn and noise o' the monster's , wants not spirit
+To say he'll turn your current in a ditch ,
+And make your channel his ? If he have power ,
+Then vail your ignorance ; if none , awake
+Your dangerous lenity . If you are learned ,
+Be not as common fools ; if you are not ,
+Let them have cushions by you . You are plebeians
+If they be senators ; and they are no less ,
+When , both your voices blended , the great'st taste
+Most palates theirs . They choose their magistrate ,
+And such a one as he , who puts his 'shall ,'
+His popular 'shall ,' against a graver bench
+Than ever frown'd in Greece . By Jove himself !
+It makes the consuls base ; and my soul aches
+To know , when two authorities are up ;
+Neither supreme , how soon confusion
+May enter 'twixt the gap of both and take
+The one by the other .
+
+Well , on to the market-place .
+
+Whoever gave that counsel , to give forth
+The corn o' the store-house gratis , as 'twas us'd
+Sometime in Greece ,
+
+Well , well ; no more of that .
+
+Though there the people had more absolute power ,
+I say , they nourish'd disobedience , fed
+The ruin of the state .
+
+Why , shall the people give
+One that speaks thus their voice ?
+
+I'll give my reasons ,
+More worthier than their voices . They know the corn
+Was not our recompense , resting well assur'd
+They ne'er did service for 't . Being press'd to the war ,
+Even when the navel of the state was touch'd ,
+They would not thread the gates : this kind of service
+Did not deserve corn gratis . Being i' the war ,
+Their mutinies and revolts , wherein they show'd
+Most valour , spoke not for them . The accusation
+Which they have often made against the senate ,
+All cause unborn , could never be the motive
+Of our so frank donation . Well , what then ?
+How shall this bisson multitude digest
+The senate's courtesy ? Let deeds express
+What's like to be their words : 'We did request it ;
+We are the greater poll , and in true fear
+They gave us our demands .' Thus we debase
+The nature of our seats , and make the rabble
+Call our cares , fears ; which will in time break ope
+The locks o' the senate , and bring in the crows
+To peck the eagles .
+
+Come , enough .
+
+Enough , with over-measure .
+
+No , take more :
+What may be sworn by , both divine and human ,
+Seal what I end withal ! This double worship ,
+Where one part does disdain with cause , the other
+Insult without all reason ; where gentry , title , wisdom ,
+Cannot conclude , but by the yea and no
+Of general ignorance ,it must omit
+Real necessities , and give way the while
+To unstable slightness : purpose so barr'd , it follows
+Nothing is done to purpose . Therefore , beseech you ,
+You that will be less fearful than discreet ,
+That love the fundamental part of state
+More than you doubt the change on 't , that prefer
+A noble life before a long , and wish
+To jump a body with a dangerous physic
+That's sure of death without it , at once pluck out
+The multitudinous tongue ; let them not lick
+The sweet which is their poison . Your dishonour
+Mangles true judgment , and bereaves the state
+Of that integrity which should become it ,
+Not having the power to do the good it would ,
+For the ill which doth control 't .
+
+He has said enough .
+
+He has spoken like a traitor , and shall answer
+As traitors do .
+
+Thou wretch ! despite o'erwhelm thee !
+What should the people do with these bald tribunes ?
+On whom depending , their obedience fails
+To the greater bench . In a rebellion ,
+When what's not meet , but what must be , was law ,
+Then were they chosen : in a better hour ,
+Let what is meet be said it must be meet ,
+And throw their power i' the dust .
+
+Manifest treason !
+
+This a consul ? no .
+
+The diles , ho ! Let him be apprehended .
+
+
+Go , call the people ;
+
+in whose name , myself
+Attach thee as a traitorous innovator ,
+A foe to the public weal : obey , I charge thee ,
+And follow to thine answer .
+
+Hence , old goat !
+
+We'll surety him .
+
+Aged sir , hands off .
+
+Hence , rotten thing ! or I shall shake thy bones
+Out of thy garments .
+
+Help , ye citizens !
+
+
+On both sides more respect .
+
+Here's he that would take from you all your power .
+
+Seize him , diles !
+
+Down with him !down with him !
+
+Weapons !weapons !weapons !
+
+What is about to be ?I am out of breath ;
+Confusion's near ; I cannot speak . You , tribunes
+To the people ! Coriolanus , patience !
+Speak , good Sicinius .
+
+Hear me , people ; peace !
+
+Let's hear our tribune :Peace !Speak , speak , speak .
+
+You are at point to lose your liberties :
+Marcius would have all from you ; Marcius ,
+Whom late you have nam'd for consul .
+
+Fie , fie , fie !
+This is the way to kindle , not to quench .
+
+To unbuild the city and to lay all flat .
+
+What is the city but the people ?
+
+True ,
+The people are the city .
+
+By the consent of all , we were establish'd
+The people's magistrates .
+
+You so remain .
+
+And so are like to do .
+
+That is the way to lay the city flat ;
+To bring the roof to the foundation ,
+And bury all , which yet distinctly ranges ,
+In heaps and piles of ruin .
+
+This deserves death .
+
+Or let us stand to our authority ,
+Or let us lose it . We do here pronounce ,
+Upon the part o' the people , in whose power
+We were elected theirs , Marcius is worthy
+Of present death .
+
+Therefore lay hold of him ;
+Bear him to the rock Tarpeian , and from thence
+Into destruction cast him .
+
+diles , seize him !
+
+Yield , Marcius , yield !
+
+Hear me one word ;
+Beseech you , tribunes , hear me but a word .
+
+Peace , peace !
+
+Be that you seem , truly your country's friends ,
+And temperately proceed to what you would
+Thus violently redress .
+
+Sir , those cold ways ,
+That seem like prudent helps , are very poisonous
+Where the disease is violent . Lay hands upon him ,
+And bear him to the rock .
+
+No , I'll die here .
+
+There's some among you have beheld me fighting :
+Come , try upon yourselves what you have seen me .
+
+Down with that sword ! Tribunes , withdraw awhile .
+
+Lay hands upon him .
+
+Help Marcius , help ,
+You that be noble ; help him , young and old !
+
+Down with him !down with him !
+
+
+Go , get you to your house ; be gone , away !
+All will be naught else .
+
+Get you gone .
+
+Stand fast ;
+We have as many friends as enemies .
+
+Shall it be put to that ?
+
+The gods forbid !
+I prithee , noble friend , home to thy house ;
+Leave us to cure this cause .
+
+For 'tis a sore upon us ,
+You cannot tent yourself : be gone , beseech you .
+
+Come , sir , along with us .
+
+I would they were barbarians ,as they are ,
+Though in Rome litter'd ,not Romans ,as they are not ,
+Though calv'd i' the porch o' the Capitol ,
+
+Be gone ;
+Put not your worthy rage into your tongue ;
+One time will owe another .
+
+On fair ground
+I could beat forty of them .
+
+I could myself
+Take up a brace o' the best of them ; yea , the two tribunes .
+
+But now 'tis odds beyond arithmetic ;
+And manhood is call'd foolery when it stands
+Against a falling fabric . Will you hence ,
+Before the tag return ? whose rage doth rend
+Like interrupted waters and o'erbear
+What they are us'd to bear .
+
+Pray you , be gone .
+I'll try whether my old wit be in request
+With those that have but little : this must be patch'd
+With cloth of any colour .
+
+Nay , come away .
+
+
+This man has marr'd his fortune .
+
+His nature is too noble for the world :
+He would not flatter Neptune for his trident ,
+Or Jove for 's power to thunder . His heart's his mouth :
+What his breast forges , that his tongue must vent ;
+And , being angry , does forget that ever
+He heard the name of death .
+
+Here's goodly work !
+
+I would they were a-bed !
+
+I would they were in Tiber ! What the vengeance !
+Could he not speak 'em fair ?
+
+
+Where is this viper
+That would depopulate the city and
+Be every man himself ?
+
+You worthy tribunes ,
+
+He shall be thrown down the Tarpeian rock
+With rigorous hands : he hath resisted law ,
+And therefore law shall scorn him further trial
+Than the severity of the public power ,
+Which he so sets at nought .
+
+He shall well know
+The noble tribunes are the people's mouths ,
+And we their hands .
+
+He shall , sure on't .
+
+Sir , sir ,
+
+Peace !
+
+Do not cry havoc , where you should but hunt
+With modest warrant .
+
+Sir , how comes 't that you
+Have holp to make this rescue ?
+
+Hear me speak :
+As I do know the consul's worthiness ,
+So can I name his faults .
+
+Consul ! what consul ?
+
+The Consul Coriolanus .
+
+He consul !
+
+No , no , no , no , no .
+
+If , by the tribunes' leave , and yours , good people ,
+I may be heard , I would crave a word or two ,
+The which shall turn you to no further harm
+Than so much loss of time .
+
+Speak briefly then ;
+For we are peremptory to dispatch
+This viperous traitor . To eject him hence
+Were but one danger , and to keep him here
+Our certain death ; therefore it is decreed
+He dies to-night .
+
+Now the good gods forbid
+That our renowned Rome , whose gratitude
+Towards her deserved children is enroll'd
+In Jove's own book , like an unnatural dam
+Should now eat up her own !
+
+He's a disease that must be cut away .
+
+O ! he's a limb that has but a disease ;
+Mortal to cut it off ; to cure it easy .
+What has he done to Rome that's worthy death ?
+Killing our enemies , the blood he hath lost ,
+Which , I dare vouch , is more than that he hath
+By many an ounce ,he dropp'd it for his country ;
+And what is left , to lose it by his country ,
+Were to us all , that do't and suffer it ,
+A brand to th' end o' the world .
+
+This is clean kam .
+
+Merely awry : when he did love his country
+It honour'd him .
+
+The service of the foot
+Being once gangren'd , is not then respected
+For what before it was .
+
+We'll hear no more .
+Pursue him to his house , and pluck him thence ,
+Lest his infection , being of catching nature ,
+Spread further .
+
+One word more , one word .
+This tiger-footed rage , when it shall find
+The harm of unscann'd swiftness , will , too late ,
+Tie leaden pounds to's heels . Proceed by process ;
+Lest parties as he is belov'd break out ,
+And sack great Rome with Romans .
+
+If 'twere so ,
+
+What do ye talk ?
+Have we not had a taste of his obedience ?
+Our diles smote ? ourselves resisted ? Come !
+
+Consider this : he has been bred i' the wars
+Since he could draw a sword , and is ill school'd
+In bolted language ; meal and bran together
+He throws without distinction . Give me leave ,
+I'll go to him , and undertake to bring him
+Where he shall answer by a lawful form ,
+In peace ,to his utmost peril .
+
+Noble tribunes ,
+It is the humane way : the other course
+Will prove too bloody , and the end of it
+Unknown to the beginning .
+
+Noble Menenius ,
+Be you then as the people's officer .
+Masters , lay down your weapons .
+
+Go not home .
+
+Meet on the market-place . We'll attend you there :
+Where , if you bring not Marcius , we'll proceed
+In our first way .
+
+I'll bring him to you .
+
+
+Let me desire your company . He must come ,
+Or what is worst will follow .
+
+Pray you , let's to him .
+
+
+Let them pull all about mine ears ; present me
+Death on the wheel , or at wild horses' heels ;
+Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock ,
+That the precipitation might down stretch
+Below the beam of sight ; yet will I still
+Be thus to them .
+
+You do the nobler .
+
+I muse my mother
+Does not approve me further , who was wont
+To call them woollen vassals , things created
+To buy and sell with groats , to show bare heads
+In congregations , to yawn , be still , and wonder ,
+When one but of my ordinance stood up
+To speak of peace or war .
+
+
+I talk of you :
+Why did you wish me milder ? Would you have me
+False to my nature ? Rather say I play
+
+The man I am .
+
+O ! sir , sir , sir ,
+I would have had you put your power well on
+Before you had worn it out .
+
+Let go .
+
+You might have been enough the man you are
+With striving less to be so : lesser had been
+The thwarting of your dispositions if
+You had not show'd them how you were dispos'd ,
+Ere they lack'd power to cross you .
+
+Let them hang .
+
+Ay , and burn too .
+
+
+Come , come ; you have been too rough , something too rough ;
+You must return and mend it .
+
+There's no remedy ;
+Unless , by not so doing , our good city
+Cleave in the midst , and perish .
+
+Pray be counsell'd .
+I have a heart of mettle apt as yours ,
+But yet a brain that leads my use of anger
+To better vantage .
+
+Well said , noble woman !
+Before he should thus stoop to the herd , but that
+The violent fit o' the time craves it as physic
+For the whole state , I would put mine armour on ,
+Which I can scarcely bear .
+
+What must I do ?
+
+Return to the tribunes .
+
+Well , what then ? what then ?
+
+Repent what you have spoke .
+
+For them ! I cannot do it to the gods ;
+Must I then do't to them ?
+
+You are too absolute ;
+Though therein you can never be too noble ,
+But when extremities speak . I have heard you say ,
+Honour and policy , like unsever'd friends ,
+I' the war do grow together : grant that , and tell me ,
+In peace what each of them by th' other lose ,
+That they combine not there .
+
+Tush , tush !
+
+A good demand .
+
+If it be honour in your wars to seem
+The same you are not ,which , for your best ends ,
+You adopt your policy ,how is it less or worse ,
+That it shall hold companionship in peace
+With honour , as in war , since that to both
+It stands in like request ?
+
+Why force you this ?
+
+Because that now it lies you on to speak
+To the people ; not by your own instruction ,
+Nor by the matter which your heart prompts you ,
+But with such words that are but rooted in
+Your tongue , though but bastards and syllables
+Of no allowance to your bosom's truth .
+Now , this no more dishonours you at all
+Than to take in a town with gentle words ,
+Which else would put you to your fortune and
+The hazard of much blood .
+I would dissemble with my nature where
+My fortunes and my friends at stake requir'd
+I should do so in honour : I am in this ,
+Your wife , your son , these senators , the nobles ;
+And you will rather show our general louts
+How you can frown than spend a fawn upon 'em ,
+For the inheritance of their loves and safeguard
+Of what that want might ruin .
+
+Noble lady !
+Come , go with us ; speak fair ; you may salve so ,
+Not what is dangerous present , but the loss
+Of what is past .
+
+I prithee now , my son ,
+Go to them , with this bonnet in thy hand ;
+And thus far having stretch'd it ,here be with them ,
+Thy knee bussing the stones ,for in such business
+Action is eloquence , and the eyes of the ignorant
+More learned than the ears ,waving thy head ,
+Which often , thus , correcting thy stout heart ,
+Now humble as the ripest mulberry
+That will not hold the handling : or say to them ,
+Thou art their soldier , and being bred in broils
+Hast not the soft way which , thou dost confess ,
+Were fit for thee to use as they to claim ,
+In asking their good loves ; but thou wilt frame
+Thyself , forsooth , hereafter theirs , so far
+As thou hast power and person .
+
+This but done ,
+Even as she speaks , why , their hearts were yours ;
+For they have pardons , being ask'd , as free
+As words to little purpose .
+
+Prithee now ,
+Go , and be rul'd ; although I know thou hadst rather
+Follow thine enemy in a fiery gulf
+Than flatter him in a bower . Here is Cominius .
+
+
+I have been i' the market-place ; and , sir , 'tis fit
+You make strong party , or defend yourself
+By calmness or by absence : all's in anger .
+
+Only fair speech .
+
+I think 'twill serve if he
+Can thereto frame his spirit .
+
+He must , and will .
+Prithee now , say you will , and go about it .
+
+Must I go show them my unbarbed sconce ?
+Must I with my base tongue give to my noble heart
+A lie that it must bear ? Well , I will do't :
+Yet , were there but this single plot to lose ,
+This mould of Marcius , they to dust should grind it ,
+And throw 't against the wind . To the market-place !
+You have put me now to such a part which never
+I shall discharge to the life .
+
+Come , come , we'll prompt you .
+
+I prithee now , sweet son , as thou hast said
+My praises made thee first a soldier , so ,
+To have my praise for this , perform a part
+Thou hast not done before .
+
+Well , I must do 't :
+Away , my disposition , and possess me
+Some harlot's spirit ! My throat of war be turn'd ,
+Which quired with my drum , into a pipe
+Small as a eunuch , or the virgin voice
+That babies lulls asleep ! The smiles of knaves
+Tent in my cheeks , and school-boys' tears take up
+The glasses of my sight ! A beggar's tongue
+Make motion through my lips , and my arm'd knees ,
+Who bow'd but in my stirrup , bend like his
+That hath receiv'd an alms ! I will not do 't ,
+Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth ,
+And by my body's action teach my mind
+A most inherent baseness .
+
+At thy choice then :
+To beg of thee it is my more dishonour
+Than thou of them . Come all to ruin ; let
+Thy mother rather feel thy pride than fear
+Thy dangerous stoutness , for I mock at death
+With as big heart as thou . Do as thou list ,
+Thy valiantness was mine , thou suck'dst it from me ,
+But owe thy pride thyself .
+
+Pray , be content :
+Mother , I am going to the market-place ;
+Chide me no more . I'll mountebank their loves ,
+Cog their hearts from them , and come home belov'd
+Of all the trades in Rome . Look , I am going :
+Commend me to my wife . I'll return consul ,
+Or never trust to what my tongue can do
+I' the way of flattery further .
+
+Do your will .
+
+
+Away ! the tribunes do attend you : arm yourself
+To answer mildly ; for they are prepar'd
+With accusations , as I hear , more strong
+Than are upon you yet .
+
+The word is 'mildly .'
+
+Pray you , let us go :
+Let them accuse me by invention , I
+Will answer in mine honour .
+
+Ay , but mildly .
+
+Well , mildly be it then . Mildly !
+
+
+In this point charge him home , that he affects
+Tyrannical power : if he evade us there ,
+Enforce him with his envy to the people ,
+And that the spoil got on the Antiates
+Was ne'er distributed .
+
+What , will he come ?
+
+He's coming .
+
+How accompanied ?
+
+With old Menenius , and those senators
+That always favour'd him .
+
+Have you a catalogue
+Of all the voices that we have procur'd ,
+Set down by the poll ?
+
+I have ; 'tis ready .
+
+Have you collected them by tribes ?
+
+I have .
+
+Assemble presently the people hither ;
+And when they hear me say , 'It shall be so ,
+I' the right and strength o' the commons ,' be it either
+For death , for fine , or banishment , then let them ,
+If I say , fine , cry 'fine ,' if death , cry 'death ,'
+Insisting on the old prerogative
+And power i' the truth o' the cause .
+
+I shall inform them .
+
+And when such time they have begun to cry ,
+Let them not cease , but with a din confus'd
+Enforce the present execution
+Of what we chance to sentence .
+
+Very well .
+
+Make them be strong and ready for this hint ,
+When we shall hap to give 't them .
+
+Go about it .
+
+Put him to choler straight . He hath been us'd
+Ever to conquer , and to have his worth
+Of contradiction : being once chaf'd , he cannot
+Be rein'd again to temperance ; then he speaks
+What's in his heart ; and that is there which looks
+With us to break his neck .
+
+Well , here he comes .
+
+
+Calmly , I do beseech you .
+
+Ay , as an ostler , that for the poorest piece
+Will bear the knave by the volume . The honour'd gods
+Keep Rome in safety , and the chairs of justice
+Supplied with worthy men ! plant love among us !
+Throng our large temples with the shows of peace ,
+And not our streets with war !
+
+Amen , amen .
+
+A noble wish .
+
+
+Draw near , ye people .
+
+List to your tribunes ; audience ; peace ! I say .
+
+First , hear me speak .
+
+Well , say . Peace , ho !
+
+Shall I be charg'd no further than this present ?
+Must all determine here ?
+
+I do demand ,
+If you submit you to the people's voices ,
+Allow their officers , and are content
+To suffer lawful censure for such faults
+As shall be prov'd upon you ?
+
+I am content .
+
+Lo ! citizens , he says he is content :
+The war-like service he has done , consider ; think
+Upon the wounds his body bears , which show
+Like graves i' the holy churchyard .
+
+Scratches with briers ,
+Scars to move laughter only .
+
+Consider further ,
+That when he speaks not like a citizen ,
+You find him like a soldier : do not take
+His rougher accents for malicious sounds ,
+But , as I say , such as become a soldier ,
+Rather than envy you .
+
+Well , well ; no more .
+
+What is the matter ,
+That being pass'd for consul with full voice
+I am so dishonour'd that the very hour
+You take it off again ?
+
+Answer to us .
+
+Say , then : 'tis true , I ought so .
+
+We charge you , that you have contriv'd to take
+From Rome all season'd office , and to wind
+Yourself into a power tyrannical ;
+For which you are a traitor to the people .
+
+How ! Traitor !
+
+Nay , temperately ; your promise .
+
+The fires i' the lowest hell fold-in the people !
+Call me their traitor ! Thou injurious tribune !
+Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths ,
+In thy hands clutch'd as many millions , in
+Thy lying tongue both numbers , I would say
+'Thou liest' unto thee with a voice as free
+As I do pray the gods .
+
+Mark you this , people !
+
+To the rock !to the rock with him !
+
+Peace !
+We need not put new matter to his charge :
+What you have seen him do , and heard him speak ,
+Beating your officers , cursing yourselves ,
+Opposing laws with strokes , and here defying
+Those whose great power must try him ; even this ,
+So criminal and in such capital kind ,
+Deserves the extremest death .
+
+But since he hath
+Serv'd well for Rome ,
+
+What do you prate of service ?
+
+I talk of that , that know it .
+
+You !
+
+Is this the promise that you made your mother ?
+
+Know , I pray you ,
+
+I'll know no further :
+Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death ,
+Vagabond exile , flaying , pent to linger
+But with a grain a day , I would not buy
+Their mercy at the price of one fair word ,
+Nor check my courage for what they can give ,
+To have 't with saying 'Good morrow .'
+
+For that he has ,
+As much as in him lies ,from time to time
+Envied against the people , seeking means
+To pluck away their power , as now at last
+Given hostile strokes , and that not in the presence
+Of dreaded justice , but on the ministers
+That do distribute it ; in the name o' the people ,
+And in the power of us the tribunes , we ,
+Even from this instant , banish him our city ,
+In peril of precipitation
+From off the rock Tarpeian , never more
+To enter our Rome gates : i' the people's name ,
+I say , it shall be so .
+
+It shall be so ,It shall be so ,Let him away .
+He's banish'd , and it shall be so .
+
+Hear me , my masters , and my common friends ,
+
+He's sentenc'd ; no more hearing .
+
+Let me speak :
+I have been consul , and can show for Rome
+Her enemies' marks upon me . I do love
+My country's good with a respect more tender ,
+More holy , and profound , than mine own life ,
+My dear wife's estimate , her womb's increase ,
+And treasure of my loins ; then if I would
+Speak that
+
+We know your drift : speak what ?
+
+There's no more to be said , but he is banish'd ,
+As enemy to the people and his country :
+It shall be so .
+
+It shall be so ,it shall be so .
+
+You common cry of curs ! whose breath I hate
+As reek o' the rotten fens , whose loves I prize
+As the dead carcases of unburied men
+That do corrupt my air , I banish you ;
+And here remain with your uncertainty !
+Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts !
+Your enemies , with nodding of their plumes ,
+Fan you into despair ! Have the power still
+To banish your defenders ; till at length
+Your ignorance ,which finds not , till it feels ,
+Making but reservation of yourselves ,
+Still your own foes ,deliver you as most
+Abated captives to some nation
+That won you without blows ! Despising ,
+For you , the city , thus I turn my back :
+There is a world elsewhere .
+
+
+The people's enemy is gone , is gone !
+
+Our enemy is banish'd !he is gone !Hoo ! hoo !
+
+
+Go , see him out at gates , and follow him ,
+As he hath follow'd you , with all despite ;
+Give him deserv'd vexation . Let a guard
+Attend us through the city .
+
+Come , come ,let us see him out at gates ! come !
+The gods preserve our noble tribunes ! Come !
+
+Come , leave your tears : a brief farewell : the beast
+With many heads butts me away . Nay , mother ,
+Where is your ancient courage ? you were us'd ,
+To say extremity was the trier of spirits ;
+That common chances common men could bear ;
+That when the sea was calm all boats alike
+Show'd mastership in floating ; fortune's blows ,
+When most struck home , being gentle wounded , craves
+A noble cunning : you were us'd to load me
+With precepts that would make invincible
+The heart that conn'd them .
+
+O heavens ! O heavens !
+
+Nay , I prithee , woman ,
+
+Now the red pestilence strike all trades in Rome ,
+And occupations perish !
+
+What , what , what !
+I shall be lov'd when I am lack'd . Nay , mother ,
+Resume that spirit , when you were wont to say ,
+If you had been the wife of Hercules ,
+Six of his labours you'd have done , and sav'd
+Your husband so much sweat . Cominius ,
+Droop not ; adieu . Farewell , my wife ! my mother !
+I'll do well yet . Thou old and true Menenius ,
+Thy tears are salter than a younger man's .
+And venomous to thine eyes . My sometime general ,
+I have seen thee stern , and thou hast oft beheld
+Heart-hardening spectacles ; tell these sad women
+'Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes
+As 'tis to laugh at them . My mother , you wot well
+My hazards still have been your solace ; and
+Believe 't not lightly ,though I go alone
+Like to a lonely dragon , that his fen
+Makes fear'd and talk'd of more than seen ,your son
+Will or exceed the common or be caught
+With cautelous baits and practice .
+
+My first son ,
+Whither wilt thou go ? Take good Cominius
+With thee awhile : determine on some course ,
+More than a wild exposture to each chance
+That starts i' the way before thee .
+
+O the gods !
+
+I'll follow thee a month , devise with thee
+Where thou shalt rest , that thou mayst hear of us ,
+And we of thee : so , if the time thrust forth
+A cause for thy repeal , we shall not send
+O'er the vast world to seek a single man ,
+And lose advantage , which doth ever cool
+I' the absence of the needer .
+
+Fare ye well :
+Thou hast years upon thee ; and thou art too full
+Of the wars' surfeits , to go rove with one
+That's yet unbruis'd : bring me but out at gate .
+Come , my sweet wife , my dearest mother , and
+My friends of noble touch , when I am forth ,
+Bid me farewell , and smile . I pray you , come .
+While I remain above the ground you shall
+Hear from me still ; and never of me aught
+But what is like me formerly .
+
+That's worthily
+As any ear can hear . Come , let's not weep .
+If I could shake off but one seven years
+From these old arms and legs , by the good gods ,
+I'd with thee every foot .
+
+Give me thy hand :
+Come .
+
+
+Bid them all home ; he's gone , and we'll no further .
+The nobility are vex'd , whom we see have sided
+In his behalf .
+
+Now we have shown our power ,
+Let us seem humbler after it is done
+Than when it was a-doing .
+
+Bid them home ;
+Say their great enemy is gone , and they
+Stand in their ancient strength .
+
+Dismiss them home .
+
+
+Here comes his mother .
+
+Let's not meet her .
+
+Why ?
+
+They say she's mad .
+
+They have ta'en note of us : keep on your way .
+
+O ! you're well met . The hoarded plague o' the gods
+Requite your love !
+
+Peace , peace ! be not so loud .
+
+If that I could for weeping , you should hear ,
+Nay , and you shall hear some .
+
+Will you be gone ?
+
+You shall stay too . I would I had the power
+To say so to my husband .
+
+Are you mankind ?
+
+Ay , fool ; is that a shame ? Note but this fool .
+Was not a man my father ? Hadst thou foxship
+To banish him that struck more blows for Rome
+Than thou hast spoken words ?
+
+O blessed heavens !
+
+More noble blows than ever thou wise words ;
+And for Rome's good . I'll tell thee what ; yet go :
+Nay , but thou shalt stay too : I would my son
+Were in Arabia , and thy tribe before him ,
+His good sword in his hand .
+
+What then ?
+
+What then !
+He'd make an end of thy posterity .
+
+Bastards and all .
+Good man , the wounds that he does bear for Rome !
+
+Come , come : peace !
+
+I would he had continu'd to his country
+As he began , and not unknit himself
+The noble knot he made .
+
+I would he had .
+
+'I would he had !' 'Twas you incens'd the rabble :
+Cats , that can judge as fitly of his worth
+As I can of those mysteries which heaven
+Will not have earth to know .
+
+Pray , let us go .
+
+Now , pray , sir , get you gone :
+You have done a brave deed . Ere you go , hear this :
+As far as doth the Capitol exceed
+The meanest house in Rome , so far my son ,
+This lady's husband here , this , do you see ,
+Whom you have banish'd , does exceed you all .
+
+Well , well , we'll leave you .
+
+Why stay we to be baited
+With one that wants her wits ?
+
+Take my prayers with you .
+
+I would the gods had nothing else to do
+But to confirm my curses ! Could I meet 'em
+But once a day , it would unclog my heart
+Of what lies heavy to 't .
+
+You have told them home ,
+And , by my troth , you have cause . You'll sup with me ?
+
+Anger's my meat ; I sup upon myself ,
+And so shall starve with feeding . Come , let's go .
+Leave this faint puling and lament as I do ,
+In anger , Juno-like . Come , come , come .
+
+Fie , fie , fie !
+
+
+I know you well , sir , and you know me : your name I think is Adrian .
+
+It is so , sir : truly , I have forget you .
+
+I am a Roman ; and my services are , as you are , against 'em : know you me yet ?
+
+Nicanor ? No .
+
+The same , sir .
+
+You had more beard , when I last saw you ; but your favour is well approved by your tongue . What's the news in Rome ? I have a note from the Volscian state to find you out there : you have well saved me a day's journey .
+
+There hath been in Rome strange insurrections : the people against the senators , patricians , and nobles .
+
+Hath been ! Is it ended then ? Our state thinks not-so ; they are in a most war-like preparation , and hope to come upon them in the heat of their division .
+
+The main blaze of it is past , but a small thing would make it flame again . For the nobles receive so to heart the banishment of that worthy Coriolanus , that they are in a ripe aptness to take all power from the people and to pluck from them their tribunes for ever . This lies glowing , I can tell you , and is almost mature for the violent breaking out .
+
+Coriolanus banished !
+
+Banished , sir .
+
+You will be welcome with this intelligence , Nicanor .
+
+The day serves well for them now . I have heard it said , the fittest time to corrupt a man's wife is when she's fallen out with her husband . Your noble Tullus Aufidius will appear well in these wars , his great opposer , Coriolanus , being now in no request of his country .
+
+He cannot choose . I am most fortunate , thus accidentally to encounter you : you have ended my business , and I will merrily accompany you home .
+
+I shall , between this and supper , tell you most strange things from Rome ; all tending to the good of their adversaries . Have you an army ready , say you ?
+
+A most royal one : the centurions and their charges distinctly billeted , already in the entertainment , and to be on foot at an hour's warning .
+
+I am joyful to hear of their readiness , and am the man , I think , that shall set them in present action . So , sir , heartily well met , and most glad of your company .
+
+You take my part from me , sir ; I have the most cause to be glad of yours .
+
+Well , let us go together .
+
+
+A goodly city is this Antium . City ,
+'Tis I that made thy widows : many an heir
+Of these fair edifices 'fore my wars
+Have I heard groan and drop : then , know me not ,
+Lest that thy wives with spits and boys with stones
+In puny battle slay me .
+
+Save you , sir .
+
+And you .
+
+Direct me , if it be your will ,
+Where great Aufidius lies . Is he in Antium ?
+
+He is , and feasts the nobles of the state
+At his house this night .
+
+Which is his house , beseech you ?
+
+This , here before you .
+
+Thank you , sir . Farewell .
+
+O world ! thy slippery turns . Friends now fast sworn ,
+Whose double bosoms seem to wear one heart ,
+Whose hours , whose bed , whose meal , and exercise ,
+Are still together , who twin , as 'twere , in love
+Unseparable , shall within this hour ,
+On a dissension of a doit , break out
+To bitterest enmity : so , fellest foes ,
+Whose passions and whose plots have broke their sleep
+To take the one the other , by some chance ,
+Some trick not worth an egg , shall grow dear friends
+And interjoin their issues . So with me :
+My birth-place hate I , and my love's upon
+This enemy town . I'll enter : if he slay me ,
+He does fair justice ; if he give me way ,
+I'll do his country service .
+
+
+Wine , wine , wine ! What service is here ! I think our fellows are asleep .
+
+Where's Cotus ? my master calls for him . Cotus !
+
+A goodly house : the feast smells well ; but I
+Appear not like a guest .
+
+
+What would you have , friend ? Whence are you ? Here's no place for you : pray , go to the door .
+
+
+I have deserv'd no better entertainment ,
+In being Coriolanus .
+
+
+Whence are you , sir ? Has the porter his eyes in his head , that he gives entrance to such companions ? Pray , get you out .
+
+Away !
+
+'Away !' Get you away .
+
+Now , thou art troublesome .
+
+Are you so brave ? I'll have you talked with anon .
+
+
+What fellow's this ?
+
+A strange one as ever I looked on :
+I cannot get him out o' the house : prithee , call my master to him .
+
+What have you to do here , fellow ? Pray you , avoid the house .
+
+Let me but stand ; I will not hurt your hearth .
+
+What are you ?
+
+A gentleman .
+
+A marvellous poor one .
+
+True , so I am .
+
+Pray you , poor gentleman , take up some other station ; here's no place for you ; pray you , avoid : come .
+
+Follow your function ; go , and batten on cold bits .
+
+
+What , you will not ? Prithee , tell my master what a strange guest he has here .
+
+And I shall .
+
+
+Where dwell'st thou ?
+
+Under the canopy .
+
+'Under the canopy !'
+
+Ay .
+
+Where's that ?
+
+I' the city of kites and crows .
+
+'I' the city of kites and crows !' What an ass it is ! Then thou dwell'st with daws too ?
+
+No ; I serve not thy master .
+
+How sir ! Do you meddle with my master ?
+
+Ay ; 'tis an honester service than to meddle with thy mistress .
+Thou prat'st , and prat'st : serve with thy trencher . Hence .
+
+Where is this fellow ?
+
+Here , sir : I'd have beaten him like a dog , but for disturbing the lords within .
+
+Whence com'st thou ? what wouldst thou ? Thy name ?
+Why speak'st not ? Speak , man : what's thy name ?
+
+If , Tullus ,
+Not yet thou know'st me , and , seeing me , dost not
+Think me for the man I am , necessity
+Commands me name myself .
+
+What is thy name ?
+
+
+A name unmusical to the Volscians' ears ,
+And harsh in sound to thine .
+
+Say , what's thy name ?
+Thou hast a grim appearance , and thy face
+Bears a command in 't ; though thy tackle's torn ,
+Thou show'st a noble vessel . What's thy name ?
+
+Prepare thy brow to frown . Know'st thou me yet ?
+
+I know thee not . Thy name ?
+
+My name is Caius Marcius , who hath done
+To thee particularly , and to all the Volsces ,
+Great hurt and mischief ; thereto witness may
+My surname , Coriolanus : the painful service ,
+The extreme dangers , and the drops of blood
+Shed for my thankless country , are requited
+But with that surname ; a good memory ,
+And witness of the malice and displeasure
+Which thou shouldst bear me : only that name remains ;
+The cruelty and envy of the people ,
+Permitted by our dastard nobles , who
+Have all forsook me , hath devour'd the rest ;
+And suffer'd me by the voice of slaves to be
+Whoop'd out of Rome . Now this extremity
+Hath brought me to thy hearth ; not out of hope ,
+Mistake me not , to save my life ; for if
+I had fear'd death , of all the men i' the world
+I would have 'voided thee ; but in mere spite ,
+To be full quit of those my banishers ,
+Stand I before thee here . Then if thou hast
+A heart of wreak in thee , that will revenge
+Thine own particular wrongs and stop those maims
+Of shame seen through thy country , speed thee straight ,
+And make my misery serve thy turn : so use it ,
+That my revengeful services may prove
+As benefits to thee , for I will fight
+Against my canker'd country with the spleen
+Of all the under fiends . But if so be
+Thou dar'st not this , and that to prove more fortunes
+Thou art tir'd , then , in a word , I also am
+Longer to live most weary , and present
+My throat to thee and to thy ancient malice ;
+Which not to cut would show thee but a fool ,
+Since I have ever follow'd thee with hate ,
+Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country's breast ,
+And cannot live but to thy shame , unless
+It be to do thee service .
+
+O Marcius , Marcius !
+Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from my heart
+A root of ancient envy . If Jupiter
+Should from yond cloud speak divine things ,
+And say , ''Tis true ,' I'd not believe them more
+Than thee , all noble Marcius . Let me twine
+Mine arms about that body , where against
+My grained ash a hundred times hath broke ,
+And scarr'd the moon with splinters : here I clip
+The anvil of my sword , and do contest
+As hotly and as nobly with thy love
+As ever in ambitious strength I did
+Contend against thy valour . Know thou first ,
+I lov'd the maid I married ; never man
+Sigh'd truer breath ; but that I see thee here ,
+Thou noble thing ! more dances my rapt heart
+Than when I first my wedded mistress saw
+Bestride my threshold . Why , thou Mars ! I tell thee ,
+We have a power on foot ; and I had purpose
+Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn ,
+Or lose mine arm for 't . Thou hast beat me out
+Twelve several times , and I have nightly since
+Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me ;
+We have been down together in my sleep ,
+Unbuckling helms , fisting each other's throat ,
+And wak'd half dead with nothing . Worthy Marcius ,
+Had we no quarrel else to Rome , but that
+Thou art thence banish'd , we would muster all
+From twelve to seventy , and , pouring war
+Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome ,
+Like a bold flood o'er-bear . O ! come ; go in ,
+And take our friendly senators by the hands ,
+Who now are here , taking their leaves of me ,
+Who am prepar'd against your territories ,
+Though not for Rome itself .
+
+You bless me , gods !
+
+Therefore , most absolute sir , if thou wilt have
+The leading of thine own revenges , take
+The one half of my commission , and set down ,
+As best thou art experienc'd , since thou know'st
+Thy country's strength and weakness , thine own ways ;
+Whether to knock against the gates of Rome ,
+Or rudely visit them in parts remote ,
+To fright them , ere destroy . But come in :
+Let me commend thee first to those that shall
+Say yea to thy desires . A thousand welcomes !
+And more a friend than e'er an enemy ;
+Yet , Marcius , that was much . Your hand : most welcome !
+
+
+Here's a strange alteration !
+
+By my hand , I had thought to have strucken him with a cudgel ; and yet my mind gave me his clothes made a false report of him .
+
+What an arm he has ! He turned me about with his finger and his thumb , as one would set up a top .
+
+Nay , I knew by his face that there was something in him : he had , sir , a kind of face , methought ,I cannot tell how to term it .
+
+He had so ; looking as it were , would I were hanged but I thought there was more in him than I could think .
+
+So did I , I'll be sworn : he is simply the rarest man i' the world .
+
+I think he is ; but a greater soldier than he you wot on .
+
+Who ? my master ?
+
+Nay , it's no matter for that .
+
+Worth six on him .
+
+Nay , not so neither ; but I take him to be the greater soldier .
+
+Faith , look you , one cannot tell how to say that : for the defence of a town our general is excellent .
+
+Ay , and for an assault too .
+
+
+O slaves ! I can tell you news ; news , you rascals .
+
+What , what , what ? let's partake .
+
+What , what , what ? let's partake .
+
+I would not be a Roman , of all nations ; I had as lief be a condemned man .
+
+Wherefore ? wherefore ?
+
+Wherefore ? wherefore ?
+
+Why , here's he that was wont to thwack our general , Caius Marcius .
+
+Why do you say 'thwack our general ?'
+
+I do not say , 'thwack our general ;' but he was always good enough for him .
+
+Come , we are fellows and friends : he was ever too hard for him ; I have heard him say so himself .
+
+He was too hard for him ,directly to say the truth on 't : before Corioli he scotched him and notched him like a carbonado .
+
+An he had been cannibally given , he might have broiled and eaten him too .
+
+But , more of thy news .
+
+Why , he is so made on here within , as if he were son and heir to Mars ; set at upper end o' the table ; no question asked him by any of the senators , but they stand bald before him . Our general himself makes a mistress of him ; sanctifies himself with 's hand , and turns up the white o' the eye to his discourse . But the bottom of the news is , our general is out i' the middle , and but one half of what he was yesterday , for the other has half , by the entreaty and grant of the whole table . He'll go , he says , and sowle the porter of Rome gates by the ears : he will mow down all before him , and leave his passage polled .
+
+And he's as like to do 't as any man I can imagine .
+
+Do 't ! he will do 't for look you , sir he has as many friends as enemies ; which friends , sir as it were durst not look you , sir show themselves as we term it his friends , whilst he's in directitude .
+
+Directitude ! what's that ?
+
+But when they shall see , sir , his crest up again , and the man in blood , they will out of their burrows , like comes after rain , and revel all with him .
+
+But when goes this forward ?
+
+To-morrow ; to-day ; presently . You shall have the drum struck up this afternoon ; 'tis , as it were , a parcel of their feast , and to be executed ere they wipe their lips .
+
+Why , then we shall have a stirring world again . This peace is nothing but to rust iron , increase tailors , and breed ballad-makers .
+
+Let me have war , say I ; it exceeds peace as far as day does night ; it's spritely , waking , audible , and full of vent . Peace is a very apoplexy , lethargy ; mulled , deaf , sleepy , insensible ; a getter of more bastard children than war's a destroyer of men .
+
+'Tis so : and as war , in some sort , may be said to be a ravisher , so it cannot be denied but peace is a great maker of cuckolds .
+
+Ay , and it makes men hate one another .
+
+Reason : because they then less need one another . The wars for my money . I hope to see Romans as cheap as Volscians . They are rising , they are rising .
+
+In , in , in , in !
+
+
+We hear not of him , neither need we fear him ;
+His remedies are tame i' the present peace
+And quietness o' the people , which before
+Were in wild hurry . Here do we make his friends
+Blush that the world goes well , who rather had ,
+Though they themselves did suffer by 't , behold
+Dissentious numbers pestering streets , than see
+Our tradesmen singing in their shops and going
+About their functions friendly .
+
+
+We stood to 't in good time . Is this Menenius ?
+
+'Tis he , 'tis he O ! he is grown most kind
+Of late . Hail , sir !
+
+Hail to you both !
+
+Your Coriolanus is not much miss'd
+But with his friends : the commonwealth doth stand ,
+And so would do , were he more angry at it .
+
+All's well ; and might have been much better , if
+He could have temporiz'd .
+
+Where is he , hear you ?
+
+Nay , I hear nothing : his mother and his wife
+Hear nothing from him .
+
+
+The gods preserve you both !
+
+Good den , our neighbours .
+
+Good den to you all , good den to you all .
+
+Ourselves , our wives , and children , on our knees ,
+Are bound to pray for you both .
+
+Live , and thrive !
+
+Farewell , kind neighbours : we wish'd Coriolanus
+Had lov'd you as we did .
+
+Now the gods keep you !
+
+Farewell , farewell .
+
+
+Farewell , farewell .
+
+This is a happier and more comely time
+Than when these fellows ran about the streets
+Crying confusion .
+
+Caius Marcius was
+A worthy officer i' the war ; but insolent ,
+O'ercome with pride , ambitious past all thinking ,
+Self-loving ,
+
+And affecting one sole throne .
+Without assistance .
+
+I think not so .
+
+We should by this , to all our lamentation ,
+If he had gone forth consul , found it so .
+
+The gods have well prevented it , and Rome
+Sits safe and still without him .
+
+
+Worthy tribunes ,
+There is a slave , whom we have put in prison ,
+Reports , the Volsces with two several powers
+Are enter'd in the Roman territories ,
+And with the deepest malice of the war
+Destroy what lies before them .
+
+'Tis Aufidius ,
+Who , hearing of our Marcius' banishment ,
+Thrusts forth his horns again into the world ;
+Which were inshell'd when Marcius stood for Rome ,
+And durst not once peep out .
+
+Come , what talk you of Marcius ?
+
+Go see this rumourer whipp'd . It cannot be
+The Volsces dare break with us .
+
+Cannot be !
+We have record that very well it can ,
+And three examples of the like have been
+Within my age . But reason with the fellow ,
+Before you punish him , where he heard this ,
+Lest you shall chance to whip your information ,
+And beat the messenger who bids beware
+Of what is to be dreaded .
+
+Tell not me :
+I know this cannot be .
+
+Not possible .
+
+
+The nobles in great earnestness are going
+All to the senate-house : some news is come ,
+That turns their countenances .
+
+'Tis this slave .
+Go whip him 'fore the people's eyes : his raising ;
+Nothing but his report .
+
+Yes , worthy sir ,
+The slave's report is seconded ; and more ,
+More fearful , is deliver'd .
+
+What more fearful ?
+
+It is spoke freely out of many mouths
+How probable I do not know that Marcius ,
+Join'd with Aufidius , leads a power 'gainst Rome ,
+And vows revenge as spacious as between
+The young'st and oldest thing .
+
+This is most likely .
+
+Rais'd only , that the weaker sort may wish
+Good Marcius home again .
+
+The very trick on 't .
+
+This is unlikely :
+He and Aufidius can no more atone ,
+Than violentest contrariety .
+
+
+You are sent for to the senate :
+A fearful army , led by Caius Marcius ,
+Associated with Aufidius , rages
+Upon our territories ; and have already
+O'erborne their way , consum'd with fire , and took
+What lay before them .
+
+
+O ! you have made good work !
+
+What news ? what news ?
+
+You have holp to ravish your own daughters ; and
+To melt the city leads upon your pates .
+To see your wives dishonour'd to your noses ,
+
+What's the news ? what's the news ?
+
+Your temples burned in their cement , and
+Your franchises , whereon you stood , confin'd
+Into an auger's bore .
+
+Pray now , your news ?
+You have made fair work , I fear me . Pray , your news ?
+If Marcius should be join'd with Volscians ,
+
+If !
+He is their god : he leads them like a thing
+Made by some other deity than Nature ,
+That shapes man better ; and they follow him ,
+Against us brats , with no less confidence
+Than boys pursuing summer butterflies ,
+Or butchers killing flies .
+
+You have made good work ,
+You , and your apron-men ; you that stood so much
+Upon the voice of occupation and
+The breath of garlic-eaters !
+
+He will shake
+Your Rome about your ears .
+
+As Hercules
+Did shake down mellow fruit . You have made fair work !
+
+But is this true , sir ?
+
+Ay ; and you'll look pale
+Before you find it other . All the regions
+Do smilingly revolt ; and who resist
+Are mock'd for valiant ignorance ,
+And perish constant fools . Who is't can blame him ?
+Your enemies , and his , find something in him .
+
+We are all undone unless
+The noble man have mercy .
+
+Who shall ask it ?
+The tribunes cannot do't for shame ; the people
+Deserve such pity of him as the wolf
+Does of the shepherds : for his best friends , if they
+Should say , 'Be good to Rome ,' they charg'd him even
+As those should do that had deserv'd his hate ,
+And therein show'd like enemies .
+
+'Tis true :
+If he were putting to my house the brand
+That should consume it , I have not the face
+To say , 'Beseech you , cease .' You have made fair hands ,
+You and your crafts ! you have crafted fair !
+
+You have brought
+A trembling upon Rome , such as was never
+So incapable of help .
+
+Say not we brought it .
+
+Say not we brought it .
+
+How ! Was it we ? We lov'd him ; but , like beasts
+And cowardly nobles , gave way unto your clusters ,
+Who did hoot him out o' the city .
+
+But I fear
+They'll roar him in again . Tullus Aufidius ,
+The second name of men , obeys his points
+As if he were his officer : desperation
+Is all the policy , strength , and defence ,
+That Rome can make against them .
+
+
+Here come the clusters .
+And is Aufidius with him ? You are they
+That made the air unwholesome , when you cast
+Your stinking greasy caps in hooting at
+Coriolanus' exile . Now he's coming ;
+And not a hair upon a soldier's head
+Which will not prove a whip : as many coxcombs
+As you threw caps up will he tumble down ,
+And pay you for your voices . 'Tis no matter ;
+If he could burn us all into one coal ,
+We have deserv'd it .
+
+Faith , we hear fearful news .
+
+For mine own part ,
+When I said banish him , I said 'twas pity .
+
+And so did I .
+
+And so did I ; and , to say the truth , so did very many of us . That we did we did for the best ; and though we willingly consented to his banishment , yet it was against our will .
+
+You're goodly things , you voices !
+
+You have made
+Good work , you and your cry ! Shall's to the Capitol ?
+
+O ! ay ; what else ?
+
+
+Go , masters , get you home ; be not dismay'd :
+These are a side that would be glad to have
+This true which they so seem to fear . Go home ,
+And show no sign of fear .
+
+The gods be good to us ! Come , masters , let's home . I ever said we were i' the wrong when we banished him .
+
+So did we all . But come , let's home .
+
+
+I do not like this news .
+
+Nor I .
+
+Let's to the Capitol . Would half my wealth
+Would buy this for a lie !
+
+Pray let us go .
+
+
+Do they still fly to the Roman ?
+
+I do not know what witchcraft's in him , but
+Your soldiers use him as the grace 'fore meat ,
+Their talk at table , and their thanks at end ;
+And you are darken'd in this action , sir ,
+Even by your own .
+
+I cannot help it now ,
+Unless , by using means , I lame the foot
+Of our design . He bears himself more proudlier ,
+Even to my person , than I thought he would
+When first I did embrace him ; yet his nature
+In that's no changeling , and I must excuse
+What cannot be amended .
+
+Yet , I wish , sir ,
+I mean for your particular ,you had not
+Join'd in commission with him ; but either
+Had borne the action of yourself , or else
+To him had left it solely .
+
+I understand thee well ; and be thou sure ,
+When he shall come to his account , he knows not
+What I can urge against him . Although it seems ,
+And so he thinks , and is no less apparent
+To the vulgar eye , that he bears all things fairly ,
+And shows good husbandry for the Volscian state ,
+Fights dragon-like , and does achieve as soon
+As draw his sword ; yet he hath left undone
+That which shall break his neck or hazard mine ,
+Whene'er we come to our account .
+
+Sir , I beseech you , think you he'll carry Rome ?
+
+All places yield to him ere he sits down ;
+And the nobility of Rome are his :
+The senators and patricians love him too :
+The tribunes are no soldiers ; and their people
+Will be as rash in the repeal as hasty
+To expel him thence . I think he'll be to Rome
+As is the osprey to the fish , who takes it
+By sovereignty of nature . First he was
+A noble servant to them , but he could not
+Carry his honours even ; whether 'twas pride ,
+Which out of daily fortune ever taints
+The happy man ; whether defect of judgment ,
+To fail in the disposing of those chances
+Which he was lord of ; or whether nature ,
+Not to be other than one thing , not moving
+From the casque to the cushion , but commanding peace
+Even with the same austerity and garb
+As he controll'd the war ; but one of these ,
+As he hath spices of them all , not all ,
+For I dare so far free him , made him fear'd ,
+So hated , and so banish'd : but he has a merit
+To choke it in the utterance . So our virtues
+Lie in the interpretation of the time ;
+And power , unto itself most commendable ,
+Hath not a tomb so evident as a chair
+To extol what it hath done .
+One fire drives out one fire ; one nail , one nail ;
+Rights by rights falter , strengths by strengths do fail .
+Come , let's away . When , Caius , Rome is thine ,
+Thou art poor'st of all ; then shortly art thou mine .
+
+No , I'll not go : you hear what he hath said
+Which was sometime his general ; who lov'd him
+In a most dear particular . He call'd me father :
+But what o' that ? Go , you that banish'd him ;
+A mile before his tent fall down , and knee
+The way into his mercy . Nay , if he coy'd
+To hear Cominius speak , I'll keep at home .
+
+He would not seem to know me .
+
+Do you hear ?
+
+Yet one time he did call me by my name .
+I urg'd our old acquaintance , and the drops
+That we have bled together . Coriolanus
+He would not answer to ; forbad all names ;
+He was a kind of nothing , titleless ,
+Till he had forg'd himself a name o' the fire
+Of burning Rome .
+
+Why , so : you have made good work !
+A pair of tribunes that have rack'd for Rome ,
+To make coals cheap : a noble memory !
+
+I minded him how royal 'twas to pardon
+When it was less expected : he replied ,
+It was a bare petition of a state
+To one whom they had punish'd .
+
+Very well .
+Could he say less ?
+
+I offer'd to awaken his regard
+For's private friends : his answer to me was ,
+He could not stay to pick them in a pile
+Of noisome musty chaff : he said 'twas folly ,
+For one poor grain or two , to leave unburnt ,
+And still to nose the offence .
+
+For one poor grain or two !
+I am one of those ; his mother , wife , his child ,
+And this brave fellow too , we are the grains :
+You are the musty chaff , and you are smelt
+Above the moon . We must be burnt for you .
+
+Nay , pray , be patient : if you refuse your aid
+In this so-never-needed help , yet do not
+Upbraid's with our distress . But , sure , if you
+Would be your country's pleader , your good tongue ,
+More than the instant army we can make ,
+Might stop our countryman .
+
+No ; I'll not meddle .
+
+Pray you , go to him .
+
+What should I do ?
+
+Only make trial what your love can do
+For Rome , towards Marcius .
+
+Well ; and say that Marcius
+Return me , as Cominius is return'd ,
+Unheard ; what then ?
+But as a discontented friend , grief-shot
+With his unkindness ? say 't be so ?
+
+Yet your good will
+Must have that thanks from Rome , after the measure
+As you intended well .
+
+I'll undertake it :
+I think he'll hear me . Yet , to bite his lip ,
+And hum at good Cominius , much unhearts me .
+He was not taken well ; he had not din'd :
+The veins unfill'd , our blood is cold , and then
+We pout upon the morning , are unapt
+To give or to forgive ; but when we have stuff'd
+These pipes and these conveyances of our blood
+With wine and feeding , we have suppler souls
+Than in our priest-like fasts : therefore , I'll watch him
+Till he be dieted to my request ,
+And then I'll set upon him .
+
+You know the very road into his kindness ,
+And cannot lose your way .
+
+Good faith , I'll prove him ,
+Speed how it will . I shall ere long have knowledge
+Of my success .
+
+
+He'll never hear him .
+
+Not ?
+
+I tell you he does sit in gold , his eye
+Red as 'twould burn Rome , and his injury
+The gaoler to his pity . I kneel'd before him ;
+'Twas very faintly he said 'Rise ;' dismiss'd me
+Thus , with his speechless hand : what he would do
+He sent in writing after me ; what he would not ,
+Bound with an oath to yield to his conditions :
+So that all hope is vain
+Unless his noble mother and his wife ,
+Who , as I hear , mean to solicit him
+For mercy to his country . Therefore let's hence ,
+And with our fair entreaties haste them on .
+
+
+Stay ! whence are you ?
+
+Stand ! and go back .
+
+You guard like men ; 'tis well ; but , by your leave ,
+I am an officer of state , and come
+To speak with Coriolanus .
+
+From whence ?
+
+From Rome .
+
+You may not pass ; you must return : our general
+Will no more hear from thence .
+
+You'll see your Rome embrac'd with fire before
+You'll speak with Coriolanus .
+
+Good my friends ,
+If you have heard your general talk of Rome ,
+And of his friends there , it is lots to blanks
+My name hath touch'd your ears : it is Menenius .
+
+Be it so ; go back : the virtue of your name
+Is not here passable .
+
+I tell thee , fellow ,
+Thy general is my lover : I have been
+The book of his good acts , whence men have read
+His fame unparallel'd , haply amplified ;
+For I have ever glorified my friends
+Of whom he's chief with all the size that verity
+Would without lapsing suffer : nay , sometimes ,
+Like to a bowl upon a subtle ground ,
+I have tumbled past the throw , and in his praise
+Have almost stamp'd the leasing . Therefore , fellow ,
+I must have leave to pass .
+
+Faith , sir , if you had told as many lies in his behalf as you have uttered words in your own , you should not pass here ; no , though it were as virtuous to lie as to live chastely . Therefore go back .
+
+Prithee , fellow , remember my name is Menenius , always factionary on the party of your general .
+
+Howsoever you have been his liar as you say you have I am one that , telling true under him , must say you cannot pass . Therefore go back .
+
+Has he dined , canst thou tell ? for I would not speak with him till after dinner .
+
+You are a Roman , are you ?
+
+I am as thy general is .
+
+Then you should hate Rome , as he does . Can you , when you have pushed out your gates the very defender of them , and , in a violent popular ignorance , given your enemy your shield , think to front his revenges with the easy groans of old women , the virginal palms of your daughters , or with the palsied intercession of such a decayed dotant as you seem to be ? Can you think to blow out the intended fire your city is ready to flame in with such weak breath as this ? No , you are deceived ; therefore , back to Rome , and prepare for your execution : you are condemned , our general has sworn you out of reprieve and pardon .
+
+Sirrah , if thy captain know I were here , he would use me with estimation .
+
+Come , my captain knows you not .
+
+I mean , thy general .
+
+My general cares not for you .
+Back , I say : go , lest I let forth your half-pint of blood ; back , that's the utmost of your having : back .
+
+Nay , but , fellow , fellow ,
+
+
+What's the matter ?
+
+Now , you companion , I'll say an errand for you : you shall know now that I am in estimation ; you shall perceive that a Jack guardant cannot office me from my son Coriolanus : guess , but by my entertainment with him , if thou standest not i' the state of hanging , or of some death more long in spectatorship , and crueller in suffering ; behold now presently , and swound for what's to come upon thee .
+
+The glorious gods sit in hourly synod about thy particular prosperity , and love thee no worse than thy old father Menenius does ! O my son ! my son ! thou art preparing fire for us ; look thee , here's water to quench it . I was hardly moved to come to thee ; but being assured none but myself could move thee , I have been blown out of your gates with sighs ; and conjure thee to pardon Rome , and thy petitionary countrymen . The good gods assuage thy wrath , and turn the dregs of it upon this varlet here ; this , who , like a block , hath denied my access to thee .
+
+Away !
+
+How ! away !
+
+Wife , mother , child , I know not . My affairs
+Are servanted to others : though I owe
+My revenge properly , my remission lies
+In Volscian breasts . That we have been familiar ,
+Ingrate forgetfulness shall poison , rather
+Than pity note how much . Therefore , be gone :
+Mine ears against your suits are stronger than
+Your gates against my force . Yet , for I lov'd thee ,
+Take this along ; I writ it for thy sake ,
+
+And would have sent it . Another word , Menenius ,
+I will not hear thee speak . This man , Aufidius ,
+Was my belov'd in Rome : yet thou behold'st !
+
+You keep a constant temper .
+
+
+Now , sir , is your name Menenius ?
+
+'Tis a spell , you see , of much power . You know the way home again .
+
+Do you hear how we are shent for keeping your greatness back ?
+
+What cause , do you think , I have to swound ?
+
+I neither care for the world , nor your general : for such things as you , I can scarce think there's any , ye're so slight . He that hath a will to die by himself fears it not from another . Let your general do his worst . For you , be that you are , long ; and your misery increase with your age ! I say to you , as I was said to , Away !
+
+
+A noble fellow , I warrant him .
+
+The worthy fellow is our general : he is the rock , the oak not to be wind-shaken .
+
+
+We will before the walls of Rome to-morrow
+Set down our host . My partner in this action ,
+You must report to the Volscian lords , how plainly
+I have borne this business .
+
+Only their ends
+You have respected ; stopp'd your ears against
+The general suit of Rome ; never admitted
+A private whisper ; no , not with such friends
+That thought them sure of you .
+
+This last old man ,
+Whom with a crack'd heart I have sent to Rome ,
+Lov'd me above the measure of a father ;
+Nay , godded me indeed . Their latest refuge
+Was to send him ; for whose old love I have ,
+Though I show'd sourly to him , once more offer'd
+The first conditions , which they did refuse ,
+And cannot now accept , to grace him only
+That thought he could do more . A very little
+I have yielded to ; fresh embassies and suits ,
+Nor from the state , nor private friends , hereafter
+Will I lend ear to .
+
+Ha ! what shout is this ?
+Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow
+In the same time 'tis made ? I will not .
+
+
+My wife comes foremost ; then the honour'd mould
+Wherein this trunk was fram'd , and in her hand
+The grandchild to her blood . But out , affection !
+All bond and privilege of nature , break !
+Let it be virtuous to be obstinate .
+What is that curtsy worth ? or those doves' eyes ,
+Which can make gods forsworn ? I melt , and am not
+Of stronger earth than others . My mother bows ,
+As if Olympus to a molehill should
+In supplication nod ; and my young boy
+Hath an aspect of intercession , which
+Great nature cries , 'Deny not .' Let the Volsces
+Plough Rome , and harrow Italy ; I'll never
+Be such a gosling to obey instinct , but stand
+As if a man were author of himself
+
+And knew no other kin .
+
+My lord and husband !
+
+These eyes are not the same I wore in Rome .
+
+The sorrow that delivers us thus chang'd
+Makes you think so .
+
+Like a dull actor now ,
+I have forgot my part , and I am out ,
+Even to a full disgrace . Best of my flesh ,
+Forgive my tyranny ; but do not say
+For that , 'Forgive our Romans .' O ! a kiss
+Long as my exile , sweet as my revenge !
+Now , by the jealous queen of heaven , that kiss
+I carried from thee , dear , and my true lip
+Hath virgin'd it e'er since . You gods ! I prate ,
+And the most noble mother of the world
+Leave unsaluted . Sink , my knee , i' the earth ;
+
+Of thy deep duty more impression show
+Than that of common sons .
+
+O ! stand up bless'd ;
+Whilst , with no softer cushion than the flint ,
+I kneel before thee , and unproperly
+Show duty , as mistaken all this while
+Between the child and parent .
+
+
+What is this ?
+Your knees to me ! to your corrected son !
+Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach
+Fillip the stars ; then let the mutinous winds
+Strike the proud cedars 'gainst the fiery sun ,
+Murd'ring impossibility , to make
+What cannot be , slight work .
+
+Thou art my warrior ;
+I holp to frame thee . Do you know this lady ?
+
+The noble sister of Publicola ,
+The moon of Rome ; chaste as the icicle
+That's curdied by the frost from purest snow ,
+And hangs on Dian's temple : dear Valeria !
+
+This is a poor epitome of yours ,
+
+Which by the interpretation of full time
+May show like all yourself .
+
+The god of soldiers ,
+With the consent of supreme Jove , inform
+Thy thoughts with nobleness ; that thou mayst prove
+To shame unvulnerable , and stick i' the wars
+Like a great sea-mark , standing every flaw ,
+And saving those that eye thee !
+
+Your knee , sirrah .
+
+That's my brave boy !
+
+Even he , your wife , this lady , and myself ,
+Are suitors to you .
+
+I beseech you , peace :
+Or , if you'd ask , remember this before :
+The things I have forsworn to grant may never
+Be held by you denials . Do not bid me
+Dismiss my soldiers , or capitulate
+Again with Rome's mechanics : tell me not
+Wherein I seem unnatural : desire not
+To allay my rages and revenges with
+Your colder reasons .
+
+O ! no more , no more ;
+You have said you will not grant us any thing ;
+For we have nothing else to ask but that
+Which you deny already : yet we will ask ;
+That , if you fail in our request , the blame
+May hang upon your hardness . Therefore , hear us .
+
+Aufidius , and you Volsces , mark ; for we'll
+Hear nought from Rome in private . Your request ?
+
+Should we be silent and not speak , our raiment
+And state of bodies would bewray what life
+We have led since thy exile . Think with thyself
+How more unfortunate than all living women
+Are we come hither : since that thy sight , which should
+Make our eyes flow with joy , hearts dance with comforts ,
+Constrains them weep and shake with fear and sorrow ;
+Making the mother , wife , and child to see
+The son , the husband , and the father tearing
+His country's bowels out . And to poor we
+Thine enmity's most capital : thou barr'st us
+Our prayers to the gods , which is a comfort
+That all but we enjoy ; for how can we ,
+Alas ! how can we for our country pray ,
+Whereto we are bound , together with thy victory ,
+Whereto we are bound ? Alack ! or we must lose
+The country , our dear nurse , or else thy person ,
+Our comfort in the country . We must find
+An evident calamity , though we had
+Our wish , which side should win ; for either thou
+Must , as a foreign recreant , be led
+With manacles through our streets , or else
+Triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin ,
+And bear the palm for having bravely shed
+Thy wife and children's blood . For myself , son ,
+I purpose not to wait on Fortune till
+These wars determine : if I cannot persuade thee
+Rather to show a noble grace to both parts
+Than seek the end of one , thou shalt no sooner
+March to assault thy country than to tread
+Trust to't , thou shalt not on thy mother's womb ,
+That brought thee to this world .
+
+Ay , and mine ,
+That brought you forth this boy , to keep your name
+Living to time .
+
+A' shall not tread on me :
+I'll run away till I am bigger , but then I'll fight .
+
+Not of a woman's tenderness to be ,
+Requires nor child nor woman's face to see .
+I have sat too long .
+
+
+Nay , go not from us thus .
+If it were so , that our request did tend
+To save the Romans , thereby to destroy
+The Volsces whom you serve , you might condemn us ,
+As poisonous of your honour : no ; our suit
+Is , that you reconcile them : while the Volsces
+May say , 'This mercy we have show'd ;' the Romans ,
+'This we receiv'd ;' and each in either side
+Give the all-hail to thee , and cry , 'Be bless'd
+For making up this peace !' Thou know'st , great son ,
+The end of war's uncertain ; but this certain ,
+That , if thou conquer Rome , the benefit
+Which thou shalt thereby reap is such a name
+Whose repetition will be dogg'd with curses ;
+Whose chronicle thus writ : 'The man was noble ,
+But with his last attempt he wip'd it out ,
+Destroy'd his country , and his name remains
+To the ensuing age abhorr'd .' Speak to me , son !
+Thou hast affected the fine strains of honour ,
+To imitate the graces of the gods ;
+To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o' the air ,
+And yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt
+That should but rive an oak . Why dost not speak ?
+Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man
+Still to remember wrongs ? Daughter , speak you :
+He cares not for your weeping . Speak thou , boy :
+Perhaps thy childishness will move him more
+Than can our reasons . There is no man in the world
+More bound to 's mother ; yet here he lets me prate
+Like one i' the stocks . Thou hast never in thy life
+Show'd thy dear mother any courtesy ;
+When she poor hen ! fond of no second brood
+Has cluck'd thee to the wars , and safely home ,
+Loaden with honour . Say my request's unjust ,
+And spurn me back ; but if it be not so ,
+Thou art not honest , and the gods will plague thee ,
+That thou restrain'st from me the duty which
+To a mother's part belongs . He turns away :
+Down , ladies ; let us shame him with our knees .
+To his surname Coriolanus 'longs more pride
+Than pity to our prayers . Down : an end ;
+This is the last : so we will home to Rome ,
+And die among our neighbours . Nay , behold us .
+This boy , that cannot tell what he would have ,
+But kneels and holds up hands for fellowship ,
+Does reason our petition with more strength
+Than thou hast to deny 't . Come , let us go :
+This fellow had a Volscian to his mother ;
+His wife is in Corioli , and his child
+Like him by chance . Yet give us our dispatch :
+I am hush'd until our city be a-fire ,
+And then I'll speak a little .
+
+
+O , mother , mother !
+What have you done ? Behold ! the heavens do ope ,
+The gods look down , and this unnatural scene
+They laugh at . O my mother ! mother ! O !
+You have won a happy victory to Rome ;
+But , for your son , believe it , O ! believe it ,
+Most dangerously you have with him prevail'd ,
+If not most mortal to him . But let it come .
+Aufidius , though I cannot make true wars ,
+I'll frame convenient peace . Now , good Aufidius ,
+Were you in my stead , would you have heard
+A mother less , or granted less , Aufidius ?
+
+I was mov'd withal .
+
+I dare be sworn you were :
+And , sir , it is no little thing to make
+Mine eyes to sweat compassion . But , good sir ,
+What peace you'll make , advise me : for my part ,
+I'll not to Rome , I'll back with you ; and pray you ,
+Stand to me in this cause . O mother ! wife !
+
+I am glad thou hast set thy mercy and thy honour
+At difference in thee : out of that I'll work
+Myself a former fortune .
+
+
+Ay , by and by ;
+But we will drink together ; and you shall bear
+A better witness back than words , which we ,
+On like conditions , would have counter-seal'd .
+Come , enter with us . Ladies , you deserve
+To have a temple built you : all the swords
+In Italy , and her confederate arms ,
+Could not have made this peace .
+
+
+See you yond coign o' the Capitol , yond corner-stone ?
+
+Why , what of that ?
+
+If it be possible for you to displace it with your little finger , there is some hope the ladies of Rome , especially his mother , may prevail with him . But I say , there is no hope in 't . Our throats are sentenced and stay upon execution .
+
+Is't possible that so short a time can alter the condition of a man ?
+
+There is differency between a grub and a butterfly ; yet your butterfly was a grub . This Marcius is grown from man to dragon : he has wings ; he's more than a creeping thing .
+
+He loved his mother dearly .
+
+So did he me ; and he no more remembers his mother now than an eight-year-old horse . The tartness of his face sours ripe grapes : when he walks , he moves like an engine , and the ground shrinks before his treading : he is able to pierce a corslet with his eye ; talks like a knell , and his hum is a battery . He sits in his state , as a thing made for Alexander . What he bids be done is finished with his bidding . He wants nothing of a god but eternity and a heaven to throne in .
+
+Yes , mercy , if you report him truly .
+
+I paint him in the character . Mark what mercy his mother shall bring from him : there is no more mercy in him than there is milk in a male tiger ; that shall our poor city find : and all this is 'long of you .
+
+The gods be good unto us !
+
+No , in such a case the gods will not be good unto us . When we banished him , we respected not them ; and , he returning to break our necks , they respect not us .
+
+
+Sir , if you'd save your life , fly to your house :
+The plebeians have got your fellow-tribune ,
+And hale him up and down ; all swearing , if
+The Roman ladies bring not comfort home ,
+They'll give him death by inches .
+
+
+What's the news ?
+
+Good news , good news ! the ladies have prevail'd ,
+The Volscians are dislodg'd , and Marcius gone .
+A merrier day did never yet greet Rome ,
+No , not the expulsion of the Tarquins .
+
+Friend ,
+Art thou certain this is true ? is it most certain ?
+
+As certain as I know the sun is fire :
+Where have you lurk'd that you make doubt of it ?
+Ne'er through an arch so hurried the blown tide ,
+As the recomforted through the gates . Why , hark you !
+
+The trumpets , sackbuts , psalteries , and fifes ,
+Tabors , and cymbals , and the shouting Romans ,
+Make the sun dance . Hark you !
+
+
+This is good news :
+I will go meet the ladies . This Volumnia
+Is worth of consuls , senators , patricians ,
+A city full ; of tribunes , such as you ,
+A sea and land full . You have pray'd well to-day :
+This morning for ten thousand of your throats
+I'd not have given a doit . Hark , how they joy !
+
+
+First , the gods bless you for your tidings ; next ,
+Accept my thankfulness .
+
+Sir , we have all
+Great cause to give great thanks .
+
+They are near the city ?
+
+Almost at point to enter .
+
+We will meet them ,
+And help the joy .
+
+Behold our patroness , the life of Rome !
+Call all your tribes together , praise the gods ,
+And make triumphant fires ; strew flowers before them :
+Unshout the noise that banish'd Marcius ;
+Repeal him with the welcome of his mother ;
+Cry , 'Welcome , ladies , welcome !'
+
+Welcome , ladies ,
+Welcome !
+
+
+Go tell the lords o' the city I am here :
+Deliver them this paper : having read it ,
+Bid them repair to the market-place ; where I ,
+Even in theirs and in the commons' ears ,
+Will vouch the truth of it . Him I accuse
+The city ports by this hath enter'd , and
+Intends to appear before the people , hoping
+To purge himself with words : dispatch .
+
+
+Most welcome !
+
+How is it with our general ?
+
+Even so
+As with a man by his own alms empoison'd ,
+And with his charity slain .
+
+Most noble sir ,
+If you do hold the same intent wherein
+You wish'd us parties , we'll deliver you
+Of your great danger .
+
+Sir , I cannot tell :
+We must proceed as we do find the people .
+
+The people will remain uncertain whilst
+'Twixt you there's difference ; but the fall of either
+Makes the survivor heir of all .
+
+I know it ;
+And my pretext to strike at him admits
+A good construction . I rais'd him , and I pawn'd
+Mine honour for his truth : who being so heighten'd ,
+He water'd his new plants with dews of flattery ,
+Seducing so my friends ; and , to this end ,
+He bow'd his nature , never known before
+But to be rough , unswayable , and free .
+
+Sir , his stoutness
+When he did stand for consul , which he lost
+By lack of stooping ,
+
+That I would have spoke of :
+Being banish'd for't , he came unto my hearth ;
+Presented to my knife his throat : I took him ;
+Made him joint-servant with me ; gave him way
+In all his own desires ; nay , let him choose
+Out of my files , his projects to accomplish ,
+My best and freshest men ; serv'd his designments
+In mine own person ; holp to reap the fame
+Which he did end all his ; and took some pride
+To do myself this wrong : till , at the last ,
+I seem'd his follower , not partner ; and
+He wag'd me with his countenance , as if
+I had been mercenary .
+
+So he did , my lord :
+The army marvell'd at it ; and , in the last ,
+When we had carried Rome , and that we look'd
+For no less spoil than glory ,
+
+There was it ;
+For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him .
+At a few drops of women's rheum , which are
+As cheap as lies , he sold the blood and labour
+Of our great action : therefore shall he die ,
+And I'll renew me in his fall . But , hark !
+
+
+Your native town you enter'd like a post ,
+And had no welcomes home ; but he returns ,
+Splitting the air with noise .
+
+And patient fools ,
+Whose children he hath slain , their base throats tear
+With giving him glory .
+
+Therefore , at your vantage ,
+Ere he express himself , or move the people
+With what he would say , let him feel your sword ,
+Which we will second . When he lies along ,
+After your way his tale pronounc'd shall bury
+His reasons with his body .
+
+Say no more :
+Here come the lords .
+
+
+You are most welcome home .
+
+I have not deserv'd it .
+But , worthy lords , have you with heed perus'd
+What I have written to you ?
+
+We have .
+
+And grieve to hear 't .
+What faults he made before the last , I think
+Might have found easy fines ; but there to end
+Where he was to begin , and give away
+The benefit of our levies , answering us
+With our own charge , making a treaty where
+There was a yielding , this admits no excuse .
+
+He approaches : you shall hear him .
+
+
+Hail , lords ! I am return'd your soldier ;
+No more infected with my country's love
+Than when I parted hence , but still subsisting
+Under your great command . You are to know ,
+That prosperously I have attempted and
+With bloody passage led your wars even to
+The gates of Rome . Our spoils we have brought home
+Do more than counterpoise a full third part
+The charges of the action . We have made peace
+With no less honour to the Antiates
+Than shame to the Romans ; and we here deliver ,
+Subscrib'd by the consuls and patricians ,
+Together with the seal o' the senate , what
+We have compounded on .
+
+Read it not , noble lords ;
+But tell the traitor in the highest degree
+He hath abus'd your powers .
+
+Traitor ! How now ?
+
+Ay , traitor , Marcius .
+
+Marcius !
+
+Ay , Marcius , Caius Marcius . Dost thou think
+I'll grace thee with that robbery , thy stol'n name
+Coriolanus in Corioli ?
+You lords and heads of the state , perfidiously
+He has betray'd your business , and given up ,
+For certain drops of salt , your city Rome ,
+I say 'your city ,' to his wife and mother ;
+Breaking his oath and resolution like
+A twist of rotten silk , never admitting
+Counsel o' the war , but at his nurse's tears
+He whin'd and roar'd away your victory ,
+That pages blush'd at him , and men of heart
+Look'd wondering each at other .
+
+Hear'st thou , Mars ?
+
+Name not the god , thou boy of tears .
+
+Ha !
+
+No more .
+
+Measureless liar , thou hast made my heart
+Too great for what contains it . Boy ! O slave !
+Pardon me , lords , 'tis the first time that ever
+I was forc'd to scold . Your judgments , my grave lords ,
+Must give this cur the lie : and his own notion
+Who wears my stripes impress'd upon him , that
+Must bear my beating to his grave shall join
+To thrust the lie unto him .
+
+Peace , both , and hear me speak .
+
+Cut me to pieces , Volsces ; men and lads ,
+Stain all your edges on me . Boy ! False hound !
+If you have writ your annals true , 'tis there ,
+That , like an eagle in a dove-cote , I
+Flutter'd your Volscians in Corioli :
+Alone I did it . Boy !
+
+Why , noble lords ,
+Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune ,
+Which was your shame , by this unholy braggart ,
+'Fore your own eyes and ears ?
+
+Let him die for 't .
+
+Tear him to pieces .Do it presently .He killed my son .My daughter .He killed my cousin Marcus .He killed my father .
+
+Peace , ho ! no outrage : peace !
+The man is noble and his fame folds in
+This orb o' the earth . His last offences to us
+Shall have judicious hearing . Stand , Aufidius ,
+And trouble not the peace .
+
+O ! that I had him ,
+With six Aufidiuses , or more , his tribe ,
+To use my lawful sword !
+
+Insolent villain !
+
+Kill , kill , kill , kill , kill him !
+
+
+Hold , hold , hold , hold !
+
+My noble masters , hear me speak .
+
+O Tullus !
+
+Thou hast done a deed whereat valour will weep .
+
+Tread not upon him . Masters all , be quiet .
+Put up your swords .
+
+My lords , when you shall know ,as in this rage ,
+Provok'd by him , you cannot ,the great danger
+Which this man's life did owe you , you'll rejoice
+That he is thus cut off . Please it your honours
+To call me to your senate , I'll deliver
+Myself your loyal servant , or endure
+Your heaviest censure .
+
+Bear from hence his body ;
+And mourn you for him ! Let him be regarded
+As the most noble corse that ever herald
+Did follow to his urn .
+
+His own impatience
+Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame .
+Let's make the best of it .
+
+My rage is gone ,
+And I am struck with sorrow . Take him up :
+Help , three o' the chiefest soldiers ; I'll be one .
+Beat thou the drum , that it speak mournfully ;
+Trail your steel pikes . Though in this city he
+Hath widow'd and unchilded many a one ,
+Which to this hour bewail the injury ,
+Yet he shall have a noble memory .
+Assist .
+
+HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK
+
+Ghost of Hamlet's Father .
+
+
+Who's there ?
+
+Nay , answer me ; stand , and unfold yourself .
+
+Long live the king !
+
+Bernardo ?
+
+He .
+
+You come most carefully upon your hour .
+
+'Tis now struck twelve ; get thee to bed , Francisco .
+
+For this relief much thanks ; 'tis bitter cold ,
+And I am sick at heart .
+
+Have you had quiet guard ?
+
+Not a mouse stirring .
+
+Well , good-night .
+If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus ,
+The rivals of my watch , bid them make hasie .
+
+I think I hear them . Stand , ho ! Who's there ?
+
+
+Friends to this ground .
+
+And liegemen to the Dane .
+
+Give you good-night .
+
+O ! farewell , honest soldier :
+Who hath reliev'd you ?
+
+Bernardo has my place .
+Give you good-night .
+
+
+Holla ! Bernardo !
+
+Say ,
+What ! is Horatio there ?
+
+A piece of him .
+
+Welcome , Horatio ; welcome , good Marcellus .
+
+What ! has this thing appear'd again to-night ?
+
+I have seen nothing .
+
+Horatio says 'tis but our fantasy ,
+And will not let belief take hold of him
+Touching this dreaded sight twice seen of us :
+Therefore I have entreated him along
+With us to watch the minutes of this night ;
+That if again this apparition come ,
+He may approve our eyes and speak to it .
+
+Tush , tush ! 'twill not appear .
+
+Sit down awhile ,
+And let us once again assail your ears ,
+That are so fortified against our story ,
+What we two nights have seen .
+
+Well , sit we down ,
+And let us hear Bernardo speak of this .
+
+Last night of all ,
+When yond same star that's westward from the pole
+Had made his course to illume that part of heaven
+Where now it burns , Marcellus and myself ,
+The bell then beating one ,
+
+Peace ! break thee off ; look , where it comes again !
+
+
+In the same figure , like the king that's dead .
+
+Thou art a scholar ; speak to it , Horatio .
+
+Looks it not like the king ? mark it , Horatio .
+
+Most like : it harrows me with fear and wonder .
+
+It would be spoke to .
+
+Question it , Horatio .
+
+What art thou that usurp'st this time of night ,
+Together with that fair and war-like form
+In which the majesty of buried Denmark
+Did sometimes march ? by heaven I charge thee , speak !
+
+It is offended .
+
+See ! it stalks away .
+
+Stay ! speak , speak ! I charge thee , speak !
+
+
+'Tis gone , and will not answer .
+
+How now , Horatio ! you tremble and look pale :
+Is not this something more than fantasy ?
+What think you on 't ?
+
+Before my God , I might not this believe
+Without the sensible and true avouch
+Of mine own eyes .
+
+Is it not like the king ?
+
+As thou-art to thyself :
+Such was the very armour he had on
+When he the ambitious Norway combated ;
+So frown'd he once , when , in an angry parle ,
+He smote the sledded Polacks on the ice .
+'Tis strange .
+
+Thus twice before , and jump at this dead hour ,
+With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch .
+
+In what particular thought to work I know not ;
+But in the gross and scope of my opinion ,
+This bodes some strange eruption to our state .
+
+Good now , sit down , and tell me , he that knows ,
+Why this same strict and most observant watch
+So nightly toils the subject of the land ;
+And why such daily cast of brazen cannon ,
+And foreign mart for implements of war ;
+Why such impress of shipwrights , whose sore task
+Does not divide the Sunday from the week ;
+What might be toward , that this sweaty haste
+Doth make the night joint-labourer with the day :
+Who is 't that can inform me ?
+
+That can I ;
+At least , the whisper goes so . Our last king ,
+Whose image even but now appear'd to us ,
+Was , as you know , by Fortinbras of Norway ,
+Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate pride ,
+Dar'd to the combat ; in which our valiant Hamlet
+For so this side of our known world esteem'd him
+Did slay this Fortinbras ; who , by a seal'd compact ,
+Well ratified by law and heraldry ,
+Did forfeit with his life all those his lands
+Which he stood seiz'd of , to the conqueror ;
+Against the which , a moiety competent
+Was gaged by our king ; which had return'd
+To the inheritance of Fortinbras ,
+Had he been vanquisher ; as , by the same covenant ,
+And carriage of the article design'd ,
+His fell to Hamlet . Now , sir , young Fortinbras ,
+Of unimproved mettle hot and full ,
+Hath in the skirts of Norway here and there
+Shark'd up a list of lawless resolutes ,
+For food and diet , to some enterprise
+That hath a stomach in 't ; which is no other
+As it doth well appear unto our state
+But to recover of us , by strong hand
+And terms compulsative , those foresaid lands
+So by his father lost . And this , I take it ,
+Is the main motive of our preparations ,
+The source of this our watch and the chief head
+Of this post-haste and romage in the land .
+
+I think it be no other but e'en so ;
+Well may it sort that this portentous figure
+Comes armed through our watch , so like the king
+That was and is the question of these wars .
+
+A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye .
+In the most high and palmy state of Rome ,
+A little ere the mightiest Julius fell ,
+The graves stood tenantless and the sheeted dead
+Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets ;
+As stars with trains of fire and dews of blood ,
+Disasters in the sun ; and the moist star
+Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands
+Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse ;
+And even the like precurse of fierce events ,
+As harbingers preceding still the fates
+And prologue to the omen coming on ,
+Have heaven and earth together demonstrated
+Unto our climatures and countrymen .
+But , soft ! behold ! lo ! where it comes again .
+
+
+I'll cross it , though it blast me . Stay , illusion !
+If thou hast any sound , or use of voice ,
+Speak to me :
+If there be any good thing to be done ,
+That may to thee do ease and grace to me ,
+Speak to me :
+If thou art privy to thy country's fate ,
+Which happily foreknowing may avoid ,
+O ! speak ;
+Or if thou hast uphoarded in thy life
+Extorted treasure in the womb of earth ,
+For which , they say , you spirits oft walk in death ,
+
+
+Speak of it : stay , and speak ! Stop it , Marcellus .
+
+Shall I strike at it with my partisan ?
+
+Do , if it will not stand .
+
+'Tis here !
+
+'Tis here !
+
+
+'Tis gone !
+We do it wrong , being so majestical ,
+To offer it the show of violence ;
+For it is , as the air , invulnerable ,
+And our vain blows malicious mockery .
+
+It was about to speak when the cock crew .
+
+And then it started like a guilty thing
+Upon a fearful summons . I have heard ,
+The cock , that is the trumpet to the morn ,
+Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat
+Awake the god of day ; and at his warning ,
+Whether in sea or fire , in earth or air ,
+The extravagant and erring spirit hies
+To his confine ; and of the truth herein
+This present object made probation .
+
+It faded on the crowing of the cock .
+Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes
+Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated ,
+The bird of dawning singeth all night long ;
+And then , they say , no spirit can walk abroad ;
+The nights are wholesome ; then no planets strike ,
+No fairy takes , nor witch hath power to charm ,
+So hallow'd and so gracious is the time .
+
+So have I heard and do in part believe it .
+But , look , the morn in russet mantle clad ,
+Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill ;
+Break we our watch up ; and by my advice
+Let us impart what we have seen to-night
+Unto young Hamlet ; for , upon my life ,
+This spirit , dumb to us , will speak to him .
+Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it ,
+As needful in our loves , fitting our duty ?
+
+Let's do't , I pray ; and I this morning know
+Where we shall find him most conveniently .
+
+
+Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death
+The memory be green , and that it us befitted
+To bear our hearts in grief and our whole kingdom
+To be contracted in one brow of woe ,
+Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature
+That we with wisest sorrow think on him ,
+Together with remembrance of ourselves .
+Therefore our sometime sister , now our queen ,
+The imperial jointress of this war-like state ,
+Have we , as 'twere with a defeated joy ,
+With one auspicious and one dropping eye ,
+With mirth in funeral and with dirge in marriage ,
+In equal scale weighing delight and dole ,
+Taken to wife : nor have we herein barr'd
+Your better wisdoms , which have freely gone
+With this affair along : for all , our thanks .
+Now follows , that you know , young Fortinbras ,
+Holding a weak supposal of our worth ,
+Or thinking by our late dear brother's death
+Our state to be disjoint and out of frame ,
+Colleagued with the dream of his advantage ,
+He hath not fail'd to pester us with message ,
+Importing the surrender of those lands
+Lost by his father , with all bands of law ,
+To our most valiant brother . So much for him .
+Now for ourself and for this time of meeting .
+Thus much the business is : we have here writ
+To Norway , uncle of young Fortinbras ,
+Who , impotent and bed-rid , scarcely hears
+Of this his nephew's purpose , to suppress
+His further gait herein ; in that the levies ,
+The lists and full proportions , are all made
+Out of his subject ; and we here dispatch
+You , good Cornelius , and you , Voltimand ,
+For bearers of this greeting to old Norway ,
+Giving to you no further personal power
+To business with the king more than the scope
+Of these delated articles allow .
+Farewell and let your haste commend your duty .
+
+In that and all things will we show our duty .
+
+In that and all things will we show our duty .
+
+We doubt it nothing : heartily farewell .
+
+And now , Laertes , what's the news with you ?
+You told us of some suit ; what is't , Laertes ?
+You cannot speak of reason to the Dane ,
+And lose your voice ; what wouldst thou beg , Laertes ,
+That shall not be my offer , not thy asking ?
+The head is not more native to the heart ,
+The hand more instrumental to the mouth ,
+Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father .
+What wouldst thou have , Laertes ?
+
+Dread my lord ,
+Your leave and favour to return to France ;
+From whence though willingly I came to Denmark ,
+To show my duty in your coronation ,
+Yet now , I must confess , that duty done ,
+My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France
+And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon .
+
+Have you your father's leave ? What says Polonius ?
+
+He hath , my lord , wrung from me my slow leave
+By laboursome petition , and at last
+Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent :
+I do beseech you , give him leave to go .
+
+Take thy fair hour , Laertes ; time be thine ,
+And thy best graces spend it at thy will .
+But now , my cousin Hamlet , and my son ,
+
+A little more than kin , and less than kind .
+
+How is it that the clouds still hang on you ?
+
+Not so , my lord ; I am too much i' the sun .
+
+Good Hamlet , cast thy nighted colour off ,
+And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark .
+Do not for ever with thy vailed lids
+Seek for thy noble father in the dust :
+Thou know'st 'tis common ; all that live must die ,
+Passing through nature to eternity .
+
+Ay , madam , it is common .
+
+If it be ,
+Why seems it so particular with thee ?
+
+Seems , madam ! Nay , it is ; I know not 'seems .'
+'Tis not alone my inky cloak , good mother ,
+Nor customary suits of solemn black ,
+Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath ,
+No , nor the fruitful river in the eye ,
+Nor the dejected haviour of the visage ,
+Together with all forms , modes , shows of grief ,
+That can denote me truly ; these indeed seem ,
+For they are actions that a man might play :
+But I have that within which passeth show ;
+These but the trappings and the suits of woe .
+
+'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature , Hamlet ,
+To give these mourning duties to your father :
+But , you must know , your father lost a father ;
+That father lost , lost his ; and the survivor bound
+In filial obligation for some term
+To do obsequious sorrow ; but to persever
+In obstinate condolement is a course
+Of impious stubbornness ; 'tis unmanly grief :
+It shows a will most incorrect to heaven ,
+A heart unfortified , a mind impatient ,
+An understanding simple and unschool'd :
+For what we know must be and is as common
+As any the most vulgar thing to sense ,
+Why should we in our peevish opposition
+Take it to heart ? Fie ! 'tis a fault to heaven ,
+A fault against the dead , a fault to nature ,
+To reason most absurd , whose common theme
+Is death of fathers , and who still hath cried ,
+From the first corse till he that died to-day ,
+'This must be so .' We pray you , throw to earth
+This unprevailing woe , and think of us
+As of a father ; for let the world take note ,
+You are the most immediate to our throne ;
+And with no less nobility of love
+Than that which dearest father bears his son
+Do I impart toward you . For your intent
+In going back to school in Wittenberg ,
+It is most retrograde to our desire ;
+And we beseech you , bend you to remain
+Here , in the cheer and comfort of our eye ,
+Our chiefest courtier , cousin , and our son .
+
+Let not thy mother lose her prayers , Hamlet :
+I pray thee , stay with us ; go not to Wittenberg .
+
+I shall in all my best obey you , madam .
+
+Why , 'tis a loving and a fair reply :
+Be as ourself in Denmark . Madam , come ;
+This gentle and unforc'd accord of Hamlet
+Sits smiling to my heart ; in grace whereof ,
+No jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day ,
+But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell ,
+And the king's rouse the heavens shall bruit again ,
+Re-speaking earthly thunder . Come away .
+
+
+O ! that this too too solid flesh would melt ,
+Thaw and resolve itself into a dew ;
+Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
+His canon 'gainst self-slaughter ! O God ! O God !
+How weary , stale , flat , and unprofitable
+Seem to me all the uses of this world .
+Fie on 't ! O fie ! 'tis an unweeded garden ,
+That grows to seed ; things rank and gross in nature
+Possess it merely . That it should come to this !
+But two months dead : nay , not so much , not two :
+So excellent a king ; that was , to this ,
+Hyperion to a satyr ; so loving to my mother
+That he might not beteem the winds of heaven
+Visit her face too roughly . Heaven and earth !
+Must I remember ? why , she would hang on him ,
+As if increase of appetite had grown
+By what it fed on ; and yet , within a month ,
+Let me not think on't : Frailty , thy name is woman !
+A little month ; or ere those shoes were old
+With which she follow'd my poor father's body ,
+Like Niobe , all tears ; why she , even she ,
+O God ! a beast , that wants discourse of reason ,
+Would have mourn'd longer ,married with mine uncle ,
+My father's brother , but no more like my father
+Than I to Hercules : within a month ,
+Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears
+Had left the flushing in her galled eyes ,
+She married . O ! most wicked speed , to post
+With such dexterity to incestuous sheets .
+It is not nor it cannot come to good ;
+But break , my heart , for I must hold my tongue !
+
+
+Hail to your lordship !
+
+I am glad to see you well :
+Horatio , or I do forget myself .
+
+The same , my lord , and your poor servant ever .
+
+Sir , my good friend ; I'll change that name with you .
+And what make you from Wittenberg , Horatio ?
+Marcellus ?
+
+My good lord ,
+
+I am very glad to see you .
+
+Good even , sir .
+But what , in faith , make you from Wittenberg ?
+
+A truant disposition , good my lord .
+
+I would not hear your enemy say so ,
+Nor shall you do mine ear that violence ,
+To make it truster of your own report
+Against yourself ; I know you are no truant .
+But what is your affair in Elsinore ?
+We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart .
+
+My lord , I came to see your father's funeral .
+
+I pray thee , do not mock me , fellow-student ;
+I think it was to see my mother's wedding .
+
+Indeed , my lord , it follow'd hard upon .
+
+Thrift , thrift , Horatio ! the funeral bak'd meats
+Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables .
+Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven
+Ere I had ever seen that day , Horatio !
+My father , methinks I see my father .
+
+O ! where , my lord ?
+
+In my mind's eye , Horatio .
+
+I saw him once ; he was a goodly king .
+
+He was a man , take him for all in all ,
+I shall not look upon his like again .
+
+My lord , I think I saw him yesternight .
+
+Saw who ?
+
+My lord , the king your father .
+
+The king , my father !
+
+Season your admiration for a while
+With an attent ear , till I may deliver ,
+Upon the witness of these gentlemen ,
+This marvel to you .
+
+For God's love , let me hear .
+
+Two nights together had these gentlemen ,
+Marcellus and Bernardo , on their watch ,
+In the dead vast and middle of the night ,
+Been thus encounter'd : a figure like your father ,
+Armed at points exactly , cap-a-pe ,
+Appears before them , and with solemn march
+Goes slow and stately by them : thrice he walk'd
+By their oppress'd and fear-surprised eyes ,
+Within his truncheon's length ; whilst they , distill'd
+Almost to jelly with the act of fear ,
+Stand dumb and speak not to him . This to me
+In dreadful secrecy impart they did ,
+And I with them the third night kept the watch ;
+Where , as they had deliver'd , both in time ,
+Form of the thing , each word made true and good ,
+The apparition comes . I knew your father ;
+These hands are not more like .
+
+But where was this ?
+
+My lord , upon the platform where we watch'd .
+
+Did you not speak to it ?
+
+My lord , I did ;
+But answer made it none ; yet once methought
+It lifted up its head and did address
+Itself to motion , like as it would speak ;
+But even then the morning cock crew loud ,
+And at the sound it shrunk in haste away
+And vanish'd from our sight .
+
+'Tis very strange .
+
+As I do live , my honour'd lord , 'tis true ;
+And we did think it writ down in our duty
+To let you know of it .
+
+Indeed , indeed , sirs , but this troubles me .
+Hold you the watch to-night ?
+
+We do , my lord .
+
+We do , my lord .
+
+Arm'd , say you ?
+
+Arm'd , my lord .
+
+Arm'd , my lord .
+
+From top to toe ?
+
+My lord , from head to foot .
+
+My lord , from head to foot .
+
+Then saw you not his face ?
+
+O yes ! my lord ; he wore his beaver up .
+
+What ! look'd he frowningly ?
+
+A countenance more in sorrow than in anger .
+
+Pale or red ?
+
+Nay , very pale .
+
+And fix'd his eyes upon you ?
+
+Most constantly .
+
+I would I had been there .
+
+It would have much amaz'd you .
+
+Very like , very like . Stay'd it long ?
+
+While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred .
+
+Longer , longer .
+
+Longer , longer .
+
+Not when I saw it .
+
+His beard was grizzled , no ?
+
+It was , as I have seen it in his life ,
+A sable silver'd .
+
+I will watch to-night ;
+Perchance 'twill walk again .
+
+I warrant it will .
+
+If it assume my noble father's person ,
+I'll speak to it , though hell itself should gape
+And bid me hold my peace . I pray you all ,
+If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight ,
+Let it be tenable in your silence still ;
+And whatsoever else shall hap to-night ,
+Give it an understanding , but no tongue :
+I will requite your loves . So , fare you well .
+Upon the platform , 'twixt eleven and twelve ,
+I'll visit you .
+
+Our duty to your honour .
+
+Your loves , as mine to you . Farewell .
+
+My father's spirit in arms ! all is not well ;
+I doubt some foul play : would the night were come !
+Till then sit still , my soul : foul deeds will rise ,
+Though all the earth o'erwhelm them , to men's eyes .
+
+
+My necessaries are embark'd ; farewell :
+And , sister , as the winds give benefit
+And convoy is assistant , do not sleep ,
+But let me hear from you .
+
+Do you doubt that ?
+
+For Hamlet , and the trifling of his favour ,
+Hold it a fashion and a toy in blood ,
+A violet in the youth of primy nature ,
+Forward , not permanent , sweet , not lasting ,
+The perfume and suppliance of a minute ;
+No more .
+
+No more but so ?
+
+Think it no more :
+For nature , crescent , does not grow alone
+In thews and bulk ; but , as this temple waxes ,
+The inward service of the mind and soul
+Grows wide withal . Perhaps he loves you now ,
+And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch
+The virtue of his will ; but you must fear ,
+His greatness weigh'd , his will is not his own ,
+For he himself is subject to his birth ;
+He may not , as unvalu'd persons do ,
+Carve for himself , for on his choice depends
+The safety and the health of the whole state ;
+And therefore must his choice be circumscrib'd
+Unto the voice and yielding of that body
+Whereof he is the head . Then if he says he loves you ,
+It fits your wisdom so far to believe it
+As he in his particular act and place
+May give his saying deed ; which is no further
+Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal .
+Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain ,
+If with too credent ear you list his songs ,
+Or lose your heart , or your chaste treasure open
+To his unmaster'd importunity .
+Fear it , Ophelia , fear it , my dear sister ;
+And keep you in the rear of your affection ,
+Out of the shot and danger of desire .
+The chariest maid is prodigal enough
+If she unmask her beauty to the moon ;
+Virtue herself 'scapes not calumnious strokes ;
+The canker galls the infants of the spring
+Too oft before their buttons be disclos'd ,
+And in the morn and liquid dew of youth
+Contagious blastments are most imminent .
+Be wary then ; best safety lies in fear :
+Youth to itself rebels , though none else near .
+
+I shall th' effect of this good lesson keep ,
+As watchman to my heart . But , good my brother ,
+Do not , as some ungracious pastors do ,
+Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven ,
+Whiles , like a puff'd and reckless libertine ,
+Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads ,
+And recks not his own rede .
+
+O ! fear me not .
+I stay too long ; but here my father comes .
+
+
+A double blessing is a double grace ;
+
+Occasion smiles upon a second leave .
+
+Yet here , Laertes ! aboard , aboard , for shame !
+The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail ,
+And you are stay'd for . There , my blessing with thee !
+And these few precepts in thy memory
+Look thou character . Give thy thoughts no tongue ,
+Nor any unproportion'd thought his act .
+Be thou familiar , but by no means vulgar ;
+The friends thou hast , and their adoption tried ,
+Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel ;
+But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
+Of each new-hatch'd , unfledg'd comrade . Beware
+Of entrance to a quarrel , but , being in ,
+Bear 't that th' opposed may beware of thee .
+Give every man thine ear , but few thy voice ;
+Take each man's censure , but reserve thy judgment .
+Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy ,
+But not express'd in fancy ; rich , not gaudy ;
+For the apparel oft proclaims the man ,
+And they in France of the best rank and station
+Are most select and generous , chief in that .
+Neither a borrower , nor a lender be ;
+For loan oft loses both itself and friend ,
+And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry .
+This above all : to thine own self be true ,
+And it must follow , as the night the day ,
+Thou canst not then be false to any man .
+Farewell ; my blessing season this in thee !
+
+Most humbly do I take my leave , my lord .
+
+The time invites you ; go , your servants tend .
+
+Farewell , Ophelia ; and remember well
+What I have said to you .
+
+'Tis in my memory lock'd ,
+And you yourself shall keep the key of it .
+
+Farewell .
+
+
+What is 't , Ophelia , he hath said to you ?
+
+So please you , something touching the Lord Hamlet .
+
+Marry , well bethought :
+'Tis told me , he hath very oft of late
+Given private time to you ; and you yourself
+Have of your audience been most free and bounteous .
+If it be so ,as so 'tis put on me ,
+And that in way of caution ,I must tell you ,
+You do not understand yourself so clearly
+As it behoves my daughter and your honour .
+What is between you ? give me up the truth .
+
+He hath , my lord , of late made many tenders
+Of his affection to me .
+
+Affection ! pooh ! you speak like a green girl ,
+Unsifted in such perilous circumstance .
+Do you believe his tenders , as you call them ?
+
+I do not know , my lord , what I should think .
+
+Marry , I'll teach you : think yourself a baby ,
+That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay ,
+Which are not sterling . Tender yourself more dearly ;
+Or ,not to crack the wind of the poor phrase ,
+Running it thus ,you'll tender me a fool .
+
+My lord , he hath importun'd me with love
+In honourable fashion .
+
+Ay , fashion you may call it : go to , go to .
+
+And hath given countenance to his speech , my lord ,
+With almost all the holy vows of heaven .
+
+Ay , springes to catch woodcocks . I do know ,
+When the blood burns , how prodigal the soul
+Lends the tongue vows : these blazes , daughter ,
+Giving more light than heat , extinct in both ,
+Even in their promise , as it is a-making ,
+You must not take for fire . From this time
+Be somewhat scanter of your maiden presence ;
+Set your entreatments at a higher rate
+Than a command to parley . For Lord Hamlet ,
+Believe so much in him , that he is young ,
+And with a larger tether may he walk
+Than may be given you : in few , Ophelia ,
+Do not believe his vows , for they are brokers ,
+Not of that dye which their investments show ,
+But mere implorators of unholy suits ,
+Breathing like sanctified and pious bawds ,
+The better to beguile . This is for all :
+I would not , in plain terms , from this time forth ,
+Have you so slander any moment's leisure ,
+As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet .
+Look to 't , I charge you ; come your ways .
+
+I shall obey , my lord .
+
+
+The air bites shrewdly ; it is very cold .
+
+It is a nipping and an eager air .
+
+What hour now ?
+
+I think it lacks of twelve .
+
+No , it is struck .
+
+Indeed ? I heard it not : then it draws near the season
+Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk .
+
+What does this mean , my lord ?
+
+The king doth wake to-night and takes his rouse ,
+Keeps wassail , and the swaggering up-spring reels ;
+And , as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down ,
+The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out
+The triumph of his pledge .
+
+Is it a custom ?
+
+Ay , marry , is 't :
+But to my mind ,though I am native here
+And to the manner born ,it is a custom
+More honour'd in the breach than the observance .
+This heavy-headed revel east and west
+Makes us traduc'd and tax'd of other nations ;
+They clepe us drunkards , and with swinish phrase
+Soil our addition ; and indeed it takes
+From our achievements , though perform'd at height ,
+The pith and marrow of our attribute .
+So , oft it chances in particular men ,
+That for some vicious mole of nature in them ,
+As , in their birth ,wherein they are not guilty ,
+Since nature cannot choose his origin ,
+By the o'ergrowth of some complexion ,
+Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason ,
+Or by some habit that too much o'er-leavens
+The form of plausive manners ; that these men ,
+Carrying , I say , the stamp of one defect ,
+Being nature's livery , or fortune's star ,
+Their virtues else , be they as pure as grace ,
+As infinite as man may undergo ,
+Shall in the general censure take corruption
+From that particular fault : the dram of eale
+Doth all the noble substance of a doubt ,
+To his own scandal .
+
+
+Look , my lord , it comes .
+
+Angels and ministers of grace defend us !
+Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damn'd ,
+Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell ,
+Be thy intents wicked or charitable ,
+Thou com'st in such a questionable shape
+That I will speak to thee : I'll call thee Hamlet ,
+King , father ; royal Dane , O ! answer me :
+Let me not burst in ignorance ; but tell
+Why thy canoniz'd bones , hearsed in death ,
+Have burst their cerements ; why the sepulchre ,
+Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd ,
+Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws ,
+To cast thee up again . What may this mean ,
+That thou , dead corse , again in complete steel
+Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon ,
+Making night hideous ; and we fools of nature
+So horridly to shake our disposition
+With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls ?
+Say , why is this ? wherefore ? what should we do ?
+
+
+It beckons you to go away with it ,
+As if it some impartment did desire
+To you alone .
+
+Look , with what courteous action
+It waves you to a more removed ground :
+But do not go with it .
+
+No , by no means .
+
+It will not speak ; then , will I follow it .
+
+Do not , my lord .
+
+Why , what should be the fear ?
+I do not set my life at a pin's fee ;
+And for my soul , what can it do to that ,
+Being a thing immortal as itself ?
+It waves me forth again ; I'll follow it .
+
+What if it tempt you toward the flood , my lord ,
+Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff
+That beetles o'er his base into the sea ,
+And there assume some other horrible form ,
+Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason
+And draw you into madness ? think of it ;
+The very place puts toys of desperation ,
+Without more motive , into every brain
+That looks so many fathoms to the sea
+And hears it roar beneath .
+
+It waves me still . Go on , I'll follow thee .
+
+You shall not go , my lord .
+
+Hold off your hands !
+
+Be rul'd ; you shall not go .
+
+My fate cries out ,
+And makes each petty artery in this body
+As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve .
+
+Still am I call'd . Unhand me , gentlemen ,
+
+By heaven ! I'll make a ghost of him that lets me :
+I say , away ! Go on , I'll follow thee .
+
+
+He wares desperate with imagination .
+
+Let's follow ; 'tis not fit thus to obey him .
+
+Have after . To what issue will this come ?
+
+Something is rotten in the state of Denmark .
+
+Heaven will direct it .
+
+Nay , let's follow him .
+
+
+Whither wilt thou lead me ? speak ; I'll go no further .
+
+Mark me .
+
+I will .
+
+My hour is almost come ,
+When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames
+Must render up myself .
+
+Alas ! poor ghost .
+
+Pity me not , but lend thy serious hearing
+To what I shall unfold .
+
+Speak ; I am bound to hear .
+
+So art thou to revenge , when thou shalt hear .
+
+What ?
+
+I am thy father's spirit ;
+Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night ,
+And for the day confin'd to fast in fires ,
+Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature
+Are burnt and purg'd away . But that I am forbid
+To tell the secrets of my prison-house ,
+I could a tale unfold whose lightest word
+Would harrow up thy soul , freeze thy young blood ,
+Make thy two eyes , like stars , start from their spheres ,
+Thy knotted and combined locks to part ,
+And each particular hair to stand an end ,
+Like quills upon the fretful porpentine :
+But this eternal blazon must not be
+To ears of flesh and blood . List , list , O list !
+If thou didst ever thy dear father love
+
+O God !
+
+Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder .
+
+Murder !
+
+Murder most foul , as in the best it is ;
+But this most foul , strange , and unnatural .
+
+Haste me to know't , that I , with wings as swift
+As meditation or the thoughts of love ,
+May sweep to my revenge .
+
+I find thee apt ;
+And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed
+That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf ,
+Wouldst thou not stir in this . Now , Hamlet , hear :
+'Tis given out that , sleeping in mine orchard ,
+A serpent stung me ; so the whole ear of Denmark
+Is by a forged process of my death
+Rankly abus'd ; but know , thou noble youth ,
+The serpent that did sting thy father's life
+Now wears his crown .
+
+O my prophetic soul !
+My uncle !
+
+Ay , that incestuous , that adulterate beast ,
+With witchcraft of his wit , with traitorous gifts ,
+O wicked wit and gifts , that have the power
+So to seduce !won to his shameful lust
+The will of my most seeming-virtuous queen .
+O Hamlet ! what a falling-off was there ;
+From me , whose love was of that dignity
+That it went hand in hand even with the vow
+I made to her in marriage ; and to decline
+Upon a wretch whose natural gifts were poor
+To those of mine !
+But virtue , as it never will be mov'd ,
+Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven ,
+So lust , though to a radiant angel link'd ,
+Will sate itself in a celestial bed ,
+And prey on garbage .
+But , soft ! methinks I scent the morning air ;
+Brief let me be . Sleeping within mine orchard ,
+My custom always in the afternoon ,
+Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole ,
+With juice of cursed hebona in a vial ,
+And in the porches of mine ears did pour
+The leperous distilment ; whose effect
+Holds such an enmity with blood of man
+That swift as quicksilver it courses through
+The natural gates and alleys of the body ,
+And with a sudden vigour it doth posset
+And curd , like eager droppings into milk ,
+The thin and wholesome blood : so did it mine ;
+And a most instant tetter bark'd about ,
+Most lazar-like , with vile and loathsome crust ,
+All my smooth body .
+Thus was I , sleeping , by a brother's hand ,
+Of life , of crown , of queen , at once dispatch'd ;
+Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin ,
+Unhousel'd , disappointed , unanel'd ,
+No reckoning made , but sent to my account
+With all my imperfections on my head :
+O , horrible ! O , horrible ! most horrible !
+If thou hast nature in thee , bear it not ;
+Let not the royal bed of Denmark be
+A couch for luxury and damned incest .
+But , howsoever thou pursu'st this act ,
+Taint not thy mind , nor let thy soul contrive
+Against thy mother aught ; leave her to heaven ,
+And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge ,
+To prick and sting her . Fare thee well at once !
+The glow-worm shows the matin to be near ,
+And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire ;
+Adieu , adieu ! Hamlet , remember me .
+
+
+O all you host of heaven ! O earth ! What else ?
+And shall I couple hell ? O fie ! Hold , hold , my heart !
+And you , my sinews , grow not instant old ,
+But bear me stiffly up ! Remember thee !
+Ay , thou poor ghost , while memory holds a seat
+In this distracted globe . Remember thee !
+Yea , from the table of my memory
+I'll wipe away all trivial fond records ,
+All saws of books , all forms , all pressures past ,
+That youth and observation copied there ;
+And thy commandment all alone shall live
+Within the book and volume of my brain ,
+Unmix'd with baser matter : yes , by heaven !
+O most pernicious woman !
+O villain , villain , smiling , damned villain !
+My tables ,meet it is I set it down ,
+That one may smile , and smile , and be a villain ;
+At least I'm sure it may be so in Denmark :
+
+So , uncle , there you are . Now to my word ;
+It is , 'Adieu , adieu ! remember me .
+I have sworn 't .
+
+My lord ! my lord !
+
+Lord Hamlet !
+
+Heaven secure him !
+
+So be it !
+
+Hillo , ho , ho , my lord !
+
+Hillo , ho , ho , boy ! come , bird , come .
+
+
+How is't , my noble lord ?
+
+What news , my lord ?
+
+O ! wonderful .
+
+Good my lord , tell it .
+
+No ; you will reveal it .
+
+Not I , my lord , by heaven !
+
+Nor I , my lord .
+
+How say you , then ; would heart of man once think it ?
+But you'll be secret ?
+
+Ay , by heaven , my lord .
+
+Ay , by heaven , my lord .
+
+There's ne'er a villain dwelling in all Denmark ,
+But he's an arrant knave .
+
+There needs no ghost , my lord , come from the grave ,
+To tell us this .
+
+Why , right ; you are i' the right ;
+And so , without more circumstance at all ,
+I hold it fit that we shake hands and part ;
+You , as your business and desire shall point you ,
+For every man hath business and desire ,
+Such as it is ,and , for mine own poor part ,
+Look you , I'll go pray .
+
+These are but wild and whirling words , my lord .
+
+I am sorry they offend you , heartily ;
+Yes , faith , heartily .
+
+There's no offence , my lord .
+
+Yes , by Saint Patrick , but there is , Horatio ,
+And much offence , too . Touching this vision here ,
+It is an honest ghost , that let me tell you ;
+For your desire to know what is between us ,
+O'ermaster't as you may . And now , good friends ,
+As you are friends , scholars , and soldiers ,
+Give me one poor request .
+
+What is't , my lord ? we will .
+
+Never make known what you have seen to-night .
+
+My lord , we will not .
+
+My lord , we will not .
+
+Nay , but swear't .
+
+In faith ,
+My lord , not I .
+
+Nor I , my lord , in faith .
+
+Upon my sword .
+
+We have sworn , my lord , already .
+
+Indeed , upon my sword , indeed .
+
+Swear .
+
+Ah , ha , boy ! sayst thou so ? art thou there , true-penny ?
+Come on ,you hear this fellow in the cellar-age ,
+Consent to swear .
+
+Propose the oath , my lord .
+
+Never to speak of this that you have seen ,
+Swear by my sword .
+
+Swear .
+
+Hic et ubique ? then we'll shift our ground .
+Come hither , gentlemen ,
+And lay your hands again upon my sword :
+Never to speak of this that you have heard ,
+Swear by my sword .
+
+Swear .
+
+Well said , old mole ! canst work i' the earth so fast ?
+A worthy pioner ! once more remove , good friends .
+
+O day and night , but this is wondrous strange !
+
+And therefore as a stranger give it welcome .
+There are more things in heaven and earth , Horatio ,
+Than are dreamt of in your philosophy .
+But come ;
+Here , as before , never , so help you mercy ,
+How strange or odd soe'er I bear myself ,
+As I perchance hereafter shall think meet
+To put an antic disposition on ,
+That you , at such times seeing me , never shall ,
+With arms encumber'd thus , or this head-shake ,
+Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase ,
+As , 'Well , well , we know ,' or , 'We could , an if we would ;'
+Or , 'If we list to speak ,' or , 'There be , an if they might ;'
+Or such ambiguous giving out , to note
+That you know aught of me : this not to do ,
+So grace and mercy at your most need help you ,
+Swear .
+
+Swear .
+
+
+Rest , rest , perturbed spirit ! So , gentlemen ,
+With all my love I do commend me to you :
+And what so poor a man as Hamlet is
+May do , to express his love and friending to you ,
+God willing , shall not lack . Let us go in together ;
+And still your fingers on your lips , I pray .
+The time is out of joint ; O cursed spite ,
+That ever I was born to set it right !
+Nay , come , let's go together .
+
+Give him this money and these notes , Reynaldo .
+
+I will , my lord .
+
+You shall do marvellous wisely , good Reynaldo ,
+Before you visit him , to make inquiry
+Of his behaviour .
+
+My lord , I did intend it .
+
+Marry , well said , very well said . Look you , sir ,
+Inquire me first what Danskers are in Paris ;
+And how , and who , what means , and where they keep ,
+What company , at what expense ; and finding
+By this encompassment and drift of question
+That they do know my son , come you more nearer
+Than your particular demands will touch it :
+Take you , as 'twere , some distant knowledge of him ;
+As thus , 'I know his father , and his friends ,
+And , in part , him ;' do you mark this , Reynaldo ?
+
+Ay , very well , my lord .
+
+'And , in part , him ; but ,' you may say , 'not well :
+But if't be he I mean , he's very wild ,
+Addicted so and so ;' and there put on him
+What forgeries you please ; marry , none so rank
+As may dishonour him ; take heed of that ;
+But , sir , such wanton , wild , and usual slips
+As are companions noted and most known
+To youth and liberty .
+
+As gaming , my lord ?
+
+Ay , or drinking , fencing , swearing , quarrelling ,
+Drabbing ; you may go so far .
+
+My lord , that would dishonour him .
+
+Faith , no ; as you may season it in the charge .
+You must not put another scandal on him ,
+That he is open to incontinency ;
+That's not my meaning ; but breathe his faults so quaintly
+That they may seem the taints of liberty ,
+The flash and outbreak of a fiery mind ,
+A savageness in unreclaimed blood ,
+Of general assault .
+
+But , my good lord ,
+
+Wherefore should you do this ?
+
+Ay , my lord ,
+I would know that .
+
+Marry , sir , here's my drift ;
+And , I believe , it is a fetch of warrant :
+You laying these slight sullies on my son ,
+As 'twere a thing a little soil'd i' the working ,
+Mark you ,
+Your party in converse , him you would sound ,
+Having ever seen in the prenominate crimes
+The youth you breathe of guilty , be assur'd ,
+He closes with you in this consequence ;
+'Good sir ,' or so ; or 'friend ,' or 'gentleman ,'
+According to the phrase or the addition
+Of man and country .
+
+Very good , my lord .
+
+And then , sir , does he this ,he does ,what was I about to say ? By the mass I was about to say something : where did I leave ?
+
+At 'closes in the consequence .'
+At 'friend or so ,' and 'gentleman .'
+
+At 'closes in the consequence ,' ay , marry ;
+He closes with you thus : 'I know the gentleman ;
+I saw him yesterday , or t' other day ,
+Or then , or then ; with such , or such ; and , as you say ,
+There was a' gaming ; there o'ertook in 's rouse ;
+There falling out at tennis ;' or perchance ,
+'I saw him enter such a house of sale ,'
+Videlicet , a brothel , or so forth .
+See you now ;
+Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth ;
+And thus do we of wisdom and of reach ,
+With windlasses , and with assays of bias ,
+By indirections find directions out :
+So by my former lecture and advice
+Shall you my son . You have me , have you not ?
+
+My lord , I have .
+
+God be wi' you ; fare you well .
+
+Good my lord !
+
+Observe his inclination in yourself .
+
+I shall , my lord .
+
+And let him ply his music .
+
+Well , my lord .
+
+Farewell !
+
+
+How now , Ophelia ! what's the matter ?
+
+Alas ! my lord , I have been so affrighted .
+
+With what , in the name of God ?
+
+My lord , as I was sewing in my closet ,
+Lord Hamlet , with his doublet all unbrac'd ;
+No hat upon his head ; his stockings foul'd ,
+Ungarter'd , and down-gyved to his ancle ;
+Pale as his shirt ; his knees knocking each other ;
+And with a look so piteous in purport
+As if he had been loosed out of hell
+To speak of horrors , he comes before me .
+
+Mad for thy love ?
+
+My lord , I do not know ;
+But truly I do fear it .
+
+What said he ?
+
+He took me by the wrist and held me hard ,
+Then goes he to the length of all his arm ,
+And , with his other hand thus o'er his brow ,
+He falls to such perusal of my face
+As he would draw it . Long stay'd he so ;
+At last , a little shaking of mine arm ,
+And thrice his head thus waving up and down ,
+He rais'd a sigh so piteous and profound
+That it did seem to shatter all his bulk
+And end his being . That done , he lets me go ,
+And , with his head over his shoulder turn'd ,
+He seem'd to find his way without his eyes ;
+For out o' doors he went without their help ,
+And to the last bended their light on me .
+
+Come , go with me ; I will go seek the king .
+This is the very ecstasy of love ,
+Whose violent property fordoes itself
+And leads the will to desperate undertakings
+As oft as any passion under heaven
+That does afflict our natures . I am sorry .
+What ! have you given him any hard words of late ?
+
+No , my good lord ; but , as you did command ,
+I did repel his letters and denied
+His access to me .
+
+That hath made him mad .
+I am sorry that with better heed and judgment
+I had not quoted him ; I fear'd he did but trifle ,
+And meant to wrack thee ; but , beshrew my jealousy !
+By heaven , it is as proper to our age
+To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions
+As it is common for the younger sort
+To lack discretion . Come , go we to the king :
+This must be known ; which , being kept close , might move
+More grief to hide than hate to utter love .
+Come .
+
+
+Welcome , dear Rosencrantz and Guildenstern !
+Moreover that we much did long to see you ,
+The need we have to use you did provoke
+Our hasty sending . Something have you heard
+Of Hamlet's transformation ; so I call it ,
+Since nor the exterior nor the inward man
+Resembles that it was . What it should be
+More than his father's death , that thus hath put him
+So much from the understanding of himself ,
+I cannot dream of : I entreat you both ,
+That , being of so young days brought up with him ,
+And since so neighbour'd to his youth and humour ,
+That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court
+Some little time ; so by your companies
+To draw him on to pleasures , and to gather ,
+So much as from occasion you may glean ,
+Whe'r aught to us unknown afflicts him thus ,
+That , open'd , lies within our remedy .
+
+Good gentlemen , he hath much talk'd of you ;
+And sure I am two men there are not living
+To whom he more adheres . If it will please you
+To show us so much gentry and good will
+As to expend your time with us awhile ,
+For the supply and profit of our hope ,
+Your visitation shall receive such thanks
+As fits a king's remembrance .
+
+Both your majesties
+Might , by the sovereign power you have of us ,
+Put your dread pleasures more into command
+Than to entreaty .
+
+But we both obey ,
+And here give up ourselves , in the full bent ,
+To lay our service freely at your feet ,
+To be commanded .
+
+Thanks , Rosencrantz and gentle Guildenstern .
+
+Thanks , Guildenstern and gentle Rosencrantz ;
+And I beseech you instantly to visit
+My too much changed son . Go , some of you ,
+And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is .
+
+Heavens make our presence , and our practices
+Pleasant and helpful to him !
+
+Ay , amen !
+
+The ambassadors from Norway , my good lord ,
+Are joyfully return'd .
+
+Thou still hast been the father of good news .
+
+Have I , my lord ? Assure you , my good liege ,
+I hold my duty , as I hold my soul ,
+Both to my God and to my gracious king ;
+And I do think or else this brain of mine
+Hunts not the trail of policy so sure
+As it hath us'd to do that I have found
+The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy .
+
+O ! speak of that ; that do I long to hear .
+
+Give first admittance to the ambassadors ;
+My news shall be the fruit to that great feast .
+
+Thyself do grace to them , and bring them in .
+
+He tells me , my sweet queen , that he hath found
+The head and source of all your son's distemper .
+
+I doubt it is no-other but the main ;
+His father's death , and our o'erhasty marriage .
+
+Well , we shall sift him .
+
+
+Welcome , my good friends !
+
+Say , Voltimand , what from our brother Norway ?
+
+Most fair return of greetings , and desires .
+Upon our first , he sent out to suppress
+His nephew's levies , which to him appear'd
+To be a preparation 'gainst the Polack ;
+But , better look'd into , he truly found
+It was against your highness : whereat griev'd ,
+That so his sickness , age , and impotence
+Was falsely borne in hand , sends out arrests
+On Fortinbras ; which he , in brief , obeys ,
+Receives rebuke from Norway , and , in fine ,
+Makes vow before his uncle never more
+To give the assay of arms against your majesty .
+Whereon old Norway , overcome with joy ,
+Gives him three thousand crowns in annual fee ,
+And his commission to employ those soldiers ,
+So levied as before , against the Polack ;
+With an entreaty , herein further shown ,
+
+That it might please you to give quiet pass
+Through your dominions for this enterprise ,
+On such regards of safety and allowance
+As therein are set down .
+
+It likes us well ;
+And at our more consider'd time we'll read ,
+Answer , and think upon this business :
+Meantime we thank you for your well-took labour .
+Go to your rest ; at night we'll feast together :
+Most welcome home .
+
+
+This business is well ended .
+My liege , and madam , to expostulate
+What majesty should be , what duty is ,
+Why day is day , night night , and time is time ,
+Were nothing but to waste night , day , and time .
+Therefore , since brevity is the soul of wit ,
+And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes ,
+I will be brief . Your noble son is mad :
+Mad call I it ; for , to define true madness ,
+What is 't but to be nothing else but mad ?
+But let that go .
+
+More matter , with less art .
+
+Madam , I swear I use no art at all .
+That he is mad , 'tis true ; 'tis true 'tis pity ;
+And pity 'tis 'tis true : a foolish figure ;
+But farewell it , for I will use no art .
+Mad let us grant him , then ; and now remains
+That we find out the cause of this effect ,
+Or rather say , the cause of this defect ,
+For this effect defective comes by cause ;
+Thus it remains , and the remainder thus .
+Perpend .
+I have a daughter , have while she is mine ;
+Who , in her duty and obedience , mark ,
+Hath given me this : now , gather , and surmise .
+"To the celestial , and my soul's idol , the most beautified Ophelia ."
+That's an ill phrase , a vile phrase ; 'beautified'
+is a vile phrase ; but you shall hear . Thus :
+In her excellent white bosom , these , &c .
+
+Came this from Hamlet to her ?
+
+Good madam , stay awhile ; I will be faithful .
+
+"Doubt thou the stars are fire ;
+Doubt that the sun doth move ;
+Doubt truth to be a liar ;
+But never doubt I love .
+
+O dear Ophelia ! I am ill at these numbers : I have not art to reckon my groans ; but that I love thee best , O most best ! believe it . Adieu .
+Thine evermore , most dear lady , whilst this machine is to him ,HAMLET ."
+
+This in obedience hath my daughter shown me ;
+And more above , hath his solicitings ,
+As they fell out by time , by means , and place ,
+All given to mine ear .
+
+But how hath she
+Receiv'd his love ?
+
+What do you think of me ?
+
+As of a man faithful and honourable .
+
+I would fain prove so . But what might you think ,
+When I had seen this hot love on the wing ,
+As I perceiv'd it , I must tell you that ,
+Before my daughter told me ,what might you ,
+Or my dear majesty , your queen here , think ,
+If I had play'd the desk or table-book ,
+Or given my heart a winking , mute and dumb ,
+Or look'd upon this love with idle sight ;
+What might you think ? No , I went round to work ,
+And my young mistress thus I did bespeak :
+'Lord Hamlet is a prince , out of thy star ;
+This must not be :' and then I precepts gave her ,
+That she should lock herself from his resort ,
+Admit no messengers , receive no tokens .
+Which done , she took the fruits of my advice ;
+And he , repulsed ,a short tale to make ,
+Fell into a sadness , then into a fast ,
+Thence to a watch , thence into a weakness ,
+Thence to a lightness ; and by this declension
+Into the madness wherein now he raves ,
+And all we wail for .
+
+Do you think 'tis this ?
+
+It may be , very likely .
+
+Hath there been such a time ,I'd fain know that ,
+That I have positively said , ''Tis so ,'
+When it prov'd otherwise ?
+
+Not that I know .
+
+Take this from this , if this be otherwise :
+
+If circumstances lead me , I will find
+Where truth is hid , though it were hid indeed
+Within the centre .
+
+How may we try it further ?
+
+You know sometimes he walks four hours together
+Here in the lobby .
+
+So he does indeed .
+
+At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him ;
+Be you and I behind an arras then ;
+Mark the encounter ; if he love her not ,
+And be not from his reason fallen thereon ,
+Let me be no assistant for a state ,
+But keep a farm , and carters .
+
+We will try it .
+
+But look , where sadly the poor wretch comes reading .
+
+Away ! I do beseech you , both away .
+I'll board him presently .
+
+O ! give me leave .
+
+How does my good Lord Hamlet ?
+
+Well , God a-mercy .
+
+Do you know me , my lord ?
+
+Excellent well ; you are a fishmonger .
+
+Not I , my lord .
+
+Then I would you were so honest a man .
+
+Honest , my lord !
+
+Ay , sir ; to be honest , as this world goes , is to be one man picked out of ten thousand .
+
+That's very true , my lord .
+
+For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog , being a good kissing carrion ,Have you a daughter ?
+
+I have , my lord .
+
+Let her not walk i' the sun : conception is a blessing ; but not as your daughter may conceive . Friend , look to 't .
+
+How say you by that ? Still harping on my daughter : yet he knew me not at first ; he said I was a fishmonger : he is far gone , far gone : and truly in my youth I suffered much extremity for love ; very near this . I'll speak to him again . What do you read , my lord ?
+
+Words , words , words .
+
+What is the matter , my lord ?
+
+Between who ?
+
+I mean the matter that you read , my lord .
+
+Slanders , sir : for the satirical rogue says here that old men have grey beards , that their faces are wrinkled , their eyes purging thick amber and plum-tree gum , and that they have a plentiful lack of wit , together with most weak hams : all which , sir , though I most powerfully and potently believe , yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down ; for you yourself , sir , should be old as I am , if , like a crab , you could go backward .
+
+Though this be madness , yet there is method in 't . Will you walk out of the air , my lord ?
+
+Into my grave ?
+
+Indeed , that is out o' the air .
+
+How pregnant sometimes his replies are ! a happiness that often madness hits on , which reason and sanity could not so prosperously be delivered of . I will leave him , and suddenly contrive the means of meeting between him and my daughter . My honourable lord , I will most humbly take my leave of you .
+
+You cannot , sir , take from me any thing that I will more willingly part withal ; except my life , except my life , except my life .
+
+Fare you well , my lord .
+
+
+These tedious old fools !
+
+
+You go to seek the Lord Hamlet ; there he is .
+
+God save you , sir !
+
+
+Mine honoured lord !
+
+My most dear lord !
+
+My excellent good friends ! How dost thou , Guildenstern ? Ah , Rosencrantz ! Good lads , how do ye both ?
+
+As the indifferent children of the earth .
+
+Happy in that we are not over happy ; On Fortune's cap we are not the very button .
+
+Nor the soles of her shoe ?
+
+Neither , my lord .
+
+Then you live about her waist , or in the middle of her favours ?
+
+Faith , her privates we .
+
+In the secret parts of Fortune ? O ! most true ; she is a strumpet . What news ?
+
+None , my lord , but that the world's grown honest .
+
+Then is doomsday near ; but your news is not true . Let me question more in particular : what have you , my good friends , deserved at the hands of Fortune , that she sends you to prison hither ?
+
+Prison , my lord !
+
+Denmark's a prison .
+
+Then is the world one .
+
+A goodly one ; in which there are many confines , wards , and dungeons , Denmark being one o' the worst .
+
+We think not so , my lord .
+
+Why , then , 'tis none to you ; for there is nothing either good or bad , but thinking makes it so : to me it is a prison .
+
+Why , then your ambition makes it one ; 'tis too narrow for your mind .
+
+O God ! I could be bounded in a nutshell , and count myself a king of infinite space , were it not that I have bad dreams .
+
+Which dreams , indeed , are ambition , for the very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream .
+
+A dream itself is but a shadow .
+
+Truly , and I hold ambition of so airy and light a quality that it is but a shadow's shadow .
+
+Then are our beggars bodies , and our monarchs and outstretched heroes the beggars' shadows . Shall we to the court ? for , by my fay , I cannot reason .
+
+We'll wait upon you .
+
+We'll wait upon you .
+
+No such matter ; I will not sort you with the rest of my servants , for , to speak to you like an honest man , I am most dreadfully attended . But , in the beaten way of friendship , what make you at Elsinore ?
+
+To visit you , my lord ; no other occasion .
+
+Beggar that I am , I am even poor in thanks ; but I thank you : and sure , dear friends , my thanks are too dear a halfpenny . Were you not sent for ? Is it your own inclining ? Is it a free visitation ? Come , come , deal justly with me : come , come ; nay , speak .
+
+What should we say , my lord ?
+
+Why anything , but to the purpose . You were sent for ; and there is a kind of confession in your looks which your modesties have not craft enough to colour : I know the good king and queen have sent for you .
+
+To what end , my lord ?
+
+That you must teach me . But let me conjure you , by the rights of our fellowship , by the consonancy of our youth , by the obligation of our ever-preserved love , and by what more dear a better proposer could charge you withal , be even and direct with me , whether you were sent for or no !
+
+What say you ?
+
+Nay , then , I have an eye of you . If you love me , hold not off .
+
+My lord , we were sent for .
+
+I will tell you why ; so shall my anticipation prevent your discovery , and your secrecy to the king and queen moult no feather . I have of late ,but wherefore I know not ,lost all my mirth , forgone all custom of exercises ; and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame , the earth , seems to me a sterile promontory ; this most excellent canopy , the air , look you , this brave o'erhanging firmament , this majestical roof fretted with golden fire , why , it appears no other thing to me but a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours . What a piece of work is a man ! How noble in reason ! how infinite in faculty ! in form , in moving , how express and admirable ! in action how like an angel ! in apprehension how like a god ! the beauty of the world ! the paragon of animals ! And yet , to me , what is this quintessence of dust ? man delights not me ; no , nor woman neither , though , by your smiling , you seem to say so .
+
+My lord , there was no such stuff in my thoughts .
+
+Why did you laugh then , when I said , 'man delights not me ?'
+
+To think , my lord ; if you delight not in man , what lenten entertainment the players shall receive from you : we coted them on the way ; and hither are they coming , to offer you service .
+
+He that plays the king shall be welcome ; his majesty shall have tribute of me ; the adventurous knight shall use his foil and target ; the lover shall not sigh gratis ; the humorous man shall end his part in peace ; the clown shall make those laugh whose lungs are tickle o' the sere ; and the lady shall say her mind freely , or the blank verse shall halt for't . What players are they ?
+
+Even those you were wont to take delight in , the tragedians of the city .
+
+How chances it they travel ? their residence , both in reputation and profit , was better both ways .
+
+I think their inhibition comes by the means of the late innovation .
+
+Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was in the city ? Are they so followed ?
+
+No , indeed they are not .
+
+How comes it ? Do they grow rusty ?
+
+Nay , their endeavour keeps in the wonted pace : but there is , sir , an aery of children , little eyases , that cry out on the top of question , and are most tyrannically clapped for't : these are now the fashion , and so berattle the common stages ,so they call them ,that many wearing rapiers are afraid of goose-quills , and dare scarce come thither .
+
+What ! are they children ? who maintains 'em ? how are they escoted ? Will they pursue the quality no longer than they can sing ? will they not say afterwards , if they should grow themselves to common players ,as it is most like , if their means are no better ,their writers do them wrong , to make them exclaim against their own succession ?
+
+Faith , there has been much to-do on both sides : and the nation holds it no sin to tarre them to controversy : there was , for a while , no money bid for argument , unless the poet and the player went to cuffs in the question .
+
+Is it possible ?
+
+O ! there has been much throwing about of brains .
+
+Do the boys carry it away ?
+
+Ay , that they do , my lord ; Hercules and his load too .
+
+It is not very strange ; for my uncle is King of Denmark , and those that would make mows at him while my father lived , give twenty , forty , fifty , a hundred ducats a-piece for his picture in little . 'Sblood , there is something in this more than natural , if philosophy could find it out .
+
+
+There are the players .
+
+Gentlemen , you are welcome to Elsinore . Your hands , come then ; the appurtenance of welcome is fashion and ceremony : let me comply with you in this garb , lest my extent to the players which , I tell you , must show fairly outward should more appear like entertainment than yours . You are welcome ; but my uncle-father and aunt-mother are deceived .
+
+In what , my dear lord ?
+
+I am but mad north-north-west : when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw .
+
+
+Well be with you , gentlemen !
+
+Hark you , Guildenstern ; and you too ; at each ear a hearer : that great baby you see there is not yet out of his swaddling-clouts .
+
+Happily he's the second time come to them ; for they say an old man is twice a child .
+
+I will prophesy he comes to tell me of the players ; mark it . You say right , sir ; o' Monday morning ; 'twas so indeed .
+
+My lord , I have news to tell you .
+
+My lord , I have news to tell you . When Roscius was an actor in Rome ,
+
+The actors are come hither , my lord .
+
+Buzz , buzz !
+
+Upon my honour ,
+
+Then came each actor on his ass ,
+
+The best actors in the world , either for tragedy , comedy , history , pastoral , pastoral-comical , historical-pastoral , tragical-historical , tragical-comical-historical-pastoral , scene individable , or poem unlimited : Seneca cannot be too heavy , nor Plautus too light . For the law of writ and the liberty , these are the only men .
+
+O Jephthah , judge of Israel , what a treasure hadst thou !
+
+What a treasure had he , my lord ?
+
+Why
+
+One fair daughter and no more ,
+The which he loved passing well .
+
+
+Still on my daughter .
+
+Am I not i' the right , old Jephthah ?
+
+If you call me Jephthah , my lord , I have a daughter that I love passing well .
+
+Nay , that follows not .
+
+What follows , then , my lord ?
+
+Why ,
+As by lot , God wot .
+And then , you know ,
+It came to pass , as most like it was .
+The first row of the pious chanson will show you more ; for look where my abridgment comes .
+
+You are welcome , masters ; welcome , all . I am glad to see thee well : welcome , good friends . O , my old friend ! Thy face is valanced since I saw thee last : comest thou to beard me in Denmark ? What ! my young lady and mistress ! By 'r lady , your ladyship is nearer heaven than when I saw you last , by the altitude of a chopine . Pray God , your voice , like a piece of uncurrent gold , be not cracked within the ring . Masters , you are all welcome . We'll e'en to't like French falconers , fly at anything we see : we'll have a speech straight . Come , give us a taste of your quality ; come , a passionate speech .
+
+What speech , my good lord ?
+
+I heard thee speak me a speech once , but it was never acted ; or , if it was , not above once ; for the play , I remember , pleased not the million ; 'twas caviare to the general : but it was as I received it , and others , whose judgments in such matters cried in the top of mine an excellent play , well digested in the scenes , set down with as much modesty as cunning . I remember one said there were no sallets in the lines to make the matter savoury , nor no matter in the phrase that might indict the author of affectation ; but called it an honest method , as wholesome as sweet , and by very much more handsome than fine . One speech in it I chiefly loved ; 'twas neas' tale to Dido ; and thereabout of it especially , where he speaks of Priam's slaughter . If it live in your memory , begin at this line : let me see , let me see :
+Therugged Pyrrhus , like the Hyrcanian beast ,
+'tis not so , it begins with Pyrrhus :
+The rugged Pyrrhus , he whose sable arm ,
+Black as his purpose , did the night resemble
+When he lay couched in the ominous horse ,
+Hath now this dread and black complexion smear'd
+With heraldry more dismal ; head to foot
+Now is he total gules ; horridly trick'd
+With blood of fathers , mothers , daughters , sons ,
+Bak'd and impasted with the parching streets ,
+That lend a tyrannous and damned light
+To their vile murders : rousted in wrath and fire ,
+And thus o'er-sized with coagulate gore ,
+With eyes like carbuncles , the hellish Pyrrhus
+Old grandsire Priam seeks .
+So proceed you .
+
+'Fore God , my lord , well spoken ; with good accent and good discretion .
+
+Anon , he finds him
+Striking too short at Greeks ; his antique sword ,
+Rebellious to his arm , lies where it falls ,
+Repugnant to command . Unequal match'd ,
+Pyrrhus at Priam drives ; in rage strikes wide ;
+But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword
+The unnerved father falls . Then senseless Ilium ,
+Seeming to feel this blow , with flaming top
+Stoops to his base , and with a hideous crash
+Takes prisoner Pyrrhus' ear : for lo ! his sword ,
+Which was declining on the milky head
+Of rever end Priam , seem'd i' the air to stick :
+So , as a painted tyrant , Pyrrhus stood ,
+And like a neutral to his will and matter ,
+Did nothing .
+But , as we often see , against some storm ,
+A silence in the heavens , the rack stand still ,
+The bold winds speechless and the orb below
+As hush as death , anon the dreadful thunder
+Doth rend the region ; so , after Pyrrhus' pause ,
+Aroused vengeance sets him new a-work ;
+And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall
+On Mars's armour , forg'd for proof eterne ,
+With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword
+Now falls on Priam .
+Out , out , thou strumpet , Fortune ! All you gods ,
+In general synod , take away her power ;
+Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel ,
+And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven ,
+As low as to the fiends !
+
+This is too long .
+
+It shall to the barber's , with your beard . Prithee , say on : he's for a jig or a tale of bawdry , or he sleeps . Say on ; come to Hecuba .
+
+But who , O ! who had seen the mobled queen
+
+'The mobled queen ?'
+
+That's good ; 'mobled queen' is good .
+
+Run barefoot up and down , threat'ning the flames
+With bisson rheum ; a clout upon that head
+Where late the diadem stood ; and , for a robe ,
+About her lank and all o'er-teemed loins ,
+A blanket , in the alarm of fear caught up ;
+Who this had seen , with tongue in venom steep'd ,
+'Gainst Fortune's state would treason have pronounc'd :
+But if the gods themselves did see her then ,
+When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport
+In mincing with his sword her husband's limbs ,
+The instant burst of clamour that she made
+Unless things mortal move them not at all
+Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven ,
+And passion in the gods .
+
+Look ! wh'er he has not turned his colour and has tears in's eyes . Prithee , no more .
+
+'Tis well ; I'll have thee speak out the rest soon . Good my lord , will you see the players well bestowed ? Do you hear , let them be well used ; for they are the abstracts and brief chronicles of the time : after your death you were better have a bad epitaph than their ill report while you live .
+
+My lord , I will use them according to their desert .
+
+God's bodikins , man , much better ; use every man after his desert , and who should 'scape whipping ? Use them after your own honour and dignity : the less they deserve , the more merit is in your bounty . Take them in .
+
+Come , sirs .
+
+Follow him , friends : we'll hear a play to-morrow .
+
+Dost thou hear me , old friend ; can you play the Murder of Gonzago ?
+
+Ay , my lord .
+
+We'll ha't to-morrow night . You could , for a need , study a speech of some dozen or sixteen lines , which I would set down and insert in't , could you not ?
+
+Ay , my lord .
+
+Very well . Follow that lord ; and look you mock him not .
+
+My good friends , I'll leave you till night ; you are welcome to Elsinore .
+
+Good my lord !
+
+
+Ay , so , God be wi' ye ! Now I am alone .
+O ! what a rogue and peasant slave am I :
+Is it not monstrous that this player here ,
+But in a fiction , in a dream of passion ,
+Could force his soul so to his own conceit
+That from her working all his visage wann'd ,
+Tears in his eyes , distraction in 's aspect ,
+A broken voice , and his whole function suiting
+With forms to his conceit ? and all for nothing !
+For Hecuba !
+What 's Hecuba to him or he to Hecuba
+That he should weep for her ? What would he do
+Had he the motive and the cue for passion
+That I have ? He would drown the stage with tears ,
+And cleave the general ear with horrid speech ,
+Make mad the guilty and appal the free ,
+Confound the ignorant , and amaze indeed
+The very faculties of eyes and ears .
+Yet I ,
+A dull and muddy-mettled rascal , peak ,
+Like John-a-dreams , unpregnant of my cause ,
+And can say nothing ; no , not for a king ,
+Upon whose property and most dear life
+A damn'd defeat was made . Am I a coward ?
+Who calls me villain ? breaks my pate across ?
+Plucks off my beard and blows it in my face ?
+Tweaks me by the nose ? gives me the lie i' the throat ,
+As deep as to the lungs ? Who does me this ?
+Ha !
+Swounds , I should take it , for it cannot be
+But I am pigeon-liver'd , and lack gall
+To make oppression bitter , or ere this
+I should have fatted all the region kites
+With this slave's offal . Bloody , bawdy villain !
+Remorseless , treacherous , lecherous , kindless villain !
+O ! vengeance !
+Why , what an ass am I ! This is most brave
+That I , the son of a dear father murder'd ,
+Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell ,
+Must , like a whore , unpack my heart with words ,
+And fall a-cursing , like a very drab ,
+A scullion !
+Fie upon't ! foh ! About , my brain ! I have heard ,
+That guilty creatures sitting at a play
+Have by the very cunning of the scene
+Been struck so to the soul that presently
+They have proclaim'd their malefactions ;
+For murder , though it have no tongue , will speak
+With most miraculous organ . I'll have these players
+Play something like the murder of my father
+Before mine uncle ; I'll observe his looks ;
+I'll tent him to the quick : if he but blench
+I know my course . The spirit that I have seen
+May be the devil : and the devil hath power
+To assume a pleasing shape ; yea , and perhaps
+Out of my weakness and my melancholy
+As he is very potent with such spirits
+Abuses me to damn me . I'll have grounds
+More relative than this : the play 's the thing
+Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king .
+
+And can you , by no drift of circumstance ,
+Get from him why he puts on this confusion ,
+Grating so harshly all his days of quiet
+With turbulent and dangerous lunacy ?
+
+He does confess he feels himself distracted ;
+But from what cause he will by no means speak .
+
+Nor do we find him forward to be sounded ,
+But , with a crafty madness , keeps aloof ,
+When we would bring him on to some confession
+Of his true state .
+
+Did he receive you well ?
+
+Most like a gentleman .
+
+But with much forcing of his disposition .
+
+Niggard of question , but of our demands
+Most free in his reply .
+
+Did you assay him
+To any pastime ?
+
+Madam , it so fell out that certain players
+We o'er-raught on the way ; of these we told him ,
+And there did seem in him a kind of joy
+To hear of it : they are about the court ,
+And , as I think , they have already order
+This night to play before him .
+
+'Tis most true ;
+And he beseech'd me to entreat your majesties
+To hear and see the matter .
+
+With all my heart ; and it doth much content me
+To hear him so inclin'd .
+Good gentlemen , give him a further edge ,
+And drive his purpose on to these delights .
+
+We shall , my lord .
+
+
+Sweet Gertrude , leave us too ;
+For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither ,
+That he , as 'twere by accident , may here
+Affront Ophelia .
+Her father and myself , lawful espials ,
+Will so bestow ourselves , that , seeing , unseen ,
+We may of their encounter frankly judge ,
+And gather by him , as he is behav'd ,
+If 't be the affliction of his love or no
+That thus he suffers for .
+
+I shall obey you .
+And for your part , Ophelia , I do wish
+That your good beauties be the happy cause
+Of Hamlet's wildness ; so shall I hope your virtues
+Will bring him to his wonted way again ,
+To both your honours .
+
+Madam , I wish it may .
+
+
+Ophelia , walk you here . Gracious , so please you ,
+We will bestow ourselves .
+
+Read on this book ;
+That show of such an exercise may colour
+Your loneliness . We are oft to blame in this ,
+'Tis too much prov'd , that with devotion's visage
+And pious action we do sugar o'er
+The devil himself .
+
+O ! 'tis too true ;
+How smart a lash that speech doth give my conscience !
+The harlot's cheek , beautied with plastering art ,
+Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it
+Than is my deed to my most painted word :
+O heavy burden !
+
+I hear him coming ; let's withdraw , my lord .
+
+To be , or not to be : that is the question :
+Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
+The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune ,
+Or to take arms against a sea of troubles ,
+And by opposing end them ? To die : to sleep ;
+No more ; and , by a sleep to say we end
+The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
+That flesh is heir to , 'tis a consummation
+Devoutly to be wish'd . To die , to sleep ;
+To sleep : perchance to dream : ay , there's the rub ;
+For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
+When we have shuffled off this mortal coil ,
+Must give us pause . There's the respect
+That makes calamity of so long life ;
+For who would bear the whips and scorns of time ,
+The oppressor's wrong , the proud man's contumely ,
+The pangs of dispriz'd love , the law's delay ,
+The insolence of office , and the spurns
+That patient merit of the unworthy takes ,
+When he himself might his quietus make
+With a bare bodkin ? who would fardels bear ,
+To grunt and sweat under a weary life ,
+But that the dread of something after death ,
+The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
+No traveller returns , puzzles the will ,
+And makes us rather bear those ills we have
+Than fly to others that we know not of ?
+Thus conscience does make cowards of us all ;
+And thus the native hue of resolution
+Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought ,
+And enterprises of great pith and moment
+With this regard their currents turn awry ,
+And lose the name of action . Soft you now !
+The fair Ophelia ! Nymph , in thy orisons
+Be all my sins remember'd .
+
+Good my lord ,
+How does your honour for this many a day ?
+
+I humbly thank you ; well , well , well .
+
+My lord , I have remembrances of yours ,
+That I have longed long to re-deliver ;
+I pray you , now receive them .
+
+No , not I ;
+I never gave you aught .
+
+My honour'd lord , you know right well you did ;
+And , with them , words of so sweet breath compos'd
+As made the things more rich : their perfume lost ,
+Take these again ; for to the noble mind
+Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind .
+There , my lord .
+
+Ha , ha ! are you honest ?
+
+My lord !
+
+Are you fair ?
+
+What means your lordship ?
+
+That if you be honest and fair , your honesty should admit no discourse to your beauty .
+
+Could beauty , my lord , have better commerce than with honesty ?
+
+Ay , truly ; for the power of beauty will sooner transform honesty from what it is to a bawd than the force of honesty can translate beauty into his likeness : this was sometime a paradox , but now the time gives it proof . I did love thee once .
+
+Indeed , my lord , you made me believe so .
+
+You should not have believed me ; for virtue cannot so inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of it : I loved you not .
+
+I was the more deceived .
+
+Get thee to a nunnery : why wouldst thou be a breeder of sinners ? I am myself indifferent honest ; but yet I could accuse me of such things that it were better my mother had not borne me . I am very proud , revengeful , ambitious ; with more offences at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in , imagination to give them shape , or time to act them in . What should such fellows as I do crawling between heaven and earth ? We are arrant knaves , all ; believe none of us . Go thy ways to a nunnery . Where's your father ?
+
+At home , my lord .
+
+Let the doors be shut upon him , that he may play the fool nowhere but in's own house . Farewell .
+
+O ! help him , you sweet heavens !
+
+If thou dost marry , I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry : be thou as chaste as ice , as pure as snow , thou shalt not escape calumny . Get thee to a nunnery , go ; farewell . Or , if thou wilt needs marry , marry a fool ; for wise men know well enough what monsters you make of them . To a nunnery , go ; and quickly too . Farewell .
+
+O heavenly powers , restore him !
+
+I have heard of your paintings too , well enough ; God hath given you one face , and you make yourselves another : you jig , you amble , and you lisp , and nickname God's creatures , and make your wantonness your ignorance . Go to , I'll no more on't ; it hath made me mad . I say , we will have no more marriages ; those that are married already , all but one , shall live ; the rest shall keep as they are . To a nunnery , go .
+
+
+O ! what a noble mind is here o'erthrown :
+The courtier's , soldier's , scholar's , eye , tongue , sword ;
+The expectancy and rose of the fair state ,
+The glass of fashion and the mould of form ,
+The observ'd of all observers , quite , quite down !
+And I , of ladies most deject and wretched ,
+That suck'd the honey of his music vows ,
+Now see that noble and most sovereign reason ,
+Like sweet bells jangled , out of tune and harsh ;
+That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth
+Blasted with ecstasy : O ! woe is me ,
+To have seen what I have seen , see what I see !
+
+
+Love ! his affections do not that way tend ;
+Nor what he spake , though it lack'd form a little ,
+Was not like madness . There's something in his soul
+O'er which his melancholy sits on brood ;
+And , I do doubt , the hatch and the disclose
+Will be some danger ; which for to prevent ,
+I have in quick determination
+Thus set it down : he shall with speed to England ,
+For the demand of our neglected tribute :
+Haply the seas and countries different
+With variable objects shall expel
+This something-settled matter in his heart ,
+Whereon his brains still beating puts him thus
+From fashion of himself . What think you on't ?
+
+It shall do well : but yet do I believe
+The origin and commencement of his grief
+Sprung from neglected love . How now , Ophelia !
+You need not tell us what Lord Hamlet said ;
+We heard it all . My lord , do as you please ;
+But , if you hold it fit , after the play ,
+Let his queen mother all alone entreat him
+To show his griefs : let her be round with him ;
+And I'll be plac'd , so please you , in the ear
+Of all their conference . If she find him not ,
+To England send him , or confine him where
+Your wisdom best shall think .
+
+It shall be so :
+Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd go .
+
+
+Speak the speech , I pray you , as I pronounced it to you , trippingly on the tongue ; but if you mouth it , as many of your players do , I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines . Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand , thus ; but use all gently : for in the very torrent , tempest , and as I may say whirlwind of passion , you must acquire and beget a temperance , that may give it smoothness . O ! it offends me to the soul to hear a robustious periwigpated fellow tear a passion to tatters , to very rage , to split the ears of the groundlings , who for the most part are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb-shows and noise : I would have such a fellow whipped for o'er-doing Termagant ; it out-herods Herod : pray you , avoid it .
+
+I warrant your honour .
+
+Be not too tame neither , but let your own discretion be your tutor : suit the action to the word , the word to the action ; with this special observance , that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature ; for anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing , whose end , both at the first and now , was and is , to hold , as 'twere , the mirror up to nature ; to show virtue her own feature , scorn her own image , and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure . Now , this overdone , or come tardy off , though it make the unskilful laugh , cannot but make the judicious grieve ; the censure of which one must in your allowance o'erweigh a whole theatre of others . O ! there be players that I have seen play , and heard others praise , and that highly , not to speak it profanely , that , neither having the accent of Christians nor the gait of Christian , pagan , nor man , have so strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of nature's journeymen had made men and not made them well , they imitated humanity so abominably .
+
+I hope we have reformed that indifferently with us .
+
+O ! reform it altogether . And let those that play your clowns speak no more than is set down for them ; for there be of them that will themselves laugh , to set on some quantity of barren spectators to laugh too , though in the mean time some necessary question of the play be then to be considered ; that's villanous , and shows a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it . Go , make you ready .
+
+
+How now , my lord ! will the king hear this piece of work ?
+
+And the queen too , and that presently .
+
+Bid the players make haste .
+
+Will you two help to hasten them ?
+
+We will , my lord .
+
+We will , my lord .
+
+
+What , ho ! Horatio !
+
+
+Here , sweet lord , at your service .
+
+Horatio , thou art e'en as just a man
+As e'er my conversation cop'd withal .
+
+O ! my dear lord ,
+
+Nay , do not think I flatter ;
+For what advancement may I hope from thee ,
+That no revenue hast but thy good spirits
+To feed and clothe thee ? Why should the poor be flatter'd ?
+No ; let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp ,
+And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee
+Where thrift may follow fawning . Dost thou hear ?
+Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice
+And could of men distinguish , her election
+Hath seal'd thee for herself ; for thou hast been
+As one , in suffering all , that suffers nothing ,
+A man that fortune's buffets and rewards
+Hast ta'en with equal thanks ; and bless'd are those
+Whose blood and judgment are so well comingled
+That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger
+To sound what stop she please . Give me that man
+That is not passion's slave , and I will wear him
+In my heart's core , ay , in my heart of heart ,
+As I do thee . Something too much of this .
+There is a play to-night before the king ;
+One scene of it comes near the circumstance
+Which I have told thee of my father's death :
+I prithee , when thou seest that act afoot ,
+Even with the very comment of thy soul
+Observe mine uncle ; if his occulted guilt
+Do not itself unkennel in one speech ,
+It is a damned ghost that we have seen ,
+And my imaginations are as foul
+As Vulcan's stithy . Give him heedful note ;
+For I mine eyes will rivet to his face ,
+And after we will both our judgments join
+In censure of his seeming .
+
+Well , my lord :
+If he steal aught the whilst this play is playing ,
+And 'scape detecting , I will pay the theft .
+
+They are coming to the play ; I must be idle :
+Get you a place .
+
+How fares our cousin Hamlet ?
+
+Excellent , i' faith ; of the chameleon's dish : I eat the air , promise-crammed ; you cannot feed capons so .
+
+I have nothing with this answer , Hamlet ; these words are not mine .
+
+No , nor mine now .
+
+My lord , you played once i' the university , you say ?
+
+That did I , my lord , and was accounted a good actor .
+
+And what did you enact ?
+
+I did enact Julius C sar : I was killed i' the Capitol ; Brutus killed me .
+
+It was a brute part of him to kill so capital a calf there . Be the playcrs ready ?
+
+Ay , my lord ; they stay upon your patience .
+
+Come hither , my good Hamlet , sit by me .
+
+No , good mother , here's metal more attractive .
+
+O ho ! do you mark that ?
+
+Lady , shall I lie in your lap ?
+
+
+No , my lord .
+
+I mean , my head upon your lap ?
+
+Ay , my lord .
+
+Do you think I meant country matters ?
+
+I think nothing , my lord .
+
+That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs .
+
+What is , my lord ?
+
+Nothing .
+
+You are merry , my lord .
+
+Who , I ?
+
+Ay , my lord .
+
+O God , your only jig-maker . What should a man do but be merry ? for , look you , how cheerfully my mother looks , and my father died within's two hours .
+
+Nay , 'tis twice two months , my lord .
+
+So long ? Nay , then , let the devil wear black , for I'll have a suit of sables . O heavens ! die two months ago , and not forgotten yet ? Then there's hope a great man's memory may outlive his life half a year ; but , by'r lady , he must build churches then , or else shall he suffer not thinking on , with the hobby-horse , whose epitaph is , 'For , O ! for , O ! the hobby-horse is forgot .'
+
+
+What means this , my lord ?
+
+Marry , this is miching mallecho ; it means mischief .
+
+Belike this show imports the argument of the play .
+
+
+We shall know by this fellow : the players cannot keep counsel ; they'll tell all .
+
+Will he tell us what this show meant ?
+
+Ay , or any show that you'll show him ; be not you ashamed to show , he'll not shame to tell you what it means .
+
+You are naught , you are naught . I'll mark the play .
+
+
+For us and for our tragedy ,
+Here stooping to your clemency ,
+We beg your hearing patiently .
+
+
+Is this a prologue , or the posy of a ring ?
+
+'Tis brief , my lord .
+
+As woman's love .
+
+
+Full thirty times hath Ph bus' cart gone round
+Neptune's salt wash and Tellus' orbed ground ,
+And thirty dozen moons with borrow'd sheen
+About the world have times twelve thirties been ,
+Since love our hearts and Hymen did our hands
+Unite commutual in most sacred bands .
+
+So many journeys may the sun and moon
+Make us again count o'er ere love be done !
+But , woe is me ! you are so sick of late ,
+So far from cheer and from your former state ,
+That I distrust you . Yet , though I distrust ,
+Discomfort you , my lord , it nothing must ;
+For women's fear and love holds quantity ,
+In neither aught , or in extremity .
+Now , what my love is , proof hath made you know ;
+And as my love is siz'd , my fear is so .
+Where love is great , the littlest doubts are fear ;
+Where little fears grow great , great love grows there .
+
+Faith , I must leave thee , love , and shortly too ;
+My operant powers their functions leave to do :
+And thou shall live in this fair world behind ,
+Honour'd , belov'd ; and haply one as kind
+For husband shalt thou
+
+O ! confound the rest ;
+Such love must needs be treason in my breast :
+In second husband let me be accurst :
+None wed the second but who kill'd the first .
+
+Wormwood , wormwood .
+
+The instances that second marriage move ,
+Are base respects of thrift , but none of love ;
+A second time I kill my husband dead ,
+When second husband kisses me in bed .
+
+I do believe you think what now you speak ;
+But what we do determine oft we break .
+Purpose is but the slave to memory ,
+Of violent birth , but poor validity ;
+Which now , like fruit unripe , sticks on the tree ,
+But fall unshaken when they mellow be .
+Most necessary 'tis that we forget
+To pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt ;
+What to ourselves in passion we propose ,
+The passion ending , doth the purpose lose .
+The violence of either grief or joy
+Their own enactures with themselves destroy ;
+Where joy most revels grief doth most lament ,
+Grief joys , joy grieves , on slender accident .
+This world is not for aye , nor 'tis not strange ,
+That even our love should with our fortunes change ;
+For 'tis a question left us yet to prove
+Whe'r love lead fortune or else fortune love .
+The great man down , you mark his favourite flies ;
+The poor advanc'd makes friends of enemies .
+And hitherto doth love on fortune tend ,
+For who not needs shall never lack a friend ;
+And who in want a hollow friend doth try
+Directly seasons him his enemy .
+But , orderly to end where I begun ,
+Our wills and fates do so contrary run
+That our devices still are overthrown ,
+Our thoughts are ours , their ends none of our own :
+So think thou wilt no second husband wed ;
+But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead
+
+Nor earth to me give food , nor heaven light !
+Sport and repose lock from me day and night !
+To desperation turn my trust and hope !
+An anchor's cheer in prison be my scope !
+Each opposite that blanks the face of joy
+Meet what I would have well , and it destroy !
+Both here and hence pursue me lasting strife ,
+If , once a widow , ever I be wife !
+
+If she should break it now !
+
+'Tis deeply sworn . Sweet , leave me here awhile ;
+My spirits grow dull , and fain I would beguile
+The tedious day with sleep .
+
+
+Sleep rock thy brain ;
+And never come mischance between us twain !
+
+
+Madam , how like you this play ?
+
+The lady doth protest too much , methinks .
+
+O ! but she'll keep her word .
+
+Have you heard the argument ? Is there no offence in 't ?
+
+No , no , they do but jest , poison in jest ; no offence i' the world .
+
+What do you call the play ?
+
+The Mouse-trap . Marry , how ? Tropically . This play is the image of a murder done in Vienna : Gonzago is the duke's name ; his wife , Baptista . You shall see anon ; 'tis a knavish piece of work : but what of that ? your majesty and we that have free souls , it touches us not : let the galled jade wince , our withers are unwrung .
+
+This is one Lucianus , nephew to the king .
+
+You are a good chorus , my lord .
+
+I could interpret between you and your love , if I could see the puppets dallying .
+
+You are keen , my lord , you are keen .
+
+It would cost you a groaning to take off my edge .
+
+Still better , and worse .
+
+So you must take your husbands . Begin , murderer ; pox , leave thy damnable faces , and begin . Come ; the croaking raven doth bellow for revenge .
+
+Thoughts black , hands apt , drugs fit , and time agreeing ;
+Confederate season , else no creature seeing ;
+Thou mixture rank , of midnight weeds collected ,
+With Hecate's ban thrice blasted , thrice infected ,
+Thy natural magic and dire property ,
+On wholesome life usurp immediately .
+
+
+He poisons him i' the garden for's estate . Hisname's Gonzago ; the story is extant , and writ in very choice Italian . You shall see anon how the murderer gets the love of Gonzago's wife .
+
+The king rises .
+
+What ! frighted with false fire ?
+
+How fares my lord ?
+
+Give o'er the play .
+
+Give me some light : away !
+
+Lights , lights , lights !
+
+Why , let the stricken deer go weep ,
+The hart ungalled play ;
+For some must watch , while some must sleep :
+So runs the world away .
+
+Would not this , sir , and a forest of feathers , if the rest of my fortunes turn Turk with me , with two Provincial roses on my razed shoes , get me a fellowship in a cry of players , sir ?
+
+Half a share .
+
+A whole one , I .
+
+For thou dost know , O Damon dear ,
+This realm dismantled was
+Of Jove himself ; and now reigns here
+A very , very pajock .
+
+
+You might have rimed .
+
+O good Horatio ! I'll take the ghost's word for a thousand pound . Didst perceive ?
+
+Very well , my lord .
+
+Upon the talk of the poisoning ?
+
+I did very well note him .
+
+Ah , ha ! Come , some music ! come , the recorders !
+
+For if the king like not the comedy ,
+Why then , belike he likes it not , perdy .
+
+Come , some music !
+
+
+Good my lord , vouchsafe me a word with you .
+
+Sir , a whole history .
+
+The king , sir ,
+
+Ay , sir , what of him ?
+
+Is in his retirement marvellous distempered .
+
+With drink , sir ?
+
+No , my lord , rather with choler .
+
+Your wisdom should show itself more richer to signify this to his doctor ; for , for me to put him to his purgation would perhaps plunge him into far more choler .
+
+Good my lord , put your discourse into some frame , and start not so wildly from my affair .
+
+I am tame , sir ; pronounce .
+
+The queen , your mother , in most great affliction of spirit , hath sent me to you .
+
+You are welcome .
+
+Nay , good my lord , this courtesy is not of the right breed . If it shall please you to make me a wholesome answer , I will do your mother's commandment ; if not , your pardon and my return shall be the end of my business .
+
+Sir , I cannot .
+
+What , my lord ?
+
+Make you a wholesome answer ; my wit's diseased ; but , sir , such answer as I can make , you shall command ; or , rather , as you say , my mother : therefore no more , but to the matter : my mother , you say ,
+
+Then , thus she says : your behaviour hath struck her into amasement and admiration .
+
+O wonderful son , that can so astonish a mother ! But is there no sequel at the heels of this mother's admiration ? Impart .
+
+She desires to speak with you in her closet ere you go to bed .
+
+We shall obey , were she ten times our mother . Have you any further trade with us ?
+
+My lord , you once did love me .
+
+So I do still , by these pickers and stealers .
+
+Good my lord , what is your cause of distemper ? you do surely bar the door upon your own liberty , if you deny your griefs to your friend .
+
+Sir , I lack advancement .
+
+How can that be when you have the voice of the king himself for your succession in Denmark ?
+
+Ay , sir , but 'While the grass grows ,' the proverb is something musty .
+
+O ! the recorders : let me see one . To withdraw with you : why do you go about to recover the wind of me , as if you would drive me into a toil ?
+
+O ! my lord , if my duty be too bold , my love is too unmannerly .
+
+I do not well understand that . Will you play upon this pipe ?
+
+My lord , I cannot .
+
+I pray you .
+
+Believe me , I cannot .
+
+I do beseech you .
+
+I know no touch of it , my lord .
+
+'Tis as easy as lying ; govern these ventages with your finger and thumb , give it breath with your mouth , and it will discourse most eloquent music . Look you , these are the stops .
+
+But these cannot I command to any utterance of harmony ; I have not the skill .
+
+Why , look you now , how unworthy a thing you make of me . You would play upon me ; you would seem to know my stops ; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery ; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass ; and there is much music , excellent voice , in this little organ , yet cannot you make it speak . 'Sblood , do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe ? Call me what instrument you will , though you can fret me , you cannot play upon me .
+
+God bless you , sir !
+
+My lord , the queen would speak with you , and presently .
+
+Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a camel ?
+
+By the mass , and 'tis like a camel , indeed .
+
+Methinks it is like a weasel .
+
+It is backed like a weasel .
+
+Or like a whale ?
+
+Very like a whale .
+
+Then I will come to my mother by and by
+
+They fool me to the top of my bent . [Aloud .] I will come by and by .
+
+I will say so .
+
+
+By and by is easily said . Leave me , friends .
+
+'Tis now the very witching time of night ,
+When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out
+Contagion to this world : now could I drink hot blood ,
+And do such bitter business as the day
+Would quake to look on . Soft ! now to my mother .
+O heart ! lose not thy nature ; let not ever
+The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom ;
+Let me be cruel , not unnatural ;
+I will speak daggers to her , but use none ;
+My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites ;
+How in my words soever she be shent ,
+To give them seals never , my soul , consent !
+
+
+I like him not , nor stands it safe with us
+To let his madness range . Therefore prepare you ;
+I your commission will forth with dispatch ,
+And he to England shall along with you .
+The terms of our estate may not endure
+Hazard so dangerous as doth hourly grow
+Out of his lunacies .
+
+We will ourselves provide .
+Most holy and religious fear it is
+To keep those many many bodies safe
+That live and feed upon your majesty .
+
+The single and peculiar life is bound
+With all the strength and armour of the mind
+To keep itself from noyance ; but much more
+That spirit upon whose weal depend and rest
+The lives of many . The cease of majesty
+Dies not alone , but , like a gulf doth draw
+What's near it with it ; it is a massy wheel ,
+Fix'd on the summit of the highest mount ,
+To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things
+Are mortis'd and adjoin'd ; which , when it falls ,
+Each small annexment , petty consequence ,
+Attends the boisterous ruin . Never alone
+Did the king sigh , but with a general groan .
+
+Arm you , I pray you , to this speedy voyage ;
+For we will fetters put upon this fear ,
+Which now goes too free-footed .
+
+We will haste us .
+
+We will haste us .
+
+My lord , he's going to his mother's closet :
+Behind the arras I'll convey myself
+To hear the process ; I'll warrant she'll tax him home ;
+And , as you said , and wisely was it said ,
+'Tis meet that some more audience than a mother ,
+Since nature makes them partial , should o'erhear
+The speech , of vantage . Fare you well , my liege :
+I'll call upon you ere you go to bed
+And tell you what I know .
+
+Thanks , dear my lord .
+
+O ! my offence is rank , it smells to heaven ;
+It hath the primal eldest curse upon't ;
+A brother's murder ! Pray can I not ,
+Though inclination be as sharp as will :
+My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent ;
+And , like a man to double business bound ,
+I stand in pause where I shall first begin ,
+And both neglect . What if this cursed hand
+Were thicker than itself with brother's blood ,
+Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens
+To wash it white as snow ? Whereto serves mercy
+But to confront the visage of offence ?
+And what's in prayer but this two-fold force ,
+To be forestalled , ere we come to fall ,
+Or pardon'd , being down ? Then , I'll look up ;
+My fault is past . But , O ! what form of prayer
+Can serve my turn ? 'Forgive me my foul murder ?'
+That cannot be ; since I am still possess'd
+Of those effects for which I did the murder ,
+My crown , mine own ambition , and my queen .
+May one be pardon'd and retain the offence ?
+In the corrupted currents of this world
+Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice ,
+And oft 'tis seen the wicked prise itself
+Buys out the law ; but 'tis not so above ;
+There is no shuffling , there the action lies
+In his true nature , and we ourselves compell'd
+Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults
+To give in evidence . What then ? what rests ?
+Try what repentance can : what can it not ?
+Yet what can it , when one can not repent ?
+O wretched state ! O bosom black as death !
+O limed soul , that struggling to be free
+Art more engaged ! Help , angels ! make assay ;
+Bow , stubborn knees ; and heart with strings of steel
+Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe .
+All may be well .
+
+Now might I do it pat , now he is praying ;
+And now I'll do't : and so he goes to heaven ;
+And so am I reveng'd . That would be scann'd :
+A villain kills my father ; and for that ,
+I , his sole son , do this same villain send
+To heaven .
+Why , this is hire and salary , not revenge .
+He took my father grossly , full of bread ,
+With all his crimes broad blown , as flush as May ;
+And how his audit stands who knows save heaven ?
+But in our circumstance and course of thought
+'Tis heavy with him . And am I then reveng'd ,
+To take him in the purging of his soul ,
+When he is fit and season'd for his passage ?
+No .
+Up , sword , and know thou a more horrid hent ;
+When he is drunk asleep , or in his rage ,
+Or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed ,
+At gaming , swearing , or about some act
+That has no relish of salvation in't ;
+Then trip him , that his heels may kick at heaven ,
+And that his soul may be as damn'd and black
+As hell , whereto it goes . My mother stays :
+This physic but prolongs thy sickly days .
+
+My words fly up , my thoughts remain below :
+Words without thoughts never to heaven go .
+
+
+He will come straight . Look you lay home to him ;
+Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with ,
+And that your Grace hath screen'd and stood between
+Much heat and him . I'll silence me e'en here .
+Pray you , be round with him .
+
+Mother , mother , mother !
+
+I'll warrant you ;
+Fear me not . Withdraw , I hear him coming .
+
+
+Now , mother , what's the matter ?
+
+Hamlet , thou hast thy father much offended .
+
+Mother , you have my father much offended .
+
+Come , come , you answer with an idle tongue .
+
+Go , go , you question with a wicked tongue .
+
+Why , how now , Hamlet !
+
+What's the matter now ?
+
+Have you forgot me ?
+
+No , by the rood , not so :
+You are the queen , your husband's brother's wife ;
+And ,would it were not so !you are my mother .
+
+Nay then , I'll set those to you that can speak .
+
+Come , come , and sit you down ; you shall not budge ;
+You go not , till I set you up a glass
+Where you may see the inmost part of you .
+
+What wilt thou do ? thou wilt not murder me ?
+Help , help , ho !
+
+What , ho ! help ! help ! help !
+
+How now ! a rat ? Dead , for a ducat , dead !
+
+
+O ! I am slain .
+
+O me ! what hast thou done ?
+
+Nay , I know not : is it the king ?
+
+O ! what a rash and bloody deed is this !
+
+A bloody deed ! almost as bad , good mother ,
+As kill a king , and marry with his brother .
+
+As kill a king !
+
+Ay , lady , 'twas my word .
+
+Thou wretched , rash , intruding fool , farewell !
+I took thee for thy better ; take thy fortune ;
+Thou find'st to be too busy is some danger .
+Leave wringing of your hands : peace ! sit you down ,
+And let me wring your heart ; for so I shall
+If it be made of penetrable stuff ,
+If damned custom have not brass'd it so
+That it is proof and bulwark against sense
+
+What have I done that thou dar'st wag thy tongue
+In noise so rude against me ?
+
+Such an act
+That blurs the grace and blush of modesty ,
+Calls virtue hypocrite , takes off the rose
+From the fair forehead of an innocent love
+And sets a blister there , makes marriage vows
+As false as dicers' oaths ; O ! such a deed
+As from the body of contraction plucks
+The very soul , and sweet religion makes
+A rhapsody of words ; heaven's face doth glow ,
+Yea , this solidity and compound mass ,
+With tristful visage , as against the doom ,
+Is thought-sick at the act .
+
+Ay me ! what act ,
+That roars so loud and thunders in the index ?
+
+Look here , upon this picture , and on this ;
+The counterfeit presentment of two brothers .
+See , what a grace was seated on this brow ;
+Hyperion's curls , the front of Jove himself ,
+An eye like Mars , to threaten and command ,
+A station like the herald Mercury
+New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill ,
+A combination and a form indeed ,
+Where every god did seem to set his seal ,
+To give the world assurance of a man .
+This was your husband : look you now , what follows .
+Here is your husband ; like a mildew'd ear ,
+Blasting his wholesome brother . Have you eyes ?
+Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed ,
+And batten on this moor ? Ha ! have you eyes ?
+You cannot call it love , for at your age
+The hey-day in the blood is tame , it's humble ,
+And waits upon the judgment ; and what judgment
+Would step from this to this ? Sense , sure , you have ,
+Else could you not have motion ; but sure , that sense
+Is apoplex'd ; for madness would not err ,
+Nor sense to ecstasy was ne'er so thrall'd
+But it reserv'd some quantity of choice ,
+To serve in such a difference . What devil was 't
+That thus hath comen'd you at hoodman-blind ?
+Eyes without feeling , feeling without sight ,
+Ears without hands or eyes , smelling sans all ,
+Or but a sickly part of one true sense
+Could not so mope .
+O shame ! where is thy blush ? Rebellious hell ,
+If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones ,
+To flaming youth let virtue be as wax ,
+And melt in her own fire : proclaim no shame
+When the compulsive ardour gives the charge ,
+Since first itself as actively doth burn ,
+And reason panders will .
+
+O Hamlet ! speak no more ;
+Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul ;
+And there I see such black and grained spots
+As will not leave their tinct .
+
+Nay , but to live
+In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed ,
+Stew'd in corruption , honeying and making love
+Over the nasty sty ,
+
+O ! speak to me no more ;
+These words like daggers enter in mine ears ;
+No more , sweet Hamlet !
+
+A murderer , and a villain ;
+A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe
+Of your precedent lord ; a vice of kings ;
+A cut-purse of the empire and the rule ,
+That from a shelf the precious diadem stole ,
+And put it in his pocket !
+
+No more !
+
+A king of shreds and patches ,
+
+
+Save me , and hover o'er me with your wings ,
+
+You heavenly guards ! What would your gracious figure ?
+
+Alas ! he's mad !
+
+Do you not come your tardy son to chide ,
+That , laps'd in time and passion , lets go by
+The important acting of your dread command ?
+O ! say .
+
+Do not forget : this visitation
+Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose .
+But , look ! amazement on thy mother sits ;
+O ! step between her and her fighting soul ;
+Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works :
+Speak to her , Hamlet .
+
+How is it with you , lady ?
+
+Alas ! how is't with you ,
+That you do bend your eye on vacancy
+And with the incorporal air do hold discourse ?
+Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep ;
+And , as the sleeping soldiers in the alarm ,
+Your bedded hair , like life in excrements ,
+Starts up and stands an end . O gentle son !
+Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper
+Sprinkle cool patience . Whereon do you look ?
+
+On him , on him ! Look you , how pale he glares !
+His form and cause conjoin'd , preaching to stones ,
+Would make them capable . Do not look upon me ;
+Lest with this piteous action you convert
+My stern effects : then what I have to do
+Will want true colour ; tears perchance for blood .
+
+To whom do you speak this ?
+
+Do you see nothing there ?
+
+Nothing at all ; yet all that is I see .
+
+Nor did you nothing hear ?
+
+No , nothing but ourselves .
+
+Why , look you there ! look , how it steals away ;
+My father , in his habit as he liv'd ;
+Look ! where he goes , even now , out at the portal .
+
+
+This is the very coinage of your brain :
+This bodiless creation ecstasy
+Is very cunning in .
+
+Ecstasy !
+My pulse , as yours , doth temperately keep time ,
+And makes as healthful music . It is not madness
+That I have utter'd : bring me to the test ,
+And I the matter will re-word , which madness
+Would gambol from . Mother , for love of grace ,
+Lay not that flattering unction to your soul ,
+That not your trespass but my madness speaks ;
+It will but skin and film the ulcerous place ,
+Whiles rank corruption , mining all within ,
+Infects unseen . Confess yourself to heaven ;
+Repent what's past ; avoid what is to come ;
+And do not spread the compost on the weeds
+To make them ranker . Forgive me this my virtue ;
+For in the fatness of these pursy times
+Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg ,
+Yea , curb and woo for leave to do him good .
+
+O Hamlet ! thou hast cleft my heart in twain .
+
+O ! throw away the worser part of it ,
+And live the purer with the other half .
+Good night ; but go not to mine uncle's bed ;
+Assume a virtue , if you have it not .
+That monster , custom , who all sense doth eat ,
+Of habits devil , is angel yet in this ,
+That to the use of actions fair and good
+He likewise gives a frock or livery ,
+That aptly is put on . Refrain to-night ;
+And that shall lend a kind of easiness
+To the next abstinence : the next more easy ;
+For use almost can change the stamp of nature ,
+And master ev'n the devil or throw him out
+With wondrous potency . Once more , goodnight :
+And when you are desirous to be bless'd ,
+I'll blessing beg of you . For this same lord ,
+
+I do repent : but heaven hath pleas'd it so ,
+To punish me with this , and this with me ,
+That I must be their scourge and minister .
+I will bestow him , and will answer well
+The death I gave him . So , again , good-night .
+I must be cruel only to be kind :
+Thus bad begins and worse remains behind .
+One word more , good lady .
+
+What shall I do ?
+
+Not this , by no means , that I bid you do :
+Let the bloat king tempt you again to bed ;
+Pinch wanton on your cheek ; call you his mouse ;
+And let him , for a pair of reechy kisses ,
+Or paddling in your neck with his damn'd fingers ,
+Make you to ravel all this matter out ,
+That I essentially am not in madness ,
+But mad in craft . 'Twere good you let him know ;
+For who that's but a queen , fair , sober , wise ,
+Would from a paddock , from a bat , a gib ,
+Such dear concernings hide ? who would do so ?
+No , in despite of sense and secrecy ,
+Unpeg the basket on the house's top ,
+Let the birds fly , and , like the famous ape ,
+To try conclusions , in the basket creep ,
+And break your own neck down .
+
+Be thou assur'd , if words be made of breath ,
+And breath of life , I have no life to breathe
+What thou hast said to me .
+
+I must to England ; you know that ?
+
+Alack !
+I had forgot : 'tis so concluded on .
+
+There's letters seal'd ; and my two schoolfellows ,
+Whom I will trust as I will adders fang'd ,
+They bear the mandate ; they must sweep my way ,
+And marshal me to knavery . Let it work ;
+For 'tis the sport to have the enginer
+Hoist with his own petar : and it shall go hard
+But I will delve one yard below their mines ,
+And blow them at the moon . O ! 'tis most sweet ,
+When in one line two crafts directly meet .
+This man shall set me packing ;
+I'll lug the guts into the neighbour room .
+Mother , good-night . Indeed this counsellor
+Is now most still , most secret , and most grave ,
+Who was in life a foolish prating knave .
+Come , sir , to draw toward an end with you .
+Good-night , mother .
+
+There's matter in these sighs , these profound heaves :
+You must translate ; 'tis fit we understand them .
+Where is your son ?
+
+Bestow this place on us a little while .
+
+Ah ! my good lord , what have I seen to-night .
+
+What , Gertrude ? How does Hamlet ?
+
+Mad as the sea and wind , when both contend
+Which is the mightier . In his lawless fit ,
+Behind the arras hearing something stir ,
+Whips out his rapier , cries , 'A rat ! a rat !'
+And , in his brainish apprehension , kills
+The unseen good old man .
+
+O heavy deed !
+It had been so with us had we been there .
+His liberty is full of threats to all ;
+To you yourself , to us , to every one .
+Alas ! how shall this bloody deed be answer'd ?
+It will be laid to us , whose providence
+Should have kept short , restrain'd , and out of haunt ,
+This mad young man : but so much was our love ,
+We would not understand what was most fit ,
+But , like the owner of a foul disease ,
+To keep it from divulging , let it feed
+Even on the pith of life . Where is he gone ?
+
+To draw apart the body he hath kill'd ;
+O'er whom his very madness , like some ore
+Among a mineral of metals base ,
+Shows itself pure : he weeps for what is done .
+
+O Gertrude ! come away .
+The sun no sooner shall the mountains touch
+But we will ship him hence ; and this vile deed
+We must , with all our majesty and skill ,
+Both countenance and excuse . Ho ! Guildenstern !
+
+
+Friends both , go join you with some further aid :
+Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain ,
+And from his mother's closet hath he dragg'd him :
+Go seek him out ; speak fair , and bring the body
+Into the chapel . I pray you , haste in this .
+
+Come , Gertrude , we'll call up our wisest friends ;
+And let them know both what we mean to do ,
+And what's untimely done : so , haply , slander ,
+Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter ,
+As level as the cannon to his blank
+Transports his poison'd shot , may miss our name ,
+And hit the woundless air . O ! come away ;
+My soul is full of discord and dismay .
+
+Safely stowed .
+
+Hamlet ! Lord Hamlet !
+
+Hamlet ! Lord Hamlet !
+
+What noise ? who calls on Hamlet ?
+O ! here they come .
+
+
+What have you done , my lord , with the dead body ?
+
+Compounded it with dust , whereto 'tis kin .
+
+Tell us where 'tis , that we may take it thence
+And bear it to the chapel .
+
+Do not believe it .
+
+Believe what ?
+
+That I can keep your counsel and not mine own . Besides , to be demanded of a sponge ! what replication should be made by the son of a king ?
+
+Take you me for a sponge , my lord ?
+
+Ay , sir , that soaks up the king's countenance , his rewards , his authorities . But such officers do the king best service in the end : he keeps them , like an ape , in the corner of his jaw ; first mouthed , to be last swallowed : when he needs what you have gleaned , it is but squeezing you , and , sponge , you shall be dry again .
+
+I understand you not , my lord .
+
+I am glad of it : a knavish speech sleeps in a foolish ear .
+
+My lord , you must tell us where the body is , and go with us to the king .
+
+The body is with the king , but the king is not with the body . The king is a thing
+
+A thing , my lord !
+
+Of nothing : bring me to him . Hide fox , and all after .
+
+
+I have sent to seek him , and to find the body .
+How dangerous is it that this man goes loose !
+Yet must not we put the strong law on him :
+He's lov'd of the distracted multitude ,
+Who like not in their judgment , but their eyes ;
+And where 'tis so , the offender's scourge is weigh'd ,
+But never the offence . To bear all smooth and even ,
+This sudden sending him away must seem
+Deliberate pause : diseases desperate grown
+By desperate appliance are reliev'd ,
+Or not at all .
+
+How now ! what hath befall'n ?
+
+Where the dead body is bestow'd , my lord ,
+We cannot get from him .
+
+But where is he ?
+
+Without , my lord ; guarded , to know your pleasure .
+
+Bring him before us .
+
+Ho , Guildenstern ! bring in my lord .
+
+
+Now , Hamlet , where's Polonius ?
+
+At supper .
+
+At supper ! Where ?
+
+Not where he eats , but where he is eaten : a certain convocation of politic worms are e'en at him . Your worm is your only emperor for diet : we fat all creatures else to fat us , and we fat ourselves for maggots : your fat king and your lean beggar is but variable service ; two dishes , but to one table : that's the end .
+
+Alas , alas !
+
+A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king , and eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm .
+
+What dost thou mean by this ?
+
+Nothing , but to show you how a king may go a progress through the guts of a beggar .
+
+Where is Polonius ?
+
+In heaven ; send thither to see : if your messenger find him not there , seek him i' the other place yourself . But , indeed , if you find him not within this month , you shall nose him as you go up the stairs into the lobby .
+
+Go seek him there .
+
+He will stay till you come .
+
+
+Hamlet , this deed , for thine especial safety ,
+Which we do tender , as we dearly grieve
+For that which thou hast done , must send thee hence
+With fiery quickness : therefore prepare thyself ;
+The bark is ready , and the wind at help ,
+The associates tend , and every thing is bent
+For England .
+
+For England !
+
+Ay , Hamlet .
+
+Good .
+
+So is it , if thou knew'st our purposes .
+
+I see a cherub that sees them . But , come ; for England ! Farewell , dear mother .
+
+Thy loving father , Hamlet .
+
+My mother : father and mother is man and wife , man and wife is one flesh , and so , my mother . Come , for England !
+
+
+Follow him at foot ; tempt him with speed aboard :
+Delay it not , I'll have him hence to-night .
+Away ! for every thing is seal'd and done
+That else leans on the affair : pray you , make haste .
+
+And , England , if my love thou hold'st at aught ,
+As my great power thereof may give thee sense ,
+Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red
+After the Danish sword , and thy free awe
+Pays homage to us ,thou mayst not coldly set
+Our sovereign process , which imports at full ,
+By letters conjuring to that effect ,
+The present death of Hamlet . Do it , England ;
+For like the hectic in my blood he rages ,
+And thou must cure me . Till I know 'tis done ,
+Howe'er my haps , my joys were ne'er begun .
+
+
+Go , captain , from me greet the Danish king ;
+Tell him that , by his licence , Fortinbras
+Claims the conveyance of a promis'd march
+Over his kingdom . You know the rendezvous .
+If that his majesty would aught with us ,
+We shall express our duty in his eye ,
+And let him know so .
+
+I will do 't , my lord .
+
+Go softly on .
+
+Good sir , whose powers are these ?
+
+They are of Norway , sir .
+
+How purpos'd , sir , I pray you ?
+
+Against some part of Poland .
+
+Who commands them , sir ?
+
+The nephew to old Norway , Fortinbras .
+
+Goes it against the main of Poland , sir ,
+Or for some frontier ?
+
+Truly to speak , and with no addition ,
+We go to gain a little patch of ground
+That hath in it no profit but the name .
+To pay five ducats , five , I would not farm it ;
+Nor will it yield to Norway or the Pole
+A ranker rate , should it be sold in fee .
+
+Why , then the Polack never will defend it .
+
+Yes , 'tis already garrison'd .
+
+Two thousand souls and twenty thousand ducats
+Will not debate the question of this straw :
+This is the imposthume of much wealth and peace ,
+That inward breaks , and shows no cause without
+Why the man dies . I humbly thank you , sir .
+
+God be wi' you , sir .
+
+
+Will 't please you go , my lord ?
+
+I'll be with you straight . Go a little before .
+
+How all occasions do inform against me ,
+And spur my dull revenge ! What is a man ,
+If his chief good and market of his time
+Be but to sleep and feed ? a beast , no more .
+Sure he that made us with such large discourse ,
+Looking before and after , gave us not
+That capability and god-like reason
+To fust in us unus'd . Now , whe'r it be
+Bestial oblivion , or some craven scruple
+Of thinking too precisely on the event ,
+A thought , which , quarter'd , hath but one part wisdom ,
+And ever three parts coward , I do not know
+Why yet I live to say 'This thing's to do ;'
+Sith I have cause and will and strength and means
+To do 't . Examples gross as earth exhort me :
+Witness this army of such mass and charge
+Led by a delicate and tender prince ,
+Whose spirit with divine ambition puff'd
+Makes mouths at the invisible event ,
+Exposing what is mortal and unsure
+To all that fortune , death and danger dare ,
+Even for an egg-shell . Rightly to be great
+Is not to stir without great argument ,
+But greatly to find quarrel in a straw
+When honour's at the stake . How stand I then ,
+That have a father kill'd , a mother stain'd ,
+Excitements of my reason and my blood ,
+And let all sleep , while , to my shame , I see
+The imminent death of twenty thousand men ,
+That , for a fantasy and trick of fame ,
+Go to their graves like beds , fight for a plot
+Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause ,
+Which is not tomb enough and continent
+To hide the slaim ? O ! from this time forth ,
+My thoughts be bloody , or be nothing worth !
+
+
+I will not speak with her .
+
+She is importunate , indeed distract :
+Her mood will needs be pitied .
+
+What would she have ?
+
+She speaks much of her father ; says she hears
+There's tricks i' the world ; and hems , and beats her heart ;
+Spurns enviously at straws ; speaks things in doubt ,
+That carry but half sense : her speech is nothing ,
+Yet the unshaped use of it doth move
+The hearers to collection ; they aim at it ,
+And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts ;
+Which , as her winks , and nods , and gestures yield them ,
+Indeed would make one think there might be thought ,
+Though nothing sure , yet much unhappily .
+
+'Twere good she were spoken with , for she may strew
+Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds .
+
+Let her come in .
+
+To my sick soul , as sin's true nature is ,
+Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss :
+So full of artless jealousy is guilt ,
+It spills itself in fearing to be spilt .
+
+
+Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark ?
+
+How now , Ophelia !
+
+
+How should I your true love know
+From another one ?
+By his cockle hat and staff ,
+And his sandal shoon .
+
+
+Alas ! sweet lady , what imports this song ?
+
+Say you ? nay , pray you , mark .
+
+He is dead and gone , lady ,
+He is dead and gone ;
+At his head a grass-green turf ;
+At his heals a stone .
+
+O , ho !
+
+Nay , but Ophelia ,
+
+Pray you , mark .
+
+White his shroud as the mountain snow ,
+
+Alas ! look here , my lord .
+
+
+Larded with sweet flowers ;
+Which bewept to the grave did go
+With true-love showers .
+
+
+How do you , pretty lady ?
+
+Well , God 'ild you ! They say the owl was a baker's daughter . Lord ! we know what we are , but know not what we may be . God be at your table !
+
+Conceit upon her father .
+
+Pray you , let's have no words of this ; but when they ask you what it means , say you this :
+
+To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day ,
+All in the morning betime ,
+And I a maid at your window ,
+To be your Valentine :
+Then up he rose , and donn'd his clothes ,
+And dupp'd the chamber door ;
+Let in the maid , that out a maid
+Never departed more .
+
+
+Pretty Ophelia !
+
+Indeed , la ! without an oath , I'll make an end on 't :
+
+By Gis and by Saint Charity ,
+Alack , and fie for shame !
+Young men will do't , if they come to't ;
+By Cock they are to blame .
+Quoth she , before you tumbled me ,
+You promis'd me to wed :
+So would I ha' done , by yonder sun ,
+An thou hadst not come to my bed .
+
+
+How long hath she been thus ?
+
+I hope all will be well . We must be patient : but I cannot choose but weep , to think they should lay him i' the cold ground . My brother shall know of it : and so I thank you for your good counsel . Come , my coach ! Good-night , ladies ; good-night , sweet ladies ; good-night , good-night .
+
+
+Follow her close ; give her good watch , I pray you .
+
+O ! this is the poison of deep grief ; it springs
+All from her father's death . O Gertrude , Gertrude !
+When sorrows come , they come not single spies ,
+But in battalions . First , her father slain ;
+Next , your son gone ; but he most violent author
+Of his own just remove : the people muddied ,
+Thick and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers ,
+For good Polonius' death ; and we have done but greenly ,
+In hugger-mugger to inter him : poor Ophelia
+Divided from herself and her fair judgment ,
+Without the which we are pictures , or mere beasts :
+Last , and as much containing as all these ,
+Her brother is in secret come from France ,
+Feeds on his wonder , keeps himself in clouds ,
+And wants not buzzers to infect his ear
+With pestilent speeches of his father's death ;
+Wherein necessity , of matter beggar'd ,
+Will nothing stick our person to arraign
+In ear and ear . O my dear Gertrude ! this ,
+Like to a murdering-piece , in many places
+Gives me superfluous death .
+
+
+Alack ! what noise is this ?
+
+
+Where are my Switzers ? Let them guard the door .
+What is the matter ?
+
+Save yourself , my lord ;
+The ocean , overpeering of his list ,
+Eats not the flats with more impetuous haste
+Than young Laertes , in a riotous head ,
+O'erbears your officers . The rabble call him lord ;
+And , as the world were now but to begin ,
+Antiquity forgot , custom not known ,
+The ratifiers and props of every word ,
+They cry , 'Choose we ; Laertes shall be king !'
+Caps , hands , and tongues , applaud it to the clouds ,
+'Laertes shall be king , Laertes king !'
+
+How cheerfully on the false trail they cry !
+O ! this is counter , you false Danish dogs !
+
+The doors are broke .
+
+Where is the king ? Sirs , stand you all without .
+
+No , let's come in .
+
+I pray you , give me leave .
+
+We will , we will .
+
+
+I thank you : keep the door . O thou vile king !
+Give me my father .
+
+Calmly , good Laertes .
+
+That drop of blood that's calm proclaims me bastard ,
+Cries cuckold to my father , brands the harlot
+Even here , between the chaste unsmirched brow
+Of my true mother .
+
+What is the cause , Laertes ,
+That thy rebellion looks so giant-like ?
+Let him go , Gertrude ; do not fear our person :
+There's such divinity doth hedge a king ,
+That treason can but peep to what it would ,
+Acts little of his will . Tell me , Laertes ,
+Why thou art thus incens'd . Let him go , Gertrude .
+Speak , man .
+
+Where is my father ?
+
+Dead .
+
+But not by him .
+
+Let him demand his fill .
+
+How came he dead ? I'll not be juggled with .
+To hell , allegiance ! vows , to the blackest devil !
+Conscience and grace , to the profoundest pit !
+I dare damnation . To this point I stand ,
+That both the worlds I give to negligence ,
+Let come what comes ; only I'll be reveng'd
+Most throughly for my father .
+
+Who shall stay you ?
+
+My will , not all the world :
+And , for my means , I'll husband them so well ,
+They shall go far with little .
+
+Good Laertes ,
+If you desire to know the certainty
+Of your dear father's death , is't writ in your revenge ,
+That , swoopstake , you will draw both friend and foe ,
+Winner and loser ?
+
+None but his enemies .
+
+Will you know them then ?
+
+To his good friends thus wide I'll ope my arms ;
+And like the kind life-rendering pelican ,
+Repast them with my blood .
+
+Why , now you speak
+Like a good child and a true gentleman .
+That I am guiltless of your father's death ,
+And am most sensibly in grief for it ,
+It shall as level to your judgment pierce
+As day does to your eye .
+
+Let her come in .
+
+How now ! what noise is that ?
+
+
+O heat , dry up my brains ! tears seven times salt ,
+Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye ;
+By heaven , thy madness shall be paid by weight ,
+Till our scale turn the beam . O rose of May !
+Dear maid , kind sister , sweet Ophelia !
+O heavens ! is't possible a young maid's wits
+Should be as mortal as an old man's life ?
+Nature is fine in love , and where 'tis fine
+It sends some precious instance of itself
+
+After the thing it loves .
+
+
+They bore him barefac'd on the bier ;
+Hey non nonny , nonny , hey nonny ;
+And in his grave rain'd many a tear ;
+
+Fare you well , my dove !
+
+Hadst thou thy wits , and didst persuade revenge ,
+It could not move thus .
+
+
+You must sing , a-down a-down ,
+And you call him a-down-a .
+
+O how the wheel becomes it ! It is the false steward that stole his master's daughter .
+
+This nothing's more than matter .
+
+There's rosemary , that's for remembrance ; brance ; pray , love , remember : and there is pansies , that's for thoughts .
+
+A document in madness , thoughts and remembrance fitted .
+
+There's fennel for you , and columbines ; there's rue for you ; and here's some for me ; we may call it herb of grace o' Sundays . O ! you must wear your rue with a difference . There's a daisy ; I would give you some violets , but they withered all when my father died . They say he made a good end ,
+
+For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy .
+
+
+Thought and affliction , passion , hell itself ,
+She turns to favour and to prettiness .
+
+
+And will he not come again ?
+And will he not come again ?
+No , no , he is dead ;
+Go to thy death-bed ,
+He never will come again .
+His beard was as white as snow
+All fiaxen was his poll ,
+He is gone , he is gone ,
+And we cast away moan :
+God ha' mercy on his soul !
+
+And of all Christian souls ! I pray God . God be wi' ye !
+
+
+Do you see this , O God ?
+
+Laertes , I must common with your grief ,
+Or you deny me right . Go but apart ,
+Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will ,
+And they shall hear and judge 'twixt you and me .
+If by direct or by collateral hand
+They find us touch'd , we will our kingdom give ,
+Our crown , our life , and all that we call ours ,
+To you in satisfaction ; but if not ,
+Be you content to lend your patience to us ,
+And we shall jointly labour with your soul
+To give it due content .
+
+Let this be so :
+His means of death , his obscure burial ,
+No trophy , sword , nor hatchment o'er his bones ,
+No noble rite nor formal ostentation ,
+Cry to be heard , as 'twere from heaven to earth ,
+That I must call 't in question .
+
+So you shall ;
+And where the offence is let the great axe fall .
+I pray you go with me .
+
+
+What are they that would speak with me ?
+
+Sailors , sir : they say , they have letters for you .
+
+Let them come in .
+
+I do not know from what part of the world
+I should be greeted , if not from Lord Hamlet .
+
+
+God bless you , sir .
+
+Let him bless thee too .
+
+He shall , sir , an't please him . There's a letter for you , sir ;it comes from the ambassador that was bound for England ;if your name be Horatio , as I am let to know it is .
+
+Horatio , when thou shalt have overlooked this , give these fellows some means to the king : they have letters for him . Ere we were two days old at sea , a pirate of very war-like appointment gave us chase . Finding ourselves too slow of sail , we put on a compelled valour ; in the grapple I boarded them : on the instant they got clear of our ship , so I alone became their prisoner . They have dealt with me like thieves of mercy , but they knew what they did ; I am to do a good turn for them . Let the king have the letters I have sent ; and repair thou to me with as much haste as thou wouldst fly death . I have words to speak in thine ear will make thee dumb ; yet are they much too light for the bore of the matter . These good fellows will bring thee where I am . Rosencrantz and Guildenstern hold their course for England : of them I have much to tell thee . Farewell .
+He that thou knowest thine ,
+Come , I will give you way for these your letters ;
+And do 't the speedier , that you may direct me
+To him from whom you brought them .
+
+
+Now must your conscience my acquittance seal ,
+And you must put me in your heart for friend ,
+Sith you have heard , and with a knowing ear ,
+That he which hath your noble father slain
+Pursu'd my life .
+
+It well appears : but tell me
+Why you proceeded not against these feats ,
+So crimeful and so capital in nature ,
+As by your safety , wisdom , all things else ,
+You mainly were stirr'd up .
+
+O ! for two special reasons ;
+Which may to you , perhaps , seem much unsinew'd ,
+But yet to me they are strong . The queen his mother
+Lives almost by his looks , and for myself ,
+My virtue or my plague , be it either which ,
+She's so conjunctive to my life and soul ,
+That , as the star moves not but in his sphere ,
+I could not but by her . The other motive ,
+Why to a public count I might not go ,
+Is the great love the general gender bear him ;
+Who , dipping all his faults in their affection ,
+Would , like the spring that turneth wood to stone ,
+Convert his gyves to graces ; so that my arrows ,
+Too slightly timber'd for so loud a wind ,
+Would have reverted to my bow again ,
+And not where I had aim'd them .
+
+And so have I a noble father lost ;
+A sister driven into desperate terms ,
+Whose worth , if praises may go back again ,
+Stood challenger on mount of all the age
+For her perfections . But my revenge will come .
+
+Break not your sleeps for that ; you must not think
+That we are made of stuff so flat and dull
+That we can let our beard be shook with danger
+And think it pastime . You shortly shall hear more ;
+I lov'd your father , and we love ourself ,
+And that , I hope , will teach you to imagine ,
+
+How now ! what news ?
+
+Letters , my lord , from Hamlet :
+This to your majesty ; this to the queen .
+
+From Hamlet ! who brought them ?
+
+Sailors , my lord , they say ; I saw them not :
+They were given me by Claudio , he receiv'd them
+Of him that brought them .
+
+Laertes , you shall hear them .
+Leave us .
+
+High and mighty , you shall know I am set naked on your kingdom . To-morrow shall I beg leave to see your kingly eyes ; when I shall , first asking your pardon thereunto , recount the occasions of my sudden and more strange return
+What should this mean ? Are all the rest come back ?
+Or is it some abuse and no such thing ?
+
+Know you the hand ?
+
+'Tis Hamlet's character . 'Naked ,'
+And in a postscript here , he says , 'alone .'
+Can you advise me ?
+
+I'm lost in it , my lord . But let him come :
+It warms the very sickness in my heart ,
+That I shall live and tell him to his teeth ,
+'Thus diddest thou .'
+
+If it be so , Laertes ,
+As how should it be so ? how otherwise ?
+Will you be rul'd by me ?
+
+Ay , my lord ;
+So you will not o'er-rule me to a peace .
+
+To thine own peace . If he be now return'd ,
+As checking at his voyage , and that he means
+No more to undertake it , I will work him
+To an exploit , now ripe in my device ,
+Under the which he shall not choose but fall ;
+And for his death no wind of blame shall breathe ,
+But even his mother shall uncharge the practice
+And call it accident .
+
+My lord , I will be rul'd ;
+The rather , if you could devise it so
+That I might be the organ .
+
+It falls right .
+You have been talk'd of since your travel much ,
+And that in Hamlet's hearing , for a quality
+Wherein , they say , you shine ; your sum of parts
+Did not together pluck such envy from him
+As did that one , and that , in my regard ,
+Of the unworthiest siege .
+
+What part is that , my lord ?
+
+A very riband in the cap of youth ,
+Yet needful too ; for youth no less becomes
+The light and careless livery that it wears
+Than settled age his sables and his weeds ,
+Importing health and graveness . Two months since
+Here was a gentleman of Normandy :
+I've seen myself , and serv'd against , the French ,
+And they can well on horseback ; but this gallant
+Had witchcraft in 't , he grew unto his seat ,
+And to such wondrous doing brought his horse ,
+As he had been incorps'd and demi-natur'd
+With the brave beast ; so far he topp'd my thought ,
+That I , in forgery of shapes and tricks ,
+Come short of what he did .
+
+A Norman was 't ?
+
+A Norman .
+
+Upon my life , Lamord .
+
+The very same .
+
+I know him well ; he is the brooch indeed
+And gem of all the nation .
+
+He made confession of you ,
+And gave you such a masterly report
+For art and exercise in your defence ,
+And for your rapier most especially ,
+That he cried out , 'twould be a sight indeed
+If one could match you ; the scrimers of their nation ,
+He swore , had neither motion , guard , nor eye ,
+If you oppos'd them . Sir , this report of his
+Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy
+That he could nothing do but wish and beg
+Your sudden coming o'er , to play with him .
+Now , out of this ,
+
+What out of this , my lord ?
+
+Laertes , was your father dear to you ?
+Or are you like the painting of a sorrow ,
+A face without a heart ?
+
+Why ask you this ?
+
+Not that I think you did not love your father ,
+But that I know love is begun by time ,
+And that I see , in passages of proof ,
+Time qualifies the spark and fire of it .
+There lives within the very flame of love
+A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it ,
+And nothing is at a like goodness still ,
+For goodness , growing to a plurisy ,
+Dies in his own too-much . That we would do ,
+We should do when we would , for this 'would' changes ,
+And hath abatements and delays as many
+As there are tongues , are hands , are accidents ;
+And then this 'should' is like a spendthrift sigh ,
+That hurts by easing . But , to the quick o' the ulcer ;
+Hamlet comes back ; what would you undertake
+To show yourself your father's son in deed
+More than in words ?
+
+To cut his throat i' the church .
+
+No place , indeed , should murder sanctuarize ;
+Revenge should have no bounds . But , good Laertes ,
+Will you do this , keep close within your chamber .
+Hamlet return'd shall know you are come home ;
+We'll put on those shall praise your excellence ,
+And set a double varnish on the fame
+The Frenchman gave you , bring you , in fine , together ,
+And wager on your heads : he , being remise ,
+Most generous and free from all contriving ,
+Will not peruse the foils ; so that , with ease
+Or with a little shuffling , you may choose
+A sword unbated , and , in a pass of practice
+Requite him for your father .
+
+I will do 't ;
+And , for that purpose , I'll anoint my sword .
+I bought an unction of a mountebank ,
+So mortal that , but dip a knife in it ,
+Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare ,
+Collected from all simples that have virtue
+Under the moon , can save the thing from death
+That is but scratch'd withal ; I'll touch my point
+With this contagion , that , if I gall him slightly ,
+It may be death .
+
+Let's further think of this ;
+Weigh what convenience both of time and means
+May fit us to our shape . If this should fail ,
+And that our drift look through our bad performance
+'Twere better not assay'd ; therefore this project
+Should have a back or second , that might hold ,
+If this should blast in proof . Soft ! let me see ;
+We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings :
+I ha't :
+When in your motion you are hot and dry ,
+As make your bouts more violent to that end ,
+And that he calls for drink , I'll have prepar'd him
+A chalice for the nonce , whereon but sipping ,
+If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck ,
+Our purpose may hold there . But stay ! what noise ?
+
+How now , sweet queen !
+
+One woe doth tread upon another's heel ,
+So fast they follow : your sister's drown'd , Laertes .
+
+Drown'd ! O , where ?
+
+There is a willow grows aslant a brook ,
+That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream ;
+There with fantastic garlands did she come ,
+Of crow-flowers , nettles , daisies , and long purples ,
+That liberal shepherds give a grosser name ,
+But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them :
+There , on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds
+Clambering to hang , an envious sliver broke ,
+When down her weedy trophies and herself
+Fell in the weeping brook . Her clothes spread wide ,
+And , mermaid-like , awhile they bore her up ;
+Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes ,
+As one incapable of her own distress ,
+Or like a creature native and indu'd
+Unto that element ; but long it could not be
+Till that her garments , heavy with their drink ,
+Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay
+To muddy death .
+
+Alas ! then , she is drown'd ?
+
+Drown'd , drown'd .
+
+Too much of water hast thou , poor Ophelis ,
+And therefore I forbid my tears ; but yet
+It is our trick , nature her custom holds ,
+Let shame say what it will ; when these are gone
+The woman will be out . Adieu , my lord !
+I have a speech of fire , that fain would blaze ,
+But that this folly douts it .
+
+
+Let's follow , Gertrude .
+How much I had to do to calm his rage !
+Now fear I this will give it start again ;
+Therefore let's follow .
+
+Is she to be buried in Christian burial that wilfully seeks her own salvation ?
+
+I tell thee she is ; and therefore make her grave straight : the crowner hath sat on her , and finds it Christian burial .
+
+How can that be , unless she drowned herself in her own defence ?
+
+Why , 'tis found so .
+
+It must be se offendendo ; it cannot be else . For here lies the point : if I drown myself wittingly it argues an act ; and an act hath three branches ; it is , to act , to do , and to perform : argal , she drowned herself wittingly .
+
+Nay , but hear you , goodman delver ,
+
+Give me leave . Here lies the water ; good : here stands the man ; good : if the man go to this water , and drown himself , it is , will he , nill he , he goes ; mark you that ? but if the water come to him , and drown him , he drowns not himself : argal , he that is not guilty of his own death shortens not his own life .
+
+But is this law ?
+
+Ay , marry , is 't ; crowner's quest law .
+
+Will you ha' the truth on 't ? If this had not been a gentlewoman she should have been buried out o' Christian burial .
+
+Why , there thou sayest ; and the more pity that great folk should have countenance in this world to drown or hang themselves more than their even Christian . Come , my spade . There is no ancient gentlemen but gardeners , ditchers , and grave-makers ; they hold up Adam's profession .
+
+Was he a gentleman ?
+
+A' was the first that ever bore arms .
+
+Why , he had none .
+
+What ! art a heathen ? How dost thou understand the Scripture ? The Scripture says , Adam digged ; could be dig without arms ?
+I'll put another question to thee ; if thou answerest me not to the purpose , confess thyself
+
+Go to .
+
+What is he that builds stronger than either the mason , the shipwright , or the carpenter ?
+
+The gallows-maker ; for that frame outlives a thousand tenants .
+
+I like thy wit well , in good faith ; the gallows does well , but how does it well ? it does well to those that do ill ; now thou dost ill to say the gallows is built stronger than the church : argal , the gallows may do well to thee .
+To 't again ; come .
+
+Who builds stronger than a mason , a shipwright , or a carpenter ?
+
+Ay , tell me that , and unyoke .
+
+Marry , now I can tell .
+
+To 't .
+
+Mass , I cannot tell .
+
+
+Cudgel thy brains no more about it , for your dull ass will not mend his pace with beating ; and , when you are asked this question next , say , 'a grave-maker :' the houses that he makes last till doomsday . Go , get thee to Yaughan ; fetch me a stoup of liquor .
+
+First Clown digs , and sings .
+
+In youth , when I did love , did love ,
+Methought it was very sweet ,
+To contract , O ! the time , for-a my behove ,
+O ! methought there was nothing meet .
+
+
+Has this fellow no feeling of his business , that he sings at grave-making ?
+
+Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness .
+
+'Tis e'en so ; the hand of little employment hath the daintier sense .
+
+
+But age , with his stealing steps ,
+Hath claw'd me in his clutch ,
+And hath shipped me intil the land ,
+As if I had never been such .
+
+That skull had a tongue in it , and could sing once ; how the knave jowls it to the ground , as if it were Cain's jaw-bone , that did the first murder ! This might be the pate of a politician , which this ass now o'er-offices , one that would circumvent God , might it not ?
+
+It might , my lord .
+
+Or of a courtier , which could say , 'Good morrow , sweet lord ! How dost thou , good lord ?' This might be my Lord Such-a-one , that praised my Lord Such-a-one's horse , when he meant to beg it , might it not ?
+
+Ay , my lord .
+
+Why , e'en so , and now my Lady Worm's ; chapless , and knocked about the mazzard with a sexton's spade . Here's fine revolution , an we had the trick to see 't . Did these bones cost no more the breeding but to play at loggats with 'em ? mine ache to think on 't .
+
+
+A pick-axe , and a spade , a spade ,
+For and a shrouding sheet ;
+O ! a pit of clay for to be made
+For such a guest is meet .
+
+There's another ; why may not that be the skull of a lawyer ? Where be his quiddities now , his quillets , his cases , his tenures , and his tricks ? why does he suffer this rude knave now to knock him about the sconce with a dirty shovel , and will not tell him of his action of battery ? Hum ! This fellow might be in 's time a great buyer of land , with his statutes , his recognizances , his fines , his double vouchers , his recoveries ; is this the fine of his fines , and the recovery of his recoveries , to have his fine pate full of fine dirt ? will his vouchers vouch him no more of his purchases , and double ones too , than the length and breadth of a pair of indentures ? The very conveyance of his lands will hardly lie in this box , and must the inheritor himself have no more , ha ?
+
+Not a jot more , my lord .
+
+Is not parchment made of sheep-skins ?
+
+Ay , my lord , and of calf-skins too .
+
+They are sheep and calves which seek out assurance in that . I will speak to this fellow . Whose grave's this , sir ?
+
+Mine , sir ,
+
+O ! a pit of clay for to be made
+For such a guest is meet .
+
+
+I think it be thine , indeed ; for thou liest in 't .
+
+You lie out on 't , sir , and therefore it is not yours ; for my part , I do not lie in 't , and yet it is mine .
+
+Thou dost lie in 't , to be in 't and say it is thine : 'tis for the dead , not for the quick ; therefore thou liest .
+
+'Tis a quick lie , sir ; 'twill away again , from me to you .
+
+What man dost thou dig it for ?
+
+For no man , sir .
+
+What woman , then ?
+
+For none , neither .
+
+Who is to be buried in 't ?
+
+One that was a woman , sir ; but , rest her soul , she's dead .
+
+How absolute the knave is ! we must speak by the card , or equivocation will undo us . By the Lord , Horatio , these three years I have taken note of it ; the age is grown so picked that the toe of the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier , he galls his kibe . How long hast thou been a grave-maker ?
+
+Of all the days i' the year , I came to 't that day that our last King Hamlet overcame Fortinbras .
+
+How long is that since ?
+
+Cannot you tell that ? every fool can tell that ; it was the very day that young Hamlet was born ; he that is mad , and sent into England .
+
+Ay , marry ; why was he sent into England ?
+
+Why , because he was mad : he shall recover his wits there ; or , if he do not , 'tis no great matter there
+
+Why ?
+
+'Twill not be seen in him there ; there the men are as mad as he .
+
+How came he mad ?
+
+Very strangely , they say .
+
+How strangely ?
+
+Faith , e'en with losing his wits .
+
+Upon what ground ?
+
+Why , here in Denmark ; I have been sexton here , man and boy , thirty years .
+
+How long will a man lie i' the earth ere he rot ?
+
+Faith , if he be not rotten before he die ,as we have many pocky corses now-a-days , that will scarce hold the laying in ,he will last you some eight year or nine year ; a tanner will last you nine year .
+
+Why he more than another ?
+
+Why , sir , his hide is so tanned with his trade that he will keep out water a great while , and your water is a sore decayer of your whoreson dead body . Here's a skull now ; this skull hath lain you i' the earth three-and-twenty years .
+
+Whose was it ?
+
+A whoreson mad fellow's it was : whose do you think it was ?
+
+Nay , I know not .
+
+A pestilence on him for a mad rogue ! a' poured a flagon of Rhenish on my head once . This same skull , sir , was Yorick's skull , the king's jester .
+
+This !
+
+E'en that .
+
+Let me see .
+
+Alas ! poor Yorick . I knew him , Horatio ; a fellow of infinite jest , of most excellent fancy ; he hath borne me on his back a thousand times ; and now , how abhorred in my imagination it is ! my gorge rises at it . Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft . Where be your gibes now ? your gambols ? your songs ? your flashes of merriment , that were wont to set the table on a roar ? Not one now , to mock your own grinning ? quite chapfallen ? Now get you to my lady's chamber , and tell her , let her paint an inch thick , to this favour she must come ; make her laugh at that . Prithee , Horatio , tell me one thing .
+
+What's that , my lord ?
+
+Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion i' the earth ?
+
+E'en so .
+
+And smelt so ? pah !
+
+
+E'en so , my lord .
+
+To what base uses we may return , Horatio ! Why may not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander , till he find it stopping a bung-hole ?
+
+'Twere to consider too curiously , to consider so .
+
+No , faith , not a jot ; but to follow him thither with modesty enough , and likelihood to lead it ; as thus : Alexander died , Alexander was buried , Alexander returneth into dust ; the dust is earth ; of earth we make loam , and why of that loam , whereto he was converted , might they not stop a beer-barrel ?
+
+Imperious C sar , dead and turn'd to clay ,
+Might stop a hole to keep the wind away :
+O ! that that earth , which kept the world in awe ,
+Should patch a wall to expal the winter's flaw .
+
+But soft ! but soft ! aside : here comes the king .
+
+The queen , the courtiers : who is that they follow ?
+And with such maimed rites ? This doth betoken
+The corse they follow did with desperate hand
+Fordo its own life ; 'twas of some estate .
+Couch we awhile , and mark .
+
+What ceremony else ?
+
+That is Laertes ,
+A very noble youth : mark .
+
+What ceremony else ?
+
+Her obsequies have been as far enlarg'd
+As we have warrantise : her death was doubtful ,
+And , but that great command o'ersways the order ,
+She should in ground unsanctified have lodg'd
+Till the last trumpet ; for charitable prayers ,
+Shards , flints , and pebbles should be thrown on her ;
+Yet here she is allow'd her virgin crants ,
+Her maiden strewments , and the bringing home
+Of bell and burial .
+
+Must there no more be done ?
+
+No more be done :
+We should profane the service of the dead ,
+To sing a requiem , and such rest to her
+As to peace-parted souls .
+
+Lay her i' the earth ;
+And from her fair and unpolluted flesh
+May violets spring ! I tell thee , churlish priest ,
+A ministering angel shall my sister be ,
+When thou liest howling .
+
+What ! the fair Ophelia ?
+
+Sweets to the sweet : farewell !
+
+I hop'd thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife ;
+I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd , sweet maid ,
+And not have strew'd thy grave .
+
+O ! treble woe
+Fall ten times treble on that cursed head
+Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense
+Depriv'd thee of . Hold off the earth awhile ,
+Till I have caught her once more in mine arms .
+
+Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead ,
+Till of this flat a mountain you have made ,
+To o'er-top old Pelion or the skyish head
+Of blue Olympus .
+
+What is he whose grief
+Bears such an emphasis ? whose phrase of sorrow
+Conjures the wandering stars , and makes them stand
+Like wonder-wounded hearers ? this is I ,
+Hamlet the Dane .
+
+
+The devil take thy soul !
+
+
+Thou pray'st not well .
+I prithee , take thy fingers from my throat ;
+For though I am not splenetive and rash
+Yet have I in me something dangerous ,
+Which let thy wisdom fear . Away thy hand !
+
+Pluck them asunder .
+
+Hamlet ! Hamlet !
+
+Gentlemen ,
+
+Good my lord , be quiet .
+
+
+Why , I will fight with him upon this theme
+Until my eyelids will no longer wag .
+
+O my son ! what theme ?
+
+I lov'd Ophelia : forty thousand brothers
+Could not , with all their quantity of love ,
+Make up my sum . What wilt thou do for her ?
+
+O ! he is mad , Laertes .
+
+For love of God , forbear him .
+
+'Swounds , show me what thou'lt do :
+Woo't weep ? woo't fight ? woo't fast ? woo't tear thyself ?
+Woo't drink up eisel ? eat a crocodile ?
+I'll do't . Dost thou come here to whine ?
+To outface me with leaping in her grave ?
+Be buried quick with her , and so will I :
+And , if thou prate of mountains , let them throw
+Millions of acres on us , till our ground ,
+Singeing his pate against the burning zone ,
+Make Ossa like a wart ! Nay , an thou'lt mouth ,
+I'll rant as well as thou .
+
+This is mere madness :
+And thus a while the fit will work on him ;
+Anon , as patient as the female dove ,
+When that her golden couplets are disclos'd ,
+His silence will sit drooping .
+
+Hear you , sir ;
+What is the reason that you use me thus ?
+I lov'd you ever : but it is no matter ;
+Let Hercules himself do what he may ,
+The cat will mew and dog will have his day .
+
+
+I pray you , good Horatio , wait upon him .
+
+Strengthen your patience in our last night's speech ;
+We'll put the matter to the present push .
+Good Gertrude , set some watch over your son .
+This grave shall have a living monument :
+An hour of quiet shortly shall we see ;
+Till then , in patience our proceeding be .
+
+
+So much for this , sir : now shall you see the other ;
+You do remember all the circumstance ?
+
+Remember it , my lord ?
+
+Sir , in my heart there was a kind of fighting
+That would not let me sleep ; methought I lay
+Worse than the mutines in the bilboes . Rashly ,
+And prais'd be rashness for it , let us know ,
+Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well
+When our deep plots do pall ; and that should teach us
+There's a divinity that shapes our ends ,
+Rough-hew them how we will .
+
+That is most certain .
+
+Up from my cabin ,
+My sea-gown scarf'd about me , in the dark
+Grop'd I to find out them , had my desire ,
+Finger'd their packet , and in fine withdrew
+To mine own room again ; making so bold
+My fears forgetting manners to unseal
+Their grand commission ; where I found , Horatio ,
+O royal knavery ! an exact command ,
+Larded with many several sorts of reasons
+Importing Denmark's health , and England's too ,
+With , ho ! such bugs and goblins in my life ,
+That , on the supervise , no leisure bated ,
+No , not to stay the grinding of the axe ,
+My head should be struck off .
+
+Is 't possible ?
+
+Here's the commission : read it at more leisure .
+But wilt thou hear me how I did proceed ?
+
+I beseech you .
+
+Being thus be-netted round with villanies ,
+Ere I could make a prologue to my brains
+They had begun the play ,I sat me down ,
+Devis'd a new commission , wrote it fair ;
+I once did hold it , as our statists do ,
+A baseness to write fair , and labour'd much
+How to forget that learning ; but , sir , now
+It did me yeoman's service . Wilt thou know
+The effect of what I wrote ?
+
+Ay , good my lord .
+
+An earnest conjuration from the king ,
+As England was his faithful tributary ,
+As love between them like the palm should flourish ,
+As peace should still her wheaten garland wear ,
+And stand a comma 'tween their amities ,
+And many such-like 'As'es of great charge ,
+That , on the view and knowing of these contents ,
+Without debatement further , more or less ,
+He should the bearers put to sudden death ,
+Not shriving-time allow'd .
+
+How was this seal'd ?
+
+Why , even in that was heaven ordinant .
+I had my father's signet in my purse ,
+Which was the model of that Danish seal ;
+Folded the writ up in form of the other ,
+Subscrib'd it , gave't th' impression , plac'd it safely ,
+The changeling never known . Now , the next day
+Was our sea-fight , and what to this was sequent
+Thou know'st already .
+
+So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go to 't .
+
+Why , man , they did make love to this employment ;
+They are not near my conscience ; their defeat
+Does by their own insinuation grow .
+'Tis dangerous when the baser nature comes
+Between the pass and fell-incensed points
+Of mighty opposites .
+
+Why , what a king is this !
+
+Does it not , thinks't thee , stand me now upon
+He that hath kill'd my king and whor'd my mother ,
+Popp'd in between the election and my hopes ,
+Thrown out his angle for my proper life ,
+And with such cozenage is 't not perfect conscience
+To quit him with this arm ? and is 't not to be damn'd
+To let this canker of our nature come
+In further evil ?
+
+It must be shortly known to him from England
+What is the issue of the business there .
+
+It will be short : the interim is mine ;
+And a man's life's no more than to say 'One .'
+But I am very sorry , good Horatio ,
+That to Laertes I forgot myself ;
+For , by the image of my cause , I see
+The portraiture of his : I'll count his favours :
+But , sure , the bravery of his grief did put me
+Into a towering passion .
+
+Peace ! who comes here ?
+
+
+Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark .
+
+I humbly thank you , sir .
+
+Dost know this water-fly ?
+
+No , my good lord .
+
+Thy state is the more gracious ; for 'tis a vice to know him . He hath much land , and fertile : let a beast be lord of beasts , and his crib shall stand at the king's mess : 'tis a chough ; but , as I say , spacious in the possession of dirt .
+
+Sweet lord , if your lordship were at leisure , I should impart a thing to you from his majesty .
+
+I will receive it , sir , with all diligence of spirit . Your bonnet to his right use ; 'tis for the head .
+
+I thank your lordship , 'tis very hot .
+
+No , believe me , 'tis very cold ; the wind is northerly .
+
+It is indifferent cold , my lord , indeed .
+
+But yet methinks it is very sultry and hot for my complexion .
+
+Exceedingly , my lord ; it is very sultry , as 'twere , I cannot tell how . But , my lord , his majesty bade me signify to you that he has laid a great wager on your head . Sir , this is the matter ,
+
+I beseech you , remember
+
+
+Nay , good my lord ; for mine ease , in good faith . Sir , here is newly come to court Laertes ; believe me , an absolute gentleman , full of most excellent differences , of very soft society and great showing ; indeed , to speak feelingly of him , he is the card or calendar of gentry , for you shall find in him the continent of what part a gentleman would see .
+
+Sir , his definement suffers no perdition in you ; though , I know , to divide him inventorially would dizzy the arithmetic of memory , and yet but yaw neither , in respect of his quick sail . But , in the verity of extolment , I take him to be a soul of great article ; and his infusion of such dearth and rareness , as , to make true diction of him , his semblable is his mirror ; and who else would trace him , his umbrage , nothing more .
+
+Your lordship speaks most infallibly of him .
+
+The concernancy , sir ? why do we wrap the gentleman in our more rawer breath ?
+
+Sir ?
+
+Is 't not possible to understand in another tongue ? You will do 't , sir , really .
+
+What imports the nomination of this gentleman ?
+
+Of Laertes ?
+
+His purse is empty already ; all 's golden words are spent .
+
+Of him , sir .
+
+I know you are not ignorant
+
+I would you did , sir ; in faith , if you did , it would not much approve me . Well , sir .
+
+You are not ignorant of what excellence Laertes is
+
+I dare not confess that , lest I should compare with him in excellence ; but , to know a man well , were to know himself .
+
+I mean , sir , for his weapon ; but in the imputation laid on him by them , in his meed he's unfellowed .
+
+What's his weapon ?
+
+Rapier and dagger .
+
+That's two of his weapons ; but , well .
+
+The king , sir , hath wagered with him six Barbary horses ; against the which he has imponed , as I take it , six French rapiers and poniards , with their assigns , as girdle , hangers , and so : three of the carriages , in faith , are very dear to fancy , very responsive to the hilts , most delicate carriages , and of very liberal conceit .
+
+What call you the carriages ?
+
+I knew you must be edified by the margent , ere you had done .
+
+The carriages , sir , are the hangers .
+
+The phrase would be more german to the matter , if we could carry cannon by our sides ; I would it might be hangers till then . But , on ; six Barbary horses against six French swords , their assigns , and three liberal-conceited carriages ; that's the French bet against the Danish . Why is this 'imponed ,' as you call it ?
+
+The king , sir , hath laid , that in a dozen passes between yourself and him , he shall not exceed you three hits ; he hath laid on twelve for nine , and it would come to immediate trial , if your lordship would vouchsafe the answer .
+
+How if I answer no ?
+
+I mean , my lord , the opposition of your person in trial .
+
+Sir , I will walk here in the hall ; if it please his majesty , 'tis the breathing time of day with me ; let the foils be brought , the gentleman willing , and the king hold his purpose , I will win for him an I can ; if not , I will gain nothing but my shame and the odd hits .
+
+Shall I re-deliver you so ?
+
+To this effect , sir ; after what flourish your nature will .
+
+I commend my duty to your lordship .
+
+Yours , yours .
+
+He does well to commend it himself ; there are no tongues else for 's turn .
+
+This lapwing runs away with the shell on his head .
+
+He did comply with his dug before he sucked it . Thus has he and many more of the same bevy , that I know the drossy age dotes on only got the tune of the time and outward habit of encounter , a kind of yesty collection which carries them through and through the most fond and winnowed opinions ; and do but blow them to their trial , the bubbles are out .
+
+
+My lord , his majesty commended him to you by young Osric , who brings back to him , that you attend him in the hall ; he sends to know if your pleasure hold to play with Laertes , or that you will take longer time .
+
+I am constant to my purposes ; they follow the king's pleasure : if his fitness speaks , mine is ready ; now , or whensoever , provided I be so able as now .
+
+The king , and queen , and all are coming down .
+
+In happy time .
+
+The queen desires you to use some gentle entertainment to Laertes before you fall to play .
+
+She well instructs me .
+
+
+You will lose this wager , my lord .
+
+I do not think so ; since he went into France , I have been in continual practice ; I shall win at the odds . But thou wouldst not think how ill all 's here about my heart ; but it is no matter .
+
+Nay , good my lord ,
+
+It is but foolery ; but it is such a kind of gain-giving as would perhaps trouble a woman .
+
+If your mind dislike any thing , obey it ; I will forestal their repair hither , and say you are not fit .
+
+Not a whit , we defy augury ; there's a special providence in the fall of a sparrow . If it be now , 'tis not to come ; if it be not to come , it will be now ; if it be not now , yet it will come : the readiness is all . Since no man has aught of what he leaves , what is 't to leave betimes ? Let be .
+
+
+Come , Hamlet , come , and take this hand from me .
+
+
+Give me your pardon , sir ; I've done you wrong ;
+But pardon 't , as you are a gentleman .
+This presence knows ,
+And you must needs have heard , how I am punish'd
+With sore distraction . What I have done ,
+That might your nature , honour and exception
+Roughly awake , I here proclaim was madness .
+Was't Hamlet wrong'd Laertes ? Never Hamlet :
+If Hamlet from himself be ta'en away ,
+And when he's not himself does wrong Laertes ,
+Then Hamlet does it not ; Hamlet denies it .
+Who does it then ? His madness . If 't be so ,
+Hamlet is of the faction that is wrong'd ;
+His madness is poor Hamlet's enemy .
+Sir , in this audience ,
+Let my disclaiming from a purpos'd evil
+Free me so far in your most generous thoughts ,
+That I have shot mine arrow o'er the house ,
+And hurt my brother .
+
+I am satisfied in nature ,
+Whose motive , in this case , should stir me most
+To my revenge ; but in my terms of honour
+I stand aloof , and will no reconcilement ,
+Till by some elder masters , of known honour ,
+I have a voice and precedent of peace ,
+To keep my name ungor'd . But till that time ,
+I do receive your offer'd love like love ,
+And will not wrong it .
+
+I embrace it freely ;
+And will this brother's wager frankly play .
+Give us the foils . Come on .
+
+Come , one for me .
+
+I'll be your foil , Laertes ; in mine ignorance
+Your skill shall , like a star i' the darkest night ,
+Stick fiery off indeed .
+
+You mock me , sir .
+
+No , by this hand .
+
+Give them the foils , young Osric . Cousin Hamlet ,
+You know the wager ?
+
+Very well , my lord ;
+Your Grace hath laid the odds o' the weaker side .
+
+I do not fear it ; I have seen you both ;
+But since he is better'd , we have therefore odds .
+
+This is too heavy ; let me see another .
+
+This likes me well . These foils have all a length ?
+
+Ay , my good lord .
+
+
+Set me the stoups of wine upon that table .
+If Hamlet give the first or second hit ,
+Or quit in answer of the third exchange ,
+Let all the battlements their ordnance fire ;
+The king shall drink to Hamlet's better breath ;
+And in the cup an union shall he throw ,
+Richer than that which four successive kings
+In Denmark's crown have worn . Give me the cups ;
+And let the kettle to the trumpet speak ,
+The trumpet to the cannoneer without ,
+The cannons to the heavens , the heavens to earth ,
+'Now the king drinks to Hamlet !' Come , begin ;
+And you , the judges , bear a wary eye .
+
+Come on , sir .
+
+Come , my lord .
+
+
+One .
+
+No .
+
+Judgment .
+
+A hit , a very palpable hit .
+
+Well ; again .
+
+Stay ; give me drink . Hamlet , this pearl is thine ;
+Here's to thy health . Give him the cup .
+
+
+I'll play this bout first ; set it by awhile .
+Come .
+
+Another hit ; what say you ?
+
+A touch , a touch , I do confess .
+
+Our son shall win .
+
+He's fat , and scant of breath .
+Here , Hamlet , take my napkin , rub thy brows ;
+The queen carouses to thy fortune , Hamlet .
+
+Good madam !
+
+Gertrude , do not drink .
+
+I will , my lord ; I pray you , pardon me .
+
+It is the poison'd cup ! it is too late .
+
+I dare not drink yet , madam ; by and by .
+
+Come , let me wipe thy face .
+
+My lord , I'll hit him now .
+
+I do not think 't
+
+And yet 'tis almost 'gainst my conscience .
+
+Come , for the third , Laertes . You but dally ;
+I pray you , pass with your best violence .
+I am afeard you make a wanton of me .
+
+Say you so ? come on .
+
+
+Nothing , neither way .
+
+Have at you now .
+
+
+Part them ! they are incens'd
+
+Nay , come , again .
+
+
+Look to the queen there , ho !
+
+They bleed on both sides . How is it , my lord ?
+
+How is it , Laertes ?
+
+Why , as a woodcock to mine own springe , Osric ;
+I am justly kill'd with mine own treachery .
+
+How does the queen ?
+
+She swounds to see them bleed .
+
+No , no , the drink , the drink ,O my dear Hamlet !
+The drink , the drink ; I am poison'd .
+
+
+O villany ! Ho ! let the door be lock'd :
+Treachery ! seek it out .
+
+
+It is here , Hamlet . Hamlet , thou art slain ;
+No medicine in the world can do thee good ;
+In thee there is not half an hour of life ;
+The treacherous instrument is in thy hand ,
+Unbated and envenom'd . The foul practice
+Hath turn'd itself on me ; lo ! here I lie ,
+Never to rise again . Thy mother's poison'd .
+I can no more . The king , the king's to blame .
+
+The point envenom'd tool .
+Then , venom , to thy work .
+
+
+Treason ! treason !
+
+O ! yet defend me , friends ; I am but hurt .
+
+Here , thou incestuous , murderous , damned Dane ,
+Drink off this potion ;is thy union here ?
+Follow my mother .
+
+
+He is justly serv'd ;
+It is a poison temper'd by himself .
+Exchange forgiveness with me , noble Hamlet :
+Mine and my father's death come not upon thee ,
+Nor thine on me !
+
+
+Heaven make thee free of it ! I follow thee .
+I am dead , Horatio . Wretched queen , adieu !
+You that look pale and tremble at this chance ,
+That are but mutes or audience to this act ,
+Had I but time ,as this fell sergeant , death ,
+Is strict in his arrest ,O ! I could tell you
+But let it be . Horatio , I am dead ;
+Thou liv'st ; report me and my cause aright
+To the unsatisfied .
+
+Never believe it ;
+I am more an antique Roman than a Dane :
+Here's yet some liquor left .
+
+As thou'rt a man ,
+Give me the cup : let go ; by heaven , I'll have 't .
+O God ! Horatio , what a wounded name ,
+Things standing thus unknown , shall live behind me .
+If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart ,
+Absent thee from felicity awhile ,
+And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain ,
+To tell my story .
+
+What war-like noise is this ?
+
+Young Fortinbras , with conquest come from Poland ,
+To the ambassadors of England gives
+This war-like volley .
+
+O ! I die , Horatio ;
+The potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit :
+I cannot live to hear the news from England ,
+But I do prophesy the election lights
+On Fortinbras : he has my dying voice ;
+So tell him , with the occurrents , more and less ,
+Which have solicited The rest is silence .
+
+
+Now cracks a noble heart . Good-night , sweet prince ,
+And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest !
+Why does the drum come hither ?
+
+Where is this sight ?
+
+What is it ye would see ?
+If aught of woe or wonder , cease your search .
+
+This quarry cries on havoc . O proud death !
+What feast is toward in thine eternal cell ,
+That thou so many princes at a shot
+So bloodily hast struck ?
+
+The sight is dismal ;
+And our affairs from England come too late :
+The ears are senseless that should give us hearing ,
+To tell him his commandment is fulfill'd ,
+That Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead .
+Where should we have our thanks ?
+
+Not from his mouth ,
+Had it the ability of life to thank you :
+He never gave commandment for their death .
+But since , so jump upon this bloody question ,
+You from the Polack wars , and you from England ,
+Are here arriv'd , give order that these bodies
+High on a stage be placed to the view ;
+And let me speak to the yet unknowing world
+How these things came about : so shall you hear
+Of carnal , bloody , and unnatural acts ,
+Of accidental judgments , casual slaughters ;
+Of deaths put on by cunning and forc'd cause ,
+And , in this upshot , purposes mistook
+Fall'n on the inventors' heads ; all this can I
+Truly deliver .
+
+Let us haste to hear it ,
+And call the noblest to the audience .
+For me , with sorrow I embrace my fortune ;
+I have some rights of memory in this kingdom ,
+Which now to claim my vantage doth invite me .
+
+Of that I shall have also cause to speak ,
+And from his mouth whose voice will draw on more :
+But let this same be presently perform'd ,
+Even while men's minds are wild , lest more mischance
+On plots and errors happen .
+
+Let four captains
+Bear Hamlet , like a soldier , to the stage ;
+For he was likely , had he been put on ,
+To have prov'd most royally : and , for his passage ,
+The soldiers' music and the rites of war
+Speak loudly for him .
+Take up the bodies : such a sight as this
+Becomes the field , but here shows much amiss .
+Go , bid the soldiers shoot .
+
+JULIUS CAESAR
+
+Hence ! home , you idle creatures , get you home :
+Is this a holiday ? What ! know you not ,
+Being mechanical , you ought not walk
+Upon a labouring day without the sign
+Of your profession ? Speak , what trade art thou ?
+
+Why , sir , a carpenter .
+
+Where is thy leather apron , and thy rule ?
+What dost thou with thy best apparel on ?
+You , sir , what trade are you ?
+
+Truly , sir , in respect of a fine workman , I am but , as you would say , a cobbler .
+
+But what trade art thou ? Answer me directly .
+
+A trade , sir , that , I hope , I may use with a safe conscience ; which is , indeed , sir , a mender of bad soles .
+
+What trade , thou knave ? thou naughty knave , what trade ?
+
+Nay , I beseech you , sir , be not out with me : yet , if you be out , sir , I can mend you .
+
+What meanest thou by that ? Mend me , thou saucy fellow !
+
+Why , sir , cobble you .
+
+Thou art a cobbler , art thou ?
+
+Truly , sir , all that I live by is with the awl : I meddle with no tradesman's matters , nor women's matters , but with awl . I am , indeed , sir , a surgeon to old shoes ; when they are in great danger , I recover them . As proper men as ever trod upon neat's leather have gone upon my handiwork .
+
+But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day ?
+Why dost thou lead these men about the streets ?
+
+Truly , sir , to wear out their shoes , to get myself into more work . But , indeed , sir , we make holiday to see C sar and to rejoice in his triumph .
+
+Wherefore rejoice ? What conquest brings he home ?
+What tributaries follow him to Rome
+To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels ?
+You blocks , you stones , you worse than senseless things !
+O you hard hearts , you cruel men of Rome ,
+Knew you not Pompey ? Many a time and oft
+Have you climb'd up to walls and battlements ,
+To towers and windows , yea , to chimney-tops ,
+Your infants in your arms , and there have sat
+The livelong day , with patient expectation ,
+To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome :
+And when you saw his chariot but appear ,
+Have you not made a universal shout ,
+That Tiber trembled underneath her banks ,
+To hear the replication of your sounds
+Made in her concave shores ?
+And do you now put on your best attire ?
+And do you now cull out a holiday ?
+And do you now strew flowers in his way ,
+That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood ?
+Be gone !
+Run to your houses , fall upon your knees ,
+Pray to the gods to intermit the plague
+That needs must light on this ingratitude .
+
+Go , go , good countrymen , and , for this fault
+Assemble all the poor men of your sort ;
+Draw them to Tiber banks , and weep your tears
+Into the channel , till the lowest stream
+Do kiss the most exalted shores of all .
+
+See whe'r their basest metal be not mov'd ;
+They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness .
+Go you down that way towards the Capitol ;
+This way will I . Disrobe the images
+If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies .
+
+May we do so ?
+You know it is the feast of Lupercal .
+
+It is no matter ; let no images
+Be hung with C sar's trophies . I'll about
+And drive away the vulgar from the streets :
+So do you too where you perceive them thick .
+These growing feathers pluck'd from C sar's wing
+Will make him fly an ordinary pitch ,
+Who else would soar above the view of men
+And keep us all in servile fearfulness .
+
+
+Calphurnia !
+
+Peace , ho ! C sar speaks .
+
+
+Calphurnia !
+
+Here , my lord .
+
+Stand you directly in Antonius' way
+When he doth run his course . Antonius !
+
+C sar , my lord .
+
+Forget not , in your speed , Antonius ,
+To touch Calphurnia ; for our elders say ,
+The barren , touched in this holy chase ,
+Shake off their sterile curse .
+
+I shall remember :
+When C sar says 'Do this ,' it is perform'd .
+
+Set on ; and leave no ceremony out .
+
+
+C sar !
+
+Ha ! Who calls ?
+
+Bid every noise be still : peace yet again !
+
+
+Who is it in the press that calls on me ?
+I hear a tongue , shriller than all the music ,
+Cry 'C sar .' Speak ; C sar is turn'd to hear .
+
+Beware the ides of March .
+
+What man is that ?
+
+A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March .
+
+Set him before me ; let me see his face .
+
+Fellow , come from the throng ; look upon C sar .
+
+What sayst thou to me now ? Speak once again .
+
+Beware the ides of March .
+
+He is a dreamer ; let us leave him : pass .
+
+
+Will you go see the order of the course ?
+
+Not I .
+
+I pray you , do .
+
+I am not gamesome : I do lack some part
+Of that quick spirit that is in Antony .
+Let me not hinder , Cassius , your desires ;
+I'll leave you .
+
+Brutus , I do observe you now of late :
+I have not from your eyes that gentleness
+And show of love as I was wont to have :
+You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand
+Over your friend that loves you .
+
+Cassius ,
+Be not deceiv'd : if I have veil'd my look ,
+I turn the trouble of my countenance
+Merely upon myself . Vexed I am
+Of late with passions of some difference ,
+Conceptions only proper to myself ,
+Which give some soil perhaps to my behaviours ;
+But let not therefore my good friends be griev'd ,
+Among which number , Cassius , be you one ,
+Nor construe any further my neglect ,
+Than that poor Brutus , with himself at war ,
+Forgets the shows of love to other men .
+
+Then , Brutus , I have much mistook your passion ;
+By means whereof this breast of mine hath buried
+Thoughts of great value , worthy cogitations .
+Tell me , good Brutus , can you see your face ?
+
+No , Cassius ; for the eye sees not itself ,
+But by reflection , by some other things .
+
+'Tis just :
+And it is very much lamented , Brutus ,
+That you have no such mirrors as will turn
+Your hidden worthiness into your eye ,
+That you might see your shadow . I have heard ,
+Where many of the best respect in Rome ,
+Except immortal C sar ,speaking of Brutus ,
+And groaning underneath this age's yoke ,
+Have wish'd that noble Brutus had his eyes .
+
+Into what dangers would you lead me , Cassius ,
+That you would have me seek into myself
+For that which is not in me ?
+
+Therefore , good Brutus , be prepar'd to hear ;
+And , since you know you cannot see yourself
+So well as by reflection , I , your glass ,
+Will modestly discover to yourself
+That of yourself which you yet know not of .
+And be not jealous on me , gentle Brutus :
+Were I a common laugher , or did use
+To stale with ordinary oaths my love
+To every new protester ; if you know
+That I do fawn on men and hug them hard ,
+And after scandal them ; or if you know
+That I profess myself in banqueting
+To all the rout , then hold me dangerous .
+
+
+What means this shouting ? I do fear the people
+Choose C sar for their king .
+
+Ay , do you fear it ?
+Then must I think you would not have it so .
+
+I would not , Cassius ; yet I love him well .
+But wherefore do you hold me here so long ?
+What is it that you would impart to me ?
+If it be aught toward the general good ,
+Set honour in one eye and death i' the other ,
+And I will look on both indifferently ;
+For let the gods so speed me as I love
+The name of honour more than I fear death .
+
+I know that virtue to be in you , Brutus ,
+As well as I do know your outward favour .
+Well , honour is the subject of my story .
+I cannot tell what you and other men
+Think of this life ; but , for my single self ,
+I had as lief not be as live to be
+In awe of such a thing as I myself .
+I was born free as C sar ; so were you :
+We both have fed as well , and we can both
+Endure the winter's cold as well as he :
+For once , upon a raw and gusty day ,
+The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores ,
+C sar said to me , 'Dar'st thou , Cassius , now
+Leap in with me into this angry flood ,
+And swim to yonder point ?' Upon the word ,
+Accoutred as I was , I plunged in
+And bade him follow ; so , indeed he did .
+The torrent roar'd , and we did buffet it
+With lusty sinews , throwing it aside
+And stemming it with hearts of controversy ;
+But ere we could arrive the point propos'd ,
+C sar cried , 'Help me , Cassius , or I sink !'
+I , as neas , our great ancestor ,
+Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder
+The old Anchises bear , so from the waves of Tiber
+Did I the tired C sar . And this man
+Is now become a god , and Cassius is
+A wretched creature and must bend his body
+If C sar carelessly but nod on him .
+He had a fever when he was in Spain ,
+And when the fit was on him , I did mark
+How he did shake ; 'tis true , this god did shake ;
+His coward lips did from their colour fly ,
+And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world
+Did lose his lustre ; I did hear him groan ;
+Ay , and that tongue of his that bade the Romans
+Mark him and write his speeches in their books ,
+Alas ! it cried , 'Give me some drink , Titinius ,'
+As a sick girl . Ye gods , it doth amaze me ,
+A man of such a feeble temper should
+So get the start of the majestic world ,
+And bear the palm alone .
+
+
+Another general shout !
+I do believe that these applauses are
+For some new honours that are heaped on C sar .
+
+Why , man , he doth bestride the narrow world
+Like a Colossus ; and we petty men
+Walk under his huge legs , and peep about
+To find ourselves dishonourable graves .
+Men at some time are masters of their fates :
+The fault , dear Brutus , is not in our stars ,
+But in ourselves , that we are underlings .
+Brutus and C sar : what should be in that 'C sar ?'
+Why should that name be sounded more than yours ?
+Write them together , yours is as fair a name ;
+Sound them , it doth become the mouth as well ;
+Weigh them , it is as heavy ; conjure with 'em ,
+'Brutus' will start a spirit as soon as 'C sar .'
+Now , in the names of all the gods at once ,
+Upon what meat doth this our C sar feed ,
+That he is grown so great ? Age , thou art sham'd !
+Rome , thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods !
+When went there by an age , since the great flood ,
+But it was fam'd with more than with one man ?
+When could they say , till now , that talk'd of Rome ,
+That her wide walls encompass'd but one man ?
+Now is it Rome indeed and room enough ,
+When there is in it but one only man .
+O ! you and I have heard our fathers say ,
+There was a Brutus once that would have brook'd
+Th' eternal devil to keep his state in Rome
+As easily as a king .
+
+That you do love me , I am nothing jealous ;
+What you would work me to , I have some aim :
+How I have thought of this and of these times ,
+I shall recount hereafter ; for this present ,
+I would not , so with love I might entreat you ,
+Be any further mov'd . What you have said
+I will consider ; what you have to say
+I will with patience hear , and find a time
+Both meet to hear and answer such high things .
+Till then , my noble friend , chew upon this :
+Brutus had rather be a villager
+Than to repute himself a son of Rome
+Under these hard conditions as this time
+Is like to lay upon us .
+
+I am glad
+That my weak words have struck but thus much show
+Of fire from Brutus .
+
+The games are done and C sar is returning .
+
+As they pass by , pluck Casca by the sleeve ,
+And he will , after his sour fashion , tell you
+What hath proceeded worthy note to-day .
+
+
+I will do so . But , look you , Cassius ,
+The angry spot doth glow on C sar's brow ,
+And all the rest look like a chidden train :
+Calphurnia's cheek is pale , and Cicero
+Looks with such ferret and such fiery eyes
+As we have seen him in the Capitol ,
+Being cross'd in conference by some senators .
+
+Casca will tell us what the matter is .
+
+Antonius !
+
+C sar .
+
+Let me have men about me that are fat ;
+Sleek-headed men and such as sleep o' nights .
+Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look ;
+He thinks too much : such men are dangerous :
+
+Fear him not , C sar , he's not dangerous ;
+He is a noble Roman , and well given .
+
+Would he were fatter ! but I fear him not :
+Yet if my name were liable to fear ,
+I do not know the man I should avoid
+So soon as that spare Cassius . He reads much ;
+He is a great observer , and he looks
+Quite through the deeds of men ; he loves no plays ,
+As thou dost , Antony ; he hears no music ;
+Seldom he smiles , and smiles in such a sort
+As if he mock'd himself , and scorn'd his spirit
+That could be mov'd to smile at any thing .
+Such men as he be never at heart's ease
+Whiles they behold a greater than themselves ,
+And therefore are they very dangerous .
+I rather tell thee what is to be fear'd
+Than what I fear , for always I am C sar .
+Come on my right hand , for this ear is deaf ,
+And tell me truly what thou think'st of him .
+
+
+You pull'd me by the cloak ; would you speak with me ?
+
+Ay , Casca ; tell us what hath chanc'd to-day ,
+That C sar looks so sad .
+
+Why , you were with him , were you not ?
+
+I should not then ask Casca what had chanc'd .
+
+Why , there was a crown offered him ; and , being offered him , he put it by with the back of his hand , thus ; and then the people fell a-shouting .
+
+What was the second noise for ?
+
+Why , for that too .
+
+They shouted thrice : what was the last cry for ?
+
+Why , for that too .
+
+Was the crown offered him thrice ?
+
+Ay , marry , was 't , and he put it by thrice , everytime gentler than other ; and at every putting-by mine honest neighbours shouted .
+
+Who offered him the crown ?
+
+Why , Antony .
+
+Tell us the manner of it , gentle Casca .
+
+I can as well be hanged as tell the manner of it : it was mere foolery ; I did not mark it . I saw Mark Antony offer him a crown ; yet 'twas not a crown neither , 'twas one of these coronets ; and , as I told you , he put it by once ; but , for all that , to my thinking , he would fain have had it . Then he offered it to him again ; then he put it by again ; but , to my thinking , he was very loath to lay his fingers off it . And then he offered it the third time ; he put it the third time by ; and still as he refused it the rabblement shouted and clapped their chopped hands , and threw up their sweaty night-caps , and uttered such a deal of stinking breath because C sar refused the crown , that it had almost choked C sar ; for he swounded and fell down at it : and for mine own part , I durst not laugh , for fear of opening my lips and receiving the bad air .
+
+But soft , I pray you : what ! did C sar swound ?
+
+He fell down in the market-place , and foamed at mouth , and was speechless .
+
+'Tis very like : he hath the falling-sickness .
+
+No , C sar hath it not ; but you , and I , And honest Casca , we have the falling-sickness .
+
+I know not what you mean by that ; but I am sure C sar fell down . If the tag-rag people did not clap him and hiss him , according as he pleased and displeased them , as they use to do the players in the theatre , I am no true man .
+
+What said he , when he came unto himself ?
+
+Marry , before he fell down , when he perceiv'd the common herd was glad he refused the crown , he plucked me ope his doublet and offered them his throat to cut . An I had been a man of any occupation , if I would not have taken him at a word , I would I might go to hell among the rogues . And so he fell . When he came to himself again , he said , if he had done or said any thing amiss , he desired their worships to think it was his infirmity . Three or four wenches , where I stood , cried , 'Alas ! good soul ,' and forgave him with all their hearts : but there's no head to be taken of them ; if C sar had stabbed their mothers , they would have done no less .
+
+And after that he came , thus sad , away ?
+
+Ay .
+
+Did Cicero say any thing ?
+
+Ay , he spoke Greek .
+
+To what effect ?
+
+Nay , an I tell you that , I'll ne'er look you i' the face again ; but those that understood him smiled at one another and shook their heads ; but , for mine own part , it was Greek to me . I could tell you more news too ; Marullus and Flavius , for pulling scarfs off C sar's images , are put to silence . Fare you well . There was more foolery yet , if I could remember it .
+
+Will you sup with me to-night , Casca ?
+
+No , I am promised forth .
+
+Will you dine with me to-morrow ?
+
+Ay , if I be alive , and your mind hold , and your dinner worth the eating .
+
+Good ; I will expect you .
+
+Do so . Farewell , both .
+
+
+What a blunt fellow is this grown to be !
+He was quick mettle when he went to school .
+
+So is he now in execution
+Of any bold or noble enterprise ,
+However he puts on this tardy form .
+This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit ,
+Which gives men stomach to digest his words
+With better appetite .
+
+And so it is . For this time I will leave you :
+To-morrow , if you please to speak with me ,
+I will come home to you ; or , if you will ,
+Come home to me , and I will wait for you .
+
+I will do so : till then , think of the world .
+
+Well , Brutus , thou art noble ; yet , I see ,
+Thy honourable metal may be wrought
+From that it is dispos'd : therefore 'tis meet
+That noble minds keep ever with their likes ;
+For who so firm that cannot be seduc'd ?
+C sar doth bear me hard ; but he loves Brutus :
+If I were Brutus now and he were Cassius
+He should not humour me . I will this night ,
+In several hands , in at his windows throw ,
+As if they came from several citizens ,
+Writings all tending to the great opinion
+That Rome holds of his name ; wherein obscurely
+C sar's ambition shall be glanced at :
+And after this let C sar seat him sure ;
+For we will shake him , or worse days endure .
+
+
+Good even , Casca : brought you C sar home ?
+Why are you breathless ? and why stare you so ?
+
+Are not you mov'd , when all the sway of earth
+Shakes like a thing unfirm ? O Cicero !
+I have seen tempests , when the scolding winds
+Have riv'd the knotty oaks ; and I have seen
+The ambitious ocean swell and rage and foam ,
+To be exalted with the threat'ning clouds :
+But never till to-night , never till now ,
+Did I go through a tempest dropping fire .
+Either there is a civil strife in heaven ,
+Or else the world , too saucy with the gods ,
+Incenses them to send destruction .
+
+Why , saw you any thing more wonderful ?
+
+A common slave you know him well by sight
+Held up his left hand , which did flame and burn
+Like twenty torches join'd ; and yet his hand ,
+Not sensible of fire , remain'd unscorch'd .
+Besides ,I have not since put up my sword ,
+Against the Capitol I met a hon ,
+Who glar'd upon me , and went surly by ,
+Without annoying me ; and there were drawn
+Upon a heap a hundred ghastly women ,
+Transformed with their fear , who swore they saw
+Men all in fire walk up and down the streets .
+And yesterday the bird of night did sit ,
+Even at noon-day , upon the market-place ,
+Hooting and shrieking . When these prodigies
+Do so conjointly meet , let not men say
+'These are their reasons , they are natural ;'
+For , I believe , they are portentous things
+Unto the climate that they point upon .
+
+Indeed , it is a strange-disposed time :
+But men may construe things after their fashion ,
+Clean from the purpose of the things themselves .
+Comes C sar to the Capitol to-morrow ?
+
+He doth ; for he did bid Antonius
+Send word to you he would be there to-morrow .
+
+Good-night then , Casca : this disturbed sky
+Is not to walk in .
+
+Farewell , Cicero .
+
+Who's there ?
+
+A Roman .
+
+Casca , by your voice .
+
+Your ear is good . Cassius , what night is this !
+
+A very pleasing night to honest men .
+
+Who ever knew the heavens menace so ?
+
+Those that have known the earth so full of faults .
+For my part , I have walk'd about the streets ,
+Submitting me unto the perilous night ,
+And , thus unbraced , Casca , as you see ,
+Have bar'd my bosom to the thunder-stone ;
+And , when the cross blue lightning seem'd to open
+The breast of heaven , I did present myself
+Even in the aim and very flash of it .
+
+But wherefore did you so much tempt the heavens ?
+It is the part of men to fear and tremble
+When the most mighty gods by tokens send
+Such dreadful heralds to astonish us .
+
+You are dull , Casca , and those sparks of life
+That should be in a Roman you do want ,
+Or else you use not . You look pale , and gaze ,
+And put on fear , and cast yourself in wonder ,
+To see the strange impatience of the heavens ;
+But if you would consider the true cause
+Why all these fires , why all these gliding ghosts ,
+Why birds and beasts , from quality and kind ;
+Why old men , fools , and children calculate ;
+Why all these things change from their ordinance ,
+Their natures , and pre-formed faculties ,
+To monstrous quality , why , you shall find
+That heaven hath infus'd them with these spirits
+To make them instruments of fear and warning
+Unto some monstrous state .
+Now could I , Casca , name to thee a man
+Most like this dreadful night ,
+That thunders , lightens , opens graves , and roars
+As doth the lion in the Capitol ,
+A man no mightier than thyself or me
+In personal action , yet prodigious grown
+And fearful as these strange eruptions are .
+
+'Tis C sar that you mean ; is it not , Cassius ?
+
+Let it be who it is : for Romans now
+Have thews and limbs like to their ancestors ;
+But , woe the while ! our fathers' minds are dead ,
+And we are govern'd with our mothers' spirits ;
+Our yoke and sufferance show us womanish .
+
+Indeed , they say the senators to-morrow
+Mean to establish C sar as a king ;
+And he shall wear his crown by sea and land ,
+In every place , save here in Italy .
+
+I know where I will wear this dagger then ;
+Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius :
+Therein , ye gods , you make the weak most strong ;
+Therein , ye gods , you tyrants do defeat :
+Nor stony tower , nor walls of beaten brass ,
+Nor airless dungeon , nor strong links of iron ,
+Can be retentive to the strength of spirit ;
+But life , being weary of those worldly bars ,
+Never lacks power to dismiss itself .
+If I know this , know all the world besides ,
+That part of tyranny that I do bear
+I can shake off at pleasure .
+
+
+So can I :
+So every bondman in his own hand bears
+The power to cancel his captivity .
+
+And why should C sar be a tyrant then ?
+Poor man ! I know he would not be a wolf
+But that he sees the Romans are but sheep ;
+He were no lion were not Romans hinds .
+Those that with haste will make a mighty fire
+Begin it with weak straws ; what trash is Rome ,
+What rubbish , and what offal , when it serves
+For the base matter to illuminate
+So vile a thing as C sar ! But , O grief !
+Where hast thou led me ? I , perhaps , speak this
+Before a willing bondman ; then I know
+My answer must be made : but I am arm'd ,
+And dangers are to me indifferent .
+
+You speak to Casca , and to such a man
+That is no fleering tell-tale . Hold , my hand :
+Be factious for redress of all these griefs ,
+And I will set this foot of mine as far
+As who goes furthest .
+
+There's a bargain made .
+Now know you , Casca , I have mov'd already
+Some certain of the noblest-minded Romans
+To undergo with me an enterprise
+Of honourable-dangerous consequence ;
+And I do know by this they stay for me
+In Pompey's porch : for now , this fearful night ,
+There is no stir , or walking in the streets ;
+And the complexion of the element
+In favour's like the work we have in hand ,
+Most bloody , fiery , and most terrible .
+
+Stand close awhile , for here comes one in haste .
+
+'Tis Cinna ; I do know him by his gait :
+He is a friend .
+
+Cinna , where haste you so ?
+
+To find out you . Who's that ? Metellus Cimber ?
+
+No , it is Casca ; one incorporate
+To our attempts . Am I not stay'd for , Cinna ?
+
+I am glad on 't . What a fearful night is this !
+There's two or three of us have seen strange sights .
+
+Am I not stay'd for ? Tell me .
+
+Yes , you are .
+O Cassius ! if you could
+But win the noble Brutus to our party
+
+Be you content . Good Cinna , take this paper ,
+And look you lay it in the pr tor's chair ,
+Where Brutus may but find it ; and throw this
+In at his window ; set this up with wax
+Upon old Brutus' statue : all this done ,
+Repair to Pompey's porch , where you shall find us .
+Is Decius Brutus and Trebonius there ?
+
+All but Metellus Cimber ; and he's gone
+To seek you at your house . Well , I will hie ,
+And so bestow these papers as you bade me .
+
+That done , repair to Pompey's theatre .
+
+Come , Casca , you and I will yet ere day
+See Brutus at his house : three parts of him
+Is ours already , and the man entire
+Upon the next encounter yields him ours .
+
+O ! he sits high in all the people's hearts :
+And that which would appear offence in us ,
+His countenance , like richest alchemy ,
+Will change to virtue and to worthiness .
+
+Him and his worth and our great need of him
+You have right well conceited . Let us go ,
+For it is after midnight ; and ere day
+We will awake him and be sure of him .
+
+What , Lucius ! ho !
+I cannot , by the progress of the stars ,
+Give guess how near to day . Lucius , I say !
+I would it were my fault to sleep so soundly .
+When , Lucius , when ! Awake , I say ! what , Lucius !
+
+
+Call'd you , my lord ?
+
+Get me a taper in my study , Lucius :
+When it is lighted , come and call me here .
+
+I will , my lord .
+
+
+It must be by his death : and , for my part ,
+I know no personal cause to spurn at him ,
+But for the general . He would be crown'd :
+How that might change his nature , there's the question :
+It is the bright day that brings forth the adder ;
+And that craves wary walking . Crown him ?that !
+And then , I grant , we put a sting in him ,
+That at his will he may do danger with .
+The abuse of greatness is when it disjoins
+Remorse from power ; and , to speak truth of C sar ,
+I have not known when his affections sway'd
+More than his reason . But 'tis a common proof ,
+That lowliness is young ambition's ladder ,
+Whereto the climber-upward turns his face ;
+But when he once attains the upmost round ,
+He then unto the ladder turns his back ,
+Looks in the clouds , scorning the base degrees
+By which he did ascend . So C sar may :
+Then , lest he may , prevent . And , since the quarrel
+Will bear no colour for the thing he is ,
+Fashion it thus ; that what he is , augmented ,
+Would run to these and these extremities ;
+And therefore think him as a serpent's egg
+Which , hatch'd , would , as his kind , grow mischievous ,
+And kill him in the shell .
+
+
+The taper burneth in your closet , sir .
+Searching the window for a flint , I found
+This paper , thus seal'd up ; and I am sure
+It did not lie there when I went to bed .
+
+Get you to bed again ; it is not day .
+Is not to-morrow , boy , the ides of March ?
+
+I know not , sir .
+
+Look in the calendar , and bring me word .
+
+I will , sir .
+
+
+The exhalations whizzing in the air
+Give so much light that I may read by them .
+
+Brutus , thou sleep'st : awake and see thyself .
+Shall Rome , &c . Speak , strike , redress !
+Brutus , thou sleep'st : awake !
+Such instigations have been often dropp'd
+Where I have took them up .
+'Shall Rome , &c .' Thus must I piece it out :
+Shall Rome stand under one man's awe ? What , Rome ?
+My ancestors did from the streets of Rome
+The Tarquin drive , when he was call'd a king .
+'Speak , strike , redress !' Am I entreated
+To speak , and strike ? O Rome ! I make thee promise ;
+If the redress will follow , thou receiv'st
+Thy full petition at the hand of Brutus !
+
+
+Sir , March is wasted fourteen days .
+
+
+'Tis good . Go to the gate : somebody knocks .
+
+Since Cassius first did whet me against C sar ,
+I have not slept .
+Between the acting of a dreadful thing
+And the first motion , all the interim is
+Like a phantasma , or a hideous dream :
+The genius and the mortal instruments
+Are then in council ; and the state of man ,
+Like to a little kingdom , suffers then
+The nature of an insurrection .
+
+
+Sir , 'tis your brother Cassius at the door ,
+Who doth desire to see you .
+
+Is he alone ?
+
+No , sir , there are more with him .
+
+Do you know them ?
+
+No , sir ; their hats are pluck'd about their ears ,
+And half their faces buried in their cloaks ,
+That by no means I may discover them
+By any mark of favour .
+
+Let 'em enter .
+
+They are the faction . O conspiracy !
+Sham'st thou to show thy dangerous brow by night ,
+When evils are most free ? O ! then by day
+Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough
+To mask thy monstrous visage ? Seek none , conspiracy ;
+Hide it in smiles and affability :
+For if thou path , thy native semblance on ,
+Not Erebus itself were dim enough
+To hide thee from prevention .
+
+
+I think we are too bold upon your rest :
+Good morrow , Brutus ; do we trouble you ?
+
+I have been up this hour , awake all night .
+Know I these men that come along with you ?
+
+Yes , every man of them ; and no man here
+But honours you ; and every one doth wish
+You had but that opinion of yourself
+Which every noble Roman bears of you .
+This is Trebonius .
+
+He is welcome hither .
+
+This , Decius Brutus .
+
+He is welcome too .
+
+This , Casca ; this , Cinna ;
+And this , Metellus Cimber .
+
+They are all welcome .
+What watchful cares do interpose themselves
+Betwixt your eyes and night ?
+
+Shall I entreat a word ?
+
+
+Here lies the east : doth not the day break here ?
+
+No .
+
+O ! pardon , sir , it doth ; and yon grey lines
+That fret the clouds are messengers of day .
+
+You shall confess that you are both deceiv'd .
+Here , as I point my sword , the sun arises ;
+Which is a great way growing on the south ,
+Weighing the youthful season of the year .
+Some two months hence up higher toward the north
+He first presents his fire ; and the high east
+Stands , as the Capitol , directly here .
+
+Give me your hands all over , one by one .
+
+And let us swear our resolution .
+
+No , not an oath : if not the face of men ,
+The sufferance of our souls , the time's abuse ,
+If these be motives weak , break off betimes ,
+And every man hence to his idle bed ;
+So let high-sighted tyranny range on ,
+Till each man-drop by lottery . But if these ,
+As I am sure they do , bear fire enough
+To kindle cowards and to steel with valour
+The melting spirits of women , then , countrymen ,
+What need we any spur but our own cause
+To prick us to redress ? what other bond
+Than secret Romans , that have spoke the word
+And will not palter ? and what other oath
+Than honesty to honesty engag'd ,
+That this shall be , or we will fall for it ?
+Swear priests and cowards and men cautelous ,
+Old feeble carrions and such suffering souls
+That welcome wrongs ; unto bad causes swear
+Such creatures as men doubt ; but do not stain
+The even virtue of our enterprise ,
+Nor th' insuppressive mettle of our spirits ,
+To think that or our cause or our performance
+Did need an oath ; when every drop of blood
+That every Roman bears , and nobly bears ,
+Is guilty of a several bastardy ,
+If he do break the smallest particle
+Of any promise that hath pass'd from him .
+
+But what of Cicero ? Shall we sound him ?
+I think he will stand very strong with us .
+
+Let us not leave him out .
+
+No , by no means .
+
+O ! let us have him ; for his silver hairs
+Will purchase us a good opinion
+And buy men's voices to commend our deeds :
+It shall be said his judgment rul'd our hands ;
+Our youths and wildness shall no whit appear ,
+But all be buried in his gravity .
+
+O ! name him not : let us not break with him ;
+For he will never follow any thing
+That other men begin .
+
+Then leave him out .
+
+Indeed he is not fit .
+
+Shall no man else be touch'd but only C sar ?
+
+Decius , well urg'd . I think it is not meet ,
+Mark Antony , so well belov'd of C sar ,
+Should outlive C sar : we shall find of him
+A shrewd contriver ; and , you know , his means ,
+If he improve them , may well stretch so far
+As to annoy us all ; which to prevent ,
+Let Antony and C sar fall together .
+
+Our course will seem too bloody , Caius Cassius ,
+To cut the head off and then hack the limbs ,
+Like wrath in death and envy afterwards ;
+For Antony is but a limb of C sar .
+Let us be sacrificers , but not butchers , Caius .
+We all stand up against the spirit of C sar ;
+And in the spirit of men there is no blood :
+O ! then that we could come by C sar's spirit ,
+And not dismember C sar . But , alas !
+C sar must bleed for it . And , gentle friends ,
+Let's kill him boldly , but not wrathfully ;
+Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods ,
+Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds :
+And let our hearts , as subtle masters do ,
+Stir up their servants to an act of rage ,
+And after seem to chide 'em . This shall make
+Our purpose necessary and not envious ;
+Which so appearing to the common eyes ,
+We shall be call'd purgers , not murderers .
+And , for Mark Antony , think not of him ;
+For he can do no more than C sar's arm
+When C sar's head is off .
+
+Yet I fear him ;
+For in the engrafted love he bears to C sar
+
+Alas ! good Cassius , do not think of him :
+If he love C sar , all that he can do
+Is to himself , take thought and die for C sar :
+And that were much he should ; for he is given
+To sports , to wildness , and much company .
+
+There is no fear in him ; let him not die :
+For he will live , and laugh at this hereafter .
+
+
+Peace ! count the clock .
+
+The clock hath stricken three .
+
+'Tis time to part .
+
+But it is doubtful yet
+Whether C sar will come forth to-day or no ;
+For he is superstitious grown of late ,
+Quite from the main opinion he held once
+Of fantasy , of dreams , and ceremonies .
+It may be , these apparent prodigies ,
+The unaccustom'd terror of this night ,
+And the persuasion of his augurers ,
+May hold him from the Capitol to-day .
+
+Never fear that : if he be so resolv'd ,
+I can o'ersway him ; for he loves to hear
+That unicorns may be betray'd with trees ,
+And bears with glasses , elephants with holes ,
+Lions with toils , and men with flatterers ;
+But when I tell him he hates flatterers ,
+He says he does , being then most flattered .
+Let me work ;
+For I can give his humour the true bent ,
+And I will bring him to the Capitol .
+
+Nay , we will all of us be there to fetch him .
+
+By the eighth hour : is that the uttermost ?
+
+Be that the uttermost , and fail not then .
+
+Caius Ligarius doth bear C sar hard ,
+Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey :
+I wonder none of you have thought of him .
+
+Now , good Metellus , go along by him :
+He loves me well , and I have given him reasons ;
+Send him but hither , and I'll fashion him .
+
+The morning comes upon 's : we'll leave you , Brutus .
+And , friends , disperse yourselves ; but all remember
+What you have said , and show yourselves true Romans .
+
+Good gentlemen , look fresh and merrily ;
+Let not our looks put on our purposes ,
+But bear it as our Roman actors do ,
+With untir'd spirits and formal constancy :
+And so good morrow to you every one .
+
+Boy ! Lucius ! Fast asleep ? It is no matter ;
+Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber :
+Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies
+Which busy care draws in the brains of men ;
+Therefore thou sleep'st so sound .
+
+
+Brutus , my lord !
+
+Portia , what mean you ? Wherefore rise you now ?
+It is not for your health thus to commit
+Your weak condition to the raw cold morning .
+
+Nor for yours neither . You've ungently , Brutus ,
+Stole from my bed ; and yesternight at supper
+You suddenly arose , and walk'd about ,
+Musing and sighing , with your arms across ,
+And when I ask'd you what the matter was ,
+You star'd upon me with ungentle looks .
+I urg'd you further ; then you scratch'd your head ,
+And too impatiently stamp'd with your foot ;
+Yet I insisted , yet you answer'd not ,
+But , with an angry wafture of your hand .
+Gave sign for me to leave you . So I did ,
+Fearing to strengthen that impatience
+Which seem'd too much enkindled , and withal
+Hoping it was but an effect of humour ,
+Which sometime hath his hour with every man .
+It will not let you eat , nor talk , nor sleep ,
+And could it work so much upon your shape
+As it hath much prevail'd on your condition ,
+I should not know you , Brutus . Dear my lord ,
+Make me acquainted with your cause of grief .
+
+I am not well in health , and that is all .
+
+Brutus is wise , and were he not in health ,
+He would embrace the means to come by it .
+
+Why , so I do . Good Portia , go to bed .
+
+Is Brutus sick , and is it physical
+To walk unbraced and suck up the humours
+Of the dank morning ? What ! is Brutus sick ,
+And will he steal out of his wholesome bed
+To dare the vile contagion of the night ,
+And tempt the rheumy and unpurged air
+To add unto his sickness ? No , my Brutus ;
+You have some sick offence within your mind ,
+Which , by the right and virtue of my place ,
+I ought to know of ; and , upon my knees ,
+I charm you , by my once-commended beauty ,
+By all your vows of love , and that great vow
+Which did incorporate and make us one ,
+That you unfold to me , your self , your half ,
+Why are you heavy , and what men to-night
+Have had resort to you ; for here have been
+Some six or seven , who did hide their faces
+Even from darkness .
+
+Kneel not , gentle Portia .
+
+I should not need , if you were gentle Brutus .
+Within the bond of marriage , tell me , Brutus ,
+Is it excepted , I should know no secrets
+That appertain to you ? Am I yourself
+But , as it were , in sort of limitation ,
+To keep with you at meals , comfort your bed ,
+And talk to you sometimes ? Dwell I but in the suburbs
+Of your good pleasure ? If it be no more ,
+Portia is Brutus' harlot , not his wife .
+
+You are my true and honourable wife ,
+As dear to me as are the ruddy drops
+That visit my sad heart .
+
+If this were true then should I know this secret .
+I grant I am a woman , but , withal ,
+A woman that Lord Brutus took to wife ;
+I grant I am a woman , but , withal ,
+A woman well-reputed , Cato's daughter .
+Think you I am no stronger than my sex ,
+Being so father'd and so husbanded ?
+Tell me your counsels , I will not disclose 'em .
+I have made strong proof of my constancy ,
+Giving myself a voluntary wound
+Here , in the thigh : can I bear that with patience
+And not my husband's secrets ?
+
+O ye gods !
+Render me worthy of this noble wife .
+
+Hark , hark ! one knocks . Portia , go in awhile ;
+And by and by thy bosom shall partake
+The secrets of my heart .
+All my engagements I will construe to thee ,
+All the charactery of my sad brows .
+Leave me with haste .
+
+Lucius , who's that knocks ?
+
+
+Here is a sick man that would speak with you .
+
+Caius Ligarius , that Metellus spoke of .
+Boy , stand aside . Caius Ligarius ! how ?
+
+Vouchsafe good morrow from a feeble tongue .
+
+O ! what a time have you chose out , brave Caius ,
+To wear a kerchief . Would you were not sick .
+
+I am not sick if Brutus have in hand
+Any exploit worthy the name of honour .
+
+Such an exploit have I in hand , Ligarius ,
+Had you a healthful ear to hear of it .
+
+By all the gods that Romans bow before
+I here discard my sickness . Soul of Rome !
+Brave son , deriv'd from honourable loins !
+Thou , like an exorcist , hast conjur'd up
+My mortified spirit . Now bid me run ,
+And I will strive with things impossible ;
+Yea , get the better of them . What's to do ?
+
+A piece of work that will make sick men whole .
+
+But are not some whole that we must make sick ?
+
+That must we also . What it is , my Caius ,
+I shall unfold to thee as we are going
+To whom it must be done .
+
+Set on your foot ,
+And with a heart new-fir'd I follow you ,
+To do I know not what ; but it sufficeth
+That Brutus leads me on .
+
+Follow me then .
+
+
+Nor heaven nor earth have been at peace to-night :
+Thrice hath Calphurnia in her sleep cried out ,
+'Help , ho ! They murder C sar !' Who's within ?
+
+
+My lord !
+
+Go bid the priests do present sacrifice ,
+And bring me their opinions of success .
+
+I will , my lord .
+
+What mean you , C sar ? Think you to walk forth ?
+You shall not stir out of your house to-day .
+
+C sar shall forth : the things that threaten'd me
+Ne'er look'd but on my back ; when they shall see
+The face of C sar , they are vanished .
+
+C sar , I never stood on ceremonies ,
+Yet now they fright me . There is one within ,
+Besides the things that we have heard and seen ,
+Recounts most horrid sights seen by the watch .
+A lioness hath whelped in the streets ;
+And graves have yawn'd and yielded up their dead ;
+Fierce fiery warriors fought upon the clouds ,
+In ranks and squadrons and right form of war ,
+Which drizzled blood upon the Capitol ;
+The noise of battle hurtled in the air ,
+Horses did neigh , and dying men did groan ,
+And ghosts did shriek and squeal about the streets .
+O C sar ! these things are beyond all use ,
+And I do fear them .
+
+What can be avoided
+Whose end is purpos'd by the mighty gods ?
+Yet C sar shall go forth ; for these predictions
+Are to the world in general as to C sar .
+
+When beggars die there are no comets seen ;
+The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes .
+
+Cowards die many times before their deaths ;
+The valiant never taste of death but once .
+Of all the wonders that I yet have heard ,
+It seems to me most strange that men should fear ;
+Seeing that death , a necessary end ,
+Will come when it will come .
+
+What say the augurers ?
+
+They would not have you to stir forth to-day .
+Plucking the entrails of an offering forth ,
+They could not find a heart within the beast .
+
+The gods do this in shame of cowardice :
+C sar should be a beast without a heart
+If he should stay at home to-day for fear .
+No , C sar shall not ; danger knows full well
+That C sar is more dangerous than he :
+We are two lions litter'd in one day ,
+And I the elder and more terrible :
+And C sar shall go forth .
+
+Alas ! my lord ,
+Your wisdom is consum'd in confidence .
+Do not go forth to-day : call it my fear
+That keeps you in the house , and not your own .
+We'll send Mark Antony to the senate-house ,
+And he shall say you are not well to-day :
+Let me , upon my knee , prevail in this .
+
+Mark Antony shall say I am not well ;
+And , for thy humour , I will stay at home .
+
+Here's Decius Brutus , he shall tell them so .
+
+C sar , all hail ! Good morrow , worthy C sar :
+I come to fetch you to the senate-house .
+
+And you are come in very happy time
+To bear my greeting to the senators ,
+And tell them that I will not come to-day :
+Cannot , is false , and that I dare not , falser ;
+I will not come to-day : tell them so , Decius .
+
+Say he is sick .
+
+Shall C sar send a lie ?
+Have I in conquest stretch'd mine arm so far
+To be afeard to tell greybeards the truth ?
+Decius , go tell them C sar will not come .
+
+Most mighty C sar , let me know some cause ,
+Lest I be laugh'd at when I tell them so .
+
+The cause is in my will : I will not come ;
+That is enough to satisfy the senate :
+But for your private satisfaction ,
+Because I love you , I will let you know :
+Calphurnia here , my wife , stays me at home :
+She dreamt to-night she saw my statua ,
+Which , like a fountain with a hundred spouts ,
+Did run pure blood ; and many lusty Romans
+Came smiling , and did bathe their hands in it :
+And these does she apply for warnings and portents ,
+And evils imminent ; and on her knee
+Hath begg'd that I will stay at home to-day .
+
+This dream is all amiss interpreted ;
+It was a vision fair and fortunate :
+Your statue spouting blood in many pipes ,
+In which so many smiling Romans bath'd ,
+Signifies that from you great Rome shall suck
+Reviving blood , and that great men shall press
+For tinctures , stains , relics , and cognizance .
+This by Calphurnia's dream is signified .
+
+And this way have you well expounded it .
+
+I have , when you have heard what I can say :
+And know it now : the senate have concluded
+To give this day a crown to mighty C sar .
+If you shall send them word you will not come ,
+Their minds may change . Besides , it were a mock
+Apt to be render'd , for some one to say
+'Break up the senate till another time ,
+When C sar's wife shall meet with better dreams .'
+If C sar hide himself , shall they not whisper
+'Lo ! C sar is afraid ?'
+Pardon me , C sar ; for my dear dear love
+To your proceeding bids me tell you this ,
+And reason to my love is liable .
+
+How foolish do your fears seem now , Calphurnia !
+I am ashamed I did yield to them .
+Give me my robe , for I will go :
+
+And look where Publius is come to fetch me .
+
+Good morrow , C sar .
+
+Welcome , Publius .
+What ! Brutus , are you stirr'd so early too ?
+Good morrow , Casca . Caius Ligarius ,
+C sar was ne'er so much your enemy
+As that same ague which hath made you lean .
+What is't o'clock ?
+
+C sar , 'tis strucken eight .
+
+I thank you for your pains and courtesy .
+
+
+See ! Antony , that revels long o' nights ,
+
+Is notwithstanding up . Good morrow , Antony .
+
+So to most noble C sar .
+
+Bid them prepare within :
+I am to blame to be thus waited for .
+Now , Cinna ; now , Metellus ; what , Trebonius !
+I have an hour's talk in store for you ;
+Remember that you call on me to-day :
+Be near me , that I may remember you .
+
+C sar , I will :
+
+and so near will I be ,
+That your best friends shall wish I had been further .
+
+Good friends , go in , and taste some wine with me ;
+And we , like friends , will straightway go together .
+
+That every like is not the same , O C sar !
+The heart of Brutus yearns to think upon .
+
+
+C sar , beware of Brutus ; take heed of Cassius ; come not near Casca ; have an eye to Cinna ; trust not Trebonius ; mark well Metellus Cimber ; Decius Brutus loves thee not ; thou hast wronged Caius Ligarius . There is but one mind in all these men , and it is bent against C sar . If thou be'st not immortal , look about you : security gives way to conspiracy . The mighty gods defend thee ! Thy lover ,
+Here will I stand till C sar pass along ,
+And as a suitor will I give him this .
+My heart laments that virtue cannot live
+Out of the teeth of emulation .
+If thou read this , O C sar ! thou mayst live ;
+If not , the Fates with traitors do contrive .
+
+
+I prithee , boy , run to the senate-house ;
+Stay not to answer me , but get thee gone .
+Why dost thou stay ?
+
+To know my errand , madam .
+
+I would have had thee there , and here again ,
+Ere I can tell thee what thou shouldst do there .
+O constancy ! be strong upon my side ;
+Set a huge mountain 'tween my heart and tongue ;
+I have a man's mind , but a woman's might .
+How hard it is for women to keep counsel !
+Art thou here yet ?
+
+Madam , what shall I do ?
+Run to the Capitol , and nothing else ?
+And so return to you , and nothing else ?
+
+Yes , bring me word , boy , if thy lord look well ,
+For he went sickly forth ; and take good note
+What C sar doth , what suitors press to him .
+Hark , boy ! what noise is that ?
+
+I hear none , madam .
+
+Prithee , listen well :
+I heard a bustling rumour , like a fray ,
+And the wind brings it from the Capitol .
+
+Sooth , madam , I hear nothing .
+
+
+Come hither , fellow : which way hast thou been ?
+
+At mine own house , good lady .
+
+What is 't o'clock ?
+
+About the ninth hour , lady .
+
+Is C sar yet gone to the Capitol ?
+
+Madam , not yet : I go to take my stand ,
+To see him pass on to the Capitol .
+
+Thou hast some suit to C sar , hast thou not ?
+
+That I have , lady : if it will please C sar
+To be so good to C sar as to hear me ,
+I shall beseech him to befriend himself .
+
+Why , know'st thou any harm's intended towards him ?
+
+None that I know will be , much that I fear may chance .
+Good morrow to you . Here the street is narrow :
+The throng that follows C sar at the heels ,
+Of senators , of pr tors , common suitors ,
+Will crowd a feeble man almost to death :
+I'll get me to a place more void , and there
+Speak to great C sar as he comes along .
+
+
+I must go in . Ay me ! how weak a thing
+The heart of woman is . O Brutus !
+The heavens speed thee in thine enterprise .
+Sure , the boy heard me : Brutus hath a suit
+That C sar will not grant . O ! I grow faint .
+Run , Lucius , and commend me to my lord ;
+Say I am merry : come to me again ,
+And bring me word what he doth say to thee .
+
+The idea of March are come .
+
+Ay , C sar ; but not gone .
+
+Hail , C sar ! Read this schedule .
+
+Trebonius doth desire you to o'er-read ,
+At your best leisure , this his humble suit .
+
+O C sar ! read mine first ; for mine's a suit
+That touches C sar nearer . Read it , great C sar .
+
+What touches us ourself shall be last serv'd
+
+Delay not , C sar ; read it instantly .
+
+What ! is the fellow mad ?
+
+Sirrah , give place .
+
+What ! urge you your petitions in the street ?
+Come to the Capitol .
+
+
+I wish your enterprise to-day may thrive .
+
+What enterprise , Popilius ?
+
+Fare you well .
+
+
+What said Popilius Lena ?
+
+He wish'd to-day our enterprise might thrive .
+I fear our purpose is discovered .
+
+Look , how he makes to C sar : mark him .
+
+Casca , be sudden , for we fear prevention .
+Brutus , what shall be done ? If this be known ,
+Cassius or C sar never shall turn back ,
+For I will slay myself .
+
+Cassius , be constant :
+Popilius Lena speaks not of our purposes ;
+For , look , he smiles , and C sar doth not change .
+
+Trebonius knows his time ; for , look you , Brutus ,
+He draws Mark Antony out of the way .
+
+
+Where is Metellus Cimber ? Let him go ,
+And presently prefer his suit to C sar .
+
+He is address'd ; press near and second him .
+
+Casca , you are the first that rears your hand .
+
+Are we all ready ? What is now amiss ,
+That C sar and his senate must redress ?
+
+Most high , most mighty , and most puissant C sar ,
+Metellus Cimber throws before thy seat
+A humble heart ,
+
+
+I must prevent thee , Cimber .
+These couchings and these lowly courtesies ,
+Might fire the blood of ordinary men ,
+And turn pre-ordinance and first decree
+Into the law of children . Be not fond ,
+To think that C sar bears such rebel blood
+That will be thaw'd from the true quality
+With that which melteth fools ; I mean sweet words ,
+Low-crooked curtsies , and base spaniel fawning .
+Thy brother by decree is banished :
+If thou dost bend and pray and fawn for him ,
+I spurn thee like a cur out of my way .
+Know , C sar doth not wrong , nor without cause
+Will he be satisfied .
+
+Is there no voice more worthy than my own ,
+To sound more sweetly in great C sar's ear
+For the repealing of my banish'd brother ?
+
+I kiss thy hand , but not in flattery , C sar ;
+Desiring thee , that Publius Cimber may
+Have an immediate freedom of repeal .
+
+What , Brutus !
+
+Pardon , C sar ; C sar , pardon :
+As low as to thy foot doth Cassius fall ,
+To beg enfranchisement for Publius Cimber .
+
+I could be well mov'd if I were as you ;
+If I could pray to move , prayers would move me ;
+But I am constant as the northern star ,
+Of whose true-fix'd and resting quality
+There is no fellow in the firmament .
+The skies are painted with unnumber'd sparks ,
+They are all fire and every one doth shine ,
+But there's but one in all doth hold his place :
+So , in the world ; 'tis furnish'd well with men ,
+And men are flesh and blood , and apprehensive ;
+Yet in the number I do know but one
+That unassailable holds on his rank ,
+Unshak'd of motion : and that I am he ,
+Let me a little show it , even in this ,
+That I was constant Cimber should be banish'd ,
+And constant do remain to keep him so .
+
+O C sar ,
+
+Hence ! Wilt thou lift up Olympus !
+
+Great C sar ,
+
+Doth not Brutus bootless kneel ?
+
+Speak , hands , for me !
+
+
+Et tu , Brute ? Then fall , C sar !
+
+
+Liberty ! Freedom ! Tyranny is dead !
+Run hence , proclaim , cry it about the streets .
+
+Some to the common pulpits , and cry out ,
+'Liberty , freedom , and enfranchisement !'
+
+People and senators be not affrighted ;
+Fly not ; stand still ; ambition's debt is paid .
+
+Go to the pulpit , Brutus .
+
+And Cassius too .
+
+Where's Publius ?
+
+Here , quite confounded with this mutiny .
+
+Stand fast together , lest some friend of C sar's
+Should chance
+
+Talk not of standing . Publius , good cheer ;
+There is no harm intended to your person ,
+Nor to no Roman else ; so tell them , Publius .
+
+And leave us , Publius ; lest that the people ,
+Rushing on us , should do your age some mischief .
+
+Do so ; and let no man abide this deed
+But we the doers .
+
+
+Where's Antony ?
+
+Fled to his house amaz'd .
+Men , wives and children stare , cry out and run
+As it were doomsday .
+
+Fates , we will know your pleasures .
+That we shall die , we know ; 'tis but the time
+And drawing days out , that men stand upon .
+
+Why , he that cuts off twenty years of life
+Cuts off so many years of fearing death .
+
+Grant that , and then is death a benefit :
+So are we C sar's friends , that have abridg'd
+His time of fearing death . Stoop , Romans , stoop ,
+And let us bathe our hands in C sar's blood
+Up to the elbows , and besmear our swords :
+Then walk we forth , even to the market-place ;
+And waving our red weapons o'er our heads ,
+Let's all cry , 'Peace , freedom , and liberty !'
+
+Stoop , then , and wash . How many ages hence
+Shall this our lofty scene be acted o'er ,
+In states unborn and accents yet unknown !
+
+How many times shall C sar bleed in sport ,
+That now on Pompey's basis lies along
+No worthier than the dust !
+
+So oft as that shall be ,
+So often shall the knot of us be call'd
+The men that gave their country liberty .
+
+What ! shall we forth ?
+
+Ay , every man away :
+Brutus shall lead ; and we will grace his heels
+With the most boldest and best hearts of Rome .
+
+
+Soft ! who comes here ? A friend of Antony's .
+
+Thus , Brutus , did my master bid me kneel ;
+Thus did Mark Antony bid me fall down ;
+And , being prostrate , thus he bade me say :
+Brutus is noble , wise , valiant , and honest ;
+C sar was mighty , bold , royal , and loving :
+Say I love Brutus , and I honour him ;
+Say I fear'd C sar , honour'd him , and lov'd him .
+If Brutus will vouchsafe that Antony
+May safely come to him , and be resolv'd
+How C sar hath deserv'd to lie in death ,
+Mark Antony shall not love C sar dead
+So well as Brutus living ; but will follow
+The fortunes and affairs of noble Brutus
+Thorough the hazards of this untrod state
+With all true faith . So says my master Antony .
+
+Thy master is a wise and valiant Roman ;
+I never thought him worse .
+Tell him , so please him come unto this place ,
+He shall be satisfied ; and , by my honour ,
+Depart untouch'd .
+
+I'll fetch him presently .
+
+
+I know that we shall have him well to friend .
+
+I wish we may : but yet have I a mind
+That fears him much ; and my misgiving still
+Falls shrewdly to the purpose .
+
+
+But here comes Antony . Welcome , Mark Antony .
+
+O mighty C sar ! dost thou lie so low ?
+Are all thy conquests , glories , triumphs , spoils ,
+Shrunk to this little measure ? Fare thee well .
+I know not , gentlemen , what you intend ,
+Who else must be let blood , who else is rank :
+If I myself , there is no hour so fit
+As C sar's death's hour , nor no instrument
+Of half that worth as those your swords , made rich
+With the most noble blood of all this world .
+I do beseech ye , if ye bear me hard ,
+Now , whilst your purpled hands do reek and smoke ,
+Fulfil your pleasure . Live a thousand years ,
+I shall not find myself so apt to die :
+No place will please me so , no mean of death ,
+As here by C sar , and by you cut off ,
+The choice and master spirits of this age .
+
+O Antony ! beg not your death of us .
+Though now we must appear bloody and cruel ,
+As , by our hands and this our present act ,
+You see we do , yet see you but our hands
+And this the bleeding business they have done :
+Our hearts you see not ; they are pitiful ;
+And pity to the general wrong of Rome
+As fire drives out fire , so pity pity
+Hath done this deed on C sar . For your part ,
+To you our swords have leaden points , Mark Antony ;
+Our arms , in strength of malice , and our hearts
+Of brothers' temper , do receive you in
+With all kind love , good thoughts , and reverence .
+
+Your voice shall be as strong as any man's
+In the disposing of new dignities .
+
+Only be patient till we have appeas'd
+The multitude , beside themselves with fear ,
+And then we will deliver you the cause
+Why I , that did love C sar when I struck him ,
+Have thus proceeded .
+
+I doubt not of your wisdom .
+Let each man render me his bloody hand :
+First , Marcus Brutus , will I shake with you ;
+Next , Caius Cassius , do I take your hand ;
+Now , Decius Brutus , yours ; now yours , Metellus ;
+Yours , Cinna ; and , my valiant Casca , yours ;
+Though last , not least in love , yours , good Trebonius .
+Gentlemen all ,alas ! what shall I say ?
+My credit now stands on such slippery ground ,
+That one of two bad ways you must conceit me ,
+Either a coward or a flatterer .
+That I did love thee , C sar , O ! 'tis true :
+If then thy spirit look upon us now ,
+Shall it not grieve thee dearer than thy death ,
+To see thy Antony making his peace ,
+Shaking the bloody fingers of thy foes ,
+Most noble ! in the presence of thy corse ?
+Had I as many eyes as thou hast wounds ,
+Weeping as fast as they stream forth thy blood ,
+It would become me better than to close
+In terms of friendship with thine enemies .
+Pardon me , Julius ! Here wast thou bay'd , brave hart ;
+Here didst thou fall ; and here thy hunters stand ,
+Sign'd in thy spoil , and crimson'd in thy leth
+O world ! thou wast the forest to this hart ;
+And this , indeed , O world ! the heart of thee .
+How like a deer , strucken by many princes ,
+Dost thou here lie !
+
+Mark Antony ,
+
+Pardon me , Caius Cassius :
+The enemies of C sar shall say this ;
+Then , in a friend , it is cold modesty .
+
+I blame you not for praising C sar so ;
+But what compact mean you to have with us ?
+Will you be prick'd in number of our friends ,
+Or shall we on , and not depend on you ?
+
+Therefore I took your hands , but was indeed
+Sway'd from the point by looking down on C sar .
+Friends am I with you all , and love you all ,
+Upon this hope , that you shall give me reasons
+Why and wherein C sar was dangerous .
+
+Or else were this a savage spectacle .
+Our reasons are so full of good regard
+That were you , Antony , the son of C sar ,
+You should be satisfied .
+
+That's all I seek :
+And am moreover suitor that I may
+Produce his body to the market place ;
+And in the pulpit , as becomes a friend ,
+Speak in the order of his funeral .
+
+You shall , Mark Antony .
+
+Brutus , a word with you .
+
+
+You know not what you do ; do not consent
+That Antony speak in his funeral :
+Know you how much the people may be mov'd
+By that which he will utter ?
+
+By your pardon ;
+I will myself into the pulpit first ,
+And show the reason of our C sar's death :
+What Antony shall speak , I will protest
+He speaks by leave and by permission ,
+And that we are contented C sar shall
+Have all true rites and lawful ceremonies .
+It shall advantage more than do us wrong .
+
+I know not what may fall ; I like it not .
+
+Mark Antony , here , take you C sar's body .
+You shall not in your funeral speech blame us ,
+But speak all good you can devise of C sar ,
+And say you do 't by our permission ;
+Else shall you not have any hand at all
+About his funeral ; and you shall speak
+In the same pulpit whereto I am going ,
+After my speech is ended .
+
+Be it so ;
+I do desire no more .
+
+Prepare the body then , and follow us .
+
+
+O ! pardon me , thou bleeding piece of earth ,
+That I am meek and gentle with these butchers ;
+Thou art the ruins of the noblest man
+That ever lived in the tide of times .
+Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood !
+Over thy wounds now do I prophesy ,
+Which like dumb mouths do ope their ruby lips ,
+To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue ,
+A curse shall light upon the limbs of men ;
+Domestic fury and fierce civil strife
+Shall cumber all the parts of Italy ;
+Blood and destruction shall be so in use ,
+And dreadful objects so familiar ,
+That mothers shall but smile when they behold
+Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war ;
+All pity chok'd with custom of fell deeds :
+And C sar's spirit , ranging for revenge ,
+With Ate by his side come hot from hell ,
+Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice
+Cry 'Havoc !' and let slip the dogs of war ;
+That this foul deed shall smell above the earth
+With carrion men , groaning for burial .
+
+You serve Octavius C sar , do you not ?
+
+I do , Mark Antony .
+
+C sar did write for him to come to Rome .
+
+He did receive his letters , and is coming ;
+And bid me say to you by word of mouth
+
+O C sar !
+
+Thy heart is big , get thee apart and weep .
+Passion , I see , is catching ; for mine eyes ,
+Seeing those beads of sorrow stand in thine ,
+Began to water . Is thy master coming ?
+
+He lies to-night within seven leagues of Rome .
+
+Post back with speed , and tell him what hath chanc'd :
+Hare is a mourning Rome , a dangerous Rome ,
+No Rome of safety for Octavius yet ;
+Hie hence and tell him so . Yet , stay awhile ;
+Thou shalt not back till I have borne this corpse
+Into the market-place ; there shall I try ,
+In my oration , how the people take
+The cruel issue of these bloody men ;
+According to the which thou shalt discourse
+To young Octavius of the state of things .
+Lead me your hand .
+
+
+We will be satisfied : let us be satisfied .
+
+Then follow me , and give me audience , friends .
+Cassius , go you into the other street ,
+And part the numbers .
+Those that will hear me speak , let 'em stay here ;
+Those that will follow Cassius , go with him ;
+And public reasons shall be rendered
+Of C sar's death .
+
+I will hear Brutus speak .
+
+I will hear Cassius ; and compare their reasons ,
+When severally we hear them rendered .
+
+
+The noble Brutus is ascended : silence !
+
+Be patient till the last .
+Romans , countrymen , and lovers ! hear me for my cause ; and be silent , that you may hear : believe me for mine honour , and have respect to mine honour , that you may believe : censure me in your wisdom , and awake your senses , that you may the better judge . If there be any in this assembly , any dear friend of C sar's , to him I say , that Brutus' love to C sar was no less than his . If then that friend demand why Brutus rose against C sar , this is my answer : Not that I loved C sar less , but that I loved Rome more . Had you rather C sar were living , and die all slaves , than that C sar were dead , to live all free men ? As C sar loved me , I weep for him ; as he was fortunate , I rejoice at it ; as he was valiant , I honour him ; but , as he was ambitious , I slew him . There is tears for his love ; joy for his fortune ; honour for his valour ; and death for his ambition . Who is here so base that would be a bondman ? If any , speak ; for him have I offended . Who is here so rude that would not be a Roman ? If any , speak ; for him have I offended . Who is here so vile that will not love his country ? If any , speak ; for him have I offended . I pause for a reply .
+
+None , Brutus , none .
+
+Then none have I offended . I have done no more to C sar , than you shall do to Brutus . The question of his death is enrolled in the Capitol ; his glory not extenuated , wherein he was worthy , nor his offences enforced , for which he suffered death .
+
+Here comes his body , mourned by Mark Antony : who , though he had no hand in his death , shall receive the benefit of his dying , a place in the commonwealth ; as which of you shall not ? With this I depart : that , as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome , I have the same dagger for myself , when it shall please my country to need my death .
+
+Live , Brutus ! live ! live !
+
+Bring him with triumph home unto his house .
+
+Give him a statue with his ancestors .
+
+Let him be C sar .
+
+C sar's better parts
+Shall be crown'd in Brutus .
+
+We'll bring him to his house with shouts and clamours .
+
+My countrymen ,
+
+Peace ! silence ! Brutus speaks .
+
+Peace , ho !
+
+Good countrymen , let me depart alone ,
+And , for my sake , stay here with Antony .
+Do grace to C sar's corpse , and grace his speech
+Tending to C sar's glories , which Mark Antony ,
+By our permission , is allow'd to make .
+I do entreat you , not a man depart ,
+Save I alone , till Antony have spoke .
+
+
+Stay , ho ! and let us hear Mark Antony .
+
+Let him go up into the public chair ;
+We'll hear him . Noble Antony , go up .
+
+For Brutus' sake , I am beholding to you .
+
+
+What does he say of Brutus ?
+
+He says , for Brutus' sake ,
+He finds himself beholding to us all .
+
+'Twere best he speak no harm of Brutus here .
+
+This C sar was a tyrant .
+
+Nay , that's certain :
+We are bless'd that Rome is rid of him .
+
+Peace ! let us hear what Antony can say .
+
+You gentle Romans ,
+
+Peace , ho ! let us hear him .
+
+Friends , Romans , countrymen , lend me your ears ;
+I come to bury C sar , not to praise him .
+The evil that men do lives after them ,
+The good is oft interred with their bones ;
+So let it be with C sar . The noble Brutus
+Hath told you C sar was ambitious ;
+If it were so , it was a grievous fault ,
+And grievously hath C sar answer'd it .
+Here , under leave of Brutus and the rest ,
+For Brutus is an honourable man ;
+So are they all , all honourable men ,
+Come I to speak in C sar's funeral .
+He was my friend , faithful and just to me :
+But Brutus says he was ambitious ;
+And Brutus is an honourable man .
+He hath brought many captives home to Rome ,
+Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill :
+Did this in C sar seem ambitious ?
+When that the poor have cried , C sar hath wept ;
+Ambition should be made of sterner stuff :
+Yet Brutus says he was ambitious ;
+And Brutus is an honourable man .
+You all did see that on the Lupercal
+I thrice presented him a kingly crown ,
+Which he did thrice refuse : was this ambition ?
+Yet Brutus says he was ambitious ;
+And , sure , he is an honourable man .
+I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke ,
+But here I am to speak what I do know ,
+You all did love him once , not without cause :
+What cause withholds you then to mourn for him ?
+O judgment ! thou art fled to brutish beasts ,
+And men have lost their reason . Bear with me ;
+My heart is in the coffin there with C sar ,
+And I must pause till it come back to me .
+
+Methinks there is much reason in his sayings .
+
+If thou consider rightly of the matter ,
+C sar has had great wrong .
+
+Has he , masters ?
+I fear there will a worse come in his place .
+
+Mark'd ye his words ? He would not take the crown ;
+Therefore 'tis certain he was not ambitious .
+
+If it be found so , some will dear abide it .
+
+Poor soul ! his eyes are red as fire with weeping .
+
+There's not a nobler man in Rome than Antony .
+
+Now mark him ; he begins again to speak .
+
+But yesterday the word of C sar might
+Have stood against the world ; now lies he there ,
+And none so poor to do him reverence .
+O masters ! if I were dispos'd to stir
+Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage ,
+I should do Brutus wrong , and Cassius wrong ,
+Who , you all know , are honourable men .
+I will not do them wrong ; I rather choose
+To wrong the dead , to wrong myself , and you ,
+Than I will wrong such honourable men
+But here's a parchment with the seal of C sar ;
+I found it in his closet , 'tis his will .
+Let but the commons hear this testament
+Which , pardon me , I do not mean to read
+And they would go and kiss dead C sar's wounds ,
+And dip their napkins in his sacred blood ,
+Yea , beg a hair of him for memory ,
+And , dying , mention it within their wills ,
+Bequeathing it as a rich legacy
+Unto their issue .
+
+We'll hear the will : read it , Mark Antony .
+
+The will , the will ! we will hear C sar's will .
+
+Have patience , gentle friends ; I must not read it :
+It is not meet you know how C sar lov'd you .
+You are not wood , you are not stones , but men ;
+And , being men , hearing the will of C sar ,
+It will inflame you , it will make you mad .
+'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs ;
+For if you should , O ! what would come of it .
+
+Read the will ! we'll hear it , Antony ;
+You shall read us the will , C sar's will .
+
+Will you be patient ? Will you stay awhile ?
+I have o'ershot myself to tell you of it .
+I fear I wrong the honourable men
+Whose daggers have stabb'd C sar ; I do fear it .
+
+They were traitors : honourable men !
+
+The will ! the testament !
+
+They were villains , murderers . The will ! read the will .
+
+You will compel me then to read the will ?
+Then make a ring about the corpse of C sar ,
+And let me show you him that made the will .
+Shall I descend ? and will you give me leave ?
+
+Come down .
+
+Descend .
+
+
+You shall have leave .
+
+A ring ; stand round .
+
+Stand from the hearse ; stand from the body .
+
+Room for Antony ; most noble Antony .
+
+Nay , press not so upon me ; stand far off .
+
+Stand back ! room ! bear back !
+
+If you have tears , prepare to shed them now .
+You all do know this mantle : I remember
+The first time ever C sar put it on ;
+'Twas on a summer's evening , in his tent ,
+That day he overcame the Nervii .
+Look ! in this place ran Cassius' dagger through :
+See what a rent the envious Casca made :
+Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd ;
+And , as he pluck'd his cursed steel away ,
+Mark how the blood of C sar follow'd it ,
+As rushing out of doors , to be resolv'd
+If Brutus so unkindly knock'd or no ;
+For Brutus , as you know , was C sar's angel :
+Judge , O you gods ! how dearly C sar lov'd him .
+This was the most unkindest cut of all ;
+For when the noble C sar saw him stab ,
+Ingratitude , more strong than traitors' arms ,
+Quite vanquish'd him : then burst his mighty heart ;
+And , in his mantle muffling up his face ,
+Even at the base of Pompey's status ,
+Which all the while ran blood , great C sar fell .
+O ! what a fall was there , my countrymen ;
+Then I , and you , and all of us fell down ,
+Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us .
+O ! now you weep , and I perceive you feel
+The dint of pity ; these are gracious drops .
+Kind souls , what ! weep you when you but behold
+Our C sar's vesture wounded ? Look you here ,
+Here is himself , marr'd , as you see , with traitors .
+
+O piteous spectacle !
+
+O noble C sar !
+
+O woeful day !
+
+O traitors ! villains !
+
+O most bloody sight !
+
+We will be revenged .
+
+Revenge !About !Seek !Burn !
+Fire !Kill !Slay ! Let not a traitor live .
+
+Stay , countrymen !
+
+Peace there ! Hear the noble Antony .
+
+We'll hear him , we'll follow him , we'll die with him .
+
+Good friends , sweet friends , let me not stir you up
+To such a sudden flood of mutiny .
+They that have done this deed are honourable :
+What private griefs they have , alas ! I know not ,
+That made them do it ; they are wise and honourable ,
+And will , no doubt , with reasons answer you .
+I come not , friends , to steal away your hearts :
+I am no orator , as Brutus is ;
+But , as you know me all , a plain blunt man ,
+That love my friend ; and that they know full well
+That gave me public leave to speak of him .
+For I have neither wit , nor words , nor worth ,
+Action , nor utterance , nor the power of speech ,
+To stir men's blood : I only speak right on ;
+I tell you that which you yourselves do know ,
+Show you sweet C sar's wounds , poor poor dumb mouths ,
+And bid them speak for me : but were I Brutus ,
+And Brutus Antony , there were an Antony
+Would ruffle up your spirits , and put a tongue
+In every wound of C sar , that should move
+The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny .
+
+We'll mutiny .
+
+We'll burn the house of Brutus .
+
+Away , then ! come , seek the conspirators .
+
+Yet hear me , countrymen ; yet hear me speak .
+
+Peace , ho !Hear Antony ,most noble Antony .
+
+Why , friends , you go to do you know not what .
+Wherein hath C sar thus deserv'd your loves ?
+Alas ! you know not : I must tell you then .
+You have forgot the will I told you of .
+
+Most true . The will ! let's stay and hear the will .
+
+Here is the will , and under C sar's seal .
+To every Roman citizen he gives ,
+To every several man , seventy-five drachmas .
+
+Most noble C sar ! we'll revenge his death .
+
+O royal C sar !
+
+Hear me with patience .
+
+Peace , ho !
+
+Moreover , he hath left you all his walks ,
+His private arbours , and new-planted orchards ,
+On this side Tiber ; he hath left them you ,
+And to your heirs for ever ; common pleasures ,
+To walk abroad , and recreate yourselves .
+Here was a C sar ! when comes such another ?
+
+Never , never ! Come , away , away !
+We'll burn his body in the holy place ,
+And with the brands fire the traitors' houses .
+Take up the body .
+
+Go fetch fire .
+
+Pluck down benches .
+
+Pluck down forms , windows , any thing .
+
+
+Now let it work : mischief , thou art afoot ,
+Take thou what course thou wilt !
+
+How now , fellow !
+
+Sir , Octavius is already come to Rome .
+
+Where is he ?
+
+He and Lepidus are at C sar's house .
+
+And thither will I straight to visit him .
+He comes upon a wish . Fortune is merry ,
+And in this mood will give us any thing .
+
+I heard him say Brutus and Cassius
+Are rid like madmen through the gates of Rome .
+
+Belike they had some notice of the people ,
+How I had mov'd them . Bring me to Octavius .
+
+
+I dreamt to-night that I did feast with C sar ,
+And things unlucky charge my fantasy :
+I have no will to wander forth of doors ,
+Yet something leads me forth .
+
+
+What is your name ?
+
+Whither are you going ?
+
+Where do you dwell ?
+
+Are you a married man , or a bachelor ?
+
+Answer every man directly .
+
+Ay , and briefly .
+
+Ay , and wisely .
+
+Ay , and truly , you were best .
+
+What is my name ? Whither am I going ? Where do I dwell ? Am I a married man , or a bachelor ? Then , to answer every man directly and briefly , wisely and truly : wisely I say , I am a bachelor .
+
+That's as much as to say , they are fools that marry ; you'll bear me a bang for that , I fear . Proceed ; directly .
+
+Directly , I am going to C sar's funeral .
+
+As a friend or an enemy ?
+
+As a friend .
+
+That matter is answered directly .
+
+For your dwelling , briefly .
+
+Briefly , I dwell by the Capitol .
+
+Your name , sir , truly .
+
+Truly , my name is Cinna .
+
+Tear him to pieces ; he's a conspirator .
+
+I am Cinna the poet , I am Cinna the poet .
+
+Tear him for his bad verses , tear him for his bad verses .
+
+I am not Cinna the conspirator .
+
+It is no matter , his name's Cinna ; pluck but his name out of his heart , and turn him going .
+
+Tear him , tear him ! Come , brands , ho ! firebrands ! To Brutus' , to Cassius' ; burn all . Some to Decius' house , and some to Casca's ; some to Ligarius' . Away ! go !
+
+These many then shall die ; their names are prick'd .
+
+Your brother too must die ; consent you , Lepidus ?
+
+I do consent .
+
+Prick him down , Antony .
+
+Upon condition Publius shall not live ,
+Who is your sister's son , Mark Antony .
+
+He shall not live ; look , with a spot I damn him .
+But , Lepidus , go you to C sar's house ;
+Fetch the will hither , and we shall determine
+How to cut off some charge in legacies .
+
+What ! shall I find you here ?
+
+Or here or at the Capitol .
+
+
+This is a slight unmeritable man ,
+Meet to be sent on errands : is it fit ,
+The three-fold world divided , he should stand
+One of the three to share it ?
+
+So you thought him ;
+And took his voice who should be prick'd to die ,
+In our black sentence and proscription .
+
+Octavius , I have seen more days than you :
+And though we lay these honours on this man ,
+To ease ourselves of divers slanderous loads ,
+He shall but bear them as the ass bears gold ,
+To groan and sweat under the business ,
+Either led or driven , as we point the way ;
+And having brought our treasure where we will ,
+Then take we down his load , and turn him off ,
+Like to the empty ass , to shake his ears ,
+And graze in commons .
+
+You may do your will ;
+But he's a tried and valiant soldier .
+
+So is my horse , Octavius ; and for that
+I do appoint him store of provender .
+It is a creature that I teach to fight ,
+To wind , to stop , to run directly on ,
+His corporal motion govern'd by my spirit .
+And , in some taste , is Lepidus but so ;
+He must be taught , and train'd , and bid go forth ;
+A barren-spirited fellow ; one that feeds
+On abject orts , and imitations ,
+Which , out of use and stal'd by other men ,
+Begin his fashion : do not talk of him
+But as a property . And now , Octavius ,
+Listen great things : Brutus and Cassius
+Are levying powers ; we must straight make head ;
+Therefore let our alliance be combin'd ,
+Our best friends made , and our best means stretch'd out ;
+And let us presently go sit in council ,
+How covert matters may be best disclos'd ,
+And open perils surest answered .
+
+Let us do so : for we are at the stake ,
+And bay'd about with many enemies ;
+And some that smile have in their hearts , I fear ,
+Millions of mischiefs .
+
+
+Stand , ho !
+
+Give the word , ho ! and stand .
+
+What now , Lucilius ! is Cassius near ?
+
+He is at hand ; and Pindarus is come
+To do you salutation from his master .
+
+
+He greets me well . Your master , Pindarus ,
+In his own change , or by ill officers ,
+Hath given me some worthy cause to wish
+Things done , undone ; but , if he be at hand ,
+I shall be satisfied .
+
+I do not doubt
+But that my noble master will appear
+Such as he is , full of regard and honour .
+
+He is not doubted . A word , Lucilius ;
+How he receiv'd you , let me be resolv'd .
+
+With courtesy and with respect enough ;
+But not with such familiar instances ,
+Nor with such free and friendly conference ,
+As he hath us'd of old .
+
+Thou hast describ'd
+A hot friend cooling . Ever note , Lucilius ,
+When love begins to sicken and decay ,
+It useth an enforced ceremony .
+There are no tricks in plain and simple faith ;
+But hollow men , like horses hot at hand ,
+Make gallant show and promise of their mettle ;
+But when they should endure the bloody spur ,
+They fall their crests , and , like deceitful jades ,
+Sink in the trial . Comes his army on ?
+
+They mean this night in Sardis to be quarter'd ;
+The greater part , the horse in general ,
+Are come with Cassius .
+
+Hark ! he is arriv'd .
+
+March gently on to meet him .
+
+
+Stand , ho !
+
+Stand , ho ! Speak the word along .
+
+Stand !
+
+Stand !
+
+Stand !
+
+Most noble brother , you have done me wrong .
+
+Judge me , you gods ! Wrong I mine enemies ?
+And , if not so , how should I wrong a brother ?
+
+Brutus , this sober form of yours hides wrongs ;
+And when you do them
+
+Cassius , be content ;
+Speak your griefs softly : I do know you well .
+Before the eyes of both our armies here ,
+Which should perceive nothing but love from us ,
+Let us not wrangle : bid them move away ;
+Then in my tent , Cassius , enlarge your griefs ,
+And I will give you audience .
+
+Pindarus ,
+Bid our commanders lead their charges off
+A little from this ground .
+
+Lucilius , do you the like ; and let no man
+Come to our tent till we have done our conference .
+Let Lucius and Titinius guard our door .
+
+
+That you have wrong'd me doth appear in this :
+You have condemn'd and noted Lucius Pella
+For taking bribes here of the Sardians ;
+Wherein my letters , praying on his side ,
+Because I knew the man , were slighted off .
+
+You wrong'd yourself to write in such a case .
+
+In such a time as this it is not meet
+That every nice offence should bear his comment .
+
+Let me tell you , Cassius , you yourself
+Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm ;
+To sell and mart your offices for gold
+To undeservera .
+
+I an itching palm !
+You know that you are Brutus that speak this ,
+Or , by the gods , this speech were else your last .
+
+The name of Cassius honours this corruption ,
+And chastisement doth therefore hide his head .
+
+Chastisement !
+
+Remember March , the ides of March remember :
+Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake ?
+What villain touch'd his body , that did stab ,
+And not for justice ? What ! shall one of us ,
+That struck the foremost man of all this world
+But for supporting robbers , shall we now
+Contaminate our fingers with base bribes ,
+And sell the mighty space of our large honours
+For so much trash as may be grasped thus ?
+I had rather be a dog , and bay the moon ,
+Than such a Roman .
+
+Brutus , bay not me ;
+I'll not endure it : you forget yourself ,
+To hedge me in . I am a soldier , I ,
+Older in practice , abler than yourself
+To make conditions .
+
+Go to ; you are not , Cassius .
+
+I am .
+
+I say you are not .
+
+Urge me no more , I shall forget myself ;
+Have mind upon your health ; tempt me no further .
+
+Away , slight man !
+
+Is 't possible ?
+
+Hear me , for I will speak .
+Must I give way and room to your rash choler ?
+Shall I be frighted when a madman stares ?
+
+O ye gods ! ye gods ! Must I endure all this ?
+
+All this ! ay , more : fret till your proud heart break ;
+Go show your slaves how choleric you are ,
+And make your bondmen tremble . Must I budge ?
+Must I observe you ? Must I stand and crouch
+Under your testy humour ? By the gods ,
+You shall digest the venom of your spleen ,
+Though it do split you ; for , from this day forth ,
+I'll use you for my mirth , yea , for my laughter ,
+When you are waspish .
+
+Is it come to this ?
+
+You say you are a better soldier :
+Let it appear so ; make your vaunting true ,
+And it shall please me well . For mine own part ,
+I shall be glad to learn of noble men .
+
+You wrong me every way ; you wrong me , Brutus ;
+I said an elder soldier , not a better :
+Did I say , 'better ?'
+
+If you did , I care not .
+
+When C sar liv'd , he durst not thus have mov'd me .
+
+Peace , peace ! you durst not so have tempted him .
+
+I durst not !
+
+No .
+
+What ! durst not tempt him !
+
+For your life you durst not .
+
+Do not presume too much upon my love ;
+I may do that I shall be sorry for .
+
+You have done that you should be sorry for .
+There is no terror , Cassius , in your threats ;
+For I am arm'd so strong in honesty
+That they pass by me as the idle wind ,
+Which I respect not . I did send to you
+For certain sums of gold , which you denied me ;
+For I can raise no money by vile means :
+By heaven , I had rather coin my heart ,
+And drop my blood for drachmas , than to wring
+From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash
+By any indirection . I did send
+To you for gold to pay my legions ,
+Which you denied me : was that done like Cassius ?
+Should I have answer'd Caius Cassius so ?
+When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous ,
+To lock such rascal counters from his friends ,
+Be ready , gods , with all your thunderbolts ;
+Dash him to pieces !
+
+I denied you not .
+
+You did .
+
+I did not : he was but a fool
+That brought my answer back . Brutus hath riv'd my heart .
+A friend should bear his friend's infirmities ,
+But Brutus makes mine greater than they are .
+
+I do not , till you practise them on me .
+
+You love me not .
+
+I do not like your faults .
+
+A friendly eye could never see such faults .
+
+A flatterer's would not , though they do appear
+As huge as high Olympus .
+
+Come , Antony , and young Octavius , come ,
+Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius ,
+For Cassius is aweary of the world ;
+Hated by one he loves ; brav'd by his brother ;
+Check'd like a bondman ; all his faults observ'd ,
+Set in a note-book , learn'd , and conn'd by rote ,
+To cast into my teeth . O ! I could weep
+My spirit from mine eyes . There is my dagger ,
+And here my naked breast ; within , a heart
+Dearer than Plutus' mine , richer than gold :
+If that thou be'st a Roman , take it forth ;
+I , that denied thee gold , will give my heart :
+Strike , as thou didst at C sar ; for , I know ,
+When thou didst hate him worst , thou lov'dst him better
+Than ever thou lov'dst Cassius .
+
+Sheathe your dagger :
+Be angry when you will , it shall have scope ;
+Do what you will , dishonour shall be humour .
+O Cassius ! you are yoked with a lamb
+That carries anger as the flint bears fire ,
+Who , much enforced , shows a hasty spark ,
+And straight is cold again .
+
+Hath Cassius liv'd
+To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus ,
+When grief and blood ill-temper'd vexeth him ?
+
+When I spoke that I was ill-temper'd too .
+
+Do you confess so much ? Give me your hand .
+
+And my heart too .
+
+O Brutus !
+
+What's the matter ?
+
+Have not you love enough to bear with me ,
+When that rash humour which my mother gave me
+Makes me forgetful ?
+
+Yes , Cassius ; and from henceforth
+When you are over-earnest with your Brutus ,
+He'll think your mother chides , and leave you so .
+
+
+Let me go in to see the generals ;
+There is some grudge between 'em , 'tis not meet
+They be alone .
+
+You shall not come to them .
+
+Nothing but death shall stay me .
+
+
+How now ! What's the matter ?
+
+For shame , you generals ! What do you mean ?
+Love , and be friends , as two such men should be ;
+For I have seen more years , I'm sure , than ye .
+
+Ha , ha ! how vilely doth this cynic rime !
+
+Get you hence , sirrah ; saucy fellow , hence !
+
+Bear with him , Brutus ; 'tis his fashion .
+
+I'll know his humour , when he knows his time :
+What should the wars do with these jigging fools ?
+Companion , hence !
+
+Away , away ! be gone .
+
+
+Lucilius and Titinius , bid the commanders
+Prepare to lodge their companies to-night .
+
+And come yourselves , and bring Messala with you ,
+Immediately to us .
+
+
+Lucius , a bowl of wine !
+
+
+I did not think you could have been so angry .
+
+O Cassius ! I am sick of many griefs .
+
+Of your philosophy you make no use
+If you give place to accidental evils .
+
+No man bears sorrow better : Portia is dead .
+
+Ha ! Portia !
+
+She is dead .
+
+How 'scap'd I killing when I cross'd you so ?
+O insupportable and touching loss !
+Upon what sickness ?
+
+Impatient of my absence ,
+And grief that young Octavius with Mark Antony
+Have made themselves so strong ;for with her death
+That tidings came :with this she fell distract ,
+And , her attendants absent , swallow'd fire .
+
+And died so ?
+
+Even so .
+
+O ye immortal gods !
+
+
+Speak no more of her . Give me a bowl of wine .
+In this I bury all unkindness , Cassius .
+
+
+My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge .
+Fill , Lucius , till the wine o'erswell the cup ;
+I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love .
+
+
+Come in , Titinius .
+
+Welcome , good Messala .
+Now sit we close about this taper here ,
+
+And call in question our necessities .
+
+Portia , art thou gone ?
+
+No more , I pray you .
+Messala , I have here received letters ,
+That young Octavius and Mark Antony
+Come down upon us with a mighty power ,
+Bending their expedition towards Philippi .
+
+Myself have letters of the self-same tenour .
+
+With what addition ?
+
+That by proscription and bills of outlawry ,
+Octavius , Antony , and Lepidus ,
+Have put to death an hundred senators .
+
+Therein our letters do not well agree ;
+Mine speak of seventy senators that died
+By their proscriptions , Cicero being one .
+
+Cicero one !
+
+Cicero is dead ,
+And by that order of proscription .
+Had you your letters from your wife , my lord ?
+
+No , Messala .
+
+Nor nothing in your letters writ of her ?
+
+Nothing , Messala .
+
+That , methinks , is strange .
+
+Why ask you ? Hear you aught of her in yours ?
+
+No , my lord .
+
+Now , as you are a Roman , tell me true .
+
+Then like a Roman bear the truth I tell :
+For certain she is dead , and by strange manner .
+
+Why , farewell , Portia . We must die , Messala :
+With meditating that she must die once ,
+I have the patience to endure it now .
+
+Even so great men great losses should endure .
+
+I have as much of this in art as you ,
+But yet my nature could not bear it so .
+
+Well , to our work alive . What do you think
+Of marching to Philippi presently ?
+
+I do not think it good .
+
+Your reason ?
+
+This is it :
+'Tis better that the enemy seek us :
+So shall he waste his means , weary his soldiers ,
+Doing himself offence ; whilst we , lying still ,
+Are full of rest , defence , and nimbleness .
+
+Good reasons must , of force , give place to better ,
+The people 'twixt Philippi and this ground
+Do stand but in a forc'd affection ;
+For they have grudg'd us contribution :
+The enemy , marching along by them ,
+By them shall make a fuller number up ,
+Come on refresh'd , new-added , and encourag'd ;
+From which advantage shall we cut him off ,
+If at Philippi we do face him there ,
+These people at our back .
+
+Hear me , good brother .
+
+Under your pardon . You must note beside ,
+That we have tried the utmost of our friends ,
+Our legions are brim-full , our cause is ripe :
+The enemy increaseth every day ;
+We , at the height , are ready to decline .
+There is a tide in the affairs of men ,
+Which , taken at the flood , leads on to fortune ;
+Omitted , all the voyage of their life
+Is bound in shallows and in miseries .
+On such a full sea are we now afloat ;
+And we must take the current when it serves ,
+Or lose our ventures .
+
+Then , with your will , go on ;
+We'll along ourselves , and meet them at Philippi .
+
+The deep of night is crept upon our talk ,
+And nature must obey necessity ,
+Which we will niggard with a little rest .
+There is no more to say ?
+
+No more . Good-night :
+Early to-morrow will we rise , and hence .
+
+Lucius !
+
+
+My gown .
+
+Farewell , good Messala :
+Good-night , Titinius . Noble , noble Cassius ,
+
+Good-night , and good repose .
+
+O my dear brother !
+This was an ill beginning of the night :
+Never come such division 'tween our souls !
+Let it not , Brutus .
+
+Every thing is well .
+
+Good-night , my lord .
+
+Good-night , good brother .
+
+Good-night , Lord Brutus .
+
+Good-night , Lord Brutus .
+
+Farewell , every one .
+
+
+Give me the gown . Where is thy instrument ?
+
+Here in the tent .
+
+What ! thou speak'st drowsily ?
+Poor knave , I blame thee not ; thou art o'erwatch'd .
+Call Claudius and some other of my men ;
+I'll have them sleep on cushions in my tent .
+
+Varro ! and Claudius !
+
+
+Calls my lord ?
+
+I pray you , sirs , lie in my tent and sleep :
+It may be I shall raise you by and by
+On business to my brother Cassius .
+
+So please you , we will stand and watch your pleasure .
+
+I will not have it so ; lie down , good sirs ;
+It may be I shall otherwise bethink me .
+Look , Lucius , here's the book I sought for so ;
+I put it in the pocket of my gown .
+
+
+I was sure your lordship did not give it me .
+
+Bear with me , good boy , I am much forgetful .
+Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile ,
+And touch thy instrument a strain or two ?
+
+Ay , my lord , an 't please you .
+
+It does , my boy :
+I trouble thee too much , but thou art willing .
+
+It is my duty , sir .
+
+I should not urge thy duty past thy might ;
+I know young bloods look for a time of rest .
+
+I have slept , my lord , already .
+
+It was well done , and thou shalt sleep again ;
+I will not hold thee long : if I do live ,
+I will be good to thee .
+
+This is a sleepy tune : O murderous slumber !
+Lay'st thou thy leaden mace upon my boy ,
+That plays thee music ? Gentle knave , good-night ;
+I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee .
+If thou dost nod , thou break'st thy instrument ;
+I'll take it from thee ; and , good boy , good-night .
+Let me see , let me see ; is not the leaf turn'd down
+Where I left reading ? Here it is , I think .
+
+
+How ill this taper burns ! Ha ! who comes here ?
+I think it is the weakness of mine eyes
+That shapes this monstrous apparition .
+It comes upon me . Art thou any thing ?
+Art thou some god , some angel , or some devil ,
+That mak'st my blood cold and my hair to stare ?
+
+Speak to me what thou art .
+
+Thy evil spirit , Brutus .
+
+Why com'st thou ?
+
+To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi .
+
+Well ; then I shall see thee again ?
+
+Ay , at Philippi .
+
+Why , I will see thee at Philippi then .
+
+Now I have taken heart thou vanishest :
+Ill spirit , I would hold more talk with thee .
+Boy , Lucius ! Varro ! Claudius ! Sirs , awake !
+Claudius !
+
+The strings , my lord , are false .
+
+He thinks he still is at his instrument .
+Lucius , awake !
+
+My lord !
+
+Didst thou dream , Lucius , that thou so criedst out ?
+
+My lord , I do not know that I did cry .
+
+Yes , that thou didst . Didst thou see any thing ?
+
+Nothing , my lord .
+
+Sleep again , Lucius . Sirrah , Claudius !
+Fellow thou ! awake !
+
+My lord !
+
+My lord !
+
+Why did you so cry out , sirs , in your sleep ?
+
+Did we , my lord ?
+
+Did we , my lord ?
+
+Ay : saw you any thing ?
+
+No , my lord , I saw nothing .
+
+Nor I , my lord .
+
+Go , and commend me to my brother Cassius .
+Bid him set on his powers betimes before ,
+And we will follow .
+
+It shall be done , my lord .
+
+It shall be done , my lord .
+
+Now , Antony , our hopes are answered :
+You said the enemy would not come down ,
+But keep the hills and upper regions ;
+It proves not so ; their battles are at hand ;
+They mean to warn us at Philippi here ,
+Answering before we do demand of them .
+
+Tut ! I am in their bosoms , and I know
+Wherefore they do it : they could be content
+To visit other places ; and come down
+With fearful bravery , thinking by this face
+To fasten in our thoughts that they have courage ;
+But 'tis not so .
+
+
+Prepare you , generals :
+The enemy comes on in gallant show ;
+Their bloody sign of battle is hung out ,
+And something to be done immediately .
+
+Octavius , lead your battle softly on ,
+Upon the left hand of the even field .
+
+Upon the right hand I ; keep thou the left .
+
+Why do you cross me in this exigent ?
+
+I do not cross you ; but I will do so .
+
+They stand , and would have parley .
+
+Stand fast , Titinius : we must out and talk .
+
+Mark Antony , shall we give sign of battle ?
+
+No , C sar , we will answer on their charge .
+Make forth ; the generals would have some words .
+
+Stir not until the signal .
+
+Words before blows : is it so , countrymen ?
+
+Not that we love words better , as you do .
+
+Good words are better than bad strokes , Octavius .
+
+In your bad strokes , Brutus , you give good words :
+Witness the hole you made in C sar's heart ,
+Crying , 'Long live ! hail , C sar !'
+
+Antony ,
+The posture of your blows are yet unknown ;
+But for your words , they rob the Hybla bees ,
+And leave them honeyless .
+
+Not stingless too .
+
+O ! yes , and soundless too ;
+For you have stol'n their buzzing , Antony ,
+And very wisely threat before you sting .
+
+Villains ! you did not so when your vile daggers
+Hack'd one another in the sides of C sar :
+How show'd your teeth like apes , and fawn'd like hounds ,
+And bow'd like bondmen , kissing C sar's feet ;
+Whilst damned Casca , like a cur , behind
+Struck C sar on the neck . O you flatterers !
+
+Flatterers ! Now , Brutus , thank yourself :
+This tongue had not offended so to-day ,
+If Cassius might have rul'd .
+
+Come , come , the cause : if arguing make us sweat ,
+The proof of it will turn to redder drops .
+Look ;
+I draw a sword against conspirators ;
+When think you that the sword goes up again ?
+Never , till C sar's three-and-thirty wounds
+Be well aveng'd ; or till another C sar
+Have added slaughter to the sword of traitors .
+
+C sar , thou canst not die by traitors' hands ,
+Unless thou bring'st them with thee .
+
+So I hope ;
+I was not born to die on Brutus' sword .
+
+O ! if thou wert the noblest of thy strain ,
+Young man , thou couldst not die more honourable .
+
+A peevish schoolboy , worthless of such honour ,
+Join'd with a masquer and a reveller .
+
+Old Cassius still !
+
+Come , Antony ; away !
+Defiance , traitors , hurl we in your teeth .
+If you dare fight to-day , come to the field ;
+If not , when you have stomachs .
+
+
+Why now , blow wind , swell billow , and swim bark !
+The storm is up , and all is on the hazard .
+
+Ho !
+Lucilius ! hark , a word with you .
+
+My lord ?
+
+
+Messala !
+
+What says my general ?
+
+Messala ,
+This is my birth-day ; as this very day
+Was Cassius born . Give me thy hand , Messala :
+Be thou my witness that against my will ,
+As Pompey was , am I compell'd to set
+Upon one battle all our liberties .
+You know that I held Epicurus strong ,
+And his opinion ; now I change my mind ,
+And partly credit things that do presage .
+Coming from Sardis , on our former ensign
+Two mighty eagles fell , and there they perch'd ,
+Gorging and feeding from our soldiers' hands ;
+Who to Philippi here consorted us :
+This morning are they fled away and gone ,
+And in their stead do ravens , crows , and kites
+Fly o'er our heads , and downward look on us ,
+As we were sickly prey : their shadows seem
+A canopy most fatal , under which
+Our army lies , ready to give up the ghost .
+
+Believe not so .
+
+I but believe it partly ,
+For I am fresh of spirit and resolv'd
+To meet all perils very constantly .
+
+Even so , Lucilius .
+
+Now , most noble Brutus ,
+The gods to-day stand friendly , that we may ,
+Lovers in peace , lead on our days to age !
+But since the affairs of men rest still incertain ,
+Let's reason with the worst that may befall .
+If we do lose this battle , then is this
+The very last time we shall speak together :
+What are you then , determined to do ?
+
+Even by the rule of that philosophy
+By which I did blame Cato for the death
+Which he did give himself ; I know not how ,
+But I do find it cowardly and vile ,
+For fear of what might fall , so to prevent
+The time of life : arming myself with patience ,
+To stay the providence of some high powers
+That govern us below .
+
+Then , if we lose this battle ,
+You are contented to be led in triumph
+Thorough the streets of Rome ?
+
+No , Cassius , no : think not , thou noble Roman ,
+That ever Brutus will go bound to Rome ;
+He bears too great a mind : but this same day
+Must end that work the ides of March begun ;
+And whether we shall meet again I know not .
+Therefore our everlasting farewell take :
+For ever , and for ever , farewell , Cassius !
+If we do meet again , why , we shall smile ;
+If not , why then , this parting was well made .
+
+For ever , and for ever , farewell , Brutus !
+If we do meet again , we'll smile indeed ;
+If not , 'tis true this parting was well made .
+
+Why , then , lead on . O ! that a man might know
+The end of this day's business , ere it come ;
+But it sufficeth that the day will end ,
+And then the end is known . Come , ho ! away !
+
+
+Ride , ride , Messala , ride , and give these bills
+Unto the legions on the other side .
+
+Let them set on at once , for I perceive
+But cold demeanour in Octavius' wing ,
+And sudden push gives them the overthrow .
+Ride , ride , Messala : let them all come down .
+
+
+O ! look , Titinius , look , the villains fly :
+Myself have to mine own turn'd enemy ;
+This ensign here of mine was turning back ;
+I slew the coward , and did take it from him .
+
+O Cassius ! Brutus gave the word too early ;
+Who , having some advantage on Octavius ,
+Took it too eagerly : his soldiers fell to spoil ,
+Whilst we by Antony are all enclos'd .
+
+
+Fly further off , my lord , fly further off ;
+Mark Antony is in your tents , my lord :
+Fly , therefore , noble Cassius , fly far off .
+
+This hill is far enough . Look , look , Titinius ;
+Are those my tents where I perceive the fire ?
+
+They are , my lord .
+
+Titinius , if thou lov'st me ,
+Mount thou my horse , and hide thy spurs in him ,
+Till he have brought thee up to yonder troops
+And here again ; that I may rest assur'd
+Whether yond troops are friend or enemy .
+
+I will be here again , even with a thought .
+
+
+Go , Pindarus , get higher on that hill ;
+My sight was ever thick ; regard Titinius ,
+And tell me what thou not'st about the field .
+
+This day I breathed first ; time is come round ,
+And where I did begin , there shall I end ;
+My life is run his compass . Sirrah , what news ?
+
+O my lord !
+
+What news ?
+
+Titinius is enclosed round about
+With horsemen , that make to him on the spur ;
+Yet he spurs on : now they are almost on him ;
+Now , Titinius ! now some light ; O ! he lights too :
+He's ta'en ;
+
+and , hark ! they shout for joy .
+
+Come down ; behold no more .
+O , coward that I am , to live so long ,
+To see my best friend ta'en before my face !
+
+Come hither , sirrah :
+In Parthia did I take thee prisoner ;
+And then I swore thee , saving of thy life ,
+That whatsoever I did bid thee do ,
+Thou shouldst attempt it . Come now , keep thine oath ;
+Now be a freeman ; and with this good sword ,
+That ran through C sar's bowels , search this bosom .
+Stand not to answer ; here , take thou the hilts ;
+And , when my face is cover'd , as 'tis now ,
+Guide thou the sword . C sar , thou art reveng'd ,
+Even with the sword that kill'd thee .
+
+
+So , I am free ; yet would not so have been ;
+Durst I have done my will . O Cassius ,
+Far from this country Pindarus shall run ,
+Where never Roman shall take note of him .
+
+It is but change , Titinius ; for Octavius
+Is overthrown by noble Brutus' power ,
+As Cassius' legions are by Antony .
+
+These tidings will well comfort Cassius .
+
+Where did you leave him ?
+
+All disconsolate ,
+With Pindarus his bondman , on this hill .
+
+Is not that he that lies upon the ground ?
+
+He lies not like the living . O my heart !
+
+Is not that he ?
+
+No , this was he , Messala ,
+But Cassius is no more . O setting sun !
+As in thy red rays thou dost sink to-night ,
+So in his red blood Cassius' day is set ;
+The sun of Rome is set . Our day is gone ;
+Clouds , dews , and dangers come ; our deeds are done .
+Mistrust of my success hath done this deed .
+
+Mistrust of good success hath done this deed .
+O hateful error , melancholy's child !
+Why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of men
+The things that are not ? O error ! soon conceiv'd ,
+Thou never com'st unto a happy birth ,
+But kill'st the mother that engender'd thee .
+
+What , Pindarus ! Where art thou , Pindarus ?
+
+Seek him , Titinius , whilst I go to meet
+The noble Brutus , thrusting this report
+Into his ears ; I may say , thrusting it ;
+For piercing steel and darts envenomed
+Shall be as welcome to the ears of Brutus
+As tidings of this sight .
+
+Hie you , Messala ,
+And I will seek for Pindarus the while .
+
+Why didst thou send me forth , brave Cassius ?
+Did I not meet thy friends ? and did not they
+Put on my brows this wreath of victory ,
+And bid me give it thee ? Didst thou not hear their shouts ?
+Alas ! thou hast misconstru'd every thing .
+But , hold thee , take this garland on thy brow ;
+Thy Brutus bid me give it thee , and I
+Will do his bidding . Brutus , come apace ,
+And see how I regarded Caius Cassius .
+By your leave , gods : this is a Roman's part :
+Come , Cassius' sword , and find Titinius' heart .
+
+Where , where , Messala , doth his body lie ?
+
+Lo , yonder : and Titinius mourning it .
+
+Titinius' face is upward .
+
+He is slain .
+
+O Julius C sar ! thou art mighty yet !
+Thy spirit walks abroad , and turns our swords
+In our own proper entrails .
+
+
+Brave Titinius !
+Look whe'r he have not crown'd dead Cassius !
+
+Are yet two Romans living such as these ?
+The last of all the Romans , fare thee well !
+It is impossible that ever Rome
+Should breed thy fellow . Friends , I owe more tears
+To this dead man than you shall see me pay .
+I shall find time , Cassius , I shall find time .
+Come therefore , and to Thassos send his body :
+His funerals shall not be in our camp ,
+Lest it discomfort us . Lucilius , come ;
+And come , young Cato ;let us to the field .
+Labeo and Flavius , set our battles on :
+'Tis three o'clock ; and , Romans , yet ere night
+We shall try fortune in a second fight .
+
+
+Yet , countrymen , O ! yet hold up your heads !
+
+What bastard doth not ? Who will go with me ?
+I will proclaim my name about the field :
+I am the son of Marcus Cato , ho !
+A foe to tyrants , and my country's friend ;
+I am the son of Marcus Cato , ho !
+
+And I am Brutus , Marcus Brutus , I ;
+Brutus , my country's friend ; know me for Brutus !
+
+
+O young and noble Cato , art thou down ?
+Why , now thou diest as bravely as Titinius ,
+And mayst be honour'd being Cato's son .
+
+Yield , or thou diest .
+
+Only I yield to die :
+There is so much that thou wilt kill me straight .
+
+Kill Brutus , and be honour'd in his death .
+
+We must not . A noble prisoner !
+
+Room , ho ! Tell Antony , Brutus is ta'en .
+
+I'll tell the news : here comes the general .
+
+Brutus is ta'en , my lord .
+
+Where is he ?
+
+Safe , Antony ; Brutus is safe enough :
+I dare assure thee that no enemy
+Shall ever take alive the noble Brutus :
+The gods defend him from so great a shame !
+When you do find him , or alive or dead ,
+He will be found like Brutus , like himself .
+
+This is not Brutus , friend ; but , I assure you ,
+A prize no less in worth . Keep this man safe ,
+Give him all kindness : I had rather have
+Such men my friends than enemies . Go on ,
+And see whe'r Brutus be alive or dead ;
+And bring us word unto Octavius' tent ,
+How every thing is chanc'd .
+
+
+Come , poor remains of friends , rest on this rock .
+
+Statilius show'd the torch-light ; but , my lord ,
+He came not back : he is or ta'en or slain .
+
+Sit thee down , Clitus : slaying is the word ;
+It is a deed in fashion . Hark thee , Clitus .
+
+
+What , I , my lord ? No , not for all the world .
+
+Peace , then ! no words .
+
+I'll rather kill myself .
+
+Hark thee , Dardanius .
+
+
+Shall I do such a deed ?
+
+O , Dardanius !
+
+O , Clitus !
+
+What ill request did Brutus make to thee ?
+
+To kill him , Clitus . Look , he meditates .
+
+Now is that noble vessel full of grief ,
+That it runs over even at his eyes .
+
+Come hither , good Volumnius : list a word .
+
+What says my lord ?
+
+Why this , Volumnius :
+The ghost of C sar hath appear'd to me
+Two several times by night ; at Sardis once ,
+And this last night here in Philippi fields .
+I know my hour is come .
+
+Not so , my lord .
+
+Nay , I am sure it is , Volumnius .
+Thou seest the world , Volumnius , how it goes ;
+Our enemies have beat us to the pit :
+It is more worthy to leap in ourselves ,
+Than tarry till they push us . Good Volumnius ,
+Thou know'st that we two went to school together :
+Even for that our love of old , I prithee ,
+Hold thou my sword-hilts , whilst I run on it .
+
+That's not an office for a friend , my lord .
+
+
+Fly , fly , my lord ! there is no tarrying here .
+
+Farewell to you ; and you ; and you , Volumnius .
+Strato , thou hast been all this while asleep ;
+Farewell to thee too , Strato . Countrymen ,
+My heart doth joy that yet , in all my life ,
+I found no man but he was true to me .
+I shall have glory by this losing day ,
+More than Octavius and Mark Antony
+By this vile conquest shall attain unto .
+So fare you well at once ; for Brutus' tongue
+Hath almost ended his life's history :
+Night hangs upon mine eyes ; my bones would rest ,
+That have but labour'd to attain this hour .
+
+
+Fly , my lord , fly .
+
+Hence ! I will follow .
+
+I prithee , Strato , stay thou by thy lord :
+Thou art a fellow of a good respect ;
+Thy life hath had some smatch of honour in it :
+Hold then my sword , and turn away thy face ,
+While I do run upon it . Wilt thou , Strato ?
+
+Give me your hand first : fare you well , my lord .
+
+Farewell , good Strato .
+
+C sar , now be still ;
+I kill'd not thee with half so good a will .
+
+What man is that ?
+
+My master's man . Strato , where is thy master ?
+
+Free from the bondage you are in , Messala ;
+The conquerors can but make a fire of him ;
+For Brutus only overcame himself ,
+And no man else hath honour by his death .
+
+So Brutus should be found . I thank thee , Brutus ,
+That thou hast prov'd Lucilius' saying true .
+
+All that serv'd Brutus , I will entertain them .
+Fellow , wilt thou bestow thy time with me ?
+
+Ay , if Messala will prefer me to you .
+
+Do so , good Messala .
+
+How died my master , Strato ?
+
+I held the sword , and he did run on it .
+
+Octavius , then take him to follow thee ,
+That did the latest service to my master .
+
+This was the noblest Roman of them all ;
+All the conspirators save only he
+Did that they did in envy of great C sar ;
+He only , in a general honest thought
+And common good to all , made one of them .
+His life was gentle , and the elements
+So mix'd in him that Nature might stand up
+And say to all the world , 'This was a man !'
+
+According to his virtue let us use him ,
+With all respect and rites of burial .
+Within my tent his bones to-night shall lie ,
+Most like a soldier , order'd honourably .
+So , call the field to rest ; and let's away ,
+To part the glories of this happy day .
+
+KING LEAR
+
+I thought the king had more affected the Duke of Albany than Cornwall .
+
+It did always seem so to us ; but now , in the division of the kingdom , it appears not which of the dukes he values most ; for equalities are so weighed that curiosity in neither can make choice of either's moiety .
+
+Is not this your son , my lord ?
+
+His breeding , sir , hath been at my charge : I have so often blushed to acknowledge him , that now I am brazed to it .
+
+I cannot conceive you .
+
+Sir , this young fellow's mother could ; whereupon she grew round-wombed , and had , indeed , sir , a son for her cradle ere she had a husband for her bed . Do you smell a fault ?
+
+I cannot wish the fault undone , the issue of it being so proper .
+
+But I have a son , sir , by order of law , some year elder than this , who yet is no dearer in my account : though this knave came somewhat saucily into the world before he was sent for , yet was his mother fair ; there was good sport at his making , and the whoreson must be acknowledged . Do you know this noble gentleman , Edmund ?
+
+No , my lord .
+
+My Lord of Kent : remember him hereafter as my honourable friend .
+
+My services to your lordship .
+
+I must love you , and sue to know you better .
+
+Sir , I shall study deserving .
+
+He hath been out nine years , and away he shall again . The king is coming .
+
+
+Attend the Lords of France and Burgundy , Gloucester .
+
+I shall , my liege .
+
+
+Meantime we shall express our darker purpose .
+Give me the map there . Know that we have divided
+In three our kingdom ; and 'tis our fast intent
+To shake all cares and business from our age ,
+Conferring them on younger strengths , while we
+Unburden'd crawl toward death . Our son of Cornwall ,
+And you , our no less loving son of Albany ,
+We have this hour a constant will to publish
+Our daughters' several dowers , that future strife
+May be prevented now . The princes , France and Burgundy ,
+Great rivals in our youngest daughter's love ,
+Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn ,
+And here are to be answer'd . Tell me , my daughters ,
+Since now we will divest us both of rule ,
+Interest of territory , cares of state ,
+Which of you shall we say doth love us most ?
+That we our largest bounty may extend
+Where nature doth with merit challenge . Goneril ,
+Our eldest-born , speak first .
+
+Sir , I love you more than words can wield the matter ;
+Dearer than eye-sight , space , and liberty ;
+Beyond what can be valu'd , rich or rare ;
+No less than life , with grace , health , beauty , honour ;
+As much as child e'er lov'd , or father found ;
+A love that makes breath poor and speech unable ;
+Beyond all manner of so much I love you .
+
+What shall Cordelia do ? Love , and be silent .
+
+Of all these bounds , even from this line to this ,
+With shadowy forests and with champains rich'd ,
+With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads ,
+We make thee lady : to thine and Albany's issue
+Be this perpetual . What says our second daughter ,
+Our dearest Regan , wife to Cornwall ? Speak .
+
+I am made of that self metal as my sister ,
+And prize me at her worth . In my true heart
+I find she names my very deed of love ;
+Only she comes too short : that I profess
+Myself an enemy to all other joys
+Which the most precious square of sense possesses
+And find I am alone felicitate
+In your dear highness' love .
+
+Then , poor Cordelia !
+And yet not so ; since , I am sure , my love's
+More richer than my tongue .
+
+To thee and thine , hereditary ever ,
+Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom ,
+No less in space , validity , and pleasure ,
+Than that conferr'd on Goneril . Now , our joy ,
+Although our last , not least ; to whose young love
+The vines of France and milk of Burgundy
+Strive to be interess'd ; what can you say to draw
+A third more opulent than your sisters ? Speak .
+
+Nothing , my lord .
+
+Nothing ?
+
+Nothing .
+
+Nothing will come of nothing : speak again .
+
+Unhappy that I am , I cannot heave
+My heart into my mouth : I love your majesty
+According to my bond ; nor more nor less .
+
+How , how , Cordelia ! mend your speech a little ,
+Lest you may mar your fortunes .
+
+Good my lord ,
+You have begot me , bred me , lov'd me : I
+Return those duties back as are right fit ,
+Obey you , love you , and most honour you .
+Why have my sisters husbands , if they say
+They love you all ? Haply , when I shall wed ,
+That lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry
+Half my love with him , half my care and duty :
+Sure I shall never marry like my sisters ,
+To love my father all .
+
+But goes thy heart with this ?
+
+Ay , good my lord .
+
+So young , and so untender ?
+
+So young , my lord , and true .
+
+Let it be so ; thy truth then be thy dower :
+For , by the sacred radiance of the sun ,
+The mysteries of Hecate and the night ,
+By all the operation of the orbs
+From whom we do exist and cease to be ,
+Here I disclaim all my paternal care ,
+Propinquity and property of blood ,
+And as a stranger to my heart and me
+Hold thee from this for ever . The barbarous Scythian ,
+Or he that makes his generation messes
+To gorge his appetite , shall to my bosom
+Be as well neighbour'd , pitied , and reliev'd ,
+As thou my sometime daughter .
+
+Good my liege ,
+
+Peace , Kent !
+Come not between the dragon and his wrath .
+I lov'd her most , and thought to set my rest
+On her kind nursery . Hence , and avoid my sight !
+So be my grave my peace , as here I give
+Her father's heart from her ! Call France . Who stirs ?
+Call Burgundy . Cornwall and Albany ,
+With my two daughters' dowers digest the third ;
+Let pride , which she calls plainness , marry her .
+I do invest you jointly with my power ,
+Pre-eminence , and all the large effects
+That troop with majesty . Ourself by monthly course ,
+With reservation of a hundred knights ,
+By you to be sustain'd , shall our abode
+Make with you by due turn . Only we shall retain
+The name and all th' addition to a king ;
+The sway , revenue , execution of the rest ,
+Beloved sons , be yours : which to confirm ,
+This coronet part between you .
+
+Royal Lear ,
+Whom I have ever honour'd as my king ,
+Lov'd as my father , as my master follow'd ,
+As my great patron thought on in my prayers ,
+
+The bow is bent and drawn ; make from the shaft .
+
+Let it fall rather , though the fork invade
+The region of my heart : be Kent unmannerly
+When Lear is mad . What wouldst thou do , old man ?
+Think'st thou that duty shall have dread to speak
+When power to flattery bows ? To plainness honour's bound
+When majesty falls to folly . Reserve thy state ;
+And , in thy best consideration , check
+This hideous rashness : answer my life my judgment ,
+Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least ;
+Nor are those empty-hearted whose low sound
+Reverbs no hollowness .
+
+Kent , on thy life , no more .
+
+My life I never held but as a pawn
+To wage against thine enemies ; nor fear to lose it ,
+Thy safety being the motive .
+
+Out of my sight !
+
+See better , Lear ; and let me still remain
+The true blank of thine eye .
+
+Now , by Apollo ,
+
+Now , by Apollo , king ,
+Thou swear'st thy gods in vain .
+
+O vassal ! miscreant !
+
+
+Dear sir , forbear .
+
+Dear sir , forbear .
+
+Do ;
+Kill thy physician , and the fee bestow
+Upon the foul disease . Revoke thy gift ;
+Or , whilst I can vent clamour from my throat ,
+I'll tell thee thou dost evil .
+
+Hear me , recreant !
+On thine allegiance , hear me !
+Since thou hast sought to make us break our vow ,
+Which we durst never yet ,and , with strain'd pride
+To come betwixt our sentence and our power ,
+Which nor our nature nor our place can hear ,
+Our potency made good , take thy reward .
+Five days we do allot thee for provision
+To shield thee from diseases of the world ;
+And , on the sixth , to turn thy hated back
+Upon our kingdom : if , on the tenth day following
+Thy banish'd trunk be found in our dominions ,
+The moment is thy death . Away ! By Jupiter ,
+This shall not be revok'd .
+
+Fare thee well , king ; sith thus thou wilt appear ,
+Freedom lives hence , and banishment is here .
+
+
+The gods to their dear shelter take thee , maid ,
+That justly think'st , and hast most rightly said !
+
+
+And your large speeches may your deeds approve ,
+That good effects may spring from words of love .
+Thus Kent , O princes ! bids you all adieu ;
+He'll shape his old course in a country new .
+
+Here's France and Burgundy , my noble lord .
+
+My Lord of Burgundy ,
+We first address toward you , who with this king
+Hath rivall'd for our daughter . What , in the least ,
+Will you require in present dower with her ,
+Or cease your quest of love ?
+
+Most royal majesty ,
+I crave no more than hath your highness offer'd ,
+Nor will you tender less .
+
+Right noble Burgundy ,
+When she was dear to us we did hold her so ,
+But now her price is fall'n . Sir , there she stands :
+If aught within that little-seeming substance ,
+Or all of it , with our displeasure piec'd ,
+And nothing more , may fitly like your Grace ,
+She's there , and she is yours .
+
+I know no answer .
+
+Will you , with those infirmities she owes ,
+Unfriended , new-adopted to our hate ,
+Dower'd with our curse , and stranger'd with our oath ,
+Take her , or leave her ?
+
+Pardon me , royal sir ;
+Election makes not up on such conditions .
+
+Then leave her , sir ; for , by the power that made me ,
+I tell you all her wealth .
+
+For you , great king ,
+I would not from your love make such a stray
+To match you where I hate ; therefore , beseech you
+To avert your liking a more worthier way
+Than on a wretch whom nature is asham'd
+Almost to acknowledge hers .
+
+This is most strange ,
+That she , who even but now was your best object ,
+The argument of your praise , balm of your age ,
+The best , the dearest , should in this trice of time
+Commit a thing so monstrous , to dismantle
+So many folds of favour . Sure , her offence
+Must be of such unnatural degree
+That monsters it , or your fore-vouch'd affection
+Fall into taint ; which to believe of her ,
+Must be a faith that reason without miracle
+Could never plant in me .
+
+I yet beseech your majesty
+If for I want that glib and oily art
+To speak and purpose not ; since what I well intend ,
+I'll do 't before I speak that you make known
+It is no vicious blot nor other foulness ,
+No unchaste action , or dishonour'd step ,
+That hath depriv'd me of your grace and favour ,
+But even for want of that for which I am richer ,
+A still-soliciting eye , and such a tongue
+That I am glad I have not , though not to have it
+Hath lost me in your liking .
+
+Better thou
+Hadst not been born than not to have pleas'd me better .
+
+Is it but this ? a tardiness in nature
+Which often leaves the history unspoke
+That it intends to do ? My Lord of Burgundy ,
+What say you to the lady ? Love is not love
+When it is mingled with regards that stand
+Aloof from the entire point . Will you have her ?
+She is herself a dowry .
+
+Royal Lear ,
+Give but that portion which yourself propos'd ,
+And here I take Cordelia by the hand ,
+Duchess of Burgundy .
+
+Nothing : I have sworn ; I am firm .
+
+I am sorry , then , you have so lost a father
+That you must lose a husband .
+
+Peace be with Burgundy !
+Since that respects of fortune are his love ,
+I shall not be his wife .
+
+Fairest Cordelia , that art most rich , being poor ;
+Most choice , forsaken ; and most lov'd , despis'd !
+Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon :
+Be it lawful I take up what's cast away .
+Gods , gods ! 'tis strange that from their cold'st neglect
+My love should kindle to inflam'd respect .
+Thy dowerless daughter , king , thrown to my chance ,
+Is queen of us , of ours , and our fair France :
+Not all the dukes of waterish Burgundy
+Shall buy this unpriz'd precious maid of me .
+Bid them farewell , Cordelia , though unkind :
+Thou losest here , a better where to find .
+
+Thou hast her , France ; let her be thine , for we
+Have no such daughter , nor shall ever see
+That face of hers again , therefore be gone
+Without our grace , our love , our benison .
+Come , noble Burgundy .
+
+
+Bid farewell to your sisters .
+
+The jewels of our father , with wash'd eyes
+Cordelia leaves you : I know you what you are ;
+And like a sister am most loath to call
+Your faults as they are nam'd . Use well our father :
+To your professed bosoms I commit him :
+But yet , alas ! stood I within his grace ,
+I would prefer him to a better place .
+So farewell to you both .
+
+Prescribe not us our duties .
+
+Let your study
+Be to content your lord , who hath receiv'd you
+At fortune's alms ; you have obedience scanted ,
+And well are worth the want that you have wanted .
+
+Time shall unfold what plighted cunning hides ;
+Who covers faults , at last shame them derides .
+Well may you prosper !
+
+Come , my fair Cordelia .
+
+
+Sister , it is not little I have to say of what most nearly appertains to us both . I think our father will hence to-night .
+
+That's most certain , and with you ; next month with us .
+
+You see how full of changes his age is ; the observation we have made of it hath not been little : he always loved our sister most ; and with what poor judgment he hath now cast her off appears too grossly .
+
+'Tis the infirmity of his age ; yet he hath ever but slenderly known himself .
+
+The best and soundest of his time hath been but rash ; then , must we look to receive from his age , not alone the imperfections of long-engraffed condition , but , therewithal the unruly waywardness that infirm and choleric years bring with them .
+
+Such unconstant starts are we like to have from him as this of Kent's banishment .
+
+There is further compliment of leave-taking between France and him . Pray you , let us hit together : if our father carry authority with such dispositions as he bears , this last surrender of his will but offend us .
+
+We shall further think on't .
+
+We must do something , and i' the heat .
+
+
+Thou , Nature , art my goddess ; to thy law
+My services are bound . Wherefore should I
+Stand in the plague of custom , and permit
+The curiosity of nations to deprive me ,
+For that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines
+Lag of a brother ? Why bastard ? wherefore base ?
+When my dimensions are as well compact ,
+My mind as generous , and my shape as true ,
+As honest madam's issue ? Why brand they us
+With base ? with baseness ? bastardy ? base , base ?
+Who in the lusty stealth of nature take
+More composition and fierce quality
+Than doth , within a dull , stale , tired bed ,
+Go to the creating a whole tribe of fops ,
+Got 'tween asleep and wake ? Well then ,
+Legitimate Edgar , I must have your land :
+Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund
+As to the legitimate . Fine word , 'legitimate !'
+Well , my legitimate , if this letter speed ,
+And my invention thrive , Edmund the base
+Shall top the legitimate :I grow , I prosper ;
+Now , gods , stand up for bastards !
+
+
+Kent banished thus ! And France in choler parted !
+And the king gone to-night ! subscrib'd his power !
+Confin'd to exhibition ! All this done
+Upon the gad ! Edmund , how now ! what news ?
+
+So please your lordship , none .
+
+
+Why so earnestly seek you to put up that letter ?
+
+I know no news , my lord .
+
+What paper were you reading ?
+
+Nothing , my lord .
+
+No ? What needed then that terrible dispatch of it into your pocket ? the quality of nothing hath not such need to hide itself . Let's see ; come ; if it be nothing , I shall not need spectacles .
+
+I beseech you , sir , pardon me ; it is a letter from my brother that I have not all o'er-read , and for so much as I have perused , I find it not fit for your o'er-looking .
+
+Give me the letter , sir .
+
+I shall offend , either to detain or give it . The contents , as in part I understand them , are to blame .
+
+Let's see , let's see .
+
+I hope , for my brother's justification , he wrote this but as an essay or taste of my virtue .
+
+This policy and reverence of age makes the world bitter to the best of our times ; keeps our fortunes from us till our oldness cannot relish them . I begin to find an idle and fond bondage in the oppression of aged tyranny , who sways , not as it hath power , but as it is suffered . Come to me , that of this I may speak more . If our father would sleep till I waked him , you should enjoy half his revenue for ever , and live the beloved of your brother ,
+
+It was not brought me , my lord ; there's the cunning of it ; I found it thrown in at the casement of my closet .
+
+You know the character to be your brother's ?
+
+If the matter were good , my lord , I durst swear it were his ; but , in respect of that , I would fain think it were not .
+
+It is his .
+
+It is his hand , my lord ; but I hope his heart is not in the contents .
+
+Hath he never heretofore sounded you in this business ?
+
+Never , my lord : but I have often heard him maintain it to be fit that , sons at perfect age , and fathers declined , the father should be as ward to the son , and the son manage his revenue .
+
+O villain , villain ! His very opinion in the letter ! Abhorred villain ! Unnatural , detested , brutish villain ! worse than brutish ! Go , sirrah , seek him ; I'll apprehend him . Abominable villain ! Where is he ?
+
+I do not well know , my lord . If it shall please you to suspend your indignation against my brother till you can derive from him better testimony of his intent , you shall run a certain course ; where , if you violently proceed against him , mistaking his purpose , it would make a great gap in your own honour , and shake in pieces the heart of his obedience . I dare pawn down my life for him , that he hath writ this to feel my affection to your honour , and to no other pretence of danger .
+
+Think you so ?
+
+If your honour judge it meet , I will place you where you shall hear us confer of this , and by an auricular assurance have your satisfaction ; and that without any further delay than this very evening .
+
+He cannot be such a monster
+
+Nor is not , sure .
+
+to his father , that so tenderly and entirely loves him . Heaven and earth ! Edmund , seek him out ; wind me into him , I pray you : frame the business after your own wisdom . I would unstate myself to be in a due resolution .
+
+I will seek him , sir , presently ; convey the business as I shall find means , and acquaint you withal .
+
+These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good to us : though the wisdom of nature can reason it thus and thus , yet nature finds itself scourged by the sequent effects . Love cools , friendship falls off , brothers divide : in cities , mutinies ; in countries , discord ; in palaces , treason ; and the bond cracked between son and father . This villain of mine comes under the prediction ; there's son against father : the king falls from bias of nature ; there's father against child . We have seen the best of our time : machinations , hollowness , treachery , and all ruinous disorders , follow us disquietly to our graves . Find out this villain , Edmund ; it shall lose thee nothing : do it carefully . And the noble and true-hearted Kent banished ! his offence , honesty ! 'Tis strange !
+
+
+This is the excellent foppery of the world , that , when we are sick in fortune ,often the surfeit of our own behaviour ,we make guilty of our disasters the sun , the moon , and the stars ; as if we were villains by necessity , fools by heavenly compulsion , knaves , thieves , and treachers by spherical predominance , drunkards , liars , and adulterers by an enforced obedience of planetary influence ; and all that we are evil in , by a divine thrusting on : an admirable evasion of whoremaster man , to lay his goatish disposition to the charge of a star ! My father compounded with my mother under the dragon's tail , and my nativity was under ursa major ; so that it follows I am rough and lecherous . 'Sfoot ! I should have been that I am had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on my bastardizing . Edgar
+
+and pat he comes , like the catastrophe of the old comedy : my cue is villanous melancholy , with a sigh like Tom o' Bedlam . O , these eclipses do portend these divisions ! Fa , sol , la , mi .
+
+How now , brother Edmund ! What serious contemplation are you in ?
+
+I am thinking , brother , of a prediction I read this other day , what should follow these eclipses .
+
+Do you busy yourself with that ?
+
+I promise you the effects he writes of succeed unhappily ; as of unnaturalness between the child and the parent ; death , dearth , dissolutions of ancient amities ; divisions in state ; menaces and maledictions against king and nobles ; needless diffidences , banishment of friends , dissipation of cohorts , nuptial breaches , and I know not what .
+
+How long have you been a sectary astronomical ?
+
+Come , come ; when saw you my father last ?
+
+The night gone by .
+
+Spake you with him ?
+
+Ay , two hours together .
+
+Parted you in good terms ? Found you no displeasure in him by word or countenance ?
+
+None at all .
+
+Bethink yourself wherein you may have offended him ; and at my entreaty forbear his presence till some little time hath qualified the heat of his displeasure , which at this instant so rageth in him that with the mischief of your person it would scarcely allay .
+
+Some villain hath done me wrong .
+
+That's my fear . I pray you have a continent forbearance till the speed of his rage goes slower , and , as I say , retire with me to my lodging , from whence I will fitly bring you to hear my lord speak . Pray you , go ; there's my key . If you do stir abroad , go armed .
+
+Armed , brother !
+
+Brother , I advise you to the best ; go armed ; I am no honest man if there be any good meaning toward you ; I have told you what I have seen and heard ; but faintly , nothing like the image and horror of it ; pray you , away .
+
+Shall I hear from you anon ?
+
+I do serve you in this business .
+
+A credulous father , and a brother noble ,
+Whose nature is so far from doing harms
+That he suspects none ; on whose foolish honesty
+My practices ride easy ! I see the business .
+Let me , if not by birth , have lands by wit :
+All with me's meet that I can fashion fit .
+
+
+Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding of his fool ?
+
+Ay , madam .
+
+By day and night he wrongs me ; every hour
+He flashes into one gross crime or other ,
+That sets us all at odds : I'll not endure it :
+His knights grow riotous , and himself upbraids us
+On every trifle . When he returns from hunting
+I will not speak with him ; say I am sick :
+If you come slack of former services ,
+You shall do well ; the fault of it I'll answer .
+
+He's coming , madam ; I hear him .
+
+
+Put on what weary negligence you please ,
+You and your fellows ; I'd have it come to question :
+If he distaste it , let him to my sister ,
+Whose mind and mine , I know , in that are one ,
+Not to be over-rul'd . Idle old man ,
+That still would manage those authorities
+That he hath given away ! Now , by my life ,
+Old fools are babes again , and must be us'd
+With cheeks as flatteries , when they are seen abus'd .
+Remember what I have said .
+
+Well , madam .
+
+And let his knights have colder looks among you ;
+What grown of it , no matter ; advise your fellows so :
+I would breed from hence occasions , and I shall ,
+That I may speak : I'll write straight to my sister
+To hold my very source . Prepare for dinner .
+
+
+If but as well I other accents borrow ,
+That can my speech diffuse , my good intent
+May carry through itself to that full issue
+For which I raz'd my likeness . Now , banish'd Kent ,
+If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemn'd ,
+So may it come , thy master , whom thou lov'st ,
+Shall find thee full of labours .
+
+
+Let me not stay a jot for dinner : go , get it ready .
+
+How now ! what art thou ?
+
+A man , sir .
+
+What dost thou profess ? What wouldst thou with us ?
+
+I do profess to be no less than I seem ; to serve him truly that will put me in trust ; to love him that is honest ; to converse with him that is wise , and says little ; to fear judgment ; to fight when I cannot choose ; and to eat no fish .
+
+What art thou ?
+
+A very honest-hearted fellow , and as poor as the king .
+
+If thou be as poor for a subject as he is for a king , thou art poor enough . What wouldst thou ?
+
+Service .
+
+Whom wouldst thou serve ?
+
+You .
+
+Dost thou know me , fellow ?
+
+No , sir ; but you have that in your countenance which I would fain call master .
+
+What's that ?
+
+Authority .
+
+What services canst thou do ?
+
+I can keep honest counsel , ride , run , mar a curious tale in telling it , and deliver a plain message bluntly ; that which ordinary men are fit for , I am qualified in , and the best of me is diligence .
+
+How old art thou ?
+
+Not so young , sir , to love a woman for singing , nor so old to dote on her for any thing ; I have years on my back forty-eight .
+
+Follow me ; thou shalt serve me ; if I like thee no worse after dinner I will not part from thee yet . Dinner , ho ! dinner ! Where's my knave ? my fool ? Go you and call my fool hither .
+
+
+You , you , sirrah , where's my daughter ?
+
+So please you ,
+
+
+What says the fellow there ? Call the clotpoll back .
+
+Where's my fool , ho ? I think the world's asleep . How now ! where's that mongrel ?
+
+
+He says , my lord , your daughter is not well .
+
+Why came not the slave back to me when I called him ?
+
+Sir , he answered me in the roundest manner , he would not .
+
+He would not !
+
+My lord , I know not what the matter is ; but , to my judgment , your highness is not entertained with that ceremonious affection as you were wont ; there's a great abatement of kindness appears as well in the general dependants as in the duke himself also and your daughter .
+
+Ha ! sayest thou so ?
+
+I beseech you , pardon me , my lord , if I be mistaken ; for my duty cannot be silent when I think your highness wronged .
+
+Thou but rememberest me of mine own conception : I have perceived a most faint neglect of late ; which I have rather blamed as mine own jealous curiosity than as a very pretence and purpose of unkindness : I will look further into 't . But where's my fool ? I have not seen him this two days .
+
+Since my young lady's going into France , sir , the fool hath much pined him away .
+
+No more of that ; I have noted it well .
+Go you and tell my daughter I would speak with her .
+
+Go you , call hither my fool .
+
+O ! you sir , you , come you hither , sir . Who am
+
+I , sir ?
+
+My lady's father .
+
+'My lady's father !' my lord's knave : you whoreson dog ! you slave ! you cur !
+
+I am none of these , my lord ; I beseech your pardon .
+
+Do you bandy looks with me , you rascal ?
+
+
+I'll not be struck , my lord .
+
+Nor tripped neither , you base football player .
+
+
+I thank thee , fellow ; thou servest me , and I'll love thee .
+
+Come , sir , arise , away ! I'll teach you differences : away , away ! If you will measure your lubber's length again , tarry ; but away !
+Go to ; have you wisdom ? so .
+
+
+Now , my friendly knave , I thank thee : there's earnest of thy service .
+
+Let me hire him too : here's my coxcomb .
+
+
+How now , my pretty knave ! how dost thou ?
+
+Sirrah , you were best take my coxcomb .
+
+Why , fool ?
+
+Why ? for taking one's part that's out of favour . Nay , an thou canst not smile as the wind sits , thou'lt catch cold shortly : there , take my coxcomb . Why , this fellow has banished two on 's daughters , and did the third a blessing against his will : if thou follow him thou must needs wear my coxcomb . How now , nuncle ! Would I had two coxcombs and two daughters !
+
+Why , my boy ?
+
+If I gave them all my living , I'd keep my coxcombs myself . There's mine ; beg another of thy daughters .
+
+Take heed , sirrah ; the whip .
+
+Truth's a dog must to kennel ; he must be whipped out when Lady the brach may stand by the fire and stink .
+
+A pestilent gall to me !
+
+Sirrah , I'll teach' thee a speech .
+
+Do .
+
+Mark it , nuncle :
+
+Have more than thou showest ,
+Speak less than thou knowest ,
+Lend less than thou owest ,
+Ride more than thou goest ,
+Learn more than thou trowest ,
+Set less than thou throwest ;
+Leave thy drink and thy whore ,
+And keep in-a-door ,
+And thou shalt have more
+Than two tens to a score .
+
+
+This is nothing , fool .
+
+Then 'tis like the breath of an unfee'd lawyer , you gave me nothing for 't . Can you make no use of nothing , nuncle ?
+
+Why , no , boy ; nothing can be made out of nothing .
+
+Prithee , tell him , so much the rent of his land comes to : he will not believe a fool .
+
+A bitter fool !
+
+Dost thou know the difference , my boy , between a bitter fool and a sweet fool ?
+
+No , lad ; teach me .
+
+
+That lord that counsell'd thee
+To give away thy land ,
+Come place him here by me ,
+Do thou for him stand :
+The sweet and bitter fool
+Will presently appear ;
+The one in motley here ,
+The other found out there .
+
+
+Dost thou call me fool , boy ?
+
+All thy other titles thou hast given away ; that thou wast born with .
+
+This is not altogether fool , my lord .
+
+No , faith , lords and great men will not let me ; if I had a monopoly out , they would have part on 't , and ladies too : they will not let me have all fool to myself ; they'll be snatching . Nuncle , give me an egg , and I'll give thee two crowns .
+
+What two crowns shall they be ?
+
+Why , after I have cut the egg i' the middle and eat up the meat , the two crowns of the egg . When thou clovest thy crown i' the middle , and gavest away both parts , thou borest thine ass on thy back o'er the dirt : thou hadst little wit in thy bald crown when thou gavest thy golden one away . If I speak like myself in this , let him be whipped that first finds it so .
+
+Fools had ne'er less grace in a year ;
+For wise men are grown foppish ,
+And know not how their wits to wear ,
+Their manners are so apish .
+
+
+When were you wont to be so full of songs , sirrah ?
+
+I have used it , nuncle , ever since thou madest thy daughters thy mothers ; for when thou gavest them the rod and puttest down thine own breeches ,
+
+Then they for sudden joy did weep ,
+And I for sorrow sung ,
+That such a king should play bo-peep ,
+And go the fools among .
+
+Prithee , nuncle , keep a schoolmaster that can teach thy fool to lie : I would fain learn to lie .
+
+An you lie , sirrah , we'll have you whipped .
+
+I marvel what kin thou and thy daughters are : they'll have me whipped for speaking true , thou'lt have me whipped for lying ; and sometimes I am whipped for holding my peace . I had rather be any kind o' thing than a fool ; and yet I would not be thee , nuncle ; thou hast pared thy wit o' both sides , and left nothing i' the middle : here comes one o' the parings .
+
+
+How now , daughter ! what makes that frontlet on ? Methinks you are too much of late i' the frown .
+
+Thou wast a pretty fellow when thou hadst no need to care for her frowning ; now thou art an O without a figure . I am better than thou art now ; I am a fool , thou art nothing .
+
+Yes , forsooth , I will hold my tongue ; so your face bids me , though you say nothing .
+
+Mum , mum ;
+He that keeps nor crust nor crumb ,
+Weary of all , shall want some .
+
+That's a shealed peascod .
+
+
+Not only , sir , this your all-licens'd fool ,
+But other of your insolent retinue
+Do hourly carp and quarrel , breaking forth
+In rank and not-to-be-endured riots . Sir ,
+I had thought , by making this well known unto you ,
+To have found a safe redress ; but now grow fearful ,
+By what yourself too late have spoke and done .
+That you protect this course , and put it on
+By your allowance ; which if you should , the fault
+Would not 'scape censure , nor the redresses sleep ,
+Which , in the tender of a wholesome weal ,
+Might in their working do you that offence ,
+Which else were shame , that then necessity
+Will call discreet proceeding .
+
+For you trow , nuncle ,
+
+The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long ,
+That it had it head bit off by it young .
+
+So out went the candle , and we were left darkling .
+
+Are you our daughter ?
+
+I would you would make use of your good wisdom ,
+Whereof I know you are fraught ; and put away
+These dispositions which of late transform you
+From what you rightly are .
+
+May not an ass know when the cart draws the horse ? Whoop , Jug ! I love thee .
+
+Does any here know me ? This is not Lear :
+Does Lear walk thus ? speak thus ? Where are his eyes ?
+Either his notion weakens , his discernings
+Are lethargied . Ha ! waking ? 'tis not so .
+Who is it that can tell me who I am ?
+
+Lear's shadow .
+
+I would learn that ; for , by the marks of sovereignty , knowledge and reason , I should be false persuaded I had daughters .
+
+Which they will make an obedient father .
+
+Your name , fair gentlewoman ?
+
+This admiration , sir , is much o' the favour
+Of other your new pranks . I do beseech you
+To understand my purposes aright :
+As you are old and reverend , should be wise .
+Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires ;
+Men so disorder'd , so debosh'd , and bold ,
+That this our court , infected with their manners ,
+Shows like a riotous inn : epicurism and lust
+Make it more like a tavern or a brothel
+Than a grac'd palace . The shame itself doth speak
+For instant remedy ; be then desir'd
+By her that else will take the thing she begs ,
+A little to disquantity your train ;
+And the remainder , that shall still depend ,
+To be such men as may besort your age ,
+Which know themselves and you .
+
+Darkness and devils !
+Saddle my horses ; call my train together .
+Degenerate bastard ! I'll not trouble thee :
+Yet have I left a daughter .
+
+You strike my people , and your disorder'd rabble
+Make servants of their betters .
+
+
+Woe , that too late repents ;
+
+
+O ! sir , are you come ?
+Is it your will ? Speak , sir . Prepare my horses .
+Ingratitude , thou marble-hearted fiend ,
+More hideous , when thou show'st thee in a child ,
+Than the sea-monster .
+
+Pray , sir , be patient .
+
+Detested kite ! thou liest :
+My train are men of choice and rarest parts ,
+That all particulars of duty know ,
+And in the most exact regard support
+The worships of their name . O most small fault ,
+How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show !
+Which , like an engine , wrench'd my frame of nature
+From the fix'd place , drew from my heart all love ,
+And added to the gall . O Lear , Lear , Lear !
+Beat at this gate , that let thy folly in ,
+
+And thy dear judgment out ! Go , go , my people .
+
+My lord , I am guiltless , as I am ignorant
+Of what hath mov'd you .
+
+It may be so , my lord .
+Hear , Nature , hear ! dear goddess , hear !
+Suspend thy purpose , if thou didst intend
+To make this creature fruitful !
+Into her womb convey sterility !
+Dry up in her the organs of increase ,
+And from her derogate body never spring
+A babe to honour her ! If she must teem ,
+Create her child of spleen , that it may live
+And be a thwart disnatur'd torment to her !
+Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth ,
+With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks ,
+Turn all her mother's pains and benefits
+To laughter and contempt , that she may feel
+How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is
+To have a thankless child ! Away , away !
+
+
+Now , gods that we adore , whereof comes this ?
+
+Never afflict yourself to know the cause ;
+But let his disposition have that scope
+That dotage gives it .
+
+
+What ! fifty of my followers at a clap ,
+Within a fortnight ?
+
+What's the matter , sir ?
+
+I'll tell thee .
+
+Life and death ! I am asham'd
+That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus ,
+That these hot tears , which break from me perforce ,
+Should make thee worth them . Blasts and fogs upon thee !
+Th' untented woundings of a father's curse
+Pierce every sense about thee ! Old fond eyes ,
+Beweep this cause again , I'll pluck ye out ,
+And cast you , with the waters that you lose ,
+To temper clay . Yea , is it come to this ?
+Let it be so : I have another daughter ,
+Who , I am sure , is kind and comfortable :
+When she shall hear this of thee , with her nails
+She'll flay thy wolvish visage . Thou shalt find
+That I'll resume the shape which thou dost think
+I have cast off for ever ; thou shalt , I warrant thee .
+
+
+Do you mark that ?
+
+I cannot be so partial , Goneril ,
+To the great love I bear you .
+
+Pray you , content . What , Oswald , ho !
+
+
+You , sir , more knave than fool , after your master .
+
+Nuncle Lear , nuncle Lear ! tarry , and take the fool with thee .
+
+A fox , when one has caught her ,
+And such a daughter ,
+Should sure to the slaughter ,
+If my cap would buy a halter ;
+So the fool follows after .
+
+This man hath had good counsel . A hundred knights !
+'Tis politic and safe to let him keep
+At point a hundred knights ; yes , that on every dream ,
+Each buzz , each fancy , each complaint , dislike ,
+He may enguard his dotage with their powers ,
+And hold our lives in mercy . Oswald , I say !
+
+Well , you may fear too far .
+
+Safer than trust too far .
+Let me still take away the harms I fear ,
+Not fear still to be taken : I know his heart .
+What he hath utter'd I have writ my sister ;
+If she sustain him and his hundred knights ,
+When I have show'd the unfitness ,
+
+
+How now , Oswald !
+
+What ! have you writ that letter to my sister ?
+
+Ay , madam .
+
+Take you some company , and away to horse :
+Inform her full of my particular fear ;
+And thereto add such reasons of your own
+As may compact it more . Get you gone ,
+And hasten your return .
+
+No , no , my lord ,
+This milky gentleness and course of yours
+Though I condemn not , yet , under pardon ,
+You are much more attask'd for want of wisdom
+Than prais'd for harmful mildness .
+
+How far your eyes may pierce I cannot tell :
+Striving to better , oft we mar what's well .
+
+Nay , then
+
+Well , well ; the event .
+
+
+Go you before to Gloucester with these letters . Acquaint my daughter no further with any thing you know than comes from her demand out of the letter . If your diligence be not speedy I shall be there before you .
+
+I will not sleep , my lord , till I have delivered your letter .
+
+
+If a man's brains were in 's heels , were't not in danger of kibes ?
+
+Ay , boy .
+
+Then , I prithee , be merry ; thy wit shall not go slip-shod .
+
+Ha , ha , ha !
+
+Shalt see thy other daughter will use thee kindly ; for though she's as like this as a crab is like an apple , yet I can tell what I can tell .
+
+What canst tell , boy ?
+
+She will taste as like this as a crab does to a crab . Thou canst tell why one's nose stands i' the middle on 's face ?
+
+No .
+
+Why , to keep one's eyes of either side's nose , that what a man cannot smell out , he may spy into .
+
+I did her wrong ,
+
+Canst tell how an oyster makes his shell ?
+
+No .
+
+Nor I neither ; but I can tell why a snail has a house .
+
+Why ?
+
+Why , to put his head in ; not to give it away to his daughters , and leave his horns without a case .
+
+I will forget my nature . So kind a father ! Be my horses ready ?
+
+Thy asses are gone about 'em . The reason why the seven stars are no more than seven is a pretty reason .
+
+Because they are not eight ?
+
+Yes , indeed : thou wouldst make a good fool .
+
+To take it again perforce ! Monster ingratitude !
+
+If thou wert my fool , nuncle , I'd have thee beaten for being old before thy time .
+
+How's that ?
+
+Thou shouldst not have been old before thou hadst been wise .
+
+O ! let me not be mad , not mad , sweet heaven ;
+Keep me in temper ; I would not be mad !
+
+How now ! Are the horses ready ?
+
+Ready , my lord .
+
+Come , boy .
+
+She that's a maid now , and laughs at my departure ,
+Shall not be a maid long , unless things be cut shorter .
+
+Save thee , Curan .
+
+And you , sir . I have been with your father , and given him notice that the Duke of Cornwall and Regan his duchess will be here with him to-night .
+
+How comes that ?
+
+Nay , I know not . You have heard of the news abroad ? I mean the whispered ones , for they are yet but ear-kissing arguments ?
+
+Not I : pray you , what are they ?
+
+Have you heard of no likely wars toward , 'twixt the Dukes of Cornwall and Albany ?
+
+Not a word .
+
+You may do then , in time . Fare you well , sir .
+
+
+The duke be here to-night ! The better ! best !
+This weaves itself perforce into my business .
+My father hath set guard to take my brother ;
+And I have one thing , of a queasy question ,
+Which I must act . Briefness and fortune , work !
+Brother , a word ; descend : brother , I say !
+
+
+My father watches : O sir ! fly this place ;
+Intelligence is given where you are hid ;
+You have now the good advantage of the night .
+Have you not spoken 'gainst the Duke of Cornwall ?
+He's coming hither , now , i' the night , i' the haste ,
+And Regan with him ; have you nothing said
+Upon his party 'gainst the Duke of Albany ?
+
+Advise yourself .
+
+I am sure on 't , not a word .
+
+I hear my father coming ; pardon me ;
+In cunning I must draw my sword upon you ;
+Draw ; seem to defend yourself ; now 'quit you well .
+Yield ;come before my father . Light , ho ! here !
+Fly , brother . Torches ! torches ! So , farewell .
+
+Some blood drawn on me would beget opinion
+
+Of my more fierce endeavour : I have seen drunkards
+Do more than this in sport . Father ! father !
+Stop , stop ! No help ?
+
+
+Now , Edmund , where's the villain ?
+
+Here stood he in the dark , his sharp sword out ,
+Mumbling of wicked charms , conjuring the moon
+To stand auspicious mistress .
+
+But where is he ?
+
+Look , sir , I bleed .
+
+Where is the villain , Edmund ?
+
+Fled this way , sir . When by no means he could
+
+Pursue him , ho ! Go after .
+
+'By no means' what ?
+
+Persuade me to the murder of your lordship ;
+But that I told him , the revenging gods
+'Gainst parricides did all their thunders bend ;
+Spoke with how manifold and strong a bond
+The child was bound to the father ; sir , in fine ,
+Seeing how loathly opposite I stood
+To his unnatural purpose , in fell motion ,
+With his prepared sword he charges home
+My unprovided body , lanc'd mine arm :
+But when he saw my best alarum'd spirits
+Bold in the quarrel's right , rous'd to the encounter ,
+Or whether gasted by the noise I made ,
+Full suddenly he fled .
+
+Let him fly far :
+Not in this land shall he remain uncaught ;
+And found dispatch . The noble duke my master ,
+My worthy arch and patron , comes to-night :
+By his authority I will proclaim it ,
+That he which finds him shall deserve our thanks ,
+Bringing the murderous coward to the stake ;
+He that conceals him , death .
+
+When I dissuaded him from his intent ,
+And found him pight to do it , with curst speech
+I threaten'd to discover him : he replied ,
+'Thou unpossessing bastard ! dost thou think ,
+If I would stand against thee , would the reposal
+Of any trust , virtue , or worth , in thee
+Make thy words faith'd ? No : what I should deny ,
+As this I would ; ay , though thou didst produce
+My very character ,I'd turn it all
+To thy suggestion , plot , and damned practice :
+And thou must make a dullard of the world ,
+If they not thought the profits of my death
+Were very pregnant and potential spurs
+To make thee seek it .'
+
+Strong and fasten'd villain !
+Would he deny his letter ? I never got him .
+
+Hark ! the duke's trumpets . I know not why he comes .
+All ports I'll bar ; the villain shall not 'scape ;
+The duke must grant me that : besides , his picture
+I will send far and near , that all the kingdom
+May have due note of him ; and of my land ,
+Loyal and natural boy , I'll work the means
+To make thee capable .
+
+
+How now , my noble friend ! since I came hither ,
+Which I can call but now ,I have heard strange news .
+
+If it be true , all vengeance comes too short
+Which can pursue the offender . How dost , my lord ?
+
+O ! madam , my old heart is crack'd , it's crack'd .
+
+What ! did my father's godson seek your life ?
+He whom my father nam'd ? your Edgar ?
+
+O ! lady , lady , shame would have it hid .
+
+Was he not companion with the riotous knights
+That tend upon my father ?
+
+I know not , madam ; 'tis too bad , too bad .
+
+Yes , madam , he was of that consort .
+
+No marvel then though he were ill affected ;
+'Tis they have put him on the old man's death ,
+To have the expense and waste of his revenues .
+I have this present evening from my sister
+Been well-inform'd of them , and with such cautions
+That if they come to sojourn at my house ,
+I'll not be there .
+
+Nor I , assure thee , Regan .
+Edmund , I hear that you have shown your father
+A child-like office .
+
+'Twas my duty , sir .
+
+He did bewray his practice ; and receiv'd
+This hurt you see , striving to apprehend him .
+
+Is he pursu'd ?
+
+Ay , my good lord .
+
+If he be taken he shall never more
+Be fear'd of doing harm ; make your own purpose ,
+How in my strength you please . For you , Edmund ,
+Whose virtue and obedience doth this instant
+So much commend itself , you shall be ours :
+Natures of such deep trust we shall much need ;
+You we first seize on .
+
+I shall serve you , sir ,
+Truly , however else .
+
+For him I thank your Grace .
+
+You know not why we came to visit you ,
+
+Thus out of season , threading dark-ey'd night :
+Occasions , noble Gloucester , of some prize ,
+Wherein we must have use of your advice .
+Our father he hath writ , so hath our sister ,
+Of differences , which I best thought it fit
+To answer from our home ; the several messengers
+From hence attend dispatch . Our good old friend ,
+Lay comforts to your bosom , and bestow
+Your needful counsel to our businesses ,
+Which craves the instant use .
+
+I serve you , madam .
+Your Graces are right welcome .
+
+
+Good dawning to thee , friend : art of this house ?
+
+Ay .
+
+Where may we set our horses ?
+
+I' the mire .
+
+Prithee , if thou lovest me , tell me .
+
+I love thee not .
+
+Why , then I care not for thee .
+
+If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold , I would make thee care for me .
+
+Why dost thou use me thus ? I know thee not .
+
+Fellow , I know thee .
+
+What dost thou know me for ?
+
+A knave , a rascal , an eater of broken meats ; a base , proud , shallow , beggarly , three-suited , hundred-pound , filthy , worsted-stocking knave ; a lily-liver'd , action-taking knave ; a whoreson , glass-gazing , superserviceable , finical rogue ; one-trunk-inheriting slave ; one that wouldst be a bawd , in way of good service , and art nothing but the composition of a knave , beggar , coward , pandar , and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch : one whom I will beat into clamorous whining if thou deniest the least syllable of thy addition .
+
+Why , what a monstrous fellow art thou , thus to rail on one that is neither known of thee nor knows thee !
+
+What a brazen-faced varlet art thou , to deny thou knowest me ! Is it two days since I tripped up thy heels and beat thee before the king ? Draw , you rogue ; for , though it be night , yet the moon shines : I'll make a sop o' the moonshine of you .
+
+Draw , you whoreson , cullionly , barber-monger , draw .
+
+Away ! I have nothing to do with thee .
+
+Draw , you rascal ; you come with letters against the king , and take vanity the pupet's part against the royalty of her father . Draw , you rogue , or I'll so carbonado your shanks : draw , you rascal ; come your ways .
+
+Help , ho ! murder ! help !
+
+Strike , you slave ; stand , rogue , stand ; you neat slave , strike .
+
+
+Help , oh ! murder ! murder !
+
+
+How now ! What's the matter ?
+
+
+With you , goodman boy , if you please : come ,
+I'll flesh ye ; come on , young master .
+
+
+Weapons ! arms ! What's the matter here ?
+
+Keep peace , upon your lives :
+He dies that strikes again . What is the matter ?
+
+The messengers from our sister and the king .
+
+What is your difference ? speak .
+
+I am scarce in breath , my lord .
+
+No marvel , you have so bestirred your valour . You cowardly rascal , nature disclaims in thee : a tailor made thee .
+
+Thou art a strange fellow ; a tailor make a man ?
+
+Ay , a tailor , sir : a stone-cutter or a painter could not have made him so ill , though they had been but two hours o' the trade .
+
+Speak yet , how grew your quarrel ?
+
+This ancient ruffian , sir , whose life I have spar'd at suit of his grey beard ,
+
+Thou whoreson zed ! thou unnecessary letter ! My lord , if you will give me leave , I will tread this unbolted villain into mortar , and daub the wall of a jakes with him . Spare my grey beard , you wagtail ?
+
+Peace , sirrah !
+You beastly knave , know you no reverence ?
+
+Yes , sir ; but anger hath a privilege .
+
+Why art thou angry ?
+
+That such a slave as this should wear a sword ,
+Who wears no honesty . Such smiling rogues as these ,
+Like rats , oft bite the holy cords a-twain
+Which are too intrinse t' unloose ; smooth every passion
+That in the natures of their lords rebel ;
+Bring oil to fire , snow to their colder moods ;
+Renege , affirm , and turn their halcyon beaks
+With every gale and vary of their masters ,
+Knowing nought , like dogs , but following .
+A plague upon your epileptic visage !
+Smile you my speeches , as I were a fool ?
+Goose , if I had you upon Sarum plain ,
+I'd drive ye cackling home to Camelot .
+
+What ! art thou mad , old fellow ?
+
+How fell you out ? say that .
+
+No contraries hold more antipathy
+Than I and such a knave .
+
+Why dost thou call him knave ? What is his fault ?
+
+His countenance likes me not .
+
+No more , perchance , does mine , nor his , nor hers .
+
+Sir , 'tis my occupation to be plain :
+I have seen better faces in my time
+Than stands on any shoulder that I see
+Before me at this instant .
+
+This is some fellow ,
+Who , having been prais'd for bluntness , doth affect
+A saucy roughness , and constrains the garb
+Quite from his nature : he cannot flatter , he ,
+An honest mind and plain , he must speak truth :
+An they will take it , so ; if not , he's plain .
+These kind of knaves I know , which in this plainness
+Harbour more craft and more corrupter ends
+Than twenty silly-ducking observants ,
+That stretch their duties nicely .
+
+Sir , in good sooth , in sincere verity ,
+Under the allowance of your grand aspect ,
+Whose influence , like the wreath of radiant fire
+On flickering Ph bus' front ,
+
+What mean'st by this ?
+
+To go out of my dialect , which you discommend so much . I know , sir , I am no flatterer : he that beguiled you in a plain accent was a plain knave ; which for my part I will not be , though I should win your displeasure to entreat me to 't .
+
+What was the offence you gave him ?
+
+I never gave him any :
+It pleas'd the king his master very late
+To strike at me , upon his misconstruction ;
+When he , conjunct , and flattering his displeasure ,
+Tripp'd me behind ; being down , insulted , rail'd ,
+And put upon him such a deal of man ,
+That worthied him , got praises of the king
+For him attempting who was self-subdu'd ;
+And , in the fleshment of this dread exploit ,
+Drew on me here again .
+
+None of these rogues and cowards
+But Ajax is their fool .
+
+Fetch forth the stocks !
+You stubborn ancient knave , you reverend braggart ,
+We'll teach you .
+
+Sir , I am too old to learn ,
+Call not your stocks for me ; I serve the king ,
+On whose employment I was sent to you ;
+You shall do small respect , show too bold malice
+Against the grace and person of my master ,
+Stocking his messenger .
+
+Fetch forth the stocks ! As I have life and honour ,
+There shall he sit till noon .
+
+Till noon ! Till night , my lord ; and all night too .
+
+Why , madam , if I were your father's dog ,
+You should not use me so .
+
+Sir , being his knave , I will .
+
+This is a fellow of the self-same colour
+Our sister speaks of . Come , bring away the stocks .
+
+
+Let me beseech your Grace not to do so .
+His fault is much , and the good king his master
+Will check him for't : your purpos'd low correction
+Is such as basest and contemned'st wretches
+For pilferings and most common trespasses
+Are punish'd with : the king must take it ill ,
+That he , so slightly valu'd in his messenger ,
+Should have him thus restrain'd .
+
+I'll answer that .
+
+My sister may receive it much more worse
+To have her gentleman abus'd , assaulted ,
+For following her affairs . Put in his legs .
+
+Come , my good lord , away .
+
+
+I am sorry for thee , friend ; 'tis the duke's pleasure ,
+Whose disposition , all the world well knows ,
+Will not be rubb'd nor stopp'd ; I'll entreat for thee .
+
+Pray , do not , sir . I have watch'd and travell'd hard ;
+Some time I shall sleep out , the rest I'll whistle .
+A good man's fortune may grow out at heels :
+Give you good morrow !
+
+The duke's to blame in this ; 'twill be ill taken .
+
+
+Good king , that must approve the common saw ,
+Thou out of heaven's benediction com'st
+To the warm sun .
+Approach , thou beacon to this under globe ,
+That by thy comfortable beams I may
+Peruse this letter . Nothing almost sees miracles
+But misery : I know 'tis from Cordelia ,
+Who hath most fortunately been inform'd
+Of my obscured course ; and shall find time
+From this enormous state , seeking to give
+Losses their remedies . All weary and o'erwatch'd ,
+Take vantage , heavy eyes , not to behold
+This shameful lodging .
+Fortune , good night , smile once more ; turn thy wheel !
+
+
+I heard myself proclaim'd ;
+And by the happy hollow of a tree
+Escap'd the hunt . No port is free ; no place ,
+That guard , and most unusual vigilance ,
+Does not attend my taking . While I may 'scape
+I will preserve myself ; and am bethought
+To take the basest and most poorest shape
+That ever penury , in contempt of man ,
+Brought near to beast ; my face I'll grime with filth ,
+Blanket my loins , elf all my hair in knots ,
+And with presented nakedness outface
+The winds and persecutions of the sky .
+The country gives me proof and precedent
+Of Bedlam beggars , who with roaring voices ,
+Strike in their numb'd and mortified bare arms
+Pins , wooden pricks , nails , sprigs of rosemary ;
+And with this horrible object , from low farms ,
+Poor pelting villages , sheep-cotes , and mills ,
+Sometime with lunatic bans , sometime with prayers ,
+Enforce their charity . Poor Turlygood ! poor Tom !
+That's something yet : Edgar I nothing am .
+
+
+'Tis strange that they should so depart from home ,
+And not send back my messenger .
+
+As I learn'd ,
+The night before there was no purpose in them
+Of this remove .
+
+Hail to thee , noble master !
+
+Ha !
+Mak'st thou this shame thy pastime ?
+
+No , my lord .
+
+Ha , ha ! he wears cruel garters . Horses are tied by the head , dogs and bears by the neck , monkeys by the loins , and men by the legs : when a man is over-lusty at legs , then he wears wooden nether-stocks .
+
+What's he that hath so much thy place mistook
+To set thee here ?
+
+It is both he and she ,
+Your son and daughter .
+
+No .
+
+Yes .
+
+No , I say .
+
+I say , yea .
+
+No , no ; they would not .
+
+Yes , they have .
+
+By Jupiter , I swear , no .
+
+By Juno , I swear , ay .
+
+They durst not do't ;
+They could not , would not do 't ; 'tis worse than murder ,
+To do upon respect such violent outrage .
+Resolve me , with all modest haste , which way
+Thou mightst deserve , or they impose , this usage ,
+Coming from us .
+
+My lord , when at their home
+I did commend your highness' letters to them ,
+Ere I was risen from the place that show'd
+My duty kneeling , there came a reeking post ,
+Stew'd in his haste , half breathless , panting forth
+From Goneril his mistress salutations ;
+Deliver'd letters , spite of intermission ,
+Which presently they read : on whose contents
+They summon'd up their meiny , straight took horse ;
+Commanded me to follow , and attend
+The leisure of their answer ; gave me cold looks :
+And meeting here the other messenger ,
+Whose welcome , I perceiv'd , had poison'd mine ,
+Being the very fellow which of late
+Display'd so saucily against your highness ,
+Having more man than wit about me ,drew :
+He rais'd the house with loud and coward cries .
+Your son and daughter found this trespass worth
+The shame which here it suffers .
+
+Winter's not gone yet , if the wild geese fly that way .
+
+Fathers that wear rags
+Do make their children blind ,
+But fathers that bear bags
+Shall see their children kind .
+Fortune , that arrant whore ,
+Ne'er turns the key to the poor .
+
+But for all this thou shalt have as many dolours for thy daughters as thou canst tell in a year .
+
+O ! how this mother swells up toward my heart ;
+Hysterica passio ! down , thou climbing sorrow !
+Thy element's below . Where is this daughter ?
+
+With the earl , sir : here within .
+
+Follow me not ; stay here .
+
+
+Made you no more offence than what you speak of ?
+
+None .
+How chance the king comes with so small a number ?
+
+An thou hadst been set i' the stocks for that question , thou hadst well deserved it .
+
+Why , fool ?
+
+We'll set thee to school to an ant , to teach thee there's no labouring i' the winter . All that follow their noses are led by their eyes but blind men ; and there's not a nose among twenty but can smell him that's stinking . Let go thy hold when a great wheel runs down a hill , lest it break thy neck with following it ; but the great one that goes up the hill , let him draw thee after . When a wise man gives thee better counsel , give me mine again : I would have none but knaves follow it , since a fool gives it .
+
+That sir which serves and seeks for gain ,
+And follows but for form ,
+Will pack when it begins to rain ,
+And leave thee in the storm .
+But I will tarry ; the fool will stay ,
+And let the wise man fly :
+The knave turns fool that runs away ;
+The fool no knave , perdy .
+
+
+Where learn'd you this , fool ?
+
+Not i' the stocks , fool .
+
+
+Deny to speak with me ! They are sick ! they are weary ,
+They have travell'd hard to-night ! Mere fetches ,
+The images of revolt and flying off .
+Fetch me a better answer .
+
+My dear lord ,
+You know the fiery quality of the duke ;
+How unremovable and fix'd he is
+In his own course .
+
+Vengeance ! plague ! death ! confusion !
+Fiery ! what quality ? Why , Gloucester , Gloucester ,
+I'd speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife .
+
+Well , my good lord , I have inform'd them so .
+
+Inform'd them ! Dost thou understand me , man ?
+
+Ay , my good lord .
+
+The king would speak with Cornwall ; the dear father
+Would with his daughter speak , commands her service :
+Are they inform'd of this ? My breath and blood !
+Fiery ! the fiery duke ! Tell the hot duke that
+No , but not yet ; may be he is not well :
+Infirmity doth still neglect all office
+Whereto our health is bound ; we are not ourselves
+When nature , being oppress'd , commands the mind
+To suffer with the body . I'll forbear ;
+And am fall'n out with my more headier will ,
+To take the indispos'd and sickly fit
+For the sound man . Death on my state !
+
+Wherefore
+Should he sit here ? This act persuades me
+That this remotion of the duke and her
+Is practice only . Give me my servant forth .
+Go , tell the duke and's wife I'd speak with them ,
+Now , presently : bid them come forth and hear me ,
+Or at their chamber-door I'll beat the drum
+Till it cry sleep to death .
+
+I would have all well betwixt you .
+
+
+O , me ! my heart , my rising heart ! but , down !
+
+Cry to it , nuncle , as the cockney did to the eels when she put 'em i' the paste alive ; she knapped 'em o' the coxcombs with a stick , and cried , 'Down , wantons , down !' 'Twas her brother that , in pure kindness to his horse , buttered his hay .
+
+
+Good morrow to you both .
+
+Hail to your Grace !
+
+
+I am glad to see your highness .
+
+Regan , I think you are ; I know what reason
+I have to think so : if thou shouldst not be glad ,
+I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb ,
+Sepulchring an adult'ress .
+
+O ! are you free ?
+Some other time for that . Beloved Regan ,
+Thy sister's naught : O Regan ! she hath tied
+Sharp-tooth'd unkindness , like a vulture , here :
+
+I can scarce speak to thee ; thou'lt not believe
+With how deprav'd a quality O Regan !
+
+I pray you , sir , take patience . I have hope
+You less know how to value her desert
+Than she to scant her duty .
+
+Say , how is that ?
+
+I cannot think my sister in the least
+Would fail her obligation : if , sir , perchance
+She have restrain'd the riots of your followers ,
+'Tis on such ground , and to such wholesome end ,
+As clears her from all blame .
+
+My curses on her !
+
+O , sir ! you are old ;
+Nature in you stands on the very verge
+Of her confine : you should be rul'd and led
+By some discretion that discerns your state
+Better than you yourself . Therefore I pray you
+That to our sister you do make return ;
+Say , you have wrong'd her , sir .
+
+Ask her forgiveness ?
+Do you but mark how this becomes the house :
+'Dear daughter , I confess that I am old ;
+Age is unnecessary : on my knees I beg
+
+That you'll vouchsafe me raiment , bed , and food .'
+
+Good sir , no more ; these are unsightly tricks :
+Return you to my sister .
+
+Never , Regan .
+She hath abated me of half my train ;
+Look'd black upon me ; struck me with her tongue ,
+Most serpent-like , upon the very heart .
+All the stor'd vengeances of heaven fall
+On her ingrateful top ! Strike her young bones ,
+You taking airs , with lameness !
+
+Fie , air , fie !
+
+You nimble lightnings , dart your blinding flames
+Into her scornful eyes ! Infect her beauty ,
+You fen-suck'd fogs , drawn by the powerful sun ,
+To fall and blast her pride !
+
+O the blest gods ! So will you wish on me ,
+When the rash mood is on .
+
+No , Regan , thou shalt never have my curse :
+Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give
+Thee o'er to harshness : her eyes are fierce , but thine
+Do comfort and not burn . 'Tis not in thee
+To grudge my pleasures , to cut off my train ,
+To bandy hasty words , to scant my sizes ,
+And , in conclusion , to oppose the bolt
+Against my coming in : thou better know'st
+The offices of nature , bond of childhood ,
+Effects of courtesy , dues of gratitude ;
+Thy half o' the kingdom hast thou not forgot ,
+Wherein I thee endow'd .
+
+Good sir , to the purpose .
+
+Who put my man i' the stocks ?
+
+
+What trumpet's that ?
+
+I know't , my sister's ; this approves her letter ,
+That she would soon be here . Is your lady come ?
+
+
+This is a slave , whose easy-borrow'd pride
+Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows .
+Out , varlet , from my sight !
+
+What means your Grace ?
+
+Who stock'd my servant ? Regan , I have good hope
+Thou didst not know on 't . Who comes here ? O heavens ,
+
+
+If you do love old men , if your sweet sway
+Allow obedience , if yourselves are old ,
+Make it your cause ; send down and take my part !
+
+
+Art not asham'd to look upon this beard ?
+
+O Regan , wilt thou take her by the hand ?
+
+Why not by the hand , sir ? How have I offended ?
+All's not offence that indiscretion finds
+And dotage terms so .
+
+O sides ! you are too tough ;
+Will you yet hold ? How came my man i' the stocks ?
+
+I set him there , sir : but his own disorders
+Deserv'd much less advancement .
+
+You ! did you ?
+
+I pray you , father , being weak , seem so .
+If , till the expiration of your month ,
+You will return and sojourn with my sister ,
+Dismissing half your train , come then to me :
+I am now from home , and out of that provision
+Which shall be needful for your entertainment .
+
+Return to her ? and fifty men dismiss'd !
+No , rather I abjure all roofs , and choose
+To wage against the enmity o' the air ;
+To be a comrade with the wolf and owl ,
+Necessity's sharp pinch ! Return with her !
+Why , the hot-blooded France , that dowerless took
+Our youngest born , I could as well be brought
+To knee his throne , and , squire-like , pension beg
+To keep base life afoot . Return with her !
+Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter
+To this detested groom .
+
+
+At your choice , sir .
+
+I prithee , daughter , do not make me mad :
+I will not trouble thee , my child ; farewell .
+We'll no more meet , no more see one another ;
+But yet thou art my flesh , my blood , my daughter ;
+Or rather a disease that's in my flesh ,
+Which I must needs call mine : thou art a boil ,
+A plague-sore , an embossed carbuncle ,
+In my corrupted blood . But I'll not chide thee ;
+Let shame come when it will , I do not call it :
+I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot ,
+Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove .
+Mend when thou canst ; be better at thy leisure :
+I can be patient ; I can stay with Regan ,
+I and my hundred knights .
+
+Not altogether so :
+I look'd not for you yet , nor am provided
+For your fit welcome . Give ear , sir , to my sister ;
+For those that mingle reason with your passion
+Must be content to think you old , and so
+But she knows what she does .
+
+Is this well spoken ?
+
+I dare avouch it , sir : what ! fifty followers ?
+Is it not well ? What should you need of more ?
+Yea , or so many , sith that both charge and danger
+Speak 'gainst so great a number ? How , in one house ,
+Should many people , under two commands ,
+Hold amity ? 'Tis hard ; almost impossible .
+
+Why might not you , my lord , receive attendance
+From those that she calls servants , or from mine ?
+
+Why not , my lord ? If then they chanc'd to slack you
+We could control them . If you will come to me ,
+For now I spy a danger ,I entreat you
+To bring but five-and-twenty ; to no more
+Will I give place or notice .
+
+I gave you all
+
+And in good time you gave it
+
+Made you my guardians , my depositaries ,
+But kept a reservation to be follow'd
+With such a number . What ! must I come to you
+With five-and-twenty ? Regan , said you so ?
+
+And speak't again , my lord ; no more with me .
+
+Those wicked creatures yet do look well-favour'd ,
+When others are more wicked ; not being the worst
+Stands in some rank of praise .
+
+I'll go with thee :
+Thy fifty yet doth double five-and-twenty ,
+And thou art twice her love .
+
+Hear me , my lord .
+What need you five-and-twenty , ten , or five ,
+To follow in a house , where twice so many
+Have a command to tend you ?
+
+What need one ?
+
+O ! reason not the need ; our basest beggars
+Are in the poorest thing superfluous :
+Allow not nature more than nature needs ,
+Man's life is cheap as beast's . Thou art a lady ;
+If only to go warm were gorgeous ,
+Why , nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st ,
+Which scarcely keeps thee warm . But , for true need ,
+You heavens , give me that patience , patience I need !
+You see me here , you gods , a poor old man ,
+As full of grief as age ; wretched in both !
+If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts
+Against their father , fool me not so much
+To bear it tamely ; touch me with noble anger ,
+And let not women's weapons , water-drops ,
+Stain my man's cheeks ! No , you unnatural hags ,
+I will have such revenges on you both
+That all the world shall I will do such things ,
+What they are yet I know not ,but they shall be
+The terrors of the earth . You think I'll weep ;
+No , I'll not weep :
+I have full cause of weeping , but this heart
+Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws
+Or ere I'll weep . O fool ! I shall go mad .
+
+
+Let us withdraw ; 'twill be a storm .
+
+
+This house is little : the old man and his people
+Cannot be well bestow'd .
+
+'Tis his own blame ; hath put himself from rest ,
+And must needs taste his folly .
+
+For his particular , I'll receive him gladly ,
+But not one follower .
+
+So am I purpos'd .
+Where is my Lord of Gloucester ?
+
+Follow'd the old man forth . He is return'd .
+
+
+The king is in high rage .
+
+Whither is he going ?
+
+He calls to horse ; but will I know not whither .
+
+'Tis best to give him way ; he leads himself .
+
+My lord , entreat him by no means to stay .
+
+Alack ! the night comes on , and the bleak winds
+Do sorely ruffle ; for many miles about
+There's scarce a bush .
+
+O ! sir , to wilful men ,
+The injuries that they themselves procure
+Must be their schoolmasters . Shut up your doors ;
+He is attended with a desperate train ,
+And what they may incense him to , being apt
+To have his ear abus'd , wisdom bids fear .
+
+Shut up your doors , my lord ; 'tis a wild night :
+My Regan counsels well : come out o' the storm .
+
+Who's here , beside foul weather ?
+
+One minded like the weather , most unquietly .
+
+I know you . Where's the king ?
+
+Contending with the fretful elements ;
+Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea ,
+Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main ,
+That things might change or cease ; tears his white hair ,
+Which the impetuous blasts , with eyeless rage ,
+Catch in their fury , and make nothing of ;
+Strives in his little world of man to out-scorn
+The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain .
+This night , wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch ,
+The lion and the belly-pinched wolf
+Keep their fur dry , unbonneted he runs ,
+And bids what will take all .
+
+But who is with him ?
+
+None but the fool , who labours to out-jest
+His heart-struck injuries .
+
+Sir , I do know you ;
+And dare , upon the warrant of my note ,
+Commend a dear thing to you . There is division ,
+Although as yet the face of it be cover'd
+With mutual cunning , 'twixt Albany and Cornwall ;
+Who have as who have not , that their great stars
+Thron'd and set high servants , who seem no less ,
+Which are to France the spies and speculations
+Intelligent of our state ; what hath been seen ,
+Either in snuffs and packings of the dukes ,
+Or the hard rein which both of them have borne
+Against the old kind king ; or something deeper ,
+Whereof perchance these are but furnishings ;
+But , true it is , from France there comes a power
+Into this scatter'd kingdom ; who already ,
+Wise in our negligence , have secret feet
+In some of our best ports , and are at point
+To show their open banner . Now to you :
+If on my credit you dare build so far
+To make your speed to Dover , you shall find
+Some that will thank you , making just report
+Of how unnatural and bemadding sorrow
+The king hath cause to plain .
+I am a gentleman of blood and breeding ,
+And from some knowledge and assurance offer
+This office to you .
+
+I will talk further with you .
+
+No , do not .
+For confirmation that I am much more
+Than my out-wall , open this purse , and take
+What it contains . If you shall see Cordelia ,
+As doubt not but you shall ,show her this ring ,
+And she will tell you who your fellow is
+That yet you do not know . Fie on this storm !
+I will go seek the king .
+
+Give me your hand . Have you no more to say ?
+
+Few words , but , to effect , more than all yet ;
+That , when we have found the king ,in which your pain
+That way , I'll this ,he that first lights on him
+Holla the other .
+
+
+Blow , winds , and crack your cheeks ! rage ! blow !
+You cataracts and hurricanoes , spout
+Till you have drench'd our steeples , drown'd the cocks !
+You sulphurous and thought-executing fires ,
+Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts ,
+Singe my white head ! And thou , all-shaking thunder ,
+Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world !
+Crack nature's moulds , all germens spill at once
+That make ingrateful man !
+
+O nuncle , court holy-water in a dry house is better than this rain-water out o' door . Good nuncle , in , and ask thy daughters' blessing ; here's a night pities neither wise man nor fool .
+
+Rumble thy bellyfull Spit , fire ! spout , rain !
+Nor rain , wind , thunder , fire , are my daughters :
+I tax not you , you elements , with unkindness ;
+I never gave you kingdom , call'd you children ,
+You owe me no subscription : then , let fall
+Your horrible pleasure ; here I stand , your slave ,
+A poor , infirm , weak , and despis'd old man .
+But yet I call you servile ministers ,
+That have with two pernicious daughters join'd
+Your high-engender'd battles 'gainst a head
+So old and white as this . O ! O ! 'tis foul .
+
+He that has a house to put his head in has a good head-piece .
+
+The cod-piece that will house
+Before the head has any ,
+The head and he shall louse ;
+So beggars marry many .
+The man that makes his toe
+What he his heart should make ,
+Shall of a corn cry woe ,
+And turn his sleep to wake .
+
+For there was never yet fair woman but she made mouths in a glass .
+
+
+No , I will be the pattern of all patience ; I will say nothing .
+
+Who's there ?
+
+Marry , here's grace and a cod-piece ; that's a wise man and a fool .
+
+Alas ! sir , are you here ? things that love night
+Love not such nights as these ; the wrathful skies
+Gallow the very wanderers of the dark ,
+And make them keep their caves . Since I was man
+Such sheets of fire , such bursts of horrid thunder ,
+Such groans of roaring wind and rain , I never
+Remember to have heard ; man's nature cannot carry
+The affliction nor the fear .
+
+Let the great gods ,
+That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads ,
+Find out their enemies now . Tremble , thou wretch ,
+That hast within thee undivulged crimes ,
+Unwhipp'd of justice ; hide thee , thou bloody hand ;
+Thou perjur'd , and thou simular of virtue
+That art incestuous ; caitiff , to pieces shake ,
+That under covert and convenient seeming
+Hast practis'd on man's life ; close pent-up guilts ,
+Rive your concealing continents , and cry
+These dreadful summoners grace . I am a man
+More sinn'd against than sinning .
+
+Alack ! bare-headed !
+Gracious my lord , hard by here is a hovel ;
+Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the tempest ;
+Repose you there while I to this hard house ,
+More harder than the stone whereof 'tis rais'd ,
+Which even but now , demanding after you ,
+Denied me to come in , return and force
+Their scanted courtesy .
+
+My wits begin to turn .
+Come on , my boy . How dost , my boy ? Art cold ?
+I am cold myself . Where is this straw , my fellow ?
+The art of our necessities is strange ,
+That can make vile things precious . Come , your hovel .
+Poor fool and knave , I have one part in my heart
+That's sorry yet for thee .
+
+
+He that has a little tiny wit ,
+With hey , ho , the wind and the rain ,
+Must make content with his fortunes fit ,
+Though the rain it raineth every day .
+
+
+True , my good boy . Come , bring us to this hovel .
+
+
+This is a brave night to cool a courtezan .
+I'll speak a prophecy ere I go :
+
+When priests are more in word than matter ;
+When brewers mar their malt with water ;
+When nobles are their tailors' tutors ;
+No heretics burn'd , but wenches' suitors ;
+When every case in law is right ;
+No squire in debt , nor no poor knight ;
+When slanders do not live in tongues ;
+Nor cutpurses come not to throngs ;
+When usurers tell their gold i' the field ;
+And bawds and whores do churches build ;
+Then shall the realm of Albion
+Come to great confusion :
+Then comes the time , who lives to see 't ,
+That going shall be us'd with feet .
+
+This prophecy Merlin shall make ; for I live before his time .
+
+
+Alack , alack ! Edmund , I like not this unnatural dealing . When I desired their leave that I might pity him , they took from me the use of mine own house ; charged me , on pain of their perpetual displeasure , neither to speak of him , entreat for him , nor any way sustain him .
+
+Most savage , and unnatural !
+
+Go to ; say you nothing . There is division between the dukes , and a worse matter than that . I have received a letter this night ; 'tis dangerous to be spoken ; I have locked the letter in my closet . These injuries the king now bears will be revenged home ; there's part of a power already footed ; we must incline to the king . I will seek him and privily relieve him ; go you and maintain talk with the duke , that my charity be not of him perceived . If he ask for me , I am ill and gone to bed . If I die for it , as no less is threatened me , the king , my old master , must be relieved . There is some strange thing toward , Edmund ; pray you , be careful .
+
+
+This courtesy , forbid thee , shall the duke
+Instantly know ; and of that letter too :
+This seems a fair deserving , and must draw me
+That which my father loses ; no less than all :
+The younger rises when the old doth fall .
+
+
+Here is the place , my lord ; good my lord , enter :
+The tyranny of the open night's too rough
+For nature to endure .
+
+
+Let me alone .
+
+Good my lord , enter here .
+
+Wilt break my heart ?
+
+I'd rather break mine own . Good my lord , enter .
+
+Thou think'st 'tis much that this contentious storm
+Invades us to the skin : so 'tis to thee ;
+But where the greater malady is fix'd ,
+The lesser is scarce felt . Thou'dst shun a bear ;
+But if thy flight lay toward the roaring sea ,
+Thou'dst meet the bear i' the mouth . When the mind's free
+The body's delicate ; the tempest in my mind
+Doth from my senses take all feeling else
+Save what beats there . Filial ingratitude !
+Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand
+For lifting food to 't ? But I will punish home :
+No , I will weep no more . In such a night
+To shut me out ! Pour on ; I will endure .
+In such a night as this ! O Regan , Goneril !
+Your old kind father , whose frank heart gave all ,
+O ! that way madness lies ; let me shun that ;
+No more of that .
+
+Good , my lord , enter here .
+
+Prithee , go in thyself ; seek thine own ease :
+This tempest will not give me leave to ponder
+On things would hurt me more . But I'll go in .
+
+
+In , boy ; go first . You houseless poverty ,
+Nay , get thee in . I'll pray , and then I'll sleep .
+
+Poor naked wretches , wheresoe'er you are ,
+That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm ,
+How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides ,
+Your loop'd and window'd raggedness , defend you
+From seasons such as these ? O ! I have ta'en
+Too little care of this . Take physic , pomp ;
+Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel ,
+That thou mayst shake the superflux to them ,
+And show the heavens more just .
+
+Fathom and half , fathom and half ! Poor Tom !
+
+
+Come not in here , nuncle ; here's a spirit .
+Help me ! help me !
+
+Give me thy hand . Who's there ?
+
+A spirit , a spirit : he says his name's poor Tom .
+
+What art thou that dost grumble there i' the straw ?
+Come forth .
+
+
+Away ! the foul fiend follows me !
+Through the sharp hawthorn blow the winds .
+Hum ! go to thy cold bed and warm thee .
+
+Didst thou give all to thy two daughters ?
+And art thou come to this ?
+
+Who gives anything to poor Tom ? whom the foul fiend hath led through fire and through flame , through ford and whirlpool , o'er bog and quagmire ; that hath laid knives under his pillow , and halters in his pew ; set ratsbane by his porridge ; made him proud of heart , to ride on a bay trotting-horse over four-inched bridges , to course his own shadow for a traitor . Bless thy five wits ! Tom's a-cold . O ! do de , do de , do de . Bless thee from whirlwinds , starblasting , and taking ! Do poor Tom some charity , whom the foul fiend vexes . There could I have him now , and there , and there again , and there .
+
+
+What ! have his daughters brought him to this pass ?
+Couldst thou save nothing ? Didst thou give them all ?
+
+Nay , he reserved a blanket , else we had been all shamed .
+
+Now all the plagues that in the pendulous air
+Hang fated o'er men's faults light on thy daughters !
+
+He hath no daughters , sir .
+
+Death , traitor ! nothing could have subdu'd nature
+To such a lowness , but his unkind daughters .
+Is it the fashion that discarded fathers
+Should have thus little mercy on their flesh ?
+Judicious punishment ! 'twas this flesh begot
+Those pelican daughters .
+
+Pillicock sat on Pillicock-hill :
+Halloo , halloo , loo , loo !
+
+This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen .
+
+Take heed o' the foul fiend . Obey thy parents ; keep thy word justly ; swear not ; commit not with man's sworn spouse ; set not thy sweet heart on proud array . Tom's a-cold .
+
+What hast thou been ?
+
+A servingman , proud in heart and mind ; that curled my hair , wore gloves in my cap , served the lust of my mistress's heart , and did the act of darkness with her ; swore as many oaths as I spake words , and broke them in the sweet face of heaven ; one that slept in the contriving of lust , and waked to do it . Wine loved I deeply , dice dearly , and in woman out-paramoured the Turk : false of heart , light of ear , bloody of hand ; hog in sloth , fox in stealth , wolf in greediness , dog in madness , lion in prey . Let not the creaking of shoes nor the rustling of silks betray thy poor heart to woman : keep thy foot out of brothels , thy hand out of plackets , thy pen from lenders' books , and defy the foul fiend . Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind ; says suum , mun ha no nonny . Dolphin my boy , my boy ; sessa ! let him trot by .
+
+
+Why , thou wert better in thy grave than to answer with thy uncovered body this extremity of the skies . Is man no more than this ? Consider him well . Thou owest the worm no silk , the beast no hide , the sheep no wool , the cat no perfume . Ha ! here's three on's are sophisticated ; thou art the thing itself ; unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor , bare , forked animal as thou art . Off , off , you lendings ! Come ; unbutton here .
+
+
+Prithee , nuncle , be contented ; 'tis a naughty night to swim in . Now a little fire in a wide field were like an old lecher's heart ; a small spark , all the rest on's body cold . Look ! here comes a walking fire .
+
+
+This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet : he begins at curfew , and walks till the first cock ; he gives the web and the pin , squints the eye , and makes the harelip ; mildews the white wheat , and hurts the poor creature of earth .
+
+Swithold footed thrice the old ;
+He met the night-mare , and her nine-fold ;
+Bid her alight ,
+And her troth plight ,
+And aroint thee , witch , aroint thee !
+
+
+How fares your Grace ?
+
+What's he ?
+
+Who's there ? What is't you seek ?
+
+What are you there ? Your names ?
+
+Poor Tom ; that eats the swimming frog ; the toad , the tadpole , the wall-newt , and the water ; that in the fury of his heart , when the foul fiend rages , eats cow-dung for sallets ; swallows the old rat and the ditch-dog ; drinks the green mantle of the standing pool ; who is whipped from tithing to tithing , and stock-punished , and imprisoned ; who hath had three suits to his back , six shirts to his body , horse to ride , and weapon to wear ;
+
+But mice and rats and such small deer
+Have been Tom's food for seven long year .
+
+Beware my follower . Peace , Smulkin ! peace , thou fiend .
+
+What ! hath your Grace no better company ?
+
+The prince of darkness is a gentleman ;
+Modo he's call'd , and Mahu .
+
+Our flesh and blood , my lord , is grown so vile ,
+That it doth hate what gets it .
+
+Poor Tom's a-cold .
+
+Go in with me . My duty cannot suffer
+To obey in all your daughters' hard commands :
+Though their injunction be to bar my doors ,
+And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you ,
+Yet have I ventur'd to come seek you out
+And bring you where both fire and food is ready .
+
+First let me talk with this philosopher .
+What is the cause of thunder ?
+
+Good my lord , take his offer ; go into the house .
+
+I'll talk a word with this same learned Theban .
+What is your study ?
+
+How to prevent the fiend , and to kill vermin .
+
+Let me ask you one word in private .
+
+Importune him once more to go , my lord ;
+His wits begin to unsettle .
+
+Canst thou blame him ?
+
+His daughters seek his death . Ah ! that good Kent ;
+He said it would be thus , poor banish'd man !
+Thou sayst the king grows mad ; I'll tell thee , friend ,
+I am almost mad myself . I had a son ,
+Now outlaw'd from my blood ; he sought my life ,
+But lately , very late ; I lov'd him , friend ,
+No father his son dearer ; true to tell thee ,
+
+The grief hath craz'd my wits . What a night's this !
+I do beseech your Grace ,
+
+O ! cry you mercy , sir .
+Noble philosopher , your company .
+
+Tom's a-cold .
+
+In , fellow , there , into the hovel : keep thee warm .
+
+Come , let's in all .
+
+This way , my lord .
+
+With him ;
+I will keep still with my philosopher .
+
+Good my lord , soothe him ; let him take the fellow .
+
+Take him you on .
+
+Sirrah , come on ; go along with us .
+
+Come , good Athenian .
+
+No words , no words : hush .
+
+
+Child Rowland to the dark tower came ,
+His word was still , Fie , foh , and fum ,
+I smell the blood of a British man .
+
+I will have my revenge ere I depart his house .
+
+How , my lord , I may be censured , that nature thus gives way to loyalty , something fears me to think of .
+
+I now perceive it was not altogether your brother's evil disposition made him seek his death ; but a provoking merit , set a-work by a reproveable badness in himself .
+
+How malicious is my fortune , that I must repent to be just ! This is the letter he spoke of , which approves him an intelligent party to the advantages of France . O heavens ! that this treason were not , or not I the detector !
+
+Go with me to the duchess .
+
+If the matter of this paper be certain , you have mighty business in hand .
+
+True , or false , it hath made thee Earl of Gloucester . Seek out where thy father is , that he may be ready for our apprehension .
+
+If I find him comforting the king , it will stuff his suspicion more fully . I will persever in my course of loyalty , though the conflict be sore between that and my blood .
+
+I will lay trust upon thee ; and thou shalt find a dearer father in my love .
+
+
+Here is better than the open air ; take it thankfully . I will piece out the comfort with what addition I can : I will not be long from you .
+
+All the power of his wits has given way to his impatience . The gods reward your kindness !
+
+
+Frateretto calls me , and tells me Nero is an angler in the lake of darkness . Pray , innocent , and beware the foul fiend .
+
+Prithee , nuncle , tell me whether a madman be a gentleman or a yeoman !
+
+A king , a king !
+
+No ; he's a yeoman that has a gentleman to his son ; for he's a mad yeoman that sees his son a gentleman before him .
+
+To have a thousand with red burning spits
+Come hizzing in upon 'em ,
+
+The foul fiend bites my back .
+
+He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf , a horse's health , a boy's love , or a whore's oath .
+
+It shall be done ; I will arraign them straight .
+
+
+Come , sit thou here , most learned justicer ;
+
+
+Thou , sapient sir , sit here . Now , you she foxes !
+
+Look , where he stands and glares ! wantest thou eyes at trial , madam ?
+Come o'er the bourn , Bessy , to me ,
+
+
+Her boat hath a leak ,
+And she must not speak
+Why she dares not come over to thee .
+
+
+The foul fiend haunts poor Tom in the voice of a nightingale . Hopdance cries in Tom's belly for two white herring . Croak not , black angel ; I have no food for thee .
+
+How do you , sir ? Stand you not so amaz'd :
+Will you lie down and rest upon the cushions ?
+
+I'll see their trial first . Bring in their evidence .
+
+
+Thou robed man of justice , take thy place ;
+
+
+And thou , his yoke-fellow of equity ,
+Bench by his side .
+
+You are o' the commission ,
+Sit you too .
+
+Let us deal justly .
+
+Sleepest or wakest thou , jolly shepherd ?
+Thy sheep be in the corn ,
+And for one blast of thy minikin mouth ,
+Thy sheep shall take no harm .
+
+Purr ! the cat is grey .
+
+Arraign her first ; 'tis Goneril . I here take my oath before this honourable assembly , she kicked the poor king her father .
+
+Come hither , mistress . Is your name Goneril ?
+
+She cannot deny it .
+
+Cry you mercy , I took you for a joint-stool .
+
+And here's another , whose warp'd looks proclaim
+What store her heart is made on . Stop her there !
+Arms , arms , sword , fire ! Corruption in the place !
+False justicer , why hast thou let her 'scape ?
+
+Bless thy five wits !
+
+O pity ! Sir , where is the patience now
+That you so oft have boasted to retain ?
+
+My tears begin to take his part so much ,
+They'll mar my counterfeiting .
+
+The little dogs and all ,
+Tray , Blanch , and Sweet-heart , see , they bark at me .
+
+Tom will throw his head at them .
+Avaunt , you curs !
+
+Be thy mouth or black or white ,
+Tooth that poisons if it bite ;
+Mastiff , greyhound , mongrel grim ,
+Hound or spaniel , brach or lym ;
+Or bobtail tike or trundle-tail ;
+Tom will make them weep and wail :
+For , with throwing thus my head ,
+Dogs leap the hatch , and all are fled .
+
+Do de , de , de . Sessa ! Come , march to wakes and fairs and market-towns . Poor Tom , thy horn is dry .
+
+Then let them anatomize Regan , see what breeds about her heart . Is there any cause in nature that makes these hard hearts ?
+
+You , sir , I entertain you for one of my hundred ; only I do not like the fashion of your garments : you will say , they are Persian attire ; but let them be changed .
+
+Now , good my lord , lie here and rest awhile .
+
+Make no noise , make no noise ; draw the curtains : so , so , so . We'll go to supper i' the morning : so , so , so .
+
+And I'll go to bed at noon .
+
+
+Come hither , friend : where is the king my master ?
+
+Here , sir ; but trouble him not , his wits are gone .
+
+Good friend , I prithee , take him in thy arms ;
+I have o'erheard a plot of death upon him .
+There is a litter ready ; lay him in 't ,
+And drive toward Dover , friend , where thou shalt meet
+Both welcome and protection . Take up thy master :
+If thou shouldst dally half an hour , his life ,
+With thine , and all that offer to defend him ,
+Stand in assured loss . Take up , take up ;
+And follow me , that will to some provision
+Give thee quick conduct .
+
+Oppress'd nature sleeps :
+This rest might yet have balm'd thy broken sinews ,
+Which , if convenience will not allow ,
+Stand in hard cure .
+
+Come , help to bear thy master ;
+Thou must not stay behind .
+
+Come , come , away .
+
+
+When we our betters see bearing our woes ,
+We scarcely think our miseries our foes .
+Who alone suffers suffers most i' the mind ,
+Leaving free things and happy shows behind ;
+But then the mind much sufferance doth o'erskip ,
+When grief hath mates , and bearing fellowship .
+How light and portable my pain seems now ,
+When that which makes me bend makes the king bow ;
+He childed as I father'd ! Tom , away !
+Mark the high noises , and thyself bewray
+When false opinion , whose wrong thought defiles thee ,
+In thy just proof repeals and reconciles thee .
+What will hap more to-night , safe 'scape the king !
+Lurk , lurk .
+
+
+Post speedily to my lord your husband ; show him this letter : the army of France is landed . Seek out the traitor Gloucester .
+
+
+Hang him instantly .
+
+Pluck out his eyes .
+
+Leave him to my displeasure . Edmund , keep you our sister company : the revenges we are bound to take upon your traitorous father are not fit for your beholding . Advise the duke , where you are going , to a most festinate preparation : we are bound to the like . Our posts shall be swift and intelligent betwixt us . Farewell , dear sister : farewell , my Lord of Gloucester .
+
+How now ? Where's the king ?
+
+My Lord of Gloucester hath convey'd him hence :
+Some five or six and thirty of his knights ,
+Hot questrists after him , met him at gate ;
+Who , with some other of the lord's dependants ,
+Are gone with him toward Dover , where they boast
+To have well-armed friends .
+
+Get horses for your mistress .
+
+Farewell , sweet lord , and sister .
+
+Edmund , farewell .
+
+Go seek the traitor Gloucester ,
+Pinion him like a thief , bring him before us .
+
+Though well we may not pass upon his life
+Without the form of justice , yet our power
+Shall do a courtesy to our wrath , which men
+May blame but not control . Who's there ? The traitor ?
+
+
+Ingrateful fox ! 'tis he .
+
+Bind fast his corky arms .
+
+What mean your Graces ? Good my friends , consider
+You are my guests : do me no foul play , friends
+
+Bind him , I say .
+
+
+Hard , hard . O filthy traitor !
+
+Unmerciful lady as you are , I'm none .
+
+To this chair bind him . Villain , thou shalt find
+
+
+By the kind gods , 'tis most ignobly done
+To pluck me by the beard .
+
+So white , and such a traitor !
+
+Naughty lady ,
+These hairs , which thou dost ravish from my chin ,
+Will quicken , and accuse thee : I am your host :
+With robbers' hands my hospitable favours
+You should not ruffle thus . What will you do ?
+
+Come , sir , what letters had you late from France ?
+
+Be simple-answer'd , for we know the truth .
+
+And what confederacy have you with the traitors
+Late footed in the kingdom ?
+
+To whose hands have you sent the lunatic king ?
+Speak .
+
+I have a letter guessingly set down ,
+Which came from one that's of a neutral heart ,
+And not from one oppos'd .
+
+Cunning .
+
+And false .
+
+Where hast thou sent the king ?
+
+To Dover .
+
+Wherefore to Dover ? Wast thou not charg'd at peril
+
+Wherefore to Dover ? Let him answer that .
+
+I am tied to the stake , and I must stand the course .
+
+Wherefore to Dover ?
+
+Because I would not see thy cruel nails
+Pluck out his poor old eyes ; nor thy fierce sister
+In his anointed flesh stick boarish fangs .
+The sea , with such a storm as his bare head
+In hell-black night endur'd , would have buoy'd up ,
+And quench'd the stelled fires ;
+Yet , poor old heart , he holp the heavens to rain .
+If wolves had at thy gate howl'd that dern time ,
+Thou shouldst have said , 'Good porter , turn the key ,'
+All cruels else subscrib'd : but I shall see
+The winged vengeance overtake such children .
+
+See 't shalt thou never . Fellows , hold the chair .
+Upon these eyes of thine I'll set my foot .
+
+He that will think to live till he be old ,
+Give me some help ! O cruel ! O ye gods !
+
+
+One side will mock another ; the other too .
+
+If you see vengeance .
+
+Hold your hand , my lord :
+I have serv'd you ever since I was a child ,
+But better service have I never done you
+Than now to bid you hold .
+
+How now , you dog !
+
+If you did wear a beard upon your chin ,
+I'd shake it on this quarrel . What do you mean ?
+
+My villain !
+
+
+Nay then , come on , and take the chance of anger .
+
+
+Give me thy sword . A peasant stand up thus !
+
+
+O ! I am slain . My lord , you have one eye left
+To see some mischief on him . O !
+
+
+Lest it see more , prevent it . Out , vile jelly !
+Where is thy lustre now ?
+
+All dark and comfortless . Where's my son Edmund ?
+Edmund , enkindle all the sparks of nature
+To quit this horrid act .
+
+Out , treacherous villain !
+Thou call'st on him that hates thee ; it was he
+That made the overture of thy treasons to us ,
+Who is too good to pity thee .
+
+O my follies ! Then Edgar was abus'd .
+Kind gods , forgive me that , and prosper him !
+
+Go thrust him out at gates , and let him smell
+His way to Dover .
+
+How is 't , my lord ? How look you ?
+
+I have receiv'd a hurt . Follow me , lady .
+Turn out that eyeless villain ; throw this slave
+Upon the dunghill . Regan , I bleed apace :
+Untimely comes this hurt . Give me your arm .
+
+
+I'll never care what wickedness I do
+If this man come to good .
+
+If she live long ,
+And , in the end , meet the old course of death ,
+Women will all turn monsters .
+
+Let's follow the old earl , and get the Bedlam
+To lead him where he would : his roguish madness
+Allows itself to any thing .
+
+Go thou ; I'll fetch some flax , and whites of eggs ,
+To apply to his bleeding face . Now , heaven help him !
+
+Yet better thus , and known to be contemn'd ,
+Than still contemn'd and flatter'd . To be worst ,
+The lowest and most dejected thing of fortune ,
+Stands still in esperance , lives not in fear :
+The lamentable change is from the best ;
+The worst returns to laughter . Welcome , then ,
+Thou unsubstantial air that I embrace :
+The wretch that thou hast blown unto the worst
+Owes nothing to thy blasts . But who comes here ?
+
+
+My father , poorly led ? World , world , O world !
+But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee ,
+
+Life would not yield to age .
+
+O my good lord !
+I have been your tenant , and your father's tenant ,
+These fourscore years .
+
+Away , get thee away ; good friend , be gone ;
+Thy comforts can do me no good at all ;
+Thee they may hurt .
+
+You cannot see your way .
+
+I have no way , and therefore want no eyes ;
+I stumbled when I saw . Full oft 'tis seen ,
+Our means secure us , and our mere defects
+Prove our commodities . Ah ! dear son Edgar .
+The food of thy abused father's wrath ;
+Might I but live to see thee in my touch ,
+I'd say I had eyes again .
+
+How now ! Who's there ?
+
+O gods ! Who is 't can say , 'I am at the worst ?'
+I am worse than e'er I was .
+
+'Tis poor mad Tom .
+
+And worse I may be yet ; the worst is not ,
+So long as we can say , 'This is the worst .'
+
+Fellow , where goest ?
+
+Is it a beggar-man ?
+
+Madman and beggar too .
+
+He has some reason , else he could not beg .
+I' the last night's storm I such a fellow saw ,
+Which made me think a man a worm : my son
+Came then into my mind ; and yet my mind
+Was then scarce friends with him : I have heard more since .
+As flies to wanton boys , are we to the gods ;
+They kill us for their sport .
+
+How should this be ?
+Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow ,
+Angering itself and others .
+
+Bless thee , master !
+
+Is that the naked fellow ?
+
+Ay , my lord .
+
+Then , prithee , get thee gone . If , for my sake ,
+Thou wilt o'ertake us , hence a mile or twain ,
+I' the way toward Dover , do it for ancient love ;
+And bring some covering for this naked soul
+Who I'll entreat to lead me .
+
+Alack , sir ! he is mad .
+
+'Tis the times' plague , when madmen lead the blind .
+Do as I bid thee , or rather do thy pleasure ;
+Above the rest , be gone .
+
+I'll bring him the best 'parel that I have ,
+Come on 't what will .
+
+
+Sirrah , naked fellow ,
+
+Poor Tom's a-cold .
+
+I cannot daub it further .
+
+Come hither , fellow .
+
+And yet I must . Bless thy sweet eyes , they bleed .
+
+Know'st thou the way to Dover ?
+
+Both stile and gate , horse-way and footpath . Poor Tom hath been scared out of his good wits : bless thee , good man's son , from the foul fiend ! Five fiends have been in poor Tom at once ; of lust , as Obidicut ; Hobbididance , prince of dumbness ; Mahu , of stealing ; Modo , of murder ; and Flibbertigibbet , of mopping and mowing ; who since possesses chambermaids and waiting-women . So , bless thee , master !
+
+Here , take this purse , thou whom the heavens' plagues
+Have humbled to all strokes : that I am wretched
+Makes thee the happier : heavens , deal so still !
+Let the superfluous and lust-dieted man ,
+That slaves your ordinance , that will not see
+Because he doth not feel , feel your power quickly ;
+So distribution should undo excess ,
+And each man have enough . Dost thou know Dover ?
+
+Ay , master .
+
+There is a cliff , whose high and bending head
+Looks fearfully in the confined deep ;
+Bring me but to the very brim of it ,
+And I'll repair the misery thou dost bear ;
+With something rich about me ; from that place
+I shall no leading need .
+
+Give me thy arm :
+Poor Tom shall lead thee .
+
+
+Welcome , my lord ; I marvel our mild husband
+Not met us on the way .
+
+Now , where's your master ?
+
+Madam , within ; but never man so chang'd .
+I told him of the army that was landed ;
+He smil'd at it : I told him you were coming ;
+His answer was , 'The worse :' of Gloucester's treachery ,
+And of the loyal service of his son ,
+When I inform'd him , then he call'd me sot ,
+And told me I had turn'd the wrong side out :
+What most he should dislike seems pleasant to him ;
+What like , offensive .
+
+Then , shall you go no further .
+It is the cowish terror of his spirit
+That dares not undertake ; he'll not feel wrongs
+Which tie him to an answer . Our wishes on the way
+May prove effects . Back , Edmund , to my brother ;
+Hasten his musters and conduct his powers :
+I must change arms at home , and give the distaff
+Into my husband's hands . This trusty servant
+Shall pass between us ; ere long you are like to hear ,
+If you dare venture in your own behalf ,
+A mistress's command . Wear this ; spare speech ;
+
+Decline your head : this kiss , if it durst speak ,
+Would stretch thy spirits up into the air .
+Conceive , and fare thee well .
+
+Yours in the ranks of death .
+
+My most dear Gloucester !
+
+O ! the difference of man and man !
+To thee a woman's services are due :
+My fool usurps my bed .
+
+Madam , here comes my lord .
+
+I have been worth the whistle .
+
+O Goneril !
+You are not worth the dust which the rude wind
+Blows in your face . I fear your disposition :
+That nature , which contemns its origin ,
+Cannot be border'd certain in itself ;
+She that herself will sliver and disbranch
+From her material sap , perforce must wither
+And come to deadly use .
+
+No more ; the text is foolish .
+
+Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile ;
+Filths savour but themselves . What have you done ?
+Tigers , not daughters , what have you perform'd ?
+A father , and a gracious aged man ,
+Whose reverence the head-lugg'd bear would lick ,
+Most barbarous , most degenerate ! have you madded .
+Could my good brother suffer you to do it ?
+A man , a prince , by him so benefited !
+If that the heavens do not their visible spirits
+Send quickly down to tame these vile offences ,
+It will come ,
+Humanity must perforce prey on itself ,
+Like monsters of the deep .
+
+Milk-liver'd man !
+That bear'st a cheek for blows , a head for wrongs ;
+Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning
+Thine honour from thy suffering ; that not know'st
+Fools do those villains pity who are punish'd
+Ere they have done their mischief . Where's thy drum ?
+France spreads his banners in our noiseless land ,
+With plumed helm thy slayer begins threats ,
+Whilst thou , a moral fool , sitt'st still , and criest
+'Alack ! why does he so ?'
+
+See thyself , devil !
+Proper deformity seems not in the fiend
+So horrid as in woman .
+
+O vain fool !
+
+Thou changed and self-cover'd thing , for shame ,
+Be-monster not thy feature . Were 't my fitness
+To let these hands obey my blood ,
+They are apt enough to dislocate and tear
+Thy flesh and bones ; howe'er thou art a fiend ,
+A woman's shape doth shield thee .
+
+Marry , your manhood .Mew !
+
+
+What news ?
+
+O ! my good lord , the Duke of Cornwall's dead ;
+Slain by his servant , going to put out
+The other eye of Gloucester .
+
+Gloucester's eyes !
+
+A servant that he bred , thrill'd with remorse ,
+Oppos'd against the act , bending his sword
+To his great master ; who , thereat enrag'd ,
+Flew on him , and amongst them fell'd him dead ;
+But not without that harmful stroke , which since
+Hath pluck'd him after .
+
+This shows you are above ,
+You justicers , that these our nether crimes
+So speedily can venge ! But , O poor Gloucester !
+Lost he his other eye ?
+
+Both , both , my lord .
+This letter , madam , craves a speedy answer ;
+'Tis from your sister .
+
+One way I like this well ;
+But being widow , and my Gloucester with her ,
+May all the building in my fancy pluck
+Upon my hateful life : another way ,
+This news is not so tart .
+
+I'll read and answer .
+
+
+Where was his son when they did take his eyes ?
+
+Come with my lady hither .
+
+He is not here .
+
+No , my good lord ; I met him back again .
+
+Knows he the wickedness ?
+
+Ay , my good lord ; 'twas he inform'd against him ,
+And quit the house on purpose that their punishment
+Might have the freer course .
+
+Gloucester , I live
+To thank thee for the love thou show'dst the king ,
+And to revenge thine eyes . Come hither , friend :
+Tell me what more thou knowest .
+
+
+Why the King of France is so suddenly gone back know you the reason ?
+
+Something he left imperfect in the state , which since his coming forth is thought of ; which imports to the kingdom so much fear and danger , that his personal return was most required and necessary .
+
+Who hath he left behind him general ?
+
+The Marshal of France , Monsieur la Far .
+
+Did your letters pierce the queen to any demonstration of grief ?
+
+Ay , sir ; she took them , read them in my presence ;
+And now and then an ample tear trill'd down
+Her delicate cheek ; it seem'd she was a queen
+Over her passion ; who , most rebel-like ,
+Sought to be king o'er her .
+
+O ! then it mov'd her .
+
+Not to a rage ; patience and sorrow strove
+Who should express her goodliest . You have seen
+Sunshine and rain at once ; her smiles and tears
+Were like a better way ; those happy smilets
+That play'd on her ripe lip seem'd not to know
+What guests were in her eyes ; which parted thence ,
+As pearls from diamonds dropp'd . In brief ,
+Sorrow would be a rarity most belov'd ,
+If all could so become it .
+
+Made she no verbal question ?
+
+Faith , once or twice she heav'd the name of 'father'
+Pantingly forth , as if it press'd her heart ;
+Cried , 'Sisters ! sisters ! Shame of ladies ! sisters !
+Kent ! father ! sisters ! What , i' the storm ? i' the night ?
+Let pity not be believed !' There she shook
+The holy water from her heavenly eyes ,
+And clamour-moisten'd , then away she started
+To deal with grief alone .
+
+It is the stars ,
+The stars above us , govern our conditions ;
+Else one self mate and make could not beget
+Such different issues . You spoke not with her since ?
+
+No .
+
+Was this before the king return'd ?
+
+No , since .
+
+Well , sir , the poor distress'd Lear's i' the town ,
+Who sometime , in his better tune , remembers
+What we are come about , and by no means
+Will yield to see his daughter .
+
+Why , good sir ?
+
+A sovereign shame so elbows him : his own unkindness ,
+That stripp'd her from his benediction , turn'd her
+To foreign casualties , gave her dear rights
+To his dog-hearted daughters ,these things sting
+His mind so venomously that burning shame
+Detains him from Cordelia .
+
+Alack ! poor gentleman .
+
+Of Albany's and Cornwall's powers you heard not ?
+
+'Tis so , they are afoot .
+
+Well , sir , I'll bring you to our master Lear ,
+And leave you to attend him . Some dear cause
+Will in concealment wrap me up awhile ;
+When I am known aright , you shall not grieve
+Lending me this acquaintance . I pray you , go
+Along with me .
+
+
+Alack ! 'tis he : why , he was met even now
+As mad as the vex'd sea ; singing aloud ;
+Crown'd with rank fumiter and furrow weeds ,
+With burdocks , hemlock , nettles , cuckoo-flowers ,
+Darnel , and all the idle weeds that grow
+In our sustaining corn . A century send forth ;
+Search every acre in the high-grown field ,
+And bring him to our eye .
+
+What can man's wisdom
+In the restoring his bereaved sense ?
+He that helps him take all my outward worth .
+
+There is means , madam ;
+Our foster-nurse of nature is repose ,
+The which he lacks ; that to provoke in him ,
+Are many simples operative , whose power
+Will close the eye of anguish .
+
+All bless'd secrets ,
+All you unpublish'd virtues of the earth ,
+Spring with my tears ! be aidant and remediate
+In the good man's distress ! Seek , seek for him ,
+Lest his ungovern'd rage dissolve the life
+That wants the means to lead it .
+
+
+News , madam ;
+The British powers are marching hitherward .
+
+'Tis known before ; our preparation stands
+In expectation of them . O dear father !
+It is thy business that I go about ;
+Therefore great France
+My mourning and important tears hath pitied ,
+No blown ambition doth our arms incite ,
+But love , dear love , and our ag'd father's right ,
+Soon may I hear and see him !
+
+
+But are my brother's powers set forth ?
+
+Ay , madam .
+
+Himself in person there ?
+
+Madam , with much ado :
+Your sister is the better soldier .
+
+Lord Edmund spake not with your lord at home ?
+
+No , madam .
+
+What might import my sister's letter to him ?
+
+I know not , lady .
+
+Faith , he is posted hence on serious matter .
+It was great ignorance , Gloucester's eyes being out ,
+To let him live ; where he arrives he moves
+All hearts against us . Edmund , I think , is gone ,
+In pity of his misery , to dispatch
+His nighted life ; moreover , to descry
+The strength o' the enemy .
+
+I must needs after him , madam , with my letter .
+
+Our troops set forth to-morrow ; stay with us ,
+The ways are dangerous .
+
+I may not , madam ;
+My lady charg'd my duty in this business .
+
+Why should she write to Edmund ? Might not you
+Transport her purposes by word ? Belike ,
+Something I know not what . I'll love thee much ,
+Let me unseal the letter .
+
+Madam , I had rather
+
+I know your lady does not love her husband ;
+I am sure of that : and at her late being here
+She gave strange ceilliades and most speaking looks
+To noble Edmund . I know you are of her bosom .
+
+I , madam !
+
+I speak in understanding ; you are , I know't :
+Therefore I do advise you , take this note :
+My lord is dead ; Edmund and I have talk'd ,
+And more convenient is he for my hand
+Than for your lady's . You may gather more .
+If you do find him , pray you , give him this ,
+And when your mistress hears thus much from you ,
+I pray desire her call her wisdom to her :
+So , fare you well .
+If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor ,
+Preferment falls on him that cuts him off .
+
+Would I could meet him , madam : I would show
+What party I do follow .
+
+Fare thee well .
+
+
+When shall I come to the top of that same hill ?
+
+You do climb up it now ; look how we labour .
+
+Methinks the ground is even .
+
+Horrible steep :
+Hark ! do you hear the sea ?
+
+No , truly .
+
+Why , then you other senses grow imperfect
+By your eyes' anguish .
+
+So may it be , indeed .
+Methinks thy voice is alter'd , and thou speak'st
+In better phrase and matter than thou didst .
+
+Y'are much deceiv'd ; in nothing am I chang'd
+But in my garments .
+
+Methinks you're better spoken .
+
+Come on , sir ; here's the place : stand still .
+How fearful
+And dizzy 'tis to cast one's eyes so low !
+The crows and choughs that wing the midway air
+Show scarce so gross as beetles ; half way down
+Hangs one that gathers samphire , dreadful trade !
+Methinks he seems no bigger than his head .
+The fishermen that walk upon the beach
+Appear like mice , and yond tall anchoring bark
+Diminish'd to her cock , her cock a buoy
+Almost too small for sight . The murmuring surge ,
+That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes ,
+Cannot be heard so high . I'll look no more ,
+Lest my brain turn , and the deficient sight
+Topple down headlong .
+
+Set me where you stand .
+
+Give me your hand ; you are now within a foot
+Of the extreme verge : for all beneath the moon
+Would I not leap upright .
+
+Let go my hand .
+Here , friend , 's another purse ; in it a jewel
+Well worth a poor man's taking : fairies and gods
+Prosper it with thee ! Go thou further off ;
+Bid me farewell , and let me hear thee going .
+
+Now fare you well , good sir .
+
+
+With all my heart .
+
+Why I do trifle thus with his despair
+Is done to cure it .
+
+O you mighty gods !
+This world I do renounce , and , in your sights ,
+Shake patiently my great affliction off ;
+If I could bear it longer , and not fall
+To quarrel with your great opposeless wills ,
+My snuff and loathed part of nature should
+Burn itself out . If Edgar live , O , bless him !
+Now , fellow , fare thee well .
+
+
+Gone , sir : farewell .
+
+
+And yet I know not how conceit may rob
+The treasury of life when life itself
+Yields to the theft ; had he been where he thought
+By this had thought been past . Alive or dead ?
+
+
+Ho , you sir ! friend ! Hear you , sir ? speak !
+Thus might he pass indeed ; yet he revives .
+What are you , sir ?
+
+Away and let me die .
+
+Hadst thou been aught but gossamer , feathers , air ,
+So many fathom down precipitating ,
+Thou'dst shiver'd like an egg ; but thou dost breathe ,
+Hast heavy substance , bleed'st not , speak'st , art sound .
+Ten masts at each make not the altitude
+Which thou hast perpendicularly fell :
+Thy life's a miracle . Speak yet again .
+
+But have I fallen or no ?
+
+From the dread summit of this chalky bourn .
+Look up a-height ; the shrill-gorg'd lark so far
+Cannot be seen or heard : do but look up .
+
+Alack ! I have no eyes .
+Is wretchedness depriv'd that benefit
+To end itself by death ? 'Twas yet some comfort ,
+When misery could beguile the tyrant's rage ,
+And frustrate his proud will .
+
+Give me your arm :
+Up : so . How is 't ? Feel you your legs ? You stand .
+
+Too well , too well .
+
+This is above all strangeness .
+Upon the crown o' the cliff , what thing was that
+Which parted from you ?
+
+A poor unfortunate beggar .
+
+As I stood here below methought his eyes
+Were two full moons ; he had a thousand noses ,
+Horns whelk'd and wav'd like the enridged sea :
+It was some fiend ; therefore , thou happy father ,
+Think that the clearest gods , who make them honours
+Of men's impossibilities , have preserv'd thee .
+
+I do remember now ; henceforth I'll bear
+Affliction till it do cry out itself
+'Enough , enough ,' and die . That thing you speak of
+I took it for a man ; often 'twould say
+'The fiend , the fiend :' he led me to that place .
+
+Bear free and patient thoughts . But who comes here ?
+
+
+The safer sense will ne'er accommodate
+
+His master thus .
+
+No , they cannot touch me for coining ;
+I am the king himself .
+
+O thou side-piercing sight !
+
+Nature's above art in that respect . There's your press-money . That fellow handles his bow like a crow-keeper : draw me a clothier's yard . Look , look ! a mouse . Peace , peace ! this piece of toasted cheese will do 't . There's my gauntlet ; I'll prove it on a giant . Bring up the brown bills . O ! well flown , bird ; i' the clout , i' the clout : hewgh ! Give the word .
+
+Sweet marjoram .
+
+Pass .
+
+I know that voice .
+
+Ha ! Goneril , with a white beard ! They flatter'd me like a dog , and told me I had white hairs in my beard ere the black ones were there . To say 'ay' and 'no' to everything I said ! 'Ay' and 'no' too was no good divinity . When the rain came to wet me once and the wind to make me chatter , when the thunder would not peace at my bidding , there I found 'em , there I smelt 'em out . Go to , they are not men o' their words : they told me I was every thing ; 'tis a lie , I am not ague-proof .
+
+The trick of that voice I do well remember :
+Is 't not the king ?
+
+Ay , every inch a king :
+When I do stare , see how the subject quakes .
+I pardon that man's life . What was thy cause ?
+Adultery ?
+Thou shalt not die : die for adultery ! No :
+The wren goes to 't , and the small gilded fly
+Does lecher in my sight .
+Let copulation thrive ; for Gloucester's bastard son
+Was kinder to his father than my daughters
+Got 'tween the lawful sheets .
+To 't luxury , pell-mell ! for I lack soldiers .
+Behold yond simpering dame ,
+Whose face between her forks presageth snow ;
+That minces virtue , and does shake the head
+To hear of pleasure's name ;
+The fitchew nor the soiled horse goes to 't
+With a more riotous appetite .
+Down from the waist they are Centaurs ,
+Though women all above :
+But to the girdle do the gods inherit ,
+Beneath is all the fiends' :
+There's hell , there's darkness , there is the sulphurous pit ,
+Burning , scalding , stench , consumption ; fie , fie , fie ! pah , pah ! Give me an ounce of civet , good apothecary , to sweeten my imagination : there's money for thee .
+
+O ! let me kiss that hand !
+
+Let me wipe it first ; it smells of mortality .
+
+O ruin'd piece of nature ! This great world
+Shall so wear out to nought . Dost thou know me ?
+
+I remember thine eyes well enough .
+Dost thou squiny at me ? No , do thy worst , blind Cupid ; I'll not love . Read thou this challenge ; mark but the penning of it .
+
+Were all the letters suns , I could not see .
+
+I would not take this from report ; it is ,
+And my heart breaks at it .
+
+Read .
+
+What ! with the case of eyes ?
+
+O , ho ! are you there with me ? No eyes in your head , nor no money in your purse ? Your eyes are in a heavy case , your purse in a light : yet you see how this world goes .
+
+I see it feelingly .
+
+What ! art mad ? A man may see how this world goes with no eyes . Look with thine ears : see how yound justice rails upon yon simple thief . Hark , in thine ear : change places ; and , handy-dandy , which is the justice , which is the thief ? Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar ?
+
+Ay , sir .
+
+And the creature run from the cur ? There thou mightst behold the great image of authority ; a dog's obey'd in office .
+Thou rascal beadle , hold thy bloody hand !
+Why dost thou lash that whore ? Strip thine own back ;
+Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind
+For which thou whipp'st her . The usurer hangs the cozener .
+Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear ;
+Robes and furr'd gowns hide all . Plate sin with gold ,
+And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks ;
+Arm it in rags , a pigmy's straw doth pierce it .
+None does offend , none , I say none ; I'll able 'em :
+Take that of me , my friend , who have the power
+To seal the accuser's lips . Get thee glass eyes ;
+And , like a scurvy politician , seem
+To see the things thou dost not . Now , now , now , now ;
+Pull off my boots ; harder , harder ; so .
+
+O ! matter and impertinency mix'd ;
+Reason in madness !
+
+If thou wilt weep my fortunes , take my eyes ;
+I know thee well enough ; thy name is Gloucester :
+Thou must be patient ; we came crying hither :
+Thou know'st the first time that we smell the air
+We waul and cry . I will preach to thee : mark .
+
+Alack ! alack the day !
+
+When we are born , we cry that we are come
+To this great stage of fools . This' a good block !
+It were a delicate stratagem to shoe
+A troop of horse with felt ; I'll put it in proof ,
+And when I have stol'n upon these sons-in-law ,
+Then , kill , kill , kill , kill , kill , kill !
+
+
+O ! here he is ; lay hand upon him . Sir ,
+Your most dear daughter
+
+No rescue ? What ! a prisoner ? I am even
+The natural fool of fortune . Use me well ;
+You shall have ransom . Let me have surgeons ;
+I am cut to the brains .
+
+You shall have any thing .
+
+No seconds ? All myself ?
+Why this would make a man a man of salt ,
+To use his eyes for garden water-pots ,
+Ay , and laying autumn's dust .
+
+Good sir ,
+
+I will die bravely as a bridegroom . What !
+I will be jovial : come , come ; I am a king ,
+My masters , know you that ?
+
+You are a royal one , and we obey you .
+
+Then there's life in it . Nay , an you get it , you shall get it by running . Sa , sa , sa , sa
+
+
+A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch ,
+Past speaking of in a king ! Thou hast one daughter ,
+Who redeems nature from the general curse
+Which twain have brought her to .
+
+Hail , gentle sir !
+
+Sir , speed you : what's your will ?
+
+Do you hear aught , sir , of a battle toward ?
+
+Most sure and vulgar ; every one hears that ,
+Which can distinguish sound .
+
+But , by your favour ,
+How near's the other army ?
+
+Near , and on speedy foot ; the main descry
+Stands on the hourly thought .
+
+I thank you , sir : that's all
+
+Though that the queen on special cause is here ,
+Her army is mov'd on .
+
+I thank you , sir .
+
+
+You ever-gentle gods , take my breath from me :
+Let not my worser spirit tempt me again
+To die before you please !
+
+Well pray you , father .
+
+Now , good sir , what are you ?
+
+A most poor man , made tame to fortune's blows ;
+Who , by the art of known and feeling sorrows ,
+Am pregnant to good pity . Give me your hand ,
+I'll lead you to some biding .
+
+Hearty thanks :
+The bounty and the benison of heaven
+To boot , and boot !
+
+
+A proclaim'd prize ! Most happy !
+That eyeless head of thine was first fram'd flesh
+To raise my fortunes . Thou old unhappy traitor ,
+Briefly thyself remember : the sword in out
+That must destroy thee .
+
+Now let thy friendly hand
+Put strength enough to 't .
+
+
+Wherefore , bold peasant ,
+Dar'st thou support a publish'd traitor ? Hence ;
+Lest that infection of his fortune take
+Like hold on thee . Let go his arm .
+
+Chill not let go , zur , without vurther 'casion .
+
+Let go , slave , or thou diest .
+
+Good gentleman , go your gait , and let poor volk pass . An chud ha' bin zwaggered out of my life , 'twould not ha' bin zo long as 'tis by a vortnight . Nay , come not near th' old man ; keep out , che vor ye , or ise try whether your costard or my ballow be the harder . Chill be plain with you .
+
+Out , dunghill !
+
+Chill pick your teeth , zur . Come ; no matter vor your foins .
+
+
+Slave , thou hast slain me . Villain , take my purse .
+If ever thou wilt thrive , bury my body ;
+And give the letters which thou find'st about me
+To Edmund Earl of Gloucester ; seek him out
+Upon the English party : O ! untimely death .
+
+
+I know thee well : a serviceable villain ;
+As duteous to the vices of thy mistress
+As badness would desire .
+
+What ! is he dead ?
+
+Sit you down , father ; rest you .
+Let's see his pockets : these letters that he speaks of
+May be my friends . He's dead ; I am only sorry
+He had no other deaths-man . Let us see :
+Leave , gentle wax ; and , manners , blame us not :
+To know our enemies' minds , we'd rip their hearts ;
+Their papers , is more lawful .
+Let our reciprocal vows be remembered . You have many opportunities to cut him off ; if your will want not , time and place will be fruitfully offered . There is nothing done if he return the conqueror ; then am I the prisoner , and his bed my gaol ; from the loathed warmth whereof deliver me , and supply the place for your labour .
+Your wife , so I would say
+Affectionate servant ,
+O undistinguish'd space of woman's will !
+A plot upon her virtuous husband's life ,
+And the exchange my brother ! Here , in the sands ,
+Thee I'll rake up , the post unsanctified
+Of murderous lechers ; and in the mature time
+With this ungracious paper strike the sight
+Of the death-practis'd duke . For him 'tis well
+That of thy death and business I can tell .
+
+The king is mad : how stiff is my vile sense ,
+That I stand up , and have ingenious feeling
+Of my huge sorrows ! Better I were distract :
+So should my thoughts be sever'd from my griefs ,
+And woes by wrong imaginations lose
+The knowledge of themselves .
+
+
+Give me your hand :
+Far off , methinks , I hear the beaten drum .
+Come , father , I'll bestow you with a friend .
+
+
+O thou good Kent ! how shall I live and work
+To match thy goodness ? My life will be too short ,
+And every measure fail me .
+
+To be acknowledg'd , madam , is o'erpaid .
+All my reports go with the modest truth ,
+Nor more nor clipp'd , but so .
+
+Be better suited :
+These weeds are memories of those worser hours :
+I prithee , put them off .
+
+Pardon me , dear madam ;
+Yet to be known shortens my made intent :
+My boon I make it that you know me not
+Till time and I think meet .
+
+Then be 't so , my good lord .
+
+How does the king ?
+
+Madam , sleeps still .
+
+O you kind gods ,
+Cure this great breach in his abused nature !
+The untun'd and jarring senses , O ! wind up
+Of this child-changed father !
+
+So please your majesty
+That we may wake the king ? he hath slept long .
+
+Be govern'd by your knowledge , and proceed
+I' the sway of your own will . Is he array'd ?
+
+
+Ay , madam ; in the heaviness of sleep ,
+We put fresh garments on him .
+
+Be by , good madam , when we do awake him ;
+I doubt not of his temperance .
+
+Very well .
+
+
+Please you , draw near . Louder the music there .
+
+O my dear father ! Restoration , hang
+Thy medicine on my lips , and let this kiss
+Repair those violent harms that my two sisters
+Have in thy reverence made !
+
+Kind and dear princess !
+
+Had you not been their father , these white flakes
+Had challeng'd pity of them . Was this a face
+To be expos'd against the warring winds ?
+To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder ?
+In the most terrible and nimble stroke
+Of quick cross lightning ? to watch poor perdu !
+With this thin helm ? Mine enemy's dog ,
+Though he had bit me , should have stood that night
+Against my fire . And wast thou fain , poor father ,
+To hovel thee with swine and rogues forlorn ,
+In short and musty straw ? Alack , alack !
+'Tis wonder that thy life and wits at once
+Had not concluded all . He wakes ; speak to him .
+
+Madam , do you ; 'tis fittest .
+
+How does my royal lord ? How fares your majesty ?
+
+You do me wrong to take me out o' the grave ;
+Thou art a soul in bliss ; but I am bound
+Upon a wheel of fire , that mine own tears
+Do scald like molten lead .
+
+Sir , do you know me ?
+
+You are a spirit , I know ; when did you die ?
+
+Still , still , far wide .
+
+He's scarce awake ; let him alone awhile .
+
+Where have I been ? Where am I ? Fair day-light ?
+I am mightily abus'd . I should even die with pity
+To see another thus . I know not what to say .
+I will not swear these are my hands : let's see ;
+I feel this pin prick . Would I were assur'd
+Of my condition !
+
+O ! look upon me , sir ,
+And hold your hands in benediction o'er me .
+No , sir , you must not kneel .
+
+Pray , do not mock me :
+I am a very foolish fond old man ,
+Fourscore and upward , not an hour more or less ;
+And , to deal plainly ,
+I fear I am not in my perfect mind .
+Methinks I should know you and know this man ;
+Yet I am doubtful : for I am mainly ignorant
+What place this is , and all the skill I have
+Remembers not these garments ; nor I know not
+Where I did lodge last night . Do not laugh at me ;
+For , as I am a man , I think this lady
+To be my child Cordelia .
+
+And so I am , I am .
+
+Be your tears wet ? Yes , faith . I pray , weep not :
+If you have poison for me , I will drink it .
+I know you do not love me ; for your sisters
+Have , as I do remember , done me wrong :
+You have some cause , they have not .
+
+No cause , no cause .
+
+Am I in France ?
+
+In your own kingdom , sir .
+
+Do not abuse me .
+
+Be comforted , good madam ; the great rage ,
+You see , is kill'd in him ; and yet it is danger
+To make him even o'er the time he has lost .
+Desire him to go in ; trouble him no more
+Till further settling .
+
+Will 't please your highness walk ?
+
+You must bear with me .
+Pray you now , forget and forgive : I am old and foolish .
+
+
+Holds it true , sir , that the Duke of Cornwall was so slain ?
+
+Most certain , sir .
+
+Who is conductor of his people ?
+
+As 'tis said , the bastard son of Gloucester .
+
+They say Edgar , his banished son , is with the Earl of Kent in Germany .
+
+Report is changeable . 'Tis time to look about ; the powers of the kingdom approach apace .
+
+The arbitrement is like to be bloody .
+Fare you well , sir .
+
+
+My point and period will be throughly wrought ,
+Or well or ill , as this day's battle's fought .
+
+Know of the duke if his last purpose hold ,
+Or whether since he is advis'd by aught
+To change the course ; he's full of alteration
+And self-reproving ; bring his constant pleasure .
+
+
+Our sister's man is certainly miscarried .
+
+'Tis to be doubted , madam .
+
+Now , sweet lord ,
+You know the goodness I intend upon you :
+Tell me , but truly , but then speak the truth ,
+Do you not love my sister ?
+
+In honour'd love .
+
+But have you never found my brother's way
+To the forefended place ?
+
+That thought abuses you .
+
+I am doubtful that you have been conjunct
+And bosom'd with her , as far as we call hers .
+
+No , by mine honour , madam .
+
+I never shall endure her : dear my lord ,
+Be not familiar with her .
+
+Fear me not .
+She and the duke her husband !
+
+
+I had rather lose the battle than that sister
+Should loosen him and me .
+
+Our very loving sister , well be-met .
+Sir , this I heard , the king is come to his daughter ,
+With others ; whom the rigour of our state
+Forc'd to cry out . Where I could not be honest
+I never yet was valiant : for this business ,
+It toucheth us , as France invades our land ,
+Not bolds the king , with others , whom , I fear ,
+Most just and heavy causes make oppose .
+
+Sir , you speak nobly .
+
+Why is this reason'd ?
+
+Combine together 'gainst the enemy ;
+For these domestic and particular broils
+Are not the question here .
+
+Let's then determine
+With the ancient of war on our proceeding .
+
+I shall attend you presently at your tent .
+
+Sister , you'll go with us ?
+
+No .
+
+'Tis most convenient ; pray you , go with us .
+
+O , ho ! I know the riddle . [Aloud .] I will go .
+
+
+If e'er your Grace had speech with man so poor ,
+Hear me one word .
+
+I'll overtake you . Speak .
+
+
+Before you fight the battle , ope this letter .
+If you have victory , let the trumpet sound
+For him that brought it : wretched though I seem ,
+I can produce a champion that will prove
+What is avouched there . If you miscarry ,
+Your business of the world hath so an end ,
+And machination ceases . Fortune love you !
+
+Stay till I have read the letter .
+
+I was forbid it .
+When time shall serve , let but the herald cry ,
+And I'll appear again .
+
+Why , fare thee well : I will o'erlook thy paper .
+
+The enemy's in view ; draw up your powers .
+Here is the guess of their true strength and forces
+By diligent discovery ; but your haste
+Is now urg'd on you .
+
+We will greet the time .
+
+
+To both these sisters have I sworn my love ;
+Each jealous of the other , as the stung
+Are of the adder . Which of them shall I take ?
+Both ? one ? or neither ? Neither can be enjoy'd
+If both remain alive : to take the widow
+Exasperates , makes mad her sister Goneril ;
+And hardly shall I carry out my side ,
+Her husband being alive . Now then , we'll use
+His countenance for the battle ; which being done
+Let her who would be rid of him devise
+His speedy taking off . As for the mercy
+Which he intends to Lear , and to Cordelia ,
+The battle done , and they within our power ,
+Shall never see his pardon ; for my state
+Stands on me to defend , not to debate .
+
+Here , father , take the shadow of this tree
+For your good host ; pray that the right may thrive .
+If ever I return to you again ,
+I'll bring you comfort .
+
+Grace go with you , sir !
+
+Away , old man ! give me thy hand : away !
+King Lear hath lost , he and his daughter ta'en .
+Give me thy hand ; come on .
+
+No further , sir ; a man may rot even here .
+
+What ! in ill thoughts again ? Men must endure
+Their going hence , even as their coming hither :
+Ripeness is all . Come on .
+
+And that's true too .
+
+Some officers take them away : good guard ,
+Until their greater pleasures first be known
+That are to censure them .
+
+We are not the first
+Who , with best meaning , have incurr'd the worst .
+For thee , oppressed king , am I cast down ;
+Myself could else out-frown false Fortune's frown .
+Shall we not see these daughters and these sisters ?
+
+No , no , no , no ! Come , let's away to prison ;
+We two alone will sing like birds i' the cage :
+When thou dost ask me blessing , I'll kneel down ,
+And ask of thee forgiveness : so we'll live ,
+And pray , and sing , and tell old tales , and laugh
+At gilded butterflies , and hear poor rogues
+Talk of court news ; and we'll talk with them too ,
+Who loses and who wins ; who's in , who's out ;
+And take upon's the mystery of things ,
+As if we were God's spies : and we'll wear out ,
+In a wall'd prison , packs and sets of great ones
+That ebb and flow by the moon .
+
+Take them away .
+
+Upon such sacrifices , my Cordelia ,
+The gods themselves throw incense . Have I caught thee ?
+He that parts us shall bring a brand from heaven ,
+And fire us hence like foxes . Wipe thine eyes ;
+The goujeres shall devour them , flesh and fell ,
+Ere they shall make us weep : we'll see 'em starve first .
+Come .
+
+
+Come hither , captain ; hark ,
+Take thou this note ;
+
+go follow them to prison :
+One step I have advanc'd thee ; if thou dost
+As this instructs thee , thou dost make thy way
+To noble fortunes ; know thou this , that men
+Are as the time is ; to be tender-minded
+Does not become a sword ; thy great employment
+Will not bear question ; either say thou'lt do't ,
+Or thrive by other means .
+
+I'll do't , my lord .
+
+About it ; and write happy when thou hast done .
+Mark ,I say , instantly , and carry it so
+As I have set it down .
+
+I cannot draw a cart nor eat dried oats ;
+If it be man's work I will do it .
+
+Sir , you have show'd to-day your valiant strain ,
+And fortune led you well ; you have the captives
+Who were the opposites of this day's strife ;
+We do require them of you , so to use them
+As we shall find their merits and our safety
+May equally determine .
+
+Sir , I thought it fit
+To send the old and miserable king
+To some retention , and appointed guard ;
+Whose age has charms in it , whose title more ,
+To pluck the common bosom on his side ,
+And turn our impress'd lances in our eyes
+Which do command them . With him I sent the queen ;
+My reason all the same ; and they are ready
+To-morrow , or at further space , to appear
+Where you shall hold your session . At this time
+We sweat and bleed ; the friend hath lost his friend ,
+And the best quarrels , in the heat , are curs'd
+By those that feel their sharpness ;
+The question of Cordelia and her father
+Requires a fitter place .
+
+Sir , by your patience ,
+I hold you but a subject of this war ,
+Not as a brother .
+
+That's as we list to grace him :
+Methinks our pleasure might have been demanded ,
+Ere you had spoke so far . He led our powers ,
+Bore the commission of my place and person ;
+The which immediacy may well stand up ,
+And call itself your brother .
+
+Not so hot ;
+In his own grace he doth exalt himself
+More than in your addition .
+
+In my rights ,
+By me invested , he compeers the best .
+
+That were the most , if he should husband you .
+
+Jesters do oft prove prophets .
+
+Holla , holla !
+That eye that told you so look'd but a-squint .
+
+Lady , I am not well ; else I should answer
+From a full-flowing stomach . General ,
+Take thou my soldiers , prisoners , patrimony ;
+Dispose of them , of me ; the walls are thine ;
+Witness the world , that I create thee here
+My lord and master .
+
+Mean you to enjoy him ?
+
+The let-alone lies not in your good will .
+
+Nor in thine , lord .
+
+Half-blooded fellow , yes .
+
+Let the drum strike , and prove my title thine .
+
+Stay yet ; hear reason . Edmund , I arrest thee
+On capital treason ; and , in thy arrest ,
+This gilded serpent .
+
+For your claim , fair sister ,
+I bar it in the interest of my wife ;
+'Tis she is sub-contracted to this lord ,
+And I , her husband , contradict your bans .
+If you will marry , make your love to me ,
+My lady is bespoke .
+
+An interlude !
+
+Thou art arm'd , Gloucester ; let the trumpet sound :
+If none appear to prove upon thy person
+Thy heinous , manifest , and many treasons ,
+There is my pledge ;
+
+I'll prove it on thy heart ,
+Ere I taste bread , thou art in nothing less
+Than I have here proclaim'd thee .
+
+Sick ! O sick !
+
+If not , I'll ne'er trust medicine .
+
+There's my exchange :
+
+what in the world he is
+That names me traitor , villain-like be lies .
+Call by thy trumpet : he that dares approach ,
+On him , on you , who not ? I will maintain
+My truth and honour firmly .
+
+A herald , ho !
+
+A herald , ho ! a herald !
+
+Trust to thy single virtue ; for thy soldiers ,
+All levied in my name , have in my name
+Took their discharge .
+
+My sickness grows upon me .
+
+She is not well ; convey her to my tent .
+
+Come hither , herald ,
+
+
+Let the trumpet sound ,
+
+And read out this .
+
+Sound , trumpet !
+
+
+If any man of quality or degree within the lists of the army will maintain upon Edmund , supposed Earl of Gloucester , that he is a manifold traitor , let him appear at the third sound of the trumpet . He is bold in his defence .
+
+Sound !
+
+
+Again !
+
+
+Again !
+
+
+Ask him his purposes , why he appears
+Upon this call o' the trumpet .
+
+What are you ?
+Your name ? your quality ? and why you answer
+This present summons ?
+
+Know , my name is lost ;
+By treason's tooth bare-gnawn and canker-bit :
+Yet am I noble as the adversary
+I come to cope .
+
+Which is that adversary ?
+
+What's he that speaks for Edmund Earl of Gloucester ?
+
+Himself : what sayst thou to him ?
+
+Draw thy sword ,
+That , if my speech offend a noble heart ,
+Thy arm may do thee justice ; here is mine :
+Behold , it is the privilege of mine honours ,
+My oath , and my profession : I protest ,
+Maugre thy strength , youth , place , and eminence ,
+Despite thy victor sword and fire-new fortune ,
+Thy valour and thy heart , thou art a traitor ,
+False to thy gods , thy brother , and thy father ,
+Conspirant 'gainst this high illustrious prince ,
+And , from the extremest upward of thy head
+To the descent and dust below thy foot ,
+A most toad-spotted traitor . Say thou 'No ,'
+This sword , this arm , and my best spirits are bent
+To prove upon thy heart , whereto I speak ,
+Thou liest .
+
+In wisdom I should ask thy name ;
+But since thy outside looks so fair and war-like ,
+And that thy tongue some say of breeding breathes ,
+What safe and nicely I might well delay
+By rule of knighthood , I disdain and spurn ;
+Back do I toss these treasons to thy head ,
+With the hell-hated lie o'erwhelm thy heart ,
+Which , for they yet glance by and scarcely bruise ,
+This sword of mine shall give them instant way ,
+Where they shall rest for ever . Trumpets , speak !
+
+
+Save him , save him !
+
+This is practice , Gloucester :
+By the law of arms thou wast not bound to answer
+An unknown opposite ; thou art not vanquish'd ,
+But cozen'd and beguil'd .
+
+Shut your mouth , dame ,
+Or with this paper shall I stop it . Hold , sir ;
+Thou worse than any name , read thine own evil :
+No tearing , lady ; I perceive you know it .
+
+
+Say , if I do , the laws are mine , not thine :
+Who can arraign me for 't ?
+
+
+Most monstrous !
+Know'st thou this paper ?
+
+Ask me not what I know .
+
+Go after her : she's desperate ; govern her .
+
+
+What you have charg'd me with , that have I done ,
+And more , much more ; the time will bring it out :
+'Tis past , and so am I . But what art thou
+That hast this fortune on me ? If thou'rt noble ,
+I do forgive thee .
+
+Let's exchange charity .
+I am no less in blood than thou art , Edmund ;
+If more , the more thou hast wrong'd me .
+My name is Edgar , and thy father's son .
+The gods are just , and of our pleasant vices
+Make instruments to plague us :
+The dark and vicious place where thee he got
+Cost him his eyes .
+
+Thou hast spoken right , 'tis true ;
+The wheel is come full circle ; I am here .
+
+Methought thy very gait did prophesy
+A royal nobleness : I must embrace thee :
+Let sorrow split my heart , if ever I
+Did hate thee or thy father .
+
+Worthy prince , I know 't .
+
+Where have you hid yourself ?
+How have you known the miseries of your father ?
+
+By nursing them , my lord . List a brief tale ;
+And , when 'tis told , O ! that my heart would burst ,
+The bloody proclamation to escape
+That follow'd me so near ,O ! our lives' sweetness ,
+That we the pain of death would hourly die
+Rather than die at once !taught me to shift
+Into a madman's rags , to assume a semblance
+That very dogs disdain'd : and in this habit
+Met I my father with his bleeding rings ,
+Their precious stones new lost ; became his guide ,
+Led him , begg'd for him , sav'd him from despair ;
+Never ,O fault !reveal'd myself unto him ,
+Until some half hour past , when I was arm'd ;
+Not sure , though hoping , of this good success ,
+I ask'd his blessing , and from first to last
+Told him my pilgrimage : but his flaw'd heart ,
+Alack ! too weak the conflict to support ;
+'Twixt two extremes of passion , joy and grief ,
+Burst smilingly .
+
+This speech of yours hath mov'd me ,
+And shall perchance do good ; but speak you on ;
+You look as you had something more to say .
+
+If there be more , more woeful , hold it in ;
+For I am almost ready to dissolve ,
+Hearing of this .
+
+This would have seem'd a period
+To such as love not sorrow ; but another ,
+To amplify too much , would make much more ,
+And top extremity .
+Whilst I was big in clamour came there a man ,
+Who , having seen me in my worst estate ,
+Shunn'd my abhorr'd society ; but then , finding
+Who 'twas that so endur'd , with his strong arms
+He fasten'd on my neck , and bellow'd out
+As he'd burst heaven ; threw him on my father ;
+Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him
+That ever ear receiv'd ; which in recounting
+His grief grew puissant , and the strings of life
+Began to crack : twice then the trumpet sounded ,
+And there I left him tranc'd .
+
+But who was this ?
+
+Kent , sir , the banish'd Kent ; who in disguise
+Follow'd his enemy king , and did him service
+Improper for a slave .
+
+
+Help , help ! O help !
+
+What kind of help ?
+
+Speak , man .
+
+What means that bloody knife ?
+
+'Tis hot , it smokes ;
+It came even from the heart of O ! she's dead .
+
+Who dead ? speak , man .
+
+Your lady , sir , your lady : and her sister
+By her is poison'd ; she confesses it .
+
+I was contracted to them both : all three
+Now marry in an instant .
+
+Here comes Kent .
+
+Produce the bodies , be they alive or dead :
+This judgment of the heavens , that makes us tremble ,
+Touches us not with pity .
+
+O ! is this he ?
+The time will not allow the compliment
+
+Which very manners urges .
+
+I am come
+To bid my king and master aye good-night ;
+Is he not here ?
+
+Great thing of us forgot !
+Speak , Edmund , where's the king ? and where's Cordelia ?
+Seest thou this object , Kent ?
+
+
+Alack ! why thus ?
+
+Yet Edmund was belov'd :
+The one the other poison'd for my sake ,
+And after slew herself .
+
+Even so . Cover their faces .
+
+I pant for life : some good I mean to do
+Despite of mine own nature . Quickly send ,
+Be brief in it , to the castle ; for my writ
+Is on the life of Lear and on Cordelia .
+Nay , send in time .
+
+Run , run ! O run !
+
+To whom , my lord ? Who has the office ? send
+Thy token of reprieve .
+
+Well thought on : take my sword ,
+Give it the captain .
+
+Haste thee , for thy life .
+
+
+He hath commission from my wife and me
+To hang Cordelia in the prison , and
+To lay the blame upon her own despair ,
+That she fordid herself .
+
+The gods defend her ! Bear him hence awhile .
+
+Howl , howl , howl , howl ! O ! you are men of stones :
+Had I your tongues and eyes , I'd use them so
+That heaven's vaults should crack . She's gone for ever .
+I know when one is dead , and when one lives ;
+She's dead as earth . Lend me a looking-glass ;
+If that her breath will mist or stain the stone ,
+Why , then she lives .
+
+Is this the promis'd end ?
+
+Or image of that horror ?
+
+Fall and cease ?
+
+This feather stirs ; she lives ! if it be so ,
+It is a chance which does redeem all sorrows
+That ever I have felt .
+
+O , my good master !
+
+Prithee , away .
+
+'Tis noble Kent , your friend .
+
+A plague upon you , murderers , traitors all !
+I might have sav'd her ; now , she's gone for ever !
+Cordelia , Cordelia ! stay a little . Ha !
+What is 't thou sayst ? Her voice was ever soft ,
+Gentle and low , an excellent thing in woman .
+I kill'd the slave that was a hanging thee .
+
+'Tis true , my lord , he did .
+
+Did I not , fellow ?
+I have seen the day , with my good biting falchion
+I would have made them skip : I am old now ,
+And these same crosses spoil me . Who are you ?
+Mine eyes are not o' the best : I'll tell you straight .
+
+If fortune brag of two she lov'd and hated ,
+One of them we behold .
+
+This is a dull sight . Are you not Kent ?
+
+The same ,
+Your servant Kent . Where is your servant Caius ?
+
+He's a good fellow , I can tell you that ;
+He'll strike , and quickly too . He's dead and rotten .
+
+No , my good lord ; I am the very man
+
+I'll see that straight .
+
+That , from your first of difference and decay ,
+Have follow'd your sad steps .
+
+You are welcome hither .
+
+Nor no man else ; all's cheerless , dark , and deadly :
+Your eldest daughters have fordone themselves ,
+And desperately are dead .
+
+Ay , so I think .
+
+He knows not what he says , and vain it is
+That we present us to him .
+
+Very bootless .
+
+
+Edmund is dead , my lord .
+
+That's but a trifle here .
+You lords and noble friends , know our intent ;
+What comfort to this great decay may come
+Shall be applied : for us , we will resign ,
+During the life of this old majesty ,
+To him our absolute power :
+
+You , to your rights ;
+With boot and such addition as your honours
+Have more than merited . All friends shall taste
+The wages of their virtue , and all foes
+The cup of their deservings . O ! see , see !
+
+And my poor fool is hang'd ! No , no , no life !
+Why should a dog , a horse , a rat , have life ,
+And thou no breath at all ? Thou'lt come no more ,
+Never , never , never , never , never !
+Pray you , undo this button : thank you , sir .
+Do you see this ? Look on her , look , her lips ,
+Look there , look there !
+
+
+He faints !my lord , my lord !
+
+Break , heart ; I prithee , break .
+
+Look up , my lord .
+
+Vex not his ghost : O ! let him pass ; he hates him
+That would upon the rack of this tough world
+Stretch him out longer .
+
+He is gone , indeed .
+
+The wonder is he hath endur'd so long :
+He but usurp'd his life .
+
+Bear them from hence . Our present business
+Is general woe .
+
+Friends of my soul , you twain
+Rule in this realm , and the gor'd state sustain .
+
+I have a journey , sir , shortly to go ;
+My master calls me , I must not say no .
+
+The weight of this sad time we must obey ;
+Speak what we feel , not what we ought to say .
+The oldest hath borne most : we that are young ,
+Shall never see so much , nor live so long .
+
+MACBETH
+
+When shall we three meet again
+In thunder , lightning , or in rain ?
+
+When the hurlyburly's done ,
+When the battle's lost and won .
+
+That will be ere the set of sun .
+
+Where the place ?
+
+Upon the heath .
+
+There to meet with Macbeth .
+
+I come , Graymalkin !
+
+Paddock calls .
+
+Anon .
+
+Fair is foul , and foul is fair :
+Hover through the fog and filthy air .
+
+What bloody man is that ? He can report ,
+As seemeth by his plight , of the revolt
+The newest state .
+
+This is the sergeant
+Who , like a good and hardy soldier fought
+'Gainst my captivity . Hail , brave friend !
+Say to the king the knowledge of the broil
+As thou didst leave it .
+
+Doubtful it stood ;
+As two spent swimmers , that do cling together
+And choke their art . The merciless Macdonwald
+Worthy to be a rebel , for to that
+The multiplying villanies of nature
+Do swarm upon him from the western isles
+Of kerns and gallowglasses is supplied ;
+And fortune , on his damned quarrel smiling ,
+Show'd like a rebel's whore : but all's too weak ;
+For brave Macbeth ,well he deserves that name ,
+Disdaining fortune , with his brandish'd steel ,
+Which smok'd with bloody execution ,
+Like valour's minion carv'd out his passage
+Till he fac'd the slave ;
+Which ne'er shook hands , nor bade farewell to him ,
+Till he unseam'd him from the nave to the chaps ,
+And fix'd his head upon our battlements .
+
+O valiant cousin ! worthy gentleman !
+
+As whence the sun 'gins his reflection
+Shipwracking storms and direful thunders break ,
+So from that spring whence comfort seem'd to come
+Discomfort swells . Mark , King of Scotland , mark :
+No sooner justice had with valour arm'd
+Compell'd these skipping kerns to trust their heels ,
+But the Norweyan lord surveying vantage ,
+With furbish'd arms and new supplies of men
+Began a fresh assault .
+
+Dismay'd not this
+Our captains , Macbeth and Banquo ?
+
+Yes ;
+As sparrows eagles , or the hare the lion .
+If I say sooth , I must report they were
+As cannons overcharg'd with double cracks ;
+So they
+Doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe :
+Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds ,
+Or memorize another Golgotha ,
+I cannot tell
+But I am faint , my gashes cry for help .
+
+So well thy words become thee as thy wounds ;
+They smack of honour both . Go , get him surgeons .
+
+
+Who comes here ?
+
+The worthy Thane of Ross .
+
+What a haste looks through his eyes ! So should he look
+That seems to speak things strange .
+
+God save the king !
+
+Whence cam'st thou , worthy thane ?
+
+From Fife , great king ;
+Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky
+And fan our people cold . Norway himself ,
+With terrible numbers ,
+Assisted by that most disloyal traitor ,
+The Thane of Cawdor , began a dismal conflict ;
+Till that Bellona's bridegroom , lapp'd in proof ,
+Confronted him with self-comparisons ,
+Point against point , rebellious arm 'gainst arm ,
+Curbing his lavish spirit : and , to conclude ,
+The victory fell on us .
+
+Great happiness !
+
+That now
+Sweno , the Norways' king , craves composition ;
+Nor would we deign him burial of his men
+Till he disbursed , at Saint Colme's Inch ,
+Ten thousand dollars to our general use .
+
+No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceive
+Our bosom interest . Go pronounce his present death ,
+And with his former title greet Macbeth .
+
+I'll see it done .
+
+What he hath lost noble Macbeth hath won .
+
+
+Where hast thou been , sister ?
+
+Killing swine .
+
+Sister , where thou ?
+
+A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her lap ,
+And munch'd , and munch'd , and munch'd : 'Give me ,' quoth I :
+'Aroint thee , witch !' the rump-fed ronyon cries .
+Her husband's to Aleppo gone , master o' the Tiger :
+But in a sieve I'll thither sail ,
+And , like a rat without a tail ,
+I'll do , I'll do , and I'll do .
+
+I'll give thee a wind .
+
+Thou'rt kind .
+
+And I another .
+
+I myself have all the other ;
+And the very ports they blow ,
+All the quarters that they know
+I' the shipman's card .
+I'll drain him dry as hay :
+Sleep shall neither night nor day
+Hang upon his pent-house lid ;
+He shall live a man forbid .
+Weary se'nnights nine times nine
+Shall he dwindle , peak and pine :
+Though his bark cannot be lost ,
+Yet it shall be tempest-tost .
+Look what I have .
+
+Show me , show me .
+
+Here I have a pilot's thumb ,
+Wrack'd as homeward he did come .
+
+
+A drum ! a drum !
+Macbeth doth come .
+
+The weird sisters , hand in hand ,
+Posters of the sea and land ,
+Thus do go about , about :
+Thrice to thine , and thrice to mine ,
+And thrice again , to make up nine .
+Peace ! the charm's wound up .
+
+
+So foul and fair a day I have not seen .
+
+How far is 't call'd to Forres ? What are these ,
+So wither'd and so wild in their attire ,
+That look not like th' inhabitants o' the earth ,
+And yet are on 't ? Live you ? or are you aught
+That man may question ? You seem to understand me ,
+By each at once her choppy finger laying
+Upon her skinny lips : you should be women ,
+And yet your beards forbid me to interpret
+That you are so .
+
+Speak , if you can : what are you ?
+
+All hail , Macbeth ! hail to thee , Thane of Glamis !
+
+All hail , Macbeth ! hail to thee , Thane of Cawdor !
+
+All hail , Macbeth ! that shalt be king hereafter .
+
+Good sir , why do you start , and seem to fear
+Things that do sound so fair ? I' the name of truth ,
+Are ye fantastical , or that indeed
+Which outwardly ye show ? My noble partner
+You greet with present grace and great prediction
+Of noble having and of royal hope ,
+That he seems rapt withal : to me you speak not .
+If you can look into the seeds of time ,
+And say which grain will grow and which will not ,
+Speak then to me , who neither beg nor fear
+Your favours nor your hate .
+
+Hail !
+
+Hail !
+
+Hail !
+
+Lesser than Macbeth , and greater .
+
+Not so happy , yet much happier .
+
+Thou shalt get kings , though thou be none :
+So , all hail , Macbeth and Banquo !
+
+Banquo and Macbeth , all hail !
+
+Stay , you imperfect speakers , tell me more :
+By Sinel's death I know I am Thane of Glamis ;
+But how of Cawdor ? the Thane of Cawdor lives ,
+A prosperous gentleman ; and to be king
+Stands not within the prospect of belief
+No more than to be Cawdor . Say , from whence
+You owe this strange intelligence ? or why
+Upon this blasted heath you stop our way
+With such prophetic greeting ? Speak , I charge you .
+
+
+The earth hath bubbles , as the water has ,
+And these are of them . Whither are they vanish'd ?
+
+Into the air , and what seem'd corporal melted
+As breath into the wind . Would they had stay'd !
+
+Were such things here as we do speak about ?
+Or have we eaten on the insane root
+That takes the reason prisoner ?
+
+Your children shall be kings .
+
+You shall be king .
+
+And Thane of Cawdor too ; went it not so ?
+
+To the self-same tune and words . Who's here ?
+
+
+The king hath happily receiv'd , Macbeth ,
+The news of thy success ; and when he reads
+Thy personal venture in the rebels' fight ,
+His wonders and his praises do contend
+Which should be thine or his . Silenc'd with that ,
+In viewing o'er the rest o' the self-same day ,
+He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks ,
+Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make ,
+Strange images of death . As thick as hail
+Came post with post , and every one did bear
+Thy praises in his kingdom's great defence ,
+And pour'd them down before him .
+
+We are sent
+To give thee from our royal master thanks ;
+Only to herald thee into his sight ,
+Not pay thee .
+
+And , for an earnest of a greater honour ,
+He bade me , from him , call thee Thane of Cawdor :
+In which addition , hail , most worthy thane !
+For it is thine .
+
+What ! can the devil speak true ?
+
+The Thane of Cawdor lives : why do you dress me
+In borrow'd robes ?
+
+Who was the thane lives yet ;
+But under heavy judgment bears that life
+Which he deserves to lose . Whether he was combin'd
+With those of Norway , or did line the rebel
+With hidden help or vantage , or that with both
+He labour'd in his country's wrack , I know not ;
+But treasons capital , confess'd and prov'd ,
+Have overthrown him .
+
+Glamis , and Thane of Cawdor :
+The greatest is behind .
+
+Thanks for your pains .
+
+
+Do you not hope your children shall be kings ,
+When those that gave the Thane of Cawdor to me
+Promis'd no less to them ?
+
+That , trusted home ,
+Might yet enkindle you unto the crown ,
+Besides the Thane of Cawdor . But 'tis strange :
+And oftentimes , to win us to our harm ,
+The instruments of darkness tell us truths ,
+Win us with honest trifles , to betray's
+In deepest consequence .
+Cousins , a word , I pray you .
+
+Two truths are told ,
+As happy prologues to the swelling act
+Of the imperial theme . I thank you , gentlemen .
+
+
+This supernatural soliciting
+Cannot be ill , cannot be good ; if ill ,
+Why hath it given me earnest of success ,
+Commencing in a truth ? I am Thane of Cawdor :
+If good , why do I yield to that suggestion
+Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair
+And make my seated heart knock at my ribs ,
+Against the use of nature ? Present fears
+Are less than horrible imaginings ;
+My thought , whose murder yet is but fantastical ,
+Shakes so my single state of man that function
+Is smother'd in surmise , and nothing is
+But what is not .
+
+Look , how our partner's rapt .
+
+If chance will have me king , why , chance may crown me ,
+Without my stir .
+
+New honours come upon him ,
+Like our strange garments , cleave not to their mould
+But with the aid of use .
+
+Come what come may ,
+Time and the hour runs through the roughest day .
+
+Worthy Macbeth , we stay upon your leisure .
+
+Give me your favour : my dull brain was wrought
+With things forgotten . Kind gentlemen , your pains
+Are register'd where every day I turn
+The leaf to read them . Let us toward the king .
+Think upon what hath chanc'd ; and , at more time ,
+The interim having weigh'd it , let us speak
+Our free hearts each to other .
+
+Very gladly .
+
+Till then , enough . Come , friends .
+
+
+Is execution done on Cawdor ? Are not
+Those in commission yet return'd ?
+
+My liege ,
+They are not yet come back ; but I have spoke
+With one that saw him die ; who did report
+That very frankly he confess'd his treasons ,
+Implor'd your highness' pardon and set forth
+A deep repentance . Nothing in his life
+Became him like the leaving it ; he died
+As one that had been studied in his death
+To throw away the dearest thing he ow'd ,
+As 'twere a careless trifle .
+
+There's no art
+To find the mind's construction in the face :
+He was a gentleman on whom I built
+An absolute trust .
+
+
+O worthiest cousin !
+The sin of my ingratitude even now
+Was heavy on me . Thou art so far before
+That swiftest wing of recompense is slow
+To overtake thee ; would thou hadst less deserv'd ,
+That the proportion both of thanks and payment
+Might have been mine ! only I have left to say ,
+
+More is thy due than more than all can pay .
+
+The service and the loyalty I owe ,
+In doing it , pays itself . Your highness' part
+Is to receive our duties : and our duties
+Are to your throne and state , children and servants ;
+Which do but what they should , by doing everything
+Safe toward your love and honour .
+
+Welcome hither :
+I have begun to plant thee , and will labour
+To make thee full of growing . Noble Banquo ,
+That hast no less deserv'd , nor must be known
+No less to have done so , let me infold thee
+And hold thee to my heart .
+
+There if I grow ,
+The harvest is your own .
+
+My plenteous joys
+Wanton in fulness , seek to hide themselves
+In drops of sorrow . Sons , kinsmen , thanes ,
+And you whose places are the nearest , know
+We will establish our estate upon
+Our eldest , Malcolm , whom we name hereafter
+The Prince of Cumberland ; which honour must
+Not unaccompanied invest him only ,
+But signs of nobleness , like stars , shall shine
+On all deservers . From hence to Inverness ,
+And bind us further to you .
+
+The rest is labour , which is not us'd for you :
+I'll be myself the harbinger , and make joyful
+The hearing of my wife with your approach ;
+So , humbly take my leave .
+
+My worthy Cawdor !
+
+The Prince of Cumberland ! that is a step
+On which I must fall down , or else o'er-leap ,
+For in my way it lies . Stars , hide your fires !
+Let not light see my black and deep desires ;
+The eye wink at the hand ; yet let that be
+Which the eye fears , when it is done , to see .
+
+
+True , worthy Banquo ; he is full so valiant ,
+And in his commendations I am fed ;
+It is a banquet to me . Let's after him ,
+Whose care is gone before to bid us welcome :
+It is a peerless kinsman .
+
+They met me in the day of success ; and I have learned by the perfectest report , they have more in them than mortal knowledge . When I burned in desire to question them further , they made themselves air , into which they vanished . Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it , came missives from the king , who all-hailed me , 'Thane of Cawdor ;' by which title , before , these weird sisters saluted me , and referred me to the coming on of time , with , 'Hail , king that shall be !' This have I thought good to deliver thee , my dearest partner of greatness , that thou mightest not lose the dues of rejoicing , by being ignorant of what greatness is promised thee . Lay it to thy heart , and farewell .
+Glamis thou art , and Cawdor ; and shalt be
+What thou art promis'd . Yet do I fear thy nature ;
+It is too full o' the milk of human kindness
+To catch the nearest way ; thou wouldst be great ,
+Art not without ambition , but without
+The illness should attend it ; what thou wouldst highly ,
+That thou wouldst holily ; wouldst not play false ,
+And yet wouldst wrongly win ; thou'dst have , great Glamis ,
+That which cries , 'Thus thou must do , if thou have it ;'
+And that which rather thou dost fear to do
+Than wishest should be undone . Hie thee hither ,
+That I may pour my spirits in thine ear ,
+And chastise with the valour of my tongue
+All that impedes thee from the golden round ,
+Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem
+To have thee crown'd withal .
+
+What is your tidings ?
+
+The king comes here to-night .
+
+Thou'rt mad to say it .
+Is not thy master with him ? who , were't so ,
+Would have inform'd for preparation .
+
+So please you , it is true : our thane is coming ;
+One of my fellows had the speed of him ,
+Who , almost dead for breath , had scarcely more
+Than would make up his message .
+
+Give him tending ;
+He brings great news .
+
+The raven himself is hoarse
+That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
+Under my battlements . Come , you spirits
+That tend on mortal thoughts ! unsex me here ,
+And fill me from the crown to the toe top full
+Of direst cruelty ; make thick my blood ,
+Stop up the access and passage to remorse ,
+That no compunctious visitings of nature
+Shake my fell purpose , nor keep peace between
+The effect and it ! Come to my woman's breasts ,
+And take my milk for gall , you murdering ministers ,
+Wherever in your sightless substances
+You wait on nature's mischief ! Come , thick night ,
+And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell ,
+That my keen knife see not the wound it makes ,
+Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark ,
+To cry , 'Hold , hold !'
+
+
+Great Glamis ! worthy Cawdor !
+Greater than both , by the all-hail hereafter !
+Thy letters have transported me beyond
+This ignorant present , and I feel now
+
+The future in the instant .
+
+My dearest love ,
+Duncan comes here to-night .
+
+And when goes hence ?
+
+To-morrow , as he purposes .
+
+O ! never
+Shall sun that morrow see .
+Your face , my thane , is as a book where men
+May read strange matters . To beguile the time ,
+Look like the time ; bear welcome in your eye ,
+Your hand , your tongue : look like the innocent flower ,
+But be the serpent under't . He that's coming
+Must be provided for ; and you shall put
+This night's great business into my dispatch ;
+Which shall to all our nights and days to come
+Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom .
+
+We will speak further .
+
+Only look up clear ;
+To alter favour ever is to fear .
+Leave all the rest to me .
+
+This castle hath a pleasant seat ; the air
+Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself
+Unto our gentle senses .
+
+This guest of summer ,
+The temple-haunting martlet , does approve
+By his lov'd mansionry that the heaven's breath
+Smells wooingly here : no jutty , frieze ,
+Buttress , nor coign of vantage , but this bird
+Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle :
+Where they most breed and haunt , I have observ'd
+The air is delicate .
+
+
+See , see , our honour'd hostess !
+The love that follows us sometime is our trouble ,
+Which still we thank as love . Herein I teach you
+How you shall bid God 'eyld us for your pains ,
+And thank us for your trouble .
+
+All our service ,
+In every point twice done , and then done double ,
+Were poor and single business , to contend
+Against those honours deep and broad wherewith
+Your majesty loads our house : for those of old ,
+And the late dignities heap'd up to them ,
+We rest your hermits .
+
+Where's the Thane of Cawdor ?
+We cours'd him at the heels , and had a purpose
+To be his purveyor ; but he rides well ,
+And his great love , sharp as his spur , hath holp him
+To his home before us . Fair and noble hostess ,
+We are your guest to-night .
+
+Your servants ever
+Have theirs , themselves , and what is theirs , in compt ,
+To make their audit at your highness' pleasure ,
+Still to return your own .
+
+Give me your hand ;
+Conduct me to mine host : we love him highly ,
+And shall continue our graces towards him .
+By your leave , hostess .
+
+If it were done when 'tis done , then 'twere well
+It were done quickly ; if the assassination
+Could trammel up the consequence , and catch
+With his surcease success ; that but this blow
+Might be the be-all and the end-all here ,
+But here , upon this bank and shoal of time ,
+We'd jump the life to come . But in these cases
+We still have judgment here ; that we but teach
+Bloody instructions , which , being taught , return
+To plague the inventor ; this even-handed justice
+Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice
+To our own lips . He's here in double trust :
+First , as I am his kinsman and his subject ,
+Strong both against the deed ; then , as his host ,
+Who should against his murderer shut the door ,
+Not bear the knife myself . Besides , this Duncan
+Hath borne his faculties so meek , hath been
+So clear in his great office , that his virtues
+Will plead like angels trumpet-tongu'd against
+The deep damnation of his taking-off ;
+And pity , like a naked new-born babe ,
+Striding the blast , or heaven's cherubin , hors'd
+Upon the sightless couriers of the air ,
+Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye ,
+That tears shall drown the wind . I have no spur
+To prick the sides of my intent , but only
+Vaulting ambition , which o'er-leaps itself
+And falls on the other .
+
+How now ! what news ?
+
+He has almost supp'd : why have you left the chamber ?
+
+Hath he ask'd for me ?
+
+Know you not he has ?
+
+We will proceed no further in this business :
+He hath honour'd me of late ; and I have bought
+Golden opinions from all sorts of people ,
+Which would be worn now in their newest gloss ,
+Not cast aside so soon .
+
+Was the hope drunk ,
+Wherein you dress'd yourself ? hath it slept since ,
+And wakes it now , to look so green and pale
+At what it did so freely ? From this time
+Such I account thy love . Art thou afeard
+To be the same in thine own act and valour
+As thou art in desire ? Wouldst thou have that
+Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life ,
+And live a coward in thine own esteem ,
+Letting 'I dare not' wait upon 'I would ,'
+Like the poor cat i' the adage ?
+
+Prithee , peace .
+I dare do all that may become a man ;
+Who dares do more is none .
+
+What beast was't , then ,
+That made you break this enterprise to me ?
+When you durst do it then you were a man ;
+And , to be more than what you were , you would
+Be so much more the man . Nor time nor place
+Did then adhere , and yet you would make both :
+They have made themselves , and that their fitness now
+Does unmake you . I have given suck , and know
+How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me :
+I would , while it was smiling in my face ,
+Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums ,
+And dash'd the brains out , had I so sworn as you
+Have done to this .
+
+If we should fail ,
+
+We fail !
+But screw your courage to the sticking-place ,
+And we'll not fail . When Duncan is asleep ,
+Whereto the rather shall his day's hard journey
+Soundly invite him , his two chamberlains
+Will I with wine and wassail so convince
+That memory , the warder of the brain ,
+Shall be a fume , and the receipt of reason
+A limbeck only ; when in swinish sleep
+Their drenched natures lie , as in a death ,
+What cannot you and I perform upon
+The unguarded Duncan ? what not put upon
+His spongy officers , who shall bear the guilt
+Of our great quell ?
+
+Bring forth men-children only ;
+For thy undaunted mettle should compose
+Nothing but males . Will it not be receiv'd ,
+When we have mark'd with blood those sleepy two
+Of his own chamber and us'd their very daggers ,
+That they have done't ?
+
+Who dares receive it other ,
+As we shall make our griefs and clamour roar
+Upon his death ?
+
+I am settled , and bend up
+Each corporal agent to this terrible feat .
+Away , and mock the time with fairest show :
+False face must hide what the false heart doth know .
+
+How goes the night , boy ?
+
+The moon is down ; I have not heard the clock .
+
+And she goes down at twelve .
+
+I take't , 'tis later , sir .
+
+Hold , take my sword . There's husbandry in heaven ;
+Their candles are all out . Take thee that too .
+A heavy summons lies like lead upon me ,
+And yet I would not sleep : merciful powers !
+Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature
+Gives way to in repose .
+
+
+Give me my sword .
+
+Who's there ?
+
+A friend .
+
+What , sir ! not yet at rest ? The king's a-bed :
+He hath been in unusual pleasure , and
+Sent forth great largess to your offices .
+This diamond he greets your wife withal ,
+By the name of most kind hostess ; and shut up
+In measureless content .
+
+Being unprepar'd ,
+Our will became the servant to defect ,
+Which else should free have wrought .
+
+All's well .
+I dreamt last night of the three weird sisters :
+To you they have show'd some truth .
+
+I think not of them :
+Yet , when we can entreat an hour to serve ,
+We would spend it in some words upon that business ,
+If you would grant the time .
+
+At your kind'st leisure .
+
+If you shall cleave to my consent , when 'tis ,
+It shall make honour for you .
+
+So I lose none
+In seeking to augment it , but still keep
+My bosom franchis'd and allegiance clear ,
+I shall be counsell'd .
+
+Good repose the while !
+
+Thanks , sir : the like to you .
+
+
+Go bid thy mistress , when my drink is ready
+She strike upon the bell . Get thee to bed .
+
+Is this a dagger which I see before me ,
+The handle toward my hand ? Come , let me clutch thee :
+I have thee not , and yet I see thee still .
+Art thou not , fatal vision , sensible
+To feeling as to sight ? or art thou but
+A dagger of the mind , a false creation ,
+Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain ?
+I see thee yet , in form as palpable
+As this which now I draw .
+Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going ;
+And such an instrument I was to use .
+Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses ,
+Or else worth all the rest : I see thee still ;
+And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood ,
+Which was not so before . There's no such thing :
+It is the bloody business which informs
+Thus to mine eyes . Now o'er the one half-world
+Nature seems dead , and wicked dreams abuse
+The curtain'd sleep ; witchcraft celebrates
+Pale Hecate's offerings ; and wither'd murder ,
+Alarum'd by his sentinel , the wolf ,
+Whose howl's his watch , thus with his stealthy pace ,
+With Tarquin's ravishing strides , toward his design
+Moves like a ghost . Thou sure and firm-set earth ,
+Hear not my steps , which way they walk , for fear
+Thy very stones prate of my whereabout ,
+And take the present horror from the time ,
+Which now suits with it . Whiles I threat he lives :
+Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives .
+
+I go , and it is done ; the bell invites me .
+Hear it not , Duncan ; for it is a knell
+That summons thee to heaven or to hell .
+
+
+That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold ,
+What hath quench'd them hath given me fire . Hark !
+Peace !
+It was the owl that shriek'd , the fatal bellman ,
+Which gives the stern'st good-night . He is about it :
+The doors are open , and the surfeited grooms
+Do mock their charge with snores : I have drugg'd their possets ,
+That death and nature do contend about them ,
+Whether they live or die .
+
+Who's there ? what , ho !
+
+Alack ! I am afraid they have awak'd ,
+And 'tis not done ; the attempt and not the deed
+Confounds us . Hark ! I laid their daggers ready ;
+He could not miss them . Had he not resembled
+My father as he slept I had done 't . My husband !
+
+
+I have done the deed . Didst thou not hear a noise ?
+
+I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry .
+Did not you speak ?
+
+When ?
+
+Now .
+
+As I descended ?
+
+Ay .
+
+Hark !
+Who lies i' the second chamber ?
+
+Donalbain .
+
+This is a sorry sight .
+
+A foolish thought to say a sorry sight .
+
+There's one did laugh in 's sleep , and one cried 'Murder !'
+That they did wake each other : I stood and heard them ;
+But they did say their prayers , and address'd them
+Again to sleep .
+
+There are two lodg'd together .
+
+One cried 'God bless us !' and 'Amen' the other :
+As they had seen me with these hangman's hands .
+Listening their fear , I could not say 'Amen ,'
+When they did say 'God bless us !'
+
+Consider it not so deeply .
+
+But wherefore could not I pronounce 'Amen ?'
+I had most need of blessing , and 'Amen'
+Stuck in my throat .
+
+These deeds must not be thought
+After these ways ; so , it will make us mad .
+
+Methought I heard a voice cry 'Sleep no more !
+Macbeth does murder sleep ,' the innocent sleep ,
+Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care ,
+The death of each day's life , sore labour's bath ,
+Balm of hurt minds , great nature's second course ,
+Chief nourisher in life's feast ,
+
+What do you mean ?
+
+Still it cried , 'Sleep no more !' to all the house :
+'Glamis hath murder'd sleep , and therefore Cawdor
+Shall sleep no more , Macbeth shall sleep no more !'
+
+Who was it that thus cried ? Why , worthy thane ,
+You do unbend your noble strength to think
+So brainsickly of things . Go get some water ,
+And wash this filthy witness from your hand .
+Why did you bring these daggers from the place ?
+They must lie there : go carry them , and smear
+The sleepy grooms with blood .
+
+I'll go no more :
+I am afraid to think what I have done ;
+Look on 't again I dare not .
+
+Infirm of purpose !
+Give me the daggers . The sleeping and the dead
+Are but as pictures ; 'tis the eye of childhood
+That fears a painted devil . If he do bleed ,
+I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal ;
+For it must seem their guilt .
+
+
+Whence is that knocking ?
+How is't with me , when every noise appals me ?
+What hands are here ! Ha ! they pluck out mine eyes .
+Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood
+Clean from my hand ? No , this my hand will rather
+The multitudinous seas incarnadine ,
+Making the green one red .
+
+
+My hands are of your colour , but I shame
+To wear a heart so white .
+
+I hear a knocking
+At the south entry ; retire we to our chamber ;
+A little water clears us of this deed ;
+How easy is it , then ! Your constancy
+Hath left you unattended .
+
+Hark ! more knocking .
+Get on your night-gown , lest occasion call us ,
+And show us to be watchers . Be not lost
+So poorly in your thoughts .
+
+To know my deed 'twere best not know myself .
+
+Wake Duncan with thy knocking ! I would thou couldst !
+
+
+Here's a knocking , indeed ! If a man were porter of hell-gate he should have old turning the key .
+
+Knock , knock , knock ! Who's there , i' the name of Beelzebub ? Here's a farmer that hanged himself on the expectation of plenty : come in time ; have napkins enough about you ; here you'll sweat for 't . [Knocking within .] Knock , knock ! Who's there i' the other devil's name ! Faith , here's an equivocator , that could swear in both the scales against either scale ; who committed treason enough for God's sake , yet could not equivocate to heaven : O ! come in , equivocator . [Knocking within .] Knock , knock , knock ! Who's there ? Faith , here's an English tailor come hither for stealing out of a French hose : come in , tailor ; here you may roast your goose . [Knocking within .] Knock , knock ; never at quiet ! What are you ? But this place is too cold for hell . I'll devil-porter it no further : I had thought to have let in some of all professions , that go the primrose way to the everlasting bonfire . [Knocking within .] Anon , anon ! I pray you , remember the porter .
+
+Was it so late , friend , ere you went to bed ,
+That you do lie so late ?
+
+Faith , sir , we were carousing till the second cock ; and drink , sir , is a great provoker of three things .
+
+What three things does drink especially provoke ?
+
+Marry , sir , mose-painting , sleep , and urine . Lechery , sir , it provokes , and unprovokes ; it provokes the desire , but it takes away the performance . Therefore much drink may be said to be an equivocator with lechery ; it makes him , and it mars him ; it sets him on , and it takes him off ; it persuades him , and disheartens him ; makes him stand to , and not stand to ; in conclusion , equivocates him in a sleep , and , giving him the lie , leaves him .
+
+I believe drink gave thee the lie last night .
+
+That it did , sir , i' the very throat o' me : but I requited him for his lie ; and , I think , being too strong for him , though he took up my legs sometime , yet I made a shift to cast him .
+
+Is thy master stirring ?
+
+Our knocking has awak'd him ; here he comes .
+
+Good morrow , noble sir .
+
+Good morrow , both .
+
+Is the king stirring , worthy thane ?
+
+Not yet .
+
+He did command me to call timely on him :
+I have almost slipp'd the hour .
+
+I'll bring you to him .
+
+I know this is a joyful trouble to you ;
+But yet 'tis one .
+
+The labour we delight in physics pain .
+This is the door .
+
+I'll make so bold to call ,
+For 'tis my limited service .
+
+
+Goes the king hence to-day ?
+
+He does : he did appoint so .
+
+The night has been unruly : where we lay ,
+Ourchimneys were blown down ; and , as they say ,
+Lamentings heard i' the air ; strange screams of death ,
+And prophesying with accents terrible
+Of dire combustion and confus'd events
+New hatch'd to the woeful time . The obscure bird
+Clamour'd the livelong night : some say the earth
+Was feverous and did shake .
+
+'Twas a rough night .
+
+My young remembrance cannot parallel
+A fellow to it .
+
+
+O horror ! horror ! horror ! Tongue nor heart
+Cannot conceive nor name thee !
+
+What's the matter ?
+
+What's the matter ?
+
+Confusion now hath made his masterpiece !
+Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope
+The Lord's anointed temple , and stole thence
+The life o' the building !
+
+What is 't you say ? the life ?
+
+Mean you his majesty ?
+
+Approach the chamber , and destroy your sight
+With a new Gorgon : do not bid me speak ;
+See , and then speak yourselves .
+
+Awake ! awake !
+Ring the alarum-bell . Murder and treason !
+Banquo and Donalbain ! Malcolm ! awake !
+Shake off this downy sleep , death's counterfeit ,
+And look on death itself ! up , up , and see
+The great doom's image ! Malcolm ! Banquo !
+As from your graves rise up , and walk like sprites ,
+To countenance this horror ! Ring the bell .
+
+What's the business ,
+That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley
+The sleepers of the house ? speak , speak !
+
+O gentle lady !
+'Tis not for you to hear what I can speak ;
+The repetition in a woman's ear
+Would murder as it fell .
+
+
+O Banquo ! Banquo !
+
+Our royal master's murder'd !
+
+Woe , alas !
+What ! in our house ?
+
+Too cruel any where .
+Dear Duff , I prithee , contradict thyself ,
+And say it is not so .
+
+
+Had I but died an hour before this chance
+I had liv'd a blessed time ; for , from this instant ,
+There's nothing serious in mortality ,
+All is but toys ; renown and grace is dead ,
+The wine of life is drawn , and the mere lees
+Is left this vault to brag of .
+
+
+What is amiss ?
+
+You are , and do not know 't :
+The spring , the head , the fountain of your blood
+Is stopp'd ; the very source of it is stopp'd .
+
+Your royal father's murder'd .
+
+O ! by whom ?
+
+Those of his chamber , as it seem'd , had done 't :
+Their hands and faces were all badg'd with blood ;
+So were their daggers , which unwip'd we found
+Upon their pillows : they star'd , and were distracted ; no man's life
+Was to be trusted with them .
+
+O ! yet I do repent me of my fury ,
+That I did kill them .
+
+Wherefore did you so ?
+
+Who can be wise , amaz'd , temperate and furious ,
+Loyal and neutral , in a moment ? No man :
+The expedition of my violent love
+Outran the pauser , reason . Here lay Duncan ,
+His silver skin lac'd with his golden blood ;
+And his gash'd stabs look'd like a breach in nature
+For ruin's wasteful entrance : there , the murderers ,
+Steep'd in the colours of their trade , their daggers
+Unmannerly breech'd with gore : who could refrain ,
+That had a heart to love , and in that heart
+Courage to make 's love known ?
+
+Help me hence , ho !
+
+Look to the lady .
+
+Why do we hold our tongues ,
+That most may claim this argument for ours :
+
+What should be spoken
+Here where our fate , hid in an auger-hole ,
+May rush and seize us ? Let's away : our tears
+Are not yet brew'd .
+
+Nor our strong sorrow
+Upon the foot of motion .
+
+Look to the lady :
+
+And when we have our naked frailties hid ,
+That suffer in exposure , let us meet ,
+And question this most bloody piece of work ,
+To know it further . Fears and scruples shake us :
+In the great hand of God I stand , and thence
+Against the undivulg'd pretence I fight
+Of treasonous malice .
+
+And so do I .
+
+So all .
+
+Let's briefly put on manly readiness ,
+And meet i' the hall together .
+
+Well contented .
+
+
+What will you do ? Let's not consort with them :
+To show an unfelt sorrow is an office
+Which the false man does easy . I'll to England .
+
+To Ireland , I ; our separated fortune
+Shall keep us both the safer : where we are ,
+There's daggers in men's smiles : the near in blood ,
+The nearer bloody .
+
+This murderous shaft that's shot
+Hath not yet lighted , and our safest way
+Is to avoid the aim : therefore , to horse ;
+And let us not be dainty of leave-taking ,
+But shift away : there's warrant in that theft
+Which steals itself when there's no mercy left .
+
+
+Threescore and ten I can remember well ;
+Within the volume of which time I have seen
+Hours dreadful and things strange , but this sore night
+Hath trifled former knowings .
+
+Ah ! good father ,
+Thou seest , the heavens , as troubled with man's act ,
+Threaten his bloody stage : by the clock 'tis day ,
+And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp .
+Is 't night's predominance , or the day's shame ,
+That darkness does the face of earth entomb ,
+When living light should kiss it ?
+
+'Tis unnatural ,
+Even like the deed that's done . On Tuesday last ,
+A falcon , towering in her pride of place ,
+Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at and kill'd .
+
+And Duncan's horses ,a thing most strange and certain ,
+Beauteous and swift , the minions of their race ,
+Turn'd wild in nature , broke their stalls , flung out ,
+Contending 'gainst obedience , as they would
+Make war with mankind .
+
+'Tis said they eat each other .
+
+They did so ; to the amazement of mine eyes ,
+That look'd upon 't . Here comes the good Macduff .
+
+How goes the world , sir , now ?
+
+Why , see you not ?
+
+Is 't known who did this more than bloody deed ?
+
+Those that Macbeth hath slain .
+
+Alas , the day !
+What good could they pretend ?
+
+They were suborn'd .
+Malcolm and Donalbain , the king's two sons ,
+Are stol'n away and fled , which puts upon them
+Suspicion of the deed .
+
+'Gainst nature still !
+Thriftless ambition , that wilt ravin up
+Thine own life's means ! Then 'tis most like
+The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth .
+
+He is already nam'd , and gone to Scone
+To be invested .
+
+Where is Duncan's body ?
+
+Carried to Colmekill ;
+The sacred storehouse of his predecessors
+And guardian of their bones .
+
+Will you to Scone ?
+
+No , cousin , I'll to Fife .
+
+Well , I will thither .
+
+Well , may you see things well done there : adieu !
+Lest our old robes sit easier than our new !
+
+Farewell , father .
+
+God's benison go with you ; and with those
+That would make good of bad , and friends of foes !
+
+Thou hast it now : King , Cawdor , Glamis , all ,
+As the weird women promis'd ; and , I fear ,
+Thou play'dst most foully for 't ; yet it was said
+It should not stand in thy posterity ,
+But that myself should be the root and father
+Of many kings . If there come truth from them ,
+As upon thee , Macbeth , their speeches shine ,
+Why , by the verities on thee made good ,
+May they not be my oracles as well ,
+And set me up in hope ? But , hush ! no more .
+
+Here's our chief guest .
+
+If he had been forgotten
+It had been as a gap in our great feast ,
+And all-thing unbecoming .
+
+To-night we hold a solemn supper , sir ,
+And I'll request your presence .
+
+Let your highness
+Command upon me ; to the which my duties
+Are with a most indissoluble tie
+For ever knit .
+
+Ride you this afternoon ?
+
+Ay , my good lord .
+
+We should have else desir'd your good advice
+Which still hath been both grave and prosperous
+In this day's council ; but we'll take to-morrow .
+Is 't far you ride ?
+
+As far , my lord , as will fill up the time
+'Twixt this and supper ; go not my horse the better ,
+I must become a borrower of the night
+For a dark hour or twain .
+
+Fail not our feast .
+
+My lord , I will not .
+
+We hear our bloody cousins are bestow'd
+In England and in Ireland , not confessing
+Their cruel parricide , filling their hearers
+With strange invention ; but of that to-morrow ,
+When therewithal we shall have cause of state
+Craving us jointly . Hie you to horse ; adieu
+Till you return at night . Goes Fleance with you ?
+
+Ay , my good lord : our time does call upon 's .
+
+I wish your horses swift and sure of foot ;
+And so I do commend you to their backs .
+Farewell .
+
+Let every man be master of his time
+Till seven at night ; to make society
+The sweeter welcome , we will keep ourself
+Till supper-time alone ; while then , God be with you !
+
+Sirrah , a word with you . Attend those men
+Our pleasure ?
+
+They are , my lord , without the palace gate .
+
+Bring them before us .
+
+To be thus is nothing ;
+But to be safely thus . Our fears in Banquo
+Stick deep , and in his royalty of nature
+Reigns that which would be fear'd : 'tis much he dares ,
+And , to that dauntless temper of his mind ,
+He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valour
+To act in safety . There is none but he
+Whose being I do fear ; and under him
+My genius is rebuk'd , as it is said
+Mark Antony's was by C sar . He chid the sisters
+When first they put the name of king upon me ,
+And bade them speak to him ; then , prophet-like ,
+They hail'd him father to a line of kings .
+Upon my head they plac'd a fruitless crown ,
+And put a barren sceptre in my gripe ,
+Thence to be wrench'd with an unlineal hand ,
+No son of mine succeeding . If 't be so ,
+For Banquo's issue have I fil'd my mind ;
+For them the gracious Duncan have I murder'd ;
+Put rancours in the vessel of my peace
+Only for them ; and mine eternal jewel
+Given to the common enemy of man ,
+To make them kings , the seed of Banquo kings !
+Rather than so , come fate into the list ,
+And champion me to the utterance ! Who's there ?
+
+
+Now go to the door , and stay there till we call .
+
+
+Was it not yesterday we spoke together ?
+
+It was , so please your highness .
+
+Well then , now
+Have you consider'd of my speeches ? Know
+That it was he in the times past which held you
+So under fortune , which you thought had been
+Our innocent self . This I made good to you
+In our last conference , pass'd in probation with you ,
+How you were borne in hand , how cross'd , the instruments ,
+Who wrought with them , and all things else that might
+To half a soul and to a notion craz'd
+Say , 'Thus did Banquo .'
+
+You made it known to us .
+
+I did so ; and went further , which is now
+Our point of second meeting . Do you find
+Your patience so predominant in your nature
+That you can let this go ? Are you so gospell'd
+To pray for this good man and for his issue ,
+Whose heavy hand hath bow'd you to the grave
+And beggar'd yours for ever ?
+
+We are men , my liege .
+
+Ay , in the catalogue ye go for men ;
+As hounds and greyhounds , mongrels , spaniels , curs ,
+Shoughs , water-rugs , and demi-wolves , are clept
+All by the name of dogs : the valu'd file
+Distinguishes the swift , the slow , the subtle ,
+The housekeeper , the hunter , every one
+According to the gift which bounteous nature
+Hath in him clos'd ; whereby he does receive
+Particular addition , from the bill
+That writes them all alike : and so of men .
+Now , if you have a station in the file ,
+Not i' the worst rank of manhood , say it ;
+And I will put that business in your bosoms ,
+Whose execution takes your enemy off ,
+Grapples you to the heart and love of us ,
+Who wear our health but sickly in his life ,
+Which in his death were perfect .
+
+I am one , my liege ,
+Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world
+Have so incens'd that I am reckless what
+I do to spite the world .
+
+And I another ,
+So weary with disasters , tugg'd with fortune ,
+That I would set my life on any chance ,
+To mend it or be rid on 't .
+
+Both of you
+Know Banquo was your enemy .
+
+True , my lord .
+
+So is he mine ; and in such bloody distance
+That every minute of his being thrusts
+Against my near'st of life : and though I could
+With bare-fac'd power sweep him from my sight
+And bid my will avouch it , yet I must not ,
+For certain friends that are both his and mine ,
+Whose loves I may not drop , but wail his fall
+Whom I myself struck down ; and thence it is
+That I to your assistance do make love ,
+Masking the business from the common eye
+For sundry weighty reasons .
+
+We shall , my lord ,
+Perform what you command us .
+
+Though our lives
+
+Your spirits shine through you . Within this hour at most
+I will advise you where to plant yourselves ,
+Acquaint you with the perfect spy o' the time ,
+The moment on 't ; for 't must be done to-night ,
+And something from the palace ; always thought
+That I require a clearness : and with him
+To leave no rubs nor botches in the work
+Fleance his son , that keeps him company ,
+Whose absence is no less material to me
+Than is his father's , must embrace the fate
+Of that dark hour . Resolve yourselves apart ;
+I'll come to you anon .
+
+We are resolv'd , my lord .
+
+I'll call upon you straight : abide within .
+
+It is concluded : Banquo , thy soul's flight ,
+If it find heaven , must find it out to-night .
+
+
+Is Banquo gone from court ?
+
+Ay , madam , but returns again to-night .
+
+Say to the king , I would attend his leisure
+For a few words .
+
+Madam , I will .
+
+
+Nought's had , all's spent ,
+Where our desire is got without content :
+'Tis safer to be that which we destroy
+Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy .
+
+
+How now , my lord ! why do you keep alone ,
+Of sorriest fancies your companions making ,
+Using those thoughts which should indeed have died
+With them they think on ? Things without all remedy
+
+Should be without regard : what's done is done .
+
+We have scotch'd the snake , not kill'd it :
+She'll close and be herself , whilst our poor malice
+Remains in danger of her former tooth .
+But let the frame of things disjoint , both the worlds suffer ,
+Ere we will eat our meal in fear , and sleep
+In the affliction of these terrible dreams
+That shake us nightly . Better be with the dead ,
+Whom we , to gain our peace , have sent to peace ,
+Than on the torture of the mind to lie
+In restless ecstasy . Duncan is in his grave ;
+After life's fitful fever he sleeps well ;
+Treason has done his worst : nor steel , nor poison ,
+Malice domestic , foreign levy , nothing
+Can touch him further .
+
+Come on ;
+Gentle my lord , sleek o'er your rugged looks ;
+Be bright and jovial among your guests to-night .
+
+So shall I , love ; and so , I pray , be you .
+Let your remembrance apply to Banquo ;
+Present him eminence , both with eye and tongue :
+Unsafe the while , that we
+Must lave our honours in these flattering streams ,
+And make our faces vizards to our hearts ,
+Disguising what they are .
+
+You must leave this .
+
+O ! full of scorpions is my mind , dear wife ;
+Thou know'st that Banquo and his Fleance lives .
+
+But in them nature's copy's not eterne .
+
+There's comfort yet ; they are assailable ;
+Then be thou jocund . Ere the bat hath flown
+His cloister'd flight , ere , to black Hecate's summons
+The shard-borne beetle with his drowsy hums
+Hath rung night's yawning peal , there shall be done
+A deed of dreadful note .
+
+What's to be done ?
+
+Be innocent of the knowledge , dearest chuck ,
+Till thou applaud the deed . Come , seeling night ,
+Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day ,
+And with thy bloody and invisible hand
+Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond
+Which keeps me pale ! Light thickens , and the crow
+Makes wing to the rooky wood ;
+Good things of day begin to droop and drowse ,
+Whiles night's black agents to their preys do rouse .
+Thou marvell'st at my words : but hold thee still ;
+Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill :
+So , prithee , go with me .
+
+
+But who did bid thee join with us ?
+
+Macbeth .
+
+He needs not our mistrust , since he delivers
+Our offices and what we have to do
+To the direction just .
+
+Then stand with us .
+The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day :
+Now spurs the lated traveller apace
+To gain the timely inn ; and near approaches
+The subject of our watch .
+
+Hark ! I hear horses .
+
+Give us a light there , ho !
+
+Then 'tis he : the rest
+That are within the note of expectation
+Already are i' the court .
+
+His horses go about .
+
+Almost a mile ; but he does usually ,
+So all men do , from hence to the palace gate
+Make it their walk .
+
+A light , a light !
+
+'Tis he .
+
+Stand to 't .
+
+
+It will be rain to-night .
+
+Let it come down .
+
+
+O , treachery ! Fly , good Fleance , fly , fly , fly !
+Thou mayst revenge . O slave !
+
+
+Who did strike out the light ?
+
+Was 't not the way ?
+
+There's but one down ; the son is fled .
+
+We have lost
+Best half of our affair .
+
+Well , let's away , and say how much is done .
+
+
+You know your own degrees ; sit down : at first and last ,
+The hearty welcome .
+
+Thanks to your majesty .
+
+Ourself will mingle with society
+And play the humble host .
+Our hostess keeps her state , but in best time
+We will require her welcome .
+
+Pronounce it for me , sir , to all our friends ;
+For my heart speaks they are welcome .
+
+
+See , they encounter thee with their hearts' thanks ;
+Both sides are even : here I'll sit i' the midst :
+Be large in mirth ; anon , we'll drink a measure
+The table round .
+
+There's blood upon thy face .
+
+'Tis Banquo's , then .
+
+'Tis better thee without than he within .
+Is he dispatch'd ?
+
+My lord , his throat is cut ; that I did for him .
+
+Thou art the best o' the cut-throats ; yet he's good
+That did the like for Fleance : if thou didst it ,
+Thou art the nonpareil .
+
+Most royal sir ,
+Fleance is 'scap'd .
+
+Then comes my fit again : I had else been perfect ;
+Whole as the marble , founded as the rock ,
+As broad and general as the casing air :
+But now I am cabin'd , cribb'd , confin'd , bound in
+To saucy doubts and fears . But Banquo's safe ?
+
+Ay , my good lord ; safe in a ditch he bides ,
+With twenty trenched gashes on his head ;
+The least a death to nature .
+
+Thanks for that .
+There the grown serpent lies : the worm that's fled
+Hath nature that in time will venom breed ,
+No teeth for the present . Get thee gone ; to-morrow
+We'll hear ourselves again .
+
+
+My royal lord ,
+You do not give the cheer : the feast is sold
+That is not often vouch'd , while 'tis a-making ,
+'Tis given with welcome : to feed were best at home ;
+From thence , the sauce to meat is ceremony ;
+Meeting were bare without it .
+
+Sweet remembrancer !
+Now good digestion wait on appetite ,
+And health on both !
+
+May it please your highness sit ?
+
+
+Here had we now our country's honour roof'd ,
+Were the grac'd person of our Banquo present ;
+Who may I rather challenge for unkindness
+Than pity for mischance !
+
+His absence , sir ,
+Lays blame upon his promise . Please 't your highness
+To grace us with your royal company .
+
+The table's full .
+
+Here is a place reserv'd , sir .
+
+Where ?
+
+Here , my good lord . What is 't that moves your highness ?
+
+Which of you have done this ?
+
+What , my good lord ?
+
+Thou canst not say I did it : never shake
+Thy gory locks at me .
+
+Gentlemen , rise ; his highness is not well .
+
+Sit , worthy friends : my lord is often thus ,
+And hath been from his youth : pray you , keep seat ;
+The fit is momentary ; upon a thought
+He will again be well . If much you note him
+You shall offend him and extend his passion :
+Feed and regard him not . Are you a man ?
+
+Ay , and a bold one , that dare look on that
+Which might appal the devil .
+
+O proper stuff !
+This is the very painting of your fear ;
+This is the air-drawn dagger which , you said ,
+Led you to Duncan . O ! these flaws and starts
+Impostors to true fear would well become
+A woman's story at a winter's fire ,
+Authoriz'd by her grandam . Shame itself !
+Why do you make such faces ? When all's done
+You look but on a stool .
+
+Prithee , see there ! behold ! look ! lo ! how say you ?
+Why , what care I ? If thou canst nod , speak too .
+If charnel-houses and our graves must send
+Those that we bury back , our monuments
+Shall be the maws of kites .
+
+
+What ! quite unmann'd in folly ?
+
+If I stand here , I saw him .
+
+Fie , for shame !
+
+Blood hath been shed ere now , i' the olden time ,
+Ere human statute purg'd the gentle weal ;
+Ay , and since too , murders have been perform'd
+Too terrible for the ear : the times have been ,
+That , when the brains were out , the man would die ,
+
+And there an end ; but now they rise again ,
+With twenty mortal murders on their crowns ,
+And push us from our stools : this is more strange
+Than such a murder is .
+
+My worthy lord ,
+Your noble friends do lack you .
+
+I do forget .
+Do not muse at me , my most worthy friends ;
+I have a strange infirmity , which is nothing
+To those that know me . Come , love and health to all ;
+Then , I'll sit down . Give me some wine ; fill full .
+I drink to the general joy of the whole table ,
+And to our dear friend Banquo , whom we miss ;
+Would he were here ! to all , and him , we thirst ,
+And all to all .
+
+Our duties , and the pledge .
+
+
+Avaunt ! and quit my sight ! Let the earth hide thee !
+Thy bones are marrowless , thy blood is cold ;
+Thou hast no speculation in those eyes
+Which thou dost glare with .
+
+Think of this , good peers ,
+But as a thing of custom : 'tis no other ;
+Only it spoils the pleasure of the time .
+
+What man dare , I dare :
+Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear ,
+The arm'd rhinoceros , or the Hyrcan tiger ;
+Take any shape but that , and my firm nerves
+Shall never tremble : or be alive again ,
+And dare me to the desart with thy sword ;
+If trembling I inhabit then , protest me
+The baby of a girl . Hence , horrible shadow !
+Unreal mockery , hence !
+
+Why , so ; being gone ,
+I am a man again . Pray you , sit still .
+
+You have displac'd the mirth , broke the good meeting ,
+With most admir'd disorder .
+
+Can such things be
+And overcome us like a summer's cloud ,
+Without our special wonder ? You make me strange
+Even to the disposition that I owe ,
+When now I think you can behold such sights ,
+And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks ,
+When mine are blanch'd with fear .
+
+What sights , my lord ?
+
+I pray you , speak not ; he grows worse and worse ;
+Question enrages him . At once , good-night :
+Stand not upon the order of your going ,
+But go at once .
+
+Good-night ; and better health
+Attend his majesty !
+
+A kind good-night to all !
+
+
+It will have blood , they say ; blood will have blood :
+Stones have been known to move and trees to speak ;
+Augurs and understood relations have
+By maggot-pies and choughs and rooks brought forth
+The secret'st man of blood . What is the night ?
+
+Almost at odds with morning , which is which .
+
+How sayst thou , that Macduff denies his person
+At our great bidding ?
+
+Did you send to him , sir ?
+
+I hear it by the way ; but I will send .
+There's not a one of them but in his house
+I keep a servant fee'd . I will to-morrow
+And betimes I will to the weird sisters :
+More shall they speak ; for now I am bent to know ,
+By the worst means , the worst . For mine own good
+All causes shall give way : I am in blood
+Stepp'd in so far , that , should I wade no more ,
+Returning were as tedious as go o'er .
+Strange things I have in head that will to hand ,
+Which must be acted ere they may be scann'd .
+
+You lack the season of all natures , sleep .
+
+Come , we'll to sleep . My strange and self-abuse
+Is the initiate fear that wants hard use :
+We are yet but young in deed .
+
+
+Why , how now , Hecate ! you look angerly .
+
+Have I not reason , beldams as you are ,
+Saucy and overbold ? How did you dare
+To trade and traffic with Macbeth
+In riddles and affairs of death ;
+And I , the mistress of your charms ,
+The close contriver of all harms ,
+Was never call'd to bear my part ,
+Or show the glory of our art ?
+And , which is worse , all you have done
+Hath been but for a wayward son ,
+Spiteful and wrathful ; who , as others do ,
+Loves for his own ends , not for you .
+But make amends now : get you gone ,
+And at the pit of Acheron
+Meet me i' the morning : thither he
+Will come to know his destiny :
+Your vessels and your spells provide ,
+Your charms and every thing beside .
+I am for the air ; this night I'll spend
+Unto a dismal and a fatal end :
+Great business must be wrought ere noon :
+Upon the corner of the moon
+There hangs a vaporous drop profound ;
+I'll catch it ere it come to ground :
+And that distill'd by magic sleights
+Shall raise such artificial sprites
+As by the strength of their illusion
+Shall draw him on to his confusion :
+He shall spurn fate , scorn death , and bear
+His hopes 'bove wisdom , grace , and fear ;
+And you all know security
+Is mortals' chiefest enemy .
+
+Hark ! I am call'd ; my little spirit , see ,
+Sits in a foggy cloud , and stays for me .
+
+
+Come , let's make haste ; she'll soon be back again .
+
+
+My former speeches have but hit your thoughts ,
+Which can interpret further : only , I say ,
+Things have been strangely borne . The gracious Duncan
+Was pitied of Macbeth : marry , he was dead :
+And the right-valiant Banquo walk'd too late ;
+Whom , you may say , if 't please you , Fleance kill'd ,
+For Fleance fled : men must not walk too late .
+Who cannot want the thought how monstrous
+It was for Malcolm and for Donalbain
+To kill their gracious father ? damned fact !
+How it did grieve Macbeth ! did he not straight
+In pious rage the two delinquents tear ,
+That were the slaves of drink and thralls of sleep ?
+Was not that nobly done ? Ay , and wisely too ;
+For 'twould have anger'd any heart alive
+To hear the men deny 't . So that , I say ,
+He has borne all things well ; and I do think
+That , had he Duncan's sons under his key ,
+As , an 't please heaven , he shall not ,they should find
+What 'twere to kill a father ; so should Fleance .
+But , peace ! for from broad words , and 'cause he fail'd .
+His presence at the tyrant's feast , I hear ,
+Macduff lives in disgrace . Sir , can you tell
+Where he bestows himself ?
+
+The son of Duncan ,
+From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth ,
+Lives in the English court , and is receiv'd
+Of the most pious Edward with such grace
+That the malevolence of fortune nothing
+Takes from his high respect . Thither Macduff
+Is gone to pray the holy king , upon his aid
+To wake Northumberland and war-like Siward :
+That , by the help of these with him above
+To ratify the work we may again
+Give to our tables meat , sleep to our nights ,
+Free from our feasts and banquets bloody knives ,
+Do faithful homage and receive free honours ;
+All which we pine for now . And this report
+Hath so exasperate the king that he
+Prepares for some attempt at war .
+
+Sent he to Macduff ?
+
+He did : and with an absolute , 'Sir , not I ,'
+The cloudy messenger turns me his back ,
+And hums , as who should say , 'You'll rue the time
+That clogs me with this answer .'
+
+And that well might
+Advise him to a caution to hold what distance
+His wisdom can provide . Some holy angel
+Fly to the court of England and unfold
+His message ere he come , that a swift blessing
+May soon return to this our suffering country
+Under a hand accurs'd !
+
+I'll send my prayers with him !
+
+Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd .
+
+Thrice and once the hedge-pig whin'd .
+
+Harper cries : 'Tis time , 'tis time .
+
+
+Round about the cauldron go ,
+In the poison'd entrails throw .
+Toad , that under cold stone
+Days and nights hast thirty-one
+Swelter'd venom sleeping got ,
+Boil thou first i' the charmed pot .
+
+Double , double toil and trouble ;
+Fire burn and cauldron bubble .
+
+Fillet of a fenny snake ,
+In the cauldron boil and bake ;
+Eye of newt , and toe of frog ,
+Wool of bat , and tongue of dog ,
+Adder's fork , and blind-worm's sting ,
+Lizard's leg , and howlet's wing ,
+For a charm of powerful trouble ,
+Like a hell-broth boil and bubble .
+
+Double , double toil and trouble ;
+Fire burn and cauldron bubble .
+
+Scale of dragon , tooth of wolf ,
+Witches' mummy , maw and gulf
+Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark ,
+Root of hemlock digg'd i' the dark ,
+Liver of blaspheming Jew ,
+Gall of goat , and slips of yew
+Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse ,
+Nose of Turk , and Tartar's lips ,
+Finger of birth-strangled babe
+Ditch-deliver'd by a drab ,
+Make the gruel thick and slab :
+Add thereto a tiger's chaudron ,
+For the ingredients of our cauldron .
+
+Double , double toil and trouble ;
+Fire burn and cauldron bubble .
+
+Cool it with a baboon's blood ,
+Then the charm is firm and good .
+
+
+O ! well done ! I commend your pains ,
+And every one shall share i' the gains .
+And now about the cauldron sing ,
+Like elves and fairies in a ring ,
+Enchanting all that you put in .
+
+
+By the pricking of my thumbs ,
+Something wicked this way comes .
+Open , locks ,
+Whoever knocks .
+
+How now , you secret , black , and mid-night hags !
+What is 't you do ?
+
+A deed without a name .
+
+I conjure you , by that which you profess ,
+Howe'er you come to know it ,answer me :
+Though you untie the winds and let them fight
+Against the churches ; though the yesty waves
+Confound and swallow navigation up ;
+Though bladed corn be lodg'd and trees blown down ;
+Though castles topple on their warders' heads ;
+Though palaces and pyramids do slope
+Their heads to their foundations ; though the treasure
+Of Nature's germens tumble all together ,
+Even till destruction sicken ; answer me
+To what I ask you .
+
+Speak .
+
+Demand .
+
+We'll answer .
+
+Say if thou'dst rather hear it from our mouths ,
+Or from our masters' ?
+
+Call 'em : let me see 'em .
+
+
+Pour in sow's blood , that hath eaten
+Her nine farrow ; grease , that's sweaten
+From the murderer's gibbet throw
+Into the flame .
+
+Come , high or low ;
+Thyself and office deftly show .
+
+Tell me , thou unknown power ,
+
+He knows thy thought :
+Hear his speech , but say thou nought .
+
+Macbeth ! Macbeth ! Macbeth ! beware Macduff ;
+Beware the Thane of Fife . Dismiss me . Enough .
+
+
+Whate'er thou art , for thy good caution thanks ;
+Thou hast harp'd my fear aright . But one word more ,
+
+He will not be commanded : here's another ,
+More potent than the first .
+
+
+Macbeth ! Macbeth ! Macbeth !
+
+Had I three ears , I'd hear thee .
+
+Be bloody , bold , and resolute ; laugh to scorn
+The power of man , for none of woman born
+Shall harm Macbeth .
+
+Then live , Macduff : what need I fear of thee ?
+But yet I'll make assurance double sure ,
+And take a bond of fate : thou shalt not live ;
+That I may tell pale-hearted fear it lies ,
+And sleep in spite of thunder .
+
+What is this ,
+That rises like the issue of a king ,
+And wears upon his baby brow the round
+
+And top of sovereignty ?
+
+Listen , but speak not to 't .
+
+Be lion-mettled , proud , and take no care
+Who chafes , who frets or where conspirers are :
+Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be until
+Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill
+Shall come against him .
+
+
+That will never be :
+Who can impress the forest , bid the tree
+Unfix his earth-bound root ? Sweet bodements ! good !
+Rebellion's head , rise never till the wood
+Of Birnam rise , and our high-plac'd Macbeth
+Shall live the lease of nature , pay his breath
+To time and mortal custom . Yet my heart
+Throbs to know one thing : tell me if your art
+Can tell so much ,shall Banquo's issue ever
+Reign in this kingdom ?
+
+Seek to know no more .
+
+I will be satisfied : deny me this ,
+And an eternal curse fall on you ! Let me know .
+Why sinks that cauldron ? and what noise is this ?
+
+
+Show !
+
+Show !
+
+Show !
+
+Show his eyes , and grieve his heart ;
+Come like shadows , so depart .
+
+
+Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo ; down !
+Thy crown does sear mine eyeballs : and thy hair ,
+Thou other gold-bound brow , is like the first :
+A third is like the former . Filthy hags !
+Why do you show me this ? A fourth ! Start , eyes !
+What ! will the line stretch out to the crack of doom ?
+Another yet ? A seventh ! I'll see no more :
+And yet the eighth appears , who bears a glass
+Which shows me many more ; and some I see
+That two-fold balls and treble sceptres carry .
+Horrible sight ! Now , I see , 'tis true ;
+For the blood-bolter'd Banquo smiles upon me ,
+And points at them for his .
+
+What ! is this so ?
+
+Ay , sir , all this is so : but why
+Stands Macbeth thus amazedly ?
+Come , sisters , cheer we up his sprites ,
+And show the best of our delights .
+I'll charm the air to give a sound ,
+While you perform your antick round ,
+That this great king may kindly say ,
+Our duties did his welcome pay .
+
+
+Where are they ? Gone ? Let this pernicious hour
+Stand aye accursed in the calendar !
+Come in , without there !
+
+
+What's your Grace's will ?
+
+Saw you the weird sisters ?
+
+No , my lord .
+
+Came they not by you ?
+
+No indeed , my lord .
+
+Infected be the air whereon they ride ,
+And damn'd all those that trust them ! I did hear
+The galloping of horse : who was 't came by ?
+
+'Tis two or three , my lord , that bring you word
+Macduff is fled to England .
+
+Fled to England !
+
+Ay , my good lord .
+
+Time , thou anticipat'st my dread exploits ;
+The flighty purpose never is o'ertook
+Unless the deed go with it ; from this moment
+The very firstlings of my heart shall be
+The firstlings of my hand . And even now ,
+To crown my thoughts with acts , be it thought and done :
+The castle of Macduff I will surprise ;
+Seize upon Fife ; give to the edge of the sword
+His wife , his babes , and all unfortunate souls
+That trace him in his line . No boasting like a fool ;
+This deed I'll do , before this purpose cool :
+But no moresights ! Where are these gentlemen ?
+Come , bring me where they are .
+
+
+What had he done to make him fly the land ?
+
+You must have patience , madam .
+
+He had none :
+His flight was madness : when our actions do not ,
+Our fears do make us traitors .
+
+You know not
+Whether it was his wisdom or his fear .
+
+Wisdom ! to leave his wife , to leave his babes ,
+His mansion and his titles in a place
+From whence himself does fly ? He loves us not ;
+He wants the natural touch ; for the poor wren ,
+The most diminutive of birds , will fight
+Her young ones in her nest against the owl .
+All is the fear and nothing is the love ;
+As little is the wisdom , where the flight
+So runs against all reason .
+
+My dearest coz ,
+I pray you , school yourself : but , for your husband ,
+He is noble , wise , judicious , and best knows
+The fits o' the season . I dare not speak much further :
+But cruel are the times , when we are traitors
+And do not know ourselves , when we hold rumour
+From what we fear , yet know not what we fear ,
+But float upon a wild and violent sea
+Each way and move . I take my leave of you :
+Shall not be long but I'll be here again .
+Things at the worst will cease , or else climb upward
+To what they were before . My pretty cousin ,
+Blessing upon you !
+
+Father'd he is , and yet he's fatherless .
+
+I am so much a fool , should I stay longer ,
+It would be my disgrace , and your discomfort :
+I take my leave at once .
+
+
+Sirrah , your father's dead :
+And what will you do now ? How will you live ?
+
+As birds do , mother .
+
+What ! with worms and flies ?
+
+With what I get , I mean ; and so do they .
+
+Poor bird ! thou'dst never fear the net nor lime ,
+The pit-fall nor the gin .
+
+Why should I , mother ? Poor birds they are not set for .
+My father is not dead , for all your saying .
+
+Yes , he is dead : how wilt thou do for a father ?
+
+Nay , how will you do for a husband ?
+
+Why , I can buy me twenty at any market .
+
+Then you'll buy 'em to sell again .
+
+Thou speak'st with all thy wit ; and yet , i' faith ,
+With wit enough for thee .
+
+Was my father a traitor , mother ?
+
+Ay , that he was .
+
+What is a traitor ?
+
+Why , one that swears and lies .
+
+And be all traitors that do so ?
+
+Every one that does so is a traitor , and must be hanged .
+
+And must they all be hanged that swear and lie ?
+
+Every one .
+
+Who must hang them ?
+
+Why , the honest men .
+
+Then the liars and swearers are fools , for there are liars and swearers enow to beat the honest men , and hang up them .
+
+Now God help thee , poor monkey !
+But how wilt thou do for a father ?
+
+If he were dead , you'd weep for him : if you would not , it were a good sign that I should quickly have a new father .
+
+Poor prattler , how thou talk'st !
+
+
+Bless you , fair dame ! I am not to you known ,
+Though in your state of honour I am perfect .
+I doubt some danger does approach you nearly :
+If you will take a homely man's advice ,
+Be not found here ; hence , with your little ones .
+To fright you thus , methinks , I am too savage ;
+To do worse to you were fell cruelty ,
+Which is too nigh your person . Heaven preserve you !
+I dare abide no longer .
+
+
+Whither should I fly ?
+I have done no harm . But I remember now
+I am in this earthly world , where , to do harm
+Is often laudable , to do good sometime
+Accounted dangerous folly ; why then , alas !
+Do I put up that womanly defence ,
+To say I have done no harm ?
+
+What are these faces ?
+
+Where is your husband ?
+
+I hope in no place so unsanctified
+Where such as thou mayst find him .
+
+He's a traitor .
+
+Thou liest , thou shag-hair'd villain .
+
+What ! you egg .
+Young fry of treachery !
+
+
+He has killed me , mother :
+Run away , I pray you !
+
+Let us seek out some desolate shade , and there
+Weep our sad bosoms empty .
+
+Let us rather
+Hold fast the mortal sword , and like good men
+Bestride our down-fall'n birthdom ; each new morn
+New widowshowl , new orphans cry , new sorrows
+Strike heaven on the face , that it resounds
+As if it felt with Scotland and yell'd out
+Like syllable of dolour .
+
+What I believe I'll wail ,
+What know believe , and what I can redress ,
+As I shall find the time to friend , I will .
+What you have spoke , it may be so perchance .
+This tyrant , whosesole name blisters our tongues ,
+Was once thought honest : you have lov'd him well ;
+He hath not touch'd you yet . I am young ; but something
+You may deserve of him through me , and wisdom
+To offer up a weak , poor , innocent lamb
+To appease an angry god .
+
+I am not treacherous .
+
+But Macbeth is .
+A good and virtuous nature may recoil
+In an imperial charge . But I shall crave your pardon ;
+That which you are my thoughts cannot transpose ;
+Angels are bright still , though the brightest fell ;
+Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace ,
+Yet grace must still look so .
+
+I have lost my hopes .
+
+Perchance even there where I did find my doubts .
+Why in that rawness left you wife and child
+Those precious motives , those strong knots of love
+Without leave-taking ? I pray you ,
+Let not my jealousies be your dishonours ,
+But mine own safeties : you may be rightly just ,
+Whatever I shall think .
+
+Bleed , bleed , poor country !
+Great tyranny , lay thou thy basis sure ,
+For goodness dares not check thee ! wear thou thy wrongs ;
+The title is affeer'd ! Fare thee well , lord :
+I would not be the villain that thou think'st
+For the whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp ,
+And the rich East to boot .
+
+Be not offended :
+I speak not as in absolute fear of you .
+I think our country sinks beneath the yoke ;
+It weeps , it bleeds , and each new day a gash
+Is added to her wounds : I think withal ,
+There would be hands uplifted in my right ;
+And here from gracious England have I offer
+Of goodly thousands : but , for all this ,
+When I shall tread upon the tyrant's head ,
+Or wear it on my sword , yet my poor country
+Shall have more vices than it had before ,
+More suffer , and more sundry ways than ever ,
+By him that shall succeed .
+
+What should he be ?
+
+It is myself I mean ; in whom I know
+All the particulars of vice so grafted ,
+That , when they shall be open'd , black Macbeth
+Will seem as pure as snow , and the poor state
+Esteem him as a lamb , being compar'd
+With my confineless harms .
+
+Not in the legions
+Of horrid hell can come a devil more damn'd
+In evils to top Macbeth .
+
+I grant him bloody ,
+Luxurious , avaricious , false , deceitful ,
+Sudden , malicious , smacking of every sin
+That has a name ; but there's no bottom , none ,
+In my voluptuousness : your wives , your daughters ,
+Your matrons , and your maids , could not fill up
+The cistern of my lust ; and my desire
+All continent impediments would o'erbear
+That did oppose my will ; better Macbeth
+Than such an one to reign .
+
+Boundless intemperance
+In nature is a tyranny ; it hath been
+Th' untimely emptying of the happy throne ,
+And fall of many kings . But fear not yet
+To take upon you what is yours ; you may
+Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty ,
+And yet seem cold , the time you may so hoodwink .
+We have willing dames enough ; there cannot be
+That vulture in you , to devour so many
+As will to greatness dedicate themselves ,
+Finding it so inclin'd .
+
+With this there grows
+In my most ill-compos'd affection such
+A stanchless avarice that , were I king ,
+I should cut off the nobles for their lands ,
+Desire his jewels and this other's house ;
+And my more-having would be as a sauce
+To make me hunger more , that I should forge
+Quarrels unjust against the good and loyal ,
+Destroying them for wealth .
+
+This avarice
+Sticks deeper , grows with more pernicious root
+Than summer-seeming lust , and it hath been
+The sword of our slain kings : yet do not fear ;
+Scotland hath foisons to fill up your will ,
+Of your mere own ; all these are portable ,
+With other graces weigh'd .
+
+But I have none : the king-becoming graces ,
+As justice , verity , temperance , stableness ,
+Bounty , perseverance , mercy , lowliness ,
+Devotion , patience , courage , fortitude ,
+I have no relish of them , but abound
+In the division of each several crime ,
+Acting it many ways . Nay , had I power , I should
+Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell ,
+Uproar the universal peace , confound
+All unity on earth .
+
+O Scotland , Scotland !
+
+If such a one be fit to govern , speak :
+I am as I have spoken .
+
+Fit to govern !
+No , not to live . O nation miserable ,
+With an untitled tyrant bloody-scepter'd ,
+When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again ,
+Since that the truest issue of thy throne
+By his own interdiction stands accurs'd ,
+And does blaspheme his breed ? Thy royal father
+Was a most sainted king ; the queen that bore thee ,
+Oft'ner upon her knees than on her feet ,
+Died every day she liv'd . Fare thee well !
+These evils thou repeat'st upon thyself
+Have banish'd me from Scotland . O my breast ,
+Thy hope ends here !
+
+Macduff , this noble passion ,
+Child of integrity , hath from my soul
+Wip'd the black scruples , reconcil'd my thoughts
+To thy good truth and honour . Devilish Macbeth
+By many of these trains hath sought to win me
+Into his power , and modest wisdom plucks me
+From over-credulous haste ; but God above
+Deal between thee and me ! for even now
+I put myself to thy direction , and
+Unspeak mine own detraction , here abjure
+The taints and blames I laid upon myself ,
+For strangers to my nature . I am yet
+Unknown to woman , never was forsworn ,
+Scarcely have coveted what was mine own ;
+At no time broke my faith , would not betray
+The devil to his fellow , and delight
+No less in truth than life ; my first false speaking
+Was this upon myself . What I am truly ,
+Is thine and my poor country's to command ;
+Whither indeed , before thy here-approach ,
+Old Siward , with ten thousand war-like men ,
+Already at a point , was setting forth .
+Now we'll together , and the chance of goodness
+Be like our warranted quarrel . Why are you silent ?
+
+Such welcome and unwelcome things at once
+'Tis hard to reconcile .
+
+
+Well ; more anon . Comes the king forth , I pray you ?
+
+Ay , sir ; there are a crew of wretched souls
+That stay his cure ; their malady convinces
+The great assay of art ; but , at his touch ,
+Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand ,
+They presently amend .
+
+I thank you , doctor .
+
+
+What's the disease he means ?
+
+'Tis call'd the evil :
+A most miraculous work in this good king ,
+Which often , since my here-remain in England ,
+I have seen him do . How he solicits heaven ,
+Himself best knows ; but strangely-visited people ,
+All swoln and ulcerous , pitiful to the eye ,
+The mere despair of surgery , he cures ;
+Hanging a golden stamp about their necks ,
+Put on with holy prayers ; and 'tis spoken
+To the succeeding royalty he leaves
+The healing benediction . With this strange virtue ,
+He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy ,
+And sundry blessings hang about his throne
+That speak him full of grace .
+
+See , who comes here ?
+
+My countryman ; but yet I know him not .
+
+
+My ever-gentle cousin , welcome hither .
+
+I know him now . Good God , betimes remove
+The means that make us strangers !
+
+Sir , amen .
+
+Stands Scotland where it did ?
+
+Alas ! poor country ;
+Almost afraid to know itself . It cannot
+Be call'd our mother , but our grave ; where nothing ,
+But who knows nothing , is once seen to smile ;
+Where sighs and groans and shrieks that rent the air
+Are made , not mark'd ; where violent sorrow seems
+A modern ecstasy ; the dead man's knell
+Is there scarce ask'd for who ; and good men's lives
+Expire before the flowers in their caps ,
+Dying or ere they sicken .
+
+O ! relation
+Too nice , and yet too true !
+
+What's the newest grief ?
+
+That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker ;
+Each minute teems a new one .
+
+How does my wife ?
+
+Why , well .
+
+And all my children ?
+
+Well too .
+
+The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace ?
+
+No ; they were well at peace when I did leave 'em .
+
+Be not a niggard of your speech : how goes 't ?
+
+When I came hither to transport the tidings ,
+Which I have heavily borne , there ran a rumour
+Of many worthy fellows that were out ;
+Which was to my belief witness'd the rather
+For that I saw the tyrant's power a-foot .
+Now is the time of help ; your eye in Scotland
+Would create soldiers , make our women fight ,
+To doff their dire distresses .
+
+Be 't their comfort ,
+We are coming thither . Gracious England hath
+Lent us good Siward and ten thousand men ;
+An older and a better soldier none
+That Christendom gives out .
+
+Would I could answer
+This comfort with the like ! But I have words
+That would be howl'd out in the desert air ,
+Where hearing should not latch them .
+
+What concern they ?
+The general cause ? or is it a fee-grief
+Due to some single breast ?
+
+No mind that's honest
+But in it shares some woe , though the main part
+Pertains to you alone .
+
+If it be mine
+Keep it not from me ; quickly let me have it .
+
+Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever ,
+Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound
+That ever yet they heard .
+
+Hum ! I guess at it .
+
+Your castle is surpris'd ; your wife and babes
+Savagely slaughter'd ; to relate the manner ,
+Were , on the quarry of these murder'd deer ,
+To add the death of you .
+
+Merciful heaven !
+What ! man ; ne'er pull your hat upon your brows ;
+Give sorrow words ; the grief that does not speak
+Whispers the o'er-fraught heart and bids it break .
+
+My children too ?
+
+Wife , children , servants , all
+That could be found .
+
+And I must be from thence !
+My wife kill'd too ?
+
+I have said .
+
+Be comforted :
+Let's make us medicine of our great revenge ,
+To cure this deadly grief .
+
+He has no children . All my pretty ones ?
+Did you say all ? O hell-kite ! All ?
+What ! all my pretty chickens and their dam
+At one fell swoop ?
+
+Dispute it like a man .
+
+I shall do so ;
+But I must also feel it as a man :
+I cannot but remember such things were ,
+That were most precious to me . Did heaven look on ,
+And would not take their part ? Sinful Macduff !
+They were all struck for thee . Naught that I am ,
+Not for their own demerits , but for mine ,
+Fell slaughter on their souls . Heaven rest them now !
+
+Be this the whetstone of your sword : let grief
+Convert to anger ; blunt not the heart , enrage it .
+
+O ! I could play the woman with mine eyes ,
+And braggart with my tongue . But , gentle heavens ,
+Cut short all intermission ; front to front
+Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself ;
+Within my sword's length set him ; if he 'scape ,
+Heaven forgive him too !
+
+This tune goes manly .
+Come , go we to the king ; our power is ready ;
+Our lack is nothing but our leave . Macbeth
+Is ripe for shaking , and the powers above
+Put on their instruments . Receive what cheer you may ;
+The night is long that never finds the day .
+
+I have two nights watched with you , but can perceive no truth in your report . When was it she last walked ?
+
+Since his majesty went into the field , I have seen her rise from her bed , throw her night-gown upon her , unlock her closet , take forth paper , fold it , write upon 't , read it , afterwards seal it , and again return to bed ; yet all this while in a most fast sleep .
+
+A great perturbation in nature , to receive at once the benefit of sleep and do the effects of watching ! In this slumbery agitation , besides her walking and other actual performances , what , at any time , have you heard her say ?
+
+That , sir , which I will not report after her .
+
+You may to me , and 'tis most meet you should .
+
+Neither to you nor any one , having no witness to confirm my speech .
+
+Lo you ! here she comes . This is her very guise ; and , upon my life , fast asleep . Observe her ; stand close .
+
+How came she by that light ?
+
+Why , it stood by her : she has light by her continually ; 'tis her command .
+
+You see , her eyes are open .
+
+Ay , but their sense is shut .
+
+What is it she does now ? Look , how she rubs her hands .
+
+It is an accustomed action with her , to seem thus washing her hands . I have known her to continue in this a quarter of an hour .
+
+Yet here's a spot .
+
+Hark ! she speaks . I will set down what comes from her , to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly .
+
+Out , damned spot ! out , I say ! One ; two : why , then , 'tis time to do't . Hell is murky ! Fie , my lord , fie ! a soldier , and afeard ? What need we fear who knows it , when none can call our power to account ? Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him ?
+
+Do you mark that ?
+
+The Thane of Fife had a wife : where is she now ? What ! will these hands ne'er be clean ? No more o' that , my lord , no more o' that : you mar all with this starting .
+
+Go to , go to ; you have known what you should not .
+
+She has spoke what she should not , I am sure of that : Heaven knows what she has known .
+
+Here's the smell of the blood still : all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand . Oh ! oh ! oh !
+
+What a sigh is there ! The heart is sorely charged .
+
+I would not have such a heart in my bosom for the dignity of the whole body .
+
+Well , well , well .
+
+Pray God it be , sir .
+
+This disease is beyond my practice : yet I have known those which have walked in their sleep who have died holily in their beds .
+
+Wash your hands , put on your night-gown ; look not so pale . I tell you yet again , Banquo's buried ; he cannot come out on 's grave .
+
+Even so ?
+
+To bed , to bed : there's knocking at the gate . Come , come , come , come , give me your hand . What's done cannot be undone .
+To bed , to bed , to bed .
+
+
+Will she go now to bed ?
+
+Directly .
+
+Foul whisperings are abroad . Unnatural deeds
+Do breed unnatural troubles ; infected minds
+To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets ;
+More needs she the divine than the physician .
+God , God forgive us all ! Look after her ;
+Remove from her the means of all annoyance ,
+And still keep eyes upon her . So , good-night :
+My mind she has mated , and amaz'd my sight .
+I think , but dare not speak .
+
+Good-night , good doctor .
+
+
+The English power is near , led on by Malcolm ,
+His uncle Siward , and the good Macduff .
+Revenges burn in them ; for their dear causes
+Would to the bleeding and the grim alarm
+Excite the mortified man .
+
+Near Birnam wood
+Shall we well meet them ; that way are they coming .
+
+Who knows if Donalbain be with his brother ?
+
+For certain , sir , he is not : I have a file
+Of all the gentry : there is Siward's son ,
+And many unrough youths that even now
+Protest their first of manhood .
+
+What does the tyrant ?
+
+Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies .
+Some say he's mad ; others that lesser hate him
+Do call it valiant fury ; but , for certain ,
+He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause
+Within the belt of rule .
+
+Now does he feel
+His secret murders sticking on his hands ;
+Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach ;
+Those he commands move only in command ,
+Nothing in love ; now does he feel his title
+Hang loose about him , like a giant's robe
+Upon a dwarfish thief .
+
+Who then shall blame
+His pester'd senses to recoil and start ,
+When all that is within him does condemn
+Itself for being there ?
+
+Well , march we on ,
+To give obedience where 'tis truly ow'd ;
+Meet we the medicine of the sickly weal ,
+And with him pour we in our country's purge
+Each drop of us .
+
+Or so much as it needs
+To dew the sovereign flower and drown the weeds .
+Make we our march towards Birnam .
+
+
+Bring me no more reports ; let them fly all :
+Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane
+I cannot taint with fear . What's the boy Malcolm ?
+Was he not born of woman ? The spirits that know
+All mortal consequences have pronounc'd me thus :
+'Fear not , Macbeth ; no man that's born of woman
+Shall e'er have power upon thee .' Then fly , false thanes ,
+And mingle with the English epicures :
+The mind I sway by and the heart I bear
+Shall never sag with doubt nor shake with fear .
+
+
+The devil damn thee black , thou cream-fac'd loon !
+
+Where gott'st thou that goose look ?
+
+There is ten thousand
+
+Geese , villain ?
+
+Soldiers , sir .
+
+Go , prick thy face , and over-red thy fear ,
+Thou lily-liver'd boy . What soldiers , patch ?
+Death of thy soul ! those linen cheeks of thine
+Are counsellors to fear . What soldiers , wheyface ?
+
+The English force , so please you .
+
+Take thy face hence .
+
+Seyton !I am sick at heart
+When I behold Seyton , I say !This push
+Will cheer me ever or disseat me now .
+I have liv'd long enough : my way of life
+Is fall'n into the sear , the yellow leaf ;
+And that which should accompany old age ,
+As honour , love , obedience , troops of friends ,
+I must not look to have ; but , in their stead ,
+Curses , not loud but deep , mouth-honour , breath ,
+Which the poor heart would fain deny , and dare not .
+Seyton !
+
+
+What is your gracious pleasure ?
+
+What news more ?
+
+All is confirm'd , my lord , which was reported .
+
+I'll fight till from my bones my flesh be hack'd .
+Give me my armour .
+
+'Tis not needed yet .
+
+I'll put it on .
+Send out more horses , skirr the country round ;
+Hang those that talk of fear . Give me mine armour .
+How does your patient , doctor ?
+
+Not so sick , my lord ,
+As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies ,
+That keep her from her rest .
+
+Cure her of that :
+Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd ,
+Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow ,
+Raze out the written troubles of the brain ,
+And with some sweet oblivious antidote
+Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff
+Which weighs upon the heart ?
+
+Therein the patient
+Must minister to himself .
+
+Throw physic to the dogs ; I'll none of it .
+Come , put mine armour on ; give me my staff .
+Seyton , send out .Doctor , the thanes fly from me .
+Come , sir , dispatch .If thou couldst , doctor , cast
+The water of my land , find her disease ,
+And purge it to a sound and pristine health ,
+I would applaud thee to the very echo ,
+That should applaud again .Pull 't off , I say .
+What rhubarb , senna , or what purgative drug
+Would scour these English hence ? Hear'st thou of them ?
+
+Ay , my good lord ; your royal preparation
+Makes us hear something .
+
+Bring it after me .
+I will not be afraid of death and bane
+Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane .
+
+Were I from Dunsinane away and clear ,
+Profit again should hardly draw me here .
+
+Cousins , I hope the days are near at hand
+That chambers will be safe .
+
+We doubt it nothing .
+
+What wood is this before us ?
+
+The wood of Birnam .
+
+Let every soldier hew him down a bough
+And bear 't before him : thereby shall we shadow
+The numbers of our host , and make discovery
+Err in report of us .
+
+It shall be done .
+
+We learn no other but the confident tyrant
+Keeps still in Dunsinane , and will endure
+Our setting down before 't .
+
+'Tis his main hope ;
+For where there is advantage to be given ,
+Both more and less have given him the revolt ,
+And none serve with him but constrained things
+Whose hearts are absent too .
+
+Let our just censures
+Attend the true event , and put we on
+Industrious soldiership .
+
+The time approaches
+That will with due decision make us know
+What we shall say we have and what we owe .
+Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate ,
+But certain issue strokes must arbitrate ,
+Towards which advance the war .
+
+
+Hang out our banners on the outward walls ;
+The cry is still , 'They come ;' our castle's strength
+Will laugh a siege to scorn ; here let them lie
+Till famine and the ague eat them up ;
+Were they not forc'd with those that should be ours ,
+We might have met them dareful , beard to beard ,
+And beat them backward home .
+
+What is that noise ?
+
+It is the cry of women , my good lord .
+
+
+I have almost forgot the taste of fears .
+The time has been my senses would have cool'd
+To hear a night-shriek , and my fell of hair
+Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir
+As life were in 't . I have supp'd full with horrors ;
+Direness , familiar to my slaughterous thoughts ,
+Cannot once start me .
+
+Wherefore was that cry ?
+
+The queen , my lord , is dead .
+
+She should have died hereafter ;
+There would have been a time for such a word .
+To-morrow , and to-morrow , and to-morrow ,
+Creeps in this petty pace from day to day ,
+To the last syllable of recorded time ;
+And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
+The way to dusty death . Out , out , brief candle !
+Life's but a walking shadow , a poor player
+That struts and frets his hour upon the stage ,
+And then is heard no more ; it is a tale
+Told by an idiot , full of sound and fury ,
+Signifying nothing .
+
+Thou com'st to use thy tongue ; thy story quickly .
+
+Gracious my lord ,
+I should report that which I say I saw ,
+But know not how to do it .
+
+Well , say , sir .
+
+As I did stand my watch upon the hill ,
+I look'd towards Birnam , and anon , methought ,
+The wood began to move .
+
+Liar and slave !
+
+Let me endure your wrath if't be not so :
+Within this three mile may you see it coming ;
+I say , a moving grove .
+
+If thou speak'st false ,
+Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive ,
+Till famine cling thee ; if thy speech be sooth ,
+I care not if thou dost for me as much .
+I pull in resolution and begin
+To doubt the equivocation of the fiend
+That lies like truth ; 'Fear not , till Birnam wood
+Do come to Dunsinane ;' and now a wood
+Comes toward Dunsinane . Arm , arm , and out !
+If this which he avouches does appear ,
+There is nor flying hence , nor tarrying here .
+I 'gin to be aweary of the sun ,
+And wish the estate o' the world were now undone .
+Ring the alarum-bell ! Blow , wind ! come , wrack !
+At least we'll die with harness on our back .
+
+
+Now near enough ; your leavy screens throw down ,
+And show like those you are . You , worthy uncle ,
+Shall , with my cousin , your right-noble son ,
+Lead our first battle ; worthy Macduff and we
+Shall take upon 's what else remains to do ,
+According to our order .
+
+Fare you well .
+Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night ,
+Let us be beaten , if we cannot fight .
+
+Make all our trumpets speak ; give them all breath ,
+Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death .
+
+
+They have tied me to a stake ; I cannot fly ,
+But bear-like I must fight the course . What's he
+That was not born of woman ? Such a one
+Am I to fear , or none .
+
+
+What is thy name ?
+
+Thou'lt be afraid to hear it .
+
+No ; though thou call'st thyself a hotter name
+Than any is in hell .
+
+My name's Macbeth .
+
+The devil himself could not pronounce a title
+More hateful to mine ear .
+
+No , nor more fearful .
+
+Thou liest , abhorred tyrant ; with my sword
+I'll prove the lie thou speak'st .
+
+
+Thou wast born of woman :
+But swords I smile at , weapons laugh to scorn ,
+Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born .
+
+That way the noise is . Tyrant , show thy face :
+If thou be'st slain and with no stroke of mine ,
+My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still .
+I cannot strike at wretched kerns , whose arms
+Are hir'd to bear their staves : either thou , Macbeth ,
+Or else my sword with an unbatter'd edge
+I sheathe again undeeded . There thou shouldst be ;
+By this great clatter , one of greatest note
+Seems bruited . Let me find him , fortune !
+And more I beg not .
+
+This way , my lord ; the castle's gently render'd :
+The tyrant's people on both sides do fight ;
+The noble thanes do bravely in the war ;
+The day almost itself professes yours ,
+And little is to do .
+
+We have met with foes
+That strike beside us .
+
+Enter , sir , the castle .
+
+Why should I play the Roman fool , and die
+On mine own sword ? whiles I see lives , the gashes
+Do better upon them .
+
+
+Turn , hell-hound , turn !
+
+Of all men else I have avoided thee :
+But get thee back , my soul is too much charg'd
+With blood of thine already .
+
+I have no words ;
+My voice is in my sword , thou bloodier villain
+Than terms can give thee out !
+
+
+Thou losest labour :
+As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air
+With thy keen sword impress as make me bleed :
+Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests ;
+I bear a charmed life , which must not yield
+To one of woman born .
+
+Despair thy charm ;
+And let the angel whom thou still hast serv'd
+Tell thee , Macduff was from his mother's womb
+Untimely ripp'd .
+
+Accursed be that tongue that tells me so ,
+For it hath cow'd my better part of man :
+And be these juggling fiends no more believ'd ,
+That palter with us in a double sense ;
+That keep the word of promise to our ear ,
+And break it to our hope . I'll not fight with thee .
+
+Then yield thee , coward ,
+And live to be the show and gaze o' the time :
+We'll have thee , as our rarer monsters are ,
+Painted upon a pole , and underwrit ,
+'Here may you see the tyrant .'
+
+I will not yield ,
+To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet ,
+And to be baited with the rabble's curse .
+Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane ,
+And thou oppos'd , being of no woman born ,
+Yet I will try the last : before my body
+I throw my war-like shield . Lay on , Macduff ,
+And damn'd be him that first cries , 'Hold , enough !'
+
+
+I would the friends we miss were safe arriv'd .
+
+Some must go off ; and yet , by these I see ,
+So great a day as this is cheaply bought .
+
+Macduff is missing , and your noble son .
+
+Your son , my lord , has paid a soldier's debt :
+He only liv'd but till he was a man ;
+The which no sooner had his prowess confirm'd
+In the unshrinking station where he fought ,
+But like a man he died .
+
+Then he is dead ?
+
+Ay , and brought off the field . Your cause of sorrow
+Must not be measur'd by his worth , for then
+It hath no end .
+
+Had he his hurts before ?
+
+Ay , on the front .
+
+Why then , God's soldier be he !
+Had I as many sons as I have hairs ,
+I would not wish them to a fairer death :
+And so , his knell is knoll'd .
+
+He's worth more sorrow ,
+And that I'll spend for him .
+
+He's worth no more ;
+They say , he parted well , and paid his score :
+And so , God be with him ! Here comes newer comfort .
+
+
+Hail , king ! for so thou art . Behold , where stands
+The usurper's cursed head : the time is free :
+I see thee compass'd with thy kingdom's pearl ,
+That speak my salutation in their minds ;
+Whose voices I desire aloud with mine ;
+Hail , King of Scotland !
+
+Hail , King of Scotland !
+
+
+We shall not spend a large expense of time
+Before we reckon with your several loves ,
+And make us even with you . My thanes and kinsmen ,
+Henceforth be earls , the first that ever Scotland
+In such an honour nam'd . What's more to do ,
+Which would be planted newly with the time ,
+As calling home our exil'd friends abroad
+That fled the snares of watchful tyranny ;
+Producing forth the cruel ministers
+Of this dead butcher and his fiend-like queen ,
+Who , as 'tis thought , by self and violent hands
+Took off her life ; this , and what needful else
+That calls upon us , by the grace of Grace
+We will perform in measure , time , and place :
+So , thanks to all at once and to each one ,
+Whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone .
+
+OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE
+
+Tush ! Never tell me ; I take it much unkindly
+That thou , Iago , who hast had my purse
+As if the strings were thine , shouldst know of this .
+
+'Sblood , but you will not hear me :
+If ever I did dream of such a matter ,
+Abhor me .
+
+Thou told'st me thou didst hold him in thy hate .
+
+Despise me if I do not . Three great ones of the city ,
+In personal suit to make me his lieutenant ,
+Off-capp'd to him ; and , by the faith of man .
+I know my price , I am worth no worse a place ;
+But he , as loving his own pride and purposes ,
+Evades them , with a bombast circumstance
+Horribly stuff'd with epithets of war ;
+And , in conclusion ,
+Nonsuits my mediators ; for , 'Certes ,' says he ,
+'I have already chose my officer .'
+And what was he ?
+Forsooth , a great arithmetician ,
+One Michael Cassio , a Florentine ,
+A fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife ;
+That never set a squadron in the field ,
+Nor the division of a battle knows
+More than a spinster ; unless the bookish theoric ,
+Wherein the toged consuls can propose
+As masterly as he : mere prattle , without practice ,
+Is all his soldiership . But he , sir , had the election ;
+And I of whom his eyes had seen the proof
+At Rhodes , at Cyprus , and on other grounds
+Christian and heathen must be be-lee'd and calm'd
+By debitor and creditor ; this counter caster ,
+He , in good time , must his lieutenant be ,
+And I God bless the mark !his Moorship's ancient .
+
+By heaven , I rather would have been his hangman .
+
+Why , there's no remedy : 'tis the curse of the service ,
+Preferment goes by letter and affection ,
+Not by the old gradation , where each second
+Stood heir to the first . Now , sir , be judge yourself ,
+Whe'r I in any just term am affin'd
+To love the Moor .
+
+I would not follow him then .
+
+O ! sir , content you ;
+I follow him to serve my turn upon him ;
+We cannot all be masters , nor all masters
+Cannot be truly follow'd . You shall mark
+Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave ,
+That , doting on his own obsequious bondage ,
+Wears out his time , much like his master's ass ,
+For nought but provender , and when he's old , cashier'd ;
+Whip me such honest knaves . Others there are
+Who , trimm'd in forms and visages of duty ,
+Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves ,
+And , throwing but shows of service on their lords ,
+Do well thrive by them , and when they have lin'd their coats
+Do themselves homage : these fellows have some soul ;
+And such a one do I profess myself . For , sir ,
+It is as sure as you are Roderigo ,
+Were I the Moor , I would not be Iago :
+In following him , I follow but myself ;
+Heaven is my judge , not I for love and duty ,
+But seeming so , for my peculiar end :
+For when my outward action doth demonstrate
+The native act and figure of my heart
+In compliment extern , 'tis not long after
+But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
+For daws to peck at : I am not what I am .
+
+What a full fortune does the thick-lips owe ,
+If he can carry 't thus !
+
+Call up her father ;
+Rouse him , make after him , poison his delight ,
+Proclaim him in the streets , incense her kinsmen ,
+And , though he in a fertile climate dwell ,
+Plague him with flies ; though that his joy be joy ,
+Yet throw such changes of vexation on 't
+As it may lose some colour .
+
+Here is her father's house ; I'll call aloud .
+
+Do ; with like timorous accent and dire yell
+As when , by night and negligence , the fire
+Is spied in populous cities .
+
+What , ho ! Brabantio ! Signior Brabantio , ho !
+
+Awake ! what , ho ! Brabantio ! thieves ! thieves ! thieves !
+Look to your house , your daughter , and your bags !
+Thieves ! thieves !
+
+
+What is the reason of this terrible summons ?
+What is the matter there ?
+
+Signior , is all your family within ?
+
+Are your doors lock'd ?
+
+Why ? wherefore ask you this ?
+
+'Zounds ! sir , you're robb'd ; for shame , put on your gown ;
+Your heart is burst , you have lost half your soul ;
+Even now , now , very now , an old black ram
+Is tupping your white ewe . Arise , arise !
+Awake the snorting citizens with the bell ,
+Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you .
+Arise , I say .
+
+What ! have you lost your wits ?
+
+Most reverend signior , do you know my voice ?
+
+Not I , what are you ?
+
+My name is Roderigo .
+
+The worser welcome :
+I have charg'd thee not to haunt about my doors :
+In honest plainness thou hast heard me say
+My daughter is not for thee ; and now , in madness ,
+Being full of supper and distempering draughts ,
+Upon malicious knavery dost thou come
+To start my quiet .
+
+Sir , sir , sir !
+
+But thou must needs be sure
+My spirit and my place have in them power
+To make this bitter to thee .
+
+Patience , good sir .
+
+What tell'st thou me of robbing ? this is Venice ;
+My house is not a grange .
+
+Most grave Brabantio ,
+In simple and pure soul I come to you .
+
+'Zounds ! sir , you are one of those that will not serve God if the devil bid you . Because we come to do you service and you think we are ruffians , you'll have your daughter covered with a Barbary horse ; you'll have your nephews neigh to you ; you'll have coursers for cousins and gennets for germans .
+
+What profane wretch art thou ?
+
+I am one , sir , that comes to tell you , your daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs .
+
+Thou art a villain .
+
+You are a senator .
+
+This thou shalt answer ; I know thee , Roderigo .
+
+Sir , I will answer any thing . But , I beseech you ,
+If 't be your pleasure and most wise consent ,
+As partly , I find , it is ,that your fair daughter ,
+At this odd-even and dull-watch o' the night ,
+Transported with no worse nor better guard
+But with a knave of common hire , a gondolier ,
+To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor ,
+If this be known to you , and your allowance ,
+We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs ;
+But if you know not this , my manners tell me
+We have your wrong rebuke . Do not believe ,
+That , from the sense of all civility ,
+I thus would play and trifle with your reverence :
+Your daughter , if you have not given her leave ,
+I say again , hath made a gross revolt ;
+Tying her duty , beauty , wit and fortunes
+In an extravagant and wheeling stranger
+Of here and every where . Straight satisfy yourself :
+If she be in her chamber or your house ,
+Let loose on me the justice of the state
+For thus deluding you .
+
+Strike on the tinder , ho !
+Give me a taper ! call up all my people !
+This accident is not unlike my dream ;
+Belief of it oppresses me already .
+Light , I say ! light !
+
+
+Farewell , for I must leave you :
+It seems not meet nor wholesome to my place
+To be produc'd , as , if I stay , I shall ,
+Against the Moor ; for , I do know the state ,
+However this may gall him with some check ,
+Cannot with safety cast him ; for he's embark'd
+With such loud reason to the Cyprus wars ,
+Which even now stand in act ,that , for their souls ,
+Another of his fathom they have none ,
+To lead their business ; in which regard ,
+Though I do hate him as I do hell-pains ,
+Yet , for necessity of present life ,
+I must show out a flag and sign of love ,
+Which is indeed but sign . That you shall surely find him ,
+Lead to the Sagittary the raised search ;
+And there will I be with him . So , farewell .
+
+It is too true an evil : gone she is ,
+And what's to come of my despised time
+Is nought but bitterness . Now , Roderigo ,
+Where didst thou see her ? O , unhappy girl !
+With the Moor , sayst thou ? Who would be a father !
+How didst thou know 'twas she ? O , she deceives me
+Past thought . What said she to you ? Get more tapers !
+Raise all my kindred ! Are they married , think you ?
+
+Truly , I think they are .
+
+O heaven ! How got she out ? O , treason of the blood :
+Fathers , from hence trust not your daughters' minds
+By what you see them act . Are there not charms
+By which the property of youth and maidhood
+May be abus'd ? Have you not read , Roderigo ,
+Of some such thing ?
+
+Yes , sir , I have indeed .
+
+Call up my brother . O ! that you had had her .
+Some one way , some another ! Do you know
+Where we may apprehend her and the Moor ?
+
+I think I can discover him , if you please
+To get good guard and go along with me .
+
+Pray you , lead on . At every house I'll call ;
+I may command at most . Get weapons , ho !
+And raise some special officers of night .
+On , good Roderigo ; I'll deserve your pains .
+
+
+Though in the trade of war I have slain men ,
+Yet do I hold it very stuff o' the conscience
+To do no contriv'd murder : I lack iniquity
+Sometimes to do me service . Nine or ten times
+I had thought to have yerk'd him here under the ribs .
+
+'Tis better as it is .
+
+Nay , but he prated ,
+And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms
+Against your honour
+That , with the little godliness I have ,
+I did full hard forbear him . But , I pray , sir ,
+Are you fast married ? Be assur'd of this ,
+That the magnifico is much belov'd ,
+And hath in his effect a voice potential
+As double as the duke's ; he will divorce you ,
+Or put upon you what restraint and grievance
+The law with all his might to enforce it on
+Will give him cable .
+
+Let him do his spite :
+My services which I have done the signiory
+Shall out-tongue his complaints . 'Tis yet to know ,
+Which when I know that boasting is an honour
+I shall promulgate , I fetch my life and being
+From men of royal siege , and my demerits
+May speak unbonneted to as proud a fortune
+As this that I have reach'd ; for know , Iago ,
+But that I love the gentle Desdemona ,
+I would not my unhoused free condition
+Put into circumscription and confine
+For the sea's worth . But , look ! what lights come yond ?
+
+Those are the raised father and his friends :
+You were best go in .
+
+Not I ; I must be found :
+My parts , my title , and my perfect soul
+Shall manifest me rightly . Is it they ?
+
+By Janus , I think no .
+
+
+The servants of the duke , and my lieutenant .
+The goodness of the night upon you , friends !
+What is the news ?
+
+The duke does greet you , general ,
+And he requires your haste-post-haste appearance ,
+Even on the instant .
+
+What is the matter , think you ?
+
+Something from Cyprus , as I may divine .
+It is a business of some heat ; the galleys
+Have sent a dozen sequent messengers
+This very night at one another's heels ,
+And many of the consuls , rais'd and met ,
+Are at the duke's already . You have been hotly call'd for ;
+When , being not at your lodging to be found ,
+The senate hath sent about three several quests
+To search you out .
+
+'Tis well I am found by you .
+I will but spend a word here in the house ,
+And go with you .
+
+
+Ancient , what makes he here ?
+
+Faith , he to-night hath boarded a land carrack ;
+If it prove lawful prize , he's made for ever .
+
+I do not understand .
+
+He's married .
+
+To who ?
+
+
+Marry , to Come , captain , will you go ?
+
+Have with you .
+
+Here comes another troop to seek for you .
+
+It is Brabantio . General , be advis'd ;
+He comes to bad intent .
+
+
+Holla ! stand there !
+
+Signior , it is the Moor .
+
+Down with him , thief !
+
+
+You , Roderigo ! come , sir , I am for you .
+
+Keep up your bright swords , for the dew will rust them .
+Good signior , you shall more command with years
+Than with your weapons .
+
+O thou foul thief ! where hast thou stow'd my daughter ?
+Damn'd as thou art , thou hast enchanted her ;
+For I'll refer me to all things of sense ,
+If she in chains of magic were not bound ,
+Whether a maid so tender , fair , and happy ,
+So opposite to marriage that she shunn'd
+The wealthy curled darlings of our nation ,
+Would ever have , to incur a general mock ,
+Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom
+Of such a thing as thou ; to fear , not to delight .
+Judge me the world , if 'tis not gross in sense
+That thou hast practis'd on her with foul charms ,
+Abus'd her delicate youth with drugs or minerals
+That weaken motion : I'll have 't disputed on ;
+'Tis probable , and palpable to thinking .
+I therefore apprehend and do attach thee
+For an abuser of the world , a practiser
+Of arts inhibited and out of warrant .
+Lay hold upon him : if he do resist ,
+Subdue him at his peril .
+
+Hold your hands ,
+Both you of my inclining , and the rest :
+Were it my cue to fight , I should have known it
+Without a prompter . Where will you that I go
+To answer this your charge ?
+
+To prison ; till fit time
+Of law and course of direct session
+Call thee to answer .
+
+What if I do obey ?
+How may the duke be therewith satisfied ,
+Whose messengers are here about my side ,
+Upon some present business of the state
+To bring me to him ?
+
+'Tis true , most worthy signior ;
+The duke's in council , and your noble self ,
+I am sure , is sent for .
+
+How ! the duke in council !
+In this time of the night ! Bring him away .
+Mine's not an idle cause : the duke himself ,
+Or any of my brothers of the state ,
+Cannot but feel this wrong as 'twere their own ;
+For if such actions may have passage free ,
+Bond-slaves and pagans shall our statesmen be .
+
+There is no composition in these news
+That gives them credit .
+
+Indeed , they are disproportion'd ;
+My letters say a hundred and seven galleys .
+
+And mine , a hundred and forty .
+
+And mine , two hundred :
+But though they jump not on a just account ,
+As in these cases , where the aim reports ,
+'Tis oft with difference ,yet do they all confirm
+A Turkish fleet , and bearing up to Cyprus .
+
+Nay , it is possible enough to judgment :
+I do not so secure me in the error ,
+But the main article I do approve
+In fearful sense .
+
+What , ho ! what , ho ! what , ho !
+
+A messenger from the galleys .
+
+
+Now , what's the business ?
+
+The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes ;
+So was I bid report here to the state
+By Signior Angelo .
+
+How say you by this change ?
+
+This cannot be ,
+By no assay of reason ; 'tis a pageant
+To keep us in false gaze . When we consider
+The importancy of Cyprus to the Turk ,
+And let ourselves again but understand ,
+That as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes ,
+So may he with more facile question bear it ,
+For that it stands not in such war-like brace ,
+But altogether lacks the abilities
+That Rhodes is dress'd in : if we make thought of this ,
+We must not think the Turk is so unskilful
+To leave that latest which concerns him first ,
+Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain ,
+To wake and wage a danger profitless .
+
+Nay , in all confidence , he's not for Rhodes .
+
+Here is more news .
+
+
+The Ottomites , reverend and gracious ,
+Steering with due course toward the isle of Rhodes ,
+Have there injointed them with an after fleet .
+
+Ay , so I thought . How many , as you guess ?
+
+Of thirty sail ; and now they do re-stem
+Their backward course , bearing with frank appearance
+Their purposes toward Cyprus . Signior Montano ,
+Your trusty and most valiant servitor ,
+With his free duty recommends you thus ,
+And prays you to believe him .
+
+'Tis certain then , for Cyprus .
+Marcus Luccicos , is not he in town ?
+
+He's now in Florence .
+
+Write from us to him ; post-post-haste dispatch .
+
+Here comes Brabantio and the valiant Moor .
+
+
+Valiant Othello , we must straight employ you
+Against the general enemy Ottoman .
+
+
+I did not see you ; welcome , gentle signior ;
+We lack'd your counsel and your help to-night .
+
+So did I yours . Good your grace , pardon me ;
+Neither my place nor aught I heard of business
+Hath rais'd me from my bed , nor doth the general care
+Take hold of me , for my particular grief
+Is of so flood-gate and o'erbearing nature
+That it engluts and swallows other sorrows
+And it is still itself .
+
+Why , what's the matter ?
+
+My daughter ! O ! my daughter .
+
+Dead ?
+
+Dead ?
+
+Ay , to me ;
+She is abus'd , stol'n from me , and corrupted
+By spells and medicines bought of mounte-banks ;
+For nature so preposterously to err ,
+Being not deficient , blind , or lame of sense ,
+Sans witchcraft could not .
+
+Whoe'er he be that in this foul proceeding
+Hath thus beguil'd your daughter of herself
+And you of her , the bloody book of law
+You shall yourself read in the bitter letter
+After your own sense ; yea , though our proper son
+Stood in your action .
+
+Humbly I thank your Grace .
+Here is the man , this Moor ; whom now , it seems ,
+Your special mandate for the state affairs ,
+Hath hither brought .
+
+We are very sorry for it .
+
+We are very sorry for it .
+
+What , in your own part , can you say to this ?
+
+Nothing , but this is so .
+
+Most potent , grave , and reverend signiors ,
+My very noble and approv'd good masters ,
+That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter ,
+It is most true ; true , I have married her :
+The very head and front of my offending
+Hath this extent , no more . Rude am I in my speech ,
+And little bless'd with the soft phrase of peace ;
+For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith ,
+Till now some nine moons wasted , they have us'd
+Their dearest action in the tented field ;
+And little of this great world can I speak ,
+More than pertains to feats of broil and battle ;
+And therefore little shall I grace my cause
+In speaking for myself . Yet , by your gracious patience ,
+I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver
+Of my whole course of love ; what drugs , what charms ,
+What conjuration , and what mighty magic ,
+For such proceeding I am charg'd withal ,
+I won his daughter .
+
+A maiden never bold ;
+Of spirit so still and quiet , that her motion
+Blush'd at herself ; and she , in spite of nature ,
+Of years , of country , credit , every thing ,
+To fall in love with what she fear'd to look on !
+It is a judgment maim'd and most imperfect
+That will confess perfection so could err
+Against all rules of nature , and must be driven
+To find out practices of cunning hell ,
+Why this should be . I therefore vouch again
+That with some mixtures powerful o'er the blood ,
+Or with some dram conjur'd to this effect ,
+He wrought upon her .
+
+To vouch this , is no proof ,
+Without more certain and more overt test
+Than these thin habits and poor likelihoods
+Of modern seeming do prefer against him .
+
+But , Othello , speak :
+Did you by indirect and forced courses
+Subdue and poison this young maid's affections ;
+Or came it by request and such fair question
+As soul to soul affordeth ?
+
+I do beseech you ,
+Send for the lady to the Sagittary ,
+And let her speak of me before her father :
+If you do find me foul in her report ,
+The trust , the office I do hold of you ,
+Not only take away , but let your sentence
+Even fall upon my life .
+
+Fetch Desdemona hither .
+
+Ancient , conduct them ; you best know the place .
+
+And , till she come , as truly as to heaven
+I do confess the vices of my blood ,
+So justly to your grave ears I'll present
+How I did thrive in this fair lady's love ,
+And she in mine .
+
+Say it , Othello .
+
+Her father lov'd me ; oft invited me ;
+Still question'd me the story of my life
+From year to year , the battles , sieges , fortunes
+That I have pass'd .
+I ran it through , even from my boyish days
+To the very moment that he bade me tell it ;
+Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances ,
+Of moving accidents by flood and field ,
+Of hair-breadth 'scapes i' the imminent deadly breach ,
+Of being taken by the insolent foe
+And sold to slavery , of my redemption thence
+And portance in my travel's history ;
+Wherein of antres vast and desarts idle ,
+Rough quarries , rocks and hills whose heads touch heaven ,
+It was my hint to speak , such was the process ;
+And of the Cannibals that each other eat ,
+The Anthropophagi , and men whose heads
+Do grow beneath their shoulders . This to hear
+Would Desdemona seriously incline ;
+But still the house-affairs would draw her thence ;
+Which ever as she could with haste dispatch ,
+She'd come again , and with a greedy ear
+Devour up my discourse . Which I observing ,
+Took once a pliant hour , and found good means
+To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart
+That I would all my pilgrimage dilate ,
+Whereof by parcels she had something heard ,
+But not intentively : I did consent ;
+And often did beguile her of her tears ,
+When I did speak of some distressful stroke
+That my youth suffer'd . My story being done ,
+She gave me for my pains a world of sighs :
+She swore , in faith , 'twas strange , 'twas passing strange ;
+'Twas pitiful , 'twas wondrous pitiful :
+She wish'd she had not heard it , yet she wish'd
+That heaven had made her such a man ; she thank'd me ,
+And bade me , if I had a friend that lov'd her ,
+I should but teach him how to tell my story ,
+And that would woo her . Upon this hint I spake :
+She lov'd me for the dangers I had pass'd ,
+And I lov'd her that she did pity them .
+This only is the witchcraft I have us'd :
+Here comes the lady ; let her witness it .
+
+
+I think this tale would win my daughter too .
+Good Brabantio ,
+Take up this mangled matter at the best ;
+Men do their broken weapons rather use
+Than their bare hands .
+
+I pray you , hear her speak :
+If she confess that she was half the wooer ,
+Destruction on my head , if my bad blame
+Light on the man ! Come hither , gentle mistress :
+Do you perceive in all this noble company
+Where most you owe obedience ?
+
+My noble father ,
+I do perceive here a divided duty :
+To you I am bound for life and education ;
+My life and education both do learn me
+How to respect you ; you are the lord of duty ,
+I am hitherto your daughter : but here's my husband ;
+And so much duty as my mother show'd
+To you , preferring you before her father ,
+So much I challenge that I may profess
+Due to the Moor my lord .
+
+God be with you ! I have done .
+Please it your Grace , on to the state affairs :
+I had rather to adopt a child than get it .
+Come hither , Moor :
+I here do give thee that with all my heart
+Which , but thou hast already , with all my heart
+I would keep from thee . For your sake , jewel ,
+I am glad at soul I have no other child ;
+For thy escape would teach me tyranny ,
+To hang clogs on them . I have done , my lord .
+
+Let me speak like yourself and lay a sentence ,
+Which as a grize or step , may help these lovers
+Into your favour .
+When remedies are past , the griefs are ended
+By seeing the worst , which late on hopes depended .
+To mourn a mischief that is past and gone
+Is the next way to draw new mischief on .
+What cannot be preserv'd when Fortune takes ,
+Patience her injury a mockery makes .
+The robb'd that smiles steals something from the thief ;
+He robs himself that spends a bootless grief .
+
+So let the Turk of Cyprus us beguile ;
+We lose it not so long as we can smile .
+He bears the sentence well that nothing bears
+But the free comfort which from thence he hears ;
+But he bears both the sentence and the sorrow
+That , to pay grief , must of poor patience borrow .
+These sentences , to sugar , or to gall ,
+Being strong on both sides , are equivocal :
+But words are words ; I never yet did hear
+That the bruis'd heart was pierced through the ear .
+I humbly beseech you , proceed to the affairs of state .
+
+The Turk with a most mighty preparation makes for Cyprus . Othello , the fortitude of the place is best known to you ; and though we have there a substitute of most allowed sufficiency , yet opinion , a sovereign mistress of effects , throws a more safer voice on you : you must therefore be content to slubber the gloss of your new fortunes with this more stubborn and boisterous expedition .
+
+The tyrant custom , most grave senators ,
+Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war
+My thrice-driven bed of down : I do agnize
+A natural and prompt alacrity
+I find in hardness , and do undertake
+These present wars against the Ottomites .
+Most humbly therefore bending to your state ,
+I crave fit disposition for my wife ,
+Due reference of place and exhibition ,
+With such accommodation and besort
+As levels with her breeding .
+
+If you please ,
+Be 't at her father's .
+
+I'll not have it so .
+
+Nor I .
+
+Nor I ; I would not there reside ,
+To put my father in impatient thoughts
+By being in his eye . Most gracious duke ,
+To my unfolding lend your gracious ear ;
+And let me find a charter in your voice
+To assist my simpleness .
+
+What would you , Desdemona ?
+
+That I did love the Moor to live with him ,
+My downright violence and storm of fortunes
+May trumpet to the world ; my heart's subdu'd
+Even to the very quality of my lord ;
+I saw Othello's visage in his mind ,
+And to his honours and his valiant parts
+Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate .
+So that , dear lords , if I be left behind ,
+A moth of peace , and he go to the war ,
+The rites for which I love him are bereft me ,
+And I a heavy interim shall support
+By his dear absence . Let me go with him .
+
+Let her have your voices .
+Vouch with me , heaven , I therefore beg it not
+To please the palate of my appetite ,
+Nor to comply with heat ,the young affects
+In me defunct ,and proper satisfaction ,
+But to be free and bounteous to her mind ;
+And heaven defend your good souls that you think
+I will your serious and great business scant
+For she is with me . No , when light-wing'd toys
+Of feather'd Cupid seel with wanton dulness
+My speculative and offic'd instruments ,
+That my disports corrupt and taint my business ,
+Let housewives make a skillet of my helm ,
+And all indign and base adversities
+Make head against my estimation !
+
+Be it as you shall privately determine ,
+Either for her stay or going . The affair cries haste ,
+And speed must answer it .
+
+You must away to-night .
+
+With all my heart .
+
+At nine i' the morning here we'll meet again .
+Othello , leave some officer behind ,
+And he shall our commission bring to you ;
+With such things else of quality and respect
+As doth import you .
+
+So please your Grace , my ancient ;
+A man he is of honesty and trust :
+To his conveyance I assign my wife ,
+With what else needful your good grace shall think
+To be sent after me .
+
+Let it be so .
+Good night to every one .
+
+And , noble signior ,
+If virtue no delighted beauty lack ,
+Your son-in-law is far more fair than black .
+
+Adieu , brave Moor ! use Desdemona well .
+
+Look to her , Moor , if thou hast eyes to see :
+She has deceiv'd her father , and may thee .
+
+
+My life upon her faith ! Honest Iago ,
+My Desdemona must I leave to thee :
+I prithee , let thy wife attend on her ;
+And bring them after in the best advantage .
+Come , Desdemona ; I have but an hour
+Of love , of worldly matters and direction ,
+To spend with thee : we must obey the time .
+
+
+Iago !
+
+What sayst thou , noble heart ?
+
+What will I do , think'st thou ?
+
+Why , go to bed , and sleep .
+
+I will incontinently drown myself .
+
+Well , if thou dost , I shall never love thee after . Why , thou silly gentleman !
+
+It is silliness to live when to live is torment ; and then have we a prescription to die when death is our physician .
+
+O ! villanous ; I have looked upon the world for four times seven years , and since I could distinguish betwixt a benefit and an injury , I never found man that knew how to love himself . Ere I would say , I would drown myself for the love of a guinea-hen , I would change my humanity with a baboon .
+
+What should I do ? I confess it is my shame to be so fond ; but it is not in my virtue to amend it .
+
+Virtue ! a fig ! 'tis in ourselves that we are thus , or thus . Our bodies are our gardens , to the which our wills are gardeners ; so that if we will plant nettles or sow lettuce , set hyssop and woed up thyme , supply it with one gender of herbs or distract it with many , either to have it sterile with idleness or manured with industry , why , the power and corrigible authority of this lies in our wills . If the balance of our lives had not one scale of reason to poise another of sensuality , the blood and baseness of our natures would conduct us to most preposterous conclusions ; but we have reason to cool our raging motions , our carnal stings , our unbitted lusts , whereof I take this that you call love to be a sect or scion .
+
+It cannot be .
+
+It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission of the will . Come , be a man . Drown thyself ! drown cats and blind puppies . I have professed me thy friend , and I confess me knit to thy deserving with cables of perdurable toughness ; I could never better stead thee than now . Put money in thy purse ; follow these wars ; defeat thy favour with a usurped beard ; I say , put money in thy purse . It cannot be that Desdemona should long continue her love to the Moor ,put money in thy purse ,nor he his to her . It was a violent commencement in her , and thou shalt see an answerable sequestration ; put but money in thy purse . These Moors are changeable in their wills ;fill thy purse with money :the food that to him now is as luscious as locusts , shall be to him shortly as bitter as coloquintida . She must change for youth : when she is sated with his body , she will find the error of her choice . She must have change , she must : therefore put money in thy purse . If thou wilt needs damn thyself , do it a more delicate way than drowning . Make all the money thou canst . If sanctimony and a frail vow betwixt an erring barbarian and a supersubtle Venetian be not too hard for my wits and all the tribe of hell , thou shalt enjoy her ; therefore make money . A pox of drowning thyself ! it is clean out of the way : seek thou rather to be hanged in compassing thy joy than to be drowned and go without her .
+
+Wilt thou be fast to my hopes , if I depend on the issue ?
+
+Thou art sure of me : go , make money . I have told thee often , and I re-tell thee again and again , I hate the Moor : my cause is hearted : thine hath no less reason . Let us be conjunctive in our revenge against him ; if thou canst cuckold him , thou dost thyself a pleasure , me a sport . There are many events in the womb of time which will be delivered . Traverse ; go : provide thy money . We will have more of this to-morrow . Adieu .
+
+Where shall we meet i' the morning ?
+
+At my lodging .
+
+I'll be with thee betimes .
+
+Go to ; farewell . Do you hear , Roderigo ?
+
+What say you ?
+
+No more of drowning , do you hear ?
+
+I am changed . I'll sell all my land .
+
+Go to ; farewell ! put money enough in your purse .
+
+Thus do I ever make my fool my purse ;
+For I mine own gain'd knowledge should profane ,
+If I would time expend with such a snipe
+But for my sport and profit . I hate the Moor ,
+And it is thought abroad that 'twixt my sheets
+He has done my office : I know not if 't be true ,
+But I , for mere suspicion in that kind ,
+Will do as if for surety . He holds me well ;
+The better shall my purpose work on him .
+Cassio's a proper man ; let me see now :
+To get his place ; and to plume up my will
+In double knavery ; how , how ? Let's see :
+After some time to abuse Othello's ear
+That he is too familiar with his wife :
+He hath a person and a smooth dispose
+To be suspected ; framed to make women false .
+The Moor is of a free and open nature ,
+That thinks men honest that but seem to be so ,
+And will as tenderly be led by the nose
+As asses are .
+I have 't ; it is engender'd : hell and night
+Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light .
+
+What from the cape can you discern at sea ?
+
+Nothing at all : it is a high-wrought flood ;
+I cannot 'twixt the heaven and the main
+Descry a sail .
+
+Methinks the wind hath spoke aloud at land ;
+A fuller blast ne'er shook our battlements ;
+If it hath ruffian'd so upon the sea ,
+What ribs of oak , when mountains melt on them ,
+Can hold the mortise ? what shall we hear of this ?
+
+A segregation of the Turkish fleet ;
+For do but stand upon the foaming shore ,
+The chidden billow seems to pelt the clouds ;
+The wind-shak'd surge , with high and monstrous mane ,
+Seems to cast water on the burning bear
+And quench the guards of the ever-fixed pole :
+I never did like molestation view
+On the enchafed flood .
+
+If that the Turkish fleet
+Be not enshelter'd and embay'd , they are drown'd ;
+It is impossible they bear it out .
+
+
+News , lads ! our wars are done .
+The desperate tempest hath so bang'd the Turks
+That their designment halts ; a noble ship of Venice
+Hath seen a grievous wrack and sufferance
+On most part of their fleet .
+
+How ! is this true ?
+
+The ship is here put in ,
+A Veronesa ; Michael Cassio ,
+Lieutenant to the war-like Moor Othello ,
+Is come on shore : the Moor himself's at sea ,
+And is in full commission here for Cyprus .
+
+I am glad on 't ; 'tis a worthy governor .
+
+But this same Cassio , though he speak of comfort
+Touching the Turkish loss , yet he looks sadly
+And prays the Moor be safe ; for they were parted
+With foul and violent tempest .
+
+Pray heaven he be ;
+For I have serv'd him , and the man commands
+Like a full soldier . Let's to the sea-side , ho !
+As well to see the vessel that's come in
+As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello ,
+Even till we make the main and the aerial blue
+An indistinct regard .
+
+Come , let's do so ;
+For every minute is expectancy
+Of more arrivance .
+
+
+Thanks , you the valiant of this war-like isle ,
+That so approve the Moor . O ! let the heavens
+Give him defence against the elements ,
+For I have lost him on a dangerous sea .
+
+Is he well shipp'd ?
+
+His bark is stoutly timber'd , and his pilot
+Of very expert and approv'd allowance ;
+Therefore my hopes , not surfeited to death ,
+Stand in bold cure .
+
+What noise ?
+
+The town is empty ; on the brow o' the sea
+Stand ranks of people , and they cry , 'A sail !'
+
+My hopes do shape him for the governor .
+
+
+They do discharge their shot of courtesy ;
+Our friends at least .
+
+I pray you , sir , go forth ,
+And give us truth who 'tis that is arriv'd .
+
+I shall .
+
+
+But , good lieutenant , is your general wiv'd ?
+
+Most fortunately : he hath achiev'd a maid
+That paragons description and wild fame ;
+One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens ,
+And in th' essential vesture of creation
+Does tire the ingener .
+
+How now ! who has put in ?
+
+'Tis one Iago , ancient to the general .
+
+He has had most favourable and happy speed :
+Tempests themselves , high seas , and howling winds ,
+The gutter'd rocks , and congregated sands ,
+Traitors ensteep'd to clog the guiltless keel ,
+As having sense of beauty , do omit
+Their mortal natures , letting go safely by
+The divine Desdemona .
+
+What is she ?
+
+She that I spake of , our great captain's captain ,
+Left in the conduct of the bold Iago ,
+Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts
+A se'nnight's speed . Great Jove , Othello guard ,
+And swell his sail with thine own powerful breath ,
+That he may bless this bay with his tall ship ,
+Make love's quick pants in Desdemona's arms ,
+Give renew'd fire to our extinc'ed spirits ,
+And bring all Cyprus comfort !
+
+
+O ! behold ,
+The riches of the ship is come on shore .
+Ye men of Cyprus , let her have your knees .
+Hail to thee , lady ! and the grace of heaven ,
+Before , behind thee , and on every hand ,
+
+Enwheel thee round !
+
+I thank you , valiant Cassio .
+What tidings can you tell me of my lord ?
+
+He is not yet arriv'd ; nor know I aught
+But that he's well , and will be shortly here .
+
+O ! but I fear How lost you company ?
+
+The great contention of the sea and skies
+Parted our fellowship . But hark ! a sail .
+
+
+They give their greeting to the citadel :
+This likewise is a friend .
+
+See for the news !
+
+Good ancient , you are welcome :
+
+welcome , mistress .
+Let it not gall your patience , good Iago ,
+That I extend my manners ; 'tis my breeding
+That gives me this bold show of courtesy .
+
+
+Sir , would she give you so much of her lips
+As of her tongue she oft bestows on me ,
+You'd have enough .
+
+Alas ! she has no speech .
+
+In faith , too much ;
+I find it still when I have list to sleep :
+Marry , before your ladyship , I grant ,
+She puts her tongue a little in her heart ,
+And chides with thinking .
+
+You have little cause to say so .
+
+Come on , come on ; you are pictures out of doors ,
+Bells in your parlours , wild cats in your kitchens ,
+Saints in your injuries , devils being offended ,
+Players in your housewifery , and housewives in your beds .
+
+O ! fie upon thee , slanderer .
+
+Nay , it is true , or else I am a Turk :
+You rise to play and go to bed to work .
+
+You shall not write my praise .
+
+No , let me not .
+
+What wouldst thou write of me , if thou shouldst praise me ?
+
+O gentle lady , do not put me to 't ,
+For I am nothing if not critical .
+
+Come on ; assay . There's one gone to the harbour ?
+
+Ay , madam .
+
+I am not merry , but I do beguile
+The thing I am by seeming otherwise .
+Come , how wouldst thou praise me ?
+
+I am about it ; but indeed my invention
+Comes from my pate as birdlime does from frize ;
+It plucks out brains and all : but my muse labours ,
+And thus she is deliver'd .
+If she be fair and wise , fairness and wit ,
+The one's for use , the other useth it .
+
+Well prais'd ! How if she be black and witty ?
+
+If she be black , and thereto have a wit ,
+She'll find a white that shall her blackness fit .
+
+Worse and worse .
+
+How if fair and foolish ?
+
+She never yet was foolish that was fair ,
+For even her folly help'd her to an heir .
+
+These are old fond paradoxes to make fools laugh i' the alehouse . What miserable praise hast thou for her that's foul and foolish ?
+
+There's none so foul and foolish thereunto
+But does foul pranks which fair and wise ones do .
+
+O heavy ignorance ! thou praisest the worst best . But what praise couldst thou bestow on a deserving woman indeed , one that , in the authority of her merit , did justly put on the vouch of very malice itself ?
+
+She that was ever fair and never proud ,
+Had tongue at will and yet was never loud ,
+Never lack'd gold and yet went never gay ,
+Fled from her wish and yet said 'Now I may ,'
+She that being anger'd , her revenge being nigh ,
+Bade her wrong stay and her displeasure fly ,
+She that in wisdom never was so frail
+To change the cod's head for the salmon's tail ,
+She that could think and ne'er disclose her mind ,
+See suitors following and not look behind ,
+She was a wight , if ever such wight were ,
+
+To do what ?
+
+To suckle fools and chronicle small beer .
+
+O most lame and impotent conclusion ! Do not learn of him , Emilia , though he be thy husband . How say you , Cassio ? is he not a most profane and liberal counsellor ?
+
+He speaks home , madam ; you may relish him more in the soldier than in the scholar .
+
+He takes her by the palm ; ay , well said , whisper ; with as little a web as this will I ensnare as great a fly as Cassio . Ay , smile upon her , do ; I will gyve thee in thine own courtship . You say true , 'tis so , indeed . If such tricks as these strip you out of your lieutenantry , it had been better you had not kissed your three fingers so oft , which now again you are most apt to play the sir in . Very good ; well kissed ! an excellent courtesy ! 'tis so , indeed . Yet again your fingers to your lips ? would they were clyster-pipes for your sake ! [A trumpet heard .] The Moor ! I know his trumpet .
+
+'Tis truly so .
+
+Let's meet him and receive him .
+
+Lo ! where he comes .
+
+
+O my fair warrior !
+
+My dear Othello !
+
+It gives me wonder great as my content
+To see you here before me . O my soul's joy !
+If after every tempest come such calms ,
+May the winds blow till they have waken'd death !
+And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas
+Olympus-high , and duck again as low
+As hell's from heaven ! If it were now to die ,
+'Twere now to be most happy , for I fear
+My soul hath her content so absolute
+That not another comfort like to this
+Succeeds in unknown fate .
+
+The heavens forbid
+But that our loves and comforts should increase
+Even as our days do grow !
+
+Amen to that , sweet powers !
+I cannot speak enough of this content ;
+It stops me here ; it is too much of joy :
+And this , and this , the greatest discords be ,
+
+That e'er our hearts shall make !
+
+O ! you are well tun'd now ,
+But I'll set down the pegs that make this music ,
+As honest as I am .
+
+Come , let us to the castle .
+News , friends ; our wars are done , the Turks are drown'd .
+How does my old acquaintance of this isle ?
+Honey , you shall be well desir'd in Cyprus ;
+I have found great love amongst them . O my sweet ,
+I prattle out of fashion , and I dote
+In mine own comforts . I prithee , good Iago ,
+Go to the bay and disembark my coffers .
+Bring thou the master to the citadel ;
+He is a good one , and his worthiness
+Does challenge much respect . Come , Desdemona ,
+Once more well met at Cyprus .
+
+
+Do thou meet me presently at the harbour . Come hither . If thou be'st valiant , as they say base men being in love have then a nobility in their natures more than is native to them , list me . The lieutenant to-night watches on the court of guard : first , I must tell thee this , Desdemona is directly in love with him .
+
+With him ! why , 'tis not possible .
+
+Lay thy finger thus , and let thy soul be instructed . Mark me with what violence she first loved the Moor but for bragging and telling her fantastical lies ; and will she love him still for prating ? let not thy discreet heart think it . Her eye must be fed ; and what delight shall she have to look on the devil ? When the blood is made dull with the act of sport , there should be , again to inflame it , and to give satiety a fresh appetite , loveliness in favour , sympathy in years , manners , and beauties ; all which the Moor is defective in . Now , for want of these required conveniences , her delicate tenderness will find itself abused , begin to heave the gorge , disrelish and abhor the Moor ; very nature will instruct her in it , and compel her to some second choice . Now , sir , this granted , as it is a most pregnant and unforced position , who stands so eminently in the degree of this fortune as Cassio does ? a knave very voluble , no further conscionable than in putting on the mere form of civil and humane seeming , for the better compassing of his salt and most hidden loose affection ? why , none ; why , none : a slipper and subtle knave , a finder-out of occasions , that has an eye can stamp and counterfeit advantages , though true advantage never present itself ; a devilish knave ! Besides , the knave is handsome , young , and hath all those requisites in him that folly and green minds look after ; a pestilent complete knave ! and the woman hath found him already .
+
+I cannot believe that in her ; she is full of most blessed condition .
+
+Blessed fig's end ! the wine she drinks is made of grapes ; if she had been blessed she would never have loved the Moor ; blessed pudding ! Didst thou not see her paddle with the palm of his hand ? didst not mark that ?
+
+Yes , that I did ; but that was but courtesy .
+
+Lechery , by this hand ! an index and obscure prologue to the history of lust and foul thoughts . They met so near with their lips , that their breaths embraced together . Villanous thoughts , Roderigo ! when these mutualities so marshal the way , hard at hand comes the master and main exercise , the incorporate conclusion . Pish ! But , sir , be you ruled by me : I have brought you from Venice . Watch you to-night ; for the command , I'll lay 't upon you : Cassio knows you not . I'll not be far from you : do you find some occasion to anger Cassio , either by speaking too loud , or tainting his discipline ; or from what other course you please , which the time shall more favourably minister .
+
+Well .
+
+Sir , he is rash and very sudden in choler , and haply may strike at you : provoke him , that he may ; for even out of that will I cause these of Cyprus to mutiny , whose qualification shall come into no true taste again but by the displanting of Cassio . So shall you have a shorter journey to your desires by the means I shall then have to prefer them ; and the impediment most profitably removed , without the which there were no expectation of our prosperity .
+
+I will do this , if I can bring it to any opportunity .
+
+I warrant thee . Meet me by and by at the citadel : I must fetch his necessaries ashore .
+Farewell .
+
+Adieu .
+
+
+That Cassio loves her , I do well believe it ;
+That she loves him , 'tis apt , and of great credit :
+The Moor , howbeit that I endure him not ,
+Is of a constant , loving , noble nature ;
+And I dare think he'll prove to Desdemona
+A most dear husband . Now , I do love her too ;
+Not out of absolute lust ,though peradventure
+I stand accountant for as great a sin ,
+But partly led to diet my revenge ,
+For that I do suspect the lusty Moor
+Hath leap'd into my seat ; the thought whereof
+Doth like a poisonous mineral gnaw my inwards ;
+And nothing can or shall content my soul
+Till I am even'd with him , wife for wife ;
+Or failing so , yet that I put the Moor
+At least into a jealousy so strong
+That judgment cannot cure . Which thing to do ,
+If this poor trash of Venice , whom I trash
+For his quick hunting , stand the putting on ,
+I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip ;
+Abuse him to the Moor in the rank garb ,
+For I fear Cassio with my night-cap too ,
+Make the Moor thank me , love me , and reward me
+For making him egregiously an ass
+And practising upon his peace and quiet
+Even to madness . 'Tis here , but yet confus'd :
+Knavery's plain face is never seen till us'd .
+
+
+It is Othello's pleasure , our noble and valiant general , that , upon certain tidings now arrived , importing the mere perdition of the Turkish fleet , every man put himself into triumph ; some to dance , some to make bonfires , each man to what sport and revels his addiction leads him ; for , besides these beneficial news , it is the celebration of his nuptial . So much was his pleasure should be proclaimed . All offices are open , and there is full liberty of feasting from this present hour of five till the bell have told eleven . Heaven bless the isle of Cyprus and our noble general Othello !
+
+
+Good Michael , look you to the guard to-night :
+Let's teach ourselves that honourable stop ,
+Not to outsport discretion .
+
+Iago hath direction what to do ;
+But , notwithstanding , with my personal eye
+Will I look to 't .
+
+Iago is most honest .
+Michael , good night ; to-morrow with your earliest
+Let me have speech with you .
+
+Come , my dear love ,
+The purchase made , the fruits are to ensue ;
+That profit's yet to come 'twixt me and you .
+Good night .
+
+Welcome , Iago ; we must to the watch .
+
+Not this hour , lieutenant ; 'tis not yet ten o' the clock . Our general cast us thus early for the love of his Desdemona , who let us not therefore blame ; he hath not yet made wanton the night with her , and she is sport for Jove .
+
+She's a most exquisite lady .
+
+And , I'll warrant her , full of game .
+
+Indeed , she is a most fresh and delicate creature .
+
+What an eye she has ! methinks it sounds a parley of provocation .
+
+An inviting eye ; and yet methinks right modest .
+
+And when she speaks , is it not an alarum to love ?
+
+She is indeed perfection .
+
+Well , happiness to their sheets ! Come , lieutenant , I have a stoup of wine , and here without are a brace of Cyprus gallants that would fain have a measure to the health of black Othello .
+
+Not to-night , good Iago : I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking : I could well wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment .
+
+O ! they are our friends ; but one cup : I'll drink for you .
+
+I have drunk but one cup to-night , and that was craftily qualified too , and , behold , what innovation it makes here : I am unfortunate in the infirmity , and dare not task my weakness with any more .
+
+What , man ! 'tis a night of revels ; the gallants desire it .
+
+Where are they ?
+
+Here at the door ; I pray you , call them in .
+
+I'll do 't ; but it dislikes me .
+
+
+If I can fasten but one cup upon him ,
+With that which he hath drunk to-night already ,
+He'll be as full of quarrel and offence
+As my young mistress' dog . Now , my sick fool Roderigo ,
+Whom love has turn'd almost the wrong side out ,
+To Desdemona hath to-night carous'd
+Potations pottle deep ; and he's to watch .
+Three lads of Cyprus , noble swelling spirits ,
+That hold their honours in a wary distance ,
+The very elements of this war-like isle ,
+Have I to-night fluster'd with flowing cups ,
+And they watch too . Now , 'mongst this flock of drunkards ,
+Am I to put our Cassio in some action
+That may offend the isle . But here they come .
+If consequence do but approve my dream ,
+My boat sails freely , both with wind and stream .
+
+
+'Fore God , they have given me a rouse already .
+
+Good faith , a little one ; not past a pint , as I am a soldier .
+
+Some wine , ho !
+
+And let me the canakin clink , clink ;
+And let me the canakin clink :
+A soldier's a man ;
+A life's but a span ;
+Why then let a soldier drink .
+
+Some wine , boys !
+
+'Fore God , an excellent song .
+
+I learned it in England , where indeed they are most potent in potting ; your Dane , your German , and your swag-bellied Hollander , drink , ho !are nothing to your English .
+
+Is your Englishman so expert in his drinking ?
+
+Why , he drinks you with facility your Dane dead drunk ; he sweats not to overthrow your Almain ; he gives your Hollander a vomit ere the next pottle can be filled .
+
+To the health of our general !
+
+I am for it , lieutenant ; and I'll do you justice .
+
+O sweet England !
+
+King Stephen was a worthy peer ,
+His breeches cost him but a crown ;
+He held them sixpence all too dear ,
+With that he call'd the tailor lown .
+He was a wight of high renown ,
+And thou art but of low degree :
+'Tis pride that pulls the country down ,
+Then take thine auld cloak about thee .
+
+Some wine , ho !
+
+Why , this is a more exquisite song than the other .
+
+Will you hear 't again ?
+
+No ; for I hold him to be unworthy of his place that does those things . Well , God's above all ; and there be souls must be saved , and there be souls must not be saved .
+
+It's true , good lieutenant .
+
+For mine own part ,no offence to the general , nor any man of quality ,I hope to be saved .
+
+And so do I too , lieutenant .
+
+Ay ; but , by your leave , not before me ; the lieutenant is to be saved before the ancient . Let's have no more of this ; let's to our affairs . God forgive us our sins ! Gentlemen , let's look to our business . Do not think , gentlemen , I am drunk : this is my ancient ; this is my right hand , and this is my left hand . I am not drunk now ; I can stand well enough , and speak well enough .
+
+Excellent well .
+
+Why , very well , then ; you must not think then that I am drunk .
+
+
+To the platform , masters ; come , let's set the watch .
+
+You see this fellow that is gone before ;
+He is a soldier fit to stand by C sar
+And give direction ; and do but see his vice ;
+'Tis to his virtue a just equinox ,
+The one as long as the other ; 'tis pity of him .
+I fear the trust Othello puts him in ,
+On some odd time of his infirmity ,
+Will shake this island .
+
+But is he often thus ?
+
+'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep :
+He'll watch the horologe a double set ,
+If drink rock not his cradle .
+
+It were well
+The general were put in mind of it .
+Perhaps he sees it not ; or his good nature
+Prizes the virtue that appears in Cassio ,
+And looks not on his evils . Is not this true ?
+
+
+How now , Roderigo !
+I pray you , after the lieutenant ; go .
+
+
+And 'tis great pity that the noble Moor
+Should hazard such a place as his own second
+With one of an ingraft infirmity ;
+It were an honest action to say
+So to the Moor .
+
+Not I , for this fair island :
+I do love Cassio well , and would do much
+To cure him of this evil . But hark ! what noise ?
+
+You rogue ! you rascal !
+
+What's the matter , lieutenant ?
+
+A knave teach me my duty !
+I'll beat the knave into a twiggen bottle .
+
+Beat me !
+
+Dost thou prate , rogue ?
+
+
+Nay , good lieutenant ;
+I pray you , sir , hold your hand .
+
+Let me go , sir ,
+Or I'll knock you o'er the mazzard .
+
+Come , come ; you're drunk .
+
+Drunk !
+
+
+Away , I say ! go out , and cry a mutiny .
+
+Nay , good lieutenant ! God's will , gentlemen !
+Help , ho ! Lieutenant ! sir ! Montano ! sir !
+Help , masters ! Here's a goodly watch indeed !
+
+Who's that that rings the bell ? Diablo , ho !
+The town will rise : God's will ! lieutenant , hold !
+You will be sham'd for ever .
+
+
+What is the matter here ?
+
+'Zounds ! I bleed still ; I am hurt to the death .
+
+Hold , for your lives !
+
+Hold , ho , lieutenant ! Sir ! Montano ! gentlemen !
+Have you forgot all sense of place and duty ?
+Hold ! the general speaks to you ; hold for shame !
+
+Why , how now , ho ! from whence ariseth this ?
+Are we turn'd Turks , and to ourselves do that
+Which heaven hath forbid the Ottomites ?
+For Christian shame put by this barbarous brawl ;
+He that stirs next to carve for his own rage
+Holds his soul light ; he dies upon his motion .
+Silence that dreadful bell ! it frights the isle
+From her propriety . What is the matter , masters ?
+Honest Iago , that look'st dead with grieving ,
+Speak , who began this ? on thy love , I charge thee .
+
+I do not know ; friends all but now , even now ,
+In quarter and in terms like bride and groom
+Devesting them for bed ; and then , but now ,
+As if some planet had unwitted men ,
+Swords out , and tilting one at other's breast ,
+In opposition bloody . I cannot speak
+Any beginning to this peevish odds ,
+And would in action glorious I had lost
+Those legs that brought me to a part of it !
+
+How comes it , Michael , you are thus forgot ?
+
+I pray you , pardon me ; I cannot speak .
+
+Worthy Montano , you were wont be civil ;
+The gravity and stillness of your youth
+The world hath noted , and your name is great
+In mouths of wisest censure : what's the matter ,
+That you unlace your reputation thus
+And spend your rich opinion for the name
+Of a night-brawler ? give me answer to it .
+
+Worthy Othello , I am hurt to danger ;
+Your officer , Iago , can inform you ,
+While I spare speech , which something now offends me ,
+Of all that I do know ; nor know I aught
+By me that's said or done amiss this night ,
+Unless self-charity be sometimes a vice ,
+And to defend ourselves it be a sin
+When violence assails us .
+
+Now , by heaven ,
+My blood begins my safer guides to rule ,
+And passion , having my best judgment collied ,
+Assays to lead the way . If I once stir ,
+Or do but lift this arm , the best of you
+Shall sink in my rebuke . Give me to know
+How this foul rout began , who set it on ;
+And he that is approv'd in this offence ,
+Though he had twinn'd with me both at a birth
+Shall lose me . What ! in a town of war ,
+Yet wild , the people's hearts brimful of fear ,
+To manage private and domestic quarrel ,
+In night , and on the court and guard of safety !
+'Tis monstrous . Iago , who began 't ?
+
+If partially affin'd , or leagu'd in office ,
+Thou dost deliver more or less than truth ,
+Thou art no soldier .
+
+Touch me not so near ;
+I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth
+Than it should do offence to Michael Cassio ;
+Yet , I persuade myself , to speak the truth
+Shall nothing wrong him . Thus it is , general .
+Montano and myself being in speech ,
+There comes a fellow crying out for he'p ,
+And Cassio following with determin'd sword
+To execute upon him . Sir , this gentleman
+Steps in to Cassio , and entreats his pause ;
+Myself the crying fellow did pursue ,
+Lest by his clamour , as it so fell out ,
+The town might fall in fright ; he , swift of foot ,
+Outran my purpose , and I return'd the rather
+For that I heard the clink and fall of swords ,
+And Cassio high in oath , which till to-night
+I ne'er might say before . When I came back ,
+For this was brief ,I found them close together ,
+At blow and thrust , even as again they were
+When you yourself did part them .
+More of this matter can I not report :
+But men are men ; the best sometimes forget :
+Though Cassio did some little wrong to him ,
+As men in rage strike those that wish them best ,
+Yet , surely Cassio , I believe , receiv'd
+From him that fled some strange indignity ,
+Which patience could not pass .
+
+I know , Iago ,
+Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter ,
+Making it light to Cassio . Cassio , I love thee ;
+But never more be officer of mine .
+
+
+Look ! if my gentle love be not rais'd up ;
+
+I'll make thee an example .
+
+What's the matter ?
+
+All's well now , sweeting ; come away to bed .
+Sir , for your hurts , myself will be your surgeon .
+Lead him off .
+
+Iago , look with care about the town ,
+And silence those whom this vile brawl distracted .
+Come , Desdemona ; 'tis the soldiers' life ,
+To have their balmy slumbers wak'd with strife .
+
+
+What ! are you hurt , lieutenant ?
+
+Ay ; past all surgery .
+
+Marry , heaven forbid !
+
+Reputation , reputation , reputation ! O ! I have lost my reputation . I have lost the immortal part of myself , and what remains is bestial . My reputation , Iago , my reputation !
+
+As I am an honest man , I thought you had received some bodily wound ; there is more offence in that than in reputation . Reputation is an idle and most false imposition ; oft got without merit , and lost without deserving : you have lost no reputation at all , unless you repute yourself such a loser . What ! man ; there are ways to recover the general again ; you are but now cast in his mood , a punishment more in policy than in malice ; even so as one would beat his offenceless dog to affright an imperious lion . Sue to him again , and he is yours .
+
+I will rather sue to be despised than to deceive so good a commander with so slight , so drunken , and so indiscreet an officer . Drunk ! and speak parrot ! and squabble , swagger , swear , and discourse fustian with one's own shadow ! O thou invisible spirit of wine ! if thou hast no name to be known by , let us call thee devil !
+
+What was he that you followed with your sword ? What had he done to you ?
+
+I know not .
+
+Is 't possible ?
+
+I remember a mass of things , but nothing distinctly ; a quarrel , but nothing wherefore . O God ! that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains ; that we should , with joy , pleasance , revel , and applause , transform ourselves into beasts .
+
+Why , but you are now well enough ; how came you thus recovered ?
+
+It hath pleased the devil drunkenness to give place to the devil wrath ; one unperfectness shows me another , to make me frankly despise myself .
+
+Come , you are too severe a moraler . As the time , the place , and the condition of this country stands , I could heartily wish this had not befallen , but since it is as it is , mend it for your own good .
+
+I will ask him for my place again ; he shall tell me I am a drunkard ! Had I as many mouths as Hydra , such an answer would stop them all . To be now a sensible man , by and by a fool , and presently a beast ! O strange ! Every inordinate cup is unblessed and the ingredient is a devil .
+
+Come , come ; good wine is a good familiar creature if it be well used ; exclaim no more against it . And , good lieutenant , I think you think I love you .
+
+I have well approved it , sir . I drunk !
+
+You or any man living may be drunk at some time , man . I'll tell you what you shall do . Our general's wife is now the general : I may say so in this respect , for that he hath devoted and given up himself to the contemplation , mark , and denotement of her parts and graces : confess yourself freely to her ; importune her ; she'll help to put you in your place again . She is of so free , so kind , so apt , so blessed a disposition , that she holds it a vice in her goodness not to do more than she is requested . This broken joint between you and her husband entreat her to splinter ; and my fortunes against any lay worth naming , this crack of your love shall grow stronger than it was before .
+
+You advise me well .
+
+I protest , in the sincerity of love and honest kindness .
+
+I think it freely ; and betimes in the morning I will beseech the virtuous Desdemona to undertake for me . I am desperate of my fortunes if they check me here .
+
+You are in the right . Good night , lieutenant ; I must to the watch .
+
+Good night , honest Iago !
+
+
+And what's he then that says I play the villain ?
+When this advice is free I give and honest ,
+Probal to thinking and indeed the course
+To win the Moor again ? For 'tis most easy
+The inclining Desdemona to subdue
+In any honest suit ; she's fram'd as fruitful
+As the free elements . And then for her
+To win the Moor , were 't to renounce his baptism ,
+All seals and symbols of redeemed sin ,
+His soul is so enfetter'd to her love ,
+That she may make , unmake , do what she list ,
+Even as her appetite shall play the god
+With his weak function . How am I then a villain
+To counsel Cassio to this parallel course ,
+Directly to his good ? Divinity of hell !
+When devils will the blackest sins put on ,
+They do suggest at first with heavenly shows ,
+As I do now ; for while this honest fool
+Plies Desdemona to repair his fortunes ,
+And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor ,
+I'll pour this pestilence into his ear
+That she repeals him for her body's lust ;
+And , by how much she strives to do him good ,
+She shall undo her credit with the Moor .
+So will I turn her virtue into pitch ,
+And out of her own goodness make the net
+That shall enmesh them all .
+
+How now , Roderigo !
+
+I do follow here in the chase , not like a hound that hunts , but one that fills up the cry . My money is almost spent ; I have been to-night exceedingly well cudgelled ; and I think the issue will be , I shall have so much experience for my pains ; and so , with no money at all and a little more wit , return again to Venice .
+
+How poor are they that have not patience !
+What wound did ever heal but by degrees ?
+Thou know'st we work by wit and not by witchcraft ,
+And wit depends on dilatory time .
+Does 't not go well ? Cassio hath beaten thee ,
+And thou by that small hurt hast cashiered Cassio .
+Though other things grow fair against the sun ,
+Yet fruits that blossom first will first be ripe :
+Content thyself awhile . By the mass , 'tis morning ;
+Pleasure and action make the hours seem short .
+Retire thee ; go where thou art billeted :
+Away , I say ; thou shalt know more hereafter :
+Nay , get thee gone .
+
+Two things are to be done ,
+My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress ;
+I'll set her on ;
+Myself the while to draw the Moor apart ,
+And bring him jump when he may Cassio find
+Soliciting his wife : ay , that's the way :
+Dull not device by coldness and delay .
+
+Masters , play here , I will content your pains ;
+Something that's brief ; and bid 'Good morrow , general .'
+
+Why , masters , have your instruments been in Naples , that they speak i' the nose thus ?
+
+How , sir , how ?
+
+Are these , I pray you , wind-instruments ?
+
+Ay , marry , are they , sir .
+
+O ! thereby hangs a tail .
+
+Whereby hangs a tale , sir ?
+
+Marry , sir , by many a wind-instrument that I know . But , masters , here's money for you ; and the general so likes your music , that he desires you , for love's sake , to make no more noise with it .
+
+Well , sir , we will not .
+
+If you have any music that may not be heard , to 't again ; but , as they say , to hear music the general does not greatly care .
+
+We have none such , sir .
+
+Then put up your pipes in your bag , for
+I'll away . Go ; vanish into air ; away !
+
+
+Dost thou hear , mine honest friend ?
+
+No , I hear not your honest friend ; I hear you .
+
+Prithee , keep up thy quillets . There's a poor piece of gold for thee . If the gentlewoman that attends the general's wife be stirring , tell her there's one Cassio entreats her a little favour of speech : wilt thou do this ?
+
+She is stirring , sir : if she will stir hither ,
+I shall seem to notify unto her .
+
+Do , good my friend .
+
+
+In happy time , Iago .
+
+You have not been a-bed , then ?
+
+Why , no ; the day had broke
+Before we parted . I have made bold , Iago ,
+To send in to your wife ; my suit to her
+Is , that she will to virtuous Desdemona
+Procure me some access .
+
+I'll send her to you presently ;
+And I'll devise a mean to draw the Moor
+Out of the way , that your converse and business
+May be more free .
+
+I humbly thank you for 't .
+
+I never knew
+A Florentine more kind and honest .
+
+
+Good morrow , good lieutenant : I am sorry
+For your displeasure ; but all will soon be well .
+The general and his wife are talking of it ,
+And she speaks for you stoutly : the Moor replies
+That he you hurt is of great fame in Cyprus
+And great affinity , and that in wholesome wisdom
+He might not but refuse you ; but he protests he loves you ,
+And needs no other suitor but his likings
+To take the saf'st occasion by the front
+To bring you in again .
+
+Yet , I beseech you ,
+If you think fit , or that it may be done ,
+Give me advantage of some brief discourse
+With Desdemona alone .
+
+Pray you , come in :
+I will bestow you where you shall have time
+To speak your bosom freely .
+
+I am much bound to you .
+
+
+These letters give , Iago , to the pilot ,
+And by him do my duties to the senate ;
+That done , I will be walking on the works ;
+Repair there to me .
+
+Well , my good lord , I'll do t .
+
+This fortification , gentlemen , shall we see 't ?
+
+We'll wait upon your lordship .
+
+
+Be thou assur'd , good Cassio , I will do
+All my abilities in thy behalf .
+
+Good madam , do : I warrant it grieves my husband ,
+As if the case were his .
+
+O ! that's an honest fellow . Do not doubt , Cassio ,
+But I will have my lord and you again
+As friendly as you were .
+
+Bounteous madam ,
+Whatever shall become of Michael Cassio ,
+He's never anything but your true servant .
+
+I know 't ; I thank you . You do love my lord ;
+You have known him long ; and be you well assur'd
+He shall in strangeness stand no further off
+Than in a politic distance .
+
+Ay , but , lady ,
+That policy may either last so long ,
+Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet ,
+Or breed itself so out of circumstance ,
+That , I being absent and my place supplied ,
+My general will forget my love and service .
+
+Do not doubt that ; before Emilia here
+I give thee warrant of thy place . Assure thee ,
+If I do vow a friendship , I'll perform it
+To the last article ; my lord shall never rest ;
+I'll watch him tame , and talk him out of patience ;
+His bed shall seem a school , his board a shrift ;
+I'll intermingle every thing he does
+With Cassio's suit . Therefore be merry , Cassio ;
+For thy solicitor shall rather die
+Than give thy cause away .
+
+
+Madam , here comes my lord .
+
+Madam , I'll take my leave .
+
+Why , stay , and hear me speak .
+
+Madam , not now ; I am very ill at ease ,
+Unfit for mine own purposes .
+
+Well , do your discretion .
+
+
+Ha ! I like not that .
+
+What dost thou say ?
+
+Nothing , my lord : or if I know not what .
+
+Was not that Cassio parted from my wife ?
+
+Cassio , my lord ? No , sure , I cannot think it
+That he would steal away so guilty-like ,
+Seeing you coming .
+
+I do believe 'twas he .
+
+How now , my lord !
+I have been talking with a suitor here ,
+A man that languishes in your displeasure .
+
+Who is 't you mean ?
+
+Why , your lieutenant , Cassio . Good my lord ,
+If I have any grace or power to move you ,
+His present reconciliation take ;
+For if he be not one that truly loves you ,
+That errs in ignorance and not in cunning ,
+I have no judgment in an honest face .
+I prithee call him back .
+
+Went he hence now ?
+
+Ay , sooth ; so humbled ,
+That he hath left part of his grief with me ,
+To suffer with him . Good love , call him back .
+
+Not now , sweet Desdemona ; some other time .
+
+But shall 't be shortly ?
+
+The sooner , sweet , for you .
+
+Shall 't be to-night at supper ?
+
+No , not to-night .
+
+To-morrow dinner then ?
+
+I shall not dine at home ;
+I meet the captains at the citadel .
+
+Why then , to-morrow night ; or Tuesday morn ;
+On Tuesday noon , or night ; on Wednesday morn :
+I prithee name the time , but let it not
+Exceed three days : in faith , he's penitent ;
+And yet his trespass , in our common reason ,
+Save that they say , the wars must make examples
+Out of their best ,is not almost a fault
+To incur a private check . When shall he come ?
+Tell me , Othello : I wonder in my soul ,
+What you could ask me that I should deny ,
+Or stand so mammering on . What ! Michael Cassio ,
+That came a wooing with you , and so many a time ,
+When I have spoke of you dispraisingly ,
+Hath ta'en your part ; to have so much to do
+To bring him in ! Trust me , I could do much .
+
+Prithee , no more ; let him come when he will ;
+I will deny thee nothing .
+
+Why , this is not a boon ;
+'Tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves ,
+Or feed on nourishing dishes , or keep you warm ,
+Or sue to you to do a peculiar profit
+To your own person ; nay , when I have a suit
+Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed ,
+It shall be full of poise and difficult weight ,
+And fearful to be granted .
+
+I will deny thee nothing :
+Whereon , I do beseech thee , grant me this ,
+To leave me but a little to myself .
+
+Shall I deny you ? no : farewell , my lord .
+
+Farewell , my Desdemona : I'll come to thee straight .
+
+Emilia , come . Be as your fancies teach you ;
+Whate'er you be , I am obedient .
+
+
+Excellent wretch ! Perdition catch my soul
+But I do love thee ! and when I love thee not ,
+Chaos is come again .
+
+My noble lord ,
+
+What dost thou say , Iago ?
+
+Did Michael Cassio , when you woo'd my lady ,
+Know of your love ?
+
+He did , from first to last : why dost thou ask ?
+
+But for a satisfaction of my thought ;
+No further harm .
+
+Why of thy thought , Iago ?
+
+I did not think he had been acquainted with her .
+
+O ! yes ; and went between us very oft .
+
+Indeed !
+
+Indeed ! ay , indeed ; discern'st thou aught in that ?
+Is he not honest ?
+
+Honest , my lord ?
+
+Honest ! ay , honest .
+
+My lord , for aught I know .
+
+What dost thou think ?
+
+Think , my lord !
+
+Think , my lord !
+By heaven , he echoes me ,
+As if there were some monster in his thought
+Too hideous to be shown . Thou dost mean something :
+I heard thee say but now , thou lik'dst not that ,
+When Cassio left my wife ; what didst not like ?
+And when I told thee he was of my counsel
+In my whole course of wooing , thou criedst , 'Indeed !'
+And didst contract and purse thy brow together ,
+As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain
+Some horrible conceit . If thou dost love me ,
+Show me thy thought .
+
+My lord , you know I love you .
+
+I think thou dost ;
+And , for I know thou art full of love and honesty ,
+And weigh'st thy words before thou giv'st them breath ,
+Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more ;
+For such things in a false disloyal knave
+Are tricks of custom , but in a man that's just
+They are close delations , working from the heart
+That passion cannot rule .
+
+For Michael Cassio ,
+I dare be sworn I think that he is honest .
+
+I think so too .
+
+Men should be what they seem ;
+Or those that be not , would they might seem none !
+
+Certain , men should be what they seem .
+
+Why then , I think Cassio 's an honest man .
+
+Nay , yet there's more in this .
+I pray thee , speak to me as to thy thinkings ,
+As thou dost ruminate , and give thy worst of thoughts
+The worst of words .
+
+Good my lord , pardon me ;
+Though I am bound to every act of duty ,
+I am not bound to that all slaves are free to .
+Utter my thoughts ? Why , say they are vile and false ;
+As where's that palace whereinto foul things
+Sometimes intrude not ? who has a breast so pure
+But some uncleanly apprehensions
+Keep leets and law days , and in session sit
+With meditations lawful ?
+
+Thou dost conspire against thy friend , Iago ,
+If thou but think'st him wrong'd , and mak'st his ear
+A stranger to thy thoughts .
+
+I do beseech you ,
+Though I perchance am vicious in my guess ,
+As , I confess , it is my nature's plague
+To spy into abuses , and oft my jealousy
+Shapes faults that are not ,that your wisdom yet ,
+From one that so imperfectly conceits ,
+Would take no notice , nor build yourself a trouble
+Out of his scattering and unsure observance .
+It were not for your quiet nor your good ,
+Nor for my manhood , honesty , or wisdom ,
+To let you know my thoughts .
+
+What dost thou mean ?
+
+Good name in man and woman , dear my lord ,
+Is the immediate jewel of their souls :
+Who steals my purse steals trash ; 'tis something , nothing ;
+'Twas mine , 'tis his , and has been slave to thousands ;
+But he that filches from me my good name
+Robs me of that which not enriches him ,
+And makes me poor indeed .
+
+By heaven , I'll know thy thoughts .
+
+You cannot , if my heart were in your hand ;
+Nor shall not , whilst 'tis in my custody .
+
+Ha !
+
+O ! beware , my lord , of jealousy ;
+It is the green-ey'd monster which doth mock
+The meat it feeds on ; that cuckold lives in bliss
+Who , certain of his fate , loves not his wronger ;
+But , O ! what damned minutes tells he o'er
+Who dotes , yet doubts ; suspects , yet soundly loves !
+
+O misery !
+
+Poor and content is rich , and rich enough ,
+But riches fineless is as poor as winter
+To him that ever fears he shall be poor .
+Good heaven , the souls of all my tribe defend
+From jealousy !
+
+Why , why is this ?
+Think'st thou I'd make a life of jealousy ,
+To follow still the changes of the moon
+With fresh suspicions ? No ; to be once in doubt
+Is once to be resolved . Exchange me for a goat
+When I shall turn the business of my soul
+To such exsufflicate and blown surmises ,
+Matching thy inference . 'Tis not to make me jealous
+To say my wife is fair , feeds well , loves company ,
+Is free of speech , sings , plays , and dances well ;
+Where virtue is , these are more virtuous :
+Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw
+The smallest fear , or doubt of her revolt ;
+For she had eyes , and chose me . No , Iago ;
+I'll see before I doubt ; when I doubt , prove ;
+And , on the proof , there is no more but this ,
+Away at once with love or jealousy !
+
+I am glad of it ; for now I shall have reason
+To show the love and duty that I bear you
+With franker spirit ; therefore , as I am bound ,
+Receive it from me ; I speak not yet of proof .
+Look to your wife ; observe her well with Cassio ;
+Wear your eye thus , not jealous nor secure :
+I would not have your free and noble nature
+Out of self-bounty be abus'd ; look to 't :
+I know our country disposition well ;
+In Venice they do let heaven see the pranks
+They dare not show their husbands ; their best conscience
+Is not to leave 't undone , but keep 't unknown .
+
+Dost thou say so ?
+
+She did deceive her father , marrying you :
+And when she seem'd to shake and fear your looks ,
+She lov'd them most .
+
+And so she did .
+
+Why , go to , then ;
+She that so young could give out such a seeming ,
+To seel her father's eyes up close as oak ,
+He thought 'twas witchcraft ; but I am much to blame ;
+I humbly do beseech you of your pardon
+For too much loving you .
+
+I am bound to thee for ever .
+
+I see , this hath a little dash'd your spirits .
+
+Not a jot , not a jot .
+
+I' faith , I fear it has .
+I hope you will consider what is spoke
+Comes from my love . But , I do see you're mov'd ;
+I am to pray you not to strain my speech
+To grosser issues nor to larger reach
+Than to suspicion .
+
+I will not .
+
+Should you do so , my lord ,
+My speech should fall into such vile success
+As my thoughts aim not at . Cassio's my worthy friend
+My lord , I see you're mov'd .
+
+No , not much mov'd :
+I do not think but Desdemona's honest .
+
+Long live she so ! and long live you to think so !
+
+And , yet , how nature erring from itself ,
+
+Ay , there's the point : as , to be bold with you ,
+Not to affect many proposed matches
+Of her own clime , complexion , and degree ,
+Whereto , we see , in all things nature tends ;
+Foh ! one may smell in such , a will most rank ,
+Foul disproportion , thoughts unnatural .
+But pardon me ; I do not in position
+Distinctly speak of her , though I may fear
+Her will , recoiling to her better judgment ,
+May fail to match you with her country forms
+And happily repent .
+
+Farewell , farewell :
+If more thou dost perceive , let me know more ;
+Set on thy wife to observe . Leave me , Iago .
+
+My lord , I take my leave .
+
+
+Why did I marry ? This honest creature , doubtless ,
+Sees and knows more , much more , than he unfolds .
+
+My lord , I would I might entreat your honour
+To scan this thing no further ; leave it to time .
+Although 'tis fit that Cassio have his place ,
+For , sure he fills it up with great ability ,
+Yet , if you please to hold him off awhile ,
+You shall by that perceive him and his means :
+Note if your lady strain his entertainment
+With any strong or vehement importunity ;
+Much will be seen in that . In the mean time ,
+Let me be thought too busy in my fears ,
+As worthy cause I have to fear I am ,
+And hold her free , I do beseech your honour .
+
+Fear not my government .
+
+I once more take my leave .
+
+
+This fellow's of exceeding honesty ,
+And knows all qualities , with a learned spirit ,
+Of human dealings ; if I do prove her haggard ,
+Though that her jesses were my dear heartstrings ,
+I'd whistle her off and let her down the wind ,
+To prey at fortune . Haply , for I am black ,
+And have not those soft parts of conversation
+That chamberers have , or , for I am declin'd
+Into the vale of years yet that's not much
+She's gone , I am abus'd ; and my relief
+Must be to loathe her . O curse of marriage !
+That we can call these delicate creatures ours ,
+And not their appetites . I had rather be a toad ,
+And live upon the vapour of a dungeon ,
+Than keep a corner in the thing I love
+For others' uses . Yet , 'tis the plague of great ones ;
+Prerogativ'd are they less than the base ;
+'Tis destiny unshunnable , like death :
+Even then this forked plague is fated to us
+When we do quicken .
+Look ! where she comes .
+If she be false , O ! then heaven mocks itself .
+I'll not believe it .
+
+
+How now , my dear Othello !
+Your dinner and the generous islanders
+By you invited , do attend your presence .
+
+I am to blame .
+
+Why do you speak so faintly ?
+Are you not well ?
+
+I have a pain upon my forehead here .
+
+Faith , that's with watching ; 'twill away again :
+Let me but bind it hard , within this hour
+It will be well .
+
+Your napkin is too little :
+
+Let it alone . Come , I'll go in with you .
+
+I am very sorry that you are not well .
+
+
+I am glad I have found this napkin ;
+This was her first remembrance from the Moor ;
+My wayward husband hath a hundred times
+Woo'd me to steal it , but she so loves the token ,
+For he conjur'd her she should ever keep it ,
+That she reserves it evermore about her
+To kiss and talk to . I'll have the work ta'en out ,
+And give 't Iago :
+What he will do with it heaven knows , not I ;
+I nothing but to please his fantasy .
+
+
+How now ! what do you here alone ?
+
+Do not you chide ; I have a thing for you .
+
+A thing for me ? It is a common thing
+
+Ha !
+
+To have a foolish wife .
+
+O ! is that all ? What will you give me now
+For that same handkerchief ?
+
+What handkerchief ?
+
+What handkerchief !
+Why , that the Moor first gave to Desdemona :
+That which so often you did bid me steal .
+
+Hast stol'n it from her ?
+
+No , faith ; she let it drop by negligence ,
+And , to the advantage , I , being there , took't up .
+Look , here it is .
+
+A good wench ; give it me .
+
+What will you do with 't , that you have been so earnest
+To have me filch it ?
+
+Why , what's that to you ?
+
+
+If it be not for some purpose of import
+Give 't me again ; poor lady ! she'll run mad
+When she shall lack it .
+
+Be not acknown on 't ; I have use for it .
+Go , leave me .
+
+I will in Cassio's lodging lose this napkin ,
+And let him find it ; trifles light as air
+Are to the jealous confirmations strong
+As proofs of holy writ ; this may do something .
+The Moor already changes with my poison :
+Dangerous conceits are in their natures poisons ,
+Which at the first are scarce found to distaste ,
+But with a little act upon the blood ,
+Burn like the mines of sulphur . I did say so :
+Look ! where he comes !
+
+
+Not poppy , nor mandragora ,
+Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world ,
+Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep
+
+Which thou ow'dst yesterday .
+
+Ha ! ha ! false to me ?
+
+Why , how now , generall no more of that .
+
+Avaunt ! be gone ! thou hast set me on the rack ;
+I swear 'tis better to be much abus'd
+Than but to know 't a little .
+
+How now , my lord !
+
+What sense had I of her stol'n hours of lust ?
+I saw 't not , thought it not , it harm'd not me ;
+I slept the next night well , was free and merry ;
+I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips ;
+He that is robb'd , not wanting what is stol'n ,
+Let him not know 't and he's not robb'd at all .
+
+I am sorry to hear this .
+
+I had been happy , if the general camp ,
+Pioners and all , had tasted her sweet body ,
+So I had nothing known . O ! now , for ever
+Farewell the tranquil mind ; farewell content !
+Farewell the plumed troop and the big wars
+That make ambition virtue ! O , farewell !
+Farewell the neighing steed , and the shrill trump ,
+The spirit-stirring drum , the ear-piercing fife ,
+The royal banner , and all quality ,
+Pride , pomp , and circumstance of glorious war !
+And , O you mortal engines , whose rude throats
+The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit ,
+Farewell ! Othello's occupation's gone !
+
+Is it possible , my lord ?
+
+Villain , be sure thou prove my love a whore ,
+Be sure of it ; give me the ocular proof ;
+Or , by the worth of mine eternal soul ,
+Thou hadst been better have been born a dog
+Than answer my wak'd wrath .
+
+Is 't come to this ?
+
+Make me to see 't ; or , at the least , so prove it ,
+That the probation bear no hinge nor loop
+To hang a doubt on ; or woe upon thy life !
+
+My noble lord ,
+
+If thou dost slander her and torture me ,
+Never pray more ; abandon all remorse ;
+On horror's head horrors accumulate ;
+Do deeds to make heaven weep , all earth amaz'd ;
+For nothing canst thou to damnation add
+Greater than that .
+
+O grace ! O heaven forgive me !
+Are you a man ! have you a soul or sense ?
+God be wi' you ; take mine office . O wretched fool !
+That liv'st to make thine honesty a vice .
+O monstrous world ! Take note , take note , O world !
+To be direct and honest is not safe .
+I thank you for this profit , and , from hence
+I'll love no friend , sith love breeds such offence .
+
+Nay , stay ; thou shouldst be honest .
+
+I should be wise ; for honesty's a fool ,
+And loses that it works for .
+
+By the world ,
+I think my wife be honest and think she is not ;
+I think that thou art just and think thou art not .
+I'll have some proof . Her name , that was as fresh
+As Dian's visage , is now begrim'd and black
+As mine own face . If there be cords or knives ,
+Poison or fire or suffocating streams ,
+I'll not endure it . Would I were satisfied !
+
+I see , sir , you are eaten up with passion .
+I do repent me that I put it to you .
+You would be satisfied ?
+
+Would ! nay , I will .
+
+And may ; but how ? how satisfied , my lord ?
+Would you , the supervisor , grossly gape on ;
+Behold her tupp'd ?
+
+Death and damnation ! O !
+
+It were a tedious difficulty , I think ,
+To bring them to that prospect ; damn them then ,
+If ever mortal eyes do see them bolster
+More than their own ! What then ? how then ?
+What shall I say ? Where's satisfaction ?
+It is impossible you should see this ,
+Were they as prime as goats , as hot as monkeys ,
+As salt as wolves in pride , and fools as gross
+As ignorance made drunk ; but yet , I say ,
+If imputation , and strong circumstances ,
+Which lead directly to the door of truth ,
+Will give you satisfaction , you may have it .
+
+Give me a living reason she's disloyal .
+
+I do not like the office ;
+But , sith I am enter'd in this cause so far ,
+Prick'd to 't by foolish honesty and love ,
+I will go on . I lay with Cassio lately ;
+And , being troubled with a raging tooth ,
+I could not sleep .
+There are a kind of men so loose of soul
+That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs ;
+One of this kind is Cassio .
+In sleep I heard him say , 'Sweet Desdemona ,
+Let us be wary , let us hide our loves !'
+And then , sir , would he gripe and wring my hand ,
+Cry , 'O , sweet creature !' and then kiss me hard ,
+As if he pluck'd up kisses by the roots ,
+That grew upon my lips ; then laid his leg
+Over my thigh , and sigh'd , and kiss'd ; and then
+Cried , 'Cursed fate , that gave thee to the Moor !'
+
+O monstrous ! monstrous !
+
+Nay , this was but his dream .
+
+But this denoted a foregone conclusion :
+'Tis a shrewd doubt , though it be but a dream .
+
+And this may help to thicken other proofs
+That do demonstrate thinly .
+
+I'll tear her all to pieces .
+
+Nay , but be wise ; yet we see nothing done ;
+She may be honest yet . Tell me but this :
+Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief
+Spotted with strawberries in your wife's hand ?
+
+I gave her such a one ; 'twas my first gift .
+
+I know not that ; but such a handkerchief
+I am sure it was your wife's did I to-day
+See Cassio wipe his beard with .
+
+If it be that ,
+
+If it be that , or any that was hers ,
+It speaks against her with the other proofs .
+
+O ! that the slave had forty thousand lives ;
+One is too poor , too weak for my revenge .
+Now do I see 'tis true . Look here , Iago ;
+All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven :
+'Tis gone .
+Arise , black vengeance , from the hollow hell !
+Yield up , O love ! thy crown and hearted throne
+To tyrannous hate . Swell , bosom , with thy fraught ,
+For 'tis of aspics' tongues !
+
+Yet be content .
+
+O ! blood , blood , blood !
+
+Patience , I say ; your mind , perhaps , may change .
+
+Never , Iago . Like to the Pontick sea ,
+Whose icy current and compulsive course
+Ne'er feels retiring ebb , but keeps due on
+To the Propontic and the Hellespont ,
+Even so my bloody thoughts , with violent pace ,
+Shall ne'er look back , ne'er ebb to humble love ,
+Till that a capable and wide revenge
+Swallow them up .
+
+Now , by yond marble heaven ,
+In the due reverence of a sacred vow
+I here engage my words .
+
+Do not rise yet .
+
+Witness , you ever-burning lights above !
+You elements that clip us round about !
+Witness , that here Iago doth give up
+The execution of his wit , hands , heart ,
+To wrong'd Othello's service ! Let him command ,
+And to obey shall be in me remorse ,
+What bloody business ever .
+
+I greet thy love ,
+Not with vain thanks , but with acceptance bounteous ,
+And will upon the instant put thee to 't :
+Within these three days let me hear thee say
+That Cassio's not alive .
+
+My friend is dead ; 'tis done at your request :
+But let her live .
+
+Damn her , lewd minx ! O , damn her !
+Come , go with me apart ; I will withdraw
+To furnish me with some swift means of death
+For the fair devil . Now art thou my lieutenant .
+
+I am your own for ever .
+
+
+Do you know , sirrah , where Lieutenant Cassio lies ?
+
+I dare not say he lies any where .
+
+Why , man ?
+
+He is a soldier ; and for one to say a soldier lies , is stabbing .
+
+Go to ; where lodges he ?
+
+To tell you where he lodges is to tell you where I lie .
+
+Can anything be made of this ?
+
+I know not where he lodges , and for me to devise a lodging , and say he lies here or he lies there , were to lie in mine own throat .
+
+Can you inquire him out , and be edified by report ?
+
+I will catechize the world for him ; that is , make questions , and by them answer .
+
+Seek him , bid him come hither ; tell him I have moved my lord in his behalf , and hope all will be well .
+
+To do this is within the compass of man's wit , and therefore I will attempt the doing it .
+
+
+Where should I lose that handkerchief , Emilia ?
+
+I know not , madam .
+
+Believe me , I had rather have lost my purse
+Full of cruzadoes ; and , but my noble Moor
+Is true of mind , and made of no such baseness
+As jealous creatures are , it were enough
+To put him to ill thinking .
+
+Is he not jealous ?
+
+Who ! he ? I think the sun where he was born
+Drew all such humours from him .
+
+Look ! where he comes .
+
+I will not leave him now till Cassio
+Be call'd to him .
+
+How is 't with you , my lord ?
+
+Well , my good lady .
+
+O ! hardness to dissemble .
+How do you , Desdemona ?
+
+Well , my good lord .
+
+Give me your hand . This hand is moist , my lady .
+
+It yet has felt no age nor known no sorrow .
+
+This argues fruitfulness and liberal heart ;
+Hot , hot , and moist ; this hand of yours requires
+A sequester from liberty , fasting and prayer ,
+Much castigation , exercise devout ;
+For here's a young and sweating devil here ,
+That commonly rebels . 'Tis a good hand ,
+A frank one .
+
+You may , indeed , say so ;
+For 'twas that hand that gave away my heart .
+
+A liberal hand ; the hearts of old gave hands ,
+But our new heraldry is hands not hearts .
+
+I cannot speak of this . Come now , your promise .
+
+What promise , chuck ?
+
+I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with you .
+
+I have a salt and sorry rheum offends me .
+Lend me thy handkerchief .
+
+Here , my lord .
+
+That which I gave you .
+
+I have it not about me .
+
+Not ?
+
+No , indeed , my lord .
+
+That is a fault .
+That handkerchief
+Did an Egyptian to my mother give ;
+She was a charmer , and could almost read
+The thoughts of people ; she told her , while she kept it ,
+'Twould make her amiable and subdue my father
+Entirely to her love , but if she lost it
+Or made a gift of it , my father's eye
+Should hold her loathed , and his spirits should hunt
+After new fancies . She dying gave it me ;
+And bid me , when my fate would have me wive ,
+To give it her . I did so : and take heed on 't ;
+Make it a darling like your precious eye ;
+To lose't or give't away , were such perdition
+As nothing else could match .
+
+Is 't possible ?
+
+'Tis true ; there's magic in the web of it ;
+A sibyl , that had number'd in the world
+The sun to course two hundred compasses ,
+In her prophetic fury sew'd the work ;
+The worms were hallow'd that did breed the silk ,
+And it was dy'd in mummy which the skilful
+Conserv'd of maidens' hearts .
+
+Indeed ! is 't true ?
+
+Most veritable ; therefore look to 't well .
+
+Then would to heaven that I had never seen it !
+
+Ha ! wherefore ?
+
+Why do you speak so startingly and rash ?
+
+Is 't lost ? is 't gone ? speak , is it out o' the way ?
+
+Heaven bless us !
+
+Say you ?
+
+It is not lost : but what an if it were ?
+
+How !
+
+I say , it is not lost .
+
+Fetch 't , let me see 't .
+
+Why , so I can , sir , but I will not now .
+This is a trick to put me from my suit :
+Pray you let Cassio be receiv'd again .
+
+Fetch me the handkerchief ; my mind misgives .
+
+Come , come ;
+You'll never meet a more sufficient man .
+
+The handkerchief !
+
+I pray , talk me of Cassio .
+
+The handkerchief !
+
+A man that all his time
+Hath founded his good fortunes on your love ,
+Shar'd dangers with you ,
+
+The handkerchief !
+
+In sooth you are to blame .
+
+Away !
+
+
+Is not this man jealous ?
+
+I ne'er saw this before .
+Sure , there's some wonder in this handkerchief ;
+I am most unhappy in the loss of it .
+
+'Tis not a year or two shows us a man ;
+They are all but stomachs , and we all but food ;
+They eat us hungerly , and when they are full
+They belch us . Look you ! Cassio and my husband .
+
+
+There is no other way ; 'tis she must do 't :
+And , lo ! the happiness : go and importune her .
+
+How now , good Cassio ! what's the news with you ?
+
+Madam , my former suit : I do beseech you
+That by your virtuous means I may again
+Exist , and be a member of his love
+Whom I with all the office of my heart
+Entirely honour ; I would not be delay'd .
+If my offence be of such mortal kind
+That nor my service past , nor present sorrows ,
+Nor purpos'd merit in futurity ,
+Can ransom me into his love again ,
+But to know so must be my benefit ;
+So shall I clothe me in a forc'd content ,
+And shut myself up in some other course
+To fortune's alms .
+
+Alas ! thrice-gentle Cassio !
+My advocation is not now in tune ;
+My lord is not my lord ; nor should I know him ,
+Were he in favour as in humour alter'd .
+So help me every spirit sanctified ,
+As I have spoken for you all my best
+And stood within the blank of his displeasure
+For my free speech . You must awhile be patient ;
+What I can do I will , and more I will
+Than for myself I dare : let that suffice you .
+
+Is my lord angry ?
+
+He went hence but now ,
+And , certainly in strange unquietness .
+
+Can he be angry ? I have seen the cannon ,
+When it hath blown his ranks into the air ,
+And , like the devil , from his very arm
+Puff'd his own brother ; and can he be angry ?
+Something of moment then ; I will go meet him ;
+There's matter in 't indeed , if he be angry .
+
+I prithee , do so .
+
+Something , sure , of state ,
+Either from Venice , or some unhatch'd practice
+Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him ,
+Hath puddled his clear spirit ; and , in such cases
+Men's natures wrangle with inferior things ,
+Though great ones are their object . 'Tis even so ;
+For let our finger ache , and it indues
+Our other healthful members ev'n to that sense
+Of pain . Nay , we must think men are not gods ,
+Nor of them look for such observancy
+As fits the bridal . Beshrew me much , Emilia ,
+I was unhandsome warrior as I am
+Arraigning his unkindness with my soul ;
+But now I find I had suborn'd the witness ,
+And he's indicted falsely .
+
+Pray heaven it be state-matters , as you think ,
+And no conception , nor no jealous toy
+Concerning you .
+
+Alas the day ! I never gave him cause .
+
+But jealous souls will not be answer'd so ;
+They are not ever jealous for the cause ,
+But jealous for they are jealous ; 'tis a monster
+Begot upon itself , born on itself .
+
+Heaven keep that monster from Othello's mind !
+
+Lady , amen .
+
+I will go seek him . Cassio , walk hereabout ;
+If I do find him fit , I'll move your suit
+And seek to effect it to my uttermost .
+
+I humbly thank your ladyship .
+
+Save you , friend Cassio !
+
+What make you from home ?
+How is it with you , my most fair Bianca ?
+I' faith , sweet love , I was coming to your house .
+
+And I was going to your lodging , Cassio .
+What ! keep a week away ? seven days and nights ?
+Eight score eight hours ? and lovers' absent hours ,
+More tedious than the dial eight score times ?
+O weary reckoning !
+
+Pardon me , Bianca ,
+I have this while with leaden thoughts been press'd ,
+But I shall , in a more continuate time ,
+Strike off this score of absence . Sweet Bianca .
+
+Take me this work out .
+
+O Cassio ! whence came this ?
+This is some token from a newer friend ;
+To the felt absence now I feel a cause ;
+Is 't come to this ? Well , well .
+
+Go to , woman !
+Throw your vile guesses in the devil's teeth ,
+From whence you have them . You are jealous now
+That this is from some mistress , some remembrance :
+No , in good troth , Bianca .
+
+Why , whose is it ?
+
+I know not , sweet ; I found it in my chamber .
+I like the work well ; ere it be demanded ,
+As like enough it will ,I'd have it copied ;
+Take it and do 't ; and leave me for this time .
+
+Leave you ! wherefore ?
+
+I do attend here on the general ,
+And think it no addition nor my wish
+To have him see me woman'd .
+
+Why , I pray you ?
+
+Not that I love you not .
+
+But that you do not love me .
+I pray you , bring me on the way a little
+And say if I shall see you soon at night .
+
+'Tis but a little way that I can bring you ,
+For I attend here ; but I'll see you soon .
+
+'Tis very good ; I must be circumstanc'd .
+
+Will you think so ?
+
+Think so , Iago !
+
+What !
+To kiss in private ?
+
+An unauthoriz'd kiss .
+
+Or to be naked with her friend a-bed
+An hour or more , not meaning any harm ?
+
+Naked a-bed , Iago , and not mean harm ?
+It is hypocrisy against the devil :
+They that mean virtuously , and yet do so ,
+The devil their virtue tempts , and they tempt heaven .
+
+If they do nothing , 'tis a venial slip ;
+But if I give my wife a handkerchief ,
+
+What then ?
+
+Why , then , 'tis hers , my lord ; and , being hers ,
+She may , I think , bestow 't on any man .
+
+She is protectress of her honour too ;
+May she give that ?
+
+Her honour is an essence that's not seen ;
+They have it very oft that have it not :
+But for the handkerchief ,
+
+By heaven , I would most gladly have forgot it :
+Thou said'st ,O ! it comes o'er my memory ,
+As doth the raven o'er the infected house ,
+Boding to all ,he had my handkerchief .
+
+Ay , what of that ?
+
+That's not so good now .
+
+What ,
+If I had said I had seen him do you wrong ?
+Or heard him say , as knaves be such abroad ,
+Who having , by their own importunate suit ,
+Or voluntary dotage of some mistress ,
+Convinced or supplied them , cannot choose
+But they must blab .
+
+Hath he said any thing ?
+
+He hath , my lord ; but be you well assur'd ,
+No more than he'll unswear .
+
+What hath he said ?
+
+Faith , that he did I know not what he did .
+
+What ? what ?
+
+Lie
+
+With her ?
+
+With her , on her ; what you will .
+
+Lie with her ! lie on her ! We say , lie on her , when they belie her . Lie with her ! that's fulsome . Handkerchief ,confessions ,handkerchief ! To confess , and be hanged for his labour . First , to be hanged , and then to confess : I tremble at it . Nature would not invest herself in such shadowing passion without some instruction . It is not words that shake me thus . Pish ! Noses , ears , and lips . Is it possible ?Confess !Handkerchief !O devil !
+
+
+Work on ,
+My medicine , work ! Thus credulous fools are caught ;
+And many worthy and chaste dames even thus ,
+All guitless , meet reproach . What , ho ! my lord !
+My lord , I say ! Othello !
+
+How now , Cassio !
+
+What's the matter ?
+
+My lord is fallen into an epilepsy ;
+This is his second fit ; he had one yesterday .
+
+Rub him about the temples .
+
+No , forbear ;
+The lethargy must have his quiet course ,
+If not he foams at mouth , and by and by
+Breaks out to savage madness . Look ! he stirs ;
+Do you withdraw yourself a little while ,
+He will recover straight ; when he is gone ,
+I would on great occasion speak with you .
+
+How is it , general ? have you not hurt your head ?
+
+Dost thou mock me ?
+
+I mock you ! no , by heaven .
+Would you would bear your fortune like a man !
+
+A horned man's a monster and a beast .
+
+There's many a beast then , in a populous city ,
+And many a civil monster .
+
+Did he confess it ?
+
+Good sir , be a man ;
+Think every bearded fellow that's but yok'd
+May draw with you ; there's millions now alive
+That nightly lie in those unproper beds
+Which they dare swear peculiar ; your case is better .
+O ! 'tis the spite of hell , the fiend's arch-mock ,
+To lip a wanton in a secure couch ,
+And to suppose her chaste . No , let me know ;
+And knowing what I am I know what she shall be .
+
+O ! thou art wise ; 'tis certain .
+
+Stand you awhile apart ;
+Confine yourself but in a patient list .
+Whilst you were here o'erwhelmed with your grief ,
+A passion most unsuiting such a man ,
+Cassio came hither ; I shifted him away ,
+And laid good 'scuse upon your ecstasy ;
+Bade him anon return and here speak with me ;
+The which he promis'd . Do but encave yourself ,
+And mark the fleers , the gibes , and notable scorns ,
+That dwell in every region of his face ;
+For I will make him tell the tale anew ,
+Where , how , how oft , how long ago , and when
+He hath , and is again to cope your wife :
+I say , but mark his gesture . Marry , patience ;
+Or I shall say you are all in all in spleen ,
+And nothing of a man .
+
+Dost thou hear , Iago ?
+I will be found most cunning in my patience ;
+But dost thou hear ?most bloody .
+
+That's not amiss ;
+But yet keep time in all . Will you withdraw ?
+
+Now will I question Cassio of Bianca ,
+A housewife that by selling her desires
+Buys herself bread and clothes ; it is a creature
+That dotes on Cassio ; as 'tis the strumpet's plague
+To beguile many and be beguil'd by one .
+He , when he hears of her , cannot refrain
+From the excess of laughter . Here he comes :
+
+
+As he shall smile , Othello shall go mad ;
+And his unbookish jealousy must construe
+Poor Cassio's smiles , gestures , and light behaviour
+
+Quite in the wrong . How do you now , lieutenant ?
+
+The worser that you give me the addition
+Whose want even kills me .
+
+Ply Desdemona well , and you are sure on 't .
+
+
+Now , if this suit lay in Bianca's power ,
+How quickly should you speed !
+
+Alas ! poor caitiff !
+
+Look ! how he laughs already !
+
+I never knew woman love man so .
+
+Alas ! poor rogue , I think , i' faith , she loves me .
+
+Now he denies it faintly , and laughs it out .
+
+Do you hear , Cassio ?
+
+Now he importunes him
+To tell it o'er : go to ; well said , well said .
+
+She gives it out that you shall marry her ;
+Do you intend it ?
+
+Ha , ha , ha !
+
+Do you triumph , Roman ? do you triumph ?
+
+I marry her ! what ? a customer ? I prithee , bear some charity to my wit ; do not think it so unwholesome . Ha , ha , ha !
+
+So , so , so , so . They laugh that win .
+
+Faith , the cry goes that you shall marry her .
+
+Prithee , say true .
+
+I am a very villain else .
+
+Have you scored me ? Well .
+
+This is the monkey's own giving out : she is persuaded I will marry her , out of her own love and flattery , not out of my promise .
+
+Iago beckons me ; now he begins the story .
+
+She was here even now ; she haunts me in every place . I was the other day talking on the sea bank with certain Venetians , and thither come this bauble , and , by this hand , she falls me thus about my neck ;
+
+Crying , 'O dear Cassio !' as it were ; his gesture imports it .
+
+So hangs and lolls and weeps upon me ; so hales and pulls me ; ha , ha , ha !
+
+Now he tells how she plucked him to my chamber . O ! I see that nose of yours , but not the dog I shall throw it to .
+
+Well , I must leave her company .
+
+Before me ! look , where she comes .
+
+'Tis such another fitchew ! marry , a perfumed one .
+
+What do you mean by this haunting of me ?
+
+Let the devil and his dam haunt you ! What did you mean by that same handkerchief you gave me even now ? I was a fine fool to take it . I must take out the work ! A likely piece of work , that you should find it in your chamber , and not know who left it there ! This is some minx's token , and I must take out the work ! There , give it your hobby-horse ; wheresoever you had it I'll take out no work on 't .
+
+How now , my sweet Bianca ! how now , how now !
+
+By heaven , that should be my handkerchief !
+
+An you'll come to supper to-night , you may ; an you will not , come when you are next prepared for .
+
+
+After her , after her .
+
+Faith , I must ; she'll rail in the street else .
+
+Will you sup there ?
+
+Faith , I intend so .
+
+Well , I may chance to see you , for I would very fain speak with you .
+
+Prithee , come ; will you ?
+
+Go to ; say no more .
+
+
+How shall I murder him , Iago ?
+
+Did you perceive how he laughed at his vice ?
+
+O ! Iago !
+
+And did you see the handkerchief ?
+
+Was that mine ?
+
+Yours , by this hand ; and to see how he prizes the foolish woman your wife ! she gave it him , and he hath given it his whore .
+
+I would have him nine years a-killing .
+A fine woman ! a fair woman ! a sweet woman !
+
+Nay , you must forget that .
+
+Ay , let her rot , and perish , and be damned to-night ; for she shall not live . No , my heart is turned to stone ; I strike it , and it hurts my hand . O ! the world hath not a sweeter creature ; she might lie by an emperor's side and command him tasks .
+
+Nay , that's not your way .
+
+Hang her ! I do but say what she is . So delicate with her needle ! An admirable musician ! O , she will sing the savageness out of a bear . Of so high and plenteous wit and invention !
+
+She's the worse for all this .
+
+O ! a thousand , a thousand times . And then , of so gentle a condition !
+
+Ay , too gentle .
+
+Nay , that's certain ;but yet the pity of it , Iago ! O ! Iago , the pity of it , Iago !
+
+If you are so fond over her iniquity , give her patent to offend ; for , if it touch not you , it comes near nobody .
+
+I will chop her into messes . Cuckold me !
+
+O ! 'tis foul in her .
+
+With mine officer !
+
+That's fouler .
+
+Get me some poison , Iago ; this night : I'll not expostulate with her , lest her body and beauty unprovide my mind again . This night , Iago .
+
+Do it not with poison , strangle her in her bed , even the bed she hath contaminated .
+
+Good , good ; the justice of it pleases ; very good .
+
+And for Cassio , let me be his undertaker ; you shall hear more by midnight .
+
+Excellent good .
+
+What trumpet is that same ?
+
+Something from Venice , sure . 'Tis Lodovico ,
+Come from the duke ; and see , your wife is with him .
+
+
+God save you , worthy general !
+
+With all my heart , sir .
+
+The duke and senators of Venice greet you .
+
+
+I kiss the instrument of their pleasures .
+
+
+And what's the news , good cousin Lodovico ?
+
+I am very glad to see you , signior ;
+Welcome to Cyprus .
+
+I thank you . How does Lieutenant Cassio ?
+
+Lives , sir .
+
+Cousin , there's fall'n between him and my lord
+An unkind breach ; but you shall make all well .
+
+Are you sure of that ?
+
+My lord ?
+
+This fail you not to do , as you will
+
+He did not call ; he's busy in the paper .
+Is there division 'twixt my lord and Cassio ?
+
+A most unhappy one ; I would do much
+To atone them , for the love I bear to Cassio .
+
+Fire and brimstone !
+
+My lord ?
+
+Are you wise ?
+
+What ! is he angry ?
+
+May be the letter mov'd him ;
+For , as I think , they do command him home ,
+Deputing Cassio in his government .
+
+Trust me , I am glad on 't .
+
+Indeed !
+
+My lord ?
+
+I am glad to see you mad .
+
+Why , sweet Othello ?
+
+Devil !
+
+
+I have not deserved this .
+
+My lord , this would not be believ'd in Venice ,
+Though I should swear I saw 't : 'tis very much ;
+Make her amends , she weeps .
+
+O devil , devil !
+If that the earth could teem with woman's tears ,
+Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile .
+Out of my sight !
+
+I will not stay to offend you .
+
+
+Truly , an obedient lady ;
+I do beseech your lordship , call her back .
+
+Mistress !
+
+My lord ?
+
+What would you with her , sir ?
+
+Who , I , my lord ?
+
+Ay ; you did wish that I would make her turn :
+Sir , she can turn , and turn , and yet go on ,
+And turn again ; and she can weep , sir , weep ;
+And she's obedient , as you say , obedient ,
+Very obedient . Proceed you in your tears .
+Concerning this , sir ,O well-painted passion !
+I am commanded home . Get you away ;
+I'll send for you anon . Sir , I obey the mandate ,
+And will return to Venice . Hence ! avaunt !
+
+Cassio shall have my place . And , sir , to-night ,
+I do entreat that we may sup together ;
+You are welcome , sir , to Cyprus . Goats and monkeys !
+
+
+Is this the noble Moor whom our full senate
+Call all-in-all sufficient ? is this the noble nature
+Whom passion could not shake ? whose solid virtue
+The shot of accident nor dart of chance
+Could neither graze nor pierce ?
+
+He is much chang'd .
+
+Are his wits safe ? is he not light of brain ?
+
+He's that he is ; I may not breathe my censure .
+What he might be , if , what he might , he is not ,
+I would to heaven he were !
+
+What ! strike his wife !
+
+Faith , that was not so well ; yet would I knew
+That stroke would prove the worst !
+
+Is it his use ?
+Or did the letters work upon his blood ,
+And new-create this fault ?
+
+Alas , alas !
+It is not honesty in me to speak
+What I have seen and known . You shall observe him ,
+And his own courses will denote him so
+That I may save my speech . Do but go after
+And mark how he continues .
+
+I am sorry that I am deceiv'd in him .
+
+
+You have seen nothing , then ?
+
+Nor ever heard , nor ever did suspect .
+
+Yes , you have seen Cassio and her together .
+
+But then I saw no harm , and then I heard
+Each syllable that breath made up between them .
+
+What ! did they never whisper ?
+
+Never , my lord .
+
+Nor send you out o' the way ?
+
+Never .
+
+To fetch her fan , her gloves , her mask , nor nothing ?
+
+Never , my lord .
+
+That's strange .
+
+I durst , my lord , to wager she is honest ,
+Lay down my soul at stake : if you think other ,
+Remove your thought ; it doth abuse your bosom .
+If any wretch have put this in your head ,
+Let heaven requite it with the serpent's curse !
+For , if she be not honest , chaste , and true ,
+There's no man happy ; the purest of their wives
+Is foul as slander .
+
+Bid her come hither ; go .
+
+She says enough ; yet she's a simple bawd
+That cannot say as much . This is a subtle whore ,
+A closet lock and key of villanous secrets ;
+And yet she'll kneel and pray ; I have seen her do 't .
+
+
+My lord , what is your will ?
+
+Pray , chuck , come hither .
+
+What is your pleasure ?
+
+Let me see your eyes ;
+Look in my face .
+
+What horrible fancy's this ?
+
+Some of your function , mistress ;
+Leave procreants alone and shut the door ;
+Cough or cry 'hem' if any body come ;
+Your mystery , your mystery ; nay , dispatch .
+
+
+Upon my knees , what doth your speech import ?
+I understand a fury in your words ,
+But not the words .
+
+Why , what art thou ?
+
+Your wife , my lord ; your true
+And loyal wife .
+
+Come , swear it , damn thyself ;
+Lest , being like one of heaven , the devils themselves
+Should fear to seize thee ; therefore be double-damn'd ;
+Swear thou art honest .
+
+Heaven doth truly know it .
+
+Heaven truly knows that thou art false as hell .
+
+To whom , my lord ? with whom ? how am I false ?
+
+Ah ! Desdemona ; away , away , away !
+
+Alas , the heavy day !Why do you weep ?
+Am I the motive of these tears , my lord ?
+If haply you my father do suspect
+An instrument of this your calling back ,
+Lay not your blame on me ; if you have lost him ,
+Why , I have lost him too .
+
+Had it pleas'd heaven
+To try me with affliction , had he rain'd
+All kinds of sores , and shames , on my bare head ,
+Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips ,
+Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes ,
+I should have found in some part of my soul
+A drop of patience ; but , alas ! to make me
+The fixed figure for the time of scorn
+To point his slow and moving finger at ;
+Yet could I bear that too ; well , very well :
+But there , where I have garner'd up my heart ,
+Where either I must live or bear no life ,
+The fountain from the which my current runs
+Or else dries up ; to be discarded thence !
+Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads
+To knot and gender in ! Turn thy complexion there ,
+Patience , thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubin ;
+Ay , there , look grim as hell !
+
+I hope my noble lord esteems me honest .
+
+O ! ay ; as summer flies are in the shambles ,
+That quicken even with blowing . O thou weed !
+Who art so lovely fair and smell'st so sweet
+That the sense aches at thee , would thou hadst ne'er been born .
+
+Alas ! what ignorant sin have I committed ?
+
+Was this fair paper , this most goodly book ,
+Made to write 'whore' upon ? What committed !
+Committed ! O thou public commoner !
+I should make very forges of my cheeks ,
+That would to cinders burn up modesty ,
+Did I but speak thy deeds . What committed !
+Heaven stops the nose at it and the moon winks ,
+The bawdy wind that kisses all it meets
+Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth ,
+And will not hear it . What committed !
+Impudent strumpet !
+
+By heaven , you do me wrong .
+
+Are not you a strumpet ?
+
+No , as I am a Christian .
+If to preserve this vessel for my lord
+From any other foul unlawful touch
+Be not to be a strumpet , I am none .
+
+What ! not a whore ?
+
+No , as I shall be sav'd .
+
+Is it possible ?
+
+O ! heaven forgive us .
+
+I cry you mercy , then ;
+I took you for that cunning whore of Venice
+That married with Othello . You , mistress ,
+That have the office opposite to Saint Peter ,
+And keep the gate of hell !
+
+
+You , you , ay , you !
+We have done our course ; there's money for your pains .
+I pray you , turn the key and keep our counsel .
+
+Alas ! what does this gentleman conceive ?
+How do you , madam ? how do you , my good lady ?
+
+Faith , half asleep .
+
+Good madam , what's the matter with my lord ?
+
+With who ?
+
+Why , with my lord , madam .
+
+Who is thy lord ?
+
+He that is yours , sweet lady .
+
+I have none ; do not talk to me , Emilia ;
+I cannot weep , nor answer have I none ,
+But what should go by water . Prithee , to-night
+Lay on my bed my wedding sheets : remember :
+And call thy husband hither .
+
+Here is a change indeed !
+
+
+'Tis meet I should be us'd so , very meet .
+How have I been behav'd , that he might stick
+The small'st opinion on my least misuse ?
+
+
+What is your pleasure , madam ? How is it with you ?
+
+I cannot tell . Those that do teach young babes
+Do it with gentle means and easy tasks ;
+He might have chid me so ; for , in good faith ,
+I am a child to chiding .
+
+What's the matter , lady ?
+
+Alas ! Iago , my lord hath so bewhor'd her ,
+Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her ,
+As true hearts cannot bear .
+
+Am I that name , Iago ?
+
+What name , fair lady ?
+
+Such as she says my lord did say I was .
+
+He call'd her whore ; a beggar in his drink
+Could not have laid such terms upon his callat .
+
+Why did he so ?
+
+I do not know ; I am sure I am none such .
+
+Do not weep , do not weep . Alas the day !
+
+Has she forsook so many noble matches ,
+Her father and her country and her friends ,
+To be call'd whore ? would it not make one weep ?
+
+It is my wretched fortune .
+
+Beshrew him for it !
+How comes this trick upon him ?
+
+Nay , heaven doth know .
+
+I will be hang'd , if some eternal villain ,
+Some busy and insinuating rogue ,
+Some cogging cozening slave , to get some office ,
+Have not devis'd this slander ; I'll be hang'd else .
+
+Fie ! there is no such man ; it is impossible .
+
+If any such there be , heaven pardon him !
+
+A halter pardon him , and hell gnaw his bones !
+Why should he call her whore ? who keeps her company ?
+What place ? what time ? what form ? what likelihood ?
+The Moor's abus'd by some most villanous knave ,
+Some base notorious knave , some scurvy fellow .
+O heaven ! that such companions thou'dst unfold ,
+And put in every honest hand a whip
+To lash the rascals naked through the world ,
+Even from the east to the west !
+
+Speak within door .
+
+O ! fie upon them . Some such squire he was
+That turn'd your wit the seamy side without ,
+And made you to suspect me with the Moor .
+
+You are a fool ; go to .
+
+O good Iago ,
+What shall I do to win my lord again ?
+Good friend , go to him ; for , by this light of heaven ,
+I know not how I lost him . Here I kneel :
+If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love ,
+Either in discourse of thought or actual deed ,
+Or that mine eyes , mine ears , or any sense ,
+Delighted them in any other form ;
+Or that I do not yet , and ever did ,
+And ever will , though he do shake me off
+To beggarly divorcement , love him dearly ,
+Comfort forswear me ! Unkindness may do much ;
+And his unkindness may defeat my life ,
+But never taint my love . I cannot say 'whore :'
+It does abhor me now I speak the word ;
+To do the act that might the addition earn
+Not the world's mass of vanity could make me .
+
+I pray you be content , 'tis but his humour ;
+The business of the state does him offence ,
+And he does chide with you .
+
+If 'twere no other ,
+
+'Tis but so , I warrant .
+
+Hark ! how these instruments summon to supper ;
+The messengers of Venice stay the meat :
+Go in , and weep not ; all things shall be well .
+
+
+How now , Roderigo !
+
+I do not find that thou dealest justly with me .
+
+What in the contrary ?
+
+Every day thou daffest me with some device , Iago ; and rather , as it seems to me now , keepest from me all conveniency , than suppliest me with the least advantage of hope . I will indeed no longer endure it , nor am I yet persuaded to put up in peace what already I have foolishly suffered .
+
+Will you hear me , Roderigo ?
+
+Faith , I have heard too much , for your words and performances are no kin together .
+
+You charge me most unjustly .
+
+With nought but truth . I have wasted myself out of my means . The jewels you have had from me to deliver to Desdemona would half have corrupted a votarist ; you have told me she has received them , and returned me expectations and comforts of sudden respect and acquaintance , but I find none .
+
+Well ; go to ; very well .
+
+Very well ! go to ! I cannot go to , man ; nor 'tis not very well : by this hand , I say , it is very scurvy , and begin to find myself fobbed in it .
+
+Very well .
+
+I tell you 'tis not very well . I will make myself known to Desdemona ; if she will return me my jewels , I will give over my suit and repent my unlawful solicitation ; if not , assure yourself I will seek satisfaction of you .
+
+You have said now .
+
+Ay , and said nothing , but what I protest intendment of doing .
+
+Why , now I see there's mettle in thee , and even from this instant do build on thee a better opinion than ever before . Give me thy hand , Roderigo ; thou hast taken against me a most just exception ; but yet , I protest , I have dealt most directly in thy affair .
+
+It hath not appeared .
+
+I grant indeed it hath not appeared , and your suspicion is not without wit and judgment . But , Roderigo , if thou hast that in thee indeed , which I have greater reason to believe now than ever , I mean purpose , courage , and valour , this night show it : if thou the next night following enjoy not Desdemona , take me from this world with treachery and devise engines for my life .
+
+Well , what is it ? is it within reason and compass ?
+
+Sir , there is especial commission come from Venice to depute Cassio in Othello's place .
+
+Is that true ? why , then Othello and Desdemona return again to Venice .
+
+O , no ! he goes into Mauritania , and takes away with him the fair Desdemona , unless his abode be lingered here by some accident ; wherein none can be so determinate as the removing of Cassio .
+
+How do you mean , removing of him ?
+
+Why , by making him uncapable of Othello's place ; knocking out his brains .
+
+And that you would have me do ?
+
+Ay ; if you dare do yourself a profit and a right . He sups to-night with a harlotry , and thither will I go to him ; he knows not yet of his honourable fortune . If you will watch his going thence ,which I will fashion to fall out between twelve and one ,you may take him at your pleasure ; I will be near to second your attempt , and he shall fall between us . Come , stand not amazed at it , but go along with me ; I will show you such a necessity in his death that you shall think yourself bound to put it on him . It is now high supper-time , and the night grows to waste ; about it .
+
+I will hear further reason for this .
+
+And you shall be satisfied .
+
+
+I do beseech you , sir , trouble yourself no further .
+
+O ! pardon me ; 'twill do me good to walk .
+
+Madam , good night ; I humbly thank your ladyship .
+
+Your honour is most welcome .
+
+Will you walk , sir ?
+O ! Desdemona ,
+
+My lord ?
+
+Get you to bed on the instant ; I will be returned forthwith ; dismiss your attendant there ; look it be done .
+
+I will , my lord .
+
+
+How goes it now ? he looks gentler than he did .
+
+He says he will return incontinent ;
+He hath commanded me to go to bed ,
+And bade me to dismiss you .
+
+Dismiss me !
+
+It was his bidding ; therefore , good Emilia ,
+Give me my nightly wearing , and adieu :
+We must not now displease him .
+
+I would you had never seen him .
+
+So would not I ; my love doth so approve him ,
+That even his stubbornness , his checks and frowns ,
+Prithee , unpin me ,have grace and favour in them .
+
+I have laid those sheets you bade me on the bed .
+
+All's one . Good faith ! how foolish are our minds !
+If I do die before thee , prithee , shroud me
+In one of those same sheets .
+
+Come , come , you talk .
+
+My mother had a maid call'd Barbara ;
+She was in love , and he she lov'd prov'd mad
+And did forsake her ; she had a song of 'willow ;'
+An old thing 'twas , but it express'd her fortune ,
+And she died singing it ; that song to-night
+Will not go from my mind ; I have much to do
+But to go hang my head all at one side ,
+And sing it like poor Barbara . Prithee , dispatch .
+
+Shall I go fetch your night-gown ?
+
+No , unpin me here .
+This Lodovico is a proper man .
+
+A very handsome man .
+
+He speaks well .
+
+I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip .
+
+
+The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree ,
+Sing all a green willow ;
+Her hand on her bosom , her head on her knee ,
+Sing willow , willow , willow :
+The fresh streams ran by her , and murmur'd her moans ;
+Sing willow , willow , willow :
+Her salt tears fell from her , and soften'd the stones ;
+
+Lay by these :
+
+Sing willow , willow , willow :
+
+Prithee , hie thee ; he'll come anon .
+
+Sing all a green willow must be my garland .
+Let nobody blame him , his scorn I approve ,
+
+Nay , that's not next . Hark ! who is it that knocks ?
+
+It is the wind .
+
+
+I call'd my love false love ; but what said he then ?
+Sing willow , willow , willow :
+If I court moe women , you'll couch with moe men .
+
+So , get thee gone ; good night . Mine eyes do itch ;
+Doth that bode weeping ?
+
+'Tis neither here nor there .
+
+I have heard it said so . O ! these men , these men !
+Dost thou in conscience think , tell me , Emilia ,
+That there be women do abuse their husbands
+In such gross kind ?
+
+There be some such , no question .
+
+Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world ?
+
+Why , would not you ?
+
+No , by this heavenly light !
+
+Nor I neither by this heavenly light ; might do 't as well i' the dark .
+
+Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world ?
+
+The world is a huge thing ; 'tis a great price
+For a small vice .
+
+In troth , I think thou wouldst not .
+
+In troth , I think I should , and undo 't when I had done . Marry , I would not do such a thing for a joint-ring , nor measures of lawn , nor for gowns , petticoats , nor caps , nor any petty exhibition ; but for the whole world , who would not make her husband a cuckold to make him a monarch ? I should venture purgatory for 't .
+
+Beshrew me , if I would do such a wrong
+For the whole world .
+
+Why , the wrong is but a wrong i' the world ; and having the world for your labour , 'tis a wrong in your own world , and you might quickly make it right .
+
+I do not think there is any such woman .
+
+Yes , a dozen ; and as many to the vantage , as would store the world they played for .
+But I do think it is their husbands' faults
+If wives do fall . Say that they slack their duties ,
+And pour our treasures into foreign laps ,
+Or else break out in peevish jealousies ,
+Throwing restraint upon us ; or , say they strike us ,
+Or scant our former having in despite ;
+Why , we have galls , and though we have some grace ,
+Yet have we some revenge . Let husbands know
+Their wives have sense like them ; they see and smell ,
+And have their palates both for sweet and sour ,
+As husbands have . What is it that they do
+When they change us for others ? Is it sport ?
+I think it is ; and doth affection breed it ?
+I think it doth : is 't frailty that thus errs ?
+It is so too ; and have not we affections ,
+Desires for sport , and frailty , as men have ?
+Then , let them use us well ; else let them know ,
+The ills we do , their ills instruct us so .
+
+Good night , good night ; heaven me such usage send ,
+Not to pick bad from bad , but by bad mend !
+
+Here , stand behind this bulk ; straight will he come :
+Wear thy good rapier bare , and put it home .
+Quick , quick ; fear nothing ; I'll be at thy elbow .
+It makes us , or it mars us ; think on that ,
+And fix most firm thy resolution .
+
+Be near at hand ; I may miscarry in 't .
+
+Here , at thy hand : be bold , and take thy stand .
+
+
+I have no great devotion to the deed ;
+And yet he has given me satisfying reasons :
+'Tis but a man gone : forth , my sword ; he dies .
+
+I have rubb'd this young quat almost to the sense ,
+And he grows angry . Now , whether he kill Cassio ,
+Or Cassio him , or each do kill the other ,
+Every way makes my gain : live Roderigo ,
+He calls me to a restitution large
+Of gold and jewels that I bobb'd from him ,
+As gifts to Desdemona ;
+It must not be : if Cassio do remain ,
+He hath a daily beauty in his life
+That makes me ugly ; and , besides , the Moor
+May unfold me to him ; there stand I in much peril .
+No , he must die . But so ; I hear him coming .
+
+
+I know his gait ; 'tis he . Villain , thou diest !
+
+
+That thrust had been mine enemy indeed
+But that my coat is better than thou know'st ;
+I will make proof of thine .
+
+
+O ! I am slain .
+
+
+I am maim'd for ever . Help , ho ! murder ! murder !
+
+The voice of Cassio : Iago keeps his word .
+
+O ! villain that I am !
+
+It is e'en so .
+
+O , help , ho ! light ! a surgeon !
+
+'Tis he : O brave Iago , honest and just !
+That hast such noble sense of thy friend's wrong ;
+Thou teachest me . Minion , your dear lies dead ,
+And your unblest fate hies ; strumpet , I come !
+Forth of my heart those charms , thine eyes , are blotted ;
+Thy bed lust-stain'd shall with lust's blood be spotted .
+
+What ho ! no watch ? no passage ? murder ! murder !
+
+'Tis some mischance ; the cry is very direful .
+
+O , help !
+
+Hark !
+
+O wretched villain !
+
+Two or three groan : it is a heavy night ;
+These may be counterfeits ; let's think 't unsafe
+To come in to the cry without more help .
+
+Nobody come ? then shall I bleed to death .
+
+Hark !
+
+
+Here's one comes in his shirt , with light and weapons .
+
+Who's there ? whose noise is this that cries on murder ?
+
+We do not know .
+
+Did not you hear a cry ?
+
+Here , here ! for heaven's sake , help me .
+
+What's the matter ?
+
+This is Othello's ancient , as I take it .
+
+The same indeed ; a very valiant fellow .
+
+What are you here that cry so grievously ?
+
+Iago ? O ! I am spoil'd , undone by villains !
+Give me some help .
+
+O me , lieutenant ! what villains have done this ?
+
+I think that one of them is hereabout ,
+And cannot make away .
+
+O treacherous villains !
+
+
+What are you there ? come in , and give some help .
+
+O ! help me here .
+
+That's one of them .
+
+O murderous slave ! O villain !
+
+
+O damn'd Iago ! O inhuman dog !
+
+Kill men i' the dark ! Where be these bloody thieves ?
+How silent is this town ! Ho ! murder ! murder !
+What may you be ? are you of good or evil ?
+
+As you shall prove us , praise us .
+
+Signior Lodovico ?
+
+He , sir .
+
+I cry you mercy . Here's Cassio hurt by villains .
+
+Cassio !
+
+How is it , brother ?
+
+My leg is cut in two .
+
+Marry , heaven forbid ,
+Light , gentlemen ; I'll bind it with my shirt .
+
+
+What is the matter , ho ? who is 't that cried ?
+
+Who is 't that cried !
+
+O my dear Cassio ! my sweet Cassio !
+O Cassio , Cassio , Cassio !
+
+O notable strumpet ! Cassio , may you suspect
+Who they should be that have thus mangled you ?
+
+No .
+
+I am sorry to find you thus ; I have been to seek you .
+
+Lend me a garter . So . O ! for a chair ,
+To bear him easily hence !
+
+Alas ! he faints ! O Cassio , Cassio , Cassio !
+
+Gentlemen all , I do suspect this trash
+To be a party in this injury .
+Patience awhile , good Cassio . Come , come .
+Lend me a light . Know we this face , or no ?
+Alas ! my friend and my dear countryman ,
+Roderigo ? no : yes , sure , O heaven ! Roderigo .
+
+What ! of Venice ?
+
+Even he , sir : did you know him ?
+
+Know him ! ay .
+
+Signior Gratiano ? I cry you gentle pardon ;
+These bloody accidents must excuse my manners ,
+That so neglected you .
+
+I am glad to see you .
+
+How do you , Cassio ? O ! a chair , a chair !
+
+Roderigo !
+
+
+He , he , 'tis he .O ! that's well said ; the chair :
+Some good men bear him carefully from hence ;
+I'll fetch the general's surgeon .
+
+For you , mistress ,
+Save you your labour . He that lies slain here , Cassio ,
+Was my dear friend . What malice was between you ?
+
+None in the world ; nor do I know the man .
+
+What ! look you pale ? O ! bear him out o' the air
+
+Stay you , good gentlemen . Look you pale , mistress ?
+Do you perceive the gastness of her eye ?
+Nay , if you stare , we shall hear more anon .
+Behold her well ; I pray you , look upon her :
+Do you see , gentlemen ? nay , guiltiness will speak
+Though tongues were out of use .
+
+
+'Las ! what's the matter ? what's the matter , husband ?
+
+Cassio hath here been set on in the dark
+By Roderigo and fellows that are 'scap'd :
+He's almost slain , and Roderigo dead .
+
+Alas ! good gentleman ; alas ! good Cassio !
+
+This is the fruit of whoring . Prithee , Emilia ,
+Go know of Cassio where he supp'd to-night .
+What ! do you shake at that ?
+
+He supp'd at my house ; but I therefore shake not .
+
+O ! did he so ? I charge you , go with me .
+
+Fie , fie upon thee , strumpet !
+
+I am no strumpet , but of life as honest
+As you that thus abuse me .
+
+As I ! foh ! fie upon thee !
+
+Kind gentlemen , let's go see poor Cassio dress'd .
+Come , mistress , you must tell 's another tale .
+Emilia , run you to the citadel ,
+And tell my lord and lady what hath happ'd .
+Will you go on afore ?
+
+This is the night
+That either makes me or fordoes me quite .
+
+
+It is the cause , it is the cause , my soul ;
+Let me not name it to you , you chaste stars !
+It is the cause . Yet I'll not shed her blood ,
+Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow ,
+And smooth as monumental alabaster .
+Yet she must die , else she'll betray more men .
+Put out the light , and then put out the light :
+If I quench thee , thou flaming minister ,
+I can again thy former light restore ,
+Should I repent me ; but once put out thy light ,
+Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature ,
+I know not where is that Promethean heat
+That can thy light relume . When I have pluck'd the rose ,
+I cannot give it vital growth again ,
+It needs must wither : I'll smell it on the tree .
+
+O balmy breath , that dost almost persuade
+Justice to break her sword ! One more , one more .
+Be thus when thou art dead , and I will kill thee ,
+And love thee after . One more , and this the last :
+So sweet was ne'er so fatal . I must weep ,
+But they are cruel tears ; this sorrow's heavenly ,
+It strikes where it doth love . She wakes .
+
+Who's there ? Othello ?
+
+Ay , Desdemona .
+
+Will you come to bed , my lord ?
+
+Have you pray'd to-night , Desdemona ?
+
+Ay , my lord .
+
+If you bethink yourself of any crime
+Unreconcil'd as yet to heaven and grace ,
+Solicit for it straight .
+
+Alas ! my lord , what may you mean by that ?
+
+Well , do it , and be brief ; I will walk by :
+I would not kill thy unprepared spirit ;
+No ; heaven forfend ! I would not kill thy soul .
+
+Talk you of killing ?
+
+Ay , I do .
+
+Then heaven
+Have mercy on me !
+
+Amen ! with all my heart .
+
+If you say so , I hope you will not kill me .
+
+Hum !
+
+And yet I fear you ; for you are fatal then
+When your eyes roll so . Why I should fear I know not ,
+Since guiltiness I know not ; but yet I feel I fear .
+
+Think on thy sins .
+
+They are loves I bear to you .
+
+Ay , and for that thou diest .
+
+That death's unnatural that kills for loving .
+Alas ! why gnaw you so your nether lip ?
+Some bloody passion shakes your very frame ;
+These are portents , but yet , I hope , I hope
+They do not point on me .
+
+Peace , and be still !
+
+I will so . What's the matter ?
+
+That handkerchief which I so lov'd and gave thee
+Thou gav'st to Cassio .
+
+No , by my life and soul !
+Send for the man and ask him .
+
+Sweet soul , take heed ,
+Take heed of perjury ; thou'rt on thy death-bed .
+
+Ay , but not yet to die .
+
+Yes , presently ;
+Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin ;
+For to deny each article with oath
+Cannot remove nor choke the strong conception
+That I do groan withal . Thou art to die .
+
+Then Lord have mercy on me !
+
+I say , amen .
+
+And have you mercy too ! I never did
+Offend you in my life ; never lov'd Cassio
+But with such general warranty of heaven
+As I might love ; I never gave him token .
+
+By heaven , I saw my handkerchief in 's hand .
+O perjur'd woman ! thou dost stone my heart ,
+And mak'st me call what I intend to do
+A murder , which I thought a sacrifice :
+I saw the handkerchief .
+
+He found it then ;
+I never gave it him . Send for him hither ;
+Let him confess a truth .
+
+He hath confess'd .
+
+What , my lord ?
+
+That he hath us'd thee .
+
+How ? unlawfully ?
+
+Ay .
+
+He will not say so .
+
+No ; his mouth is stopp'd :
+Honest Iago hath ta'en order for 't .
+
+O ! my fear interprets . What ! is he dead ?
+
+Had all his hairs been lives , my great revenge
+Had stomach for them all .
+
+Alas ! he is betray'd and I undone .
+
+Out , strumpet ! Weep'st thou for him to my face ?
+
+O ! banish me , my lord , but kill me not !
+
+Down , strumpet !
+
+Kill me to-morrow ; let me live to-night !
+
+Nay , if you strive ,
+
+But half an hour !
+
+Being done , there is no pause .
+
+But while I say one prayer !
+
+It is too late .
+
+
+My lord , my lord ! what , ho ! my lord , my lord !
+
+What noise is this ? Not dead ? not yet quite dead ?
+I that am cruel am yet merciful ;
+I would not have thee linger in thy pain .
+So , so .
+
+What , ho ! my lord , my lord !
+
+Who's there ?
+
+O ! good my lord , I would speak a word with you !
+
+Yes ; 'tis Emilia : by and by . She's dead .
+'Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death ;
+The noise was high . Ha ! no more moving ?
+Still as the grave . Shall she come in ? Were 't good ?
+I think she stirs again : no . What's best to do ?
+If she come in she'll sure speak to my wife :
+My wife ! my wife ! what wife ? I have no wife :
+O , insupportable ! O heavy hour !
+Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse
+Of sun and moon , and that the affrighted globe
+Should yawn at alteration .
+
+I do beseech you
+That I may speak with you , O ! good my lord .
+
+I had forgot thee : O ! come in , Emilia :
+Soft , by and by : let me the curtains draw .
+Where art thou ?
+
+
+What's the matter with thee now ?
+
+O ! my good lord , yonder's foul murder done .
+
+What ! now ?
+
+But now , my lord .
+
+It is the very error of the moon ;
+She comes more near the earth than she was wont ,
+And makes men mad .
+
+Cassio , my lord , has kill'd a young Venetian
+Call'd Roderigo .
+
+Roderigo kill'd !
+And Cassio kill'd ?
+
+No , Cassio is not kill'd .
+
+Not Cassio kill'd ! then murder's out of tune ,
+And sweet revenge grows harsh .
+
+O ! falsely , falsely murder'd .
+
+Alas ! what cry is that ?
+
+That ! what ?
+
+Out , and alas ! that was my lady's voice :
+Help ! Help , ho ! help ! O lady , speak again !
+Sweet Desdemona ! O ! sweet mistress , speak .
+
+A guiltless death I die .
+
+O ! who hath done this deed ?
+
+Nobody ; I myself ; farewell :
+Commend me to my kind lord . O ! farewell !
+
+
+Why , how should she be murder'd ?
+
+Alas ! who knows ?
+
+You heard her say herself it was not I .
+
+She said so ; I must needs report the truth .
+
+She's like a liar gone to burning hell ;
+'Twas I that kill'd her .
+
+O ! the more angel she ,
+And you the blacker devil .
+
+She turn'd to folly , and she was a whore .
+
+Thou dost belie her , and thou art a devil .
+
+She was false as water .
+
+Thou art rash as fire to say
+That she was false : O ! she was heavenly true .
+
+Cassio did tup her ; ask thy husband else .
+O ! I were damn'd beneath all depth in bell
+But that I did proceed upon just grounds
+To this extremity . Thy husband knew it all .
+
+My husband !
+
+Thy husband .
+
+That she was false to wedlock ?
+
+Ay , with Cassio . Nay , had she been true ,
+If heaven would make me such another world
+Of one entire and perfect chrysolite ,
+I'd not have sold her for it .
+
+My husband !
+
+Ay , 'twas he that told me first :
+An honest man he is , and hates the slime
+That sticks on filthy deeds .
+
+My husband !
+
+What needs this iterance , woman ? I say thy husband .
+
+O mistress ! villany hath made mocks with love .
+My husband say that she was false !
+
+He , woman ;
+I say , thy husband : dost understand the word ?
+My friend , thy husband , honest , honest Iago .
+
+If he say so , may his pernicious soul
+Rot half a grain a day ! he lies to the heart :
+She was too fond of her most filthy bargain .
+
+Ha !
+
+Do thy worst :
+This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven
+Than thou wast worthy her .
+
+Peace ! you were best .
+
+Thou hast not half the power to do me harm
+As I have to be hurt . O gull ! O dolt !
+As ignorant as dirt ! thou hast done a deed ,
+I care not for thy sword ; I'll make thee known ,
+Though I lost twenty lives . Help ! help , ho ! help !
+The Moor has kill'd my mistress ! Murder ! murder !
+
+
+What is the matter ? How now , general !
+
+O ! are you come , Iago ? you have done well ,
+That men must lay their murders on your neck .
+
+What is the matter ?
+
+Disprove this villain if thou be'st a man :
+He says thou told'st him that his wife was false .
+I know thou didst not , thou'rt not such a villain ,
+Speak , for my heart is full .
+
+I told him what I thought , and told no more
+Than what he found himself was apt and true .
+
+But did you ever tell him she was false ?
+
+I did .
+
+You told a lie , an odious damned lie ;
+Upon my soul , a lie , a wicked lie .
+She false with Cassio ! Did you say with Cassio ?
+
+With Cassio , mistress . Go to , charm your tongue .
+
+I will not charm my tongue ; I am bound to speak .
+My mistress here lies murder'd in her bed .
+
+O heavens forfend !
+
+And your reports have set the murder on .
+
+Nay , stare not , masters ; it is true , indeed .
+
+'Tis a strange truth .
+
+O monstrous act !
+
+Villany ! villany ! villany !
+I think upon 't , I think , I smell 't ; O villany !
+I thought so then ; I'll kill myself for grief .
+O ! villany , villany !
+
+What ! are you mad ? I charge you , get you home .
+
+Good gentlemen , let me have leave to speak :
+'Tis proper I obey him , but not now .
+Perchance , Iago , I will ne'er go home .
+
+O ! O ! O !
+
+
+Nay , lay thee down and roar ,
+For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent
+That e'er did lift up eye .
+
+O ! she was foul .
+I scarce did know you , uncle . There lies your niece ,
+Whose breath , indeed , these hands have newly stopp'd :
+I know this act shows terrible and grim .
+
+Poor Desdemona ! I am glad thy father's dead .
+Thy match was mortal to him , and pure grief
+Shore his old thread in twain : did he live now ,
+This sight would make him do a desperate turn ,
+Yea , curse his better angel from his side ,
+And fall to reprobation .
+
+'Tis pitiful ; but yet Iago knows
+That she with Cassio hath the act of shame
+A thousand times committed ; Cassio confess'd it :
+And she did gratify his amorous works
+With that recognizance and pledge of love
+Which I first gave her . I saw it in his hand :
+It was a handkerchief , an antique token
+My father gave my mother .
+
+O heaven ! O heavenly powers !
+
+Come , hold your peace .
+
+'Twill out , 'twill out ; I hold my peace , air ? no ;
+No , I will speak as liberal as the north ;
+Let heaven and men and devils , let them all ,
+All , all , cry shame against me , yet I'll speak .
+
+Be wise , and get you home .
+
+I will not .
+
+
+Fie !
+Your sword upon a woman ?
+
+O thou dull Moor ! that handkerchief thou speak'st of
+I found by fortune and did give my husband ;
+For often , with a solemn earnestness ,
+More than , indeed , belong'd to such a trifle ,
+He begg'd of me to steal it .
+
+Villanous whore !
+
+She give it Cassio ! no , alas ! I found it ,
+And I did give 't my husband .
+
+Filth , thou liest !
+
+By heaven , I do not , I do not , gentlemen .
+O murderous coxcomb ! what should such a fool
+Do with so good a wife ?
+
+Are there no stones in heaven
+But what serve for the thunder ? Precious villain !
+
+
+The woman falls : sure , he has kill'd his wife .
+
+Ay , ay ; O ! lay me by my mistress' side .
+
+He's gone ; but his wife's kill'd .
+
+'Tis a notorious villain . Take you this weapon ,
+Which I have here recover'd from the Moor .
+Come , guard the door without ; let him not pass ,
+But kill him rather . I'll after that same villain ,
+For 'tis a damned slave .
+
+
+I am not valiant neither ,
+But every puny whipster gets my sword .
+But why should honour outlive honesty ?
+Let it go all .
+
+What did thy song bode , lady ?
+Hark , canst thou hear me ? I will play the swan ,
+And die in music :
+Willow , willow , willow .
+Moor , she was chaste ; she lov'd thee , cruel Moor ;
+So come my soul to bliss as I speak true ;
+So speaking as I think , I die , I die .
+
+
+I have another weapon in this chamber ;
+It is a sword of Spain , the ice brook's temper .
+O ! here it is . Uncle , I must come forth .
+
+If thou attempt it , it will cost thee dear :
+Thou hast no weapon , and perforce must suffer .
+
+Look in upon me then , and speak with me ,
+Or , naked as I am , I will assault thee .
+
+
+What is the matter ?
+
+Behold ! I have a weapon ;
+A better never did itself sustain
+Upon a soldier's thigh : I have seen the day ,
+That with this little arm , and this good sword ,
+I have made my way through more impediments
+Than twenty times your stop : but , O vain boast !
+Who can control his fate ? 'tis not so now .
+Be not afraid , though you do see me weapon'd ;
+Here is my journey's end , here is my butt ,
+And very sea-mark of my utmost sail .
+Do you go back dismay'd ? 'tis a lost fear ;
+Man but a rush against Othello's breast ,
+And he retires . Where should Othello go ?
+Now how dost thou look now ? O ill-starr'd wench !
+Pale as thy smock ! when we shall meet at compt ,
+This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven ,
+And fiends will snatch at it . Cold , cold , my girl !
+Even like thy chastity .
+O ! cursed , cursed slave . Whip me , ye devils ,
+From the possession of this heavenly sight !
+Blow me about in winds ! roast me in sulphur !
+Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire !
+O Desdemona ! Desdemona ! dead !
+Oh ! Oh ! Oh !
+
+
+Where is this rash and most unfortunate man ?
+
+That's he that was Othello ; here I am .
+
+Where is that viper ? bring the villain forth .
+
+I look down towards his feet ; but that's a fable .
+If that thou be'st a devil , I cannot kill thee .
+
+
+Wrench his sword from him .
+
+I bleed , sir ; but not kill'd .
+
+I am not sorry neither ; I'd have thee live ;
+For , in my sense , 'tis happiness to die .
+
+O thou Othello ! that wert once so good ,
+Fall'n in the practice of a damned slave ,
+What shall be said to thee ?
+
+Why , any thing :
+An honourable murderer , if you will ;
+For nought did I in hate , but all in honour .
+
+This wretch hath part confess'd his villany :
+Did you and he consent in Cassio's death ?
+
+Ay .
+
+Dear general , I never gave you cause .
+
+I do believe it , and I ask your pardon .
+Will you , I pray , demand that demi-devil
+Why he hath thus ensnar'd my soul and body ?
+
+Demand me nothing : what you know , you know :
+From this time forth I never will speak word .
+
+What ! not to pray ?
+
+Torments will ope your lips .
+
+Well , thou dost best .
+
+Sir , you shall understand what hath befall'n ,
+Which , as I think , you know not . Here is a letter
+Found in the pocket of the slain Roderigo ,
+And here another ; the one of them imports
+The death of Cassio to be undertook
+By Roderigo .
+
+O villain !
+
+Most heathenish and most gross !
+
+Now here's another discontented paper ,
+Found in his pocket too ; and this , it seems ,
+Roderigo meant to have sent this damned villain ,
+But that , belike , Iago in the interim
+Came in and satisfied him .
+
+O the pernicious caitiff !
+How came you , Cassio , by that handkerchief
+That was my wife's ?
+
+I found it in my chamber ;
+And he himself confess'd but even now
+That there he dropp'd it for a special purpose
+Which wrought to his desire .
+
+O fool ! fool ! fool !
+
+There is besides in Roderigo's letter
+How he upbraids Iago that he made him
+Brave me upon the watch ; whereon it came
+That I was cast : and even but now he spake ,
+After long seeming dead , Iago hurt him ,
+Iago set him on .
+
+You must forsake this room and go with us ;
+Your power and your command is taken off ,
+And Cassio rules in Cyprus . For this slave ,
+If there be any cunning cruelty
+That can torment him much and hold him long ,
+It shall be his . You shall close prisoner rest .
+Till that the nature of your fault be known
+To the Venetian state . Come , bring him away .
+
+Soft you ; a word or two before you go .
+I have done the state some service , and they know't ;
+No more of that . I pray you , in your letters ,
+When you shall these unlucky deeds relate ,
+Speak of me as I am ; nothing extenuate ,
+Nor set down aught in malice : then , must you speak
+Of one that lov'd not wisely but too well ;
+Of one not easily jealous , but , being wrought ,
+Perplex'd in the extreme ; of one whose hand ,
+Like the base Indian , threw a pearl away
+Richer than all his tribe ; of one whose subdu'd eyes
+Albeit unused to the melting mood ,
+Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees
+Their med'cinable gum . Set you down this ;
+And say besides , that in Aleppo once ,
+Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk
+Beat a Venetian and traduc'd the state ,
+I took by the throat the circumcised dog ,
+And smote him thus .
+
+
+O bloody period !
+
+All that's spoke is marr'd .
+
+I kiss'd thee ere I kill'd thee ; no way but this ,
+
+Killing myself to die upon a kiss .
+
+
+This did I fear , but thought he had no weapon ;
+For he was great of heart .
+
+O Spartan dog !
+More fell than anguish , hunger , or the sea .
+Look on the tragic loading of this bed ;
+This is thy work ; the object poisons sight ;
+Let it be hid . Gratiano , keep the house ,
+And seize upon the fortunes of the Moor ,
+For they succeed on you . To you , lord governor ,
+Remains the censure of this hellish villain ,
+The time , the place , the torture ; O ! enforce it .
+Myself will straight aboard , and to the state
+This heavy act with heavy heart relate .
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET
+
+Two households , both alike in dignity ,
+In fair Verona , where we lay our scene ,
+From ancient grudge break to new mutiny ,
+Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean .
+From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
+A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life ;
+Whose misadventur'd piteous overthrows
+Do with their death bury their parents' strife .
+The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love ,
+And the continuance of their parents' rage ,
+Which , but their children's end , nought could remove ,
+Is now the two hours' traffick of our stage ;
+The which if you with patient ears attend ,
+What here shall miss , our toil shall strive to mend .
+
+Gregory , o' my word , we'll not carry coals .
+
+No . for then we should be colliers .
+
+I mean , an we be in choler , we'll draw .
+
+Ay , while you live , draw your neck out o' the collar .
+
+I strike quickly , being moved .
+
+But thou art not quickly moved to strike .
+
+A dog of the house of Montague moves me .
+
+To move is to stir , and to be valiant is to stand ; therefore , if thou art moved , thou runnest away .
+
+A dog of that house shall move me to stand : I will take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's .
+
+That shows thee a weak slave ; for the weakest goes to the wall .
+
+'Tis true ; and therefore women , being the weaker vessels , are ever thrust to the wall : therefore I will push Montague's men from the wall , and thrust his maids to the wall .
+
+The quarrel is between our masters and us their men .
+
+'Tis all one , I will show myself a tyrant : when I have fought with the men , I will be cruel with the maids ; I will cut off their heads .
+
+The heads of the maids ?
+
+Ay , the heads of the maids , or their maidenheads ; take it in what sense thou wilt .
+
+They must take it in sense that feel it .
+
+Me they shall feel while I am able to stand ; and 'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh .
+
+'Tis well thou art not fish ; if thou hadst , thou hadst been poor John . Draw thy tool ; here comes two of the house of the Montagues .
+
+
+My naked weapon is out ; quarrel , I will back thee .
+
+How ! turn thy back and run ?
+
+Fear me not .
+
+No , marry ; I fear thee !
+
+Let us take the law of our sides ; let them begin .
+
+I will frown as I pass by , and let them take it as they list .
+
+Nay , as they dare . I will bite my thumb at them ; which is a disgrace to them , if they bear it .
+
+Do you bite your thumb at us , sir ?
+
+I do bite my thumb , sir .
+
+Do you bite your thumb at us , sir ?
+
+Is the law of our side if I say ay ?
+
+No .
+
+No , sir , I do not bite my thumb at you , sir ; but I bite my thumb , sir .
+
+Do you quarrel , sir ?
+
+Quarrel , sir ! no , sir .
+
+If you do , sir , I am for you : I serve as good a man as you .
+
+No better .
+
+Well , sir .
+
+Say , 'better ;' here comes one of my master's kinsmen .
+
+Yes , better , sir .
+
+You lie .
+
+Draw , if you be men . Gregory , remember thy swashing blow .
+
+Part , fools !
+Put up your swords ; you know not what you do .
+
+What ! art thou drawn among these heartless hinds ?
+Turn-thee , Benvolio , look upon thy death .
+
+I do but keep the peace : put up thy sword ,
+Or manage it to part these men with me .
+
+What ! drawn , and talk of peace ? I hate the word ,
+As I hate hell , all Montagues , and thee .
+Have at thee , coward !
+
+
+Clubs , bills , and partisans ! strike ! beat them down !
+Down with the Capulets ! down with the Montagues !
+
+
+What noise is this ? Give me my long sword , ho !
+
+A crutch , a crutch ! Why call you for a sword ?
+
+My sword , I say ! Old Montague is come ,
+And flourishes his blade in spite of me .
+
+
+Thou villain Capulet ! Hold me not ; let me go .
+
+Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe .
+
+
+Rebellious subjects , enemies to peace ,
+Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel ,
+Will they not hear ? What ho ! you men , you beasts ,
+That quench the fire of your pernicious rage
+With purple fountains issuing from your veins ,
+On pain of torture , from those bloody hands
+Throw your mis-temper'd weapons to the ground ,
+And hear the sentence of your moved prince .
+Three civil brawls , bred of an airy word ,
+By thee , old Capulet , and Montague ,
+Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets ,
+And made Verona's ancient citizens
+Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments ,
+To wield old partisans , in hands as old ,
+Canker'd with peace , to part your canker'd hate .
+If ever you disturb our streets again
+Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace .
+For this time , all the rest depart away :
+You , Capulet , shall go along with me ;
+And , Montague , come you this afternoon
+To know our further pleasure in this case ,
+To old Free-town , our common judgment-place .
+Once more , on pain of death , all men depart .
+
+
+Who set this ancient quarrel new a-broach ?
+Speak , nephew , were you by when it began ?
+
+Here were the servants of your adversary
+And yours close fighting ere I did approach :
+I drew to part them ; in the instant came
+The fiery Tybalt , with his sword prepar'd ,
+Which , as he breath'd defiance to my ears ,
+He swung about his head , and cut the winds ,
+Who , nothing hurt withal hiss'd him in scorn .
+While we were interchanging thrusts and blows ,
+Came more and more , and fought on part and part ,
+Till the prince came , who parted either part .
+
+O ! where is Romeo ? saw you him to-day ?
+Right glad I am he was not at this fray .
+
+Madam , an hour before the worshipp'd sun
+Peer'd forth the golden window of the east ,
+A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad ;
+Where , underneath the grove of sycamore
+That westward rooteth from the city's side ,
+So early walking did I see your son :
+Towards him I made ; but he was ware of me ,
+And stole into the covert of the wood :
+I , measuring his affections by my own ,
+That most are busied when they're most alone ,
+Pursu'd my humour not pursuing his ,
+And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me .
+
+Many a morning hath he there been seen ,
+With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew ,
+Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs :
+But all so soon as the all-cheering sun
+Should in the furthest east begin to draw
+The shady curtains from Aurora's bed ,
+Away from light steals home my heavy son ,
+And private in his chamber pens himself ,
+Shuts up his windows , locks fair daylight out ,
+And makes himself an artificial night .
+Black and portentous must this humour prove
+Unless good-counsel may the cause remove .
+
+My noble uncle , do you know the cause ?
+
+I neither know it nor can learn of him .
+
+Have you importun'd him by any means ?
+
+Both by myself and many other friends :
+But he , his own affections' counsellor ,
+Is to himself , I will not say how true ,
+But to himself so secret and so close ,
+So far from sounding and discovery ,
+As is the bud bit with an envious worm ,
+Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air ,
+Or dedicate his beauty to the sun .
+Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow ,
+We would as willingly give cure as know .
+
+See where he comes : so please you , step aside ;
+I'll know his grievance , or be much denied .
+
+I would thou wert so happy by thy stay ,
+To hear true shrift . Come , madam , let's away .
+
+Good morrow , cousin .
+
+Is the day so young ?
+
+But new struck nine .
+
+Ay me ! sad hours seem long .
+Was that my father that went hence so fast ?
+
+It was . What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours ?
+
+Not having that , which having , makes them short .
+
+In love ?
+
+Out
+
+Of love ?
+
+Out of her favour , where I am in love .
+
+Alas ! that love , so gentle in his view ,
+Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof .
+
+Alas ! that love , whose view is muffled still ,
+Should , without eyes , see pathways to his will .
+Where shall we dine ? O me ! What fray was here ?
+Yet tell me not , for I have heard it all .
+Here's much to do with hate , but more with love :
+Why then , O brawling love ! O loving hate !
+O any thing ! of nothing first create .
+O heavy lightness ! serious vanity !
+Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms !
+Feather of lead , bright smoke , cold fire , sick health !
+Still-waking sleep , that is not what it is !
+This love feel I , that feel no love in this .
+Dost thou not laugh ?
+
+No , coz , I rather weep .
+
+Good heart , at what ?
+
+At thy good heart's oppression .
+
+Why , such is love's transgression .
+Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast ,
+Which thou wilt propagate to have it press'd
+With more of thine : this love that thou hast shown
+Doth add more grief to too much of mine own .
+Love is a smoke rais'd with the fume of sighs ;
+Being purg'd , a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes ;
+Being vex'd , a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears :
+What is it else ? a madness most discreet ,
+A choking gall , and a preserving sweet .
+Farewell , my coz .
+
+
+Soft , I will go along ;
+An if you leave me so , you do me wrong .
+
+Tut ! I have lost myself ; I am not here ;
+This is not Romeo , he's some other where .
+
+Tell me in sadness , who is that you love .
+
+What ! shall I groan and tell thee ?
+
+Groan ! why , no ;
+But sadly tell me who .
+
+Bid a sick man in sadness make his will ;
+Ah ! word ill urg'd to one that is so ill .
+In sadness , cousin , I do love a woman .
+
+I aim'd so near when I suppos'd you lov'd .
+
+A right good mark-man ! And she's fair I love .
+
+A right fair mark , fair coz , is soonest hit .
+
+Well , in that hit you miss : she'll not be hit
+With Cupid's arrow ; she hath Dian's wit ;
+And , in strong proof of chastity well arm'd ,
+From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd .
+She will not stay the siege of loving terms ,
+Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes ,
+Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold :
+O ! she is rich in beauty ; only poor
+That , when she dies , with beauty dies her store .
+
+Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste ?
+
+She hath , and in that sparing makes huge waste ;
+For beauty , starv'd with her severity ,
+Cuts beauty off from all posterity .
+She is too fair , too wise , wisely too fair ,
+To merit bliss by making me despair :
+She hath forsworn to love , and in that vow
+Do I live dead that live to tell it now .
+
+Be rul'd by me ; forget to think of her .
+
+O ! teach me how I should forget to think .
+
+By giving liberty unto thine eyes :
+Examine other beauties .
+
+'Tis the way
+To call hers exquisite , in question more .
+These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows
+Being black put us in mind they hide the fair ;
+He , that is strucken blind cannot forget
+The precious treasure of his eyesight lost :
+Show me a mistress that is passing fair ,
+What doth her beauty serve but as a note
+Where I may read who pass'd that passing fair ?
+Farewell : thou canst not teach me to forget .
+
+I'll pay that doctrine , or else die in debt .
+
+
+But Montague is bound as well as I ,
+In penalty alike ; and 'tis not hard , I think ,
+For men so old as we to keep the peace .
+
+Of honourable reckoning are you both ;
+And pity 'tis you liv'd at odds so long .
+But now , my lord , what say you to my suit ?
+
+But saying o'er what I have said before :
+My child is yet a stranger in the world ,
+She hath not seen the change of fourteen years ;
+Let two more summers wither in their pride
+Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride .
+
+Younger than she are happy mothers made .
+
+And too soon marr'd are those so early made .
+Earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she ,
+She is the hopeful lady of my earth :
+But woo her , gentle Paris , get her heart ,
+My will to her consent is but a part ;
+An she agree , within her scope of choice
+Lies my consent and fair according voice .
+This night I hold an old accustom'd feast ,
+Whereto I have invited many a guest
+Such as I love ; and you , among the store ,
+One more , most welcome , makes my number more .
+At my poor house look to behold this night
+Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light :
+Such comfort as do lusty young men feel
+When well-apparel'd April on the heel
+Of limping winter treads , even such delight
+Among fresh female buds shall you this night
+Inherit at my house ; hear all , all see ,
+And like her most whose merit most shall be :
+Which on more view , of many mine being one
+May stand in number , though in reckoning none .
+Come , go with me .
+
+Go , sirrah , trudge about
+Through fair Verona ; find those persons out
+Whose names are written there , and to them say ,
+My house and welcome on their pleasure stay .
+
+
+Find them out whose names are written here ! It is written that the shoemaker should meddle with his yard , and the tailor with his last , the fisher with his pencil , and the painter with his nets ; but I am sent to find those persons , whose names are here writ , and can never find what names the writing person hath here writ . I must to the learned . In good time .
+
+
+Tut ! man , one fire burns out another's burning ,
+One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish ;
+Turn giddy , and be holp by backward turning ;
+One desperate grief cures with another's languish :
+Take thou some new infection to thy eye ,
+And the rank poison of the old will die .
+
+Your plantain leaf is excellent for that .
+
+For what , I pray thee ?
+
+For your broken shin .
+
+Why , Romeo , art thou mad ?
+
+Not mad , but bound more than a madman is ;
+Shut up in prison , kept without my food ,
+Whipp'd and tormented , and Good den , good fellow .
+
+God gi' good den . I pray , sir , can you read ?
+
+Ay , mine own fortune in my misery .
+
+Perhaps you have learn'd it without book : but , I pray , can you read any thing you see ?
+
+Ay , if I know the letters and the language .
+
+Ye say honestly ; rest you merry !
+
+
+Stay , fellow ; I can read .
+Signior Martino and his wife and daughters ; County Anselme and his beauteous sisters ; the lady widow of Vitruvio ; Signior Placentio , and his lovely nieces ; Mercutio and his brother Valentine ; mine uncle Capulet , his wife and daughters ; my fair niece Rosaline ; Livia ; Signior Valentio and his cousin Tybalt ; Lucio and the lively Helena .
+A fair assembly : whither should they come ?
+
+Up .
+
+Whither ?
+
+To supper ; to our house .
+
+Whose house ?
+
+My master's .
+
+Indeed , I should have asked you that before .
+
+Now I'll tell you without asking . My master is the great rich Capulet ; and if you be not of the house of Montagues , I pray , come and crush a cup of wine . Rest you merry !
+
+
+At this same ancient feast of Capulet's ,
+Sups the fair Rosaline , whom thou so lov'st ,
+With all the admired beauties of Verona :
+Go thither ; and , with unattainted eye
+Compare her face with some that I shall show ,
+And I will make thee think thy swan a crow .
+
+When the devout religion of mine eye
+Maintains such falsehood , then turn tears to fires !
+And these , who often drown'd could never die ,
+Transparent heretics , be burnt for liars !
+One fairer than my love ! the all-seeing sun
+Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun .
+
+Tut ! you saw her fair , none else being by ,
+Herself pois'd with herself in either eye ;
+But in that crystal scales let there be weigh'd
+Your lady's love against some other maid
+That I will show you shining at this feast ,
+And she shall scant show well that now shows best .
+
+I'll go along , no such sight to be shown ,
+But to rejoice in splendour of mine own .
+
+
+Nurse , where's my daughter ? call her forth to me .
+
+Now , by my maidenhead , at twelve year old ,
+I bade her come . What , lamb ! what , ladybird !
+God forbid ! where's this girl ? what , Juliet !
+
+
+How now ! who calls ?
+
+Your mother .
+
+Madam , I am here .
+What is your will ?
+
+This is the matter . Nurse , give leave awhile .
+We must talk in secret : nurse , come back again ;
+I have remember'd me , thou's hear our counsel .
+Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age .
+
+Faith , I can tell her age unto an hour .
+
+She's not fourteen .
+
+I'll lay fourteen of my teeth
+And yet to my teen be it spoken I have but four
+She is not fourteen . How long is it now
+To Lammas-tide ?
+
+A fortnight and odd days .
+
+Even or odd , of all days in the year ,
+Come Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen .
+Susan and she God rest all Christian souls !
+Were of an age . Well , Susan is with God ;
+She was too good for me . But , as I said ,
+On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen ;
+That shall she , marry ; I remember it well .
+'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years ;
+And she was wean'd , I never shall forget it ,
+Of all the days of the year , upon that day ;
+For I had then laid wormwood to my dug ,
+Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall ;
+My lord and you were then at Mantua .
+Nay , I do bear a brain :but , as I said ,
+When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple
+Of my dug and felt it bitter , pretty fool !
+To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug .
+'Shake ,' quoth the dove-house : 'twas no need , I trow ,
+To bid me trudge :
+And since that time it is eleven years ;
+For then she could stand high lone ; nay , by the rood ,
+She could have run and waddled all about ;
+For even the day before she broke her brow :
+And then my husband God be with his soul !
+A' was a merry man took up the child :
+'Yea ,' quoth he , 'dost thou fall upon thy face ?
+Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit ;
+Wilt thou not , Jule ?' and , by my halidom ,
+The pretty wretch left crying , and said 'Ay .'
+To see now how a jest shall come about !
+I warrant , an I should live a thousand years ,
+I never should forget it : 'Wilt thou not , Jule ?' quoth he ;
+And , pretty fool , it stinted and said 'Ay .'
+
+Enough of this ; I pray thee , hold thy peace .
+
+Yes , madam . Yet I cannot choose but laugh ,
+To think it should leave crying , and say 'Ay .'
+And yet , I warrant , it had upon its brow
+A bump as big as a young cockerel's stone ;
+A parlous knock ; and it cried bitterly :
+'Yea ,' quoth my husband , 'fall'st upon thy face ?
+Thou wilt fall backward when thou com'st to age ;
+Wilt thou not , Jule ?' it stinted and said 'Ay .'
+
+And stint thou too , I pray thee , nurse , say I .
+
+Peace , I have done . God mark thee to his grace !
+Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed :
+An I might live to see thee married once ,
+I have my wish .
+
+Marry , that 'marry' is the very theme
+I came to talk of . Tell me , daughter Juliet ,
+How stands your disposition to be married ?
+
+It is an honour that I dream not of .
+
+An honour ! were not I thine only nurse ,
+I would say thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat .
+
+Well , think of marriage now ; younger than you ,
+Here in Verona , ladies of esteem ,
+Are made already mothers : by my count ,
+I was your mother much upon these years
+That you are now a maid . Thus then in brief ,
+The valiant Paris seeks you for his love .
+
+A man , young lady ! lady , such a man
+As all the world why , he's a man of wax .
+
+Verona's summer hath not such a flower .
+
+Nay , he's a flower ; in faith , a very flower .
+
+What say you ? can you love the gentleman ?
+This night you shall behold him at our feast ;
+Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face
+And find delight writ there with beauty's pen ;
+Examine every married lineament ,
+And see how one another lends content ;
+And what obscur'd in this fair volume lies
+Find written in the margent of his eyes .
+This precious book of love , this unbound lover ,
+To beautify him , only lacks a cover :
+The fish lives in the sea , and 'tis much pride
+For fair without the fair within to hide :
+That book in many eyes doth share the glory ,
+That in gold clasps locks in the golden story :
+So shall you share all that he doth possess ,
+By having him making yourself no less .
+
+No less ! nay , bigger ; women grow by men .
+
+Speak briefly , can you like of Paris' love ?
+
+I'll look to like , if looking liking move ;
+But no more deep will I endart mine eye
+Than your consent gives strength to make it fly .
+
+
+Madam , the guests are come , supper served up , you called , my young lady asked for , the nurse cursed in the pantry , and everything in extremity . I must hence to wait ; I beseech you , follow straight .
+
+We follow thee . Juliet , the county stays .
+
+Go , girl , seek happy nights to happy days .
+
+
+What ! shall this speech be spoke for our excuse ,
+Or shall we on without apology ?
+
+The date is out of such prolixity :
+We'll have no Cupid hood-wink'd with a scarf ,
+Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath ,
+Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper ;
+Nor no without-book prologue , faintly spoke
+After the prompter , for our entrance :
+But , let them measure us by what they will ,
+We'll measure them a measure , and be gone .
+
+Give me a torch : I am not for this ambling ;
+Being but heavy , I will bear the light .
+
+Nay , gentle Romeo , we must have you dance .
+
+Not I , believe me : you have dancing shoes
+With nimble soles ; I have a soul of lead
+So stakes me to the ground I cannot move .
+
+You are a lover ; borrow Cupid's wings ,
+And soar with them above a common bound .
+
+I am too sore enpierced with his shaft
+To soar with his light feathers ; and so bound
+I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe :
+Under love's heavy burden do I sink .
+
+And , to sink in it , should you burden love ;
+Too great oppression for a tender thing .
+
+Is love a tender thing ? it is too rough ,
+Too rude , too boisterous ; and it pricks like thorn .
+
+If love be rough with you , be rough with love ;
+Prick love for pricking , and you beat love down .
+Give me a case to put my visage in :
+
+A visor for a visor ! what care I ,
+What curious eye doth quote deformities ?
+Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me .
+
+Come , knock and enter ; and no sooner in ,
+But every man betake him to his legs .
+
+A torch for me ; let wantons , light of heart ,
+Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels ,
+For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase ;
+I'll be a candle holder , and look on .
+The game was ne'er so fair , and I am done .
+
+Tut ! dun's the mouse , the constable's own word .
+If thou art Dun , we'll draw thee from the mire ,
+Of save your reverence love , wherein thou stick'st
+Up to the ears . Come , we burn daylight , ho !
+
+Nay , that's not so .
+
+I mean , sir , in delay
+We waste our lights in vain , like lamps by day .
+Take our good meaning , for our judgment sits
+Five times in that ere once in our five wits .
+
+And we mean well in going to this masque ;
+But 'tis no wit to go .
+
+Why , may one ask ?
+
+I dream'd a dream to-night .
+
+And so did I .
+
+Well , what was yours ?
+
+That dreamers often lie .
+
+In bed asleep , while they do dream things true .
+
+O ! then , I see , Queen Mab hath been with you .
+
+Queen Mab ! What's she ?
+
+She is the fairies' midwife , and she comes
+In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
+On the fore-finger of an alderman ,
+Drawn with a team of little atomies
+Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep :
+Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs ;
+The cover , of the wings of grasshoppers ;
+The traces , of the smallest spider's web ;
+The collars , of the moonshine's watery beams ;
+Her whip , of cricket's bone ; the lash , of film ;
+Her waggoner , a small grey-coated gnat ,
+Not half so big as a round little worm
+Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid ;
+Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut ,
+Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub ,
+Time out o' mind the fairies' coach-makers .
+And in this state she gallops night by night
+Through lovers' brains , and then they dream of love ;
+O'er courtiers' knees , that dream on curtsies straight ;
+O'er lawyers' fingers , who straight dream on fees ;
+O'er ladies' lips , who straight on kisses dream ;
+Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues ,
+Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are .
+Sometimes she gallops o'er a courtier's nose ,
+And then dreams he of smelling out a suit ;
+And sometimes comes she with a tithe pig's tail ,
+Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep ,
+Then dreams he of another benefice ;
+Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck ,
+And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats ,
+Of breaches , ambuscadoes , Spanish bladed ,
+Of healths five fathom deep ; and then anon
+Drums in his ear , at which he starts and wakes ;
+And , being thus frighted , swears a prayer or two ,
+And sleeps again . This is that very Mab
+That plats the manes of horses in the night ;
+And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs ,
+Which once untangled much misfortune bodes ;
+This is the hag , when maids lie on their backs ,
+That presses them and learns them first to bear ,
+Making them women of good carriage :
+This is she
+
+Peace , peace ! Mercutio , peace !
+Thou talk'st of nothing .
+
+True , I talk of dreams ,
+Which are the children of an idle brain ,
+Begot of nothing but vain fantasy ;
+Which is as thin of substance as the air ,
+And more inconstant than the wind , who woos
+Even now the frozen bosom of the north ,
+And , being anger'd , puffs away from thence ,
+Turning his face to the dew-dropping south .
+
+This wind you talk of blows us from ourselves ;
+Supper is done , and we shall come too late .
+
+I fear too early ; for my mind misgives
+Some consequence yet hanging in the stars
+Shall bitterly begin his fearful date
+With this night's revels , and expire the term
+Of a despised life clos'd in my breast
+By some vile forfeit of untimely death .
+But he , that hath the steerage of my course ,
+Direct my sail !, On , lusty gentlemen .
+
+Strike , drum .
+
+
+Where's Potpan , that he helps not to take away ? he shift a trencher ! he scrape a trencher !
+
+When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's hands , and they unwashed too , 'tis a foul thing .
+
+Away with the joint-stools , remove the court-cupboard , look to the plate . Good thou , save me a piece of marchpane ; and , as thou lovest me , let the porter let in Susan Grindstone and Nell . Antony ! and Potpan !
+
+Ay , boy ; ready .
+
+You are looked for and called for , asked for and sought for in the great chamber .
+
+We cannot be here and there too .
+
+Cheerly , boys ; be brisk awhile , and the longer liver take all .
+
+Welcome , gentlemen ! ladies that have their toes
+Unplagu'd with corns will walk a bout with you .
+Ah ha ! my mistresses , which of you all
+Will now deny to dance ? she that makes dainty , she ,
+I'll swear , hath corns ; am I come near ye now ?
+Welcome , gentlemen ! I have seen the day
+That I have worn a visor , and could tell
+A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear
+Such as would please ; 'tis gone , 'tis gone , 'tis gone .
+You are welcome , gentlemen ! Come , musicians , play .
+A hall ! a hall ! give room , and foot it , girls .
+
+More light , ye knaves ! and turn the tables up ,
+And quench the fire , the room has grown too hot .
+Ah ! sirrah , this unlook'd-for sport comes well .
+Nay , sit , nay , sit , good cousin Capulet ,
+For you and I are past our dancing days ;
+How long is 't now since last yourself and I
+Were in a mask ?
+
+By'r Lady , thirty years .
+
+What , man ! 'tis not so much , 'tis not so much :
+'Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio ,
+Come Pentecost as quickly as it will ,
+Some five and twenty years ; and then we mask'd .
+
+'Tis more , 'tis more ; his son is older , sir .
+His son is thirty .
+
+Will you tell me that ?
+His son was but a ward two years ago .
+
+What lady is that which doth enrich the hand
+Of yonder knight ?
+
+I know not , sir .
+
+O ! she doth teach the torches to burn bright .
+It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night
+Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear ;
+Beauty too rich for use , for earth too dear !
+So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows ,
+As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows .
+The measure done , I'll watch her place of stand ,
+And , touching hers , make blessed my rude hand .
+Did my heart love till now ? forswear it , sight !
+For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night .
+
+This , by his voice , should be a Montague .
+Fetch me my rapier , boy . What ! dares the slave
+Come hither , cover'd with an antick face ,
+To fleer and scorn at our solemnity ?
+Now , by the stock and honour of my kin ,
+To strike him dead I hold it not a sin .
+
+Why , how now , kinsman ! wherefore storm you so ?
+
+Uncle , this is a Montague , our foe ;
+A villain that is hither come in spite ,
+To scorn at our solemnity this night .
+
+Young Romeo , is it ?
+
+'Tis he , that villain Romeo .
+
+Content thee , gentle coz , let him alone :
+He bears him like a portly gentleman ;
+And , to say truth , Verona brags of him
+To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth .
+I would not for the wealth of all this town
+Here in my house do him disparagement ;
+Therefore be patient , take no note of him :
+It is my will ; the which if thou respect ,
+Show a fair presence and put off these frowns ,
+An ill-beseeming semblance for a feast .
+
+It fits , when such a villain is a guest :
+I'll not endure him .
+
+He shall be endur'd :
+What ! goodman boy ; I say , he shall , go to ;
+Am I the master here , or you ? go to .
+You'll not endure him ! God shall mend my soul !
+You'll make a mutiny among my guests !
+You will set cock-a-hoop ! you'll be the man !
+
+Why , uncle , 'tis a shame .
+
+Go to , go to ;
+You are a saucy boy is't so indeed ?
+This trick may chance to scathe you .I know what :
+You must contrary me ! marry , 'tis time .
+Well said , my hearts ! You are a princox ; go :
+Be quiet , or More light , more light !For shame !
+I'll make you quiet . What ! cheerly , my hearts !
+
+Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting
+Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting .
+I will withdraw ; but this intrusion shall
+Now seeming sweet convert to bitter gall .
+
+
+If I profane with my unworthiest hand
+This holy shrine , the gentle sin is this ;
+My lips , two blushing pilgrims , ready stand
+To smooth that rough touch with a tenderkiss .
+
+Good pilgrim , you do wrong your hand too much ,
+Which mannerly devotion shows in this ;
+For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch ,
+And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss .
+
+Have not saints lips , and holy palmers too ?
+
+Ay , pilgrim , lips that they must use in prayer .
+
+O ! then , dear saint , let lips do what hands do ;
+They pray , grant thou , lest faith turn to despair .
+
+Saints do not move , though grant for prayers' sake .
+
+Then move not , while my prayers' effect I take .
+Thus from my lips , by thine , my sin is purg'd .
+
+
+Then have my lips the sin that they have took .
+
+Sin from my lips ? O trespass sweetly urg'd !
+Give me my sin again .
+
+You kiss by the book .
+
+Madam , your mother craves a word with you .
+
+What is her mother ?
+
+Marry , bachelor ,
+Her mother is the lady of the house ,
+And a good lady , and a wise , and virtuous :
+I nurs'd her daughter , that you talk'd withal ;
+I tell you he that can lay hold of her
+Shall have the chinks .
+
+Is she a Capulet ?
+O dear account ! my life is my foe's debt .
+
+Away , be gone ; the sport is at the best .
+
+Ay , so I fear ; the more is my unrest .
+
+Nay , gentlemen , prepare not to be gone ;
+We have a trifling foolish banquet towards .
+Is it e'en so ? Why then , I thank you all ;
+I thank you , honest gentlemen ; good-night .
+More torches here ! Come on then , let's to bed .
+Ah ! sirrah , by my fay , it waxes late ;
+I'll to my rest .
+
+
+Come hither , nurse . What is yond gentleman ?
+
+The son and heir of old Tiberio .
+
+What's he that now is going out of door ?
+
+Marry , that , I think , be young Petruchio .
+
+What's he , that follows there , that would not dance ?
+
+I know not .
+
+Go , ask his name .If he be married ,
+My grave is like to be my wedding bed .
+
+His name is Romeo , and a Montague ;
+The only son of your great enemy .
+
+My only love sprung from my only hate !
+Too early seen unknown , and known too late !
+Prodigious birth of love it is to me ,
+That I must love a loathed enemy .
+
+What's this , what's this ?
+
+A rime I learn'd even now
+Of one I danc'd withal .
+
+
+Anon , anon !
+Come , let's away ; the strangers are all gone .
+
+Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie ,
+And young affection gapes to be his heir ;
+That fair for which love groan'd for and would die ,
+With tender Juliet match'd , is now not fair .
+Now Romeo is belov'd and loves again ,
+Alike bewitched by the charm of looks ,
+But to his foe suppos'd he must complain ,
+And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks :
+Being held a foe , he may not have access
+To breathe such vows as lovers us'd to swear ;
+And she as much in love , her means much less
+To meet her new-beloved any where :
+But passion lends them power , time means , to meet ,
+Tempering extremity with extreme sweet .
+
+Can I go forward when my heart is here ?
+Turn back , dull earth , and find thy centre out .
+
+Romeo ! my cousin Romeo !
+
+He is wise ;
+And , on my life , hath stol'n him home to bed .
+
+He ran this way , and leap'd this orchard wall :
+Call , good Mercutio .
+
+Nay , I'll conjure too .
+Romeo ! humours ! madman ! passion ! lover !
+Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh :
+Speak but one rime and I am satisfied ;
+Cry but 'Ay me !' couple but 'love' and 'dove ;'
+Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word .
+One nickname for her purblind son and heir ,
+Young Adam Cupid , he that shot so trim
+When King Cophetua lov'd the beggar-maid .
+He heareth not , he stirreth not , he moveth not ;
+The ape is dead , and I must conjure him .
+I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes ,
+By her high forehead , and her scarlet lip ,
+By her fine foot , straight leg , and quivering thigh ,
+And the demesnes that there adjacent lie ,
+That in thy likeness thou appear to us .
+
+An if he hear thee , thou wilt anger him .
+
+This cannot anger him : 'twould anger him
+To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle
+Of some strange nature , letting it there stand
+Till she had laid it , and conjur'd it down ;
+That were some spite : my invocation
+Is fair and honest , and in his mistress' name
+I conjure only but to raise up him .
+
+Come , he hath hid himself among these trees ,
+To be consorted with the humorous night :
+Blind is his love and best befits the dark .
+
+If love be blind , love cannot hit the mark .
+Now will he sit under a medlar tree ,
+And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit
+As maids call medlars , when they laugh alone .
+O Romeo ! that she were , O ! that she were
+An open et c tera , thou a poperin pear .
+Romeo , good night : I'll to my truckle-bed ;
+This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep :
+Come , shall we go ?
+
+Go , then ; for 'tis in vain
+To seek him here that means not to be found .
+
+
+He jests at scars , that never felt a wound .
+
+But , soft ! what light through yonder window breaks ?
+It is the east , and Juliet is the sun !
+Arise , fair sun , and kill the envious moon ,
+Who is already sick and pale with grief ,
+That thou her maid art far more fair than she :
+Be not her maid , since she is envious ;
+Her vestal livery is but sick and green ,
+And none but fools do wear it ; cast it off .
+It is my lady ; O ! it is my love :
+O ! that she knew she were .
+She speaks , yet she says nothing : what of that ?
+Her eye discourses ; I will answer it .
+I am too bold , 'tis not to me she speaks :
+Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven ,
+Having some business , do entreat her eyes
+To twinkle in their spheres till they return .
+What if her eyes were there , they in her head ?
+The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars
+As daylight doth a lamp ; her eyes in heaven
+Would through the airy region stream so bright
+That birds would sing and think it were not night .
+See ! how she leans her cheek upon her hand :
+O ! that I were a glove upon that hand ,
+That I might touch that cheek .
+
+Ay me !
+
+She speaks :
+O ! speak again , bright angel ; for thou art
+As glorious to this night , being o'er my head ,
+As is a winged messenger of heaven
+Unto the white-upturned wond'ring eyes
+Of mortals , that fall back to gaze on him
+When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds ,
+And sails upon the bosom of the air .
+
+O Romeo , Romeo ! wherefore art thou Romeo ?
+Deny thy father , and refuse thy name ;
+Or , if thou wilt not , be but sworn my love ,
+And I'll no longer be a Capulet .
+
+Shall I hear more , or shall I speak at this ?
+
+'Tis but thy name that is my enemy ;
+Thou art thyself though , not a Montague .
+What's Montague ? it is nor hand , nor foot ,
+Nor arm , nor face , nor any other part
+Belonging to a man . O ! be some other name :
+What's in a name ? that which we call a rose
+By any other name would smell as sweet ;
+So Romeo would , were he not Romeo call'd ,
+Retain that dear perfection which he owes
+Without that title . Romeo , doff thy name ;
+And for that name , which is no part of thee ,
+Take all myself .
+
+I take thee at thy word .
+Call me but love , and I'll be new baptiz'd ;
+Henceforth I never will be Romeo .
+
+What man art thou , that , thus bescreen'd in night ,
+So stumblest on my counsel ?
+
+By a name
+I know not how to tall thee who I am :
+My name , dear saint , is hateful to myself ,
+Because it is an enemy to thee :
+Had I it written , I would tear the word .
+
+My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words
+Of that tongue's uttering , yet I know the sound :
+Art thou not Romeo , and a Montague ?
+
+Neither , fair maid , if either thee dislike .
+
+How cam'st thou hither , tell me , and wherefore ?
+The orchard walls are high and hard to climb ,
+And the place death , considering who thou art ,
+If any of my kinsmen find thee here .
+
+With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls ;
+For stony limits cannot hold love out ,
+And what love can do that dares love attempt ;
+Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me .
+
+If they do see thee they will murder thee .
+
+Alack ! there lies more peril in thine eye
+Than twenty of their swords : look thou but sweet ,
+And I am proof against their enmity .
+
+I would not for the world they saw thee here .
+
+I have night's cloak to hide me from their eyes ;
+And but thou love me , let them find me here ;
+My life were better ended by their hate ,
+Than death prorogued , wanting of thy love .
+
+By whose direction found'st thou out this place ?
+
+By Love , that first did prompt me to inquire ;
+He lent me counsel , and I lent him eyes .
+I am no pilot ; yet , wert thou as far
+As that vast shore wash'd with the furthest sea ,
+I would adventure for such merchandise .
+
+Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face ,
+Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek
+For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night .
+Fain would I dwell on form , fain , fain deny
+What I have spoke : but farewell compliment !
+Dost thou love me ? I know thou wilt say 'Ay ;'
+And I will take thy word ; yet , if thou swear'st ,
+Thou mayst prove false ; at lovers' perjuries ,
+They say , Jove laughs . O gentle Romeo !
+If thou dost love , pronounce it faithfully :
+Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won ,
+I'll frown and be perverse and say thee nay ,
+So thou wilt woo ; but else , not for the world .
+In truth , fair Montague , I am too fond ,
+And therefore thou mayst think my haviour light :
+But trust me , gentleman , I'll prove more true
+Than those that have more cunning to be strange .
+I should have been more strange , I must confess ,
+But that thou over-heard'st , ere I was 'ware ,
+My true love's passion : therefore pardon me ,
+And not impute this yielding to light love ,
+Which the dark night hath so discovered .
+
+Lady , by yonder blessed moon I swear
+That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops ,
+
+O ! swear not by the moon , the inconstant moon ,
+That monthly changes in her circled orb ,
+Lest that thy love prove likewise variable .
+
+What shall I swear by ?
+
+Do not swear at all ;
+Or , if thou wilt , swear by thy gracious self ,
+Which is the god of my idolatry ,
+And I'll believe thee .
+
+If my heart's dear love
+
+Well , do not swear . Although I joy in thee ,
+I have no joy of this contract to-night :
+It is too rash , too unadvis'd , too sudden ;
+Too like the lightning , which doth cease to be
+Ere one can say it lightens . Sweet , good-night !
+This bud of love , by summer's ripening breath ,
+May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet .
+Good-night , good-night ! as sweet repose and rest
+Come to thy heart as that within my breast !
+
+O ! wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied ?
+
+What satisfaction canst thou have to-night ?
+
+The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine .
+
+I gave thee mine before thou didst request it ;
+And yet I would it were to give again .
+
+Wouldst thou withdraw it ? for what purpose , love ?
+
+But to be frank , and give it thee again .
+And yet I wish but for the thing I have :
+My bounty is as boundless as the sea ,
+My love as deep ; the more I give to thee ,
+The more I have , for both are infinite .
+
+I hear some noise within ; dear love , adieu !
+Anon , good nurse ! Sweet Montague , be true .
+Stay but a little , I will come again .
+
+
+O blessed , blessed night ! I am afeard ,
+Being in night , all this is but a dream ,
+Too flattering-sweet to be substantial .
+
+
+Three words , dear Romeo , and good-night indeed .
+If that thy bent of love be honourable ,
+Thy purpose marriage , send me word to-morrow ,
+By one that I'll procure to come to thee ,
+Where , and what time , thou wilt perform the rite ;
+And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay ,
+And follow thee my lord throughout the world .
+
+Madam !
+
+I come , anon .But if thou mean'st not well ,
+I do beseech thee ,
+
+Madam !
+
+By and by ; I come :
+To cease thy suit , and leave me to my grief :
+To-morrow will I send .
+
+So thrive my soul ,
+
+A thousand times good-night !
+
+
+A thousand times the worse , to want thy light .
+Love goes toward love , as schoolboys from their books ;
+But love from love , toward school with heavy looks .
+
+Hist ! Romeo , hist ! O ! for a falconer's voice ,
+To lure this tassel-gentle back again .
+Bondage is hoarse , and may not speak aloud ,
+Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies ,
+And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine ,
+With repetition of my Romeo's name .
+
+It is my soul that calls upon my name :
+How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night ,
+Like softest music to attending ears !
+
+Romeo !
+
+My dear !
+
+At what o'clock to-morrow
+Shall I send to thee ?
+
+At the hour of nine .
+
+I will not fail ; 'tis twenty years till then .
+I have forgot why I did call thee back .
+
+Let me stand here till thou remember it .
+
+I shall forget , to have thee still stand there ,
+Remembering how I love thy company .
+
+And I'll still stay , to have thee still forget ,
+Forgetting any other home but this .
+
+'Tis almost morning ; I would have thee gone ;
+And yet no further than a wanton's bird ,
+Who lets it hop a little from her hand ,
+Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves ,
+And with a silk thread plucks it back again ,
+So loving-jealous of his liberty .
+
+I would I were thy bird .
+
+Sweet , so would I :
+Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing .
+Good-night , good-night ! parting is such sweet sorrow
+That I shall say good-night till it be morrow .
+
+
+Sleep dwell upon thine eyes , peace in thy breast !
+Would I were sleep and peace , so sweet to rest !
+Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell ,
+His help to crave , and my dear hap to tell .
+
+
+The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning night ,
+Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light ,
+And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels
+From forth day's path and Titan's fiery wheels :
+Now , ere the sun advance his burning eye
+The day to cheer and night's dank dew to dry ,
+I must up-fill this osier cage of ours
+With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers .
+The earth that's nature's mother is her tomb ;
+What is her burying grave that is her womb ,
+And from her womb children of divers kind
+We sucking on her natural bosom find ,
+Many for many virtues excellent ,
+None but for some , and yet all different .
+O ! mickle is the powerful grace that lies
+In herbs , plants , stones , and their true qualities :
+For nought so vile that on the earth doth live
+But to the earth some special good doth give ,
+Nor aught so good but strain'd from that fair use
+Revolts from true birth , stumbling on abuse :
+Virtue itself turns vice , being misapplied ,
+And vice sometime's by action dignified .
+Within the infant rind of this weak flower
+Poison hath residence and medicine power :
+For this , being smelt , with that part cheers each part ;
+Being tasted , slays all senses with the heart .
+Two such opposed foes encamp them still
+In man as well as herbs , grace and rude will ;
+And where the worser is predominant ,
+Full soon the canker death eats up that plant .
+
+
+Good morrow , father !
+
+Benedicite !
+What early tongue so sweet saluteth me ?
+Young son , it argues a distemper'd head
+So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed :
+Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye ,
+And where care lodges , sleep will never lie ;
+But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain
+Doth couch his limbs , there golden sleep doth reign :
+Therefore thy earliness doth me assure
+Thou art up-rous'd by some distemperature ;
+Or if not so , then here I hit it right ,
+Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night .
+
+That last is true ; the sweeter rest was mine .
+
+God pardon sin ! wast thou with Rosaline ?
+
+With Rosaline , my ghostly father ? no ;
+I have forgot that name , and that name's woe .
+
+That's my good son : but where hast thou been , then ?
+
+I'll tell thee , ere thou ask it me again .
+I have been feasting with mine enemy ,
+Where on a sudden one hath wounded me ,
+That's by me wounded : both our remedies
+Within thy help and holy physic lies :
+I bear no hatred , blessed man ; for , lo !
+My intercession likewise steads my foe .
+
+Be plain , good son , and homely in thy drift ;
+Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift .
+
+Then plainly know my heart's dear love is set
+On the fair daughter of rich Capulet :
+As mine on hers , so hers is set on mine ;
+And all combin'd , save what thou must combine
+By holy marriage : when and where and how
+We met we woo'd and made exchange of vow ,
+I'll tell thee as we pass ; but this I pray ,
+That thou consent to marry us to-day .
+
+Holy Saint Francis ! what a change is here ;
+Is Rosaline , whom thou didst love so dear ,
+So soon forsaken ? young men's love then lies
+Not truly in their hearts , but in their eyes .
+Jesu Maria ! what a deal of brine
+Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline ;
+How much salt water thrown away in waste ,
+To season love , that of it doth not taste !
+The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears ,
+Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears ;
+Lo ! here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit
+Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet .
+If e'er thou wast thyself and these woes thine ,
+Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline :
+And art thou chang'd ? pronounce this sentence then :
+Women may fall , when there's no strength in men .
+
+Thou chidd'st me oft for loving Rosaline .
+
+For doting , not for loving , pupil mine .
+
+And bad'st me bury love .
+
+Not in a grave ,
+To lay one in , another out to have .
+
+I pray thee , chide not ; she , whom I love now
+Doth grace for grace and love for love allow ;
+The other did not so .
+
+O ! she knew well
+Thy love did read by rote and could not spell .
+But come , young waverer , come , go with me ,
+In one respect I'll thy assistant be ;
+For this alliance may so happy prove ,
+To turn your households' rancour to pure love .
+
+O ! let us hence ; I stand on sudden haste .
+
+Wisely and slow ; they stumble that run fast .
+
+
+Where the devil should this Romeo be ?
+Came he not home to-night ?
+
+Not to his father's ; I spoke with his man .
+
+Why that same pale hard-hearted wench , that Rosaline ,
+Torments him so , that he will sure run mad .
+
+Tybalt , the kinsman of old Capulet ,
+Hath sent a letter to his father's house .
+
+A challenge , on my life .
+
+Romeo will answer it .
+
+Any man that can write may answer a letter .
+
+Nay , he will answer the letter's master , how he dares , being dared .
+
+Alas ! poor Romeo , he is already dead ; stabbed with a white wench's black eye ; shot through the ear with a love-song ; the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft ; and is he a man to encounter Tybalt ?
+
+Why , what is Tybalt ?
+
+More than prince of cats , I can tell you . O ! he is the courageous captain of compliments . He fights as you sing prick-song , keeps time , distance , and proportion ; rests me his minim rest , one , two , and the third in your bosom ; the very butcher of a silk button , a duellist , a duellist ; a gentleman of the very first house , of the first and second cause . Ah ! the immortal passado ! the punto reverso ! the hay !
+
+The what ?
+
+The pox of such antick , lisping , affecting fantasticoes , these new tuners of accents !'By Jesu , a very good blade !a very tall man ! a very good whore .' Why , is not this a lamentable thing , grandsire , that we should be thus afflicted with these strange flies , these fashion-mongers , these pardonnez-mois , who stand so much on the new form that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench ? O , their bons , their bons !
+
+
+Here comes Romeo , here comes Romeo .
+
+Without his roe , like a dried herring . O flesh , flesh , how art thou fishified ! Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in : Laura to his lady was but a kitchen-wench ; marry , she had a better love to be-rime her ; Dido a dowdy ; Cleopatra a gipsy ; Helen and Hero hildings and harlots ; Thisbe , a grey eye or so , but not to the purpose . Signior Romeo , bon jour ! there's a French salutation to your French slop . You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night .
+
+Good morrow to you both . What counterfeit did I give you ?
+
+The slip , sir , the slip ; can you not conceive ?
+
+Pardon , good Mercutio , my business was great ; and in such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy .
+
+That's as much as to say , such a case as yours constrains a man to bow in the hams .
+
+Meaning to curtsy .
+
+Thou hast most kindly hit it .
+
+A most courteous exposition .
+
+Nay , I am the very pink of courtesy .
+
+Pink for flower .
+
+Right .
+
+Why , then , is my pump well flowered .
+
+Well said ; follow me this jest now till thou hast worn out the pump , that , when the single sole of it is worn , the jest may remain after the wearing sole singular .
+
+O single-soled jest ! solely singular for the singleness .
+
+Come between us , good Benvolio ; my wit faints .
+
+Switch and spurs , switch and spurs ; or I'll cry a match .
+
+Nay , if thy wits run the wild-goose chase , I have done , for thou hast more of the wild-goose in one of thy wits than , I am sure , I have in my whole five . Was I with you there for the goose ?
+
+Thou wast never with me for anything when thou wast not here for the goose .
+
+I will bite thee by the ear for that jest .
+
+Nay , good goose , bite not .
+
+Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting ; it is a most sharp sauce .
+
+And is it not then well served in to a sweet goose ?
+
+O ! here's a wit of cheveril , that stretches from an inch narrow to an ell broad .
+
+I stretch it out for that word 'broad ;' which added to the goose , proves thee far and wide a broad goose .
+
+Why , is not this better now than groaning for love ? now art thou sociable , now art thou Romeo ; now art thou what thou art , by art as well as by nature : for this drivelling love is like a great natural , that runs lolling up and down to hide his bauble in a hole .
+
+Stop there , stop there .
+
+Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair .
+
+Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large .
+
+O ! thou art deceived ; I would have made it short ; for I was come to the whole depth of my tale , and meant indeed to occupy the argument no longer .
+
+Here's goodly gear !
+
+
+A sail , a sail !
+
+Two , two ; a shirt and a smock .
+
+Peter !
+
+Anon !
+
+My fan , Peter .
+
+Good Peter , to hide her face ; for her fan's the fairer face .
+
+God ye good morrow , gentlemen .
+
+God ye good den , fair gentlewoman .
+
+Is it good den ?
+
+'Tis no less , I tell you ; for the bawdy hand of the dial is now upon the prick of noon .
+
+Out upon you ! what a man are you !
+
+One , gentlewoman , that God hath made for himself to mar .
+
+By my troth , it is well said ; 'for himself to mar ,' quoth a' ?Gentlemen , can any of you tell me where I may find the young Romeo ?
+
+I can tell you ; but young Romeo will be older when you have found him than he was when you sought him : I am the youngest of that name , for fault of a worse .
+
+You say well .
+
+Yea ! is the worst well ? very well took , i' faith ; wisely , wisely .
+
+If you be he , sir , I desire some confidence with you .
+
+She will indite him to some supper .
+
+A bawd , a bawd , a bawd ! So ho !
+
+What hast thou found ?
+
+No hare , sir ; unless a hare , sir , in a lenten pie , that is something stale and hoar ere it be spent .
+
+
+An old hare hoar , and an old hare hoar ,
+Is very good meat in Lent :
+But a hare that is hoar , is too much for a score ,
+When it hoars ere it be spent .
+
+Romeo , will you come to your father's ? we'll to dinner thither .
+
+I will follow you .
+
+Farewell , ancient lady ; farewell , Lady , lady , lady .
+
+
+Marry , farewell ! I pray you , sir , what saucy merchant was this , that was so full of his ropery ?
+
+A gentleman , nurse , that loves to hear himself talk , and will speak more in a minute than he will stand to in a month .
+
+An a' speak anything against me , I'll take him down , an a' were lustier than he is , and twenty such Jacks ; and if I cannot , I'll find those that shall . Scurvy knave ! I am none of his flirt-gills ; I am none of his skeins-mates .
+
+And thou must stand by too , and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure !
+
+I saw no man use you at his pleasure ; if I had , my weapon should quickly have been out , I warrant you . I dare draw as soon as another man , if I see occasion in a good quarrel , and the law on my side .
+
+Now , afore God , I am so vexed , that every part about me quivers . Scurvy knave ! Pray you , sir , a word ; and as I told you , my young lady bade me inquire you out ; what she bid me say I will keep to myself ; but first let me tell ye , if ye should lead her into a fool's paradise , as they say , it were a very gross kind of behaviour , as they say : for the gentlewoman is young ; and , therefore , if you should deal double with her , truly it were an ill thing to be offered to any gentlewoman , and very weak dealing .
+
+Nurse , commend me to thy lady and mistress . I protest unto thee ,
+
+Good heart ! and i' faith , I will tell her as much . Lord , Lord ! she will be a joyful woman .
+
+What wilt thou tell her , nurse ? thou dost not mark me .
+
+I will tell her , sir , that you do protest ; which , as I take it , is a gentlemanlike offer .
+
+Bid her devise
+Some means to come to shrift this afternoon ;
+And there she shall at Friar Laurence' cell ,
+Be shriv'd and married . Here is for thy pains .
+
+No , truly , sir ; not a penny .
+
+Go to ; I say , you shall .
+
+This afternoon , sir ? well , she shall be there .
+
+And stay , good nurse ; behind the abbey wall :
+Within this hour my man shall be with thee ,
+And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair ;
+Which to the high top-gallant of my joy
+Must be my convoy in the secret night .
+Farewell ! Be trusty , and I'll quit thy pains .
+Farewell ! Commend me to thy mistress .
+
+Now God in heaven bless thee ! Hark you , sir .
+
+What sayst thou , my dear nurse ?
+
+Is your man secret ? Did you ne'er hear say ,
+Two may keep counsel , putting one away ?
+
+I warrant thee my man's as true as steel .
+
+Well , sir ; my mistress is the sweetest lady Lord , Lord !when 'twas a little prating thing ,O ! there's a nobleman in town , one Paris , that would fain lay knife aboard ; but she , good soul , had as lief see a toad , a very toad , as see him . I anger her sometimes and tell her that Paris is the properer man ; but , I'll warrant you , when I say so , she looks as pale as any clout in the versal world . Doth not rosemary and Romeo begin both with a letter ?
+
+Ay , nurse : what of that ? both with an R .
+
+Ah ! mocker ; that's the dog's name . R is for the No ; I know it begins with some other letter : and she had the prettiest sententious of it , of you and rosemary , that it would do you good to hear it .
+
+Commend me to thy lady .
+
+Ay , a thousand times .
+
+Peter !
+
+Anon !
+
+Before , and apace .
+
+
+The clock struck nine when I did send the nurse ;
+In half an hour she promis'd to return .
+Perchance she cannot meet him : that's not so .
+O ! she is lame : love's heralds should be thoughts ,
+Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams ,
+Driving back shadows over lowering hills :
+Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw Love ,
+And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings .
+Now is the sun upon the highmost hill
+Of this day's journey , and from nine till twelve
+Is three long hours , yet she is not come .
+Had she affections , and warm youthful blood ,
+She'd be as swift in motion as a ball ;
+My words would bandy her to my sweet love ,
+And his to me :
+But old folks , many feign as they were dead ;
+Unwieldy , slow , heavy and pale as lead .
+
+
+O God ! she comes . O honey nurse ! what news ?
+
+Hast thou met with him ? Send thy man away .
+
+Peter , stay at the gate .
+
+
+Now , good sweet nurse ; O Lord ! why look'st thou sad ?
+Though news be sad , yet tell them merrily ;
+If good , thou sham'st the music of sweet news
+By playing it to me with so sour a face .
+
+I am aweary , give me leave awhile :
+Fie , how my bones ache ! What a jaunce have I had !
+
+I would thou hadst my bones , and I thy news .
+Nay , come , I pray thee , speak ; good , good nurse , speak .
+
+Jesu ! what haste ? can you not stay awhile ?
+Do you not see that I am out of breath ?
+
+How art thou out of breath when thou hast breath
+To say to me that thou art out of breath ?
+The excuse that thou dost make in this delay
+Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse .
+Is thy news good , or bad ? answer to that ;
+Say either , and I'll stay the circumstance :
+Let me be satisfied , is 't good or bad ?
+
+Well , you have made a simple choice ; you know not how to choose a man : Romeo ! no , not he ; though his face be better than any man's , yet his leg excels all men's ; and for a hand , and a foot , and a body , though they be not to be talked on , yet they are past compare . He is not the flower of courtesy , but , I'll warrant him , as gentle as a lamb . Go thy ways , wench ; serve God . What ! have you dined at home ?
+
+No , no : but all this did I know before .
+What says he of our marriage ? what of that ?
+
+Lord ! how my head aches ; what a head have I !
+It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces .
+My back o' t'other side ; O ! my back , my back !
+Beshrew your heart for sending me about ,
+To catch my death with jauncing up and down .
+
+I' faith , I am sorry that thou art not well .
+Sweet , sweet , sweet nurse , tell me , what says my love ?
+
+Your love says , like an honest gentleman , and a courteous , and a kind , and a handsome , and , I warrant , a virtuous ,Where is your mother ?
+
+Where is my mother ! why , she is within ;
+Where should she be ? How oddly thou repliest :
+'Your love says , like an honest gentleman ,
+Where is your mother ?'
+
+O ! God's lady dear ,
+Are you so hot ? Marry , come up , I trow ;
+Is this the poultice for my aching bones ?
+Henceforward do your messages yourself .
+
+Here's such a coil ! come , what says Romeo ?
+
+Have you got leave to go to shrift to-day ?
+
+I have .
+
+Then hie you hence to Friar Laurence' cell ,
+There stays a husband to make you a wife :
+Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks ,
+They'll be in scarlet straight at any news .
+Hie you to church ; I must another way ,
+To fetch a ladder , by the which your love
+Must climb a bird's nest soon when it is dark ;
+I am the drudge and toil in your delight ,
+But you shall bear the burden soon at night .
+Go ; I'll to dinner : hie you to the cell .
+
+Hie to high fortune ! Honest nurse , farewell .
+
+
+So smile the heaven upon this holy act ,
+That after hours with sorrow chide us not !
+
+Amen , amen ! but come what sorrow can ,
+It cannot countervail the exchange of joy
+That one short minute gives me in her sight :
+Do thou but close our hands with holy words ,
+Then love-devouring death do what he dare ;
+It is enough I may but call her mine .
+
+These violent delights have violent ends ,
+And in their triumph die , like fire and powder ,
+Which , as they kiss consume : the sweetest honey
+Is loathsome in his own deliciousness
+And in the taste confounds the appetite :
+Therefore love moderately ; long love doth so ;
+Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow .
+
+
+Here comes the lady : O ! so light a foot
+Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint :
+A lover may bestride the gossamer
+That idles in the wanton summer air ,
+
+And yet not fall ; so light is vanity .
+
+Good even to my ghostly confessor .
+
+Romeo shall thank thee , daughter , for us both .
+
+As much to him , else are his thanks too much .
+
+Ah ! Juliet , if the measure of thy joy
+Be heap'd like mine , and that thy skill be more
+To blazon it , then sweeten with thy breath
+This neighbour air , and let rich music's tongue
+Unfold the imagin'd happiness that both
+Receive in either by this dear encounter .
+
+Conceit , more rich in matter than in words ,
+Brags of his substance , not of ornament :
+They are but beggars that can count their worth ;
+But my true love is grown to such excess
+I cannot sum up half my sum of wealth .
+
+Come , come with me , and we will make short work ;
+For , by your leaves , you shall not stay alone
+Till holy church incorporate two in one .
+
+
+I pray thee , good Mercutio , let's retire :
+The day is hot , the Capulets abroad ,
+And , if we meet , we shall not 'scape a brawl ;
+For now , these hot days , is the mad blood stirring .
+
+Thou art like one of those fellows that when he enters the confines of a tavern claps me his sword upon the table and says , 'God send me no need of thee !' and by the operation of the second cup draws him on the drawer , when , indeed , there is no need .
+
+Am I like such a fellow ?
+
+Come , come , thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as any in Italy ; and as soon moved to be moody , and as soon moody to be moved .
+
+And what to ?
+
+Nay , an there were two such , we should have none shortly , for one would kill the other . Thou ! why , thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more or a hair less in his beard than thou hast . Thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts , having no other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes . What eye , but such an eye , would spy out such a quarrel ? Thy head is as full of quarrels as an egg is full of meat , and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling . Thou hast quarrelled with a man for coughing in the street , because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun . Didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter ? with another , for tying his new shoes with old riband ? and yet thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling !
+
+An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art , any man should buy the fee-simple of my life for an hour and a quarter .
+
+The fee-simple ! O simple !
+
+By my head , here come the Capulets .
+
+By my heel , I care not .
+
+
+Follow me close , for I will speak to them . Gentlemen , good den ! a word with one of you .
+
+And but one word with one of us ? Couple it with something ; make it a word and a blow .
+
+You shall find me apt enough to that , sir , an you will give me occasion .
+
+Could you not take some occasion without giving ?
+
+Mercutio , thou consort'st with Romeo ,
+
+Consort ! What ! dost thou make us minstrels ? an thou make minstrels of us , look to hear nothing but discords : here's my fiddlestick ; here's that shall make you dance . 'Zounds ! consort !
+
+We talk here in the public haunt of men :
+Either withdraw unto some private place ,
+Or reason coldly of your grievances ,
+Or else depart ; here all eyes gaze on us .
+
+Men's eyes were made to look , and let them gaze ;
+I will not budge for no man's pleasure , I .
+
+
+Well , peace be with you , sir . Here comes my man .
+
+But I'll be hang'd , sir , if he wear your livery :
+Marry , go before to field , he'll be your follower ;
+Your worship in that sense may call him 'man .'
+
+Romeo , the hate I bear thee can afford
+No better term than this ,thou art a villain .
+
+Tybalt , the reason that I have to love thee
+Doth much excuse the appertaining rage
+To such a greeting ; villain am I none ,
+Therefore farewell ; I see thou know'st me not .
+
+Boy , this shall not excuse the injuries
+That thou hast done me ; therefore turn and draw .
+
+I do protest I never injur'd thee ,
+But love thee better than thou canst devise ,
+Till thou shalt know the reason of my love :
+And so , good Capulet , which name I tender
+As dearly as my own , be satisfied .
+
+O calm , dishonourable , vile submission !
+Alla stoccata carries it away .
+
+Tybalt , you rat-catcher , will you walk ?
+
+What wouldst thou have with me ?
+
+Good king of cats , nothing but one of your nine lives , that I mean to make bold withal , and , as you shall use me hereafter , dry-beat the rest of the eight . Will you pluck your sword out of his pilcher by the ears ? make haste , lest mine be about your ears ere it be out .
+
+I am for you .
+
+Gentle Mercutio , put thy rapier up .
+
+Come , sir , your passado .
+
+
+Draw , Benvolio ; beat down their weapons .
+Gentlemen , for shame , forbear this outrage !
+Tybalt , Mercutio , the prince expressly hath
+Forbidden bandying in Verona streets .
+Hold , Tybalt ! good Mercutio !
+
+
+I am hurt .
+A plague o' both your houses ! I am sped .
+Is he gone , and hath nothing ?
+
+What ! art thou hurt ?
+
+Ay , ay , a scratch , a scratch ; marry , 'tis enough .
+Where is my page ? Go , villain , fetch a surgeon .
+
+
+Courage , man ; the hurt cannot be much .
+
+No , 'tis not so deep as a well , nor so wide as a church door ; but 'tis enough , 'twill serve : ask for me to-morrow , and you shall find me a grave man . I am peppered , I warrant , for this world . A plague o' both your houses ! 'Zounds , a dog , a rat , a mouse , a cat , to scratch a man to death ! a braggart , a rogue , a villain , that fights by the book of arithmetic ! Why the devil came you between us ? I was hurt under your arm .
+
+I thought all for the best .
+
+Help me into some house , Benvolio ,
+Or I shall faint . A plague o' both your houses !
+They have made worms' meat of me : I have it ,
+And soundly too :your houses !
+
+
+This gentleman , the prince's near ally ,
+My very friend , hath got his mortal hurt
+In my behalf ; my reputation stain'd
+With Tybalt's slander , Tybalt , that an hour
+Hath been my kinsman . O sweet Juliet !
+Thy beauty hath made me effeminate ,
+And in my temper soften'd valour's steel !
+
+
+O Romeo , Romeo ! brave Mercutio's dead ;
+That gallant spirit hath aspir'd the clouds ,
+Which too untimely here did scorn the earth .
+
+This day's black fate on more days doth depend ;
+This but begins the woe others must end .
+
+
+Here comes the furious Tybalt back again .
+
+Alive ! in triumph ! and Mercutio slain !
+Away to heaven , respective lenity ,
+And fire-ey'd fury be my conduct now !
+Now , Tybalt , take the villain back again
+That late thou gav'st me ; for Mercutio's soul
+Is but a little way above our heads ,
+Staying for thine to keep him company :
+Either thou , or I , or both , must go with him .
+
+Thou wretched boy , that didst consort him here ,
+Shalt with him hence .
+
+This shall determine that .
+
+
+Romeo , away ! be gone !
+The citizens are up , and Tybalt slain .
+Stand not amaz'd : the prince will doom thee death
+If thou art taken : hence ! be gone ! away !
+
+O ! I am Fortune's fool .
+
+Why dost thou stay ?
+
+Which way ran he that kill'd Mercutio ?
+Tybalt , that murderer , which way ran he ?
+
+There lies that Tybalt .
+
+Up , sir , go with me .
+I charge thee in the prince's name , obey .
+
+
+Where are the vile beginners of this fray ?
+
+O noble prince ! I can discover all
+The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl :
+There lies the man , slain by young Romeo ,
+That slew thy kinsman , brave Mercutio .
+
+Tybalt , my cousin ! O my brother's child !
+O prince ! O cousin ! husband ! O ! the blood is spill'd
+Of my dear kinsman . Prince , as thou art true ,
+For blood of ours shed blood of Montague .
+O cousin , cousin !
+
+Benvolio , who began this bloody fray ?
+
+Tybalt , here slain , whom Romeo's hand did slay :
+Romeo , that spoke him fair , bade him bethink
+How nice the quarrel was , and urg'd withal
+Your high displeasure : all this , uttered
+With gentle breath , calm look , knees humbly bow'd ,
+Could not take truce with the unruly spleen
+Of Tybalt deaf to peace , but that he tilts
+With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast ,
+Who , all as hot , turns deadly point to point ,
+And , with a martial scorn , with one hand beats
+Cold death aside , and with the other sends
+It back to Tybalt , whose dexterity
+Retorts it : Romeo he cries aloud ,
+'Hold , friends ! friends , part !' and , swifter than his tongue ,
+His agile arm beats down their fatal points ,
+And 'twixt them rushes ; underneath whose arm
+An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life
+Of stout Mercutio , and then Tybalt fled ;
+But by and by comes back to Romeo ,
+Who had but newly entertain'd revenge ,
+And to 't they go like lightning , for , ere I .
+Could draw to part them , was stout Tybalt slain ,
+And , as he fell , did Romeo turn and fly .
+This is the truth , or let Benvolio die .
+
+He is a kinsman to the Montague ;
+Affection makes him false , he speaks not true :
+Some twenty of them fought in this black strife
+And all those twenty could but kill one life .
+I beg for justice , which thou , prince , must give ;
+Romeo slew Tybalt , Romeo must not live .
+
+Romeo slew him , he slew Mercutio ;
+Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe ?
+
+Not Romeo , prince , he was Mercutio's friend ,
+His fault concludes but what the law should end ,
+The life of Tybalt .
+
+And for that offence
+Immediately we do exile him hence :
+I have an interest in your hate's proceeding ,
+My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a-bleeding ;
+But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine
+That you shall all repent the loss of mine .
+I will be deaf to pleading and excuses ;
+Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses ;
+Therefore use none ; let Romeo hence in haste ,
+Else , when he's found , that hour is his last .
+Bear hence this body and attend our will :
+Mercy but murders , pardoning those that kill .
+
+
+Gallop apace , you fiery-footed steeds ,
+Towards Ph bus' lodging ; such a waggoner
+As Ph thon would whip you to the west ,
+And bring in cloudy night immediately .
+Spread thy close curtain , love-performing night !
+That runaway's eyes may wink , and Romeo
+Leap to these arms , untalk'd of and unseen !
+Lovers can see to do their amorous rites
+By their own beauties ; or , if love be blind ,
+It best agrees with night . Come , civil night ,
+Thou sober-suited matron , all in black ,
+And learn me how to lose a winning match ,
+Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods :
+Hood my unmann'd blood , bating in my cheeks ,
+With thy black mantle ; till strange love , grown bold ,
+Think true love acted simple modesty .
+Come , night ! come , Romeo ! come , thou day in night !
+For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night ,
+Whiter than new snow on a raven's back .
+Come , gentle night ; come , loving , black-brow'd night ,
+Give me my Romeo : and , when he shall die ,
+Take him and cut him out in little stars ,
+And he will make the face of heaven so fine
+That all the world will be in love with night ,
+And pay no worship to the garish sun .
+O ! I have bought the mansion of a love ,
+But not possess'd it , and , though I am sold ,
+Not yet enjoy'd . So tedious is this day
+As is the night before some festival
+To an impatient child that hath new robes
+And may not wear them . O ! here comes my nurse ,
+
+
+And she brings news ; and every tongue that speaks
+But Romeo's name speaks heavenly eloquence .
+Now nurse , what news ? What hast thou there ? the cords
+
+That Romeo bade thee fetch ?
+
+Ay , ay , the cords .
+
+
+Ah me ! what news ? why dost thou wring thy hands ?
+
+Ah well-a-day ! he's dead , he's dead , he's dead !
+We are undone , lady , we are undone !
+Alack the day ! he's gone , he's killed , he's dead !
+
+Can heaven be so envious ?
+
+Romeo can ,
+Though heaven cannot . O ! Romeo , Romeo ;
+Who ever would have thought it ? Romeo !
+
+What devil art thou that dost torment me thus ?
+This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell .
+Hath Romeo slain himself ? say thou but 'I ,'
+And that bare vowel , 'I ,' shall poison more
+Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice :
+I am not I , if there be such an 'I ;'
+Or those eyes shut that make thee answer 'I .'
+If he be slain , say 'I ;' or if not 'no :'
+Brief sounds determine of my weal or woe .
+
+I saw the wound , I saw it with mine eyes ,
+God save the mark ! here on his manly breast :
+A piteous corse , a bloody piteous corse ;
+Pale , pale as ashes , all bedaub'd in blood ,
+All in gore blood ; I swounded at the sight .
+
+O break , my heart !poor bankrupt , break at once !
+To prison , eyes , ne'er look on liberty !
+Vile earth , to earth resign ; end motion here ;
+And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier !
+
+O Tybalt , Tybalt ! the best friend I had :
+O courteous Tybalt ! honest gentleman !
+That ever I should live to see thee dead !
+
+What storm is this that blows so contrary ?
+Is Romeo slaughter'd , and is Tybalt dead ?
+My dearest cousin , and my dearer lord ?
+Then , dreadful trumpet , sound the general doom !
+For who is living if those two are gone ?
+
+Tybalt is gone , and Romeo banished ;
+Romeo , that kill'd him , he is banished .
+
+O God ! did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's blood ?
+
+It did , it did ; alas the day ! it did .
+
+O serpent heart , hid with a flowering face !
+Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave ?
+Beautiful tyrant ! fiend angelical !
+Dove-feather'd raven ! wolvish-ravening lamb !
+Despised substance of divinest show !
+Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st ;
+A damned saint , an honourable villain !
+O , nature ! what hadst thou to do in hell
+When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend
+In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh ?
+Was ever book containing such vile matter
+So fairly bound ? O ! that deceit should dwell
+In such a gorgeous palace .
+
+There's no trust ,
+No faith , no honesty in men ; all naught ,
+All perjur'd , all dissemblers , all forsworn .
+Ah ! where's my man ? give me some aqua vit :
+These griefs , these woes , these sorrows make me old .
+Shame come to Romeo !
+
+Blister'd be thy tongue
+For such a wish ! he was not born to shame :
+Upon his brow shame is asham'd to sit ;
+For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd
+Sole monarch of the universal earth .
+O ! what a beast was I to chide at him .
+
+Will you speak well of him that kill'd your cousin ?
+
+Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband ?
+Ah ! poor my lord , what tongue shall smooth thy name ,
+When I , thy three-hours wife , have mangled it ?
+But , wherefore , villain , didst thou kill my cousin ?
+That villain cousin would have kill'd my husband :
+Back , foolish tears , back to your native spring ;
+Your tributary drops belong to woe ,
+Which you , mistaking , offer up to joy .
+My husband lives , that Tybalt would have slain ;
+And Tybalt's dead , that would have slain my husband :
+All this is comfort ; wherefore weep I then ?
+Some word there was , worser than Tybalt's death ,
+That murder'd me : I would forget it fain ;
+But O ! it presses to my memory ,
+Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds .
+'Tybalt is dead , and Romeo banished !'
+That 'banished ,' that one word 'banished ,'
+Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts . Tybalt's death
+Was woe enough , if it had ended there :
+Or , if sour woe delights in fellowship ,
+And needly will be rank'd with other griefs ,
+Why follow'd not , when she said 'Tybalt's dead ,'
+Thy father , or thy mother , nay , or both ,
+Which modern lamentation might have mov'd ?
+But with a rearward following Tybalt's death ,
+'Romeo is banished !' to speak that word
+Is father , mother , Tybalt , Romeo , Juliet ,
+All slain , all dead : 'Romeo is banished !'
+There is no end , no limit , measure , bound
+In that word's death ; no words can that woe sound .
+Where is my father and my mother , nurse ?
+
+Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse :
+Will you go to them ? I will bring you thither .
+
+Wash they his wounds with tears : mine shall be spent ,
+When theirs are dry , for Romeo's banishment .
+Take up those cords . Poor ropes , you are beguil'd ,
+Both you and I , for Romeo is exil'd :
+He made you for a highway to my bed ,
+But I , a maid , die maiden-widowed .
+Come , cords ; come , nurse ; I'll to my wedding bed ;
+And death , not Romeo , take my maidenhead !
+
+Hie to your chamber ; I'll find Romeo
+To comfort you : I wot well where he is .
+Hark ye , your Romeo will be here to-night :
+I'll to him ; he is hid at Laurence' cell .
+
+O ! find him ; give this ring to my true knight ,
+And bid him come to take his last farewell .
+
+
+Romeo , come forth ; come forth , thou fearful man :
+Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts ,
+And thou art wedded to calamity .
+
+
+Father , what news ? what is the prince's doom ?
+What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand ,
+That I yet know not ?
+
+Too familiar
+Is my dear son with such sour company :
+I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom .
+
+What less than doomsday is the prince's doom ?
+
+A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips ,
+Not body's death , but body's banishment .
+
+Ha ! banishment ! be merciful , say 'death ;'
+For exile hath more terror in his look ,
+Much more than death : do not say 'banishment .'
+
+Hence from Verona art thou banished .
+Be patient , for the world is broad and wide .
+
+There is no world without Verona walls ,
+But purgatory , torture , hell itself .
+Hence banished is banish'd from the world ,
+And world's exile is death ; then 'banished ,'
+Is death mis-term'd . Calling death 'banished ,'
+Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe ,
+And smil'st upon the stroke that murders me .
+
+O deadly sin ! O rude unthankfulness !
+Thy fault our law calls death ; but the kind prince ,
+Taking thy part , hath rush'd aside the law ,
+And turn'd that black word death to banishment :
+This is dear mercy , and thou seest it not .
+
+'Tis torture , and not mercy : heaven is here ,
+Where Juliet lives ; and every cat and dog
+And little mouse , every unworthy thing ,
+Live here in heaven and may look on her ;
+But Romeo may not : more validity ,
+More honourable state , more courtship lives
+In carrion flies than Romeo : they may seize
+On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand ,
+And steal immortal blessing from her lips ,
+Who , even in pure and vestal modesty ,
+Still blush , as thinking their own kisses sin ;
+Flies may do this , but I from this must fly :
+They are free men , but I am banished .
+And sayst thou yet that exile is not death ?
+Hadst thou no poison mix'd , no sharp-ground knife ,
+No sudden mean of death , though ne'er so mean ,
+But 'banished' to kill me ? 'Banished !'
+O friar ! the damned use that word in hell ;
+Howlings attend it : how hast thou the heart ,
+Being a divine , a ghostly confessor ,
+A sin-absolver , and my friend profess'd ,
+To mangle me with that word 'banished ?'
+
+Thou fond mad man , hear me but speak a word .
+
+O ! thou wilt speak again of banishment .
+
+I'll give thee armour to keep off that word ;
+Adversity's sweet milk , philosophy ,
+To comfort thee , though thou art banished .
+
+Yet 'banished !' Hang up philosophy !
+Unless philosophy can make a Juliet ,
+Displant a town , reverse a prince's doom ,
+It helps not , it prevails not : talk no more .
+
+O ! then I see that madmen have no ears .
+
+How should they , when that wise men have no eyes ?
+
+Let me dispute with thee of thy estate .
+
+Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel :
+Wert thou as young as I , Juliet thy love ,
+An hour but married , Tybalt murdered ,
+Doting like me , and like me banished ,
+Then mightst thou speak , then mightst thou tear thy hair ,
+And fall upon the ground , as I do now ,
+Taking the measure of an unmade grave .
+
+
+Arise ; one knocks : good Romeo , hide thyself .
+
+Not I ; unless the breath of heart-sick groans ,
+Mist-like , infold me from the search of eyes .
+
+
+Hark ! how they knock . Who's there ? Romeo arise ;
+Thou wilt be taken . Stay awhile ! Stand up ;
+
+Run to my study . By and by ! God's will !
+What wilfulness is this ! I come , I come !
+
+Who knocks so hard ? whence come you ? what's your will ?
+
+Let me come in , and you shall know my errand :
+I come from Lady Juliet .
+
+Welcome , then .
+
+
+O holy friar ! O ! tell me , holy friar ,
+Where is my lady's lord ? where's Romeo ?
+
+There on the ground , with his own tears made drunk .
+
+O ! he is even in my mistress' case ,
+Just in her case !
+
+O woeful sympathy !
+Piteous predicament ! Even so lies she ,
+Blubbering and weeping , weeping and blubbering .
+Stand up , stand up ; stand , an you be a man :
+For Juliet's sake , for her sake , rise and stand ;
+Why should you fall into so deep an O ?
+
+Nurse !
+
+Ah , sir ! ah , sir ! Well , death's the end of all .
+
+Spak'st thou of Juliet ? how is it with her ?
+Doth she not think me an old murderer ,
+Now I have stain'd the childhood of our joy .
+With blood remov'd but little from her own ?
+Where is she ? and how doth she ? and what says
+My conceal'd lady to our cancell'd love ?
+
+O ! she says nothing , sir , but weeps and weeps ;
+And now falls on her bed ; and then starts up ,
+And Tybalt calls , and then on Romeo cries ,
+And then down falls again .
+
+As if that name ,
+Shot from the deadly level of a gun ,
+Did murder her ; as that name's cursed hand
+Murder'd her kinsman . O ! tell me , friar , tell me ,
+In what vile part of this anatomy
+Doth my name lodge ? tell me , that I may sack
+The hateful mansion .
+
+
+Hold thy desperate hand :
+Art thou a man ? thy form cries out thou art :
+Thy tears are womanish ; thy wild acts denote
+The unreasonable fury of a beast :
+Unseemly woman in a seeming man ;
+Or ill-beseeming beast in seeming both !
+Thou hast amaz'd me : by my holy order ,
+I thought thy disposition better temper'd .
+Hast thou slain Tybalt ? wilt thou slay thyself ?
+And slay thy lady that in thy life lives ,
+By doing damned hate upon thyself ?
+Why rail'st thou on thy birth , the heaven , and earth ?
+Since birth , and heaven , and earth , all three do meet
+In thes at once , which thou at once wouldst lose .
+Fie , fie ! thou sham'st thy shape , thy love , thy wit ,
+Which , like a usurer , abound'st in all ,
+And usest none in that true use indeed
+Which should bedeck thy shape , thy love , thy wit .
+Thy noble shape is but a form of wax ,
+Digressing from the valour of a man ;
+Thy dear love , sworn , but hollow perjury ,
+Killing that love which thou hast vow'd to cherish ;
+Thy wit , that ornament to shape and love ,
+Misshapen in the conduct of them both ,
+Like powder in a skilless soldier's flask ,
+To set a-fire by thine own ignorance ,
+And thou dismember'd with thine own defence .
+What ! rouse thee , man ; thy Juliet is alive ,
+For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead ;
+There art thou happy : Tybalt would kill thee ,
+But thou slew'st Tybalt ; there art thou happy too :
+The law that threaten'd death becomes thy friend ,
+And turns it to exile ; there art thou happy :
+A pack of blessings light upon thy back ;
+Happiness courts thee in her best array ;
+But , like a misbehav'd and sullen wench ,
+Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love .
+Take heed , take heed , for such die miserable .
+Go , get thee to thy love , as was decreed ,
+Ascend her chamber , hence and comfort her ;
+But look thou stay not till the watch be set ,
+For then thou canst not pass to Mantua ;
+Where thou shalt live , till we can find a time
+To blaze your marriage , reconcile your friends ,
+Beg pardon of the prince , and call thee back
+With twenty hundred thousand times more joy
+Than thou went'st forth in lamentation .
+Go before , nurse : commend me to thy lady ;
+And bid her hasten all the house to bed ,
+Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto :
+Romeo is coming .
+
+O Lord ! I could have stay'd here all the night
+To hear good counsel : O ! what learning is .
+My lord , I'll tell my lady you will come .
+
+Do so , and bid my sweet prepare to chide .
+
+Here , sir , a ring she bid me give you , sir .
+Hie you , make haste , for it grows very late .
+
+
+How well my comfort is reviv'd by this !
+
+Go hence ; good-night ; and here stands all your state :
+Either be gone before the watch be set ,
+Or by the break of day disguis'd from hence :
+Sojourn in Mantua ; I'll find out your man ,
+And he shall signify from time to time
+Every good hap to you that chances here .
+Give me thy hand ; 'tis late : farewell ; goodnight .
+
+But that a joy past joy calls out on me ,
+It were a grief so brief to part with thee :
+Farewell .
+
+
+Things have fall'n out , sir , so unluckily ,
+That we have had no time to move our daughter :
+Look you , she lov'd her kinsman Tybalt dearly ,
+And so did I : well , we were born to die .
+'Tis very late , she'll not come down to night :
+I promise you , but for your company ,
+I would have been a-bed an hour ago .
+
+These times of woe afford no time to woo .
+Madam , good-night : commend me to your daughter .
+
+I will , and know her mind early to-morrow ;
+To-night she's mew'd up to her heaviness .
+
+Sir Paris , I will make a desperate tender
+Of my child's love : I think she will be rul'd
+In all respects by me ; nay , more , I doubt it not .
+Wife go you to her ere you go to bed ;
+Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love ;
+And bid her , mark you me , on Wednesday next
+But , soft ! what day is this ?
+
+Monday , my lord .
+
+Monday ! ha , ha ! Well , Wednesday is too soon ;
+O' Thursday let it be : o' Thursday , tell her ,
+She shall be married to this noble earl .
+Will you be ready ? do you like this haste ?
+We'll keep no great ado ; a friend or two ;
+For , hark you , Tybalt being slain so late ,
+It may be thought we held him carelessly ,
+Being our kinsman , if we revel much .
+Therefore we'll have some half a dozen friends ,
+And there an end . But what say you to Thursday ?
+
+My lord , I would that Thursday were to-morrow .
+
+Well , get you gone : o' Thursday be it then .
+Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed ,
+Prepare her , wife , against this wedding-day .
+Farewell , my lord . Light to my chamber , ho !
+Afore me ! it is so very very late ,
+That we may call it early by and by .
+Good-night .
+
+
+Wilt thou be gone ? it is not yet near day :
+It was the nightingale , and not the lark ,
+That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear ;
+Nightly she sings on you pomegranate tree :
+Believe me , love , it was the nightingale .
+
+It was the lark , the herald of the morn ,
+No nightingale : look , love , what envious streaks
+Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east :
+Night's candles are burnt out , and jocund day
+Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops :
+I must be gone and live , or stay and die .
+
+Yon light is not daylight , I know it , I :
+It is some meteor that the sun exhales ,
+To be to thee this night a torch-bearer ,
+And light thee on thy way to Mantua :
+Therefore stay yet ; thou need'st not to be gone .
+
+Let me be ta'en , let me be put to death ;
+I am content , so thou wilt have it so .
+I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye ,
+'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow ;
+Nor that is not the lark , whose notes do beat
+The vaulty heaven so high above our heads :
+I have more care to stay than will to go :
+Come , death , and welcome ! Juliet wills it so .
+How is't , my soul ? let's talk ; it is not day .
+
+It is , it is ; hie hence , be gone , away !
+It is the lark that sings so out of tune ,
+Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps .
+Some say the lark makes sweet division ;
+This doth not so , for she divideth us :
+Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes ;
+O ! now I would they had chang'd voices too ,
+Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray ,
+Hunting thee hence with hunts-up to the day .
+O ! now be gone ; more light and light it grows .
+
+More light and light ; more dark and dark our woes .
+
+
+Madam !
+
+Nurse !
+
+Your lady mother is coming to your chamber :
+The day is broke ; be wary , look about .
+
+
+Then , window , let day in , and let life out .
+
+Farewell , farewell ! one kiss , and I'll descend .
+
+
+Art thou gone so ? my lord , my love , my friend !
+I must hear from thee every day in the hour ,
+For in a minute there are many days :
+O ! by this count I shall be much in years
+Ere I again behold my Romeo .
+
+Farewell !
+I will omit no opportunity
+That may convey my greetings , love , to thee .
+
+O ! think'st thou we shall ever meet again ?
+
+I doubt it not ; and all these woes shall serve
+For sweet discourses in our time to come .
+
+O God ! I have an ill-divining soul :
+Methinks I see thee , now thou art so low ,
+As one dead in the bottom of a tomb :
+Either my eyesight fails , or thou look'st pale .
+
+And trust me , love , in my eye so do you :
+Dry sorrow drinks our blood . Adieu ! adieu !
+
+
+O fortune , fortune ! all men call thee fickle :
+If thou art fickle , what dost thou with him
+That is renown'd for faith ? Be fickle , fortune ;
+For then , I hope , thou wilt not keep him long ,
+But send him back .
+
+Ho , daughter ! are you up ?
+
+Who is't that calls ? is it my lady mother ?
+Is she not down so late , or up so early ?
+What unaccustom'd cause procures her hither ?
+
+
+Why , how now , Juliet !
+
+Madam , I am not well .
+
+Evermore weeping for your cousin's death ?
+What ! wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears ?
+And if thou couldst , thou couldst not make him live ;
+Therefore , have done : some grief shows much of love ;
+But much of grief shows still some want of wit .
+
+Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss .
+
+So shall you feel the loss , but not the friend
+Which you weep for .
+
+Feeling so the loss ,
+I cannot choose but ever weep the friend .
+
+Well , girl , thou weep'st not so much for his death ,
+As that the villain lives which slaughter'd him .
+
+What villain , madam ?
+
+That same villain , Romeo .
+
+Villain and he be many miles asunder .
+God pardon him ! I do , with all my heart ;
+And yet no man like he doth grieve my heart .
+
+That is because the traitor murderer lives .
+
+Ay , madam , from the reach of these my hands .
+Would none but I might venge my cousin's death !
+
+We will have vengeance for it , fear thou not :
+Then weep no more . I'll send to one in Mantua ,
+Where that same banish'd runsgate doth live ;
+Shall give him such an unaccustom'd dram
+That he shall soon keep Tybalt company :
+And then , I hope , thou wilt be satisfied .
+
+Indeed , I never shall be satisfied
+With Romeo , till I behold him dead
+Is my poor heart so for a kinsman vex'd :
+Madam , if you could find out but a man
+To bear a poison , I would temper it ,
+That Romeo should , upon receipt thereof ,
+Soon sleep in quiet . O ! how my heart abhors
+To hear him nam'd , and cannot come to him ,
+To wreak the love I bore my cousin Tybalt
+Upon his body that hath slaughter'd him .
+
+Find thou the means , and I'll find such a man .
+But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings , girl .
+
+And joy comes well in such a needy time :
+What are they , I beseech your ladyship ?
+
+Well , well , thou hast a careful father , child ;
+One who , to put thee from thy heaviness ,
+Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy
+That thou expect'st not , nor I look'd not for .
+
+Madam , in happy time , what day is that ?
+
+Marry , my child , early next Thursday morn
+The gallant , young , and noble gentleman ,
+The County Paris , at Saint Peter's church ,
+Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride .
+
+Now , by Saint Peter's church , and Peter too ,
+He shall not make me there a joyful bride .
+I wonder at this haste ; that I must wed
+Ere he that should be husband comes to woo .
+I pray you , tell my lord and father , madam ,
+I will not marry yet ; and , when I do , I swear ,
+It shall be Romeo , whom you know I hate ,
+Rather than Paris . These are news indeed !
+
+Here comes your father ; tell him so yourself ,
+And see how he will take it at your hands .
+
+
+When the sun sets , the air doth drizzle dew ;
+But for the sunset of my brother's son
+It rains downright .
+How now ! a conduit , girl ? what ! still in tears ?
+Evermore showering ? In one little body
+Thou counterfeit'st a bark , a sea , a wind ;
+For still thy eyes , which I may call the sea ,
+Do ebb and flow with tears ; the bark thy body is ,
+Sailing in this salt flood ; the winds , thy sighs ;
+Who , raging with thy tears , and they with them ,
+Without a sudden calm , will overset
+Thy tempest-tossed body . How now , wife !
+Have you deliver'd to her our decree ?
+
+Ay , sir ; but she will none , she gives you thanks .
+I would the fool were married to her grave !
+
+Soft ! take me with you , take me with you , wife .
+How ! will she none ? doth she not give us thanks ?
+Is she not proud ? doth she not count her bless'd ,
+Unworthy as she is , that we have wrought
+So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom ?
+
+Not proud , you have ; but thankful , that you have :
+Proud can I never be of what I hate ;
+But thankful even for hate , that is meant love .
+
+How now ! how now , chop-logic ! What is this ?
+'Proud ,' and 'I thank you ,' and 'I thank you not ;'
+And yet 'not proud ;' mistress minion , you ,
+Thank me no thankings , nor proud me no prouds ,
+But fettle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next ,
+To go with Paris to Saint Peter's church ,
+Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither .
+Out , you green-sickness carrion ! out , you baggage !
+You tallow face !
+
+Fie , fie ! what , are you mad ?
+
+Good father , I beseech you on my knees ,
+Hear me with patience but to speak a word .
+
+Hang thee , young baggage ! disobedient wretch !
+I tell thee what , get thee to church o' Thursday ,
+Or never after look me in the face .
+Speak not , reply not , do not answer me ;
+My fingers itch .Wife , we scarce thought us bless'd
+That God had lent us but this only child ;
+But now I see this one is one too much ,
+And that we have a curse in having her .
+Out on her , hilding !
+
+God in heaven bless her !
+You are to blame , my lord , to rate her so .
+
+And why , my lady wisdom ? hold your tongue ,
+Good prudence ; smatter with your gossips , go .
+
+I speak no treason .
+
+O ! God ye good den .
+
+May not one speak ?
+
+Peace , you mumbling fool ;
+Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl ;
+For here we need it not .
+
+You are too hot .
+
+God's bread ! it makes me mad .
+Day , night , hour , tide , time , work , play ,
+Alone , in company , still my care hath been
+To have her match'd ; and having now provided
+A gentleman of noble parentage ,
+Of fair demesnes , youthful , and nobly train'd ,
+Stuff'd , as they say , with honourable parts ,
+Proportion'd as one's thought would wish a man ;
+And then to have a wretched puling fool ,
+A whining mammet , in her fortune's tender ,
+To answer 'I'll not wed ,' 'I cannot love ,'
+'I am too young ,' 'I pray you , pardon me ;'
+But , an you will not wed , I'll pardon you :
+Graze where you will , you shall not house with me :
+Look to't , think on't , I do not use to jest .
+Thursday is near ; lay hand on heart , advise .
+An you be mine , I'll give you to my friend ;
+An you be not , hang , beg , starve , die in the streets ,
+For , by my soul , I'll ne'er acknowledge thee ,
+Nor what is mine shall never do thee good .
+Trust to't , bethink you ; I'll not be forsworn .
+
+
+Is there no pity sitting in the clouds ,
+That sees into the bottom of my grief ?
+O ! sweet my mother , cast me not away :
+Delay this marriage for a month , a week ;
+Or , if you do not , make the bridal bed
+In that dim monument where Tybalt lies .
+
+Talk not to me , for I'll not speak a word .
+Do as thou wilt , for I have done with thee .
+
+
+O God ! O nurse ! how shall this be prevented ?
+My husband is on earth , my faith in heaven ;
+How shall that faith return again to earth ,
+Unless that husband send it me from heaven
+By leaving earth ? comfort me , counsel me .
+Alack , alack ! that heaven should practise stratagems
+Upon so soft a subject as myself !
+What sayst thou ? hast thou not a word of joy ?
+Some comfort , nurse ?
+
+Faith , here it is . Romeo
+Is banished ; and all the world to nothing
+That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you ;
+Or , if he do , it needs must be by stealth .
+Then , since the case so stands as now it doth ,
+I think it best you married with the county .
+O ! he's a lovely gentleman ;
+Romeo's a dishclout to him : an eagle , madam ,
+Hath not so green , so quick , so fair an eye
+As Paris hath . Beshrew my very heart ,
+I think you are happy in this second match ,
+For it excels your first : or if it did not ,
+Your first is dead ; or 'twere as good he were ,
+As living here and you no use of him .
+
+Speakest thou from thy heart ?
+
+And from my soul too ;
+Or else beshrew them both .
+
+Amen !
+
+What !
+
+Well , thou hast comforted me marvellous much .
+Go in ; and tell my lady I am gone ,
+Having displeas'd my father , to Laurence' cell ,
+To make confession and to be absolv'd .
+
+Marry , I will ; and this is wisely done .
+
+
+Ancient damnation ! O most wicked fiend !
+Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn ,
+Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue
+Which she hath prais'd him with above compare
+So many thousand times ? Go , counsellor ;
+Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain .
+I'll to the friar , to know his remedy :
+If all else fail , myself have power to die .
+
+
+On Thursday , sir ? the time is very short .
+
+My father Capulet will have it so ;
+And I am nothing slow to slack his haste .
+
+You say you do not know the lady's mind :
+Uneven is the course , I like it not .
+
+Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death ,
+And therefore have I little talk'd of love ;
+For Venus smiles not in a house of tears .
+Now , sir , her father counts it dangerous
+That she doth give her sorrow so much sway ,
+And in his wisdom hastes our marriage
+To stop the inundation of her tears ;
+Which , too much minded by herself alone ,
+May be put from her by society .
+Now do you know the reason of this haste .
+
+I would I knew not why it should be slow'd .
+Look , sir , here comes the lady towards my cell .
+
+
+Happily met , my lady and my wife !
+
+That may be , sir , when I may be a wife .
+
+That may be must be , love , on Thursday next .
+
+What must be shall be .
+
+That's a certain text .
+
+Come you to make confession to this father ?
+
+To answer that , I should confess to you .
+
+Do not deny to him that you love me .
+
+I will confess to you that I love him .
+
+So will ye , I am sure , that you love me .
+
+If I do so , it will be of more price ,
+Being spoke behind your back , than to your face .
+
+Poor soul , thy face is much abus'd with tears .
+
+The tears have got small victory by that ;
+For it was bad enough before their spite .
+
+Thou wrong'st it , more than tears , with that report .
+
+That is no slander , sir , which is a truth ;
+And what I spake , I spake it to my face .
+
+Thy face is mine , and thou hast slander'd it .
+
+It may be so , for it is not mine own .
+Are you at leisure , holy father , now ;
+Or shall I come to you at evening mass ?
+
+My leisure serves me , pensive daughter , now :
+My lord , we must entreat the time alone .
+
+God shield , I should disturb devotion !
+Juliet , on Thursday early will I rouse you :
+Till then , adieu ; and keep this holy kiss .
+
+
+O ! shut the door ! and when thou hast done so ,
+Come weep with me ; past hope , past cure , past help !
+
+Ah ! Juliet , I already know thy grief ;
+It strains me past the compass of my wits :
+I hear thou must , and nothing may prorogue it ,
+On Thursday next be married to this county .
+
+Tell me not , friar , that thou hear'st of this ,
+Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it :
+If , in thy wisdom , thou canst give no help ,
+Do thou but call my resolution wise ,
+And with this knife I'll help it presently ,
+God join'd my heart and Romeo's , thou our hands ;
+And ere this hand , by thee to Romeo seal'd ,
+Shall be the label to another deed ,
+Or my true heart with treacherous revolt
+Turn to another , this shall slay them both .
+Therefore , out of thy long-experienc'd time ,
+Give me some present counsel ; or behold ,
+'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife
+Shall play the umpire , arbitrating that
+Which the commission of thy years and art
+Could to no issue of true honour bring .
+Be not so long to speak ; I long to die ,
+If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy .
+
+Hold , daughter ; I do spy a kind of hope ,
+Which craves as desperate an execution
+As that is desperate which we would prevent .
+If , rather than to marry County Paris ,
+Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself ,
+Then is it likely thou wilt undertake
+A thing like death to chide away this shame ,
+That cop'st with death himself to 'scape from it ;
+And , if thou dar'st , I'll give thee remedy .
+
+O ! bid me leap , rather than marry Paris ,
+From off the battlements of yonder tower ;
+Or walk in thievish ways ; or bid me lurk
+Where serpents are ; chain me with roaring bears ;
+Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house ,
+O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones ,
+With reeky shanks , and yellow chapless skulls ;
+Or bid me go into a new-made grave
+And hide me with a dead man in his shroud ;
+Things that , to hear them told , have made me tremble ;
+And I will do it without fear or doubt ,
+To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love .
+
+Hold , then ; go home , be merry , give consent
+To marry Paris : Wednesday is to-morrow !
+To-morrow night look that thou lie alone ,
+Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber :
+Take thou this vial , being then in bed ,
+And this distilled liquor drink thou off ;
+When presently through all thy veins shall run
+A cold and drowsy humour , for no pulse
+Shall keep his native progress , but surcease ;
+No warmth , no breath , shall testify thou liv'st ;
+The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade
+To paly ashes ; thy eyes' windows fall ,
+Like death , when he shuts up the day of life ;
+Each part , depriv'd of supple government ,
+Shall , stiff and stark and cold , appear like death ;
+And in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk death
+Thou shalt continue two-and-forty hours ,
+And then awake as from a pleasant sleep .
+Now , when the bridegroom in the morning comes
+To rouse thee from thy bed , there art thou dead :
+Then as the manner of our country is
+In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier ,
+Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault
+Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie .
+In the mean time , against thou shalt awake ,
+Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift ,
+And hither shall he come ; and he and I
+Will watch thy waking , and that very night
+Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua .
+And this shall free thee from this present shame ;
+If no unconstant toy , nor womanish fear ,
+Abate thy valour in the acting it .
+
+Give me , give me ! O ! tell me not of fear !
+
+Hold ; get you gone , be strong and prosperous
+In this resolve . I'll send a friar with speed
+To Mantua , with my letters to thy lord .
+
+Love , give me strength ! and strength shall help afford .
+Farewell , dear father !
+
+
+So many guests invite as here are writ .
+
+Sirrah , go hire me twenty cunning cooks .
+
+You shall have none ill , sir ; for
+I'll try if they can lick their fingers .
+
+How canst thou try them so ?
+
+Marry , sir , 'tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers : therefore he that cannot lick his fingers goes not with me .
+
+Go , be gone .
+
+We shall be much unfurnish'd for this time .
+What ! is my daughter gone to Friar Laurence ?
+
+Ay , forsooth .
+
+Well , he may chance to do some good on her :
+A peevish self-will'd harlotry it is .
+
+See where she comes from shrift with merry look .
+
+
+How now , my headstrong ! where have you been gadding ?
+
+Where I have learn'd me to repent the sin
+Of disobedient opposition
+To you and your behests ; and am enjoin'd
+By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here ,
+And beg your pardon . Pardon , I beseech you !
+Henceforward I am ever rul'd by you .
+
+Send for the county ; go tell him of this :
+I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morning .
+
+I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell ;
+And gave him what becomed love I might ,
+Not stepping o'er the bounds of modesty .
+
+Why , I'm glad on't ; this is well : stand up :
+This is as't should be . Let me see the county ;
+Ay , marry , go , I say , and fetch him hither .
+Now , afore God ! this reverend holy friar ,
+All our whole city is much bound to him .
+
+Nurse , will you go with me into my closet ,
+To help me sort such needful ornaments
+As you think fit to furnish me to-morrow ?
+
+No , not till Thursday ; there is time enough .
+
+Go , nurse , go with her . We'll to church to-morrow .
+
+
+We shall be short in our provision :
+'Tis now near night .
+
+Tush ! I will stir about ,
+And all things shall be well , I warrant thee , wife :
+Go thou to Juliet , help to deck up her ;
+I'll not to bed to-night ; let me alone ;
+I'll play the housewife for this once . What , ho !
+They are all forth : well , I will walk myself
+To County Paris ; to prepare him up
+Against to-morrow . My heart is wondrous light ,
+Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd .
+
+
+Ay , those attires are best ; but , gentle nurse ,
+I pray thee , leave me to myself to-night ;
+For I have need of many orisons
+To move the heavens to smile upon my state ,
+Which , well thou know'st , is cross and full of sin .
+
+
+What ! are you busy , ho ? need you my help ?
+
+No , madam ; we have cull'd such necessaries
+As are behoveful for our state to-morrow :
+So please you , let me now be left alone ,
+And let the nurse this night sit up with you ;
+For , I am sure , you have your hands full all
+In this so sudden business .
+
+Good-night :
+Get thee to bed , and rest ; for thou hast need .
+
+
+Farewell ! God knows when we shall meet again .
+I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins ,
+That almost freezes up the heat of life :
+I'll call them back again to comfort me :
+Nurse ! What should she do here ?
+My dismal scene I needs must act alone .
+Come , vial .
+What if this mixture do not work at all ?
+Shall I be married then to-morrow morning ?
+No , no ; this shall forbid it : lie thou there .
+
+What if it be a poison , which the friar
+Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead ,
+Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour'd
+Because he married me before to Romeo ?
+I fear it is : and yet , methinks , it should not ,
+For he hath still been tried a holy man .
+I will not entertain so bad a thought .
+How if , when I am laid into the tomb ,
+I wake before the time that Romeo
+Come to redeem me ? there's a fearful point !
+Shall I not then be stifled in the vault ,
+To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in ,
+And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes ?
+Or , if I live , is it not very like ,
+The horrible conceit of death and night ,
+Together with the terror of the place ,
+As in a vault , an ancient receptacle ,
+Where , for these many hundred years , the bones
+Of all my buried ancestors are pack'd ;
+Where bloody Tybalt , yet but green in earth ,
+Lies festering in his shroud ; where , as they say ,
+At some hours in the night spirits resort :
+Alack , alack ! is it not like that I ,
+So early waking , what with loathsome smells ,
+And shrieks like mandrakes' torn out of the earth ,
+That living mortals , hearing them , run mad :
+O ! if I wake , shall I not be distraught ,
+Environed with all these hideous fears ,
+And madly play with my forefathers' joints ,
+And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud ?
+And , in this rage , with some great kinsman's bone ,
+As with a club , dash out my desperate brains ?
+O , look ! methinks I see my cousin's ghost
+Seeking out Romeo , that did spit his body
+Upon a rapier's point . Stay , Tybalt , stay !
+Romeo , I come ! this do I drink to thee .
+
+
+Hold , take these keys , and fetch more spices , nurse .
+
+They call for dates and quinces in the pastry .
+
+
+Come , stir , stir , stir ! the second cock hath crow'd ,
+The curfew bell hath rung , 'tis three o'clock :
+Look to the bak'd meats , good Angelica :
+Spare not for cost .
+
+Go , go , you cot-quean , go ;
+Get you to bed ; faith , you'll be sick to-morrow
+For this night's watching .
+
+No , not a whit ; what ! I have watch'd ere now
+All night for lesser cause , and ne'er been sick .
+
+Ay , you have been a mouse-hunt in your time ;
+But I will watch you from such watching now .
+
+
+A jealous-hood , a jealous-hood !
+
+
+Now , fellow ,
+
+What's there ?
+
+Things for the cook , sir ; but I know not what .
+
+Make haste , make haste .
+
+Sirrah , fetch drier logs :
+Call Peter , he will show thee where they are .
+
+I have a head , sir , that will find out logs ,
+And never trouble Peter for the matter .
+
+
+Mass , and well said ; a merry whoreson , ha !
+Thou shalt be logger-head . Good faith ! 'tis day :
+The county will be here with music straight ,
+For so he said he would .
+
+I hear him near .
+Nurse ! Wife ! what , ho ! What , nurse , I say !
+
+
+Go waken Juliet , go and trim her up ;
+I'll go and chat with Paris . Hie , make haste ,
+Make haste ; the bridegroom he is come already :
+Make haste , I say .
+
+Mistress ! what , mistress ! Juliet ! fast , I warrant her , she :
+Why , lamb ! why , lady ! fie , you slug-a-bed !
+Why , love , I say ! madam ! sweet-heart ! why , bride !
+What ! not a word ? you take your pennyworths now :
+Sleep for a week ; for the next night , I warrant ,
+The County Paris hath set up his rest ,
+That you shall rest but little . God forgive me ,
+Marry , and amen , how sound is she asleep !
+I needs must wake her . Madam , madam , madam !
+Ay , let the county take you in your bed ;
+He'll fright you up , i' faith . Will it not be ?
+What , dress'd ! and in your clothes ! and down again !
+I must needs wake you . Lady ! lady ! lady !
+Alas ! alas ! Help ! help ! my lady's dead !
+O ! well-a-day , that ever I was born .
+Some aqua-vit , ho ! My lord ! my lady !
+
+
+What noise is here ?
+
+O lamentable day !
+
+What is the matter ?
+
+Look , look ! O heavy day !
+
+O me , O me ! my child , my only life ,
+Revive , look up , or I will die with thee !
+Help , help ! Call help .
+
+
+For shame ! bring Juliet forth ; her lord is come .
+
+She's dead , deceas'd , she's dead ; alack the day !
+
+Alack the day ! she's dead , she's dead ! she's dead !
+
+Ha ! let me see her . Out , alas ! she's cold ;
+Her blood is settled , and her joints are stiff ;
+Life and these lips have long been separated :
+Death lies on her like an untimely frost
+Upon the sweetest flower of all the field .
+
+O lamentable day !
+
+O woeful time !
+
+Death , that hath ta'en her hence to make me wail ,
+Ties up my tongue , and will not let me speak .
+
+
+Come , is the bride ready to go to church ?
+
+Ready to go , but never to return .
+O son ! the night before thy wedding-day
+Hath Death lain with thy wife . There she lies ,
+Flower as she was , deflowered by him .
+Death is my son-in-law , Death is my heir ;
+My daughter he hath wedded : I will die ,
+And leave him all ; life , living , all is Death's !
+
+Have I thought long to see this morning's face ,
+And doth it give me such a sight as this ?
+
+Accurs'd , unhappy , wretched , hateful-day !
+Most miserable hour , that e'er time saw
+In lasting labour of his pilgrimage !
+But one , poor one , one poor and loving child ,
+But one thing to rejoice and solace in ,
+And cruel death hath catch'd it from my sight !
+
+O woe ! O woeful , woeful , woeful day !
+Most lamentable day , most woeful day ,
+That ever , ever , I did yet behold !
+O day ! O day ! O day ! O hateful day !
+Never was seen so black a day as this :
+O woeful day , O woeful day !
+
+Beguil'd , divorced , wronged , spited , slain !
+Most detestable death , by thee beguil'd ,
+By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown !
+O love ! O life ! not life , but love in death !
+
+Despis'd , distressed , hated , martyr'd , kill'd !
+Uncomfortable time , why cam'st thou now
+To murder , murder our solemnity ?
+O child ! O child ! my soul , and not my child !
+Dead art thou ! dead ! alack , my child is dead ;
+And with my child my joys are buried !
+
+Peace , ho ! for shame ! confusion's cure lives not
+In these confusions . Heaven and yourself
+Had part in this fair maid ; now heaven hath all ,
+And all the better is it for the maid :
+Your part in her you could not keep from death ,
+But heaven keeps his part in eternal life .
+The most you sought was her promotion ,
+For 'twas your heaven she should be advanc'd ;
+And weep ye now , seeing she is advanc'd
+Above the clouds , as high as heaven itself ?
+O ! in this love , you love your child so ill ,
+That you run mad , seeing that she is well :
+She's not well married that lives married long ;
+But she's best married that dies married young .
+Dry up your tears , and stick your rosemary
+On this fair corse ; and , as the custom is ,
+In all her best array bear her to church ;
+For though fond nature bids us all lament ,
+Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment .
+
+All things that we ordained festival ,
+Turn from their office to black funeral ;
+Our instruments to melancholy bells ,
+Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast ,
+Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change ,
+Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse ,
+And all things change them to the contrary .
+
+Sir , go you in ; and , madam , go with him ;
+And go , Sir Paris ; every one prepare
+To follow this fair corse unto her grave .
+The heavens do lower upon you for some ill ;
+Move them no more by crossing their high will .
+
+
+Faith , we may put up our pipes , and be gone .
+
+Honest good fellows , ah ! put up , put up , for , well you know , this is a pitiful case .
+
+
+Ay , by my troth , the case may be amended .
+
+
+Musicians ! O ! musicians , 'Heart's ease , Heart's ease :' O ! an ye will have me live , play 'Heart's ease .'
+
+Why 'Heart's ease ?'
+
+O ! musicians , because my heart itself plays 'My heart is full of woe ;' O ! play me some merry dump , to comfort me .
+
+Not a dump we ; 'tis no time to play now .
+
+You will not then ?
+
+No .
+
+I will then give it you soundly .
+
+What will you give us ?
+
+No money , on my faith ! but the gleek ;
+I will give you the minstrel .
+
+Then will I give you the serving-creature .
+
+Then will I lay the serving-creature's dagger on your pate , I will carry no crotchets :
+I'll re you , I'll fa you . Do you note me ?
+
+An you re us , and fa us , you note us .
+
+Pray you , put up your dagger , and put out your wit .
+
+Then have at you with my wit ! I will dry-beat you with an iron wit , and put up my iron dagger . Answer me like men :
+
+When griping grief the heart doth wound ,
+And doleful dumps the mind oppress ,
+Then music with her silver sound
+
+Why 'silver sound ?' why 'music with her silver sound ?' What say you , Simon Catling ?
+
+Marry , sir , because silver hath a sweet sound .
+
+Pretty ! What say you , Hugh Rebeck ?
+
+I say 'silver sound ,' because musicians sound for silver .
+
+Pretty too ! What say you , James Soundpost ?
+
+Faith , I know not what to say .
+
+O ! I cry you mercy ; you are the singer ;
+I will say for you . It is , 'music with her silver sound ,' because musicians have no gold for sounding :
+
+Then music with her silver sound
+With speedy help doth lend redress .
+
+What a pestilent knave is this same !
+
+Hang him , Jack ! Come , we'll in here ; tarry for the mourners , and stay dinner .
+
+
+If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep ,
+My dreams presage some joyful news at hand :
+My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne ;
+And all this day an unaccustom'd spirit
+Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts .
+I dreamt my lady came and found me dead ;
+Strange dream , that gives a dead man leave to think ,
+And breath'd such life with kisses in my lips ,
+That I reviv'd , and was an emperor .
+Ah me ! how sweet is love itself possess'd ,
+When but love's shadows are so rich in joy !
+
+
+News from Verona ! How now , Balthasar ?
+Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar ?
+How doth my lady ? Is my father well ?
+How fares my Juliet ? That I ask again ;
+
+For nothing can be ill if she be well .
+
+Then she is well , and nothing can be ill ;
+Her body sleeps in Capel's monument ,
+And her immortal part with angels lives .
+I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault ,
+And presently took post to tell it you .
+O ! pardon me for bringing these ill news ,
+Since you did leave it for my office , sir .
+
+Is it even so ? then I defy you , stars !
+Thou know'st my lodging : get me ink and paper ,
+And hire post-horses ; I will hence to-night .
+
+I do beseech you , sir , have patience :
+Your looks are pale and wild , and do import
+Some misadventure .
+
+Tush , thou art deceiv'd ;
+Leave me , and do the thing I bid thee do .
+Hast thou no letters to me from the friar ?
+
+No , my good lord .
+
+No matter ; get thee gone ,
+And hire those horses : I'll be with thee straight .
+
+Well , Juliet , I will he with thee to-night .
+Let's see for means : O mischief ! thou art swift
+To enter in the thoughts of desperate men .
+I do remember an apothecary ,
+And hereabouts he dwells , which late I noted
+In tatter'd weeds , with overwhelming brows ,
+Culling of simples ; meagre were his looks ,
+Sharp misery had worn him to the bones :
+And in his needy shop a tortoise hung ,
+An alligator stuff'd , and other skins
+Of ill-shap'd fishes ; and about his shelves
+A beggarly account of empty boxes ,
+Green earthen pots , bladders , and musty seeds ,
+Remnants of packthread , and old cakes of roses ,
+Were thinly scatter'd , to make up a show .
+Noting this penury , to myself I said
+An if a man did need a poison now ,
+Whose sale is present death in Mantua ,
+Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him .
+O ! this same thought did but fore-run my need ,
+And this same needy man must sell it me .
+As I remember , this should be the house :
+Being holiday , the beggar's shop is shut .
+What , ho ! apothecary !
+
+
+Who calls so loud ?
+
+Come hither , man . I see that thou art poor ;
+Hold , there is forty ducats ; let me have
+A dram of poison , such soon-speeding gear
+As will disperse itself through all the veins
+That the life-weary taker may fall dead ,
+And that the trunk may be discharg'd of breath
+As violently as hasty powder fir'd
+Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb .
+
+Such mortal drugs I have ; but Mantua's law
+Is death to any he that utters them .
+
+Art thou so bare , and full of wretchedness ,
+And fear'st to die ? famine is in thy cheeks ,
+Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes ,
+Contempt and beggary hang upon thy back ;
+The world is not thy friend nor the world's law :
+The world affords no law to make thee rich ;
+Then be not poor , but break it , and take this .
+
+My poverty , but not my will , consents .
+
+I pay thy poverty , and not thy will .
+
+Put this in any liquid thing you will ,
+And drink it off ; and , if you had the strength
+Of twenty men , it would dispatch you straight .
+
+There is thy gold , worse poison to men's souls ,
+Doing more murders in this loathsome world
+Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell :
+I sell thee poison , thou hast sold me none .
+Farewell ; buy food , and get thyself in flesh .
+Come , cordial and not poison , go with me
+To Juliet's grave , for there must I use thee .
+
+
+Holy Franciscan friar ! brother , ho !
+
+
+This same should be the voice of Friar John .
+Welcome from Mantua : what says Romeo ?
+Or , if his mind be writ , give me his letter .
+
+Going to find a bare-foot brother out ,
+One of our order , to associate me ,
+Here in this city visiting the sick ,
+And finding him , the searchers of the town ,
+Suspecting that we both were in a house
+Where the infectious pestilence did reign ,
+Seal'd up the doors , and would not let us forth ;
+So that my speed to Mantua there was stay'd .
+
+Who bare my letter then to Romeo ?
+
+I could not send it , here it is again ,
+Nor get a messenger to bring it thee ,
+So fearful were they of infection .
+
+Unhappy fortune ! by my brotherhood ,
+The letter was not nice , but full of charge
+Of dear import ; and the neglecting it
+May do much danger . Friar John , go hence ;
+Get me an iron crow , and bring it straight
+Unto my cell .
+
+Brother , I'll go and bring it thee .
+
+
+Now must I to the monument alone ;
+Within these three hours will fair Juliet wake :
+She will beshrew me much that Romeo
+Hath had no notice of these accidents ;
+But I will write again to Mantus ,
+And keep her at my cell till Romeo come :
+Poor living corse , clos'd in a dead man's tomb !
+
+
+Give me thy torch , boy : hence , and stand aloof ;
+Yet put it out , for I would not be seen .
+Under yond yew-trees lay thee all along ,
+Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground :
+So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread ,
+Being loose , unfirm with digging up of graves ,
+But thou shalt hear it : whistle then to me ,
+As signal that thou hear'st something approach .
+Give me those flowers . Do as I bid thee ; go .
+
+I am almost afraid to stand alone
+Here in the churchyard ; yet I will adventure .
+
+
+Sweet flower , with flowers thy bridal bed I strew ,
+O woe ! thy canopy is dust and stones ;
+Which with sweet water nightly I will dew ,
+Or , wanting that , with tears distill'd by moans :
+The obsequies that I for thee will keep
+Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep .
+
+The boy gives warning something doth approach .
+What cursed foot wanders this way to-night ,
+To cross my obsequies and true love's rite ?
+What ! with a torch ?muffle me , night , awhile .
+
+Give me that mattock , and the wrenching iron .
+Hold , take this letter ; early in the morning
+See thou deliver it to my lord and father .
+Give me the light : upon thy life I charge thee ,
+Whate'er thou hear'st or seest , stand all aloof ,
+And do not interrupt me in my course .
+Why I descend into this bed of death ,
+Is partly , to behold my lady's face ;
+But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger
+A precious ring , a ring that I must use
+In dear employment : therefore hence , be gone :
+But , if thou , jealous , dost return to pry
+In what I further shall intend to do ,
+By heaven , I will tear thee joint by joint ,
+And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs .
+The time and my intents are savage-wild ,
+More fierce and more inexorable far
+Than empty tigers or the roaring sea .
+
+I will be gone , sir , and not trouble you .
+
+So shalt thou show me friendship . Take thou that :
+Live , and be prosperous ; and farewell , good fellow .
+
+For all this same , I'll hide me here about :
+His looks I fear , and his intents I doubt .
+
+
+Thou detestable maw , thou womb of death ,
+Gorg'd with the dearest morsel of the earth ,
+Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open ,
+
+And , in despite , I'll cram thee with more food !
+
+This is that banish'd haughty Montague ,
+That murder'd my love's cousin , with which grief
+It is supposed the fair creature died ;
+And here is come to do some villanous shame
+To the dead bodies : I will apprehend him .
+
+Stop thy unhallow'd toil , vile Montague ,
+Can vengeance be pursu'd further than death ?
+Condemned villain , I do apprehend thee :
+Obey , and go with me ; for thou must die .
+
+I must , indeed ; and therefore came I hither .
+Good gentle youth , tempt not a desperate man ;
+Fly hence and leave me : think upon these gone ;
+Let them affright thee . I beseech thee , youth ,
+Put not another sin upon my head
+By urging me to fury : O ! be gone :
+By heaven , I love thee better than myself .
+For I come hither arm'd against myself :
+Stay not , be gone ; live , and hereafter say
+A madman's mercy bade thee run away .
+
+I do defy thy conjurations ,
+And apprehend thee for a felon here .
+
+Wilt thou provoke me ? then have at thee , boy !
+
+
+O Lord ! they fight : I will go call the watch .
+
+
+O , I am slain !If thou be merciful ,
+Open the tomb , lay me with Juliet .
+
+
+In faith , I will . Let me peruse this face :
+Mercutio's kinsman , noble County Paris !
+What said my man when my betossed soul
+Did not attend him as we rode ? I think
+He told me Paris should have married Juliet :
+Said he not so ? or did I dream it so ?
+Or am I mad , hearing him talk of Juliet ,
+To think it was so ? O ! give me thy hand ,
+One writ with me in sour misfortune's book :
+I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave ;
+A grave ? O , no ! a lanthorn , slaughter'd youth ,
+For here lies Juliet , and her beauty makes
+This vault a feasting presence full of light .
+Death , lie thou there , by a dead man interr'd ,
+
+How oft when men are at the point of death
+Have they been merry ! which their keepers call
+A lightning before death : O ! how may I
+Call this a lightning ? O my love ! my wife !
+Death , that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath ,
+Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty :
+Thou art not conquer'd ; beauty's ensign yet
+Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks ,
+And death's pale flag is not advanced there .
+Tybalt , liest thou there in thy bloody sheet ?
+O ! what more favour can I do to thee ,
+Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain
+To sunder his that was thine enemy ?
+Forgive me , cousin ! Ah ! dear Juliet ,
+Why art thou yet so fair ? Shall I believe
+That unsubstantial Death is amorous ,
+And that the lean abhorred monster keeps
+Thee here in dark to be his paramour ?
+For fear of that I still will stay with thee ,
+And never from this palace of dim night
+Depart again : here , here will I remain
+With worms that are thy chambermaids ; O ! here
+Will I set up my everlasting rest ,
+And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars
+From this world-wearied flesh . Eyes , look your last !
+Arms , take your last embrace ! and , lips , O you
+The doors of breath , seal with a righteous kiss
+A dateless bargain to engrossing death !
+Come , bitter conduct , come , unsavoury guide !
+Thou desperate pilot , now at once run on
+The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark !
+Here's to my love !
+
+O true apothecary !
+Thy drugs are quick . Thus with a kiss I die .
+
+Saint Francis be my speed ! how oft to-night
+Have my old feet stumbled at graves ! Who's there ?
+
+Here's one , a friend , and one that knows you well .
+
+Bliss be upon you ! Tell me , good my friend ,
+What torch is yond , that vainly lends his light
+To grubs and eyeless skulls ? as I discern ,
+It burneth in the Capel's monument .
+
+It doth so , holy sir ; and there's my master ,
+One that you love .
+
+Who is it ?
+
+Romeo .
+
+How long hath he been there ?
+
+Full half an hour .
+
+Go with me to the vault .
+
+I dare not , sir .
+My master knows not but I am gone hence ;
+And fearfully did menace me with death
+If I did stay to look on his intents .
+
+Stay then , I'll go alone . Fear comes upon me ;
+O ! much I fear some ill unlucky thing .
+
+As I did sleep under this yew-tree here ,
+I dreamt my master and another fought ,
+And that my master slew him .
+
+Romeo !
+Alack , alack ! what blood is this which stains
+The stony entrance of this sepulchre ?
+What mean these masterless and gory swords
+To lie discolour'd by this place of peace ?
+
+Romeo ! O , pale ! Who else ? what ! Paris too ?
+And steep'd in blood ? Ah ! what an unkind hour
+Is guilty of this lamentable chance .
+The lady stirs .
+
+
+O , comfortable friar ! where is my lord ?
+I do remember well where I should be ,
+And there I am . Where is my Romeo ?
+
+
+I hear some noise . Lady , come from that nest
+Of death , contagion , and unnatural sleep :
+A greater power than we can contradict
+Hath thwarted our intents : come , come away .
+Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead ;
+And Paris too : come , I'll dispose of thee
+Among a sisterhood of holy nuns .
+Stay not to question , for the watch is coming ;
+Come , go , good Juliet .
+
+I dare no longer stay .
+
+Go , get thee hence , for I will not away .
+
+What's here ? a cup , clos'd in my true love's hand ?
+Poison , I see , hath been his timeless end .
+O churl ! drunk all , and left no friendly drop
+To help me after ! I will kiss thy lips ;
+Haply , some poison yet doth hang on them ,
+To make me die with a restorative .
+
+Thy lips are warm !
+
+Lead , boy : which way ?
+
+Yea , noise ? then I'll be brief . O happy dagger !
+
+This is thy sheath ;
+
+there rest , and let me die .
+
+This is the place ; there where the torch doth burn .
+
+The ground is bloody ; search about the churchyard .
+Go , some of you ; whoe'er you find , attach .
+
+Pitiful sight ! here lies the county slain ,
+And Juliet bleeding , warm , and newly dead ,
+Who here hath lain these two days buried .
+Go , tell the prince , run to the Capulets ,
+Raise up the Montagues , some others search :
+
+We see the ground whereon these woes do lie ;
+But the true ground of all these piteous woes
+We cannot without circumstance descry .
+
+
+Here's Romeo's man ; we found him in the churchyard .
+
+Hold him in safety , till the prince come hither .
+
+
+Here is a friar , that trembles , sighs , and weeps ;
+We took this mattock and this spade from him ,
+As he was coming from this churchyard side .
+
+A great suspicion : stay the friar too .
+
+
+What misadventure is so early up ,
+That calls our person from our morning's rest ?
+
+
+What should it be , that they so shriek abroad ?
+
+The people in the street cry Romeo ,
+Some Juliet , and some Paris ; and all run
+With open outcry toward our monument .
+
+What fear is this which startles in our ears ?
+
+Sovereign , here lies the County Paris slain ;
+And Romeo dead ; and Juliet , dead before ,
+Warm and new kill'd .
+
+Search , seek , and know how this foul murder comes .
+
+Here is a friar , and slaughter'd Romeo's man ;
+With instruments upon them , fit to open
+These dead men's tombs .
+
+O , heaven !O wife ! look how our daughter bleeds !
+This dagger hath mista'en !for , lo , his house
+Is empty on the back of Montague
+And is mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom .
+
+O me ! this sight of death is as a bell ,
+That warns my old age to a sepulchre .
+
+
+Come , Montague : for thou art early up ,
+To see thy son and heir more early down .
+
+Alas ! my liege , my wife is dead to-night ;
+Grief of my son's exile hath stopp'd her breath .
+What further woe conspires against mine age ?
+
+Look , and thou shalt see .
+
+O thou untaught ! what manners is in this ,
+To press before thy father to a grave ?
+
+Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while ,
+Till we can clear these ambiguities ,
+And know their spring , their head , their true descent ;
+And then will I be general of your woes ,
+And lead you even to death : meantime forbear ,
+And let mischance be slave to patience .
+Bring forth the parties of suspicion .
+
+I am the greatest , able to do least ,
+Yet most suspected , as the time and place
+Doth make against me , of this direful murder ;
+And here I stand , both to impeach and purge
+Myself condemned and myself excus'd .
+
+Then say at once what thou dost know in this .
+
+I will be brief , for my short date of breath
+Is not so long as is a tedious tale .
+Romeo , there dead , was husband to that Juliet ;
+And she , there dead , that Romeo's faithful wife :
+I married them ; and their stolen marriage-day
+Was Tybalt's doomsday , whose untimely death
+Banish'd the new-made bridegroom from this city ;
+For whom , and not for Tybalt , Juliet pin'd .
+You , to remove that siege of grief from her ,
+Betroth'd , and would have married her perforce ,
+To County Paris : then comes she to me ,
+And , with wild looks bid me devise some mean
+To rid her from this second marriage ,
+Or in my cell there would she kill herself .
+Then gave I her ,so tutor'd by my art ,
+A sleeping potion ; which so took effect
+As I intended , for it wrought on her
+The form of death : meantime I writ to Romeo
+That he should hither come as this dire night ,
+To help to take her from her borrow'd grave ,
+Being the time the potion's force should cease .
+But he which bore my letter , Friar John ,
+Was stay'd by accident , and yesternight
+Return'd my letter back . Then , all alone ,
+At the prefixed hour of her waking ,
+Came I to take her from her kindred's vault ,
+Meaning to keep her closely at my cell ,
+Till I conveniently could send to Romeo :
+But , when I came ,some minute ere the time
+Of her awakening ,here untimely lay
+The noble Paris and true Romeo dead .
+She wakes ; and I entreated her come forth ,
+And bear this work of heaven with patience ;
+But then a noise did scare me from the tomb ,
+And she , too desperate , would not go with me ,
+But , as it seems , did violence on herself .
+All this I know ; and to the marriage
+Her nurse is privy : and , if aught in this
+Miscarried by my fault , let my old life
+Be sacrific'd , some hour before his time ,
+Unto the rigour of severest law .
+
+We still have known thee for a holy man .
+Where's Romeo's man ? what can he say in this ?
+
+I brought my master news of Juliet's death ;
+And then in post he came from Mantua
+To this same place , to this same monument .
+This letter he early bid me give his father ,
+And threaten'd me with death , going in the vault ,
+If I departed not and left him there .
+
+Give me the letter ; I will look on it .
+Where is the county's page that rais'd the watch ?
+Sirrah , what made your master in this place ?
+
+He came with flowers to strew his lady's grave ,
+And bid me stand aloof , and so I did ;
+Anon , comes one with light to ope the tomb ;
+And by and by my master drew on him ;
+And then I ran away to call the watch .
+
+This letter doth make good the friar's words ,
+Their course of love , the tidings of her death :
+And here he writes that he did buy a poison
+Of a poor 'pothecary , and therewithal
+Came to this vault to die , and lie with Juliet .
+Where be these enemies ?Capulet ! Montague !
+See what a scourge is laid upon your hate ,
+That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love ;
+And I , for winking at your discords too ,
+Have lost a brace of kinsmen : all are punish'd .
+
+O brother Montague ! give me thy hand :
+This is my daughter's jointure , for no more
+Can I demand .
+
+But I can give thee more ;
+For I will raise her statue in pure gold ;
+That while Verona by that name is known .
+There shall no figure at such rate be set
+As that of true and faithful Juliet .
+
+As rich shall Romeo by his lady lie ;
+Poor sacrifices of our enmity !
+
+A glooming peace this morning with it brings ;
+The sun , for sorrow , will not show his head :
+Go hence , to have more talk of these sad things :
+Some shall be pardon'd , and some punished :
+For never was a story of more woe
+Than this of Juliet and her Romeo .
+
+TIMON OF ATHENS
+
+Good day , sir .
+
+I am glad you're well .
+
+I have not seen you long . How goes the world ?
+
+It wears , sir , as it grows .
+
+Ay , that's well known ;
+But what particular rarity ? what strange ,
+Which manifold record not matches ? See ,
+Magic of bounty ! all these spirits thy power
+Hath conjur'd to attend . I know the merchant .
+
+I know them both ; th' other's a jeweller .
+
+O ! 'tis a worthy lord .
+
+Nay , that's most fix'd .
+
+A most incomparable man , breath'd , as it were ,
+To an untirable and continuate goodness :
+He passes .
+
+I have a jewel here
+
+O ! pray , let's see 't : for the Lord Timon , sir ?
+
+If he will touch the estimate : but , for that
+
+When we for recompense have prais'd the vile ,
+It stains the glory in that happy verse
+Which aptly sings the good .
+
+'Tis a good form .
+
+And rich : here is a water , look ye .
+
+You are rapt , sir , in some work , some dedication
+To the great lord .
+
+A thing slipp'd idly from me .
+Our poesy is as a gum , which oozes
+From whence 'tis nourish'd : the fire i' the flint
+Shows not till it be struck ; our gentle flame
+Provokes itself , and , like the current flies
+Each bound it chafes . What have you there ?
+
+A picture , sir . When comes your book forth ?
+
+Upon the heels of my presentment , sir .
+Let's see your piece .
+
+'Tis a good piece .
+
+So 'tis : this comes off well and excellent .
+
+Indifferent .
+
+Admirable ! How this grace
+Speaks his own standing ! what a mental power
+This eye shoots forth ! how big imagination
+Moves in this lip ! to the dumbness of the gesture
+One might interpret .
+
+It is a pretty mocking of the life .
+Here is a touch ; is 't good ?
+
+I'll say of it ,
+It tutors nature : artificial strife
+Lives in these touches , livelier than life .
+
+
+How this lord is follow'd !
+
+The senators of Athens : happy man !
+
+Look , more !
+
+You see this confluence , this great flood of visitors .
+I have , in this rough work , shap'd out a man ,
+Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug
+With amplest entertainment : my free drift
+Halts not particularly , but moves itself
+In a wide sea of wax : no levell'd malice
+Infects one comma in the course I hold ;
+But flies an eagle flight , bold and forth on ,
+Leaving no tract behind .
+
+How shall I understand you ?
+
+I will unbolt to you .
+You see how all conditions , how all minds
+As well of glib and slippery creatures as
+Of grave and austere quality tender down
+Their services to Lord Timon : his large fortune ,
+Upon his good and gracious nature hanging ,
+Subdues and properties to his love and tendance
+All sorts of hearts ; yea , from the glass-fac'd flatterer
+To Apemantus , that few things loves better
+Than to abhor himself : even he drops down
+The knee before him and returns in peace
+Most rich in Timon's nod .
+
+I saw them speak together .
+
+Sir , I have upon a high and pleasant hill
+Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd : the base o' the mount
+Is rank'd with all deserts , all kind of natures ,
+That labour on the bosom of this sphere
+To propagate their states : amongst them all ,
+Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix'd ,
+One do I personate of Lord Timon's frame ,
+Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her ;
+Whose present grace to present slaves and servants
+Translates his rivals .
+
+'Tis conceiv'd to scope .
+This throne , this Fortune , and this hill , methinks ,
+With one man beckon'd from the rest below ,
+Bowing his head against the steepy mount
+To climb his happiness , would be well express'd
+In our condition .
+
+Nay , sir , but hear me on .
+All those which were his fellows but of late ,
+Some better than his value , on the moment
+Follow his strides , his lobbies fill with tendance ,
+Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear ,
+Make sacred even his stirrup , and through him
+Drink the free air .
+
+Ay , marry , what of these ?
+
+When Fortune in her shift and change of mood
+Spurns down her late belov'd , all his dependants
+Which labour'd after him to the mountain's top
+Even on their knees and hands , let him slip down ,
+Not one accompanying his declining foot .
+
+'Tis common :
+A thousand moral paintings I can show
+That shall demonstrate these quick blows of Fortune's
+More pregnantly than words . Yet you do well
+To show Lord Timon that mean eyes have seen
+The foot above the head .
+
+
+Imprison'd is he , say you ?
+
+Ay , my good lord : five talents is his debt ,
+His means most short , his creditors most strait :
+Your honourable letter he desires
+To those have shut him up ; which , failing ,
+Periods his comfort .
+
+Noble Ventidius ! Well ;
+I am not of that feather to shake off
+My friend when he must need me . I do know him
+A gentleman that well deserves a help ,
+Which he shall have : I'll pay the debt and free him .
+
+Your lordship ever binds him .
+
+Commend me to him . I will send his ransom ;
+And being enfranchis'd , bid him come to me .
+'Tis not enough to help the feeble up ,
+But to support him after . Fare you well .
+
+All happiness to your honour .
+
+Lord Timon , hear me speak .
+
+Freely , good father .
+
+Thou hast a servant nam'd Lucilius .
+
+I have so : what of him ?
+
+Most noble Timon , call the man before thee .
+
+Attends be here or no ? Lucilius !
+
+Here , at your lordship's service .
+
+This fellow here , Lord Timon , this thy creature ,
+By night frequents my house . I am a man
+That from my first have been inclin'd to thrift ,
+And my estate deserves an heir more rais'd
+Than one which holds a trencher .
+
+Well ; what further ?
+
+One only daughter have I , no kin else ,
+On whom I may confer what I have got :
+The maid is fair , o' the youngest for a bride ,
+And I have bred her at my dearest cost
+In qualities of the best . This man of thine
+Attempts her love : I prithee , noble lord ,
+Join with me to forbid him her resort ;
+Myself have spoke in vain .
+
+The man is honest .
+
+Therefore he will be , Timon :
+His honesty rewards him in itself ;
+It must not bear my daughter .
+
+Does she love him ?
+
+She is young and apt :
+Our own precedent passions do instruct us
+What levity's in youth .
+
+Love you the maid ?
+
+Ay , my good lord , and she accepts of it .
+
+If in her marriage my consent be missing ,
+I call the gods to witness , I will choose
+Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world ,
+And dispossess her all .
+
+How shall she be endow'd ,
+If she be mated with an equal husband ?
+
+Three talents on the present ; in future , all .
+
+This gentleman of mine hath serv'd me long :
+To build his fortune I will strain a little ,
+For 'tis a bond in men . Give him thy daughter ;
+What you bestow , in him I'll counterpoise ,
+And make him weigh with her .
+
+Most noble lord ,
+Pawn me to this your honour , she is his .
+
+My hand to thee ; mine honour on my promise .
+
+Humbly I thank your lordship : never may
+That state or fortune fall into my keeping
+Which is not ow'd to you !
+
+
+Vouchsafe my labour , and long live your lordship !
+
+I thank you ; you shall hear from me anon :
+Go not away . What have you there , my friend ?
+
+A piece of painting , which I do beseech
+Your lordship to accept .
+
+Painting is welcome .
+The painting is almost the natural man ;
+For since dishonour traffics with man's nature ,
+He is but outside : these pencil'd figures are
+Even such as they give out . I like your work ;
+And you shall find I like it : wait attendance
+Till you hear further from me .
+
+The gods preserve you !
+
+Well fare you , gentleman : give me your hand ;
+We must needs dine together . Sir , your jewel
+Hath suffer'd under praise .
+
+What , my lord ! dispraise ?
+
+A mere satiety of commendations .
+If I should pay you for 't as 'tis extoll'd ,
+It would unclew me quite .
+
+My lord , 'tis rated
+As those which sell would give : but you well know ,
+Things of like value , differing in the owners ,
+Are prized by their masters . Believe 't , dear lord ,
+You mend the jewel by the wearing it .
+
+Well mock'd .
+
+No , my good lord ; he speaks the common tongue ,
+Which all men speak with him .
+
+Look , who comes here . Will you be chid ?
+
+
+We'll bear , with your lordship .
+
+He'll spare none .
+
+Good morrow to thee , gentle Apemantus !
+
+Till I be gentle , stay thou for thy good morrow ;
+When thou art Timon's dog , and these knaves honest .
+
+Why dost thou call them knaves ? thou know'st them not .
+
+Are they not Athenians ?
+
+Yes .
+
+Then I repent not .
+
+You know me , Apemantus ?
+
+Thou know'st I do ; I call'd thee by thy name .
+
+Thou art proud , Apemantus .
+
+Of nothing so much as that I am not like Timon .
+
+Whither art going ?
+
+To knock out an honest Athenian's brains .
+
+That's a deed thou'lt die for .
+
+Right , if doing nothing be death by the law .
+
+How likest thou this picture , Apemantus ?
+
+The best , for the innocence .
+
+Wrought he not well that painted it ?
+
+He wrought better that made the painter ; and yet he's but a filthy piece of work .
+
+You're a dog .
+
+Thy mother's of my generation : what's she , if I be a dog ?
+
+Wilt dine with me , Apemantus ?
+
+No ; I eat not lords .
+
+An thou shouldst , thou'dst anger ladies .
+
+O ! they eat lords ; so they come by great bellies .
+
+That's a lascivious apprehension .
+
+So thou apprehendest it , take it for thy labour .
+
+How dost thou like this jewel , Apemantus ?
+
+Not so well as plain-dealing , which will not cost a man a doit .
+
+What dost thou think 'tis worth ?
+
+Not worth my thinking . How now , poet !
+
+How now , philosopher !
+
+Thou liest .
+
+Art not one ?
+
+Yes .
+
+Then I lie not .
+
+Art not a poet ?
+
+Yes .
+
+Then thou liest : look in thy last work , where thou hast feigned him a worthy fellow .
+
+That's not feigned ; he is so .
+
+Yes , he is worthy of thee , and to pay thee for thy labour : he that loves to be flattered is worthy o' the flatterer . Heavens , that I were a lord !
+
+What wouldst do then , Apemantus ?
+
+Even as Apemantus does now ; hate a lord with my heart .
+
+What , thyself ?
+
+Ay .
+
+Wherefore ?
+
+That I had no angry wit to be a lord .
+Art not thou a merchant ?
+
+Ay , Apemantus .
+
+Traffic confound thee , if the gods will not !
+
+If traffic do it , the gods do it .
+
+Traffic's thy god , and thy god confound thee !
+
+
+What trumpet's that ?
+
+'Tis Alcihiades , and some twenty horse ,
+All of companionship .
+
+Pray , entertain them ; give them guide to us .
+
+You must needs dine with me . Go not you hence
+Till I have thanked you ; when dinner's done ,
+Show me this piece . I am joyful of your sights .
+
+Most welcome , sir !
+
+So , so , there !
+Aches contract and starve your supple joints !
+That there should be small love 'mongst these sweet knaves ,
+And all this courtesy ! The strain of man's bred out
+Into baboon and monkey .
+
+Sir , you have sav'd my longing , and I feed
+Most hungerly on your sight .
+
+Right welcome , sir !
+Ere we depart , we'll share a bounteous time
+In different pleasures . Pray you , let us in .
+
+What time o'day is't , Apemantus ?
+
+Time to be honest .
+
+That time serves still .
+
+The more accursed thou , that still omitt'st it .
+
+Thou art going to Lord Timon's feast ?
+
+Ay ; to see meat fill khaves and wine heat fools .
+
+Fare thee well , fare thee well .
+
+Thou art a fool to bid me farewell twice .
+
+Why , Apemantus ?
+
+Shouldst have kept one to thyself , for I mean to give thee none .
+
+Hang thyself !
+
+No , I will do nothing at thy bidding : make thy requests to thy friend .
+
+Away , unpeaceable dog ! or I'll spurn thee hence .
+
+I will fly , like a dog , the heels of an ass .
+
+
+He's opposite to humanity . Come , shall we in ,
+And taste Lord Timon's bounty ? he outgoes
+The very heart of kindness .
+
+He pours it out ; Plutus , the god of gold ,
+Is but his steward : no meed but he repays
+Sevenfold above itself ; no gift to him
+But breeds the giver a return exceeding
+All use of quittance .
+
+The noblest mind he carries
+That ever govern'd man .
+
+Long may he live in fortunes !
+Shall we in ?
+
+I'll keep you company .
+
+Most honour'd Timon ,
+It hath pleas'd the gods to remember my father's age ,
+And call him to long peace .
+He is gone happy , and has left me rich :
+Then , as in grateful virtue I am bound
+To your free heart , I do return those talents ,
+Doubled with thanks and service , from whose help
+I deriv'd liberty .
+
+O ! by no means ,
+Honest Ventidius ; you mistake my love ;
+I gave it freely ever ; and there's none
+Can truly say he gives , if he receives :
+If our betters play at that game , we must not dare
+To imitate them ; faults that are rich are fair .
+
+A noble spirit .
+
+
+Nay , my lords , ceremony was but devis'd at first
+To set a gloss on faint deeds , hollow welcomes ,
+Recanting goodness , sorry ere 'tis shown ;
+But where there is true friendship , there needs none .
+Pray , sit ; more welcome are ye to my fortunes
+Than my fortunes to me .
+
+
+My lord , we always have confess'd it .
+
+Ho , ho ! confess'd it ; hang'd it , have you not ?
+
+O ! Apemantus , you are welcome .
+
+No ,
+You shall not make me welcome :
+I come to have thee thrust me out of doors .
+
+Fie ! thou'rt a churl ; ye've got a humour there
+Does not become a man ; 'tis much to blame .
+They say , my lords , Ira furor brevis est ;
+But yond man is ever angry .
+Go , let him have a table by himself ,
+For he does neither affect company ,
+Nor is he fit for it , indeed .
+
+Let me stay at thine apperil , Timon :
+I come to observe ; I give thee warning on't .
+
+I take no heed of thee ; thou'rt an Athenian , therefore , welcome . I myself would have no power ; prithee , let my meat make thee silent .
+
+I scorn thy meat ; 'twould choke me , for I should
+Ne'er flatter thee . O you gods ! what a number
+Of men eat Timon , and he sees them not .
+It grieves me to see so many dip their meat
+In one man's blood ; and all the madness is ,
+He cheers them up too .
+I wonder men dare trust themselves with men :
+Methinks they should invite them without knives ;
+Good for their meat , and safer for their lives .
+There's much example for't ; the fellow that
+Sits next him now , parts bread with him , and pledges
+The breath of him in a divided draught ,
+Is the readiest man to kill him : 't has been prov'd .
+If I were a huge man , I should fear to drink at meals ;
+Lest they should spy my wind-pipe's dangerous notes :
+Great men should drink with harness on their throats .
+
+My lord , in heart ; and let the health go round .
+
+Let it flow this way , my good lord .
+
+Flow this way ! A brave fellow ! he keeps his tides well . Those healths will make thee and thy state look ill , Timon .
+Here's that which is too weak to be a sinner ,
+Honest water , which ne'er left man i' the mire :
+This and my food are equals , there's no odds :
+Feasts are too proud to give thanks to the gods .
+
+Immortal gods , I crave no pelf ;
+I pray for no man but myself :
+Grant I may never prove so fond ,
+To trust man on his oath or bond ;
+Or a harlot for her weeping ;
+Or a dog that seems a-sleeping ;
+Or a keeper with my freedom ;
+Or my friends , if I should need 'em .
+Amen . So fall to't :
+Rich men sin , and I eat root .
+
+
+Much good dich thy good heart , Apemantus !
+
+Captain Alcibiades , your heart's in the field now .
+
+My heart is ever at your service , my lord .
+
+You had rather be at a breakfast of enemies than a dinner of friends .
+
+So they were bleeding-new , my lord , there's no meat like 'em : I could wish my best friend at such a feast .
+
+'Would all those flatterers were thine enemies then , that then thou mightst kill 'em and bid me to 'em .
+
+Might we but have that happiness , my lord , that you would once use our hearts , whereby we might express some part of our zeals , we should think ourselves for ever perfect .
+
+O ! no doubt , my good friends , but the gods themselves have provided that I shall have much help from you : how had you been my friends else ? why have you that charitable title from thousands , did not you chiefly belong to my heart ? I have told more of you to myself than you can with modesty speak in your own behalf ; and thus far I confirm you . O you gods ! think I , what need we have any friends , if we should ne'er have need of 'em ? they were the most needless creatures living should we ne'er have use for 'em , and would most resemble sweet instruments hung up in cases , that keep their sounds to themselves . Why , I have often wished myself poorer that I might come nearer to you . We are born to do benefits ; and what better or properer can we call our own than the riches of our friends ? O ! what a precious comfort 'tis , to have so many , like brothers , commanding one another's fortunes . O joy ! e'en made away ere it can be born . Mine eyes cannot hold out water , methinks : to forget their faults , I drink to you .
+
+Thou weepest to make them drink , Timon .
+
+Joy had the like conception in our eyes ,
+And , at that instant , like a babe , sprung up .
+
+Ho , ho ! I laugh to think that babe a bastard .
+
+I promise you , my lord , you mov'd me much .
+
+Much !
+
+
+What means that trump ?
+
+How now !
+
+Please you , my lord , there are certain ladies most desirous of admittance .
+
+Ladies ? What are their wills ?
+
+There comes with them a forerunner , my lord , which bears that office , to signify their pleasures .
+
+I pray , let them be admitted .
+
+
+Hail to thee , worthy Timon ; and to all
+That of his bounties taste ! The five best senses
+Acknowledge thee their patron ; and come freely
+To gratulate thy plenteous bosom . Th' ear ,
+Taste , touch , smell , pleas'd from thy table rise ;
+They only now come but to feast thine eyes .
+
+They are welcome all ; let 'em have kind admittance :
+Music , make their welcome !
+
+
+You see , my lord , how ample you're belov'd .
+
+Hoy-day ! what a sweep of vanity comes this way :
+They dance ! they are mad women .
+Like madness is the glory of this life ,
+As this pomp shows to a little oil and root .
+We make ourselves fools to disport ourselves ;
+And spend our flatteries to drink those men
+Upon whose age we void it up again ,
+With poisonous spite and envy .
+Who lives that's not depraved or depraves ?
+Who dies that bears not one spurn to their graves
+Of their friend's gift ?
+I should fear those that dance before me now
+Would one day stamp upon me : it has been done ;
+Men shut their doors against a setting sun .
+
+
+You have done our pleasures much grace , fair ladies ,
+Set a fair fashion on our entertainment ,
+Which was not half so beautiful and kind ;
+You have added worth unto 't and lustre ,
+And entertain'd me with mine own device ;
+I am to thank you for 't .
+
+My lord , you take us even at the best .
+
+Faith , for the worst is filthy ; and would not hold taking , I doubt me .
+
+Ladies , there is an idle banquet
+Attends you : please you to dispose yourselves .
+
+Most thankfully , my lord .
+
+
+Flavius !
+
+My lord !
+
+The little casket bring me hither .
+
+Yes , my lord .
+
+More jewels yet !
+There is no crossing him in 's humour ;
+Else I should tell him well , i' faith , I should ,
+When all's spent , he'd be cross'd then , an he could .
+'Tis pity bounty had not eyes behind ,
+That man might ne'er be wretched for his mind .
+
+
+Where be our men ?
+
+Here , my lord , in readiness .
+
+Our horses !
+
+
+O , my friends ! I have one word to say to you ;
+Look you , my good lord ,
+I must entreat you , honour me so much
+As to advance this jewel ; accept it and wear it ,
+Kind my lord .
+
+I am so far already in your gifts
+
+So are we all .
+
+
+My lord , there are certain nobles of the senate
+Newly alighted , and come to visit you .
+
+They are fairly welcome .
+
+I beseech your honour ,
+Vouchsafe me a word ; it does concern you near .
+
+Near ! why then another time I'll hear thee .
+I prithee , let's be provided to show them entertainment .
+
+I scarce know how .
+
+
+May it please your honour , Lord Lucius ,
+Out of his free love , hath presented to you
+Four milk-white horses , trapp'd in silver .
+
+I shall accept them fairly ; let the presents
+Be worthily entertain'd .
+
+How now ! what news ?
+
+Please you , my lord , that honourable gentleman , Lord Lucullus , entreats your company to-morrow to hunt with him , and has sent your honour two brace of greyhounds .
+
+I'll hunt with him ; and let them be receiv'd ,
+Not without fair reward .
+
+What will this come to ?
+He commands us to provide , and give great gifts ,
+And all out of an empty coffer :
+Nor will he know his purse , or yield me this ,
+To show him what a beggar his heart is ,
+Being of no power to make his wishes good .
+His promises fly so beyond his state
+That what he speaks is all in debt ; he owes
+For every word : he is so kind that he now
+Pays interest for't ; his land's put to their books .
+Well , would I were gently put out of office
+Before I were forc'd out !
+Happier he that has no friend to feed
+Than such as do e'en enemies exceed .
+I bleed inwardly for my lord .
+
+
+You do yourselves
+Much wrong , you bate too much of your own merits :
+Here , my lord , a trifle of our love .
+
+With more than common thanks I will receive it .
+
+O ! he's the very soul of bounty .
+
+And now I remember , my lord , you gave
+Good words the other day of a bay courser
+I rode on : it is yours , because you lik'd it .
+
+O ! I beseech you , pardon me , my lord , in that .
+
+You may take my word , my lord ; I know no man
+Can justly praise but what he does affect :
+I weigh my friend's affection with mine own ;
+I'll tell you true . I'll call to you .
+
+O ! none so welcome .
+
+I take all and your several visitations
+So kind to heart , 'tis not enough to give ;
+Methinks , I could deal kingdoms to my friends ,
+And ne'er be weary . Alcibiades ,
+Thou art a soldier , therefore seldom rich ;
+It comes in charity to thee ; for all thy living
+Is 'mongst the dead , and all the lands thou hast
+Lie in a pitch'd field .
+
+Ay , defil'd land , my lord .
+
+We are so virtuously bound ,
+
+And so
+Am I to you .
+
+So infinitely endear'd ,
+
+All to you . Lights , more lights !
+
+The best of happiness ,
+Honour , and fortunes , keep with you , Lord Timon !
+
+Ready for his friends .
+
+
+What a coil's here !
+Serving of becks and jutting out of bums !
+I doubt whether their legs be worth the sums
+That are given for 'em . Friendship's full of dregs :
+Methinks , false hearts should never have sound legs .
+Thus honest fools lay out their wealth on curtsies .
+
+Now , Apemantus , if thou wert not sullen ,
+I would be good to thee .
+
+No , I'll nothing ; for if I should be bribed too , there would be none left to rail upon thee , and then thou wouldst sin the faster . Thou givest so long , Timon , I fear me thou wilt give away thyself in paper shortly : what need these feasts , pomps , and vain-glories ?
+
+Nay , an you begin to rail on society once , I am sworn not to give regard to you . Farewell ; and come with better music .
+
+
+So :
+Thou wilt not hear me now ; thou shalt not then ;
+I'll lock thy heaven from thee .
+O ! that men's ears should be
+To counsel deaf , but not to flattery .
+
+And late , five thousand : to Varro and to Isidore
+He owes nine thousand ; besides my former sum ,
+Which makes it five-and-twenty . Still in motion
+Of raging waste ! It cannot hold ; it will not .
+If I want gold , steal but a beggar's dog
+And give it Timon , why , the dog coins gold ;
+If I would sell my horse , and buy twenty more
+Better than he , why , give my horse to Timon ,
+Ask nothing , give it him , it foals me , straight ,
+And able horses . No porter at his gate ,
+But rather one that smiles and still invites
+All that pass by . It cannot hold ; no reason
+Can found his state in safety . Caphis , ho !
+Caphis , I say !
+
+
+Here , sir ; what is your pleasure ?
+
+Get on your cloak , and haste you to Lord Timon ;
+Importune him for my moneys ; be not ceas'd
+With slight denial , nor then silenc'd when
+'Commend me to your master' and the cap
+Plays in the right hand , thus ;but tell him ,
+My uses cry to me ; I must serve my turn
+Out of mine own ; his days and times are past ,
+And my reliances on his fracted dates
+Have smit my credit : I love and honour him ,
+But must not break my back to heal his finger ;
+Immediate are my needs , and my relief
+Must not be toss'd and turn'd to me in words ,
+But find supply immediate . Get you gone :
+Put on a most importunate aspect ,
+A visage of demand ; for , I do fear ,
+When every feather sticks in his own wing ,
+Lord Timon will be left a naked gull ,
+Which flashes now a ph nix . Get you gone .
+
+I go , sir .
+
+'I go , sir !' Take the bonds along with you ,
+And have the dates in compt .
+
+I will , sir .
+
+Go .
+
+
+No care , no stop ! so senseless of expense ,
+That he will neither know how to maintain it ,
+Nor cease his flow of riot : takes no account
+How things go from him , nor resumes no care
+Of what is to continue : never mind
+Was to be so unwise , to be so kind .
+What shall be done ? He will not hear , till feel :
+I must be round with him , now he comes from hunting .
+Fie , fie , fie , fie !
+
+
+Good even , Varro . What !
+You come for money ?
+
+Is't not your business too ?
+
+It is : and yours too , Isidore ?
+
+It is so .
+
+Would we were all discharg'd !
+
+I fear it .
+
+Here comes the lord !
+
+
+So soon as dinner's done , we'll forth again ,
+My Alcibiades . With me ? what is your will ?
+
+My lord , here is a note of certain dues .
+
+Dues ! Whence are you ?
+
+Of Athens here , my lord .
+
+Go to my steward .
+
+Please it your lordship , he hath put me off
+To the succession of new days this month :
+My master is awak'd by great occasion
+To call upon his own ; and humbly prays you
+That with your other noble parts you'll suit
+In giving him his right .
+
+Mine honest friend ,
+I prithee , but repair to me next morning .
+
+Nay , good my lord ,
+
+Contain thyself , good friend .
+
+One Varro's servant , my good lord ,
+
+From Isidore ;
+He humbly prays your speedy payment .
+
+If you did know , my lord , my master's wants ,
+
+'Twas due on forfeiture , my lord , six weeks
+And past .
+
+Your steward puts me off , my lord ;
+And I am sent expressly to your lordship .
+
+Give me breath .
+I do beseech you , good my lords , keep on ;
+I'll wait upon you instantly .
+
+Come hither : pray you ,
+How goes the world , that I am thus encounter'd
+With clamorous demands of date-broke bonds ,
+And the detention of long-since-due debts ,
+Against my honour ?
+
+Please you , gentlemen ,
+The time is unagreeable to this business :
+Your importunacy cease till after dinner ,
+That I may make his lordship understand
+Wherefore you are not paid .
+
+Do so , my friends .
+See them well entertained .
+
+
+Pray , draw near .
+
+Stay , stay ; here comes the fool with
+Apemantus : let's ha' some sport with 'em .
+
+Hang him , he'll abuse us .
+
+A plague upon him , dog !
+
+How dost , fool ?
+
+Dost dialogue with thy shadow ?
+
+I speak not to thee .
+
+No ; 'tis to thyself .
+
+Come away .
+
+There's the fool hangs on your back already .
+
+No , thou stand'st single ; thou'rt not on him yet .
+
+Where's the fool now ?
+
+He last asked the question . Poor rogues , and usurers' men ! bawds between gold and want !
+
+What are we , Apemantus ?
+
+Asses .
+
+Why ?
+
+That you ask me what you are , and do not know yourselves . Speak to 'em , fool .
+
+How do you , gentlemen ?
+
+Gramercies , good fool . How does your mistress ?
+
+She's e'en setting on water to scald such chickens as you are . Would we could see you at Corinth !
+
+Good ! gramercy .
+
+
+Look you , here comes my mistress' page .
+
+Why , how now , captain ! what do you in this wise company ? How dost thou , Apemantus ?
+
+Would I had a rod in my mouth , that I might answer thee profitably .
+
+Prithee , Apemantus , read me the superscription of these letters : I know not which is which .
+
+Canst not read ?
+
+No .
+
+There will little learning die then that day thou art hanged . This is to Lord Timon ; this to Alcibiades . Go ; thou wast born a bastard , and thou'lt die a bawd .
+
+Thou wast whelped a dog , and thou shalt famish a dog's death . Answer not ; I am gone .
+
+
+E'en so thou outrunn'st grace .
+Fool , I will go with you to Lord Timon's .
+
+Will you leave me there ?
+
+If Timon stay at home . You three serve three usurers ?
+
+Ay ; would they served us !
+
+So would I , as good a trick as ever hangman served thief .
+
+Are you three usurers' men ?
+
+Ay , fool .
+
+I think no usurer but has a fool to his servant : my mistress is one , and I am her fool . When men come to borrow of your masters , they approach sadly , and go away merry ; but they enter my mistress' house merrily , and go away sadly : the reason of this ?
+
+I could render one .
+
+Do it , then , that we may account thee a whoremaster and a knave ; which , notwithstanding , thou shalt be no less esteemed .
+
+What is a whoremaster , fool ?
+
+A fool in good clothes , and something like thee . 'Tis a spirit : sometime 't appears like a lord ; sometime like a lawyer ; sometime like a philosopher , with two stones more than 's artificial one . He is very often like a knight ; and generally in all shapes that man goes up and down in from fourscore to thirteen , this spirit walks in .
+
+Thou art not altogether a fool .
+
+Nor thou altogether a wise man : as much foolery as I have , so much wit thou lackest .
+
+That answer might have become Apemantus .
+
+Aside , aside ; here comes Lord Timon .
+
+
+Come with me , fool , come .
+
+I do not always follow lover , elder brother and woman ; sometime the philosopher .
+
+
+Pray you , walk near : I'll speak with you anon .
+
+
+You make me marvel : wherefore , ere this time ,
+Had you not fully laid my state before me ,
+That I might so have rated my expense
+As I had leave of means ?
+
+You would not hear me ,
+At many leisures I propos'd .
+
+Go to :
+Perchance some single vantages you took ,
+When my indisposition put you back ;
+And that unaptness made your minister ,
+Thus to excuse yourself .
+
+O my good lord !
+At many times I brought in my accounts ,
+Laid them before you ; you would throw them off ,
+And say you found them in mine honesty .
+When for some trifling present you have bid me
+Return so much , I have shook my head , and wept ;
+Yea , 'gainst the authority of manners , pray'd you
+To hold your hand more close : I did endure
+Not seldom , nor no slight checks , when I have
+Prompted you in the ebb of your estate
+And your great flow of debts . My loved lord ,
+Though you hear now , too late , yet now's a time ,
+The greatest of your having lacks a half
+To pay your present debts .
+
+Let all my land be sold .
+
+'Tis all engag'd , some forfeited and gone ;
+And what remains will hardly stop the mouth
+Of present dues ; the future comes apace :
+What shall defend the interim ? and at length
+How goes our reckoning ?
+
+To Laced mon did my land extend .
+
+O my good lord ! the world is but a word ;
+Were it all yours to give it in a breath ,
+How quickly were it gone !
+
+You tell me true .
+
+If you suspect my husbandry or falsehood ,
+Call me before the exactest auditors ,
+And set me on the proof . So the gods bless me ,
+When all our offices have been oppress'd
+With riotous feeders , when our vaults have wept
+With drunken spilth of wine , when every room
+Hath blaz'd with lights and bray'd with minstrelsy ,
+I have retir'd me to a wasteful cock ,
+And set mine eyes at flow .
+
+Prithee , no more .
+
+Heavens ! have I said , the bounty of this lord !
+How many prodigal bits have slaves and peasants
+This night englutted ! Who is not Timon's ?
+What heart , head , sword , force , means , but is Lord Timon's ?
+Great Timon , noble , worthy , royal Timon !
+Ah ! when the means are gone that buy this praise ,
+The breath is gone whereof this praise is made :
+Feast-won , fast-lost ; one cloud of winter showers ,
+These flies are couch'd .
+
+Come , sermon me no further ;
+No villanous bounty yet hath pass'd my heart ;
+Unwisely , not ignobly , have I given .
+Why dost thou weep ? Canst thou the conscience lack ,
+To think I shall lack friends ? Secure thy heart ;
+If I would broach the vessels of my love ,
+And try the argument of hearts by borrowing ,
+Men and men's fortunes could I frankly use
+As I can bid thee speak .
+
+Assurance bless your thoughts !
+
+And , in some sort , these wants of mine are crown'd ,
+That I account them blessings ; for by these
+Shall I try friends . You shall perceive how you
+Mistake my fortunes ; I am wealthy in my friends .
+Within there ! Flaminius ! Servilius !
+
+
+My lord ! my lord !
+
+I will dispatch you severally : you , to Lord Lucius ; to Lord Lucullus you : I hunted with his honour to-day ; you , to Sempronius . Commend me to their loves ; and I am proud , say , that my occasions have found time to use them toward a supply of money : let the request be fifty talents .
+
+As you have said , my lord .
+
+Lord Lucius , and Lucullus ? hum !
+
+Go you , sir , to the senators ,
+Of whom , even to the state's best health , I have
+Deserv'd this hearing ,bid 'em send o' the instant
+A thousand talents to me .
+
+I have been bold ,
+For that I knew it the most general way ,
+To them to use your signet and your name ;
+But they do shake their heads , and I am here
+No richer in return .
+
+Is't true ? can't be ?
+
+They answer , in a joint and corporate voice ,
+That now they are at fall , want treasure , cannot
+Do what they would ; are sorry ; you are honourable ;
+But yet they could have wish'd ; they know not ;
+Something hath been amiss ; a noble nature
+May catch a wrench ; would all were well ; 'tis pity ;
+And so , intending other serious matters ,
+After distasteful looks and these hard fractions ,
+With certain half-caps and cold-moving nods
+They froze me into silence .
+
+You gods , reward them !
+Prithee , man , look cheerly . These old fellows
+Have their ingratitude in them hereditary ;
+Their blood is cak'd , 'tis cold , it seldom flows ;
+'Tis lack of kindly warmth they are not kind ;
+And nature , as it grows again toward earth ,
+Is fashion'd for the journey , dull and heavy .
+
+
+Prithee , be not sad ,
+Thou art true and honest ; ingenuously I speak ,
+No blame belongs to thee .
+
+Ventidius lately
+Buried his father ; by whose death he's stepp'd
+Into a great estate ; when he was poor ,
+Imprison'd and in scarcity of friends ,
+I clear'd him with five talents ; greet him from me ;
+Bid him suppose some good necessity
+Touches his friend , which craves to be remember'd
+With those five talents .
+
+That had , give't these fellows
+To whom 'tis instant due . Ne'er speak , or think
+That Timon's fortunes 'mong his friends can sink .
+
+I would I could not think it : that thought is bounty's foe ;
+Being free itself , it thinks all others so .
+
+I have told my lord of you ; he is coming down to you .
+
+I thank you , sir .
+
+
+Here's my lord .
+
+One of Lord Timon's men ! a gift , I warrant . Why , this hits right ; I dreamt of a silver bason and ewer to-night . Flaminius , honest Flaminius , you are very respectively welcome , sir . Fill me some wine . [Exit Servant .] And how does that honourable , complete , free-hearted gentleman of Athens , thy very bountiful good lord and master ?
+
+His health is well , sir .
+
+I am right glad that his health is well , sir . And what hast thou there under thy cloak , pretty Flaminius ?
+
+Faith , nothing but an empty box , sir ; which , in my lord's behalf , I come to entreat your honour to supply ; who , having great and instant occasion to use fifty talents , hath sent to your lordship to furnish him , nothing doubting your present assistance therein .
+
+La , la , la , la ! 'nothing doubting ,' says he ? Alas ! good lord ; a noble gentleman 'tis , if he would not keep so good a house . Many a time and often I ha' dined with him , and told him on't ; and come again to supper to him , of purpose to have him spend less ; and yet he would embrace no counsel , take no warning by my coming . Every man has his fault , and honesty is his ; I ha' told him on't , but I could ne'er get him from it .
+
+
+Please your lordship , here is the wine .
+
+Flaminius , I have noted thee always wise . Here's to thee .
+
+Your lordship speaks your pleasure .
+
+I have observed thee always for a towardly prompt spirit , give thee thy due , and one that knows what belongs to reason ; and canst use the time well , if the time use thee well : good parts in thee .
+
+Get you gone , sirrah .[Exit Servant .] Draw nearer , honest Flaminius . Thy lord's a bountiful gentleman ; but thou art wise , and thou knowest well enough , although thou comest to me , that this is no time to lend money , especially upon bare friendship , without security . Here's three solidares for thee : good boy , wink at me , and say thou sawest me not . Fare thee well .
+
+Is't possible the world should so much differ ,
+And we alive that liv'd ? Fly , damned baseness ,
+To him that worships thee .
+
+
+Ha ! now I see thou art a fool , and fit for thy master .
+
+
+May these add to the number that may scald thee !
+Let molten coin be thy damnation ,
+Thou disease of a friend , and not himself !
+Has friendship such a faint and milky heart
+It turns in less than two nights ? O you gods !
+I feel my master's passion . This slave unto his honour
+Has my lord's meat in him :
+Why should it thrive and turn to nutriment
+When he is turn'd to poison ?
+O ! may diseases only work upon 't ,
+And , when he's sick to death , let not that part of nature
+Which my lord paid for , be of any power
+To expel sickness , but prolong his hour .
+
+
+Who , the Lord Timon ? he is my very good friend , and an honourable gentleman .
+
+We know him for no less , though we are but strangers to him . But I can tell you one thing , my lord , and which I hear from common rumours : now Lord Timon's happy hours are done and past , and his estate shrinks from him .
+
+Fie , no , do not believe it ; he cannot want for money .
+
+But believe you this , my lord , that , not long ago , one of his men was with the Lord Lucullus , to borrow so many talents , nay , urged extremely for 't , and showed what necessity belonged to 't , and yet was denied .
+
+How !
+
+I tell you , denied , my lord .
+
+What a strange case was that ! now , before the gods , I am ashamed on 't . Denied that honourable man ! there was very little honour showed in 't . For my own part , I must needs confess , I have received some small kindnesses from him , as money , plate , jewels , and such like trifles , nothing comparing to his ; yet , had he mistook him , and sent to me , I should ne'er have denied his occasion so many talents .
+
+
+See , by good hap , yonder's my lord ; I have sweat to see his honour .
+
+My honoured lord !
+
+Servilius ! you are kindly met , sir . Fare thee well : commend me to thy honourable virtuous lord , my very exquisite friend .
+
+May it please your honour , my lord hath sent
+
+Ha ! what has he sent ? I am so much endeared to that lord ; he's ever sending : how shall I thank him , thinkest thou ? And what has he sent now ?
+
+He has only sent his present occasion now , my lord ; requesting your lordship to supply his instant use with so many talents .
+
+I know his lordship is but merry with me ;
+He cannot want fifty-five hundred talents .
+
+But in the mean time he wants less , my lord .
+If his occasion were not virtuous ,
+I should not urge it half so faithfully .
+
+Dost thou speak seriously , Servilius ?
+
+Upon my soul , 'tis true , sir .
+
+What a wicked beast was I to disfurnish myself against such a good time , when I might ha' shown myself honourable ! how unluckily it happened , that I should purchase the day before for a little part , and undo a great deal of honour ! Servilius , now , before the gods , I am not able to do ; the more beast , I say ; I was sending to use Lord Timon myself , these gentlemen can witness ; but I would not , for the wealth of Athens , I had done it now . Commend me bountifully to his good lordship ; and I hope his honour will conceive the fairest of me , because I have no power to be kind : and tell him this from me , I count it one of my greatest afflictions say , that I cannot pleasure such an honourable gentleman . Good Servilius , will you befriend me so far as to use mine own words to him ?
+
+Yes , sir , I shall .
+
+I'll look you out a good turn , Servilius .
+
+True , as you said , Timon is shrunk indeed ;
+And he that's once denied will hardly speed .
+
+
+Do you observe this , Hostilius ?
+
+Ay , too well .
+
+Why this is the world's soul ; and just of the same piece
+Is every flatterer's spirit . Who can call him
+His friend that dips in the same dish ? for , in
+My knowing , Timon has been this lord's father ,
+And kept his credit with his purse ,
+Supported his estate ; nay , Timon's money
+Has paid his men their wages : he ne'er drinks
+But Timon's silver treads upon his lip ;
+And yet , O ! see the monstrousness of man ,
+When he looks out in an ungrateful shape ,
+He does deny him , in respect of his ,
+What charitable men afford to beggars .
+
+Religion groans at it .
+
+For mine own part ,
+I never tasted Timon in my life ,
+Nor came any of his bounties over me ,
+To mark me for his friend ; yet , I protest ,
+For his right noble mind , illustrious virtue ,
+And honourable carriage ,
+Had his necessity made use of me ,
+I would have put my wealth into donation ,
+And the best half should have return'd to him ,
+So much I love his heart . But , I perceive ,
+Men must learn now with pity to dispense ;
+For policy sits above conscience .
+
+
+Must he needs trouble me in 't . Hum ! 'bove all others ?
+He might have tried Lord Lucius , or Lucullus ;
+And now Ventidius is wealthy too ,
+Whom he redeem'd from prison : all these
+Owe their estates unto him .
+
+My lord ,
+They have all been touch'd and found base metal , for
+They have all denied him .
+
+How ! have they denied him ?
+Have Ventidius and Lucullus denied him ?
+And does he send to me ? Three ? hum !
+It shows but little love or judgment in him :
+Must I be his last refuge ? His friends , like physicians ,
+Thrice give him over ; must I take the cure upon me ?
+He has much disgrac'd me in 't ; I'm angry at him ,
+That might have known my place . I see no sense for 't ,
+But his occasions might have woo'd me first ;
+For , in my conscience , I was the first man
+That e'er received gift from him :
+And does he think so backwardly of me now ,
+That I'll requite it last ? No :
+So it may prove an argument of laughter
+To the rest , and I 'mongst lords be thought a fool .
+I had rather than the worth of thrice the sum ,
+He had sent to me first , but for my mind's sake ;
+I'd such a courage to do him good . But now return ,
+And with their faint reply this answer join ;
+Who bates mine honour shall not know my coin .
+
+
+Excellent ! Your lordship's a goodly villain . The devil knew not what he did when he made man politic ; he crossed himself by 't : and I cannot think but in the end the villanies of man will set him clear . How fairly this lord strives to appear foul ! takes virtuous copies to be wicked , like those that under hot ardent zeal would set whole realms on fire :
+Of such a nature is his politic love .
+This was my lord's best hope ; now all are fled
+Save only the gods . Now his friends are dead ,
+Doors , that were ne'er acquainted with their wards
+Many a bounteous year , must be employ'd
+Now to guard sure their master :
+And this is all a liberal course allows ;
+Who cannot keep his wealth must keep his house .
+
+Well met ; good morrow , Titus and Hortensius .
+
+The like to you , kind Varro .
+
+Lucius !
+What ! do we meet together !
+
+Ay , and I think
+One business does command us all ; for mine
+Is money .
+
+So is theirs and ours .
+
+
+And Sir Philotus too !
+
+Good day at once .
+
+Welcome , good brother .
+What do you think the hour ?
+
+Labouring for nine .
+
+So much ?
+
+Is not my lord seen yet ?
+
+Not yet .
+
+I wonder on 't ; he was wont to shine at seven .
+
+Ay , but the days are waxed shorter with him :
+You must consider that a prodigal course
+Is like the sun's ; but not , like his , recoverable .
+I fear ,
+'Tis deepest winter in Lord Timon's purse ;
+That is , one may reach deep enough , and yet
+Find little .
+
+I am of your fear for that .
+
+I'll show you how to observe a strange event .
+Your lord sends now for money .
+
+Most true , he does .
+
+And he wears jewels now of Timon's gift ,
+For which I wait for money .
+
+It is against my heart .
+
+Mark , how strange it shows ,
+Timon in this should pay more than he owes :
+And e'en as if your lord should wear rich jewels ,
+And send for money for 'em .
+
+I'm weary of this charge , the gods can witness :
+I know my lord hath spent of Timon's wealth ,
+And now ingratitude makes it worse than stealth .
+
+Yes , mine's three thousand crowns ; what's yours ?
+
+Five thousand mine .
+
+'Tis much deep : and it should seem by the sum ,
+Your master's confidence was above mine ;
+Else , surely , his had equall'd .
+
+
+One of Lord Timon's men .
+
+Flaminius ! Sir , a word . Pray , is my lord ready to come forth ?
+
+No , indeed , he is not .
+
+We attend his lordship ; pray , signify so much .
+
+I need not tell him that ; he knows you are too diligent .
+
+Ha ! is not that his steward muffled so ?
+He goes away in a cloud : call him , call him .
+
+Do you hear , sir ?
+
+By your leave , sir .
+
+What do you ask of me , my friend ?
+
+We wait for certain money here , sir .
+
+Ay ,
+If money were as certain as your waiting ,
+'Twere sure enough .
+Why then preferr'd you not your sums and bills ,
+When your false masters eat of my lord's meat ?
+Then they could smile and fawn upon his debts ,
+And take down the interest into their gluttonous maws .
+You do yourselves but wrong to stir me up ;
+Let me pass quietly :
+Believe't , my lord and I have made an end ;
+I have no more to reckon , he to spend .
+
+Ay , but this answer will not serve .
+
+If 'twill not serve , 'tis not so base as you ;
+For you serve knaves .
+
+
+How ! what does his cashiered worship mutter ?
+
+No matter what ; he's poor , and that's revenge enough . Who can speak broader than he that has no house to put his head in ? such may rail against great buildings .
+
+
+O ! here's Servilius ; now we shall know some answer .
+
+If I might beseech you , gentlemen , to repair some other hour , I should derive much from 't ; for , take 't of my soul , my lord leans wondrously to discontent . His comfortable temper has forsook him ; he's much out of health , and keeps his chamber .
+
+Many do keep their chambers are not sick :
+And , if it be so far beyond his health ,
+Methinks he should the sooner pay his debts ,
+And make a clear way to the gods .
+
+Good gods !
+
+We cannot take this for answer , sir .
+
+Servilius , help ! my lord ! my lord !
+
+
+What ! are my doors oppos'd against my passage ?
+Have I been ever free , and must my house
+Be my retentive enemy , my gaol ?
+The place which I have feasted , does it now ,
+Like all mankind , show me an iron heart ?
+
+Put in now , Titus .
+
+My lord , here is my bill .
+
+Here's mine .
+
+And mine , my lord .
+
+And ours , my lord .
+
+All our bills .
+
+Knock me down with 'em : cleave me to the girdle .
+
+Alas ! my lord ,
+
+Cut my heart in sums .
+
+Mine , fifty talents .
+
+Tell out my blood .
+
+Five thousand crowns , my lord .
+
+Five thousand drops pays that . What yours ? and yours ?
+
+My lord ,
+
+My lord ,
+
+Tear me , take me ; and the gods fall upon you !
+
+
+Faith , I perceive our masters may throw their caps at their money : these debts may well be called desperate ones , for a madman owes 'em .
+
+They have e'en put my breath from me , the slaves :
+Creditors ? devils !
+
+My dear lord ,
+
+What if it should be so ?
+
+My lord ,
+
+I'll have it so . My steward !
+
+Here , my lord .
+
+So fitly ! Go , bid all my friends again ,
+Lucius , Lucullus , and Sempronius ; all :
+I'll once more feast the rascals .
+
+O my lord !
+You only speak from your distracted soul ;
+There is not so much left to furnish out
+A moderate table .
+
+Be't not in thy care : go .
+I charge thee , invite them all : let in the tide
+Of knaves once more ; my cook and I'll provide .
+
+
+My lord , you have my voice to it ; the fault's
+Bloody ; 'tis necessary he should die ;
+Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy .
+
+Most true ; the law shall bruise him .
+
+
+Honour , health , and compassion to the senate !
+
+Now , captain .
+
+I am a humble suitor to your virtues ;
+For pity is the virtue of the law ,
+And none but tyrants use it cruelly .
+It pleases time and fortune to lie heavy
+Upon a friend of mine , who , in hot blood ,
+Hath stepp'd into the law , which is past depth
+To those that without heed to plunge into 't .
+He is a man , setting his fate aside ,
+Of comely virtues ;
+Nor did he soil the fact with cowardice ,
+An honour in him which buys out his fault ,
+But , with a noble fury and fair spirit ,
+Seeing his reputation touch'd to death ,
+He did oppose his foe ;
+And with such sober and unnoted passion
+He did behave his anger , ere 'twas spent ,
+As if he had but prov'd an argument .
+
+You undergo too strict a paradox ,
+Striving to make an ugly deed look fair :
+Your words have took such pains as if they labour'd
+To bring manslaughter into form , and set quarrelling
+Upon the head of valour ; which indeed
+Is valour misbegot , and came into the world
+When sects and factions were newly born .
+He's truly valiant that can wisely suffer
+The worst that man can breathe , and make his wrongs
+His outsides , to wear them like his raiment , carelessly ,
+And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart ,
+To bring it into danger .
+If wrongs be evils and enforce us kill ,
+What folly 'tis to hazard life for ill !
+
+My lord ,
+
+You cannot make gross sins look clear ;
+To revenge is no valour , but to bear .
+
+My lords , then , under favour , pardon me ,
+If I speak like a captain .
+Why do fond men expose themselves to battle ,
+And not endure all threats ? sleep upon't ,
+And let the foes quietly cut their throats
+Without repugnancy ? If there be
+Such valour in the bearing , what make we
+Abroad ? why then , women are more valiant
+That stay at home , if bearing carry it ,
+And the ass more captain than the lion , the felon
+Loaden with irons wiser than the judge ,
+If wisdom be in suffering . O my lords !
+As you are great , be pitifully good :
+Who cannot condemn rashness in cold blood ?
+To kill , I grant , is sin's extremest gust ;
+But , in defence , by mercy , 'tis most just .
+To be in anger is impiety ;
+But who is man that is not angry ?
+Weigh but the crime with this .
+
+You breathe in vain .
+
+In vain ! his service done
+At Laced mon and Byzantium
+Were a sufficient briber for his life .
+
+What's that ?
+
+I say , my lords , he has done fair service ,
+And slain in fight many of your enemies .
+How full of valour did he bear himself
+In the last conflict , and made plenteous wounds !
+
+He has made too much plenty with 'em ;
+He's a sworn rioter ; he has a sin that often
+Drowns him and takes his valour prisoner ;
+If there were no foes , that were enough
+To overcome him ; in that beastly fury
+He has been known to commit outrages
+And cherish factions ; 'tis inferr'd to us ,
+His days are foul and his drink dangerous .
+
+He dies .
+
+Hard fate ! he might have died in war .
+My lords , if not for any parts in him ,
+Though his right arm might purchase his own time ,
+And be in debt to none ,yet , more to move you ,
+Take my deserts to his , and join 'em both ;
+And , for I know your reverend ages love
+Security , I'll pawn my victories , all
+My honour to you , upon his good returns .
+If by this crime he owes the law his life ,
+Why , let the war receive't in valiant gore ;
+For law is strict , and war is nothing more .
+
+We are for law ; he dies : urge it no more ,
+On height of our displeasure . Friend , or brother ,
+He forfeits his own blood that spills another .
+
+Must it be so ? it must not be . My lords ,
+I do beseech you , know me .
+
+How !
+
+Call me to your remembrances .
+
+What !
+
+I cannot think but your age has forgot me ;
+It could not else be I should prove so base ,
+To sue , and be denied such common grace .
+My wounds ache at you .
+
+Do you dare our anger ?
+'Tis in few words , but spacious in effect ;
+We banish thee for ever .
+
+Banish me !
+Banish your dotage ; banish usury ,
+That makes the senate ugly .
+
+If , after two days' shine , Athens contain thee ,
+Attend our weightier judgment . And , not to swell our spirit ,
+He shall be executed presently .
+
+
+Now the gods keep you old enough ; that you may live
+Only in bone , that none may look on you !
+I am worse than mad : I have kept back their foes ,
+While they have told their money and let out
+Their coin upon large interest ; I myself
+Rich only in large hurts : all those for this ?
+Is this the balsam that the usuring senate
+Pours into captains' wounds ? Banishment !
+It comes not ill ; I hate not to be banish'd ;
+It is a cause worthy my spleen and fury ,
+That I may strike at Athens . I'll cheer up
+My discontented troops , and lay for hearts .
+'Tis honour with most lands to be at odds ;
+Soldiers should brook as little wrongs as gods .
+
+The good time of day to you , sir .
+
+I also wish it you . I think this honourable lord did but try us this other day .
+
+Upon that were my thoughts tiring when we encountered : I hope it is not so low with him as he made it seem in the trial of his several friends .
+
+It should not be , by the persuasion of his new feasting .
+
+I should think so : he hath sent me an earnest inviting , which many my near occasions did urge me to put off ; but he hath conjured me beyond them , and I must needs appear .
+
+In like manner was I in debt to my importunate business , but he would not hear my excuse . I am sorry , when he sent to borrow of me , that my provision was out .
+
+I am sick of that grief too , as I understand how all things go .
+
+Every man here's so . What would he have borrowed you ?
+
+A thousand pieces .
+
+A thousand pieces !
+
+What of you ?
+
+He sent to me , sir ,Here he comes .
+
+
+With all my heart , gentlemen both ; and how fare you ?
+
+Ever at the best , hearing well of your lordship .
+
+The swallow follows not summer more willing than we your lordship .
+
+Nor more willingly leaves winter ; such summer-birds are men . Gentlemen , our dinner will not recompense this long stay : feast your ears with the music awhile , if they will fare so harshly o' the trumpet's sound ; we shall to 't presently .
+
+I hope it remains not unkindly with your lordship that I returned you an empty messenger .
+
+O ! sir , let it not trouble you .
+
+My noble lord ,
+
+Ah ! my good friend , what cheer ?
+
+My most honourable lord , I am e'en sick of shame , that when your lordship this other day sent to me I was so unfortunate a beggar .
+
+Think not on 't , sir .
+
+If you had sent but two hours before ,
+
+Let it not cumber your better remembrance .
+
+Come , bring in all together .
+
+All covered dishes !
+
+Royal cheer , I warrant you .
+
+Doubt not that , if money and the season can yield it .
+
+How do you ? What's the news ?
+
+Alcibiades is banished : hear you of it ?
+
+Alcibiades banished !
+
+Alcibiades banished !
+
+'Tis so , be sure of it .
+
+How ? how ?
+
+I pray you , upon what ?
+
+My worthy friends , will you draw near ?
+
+I'll tell you more anon . Here's a noble feast toward .
+
+This is the old man still .
+
+Will't hold ? will't hold ?
+
+It does ; but time will and so
+
+I do conceive .
+
+Each man to his stool , with that spur as he would to the lip of his mistress ; your diet shall be in all places alike . Make not a city feast of it , to let the meat cool ere we can agree upon the first place : sit , sit . The gods require our thanks .
+You great benefactors sprinkle our society with thankfulness . For your own gifts , make yourselves praised : but reserve still to give , lest your deities be despised . Lend to each man enough , that one need not lend to another ; for , were your godheads to borrow of men , men would forsake the gods . Make the meat be beloved more than the man that gives it . Let no assembly of twenty be without a score of villains : if there sit twelve women at the table , let a dozen of them be as they are . The rest of your fees , O gods ! the senators of Athens , together with the common lag of people , what is amiss in them , you gods , make suitable for destruction . For these my present friends , as they are to me nothing , so in nothing bless them , and to nothing are they welcome .
+Uncover , dogs , and lap .
+
+
+What does his lordship mean ?
+
+I know not .
+
+May you a better feast never behold ,
+You knot of mouth-friends ! smoke and lukewarm water
+Is your perfection . This is Timon's last ;
+Who , stuck and spangled with your flatteries ,
+Washes it off , and sprinkles in your faces
+
+Your reeking villany . Live loath'd , and long ,
+Most smiling , smooth , detested parasites ,
+Courteous destroyers , affable wolves , meek bears ,
+You fools of fortune , trencher-friends , time's flies ,
+Cap and knee slaves , vapours , and minute-jacks !
+Of man and beast the infinite malady
+Crust you quite o'er ! What ! dost thou go ?
+Soft ! take thy physic first ,thou too ,and thou ;
+Stay , I will lend thee money , borrow none .
+
+What ! all in motion ? Henceforth be no feast ,
+Whereat a villain's not a welcome guest .
+Burn , house ! sink , Athens ! henceforth hated be
+Of Timon man and all humanity !
+
+How now , my lords !
+
+Know you the quality of Lord Timon's fury ?
+
+Push ! did you see my cap ?
+
+I have lost my gown .
+
+He's but a mad lord , and nought but humour sways him . He gave me a jewel th' other day , and now he has beat it out of my hat : did you see my jewel ?
+
+Did you see my cap ?
+
+Here 'tis .
+
+Here lies my gown .
+
+Let's make no stay .
+
+Lord Timon's mad .
+
+I feel 't upon my bones .
+
+One day he gives us diamonds , next day stones .
+
+Let me look back upon thee . O thou wall ,
+That girdlest in those wolves , dive in the earth .
+And fence not Athens ! Matrons , turn incontinent !
+Obedience fail in children ! slaves and fools ,
+Pluck the grave wrinkled senate from the bench ,
+And minister in their steads ! To general filths
+Convert , o'the instant , green virginity !
+Do't in your parents' eyes ! Bankrupts , hold fast ;
+Rather than render back , out with your knives ,
+And cut your trusters' throats ! Bound servants , steal !
+Large-handed robbers your grave masters are ,
+And pill by law . Maid , to thy master's bed ;
+Thy mistress is o' the brothel ! Son of sixteen ,
+Pluck the lin'd crutch from thy old limping sire ,
+With it beat out his brains ! Piety , and fear ,
+Religion to the gods , peace , justice , truth ,
+Domestic awe , night-rest and neighbourhood ,
+Instruction , manners , mysteries and trades ,
+Degrees , observances , customs and laws ,
+Decline to your confounding contraries ,
+And let confusion live ! Plagues incident to men ,
+Your potent and infectious fevers heap
+On Athens , ripe for stroke ! Thou cold sciatica ,
+Cripple our senators , that their limbs may halt
+As lamely as their manners ! Lust and liberty
+Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth ,
+That'gainst the stream of virtue they may strive ,
+And drown themselves in riot ! Itches , blains ,
+Sow all the Athenian bosoms , and their crop
+Be general leprosy ! Breath infect breath ,
+That their society , as their friendship , may
+Be merely poison ! Nothing I'll bear from thee
+But nakedness , thou detestable town !
+Take thou that too , with multiplying bans !
+Timon will to the woods ; where he shall find
+The unkindest beast more kinder than mankind .
+The gods confound hear me , you good gods all
+The Athenians both within and out that wall !
+And grant , as Timon grows , his hate may grow
+To the whole race of mankind , high and low !
+Amen .
+
+
+Hear you , Master steward ! where's our master ?
+Are we undone ? cast off ? nothing remaining ?
+
+Alack ! my fellows , what should I say to you ?
+Let me be recorded by the righteous gods ,
+I am as poor as you .
+
+Such a house broke !
+So noble a master fall'n ! All gone ! and not
+One friend to take his fortune by the arm ,
+And go along with him !
+
+As we do turn our backs
+From our companion thrown into his grave ,
+So his familiars to his buried fortunes
+Slink all away , leave their false vows with him ,
+Like empty purses pick'd ; and his poor self ,
+A dedicated beggar to the air ,
+With his disease of all-shunn'd poverty ,
+Walks , like contempt , alone . More of our fellows .
+
+
+All broken implements of a ruin'd house .
+
+Yet do our hearts wear Timon's livery ,
+That see I by our faces ; we are fellows still ,
+Serving alike in sorrow . Leak'd is our bark ,
+And we , poor mates , stand on the dying deck ,
+Hearing the surges threat : we must all part
+Into this sea of air .
+
+Good fellows all ,
+The latest of my wealth I'll share amongst you .
+Wherever we shall meet , for Timon's sake
+Let's yet be fellows ; let's shake our heads , and say ,
+As 'twere a knell unto our master's fortunes ,
+'We have seen better days .' Let each take some ;
+
+Nay , put out all your hands . Not one word more :
+Thus part we rich in sorrow , parting poor .
+
+O ! the fierce wretchedness that glory brings us .
+Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt ,
+Since riches point to misery and contempt ?
+Who would be so mock'd with glory ? or so live ,
+But in a dream of friendship ?
+To have his pomp and all what state compounds
+But only painted , like his varnish'd friends ?
+Poor honest lord ! brought low by his own heart ,
+Undone by goodness . Strange , unusual blood ,
+When man's worst sin is he does too much good !
+Who then dares to be half so kind agen ?
+For bounty , that makes gods , does still mar men .
+My dearest lord , bless'd , to be most accurs'd ,
+Rich , only to be wretched , thy great fortunes
+Are made thy chief affictions . Alas ! kind lord ,
+He's flung in rage from this ingrateful seat
+Of monstrous friends ;
+Nor has he with him to supply his life ,
+Or that which can command it .
+I'll follow and inquire him out :
+I'll ever serve his mind with my best will ;
+Whilst I have gold I'll be his steward still .
+
+
+O blessed breeding sun ! draw from the earth
+Rotten humidity ; below thy sister's orb
+Infect the air ! Twinn'd brothers of one womb ,
+Whose procreation , residence and birth ,
+Scarce is dividant , touch them with several fortunes ;
+The greater scorns the lesser : not nature ,
+To whom all sores lay siege , can bear great fortune ,
+But by contempt of nature .
+Raise me this beggar , and deny't that lord ;
+The senator shall bear contempt hereditary ,
+The beggar native honour .
+It is the pasture lards the rother's sides ,
+The want that makes him lean . Who dares , who dares ,
+In purity of manhood stand upright ,
+And say , 'This man's a flatterer ?' if one be ,
+So are they all ; for every grize of fortune
+Is smooth'd by that below : the learned pate
+Ducks to the golden fool : all is oblique ;
+There's nothing level in our cursed natures
+But direct villany . Therefore , be abhorr'd
+All feasts , societies , and throngs of men !
+His semblable , yea , himself , Timon disdains :
+Destruction fang mankind ! Earth , yield me roots !
+
+Who seeks for better of thee , sauce his palate
+With thy most operant poison ! What is here ?
+Gold ! yellow , glittering , precious gold ! No , gods ,
+I am no idle votarist . Roots , you clear heavens !
+Thus much of this will make black white , foul fair ,
+Wrong right , base noble , old young , coward valiant .
+Ha ! you gods , why this ? What this , you gods ? Why , this
+Will lug your priests and servants from your sides ,
+Pluck stout men's pillows from below their head :
+This yellow slave
+Will knit and breah religions ; bless the accurs'd ;
+Make the hoar leprosy ador'd ; place thieves ,
+And give them title , knee , and approbation ,
+With senators on the bench ; this is it
+That makes the wappen'd widow wed again ;
+She , whom the spital-house and ulcerous sores
+Would cast the gorge at , this embalms and spices
+To the April day again . Come , damned earth ,
+Thou common whore of mankind , that putt'st odds
+Among the rout of nations , I will make thee
+Do thy right nature .
+
+Ha ! a drum ? thou'rt quick ,
+But yet I'll bury thee : thou'lt go , strong theif ,
+When gouty keepers of thee cannot stand :
+Nay , stay thou out for earnest .
+
+What art thou there ? speak .
+
+A beast , as thou art . The canker gnaw thy heart ,
+For showing me again the eyes of man !
+
+What is thy name ? Is man so hateful to thee ,
+That art thyself a man ?
+
+I am Misanthropos , and hate mankind .
+For thy part , I do wish thou wert a dog ,
+That I might love thee something .
+
+I know thee well ,
+But in thy fortunes am unlearn'd and strange .
+
+I know thee too ; and more than that I know thee
+I not desire to know . Follow thy drum ;
+With man's blood paint the ground , gules , gules ;
+Religious canons , civil laws are cruel ;
+Then what should war be ? This fell whore of thine
+Hath in her more destruction than thy sword
+For all her cherubin look .
+
+Thy lips rot off !
+
+I will not kiss thee ; then the rot returns
+To thine own lips again .
+
+How came the noble Timon to this change ?
+
+As the moon does , by wanting light to give :
+But then renew I could not like the moon ;
+There were no suns to borrow of .
+
+Noble Timon , what friendship may I do thee ?
+
+None , but to maintain my opinion .
+
+What is it , Timon ?
+
+Promise me friendship , but perform none : if thou wilt not promise , the gods plague thee , for thou art a man ! if thou dost perform , confound thee , for thou art a man !
+
+I have heard in some sort of thy miseries .
+
+Thou saw'st them , when I had prosperity .
+
+I see them now ; then was a blessed time .
+
+As thine is now , held with a brace of harlots .
+
+Is this the Athenian minion , whom the world
+Voic'd so regardfully ?
+
+Art thou Timandra ?
+
+Yes .
+
+Be a whore still ; they love thee not that use thee ;
+Give them diseases , leaving with thee their lust .
+Make use of thy salt hours ; season the slaves
+For tubs and baths ; bring down rose-cheeked youth
+To the tub-fast and the diet .
+
+Hang thee , monster !
+
+Pardon him , sweet Timandra , for his wits
+Are drown'd and lost in his calamities .
+I have but little gold of late , brave Timon ,
+The want whereof doth daily make revolt
+In my penurious band : I have heard and griev'd
+How cursed Athens , mindless of thy worth ,
+Forgetting thy great deeds , when neighbour states ,
+But for thy sword and fortune , trod upon them ,
+
+I prithee , beat thy drum , and get thee gone .
+
+I am thy friend , and pity thee , dear Timon .
+
+How dost thou pity him whom thou dost trouble ?
+I had rather be alone .
+
+Why , fare thee well :
+Here is some gold for thee .
+
+Keep it , I cannot eat it .
+
+When I have laid proud Athens on a heap ,
+
+Warr'st thou 'gainst Athens ?
+
+Ay , Timon , and have cause .
+
+The gods confound them all in thy conquest ; and
+Thee after , when thou hast conquer'd !
+
+Why me , Timon ?
+
+That , by killing of villains , thou wast born to conquer
+My country .
+Put up thy gold : go on ,here's gold ,go on ;
+Be as a planetary plague , when Jove
+Will o'er some high-vic'd city hang his poison
+In the sick air : let not thy sword skip one .
+Pity not honour'd age for his white beard ;
+He is a usurer . Strike me the counterfeit matron ;
+It is her habit only that is honest ,
+Herself's a bawd . Let not the virgin's cheek
+Make soft thy trenchant sword ; for those milkpaps ,
+That through the window-bars bore at men's eyes ,
+Are not within the leaf of pity writ ,
+But set them down horrible traitors . Spare not the babe ,
+Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy ;
+Think it a bastard , whom the oracle
+Hath doubtfully pronounc'd thy throat shall cut ,
+And mince it sans remorse . Swear against objects ;
+Put armour on thine ears and on thine eyes ,
+Whose proof nor yells of mothers , maids , nor babes ,
+Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding ,
+Shall pierce a jot . There's gold to pay thy soldiers :
+Make large confusion ; and , thy fury spent ,
+Confounded be thyself ! Speak not , be gone .
+
+Hast thou gold yet ? I'll take the gold thou giv'st me ,
+Not all thy counsel .
+
+Dost thou , or dost thou not , heaven's curse upon thee !
+
+Give us some gold , good Timon : hast thou more ?
+
+Give us some gold , good Timon : hast thou more ?
+
+Enough to make a whore forswear her trade ,
+And to make whores a bawd . Hold up , you sluts ,
+Your aprons mountant : you are not oathable ,
+Although , I know , you'll swear , terribly swear
+Into strong shudders and to heavenly agues
+The immortal gods that hear you , spare your oaths ,
+I'll trust to your conditions : be whores still ;
+And he whose pious breath seeks to convert you ,
+Be strong in whore , allure him , burn him up ;
+Let your close fire predominate his smoke ,
+And be no turncoats : yet may your pains , six months ,
+Be quite contrary : and thatch your poor thin roofs
+With burdens of the dead ; some that were hang'd ,
+No matter ; wear them , betray with them : whore still ;
+Paint till a horse may mire upon your face :
+A pox of wrinkles !
+
+Well , more gold . What then ?
+
+Well , more gold . What then ?
+Believe't , that we'll do anything for gold .
+
+Consumptions sow
+In hollow bones of man ; strike their sharp shins ,
+And mar men's spurring . Crack the lawyer's voice ,
+That he may never more false title plead ,
+Nor sound his quillets shrilly : hoar the flamen ,
+That scolds against the quality of flesh ,
+And not believes himself : down with the nose ,
+Down with it flat ; take the bridge quite away
+Of him that , his particular to foresee ,
+Smells from the general weal : make curl'd-pate ruffians bald ,
+And let the unscarr'd braggarts of the war
+Derive some pain from you : plague all ,
+That your activity may defeat and quell
+The source of all erection . There's more gold ;
+Do you damn others , and let this damn you ,
+And ditches grave you all !
+
+More counsel with more money , bounteous Timon .
+
+More counsel with more money , bounteous Timon .
+
+More whore , more mischief first ; I have given you earnest .
+
+Strike up the drum towards Athens ! Farewell , Timon :
+If I thrive well , I'll visit thee again .
+
+If I hope well , I'll never see thee more .
+
+I never did thee harm .
+
+Yes , thou spok'st well of me .
+
+Call'st thou that harm ?
+
+Men daily find it . Get thee away , and take
+Thy beagles with thee .
+
+We but offend him . Strike !
+
+
+That nature , being sick of man's unkindness ,
+Should yet be hungry ! Common mother , thou ,
+
+Whose womb unmeasurable , and infinite breast ,
+Teams , and feeds all ; whose self-same mettle ,
+Whereof thy proud child , arrogant man , is puff'd ,
+Engenders the black toad and adder blue ,
+The gilded newt and eyeless venom'd worm ,
+With all the abhorred births below crisp heaven
+Whareon Hyperion's quickening fire doth shine ;
+Yield him , who all thy human sons doth hate ,
+From forth thy plenteous bosom , one poor root !
+Ensear thy fertile and conceptious womb ,
+Let it no more bring out ingrateful man !
+Go great with tigers , dragons , wolves , and bears ;
+Teem with new monsters , whom thy upward face
+Hath to the marbled mansion all above
+Never presented ! O ! a root ; dear thanks :
+Dry up thy marrows , vines and plough-torn leas ;
+Whereof ingrateful man , with liquorish draughts
+And morsels unctuous , greases his pure mind ,
+That from it all consideration slips !
+
+More man ! Plague ! plague !
+
+I was directed hither : men report
+Thou dost affect my manners , and dost use them .
+
+'Tis , then , because thou dost not keep a dog
+Whom I would imitate : consumption catch thee !
+
+This is in thee a nature but infected ;
+A poor unmanly melancholy sprung
+From change of fortune . Why this spade ? this place ?
+This slave-like habit ? and these looks of care ?
+Thy flatterers yet wear silk , drink wine , lie soft ,
+Hug their diseas'd perfumes , and have forgot
+That ever Timon was . Shame not these woods
+By putting on the cunning of a carper .
+Be thou a flatterer now , and seak to thrive
+By that which has undone thee : hinge thy knee ,
+And let his very breath , whom thou'lt observe ,
+Blow off thy cap ; praise his most vicious strain ,
+And call it excellent . Thou wast told thus ;
+Thou gav'st thine ears , like tapsters that bid welcome ,
+To knaves and all approachers : 'tis most just
+That thou turn rascal ; hadst thou wealth again ,
+Rascals should have't . Do not assume my likeness .
+
+Were I like thee I'd throw away myself .
+
+Thou hast cast away thyself , being like thyself ;
+A madman so long , now a fool . What ! think'st
+That the bleak air , thy boisterous chamberlain ,
+Will put thy shirt on warm ? will these moss'd trees ,
+That have outliv'd the eagle , page thy heels
+And skip when thou point'st out ? will the cold brook ,
+Candied with ice , caudle thy morning taste
+To cure the o'er-night's surfeit ? Call the creatures
+Whose naked natures live in all the spite
+Of wreakful heaven , whose bare unhoused trunks
+To the conflicting elements expos'd ,
+Answer mere nature ; bid them flatter thee ;
+O ! thou shalt find
+
+A fool of thee . Depart .
+
+I love thee better now than e'er I did .
+
+I hate thee worse .
+
+Why ?
+
+Thou flatter'st misery .
+
+I flatter not , but say thou art a caitiff .
+
+Why dost thou seek me out ?
+
+To vex thee .
+
+Always a villain's office , or a fool's .
+Dost please thyself in 't ?
+
+Ay .
+
+What ! a knave too ?
+
+If thou didst put this sour-cold habit on
+To castigate thy pride , 'twere well ; but thou
+Dost it enforcedly ; thou'dst courtier be again
+Wert thou not beggar . Willing misery
+Outlives incertain pomp , is crown'd before ;
+The one is filling still , never complete ;
+The other , at high wish : best state , contentless ,
+Hath a distracted and most wretched being ,
+Worse than the worst , content .
+Thou shouldst desire to die , being miserable .
+
+Not by his breath that is more miserable .
+Thou art a slave , whom Fortune's tender arm
+With favour never clasp'd , but bred a dog .
+Hadst thou , like us from our first swath , proceeded
+The sweet degrees that this brief world affords
+To such as may the passive drudges of it
+Freely command , thou wouldst have plung'd thyself
+In general riot ; melted down thy youth
+In different beds of lust ; and never learn'd
+The icy precepts of respect , but follow'd
+The sugar'd game before thee . But myself ,
+Who had the world as my confectionary ,
+The mouths , the tongues , the eyes , and hearts of men
+At duty , more than I could frame employment ,
+That numberless upon me stuck as leaves
+Do on the oak , have with one winter's brush
+Fell from their boughs and left me open , bare
+For every storm that blows ; I , to bear this ,
+That never knew but better , is some burden :
+Thy nature did commence in sufferance , time
+Hath made thee hard in 't . Why shouldst thou hate men ?
+They never flatter'd thee : what hast thou given ?
+If thou wilt curse , thy father , that poor rag ,
+Must be thy subject , who in spite put stuff
+To some she beggar and compounded thee
+Poor rogue hereditary . Hence ! be gone !
+If thou hadst not been born the worst of men ,
+Thou hadst been a knave and flatterer .
+
+Art thou proud yet ?
+
+Ay , that I am not thee .
+
+I , that I was
+No prodigal .
+
+I , that I am one now :
+Were all the wealth I have shut up in thee ,
+I'd give thee leave to hang it . Get thee gone .
+That the whole life of Athens were in this !
+Thus would I eat it .
+
+
+Here ; I will mend thy feast .
+
+First mend my company , take away thyself .
+
+So I shall mend mine own , by the lack of thine .
+
+'Tis not well mended so , it is but botch'd ;
+If not , I would it were .
+
+What wouldst thou have to Athens ?
+
+Thee thither in a whirlwind . If thou wilt ,
+Tell them there I have gold ; look , so I have .
+
+Here is no use for gold .
+
+The best and truest ;
+For here it sleeps , and does no hired harm .
+
+Where liest o' nights , Timon ?
+
+Under that's above me .
+Where feed'st thou o' days , Apemantus ?
+
+Where my stomach finds meat ; or , rather , where I eat it .
+
+Would poison were obedient and knew my mind !
+
+Where wouldst thou send it ?
+
+To sauce thy dishes .
+
+The middle of humanity thou never knewest , but the extremity of both ends . When thou wast in thy gilt and thy perfume , they mocked thee for too much curiosity ; in thy rags thou knowest none , but art despised for the contrary . There's a medlar for thee ; eat it .
+
+On what I hate I feed not .
+
+Dost hate a medlar ?
+
+Ay , though it look like thee .
+
+An thou hadst hated meddlers sooner , thou shouldst have loved thyself better now . What man didst thou ever know unthrift that was beloved after his means ?
+
+Who , without those means thou talkest of , didst thou ever know beloved ?
+
+Myself .
+
+I understand thee ; thou hadst some means to keep a dog .
+
+What things in the world canst thou nearest compare to thy flatterers ?
+
+Women nearest ; but men , men are the things themselves . What wouldst thou do with the world , Apemantus , if it lay in thy power ?
+
+Give it the beasts , to be rid of the men .
+
+Wouldst thou have thyself fall in the confusion of men , and remain a beast with the beasts ?
+
+Ay , Timon .
+
+A beastly ambition , which the gods grant thee to attain to . If thou wert the lion , the fox would beguile thee ; if thou wert the lamb , the fox would eat thee ; if thou wert the fox , the lion would suspect thee , when peradventure thou wert accused by the ass ; if thou wert the ass , thy dulness would torment thee , and still thou livedst but as a breakfast to the wolf ; if thou wert the wolf , thy greediness would afflict thee , and oft thou shouldst hazard thy life for thy dinner ; wert thou the unicorn , pride and wrath would confound thee and make thine own self the conquest of thy fury ; wert thou a bear , thou wouldst be killed by the horse ; wert thou a horse , thou wouldst be seized by the leopard ; wert thou a leopard , thou wert german to the lion , and the spots of thy kindred were jurors on thy life ; all thy safety were remotion , and thy defence absence . What beast couldst thou be , that were not subject to a beast ? and what a beast art thou already , that seest not thy loss in transformation !
+
+If thou couldst please me with speaking to me , thou mightst have hit upon it here ; the commonwealth of Athens is become a forest of beasts .
+
+How has the ass broke the wall , that thou art out of the city ?
+
+Yonder comes a poet and a painter : the plague of company light upon thee ! I will fear to catch it , and give way . When I know not what else to do , I'll see thee again .
+
+When there is nothing living but thee , thou shalt be welcome . I had rather be a beggar's dog than Apemantus .
+
+Thou art the cap of all the fools alive .
+
+Would thou wert clean enough to spit upon !
+
+A plague on thee ! thou art too bad to curse !
+
+All villains that do stand by thee are pure .
+
+There is no leprosy but what thou speak'st .
+
+If I name thee .
+I'll beat thee , but I should infect my hands .
+
+I would my tongue could rot them off !
+
+Away , thou issue of a mangy dog !
+Choler does kill me that thou art alive ;
+I swound to see thee .
+
+Would thou wouldst burst !
+
+Away ,
+Thou tedious rogue ! I am sorry I shall lose
+A stone by thee .
+
+
+Beast !
+
+Slave !
+
+Toad !
+
+Rogue , rogue , rogue !
+I am sick of this false world , and will love nought
+But even the mere necessities upon 't .
+Then , Timon , presently prepare thy grave ;
+Lie where the light foam of the sea may beat
+Thy grave-stone daily : make thine epitaph ,
+That death in me at others' lives may laugh .
+
+O thou sweet king-killer , and dear divorce
+'Twixt natural son and sire ! thou bright defiler
+Of Hymen's purest bed ! thou valiant Mars !
+Thou ever young , fresh , lov'd , and delicate wooer ,
+Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow
+That lies on Dian's lap ! thou visible god ,
+That solder'st close impossibilities ,
+And mak'st them kiss ! that speak'st with every tongue ,
+To every purpose ! O thou touch of hearts !
+Think , thy slave man rebels , and by thy virtue
+Set them into confounding odds , that beasts
+May have the world in empire .
+
+Would 'twere so :
+But not till I am dead ; I'll say thou'st gold :
+Thou wilt be throng'd to shortly .
+
+Throng'd to ?
+
+Ay .
+
+Thy back , I prithee .
+
+Live , and love thy misery !
+
+Long live so , and so die !
+
+I am quit .
+More things like men ! Eat , Timon , and abhor them .
+
+
+Where should he have this gold ? It is some poor fragment , some slender ort of his remainder . The mere want of gold , and the falling-from of his friends , drove him into this melancholy .
+
+It is noised he hath a mass of treasure .
+
+Let us make the assay upon him : if he care not for 't , he will supply us easily ; if he covetously reserve it , how shall's get it ?
+
+True ; for he bears it not about him , 'tis hid .
+
+Is not this he ?
+
+Where ?
+
+'Tis his description .
+
+He ; I know him .
+
+Save thee , Timon .
+
+Now , thieves ?
+
+Soldiers , not thieves .
+
+Both too ; and women's sons .
+
+We are not thieves , but men that much do want .
+
+Your greatest want is , you want much of meat .
+Why should you want ? Behold , the earth hath roots ;
+Within this mile break forth a hundred springs ;
+The oaks bear mast , the briers scarlet hips ;
+The bounteous housewife , nature , on each bush
+Lays her full mess before you . Want ! why want ?
+
+We cannot live on grass , on berries , water ,
+As beasts , and birds , and fishes .
+
+Nor on the beasts themselves , the birds , and fishes ;
+You must eat men . Yet thanks I must you con
+That you are thieves profess'd , that you work not
+In holier shapes ; for there is boundless theft
+In limited professions . Rascal thieves ,
+Here's gold . Go , suck the subtle blood o' the grape ,
+Till the high fever seethe your blood to froth ,
+And so 'scape hanging : trust not the physician ;
+His antidotes are poison , and he slays
+More than you rob : take wealth and lives together ;
+Do villany , do , since you protest to do't ,
+Like workmen . I'll example you with thievery :
+The sun's a thief , and with his great attraction
+Robs the vast sea ; the moon's an arrant thief ,
+And her pale fire she snatches from the sun ;
+The sea's a thief , whose liquid surge resolves
+The moon into salt tears ; the earth's a thief ,
+That feeds and breeds by a composture stolen
+From general excrement , each thing's a thief ;
+The laws , your curb and whip , in their rough power
+Have uncheck'd theft . Love not yourselves ; away !
+Rob one another . There's more gold : cut throats ;
+All that you meet are thieves . To Athens go ,
+Break open shops ; nothing can you steal
+But thieves do lose it : steal no less for this
+I give you ; and gold confound you howsoe'er !
+Amen .
+
+He has almost charmed me from my profession , by persuading me to it .
+
+'Tis in the malice of mankind that he thus advises us ; not to have us thrive in our mystery .
+
+I'll believe him as an enemy , and give over my trade .
+
+Let us first see peace in Athens ; there is no time so miserable but a man may be true .
+
+O you gods !
+Is yond despised and ruinous man my lord ?
+Full of decay and failing ? O monument
+And wonder of good deeds evilly bestow'd !
+What an alteration of honour
+Has desperate want made !
+What viler thing upon the earth than friends
+Who can bring noblest minds to basest ends !
+How rarely does it meet with this time's guise ,
+When man was wish'd to love his enemies !
+Grant I may ever love , and rather woo
+Those that would mischief me than those that do !
+He hath caught me in his eye : I will present
+My honest grief unto him ; and , as my lord ,
+Still serve him with my life . My dearest master !
+
+
+Away ! what art thou ?
+
+Have you forgot me , sir ?
+
+Why dost ask that ? I have forgot all men ;
+Then , if thou grant'st thou'rt a man , I have forgot thee .
+
+An honest poor servant of yours .
+
+Then I know thee not :
+I never had an honest man about me ; ay all
+I kept were knaves , to serve in meat to villains .
+
+The gods are witness ,
+Ne'er did poor steward wear a truer grief
+For his undone lord than mine eyes for you .
+
+What ! dost thou weep ? Come nearer . Then I love thee ,
+Because thou art a woman , and disclaim'st
+Flinty mankind ; whose eyes do never give ,
+But thorough lust and laughter . Pity's sleeping :
+Strange times , that weep with laughing , not with weeping !
+
+I beg of you to know me , good my lord ,
+To accept my grief and whilst this poor wealth lasts
+To entertain me as your steward still .
+
+Had I a steward
+So true , so just , and now so comfortable ?
+It almost turns my dangerous nature mild .
+Let me behold thy face . Surely , this man
+Was born of woman .
+Forgive my general and exceptless rashness ,
+You perpetual sober gods ! I do proclaim
+One honest man , mistake me not , but one ;
+No more , I pray , and he's a steward .
+How fain would I have hated all mankind !
+And thou redeem'st thyself : but all , save thee ,
+I fell with curses .
+Methinks thou art more honest now than wise ;
+For , by oppressing and betraying me ,
+Thou mightst have sooner got another service :
+For many so arrive at second masters
+Upon their first lord's neck . But tell me true ,
+For I must ever doubt , though ne'er so sure ,
+Is not thy kindness subtle , covetous ,
+If not a usuring kindness and as rich men deal gifts ,
+Expecting in return twenty for one ?
+
+No , my most worthy master ; in whose breast
+Doubt and suspect , alas ! are plac'd too late .
+You should have fear'd false times when you did feast ;
+Suspect still comes when an estate is least .
+That which I show , heaven knows , is merely love ,
+Duty and zeal to your unmatched mind ,
+Care of your food and living ; and , believe it ,
+My most honour'd lord ,
+For any benefit that points to me ,
+Either in hope , or present , I'd exchange
+For this one wish , that you had power and wealth
+To requite me by making rich yourself .
+
+Look thee , 'tis so . Thou singly honest man ,
+Here , take : the gods out of my misery ,
+Have sent thee treasure . Go , live rich and happy ;
+But thus condition'd : thou shalt build from men ;
+Hate all , curse all , show charity to none ,
+But let the famish'd flesh slide from the bone ,
+Ere thou relieve the beggar ; give to dogs
+What thou deny'st to men ; let prisons swallow 'em ,
+Debts wither 'em to nothing ; be men like blasted woods ,
+And may diseases lick up their false bloods !
+And so , farewell and thrive .
+
+O ! let me stay
+And comfort you , my master .
+
+If thou hatest
+Curses , stay not ; fly , whilst thou'rt bless'd and free :
+Ne'er see thou man , and let me ne'er see thee .
+
+As I took note of the place , it cannot be far where he abides .
+
+What's to be thought of him ? Does the rumour hold for true that he is so full of gold ?
+
+Certain : Alcibiades reports it ; Phrynia and Timandra had gold of him : he likewise enriched poor straggling soldiers with great quantity . 'Tis said he gave unto his steward a mighty sum .
+
+Then this breaking of his has been but a try for his friends .
+
+Nothing else ; you shall see him a palm in Athens again , and flourish with the highest . Therefore 'tis not amiss we tender our loves to him , in this supposed distress of his : it will show honestly in us , and is very likely to load our purposes with what they travel for , if it be a just and true report that goes of his having .
+
+What have you now to present unto him ?
+
+Nothing at this time but my visitation ; only , I will promise him an excellent piece .
+
+I must serve him so too ; tell him of an intent that's coming towards him .
+
+Good as the best . Promising is the very air o' the time ; it opens the eyes of expectation ; performance is ever the duller for his act ; and , but in the plainer and simpler kind of people , the deed of saying is quite out of use . To promise is most courtly and fashionable ; performance is a kind of will or testament which argues a great sickness in his judgment that makes it .
+
+
+Excellent workman ! Thou canst not paint a man so bad as is thyself .
+
+I am thinking what I shall say I have provided for him : it must be a personating of himself ; a satire against the softness of prosperity , with a discovery of the infinite flatteries that follow youth and opulency .
+
+Must thou needs stand for a villain in thine own work ? Wilt thou whip thine own faults in other men ? Do so , I have gold for thee .
+
+Nay , let's seek him :
+Then do we sin against our own estate ,
+When we may profit meet , and come too late .
+
+True ;
+When the day serves , before black-corner'd night ,
+Find what thou want'st by free and offer'd light .
+Come .
+
+I'll meet you at the turn . What a god's gold ,
+That he is worshipp'd in a baser temple
+Than where swine feed !
+'Tis thou that rigg'st the bark and plough'st the foam ,
+Settlest admired reverence in a slave :
+To thee be worship ; and thy saints for aye
+Be crown'd with plagues that thee alone obey .
+Fit I meet them .
+
+
+Hail , worthy Timon !
+
+Our late noble master !
+
+Have I once liv'd to see two honest men ?
+
+Sir ,
+Having often of your open bounty tasted ,
+Hearing you were retir'd , your friends fall'n off ,
+Whose thankless natures O abhorred spirits !
+Not all the whips of heaven are large enough
+What ! to you ,
+Whose star-like nobleness gave life and influence
+To their whole being ! I am rapt , and cannot cover
+The monstrous bulk of this ingratitude
+With any size of words .
+
+Let it go naked , men may see 't the better :
+You , that are honest , by being what you are ,
+Make them best seen and known .
+
+He and myself
+Have travell'd in the great shower of your gifts ,
+And sweetly felt it .
+
+Ay , you are honest men .
+
+We are hither come to offer you our service .
+
+Most honest men ! Why , how shall I requite you ?
+Can you eat roots and drink cold water ? no .
+
+What we can do , we'll do , to do you service .
+
+Ye're honest men . Ye've heard that I have gold ;
+I am sure you have : speak truth ; ye're honest men .
+
+So it is said , my noble lord ; but therefore
+Came not my friend nor I .
+
+Good honest men ! Thou draw'st a counterfeit
+Best in all Athens : thou'rt , indeed , the best ;
+Thou counterfeit'st most lively .
+
+So , so , my lord .
+
+E'en so , sir , as I say . And , for thy fiction ,
+Why , thy verse swells with stuff so fine and smooth
+That thou art even natural in thine art .
+But for all this , my honest-natur'd friends ,
+I must needs say you have a little fault :
+Marry , 'tis not monstrous in you , neither wish I
+You take much pains to mend .
+
+Beseech your honour
+To make it known to us .
+
+You'll take it ill .
+
+Most thankfully , my lord .
+
+Will you indeed ?
+
+Doubt it not , worthy lord .
+
+There's never a one of you but trusts a knave ,
+That mightily deceives you .
+
+Do we , my lord ?
+
+Ay , and you hear him cog , see him dissemble ,
+Know his gross patchery , love him , feed him ,
+Keep in your bosom ; yet remain assur'd
+That he's a made-up villain .
+
+I know none such , my lord .
+
+Nor I .
+
+Look you , I love you well ; I'll give you gold ,
+Rid me these villains from your companies :
+Hang them or stab them , drown them in a draught ,
+Confound them by some course , and come to me ,
+I'll give you gold enough .
+
+Name them , my lord ; let's know them .
+
+You that way and you this , but two in company ;
+Each man apart , all single and alone ,
+Yet an arch villain keeps him company .
+If , where thou art two villains shall not be ,
+Come not near him .
+
+If thou would not reside
+But where one villain is , then him abandon .
+Hence ! pack ! there's gold ; ye came for gold , ye slaves :
+You have done work for me , there's payment : hence !
+You are an alchemist , make gold of that .
+Out , rascal dogs !
+
+It is in vain that you would speak with Timon ;
+For he is set so only to himself
+That nothing but himself , which looks like man ,
+Is friendly with him .
+
+Bring us to his cave :
+It is our part and promise to the Athenians
+To speak with Timon .
+
+At all times alike
+Men are not still the same : 'twas time and griefs
+That fram'd him thus : time , with his fairer hand ,
+Offering the fortunes of his former days ,
+The former man may make him . Bring us to him ,
+And chance it as it may .
+
+Here is his cave .
+Peace and content be here ! Lord Timon ! Timon !
+Look out , and speak to friends . The Athenians ,
+By two of their most reverend senate , greet thee :
+Speak to them , noble Timon .
+
+
+Thousun , that comfort'st , burn ! Speak , and be hang'd :
+For each true word , a blister ! and each false
+Be as a cauterizing to the root o'the tongue ,
+Consuming it with speaking !
+
+Worthy Timon ,
+
+Of none but such as you , and you of Timon .
+
+The senators of Athens greet thee , Timon .
+
+I thank them ; and would send them back the plague ,
+Could I but catch it for them .
+
+O ! forget
+What we are sorry for ourselves in thee .
+The senators with one consent of love
+Entreat thee back to Athens ; who have thought
+On special dignities , which vacant lie
+For thy best use and wearing .
+
+They confess
+Toward thee forgetfulness to general , gross ;
+Which now the public body , which doth seldom
+Play the recanter , feeling in itself
+A lack of Timon's aid , hath sense withal
+Of its own fail , restraining aid to Timon ;
+And send forth us , to make their sorrow'd render ,
+Together with a recompense more fruitful
+Than their offence can weigh down by the dram ;
+Ay , even such heaps and sums of love and wealth
+As shall to thee block out what wrongs were theirs ,
+And write in thee the figures of their love ,
+Ever to read them thine .
+
+You witch me in it ;
+Surprise me to the very brink of tears :
+Lend me a fool's heart and a woman's eyes ,
+And I'll beweep these comforts , worthy senators .
+
+Therefore so please thee to return with us ,
+And of our Athens thine and ours to take
+The captainship , thou shalt be met with thanks ,
+Allow'd with absolute power , and thy good name
+Live with authority : so soon we shall drive back
+Of Alcibiades the approaches wild ;
+Who , like a boar too savage , doth root up
+His country's peace .
+
+And shakes his threat'ning sword
+Against the walls of Athens .
+
+Therefore , Timon ,
+
+Well , sir , I will ; therefore , I will , sir ; thus :
+If Alcibiades kill my countrymen ,
+Let Alcibiades know this of Timon ,
+That Timon cares not . But if he sack fair Athens ,
+And take our goodly aged men by the beards ,
+Giving our holy virgins to the stain
+Of contumelious , beastly , mad-brain'd war ;
+Then let him know , and tell him Timon speaks it ,
+In pity of our aged and our youth
+I cannot choose but tell him , that I care not ,
+And let him take't at worst ; for their knives care not
+While you have throats to answer : for myself ,
+There's not a whittle in the unruly camp
+But I do prize it at my love before
+The reverend'st throat in Athens . So I leave you
+To the protection of the prosperous gods ,
+As thieves to keepers .
+
+Stay not ; all's in vain .
+
+Why , I was writing of my epitaph ;
+It will be seen to-morrow . My long sickness
+Of health and living now begins to mend ,
+And nothing brings me all things . Go ; live still :
+Be Alcibiades your plague , you his ,
+And last so long enough !
+
+We speak in vain .
+
+But yet I love my country , and am not
+One that rejoices in the common wrack ,
+As common bruit doth put it .
+
+That's well spoke .
+
+Commend me to my loving countrymen ,
+
+These words become your lips as they pass through them .
+
+And enter in our ears like great triumphers
+In their applauding gates .
+
+Commend me to them ;
+And tell them , that , to ease them of their griefs ,
+Their fears of hostile strokes , their aches , losses ,
+Their pangs of love , with other incident throes
+That nature's fragile vessel doth sustain
+In life's uncertain voyage , I will some kindness do them :
+I'll teach them to prevent wild Alcibiades' wrath .
+
+I like this well ; he will return again .
+
+I have a tree which grows here in my close ,
+That mine own use invites me to cut down ,
+And shortly must I fell it ; tell my friends ,
+Tell Athens , in the sequence of degree ,
+From high to low throughout , that whoso please
+To stop affliction , let him take his haste ,
+Come hither , ere my tree hath felt the axe ,
+And hang himself . I pray you , do my greeting .
+
+Trouble him no further ; thus you still shall find him .
+
+Come not to me again ; but say to Athans ,
+Timon hath made his everlasting mansion
+Upon the beached verge of the salt flood ;
+Who once a day with his embossed froth
+The turbulent surge shall cover : thither come ,
+And let my grave-stone be your oracle .
+Lips , let sour words go by and language end :
+What is amiss plague and infection mend !
+Graves only be men's works and death their gain !
+Sun , hide thy beams ! Timon hath done his reign .
+
+
+His discontents are unremovably Coupled to nature .
+
+Our hope in him is dead : let us return ,
+And strain what other means is left unto us
+In our dear peril .
+
+It requires swift foot .
+
+
+Thou hast painfully discover'd : are his files
+As full as thy report ?
+
+I have spoke the least ;
+Besides , his expedition promises
+Present approach .
+
+We stand much hazard if they bring not Timon .
+
+I met a courier , one mine ancient friend ,
+Whom , though in general part we were oppos'd ,
+Yet our old love made a particular force ,
+And made us speak like friends : this man was riding
+From Alcibiades to Timon's cave ,
+With letters of entreaty , which imported
+His fellowship i' the cause against your city ,
+In part for his sake mov'd .
+
+Here come our brothers .
+
+
+No talk of Timon , nothing of him expect .
+The enemies' drum is heard , and fearful scouring
+Doth choke the air with dust . In , and prepare :
+Ours is the fall , I fear ; our foes the snare .
+
+
+By all description this should be the place .
+Who's here ? speak , ho ! No answer ! What is this ?
+Timon is dead , who hath outstretch'd his span :
+Some beast rear'd this ; here does not live a man .
+Dead , sure ; and this his grave . What's on this tomb
+I cannot read ; the character I'll take with wax :
+Our captain hath in every figure skill ;
+An ag'd interpreter , though young in days .
+Before proud Athens he's set down by this ,
+Whose fall the mark of his ambition is .
+
+
+Sound to this coward and lascivious town
+Our terrible approach .
+
+Till now you have gone on , and fill'd the time
+With all licentious measure , making your wills
+The scope of justice ; till now myself and such
+As slept within the shadow of your power
+Have wander'd with our travers'd arms , and breath'd
+Our sufferance vainly . Now the time is flush ,
+When crouching marrow , in the bearer strong ,
+Cries of itself , 'No more :' now breathless wrong
+Shall sit and pant in your great chairs of ease ,
+And pursy insolence shall break his wind
+
+With fear and horrid flight .
+
+Noble and young ,
+When thy first griefs were but a mere conceit ,
+Ere thou hadst power or we had cause of fear ,
+We sent to thee , to give thy rages balm ,
+To wipe out our ingratitude with loves
+Above their quantity .
+
+So did we woo
+Transformed Timon to our city's love
+By humble message and by promis'd means :
+We were not all unkind , nor all deserve
+The common stroke of war .
+
+These walls of ours
+Were not erected by their hands from whom
+You have receiv'd your grief ; nor are they such
+That these great towers , trophies , and schools should fall
+For private faults in them .
+
+Nor are they living
+Who were the motives that you first went out ;
+Shame that they wanted cunning in excess
+Hath broke their hearts . March , noble lord ,
+Into our city with thy banners spread :
+By decimation , and a tithed death ,
+If thy revenges hunger for that food
+Which nature loathes ,take thou the destin'd tenth ,
+And by the hazard of the spotted die
+Let die the spotted .
+
+All have not offended ;
+For those that were , it is not square to take
+On those that are , revenges : crimes , like lands ,
+Are not inherited . Then , dear countryman ,
+Bring in thy ranks , but leave without thy rage :
+Spare thyAthenian cradle , and those kin
+Which in the bluster of thy wrath must fall
+With those that have offended : like a shepherd ,
+Approach the fold and cull th' infected forth ,
+But kill not all together .
+
+What thou wilt ,
+Thou rather shalt enforce it with thy smile
+Thank hew to't with thy sword .
+
+Set but thy foot
+Against our rampir'd gates , and they shall ope ,
+So thou wilt send thy gentle heart before ,
+To say thou'lt enter friendly .
+
+Throw thy glove ,
+Or any token of thine honour else ,
+That thou wilt use the wars as thy redress
+And not as our confusion , all thy powers
+Shall make their harbour in our town , till we
+Have seal'd thy full desire .
+
+Then there's my glove ;
+Descend , and open your uncharged ports :
+Those enemies of Timon's and mine own
+Whom you yourselves shall set out for reproof ,
+Fall , and no more ; and , to atone your fears
+With my more noble meaning , not a man
+Shall pass his quarter , or offend the stream
+Of regular justice in your city's bounds ,
+But shall be render'd to your public laws
+At heaviest answer .
+
+'Tis most nobly spoken .
+
+Descend , and keep your words .
+
+My noble general , Timon is dead ;
+Entomb'd upon the very hem o' the sea :
+And on his grave-stone this insculpture , which
+With wax I brought away , whose soft impression
+Interprets for my poor ignorance .
+
+Here lies a wretched corse , of wretched soul bereft :
+Seek not my name : a plague consume you wicked caitiffs left !
+Here lie I , Timon ; who , alive , all living men did hate :
+Pass by , and curse thy fill ; but pass and stay not here thy gait .
+These well express in thee thy latter spirits :
+Though thou abhorr'dst in us our human griefs ,
+Scorn'dst our brain's flow and those our droplets which
+From niggard nature fall , yet rich conceit
+Taught thee to make vast Neptune weep for aye
+On thy low grave , on faults forgiven . Dead
+Is noble Timon ; of whose memory
+Hereafter more . Bring me into your city ,
+And I will use the olive with my sword ;
+Make war breed peace ; make peace stint war ; make each
+Prescribe to other as each other's leech .
+Let our drums strike .
+
+TITUS ANDRONICUS
+
+
+Noble patricians , patrons of my right ,
+Defend the justice of my cause with arms ;
+And , countrymen , my loving followers ,
+Plead my successive title with your swords :
+I am his first-born son that was the last
+That wore the imperial diadem of Rome ;
+Then let my father's honours live in me ,
+Nor wrong mine age with this indignity .
+
+Romans , friends , followers , favourers of my right ,
+If ever Bassianus , C sar's son ,
+Were gracious in the eyes of royal Rome ,
+Keep then this passage to the Capitol ,
+And suffer not dishonour to approach
+The imperial seat , to virtue consecrate ,
+To justice , continence , and nobility ;
+But let desert in pure election shine ,
+And , Romans , fight for freedom in your choice .
+
+
+Princes , that strive by factions and by friends
+Ambitiously for rule and empery ,
+Know that the people of Rome , for whom we stand
+A special party , have , by common voice ,
+In election for the Roman empery ,
+Chosen Andronicus , surnamed Pius ,
+For many good and great deserts to Rome :
+A nobler man , a braver warrior ,
+Lives not this day within the city walls :
+He by the senate is accited home
+From weary wars against the barbarous Goths ;
+That , with his sons , a terror to our foes ,
+Hath yok'd a nation , strong , train'd up in arms .
+Ten years are spent since first he undertook
+This cause of Rome , and chastised with arms
+Our enemies' pride : five times he hath return'd
+Bleeding to Rome , bearing his valiant sons
+In coffins from the field ;
+And now at last , laden with honour's spoils ,
+Returns the good Andronicus to Rome ,
+Renowned Titus , flourishing in arms .
+Let us entreat , by honour of his name ,
+Whom worthily you would have now succeed ,
+And in the Capitol and senate's right ,
+Whom you pretend to honour and adore ,
+That you withdraw you and abate your strength ;
+Dismiss your followers , and , as suitors should ,
+Plead your deserts in peace and humbleness .
+
+How fair the tribune speaks to calm my thoughts !
+
+Marcus Andronicus , so I do affy
+In thy uprightness and integrity ,
+And so I love and honour thee and thine ,
+Thy noble brother Titus and his sons ,
+And her to whom my thoughts are humbled all ,
+Gracious Lavinia , Rome's rich ornament ,
+That I will here dismiss my loving friends ,
+And to my fortunes and the people's favour
+Commit my cause in balance to be weigh'd .
+
+
+Friends , that have been thus forward in my right ,
+I thank you all and here dismiss you all ;
+And to the love and favour of my country
+Commit myself , my person , and the cause .
+
+Rome , be as just and gracious unto me
+As I am confident and kind to thee .
+Open the gates , and let me in .
+
+Tribunes , and me , a poor competitor .
+
+Romans , make way ! the good Andronicus ,
+Patron of virtue , Rome's best champion ,
+Successful in the battles that he fights ,
+With honour and with fortune is return'd
+From where he circumscribed with his sword ,
+And brought to yoke , the enemies of Rome .
+
+Hail , Rome , victorious in thy mourning weeds !
+Lo ! as the bark , that hath discharg'd her fraught ,
+Returns with precious lading to the bay
+From whence at first she weigh'd her anchorage ,
+Cometh Andronicus , bound with laurel boughs ,
+To re-salute his country with his tears ,
+Tears of true joy for his return to Rome .
+Thou great defender of this Capitol ,
+Stand gracious to the rites that we intend !
+Romans , of five-and-twenty valiant sons ,
+Half of the number that King Priam had ,
+Behold the poor remains , alive , and dead !
+These that survive let Rome reward with love ;
+These that I bring unto their latest home .
+With burial among their ancestors :
+Here Goths have given me leave to sheathe my sword .
+Titus , unkind and careless of thine own ,
+Why suffer'st thou thy sons , unburied yet
+To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx ?
+Make way to lay them by their brethren .
+
+There greet in silence , as the dead are wont ,
+And sleep in peace , slain in your country's wars !
+O sacred receptacle of my joys ,
+Sweet cell of virtue and nobility ,
+How many sons of mine hast thou in store ,
+That thou wilt never render to me more !
+
+Give us the proudest prisoner of the Goths ,
+That we may hew his limbs , and on a pile
+Ad manes fratrum sacrifice his flesh ,
+Before this earthy prison of their bones ;
+That so the shadows be not unappeas'd ,
+Nor we disturb'd with prodigies on earth .
+
+I give him you , the noblest that survives
+The eldest son of this distressed queen .
+
+Stay , Roman brethren ! Gracious conqueror ,
+Victorious Titus , rue the tears I shed ,
+A mother's tears in passion for her son :
+And if thy sons were ever dear to thee ,
+O ! think my son to be as dear to me .
+Sufficeth not that we are brought to Rome ,
+To beautify thy triumphs and return ,
+Captive to thee and to thy Roman yoke ;
+But must my sons be slaughter'd in the streets
+For valiant doings in their country's cause ?
+O ! if to fight for king and commonweal
+Were piety in thine , it is in these .
+Andronicus , stain not thy tomb with blood :
+Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods ?
+Draw near them then in being merciful ;
+Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge :
+Thrice-noble Titus , spare my first-born son .
+
+Patient yourself , madam , and pardon me .
+These are their brethren , whom your Goths beheld
+Alive and dead , and for their brethren slain
+Religiously they ask a sacrifice :
+To this your son is mark'd , and die he must ,
+To appease their groaning shadows that are gone .
+
+Away with him ! and make a fire straight ;
+And with our swords , upon a pile of wood ,
+Let's hew his limbs till they be clean consum'd .
+
+
+O cruel , irreligious piety !
+
+Was ever Scythia half so barbarous ?
+
+Oppose not Scythia to ambitious Rome .
+Alarbus goes to rest , and we survive
+To tremble under Titus' threatening look .
+Then , madam , stand resolv'd ; but hope withal
+The self-same gods , that arm'd the Queen of Troy
+With opportunity of sharp revenge
+Upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent ,
+May favour Tamora , the Queen of Goths
+When Goths were Goths , and Tamora was queen
+To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes .
+
+
+See , lord and father , how we have perform'd
+Our Roman rites . Alarbus' limbs are lopp'd ,
+And entrails feed the sacrificing fire ,
+Whose smoke , like incense , doth perfume the sky .
+Remaineth nought but to inter our brethren ,
+And with loud 'larums welcome them to Rome .
+
+Let it be so ; and let Andronicus
+Make this his latest farewell to their souls .
+
+In peace and honour rest you here , my sons ;
+Rome's readiest champions , repose you here in rest ,
+Secure from worldly chances and mishaps !
+Here lurks no treason , here no envy swells ,
+Here grow no damned drugs , here are no storms ,
+No noise , but silence and eternal sleep :
+In peace and honour rest you here , my sons !
+
+
+In peace and honour live Lord Titus long ;
+My noble lord and father , live in fame !
+Lo ! at this tomb my tributary tears
+I render for my brethren's obsequies ;
+And at thy feet I kneel , with tears of joy
+Shed on the earth for thy return to Rome .
+O ! bless me here with thy victorious hand ,
+Whose fortunes Rome's best citizens applaud .
+
+Kind Rome , that hast thus lovingly reserv'd
+The cordial of mine age to glad my heart !
+Lavinia , live ; outlive thy father's days ,
+And fame's eternal date , for virtue's praise !
+
+
+Long live Lord Titus , my beloved brother ,
+Gracious triumpher in the eyes of Rome !
+
+Thanks , gentle Tribune , noble brother Marcus .
+
+And welcome , nephews , from successful wars ,
+You that survive , and you that sleep in fame !
+Fair lords , your fortunes are alike in all ,
+That in your country's service drew your swords ;
+But safer triumph is this funeral pomp ,
+That hath aspir'd to Solon's happiness ,
+And triumphs over chance in honour's bed .
+Titus Andronicus , the people of Rome ,
+Whose friend in justice thou hast ever been ,
+Send thee by me , their tribune and their trust ,
+This palliament of white and spotless hue ;
+And name thee in election for the empire ,
+With these our late-deceased emperor's sons :
+Be candidatus then , and put it on ,
+And help to set a head on headless Rome .
+
+A better head her glorious body fits
+Than his that shakes for age and feebleness .
+What should I don this robe , and trouble you ?
+Be chosen with proclamations to-day ,
+To-morrow yield up rule , resign my life ,
+And set abroad new business for you all ?
+Rome , I have been thy soldier forty years ,
+And led my country's strength successfully ,
+And buried one-and-twenty valiant sons ,
+Knighted in field , slain manfully in arms ,
+In right and service of their noble country .
+Give me a staff of honour for mine age ,
+But not a sceptre to control the world :
+Upright he held it , lords , that held it last .
+
+Titus , thou shalt obtain and ask the empery .
+
+Proud and ambitious tribune , canst thou tell ?
+
+Patience , Prince Saturninus .
+
+Romans , do me right :
+Patricians , draw your swords , and sheathe them not
+Till Saturninus be Rome's emperor .
+Andronicus , would thou wert shipp'd to hell ,
+Rather than rob me of the people's hearts !
+
+Proud Saturnine , interrupter of the good
+That noble-minded Titus means to thee !
+
+Content thee , prince ; I will restore to thee
+The people's hearts , and wean them from themselves .
+
+Andronicus , I do not flatter thee ,
+But honour thee , and will do till I die :
+My faction if thou strengthen with thy friends ,
+I will most thankful be ; and thanks to men
+Of noble minds is honourable meed .
+
+People of Rome , and people's tribunes here ,
+I ask your voices and your suffrages :
+Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus ?
+
+To gratify the good Andronicus ,
+And gratulate his safe return to Rome ,
+The people will accept whom he admits .
+
+Tribunes , I thank you ; and this suit I make ,
+That you create your emperor's eldest son ,
+Lord Saturnine ; whose virtues will , I hope ,
+Reflect on Rome as Titan's rays on earth ,
+And ripen justice in this commonweal :
+Then , if you will elect by my advice ,
+Crown him , and say , 'Long live our emperor !'
+
+With voices and applause of every sort ,
+Patricians and plebeians , we create
+Lord Saturninus Rome's great emperor ,
+And say , 'Long live our Emperor Saturnine !'
+
+
+Titus Andronicus , for thy favours done
+To us in our election this day ,
+I give thee thanks in part of thy deserts ,
+And will with deeds requite thy gentleness :
+And , for an onset , Titus , to advance
+Thy name and honourable family ,
+Lavinia will I make my empress ,
+Rome's royal mistress , mistress of my heart ,
+And in the sacred Pantheon her espouse .
+Tell me , Andronicus , doth this motion please thee ?
+
+It doth , my worthy lord ; and in this match
+I hold me highly honour'd of your Grace :
+And here in sight of Rome to Saturnine ,
+King and commander of our commonweal ,
+The wide world's emperor , do I consecrate
+My sword , my chariot , and my prisoners ;
+Presents well worthy Rome's imperious lord :
+Receive them then , the tribute that I owe ,
+Mine honour's ensigns humbled at thy feet .
+
+Thanks , noble Titus , father of my life !
+How proud I am of thee and of thy gifts
+Rome shall record , and , when I do forget
+The least of these unspeakable deserts ,
+Romans , forget your fealty to me .
+
+Now , madam , are you prisoner to an emperor ;
+To him that , for your honour and your state ,
+Will use you nobly and your followers .
+
+A goodly lady , trust me ; of the hue
+That I would choose , were I to choose anew .
+Clear up , fair queen , that cloudy countenance :
+Though chance of war hath wrought this change of cheer ,
+Thou com'st not to be made a scorn in Rome :
+Princely shall be thy usage every way .
+Rest on my word , and let not discontent
+Daunt all your hopes : madam , he comforts you
+Can make you greater than the Queen of Goths .
+Lavinia , you are not displeas'd with this ?
+
+Not I , my lord ; sith true nobility
+Warrants these words in princely courtesy .
+
+Thanks , sweet Lavinia . Romans , let us go ;
+Ransomless here we set our prisoners free :
+Proclaim our honours , lords , with trump and drum .
+
+
+Lord Titus , by your leave , this maid is mine .
+
+
+How , sir ! Are you in earnest then , my lord ?
+
+Ay , noble Titus ; and resolv'd withal
+To do myself this reason and this right .
+
+Suum cuique is our Roman justice :
+This prince in justice seizeth but his own .
+
+And that he will , and shall , if Lucius live .
+
+Traitors , avaunt ! Where is the emperor's guard ?
+Treason , my lord ! Lavinia is surpris'd .
+
+Surpris'd ! By whom ?
+
+By him that justly may
+Bear his betroth'd from all the world away .
+
+
+Brothers , help to convey her hence away ,
+And with my sword I'll keep this door safe .
+
+
+Follow , my lord , and I'll soon bring her back .
+
+My lord , you pass not here .
+
+What ! villain boy ;
+Barr'st me my way in Rome ?
+
+
+Help , Lucius , help !
+
+My lord , you are unjust ; and , more than so ,
+In wrongful quarrel you have slain your son .
+
+Nor thou , nor he , are any sons of mine ;
+My sons would never so dishonour me .
+Traitor , restore Lavinia to the emperor .
+
+Dead , if you will ; but not to be his wife
+That is another's lawful promis'd love .
+
+
+No , Titus , no ; the emperor needs her not ,
+Nor her , nor thee , nor any of thy stock :
+I'll trust , by leisure , him that mocks me once ;
+Thee never , nor thy traitorous haughty sons ,
+Confederates all thus to dishonour me .
+Was none in Rome to make a stale
+But Saturnine ? Full well , Andronicus ,
+Agreed these deeds with that proud brag of thine ,
+That saidst I begg'd the empire at thy hands .
+
+O monstrous ! what reproachful words are these !
+
+But go thy ways ; go , give that changing piece
+To him that flourish'd for her with his sword .
+A valiant son-in-law thou shalt enjoy ;
+One fit to bandy with thy lawless sons ,
+To ruffle in the commonwealth of Rome .
+
+These words are razors to my wounded heart .
+
+And therefore , lovely Tamora , Queen of Goths ,
+That like the stately Ph be 'mongst her nymphs ,
+Dost overshine the gallant'st dames of Rome ,
+If thou be pleas'd with this my sudden choice ,
+Behold , I choose thee , Tamora , for my bride ,
+And will create thee Empress of Rome .
+Speak , Queen of Goths , dost thou applaud my choice ?
+And here I swear by all the Roman gods ,
+Sith priest and holy water are so near ,
+And tapers burn so bright , and every thing
+In readiness for Hymen us stand ,
+I will not re-salute the streets of Rome ,
+Or climb my palace , till from forth this place
+I lead espous'd my bride along with me .
+
+And here , in sight of heaven , to Rome I swear ,
+If Saturnine advance the Queen of Goths ,
+She will a handmaid be to his desires ,
+A loving nurse , a mother to his youth .
+
+Ascend , fair queen , Pantheon . Lords , accompany
+Your noble emperor , and his lovely bride ,
+Sent by the heavens for Prince Saturnine ,
+Whose wisdom hath her fortune conquered :
+There shall we consummate our spousal rights .
+
+
+I am not bid to wait upon this bride .
+Titus , when wert thou wont to walk alone ,
+Dishonour'd thus , and challenged of wrongs ?
+
+
+O ! Titus , see , O ! see what thou hast done ;
+In a bad quarrel slain a virtuous son .
+
+No , foolish tribune , no ; no son of mine ,
+Nor thou , nor these , confederates in the deed
+That hath dishonour'd all our family :
+Unworthy brother , and unworthy sons !
+
+But let us give him burial , as becomes ;
+Give Mutius burial with our brethren .
+
+Traitors , away ! he rests not in this tomb .
+This monument five hundred years hath stood ,
+Which I have sumptuously re-edified :
+Here none but soldiers and Rome's servitors
+Repose in fame ; none basely slain in brawls .
+Bury him where you can ; he comes not here .
+
+My lord , this is impiety in you .
+My nephew Mutius' deeds do plead for him ;
+He must be buried with his brethren .
+
+And shall , or him we will accompany .
+
+And shall , or him we will accompany .
+
+And shall ! What villain was it spake that word ?
+
+He that would vouch it in any place but here .
+
+What ! would you bury him in my despite ?
+
+No , noble Titus ; but entreat of thee
+To pardon Mutius , and to bury him .
+
+Marcus , even thou hast struck upon my crest ,
+And , with these boys , mine honour thou hast wounded :
+My foes I do repute you every one ;
+So , trouble me no more , but get you gone .
+
+He is not with himself ; let us withdraw .
+
+Not I , till Mutius' bones be buried .
+
+
+Brother , for in that name doth nature plead ,
+
+Father , and in that name doth nature speak ,
+
+Speak thou no more , if all the rest will speed .
+
+Renowned Titus , more than half my soul ,
+
+Dear father , soul and substance of us all ,
+
+Suffer thy brother Marcus to inter
+His noble nephew here in virtue's nest ,
+That died in honour and Lavinia's cause .
+Thou art a Roman ; be not barbarous :
+The Greeks upon advice did bury Ajax
+That slew himself ; and wise Laertes' son
+Did graciously plead for his funerals .
+Let not young Mutius then , that was thy joy ,
+Be barr'd his entrance here .
+
+Rise , Marcus , rise .
+The dismall'st day is this that e'er I saw ,
+To be dishonour'd by my sons in Rome !
+Well , bury him , and bury me the next .
+
+
+There lie thy bones , sweet Mutius , with thy friends ,
+Till we with trophies do adorn thy tomb .
+
+No man shed tears for noble Mutius ;
+He lives in fame that died in virtue's cause .
+
+My lord ,to step out of these dreary dumps ,
+How comes it that the subtle Queen of Goths
+Is of a sudden thus advanc'd in Rome ?
+
+I know not , Marcus ; but I know it is ,
+Whether by device or no , the heavens can tell .
+Is she not , then , beholding to the man
+That brought her for this high good turn so far ?
+
+Yes , and will nobly him remunerate .
+
+So , Bassianus , you have play'd your prize :
+God give you joy , sir , of your gallant bride .
+
+And you of yours , my lord ! I say no more ,
+Nor wish no less ; and so I take my leave .
+
+Traitor , if Rome have law or we have power ,
+Thou and thy faction shall repent this rape .
+
+Rape call you it , my lord , to seize my own ,
+My true-betrothed love and now my wife ?
+But let the laws of Rome determine all ;
+Meanwhile , I am possess'd of that is mine .
+
+'Tis good , sir : you are very short with us ;
+But , if we live , we'll be as sharp with you .
+
+My lord , what I have done , as best I may ,
+Answer I must and shall do with my life .
+Only thus much I give your Grace to know :
+By all the duties that I owe to Rome ,
+This noble gentleman , Lord Titus here ,
+Is in opinion and in honour wrong'd ;
+That , in the rescue of Lavinia ,
+With his own hand did slay his youngest son ,
+In zeal to you and highly mov'd to wrath
+To be controll'd in that he frankly gave :
+Receive him then to favour , Saturnine ,
+That hath express'd himself in all his deeds
+A father and a friend to thee and Rome .
+
+Prince Bassianus , leave to plead my deeds :
+'Tis thou and those that have dishonour'd me .
+Rome and the righteous heavens be my judge ,
+How I have lov'd and honour'd Saturnine !
+
+My worthy lord , if ever Tamora
+Were gracious in those princely eyes of thine ,
+Then hear me speak indifferently for all ;
+And at my suit , sweet , pardon what is past .
+
+What , madam ! be dishonour'd openly ,
+And basely put it up without revenge ?
+
+Not so , my lord ; the gods of Rome forfend
+I should be author to dishonour you !
+But on mine honour dare I undertake
+For good Lord Titus' innocence in all ,
+Whose fury not dissembled speaks his griefs .
+Then , at my suit , look graciously on him ;
+Lose not so noble a friend on vain suppose ,
+Nor with sour looks afflict his gentle heart .
+
+
+My lord , be rul'd by me , be won at last ;
+Dissemble all your griefs and discontents :
+You are but newly planted in your throne ;
+Lest then , the people , and patricians too ,
+Upon a just survey , take Titus' part ,
+And so supplant you for ingratitude ,
+Which Rome reputes to be a heinous sin ,
+Yield at entreats , and then let me alone .
+I'll find a day to massacre them all ,
+And raze their faction and their family ,
+The cruel father , and his traitorous sons ,
+To whom I sued for my dear son's life ;
+And make them know what 'tis to let a queen
+Kneel in the streets and beg for grace in vain .
+
+
+Come , come , sweet emperor ; come , Andronicus ;
+Take up this good old man , and cheer the heart
+That dies in tempest of thy angry frown :
+
+Rise , Titus , rise ; my empress hath prevail'd .
+
+I thank your majesty , and her , my lord .
+These words , these looks , infuse new life in me .
+
+Titus , I am incorporate in Rome ,
+A Roman now adopted happily ,
+And must advise the emperor for his good .
+This day all quarrels die , Andronicus ;
+And let it be mine honour , good my lord ,
+That I have reconcil'd your friends and you .
+For you , Prince Bassianus , I have pass'd
+My word and promise to the emperor ,
+That you will be more mild and tractable .
+And fear not , lords , and you , Lavinia ,
+By my advice , all humbled on your knees ,
+You shall ask pardon of his majesty .
+
+We do ; and vow to heaven and to his highness ,
+That what we did was mildly , as we might ,
+Tendering our sister's honour and our own .
+
+That on mine honour here I do protest .
+
+Away , and talk not ; trouble us no more .
+
+Nay , nay , sweet emperor , we must all be friends :
+The tribune and his nephews kneel for grace ;
+I will not be denied : sweet heart , look back .
+
+Marcus , for thy sake , and thy brother's here ,
+And at my lovely Tamora's entreats ,
+I do remit these young men's heinous faults :
+Stand up .
+Lavinia , though you left me like a churl ,
+I found a friend , and sure as death I swore
+I would not part a bachelor from the priest .
+Come ; if the emperor's court can feast two brides ,
+You are my guest , Lavinia , and your friends .
+This day shall be a love-day , Tamora .
+
+To-morrow , an it please your majesty
+To hunt the panther and the hart with me ,
+With horn and hound we'll give your Grace bon jour .
+
+Be it so , Titus , and gramercy too .
+
+
+Now climbeth Tamora Olympus' top ,
+Safe out of Fortune's shot ; and sits aloft ,
+Secure of thunder's crack or lightning flash ,
+Advanc'd above pale envy's threat'ning reach .
+As when the golden sun salutes the morn ,
+And , having gilt the ocean with his beams ,
+Gallops the zodiac in his glistering coach ,
+And overlooks the highest-peering hills ;
+So Tamora .
+Upon her wit doth earthly honour wait
+And virtue stoops and trembles at her frown .
+Then , Aaron , arm thy heart , and fit thy thoughts
+To mount aloft with thy imperial mistress ,
+And mount her pitch , whom thou in triumph long
+Hast prisoner held , fetter'd in amorous chains ,
+And faster bound to Aaron's charming eyes
+Than is Prometheus tied to Caucasus .
+Away with slavish weeds and servile thoughts !
+I will be bright , and shine in pearl and gold ,
+To wait upon this new-made empress .
+To wait , said I ? to wanton with this queen ,
+This goddess , this Semiramis , this nymph ,
+This siren , that will charm Rome's Saturnine ,
+And see his shipwrack and his commonweal's .
+Holla ! what storm is this ?
+
+
+Chiron , thy years want wit , thy wit wants edge
+And manners , to intrude where I am grac'd ,
+And may , for aught thou know'st , affected be .
+
+Demetrius , thou dost over-ween in all
+And so in this , to bear me down with braves .
+'Tis not the difference of a year or two
+Makes me less gracious or thee more fortunate :
+I am as able and as fit as thou
+To serve , and to deserve my mistress' grace ;
+And that my sword upon thee shall approve ,
+And plead my passions for Lavinia's love .
+
+Clubs , clubs ! these lovers will not keep the peace .
+
+Why , boy , although our mother , unadvis'd ,
+Gave you a dancing-rapier by your side ,
+Are you so desperate grown , to threat your friends ?
+Go to ; have your lath glu'd within your sheath
+Till you know better how to handle it .
+
+Meanwhile , sir , with the little skill I have ,
+Full well shalt thou perceive how much I dare .
+
+Ay , boy , grow ye so brave ?
+
+
+Why , how now , lords !
+So near the emperor's palace dare you draw ,
+And maintain such a quarrel openly ?
+Full well I wot the ground of all this grudge :
+I would not for a million of gold
+The cause were known to them it most concerns ;
+Nor would your noble mother for much more
+Be so dishonour'd in the court of Rome .
+For shame , put up .
+
+Not I , till I have sheath'd
+My rapier in his bosom , and withal
+Thrust those reproachful speeches down his throat
+That he hath breath'd in my dishonour here .
+
+For that I am prepar'd and full resolv'd ,
+Foul-spoken coward , that thunder'st with thy tongue ,
+And with thy weapon nothing dar'st perform !
+
+Away , I say !
+Now , by the gods that war-like Goths adore ,
+This petty brabble will undo us all .
+Why , lords , and think you not how dangerous
+It is to jet upon a prince's right ?
+What ! is Lavinia then become so loose ,
+Or Bassianus so degenerate ,
+That for her love such quarrels may be broach'd
+Without controlment , justice , or revenge ?
+Young lords , beware ! an should the empress know
+This discord's ground , the music would not please .
+
+I care not , I , knew she and all the world :
+I love Lavinia more than all the world .
+
+Youngling , learn thou to make some meaner choice :
+Lavinia is thine elder brother's hope .
+
+Why , are ye mad ? or know ye not in Rome
+How furious and impatient they be ,
+And cannot brook competitors in love ?
+I tell you , lords , you do but plot your deaths
+By this device .
+
+Aaron , a thousand deaths
+Would I propose , to achieve her whom I love .
+
+To achieve her ! how ?
+
+Why mak'st thou it so strange ?
+She is a woman , therefore may be woo'd ;
+She is a woman , therefore may be won ;
+She is Lavinia , therefore must be lov'd .
+What , man ! more water glideth by the mill
+Than wots the miller of ; and easy it is
+Of a cut loaf to steal a shive , we know :
+Though Bassianus be the emperor's brother ,
+Better than he have worn Vulcan's badge .
+
+Ay , and as good as Saturninus may .
+
+Then why should he despair that knows to court it
+With words , fair looks , and liberality ?
+What ! hast thou not full often struck a doe ,
+And borne her cleanly by the keeper's nose ?
+
+Why , then , it seems , some certain snatch or so
+Would serve your turns .
+
+Ay , so the turn were serv'd .
+
+Aaron , thou hast hit it .
+
+Would you had hit it too !
+Then should not we be tir'd with this ado .
+Why , hark ye , hark ye ! and are you such fools
+To square for this ? Would it offend you then
+That both should speed ?
+
+Faith , not me .
+
+Nor me , so I were one .
+
+For shame , be friends , and join for that you jar :
+'Tis policy and stratagem must do
+That you affect ; and so must you resolve ,
+That what you cannot as you would achieve ,
+You must perforce accomplish as you may .
+Take this of me : Lucrece was not more chaste
+Than this Lavinia , Bassianus' love .
+A speedier course than lingering languishment
+Must we pursue , and I have found the path .
+My lords , a solemn hunting is in hand ;
+There will the lovely Roman ladies troop :
+The forest walks are wide and spacious ,
+And many unfrequented plots there are
+Fitted by kind for rape and villany :
+Single you thither then this dainty doe ,
+And strike her home by force , if not by words :
+This way , or not at all , stand you in hope .
+Come , come , our empress , with her sacred wit
+To villany and vengeance consecrate ,
+Will we acquaint with all that we intend ;
+And she shall file our engines with advice ,
+That will not suffer you to square yourselves ,
+But to your wishes' height advance you both .
+The emperor's court is like the house of Fame ,
+The palace full of tongues , of eyes , and ears :
+The woods are ruthless , dreadful , deaf , and dull ;
+There speak , and strike , brave boys , and take your turns ;
+There serve your lusts , shadow'd from heaven's eye ,
+And revel in Lavinia's treasury .
+
+Thy counsel , lad , smells of no cowardice .
+
+Sit fas aut nefas , till I find the stream
+To cool this heat , a charm to calm these fits ,
+Per Styga , per manes vehor .
+
+The hunt is up , the morn is bright and grey ,
+The fields are fragrant and the woods are green .
+Uncouple here and let us make a bay ,
+And wake the emperor and his lovely bride ,
+And rouse the prince and ring a hunter's peal ,
+That all the court may echo with the noise .
+Sons , let it be your charge , as it is ours ,
+To attend the emperor's person carefully :
+I have been troubled in my sleep this night ,
+But dawning day new comfort hath inspir'd .
+
+Many good morrows to your majesty ;
+Madam , to you as many and as good ;
+
+I promised your Grace a hunter's peal .
+
+And you have rung it lustily , my lord ;
+Somewhat too early for new-married ladies .
+
+Lavinia , how say you ?
+
+I say , no ;
+I have been broad awake two hours and more .
+
+Come on , then ; horse and chariots let us have ,
+And to our sport .
+
+Madam , now shall ye see
+Our Roman hunting .
+
+I have dogs , my lord ,
+Will rouse the proudest panther in the chase ,
+And climb the highest promontory top .
+
+And I have horse will follow where the game
+Makes way , and run like swallows o'er the plain .
+
+Chiron , we hunt not , we , with horse nor hound ,
+But hope to pluck a dainty doe to ground .
+
+
+He that had wit would think that I had none ,
+To bury so much gold under a tree ,
+And never after to inherit it .
+Let him that thinks of me so abjectly
+Know that this gold must coin a stratagem ,
+Which , cunningly effected , will beget
+A very excellent piece of villany :
+And so repose , sweet gold , for their unrest
+That have their alms out of the empress' chest .
+
+My lovely Aaron , wherefore look'st thou sad ,
+When every thing doth make a gleeful boast ?
+The birds chant melody on every bush ,
+The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun ,
+The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind ,
+And make a chequer'd shadow on the ground .
+Under their sweet shade , Aaron , let us sit ,
+And , whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds ,
+Replying shrilly to the well-tun'd horns ,
+As if a double hunt were heard at once ,
+Let us sit down and mark their yelping noise ;
+And after conflict , such as was suppos'd
+The wandering prince and Dido once enjoy'd ,
+When with a happy storm they were surpris'd ,
+And curtain'd with a counsel-keeping cave ,
+We may , each wreathed in the other's arms ,
+Our pastimes done , possess a golden slumber ;
+Whiles hounds and horns and sweet melodious birds
+Be unto us as is a nurse's song
+Of lullaby to bring her babe asleep .
+
+Madam , though Venus govern your desires ,
+Saturn is dominator over mine :
+What signifies my deadly-standing eye ,
+My silence and my cloudy melancholy ;
+My fleece of woolly hair that now uncurls
+Even as an adder when she doth unroll
+To do some fatal execution ?
+No , madam , these are no venereal signs :
+Vengeance is in my heart , death in my hand ,
+Blood and revenge are hammering in my head .
+Hark , Tamora , the empress of my soul ,
+Which never hopes more heaven than rests in thee ,
+This is the day of doom for Bassianus ;
+His Philomel must lose her tongue to-day ,
+Thy sons make pillage of her chastity ,
+And wash their hands in Bassianus' blood .
+Seest thou this letter ? take it up , I pray thee ,
+And give the king this fatal-plotted scroll .
+Now question me no more ; we are espied ;
+Here comes a parcel of our hopeful booty ,
+Which dreads not yet their lives' destruction .
+
+Ah ! my sweet Moor , sweeter to me than life .
+
+No more , great empress ; Bassianus comes :
+Be cross with him ; and I'll go fetch thy sons
+To back thy quarrels , whatsoe'er they be .
+
+Who have we here ? Rome's royal empress ,
+Unfurnish'd of her well-beseeming troop ?
+Or is it Dian , habited like her ,
+Who hath abandoned her holy groves ,
+To see the general hunting in this forest ?
+
+Saucy controller of our private steps !
+Had I the power that some say Dian had ,
+Thy temples should be planted presently
+With horns , as was Act on's ; and the hounds
+Should drive upon thy new-transformed limbs ,
+Unmannerly intruder as thou art !
+
+Under your patience , gentle empress ,
+'Tis thought you have a goodly gift in horning ;
+And to be doubted that your Moor and you
+Are singled forth to try experiments .
+Jove shield your husband from his hounds to-day !
+'Tis pity they should take him for a stag .
+
+Believe me , queen , your swarth Cimmerian
+Doth make your honour of his body's hue ,
+Spotted , detested , and abominable .
+Why are you sequester'd from all your train ,
+Dismounted from your snow-white goodly steed ,
+And wander'd hither to an obscure plot ,
+Accompanied but with a barbarous Moor ,
+If foul desire had not conducted you ?
+
+And , being intercepted in your sport ,
+Great reason that my noble lord be rated
+For sauciness . I pray you , let us hence ,
+And let her joy her raven-colour'd love ;
+This valley fits the purpose passing well .
+
+The king my brother shall have note of this .
+
+Ay , for these slips have made him noted long :
+Good king , to be so mightily abus'd !
+
+Why have I patience to endure all this ?
+
+
+How now , dear sovereign , and our gracious mother !
+Why doth your highness look so pale and wan ?
+
+Have I not reason , think you , to look pale ?
+These two have 'tic'd me hither to this place :
+A barren detested vale , you see , it is ;
+The trees , though summer , yet forlorn and lean ,
+O'ercome with moss and baleful mistletoe :
+Here never shines the sun ; here nothing breeds ,
+Unless the nightly owl or fatal raven :
+And when they show'd me this abhorred pit ,
+They told me , here , at dead time of the night ,
+A thousand fiends , a thousand hissing snakes ,
+Ten thousand swelling toads , as many urchins ,
+Would make such fearful and confused cries ,
+As any mortal body hearing it
+Should straight fall mad , or else die suddenly .
+No sooner had they told this hellish tale ,
+But straight they told me they would bind me here
+Unto the body of a dismal yew ,
+And leave me to this miserable death :
+And then they called me foul adulteress ,
+Lascivious Goth , and all the bitterest terms
+That ever ear did hear to such effect ;
+And , had you not by wondrous fortune come ,
+This vengeance on me had they executed .
+Revenge it , as you love your mother's life ,
+Or be ye not henceforth call'd my children .
+
+This is a witness that I am thy son .
+
+
+And this for me , struck home to show my strength .
+
+
+Ay , come , Semiramis , nay , barbarous Tamora ;
+For no name fits thy nature but thy own .
+
+Give me thy poniard ; you shall know , my boys ,
+Your mother's hand shall right your mother's wrong .
+
+Stay , madam ; here is more belongs to her :
+First thrash the corn , than after burn the straw .
+This minion stood upon her chastity ,
+Upon her nuptial vow , her loyalty ,
+And with that painted hope she braves your mightiness :
+And shall she carry this unto her grave ?
+
+An if she do , I would I were an eunuch .
+Drag hence her husband to some secret hole ,
+And make his dead trunk pillow to our lust .
+
+But when ye have the honey ye desire ,
+Let not this wasp outlive , us both to sting .
+
+I warrant you , madam , we will make that sure .
+Come , mistress , now perforce we will enjoy
+That nice-preserved honesty of yours .
+
+O Tamora ! thou bear'st a woman's face ,
+
+I will not hear her speak ; away with her !
+
+Sweet lords , entreat her hear me but a word .
+
+Listen , fair madam : let it be your glory
+To see her tears ; but be your heart to them
+As unrelenting flint to drops of rain .
+
+When did the tiger's young ones teach the dam ?
+O ! do not learn her wrath ; she taught it thee ;
+The milk thou suck'dst from her did turn to marble ;
+Even at thy teat thou hadst thy tyranny .
+Yet every mother breeds not sons alike :
+
+
+Do thou entreat her show a woman pity .
+
+What ! wouldst thou have me prove myself a bastard ?
+
+'Tis true ! the raven doth not hatch a lark :
+Yet have I heard , O ! could I find it now ,
+The lion mov'd with pity did endure
+To have his princely paws par'd all away .
+Some say that ravens foster forlorn children ,
+The whilst their own birds famish in their nests :
+O ! be to me , though thy hard heart say no ,
+Nothing so kind , but something pitiful .
+
+I know not what it means ; away with her !
+
+O , let me teach thee ! for my father's sake ,
+That gave thee life when well he might have slain thee ,
+Be not obdurate , open thy deaf ears .
+
+Hadst thou in person ne'er offended me ,
+Even for his sake am I pitiless .
+Remember , boys , I pour'd forth tears in vain
+To save your brother from the sacrifice ;
+But fierce Andronicus would not relent :
+Therefore , away with her , and use her as you will :
+The worse to her , the better lov'd of me .
+
+O Tamora ! be call'd a gentle queen ,
+And with thine own hands kill me in this place ;
+For 'tis not life that I have begg'd so long ;
+Poor I was slain when Bassianus died .
+
+What begg'st thou then ? fond woman , let me go .
+
+'Tis present death I beg ; and one thing more
+That womanhood denies my tongue to tell .
+O ! keep me from their worse than killing lust ,
+And tumble me into some loathsome pit ,
+Where never man's eye may behold my body :
+Do this , and be a charitable murderer .
+
+So should I rob my sweet sons of their fee :
+No , let them satisfy their lust on thee .
+
+Away ! for thou hast stay'd us here too long .
+
+No grace ! no womanhood ! Ah , beastly creature ,
+The blot and enemy to our general name .
+Confusion fall
+
+Nay , then I'll stop your mouth . Bring thou her husband :
+This is the hole where Aaron bid us hide him .
+
+Farewell , my sons : see that you make her sure .
+Ne'er let my heart know merry cheer indeed
+Till all the Andronici be made away .
+Now will I hence to seek my lovely Moor ,
+And let my spleenful sons this trull deflower .
+
+Come on , my lords , the better foot before :
+Straight will I bring you to the loathsome pit
+Where I espied the panther fast asleep .
+
+My sight is very dull , whate'er it bodes .
+
+And mine , I promise you : were't not for shame ,
+Well could I leave our sport to sleep awhile .
+
+
+What ! art thou fall'n ? What subtle hole is this ,
+Whose mouth is cover'd with rude-growing briers ,
+Upon whose leaves are drops of new-shed blood
+As fresh as morning's dew distill'd on flowers ?
+A very fatal place it seems to me .
+Speak , brother , hast thou hurt thee with the fall ?
+
+O brother ! with the dismall'st object hurt
+That ever eye with sight made heart lament .
+
+Now will I fetch the king to find them here ,
+That he thereby may give a likely guess
+How these were they that made away his brother .
+
+
+Why dost not comfort me , and help me out
+From this unhallow'd and blood-stained hole ?
+
+I am surprised with an uncouth fear ;
+A chilling sweat o'erruns my trembling joints :
+My heart suspects more than mine eye can see .
+
+To prove thou hast a true-divining heart ,
+Aaron and thou look down into this den ,
+And see a fearful sight of blood and death .
+
+Aaron is gone ; and my compassionate heart
+Will not permit mine eyes once to behold
+The thing whereat it trembles by surmise .
+O ! tell me how it is ; for ne'er till now
+Was I a child , to fear I know not what .
+
+Lord Bassianus lies embrewed here ,
+All on a heap , like to a slaughter'd lamb ,
+In this detested , dark , blood-drinking pit .
+
+If it be dark , how dost thou know 'tis he ?
+
+Upon his bloody finger he doth wear
+A precious ring , that lightens all the hole ,
+Which , like a taper in some monument ,
+Doth shine upon the dead man's earthy cheeks ,
+And shows the ragged entrails of the pit :
+So pale did shine the moon on Pyramus
+When he by night lay bath'd in maiden blood .
+O brother ! help me with thy fainting hand ,
+If fear hath made thee faint , as me it hath ,
+Out of this fell devouring receptacle ,
+As hateful as Cocytus' misty mouth .
+
+Reach me thy hand , that I may help thee out ;
+Or , wanting strength to do thee so much good
+I may be pluck'd into the swallowing womb
+Of this deep pit , poor Bassianus' grave .
+I have no strength to pluck thee to the brink .
+
+Nor I no strength to climb without thy help .
+
+Thy hand once more ; I will not loose again ,
+Till thou art here aloft , or I below .
+Thou canst not come to me : I come to thee .
+
+Along with me : I'll see what hole is here ,
+And what he is that now is leap'd into it .
+Say , who art thou that lately didst descend
+Into this gaping hollow of the earth ?
+
+The unhappy son of old Andronicus ;
+Brought hither in a most unlucky hour ,
+To find thy brother Bassianus dead .
+
+My brother dead ! I know thou dost but jest :
+He and his lady both are at the lodge ,
+Upon the north side of this pleasant chase ;
+'Tis not an hour since I left him there .
+
+We know not where you left him all alive ;
+But , out alas ! here have we found him dead .
+
+
+Where is my lord , the king ?
+
+Here , Tamora ; though griev'd with killing grief .
+
+Where is thy brother Bassianus ?
+
+Now to the bottom dost thou search my wound :
+Poor Bassianus here lies murdered .
+
+Then all too late I bring this fatal writ ,
+
+The complot of this timeless tragedy ;
+And wonder greatly that man's face can fold
+In pleasing smiles such murderous tyranny .
+
+And if we miss to meet him handsomely ,
+Sweet huntsman , Bassianus 'tis we mean ,
+Do thou so much as dig the grave for him :
+Thou know'st our meaning . Look for thy reward
+Among the nettles at the elder-tree
+Which overshades the mouth of that same pit
+Where we decreed to bury Bassianus :
+Do this , and purchase us thy lasting friends .
+O Tamora ! was ever heard the like ?
+This is the pit , and this the elder-tree .
+Look , sirs , if you can find the huntsman out
+That should have murder'd Bassianus here .
+
+My gracious lord , here is the bag of gold .
+
+Two of thy whelps , fell curs of bloody kind ,
+Have here bereft my brother of his life .
+Sirs , drag them from the pit unto the prison :
+There let them bide until we have devis'd
+Some never-heard-of torturing pain for them .
+
+What ! are they in this pit ? O wondrous thing !
+How easily murder is discovered !
+
+High emperor , upon my feeble knee
+I beg this boon with tears not lightly shed ;
+That this fell fault of my accursed sons ,
+Accursed , if the fault be prov'd in them ,
+
+If it be prov'd ! you see it is apparent .
+Who found this letter ? Tamora , was it you ?
+
+Andronicus himself did take it up .
+
+I did , my lord : yet let me be their bail ;
+For , by my father's reverend tomb , I vow
+They shall be ready at your highness' will
+To answer their suspicion with their lives .
+
+Thou shalt not bail them : see thou follow me .
+Some bring the murder'd body , some the murderers :
+Let them not speak a word ; the guilt is plain ;
+For , by my soul , were there worse end than death ,
+That end upon them should be executed .
+
+Andronicus , I will entreat the king :
+Fear not thy sons , they shall do well enough .
+
+Come , Lucius , come ; stay not to talk with them .
+
+
+So , now go tell , an if thy tongue can speak ,
+Who 'twas that cut thy tongue and ravish'd thee .
+
+Write down thy mind , bewray thy meaning so ;
+An if thy stumps will let thee play the scribe .
+
+See , how with signs and tokens she can scrowl .
+
+Go home , call for sweet water , wash thy hands .
+
+She hath no tongue to call , nor hands to wash ;
+And so let's leave her to her silent walks .
+
+An 'twere my case , I should go hang myself .
+
+If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the cord .
+
+Who's this ? my niece , that flies away so fast ?
+Cousin , a word ; where is your husband ?
+If I do dream , would all my wealth would wake me !
+If I do wake , some planet strike me down ,
+That I may slumber in eternal sleep !
+Speak , gentle niece , what stern ungentle hands
+Have lopp'd and hew'd and made thy body bare
+Of her two branches , those sweet ornaments ,
+Whose circling shadows kings have sought to sleep in ,
+And might not gain so great a happiness
+As have thy love ? Why dost not speak to me ?
+Alas ! a crimson river of warm blood ,
+Like to a bubbling fountain stirr'd with wind ,
+Doth rise and fall between thy rosed lips ,
+Coming and going with thy honey breath .
+But , sure , some Tereus hath deflower'd thee ,
+And , lest thou shouldst detect him , cut thy tongue .
+Ah ! now thou turn'st away thy face for shame ;
+And , notwithstanding all this loss of blood ,
+As from a conduit with three issuing spouts ,
+Yet do thy cheeks look red as Titan's face
+Blushing to be encounter'd with a cloud .
+Shall I speak for thee ? shall I say 'tis so ?
+O ! that I knew thy heart ; and knew the beast ,
+That I might rail at him to ease my mind .
+Sorrow concealed , like to an oven stopp'd ,
+Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is .
+Fair Philomela , she but lost her tongue ,
+And in a tedious sampler sew'd her mind :
+But , lovely niece , that mean is cut from thee ;
+A craftier Tereus hast thou met withal ,
+And he hath cut those pretty fingers off ,
+That could have better sew'd than Philomel .
+O ! had the monster seen those lily hands
+Tremble , like aspen-leaves , upon a lute ,
+And make the silken strings delight to kiss them ,
+He would not , then , have touch'd them for his life ;
+Or had he heard the heavenly harmony
+Which that sweet tongue hath made ,
+He would have dropp'd his knife , and fell asleep ,
+As Cerberus at the Thracian poet's feet .
+Come , let us go , and make thy father blind ;
+For such a sight will blind a father's eye :
+One hour's storm will drown the fragrant meads ;
+What will whole months of tears thy father's eyes ?
+Do not draw back , for we will mourn with thee :
+O ! could our mourning ease thy misery .
+
+Hear me , grave fathers ! noble tribunes , stay !
+For pity of mine age , whose youth was spent
+In dangerous wars , whilst you securely slept ;
+For all my blood in Rome's great quarrel shed ;
+For all the frosty nights that I have watch'd ;
+And for these bitter tears , which now you see
+Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks ;
+Be pitiful to my condemned sons ,
+Whose souls are not corrupted as 'tis thought .
+For two and twenty sons I never wept ,
+Because they died in honour's lofty bed .
+For these , these , tribunes , in the dust I write
+
+My heart's deep languor and my soul's sad tears .
+Let my tears stanch the earth's dry appetite ;
+My sons' sweet blood will make it shame and blush .
+
+O earth ! I will befriend thee more with rain ,
+That shall distil from these two ancient urns ,
+Than youthful April shall with all his showers :
+In summer's drought I'll drop upon thee still ;
+In winter with warm tears I'll melt the snow ,
+And keep eternal spring-time on thy face ,
+So thou refuse to drink my dear sons' blood .
+
+
+O reverend tribunes ! O gentle , aged men !
+Unbind my sons , reverse the doom of death :
+And let me say , that never wept before ,
+
+My tears are now prevailing orators .
+
+O noble father , you lament in vain :
+The tribunes hear you not , no man is by ;
+And you recount your sorrows to a stone .
+
+Ah ! Lucius , for thy brothers let me plead .
+Grave tribunes , once more I entreat of you ,
+
+My gracious lord , no tribune hears you speak .
+
+Why , 'tis no matter , man : if they did hear ,
+They would not mark me , or if they did mark ,
+They would not pity me , yet plead I must ,
+All bootless unto them .
+Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones ,
+Who , though they cannot answer my distress ,
+Yet in some sort they are better than the tribunes ,
+For that they will not intercept my tale .
+When I do weep , they humbly at my feet
+Receive my tears , and seem to weep with me ;
+And , were they but attired in grave weeds ,
+Rome could afford no tribune like to these .
+A stone is soft as wax , tribunes more hard than stones ;
+A stone is silent , and offendeth not ,
+And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death .
+
+But wherefore stand'st thou with thy weapon drawn ?
+
+To rescue my two brothers from their death ;
+For which attempt the judges have pronounc'd
+My everlasting doom of banishment .
+
+O happy man ! they have befriended thee .
+Why , foolish Lucius , dost thou not perceive
+That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers ?
+Tigers must prey ; and Rome affords no prey
+But me and mine : how happy art thou then ,
+From these devourers to be banished !
+But who comes with our brother Marcus here ?
+
+
+Titus , prepare thy aged eyes to weep ;
+Or , if not so , thy noble heart to break :
+I bring consuming sorrow to thine age .
+
+Will it consume me ? let me see it then .
+
+This was thy daughter .
+
+Why , Marcus , so she is .
+
+Ay me ! this object kills me .
+
+Faint-hearted boy , arise , and look upon her .
+Speak , Lavinia , what accursed hand
+Hath made thee handless in thy father's sight ?
+What fool hath added water to the sea ,
+Or brought a faggot to bright-burning Troy ?
+My grief was at the height before thou cam'st ;
+And now , like Nilus , it disdaineth bounds .
+Give me a sword , I'll chop off my hands too ;
+For they have fought for Rome , and all in vain ;
+And they have nurs'd this woe , in feeding life ;
+In bootless prayer have they been held up ,
+And they have serv'd me to effectless use :
+Now all the service I require of them
+Is that the one will help to cut the other .
+'Tis well , Lavinia , that thou hast no hands ,
+For hands , to do Rome service , are but vain .
+
+Speak , gentle sister , who hath martyr'd thee ?
+
+O ! that delightful engine of her thoughts ,
+That blabb'd them with such pleasing eloquence ,
+Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage ,
+Where , like a sweet melodious bird , it sung
+Sweet varied notes , enchanting every ear .
+
+O ! say thou for her , who hath done this deed ?
+
+O ! thus I found her straying in the park ,
+Seeking to hide herself , as doth the deer ,
+That hath receiv'd some unrecuring wound .
+
+It was my dear ; and he that wounded her
+Hath hurt me more than had he kill'd me dead :
+For now I stand as one upon a rock
+Environ'd with a wilderness of sea ,
+Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave ,
+Expecting ever when some envious surge
+Will in his brinish bowels swallow him .
+This way to death my wretched sons are gone ;
+Here stands my other son , a banish'd man ,
+And here my brother , weeping at my woes :
+But that which gives my soul the greatest spurn ,
+Is dear Lavinia , dearer than my soul .
+Had I but seen thy picture in this plight
+It would have madded me : what shall I do
+Now I behold thy lively body so ?
+Thou hast no hands to wipe away thy tears ,
+Nor tongue to tell me who hath martyr'd thee :
+Thy husband he is dead , and for his death
+Thy brothers are condemn'd , and dead by this .
+Look ! Marcus ; ah ! son Lucius , look on her :
+When I did name her brothers , then fresh tears
+Stood on her cheeks , as doth the honey-dew
+Upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd .
+
+Perchance she weeps because they kill'd her husband ;
+Perchance because she knows them innocent .
+
+If they did kill thy husband , then be joyful ,
+Because the law hath ta'en revenge on them .
+No , no , they would not do so foul a deed ;
+Witness the sorrow that their sister makes .
+Gentle Lavinia , let me kiss thy lips ;
+Or make some sign how I may do thee ease .
+Shall thy good uncle , and thy brother Lucius ,
+And thou , and I , sit round about some fountain ,
+Looking all downwards , to behold our cheeks
+How they are stain'd , like meadows yet not dry ,
+With miry alime left on them by a flood ?
+And in the fountain shall we gaze so long
+Till the fresh taste be taken from that clearness ,
+And made a brine-pit with our bitter tears ?
+Or shall we cut away our hands , like thine ?
+Or shall we bite our tongues , and in dumb shows
+Pass the remainder of our hateful days ?
+What shall we do ? let us , that have our tongues ,
+Plot some device of further misery ,
+To make us wonder'd at in time to come .
+
+Sweet father , cease your tears ; for at your grief
+See how my wretched sister sobs and weeps .
+
+Patience , dear niece . Good Titus , dry thine eyes .
+
+Ah ! Marcus , Marcus , brother ; well I wot
+Thy napkin cannot drink a tear of mine ,
+For thou , poor man , hast drown'd it with thine own .
+
+Ah ! my Lavinia , I will wipe thy cheeks .
+
+Mark , Marcus , mark ! I understand her signs :
+Had she a tongue to speak , now would she say
+That to her brother which I said to thee :
+His napkin , with his true tears all bewet ,
+Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks .
+O ! what a sympathy of woe is this ;
+As far from help as limbo is from bliss .
+
+
+Titus Andronicus , my lord the emperor
+Sends thee this word : that , if thou love thy sons ,
+Let Marcus , Lucius , or thyself , old Titus ,
+Or any one of you , chop off your hand ,
+And send it to the king : he for the same
+Will send thee hither both thy sons alive ;
+And that shall be the ransom for their fault .
+
+O gracious emperor ! O gentle Aaron !
+Did ever raven sing so like a lark ,
+That gives sweet tidings of the sun's uprise ?
+With all my heart , I'll send the emperor my hand :
+Good Aaron , wilt thou help to chop it off ?
+
+Stay , father ! for that noble hand of thine ,
+That hath thrown down so many enemies ,
+Shall not be sent ; my hand will serve the turn :
+My youth can better spare my blood than you ;
+And therefore mine shall save my brothers' lives .
+
+Which of your hands hath not defended Rome ,
+And rear'd aloft the bloody battle-axe ,
+Writing destruction on the enemy's castle ?
+O ! none of both but are of high desert :
+My hand hath been but idle ; let it serve
+To ransom my two nephews from their death ;
+Then have I kept it to a worthy end .
+
+Nay , come , agree whose hand shall go along ,
+For fear they die before their pardon come .
+
+My hand shall go .
+
+By heaven , it shall not go !
+
+Sirs , strive no more : such wither'd herbs as these
+Are meet for plucking up , and therefore mine .
+
+Sweet father , if I shall be thought thy son ,
+Let me redeem my brothers both from death .
+
+And for our father's sake , and mother's care ,
+Now let me show a brother's love to thee .
+
+Agree between you ; I will spare my hand .
+
+Then I'll go fetch an axe .
+
+But I will use the axe .
+
+
+Come hither , Aaron ; I'll deceive them both :
+Lend me thy hand , and I will give thee mine .
+
+If that be call'd deceit , I will be honest ,
+And never , whilst I live , deceive men so :
+But I'll deceive you in another sort ,
+And that you'll say , ere half an hour pass .
+
+Now stay your strife : what shall be is dispatch'd .
+Good Aaron , give his majesty my hand :
+Tell him it was a hand that warded him
+From thousand dangers ; bid him bury it ;
+More hath it merited ; that let it have .
+As for my sons , say I account of them
+As jewels purchas'd at an easy price ;
+And yet dear too , because I bought mine own .
+
+I go , Andronicus ; and for thy hand ,
+Look by and by to have thy sons with thee .
+
+
+Their heads , I mean . O ! how this villany
+Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it .
+Let fools do good , and fair men call for grace ,
+Aaron will have his soul black like his face .
+
+
+O ! here I lift this one hand up to heaven ,
+And how this feeble ruin to the earth :
+If any power pities wretched tears ,
+To that I call !
+
+What ! wilt thou kneel with me ?
+Do , then , dear heart ; for heaven shall hear our prayers ,
+Or with our sighs we'll breathe the welkin dim ,
+And stain the sun with fog , as sometime clouds
+When they do hug him in their melting bosoms .
+
+O ! brother , speak with possibilities ,
+And do not break into these deep extremes .
+
+Is not my sorrow deep , having no bottom ?
+Then be my passions bottomless with them .
+
+But yet let reason govern thy lament .
+
+If there were reason for these miseries ,
+Then into limits could I bind my woes .
+When heaven doth weep , doth not the earth o'erflow ?
+If the winds rage , doth not the sea wax mad ,
+Threat'ning the welkin with his big-swoln face ?
+And wilt thou have a reason for this coil ?
+I am the sea ; hark ! how her sighs do blow ;
+She is the weeping welkin , I the earth :
+Then must my sea be moved with her sighs ;
+Then must my earth with her continual tears
+Become a deluge , overflow'd and drown'd ;
+For why my bowels cannot hide her woes ,
+But like a drunkard must I vomit them .
+Then give me leave , for losers will have leave
+To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues .
+
+
+Worthy Andronicus , ill art thou repaid
+For that good hand thou sent'st the emperor .
+Here are the heads of thy two noble sons ,
+And here's thy hand , in scorn to thee sent back :
+Thy griefs their sports , thy resolution mock'd ;
+That woe is me to think upon thy woes ,
+More than remembrance of my father's death .
+
+
+Now let hot tna cool in Sicily ,
+And be my heart an ever burning hell !
+These miseries are more than may be borne .
+To weep with them that weep doth ease some deal ,
+But sorrow flouted at is double death .
+
+Ah ! that this sight should make so deep a wound ,
+And yet detested life not shrink thereat ,
+That ever death should let life bear his name ,
+Where life hath no more interest but to breathe .
+
+
+Alas ! poor heart ; that kiss is comfortless
+As frozen water to a starved snake .
+
+When will this fearful slumber have an end ?
+
+Now , farewell , flattery : die , Andronicus ;
+Thou dost not slumber : see , thy two sons' heads ,
+Thy war-like hand , thy mangled daughter here ;
+Thy other banish'd son , with this dear sight
+Struck pale and bloodless ; and thy brother , I ,
+Even like a stony image , cold and numb .
+Ah ! now no more will I control thy griefs .
+Rent off thy silver hair , thy other hand
+Gnawing with thy teeth ; and be this dismal sight
+The closing up of our most wretched eyes !
+Now is a time to storm ; why art thou still ?
+
+Ha , ha , ha !
+
+Why dost thou laugh ? it fits not with this hour .
+
+Why , I have not another tear to shed :
+Besides , this sorrow is an enemy ,
+And would usurp upon my watery eyes ,
+And make them blind with tributary tears :
+Then which way shall I find Revenge's cave ?
+For these two heads do seem to speak to me ,
+And threat me I shall never come to bliss
+Till all these mischiefs be return'd again
+Even in their throats that have committed them .
+Come , let me see what task I have to do .
+You heavy people , circle me about ,
+That I may turn me to each one of you ,
+And swear unto my soul to right your wrongs .
+The vow is made . Come , brother , take a head ;
+And in this hand the other will I bear .
+Lavinia , thou shalt be employ'd in these things :
+Bear thou my hand , sweet wench , between thy teeth .
+As for thee , boy , go get thee from my sight ;
+Thou art an exile , and thou must not stay :
+Hie to the Goths , and raise an army there :
+And if you love me , as I think you do ,
+Let's kiss and part , for we have much to do .
+
+
+Farewell , Andronicus , my noble father ;
+The woefull'st man that ever liv'd in Rome :
+Farewell , proud Rome ; till Lucius come again ,
+He leaves his pledges dearer than his life .
+Farewell , Lavinia , my noble sister ;
+O ! would thou wert as thou tofore hast been ;
+But now nor Lucius nor Lavinia lives
+But in oblivion and hateful griefs .
+If Lucius live , he will requite your wrongs ,
+And make proud Saturnine and his empress
+Beg at the gates like Tarquin and his queen .
+Now will I to the Goths , and raise a power ,
+To be reveng'd on Rome and Saturnine .
+
+
+So , so ; now sit ; and look you eat no more
+Than will preserve just so much strength in us
+As will revenge these bitter woes of ours .
+Marcus , unknit that sorrow-wreathen knot :
+Thy niece and I , poor creatures , want our hands ,
+And cannot passionate our ten-fold grief
+With folded arms . This poor right hand of mine
+Is left to tyrannize upon my breast ;
+And when my heart , all mad with misery ,
+Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh ,
+Then thus I thump it down .
+
+
+Thou map of woe , that thus dost talk in signs !
+When thy poor heart beats with outrageous beating
+Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still .
+Wound it with sighing , girl , kill it with groans ;
+Or get some little knife between thy teeth ,
+And just against thy heart make thou a hole ;
+That all the tears that thy poor eyes let fall
+May run into that sink , and , soaking in ,
+Drown the lamenting fool in sea-salt tears .
+
+Fie , brother , fie ! teach her not thus to lay
+Such violent hands upon her tender life .
+
+How now ! has sorrow made thee dote already ?
+Why , Marcus , no man should be mad but I .
+What violent hands can she lay on her life ?
+Ah ! wherefore dost thou urge the name of hands ;
+To bid aeas tell the tale twice o'er ,
+How Troy was burnt and he made miserable ?
+O ! handle not the theme , to talk of hands ,
+Lest we remember still that we have none .
+Fie , fie ! how franticly I square my talk ,
+As if we should forget we had no hands ,
+If Marcus did not name the word of hands .
+Come , let's fall to ; and , gentle girl , eat this :
+Here is no drink . Hark , Marcus , what she says ;
+I can interpret all her martyr'd signs :
+She says she drinks no other drink but tears ,
+Brew'd with her sorrow , mash'd upon her cheeks .
+Speechless complainer , I will learn thy thought ;
+In thy dumb action will I be as perfect
+As begging hermits in their holy prayers :
+Thou shalt not sigh , nor hold thy stumps to heaven ,
+Nor wink , nor nod , nor kneel , nor make a sign ,
+But I of these will wrest an alphabet ,
+And by still practice learn to know thy meaning .
+
+Good grandsire , leave these bitter deep laments :
+Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale .
+
+Alas ! the tender boy , in passion mov'd ,
+Doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness .
+
+Peace , tender sapling ; thou art made of tears ,
+And tears will quickly melt thy life away .
+
+What dost thou strike at , Marcus , with thy knife ?
+
+At that that I have kill'd , my lord ; a fly .
+
+Out on thee , murderer ! thou kill'st my heart ;
+Mine eyes are cloy'd with view of tyranny :
+A deed of death , done on the innocent ,
+Becomes not Titus' brother . Get thee gone ;
+I see , thou art not for my company .
+
+Alas ! my lord , I have but kill'd a fly .
+
+But how if that fly had a father and a mother ?
+How would he hang his slender gilded wings
+And buzz lamenting doings in the air !
+Poor harmless fly ,
+That , with his pretty buzzing melody ,
+Came here to make us merry ! and thou hast kill'd him .
+
+Pardon me , sir ; it was a black ill-favour'd fly ,
+Like to the empress' Moor ; therefore I kill'd him .
+
+O , O , O !
+Then pardon me for reprehending thee ,
+For thou hast done a charitable deed .
+Give me thy knife , I will insult on him ;
+Flattering myself , as if it were the Moor
+Come hither purposely to poison me .
+There's for thyself , and that's for Tamora .
+Ah ! sirrah .
+Yet I think we are not brought so low ,
+But that between us we can kill a fly
+That comes in likeness of a coal-black Moor .
+
+Alas ! poor man ; grief has so wrought on him ,
+He takes false shadows for true substances .
+
+Come , take away . Lavinia , go with me :
+I'll to thy closet ; and go read with thee
+Sad stories chanced in the times of old .
+Come , boy , and go with me : thy sight is young ,
+And thou shalt read when mine begins to dazzle .
+
+Help , grandsire , help ! my aunt Lavinia
+Follows me everywhere , I know not why :
+Good uncle Marcus , see how swift she comes :
+Alas ! sweet aunt , I know not what you mean .
+
+Stand by me , Lucius ; do not fear thine aunt .
+
+She loves thee , boy , too well to do thee harm .
+
+Ay , when my father was in Rome , she did .
+
+What means my niece Lavinia by these signs ?
+
+Fear her not , Lucius : somewhat doth she mean .
+See , Lucius , see how much she makes of thee ;
+Somewhither would she have thee go with her .
+Ah ! boy ; Cornelia never with more care
+Read to her sons , than she hath read to thee
+Sweet poetry and Tully's Orator .
+
+Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus ?
+
+My lord , I know not , I , nor can I guess ,
+Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her ;
+For I have heard my grandsire say full oft ,
+Extremity of griefs would make men mad ;
+And I have read that Hecuba of Troy
+Ran mad through sorrow ; that made me to fear ,
+Although , my lord , I know my noble aunt
+Loves me as dear as e'er my mother did ,
+And would not , but in fury , fright my youth ;
+Which made me down to throw my books and fly ,
+Causeless , perhaps . But pardon me , sweet aunt ;
+And , madam , if my uncle Marcus go ,
+I will most willingly attend your ladyship .
+
+Lucius , I will .
+
+
+How now , Lavinia ! Marcus , what means this ?
+Some book there is that she desires to see .
+Which is it , girl , of these ? Open them , boy .
+But thou art deeper read , and better skill'd ;
+Come , and take choice of all my library ,
+And so beguile thy sorrow , till the heavens
+Reveal the damn'd contriver of this deed .
+Why lifts she up her arms in sequence thus ?
+
+I think she means that there was more than one
+Confederate in the fact : ay , more there was ;
+Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge .
+
+Lucius ; what book is that she tosseth so ?
+
+Grandsire , 'tis Ovid's Metamorphoses ;
+My mother gave it me .
+
+For love of her that's gone ,
+Perhaps , she cull'd it from among the rest .
+
+Soft ! see how busily she turns the leaves !
+
+What would she find ? Lavinia , shall I read ?
+This is the tragic tale of Philomel ,
+And treats of Tereus' treason and his rape ;
+And rape , I fear , was root of thine annoy .
+
+See , brother , see ! note how she quotes the leaves .
+
+Lavinia , wert thou thus surpris'd , sweet girl ,
+Ravish'd and wrong'd , as Philomela was ,
+Forc'd in the ruthless , vast , and gloomy woods ?
+See , see !
+Ay , such a place there is , where we did hunt ,
+O ! had we never , never hunted there ,
+Pattern'd by that the poet here describes ,
+By nature made for murders and for rapes .
+
+O ! why should nature build so foul a den ,
+Unless the gods delight in tragedies ?
+
+Give signs , sweet girl , for here are none but friends ,
+What Roman lord it was durst do the deed :
+Or slunk not Saturnine , as Tarquin erst ,
+That left the camp to sin in Lucrece' bed ?
+
+Sit down , sweet niece : brother , sit down by me .
+Apollo , Pallas , Jove , or Mercury ,
+Inspire me , that I may this treason find !
+My lord , look here ; look here , Lavinia :
+This sandy plot is plain ; guide , if thou canst ,
+This after me .
+
+I have writ my name
+Without the help of any hand at all .
+Curs'd be that heart that forc'd us to this shift !
+Write thou , good niece , and here display at last
+What God will have discover'd for revenge .
+Heaven guide thy pen to print thy sorrows plain ,
+That we may know the traitors and the truth !
+
+
+O ! do you read , my lord , what she hath writ ?
+Stuprum , Chiron , Demetrius .
+
+What , what ! the lustful sons of Tamora
+Performers of this heinous , bloody deed ?
+
+Magni dominator poli ,
+Tam lentus audis scelera ? tam lentus vides ?
+
+O ! calm thee , gentle lord ; although I know
+There is enough written upon this earth
+To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts
+And arm the minds of infants to exclaims .
+My lord , kneel down with me ; Lavinia , kneel ;
+And kneel , sweet boy , the Roman Hector's hope ;
+And swear with me , as , with the woeful fere
+And father of that chaste dishonour'd dame ,
+Lord Junius Brutus sware for Lucrece' rape ,
+That we will prosecute by good advice
+Mortal revenge upon these traitorous Goths ,
+And see their blood , or die with this reproach .
+
+'Tis sure enough , an you knew how ;
+But if you hunt these bear-whelps , then beware :
+The dam will wake , an if she wind you once :
+She's with the lion deeply still in league ,
+And lulls him whilst she playeth on her back ,
+And when he sleeps will she do what she list .
+You're a young huntsman , Marcus ; let it alone ;
+And , come , I will go get a leaf of brass ,
+And with a gad of steel will write these words ,
+And lay it by : the angry northern wind
+Will blow these sands like Sibyl's leaves abroad ,
+And where's your lesson then ? Boy , what say you ?
+
+I say , my lord , that if I were a man ,
+Their mother's bed-chamber should not be safe
+For these bad bondmen to the yoke of Rome .
+
+Ay , that's my boy ! thy father hath full oft
+For his ungrateful country done the like .
+
+And , uncle , so will I , an if I live .
+
+Come , go with me into mine armoury :
+Lucius , I'll fit thee ; and withal my boy
+Shall carry from me to the empress' sons
+Presents that I intend to send them both :
+Come , come ; thou'lt do thy message , wilt thou not ?
+
+Ay , with my dagger in their bosoms , grandsire .
+
+No , boy , not so ; I'll teach thee another course .
+Lavinia , come . Marcus , look to my house ;
+Lucius and I'll go brave it at the court :
+Ay , marry , will we , sir ; and we'll be waited on .
+
+
+O heavens ! can you hear a good man groan ,
+And not relent or not compassion him ?
+Marcus , attend him in his ecstasy ,
+That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart
+Than foemen's marks upon his batter'd shield ;
+But yet so just that he will not revenge .
+Revenge , ye heavens , for old Andronicus !
+
+
+Demetrius , here's the son of Lucius ;
+He hath some message to deliver us .
+
+Ay , some mad message from his mad grandfather .
+
+My lords , with all the humbleness I may ,
+I greet your honours from Andronicus ;
+
+
+And pray the Roman gods , confound you both !
+
+Gramercy , lovely Lucius : what's the news ?
+
+That you are both decipher'd , that's the news ,
+For villains mark'd with rape .
+
+May it please you ,
+My grandsire , well advis'd , hath sent by me
+The goodliest weapons of his armoury ,
+To gratify your honourable youth ,
+The hope of Rome , for so he bade me say ;
+And so I do , and with his gifts present
+Your lordships , that whenever you have need ,
+You may be armed and appointed well .
+And so I leave you both :
+
+like bloody villains .
+
+
+What's here ? A scroll ; and written round about ?
+Let's see :
+
+'Integer vit , scelerisque purus ,
+Non eget Mauri jaculis , nec arcu .
+
+
+O ! 'tis a verse in Horace ; I know it well :
+I read it in the grammar long ago .
+
+Ay just , a verse in Horace ; right , you have it .
+
+
+Now , what a thing it is to be an ass !
+Here's no sound jest ! the old man hath found their guilt
+And sends them weapons wrapp'd about with lines ,
+That wound , beyond their feeling , to the quick ;
+But were our witty empress well afoot ,
+She would applaud Andronicus' conceit :
+But let her rest in her unrest awhile .
+
+
+And now , young lords , was't not a happy star
+Led us to Rome , strangers , and more than so ,
+Captives , to be advanced to this height ?
+It did me good before the palace gate
+To brave the tribune in his brother's hearing .
+
+But me more good , to see so great a lord
+Basely insinuate and send us gifts .
+
+Had he not reason , Lord Demetrius ?
+Did you not use his daughter very friendly ?
+
+I would we had a thousand Roman dames
+At such a bay , by turn to serve our lust .
+
+A charitable wish and full of love .
+
+Here lacks but your mother for to say amen .
+
+And that would she for twenty thousand more .
+
+Come , let us go and pray to all the gods
+For our beloved mother in her pains .
+
+Pray to the devils ; the gods have given us over .
+
+
+Why do the emperor's trumpets flourish thus ?
+
+Belike , for joy the emperor hath a son .
+
+Soft ! who comes here ?
+
+
+Good morrow , lords . O ! tell me , did you see
+Aaron the Moor ?
+
+Well , more or less , or ne'er a whit at all ,
+Here Aaron is ; and what with Aaron now ?
+
+O gentle Aaron ! we are all undone .
+Now help , or woe betide thee evermore !
+
+Why , what a caterwauling dost thou keep !
+What dost thou wrap and fumble in thine arms ?
+
+O ! that which I would hide from heaven's eye ,
+Our empress' shame , and stately Rome's disgrace !
+She is deliver'd , lords , she is deliver'd .
+
+To whom ?
+
+I mean , she's brought a-bed .
+
+Well , God give her good rest ! What hath he sent her ?
+
+A devil .
+
+Why , then she's the devil's dam : a joyful issue .
+
+A joyless , dismal , black , and sorrowful issue .
+Here is the babe , as loathsome as a toad
+Amongst the fairest breeders of our clime .
+The empress sends it thee , thy stamp , thy seal ,
+And bids thee christen it with thy dagger's point .
+
+'Zounds , ye whore ! is black so base a hue ?
+Sweet blowse , you are a beauteous blossom , sure .
+
+Villain , what hast thou done ?
+
+That which thou canst not undo .
+
+Thou hast undone our mother .
+
+Villain , I have done thy mother .
+
+And therein , hellish dog , thou hast undone .
+Woe to her chance , and damn'd her loathed choice !
+Accurs'd the offspring of so foul a fiend !
+
+It shall not live .
+
+It shall not die .
+
+Aaron , it must ; the mother wills it so .
+
+What ! must it , nurse ? then let no man but I
+Do execution on my flesh and blood .
+
+I'll broach the tadpole on my rapier's point :
+Nurse , give it me ; my sword shall soon dispatch it .
+
+Sooner this sword shall plough thy bowels up .
+
+Stay , murderous villains ! will you kill your brother ?
+Now , by the burning tapers of the sky ,
+That shone so brightly when this boy was got ,
+He dies upon my scimitar's sharp point
+That touches this my first-born son and heir .
+I tell you , younglings , not Enceladus ,
+With all his threatening band of Typhon's brood ,
+Nor great Alcides , nor the god of war ,
+Shall seize this prey out of his father's hands .
+What , what , ye sanguine , shallow-hearted boys !
+Ye white-lim'd walls ! ye alehouse painted signs !
+Coal-black is better than another hue ,
+In that it scorns to bear another hue ;
+For all the water in the ocean
+Can never turn the swan's black legs to white ,
+Although she lave them hourly in the flood .
+Tell the empress from me , I am of age
+To keep mine own , excuse it how she can .
+
+Wilt thou betray thy noble mistress thus ?
+
+My mistress is my mistress ; this myself ;
+The vigour , and the picture of my youth :
+This before all the world do I prefer ;
+This maugre all the world will I keep safe ,
+Or some of you shall smoke for it in Rome .
+
+By this our mother is for ever sham'd .
+
+Rome will despise her for this foul escape .
+
+The emperor in his rage will doom her death .
+
+I blush to think upon this ignomy .
+
+Why , there's the privilege your beauty bears .
+Fie , treacherous hue ! that will betray with blushing
+The close enacts and counsels of the heart :
+Here's a young lad fram'd of another leer :
+Look how the black slavesmiles upon the father ,
+As who should say , 'Old lad , I am thine own .'
+He is your brother , lords , sensibly fed
+Of that self blood that first gave life to you ;
+And from that womb where you imprison'd were
+He is enfranchised and come to light :
+Nay , he is your brother by the surer side ,
+Although my seal be stamped in his face .
+
+Aaron , what shall I say unto the empress ?
+
+Advise thee , Aaron , what is to be done ,
+And we will all subscribe to thy advice :
+Save thou the child , so we may all be safe .
+
+Then sit we down , and let us all consult ,
+My son and I will have the wind of you :
+Keep there ; now talk at pleasure of your safety .
+
+
+How many women saw this child of his ?
+
+Why , so , brave lords ! when we join in league ,
+I am a lamb ; but if you brave the Moor ,
+The chafed boar , the mountain lioness ,
+The ocean swells not so as Aaron storms .
+But say , again , how many saw the child ?
+
+Cornelia the midwife , and myself ,
+And no one else but the deliver'd empress .
+
+The empress , the midwife , and yourself :
+Two may keep counsel when the third's away .
+Go to the empress ; tell her this I said :
+
+'Weke , weke !'
+So cries a pig prepared to the spit .
+
+What mean'st thou , Aaron ? Wherefore didst thou this ?
+
+O lord , sir , 'tis a deed of policy :
+Shall she live to betray this guilt of ours ,
+A long-tongu'd babbling gossip ? no , lords , no .
+And now be it known to you my full intent .
+Not far , one Muli lives , my countryman ;
+His wife but yesternight was brought to bed .
+His child is like to her , fair as you are :
+Go pack with him , and give the mother gold ,
+And tell them both the circumstance of all ,
+And how by this their child shall be advanc'd ,
+And be received for the emperor's heir ,
+And substituted in the place of mine ,
+To calm this tempest whirling in the court ;
+And let the emperor dandle him for his own .
+Hark ye , lords ; you see , I have given her physic ,
+
+And you must needs bestow her funeral ;
+The fields are near , and you are gallant grooms .
+This done , see that you take no longer days ,
+But send the midwife presently to me .
+The midwife and the nurse well made away ,
+Then let the ladies tattle what they please .
+
+Aaron , I see thou wilt not trust the air
+With secrets .
+
+For this care of Tamora ,
+Herself and hers are highly hound to thee .
+
+
+Now to the Goths , as swift as swallow flies :
+There to dispose this treasure in mine arms ,
+And secretly to greet the empress' friends .
+Come on , you thick-lipp'd slave , I'll bear you hence ;
+For it is you that puts us to our shifts :
+I'll make you feed on berries and on roots ,
+And feed on curds and whey , and suck the goat ,
+And cabin in a cave , and bring you up
+To be a warrior , and command a camp .
+
+
+Come , Marcus , come ; kinsmen , this is the way .
+Sir boy , now let me see your archery :
+Look ye draw home enough , and 'tis there straight .
+Terras Astr a reliquit :
+Be you remember'd , Marcus , she's gone , she's fled .
+Sirs , take you to your tools . You , cousins , shall
+Go sound the ocean , and cast your nets ;
+Happily you may find her in the sea ;
+Yet there's as little justice as at land .
+No ; Publius and Sempronius , you must do it ;
+'Tis you must dig with mattock and with spade ,
+And pierce the inmost centre of the earth :
+Then , when you come to Pluto's region ,
+I pray you , deliver him this petition ;
+Tell him , it is for justice and for aid ,
+And that it comes from old Andronicus ,
+Shaken with sorrows in ungrateful Rome .
+Ah ! Rome . Well , well ; I made thee miserable
+What time I threw the people's suffrages
+On him that thus doth tyrannize o'er me .
+Go , get you gone ; and pray be careful all ,
+And leave you not a man-of-war unsearch'd :
+This wicked emperor may have shipp'd her hence ;
+And , kinsmen , then we may go pipe for justice .
+
+O Publius ! is not this a heavy case ,
+To see thy noble uncle thus distract ?
+
+Therefore , my lord , it highly us concerns
+By day and night to attend him carefully ,
+And feed his humour kindly as we may ,
+Till time beget some careful remedy .
+
+Kinsmen , his sorrows are past remedy .
+Join with the Goths , and with revengeful war
+Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude ,
+And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine .
+
+Publius , how now ! how now , my masters !
+What ! have you met with her ?
+
+No , my good lord ; but Pluto sends you word ,
+If you will have Revenge from hell , you shall :
+Marry , for Justice , she is so employ'd ,
+He thinks , with Jove in heaven , or somewhere else ,
+So that perforce you must needs stay a time .
+
+He doth me wrong to feed me with delays .
+I'll dive into the burning lake below ,
+And pull her out of Acheron by the heels .
+Marcus , we are but shrubs , no cedars we ;
+No big-bon'd men fram'd of the Cyclops' size ;
+But metal , Marcus , steel to the very back ,
+Yet wrung with wrongs more than our backs can bear :
+And sith there's no justice in earth nor hell ,
+We will solicit heaven and move the gods
+To send down Justice for to wreak our wrongs .
+Come , to this gear . You are a good archer , Marcus .
+
+Ad Javem , that's for you : here , ad Apollinem :
+Ad Martem , that's for myself :
+Here , boy , to Pallas : here , to Mercury :
+To Saturn , Caius , not to Saturnine ;
+You were as good to shoot against the wind .
+To it , boy ! Marcus , loose when I bid .
+Of my word , I have written to effect ;
+There's not a god left unsolicited .
+
+Kinsmen , shoot all your shafts into the court :
+We will afflict the emperor in his pride .
+
+Now , masters , draw .
+
+O ! well said , Lucius !
+Good boy , in Virgo's lap : give it Pallas .
+
+My lord , I aim a mile beyond the moon ;
+Your letter is with Jupiter by this .
+
+Ha ! Publius , Publius , what hast thou done ?
+See , see ! thou hast shot off one of Taurus' horns .
+
+This was the sport , my lord : when Publius shot ,
+The Bull , being gall'd , gave Aries such a knock
+That down fell both the Ram's horns in the court ;
+And who should find them but the empress' villain ?
+She laugh'd , and told the Moor , he should not choose
+But give them to his master for a present .
+
+Why , there it goes : God give his lordship joy !
+
+
+News ! news from heaven ! Marcus , the post is come .
+Sirrah , what tidings ? have you any letters ?
+
+Shall I have justice ? what says Jupiter ?
+
+O ! tho gibbet-maker ? He says that he hath taken them down again , for the man must not be hanged till the next week .
+
+But what says Jupiter , I ask thee ?
+
+Alas ! sir , I know not Jupiter ; I never drank with him in all my life .
+
+Why , villain , art not thou the carrier ?
+
+Ay , of my pigeons , sir ; nothing else .
+
+Why , didst thou not come from heaven ?
+
+From heaven ! alas ! sir , I never came there . God forbid I should be so bold to press to heaven in my young days . Why , I am going with my pigeons to the tribunal plebs , to take up a matter of brawl betwixt my uncle and one of the emperial's men .
+
+Why , sir , that is as fit as can be to serve for your oration ; and let him deliver the pigeons to the emperor from you .
+
+Tell me , can you deliver an oration to the emperor with a grace ?
+
+Nay , truly , sir , I could never say grace in all my life .
+
+Sirrah , come hither : make no more ado ,
+But give your pigeons to the emperor :
+By me thou shalt have justice at his hands .
+Hold , hold ; meanwhile , here's money for thy charges .
+Give me pen and ink .
+Sirrah , can you with a grace deliver a supplication ?
+
+Ay , sir .
+
+Then here is a supplication for you . And when you come to him , at the first approach you must kneel ; then kiss his foot ; then deliver up your pigeons ; and then look for your reward . I'll be at hand , sir ; see you do it bravely .
+
+I warrant you , sir ; let me alone .
+
+Sirrah , hast thou a knife ? Come , let me see it .
+Here , Marcus , fold it in the oration ;
+For thou hast made it like a humble suppliant :
+And when thou hast given it to the emperor ,
+Knock at my door , and tell me what he says .
+
+God be with you , sir ; I will .
+
+Come , Marcus , let us go . Publius , follow me .
+
+Why , lords , what wrongs are these ! Was ever seen
+An emperor of Rome thus overborne ,
+Troubled , confronted thus ; and , for the extent
+Of egal justice , us'd in such contempt ?
+My lords , you know , as do the mightful gods ,
+However these disturbers of our peace
+Buzz in the people's ears ,there nought hath pass'd ,
+But even with law , against the wilful sons
+Of old Andronicus . And what an if
+His sorrows have so overwhelm'd his wits ,
+Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks ,
+His fits , his frenzy , and his bitterness ?
+And now he writes to heaven for his redress :
+See , here's to Jove , and this to Mercury ;
+This to Apollo ; this to the god of war ;
+Sweet scrolls to fly about the streets of Rome !
+What's this but libelling against the senate ,
+And blazoning our injustice every where ?
+A goodly humour , is it not , my lords ?
+As who would say , in Rome no justice were .
+But if I live , his feigned ecstasies
+Shall be no shelter to these outrages ;
+But he and his shall know that justice lives
+In Saturninus' health ; whom , if she sleep ,
+He'll so awake , as she in fury shall
+Cut off the proud'st conspirator that lives .
+
+My gracious lord , my lovely Saturnine ,
+Lord of my life , commander of my thoughts ,
+Calm thee , and bear the faults of Titus' age ,
+The effects of sorrow for his valiant sons ,
+Whose loss hath pierc'd him deep and scarr'd his heart ;
+And rather comfort his distressed plight
+Than prosecute the meanest or the best
+For these contempts .
+
+Why , thus it shall become
+High-witted Tamora to gloze with all :
+But , Titus , I have touch'd thee to the quick ,
+Thy life-blood out : if Aaron now be wise ,
+Then is all safe , the anchor's in the port .
+
+How now , good fellow ! wouldst thou speak with us ?
+
+Yea , forsooth , an your mistership be emperial .
+
+Empress I am , but yonder sits the emperor .
+
+'Tis he . God and Saint Stephen give you good den .
+I have brought you a letter and a couple of pigeons here .
+
+
+Go , take him away , and hang him presently .
+
+How much money must I have ?
+
+Come , sirrah , you must be hanged .
+
+Hanged ! By 'r , lady , then I have brought up a neck to a fair end .
+
+
+Despiteful and intolerable wrongs !
+Shall I endure this monstrous villany ?
+I know from whence this same device proceeds :
+May this be borne ? As if his traitorous sons ,
+That died by law for murder of our brother ,
+Have by my means been butcher'd wrongfully !
+Go , drag the villain hither by the hair ;
+Nor age nor honour shall shape privilege .
+For this proud mock I'll be thy slaughterman ;
+Sly frantic wretch , that holp'st to make me great ,
+In hope thyself should govern Rome and me .
+
+What news with thee , milius ?
+
+Arm , arm , my lord ! Rome never had more cause .
+The Goths have gather'd head , and with a power
+Of high-resolved men , bent to the spoil ,
+They hither march amain , under conduct
+Of Lucius , son to old Andronicus ;
+Who threats , in course of this revenge , to do
+As much as ever Coriolanus did .
+
+Is war-like Lucius general of the Goths ?
+These tidings nip me , and I hang the head
+As flowers with frost or grass beat down with storms .
+Ay , now begin our sorrows to approach :
+'Tis he the common people love so much ;
+Myself hath often heard them say ,
+When I have walked like a private man ,
+That Lucius' banishment was wrongfully ,
+And they have wish'd that Lucius were their emperor .
+
+Why should you fear ? is not your city strong ?
+
+Ay , but the citizens favour Lucius ,
+And will revolt from me to succour him .
+
+King , be thy thoughts imperious , like thy name .
+Is the sun dimm'd , that gnats do fly in it ?
+The eagle suffers little birds to sing ,
+And is not careful what they mean thereby ,
+Knowing that with the shadow of his wings
+He can at pleasure stint their melody ;
+Even so mayst thou the giddy men of Rome .
+Then cheer thy spirit ; for know , thou emperor ,
+I will enchant the old Andronicus
+With words more sweet , and yet more dangerous ,
+Than baits to fish , or honey-stalks to sheep ,
+Whenas the one is wounded with the bait ,
+The other rotted with delicious feed .
+
+But he will not entreat his son for us .
+
+If Tamora entreat him , then he will :
+For I can smooth and fill his aged ear
+With golden promises , that , were his heart
+Almost impregnable , his old ears deaf ,
+Yet should both ear and heart obey my tongue .
+
+
+Go thou before , be our ambassador :
+Say that the emperor requests a parley
+Of war-like Lucius , and appoint the meeting ,
+Even at his father's house , the old Andronicus .
+
+milius , do this message honourably :
+And if he stand on hostage for his safety ,
+Bid him demand what pledge will please him best .
+
+Your bidding shall I do effectually .
+
+
+Now will I to that old Andronicus ,
+And temper him with all the art I have ,
+To pluck proud Lucius from the war-like Goths .
+And now , sweet emperor , be blithe again ,
+And bury all thy fear in my devices .
+
+Then go successantly , and plead to him .
+
+Approved warriors , and my faithful friends ,
+I have received letters from great Rome ,
+Which signify what hate they bear their emperor ,
+And how desirous of our sight they are .
+Therefore , great lords , be , as your titles witness ,
+Imperious and impatient of your wrongs ;
+And wherein Rome hath done you any scath ,
+Let him make treble satisfaction .
+
+Brave slip , sprung from the great Andronicus ,
+Whose name was once our terror , now our comfort ;
+Whose high exploits and honourable deeds
+Ingrateful Rome requites with foul contempt ,
+Be bold in us : we'll follow where thou lead'st ,
+Like stinging bees in hottest summer's day
+Led by their master to the flower'd fields ,
+And be aveng'd on cursed Tamora .
+
+And , as he saith , so say we all with him .
+
+I humbly thank him , and I thank you all .
+But who comes here , led by a lusty Goth ?
+
+
+Renowned Lucius , from our troops I stray'd ,
+To gaze upon a ruinous monastery ;
+And as I earnestly did fix mine eye
+Upon the wasted building , suddenly
+I heard a child cry underneath a wall .
+I made unto the noise ; when soon I heard
+The crying babe controll'd with this discourse :
+'Peace , tawny slave , half me and half thy dam !
+Did not thy hue bewray whose brat thou art ,
+Had nature lent thee but thy mother's look ,
+Villain , thou mightst have been an emperor :
+But where the bull and cow are both milk-white ,
+They never do beget a coal-black calf .
+Peace , villain , peace !' even thus he rates the babe ,
+'For I must bear thee to a trusty Goth ;
+Who , when he knows thou art the empress' babe ,
+Will hold thee dearly for thy mother's sake .'
+With this , my weapon drawn , I rush'd upon him ,
+Surpris'd him suddenly , and brought him hither ,
+To use as you think needful of the man .
+
+O worthy Goth , this is the incarnate devil
+That robb'd Andronicus of his good hand :
+This is the pearl that pleas'd your empress' eye ,
+And here's the base fruit of his burning lust .
+Say , wall-ey'd slave , whither wouldst thou convey
+This growing image of thy fiend-like face ?
+Why dost not speak ? What ! deaf ? not a word ?
+A halter , soldiers ! hang him on this tree ,
+And by his side his fruit of bastardy .
+
+Touch not the boy ; he is of royal blood .
+
+Too like the sire for ever being good .
+First hang the child , that he may see it sprawl ;
+A sight to vex the father's soul withal .
+Get me a ladder .
+
+
+Lucius , save the child ;
+And bear it from me to the empress .
+If thou do this , I'll show thee wondrous things ,
+That highly may advantage thee to hear :
+If thou wilt not , befall what may befall ,
+I'll speak no more but 'Vengeance rot you all !'
+
+Say on ; and if it please me which thou speak'st ,
+Thy child shall live , and I will see it nourish'd .
+
+An if it please thee ! why , assure thee , Lucius ,
+'Twill vex'thy soul to hear what I shall speak ;
+For I must talk of murders , rapes , and massacres ,
+Acts of black night , abominable deeds ,
+Complots of mischief , treason , villanies
+Ruthful to hear , yet piteously perform'd :
+And this shall all be buried by my death ,
+Unless thou swear to me my child shall live .
+
+Tell on thy mind : I say , thy child shall live .
+
+Swear that he shall , and then I will begin .
+
+Who should I swear by ? thou believ'st no god :
+That granted , how canst thou believe an oath ?
+
+What if I do not ? as , indeed , I do not ;
+Yet , for I know thou art religious ,
+And hast a thing within thee called conscience ,
+With twenty popish tricks and ceremonies ,
+Which I have seen thee careful to observe ,
+Therefore I urge thy oath ; for that I know
+An idiot holds his bauble for a god ,
+And keeps the oath which by that god he swears ,
+To that I'll urge him : therefore thou shalt vow
+By that same god , what god soe'er it be ,
+That thou ador'st and hast in reverence ,
+To save my boy , to nourish and bring him up :
+Or else I will discover nought to thee .
+
+Even by my god I swear to thee I will .
+
+First , know thou , I begot him on the empress .
+
+O most insatiate and luxurious woman !
+
+Tut ! Lucius , this was but a deed of charity
+To that which thou shalt hear of me anon .
+'Twas her two sons that murder'd Bassianus ;
+They cut thy sister's tongue and ravish'd her ,
+And cut her hands and trimm'd her as thou saw'st .
+
+O detestable villain ! call'st thou that trimming ?
+
+Why , she was wash'd , and cut , and trimm'd , and 'twas
+Trim sport for them that had the doing of it .
+
+O barbarous , beastly villains , like thyself !
+
+Indeed , I was their tutor to instruct them .
+That codding spirit had they from their mother ,
+As sure a card as ever won the set ;
+That bloody mind , I think , they learn'd of me
+As true a dog as ever fought at head .
+Well , let my deeds be witness of my worth .
+I train'd thy brethren to that guileful hole
+Where the dead corpse of Bassianus lay ;
+I wrote the letter that thy father found ,
+And hid the gold within the letter mention'd ,
+Confederate with the queen and her two sons :
+And what not done , that thou hast cause to rue ,
+Wherein I had no stroke of mischief in it ?
+I play'd the cheater for thy father's hand ,
+And , when I had it , drew myself apart ,
+And almost broke my heart with extreme laughter .
+I pry'd me through the crevice of a wall
+When , for his hand , he had his two sons' heads ;
+Beheld his tears , and laugh'd so heartily ,
+That both mine eyes were rainy like to his :
+And when I told the empress of this sport ,
+She swounded almost at my pleasing tale ,
+And for my tidings gave me twenty kisses .
+
+What ! canst thou say all this , and never blush ?
+
+Ay , like a black dog , as the saying is .
+
+Art thou not sorry for these heinous deeds ?
+
+Ay , that I had not done a thousand more .
+Even now I curse the day , and yet , I think ,
+Few come within the compass of my curse ,
+Wherein I did not some notorious ill :
+As kill a man , or else devise his death ;
+Ravish a maid , or plot the way to do it ;
+Accuse some innocent , and forswear myself ;
+Set deadly enmity between two friends ;
+Make poor men's cattle break their necks ;
+Set fire on barns and hay-stacks in the night ,
+And bid the owners quench them with their tears ,
+Oft have I digg'd up dead men from their graves ,
+And set them upright at their dear friends' doors ,
+Even when their sorrows almost were forgot ;
+And on their skins , as on the bark of trees ,
+Have with my knife carved in Roman letters ,
+'Let not your sorrow die , though I am dead .'
+Tut ! I have done a thousand dreadful things
+As willingly as one would kill a fly ,
+And nothing grieves me heartily indeed
+But that I cannot do ten thousand more .
+
+Bring down the devil , for he must not die
+So sweet a death as hanging presently .
+
+If there be devils , would I were a devil ,
+To live and burn in everlasting fire ,
+So I might have your company in hell ,
+But to torment you with my bitter tongue !
+
+Sirs , stop his mouth , and let him speak no more .
+
+
+My lord , there is a messenger from Rome
+Desires to be admitted to your presence .
+
+Let him come near .
+
+Welcome , milius ! what's the news from Rome ?
+
+Lord Lucius , and you princes of the Goths ,
+The Roman emperor greets you all by me ;
+And , for he understands you are in arms ,
+He craves a parley at your father's house ,
+Willing you to demand your hostages ,
+And they shall be immediately deliver'd .
+
+What says our general ?
+
+milius , let the emperor give his pledges
+Unto my father and my uncle Marcus ,
+And we will come . March away .
+
+
+Thus , in this strange and sad habiliment ,
+I will encounter with Andronicus ,
+And say I am Revenge , sent from below
+To join with him and right his heinous wrongs .
+Knock at his study , where , they say , he keeps ,
+To ruminate strange plots of dire revenge ;
+Tell him , Revenge is come to join with him ,
+And work confusion on his enemies .
+
+Who doth molest my contemplation ?
+Is it your trick to make me ope the door ,
+That so my sad decrees may fly away ,
+And all my study be to no effect ?
+You are deceiv'd ; for what I mean to do ,
+See here , in bloody lines I have set down ;
+And what is written shall be executed .
+
+Titus , I am come to talk with thee .
+
+No , not a word ; how can I grace my talk ,
+Wanting a hand to give it action ?
+Thou hast the odds of me ; therefore no more .
+
+If thou didst know me , thou wouldst talk with me .
+
+I am not mad ; I know thee well enough :
+Witness this wretched stump , witness these crimson lines ;
+Witness these trenches made by grief and care ;
+Witness the tiring day and heavy night ;
+Witness all sorrow , that I know thee well
+For our proud empress , mighty Tamora .
+Is not thy coming for my other hand ?
+
+Know , thou sad man , I am not Tamora ;
+She is thy enemy , and I thy friend :
+I am Revenge , sent from the infernal kingdom ,
+To ease the gnawing vulture of thy mind ,
+By working wreakful vengeance on thy foes .
+Come down , and welcome me to this world's light ;
+Confer with me of murder and of death .
+There's not a hollow cave or lurking-place ,
+No vast obscurity or misty vale ,
+Where bloody murder or detested rape
+Can couch for fear , but I will find them out ;
+And in their ears tell them my dreadful name ,
+Revenge , which makes the foul offender quake .
+
+Art thou Revenge ? and art thou sent to me ,
+To be a torment to mine enemies ?
+
+I am ; therefore come down , and welcome me .
+
+Do me some service ere I come to thee .
+Lo , by thy side where Rape and Murder stands ;
+Now give some surance that thou art Revenge :
+Stab them , or tear them on thy chariot-wheels ,
+And then I'll come and be thy waggoner ,
+And whirl along with thee about the globe .
+Provide two proper palfreys , black as jet ,
+To hale thy vengeful waggon swift away ,
+And find out murderers in their guilty caves :
+And when thy car is loaden with their heads ,
+I will dismount , and by the waggon-wheel
+Trot like a servile footman all day long ,
+Even from Hyperion's rising in the east
+Until his very downfall in the sea :
+And day by day I'll do this heavy task ,
+So thou destroy Rapine and Murder there .
+
+These are my ministers , and come with me .
+
+Are these thy ministers ? what are they call'd ?
+
+Rapine and Murder ; therefore called so ,
+Cause they take vengeance of such kind of men .
+
+Good Lord , how like the empress' sons they are ,
+And you the empress ! but we worldly men
+Have miserable , mad , mistaking eyes .
+O sweet Revenge ! now do I come to thee ;
+And , if one arm's embracement will content thee ,
+I will embrace thee in it by and by .
+
+
+This closing with him fits his lunacy .
+Whate'er I forge to feed his brain-sick fits ,
+Do you uphold and maintain in your speeches ,
+For now he firmly takes me for Revenge ;
+And , being credulous in this mad thought ,
+I'll make him send for Lucius his son ;
+And , whilst I at a banquet hold him sure ,
+I'll find some cunning practice out of hand
+To scatter and disperse the giddy Goths ,
+Or , at the least , make them his enemies .
+See , here he comes , and I must ply my theme .
+
+
+Long have I been forlorn , and all for thee :
+Welcome , dread Fury , to my woeful house :
+Rapine and Murder , you are welcome too .
+How like the empress and her sons you are !
+Well are you fitted had you but a Moor :
+Could not all hell afford you such a devil ?
+For well I wot the empress never wags
+But in her company there is a Moor ;
+And would you represent our queen aright ,
+It were convenient you had such a devil .
+But welcome as you are . What shall we do ?
+
+What wouldst thou have us do , Andronicus ?
+
+Show me a murderer , I'll deal with him .
+
+Show me a villain that hath done a rape ,
+And I am sent to be reveng'd on him .
+
+Show me a thousand that have done thee wrong ,
+And I will be revenged on them all .
+
+Look round about the wicked streets of Rome ,
+And when thou find'st a man that's like thyself ,
+Good Murder , stab him ; he's a murderer .
+Go thou with him ; and when it is thy hap
+To find another that is like to thee ,
+Good Rapine , stab him ; he's a ravisher .
+Go thou with them ; and in the emperor's court
+There is a queen attended by a Moor ;
+Well mayst thou know her by thy own proportion ,
+For up and down she doth resemble thee :
+I pray thee , do on them some violent death ;
+They have been violent to me and mine .
+
+Well hast thou lesson'd us ; this shall we do .
+But would it please thee , good Andronicus ,
+To send for Lucius , thy thrice-valiant son ,
+Who leads towards Rome a band of war-like Goths ,
+And bid him come and banquet at thy house :
+When he is here , even at thy solemn feast ,
+I will bring in the empress and her sons ,
+The emperor himself , and all thy foes ,
+And at thy mercy shall they stoop and kneel ,
+And on them shalt thou ease thy angry heart .
+What says Andronicus to this device ?
+
+Marcus , my brother ! 'tis sad Titus calls .
+
+
+Go , gentle Marcus , to thy nephew Lucius ;
+Thou shalt inquire him out among the Goths :
+Bid him repair to me , and bring with him
+Some of the chiefest princes of the Goths ;
+Bid him encamp his soldiers where they are :
+Tell him , the emperor and the empress too
+Feast at my house , and he shall feast with them .
+This do thou for my love ; and so let him ,
+
+As he regards his aged father's life .
+
+This will I do , and soon return again .
+
+
+Now will I hence about thy business ,
+And take my ministers along with me .
+
+Nay , nay , let Rape and Murder stay with me ;
+Or else I'll call my brother back again ,
+And cleave to no revenge but Lucius .
+
+What say you , boys ? will you abide with him ,
+Whiles I go tell my lord the emperor
+How I have govern'd our determin'd jest ?
+Yield to his humour , smooth and speak him fair ,
+And tarry with him till I turn again .
+
+I know them all , though they suppose me mad ;
+And will o'er-reach them in their own devices ;
+A pair of cursed hell-hounds and their dam .
+
+Madam , depart at pleasure ; leave us here .
+
+Farewell , Andronicus : Revenge now goes
+To lay a complot to betray thy foes .
+
+
+I know thou dost ; and , sweet Revenge , farewell .
+
+Tell us , old man , how shall we be employ'd ?
+
+Tut ! I have work enough for you to do .
+Publius , come hither , Caius , and Valentine !
+
+
+What is your will ?
+
+Know you these two ?
+
+The empress' sons ,
+I take them , Chiron and Demetrius .
+
+Fie , Publius , fie ! thou art too much deceiv'd ;
+The one is Murder , Rape is the other's name ;
+And therefore bind them , gentle Publius ;
+Caius and Valentine , lay hands on them ;
+Oft have you heard me wish for such an hour ,
+And now I find it : therefore bind them sure ,
+And stop their mouths , if they begin to cry .
+
+
+Villains , forbear ! we are the empress' sons .
+
+And therefore do we what we are commanded .
+Stop close their mouths , let them not speak a word .
+Is he sure bound ? look that you bind them fast .
+
+
+Come , come , Lavinia ; look , thy foes are bound .
+Sirs , stop their mouths , let them not speak to me ,
+But let them hear what fearful words I utter .
+O villains , Chiron and Demetrius !
+Here stands the spring whom you have stain'd with mud ,
+This goodly summer with your winter mix'd .
+You kill'd her husband , and for that vile fault
+Two of her brothers were condemn'd to death ,
+My hand cut off and made a merry jest :
+Both her sweet hands , her tongue , and that more dear
+Than hands or tongue , her spotless chastity ,
+Inhuman traitors , you constrain'd and forc'd .
+What would you say if I should let you speak ?
+Villains ! for shame you could not beg for grace .
+Hark , wretches ! how I mean to martyr you .
+This one hand yet is left to cut your throats ,
+Whilst that Levinia 'tween her stumps doth hold
+The basin that receives your guilty blood .
+You know your mother means to feast with me ,
+And calls herself Revenge , and thinks me mad .
+Hark ! villains , I will grind your bones to dust ,
+And with your blood and it I'll make a paste ;
+And of the paste a coffin I will rear ,
+And make two pasties of your shameful heads ;
+And bid that strumpet , your unhallow'd dam ,
+Like to the earth swallow her own increase .
+This is the feast that I have bid her to ,
+And this the banquet she shall surfeit on ;
+For worse than Philomel you us'd my daughter ,
+And worse than Procne I will be reveng'd .
+And now prepare your throats . Lavinia , come .
+
+Receive the blood : and when that they are dead ,
+Let me go grind their bones to powder small ,
+And with this hateful liquor temper it ;
+And in that paste let their vile heads be bak'd .
+Come , come , be every one officious
+To make this banquet , which I wish may prove
+More stern and bloody than the Centaurs' feast .
+So , now bring them in , for I will play the cook ,
+And see them ready 'gainst their mother comes .
+
+
+Uncle Marcus , since it is my father's mind
+That I repair to Rome , I am content .
+
+And ours with thine , befall what fortune will .
+
+Good uncle , take you in this barbarous Moor ,
+This ravenous tiger , this accursed devil ;
+Let him receive no sustenance , fetter him ,
+Till he be brought unto the empress' face ,
+For testimony of her foul proceedings :
+And see the ambush of our friends be strong ;
+I fear the emperor means no good to us .
+
+Some devil whisper curses in mine ear ,
+And prompt me , that my tongue may utter forth
+The venomous malice of my swelling heart !
+
+Away , inhuman dog ! unhallow'd slave !
+Sirs , help our uncle to convey him in .
+
+The trumpets show the emperor is at hand .
+
+
+What ! hath the firmament more suns than one ?
+
+What boots it thee , to call thyself a sun ?
+
+Rome's emperor , and nephew , break the parle ;
+These quarrels must be quietly debated .
+The feast is ready which the careful Titus
+Hath ordain'd to an honourable end ,
+For peace , for love , for league , and good to Rome :
+Please you , therefore , draw nigh , and take your places .
+
+Marcus , we will .
+
+
+Welcome , my gracious lord ; welcome , dread queen ;
+Welcome , ye war-like Goths ; welcome , Lucius ;
+And welcome , all . Although the cheer be poor ,
+'Twill fill your stomachs ; please you eat of it .
+
+Why art thou thus attir'd , Andronicus ?
+
+Because I would be sure to have all well
+To entertain your highness , and your empress .
+
+We are beholding to you , good Andronicus .
+
+An if your highness knew my heart , you were .
+My lord the emperor , resolve me this :
+Was it well done of rash Virginius
+To slay his daughter with his own right hand ,
+Because she was enforced , stain'd , and deflower'd ?
+
+It was , Andronicus .
+
+Your reason , mighty lord ?
+
+Because the girl should not survive her shame ,
+And by her presence still renew his sorrows .
+
+A reason mighty , strong , and effectual ;
+A pattern , precedent , and lively warrant ,
+For me most wretched , to perform the like .
+Die , die . Lavinia , and thy shame with thee ;
+And with thy shame thy father's sorrow die !
+
+
+What hast thou done , unnatural and unkind ?
+
+Kill'd her , for whom my tears have made me blind .
+I am as woeful as Virginius was ,
+And have a thousand times more cause than he
+To do this outrage : and it is now done .
+
+What ! was she ravish'd ? tell who did the deed .
+
+Will 't please you eat ? will 't please your highness feed ?
+
+Why hast thou slain thine only daughter thus ?
+
+Not I ; 'twas Chiron and Demetrius :
+They ravish'd her , and cut away her tongue :
+And they , 'twas they , that did her all this wrong .
+
+Go fetch them hither to us presently .
+
+Why , there they are both , baked in that pie ;
+Whereof their mother daintily hath fed ,
+Eating the flesh that she herself hath bred .
+'Tis true , 'tis true ; witness my knife's sharp point .
+
+
+Die , frantic wretch , for this accursed deed !
+
+
+Can the son's eye behold his father bleed ?
+There's meed for meed , death for a deadly deed !
+
+You sad-fac'd men , people and sons of Rome ,
+By uproar sever'd , like a flight of fowl
+Scatter'd by winds and high tempestuous gusts ,
+O ! let me teach you how to knit again
+This scatter'd corn into one mutual sheaf ,
+These broken limbs again into one body ,
+Lest Rome herself be bane unto herself ,
+And she whom mighty kingdoms curtsy to ,
+Like a forlorn and desperate castaway ,
+Do shameful execution on herself .
+But if my frosty signs and chaps of age ,
+Grave witnesses of true experience ,
+Cannot induce you to attend my words ,
+
+
+Speak , Rome's dear friend , as erst our ancestor ,
+When with his solemn tongue he did discourse
+To love-sick Dido's sad attending ear
+The story of that baleful burning night
+When subtle Greeks surpris'd King Priam's Troy ;
+Tell us what Sinon hath bewitch'd our ears ,
+Or who hath brought the fatal engine in
+That gives our Troy , our Rome , the civil wound .
+My heart is not compact of flint nor steel ,
+Nor can I utter all our bitter grief ,
+But floods of tears will drown my oratory ,
+And break my very utterance , even in the time
+When it should move you to attend me most ,
+Lending your kind commiseration .
+Here is a captain , let him tell the tale ;
+Your hearts will throb and weep to hear him speak .
+
+Then , noble auditory , be it known to you ,
+That cursed Chiron and Demetrius
+Were they that murdered our emperor's brother ;
+And they it was that ravished our sister .
+For their fell faults our brothers were beheaded ,
+Our father's tears despis'd , and basely cozen'd
+Of that true hand that fought Rome's quarrel out ,
+And sent her enemies unto the grave :
+Lastly , myself unkindly banished ,
+The gates shut on me , and turn'd weeping out ,
+To beg relief among Rome's enemies ;
+Who drown'd their enmity in my true tears ,
+And op'd their arms to embrace me as a friend :
+And I am the turn'd forth , be it known to you ,
+That have preserv'd her welfare in my blood ,
+And from her bosom took the enemy's point ,
+Sheathing the steel in my adventurous body .
+Alas ! you know I am no vaunter , I ;
+My scars can witness , dumb although they are ,
+That my report is just and full of truth .
+But , soft ! methinks I do digress too much ,
+Citing my worthless praise : O ! pardon me ;
+For when no friends are by , men praise themselves .
+
+Now is my turn to speak . Behold this child ;
+Of this was Tamora delivered ,
+The issue of an irreligious Moor ,
+Chief architect and plotter of these woes .
+The villain is alive in Titus' house ,
+Damn'd as he is , to witness this is true .
+Now judge what cause had Titus to revenge
+These wrongs , unspeakable , past patience ,
+Or more than any living man could bear .
+Now you have heard the truth , what say you Romans ?
+Have we done aught amiss , show us wherein ,
+And , from the place where you behold us now ,
+The poor remainder of Andronici
+Will , hand in hand , all headlong cast us down ,
+And on the ragged stones beat forth our brains ,
+And make a mutual closure of our house .
+Speak , Romans , speak ! and if you say we shall ,
+Lo ! hand in hand , Lucius and I will fall .
+
+Come , come , thou reverend man of Rome ,
+And bring our emperor gently in thy hand ,
+Lucius , our emperor ; for well I know
+The common voice do cry it shall be so .
+
+Lucius , all hail ! Rome's royal emperor !
+
+Go , go into old Titus' sorrowful house ,
+And hither , hale that misbelieving Moor ,
+To be adjudg'd some direful slaughtering death ,
+As punishment for his most wicked life .
+
+Lucius , all hail ! Rome's gracious governor !
+
+Thanks , gentle Romans : may I govern so ,
+To heal Rome's harms , and wipe away her woe !
+But , gentle people , give me aim awhile ,
+For nature puts me to a heavy task .
+Stand all aloof ; but , uncle , draw you near ,
+To shed obsequious tears upon this trunk .
+O ! take this warm kiss on thy pale cold lips ,
+
+These sorrowful drops upon thy blood-stain'd face ,
+The last true duties of thy noble son !
+
+Tear for tear , and loving kiss for kiss ,
+Thy brother Marcus tenders on thy lips :
+O ! were the sum of these that I should pay
+Countless and infinite , yet would I pay them .
+
+Come hither , boy ; come , come , and learn of us
+To melt in showers : thy grandsire lov'd thee well :
+Many a time he danc'd thee on his knee ,
+Sung thee asleep , his loving breast thy pillow ;
+Many a matter hath he told to thee ,
+Meet and agreeing with thine infancy ;
+In that respect , then , like a loving child ,
+Shed yet some small drops from thy tender spring ,
+Because kind nature doth require it so :
+Friends should associate friends in grief and woe .
+Bid him farewell ; commit him to the grave ;
+Do him that kindness , and take leave of him .
+
+O grandsire , grandsire ! even with all my heart
+Would I were dead , so you did live again .
+O Lord ! I cannot speak to him for weeping ;
+My tears will choke me if I ope my mouth .
+
+
+You sad Andronici , have done with woes :
+Give sentence on this execrable wretch ,
+That hath been breeder of these dire events .
+
+Set him breast-deep in earth , and famish him ;
+There let him stand , and rave , and cry for food :
+If any one relieves or pities him ,
+For the offence he dies . This is our doom :
+Some stay to see him fasten'd in the earth .
+
+O ! why should wrath be mute , and fury dumb ?
+I am no baby , I , that with base prayers
+I should repent the evils I have done .
+Ten thousand worse than ever yet I did
+Would I perform , if I might have my will :
+If one good deed in all my life I did ,
+I do repent it from my very soul .
+
+Some loving friends convey the emperor hence ,
+And give him burial in his father's grave .
+My father and Lavinia shall forthwith
+Be closed in our household's monument .
+As for that heinous tiger , Tamora ,
+No funeral rite , nor man in mournful weeds ,
+No mournful bell shall ring her burial ;
+But throw her forth to beasts and birds of prey .
+Her life was beast-like , and devoid of pity ;
+And , being so , shall have like want of pity .
+See justice done on Aaron , that damn'd Moor ,
+By whom our heavy haps had their beginning :
+Then , afterwards , to order well the state ,
+That like events may ne'er it ruinate .
+
--- /dev/null
+THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES\r
+\r
+by\r
+\r
+SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+ I . A Scandal in Bohemia\r
+ II . The Red - headed League\r
+ III . A Case of Identity\r
+ IV . The Boscombe Valley Mystery\r
+ V . The Five Orange Pips\r
+ VI . The Man with the Twisted Lip\r
+ VII . The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle\r
+VIII . The Adventure of the Speckled Band\r
+ IX . The Adventure of the Engineer's Thumb\r
+ X . The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor\r
+ XI . The Adventure of the Beryl Coronet\r
+ XII . The Adventure of the Copper Beeches\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+ADVENTURE I . A SCANDAL IN BOHEMIA\r
+\r
+I .\r
+\r
+To Sherlock Holmes she is always THE woman . I have seldom heard\r
+him mention her under any other name . In his eyes she eclipses\r
+and predominates the whole of her sex . It was not that he felt\r
+any emotion akin to love for Irene Adler . All emotions , and that\r
+one particularly , were abhorrent to his cold , precise but\r
+admirably balanced mind . He was , I take it , the most perfect\r
+reasoning and observing machine that the world has seen , but as a\r
+lover he would have placed himself in a false position . He never\r
+spoke of the softer passions , save with a gibe and a sneer . They\r
+were admirable things for the observer - excellent for drawing the\r
+veil from men's motives and actions . But for the trained reasoner\r
+to admit such intrusions into his own delicate and finely\r
+adjusted temperament was to introduce a distracting factor which\r
+might throw a doubt upon all his mental results . Grit in a\r
+sensitive instrument , or a crack in one of his own high - power\r
+lenses , would not be more disturbing than a strong emotion in a\r
+nature such as his . And yet there was but one woman to him , and\r
+that woman was the late Irene Adler , of dubious and questionable\r
+memory .\r
+\r
+I had seen little of Holmes lately . My marriage had drifted us\r
+away from each other . My own complete happiness , and the\r
+home - centred interests which rise up around the man who first\r
+finds himself master of his own establishment , were sufficient to\r
+absorb all my attention , while Holmes , who loathed every form of\r
+society with his whole Bohemian soul , remained in our lodgings in\r
+Baker Street , buried among his old books , and alternating from\r
+week to week between cocaine and ambition , the drowsiness of the\r
+drug , and the fierce energy of his own keen nature . He was still ,\r
+as ever , deeply attracted by the study of crime , and occupied his\r
+immense faculties and extraordinary powers of observation in\r
+following out those clues , and clearing up those mysteries which\r
+had been abandoned as hopeless by the official police . From time\r
+to time I heard some vague account of his doings : of his summons\r
+to Odessa in the case of the Trepoff murder , of his clearing up\r
+of the singular tragedy of the Atkinson brothers at Trincomalee ,\r
+and finally of the mission which he had accomplished so\r
+delicately and successfully for the reigning family of Holland .\r
+Beyond these signs of his activity , however , which I merely\r
+shared with all the readers of the daily press , I knew little of\r
+my former friend and companion .\r
+\r
+One night - it was on the twentieth of March , 1888 - I was\r
+returning from a journey to a patient ( for I had now returned to\r
+civil practice , when my way led me through Baker Street . As I\r
+passed the well - remembered door , which must always be associated\r
+in my mind with my wooing , and with the dark incidents of the\r
+Study in Scarlet , I was seized with a keen desire to see Holmes\r
+again , and to know how he was employing his extraordinary powers .\r
+His rooms were brilliantly lit , and , even as I looked up , I saw\r
+his tall , spare figure pass twice in a dark silhouette against\r
+the blind . He was pacing the room swiftly , eagerly , with his head\r
+sunk upon his chest and his hands clasped behind him . To me , who\r
+knew his every mood and habit , his attitude and manner told their\r
+own story . He was at work again . He had risen out of his\r
+drug - created dreams and was hot upon the scent of some new\r
+problem . I rang the bell and was shown up to the chamber which\r
+had formerly been in part my own .\r
+\r
+His manner was not effusive . It seldom was ; but he was glad , I\r
+think , to see me . With hardly a word spoken , but with a kindly\r
+eye , he waved me to an armchair , threw across his case of cigars ,\r
+and indicated a spirit case and a gasogene in the corner . Then he\r
+stood before the fire and looked me over in his singular\r
+introspective fashion .\r
+\r
+" Wedlock suits you " he remarked . " I think , Watson , that you have\r
+put on seven and a half pounds since I saw you "\r
+\r
+" Seven " I answered .\r
+\r
+" Indeed , I should have thought a little more . Just a trifle more ,\r
+I fancy , Watson . And in practice again , I observe . You did not\r
+tell me that you intended to go into harness "\r
+\r
+" Then , how do you know "\r
+\r
+" I see it , I deduce it . How do I know that you have been getting\r
+yourself very wet lately , and that you have a most clumsy and\r
+careless servant girl "\r
+\r
+" My dear Holmes " said I , " this is too much . You would certainly\r
+have been burned , had you lived a few centuries ago . It is true\r
+that I had a country walk on Thursday and came home in a dreadful\r
+mess , but as I have changed my clothes I can't imagine how you\r
+deduce it . As to Mary Jane , she is incorrigible , and my wife has\r
+given her notice , but there , again , I fail to see how you work it\r
+out "\r
+\r
+He chuckled to himself and rubbed his long , nervous hands\r
+together .\r
+\r
+" It is simplicity itself " said he ; " my eyes tell me that on the\r
+inside of your left shoe , just where the firelight strikes it ,\r
+the leather is scored by six almost parallel cuts . Obviously they\r
+have been caused by someone who has very carelessly scraped round\r
+the edges of the sole in order to remove crusted mud from it .\r
+Hence , you see , my double deduction that you had been out in vile\r
+weather , and that you had a particularly malignant boot - slitting\r
+specimen of the London slavey . As to your practice , if a\r
+gentleman walks into my rooms smelling of iodoform , with a black\r
+mark of nitrate of silver upon his right forefinger , and a bulge\r
+on the right side of his top - hat to show where he has secreted\r
+his stethoscope , I must be dull , indeed , if I do not pronounce\r
+him to be an active member of the medical profession "\r
+\r
+I could not help laughing at the ease with which he explained his\r
+process of deduction . " When I hear you give your reasons " I\r
+remarked , " the thing always appears to me to be so ridiculously\r
+simple that I could easily do it myself , though at each\r
+successive instance of your reasoning I am baffled until you\r
+explain your process . And yet I believe that my eyes are as good\r
+as yours "\r
+\r
+" Quite so " he answered , lighting a cigarette , and throwing\r
+himself down into an armchair . " You see , but you do not observe .\r
+The distinction is clear . For example , you have frequently seen\r
+the steps which lead up from the hall to this room "\r
+\r
+" Frequently "\r
+\r
+" How often "\r
+\r
+" Well , some hundreds of times "\r
+\r
+" Then how many are there "\r
+\r
+" How many ? I don't know "\r
+\r
+" Quite so ! You have not observed . And yet you have seen . That is\r
+just my point . Now , I know that there are seventeen steps ,\r
+because I have both seen and observed . By - the - way , since you are\r
+interested in these little problems , and since you are good\r
+enough to chronicle one or two of my trifling experiences , you\r
+may be interested in this " He threw over a sheet of thick ,\r
+pink - tinted note - paper which had been lying open upon the table .\r
+" It came by the last post " said he . " Read it aloud "\r
+\r
+The note was undated , and without either signature or address .\r
+\r
+" There will call upon you to - night , at a quarter to eight\r
+o'clock " it said , " a gentleman who desires to consult you upon a\r
+matter of the very deepest moment . Your recent services to one of\r
+the royal houses of Europe have shown that you are one who may\r
+safely be trusted with matters which are of an importance which\r
+can hardly be exaggerated . This account of you we have from all\r
+quarters received . Be in your chamber then at that hour , and do\r
+not take it amiss if your visitor wear a mask "\r
+\r
+" This is indeed a mystery " I remarked . " What do you imagine that\r
+it means "\r
+\r
+" I have no data yet . It is a capital mistake to theorize before\r
+one has data . Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit\r
+theories , instead of theories to suit facts . But the note itself .\r
+What do you deduce from it "\r
+\r
+I carefully examined the writing , and the paper upon which it was\r
+written .\r
+\r
+" The man who wrote it was presumably well to do " I remarked ,\r
+endeavouring to imitate my companion's processes . " Such paper\r
+could not be bought under half a crown a packet . It is peculiarly\r
+strong and stiff "\r
+\r
+" Peculiar - that is the very word " said Holmes . " It is not an\r
+English paper at all . Hold it up to the light "\r
+\r
+I did so , and saw a large " E " with a small " g " a " P " and a\r
+large " G " with a small " t " woven into the texture of the paper .\r
+\r
+" What do you make of that " asked Holmes .\r
+\r
+" The name of the maker , no doubt ; or his monogram , rather "\r
+\r
+" Not at all . The ' G ' with the small ' t ' stands for\r
+' Gesellschaft ' which is the German for ' Company ' It is a\r
+customary contraction like our ' Co ' ' P ' of course , stands for\r
+' Papier ' Now for the ' Eg ' Let us glance at our Continental\r
+Gazetteer " He took down a heavy brown volume from his shelves .\r
+" Eglow , Eglonitz - here we are , Egria . It is in a German - speaking\r
+country - in Bohemia , not far from Carlsbad . ' Remarkable as being\r
+the scene of the death of Wallenstein , and for its numerous\r
+glass - factories and paper - mills ' Ha , ha , my boy , what do you\r
+make of that " His eyes sparkled , and he sent up a great blue\r
+triumphant cloud from his cigarette .\r
+\r
+" The paper was made in Bohemia " I said .\r
+\r
+" Precisely . And the man who wrote the note is a German . Do you\r
+note the peculiar construction of the sentence - ' This account of\r
+you we have from all quarters received ' A Frenchman or Russian\r
+could not have written that . It is the German who is so\r
+uncourteous to his verbs . It only remains , therefore , to discover\r
+what is wanted by this German who writes upon Bohemian paper and\r
+prefers wearing a mask to showing his face . And here he comes , if\r
+I am not mistaken , to resolve all our doubts "\r
+\r
+As he spoke there was the sharp sound of horses ' hoofs and\r
+grating wheels against the curb , followed by a sharp pull at the\r
+bell . Holmes whistled .\r
+\r
+" A pair , by the sound " said he . " Yes " he continued , glancing\r
+out of the window . " A nice little brougham and a pair of\r
+beauties . A hundred and fifty guineas apiece . There's money in\r
+this case , Watson , if there is nothing else "\r
+\r
+" I think that I had better go , Holmes "\r
+\r
+" Not a bit , Doctor . Stay where you are . I am lost without my\r
+Boswell . And this promises to be interesting . It would be a pity\r
+to miss it "\r
+\r
+" But your client -"\r
+\r
+" Never mind him . I may want your help , and so may he . Here he\r
+comes . Sit down in that armchair , Doctor , and give us your best\r
+attention "\r
+\r
+A slow and heavy step , which had been heard upon the stairs and\r
+in the passage , paused immediately outside the door . Then there\r
+was a loud and authoritative tap .\r
+\r
+" Come in " said Holmes .\r
+\r
+A man entered who could hardly have been less than six feet six\r
+inches in height , with the chest and limbs of a Hercules . His\r
+dress was rich with a richness which would , in England , be looked\r
+upon as akin to bad taste . Heavy bands of astrakhan were slashed\r
+across the sleeves and fronts of his double - breasted coat , while\r
+the deep blue cloak which was thrown over his shoulders was lined\r
+with flame - coloured silk and secured at the neck with a brooch\r
+which consisted of a single flaming beryl . Boots which extended\r
+halfway up his calves , and which were trimmed at the tops with\r
+rich brown fur , completed the impression of barbaric opulence\r
+which was suggested by his whole appearance . He carried a\r
+broad - brimmed hat in his hand , while he wore across the upper\r
+part of his face , extending down past the cheekbones , a black\r
+vizard mask , which he had apparently adjusted that very moment ,\r
+for his hand was still raised to it as he entered . From the lower\r
+part of the face he appeared to be a man of strong character ,\r
+with a thick , hanging lip , and a long , straight chin suggestive\r
+of resolution pushed to the length of obstinacy .\r
+\r
+" You had my note " he asked with a deep harsh voice and a\r
+strongly marked German accent . " I told you that I would call " He\r
+looked from one to the other of us , as if uncertain which to\r
+address .\r
+\r
+" Pray take a seat " said Holmes . " This is my friend and\r
+colleague , Dr . Watson , who is occasionally good enough to help me\r
+in my cases . Whom have I the honour to address "\r
+\r
+" You may address me as the Count Von Kramm , a Bohemian nobleman .\r
+I understand that this gentleman , your friend , is a man of honour\r
+and discretion , whom I may trust with a matter of the most\r
+extreme importance . If not , I should much prefer to communicate\r
+with you alone "\r
+\r
+I rose to go , but Holmes caught me by the wrist and pushed me\r
+back into my chair . " It is both , or none " said he . " You may say\r
+before this gentleman anything which you may say to me "\r
+\r
+The Count shrugged his broad shoulders . " Then I must begin " said\r
+he , " by binding you both to absolute secrecy for two years ; at\r
+the end of that time the matter will be of no importance . At\r
+present it is not too much to say that it is of such weight it\r
+may have an influence upon European history "\r
+\r
+" I promise " said Holmes .\r
+\r
+" And I "\r
+\r
+" You will excuse this mask " continued our strange visitor . " The\r
+august person who employs me wishes his agent to be unknown to\r
+you , and I may confess at once that the title by which I have\r
+just called myself is not exactly my own "\r
+\r
+" I was aware of it " said Holmes dryly .\r
+\r
+" The circumstances are of great delicacy , and every precaution\r
+has to be taken to quench what might grow to be an immense\r
+scandal and seriously compromise one of the reigning families of\r
+Europe . To speak plainly , the matter implicates the great House\r
+of Ormstein , hereditary kings of Bohemia "\r
+\r
+" I was also aware of that " murmured Holmes , settling himself\r
+down in his armchair and closing his eyes .\r
+\r
+Our visitor glanced with some apparent surprise at the languid ,\r
+lounging figure of the man who had been no doubt depicted to him\r
+as the most incisive reasoner and most energetic agent in Europe .\r
+Holmes slowly reopened his eyes and looked impatiently at his\r
+gigantic client .\r
+\r
+" If your Majesty would condescend to state your case " he\r
+remarked , " I should be better able to advise you "\r
+\r
+The man sprang from his chair and paced up and down the room in\r
+uncontrollable agitation . Then , with a gesture of desperation , he\r
+tore the mask from his face and hurled it upon the ground . " You\r
+are right " he cried ; " I am the King . Why should I attempt to\r
+conceal it "\r
+\r
+" Why , indeed " murmured Holmes . " Your Majesty had not spoken\r
+before I was aware that I was addressing Wilhelm Gottsreich\r
+Sigismond von Ormstein , Grand Duke of Cassel - Felstein , and\r
+hereditary King of Bohemia "\r
+\r
+" But you can understand " said our strange visitor , sitting down\r
+once more and passing his hand over his high white forehead , " you\r
+can understand that I am not accustomed to doing such business in\r
+my own person . Yet the matter was so delicate that I could not\r
+confide it to an agent without putting myself in his power . I\r
+have come incognito from Prague for the purpose of consulting\r
+you "\r
+\r
+" Then , pray consult " said Holmes , shutting his eyes once more .\r
+\r
+" The facts are briefly these : Some five years ago , during a\r
+lengthy visit to Warsaw , I made the acquaintance of the well - known\r
+adventuress , Irene Adler . The name is no doubt familiar to you "\r
+\r
+" Kindly look her up in my index , Doctor " murmured Holmes without\r
+opening his eyes . For many years he had adopted a system of\r
+docketing all paragraphs concerning men and things , so that it\r
+was difficult to name a subject or a person on which he could not\r
+at once furnish information . In this case I found her biography\r
+sandwiched in between that of a Hebrew rabbi and that of a\r
+staff - commander who had written a monograph upon the deep - sea\r
+fishes .\r
+\r
+" Let me see " said Holmes . " Hum ! Born in New Jersey in the year\r
+1858 . Contralto - hum ! La Scala , hum ! Prima donna Imperial Opera\r
+of Warsaw - yes ! Retired from operatic stage - ha ! Living in\r
+London - quite so ! Your Majesty , as I understand , became entangled\r
+with this young person , wrote her some compromising letters , and\r
+is now desirous of getting those letters back "\r
+\r
+" Precisely so . But how -"\r
+\r
+" Was there a secret marriage "\r
+\r
+" None "\r
+\r
+" No legal papers or certificates "\r
+\r
+" None "\r
+\r
+" Then I fail to follow your Majesty . If this young person should\r
+produce her letters for blackmailing or other purposes , how is\r
+she to prove their authenticity "\r
+\r
+" There is the writing "\r
+\r
+" Pooh , pooh ! Forgery "\r
+\r
+" My private note - paper "\r
+\r
+" Stolen "\r
+\r
+" My own seal "\r
+\r
+" Imitated "\r
+\r
+" My photograph "\r
+\r
+" Bought "\r
+\r
+" We were both in the photograph "\r
+\r
+" Oh , dear ! That is very bad ! Your Majesty has indeed committed an\r
+indiscretion "\r
+\r
+" I was mad - insane "\r
+\r
+" You have compromised yourself seriously "\r
+\r
+" I was only Crown Prince then . I was young . I am but thirty now "\r
+\r
+" It must be recovered "\r
+\r
+" We have tried and failed "\r
+\r
+" Your Majesty must pay . It must be bought "\r
+\r
+" She will not sell "\r
+\r
+" Stolen , then "\r
+\r
+" Five attempts have been made . Twice burglars in my pay ransacked\r
+her house . Once we diverted her luggage when she travelled . Twice\r
+she has been waylaid . There has been no result "\r
+\r
+" No sign of it "\r
+\r
+" Absolutely none "\r
+\r
+Holmes laughed . " It is quite a pretty little problem " said he .\r
+\r
+" But a very serious one to me " returned the King reproachfully .\r
+\r
+" Very , indeed . And what does she propose to do with the\r
+photograph "\r
+\r
+" To ruin me "\r
+\r
+" But how "\r
+\r
+" I am about to be married "\r
+\r
+" So I have heard "\r
+\r
+" To Clotilde Lothman von Saxe - Meningen , second daughter of the\r
+King of Scandinavia . You may know the strict principles of her\r
+family . She is herself the very soul of delicacy . A shadow of a\r
+doubt as to my conduct would bring the matter to an end "\r
+\r
+" And Irene Adler "\r
+\r
+" Threatens to send them the photograph . And she will do it . I\r
+know that she will do it . You do not know her , but she has a soul\r
+of steel . She has the face of the most beautiful of women , and\r
+the mind of the most resolute of men . Rather than I should marry\r
+another woman , there are no lengths to which she would not\r
+go - none "\r
+\r
+" You are sure that she has not sent it yet "\r
+\r
+" I am sure "\r
+\r
+" And why "\r
+\r
+" Because she has said that she would send it on the day when the\r
+betrothal was publicly proclaimed . That will be next Monday "\r
+\r
+" Oh , then we have three days yet " said Holmes with a yawn . " That\r
+is very fortunate , as I have one or two matters of importance to\r
+look into just at present . Your Majesty will , of course , stay in\r
+London for the present "\r
+\r
+" Certainly . You will find me at the Langham under the name of the\r
+Count Von Kramm "\r
+\r
+" Then I shall drop you a line to let you know how we progress "\r
+\r
+" Pray do so . I shall be all anxiety "\r
+\r
+" Then , as to money "\r
+\r
+" You have carte blanche "\r
+\r
+" Absolutely "\r
+\r
+" I tell you that I would give one of the provinces of my kingdom\r
+to have that photograph "\r
+\r
+" And for present expenses "\r
+\r
+The King took a heavy chamois leather bag from under his cloak\r
+and laid it on the table .\r
+\r
+" There are three hundred pounds in gold and seven hundred in\r
+notes " he said .\r
+\r
+Holmes scribbled a receipt upon a sheet of his note - book and\r
+handed it to him .\r
+\r
+" And Mademoiselle's address " he asked .\r
+\r
+" Is Briony Lodge , Serpentine Avenue , St . John's Wood "\r
+\r
+Holmes took a note of it . " One other question " said he . " Was the\r
+photograph a cabinet "\r
+\r
+" It was "\r
+\r
+" Then , good - night , your Majesty , and I trust that we shall soon\r
+have some good news for you . And good - night , Watson " he added ,\r
+as the wheels of the royal brougham rolled down the street . " If\r
+you will be good enough to call to - morrow afternoon at three\r
+o'clock I should like to chat this little matter over with you "\r
+\r
+\r
+II .\r
+\r
+At three o'clock precisely I was at Baker Street , but Holmes had\r
+not yet returned . The landlady informed me that he had left the\r
+house shortly after eight o'clock in the morning . I sat down\r
+beside the fire , however , with the intention of awaiting him ,\r
+however long he might be . I was already deeply interested in his\r
+inquiry , for , though it was surrounded by none of the grim and\r
+strange features which were associated with the two crimes which\r
+I have already recorded , still , the nature of the case and the\r
+exalted station of his client gave it a character of its own .\r
+Indeed , apart from the nature of the investigation which my\r
+friend had on hand , there was something in his masterly grasp of\r
+a situation , and his keen , incisive reasoning , which made it a\r
+pleasure to me to study his system of work , and to follow the\r
+quick , subtle methods by which he disentangled the most\r
+inextricable mysteries . So accustomed was I to his invariable\r
+success that the very possibility of his failing had ceased to\r
+enter into my head .\r
+\r
+It was close upon four before the door opened , and a\r
+drunken - looking groom , ill - kempt and side - whiskered , with an\r
+inflamed face and disreputable clothes , walked into the room .\r
+Accustomed as I was to my friend's amazing powers in the use of\r
+disguises , I had to look three times before I was certain that it\r
+was indeed he . With a nod he vanished into the bedroom , whence he\r
+emerged in five minutes tweed - suited and respectable , as of old .\r
+Putting his hands into his pockets , he stretched out his legs in\r
+front of the fire and laughed heartily for some minutes .\r
+\r
+" Well , really " he cried , and then he choked and laughed again\r
+until he was obliged to lie back , limp and helpless , in the\r
+chair .\r
+\r
+" What is it "\r
+\r
+" It's quite too funny . I am sure you could never guess how I\r
+employed my morning , or what I ended by doing "\r
+\r
+" I can't imagine . I suppose that you have been watching the\r
+habits , and perhaps the house , of Miss Irene Adler "\r
+\r
+" Quite so ; but the sequel was rather unusual . I will tell you ,\r
+however . I left the house a little after eight o'clock this\r
+morning in the character of a groom out of work . There is a\r
+wonderful sympathy and freemasonry among horsey men . Be one of\r
+them , and you will know all that there is to know . I soon found\r
+Briony Lodge . It is a bijou villa , with a garden at the back , but\r
+built out in front right up to the road , two stories . Chubb lock\r
+to the door . Large sitting - room on the right side , well\r
+furnished , with long windows almost to the floor , and those\r
+preposterous English window fasteners which a child could open .\r
+Behind there was nothing remarkable , save that the passage window\r
+could be reached from the top of the coach - house . I walked round\r
+it and examined it closely from every point of view , but without\r
+noting anything else of interest .\r
+\r
+" I then lounged down the street and found , as I expected , that\r
+there was a mews in a lane which runs down by one wall of the\r
+garden . I lent the ostlers a hand in rubbing down their horses ,\r
+and received in exchange twopence , a glass of half and half , two\r
+fills of shag tobacco , and as much information as I could desire\r
+about Miss Adler , to say nothing of half a dozen other people in\r
+the neighbourhood in whom I was not in the least interested , but\r
+whose biographies I was compelled to listen to "\r
+\r
+" And what of Irene Adler " I asked .\r
+\r
+" Oh , she has turned all the men's heads down in that part . She is\r
+the daintiest thing under a bonnet on this planet . So say the\r
+Serpentine - mews , to a man . She lives quietly , sings at concerts ,\r
+drives out at five every day , and returns at seven sharp for\r
+dinner . Seldom goes out at other times , except when she sings .\r
+Has only one male visitor , but a good deal of him . He is dark ,\r
+handsome , and dashing , never calls less than once a day , and\r
+often twice . He is a Mr . Godfrey Norton , of the Inner Temple . See\r
+the advantages of a cabman as a confidant . They had driven him\r
+home a dozen times from Serpentine - mews , and knew all about him .\r
+When I had listened to all they had to tell , I began to walk up\r
+and down near Briony Lodge once more , and to think over my plan\r
+of campaign .\r
+\r
+" This Godfrey Norton was evidently an important factor in the\r
+matter . He was a lawyer . That sounded ominous . What was the\r
+relation between them , and what the object of his repeated\r
+visits ? Was she his client , his friend , or his mistress ? If the\r
+former , she had probably transferred the photograph to his\r
+keeping . If the latter , it was less likely . On the issue of this\r
+question depended whether I should continue my work at Briony\r
+Lodge , or turn my attention to the gentleman's chambers in the\r
+Temple . It was a delicate point , and it widened the field of my\r
+inquiry . I fear that I bore you with these details , but I have to\r
+let you see my little difficulties , if you are to understand the\r
+situation "\r
+\r
+" I am following you closely " I answered .\r
+\r
+" I was still balancing the matter in my mind when a hansom cab\r
+drove up to Briony Lodge , and a gentleman sprang out . He was a\r
+remarkably handsome man , dark , aquiline , and moustached - evidently\r
+the man of whom I had heard . He appeared to be in a\r
+great hurry , shouted to the cabman to wait , and brushed past the\r
+maid who opened the door with the air of a man who was thoroughly\r
+at home .\r
+\r
+" He was in the house about half an hour , and I could catch\r
+glimpses of him in the windows of the sitting - room , pacing up and\r
+down , talking excitedly , and waving his arms . Of her I could see\r
+nothing . Presently he emerged , looking even more flurried than\r
+before . As he stepped up to the cab , he pulled a gold watch from\r
+his pocket and looked at it earnestly , ' Drive like the devil ' he\r
+shouted , ' first to Gross & Hankey's in Regent Street , and then to\r
+the Church of St . Monica in the Edgeware Road . Half a guinea if\r
+you do it in twenty minutes '\r
+\r
+" Away they went , and I was just wondering whether I should not do\r
+well to follow them when up the lane came a neat little landau ,\r
+the coachman with his coat only half - buttoned , and his tie under\r
+his ear , while all the tags of his harness were sticking out of\r
+the buckles . It hadn't pulled up before she shot out of the hall\r
+door and into it . I only caught a glimpse of her at the moment ,\r
+but she was a lovely woman , with a face that a man might die for .\r
+\r
+ ' The Church of St . Monica , John ' she cried , ' and half a\r
+sovereign if you reach it in twenty minutes '\r
+\r
+" This was quite too good to lose , Watson . I was just balancing\r
+whether I should run for it , or whether I should perch behind her\r
+landau when a cab came through the street . The driver looked\r
+twice at such a shabby fare , but I jumped in before he could\r
+object . ' The Church of St . Monica ' said I , ' and half a sovereign\r
+if you reach it in twenty minutes ' It was twenty - five minutes to\r
+twelve , and of course it was clear enough what was in the wind .\r
+\r
+" My cabby drove fast . I don't think I ever drove faster , but the\r
+others were there before us . The cab and the landau with their\r
+steaming horses were in front of the door when I arrived . I paid\r
+the man and hurried into the church . There was not a soul there\r
+save the two whom I had followed and a surpliced clergyman , who\r
+seemed to be expostulating with them . They were all three\r
+standing in a knot in front of the altar . I lounged up the side\r
+aisle like any other idler who has dropped into a church .\r
+Suddenly , to my surprise , the three at the altar faced round to\r
+me , and Godfrey Norton came running as hard as he could towards\r
+me .\r
+\r
+ ' Thank God ' he cried . ' You ' ll do . Come ! Come '\r
+\r
+ ' What then ' I asked .\r
+\r
+ ' Come , man , come , only three minutes , or it won't be legal '\r
+\r
+" I was half - dragged up to the altar , and before I knew where I was\r
+I found myself mumbling responses which were whispered in my ear ,\r
+and vouching for things of which I knew nothing , and generally\r
+assisting in the secure tying up of Irene Adler , spinster , to\r
+Godfrey Norton , bachelor . It was all done in an instant , and\r
+there was the gentleman thanking me on the one side and the lady\r
+on the other , while the clergyman beamed on me in front . It was\r
+the most preposterous position in which I ever found myself in my\r
+life , and it was the thought of it that started me laughing just\r
+now . It seems that there had been some informality about their\r
+license , that the clergyman absolutely refused to marry them\r
+without a witness of some sort , and that my lucky appearance\r
+saved the bridegroom from having to sally out into the streets in\r
+search of a best man . The bride gave me a sovereign , and I mean\r
+to wear it on my watch - chain in memory of the occasion "\r
+\r
+" This is a very unexpected turn of affairs " said I ; " and what\r
+then "\r
+\r
+" Well , I found my plans very seriously menaced . It looked as if\r
+the pair might take an immediate departure , and so necessitate\r
+very prompt and energetic measures on my part . At the church\r
+door , however , they separated , he driving back to the Temple , and\r
+she to her own house . ' I shall drive out in the park at five as\r
+usual ' she said as she left him . I heard no more . They drove\r
+away in different directions , and I went off to make my own\r
+arrangements "\r
+\r
+" Which are "\r
+\r
+" Some cold beef and a glass of beer " he answered , ringing the\r
+bell . " I have been too busy to think of food , and I am likely to\r
+be busier still this evening . By the way , Doctor , I shall want\r
+your co - operation "\r
+\r
+" I shall be delighted "\r
+\r
+" You don't mind breaking the law "\r
+\r
+" Not in the least "\r
+\r
+" Nor running a chance of arrest "\r
+\r
+" Not in a good cause "\r
+\r
+" Oh , the cause is excellent "\r
+\r
+" Then I am your man "\r
+\r
+" I was sure that I might rely on you "\r
+\r
+" But what is it you wish "\r
+\r
+" When Mrs . Turner has brought in the tray I will make it clear to\r
+you . Now " he said as he turned hungrily on the simple fare that\r
+our landlady had provided , " I must discuss it while I eat , for I\r
+have not much time . It is nearly five now . In two hours we must\r
+be on the scene of action . Miss Irene , or Madame , rather , returns\r
+from her drive at seven . We must be at Briony Lodge to meet her "\r
+\r
+" And what then "\r
+\r
+" You must leave that to me . I have already arranged what is to\r
+occur . There is only one point on which I must insist . You must\r
+not interfere , come what may . You understand "\r
+\r
+" I am to be neutral "\r
+\r
+" To do nothing whatever . There will probably be some small\r
+unpleasantness . Do not join in it . It will end in my being\r
+conveyed into the house . Four or five minutes afterwards the\r
+sitting - room window will open . You are to station yourself close\r
+to that open window "\r
+\r
+" Yes "\r
+\r
+" You are to watch me , for I will be visible to you "\r
+\r
+" Yes "\r
+\r
+" And when I raise my hand - so - you will throw into the room what\r
+I give you to throw , and will , at the same time , raise the cry of\r
+fire . You quite follow me "\r
+\r
+" Entirely "\r
+\r
+" It is nothing very formidable " he said , taking a long cigar - shaped\r
+roll from his pocket . " It is an ordinary plumber's smoke - rocket ,\r
+fitted with a cap at either end to make it self - lighting .\r
+Your task is confined to that . When you raise your cry of fire ,\r
+it will be taken up by quite a number of people . You may then\r
+walk to the end of the street , and I will rejoin you in ten\r
+minutes . I hope that I have made myself clear "\r
+\r
+" I am to remain neutral , to get near the window , to watch you ,\r
+and at the signal to throw in this object , then to raise the cry\r
+of fire , and to wait you at the corner of the street "\r
+\r
+" Precisely "\r
+\r
+" Then you may entirely rely on me "\r
+\r
+" That is excellent . I think , perhaps , it is almost time that I\r
+prepare for the new role I have to play "\r
+\r
+He disappeared into his bedroom and returned in a few minutes in\r
+the character of an amiable and simple - minded Nonconformist\r
+clergyman . His broad black hat , his baggy trousers , his white\r
+tie , his sympathetic smile , and general look of peering and\r
+benevolent curiosity were such as Mr . John Hare alone could have\r
+equalled . It was not merely that Holmes changed his costume . His\r
+expression , his manner , his very soul seemed to vary with every\r
+fresh part that he assumed . The stage lost a fine actor , even as\r
+science lost an acute reasoner , when he became a specialist in\r
+crime .\r
+\r
+It was a quarter past six when we left Baker Street , and it still\r
+wanted ten minutes to the hour when we found ourselves in\r
+Serpentine Avenue . It was already dusk , and the lamps were just\r
+being lighted as we paced up and down in front of Briony Lodge ,\r
+waiting for the coming of its occupant . The house was just such\r
+as I had pictured it from Sherlock Holmes ' succinct description ,\r
+but the locality appeared to be less private than I expected . On\r
+the contrary , for a small street in a quiet neighbourhood , it was\r
+remarkably animated . There was a group of shabbily dressed men\r
+smoking and laughing in a corner , a scissors - grinder with his\r
+wheel , two guardsmen who were flirting with a nurse - girl , and\r
+several well - dressed young men who were lounging up and down with\r
+cigars in their mouths .\r
+\r
+" You see " remarked Holmes , as we paced to and fro in front of\r
+the house , " this marriage rather simplifies matters . The\r
+photograph becomes a double - edged weapon now . The chances are\r
+that she would be as averse to its being seen by Mr . Godfrey\r
+Norton , as our client is to its coming to the eyes of his\r
+princess . Now the question is , Where are we to find the\r
+photograph "\r
+\r
+" Where , indeed "\r
+\r
+" It is most unlikely that she carries it about with her . It is\r
+cabinet size . Too large for easy concealment about a woman's\r
+dress . She knows that the King is capable of having her waylaid\r
+and searched . Two attempts of the sort have already been made . We\r
+may take it , then , that she does not carry it about with her "\r
+\r
+" Where , then "\r
+\r
+" Her banker or her lawyer . There is that double possibility . But\r
+I am inclined to think neither . Women are naturally secretive ,\r
+and they like to do their own secreting . Why should she hand it\r
+over to anyone else ? She could trust her own guardianship , but\r
+she could not tell what indirect or political influence might be\r
+brought to bear upon a business man . Besides , remember that she\r
+had resolved to use it within a few days . It must be where she\r
+can lay her hands upon it . It must be in her own house "\r
+\r
+" But it has twice been burgled "\r
+\r
+" Pshaw ! They did not know how to look "\r
+\r
+" But how will you look "\r
+\r
+" I will not look "\r
+\r
+" What then "\r
+\r
+" I will get her to show me "\r
+\r
+" But she will refuse "\r
+\r
+" She will not be able to . But I hear the rumble of wheels . It is\r
+her carriage . Now carry out my orders to the letter "\r
+\r
+As he spoke the gleam of the side - lights of a carriage came round\r
+the curve of the avenue . It was a smart little landau which\r
+rattled up to the door of Briony Lodge . As it pulled up , one of\r
+the loafing men at the corner dashed forward to open the door in\r
+the hope of earning a copper , but was elbowed away by another\r
+loafer , who had rushed up with the same intention . A fierce\r
+quarrel broke out , which was increased by the two guardsmen , who\r
+took sides with one of the loungers , and by the scissors - grinder ,\r
+who was equally hot upon the other side . A blow was struck , and\r
+in an instant the lady , who had stepped from her carriage , was\r
+the centre of a little knot of flushed and struggling men , who\r
+struck savagely at each other with their fists and sticks . Holmes\r
+dashed into the crowd to protect the lady ; but just as he reached\r
+her he gave a cry and dropped to the ground , with the blood\r
+running freely down his face . At his fall the guardsmen took to\r
+their heels in one direction and the loungers in the other , while\r
+a number of better - dressed people , who had watched the scuffle\r
+without taking part in it , crowded in to help the lady and to\r
+attend to the injured man . Irene Adler , as I will still call her ,\r
+had hurried up the steps ; but she stood at the top with her\r
+superb figure outlined against the lights of the hall , looking\r
+back into the street .\r
+\r
+" Is the poor gentleman much hurt " she asked .\r
+\r
+" He is dead " cried several voices .\r
+\r
+" No , no , there's life in him " shouted another . " But he ' ll be\r
+gone before you can get him to hospital "\r
+\r
+" He's a brave fellow " said a woman . " They would have had the\r
+lady's purse and watch if it hadn't been for him . They were a\r
+gang , and a rough one , too . Ah , he's breathing now "\r
+\r
+" He can't lie in the street . May we bring him in , marm "\r
+\r
+" Surely . Bring him into the sitting - room . There is a comfortable\r
+sofa . This way , please "\r
+\r
+Slowly and solemnly he was borne into Briony Lodge and laid out\r
+in the principal room , while I still observed the proceedings\r
+from my post by the window . The lamps had been lit , but the\r
+blinds had not been drawn , so that I could see Holmes as he lay\r
+upon the couch . I do not know whether he was seized with\r
+compunction at that moment for the part he was playing , but I\r
+know that I never felt more heartily ashamed of myself in my life\r
+than when I saw the beautiful creature against whom I was\r
+conspiring , or the grace and kindliness with which she waited\r
+upon the injured man . And yet it would be the blackest treachery\r
+to Holmes to draw back now from the part which he had intrusted\r
+to me . I hardened my heart , and took the smoke - rocket from under\r
+my ulster . After all , I thought , we are not injuring her . We are\r
+but preventing her from injuring another .\r
+\r
+Holmes had sat up upon the couch , and I saw him motion like a man\r
+who is in need of air . A maid rushed across and threw open the\r
+window . At the same instant I saw him raise his hand and at the\r
+signal I tossed my rocket into the room with a cry of " Fire " The\r
+word was no sooner out of my mouth than the whole crowd of\r
+spectators , well dressed and ill - gentlemen , ostlers , and\r
+servant - maids - joined in a general shriek of " Fire " Thick clouds\r
+of smoke curled through the room and out at the open window . I\r
+caught a glimpse of rushing figures , and a moment later the voice\r
+of Holmes from within assuring them that it was a false alarm .\r
+Slipping through the shouting crowd I made my way to the corner\r
+of the street , and in ten minutes was rejoiced to find my\r
+friend's arm in mine , and to get away from the scene of uproar .\r
+He walked swiftly and in silence for some few minutes until we\r
+had turned down one of the quiet streets which lead towards the\r
+Edgeware Road .\r
+\r
+" You did it very nicely , Doctor " he remarked . " Nothing could\r
+have been better . It is all right "\r
+\r
+" You have the photograph "\r
+\r
+" I know where it is "\r
+\r
+" And how did you find out "\r
+\r
+" She showed me , as I told you she would "\r
+\r
+" I am still in the dark "\r
+\r
+" I do not wish to make a mystery " said he , laughing . " The matter\r
+was perfectly simple . You , of course , saw that everyone in the\r
+street was an accomplice . They were all engaged for the evening "\r
+\r
+" I guessed as much "\r
+\r
+" Then , when the row broke out , I had a little moist red paint in\r
+the palm of my hand . I rushed forward , fell down , clapped my hand\r
+to my face , and became a piteous spectacle . It is an old trick "\r
+\r
+" That also I could fathom "\r
+\r
+" Then they carried me in . She was bound to have me in . What else\r
+could she do ? And into her sitting - room , which was the very room\r
+which I suspected . It lay between that and her bedroom , and I was\r
+determined to see which . They laid me on a couch , I motioned for\r
+air , they were compelled to open the window , and you had your\r
+chance "\r
+\r
+" How did that help you "\r
+\r
+" It was all - important . When a woman thinks that her house is on\r
+fire , her instinct is at once to rush to the thing which she\r
+values most . It is a perfectly overpowering impulse , and I have\r
+more than once taken advantage of it . In the case of the\r
+Darlington substitution scandal it was of use to me , and also in\r
+the Arnsworth Castle business . A married woman grabs at her baby ;\r
+an unmarried one reaches for her jewel - box . Now it was clear to\r
+me that our lady of to - day had nothing in the house more precious\r
+to her than what we are in quest of . She would rush to secure it .\r
+The alarm of fire was admirably done . The smoke and shouting were\r
+enough to shake nerves of steel . She responded beautifully . The\r
+photograph is in a recess behind a sliding panel just above the\r
+right bell - pull . She was there in an instant , and I caught a\r
+glimpse of it as she half - drew it out . When I cried out that it\r
+was a false alarm , she replaced it , glanced at the rocket , rushed\r
+from the room , and I have not seen her since . I rose , and , making\r
+my excuses , escaped from the house . I hesitated whether to\r
+attempt to secure the photograph at once ; but the coachman had\r
+come in , and as he was watching me narrowly it seemed safer to\r
+wait . A little over - precipitance may ruin all "\r
+\r
+" And now " I asked .\r
+\r
+" Our quest is practically finished . I shall call with the King\r
+to - morrow , and with you , if you care to come with us . We will be\r
+shown into the sitting - room to wait for the lady , but it is\r
+probable that when she comes she may find neither us nor the\r
+photograph . It might be a satisfaction to his Majesty to regain\r
+it with his own hands "\r
+\r
+" And when will you call "\r
+\r
+" At eight in the morning . She will not be up , so that we shall\r
+have a clear field . Besides , we must be prompt , for this marriage\r
+may mean a complete change in her life and habits . I must wire to\r
+the King without delay "\r
+\r
+We had reached Baker Street and had stopped at the door . He was\r
+searching his pockets for the key when someone passing said :\r
+\r
+" Good - night , Mister Sherlock Holmes "\r
+\r
+There were several people on the pavement at the time , but the\r
+greeting appeared to come from a slim youth in an ulster who had\r
+hurried by .\r
+\r
+" I ' ve heard that voice before " said Holmes , staring down the\r
+dimly lit street . " Now , I wonder who the deuce that could have\r
+been "\r
+\r
+\r
+III .\r
+\r
+I slept at Baker Street that night , and we were engaged upon our\r
+toast and coffee in the morning when the King of Bohemia rushed\r
+into the room .\r
+\r
+" You have really got it " he cried , grasping Sherlock Holmes by\r
+either shoulder and looking eagerly into his face .\r
+\r
+" Not yet "\r
+\r
+" But you have hopes "\r
+\r
+" I have hopes "\r
+\r
+" Then , come . I am all impatience to be gone "\r
+\r
+" We must have a cab "\r
+\r
+" No , my brougham is waiting "\r
+\r
+" Then that will simplify matters " We descended and started off\r
+once more for Briony Lodge .\r
+\r
+" Irene Adler is married " remarked Holmes .\r
+\r
+" Married ! When "\r
+\r
+" Yesterday "\r
+\r
+" But to whom "\r
+\r
+" To an English lawyer named Norton "\r
+\r
+" But she could not love him "\r
+\r
+" I am in hopes that she does "\r
+\r
+" And why in hopes "\r
+\r
+" Because it would spare your Majesty all fear of future\r
+annoyance . If the lady loves her husband , she does not love your\r
+Majesty . If she does not love your Majesty , there is no reason\r
+why she should interfere with your Majesty's plan "\r
+\r
+" It is true . And yet - Well ! I wish she had been of my own\r
+station ! What a queen she would have made " He relapsed into a\r
+moody silence , which was not broken until we drew up in\r
+Serpentine Avenue .\r
+\r
+The door of Briony Lodge was open , and an elderly woman stood\r
+upon the steps . She watched us with a sardonic eye as we stepped\r
+from the brougham .\r
+\r
+" Mr . Sherlock Holmes , I believe " said she .\r
+\r
+" I am Mr . Holmes " answered my companion , looking at her with a\r
+questioning and rather startled gaze .\r
+\r
+" Indeed ! My mistress told me that you were likely to call . She\r
+left this morning with her husband by the 5 : 15 train from Charing\r
+Cross for the Continent "\r
+\r
+" What " Sherlock Holmes staggered back , white with chagrin and\r
+surprise . " Do you mean that she has left England "\r
+\r
+" Never to return "\r
+\r
+" And the papers " asked the King hoarsely . " All is lost "\r
+\r
+" We shall see " He pushed past the servant and rushed into the\r
+drawing - room , followed by the King and myself . The furniture was\r
+scattered about in every direction , with dismantled shelves and\r
+open drawers , as if the lady had hurriedly ransacked them before\r
+her flight . Holmes rushed at the bell - pull , tore back a small\r
+sliding shutter , and , plunging in his hand , pulled out a\r
+photograph and a letter . The photograph was of Irene Adler\r
+herself in evening dress , the letter was superscribed to\r
+" Sherlock Holmes , Esq . To be left till called for " My friend\r
+tore it open and we all three read it together . It was dated at\r
+midnight of the preceding night and ran in this way :\r
+\r
+" MY DEAR MR . SHERLOCK HOLMES -- You really did it very well . You\r
+took me in completely . Until after the alarm of fire , I had not a\r
+suspicion . But then , when I found how I had betrayed myself , I\r
+began to think . I had been warned against you months ago . I had\r
+been told that if the King employed an agent it would certainly\r
+be you . And your address had been given me . Yet , with all this ,\r
+you made me reveal what you wanted to know . Even after I became\r
+suspicious , I found it hard to think evil of such a dear , kind\r
+old clergyman . But , you know , I have been trained as an actress\r
+myself . Male costume is nothing new to me . I often take advantage\r
+of the freedom which it gives . I sent John , the coachman , to\r
+watch you , ran up stairs , got into my walking - clothes , as I call\r
+them , and came down just as you departed .\r
+\r
+" Well , I followed you to your door , and so made sure that I was\r
+really an object of interest to the celebrated Mr . Sherlock\r
+Holmes . Then I , rather imprudently , wished you good - night , and\r
+started for the Temple to see my husband .\r
+\r
+" We both thought the best resource was flight , when pursued by\r
+so formidable an antagonist ; so you will find the nest empty when\r
+you call to - morrow . As to the photograph , your client may rest in\r
+peace . I love and am loved by a better man than he . The King may\r
+do what he will without hindrance from one whom he has cruelly\r
+wronged . I keep it only to safeguard myself , and to preserve a\r
+weapon which will always secure me from any steps which he might\r
+take in the future . I leave a photograph which he might care to\r
+possess ; and I remain , dear Mr . Sherlock Holmes ,\r
+\r
+ " Very truly yours ,\r
+ " IRENE NORTON , nee ADLER "\r
+\r
+" What a woman - oh , what a woman " cried the King of Bohemia , when\r
+we had all three read this epistle . " Did I not tell you how quick\r
+and resolute she was ? Would she not have made an admirable queen ?\r
+Is it not a pity that she was not on my level "\r
+\r
+" From what I have seen of the lady she seems indeed to be on a\r
+very different level to your Majesty " said Holmes coldly . " I am\r
+sorry that I have not been able to bring your Majesty's business\r
+to a more successful conclusion "\r
+\r
+" On the contrary , my dear sir " cried the King ; " nothing could be\r
+more successful . I know that her word is inviolate . The\r
+photograph is now as safe as if it were in the fire "\r
+\r
+" I am glad to hear your Majesty say so "\r
+\r
+" I am immensely indebted to you . Pray tell me in what way I can\r
+reward you . This ring -" He slipped an emerald snake ring from\r
+his finger and held it out upon the palm of his hand .\r
+\r
+" Your Majesty has something which I should value even more\r
+highly " said Holmes .\r
+\r
+" You have but to name it "\r
+\r
+" This photograph "\r
+\r
+The King stared at him in amazement .\r
+\r
+" Irene's photograph " he cried . " Certainly , if you wish it "\r
+\r
+" I thank your Majesty . Then there is no more to be done in the\r
+matter . I have the honour to wish you a very good - morning " He\r
+bowed , and , turning away without observing the hand which the\r
+King had stretched out to him , he set off in my company for his\r
+chambers .\r
+\r
+And that was how a great scandal threatened to affect the kingdom\r
+of Bohemia , and how the best plans of Mr . Sherlock Holmes were\r
+beaten by a woman's wit . He used to make merry over the\r
+cleverness of women , but I have not heard him do it of late . And\r
+when he speaks of Irene Adler , or when he refers to her\r
+photograph , it is always under the honourable title of the woman .\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+ADVENTURE II . THE RED - HEADED LEAGUE\r
+\r
+I had called upon my friend , Mr . Sherlock Holmes , one day in the\r
+autumn of last year and found him in deep conversation with a\r
+very stout , florid - faced , elderly gentleman with fiery red hair .\r
+With an apology for my intrusion , I was about to withdraw when\r
+Holmes pulled me abruptly into the room and closed the door\r
+behind me .\r
+\r
+" You could not possibly have come at a better time , my dear\r
+Watson " he said cordially .\r
+\r
+" I was afraid that you were engaged "\r
+\r
+" So I am . Very much so "\r
+\r
+" Then I can wait in the next room "\r
+\r
+" Not at all . This gentleman , Mr . Wilson , has been my partner and\r
+helper in many of my most successful cases , and I have no\r
+doubt that he will be of the utmost use to me in yours also "\r
+\r
+The stout gentleman half rose from his chair and gave a bob of\r
+greeting , with a quick little questioning glance from his small\r
+fat - encircled eyes .\r
+\r
+" Try the settee " said Holmes , relapsing into his armchair and\r
+putting his fingertips together , as was his custom when in\r
+judicial moods . " I know , my dear Watson , that you share my love\r
+of all that is bizarre and outside the conventions and humdrum\r
+routine of everyday life . You have shown your relish for it by\r
+the enthusiasm which has prompted you to chronicle , and , if you\r
+will excuse my saying so , somewhat to embellish so many of my own\r
+little adventures "\r
+\r
+" Your cases have indeed been of the greatest interest to me " I\r
+observed .\r
+\r
+" You will remember that I remarked the other day , just before we\r
+went into the very simple problem presented by Miss Mary\r
+Sutherland , that for strange effects and extraordinary\r
+combinations we must go to life itself , which is always far more\r
+daring than any effort of the imagination "\r
+\r
+" A proposition which I took the liberty of doubting "\r
+\r
+" You did , Doctor , but none the less you must come round to my\r
+view , for otherwise I shall keep on piling fact upon fact on you\r
+until your reason breaks down under them and acknowledges me to\r
+be right . Now , Mr . Jabez Wilson here has been good enough to call\r
+upon me this morning , and to begin a narrative which promises to\r
+be one of the most singular which I have listened to for some\r
+time . You have heard me remark that the strangest and most unique\r
+things are very often connected not with the larger but with the\r
+smaller crimes , and occasionally , indeed , where there is room for\r
+doubt whether any positive crime has been committed . As far as I\r
+have heard it is impossible for me to say whether the present\r
+case is an instance of crime or not , but the course of events is\r
+certainly among the most singular that I have ever listened to .\r
+Perhaps , Mr . Wilson , you would have the great kindness to\r
+recommence your narrative . I ask you not merely because my friend\r
+Dr . Watson has not heard the opening part but also because the\r
+peculiar nature of the story makes me anxious to have every\r
+possible detail from your lips . As a rule , when I have heard some\r
+slight indication of the course of events , I am able to guide\r
+myself by the thousands of other similar cases which occur to my\r
+memory . In the present instance I am forced to admit that the\r
+facts are , to the best of my belief , unique "\r
+\r
+The portly client puffed out his chest with an appearance of some\r
+little pride and pulled a dirty and wrinkled newspaper from the\r
+inside pocket of his greatcoat . As he glanced down the\r
+advertisement column , with his head thrust forward and the paper\r
+flattened out upon his knee , I took a good look at the man and\r
+endeavoured , after the fashion of my companion , to read the\r
+indications which might be presented by his dress or appearance .\r
+\r
+I did not gain very much , however , by my inspection . Our visitor\r
+bore every mark of being an average commonplace British\r
+tradesman , obese , pompous , and slow . He wore rather baggy grey\r
+shepherd's check trousers , a not over - clean black frock - coat ,\r
+unbuttoned in the front , and a drab waistcoat with a heavy brassy\r
+Albert chain , and a square pierced bit of metal dangling down as\r
+an ornament . A frayed top - hat and a faded brown overcoat with a\r
+wrinkled velvet collar lay upon a chair beside him . Altogether ,\r
+look as I would , there was nothing remarkable about the man save\r
+his blazing red head , and the expression of extreme chagrin and\r
+discontent upon his features .\r
+\r
+Sherlock Holmes ' quick eye took in my occupation , and he shook\r
+his head with a smile as he noticed my questioning glances .\r
+" Beyond the obvious facts that he has at some time done manual\r
+labour , that he takes snuff , that he is a Freemason , that he has\r
+been in China , and that he has done a considerable amount of\r
+writing lately , I can deduce nothing else "\r
+\r
+Mr . Jabez Wilson started up in his chair , with his forefinger\r
+upon the paper , but his eyes upon my companion .\r
+\r
+" How , in the name of good - fortune , did you know all that , Mr .\r
+Holmes " he asked . " How did you know , for example , that I did\r
+manual labour . It's as true as gospel , for I began as a ship's\r
+carpenter "\r
+\r
+" Your hands , my dear sir . Your right hand is quite a size larger\r
+than your left . You have worked with it , and the muscles are more\r
+developed "\r
+\r
+" Well , the snuff , then , and the Freemasonry "\r
+\r
+" I won't insult your intelligence by telling you how I read that ,\r
+especially as , rather against the strict rules of your order , you\r
+use an arc - and - compass breastpin "\r
+\r
+" Ah , of course , I forgot that . But the writing "\r
+\r
+" What else can be indicated by that right cuff so very shiny for\r
+five inches , and the left one with the smooth patch near the\r
+elbow where you rest it upon the desk "\r
+\r
+" Well , but China "\r
+\r
+" The fish that you have tattooed immediately above your right\r
+wrist could only have been done in China . I have made a small\r
+study of tattoo marks and have even contributed to the literature\r
+of the subject . That trick of staining the fishes ' scales of a\r
+delicate pink is quite peculiar to China . When , in addition , I\r
+see a Chinese coin hanging from your watch - chain , the matter\r
+becomes even more simple "\r
+\r
+Mr . Jabez Wilson laughed heavily . " Well , I never " said he . " I\r
+thought at first that you had done something clever , but I see\r
+that there was nothing in it , after all "\r
+\r
+" I begin to think , Watson " said Holmes , " that I make a mistake\r
+in explaining . ' Omne ignotum pro magnifico ' you know , and my\r
+poor little reputation , such as it is , will suffer shipwreck if I\r
+am so candid . Can you not find the advertisement , Mr . Wilson "\r
+\r
+" Yes , I have got it now " he answered with his thick red finger\r
+planted halfway down the column . " Here it is . This is what began\r
+it all . You just read it for yourself , sir "\r
+\r
+I took the paper from him and read as follows :\r
+\r
+" TO THE RED - HEADED LEAGUE : On account of the bequest of the late\r
+Ezekiah Hopkins , of Lebanon , Pennsylvania , U . S . A , there is now\r
+another vacancy open which entitles a member of the League to a\r
+salary of 4 pounds a week for purely nominal services . All\r
+red - headed men who are sound in body and mind and above the age\r
+of twenty - one years , are eligible . Apply in person on Monday , at\r
+eleven o'clock , to Duncan Ross , at the offices of the League , 7\r
+Pope's Court , Fleet Street "\r
+\r
+" What on earth does this mean " I ejaculated after I had twice\r
+read over the extraordinary announcement .\r
+\r
+Holmes chuckled and wriggled in his chair , as was his habit when\r
+in high spirits . " It is a little off the beaten track , isn't it "\r
+said he . " And now , Mr . Wilson , off you go at scratch and tell us\r
+all about yourself , your household , and the effect which this\r
+advertisement had upon your fortunes . You will first make a note ,\r
+Doctor , of the paper and the date "\r
+\r
+" It is The Morning Chronicle of April 27 , 1890 . Just two months\r
+ago "\r
+\r
+" Very good . Now , Mr . Wilson "\r
+\r
+" Well , it is just as I have been telling you , Mr . Sherlock\r
+Holmes " said Jabez Wilson , mopping his forehead ; " I have a small\r
+pawnbroker's business at Coburg Square , near the City . It's not a\r
+very large affair , and of late years it has not done more than\r
+just give me a living . I used to be able to keep two assistants ,\r
+but now I only keep one ; and I would have a job to pay him but\r
+that he is willing to come for half wages so as to learn the\r
+business "\r
+\r
+" What is the name of this obliging youth " asked Sherlock Holmes .\r
+\r
+" His name is Vincent Spaulding , and he's not such a youth ,\r
+either . It's hard to say his age . I should not wish a smarter\r
+assistant , Mr . Holmes ; and I know very well that he could better\r
+himself and earn twice what I am able to give him . But , after\r
+all , if he is satisfied , why should I put ideas in his head "\r
+\r
+" Why , indeed ? You seem most fortunate in having an employe who\r
+comes under the full market price . It is not a common experience\r
+among employers in this age . I don't know that your assistant is\r
+not as remarkable as your advertisement "\r
+\r
+" Oh , he has his faults , too " said Mr . Wilson . " Never was such a\r
+fellow for photography . Snapping away with a camera when he ought\r
+to be improving his mind , and then diving down into the cellar\r
+like a rabbit into its hole to develop his pictures . That is his\r
+main fault , but on the whole he's a good worker . There's no vice\r
+in him "\r
+\r
+" He is still with you , I presume "\r
+\r
+" Yes , sir . He and a girl of fourteen , who does a bit of simple\r
+cooking and keeps the place clean - that's all I have in the\r
+house , for I am a widower and never had any family . We live very\r
+quietly , sir , the three of us ; and we keep a roof over our heads\r
+and pay our debts , if we do nothing more .\r
+\r
+" The first thing that put us out was that advertisement .\r
+Spaulding , he came down into the office just this day eight\r
+weeks , with this very paper in his hand , and he says :\r
+\r
+ ' I wish to the Lord , Mr . Wilson , that I was a red - headed man '\r
+\r
+ ' Why that ' I asks .\r
+\r
+ ' Why ' says he , ' here's another vacancy on the League of the\r
+Red - headed Men . It's worth quite a little fortune to any man who\r
+gets it , and I understand that there are more vacancies than\r
+there are men , so that the trustees are at their wits ' end what\r
+to do with the money . If my hair would only change colour , here's\r
+a nice little crib all ready for me to step into '\r
+\r
+ ' Why , what is it , then ' I asked . You see , Mr . Holmes , I am a\r
+very stay - at - home man , and as my business came to me instead of\r
+my having to go to it , I was often weeks on end without putting\r
+my foot over the door - mat . In that way I didn't know much of what\r
+was going on outside , and I was always glad of a bit of news .\r
+\r
+ ' Have you never heard of the League of the Red - headed Men ' he\r
+asked with his eyes open .\r
+\r
+ ' Never '\r
+\r
+ ' Why , I wonder at that , for you are eligible yourself for one\r
+of the vacancies '\r
+\r
+ ' And what are they worth ' I asked .\r
+\r
+ ' Oh , merely a couple of hundred a year , but the work is slight ,\r
+and it need not interfere very much with one's other\r
+occupations '\r
+\r
+" Well , you can easily think that that made me prick up my ears ,\r
+for the business has not been over - good for some years , and an\r
+extra couple of hundred would have been very handy .\r
+\r
+ ' Tell me all about it ' said I .\r
+\r
+ ' Well ' said he , showing me the advertisement , ' you can see for\r
+yourself that the League has a vacancy , and there is the address\r
+where you should apply for particulars . As far as I can make out ,\r
+the League was founded by an American millionaire , Ezekiah\r
+Hopkins , who was very peculiar in his ways . He was himself\r
+red - headed , and he had a great sympathy for all red - headed men ;\r
+so when he died it was found that he had left his enormous\r
+fortune in the hands of trustees , with instructions to apply the\r
+interest to the providing of easy berths to men whose hair is of\r
+that colour . From all I hear it is splendid pay and very little to\r
+do '\r
+\r
+ ' But ' said I , ' there would be millions of red - headed men who\r
+would apply '\r
+\r
+ ' Not so many as you might think ' he answered . ' You see it is\r
+really confined to Londoners , and to grown men . This American had\r
+started from London when he was young , and he wanted to do the\r
+old town a good turn . Then , again , I have heard it is no use your\r
+applying if your hair is light red , or dark red , or anything but\r
+real bright , blazing , fiery red . Now , if you cared to apply , Mr .\r
+Wilson , you would just walk in ; but perhaps it would hardly be\r
+worth your while to put yourself out of the way for the sake of a\r
+few hundred pounds '\r
+\r
+" Now , it is a fact , gentlemen , as you may see for yourselves ,\r
+that my hair is of a very full and rich tint , so that it seemed\r
+to me that if there was to be any competition in the matter I\r
+stood as good a chance as any man that I had ever met . Vincent\r
+Spaulding seemed to know so much about it that I thought he might\r
+prove useful , so I just ordered him to put up the shutters for\r
+the day and to come right away with me . He was very willing to\r
+have a holiday , so we shut the business up and started off for\r
+the address that was given us in the advertisement .\r
+\r
+" I never hope to see such a sight as that again , Mr . Holmes . From\r
+north , south , east , and west every man who had a shade of red in\r
+his hair had tramped into the city to answer the advertisement .\r
+Fleet Street was choked with red - headed folk , and Pope's Court\r
+looked like a coster's orange barrow . I should not have thought\r
+there were so many in the whole country as were brought together\r
+by that single advertisement . Every shade of colour they\r
+were - straw , lemon , orange , brick , Irish - setter , liver , clay ;\r
+but , as Spaulding said , there were not many who had the real\r
+vivid flame - coloured tint . When I saw how many were waiting , I\r
+would have given it up in despair ; but Spaulding would not hear\r
+of it . How he did it I could not imagine , but he pushed and\r
+pulled and butted until he got me through the crowd , and right up\r
+to the steps which led to the office . There was a double stream\r
+upon the stair , some going up in hope , and some coming back\r
+dejected ; but we wedged in as well as we could and soon found\r
+ourselves in the office "\r
+\r
+" Your experience has been a most entertaining one " remarked\r
+Holmes as his client paused and refreshed his memory with a huge\r
+pinch of snuff . " Pray continue your very interesting statement "\r
+\r
+" There was nothing in the office but a couple of wooden chairs\r
+and a deal table , behind which sat a small man with a head that\r
+was even redder than mine . He said a few words to each candidate\r
+as he came up , and then he always managed to find some fault in\r
+them which would disqualify them . Getting a vacancy did not seem\r
+to be such a very easy matter , after all . However , when our turn\r
+came the little man was much more favourable to me than to any of\r
+the others , and he closed the door as we entered , so that he\r
+might have a private word with us .\r
+\r
+ ' This is Mr . Jabez Wilson ' said my assistant , ' and he is\r
+willing to fill a vacancy in the League '\r
+\r
+ ' And he is admirably suited for it ' the other answered . ' He has\r
+every requirement . I cannot recall when I have seen anything so\r
+fine ' He took a step backward , cocked his head on one side , and\r
+gazed at my hair until I felt quite bashful . Then suddenly he\r
+plunged forward , wrung my hand , and congratulated me warmly on my\r
+success .\r
+\r
+ ' It would be injustice to hesitate ' said he . ' You will ,\r
+however , I am sure , excuse me for taking an obvious precaution '\r
+With that he seized my hair in both his hands , and tugged until I\r
+yelled with the pain . ' There is water in your eyes ' said he as\r
+he released me . ' I perceive that all is as it should be . But we\r
+have to be careful , for we have twice been deceived by wigs and\r
+once by paint . I could tell you tales of cobbler's wax which\r
+would disgust you with human nature ' He stepped over to the\r
+window and shouted through it at the top of his voice that the\r
+vacancy was filled . A groan of disappointment came up from below ,\r
+and the folk all trooped away in different directions until there\r
+was not a red - head to be seen except my own and that of the\r
+manager .\r
+\r
+ ' My name ' said he , ' is Mr . Duncan Ross , and I am myself one of\r
+the pensioners upon the fund left by our noble benefactor . Are\r
+you a married man , Mr . Wilson ? Have you a family '\r
+\r
+" I answered that I had not .\r
+\r
+" His face fell immediately .\r
+\r
+ ' Dear me ' he said gravely , ' that is very serious indeed ! I am\r
+sorry to hear you say that . The fund was , of course , for the\r
+propagation and spread of the red - heads as well as for their\r
+maintenance . It is exceedingly unfortunate that you should be a\r
+bachelor '\r
+\r
+" My face lengthened at this , Mr . Holmes , for I thought that I was\r
+not to have the vacancy after all ; but after thinking it over for\r
+a few minutes he said that it would be all right .\r
+\r
+ ' In the case of another ' said he , ' the objection might be\r
+fatal , but we must stretch a point in favour of a man with such a\r
+head of hair as yours . When shall you be able to enter upon your\r
+new duties '\r
+\r
+ ' Well , it is a little awkward , for I have a business already '\r
+said I .\r
+\r
+ ' Oh , never mind about that , Mr . Wilson ' said Vincent Spaulding .\r
+' I should be able to look after that for you '\r
+\r
+ ' What would be the hours ' I asked .\r
+\r
+ ' Ten to two '\r
+\r
+" Now a pawnbroker's business is mostly done of an evening , Mr .\r
+Holmes , especially Thursday and Friday evening , which is just\r
+before pay - day ; so it would suit me very well to earn a little in\r
+the mornings . Besides , I knew that my assistant was a good man ,\r
+and that he would see to anything that turned up .\r
+\r
+ ' That would suit me very well ' said I . ' And the pay '\r
+\r
+ ' Is 4 pounds a week '\r
+\r
+ ' And the work '\r
+\r
+ ' Is purely nominal '\r
+\r
+ ' What do you call purely nominal '\r
+\r
+ ' Well , you have to be in the office , or at least in the\r
+building , the whole time . If you leave , you forfeit your whole\r
+position forever . The will is very clear upon that point . You\r
+don't comply with the conditions if you budge from the office\r
+during that time '\r
+\r
+ ' It's only four hours a day , and I should not think of leaving '\r
+said I .\r
+\r
+ ' No excuse will avail ' said Mr . Duncan Ross ; ' neither sickness\r
+nor business nor anything else . There you must stay , or you lose\r
+your billet '\r
+\r
+ ' And the work '\r
+\r
+ ' Is to copy out the " Encyclopaedia Britannica " There is the first\r
+volume of it in that press . You must find your own ink , pens , and\r
+blotting - paper , but we provide this table and chair . Will you be\r
+ready to - morrow '\r
+\r
+ ' Certainly ' I answered .\r
+\r
+ ' Then , good - bye , Mr . Jabez Wilson , and let me congratulate you\r
+once more on the important position which you have been fortunate\r
+enough to gain ' He bowed me out of the room and I went home with\r
+my assistant , hardly knowing what to say or do , I was so pleased\r
+at my own good fortune .\r
+\r
+" Well , I thought over the matter all day , and by evening I was in\r
+low spirits again ; for I had quite persuaded myself that the\r
+whole affair must be some great hoax or fraud , though what its\r
+object might be I could not imagine . It seemed altogether past\r
+belief that anyone could make such a will , or that they would pay\r
+such a sum for doing anything so simple as copying out the\r
+' Encyclopaedia Britannica ' Vincent Spaulding did what he could to\r
+cheer me up , but by bedtime I had reasoned myself out of the\r
+whole thing . However , in the morning I determined to have a look\r
+at it anyhow , so I bought a penny bottle of ink , and with a\r
+quill - pen , and seven sheets of foolscap paper , I started off for\r
+Pope's Court .\r
+\r
+" Well , to my surprise and delight , everything was as right as\r
+possible . The table was set out ready for me , and Mr . Duncan Ross\r
+was there to see that I got fairly to work . He started me off\r
+upon the letter A , and then he left me ; but he would drop in from\r
+time to time to see that all was right with me . At two o'clock he\r
+bade me good - day , complimented me upon the amount that I had\r
+written , and locked the door of the office after me .\r
+\r
+" This went on day after day , Mr . Holmes , and on Saturday the\r
+manager came in and planked down four golden sovereigns for my\r
+week's work . It was the same next week , and the same the week\r
+after . Every morning I was there at ten , and every afternoon I\r
+left at two . By degrees Mr . Duncan Ross took to coming in only\r
+once of a morning , and then , after a time , he did not come in at\r
+all . Still , of course , I never dared to leave the room for an\r
+instant , for I was not sure when he might come , and the billet\r
+was such a good one , and suited me so well , that I would not risk\r
+the loss of it .\r
+\r
+" Eight weeks passed away like this , and I had written about\r
+Abbots and Archery and Armour and Architecture and Attica , and\r
+hoped with diligence that I might get on to the B's before very\r
+long . It cost me something in foolscap , and I had pretty nearly\r
+filled a shelf with my writings . And then suddenly the whole\r
+business came to an end "\r
+\r
+" To an end "\r
+\r
+" Yes , sir . And no later than this morning . I went to my work as\r
+usual at ten o'clock , but the door was shut and locked , with a\r
+little square of cardboard hammered on to the middle of the\r
+panel with a tack . Here it is , and you can read for yourself "\r
+\r
+He held up a piece of white cardboard about the size of a sheet\r
+of note - paper . It read in this fashion :\r
+\r
+ THE RED - HEADED LEAGUE\r
+\r
+ IS\r
+\r
+ DISSOLVED .\r
+\r
+ October 9 , 1890 .\r
+\r
+Sherlock Holmes and I surveyed this curt announcement and the\r
+rueful face behind it , until the comical side of the affair so\r
+completely overtopped every other consideration that we both\r
+burst out into a roar of laughter .\r
+\r
+" I cannot see that there is anything very funny " cried our\r
+client , flushing up to the roots of his flaming head . " If you can\r
+do nothing better than laugh at me , I can go elsewhere "\r
+\r
+" No , no " cried Holmes , shoving him back into the chair from\r
+which he had half risen . " I really wouldn't miss your case for\r
+the world . It is most refreshingly unusual . But there is , if you\r
+will excuse my saying so , something just a little funny about it .\r
+Pray what steps did you take when you found the card upon the\r
+door "\r
+\r
+" I was staggered , sir . I did not know what to do . Then I called\r
+at the offices round , but none of them seemed to know anything\r
+about it . Finally , I went to the landlord , who is an accountant\r
+living on the ground - floor , and I asked him if he could tell me\r
+what had become of the Red - headed League . He said that he had\r
+never heard of any such body . Then I asked him who Mr . Duncan\r
+Ross was . He answered that the name was new to him .\r
+\r
+ ' Well ' said I , ' the gentleman at No . 4 '\r
+\r
+ ' What , the red - headed man '\r
+\r
+ ' Yes '\r
+\r
+ ' Oh ' said he , ' his name was William Morris . He was a solicitor\r
+and was using my room as a temporary convenience until his new\r
+premises were ready . He moved out yesterday '\r
+\r
+ ' Where could I find him '\r
+\r
+ ' Oh , at his new offices . He did tell me the address . Yes , 17\r
+King Edward Street , near St . Paul's '\r
+\r
+" I started off , Mr . Holmes , but when I got to that address it was\r
+a manufactory of artificial knee - caps , and no one in it had ever\r
+heard of either Mr . William Morris or Mr . Duncan Ross "\r
+\r
+" And what did you do then " asked Holmes .\r
+\r
+" I went home to Saxe - Coburg Square , and I took the advice of my\r
+assistant . But he could not help me in any way . He could only say\r
+that if I waited I should hear by post . But that was not quite\r
+good enough , Mr . Holmes . I did not wish to lose such a place\r
+without a struggle , so , as I had heard that you were good enough\r
+to give advice to poor folk who were in need of it , I came right\r
+away to you "\r
+\r
+" And you did very wisely " said Holmes . " Your case is an\r
+exceedingly remarkable one , and I shall be happy to look into it .\r
+From what you have told me I think that it is possible that\r
+graver issues hang from it than might at first sight appear "\r
+\r
+" Grave enough " said Mr . Jabez Wilson . " Why , I have lost four\r
+pound a week "\r
+\r
+" As far as you are personally concerned " remarked Holmes , " I do\r
+not see that you have any grievance against this extraordinary\r
+league . On the contrary , you are , as I understand , richer by some\r
+30 pounds , to say nothing of the minute knowledge which you have\r
+gained on every subject which comes under the letter A . You have\r
+lost nothing by them "\r
+\r
+" No , sir . But I want to find out about them , and who they are ,\r
+and what their object was in playing this prank - if it was a\r
+prank - upon me . It was a pretty expensive joke for them , for it\r
+cost them two and thirty pounds "\r
+\r
+" We shall endeavour to clear up these points for you . And , first ,\r
+one or two questions , Mr . Wilson . This assistant of yours who\r
+first called your attention to the advertisement - how long had he\r
+been with you "\r
+\r
+" About a month then "\r
+\r
+" How did he come "\r
+\r
+" In answer to an advertisement "\r
+\r
+" Was he the only applicant "\r
+\r
+" No , I had a dozen "\r
+\r
+" Why did you pick him "\r
+\r
+" Because he was handy and would come cheap "\r
+\r
+" At half - wages , in fact "\r
+\r
+" Yes "\r
+\r
+" What is he like , this Vincent Spaulding "\r
+\r
+" Small , stout - built , very quick in his ways , no hair on his face ,\r
+though he's not short of thirty . Has a white splash of acid upon\r
+his forehead "\r
+\r
+Holmes sat up in his chair in considerable excitement . " I thought\r
+as much " said he . " Have you ever observed that his ears are\r
+pierced for earrings "\r
+\r
+" Yes , sir . He told me that a gipsy had done it for him when he\r
+was a lad "\r
+\r
+" Hum " said Holmes , sinking back in deep thought . " He is still\r
+with you "\r
+\r
+" Oh , yes , sir ; I have only just left him "\r
+\r
+" And has your business been attended to in your absence "\r
+\r
+" Nothing to complain of , sir . There's never very much to do of a\r
+morning "\r
+\r
+" That will do , Mr . Wilson . I shall be happy to give you an\r
+opinion upon the subject in the course of a day or two . To - day is\r
+Saturday , and I hope that by Monday we may come to a conclusion "\r
+\r
+" Well , Watson " said Holmes when our visitor had left us , " what\r
+do you make of it all "\r
+\r
+" I make nothing of it " I answered frankly . " It is a most\r
+mysterious business "\r
+\r
+" As a rule " said Holmes , " the more bizarre a thing is the less\r
+mysterious it proves to be . It is your commonplace , featureless\r
+crimes which are really puzzling , just as a commonplace face is\r
+the most difficult to identify . But I must be prompt over this\r
+matter "\r
+\r
+" What are you going to do , then " I asked .\r
+\r
+" To smoke " he answered . " It is quite a three pipe problem , and I\r
+beg that you won't speak to me for fifty minutes " He curled\r
+himself up in his chair , with his thin knees drawn up to his\r
+hawk - like nose , and there he sat with his eyes closed and his\r
+black clay pipe thrusting out like the bill of some strange bird .\r
+I had come to the conclusion that he had dropped asleep , and\r
+indeed was nodding myself , when he suddenly sprang out of his\r
+chair with the gesture of a man who has made up his mind and put\r
+his pipe down upon the mantelpiece .\r
+\r
+" Sarasate plays at the St . James's Hall this afternoon " he\r
+remarked . " What do you think , Watson ? Could your patients spare\r
+you for a few hours "\r
+\r
+" I have nothing to do to - day . My practice is never very\r
+absorbing "\r
+\r
+" Then put on your hat and come . I am going through the City\r
+first , and we can have some lunch on the way . I observe that\r
+there is a good deal of German music on the programme , which is\r
+rather more to my taste than Italian or French . It is\r
+introspective , and I want to introspect . Come along "\r
+\r
+We travelled by the Underground as far as Aldersgate ; and a short\r
+walk took us to Saxe - Coburg Square , the scene of the singular\r
+story which we had listened to in the morning . It was a poky ,\r
+little , shabby - genteel place , where four lines of dingy\r
+two - storied brick houses looked out into a small railed - in\r
+enclosure , where a lawn of weedy grass and a few clumps of faded\r
+laurel - bushes made a hard fight against a smoke - laden and\r
+uncongenial atmosphere . Three gilt balls and a brown board with\r
+" JABEZ WILSON " in white letters , upon a corner house , announced\r
+the place where our red - headed client carried on his business .\r
+Sherlock Holmes stopped in front of it with his head on one side\r
+and looked it all over , with his eyes shining brightly between\r
+puckered lids . Then he walked slowly up the street , and then down\r
+again to the corner , still looking keenly at the houses . Finally\r
+he returned to the pawnbroker's , and , having thumped vigorously\r
+upon the pavement with his stick two or three times , he went up\r
+to the door and knocked . It was instantly opened by a\r
+bright - looking , clean - shaven young fellow , who asked him to step\r
+in .\r
+\r
+" Thank you " said Holmes , " I only wished to ask you how you would\r
+go from here to the Strand "\r
+\r
+" Third right , fourth left " answered the assistant promptly ,\r
+closing the door .\r
+\r
+" Smart fellow , that " observed Holmes as we walked away . " He is ,\r
+in my judgment , the fourth smartest man in London , and for daring\r
+I am not sure that he has not a claim to be third . I have known\r
+something of him before "\r
+\r
+" Evidently " said I , " Mr . Wilson's assistant counts for a good\r
+deal in this mystery of the Red - headed League . I am sure that you\r
+inquired your way merely in order that you might see him "\r
+\r
+" Not him "\r
+\r
+" What then "\r
+\r
+" The knees of his trousers "\r
+\r
+" And what did you see "\r
+\r
+" What I expected to see "\r
+\r
+" Why did you beat the pavement "\r
+\r
+" My dear doctor , this is a time for observation , not for talk . We\r
+are spies in an enemy's country . We know something of Saxe - Coburg\r
+Square . Let us now explore the parts which lie behind it "\r
+\r
+The road in which we found ourselves as we turned round the\r
+corner from the retired Saxe - Coburg Square presented as great a\r
+contrast to it as the front of a picture does to the back . It was\r
+one of the main arteries which conveyed the traffic of the City\r
+to the north and west . The roadway was blocked with the immense\r
+stream of commerce flowing in a double tide inward and outward ,\r
+while the footpaths were black with the hurrying swarm of\r
+pedestrians . It was difficult to realise as we looked at the line\r
+of fine shops and stately business premises that they really\r
+abutted on the other side upon the faded and stagnant square\r
+which we had just quitted .\r
+\r
+" Let me see " said Holmes , standing at the corner and glancing\r
+along the line , " I should like just to remember the order of the\r
+houses here . It is a hobby of mine to have an exact knowledge of\r
+London . There is Mortimer's , the tobacconist , the little\r
+newspaper shop , the Coburg branch of the City and Suburban Bank ,\r
+the Vegetarian Restaurant , and McFarlane's carriage - building\r
+depot . That carries us right on to the other block . And now ,\r
+Doctor , we ' ve done our work , so it's time we had some play . A\r
+sandwich and a cup of coffee , and then off to violin - land , where\r
+all is sweetness and delicacy and harmony , and there are no\r
+red - headed clients to vex us with their conundrums "\r
+\r
+My friend was an enthusiastic musician , being himself not only a\r
+very capable performer but a composer of no ordinary merit . All\r
+the afternoon he sat in the stalls wrapped in the most perfect\r
+happiness , gently waving his long , thin fingers in time to the\r
+music , while his gently smiling face and his languid , dreamy eyes\r
+were as unlike those of Holmes the sleuth - hound , Holmes the\r
+relentless , keen - witted , ready - handed criminal agent , as it was\r
+possible to conceive . In his singular character the dual nature\r
+alternately asserted itself , and his extreme exactness and\r
+astuteness represented , as I have often thought , the reaction\r
+against the poetic and contemplative mood which occasionally\r
+predominated in him . The swing of his nature took him from\r
+extreme languor to devouring energy ; and , as I knew well , he was\r
+never so truly formidable as when , for days on end , he had been\r
+lounging in his armchair amid his improvisations and his\r
+black - letter editions . Then it was that the lust of the chase\r
+would suddenly come upon him , and that his brilliant reasoning\r
+power would rise to the level of intuition , until those who were\r
+unacquainted with his methods would look askance at him as on a\r
+man whose knowledge was not that of other mortals . When I saw him\r
+that afternoon so enwrapped in the music at St . James's Hall I\r
+felt that an evil time might be coming upon those whom he had set\r
+himself to hunt down .\r
+\r
+" You want to go home , no doubt , Doctor " he remarked as we\r
+emerged .\r
+\r
+" Yes , it would be as well "\r
+\r
+" And I have some business to do which will take some hours . This\r
+business at Coburg Square is serious "\r
+\r
+" Why serious "\r
+\r
+" A considerable crime is in contemplation . I have every reason to\r
+believe that we shall be in time to stop it . But to - day being\r
+Saturday rather complicates matters . I shall want your help\r
+to - night "\r
+\r
+" At what time "\r
+\r
+" Ten will be early enough "\r
+\r
+" I shall be at Baker Street at ten "\r
+\r
+" Very well . And , I say , Doctor , there may be some little danger ,\r
+so kindly put your army revolver in your pocket " He waved his\r
+hand , turned on his heel , and disappeared in an instant among the\r
+crowd .\r
+\r
+I trust that I am not more dense than my neighbours , but I was\r
+always oppressed with a sense of my own stupidity in my dealings\r
+with Sherlock Holmes . Here I had heard what he had heard , I had\r
+seen what he had seen , and yet from his words it was evident that\r
+he saw clearly not only what had happened but what was about to\r
+happen , while to me the whole business was still confused and\r
+grotesque . As I drove home to my house in Kensington I thought\r
+over it all , from the extraordinary story of the red - headed\r
+copier of the " Encyclopaedia " down to the visit to Saxe - Coburg\r
+Square , and the ominous words with which he had parted from me .\r
+What was this nocturnal expedition , and why should I go armed ?\r
+Where were we going , and what were we to do ? I had the hint from\r
+Holmes that this smooth - faced pawnbroker's assistant was a\r
+formidable man - a man who might play a deep game . I tried to\r
+puzzle it out , but gave it up in despair and set the matter aside\r
+until night should bring an explanation .\r
+\r
+It was a quarter - past nine when I started from home and made my\r
+way across the Park , and so through Oxford Street to Baker\r
+Street . Two hansoms were standing at the door , and as I entered\r
+the passage I heard the sound of voices from above . On entering\r
+his room I found Holmes in animated conversation with two men ,\r
+one of whom I recognised as Peter Jones , the official police\r
+agent , while the other was a long , thin , sad - faced man , with a\r
+very shiny hat and oppressively respectable frock - coat .\r
+\r
+" Ha ! Our party is complete " said Holmes , buttoning up his\r
+pea - jacket and taking his heavy hunting crop from the rack .\r
+" Watson , I think you know Mr . Jones , of Scotland Yard ? Let me\r
+introduce you to Mr . Merryweather , who is to be our companion in\r
+to - night's adventure "\r
+\r
+" We ' re hunting in couples again , Doctor , you see " said Jones in\r
+his consequential way . " Our friend here is a wonderful man for\r
+starting a chase . All he wants is an old dog to help him to do\r
+the running down "\r
+\r
+" I hope a wild goose may not prove to be the end of our chase "\r
+observed Mr . Merryweather gloomily .\r
+\r
+" You may place considerable confidence in Mr . Holmes , sir " said\r
+the police agent loftily . " He has his own little methods , which\r
+are , if he won't mind my saying so , just a little too theoretical\r
+and fantastic , but he has the makings of a detective in him . It\r
+is not too much to say that once or twice , as in that business of\r
+the Sholto murder and the Agra treasure , he has been more nearly\r
+correct than the official force "\r
+\r
+" Oh , if you say so , Mr . Jones , it is all right " said the\r
+stranger with deference . " Still , I confess that I miss my rubber .\r
+It is the first Saturday night for seven - and - twenty years that I\r
+have not had my rubber "\r
+\r
+" I think you will find " said Sherlock Holmes , " that you will\r
+play for a higher stake to - night than you have ever done yet , and\r
+that the play will be more exciting . For you , Mr . Merryweather ,\r
+the stake will be some 30 , 000 pounds ; and for you , Jones , it will\r
+be the man upon whom you wish to lay your hands "\r
+\r
+" John Clay , the murderer , thief , smasher , and forger . He's a\r
+young man , Mr . Merryweather , but he is at the head of his\r
+profession , and I would rather have my bracelets on him than on\r
+any criminal in London . He's a remarkable man , is young John\r
+Clay . His grandfather was a royal duke , and he himself has been\r
+to Eton and Oxford . His brain is as cunning as his fingers , and\r
+though we meet signs of him at every turn , we never know where to\r
+find the man himself . He ' ll crack a crib in Scotland one week ,\r
+and be raising money to build an orphanage in Cornwall the next .\r
+I ' ve been on his track for years and have never set eyes on him\r
+yet "\r
+\r
+" I hope that I may have the pleasure of introducing you to - night .\r
+I ' ve had one or two little turns also with Mr . John Clay , and I\r
+agree with you that he is at the head of his profession . It is\r
+past ten , however , and quite time that we started . If you two\r
+will take the first hansom , Watson and I will follow in the\r
+second "\r
+\r
+Sherlock Holmes was not very communicative during the long drive\r
+and lay back in the cab humming the tunes which he had heard in\r
+the afternoon . We rattled through an endless labyrinth of gas - lit\r
+streets until we emerged into Farrington Street .\r
+\r
+" We are close there now " my friend remarked . " This fellow\r
+Merryweather is a bank director , and personally interested in the\r
+matter . I thought it as well to have Jones with us also . He is\r
+not a bad fellow , though an absolute imbecile in his profession .\r
+He has one positive virtue . He is as brave as a bulldog and as\r
+tenacious as a lobster if he gets his claws upon anyone . Here we\r
+are , and they are waiting for us "\r
+\r
+We had reached the same crowded thoroughfare in which we had\r
+found ourselves in the morning . Our cabs were dismissed , and ,\r
+following the guidance of Mr . Merryweather , we passed down a\r
+narrow passage and through a side door , which he opened for us .\r
+Within there was a small corridor , which ended in a very massive\r
+iron gate . This also was opened , and led down a flight of winding\r
+stone steps , which terminated at another formidable gate . Mr .\r
+Merryweather stopped to light a lantern , and then conducted us\r
+down a dark , earth - smelling passage , and so , after opening a\r
+third door , into a huge vault or cellar , which was piled all\r
+round with crates and massive boxes .\r
+\r
+" You are not very vulnerable from above " Holmes remarked as he\r
+held up the lantern and gazed about him .\r
+\r
+" Nor from below " said Mr . Merryweather , striking his stick upon\r
+the flags which lined the floor . " Why , dear me , it sounds quite\r
+hollow " he remarked , looking up in surprise .\r
+\r
+" I must really ask you to be a little more quiet " said Holmes\r
+severely . " You have already imperilled the whole success of our\r
+expedition . Might I beg that you would have the goodness to sit\r
+down upon one of those boxes , and not to interfere "\r
+\r
+The solemn Mr . Merryweather perched himself upon a crate , with a\r
+very injured expression upon his face , while Holmes fell upon his\r
+knees upon the floor and , with the lantern and a magnifying lens ,\r
+began to examine minutely the cracks between the stones . A few\r
+seconds sufficed to satisfy him , for he sprang to his feet again\r
+and put his glass in his pocket .\r
+\r
+" We have at least an hour before us " he remarked , " for they can\r
+hardly take any steps until the good pawnbroker is safely in bed .\r
+Then they will not lose a minute , for the sooner they do their\r
+work the longer time they will have for their escape . We are at\r
+present , Doctor - as no doubt you have divined - in the cellar of\r
+the City branch of one of the principal London banks . Mr .\r
+Merryweather is the chairman of directors , and he will explain to\r
+you that there are reasons why the more daring criminals of\r
+London should take a considerable interest in this cellar at\r
+present "\r
+\r
+" It is our French gold " whispered the director . " We have had\r
+several warnings that an attempt might be made upon it "\r
+\r
+" Your French gold "\r
+\r
+" Yes . We had occasion some months ago to strengthen our resources\r
+and borrowed for that purpose 30 , 000 napoleons from the Bank of\r
+France . It has become known that we have never had occasion to\r
+unpack the money , and that it is still lying in our cellar . The\r
+crate upon which I sit contains 2 , 000 napoleons packed between\r
+layers of lead foil . Our reserve of bullion is much larger at\r
+present than is usually kept in a single branch office , and the\r
+directors have had misgivings upon the subject "\r
+\r
+" Which were very well justified " observed Holmes . " And now it is\r
+time that we arranged our little plans . I expect that within an\r
+hour matters will come to a head . In the meantime Mr .\r
+Merryweather , we must put the screen over that dark lantern "\r
+\r
+" And sit in the dark "\r
+\r
+" I am afraid so . I had brought a pack of cards in my pocket , and\r
+I thought that , as we were a partie carree , you might have your\r
+rubber after all . But I see that the enemy's preparations have\r
+gone so far that we cannot risk the presence of a light . And ,\r
+first of all , we must choose our positions . These are daring men ,\r
+and though we shall take them at a disadvantage , they may do us\r
+some harm unless we are careful . I shall stand behind this crate ,\r
+and do you conceal yourselves behind those . Then , when I flash a\r
+light upon them , close in swiftly . If they fire , Watson , have no\r
+compunction about shooting them down "\r
+\r
+I placed my revolver , cocked , upon the top of the wooden case\r
+behind which I crouched . Holmes shot the slide across the front\r
+of his lantern and left us in pitch darkness - such an absolute\r
+darkness as I have never before experienced . The smell of hot\r
+metal remained to assure us that the light was still there , ready\r
+to flash out at a moment's notice . To me , with my nerves worked\r
+up to a pitch of expectancy , there was something depressing and\r
+subduing in the sudden gloom , and in the cold dank air of the\r
+vault .\r
+\r
+" They have but one retreat " whispered Holmes . " That is back\r
+through the house into Saxe - Coburg Square . I hope that you have\r
+done what I asked you , Jones "\r
+\r
+" I have an inspector and two officers waiting at the front door "\r
+\r
+" Then we have stopped all the holes . And now we must be silent\r
+and wait "\r
+\r
+What a time it seemed ! From comparing notes afterwards it was but\r
+an hour and a quarter , yet it appeared to me that the night must\r
+have almost gone and the dawn be breaking above us . My limbs\r
+were weary and stiff , for I feared to change my position ; yet my\r
+nerves were worked up to the highest pitch of tension , and my\r
+hearing was so acute that I could not only hear the gentle\r
+breathing of my companions , but I could distinguish the deeper ,\r
+heavier in - breath of the bulky Jones from the thin , sighing note\r
+of the bank director . From my position I could look over the case\r
+in the direction of the floor . Suddenly my eyes caught the glint\r
+of a light .\r
+\r
+At first it was but a lurid spark upon the stone pavement . Then\r
+it lengthened out until it became a yellow line , and then ,\r
+without any warning or sound , a gash seemed to open and a hand\r
+appeared , a white , almost womanly hand , which felt about in the\r
+centre of the little area of light . For a minute or more the\r
+hand , with its writhing fingers , protruded out of the floor . Then\r
+it was withdrawn as suddenly as it appeared , and all was dark\r
+again save the single lurid spark which marked a chink between\r
+the stones .\r
+\r
+Its disappearance , however , was but momentary . With a rending ,\r
+tearing sound , one of the broad , white stones turned over upon\r
+its side and left a square , gaping hole , through which streamed\r
+the light of a lantern . Over the edge there peeped a clean - cut ,\r
+boyish face , which looked keenly about it , and then , with a hand\r
+on either side of the aperture , drew itself shoulder - high and\r
+waist - high , until one knee rested upon the edge . In another\r
+instant he stood at the side of the hole and was hauling after\r
+him a companion , lithe and small like himself , with a pale face\r
+and a shock of very red hair .\r
+\r
+" It's all clear " he whispered . " Have you the chisel and the\r
+bags ? Great Scott ! Jump , Archie , jump , and I ' ll swing for it "\r
+\r
+Sherlock Holmes had sprung out and seized the intruder by the\r
+collar . The other dived down the hole , and I heard the sound of\r
+rending cloth as Jones clutched at his skirts . The light flashed\r
+upon the barrel of a revolver , but Holmes ' hunting crop came\r
+down on the man's wrist , and the pistol clinked upon the stone\r
+floor .\r
+\r
+" It's no use , John Clay " said Holmes blandly . " You have no\r
+chance at all "\r
+\r
+" So I see " the other answered with the utmost coolness . " I fancy\r
+that my pal is all right , though I see you have got his\r
+coat - tails "\r
+\r
+" There are three men waiting for him at the door " said Holmes .\r
+\r
+" Oh , indeed ! You seem to have done the thing very completely . I\r
+must compliment you "\r
+\r
+" And I you " Holmes answered . " Your red - headed idea was very new\r
+and effective "\r
+\r
+" You ' ll see your pal again presently " said Jones . " He's quicker\r
+at climbing down holes than I am . Just hold out while I fix the\r
+derbies "\r
+\r
+" I beg that you will not touch me with your filthy hands "\r
+remarked our prisoner as the handcuffs clattered upon his wrists .\r
+" You may not be aware that I have royal blood in my veins . Have\r
+the goodness , also , when you address me always to say ' sir ' and\r
+' please '"\r
+\r
+" All right " said Jones with a stare and a snigger . " Well , would\r
+you please , sir , march upstairs , where we can get a cab to carry\r
+your Highness to the police - station "\r
+\r
+" That is better " said John Clay serenely . He made a sweeping bow\r
+to the three of us and walked quietly off in the custody of the\r
+detective .\r
+\r
+" Really , Mr . Holmes " said Mr . Merryweather as we followed them\r
+from the cellar , " I do not know how the bank can thank you or\r
+repay you . There is no doubt that you have detected and defeated\r
+in the most complete manner one of the most determined attempts\r
+at bank robbery that have ever come within my experience "\r
+\r
+" I have had one or two little scores of my own to settle with Mr .\r
+John Clay " said Holmes . " I have been at some small expense over\r
+this matter , which I shall expect the bank to refund , but beyond\r
+that I am amply repaid by having had an experience which is in\r
+many ways unique , and by hearing the very remarkable narrative of\r
+the Red - headed League "\r
+\r
+\r
+" You see , Watson " he explained in the early hours of the morning\r
+as we sat over a glass of whisky and soda in Baker Street , " it\r
+was perfectly obvious from the first that the only possible\r
+object of this rather fantastic business of the advertisement of\r
+the League , and the copying of the ' Encyclopaedia ' must be to get\r
+this not over - bright pawnbroker out of the way for a number of\r
+hours every day . It was a curious way of managing it , but ,\r
+really , it would be difficult to suggest a better . The method was\r
+no doubt suggested to Clay's ingenious mind by the colour of his\r
+accomplice's hair . The 4 pounds a week was a lure which must draw\r
+him , and what was it to them , who were playing for thousands ?\r
+They put in the advertisement , one rogue has the temporary\r
+office , the other rogue incites the man to apply for it , and\r
+together they manage to secure his absence every morning in the\r
+week . From the time that I heard of the assistant having come for\r
+half wages , it was obvious to me that he had some strong motive\r
+for securing the situation "\r
+\r
+" But how could you guess what the motive was "\r
+\r
+" Had there been women in the house , I should have suspected a\r
+mere vulgar intrigue . That , however , was out of the question . The\r
+man's business was a small one , and there was nothing in his\r
+house which could account for such elaborate preparations , and\r
+such an expenditure as they were at . It must , then , be something\r
+out of the house . What could it be ? I thought of the assistant's\r
+fondness for photography , and his trick of vanishing into the\r
+cellar . The cellar ! There was the end of this tangled clue . Then\r
+I made inquiries as to this mysterious assistant and found that I\r
+had to deal with one of the coolest and most daring criminals in\r
+London . He was doing something in the cellar - something which\r
+took many hours a day for months on end . What could it be , once\r
+more ? I could think of nothing save that he was running a tunnel\r
+to some other building .\r
+\r
+" So far I had got when we went to visit the scene of action . I\r
+surprised you by beating upon the pavement with my stick . I was\r
+ascertaining whether the cellar stretched out in front or behind .\r
+It was not in front . Then I rang the bell , and , as I hoped , the\r
+assistant answered it . We have had some skirmishes , but we had\r
+never set eyes upon each other before . I hardly looked at his\r
+face . His knees were what I wished to see . You must yourself have\r
+remarked how worn , wrinkled , and stained they were . They spoke of\r
+those hours of burrowing . The only remaining point was what they\r
+were burrowing for . I walked round the corner , saw the City and\r
+Suburban Bank abutted on our friend's premises , and felt that I\r
+had solved my problem . When you drove home after the concert I\r
+called upon Scotland Yard and upon the chairman of the bank\r
+directors , with the result that you have seen "\r
+\r
+" And how could you tell that they would make their attempt\r
+to - night " I asked .\r
+\r
+" Well , when they closed their League offices that was a sign that\r
+they cared no longer about Mr . Jabez Wilson's presence - in other\r
+words , that they had completed their tunnel . But it was essential\r
+that they should use it soon , as it might be discovered , or the\r
+bullion might be removed . Saturday would suit them better than\r
+any other day , as it would give them two days for their escape .\r
+For all these reasons I expected them to come to - night "\r
+\r
+" You reasoned it out beautifully " I exclaimed in unfeigned\r
+admiration . " It is so long a chain , and yet every link rings\r
+true "\r
+\r
+" It saved me from ennui " he answered , yawning . " Alas ! I already\r
+feel it closing in upon me . My life is spent in one long effort\r
+to escape from the commonplaces of existence . These little\r
+problems help me to do so "\r
+\r
+" And you are a benefactor of the race " said I .\r
+\r
+He shrugged his shoulders . " Well , perhaps , after all , it is of\r
+some little use " he remarked . " ' L ' homme c ' est rien - l ' oeuvre\r
+c ' est tout ' as Gustave Flaubert wrote to George Sand "\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+ADVENTURE III . A CASE OF IDENTITY\r
+\r
+" My dear fellow " said Sherlock Holmes as we sat on either side\r
+of the fire in his lodgings at Baker Street , " life is infinitely\r
+stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent . We\r
+would not dare to conceive the things which are really mere\r
+commonplaces of existence . If we could fly out of that window\r
+hand in hand , hover over this great city , gently remove the\r
+roofs , and peep in at the queer things which are going on , the\r
+strange coincidences , the plannings , the cross - purposes , the\r
+wonderful chains of events , working through generations , and\r
+leading to the most outre results , it would make all fiction with\r
+its conventionalities and foreseen conclusions most stale and\r
+unprofitable "\r
+\r
+" And yet I am not convinced of it " I answered . " The cases which\r
+come to light in the papers are , as a rule , bald enough , and\r
+vulgar enough . We have in our police reports realism pushed to\r
+its extreme limits , and yet the result is , it must be confessed ,\r
+neither fascinating nor artistic "\r
+\r
+" A certain selection and discretion must be used in producing a\r
+realistic effect " remarked Holmes . " This is wanting in the\r
+police report , where more stress is laid , perhaps , upon the\r
+platitudes of the magistrate than upon the details , which to an\r
+observer contain the vital essence of the whole matter . Depend\r
+upon it , there is nothing so unnatural as the commonplace "\r
+\r
+I smiled and shook my head . " I can quite understand your thinking\r
+so " I said . " Of course , in your position of unofficial adviser\r
+and helper to everybody who is absolutely puzzled , throughout\r
+three continents , you are brought in contact with all that is\r
+strange and bizarre . But here -- I picked up the morning paper\r
+from the ground -" let us put it to a practical test . Here is the\r
+first heading upon which I come . ' A husband's cruelty to his\r
+wife ' There is half a column of print , but I know without\r
+reading it that it is all perfectly familiar to me . There is , of\r
+course , the other woman , the drink , the push , the blow , the\r
+bruise , the sympathetic sister or landlady . The crudest of\r
+writers could invent nothing more crude "\r
+\r
+" Indeed , your example is an unfortunate one for your argument "\r
+said Holmes , taking the paper and glancing his eye down it . " This\r
+is the Dundas separation case , and , as it happens , I was engaged\r
+in clearing up some small points in connection with it . The\r
+husband was a teetotaler , there was no other woman , and the\r
+conduct complained of was that he had drifted into the habit of\r
+winding up every meal by taking out his false teeth and hurling\r
+them at his wife , which , you will allow , is not an action likely\r
+to occur to the imagination of the average story - teller . Take a\r
+pinch of snuff , Doctor , and acknowledge that I have scored over\r
+you in your example "\r
+\r
+He held out his snuffbox of old gold , with a great amethyst in\r
+the centre of the lid . Its splendour was in such contrast to his\r
+homely ways and simple life that I could not help commenting upon\r
+it .\r
+\r
+" Ah " said he , " I forgot that I had not seen you for some weeks .\r
+It is a little souvenir from the King of Bohemia in return for my\r
+assistance in the case of the Irene Adler papers "\r
+\r
+" And the ring " I asked , glancing at a remarkable brilliant which\r
+sparkled upon his finger .\r
+\r
+" It was from the reigning family of Holland , though the matter in\r
+which I served them was of such delicacy that I cannot confide it\r
+even to you , who have been good enough to chronicle one or two of\r
+my little problems "\r
+\r
+" And have you any on hand just now " I asked with interest .\r
+\r
+" Some ten or twelve , but none which present any feature of\r
+interest . They are important , you understand , without being\r
+interesting . Indeed , I have found that it is usually in\r
+unimportant matters that there is a field for the observation ,\r
+and for the quick analysis of cause and effect which gives the\r
+charm to an investigation . The larger crimes are apt to be the\r
+simpler , for the bigger the crime the more obvious , as a rule , is\r
+the motive . In these cases , save for one rather intricate matter\r
+which has been referred to me from Marseilles , there is nothing\r
+which presents any features of interest . It is possible , however ,\r
+that I may have something better before very many minutes are\r
+over , for this is one of my clients , or I am much mistaken "\r
+\r
+He had risen from his chair and was standing between the parted\r
+blinds gazing down into the dull neutral - tinted London street .\r
+Looking over his shoulder , I saw that on the pavement opposite\r
+there stood a large woman with a heavy fur boa round her neck ,\r
+and a large curling red feather in a broad - brimmed hat which was\r
+tilted in a coquettish Duchess of Devonshire fashion over her\r
+ear . From under this great panoply she peeped up in a nervous ,\r
+hesitating fashion at our windows , while her body oscillated\r
+backward and forward , and her fingers fidgeted with her glove\r
+buttons . Suddenly , with a plunge , as of the swimmer who leaves\r
+the bank , she hurried across the road , and we heard the sharp\r
+clang of the bell .\r
+\r
+" I have seen those symptoms before " said Holmes , throwing his\r
+cigarette into the fire . " Oscillation upon the pavement always\r
+means an affaire de coeur . She would like advice , but is not sure\r
+that the matter is not too delicate for communication . And yet\r
+even here we may discriminate . When a woman has been seriously\r
+wronged by a man she no longer oscillates , and the usual symptom\r
+is a broken bell wire . Here we may take it that there is a love\r
+matter , but that the maiden is not so much angry as perplexed , or\r
+grieved . But here she comes in person to resolve our doubts "\r
+\r
+As he spoke there was a tap at the door , and the boy in buttons\r
+entered to announce Miss Mary Sutherland , while the lady herself\r
+loomed behind his small black figure like a full - sailed\r
+merchant - man behind a tiny pilot boat . Sherlock Holmes welcomed\r
+her with the easy courtesy for which he was remarkable , and ,\r
+having closed the door and bowed her into an armchair , he looked\r
+her over in the minute and yet abstracted fashion which was\r
+peculiar to him .\r
+\r
+" Do you not find " he said , " that with your short sight it is a\r
+little trying to do so much typewriting "\r
+\r
+" I did at first " she answered , " but now I know where the letters\r
+are without looking " Then , suddenly realising the full purport\r
+of his words , she gave a violent start and looked up , with fear\r
+and astonishment upon her broad , good - humoured face . " You ' ve\r
+heard about me , Mr . Holmes " she cried , " else how could you know\r
+all that "\r
+\r
+" Never mind " said Holmes , laughing ; " it is my business to know\r
+things . Perhaps I have trained myself to see what others\r
+overlook . If not , why should you come to consult me "\r
+\r
+" I came to you , sir , because I heard of you from Mrs . Etherege ,\r
+whose husband you found so easy when the police and everyone had\r
+given him up for dead . Oh , Mr . Holmes , I wish you would do as\r
+much for me . I ' m not rich , but still I have a hundred a year in\r
+my own right , besides the little that I make by the machine , and\r
+I would give it all to know what has become of Mr . Hosmer Angel "\r
+\r
+" Why did you come away to consult me in such a hurry " asked\r
+Sherlock Holmes , with his finger - tips together and his eyes to\r
+the ceiling .\r
+\r
+Again a startled look came over the somewhat vacuous face of Miss\r
+Mary Sutherland . " Yes , I did bang out of the house " she said ,\r
+" for it made me angry to see the easy way in which Mr .\r
+Windibank - that is , my father - took it all . He would not go to\r
+the police , and he would not go to you , and so at last , as he\r
+would do nothing and kept on saying that there was no harm done ,\r
+it made me mad , and I just on with my things and came right away\r
+to you "\r
+\r
+" Your father " said Holmes , " your stepfather , surely , since the\r
+name is different "\r
+\r
+" Yes , my stepfather . I call him father , though it sounds funny ,\r
+too , for he is only five years and two months older than myself "\r
+\r
+" And your mother is alive "\r
+\r
+" Oh , yes , mother is alive and well . I wasn't best pleased , Mr .\r
+Holmes , when she married again so soon after father's death , and\r
+a man who was nearly fifteen years younger than herself . Father\r
+was a plumber in the Tottenham Court Road , and he left a tidy\r
+business behind him , which mother carried on with Mr . Hardy , the\r
+foreman ; but when Mr . Windibank came he made her sell the\r
+business , for he was very superior , being a traveller in wines .\r
+They got 4700 pounds for the goodwill and interest , which wasn ' t\r
+near as much as father could have got if he had been alive "\r
+\r
+I had expected to see Sherlock Holmes impatient under this\r
+rambling and inconsequential narrative , but , on the contrary , he\r
+had listened with the greatest concentration of attention .\r
+\r
+" Your own little income " he asked , " does it come out of the\r
+business "\r
+\r
+" Oh , no , sir . It is quite separate and was left me by my uncle\r
+Ned in Auckland . It is in New Zealand stock , paying 4 1 / 2 per\r
+cent . Two thousand five hundred pounds was the amount , but I can\r
+only touch the interest "\r
+\r
+" You interest me extremely " said Holmes . " And since you draw so\r
+large a sum as a hundred a year , with what you earn into the\r
+bargain , you no doubt travel a little and indulge yourself in\r
+every way . I believe that a single lady can get on very nicely\r
+upon an income of about 60 pounds "\r
+\r
+" I could do with much less than that , Mr . Holmes , but you\r
+understand that as long as I live at home I don't wish to be a\r
+burden to them , and so they have the use of the money just while\r
+I am staying with them . Of course , that is only just for the\r
+time . Mr . Windibank draws my interest every quarter and pays it\r
+over to mother , and I find that I can do pretty well with what I\r
+earn at typewriting . It brings me twopence a sheet , and I can\r
+often do from fifteen to twenty sheets in a day "\r
+\r
+" You have made your position very clear to me " said Holmes .\r
+" This is my friend , Dr . Watson , before whom you can speak as\r
+freely as before myself . Kindly tell us now all about your\r
+connection with Mr . Hosmer Angel "\r
+\r
+A flush stole over Miss Sutherland's face , and she picked\r
+nervously at the fringe of her jacket . " I met him first at the\r
+gasfitters ' ball " she said . " They used to send father tickets\r
+when he was alive , and then afterwards they remembered us , and\r
+sent them to mother . Mr . Windibank did not wish us to go . He\r
+never did wish us to go anywhere . He would get quite mad if I\r
+wanted so much as to join a Sunday - school treat . But this time I\r
+was set on going , and I would go ; for what right had he to\r
+prevent ? He said the folk were not fit for us to know , when all\r
+father's friends were to be there . And he said that I had nothing\r
+fit to wear , when I had my purple plush that I had never so much\r
+as taken out of the drawer . At last , when nothing else would do ,\r
+he went off to France upon the business of the firm , but we went ,\r
+mother and I , with Mr . Hardy , who used to be our foreman , and it\r
+was there I met Mr . Hosmer Angel "\r
+\r
+" I suppose " said Holmes , " that when Mr . Windibank came back from\r
+France he was very annoyed at your having gone to the ball "\r
+\r
+" Oh , well , he was very good about it . He laughed , I remember , and\r
+shrugged his shoulders , and said there was no use denying\r
+anything to a woman , for she would have her way "\r
+\r
+" I see . Then at the gasfitters ' ball you met , as I understand , a\r
+gentleman called Mr . Hosmer Angel "\r
+\r
+" Yes , sir . I met him that night , and he called next day to ask if\r
+we had got home all safe , and after that we met him - that is to\r
+say , Mr . Holmes , I met him twice for walks , but after that father\r
+came back again , and Mr . Hosmer Angel could not come to the house\r
+any more "\r
+\r
+" No "\r
+\r
+" Well , you know father didn't like anything of the sort . He\r
+wouldn't have any visitors if he could help it , and he used to\r
+say that a woman should be happy in her own family circle . But\r
+then , as I used to say to mother , a woman wants her own circle to\r
+begin with , and I had not got mine yet "\r
+\r
+" But how about Mr . Hosmer Angel ? Did he make no attempt to see\r
+you "\r
+\r
+" Well , father was going off to France again in a week , and Hosmer\r
+wrote and said that it would be safer and better not to see each\r
+other until he had gone . We could write in the meantime , and he\r
+used to write every day . I took the letters in in the morning , so\r
+there was no need for father to know "\r
+\r
+" Were you engaged to the gentleman at this time "\r
+\r
+" Oh , yes , Mr . Holmes . We were engaged after the first walk that\r
+we took . Hosmer - Mr . Angel - was a cashier in an office in\r
+Leadenhall Street - and -"\r
+\r
+" What office "\r
+\r
+" That's the worst of it , Mr . Holmes , I don't know "\r
+\r
+" Where did he live , then "\r
+\r
+" He slept on the premises "\r
+\r
+" And you don't know his address "\r
+\r
+" No - except that it was Leadenhall Street "\r
+\r
+" Where did you address your letters , then "\r
+\r
+" To the Leadenhall Street Post Office , to be left till called\r
+for . He said that if they were sent to the office he would be\r
+chaffed by all the other clerks about having letters from a lady ,\r
+so I offered to typewrite them , like he did his , but he wouldn ' t\r
+have that , for he said that when I wrote them they seemed to come\r
+from me , but when they were typewritten he always felt that the\r
+machine had come between us . That will just show you how fond he\r
+was of me , Mr . Holmes , and the little things that he would think\r
+of "\r
+\r
+" It was most suggestive " said Holmes . " It has long been an axiom\r
+of mine that the little things are infinitely the most important .\r
+Can you remember any other little things about Mr . Hosmer Angel "\r
+\r
+" He was a very shy man , Mr . Holmes . He would rather walk with me\r
+in the evening than in the daylight , for he said that he hated to\r
+be conspicuous . Very retiring and gentlemanly he was . Even his\r
+voice was gentle . He ' d had the quinsy and swollen glands when he\r
+was young , he told me , and it had left him with a weak throat ,\r
+and a hesitating , whispering fashion of speech . He was always\r
+well dressed , very neat and plain , but his eyes were weak , just\r
+as mine are , and he wore tinted glasses against the glare "\r
+\r
+" Well , and what happened when Mr . Windibank , your stepfather ,\r
+returned to France "\r
+\r
+" Mr . Hosmer Angel came to the house again and proposed that we\r
+should marry before father came back . He was in dreadful earnest\r
+and made me swear , with my hands on the Testament , that whatever\r
+happened I would always be true to him . Mother said he was quite\r
+right to make me swear , and that it was a sign of his passion .\r
+Mother was all in his favour from the first and was even fonder\r
+of him than I was . Then , when they talked of marrying within the\r
+week , I began to ask about father ; but they both said never to\r
+mind about father , but just to tell him afterwards , and mother\r
+said she would make it all right with him . I didn't quite like\r
+that , Mr . Holmes . It seemed funny that I should ask his leave , as\r
+he was only a few years older than me ; but I didn't want to do\r
+anything on the sly , so I wrote to father at Bordeaux , where the\r
+company has its French offices , but the letter came back to me on\r
+the very morning of the wedding "\r
+\r
+" It missed him , then "\r
+\r
+" Yes , sir ; for he had started to England just before it arrived "\r
+\r
+" Ha ! that was unfortunate . Your wedding was arranged , then , for\r
+the Friday . Was it to be in church "\r
+\r
+" Yes , sir , but very quietly . It was to be at St . Saviour's , near\r
+King's Cross , and we were to have breakfast afterwards at the St .\r
+Pancras Hotel . Hosmer came for us in a hansom , but as there were\r
+two of us he put us both into it and stepped himself into a\r
+four - wheeler , which happened to be the only other cab in the\r
+street . We got to the church first , and when the four - wheeler\r
+drove up we waited for him to step out , but he never did , and\r
+when the cabman got down from the box and looked there was no one\r
+there ! The cabman said that he could not imagine what had become\r
+of him , for he had seen him get in with his own eyes . That was\r
+last Friday , Mr . Holmes , and I have never seen or heard anything\r
+since then to throw any light upon what became of him "\r
+\r
+" It seems to me that you have been very shamefully treated " said\r
+Holmes .\r
+\r
+" Oh , no , sir ! He was too good and kind to leave me so . Why , all\r
+the morning he was saying to me that , whatever happened , I was to\r
+be true ; and that even if something quite unforeseen occurred to\r
+separate us , I was always to remember that I was pledged to him ,\r
+and that he would claim his pledge sooner or later . It seemed\r
+strange talk for a wedding - morning , but what has happened since\r
+gives a meaning to it "\r
+\r
+" Most certainly it does . Your own opinion is , then , that some\r
+unforeseen catastrophe has occurred to him "\r
+\r
+" Yes , sir . I believe that he foresaw some danger , or else he\r
+would not have talked so . And then I think that what he foresaw\r
+happened "\r
+\r
+" But you have no notion as to what it could have been "\r
+\r
+" None "\r
+\r
+" One more question . How did your mother take the matter "\r
+\r
+" She was angry , and said that I was never to speak of the matter\r
+again "\r
+\r
+" And your father ? Did you tell him "\r
+\r
+" Yes ; and he seemed to think , with me , that something had\r
+happened , and that I should hear of Hosmer again . As he said ,\r
+what interest could anyone have in bringing me to the doors of\r
+the church , and then leaving me ? Now , if he had borrowed my\r
+money , or if he had married me and got my money settled on him ,\r
+there might be some reason , but Hosmer was very independent about\r
+money and never would look at a shilling of mine . And yet , what\r
+could have happened ? And why could he not write ? Oh , it drives me\r
+half - mad to think of it , and I can't sleep a wink at night " She\r
+pulled a little handkerchief out of her muff and began to sob\r
+heavily into it .\r
+\r
+" I shall glance into the case for you " said Holmes , rising , " and\r
+I have no doubt that we shall reach some definite result . Let the\r
+weight of the matter rest upon me now , and do not let your mind\r
+dwell upon it further . Above all , try to let Mr . Hosmer Angel\r
+vanish from your memory , as he has done from your life "\r
+\r
+" Then you don't think I ' ll see him again "\r
+\r
+" I fear not "\r
+\r
+" Then what has happened to him "\r
+\r
+" You will leave that question in my hands . I should like an\r
+accurate description of him and any letters of his which you can\r
+spare "\r
+\r
+" I advertised for him in last Saturday's Chronicle " said she .\r
+" Here is the slip and here are four letters from him "\r
+\r
+" Thank you . And your address "\r
+\r
+" No . 31 Lyon Place , Camberwell "\r
+\r
+" Mr . Angel's address you never had , I understand . Where is your\r
+father's place of business "\r
+\r
+" He travels for Westhouse & Marbank , the great claret importers\r
+of Fenchurch Street "\r
+\r
+" Thank you . You have made your statement very clearly . You will\r
+leave the papers here , and remember the advice which I have given\r
+you . Let the whole incident be a sealed book , and do not allow it\r
+to affect your life "\r
+\r
+" You are very kind , Mr . Holmes , but I cannot do that . I shall be\r
+true to Hosmer . He shall find me ready when he comes back "\r
+\r
+For all the preposterous hat and the vacuous face , there was\r
+something noble in the simple faith of our visitor which\r
+compelled our respect . She laid her little bundle of papers upon\r
+the table and went her way , with a promise to come again whenever\r
+she might be summoned .\r
+\r
+Sherlock Holmes sat silent for a few minutes with his fingertips\r
+still pressed together , his legs stretched out in front of him ,\r
+and his gaze directed upward to the ceiling . Then he took down\r
+from the rack the old and oily clay pipe , which was to him as a\r
+counsellor , and , having lit it , he leaned back in his chair , with\r
+the thick blue cloud - wreaths spinning up from him , and a look of\r
+infinite languor in his face .\r
+\r
+" Quite an interesting study , that maiden " he observed . " I found\r
+her more interesting than her little problem , which , by the way ,\r
+is rather a trite one . You will find parallel cases , if you\r
+consult my index , in Andover in ' 77 , and there was something of\r
+the sort at The Hague last year . Old as is the idea , however ,\r
+there were one or two details which were new to me . But the\r
+maiden herself was most instructive "\r
+\r
+" You appeared to read a good deal upon her which was quite\r
+invisible to me " I remarked .\r
+\r
+" Not invisible but unnoticed , Watson . You did not know where to\r
+look , and so you missed all that was important . I can never bring\r
+you to realise the importance of sleeves , the suggestiveness of\r
+thumb - nails , or the great issues that may hang from a boot - lace .\r
+Now , what did you gather from that woman's appearance ? Describe\r
+it "\r
+\r
+" Well , she had a slate - coloured , broad - brimmed straw hat , with a\r
+feather of a brickish red . Her jacket was black , with black beads\r
+sewn upon it , and a fringe of little black jet ornaments . Her\r
+dress was brown , rather darker than coffee colour , with a little\r
+purple plush at the neck and sleeves . Her gloves were greyish and\r
+were worn through at the right forefinger . Her boots I didn ' t\r
+observe . She had small round , hanging gold earrings , and a\r
+general air of being fairly well - to - do in a vulgar , comfortable ,\r
+easy - going way "\r
+\r
+Sherlock Holmes clapped his hands softly together and chuckled .\r
+\r
+ ' Pon my word , Watson , you are coming along wonderfully . You have\r
+really done very well indeed . It is true that you have missed\r
+everything of importance , but you have hit upon the method , and\r
+you have a quick eye for colour . Never trust to general\r
+impressions , my boy , but concentrate yourself upon details . My\r
+first glance is always at a woman's sleeve . In a man it is\r
+perhaps better first to take the knee of the trouser . As you\r
+observe , this woman had plush upon her sleeves , which is a most\r
+useful material for showing traces . The double line a little\r
+above the wrist , where the typewritist presses against the table ,\r
+was beautifully defined . The sewing - machine , of the hand type ,\r
+leaves a similar mark , but only on the left arm , and on the side\r
+of it farthest from the thumb , instead of being right across the\r
+broadest part , as this was . I then glanced at her face , and ,\r
+observing the dint of a pince - nez at either side of her nose , I\r
+ventured a remark upon short sight and typewriting , which seemed\r
+to surprise her "\r
+\r
+" It surprised me "\r
+\r
+" But , surely , it was obvious . I was then much surprised and\r
+interested on glancing down to observe that , though the boots\r
+which she was wearing were not unlike each other , they were\r
+really odd ones ; the one having a slightly decorated toe - cap , and\r
+the other a plain one . One was buttoned only in the two lower\r
+buttons out of five , and the other at the first , third , and\r
+fifth . Now , when you see that a young lady , otherwise neatly\r
+dressed , has come away from home with odd boots , half - buttoned ,\r
+it is no great deduction to say that she came away in a hurry "\r
+\r
+" And what else " I asked , keenly interested , as I always was , by\r
+my friend's incisive reasoning .\r
+\r
+" I noted , in passing , that she had written a note before leaving\r
+home but after being fully dressed . You observed that her right\r
+glove was torn at the forefinger , but you did not apparently see\r
+that both glove and finger were stained with violet ink . She had\r
+written in a hurry and dipped her pen too deep . It must have been\r
+this morning , or the mark would not remain clear upon the finger .\r
+All this is amusing , though rather elementary , but I must go back\r
+to business , Watson . Would you mind reading me the advertised\r
+description of Mr . Hosmer Angel "\r
+\r
+I held the little printed slip to the light .\r
+\r
+" Missing " it said , " on the morning of the fourteenth , a gentleman\r
+named Hosmer Angel . About five ft . seven in . in height ;\r
+strongly built , sallow complexion , black hair , a little bald in\r
+the centre , bushy , black side - whiskers and moustache ; tinted\r
+glasses , slight infirmity of speech . Was dressed , when last seen ,\r
+in black frock - coat faced with silk , black waistcoat , gold Albert\r
+chain , and grey Harris tweed trousers , with brown gaiters over\r
+elastic - sided boots . Known to have been employed in an office in\r
+Leadenhall Street . Anybody bringing -"\r
+\r
+" That will do " said Holmes . " As to the letters " he continued ,\r
+glancing over them , " they are very commonplace . Absolutely no\r
+clue in them to Mr . Angel , save that he quotes Balzac once . There\r
+is one remarkable point , however , which will no doubt strike\r
+you "\r
+\r
+" They are typewritten " I remarked .\r
+\r
+" Not only that , but the signature is typewritten . Look at the\r
+neat little ' Hosmer Angel ' at the bottom . There is a date , you\r
+see , but no superscription except Leadenhall Street , which is\r
+rather vague . The point about the signature is very suggestive - in\r
+fact , we may call it conclusive "\r
+\r
+" Of what "\r
+\r
+" My dear fellow , is it possible you do not see how strongly it\r
+bears upon the case "\r
+\r
+" I cannot say that I do unless it were that he wished to be able\r
+to deny his signature if an action for breach of promise were\r
+instituted "\r
+\r
+" No , that was not the point . However , I shall write two letters ,\r
+which should settle the matter . One is to a firm in the City , the\r
+other is to the young lady's stepfather , Mr . Windibank , asking\r
+him whether he could meet us here at six o'clock tomorrow\r
+evening . It is just as well that we should do business with the\r
+male relatives . And now , Doctor , we can do nothing until the\r
+answers to those letters come , so we may put our little problem\r
+upon the shelf for the interim "\r
+\r
+I had had so many reasons to believe in my friend's subtle powers\r
+of reasoning and extraordinary energy in action that I felt that\r
+he must have some solid grounds for the assured and easy\r
+demeanour with which he treated the singular mystery which he had\r
+been called upon to fathom . Once only had I known him to fail , in\r
+the case of the King of Bohemia and of the Irene Adler\r
+photograph ; but when I looked back to the weird business of the\r
+Sign of Four , and the extraordinary circumstances connected with\r
+the Study in Scarlet , I felt that it would be a strange tangle\r
+indeed which he could not unravel .\r
+\r
+I left him then , still puffing at his black clay pipe , with the\r
+conviction that when I came again on the next evening I would\r
+find that he held in his hands all the clues which would lead up\r
+to the identity of the disappearing bridegroom of Miss Mary\r
+Sutherland .\r
+\r
+A professional case of great gravity was engaging my own\r
+attention at the time , and the whole of next day I was busy at\r
+the bedside of the sufferer . It was not until close upon six\r
+o'clock that I found myself free and was able to spring into a\r
+hansom and drive to Baker Street , half afraid that I might be too\r
+late to assist at the denouement of the little mystery . I found\r
+Sherlock Holmes alone , however , half asleep , with his long , thin\r
+form curled up in the recesses of his armchair . A formidable\r
+array of bottles and test - tubes , with the pungent cleanly smell\r
+of hydrochloric acid , told me that he had spent his day in the\r
+chemical work which was so dear to him .\r
+\r
+" Well , have you solved it " I asked as I entered .\r
+\r
+" Yes . It was the bisulphate of baryta "\r
+\r
+" No , no , the mystery " I cried .\r
+\r
+" Oh , that ! I thought of the salt that I have been working upon .\r
+There was never any mystery in the matter , though , as I said\r
+yesterday , some of the details are of interest . The only drawback\r
+is that there is no law , I fear , that can touch the scoundrel "\r
+\r
+" Who was he , then , and what was his object in deserting Miss\r
+Sutherland "\r
+\r
+The question was hardly out of my mouth , and Holmes had not yet\r
+opened his lips to reply , when we heard a heavy footfall in the\r
+passage and a tap at the door .\r
+\r
+" This is the girl's stepfather , Mr . James Windibank " said\r
+Holmes . " He has written to me to say that he would be here at\r
+six . Come in "\r
+\r
+The man who entered was a sturdy , middle - sized fellow , some\r
+thirty years of age , clean - shaven , and sallow - skinned , with a\r
+bland , insinuating manner , and a pair of wonderfully sharp and\r
+penetrating grey eyes . He shot a questioning glance at each of\r
+us , placed his shiny top - hat upon the sideboard , and with a\r
+slight bow sidled down into the nearest chair .\r
+\r
+" Good - evening , Mr . James Windibank " said Holmes . " I think that\r
+this typewritten letter is from you , in which you made an\r
+appointment with me for six o'clock "\r
+\r
+" Yes , sir . I am afraid that I am a little late , but I am not\r
+quite my own master , you know . I am sorry that Miss Sutherland\r
+has troubled you about this little matter , for I think it is far\r
+better not to wash linen of the sort in public . It was quite\r
+against my wishes that she came , but she is a very excitable ,\r
+impulsive girl , as you may have noticed , and she is not easily\r
+controlled when she has made up her mind on a point . Of course , I\r
+did not mind you so much , as you are not connected with the\r
+official police , but it is not pleasant to have a family\r
+misfortune like this noised abroad . Besides , it is a useless\r
+expense , for how could you possibly find this Hosmer Angel "\r
+\r
+" On the contrary " said Holmes quietly ; " I have every reason to\r
+believe that I will succeed in discovering Mr . Hosmer Angel "\r
+\r
+Mr . Windibank gave a violent start and dropped his gloves . " I am\r
+delighted to hear it " he said .\r
+\r
+" It is a curious thing " remarked Holmes , " that a typewriter has\r
+really quite as much individuality as a man's handwriting . Unless\r
+they are quite new , no two of them write exactly alike . Some\r
+letters get more worn than others , and some wear only on one\r
+side . Now , you remark in this note of yours , Mr . Windibank , that\r
+in every case there is some little slurring over of the ' e ' and\r
+a slight defect in the tail of the ' r ' There are fourteen other\r
+characteristics , but those are the more obvious "\r
+\r
+" We do all our correspondence with this machine at the office ,\r
+and no doubt it is a little worn " our visitor answered , glancing\r
+keenly at Holmes with his bright little eyes .\r
+\r
+" And now I will show you what is really a very interesting study ,\r
+Mr . Windibank " Holmes continued . " I think of writing another\r
+little monograph some of these days on the typewriter and its\r
+relation to crime . It is a subject to which I have devoted some\r
+little attention . I have here four letters which purport to come\r
+from the missing man . They are all typewritten . In each case , not\r
+only are the ' e's ' slurred and the ' r's ' tailless , but you will\r
+observe , if you care to use my magnifying lens , that the fourteen\r
+other characteristics to which I have alluded are there as well "\r
+\r
+Mr . Windibank sprang out of his chair and picked up his hat . " I\r
+cannot waste time over this sort of fantastic talk , Mr . Holmes "\r
+he said . " If you can catch the man , catch him , and let me know\r
+when you have done it "\r
+\r
+" Certainly " said Holmes , stepping over and turning the key in\r
+the door . " I let you know , then , that I have caught him "\r
+\r
+" What ! where " shouted Mr . Windibank , turning white to his lips\r
+and glancing about him like a rat in a trap .\r
+\r
+" Oh , it won't do - really it won't " said Holmes suavely . " There\r
+is no possible getting out of it , Mr . Windibank . It is quite too\r
+transparent , and it was a very bad compliment when you said that\r
+it was impossible for me to solve so simple a question . That's\r
+right ! Sit down and let us talk it over "\r
+\r
+Our visitor collapsed into a chair , with a ghastly face and a\r
+glitter of moisture on his brow . " It - it's not actionable " he\r
+stammered .\r
+\r
+" I am very much afraid that it is not . But between ourselves ,\r
+Windibank , it was as cruel and selfish and heartless a trick in a\r
+petty way as ever came before me . Now , let me just run over the\r
+course of events , and you will contradict me if I go wrong "\r
+\r
+The man sat huddled up in his chair , with his head sunk upon his\r
+breast , like one who is utterly crushed . Holmes stuck his feet up\r
+on the corner of the mantelpiece and , leaning back with his hands\r
+in his pockets , began talking , rather to himself , as it seemed ,\r
+than to us .\r
+\r
+" The man married a woman very much older than himself for her\r
+money " said he , " and he enjoyed the use of the money of the\r
+daughter as long as she lived with them . It was a considerable\r
+sum , for people in their position , and the loss of it would have\r
+made a serious difference . It was worth an effort to preserve it .\r
+The daughter was of a good , amiable disposition , but affectionate\r
+and warm - hearted in her ways , so that it was evident that with\r
+her fair personal advantages , and her little income , she would\r
+not be allowed to remain single long . Now her marriage would\r
+mean , of course , the loss of a hundred a year , so what does her\r
+stepfather do to prevent it ? He takes the obvious course of\r
+keeping her at home and forbidding her to seek the company of\r
+people of her own age . But soon he found that that would not\r
+answer forever . She became restive , insisted upon her rights , and\r
+finally announced her positive intention of going to a certain\r
+ball . What does her clever stepfather do then ? He conceives an\r
+idea more creditable to his head than to his heart . With the\r
+connivance and assistance of his wife he disguised himself ,\r
+covered those keen eyes with tinted glasses , masked the face with\r
+a moustache and a pair of bushy whiskers , sunk that clear voice\r
+into an insinuating whisper , and doubly secure on account of the\r
+girl's short sight , he appears as Mr . Hosmer Angel , and keeps off\r
+other lovers by making love himself "\r
+\r
+" It was only a joke at first " groaned our visitor . " We never\r
+thought that she would have been so carried away "\r
+\r
+" Very likely not . However that may be , the young lady was very\r
+decidedly carried away , and , having quite made up her mind that\r
+her stepfather was in France , the suspicion of treachery never\r
+for an instant entered her mind . She was flattered by the\r
+gentleman's attentions , and the effect was increased by the\r
+loudly expressed admiration of her mother . Then Mr . Angel began\r
+to call , for it was obvious that the matter should be pushed as\r
+far as it would go if a real effect were to be produced . There\r
+were meetings , and an engagement , which would finally secure the\r
+girl's affections from turning towards anyone else . But the\r
+deception could not be kept up forever . These pretended journeys\r
+to France were rather cumbrous . The thing to do was clearly to\r
+bring the business to an end in such a dramatic manner that it\r
+would leave a permanent impression upon the young lady's mind and\r
+prevent her from looking upon any other suitor for some time to\r
+come . Hence those vows of fidelity exacted upon a Testament , and\r
+hence also the allusions to a possibility of something happening\r
+on the very morning of the wedding . James Windibank wished Miss\r
+Sutherland to be so bound to Hosmer Angel , and so uncertain as to\r
+his fate , that for ten years to come , at any rate , she would not\r
+listen to another man . As far as the church door he brought her ,\r
+and then , as he could go no farther , he conveniently vanished\r
+away by the old trick of stepping in at one door of a\r
+four - wheeler and out at the other . I think that was the chain of\r
+events , Mr . Windibank "\r
+\r
+Our visitor had recovered something of his assurance while Holmes\r
+had been talking , and he rose from his chair now with a cold\r
+sneer upon his pale face .\r
+\r
+" It may be so , or it may not , Mr . Holmes " said he , " but if you\r
+are so very sharp you ought to be sharp enough to know that it is\r
+you who are breaking the law now , and not me . I have done nothing\r
+actionable from the first , but as long as you keep that door\r
+locked you lay yourself open to an action for assault and illegal\r
+constraint "\r
+\r
+" The law cannot , as you say , touch you " said Holmes , unlocking\r
+and throwing open the door , " yet there never was a man who\r
+deserved punishment more . If the young lady has a brother or a\r
+friend , he ought to lay a whip across your shoulders . By Jove "\r
+he continued , flushing up at the sight of the bitter sneer upon\r
+the man's face , " it is not part of my duties to my client , but\r
+here's a hunting crop handy , and I think I shall just treat\r
+myself to -" He took two swift steps to the whip , but before he\r
+could grasp it there was a wild clatter of steps upon the stairs ,\r
+the heavy hall door banged , and from the window we could see Mr .\r
+James Windibank running at the top of his speed down the road .\r
+\r
+" There's a cold - blooded scoundrel " said Holmes , laughing , as he\r
+threw himself down into his chair once more . " That fellow will\r
+rise from crime to crime until he does something very bad , and\r
+ends on a gallows . The case has , in some respects , been not\r
+entirely devoid of interest "\r
+\r
+" I cannot now entirely see all the steps of your reasoning " I\r
+remarked .\r
+\r
+" Well , of course it was obvious from the first that this Mr .\r
+Hosmer Angel must have some strong object for his curious\r
+conduct , and it was equally clear that the only man who really\r
+profited by the incident , as far as we could see , was the\r
+stepfather . Then the fact that the two men were never together ,\r
+but that the one always appeared when the other was away , was\r
+suggestive . So were the tinted spectacles and the curious voice ,\r
+which both hinted at a disguise , as did the bushy whiskers . My\r
+suspicions were all confirmed by his peculiar action in\r
+typewriting his signature , which , of course , inferred that his\r
+handwriting was so familiar to her that she would recognise even\r
+the smallest sample of it . You see all these isolated facts ,\r
+together with many minor ones , all pointed in the same\r
+direction "\r
+\r
+" And how did you verify them "\r
+\r
+" Having once spotted my man , it was easy to get corroboration . I\r
+knew the firm for which this man worked . Having taken the printed\r
+description . I eliminated everything from it which could be the\r
+result of a disguise - the whiskers , the glasses , the voice , and I\r
+sent it to the firm , with a request that they would inform me\r
+whether it answered to the description of any of their\r
+travellers . I had already noticed the peculiarities of the\r
+typewriter , and I wrote to the man himself at his business\r
+address asking him if he would come here . As I expected , his\r
+reply was typewritten and revealed the same trivial but\r
+characteristic defects . The same post brought me a letter from\r
+Westhouse & Marbank , of Fenchurch Street , to say that the\r
+description tallied in every respect with that of their employe ,\r
+James Windibank . Voila tout "\r
+\r
+" And Miss Sutherland "\r
+\r
+" If I tell her she will not believe me . You may remember the old\r
+Persian saying , ' There is danger for him who taketh the tiger\r
+cub , and danger also for whoso snatches a delusion from a woman '\r
+There is as much sense in Hafiz as in Horace , and as much\r
+knowledge of the world "\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+ADVENTURE IV . THE BOSCOMBE VALLEY MYSTERY\r
+\r
+We were seated at breakfast one morning , my wife and I , when the\r
+maid brought in a telegram . It was from Sherlock Holmes and ran\r
+in this way :\r
+\r
+" Have you a couple of days to spare ? Have just been wired for from\r
+the west of England in connection with Boscombe Valley tragedy .\r
+Shall be glad if you will come with me . Air and scenery perfect .\r
+Leave Paddington by the 11 : 15 "\r
+\r
+" What do you say , dear " said my wife , looking across at me .\r
+" Will you go "\r
+\r
+" I really don't know what to say . I have a fairly long list at\r
+present "\r
+\r
+" Oh , Anstruther would do your work for you . You have been looking\r
+a little pale lately . I think that the change would do you good ,\r
+and you are always so interested in Mr . Sherlock Holmes ' cases "\r
+\r
+" I should be ungrateful if I were not , seeing what I gained\r
+through one of them " I answered . " But if I am to go , I must pack\r
+at once , for I have only half an hour "\r
+\r
+My experience of camp life in Afghanistan had at least had the\r
+effect of making me a prompt and ready traveller . My wants were\r
+few and simple , so that in less than the time stated I was in a\r
+cab with my valise , rattling away to Paddington Station . Sherlock\r
+Holmes was pacing up and down the platform , his tall , gaunt\r
+figure made even gaunter and taller by his long grey\r
+travelling - cloak and close - fitting cloth cap .\r
+\r
+" It is really very good of you to come , Watson " said he . " It\r
+makes a considerable difference to me , having someone with me on\r
+whom I can thoroughly rely . Local aid is always either worthless\r
+or else biassed . If you will keep the two corner seats I shall\r
+get the tickets "\r
+\r
+We had the carriage to ourselves save for an immense litter of\r
+papers which Holmes had brought with him . Among these he rummaged\r
+and read , with intervals of note - taking and of meditation , until\r
+we were past Reading . Then he suddenly rolled them all into a\r
+gigantic ball and tossed them up onto the rack .\r
+\r
+" Have you heard anything of the case " he asked .\r
+\r
+" Not a word . I have not seen a paper for some days "\r
+\r
+" The London press has not had very full accounts . I have just\r
+been looking through all the recent papers in order to master the\r
+particulars . It seems , from what I gather , to be one of those\r
+simple cases which are so extremely difficult "\r
+\r
+" That sounds a little paradoxical "\r
+\r
+" But it is profoundly true . Singularity is almost invariably a\r
+clue . The more featureless and commonplace a crime is , the more\r
+difficult it is to bring it home . In this case , however , they\r
+have established a very serious case against the son of the\r
+murdered man "\r
+\r
+" It is a murder , then "\r
+\r
+" Well , it is conjectured to be so . I shall take nothing for\r
+granted until I have the opportunity of looking personally into\r
+it . I will explain the state of things to you , as far as I have\r
+been able to understand it , in a very few words .\r
+\r
+" Boscombe Valley is a country district not very far from Ross , in\r
+Herefordshire . The largest landed proprietor in that part is a\r
+Mr . John Turner , who made his money in Australia and returned\r
+some years ago to the old country . One of the farms which he\r
+held , that of Hatherley , was let to Mr . Charles McCarthy , who was\r
+also an ex - Australian . The men had known each other in the\r
+colonies , so that it was not unnatural that when they came to\r
+settle down they should do so as near each other as possible .\r
+Turner was apparently the richer man , so McCarthy became his\r
+tenant but still remained , it seems , upon terms of perfect\r
+equality , as they were frequently together . McCarthy had one son ,\r
+a lad of eighteen , and Turner had an only daughter of the same\r
+age , but neither of them had wives living . They appear to have\r
+avoided the society of the neighbouring English families and to\r
+have led retired lives , though both the McCarthys were fond of\r
+sport and were frequently seen at the race - meetings of the\r
+neighbourhood . McCarthy kept two servants - a man and a girl .\r
+Turner had a considerable household , some half - dozen at the\r
+least . That is as much as I have been able to gather about the\r
+families . Now for the facts .\r
+\r
+" On June 3rd , that is , on Monday last , McCarthy left his house at\r
+Hatherley about three in the afternoon and walked down to the\r
+Boscombe Pool , which is a small lake formed by the spreading out\r
+of the stream which runs down the Boscombe Valley . He had been\r
+out with his serving - man in the morning at Ross , and he had told\r
+the man that he must hurry , as he had an appointment of\r
+importance to keep at three . From that appointment he never came\r
+back alive .\r
+\r
+" From Hatherley Farm - house to the Boscombe Pool is a quarter of a\r
+mile , and two people saw him as he passed over this ground . One\r
+was an old woman , whose name is not mentioned , and the other was\r
+William Crowder , a game - keeper in the employ of Mr . Turner . Both\r
+these witnesses depose that Mr . McCarthy was walking alone . The\r
+game - keeper adds that within a few minutes of his seeing Mr .\r
+McCarthy pass he had seen his son , Mr . James McCarthy , going the\r
+same way with a gun under his arm . To the best of his belief , the\r
+father was actually in sight at the time , and the son was\r
+following him . He thought no more of the matter until he heard in\r
+the evening of the tragedy that had occurred .\r
+\r
+" The two McCarthys were seen after the time when William Crowder ,\r
+the game - keeper , lost sight of them . The Boscombe Pool is thickly\r
+wooded round , with just a fringe of grass and of reeds round the\r
+edge . A girl of fourteen , Patience Moran , who is the daughter of\r
+the lodge - keeper of the Boscombe Valley estate , was in one of the\r
+woods picking flowers . She states that while she was there she\r
+saw , at the border of the wood and close by the lake , Mr .\r
+McCarthy and his son , and that they appeared to be having a\r
+violent quarrel . She heard Mr . McCarthy the elder using very\r
+strong language to his son , and she saw the latter raise up his\r
+hand as if to strike his father . She was so frightened by their\r
+violence that she ran away and told her mother when she reached\r
+home that she had left the two McCarthys quarrelling near\r
+Boscombe Pool , and that she was afraid that they were going to\r
+fight . She had hardly said the words when young Mr . McCarthy came\r
+running up to the lodge to say that he had found his father dead\r
+in the wood , and to ask for the help of the lodge - keeper . He was\r
+much excited , without either his gun or his hat , and his right\r
+hand and sleeve were observed to be stained with fresh blood . On\r
+following him they found the dead body stretched out upon the\r
+grass beside the pool . The head had been beaten in by repeated\r
+blows of some heavy and blunt weapon . The injuries were such as\r
+might very well have been inflicted by the butt - end of his son's\r
+gun , which was found lying on the grass within a few paces of the\r
+body . Under these circumstances the young man was instantly\r
+arrested , and a verdict of ' wilful murder ' having been returned\r
+at the inquest on Tuesday , he was on Wednesday brought before the\r
+magistrates at Ross , who have referred the case to the next\r
+Assizes . Those are the main facts of the case as they came out\r
+before the coroner and the police - court "\r
+\r
+" I could hardly imagine a more damning case " I remarked . " If\r
+ever circumstantial evidence pointed to a criminal it does so\r
+here "\r
+\r
+" Circumstantial evidence is a very tricky thing " answered Holmes\r
+thoughtfully . " It may seem to point very straight to one thing ,\r
+but if you shift your own point of view a little , you may find it\r
+pointing in an equally uncompromising manner to something\r
+entirely different . It must be confessed , however , that the case\r
+looks exceedingly grave against the young man , and it is very\r
+possible that he is indeed the culprit . There are several people\r
+in the neighbourhood , however , and among them Miss Turner , the\r
+daughter of the neighbouring landowner , who believe in his\r
+innocence , and who have retained Lestrade , whom you may recollect\r
+in connection with the Study in Scarlet , to work out the case in\r
+his interest . Lestrade , being rather puzzled , has referred the\r
+case to me , and hence it is that two middle - aged gentlemen are\r
+flying westward at fifty miles an hour instead of quietly\r
+digesting their breakfasts at home "\r
+\r
+" I am afraid " said I , " that the facts are so obvious that you\r
+will find little credit to be gained out of this case "\r
+\r
+" There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact " he\r
+answered , laughing . " Besides , we may chance to hit upon some\r
+other obvious facts which may have been by no means obvious to\r
+Mr . Lestrade . You know me too well to think that I am boasting\r
+when I say that I shall either confirm or destroy his theory by\r
+means which he is quite incapable of employing , or even of\r
+understanding . To take the first example to hand , I very clearly\r
+perceive that in your bedroom the window is upon the right - hand\r
+side , and yet I question whether Mr . Lestrade would have noted\r
+even so self - evident a thing as that "\r
+\r
+" How on earth -"\r
+\r
+" My dear fellow , I know you well . I know the military neatness\r
+which characterises you . You shave every morning , and in this\r
+season you shave by the sunlight ; but since your shaving is less\r
+and less complete as we get farther back on the left side , until\r
+it becomes positively slovenly as we get round the angle of the\r
+jaw , it is surely very clear that that side is less illuminated\r
+than the other . I could not imagine a man of your habits looking\r
+at himself in an equal light and being satisfied with such a\r
+result . I only quote this as a trivial example of observation and\r
+inference . Therein lies my metier , and it is just possible that\r
+it may be of some service in the investigation which lies before\r
+us . There are one or two minor points which were brought out in\r
+the inquest , and which are worth considering "\r
+\r
+" What are they "\r
+\r
+" It appears that his arrest did not take place at once , but after\r
+the return to Hatherley Farm . On the inspector of constabulary\r
+informing him that he was a prisoner , he remarked that he was not\r
+surprised to hear it , and that it was no more than his deserts .\r
+This observation of his had the natural effect of removing any\r
+traces of doubt which might have remained in the minds of the\r
+coroner's jury "\r
+\r
+" It was a confession " I ejaculated .\r
+\r
+" No , for it was followed by a protestation of innocence "\r
+\r
+" Coming on the top of such a damning series of events , it was at\r
+least a most suspicious remark "\r
+\r
+" On the contrary " said Holmes , " it is the brightest rift which I\r
+can at present see in the clouds . However innocent he might be ,\r
+he could not be such an absolute imbecile as not to see that the\r
+circumstances were very black against him . Had he appeared\r
+surprised at his own arrest , or feigned indignation at it , I\r
+should have looked upon it as highly suspicious , because such\r
+surprise or anger would not be natural under the circumstances ,\r
+and yet might appear to be the best policy to a scheming man . His\r
+frank acceptance of the situation marks him as either an innocent\r
+man , or else as a man of considerable self - restraint and\r
+firmness . As to his remark about his deserts , it was also not\r
+unnatural if you consider that he stood beside the dead body of\r
+his father , and that there is no doubt that he had that very day\r
+so far forgotten his filial duty as to bandy words with him , and\r
+even , according to the little girl whose evidence is so\r
+important , to raise his hand as if to strike him . The\r
+self - reproach and contrition which are displayed in his remark\r
+appear to me to be the signs of a healthy mind rather than of a\r
+guilty one "\r
+\r
+I shook my head . " Many men have been hanged on far slighter\r
+evidence " I remarked .\r
+\r
+" So they have . And many men have been wrongfully hanged "\r
+\r
+" What is the young man's own account of the matter "\r
+\r
+" It is , I am afraid , not very encouraging to his supporters ,\r
+though there are one or two points in it which are suggestive .\r
+You will find it here , and may read it for yourself "\r
+\r
+He picked out from his bundle a copy of the local Herefordshire\r
+paper , and having turned down the sheet he pointed out the\r
+paragraph in which the unfortunate young man had given his own\r
+statement of what had occurred . I settled myself down in the\r
+corner of the carriage and read it very carefully . It ran in this\r
+way :\r
+\r
+" Mr . James McCarthy , the only son of the deceased , was then called\r
+and gave evidence as follows : ' I had been away from home for\r
+three days at Bristol , and had only just returned upon the\r
+morning of last Monday , the 3rd . My father was absent from home at\r
+the time of my arrival , and I was informed by the maid that he\r
+had driven over to Ross with John Cobb , the groom . Shortly after\r
+my return I heard the wheels of his trap in the yard , and ,\r
+looking out of my window , I saw him get out and walk rapidly out\r
+of the yard , though I was not aware in which direction he was\r
+going . I then took my gun and strolled out in the direction of\r
+the Boscombe Pool , with the intention of visiting the rabbit\r
+warren which is upon the other side . On my way I saw William\r
+Crowder , the game - keeper , as he had stated in his evidence ; but\r
+he is mistaken in thinking that I was following my father . I had\r
+no idea that he was in front of me . When about a hundred yards\r
+from the pool I heard a cry of " Cooee " which was a usual signal\r
+between my father and myself . I then hurried forward , and found\r
+him standing by the pool . He appeared to be much surprised at\r
+seeing me and asked me rather roughly what I was doing there . A\r
+conversation ensued which led to high words and almost to blows ,\r
+for my father was a man of a very violent temper . Seeing that his\r
+passion was becoming ungovernable , I left him and returned\r
+towards Hatherley Farm . I had not gone more than 150 yards ,\r
+however , when I heard a hideous outcry behind me , which caused me\r
+to run back again . I found my father expiring upon the ground ,\r
+with his head terribly injured . I dropped my gun and held him in\r
+my arms , but he almost instantly expired . I knelt beside him for\r
+some minutes , and then made my way to Mr . Turner's lodge - keeper ,\r
+his house being the nearest , to ask for assistance . I saw no one\r
+near my father when I returned , and I have no idea how he came by\r
+his injuries . He was not a popular man , being somewhat cold and\r
+forbidding in his manners , but he had , as far as I know , no\r
+active enemies . I know nothing further of the matter '\r
+\r
+" The Coroner : Did your father make any statement to you before\r
+he died ?\r
+\r
+" Witness : He mumbled a few words , but I could only catch some\r
+allusion to a rat .\r
+\r
+" The Coroner : What did you understand by that ?\r
+\r
+" Witness : It conveyed no meaning to me . I thought that he was\r
+delirious .\r
+\r
+" The Coroner : What was the point upon which you and your father\r
+had this final quarrel ?\r
+\r
+" Witness : I should prefer not to answer .\r
+\r
+" The Coroner : I am afraid that I must press it .\r
+\r
+" Witness : It is really impossible for me to tell you . I can\r
+assure you that it has nothing to do with the sad tragedy which\r
+followed .\r
+\r
+" The Coroner : That is for the court to decide . I need not point\r
+out to you that your refusal to answer will prejudice your case\r
+considerably in any future proceedings which may arise .\r
+\r
+" Witness : I must still refuse .\r
+\r
+" The Coroner : I understand that the cry of ' Cooee ' was a common\r
+signal between you and your father ?\r
+\r
+" Witness : It was .\r
+\r
+" The Coroner : How was it , then , that he uttered it before he saw\r
+you , and before he even knew that you had returned from Bristol ?\r
+\r
+" Witness ( with considerable confusion : I do not know .\r
+\r
+" A Juryman : Did you see nothing which aroused your suspicions\r
+when you returned on hearing the cry and found your father\r
+fatally injured ?\r
+\r
+" Witness : Nothing definite .\r
+\r
+" The Coroner : What do you mean ?\r
+\r
+" Witness : I was so disturbed and excited as I rushed out into\r
+the open , that I could think of nothing except of my father . Yet\r
+I have a vague impression that as I ran forward something lay\r
+upon the ground to the left of me . It seemed to me to be\r
+something grey in colour , a coat of some sort , or a plaid perhaps .\r
+When I rose from my father I looked round for it , but it was\r
+gone .\r
+\r
+ ' Do you mean that it disappeared before you went for help '\r
+\r
+ ' Yes , it was gone '\r
+\r
+ ' You cannot say what it was '\r
+\r
+ ' No , I had a feeling something was there '\r
+\r
+ ' How far from the body '\r
+\r
+ ' A dozen yards or so '\r
+\r
+ ' And how far from the edge of the wood '\r
+\r
+ ' About the same '\r
+\r
+ ' Then if it was removed it was while you were within a dozen\r
+yards of it '\r
+\r
+ ' Yes , but with my back towards it '\r
+\r
+" This concluded the examination of the witness "\r
+\r
+" I see " said I as I glanced down the column , " that the coroner\r
+in his concluding remarks was rather severe upon young McCarthy .\r
+He calls attention , and with reason , to the discrepancy about his\r
+father having signalled to him before seeing him , also to his\r
+refusal to give details of his conversation with his father , and\r
+his singular account of his father's dying words . They are all ,\r
+as he remarks , very much against the son "\r
+\r
+Holmes laughed softly to himself and stretched himself out upon\r
+the cushioned seat . " Both you and the coroner have been at some\r
+pains " said he , " to single out the very strongest points in the\r
+young man's favour . Don't you see that you alternately give him\r
+credit for having too much imagination and too little ? Too\r
+little , if he could not invent a cause of quarrel which would\r
+give him the sympathy of the jury ; too much , if he evolved from\r
+his own inner consciousness anything so outre as a dying\r
+reference to a rat , and the incident of the vanishing cloth . No ,\r
+sir , I shall approach this case from the point of view that what\r
+this young man says is true , and we shall see whither that\r
+hypothesis will lead us . And now here is my pocket Petrarch , and\r
+not another word shall I say of this case until we are on the\r
+scene of action . We lunch at Swindon , and I see that we shall be\r
+there in twenty minutes "\r
+\r
+It was nearly four o'clock when we at last , after passing through\r
+the beautiful Stroud Valley , and over the broad gleaming Severn ,\r
+found ourselves at the pretty little country - town of Ross . A\r
+lean , ferret - like man , furtive and sly - looking , was waiting for\r
+us upon the platform . In spite of the light brown dustcoat and\r
+leather - leggings which he wore in deference to his rustic\r
+surroundings , I had no difficulty in recognising Lestrade , of\r
+Scotland Yard . With him we drove to the Hereford Arms where a\r
+room had already been engaged for us .\r
+\r
+" I have ordered a carriage " said Lestrade as we sat over a cup\r
+of tea . " I knew your energetic nature , and that you would not be\r
+happy until you had been on the scene of the crime "\r
+\r
+" It was very nice and complimentary of you " Holmes answered . " It\r
+is entirely a question of barometric pressure "\r
+\r
+Lestrade looked startled . " I do not quite follow " he said .\r
+\r
+" How is the glass ? Twenty - nine , I see . No wind , and not a cloud\r
+in the sky . I have a caseful of cigarettes here which need\r
+smoking , and the sofa is very much superior to the usual country\r
+hotel abomination . I do not think that it is probable that I\r
+shall use the carriage to - night "\r
+\r
+Lestrade laughed indulgently . " You have , no doubt , already formed\r
+your conclusions from the newspapers " he said . " The case is as\r
+plain as a pikestaff , and the more one goes into it the plainer\r
+it becomes . Still , of course , one can't refuse a lady , and such a\r
+very positive one , too . She has heard of you , and would have your\r
+opinion , though I repeatedly told her that there was nothing\r
+which you could do which I had not already done . Why , bless my\r
+soul ! here is her carriage at the door "\r
+\r
+He had hardly spoken before there rushed into the room one of the\r
+most lovely young women that I have ever seen in my life . Her\r
+violet eyes shining , her lips parted , a pink flush upon her\r
+cheeks , all thought of her natural reserve lost in her\r
+overpowering excitement and concern .\r
+\r
+" Oh , Mr . Sherlock Holmes " she cried , glancing from one to the\r
+other of us , and finally , with a woman's quick intuition ,\r
+fastening upon my companion , " I am so glad that you have come . I\r
+have driven down to tell you so . I know that James didn't do it .\r
+I know it , and I want you to start upon your work knowing it ,\r
+too . Never let yourself doubt upon that point . We have known each\r
+other since we were little children , and I know his faults as no\r
+one else does ; but he is too tender - hearted to hurt a fly . Such a\r
+charge is absurd to anyone who really knows him "\r
+\r
+" I hope we may clear him , Miss Turner " said Sherlock Holmes .\r
+" You may rely upon my doing all that I can "\r
+\r
+" But you have read the evidence . You have formed some conclusion ?\r
+Do you not see some loophole , some flaw ? Do you not yourself\r
+think that he is innocent "\r
+\r
+" I think that it is very probable "\r
+\r
+" There , now " she cried , throwing back her head and looking\r
+defiantly at Lestrade . " You hear ! He gives me hopes "\r
+\r
+Lestrade shrugged his shoulders . " I am afraid that my colleague\r
+has been a little quick in forming his conclusions " he said .\r
+\r
+" But he is right . Oh ! I know that he is right . James never did\r
+it . And about his quarrel with his father , I am sure that the\r
+reason why he would not speak about it to the coroner was because\r
+I was concerned in it "\r
+\r
+" In what way " asked Holmes .\r
+\r
+" It is no time for me to hide anything . James and his father had\r
+many disagreements about me . Mr . McCarthy was very anxious that\r
+there should be a marriage between us . James and I have always\r
+loved each other as brother and sister ; but of course he is young\r
+and has seen very little of life yet , and - and - well , he\r
+naturally did not wish to do anything like that yet . So there\r
+were quarrels , and this , I am sure , was one of them "\r
+\r
+" And your father " asked Holmes . " Was he in favour of such a\r
+union "\r
+\r
+" No , he was averse to it also . No one but Mr . McCarthy was in\r
+favour of it " A quick blush passed over her fresh young face as\r
+Holmes shot one of his keen , questioning glances at her .\r
+\r
+" Thank you for this information " said he . " May I see your father\r
+if I call to - morrow "\r
+\r
+" I am afraid the doctor won't allow it "\r
+\r
+" The doctor "\r
+\r
+" Yes , have you not heard ? Poor father has never been strong for\r
+years back , but this has broken him down completely . He has taken\r
+to his bed , and Dr . Willows says that he is a wreck and that his\r
+nervous system is shattered . Mr . McCarthy was the only man alive\r
+who had known dad in the old days in Victoria "\r
+\r
+" Ha ! In Victoria ! That is important "\r
+\r
+" Yes , at the mines "\r
+\r
+" Quite so ; at the gold - mines , where , as I understand , Mr . Turner\r
+made his money "\r
+\r
+" Yes , certainly "\r
+\r
+" Thank you , Miss Turner . You have been of material assistance to\r
+me "\r
+\r
+" You will tell me if you have any news to - morrow . No doubt you\r
+will go to the prison to see James . Oh , if you do , Mr . Holmes , do\r
+tell him that I know him to be innocent "\r
+\r
+" I will , Miss Turner "\r
+\r
+" I must go home now , for dad is very ill , and he misses me so if\r
+I leave him . Good - bye , and God help you in your undertaking " She\r
+hurried from the room as impulsively as she had entered , and we\r
+heard the wheels of her carriage rattle off down the street .\r
+\r
+" I am ashamed of you , Holmes " said Lestrade with dignity after a\r
+few minutes ' silence . " Why should you raise up hopes which you\r
+are bound to disappoint ? I am not over - tender of heart , but I\r
+call it cruel "\r
+\r
+" I think that I see my way to clearing James McCarthy " said\r
+Holmes . " Have you an order to see him in prison "\r
+\r
+" Yes , but only for you and me "\r
+\r
+" Then I shall reconsider my resolution about going out . We have\r
+still time to take a train to Hereford and see him to - night "\r
+\r
+" Ample "\r
+\r
+" Then let us do so . Watson , I fear that you will find it very\r
+slow , but I shall only be away a couple of hours "\r
+\r
+I walked down to the station with them , and then wandered through\r
+the streets of the little town , finally returning to the hotel ,\r
+where I lay upon the sofa and tried to interest myself in a\r
+yellow - backed novel . The puny plot of the story was so thin ,\r
+however , when compared to the deep mystery through which we were\r
+groping , and I found my attention wander so continually from the\r
+action to the fact , that I at last flung it across the room and\r
+gave myself up entirely to a consideration of the events of the\r
+day . Supposing that this unhappy young man's story were\r
+absolutely true , then what hellish thing , what absolutely\r
+unforeseen and extraordinary calamity could have occurred between\r
+the time when he parted from his father , and the moment when ,\r
+drawn back by his screams , he rushed into the glade ? It was\r
+something terrible and deadly . What could it be ? Might not the\r
+nature of the injuries reveal something to my medical instincts ?\r
+I rang the bell and called for the weekly county paper , which\r
+contained a verbatim account of the inquest . In the surgeon's\r
+deposition it was stated that the posterior third of the left\r
+parietal bone and the left half of the occipital bone had been\r
+shattered by a heavy blow from a blunt weapon . I marked the spot\r
+upon my own head . Clearly such a blow must have been struck from\r
+behind . That was to some extent in favour of the accused , as when\r
+seen quarrelling he was face to face with his father . Still , it\r
+did not go for very much , for the older man might have turned his\r
+back before the blow fell . Still , it might be worth while to call\r
+Holmes ' attention to it . Then there was the peculiar dying\r
+reference to a rat . What could that mean ? It could not be\r
+delirium . A man dying from a sudden blow does not commonly become\r
+delirious . No , it was more likely to be an attempt to explain how\r
+he met his fate . But what could it indicate ? I cudgelled my\r
+brains to find some possible explanation . And then the incident\r
+of the grey cloth seen by young McCarthy . If that were true the\r
+murderer must have dropped some part of his dress , presumably his\r
+overcoat , in his flight , and must have had the hardihood to\r
+return and to carry it away at the instant when the son was\r
+kneeling with his back turned not a dozen paces off . What a\r
+tissue of mysteries and improbabilities the whole thing was ! I\r
+did not wonder at Lestrade's opinion , and yet I had so much faith\r
+in Sherlock Holmes ' insight that I could not lose hope as long\r
+as every fresh fact seemed to strengthen his conviction of young\r
+McCarthy's innocence .\r
+\r
+It was late before Sherlock Holmes returned . He came back alone ,\r
+for Lestrade was staying in lodgings in the town .\r
+\r
+" The glass still keeps very high " he remarked as he sat down .\r
+" It is of importance that it should not rain before we are able\r
+to go over the ground . On the other hand , a man should be at his\r
+very best and keenest for such nice work as that , and I did not\r
+wish to do it when fagged by a long journey . I have seen young\r
+McCarthy "\r
+\r
+" And what did you learn from him "\r
+\r
+" Nothing "\r
+\r
+" Could he throw no light "\r
+\r
+" None at all . I was inclined to think at one time that he knew\r
+who had done it and was screening him or her , but I am convinced\r
+now that he is as puzzled as everyone else . He is not a very\r
+quick - witted youth , though comely to look at and , I should think ,\r
+sound at heart "\r
+\r
+" I cannot admire his taste " I remarked , " if it is indeed a fact\r
+that he was averse to a marriage with so charming a young lady as\r
+this Miss Turner "\r
+\r
+" Ah , thereby hangs a rather painful tale . This fellow is madly ,\r
+insanely , in love with her , but some two years ago , when he was\r
+only a lad , and before he really knew her , for she had been away\r
+five years at a boarding - school , what does the idiot do but get\r
+into the clutches of a barmaid in Bristol and marry her at a\r
+registry office ? No one knows a word of the matter , but you can\r
+imagine how maddening it must be to him to be upbraided for not\r
+doing what he would give his very eyes to do , but what he knows\r
+to be absolutely impossible . It was sheer frenzy of this sort\r
+which made him throw his hands up into the air when his father ,\r
+at their last interview , was goading him on to propose to Miss\r
+Turner . On the other hand , he had no means of supporting himself ,\r
+and his father , who was by all accounts a very hard man , would\r
+have thrown him over utterly had he known the truth . It was with\r
+his barmaid wife that he had spent the last three days in\r
+Bristol , and his father did not know where he was . Mark that\r
+point . It is of importance . Good has come out of evil , however ,\r
+for the barmaid , finding from the papers that he is in serious\r
+trouble and likely to be hanged , has thrown him over utterly and\r
+has written to him to say that she has a husband already in the\r
+Bermuda Dockyard , so that there is really no tie between them . I\r
+think that that bit of news has consoled young McCarthy for all\r
+that he has suffered "\r
+\r
+" But if he is innocent , who has done it "\r
+\r
+" Ah ! who ? I would call your attention very particularly to two\r
+points . One is that the murdered man had an appointment with\r
+someone at the pool , and that the someone could not have been his\r
+son , for his son was away , and he did not know when he would\r
+return . The second is that the murdered man was heard to cry\r
+' Cooee ' before he knew that his son had returned . Those are the\r
+crucial points upon which the case depends . And now let us talk\r
+about George Meredith , if you please , and we shall leave all\r
+minor matters until to - morrow "\r
+\r
+There was no rain , as Holmes had foretold , and the morning broke\r
+bright and cloudless . At nine o'clock Lestrade called for us with\r
+the carriage , and we set off for Hatherley Farm and the Boscombe\r
+Pool .\r
+\r
+" There is serious news this morning " Lestrade observed . " It is\r
+said that Mr . Turner , of the Hall , is so ill that his life is\r
+despaired of "\r
+\r
+" An elderly man , I presume " said Holmes .\r
+\r
+" About sixty ; but his constitution has been shattered by his life\r
+abroad , and he has been in failing health for some time . This\r
+business has had a very bad effect upon him . He was an old friend\r
+of McCarthy's , and , I may add , a great benefactor to him , for I\r
+have learned that he gave him Hatherley Farm rent free "\r
+\r
+" Indeed ! That is interesting " said Holmes .\r
+\r
+" Oh , yes ! In a hundred other ways he has helped him . Everybody\r
+about here speaks of his kindness to him "\r
+\r
+" Really ! Does it not strike you as a little singular that this\r
+McCarthy , who appears to have had little of his own , and to have\r
+been under such obligations to Turner , should still talk of\r
+marrying his son to Turner's daughter , who is , presumably ,\r
+heiress to the estate , and that in such a very cocksure manner ,\r
+as if it were merely a case of a proposal and all else would\r
+follow ? It is the more strange , since we know that Turner himself\r
+was averse to the idea . The daughter told us as much . Do you not\r
+deduce something from that "\r
+\r
+" We have got to the deductions and the inferences " said\r
+Lestrade , winking at me . " I find it hard enough to tackle facts ,\r
+Holmes , without flying away after theories and fancies "\r
+\r
+" You are right " said Holmes demurely ; " you do find it very hard\r
+to tackle the facts "\r
+\r
+" Anyhow , I have grasped one fact which you seem to find it\r
+difficult to get hold of " replied Lestrade with some warmth .\r
+\r
+" And that is -"\r
+\r
+" That McCarthy senior met his death from McCarthy junior and that\r
+all theories to the contrary are the merest moonshine "\r
+\r
+" Well , moonshine is a brighter thing than fog " said Holmes ,\r
+laughing . " But I am very much mistaken if this is not Hatherley\r
+Farm upon the left "\r
+\r
+" Yes , that is it " It was a widespread , comfortable - looking\r
+building , two - storied , slate - roofed , with great yellow blotches\r
+of lichen upon the grey walls . The drawn blinds and the smokeless\r
+chimneys , however , gave it a stricken look , as though the weight\r
+of this horror still lay heavy upon it . We called at the door ,\r
+when the maid , at Holmes ' request , showed us the boots which her\r
+master wore at the time of his death , and also a pair of the\r
+son's , though not the pair which he had then had . Having measured\r
+these very carefully from seven or eight different points , Holmes\r
+desired to be led to the court - yard , from which we all followed\r
+the winding track which led to Boscombe Pool .\r
+\r
+Sherlock Holmes was transformed when he was hot upon such a scent\r
+as this . Men who had only known the quiet thinker and logician of\r
+Baker Street would have failed to recognise him . His face flushed\r
+and darkened . His brows were drawn into two hard black lines ,\r
+while his eyes shone out from beneath them with a steely glitter .\r
+His face was bent downward , his shoulders bowed , his lips\r
+compressed , and the veins stood out like whipcord in his long ,\r
+sinewy neck . His nostrils seemed to dilate with a purely animal\r
+lust for the chase , and his mind was so absolutely concentrated\r
+upon the matter before him that a question or remark fell\r
+unheeded upon his ears , or , at the most , only provoked a quick ,\r
+impatient snarl in reply . Swiftly and silently he made his way\r
+along the track which ran through the meadows , and so by way of\r
+the woods to the Boscombe Pool . It was damp , marshy ground , as is\r
+all that district , and there were marks of many feet , both upon\r
+the path and amid the short grass which bounded it on either\r
+side . Sometimes Holmes would hurry on , sometimes stop dead , and\r
+once he made quite a little detour into the meadow . Lestrade and\r
+I walked behind him , the detective indifferent and contemptuous ,\r
+while I watched my friend with the interest which sprang from the\r
+conviction that every one of his actions was directed towards a\r
+definite end .\r
+\r
+The Boscombe Pool , which is a little reed - girt sheet of water\r
+some fifty yards across , is situated at the boundary between the\r
+Hatherley Farm and the private park of the wealthy Mr . Turner .\r
+Above the woods which lined it upon the farther side we could see\r
+the red , jutting pinnacles which marked the site of the rich\r
+landowner's dwelling . On the Hatherley side of the pool the woods\r
+grew very thick , and there was a narrow belt of sodden grass\r
+twenty paces across between the edge of the trees and the reeds\r
+which lined the lake . Lestrade showed us the exact spot at which\r
+the body had been found , and , indeed , so moist was the ground ,\r
+that I could plainly see the traces which had been left by the\r
+fall of the stricken man . To Holmes , as I could see by his eager\r
+face and peering eyes , very many other things were to be read\r
+upon the trampled grass . He ran round , like a dog who is picking\r
+up a scent , and then turned upon my companion .\r
+\r
+" What did you go into the pool for " he asked .\r
+\r
+" I fished about with a rake . I thought there might be some weapon\r
+or other trace . But how on earth -"\r
+\r
+" Oh , tut , tut ! I have no time ! That left foot of yours with its\r
+inward twist is all over the place . A mole could trace it , and\r
+there it vanishes among the reeds . Oh , how simple it would all\r
+have been had I been here before they came like a herd of buffalo\r
+and wallowed all over it . Here is where the party with the\r
+lodge - keeper came , and they have covered all tracks for six or\r
+eight feet round the body . But here are three separate tracks of\r
+the same feet " He drew out a lens and lay down upon his\r
+waterproof to have a better view , talking all the time rather to\r
+himself than to us . " These are young McCarthy's feet . Twice he\r
+was walking , and once he ran swiftly , so that the soles are\r
+deeply marked and the heels hardly visible . That bears out his\r
+story . He ran when he saw his father on the ground . Then here are\r
+the father's feet as he paced up and down . What is this , then ? It\r
+is the butt - end of the gun as the son stood listening . And this ?\r
+Ha , ha ! What have we here ? Tiptoes ! tiptoes ! Square , too , quite\r
+unusual boots ! They come , they go , they come again - of course\r
+that was for the cloak . Now where did they come from " He ran up\r
+and down , sometimes losing , sometimes finding the track until we\r
+were well within the edge of the wood and under the shadow of a\r
+great beech , the largest tree in the neighbourhood . Holmes traced\r
+his way to the farther side of this and lay down once more upon\r
+his face with a little cry of satisfaction . For a long time he\r
+remained there , turning over the leaves and dried sticks ,\r
+gathering up what seemed to me to be dust into an envelope and\r
+examining with his lens not only the ground but even the bark of\r
+the tree as far as he could reach . A jagged stone was lying among\r
+the moss , and this also he carefully examined and retained . Then\r
+he followed a pathway through the wood until he came to the\r
+highroad , where all traces were lost .\r
+\r
+" It has been a case of considerable interest " he remarked ,\r
+returning to his natural manner . " I fancy that this grey house on\r
+the right must be the lodge . I think that I will go in and have a\r
+word with Moran , and perhaps write a little note . Having done\r
+that , we may drive back to our luncheon . You may walk to the cab ,\r
+and I shall be with you presently "\r
+\r
+It was about ten minutes before we regained our cab and drove\r
+back into Ross , Holmes still carrying with him the stone which he\r
+had picked up in the wood .\r
+\r
+" This may interest you , Lestrade " he remarked , holding it out .\r
+" The murder was done with it "\r
+\r
+" I see no marks "\r
+\r
+" There are none "\r
+\r
+" How do you know , then "\r
+\r
+" The grass was growing under it . It had only lain there a few\r
+days . There was no sign of a place whence it had been taken . It\r
+corresponds with the injuries . There is no sign of any other\r
+weapon "\r
+\r
+" And the murderer "\r
+\r
+" Is a tall man , left - handed , limps with the right leg , wears\r
+thick - soled shooting - boots and a grey cloak , smokes Indian\r
+cigars , uses a cigar - holder , and carries a blunt pen - knife in his\r
+pocket . There are several other indications , but these may be\r
+enough to aid us in our search "\r
+\r
+Lestrade laughed . " I am afraid that I am still a sceptic " he\r
+said . " Theories are all very well , but we have to deal with a\r
+hard - headed British jury "\r
+\r
+" Nous verrons " answered Holmes calmly . " You work your own\r
+method , and I shall work mine . I shall be busy this afternoon ,\r
+and shall probably return to London by the evening train "\r
+\r
+" And leave your case unfinished "\r
+\r
+" No , finished "\r
+\r
+" But the mystery "\r
+\r
+" It is solved "\r
+\r
+" Who was the criminal , then "\r
+\r
+" The gentleman I describe "\r
+\r
+" But who is he "\r
+\r
+" Surely it would not be difficult to find out . This is not such a\r
+populous neighbourhood "\r
+\r
+Lestrade shrugged his shoulders . " I am a practical man " he said ,\r
+" and I really cannot undertake to go about the country looking\r
+for a left - handed gentleman with a game leg . I should become the\r
+laughing - stock of Scotland Yard "\r
+\r
+" All right " said Holmes quietly . " I have given you the chance .\r
+Here are your lodgings . Good - bye . I shall drop you a line before\r
+I leave "\r
+\r
+Having left Lestrade at his rooms , we drove to our hotel , where\r
+we found lunch upon the table . Holmes was silent and buried in\r
+thought with a pained expression upon his face , as one who finds\r
+himself in a perplexing position .\r
+\r
+" Look here , Watson " he said when the cloth was cleared " just sit\r
+down in this chair and let me preach to you for a little . I don ' t\r
+know quite what to do , and I should value your advice . Light a\r
+cigar and let me expound "\r
+\r
+ " Pray do so "\r
+\r
+" Well , now , in considering this case there are two points about\r
+young McCarthy's narrative which struck us both instantly ,\r
+although they impressed me in his favour and you against him . One\r
+was the fact that his father should , according to his account ,\r
+cry ' Cooee ' before seeing him . The other was his singular dying\r
+reference to a rat . He mumbled several words , you understand , but\r
+that was all that caught the son's ear . Now from this double\r
+point our research must commence , and we will begin it by\r
+presuming that what the lad says is absolutely true "\r
+\r
+" What of this ' Cooee ' then "\r
+\r
+" Well , obviously it could not have been meant for the son . The\r
+son , as far as he knew , was in Bristol . It was mere chance that\r
+he was within earshot . The ' Cooee ' was meant to attract the\r
+attention of whoever it was that he had the appointment with . But\r
+' Cooee ' is a distinctly Australian cry , and one which is used\r
+between Australians . There is a strong presumption that the\r
+person whom McCarthy expected to meet him at Boscombe Pool was\r
+someone who had been in Australia "\r
+\r
+" What of the rat , then "\r
+\r
+Sherlock Holmes took a folded paper from his pocket and flattened\r
+it out on the table . " This is a map of the Colony of Victoria "\r
+he said . " I wired to Bristol for it last night " He put his hand\r
+over part of the map . " What do you read "\r
+\r
+" ARAT " I read .\r
+\r
+" And now " He raised his hand .\r
+\r
+" BALLARAT "\r
+\r
+" Quite so . That was the word the man uttered , and of which his\r
+son only caught the last two syllables . He was trying to utter\r
+the name of his murderer . So and so , of Ballarat "\r
+\r
+" It is wonderful " I exclaimed .\r
+\r
+" It is obvious . And now , you see , I had narrowed the field down\r
+considerably . The possession of a grey garment was a third point\r
+which , granting the son's statement to be correct , was a\r
+certainty . We have come now out of mere vagueness to the definite\r
+conception of an Australian from Ballarat with a grey cloak "\r
+\r
+" Certainly "\r
+\r
+" And one who was at home in the district , for the pool can only\r
+be approached by the farm or by the estate , where strangers could\r
+hardly wander "\r
+\r
+" Quite so "\r
+\r
+" Then comes our expedition of to - day . By an examination of the\r
+ground I gained the trifling details which I gave to that\r
+imbecile Lestrade , as to the personality of the criminal "\r
+\r
+" But how did you gain them "\r
+\r
+" You know my method . It is founded upon the observation of\r
+trifles "\r
+\r
+" His height I know that you might roughly judge from the length\r
+of his stride . His boots , too , might be told from their traces "\r
+\r
+" Yes , they were peculiar boots "\r
+\r
+" But his lameness "\r
+\r
+" The impression of his right foot was always less distinct than\r
+his left . He put less weight upon it . Why ? Because he limped - he\r
+was lame "\r
+\r
+" But his left - handedness "\r
+\r
+" You were yourself struck by the nature of the injury as recorded\r
+by the surgeon at the inquest . The blow was struck from\r
+immediately behind , and yet was upon the left side . Now , how can\r
+that be unless it were by a left - handed man ? He had stood behind\r
+that tree during the interview between the father and son . He had\r
+even smoked there . I found the ash of a cigar , which my special\r
+knowledge of tobacco ashes enables me to pronounce as an Indian\r
+cigar . I have , as you know , devoted some attention to this , and\r
+written a little monograph on the ashes of 140 different\r
+varieties of pipe , cigar , and cigarette tobacco . Having found the\r
+ash , I then looked round and discovered the stump among the moss\r
+where he had tossed it . It was an Indian cigar , of the variety\r
+which are rolled in Rotterdam "\r
+\r
+" And the cigar - holder "\r
+\r
+" I could see that the end had not been in his mouth . Therefore he\r
+used a holder . The tip had been cut off , not bitten off , but the\r
+cut was not a clean one , so I deduced a blunt pen - knife "\r
+\r
+" Holmes " I said , " you have drawn a net round this man from which\r
+he cannot escape , and you have saved an innocent human life as\r
+truly as if you had cut the cord which was hanging him . I see the\r
+direction in which all this points . The culprit is -"\r
+\r
+" Mr . John Turner " cried the hotel waiter , opening the door of\r
+our sitting - room , and ushering in a visitor .\r
+\r
+The man who entered was a strange and impressive figure . His\r
+slow , limping step and bowed shoulders gave the appearance of\r
+decrepitude , and yet his hard , deep - lined , craggy features , and\r
+his enormous limbs showed that he was possessed of unusual\r
+strength of body and of character . His tangled beard , grizzled\r
+hair , and outstanding , drooping eyebrows combined to give an air\r
+of dignity and power to his appearance , but his face was of an\r
+ashen white , while his lips and the corners of his nostrils were\r
+tinged with a shade of blue . It was clear to me at a glance that\r
+he was in the grip of some deadly and chronic disease .\r
+\r
+" Pray sit down on the sofa " said Holmes gently . " You had my\r
+note "\r
+\r
+" Yes , the lodge - keeper brought it up . You said that you wished to\r
+see me here to avoid scandal "\r
+\r
+" I thought people would talk if I went to the Hall "\r
+\r
+" And why did you wish to see me " He looked across at my\r
+companion with despair in his weary eyes , as though his question\r
+was already answered .\r
+\r
+" Yes " said Holmes , answering the look rather than the words . " It\r
+is so . I know all about McCarthy "\r
+\r
+The old man sank his face in his hands . " God help me " he cried .\r
+" But I would not have let the young man come to harm . I give you\r
+my word that I would have spoken out if it went against him at\r
+the Assizes "\r
+\r
+" I am glad to hear you say so " said Holmes gravely .\r
+\r
+" I would have spoken now had it not been for my dear girl . It\r
+would break her heart - it will break her heart when she hears\r
+that I am arrested "\r
+\r
+" It may not come to that " said Holmes .\r
+\r
+" What "\r
+\r
+" I am no official agent . I understand that it was your daughter\r
+who required my presence here , and I am acting in her interests .\r
+Young McCarthy must be got off , however "\r
+\r
+" I am a dying man " said old Turner . " I have had diabetes for\r
+years . My doctor says it is a question whether I shall live a\r
+month . Yet I would rather die under my own roof than in a gaol "\r
+\r
+Holmes rose and sat down at the table with his pen in his hand\r
+and a bundle of paper before him . " Just tell us the truth " he\r
+said . " I shall jot down the facts . You will sign it , and Watson\r
+here can witness it . Then I could produce your confession at the\r
+last extremity to save young McCarthy . I promise you that I shall\r
+not use it unless it is absolutely needed "\r
+\r
+" It's as well " said the old man ; " it's a question whether I\r
+shall live to the Assizes , so it matters little to me , but I\r
+should wish to spare Alice the shock . And now I will make the\r
+thing clear to you ; it has been a long time in the acting , but\r
+will not take me long to tell .\r
+\r
+" You didn't know this dead man , McCarthy . He was a devil\r
+incarnate . I tell you that . God keep you out of the clutches of\r
+such a man as he . His grip has been upon me these twenty years ,\r
+and he has blasted my life . I ' ll tell you first how I came to be\r
+in his power .\r
+\r
+" It was in the early ' 60's at the diggings . I was a young chap\r
+then , hot - blooded and reckless , ready to turn my hand at\r
+anything ; I got among bad companions , took to drink , had no luck\r
+with my claim , took to the bush , and in a word became what you\r
+would call over here a highway robber . There were six of us , and\r
+we had a wild , free life of it , sticking up a station from time\r
+to time , or stopping the wagons on the road to the diggings .\r
+Black Jack of Ballarat was the name I went under , and our party\r
+is still remembered in the colony as the Ballarat Gang .\r
+\r
+" One day a gold convoy came down from Ballarat to Melbourne , and\r
+we lay in wait for it and attacked it . There were six troopers\r
+and six of us , so it was a close thing , but we emptied four of\r
+their saddles at the first volley . Three of our boys were killed ,\r
+however , before we got the swag . I put my pistol to the head of\r
+the wagon - driver , who was this very man McCarthy . I wish to the\r
+Lord that I had shot him then , but I spared him , though I saw his\r
+wicked little eyes fixed on my face , as though to remember every\r
+feature . We got away with the gold , became wealthy men , and made\r
+our way over to England without being suspected . There I parted\r
+from my old pals and determined to settle down to a quiet and\r
+respectable life . I bought this estate , which chanced to be in\r
+the market , and I set myself to do a little good with my money ,\r
+to make up for the way in which I had earned it . I married , too ,\r
+and though my wife died young she left me my dear little Alice .\r
+Even when she was just a baby her wee hand seemed to lead me down\r
+the right path as nothing else had ever done . In a word , I turned\r
+over a new leaf and did my best to make up for the past . All was\r
+going well when McCarthy laid his grip upon me .\r
+\r
+" I had gone up to town about an investment , and I met him in\r
+Regent Street with hardly a coat to his back or a boot to his\r
+foot .\r
+\r
+ ' Here we are , Jack ' says he , touching me on the arm ; ' we ' ll be\r
+as good as a family to you . There's two of us , me and my son , and\r
+you can have the keeping of us . If you don't - it's a fine ,\r
+law - abiding country is England , and there's always a policeman\r
+within hail '\r
+\r
+" Well , down they came to the west country , there was no shaking\r
+them off , and there they have lived rent free on my best land\r
+ever since . There was no rest for me , no peace , no forgetfulness ;\r
+turn where I would , there was his cunning , grinning face at my\r
+elbow . It grew worse as Alice grew up , for he soon saw I was more\r
+afraid of her knowing my past than of the police . Whatever he\r
+wanted he must have , and whatever it was I gave him without\r
+question , land , money , houses , until at last he asked a thing\r
+which I could not give . He asked for Alice .\r
+\r
+" His son , you see , had grown up , and so had my girl , and as I was\r
+known to be in weak health , it seemed a fine stroke to him that\r
+his lad should step into the whole property . But there I was\r
+firm . I would not have his cursed stock mixed with mine ; not that\r
+I had any dislike to the lad , but his blood was in him , and that\r
+was enough . I stood firm . McCarthy threatened . I braved him to do\r
+his worst . We were to meet at the pool midway between our houses\r
+to talk it over .\r
+\r
+" When I went down there I found him talking with his son , so I\r
+smoked a cigar and waited behind a tree until he should be alone .\r
+But as I listened to his talk all that was black and bitter in\r
+me seemed to come uppermost . He was urging his son to marry my\r
+daughter with as little regard for what she might think as if she\r
+were a slut from off the streets . It drove me mad to think that I\r
+and all that I held most dear should be in the power of such a\r
+man as this . Could I not snap the bond ? I was already a dying and\r
+a desperate man . Though clear of mind and fairly strong of limb ,\r
+I knew that my own fate was sealed . But my memory and my girl !\r
+Both could be saved if I could but silence that foul tongue . I\r
+did it , Mr . Holmes . I would do it again . Deeply as I have sinned ,\r
+I have led a life of martyrdom to atone for it . But that my girl\r
+should be entangled in the same meshes which held me was more\r
+than I could suffer . I struck him down with no more compunction\r
+than if he had been some foul and venomous beast . His cry brought\r
+back his son ; but I had gained the cover of the wood , though I\r
+was forced to go back to fetch the cloak which I had dropped in\r
+my flight . That is the true story , gentlemen , of all that\r
+occurred "\r
+\r
+" Well , it is not for me to judge you " said Holmes as the old man\r
+signed the statement which had been drawn out . " I pray that we\r
+may never be exposed to such a temptation "\r
+\r
+" I pray not , sir . And what do you intend to do "\r
+\r
+" In view of your health , nothing . You are yourself aware that you\r
+will soon have to answer for your deed at a higher court than the\r
+Assizes . I will keep your confession , and if McCarthy is\r
+condemned I shall be forced to use it . If not , it shall never be\r
+seen by mortal eye ; and your secret , whether you be alive or\r
+dead , shall be safe with us "\r
+\r
+" Farewell , then " said the old man solemnly . " Your own deathbeds ,\r
+when they come , will be the easier for the thought of the peace\r
+which you have given to mine " Tottering and shaking in all his\r
+giant frame , he stumbled slowly from the room .\r
+\r
+" God help us " said Holmes after a long silence . " Why does fate\r
+play such tricks with poor , helpless worms ? I never hear of such\r
+a case as this that I do not think of Baxter's words , and say ,\r
+' There , but for the grace of God , goes Sherlock Holmes '"\r
+\r
+James McCarthy was acquitted at the Assizes on the strength of a\r
+number of objections which had been drawn out by Holmes and\r
+submitted to the defending counsel . Old Turner lived for seven\r
+months after our interview , but he is now dead ; and there is\r
+every prospect that the son and daughter may come to live happily\r
+together in ignorance of the black cloud which rests upon their\r
+past .\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+ADVENTURE V . THE FIVE ORANGE PIPS\r
+\r
+When I glance over my notes and records of the Sherlock Holmes\r
+cases between the years ' 82 and ' 90 , I am faced by so many which\r
+present strange and interesting features that it is no easy\r
+matter to know which to choose and which to leave . Some , however ,\r
+have already gained publicity through the papers , and others have\r
+not offered a field for those peculiar qualities which my friend\r
+possessed in so high a degree , and which it is the object of\r
+these papers to illustrate . Some , too , have baffled his\r
+analytical skill , and would be , as narratives , beginnings without\r
+an ending , while others have been but partially cleared up , and\r
+have their explanations founded rather upon conjecture and\r
+surmise than on that absolute logical proof which was so dear to\r
+him . There is , however , one of these last which was so remarkable\r
+in its details and so startling in its results that I am tempted\r
+to give some account of it in spite of the fact that there are\r
+points in connection with it which never have been , and probably\r
+never will be , entirely cleared up .\r
+\r
+The year ' 87 furnished us with a long series of cases of greater\r
+or less interest , of which I retain the records . Among my\r
+headings under this one twelve months I find an account of the\r
+adventure of the Paradol Chamber , of the Amateur Mendicant\r
+Society , who held a luxurious club in the lower vault of a\r
+furniture warehouse , of the facts connected with the loss of the\r
+British barque " Sophy Anderson , of the singular adventures of the\r
+Grice Patersons in the island of Uffa , and finally of the\r
+Camberwell poisoning case . In the latter , as may be remembered ,\r
+Sherlock Holmes was able , by winding up the dead man's watch , to\r
+prove that it had been wound up two hours before , and that\r
+therefore the deceased had gone to bed within that time - a\r
+deduction which was of the greatest importance in clearing up the\r
+case . All these I may sketch out at some future date , but none of\r
+them present such singular features as the strange train of\r
+circumstances which I have now taken up my pen to describe .\r
+\r
+It was in the latter days of September , and the equinoctial gales\r
+had set in with exceptional violence . All day the wind had\r
+screamed and the rain had beaten against the windows , so that\r
+even here in the heart of great , hand - made London we were forced\r
+to raise our minds for the instant from the routine of life and\r
+to recognise the presence of those great elemental forces which\r
+shriek at mankind through the bars of his civilisation , like\r
+untamed beasts in a cage . As evening drew in , the storm grew\r
+higher and louder , and the wind cried and sobbed like a child in\r
+the chimney . Sherlock Holmes sat moodily at one side of the\r
+fireplace cross - indexing his records of crime , while I at the\r
+other was deep in one of Clark Russell's fine sea - stories until\r
+the howl of the gale from without seemed to blend with the text ,\r
+and the splash of the rain to lengthen out into the long swash of\r
+the sea waves . My wife was on a visit to her mother's , and for a\r
+few days I was a dweller once more in my old quarters at Baker\r
+Street .\r
+\r
+" Why " said I , glancing up at my companion , " that was surely the\r
+bell . Who could come to - night ? Some friend of yours , perhaps "\r
+\r
+" Except yourself I have none " he answered . " I do not encourage\r
+visitors "\r
+\r
+" A client , then "\r
+\r
+" If so , it is a serious case . Nothing less would bring a man out\r
+on such a day and at such an hour . But I take it that it is more\r
+likely to be some crony of the landlady's "\r
+\r
+Sherlock Holmes was wrong in his conjecture , however , for there\r
+came a step in the passage and a tapping at the door . He\r
+stretched out his long arm to turn the lamp away from himself and\r
+towards the vacant chair upon which a newcomer must sit .\r
+\r
+" Come in " said he .\r
+\r
+The man who entered was young , some two - and - twenty at the\r
+outside , well - groomed and trimly clad , with something of\r
+refinement and delicacy in his bearing . The streaming umbrella\r
+which he held in his hand , and his long shining waterproof told\r
+of the fierce weather through which he had come . He looked about\r
+him anxiously in the glare of the lamp , and I could see that his\r
+face was pale and his eyes heavy , like those of a man who is\r
+weighed down with some great anxiety .\r
+\r
+" I owe you an apology " he said , raising his golden pince - nez to\r
+his eyes . " I trust that I am not intruding . I fear that I have\r
+brought some traces of the storm and rain into your snug\r
+chamber "\r
+\r
+" Give me your coat and umbrella " said Holmes . " They may rest\r
+here on the hook and will be dry presently . You have come up from\r
+the south - west , I see "\r
+\r
+" Yes , from Horsham "\r
+\r
+" That clay and chalk mixture which I see upon your toe caps is\r
+quite distinctive "\r
+\r
+" I have come for advice "\r
+\r
+" That is easily got "\r
+\r
+" And help "\r
+\r
+" That is not always so easy "\r
+\r
+" I have heard of you , Mr . Holmes . I heard from Major Prendergast\r
+how you saved him in the Tankerville Club scandal "\r
+\r
+" Ah , of course . He was wrongfully accused of cheating at cards "\r
+\r
+" He said that you could solve anything "\r
+\r
+" He said too much "\r
+\r
+" That you are never beaten "\r
+\r
+" I have been beaten four times - three times by men , and once by a\r
+woman "\r
+\r
+" But what is that compared with the number of your successes "\r
+\r
+" It is true that I have been generally successful "\r
+\r
+" Then you may be so with me "\r
+\r
+" I beg that you will draw your chair up to the fire and favour me\r
+with some details as to your case "\r
+\r
+" It is no ordinary one "\r
+\r
+" None of those which come to me are . I am the last court of\r
+appeal "\r
+\r
+" And yet I question , sir , whether , in all your experience , you\r
+have ever listened to a more mysterious and inexplicable chain of\r
+events than those which have happened in my own family "\r
+\r
+" You fill me with interest " said Holmes . " Pray give us the\r
+essential facts from the commencement , and I can afterwards\r
+question you as to those details which seem to me to be most\r
+important "\r
+\r
+The young man pulled his chair up and pushed his wet feet out\r
+towards the blaze .\r
+\r
+" My name " said he , " is John Openshaw , but my own affairs have ,\r
+as far as I can understand , little to do with this awful\r
+business . It is a hereditary matter ; so in order to give you an\r
+idea of the facts , I must go back to the commencement of the\r
+affair .\r
+\r
+" You must know that my grandfather had two sons - my uncle Elias\r
+and my father Joseph . My father had a small factory at Coventry ,\r
+which he enlarged at the time of the invention of bicycling . He\r
+was a patentee of the Openshaw unbreakable tire , and his business\r
+met with such success that he was able to sell it and to retire\r
+upon a handsome competence .\r
+\r
+" My uncle Elias emigrated to America when he was a young man and\r
+became a planter in Florida , where he was reported to have done\r
+very well . At the time of the war he fought in Jackson's army ,\r
+and afterwards under Hood , where he rose to be a colonel . When\r
+Lee laid down his arms my uncle returned to his plantation , where\r
+he remained for three or four years . About 1869 or 1870 he came\r
+back to Europe and took a small estate in Sussex , near Horsham .\r
+He had made a very considerable fortune in the States , and his\r
+reason for leaving them was his aversion to the negroes , and his\r
+dislike of the Republican policy in extending the franchise to\r
+them . He was a singular man , fierce and quick - tempered , very\r
+foul - mouthed when he was angry , and of a most retiring\r
+disposition . During all the years that he lived at Horsham , I\r
+doubt if ever he set foot in the town . He had a garden and two or\r
+three fields round his house , and there he would take his\r
+exercise , though very often for weeks on end he would never leave\r
+his room . He drank a great deal of brandy and smoked very\r
+heavily , but he would see no society and did not want any\r
+friends , not even his own brother .\r
+\r
+" He didn't mind me ; in fact , he took a fancy to me , for at the\r
+time when he saw me first I was a youngster of twelve or so . This\r
+would be in the year 1878 , after he had been eight or nine years\r
+in England . He begged my father to let me live with him and he\r
+was very kind to me in his way . When he was sober he used to be\r
+fond of playing backgammon and draughts with me , and he would\r
+make me his representative both with the servants and with the\r
+tradespeople , so that by the time that I was sixteen I was quite\r
+master of the house . I kept all the keys and could go where I\r
+liked and do what I liked , so long as I did not disturb him in\r
+his privacy . There was one singular exception , however , for he\r
+had a single room , a lumber - room up among the attics , which was\r
+invariably locked , and which he would never permit either me or\r
+anyone else to enter . With a boy's curiosity I have peeped\r
+through the keyhole , but I was never able to see more than such a\r
+collection of old trunks and bundles as would be expected in such\r
+a room .\r
+\r
+" One day - it was in March , 1883 - a letter with a foreign stamp\r
+lay upon the table in front of the colonel's plate . It was not a\r
+common thing for him to receive letters , for his bills were all\r
+paid in ready money , and he had no friends of any sort . ' From\r
+India ' said he as he took it up , ' Pondicherry postmark ! What can\r
+this be ' Opening it hurriedly , out there jumped five little\r
+dried orange pips , which pattered down upon his plate . I began to\r
+laugh at this , but the laugh was struck from my lips at the sight\r
+of his face . His lip had fallen , his eyes were protruding , his\r
+skin the colour of putty , and he glared at the envelope which he\r
+still held in his trembling hand , ' K . K . K ! ' he shrieked , and\r
+then , ' My God , my God , my sins have overtaken me '\r
+\r
+ ' What is it , uncle ' I cried .\r
+\r
+ ' Death ' said he , and rising from the table he retired to his\r
+room , leaving me palpitating with horror . I took up the envelope\r
+and saw scrawled in red ink upon the inner flap , just above the\r
+gum , the letter K three times repeated . There was nothing else\r
+save the five dried pips . What could be the reason of his\r
+overpowering terror ? I left the breakfast - table , and as I\r
+ascended the stair I met him coming down with an old rusty key ,\r
+which must have belonged to the attic , in one hand , and a small\r
+brass box , like a cashbox , in the other .\r
+\r
+ ' They may do what they like , but I ' ll checkmate them still '\r
+said he with an oath . ' Tell Mary that I shall want a fire in my\r
+room to - day , and send down to Fordham , the Horsham lawyer '\r
+\r
+" I did as he ordered , and when the lawyer arrived I was asked to\r
+step up to the room . The fire was burning brightly , and in the\r
+grate there was a mass of black , fluffy ashes , as of burned\r
+paper , while the brass box stood open and empty beside it . As I\r
+glanced at the box I noticed , with a start , that upon the lid was\r
+printed the treble K which I had read in the morning upon the\r
+envelope .\r
+\r
+ ' I wish you , John ' said my uncle , ' to witness my will . I leave\r
+my estate , with all its advantages and all its disadvantages , to\r
+my brother , your father , whence it will , no doubt , descend to\r
+you . If you can enjoy it in peace , well and good ! If you find you\r
+cannot , take my advice , my boy , and leave it to your deadliest\r
+enemy . I am sorry to give you such a two - edged thing , but I can ' t\r
+say what turn things are going to take . Kindly sign the paper\r
+where Mr . Fordham shows you '\r
+\r
+" I signed the paper as directed , and the lawyer took it away with\r
+him . The singular incident made , as you may think , the deepest\r
+impression upon me , and I pondered over it and turned it every\r
+way in my mind without being able to make anything of it . Yet I\r
+could not shake off the vague feeling of dread which it left\r
+behind , though the sensation grew less keen as the weeks passed\r
+and nothing happened to disturb the usual routine of our lives . I\r
+could see a change in my uncle , however . He drank more than ever ,\r
+and he was less inclined for any sort of society . Most of his\r
+time he would spend in his room , with the door locked upon the\r
+inside , but sometimes he would emerge in a sort of drunken frenzy\r
+and would burst out of the house and tear about the garden with a\r
+revolver in his hand , screaming out that he was afraid of no man ,\r
+and that he was not to be cooped up , like a sheep in a pen , by\r
+man or devil . When these hot fits were over , however , he would\r
+rush tumultuously in at the door and lock and bar it behind him ,\r
+like a man who can brazen it out no longer against the terror\r
+which lies at the roots of his soul . At such times I have seen\r
+his face , even on a cold day , glisten with moisture , as though it\r
+were new raised from a basin .\r
+\r
+" Well , to come to an end of the matter , Mr . Holmes , and not to\r
+abuse your patience , there came a night when he made one of those\r
+drunken sallies from which he never came back . We found him , when\r
+we went to search for him , face downward in a little\r
+green - scummed pool , which lay at the foot of the garden . There\r
+was no sign of any violence , and the water was but two feet deep ,\r
+so that the jury , having regard to his known eccentricity ,\r
+brought in a verdict of ' suicide ' But I , who knew how he winced\r
+from the very thought of death , had much ado to persuade myself\r
+that he had gone out of his way to meet it . The matter passed ,\r
+however , and my father entered into possession of the estate , and\r
+of some 14 , 000 pounds , which lay to his credit at the bank "\r
+\r
+" One moment " Holmes interposed , " your statement is , I foresee ,\r
+one of the most remarkable to which I have ever listened . Let me\r
+have the date of the reception by your uncle of the letter , and\r
+the date of his supposed suicide "\r
+\r
+" The letter arrived on March 10 , 1883 . His death was seven weeks\r
+later , upon the night of May 2nd "\r
+\r
+" Thank you . Pray proceed "\r
+\r
+" When my father took over the Horsham property , he , at my\r
+request , made a careful examination of the attic , which had been\r
+always locked up . We found the brass box there , although its\r
+contents had been destroyed . On the inside of the cover was a\r
+paper label , with the initials of K . K . K . repeated upon it , and\r
+' Letters , memoranda , receipts , and a register ' written beneath .\r
+These , we presume , indicated the nature of the papers which had\r
+been destroyed by Colonel Openshaw . For the rest , there was\r
+nothing of much importance in the attic save a great many\r
+scattered papers and note - books bearing upon my uncle's life in\r
+America . Some of them were of the war time and showed that he had\r
+done his duty well and had borne the repute of a brave soldier .\r
+Others were of a date during the reconstruction of the Southern\r
+states , and were mostly concerned with politics , for he had\r
+evidently taken a strong part in opposing the carpet - bag\r
+politicians who had been sent down from the North .\r
+\r
+" Well , it was the beginning of ' 84 when my father came to live at\r
+Horsham , and all went as well as possible with us until the\r
+January of ' 85 . On the fourth day after the new year I heard my\r
+father give a sharp cry of surprise as we sat together at the\r
+breakfast - table . There he was , sitting with a newly opened\r
+envelope in one hand and five dried orange pips in the\r
+outstretched palm of the other one . He had always laughed at what\r
+he called my cock - and - bull story about the colonel , but he looked\r
+very scared and puzzled now that the same thing had come upon\r
+himself .\r
+\r
+ ' Why , what on earth does this mean , John ' he stammered .\r
+\r
+" My heart had turned to lead . ' It is K . K . K , ' said I .\r
+\r
+" He looked inside the envelope . ' So it is ' he cried . ' Here are\r
+the very letters . But what is this written above them '\r
+\r
+ ' Put the papers on the sundial ' I read , peeping over his\r
+shoulder .\r
+\r
+ ' What papers ? What sundial ' he asked .\r
+\r
+ ' The sundial in the garden . There is no other ' said I ; ' but the\r
+papers must be those that are destroyed '\r
+\r
+ ' Pooh ' said he , gripping hard at his courage . ' We are in a\r
+civilised land here , and we can't have tomfoolery of this kind .\r
+Where does the thing come from '\r
+\r
+ ' From Dundee ' I answered , glancing at the postmark .\r
+\r
+ ' Some preposterous practical joke ' said he . ' What have I to do\r
+with sundials and papers ? I shall take no notice of such\r
+nonsense '\r
+\r
+ ' I should certainly speak to the police ' I said .\r
+\r
+ ' And be laughed at for my pains . Nothing of the sort '\r
+\r
+ ' Then let me do so '\r
+\r
+ ' No , I forbid you . I won't have a fuss made about such\r
+nonsense '\r
+\r
+" It was in vain to argue with him , for he was a very obstinate\r
+man . I went about , however , with a heart which was full of\r
+forebodings .\r
+\r
+" On the third day after the coming of the letter my father went\r
+from home to visit an old friend of his , Major Freebody , who is\r
+in command of one of the forts upon Portsdown Hill . I was glad\r
+that he should go , for it seemed to me that he was farther from\r
+danger when he was away from home . In that , however , I was in\r
+error . Upon the second day of his absence I received a telegram\r
+from the major , imploring me to come at once . My father had\r
+fallen over one of the deep chalk - pits which abound in the\r
+neighbourhood , and was lying senseless , with a shattered skull . I\r
+hurried to him , but he passed away without having ever recovered\r
+his consciousness . He had , as it appears , been returning from\r
+Fareham in the twilight , and as the country was unknown to him ,\r
+and the chalk - pit unfenced , the jury had no hesitation in\r
+bringing in a verdict of ' death from accidental causes '\r
+Carefully as I examined every fact connected with his death , I\r
+was unable to find anything which could suggest the idea of\r
+murder . There were no signs of violence , no footmarks , no\r
+robbery , no record of strangers having been seen upon the roads .\r
+And yet I need not tell you that my mind was far from at ease ,\r
+and that I was well - nigh certain that some foul plot had been\r
+woven round him .\r
+\r
+" In this sinister way I came into my inheritance . You will ask me\r
+why I did not dispose of it ? I answer , because I was well\r
+convinced that our troubles were in some way dependent upon an\r
+incident in my uncle's life , and that the danger would be as\r
+pressing in one house as in another .\r
+\r
+" It was in January , ' 85 , that my poor father met his end , and two\r
+years and eight months have elapsed since then . During that time\r
+I have lived happily at Horsham , and I had begun to hope that\r
+this curse had passed away from the family , and that it had ended\r
+with the last generation . I had begun to take comfort too soon ,\r
+however ; yesterday morning the blow fell in the very shape in\r
+which it had come upon my father "\r
+\r
+The young man took from his waistcoat a crumpled envelope , and\r
+turning to the table he shook out upon it five little dried\r
+orange pips .\r
+\r
+" This is the envelope " he continued . " The postmark is\r
+London - eastern division . Within are the very words which were\r
+upon my father's last message : ' K . K . K '; and then ' Put the\r
+papers on the sundial '"\r
+\r
+" What have you done " asked Holmes .\r
+\r
+" Nothing "\r
+\r
+" Nothing "\r
+\r
+" To tell the truth -- he sank his face into his thin , white\r
+hands -" I have felt helpless . I have felt like one of those poor\r
+rabbits when the snake is writhing towards it . I seem to be in\r
+the grasp of some resistless , inexorable evil , which no foresight\r
+and no precautions can guard against "\r
+\r
+" Tut ! tut " cried Sherlock Holmes . " You must act , man , or you are\r
+lost . Nothing but energy can save you . This is no time for\r
+despair "\r
+\r
+" I have seen the police "\r
+\r
+" Ah "\r
+\r
+" But they listened to my story with a smile . I am convinced that\r
+the inspector has formed the opinion that the letters are all\r
+practical jokes , and that the deaths of my relations were really\r
+accidents , as the jury stated , and were not to be connected with\r
+the warnings "\r
+\r
+Holmes shook his clenched hands in the air . " Incredible\r
+imbecility " he cried .\r
+\r
+" They have , however , allowed me a policeman , who may remain in\r
+the house with me "\r
+\r
+" Has he come with you to - night "\r
+\r
+" No . His orders were to stay in the house "\r
+\r
+Again Holmes raved in the air .\r
+\r
+" Why did you come to me " he cried , " and , above all , why did you\r
+not come at once "\r
+\r
+" I did not know . It was only to - day that I spoke to Major\r
+Prendergast about my troubles and was advised by him to come to\r
+you "\r
+\r
+" It is really two days since you had the letter . We should have\r
+acted before this . You have no further evidence , I suppose , than\r
+that which you have placed before us - no suggestive detail which\r
+might help us "\r
+\r
+" There is one thing " said John Openshaw . He rummaged in his coat\r
+pocket , and , drawing out a piece of discoloured , blue - tinted\r
+paper , he laid it out upon the table . " I have some remembrance "\r
+said he , " that on the day when my uncle burned the papers I\r
+observed that the small , unburned margins which lay amid the\r
+ashes were of this particular colour . I found this single sheet\r
+upon the floor of his room , and I am inclined to think that it\r
+may be one of the papers which has , perhaps , fluttered out from\r
+among the others , and in that way has escaped destruction . Beyond\r
+the mention of pips , I do not see that it helps us much . I think\r
+myself that it is a page from some private diary . The writing is\r
+undoubtedly my uncle's "\r
+\r
+Holmes moved the lamp , and we both bent over the sheet of paper ,\r
+which showed by its ragged edge that it had indeed been torn from\r
+a book . It was headed , " March , 1869 " and beneath were the\r
+following enigmatical notices :\r
+\r
+" 4th . Hudson came . Same old platform .\r
+\r
+" 7th . Set the pips on McCauley , Paramore , and\r
+ John Swain , of St . Augustine .\r
+\r
+" 9th . McCauley cleared .\r
+\r
+" 10th . John Swain cleared .\r
+\r
+" 12th . Visited Paramore . All well "\r
+\r
+" Thank you " said Holmes , folding up the paper and returning it\r
+to our visitor . " And now you must on no account lose another\r
+instant . We cannot spare time even to discuss what you have told\r
+me . You must get home instantly and act "\r
+\r
+" What shall I do "\r
+\r
+" There is but one thing to do . It must be done at once . You must\r
+put this piece of paper which you have shown us into the brass\r
+box which you have described . You must also put in a note to say\r
+that all the other papers were burned by your uncle , and that\r
+this is the only one which remains . You must assert that in such\r
+words as will carry conviction with them . Having done this , you\r
+must at once put the box out upon the sundial , as directed . Do\r
+you understand "\r
+\r
+" Entirely "\r
+\r
+" Do not think of revenge , or anything of the sort , at present . I\r
+think that we may gain that by means of the law ; but we have our\r
+web to weave , while theirs is already woven . The first\r
+consideration is to remove the pressing danger which threatens\r
+you . The second is to clear up the mystery and to punish the\r
+guilty parties "\r
+\r
+" I thank you " said the young man , rising and pulling on his\r
+overcoat . " You have given me fresh life and hope . I shall\r
+certainly do as you advise "\r
+\r
+" Do not lose an instant . And , above all , take care of yourself in\r
+the meanwhile , for I do not think that there can be a doubt that\r
+you are threatened by a very real and imminent danger . How do you\r
+go back "\r
+\r
+" By train from Waterloo "\r
+\r
+" It is not yet nine . The streets will be crowded , so I trust that\r
+you may be in safety . And yet you cannot guard yourself too\r
+closely "\r
+\r
+" I am armed "\r
+\r
+" That is well . To - morrow I shall set to work upon your case "\r
+\r
+" I shall see you at Horsham , then "\r
+\r
+" No , your secret lies in London . It is there that I shall seek\r
+it "\r
+\r
+" Then I shall call upon you in a day , or in two days , with news\r
+as to the box and the papers . I shall take your advice in every\r
+particular " He shook hands with us and took his leave . Outside\r
+the wind still screamed and the rain splashed and pattered\r
+against the windows . This strange , wild story seemed to have come\r
+to us from amid the mad elements - blown in upon us like a sheet\r
+of sea - weed in a gale - and now to have been reabsorbed by them\r
+once more .\r
+\r
+Sherlock Holmes sat for some time in silence , with his head sunk\r
+forward and his eyes bent upon the red glow of the fire . Then he\r
+lit his pipe , and leaning back in his chair he watched the blue\r
+smoke - rings as they chased each other up to the ceiling .\r
+\r
+" I think , Watson " he remarked at last , " that of all our cases we\r
+have had none more fantastic than this "\r
+\r
+" Save , perhaps , the Sign of Four "\r
+\r
+" Well , yes . Save , perhaps , that . And yet this John Openshaw seems\r
+to me to be walking amid even greater perils than did the\r
+Sholtos "\r
+\r
+" But have you " I asked , " formed any definite conception as to\r
+what these perils are "\r
+\r
+" There can be no question as to their nature " he answered .\r
+\r
+" Then what are they ? Who is this K . K . K , and why does he pursue\r
+this unhappy family "\r
+\r
+Sherlock Holmes closed his eyes and placed his elbows upon the\r
+arms of his chair , with his finger - tips together . " The ideal\r
+reasoner " he remarked , " would , when he had once been shown a\r
+single fact in all its bearings , deduce from it not only all the\r
+chain of events which led up to it but also all the results which\r
+would follow from it . As Cuvier could correctly describe a whole\r
+animal by the contemplation of a single bone , so the observer who\r
+has thoroughly understood one link in a series of incidents\r
+should be able to accurately state all the other ones , both\r
+before and after . We have not yet grasped the results which the\r
+reason alone can attain to . Problems may be solved in the study\r
+which have baffled all those who have sought a solution by the\r
+aid of their senses . To carry the art , however , to its highest\r
+pitch , it is necessary that the reasoner should be able to\r
+utilise all the facts which have come to his knowledge ; and this\r
+in itself implies , as you will readily see , a possession of all\r
+knowledge , which , even in these days of free education and\r
+encyclopaedias , is a somewhat rare accomplishment . It is not so\r
+impossible , however , that a man should possess all knowledge\r
+which is likely to be useful to him in his work , and this I have\r
+endeavoured in my case to do . If I remember rightly , you on one\r
+occasion , in the early days of our friendship , defined my limits\r
+in a very precise fashion "\r
+\r
+" Yes " I answered , laughing . " It was a singular document .\r
+Philosophy , astronomy , and politics were marked at zero , I\r
+remember . Botany variable , geology profound as regards the\r
+mud - stains from any region within fifty miles of town , chemistry\r
+eccentric , anatomy unsystematic , sensational literature and crime\r
+records unique , violin - player , boxer , swordsman , lawyer , and\r
+self - poisoner by cocaine and tobacco . Those , I think , were the\r
+main points of my analysis "\r
+\r
+Holmes grinned at the last item . " Well " he said , " I say now , as\r
+I said then , that a man should keep his little brain - attic\r
+stocked with all the furniture that he is likely to use , and the\r
+rest he can put away in the lumber - room of his library , where he\r
+can get it if he wants it . Now , for such a case as the one which\r
+has been submitted to us to - night , we need certainly to muster\r
+all our resources . Kindly hand me down the letter K of the\r
+' American Encyclopaedia ' which stands upon the shelf beside you .\r
+Thank you . Now let us consider the situation and see what may be\r
+deduced from it . In the first place , we may start with a strong\r
+presumption that Colonel Openshaw had some very strong reason for\r
+leaving America . Men at his time of life do not change all their\r
+habits and exchange willingly the charming climate of Florida for\r
+the lonely life of an English provincial town . His extreme love\r
+of solitude in England suggests the idea that he was in fear of\r
+someone or something , so we may assume as a working hypothesis\r
+that it was fear of someone or something which drove him from\r
+America . As to what it was he feared , we can only deduce that by\r
+considering the formidable letters which were received by himself\r
+and his successors . Did you remark the postmarks of those\r
+letters "\r
+\r
+" The first was from Pondicherry , the second from Dundee , and the\r
+third from London "\r
+\r
+" From East London . What do you deduce from that "\r
+\r
+" They are all seaports . That the writer was on board of a ship "\r
+\r
+" Excellent . We have already a clue . There can be no doubt that\r
+the probability - the strong probability - is that the writer was\r
+on board of a ship . And now let us consider another point . In the\r
+case of Pondicherry , seven weeks elapsed between the threat and\r
+its fulfilment , in Dundee it was only some three or four days .\r
+Does that suggest anything "\r
+\r
+" A greater distance to travel "\r
+\r
+" But the letter had also a greater distance to come "\r
+\r
+" Then I do not see the point "\r
+\r
+" There is at least a presumption that the vessel in which the man\r
+or men are is a sailing - ship . It looks as if they always send\r
+their singular warning or token before them when starting upon\r
+their mission . You see how quickly the deed followed the sign\r
+when it came from Dundee . If they had come from Pondicherry in a\r
+steamer they would have arrived almost as soon as their letter .\r
+But , as a matter of fact , seven weeks elapsed . I think that those\r
+seven weeks represented the difference between the mail - boat which\r
+brought the letter and the sailing vessel which brought the\r
+writer "\r
+\r
+" It is possible "\r
+\r
+" More than that . It is probable . And now you see the deadly\r
+urgency of this new case , and why I urged young Openshaw to\r
+caution . The blow has always fallen at the end of the time which\r
+it would take the senders to travel the distance . But this one\r
+comes from London , and therefore we cannot count upon delay "\r
+\r
+" Good God " I cried . " What can it mean , this relentless\r
+persecution "\r
+\r
+" The papers which Openshaw carried are obviously of vital\r
+importance to the person or persons in the sailing - ship . I think\r
+that it is quite clear that there must be more than one of them .\r
+A single man could not have carried out two deaths in such a way\r
+as to deceive a coroner's jury . There must have been several in\r
+it , and they must have been men of resource and determination .\r
+Their papers they mean to have , be the holder of them who it may .\r
+In this way you see K . K . K . ceases to be the initials of an\r
+individual and becomes the badge of a society "\r
+\r
+" But of what society "\r
+\r
+" Have you never -" said Sherlock Holmes , bending forward and\r
+sinking his voice -" have you never heard of the Ku Klux Klan "\r
+\r
+" I never have "\r
+\r
+Holmes turned over the leaves of the book upon his knee . " Here it\r
+is " said he presently :\r
+\r
+ ' Ku Klux Klan . A name derived from the fanciful resemblance to\r
+the sound produced by cocking a rifle . This terrible secret\r
+society was formed by some ex - Confederate soldiers in the\r
+Southern states after the Civil War , and it rapidly formed local\r
+branches in different parts of the country , notably in Tennessee ,\r
+Louisiana , the Carolinas , Georgia , and Florida . Its power was\r
+used for political purposes , principally for the terrorising of\r
+the negro voters and the murdering and driving from the country\r
+of those who were opposed to its views . Its outrages were usually\r
+preceded by a warning sent to the marked man in some fantastic\r
+but generally recognised shape - a sprig of oak - leaves in some\r
+parts , melon seeds or orange pips in others . On receiving this\r
+the victim might either openly abjure his former ways , or might\r
+fly from the country . If he braved the matter out , death would\r
+unfailingly come upon him , and usually in some strange and\r
+unforeseen manner . So perfect was the organisation of the\r
+society , and so systematic its methods , that there is hardly a\r
+case upon record where any man succeeded in braving it with\r
+impunity , or in which any of its outrages were traced home to the\r
+perpetrators . For some years the organisation flourished in spite\r
+of the efforts of the United States government and of the better\r
+classes of the community in the South . Eventually , in the year\r
+1869 , the movement rather suddenly collapsed , although there have\r
+been sporadic outbreaks of the same sort since that date '\r
+\r
+" You will observe " said Holmes , laying down the volume , " that\r
+the sudden breaking up of the society was coincident with the\r
+disappearance of Openshaw from America with their papers . It may\r
+well have been cause and effect . It is no wonder that he and his\r
+family have some of the more implacable spirits upon their track .\r
+You can understand that this register and diary may implicate\r
+some of the first men in the South , and that there may be many\r
+who will not sleep easy at night until it is recovered "\r
+\r
+" Then the page we have seen -"\r
+\r
+" Is such as we might expect . It ran , if I remember right , ' sent\r
+the pips to A , B , and C -- that is , sent the society's warning to\r
+them . Then there are successive entries that A and B cleared , or\r
+left the country , and finally that C was visited , with , I fear , a\r
+sinister result for C . Well , I think , Doctor , that we may let\r
+some light into this dark place , and I believe that the only\r
+chance young Openshaw has in the meantime is to do what I have\r
+told him . There is nothing more to be said or to be done\r
+to - night , so hand me over my violin and let us try to forget for\r
+half an hour the miserable weather and the still more miserable\r
+ways of our fellow - men "\r
+\r
+\r
+It had cleared in the morning , and the sun was shining with a\r
+subdued brightness through the dim veil which hangs over the\r
+great city . Sherlock Holmes was already at breakfast when I came\r
+down .\r
+\r
+" You will excuse me for not waiting for you " said he ; " I have , I\r
+foresee , a very busy day before me in looking into this case of\r
+young Openshaw's "\r
+\r
+" What steps will you take " I asked .\r
+\r
+" It will very much depend upon the results of my first inquiries .\r
+I may have to go down to Horsham , after all "\r
+\r
+" You will not go there first "\r
+\r
+" No , I shall commence with the City . Just ring the bell and the\r
+maid will bring up your coffee "\r
+\r
+As I waited , I lifted the unopened newspaper from the table and\r
+glanced my eye over it . It rested upon a heading which sent a\r
+chill to my heart .\r
+\r
+" Holmes " I cried , " you are too late "\r
+\r
+" Ah " said he , laying down his cup , " I feared as much . How was it\r
+done " He spoke calmly , but I could see that he was deeply moved .\r
+\r
+" My eye caught the name of Openshaw , and the heading ' Tragedy\r
+Near Waterloo Bridge ' Here is the account :\r
+\r
+" Between nine and ten last night Police - Constable Cook , of the H\r
+Division , on duty near Waterloo Bridge , heard a cry for help and\r
+a splash in the water . The night , however , was extremely dark and\r
+stormy , so that , in spite of the help of several passers - by , it\r
+was quite impossible to effect a rescue . The alarm , however , was\r
+given , and , by the aid of the water - police , the body was\r
+eventually recovered . It proved to be that of a young gentleman\r
+whose name , as it appears from an envelope which was found in his\r
+pocket , was John Openshaw , and whose residence is near Horsham .\r
+It is conjectured that he may have been hurrying down to catch\r
+the last train from Waterloo Station , and that in his haste and\r
+the extreme darkness he missed his path and walked over the edge\r
+of one of the small landing - places for river steamboats . The body\r
+exhibited no traces of violence , and there can be no doubt that\r
+the deceased had been the victim of an unfortunate accident ,\r
+which should have the effect of calling the attention of the\r
+authorities to the condition of the riverside landing - stages "\r
+\r
+We sat in silence for some minutes , Holmes more depressed and\r
+shaken than I had ever seen him .\r
+\r
+" That hurts my pride , Watson " he said at last . " It is a petty\r
+feeling , no doubt , but it hurts my pride . It becomes a personal\r
+matter with me now , and , if God sends me health , I shall set my\r
+hand upon this gang . That he should come to me for help , and that\r
+I should send him away to his death - " He sprang from his chair\r
+and paced about the room in uncontrollable agitation , with a\r
+flush upon his sallow cheeks and a nervous clasping and\r
+unclasping of his long thin hands .\r
+\r
+" They must be cunning devils " he exclaimed at last . " How could\r
+they have decoyed him down there ? The Embankment is not on the\r
+direct line to the station . The bridge , no doubt , was too\r
+crowded , even on such a night , for their purpose . Well , Watson ,\r
+we shall see who will win in the long run . I am going out now "\r
+\r
+" To the police "\r
+\r
+" No ; I shall be my own police . When I have spun the web they may\r
+take the flies , but not before "\r
+\r
+All day I was engaged in my professional work , and it was late in\r
+the evening before I returned to Baker Street . Sherlock Holmes\r
+had not come back yet . It was nearly ten o'clock before he\r
+entered , looking pale and worn . He walked up to the sideboard ,\r
+and tearing a piece from the loaf he devoured it voraciously ,\r
+washing it down with a long draught of water .\r
+\r
+" You are hungry " I remarked .\r
+\r
+" Starving . It had escaped my memory . I have had nothing since\r
+breakfast "\r
+\r
+" Nothing "\r
+\r
+" Not a bite . I had no time to think of it "\r
+\r
+" And how have you succeeded "\r
+\r
+" Well "\r
+\r
+" You have a clue "\r
+\r
+" I have them in the hollow of my hand . Young Openshaw shall not\r
+long remain unavenged . Why , Watson , let us put their own devilish\r
+trade - mark upon them . It is well thought of "\r
+\r
+" What do you mean "\r
+\r
+He took an orange from the cupboard , and tearing it to pieces he\r
+squeezed out the pips upon the table . Of these he took five and\r
+thrust them into an envelope . On the inside of the flap he wrote\r
+" S . H . for J . O " Then he sealed it and addressed it to " Captain\r
+James Calhoun , Barque ' Lone Star ' Savannah , Georgia "\r
+\r
+" That will await him when he enters port " said he , chuckling .\r
+" It may give him a sleepless night . He will find it as sure a\r
+precursor of his fate as Openshaw did before him "\r
+\r
+" And who is this Captain Calhoun "\r
+\r
+" The leader of the gang . I shall have the others , but he first "\r
+\r
+" How did you trace it , then "\r
+\r
+He took a large sheet of paper from his pocket , all covered with\r
+dates and names .\r
+\r
+" I have spent the whole day " said he , " over Lloyd's registers\r
+and files of the old papers , following the future career of every\r
+vessel which touched at Pondicherry in January and February in\r
+' 83 . There were thirty - six ships of fair tonnage which were\r
+reported there during those months . Of these , one , the ' Lone Star '\r
+instantly attracted my attention , since , although it was reported\r
+as having cleared from London , the name is that which is given to\r
+one of the states of the Union "\r
+\r
+" Texas , I think "\r
+\r
+" I was not and am not sure which ; but I knew that the ship must\r
+have an American origin "\r
+\r
+" What then "\r
+\r
+" I searched the Dundee records , and when I found that the barque\r
+' Lone Star ' was there in January , ' 85 , my suspicion became a\r
+certainty . I then inquired as to the vessels which lay at present\r
+in the port of London "\r
+\r
+" Yes "\r
+\r
+" The ' Lone Star ' had arrived here last week . I went down to the\r
+Albert Dock and found that she had been taken down the river by\r
+the early tide this morning , homeward bound to Savannah . I wired\r
+to Gravesend and learned that she had passed some time ago , and\r
+as the wind is easterly I have no doubt that she is now past the\r
+Goodwins and not very far from the Isle of Wight "\r
+\r
+" What will you do , then "\r
+\r
+" Oh , I have my hand upon him . He and the two mates , are as I\r
+learn , the only native - born Americans in the ship . The others are\r
+Finns and Germans . I know , also , that they were all three away\r
+from the ship last night . I had it from the stevedore who has\r
+been loading their cargo . By the time that their sailing - ship\r
+reaches Savannah the mail - boat will have carried this letter , and\r
+the cable will have informed the police of Savannah that these\r
+three gentlemen are badly wanted here upon a charge of murder "\r
+\r
+There is ever a flaw , however , in the best laid of human plans ,\r
+and the murderers of John Openshaw were never to receive the\r
+orange pips which would show them that another , as cunning and as\r
+resolute as themselves , was upon their track . Very long and very\r
+severe were the equinoctial gales that year . We waited long for\r
+news of the " Lone Star " of Savannah , but none ever reached us . We\r
+did at last hear that somewhere far out in the Atlantic a\r
+shattered stern - post of a boat was seen swinging in the trough\r
+of a wave , with the letters " L . S " carved upon it , and that is\r
+all which we shall ever know of the fate of the " Lone Star "\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+ADVENTURE VI . THE MAN WITH THE TWISTED LIP\r
+\r
+Isa Whitney , brother of the late Elias Whitney , D . D , Principal\r
+of the Theological College of St . George's , was much addicted to\r
+opium . The habit grew upon him , as I understand , from some\r
+foolish freak when he was at college ; for having read De\r
+Quincey's description of his dreams and sensations , he had\r
+drenched his tobacco with laudanum in an attempt to produce the\r
+same effects . He found , as so many more have done , that the\r
+practice is easier to attain than to get rid of , and for many\r
+years he continued to be a slave to the drug , an object of\r
+mingled horror and pity to his friends and relatives . I can see\r
+him now , with yellow , pasty face , drooping lids , and pin - point\r
+pupils , all huddled in a chair , the wreck and ruin of a noble\r
+man .\r
+\r
+One night - it was in June , ' 89 - there came a ring to my bell ,\r
+about the hour when a man gives his first yawn and glances at the\r
+clock . I sat up in my chair , and my wife laid her needle - work\r
+down in her lap and made a little face of disappointment .\r
+\r
+" A patient " said she . " You ' ll have to go out "\r
+\r
+I groaned , for I was newly come back from a weary day .\r
+\r
+We heard the door open , a few hurried words , and then quick steps\r
+upon the linoleum . Our own door flew open , and a lady , clad in\r
+some dark - coloured stuff , with a black veil , entered the room .\r
+\r
+" You will excuse my calling so late " she began , and then ,\r
+suddenly losing her self - control , she ran forward , threw her arms\r
+about my wife's neck , and sobbed upon her shoulder . " Oh , I ' m in\r
+such trouble " she cried ; " I do so want a little help "\r
+\r
+" Why " said my wife , pulling up her veil , " it is Kate Whitney .\r
+How you startled me , Kate ! I had not an idea who you were when\r
+you came in "\r
+\r
+" I didn't know what to do , so I came straight to you " That was\r
+always the way . Folk who were in grief came to my wife like birds\r
+to a light - house .\r
+\r
+" It was very sweet of you to come . Now , you must have some wine\r
+and water , and sit here comfortably and tell us all about it . Or\r
+should you rather that I sent James off to bed "\r
+\r
+" Oh , no , no ! I want the doctor's advice and help , too . It's about\r
+Isa . He has not been home for two days . I am so frightened about\r
+him "\r
+\r
+It was not the first time that she had spoken to us of her\r
+husband's trouble , to me as a doctor , to my wife as an old friend\r
+and school companion . We soothed and comforted her by such words\r
+as we could find . Did she know where her husband was ? Was it\r
+possible that we could bring him back to her ?\r
+\r
+It seems that it was . She had the surest information that of late\r
+he had , when the fit was on him , made use of an opium den in the\r
+farthest east of the City . Hitherto his orgies had always been\r
+confined to one day , and he had come back , twitching and\r
+shattered , in the evening . But now the spell had been upon him\r
+eight - and - forty hours , and he lay there , doubtless among the\r
+dregs of the docks , breathing in the poison or sleeping off the\r
+effects . There he was to be found , she was sure of it , at the Bar\r
+of Gold , in Upper Swandam Lane . But what was she to do ? How could\r
+she , a young and timid woman , make her way into such a place and\r
+pluck her husband out from among the ruffians who surrounded him ?\r
+\r
+There was the case , and of course there was but one way out of\r
+it . Might I not escort her to this place ? And then , as a second\r
+thought , why should she come at all ? I was Isa Whitney's medical\r
+adviser , and as such I had influence over him . I could manage it\r
+better if I were alone . I promised her on my word that I would\r
+send him home in a cab within two hours if he were indeed at the\r
+address which she had given me . And so in ten minutes I had left\r
+my armchair and cheery sitting - room behind me , and was speeding\r
+eastward in a hansom on a strange errand , as it seemed to me at\r
+the time , though the future only could show how strange it was to\r
+be .\r
+\r
+But there was no great difficulty in the first stage of my\r
+adventure . Upper Swandam Lane is a vile alley lurking behind the\r
+high wharves which line the north side of the river to the east\r
+of London Bridge . Between a slop - shop and a gin - shop , approached\r
+by a steep flight of steps leading down to a black gap like the\r
+mouth of a cave , I found the den of which I was in search .\r
+Ordering my cab to wait , I passed down the steps , worn hollow in\r
+the centre by the ceaseless tread of drunken feet ; and by the\r
+light of a flickering oil - lamp above the door I found the latch\r
+and made my way into a long , low room , thick and heavy with the\r
+brown opium smoke , and terraced with wooden berths , like the\r
+forecastle of an emigrant ship .\r
+\r
+Through the gloom one could dimly catch a glimpse of bodies lying\r
+in strange fantastic poses , bowed shoulders , bent knees , heads\r
+thrown back , and chins pointing upward , with here and there a\r
+dark , lack - lustre eye turned upon the newcomer . Out of the black\r
+shadows there glimmered little red circles of light , now bright ,\r
+now faint , as the burning poison waxed or waned in the bowls of\r
+the metal pipes . The most lay silent , but some muttered to\r
+themselves , and others talked together in a strange , low ,\r
+monotonous voice , their conversation coming in gushes , and then\r
+suddenly tailing off into silence , each mumbling out his own\r
+thoughts and paying little heed to the words of his neighbour . At\r
+the farther end was a small brazier of burning charcoal , beside\r
+which on a three - legged wooden stool there sat a tall , thin old\r
+man , with his jaw resting upon his two fists , and his elbows upon\r
+his knees , staring into the fire .\r
+\r
+As I entered , a sallow Malay attendant had hurried up with a pipe\r
+for me and a supply of the drug , beckoning me to an empty berth .\r
+\r
+" Thank you . I have not come to stay " said I . " There is a friend\r
+of mine here , Mr . Isa Whitney , and I wish to speak with him "\r
+\r
+There was a movement and an exclamation from my right , and\r
+peering through the gloom , I saw Whitney , pale , haggard , and\r
+unkempt , staring out at me .\r
+\r
+" My God ! It's Watson " said he . He was in a pitiable state of\r
+reaction , with every nerve in a twitter . " I say , Watson , what\r
+o'clock is it "\r
+\r
+" Nearly eleven "\r
+\r
+" Of what day "\r
+\r
+" Of Friday , June 19th "\r
+\r
+" Good heavens ! I thought it was Wednesday . It is Wednesday . What\r
+d ' you want to frighten a chap for " He sank his face onto his\r
+arms and began to sob in a high treble key .\r
+\r
+" I tell you that it is Friday , man . Your wife has been waiting\r
+this two days for you . You should be ashamed of yourself "\r
+\r
+" So I am . But you ' ve got mixed , Watson , for I have only been here\r
+a few hours , three pipes , four pipes - I forget how many . But I ' ll\r
+go home with you . I wouldn't frighten Kate - poor little Kate .\r
+Give me your hand ! Have you a cab "\r
+\r
+" Yes , I have one waiting "\r
+\r
+" Then I shall go in it . But I must owe something . Find what I\r
+owe , Watson . I am all off colour . I can do nothing for myself "\r
+\r
+I walked down the narrow passage between the double row of\r
+sleepers , holding my breath to keep out the vile , stupefying\r
+fumes of the drug , and looking about for the manager . As I passed\r
+the tall man who sat by the brazier I felt a sudden pluck at my\r
+skirt , and a low voice whispered , " Walk past me , and then look\r
+back at me " The words fell quite distinctly upon my ear . I\r
+glanced down . They could only have come from the old man at my\r
+side , and yet he sat now as absorbed as ever , very thin , very\r
+wrinkled , bent with age , an opium pipe dangling down from between\r
+his knees , as though it had dropped in sheer lassitude from his\r
+fingers . I took two steps forward and looked back . It took all my\r
+self - control to prevent me from breaking out into a cry of\r
+astonishment . He had turned his back so that none could see him\r
+but I . His form had filled out , his wrinkles were gone , the dull\r
+eyes had regained their fire , and there , sitting by the fire and\r
+grinning at my surprise , was none other than Sherlock Holmes . He\r
+made a slight motion to me to approach him , and instantly , as he\r
+turned his face half round to the company once more , subsided\r
+into a doddering , loose - lipped senility .\r
+\r
+" Holmes " I whispered , " what on earth are you doing in this den "\r
+\r
+" As low as you can " he answered ; " I have excellent ears . If you\r
+would have the great kindness to get rid of that sottish friend\r
+of yours I should be exceedingly glad to have a little talk with\r
+you "\r
+\r
+" I have a cab outside "\r
+\r
+" Then pray send him home in it . You may safely trust him , for he\r
+appears to be too limp to get into any mischief . I should\r
+recommend you also to send a note by the cabman to your wife to\r
+say that you have thrown in your lot with me . If you will wait\r
+outside , I shall be with you in five minutes "\r
+\r
+It was difficult to refuse any of Sherlock Holmes ' requests , for\r
+they were always so exceedingly definite , and put forward with\r
+such a quiet air of mastery . I felt , however , that when Whitney\r
+was once confined in the cab my mission was practically\r
+accomplished ; and for the rest , I could not wish anything better\r
+than to be associated with my friend in one of those singular\r
+adventures which were the normal condition of his existence . In a\r
+few minutes I had written my note , paid Whitney's bill , led him\r
+out to the cab , and seen him driven through the darkness . In a\r
+very short time a decrepit figure had emerged from the opium den ,\r
+and I was walking down the street with Sherlock Holmes . For two\r
+streets he shuffled along with a bent back and an uncertain foot .\r
+Then , glancing quickly round , he straightened himself out and\r
+burst into a hearty fit of laughter .\r
+\r
+" I suppose , Watson " said he , " that you imagine that I have added\r
+opium - smoking to cocaine injections , and all the other little\r
+weaknesses on which you have favoured me with your medical\r
+views "\r
+\r
+" I was certainly surprised to find you there "\r
+\r
+" But not more so than I to find you "\r
+\r
+" I came to find a friend "\r
+\r
+" And I to find an enemy "\r
+\r
+" An enemy "\r
+\r
+" Yes ; one of my natural enemies , or , shall I say , my natural\r
+prey . Briefly , Watson , I am in the midst of a very remarkable\r
+inquiry , and I have hoped to find a clue in the incoherent\r
+ramblings of these sots , as I have done before now . Had I been\r
+recognised in that den my life would not have been worth an\r
+hour's purchase ; for I have used it before now for my own\r
+purposes , and the rascally Lascar who runs it has sworn to have\r
+vengeance upon me . There is a trap - door at the back of that\r
+building , near the corner of Paul's Wharf , which could tell some\r
+strange tales of what has passed through it upon the moonless\r
+nights "\r
+\r
+" What ! You do not mean bodies "\r
+\r
+" Ay , bodies , Watson . We should be rich men if we had 1000 pounds\r
+for every poor devil who has been done to death in that den . It\r
+is the vilest murder - trap on the whole riverside , and I fear that\r
+Neville St . Clair has entered it never to leave it more . But our\r
+trap should be here " He put his two forefingers between his\r
+teeth and whistled shrilly - a signal which was answered by a\r
+similar whistle from the distance , followed shortly by the rattle\r
+of wheels and the clink of horses ' hoofs .\r
+\r
+" Now , Watson " said Holmes , as a tall dog - cart dashed up through\r
+the gloom , throwing out two golden tunnels of yellow light from\r
+its side lanterns . " You ' ll come with me , won't you "\r
+\r
+" If I can be of use "\r
+\r
+" Oh , a trusty comrade is always of use ; and a chronicler still\r
+more so . My room at The Cedars is a double - bedded one "\r
+\r
+" The Cedars "\r
+\r
+" Yes ; that is Mr . St . Clair's house . I am staying there while I\r
+conduct the inquiry "\r
+\r
+" Where is it , then "\r
+\r
+" Near Lee , in Kent . We have a seven - mile drive before us "\r
+\r
+" But I am all in the dark "\r
+\r
+" Of course you are . You ' ll know all about it presently . Jump up\r
+here . All right , John ; we shall not need you . Here's half a\r
+crown . Look out for me to - morrow , about eleven . Give her her\r
+head . So long , then "\r
+\r
+He flicked the horse with his whip , and we dashed away through\r
+the endless succession of sombre and deserted streets , which\r
+widened gradually , until we were flying across a broad\r
+balustraded bridge , with the murky river flowing sluggishly\r
+beneath us . Beyond lay another dull wilderness of bricks and\r
+mortar , its silence broken only by the heavy , regular footfall of\r
+the policeman , or the songs and shouts of some belated party of\r
+revellers . A dull wrack was drifting slowly across the sky , and a\r
+star or two twinkled dimly here and there through the rifts of\r
+the clouds . Holmes drove in silence , with his head sunk upon his\r
+breast , and the air of a man who is lost in thought , while I sat\r
+beside him , curious to learn what this new quest might be which\r
+seemed to tax his powers so sorely , and yet afraid to break in\r
+upon the current of his thoughts . We had driven several miles ,\r
+and were beginning to get to the fringe of the belt of suburban\r
+villas , when he shook himself , shrugged his shoulders , and lit up\r
+his pipe with the air of a man who has satisfied himself that he\r
+is acting for the best .\r
+\r
+" You have a grand gift of silence , Watson " said he . " It makes\r
+you quite invaluable as a companion . ' Pon my word , it is a great\r
+thing for me to have someone to talk to , for my own thoughts are\r
+not over - pleasant . I was wondering what I should say to this dear\r
+little woman to - night when she meets me at the door "\r
+\r
+" You forget that I know nothing about it "\r
+\r
+" I shall just have time to tell you the facts of the case before\r
+we get to Lee . It seems absurdly simple , and yet , somehow I can\r
+get nothing to go upon . There's plenty of thread , no doubt , but I\r
+can't get the end of it into my hand . Now , I ' ll state the case\r
+clearly and concisely to you , Watson , and maybe you can see a\r
+spark where all is dark to me "\r
+\r
+" Proceed , then "\r
+\r
+" Some years ago - to be definite , in May , 1884 - there came to Lee\r
+a gentleman , Neville St . Clair by name , who appeared to have\r
+plenty of money . He took a large villa , laid out the grounds very\r
+nicely , and lived generally in good style . By degrees he made\r
+friends in the neighbourhood , and in 1887 he married the daughter\r
+of a local brewer , by whom he now has two children . He had no\r
+occupation , but was interested in several companies and went into\r
+town as a rule in the morning , returning by the 5 : 14 from Cannon\r
+Street every night . Mr . St . Clair is now thirty - seven years of\r
+age , is a man of temperate habits , a good husband , a very\r
+affectionate father , and a man who is popular with all who know\r
+him . I may add that his whole debts at the present moment , as far\r
+as we have been able to ascertain , amount to 88 pounds 10s , while\r
+he has 220 pounds standing to his credit in the Capital and\r
+Counties Bank . There is no reason , therefore , to think that money\r
+troubles have been weighing upon his mind .\r
+\r
+" Last Monday Mr . Neville St . Clair went into town rather earlier\r
+than usual , remarking before he started that he had two important\r
+commissions to perform , and that he would bring his little boy\r
+home a box of bricks . Now , by the merest chance , his wife\r
+received a telegram upon this same Monday , very shortly after his\r
+departure , to the effect that a small parcel of considerable\r
+value which she had been expecting was waiting for her at the\r
+offices of the Aberdeen Shipping Company . Now , if you are well up\r
+in your London , you will know that the office of the company is\r
+in Fresno Street , which branches out of Upper Swandam Lane , where\r
+you found me to - night . Mrs . St . Clair had her lunch , started for\r
+the City , did some shopping , proceeded to the company's office ,\r
+got her packet , and found herself at exactly 4 : 35 walking through\r
+Swandam Lane on her way back to the station . Have you followed me\r
+so far "\r
+\r
+" It is very clear "\r
+\r
+" If you remember , Monday was an exceedingly hot day , and Mrs . St .\r
+Clair walked slowly , glancing about in the hope of seeing a cab ,\r
+as she did not like the neighbourhood in which she found herself .\r
+While she was walking in this way down Swandam Lane , she suddenly\r
+heard an ejaculation or cry , and was struck cold to see her\r
+husband looking down at her and , as it seemed to her , beckoning\r
+to her from a second - floor window . The window was open , and she\r
+distinctly saw his face , which she describes as being terribly\r
+agitated . He waved his hands frantically to her , and then\r
+vanished from the window so suddenly that it seemed to her that\r
+he had been plucked back by some irresistible force from behind .\r
+One singular point which struck her quick feminine eye was that\r
+although he wore some dark coat , such as he had started to town\r
+in , he had on neither collar nor necktie .\r
+\r
+" Convinced that something was amiss with him , she rushed down the\r
+steps - for the house was none other than the opium den in which\r
+you found me to - night - and running through the front room she\r
+attempted to ascend the stairs which led to the first floor . At\r
+the foot of the stairs , however , she met this Lascar scoundrel of\r
+whom I have spoken , who thrust her back and , aided by a Dane , who\r
+acts as assistant there , pushed her out into the street . Filled\r
+with the most maddening doubts and fears , she rushed down the\r
+lane and , by rare good - fortune , met in Fresno Street a number of\r
+constables with an inspector , all on their way to their beat . The\r
+inspector and two men accompanied her back , and in spite of the\r
+continued resistance of the proprietor , they made their way to\r
+the room in which Mr . St . Clair had last been seen . There was no\r
+sign of him there . In fact , in the whole of that floor there was\r
+no one to be found save a crippled wretch of hideous aspect , who ,\r
+it seems , made his home there . Both he and the Lascar stoutly\r
+swore that no one else had been in the front room during the\r
+afternoon . So determined was their denial that the inspector was\r
+staggered , and had almost come to believe that Mrs . St . Clair had\r
+been deluded when , with a cry , she sprang at a small deal box\r
+which lay upon the table and tore the lid from it . Out there fell\r
+a cascade of children's bricks . It was the toy which he had\r
+promised to bring home .\r
+\r
+" This discovery , and the evident confusion which the cripple\r
+showed , made the inspector realise that the matter was serious .\r
+The rooms were carefully examined , and results all pointed to an\r
+abominable crime . The front room was plainly furnished as a\r
+sitting - room and led into a small bedroom , which looked out upon\r
+the back of one of the wharves . Between the wharf and the bedroom\r
+window is a narrow strip , which is dry at low tide but is covered\r
+at high tide with at least four and a half feet of water . The\r
+bedroom window was a broad one and opened from below . On\r
+examination traces of blood were to be seen upon the windowsill ,\r
+and several scattered drops were visible upon the wooden floor of\r
+the bedroom . Thrust away behind a curtain in the front room were\r
+all the clothes of Mr . Neville St . Clair , with the exception of\r
+his coat . His boots , his socks , his hat , and his watch - all were\r
+there . There were no signs of violence upon any of these\r
+garments , and there were no other traces of Mr . Neville St .\r
+Clair . Out of the window he must apparently have gone for no\r
+other exit could be discovered , and the ominous bloodstains upon\r
+the sill gave little promise that he could save himself by\r
+swimming , for the tide was at its very highest at the moment of\r
+the tragedy .\r
+\r
+" And now as to the villains who seemed to be immediately\r
+implicated in the matter . The Lascar was known to be a man of the\r
+vilest antecedents , but as , by Mrs . St . Clair's story , he was\r
+known to have been at the foot of the stair within a very few\r
+seconds of her husband's appearance at the window , he could\r
+hardly have been more than an accessory to the crime . His defence\r
+was one of absolute ignorance , and he protested that he had no\r
+knowledge as to the doings of Hugh Boone , his lodger , and that he\r
+could not account in any way for the presence of the missing\r
+gentleman's clothes .\r
+\r
+" So much for the Lascar manager . Now for the sinister cripple who\r
+lives upon the second floor of the opium den , and who was\r
+certainly the last human being whose eyes rested upon Neville St .\r
+Clair . His name is Hugh Boone , and his hideous face is one which\r
+is familiar to every man who goes much to the City . He is a\r
+professional beggar , though in order to avoid the police\r
+regulations he pretends to a small trade in wax vestas . Some\r
+little distance down Threadneedle Street , upon the left - hand\r
+side , there is , as you may have remarked , a small angle in the\r
+wall . Here it is that this creature takes his daily seat ,\r
+cross - legged with his tiny stock of matches on his lap , and as he\r
+is a piteous spectacle a small rain of charity descends into the\r
+greasy leather cap which lies upon the pavement beside him . I\r
+have watched the fellow more than once before ever I thought of\r
+making his professional acquaintance , and I have been surprised\r
+at the harvest which he has reaped in a short time . His\r
+appearance , you see , is so remarkable that no one can pass him\r
+without observing him . A shock of orange hair , a pale face\r
+disfigured by a horrible scar , which , by its contraction , has\r
+turned up the outer edge of his upper lip , a bulldog chin , and a\r
+pair of very penetrating dark eyes , which present a singular\r
+contrast to the colour of his hair , all mark him out from amid\r
+the common crowd of mendicants and so , too , does his wit , for he\r
+is ever ready with a reply to any piece of chaff which may be\r
+thrown at him by the passers - by . This is the man whom we now\r
+learn to have been the lodger at the opium den , and to have been\r
+the last man to see the gentleman of whom we are in quest "\r
+\r
+" But a cripple " said I . " What could he have done single - handed\r
+against a man in the prime of life "\r
+\r
+" He is a cripple in the sense that he walks with a limp ; but in\r
+other respects he appears to be a powerful and well - nurtured man .\r
+Surely your medical experience would tell you , Watson , that\r
+weakness in one limb is often compensated for by exceptional\r
+strength in the others "\r
+\r
+" Pray continue your narrative "\r
+\r
+" Mrs . St . Clair had fainted at the sight of the blood upon the\r
+window , and she was escorted home in a cab by the police , as her\r
+presence could be of no help to them in their investigations .\r
+Inspector Barton , who had charge of the case , made a very careful\r
+examination of the premises , but without finding anything which\r
+threw any light upon the matter . One mistake had been made in not\r
+arresting Boone instantly , as he was allowed some few minutes\r
+during which he might have communicated with his friend the\r
+Lascar , but this fault was soon remedied , and he was seized and\r
+searched , without anything being found which could incriminate\r
+him . There were , it is true , some blood - stains upon his right\r
+shirt - sleeve , but he pointed to his ring - finger , which had been\r
+cut near the nail , and explained that the bleeding came from\r
+there , adding that he had been to the window not long before , and\r
+that the stains which had been observed there came doubtless from\r
+the same source . He denied strenuously having ever seen Mr .\r
+Neville St . Clair and swore that the presence of the clothes in\r
+his room was as much a mystery to him as to the police . As to\r
+Mrs . St . Clair's assertion that she had actually seen her husband\r
+at the window , he declared that she must have been either mad or\r
+dreaming . He was removed , loudly protesting , to the\r
+police - station , while the inspector remained upon the premises in\r
+the hope that the ebbing tide might afford some fresh clue .\r
+\r
+" And it did , though they hardly found upon the mud - bank what they\r
+had feared to find . It was Neville St . Clair's coat , and not\r
+Neville St . Clair , which lay uncovered as the tide receded . And\r
+what do you think they found in the pockets "\r
+\r
+" I cannot imagine "\r
+\r
+" No , I don't think you would guess . Every pocket stuffed with\r
+pennies and half - pennies - 421 pennies and 270 half - pennies . It\r
+was no wonder that it had not been swept away by the tide . But a\r
+human body is a different matter . There is a fierce eddy between\r
+the wharf and the house . It seemed likely enough that the\r
+weighted coat had remained when the stripped body had been sucked\r
+away into the river "\r
+\r
+" But I understand that all the other clothes were found in the\r
+room . Would the body be dressed in a coat alone "\r
+\r
+" No , sir , but the facts might be met speciously enough . Suppose\r
+that this man Boone had thrust Neville St . Clair through the\r
+window , there is no human eye which could have seen the deed .\r
+What would he do then ? It would of course instantly strike him\r
+that he must get rid of the tell - tale garments . He would seize\r
+the coat , then , and be in the act of throwing it out , when it\r
+would occur to him that it would swim and not sink . He has little\r
+time , for he has heard the scuffle downstairs when the wife tried\r
+to force her way up , and perhaps he has already heard from his\r
+Lascar confederate that the police are hurrying up the street .\r
+There is not an instant to be lost . He rushes to some secret\r
+hoard , where he has accumulated the fruits of his beggary , and he\r
+stuffs all the coins upon which he can lay his hands into the\r
+pockets to make sure of the coat's sinking . He throws it out , and\r
+would have done the same with the other garments had not he heard\r
+the rush of steps below , and only just had time to close the\r
+window when the police appeared "\r
+\r
+" It certainly sounds feasible "\r
+\r
+" Well , we will take it as a working hypothesis for want of a\r
+better . Boone , as I have told you , was arrested and taken to the\r
+station , but it could not be shown that there had ever before\r
+been anything against him . He had for years been known as a\r
+professional beggar , but his life appeared to have been a very\r
+quiet and innocent one . There the matter stands at present , and\r
+the questions which have to be solved - what Neville St . Clair was\r
+doing in the opium den , what happened to him when there , where is\r
+he now , and what Hugh Boone had to do with his disappearance - are\r
+all as far from a solution as ever . I confess that I cannot\r
+recall any case within my experience which looked at the first\r
+glance so simple and yet which presented such difficulties "\r
+\r
+While Sherlock Holmes had been detailing this singular series of\r
+events , we had been whirling through the outskirts of the great\r
+town until the last straggling houses had been left behind , and\r
+we rattled along with a country hedge upon either side of us .\r
+Just as he finished , however , we drove through two scattered\r
+villages , where a few lights still glimmered in the windows .\r
+\r
+" We are on the outskirts of Lee " said my companion . " We have\r
+touched on three English counties in our short drive , starting in\r
+Middlesex , passing over an angle of Surrey , and ending in Kent .\r
+See that light among the trees ? That is The Cedars , and beside\r
+that lamp sits a woman whose anxious ears have already , I have\r
+little doubt , caught the clink of our horse's feet "\r
+\r
+" But why are you not conducting the case from Baker Street " I\r
+asked .\r
+\r
+" Because there are many inquiries which must be made out here .\r
+Mrs . St . Clair has most kindly put two rooms at my disposal , and\r
+you may rest assured that she will have nothing but a welcome for\r
+my friend and colleague . I hate to meet her , Watson , when I have\r
+no news of her husband . Here we are . Whoa , there , whoa "\r
+\r
+We had pulled up in front of a large villa which stood within its\r
+own grounds . A stable - boy had run out to the horse's head , and\r
+springing down , I followed Holmes up the small , winding\r
+gravel - drive which led to the house . As we approached , the door\r
+flew open , and a little blonde woman stood in the opening , clad\r
+in some sort of light mousseline de soie , with a touch of fluffy\r
+pink chiffon at her neck and wrists . She stood with her figure\r
+outlined against the flood of light , one hand upon the door , one\r
+half - raised in her eagerness , her body slightly bent , her head\r
+and face protruded , with eager eyes and parted lips , a standing\r
+question .\r
+\r
+" Well " she cried , " well " And then , seeing that there were two\r
+of us , she gave a cry of hope which sank into a groan as she saw\r
+that my companion shook his head and shrugged his shoulders .\r
+\r
+" No good news "\r
+\r
+" None "\r
+\r
+" No bad "\r
+\r
+" No "\r
+\r
+" Thank God for that . But come in . You must be weary , for you have\r
+had a long day "\r
+\r
+" This is my friend , Dr . Watson . He has been of most vital use to\r
+me in several of my cases , and a lucky chance has made it\r
+possible for me to bring him out and associate him with this\r
+investigation "\r
+\r
+" I am delighted to see you " said she , pressing my hand warmly .\r
+" You will , I am sure , forgive anything that may be wanting in our\r
+arrangements , when you consider the blow which has come so\r
+suddenly upon us "\r
+\r
+" My dear madam " said I , " I am an old campaigner , and if I were\r
+not I can very well see that no apology is needed . If I can be of\r
+any assistance , either to you or to my friend here , I shall be\r
+indeed happy "\r
+\r
+" Now , Mr . Sherlock Holmes " said the lady as we entered a\r
+well - lit dining - room , upon the table of which a cold supper had\r
+been laid out , " I should very much like to ask you one or two\r
+plain questions , to which I beg that you will give a plain\r
+answer "\r
+\r
+" Certainly , madam "\r
+\r
+" Do not trouble about my feelings . I am not hysterical , nor given\r
+to fainting . I simply wish to hear your real , real opinion "\r
+\r
+" Upon what point "\r
+\r
+" In your heart of hearts , do you think that Neville is alive "\r
+\r
+Sherlock Holmes seemed to be embarrassed by the question .\r
+" Frankly , now " she repeated , standing upon the rug and looking\r
+keenly down at him as he leaned back in a basket - chair .\r
+\r
+" Frankly , then , madam , I do not "\r
+\r
+" You think that he is dead "\r
+\r
+" I do "\r
+\r
+" Murdered "\r
+\r
+" I don't say that . Perhaps "\r
+\r
+" And on what day did he meet his death "\r
+\r
+" On Monday "\r
+\r
+" Then perhaps , Mr . Holmes , you will be good enough to explain how\r
+it is that I have received a letter from him to - day "\r
+\r
+Sherlock Holmes sprang out of his chair as if he had been\r
+galvanised .\r
+\r
+" What " he roared .\r
+\r
+" Yes , to - day " She stood smiling , holding up a little slip of\r
+paper in the air .\r
+\r
+" May I see it "\r
+\r
+" Certainly "\r
+\r
+He snatched it from her in his eagerness , and smoothing it out\r
+upon the table he drew over the lamp and examined it intently . I\r
+had left my chair and was gazing at it over his shoulder . The\r
+envelope was a very coarse one and was stamped with the Gravesend\r
+postmark and with the date of that very day , or rather of the day\r
+before , for it was considerably after midnight .\r
+\r
+" Coarse writing " murmured Holmes . " Surely this is not your\r
+husband's writing , madam "\r
+\r
+" No , but the enclosure is "\r
+\r
+" I perceive also that whoever addressed the envelope had to go\r
+and inquire as to the address "\r
+\r
+" How can you tell that "\r
+\r
+" The name , you see , is in perfectly black ink , which has dried\r
+itself . The rest is of the greyish colour , which shows that\r
+blotting - paper has been used . If it had been written straight\r
+off , and then blotted , none would be of a deep black shade . This\r
+man has written the name , and there has then been a pause before\r
+he wrote the address , which can only mean that he was not\r
+familiar with it . It is , of course , a trifle , but there is\r
+nothing so important as trifles . Let us now see the letter . Ha !\r
+there has been an enclosure here "\r
+\r
+" Yes , there was a ring . His signet - ring "\r
+\r
+" And you are sure that this is your husband's hand "\r
+\r
+" One of his hands "\r
+\r
+" One "\r
+\r
+" His hand when he wrote hurriedly . It is very unlike his usual\r
+writing , and yet I know it well "\r
+\r
+ ' Dearest do not be frightened . All will come well . There is a\r
+huge error which it may take some little time to rectify .\r
+Wait in patience -- NEVILLE ' Written in pencil upon the fly - leaf\r
+of a book , octavo size , no water - mark . Hum ! Posted to - day in\r
+Gravesend by a man with a dirty thumb . Ha ! And the flap has been\r
+gummed , if I am not very much in error , by a person who had been\r
+chewing tobacco . And you have no doubt that it is your husband's\r
+hand , madam "\r
+\r
+" None . Neville wrote those words "\r
+\r
+" And they were posted to - day at Gravesend . Well , Mrs . St . Clair ,\r
+the clouds lighten , though I should not venture to say that the\r
+danger is over "\r
+\r
+" But he must be alive , Mr . Holmes "\r
+\r
+" Unless this is a clever forgery to put us on the wrong scent .\r
+The ring , after all , proves nothing . It may have been taken from\r
+him "\r
+\r
+" No , no ; it is , it is his very own writing "\r
+\r
+" Very well . It may , however , have been written on Monday and only\r
+posted to - day "\r
+\r
+" That is possible "\r
+\r
+" If so , much may have happened between "\r
+\r
+" Oh , you must not discourage me , Mr . Holmes . I know that all is\r
+well with him . There is so keen a sympathy between us that I\r
+should know if evil came upon him . On the very day that I saw him\r
+last he cut himself in the bedroom , and yet I in the dining - room\r
+rushed upstairs instantly with the utmost certainty that\r
+something had happened . Do you think that I would respond to such\r
+a trifle and yet be ignorant of his death "\r
+\r
+" I have seen too much not to know that the impression of a woman\r
+may be more valuable than the conclusion of an analytical\r
+reasoner . And in this letter you certainly have a very strong\r
+piece of evidence to corroborate your view . But if your husband\r
+is alive and able to write letters , why should he remain away\r
+from you "\r
+\r
+" I cannot imagine . It is unthinkable "\r
+\r
+" And on Monday he made no remarks before leaving you "\r
+\r
+" No "\r
+\r
+" And you were surprised to see him in Swandam Lane "\r
+\r
+" Very much so "\r
+\r
+" Was the window open "\r
+\r
+" Yes "\r
+\r
+" Then he might have called to you "\r
+\r
+" He might "\r
+\r
+" He only , as I understand , gave an inarticulate cry "\r
+\r
+" Yes "\r
+\r
+" A call for help , you thought "\r
+\r
+" Yes . He waved his hands "\r
+\r
+" But it might have been a cry of surprise . Astonishment at the\r
+unexpected sight of you might cause him to throw up his hands "\r
+\r
+" It is possible "\r
+\r
+" And you thought he was pulled back "\r
+\r
+" He disappeared so suddenly "\r
+\r
+" He might have leaped back . You did not see anyone else in the\r
+room "\r
+\r
+" No , but this horrible man confessed to having been there , and\r
+the Lascar was at the foot of the stairs "\r
+\r
+" Quite so . Your husband , as far as you could see , had his\r
+ordinary clothes on "\r
+\r
+" But without his collar or tie . I distinctly saw his bare\r
+throat "\r
+\r
+" Had he ever spoken of Swandam Lane "\r
+\r
+" Never "\r
+\r
+" Had he ever showed any signs of having taken opium "\r
+\r
+" Never "\r
+\r
+" Thank you , Mrs . St . Clair . Those are the principal points about\r
+which I wished to be absolutely clear . We shall now have a little\r
+supper and then retire , for we may have a very busy day\r
+to - morrow "\r
+\r
+A large and comfortable double - bedded room had been placed at our\r
+disposal , and I was quickly between the sheets , for I was weary\r
+after my night of adventure . Sherlock Holmes was a man , however ,\r
+who , when he had an unsolved problem upon his mind , would go for\r
+days , and even for a week , without rest , turning it over ,\r
+rearranging his facts , looking at it from every point of view\r
+until he had either fathomed it or convinced himself that his\r
+data were insufficient . It was soon evident to me that he was now\r
+preparing for an all - night sitting . He took off his coat and\r
+waistcoat , put on a large blue dressing - gown , and then wandered\r
+about the room collecting pillows from his bed and cushions from\r
+the sofa and armchairs . With these he constructed a sort of\r
+Eastern divan , upon which he perched himself cross - legged , with\r
+an ounce of shag tobacco and a box of matches laid out in front\r
+of him . In the dim light of the lamp I saw him sitting there , an\r
+old briar pipe between his lips , his eyes fixed vacantly upon the\r
+corner of the ceiling , the blue smoke curling up from him ,\r
+silent , motionless , with the light shining upon his strong - set\r
+aquiline features . So he sat as I dropped off to sleep , and so he\r
+sat when a sudden ejaculation caused me to wake up , and I found\r
+the summer sun shining into the apartment . The pipe was still\r
+between his lips , the smoke still curled upward , and the room was\r
+full of a dense tobacco haze , but nothing remained of the heap of\r
+shag which I had seen upon the previous night .\r
+\r
+" Awake , Watson " he asked .\r
+\r
+" Yes "\r
+\r
+" Game for a morning drive "\r
+\r
+" Certainly "\r
+\r
+" Then dress . No one is stirring yet , but I know where the\r
+stable - boy sleeps , and we shall soon have the trap out " He\r
+chuckled to himself as he spoke , his eyes twinkled , and he seemed\r
+a different man to the sombre thinker of the previous night .\r
+\r
+As I dressed I glanced at my watch . It was no wonder that no one\r
+was stirring . It was twenty - five minutes past four . I had hardly\r
+finished when Holmes returned with the news that the boy was\r
+putting in the horse .\r
+\r
+" I want to test a little theory of mine " said he , pulling on his\r
+boots . " I think , Watson , that you are now standing in the\r
+presence of one of the most absolute fools in Europe . I deserve\r
+to be kicked from here to Charing Cross . But I think I have the\r
+key of the affair now "\r
+\r
+" And where is it " I asked , smiling .\r
+\r
+" In the bathroom " he answered . " Oh , yes , I am not joking " he\r
+continued , seeing my look of incredulity . " I have just been\r
+there , and I have taken it out , and I have got it in this\r
+Gladstone bag . Come on , my boy , and we shall see whether it will\r
+not fit the lock "\r
+\r
+We made our way downstairs as quietly as possible , and out into\r
+the bright morning sunshine . In the road stood our horse and\r
+trap , with the half - clad stable - boy waiting at the head . We both\r
+sprang in , and away we dashed down the London Road . A few country\r
+carts were stirring , bearing in vegetables to the metropolis , but\r
+the lines of villas on either side were as silent and lifeless as\r
+some city in a dream .\r
+\r
+" It has been in some points a singular case " said Holmes ,\r
+flicking the horse on into a gallop . " I confess that I have been\r
+as blind as a mole , but it is better to learn wisdom late than\r
+never to learn it at all "\r
+\r
+In town the earliest risers were just beginning to look sleepily\r
+from their windows as we drove through the streets of the Surrey\r
+side . Passing down the Waterloo Bridge Road we crossed over the\r
+river , and dashing up Wellington Street wheeled sharply to the\r
+right and found ourselves in Bow Street . Sherlock Holmes was well\r
+known to the force , and the two constables at the door saluted\r
+him . One of them held the horse's head while the other led us in .\r
+\r
+" Who is on duty " asked Holmes .\r
+\r
+" Inspector Bradstreet , sir "\r
+\r
+" Ah , Bradstreet , how are you " A tall , stout official had come\r
+down the stone - flagged passage , in a peaked cap and frogged\r
+jacket . " I wish to have a quiet word with you , Bradstreet "\r
+" Certainly , Mr . Holmes . Step into my room here " It was a small ,\r
+office - like room , with a huge ledger upon the table , and a\r
+telephone projecting from the wall . The inspector sat down at his\r
+desk .\r
+\r
+" What can I do for you , Mr . Holmes "\r
+\r
+" I called about that beggarman , Boone - the one who was charged\r
+with being concerned in the disappearance of Mr . Neville St .\r
+Clair , of Lee "\r
+\r
+" Yes . He was brought up and remanded for further inquiries "\r
+\r
+" So I heard . You have him here "\r
+\r
+" In the cells "\r
+\r
+" Is he quiet "\r
+\r
+" Oh , he gives no trouble . But he is a dirty scoundrel "\r
+\r
+" Dirty "\r
+\r
+" Yes , it is all we can do to make him wash his hands , and his\r
+face is as black as a tinker's . Well , when once his case has been\r
+settled , he will have a regular prison bath ; and I think , if you\r
+saw him , you would agree with me that he needed it "\r
+\r
+" I should like to see him very much "\r
+\r
+" Would you ? That is easily done . Come this way . You can leave\r
+your bag "\r
+\r
+" No , I think that I ' ll take it "\r
+\r
+" Very good . Come this way , if you please " He led us down a\r
+passage , opened a barred door , passed down a winding stair , and\r
+brought us to a whitewashed corridor with a line of doors on each\r
+side .\r
+\r
+" The third on the right is his " said the inspector . " Here it\r
+is " He quietly shot back a panel in the upper part of the door\r
+and glanced through .\r
+\r
+" He is asleep " said he . " You can see him very well "\r
+\r
+We both put our eyes to the grating . The prisoner lay with his\r
+face towards us , in a very deep sleep , breathing slowly and\r
+heavily . He was a middle - sized man , coarsely clad as became his\r
+calling , with a coloured shirt protruding through the rent in his\r
+tattered coat . He was , as the inspector had said , extremely\r
+dirty , but the grime which covered his face could not conceal its\r
+repulsive ugliness . A broad wheal from an old scar ran right\r
+across it from eye to chin , and by its contraction had turned up\r
+one side of the upper lip , so that three teeth were exposed in a\r
+perpetual snarl . A shock of very bright red hair grew low over\r
+his eyes and forehead .\r
+\r
+" He's a beauty , isn't he " said the inspector .\r
+\r
+" He certainly needs a wash " remarked Holmes . " I had an idea that\r
+he might , and I took the liberty of bringing the tools with me "\r
+He opened the Gladstone bag as he spoke , and took out , to my\r
+astonishment , a very large bath - sponge .\r
+\r
+" He ! he ! You are a funny one " chuckled the inspector .\r
+\r
+" Now , if you will have the great goodness to open that door very\r
+quietly , we will soon make him cut a much more respectable\r
+figure "\r
+\r
+" Well , I don't know why not " said the inspector . " He doesn ' t\r
+look a credit to the Bow Street cells , does he " He slipped his\r
+key into the lock , and we all very quietly entered the cell . The\r
+sleeper half turned , and then settled down once more into a deep\r
+slumber . Holmes stooped to the water - jug , moistened his sponge ,\r
+and then rubbed it twice vigorously across and down the\r
+prisoner's face .\r
+\r
+" Let me introduce you " he shouted , " to Mr . Neville St . Clair , of\r
+Lee , in the county of Kent "\r
+\r
+Never in my life have I seen such a sight . The man's face peeled\r
+off under the sponge like the bark from a tree . Gone was the\r
+coarse brown tint ! Gone , too , was the horrid scar which had\r
+seamed it across , and the twisted lip which had given the\r
+repulsive sneer to the face ! A twitch brought away the tangled\r
+red hair , and there , sitting up in his bed , was a pale ,\r
+sad - faced , refined - looking man , black - haired and smooth - skinned ,\r
+rubbing his eyes and staring about him with sleepy bewilderment .\r
+Then suddenly realising the exposure , he broke into a scream and\r
+threw himself down with his face to the pillow .\r
+\r
+" Great heavens " cried the inspector , " it is , indeed , the missing\r
+man . I know him from the photograph "\r
+\r
+The prisoner turned with the reckless air of a man who abandons\r
+himself to his destiny . " Be it so " said he . " And pray what am I\r
+charged with "\r
+\r
+" With making away with Mr . Neville St -- Oh , come , you can't be\r
+charged with that unless they make a case of attempted suicide of\r
+it " said the inspector with a grin . " Well , I have been\r
+twenty - seven years in the force , but this really takes the cake "\r
+\r
+" If I am Mr . Neville St . Clair , then it is obvious that no crime\r
+has been committed , and that , therefore , I am illegally\r
+detained "\r
+\r
+" No crime , but a very great error has been committed " said\r
+Holmes . " You would have done better to have trusted your wife "\r
+\r
+" It was not the wife ; it was the children " groaned the prisoner .\r
+" God help me , I would not have them ashamed of their father . My\r
+God ! What an exposure ! What can I do "\r
+\r
+Sherlock Holmes sat down beside him on the couch and patted him\r
+kindly on the shoulder .\r
+\r
+" If you leave it to a court of law to clear the matter up " said\r
+he , " of course you can hardly avoid publicity . On the other hand ,\r
+if you convince the police authorities that there is no possible\r
+case against you , I do not know that there is any reason that the\r
+details should find their way into the papers . Inspector\r
+Bradstreet would , I am sure , make notes upon anything which you\r
+might tell us and submit it to the proper authorities . The case\r
+would then never go into court at all "\r
+\r
+" God bless you " cried the prisoner passionately . " I would have\r
+endured imprisonment , ay , even execution , rather than have left\r
+my miserable secret as a family blot to my children .\r
+\r
+" You are the first who have ever heard my story . My father was a\r
+schoolmaster in Chesterfield , where I received an excellent\r
+education . I travelled in my youth , took to the stage , and\r
+finally became a reporter on an evening paper in London . One day\r
+my editor wished to have a series of articles upon begging in the\r
+metropolis , and I volunteered to supply them . There was the point\r
+from which all my adventures started . It was only by trying\r
+begging as an amateur that I could get the facts upon which to\r
+base my articles . When an actor I had , of course , learned all the\r
+secrets of making up , and had been famous in the green - room for\r
+my skill . I took advantage now of my attainments . I painted my\r
+face , and to make myself as pitiable as possible I made a good\r
+scar and fixed one side of my lip in a twist by the aid of a\r
+small slip of flesh - coloured plaster . Then with a red head of\r
+hair , and an appropriate dress , I took my station in the business\r
+part of the city , ostensibly as a match - seller but really as a\r
+beggar . For seven hours I plied my trade , and when I returned\r
+home in the evening I found to my surprise that I had received no\r
+less than 26s . 4d .\r
+\r
+" I wrote my articles and thought little more of the matter until ,\r
+some time later , I backed a bill for a friend and had a writ\r
+served upon me for 25 pounds . I was at my wit's end where to get\r
+the money , but a sudden idea came to me . I begged a fortnight's\r
+grace from the creditor , asked for a holiday from my employers ,\r
+and spent the time in begging in the City under my disguise . In\r
+ten days I had the money and had paid the debt .\r
+\r
+" Well , you can imagine how hard it was to settle down to arduous\r
+work at 2 pounds a week when I knew that I could earn as much in\r
+a day by smearing my face with a little paint , laying my cap on\r
+the ground , and sitting still . It was a long fight between my\r
+pride and the money , but the dollars won at last , and I threw up\r
+reporting and sat day after day in the corner which I had first\r
+chosen , inspiring pity by my ghastly face and filling my pockets\r
+with coppers . Only one man knew my secret . He was the keeper of a\r
+low den in which I used to lodge in Swandam Lane , where I could\r
+every morning emerge as a squalid beggar and in the evenings\r
+transform myself into a well - dressed man about town . This fellow ,\r
+a Lascar , was well paid by me for his rooms , so that I knew that\r
+my secret was safe in his possession .\r
+\r
+" Well , very soon I found that I was saving considerable sums of\r
+money . I do not mean that any beggar in the streets of London\r
+could earn 700 pounds a year - which is less than my average\r
+takings - but I had exceptional advantages in my power of making\r
+up , and also in a facility of repartee , which improved by\r
+practice and made me quite a recognised character in the City .\r
+All day a stream of pennies , varied by silver , poured in upon me ,\r
+and it was a very bad day in which I failed to take 2 pounds .\r
+\r
+" As I grew richer I grew more ambitious , took a house in the\r
+country , and eventually married , without anyone having a\r
+suspicion as to my real occupation . My dear wife knew that I had\r
+business in the City . She little knew what .\r
+\r
+" Last Monday I had finished for the day and was dressing in my\r
+room above the opium den when I looked out of my window and saw ,\r
+to my horror and astonishment , that my wife was standing in the\r
+street , with her eyes fixed full upon me . I gave a cry of\r
+surprise , threw up my arms to cover my face , and , rushing to my\r
+confidant , the Lascar , entreated him to prevent anyone from\r
+coming up to me . I heard her voice downstairs , but I knew that\r
+she could not ascend . Swiftly I threw off my clothes , pulled on\r
+those of a beggar , and put on my pigments and wig . Even a wife's\r
+eyes could not pierce so complete a disguise . But then it\r
+occurred to me that there might be a search in the room , and that\r
+the clothes might betray me . I threw open the window , reopening\r
+by my violence a small cut which I had inflicted upon myself in\r
+the bedroom that morning . Then I seized my coat , which was\r
+weighted by the coppers which I had just transferred to it from\r
+the leather bag in which I carried my takings . I hurled it out of\r
+the window , and it disappeared into the Thames . The other clothes\r
+would have followed , but at that moment there was a rush of\r
+constables up the stair , and a few minutes after I found , rather ,\r
+I confess , to my relief , that instead of being identified as Mr .\r
+Neville St . Clair , I was arrested as his murderer .\r
+\r
+" I do not know that there is anything else for me to explain . I\r
+was determined to preserve my disguise as long as possible , and\r
+hence my preference for a dirty face . Knowing that my wife would\r
+be terribly anxious , I slipped off my ring and confided it to the\r
+Lascar at a moment when no constable was watching me , together\r
+with a hurried scrawl , telling her that she had no cause to\r
+fear "\r
+\r
+" That note only reached her yesterday " said Holmes .\r
+\r
+" Good God ! What a week she must have spent "\r
+\r
+" The police have watched this Lascar " said Inspector Bradstreet ,\r
+" and I can quite understand that he might find it difficult to\r
+post a letter unobserved . Probably he handed it to some sailor\r
+customer of his , who forgot all about it for some days "\r
+\r
+" That was it " said Holmes , nodding approvingly ; " I have no doubt\r
+of it . But have you never been prosecuted for begging "\r
+\r
+" Many times ; but what was a fine to me "\r
+\r
+" It must stop here , however " said Bradstreet . " If the police are\r
+to hush this thing up , there must be no more of Hugh Boone "\r
+\r
+" I have sworn it by the most solemn oaths which a man can take "\r
+\r
+" In that case I think that it is probable that no further steps\r
+may be taken . But if you are found again , then all must come out .\r
+I am sure , Mr . Holmes , that we are very much indebted to you for\r
+having cleared the matter up . I wish I knew how you reach your\r
+results "\r
+\r
+" I reached this one " said my friend , " by sitting upon five\r
+pillows and consuming an ounce of shag . I think , Watson , that if\r
+we drive to Baker Street we shall just be in time for breakfast "\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+VII . THE ADVENTURE OF THE BLUE CARBUNCLE\r
+\r
+I had called upon my friend Sherlock Holmes upon the second\r
+morning after Christmas , with the intention of wishing him the\r
+compliments of the season . He was lounging upon the sofa in a\r
+purple dressing - gown , a pipe - rack within his reach upon the\r
+right , and a pile of crumpled morning papers , evidently newly\r
+studied , near at hand . Beside the couch was a wooden chair , and\r
+on the angle of the back hung a very seedy and disreputable\r
+hard - felt hat , much the worse for wear , and cracked in several\r
+places . A lens and a forceps lying upon the seat of the chair\r
+suggested that the hat had been suspended in this manner for the\r
+purpose of examination .\r
+\r
+" You are engaged " said I ; " perhaps I interrupt you "\r
+\r
+" Not at all . I am glad to have a friend with whom I can discuss\r
+my results . The matter is a perfectly trivial one -- he jerked his\r
+thumb in the direction of the old hat -" but there are points in\r
+connection with it which are not entirely devoid of interest and\r
+even of instruction "\r
+\r
+I seated myself in his armchair and warmed my hands before his\r
+crackling fire , for a sharp frost had set in , and the windows\r
+were thick with the ice crystals . " I suppose " I remarked , " that ,\r
+homely as it looks , this thing has some deadly story linked on to\r
+it - that it is the clue which will guide you in the solution of\r
+some mystery and the punishment of some crime "\r
+\r
+" No , no . No crime " said Sherlock Holmes , laughing . " Only one of\r
+those whimsical little incidents which will happen when you have\r
+four million human beings all jostling each other within the\r
+space of a few square miles . Amid the action and reaction of so\r
+dense a swarm of humanity , every possible combination of events\r
+may be expected to take place , and many a little problem will be\r
+presented which may be striking and bizarre without being\r
+criminal . We have already had experience of such "\r
+\r
+" So much so " I remarked , " that of the last six cases which I\r
+have added to my notes , three have been entirely free of any\r
+legal crime "\r
+\r
+" Precisely . You allude to my attempt to recover the Irene Adler\r
+papers , to the singular case of Miss Mary Sutherland , and to the\r
+adventure of the man with the twisted lip . Well , I have no doubt\r
+that this small matter will fall into the same innocent category .\r
+You know Peterson , the commissionaire "\r
+\r
+" Yes "\r
+\r
+" It is to him that this trophy belongs "\r
+\r
+" It is his hat "\r
+\r
+" No , no , he found it . Its owner is unknown . I beg that you will\r
+look upon it not as a battered billycock but as an intellectual\r
+problem . And , first , as to how it came here . It arrived upon\r
+Christmas morning , in company with a good fat goose , which is , I\r
+have no doubt , roasting at this moment in front of Peterson's\r
+fire . The facts are these : about four o'clock on Christmas\r
+morning , Peterson , who , as you know , is a very honest fellow , was\r
+returning from some small jollification and was making his way\r
+homeward down Tottenham Court Road . In front of him he saw , in\r
+the gaslight , a tallish man , walking with a slight stagger , and\r
+carrying a white goose slung over his shoulder . As he reached the\r
+corner of Goodge Street , a row broke out between this stranger\r
+and a little knot of roughs . One of the latter knocked off the\r
+man's hat , on which he raised his stick to defend himself and ,\r
+swinging it over his head , smashed the shop window behind him .\r
+Peterson had rushed forward to protect the stranger from his\r
+assailants ; but the man , shocked at having broken the window , and\r
+seeing an official - looking person in uniform rushing towards him ,\r
+dropped his goose , took to his heels , and vanished amid the\r
+labyrinth of small streets which lie at the back of Tottenham\r
+Court Road . The roughs had also fled at the appearance of\r
+Peterson , so that he was left in possession of the field of\r
+battle , and also of the spoils of victory in the shape of this\r
+battered hat and a most unimpeachable Christmas goose "\r
+\r
+" Which surely he restored to their owner "\r
+\r
+" My dear fellow , there lies the problem . It is true that ' For\r
+Mrs . Henry Baker ' was printed upon a small card which was tied to\r
+the bird's left leg , and it is also true that the initials ' H .\r
+B ' are legible upon the lining of this hat , but as there are\r
+some thousands of Bakers , and some hundreds of Henry Bakers in\r
+this city of ours , it is not easy to restore lost property to any\r
+one of them "\r
+\r
+" What , then , did Peterson do "\r
+\r
+" He brought round both hat and goose to me on Christmas morning ,\r
+knowing that even the smallest problems are of interest to me .\r
+The goose we retained until this morning , when there were signs\r
+that , in spite of the slight frost , it would be well that it\r
+should be eaten without unnecessary delay . Its finder has carried\r
+it off , therefore , to fulfil the ultimate destiny of a goose ,\r
+while I continue to retain the hat of the unknown gentleman who\r
+lost his Christmas dinner "\r
+\r
+" Did he not advertise "\r
+\r
+" No "\r
+\r
+" Then , what clue could you have as to his identity "\r
+\r
+" Only as much as we can deduce "\r
+\r
+" From his hat "\r
+\r
+" Precisely "\r
+\r
+" But you are joking . What can you gather from this old battered\r
+felt "\r
+\r
+" Here is my lens . You know my methods . What can you gather\r
+yourself as to the individuality of the man who has worn this\r
+article "\r
+\r
+I took the tattered object in my hands and turned it over rather\r
+ruefully . It was a very ordinary black hat of the usual round\r
+shape , hard and much the worse for wear . The lining had been of\r
+red silk , but was a good deal discoloured . There was no maker's\r
+name ; but , as Holmes had remarked , the initials " H . B " were\r
+scrawled upon one side . It was pierced in the brim for a\r
+hat - securer , but the elastic was missing . For the rest , it was\r
+cracked , exceedingly dusty , and spotted in several places ,\r
+although there seemed to have been some attempt to hide the\r
+discoloured patches by smearing them with ink .\r
+\r
+" I can see nothing " said I , handing it back to my friend .\r
+\r
+" On the contrary , Watson , you can see everything . You fail ,\r
+however , to reason from what you see . You are too timid in\r
+drawing your inferences "\r
+\r
+" Then , pray tell me what it is that you can infer from this hat "\r
+\r
+He picked it up and gazed at it in the peculiar introspective\r
+fashion which was characteristic of him . " It is perhaps less\r
+suggestive than it might have been " he remarked , " and yet there\r
+are a few inferences which are very distinct , and a few others\r
+which represent at least a strong balance of probability . That\r
+the man was highly intellectual is of course obvious upon the\r
+face of it , and also that he was fairly well - to - do within the\r
+last three years , although he has now fallen upon evil days . He\r
+had foresight , but has less now than formerly , pointing to a\r
+moral retrogression , which , when taken with the decline of his\r
+fortunes , seems to indicate some evil influence , probably drink ,\r
+at work upon him . This may account also for the obvious fact that\r
+his wife has ceased to love him "\r
+\r
+" My dear Holmes "\r
+\r
+" He has , however , retained some degree of self - respect " he\r
+continued , disregarding my remonstrance . " He is a man who leads a\r
+sedentary life , goes out little , is out of training entirely , is\r
+middle - aged , has grizzled hair which he has had cut within the\r
+last few days , and which he anoints with lime - cream . These are\r
+the more patent facts which are to be deduced from his hat . Also ,\r
+by the way , that it is extremely improbable that he has gas laid\r
+on in his house "\r
+\r
+" You are certainly joking , Holmes "\r
+\r
+" Not in the least . Is it possible that even now , when I give you\r
+these results , you are unable to see how they are attained "\r
+\r
+" I have no doubt that I am very stupid , but I must confess that I\r
+am unable to follow you . For example , how did you deduce that\r
+this man was intellectual "\r
+\r
+For answer Holmes clapped the hat upon his head . It came right\r
+over the forehead and settled upon the bridge of his nose . " It is\r
+a question of cubic capacity " said he ; " a man with so large a\r
+brain must have something in it "\r
+\r
+" The decline of his fortunes , then "\r
+\r
+" This hat is three years old . These flat brims curled at the edge\r
+came in then . It is a hat of the very best quality . Look at the\r
+band of ribbed silk and the excellent lining . If this man could\r
+afford to buy so expensive a hat three years ago , and has had no\r
+hat since , then he has assuredly gone down in the world "\r
+\r
+" Well , that is clear enough , certainly . But how about the\r
+foresight and the moral retrogression "\r
+\r
+Sherlock Holmes laughed . " Here is the foresight " said he putting\r
+his finger upon the little disc and loop of the hat - securer .\r
+" They are never sold upon hats . If this man ordered one , it is a\r
+sign of a certain amount of foresight , since he went out of his\r
+way to take this precaution against the wind . But since we see\r
+that he has broken the elastic and has not troubled to replace\r
+it , it is obvious that he has less foresight now than formerly ,\r
+which is a distinct proof of a weakening nature . On the other\r
+hand , he has endeavoured to conceal some of these stains upon the\r
+felt by daubing them with ink , which is a sign that he has not\r
+entirely lost his self - respect "\r
+\r
+" Your reasoning is certainly plausible "\r
+\r
+" The further points , that he is middle - aged , that his hair is\r
+grizzled , that it has been recently cut , and that he uses\r
+lime - cream , are all to be gathered from a close examination of the\r
+lower part of the lining . The lens discloses a large number of\r
+hair - ends , clean cut by the scissors of the barber . They all\r
+appear to be adhesive , and there is a distinct odour of\r
+lime - cream . This dust , you will observe , is not the gritty , grey\r
+dust of the street but the fluffy brown dust of the house ,\r
+showing that it has been hung up indoors most of the time , while\r
+the marks of moisture upon the inside are proof positive that the\r
+wearer perspired very freely , and could therefore , hardly be in\r
+the best of training "\r
+\r
+" But his wife - you said that she had ceased to love him "\r
+\r
+" This hat has not been brushed for weeks . When I see you , my dear\r
+Watson , with a week's accumulation of dust upon your hat , and\r
+when your wife allows you to go out in such a state , I shall fear\r
+that you also have been unfortunate enough to lose your wife's\r
+affection "\r
+\r
+" But he might be a bachelor "\r
+\r
+" Nay , he was bringing home the goose as a peace - offering to his\r
+wife . Remember the card upon the bird's leg "\r
+\r
+" You have an answer to everything . But how on earth do you deduce\r
+that the gas is not laid on in his house "\r
+\r
+" One tallow stain , or even two , might come by chance ; but when I\r
+see no less than five , I think that there can be little doubt\r
+that the individual must be brought into frequent contact with\r
+burning tallow - walks upstairs at night probably with his hat in\r
+one hand and a guttering candle in the other . Anyhow , he never\r
+got tallow - stains from a gas - jet . Are you satisfied "\r
+\r
+" Well , it is very ingenious " said I , laughing ; " but since , as\r
+you said just now , there has been no crime committed , and no harm\r
+done save the loss of a goose , all this seems to be rather a\r
+waste of energy "\r
+\r
+Sherlock Holmes had opened his mouth to reply , when the door flew\r
+open , and Peterson , the commissionaire , rushed into the apartment\r
+with flushed cheeks and the face of a man who is dazed with\r
+astonishment .\r
+\r
+" The goose , Mr . Holmes ! The goose , sir " he gasped .\r
+\r
+" Eh ? What of it , then ? Has it returned to life and flapped off\r
+through the kitchen window " Holmes twisted himself round upon\r
+the sofa to get a fairer view of the man's excited face .\r
+\r
+" See here , sir ! See what my wife found in its crop " He held out\r
+his hand and displayed upon the centre of the palm a brilliantly\r
+scintillating blue stone , rather smaller than a bean in size , but\r
+of such purity and radiance that it twinkled like an electric\r
+point in the dark hollow of his hand .\r
+\r
+Sherlock Holmes sat up with a whistle . " By Jove , Peterson " said\r
+he , " this is treasure trove indeed . I suppose you know what you\r
+have got "\r
+\r
+" A diamond , sir ? A precious stone . It cuts into glass as though\r
+it were putty "\r
+\r
+" It's more than a precious stone . It is the precious stone "\r
+\r
+" Not the Countess of Morcar's blue carbuncle " I ejaculated .\r
+\r
+" Precisely so . I ought to know its size and shape , seeing that I\r
+have read the advertisement about it in The Times every day\r
+lately . It is absolutely unique , and its value can only be\r
+conjectured , but the reward offered of 1000 pounds is certainly\r
+not within a twentieth part of the market price "\r
+\r
+" A thousand pounds ! Great Lord of mercy " The commissionaire\r
+plumped down into a chair and stared from one to the other of us .\r
+\r
+" That is the reward , and I have reason to know that there are\r
+sentimental considerations in the background which would induce\r
+the Countess to part with half her fortune if she could but\r
+recover the gem "\r
+\r
+" It was lost , if I remember aright , at the Hotel Cosmopolitan " I\r
+remarked .\r
+\r
+" Precisely so , on December 22nd , just five days ago . John Horner ,\r
+a plumber , was accused of having abstracted it from the lady's\r
+jewel - case . The evidence against him was so strong that the case\r
+has been referred to the Assizes . I have some account of the\r
+matter here , I believe " He rummaged amid his newspapers ,\r
+glancing over the dates , until at last he smoothed one out ,\r
+doubled it over , and read the following paragraph :\r
+\r
+" Hotel Cosmopolitan Jewel Robbery . John Horner , 26 , plumber , was\r
+brought up upon the charge of having upon the 22nd inst ,\r
+abstracted from the jewel - case of the Countess of Morcar the\r
+valuable gem known as the blue carbuncle . James Ryder ,\r
+upper - attendant at the hotel , gave his evidence to the effect\r
+that he had shown Horner up to the dressing - room of the Countess\r
+of Morcar upon the day of the robbery in order that he might\r
+solder the second bar of the grate , which was loose . He had\r
+remained with Horner some little time , but had finally been\r
+called away . On returning , he found that Horner had disappeared ,\r
+that the bureau had been forced open , and that the small morocco\r
+casket in which , as it afterwards transpired , the Countess was\r
+accustomed to keep her jewel , was lying empty upon the\r
+dressing - table . Ryder instantly gave the alarm , and Horner was\r
+arrested the same evening ; but the stone could not be found\r
+either upon his person or in his rooms . Catherine Cusack , maid to\r
+the Countess , deposed to having heard Ryder's cry of dismay on\r
+discovering the robbery , and to having rushed into the room ,\r
+where she found matters as described by the last witness .\r
+Inspector Bradstreet , B division , gave evidence as to the arrest\r
+of Horner , who struggled frantically , and protested his innocence\r
+in the strongest terms . Evidence of a previous conviction for\r
+robbery having been given against the prisoner , the magistrate\r
+refused to deal summarily with the offence , but referred it to\r
+the Assizes . Horner , who had shown signs of intense emotion\r
+during the proceedings , fainted away at the conclusion and was\r
+carried out of court "\r
+\r
+" Hum ! So much for the police - court " said Holmes thoughtfully ,\r
+tossing aside the paper . " The question for us now to solve is the\r
+sequence of events leading from a rifled jewel - case at one end to\r
+the crop of a goose in Tottenham Court Road at the other . You\r
+see , Watson , our little deductions have suddenly assumed a much\r
+more important and less innocent aspect . Here is the stone ; the\r
+stone came from the goose , and the goose came from Mr . Henry\r
+Baker , the gentleman with the bad hat and all the other\r
+characteristics with which I have bored you . So now we must set\r
+ourselves very seriously to finding this gentleman and\r
+ascertaining what part he has played in this little mystery . To\r
+do this , we must try the simplest means first , and these lie\r
+undoubtedly in an advertisement in all the evening papers . If\r
+this fail , I shall have recourse to other methods "\r
+\r
+" What will you say "\r
+\r
+" Give me a pencil and that slip of paper . Now , then : ' Found at\r
+the corner of Goodge Street , a goose and a black felt hat . Mr .\r
+Henry Baker can have the same by applying at 6 : 30 this evening at\r
+221B , Baker Street ' That is clear and concise "\r
+\r
+" Very . But will he see it "\r
+\r
+" Well , he is sure to keep an eye on the papers , since , to a poor\r
+man , the loss was a heavy one . He was clearly so scared by his\r
+mischance in breaking the window and by the approach of Peterson\r
+that he thought of nothing but flight , but since then he must\r
+have bitterly regretted the impulse which caused him to drop his\r
+bird . Then , again , the introduction of his name will cause him to\r
+see it , for everyone who knows him will direct his attention to\r
+it . Here you are , Peterson , run down to the advertising agency\r
+and have this put in the evening papers "\r
+\r
+" In which , sir "\r
+\r
+" Oh , in the Globe , Star , Pall Mall , St . James's , Evening News ,\r
+Standard , Echo , and any others that occur to you "\r
+\r
+" Very well , sir . And this stone "\r
+\r
+" Ah , yes , I shall keep the stone . Thank you . And , I say ,\r
+Peterson , just buy a goose on your way back and leave it here\r
+with me , for we must have one to give to this gentleman in place\r
+of the one which your family is now devouring "\r
+\r
+When the commissionaire had gone , Holmes took up the stone and\r
+held it against the light . " It's a bonny thing " said he . " Just\r
+see how it glints and sparkles . Of course it is a nucleus and\r
+focus of crime . Every good stone is . They are the devil's pet\r
+baits . In the larger and older jewels every facet may stand for a\r
+bloody deed . This stone is not yet twenty years old . It was found\r
+in the banks of the Amoy River in southern China and is remarkable\r
+in having every characteristic of the carbuncle , save that it is\r
+blue in shade instead of ruby red . In spite of its youth , it has\r
+already a sinister history . There have been two murders , a\r
+vitriol - throwing , a suicide , and several robberies brought about\r
+for the sake of this forty - grain weight of crystallised charcoal .\r
+Who would think that so pretty a toy would be a purveyor to the\r
+gallows and the prison ? I ' ll lock it up in my strong box now and\r
+drop a line to the Countess to say that we have it "\r
+\r
+" Do you think that this man Horner is innocent "\r
+\r
+" I cannot tell "\r
+\r
+" Well , then , do you imagine that this other one , Henry Baker , had\r
+anything to do with the matter "\r
+\r
+" It is , I think , much more likely that Henry Baker is an\r
+absolutely innocent man , who had no idea that the bird which he\r
+was carrying was of considerably more value than if it were made\r
+of solid gold . That , however , I shall determine by a very simple\r
+test if we have an answer to our advertisement "\r
+\r
+" And you can do nothing until then "\r
+\r
+" Nothing "\r
+\r
+" In that case I shall continue my professional round . But I shall\r
+come back in the evening at the hour you have mentioned , for I\r
+should like to see the solution of so tangled a business "\r
+\r
+" Very glad to see you . I dine at seven . There is a woodcock , I\r
+believe . By the way , in view of recent occurrences , perhaps I\r
+ought to ask Mrs . Hudson to examine its crop "\r
+\r
+I had been delayed at a case , and it was a little after half - past\r
+six when I found myself in Baker Street once more . As I\r
+approached the house I saw a tall man in a Scotch bonnet with a\r
+coat which was buttoned up to his chin waiting outside in the\r
+bright semicircle which was thrown from the fanlight . Just as I\r
+arrived the door was opened , and we were shown up together to\r
+Holmes ' room .\r
+\r
+" Mr . Henry Baker , I believe " said he , rising from his armchair\r
+and greeting his visitor with the easy air of geniality which he\r
+could so readily assume . " Pray take this chair by the fire , Mr .\r
+Baker . It is a cold night , and I observe that your circulation is\r
+more adapted for summer than for winter . Ah , Watson , you have\r
+just come at the right time . Is that your hat , Mr . Baker "\r
+\r
+" Yes , sir , that is undoubtedly my hat "\r
+\r
+He was a large man with rounded shoulders , a massive head , and a\r
+broad , intelligent face , sloping down to a pointed beard of\r
+grizzled brown . A touch of red in nose and cheeks , with a slight\r
+tremor of his extended hand , recalled Holmes ' surmise as to his\r
+habits . His rusty black frock - coat was buttoned right up in\r
+front , with the collar turned up , and his lank wrists protruded\r
+from his sleeves without a sign of cuff or shirt . He spoke in a\r
+slow staccato fashion , choosing his words with care , and gave the\r
+impression generally of a man of learning and letters who had had\r
+ill - usage at the hands of fortune .\r
+\r
+" We have retained these things for some days " said Holmes ,\r
+" because we expected to see an advertisement from you giving your\r
+address . I am at a loss to know now why you did not advertise "\r
+\r
+Our visitor gave a rather shamefaced laugh . " Shillings have not\r
+been so plentiful with me as they once were " he remarked . " I had\r
+no doubt that the gang of roughs who assaulted me had carried off\r
+both my hat and the bird . I did not care to spend more money in a\r
+hopeless attempt at recovering them "\r
+\r
+" Very naturally . By the way , about the bird , we were compelled to\r
+eat it "\r
+\r
+" To eat it " Our visitor half rose from his chair in his\r
+excitement .\r
+\r
+" Yes , it would have been of no use to anyone had we not done so .\r
+But I presume that this other goose upon the sideboard , which is\r
+about the same weight and perfectly fresh , will answer your\r
+purpose equally well "\r
+\r
+" Oh , certainly , certainly " answered Mr . Baker with a sigh of\r
+relief .\r
+\r
+" Of course , we still have the feathers , legs , crop , and so on of\r
+your own bird , so if you wish -"\r
+\r
+The man burst into a hearty laugh . " They might be useful to me as\r
+relics of my adventure " said he , " but beyond that I can hardly\r
+see what use the disjecta membra of my late acquaintance are\r
+going to be to me . No , sir , I think that , with your permission , I\r
+will confine my attentions to the excellent bird which I perceive\r
+upon the sideboard "\r
+\r
+Sherlock Holmes glanced sharply across at me with a slight shrug\r
+of his shoulders .\r
+\r
+" There is your hat , then , and there your bird " said he . " By the\r
+way , would it bore you to tell me where you got the other one\r
+from ? I am somewhat of a fowl fancier , and I have seldom seen a\r
+better grown goose "\r
+\r
+" Certainly , sir " said Baker , who had risen and tucked his newly\r
+gained property under his arm . " There are a few of us who\r
+frequent the Alpha Inn , near the Museum - we are to be found in\r
+the Museum itself during the day , you understand . This year our\r
+good host , Windigate by name , instituted a goose club , by which ,\r
+on consideration of some few pence every week , we were each to\r
+receive a bird at Christmas . My pence were duly paid , and the\r
+rest is familiar to you . I am much indebted to you , sir , for a\r
+Scotch bonnet is fitted neither to my years nor my gravity " With\r
+a comical pomposity of manner he bowed solemnly to both of us and\r
+strode off upon his way .\r
+\r
+" So much for Mr . Henry Baker " said Holmes when he had closed the\r
+door behind him . " It is quite certain that he knows nothing\r
+whatever about the matter . Are you hungry , Watson "\r
+\r
+" Not particularly "\r
+\r
+" Then I suggest that we turn our dinner into a supper and follow\r
+up this clue while it is still hot "\r
+\r
+" By all means "\r
+\r
+It was a bitter night , so we drew on our ulsters and wrapped\r
+cravats about our throats . Outside , the stars were shining coldly\r
+in a cloudless sky , and the breath of the passers - by blew out\r
+into smoke like so many pistol shots . Our footfalls rang out\r
+crisply and loudly as we swung through the doctors ' quarter ,\r
+Wimpole Street , Harley Street , and so through Wigmore Street into\r
+Oxford Street . In a quarter of an hour we were in Bloomsbury at\r
+the Alpha Inn , which is a small public - house at the corner of one\r
+of the streets which runs down into Holborn . Holmes pushed open\r
+the door of the private bar and ordered two glasses of beer from\r
+the ruddy - faced , white - aproned landlord .\r
+\r
+" Your beer should be excellent if it is as good as your geese "\r
+said he .\r
+\r
+" My geese " The man seemed surprised .\r
+\r
+" Yes . I was speaking only half an hour ago to Mr . Henry Baker ,\r
+who was a member of your goose club "\r
+\r
+" Ah ! yes , I see . But you see , sir , them's not our geese "\r
+\r
+" Indeed ! Whose , then "\r
+\r
+" Well , I got the two dozen from a salesman in Covent Garden "\r
+\r
+" Indeed ? I know some of them . Which was it "\r
+\r
+" Breckinridge is his name "\r
+\r
+" Ah ! I don't know him . Well , here's your good health landlord ,\r
+and prosperity to your house . Good - night "\r
+\r
+" Now for Mr . Breckinridge " he continued , buttoning up his coat\r
+as we came out into the frosty air . " Remember , Watson that though\r
+we have so homely a thing as a goose at one end of this chain , we\r
+have at the other a man who will certainly get seven years ' penal\r
+servitude unless we can establish his innocence . It is possible\r
+that our inquiry may but confirm his guilt ; but , in any case , we\r
+have a line of investigation which has been missed by the police ,\r
+and which a singular chance has placed in our hands . Let us\r
+follow it out to the bitter end . Faces to the south , then , and\r
+quick march "\r
+\r
+We passed across Holborn , down Endell Street , and so through a\r
+zigzag of slums to Covent Garden Market . One of the largest\r
+stalls bore the name of Breckinridge upon it , and the proprietor\r
+a horsey - looking man , with a sharp face and trim side - whiskers was\r
+helping a boy to put up the shutters .\r
+\r
+" Good - evening . It's a cold night " said Holmes .\r
+\r
+The salesman nodded and shot a questioning glance at my\r
+companion .\r
+\r
+" Sold out of geese , I see " continued Holmes , pointing at the\r
+bare slabs of marble .\r
+\r
+" Let you have five hundred to - morrow morning "\r
+\r
+" That's no good "\r
+\r
+" Well , there are some on the stall with the gas - flare "\r
+\r
+" Ah , but I was recommended to you "\r
+\r
+" Who by "\r
+\r
+" The landlord of the Alpha "\r
+\r
+" Oh , yes ; I sent him a couple of dozen "\r
+\r
+" Fine birds they were , too . Now where did you get them from "\r
+\r
+To my surprise the question provoked a burst of anger from the\r
+salesman .\r
+\r
+" Now , then , mister " said he , with his head cocked and his arms\r
+akimbo , " what are you driving at ? Let's have it straight , now "\r
+\r
+" It is straight enough . I should like to know who sold you the\r
+geese which you supplied to the Alpha "\r
+\r
+" Well then , I shan't tell you . So now "\r
+\r
+" Oh , it is a matter of no importance ; but I don't know why you\r
+should be so warm over such a trifle "\r
+\r
+" Warm ! You ' d be as warm , maybe , if you were as pestered as I am .\r
+When I pay good money for a good article there should be an end\r
+of the business ; but it's ' Where are the geese ' and ' Who did you\r
+sell the geese to ' and ' What will you take for the geese ' One\r
+would think they were the only geese in the world , to hear the\r
+fuss that is made over them "\r
+\r
+" Well , I have no connection with any other people who have been\r
+making inquiries " said Holmes carelessly . " If you won't tell us\r
+the bet is off , that is all . But I ' m always ready to back my\r
+opinion on a matter of fowls , and I have a fiver on it that the\r
+bird I ate is country bred "\r
+\r
+" Well , then , you ' ve lost your fiver , for it's town bred " snapped\r
+the salesman .\r
+\r
+" It's nothing of the kind "\r
+\r
+" I say it is "\r
+\r
+" I don't believe it "\r
+\r
+" D ' you think you know more about fowls than I , who have handled\r
+them ever since I was a nipper ? I tell you , all those birds that\r
+went to the Alpha were town bred "\r
+\r
+" You ' ll never persuade me to believe that "\r
+\r
+" Will you bet , then "\r
+\r
+" It's merely taking your money , for I know that I am right . But\r
+I ' ll have a sovereign on with you , just to teach you not to be\r
+obstinate "\r
+\r
+The salesman chuckled grimly . " Bring me the books , Bill " said\r
+he .\r
+\r
+The small boy brought round a small thin volume and a great\r
+greasy - backed one , laying them out together beneath the hanging\r
+lamp .\r
+\r
+" Now then , Mr . Cocksure " said the salesman , " I thought that I\r
+was out of geese , but before I finish you ' ll find that there is\r
+still one left in my shop . You see this little book "\r
+\r
+" Well "\r
+\r
+" That's the list of the folk from whom I buy . D ' you see ? Well ,\r
+then , here on this page are the country folk , and the numbers\r
+after their names are where their accounts are in the big ledger .\r
+Now , then ! You see this other page in red ink ? Well , that is a\r
+list of my town suppliers . Now , look at that third name . Just\r
+read it out to me "\r
+\r
+" Mrs . Oakshott , 117 , Brixton Road - 249 " read Holmes .\r
+\r
+" Quite so . Now turn that up in the ledger "\r
+\r
+Holmes turned to the page indicated . " Here you are , ' Mrs .\r
+Oakshott , 117 , Brixton Road , egg and poultry supplier '"\r
+\r
+" Now , then , what's the last entry "\r
+\r
+ ' December 22nd . Twenty - four geese at 7s . 6d '"\r
+\r
+" Quite so . There you are . And underneath "\r
+\r
+ ' Sold to Mr . Windigate of the Alpha , at 12s '"\r
+\r
+" What have you to say now "\r
+\r
+Sherlock Holmes looked deeply chagrined . He drew a sovereign from\r
+his pocket and threw it down upon the slab , turning away with the\r
+air of a man whose disgust is too deep for words . A few yards off\r
+he stopped under a lamp - post and laughed in the hearty , noiseless\r
+fashion which was peculiar to him .\r
+\r
+" When you see a man with whiskers of that cut and the ' Pink ' un '\r
+protruding out of his pocket , you can always draw him by a bet "\r
+said he . " I daresay that if I had put 100 pounds down in front of\r
+him , that man would not have given me such complete information\r
+as was drawn from him by the idea that he was doing me on a\r
+wager . Well , Watson , we are , I fancy , nearing the end of our\r
+quest , and the only point which remains to be determined is\r
+whether we should go on to this Mrs . Oakshott to - night , or\r
+whether we should reserve it for to - morrow . It is clear from what\r
+that surly fellow said that there are others besides ourselves\r
+who are anxious about the matter , and I should -"\r
+\r
+His remarks were suddenly cut short by a loud hubbub which broke\r
+out from the stall which we had just left . Turning round we saw a\r
+little rat - faced fellow standing in the centre of the circle of\r
+yellow light which was thrown by the swinging lamp , while\r
+Breckinridge , the salesman , framed in the door of his stall , was\r
+shaking his fists fiercely at the cringing figure .\r
+\r
+" I ' ve had enough of you and your geese " he shouted . " I wish you\r
+were all at the devil together . If you come pestering me any more\r
+with your silly talk I ' ll set the dog at you . You bring Mrs .\r
+Oakshott here and I ' ll answer her , but what have you to do with\r
+it ? Did I buy the geese off you "\r
+\r
+" No ; but one of them was mine all the same " whined the little\r
+man .\r
+\r
+" Well , then , ask Mrs . Oakshott for it "\r
+\r
+" She told me to ask you "\r
+\r
+" Well , you can ask the King of Proosia , for all I care . I ' ve had\r
+enough of it . Get out of this " He rushed fiercely forward , and\r
+the inquirer flitted away into the darkness .\r
+\r
+" Ha ! this may save us a visit to Brixton Road " whispered Holmes .\r
+" Come with me , and we will see what is to be made of this\r
+fellow " Striding through the scattered knots of people who\r
+lounged round the flaring stalls , my companion speedily overtook\r
+the little man and touched him upon the shoulder . He sprang\r
+round , and I could see in the gas - light that every vestige of\r
+colour had been driven from his face .\r
+\r
+" Who are you , then ? What do you want " he asked in a quavering\r
+voice .\r
+\r
+" You will excuse me " said Holmes blandly , " but I could not help\r
+overhearing the questions which you put to the salesman just now .\r
+I think that I could be of assistance to you "\r
+\r
+" You ? Who are you ? How could you know anything of the matter "\r
+\r
+" My name is Sherlock Holmes . It is my business to know what other\r
+people don't know "\r
+\r
+" But you can know nothing of this "\r
+\r
+" Excuse me , I know everything of it . You are endeavouring to\r
+trace some geese which were sold by Mrs . Oakshott , of Brixton\r
+Road , to a salesman named Breckinridge , by him in turn to Mr .\r
+Windigate , of the Alpha , and by him to his club , of which Mr .\r
+Henry Baker is a member "\r
+\r
+" Oh , sir , you are the very man whom I have longed to meet " cried\r
+the little fellow with outstretched hands and quivering fingers .\r
+" I can hardly explain to you how interested I am in this matter "\r
+\r
+Sherlock Holmes hailed a four - wheeler which was passing . " In that\r
+case we had better discuss it in a cosy room rather than in this\r
+wind - swept market - place " said he . " But pray tell me , before we\r
+go farther , who it is that I have the pleasure of assisting "\r
+\r
+The man hesitated for an instant . " My name is John Robinson " he\r
+answered with a sidelong glance .\r
+\r
+" No , no ; the real name " said Holmes sweetly . " It is always\r
+awkward doing business with an alias "\r
+\r
+A flush sprang to the white cheeks of the stranger . " Well then "\r
+said he , " my real name is James Ryder "\r
+\r
+" Precisely so . Head attendant at the Hotel Cosmopolitan . Pray\r
+step into the cab , and I shall soon be able to tell you\r
+everything which you would wish to know "\r
+\r
+The little man stood glancing from one to the other of us with\r
+half - frightened , half - hopeful eyes , as one who is not sure\r
+whether he is on the verge of a windfall or of a catastrophe .\r
+Then he stepped into the cab , and in half an hour we were back in\r
+the sitting - room at Baker Street . Nothing had been said during\r
+our drive , but the high , thin breathing of our new companion , and\r
+the claspings and unclaspings of his hands , spoke of the nervous\r
+tension within him .\r
+\r
+" Here we are " said Holmes cheerily as we filed into the room .\r
+" The fire looks very seasonable in this weather . You look cold ,\r
+Mr . Ryder . Pray take the basket - chair . I will just put on my\r
+slippers before we settle this little matter of yours . Now , then !\r
+You want to know what became of those geese "\r
+\r
+" Yes , sir "\r
+\r
+" Or rather , I fancy , of that goose . It was one bird , I imagine in\r
+which you were interested - white , with a black bar across the\r
+tail "\r
+\r
+Ryder quivered with emotion . " Oh , sir " he cried , " can you tell\r
+me where it went to "\r
+\r
+" It came here "\r
+\r
+" Here "\r
+\r
+" Yes , and a most remarkable bird it proved . I don't wonder that\r
+you should take an interest in it . It laid an egg after it was\r
+dead - the bonniest , brightest little blue egg that ever was seen .\r
+I have it here in my museum "\r
+\r
+Our visitor staggered to his feet and clutched the mantelpiece\r
+with his right hand . Holmes unlocked his strong - box and held up\r
+the blue carbuncle , which shone out like a star , with a cold ,\r
+brilliant , many - pointed radiance . Ryder stood glaring with a\r
+drawn face , uncertain whether to claim or to disown it .\r
+\r
+" The game's up , Ryder " said Holmes quietly . " Hold up , man , or\r
+you ' ll be into the fire ! Give him an arm back into his chair ,\r
+Watson . He's not got blood enough to go in for felony with\r
+impunity . Give him a dash of brandy . So ! Now he looks a little\r
+more human . What a shrimp it is , to be sure "\r
+\r
+For a moment he had staggered and nearly fallen , but the brandy\r
+brought a tinge of colour into his cheeks , and he sat staring\r
+with frightened eyes at his accuser .\r
+\r
+" I have almost every link in my hands , and all the proofs which I\r
+could possibly need , so there is little which you need tell me .\r
+Still , that little may as well be cleared up to make the case\r
+complete . You had heard , Ryder , of this blue stone of the\r
+Countess of Morcar's "\r
+\r
+" It was Catherine Cusack who told me of it " said he in a\r
+crackling voice .\r
+\r
+" I see - her ladyship's waiting - maid . Well , the temptation of\r
+sudden wealth so easily acquired was too much for you , as it has\r
+been for better men before you ; but you were not very scrupulous\r
+in the means you used . It seems to me , Ryder , that there is the\r
+making of a very pretty villain in you . You knew that this man\r
+Horner , the plumber , had been concerned in some such matter\r
+before , and that suspicion would rest the more readily upon him .\r
+What did you do , then ? You made some small job in my lady's\r
+room - you and your confederate Cusack - and you managed that he\r
+should be the man sent for . Then , when he had left , you rifled\r
+the jewel - case , raised the alarm , and had this unfortunate man\r
+arrested . You then -"\r
+\r
+Ryder threw himself down suddenly upon the rug and clutched at my\r
+companion's knees . " For God's sake , have mercy " he shrieked .\r
+" Think of my father ! Of my mother ! It would break their hearts . I\r
+never went wrong before ! I never will again . I swear it . I ' ll\r
+swear it on a Bible . Oh , don't bring it into court ! For Christ's\r
+sake , don't "\r
+\r
+" Get back into your chair " said Holmes sternly . " It is very well\r
+to cringe and crawl now , but you thought little enough of this\r
+poor Horner in the dock for a crime of which he knew nothing "\r
+\r
+" I will fly , Mr . Holmes . I will leave the country , sir . Then the\r
+charge against him will break down "\r
+\r
+" Hum ! We will talk about that . And now let us hear a true account\r
+of the next act . How came the stone into the goose , and how came\r
+the goose into the open market ? Tell us the truth , for there lies\r
+your only hope of safety "\r
+\r
+Ryder passed his tongue over his parched lips . " I will tell you\r
+it just as it happened , sir " said he . " When Horner had been\r
+arrested , it seemed to me that it would be best for me to get\r
+away with the stone at once , for I did not know at what moment\r
+the police might not take it into their heads to search me and my\r
+room . There was no place about the hotel where it would be safe .\r
+I went out , as if on some commission , and I made for my sister's\r
+house . She had married a man named Oakshott , and lived in Brixton\r
+Road , where she fattened fowls for the market . All the way there\r
+every man I met seemed to me to be a policeman or a detective ;\r
+and , for all that it was a cold night , the sweat was pouring down\r
+my face before I came to the Brixton Road . My sister asked me\r
+what was the matter , and why I was so pale ; but I told her that I\r
+had been upset by the jewel robbery at the hotel . Then I went\r
+into the back yard and smoked a pipe and wondered what it would\r
+be best to do .\r
+\r
+" I had a friend once called Maudsley , who went to the bad , and\r
+has just been serving his time in Pentonville . One day he had met\r
+me , and fell into talk about the ways of thieves , and how they\r
+could get rid of what they stole . I knew that he would be true to\r
+me , for I knew one or two things about him ; so I made up my mind\r
+to go right on to Kilburn , where he lived , and take him into my\r
+confidence . He would show me how to turn the stone into money .\r
+But how to get to him in safety ? I thought of the agonies I had\r
+gone through in coming from the hotel . I might at any moment be\r
+seized and searched , and there would be the stone in my waistcoat\r
+pocket . I was leaning against the wall at the time and looking at\r
+the geese which were waddling about round my feet , and suddenly\r
+an idea came into my head which showed me how I could beat the\r
+best detective that ever lived .\r
+\r
+" My sister had told me some weeks before that I might have the\r
+pick of her geese for a Christmas present , and I knew that she\r
+was always as good as her word . I would take my goose now , and in\r
+it I would carry my stone to Kilburn . There was a little shed in\r
+the yard , and behind this I drove one of the birds - a fine big\r
+one , white , with a barred tail . I caught it , and prying its bill\r
+open , I thrust the stone down its throat as far as my finger\r
+could reach . The bird gave a gulp , and I felt the stone pass\r
+along its gullet and down into its crop . But the creature flapped\r
+and struggled , and out came my sister to know what was the\r
+matter . As I turned to speak to her the brute broke loose and\r
+fluttered off among the others .\r
+\r
+ ' Whatever were you doing with that bird , Jem ' says she .\r
+\r
+ ' Well ' said I , ' you said you ' d give me one for Christmas , and I\r
+was feeling which was the fattest '\r
+\r
+ ' Oh ' says she , ' we ' ve set yours aside for you - Jem's bird , we\r
+call it . It's the big white one over yonder . There's twenty - six\r
+of them , which makes one for you , and one for us , and two dozen\r
+for the market '\r
+\r
+ ' Thank you , Maggie ' says I ; ' but if it is all the same to you ,\r
+I ' d rather have that one I was handling just now '\r
+\r
+ ' The other is a good three pound heavier ' said she , ' and we\r
+fattened it expressly for you '\r
+\r
+ ' Never mind . I ' ll have the other , and I ' ll take it now ' said I .\r
+\r
+ ' Oh , just as you like ' said she , a little huffed . ' Which is it\r
+you want , then '\r
+\r
+ ' That white one with the barred tail , right in the middle of the\r
+flock '\r
+\r
+ ' Oh , very well . Kill it and take it with you '\r
+\r
+" Well , I did what she said , Mr . Holmes , and I carried the bird\r
+all the way to Kilburn . I told my pal what I had done , for he was\r
+a man that it was easy to tell a thing like that to . He laughed\r
+until he choked , and we got a knife and opened the goose . My\r
+heart turned to water , for there was no sign of the stone , and I\r
+knew that some terrible mistake had occurred . I left the bird ,\r
+rushed back to my sister's , and hurried into the back yard . There\r
+was not a bird to be seen there .\r
+\r
+ ' Where are they all , Maggie ' I cried .\r
+\r
+ ' Gone to the dealer's , Jem '\r
+\r
+ ' Which dealer's '\r
+\r
+ ' Breckinridge , of Covent Garden '\r
+\r
+ ' But was there another with a barred tail ' I asked , ' the same\r
+as the one I chose '\r
+\r
+ ' Yes , Jem ; there were two barred - tailed ones , and I could never\r
+tell them apart '\r
+\r
+" Well , then , of course I saw it all , and I ran off as hard as my\r
+feet would carry me to this man Breckinridge ; but he had sold the\r
+lot at once , and not one word would he tell me as to where they\r
+had gone . You heard him yourselves to - night . Well , he has always\r
+answered me like that . My sister thinks that I am going mad .\r
+Sometimes I think that I am myself . And now - and now I am myself\r
+a branded thief , without ever having touched the wealth for which\r
+I sold my character . God help me ! God help me " He burst into\r
+convulsive sobbing , with his face buried in his hands .\r
+\r
+There was a long silence , broken only by his heavy breathing and\r
+by the measured tapping of Sherlock Holmes ' finger - tips upon the\r
+edge of the table . Then my friend rose and threw open the door .\r
+\r
+" Get out " said he .\r
+\r
+" What , sir ! Oh , Heaven bless you "\r
+\r
+" No more words . Get out "\r
+\r
+And no more words were needed . There was a rush , a clatter upon\r
+the stairs , the bang of a door , and the crisp rattle of running\r
+footfalls from the street .\r
+\r
+" After all , Watson " said Holmes , reaching up his hand for his\r
+clay pipe , " I am not retained by the police to supply their\r
+deficiencies . If Horner were in danger it would be another thing ;\r
+but this fellow will not appear against him , and the case must\r
+collapse . I suppose that I am commuting a felony , but it is just\r
+possible that I am saving a soul . This fellow will not go wrong\r
+again ; he is too terribly frightened . Send him to gaol now , and\r
+you make him a gaol - bird for life . Besides , it is the season of\r
+forgiveness . Chance has put in our way a most singular and\r
+whimsical problem , and its solution is its own reward . If you\r
+will have the goodness to touch the bell , Doctor , we will begin\r
+another investigation , in which , also a bird will be the chief\r
+feature "\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+VIII . THE ADVENTURE OF THE SPECKLED BAND\r
+\r
+On glancing over my notes of the seventy odd cases in which I\r
+have during the last eight years studied the methods of my friend\r
+Sherlock Holmes , I find many tragic , some comic , a large number\r
+merely strange , but none commonplace ; for , working as he did\r
+rather for the love of his art than for the acquirement of\r
+wealth , he refused to associate himself with any investigation\r
+which did not tend towards the unusual , and even the fantastic .\r
+Of all these varied cases , however , I cannot recall any which\r
+presented more singular features than that which was associated\r
+with the well - known Surrey family of the Roylotts of Stoke Moran .\r
+The events in question occurred in the early days of my\r
+association with Holmes , when we were sharing rooms as bachelors\r
+in Baker Street . It is possible that I might have placed them\r
+upon record before , but a promise of secrecy was made at the\r
+time , from which I have only been freed during the last month by\r
+the untimely death of the lady to whom the pledge was given . It\r
+is perhaps as well that the facts should now come to light , for I\r
+have reasons to know that there are widespread rumours as to the\r
+death of Dr . Grimesby Roylott which tend to make the matter even\r
+more terrible than the truth .\r
+\r
+It was early in April in the year ' 83 that I woke one morning to\r
+find Sherlock Holmes standing , fully dressed , by the side of my\r
+bed . He was a late riser , as a rule , and as the clock on the\r
+mantelpiece showed me that it was only a quarter - past seven , I\r
+blinked up at him in some surprise , and perhaps just a little\r
+resentment , for I was myself regular in my habits .\r
+\r
+" Very sorry to knock you up , Watson " said he , " but it's the\r
+common lot this morning . Mrs . Hudson has been knocked up , she\r
+retorted upon me , and I on you "\r
+\r
+" What is it , then - a fire "\r
+\r
+" No ; a client . It seems that a young lady has arrived in a\r
+considerable state of excitement , who insists upon seeing me . She\r
+is waiting now in the sitting - room . Now , when young ladies wander\r
+about the metropolis at this hour of the morning , and knock\r
+sleepy people up out of their beds , I presume that it is\r
+something very pressing which they have to communicate . Should it\r
+prove to be an interesting case , you would , I am sure , wish to\r
+follow it from the outset . I thought , at any rate , that I should\r
+call you and give you the chance "\r
+\r
+" My dear fellow , I would not miss it for anything "\r
+\r
+I had no keener pleasure than in following Holmes in his\r
+professional investigations , and in admiring the rapid\r
+deductions , as swift as intuitions , and yet always founded on a\r
+logical basis with which he unravelled the problems which were\r
+submitted to him . I rapidly threw on my clothes and was ready in\r
+a few minutes to accompany my friend down to the sitting - room . A\r
+lady dressed in black and heavily veiled , who had been sitting in\r
+the window , rose as we entered .\r
+\r
+" Good - morning , madam " said Holmes cheerily . " My name is Sherlock\r
+Holmes . This is my intimate friend and associate , Dr . Watson ,\r
+before whom you can speak as freely as before myself . Ha ! I am\r
+glad to see that Mrs . Hudson has had the good sense to light the\r
+fire . Pray draw up to it , and I shall order you a cup of hot\r
+coffee , for I observe that you are shivering "\r
+\r
+" It is not cold which makes me shiver " said the woman in a low\r
+voice , changing her seat as requested .\r
+\r
+" What , then "\r
+\r
+" It is fear , Mr . Holmes . It is terror " She raised her veil as\r
+she spoke , and we could see that she was indeed in a pitiable\r
+state of agitation , her face all drawn and grey , with restless\r
+frightened eyes , like those of some hunted animal . Her features\r
+and figure were those of a woman of thirty , but her hair was shot\r
+with premature grey , and her expression was weary and haggard .\r
+Sherlock Holmes ran her over with one of his quick ,\r
+all - comprehensive glances .\r
+\r
+" You must not fear " said he soothingly , bending forward and\r
+patting her forearm . " We shall soon set matters right , I have no\r
+doubt . You have come in by train this morning , I see "\r
+\r
+" You know me , then "\r
+\r
+" No , but I observe the second half of a return ticket in the palm\r
+of your left glove . You must have started early , and yet you had\r
+a good drive in a dog - cart , along heavy roads , before you reached\r
+the station "\r
+\r
+The lady gave a violent start and stared in bewilderment at my\r
+companion .\r
+\r
+" There is no mystery , my dear madam " said he , smiling . " The left\r
+arm of your jacket is spattered with mud in no less than seven\r
+places . The marks are perfectly fresh . There is no vehicle save a\r
+dog - cart which throws up mud in that way , and then only when you\r
+sit on the left - hand side of the driver "\r
+\r
+" Whatever your reasons may be , you are perfectly correct " said\r
+she . " I started from home before six , reached Leatherhead at\r
+twenty past , and came in by the first train to Waterloo . Sir , I\r
+can stand this strain no longer ; I shall go mad if it continues .\r
+I have no one to turn to - none , save only one , who cares for me ,\r
+and he , poor fellow , can be of little aid . I have heard of you ,\r
+Mr . Holmes ; I have heard of you from Mrs . Farintosh , whom you\r
+helped in the hour of her sore need . It was from her that I had\r
+your address . Oh , sir , do you not think that you could help me ,\r
+too , and at least throw a little light through the dense darkness\r
+which surrounds me ? At present it is out of my power to reward\r
+you for your services , but in a month or six weeks I shall be\r
+married , with the control of my own income , and then at least you\r
+shall not find me ungrateful "\r
+\r
+Holmes turned to his desk and , unlocking it , drew out a small\r
+case - book , which he consulted .\r
+\r
+" Farintosh " said he . " Ah yes , I recall the case ; it was\r
+concerned with an opal tiara . I think it was before your time ,\r
+Watson . I can only say , madam , that I shall be happy to devote\r
+the same care to your case as I did to that of your friend . As to\r
+reward , my profession is its own reward ; but you are at liberty\r
+to defray whatever expenses I may be put to , at the time which\r
+suits you best . And now I beg that you will lay before us\r
+everything that may help us in forming an opinion upon the\r
+matter "\r
+\r
+" Alas " replied our visitor , " the very horror of my situation\r
+lies in the fact that my fears are so vague , and my suspicions\r
+depend so entirely upon small points , which might seem trivial to\r
+another , that even he to whom of all others I have a right to\r
+look for help and advice looks upon all that I tell him about it\r
+as the fancies of a nervous woman . He does not say so , but I can\r
+read it from his soothing answers and averted eyes . But I have\r
+heard , Mr . Holmes , that you can see deeply into the manifold\r
+wickedness of the human heart . You may advise me how to walk amid\r
+the dangers which encompass me "\r
+\r
+" I am all attention , madam "\r
+\r
+" My name is Helen Stoner , and I am living with my stepfather , who\r
+is the last survivor of one of the oldest Saxon families in\r
+England , the Roylotts of Stoke Moran , on the western border of\r
+Surrey "\r
+\r
+Holmes nodded his head . " The name is familiar to me " said he .\r
+\r
+" The family was at one time among the richest in England , and the\r
+estates extended over the borders into Berkshire in the north ,\r
+and Hampshire in the west . In the last century , however , four\r
+successive heirs were of a dissolute and wasteful disposition ,\r
+and the family ruin was eventually completed by a gambler in the\r
+days of the Regency . Nothing was left save a few acres of ground ,\r
+and the two - hundred - year - old house , which is itself crushed under\r
+a heavy mortgage . The last squire dragged out his existence\r
+there , living the horrible life of an aristocratic pauper ; but\r
+his only son , my stepfather , seeing that he must adapt himself to\r
+the new conditions , obtained an advance from a relative , which\r
+enabled him to take a medical degree and went out to Calcutta ,\r
+where , by his professional skill and his force of character , he\r
+established a large practice . In a fit of anger , however , caused\r
+by some robberies which had been perpetrated in the house , he\r
+beat his native butler to death and narrowly escaped a capital\r
+sentence . As it was , he suffered a long term of imprisonment and\r
+afterwards returned to England a morose and disappointed man .\r
+\r
+" When Dr . Roylott was in India he married my mother , Mrs . Stoner ,\r
+the young widow of Major - General Stoner , of the Bengal Artillery .\r
+My sister Julia and I were twins , and we were only two years old\r
+at the time of my mother's re - marriage . She had a considerable\r
+sum of money - not less than 1000 pounds a year - and this she\r
+bequeathed to Dr . Roylott entirely while we resided with him ,\r
+with a provision that a certain annual sum should be allowed to\r
+each of us in the event of our marriage . Shortly after our return\r
+to England my mother died - she was killed eight years ago in a\r
+railway accident near Crewe . Dr . Roylott then abandoned his\r
+attempts to establish himself in practice in London and took us\r
+to live with him in the old ancestral house at Stoke Moran . The\r
+money which my mother had left was enough for all our wants , and\r
+there seemed to be no obstacle to our happiness .\r
+\r
+" But a terrible change came over our stepfather about this time .\r
+Instead of making friends and exchanging visits with our\r
+neighbours , who had at first been overjoyed to see a Roylott of\r
+Stoke Moran back in the old family seat , he shut himself up in\r
+his house and seldom came out save to indulge in ferocious\r
+quarrels with whoever might cross his path . Violence of temper\r
+approaching to mania has been hereditary in the men of the\r
+family , and in my stepfather's case it had , I believe , been\r
+intensified by his long residence in the tropics . A series of\r
+disgraceful brawls took place , two of which ended in the\r
+police - court , until at last he became the terror of the village ,\r
+and the folks would fly at his approach , for he is a man of\r
+immense strength , and absolutely uncontrollable in his anger .\r
+\r
+" Last week he hurled the local blacksmith over a parapet into a\r
+stream , and it was only by paying over all the money which I\r
+could gather together that I was able to avert another public\r
+exposure . He had no friends at all save the wandering gipsies ,\r
+and he would give these vagabonds leave to encamp upon the few\r
+acres of bramble - covered land which represent the family estate ,\r
+and would accept in return the hospitality of their tents ,\r
+wandering away with them sometimes for weeks on end . He has a\r
+passion also for Indian animals , which are sent over to him by a\r
+correspondent , and he has at this moment a cheetah and a baboon ,\r
+which wander freely over his grounds and are feared by the\r
+villagers almost as much as their master .\r
+\r
+" You can imagine from what I say that my poor sister Julia and I\r
+had no great pleasure in our lives . No servant would stay with\r
+us , and for a long time we did all the work of the house . She was\r
+but thirty at the time of her death , and yet her hair had already\r
+begun to whiten , even as mine has "\r
+\r
+" Your sister is dead , then "\r
+\r
+" She died just two years ago , and it is of her death that I wish\r
+to speak to you . You can understand that , living the life which I\r
+have described , we were little likely to see anyone of our own\r
+age and position . We had , however , an aunt , my mother's maiden\r
+sister , Miss Honoria Westphail , who lives near Harrow , and we\r
+were occasionally allowed to pay short visits at this lady's\r
+house . Julia went there at Christmas two years ago , and met there\r
+a half - pay major of marines , to whom she became engaged . My\r
+stepfather learned of the engagement when my sister returned and\r
+offered no objection to the marriage ; but within a fortnight of\r
+the day which had been fixed for the wedding , the terrible event\r
+occurred which has deprived me of my only companion "\r
+\r
+Sherlock Holmes had been leaning back in his chair with his eyes\r
+closed and his head sunk in a cushion , but he half opened his\r
+lids now and glanced across at his visitor .\r
+\r
+" Pray be precise as to details " said he .\r
+\r
+" It is easy for me to be so , for every event of that dreadful\r
+time is seared into my memory . The manor - house is , as I have\r
+already said , very old , and only one wing is now inhabited . The\r
+bedrooms in this wing are on the ground floor , the sitting - rooms\r
+being in the central block of the buildings . Of these bedrooms\r
+the first is Dr . Roylott's , the second my sister's , and the third\r
+my own . There is no communication between them , but they all open\r
+out into the same corridor . Do I make myself plain "\r
+\r
+" Perfectly so "\r
+\r
+" The windows of the three rooms open out upon the lawn . That\r
+fatal night Dr . Roylott had gone to his room early , though we\r
+knew that he had not retired to rest , for my sister was troubled\r
+by the smell of the strong Indian cigars which it was his custom\r
+to smoke . She left her room , therefore , and came into mine , where\r
+she sat for some time , chatting about her approaching wedding . At\r
+eleven o'clock she rose to leave me , but she paused at the door\r
+and looked back .\r
+\r
+ ' Tell me , Helen ' said she , ' have you ever heard anyone whistle\r
+in the dead of the night '\r
+\r
+ ' Never ' said I .\r
+\r
+ ' I suppose that you could not possibly whistle , yourself , in\r
+your sleep '\r
+\r
+ ' Certainly not . But why '\r
+\r
+ ' Because during the last few nights I have always , about three\r
+in the morning , heard a low , clear whistle . I am a light sleeper ,\r
+and it has awakened me . I cannot tell where it came from - perhaps\r
+from the next room , perhaps from the lawn . I thought that I would\r
+just ask you whether you had heard it '\r
+\r
+ ' No , I have not . It must be those wretched gipsies in the\r
+plantation '\r
+\r
+ ' Very likely . And yet if it were on the lawn , I wonder that you\r
+did not hear it also '\r
+\r
+ ' Ah , but I sleep more heavily than you '\r
+\r
+ ' Well , it is of no great consequence , at any rate ' She smiled\r
+back at me , closed my door , and a few moments later I heard her\r
+key turn in the lock "\r
+\r
+" Indeed " said Holmes . " Was it your custom always to lock\r
+yourselves in at night "\r
+\r
+" Always "\r
+\r
+" And why "\r
+\r
+" I think that I mentioned to you that the doctor kept a cheetah\r
+and a baboon . We had no feeling of security unless our doors were\r
+locked "\r
+\r
+" Quite so . Pray proceed with your statement "\r
+\r
+" I could not sleep that night . A vague feeling of impending\r
+misfortune impressed me . My sister and I , you will recollect ,\r
+were twins , and you know how subtle are the links which bind two\r
+souls which are so closely allied . It was a wild night . The wind\r
+was howling outside , and the rain was beating and splashing\r
+against the windows . Suddenly , amid all the hubbub of the gale ,\r
+there burst forth the wild scream of a terrified woman . I knew\r
+that it was my sister's voice . I sprang from my bed , wrapped a\r
+shawl round me , and rushed into the corridor . As I opened my door\r
+I seemed to hear a low whistle , such as my sister described , and\r
+a few moments later a clanging sound , as if a mass of metal had\r
+fallen . As I ran down the passage , my sister's door was unlocked ,\r
+and revolved slowly upon its hinges . I stared at it\r
+horror - stricken , not knowing what was about to issue from it . By\r
+the light of the corridor - lamp I saw my sister appear at the\r
+opening , her face blanched with terror , her hands groping for\r
+help , her whole figure swaying to and fro like that of a\r
+drunkard . I ran to her and threw my arms round her , but at that\r
+moment her knees seemed to give way and she fell to the ground .\r
+She writhed as one who is in terrible pain , and her limbs were\r
+dreadfully convulsed . At first I thought that she had not\r
+recognised me , but as I bent over her she suddenly shrieked out\r
+in a voice which I shall never forget , ' Oh , my God ! Helen ! It was\r
+the band ! The speckled band ' There was something else which she\r
+would fain have said , and she stabbed with her finger into the\r
+air in the direction of the doctor's room , but a fresh convulsion\r
+seized her and choked her words . I rushed out , calling loudly for\r
+my stepfather , and I met him hastening from his room in his\r
+dressing - gown . When he reached my sister's side she was\r
+unconscious , and though he poured brandy down her throat and sent\r
+for medical aid from the village , all efforts were in vain , for\r
+she slowly sank and died without having recovered her\r
+consciousness . Such was the dreadful end of my beloved sister "\r
+\r
+" One moment " said Holmes , " are you sure about this whistle and\r
+metallic sound ? Could you swear to it "\r
+\r
+" That was what the county coroner asked me at the inquiry . It is\r
+my strong impression that I heard it , and yet , among the crash of\r
+the gale and the creaking of an old house , I may possibly have\r
+been deceived "\r
+\r
+" Was your sister dressed "\r
+\r
+" No , she was in her night - dress . In her right hand was found the\r
+charred stump of a match , and in her left a match - box "\r
+\r
+" Showing that she had struck a light and looked about her when\r
+the alarm took place . That is important . And what conclusions did\r
+the coroner come to "\r
+\r
+" He investigated the case with great care , for Dr . Roylott's\r
+conduct had long been notorious in the county , but he was unable\r
+to find any satisfactory cause of death . My evidence showed that\r
+the door had been fastened upon the inner side , and the windows\r
+were blocked by old - fashioned shutters with broad iron bars ,\r
+which were secured every night . The walls were carefully sounded ,\r
+and were shown to be quite solid all round , and the flooring was\r
+also thoroughly examined , with the same result . The chimney is\r
+wide , but is barred up by four large staples . It is certain ,\r
+therefore , that my sister was quite alone when she met her end .\r
+Besides , there were no marks of any violence upon her "\r
+\r
+" How about poison "\r
+\r
+" The doctors examined her for it , but without success "\r
+\r
+" What do you think that this unfortunate lady died of , then "\r
+\r
+" It is my belief that she died of pure fear and nervous shock ,\r
+though what it was that frightened her I cannot imagine "\r
+\r
+" Were there gipsies in the plantation at the time "\r
+\r
+" Yes , there are nearly always some there "\r
+\r
+" Ah , and what did you gather from this allusion to a band - a\r
+speckled band "\r
+\r
+" Sometimes I have thought that it was merely the wild talk of\r
+delirium , sometimes that it may have referred to some band of\r
+people , perhaps to these very gipsies in the plantation . I do not\r
+know whether the spotted handkerchiefs which so many of them wear\r
+over their heads might have suggested the strange adjective which\r
+she used "\r
+\r
+Holmes shook his head like a man who is far from being satisfied .\r
+\r
+" These are very deep waters " said he ; " pray go on with your\r
+narrative "\r
+\r
+" Two years have passed since then , and my life has been until\r
+lately lonelier than ever . A month ago , however , a dear friend ,\r
+whom I have known for many years , has done me the honour to ask\r
+my hand in marriage . His name is Armitage - Percy Armitage - the\r
+second son of Mr . Armitage , of Crane Water , near Reading . My\r
+stepfather has offered no opposition to the match , and we are to\r
+be married in the course of the spring . Two days ago some repairs\r
+were started in the west wing of the building , and my bedroom\r
+wall has been pierced , so that I have had to move into the\r
+chamber in which my sister died , and to sleep in the very bed in\r
+which she slept . Imagine , then , my thrill of terror when last\r
+night , as I lay awake , thinking over her terrible fate , I\r
+suddenly heard in the silence of the night the low whistle which\r
+had been the herald of her own death . I sprang up and lit the\r
+lamp , but nothing was to be seen in the room . I was too shaken to\r
+go to bed again , however , so I dressed , and as soon as it was\r
+daylight I slipped down , got a dog - cart at the Crown Inn , which\r
+is opposite , and drove to Leatherhead , from whence I have come on\r
+this morning with the one object of seeing you and asking your\r
+advice "\r
+\r
+" You have done wisely " said my friend . " But have you told me\r
+all "\r
+\r
+" Yes , all "\r
+\r
+" Miss Roylott , you have not . You are screening your stepfather "\r
+\r
+" Why , what do you mean "\r
+\r
+For answer Holmes pushed back the frill of black lace which\r
+fringed the hand that lay upon our visitor's knee . Five little\r
+livid spots , the marks of four fingers and a thumb , were printed\r
+upon the white wrist .\r
+\r
+" You have been cruelly used " said Holmes .\r
+\r
+The lady coloured deeply and covered over her injured wrist . " He\r
+is a hard man " she said , " and perhaps he hardly knows his own\r
+strength "\r
+\r
+There was a long silence , during which Holmes leaned his chin\r
+upon his hands and stared into the crackling fire .\r
+\r
+" This is a very deep business " he said at last . " There are a\r
+thousand details which I should desire to know before I decide\r
+upon our course of action . Yet we have not a moment to lose . If\r
+we were to come to Stoke Moran to - day , would it be possible for\r
+us to see over these rooms without the knowledge of your\r
+stepfather "\r
+\r
+" As it happens , he spoke of coming into town to - day upon some\r
+most important business . It is probable that he will be away all\r
+day , and that there would be nothing to disturb you . We have a\r
+housekeeper now , but she is old and foolish , and I could easily\r
+get her out of the way "\r
+\r
+" Excellent . You are not averse to this trip , Watson "\r
+\r
+" By no means "\r
+\r
+" Then we shall both come . What are you going to do yourself "\r
+\r
+" I have one or two things which I would wish to do now that I am\r
+in town . But I shall return by the twelve o'clock train , so as to\r
+be there in time for your coming "\r
+\r
+" And you may expect us early in the afternoon . I have myself some\r
+small business matters to attend to . Will you not wait and\r
+breakfast "\r
+\r
+" No , I must go . My heart is lightened already since I have\r
+confided my trouble to you . I shall look forward to seeing you\r
+again this afternoon " She dropped her thick black veil over her\r
+face and glided from the room .\r
+\r
+" And what do you think of it all , Watson " asked Sherlock Holmes ,\r
+leaning back in his chair .\r
+\r
+" It seems to me to be a most dark and sinister business "\r
+\r
+" Dark enough and sinister enough "\r
+\r
+" Yet if the lady is correct in saying that the flooring and walls\r
+are sound , and that the door , window , and chimney are impassable ,\r
+then her sister must have been undoubtedly alone when she met her\r
+mysterious end "\r
+\r
+" What becomes , then , of these nocturnal whistles , and what of the\r
+very peculiar words of the dying woman "\r
+\r
+" I cannot think "\r
+\r
+" When you combine the ideas of whistles at night , the presence of\r
+a band of gipsies who are on intimate terms with this old doctor ,\r
+the fact that we have every reason to believe that the doctor has\r
+an interest in preventing his stepdaughter's marriage , the dying\r
+allusion to a band , and , finally , the fact that Miss Helen Stoner\r
+heard a metallic clang , which might have been caused by one of\r
+those metal bars that secured the shutters falling back into its\r
+place , I think that there is good ground to think that the\r
+mystery may be cleared along those lines "\r
+\r
+" But what , then , did the gipsies do "\r
+\r
+" I cannot imagine "\r
+\r
+" I see many objections to any such theory "\r
+\r
+" And so do I . It is precisely for that reason that we are going\r
+to Stoke Moran this day . I want to see whether the objections are\r
+fatal , or if they may be explained away . But what in the name of\r
+the devil "\r
+\r
+The ejaculation had been drawn from my companion by the fact that\r
+our door had been suddenly dashed open , and that a huge man had\r
+framed himself in the aperture . His costume was a peculiar\r
+mixture of the professional and of the agricultural , having a\r
+black top - hat , a long frock - coat , and a pair of high gaiters ,\r
+with a hunting - crop swinging in his hand . So tall was he that his\r
+hat actually brushed the cross bar of the doorway , and his\r
+breadth seemed to span it across from side to side . A large face ,\r
+seared with a thousand wrinkles , burned yellow with the sun , and\r
+marked with every evil passion , was turned from one to the other\r
+of us , while his deep - set , bile - shot eyes , and his high , thin ,\r
+fleshless nose , gave him somewhat the resemblance to a fierce old\r
+bird of prey .\r
+\r
+" Which of you is Holmes " asked this apparition .\r
+\r
+" My name , sir ; but you have the advantage of me " said my\r
+companion quietly .\r
+\r
+" I am Dr . Grimesby Roylott , of Stoke Moran "\r
+\r
+" Indeed , Doctor " said Holmes blandly . " Pray take a seat "\r
+\r
+" I will do nothing of the kind . My stepdaughter has been here . I\r
+have traced her . What has she been saying to you "\r
+\r
+" It is a little cold for the time of the year " said Holmes .\r
+\r
+" What has she been saying to you " screamed the old man\r
+furiously .\r
+\r
+" But I have heard that the crocuses promise well " continued my\r
+companion imperturbably .\r
+\r
+" Ha ! You put me off , do you " said our new visitor , taking a step\r
+forward and shaking his hunting - crop . " I know you , you scoundrel !\r
+I have heard of you before . You are Holmes , the meddler "\r
+\r
+My friend smiled .\r
+\r
+" Holmes , the busybody "\r
+\r
+His smile broadened .\r
+\r
+" Holmes , the Scotland Yard Jack - in - office "\r
+\r
+Holmes chuckled heartily . " Your conversation is most\r
+entertaining " said he . " When you go out close the door , for\r
+there is a decided draught "\r
+\r
+" I will go when I have said my say . Don't you dare to meddle with\r
+my affairs . I know that Miss Stoner has been here . I traced her !\r
+I am a dangerous man to fall foul of ! See here " He stepped\r
+swiftly forward , seized the poker , and bent it into a curve with\r
+his huge brown hands .\r
+\r
+" See that you keep yourself out of my grip " he snarled , and\r
+hurling the twisted poker into the fireplace he strode out of the\r
+room .\r
+\r
+" He seems a very amiable person " said Holmes , laughing . " I am\r
+not quite so bulky , but if he had remained I might have shown him\r
+that my grip was not much more feeble than his own " As he spoke\r
+he picked up the steel poker and , with a sudden effort ,\r
+straightened it out again .\r
+\r
+" Fancy his having the insolence to confound me with the official\r
+detective force ! This incident gives zest to our investigation ,\r
+however , and I only trust that our little friend will not suffer\r
+from her imprudence in allowing this brute to trace her . And now ,\r
+Watson , we shall order breakfast , and afterwards I shall walk\r
+down to Doctors ' Commons , where I hope to get some data which may\r
+help us in this matter "\r
+\r
+\r
+It was nearly one o'clock when Sherlock Holmes returned from his\r
+excursion . He held in his hand a sheet of blue paper , scrawled\r
+over with notes and figures .\r
+\r
+" I have seen the will of the deceased wife " said he . " To\r
+determine its exact meaning I have been obliged to work out the\r
+present prices of the investments with which it is concerned . The\r
+total income , which at the time of the wife's death was little\r
+short of 1100 pounds , is now , through the fall in agricultural\r
+prices , not more than 750 pounds . Each daughter can claim an\r
+income of 250 pounds , in case of marriage . It is evident ,\r
+therefore , that if both girls had married , this beauty would have\r
+had a mere pittance , while even one of them would cripple him to\r
+a very serious extent . My morning's work has not been wasted ,\r
+since it has proved that he has the very strongest motives for\r
+standing in the way of anything of the sort . And now , Watson ,\r
+this is too serious for dawdling , especially as the old man is\r
+aware that we are interesting ourselves in his affairs ; so if you\r
+are ready , we shall call a cab and drive to Waterloo . I should be\r
+very much obliged if you would slip your revolver into your\r
+pocket . An Eley's No . 2 is an excellent argument with gentlemen\r
+who can twist steel pokers into knots . That and a tooth - brush\r
+are , I think , all that we need "\r
+\r
+At Waterloo we were fortunate in catching a train for\r
+Leatherhead , where we hired a trap at the station inn and drove\r
+for four or five miles through the lovely Surrey lanes . It was a\r
+perfect day , with a bright sun and a few fleecy clouds in the\r
+heavens . The trees and wayside hedges were just throwing out\r
+their first green shoots , and the air was full of the pleasant\r
+smell of the moist earth . To me at least there was a strange\r
+contrast between the sweet promise of the spring and this\r
+sinister quest upon which we were engaged . My companion sat in\r
+the front of the trap , his arms folded , his hat pulled down over\r
+his eyes , and his chin sunk upon his breast , buried in the\r
+deepest thought . Suddenly , however , he started , tapped me on the\r
+shoulder , and pointed over the meadows .\r
+\r
+" Look there " said he .\r
+\r
+A heavily timbered park stretched up in a gentle slope ,\r
+thickening into a grove at the highest point . From amid the\r
+branches there jutted out the grey gables and high roof - tree of a\r
+very old mansion .\r
+\r
+" Stoke Moran " said he .\r
+\r
+" Yes , sir , that be the house of Dr . Grimesby Roylott " remarked\r
+the driver .\r
+\r
+" There is some building going on there " said Holmes ; " that is\r
+where we are going "\r
+\r
+" There's the village " said the driver , pointing to a cluster of\r
+roofs some distance to the left ; " but if you want to get to the\r
+house , you ' ll find it shorter to get over this stile , and so by\r
+the foot - path over the fields . There it is , where the lady is\r
+walking "\r
+\r
+" And the lady , I fancy , is Miss Stoner " observed Holmes , shading\r
+his eyes . " Yes , I think we had better do as you suggest "\r
+\r
+We got off , paid our fare , and the trap rattled back on its way\r
+to Leatherhead .\r
+\r
+" I thought it as well " said Holmes as we climbed the stile ,\r
+" that this fellow should think we had come here as architects , or\r
+on some definite business . It may stop his gossip .\r
+Good - afternoon , Miss Stoner . You see that we have been as good as\r
+our word "\r
+\r
+Our client of the morning had hurried forward to meet us with a\r
+face which spoke her joy . " I have been waiting so eagerly for\r
+you " she cried , shaking hands with us warmly . " All has turned\r
+out splendidly . Dr . Roylott has gone to town , and it is unlikely\r
+that he will be back before evening "\r
+\r
+" We have had the pleasure of making the doctor's acquaintance "\r
+said Holmes , and in a few words he sketched out what had\r
+occurred . Miss Stoner turned white to the lips as she listened .\r
+\r
+" Good heavens " she cried , " he has followed me , then "\r
+\r
+" So it appears "\r
+\r
+" He is so cunning that I never know when I am safe from him . What\r
+will he say when he returns "\r
+\r
+" He must guard himself , for he may find that there is someone\r
+more cunning than himself upon his track . You must lock yourself\r
+up from him to - night . If he is violent , we shall take you away to\r
+your aunt's at Harrow . Now , we must make the best use of our\r
+time , so kindly take us at once to the rooms which we are to\r
+examine "\r
+\r
+The building was of grey , lichen - blotched stone , with a high\r
+central portion and two curving wings , like the claws of a crab ,\r
+thrown out on each side . In one of these wings the windows were\r
+broken and blocked with wooden boards , while the roof was partly\r
+caved in , a picture of ruin . The central portion was in little\r
+better repair , but the right - hand block was comparatively modern ,\r
+and the blinds in the windows , with the blue smoke curling up\r
+from the chimneys , showed that this was where the family resided .\r
+Some scaffolding had been erected against the end wall , and the\r
+stone - work had been broken into , but there were no signs of any\r
+workmen at the moment of our visit . Holmes walked slowly up and\r
+down the ill - trimmed lawn and examined with deep attention the\r
+outsides of the windows .\r
+\r
+" This , I take it , belongs to the room in which you used to sleep ,\r
+the centre one to your sister's , and the one next to the main\r
+building to Dr . Roylott's chamber "\r
+\r
+" Exactly so . But I am now sleeping in the middle one "\r
+\r
+" Pending the alterations , as I understand . By the way , there does\r
+not seem to be any very pressing need for repairs at that end\r
+wall "\r
+\r
+" There were none . I believe that it was an excuse to move me from\r
+my room "\r
+\r
+" Ah ! that is suggestive . Now , on the other side of this narrow\r
+wing runs the corridor from which these three rooms open . There\r
+are windows in it , of course "\r
+\r
+" Yes , but very small ones . Too narrow for anyone to pass\r
+through "\r
+\r
+" As you both locked your doors at night , your rooms were\r
+unapproachable from that side . Now , would you have the kindness\r
+to go into your room and bar your shutters "\r
+\r
+Miss Stoner did so , and Holmes , after a careful examination\r
+through the open window , endeavoured in every way to force the\r
+shutter open , but without success . There was no slit through\r
+which a knife could be passed to raise the bar . Then with his\r
+lens he tested the hinges , but they were of solid iron , built\r
+firmly into the massive masonry . " Hum " said he , scratching his\r
+chin in some perplexity , " my theory certainly presents some\r
+difficulties . No one could pass these shutters if they were\r
+bolted . Well , we shall see if the inside throws any light upon\r
+the matter "\r
+\r
+A small side door led into the whitewashed corridor from which\r
+the three bedrooms opened . Holmes refused to examine the third\r
+chamber , so we passed at once to the second , that in which Miss\r
+Stoner was now sleeping , and in which her sister had met with her\r
+fate . It was a homely little room , with a low ceiling and a\r
+gaping fireplace , after the fashion of old country - houses . A\r
+brown chest of drawers stood in one corner , a narrow\r
+white - counterpaned bed in another , and a dressing - table on the\r
+left - hand side of the window . These articles , with two small\r
+wicker - work chairs , made up all the furniture in the room save\r
+for a square of Wilton carpet in the centre . The boards round and\r
+the panelling of the walls were of brown , worm - eaten oak , so old\r
+and discoloured that it may have dated from the original building\r
+of the house . Holmes drew one of the chairs into a corner and sat\r
+silent , while his eyes travelled round and round and up and down ,\r
+taking in every detail of the apartment .\r
+\r
+" Where does that bell communicate with " he asked at last\r
+pointing to a thick bell - rope which hung down beside the bed , the\r
+tassel actually lying upon the pillow .\r
+\r
+" It goes to the housekeeper's room "\r
+\r
+" It looks newer than the other things "\r
+\r
+" Yes , it was only put there a couple of years ago "\r
+\r
+" Your sister asked for it , I suppose "\r
+\r
+" No , I never heard of her using it . We used always to get what we\r
+wanted for ourselves "\r
+\r
+" Indeed , it seemed unnecessary to put so nice a bell - pull there .\r
+You will excuse me for a few minutes while I satisfy myself as to\r
+this floor " He threw himself down upon his face with his lens in\r
+his hand and crawled swiftly backward and forward , examining\r
+minutely the cracks between the boards . Then he did the same with\r
+the wood - work with which the chamber was panelled . Finally he\r
+walked over to the bed and spent some time in staring at it and\r
+in running his eye up and down the wall . Finally he took the\r
+bell - rope in his hand and gave it a brisk tug .\r
+\r
+" Why , it's a dummy " said he .\r
+\r
+" Won't it ring "\r
+\r
+" No , it is not even attached to a wire . This is very interesting .\r
+You can see now that it is fastened to a hook just above where\r
+the little opening for the ventilator is "\r
+\r
+" How very absurd ! I never noticed that before "\r
+\r
+" Very strange " muttered Holmes , pulling at the rope . " There are\r
+one or two very singular points about this room . For example ,\r
+what a fool a builder must be to open a ventilator into another\r
+room , when , with the same trouble , he might have communicated\r
+with the outside air "\r
+\r
+" That is also quite modern " said the lady .\r
+\r
+" Done about the same time as the bell - rope " remarked Holmes .\r
+\r
+" Yes , there were several little changes carried out about that\r
+time "\r
+\r
+" They seem to have been of a most interesting character - dummy\r
+bell - ropes , and ventilators which do not ventilate . With your\r
+permission , Miss Stoner , we shall now carry our researches into\r
+the inner apartment "\r
+\r
+Dr . Grimesby Roylott's chamber was larger than that of his\r
+step - daughter , but was as plainly furnished . A camp - bed , a small\r
+wooden shelf full of books , mostly of a technical character , an\r
+armchair beside the bed , a plain wooden chair against the wall , a\r
+round table , and a large iron safe were the principal things\r
+which met the eye . Holmes walked slowly round and examined each\r
+and all of them with the keenest interest .\r
+\r
+" What's in here " he asked , tapping the safe .\r
+\r
+" My stepfather's business papers "\r
+\r
+" Oh ! you have seen inside , then "\r
+\r
+" Only once , some years ago . I remember that it was full of\r
+papers "\r
+\r
+" There isn't a cat in it , for example "\r
+\r
+" No . What a strange idea "\r
+\r
+" Well , look at this " He took up a small saucer of milk which\r
+stood on the top of it .\r
+\r
+" No ; we don't keep a cat . But there is a cheetah and a baboon "\r
+\r
+" Ah , yes , of course ! Well , a cheetah is just a big cat , and yet a\r
+saucer of milk does not go very far in satisfying its wants , I\r
+daresay . There is one point which I should wish to determine " He\r
+squatted down in front of the wooden chair and examined the seat\r
+of it with the greatest attention .\r
+\r
+" Thank you . That is quite settled " said he , rising and putting\r
+his lens in his pocket . " Hullo ! Here is something interesting "\r
+\r
+The object which had caught his eye was a small dog lash hung on\r
+one corner of the bed . The lash , however , was curled upon itself\r
+and tied so as to make a loop of whipcord .\r
+\r
+" What do you make of that , Watson "\r
+\r
+" It's a common enough lash . But I don't know why it should be\r
+tied "\r
+\r
+" That is not quite so common , is it ? Ah , me ! it's a wicked world ,\r
+and when a clever man turns his brains to crime it is the worst\r
+of all . I think that I have seen enough now , Miss Stoner , and\r
+with your permission we shall walk out upon the lawn "\r
+\r
+I had never seen my friend's face so grim or his brow so dark as\r
+it was when we turned from the scene of this investigation . We\r
+had walked several times up and down the lawn , neither Miss\r
+Stoner nor myself liking to break in upon his thoughts before he\r
+roused himself from his reverie .\r
+\r
+" It is very essential , Miss Stoner " said he , " that you should\r
+absolutely follow my advice in every respect "\r
+\r
+" I shall most certainly do so "\r
+\r
+" The matter is too serious for any hesitation . Your life may\r
+depend upon your compliance "\r
+\r
+" I assure you that I am in your hands "\r
+\r
+" In the first place , both my friend and I must spend the night in\r
+your room "\r
+\r
+Both Miss Stoner and I gazed at him in astonishment .\r
+\r
+" Yes , it must be so . Let me explain . I believe that that is the\r
+village inn over there "\r
+\r
+" Yes , that is the Crown "\r
+\r
+" Very good . Your windows would be visible from there "\r
+\r
+" Certainly "\r
+\r
+" You must confine yourself to your room , on pretence of a\r
+headache , when your stepfather comes back . Then when you hear him\r
+retire for the night , you must open the shutters of your window ,\r
+undo the hasp , put your lamp there as a signal to us , and then\r
+withdraw quietly with everything which you are likely to want\r
+into the room which you used to occupy . I have no doubt that , in\r
+spite of the repairs , you could manage there for one night "\r
+\r
+" Oh , yes , easily "\r
+\r
+" The rest you will leave in our hands "\r
+\r
+" But what will you do "\r
+\r
+" We shall spend the night in your room , and we shall investigate\r
+the cause of this noise which has disturbed you "\r
+\r
+" I believe , Mr . Holmes , that you have already made up your mind "\r
+said Miss Stoner , laying her hand upon my companion's sleeve .\r
+\r
+" Perhaps I have "\r
+\r
+" Then , for pity's sake , tell me what was the cause of my sister's\r
+death "\r
+\r
+" I should prefer to have clearer proofs before I speak "\r
+\r
+" You can at least tell me whether my own thought is correct , and\r
+if she died from some sudden fright "\r
+\r
+" No , I do not think so . I think that there was probably some more\r
+tangible cause . And now , Miss Stoner , we must leave you for if\r
+Dr . Roylott returned and saw us our journey would be in vain .\r
+Good - bye , and be brave , for if you will do what I have told you ,\r
+you may rest assured that we shall soon drive away the dangers\r
+that threaten you "\r
+\r
+Sherlock Holmes and I had no difficulty in engaging a bedroom and\r
+sitting - room at the Crown Inn . They were on the upper floor , and\r
+from our window we could command a view of the avenue gate , and\r
+of the inhabited wing of Stoke Moran Manor House . At dusk we saw\r
+Dr . Grimesby Roylott drive past , his huge form looming up beside\r
+the little figure of the lad who drove him . The boy had some\r
+slight difficulty in undoing the heavy iron gates , and we heard\r
+the hoarse roar of the doctor's voice and saw the fury with which\r
+he shook his clinched fists at him . The trap drove on , and a few\r
+minutes later we saw a sudden light spring up among the trees as\r
+the lamp was lit in one of the sitting - rooms .\r
+\r
+" Do you know , Watson " said Holmes as we sat together in the\r
+gathering darkness , " I have really some scruples as to taking you\r
+to - night . There is a distinct element of danger "\r
+\r
+" Can I be of assistance "\r
+\r
+" Your presence might be invaluable "\r
+\r
+" Then I shall certainly come "\r
+\r
+" It is very kind of you "\r
+\r
+" You speak of danger . You have evidently seen more in these rooms\r
+than was visible to me "\r
+\r
+" No , but I fancy that I may have deduced a little more . I imagine\r
+that you saw all that I did "\r
+\r
+" I saw nothing remarkable save the bell - rope , and what purpose\r
+that could answer I confess is more than I can imagine "\r
+\r
+" You saw the ventilator , too "\r
+\r
+" Yes , but I do not think that it is such a very unusual thing to\r
+have a small opening between two rooms . It was so small that a\r
+rat could hardly pass through "\r
+\r
+" I knew that we should find a ventilator before ever we came to\r
+Stoke Moran "\r
+\r
+" My dear Holmes "\r
+\r
+" Oh , yes , I did . You remember in her statement she said that her\r
+sister could smell Dr . Roylott's cigar . Now , of course that\r
+suggested at once that there must be a communication between the\r
+two rooms . It could only be a small one , or it would have been\r
+remarked upon at the coroner's inquiry . I deduced a ventilator "\r
+\r
+" But what harm can there be in that "\r
+\r
+" Well , there is at least a curious coincidence of dates . A\r
+ventilator is made , a cord is hung , and a lady who sleeps in the\r
+bed dies . Does not that strike you "\r
+\r
+" I cannot as yet see any connection "\r
+\r
+" Did you observe anything very peculiar about that bed "\r
+\r
+" No "\r
+\r
+" It was clamped to the floor . Did you ever see a bed fastened\r
+like that before "\r
+\r
+" I cannot say that I have "\r
+\r
+" The lady could not move her bed . It must always be in the same\r
+relative position to the ventilator and to the rope - or so we may\r
+call it , since it was clearly never meant for a bell - pull "\r
+\r
+" Holmes " I cried , " I seem to see dimly what you are hinting at .\r
+We are only just in time to prevent some subtle and horrible\r
+crime "\r
+\r
+" Subtle enough and horrible enough . When a doctor does go wrong\r
+he is the first of criminals . He has nerve and he has knowledge .\r
+Palmer and Pritchard were among the heads of their profession .\r
+This man strikes even deeper , but I think , Watson , that we shall\r
+be able to strike deeper still . But we shall have horrors enough\r
+before the night is over ; for goodness ' sake let us have a quiet\r
+pipe and turn our minds for a few hours to something more\r
+cheerful "\r
+\r
+\r
+About nine o'clock the light among the trees was extinguished ,\r
+and all was dark in the direction of the Manor House . Two hours\r
+passed slowly away , and then , suddenly , just at the stroke of\r
+eleven , a single bright light shone out right in front of us .\r
+\r
+" That is our signal " said Holmes , springing to his feet ; " it\r
+comes from the middle window "\r
+\r
+As we passed out he exchanged a few words with the landlord ,\r
+explaining that we were going on a late visit to an acquaintance ,\r
+and that it was possible that we might spend the night there . A\r
+moment later we were out on the dark road , a chill wind blowing\r
+in our faces , and one yellow light twinkling in front of us\r
+through the gloom to guide us on our sombre errand .\r
+\r
+There was little difficulty in entering the grounds , for\r
+unrepaired breaches gaped in the old park wall . Making our way\r
+among the trees , we reached the lawn , crossed it , and were about\r
+to enter through the window when out from a clump of laurel\r
+bushes there darted what seemed to be a hideous and distorted\r
+child , who threw itself upon the grass with writhing limbs and\r
+then ran swiftly across the lawn into the darkness .\r
+\r
+" My God " I whispered ; " did you see it "\r
+\r
+Holmes was for the moment as startled as I . His hand closed like\r
+a vice upon my wrist in his agitation . Then he broke into a low\r
+laugh and put his lips to my ear .\r
+\r
+" It is a nice household " he murmured . " That is the baboon "\r
+\r
+I had forgotten the strange pets which the doctor affected . There\r
+was a cheetah , too ; perhaps we might find it upon our shoulders\r
+at any moment . I confess that I felt easier in my mind when ,\r
+after following Holmes ' example and slipping off my shoes , I\r
+found myself inside the bedroom . My companion noiselessly closed\r
+the shutters , moved the lamp onto the table , and cast his eyes\r
+round the room . All was as we had seen it in the daytime . Then\r
+creeping up to me and making a trumpet of his hand , he whispered\r
+into my ear again so gently that it was all that I could do to\r
+distinguish the words :\r
+\r
+" The least sound would be fatal to our plans "\r
+\r
+I nodded to show that I had heard .\r
+\r
+" We must sit without light . He would see it through the\r
+ventilator "\r
+\r
+I nodded again .\r
+\r
+" Do not go asleep ; your very life may depend upon it . Have your\r
+pistol ready in case we should need it . I will sit on the side of\r
+the bed , and you in that chair "\r
+\r
+I took out my revolver and laid it on the corner of the table .\r
+\r
+Holmes had brought up a long thin cane , and this he placed upon\r
+the bed beside him . By it he laid the box of matches and the\r
+stump of a candle . Then he turned down the lamp , and we were left\r
+in darkness .\r
+\r
+How shall I ever forget that dreadful vigil ? I could not hear a\r
+sound , not even the drawing of a breath , and yet I knew that my\r
+companion sat open - eyed , within a few feet of me , in the same\r
+state of nervous tension in which I was myself . The shutters cut\r
+off the least ray of light , and we waited in absolute darkness .\r
+\r
+From outside came the occasional cry of a night - bird , and once at\r
+our very window a long drawn catlike whine , which told us that\r
+the cheetah was indeed at liberty . Far away we could hear the\r
+deep tones of the parish clock , which boomed out every quarter of\r
+an hour . How long they seemed , those quarters ! Twelve struck , and\r
+one and two and three , and still we sat waiting silently for\r
+whatever might befall .\r
+\r
+Suddenly there was the momentary gleam of a light up in the\r
+direction of the ventilator , which vanished immediately , but was\r
+succeeded by a strong smell of burning oil and heated metal .\r
+Someone in the next room had lit a dark - lantern . I heard a gentle\r
+sound of movement , and then all was silent once more , though the\r
+smell grew stronger . For half an hour I sat with straining ears .\r
+Then suddenly another sound became audible - a very gentle ,\r
+soothing sound , like that of a small jet of steam escaping\r
+continually from a kettle . The instant that we heard it , Holmes\r
+sprang from the bed , struck a match , and lashed furiously with\r
+his cane at the bell - pull .\r
+\r
+" You see it , Watson " he yelled . " You see it "\r
+\r
+But I saw nothing . At the moment when Holmes struck the light I\r
+heard a low , clear whistle , but the sudden glare flashing into my\r
+weary eyes made it impossible for me to tell what it was at which\r
+my friend lashed so savagely . I could , however , see that his face\r
+was deadly pale and filled with horror and loathing . He had\r
+ceased to strike and was gazing up at the ventilator when\r
+suddenly there broke from the silence of the night the most\r
+horrible cry to which I have ever listened . It swelled up louder\r
+and louder , a hoarse yell of pain and fear and anger all mingled\r
+in the one dreadful shriek . They say that away down in the\r
+village , and even in the distant parsonage , that cry raised the\r
+sleepers from their beds . It struck cold to our hearts , and I\r
+stood gazing at Holmes , and he at me , until the last echoes of it\r
+had died away into the silence from which it rose .\r
+\r
+" What can it mean " I gasped .\r
+\r
+" It means that it is all over " Holmes answered . " And perhaps ,\r
+after all , it is for the best . Take your pistol , and we will\r
+enter Dr . Roylott's room "\r
+\r
+With a grave face he lit the lamp and led the way down the\r
+corridor . Twice he struck at the chamber door without any reply\r
+from within . Then he turned the handle and entered , I at his\r
+heels , with the cocked pistol in my hand .\r
+\r
+It was a singular sight which met our eyes . On the table stood a\r
+dark - lantern with the shutter half open , throwing a brilliant\r
+beam of light upon the iron safe , the door of which was ajar .\r
+Beside this table , on the wooden chair , sat Dr . Grimesby Roylott\r
+clad in a long grey dressing - gown , his bare ankles protruding\r
+beneath , and his feet thrust into red heelless Turkish slippers .\r
+Across his lap lay the short stock with the long lash which we\r
+had noticed during the day . His chin was cocked upward and his\r
+eyes were fixed in a dreadful , rigid stare at the corner of the\r
+ceiling . Round his brow he had a peculiar yellow band , with\r
+brownish speckles , which seemed to be bound tightly round his\r
+head . As we entered he made neither sound nor motion .\r
+\r
+" The band ! the speckled band " whispered Holmes .\r
+\r
+I took a step forward . In an instant his strange headgear began\r
+to move , and there reared itself from among his hair the squat\r
+diamond - shaped head and puffed neck of a loathsome serpent .\r
+\r
+" It is a swamp adder " cried Holmes ; " the deadliest snake in\r
+India . He has died within ten seconds of being bitten . Violence\r
+does , in truth , recoil upon the violent , and the schemer falls\r
+into the pit which he digs for another . Let us thrust this\r
+creature back into its den , and we can then remove Miss Stoner to\r
+some place of shelter and let the county police know what has\r
+happened "\r
+\r
+As he spoke he drew the dog - whip swiftly from the dead man's lap ,\r
+and throwing the noose round the reptile's neck he drew it from\r
+its horrid perch and , carrying it at arm's length , threw it into\r
+the iron safe , which he closed upon it .\r
+\r
+Such are the true facts of the death of Dr . Grimesby Roylott , of\r
+Stoke Moran . It is not necessary that I should prolong a\r
+narrative which has already run to too great a length by telling\r
+how we broke the sad news to the terrified girl , how we conveyed\r
+her by the morning train to the care of her good aunt at Harrow ,\r
+of how the slow process of official inquiry came to the\r
+conclusion that the doctor met his fate while indiscreetly\r
+playing with a dangerous pet . The little which I had yet to learn\r
+of the case was told me by Sherlock Holmes as we travelled back\r
+next day .\r
+\r
+" I had " said he , " come to an entirely erroneous conclusion which\r
+shows , my dear Watson , how dangerous it always is to reason from\r
+insufficient data . The presence of the gipsies , and the use of\r
+the word ' band ' which was used by the poor girl , no doubt , to\r
+explain the appearance which she had caught a hurried glimpse of\r
+by the light of her match , were sufficient to put me upon an\r
+entirely wrong scent . I can only claim the merit that I instantly\r
+reconsidered my position when , however , it became clear to me\r
+that whatever danger threatened an occupant of the room could not\r
+come either from the window or the door . My attention was\r
+speedily drawn , as I have already remarked to you , to this\r
+ventilator , and to the bell - rope which hung down to the bed . The\r
+discovery that this was a dummy , and that the bed was clamped to\r
+the floor , instantly gave rise to the suspicion that the rope was\r
+there as a bridge for something passing through the hole and\r
+coming to the bed . The idea of a snake instantly occurred to me ,\r
+and when I coupled it with my knowledge that the doctor was\r
+furnished with a supply of creatures from India , I felt that I\r
+was probably on the right track . The idea of using a form of\r
+poison which could not possibly be discovered by any chemical\r
+test was just such a one as would occur to a clever and ruthless\r
+man who had had an Eastern training . The rapidity with which such\r
+a poison would take effect would also , from his point of view , be\r
+an advantage . It would be a sharp - eyed coroner , indeed , who could\r
+distinguish the two little dark punctures which would show where\r
+the poison fangs had done their work . Then I thought of the\r
+whistle . Of course he must recall the snake before the morning\r
+light revealed it to the victim . He had trained it , probably by\r
+the use of the milk which we saw , to return to him when summoned .\r
+He would put it through this ventilator at the hour that he\r
+thought best , with the certainty that it would crawl down the\r
+rope and land on the bed . It might or might not bite the\r
+occupant , perhaps she might escape every night for a week , but\r
+sooner or later she must fall a victim .\r
+\r
+" I had come to these conclusions before ever I had entered his\r
+room . An inspection of his chair showed me that he had been in\r
+the habit of standing on it , which of course would be necessary\r
+in order that he should reach the ventilator . The sight of the\r
+safe , the saucer of milk , and the loop of whipcord were enough to\r
+finally dispel any doubts which may have remained . The metallic\r
+clang heard by Miss Stoner was obviously caused by her stepfather\r
+hastily closing the door of his safe upon its terrible occupant .\r
+Having once made up my mind , you know the steps which I took in\r
+order to put the matter to the proof . I heard the creature hiss\r
+as I have no doubt that you did also , and I instantly lit the\r
+light and attacked it "\r
+\r
+" With the result of driving it through the ventilator "\r
+\r
+" And also with the result of causing it to turn upon its master\r
+at the other side . Some of the blows of my cane came home and\r
+roused its snakish temper , so that it flew upon the first person\r
+it saw . In this way I am no doubt indirectly responsible for Dr .\r
+Grimesby Roylott's death , and I cannot say that it is likely to\r
+weigh very heavily upon my conscience "\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+IX . THE ADVENTURE OF THE ENGINEER ' S THUMB\r
+\r
+Of all the problems which have been submitted to my friend , Mr .\r
+Sherlock Holmes , for solution during the years of our intimacy ,\r
+there were only two which I was the means of introducing to his\r
+notice - that of Mr . Hatherley's thumb , and that of Colonel\r
+Warburton's madness . Of these the latter may have afforded a\r
+finer field for an acute and original observer , but the other was\r
+so strange in its inception and so dramatic in its details that\r
+it may be the more worthy of being placed upon record , even if it\r
+gave my friend fewer openings for those deductive methods of\r
+reasoning by which he achieved such remarkable results . The story\r
+has , I believe , been told more than once in the newspapers , but ,\r
+like all such narratives , its effect is much less striking when\r
+set forth en bloc in a single half - column of print than when the\r
+facts slowly evolve before your own eyes , and the mystery clears\r
+gradually away as each new discovery furnishes a step which leads\r
+on to the complete truth . At the time the circumstances made a\r
+deep impression upon me , and the lapse of two years has hardly\r
+served to weaken the effect .\r
+\r
+It was in the summer of ' 89 , not long after my marriage , that the\r
+events occurred which I am now about to summarise . I had returned\r
+to civil practice and had finally abandoned Holmes in his Baker\r
+Street rooms , although I continually visited him and occasionally\r
+even persuaded him to forgo his Bohemian habits so far as to come\r
+and visit us . My practice had steadily increased , and as I\r
+happened to live at no very great distance from Paddington\r
+Station , I got a few patients from among the officials . One of\r
+these , whom I had cured of a painful and lingering disease , was\r
+never weary of advertising my virtues and of endeavouring to send\r
+me on every sufferer over whom he might have any influence .\r
+\r
+One morning , at a little before seven o'clock , I was awakened by\r
+the maid tapping at the door to announce that two men had come\r
+from Paddington and were waiting in the consulting - room . I\r
+dressed hurriedly , for I knew by experience that railway cases\r
+were seldom trivial , and hastened downstairs . As I descended , my\r
+old ally , the guard , came out of the room and closed the door\r
+tightly behind him .\r
+\r
+" I ' ve got him here " he whispered , jerking his thumb over his\r
+shoulder ; " he's all right "\r
+\r
+" What is it , then " I asked , for his manner suggested that it was\r
+some strange creature which he had caged up in my room .\r
+\r
+" It's a new patient " he whispered . " I thought I ' d bring him\r
+round myself ; then he couldn't slip away . There he is , all safe\r
+and sound . I must go now , Doctor ; I have my dooties , just the\r
+same as you " And off he went , this trusty tout , without even\r
+giving me time to thank him .\r
+\r
+I entered my consulting - room and found a gentleman seated by the\r
+table . He was quietly dressed in a suit of heather tweed with a\r
+soft cloth cap which he had laid down upon my books . Round one of\r
+his hands he had a handkerchief wrapped , which was mottled all\r
+over with bloodstains . He was young , not more than\r
+five - and - twenty , I should say , with a strong , masculine face ; but\r
+he was exceedingly pale and gave me the impression of a man who\r
+was suffering from some strong agitation , which it took all his\r
+strength of mind to control .\r
+\r
+" I am sorry to knock you up so early , Doctor " said he , " but I\r
+have had a very serious accident during the night . I came in by\r
+train this morning , and on inquiring at Paddington as to where I\r
+might find a doctor , a worthy fellow very kindly escorted me\r
+here . I gave the maid a card , but I see that she has left it upon\r
+the side - table "\r
+\r
+I took it up and glanced at it . " Mr . Victor Hatherley , hydraulic\r
+engineer , 16A , Victoria Street ( 3rd floor ." That was the name ,\r
+style , and abode of my morning visitor . " I regret that I have\r
+kept you waiting " said I , sitting down in my library - chair . " You\r
+are fresh from a night journey , I understand , which is in itself\r
+a monotonous occupation "\r
+\r
+" Oh , my night could not be called monotonous " said he , and\r
+laughed . He laughed very heartily , with a high , ringing note ,\r
+leaning back in his chair and shaking his sides . All my medical\r
+instincts rose up against that laugh .\r
+\r
+" Stop it " I cried ; " pull yourself together " and I poured out\r
+some water from a caraffe .\r
+\r
+It was useless , however . He was off in one of those hysterical\r
+outbursts which come upon a strong nature when some great crisis\r
+is over and gone . Presently he came to himself once more , very\r
+weary and pale - looking .\r
+\r
+" I have been making a fool of myself " he gasped .\r
+\r
+" Not at all . Drink this " I dashed some brandy into the water ,\r
+and the colour began to come back to his bloodless cheeks .\r
+\r
+" That's better " said he . " And now , Doctor , perhaps you would\r
+kindly attend to my thumb , or rather to the place where my thumb\r
+used to be "\r
+\r
+He unwound the handkerchief and held out his hand . It gave even\r
+my hardened nerves a shudder to look at it . There were four\r
+protruding fingers and a horrid red , spongy surface where the\r
+thumb should have been . It had been hacked or torn right out from\r
+the roots .\r
+\r
+" Good heavens " I cried , " this is a terrible injury . It must have\r
+bled considerably "\r
+\r
+" Yes , it did . I fainted when it was done , and I think that I must\r
+have been senseless for a long time . When I came to I found that\r
+it was still bleeding , so I tied one end of my handkerchief very\r
+tightly round the wrist and braced it up with a twig "\r
+\r
+" Excellent ! You should have been a surgeon "\r
+\r
+" It is a question of hydraulics , you see , and came within my own\r
+province "\r
+\r
+" This has been done " said I , examining the wound , " by a very\r
+heavy and sharp instrument "\r
+\r
+" A thing like a cleaver " said he .\r
+\r
+" An accident , I presume "\r
+\r
+" By no means "\r
+\r
+" What ! a murderous attack "\r
+\r
+" Very murderous indeed "\r
+\r
+" You horrify me "\r
+\r
+I sponged the wound , cleaned it , dressed it , and finally covered\r
+it over with cotton wadding and carbolised bandages . He lay back\r
+without wincing , though he bit his lip from time to time .\r
+\r
+" How is that " I asked when I had finished .\r
+\r
+" Capital ! Between your brandy and your bandage , I feel a new man .\r
+I was very weak , but I have had a good deal to go through "\r
+\r
+" Perhaps you had better not speak of the matter . It is evidently\r
+trying to your nerves "\r
+\r
+" Oh , no , not now . I shall have to tell my tale to the police ;\r
+but , between ourselves , if it were not for the convincing\r
+evidence of this wound of mine , I should be surprised if they\r
+believed my statement , for it is a very extraordinary one , and I\r
+have not much in the way of proof with which to back it up ; and ,\r
+even if they believe me , the clues which I can give them are so\r
+vague that it is a question whether justice will be done "\r
+\r
+" Ha " cried I , " if it is anything in the nature of a problem\r
+which you desire to see solved , I should strongly recommend you\r
+to come to my friend , Mr . Sherlock Holmes , before you go to the\r
+official police "\r
+\r
+" Oh , I have heard of that fellow " answered my visitor , " and I\r
+should be very glad if he would take the matter up , though of\r
+course I must use the official police as well . Would you give me\r
+an introduction to him "\r
+\r
+" I ' ll do better . I ' ll take you round to him myself "\r
+\r
+" I should be immensely obliged to you "\r
+\r
+" We ' ll call a cab and go together . We shall just be in time to\r
+have a little breakfast with him . Do you feel equal to it "\r
+\r
+" Yes ; I shall not feel easy until I have told my story "\r
+\r
+" Then my servant will call a cab , and I shall be with you in an\r
+instant " I rushed upstairs , explained the matter shortly to my\r
+wife , and in five minutes was inside a hansom , driving with my\r
+new acquaintance to Baker Street .\r
+\r
+Sherlock Holmes was , as I expected , lounging about his\r
+sitting - room in his dressing - gown , reading the agony column of The\r
+Times and smoking his before - breakfast pipe , which was composed\r
+of all the plugs and dottles left from his smokes of the day\r
+before , all carefully dried and collected on the corner of the\r
+mantelpiece . He received us in his quietly genial fashion ,\r
+ordered fresh rashers and eggs , and joined us in a hearty meal .\r
+When it was concluded he settled our new acquaintance upon the\r
+sofa , placed a pillow beneath his head , and laid a glass of\r
+brandy and water within his reach .\r
+\r
+" It is easy to see that your experience has been no common one ,\r
+Mr . Hatherley " said he . " Pray , lie down there and make yourself\r
+absolutely at home . Tell us what you can , but stop when you are\r
+tired and keep up your strength with a little stimulant "\r
+\r
+" Thank you " said my patient , " but I have felt another man since\r
+the doctor bandaged me , and I think that your breakfast has\r
+completed the cure . I shall take up as little of your valuable\r
+time as possible , so I shall start at once upon my peculiar\r
+experiences "\r
+\r
+Holmes sat in his big armchair with the weary , heavy - lidded\r
+expression which veiled his keen and eager nature , while I sat\r
+opposite to him , and we listened in silence to the strange story\r
+which our visitor detailed to us .\r
+\r
+" You must know " said he , " that I am an orphan and a bachelor ,\r
+residing alone in lodgings in London . By profession I am a\r
+hydraulic engineer , and I have had considerable experience of my\r
+work during the seven years that I was apprenticed to Venner &\r
+Matheson , the well - known firm , of Greenwich . Two years ago ,\r
+having served my time , and having also come into a fair sum of\r
+money through my poor father's death , I determined to start in\r
+business for myself and took professional chambers in Victoria\r
+Street .\r
+\r
+" I suppose that everyone finds his first independent start in\r
+business a dreary experience . To me it has been exceptionally so .\r
+During two years I have had three consultations and one small\r
+job , and that is absolutely all that my profession has brought\r
+me . My gross takings amount to 27 pounds 10s . Every day , from\r
+nine in the morning until four in the afternoon , I waited in my\r
+little den , until at last my heart began to sink , and I came to\r
+believe that I should never have any practice at all .\r
+\r
+" Yesterday , however , just as I was thinking of leaving the\r
+office , my clerk entered to say there was a gentleman waiting who\r
+wished to see me upon business . He brought up a card , too , with\r
+the name of ' Colonel Lysander Stark ' engraved upon it . Close at\r
+his heels came the colonel himself , a man rather over the middle\r
+size , but of an exceeding thinness . I do not think that I have\r
+ever seen so thin a man . His whole face sharpened away into nose\r
+and chin , and the skin of his cheeks was drawn quite tense over\r
+his outstanding bones . Yet this emaciation seemed to be his\r
+natural habit , and due to no disease , for his eye was bright , his\r
+step brisk , and his bearing assured . He was plainly but neatly\r
+dressed , and his age , I should judge , would be nearer forty than\r
+thirty .\r
+\r
+ ' Mr . Hatherley ' said he , with something of a German accent .\r
+' You have been recommended to me , Mr . Hatherley , as being a man\r
+who is not only proficient in his profession but is also discreet\r
+and capable of preserving a secret '\r
+\r
+" I bowed , feeling as flattered as any young man would at such an\r
+address . ' May I ask who it was who gave me so good a character '\r
+\r
+ ' Well , perhaps it is better that I should not tell you that just\r
+at this moment . I have it from the same source that you are both\r
+an orphan and a bachelor and are residing alone in London '\r
+\r
+ ' That is quite correct ' I answered ; ' but you will excuse me if\r
+I say that I cannot see how all this bears upon my professional\r
+qualifications . I understand that it was on a professional matter\r
+that you wished to speak to me '\r
+\r
+ ' Undoubtedly so . But you will find that all I say is really to\r
+the point . I have a professional commission for you , but absolute\r
+secrecy is quite essential - absolute secrecy , you understand , and\r
+of course we may expect that more from a man who is alone than\r
+from one who lives in the bosom of his family '\r
+\r
+ ' If I promise to keep a secret ' said I , ' you may absolutely\r
+depend upon my doing so '\r
+\r
+" He looked very hard at me as I spoke , and it seemed to me that I\r
+had never seen so suspicious and questioning an eye .\r
+\r
+ ' Do you promise , then ' said he at last .\r
+\r
+ ' Yes , I promise '\r
+\r
+ ' Absolute and complete silence before , during , and after ? No\r
+reference to the matter at all , either in word or writing '\r
+\r
+ ' I have already given you my word '\r
+\r
+ ' Very good ' He suddenly sprang up , and darting like lightning\r
+across the room he flung open the door . The passage outside was\r
+empty .\r
+\r
+ ' That's all right ' said he , coming back . ' I know that clerks are\r
+sometimes curious as to their master's affairs . Now we can talk\r
+in safety ' He drew up his chair very close to mine and began to\r
+stare at me again with the same questioning and thoughtful look .\r
+\r
+" A feeling of repulsion , and of something akin to fear had begun\r
+to rise within me at the strange antics of this fleshless man .\r
+Even my dread of losing a client could not restrain me from\r
+showing my impatience .\r
+\r
+ ' I beg that you will state your business , sir ' said I ; ' my time\r
+is of value ' Heaven forgive me for that last sentence , but the\r
+words came to my lips .\r
+\r
+ ' How would fifty guineas for a night's work suit you ' he asked .\r
+\r
+ ' Most admirably '\r
+\r
+ ' I say a night's work , but an hour's would be nearer the mark . I\r
+simply want your opinion about a hydraulic stamping machine which\r
+has got out of gear . If you show us what is wrong we shall soon\r
+set it right ourselves . What do you think of such a commission as\r
+that '\r
+\r
+ ' The work appears to be light and the pay munificent '\r
+\r
+ ' Precisely so . We shall want you to come to - night by the last\r
+train '\r
+\r
+ ' Where to '\r
+\r
+ ' To Eyford , in Berkshire . It is a little place near the borders\r
+of Oxfordshire , and within seven miles of Reading . There is a\r
+train from Paddington which would bring you there at about\r
+11 : 15 '\r
+\r
+ ' Very good '\r
+\r
+ ' I shall come down in a carriage to meet you '\r
+\r
+ ' There is a drive , then '\r
+\r
+ ' Yes , our little place is quite out in the country . It is a good\r
+seven miles from Eyford Station '\r
+\r
+ ' Then we can hardly get there before midnight . I suppose there\r
+would be no chance of a train back . I should be compelled to stop\r
+the night '\r
+\r
+ ' Yes , we could easily give you a shake - down '\r
+\r
+ ' That is very awkward . Could I not come at some more convenient\r
+hour '\r
+\r
+ ' We have judged it best that you should come late . It is to\r
+recompense you for any inconvenience that we are paying to you , a\r
+young and unknown man , a fee which would buy an opinion from the\r
+very heads of your profession . Still , of course , if you would\r
+like to draw out of the business , there is plenty of time to do\r
+so '\r
+\r
+" I thought of the fifty guineas , and of how very useful they\r
+would be to me . ' Not at all ' said I , ' I shall be very happy to\r
+accommodate myself to your wishes . I should like , however , to\r
+understand a little more clearly what it is that you wish me to\r
+do '\r
+\r
+ ' Quite so . It is very natural that the pledge of secrecy which\r
+we have exacted from you should have aroused your curiosity . I\r
+have no wish to commit you to anything without your having it all\r
+laid before you . I suppose that we are absolutely safe from\r
+eavesdroppers '\r
+\r
+ ' Entirely '\r
+\r
+ ' Then the matter stands thus . You are probably aware that\r
+fuller's - earth is a valuable product , and that it is only found\r
+in one or two places in England '\r
+\r
+ ' I have heard so '\r
+\r
+ ' Some little time ago I bought a small place - a very small\r
+place - within ten miles of Reading . I was fortunate enough to\r
+discover that there was a deposit of fuller's - earth in one of my\r
+fields . On examining it , however , I found that this deposit was a\r
+comparatively small one , and that it formed a link between two\r
+very much larger ones upon the right and left - both of them ,\r
+however , in the grounds of my neighbours . These good people were\r
+absolutely ignorant that their land contained that which was\r
+quite as valuable as a gold - mine . Naturally , it was to my\r
+interest to buy their land before they discovered its true value ,\r
+but unfortunately I had no capital by which I could do this . I\r
+took a few of my friends into the secret , however , and they\r
+suggested that we should quietly and secretly work our own little\r
+deposit and that in this way we should earn the money which would\r
+enable us to buy the neighbouring fields . This we have now been\r
+doing for some time , and in order to help us in our operations we\r
+erected a hydraulic press . This press , as I have already\r
+explained , has got out of order , and we wish your advice upon the\r
+subject . We guard our secret very jealously , however , and if it\r
+once became known that we had hydraulic engineers coming to our\r
+little house , it would soon rouse inquiry , and then , if the facts\r
+came out , it would be good - bye to any chance of getting these\r
+fields and carrying out our plans . That is why I have made you\r
+promise me that you will not tell a human being that you are\r
+going to Eyford to - night . I hope that I make it all plain '\r
+\r
+ ' I quite follow you ' said I . ' The only point which I could not\r
+quite understand was what use you could make of a hydraulic press\r
+in excavating fuller's - earth , which , as I understand , is dug out\r
+like gravel from a pit '\r
+\r
+ ' Ah ' said he carelessly , ' we have our own process . We compress\r
+the earth into bricks , so as to remove them without revealing\r
+what they are . But that is a mere detail . I have taken you fully\r
+into my confidence now , Mr . Hatherley , and I have shown you how I\r
+trust you ' He rose as he spoke . ' I shall expect you , then , at\r
+Eyford at 11 : 15 '\r
+\r
+ ' I shall certainly be there '\r
+\r
+ ' And not a word to a soul ' He looked at me with a last long ,\r
+questioning gaze , and then , pressing my hand in a cold , dank\r
+grasp , he hurried from the room .\r
+\r
+" Well , when I came to think it all over in cool blood I was very\r
+much astonished , as you may both think , at this sudden commission\r
+which had been intrusted to me . On the one hand , of course , I was\r
+glad , for the fee was at least tenfold what I should have asked\r
+had I set a price upon my own services , and it was possible that\r
+this order might lead to other ones . On the other hand , the face\r
+and manner of my patron had made an unpleasant impression upon\r
+me , and I could not think that his explanation of the\r
+fuller's - earth was sufficient to explain the necessity for my\r
+coming at midnight , and his extreme anxiety lest I should tell\r
+anyone of my errand . However , I threw all fears to the winds , ate\r
+a hearty supper , drove to Paddington , and started off , having\r
+obeyed to the letter the injunction as to holding my tongue .\r
+\r
+" At Reading I had to change not only my carriage but my station .\r
+However , I was in time for the last train to Eyford , and I\r
+reached the little dim - lit station after eleven o'clock . I was the\r
+only passenger who got out there , and there was no one upon the\r
+platform save a single sleepy porter with a lantern . As I passed\r
+out through the wicket gate , however , I found my acquaintance of\r
+the morning waiting in the shadow upon the other side . Without a\r
+word he grasped my arm and hurried me into a carriage , the door\r
+of which was standing open . He drew up the windows on either\r
+side , tapped on the wood - work , and away we went as fast as the\r
+horse could go "\r
+\r
+" One horse " interjected Holmes .\r
+\r
+" Yes , only one "\r
+\r
+" Did you observe the colour "\r
+\r
+" Yes , I saw it by the side - lights when I was stepping into the\r
+carriage . It was a chestnut "\r
+\r
+" Tired - looking or fresh "\r
+\r
+" Oh , fresh and glossy "\r
+\r
+" Thank you . I am sorry to have interrupted you . Pray continue\r
+your most interesting statement "\r
+\r
+" Away we went then , and we drove for at least an hour . Colonel\r
+Lysander Stark had said that it was only seven miles , but I\r
+should think , from the rate that we seemed to go , and from the\r
+time that we took , that it must have been nearer twelve . He sat\r
+at my side in silence all the time , and I was aware , more than\r
+once when I glanced in his direction , that he was looking at me\r
+with great intensity . The country roads seem to be not very good\r
+in that part of the world , for we lurched and jolted terribly . I\r
+tried to look out of the windows to see something of where we\r
+were , but they were made of frosted glass , and I could make out\r
+nothing save the occasional bright blur of a passing light . Now\r
+and then I hazarded some remark to break the monotony of the\r
+journey , but the colonel answered only in monosyllables , and the\r
+conversation soon flagged . At last , however , the bumping of the\r
+road was exchanged for the crisp smoothness of a gravel - drive ,\r
+and the carriage came to a stand . Colonel Lysander Stark sprang\r
+out , and , as I followed after him , pulled me swiftly into a porch\r
+which gaped in front of us . We stepped , as it were , right out of\r
+the carriage and into the hall , so that I failed to catch the\r
+most fleeting glance of the front of the house . The instant that\r
+I had crossed the threshold the door slammed heavily behind us ,\r
+and I heard faintly the rattle of the wheels as the carriage\r
+drove away .\r
+\r
+" It was pitch dark inside the house , and the colonel fumbled\r
+about looking for matches and muttering under his breath .\r
+Suddenly a door opened at the other end of the passage , and a\r
+long , golden bar of light shot out in our direction . It grew\r
+broader , and a woman appeared with a lamp in her hand , which she\r
+held above her head , pushing her face forward and peering at us .\r
+I could see that she was pretty , and from the gloss with which\r
+the light shone upon her dark dress I knew that it was a rich\r
+material . She spoke a few words in a foreign tongue in a tone as\r
+though asking a question , and when my companion answered in a\r
+gruff monosyllable she gave such a start that the lamp nearly\r
+fell from her hand . Colonel Stark went up to her , whispered\r
+something in her ear , and then , pushing her back into the room\r
+from whence she had come , he walked towards me again with the\r
+lamp in his hand .\r
+\r
+ ' Perhaps you will have the kindness to wait in this room for a\r
+few minutes ' said he , throwing open another door . It was a\r
+quiet , little , plainly furnished room , with a round table in the\r
+centre , on which several German books were scattered . Colonel\r
+Stark laid down the lamp on the top of a harmonium beside the\r
+door . ' I shall not keep you waiting an instant ' said he , and\r
+vanished into the darkness .\r
+\r
+" I glanced at the books upon the table , and in spite of my\r
+ignorance of German I could see that two of them were treatises\r
+on science , the others being volumes of poetry . Then I walked\r
+across to the window , hoping that I might catch some glimpse of\r
+the country - side , but an oak shutter , heavily barred , was folded\r
+across it . It was a wonderfully silent house . There was an old\r
+clock ticking loudly somewhere in the passage , but otherwise\r
+everything was deadly still . A vague feeling of uneasiness began\r
+to steal over me . Who were these German people , and what were\r
+they doing living in this strange , out - of - the - way place ? And\r
+where was the place ? I was ten miles or so from Eyford , that was\r
+all I knew , but whether north , south , east , or west I had no\r
+idea . For that matter , Reading , and possibly other large towns ,\r
+were within that radius , so the place might not be so secluded ,\r
+after all . Yet it was quite certain , from the absolute stillness ,\r
+that we were in the country . I paced up and down the room ,\r
+humming a tune under my breath to keep up my spirits and feeling\r
+that I was thoroughly earning my fifty - guinea fee .\r
+\r
+" Suddenly , without any preliminary sound in the midst of the\r
+utter stillness , the door of my room swung slowly open . The woman\r
+was standing in the aperture , the darkness of the hall behind\r
+her , the yellow light from my lamp beating upon her eager and\r
+beautiful face . I could see at a glance that she was sick with\r
+fear , and the sight sent a chill to my own heart . She held up one\r
+shaking finger to warn me to be silent , and she shot a few\r
+whispered words of broken English at me , her eyes glancing back ,\r
+like those of a frightened horse , into the gloom behind her .\r
+\r
+ ' I would go ' said she , trying hard , as it seemed to me , to\r
+speak calmly ; ' I would go . I should not stay here . There is no\r
+good for you to do '\r
+\r
+ ' But , madam ' said I , ' I have not yet done what I came for . I\r
+cannot possibly leave until I have seen the machine '\r
+\r
+ ' It is not worth your while to wait ' she went on . ' You can pass\r
+through the door ; no one hinders ' And then , seeing that I smiled\r
+and shook my head , she suddenly threw aside her constraint and\r
+made a step forward , with her hands wrung together . ' For the love\r
+of Heaven ' she whispered , ' get away from here before it is too\r
+late '\r
+\r
+" But I am somewhat headstrong by nature , and the more ready to\r
+engage in an affair when there is some obstacle in the way . I\r
+thought of my fifty - guinea fee , of my wearisome journey , and of\r
+the unpleasant night which seemed to be before me . Was it all to\r
+go for nothing ? Why should I slink away without having carried\r
+out my commission , and without the payment which was my due ? This\r
+woman might , for all I knew , be a monomaniac . With a stout\r
+bearing , therefore , though her manner had shaken me more than I\r
+cared to confess , I still shook my head and declared my intention\r
+of remaining where I was . She was about to renew her entreaties\r
+when a door slammed overhead , and the sound of several footsteps\r
+was heard upon the stairs . She listened for an instant , threw up\r
+her hands with a despairing gesture , and vanished as suddenly and\r
+as noiselessly as she had come .\r
+\r
+" The newcomers were Colonel Lysander Stark and a short thick man\r
+with a chinchilla beard growing out of the creases of his double\r
+chin , who was introduced to me as Mr . Ferguson .\r
+\r
+ ' This is my secretary and manager ' said the colonel . ' By the\r
+way , I was under the impression that I left this door shut just\r
+now . I fear that you have felt the draught '\r
+\r
+ ' On the contrary ' said I , ' I opened the door myself because I\r
+felt the room to be a little close '\r
+\r
+" He shot one of his suspicious looks at me . ' Perhaps we had\r
+better proceed to business , then ' said he . ' Mr . Ferguson and I\r
+will take you up to see the machine '\r
+\r
+ ' I had better put my hat on , I suppose '\r
+\r
+ ' Oh , no , it is in the house '\r
+\r
+ ' What , you dig fuller's - earth in the house '\r
+\r
+ ' No , no . This is only where we compress it . But never mind that .\r
+All we wish you to do is to examine the machine and to let us\r
+know what is wrong with it '\r
+\r
+" We went upstairs together , the colonel first with the lamp , the\r
+fat manager and I behind him . It was a labyrinth of an old house ,\r
+with corridors , passages , narrow winding staircases , and little\r
+low doors , the thresholds of which were hollowed out by the\r
+generations who had crossed them . There were no carpets and no\r
+signs of any furniture above the ground floor , while the plaster\r
+was peeling off the walls , and the damp was breaking through in\r
+green , unhealthy blotches . I tried to put on as unconcerned an\r
+air as possible , but I had not forgotten the warnings of the\r
+lady , even though I disregarded them , and I kept a keen eye upon\r
+my two companions . Ferguson appeared to be a morose and silent\r
+man , but I could see from the little that he said that he was at\r
+least a fellow - countryman .\r
+\r
+" Colonel Lysander Stark stopped at last before a low door , which\r
+he unlocked . Within was a small , square room , in which the three\r
+of us could hardly get at one time . Ferguson remained outside ,\r
+and the colonel ushered me in .\r
+\r
+ ' We are now ' said he , ' actually within the hydraulic press , and\r
+it would be a particularly unpleasant thing for us if anyone were\r
+to turn it on . The ceiling of this small chamber is really the\r
+end of the descending piston , and it comes down with the force of\r
+many tons upon this metal floor . There are small lateral columns\r
+of water outside which receive the force , and which transmit and\r
+multiply it in the manner which is familiar to you . The machine\r
+goes readily enough , but there is some stiffness in the working\r
+of it , and it has lost a little of its force . Perhaps you will\r
+have the goodness to look it over and to show us how we can set\r
+it right '\r
+\r
+" I took the lamp from him , and I examined the machine very\r
+thoroughly . It was indeed a gigantic one , and capable of\r
+exercising enormous pressure . When I passed outside , however , and\r
+pressed down the levers which controlled it , I knew at once by\r
+the whishing sound that there was a slight leakage , which allowed\r
+a regurgitation of water through one of the side cylinders . An\r
+examination showed that one of the india - rubber bands which was\r
+round the head of a driving - rod had shrunk so as not quite to\r
+fill the socket along which it worked . This was clearly the cause\r
+of the loss of power , and I pointed it out to my companions , who\r
+followed my remarks very carefully and asked several practical\r
+questions as to how they should proceed to set it right . When I\r
+had made it clear to them , I returned to the main chamber of the\r
+machine and took a good look at it to satisfy my own curiosity .\r
+It was obvious at a glance that the story of the fuller's - earth\r
+was the merest fabrication , for it would be absurd to suppose\r
+that so powerful an engine could be designed for so inadequate a\r
+purpose . The walls were of wood , but the floor consisted of a\r
+large iron trough , and when I came to examine it I could see a\r
+crust of metallic deposit all over it . I had stooped and was\r
+scraping at this to see exactly what it was when I heard a\r
+muttered exclamation in German and saw the cadaverous face of the\r
+colonel looking down at me .\r
+\r
+ ' What are you doing there ' he asked .\r
+\r
+" I felt angry at having been tricked by so elaborate a story as\r
+that which he had told me . ' I was admiring your fuller's - earth '\r
+said I ; ' I think that I should be better able to advise you as to\r
+your machine if I knew what the exact purpose was for which it\r
+was used '\r
+\r
+" The instant that I uttered the words I regretted the rashness of\r
+my speech . His face set hard , and a baleful light sprang up in\r
+his grey eyes .\r
+\r
+ ' Very well ' said he , ' you shall know all about the machine ' He\r
+took a step backward , slammed the little door , and turned the key\r
+in the lock . I rushed towards it and pulled at the handle , but it\r
+was quite secure , and did not give in the least to my kicks and\r
+shoves . ' Hullo ' I yelled . ' Hullo ! Colonel ! Let me out '\r
+\r
+" And then suddenly in the silence I heard a sound which sent my\r
+heart into my mouth . It was the clank of the levers and the swish\r
+of the leaking cylinder . He had set the engine at work . The lamp\r
+still stood upon the floor where I had placed it when examining\r
+the trough . By its light I saw that the black ceiling was coming\r
+down upon me , slowly , jerkily , but , as none knew better than\r
+myself , with a force which must within a minute grind me to a\r
+shapeless pulp . I threw myself , screaming , against the door , and\r
+dragged with my nails at the lock . I implored the colonel to let\r
+me out , but the remorseless clanking of the levers drowned my\r
+cries . The ceiling was only a foot or two above my head , and with\r
+my hand upraised I could feel its hard , rough surface . Then it\r
+flashed through my mind that the pain of my death would depend\r
+very much upon the position in which I met it . If I lay on my\r
+face the weight would come upon my spine , and I shuddered to\r
+think of that dreadful snap . Easier the other way , perhaps ; and\r
+yet , had I the nerve to lie and look up at that deadly black\r
+shadow wavering down upon me ? Already I was unable to stand\r
+erect , when my eye caught something which brought a gush of hope\r
+back to my heart .\r
+\r
+" I have said that though the floor and ceiling were of iron , the\r
+walls were of wood . As I gave a last hurried glance around , I saw\r
+a thin line of yellow light between two of the boards , which\r
+broadened and broadened as a small panel was pushed backward . For\r
+an instant I could hardly believe that here was indeed a door\r
+which led away from death . The next instant I threw myself\r
+through , and lay half - fainting upon the other side . The panel had\r
+closed again behind me , but the crash of the lamp , and a few\r
+moments afterwards the clang of the two slabs of metal , told me\r
+how narrow had been my escape .\r
+\r
+" I was recalled to myself by a frantic plucking at my wrist , and\r
+I found myself lying upon the stone floor of a narrow corridor ,\r
+while a woman bent over me and tugged at me with her left hand ,\r
+while she held a candle in her right . It was the same good friend\r
+whose warning I had so foolishly rejected .\r
+\r
+ ' Come ! come ' she cried breathlessly . ' They will be here in a\r
+moment . They will see that you are not there . Oh , do not waste\r
+the so - precious time , but come '\r
+\r
+" This time , at least , I did not scorn her advice . I staggered to\r
+my feet and ran with her along the corridor and down a winding\r
+stair . The latter led to another broad passage , and just as we\r
+reached it we heard the sound of running feet and the shouting of\r
+two voices , one answering the other from the floor on which we\r
+were and from the one beneath . My guide stopped and looked about\r
+her like one who is at her wit's end . Then she threw open a door\r
+which led into a bedroom , through the window of which the moon\r
+was shining brightly .\r
+\r
+ ' It is your only chance ' said she . ' It is high , but it may be\r
+that you can jump it '\r
+\r
+" As she spoke a light sprang into view at the further end of the\r
+passage , and I saw the lean figure of Colonel Lysander Stark\r
+rushing forward with a lantern in one hand and a weapon like a\r
+butcher's cleaver in the other . I rushed across the bedroom ,\r
+flung open the window , and looked out . How quiet and sweet and\r
+wholesome the garden looked in the moonlight , and it could not be\r
+more than thirty feet down . I clambered out upon the sill , but I\r
+hesitated to jump until I should have heard what passed between\r
+my saviour and the ruffian who pursued me . If she were ill - used ,\r
+then at any risks I was determined to go back to her assistance .\r
+The thought had hardly flashed through my mind before he was at\r
+the door , pushing his way past her ; but she threw her arms round\r
+him and tried to hold him back .\r
+\r
+ ' Fritz ! Fritz ' she cried in English , ' remember your promise\r
+after the last time . You said it should not be again . He will be\r
+silent ! Oh , he will be silent '\r
+\r
+ ' You are mad , Elise ' he shouted , struggling to break away from\r
+her . ' You will be the ruin of us . He has seen too much . Let me\r
+pass , I say ' He dashed her to one side , and , rushing to the\r
+window , cut at me with his heavy weapon . I had let myself go , and\r
+was hanging by the hands to the sill , when his blow fell . I was\r
+conscious of a dull pain , my grip loosened , and I fell into the\r
+garden below .\r
+\r
+" I was shaken but not hurt by the fall ; so I picked myself up and\r
+rushed off among the bushes as hard as I could run , for I\r
+understood that I was far from being out of danger yet . Suddenly ,\r
+however , as I ran , a deadly dizziness and sickness came over me .\r
+I glanced down at my hand , which was throbbing painfully , and\r
+then , for the first time , saw that my thumb had been cut off and\r
+that the blood was pouring from my wound . I endeavoured to tie my\r
+handkerchief round it , but there came a sudden buzzing in my\r
+ears , and next moment I fell in a dead faint among the\r
+rose - bushes .\r
+\r
+" How long I remained unconscious I cannot tell . It must have been\r
+a very long time , for the moon had sunk , and a bright morning was\r
+breaking when I came to myself . My clothes were all sodden with\r
+dew , and my coat - sleeve was drenched with blood from my wounded\r
+thumb . The smarting of it recalled in an instant all the\r
+particulars of my night's adventure , and I sprang to my feet with\r
+the feeling that I might hardly yet be safe from my pursuers . But\r
+to my astonishment , when I came to look round me , neither house\r
+nor garden were to be seen . I had been lying in an angle of the\r
+hedge close by the highroad , and just a little lower down was a\r
+long building , which proved , upon my approaching it , to be the\r
+very station at which I had arrived upon the previous night . Were\r
+it not for the ugly wound upon my hand , all that had passed\r
+during those dreadful hours might have been an evil dream .\r
+\r
+" Half dazed , I went into the station and asked about the morning\r
+train . There would be one to Reading in less than an hour . The\r
+same porter was on duty , I found , as had been there when I\r
+arrived . I inquired of him whether he had ever heard of Colonel\r
+Lysander Stark . The name was strange to him . Had he observed a\r
+carriage the night before waiting for me ? No , he had not . Was\r
+there a police - station anywhere near ? There was one about three\r
+miles off .\r
+\r
+" It was too far for me to go , weak and ill as I was . I determined\r
+to wait until I got back to town before telling my story to the\r
+police . It was a little past six when I arrived , so I went first\r
+to have my wound dressed , and then the doctor was kind enough to\r
+bring me along here . I put the case into your hands and shall do\r
+exactly what you advise "\r
+\r
+We both sat in silence for some little time after listening to\r
+this extraordinary narrative . Then Sherlock Holmes pulled down\r
+from the shelf one of the ponderous commonplace books in which he\r
+placed his cuttings .\r
+\r
+" Here is an advertisement which will interest you " said he . " It\r
+appeared in all the papers about a year ago . Listen to this :\r
+' Lost , on the 9th inst , Mr . Jeremiah Hayling , aged\r
+twenty - six , a hydraulic engineer . Left his lodgings at ten\r
+o'clock at night , and has not been heard of since . Was\r
+dressed in ' etc , etc . Ha ! That represents the last time that\r
+the colonel needed to have his machine overhauled , I fancy "\r
+\r
+" Good heavens " cried my patient . " Then that explains what the\r
+girl said "\r
+\r
+" Undoubtedly . It is quite clear that the colonel was a cool and\r
+desperate man , who was absolutely determined that nothing should\r
+stand in the way of his little game , like those out - and - out\r
+pirates who will leave no survivor from a captured ship . Well ,\r
+every moment now is precious , so if you feel equal to it we shall\r
+go down to Scotland Yard at once as a preliminary to starting for\r
+Eyford "\r
+\r
+Some three hours or so afterwards we were all in the train\r
+together , bound from Reading to the little Berkshire village .\r
+There were Sherlock Holmes , the hydraulic engineer , Inspector\r
+Bradstreet , of Scotland Yard , a plain - clothes man , and myself .\r
+Bradstreet had spread an ordnance map of the county out upon the\r
+seat and was busy with his compasses drawing a circle with Eyford\r
+for its centre .\r
+\r
+" There you are " said he . " That circle is drawn at a radius of\r
+ten miles from the village . The place we want must be somewhere\r
+near that line . You said ten miles , I think , sir "\r
+\r
+" It was an hour's good drive "\r
+\r
+" And you think that they brought you back all that way when you\r
+were unconscious "\r
+\r
+" They must have done so . I have a confused memory , too , of having\r
+been lifted and conveyed somewhere "\r
+\r
+" What I cannot understand " said I , " is why they should have\r
+spared you when they found you lying fainting in the garden .\r
+Perhaps the villain was softened by the woman's entreaties "\r
+\r
+" I hardly think that likely . I never saw a more inexorable face\r
+in my life "\r
+\r
+" Oh , we shall soon clear up all that " said Bradstreet . " Well , I\r
+have drawn my circle , and I only wish I knew at what point upon\r
+it the folk that we are in search of are to be found "\r
+\r
+" I think I could lay my finger on it " said Holmes quietly .\r
+\r
+" Really , now " cried the inspector , " you have formed your\r
+opinion ! Come , now , we shall see who agrees with you . I say it is\r
+south , for the country is more deserted there "\r
+\r
+" And I say east " said my patient .\r
+\r
+" I am for west " remarked the plain - clothes man . " There are\r
+several quiet little villages up there "\r
+\r
+" And I am for north " said I , " because there are no hills there ,\r
+and our friend says that he did not notice the carriage go up\r
+any "\r
+\r
+" Come " cried the inspector , laughing ; " it's a very pretty\r
+diversity of opinion . We have boxed the compass among us . Who do\r
+you give your casting vote to "\r
+\r
+" You are all wrong "\r
+\r
+" But we can't all be "\r
+\r
+" Oh , yes , you can . This is my point " He placed his finger in the\r
+centre of the circle . " This is where we shall find them "\r
+\r
+" But the twelve - mile drive " gasped Hatherley .\r
+\r
+" Six out and six back . Nothing simpler . You say yourself that the\r
+horse was fresh and glossy when you got in . How could it be that\r
+if it had gone twelve miles over heavy roads "\r
+\r
+" Indeed , it is a likely ruse enough " observed Bradstreet\r
+thoughtfully . " Of course there can be no doubt as to the nature\r
+of this gang "\r
+\r
+" None at all " said Holmes . " They are coiners on a large scale ,\r
+and have used the machine to form the amalgam which has taken the\r
+place of silver "\r
+\r
+" We have known for some time that a clever gang was at work "\r
+said the inspector . " They have been turning out half - crowns by\r
+the thousand . We even traced them as far as Reading , but could\r
+get no farther , for they had covered their traces in a way that\r
+showed that they were very old hands . But now , thanks to this\r
+lucky chance , I think that we have got them right enough "\r
+\r
+But the inspector was mistaken , for those criminals were not\r
+destined to fall into the hands of justice . As we rolled into\r
+Eyford Station we saw a gigantic column of smoke which streamed\r
+up from behind a small clump of trees in the neighbourhood and\r
+hung like an immense ostrich feather over the landscape .\r
+\r
+" A house on fire " asked Bradstreet as the train steamed off\r
+again on its way .\r
+\r
+" Yes , sir " said the station - master .\r
+\r
+" When did it break out "\r
+\r
+" I hear that it was during the night , sir , but it has got worse ,\r
+and the whole place is in a blaze "\r
+\r
+" Whose house is it "\r
+\r
+" Dr . Becher's "\r
+\r
+" Tell me " broke in the engineer , " is Dr . Becher a German , very\r
+thin , with a long , sharp nose "\r
+\r
+The station - master laughed heartily . " No , sir , Dr . Becher is an\r
+Englishman , and there isn't a man in the parish who has a\r
+better - lined waistcoat . But he has a gentleman staying with him ,\r
+a patient , as I understand , who is a foreigner , and he looks as\r
+if a little good Berkshire beef would do him no harm "\r
+\r
+The station - master had not finished his speech before we were all\r
+hastening in the direction of the fire . The road topped a low\r
+hill , and there was a great widespread whitewashed building in\r
+front of us , spouting fire at every chink and window , while in\r
+the garden in front three fire - engines were vainly striving to\r
+keep the flames under .\r
+\r
+" That's it " cried Hatherley , in intense excitement . " There is\r
+the gravel - drive , and there are the rose - bushes where I lay . That\r
+second window is the one that I jumped from "\r
+\r
+" Well , at least " said Holmes , " you have had your revenge upon\r
+them . There can be no question that it was your oil - lamp which ,\r
+when it was crushed in the press , set fire to the wooden walls ,\r
+though no doubt they were too excited in the chase after you to\r
+observe it at the time . Now keep your eyes open in this crowd for\r
+your friends of last night , though I very much fear that they are\r
+a good hundred miles off by now "\r
+\r
+And Holmes ' fears came to be realised , for from that day to this\r
+no word has ever been heard either of the beautiful woman , the\r
+sinister German , or the morose Englishman . Early that morning a\r
+peasant had met a cart containing several people and some very\r
+bulky boxes driving rapidly in the direction of Reading , but\r
+there all traces of the fugitives disappeared , and even Holmes '\r
+ingenuity failed ever to discover the least clue as to their\r
+whereabouts .\r
+\r
+The firemen had been much perturbed at the strange arrangements\r
+which they had found within , and still more so by discovering a\r
+newly severed human thumb upon a window - sill of the second floor .\r
+About sunset , however , their efforts were at last successful , and\r
+they subdued the flames , but not before the roof had fallen in ,\r
+and the whole place been reduced to such absolute ruin that , save\r
+some twisted cylinders and iron piping , not a trace remained of\r
+the machinery which had cost our unfortunate acquaintance so\r
+dearly . Large masses of nickel and of tin were discovered stored\r
+in an out - house , but no coins were to be found , which may have\r
+explained the presence of those bulky boxes which have been\r
+already referred to .\r
+\r
+How our hydraulic engineer had been conveyed from the garden to\r
+the spot where he recovered his senses might have remained\r
+forever a mystery were it not for the soft mould , which told us a\r
+very plain tale . He had evidently been carried down by two\r
+persons , one of whom had remarkably small feet and the other\r
+unusually large ones . On the whole , it was most probable that the\r
+silent Englishman , being less bold or less murderous than his\r
+companion , had assisted the woman to bear the unconscious man out\r
+of the way of danger .\r
+\r
+" Well " said our engineer ruefully as we took our seats to return\r
+once more to London , " it has been a pretty business for me ! I\r
+have lost my thumb and I have lost a fifty - guinea fee , and what\r
+have I gained "\r
+\r
+" Experience " said Holmes , laughing . " Indirectly it may be of\r
+value , you know ; you have only to put it into words to gain the\r
+reputation of being excellent company for the remainder of your\r
+existence "\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+X . THE ADVENTURE OF THE NOBLE BACHELOR\r
+\r
+The Lord St . Simon marriage , and its curious termination , have\r
+long ceased to be a subject of interest in those exalted circles\r
+in which the unfortunate bridegroom moves . Fresh scandals have\r
+eclipsed it , and their more piquant details have drawn the\r
+gossips away from this four - year - old drama . As I have reason to\r
+believe , however , that the full facts have never been revealed to\r
+the general public , and as my friend Sherlock Holmes had a\r
+considerable share in clearing the matter up , I feel that no\r
+memoir of him would be complete without some little sketch of\r
+this remarkable episode .\r
+\r
+It was a few weeks before my own marriage , during the days when I\r
+was still sharing rooms with Holmes in Baker Street , that he came\r
+home from an afternoon stroll to find a letter on the table\r
+waiting for him . I had remained indoors all day , for the weather\r
+had taken a sudden turn to rain , with high autumnal winds , and\r
+the Jezail bullet which I had brought back in one of my limbs as\r
+a relic of my Afghan campaign throbbed with dull persistence .\r
+With my body in one easy - chair and my legs upon another , I had\r
+surrounded myself with a cloud of newspapers until at last ,\r
+saturated with the news of the day , I tossed them all aside and\r
+lay listless , watching the huge crest and monogram upon the\r
+envelope upon the table and wondering lazily who my friend's\r
+noble correspondent could be .\r
+\r
+" Here is a very fashionable epistle " I remarked as he entered .\r
+" Your morning letters , if I remember right , were from a\r
+fish - monger and a tide - waiter "\r
+\r
+" Yes , my correspondence has certainly the charm of variety " he\r
+answered , smiling , " and the humbler are usually the more\r
+interesting . This looks like one of those unwelcome social\r
+summonses which call upon a man either to be bored or to lie "\r
+\r
+He broke the seal and glanced over the contents .\r
+\r
+" Oh , come , it may prove to be something of interest , after all "\r
+\r
+" Not social , then "\r
+\r
+" No , distinctly professional "\r
+\r
+" And from a noble client "\r
+\r
+" One of the highest in England "\r
+\r
+" My dear fellow , I congratulate you "\r
+\r
+" I assure you , Watson , without affectation , that the status of my\r
+client is a matter of less moment to me than the interest of his\r
+case . It is just possible , however , that that also may not be\r
+wanting in this new investigation . You have been reading the\r
+papers diligently of late , have you not "\r
+\r
+" It looks like it " said I ruefully , pointing to a huge bundle in\r
+the corner . " I have had nothing else to do "\r
+\r
+" It is fortunate , for you will perhaps be able to post me up . I\r
+read nothing except the criminal news and the agony column . The\r
+latter is always instructive . But if you have followed recent\r
+events so closely you must have read about Lord St . Simon and his\r
+wedding "\r
+\r
+" Oh , yes , with the deepest interest "\r
+\r
+" That is well . The letter which I hold in my hand is from Lord\r
+St . Simon . I will read it to you , and in return you must turn\r
+over these papers and let me have whatever bears upon the matter .\r
+This is what he says :\r
+\r
+ ' MY DEAR MR . SHERLOCK HOLMES -- Lord Backwater tells me that I\r
+may place implicit reliance upon your judgment and discretion . I\r
+have determined , therefore , to call upon you and to consult you\r
+in reference to the very painful event which has occurred in\r
+connection with my wedding . Mr . Lestrade , of Scotland Yard , is\r
+acting already in the matter , but he assures me that he sees no\r
+objection to your co - operation , and that he even thinks that\r
+it might be of some assistance . I will call at four o'clock in\r
+the afternoon , and , should you have any other engagement at that\r
+time , I hope that you will postpone it , as this matter is of\r
+paramount importance . Yours faithfully , ST . SIMON '\r
+\r
+" It is dated from Grosvenor Mansions , written with a quill pen ,\r
+and the noble lord has had the misfortune to get a smear of ink\r
+upon the outer side of his right little finger " remarked Holmes\r
+as he folded up the epistle .\r
+\r
+" He says four o'clock . It is three now . He will be here in an\r
+hour "\r
+\r
+" Then I have just time , with your assistance , to get clear upon\r
+the subject . Turn over those papers and arrange the extracts in\r
+their order of time , while I take a glance as to who our client\r
+is " He picked a red - covered volume from a line of books of\r
+reference beside the mantelpiece . " Here he is " said he , sitting\r
+down and flattening it out upon his knee . " ' Lord Robert Walsingham\r
+de Vere St . Simon , second son of the Duke of Balmoral ' Hum ! ' Arms :\r
+Azure , three caltrops in chief over a fess sable . Born in 1846 '\r
+He's forty - one years of age , which is mature for marriage . Was\r
+Under - Secretary for the colonies in a late administration . The\r
+Duke , his father , was at one time Secretary for Foreign Affairs .\r
+They inherit Plantagenet blood by direct descent , and Tudor on\r
+the distaff side . Ha ! Well , there is nothing very instructive in\r
+all this . I think that I must turn to you Watson , for something\r
+more solid "\r
+\r
+" I have very little difficulty in finding what I want " said I ,\r
+" for the facts are quite recent , and the matter struck me as\r
+remarkable . I feared to refer them to you , however , as I knew\r
+that you had an inquiry on hand and that you disliked the\r
+intrusion of other matters "\r
+\r
+" Oh , you mean the little problem of the Grosvenor Square\r
+furniture van . That is quite cleared up now - though , indeed , it\r
+was obvious from the first . Pray give me the results of your\r
+newspaper selections "\r
+\r
+" Here is the first notice which I can find . It is in the personal\r
+column of the Morning Post , and dates , as you see , some weeks\r
+back : ' A marriage has been arranged ' it says , ' and will , if\r
+rumour is correct , very shortly take place , between Lord Robert\r
+St . Simon , second son of the Duke of Balmoral , and Miss Hatty\r
+Doran , the only daughter of Aloysius Doran . Esq , of San\r
+Francisco , Cal , U . S . A ' That is all "\r
+\r
+" Terse and to the point " remarked Holmes , stretching his long ,\r
+thin legs towards the fire .\r
+\r
+" There was a paragraph amplifying this in one of the society\r
+papers of the same week . Ah , here it is : ' There will soon be a\r
+call for protection in the marriage market , for the present\r
+free - trade principle appears to tell heavily against our home\r
+product . One by one the management of the noble houses of Great\r
+Britain is passing into the hands of our fair cousins from across\r
+the Atlantic . An important addition has been made during the last\r
+week to the list of the prizes which have been borne away by\r
+these charming invaders . Lord St . Simon , who has shown himself\r
+for over twenty years proof against the little god's arrows , has\r
+now definitely announced his approaching marriage with Miss Hatty\r
+Doran , the fascinating daughter of a California millionaire . Miss\r
+Doran , whose graceful figure and striking face attracted much\r
+attention at the Westbury House festivities , is an only child ,\r
+and it is currently reported that her dowry will run to\r
+considerably over the six figures , with expectancies for the\r
+future . As it is an open secret that the Duke of Balmoral has\r
+been compelled to sell his pictures within the last few years ,\r
+and as Lord St . Simon has no property of his own save the small\r
+estate of Birchmoor , it is obvious that the Californian heiress\r
+is not the only gainer by an alliance which will enable her to\r
+make the easy and common transition from a Republican lady to a\r
+British peeress '"\r
+\r
+" Anything else " asked Holmes , yawning .\r
+\r
+" Oh , yes ; plenty . Then there is another note in the Morning Post\r
+to say that the marriage would be an absolutely quiet one , that it\r
+would be at St . George's , Hanover Square , that only half a dozen\r
+intimate friends would be invited , and that the party would\r
+return to the furnished house at Lancaster Gate which has been\r
+taken by Mr . Aloysius Doran . Two days later - that is , on\r
+Wednesday last - there is a curt announcement that the wedding had\r
+taken place , and that the honeymoon would be passed at Lord\r
+Backwater's place , near Petersfield . Those are all the notices\r
+which appeared before the disappearance of the bride "\r
+\r
+" Before the what " asked Holmes with a start .\r
+\r
+" The vanishing of the lady "\r
+\r
+" When did she vanish , then "\r
+\r
+" At the wedding breakfast "\r
+\r
+" Indeed . This is more interesting than it promised to be ; quite\r
+dramatic , in fact "\r
+\r
+" Yes ; it struck me as being a little out of the common "\r
+\r
+" They often vanish before the ceremony , and occasionally during\r
+the honeymoon ; but I cannot call to mind anything quite so prompt\r
+as this . Pray let me have the details "\r
+\r
+" I warn you that they are very incomplete "\r
+\r
+" Perhaps we may make them less so "\r
+\r
+" Such as they are , they are set forth in a single article of a\r
+morning paper of yesterday , which I will read to you . It is\r
+headed , ' Singular Occurrence at a Fashionable Wedding :\r
+\r
+ ' The family of Lord Robert St . Simon has been thrown into the\r
+greatest consternation by the strange and painful episodes which\r
+have taken place in connection with his wedding . The ceremony , as\r
+shortly announced in the papers of yesterday , occurred on the\r
+previous morning ; but it is only now that it has been possible to\r
+confirm the strange rumours which have been so persistently\r
+floating about . In spite of the attempts of the friends to hush\r
+the matter up , so much public attention has now been drawn to it\r
+that no good purpose can be served by affecting to disregard what\r
+is a common subject for conversation .\r
+\r
+ ' The ceremony , which was performed at St . George's , Hanover\r
+Square , was a very quiet one , no one being present save the\r
+father of the bride , Mr . Aloysius Doran , the Duchess of Balmoral ,\r
+Lord Backwater , Lord Eustace and Lady Clara St . Simon ( the\r
+younger brother and sister of the bridegroom , and Lady Alicia\r
+Whittington . The whole party proceeded afterwards to the house of\r
+Mr . Aloysius Doran , at Lancaster Gate , where breakfast had been\r
+prepared . It appears that some little trouble was caused by a\r
+woman , whose name has not been ascertained , who endeavoured to\r
+force her way into the house after the bridal party , alleging\r
+that she had some claim upon Lord St . Simon . It was only after a\r
+painful and prolonged scene that she was ejected by the butler\r
+and the footman . The bride , who had fortunately entered the house\r
+before this unpleasant interruption , had sat down to breakfast\r
+with the rest , when she complained of a sudden indisposition and\r
+retired to her room . Her prolonged absence having caused some\r
+comment , her father followed her , but learned from her maid that\r
+she had only come up to her chamber for an instant , caught up an\r
+ulster and bonnet , and hurried down to the passage . One of the\r
+footmen declared that he had seen a lady leave the house thus\r
+apparelled , but had refused to credit that it was his mistress ,\r
+believing her to be with the company . On ascertaining that his\r
+daughter had disappeared , Mr . Aloysius Doran , in conjunction with\r
+the bridegroom , instantly put themselves in communication with\r
+the police , and very energetic inquiries are being made , which\r
+will probably result in a speedy clearing up of this very\r
+singular business . Up to a late hour last night , however , nothing\r
+had transpired as to the whereabouts of the missing lady . There\r
+are rumours of foul play in the matter , and it is said that the\r
+police have caused the arrest of the woman who had caused the\r
+original disturbance , in the belief that , from jealousy or some\r
+other motive , she may have been concerned in the strange\r
+disappearance of the bride '"\r
+\r
+" And is that all "\r
+\r
+" Only one little item in another of the morning papers , but it is\r
+a suggestive one "\r
+\r
+" And it is -"\r
+\r
+" That Miss Flora Millar , the lady who had caused the disturbance ,\r
+has actually been arrested . It appears that she was formerly a\r
+danseuse at the Allegro , and that she has known the bridegroom\r
+for some years . There are no further particulars , and the whole\r
+case is in your hands now - so far as it has been set forth in the\r
+public press "\r
+\r
+" And an exceedingly interesting case it appears to be . I would\r
+not have missed it for worlds . But there is a ring at the bell ,\r
+Watson , and as the clock makes it a few minutes after four , I\r
+have no doubt that this will prove to be our noble client . Do not\r
+dream of going , Watson , for I very much prefer having a witness ,\r
+if only as a check to my own memory "\r
+\r
+" Lord Robert St . Simon " announced our page - boy , throwing open\r
+the door . A gentleman entered , with a pleasant , cultured face ,\r
+high - nosed and pale , with something perhaps of petulance about\r
+the mouth , and with the steady , well - opened eye of a man whose\r
+pleasant lot it had ever been to command and to be obeyed . His\r
+manner was brisk , and yet his general appearance gave an undue\r
+impression of age , for he had a slight forward stoop and a little\r
+bend of the knees as he walked . His hair , too , as he swept off\r
+his very curly - brimmed hat , was grizzled round the edges and thin\r
+upon the top . As to his dress , it was careful to the verge of\r
+foppishness , with high collar , black frock - coat , white waistcoat ,\r
+yellow gloves , patent - leather shoes , and light - coloured gaiters .\r
+He advanced slowly into the room , turning his head from left to\r
+right , and swinging in his right hand the cord which held his\r
+golden eyeglasses .\r
+\r
+" Good - day , Lord St . Simon " said Holmes , rising and bowing . " Pray\r
+take the basket - chair . This is my friend and colleague , Dr .\r
+Watson . Draw up a little to the fire , and we will talk this\r
+matter over "\r
+\r
+" A most painful matter to me , as you can most readily imagine ,\r
+Mr . Holmes . I have been cut to the quick . I understand that you\r
+have already managed several delicate cases of this sort , sir ,\r
+though I presume that they were hardly from the same class of\r
+society "\r
+\r
+" No , I am descending "\r
+\r
+" I beg pardon "\r
+\r
+" My last client of the sort was a king "\r
+\r
+" Oh , really ! I had no idea . And which king "\r
+\r
+" The King of Scandinavia "\r
+\r
+" What ! Had he lost his wife "\r
+\r
+" You can understand " said Holmes suavely , " that I extend to the\r
+affairs of my other clients the same secrecy which I promise to\r
+you in yours "\r
+\r
+" Of course ! Very right ! very right ! I ' m sure I beg pardon . As to\r
+my own case , I am ready to give you any information which may\r
+assist you in forming an opinion "\r
+\r
+" Thank you . I have already learned all that is in the public\r
+prints , nothing more . I presume that I may take it as correct - this\r
+article , for example , as to the disappearance of the bride "\r
+\r
+Lord St . Simon glanced over it . " Yes , it is correct , as far as it\r
+goes "\r
+\r
+" But it needs a great deal of supplementing before anyone could\r
+offer an opinion . I think that I may arrive at my facts most\r
+directly by questioning you "\r
+\r
+" Pray do so "\r
+\r
+" When did you first meet Miss Hatty Doran "\r
+\r
+" In San Francisco , a year ago "\r
+\r
+" You were travelling in the States "\r
+\r
+" Yes "\r
+\r
+" Did you become engaged then "\r
+\r
+" No "\r
+\r
+" But you were on a friendly footing "\r
+\r
+" I was amused by her society , and she could see that I was\r
+amused "\r
+\r
+" Her father is very rich "\r
+\r
+" He is said to be the richest man on the Pacific slope "\r
+\r
+" And how did he make his money "\r
+\r
+" In mining . He had nothing a few years ago . Then he struck gold ,\r
+invested it , and came up by leaps and bounds "\r
+\r
+" Now , what is your own impression as to the young lady's - your\r
+wife's character "\r
+\r
+The nobleman swung his glasses a little faster and stared down\r
+into the fire . " You see , Mr . Holmes " said he , " my wife was\r
+twenty before her father became a rich man . During that time she\r
+ran free in a mining camp and wandered through woods or\r
+mountains , so that her education has come from Nature rather than\r
+from the schoolmaster . She is what we call in England a tomboy ,\r
+with a strong nature , wild and free , unfettered by any sort of\r
+traditions . She is impetuous - volcanic , I was about to say . She\r
+is swift in making up her mind and fearless in carrying out her\r
+resolutions . On the other hand , I would not have given her the\r
+name which I have the honour to bear -- he gave a little stately\r
+cough -" had not I thought her to be at bottom a noble woman . I\r
+believe that she is capable of heroic self - sacrifice and that\r
+anything dishonourable would be repugnant to her "\r
+\r
+" Have you her photograph "\r
+\r
+" I brought this with me " He opened a locket and showed us the\r
+full face of a very lovely woman . It was not a photograph but an\r
+ivory miniature , and the artist had brought out the full effect\r
+of the lustrous black hair , the large dark eyes , and the\r
+exquisite mouth . Holmes gazed long and earnestly at it . Then he\r
+closed the locket and handed it back to Lord St . Simon .\r
+\r
+" The young lady came to London , then , and you renewed your\r
+acquaintance "\r
+\r
+" Yes , her father brought her over for this last London season . I\r
+met her several times , became engaged to her , and have now\r
+married her "\r
+\r
+" She brought , I understand , a considerable dowry "\r
+\r
+" A fair dowry . Not more than is usual in my family "\r
+\r
+" And this , of course , remains to you , since the marriage is a\r
+fait accompli "\r
+\r
+" I really have made no inquiries on the subject "\r
+\r
+" Very naturally not . Did you see Miss Doran on the day before the\r
+wedding "\r
+\r
+" Yes "\r
+\r
+" Was she in good spirits "\r
+\r
+" Never better . She kept talking of what we should do in our\r
+future lives "\r
+\r
+" Indeed ! That is very interesting . And on the morning of the\r
+wedding "\r
+\r
+" She was as bright as possible - at least until after the\r
+ceremony "\r
+\r
+" And did you observe any change in her then "\r
+\r
+" Well , to tell the truth , I saw then the first signs that I had\r
+ever seen that her temper was just a little sharp . The incident\r
+however , was too trivial to relate and can have no possible\r
+bearing upon the case "\r
+\r
+" Pray let us have it , for all that "\r
+\r
+" Oh , it is childish . She dropped her bouquet as we went towards\r
+the vestry . She was passing the front pew at the time , and it\r
+fell over into the pew . There was a moment's delay , but the\r
+gentleman in the pew handed it up to her again , and it did not\r
+appear to be the worse for the fall . Yet when I spoke to her of\r
+the matter , she answered me abruptly ; and in the carriage , on our\r
+way home , she seemed absurdly agitated over this trifling cause "\r
+\r
+" Indeed ! You say that there was a gentleman in the pew . Some of\r
+the general public were present , then "\r
+\r
+" Oh , yes . It is impossible to exclude them when the church is\r
+open "\r
+\r
+" This gentleman was not one of your wife's friends "\r
+\r
+" No , no ; I call him a gentleman by courtesy , but he was quite a\r
+common - looking person . I hardly noticed his appearance . But\r
+really I think that we are wandering rather far from the point "\r
+\r
+" Lady St . Simon , then , returned from the wedding in a less\r
+cheerful frame of mind than she had gone to it . What did she do\r
+on re - entering her father's house "\r
+\r
+" I saw her in conversation with her maid "\r
+\r
+" And who is her maid "\r
+\r
+" Alice is her name . She is an American and came from California\r
+with her "\r
+\r
+" A confidential servant "\r
+\r
+" A little too much so . It seemed to me that her mistress allowed\r
+her to take great liberties . Still , of course , in America they\r
+look upon these things in a different way "\r
+\r
+" How long did she speak to this Alice "\r
+\r
+" Oh , a few minutes . I had something else to think of "\r
+\r
+" You did not overhear what they said "\r
+\r
+" Lady St . Simon said something about ' jumping a claim ' She was\r
+accustomed to use slang of the kind . I have no idea what she\r
+meant "\r
+\r
+" American slang is very expressive sometimes . And what did your\r
+wife do when she finished speaking to her maid "\r
+\r
+" She walked into the breakfast - room "\r
+\r
+" On your arm "\r
+\r
+" No , alone . She was very independent in little matters like that .\r
+Then , after we had sat down for ten minutes or so , she rose\r
+hurriedly , muttered some words of apology , and left the room . She\r
+never came back "\r
+\r
+" But this maid , Alice , as I understand , deposes that she went to\r
+her room , covered her bride's dress with a long ulster , put on a\r
+bonnet , and went out "\r
+\r
+" Quite so . And she was afterwards seen walking into Hyde Park in\r
+company with Flora Millar , a woman who is now in custody , and who\r
+had already made a disturbance at Mr . Doran's house that\r
+morning "\r
+\r
+" Ah , yes . I should like a few particulars as to this young lady ,\r
+and your relations to her "\r
+\r
+Lord St . Simon shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows .\r
+" We have been on a friendly footing for some years - I may say on\r
+a very friendly footing . She used to be at the Allegro . I have\r
+not treated her ungenerously , and she had no just cause of\r
+complaint against me , but you know what women are , Mr . Holmes .\r
+Flora was a dear little thing , but exceedingly hot - headed and\r
+devotedly attached to me . She wrote me dreadful letters when she\r
+heard that I was about to be married , and , to tell the truth , the\r
+reason why I had the marriage celebrated so quietly was that I\r
+feared lest there might be a scandal in the church . She came to\r
+Mr . Doran's door just after we returned , and she endeavoured to\r
+push her way in , uttering very abusive expressions towards my\r
+wife , and even threatening her , but I had foreseen the\r
+possibility of something of the sort , and I had two police\r
+fellows there in private clothes , who soon pushed her out again .\r
+She was quiet when she saw that there was no good in making a\r
+row "\r
+\r
+" Did your wife hear all this "\r
+\r
+" No , thank goodness , she did not "\r
+\r
+" And she was seen walking with this very woman afterwards "\r
+\r
+" Yes . That is what Mr . Lestrade , of Scotland Yard , looks upon as\r
+so serious . It is thought that Flora decoyed my wife out and laid\r
+some terrible trap for her "\r
+\r
+" Well , it is a possible supposition "\r
+\r
+" You think so , too "\r
+\r
+" I did not say a probable one . But you do not yourself look upon\r
+this as likely "\r
+\r
+" I do not think Flora would hurt a fly "\r
+\r
+" Still , jealousy is a strange transformer of characters . Pray\r
+what is your own theory as to what took place "\r
+\r
+" Well , really , I came to seek a theory , not to propound one . I\r
+have given you all the facts . Since you ask me , however , I may\r
+say that it has occurred to me as possible that the excitement of\r
+this affair , the consciousness that she had made so immense a\r
+social stride , had the effect of causing some little nervous\r
+disturbance in my wife "\r
+\r
+" In short , that she had become suddenly deranged "\r
+\r
+" Well , really , when I consider that she has turned her back - I\r
+will not say upon me , but upon so much that many have aspired to\r
+without success - I can hardly explain it in any other fashion "\r
+\r
+" Well , certainly that is also a conceivable hypothesis " said\r
+Holmes , smiling . " And now , Lord St . Simon , I think that I have\r
+nearly all my data . May I ask whether you were seated at the\r
+breakfast - table so that you could see out of the window "\r
+\r
+" We could see the other side of the road and the Park "\r
+\r
+" Quite so . Then I do not think that I need to detain you longer .\r
+I shall communicate with you "\r
+\r
+" Should you be fortunate enough to solve this problem " said our\r
+client , rising .\r
+\r
+" I have solved it "\r
+\r
+" Eh ? What was that "\r
+\r
+" I say that I have solved it "\r
+\r
+" Where , then , is my wife "\r
+\r
+" That is a detail which I shall speedily supply "\r
+\r
+Lord St . Simon shook his head . " I am afraid that it will take\r
+wiser heads than yours or mine " he remarked , and bowing in a\r
+stately , old - fashioned manner he departed .\r
+\r
+" It is very good of Lord St . Simon to honour my head by putting\r
+it on a level with his own " said Sherlock Holmes , laughing . " I\r
+think that I shall have a whisky and soda and a cigar after all\r
+this cross - questioning . I had formed my conclusions as to the\r
+case before our client came into the room "\r
+\r
+" My dear Holmes "\r
+\r
+" I have notes of several similar cases , though none , as I\r
+remarked before , which were quite as prompt . My whole examination\r
+served to turn my conjecture into a certainty . Circumstantial\r
+evidence is occasionally very convincing , as when you find a\r
+trout in the milk , to quote Thoreau's example "\r
+\r
+" But I have heard all that you have heard "\r
+\r
+" Without , however , the knowledge of pre - existing cases which\r
+serves me so well . There was a parallel instance in Aberdeen some\r
+years back , and something on very much the same lines at Munich\r
+the year after the Franco - Prussian War . It is one of these\r
+cases - but , hullo , here is Lestrade ! Good - afternoon , Lestrade !\r
+You will find an extra tumbler upon the sideboard , and there are\r
+cigars in the box "\r
+\r
+The official detective was attired in a pea - jacket and cravat ,\r
+which gave him a decidedly nautical appearance , and he carried a\r
+black canvas bag in his hand . With a short greeting he seated\r
+himself and lit the cigar which had been offered to him .\r
+\r
+" What's up , then " asked Holmes with a twinkle in his eye . " You\r
+look dissatisfied "\r
+\r
+" And I feel dissatisfied . It is this infernal St . Simon marriage\r
+case . I can make neither head nor tail of the business "\r
+\r
+" Really ! You surprise me "\r
+\r
+" Who ever heard of such a mixed affair ? Every clue seems to slip\r
+through my fingers . I have been at work upon it all day "\r
+\r
+" And very wet it seems to have made you " said Holmes laying his\r
+hand upon the arm of the pea - jacket .\r
+\r
+" Yes , I have been dragging the Serpentine "\r
+\r
+" In heaven's name , what for "\r
+\r
+" In search of the body of Lady St . Simon "\r
+\r
+Sherlock Holmes leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily .\r
+\r
+" Have you dragged the basin of Trafalgar Square fountain " he\r
+asked .\r
+\r
+" Why ? What do you mean "\r
+\r
+" Because you have just as good a chance of finding this lady in\r
+the one as in the other "\r
+\r
+Lestrade shot an angry glance at my companion . " I suppose you\r
+know all about it " he snarled .\r
+\r
+" Well , I have only just heard the facts , but my mind is made up "\r
+\r
+" Oh , indeed ! Then you think that the Serpentine plays no part in\r
+the matter "\r
+\r
+" I think it very unlikely "\r
+\r
+" Then perhaps you will kindly explain how it is that we found\r
+this in it " He opened his bag as he spoke , and tumbled onto the\r
+floor a wedding - dress of watered silk , a pair of white satin\r
+shoes and a bride's wreath and veil , all discoloured and soaked\r
+in water . " There " said he , putting a new wedding - ring upon the\r
+top of the pile . " There is a little nut for you to crack , Master\r
+Holmes "\r
+\r
+" Oh , indeed " said my friend , blowing blue rings into the air .\r
+" You dragged them from the Serpentine "\r
+\r
+" No . They were found floating near the margin by a park - keeper .\r
+They have been identified as her clothes , and it seemed to me\r
+that if the clothes were there the body would not be far off "\r
+\r
+" By the same brilliant reasoning , every man's body is to be found\r
+in the neighbourhood of his wardrobe . And pray what did you hope\r
+to arrive at through this "\r
+\r
+" At some evidence implicating Flora Millar in the disappearance "\r
+\r
+" I am afraid that you will find it difficult "\r
+\r
+" Are you , indeed , now " cried Lestrade with some bitterness . " I\r
+am afraid , Holmes , that you are not very practical with your\r
+deductions and your inferences . You have made two blunders in as\r
+many minutes . This dress does implicate Miss Flora Millar "\r
+\r
+" And how "\r
+\r
+" In the dress is a pocket . In the pocket is a card - case . In the\r
+card - case is a note . And here is the very note " He slapped it\r
+down upon the table in front of him . " Listen to this : ' You will\r
+see me when all is ready . Come at once . F . H . M ' Now my theory all\r
+along has been that Lady St . Simon was decoyed away by Flora\r
+Millar , and that she , with confederates , no doubt , was\r
+responsible for her disappearance . Here , signed with her\r
+initials , is the very note which was no doubt quietly slipped\r
+into her hand at the door and which lured her within their\r
+reach "\r
+\r
+" Very good , Lestrade " said Holmes , laughing . " You really are\r
+very fine indeed . Let me see it " He took up the paper in a\r
+listless way , but his attention instantly became riveted , and he\r
+gave a little cry of satisfaction . " This is indeed important "\r
+said he .\r
+\r
+" Ha ! you find it so "\r
+\r
+" Extremely so . I congratulate you warmly "\r
+\r
+Lestrade rose in his triumph and bent his head to look . " Why " he\r
+shrieked , " you ' re looking at the wrong side "\r
+\r
+" On the contrary , this is the right side "\r
+\r
+" The right side ? You ' re mad ! Here is the note written in pencil\r
+over here "\r
+\r
+" And over here is what appears to be the fragment of a hotel\r
+bill , which interests me deeply "\r
+\r
+" There's nothing in it . I looked at it before " said Lestrade .\r
+ ' Oct . 4th , rooms 8s , breakfast 2s . 6d , cocktail 1s , lunch 2s .\r
+6d , glass sherry , 8d ' I see nothing in that "\r
+\r
+" Very likely not . It is most important , all the same . As to the\r
+note , it is important also , or at least the initials are , so I\r
+congratulate you again "\r
+\r
+" I ' ve wasted time enough " said Lestrade , rising . " I believe in\r
+hard work and not in sitting by the fire spinning fine theories .\r
+Good - day , Mr . Holmes , and we shall see which gets to the bottom\r
+of the matter first " He gathered up the garments , thrust them\r
+into the bag , and made for the door .\r
+\r
+" Just one hint to you , Lestrade " drawled Holmes before his rival\r
+vanished ; " I will tell you the true solution of the matter . Lady\r
+St . Simon is a myth . There is not , and there never has been , any\r
+such person "\r
+\r
+Lestrade looked sadly at my companion . Then he turned to me ,\r
+tapped his forehead three times , shook his head solemnly , and\r
+hurried away .\r
+\r
+He had hardly shut the door behind him when Holmes rose to put on\r
+his overcoat . " There is something in what the fellow says about\r
+outdoor work " he remarked , " so I think , Watson , that I must\r
+leave you to your papers for a little "\r
+\r
+It was after five o'clock when Sherlock Holmes left me , but I had\r
+no time to be lonely , for within an hour there arrived a\r
+confectioner's man with a very large flat box . This he unpacked\r
+with the help of a youth whom he had brought with him , and\r
+presently , to my very great astonishment , a quite epicurean\r
+little cold supper began to be laid out upon our humble\r
+lodging - house mahogany . There were a couple of brace of cold\r
+woodcock , a pheasant , a pate de foie gras pie with a group of\r
+ancient and cobwebby bottles . Having laid out all these luxuries ,\r
+my two visitors vanished away , like the genii of the Arabian\r
+Nights , with no explanation save that the things had been paid\r
+for and were ordered to this address .\r
+\r
+Just before nine o'clock Sherlock Holmes stepped briskly into the\r
+room . His features were gravely set , but there was a light in his\r
+eye which made me think that he had not been disappointed in his\r
+conclusions .\r
+\r
+" They have laid the supper , then " he said , rubbing his hands .\r
+\r
+" You seem to expect company . They have laid for five "\r
+\r
+" Yes , I fancy we may have some company dropping in " said he . " I\r
+am surprised that Lord St . Simon has not already arrived . Ha ! I\r
+fancy that I hear his step now upon the stairs "\r
+\r
+It was indeed our visitor of the afternoon who came bustling in ,\r
+dangling his glasses more vigorously than ever , and with a very\r
+perturbed expression upon his aristocratic features .\r
+\r
+" My messenger reached you , then " asked Holmes .\r
+\r
+" Yes , and I confess that the contents startled me beyond measure .\r
+Have you good authority for what you say "\r
+\r
+" The best possible "\r
+\r
+Lord St . Simon sank into a chair and passed his hand over his\r
+forehead .\r
+\r
+" What will the Duke say " he murmured , " when he hears that one of\r
+the family has been subjected to such humiliation "\r
+\r
+" It is the purest accident . I cannot allow that there is any\r
+humiliation "\r
+\r
+" Ah , you look on these things from another standpoint "\r
+\r
+" I fail to see that anyone is to blame . I can hardly see how the\r
+lady could have acted otherwise , though her abrupt method of\r
+doing it was undoubtedly to be regretted . Having no mother , she\r
+had no one to advise her at such a crisis "\r
+\r
+" It was a slight , sir , a public slight " said Lord St . Simon ,\r
+tapping his fingers upon the table .\r
+\r
+" You must make allowance for this poor girl , placed in so\r
+unprecedented a position "\r
+\r
+" I will make no allowance . I am very angry indeed , and I have\r
+been shamefully used "\r
+\r
+" I think that I heard a ring " said Holmes . " Yes , there are steps\r
+on the landing . If I cannot persuade you to take a lenient view\r
+of the matter , Lord St . Simon , I have brought an advocate here\r
+who may be more successful " He opened the door and ushered in a\r
+lady and gentleman . " Lord St . Simon " said he " allow me to\r
+introduce you to Mr . and Mrs . Francis Hay Moulton . The lady , I\r
+think , you have already met "\r
+\r
+At the sight of these newcomers our client had sprung from his\r
+seat and stood very erect , with his eyes cast down and his hand\r
+thrust into the breast of his frock - coat , a picture of offended\r
+dignity . The lady had taken a quick step forward and had held out\r
+her hand to him , but he still refused to raise his eyes . It was\r
+as well for his resolution , perhaps , for her pleading face was\r
+one which it was hard to resist .\r
+\r
+" You ' re angry , Robert " said she . " Well , I guess you have every\r
+cause to be "\r
+\r
+" Pray make no apology to me " said Lord St . Simon bitterly .\r
+\r
+" Oh , yes , I know that I have treated you real bad and that I\r
+should have spoken to you before I went ; but I was kind of\r
+rattled , and from the time when I saw Frank here again I just\r
+didn't know what I was doing or saying . I only wonder I didn ' t\r
+fall down and do a faint right there before the altar "\r
+\r
+" Perhaps , Mrs . Moulton , you would like my friend and me to leave\r
+the room while you explain this matter "\r
+\r
+" If I may give an opinion " remarked the strange gentleman ,\r
+" we ' ve had just a little too much secrecy over this business\r
+already . For my part , I should like all Europe and America to\r
+hear the rights of it " He was a small , wiry , sunburnt man ,\r
+clean - shaven , with a sharp face and alert manner .\r
+\r
+" Then I ' ll tell our story right away " said the lady . " Frank here\r
+and I met in ' 84 , in McQuire's camp , near the Rockies , where pa\r
+was working a claim . We were engaged to each other , Frank and I ;\r
+but then one day father struck a rich pocket and made a pile ,\r
+while poor Frank here had a claim that petered out and came to\r
+nothing . The richer pa grew the poorer was Frank ; so at last pa\r
+wouldn't hear of our engagement lasting any longer , and he took\r
+me away to ' Frisco . Frank wouldn't throw up his hand , though ; so\r
+he followed me there , and he saw me without pa knowing anything\r
+about it . It would only have made him mad to know , so we just\r
+fixed it all up for ourselves . Frank said that he would go and\r
+make his pile , too , and never come back to claim me until he had\r
+as much as pa . So then I promised to wait for him to the end of\r
+time and pledged myself not to marry anyone else while he lived .\r
+' Why shouldn't we be married right away , then ' said he , ' and\r
+then I will feel sure of you ; and I won't claim to be your\r
+husband until I come back ' Well , we talked it over , and he had\r
+fixed it all up so nicely , with a clergyman all ready in waiting ,\r
+that we just did it right there ; and then Frank went off to seek\r
+his fortune , and I went back to pa .\r
+\r
+" The next I heard of Frank was that he was in Montana , and then\r
+he went prospecting in Arizona , and then I heard of him from New\r
+Mexico . After that came a long newspaper story about how a\r
+miners ' camp had been attacked by Apache Indians , and there was\r
+my Frank's name among the killed . I fainted dead away , and I was\r
+very sick for months after . Pa thought I had a decline and took\r
+me to half the doctors in ' Frisco . Not a word of news came for a\r
+year and more , so that I never doubted that Frank was really\r
+dead . Then Lord St . Simon came to ' Frisco , and we came to London ,\r
+and a marriage was arranged , and pa was very pleased , but I felt\r
+all the time that no man on this earth would ever take the place\r
+in my heart that had been given to my poor Frank .\r
+\r
+" Still , if I had married Lord St . Simon , of course I ' d have done\r
+my duty by him . We can't command our love , but we can our\r
+actions . I went to the altar with him with the intention to make\r
+him just as good a wife as it was in me to be . But you may\r
+imagine what I felt when , just as I came to the altar rails , I\r
+glanced back and saw Frank standing and looking at me out of the\r
+first pew . I thought it was his ghost at first ; but when I looked\r
+again there he was still , with a kind of question in his eyes , as\r
+if to ask me whether I were glad or sorry to see him . I wonder I\r
+didn't drop . I know that everything was turning round , and the\r
+words of the clergyman were just like the buzz of a bee in my\r
+ear . I didn't know what to do . Should I stop the service and make\r
+a scene in the church ? I glanced at him again , and he seemed to\r
+know what I was thinking , for he raised his finger to his lips to\r
+tell me to be still . Then I saw him scribble on a piece of paper ,\r
+and I knew that he was writing me a note . As I passed his pew on\r
+the way out I dropped my bouquet over to him , and he slipped the\r
+note into my hand when he returned me the flowers . It was only a\r
+line asking me to join him when he made the sign to me to do so .\r
+Of course I never doubted for a moment that my first duty was now\r
+to him , and I determined to do just whatever he might direct .\r
+\r
+" When I got back I told my maid , who had known him in California ,\r
+and had always been his friend . I ordered her to say nothing , but\r
+to get a few things packed and my ulster ready . I know I ought to\r
+have spoken to Lord St . Simon , but it was dreadful hard before\r
+his mother and all those great people . I just made up my mind to\r
+run away and explain afterwards . I hadn't been at the table ten\r
+minutes before I saw Frank out of the window at the other side of\r
+the road . He beckoned to me and then began walking into the Park .\r
+I slipped out , put on my things , and followed him . Some woman\r
+came talking something or other about Lord St . Simon to\r
+me - seemed to me from the little I heard as if he had a little\r
+secret of his own before marriage also - but I managed to get away\r
+from her and soon overtook Frank . We got into a cab together , and\r
+away we drove to some lodgings he had taken in Gordon Square , and\r
+that was my true wedding after all those years of waiting . Frank\r
+had been a prisoner among the Apaches , had escaped , came on to\r
+' Frisco , found that I had given him up for dead and had gone to\r
+England , followed me there , and had come upon me at last on the\r
+very morning of my second wedding "\r
+\r
+" I saw it in a paper " explained the American . " It gave the name\r
+and the church but not where the lady lived "\r
+\r
+" Then we had a talk as to what we should do , and Frank was all\r
+for openness , but I was so ashamed of it all that I felt as if I\r
+should like to vanish away and never see any of them again - just\r
+sending a line to pa , perhaps , to show him that I was alive . It\r
+was awful to me to think of all those lords and ladies sitting\r
+round that breakfast - table and waiting for me to come back . So\r
+Frank took my wedding - clothes and things and made a bundle of\r
+them , so that I should not be traced , and dropped them away\r
+somewhere where no one could find them . It is likely that we\r
+should have gone on to Paris to - morrow , only that this good\r
+gentleman , Mr . Holmes , came round to us this evening , though how\r
+he found us is more than I can think , and he showed us very\r
+clearly and kindly that I was wrong and that Frank was right , and\r
+that we should be putting ourselves in the wrong if we were so\r
+secret . Then he offered to give us a chance of talking to Lord\r
+St . Simon alone , and so we came right away round to his rooms at\r
+once . Now , Robert , you have heard it all , and I am very sorry if\r
+I have given you pain , and I hope that you do not think very\r
+meanly of me "\r
+\r
+Lord St . Simon had by no means relaxed his rigid attitude , but\r
+had listened with a frowning brow and a compressed lip to this\r
+long narrative .\r
+\r
+" Excuse me " he said , " but it is not my custom to discuss my most\r
+intimate personal affairs in this public manner "\r
+\r
+" Then you won't forgive me ? You won't shake hands before I go "\r
+\r
+" Oh , certainly , if it would give you any pleasure " He put out\r
+his hand and coldly grasped that which she extended to him .\r
+\r
+" I had hoped " suggested Holmes , " that you would have joined us\r
+in a friendly supper "\r
+\r
+" I think that there you ask a little too much " responded his\r
+Lordship . " I may be forced to acquiesce in these recent\r
+developments , but I can hardly be expected to make merry over\r
+them . I think that with your permission I will now wish you all a\r
+very good - night " He included us all in a sweeping bow and\r
+stalked out of the room .\r
+\r
+" Then I trust that you at least will honour me with your\r
+company " said Sherlock Holmes . " It is always a joy to meet an\r
+American , Mr . Moulton , for I am one of those who believe that the\r
+folly of a monarch and the blundering of a minister in far - gone\r
+years will not prevent our children from being some day citizens\r
+of the same world - wide country under a flag which shall be a\r
+quartering of the Union Jack with the Stars and Stripes "\r
+\r
+" The case has been an interesting one " remarked Holmes when our\r
+visitors had left us , " because it serves to show very clearly how\r
+simple the explanation may be of an affair which at first sight\r
+seems to be almost inexplicable . Nothing could be more natural\r
+than the sequence of events as narrated by this lady , and nothing\r
+stranger than the result when viewed , for instance , by Mr .\r
+Lestrade of Scotland Yard "\r
+\r
+" You were not yourself at fault at all , then "\r
+\r
+" From the first , two facts were very obvious to me , the one that\r
+the lady had been quite willing to undergo the wedding ceremony ,\r
+the other that she had repented of it within a few minutes of\r
+returning home . Obviously something had occurred during the\r
+morning , then , to cause her to change her mind . What could that\r
+something be ? She could not have spoken to anyone when she was\r
+out , for she had been in the company of the bridegroom . Had she\r
+seen someone , then ? If she had , it must be someone from America\r
+because she had spent so short a time in this country that she\r
+could hardly have allowed anyone to acquire so deep an influence\r
+over her that the mere sight of him would induce her to change\r
+her plans so completely . You see we have already arrived , by a\r
+process of exclusion , at the idea that she might have seen an\r
+American . Then who could this American be , and why should he\r
+possess so much influence over her ? It might be a lover ; it might\r
+be a husband . Her young womanhood had , I knew , been spent in\r
+rough scenes and under strange conditions . So far I had got\r
+before I ever heard Lord St . Simon's narrative . When he told us\r
+of a man in a pew , of the change in the bride's manner , of so\r
+transparent a device for obtaining a note as the dropping of a\r
+bouquet , of her resort to her confidential maid , and of her very\r
+significant allusion to claim - jumping - which in miners ' parlance\r
+means taking possession of that which another person has a prior\r
+claim to - the whole situation became absolutely clear . She had\r
+gone off with a man , and the man was either a lover or was a\r
+previous husband - the chances being in favour of the latter "\r
+\r
+" And how in the world did you find them "\r
+\r
+" It might have been difficult , but friend Lestrade held\r
+information in his hands the value of which he did not himself\r
+know . The initials were , of course , of the highest importance ,\r
+but more valuable still was it to know that within a week he had\r
+settled his bill at one of the most select London hotels "\r
+\r
+" How did you deduce the select "\r
+\r
+" By the select prices . Eight shillings for a bed and eightpence\r
+for a glass of sherry pointed to one of the most expensive\r
+hotels . There are not many in London which charge at that rate .\r
+In the second one which I visited in Northumberland Avenue , I\r
+learned by an inspection of the book that Francis H . Moulton , an\r
+American gentleman , had left only the day before , and on looking\r
+over the entries against him , I came upon the very items which I\r
+had seen in the duplicate bill . His letters were to be forwarded\r
+to 226 Gordon Square ; so thither I travelled , and being fortunate\r
+enough to find the loving couple at home , I ventured to give them\r
+some paternal advice and to point out to them that it would be\r
+better in every way that they should make their position a little\r
+clearer both to the general public and to Lord St . Simon in\r
+particular . I invited them to meet him here , and , as you see , I\r
+made him keep the appointment "\r
+\r
+" But with no very good result " I remarked . " His conduct was\r
+certainly not very gracious "\r
+\r
+" Ah , Watson " said Holmes , smiling , " perhaps you would not be\r
+very gracious either , if , after all the trouble of wooing and\r
+wedding , you found yourself deprived in an instant of wife and of\r
+fortune . I think that we may judge Lord St . Simon very mercifully\r
+and thank our stars that we are never likely to find ourselves in\r
+the same position . Draw your chair up and hand me my violin , for\r
+the only problem we have still to solve is how to while away\r
+these bleak autumnal evenings "\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+XI . THE ADVENTURE OF THE BERYL CORONET\r
+\r
+" Holmes " said I as I stood one morning in our bow - window looking\r
+down the street , " here is a madman coming along . It seems rather\r
+sad that his relatives should allow him to come out alone "\r
+\r
+My friend rose lazily from his armchair and stood with his hands\r
+in the pockets of his dressing - gown , looking over my shoulder . It\r
+was a bright , crisp February morning , and the snow of the day\r
+before still lay deep upon the ground , shimmering brightly in the\r
+wintry sun . Down the centre of Baker Street it had been ploughed\r
+into a brown crumbly band by the traffic , but at either side and\r
+on the heaped - up edges of the foot - paths it still lay as white as\r
+when it fell . The grey pavement had been cleaned and scraped , but\r
+was still dangerously slippery , so that there were fewer\r
+passengers than usual . Indeed , from the direction of the\r
+Metropolitan Station no one was coming save the single gentleman\r
+whose eccentric conduct had drawn my attention .\r
+\r
+He was a man of about fifty , tall , portly , and imposing , with a\r
+massive , strongly marked face and a commanding figure . He was\r
+dressed in a sombre yet rich style , in black frock - coat , shining\r
+hat , neat brown gaiters , and well - cut pearl - grey trousers . Yet\r
+his actions were in absurd contrast to the dignity of his dress\r
+and features , for he was running hard , with occasional little\r
+springs , such as a weary man gives who is little accustomed to\r
+set any tax upon his legs . As he ran he jerked his hands up and\r
+down , waggled his head , and writhed his face into the most\r
+extraordinary contortions .\r
+\r
+" What on earth can be the matter with him " I asked . " He is\r
+looking up at the numbers of the houses "\r
+\r
+" I believe that he is coming here " said Holmes , rubbing his\r
+hands .\r
+\r
+" Here "\r
+\r
+" Yes ; I rather think he is coming to consult me professionally . I\r
+think that I recognise the symptoms . Ha ! did I not tell you " As\r
+he spoke , the man , puffing and blowing , rushed at our door and\r
+pulled at our bell until the whole house resounded with the\r
+clanging .\r
+\r
+A few moments later he was in our room , still puffing , still\r
+gesticulating , but with so fixed a look of grief and despair in\r
+his eyes that our smiles were turned in an instant to horror and\r
+pity . For a while he could not get his words out , but swayed his\r
+body and plucked at his hair like one who has been driven to the\r
+extreme limits of his reason . Then , suddenly springing to his\r
+feet , he beat his head against the wall with such force that we\r
+both rushed upon him and tore him away to the centre of the room .\r
+Sherlock Holmes pushed him down into the easy - chair and , sitting\r
+beside him , patted his hand and chatted with him in the easy ,\r
+soothing tones which he knew so well how to employ .\r
+\r
+" You have come to me to tell your story , have you not " said he .\r
+" You are fatigued with your haste . Pray wait until you have\r
+recovered yourself , and then I shall be most happy to look into\r
+any little problem which you may submit to me "\r
+\r
+The man sat for a minute or more with a heaving chest , fighting\r
+against his emotion . Then he passed his handkerchief over his\r
+brow , set his lips tight , and turned his face towards us .\r
+\r
+" No doubt you think me mad " said he .\r
+\r
+" I see that you have had some great trouble " responded Holmes .\r
+\r
+" God knows I have -- a trouble which is enough to unseat my\r
+reason , so sudden and so terrible is it . Public disgrace I might\r
+have faced , although I am a man whose character has never yet\r
+borne a stain . Private affliction also is the lot of every man ;\r
+but the two coming together , and in so frightful a form , have\r
+been enough to shake my very soul . Besides , it is not I alone .\r
+The very noblest in the land may suffer unless some way be found\r
+out of this horrible affair "\r
+\r
+" Pray compose yourself , sir " said Holmes , " and let me have a\r
+clear account of who you are and what it is that has befallen\r
+you "\r
+\r
+" My name " answered our visitor , " is probably familiar to your\r
+ears . I am Alexander Holder , of the banking firm of Holder &\r
+Stevenson , of Threadneedle Street "\r
+\r
+The name was indeed well known to us as belonging to the senior\r
+partner in the second largest private banking concern in the City\r
+of London . What could have happened , then , to bring one of the\r
+foremost citizens of London to this most pitiable pass ? We\r
+waited , all curiosity , until with another effort he braced\r
+himself to tell his story .\r
+\r
+" I feel that time is of value " said he ; " that is why I hastened\r
+here when the police inspector suggested that I should secure\r
+your co - operation . I came to Baker Street by the Underground and\r
+hurried from there on foot , for the cabs go slowly through this\r
+snow . That is why I was so out of breath , for I am a man who\r
+takes very little exercise . I feel better now , and I will put the\r
+facts before you as shortly and yet as clearly as I can .\r
+\r
+" It is , of course , well known to you that in a successful banking\r
+business as much depends upon our being able to find remunerative\r
+investments for our funds as upon our increasing our connection\r
+and the number of our depositors . One of our most lucrative means\r
+of laying out money is in the shape of loans , where the security\r
+is unimpeachable . We have done a good deal in this direction\r
+during the last few years , and there are many noble families to\r
+whom we have advanced large sums upon the security of their\r
+pictures , libraries , or plate .\r
+\r
+" Yesterday morning I was seated in my office at the bank when a\r
+card was brought in to me by one of the clerks . I started when I\r
+saw the name , for it was that of none other than - well , perhaps\r
+even to you I had better say no more than that it was a name\r
+which is a household word all over the earth - one of the highest ,\r
+noblest , most exalted names in England . I was overwhelmed by the\r
+honour and attempted , when he entered , to say so , but he plunged\r
+at once into business with the air of a man who wishes to hurry\r
+quickly through a disagreeable task .\r
+\r
+ ' Mr . Holder ' said he , ' I have been informed that you are in the\r
+habit of advancing money '\r
+\r
+ ' The firm does so when the security is good ' I answered .\r
+\r
+ ' It is absolutely essential to me ' said he , ' that I should have\r
+50 , 000 pounds at once . I could , of course , borrow so trifling a\r
+sum ten times over from my friends , but I much prefer to make it\r
+a matter of business and to carry out that business myself . In my\r
+position you can readily understand that it is unwise to place\r
+one's self under obligations '\r
+\r
+ ' For how long , may I ask , do you want this sum ' I asked .\r
+\r
+ ' Next Monday I have a large sum due to me , and I shall then most\r
+certainly repay what you advance , with whatever interest you\r
+think it right to charge . But it is very essential to me that the\r
+money should be paid at once '\r
+\r
+ ' I should be happy to advance it without further parley from my\r
+own private purse ' said I , ' were it not that the strain would be\r
+rather more than it could bear . If , on the other hand , I am to do\r
+it in the name of the firm , then in justice to my partner I must\r
+insist that , even in your case , every businesslike precaution\r
+should be taken '\r
+\r
+ ' I should much prefer to have it so ' said he , raising up a\r
+square , black morocco case which he had laid beside his chair .\r
+' You have doubtless heard of the Beryl Coronet '\r
+\r
+ ' One of the most precious public possessions of the empire '\r
+said I .\r
+\r
+ ' Precisely ' He opened the case , and there , imbedded in soft ,\r
+flesh - coloured velvet , lay the magnificent piece of jewellery\r
+which he had named . ' There are thirty - nine enormous beryls ' said\r
+he , ' and the price of the gold chasing is incalculable . The\r
+lowest estimate would put the worth of the coronet at double the\r
+sum which I have asked . I am prepared to leave it with you as my\r
+security '\r
+\r
+" I took the precious case into my hands and looked in some\r
+perplexity from it to my illustrious client .\r
+\r
+ ' You doubt its value ' he asked .\r
+\r
+ ' Not at all . I only doubt -'\r
+\r
+ ' The propriety of my leaving it . You may set your mind at rest\r
+about that . I should not dream of doing so were it not absolutely\r
+certain that I should be able in four days to reclaim it . It is a\r
+pure matter of form . Is the security sufficient '\r
+\r
+ ' Ample '\r
+\r
+ ' You understand , Mr . Holder , that I am giving you a strong proof\r
+of the confidence which I have in you , founded upon all that I\r
+have heard of you . I rely upon you not only to be discreet and to\r
+refrain from all gossip upon the matter but , above all , to\r
+preserve this coronet with every possible precaution because I\r
+need not say that a great public scandal would be caused if any\r
+harm were to befall it . Any injury to it would be almost as\r
+serious as its complete loss , for there are no beryls in the\r
+world to match these , and it would be impossible to replace them .\r
+I leave it with you , however , with every confidence , and I shall\r
+call for it in person on Monday morning '\r
+\r
+" Seeing that my client was anxious to leave , I said no more but ,\r
+calling for my cashier , I ordered him to pay over fifty 1000\r
+pound notes . When I was alone once more , however , with the\r
+precious case lying upon the table in front of me , I could not\r
+but think with some misgivings of the immense responsibility\r
+which it entailed upon me . There could be no doubt that , as it\r
+was a national possession , a horrible scandal would ensue if any\r
+misfortune should occur to it . I already regretted having ever\r
+consented to take charge of it . However , it was too late to alter\r
+the matter now , so I locked it up in my private safe and turned\r
+once more to my work .\r
+\r
+" When evening came I felt that it would be an imprudence to leave\r
+so precious a thing in the office behind me . Bankers ' safes had\r
+been forced before now , and why should not mine be ? If so , how\r
+terrible would be the position in which I should find myself ! I\r
+determined , therefore , that for the next few days I would always\r
+carry the case backward and forward with me , so that it might\r
+never be really out of my reach . With this intention , I called a\r
+cab and drove out to my house at Streatham , carrying the jewel\r
+with me . I did not breathe freely until I had taken it upstairs\r
+and locked it in the bureau of my dressing - room .\r
+\r
+" And now a word as to my household , Mr . Holmes , for I wish you to\r
+thoroughly understand the situation . My groom and my page sleep\r
+out of the house , and may be set aside altogether . I have three\r
+maid - servants who have been with me a number of years and whose\r
+absolute reliability is quite above suspicion . Another , Lucy\r
+Parr , the second waiting - maid , has only been in my service a few\r
+months . She came with an excellent character , however , and has\r
+always given me satisfaction . She is a very pretty girl and has\r
+attracted admirers who have occasionally hung about the place .\r
+That is the only drawback which we have found to her , but we\r
+believe her to be a thoroughly good girl in every way .\r
+\r
+" So much for the servants . My family itself is so small that it\r
+will not take me long to describe it . I am a widower and have an\r
+only son , Arthur . He has been a disappointment to me , Mr .\r
+Holmes - a grievous disappointment . I have no doubt that I am\r
+myself to blame . People tell me that I have spoiled him . Very\r
+likely I have . When my dear wife died I felt that he was all I\r
+had to love . I could not bear to see the smile fade even for a\r
+moment from his face . I have never denied him a wish . Perhaps it\r
+would have been better for both of us had I been sterner , but I\r
+meant it for the best .\r
+\r
+" It was naturally my intention that he should succeed me in my\r
+business , but he was not of a business turn . He was wild ,\r
+wayward , and , to speak the truth , I could not trust him in the\r
+handling of large sums of money . When he was young he became a\r
+member of an aristocratic club , and there , having charming\r
+manners , he was soon the intimate of a number of men with long\r
+purses and expensive habits . He learned to play heavily at cards\r
+and to squander money on the turf , until he had again and again\r
+to come to me and implore me to give him an advance upon his\r
+allowance , that he might settle his debts of honour . He tried\r
+more than once to break away from the dangerous company which he\r
+was keeping , but each time the influence of his friend , Sir\r
+George Burnwell , was enough to draw him back again .\r
+\r
+" And , indeed , I could not wonder that such a man as Sir George\r
+Burnwell should gain an influence over him , for he has frequently\r
+brought him to my house , and I have found myself that I could\r
+hardly resist the fascination of his manner . He is older than\r
+Arthur , a man of the world to his finger - tips , one who had been\r
+everywhere , seen everything , a brilliant talker , and a man of\r
+great personal beauty . Yet when I think of him in cold blood , far\r
+away from the glamour of his presence , I am convinced from his\r
+cynical speech and the look which I have caught in his eyes that\r
+he is one who should be deeply distrusted . So I think , and so ,\r
+too , thinks my little Mary , who has a woman's quick insight into\r
+character .\r
+\r
+" And now there is only she to be described . She is my niece ; but\r
+when my brother died five years ago and left her alone in the\r
+world I adopted her , and have looked upon her ever since as my\r
+daughter . She is a sunbeam in my house - sweet , loving , beautiful ,\r
+a wonderful manager and housekeeper , yet as tender and quiet and\r
+gentle as a woman could be . She is my right hand . I do not know\r
+what I could do without her . In only one matter has she ever gone\r
+against my wishes . Twice my boy has asked her to marry him , for\r
+he loves her devotedly , but each time she has refused him . I\r
+think that if anyone could have drawn him into the right path it\r
+would have been she , and that his marriage might have changed his\r
+whole life ; but now , alas ! it is too late - forever too late !\r
+\r
+" Now , Mr . Holmes , you know the people who live under my roof , and\r
+I shall continue with my miserable story .\r
+\r
+" When we were taking coffee in the drawing - room that night after\r
+dinner , I told Arthur and Mary my experience , and of the precious\r
+treasure which we had under our roof , suppressing only the name\r
+of my client . Lucy Parr , who had brought in the coffee , had , I am\r
+sure , left the room ; but I cannot swear that the door was closed .\r
+Mary and Arthur were much interested and wished to see the famous\r
+coronet , but I thought it better not to disturb it .\r
+\r
+ ' Where have you put it ' asked Arthur .\r
+\r
+ ' In my own bureau '\r
+\r
+ ' Well , I hope to goodness the house won't be burgled during the\r
+night ' said he .\r
+\r
+ ' It is locked up ' I answered .\r
+\r
+ ' Oh , any old key will fit that bureau . When I was a youngster I\r
+have opened it myself with the key of the box - room cupboard '\r
+\r
+" He often had a wild way of talking , so that I thought little of\r
+what he said . He followed me to my room , however , that night with\r
+a very grave face .\r
+\r
+ ' Look here , dad ' said he with his eyes cast down , ' can you let\r
+me have 200 pounds '\r
+\r
+ ' No , I cannot ' I answered sharply . ' I have been far too\r
+generous with you in money matters '\r
+\r
+ ' You have been very kind ' said he , ' but I must have this money ,\r
+or else I can never show my face inside the club again '\r
+\r
+ ' And a very good thing , too ' I cried .\r
+\r
+ ' Yes , but you would not have me leave it a dishonoured man '\r
+said he . ' I could not bear the disgrace . I must raise the money\r
+in some way , and if you will not let me have it , then I must try\r
+other means '\r
+\r
+" I was very angry , for this was the third demand during the\r
+month . ' You shall not have a farthing from me ' I cried , on which\r
+he bowed and left the room without another word .\r
+\r
+" When he was gone I unlocked my bureau , made sure that my\r
+treasure was safe , and locked it again . Then I started to go\r
+round the house to see that all was secure - a duty which I\r
+usually leave to Mary but which I thought it well to perform\r
+myself that night . As I came down the stairs I saw Mary herself\r
+at the side window of the hall , which she closed and fastened as\r
+I approached .\r
+\r
+ ' Tell me , dad ' said she , looking , I thought , a little\r
+disturbed , ' did you give Lucy , the maid , leave to go out\r
+to - night '\r
+\r
+ ' Certainly not '\r
+\r
+ ' She came in just now by the back door . I have no doubt that she\r
+has only been to the side gate to see someone , but I think that\r
+it is hardly safe and should be stopped '\r
+\r
+ ' You must speak to her in the morning , or I will if you prefer\r
+it . Are you sure that everything is fastened '\r
+\r
+ ' Quite sure , dad '\r
+\r
+ ' Then , good - night ' I kissed her and went up to my bedroom\r
+again , where I was soon asleep .\r
+\r
+" I am endeavouring to tell you everything , Mr . Holmes , which may\r
+have any bearing upon the case , but I beg that you will question\r
+me upon any point which I do not make clear "\r
+\r
+" On the contrary , your statement is singularly lucid "\r
+\r
+" I come to a part of my story now in which I should wish to be\r
+particularly so . I am not a very heavy sleeper , and the anxiety\r
+in my mind tended , no doubt , to make me even less so than usual .\r
+About two in the morning , then , I was awakened by some sound in\r
+the house . It had ceased ere I was wide awake , but it had left an\r
+impression behind it as though a window had gently closed\r
+somewhere . I lay listening with all my ears . Suddenly , to my\r
+horror , there was a distinct sound of footsteps moving softly in\r
+the next room . I slipped out of bed , all palpitating with fear ,\r
+and peeped round the corner of my dressing - room door .\r
+\r
+ ' Arthur ' I screamed , ' you villain ! you thief ! How dare you\r
+touch that coronet '\r
+\r
+" The gas was half up , as I had left it , and my unhappy boy ,\r
+dressed only in his shirt and trousers , was standing beside the\r
+light , holding the coronet in his hands . He appeared to be\r
+wrenching at it , or bending it with all his strength . At my cry\r
+he dropped it from his grasp and turned as pale as death . I\r
+snatched it up and examined it . One of the gold corners , with\r
+three of the beryls in it , was missing .\r
+\r
+ ' You blackguard ' I shouted , beside myself with rage . ' You have\r
+destroyed it ! You have dishonoured me forever ! Where are the\r
+jewels which you have stolen '\r
+\r
+ ' Stolen ' he cried .\r
+\r
+ ' Yes , thief ' I roared , shaking him by the shoulder .\r
+\r
+ ' There are none missing . There cannot be any missing ' said he .\r
+\r
+ ' There are three missing . And you know where they are . Must I\r
+call you a liar as well as a thief ? Did I not see you trying to\r
+tear off another piece '\r
+\r
+ ' You have called me names enough ' said he , ' I will not stand it\r
+any longer . I shall not say another word about this business ,\r
+since you have chosen to insult me . I will leave your house in\r
+the morning and make my own way in the world '\r
+\r
+ ' You shall leave it in the hands of the police ' I cried\r
+half - mad with grief and rage . ' I shall have this matter probed to\r
+the bottom '\r
+\r
+ ' You shall learn nothing from me ' said he with a passion such\r
+as I should not have thought was in his nature . ' If you choose to\r
+call the police , let the police find what they can '\r
+\r
+" By this time the whole house was astir , for I had raised my\r
+voice in my anger . Mary was the first to rush into my room , and ,\r
+at the sight of the coronet and of Arthur's face , she read the\r
+whole story and , with a scream , fell down senseless on the\r
+ground . I sent the house - maid for the police and put the\r
+investigation into their hands at once . When the inspector and a\r
+constable entered the house , Arthur , who had stood sullenly with\r
+his arms folded , asked me whether it was my intention to charge\r
+him with theft . I answered that it had ceased to be a private\r
+matter , but had become a public one , since the ruined coronet was\r
+national property . I was determined that the law should have its\r
+way in everything .\r
+\r
+ ' At least ' said he , ' you will not have me arrested at once . It\r
+would be to your advantage as well as mine if I might leave the\r
+house for five minutes '\r
+\r
+ ' That you may get away , or perhaps that you may conceal what you\r
+have stolen ' said I . And then , realising the dreadful position\r
+in which I was placed , I implored him to remember that not only\r
+my honour but that of one who was far greater than I was at\r
+stake ; and that he threatened to raise a scandal which would\r
+convulse the nation . He might avert it all if he would but tell\r
+me what he had done with the three missing stones .\r
+\r
+ ' You may as well face the matter ' said I ; ' you have been caught\r
+in the act , and no confession could make your guilt more heinous .\r
+If you but make such reparation as is in your power , by telling\r
+us where the beryls are , all shall be forgiven and forgotten '\r
+\r
+ ' Keep your forgiveness for those who ask for it ' he answered ,\r
+turning away from me with a sneer . I saw that he was too hardened\r
+for any words of mine to influence him . There was but one way for\r
+it . I called in the inspector and gave him into custody . A search\r
+was made at once not only of his person but of his room and of\r
+every portion of the house where he could possibly have concealed\r
+the gems ; but no trace of them could be found , nor would the\r
+wretched boy open his mouth for all our persuasions and our\r
+threats . This morning he was removed to a cell , and I , after\r
+going through all the police formalities , have hurried round to\r
+you to implore you to use your skill in unravelling the matter .\r
+The police have openly confessed that they can at present make\r
+nothing of it . You may go to any expense which you think\r
+necessary . I have already offered a reward of 1000 pounds . My\r
+God , what shall I do ! I have lost my honour , my gems , and my son\r
+in one night . Oh , what shall I do "\r
+\r
+He put a hand on either side of his head and rocked himself to\r
+and fro , droning to himself like a child whose grief has got\r
+beyond words .\r
+\r
+Sherlock Holmes sat silent for some few minutes , with his brows\r
+knitted and his eyes fixed upon the fire .\r
+\r
+" Do you receive much company " he asked .\r
+\r
+" None save my partner with his family and an occasional friend of\r
+Arthur's . Sir George Burnwell has been several times lately . No\r
+one else , I think "\r
+\r
+" Do you go out much in society "\r
+\r
+" Arthur does . Mary and I stay at home . We neither of us care for\r
+it "\r
+\r
+" That is unusual in a young girl "\r
+\r
+" She is of a quiet nature . Besides , she is not so very young . She\r
+is four - and - twenty "\r
+\r
+" This matter , from what you say , seems to have been a shock to\r
+her also "\r
+\r
+" Terrible ! She is even more affected than I "\r
+\r
+" You have neither of you any doubt as to your son's guilt "\r
+\r
+" How can we have when I saw him with my own eyes with the coronet\r
+in his hands "\r
+\r
+" I hardly consider that a conclusive proof . Was the remainder of\r
+the coronet at all injured "\r
+\r
+" Yes , it was twisted "\r
+\r
+" Do you not think , then , that he might have been trying to\r
+straighten it "\r
+\r
+" God bless you ! You are doing what you can for him and for me .\r
+But it is too heavy a task . What was he doing there at all ? If\r
+his purpose were innocent , why did he not say so "\r
+\r
+" Precisely . And if it were guilty , why did he not invent a lie ?\r
+His silence appears to me to cut both ways . There are several\r
+singular points about the case . What did the police think of the\r
+noise which awoke you from your sleep "\r
+\r
+" They considered that it might be caused by Arthur's closing his\r
+bedroom door "\r
+\r
+" A likely story ! As if a man bent on felony would slam his door\r
+so as to wake a household . What did they say , then , of the\r
+disappearance of these gems "\r
+\r
+" They are still sounding the planking and probing the furniture\r
+in the hope of finding them "\r
+\r
+" Have they thought of looking outside the house "\r
+\r
+" Yes , they have shown extraordinary energy . The whole garden has\r
+already been minutely examined "\r
+\r
+" Now , my dear sir " said Holmes , " is it not obvious to you now\r
+that this matter really strikes very much deeper than either you\r
+or the police were at first inclined to think ? It appeared to you\r
+to be a simple case ; to me it seems exceedingly complex . Consider\r
+what is involved by your theory . You suppose that your son came\r
+down from his bed , went , at great risk , to your dressing - room ,\r
+opened your bureau , took out your coronet , broke off by main\r
+force a small portion of it , went off to some other place ,\r
+concealed three gems out of the thirty - nine , with such skill that\r
+nobody can find them , and then returned with the other thirty - six\r
+into the room in which he exposed himself to the greatest danger\r
+of being discovered . I ask you now , is such a theory tenable "\r
+\r
+" But what other is there " cried the banker with a gesture of\r
+despair . " If his motives were innocent , why does he not explain\r
+them "\r
+\r
+" It is our task to find that out " replied Holmes ; " so now , if\r
+you please , Mr . Holder , we will set off for Streatham together ,\r
+and devote an hour to glancing a little more closely into\r
+details "\r
+\r
+My friend insisted upon my accompanying them in their expedition ,\r
+which I was eager enough to do , for my curiosity and sympathy\r
+were deeply stirred by the story to which we had listened . I\r
+confess that the guilt of the banker's son appeared to me to be\r
+as obvious as it did to his unhappy father , but still I had such\r
+faith in Holmes ' judgment that I felt that there must be some\r
+grounds for hope as long as he was dissatisfied with the accepted\r
+explanation . He hardly spoke a word the whole way out to the\r
+southern suburb , but sat with his chin upon his breast and his\r
+hat drawn over his eyes , sunk in the deepest thought . Our client\r
+appeared to have taken fresh heart at the little glimpse of hope\r
+which had been presented to him , and he even broke into a\r
+desultory chat with me over his business affairs . A short railway\r
+journey and a shorter walk brought us to Fairbank , the modest\r
+residence of the great financier .\r
+\r
+Fairbank was a good - sized square house of white stone , standing\r
+back a little from the road . A double carriage - sweep , with a\r
+snow - clad lawn , stretched down in front to two large iron gates\r
+which closed the entrance . On the right side was a small wooden\r
+thicket , which led into a narrow path between two neat hedges\r
+stretching from the road to the kitchen door , and forming the\r
+tradesmen's entrance . On the left ran a lane which led to the\r
+stables , and was not itself within the grounds at all , being a\r
+public , though little used , thoroughfare . Holmes left us standing\r
+at the door and walked slowly all round the house , across the\r
+front , down the tradesmen's path , and so round by the garden\r
+behind into the stable lane . So long was he that Mr . Holder and I\r
+went into the dining - room and waited by the fire until he should\r
+return . We were sitting there in silence when the door opened and\r
+a young lady came in . She was rather above the middle height ,\r
+slim , with dark hair and eyes , which seemed the darker against\r
+the absolute pallor of her skin . I do not think that I have ever\r
+seen such deadly paleness in a woman's face . Her lips , too , were\r
+bloodless , but her eyes were flushed with crying . As she swept\r
+silently into the room she impressed me with a greater sense of\r
+grief than the banker had done in the morning , and it was the\r
+more striking in her as she was evidently a woman of strong\r
+character , with immense capacity for self - restraint . Disregarding\r
+my presence , she went straight to her uncle and passed her hand\r
+over his head with a sweet womanly caress .\r
+\r
+" You have given orders that Arthur should be liberated , have you\r
+not , dad " she asked .\r
+\r
+" No , no , my girl , the matter must be probed to the bottom "\r
+\r
+" But I am so sure that he is innocent . You know what woman's\r
+instincts are . I know that he has done no harm and that you will\r
+be sorry for having acted so harshly "\r
+\r
+" Why is he silent , then , if he is innocent "\r
+\r
+" Who knows ? Perhaps because he was so angry that you should\r
+suspect him "\r
+\r
+" How could I help suspecting him , when I actually saw him with\r
+the coronet in his hand "\r
+\r
+" Oh , but he had only picked it up to look at it . Oh , do , do take\r
+my word for it that he is innocent . Let the matter drop and say\r
+no more . It is so dreadful to think of our dear Arthur in\r
+prison "\r
+\r
+" I shall never let it drop until the gems are found - never , Mary !\r
+Your affection for Arthur blinds you as to the awful consequences\r
+to me . Far from hushing the thing up , I have brought a gentleman\r
+down from London to inquire more deeply into it "\r
+\r
+" This gentleman " she asked , facing round to me .\r
+\r
+" No , his friend . He wished us to leave him alone . He is round in\r
+the stable lane now "\r
+\r
+" The stable lane " She raised her dark eyebrows . " What can he\r
+hope to find there ? Ah ! this , I suppose , is he . I trust , sir ,\r
+that you will succeed in proving , what I feel sure is the truth ,\r
+that my cousin Arthur is innocent of this crime "\r
+\r
+" I fully share your opinion , and I trust , with you , that we may\r
+prove it " returned Holmes , going back to the mat to knock the\r
+snow from his shoes . " I believe I have the honour of addressing\r
+Miss Mary Holder . Might I ask you a question or two "\r
+\r
+" Pray do , sir , if it may help to clear this horrible affair up "\r
+\r
+" You heard nothing yourself last night "\r
+\r
+" Nothing , until my uncle here began to speak loudly . I heard\r
+that , and I came down "\r
+\r
+" You shut up the windows and doors the night before . Did you\r
+fasten all the windows "\r
+\r
+" Yes "\r
+\r
+" Were they all fastened this morning "\r
+\r
+" Yes "\r
+\r
+" You have a maid who has a sweetheart ? I think that you remarked\r
+to your uncle last night that she had been out to see him "\r
+\r
+" Yes , and she was the girl who waited in the drawing - room , and\r
+who may have heard uncle's remarks about the coronet "\r
+\r
+" I see . You infer that she may have gone out to tell her\r
+sweetheart , and that the two may have planned the robbery "\r
+\r
+" But what is the good of all these vague theories " cried the\r
+banker impatiently , " when I have told you that I saw Arthur with\r
+the coronet in his hands "\r
+\r
+" Wait a little , Mr . Holder . We must come back to that . About this\r
+girl , Miss Holder . You saw her return by the kitchen door , I\r
+presume "\r
+\r
+" Yes ; when I went to see if the door was fastened for the night I\r
+met her slipping in . I saw the man , too , in the gloom "\r
+\r
+" Do you know him "\r
+\r
+" Oh , yes ! he is the green - grocer who brings our vegetables round .\r
+His name is Francis Prosper "\r
+\r
+" He stood " said Holmes , " to the left of the door - that is to\r
+say , farther up the path than is necessary to reach the door "\r
+\r
+" Yes , he did "\r
+\r
+" And he is a man with a wooden leg "\r
+\r
+Something like fear sprang up in the young lady's expressive\r
+black eyes . " Why , you are like a magician " said she . " How do you\r
+know that " She smiled , but there was no answering smile in\r
+Holmes ' thin , eager face .\r
+\r
+" I should be very glad now to go upstairs " said he . " I shall\r
+probably wish to go over the outside of the house again . Perhaps\r
+I had better take a look at the lower windows before I go up "\r
+\r
+He walked swiftly round from one to the other , pausing only at\r
+the large one which looked from the hall onto the stable lane .\r
+This he opened and made a very careful examination of the sill\r
+with his powerful magnifying lens . " Now we shall go upstairs "\r
+said he at last .\r
+\r
+The banker's dressing - room was a plainly furnished little\r
+chamber , with a grey carpet , a large bureau , and a long mirror .\r
+Holmes went to the bureau first and looked hard at the lock .\r
+\r
+" Which key was used to open it " he asked .\r
+\r
+" That which my son himself indicated - that of the cupboard of the\r
+lumber - room "\r
+\r
+" Have you it here "\r
+\r
+" That is it on the dressing - table "\r
+\r
+Sherlock Holmes took it up and opened the bureau .\r
+\r
+" It is a noiseless lock " said he . " It is no wonder that it did\r
+not wake you . This case , I presume , contains the coronet . We must\r
+have a look at it " He opened the case , and taking out the diadem\r
+he laid it upon the table . It was a magnificent specimen of the\r
+jeweller's art , and the thirty - six stones were the finest that I\r
+have ever seen . At one side of the coronet was a cracked edge ,\r
+where a corner holding three gems had been torn away .\r
+\r
+" Now , Mr . Holder " said Holmes , " here is the corner which\r
+corresponds to that which has been so unfortunately lost . Might I\r
+beg that you will break it off "\r
+\r
+The banker recoiled in horror . " I should not dream of trying "\r
+said he .\r
+\r
+" Then I will " Holmes suddenly bent his strength upon it , but\r
+without result . " I feel it give a little " said he ; " but , though\r
+I am exceptionally strong in the fingers , it would take me all my\r
+time to break it . An ordinary man could not do it . Now , what do\r
+you think would happen if I did break it , Mr . Holder ? There would\r
+be a noise like a pistol shot . Do you tell me that all this\r
+happened within a few yards of your bed and that you heard\r
+nothing of it "\r
+\r
+" I do not know what to think . It is all dark to me "\r
+\r
+" But perhaps it may grow lighter as we go . What do you think ,\r
+Miss Holder "\r
+\r
+" I confess that I still share my uncle's perplexity "\r
+\r
+" Your son had no shoes or slippers on when you saw him "\r
+\r
+" He had nothing on save only his trousers and shirt "\r
+\r
+" Thank you . We have certainly been favoured with extraordinary\r
+luck during this inquiry , and it will be entirely our own fault\r
+if we do not succeed in clearing the matter up . With your\r
+permission , Mr . Holder , I shall now continue my investigations\r
+outside "\r
+\r
+He went alone , at his own request , for he explained that any\r
+unnecessary footmarks might make his task more difficult . For an\r
+hour or more he was at work , returning at last with his feet\r
+heavy with snow and his features as inscrutable as ever .\r
+\r
+" I think that I have seen now all that there is to see , Mr .\r
+Holder " said he ; " I can serve you best by returning to my\r
+rooms "\r
+\r
+" But the gems , Mr . Holmes . Where are they "\r
+\r
+" I cannot tell "\r
+\r
+The banker wrung his hands . " I shall never see them again " he\r
+cried . " And my son ? You give me hopes "\r
+\r
+" My opinion is in no way altered "\r
+\r
+" Then , for God's sake , what was this dark business which was\r
+acted in my house last night "\r
+\r
+" If you can call upon me at my Baker Street rooms to - morrow\r
+morning between nine and ten I shall be happy to do what I can to\r
+make it clearer . I understand that you give me carte blanche to\r
+act for you , provided only that I get back the gems , and that you\r
+place no limit on the sum I may draw "\r
+\r
+" I would give my fortune to have them back "\r
+\r
+" Very good . I shall look into the matter between this and then .\r
+Good - bye ; it is just possible that I may have to come over here\r
+again before evening "\r
+\r
+It was obvious to me that my companion's mind was now made up\r
+about the case , although what his conclusions were was more than\r
+I could even dimly imagine . Several times during our homeward\r
+journey I endeavoured to sound him upon the point , but he always\r
+glided away to some other topic , until at last I gave it over in\r
+despair . It was not yet three when we found ourselves in our\r
+rooms once more . He hurried to his chamber and was down again in\r
+a few minutes dressed as a common loafer . With his collar turned\r
+up , his shiny , seedy coat , his red cravat , and his worn boots , he\r
+was a perfect sample of the class .\r
+\r
+" I think that this should do " said he , glancing into the glass\r
+above the fireplace . " I only wish that you could come with me ,\r
+Watson , but I fear that it won't do . I may be on the trail in\r
+this matter , or I may be following a will - o - the - wisp , but I\r
+shall soon know which it is . I hope that I may be back in a few\r
+hours " He cut a slice of beef from the joint upon the sideboard ,\r
+sandwiched it between two rounds of bread , and thrusting this\r
+rude meal into his pocket he started off upon his expedition .\r
+\r
+I had just finished my tea when he returned , evidently in\r
+excellent spirits , swinging an old elastic - sided boot in his\r
+hand . He chucked it down into a corner and helped himself to a\r
+cup of tea .\r
+\r
+" I only looked in as I passed " said he . " I am going right on "\r
+\r
+" Where to "\r
+\r
+" Oh , to the other side of the West End . It may be some time\r
+before I get back . Don't wait up for me in case I should be\r
+late "\r
+\r
+" How are you getting on "\r
+\r
+" Oh , so so . Nothing to complain of . I have been out to Streatham\r
+since I saw you last , but I did not call at the house . It is a\r
+very sweet little problem , and I would not have missed it for a\r
+good deal . However , I must not sit gossiping here , but must get\r
+these disreputable clothes off and return to my highly\r
+respectable self "\r
+\r
+I could see by his manner that he had stronger reasons for\r
+satisfaction than his words alone would imply . His eyes twinkled ,\r
+and there was even a touch of colour upon his sallow cheeks . He\r
+hastened upstairs , and a few minutes later I heard the slam of\r
+the hall door , which told me that he was off once more upon his\r
+congenial hunt .\r
+\r
+I waited until midnight , but there was no sign of his return , so\r
+I retired to my room . It was no uncommon thing for him to be away\r
+for days and nights on end when he was hot upon a scent , so that\r
+his lateness caused me no surprise . I do not know at what hour he\r
+came in , but when I came down to breakfast in the morning there\r
+he was with a cup of coffee in one hand and the paper in the\r
+other , as fresh and trim as possible .\r
+\r
+" You will excuse my beginning without you , Watson " said he , " but\r
+you remember that our client has rather an early appointment this\r
+morning "\r
+\r
+" Why , it is after nine now " I answered . " I should not be\r
+surprised if that were he . I thought I heard a ring "\r
+\r
+It was , indeed , our friend the financier . I was shocked by the\r
+change which had come over him , for his face which was naturally\r
+of a broad and massive mould , was now pinched and fallen in ,\r
+while his hair seemed to me at least a shade whiter . He entered\r
+with a weariness and lethargy which was even more painful than\r
+his violence of the morning before , and he dropped heavily into\r
+the armchair which I pushed forward for him .\r
+\r
+" I do not know what I have done to be so severely tried " said\r
+he . " Only two days ago I was a happy and prosperous man , without\r
+a care in the world . Now I am left to a lonely and dishonoured\r
+age . One sorrow comes close upon the heels of another . My niece ,\r
+Mary , has deserted me "\r
+\r
+" Deserted you "\r
+\r
+" Yes . Her bed this morning had not been slept in , her room was\r
+empty , and a note for me lay upon the hall table . I had said to\r
+her last night , in sorrow and not in anger , that if she had\r
+married my boy all might have been well with him . Perhaps it was\r
+thoughtless of me to say so . It is to that remark that she refers\r
+in this note :\r
+\r
+ ' MY DEAREST UNCLE -- I feel that I have brought trouble upon you ,\r
+and that if I had acted differently this terrible misfortune\r
+might never have occurred . I cannot , with this thought in my\r
+mind , ever again be happy under your roof , and I feel that I must\r
+leave you forever . Do not worry about my future , for that is\r
+provided for ; and , above all , do not search for me , for it will\r
+be fruitless labour and an ill - service to me . In life or in\r
+death , I am ever your loving -- MARY '\r
+\r
+" What could she mean by that note , Mr . Holmes ? Do you think it\r
+points to suicide "\r
+\r
+" No , no , nothing of the kind . It is perhaps the best possible\r
+solution . I trust , Mr . Holder , that you are nearing the end of\r
+your troubles "\r
+\r
+" Ha ! You say so ! You have heard something , Mr . Holmes ; you have\r
+learned something ! Where are the gems "\r
+\r
+" You would not think 1000 pounds apiece an excessive sum for\r
+them "\r
+\r
+" I would pay ten "\r
+\r
+" That would be unnecessary . Three thousand will cover the matter .\r
+And there is a little reward , I fancy . Have you your check - book ?\r
+Here is a pen . Better make it out for 4000 pounds "\r
+\r
+With a dazed face the banker made out the required check . Holmes\r
+walked over to his desk , took out a little triangular piece of\r
+gold with three gems in it , and threw it down upon the table .\r
+\r
+With a shriek of joy our client clutched it up .\r
+\r
+" You have it " he gasped . " I am saved ! I am saved "\r
+\r
+The reaction of joy was as passionate as his grief had been , and\r
+he hugged his recovered gems to his bosom .\r
+\r
+" There is one other thing you owe , Mr . Holder " said Sherlock\r
+Holmes rather sternly .\r
+\r
+" Owe " He caught up a pen . " Name the sum , and I will pay it "\r
+\r
+" No , the debt is not to me . You owe a very humble apology to that\r
+noble lad , your son , who has carried himself in this matter as I\r
+should be proud to see my own son do , should I ever chance to\r
+have one "\r
+\r
+" Then it was not Arthur who took them "\r
+\r
+" I told you yesterday , and I repeat to - day , that it was not "\r
+\r
+" You are sure of it ! Then let us hurry to him at once to let him\r
+know that the truth is known "\r
+\r
+" He knows it already . When I had cleared it all up I had an\r
+interview with him , and finding that he would not tell me the\r
+story , I told it to him , on which he had to confess that I was\r
+right and to add the very few details which were not yet quite\r
+clear to me . Your news of this morning , however , may open his\r
+lips "\r
+\r
+" For heaven's sake , tell me , then , what is this extraordinary\r
+mystery "\r
+\r
+" I will do so , and I will show you the steps by which I reached\r
+it . And let me say to you , first , that which it is hardest for me\r
+to say and for you to hear : there has been an understanding\r
+between Sir George Burnwell and your niece Mary . They have now\r
+fled together "\r
+\r
+" My Mary ? Impossible "\r
+\r
+" It is unfortunately more than possible ; it is certain . Neither\r
+you nor your son knew the true character of this man when you\r
+admitted him into your family circle . He is one of the most\r
+dangerous men in England - a ruined gambler , an absolutely\r
+desperate villain , a man without heart or conscience . Your niece\r
+knew nothing of such men . When he breathed his vows to her , as he\r
+had done to a hundred before her , she flattered herself that she\r
+alone had touched his heart . The devil knows best what he said ,\r
+but at least she became his tool and was in the habit of seeing\r
+him nearly every evening "\r
+\r
+" I cannot , and I will not , believe it " cried the banker with an\r
+ashen face .\r
+\r
+" I will tell you , then , what occurred in your house last night .\r
+Your niece , when you had , as she thought , gone to your room ,\r
+slipped down and talked to her lover through the window which\r
+leads into the stable lane . His footmarks had pressed right\r
+through the snow , so long had he stood there . She told him of the\r
+coronet . His wicked lust for gold kindled at the news , and he\r
+bent her to his will . I have no doubt that she loved you , but\r
+there are women in whom the love of a lover extinguishes all\r
+other loves , and I think that she must have been one . She had\r
+hardly listened to his instructions when she saw you coming\r
+downstairs , on which she closed the window rapidly and told you\r
+about one of the servants ' escapade with her wooden - legged lover ,\r
+which was all perfectly true .\r
+\r
+" Your boy , Arthur , went to bed after his interview with you but\r
+he slept badly on account of his uneasiness about his club debts .\r
+In the middle of the night he heard a soft tread pass his door ,\r
+so he rose and , looking out , was surprised to see his cousin\r
+walking very stealthily along the passage until she disappeared\r
+into your dressing - room . Petrified with astonishment , the lad\r
+slipped on some clothes and waited there in the dark to see what\r
+would come of this strange affair . Presently she emerged from the\r
+room again , and in the light of the passage - lamp your son saw\r
+that she carried the precious coronet in her hands . She passed\r
+down the stairs , and he , thrilling with horror , ran along and\r
+slipped behind the curtain near your door , whence he could see\r
+what passed in the hall beneath . He saw her stealthily open the\r
+window , hand out the coronet to someone in the gloom , and then\r
+closing it once more hurry back to her room , passing quite close\r
+to where he stood hid behind the curtain .\r
+\r
+" As long as she was on the scene he could not take any action\r
+without a horrible exposure of the woman whom he loved . But the\r
+instant that she was gone he realised how crushing a misfortune\r
+this would be for you , and how all - important it was to set it\r
+right . He rushed down , just as he was , in his bare feet , opened\r
+the window , sprang out into the snow , and ran down the lane ,\r
+where he could see a dark figure in the moonlight . Sir George\r
+Burnwell tried to get away , but Arthur caught him , and there was\r
+a struggle between them , your lad tugging at one side of the\r
+coronet , and his opponent at the other . In the scuffle , your son\r
+struck Sir George and cut him over the eye . Then something\r
+suddenly snapped , and your son , finding that he had the coronet\r
+in his hands , rushed back , closed the window , ascended to your\r
+room , and had just observed that the coronet had been twisted in\r
+the struggle and was endeavouring to straighten it when you\r
+appeared upon the scene "\r
+\r
+" Is it possible " gasped the banker .\r
+\r
+" You then roused his anger by calling him names at a moment when\r
+he felt that he had deserved your warmest thanks . He could not\r
+explain the true state of affairs without betraying one who\r
+certainly deserved little enough consideration at his hands . He\r
+took the more chivalrous view , however , and preserved her\r
+secret "\r
+\r
+" And that was why she shrieked and fainted when she saw the\r
+coronet " cried Mr . Holder . " Oh , my God ! what a blind fool I have\r
+been ! And his asking to be allowed to go out for five minutes !\r
+The dear fellow wanted to see if the missing piece were at the\r
+scene of the struggle . How cruelly I have misjudged him "\r
+\r
+" When I arrived at the house " continued Holmes , " I at once went\r
+very carefully round it to observe if there were any traces in\r
+the snow which might help me . I knew that none had fallen since\r
+the evening before , and also that there had been a strong frost\r
+to preserve impressions . I passed along the tradesmen's path , but\r
+found it all trampled down and indistinguishable . Just beyond it ,\r
+however , at the far side of the kitchen door , a woman had stood\r
+and talked with a man , whose round impressions on one side showed\r
+that he had a wooden leg . I could even tell that they had been\r
+disturbed , for the woman had run back swiftly to the door , as was\r
+shown by the deep toe and light heel marks , while Wooden - leg had\r
+waited a little , and then had gone away . I thought at the time\r
+that this might be the maid and her sweetheart , of whom you had\r
+already spoken to me , and inquiry showed it was so . I passed\r
+round the garden without seeing anything more than random tracks ,\r
+which I took to be the police ; but when I got into the stable\r
+lane a very long and complex story was written in the snow in\r
+front of me .\r
+\r
+" There was a double line of tracks of a booted man , and a second\r
+double line which I saw with delight belonged to a man with naked\r
+feet . I was at once convinced from what you had told me that the\r
+latter was your son . The first had walked both ways , but the\r
+other had run swiftly , and as his tread was marked in places over\r
+the depression of the boot , it was obvious that he had passed\r
+after the other . I followed them up and found they led to the\r
+hall window , where Boots had worn all the snow away while\r
+waiting . Then I walked to the other end , which was a hundred\r
+yards or more down the lane . I saw where Boots had faced round ,\r
+where the snow was cut up as though there had been a struggle ,\r
+and , finally , where a few drops of blood had fallen , to show me\r
+that I was not mistaken . Boots had then run down the lane , and\r
+another little smudge of blood showed that it was he who had been\r
+hurt . When he came to the highroad at the other end , I found that\r
+the pavement had been cleared , so there was an end to that clue .\r
+\r
+" On entering the house , however , I examined , as you remember , the\r
+sill and framework of the hall window with my lens , and I could\r
+at once see that someone had passed out . I could distinguish the\r
+outline of an instep where the wet foot had been placed in coming\r
+in . I was then beginning to be able to form an opinion as to what\r
+had occurred . A man had waited outside the window ; someone had\r
+brought the gems ; the deed had been overseen by your son ; he had\r
+pursued the thief ; had struggled with him ; they had each tugged\r
+at the coronet , their united strength causing injuries which\r
+neither alone could have effected . He had returned with the\r
+prize , but had left a fragment in the grasp of his opponent . So\r
+far I was clear . The question now was , who was the man and who\r
+was it brought him the coronet ?\r
+\r
+" It is an old maxim of mine that when you have excluded the\r
+impossible , whatever remains , however improbable , must be the\r
+truth . Now , I knew that it was not you who had brought it down ,\r
+so there only remained your niece and the maids . But if it were\r
+the maids , why should your son allow himself to be accused in\r
+their place ? There could be no possible reason . As he loved his\r
+cousin , however , there was an excellent explanation why he should\r
+retain her secret - the more so as the secret was a disgraceful\r
+one . When I remembered that you had seen her at that window , and\r
+how she had fainted on seeing the coronet again , my conjecture\r
+became a certainty .\r
+\r
+" And who could it be who was her confederate ? A lover evidently ,\r
+for who else could outweigh the love and gratitude which she must\r
+feel to you ? I knew that you went out little , and that your\r
+circle of friends was a very limited one . But among them was Sir\r
+George Burnwell . I had heard of him before as being a man of evil\r
+reputation among women . It must have been he who wore those boots\r
+and retained the missing gems . Even though he knew that Arthur\r
+had discovered him , he might still flatter himself that he was\r
+safe , for the lad could not say a word without compromising his\r
+own family .\r
+\r
+" Well , your own good sense will suggest what measures I took\r
+next . I went in the shape of a loafer to Sir George's house ,\r
+managed to pick up an acquaintance with his valet , learned that\r
+his master had cut his head the night before , and , finally , at\r
+the expense of six shillings , made all sure by buying a pair of\r
+his cast - off shoes . With these I journeyed down to Streatham and\r
+saw that they exactly fitted the tracks "\r
+\r
+" I saw an ill - dressed vagabond in the lane yesterday evening "\r
+said Mr . Holder .\r
+\r
+" Precisely . It was I . I found that I had my man , so I came home\r
+and changed my clothes . It was a delicate part which I had to\r
+play then , for I saw that a prosecution must be avoided to avert\r
+scandal , and I knew that so astute a villain would see that our\r
+hands were tied in the matter . I went and saw him . At first , of\r
+course , he denied everything . But when I gave him every\r
+particular that had occurred , he tried to bluster and took down a\r
+life - preserver from the wall . I knew my man , however , and I\r
+clapped a pistol to his head before he could strike . Then he\r
+became a little more reasonable . I told him that we would give\r
+him a price for the stones he held - 1000 pounds apiece . That\r
+brought out the first signs of grief that he had shown . ' Why ,\r
+dash it all ' said he , ' I ' ve let them go at six hundred for the\r
+three ' I soon managed to get the address of the receiver who had\r
+them , on promising him that there would be no prosecution . Off I\r
+set to him , and after much chaffering I got our stones at 1000\r
+pounds apiece . Then I looked in upon your son , told him that all\r
+was right , and eventually got to my bed about two o'clock , after\r
+what I may call a really hard day's work "\r
+\r
+" A day which has saved England from a great public scandal " said\r
+the banker , rising . " Sir , I cannot find words to thank you , but\r
+you shall not find me ungrateful for what you have done . Your\r
+skill has indeed exceeded all that I have heard of it . And now I\r
+must fly to my dear boy to apologise to him for the wrong which I\r
+have done him . As to what you tell me of poor Mary , it goes to my\r
+very heart . Not even your skill can inform me where she is now "\r
+\r
+" I think that we may safely say " returned Holmes , " that she is\r
+wherever Sir George Burnwell is . It is equally certain , too , that\r
+whatever her sins are , they will soon receive a more than\r
+sufficient punishment "\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+XII . THE ADVENTURE OF THE COPPER BEECHES\r
+\r
+" To the man who loves art for its own sake " remarked Sherlock\r
+Holmes , tossing aside the advertisement sheet of the Daily\r
+Telegraph , " it is frequently in its least important and lowliest\r
+manifestations that the keenest pleasure is to be derived . It is\r
+pleasant to me to observe , Watson , that you have so far grasped\r
+this truth that in these little records of our cases which you\r
+have been good enough to draw up , and , I am bound to say ,\r
+occasionally to embellish , you have given prominence not so much\r
+to the many causes celebres and sensational trials in which I\r
+have figured but rather to those incidents which may have been\r
+trivial in themselves , but which have given room for those\r
+faculties of deduction and of logical synthesis which I have made\r
+my special province "\r
+\r
+" And yet " said I , smiling , " I cannot quite hold myself absolved\r
+from the charge of sensationalism which has been urged against my\r
+records "\r
+\r
+" You have erred , perhaps " he observed , taking up a glowing\r
+cinder with the tongs and lighting with it the long cherry - wood\r
+pipe which was wont to replace his clay when he was in a\r
+disputatious rather than a meditative mood -" you have erred\r
+perhaps in attempting to put colour and life into each of your\r
+statements instead of confining yourself to the task of placing\r
+upon record that severe reasoning from cause to effect which is\r
+really the only notable feature about the thing "\r
+\r
+" It seems to me that I have done you full justice in the matter "\r
+I remarked with some coldness , for I was repelled by the egotism\r
+which I had more than once observed to be a strong factor in my\r
+friend's singular character .\r
+\r
+" No , it is not selfishness or conceit " said he , answering , as\r
+was his wont , my thoughts rather than my words . " If I claim full\r
+justice for my art , it is because it is an impersonal thing - a\r
+thing beyond myself . Crime is common . Logic is rare . Therefore it\r
+is upon the logic rather than upon the crime that you should\r
+dwell . You have degraded what should have been a course of\r
+lectures into a series of tales "\r
+\r
+It was a cold morning of the early spring , and we sat after\r
+breakfast on either side of a cheery fire in the old room at\r
+Baker Street . A thick fog rolled down between the lines of\r
+dun - coloured houses , and the opposing windows loomed like dark ,\r
+shapeless blurs through the heavy yellow wreaths . Our gas was lit\r
+and shone on the white cloth and glimmer of china and metal , for\r
+the table had not been cleared yet . Sherlock Holmes had been\r
+silent all the morning , dipping continuously into the\r
+advertisement columns of a succession of papers until at last ,\r
+having apparently given up his search , he had emerged in no very\r
+sweet temper to lecture me upon my literary shortcomings .\r
+\r
+" At the same time " he remarked after a pause , during which he\r
+had sat puffing at his long pipe and gazing down into the fire ,\r
+" you can hardly be open to a charge of sensationalism , for out of\r
+these cases which you have been so kind as to interest yourself\r
+in , a fair proportion do not treat of crime , in its legal sense ,\r
+at all . The small matter in which I endeavoured to help the King\r
+of Bohemia , the singular experience of Miss Mary Sutherland , the\r
+problem connected with the man with the twisted lip , and the\r
+incident of the noble bachelor , were all matters which are\r
+outside the pale of the law . But in avoiding the sensational , I\r
+fear that you may have bordered on the trivial "\r
+\r
+" The end may have been so " I answered , " but the methods I hold\r
+to have been novel and of interest "\r
+\r
+" Pshaw , my dear fellow , what do the public , the great unobservant\r
+public , who could hardly tell a weaver by his tooth or a\r
+compositor by his left thumb , care about the finer shades of\r
+analysis and deduction ! But , indeed , if you are trivial , I cannot\r
+blame you , for the days of the great cases are past . Man , or at\r
+least criminal man , has lost all enterprise and originality . As\r
+to my own little practice , it seems to be degenerating into an\r
+agency for recovering lost lead pencils and giving advice to\r
+young ladies from boarding - schools . I think that I have touched\r
+bottom at last , however . This note I had this morning marks my\r
+zero - point , I fancy . Read it " He tossed a crumpled letter across\r
+to me .\r
+\r
+It was dated from Montague Place upon the preceding evening , and\r
+ran thus :\r
+\r
+" DEAR MR . HOLMES -- I am very anxious to consult you as to whether\r
+I should or should not accept a situation which has been offered\r
+to me as governess . I shall call at half - past ten to - morrow if I\r
+do not inconvenience you . Yours faithfully ,\r
+ " VIOLET HUNTER "\r
+\r
+" Do you know the young lady " I asked .\r
+\r
+" Not I "\r
+\r
+" It is half - past ten now "\r
+\r
+" Yes , and I have no doubt that is her ring "\r
+\r
+" It may turn out to be of more interest than you think . You\r
+remember that the affair of the blue carbuncle , which appeared to\r
+be a mere whim at first , developed into a serious investigation .\r
+It may be so in this case , also "\r
+\r
+" Well , let us hope so . But our doubts will very soon be solved ,\r
+for here , unless I am much mistaken , is the person in question "\r
+\r
+As he spoke the door opened and a young lady entered the room .\r
+She was plainly but neatly dressed , with a bright , quick face ,\r
+freckled like a plover's egg , and with the brisk manner of a\r
+woman who has had her own way to make in the world .\r
+\r
+" You will excuse my troubling you , I am sure " said she , as my\r
+companion rose to greet her , " but I have had a very strange\r
+experience , and as I have no parents or relations of any sort\r
+from whom I could ask advice , I thought that perhaps you would be\r
+kind enough to tell me what I should do "\r
+\r
+" Pray take a seat , Miss Hunter . I shall be happy to do anything\r
+that I can to serve you "\r
+\r
+I could see that Holmes was favourably impressed by the manner\r
+and speech of his new client . He looked her over in his searching\r
+fashion , and then composed himself , with his lids drooping and\r
+his finger - tips together , to listen to her story .\r
+\r
+" I have been a governess for five years " said she , " in the\r
+family of Colonel Spence Munro , but two months ago the colonel\r
+received an appointment at Halifax , in Nova Scotia , and took his\r
+children over to America with him , so that I found myself without\r
+a situation . I advertised , and I answered advertisements , but\r
+without success . At last the little money which I had saved began\r
+to run short , and I was at my wit's end as to what I should do .\r
+\r
+" There is a well - known agency for governesses in the West End\r
+called Westaway's , and there I used to call about once a week in\r
+order to see whether anything had turned up which might suit me .\r
+Westaway was the name of the founder of the business , but it is\r
+really managed by Miss Stoper . She sits in her own little office ,\r
+and the ladies who are seeking employment wait in an anteroom ,\r
+and are then shown in one by one , when she consults her ledgers\r
+and sees whether she has anything which would suit them .\r
+\r
+" Well , when I called last week I was shown into the little office\r
+as usual , but I found that Miss Stoper was not alone . A\r
+prodigiously stout man with a very smiling face and a great heavy\r
+chin which rolled down in fold upon fold over his throat sat at\r
+her elbow with a pair of glasses on his nose , looking very\r
+earnestly at the ladies who entered . As I came in he gave quite a\r
+jump in his chair and turned quickly to Miss Stoper .\r
+\r
+ ' That will do ' said he ; ' I could not ask for anything better .\r
+Capital ! capital ' He seemed quite enthusiastic and rubbed his\r
+hands together in the most genial fashion . He was such a\r
+comfortable - looking man that it was quite a pleasure to look at\r
+him .\r
+\r
+ ' You are looking for a situation , miss ' he asked .\r
+\r
+ ' Yes , sir '\r
+\r
+ ' As governess '\r
+\r
+ ' Yes , sir '\r
+\r
+ ' And what salary do you ask '\r
+\r
+ ' I had 4 pounds a month in my last place with Colonel Spence\r
+Munro '\r
+\r
+ ' Oh , tut , tut ! sweating - rank sweating ' he cried , throwing his\r
+fat hands out into the air like a man who is in a boiling\r
+passion . ' How could anyone offer so pitiful a sum to a lady with\r
+such attractions and accomplishments '\r
+\r
+ ' My accomplishments , sir , may be less than you imagine ' said I .\r
+' A little French , a little German , music , and drawing -'\r
+\r
+ ' Tut , tut ' he cried . ' This is all quite beside the question .\r
+The point is , have you or have you not the bearing and deportment\r
+of a lady ? There it is in a nutshell . If you have not , you are\r
+not fitted for the rearing of a child who may some day play a\r
+considerable part in the history of the country . But if you have\r
+why , then , how could any gentleman ask you to condescend to\r
+accept anything under the three figures ? Your salary with me ,\r
+madam , would commence at 100 pounds a year '\r
+\r
+" You may imagine , Mr . Holmes , that to me , destitute as I was ,\r
+such an offer seemed almost too good to be true . The gentleman ,\r
+however , seeing perhaps the look of incredulity upon my face ,\r
+opened a pocket - book and took out a note .\r
+\r
+ ' It is also my custom ' said he , smiling in the most pleasant\r
+fashion until his eyes were just two little shining slits amid\r
+the white creases of his face , ' to advance to my young ladies\r
+half their salary beforehand , so that they may meet any little\r
+expenses of their journey and their wardrobe '\r
+\r
+" It seemed to me that I had never met so fascinating and so\r
+thoughtful a man . As I was already in debt to my tradesmen , the\r
+advance was a great convenience , and yet there was something\r
+unnatural about the whole transaction which made me wish to know\r
+a little more before I quite committed myself .\r
+\r
+ ' May I ask where you live , sir ' said I .\r
+\r
+ ' Hampshire . Charming rural place . The Copper Beeches , five miles\r
+on the far side of Winchester . It is the most lovely country , my\r
+dear young lady , and the dearest old country - house '\r
+\r
+ ' And my duties , sir ? I should be glad to know what they would\r
+be '\r
+\r
+ ' One child - one dear little romper just six years old . Oh , if\r
+you could see him killing cockroaches with a slipper ! Smack !\r
+smack ! smack ! Three gone before you could wink ' He leaned back\r
+in his chair and laughed his eyes into his head again .\r
+\r
+" I was a little startled at the nature of the child's amusement ,\r
+but the father's laughter made me think that perhaps he was\r
+joking .\r
+\r
+ ' My sole duties , then ' I asked , ' are to take charge of a single\r
+child '\r
+\r
+ ' No , no , not the sole , not the sole , my dear young lady ' he\r
+cried . ' Your duty would be , as I am sure your good sense would\r
+suggest , to obey any little commands my wife might give , provided\r
+always that they were such commands as a lady might with\r
+propriety obey . You see no difficulty , heh '\r
+\r
+ ' I should be happy to make myself useful '\r
+\r
+ ' Quite so . In dress now , for example . We are faddy people , you\r
+know - faddy but kind - hearted . If you were asked to wear any dress\r
+which we might give you , you would not object to our little whim .\r
+Heh '\r
+\r
+ ' No ' said I , considerably astonished at his words .\r
+\r
+ ' Or to sit here , or sit there , that would not be offensive to\r
+you '\r
+\r
+ ' Oh , no '\r
+\r
+ ' Or to cut your hair quite short before you come to us '\r
+\r
+" I could hardly believe my ears . As you may observe , Mr . Holmes ,\r
+my hair is somewhat luxuriant , and of a rather peculiar tint of\r
+chestnut . It has been considered artistic . I could not dream of\r
+sacrificing it in this offhand fashion .\r
+\r
+ ' I am afraid that that is quite impossible ' said I . He had been\r
+watching me eagerly out of his small eyes , and I could see a\r
+shadow pass over his face as I spoke .\r
+\r
+ ' I am afraid that it is quite essential ' said he . ' It is a\r
+little fancy of my wife's , and ladies ' fancies , you know , madam ,\r
+ladies ' fancies must be consulted . And so you won't cut your\r
+hair '\r
+\r
+ ' No , sir , I really could not ' I answered firmly .\r
+\r
+ ' Ah , very well ; then that quite settles the matter . It is a\r
+pity , because in other respects you would really have done very\r
+nicely . In that case , Miss Stoper , I had best inspect a few more\r
+of your young ladies '\r
+\r
+" The manageress had sat all this while busy with her papers\r
+without a word to either of us , but she glanced at me now with so\r
+much annoyance upon her face that I could not help suspecting\r
+that she had lost a handsome commission through my refusal .\r
+\r
+ ' Do you desire your name to be kept upon the books ' she asked .\r
+\r
+ ' If you please , Miss Stoper '\r
+\r
+ ' Well , really , it seems rather useless , since you refuse the\r
+most excellent offers in this fashion ' said she sharply . ' You\r
+can hardly expect us to exert ourselves to find another such\r
+opening for you . Good - day to you , Miss Hunter ' She struck a gong\r
+upon the table , and I was shown out by the page .\r
+\r
+" Well , Mr . Holmes , when I got back to my lodgings and found\r
+little enough in the cupboard , and two or three bills upon the\r
+table , I began to ask myself whether I had not done a very\r
+foolish thing . After all , if these people had strange fads and\r
+expected obedience on the most extraordinary matters , they were\r
+at least ready to pay for their eccentricity . Very few\r
+governesses in England are getting 100 pounds a year . Besides ,\r
+what use was my hair to me ? Many people are improved by wearing\r
+it short and perhaps I should be among the number . Next day I was\r
+inclined to think that I had made a mistake , and by the day after\r
+I was sure of it . I had almost overcome my pride so far as to go\r
+back to the agency and inquire whether the place was still open\r
+when I received this letter from the gentleman himself . I have it\r
+here and I will read it to you :\r
+\r
+ " ' The Copper Beeches , near Winchester .\r
+ ' DEAR MISS HUNTER -- Miss Stoper has very kindly given me your\r
+address , and I write from here to ask you whether you have\r
+reconsidered your decision . My wife is very anxious that you\r
+should come , for she has been much attracted by my description of\r
+you . We are willing to give 30 pounds a quarter , or 120 pounds a\r
+year , so as to recompense you for any little inconvenience which\r
+our fads may cause you . They are not very exacting , after all . My\r
+wife is fond of a particular shade of electric blue and would\r
+like you to wear such a dress indoors in the morning . You need\r
+not , however , go to the expense of purchasing one , as we have one\r
+belonging to my dear daughter Alice ( now in Philadelphia , which\r
+would , I should think , fit you very well . Then , as to sitting\r
+here or there , or amusing yourself in any manner indicated , that\r
+need cause you no inconvenience . As regards your hair , it is no\r
+doubt a pity , especially as I could not help remarking its beauty\r
+during our short interview , but I am afraid that I must remain\r
+firm upon this point , and I only hope that the increased salary\r
+may recompense you for the loss . Your duties , as far as the child\r
+is concerned , are very light . Now do try to come , and I shall\r
+meet you with the dog - cart at Winchester . Let me know your train .\r
+Yours faithfully , JEPHRO RUCASTLE '\r
+\r
+" That is the letter which I have just received , Mr . Holmes , and\r
+my mind is made up that I will accept it . I thought , however ,\r
+that before taking the final step I should like to submit the\r
+whole matter to your consideration "\r
+\r
+" Well , Miss Hunter , if your mind is made up , that settles the\r
+question " said Holmes , smiling .\r
+\r
+" But you would not advise me to refuse "\r
+\r
+" I confess that it is not the situation which I should like to\r
+see a sister of mine apply for "\r
+\r
+" What is the meaning of it all , Mr . Holmes "\r
+\r
+" Ah , I have no data . I cannot tell . Perhaps you have yourself\r
+formed some opinion "\r
+\r
+" Well , there seems to me to be only one possible solution . Mr .\r
+Rucastle seemed to be a very kind , good - natured man . Is it not\r
+possible that his wife is a lunatic , that he desires to keep the\r
+matter quiet for fear she should be taken to an asylum , and that\r
+he humours her fancies in every way in order to prevent an\r
+outbreak "\r
+\r
+" That is a possible solution - in fact , as matters stand , it is\r
+the most probable one . But in any case it does not seem to be a\r
+nice household for a young lady "\r
+\r
+" But the money , Mr . Holmes , the money "\r
+\r
+" Well , yes , of course the pay is good - too good . That is what\r
+makes me uneasy . Why should they give you 120 pounds a year , when\r
+they could have their pick for 40 pounds ? There must be some\r
+strong reason behind "\r
+\r
+" I thought that if I told you the circumstances you would\r
+understand afterwards if I wanted your help . I should feel so\r
+much stronger if I felt that you were at the back of me "\r
+\r
+" Oh , you may carry that feeling away with you . I assure you that\r
+your little problem promises to be the most interesting which has\r
+come my way for some months . There is something distinctly novel\r
+about some of the features . If you should find yourself in doubt\r
+or in danger -"\r
+\r
+" Danger ! What danger do you foresee "\r
+\r
+Holmes shook his head gravely . " It would cease to be a danger if\r
+we could define it " said he . " But at any time , day or night , a\r
+telegram would bring me down to your help "\r
+\r
+" That is enough " She rose briskly from her chair with the\r
+anxiety all swept from her face . " I shall go down to Hampshire\r
+quite easy in my mind now . I shall write to Mr . Rucastle at once ,\r
+sacrifice my poor hair to - night , and start for Winchester\r
+to - morrow " With a few grateful words to Holmes she bade us both\r
+good - night and bustled off upon her way .\r
+\r
+" At least " said I as we heard her quick , firm steps descending\r
+the stairs , " she seems to be a young lady who is very well able\r
+to take care of herself "\r
+\r
+" And she would need to be " said Holmes gravely . " I am much\r
+mistaken if we do not hear from her before many days are past "\r
+\r
+It was not very long before my friend's prediction was fulfilled .\r
+A fortnight went by , during which I frequently found my thoughts\r
+turning in her direction and wondering what strange side - alley of\r
+human experience this lonely woman had strayed into . The unusual\r
+salary , the curious conditions , the light duties , all pointed to\r
+something abnormal , though whether a fad or a plot , or whether\r
+the man were a philanthropist or a villain , it was quite beyond\r
+my powers to determine . As to Holmes , I observed that he sat\r
+frequently for half an hour on end , with knitted brows and an\r
+abstracted air , but he swept the matter away with a wave of his\r
+hand when I mentioned it . " Data ! data ! data " he cried\r
+impatiently . " I can't make bricks without clay " And yet he would\r
+always wind up by muttering that no sister of his should ever\r
+have accepted such a situation .\r
+\r
+The telegram which we eventually received came late one night\r
+just as I was thinking of turning in and Holmes was settling down\r
+to one of those all - night chemical researches which he frequently\r
+indulged in , when I would leave him stooping over a retort and a\r
+test - tube at night and find him in the same position when I came\r
+down to breakfast in the morning . He opened the yellow envelope ,\r
+and then , glancing at the message , threw it across to me .\r
+\r
+" Just look up the trains in Bradshaw " said he , and turned back\r
+to his chemical studies .\r
+\r
+The summons was a brief and urgent one .\r
+\r
+" Please be at the Black Swan Hotel at Winchester at midday\r
+to - morrow " it said . " Do come ! I am at my wit's end . HUNTER "\r
+\r
+" Will you come with me " asked Holmes , glancing up .\r
+\r
+" I should wish to "\r
+\r
+" Just look it up , then "\r
+\r
+" There is a train at half - past nine " said I , glancing over my\r
+Bradshaw . " It is due at Winchester at 11 : 30 "\r
+\r
+" That will do very nicely . Then perhaps I had better postpone my\r
+analysis of the acetones , as we may need to be at our best in the\r
+morning "\r
+\r
+By eleven o'clock the next day we were well upon our way to the\r
+old English capital . Holmes had been buried in the morning papers\r
+all the way down , but after we had passed the Hampshire border he\r
+threw them down and began to admire the scenery . It was an ideal\r
+spring day , a light blue sky , flecked with little fleecy white\r
+clouds drifting across from west to east . The sun was shining\r
+very brightly , and yet there was an exhilarating nip in the air ,\r
+which set an edge to a man's energy . All over the countryside ,\r
+away to the rolling hills around Aldershot , the little red and\r
+grey roofs of the farm - steadings peeped out from amid the light\r
+green of the new foliage .\r
+\r
+" Are they not fresh and beautiful " I cried with all the\r
+enthusiasm of a man fresh from the fogs of Baker Street .\r
+\r
+But Holmes shook his head gravely .\r
+\r
+" Do you know , Watson " said he , " that it is one of the curses of\r
+a mind with a turn like mine that I must look at everything with\r
+reference to my own special subject . You look at these scattered\r
+houses , and you are impressed by their beauty . I look at them ,\r
+and the only thought which comes to me is a feeling of their\r
+isolation and of the impunity with which crime may be committed\r
+there "\r
+\r
+" Good heavens " I cried . " Who would associate crime with these\r
+dear old homesteads "\r
+\r
+" They always fill me with a certain horror . It is my belief ,\r
+Watson , founded upon my experience , that the lowest and vilest\r
+alleys in London do not present a more dreadful record of sin\r
+than does the smiling and beautiful countryside "\r
+\r
+" You horrify me "\r
+\r
+" But the reason is very obvious . The pressure of public opinion\r
+can do in the town what the law cannot accomplish . There is no\r
+lane so vile that the scream of a tortured child , or the thud of\r
+a drunkard's blow , does not beget sympathy and indignation among\r
+the neighbours , and then the whole machinery of justice is ever\r
+so close that a word of complaint can set it going , and there is\r
+but a step between the crime and the dock . But look at these\r
+lonely houses , each in its own fields , filled for the most part\r
+with poor ignorant folk who know little of the law . Think of the\r
+deeds of hellish cruelty , the hidden wickedness which may go on ,\r
+year in , year out , in such places , and none the wiser . Had this\r
+lady who appeals to us for help gone to live in Winchester , I\r
+should never have had a fear for her . It is the five miles of\r
+country which makes the danger . Still , it is clear that she is\r
+not personally threatened "\r
+\r
+" No . If she can come to Winchester to meet us she can get away "\r
+\r
+" Quite so . She has her freedom "\r
+\r
+" What CAN be the matter , then ? Can you suggest no explanation "\r
+\r
+" I have devised seven separate explanations , each of which would\r
+cover the facts as far as we know them . But which of these is\r
+correct can only be determined by the fresh information which we\r
+shall no doubt find waiting for us . Well , there is the tower of\r
+the cathedral , and we shall soon learn all that Miss Hunter has\r
+to tell "\r
+\r
+The Black Swan is an inn of repute in the High Street , at no\r
+distance from the station , and there we found the young lady\r
+waiting for us . She had engaged a sitting - room , and our lunch\r
+awaited us upon the table .\r
+\r
+" I am so delighted that you have come " she said earnestly . " It\r
+is so very kind of you both ; but indeed I do not know what I\r
+should do . Your advice will be altogether invaluable to me "\r
+\r
+" Pray tell us what has happened to you "\r
+\r
+" I will do so , and I must be quick , for I have promised Mr .\r
+Rucastle to be back before three . I got his leave to come into\r
+town this morning , though he little knew for what purpose "\r
+\r
+" Let us have everything in its due order " Holmes thrust his long\r
+thin legs out towards the fire and composed himself to listen .\r
+\r
+" In the first place , I may say that I have met , on the whole ,\r
+with no actual ill - treatment from Mr . and Mrs . Rucastle . It is\r
+only fair to them to say that . But I cannot understand them , and\r
+I am not easy in my mind about them "\r
+\r
+" What can you not understand "\r
+\r
+" Their reasons for their conduct . But you shall have it all just\r
+as it occurred . When I came down , Mr . Rucastle met me here and\r
+drove me in his dog - cart to the Copper Beeches . It is , as he\r
+said , beautifully situated , but it is not beautiful in itself ,\r
+for it is a large square block of a house , whitewashed , but all\r
+stained and streaked with damp and bad weather . There are grounds\r
+round it , woods on three sides , and on the fourth a field which\r
+slopes down to the Southampton highroad , which curves past about\r
+a hundred yards from the front door . This ground in front belongs\r
+to the house , but the woods all round are part of Lord\r
+Southerton's preserves . A clump of copper beeches immediately in\r
+front of the hall door has given its name to the place .\r
+\r
+" I was driven over by my employer , who was as amiable as ever ,\r
+and was introduced by him that evening to his wife and the child .\r
+There was no truth , Mr . Holmes , in the conjecture which seemed to\r
+us to be probable in your rooms at Baker Street . Mrs . Rucastle is\r
+not mad . I found her to be a silent , pale - faced woman , much\r
+younger than her husband , not more than thirty , I should think ,\r
+while he can hardly be less than forty - five . From their\r
+conversation I have gathered that they have been married about\r
+seven years , that he was a widower , and that his only child by\r
+the first wife was the daughter who has gone to Philadelphia . Mr .\r
+Rucastle told me in private that the reason why she had left them\r
+was that she had an unreasoning aversion to her stepmother . As\r
+the daughter could not have been less than twenty , I can quite\r
+imagine that her position must have been uncomfortable with her\r
+father's young wife .\r
+\r
+" Mrs . Rucastle seemed to me to be colourless in mind as well as\r
+in feature . She impressed me neither favourably nor the reverse .\r
+She was a nonentity . It was easy to see that she was passionately\r
+devoted both to her husband and to her little son . Her light grey\r
+eyes wandered continually from one to the other , noting every\r
+little want and forestalling it if possible . He was kind to her\r
+also in his bluff , boisterous fashion , and on the whole they\r
+seemed to be a happy couple . And yet she had some secret sorrow ,\r
+this woman . She would often be lost in deep thought , with the\r
+saddest look upon her face . More than once I have surprised her\r
+in tears . I have thought sometimes that it was the disposition of\r
+her child which weighed upon her mind , for I have never met so\r
+utterly spoiled and so ill - natured a little creature . He is small\r
+for his age , with a head which is quite disproportionately large .\r
+His whole life appears to be spent in an alternation between\r
+savage fits of passion and gloomy intervals of sulking . Giving\r
+pain to any creature weaker than himself seems to be his one idea\r
+of amusement , and he shows quite remarkable talent in planning\r
+the capture of mice , little birds , and insects . But I would\r
+rather not talk about the creature , Mr . Holmes , and , indeed , he\r
+has little to do with my story "\r
+\r
+" I am glad of all details " remarked my friend , " whether they\r
+seem to you to be relevant or not "\r
+\r
+" I shall try not to miss anything of importance . The one\r
+unpleasant thing about the house , which struck me at once , was\r
+the appearance and conduct of the servants . There are only two , a\r
+man and his wife . Toller , for that is his name , is a rough ,\r
+uncouth man , with grizzled hair and whiskers , and a perpetual\r
+smell of drink . Twice since I have been with them he has been\r
+quite drunk , and yet Mr . Rucastle seemed to take no notice of it .\r
+His wife is a very tall and strong woman with a sour face , as\r
+silent as Mrs . Rucastle and much less amiable . They are a most\r
+unpleasant couple , but fortunately I spend most of my time in the\r
+nursery and my own room , which are next to each other in one\r
+corner of the building .\r
+\r
+" For two days after my arrival at the Copper Beeches my life was\r
+very quiet ; on the third , Mrs . Rucastle came down just after\r
+breakfast and whispered something to her husband .\r
+\r
+ ' Oh , yes ' said he , turning to me , ' we are very much obliged to\r
+you , Miss Hunter , for falling in with our whims so far as to cut\r
+your hair . I assure you that it has not detracted in the tiniest\r
+iota from your appearance . We shall now see how the electric - blue\r
+dress will become you . You will find it laid out upon the bed in\r
+your room , and if you would be so good as to put it on we should\r
+both be extremely obliged '\r
+\r
+" The dress which I found waiting for me was of a peculiar shade\r
+of blue . It was of excellent material , a sort of beige , but it\r
+bore unmistakable signs of having been worn before . It could not\r
+have been a better fit if I had been measured for it . Both Mr .\r
+and Mrs . Rucastle expressed a delight at the look of it , which\r
+seemed quite exaggerated in its vehemence . They were waiting for\r
+me in the drawing - room , which is a very large room , stretching\r
+along the entire front of the house , with three long windows\r
+reaching down to the floor . A chair had been placed close to the\r
+central window , with its back turned towards it . In this I was\r
+asked to sit , and then Mr . Rucastle , walking up and down on the\r
+other side of the room , began to tell me a series of the funniest\r
+stories that I have ever listened to . You cannot imagine how\r
+comical he was , and I laughed until I was quite weary . Mrs .\r
+Rucastle , however , who has evidently no sense of humour , never so\r
+much as smiled , but sat with her hands in her lap , and a sad ,\r
+anxious look upon her face . After an hour or so , Mr . Rucastle\r
+suddenly remarked that it was time to commence the duties of the\r
+day , and that I might change my dress and go to little Edward in\r
+the nursery .\r
+\r
+" Two days later this same performance was gone through under\r
+exactly similar circumstances . Again I changed my dress , again I\r
+sat in the window , and again I laughed very heartily at the funny\r
+stories of which my employer had an immense repertoire , and which\r
+he told inimitably . Then he handed me a yellow - backed novel , and\r
+moving my chair a little sideways , that my own shadow might not\r
+fall upon the page , he begged me to read aloud to him . I read for\r
+about ten minutes , beginning in the heart of a chapter , and then\r
+suddenly , in the middle of a sentence , he ordered me to cease and\r
+to change my dress .\r
+\r
+" You can easily imagine , Mr . Holmes , how curious I became as to\r
+what the meaning of this extraordinary performance could possibly\r
+be . They were always very careful , I observed , to turn my face\r
+away from the window , so that I became consumed with the desire\r
+to see what was going on behind my back . At first it seemed to be\r
+impossible , but I soon devised a means . My hand - mirror had been\r
+broken , so a happy thought seized me , and I concealed a piece of\r
+the glass in my handkerchief . On the next occasion , in the midst\r
+of my laughter , I put my handkerchief up to my eyes , and was able\r
+with a little management to see all that there was behind me . I\r
+confess that I was disappointed . There was nothing . At least that\r
+was my first impression . At the second glance , however , I\r
+perceived that there was a man standing in the Southampton Road ,\r
+a small bearded man in a grey suit , who seemed to be looking in\r
+my direction . The road is an important highway , and there are\r
+usually people there . This man , however , was leaning against the\r
+railings which bordered our field and was looking earnestly up . I\r
+lowered my handkerchief and glanced at Mrs . Rucastle to find her\r
+eyes fixed upon me with a most searching gaze . She said nothing ,\r
+but I am convinced that she had divined that I had a mirror in my\r
+hand and had seen what was behind me . She rose at once .\r
+\r
+ ' Jephro ' said she , ' there is an impertinent fellow upon the\r
+road there who stares up at Miss Hunter '\r
+\r
+ ' No friend of yours , Miss Hunter ' he asked .\r
+\r
+ ' No , I know no one in these parts '\r
+\r
+ ' Dear me ! How very impertinent ! Kindly turn round and motion to\r
+him to go away '\r
+\r
+ ' Surely it would be better to take no notice '\r
+\r
+ ' No , no , we should have him loitering here always . Kindly turn\r
+round and wave him away like that '\r
+\r
+" I did as I was told , and at the same instant Mrs . Rucastle drew\r
+down the blind . That was a week ago , and from that time I have\r
+not sat again in the window , nor have I worn the blue dress , nor\r
+seen the man in the road "\r
+\r
+" Pray continue " said Holmes . " Your narrative promises to be a\r
+most interesting one "\r
+\r
+" You will find it rather disconnected , I fear , and there may\r
+prove to be little relation between the different incidents of\r
+which I speak . On the very first day that I was at the Copper\r
+Beeches , Mr . Rucastle took me to a small outhouse which stands\r
+near the kitchen door . As we approached it I heard the sharp\r
+rattling of a chain , and the sound as of a large animal moving\r
+about .\r
+\r
+ ' Look in here ' said Mr . Rucastle , showing me a slit between two\r
+planks . ' Is he not a beauty '\r
+\r
+" I looked through and was conscious of two glowing eyes , and of a\r
+vague figure huddled up in the darkness .\r
+\r
+ ' Don't be frightened ' said my employer , laughing at the start\r
+which I had given . ' It's only Carlo , my mastiff . I call him mine ,\r
+but really old Toller , my groom , is the only man who can do\r
+anything with him . We feed him once a day , and not too much then ,\r
+so that he is always as keen as mustard . Toller lets him loose\r
+every night , and God help the trespasser whom he lays his fangs\r
+upon . For goodness ' sake don't you ever on any pretext set your\r
+foot over the threshold at night , for it's as much as your life\r
+is worth '\r
+\r
+" The warning was no idle one , for two nights later I happened to\r
+look out of my bedroom window about two o'clock in the morning .\r
+It was a beautiful moonlight night , and the lawn in front of the\r
+house was silvered over and almost as bright as day . I was\r
+standing , rapt in the peaceful beauty of the scene , when I was\r
+aware that something was moving under the shadow of the copper\r
+beeches . As it emerged into the moonshine I saw what it was . It\r
+was a giant dog , as large as a calf , tawny tinted , with hanging\r
+jowl , black muzzle , and huge projecting bones . It walked slowly\r
+across the lawn and vanished into the shadow upon the other side .\r
+That dreadful sentinel sent a chill to my heart which I do not\r
+think that any burglar could have done .\r
+\r
+" And now I have a very strange experience to tell you . I had , as\r
+you know , cut off my hair in London , and I had placed it in a\r
+great coil at the bottom of my trunk . One evening , after the\r
+child was in bed , I began to amuse myself by examining the\r
+furniture of my room and by rearranging my own little things .\r
+There was an old chest of drawers in the room , the two upper ones\r
+empty and open , the lower one locked . I had filled the first two\r
+with my linen , and as I had still much to pack away I was\r
+naturally annoyed at not having the use of the third drawer . It\r
+struck me that it might have been fastened by a mere oversight ,\r
+so I took out my bunch of keys and tried to open it . The very\r
+first key fitted to perfection , and I drew the drawer open . There\r
+was only one thing in it , but I am sure that you would never\r
+guess what it was . It was my coil of hair .\r
+\r
+" I took it up and examined it . It was of the same peculiar tint ,\r
+and the same thickness . But then the impossibility of the thing\r
+obtruded itself upon me . How could my hair have been locked in\r
+the drawer ? With trembling hands I undid my trunk , turned out the\r
+contents , and drew from the bottom my own hair . I laid the two\r
+tresses together , and I assure you that they were identical . Was\r
+it not extraordinary ? Puzzle as I would , I could make nothing at\r
+all of what it meant . I returned the strange hair to the drawer ,\r
+and I said nothing of the matter to the Rucastles as I felt that\r
+I had put myself in the wrong by opening a drawer which they had\r
+locked .\r
+\r
+" I am naturally observant , as you may have remarked , Mr . Holmes ,\r
+and I soon had a pretty good plan of the whole house in my head .\r
+There was one wing , however , which appeared not to be inhabited\r
+at all . A door which faced that which led into the quarters of\r
+the Tollers opened into this suite , but it was invariably locked .\r
+One day , however , as I ascended the stair , I met Mr . Rucastle\r
+coming out through this door , his keys in his hand , and a look on\r
+his face which made him a very different person to the round ,\r
+jovial man to whom I was accustomed . His cheeks were red , his\r
+brow was all crinkled with anger , and the veins stood out at his\r
+temples with passion . He locked the door and hurried past me\r
+without a word or a look .\r
+\r
+" This aroused my curiosity , so when I went out for a walk in the\r
+grounds with my charge , I strolled round to the side from which I\r
+could see the windows of this part of the house . There were four\r
+of them in a row , three of which were simply dirty , while the\r
+fourth was shuttered up . They were evidently all deserted . As I\r
+strolled up and down , glancing at them occasionally , Mr . Rucastle\r
+came out to me , looking as merry and jovial as ever .\r
+\r
+ ' Ah ' said he , ' you must not think me rude if I passed you\r
+without a word , my dear young lady . I was preoccupied with\r
+business matters '\r
+\r
+" I assured him that I was not offended . ' By the way ' said I ,\r
+' you seem to have quite a suite of spare rooms up there , and one\r
+of them has the shutters up '\r
+\r
+" He looked surprised and , as it seemed to me , a little startled\r
+at my remark .\r
+\r
+ ' Photography is one of my hobbies ' said he . ' I have made my\r
+dark room up there . But , dear me ! what an observant young lady we\r
+have come upon . Who would have believed it ? Who would have ever\r
+believed it ' He spoke in a jesting tone , but there was no jest\r
+in his eyes as he looked at me . I read suspicion there and\r
+annoyance , but no jest .\r
+\r
+" Well , Mr . Holmes , from the moment that I understood that there\r
+was something about that suite of rooms which I was not to know ,\r
+I was all on fire to go over them . It was not mere curiosity ,\r
+though I have my share of that . It was more a feeling of duty - a\r
+feeling that some good might come from my penetrating to this\r
+place . They talk of woman's instinct ; perhaps it was woman's\r
+instinct which gave me that feeling . At any rate , it was there ,\r
+and I was keenly on the lookout for any chance to pass the\r
+forbidden door .\r
+\r
+" It was only yesterday that the chance came . I may tell you that ,\r
+besides Mr . Rucastle , both Toller and his wife find something to\r
+do in these deserted rooms , and I once saw him carrying a large\r
+black linen bag with him through the door . Recently he has been\r
+drinking hard , and yesterday evening he was very drunk ; and when\r
+I came upstairs there was the key in the door . I have no doubt at\r
+all that he had left it there . Mr . and Mrs . Rucastle were both\r
+downstairs , and the child was with them , so that I had an\r
+admirable opportunity . I turned the key gently in the lock ,\r
+opened the door , and slipped through .\r
+\r
+" There was a little passage in front of me , unpapered and\r
+uncarpeted , which turned at a right angle at the farther end .\r
+Round this corner were three doors in a line , the first and third\r
+of which were open . They each led into an empty room , dusty and\r
+cheerless , with two windows in the one and one in the other , so\r
+thick with dirt that the evening light glimmered dimly through\r
+them . The centre door was closed , and across the outside of it\r
+had been fastened one of the broad bars of an iron bed , padlocked\r
+at one end to a ring in the wall , and fastened at the other with\r
+stout cord . The door itself was locked as well , and the key was\r
+not there . This barricaded door corresponded clearly with the\r
+shuttered window outside , and yet I could see by the glimmer from\r
+beneath it that the room was not in darkness . Evidently there was\r
+a skylight which let in light from above . As I stood in the\r
+passage gazing at the sinister door and wondering what secret it\r
+might veil , I suddenly heard the sound of steps within the room\r
+and saw a shadow pass backward and forward against the little\r
+slit of dim light which shone out from under the door . A mad ,\r
+unreasoning terror rose up in me at the sight , Mr . Holmes . My\r
+overstrung nerves failed me suddenly , and I turned and ran - ran\r
+as though some dreadful hand were behind me clutching at the\r
+skirt of my dress . I rushed down the passage , through the door ,\r
+and straight into the arms of Mr . Rucastle , who was waiting\r
+outside .\r
+\r
+ ' So ' said he , smiling , ' it was you , then . I thought that it\r
+must be when I saw the door open '\r
+\r
+ ' Oh , I am so frightened ' I panted .\r
+\r
+ ' My dear young lady ! my dear young lady ' - you cannot think how\r
+caressing and soothing his manner was - ' and what has frightened\r
+you , my dear young lady '\r
+\r
+" But his voice was just a little too coaxing . He overdid it . I\r
+was keenly on my guard against him .\r
+\r
+ ' I was foolish enough to go into the empty wing ' I answered .\r
+' But it is so lonely and eerie in this dim light that I was\r
+frightened and ran out again . Oh , it is so dreadfully still in\r
+there '\r
+\r
+ ' Only that ' said he , looking at me keenly .\r
+\r
+ ' Why , what did you think ' I asked .\r
+\r
+ ' Why do you think that I lock this door '\r
+\r
+ ' I am sure that I do not know '\r
+\r
+ ' It is to keep people out who have no business there . Do you\r
+see ' He was still smiling in the most amiable manner .\r
+\r
+ ' I am sure if I had known -'\r
+\r
+ ' Well , then , you know now . And if you ever put your foot over\r
+that threshold again -- here in an instant the smile hardened into\r
+a grin of rage , and he glared down at me with the face of a\r
+demon - ' I ' ll throw you to the mastiff '\r
+\r
+" I was so terrified that I do not know what I did . I suppose that\r
+I must have rushed past him into my room . I remember nothing\r
+until I found myself lying on my bed trembling all over . Then I\r
+thought of you , Mr . Holmes . I could not live there longer without\r
+some advice . I was frightened of the house , of the man , of the\r
+woman , of the servants , even of the child . They were all horrible\r
+to me . If I could only bring you down all would be well . Of\r
+course I might have fled from the house , but my curiosity was\r
+almost as strong as my fears . My mind was soon made up . I would\r
+send you a wire . I put on my hat and cloak , went down to the\r
+office , which is about half a mile from the house , and then\r
+returned , feeling very much easier . A horrible doubt came into my\r
+mind as I approached the door lest the dog might be loose , but I\r
+remembered that Toller had drunk himself into a state of\r
+insensibility that evening , and I knew that he was the only one\r
+in the household who had any influence with the savage creature ,\r
+or who would venture to set him free . I slipped in in safety and\r
+lay awake half the night in my joy at the thought of seeing you .\r
+I had no difficulty in getting leave to come into Winchester this\r
+morning , but I must be back before three o'clock , for Mr . and\r
+Mrs . Rucastle are going on a visit , and will be away all the\r
+evening , so that I must look after the child . Now I have told you\r
+all my adventures , Mr . Holmes , and I should be very glad if you\r
+could tell me what it all means , and , above all , what I should\r
+do "\r
+\r
+Holmes and I had listened spellbound to this extraordinary story .\r
+My friend rose now and paced up and down the room , his hands in\r
+his pockets , and an expression of the most profound gravity upon\r
+his face .\r
+\r
+" Is Toller still drunk " he asked .\r
+\r
+" Yes . I heard his wife tell Mrs . Rucastle that she could do\r
+nothing with him "\r
+\r
+" That is well . And the Rucastles go out to - night "\r
+\r
+" Yes "\r
+\r
+" Is there a cellar with a good strong lock "\r
+\r
+" Yes , the wine - cellar "\r
+\r
+" You seem to me to have acted all through this matter like a very\r
+brave and sensible girl , Miss Hunter . Do you think that you could\r
+perform one more feat ? I should not ask it of you if I did not\r
+think you a quite exceptional woman "\r
+\r
+" I will try . What is it "\r
+\r
+" We shall be at the Copper Beeches by seven o'clock , my friend\r
+and I . The Rucastles will be gone by that time , and Toller will ,\r
+we hope , be incapable . There only remains Mrs . Toller , who might\r
+give the alarm . If you could send her into the cellar on some\r
+errand , and then turn the key upon her , you would facilitate\r
+matters immensely "\r
+\r
+" I will do it "\r
+\r
+" Excellent ! We shall then look thoroughly into the affair . Of\r
+course there is only one feasible explanation . You have been\r
+brought there to personate someone , and the real person is\r
+imprisoned in this chamber . That is obvious . As to who this\r
+prisoner is , I have no doubt that it is the daughter , Miss Alice\r
+Rucastle , if I remember right , who was said to have gone to\r
+America . You were chosen , doubtless , as resembling her in height ,\r
+figure , and the colour of your hair . Hers had been cut off , very\r
+possibly in some illness through which she has passed , and so , of\r
+course , yours had to be sacrificed also . By a curious chance you\r
+came upon her tresses . The man in the road was undoubtedly some\r
+friend of hers - possibly her fiance - and no doubt , as you wore\r
+the girl's dress and were so like her , he was convinced from your\r
+laughter , whenever he saw you , and afterwards from your gesture ,\r
+that Miss Rucastle was perfectly happy , and that she no longer\r
+desired his attentions . The dog is let loose at night to prevent\r
+him from endeavouring to communicate with her . So much is fairly\r
+clear . The most serious point in the case is the disposition of\r
+the child "\r
+\r
+" What on earth has that to do with it " I ejaculated .\r
+\r
+" My dear Watson , you as a medical man are continually gaining\r
+light as to the tendencies of a child by the study of the\r
+parents . Don't you see that the converse is equally valid . I have\r
+frequently gained my first real insight into the character of\r
+parents by studying their children . This child's disposition is\r
+abnormally cruel , merely for cruelty's sake , and whether he\r
+derives this from his smiling father , as I should suspect , or\r
+from his mother , it bodes evil for the poor girl who is in their\r
+power "\r
+\r
+" I am sure that you are right , Mr . Holmes " cried our client . " A\r
+thousand things come back to me which make me certain that you\r
+have hit it . Oh , let us lose not an instant in bringing help to\r
+this poor creature "\r
+\r
+" We must be circumspect , for we are dealing with a very cunning\r
+man . We can do nothing until seven o'clock . At that hour we shall\r
+be with you , and it will not be long before we solve the\r
+mystery "\r
+\r
+We were as good as our word , for it was just seven when we\r
+reached the Copper Beeches , having put up our trap at a wayside\r
+public - house . The group of trees , with their dark leaves shining\r
+like burnished metal in the light of the setting sun , were\r
+sufficient to mark the house even had Miss Hunter not been\r
+standing smiling on the door - step .\r
+\r
+" Have you managed it " asked Holmes .\r
+\r
+A loud thudding noise came from somewhere downstairs . " That is\r
+Mrs . Toller in the cellar " said she . " Her husband lies snoring\r
+on the kitchen rug . Here are his keys , which are the duplicates\r
+of Mr . Rucastle's "\r
+\r
+" You have done well indeed " cried Holmes with enthusiasm . " Now\r
+lead the way , and we shall soon see the end of this black\r
+business "\r
+\r
+We passed up the stair , unlocked the door , followed on down a\r
+passage , and found ourselves in front of the barricade which Miss\r
+Hunter had described . Holmes cut the cord and removed the\r
+transverse bar . Then he tried the various keys in the lock , but\r
+without success . No sound came from within , and at the silence\r
+Holmes ' face clouded over .\r
+\r
+" I trust that we are not too late " said he . " I think , Miss\r
+Hunter , that we had better go in without you . Now , Watson , put\r
+your shoulder to it , and we shall see whether we cannot make our\r
+way in "\r
+\r
+It was an old rickety door and gave at once before our united\r
+strength . Together we rushed into the room . It was empty . There\r
+was no furniture save a little pallet bed , a small table , and a\r
+basketful of linen . The skylight above was open , and the prisoner\r
+gone .\r
+\r
+" There has been some villainy here " said Holmes ; " this beauty\r
+has guessed Miss Hunter's intentions and has carried his victim\r
+off "\r
+\r
+" But how "\r
+\r
+" Through the skylight . We shall soon see how he managed it " He\r
+swung himself up onto the roof . " Ah , yes " he cried , " here's the\r
+end of a long light ladder against the eaves . That is how he did\r
+it "\r
+\r
+" But it is impossible " said Miss Hunter ; " the ladder was not\r
+there when the Rucastles went away "\r
+\r
+" He has come back and done it . I tell you that he is a clever and\r
+dangerous man . I should not be very much surprised if this were\r
+he whose step I hear now upon the stair . I think , Watson , that it\r
+would be as well for you to have your pistol ready "\r
+\r
+The words were hardly out of his mouth before a man appeared at\r
+the door of the room , a very fat and burly man , with a heavy\r
+stick in his hand . Miss Hunter screamed and shrunk against the\r
+wall at the sight of him , but Sherlock Holmes sprang forward and\r
+confronted him .\r
+\r
+" You villain " said he , " where's your daughter "\r
+\r
+The fat man cast his eyes round , and then up at the open\r
+skylight .\r
+\r
+" It is for me to ask you that " he shrieked , " you thieves ! Spies\r
+and thieves ! I have caught you , have I ? You are in my power . I ' ll\r
+serve you " He turned and clattered down the stairs as hard as he\r
+could go .\r
+\r
+" He's gone for the dog " cried Miss Hunter .\r
+\r
+" I have my revolver " said I .\r
+\r
+" Better close the front door " cried Holmes , and we all rushed\r
+down the stairs together . We had hardly reached the hall when we\r
+heard the baying of a hound , and then a scream of agony , with a\r
+horrible worrying sound which it was dreadful to listen to . An\r
+elderly man with a red face and shaking limbs came staggering out\r
+at a side door .\r
+\r
+" My God " he cried . " Someone has loosed the dog . It's not been\r
+fed for two days . Quick , quick , or it ' ll be too late "\r
+\r
+Holmes and I rushed out and round the angle of the house , with\r
+Toller hurrying behind us . There was the huge famished brute , its\r
+black muzzle buried in Rucastle's throat , while he writhed and\r
+screamed upon the ground . Running up , I blew its brains out , and\r
+it fell over with its keen white teeth still meeting in the great\r
+creases of his neck . With much labour we separated them and\r
+carried him , living but horribly mangled , into the house . We laid\r
+him upon the drawing - room sofa , and having dispatched the sobered\r
+Toller to bear the news to his wife , I did what I could to\r
+relieve his pain . We were all assembled round him when the door\r
+opened , and a tall , gaunt woman entered the room .\r
+\r
+" Mrs . Toller " cried Miss Hunter .\r
+\r
+" Yes , miss . Mr . Rucastle let me out when he came back before he\r
+went up to you . Ah , miss , it is a pity you didn't let me know\r
+what you were planning , for I would have told you that your pains\r
+were wasted "\r
+\r
+" Ha " said Holmes , looking keenly at her . " It is clear that Mrs .\r
+Toller knows more about this matter than anyone else "\r
+\r
+" Yes , sir , I do , and I am ready enough to tell what I know "\r
+\r
+" Then , pray , sit down , and let us hear it for there are several\r
+points on which I must confess that I am still in the dark "\r
+\r
+" I will soon make it clear to you " said she ; " and I ' d have done\r
+so before now if I could ha ' got out from the cellar . If there's\r
+police - court business over this , you ' ll remember that I was the\r
+one that stood your friend , and that I was Miss Alice's friend\r
+too .\r
+\r
+" She was never happy at home , Miss Alice wasn't , from the time\r
+that her father married again . She was slighted like and had no\r
+say in anything , but it never really became bad for her until\r
+after she met Mr . Fowler at a friend's house . As well as I could\r
+learn , Miss Alice had rights of her own by will , but she was so\r
+quiet and patient , she was , that she never said a word about them\r
+but just left everything in Mr . Rucastle's hands . He knew he was\r
+safe with her ; but when there was a chance of a husband coming\r
+forward , who would ask for all that the law would give him , then\r
+her father thought it time to put a stop on it . He wanted her to\r
+sign a paper , so that whether she married or not , he could use\r
+her money . When she wouldn't do it , he kept on worrying her until\r
+she got brain - fever , and for six weeks was at death's door . Then\r
+she got better at last , all worn to a shadow , and with her\r
+beautiful hair cut off ; but that didn't make no change in her\r
+young man , and he stuck to her as true as man could be "\r
+\r
+" Ah " said Holmes , " I think that what you have been good enough\r
+to tell us makes the matter fairly clear , and that I can deduce\r
+all that remains . Mr . Rucastle then , I presume , took to this\r
+system of imprisonment "\r
+\r
+" Yes , sir "\r
+\r
+" And brought Miss Hunter down from London in order to get rid of\r
+the disagreeable persistence of Mr . Fowler "\r
+\r
+" That was it , sir "\r
+\r
+" But Mr . Fowler being a persevering man , as a good seaman should\r
+be , blockaded the house , and having met you succeeded by certain\r
+arguments , metallic or otherwise , in convincing you that your\r
+interests were the same as his "\r
+\r
+" Mr . Fowler was a very kind - spoken , free - handed gentleman " said\r
+Mrs . Toller serenely .\r
+\r
+" And in this way he managed that your good man should have no\r
+want of drink , and that a ladder should be ready at the moment\r
+when your master had gone out "\r
+\r
+" You have it , sir , just as it happened "\r
+\r
+" I am sure we owe you an apology , Mrs . Toller " said Holmes , " for\r
+you have certainly cleared up everything which puzzled us . And\r
+here comes the country surgeon and Mrs . Rucastle , so I think ,\r
+Watson , that we had best escort Miss Hunter back to Winchester ,\r
+as it seems to me that our locus standi now is rather a\r
+questionable one "\r
+\r
+And thus was solved the mystery of the sinister house with the\r
+copper beeches in front of the door . Mr . Rucastle survived , but\r
+was always a broken man , kept alive solely through the care of\r
+his devoted wife . They still live with their old servants , who\r
+probably know so much of Rucastle's past life that he finds it\r
+difficult to part from them . Mr . Fowler and Miss Rucastle were\r
+married , by special license , in Southampton the day after their\r
+flight , and he is now the holder of a government appointment in\r
+the island of Mauritius . As to Miss Violet Hunter , my friend\r
+Holmes , rather to my disappointment , manifested no further\r
+interest in her when once she had ceased to be the centre of one\r
+of his problems , and she is now the head of a private school at\r
+Walsall , where I believe that she has met with considerable success .\r
--- /dev/null
+ULYSSES
+
+by James Joyce
+
+
+
+
+-- I --
+
+Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of
+lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown,
+ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him on the mild morning air. He
+held the bowl aloft and intoned:
+
+--_Introibo ad altare Dei_.
+
+Halted, he peered down the dark winding stairs and called out coarsely:
+
+--Come up, Kinch! Come up, you fearful jesuit!
+
+Solemnly he came forward and mounted the round gunrest. He faced about
+and blessed gravely thrice the tower, the surrounding land and the
+awaking mountains. Then, catching sight of Stephen Dedalus, he bent
+towards him and made rapid crosses in the air, gurgling in his throat
+and shaking his head. Stephen Dedalus, displeased and sleepy, leaned
+his arms on the top of the staircase and looked coldly at the shaking
+gurgling face that blessed him, equine in its length, and at the light
+untonsured hair, grained and hued like pale oak.
+
+Buck Mulligan peeped an instant under the mirror and then covered the
+bowl smartly.
+
+--Back to barracks! he said sternly.
+
+He added in a preacher's tone:
+
+--For this, O dearly beloved, is the genuine Christine: body and soul
+and blood and ouns. Slow music, please. Shut your eyes, gents. One
+moment. A little trouble about those white corpuscles. Silence, all.
+
+He peered sideways up and gave a long slow whistle of call, then paused
+awhile in rapt attention, his even white teeth glistening here and there
+with gold points. Chrysostomos. Two strong shrill whistles answered
+through the calm.
+
+--Thanks, old chap, he cried briskly. That will do nicely. Switch off
+the current, will you?
+
+He skipped off the gunrest and looked gravely at his watcher, gathering
+about his legs the loose folds of his gown. The plump shadowed face and
+sullen oval jowl recalled a prelate, patron of arts in the middle ages.
+A pleasant smile broke quietly over his lips.
+
+--The mockery of it! he said gaily. Your absurd name, an ancient Greek!
+
+He pointed his finger in friendly jest and went over to the parapet,
+laughing to himself. Stephen Dedalus stepped up, followed him wearily
+halfway and sat down on the edge of the gunrest, watching him still as
+he propped his mirror on the parapet, dipped the brush in the bowl and
+lathered cheeks and neck.
+
+Buck Mulligan's gay voice went on.
+
+--My name is absurd too: Malachi Mulligan, two dactyls. But it has a
+Hellenic ring, hasn't it? Tripping and sunny like the buck himself.
+We must go to Athens. Will you come if I can get the aunt to fork out
+twenty quid?
+
+He laid the brush aside and, laughing with delight, cried:
+
+--Will he come? The jejune jesuit!
+
+Ceasing, he began to shave with care.
+
+--Tell me, Mulligan, Stephen said quietly.
+
+--Yes, my love?
+
+--How long is Haines going to stay in this tower?
+
+Buck Mulligan showed a shaven cheek over his right shoulder.
+
+--God, isn't he dreadful? he said frankly. A ponderous Saxon. He thinks
+you're not a gentleman. God, these bloody English! Bursting with money
+and indigestion. Because he comes from Oxford. You know, Dedalus, you
+have the real Oxford manner. He can't make you out. O, my name for you
+is the best: Kinch, the knife-blade.
+
+He shaved warily over his chin.
+
+--He was raving all night about a black panther, Stephen said. Where is
+his guncase?
+
+--A woful lunatic! Mulligan said. Were you in a funk?
+
+--I was, Stephen said with energy and growing fear. Out here in the dark
+with a man I don't know raving and moaning to himself about shooting a
+black panther. You saved men from drowning. I'm not a hero, however. If
+he stays on here I am off.
+
+Buck Mulligan frowned at the lather on his razorblade. He hopped down
+from his perch and began to search his trouser pockets hastily.
+
+--Scutter! he cried thickly.
+
+He came over to the gunrest and, thrusting a hand into Stephen's upper
+pocket, said:
+
+--Lend us a loan of your noserag to wipe my razor.
+
+Stephen suffered him to pull out and hold up on show by its corner a
+dirty crumpled handkerchief. Buck Mulligan wiped the razorblade neatly.
+Then, gazing over the handkerchief, he said:
+
+--The bard's noserag! A new art colour for our Irish poets: snotgreen.
+You can almost taste it, can't you?
+
+He mounted to the parapet again and gazed out over Dublin bay, his fair
+oakpale hair stirring slightly.
+
+--God! he said quietly. Isn't the sea what Algy calls it: a grey
+sweet mother? The snotgreen sea. The scrotumtightening sea. _Epi oinopa
+ponton_. Ah, Dedalus, the Greeks! I must teach you. You must read them
+in the original. _Thalatta! Thalatta_! She is our great sweet mother.
+Come and look.
+
+Stephen stood up and went over to the parapet. Leaning on it he looked
+down on the water and on the mailboat clearing the harbourmouth of
+Kingstown.
+
+--Our mighty mother! Buck Mulligan said.
+
+He turned abruptly his grey searching eyes from the sea to Stephen's
+face.
+
+--The aunt thinks you killed your mother, he said. That's why she won't
+let me have anything to do with you.
+
+--Someone killed her, Stephen said gloomily.
+
+--You could have knelt down, damn it, Kinch, when your dying mother
+asked you, Buck Mulligan said. I'm hyperborean as much as you. But to
+think of your mother begging you with her last breath to kneel down and
+pray for her. And you refused. There is something sinister in you...
+
+He broke off and lathered again lightly his farther cheek. A tolerant
+smile curled his lips.
+
+--But a lovely mummer! he murmured to himself. Kinch, the loveliest
+mummer of them all!
+
+He shaved evenly and with care, in silence, seriously.
+
+Stephen, an elbow rested on the jagged granite, leaned his palm against
+his brow and gazed at the fraying edge of his shiny black coat-sleeve.
+Pain, that was not yet the pain of love, fretted his heart. Silently, in
+a dream she had come to him after her death, her wasted body within its
+loose brown graveclothes giving off an odour of wax and rosewood, her
+breath, that had bent upon him, mute, reproachful, a faint odour of
+wetted ashes. Across the threadbare cuffedge he saw the sea hailed as a
+great sweet mother by the wellfed voice beside him. The ring of bay
+and skyline held a dull green mass of liquid. A bowl of white china had
+stood beside her deathbed holding the green sluggish bile which she had
+torn up from her rotting liver by fits of loud groaning vomiting.
+
+Buck Mulligan wiped again his razorblade.
+
+--Ah, poor dogsbody! he said in a kind voice. I must give you a shirt
+and a few noserags. How are the secondhand breeks?
+
+--They fit well enough, Stephen answered.
+
+Buck Mulligan attacked the hollow beneath his underlip.
+
+--The mockery of it, he said contentedly. Secondleg they should be. God
+knows what poxy bowsy left them off. I have a lovely pair with a hair
+stripe, grey. You'll look spiffing in them. I'm not joking, Kinch. You
+look damn well when you're dressed.
+
+--Thanks, Stephen said. I can't wear them if they are grey.
+
+--He can't wear them, Buck Mulligan told his face in the mirror.
+Etiquette is etiquette. He kills his mother but he can't wear grey
+trousers.
+
+He folded his razor neatly and with stroking palps of fingers felt the
+smooth skin.
+
+Stephen turned his gaze from the sea and to the plump face with its
+smokeblue mobile eyes.
+
+--That fellow I was with in the Ship last night, said Buck Mulligan,
+says you have g.p.i. He's up in Dottyville with Connolly Norman. General
+paralysis of the insane!
+
+He swept the mirror a half circle in the air to flash the tidings abroad
+in sunlight now radiant on the sea. His curling shaven lips laughed and
+the edges of his white glittering teeth. Laughter seized all his strong
+wellknit trunk.
+
+--Look at yourself, he said, you dreadful bard!
+
+Stephen bent forward and peered at the mirror held out to him, cleft by
+a crooked crack. Hair on end. As he and others see me. Who chose this
+face for me? This dogsbody to rid of vermin. It asks me too.
+
+--I pinched it out of the skivvy's room, Buck Mulligan said. It does her
+all right. The aunt always keeps plainlooking servants for Malachi. Lead
+him not into temptation. And her name is Ursula.
+
+Laughing again, he brought the mirror away from Stephen's peering eyes.
+
+--The rage of Caliban at not seeing his face in a mirror, he said. If
+Wilde were only alive to see you!
+
+Drawing back and pointing, Stephen said with bitterness:
+
+--It is a symbol of Irish art. The cracked looking-glass of a servant.
+
+Buck Mulligan suddenly linked his arm in Stephen's and walked with him
+round the tower, his razor and mirror clacking in the pocket where he
+had thrust them.
+
+--It's not fair to tease you like that, Kinch, is it? he said kindly.
+God knows you have more spirit than any of them.
+
+Parried again. He fears the lancet of my art as I fear that of his. The
+cold steelpen.
+
+--Cracked lookingglass of a servant! Tell that to the oxy chap
+downstairs and touch him for a guinea. He's stinking with money and
+thinks you're not a gentleman. His old fellow made his tin by selling
+jalap to Zulus or some bloody swindle or other. God, Kinch, if you and I
+could only work together we might do something for the island. Hellenise
+it.
+
+Cranly's arm. His arm.
+
+--And to think of your having to beg from these swine. I'm the only one
+that knows what you are. Why don't you trust me more? What have you
+up your nose against me? Is it Haines? If he makes any noise here I'll
+bring down Seymour and we'll give him a ragging worse than they gave
+Clive Kempthorpe.
+
+Young shouts of moneyed voices in Clive Kempthorpe's rooms. Palefaces:
+they hold their ribs with laughter, one clasping another. O, I shall
+expire! Break the news to her gently, Aubrey! I shall die! With slit
+ribbons of his shirt whipping the air he hops and hobbles round the
+table, with trousers down at heels, chased by Ades of Magdalen with the
+tailor's shears. A scared calf's face gilded with marmalade. I don't
+want to be debagged! Don't you play the giddy ox with me!
+
+Shouts from the open window startling evening in the quadrangle. A deaf
+gardener, aproned, masked with Matthew Arnold's face, pushes his mower
+on the sombre lawn watching narrowly the dancing motes of grasshalms.
+
+To ourselves... new paganism... omphalos.
+
+--Let him stay, Stephen said. There's nothing wrong with him except at
+night.
+
+--Then what is it? Buck Mulligan asked impatiently. Cough it up. I'm
+quite frank with you. What have you against me now?
+
+They halted, looking towards the blunt cape of Bray Head that lay on the
+water like the snout of a sleeping whale. Stephen freed his arm quietly.
+
+--Do you wish me to tell you? he asked.
+
+--Yes, what is it? Buck Mulligan answered. I don't remember anything.
+
+He looked in Stephen's face as he spoke. A light wind passed his brow,
+fanning softly his fair uncombed hair and stirring silver points of
+anxiety in his eyes.
+
+Stephen, depressed by his own voice, said:
+
+--Do you remember the first day I went to your house after my mother's
+death?
+
+Buck Mulligan frowned quickly and said:
+
+--What? Where? I can't remember anything. I remember only ideas and
+sensations. Why? What happened in the name of God?
+
+--You were making tea, Stephen said, and went across the landing to
+get more hot water. Your mother and some visitor came out of the
+drawingroom. She asked you who was in your room.
+
+--Yes? Buck Mulligan said. What did I say? I forget.
+
+--You said, Stephen answered, _O, it's only Dedalus whose mother is
+beastly dead._
+
+A flush which made him seem younger and more engaging rose to Buck
+Mulligan's cheek.
+
+--Did I say that? he asked. Well? What harm is that?
+
+He shook his constraint from him nervously.
+
+--And what is death, he asked, your mother's or yours or my own? You
+saw only your mother die. I see them pop off every day in the Mater and
+Richmond and cut up into tripes in the dissectingroom. It's a beastly
+thing and nothing else. It simply doesn't matter. You wouldn't kneel
+down to pray for your mother on her deathbed when she asked you. Why?
+Because you have the cursed jesuit strain in you, only it's injected the
+wrong way. To me it's all a mockery and beastly. Her cerebral lobes
+are not functioning. She calls the doctor sir Peter Teazle and picks
+buttercups off the quilt. Humour her till it's over. You crossed her
+last wish in death and yet you sulk with me because I don't whinge like
+some hired mute from Lalouette's. Absurd! I suppose I did say it. I
+didn't mean to offend the memory of your mother.
+
+He had spoken himself into boldness. Stephen, shielding the gaping
+wounds which the words had left in his heart, said very coldly:
+
+--I am not thinking of the offence to my mother.
+
+--Of what then? Buck Mulligan asked.
+
+--Of the offence to me, Stephen answered.
+
+Buck Mulligan swung round on his heel.
+
+--O, an impossible person! he exclaimed.
+
+He walked off quickly round the parapet. Stephen stood at his post,
+gazing over the calm sea towards the headland. Sea and headland now grew
+dim. Pulses were beating in his eyes, veiling their sight, and he felt
+the fever of his cheeks.
+
+A voice within the tower called loudly:
+
+--Are you up there, Mulligan?
+
+--I'm coming, Buck Mulligan answered.
+
+He turned towards Stephen and said:
+
+--Look at the sea. What does it care about offences? Chuck Loyola,
+Kinch, and come on down. The Sassenach wants his morning rashers.
+
+His head halted again for a moment at the top of the staircase, level
+with the roof:
+
+--Don't mope over it all day, he said. I'm inconsequent. Give up the
+moody brooding.
+
+His head vanished but the drone of his descending voice boomed out of
+the stairhead:
+
+ _And no more turn aside and brood
+ Upon love's bitter mystery
+ For Fergus rules the brazen cars._
+
+
+Woodshadows floated silently by through the morning peace from the
+stairhead seaward where he gazed. Inshore and farther out the mirror of
+water whitened, spurned by lightshod hurrying feet. White breast of
+the dim sea. The twining stresses, two by two. A hand plucking the
+harpstrings, merging their twining chords. Wavewhite wedded words
+shimmering on the dim tide.
+
+A cloud began to cover the sun slowly, wholly, shadowing the bay in
+deeper green. It lay beneath him, a bowl of bitter waters. Fergus' song:
+I sang it alone in the house, holding down the long dark chords. Her
+door was open: she wanted to hear my music. Silent with awe and pity
+I went to her bedside. She was crying in her wretched bed. For those
+words, Stephen: love's bitter mystery.
+
+Where now?
+
+Her secrets: old featherfans, tasselled dancecards, powdered with musk,
+a gaud of amber beads in her locked drawer. A birdcage hung in the sunny
+window of her house when she was a girl. She heard old Royce sing in the
+pantomime of Turko the Terrible and laughed with others when he sang:
+
+ _I am the boy
+ That can enjoy
+ Invisibility._
+
+
+Phantasmal mirth, folded away: muskperfumed.
+
+_And no more turn aside and brood._
+
+
+Folded away in the memory of nature with her toys. Memories beset his
+brooding brain. Her glass of water from the kitchen tap when she had
+approached the sacrament. A cored apple, filled with brown sugar,
+roasting for her at the hob on a dark autumn evening. Her shapely
+fingernails reddened by the blood of squashed lice from the children's
+shirts.
+
+In a dream, silently, she had come to him, her wasted body within its
+loose graveclothes giving off an odour of wax and rosewood, her breath,
+bent over him with mute secret words, a faint odour of wetted ashes.
+
+Her glazing eyes, staring out of death, to shake and bend my soul. On me
+alone. The ghostcandle to light her agony. Ghostly light on the tortured
+face. Her hoarse loud breath rattling in horror, while all prayed on
+their knees. Her eyes on me to strike me down. _Liliata rutilantium te
+confessorum turma circumdet: iubilantium te virginum chorus excipiat._
+
+Ghoul! Chewer of corpses!
+
+No, mother! Let me be and let me live.
+
+--Kinch ahoy!
+
+Buck Mulligan's voice sang from within the tower. It came nearer up the
+staircase, calling again. Stephen, still trembling at his soul's cry,
+heard warm running sunlight and in the air behind him friendly words.
+
+--Dedalus, come down, like a good mosey. Breakfast is ready. Haines is
+apologising for waking us last night. It's all right.
+
+--I'm coming, Stephen said, turning.
+
+--Do, for Jesus' sake, Buck Mulligan said. For my sake and for all our
+sakes.
+
+His head disappeared and reappeared.
+
+--I told him your symbol of Irish art. He says it's very clever. Touch
+him for a quid, will you? A guinea, I mean.
+
+--I get paid this morning, Stephen said.
+
+--The school kip? Buck Mulligan said. How much? Four quid? Lend us one.
+
+--If you want it, Stephen said.
+
+--Four shining sovereigns, Buck Mulligan cried with delight. We'll
+have a glorious drunk to astonish the druidy druids. Four omnipotent
+sovereigns.
+
+He flung up his hands and tramped down the stone stairs, singing out of
+tune with a Cockney accent:
+
+ _O, won't we have a merry time,
+ Drinking whisky, beer and wine!
+ On coronation,
+ Coronation day!
+ O, won't we have a merry time
+ On coronation day!_
+
+
+Warm sunshine merrying over the sea. The nickel shavingbowl shone,
+forgotten, on the parapet. Why should I bring it down? Or leave it there
+all day, forgotten friendship?
+
+He went over to it, held it in his hands awhile, feeling its coolness,
+smelling the clammy slaver of the lather in which the brush was stuck.
+So I carried the boat of incense then at Clongowes. I am another now and
+yet the same. A servant too. A server of a servant.
+
+In the gloomy domed livingroom of the tower Buck Mulligan's gowned form
+moved briskly to and fro about the hearth, hiding and revealing its
+yellow glow. Two shafts of soft daylight fell across the flagged floor
+from the high barbacans: and at the meeting of their rays a cloud of
+coalsmoke and fumes of fried grease floated, turning.
+
+--We'll be choked, Buck Mulligan said. Haines, open that door, will you?
+
+Stephen laid the shavingbowl on the locker. A tall figure rose from the
+hammock where it had been sitting, went to the doorway and pulled open
+the inner doors.
+
+--Have you the key? a voice asked.
+
+--Dedalus has it, Buck Mulligan said. Janey Mack, I'm choked!
+
+He howled, without looking up from the fire:
+
+--Kinch!
+
+--It's in the lock, Stephen said, coming forward.
+
+The key scraped round harshly twice and, when the heavy door had been
+set ajar, welcome light and bright air entered. Haines stood at the
+doorway, looking out. Stephen haled his upended valise to the table and
+sat down to wait. Buck Mulligan tossed the fry on to the dish beside
+him. Then he carried the dish and a large teapot over to the table, set
+them down heavily and sighed with relief.
+
+--I'm melting, he said, as the candle remarked when... But, hush! Not a
+word more on that subject! Kinch, wake up! Bread, butter, honey. Haines,
+come in. The grub is ready. Bless us, O Lord, and these thy gifts.
+Where's the sugar? O, jay, there's no milk.
+
+Stephen fetched the loaf and the pot of honey and the buttercooler from
+the locker. Buck Mulligan sat down in a sudden pet.
+
+--What sort of a kip is this? he said. I told her to come after eight.
+
+--We can drink it black, Stephen said thirstily. There's a lemon in the
+locker.
+
+--O, damn you and your Paris fads! Buck Mulligan said. I want Sandycove
+milk.
+
+Haines came in from the doorway and said quietly:
+
+--That woman is coming up with the milk.
+
+--The blessings of God on you! Buck Mulligan cried, jumping up from his
+chair. Sit down. Pour out the tea there. The sugar is in the bag. Here,
+I can't go fumbling at the damned eggs.
+
+He hacked through the fry on the dish and slapped it out on three
+plates, saying:
+
+--_In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti._
+
+Haines sat down to pour out the tea.
+
+--I'm giving you two lumps each, he said. But, I say, Mulligan, you do
+make strong tea, don't you?
+
+Buck Mulligan, hewing thick slices from the loaf, said in an old woman's
+wheedling voice:
+
+--When I makes tea I makes tea, as old mother Grogan said. And when I
+makes water I makes water.
+
+--By Jove, it is tea, Haines said.
+
+Buck Mulligan went on hewing and wheedling:
+
+--_So I do, Mrs Cahill,_ says she. _Begob, ma'am,_ says Mrs Cahill, _God
+send you don't make them in the one pot._
+
+He lunged towards his messmates in turn a thick slice of bread, impaled
+on his knife.
+
+--That's folk, he said very earnestly, for your book, Haines. Five
+lines of text and ten pages of notes about the folk and the fishgods of
+Dundrum. Printed by the weird sisters in the year of the big wind.
+
+He turned to Stephen and asked in a fine puzzled voice, lifting his
+brows:
+
+--Can you recall, brother, is mother Grogan's tea and water pot spoken
+of in the Mabinogion or is it in the Upanishads?
+
+--I doubt it, said Stephen gravely.
+
+--Do you now? Buck Mulligan said in the same tone. Your reasons, pray?
+
+--I fancy, Stephen said as he ate, it did not exist in or out of the
+Mabinogion. Mother Grogan was, one imagines, a kinswoman of Mary Ann.
+
+Buck Mulligan's face smiled with delight.
+
+--Charming! he said in a finical sweet voice, showing his white teeth
+and blinking his eyes pleasantly. Do you think she was? Quite charming!
+
+Then, suddenly overclouding all his features, he growled in a hoarsened
+rasping voice as he hewed again vigorously at the loaf:
+
+ _--For old Mary Ann
+ She doesn't care a damn.
+ But, hising up her petticoats..._
+
+
+He crammed his mouth with fry and munched and droned.
+
+The doorway was darkened by an entering form.
+
+--The milk, sir!
+
+--Come in, ma'am, Mulligan said. Kinch, get the jug.
+
+An old woman came forward and stood by Stephen's elbow.
+
+--That's a lovely morning, sir, she said. Glory be to God.
+
+--To whom? Mulligan said, glancing at her. Ah, to be sure!
+
+Stephen reached back and took the milkjug from the locker.
+
+--The islanders, Mulligan said to Haines casually, speak frequently of
+the collector of prepuces.
+
+--How much, sir? asked the old woman.
+
+--A quart, Stephen said.
+
+He watched her pour into the measure and thence into the jug rich white
+milk, not hers. Old shrunken paps. She poured again a measureful and
+a tilly. Old and secret she had entered from a morning world, maybe
+a messenger. She praised the goodness of the milk, pouring it out.
+Crouching by a patient cow at daybreak in the lush field, a witch on her
+toadstool, her wrinkled fingers quick at the squirting dugs. They lowed
+about her whom they knew, dewsilky cattle. Silk of the kine and poor old
+woman, names given her in old times. A wandering crone, lowly form of
+an immortal serving her conqueror and her gay betrayer, their common
+cuckquean, a messenger from the secret morning. To serve or to upbraid,
+whether he could not tell: but scorned to beg her favour.
+
+--It is indeed, ma'am, Buck Mulligan said, pouring milk into their cups.
+
+--Taste it, sir, she said.
+
+He drank at her bidding.
+
+--If we could live on good food like that, he said to her somewhat
+loudly, we wouldn't have the country full of rotten teeth and rotten
+guts. Living in a bogswamp, eating cheap food and the streets paved with
+dust, horsedung and consumptives' spits.
+
+--Are you a medical student, sir? the old woman asked.
+
+--I am, ma'am, Buck Mulligan answered.
+
+--Look at that now, she said.
+
+Stephen listened in scornful silence. She bows her old head to a voice
+that speaks to her loudly, her bonesetter, her medicineman: me she
+slights. To the voice that will shrive and oil for the grave all there
+is of her but her woman's unclean loins, of man's flesh made not in
+God's likeness, the serpent's prey. And to the loud voice that now bids
+her be silent with wondering unsteady eyes.
+
+--Do you understand what he says? Stephen asked her.
+
+--Is it French you are talking, sir? the old woman said to Haines.
+
+Haines spoke to her again a longer speech, confidently.
+
+--Irish, Buck Mulligan said. Is there Gaelic on you?
+
+--I thought it was Irish, she said, by the sound of it. Are you from the
+west, sir?
+
+--I am an Englishman, Haines answered.
+
+--He's English, Buck Mulligan said, and he thinks we ought to speak
+Irish in Ireland.
+
+--Sure we ought to, the old woman said, and I'm ashamed I don't speak
+the language myself. I'm told it's a grand language by them that knows.
+
+--Grand is no name for it, said Buck Mulligan. Wonderful entirely. Fill
+us out some more tea, Kinch. Would you like a cup, ma'am?
+
+--No, thank you, sir, the old woman said, slipping the ring of the
+milkcan on her forearm and about to go.
+
+Haines said to her:
+
+--Have you your bill? We had better pay her, Mulligan, hadn't we?
+
+Stephen filled again the three cups.
+
+--Bill, sir? she said, halting. Well, it's seven mornings a pint at
+twopence is seven twos is a shilling and twopence over and these three
+mornings a quart at fourpence is three quarts is a shilling. That's a
+shilling and one and two is two and two, sir.
+
+Buck Mulligan sighed and, having filled his mouth with a crust thickly
+buttered on both sides, stretched forth his legs and began to search his
+trouser pockets.
+
+--Pay up and look pleasant, Haines said to him, smiling.
+
+Stephen filled a third cup, a spoonful of tea colouring faintly the
+thick rich milk. Buck Mulligan brought up a florin, twisted it round in
+his fingers and cried:
+
+--A miracle!
+
+He passed it along the table towards the old woman, saying:
+
+--Ask nothing more of me, sweet. All I can give you I give.
+
+Stephen laid the coin in her uneager hand.
+
+--We'll owe twopence, he said.
+
+--Time enough, sir, she said, taking the coin. Time enough. Good
+morning, sir.
+
+She curtseyed and went out, followed by Buck Mulligan's tender chant:
+
+ _--Heart of my heart, were it more,
+ More would be laid at your feet._
+
+
+He turned to Stephen and said:
+
+--Seriously, Dedalus. I'm stony. Hurry out to your school kip and bring
+us back some money. Today the bards must drink and junket. Ireland
+expects that every man this day will do his duty.
+
+--That reminds me, Haines said, rising, that I have to visit your
+national library today.
+
+--Our swim first, Buck Mulligan said.
+
+He turned to Stephen and asked blandly:
+
+--Is this the day for your monthly wash, Kinch?
+
+Then he said to Haines:
+
+--The unclean bard makes a point of washing once a month.
+
+--All Ireland is washed by the gulfstream, Stephen said as he let honey
+trickle over a slice of the loaf.
+
+Haines from the corner where he was knotting easily a scarf about the
+loose collar of his tennis shirt spoke:
+
+--I intend to make a collection of your sayings if you will let me.
+
+Speaking to me. They wash and tub and scrub. Agenbite of inwit.
+Conscience. Yet here's a spot.
+
+--That one about the cracked lookingglass of a servant being the symbol
+of Irish art is deuced good.
+
+Buck Mulligan kicked Stephen's foot under the table and said with warmth
+of tone:
+
+--Wait till you hear him on Hamlet, Haines.
+
+--Well, I mean it, Haines said, still speaking to Stephen. I was just
+thinking of it when that poor old creature came in.
+
+--Would I make any money by it? Stephen asked.
+
+Haines laughed and, as he took his soft grey hat from the holdfast of
+the hammock, said:
+
+--I don't know, I'm sure.
+
+He strolled out to the doorway. Buck Mulligan bent across to Stephen and
+said with coarse vigour:
+
+--You put your hoof in it now. What did you say that for?
+
+--Well? Stephen said. The problem is to get money. From whom? From the
+milkwoman or from him. It's a toss up, I think.
+
+--I blow him out about you, Buck Mulligan said, and then you come along
+with your lousy leer and your gloomy jesuit jibes.
+
+--I see little hope, Stephen said, from her or from him.
+
+Buck Mulligan sighed tragically and laid his hand on Stephen's arm.
+
+--From me, Kinch, he said.
+
+In a suddenly changed tone he added:
+
+--To tell you the God's truth I think you're right. Damn all else they
+are good for. Why don't you play them as I do? To hell with them all.
+Let us get out of the kip.
+
+He stood up, gravely ungirdled and disrobed himself of his gown, saying
+resignedly:
+
+--Mulligan is stripped of his garments.
+
+He emptied his pockets on to the table.
+
+--There's your snotrag, he said.
+
+And putting on his stiff collar and rebellious tie he spoke to them,
+chiding them, and to his dangling watchchain. His hands plunged and
+rummaged in his trunk while he called for a clean handkerchief. God,
+we'll simply have to dress the character. I want puce gloves and
+green boots. Contradiction. Do I contradict myself? Very well then, I
+contradict myself. Mercurial Malachi. A limp black missile flew out of
+his talking hands.
+
+--And there's your Latin quarter hat, he said.
+
+Stephen picked it up and put it on. Haines called to them from the
+doorway:
+
+--Are you coming, you fellows?
+
+--I'm ready, Buck Mulligan answered, going towards the door. Come out,
+Kinch. You have eaten all we left, I suppose. Resigned he passed out
+with grave words and gait, saying, wellnigh with sorrow:
+
+--And going forth he met Butterly.
+
+Stephen, taking his ashplant from its leaningplace, followed them out
+and, as they went down the ladder, pulled to the slow iron door and
+locked it. He put the huge key in his inner pocket.
+
+At the foot of the ladder Buck Mulligan asked:
+
+--Did you bring the key?
+
+--I have it, Stephen said, preceding them.
+
+He walked on. Behind him he heard Buck Mulligan club with his heavy
+bathtowel the leader shoots of ferns or grasses.
+
+--Down, sir! How dare you, sir!
+
+Haines asked:
+
+--Do you pay rent for this tower?
+
+--Twelve quid, Buck Mulligan said.
+
+--To the secretary of state for war, Stephen added over his shoulder.
+
+They halted while Haines surveyed the tower and said at last:
+
+--Rather bleak in wintertime, I should say. Martello you call it?
+
+--Billy Pitt had them built, Buck Mulligan said, when the French were on
+the sea. But ours is the _omphalos_.
+
+--What is your idea of Hamlet? Haines asked Stephen.
+
+--No, no, Buck Mulligan shouted in pain. I'm not equal to Thomas Aquinas
+and the fiftyfive reasons he has made out to prop it up. Wait till I
+have a few pints in me first.
+
+He turned to Stephen, saying, as he pulled down neatly the peaks of his
+primrose waistcoat:
+
+--You couldn't manage it under three pints, Kinch, could you?
+
+--It has waited so long, Stephen said listlessly, it can wait longer.
+
+--You pique my curiosity, Haines said amiably. Is it some paradox?
+
+--Pooh! Buck Mulligan said. We have grown out of Wilde and paradoxes.
+It's quite simple. He proves by algebra that Hamlet's grandson is
+Shakespeare's grandfather and that he himself is the ghost of his own
+father.
+
+--What? Haines said, beginning to point at Stephen. He himself?
+
+Buck Mulligan slung his towel stolewise round his neck and, bending in
+loose laughter, said to Stephen's ear:
+
+--O, shade of Kinch the elder! Japhet in search of a father!
+
+--We're always tired in the morning, Stephen said to Haines. And it is
+rather long to tell.
+
+Buck Mulligan, walking forward again, raised his hands.
+
+--The sacred pint alone can unbind the tongue of Dedalus, he said.
+
+--I mean to say, Haines explained to Stephen as they followed, this
+tower and these cliffs here remind me somehow of Elsinore. _That beetles
+o'er his base into the sea,_ isn't it?
+
+Buck Mulligan turned suddenly for an instant towards Stephen but did
+not speak. In the bright silent instant Stephen saw his own image in
+cheap dusty mourning between their gay attires.
+
+--It's a wonderful tale, Haines said, bringing them to halt again.
+
+Eyes, pale as the sea the wind had freshened, paler, firm and prudent.
+The seas' ruler, he gazed southward over the bay, empty save for the
+smokeplume of the mailboat vague on the bright skyline and a sail
+tacking by the Muglins.
+
+--I read a theological interpretation of it somewhere, he said bemused.
+The Father and the Son idea. The Son striving to be atoned with the
+Father.
+
+Buck Mulligan at once put on a blithe broadly smiling face. He looked
+at them, his wellshaped mouth open happily, his eyes, from which he had
+suddenly withdrawn all shrewd sense, blinking with mad gaiety. He moved
+a doll's head to and fro, the brims of his Panama hat quivering, and
+began to chant in a quiet happy foolish voice:
+
+ _--I'm the queerest young fellow that ever you heard.
+ My mother's a jew, my father's a bird.
+ With Joseph the joiner I cannot agree.
+ So here's to disciples and Calvary._
+
+
+He held up a forefinger of warning.
+
+ _--If anyone thinks that I amn't divine
+ He'll get no free drinks when I'm making the wine
+ But have to drink water and wish it were plain
+ That i make when the wine becomes water again._
+
+
+He tugged swiftly at Stephen's ashplant in farewell and, running forward
+to a brow of the cliff, fluttered his hands at his sides like fins or
+wings of one about to rise in the air, and chanted:
+
+ _--Goodbye, now, goodbye! Write down all I said
+ And tell Tom, Dick and Harry I rose from the dead.
+ What's bred in the bone cannot fail me to fly
+ And Olivet's breezy... Goodbye, now, goodbye!_
+
+
+He capered before them down towards the fortyfoot hole, fluttering his
+winglike hands, leaping nimbly, Mercury's hat quivering in the fresh
+wind that bore back to them his brief birdsweet cries.
+
+Haines, who had been laughing guardedly, walked on beside Stephen and
+said:
+
+--We oughtn't to laugh, I suppose. He's rather blasphemous. I'm not a
+believer myself, that is to say. Still his gaiety takes the harm out of
+it somehow, doesn't it? What did he call it? Joseph the Joiner?
+
+--The ballad of joking Jesus, Stephen answered.
+
+--O, Haines said, you have heard it before?
+
+--Three times a day, after meals, Stephen said drily.
+
+--You're not a believer, are you? Haines asked. I mean, a believer in
+the narrow sense of the word. Creation from nothing and miracles and a
+personal God.
+
+--There's only one sense of the word, it seems to me, Stephen said.
+
+Haines stopped to take out a smooth silver case in which twinkled a
+green stone. He sprang it open with his thumb and offered it.
+
+--Thank you, Stephen said, taking a cigarette.
+
+Haines helped himself and snapped the case to. He put it back in his
+sidepocket and took from his waistcoatpocket a nickel tinderbox, sprang
+it open too, and, having lit his cigarette, held the flaming spunk
+towards Stephen in the shell of his hands.
+
+--Yes, of course, he said, as they went on again. Either you believe
+or you don't, isn't it? Personally I couldn't stomach that idea of a
+personal God. You don't stand for that, I suppose?
+
+--You behold in me, Stephen said with grim displeasure, a horrible
+example of free thought.
+
+He walked on, waiting to be spoken to, trailing his ashplant by his
+side. Its ferrule followed lightly on the path, squealing at his heels.
+My familiar, after me, calling, Steeeeeeeeeeeephen! A wavering line
+along the path. They will walk on it tonight, coming here in the dark.
+He wants that key. It is mine. I paid the rent. Now I eat his salt
+bread. Give him the key too. All. He will ask for it. That was in his
+eyes.
+
+--After all, Haines began...
+
+Stephen turned and saw that the cold gaze which had measured him was not
+all unkind.
+
+--After all, I should think you are able to free yourself. You are your
+own master, it seems to me.
+
+--I am a servant of two masters, Stephen said, an English and an
+Italian.
+
+--Italian? Haines said.
+
+A crazy queen, old and jealous. Kneel down before me.
+
+--And a third, Stephen said, there is who wants me for odd jobs.
+
+--Italian? Haines said again. What do you mean?
+
+--The imperial British state, Stephen answered, his colour rising, and
+the holy Roman catholic and apostolic church.
+
+Haines detached from his underlip some fibres of tobacco before he
+spoke.
+
+--I can quite understand that, he said calmly. An Irishman must think
+like that, I daresay. We feel in England that we have treated you rather
+unfairly. It seems history is to blame.
+
+The proud potent titles clanged over Stephen's memory the triumph
+of their brazen bells: _et unam sanctam catholicam et apostolicam
+ecclesiam:_ the slow growth and change of rite and dogma like his own
+rare thoughts, a chemistry of stars. Symbol of the apostles in the
+mass for pope Marcellus, the voices blended, singing alone loud in
+affirmation: and behind their chant the vigilant angel of the church
+militant disarmed and menaced her heresiarchs. A horde of heresies
+fleeing with mitres awry: Photius and the brood of mockers of
+whom Mulligan was one, and Arius, warring his life long upon the
+consubstantiality of the Son with the Father, and Valentine, spurning
+Christ's terrene body, and the subtle African heresiarch Sabellius who
+held that the Father was Himself His own Son. Words Mulligan had spoken
+a moment since in mockery to the stranger. Idle mockery. The void
+awaits surely all them that weave the wind: a menace, a disarming and a
+worsting from those embattled angels of the church, Michael's host,
+who defend her ever in the hour of conflict with their lances and their
+shields.
+
+Hear, hear! Prolonged applause. _Zut! Nom de Dieu!_
+
+--Of course I'm a Britisher, Haines's voice said, and I feel as one. I
+don't want to see my country fall into the hands of German jews either.
+That's our national problem, I'm afraid, just now.
+
+Two men stood at the verge of the cliff, watching: businessman, boatman.
+
+--She's making for Bullock harbour.
+
+The boatman nodded towards the north of the bay with some disdain.
+
+--There's five fathoms out there, he said. It'll be swept up that way
+when the tide comes in about one. It's nine days today.
+
+The man that was drowned. A sail veering about the blank bay waiting
+for a swollen bundle to bob up, roll over to the sun a puffy face,
+saltwhite. Here I am.
+
+They followed the winding path down to the creek. Buck Mulligan stood on
+a stone, in shirtsleeves, his unclipped tie rippling over his shoulder.
+A young man clinging to a spur of rock near him, moved slowly frogwise
+his green legs in the deep jelly of the water.
+
+--Is the brother with you, Malachi?
+
+--Down in Westmeath. With the Bannons.
+
+--Still there? I got a card from Bannon. Says he found a sweet young
+thing down there. Photo girl he calls her.
+
+--Snapshot, eh? Brief exposure.
+
+Buck Mulligan sat down to unlace his boots. An elderly man shot up near
+the spur of rock a blowing red face. He scrambled up by the stones,
+water glistening on his pate and on its garland of grey hair, water
+rilling over his chest and paunch and spilling jets out of his black
+sagging loincloth.
+
+Buck Mulligan made way for him to scramble past and, glancing at Haines
+and Stephen, crossed himself piously with his thumbnail at brow and lips
+and breastbone.
+
+--Seymour's back in town, the young man said, grasping again his spur of
+rock. Chucked medicine and going in for the army.
+
+--Ah, go to God! Buck Mulligan said.
+
+--Going over next week to stew. You know that red Carlisle girl, Lily?
+
+--Yes.
+
+--Spooning with him last night on the pier. The father is rotto with
+money.
+
+--Is she up the pole?
+
+--Better ask Seymour that.
+
+--Seymour a bleeding officer! Buck Mulligan said.
+
+He nodded to himself as he drew off his trousers and stood up, saying
+tritely:
+
+--Redheaded women buck like goats.
+
+He broke off in alarm, feeling his side under his flapping shirt.
+
+--My twelfth rib is gone, he cried. I'm the _Uebermensch._ Toothless
+Kinch and I, the supermen.
+
+He struggled out of his shirt and flung it behind him to where his
+clothes lay.
+
+--Are you going in here, Malachi?
+
+--Yes. Make room in the bed.
+
+The young man shoved himself backward through the water and reached
+the middle of the creek in two long clean strokes. Haines sat down on a
+stone, smoking.
+
+--Are you not coming in? Buck Mulligan asked.
+
+--Later on, Haines said. Not on my breakfast.
+
+Stephen turned away.
+
+--I'm going, Mulligan, he said.
+
+--Give us that key, Kinch, Buck Mulligan said, to keep my chemise flat.
+
+Stephen handed him the key. Buck Mulligan laid it across his heaped
+clothes.
+
+--And twopence, he said, for a pint. Throw it there.
+
+Stephen threw two pennies on the soft heap. Dressing, undressing. Buck
+Mulligan erect, with joined hands before him, said solemnly:
+
+--He who stealeth from the poor lendeth to the Lord. Thus spake
+Zarathustra.
+
+His plump body plunged.
+
+--We'll see you again, Haines said, turning as Stephen walked up the
+path and smiling at wild Irish.
+
+Horn of a bull, hoof of a horse, smile of a Saxon.
+
+--The Ship, Buck Mulligan cried. Half twelve.
+
+--Good, Stephen said.
+
+He walked along the upwardcurving path.
+
+ _Liliata rutilantium.
+ Turma circumdet.
+ Iubilantium te virginum._
+
+
+The priest's grey nimbus in a niche where he dressed discreetly. I will
+not sleep here tonight. Home also I cannot go.
+
+A voice, sweettoned and sustained, called to him from the sea. Turning
+the curve he waved his hand. It called again. A sleek brown head, a
+seal's, far out on the water, round.
+
+Usurper.
+
+
+
+--You, Cochrane, what city sent for him?
+
+--Tarentum, sir.
+
+--Very good. Well?
+
+--There was a battle, sir.
+
+--Very good. Where?
+
+The boy's blank face asked the blank window.
+
+Fabled by the daughters of memory. And yet it was in some way if not as
+memory fabled it. A phrase, then, of impatience, thud of Blake's wings
+of excess. I hear the ruin of all space, shattered glass and toppling
+masonry, and time one livid final flame. What's left us then?
+
+--I forget the place, sir. 279 B. C.
+
+--Asculum, Stephen said, glancing at the name and date in the
+gorescarred book.
+
+--Yes, sir. And he said: _Another victory like that and we are done
+for._
+
+That phrase the world had remembered. A dull ease of the mind. From
+a hill above a corpsestrewn plain a general speaking to his officers,
+leaned upon his spear. Any general to any officers. They lend ear.
+
+--You, Armstrong, Stephen said. What was the end of Pyrrhus?
+
+--End of Pyrrhus, sir?
+
+--I know, sir. Ask me, sir, Comyn said.
+
+--Wait. You, Armstrong. Do you know anything about Pyrrhus?
+
+A bag of figrolls lay snugly in Armstrong's satchel. He curled them
+between his palms at whiles and swallowed them softly. Crumbs adhered to
+the tissue of his lips. A sweetened boy's breath. Welloff people, proud
+that their eldest son was in the navy. Vico road, Dalkey.
+
+--Pyrrhus, sir? Pyrrhus, a pier.
+
+All laughed. Mirthless high malicious laughter. Armstrong looked round
+at his classmates, silly glee in profile. In a moment they will laugh
+more loudly, aware of my lack of rule and of the fees their papas pay.
+
+--Tell me now, Stephen said, poking the boy's shoulder with the book,
+what is a pier.
+
+--A pier, sir, Armstrong said. A thing out in the water. A kind of a
+bridge. Kingstown pier, sir.
+
+Some laughed again: mirthless but with meaning. Two in the back bench
+whispered. Yes. They knew: had never learned nor ever been innocent.
+All. With envy he watched their faces: Edith, Ethel, Gerty, Lily. Their
+likes: their breaths, too, sweetened with tea and jam, their bracelets
+tittering in the struggle.
+
+--Kingstown pier, Stephen said. Yes, a disappointed bridge.
+
+The words troubled their gaze.
+
+--How, sir? Comyn asked. A bridge is across a river.
+
+For Haines's chapbook. No-one here to hear. Tonight deftly amid wild
+drink and talk, to pierce the polished mail of his mind. What then? A
+jester at the court of his master, indulged and disesteemed, winning a
+clement master's praise. Why had they chosen all that part? Not wholly
+for the smooth caress. For them too history was a tale like any other
+too often heard, their land a pawnshop.
+
+Had Pyrrhus not fallen by a beldam's hand in Argos or Julius Caesar not
+been knifed to death. They are not to be thought away. Time has
+branded them and fettered they are lodged in the room of the infinite
+possibilities they have ousted. But can those have been possible seeing
+that they never were? Or was that only possible which came to pass?
+Weave, weaver of the wind.
+
+--Tell us a story, sir.
+
+--O, do, sir. A ghoststory.
+
+--Where do you begin in this? Stephen asked, opening another book.
+
+-_-Weep no more,_ Comyn said.
+
+--Go on then, Talbot.
+
+--And the story, sir?
+
+--After, Stephen said. Go on, Talbot.
+
+A swarthy boy opened a book and propped it nimbly under the breastwork
+of his satchel. He recited jerks of verse with odd glances at the text:
+
+ _--Weep no more, woful shepherds, weep no more
+ For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead,
+ Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor..._
+
+
+It must be a movement then, an actuality of the possible as possible.
+Aristotle's phrase formed itself within the gabbled verses and floated
+out into the studious silence of the library of Saint Genevieve where he
+had read, sheltered from the sin of Paris, night by night. By his elbow
+a delicate Siamese conned a handbook of strategy. Fed and feeding brains
+about me: under glowlamps, impaled, with faintly beating feelers: and
+in my mind's darkness a sloth of the underworld, reluctant, shy of
+brightness, shifting her dragon scaly folds. Thought is the thought of
+thought. Tranquil brightness. The soul is in a manner all that is: the
+soul is the form of forms. Tranquility sudden, vast, candescent: form of
+forms.
+
+Talbot repeated:
+
+ _--Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves,
+ Through the dear might..._
+
+
+--Turn over, Stephen said quietly. I don't see anything.
+
+--What, sir? Talbot asked simply, bending forward.
+
+His hand turned the page over. He leaned back and went on again, having
+just remembered. Of him that walked the waves. Here also over these
+craven hearts his shadow lies and on the scoffer's heart and lips and
+on mine. It lies upon their eager faces who offered him a coin of the
+tribute. To Caesar what is Caesar's, to God what is God's. A long
+look from dark eyes, a riddling sentence to be woven and woven on the
+church's looms. Ay.
+
+ _Riddle me, riddle me, randy ro.
+ My father gave me seeds to sow._
+
+
+Talbot slid his closed book into his satchel.
+
+--Have I heard all? Stephen asked.
+
+--Yes, sir. Hockey at ten, sir.
+
+--Half day, sir. Thursday.
+
+--Who can answer a riddle? Stephen asked.
+
+They bundled their books away, pencils clacking, pages rustling.
+Crowding together they strapped and buckled their satchels, all gabbling
+gaily:
+
+--A riddle, sir? Ask me, sir.
+
+--O, ask me, sir.
+
+--A hard one, sir.
+
+--This is the riddle, Stephen said:
+
+ _The cock crew,
+ The sky was blue:
+ The bells in heaven
+ Were striking eleven.
+ 'Tis time for this poor soul
+ To go to heaven._
+
+
+What is that?
+
+--What, sir?
+
+--Again, sir. We didn't hear.
+
+Their eyes grew bigger as the lines were repeated. After a silence
+Cochrane said:
+
+--What is it, sir? We give it up.
+
+Stephen, his throat itching, answered:
+
+--The fox burying his grandmother under a hollybush.
+
+He stood up and gave a shout of nervous laughter to which their cries
+echoed dismay.
+
+A stick struck the door and a voice in the corridor called:
+
+--Hockey!
+
+They broke asunder, sidling out of their benches, leaping them. Quickly
+they were gone and from the lumberroom came the rattle of sticks and
+clamour of their boots and tongues.
+
+Sargent who alone had lingered came forward slowly, showing an open
+copybook. His thick hair and scraggy neck gave witness of unreadiness
+and through his misty glasses weak eyes looked up pleading. On his
+cheek, dull and bloodless, a soft stain of ink lay, dateshaped, recent
+and damp as a snail's bed.
+
+He held out his copybook. The word _Sums_ was written on the headline.
+Beneath were sloping figures and at the foot a crooked signature with
+blind loops and a blot. Cyril Sargent: his name and seal.
+
+--Mr Deasy told me to write them out all again, he said, and show them
+to you, sir.
+
+Stephen touched the edges of the book. Futility.
+
+--Do you understand how to do them now? he asked.
+
+--Numbers eleven to fifteen, Sargent answered. Mr Deasy said I was to
+copy them off the board, sir.
+
+--Can you do them yourself? Stephen asked.
+
+--No, sir.
+
+Ugly and futile: lean neck and thick hair and a stain of ink, a snail's
+bed. Yet someone had loved him, borne him in her arms and in her heart.
+But for her the race of the world would have trampled him underfoot,
+a squashed boneless snail. She had loved his weak watery blood drained
+from her own. Was that then real? The only true thing in life? His
+mother's prostrate body the fiery Columbanus in holy zeal bestrode.
+She was no more: the trembling skeleton of a twig burnt in the fire,
+an odour of rosewood and wetted ashes. She had saved him from being
+trampled underfoot and had gone, scarcely having been. A poor soul
+gone to heaven: and on a heath beneath winking stars a fox, red reek
+of rapine in his fur, with merciless bright eyes scraped in the earth,
+listened, scraped up the earth, listened, scraped and scraped.
+
+Sitting at his side Stephen solved out the problem. He proves by algebra
+that Shakespeare's ghost is Hamlet's grandfather. Sargent peered askance
+through his slanted glasses. Hockeysticks rattled in the lumberroom: the
+hollow knock of a ball and calls from the field.
+
+Across the page the symbols moved in grave morrice, in the mummery of
+their letters, wearing quaint caps of squares and cubes. Give hands,
+traverse, bow to partner: so: imps of fancy of the Moors. Gone too from
+the world, Averroes and Moses Maimonides, dark men in mien and movement,
+flashing in their mocking mirrors the obscure soul of the world, a
+darkness shining in brightness which brightness could not comprehend.
+
+--Do you understand now? Can you work the second for yourself?
+
+--Yes, sir.
+
+In long shaky strokes Sargent copied the data. Waiting always for a word
+of help his hand moved faithfully the unsteady symbols, a faint hue of
+shame flickering behind his dull skin. _Amor matris:_ subjective and
+objective genitive. With her weak blood and wheysour milk she had fed
+him and hid from sight of others his swaddling bands.
+
+Like him was I, these sloping shoulders, this gracelessness. My
+childhood bends beside me. Too far for me to lay a hand there once or
+lightly. Mine is far and his secret as our eyes. Secrets, silent, stony
+sit in the dark palaces of both our hearts: secrets weary of their
+tyranny: tyrants, willing to be dethroned.
+
+The sum was done.
+
+--It is very simple, Stephen said as he stood up.
+
+--Yes, sir. Thanks, Sargent answered.
+
+He dried the page with a sheet of thin blottingpaper and carried his
+copybook back to his bench.
+
+--You had better get your stick and go out to the others, Stephen said
+as he followed towards the door the boy's graceless form.
+
+--Yes, sir.
+
+In the corridor his name was heard, called from the playfield.
+
+--Sargent!
+
+--Run on, Stephen said. Mr Deasy is calling you.
+
+He stood in the porch and watched the laggard hurry towards the scrappy
+field where sharp voices were in strife. They were sorted in teams and
+Mr Deasy came away stepping over wisps of grass with gaitered feet. When
+he had reached the schoolhouse voices again contending called to him. He
+turned his angry white moustache.
+
+--What is it now? he cried continually without listening.
+
+--Cochrane and Halliday are on the same side, sir, Stephen said.
+
+--Will you wait in my study for a moment, Mr Deasy said, till I restore
+order here.
+
+And as he stepped fussily back across the field his old man's voice
+cried sternly:
+
+--What is the matter? What is it now?
+
+Their sharp voices cried about him on all sides: their many forms closed
+round him, the garish sunshine bleaching the honey of his illdyed head.
+
+Stale smoky air hung in the study with the smell of drab abraded leather
+of its chairs. As on the first day he bargained with me here. As it was
+in the beginning, is now. On the sideboard the tray of Stuart coins,
+base treasure of a bog: and ever shall be. And snug in their spooncase
+of purple plush, faded, the twelve apostles having preached to all the
+gentiles: world without end.
+
+A hasty step over the stone porch and in the corridor. Blowing out his
+rare moustache Mr Deasy halted at the table.
+
+--First, our little financial settlement, he said.
+
+He brought out of his coat a pocketbook bound by a leather thong. It
+slapped open and he took from it two notes, one of joined halves, and
+laid them carefully on the table.
+
+--Two, he said, strapping and stowing his pocketbook away.
+
+And now his strongroom for the gold. Stephen's embarrassed hand moved
+over the shells heaped in the cold stone mortar: whelks and money
+cowries and leopard shells: and this, whorled as an emir's turban, and
+this, the scallop of saint James. An old pilgrim's hoard, dead treasure,
+hollow shells.
+
+A sovereign fell, bright and new, on the soft pile of the tablecloth.
+
+--Three, Mr Deasy said, turning his little savingsbox about in his hand.
+These are handy things to have. See. This is for sovereigns. This is for
+shillings. Sixpences, halfcrowns. And here crowns. See.
+
+He shot from it two crowns and two shillings.
+
+--Three twelve, he said. I think you'll find that's right.
+
+--Thank you, sir, Stephen said, gathering the money together with shy
+haste and putting it all in a pocket of his trousers.
+
+--No thanks at all, Mr Deasy said. You have earned it.
+
+Stephen's hand, free again, went back to the hollow shells. Symbols too
+of beauty and of power. A lump in my pocket: symbols soiled by greed and
+misery.
+
+--Don't carry it like that, Mr Deasy said. You'll pull it out somewhere
+and lose it. You just buy one of these machines. You'll find them very
+handy.
+
+Answer something.
+
+--Mine would be often empty, Stephen said.
+
+The same room and hour, the same wisdom: and I the same. Three times
+now. Three nooses round me here. Well? I can break them in this instant
+if I will.
+
+--Because you don't save, Mr Deasy said, pointing his finger. You don't
+know yet what money is. Money is power. When you have lived as long as I
+have. I know, I know. If youth but knew. But what does Shakespeare say?
+_Put but money in thy purse._
+
+--Iago, Stephen murmured.
+
+He lifted his gaze from the idle shells to the old man's stare.
+
+--He knew what money was, Mr Deasy said. He made money. A poet, yes, but
+an Englishman too. Do you know what is the pride of the English? Do you
+know what is the proudest word you will ever hear from an Englishman's
+mouth?
+
+The seas' ruler. His seacold eyes looked on the empty bay: it seems
+history is to blame: on me and on my words, unhating.
+
+--That on his empire, Stephen said, the sun never sets.
+
+--Ba! Mr Deasy cried. That's not English. A French Celt said that. He
+tapped his savingsbox against his thumbnail.
+
+--I will tell you, he said solemnly, what is his proudest boast. _I paid
+my way._
+
+Good man, good man.
+
+_--I paid my way. I never borrowed a shilling in my life._ Can you feel
+that? _I owe nothing._ Can you?
+
+Mulligan, nine pounds, three pairs of socks, one pair brogues, ties.
+Curran, ten guineas. McCann, one guinea. Fred Ryan, two shillings.
+Temple, two lunches. Russell, one guinea, Cousins, ten shillings, Bob
+Reynolds, half a guinea, Koehler, three guineas, Mrs MacKernan, five
+weeks' board. The lump I have is useless.
+
+--For the moment, no, Stephen answered.
+
+Mr Deasy laughed with rich delight, putting back his savingsbox.
+
+--I knew you couldn't, he said joyously. But one day you must feel it.
+We are a generous people but we must also be just.
+
+--I fear those big words, Stephen said, which make us so unhappy.
+
+Mr Deasy stared sternly for some moments over the mantelpiece at the
+shapely bulk of a man in tartan filibegs: Albert Edward, prince of
+Wales.
+
+--You think me an old fogey and an old tory, his thoughtful voice said.
+I saw three generations since O'Connell's time. I remember the famine in
+'46. Do you know that the orange lodges agitated for repeal of the
+union twenty years before O'Connell did or before the prelates of your
+communion denounced him as a demagogue? You fenians forget some things.
+
+Glorious, pious and immortal memory. The lodge of Diamond in Armagh the
+splendid behung with corpses of papishes. Hoarse, masked and armed, the
+planters' covenant. The black north and true blue bible. Croppies lie
+down.
+
+Stephen sketched a brief gesture.
+
+--I have rebel blood in me too, Mr Deasy said. On the spindle side. But
+I am descended from sir John Blackwood who voted for the union. We are
+all Irish, all kings' sons.
+
+--Alas, Stephen said.
+
+--_Per vias rectas_, Mr Deasy said firmly, was his motto. He voted for
+it and put on his topboots to ride to Dublin from the Ards of Down to do
+so.
+
+ _Lal the ral the ra
+ The rocky road to Dublin._
+
+
+A gruff squire on horseback with shiny topboots. Soft day, sir John!
+Soft day, your honour!... Day!... Day!... Two topboots jog dangling
+on to Dublin. Lal the ral the ra. Lal the ral the raddy.
+
+--That reminds me, Mr Deasy said. You can do me a favour, Mr Dedalus,
+with some of your literary friends. I have a letter here for the press.
+Sit down a moment. I have just to copy the end.
+
+He went to the desk near the window, pulled in his chair twice and read
+off some words from the sheet on the drum of his typewriter.
+
+--Sit down. Excuse me, he said over his shoulder, _the dictates of
+common sense._ Just a moment.
+
+He peered from under his shaggy brows at the manuscript by his elbow
+and, muttering, began to prod the stiff buttons of the keyboard slowly,
+sometimes blowing as he screwed up the drum to erase an error.
+
+Stephen seated himself noiselessly before the princely presence. Framed
+around the walls images of vanished horses stood in homage, their meek
+heads poised in air: lord Hastings' Repulse, the duke of Westminster's
+Shotover, the duke of Beaufort's Ceylon, _prix de Paris_, 1866. Elfin
+riders sat them, watchful of a sign. He saw their speeds, backing king's
+colours, and shouted with the shouts of vanished crowds.
+
+--Full stop, Mr Deasy bade his keys. But prompt ventilation of this
+allimportant question...
+
+Where Cranly led me to get rich quick, hunting his winners among the
+mudsplashed brakes, amid the bawls of bookies on their pitches and reek
+of the canteen, over the motley slush. Fair Rebel! Fair Rebel! Even
+money the favourite: ten to one the field. Dicers and thimbleriggers
+we hurried by after the hoofs, the vying caps and jackets and past
+the meatfaced woman, a butcher's dame, nuzzling thirstily her clove of
+orange.
+
+Shouts rang shrill from the boys' playfield and a whirring whistle.
+
+Again: a goal. I am among them, among their battling bodies in a medley,
+the joust of life. You mean that knockkneed mother's darling who seems
+to be slightly crawsick? Jousts. Time shocked rebounds, shock by shock.
+Jousts, slush and uproar of battles, the frozen deathspew of the slain,
+a shout of spearspikes baited with men's bloodied guts.
+
+--Now then, Mr Deasy said, rising.
+
+He came to the table, pinning together his sheets. Stephen stood up.
+
+--I have put the matter into a nutshell, Mr Deasy said. It's about
+the foot and mouth disease. Just look through it. There can be no two
+opinions on the matter.
+
+May I trespass on your valuable space. That doctrine of _laissez faire_
+which so often in our history. Our cattle trade. The way of all our old
+industries. Liverpool ring which jockeyed the Galway harbour scheme.
+European conflagration. Grain supplies through the narrow waters of
+the channel. The pluterperfect imperturbability of the department of
+agriculture. Pardoned a classical allusion. Cassandra. By a woman who
+was no better than she should be. To come to the point at issue.
+
+--I don't mince words, do I? Mr Deasy asked as Stephen read on.
+
+Foot and mouth disease. Known as Koch's preparation. Serum and virus.
+Percentage of salted horses. Rinderpest. Emperor's horses at Murzsteg,
+lower Austria. Veterinary surgeons. Mr Henry Blackwood Price. Courteous
+offer a fair trial. Dictates of common sense. Allimportant question. In
+every sense of the word take the bull by the horns. Thanking you for the
+hospitality of your columns.
+
+--I want that to be printed and read, Mr Deasy said. You will see at the
+next outbreak they will put an embargo on Irish cattle. And it can
+be cured. It is cured. My cousin, Blackwood Price, writes to me it is
+regularly treated and cured in Austria by cattledoctors there. They
+offer to come over here. I am trying to work up influence with
+the department. Now I'm going to try publicity. I am surrounded by
+difficulties, by... intrigues by... backstairs influence by...
+
+He raised his forefinger and beat the air oldly before his voice spoke.
+
+--Mark my words, Mr Dedalus, he said. England is in the hands of the
+jews. In all the highest places: her finance, her press. And they are
+the signs of a nation's decay. Wherever they gather they eat up the
+nation's vital strength. I have seen it coming these years. As sure
+as we are standing here the jew merchants are already at their work of
+destruction. Old England is dying.
+
+He stepped swiftly off, his eyes coming to blue life as they passed a
+broad sunbeam. He faced about and back again.
+
+--Dying, he said again, if not dead by now.
+
+ _The harlot's cry from street to street
+ Shall weave old England's windingsheet._
+
+
+His eyes open wide in vision stared sternly across the sunbeam in which
+he halted.
+
+--A merchant, Stephen said, is one who buys cheap and sells dear, jew or
+gentile, is he not?
+
+--They sinned against the light, Mr Deasy said gravely. And you can see
+the darkness in their eyes. And that is why they are wanderers on the
+earth to this day.
+
+On the steps of the Paris stock exchange the goldskinned men quoting
+prices on their gemmed fingers. Gabble of geese. They swarmed loud,
+uncouth about the temple, their heads thickplotting under maladroit silk
+hats. Not theirs: these clothes, this speech, these gestures. Their full
+slow eyes belied the words, the gestures eager and unoffending, but
+knew the rancours massed about them and knew their zeal was vain. Vain
+patience to heap and hoard. Time surely would scatter all. A hoard
+heaped by the roadside: plundered and passing on. Their eyes knew their
+years of wandering and, patient, knew the dishonours of their flesh.
+
+--Who has not? Stephen said.
+
+--What do you mean? Mr Deasy asked.
+
+He came forward a pace and stood by the table. His underjaw fell
+sideways open uncertainly. Is this old wisdom? He waits to hear from me.
+
+--History, Stephen said, is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake.
+
+From the playfield the boys raised a shout. A whirring whistle: goal.
+What if that nightmare gave you a back kick?
+
+--The ways of the Creator are not our ways, Mr Deasy said. All human
+history moves towards one great goal, the manifestation of God.
+
+Stephen jerked his thumb towards the window, saying:
+
+--That is God.
+
+Hooray! Ay! Whrrwhee!
+
+--What? Mr Deasy asked.
+
+--A shout in the street, Stephen answered, shrugging his shoulders.
+
+Mr Deasy looked down and held for awhile the wings of his nose tweaked
+between his fingers. Looking up again he set them free.
+
+--I am happier than you are, he said. We have committed many errors and
+many sins. A woman brought sin into the world. For a woman who was no
+better than she should be, Helen, the runaway wife of Menelaus, ten
+years the Greeks made war on Troy. A faithless wife first brought the
+strangers to our shore here, MacMurrough's wife and her leman, O'Rourke,
+prince of Breffni. A woman too brought Parnell low. Many errors, many
+failures but not the one sin. I am a struggler now at the end of my
+days. But I will fight for the right till the end.
+
+ _For Ulster will fight
+ And Ulster will be right._
+
+
+Stephen raised the sheets in his hand.
+
+--Well, sir, he began...
+
+--I foresee, Mr Deasy said, that you will not remain here very long
+at this work. You were not born to be a teacher, I think. Perhaps I am
+wrong.
+
+--A learner rather, Stephen said.
+
+And here what will you learn more?
+
+Mr Deasy shook his head.
+
+--Who knows? he said. To learn one must be humble. But life is the great
+teacher.
+
+Stephen rustled the sheets again.
+
+--As regards these, he began.
+
+--Yes, Mr Deasy said. You have two copies there. If you can have them
+published at once.
+
+_ Telegraph. Irish Homestead._
+
+--I will try, Stephen said, and let you know tomorrow. I know two
+editors slightly.
+
+--That will do, Mr Deasy said briskly. I wrote last night to Mr Field,
+M.P. There is a meeting of the cattletraders' association today at the
+City Arms hotel. I asked him to lay my letter before the meeting. You
+see if you can get it into your two papers. What are they?
+
+_--The Evening Telegraph..._
+
+--That will do, Mr Deasy said. There is no time to lose. Now I have to
+answer that letter from my cousin.
+
+--Good morning, sir, Stephen said, putting the sheets in his pocket.
+Thank you.
+
+--Not at all, Mr Deasy said as he searched the papers on his desk. I
+like to break a lance with you, old as I am.
+
+--Good morning, sir, Stephen said again, bowing to his bent back.
+
+He went out by the open porch and down the gravel path under the trees,
+hearing the cries of voices and crack of sticks from the playfield.
+The lions couchant on the pillars as he passed out through the gate:
+toothless terrors. Still I will help him in his fight. Mulligan will dub
+me a new name: the bullockbefriending bard.
+
+--Mr Dedalus!
+
+Running after me. No more letters, I hope.
+
+--Just one moment.
+
+--Yes, sir, Stephen said, turning back at the gate.
+
+Mr Deasy halted, breathing hard and swallowing his breath.
+
+--I just wanted to say, he said. Ireland, they say, has the honour of
+being the only country which never persecuted the jews. Do you know
+that? No. And do you know why?
+
+He frowned sternly on the bright air.
+
+--Why, sir? Stephen asked, beginning to smile.
+
+--Because she never let them in, Mr Deasy said solemnly.
+
+A coughball of laughter leaped from his throat dragging after it a
+rattling chain of phlegm. He turned back quickly, coughing, laughing,
+his lifted arms waving to the air.
+
+--She never let them in, he cried again through his laughter as he
+stamped on gaitered feet over the gravel of the path. That's why.
+
+On his wise shoulders through the checkerwork of leaves the sun flung
+spangles, dancing coins.
+
+
+Ineluctable modality of the visible: at least that if no more, thought
+through my eyes. Signatures of all things I am here to read, seaspawn
+and seawrack, the nearing tide, that rusty boot. Snotgreen, bluesilver,
+rust: coloured signs. Limits of the diaphane. But he adds: in bodies.
+Then he was aware of them bodies before of them coloured. How? By
+knocking his sconce against them, sure. Go easy. Bald he was and a
+millionaire, _maestro di color che sanno_. Limit of the diaphane in. Why
+in? Diaphane, adiaphane. If you can put your five fingers through it it
+is a gate, if not a door. Shut your eyes and see.
+
+
+Stephen closed his eyes to hear his boots crush crackling wrack and
+shells. You are walking through it howsomever. I am, a stride at a time.
+A very short space of time through very short times of space. Five, six:
+the _nacheinander_. Exactly: and that is the ineluctable modality of the
+audible. Open your eyes. No. Jesus! If I fell over a cliff that beetles
+o'er his base, fell through the _nebeneinander_ ineluctably! I am
+getting on nicely in the dark. My ash sword hangs at my side. Tap with
+it: they do. My two feet in his boots are at the ends of his legs,
+_nebeneinander_. Sounds solid: made by the mallet of _Los Demiurgos_.
+Am I walking into eternity along Sandymount strand? Crush, crack, crick,
+crick. Wild sea money. Dominie Deasy kens them a'. Won't you come to
+Sandymount, Madeline the mare?
+
+
+Rhythm begins, you see. I hear. Acatalectic tetrameter of iambs
+marching. No, agallop: _deline the mare_.
+
+Open your eyes now. I will. One moment. Has all vanished since? If I
+open and am for ever in the black adiaphane. _Basta_! I will see if I
+can see.
+
+See now. There all the time without you: and ever shall be, world
+without end.
+
+They came down the steps from Leahy's terrace prudently, _Frauenzimmer_:
+and down the shelving shore flabbily, their splayed feet sinking in
+the silted sand. Like me, like Algy, coming down to our mighty mother.
+Number one swung lourdily her midwife's bag, the other's gamp poked in
+the beach. From the liberties, out for the day. Mrs Florence MacCabe,
+relict of the late Patk MacCabe, deeply lamented, of Bride Street. One
+of her sisterhood lugged me squealing into life. Creation from nothing.
+What has she in the bag? A misbirth with a trailing navelcord, hushed
+in ruddy wool. The cords of all link back, strandentwining cable of
+all flesh. That is why mystic monks. Will you be as gods? Gaze in your
+omphalos. Hello! Kinch here. Put me on to Edenville. Aleph, alpha:
+nought, nought, one.
+
+Spouse and helpmate of Adam Kadmon: Heva, naked Eve. She had no navel.
+Gaze. Belly without blemish, bulging big, a buckler of taut vellum,
+no, whiteheaped corn, orient and immortal, standing from everlasting to
+everlasting. Womb of sin.
+
+Wombed in sin darkness I was too, made not begotten. By them, the man
+with my voice and my eyes and a ghostwoman with ashes on her breath.
+They clasped and sundered, did the coupler's will. From before the ages
+He willed me and now may not will me away or ever. A _lex eterna_ stays
+about Him. Is that then the divine substance wherein Father and Son are
+consubstantial? Where is poor dear Arius to try conclusions? Warring
+his life long upon the contransmagnificandjewbangtantiality. Illstarred
+heresiarch' In a Greek watercloset he breathed his last: euthanasia.
+With beaded mitre and with crozier, stalled upon his throne, widower of
+a widowed see, with upstiffed omophorion, with clotted hinderparts.
+
+Airs romped round him, nipping and eager airs. They are coming, waves.
+The whitemaned seahorses, champing, brightwindbridled, the steeds of
+Mananaan.
+
+I mustn't forget his letter for the press. And after? The Ship, half
+twelve. By the way go easy with that money like a good young imbecile.
+
+Yes, I must.
+
+His pace slackened. Here. Am I going to aunt Sara's or not? My
+consubstantial father's voice. Did you see anything of your artist
+brother Stephen lately? No? Sure he's not down in Strasburg terrace with
+his aunt Sally? Couldn't he fly a bit higher than that, eh? And and and
+and tell us, Stephen, how is uncle Si? O, weeping God, the things I
+married into! De boys up in de hayloft. The drunken little costdrawer
+and his brother, the cornet player. Highly respectable gondoliers! And
+skeweyed Walter sirring his father, no less! Sir. Yes, sir. No, sir.
+Jesus wept: and no wonder, by Christ!
+
+I pull the wheezy bell of their shuttered cottage: and wait. They take
+me for a dun, peer out from a coign of vantage.
+
+--It's Stephen, sir.
+
+--Let him in. Let Stephen in.
+
+A bolt drawn back and Walter welcomes me.
+
+--We thought you were someone else.
+
+In his broad bed nuncle Richie, pillowed and blanketed, extends over the
+hillock of his knees a sturdy forearm. Cleanchested. He has washed the
+upper moiety.
+
+--Morrow, nephew.
+
+He lays aside the lapboard whereon he drafts his bills of costs for
+the eyes of master Goff and master Shapland Tandy, filing consents and
+common searches and a writ of _Duces Tecum_. A bogoak frame over his
+bald head: Wilde's _Requiescat_. The drone of his misleading whistle
+brings Walter back.
+
+--Yes, sir?
+
+--Malt for Richie and Stephen, tell mother. Where is she?
+
+--Bathing Crissie, sir.
+
+Papa's little bedpal. Lump of love.
+
+--No, uncle Richie...
+
+--Call me Richie. Damn your lithia water. It lowers. Whusky!
+
+--Uncle Richie, really...
+
+--Sit down or by the law Harry I'll knock you down.
+
+Walter squints vainly for a chair.
+
+--He has nothing to sit down on, sir.
+
+--He has nowhere to put it, you mug. Bring in our chippendale chair.
+Would you like a bite of something? None of your damned lawdeedaw airs
+here. The rich of a rasher fried with a herring? Sure? So much the
+better. We have nothing in the house but backache pills.
+
+_All'erta_!
+
+He drones bars of Ferrando's _aria di sortita_. The grandest number,
+Stephen, in the whole opera. Listen.
+
+His tuneful whistle sounds again, finely shaded, with rushes of the air,
+his fists bigdrumming on his padded knees.
+
+This wind is sweeter.
+
+Houses of decay, mine, his and all. You told the Clongowes gentry you
+had an uncle a judge and an uncle a general in the army. Come out of
+them, Stephen. Beauty is not there. Nor in the stagnant bay of Marsh's
+library where you read the fading prophecies of Joachim Abbas. For whom?
+The hundredheaded rabble of the cathedral close. A hater of his kind
+ran from them to the wood of madness, his mane foaming in the moon,
+his eyeballs stars. Houyhnhnm, horsenostrilled. The oval equine
+faces, Temple, Buck Mulligan, Foxy Campbell, Lanternjaws. Abbas
+father,--furious dean, what offence laid fire to their brains? Paff!
+_Descende, calve, ut ne amplius decalveris_. A garland of grey hair
+on his comminated head see him me clambering down to the footpace
+(_descende_!), clutching a monstrance, basiliskeyed. Get down, baldpoll!
+A choir gives back menace and echo, assisting about the altar's horns,
+the snorted Latin of jackpriests moving burly in their albs, tonsured
+and oiled and gelded, fat with the fat of kidneys of wheat.
+
+And at the same instant perhaps a priest round the corner is elevating
+it. Dringdring! And two streets off another locking it into a pyx.
+Dringadring! And in a ladychapel another taking housel all to his own
+cheek. Dringdring! Down, up, forward, back. Dan Occam thought of that,
+invincible doctor. A misty English morning the imp hypostasis tickled
+his brain. Bringing his host down and kneeling he heard twine with his
+second bell the first bell in the transept (he is lifting his) and,
+rising, heard (now I am lifting) their two bells (he is kneeling) twang
+in diphthong.
+
+Cousin Stephen, you will never be a saint. Isle of saints. You were
+awfully holy, weren't you? You prayed to the Blessed Virgin that you
+might not have a red nose. You prayed to the devil in Serpentine avenue
+that the fubsy widow in front might lift her clothes still more from the
+wet street. _O si, certo_! Sell your soul for that, do, dyed rags pinned
+round a squaw. More tell me, more still!! On the top of the Howth tram
+alone crying to the rain: Naked women! _naked women_! What about that,
+eh?
+
+What about what? What else were they invented for?
+
+Reading two pages apiece of seven books every night, eh? I was young.
+You bowed to yourself in the mirror, stepping forward to applause
+earnestly, striking face. Hurray for the Goddamned idiot! Hray! No-one
+saw: tell no-one. Books you were going to write with letters for titles.
+Have you read his F? O yes, but I prefer Q. Yes, but W is wonderful. O
+yes, W. Remember your epiphanies written on green oval leaves, deeply
+deep, copies to be sent if you died to all the great libraries of the
+world, including Alexandria? Someone was to read them there after a few
+thousand years, a mahamanvantara. Pico della Mirandola like. Ay, very
+like a whale. When one reads these strange pages of one long gone one
+feels that one is at one with one who once...
+
+The grainy sand had gone from under his feet. His boots trod again
+a damp crackling mast, razorshells, squeaking pebbles, that on the
+unnumbered pebbles beats, wood sieved by the shipworm, lost Armada.
+Unwholesome sandflats waited to suck his treading soles, breathing
+upward sewage breath, a pocket of seaweed smouldered in seafire under a
+midden of man's ashes. He coasted them, walking warily. A porterbottle
+stood up, stogged to its waist, in the cakey sand dough. A sentinel:
+isle of dreadful thirst. Broken hoops on the shore; at the land a maze
+of dark cunning nets; farther away chalkscrawled backdoors and on the
+higher beach a dryingline with two crucified shirts. Ringsend: wigwams
+of brown steersmen and master mariners. Human shells.
+
+He halted. I have passed the way to aunt Sara's. Am I not going there?
+Seems not. No-one about. He turned northeast and crossed the firmer sand
+towards the Pigeonhouse.
+
+_--Qui vous a mis dans cette fichue position?_
+
+_--c'est le pigeon, Joseph._
+
+Patrice, home on furlough, lapped warm milk with me in the bar MacMahon.
+Son of the wild goose, Kevin Egan of Paris. My father's a bird, he
+lapped the sweet _lait chaud_ with pink young tongue, plump bunny's
+face. Lap, _lapin._ He hopes to win in the _gros lots_. About the nature
+of women he read in Michelet. But he must send me _La Vie de Jesus_ by
+M. Leo Taxil. Lent it to his friend.
+
+_--C'est tordant, vous savez. Moi, je suis socialiste. Je ne crois pas
+en l'existence de Dieu. Faut pas le dire a mon p-re._
+
+_--Il croit?_
+
+_--Mon pere, oui._
+
+_Schluss_. He laps.
+
+My Latin quarter hat. God, we simply must dress the character. I want
+puce gloves. You were a student, weren't you? Of what in the other
+devil's name? Paysayenn. P. C. N., you know: _physiques, chimiques et
+naturelles_. Aha. Eating your groatsworth of _mou en civet_, fleshpots
+of Egypt, elbowed by belching cabmen. Just say in the most natural
+tone: when I was in Paris; _boul' Mich'_, I used to. Yes, used to
+carry punched tickets to prove an alibi if they arrested you for murder
+somewhere. Justice. On the night of the seventeenth of February 1904 the
+prisoner was seen by two witnesses. Other fellow did it: other me.
+Hat, tie, overcoat, nose. _Lui, c'est moi_. You seem to have enjoyed
+yourself.
+
+Proudly walking. Whom were you trying to walk like? Forget: a
+dispossessed. With mother's money order, eight shillings, the banging
+door of the post office slammed in your face by the usher. Hunger
+toothache. _Encore deux minutes_. Look clock. Must get. _Ferme_. Hired
+dog! Shoot him to bloody bits with a bang shotgun, bits man spattered
+walls all brass buttons. Bits all khrrrrklak in place clack back. Not
+hurt? O, that's all right. Shake hands. See what I meant, see? O, that's
+all right. Shake a shake. O, that's all only all right.
+
+You were going to do wonders, what? Missionary to Europe after fiery
+Columbanus. Fiacre and Scotus on their creepystools in heaven spilt from
+their pintpots, loudlatinlaughing: _Euge! Euge_! Pretending to speak
+broken English as you dragged your valise, porter threepence, across
+the slimy pier at Newhaven. _Comment?_ Rich booty you brought back; _Le
+Tutu_, five tattered numbers of _Pantalon Blanc et Culotte Rouge_; a
+blue French telegram, curiosity to show:
+
+--Mother dying come home father.
+
+The aunt thinks you killed your mother. That's why she won't.
+
+ _Then here's a health to Mulligan's aunt
+ And I'll tell you the reason why.
+ She always kept things decent in
+ The Hannigan famileye._
+
+
+His feet marched in sudden proud rhythm over the sand furrows, along by
+the boulders of the south wall. He stared at them proudly, piled stone
+mammoth skulls. Gold light on sea, on sand, on boulders. The sun is
+there, the slender trees, the lemon houses.
+
+Paris rawly waking, crude sunlight on her lemon streets. Moist pith of
+farls of bread, the froggreen wormwood, her matin incense, court
+the air. Belluomo rises from the bed of his wife's lover's wife, the
+kerchiefed housewife is astir, a saucer of acetic acid in her hand. In
+Rodot's Yvonne and Madeleine newmake their tumbled beauties, shattering
+with gold teeth _chaussons_ of pastry, their mouths yellowed with the
+_pus_ of _flan breton_. Faces of Paris men go by, their wellpleased
+pleasers, curled conquistadores.
+
+Noon slumbers. Kevin Egan rolls gunpowder cigarettes through fingers
+smeared with printer's ink, sipping his green fairy as Patrice his
+white. About us gobblers fork spiced beans down their gullets. _Un demi
+setier!_ A jet of coffee steam from the burnished caldron. She serves me
+at his beck. _Il est irlandais. Hollandais? Non fromage. Deux irlandais,
+nous, Irlande, vous savez ah, oui!_ She thought you wanted a cheese
+_hollandais_. Your postprandial, do you know that word? Postprandial.
+There was a fellow I knew once in Barcelona, queer fellow, used to call
+it his postprandial. Well: _slainte_! Around the slabbed tables the
+tangle of wined breaths and grumbling gorges. His breath hangs over our
+saucestained plates, the green fairy's fang thrusting between his lips.
+Of Ireland, the Dalcassians, of hopes, conspiracies, of Arthur Griffith
+now, A E, pimander, good shepherd of men. To yoke me as his yokefellow,
+our crimes our common cause. You're your father's son. I know the voice.
+His fustian shirt, sanguineflowered, trembles its Spanish tassels at
+his secrets. M. Drumont, famous journalist, Drumont, know what he called
+queen Victoria? Old hag with the yellow teeth. _Vieille ogresse_
+with the _dents jaunes_. Maud Gonne, beautiful woman, _La Patrie_, M.
+Millevoye, Felix Faure, know how he died? Licentious men. The froeken,
+_bonne a tout faire_, who rubs male nakedness in the bath at Upsala.
+_Moi faire_, she said, _Tous les messieurs_. Not this _Monsieur_, I
+said. Most licentious custom. Bath a most private thing. I wouldn't let
+my brother, not even my own brother, most lascivious thing. Green eyes,
+I see you. Fang, I feel. Lascivious people.
+
+The blue fuse burns deadly between hands and burns clear. Loose
+tobaccoshreds catch fire: a flame and acrid smoke light our corner. Raw
+facebones under his peep of day boy's hat. How the head centre got away,
+authentic version. Got up as a young bride, man, veil, orangeblossoms,
+drove out the road to Malahide. Did, faith. Of lost leaders, the
+betrayed, wild escapes. Disguises, clutched at, gone, not here.
+
+Spurned lover. I was a strapping young gossoon at that time, I tell you.
+I'll show you my likeness one day. I was, faith. Lover, for her love he
+prowled with colonel Richard Burke, tanist of his sept, under the walls
+of Clerkenwell and, crouching, saw a flame of vengeance hurl them upward
+in the fog. Shattered glass and toppling masonry. In gay Paree he hides,
+Egan of Paris, unsought by any save by me. Making his day's stations,
+the dingy printingcase, his three taverns, the Montmartre lair he sleeps
+short night in, rue de la Goutte-d'Or, damascened with flyblown faces of
+the gone. Loveless, landless, wifeless. She is quite nicey comfy
+without her outcast man, madame in rue Git-le-Coeur, canary and two
+buck lodgers. Peachy cheeks, a zebra skirt, frisky as a young thing's.
+Spurned and undespairing. Tell Pat you saw me, won't you? I wanted to
+get poor Pat a job one time. _Mon fils_, soldier of France. I taught him
+to sing _The boys of Kilkenny are stout roaring blades_. Know that old
+lay? I taught Patrice that. Old Kilkenny: saint Canice, Strongbow's
+castle on the Nore. Goes like this. O, O. He takes me, Napper Tandy, by
+the hand.
+
+ _O, O THE BOYS OF
+ KILKENNY..._
+
+
+Weak wasting hand on mine. They have forgotten Kevin Egan, not he them.
+Remembering thee, O Sion.
+
+He had come nearer the edge of the sea and wet sand slapped his boots.
+The new air greeted him, harping in wild nerves, wind of wild air of
+seeds of brightness. Here, I am not walking out to the Kish lightship,
+am I? He stood suddenly, his feet beginning to sink slowly in the
+quaking soil. Turn back.
+
+Turning, he scanned the shore south, his feet sinking again slowly
+in new sockets. The cold domed room of the tower waits. Through the
+barbacans the shafts of light are moving ever, slowly ever as my
+feet are sinking, creeping duskward over the dial floor. Blue dusk,
+nightfall, deep blue night. In the darkness of the dome they wait,
+their pushedback chairs, my obelisk valise, around a board of abandoned
+platters. Who to clear it? He has the key. I will not sleep there when
+this night comes. A shut door of a silent tower, entombing their--blind
+bodies, the panthersahib and his pointer. Call: no answer. He lifted his
+feet up from the suck and turned back by the mole of boulders. Take
+all, keep all. My soul walks with me, form of forms. So in the moon's
+midwatches I pace the path above the rocks, in sable silvered, hearing
+Elsinore's tempting flood.
+
+The flood is following me. I can watch it flow past from here. Get back
+then by the Poolbeg road to the strand there. He climbed over the sedge
+and eely oarweeds and sat on a stool of rock, resting his ashplant in a
+grike.
+
+A bloated carcass of a dog lay lolled on bladderwrack. Before him the
+gunwale of a boat, sunk in sand. _Un coche ensablé_ Louis Veuillot
+called Gautier's prose. These heavy sands are language tide and wind
+have silted here. And these, the stoneheaps of dead builders, a warren
+of weasel rats. Hide gold there. Try it. You have some. Sands and
+stones. Heavy of the past. Sir Lout's toys. Mind you don't get one
+bang on the ear. I'm the bloody well gigant rolls all them bloody well
+boulders, bones for my steppingstones. Feefawfum. I zmellz de bloodz odz
+an Iridzman.
+
+A point, live dog, grew into sight running across the sweep of sand.
+Lord, is he going to attack me? Respect his liberty. You will not
+be master of others or their slave. I have my stick. Sit tight. From
+farther away, walking shoreward across from the crested tide, figures,
+two. The two maries. They have tucked it safe mong the bulrushes.
+Peekaboo. I see you. No, the dog. He is running back to them. Who?
+
+Galleys of the Lochlanns ran here to beach, in quest of prey, their
+bloodbeaked prows riding low on a molten pewter surf. Dane vikings,
+torcs of tomahawks aglitter on their breasts when Malachi wore the
+collar of gold. A school of turlehide whales stranded in hot noon,
+spouting, hobbling in the shallows. Then from the starving cagework city
+a horde of jerkined dwarfs, my people, with flayers' knives, running,
+scaling, hacking in green blubbery whalemeat. Famine, plague and
+slaughters. Their blood is in me, their lusts my waves. I moved among
+them on the frozen Liffey, that I, a changeling, among the spluttering
+resin fires. I spoke to no-one: none to me.
+
+The dog's bark ran towards him, stopped, ran back. Dog of my enemy. I
+just simply stood pale, silent, bayed about. _Terribilia meditans_. A
+primrose doublet, fortune's knave, smiled on my fear. For that are you
+pining, the bark of their applause? Pretenders: live their lives. The
+Bruce's brother, Thomas Fitzgerald, silken knight, Perkin Warbeck,
+York's false scion, in breeches of silk of whiterose ivory, wonder of
+a day, and Lambert Simnel, with a tail of nans and sutlers, a scullion
+crowned. All kings' sons. Paradise of pretenders then and now. He saved
+men from drowning and you shake at a cur's yelping. But the courtiers
+who mocked Guido in Or san Michele were in their own house. House of...
+We don't want any of your medieval abstrusiosities. Would you do what he
+did? A boat would be near, a lifebuoy. _Natürlich_, put there for you.
+Would you or would you not? The man that was drowned nine days ago off
+Maiden's rock. They are waiting for him now. The truth, spit it out. I
+would want to. I would try. I am not a strong swimmer. Water cold soft.
+When I put my face into it in the basin at Clongowes. Can't see! Who's
+behind me? Out quickly, quickly! Do you see the tide flowing quickly in
+on all sides, sheeting the lows of sand quickly, shellcocoacoloured? If
+I had land under my feet. I want his life still to be his, mine to be
+mine. A drowning man. His human eyes scream to me out of horror of his
+death. I... With him together down... I could not save her. Waters:
+bitter death: lost.
+
+A woman and a man. I see her skirties. Pinned up, I bet.
+
+Their dog ambled about a bank of dwindling sand, trotting, sniffing on
+all sides. Looking for something lost in a past life. Suddenly he made
+off like a bounding hare, ears flung back, chasing the shadow of a
+lowskimming gull. The man's shrieked whistle struck his limp ears. He
+turned, bounded back, came nearer, trotted on twinkling shanks. On a
+field tenney a buck, trippant, proper, unattired. At the lacefringe of
+the tide he halted with stiff forehoofs, seawardpointed ears. His
+snout lifted barked at the wavenoise, herds of seamorse. They serpented
+towards his feet, curling, unfurling many crests, every ninth, breaking,
+plashing, from far, from farther out, waves and waves.
+
+Cocklepickers. They waded a little way in the water and, stooping,
+soused their bags and, lifting them again, waded out. The dog yelped
+running to them, reared up and pawed them, dropping on all fours, again
+reared up at them with mute bearish fawning. Unheeded he kept by them as
+they came towards the drier sand, a rag of wolf's tongue redpanting from
+his jaws. His speckled body ambled ahead of them and then loped off at a
+calf's gallop. The carcass lay on his path. He stopped, sniffed, stalked
+round it, brother, nosing closer, went round it, sniffling rapidly like
+a dog all over the dead dog's bedraggled fell. Dogskull, dogsniff, eyes
+on the ground, moves to one great goal. Ah, poor dogsbody! Here lies
+poor dogsbody's body.
+
+--Tatters! Out of that, you mongrel!
+
+The cry brought him skulking back to his master and a blunt bootless
+kick sent him unscathed across a spit of sand, crouched in flight. He
+slunk back in a curve. Doesn't see me. Along by the edge of the mole he
+lolloped, dawdled, smelt a rock and from under a cocked hindleg pissed
+against it. He trotted forward and, lifting again his hindleg, pissed
+quick short at an unsmelt rock. The simple pleasures of the poor. His
+hindpaws then scattered the sand: then his forepaws dabbled and delved.
+Something he buried there, his grandmother. He rooted in the sand,
+dabbling, delving and stopped to listen to the air, scraped up the sand
+again with a fury of his claws, soon ceasing, a pard, a panther, got in
+spousebreach, vulturing the dead.
+
+After he woke me last night same dream or was it? Wait. Open hallway.
+Street of harlots. Remember. Haroun al Raschid. I am almosting it. That
+man led me, spoke. I was not afraid. The melon he had he held against my
+face. Smiled: creamfruit smell. That was the rule, said. In. Come. Red
+carpet spread. You will see who.
+
+Shouldering their bags they trudged, the red Egyptians. His blued feet
+out of turnedup trousers slapped the clammy sand, a dull brick muffler
+strangling his unshaven neck. With woman steps she followed: the
+ruffian and his strolling mort. Spoils slung at her back. Loose sand and
+shellgrit crusted her bare feet. About her windraw face hair trailed.
+Behind her lord, his helpmate, bing awast to Romeville. When night hides
+her body's flaws calling under her brown shawl from an archway
+where dogs have mired. Her fancyman is treating two Royal Dublins in
+O'Loughlin's of Blackpitts. Buss her, wap in rogues' rum lingo, for, O,
+my dimber wapping dell! A shefiend's whiteness under her rancid rags.
+Fumbally's lane that night: the tanyard smells.
+
+ _White thy fambles, red thy gan
+ And thy quarrons dainty is.
+ Couch a hogshead with me then.
+ In the darkmans clip and kiss._
+
+
+Morose delectation Aquinas tunbelly calls this, _frate porcospino_.
+Unfallen Adam rode and not rutted. Call away let him: _thy quarrons
+dainty is_. Language no whit worse than his. Monkwords, marybeads jabber
+on their girdles: roguewords, tough nuggets patter in their pockets.
+
+Passing now.
+
+A side eye at my Hamlet hat. If I were suddenly naked here as I sit? I
+am not. Across the sands of all the world, followed by the sun's flaming
+sword, to the west, trekking to evening lands. She trudges, schlepps,
+trains, drags, trascines her load. A tide westering, moondrawn, in
+her wake. Tides, myriadislanded, within her, blood not mine, _oinopa
+ponton_, a winedark sea. Behold the handmaid of the moon. In sleep
+the wet sign calls her hour, bids her rise. Bridebed, childbed, bed of
+death, ghostcandled. _Omnis caro ad te veniet_. He comes, pale vampire,
+through storm his eyes, his bat sails bloodying the sea, mouth to her
+mouth's kiss.
+
+Here. Put a pin in that chap, will you? My tablets. Mouth to her kiss.
+
+No. Must be two of em. Glue em well. Mouth to her mouth's kiss.
+
+His lips lipped and mouthed fleshless lips of air: mouth to her moomb.
+Oomb, allwombing tomb. His mouth moulded issuing breath, unspeeched:
+ooeeehah: roar of cataractic planets, globed, blazing, roaring
+wayawayawayawayaway. Paper. The banknotes, blast them. Old Deasy's
+letter. Here. Thanking you for the hospitality tear the blank end off.
+Turning his back to the sun he bent over far to a table of rock and
+scribbled words. That's twice I forgot to take slips from the library
+counter.
+
+His shadow lay over the rocks as he bent, ending. Why not endless till
+the farthest star? Darkly they are there behind this light, darkness
+shining in the brightness, delta of Cassiopeia, worlds. Me sits there
+with his augur's rod of ash, in borrowed sandals, by day beside a livid
+sea, unbeheld, in violet night walking beneath a reign of uncouth stars.
+I throw this ended shadow from me, manshape ineluctable, call it back.
+Endless, would it be mine, form of my form? Who watches me here? Who
+ever anywhere will read these written words? Signs on a white field.
+Somewhere to someone in your flutiest voice. The good bishop of Cloyne
+took the veil of the temple out of his shovel hat: veil of space with
+coloured emblems hatched on its field. Hold hard. Coloured on a flat:
+yes, that's right. Flat I see, then think distance, near, far, flat
+I see, east, back. Ah, see now! Falls back suddenly, frozen in
+stereoscope. Click does the trick. You find my words dark. Darkness is
+in our souls do you not think? Flutier. Our souls, shamewounded by our
+sins, cling to us yet more, a woman to her lover clinging, the more the
+more.
+
+She trusts me, her hand gentle, the longlashed eyes. Now where the blue
+hell am I bringing her beyond the veil? Into the ineluctable modality of
+the ineluctable visuality. She, she, she. What she? The virgin at Hodges
+Figgis' window on Monday looking in for one of the alphabet books you
+were going to write. Keen glance you gave her. Wrist through the
+braided jesse of her sunshade. She lives in Leeson park with a grief
+and kickshaws, a lady of letters. Talk that to someone else, Stevie: a
+pickmeup. Bet she wears those curse of God stays suspenders and
+yellow stockings, darned with lumpy wool. Talk about apple dumplings,
+_piuttosto_. Where are your wits?
+
+Touch me. Soft eyes. Soft soft soft hand. I am lonely here. O, touch me
+soon, now. What is that word known to all men? I am quiet here alone.
+Sad too. Touch, touch me.
+
+He lay back at full stretch over the sharp rocks, cramming the scribbled
+note and pencil into a pock his hat. His hat down on his eyes. That is
+Kevin Egan's movement I made, nodding for his nap, sabbath sleep. _Et
+vidit Deus. Et erant valde bona_. Alo! _Bonjour_. Welcome as the flowers
+in May. Under its leaf he watched through peacocktwittering lashes the
+southing sun. I am caught in this burning scene. Pan's hour, the faunal
+noon. Among gumheavy serpentplants, milkoozing fruits, where on the
+tawny waters leaves lie wide. Pain is far.
+
+ _And no more turn aside and brood._
+
+His gaze brooded on his broadtoed boots, a buck's castoffs,
+_nebeneinander_. He counted the creases of rucked leather wherein
+another's foot had nested warm. The foot that beat the ground in
+tripudium, foot I dislove. But you were delighted when Esther Osvalt's
+shoe went on you: girl I knew in Paris. _Tiens, quel petit pied!_
+Staunch friend, a brother soul: Wilde's love that dare not speak its
+name. His arm: Cranly's arm. He now will leave me. And the blame? As I
+am. As I am. All or not at all.
+
+In long lassoes from the Cock lake the water flowed full, covering
+greengoldenly lagoons of sand, rising, flowing. My ashplant will float
+away. I shall wait. No, they will pass on, passing, chafing against the
+low rocks, swirling, passing. Better get this job over quick. Listen: a
+fourworded wavespeech: seesoo, hrss, rsseeiss, ooos. Vehement breath of
+waters amid seasnakes, rearing horses, rocks. In cups of rocks it slops:
+flop, slop, slap: bounded in barrels. And, spent, its speech ceases. It
+flows purling, widely flowing, floating foampool, flower unfurling.
+
+Under the upswelling tide he saw the writhing weeds lift languidly and
+sway reluctant arms, hising up their petticoats, in whispering water
+swaying and upturning coy silver fronds. Day by day: night by night:
+lifted, flooded and let fall. Lord, they are weary; and, whispered to,
+they sigh. Saint Ambrose heard it, sigh of leaves and waves, waiting,
+awaiting the fullness of their times, _diebus ac noctibus iniurias
+patiens ingemiscit_. To no end gathered; vainly then released,
+forthflowing, wending back: loom of the moon. Weary too in sight of
+lovers, lascivious men, a naked woman shining in her courts, she draws a
+toil of waters.
+
+Five fathoms out there. Full fathom five thy father lies. At one, he
+said. Found drowned. High water at Dublin bar. Driving before it a loose
+drift of rubble, fanshoals of fishes, silly shells. A corpse rising
+saltwhite from the undertow, bobbing a pace a pace a porpoise landward.
+There he is. Hook it quick. Pull. Sunk though he be beneath the watery
+floor. We have him. Easy now.
+
+Bag of corpsegas sopping in foul brine. A quiver of minnows, fat of a
+spongy titbit, flash through the slits of his buttoned trouserfly.
+God becomes man becomes fish becomes barnacle goose becomes featherbed
+mountain. Dead breaths I living breathe, tread dead dust, devour a
+urinous offal from all dead. Hauled stark over the gunwale he breathes
+upward the stench of his green grave, his leprous nosehole snoring to
+the sun.
+
+A seachange this, brown eyes saltblue. Seadeath, mildest of all deaths
+known to man. Old Father Ocean. _Prix de paris_: beware of imitations.
+Just you give it a fair trial. We enjoyed ourselves immensely.
+
+Come. I thirst. Clouding over. No black clouds anywhere, are there?
+Thunderstorm. Allbright he falls, proud lightning of the intellect,
+_Lucifer, dico, qui nescit occasum_. No. My cockle hat and staff and
+hismy sandal shoon. Where? To evening lands. Evening will find itself.
+
+He took the hilt of his ashplant, lunging with it softly, dallying
+still. Yes, evening will find itself in me, without me. All days make
+their end. By the way next when is it Tuesday will be the longest
+day. Of all the glad new year, mother, the rum tum tiddledy tum. Lawn
+Tennyson, gentleman poet. _Già _. For the old hag with the yellow teeth.
+And Monsieur Drumont, gentleman journalist. _Già _. My teeth are very
+bad. Why, I wonder. Feel. That one is going too. Shells. Ought I go to a
+dentist, I wonder, with that money? That one. This. Toothless Kinch, the
+superman. Why is that, I wonder, or does it mean something perhaps?
+
+My handkerchief. He threw it. I remember. Did I not take it up?
+
+His hand groped vainly in his pockets. No, I didn't. Better buy one.
+
+He laid the dry snot picked from his nostril on a ledge of rock,
+carefully. For the rest let look who will.
+
+Behind. Perhaps there is someone.
+
+He turned his face over a shoulder, rere regardant. Moving through the
+air high spars of a threemaster, her sails brailed up on the crosstrees,
+homing, upstream, silently moving, a silent ship. +
+
+
+
+
+-- II --
+
+Mr Leopold Bloom ate with relish the inner organs of beasts and fowls.
+He liked thick giblet soup, nutty gizzards, a stuffed roast heart,
+liverslices fried with crustcrumbs, fried hencods' roes. Most of all
+he liked grilled mutton kidneys which gave to his palate a fine tang of
+faintly scented urine.
+
+Kidneys were in his mind as he moved about the kitchen softly, righting
+her breakfast things on the humpy tray. Gelid light and air were in the
+kitchen but out of doors gentle summer morning everywhere. Made him feel
+a bit peckish.
+
+The coals were reddening.
+
+Another slice of bread and butter: three, four: right. She didn't like
+her plate full. Right. He turned from the tray, lifted the kettle off
+the hob and set it sideways on the fire. It sat there, dull and squat,
+its spout stuck out. Cup of tea soon. Good. Mouth dry. The cat walked
+stiffly round a leg of the table with tail on high.
+
+--Mkgnao!
+
+--O, there you are, Mr Bloom said, turning from the fire.
+
+The cat mewed in answer and stalked again stiffly round a leg of the
+table, mewing. Just how she stalks over my writingtable. Prr. Scratch my
+head. Prr.
+
+Mr Bloom watched curiously, kindly the lithe black form. Clean to see:
+the gloss of her sleek hide, the white button under the butt of her
+tail, the green flashing eyes. He bent down to her, his hands on his
+knees.
+
+--Milk for the pussens, he said.
+
+--Mrkgnao! the cat cried.
+
+They call them stupid. They understand what we say better than we
+understand them. She understands all she wants to. Vindictive too.
+Cruel. Her nature. Curious mice never squeal. Seem to like it. Wonder
+what I look like to her. Height of a tower? No, she can jump me.
+
+--Afraid of the chickens she is, he said mockingly. Afraid of the
+chookchooks. I never saw such a stupid pussens as the pussens.
+
+Cruel. Her nature. Curious mice never squeal. Seem to like it.
+
+--Mrkrgnao! the cat said loudly.
+
+She blinked up out of her avid shameclosing eyes, mewing plaintively
+and long, showing him her milkwhite teeth. He watched the dark eyeslits
+narrowing with greed till her eyes were green stones. Then he went to
+the dresser, took the jug Hanlon's milkman had just filled for him,
+poured warmbubbled milk on a saucer and set it slowly on the floor.
+
+--Gurrhr! she cried, running to lap.
+
+He watched the bristles shining wirily in the weak light as she tipped
+three times and licked lightly. Wonder is it true if you clip them they
+can't mouse after. Why? They shine in the dark, perhaps, the tips. Or
+kind of feelers in the dark, perhaps.
+
+He listened to her licking lap. Ham and eggs, no. No good eggs with this
+drouth. Want pure fresh water. Thursday: not a good day either for a
+mutton kidney at Buckley's. Fried with butter, a shake of pepper. Better
+a pork kidney at Dlugacz's. While the kettle is boiling. She lapped
+slower, then licking the saucer clean. Why are their tongues so rough?
+To lap better, all porous holes. Nothing she can eat? He glanced round
+him. No.
+
+On quietly creaky boots he went up the staircase to the hall, paused by
+the bedroom door. She might like something tasty. Thin bread and butter
+she likes in the morning. Still perhaps: once in a way.
+
+He said softly in the bare hall:
+
+--I'm going round the corner. Be back in a minute.
+
+And when he had heard his voice say it he added:
+
+--You don't want anything for breakfast?
+
+A sleepy soft grunt answered:
+
+--Mn.
+
+No. She didn't want anything. He heard then a warm heavy sigh, softer,
+as she turned over and the loose brass quoits of the bedstead jingled.
+Must get those settled really. Pity. All the way from Gibraltar.
+Forgotten any little Spanish she knew. Wonder what her father gave for
+it. Old style. Ah yes! of course. Bought it at the governor's auction.
+Got a short knock. Hard as nails at a bargain, old Tweedy. Yes, sir. At
+Plevna that was. I rose from the ranks, sir, and I'm proud of it.
+Still he had brains enough to make that corner in stamps. Now that was
+farseeing.
+
+His hand took his hat from the peg over his initialled heavy overcoat
+and his lost property office secondhand waterproof. Stamps: stickyback
+pictures. Daresay lots of officers are in the swim too. Course they do.
+The sweated legend in the crown of his hat told him mutely: Plasto's
+high grade ha. He peeped quickly inside the leather headband. White slip
+of paper. Quite safe.
+
+On the doorstep he felt in his hip pocket for the latchkey. Not there.
+In the trousers I left off. Must get it. Potato I have. Creaky wardrobe.
+No use disturbing her. She turned over sleepily that time. He pulled
+the halldoor to after him very quietly, more, till the footleaf dropped
+gently over the threshold, a limp lid. Looked shut. All right till I
+come back anyhow.
+
+He crossed to the bright side, avoiding the loose cellarflap of number
+seventyfive. The sun was nearing the steeple of George's church. Be a
+warm day I fancy. Specially in these black clothes feel it more. Black
+conducts, reflects, (refracts is it?), the heat. But I couldn't go in
+that light suit. Make a picnic of it. His eyelids sank quietly often as
+he walked in happy warmth. Boland's breadvan delivering with trays our
+daily but she prefers yesterday's loaves turnovers crisp crowns hot.
+Makes you feel young. Somewhere in the east: early morning: set off at
+dawn. Travel round in front of the sun, steal a day's march on him. Keep
+it up for ever never grow a day older technically. Walk along a strand,
+strange land, come to a city gate, sentry there, old ranker too, old
+Tweedy's big moustaches, leaning on a long kind of a spear. Wander
+through awned streets. Turbaned faces going by. Dark caves of carpet
+shops, big man, Turko the terrible, seated crosslegged, smoking a coiled
+pipe. Cries of sellers in the streets. Drink water scented with fennel,
+sherbet. Dander along all day. Might meet a robber or two. Well,
+meet him. Getting on to sundown. The shadows of the mosques among the
+pillars: priest with a scroll rolled up. A shiver of the trees, signal,
+the evening wind. I pass on. Fading gold sky. A mother watches me from
+her doorway. She calls her children home in their dark language. High
+wall: beyond strings twanged. Night sky, moon, violet, colour of Molly's
+new garters. Strings. Listen. A girl playing one of those instruments
+what do you call them: dulcimers. I pass.
+
+Probably not a bit like it really. Kind of stuff you read: in the track
+of the sun. Sunburst on the titlepage. He smiled, pleasing himself. What
+Arthur Griffith said about the headpiece over the _Freeman_ leader: a
+homerule sun rising up in the northwest from the laneway behind the bank
+of Ireland. He prolonged his pleased smile. Ikey touch that: homerule
+sun rising up in the north-west.
+
+He approached Larry O'Rourke's. From the cellar grating floated up the
+flabby gush of porter. Through the open doorway the bar squirted out
+whiffs of ginger, teadust, biscuitmush. Good house, however: just the
+end of the city traffic. For instance M'Auley's down there: n. g. as
+position. Of course if they ran a tramline along the North Circular from
+the cattlemarket to the quays value would go up like a shot.
+
+Baldhead over the blind. Cute old codger. No use canvassing him for an
+ad. Still he knows his own business best. There he is, sure enough, my
+bold Larry, leaning against the sugarbin in his shirtsleeves watching
+the aproned curate swab up with mop and bucket. Simon Dedalus takes him
+off to a tee with his eyes screwed up. Do you know what I'm going to
+tell you? What's that, Mr O'Rourke? Do you know what? The Russians,
+they'd only be an eight o'clock breakfast for the Japanese.
+
+Stop and say a word: about the funeral perhaps. Sad thing about poor
+Dignam, Mr O'Rourke.
+
+Turning into Dorset street he said freshly in greeting through the
+doorway:
+
+--Good day, Mr O'Rourke.
+
+--Good day to you.
+
+--Lovely weather, sir.
+
+--'Tis all that.
+
+Where do they get the money? Coming up redheaded curates from the county
+Leitrim, rinsing empties and old man in the cellar. Then, lo and behold,
+they blossom out as Adam Findlaters or Dan Tallons. Then thin of the
+competition. General thirst. Good puzzle would be cross Dublin without
+passing a pub. Save it they can't. Off the drunks perhaps. Put down
+three and carry five. What is that, a bob here and there, dribs and
+drabs. On the wholesale orders perhaps. Doing a double shuffle with the
+town travellers. Square it you with the boss and we'll split the job,
+see?
+
+How much would that tot to off the porter in the month? Say ten barrels
+of stuff. Say he got ten per cent off. O more. Fifteen. He passed Saint
+Joseph's National school. Brats' clamour. Windows open. Fresh air
+helps memory. Or a lilt. Ahbeesee defeegee kelomen opeecue rustyouvee
+doubleyou. Boys are they? Yes. Inishturk. Inishark. Inishboffin. At
+their joggerfry. Mine. Slieve Bloom.
+
+He halted before Dlugacz's window, staring at the hanks of sausages,
+polonies, black and white. Fifteen multiplied by. The figures whitened
+in his mind, unsolved: displeased, he let them fade. The shiny links,
+packed with forcemeat, fed his gaze and he breathed in tranquilly the
+lukewarm breath of cooked spicy pigs' blood.
+
+A kidney oozed bloodgouts on the willowpatterned dish: the last. He
+stood by the nextdoor girl at the counter. Would she buy it too, calling
+the items from a slip in her hand? Chapped: washingsoda. And a pound and
+a half of Denny's sausages. His eyes rested on her vigorous hips.
+Woods his name is. Wonder what he does. Wife is oldish. New blood.
+No followers allowed. Strong pair of arms. Whacking a carpet on the
+clothesline. She does whack it, by George. The way her crooked skirt
+swings at each whack.
+
+The ferreteyed porkbutcher folded the sausages he had snipped off with
+blotchy fingers, sausagepink. Sound meat there: like a stallfed heifer.
+
+He took a page up from the pile of cut sheets: the model farm at
+Kinnereth on the lakeshore of Tiberias. Can become ideal winter
+sanatorium. Moses Montefiore. I thought he was. Farmhouse, wall round
+it, blurred cattle cropping. He held the page from him: interesting:
+read it nearer, the title, the blurred cropping cattle, the page
+rustling. A young white heifer. Those mornings in the cattlemarket, the
+beasts lowing in their pens, branded sheep, flop and fall of dung, the
+breeders in hobnailed boots trudging through the litter, slapping a palm
+on a ripemeated hindquarter, there's a prime one, unpeeled switches in
+their hands. He held the page aslant patiently, bending his senses and
+his will, his soft subject gaze at rest. The crooked skirt swinging,
+whack by whack by whack.
+
+The porkbutcher snapped two sheets from the pile, wrapped up her prime
+sausages and made a red grimace.
+
+--Now, my miss, he said.
+
+She tendered a coin, smiling boldly, holding her thick wrist out.
+
+--Thank you, my miss. And one shilling threepence change. For you,
+please?
+
+Mr Bloom pointed quickly. To catch up and walk behind her if she went
+slowly, behind her moving hams. Pleasant to see first thing in the
+morning. Hurry up, damn it. Make hay while the sun shines. She stood
+outside the shop in sunlight and sauntered lazily to the right. He
+sighed down his nose: they never understand. Sodachapped hands. Crusted
+toenails too. Brown scapulars in tatters, defending her both ways.
+The sting of disregard glowed to weak pleasure within his breast. For
+another: a constable off duty cuddling her in Eccles lane. They like
+them sizeable. Prime sausage. O please, Mr Policeman, I'm lost in the
+wood.
+
+--Threepence, please.
+
+His hand accepted the moist tender gland and slid it into a sidepocket.
+Then it fetched up three coins from his trousers' pocket and laid them
+on the rubber prickles. They lay, were read quickly and quickly slid,
+disc by disc, into the till.
+
+--Thank you, sir. Another time.
+
+A speck of eager fire from foxeyes thanked him. He withdrew his gaze
+after an instant. No: better not: another time.
+
+--Good morning, he said, moving away.
+
+--Good morning, sir.
+
+No sign. Gone. What matter?
+
+He walked back along Dorset street, reading gravely. Agendath Netaim:
+planters' company. To purchase waste sandy tracts from Turkish
+government and plant with eucalyptus trees. Excellent for shade, fuel
+and construction. Orangegroves and immense melonfields north of Jaffa.
+You pay eighty marks and they plant a dunam of land for you with olives,
+oranges, almonds or citrons. Olives cheaper: oranges need artificial
+irrigation. Every year you get a sending of the crop. Your name entered
+for life as owner in the book of the union. Can pay ten down and the
+balance in yearly instalments. Bleibtreustrasse 34, Berlin, W. 15.
+
+Nothing doing. Still an idea behind it.
+
+He looked at the cattle, blurred in silver heat. Silverpowdered
+olivetrees. Quiet long days: pruning, ripening. Olives are packed in
+jars, eh? I have a few left from Andrews. Molly spitting them out. Knows
+the taste of them now. Oranges in tissue paper packed in crates. Citrons
+too. Wonder is poor Citron still in Saint Kevin's parade. And Mastiansky
+with the old cither. Pleasant evenings we had then. Molly in Citron's
+basketchair. Nice to hold, cool waxen fruit, hold in the hand, lift it
+to the nostrils and smell the perfume. Like that, heavy, sweet, wild
+perfume. Always the same, year after year. They fetched high prices too,
+Moisel told me. Arbutus place: Pleasants street: pleasant old times.
+Must be without a flaw, he said. Coming all that way: Spain, Gibraltar,
+Mediterranean, the Levant. Crates lined up on the quayside at Jaffa,
+chap ticking them off in a book, navvies handling them barefoot in
+soiled dungarees. There's whatdoyoucallhim out of. How do you? Doesn't
+see. Chap you know just to salute bit of a bore. His back is like that
+Norwegian captain's. Wonder if I'll meet him today. Watering cart. To
+provoke the rain. On earth as it is in heaven.
+
+A cloud began to cover the sun slowly, wholly. Grey. Far.
+
+No, not like that. A barren land, bare waste. Vulcanic lake, the dead
+sea: no fish, weedless, sunk deep in the earth. No wind could lift those
+waves, grey metal, poisonous foggy waters. Brimstone they called it
+raining down: the cities of the plain: Sodom, Gomorrah, Edom. All dead
+names. A dead sea in a dead land, grey and old. Old now. It bore the
+oldest, the first race. A bent hag crossed from Cassidy's, clutching a
+naggin bottle by the neck. The oldest people. Wandered far away over
+all the earth, captivity to captivity, multiplying, dying, being born
+everywhere. It lay there now. Now it could bear no more. Dead: an old
+woman's: the grey sunken cunt of the world.
+
+Desolation.
+
+Grey horror seared his flesh. Folding the page into his pocket he turned
+into Eccles street, hurrying homeward. Cold oils slid along his veins,
+chilling his blood: age crusting him with a salt cloak. Well, I am here
+now. Yes, I am here now. Morning mouth bad images. Got up wrong side of
+the bed. Must begin again those Sandow's exercises. On the hands down.
+Blotchy brown brick houses. Number eighty still unlet. Why is that?
+Valuation is only twenty-eight. Towers, Battersby, North, MacArthur:
+parlour windows plastered with bills. Plasters on a sore eye. To smell
+the gentle smoke of tea, fume of the pan, sizzling butter. Be near her
+ample bedwarmed flesh. Yes, yes.
+
+Quick warm sunlight came running from Berkeley road, swiftly, in slim
+sandals, along the brightening footpath. Runs, she runs to meet me, a
+girl with gold hair on the wind.
+
+Two letters and a card lay on the hallfloor. He stooped and gathered
+them. Mrs Marion Bloom. His quickened heart slowed at once. Bold hand.
+Mrs Marion.
+
+--Poldy!
+
+Entering the bedroom he halfclosed his eyes and walked through warm
+yellow twilight towards her tousled head.
+
+--Who are the letters for?
+
+He looked at them. Mullingar. Milly.
+
+--A letter for me from Milly, he said carefully, and a card to you. And
+a letter for you.
+
+He laid her card and letter on the twill bedspread near the curve of her
+knees.
+
+--Do you want the blind up?
+
+Letting the blind up by gentle tugs halfway his backward eye saw her
+glance at the letter and tuck it under her pillow.
+
+--That do? he asked, turning.
+
+She was reading the card, propped on her elbow.
+
+--She got the things, she said.
+
+He waited till she had laid the card aside and curled herself back
+slowly with a snug sigh.
+
+--Hurry up with that tea, she said. I'm parched.
+
+--The kettle is boiling, he said.
+
+But he delayed to clear the chair: her striped petticoat, tossed soiled
+linen: and lifted all in an armful on to the foot of the bed.
+
+As he went down the kitchen stairs she called:
+
+--Poldy!
+
+--What?
+
+--Scald the teapot.
+
+On the boil sure enough: a plume of steam from the spout. He scalded and
+rinsed out the teapot and put in four full spoons of tea, tilting the
+kettle then to let the water flow in. Having set it to draw he took off
+the kettle, crushed the pan flat on the live coals and watched the lump
+of butter slide and melt. While he unwrapped the kidney the cat mewed
+hungrily against him. Give her too much meat she won't mouse. Say they
+won't eat pork. Kosher. Here. He let the bloodsmeared paper fall to
+her and dropped the kidney amid the sizzling butter sauce. Pepper. He
+sprinkled it through his fingers ringwise from the chipped eggcup.
+
+Then he slit open his letter, glancing down the page and over. Thanks:
+new tam: Mr Coghlan: lough Owel picnic: young student: Blazes Boylan's
+seaside girls.
+
+The tea was drawn. He filled his own moustachecup, sham crown
+
+Derby, smiling. Silly Milly's birthday gift. Only five she was then. No,
+wait: four. I gave her the amberoid necklace she broke. Putting pieces
+of folded brown paper in the letterbox for her. He smiled, pouring.
+
+ _O, Milly Bloom, you are my darling.
+ You are my lookingglass from night to morning.
+ I'd rather have you without a farthing
+ Than Katey Keogh with her ass and garden._
+
+
+Poor old professor Goodwin. Dreadful old case. Still he was a courteous
+old chap. Oldfashioned way he used to bow Molly off the platform. And
+the little mirror in his silk hat. The night Milly brought it into
+the parlour. O, look what I found in professor Goodwin's hat! All we
+laughed. Sex breaking out even then. Pert little piece she was.
+
+He prodded a fork into the kidney and slapped it over: then fitted the
+teapot on the tray. Its hump bumped as he took it up. Everything on
+it? Bread and butter, four, sugar, spoon, her cream. Yes. He carried it
+upstairs, his thumb hooked in the teapot handle.
+
+Nudging the door open with his knee he carried the tray in and set it on
+the chair by the bedhead.
+
+--What a time you were! she said.
+
+She set the brasses jingling as she raised herself briskly, an elbow on
+the pillow. He looked calmly down on her bulk and between her large soft
+bubs, sloping within her nightdress like a shegoat's udder. The warmth
+of her couched body rose on the air, mingling with the fragrance of the
+tea she poured.
+
+A strip of torn envelope peeped from under the dimpled pillow. In the
+act of going he stayed to straighten the bedspread.
+
+--Who was the letter from? he asked.
+
+Bold hand. Marion.
+
+--O, Boylan, she said. He's bringing the programme.
+
+--What are you singing?
+
+--_La ci darem_ with J. C. Doyle, she said, and _Love's Old Sweet Song_.
+
+Her full lips, drinking, smiled. Rather stale smell that incense leaves
+next day. Like foul flowerwater.
+
+--Would you like the window open a little?
+
+She doubled a slice of bread into her mouth, asking:
+
+--What time is the funeral?
+
+--Eleven, I think, he answered. I didn't see the paper.
+
+Following the pointing of her finger he took up a leg of her soiled
+drawers from the bed. No? Then, a twisted grey garter looped round a
+stocking: rumpled, shiny sole.
+
+--No: that book.
+
+Other stocking. Her petticoat.
+
+--It must have fell down, she said.
+
+He felt here and there. _Voglio e non vorrei_. Wonder if she pronounces
+that right: _voglio_. Not in the bed. Must have slid down. He stooped
+and lifted the valance. The book, fallen, sprawled against the bulge of
+the orangekeyed chamberpot.
+
+--Show here, she said. I put a mark in it. There's a word I wanted to
+ask you.
+
+She swallowed a draught of tea from her cup held by nothandle and,
+having wiped her fingertips smartly on the blanket, began to search the
+text with the hairpin till she reached the word.
+
+--Met him what? he asked.
+
+--Here, she said. What does that mean?
+
+He leaned downward and read near her polished thumbnail.
+
+--Metempsychosis?
+
+--Yes. Who's he when he's at home?
+
+--Metempsychosis, he said, frowning. It's Greek: from the Greek. That
+means the transmigration of souls.
+
+--O, rocks! she said. Tell us in plain words.
+
+He smiled, glancing askance at her mocking eyes. The same young eyes.
+The first night after the charades. Dolphin's Barn. He turned over
+the smudged pages. _Ruby: the Pride of the Ring_. Hello. Illustration.
+Fierce Italian with carriagewhip. Must be Ruby pride of the on the floor
+naked. Sheet kindly lent. _The monster Maffei desisted and flung his
+victim from him with an oath_. Cruelty behind it all. Doped animals.
+Trapeze at Hengler's. Had to look the other way. Mob gaping. Break your
+neck and we'll break our sides. Families of them. Bone them young so
+they metamspychosis. That we live after death. Our souls. That a man's
+soul after he dies. Dignam's soul...
+
+--Did you finish it? he asked.
+
+--Yes, she said. There's nothing smutty in it. Is she in love with the
+first fellow all the time?
+
+--Never read it. Do you want another?
+
+--Yes. Get another of Paul de Kock's. Nice name he has.
+
+She poured more tea into her cup, watching it flow sideways.
+
+Must get that Capel street library book renewed or they'll write to
+Kearney, my guarantor. Reincarnation: that's the word.
+
+--Some people believe, he said, that we go on living in another body
+after death, that we lived before. They call it reincarnation. That
+we all lived before on the earth thousands of years ago or some other
+planet. They say we have forgotten it. Some say they remember their past
+lives.
+
+The sluggish cream wound curdling spirals through her tea. Better remind
+her of the word: metempsychosis. An example would be better. An example?
+
+The _Bath of the Nymph_ over the bed. Given away with the Easter number
+of _Photo Bits_: Splendid masterpiece in art colours. Tea before you
+put milk in. Not unlike her with her hair down: slimmer. Three and six
+I gave for the frame. She said it would look nice over the bed. Naked
+nymphs: Greece: and for instance all the people that lived then.
+
+He turned the pages back.
+
+--Metempsychosis, he said, is what the ancient Greeks called it. They
+used to believe you could be changed into an animal or a tree, for
+instance. What they called nymphs, for example.
+
+Her spoon ceased to stir up the sugar. She gazed straight before her,
+inhaling through her arched nostrils.
+
+--There's a smell of burn, she said. Did you leave anything on the fire?
+
+--The kidney! he cried suddenly.
+
+He fitted the book roughly into his inner pocket and, stubbing his toes
+against the broken commode, hurried out towards the smell, stepping
+hastily down the stairs with a flurried stork's legs. Pungent smoke shot
+up in an angry jet from a side of the pan. By prodding a prong of the
+fork under the kidney he detached it and turned it turtle on its back.
+Only a little burnt. He tossed it off the pan on to a plate and let the
+scanty brown gravy trickle over it.
+
+Cup of tea now. He sat down, cut and buttered a slice of the loaf.
+He shore away the burnt flesh and flung it to the cat. Then he put a
+forkful into his mouth, chewing with discernment the toothsome pliant
+meat. Done to a turn. A mouthful of tea. Then he cut away dies of bread,
+sopped one in the gravy and put it in his mouth. What was that about
+some young student and a picnic? He creased out the letter at his side,
+reading it slowly as he chewed, sopping another die of bread in the
+gravy and raising it to his mouth.
+
+Dearest Papli
+
+Thanks ever so much for the lovely birthday present. It suits me
+splendid. Everyone says I am quite the belle in my new tam. I got
+mummy's Iovely box of creams and am writing. They are lovely. I am
+getting on swimming in the photo business now. Mr Coghlan took one of me
+and Mrs. Will send when developed. We did great biz yesterday. Fair day
+and all the beef to the heels were in. We are going to lough Owel on
+Monday with a few friends to make a scrap picnic. Give my love to
+mummy and to yourself a big kiss and thanks. I hear them at the piano
+downstairs. There is to be a concert in the Greville Arms on Saturday.
+There is a young student comes here some evenings named Bannon his
+cousins or something are big swells and he sings Boylan's (I was on the
+pop of writing Blazes Boylan's) song about those seaside girls. Tell him
+silly Milly sends my best respects. I must now close with fondest love
+
+Your fond daughter, MILLY.
+
+P. S. Excuse bad writing am in hurry. Byby. M.
+
+Fifteen yesterday. Curious, fifteenth of the month too. Her first
+birthday away from home. Separation. Remember the summer morning she
+was born, running to knock up Mrs Thornton in Denzille street. Jolly old
+woman. Lot of babies she must have helped into the world. She knew from
+the first poor little Rudy wouldn't live. Well, God is good, sir. She
+knew at once. He would be eleven now if he had lived.
+
+His vacant face stared pityingly at the postscript. Excuse bad writing.
+Hurry. Piano downstairs. Coming out of her shell. Row with her in the
+XL Cafe about the bracelet. Wouldn't eat her cakes or speak or look.
+Saucebox. He sopped other dies of bread in the gravy and ate piece after
+piece of kidney. Twelve and six a week. Not much. Still, she might do
+worse. Music hall stage. Young student. He drank a draught of cooler tea
+to wash down his meal. Then he read the letter again: twice.
+
+O, well: she knows how to mind herself. But if not? No, nothing has
+happened. Of course it might. Wait in any case till it does. A wild
+piece of goods. Her slim legs running up the staircase. Destiny.
+Ripening now.
+
+Vain: very.
+
+He smiled with troubled affection at the kitchen window. Day I caught
+her in the street pinching her cheeks to make them red. Anemic a little.
+Was given milk too long. On the ERIN'S KING that day round the Kish.
+Damned old tub pitching about. Not a bit funky. Her pale blue scarf
+loose in the wind with her hair. _All dimpled cheeks and curls, Your
+head it simply swirls._
+
+
+Seaside girls. Torn envelope. Hands stuck in his trousers' pockets,
+jarvey off for the day, singing. Friend of the family. Swurls, he says.
+Pier with lamps, summer evening, band,
+
+ _Those girls, those girls,
+ Those lovely seaside girls._
+
+
+Milly too. Young kisses: the first. Far away now past. Mrs Marion.
+Reading, lying back now, counting the strands of her hair, smiling,
+braiding.
+
+A soft qualm, regret, flowed down his backbone, increasing. Will happen,
+yes. Prevent. Useless: can't move. Girl's sweet light lips. Will happen
+too. He felt the flowing qualm spread over him. Useless to move now.
+Lips kissed, kissing, kissed. Full gluey woman's lips.
+
+Better where she is down there: away. Occupy her. Wanted a dog to pass
+the time. Might take a trip down there. August bank holiday, only two
+and six return. Six weeks off, however. Might work a press pass. Or
+through M'Coy.
+
+The cat, having cleaned all her fur, returned to the meatstained paper,
+nosed at it and stalked to the door. She looked back at him, mewing.
+Wants to go out. Wait before a door sometime it will open. Let her wait.
+Has the fidgets. Electric. Thunder in the air. Was washing at her ear
+with her back to the fire too.
+
+He felt heavy, full: then a gentle loosening of his bowels. He stood up,
+undoing the waistband of his trousers. The cat mewed to him.
+
+--Miaow! he said in answer. Wait till I'm ready.
+
+Heaviness: hot day coming. Too much trouble to fag up the stairs to the
+landing.
+
+A paper. He liked to read at stool. Hope no ape comes knocking just as
+I'm.
+
+In the tabledrawer he found an old number of _Titbits_. He folded it
+under his armpit, went to the door and opened it. The cat went up in
+soft bounds. Ah, wanted to go upstairs, curl up in a ball on the bed.
+
+Listening, he heard her voice:
+
+--Come, come, pussy. Come.
+
+He went out through the backdoor into the garden: stood to listen
+towards the next garden. No sound. Perhaps hanging clothes out to dry.
+The maid was in the garden. Fine morning.
+
+He bent down to regard a lean file of spearmint growing by the wall.
+Make a summerhouse here. Scarlet runners. Virginia creepers. Want to
+manure the whole place over, scabby soil. A coat of liver of sulphur.
+All soil like that without dung. Household slops. Loam, what is this
+that is? The hens in the next garden: their droppings are very good top
+dressing. Best of all though are the cattle, especially when they are
+fed on those oilcakes. Mulch of dung. Best thing to clean ladies' kid
+gloves. Dirty cleans. Ashes too. Reclaim the whole place. Grow peas in
+that corner there. Lettuce. Always have fresh greens then. Still gardens
+have their drawbacks. That bee or bluebottle here Whitmonday.
+
+He walked on. Where is my hat, by the way? Must have put it back on the
+peg. Or hanging up on the floor. Funny I don't remember that. Hallstand
+too full. Four umbrellas, her raincloak. Picking up the letters.
+Drago's shopbell ringing. Queer I was just thinking that moment. Brown
+brillantined hair over his collar. Just had a wash and brushup. Wonder
+have I time for a bath this morning. Tara street. Chap in the paybox
+there got away James Stephens, they say. O'Brien.
+
+Deep voice that fellow Dlugacz has. Agendath what is it? Now, my miss.
+Enthusiast.
+
+He kicked open the crazy door of the jakes. Better be careful not to get
+these trousers dirty for the funeral. He went in, bowing his head
+under the low lintel. Leaving the door ajar, amid the stench of mouldy
+limewash and stale cobwebs he undid his braces. Before sitting down he
+peered through a chink up at the nextdoor windows. The king was in his
+countinghouse. Nobody.
+
+Asquat on the cuckstool he folded out his paper, turning its pages over
+on his bared knees. Something new and easy. No great hurry. Keep it a
+bit. Our prize titbit: _Matcham's Masterstroke_. Written by Mr Philip
+Beaufoy, Playgoers' Club, London. Payment at the rate of one guinea
+a column has been made to the writer. Three and a half. Three pounds
+three. Three pounds, thirteen and six.
+
+Quietly he read, restraining himself, the first column and, yielding but
+resisting, began the second. Midway, his last resistance yielding, he
+allowed his bowels to ease themselves quietly as he read, reading still
+patiently that slight constipation of yesterday quite gone. Hope it's
+not too big bring on piles again. No, just right. So. Ah! Costive. One
+tabloid of cascara sagrada. Life might be so. It did not move or touch
+him but it was something quick and neat. Print anything now. Silly
+season. He read on, seated calm above his own rising smell. Neat
+certainly. _Matcham often thinks of the masterstroke by which he won the
+laughing witch who now_. Begins and ends morally. _Hand in hand_. Smart.
+He glanced back through what he had read and, while feeling his water
+flow quietly, he envied kindly Mr Beaufoy who had written it and
+received payment of three pounds, thirteen and six.
+
+Might manage a sketch. By Mr and Mrs L. M. Bloom. Invent a story for
+some proverb. Which? Time I used to try jotting down on my cuff what she
+said dressing. Dislike dressing together. Nicked myself shaving. Biting
+her nether lip, hooking the placket of her skirt. Timing her. 9.l5.
+Did Roberts pay you yet? 9.20. What had Gretta Conroy on? 9.23. What
+possessed me to buy this comb? 9.24. I'm swelled after that cabbage. A
+speck of dust on the patent leather of her boot.
+
+Rubbing smartly in turn each welt against her stockinged calf. Morning
+after the bazaar dance when May's band played Ponchielli's dance of the
+hours. Explain that: morning hours, noon, then evening coming on, then
+night hours. Washing her teeth. That was the first night. Her head
+dancing. Her fansticks clicking. Is that Boylan well off? He has money.
+Why? I noticed he had a good rich smell off his breath dancing. No use
+humming then. Allude to it. Strange kind of music that last night. The
+mirror was in shadow. She rubbed her handglass briskly on her woollen
+vest against her full wagging bub. Peering into it. Lines in her eyes.
+It wouldn't pan out somehow.
+
+Evening hours, girls in grey gauze. Night hours then: black with daggers
+and eyemasks. Poetical idea: pink, then golden, then grey, then black.
+Still, true to life also. Day: then the night.
+
+He tore away half the prize story sharply and wiped himself with it.
+Then he girded up his trousers, braced and buttoned himself. He pulled
+back the jerky shaky door of the jakes and came forth from the gloom
+into the air.
+
+In the bright light, lightened and cooled in limb, he eyed carefully his
+black trousers: the ends, the knees, the houghs of the knees. What time
+is the funeral? Better find out in the paper.
+
+A creak and a dark whirr in the air high up. The bells of George's
+church. They tolled the hour: loud dark iron.
+
+ _Heigho! Heigho!
+ Heigho! Heigho!
+ Heigho! Heigho!_
+
+
+Quarter to. There again: the overtone following through the air, third.
+
+Poor Dignam!
+
+
+By lorries along sir John Rogerson's quay Mr Bloom walked soberly, past
+Windmill lane, Leask's the linseed crusher, the postal telegraph office.
+Could have given that address too. And past the sailors' home. He turned
+from the morning noises of the quayside and walked through Lime street.
+By Brady's cottages a boy for the skins lolled, his bucket of offal
+linked, smoking a chewed fagbutt. A smaller girl with scars of eczema
+on her forehead eyed him, listlessly holding her battered caskhoop. Tell
+him if he smokes he won't grow. O let him! His life isn't such a bed of
+roses. Waiting outside pubs to bring da home. Come home to ma, da.
+Slack hour: won't be many there. He crossed Townsend street, passed
+the frowning face of Bethel. El, yes: house of: Aleph, Beth. And past
+Nichols' the undertaker. At eleven it is. Time enough. Daresay Corny
+Kelleher bagged the job for O'Neill's. Singing with his eyes shut.
+Corny. Met her once in the park. In the dark. What a lark. Police tout.
+Her name and address she then told with my tooraloom tooraloom tay.
+O, surely he bagged it. Bury him cheap in a whatyoumaycall. With my
+tooraloom, tooraloom, tooraloom, tooraloom.
+
+
+In Westland row he halted before the window of the Belfast and Oriental
+Tea Company and read the legends of leadpapered packets: choice blend,
+finest quality, family tea. Rather warm. Tea. Must get some from Tom
+Kernan. Couldn't ask him at a funeral, though. While his eyes still read
+blandly he took off his hat quietly inhaling his hairoil and sent his
+right hand with slow grace over his brow and hair. Very warm morning.
+Under their dropped lids his eyes found the tiny bow of the leather
+headband inside his high grade ha. Just there. His right hand came down
+into the bowl of his hat. His fingers found quickly a card behind the
+headband and transferred it to his waistcoat pocket.
+
+So warm. His right hand once more more slowly went over his brow and
+hair. Then he put on his hat again, relieved: and read again: choice
+blend, made of the finest Ceylon brands. The far east. Lovely spot it
+must be: the garden of the world, big lazy leaves to float about on,
+cactuses, flowery meads, snaky lianas they call them. Wonder is it like
+that. Those Cinghalese lobbing about in the sun in _dolce far niente_,
+not doing a hand's turn all day. Sleep six months out of twelve. Too hot
+to quarrel. Influence of the climate. Lethargy. Flowers of idleness. The
+air feeds most. Azotes. Hothouse in Botanic gardens. Sensitive plants.
+Waterlilies. Petals too tired to. Sleeping sickness in the air. Walk on
+roseleaves. Imagine trying to eat tripe and cowheel. Where was the chap
+I saw in that picture somewhere? Ah yes, in the dead sea floating on his
+back, reading a book with a parasol open. Couldn't sink if you tried: so
+thick with salt. Because the weight of the water, no, the weight of
+the body in the water is equal to the weight of the what? Or is it the
+volume is equal to the weight? It's a law something like that. Vance in
+High school cracking his fingerjoints, teaching. The college curriculum.
+Cracking curriculum. What is weight really when you say the weight?
+Thirtytwo feet per second per second. Law of falling bodies: per second
+per second. They all fall to the ground. The earth. It's the force of
+gravity of the earth is the weight.
+
+He turned away and sauntered across the road. How did she walk with her
+sausages? Like that something. As he walked he took the folded _Freeman_
+from his sidepocket, unfolded it, rolled it lengthwise in a baton and
+tapped it at each sauntering step against his trouserleg. Careless air:
+just drop in to see. Per second per second. Per second for every second
+it means. From the curbstone he darted a keen glance through the door of
+the postoffice. Too late box. Post here. No-one. In.
+
+He handed the card through the brass grill.
+
+--Are there any letters for me? he asked.
+
+While the postmistress searched a pigeonhole he gazed at the recruiting
+poster with soldiers of all arms on parade: and held the tip of his
+baton against his nostrils, smelling freshprinted rag paper. No answer
+probably. Went too far last time.
+
+The postmistress handed him back through the grill his card with a
+letter. He thanked her and glanced rapidly at the typed envelope.
+
+Henry Flower Esq, c/o P. O. Westland Row, City.
+
+Answered anyhow. He slipped card and letter into his sidepocket,
+reviewing again the soldiers on parade. Where's old Tweedy's regiment?
+Castoff soldier. There: bearskin cap and hackle plume. No, he's a
+grenadier. Pointed cuffs. There he is: royal Dublin fusiliers. Redcoats.
+Too showy. That must be why the women go after them. Uniform. Easier to
+enlist and drill. Maud Gonne's letter about taking them off O'Connell
+street at night: disgrace to our Irish capital. Griffith's paper is on
+the same tack now: an army rotten with venereal disease: overseas or
+halfseasover empire. Half baked they look: hypnotised like. Eyes front.
+Mark time. Table: able. Bed: ed. The King's own. Never see him dressed
+up as a fireman or a bobby. A mason, yes.
+
+He strolled out of the postoffice and turned to the right. Talk: as if
+that would mend matters. His hand went into his pocket and a forefinger
+felt its way under the flap of the envelope, ripping it open in jerks.
+Women will pay a lot of heed, I don't think. His fingers drew forth the
+letter the letter and crumpled the envelope in his pocket. Something
+pinned on: photo perhaps. Hair? No.
+
+M'Coy. Get rid of him quickly. Take me out of my way. Hate company when
+you.
+
+--Hello, Bloom. Where are you off to?
+
+--Hello, M'Coy. Nowhere in particular.
+
+--How's the body?
+
+--Fine. How are you?
+
+--Just keeping alive, M'Coy said.
+
+His eyes on the black tie and clothes he asked with low respect:
+
+--Is there any... no trouble I hope? I see you're...
+
+--O, no, Mr Bloom said. Poor Dignam, you know. The funeral is today.
+
+--To be sure, poor fellow. So it is. What time?
+
+A photo it isn't. A badge maybe.
+
+--E... eleven, Mr Bloom answered.
+
+--I must try to get out there, M'Coy said. Eleven, is it? I only heard
+it last night. Who was telling me? Holohan. You know Hoppy?
+
+--I know.
+
+Mr Bloom gazed across the road at the outsider drawn up before the door
+of the Grosvenor. The porter hoisted the valise up on the well. She
+stood still, waiting, while the man, husband, brother, like her,
+searched his pockets for change. Stylish kind of coat with that roll
+collar, warm for a day like this, looks like blanketcloth. Careless
+stand of her with her hands in those patch pockets. Like that haughty
+creature at the polo match. Women all for caste till you touch the spot.
+Handsome is and handsome does. Reserved about to yield. The honourable
+Mrs and Brutus is an honourable man. Possess her once take the starch
+out of her.
+
+--I was with Bob Doran, he's on one of his periodical bends, and what do
+you call him Bantam Lyons. Just down there in Conway's we were.
+
+Doran Lyons in Conway's. She raised a gloved hand to her hair. In came
+Hoppy. Having a wet. Drawing back his head and gazing far from beneath
+his vailed eyelids he saw the bright fawn skin shine in the glare, the
+braided drums. Clearly I can see today. Moisture about gives long sight
+perhaps. Talking of one thing or another. Lady's hand. Which side will
+she get up?
+
+--And he said: _Sad thing about our poor friend Paddy! What Paddy?_ I
+said. _Poor little Paddy Dignam_, he said.
+
+Off to the country: Broadstone probably. High brown boots with laces
+dangling. Wellturned foot. What is he foostering over that change for?
+Sees me looking. Eye out for other fellow always. Good fallback. Two
+strings to her bow.
+
+--_Why?_ I said. _What's wrong with him?_ I said.
+
+Proud: rich: silk stockings.
+
+--Yes, Mr Bloom said.
+
+He moved a little to the side of M'Coy's talking head. Getting up in a
+minute.
+
+--_What's wrong with him_? He said. _He's dead_, he said. And, faith,
+he filled up. _Is it Paddy Dignam_? I said. I couldn't believe it when I
+heard it. I was with him no later than Friday last or Thursday was it in
+the Arch. _Yes,_ he said. _He's gone. He died on Monday, poor fellow_.
+Watch! Watch! Silk flash rich stockings white. Watch!
+
+A heavy tramcar honking its gong slewed between.
+
+Lost it. Curse your noisy pugnose. Feels locked out of it. Paradise and
+the peri. Always happening like that. The very moment. Girl in Eustace
+street hallway Monday was it settling her garter. Her friend covering
+the display of _esprit de corps_. Well, what are you gaping at?
+
+--Yes, yes, Mr Bloom said after a dull sigh. Another gone.
+
+--One of the best, M'Coy said.
+
+The tram passed. They drove off towards the Loop Line bridge, her rich
+gloved hand on the steel grip. Flicker, flicker: the laceflare of her
+hat in the sun: flicker, flick.
+
+--Wife well, I suppose? M'Coy's changed voice said.
+
+--O, yes, Mr Bloom said. Tiptop, thanks.
+
+He unrolled the newspaper baton idly and read idly:
+
+_What is home without Plumtree's Potted Meat? Incomplete With it an
+abode of bliss._
+
+--My missus has just got an engagement. At least it's not settled yet.
+
+Valise tack again. By the way no harm. I'm off that, thanks.
+
+Mr Bloom turned his largelidded eyes with unhasty friendliness.
+
+--My wife too, he said. She's going to sing at a swagger affair in the
+Ulster Hall, Belfast, on the twenty-fifth.
+
+--That so? M'Coy said. Glad to hear that, old man. Who's getting it up?
+
+Mrs Marion Bloom. Not up yet. Queen was in her bedroom eating bread and.
+No book. Blackened court cards laid along her thigh by sevens. Dark lady
+and fair man. Letter. Cat furry black ball. Torn strip of envelope.
+
+ _Love's
+ Old
+ Sweet
+ Song
+ Comes lo-ove's old..._
+
+--It's a kind of a tour, don't you see, Mr Bloom said thoughtfully.
+_Sweeeet song_. There's a committee formed. Part shares and part
+profits.
+
+M'Coy nodded, picking at his moustache stubble.
+
+--O, well, he said. That's good news.
+
+He moved to go.
+
+--Well, glad to see you looking fit, he said. Meet you knocking around.
+
+--Yes, Mr Bloom said.
+
+--Tell you what, M'Coy said. You might put down my name at the funeral,
+will you? I'd like to go but I mightn't be able, you see. There's a
+drowning case at Sandycove may turn up and then the coroner and myself
+would have to go down if the body is found. You just shove in my name if
+I'm not there, will you?
+
+--I'll do that, Mr Bloom said, moving to get off. That'll be all right.
+
+--Right, M'Coy said brightly. Thanks, old man. I'd go if I possibly
+could. Well, tolloll. Just C. P. M'Coy will do.
+
+--That will be done, Mr Bloom answered firmly.
+
+Didn't catch me napping that wheeze. The quick touch. Soft mark. I'd
+like my job. Valise I have a particular fancy for. Leather. Capped
+corners, rivetted edges, double action lever lock. Bob Cowley lent him
+his for the Wicklow regatta concert last year and never heard tidings of
+it from that good day to this.
+
+Mr Bloom, strolling towards Brunswick street, smiled. My missus has just
+got an. Reedy freckled soprano. Cheeseparing nose. Nice enough in its
+way: for a little ballad. No guts in it. You and me, don't you know:
+in the same boat. Softsoaping. Give you the needle that would. Can't
+he hear the difference? Think he's that way inclined a bit. Against
+my grain somehow. Thought that Belfast would fetch him. I hope that
+smallpox up there doesn't get worse. Suppose she wouldn't let herself be
+vaccinated again. Your wife and my wife.
+
+Wonder is he pimping after me?
+
+Mr Bloom stood at the corner, his eyes wandering over the multicoloured
+hoardings. Cantrell and Cochrane's Ginger Ale (Aromatic). Clery's Summer
+Sale. No, he's going on straight. Hello. _Leah_ tonight. Mrs Bandmann
+Palmer. Like to see her again in that. _Hamlet_ she played last night.
+Male impersonator. Perhaps he was a woman. Why Ophelia committed
+suicide. Poor papa! How he used to talk of Kate Bateman in that. Outside
+the Adelphi in London waited all the afternoon to get in. Year before
+I was born that was: sixtyfive. And Ristori in Vienna. What is this the
+right name is? By Mosenthal it is. Rachel, is it? No. The scene he was
+always talking about where the old blind Abraham recognises the voice
+and puts his fingers on his face.
+
+Nathan's voice! His son's voice! I hear the voice of Nathan who left his
+father to die of grief and misery in my arms, who left the house of his
+father and left the God of his father.
+
+Every word is so deep, Leopold.
+
+Poor papa! Poor man! I'm glad I didn't go into the room to look at his
+face. That day! O, dear! O, dear! Ffoo! Well, perhaps it was best for
+him.
+
+Mr Bloom went round the corner and passed the drooping nags of the
+hazard. No use thinking of it any more. Nosebag time. Wish I hadn't met
+that M'Coy fellow.
+
+He came nearer and heard a crunching of gilded oats, the gently champing
+teeth. Their full buck eyes regarded him as he went by, amid the sweet
+oaten reek of horsepiss. Their Eldorado. Poor jugginses! Damn all they
+know or care about anything with their long noses stuck in nosebags.
+Too full for words. Still they get their feed all right and their doss.
+Gelded too: a stump of black guttapercha wagging limp between their
+haunches. Might be happy all the same that way. Good poor brutes they
+look. Still their neigh can be very irritating.
+
+He drew the letter from his pocket and folded it into the newspaper he
+carried. Might just walk into her here. The lane is safer.
+
+He passed the cabman's shelter. Curious the life of drifting cabbies.
+All weathers, all places, time or setdown, no will of their own. _Voglio
+e non_. Like to give them an odd cigarette. Sociable. Shout a few flying
+syllables as they pass. He hummed:
+
+ _La ci darem la mano
+ La la lala la la._
+
+He turned into Cumberland street and, going on some paces, halted in the
+lee of the station wall. No-one. Meade's timberyard. Piled balks. Ruins
+and tenements. With careful tread he passed over a hopscotch court with
+its forgotten pickeystone. Not a sinner. Near the timberyard a squatted
+child at marbles, alone, shooting the taw with a cunnythumb. A wise
+tabby, a blinking sphinx, watched from her warm sill. Pity to disturb
+them. Mohammed cut a piece out of his mantle not to wake her. Open it.
+And once I played marbles when I went to that old dame's school. She
+liked mignonette. Mrs Ellis's. And Mr? He opened the letter within the
+newspaper.
+
+A flower. I think it's a. A yellow flower with flattened petals. Not
+annoyed then? What does she say?
+
+Dear Henry
+
+I got your last letter to me and thank you very much for it. I am sorry
+you did not like my last letter. Why did you enclose the stamps? I am
+awfully angry with you. I do wish I could punish you for that. I called
+you naughty boy because I do not like that other world. Please tell me
+what is the real meaning of that word? Are you not happy in your home
+you poor little naughty boy? I do wish I could do something for you.
+Please tell me what you think of poor me. I often think of the beautiful
+name you have. Dear Henry, when will we meet? I think of you so often
+you have no idea. I have never felt myself so much drawn to a man as
+you. I feel so bad about. Please write me a long letter and tell me
+more. Remember if you do not I will punish you. So now you know what I
+will do to you, you naughty boy, if you do not wrote. O how I long to
+meet you. Henry dear, do not deny my request before my patience are
+exhausted. Then I will tell you all. Goodbye now, naughty darling, I
+have such a bad headache. today. and write _by return_ to your longing
+
+Martha
+
+P. S. Do tell me what kind of perfume does your wife use. I want to
+know.
+
+He tore the flower gravely from its pinhold smelt its almost no smell
+and placed it in his heart pocket. Language of flowers. They like it
+because no-one can hear. Or a poison bouquet to strike him down. Then
+walking slowly forward he read the letter again, murmuring here and
+there a word. Angry tulips with you darling manflower punish your cactus
+if you don't please poor forgetmenot how I long violets to dear roses
+when we soon anemone meet all naughty nightstalk wife Martha's perfume.
+Having read it all he took it from the newspaper and put it back in his
+sidepocket.
+
+Weak joy opened his lips. Changed since the first letter. Wonder did she
+wrote it herself. Doing the indignant: a girl of good family like me,
+respectable character. Could meet one Sunday after the rosary. Thank
+you: not having any. Usual love scrimmage. Then running round corners.
+Bad as a row with Molly. Cigar has a cooling effect. Narcotic. Go
+further next time. Naughty boy: punish: afraid of words, of course.
+Brutal, why not? Try it anyhow. A bit at a time.
+
+Fingering still the letter in his pocket he drew the pin out of it.
+Common pin, eh? He threw it on the road. Out of her clothes somewhere:
+pinned together. Queer the number of pins they always have. No roses
+without thorns.
+
+Flat Dublin voices bawled in his head. Those two sluts that night in the
+Coombe, linked together in the rain.
+
+ _O, Mary lost the pin of her drawers.
+ She didn't know what to do
+ To keep it up
+ To keep it up._
+
+It? Them. Such a bad headache. Has her roses probably. Or sitting all
+day typing. Eyefocus bad for stomach nerves. What perfume does your wife
+use. Now could you make out a thing like that?
+
+ _To keep it up._
+
+Martha, Mary. I saw that picture somewhere I forget now old master or
+faked for money. He is sitting in their house, talking. Mysterious. Also
+the two sluts in the Coombe would listen.
+
+ _To keep it up._
+
+Nice kind of evening feeling. No more wandering about. Just loll there:
+quiet dusk: let everything rip. Forget. Tell about places you have been,
+strange customs. The other one, jar on her head, was getting the supper:
+fruit, olives, lovely cool water out of a well, stonecold like the hole
+in the wall at Ashtown. Must carry a paper goblet next time I go to the
+trottingmatches. She listens with big dark soft eyes. Tell her: more and
+more: all. Then a sigh: silence. Long long long rest.
+
+Going under the railway arch he took out the envelope, tore it swiftly
+in shreds and scattered them towards the road. The shreds fluttered
+away, sank in the dank air: a white flutter, then all sank.
+
+Henry Flower. You could tear up a cheque for a hundred pounds in the
+same way. Simple bit of paper. Lord Iveagh once cashed a sevenfigure
+cheque for a million in the bank of Ireland. Shows you the money to be
+made out of porter. Still the other brother lord Ardilaun has to change
+his shirt four times a day, they say. Skin breeds lice or vermin. A
+million pounds, wait a moment. Twopence a pint, fourpence a quart,
+eightpence a gallon of porter, no, one and fourpence a gallon of porter.
+One and four into twenty: fifteen about. Yes, exactly. Fifteen millions
+of barrels of porter.
+
+What am I saying barrels? Gallons. About a million barrels all the same.
+
+An incoming train clanked heavily above his head, coach after coach.
+Barrels bumped in his head: dull porter slopped and churned inside.
+The bungholes sprang open and a huge dull flood leaked out, flowing
+together, winding through mudflats all over the level land, a lazy
+pooling swirl of liquor bearing along wideleaved flowers of its froth.
+
+He had reached the open backdoor of All Hallows. Stepping into the porch
+he doffed his hat, took the card from his pocket and tucked it again
+behind the leather headband. Damn it. I might have tried to work M'Coy
+for a pass to Mullingar.
+
+Same notice on the door. Sermon by the very reverend John Conmee S.J.
+on saint Peter Claver S.J. and the African Mission. Prayers for the
+conversion of Gladstone they had too when he was almost unconscious. The
+protestants are the same. Convert Dr William J. Walsh D.D. to the true
+religion. Save China's millions. Wonder how they explain it to the
+heathen Chinee. Prefer an ounce of opium. Celestials. Rank heresy for
+them. Buddha their god lying on his side in the museum. Taking it easy
+with hand under his cheek. Josssticks burning. Not like Ecce Homo. Crown
+of thorns and cross. Clever idea Saint Patrick the shamrock. Chopsticks?
+Conmee: Martin Cunningham knows him: distinguishedlooking. Sorry I
+didn't work him about getting Molly into the choir instead of that
+Father Farley who looked a fool but wasn't. They're taught that. He's
+not going out in bluey specs with the sweat rolling off him to baptise
+blacks, is he? The glasses would take their fancy, flashing. Like to see
+them sitting round in a ring with blub lips, entranced, listening. Still
+life. Lap it up like milk, I suppose.
+
+The cold smell of sacred stone called him. He trod the worn steps,
+pushed the swingdoor and entered softly by the rere.
+
+Something going on: some sodality. Pity so empty. Nice discreet place
+to be next some girl. Who is my neighbour? Jammed by the hour to slow
+music. That woman at midnight mass. Seventh heaven. Women knelt in the
+benches with crimson halters round their necks, heads bowed. A batch
+knelt at the altarrails. The priest went along by them, murmuring,
+holding the thing in his hands. He stopped at each, took out a
+communion, shook a drop or two (are they in water?) off it and put it
+neatly into her mouth. Her hat and head sank. Then the next one. Her hat
+sank at once. Then the next one: a small old woman. The priest bent down
+to put it into her mouth, murmuring all the time. Latin. The next one.
+Shut your eyes and open your mouth. What? _Corpus:_ body. Corpse. Good
+idea the Latin. Stupefies them first. Hospice for the dying. They
+don't seem to chew it: only swallow it down. Rum idea: eating bits of a
+corpse. Why the cannibals cotton to it.
+
+He stood aside watching their blind masks pass down the aisle, one by
+one, and seek their places. He approached a bench and seated himself in
+its corner, nursing his hat and newspaper. These pots we have to wear.
+We ought to have hats modelled on our heads. They were about him here
+and there, with heads still bowed in their crimson halters, waiting for
+it to melt in their stomachs. Something like those mazzoth: it's that
+sort of bread: unleavened shewbread. Look at them. Now I bet it makes
+them feel happy. Lollipop. It does. Yes, bread of angels it's called.
+There's a big idea behind it, kind of kingdom of God is within you feel.
+First communicants. Hokypoky penny a lump. Then feel all like one family
+party, same in the theatre, all in the same swim. They do. I'm sure of
+that. Not so lonely. In our confraternity. Then come out a bit spreeish.
+Let off steam. Thing is if you really believe in it. Lourdes cure,
+waters of oblivion, and the Knock apparition, statues bleeding. Old
+fellow asleep near that confessionbox. Hence those snores. Blind faith.
+Safe in the arms of kingdom come. Lulls all pain. Wake this time next
+year.
+
+He saw the priest stow the communion cup away, well in, and kneel an
+instant before it, showing a large grey bootsole from under the lace
+affair he had on. Suppose he lost the pin of his. He wouldn't know what
+to do to. Bald spot behind. Letters on his back: I.N.R.I? No: I.H.S.
+Molly told me one time I asked her. I have sinned: or no: I have
+suffered, it is. And the other one? Iron nails ran in.
+
+Meet one Sunday after the rosary. Do not deny my request. Turn up with
+a veil and black bag. Dusk and the light behind her. She might be here
+with a ribbon round her neck and do the other thing all the same on the
+sly. Their character. That fellow that turned queen's evidence on the
+invincibles he used to receive the, Carey was his name, the communion
+every morning. This very church. Peter Carey, yes. No, Peter Claver I am
+thinking of. Denis Carey. And just imagine that. Wife and six children
+at home. And plotting that murder all the time. Those crawthumpers,
+now that's a good name for them, there's always something shiftylooking
+about them. They're not straight men of business either. O, no, she's
+not here: the flower: no, no. By the way, did I tear up that envelope?
+Yes: under the bridge.
+
+The priest was rinsing out the chalice: then he tossed off the dregs
+smartly. Wine. Makes it more aristocratic than for example if he drank
+what they are used to Guinness's porter or some temperance beverage
+Wheatley's Dublin hop bitters or Cantrell and Cochrane's ginger ale
+(aromatic). Doesn't give them any of it: shew wine: only the other.
+Cold comfort. Pious fraud but quite right: otherwise they'd have one old
+booser worse than another coming along, cadging for a drink. Queer the
+whole atmosphere of the. Quite right. Perfectly right that is.
+
+Mr Bloom looked back towards the choir. Not going to be any music. Pity.
+Who has the organ here I wonder? Old Glynn he knew how to make that
+instrument talk, the _vibrato_: fifty pounds a year they say he had in
+Gardiner street. Molly was in fine voice that day, the _Stabat Mater_
+of Rossini. Father Bernard Vaughan's sermon first. Christ or Pilate?
+Christ, but don't keep us all night over it. Music they wanted.
+Footdrill stopped. Could hear a pin drop. I told her to pitch her voice
+against that corner. I could feel the thrill in the air, the full, the
+people looking up:
+
+_Quis est homo._
+
+Some of that old sacred music splendid. Mercadante: seven last words.
+Mozart's twelfth mass: _Gloria_ in that. Those old popes keen on music,
+on art and statues and pictures of all kinds. Palestrina for example
+too. They had a gay old time while it lasted. Healthy too, chanting,
+regular hours, then brew liqueurs. Benedictine. Green Chartreuse. Still,
+having eunuchs in their choir that was coming it a bit thick. What kind
+of voice is it? Must be curious to hear after their own strong basses.
+Connoisseurs. Suppose they wouldn't feel anything after. Kind of a
+placid. No worry. Fall into flesh, don't they? Gluttons, tall, long
+legs. Who knows? Eunuch. One way out of it.
+
+He saw the priest bend down and kiss the altar and then face about and
+bless all the people. All crossed themselves and stood up. Mr Bloom
+glanced about him and then stood up, looking over the risen hats. Stand
+up at the gospel of course. Then all settled down on their knees again
+and he sat back quietly in his bench. The priest came down from the
+altar, holding the thing out from him, and he and the massboy answered
+each other in Latin. Then the priest knelt down and began to read off a
+card:
+
+--O God, our refuge and our strength...
+
+Mr Bloom put his face forward to catch the words. English. Throw them
+the bone. I remember slightly. How long since your last mass? Glorious
+and immaculate virgin. Joseph, her spouse. Peter and Paul. More
+interesting if you understood what it was all about. Wonderful
+organisation certainly, goes like clockwork. Confession. Everyone wants
+to. Then I will tell you all. Penance. Punish me, please. Great weapon
+in their hands. More than doctor or solicitor. Woman dying to. And I
+schschschschschsch. And did you chachachachacha? And why did you? Look
+down at her ring to find an excuse. Whispering gallery walls have ears.
+Husband learn to his surprise. God's little joke. Then out she comes.
+Repentance skindeep. Lovely shame. Pray at an altar. Hail Mary and Holy
+Mary. Flowers, incense, candles melting. Hide her blushes. Salvation
+army blatant imitation. Reformed prostitute will address the meeting.
+How I found the Lord. Squareheaded chaps those must be in Rome: they
+work the whole show. And don't they rake in the money too? Bequests
+also: to the P.P. for the time being in his absolute discretion.
+Masses for the repose of my soul to be said publicly with open doors.
+Monasteries and convents. The priest in that Fermanagh will case in the
+witnessbox. No browbeating him. He had his answer pat for everything.
+Liberty and exaltation of our holy mother the church. The doctors of the
+church: they mapped out the whole theology of it.
+
+The priest prayed:
+
+--Blessed Michael, archangel, defend us in the hour of conflict. Be
+our safeguard against the wickedness and snares of the devil (may God
+restrain him, we humbly pray!): and do thou, O prince of the heavenly
+host, by the power of God thrust Satan down to hell and with him those
+other wicked spirits who wander through the world for the ruin of souls.
+
+The priest and the massboy stood up and walked off. All over. The women
+remained behind: thanksgiving.
+
+Better be shoving along. Brother Buzz. Come around with the plate
+perhaps. Pay your Easter duty.
+
+He stood up. Hello. Were those two buttons of my waistcoat open all the
+time? Women enjoy it. Never tell you. But we. Excuse, miss, there's a
+(whh!) just a (whh!) fluff. Or their skirt behind, placket unhooked.
+Glimpses of the moon. Annoyed if you don't. Why didn't you tell me
+before. Still like you better untidy. Good job it wasn't farther south.
+He passed, discreetly buttoning, down the aisle and out through the main
+door into the light. He stood a moment unseeing by the cold black marble
+bowl while before him and behind two worshippers dipped furtive hands in
+the low tide of holy water. Trams: a car of Prescott's dyeworks: a widow
+in her weeds. Notice because I'm in mourning myself. He covered himself.
+How goes the time? Quarter past. Time enough yet. Better get that lotion
+made up. Where is this? Ah yes, the last time. Sweny's in Lincoln place.
+Chemists rarely move. Their green and gold beaconjars too heavy to stir.
+Hamilton Long's, founded in the year of the flood. Huguenot churchyard
+near there. Visit some day.
+
+He walked southward along Westland row. But the recipe is in the other
+trousers. O, and I forgot that latchkey too. Bore this funeral affair.
+O well, poor fellow, it's not his fault. When was it I got it made up
+last? Wait. I changed a sovereign I remember. First of the month it must
+have been or the second. O, he can look it up in the prescriptions book.
+
+The chemist turned back page after page. Sandy shrivelled smell he seems
+to have. Shrunken skull. And old. Quest for the philosopher's stone. The
+alchemists. Drugs age you after mental excitement. Lethargy then. Why?
+Reaction. A lifetime in a night. Gradually changes your character.
+Living all the day among herbs, ointments, disinfectants. All his
+alabaster lilypots. Mortar and pestle. Aq. Dist. Fol. Laur. Te Virid.
+Smell almost cure you like the dentist's doorbell. Doctor Whack. He
+ought to physic himself a bit. Electuary or emulsion. The first fellow
+that picked an herb to cure himself had a bit of pluck. Simples. Want to
+be careful. Enough stuff here to chloroform you. Test: turns blue
+litmus paper red. Chloroform. Overdose of laudanum. Sleeping draughts.
+Lovephiltres. Paragoric poppysyrup bad for cough. Clogs the pores or the
+phlegm. Poisons the only cures. Remedy where you least expect it. Clever
+of nature.
+
+--About a fortnight ago, sir?
+
+--Yes, Mr Bloom said.
+
+He waited by the counter, inhaling slowly the keen reek of drugs, the
+dusty dry smell of sponges and loofahs. Lot of time taken up telling
+your aches and pains.
+
+--Sweet almond oil and tincture of benzoin, Mr Bloom said, and then
+orangeflower water...
+
+It certainly did make her skin so delicate white like wax.
+
+--And white wax also, he said.
+
+Brings out the darkness of her eyes. Looking at me, the sheet up to
+her eyes, Spanish, smelling herself, when I was fixing the links in my
+cuffs. Those homely recipes are often the best: strawberries for the
+teeth: nettles and rainwater: oatmeal they say steeped in buttermilk.
+Skinfood. One of the old queen's sons, duke of Albany was it? had only
+one skin. Leopold, yes. Three we have. Warts, bunions and pimples to
+make it worse. But you want a perfume too. What perfume does your? _Peau
+d'Espagne_. That orangeflower water is so fresh. Nice smell these soaps
+have. Pure curd soap. Time to get a bath round the corner. Hammam.
+Turkish. Massage. Dirt gets rolled up in your navel. Nicer if a nice
+girl did it. Also I think I. Yes I. Do it in the bath. Curious longing
+I. Water to water. Combine business with pleasure. Pity no time for
+massage. Feel fresh then all the day. Funeral be rather glum.
+
+--Yes, sir, the chemist said. That was two and nine. Have you brought a
+bottle?
+
+--No, Mr Bloom said. Make it up, please. I'll call later in the day and
+I'll take one of these soaps. How much are they?
+
+--Fourpence, sir.
+
+Mr Bloom raised a cake to his nostrils. Sweet lemony wax.
+
+--I'll take this one, he said. That makes three and a penny.
+
+--Yes, sir, the chemist said. You can pay all together, sir, when you
+come back.
+
+--Good, Mr Bloom said.
+
+He strolled out of the shop, the newspaper baton under his armpit, the
+coolwrappered soap in his left hand.
+
+At his armpit Bantam Lyons' voice and hand said:
+
+--Hello, Bloom. What's the best news? Is that today's? Show us a minute.
+
+Shaved off his moustache again, by Jove! Long cold upper lip. To look
+younger. He does look balmy. Younger than I am.
+
+Bantam Lyons's yellow blacknailed fingers unrolled the baton. Wants a
+wash too. Take off the rough dirt. Good morning, have you used Pears'
+soap? Dandruff on his shoulders. Scalp wants oiling.
+
+--I want to see about that French horse that's running today, Bantam
+Lyons said. Where the bugger is it?
+
+He rustled the pleated pages, jerking his chin on his high collar.
+Barber's itch. Tight collar he'll lose his hair. Better leave him the
+paper and get shut of him.
+
+--You can keep it, Mr Bloom said.
+
+--Ascot. Gold cup. Wait, Bantam Lyons muttered. Half a mo. Maximum the
+second.
+
+--I was just going to throw it away, Mr Bloom said.
+
+Bantam Lyons raised his eyes suddenly and leered weakly.
+
+--What's that? his sharp voice said.
+
+--I say you can keep it, Mr Bloom answered. I was going to throw it away
+that moment.
+
+Bantam Lyons doubted an instant, leering: then thrust the outspread
+sheets back on Mr Bloom's arms.
+
+--I'll risk it, he said. Here, thanks.
+
+He sped off towards Conway's corner. God speed scut.
+
+Mr Bloom folded the sheets again to a neat square and lodged the soap
+in it, smiling. Silly lips of that chap. Betting. Regular hotbed of it
+lately. Messenger boys stealing to put on sixpence. Raffle for large
+tender turkey. Your Christmas dinner for threepence. Jack Fleming
+embezzling to gamble then smuggled off to America. Keeps a hotel now.
+They never come back. Fleshpots of Egypt.
+
+He walked cheerfully towards the mosque of the baths. Remind you of a
+mosque, redbaked bricks, the minarets. College sports today I see. He
+eyed the horseshoe poster over the gate of college park: cyclist doubled
+up like a cod in a pot. Damn bad ad. Now if they had made it round
+like a wheel. Then the spokes: sports, sports, sports: and the hub big:
+college. Something to catch the eye.
+
+There's Hornblower standing at the porter's lodge. Keep him on hands:
+might take a turn in there on the nod. How do you do, Mr Hornblower? How
+do you do, sir?
+
+Heavenly weather really. If life was always like that. Cricket weather.
+Sit around under sunshades. Over after over. Out. They can't play it
+here. Duck for six wickets. Still Captain Culler broke a window in the
+Kildare street club with a slog to square leg. Donnybrook fair more
+in their line. And the skulls we were acracking when M'Carthy took the
+floor. Heatwave. Won't last. Always passing, the stream of life, which
+in the stream of life we trace is dearer than them all.
+
+Enjoy a bath now: clean trough of water, cool enamel, the gentle tepid
+stream. This is my body.
+
+He foresaw his pale body reclined in it at full, naked, in a womb of
+warmth, oiled by scented melting soap, softly laved. He saw his
+trunk and limbs riprippled over and sustained, buoyed lightly upward,
+lemonyellow: his navel, bud of flesh: and saw the dark tangled curls of
+his bush floating, floating hair of the stream around the limp father of
+thousands, a languid floating flower.
+
+
+
+Martin Cunningham, first, poked his silkhatted head into the creaking
+carriage and, entering deftly, seated himself. Mr Power stepped in after
+him, curving his height with care.
+
+--Come on, Simon.
+
+--After you, Mr Bloom said.
+
+Mr Dedalus covered himself quickly and got in, saying:
+
+Yes, yes.
+
+--Are we all here now? Martin Cunningham asked. Come along, Bloom.
+
+Mr Bloom entered and sat in the vacant place. He pulled the door to
+after him and slammed it twice till it shut tight. He passed an arm
+through the armstrap and looked seriously from the open carriagewindow
+at the lowered blinds of the avenue. One dragged aside: an old woman
+peeping. Nose whiteflattened against the pane. Thanking her stars she
+was passed over. Extraordinary the interest they take in a corpse. Glad
+to see us go we give them such trouble coming. Job seems to suit them.
+Huggermugger in corners. Slop about in slipperslappers for fear he'd
+wake. Then getting it ready. Laying it out. Molly and Mrs Fleming making
+the bed. Pull it more to your side. Our windingsheet. Never know who
+will touch you dead. Wash and shampoo. I believe they clip the nails and
+the hair. Keep a bit in an envelope. Grows all the same after. Unclean
+job.
+
+All waited. Nothing was said. Stowing in the wreaths probably. I am
+sitting on something hard. Ah, that soap: in my hip pocket. Better shift
+it out of that. Wait for an opportunity.
+
+All waited. Then wheels were heard from in front, turning: then nearer:
+then horses' hoofs. A jolt. Their carriage began to move, creaking and
+swaying. Other hoofs and creaking wheels started behind. The blinds of
+the avenue passed and number nine with its craped knocker, door ajar. At
+walking pace.
+
+They waited still, their knees jogging, till they had turned and were
+passing along the tramtracks. Tritonville road. Quicker. The wheels
+rattled rolling over the cobbled causeway and the crazy glasses shook
+rattling in the doorframes.
+
+--What way is he taking us? Mr Power asked through both windows.
+
+--Irishtown, Martin Cunningham said. Ringsend. Brunswick street.
+
+Mr Dedalus nodded, looking out.
+
+--That's a fine old custom, he said. I am glad to see it has not died
+out.
+
+All watched awhile through their windows caps and hats lifted by
+passers. Respect. The carriage swerved from the tramtrack to the
+smoother road past Watery lane. Mr Bloom at gaze saw a lithe young man,
+clad in mourning, a wide hat.
+
+--There's a friend of yours gone by, Dedalus, he said.
+
+--Who is that?
+
+--Your son and heir.
+
+--Where is he? Mr Dedalus said, stretching over across.
+
+The carriage, passing the open drains and mounds of rippedup roadway
+before the tenement houses, lurched round the corner and, swerving back
+to the tramtrack, rolled on noisily with chattering wheels. Mr Dedalus
+fell back, saying:
+
+--Was that Mulligan cad with him? His _fidus Achates_!
+
+--No, Mr Bloom said. He was alone.
+
+--Down with his aunt Sally, I suppose, Mr Dedalus said, the Goulding
+faction, the drunken little costdrawer and Crissie, papa's little lump
+of dung, the wise child that knows her own father.
+
+Mr Bloom smiled joylessly on Ringsend road. Wallace Bros: the
+bottleworks: Dodder bridge.
+
+Richie Goulding and the legal bag. Goulding, Collis and Ward he calls
+the firm. His jokes are getting a bit damp. Great card he was. Waltzing
+in Stamer street with Ignatius Gallaher on a Sunday morning, the
+landlady's two hats pinned on his head. Out on the rampage all night.
+Beginning to tell on him now: that backache of his, I fear. Wife ironing
+his back. Thinks he'll cure it with pills. All breadcrumbs they are.
+About six hundred per cent profit.
+
+--He's in with a lowdown crowd, Mr Dedalus snarled. That Mulligan is a
+contaminated bloody doubledyed ruffian by all accounts. His name stinks
+all over Dublin. But with the help of God and His blessed mother I'll
+make it my business to write a letter one of those days to his mother
+or his aunt or whatever she is that will open her eye as wide as a gate.
+I'll tickle his catastrophe, believe you me.
+
+He cried above the clatter of the wheels:
+
+--I won't have her bastard of a nephew ruin my son. A counterjumper's
+son. Selling tapes in my cousin, Peter Paul M'Swiney's. Not likely.
+
+He ceased. Mr Bloom glanced from his angry moustache to Mr Power's mild
+face and Martin Cunningham's eyes and beard, gravely shaking. Noisy
+selfwilled man. Full of his son. He is right. Something to hand on. If
+little Rudy had lived. See him grow up. Hear his voice in the house.
+Walking beside Molly in an Eton suit. My son. Me in his eyes. Strange
+feeling it would be. From me. Just a chance. Must have been that morning
+in Raymond terrace she was at the window watching the two dogs at it by
+the wall of the cease to do evil. And the sergeant grinning up. She had
+that cream gown on with the rip she never stitched. Give us a touch,
+Poldy. God, I'm dying for it. How life begins.
+
+Got big then. Had to refuse the Greystones concert. My son inside her.
+I could have helped him on in life. I could. Make him independent. Learn
+German too.
+
+--Are we late? Mr Power asked.
+
+--Ten minutes, Martin Cunningham said, looking at his watch.
+
+Molly. Milly. Same thing watered down. Her tomboy oaths. O jumping
+Jupiter! Ye gods and little fishes! Still, she's a dear girl. Soon be a
+woman. Mullingar. Dearest Papli. Young student. Yes, yes: a woman too.
+Life, life.
+
+The carriage heeled over and back, their four trunks swaying.
+
+--Corny might have given us a more commodious yoke, Mr Power said.
+
+--He might, Mr Dedalus said, if he hadn't that squint troubling him. Do
+you follow me?
+
+He closed his left eye. Martin Cunningham began to brush away
+crustcrumbs from under his thighs.
+
+--What is this, he said, in the name of God? Crumbs?
+
+--Someone seems to have been making a picnic party here lately, Mr Power
+said.
+
+All raised their thighs and eyed with disfavour the mildewed buttonless
+leather of the seats. Mr Dedalus, twisting his nose, frowned downward
+and said:
+
+--Unless I'm greatly mistaken. What do you think, Martin?
+
+--It struck me too, Martin Cunningham said.
+
+Mr Bloom set his thigh down. Glad I took that bath. Feel my feet quite
+clean. But I wish Mrs Fleming had darned these socks better.
+
+Mr Dedalus sighed resignedly.
+
+--After all, he said, it's the most natural thing in the world.
+
+--Did Tom Kernan turn up? Martin Cunningham asked, twirling the peak of
+his beard gently.
+
+--Yes, Mr Bloom answered. He's behind with Ned Lambert and Hynes.
+
+--And Corny Kelleher himself? Mr Power asked.
+
+--At the cemetery, Martin Cunningham said.
+
+--I met M'Coy this morning, Mr Bloom said. He said he'd try to come.
+
+The carriage halted short.
+
+--What's wrong?
+
+--We're stopped.
+
+--Where are we?
+
+Mr Bloom put his head out of the window.
+
+--The grand canal, he said.
+
+Gasworks. Whooping cough they say it cures. Good job Milly never got
+it. Poor children! Doubles them up black and blue in convulsions. Shame
+really. Got off lightly with illnesses compared. Only measles. Flaxseed
+tea. Scarlatina, influenza epidemics. Canvassing for death. Don't miss
+this chance. Dogs' home over there. Poor old Athos! Be good to Athos,
+Leopold, is my last wish. Thy will be done. We obey them in the grave.
+A dying scrawl. He took it to heart, pined away. Quiet brute. Old men's
+dogs usually are.
+
+A raindrop spat on his hat. He drew back and saw an instant of shower
+spray dots over the grey flags. Apart. Curious. Like through a colander.
+I thought it would. My boots were creaking I remember now.
+
+--The weather is changing, he said quietly.
+
+--A pity it did not keep up fine, Martin Cunningham said.
+
+--Wanted for the country, Mr Power said. There's the sun again coming
+out.
+
+Mr Dedalus, peering through his glasses towards the veiled sun, hurled a
+mute curse at the sky.
+
+--It's as uncertain as a child's bottom, he said.
+
+--We're off again.
+
+The carriage turned again its stiff wheels and their trunks swayed
+gently. Martin Cunningham twirled more quickly the peak of his beard.
+
+--Tom Kernan was immense last night, he said. And Paddy Leonard taking
+him off to his face.
+
+--O, draw him out, Martin, Mr Power said eagerly. Wait till you hear
+him, Simon, on Ben Dollard's singing of _The Croppy Boy_.
+
+--Immense, Martin Cunningham said pompously. _His singing of that simple
+ballad, Martin, is the most trenchant rendering I ever heard in the
+whole course of my experience._
+
+--Trenchant, Mr Power said laughing. He's dead nuts on that. And the
+retrospective arrangement.
+
+--Did you read Dan Dawson's speech? Martin Cunningham asked.
+
+--I did not then, Mr Dedalus said. Where is it?
+
+--In the paper this morning.
+
+Mr Bloom took the paper from his inside pocket. That book I must change
+for her.
+
+--No, no, Mr Dedalus said quickly. Later on please.
+
+Mr Bloom's glance travelled down the edge of the paper, scanning the
+deaths: Callan, Coleman, Dignam, Fawcett, Lowry, Naumann, Peake, what
+Peake is that? is it the chap was in Crosbie and Alleyne's? no, Sexton,
+Urbright. Inked characters fast fading on the frayed breaking paper.
+Thanks to the Little Flower. Sadly missed. To the inexpressible grief of
+his. Aged 88 after a long and tedious illness. Month's mind: Quinlan. On
+whose soul Sweet Jesus have mercy.
+
+_It is now a month since dear Henry fled To his home up above in the sky
+While his family weeps and mourns his loss Hoping some day to meet him
+on high._
+
+I tore up the envelope? Yes. Where did I put her letter after I read it
+in the bath? He patted his waistcoatpocket. There all right. Dear Henry
+fled. Before my patience are exhausted.
+
+National school. Meade's yard. The hazard. Only two there now. Nodding.
+Full as a tick. Too much bone in their skulls. The other trotting round
+with a fare. An hour ago I was passing there. The jarvies raised their
+hats.
+
+A pointsman's back straightened itself upright suddenly against a
+tramway standard by Mr Bloom's window. Couldn't they invent something
+automatic so that the wheel itself much handier? Well but that fellow
+would lose his job then? Well but then another fellow would get a job
+making the new invention?
+
+Antient concert rooms. Nothing on there. A man in a buff suit with a
+crape armlet. Not much grief there. Quarter mourning. People in law
+perhaps.
+
+They went past the bleak pulpit of saint Mark's, under the railway
+bridge, past the Queen's theatre: in silence. Hoardings: Eugene
+Stratton, Mrs Bandmann Palmer. Could I go to see LEAH tonight, I wonder.
+I said I. Or the _Lily of Killarney_? Elster Grimes Opera Company. Big
+powerful change. Wet bright bills for next week. _Fun on the Bristol_.
+Martin Cunningham could work a pass for the Gaiety. Have to stand a
+drink or two. As broad as it's long.
+
+He's coming in the afternoon. Her songs.
+
+Plasto's. Sir Philip Crampton's memorial fountain bust. Who was he?
+
+--How do you do? Martin Cunningham said, raising his palm to his brow in
+salute.
+
+--He doesn't see us, Mr Power said. Yes, he does. How do you do?
+
+--Who? Mr Dedalus asked.
+
+--Blazes Boylan, Mr Power said. There he is airing his quiff.
+
+Just that moment I was thinking.
+
+Mr Dedalus bent across to salute. From the door of the Red Bank the
+white disc of a straw hat flashed reply: spruce figure: passed.
+
+Mr Bloom reviewed the nails of his left hand, then those of his right
+hand. The nails, yes. Is there anything more in him that they she sees?
+Fascination. Worst man in Dublin. That keeps him alive. They sometimes
+feel what a person is. Instinct. But a type like that. My nails. I
+am just looking at them: well pared. And after: thinking alone. Body
+getting a bit softy. I would notice that: from remembering. What causes
+that? I suppose the skin can't contract quickly enough when the flesh
+falls off. But the shape is there. The shape is there still. Shoulders.
+Hips. Plump. Night of the dance dressing. Shift stuck between the cheeks
+behind.
+
+He clasped his hands between his knees and, satisfied, sent his vacant
+glance over their faces.
+
+Mr Power asked:
+
+--How is the concert tour getting on, Bloom?
+
+--O, very well, Mr Bloom said. I hear great accounts of it. It's a good
+idea, you see...
+
+--Are you going yourself?
+
+--Well no, Mr Bloom said. In point of fact I have to go down to the
+county Clare on some private business. You see the idea is to tour the
+chief towns. What you lose on one you can make up on the other.
+
+--Quite so, Martin Cunningham said. Mary Anderson is up there now.
+
+Have you good artists?
+
+--Louis Werner is touring her, Mr Bloom said. O yes, we'll have all
+topnobbers. J. C. Doyle and John MacCormack I hope and. The best, in
+fact.
+
+--And _Madame_, Mr Power said smiling. Last but not least.
+
+Mr Bloom unclasped his hands in a gesture of soft politeness and clasped
+them. Smith O'Brien. Someone has laid a bunch of flowers there. Woman.
+Must be his deathday. For many happy returns. The carriage wheeling by
+Farrell's statue united noiselessly their unresisting knees.
+
+Oot: a dullgarbed old man from the curbstone tendered his wares, his
+mouth opening: oot.
+
+--Four bootlaces for a penny.
+
+Wonder why he was struck off the rolls. Had his office in Hume street.
+Same house as Molly's namesake, Tweedy, crown solicitor for Waterford.
+Has that silk hat ever since. Relics of old decency. Mourning too.
+Terrible comedown, poor wretch! Kicked about like snuff at a wake.
+O'Callaghan on his last legs.
+
+And _Madame_. Twenty past eleven. Up. Mrs Fleming is in to clean. Doing
+her hair, humming. _voglio e non vorrei_. No. _vorrei e non_. Looking at
+the tips of her hairs to see if they are split. _Mi trema un poco
+il_. Beautiful on that _tre_ her voice is: weeping tone. A thrush. A
+throstle. There is a word throstle that expresses that.
+
+His eyes passed lightly over Mr Power's goodlooking face. Greyish over
+the ears. _Madame_: smiling. I smiled back. A smile goes a long way.
+Only politeness perhaps. Nice fellow. Who knows is that true about the
+woman he keeps? Not pleasant for the wife. Yet they say, who was it
+told me, there is no carnal. You would imagine that would get played
+out pretty quick. Yes, it was Crofton met him one evening bringing her
+a pound of rumpsteak. What is this she was? Barmaid in Jury's. Or the
+Moira, was it?
+
+They passed under the hugecloaked Liberator's form.
+
+Martin Cunningham nudged Mr Power.
+
+--Of the tribe of Reuben, he said.
+
+A tall blackbearded figure, bent on a stick, stumping round the corner
+of Elvery's Elephant house, showed them a curved hand open on his spine.
+
+--In all his pristine beauty, Mr Power said.
+
+Mr Dedalus looked after the stumping figure and said mildly:
+
+--The devil break the hasp of your back!
+
+Mr Power, collapsing in laughter, shaded his face from the window as the
+carriage passed Gray's statue.
+
+--We have all been there, Martin Cunningham said broadly.
+
+His eyes met Mr Bloom's eyes. He caressed his beard, adding:
+
+--Well, nearly all of us.
+
+Mr Bloom began to speak with sudden eagerness to his companions' faces.
+
+--That's an awfully good one that's going the rounds about Reuben J and
+the son.
+
+--About the boatman? Mr Power asked.
+
+--Yes. Isn't it awfully good?
+
+--What is that? Mr Dedalus asked. I didn't hear it.
+
+--There was a girl in the case, Mr Bloom began, and he determined to
+send him to the Isle of Man out of harm's way but when they were both
+...
+
+--What? Mr Dedalus asked. That confirmed bloody hobbledehoy is it?
+
+--Yes, Mr Bloom said. They were both on the way to the boat and he tried
+to drown...
+
+--Drown Barabbas! Mr Dedalus cried. I wish to Christ he did!
+
+Mr Power sent a long laugh down his shaded nostrils.
+
+--No, Mr Bloom said, the son himself...
+
+Martin Cunningham thwarted his speech rudely:
+
+--Reuben and the son were piking it down the quay next the river on
+their way to the Isle of Man boat and the young chiseller suddenly got
+loose and over the wall with him into the Liffey.
+
+--For God's sake! Mr Dedalus exclaimed in fright. Is he dead?
+
+--Dead! Martin Cunningham cried. Not he! A boatman got a pole and fished
+him out by the slack of the breeches and he was landed up to the father
+on the quay more dead than alive. Half the town was there.
+
+--Yes, Mr Bloom said. But the funny part is...
+
+--And Reuben J, Martin Cunningham said, gave the boatman a florin for
+saving his son's life.
+
+A stifled sigh came from under Mr Power's hand.
+
+--O, he did, Martin Cunningham affirmed. Like a hero. A silver florin.
+
+--Isn't it awfully good? Mr Bloom said eagerly.
+
+--One and eightpence too much, Mr Dedalus said drily.
+
+Mr Power's choked laugh burst quietly in the carriage.
+
+Nelson's pillar.
+
+--Eight plums a penny! Eight for a penny!
+
+--We had better look a little serious, Martin Cunningham said.
+
+Mr Dedalus sighed.
+
+--Ah then indeed, he said, poor little Paddy wouldn't grudge us a laugh.
+Many a good one he told himself.
+
+--The Lord forgive me! Mr Power said, wiping his wet eyes with his
+fingers. Poor Paddy! I little thought a week ago when I saw him last and
+he was in his usual health that I'd be driving after him like this. He's
+gone from us.
+
+--As decent a little man as ever wore a hat, Mr Dedalus said. He went
+very suddenly.
+
+--Breakdown, Martin Cunningham said. Heart.
+
+He tapped his chest sadly.
+
+Blazing face: redhot. Too much John Barleycorn. Cure for a red nose.
+Drink like the devil till it turns adelite. A lot of money he spent
+colouring it.
+
+Mr Power gazed at the passing houses with rueful apprehension.
+
+--He had a sudden death, poor fellow, he said.
+
+--The best death, Mr Bloom said.
+
+Their wide open eyes looked at him.
+
+--No suffering, he said. A moment and all is over. Like dying in sleep.
+
+No-one spoke.
+
+Dead side of the street this. Dull business by day, land agents,
+temperance hotel, Falconer's railway guide, civil service college,
+Gill's, catholic club, the industrious blind. Why? Some reason. Sun or
+wind. At night too. Chummies and slaveys. Under the patronage of the
+late Father Mathew. Foundation stone for Parnell. Breakdown. Heart.
+
+White horses with white frontlet plumes came round the Rotunda corner,
+galloping. A tiny coffin flashed by. In a hurry to bury. A mourning
+coach. Unmarried. Black for the married. Piebald for bachelors. Dun for
+a nun.
+
+--Sad, Martin Cunningham said. A child.
+
+A dwarf's face, mauve and wrinkled like little Rudy's was. Dwarf's body,
+weak as putty, in a whitelined deal box. Burial friendly society
+pays. Penny a week for a sod of turf. Our. Little. Beggar. Baby. Meant
+nothing. Mistake of nature. If it's healthy it's from the mother. If not
+from the man. Better luck next time.
+
+--Poor little thing, Mr Dedalus said. It's well out of it.
+
+The carriage climbed more slowly the hill of Rutland square. Rattle his
+bones. Over the stones. Only a pauper. Nobody owns.
+
+--In the midst of life, Martin Cunningham said.
+
+--But the worst of all, Mr Power said, is the man who takes his own
+life.
+
+Martin Cunningham drew out his watch briskly, coughed and put it back.
+
+--The greatest disgrace to have in the family, Mr Power added.
+
+--Temporary insanity, of course, Martin Cunningham said decisively. We
+must take a charitable view of it.
+
+--They say a man who does it is a coward, Mr Dedalus said.
+
+--It is not for us to judge, Martin Cunningham said.
+
+Mr Bloom, about to speak, closed his lips again. Martin Cunningham's
+large eyes. Looking away now. Sympathetic human man he is. Intelligent.
+Like Shakespeare's face. Always a good word to say. They have no mercy
+on that here or infanticide. Refuse christian burial. They used to drive
+a stake of wood through his heart in the grave. As if it wasn't broken
+already. Yet sometimes they repent too late. Found in the riverbed
+clutching rushes. He looked at me. And that awful drunkard of a wife
+of his. Setting up house for her time after time and then pawning the
+furniture on him every Saturday almost. Leading him the life of the
+damned. Wear the heart out of a stone, that. Monday morning. Start
+afresh. Shoulder to the wheel. Lord, she must have looked a sight
+that night Dedalus told me he was in there. Drunk about the place and
+capering with Martin's umbrella.
+
+ _And they call me the jewel of Asia,
+ Of Asia,
+ The Geisha._
+
+He looked away from me. He knows. Rattle his bones.
+
+That afternoon of the inquest. The redlabelled bottle on the table. The
+room in the hotel with hunting pictures. Stuffy it was. Sunlight through
+the slats of the Venetian blind. The coroner's sunlit ears, big and
+hairy. Boots giving evidence. Thought he was asleep first. Then saw like
+yellow streaks on his face. Had slipped down to the foot of the bed.
+Verdict: overdose. Death by misadventure. The letter. For my son
+Leopold.
+
+No more pain. Wake no more. Nobody owns.
+
+The carriage rattled swiftly along Blessington street. Over the stones.
+
+--We are going the pace, I think, Martin Cunningham said.
+
+--God grant he doesn't upset us on the road, Mr Power said.
+
+--I hope not, Martin Cunningham said. That will be a great race tomorrow
+in Germany. The Gordon Bennett.
+
+--Yes, by Jove, Mr Dedalus said. That will be worth seeing, faith.
+
+As they turned into Berkeley street a streetorgan near the Basin sent
+over and after them a rollicking rattling song of the halls. Has anybody
+here seen Kelly? Kay ee double ell wy. Dead March from _Saul._ He's
+as bad as old Antonio. He left me on my ownio. Pirouette! The _Mater
+Misericordiae_. Eccles street. My house down there. Big place. Ward for
+incurables there. Very encouraging. Our Lady's Hospice for the dying.
+Deadhouse handy underneath. Where old Mrs Riordan died. They look
+terrible the women. Her feeding cup and rubbing her mouth with the
+spoon. Then the screen round her bed for her to die. Nice young student
+that was dressed that bite the bee gave me. He's gone over to the
+lying-in hospital they told me. From one extreme to the other. The
+carriage galloped round a corner: stopped.
+
+--What's wrong now?
+
+A divided drove of branded cattle passed the windows, lowing, slouching
+by on padded hoofs, whisking their tails slowly on their clotted bony
+croups. Outside them and through them ran raddled sheep bleating their
+fear.
+
+--Emigrants, Mr Power said.
+
+--Huuuh! the drover's voice cried, his switch sounding on their flanks.
+
+Huuuh! out of that!
+
+Thursday, of course. Tomorrow is killing day. Springers. Cuffe sold them
+about twentyseven quid each. For Liverpool probably. Roastbeef for old
+England. They buy up all the juicy ones. And then the fifth quarter
+lost: all that raw stuff, hide, hair, horns. Comes to a big thing in a
+year. Dead meat trade. Byproducts of the slaughterhouses for tanneries,
+soap, margarine. Wonder if that dodge works now getting dicky meat off
+the train at Clonsilla.
+
+The carriage moved on through the drove.
+
+--I can't make out why the corporation doesn't run a tramline from the
+parkgate to the quays, Mr Bloom said. All those animals could be taken
+in trucks down to the boats.
+
+--Instead of blocking up the thoroughfare, Martin Cunningham said. Quite
+right. They ought to.
+
+--Yes, Mr Bloom said, and another thing I often thought, is to have
+municipal funeral trams like they have in Milan, you know. Run the line
+out to the cemetery gates and have special trams, hearse and carriage
+and all. Don't you see what I mean?
+
+--O, that be damned for a story, Mr Dedalus said. Pullman car and saloon
+diningroom.
+
+--A poor lookout for Corny, Mr Power added.
+
+--Why? Mr Bloom asked, turning to Mr Dedalus. Wouldn't it be more decent
+than galloping two abreast?
+
+--Well, there's something in that, Mr Dedalus granted.
+
+--And, Martin Cunningham said, we wouldn't have scenes like that when
+the hearse capsized round Dunphy's and upset the coffin on to the road.
+
+--That was terrible, Mr Power's shocked face said, and the corpse fell
+about the road. Terrible!
+
+--First round Dunphy's, Mr Dedalus said, nodding. Gordon Bennett cup.
+
+--Praises be to God! Martin Cunningham said piously.
+
+Bom! Upset. A coffin bumped out on to the road. Burst open. Paddy Dignam
+shot out and rolling over stiff in the dust in a brown habit too large
+for him. Red face: grey now. Mouth fallen open. Asking what's up now.
+Quite right to close it. Looks horrid open. Then the insides decompose
+quickly. Much better to close up all the orifices. Yes, also. With wax.
+The sphincter loose. Seal up all.
+
+--Dunphy's, Mr Power announced as the carriage turned right.
+
+Dunphy's corner. Mourning coaches drawn up, drowning their grief. A
+pause by the wayside. Tiptop position for a pub. Expect we'll pull up
+here on the way back to drink his health. Pass round the consolation.
+Elixir of life.
+
+But suppose now it did happen. Would he bleed if a nail say cut him
+in the knocking about? He would and he wouldn't, I suppose. Depends on
+where. The circulation stops. Still some might ooze out of an artery. It
+would be better to bury them in red: a dark red.
+
+In silence they drove along Phibsborough road. An empty hearse trotted
+by, coming from the cemetery: looks relieved.
+
+Crossguns bridge: the royal canal.
+
+Water rushed roaring through the sluices. A man stood on his
+dropping barge, between clamps of turf. On the towpath by the lock a
+slacktethered horse. Aboard of the _Bugabu._
+
+Their eyes watched him. On the slow weedy waterway he had floated on his
+raft coastward over Ireland drawn by a haulage rope past beds of
+reeds, over slime, mudchoked bottles, carrion dogs. Athlone, Mullingar,
+Moyvalley, I could make a walking tour to see Milly by the canal. Or
+cycle down. Hire some old crock, safety. Wren had one the other day at
+the auction but a lady's. Developing waterways. James M'Cann's hobby
+to row me o'er the ferry. Cheaper transit. By easy stages. Houseboats.
+Camping out. Also hearses. To heaven by water. Perhaps I will without
+writing. Come as a surprise, Leixlip, Clonsilla. Dropping down lock by
+lock to Dublin. With turf from the midland bogs. Salute. He lifted his
+brown straw hat, saluting Paddy Dignam.
+
+They drove on past Brian Boroimhe house. Near it now.
+
+--I wonder how is our friend Fogarty getting on, Mr Power said.
+
+--Better ask Tom Kernan, Mr Dedalus said.
+
+--How is that? Martin Cunningham said. Left him weeping, I suppose?
+
+--Though lost to sight, Mr Dedalus said, to memory dear.
+
+The carriage steered left for Finglas road.
+
+The stonecutter's yard on the right. Last lap. Crowded on the spit of
+land silent shapes appeared, white, sorrowful, holding out calm hands,
+knelt in grief, pointing. Fragments of shapes, hewn. In white silence:
+appealing. The best obtainable. Thos. H. Dennany, monumental builder and
+sculptor.
+
+Passed.
+
+On the curbstone before Jimmy Geary, the sexton's, an old tramp sat,
+grumbling, emptying the dirt and stones out of his huge dustbrown
+yawning boot. After life's journey.
+
+Gloomy gardens then went by: one by one: gloomy houses.
+
+Mr Power pointed.
+
+--That is where Childs was murdered, he said. The last house.
+
+--So it is, Mr Dedalus said. A gruesome case. Seymour Bushe got him off.
+Murdered his brother. Or so they said.
+
+--The crown had no evidence, Mr Power said.
+
+--Only circumstantial, Martin Cunningham added. That's the maxim of the
+law. Better for ninetynine guilty to escape than for one innocent person
+to be wrongfully condemned.
+
+They looked. Murderer's ground. It passed darkly. Shuttered, tenantless,
+unweeded garden. Whole place gone to hell. Wrongfully condemned. Murder.
+The murderer's image in the eye of the murdered. They love reading about
+it. Man's head found in a garden. Her clothing consisted of. How she met
+her death. Recent outrage. The weapon used. Murderer is still at large.
+Clues. A shoelace. The body to be exhumed. Murder will out.
+
+Cramped in this carriage. She mightn't like me to come that way without
+letting her know. Must be careful about women. Catch them once with
+their pants down. Never forgive you after. Fifteen.
+
+The high railings of Prospect rippled past their gaze. Dark poplars,
+rare white forms. Forms more frequent, white shapes thronged amid the
+trees, white forms and fragments streaming by mutely, sustaining vain
+gestures on the air.
+
+The felly harshed against the curbstone: stopped. Martin Cunningham put
+out his arm and, wrenching back the handle, shoved the door open with
+his knee. He stepped out. Mr Power and Mr Dedalus followed.
+
+Change that soap now. Mr Bloom's hand unbuttoned his hip pocket swiftly
+and transferred the paperstuck soap to his inner handkerchief pocket.
+He stepped out of the carriage, replacing the newspaper his other hand
+still held.
+
+Paltry funeral: coach and three carriages. It's all the same.
+Pallbearers, gold reins, requiem mass, firing a volley. Pomp of death.
+Beyond the hind carriage a hawker stood by his barrow of cakes and
+fruit. Simnel cakes those are, stuck together: cakes for the dead.
+Dogbiscuits. Who ate them? Mourners coming out.
+
+He followed his companions. Mr Kernan and Ned Lambert followed, Hynes
+walking after them. Corny Kelleher stood by the opened hearse and took
+out the two wreaths. He handed one to the boy.
+
+Where is that child's funeral disappeared to?
+
+A team of horses passed from Finglas with toiling plodding tread,
+dragging through the funereal silence a creaking waggon on which lay a
+granite block. The waggoner marching at their head saluted.
+
+Coffin now. Got here before us, dead as he is. Horse looking round at it
+with his plume skeowways. Dull eye: collar tight on his neck, pressing
+on a bloodvessel or something. Do they know what they cart out here
+every day? Must be twenty or thirty funerals every day. Then Mount
+Jerome for the protestants. Funerals all over the world everywhere every
+minute. Shovelling them under by the cartload doublequick. Thousands
+every hour. Too many in the world.
+
+Mourners came out through the gates: woman and a girl. Leanjawed harpy,
+hard woman at a bargain, her bonnet awry. Girl's face stained with dirt
+and tears, holding the woman's arm, looking up at her for a sign to cry.
+Fish's face, bloodless and livid.
+
+The mutes shouldered the coffin and bore it in through the gates. So
+much dead weight. Felt heavier myself stepping out of that bath. First
+the stiff: then the friends of the stiff. Corny Kelleher and the
+boy followed with their wreaths. Who is that beside them? Ah, the
+brother-in-law.
+
+All walked after.
+
+Martin Cunningham whispered:
+
+--I was in mortal agony with you talking of suicide before Bloom.
+
+--What? Mr Power whispered. How so?
+
+--His father poisoned himself, Martin Cunningham whispered. Had the
+Queen's hotel in Ennis. You heard him say he was going to Clare.
+Anniversary.
+
+--O God! Mr Power whispered. First I heard of it. Poisoned himself?
+
+He glanced behind him to where a face with dark thinking eyes followed
+towards the cardinal's mausoleum. Speaking.
+
+--Was he insured? Mr Bloom asked.
+
+--I believe so, Mr Kernan answered. But the policy was heavily
+mortgaged. Martin is trying to get the youngster into Artane.
+
+--How many children did he leave?
+
+--Five. Ned Lambert says he'll try to get one of the girls into Todd's.
+
+--A sad case, Mr Bloom said gently. Five young children.
+
+--A great blow to the poor wife, Mr Kernan added.
+
+--Indeed yes, Mr Bloom agreed.
+
+Has the laugh at him now.
+
+He looked down at the boots he had blacked and polished. She had
+outlived him. Lost her husband. More dead for her than for me. One must
+outlive the other. Wise men say. There are more women than men in the
+world. Condole with her. Your terrible loss. I hope you'll soon follow
+him. For Hindu widows only. She would marry another. Him? No. Yet who
+knows after. Widowhood not the thing since the old queen died. Drawn on
+a guncarriage. Victoria and Albert. Frogmore memorial mourning. But
+in the end she put a few violets in her bonnet. Vain in her heart of
+hearts. All for a shadow. Consort not even a king. Her son was the
+substance. Something new to hope for not like the past she wanted back,
+waiting. It never comes. One must go first: alone, under the ground: and
+lie no more in her warm bed.
+
+--How are you, Simon? Ned Lambert said softly, clasping hands. Haven't
+seen you for a month of Sundays.
+
+--Never better. How are all in Cork's own town?
+
+--I was down there for the Cork park races on Easter Monday, Ned Lambert
+said. Same old six and eightpence. Stopped with Dick Tivy.
+
+--And how is Dick, the solid man?
+
+--Nothing between himself and heaven, Ned Lambert answered.
+
+--By the holy Paul! Mr Dedalus said in subdued wonder. Dick Tivy bald?
+
+--Martin is going to get up a whip for the youngsters, Ned Lambert said,
+pointing ahead. A few bob a skull. Just to keep them going till the
+insurance is cleared up.
+
+--Yes, yes, Mr Dedalus said dubiously. Is that the eldest boy in front?
+
+--Yes, Ned Lambert said, with the wife's brother. John Henry Menton is
+behind. He put down his name for a quid.
+
+--I'll engage he did, Mr Dedalus said. I often told poor Paddy he ought
+to mind that job. John Henry is not the worst in the world.
+
+--How did he lose it? Ned Lambert asked. Liquor, what?
+
+--Many a good man's fault, Mr Dedalus said with a sigh.
+
+They halted about the door of the mortuary chapel. Mr Bloom stood behind
+the boy with the wreath looking down at his sleekcombed hair and at the
+slender furrowed neck inside his brandnew collar. Poor boy! Was he there
+when the father? Both unconscious. Lighten up at the last moment
+and recognise for the last time. All he might have done. I owe three
+shillings to O'Grady. Would he understand? The mutes bore the coffin
+into the chapel. Which end is his head?
+
+After a moment he followed the others in, blinking in the screened
+light. The coffin lay on its bier before the chancel, four tall yellow
+candles at its corners. Always in front of us. Corny Kelleher, laying a
+wreath at each fore corner, beckoned to the boy to kneel. The mourners
+knelt here and there in prayingdesks. Mr Bloom stood behind near the
+font and, when all had knelt, dropped carefully his unfolded newspaper
+from his pocket and knelt his right knee upon it. He fitted his black
+hat gently on his left knee and, holding its brim, bent over piously.
+
+A server bearing a brass bucket with something in it came out through a
+door. The whitesmocked priest came after him, tidying his stole with one
+hand, balancing with the other a little book against his toad's belly.
+Who'll read the book? I, said the rook.
+
+They halted by the bier and the priest began to read out of his book
+with a fluent croak.
+
+Father Coffey. I knew his name was like a coffin. _Domine-namine._ Bully
+about the muzzle he looks. Bosses the show. Muscular christian. Woe
+betide anyone that looks crooked at him: priest. Thou art Peter. Burst
+sideways like a sheep in clover Dedalus says he will. With a belly on
+him like a poisoned pup. Most amusing expressions that man finds. Hhhn:
+burst sideways.
+
+_--Non intres in judicium cum servo tuo, Domine._
+
+Makes them feel more important to be prayed over in Latin. Requiem mass.
+Crape weepers. Blackedged notepaper. Your name on the altarlist. Chilly
+place this. Want to feed well, sitting in there all the morning in the
+gloom kicking his heels waiting for the next please. Eyes of a toad too.
+What swells him up that way? Molly gets swelled after cabbage. Air of
+the place maybe. Looks full up of bad gas. Must be an infernal lot
+of bad gas round the place. Butchers, for instance: they get like raw
+beefsteaks. Who was telling me? Mervyn Browne. Down in the vaults of
+saint Werburgh's lovely old organ hundred and fifty they have to bore a
+hole in the coffins sometimes to let out the bad gas and burn it. Out it
+rushes: blue. One whiff of that and you're a goner.
+
+My kneecap is hurting me. Ow. That's better.
+
+The priest took a stick with a knob at the end of it out of the boy's
+bucket and shook it over the coffin. Then he walked to the other end and
+shook it again. Then he came back and put it back in the bucket. As you
+were before you rested. It's all written down: he has to do it.
+
+_--Et ne nos inducas in tentationem._
+
+The server piped the answers in the treble. I often thought it would be
+better to have boy servants. Up to fifteen or so. After that, of course
+...
+
+Holy water that was, I expect. Shaking sleep out of it. He must be fed
+up with that job, shaking that thing over all the corpses they trot up.
+What harm if he could see what he was shaking it over. Every mortal
+day a fresh batch: middleaged men, old women, children, women dead in
+childbirth, men with beards, baldheaded businessmen, consumptive girls
+with little sparrows' breasts. All the year round he prayed the same
+thing over them all and shook water on top of them: sleep. On Dignam
+now.
+
+_--In paradisum._
+
+Said he was going to paradise or is in paradise. Says that over
+everybody. Tiresome kind of a job. But he has to say something.
+
+The priest closed his book and went off, followed by the server. Corny
+Kelleher opened the sidedoors and the gravediggers came in, hoisted the
+coffin again, carried it out and shoved it on their cart. Corny Kelleher
+gave one wreath to the boy and one to the brother-in-law. All followed
+them out of the sidedoors into the mild grey air. Mr Bloom came last
+folding his paper again into his pocket. He gazed gravely at the ground
+till the coffincart wheeled off to the left. The metal wheels ground the
+gravel with a sharp grating cry and the pack of blunt boots followed the
+trundled barrow along a lane of sepulchres.
+
+The ree the ra the ree the ra the roo. Lord, I mustn't lilt here.
+
+--The O'Connell circle, Mr Dedalus said about him.
+
+Mr Power's soft eyes went up to the apex of the lofty cone.
+
+--He's at rest, he said, in the middle of his people, old Dan O'. But
+his heart is buried in Rome. How many broken hearts are buried here,
+Simon!
+
+--Her grave is over there, Jack, Mr Dedalus said. I'll soon be stretched
+beside her. Let Him take me whenever He likes.
+
+Breaking down, he began to weep to himself quietly, stumbling a little
+in his walk. Mr Power took his arm.
+
+--She's better where she is, he said kindly.
+
+--I suppose so, Mr Dedalus said with a weak gasp. I suppose she is in
+heaven if there is a heaven.
+
+Corny Kelleher stepped aside from his rank and allowed the mourners to
+plod by.
+
+--Sad occasions, Mr Kernan began politely.
+
+Mr Bloom closed his eyes and sadly twice bowed his head.
+
+--The others are putting on their hats, Mr Kernan said. I suppose we can
+do so too. We are the last. This cemetery is a treacherous place.
+
+They covered their heads.
+
+--The reverend gentleman read the service too quickly, don't you think?
+Mr Kernan said with reproof.
+
+Mr Bloom nodded gravely looking in the quick bloodshot eyes. Secret
+eyes, secretsearching. Mason, I think: not sure. Beside him again. We
+are the last. In the same boat. Hope he'll say something else.
+
+Mr Kernan added:
+
+--The service of the Irish church used in Mount Jerome is simpler, more
+impressive I must say.
+
+Mr Bloom gave prudent assent. The language of course was another thing.
+
+Mr Kernan said with solemnity:
+
+--_I am the resurrection and the life_. That touches a man's inmost
+heart.
+
+--It does, Mr Bloom said.
+
+Your heart perhaps but what price the fellow in the six feet by two
+with his toes to the daisies? No touching that. Seat of the affections.
+Broken heart. A pump after all, pumping thousands of gallons of blood
+every day. One fine day it gets bunged up: and there you are. Lots of
+them lying around here: lungs, hearts, livers. Old rusty pumps: damn
+the thing else. The resurrection and the life. Once you are dead you are
+dead. That last day idea. Knocking them all up out of their graves. Come
+forth, Lazarus! And he came fifth and lost the job. Get up! Last day!
+Then every fellow mousing around for his liver and his lights and the
+rest of his traps. Find damn all of himself that morning. Pennyweight of
+powder in a skull. Twelve grammes one pennyweight. Troy measure.
+
+Corny Kelleher fell into step at their side.
+
+--Everything went off A1, he said. What?
+
+He looked on them from his drawling eye. Policeman's shoulders. With
+your tooraloom tooraloom.
+
+--As it should be, Mr Kernan said.
+
+--What? Eh? Corny Kelleher said.
+
+Mr Kernan assured him.
+
+--Who is that chap behind with Tom Kernan? John Henry Menton asked. I
+know his face.
+
+Ned Lambert glanced back.
+
+--Bloom, he said, Madame Marion Tweedy that was, is, I mean, the
+soprano. She's his wife.
+
+--O, to be sure, John Henry Menton said. I haven't seen her for some
+time. He was a finelooking woman. I danced with her, wait, fifteen
+seventeen golden years ago, at Mat Dillon's in Roundtown. And a good
+armful she was.
+
+He looked behind through the others.
+
+--What is he? he asked. What does he do? Wasn't he in the stationery
+line? I fell foul of him one evening, I remember, at bowls.
+
+Ned Lambert smiled.
+
+--Yes, he was, he said, in Wisdom Hely's. A traveller for blottingpaper.
+
+--In God's name, John Henry Menton said, what did she marry a coon like
+that for? She had plenty of game in her then.
+
+--Has still, Ned Lambert said. He does some canvassing for ads.
+
+John Henry Menton's large eyes stared ahead.
+
+The barrow turned into a side lane. A portly man, ambushed among the
+grasses, raised his hat in homage. The gravediggers touched their caps.
+
+--John O'Connell, Mr Power said pleased. He never forgets a friend.
+
+Mr O'Connell shook all their hands in silence. Mr Dedalus said:
+
+--I am come to pay you another visit.
+
+--My dear Simon, the caretaker answered in a low voice. I don't want
+your custom at all.
+
+Saluting Ned Lambert and John Henry Menton he walked on at Martin
+Cunningham's side puzzling two long keys at his back.
+
+--Did you hear that one, he asked them, about Mulcahy from the Coombe?
+
+--I did not, Martin Cunningham said.
+
+They bent their silk hats in concert and Hynes inclined his ear. The
+caretaker hung his thumbs in the loops of his gold watchchain and spoke
+in a discreet tone to their vacant smiles.
+
+--They tell the story, he said, that two drunks came out here one foggy
+evening to look for the grave of a friend of theirs. They asked for
+Mulcahy from the Coombe and were told where he was buried. After
+traipsing about in the fog they found the grave sure enough. One of the
+drunks spelt out the name: Terence Mulcahy. The other drunk was blinking
+up at a statue of Our Saviour the widow had got put up.
+
+The caretaker blinked up at one of the sepulchres they passed. He
+resumed:
+
+--And, after blinking up at the sacred figure, _Not a bloody bit like
+the man_, says he. _That's not Mulcahy_, says he, _whoever done it_.
+
+Rewarded by smiles he fell back and spoke with Corny Kelleher, accepting
+the dockets given him, turning them over and scanning them as he walked.
+
+--That's all done with a purpose, Martin Cunningham explained to Hynes.
+
+--I know, Hynes said. I know that.
+
+--To cheer a fellow up, Martin Cunningham said. It's pure
+goodheartedness: damn the thing else.
+
+Mr Bloom admired the caretaker's prosperous bulk. All want to be on good
+terms with him. Decent fellow, John O'Connell, real good sort. Keys:
+like Keyes's ad: no fear of anyone getting out. No passout checks.
+_Habeas corpus_. I must see about that ad after the funeral. Did I
+write Ballsbridge on the envelope I took to cover when she disturbed me
+writing to Martha? Hope it's not chucked in the dead letter office. Be
+the better of a shave. Grey sprouting beard. That's the first sign when
+the hairs come out grey. And temper getting cross. Silver threads among
+the grey. Fancy being his wife. Wonder he had the gumption to propose to
+any girl. Come out and live in the graveyard. Dangle that before her. It
+might thrill her first. Courting death... Shades of night hovering
+here with all the dead stretched about. The shadows of the tombs when
+churchyards yawn and Daniel O'Connell must be a descendant I suppose
+who is this used to say he was a queer breedy man great catholic all the
+same like a big giant in the dark. Will o' the wisp. Gas of graves.
+Want to keep her mind off it to conceive at all. Women especially are so
+touchy. Tell her a ghost story in bed to make her sleep. Have you ever
+seen a ghost? Well, I have. It was a pitchdark night. The clock was on
+the stroke of twelve. Still they'd kiss all right if properly keyed up.
+Whores in Turkish graveyards. Learn anything if taken young. You might
+pick up a young widow here. Men like that. Love among the tombstones.
+Romeo. Spice of pleasure. In the midst of death we are in life. Both
+ends meet. Tantalising for the poor dead. Smell of grilled beefsteaks to
+the starving. Gnawing their vitals. Desire to grig people. Molly wanting
+to do it at the window. Eight children he has anyway.
+
+He has seen a fair share go under in his time, lying around him field
+after field. Holy fields. More room if they buried them standing.
+Sitting or kneeling you couldn't. Standing? His head might come up some
+day above ground in a landslip with his hand pointing. All honeycombed
+the ground must be: oblong cells. And very neat he keeps it too: trim
+grass and edgings. His garden Major Gamble calls Mount Jerome. Well,
+so it is. Ought to be flowers of sleep. Chinese cemeteries with giant
+poppies growing produce the best opium Mastiansky told me. The Botanic
+Gardens are just over there. It's the blood sinking in the earth gives
+new life. Same idea those jews they said killed the christian boy. Every
+man his price. Well preserved fat corpse, gentleman, epicure, invaluable
+for fruit garden. A bargain. By carcass of William Wilkinson, auditor
+and accountant, lately deceased, three pounds thirteen and six. With
+thanks.
+
+I daresay the soil would be quite fat with corpsemanure, bones, flesh,
+nails. Charnelhouses. Dreadful. Turning green and pink decomposing. Rot
+quick in damp earth. The lean old ones tougher. Then a kind of a tallowy
+kind of a cheesy. Then begin to get black, black treacle oozing out of
+them. Then dried up. Deathmoths. Of course the cells or whatever they
+are go on living. Changing about. Live for ever practically. Nothing to
+feed on feed on themselves.
+
+But they must breed a devil of a lot of maggots. Soil must be simply
+swirling with them. Your head it simply swurls. Those pretty little
+seaside gurls. He looks cheerful enough over it. Gives him a sense of
+power seeing all the others go under first. Wonder how he looks at life.
+Cracking his jokes too: warms the cockles of his heart. The one about
+the bulletin. Spurgeon went to heaven 4 a.m. this morning. 11 p.m.
+(closing time). Not arrived yet. Peter. The dead themselves the men
+anyhow would like to hear an odd joke or the women to know what's in
+fashion. A juicy pear or ladies' punch, hot, strong and sweet. Keep
+out the damp. You must laugh sometimes so better do it that way.
+Gravediggers in _Hamlet_. Shows the profound knowledge of the human
+heart. Daren't joke about the dead for two years at least. _De mortuis
+nil nisi prius_. Go out of mourning first. Hard to imagine his funeral.
+Seems a sort of a joke. Read your own obituary notice they say you live
+longer. Gives you second wind. New lease of life.
+
+--How many have-you for tomorrow? the caretaker asked.
+
+--Two, Corny Kelleher said. Half ten and eleven.
+
+The caretaker put the papers in his pocket. The barrow had ceased to
+trundle. The mourners split and moved to each side of the hole, stepping
+with care round the graves. The gravediggers bore the coffin and set its
+nose on the brink, looping the bands round it.
+
+Burying him. We come to bury Caesar. His ides of March or June. He
+doesn't know who is here nor care. Now who is that lankylooking galoot
+over there in the macintosh? Now who is he I'd like to know? Now I'd
+give a trifle to know who he is. Always someone turns up you never
+dreamt of. A fellow could live on his lonesome all his life. Yes, he
+could. Still he'd have to get someone to sod him after he died though he
+could dig his own grave. We all do. Only man buries. No, ants too. First
+thing strikes anybody. Bury the dead. Say Robinson Crusoe was true to
+life. Well then Friday buried him. Every Friday buries a Thursday if you
+come to look at it.
+
+ _O, poor Robinson Crusoe!
+ How could you possibly do so?_
+
+Poor Dignam! His last lie on the earth in his box. When you think of
+them all it does seem a waste of wood. All gnawed through. They could
+invent a handsome bier with a kind of panel sliding, let it down that
+way. Ay but they might object to be buried out of another fellow's.
+They're so particular. Lay me in my native earth. Bit of clay from
+the holy land. Only a mother and deadborn child ever buried in the one
+coffin. I see what it means. I see. To protect him as long as possible
+even in the earth. The Irishman's house is his coffin. Embalming in
+catacombs, mummies the same idea.
+
+Mr Bloom stood far back, his hat in his hand, counting the bared heads.
+Twelve. I'm thirteen. No. The chap in the macintosh is thirteen. Death's
+number. Where the deuce did he pop out of? He wasn't in the chapel, that
+I'll swear. Silly superstition that about thirteen.
+
+Nice soft tweed Ned Lambert has in that suit. Tinge of purple. I had
+one like that when we lived in Lombard street west. Dressy fellow he was
+once. Used to change three suits in the day. Must get that grey suit
+of mine turned by Mesias. Hello. It's dyed. His wife I forgot he's not
+married or his landlady ought to have picked out those threads for him.
+
+The coffin dived out of sight, eased down by the men straddled on the
+gravetrestles. They struggled up and out: and all uncovered. Twenty.
+
+Pause.
+
+If we were all suddenly somebody else.
+
+Far away a donkey brayed. Rain. No such ass. Never see a dead one, they
+say. Shame of death. They hide. Also poor papa went away.
+
+Gentle sweet air blew round the bared heads in a whisper. Whisper. The
+boy by the gravehead held his wreath with both hands staring quietly in
+the black open space. Mr Bloom moved behind the portly kindly caretaker.
+Wellcut frockcoat. Weighing them up perhaps to see which will go next.
+Well, it is a long rest. Feel no more. It's the moment you feel. Must be
+damned unpleasant. Can't believe it at first. Mistake must be: someone
+else. Try the house opposite. Wait, I wanted to. I haven't yet. Then
+darkened deathchamber. Light they want. Whispering around you. Would you
+like to see a priest? Then rambling and wandering. Delirium all you hid
+all your life. The death struggle. His sleep is not natural. Press his
+lower eyelid. Watching is his nose pointed is his jaw sinking are the
+soles of his feet yellow. Pull the pillow away and finish it off on the
+floor since he's doomed. Devil in that picture of sinner's death showing
+him a woman. Dying to embrace her in his shirt. Last act of _Lucia.
+Shall i nevermore behold thee_? Bam! He expires. Gone at last. People
+talk about you a bit: forget you. Don't forget to pray for him. Remember
+him in your prayers. Even Parnell. Ivy day dying out. Then they follow:
+dropping into a hole, one after the other.
+
+We are praying now for the repose of his soul. Hoping you're well and
+not in hell. Nice change of air. Out of the fryingpan of life into the
+fire of purgatory.
+
+Does he ever think of the hole waiting for himself? They say you do when
+you shiver in the sun. Someone walking over it. Callboy's warning. Near
+you. Mine over there towards Finglas, the plot I bought. Mamma, poor
+mamma, and little Rudy.
+
+The gravediggers took up their spades and flung heavy clods of clay in
+on the coffin. Mr Bloom turned away his face. And if he was alive all
+the time? Whew! By jingo, that would be awful! No, no: he is dead, of
+course. Of course he is dead. Monday he died. They ought to have
+some law to pierce the heart and make sure or an electric clock or
+a telephone in the coffin and some kind of a canvas airhole. Flag of
+distress. Three days. Rather long to keep them in summer. Just as well
+to get shut of them as soon as you are sure there's no.
+
+The clay fell softer. Begin to be forgotten. Out of sight, out of mind.
+
+The caretaker moved away a few paces and put on his hat. Had enough of
+it. The mourners took heart of grace, one by one, covering themselves
+without show. Mr Bloom put on his hat and saw the portly figure make its
+way deftly through the maze of graves. Quietly, sure of his ground, he
+traversed the dismal fields.
+
+Hynes jotting down something in his notebook. Ah, the names. But he
+knows them all. No: coming to me.
+
+--I am just taking the names, Hynes said below his breath. What is your
+christian name? I'm not sure.
+
+--L, Mr Bloom said. Leopold. And you might put down M'Coy's name too. He
+asked me to.
+
+--Charley, Hynes said writing. I know. He was on the _Freeman_ once.
+
+So he was before he got the job in the morgue under Louis Byrne. Good
+idea a postmortem for doctors. Find out what they imagine they know.
+He died of a Tuesday. Got the run. Levanted with the cash of a few ads.
+Charley, you're my darling. That was why he asked me to. O well, does
+no harm. I saw to that, M'Coy. Thanks, old chap: much obliged. Leave him
+under an obligation: costs nothing.
+
+--And tell us, Hynes said, do you know that fellow in the, fellow was
+over there in the...
+
+He looked around.
+
+--Macintosh. Yes, I saw him, Mr Bloom said. Where is he now?
+
+--M'Intosh, Hynes said scribbling. I don't know who he is. Is that his
+name?
+
+He moved away, looking about him.
+
+--No, Mr Bloom began, turning and stopping. I say, Hynes!
+
+Didn't hear. What? Where has he disappeared to? Not a sign. Well of all
+the. Has anybody here seen? Kay ee double ell. Become invisible. Good
+Lord, what became of him?
+
+A seventh gravedigger came beside Mr Bloom to take up an idle spade.
+
+--O, excuse me!
+
+He stepped aside nimbly.
+
+Clay, brown, damp, began to be seen in the hole. It rose. Nearly over.
+A mound of damp clods rose more, rose, and the gravediggers rested their
+spades. All uncovered again for a few instants. The boy propped
+his wreath against a corner: the brother-in-law his on a lump. The
+gravediggers put on their caps and carried their earthy spades towards
+the barrow. Then knocked the blades lightly on the turf: clean. One bent
+to pluck from the haft a long tuft of grass. One, leaving his mates,
+walked slowly on with shouldered weapon, its blade blueglancing.
+Silently at the gravehead another coiled the coffinband. His navelcord.
+The brother-in-law, turning away, placed something in his free hand.
+Thanks in silence. Sorry, sir: trouble. Headshake. I know that. For
+yourselves just.
+
+The mourners moved away slowly without aim, by devious paths, staying at
+whiles to read a name on a tomb.
+
+--Let us go round by the chief's grave, Hynes said. We have time.
+
+--Let us, Mr Power said.
+
+They turned to the right, following their slow thoughts. With awe Mr
+Power's blank voice spoke:
+
+--Some say he is not in that grave at all. That the coffin was filled
+with stones. That one day he will come again.
+
+Hynes shook his head.
+
+--Parnell will never come again, he said. He's there, all that was
+mortal of him. Peace to his ashes.
+
+Mr Bloom walked unheeded along his grove by saddened angels, crosses,
+broken pillars, family vaults, stone hopes praying with upcast eyes,
+old Ireland's hearts and hands. More sensible to spend the money on some
+charity for the living. Pray for the repose of the soul of. Does anybody
+really? Plant him and have done with him. Like down a coalshoot. Then
+lump them together to save time. All souls' day. Twentyseventh I'll be
+at his grave. Ten shillings for the gardener. He keeps it free of weeds.
+Old man himself. Bent down double with his shears clipping. Near death's
+door. Who passed away. Who departed this life. As if they did it of
+their own accord. Got the shove, all of them. Who kicked the
+bucket. More interesting if they told you what they were. So and So,
+wheelwright. I travelled for cork lino. I paid five shillings in the
+pound. Or a woman's with her saucepan. I cooked good Irish stew.
+Eulogy in a country churchyard it ought to be that poem of whose is it
+Wordsworth or Thomas Campbell. Entered into rest the protestants put it.
+Old Dr Murren's. The great physician called him home. Well it's God's
+acre for them. Nice country residence. Newly plastered and painted.
+Ideal spot to have a quiet smoke and read the _Church Times._ Marriage
+ads they never try to beautify. Rusty wreaths hung on knobs, garlands of
+bronzefoil. Better value that for the money. Still, the flowers are more
+poetical. The other gets rather tiresome, never withering. Expresses
+nothing. Immortelles.
+
+A bird sat tamely perched on a poplar branch. Like stuffed. Like the
+wedding present alderman Hooper gave us. Hoo! Not a budge out of him.
+Knows there are no catapults to let fly at him. Dead animal even sadder.
+Silly-Milly burying the little dead bird in the kitchen matchbox, a
+daisychain and bits of broken chainies on the grave.
+
+The Sacred Heart that is: showing it. Heart on his sleeve. Ought to be
+sideways and red it should be painted like a real heart. Ireland was
+dedicated to it or whatever that. Seems anything but pleased. Why this
+infliction? Would birds come then and peck like the boy with the basket
+of fruit but he said no because they ought to have been afraid of the
+boy. Apollo that was.
+
+How many! All these here once walked round Dublin. Faithful departed. As
+you are now so once were we.
+
+Besides how could you remember everybody? Eyes, walk, voice. Well, the
+voice, yes: gramophone. Have a gramophone in every grave or keep it in
+the house. After dinner on a Sunday. Put on poor old greatgrandfather.
+Kraahraark! Hellohellohello amawfullyglad kraark awfullygladaseeagain
+hellohello amawf krpthsth. Remind you of the voice like the photograph
+reminds you of the face. Otherwise you couldn't remember the face after
+fifteen years, say. For instance who? For instance some fellow that died
+when I was in Wisdom Hely's.
+
+Rtststr! A rattle of pebbles. Wait. Stop!
+
+He looked down intently into a stone crypt. Some animal. Wait. There he
+goes.
+
+An obese grey rat toddled along the side of the crypt, moving the
+pebbles. An old stager: greatgrandfather: he knows the ropes. The grey
+alive crushed itself in under the plinth, wriggled itself in under it.
+Good hidingplace for treasure.
+
+Who lives there? Are laid the remains of Robert Emery. Robert Emmet was
+buried here by torchlight, wasn't he? Making his rounds.
+
+Tail gone now.
+
+One of those chaps would make short work of a fellow. Pick the bones
+clean no matter who it was. Ordinary meat for them. A corpse is meat
+gone bad. Well and what's cheese? Corpse of milk. I read in that
+_Voyages in China_ that the Chinese say a white man smells like a
+corpse. Cremation better. Priests dead against it. Devilling for the
+other firm. Wholesale burners and Dutch oven dealers. Time of the
+plague. Quicklime feverpits to eat them. Lethal chamber. Ashes to ashes.
+Or bury at sea. Where is that Parsee tower of silence? Eaten by birds.
+Earth, fire, water. Drowning they say is the pleasantest. See your whole
+life in a flash. But being brought back to life no. Can't bury in the
+air however. Out of a flying machine. Wonder does the news go about
+whenever a fresh one is let down. Underground communication. We learned
+that from them. Wouldn't be surprised. Regular square feed for them.
+Flies come before he's well dead. Got wind of Dignam. They wouldn't care
+about the smell of it. Saltwhite crumbling mush of corpse: smell, taste
+like raw white turnips.
+
+The gates glimmered in front: still open. Back to the world again.
+Enough of this place. Brings you a bit nearer every time. Last time I
+was here was Mrs Sinico's funeral. Poor papa too. The love that kills.
+And even scraping up the earth at night with a lantern like that case
+I read of to get at fresh buried females or even putrefied with running
+gravesores. Give you the creeps after a bit. I will appear to you after
+death. You will see my ghost after death. My ghost will haunt you after
+death. There is another world after death named hell. I do not like that
+other world she wrote. No more do I. Plenty to see and hear and feel
+yet. Feel live warm beings near you. Let them sleep in their maggoty
+beds. They are not going to get me this innings. Warm beds: warm
+fullblooded life.
+
+Martin Cunningham emerged from a sidepath, talking gravely.
+
+Solicitor, I think. I know his face. Menton, John Henry, solicitor,
+commissioner for oaths and affidavits. Dignam used to be in his office.
+Mat Dillon's long ago. Jolly Mat. Convivial evenings. Cold fowl, cigars,
+the Tantalus glasses. Heart of gold really. Yes, Menton. Got his rag out
+that evening on the bowlinggreen because I sailed inside him. Pure fluke
+of mine: the bias. Why he took such a rooted dislike to me. Hate
+at first sight. Molly and Floey Dillon linked under the lilactree,
+laughing. Fellow always like that, mortified if women are by.
+
+Got a dinge in the side of his hat. Carriage probably.
+
+--Excuse me, sir, Mr Bloom said beside them.
+
+They stopped.
+
+--Your hat is a little crushed, Mr Bloom said pointing.
+
+John Henry Menton stared at him for an instant without moving.
+
+--There, Martin Cunningham helped, pointing also. John Henry Menton took
+off his hat, bulged out the dinge and smoothed the nap with care on his
+coatsleeve. He clapped the hat on his head again.
+
+--It's all right now, Martin Cunningham said.
+
+John Henry Menton jerked his head down in acknowledgment.
+
+--Thank you, he said shortly.
+
+They walked on towards the gates. Mr Bloom, chapfallen, drew behind
+a few paces so as not to overhear. Martin laying down the law. Martin
+could wind a sappyhead like that round his little finger, without his
+seeing it.
+
+Oyster eyes. Never mind. Be sorry after perhaps when it dawns on him.
+Get the pull over him that way.
+
+Thank you. How grand we are this morning!
+
+
+IN THE HEART OF THE HIBERNIAN METROPOLIS
+
+
+Before Nelson's pillar trams slowed, shunted, changed trolley, started
+for Blackrock, Kingstown and Dalkey, Clonskea, Rathgar and Terenure,
+Palmerston Park and upper Rathmines, Sandymount Green, Rathmines,
+Ringsend and Sandymount Tower, Harold's Cross. The hoarse Dublin United
+Tramway Company's timekeeper bawled them off:
+
+--Rathgar and Terenure!
+
+--Come on, Sandymount Green!
+
+Right and left parallel clanging ringing a doubledecker and a singledeck
+moved from their railheads, swerved to the down line, glided parallel.
+
+--Start, Palmerston Park!
+
+
+THE WEARER OF THE CROWN
+
+
+Under the porch of the general post office shoeblacks called and
+polished. Parked in North Prince's street His Majesty's vermilion
+mailcars, bearing on their sides the royal initials, E. R., received
+loudly flung sacks of letters, postcards, lettercards, parcels, insured
+and paid, for local, provincial, British and overseas delivery.
+
+GENTLEMEN OF THE PRESS
+
+
+Grossbooted draymen rolled barrels dullthudding out of Prince's stores
+and bumped them up on the brewery float. On the brewery float bumped
+dullthudding barrels rolled by grossbooted draymen out of Prince's
+stores.
+
+--There it is, Red Murray said. Alexander Keyes.
+
+--Just cut it out, will you? Mr Bloom said, and I'll take it round to
+the _Telegraph_ office.
+
+The door of Ruttledge's office creaked again. Davy Stephens, minute in a
+large capecoat, a small felt hat crowning his ringlets, passed out with
+a roll of papers under his cape, a king's courier.
+
+Red Murray's long shears sliced out the advertisement from the newspaper
+in four clean strokes. Scissors and paste.
+
+--I'll go through the printingworks, Mr Bloom said, taking the cut
+square.
+
+--Of course, if he wants a par, Red Murray said earnestly, a pen behind
+his ear, we can do him one.
+
+--Right, Mr Bloom said with a nod. I'll rub that in.
+
+We.
+
+WILLIAM BRAYDEN, ESQUIRE, OF OAKLANDS, SANDYMOUNT
+
+
+Red Murray touched Mr Bloom's arm with the shears and whispered:
+
+--Brayden.
+
+Mr Bloom turned and saw the liveried porter raise his lettered cap as a
+stately figure entered between the newsboards of the _Weekly Freeman
+and National Press_ and the _Freeman's Journal and National Press_.
+Dullthudding Guinness's barrels. It passed statelily up the staircase,
+steered by an umbrella, a solemn beardframed face. The broadcloth back
+ascended each step: back. All his brains are in the nape of his neck,
+Simon Dedalus says. Welts of flesh behind on him. Fat folds of neck,
+fat, neck, fat, neck.
+
+--Don't you think his face is like Our Saviour? Red Murray whispered.
+
+The door of Ruttledge's office whispered: ee: cree. They always build
+one door opposite another for the wind to. Way in. Way out.
+
+Our Saviour: beardframed oval face: talking in the dusk. Mary, Martha.
+Steered by an umbrella sword to the footlights: Mario the tenor.
+
+--Or like Mario, Mr Bloom said.
+
+--Yes, Red Murray agreed. But Mario was said to be the picture of Our
+Saviour.
+
+Jesusmario with rougy cheeks, doublet and spindle legs. Hand on his
+heart. In _Martha._
+
+ _Co-ome thou lost one,
+ Co-ome thou dear one!_
+
+THE CROZIER AND THE PEN
+
+
+--His grace phoned down twice this morning, Red Murray said gravely.
+
+They watched the knees, legs, boots vanish. Neck.
+
+A telegram boy stepped in nimbly, threw an envelope on the counter and
+stepped off posthaste with a word:
+
+_--Freeman!_
+
+Mr Bloom said slowly:
+
+--Well, he is one of our saviours also.
+
+A meek smile accompanied him as he lifted the counterflap, as he passed
+in through a sidedoor and along the warm dark stairs and passage,
+along the now reverberating boards. But will he save the circulation?
+Thumping. Thumping.
+
+He pushed in the glass swingdoor and entered, stepping over strewn
+packing paper. Through a lane of clanking drums he made his way towards
+Nannetti's reading closet.
+
+WITH UNFEIGNED REGRET IT IS WE ANNOUNCE THE DISSOLUTION OF A MOST
+RESPECTED DUBLIN BURGESS
+
+
+Hynes here too: account of the funeral probably. Thumping. Thump. This
+morning the remains of the late Mr Patrick Dignam. Machines. Smash a man
+to atoms if they got him caught. Rule the world today. His machineries
+are pegging away too. Like these, got out of hand: fermenting. Working
+away, tearing away. And that old grey rat tearing to get in.
+
+HOW A GREAT DAILY ORGAN IS TURNED OUT
+
+
+Mr Bloom halted behind the foreman's spare body, admiring a glossy
+crown.
+
+Strange he never saw his real country. Ireland my country. Member for
+College green. He boomed that workaday worker tack for all it was worth.
+It's the ads and side features sell a weekly, not the stale news in the
+official gazette. Queen Anne is dead. Published by authority in the year
+one thousand and. Demesne situate in the townland of Rosenallis, barony
+of Tinnahinch. To all whom it may concern schedule pursuant to statute
+showing return of number of mules and jennets exported from Ballina.
+Nature notes. Cartoons. Phil Blake's weekly Pat and Bull story. Uncle
+Toby's page for tiny tots. Country bumpkin's queries. Dear Mr Editor,
+what is a good cure for flatulence? I'd like that part. Learn a lot
+teaching others. The personal note. M. A. P. Mainly all pictures.
+Shapely bathers on golden strand. World's biggest balloon. Double
+marriage of sisters celebrated. Two bridegrooms laughing heartily at
+each other. Cuprani too, printer. More Irish than the Irish.
+
+The machines clanked in threefour time. Thump, thump, thump. Now if he
+got paralysed there and no-one knew how to stop them they'd clank on and
+on the same, print it over and over and up and back. Monkeydoodle the
+whole thing. Want a cool head.
+
+--Well, get it into the evening edition, councillor, Hynes said.
+
+Soon be calling him my lord mayor. Long John is backing him, they say.
+
+The foreman, without answering, scribbled press on a corner of the sheet
+and made a sign to a typesetter. He handed the sheet silently over the
+dirty glass screen.
+
+--Right: thanks, Hynes said moving off.
+
+Mr Bloom stood in his way.
+
+--If you want to draw the cashier is just going to lunch, he said,
+pointing backward with his thumb.
+
+--Did you? Hynes asked.
+
+--Mm, Mr Bloom said. Look sharp and you'll catch him.
+
+--Thanks, old man, Hynes said. I'll tap him too.
+
+He hurried on eagerly towards the _Freeman's Journal_.
+
+Three bob I lent him in Meagher's. Three weeks. Third hint.
+
+WE SEE THE CANVASSER AT WORK
+
+
+Mr Bloom laid his cutting on Mr Nannetti's desk.
+
+--Excuse me, councillor, he said. This ad, you see. Keyes, you remember?
+
+Mr Nannetti considered the cutting awhile and nodded.
+
+--He wants it in for July, Mr Bloom said.
+
+The foreman moved his pencil towards it.
+
+--But wait, Mr Bloom said. He wants it changed. Keyes, you see. He wants
+two keys at the top.
+
+Hell of a racket they make. He doesn't hear it. Nannan. Iron nerves.
+Maybe he understands what I.
+
+The foreman turned round to hear patiently and, lifting an elbow, began
+to scratch slowly in the armpit of his alpaca jacket.
+
+--Like that, Mr Bloom said, crossing his forefingers at the top.
+
+Let him take that in first.
+
+Mr Bloom, glancing sideways up from the cross he had made, saw the
+foreman's sallow face, think he has a touch of jaundice, and beyond the
+obedient reels feeding in huge webs of paper. Clank it. Clank it. Miles
+of it unreeled. What becomes of it after? O, wrap up meat, parcels:
+various uses, thousand and one things.
+
+Slipping his words deftly into the pauses of the clanking he drew
+swiftly on the scarred woodwork.
+
+HOUSE OF KEY(E)S
+
+
+--Like that, see. Two crossed keys here. A circle. Then here the name.
+Alexander Keyes, tea, wine and spirit merchant. So on.
+
+Better not teach him his own business.
+
+--You know yourself, councillor, just what he wants. Then round the top
+in leaded: the house of keys. You see? Do you think that's a good idea?
+
+The foreman moved his scratching hand to his lower ribs and scratched
+there quietly.
+
+--The idea, Mr Bloom said, is the house of keys. You know, councillor,
+the Manx parliament. Innuendo of home rule. Tourists, you know, from the
+isle of Man. Catches the eye, you see. Can you do that?
+
+I could ask him perhaps about how to pronounce that _voglio._ But then
+if he didn't know only make it awkward for him. Better not.
+
+--We can do that, the foreman said. Have you the design?
+
+--I can get it, Mr Bloom said. It was in a Kilkenny paper. He has a
+house there too. I'll just run out and ask him. Well, you can do that
+and just a little par calling attention. You know the usual. Highclass
+licensed premises. Longfelt want. So on.
+
+The foreman thought for an instant.
+
+--We can do that, he said. Let him give us a three months' renewal.
+
+A typesetter brought him a limp galleypage. He began to check it
+silently. Mr Bloom stood by, hearing the loud throbs of cranks, watching
+the silent typesetters at their cases.
+
+ORTHOGRAPHICAL
+
+
+Want to be sure of his spelling. Proof fever. Martin Cunningham forgot
+to give us his spellingbee conundrum this morning. It is amusing to view
+the unpar one ar alleled embarra two ars is it? double ess ment of a
+harassed pedlar while gauging au the symmetry with a y of a peeled pear
+under a cemetery wall. Silly, isn't it? Cemetery put in of course on
+account of the symmetry.
+
+I should have said when he clapped on his topper. Thank you. I ought
+to have said something about an old hat or something. No. I could have
+said. Looks as good as new now. See his phiz then.
+
+Sllt. The nethermost deck of the first machine jogged forward its
+flyboard with sllt the first batch of quirefolded papers. Sllt. Almost
+human the way it sllt to call attention. Doing its level best to speak.
+That door too sllt creaking, asking to be shut. Everything speaks in its
+own way. Sllt.
+
+NOTED CHURCHMAN AN OCCASIONAL CONTRIBUTOR
+
+
+The foreman handed back the galleypage suddenly, saying:
+
+--Wait. Where's the archbishop's letter? It's to be repeated in the
+_Telegraph._ Where's what's his name?
+
+He looked about him round his loud unanswering machines.
+
+--Monks, sir? a voice asked from the castingbox.
+
+--Ay. Where's Monks?
+
+--Monks!
+
+Mr Bloom took up his cutting. Time to get out.
+
+--Then I'll get the design, Mr Nannetti, he said, and you'll give it a
+good place I know.
+
+--Monks!
+
+--Yes, sir.
+
+Three months' renewal. Want to get some wind off my chest first. Try it
+anyhow. Rub in August: good idea: horseshow month. Ballsbridge. Tourists
+over for the show.
+
+A DAYFATHER
+
+
+He walked on through the caseroom passing an old man, bowed, spectacled,
+aproned. Old Monks, the dayfather. Queer lot of stuff he must have put
+through his hands in his time: obituary notices, pubs' ads, speeches,
+divorce suits, found drowned. Nearing the end of his tether now. Sober
+serious man with a bit in the savingsbank I'd say. Wife a good cook and
+washer. Daughter working the machine in the parlour. Plain Jane, no damn
+nonsense. AND IT WAS THE FEAST OF THE PASSOVER
+
+
+He stayed in his walk to watch a typesetter neatly distributing type.
+Reads it backwards first. Quickly he does it. Must require some practice
+that. mangiD kcirtaP. Poor papa with his hagadah book, reading backwards
+with his finger to me. Pessach. Next year in Jerusalem. Dear, O dear!
+All that long business about that brought us out of the land of Egypt
+and into the house of bondage _Alleluia. Shema Israel Adonai Elohenu_.
+No, that's the other. Then the twelve brothers, Jacob's sons. And then
+the lamb and the cat and the dog and the stick and the water and the
+butcher. And then the angel of death kills the butcher and he kills the
+ox and the dog kills the cat. Sounds a bit silly till you come to look
+into it well. Justice it means but it's everybody eating everyone else.
+That's what life is after all. How quickly he does that job. Practice
+makes perfect. Seems to see with his fingers.
+
+Mr Bloom passed on out of the clanking noises through the gallery on to
+the landing. Now am I going to tram it out all the way and then catch
+him out perhaps. Better phone him up first. Number? Yes. Same as
+Citron's house. Twentyeight. Twentyeight double four.
+
+ONLY ONCE MORE THAT SOAP
+
+
+He went down the house staircase. Who the deuce scrawled all over those
+walls with matches? Looks as if they did it for a bet. Heavy greasy
+smell there always is in those works. Lukewarm glue in Thom's next door
+when I was there.
+
+He took out his handkerchief to dab his nose. Citronlemon? Ah, the soap
+I put there. Lose it out of that pocket. Putting back his handkerchief
+he took out the soap and stowed it away, buttoned, into the hip pocket
+of his trousers.
+
+What perfume does your wife use? I could go home still: tram: something
+I forgot. Just to see: before: dressing. No. Here. No.
+
+A sudden screech of laughter came from the _Evening Telegraph_ office.
+Know who that is. What's up? Pop in a minute to phone. Ned Lambert it
+is.
+
+He entered softly.
+
+ERIN, GREEN GEM OF THE SILVER SEA
+
+
+--The ghost walks, professor MacHugh murmured softly, biscuitfully to
+the dusty windowpane.
+
+Mr Dedalus, staring from the empty fireplace at Ned Lambert's quizzing
+face, asked of it sourly:
+
+--Agonising Christ, wouldn't it give you a heartburn on your arse?
+
+Ned Lambert, seated on the table, read on:
+
+--_Or again, note the meanderings of some purling rill as it babbles
+on its way, tho' quarrelling with the stony obstacles, to the tumbling
+waters of Neptune's blue domain, 'mid mossy banks, fanned by gentlest
+zephyrs, played on by the glorious sunlight or 'neath the shadows cast
+o'er its pensive bosom by the overarching leafage of the giants of
+the forest_. What about that, Simon? he asked over the fringe of his
+newspaper. How's that for high?
+
+--Changing his drink, Mr Dedalus said.
+
+Ned Lambert, laughing, struck the newspaper on his knees, repeating:
+
+--_The pensive bosom and the overarsing leafage_. O boys! O boys!
+
+--And Xenophon looked upon Marathon, Mr Dedalus said, looking again on
+the fireplace and to the window, and Marathon looked on the sea.
+
+--That will do, professor MacHugh cried from the window. I don't want to
+hear any more of the stuff.
+
+He ate off the crescent of water biscuit he had been nibbling and,
+hungered, made ready to nibble the biscuit in his other hand.
+
+High falutin stuff. Bladderbags. Ned Lambert is taking a day off I see.
+Rather upsets a man's day, a funeral does. He has influence they
+say. Old Chatterton, the vicechancellor, is his granduncle or his
+greatgranduncle. Close on ninety they say. Subleader for his death
+written this long time perhaps. Living to spite them. Might go first
+himself. Johnny, make room for your uncle. The right honourable Hedges
+Eyre Chatterton. Daresay he writes him an odd shaky cheque or two on
+gale days. Windfall when he kicks out. Alleluia.
+
+--Just another spasm, Ned Lambert said.
+
+--What is it? Mr Bloom asked.
+
+--A recently discovered fragment of Cicero, professor MacHugh answered
+with pomp of tone. _Our lovely land_. SHORT BUT TO THE POINT
+
+
+--Whose land? Mr Bloom said simply.
+
+--Most pertinent question, the professor said between his chews. With an
+accent on the whose.
+
+--Dan Dawson's land Mr Dedalus said.
+
+--Is it his speech last night? Mr Bloom asked.
+
+Ned Lambert nodded.
+
+--But listen to this, he said.
+
+The doorknob hit Mr Bloom in the small of the back as the door was
+pushed in.
+
+--Excuse me, J. J. O'Molloy said, entering.
+
+Mr Bloom moved nimbly aside.
+
+--I beg yours, he said.
+
+--Good day, Jack.
+
+--Come in. Come in.
+
+--Good day.
+
+--How are you, Dedalus?
+
+--Well. And yourself?
+
+J. J. O'Molloy shook his head.
+
+SAD
+
+
+Cleverest fellow at the junior bar he used to be. Decline, poor chap.
+That hectic flush spells finis for a man. Touch and go with him. What's
+in the wind, I wonder. Money worry.
+
+--_Or again if we but climb the serried mountain peaks._
+
+--You're looking extra.
+
+--Is the editor to be seen? J. J. O'Molloy asked, looking towards the
+inner door.
+
+--Very much so, professor MacHugh said. To be seen and heard. He's in
+his sanctum with Lenehan.
+
+J. J. O'Molloy strolled to the sloping desk and began to turn back the
+pink pages of the file.
+
+Practice dwindling. A mighthavebeen. Losing heart. Gambling. Debts of
+honour. Reaping the whirlwind. Used to get good retainers from D. and T.
+Fitzgerald. Their wigs to show the grey matter. Brains on their sleeve
+like the statue in Glasnevin. Believe he does some literary work for the
+_Express_ with Gabriel Conroy. Wellread fellow. Myles Crawford began
+on the _Independent._ Funny the way those newspaper men veer about when
+they get wind of a new opening. Weathercocks. Hot and cold in the same
+breath. Wouldn't know which to believe. One story good till you hear
+the next. Go for one another baldheaded in the papers and then all blows
+over. Hail fellow well met the next moment.
+
+--Ah, listen to this for God' sake, Ned Lambert pleaded. _Or again if we
+but climb the serried mountain peaks..._
+
+--Bombast! the professor broke in testily. Enough of the inflated
+windbag!
+
+--_Peaks_, Ned Lambert went on, _towering high on high, to bathe our
+souls, as it were..._
+
+--Bathe his lips, Mr Dedalus said. Blessed and eternal God! Yes? Is he
+taking anything for it?
+
+_--As 'twere, in the peerless panorama of Ireland's portfolio,
+unmatched, despite their wellpraised prototypes in other vaunted prize
+regions, for very beauty, of bosky grove and undulating plain and
+luscious pastureland of vernal green, steeped in the transcendent
+translucent glow of our mild mysterious Irish twilight..._
+
+HIS NATIVE DORIC
+
+
+--The moon, professor MacHugh said. He forgot Hamlet.
+
+_--That mantles the vista far and wide and wait till the glowing orb of
+the moon shine forth to irradiate her silver effulgence..._
+
+--O! Mr Dedalus cried, giving vent to a hopeless groan. Shite and
+onions! That'll do, Ned. Life is too short.
+
+He took off his silk hat and, blowing out impatiently his bushy
+moustache, welshcombed his hair with raking fingers.
+
+Ned Lambert tossed the newspaper aside, chuckling with delight. An
+instant after a hoarse bark of laughter burst over professor MacHugh's
+unshaven blackspectacled face.
+
+--Doughy Daw! he cried.
+
+WHAT WETHERUP SAID
+
+
+All very fine to jeer at it now in cold print but it goes down like hot
+cake that stuff. He was in the bakery line too, wasn't he? Why they call
+him Doughy Daw. Feathered his nest well anyhow. Daughter engaged to that
+chap in the inland revenue office with the motor. Hooked that nicely.
+Entertainments. Open house. Big blowout. Wetherup always said that. Get
+a grip of them by the stomach.
+
+The inner door was opened violently and a scarlet beaked face, crested
+by a comb of feathery hair, thrust itself in. The bold blue eyes stared
+about them and the harsh voice asked:
+
+--What is it?
+
+--And here comes the sham squire himself! professor MacHugh said
+grandly.
+
+--Getonouthat, you bloody old pedagogue! the editor said in recognition.
+
+--Come, Ned, Mr Dedalus said, putting on his hat. I must get a drink
+after that.
+
+--Drink! the editor cried. No drinks served before mass.
+
+--Quite right too, Mr Dedalus said, going out. Come on, Ned.
+
+Ned Lambert sidled down from the table. The editor's blue eyes roved
+towards Mr Bloom's face, shadowed by a smile.
+
+--Will you join us, Myles? Ned Lambert asked.
+
+MEMORABLE BATTLES RECALLED
+
+
+--North Cork militia! the editor cried, striding to the mantelpiece. We
+won every time! North Cork and Spanish officers!
+
+--Where was that, Myles? Ned Lambert asked with a reflective glance at
+his toecaps.
+
+--In Ohio! the editor shouted.
+
+--So it was, begad, Ned Lambert agreed.
+
+Passing out he whispered to J. J. O'Molloy:
+
+--Incipient jigs. Sad case.
+
+--Ohio! the editor crowed in high treble from his uplifted scarlet face.
+My Ohio!
+
+--A perfect cretic! the professor said. Long, short and long.
+
+O, HARP EOLIAN!
+
+
+He took a reel of dental floss from his waistcoat pocket and, breaking
+off a piece, twanged it smartly between two and two of his resonant
+unwashed teeth.
+
+--Bingbang, bangbang.
+
+Mr Bloom, seeing the coast clear, made for the inner door.
+
+--Just a moment, Mr Crawford, he said. I just want to phone about an ad.
+
+He went in.
+
+--What about that leader this evening? professor MacHugh asked, coming
+to the editor and laying a firm hand on his shoulder.
+
+--That'll be all right, Myles Crawford said more calmly. Never you fret.
+Hello, Jack. That's all right.
+
+--Good day, Myles, J. J. O'Molloy said, letting the pages he held slip
+limply back on the file. Is that Canada swindle case on today?
+
+The telephone whirred inside.
+
+--Twentyeight... No, twenty... Double four... Yes.
+
+SPOT THE WINNER
+
+
+Lenehan came out of the inner office with SPORT'S tissues.
+
+--Who wants a dead cert for the Gold cup? he asked. Sceptre with O.
+Madden up.
+
+He tossed the tissues on to the table.
+
+Screams of newsboys barefoot in the hall rushed near and the door was
+flung open.
+
+--Hush, Lenehan said. I hear feetstoops.
+
+Professor MacHugh strode across the room and seized the cringing urchin
+by the collar as the others scampered out of the hall and down the
+steps. The tissues rustled up in the draught, floated softly in the air
+blue scrawls and under the table came to earth.
+
+--It wasn't me, sir. It was the big fellow shoved me, sir.
+
+--Throw him out and shut the door, the editor said. There's a hurricane
+blowing.
+
+Lenehan began to paw the tissues up from the floor, grunting as he
+stooped twice.
+
+--Waiting for the racing special, sir, the newsboy said. It was Pat
+Farrell shoved me, sir.
+
+He pointed to two faces peering in round the doorframe.
+
+--Him, sir.
+
+--Out of this with you, professor MacHugh said gruffly.
+
+He hustled the boy out and banged the door to.
+
+J. J. O'Molloy turned the files crackingly over, murmuring, seeking:
+
+--Continued on page six, column four.
+
+--Yes, _Evening Telegraph_ here, Mr Bloom phoned from the inner office.
+Is the boss...? Yes, _Telegraph_... To where? Aha! Which auction rooms
+?... Aha! I see... Right. I'll catch him.
+
+A COLLISION ENSUES
+
+
+The bell whirred again as he rang off. He came in quickly and bumped
+against Lenehan who was struggling up with the second tissue.
+
+--_Pardon, monsieur_, Lenehan said, clutching him for an instant and
+making a grimace.
+
+--My fault, Mr Bloom said, suffering his grip. Are you hurt? I'm in a
+hurry.
+
+--Knee, Lenehan said.
+
+He made a comic face and whined, rubbing his knee:
+
+--The accumulation of the _anno Domini_.
+
+--Sorry, Mr Bloom said.
+
+He went to the door and, holding it ajar, paused. J. J. O'Molloy slapped
+the heavy pages over. The noise of two shrill voices, a mouthorgan,
+echoed in the bare hallway from the newsboys squatted on the doorsteps:
+
+ _--We are the boys of Wexford
+ Who fought with heart and hand._
+
+EXIT BLOOM
+
+
+--I'm just running round to Bachelor's walk, Mr Bloom said, about this
+ad of Keyes's. Want to fix it up. They tell me he's round there in
+Dillon's.
+
+He looked indecisively for a moment at their faces. The editor who,
+leaning against the mantelshelf, had propped his head on his hand,
+suddenly stretched forth an arm amply.
+
+--Begone! he said. The world is before you.
+
+--Back in no time, Mr Bloom said, hurrying out.
+
+J. J. O'Molloy took the tissues from Lenehan's hand and read them,
+blowing them apart gently, without comment.
+
+--He'll get that advertisement, the professor said, staring through his
+blackrimmed spectacles over the crossblind. Look at the young scamps
+after him.
+
+--Show. Where? Lenehan cried, running to the window.
+
+A STREET CORTEGE
+
+
+Both smiled over the crossblind at the file of capering newsboys in Mr
+Bloom's wake, the last zigzagging white on the breeze a mocking kite, a
+tail of white bowknots.
+
+--Look at the young guttersnipe behind him hue and cry, Lenehan said,
+and you'll kick. O, my rib risible! Taking off his flat spaugs and the
+walk. Small nines. Steal upon larks.
+
+He began to mazurka in swift caricature across the floor on sliding
+feet past the fireplace to J. J. O'Molloy who placed the tissues in his
+receiving hands.
+
+--What's that? Myles Crawford said with a start. Where are the other two
+gone?
+
+--Who? the professor said, turning. They're gone round to the Oval for a
+drink. Paddy Hooper is there with Jack Hall. Came over last night.
+
+--Come on then, Myles Crawford said. Where's my hat?
+
+He walked jerkily into the office behind, parting the vent of his
+jacket, jingling his keys in his back pocket. They jingled then in the
+air and against the wood as he locked his desk drawer.
+
+--He's pretty well on, professor MacHugh said in a low voice.
+
+--Seems to be, J. J. O'Molloy said, taking out a cigarettecase in
+murmuring meditation, but it is not always as it seems. Who has the most
+matches?
+
+THE CALUMET OF PEACE
+
+
+He offered a cigarette to the professor and took one himself. Lenehan
+promptly struck a match for them and lit their cigarettes in turn. J. J.
+O'Molloy opened his case again and offered it.
+
+--_Thanky vous_, Lenehan said, helping himself.
+
+The editor came from the inner office, a straw hat awry on his brow. He
+declaimed in song, pointing sternly at professor MacHugh:
+
+_--'Twas rank and fame that tempted thee, 'Twas empire charmed thy
+heart._
+
+The professor grinned, locking his long lips.
+
+--Eh? You bloody old Roman empire? Myles Crawford said.
+
+He took a cigarette from the open case. Lenehan, lighting it for him
+with quick grace, said:
+
+--Silence for my brandnew riddle!
+
+--_Imperium romanum_, J. J. O'Molloy said gently. It sounds nobler than
+British or Brixton. The word reminds one somehow of fat in the fire.
+
+Myles Crawford blew his first puff violently towards the ceiling.
+
+--That's it, he said. We are the fat. You and I are the fat in the fire.
+We haven't got the chance of a snowball in hell.
+
+THE GRANDEUR THAT WAS ROME
+
+
+--Wait a moment, professor MacHugh said, raising two quiet claws. We
+mustn't be led away by words, by sounds of words. We think of Rome,
+imperial, imperious, imperative.
+
+He extended elocutionary arms from frayed stained shirtcuffs, pausing:
+
+--What was their civilisation? Vast, I allow: but vile. Cloacae: sewers.
+The Jews in the wilderness and on the mountaintop said: _It is meet
+to be here. Let us build an altar to Jehovah_. The Roman, like the
+Englishman who follows in his footsteps, brought to every new shore on
+which he set his foot (on our shore he never set it) only his cloacal
+obsession. He gazed about him in his toga and he said: _It is meet to be
+here. Let us construct a watercloset._
+
+--Which they accordingly did do, Lenehan said. Our old ancient
+ancestors, as we read in the first chapter of Guinness's, were partial
+to the running stream.
+
+--They were nature's gentlemen, J. J. O'Molloy murmured. But we have
+also Roman law.
+
+--And Pontius Pilate is its prophet, professor MacHugh responded.
+
+--Do you know that story about chief baron Palles? J. J. O'Molloy asked.
+It was at the royal university dinner. Everything was going swimmingly
+...
+
+--First my riddle, Lenehan said. Are you ready?
+
+Mr O'Madden Burke, tall in copious grey of Donegal tweed, came in from
+the hallway. Stephen Dedalus, behind him, uncovered as he entered.
+
+--_Entrez, mes enfants!_ Lenehan cried.
+
+--I escort a suppliant, Mr O'Madden Burke said melodiously. Youth led by
+Experience visits Notoriety.
+
+--How do you do? the editor said, holding out a hand. Come in. Your
+governor is just gone.???
+
+
+Lenehan said to all:
+
+--Silence! What opera resembles a railwayline? Reflect, ponder,
+excogitate, reply.
+
+Stephen handed over the typed sheets, pointing to the title and
+signature.
+
+--Who? the editor asked.
+
+Bit torn off.
+
+--Mr Garrett Deasy, Stephen said.
+
+--That old pelters, the editor said. Who tore it? Was he short taken?
+
+ _On swift sail flaming
+ From storm and south
+ He comes, pale vampire,
+ Mouth to my mouth._
+
+--Good day, Stephen, the professor said, coming to peer over their
+shoulders. Foot and mouth? Are you turned...?
+
+Bullockbefriending bard.
+
+SHINDY IN WELLKNOWN RESTAURANT
+
+
+--Good day, sir, Stephen answered blushing. The letter is not mine. Mr
+Garrett Deasy asked me to...
+
+--O, I know him, Myles Crawford said, and I knew his wife too. The
+bloodiest old tartar God ever made. By Jesus, she had the foot and mouth
+disease and no mistake! The night she threw the soup in the waiter's
+face in the Star and Garter. Oho!
+
+A woman brought sin into the world. For Helen, the runaway wife of
+Menelaus, ten years the Greeks. O'Rourke, prince of Breffni.
+
+--Is he a widower? Stephen asked.
+
+--Ay, a grass one, Myles Crawford said, his eye running down the
+typescript. Emperor's horses. Habsburg. An Irishman saved his life on
+the ramparts of Vienna. Don't you forget! Maximilian Karl O'Donnell,
+graf von Tirconnell in Ireland. Sent his heir over to make the king
+an Austrian fieldmarshal now. Going to be trouble there one day. Wild
+geese. O yes, every time. Don't you forget that!
+
+--The moot point is did he forget it, J. J. O'Molloy said quietly,
+turning a horseshoe paperweight. Saving princes is a thank you job.
+
+Professor MacHugh turned on him.
+
+--And if not? he said.
+
+--I'll tell you how it was, Myles Crawford began. A Hungarian it was one
+day... LOST CAUSES
+
+NOBLE MARQUESS MENTIONED
+
+
+--We were always loyal to lost causes, the professor said. Success for
+us is the death of the intellect and of the imagination. We were never
+loyal to the successful. We serve them. I teach the blatant Latin
+language. I speak the tongue of a race the acme of whose mentality is
+the maxim: time is money. Material domination. _Dominus!_ Lord! Where is
+the spirituality? Lord Jesus? Lord Salisbury? A sofa in a westend club.
+But the Greek!
+
+KYRIE ELEISON!
+
+
+A smile of light brightened his darkrimmed eyes, lengthened his long
+lips.
+
+--The Greek! he said again. _Kyrios!_ Shining word! The vowels the
+Semite and the Saxon know not. _Kyrie!_ The radiance of the intellect.
+I ought to profess Greek, the language of the mind. _Kyrie eleison!_ The
+closetmaker and the cloacamaker will never be lords of our spirit. We
+are liege subjects of the catholic chivalry of Europe that foundered at
+Trafalgar and of the empire of the spirit, not an _imperium,_ that
+went under with the Athenian fleets at Aegospotami. Yes, yes. They went
+under. Pyrrhus, misled by an oracle, made a last attempt to retrieve the
+fortunes of Greece. Loyal to a lost cause.
+
+He strode away from them towards the window.
+
+--They went forth to battle, Mr O'Madden Burke said greyly, but they
+always fell.
+
+--Boohoo! Lenehan wept with a little noise. Owing to a brick received in
+the latter half of the _matinée_. Poor, poor, poor Pyrrhus!
+
+He whispered then near Stephen's ear:
+
+LENEHAN'S LIMERICK
+
+
+ _There's a ponderous pundit MacHugh
+ Who wears goggles of ebony hue.
+ As he mostly sees double
+ To wear them why trouble?
+ I can't see the Joe Miller. Can you?_
+
+In mourning for Sallust, Mulligan says. Whose mother is beastly dead.
+
+Myles Crawford crammed the sheets into a sidepocket.
+
+--That'll be all right, he said. I'll read the rest after. That'll be
+all right.
+
+Lenehan extended his hands in protest.
+
+--But my riddle! he said. What opera is like a railwayline?
+
+--Opera? Mr O'Madden Burke's sphinx face reriddled.
+
+Lenehan announced gladly:
+
+--_The Rose of Castile_. See the wheeze? Rows of cast steel. Gee!
+
+He poked Mr O'Madden Burke mildly in the spleen. Mr O'Madden Burke fell
+back with grace on his umbrella, feigning a gasp.
+
+--Help! he sighed. I feel a strong weakness.
+
+Lenehan, rising to tiptoe, fanned his face rapidly with the rustling
+tissues.
+
+The professor, returning by way of the files, swept his hand across
+Stephen's and Mr O'Madden Burke's loose ties.
+
+--Paris, past and present, he said. You look like communards.
+
+--Like fellows who had blown up the Bastile, J. J. O'Molloy said in
+quiet mockery. Or was it you shot the lord lieutenant of Finland between
+you? You look as though you had done the deed. General Bobrikoff.
+
+OMNIUM GATHERUM
+
+
+--We were only thinking about it, Stephen said.
+
+--All the talents, Myles Crawford said. Law, the classics...
+
+--The turf, Lenehan put in.
+
+--Literature, the press.
+
+--If Bloom were here, the professor said. The gentle art of
+advertisement.
+
+--And Madam Bloom, Mr O'Madden Burke added. The vocal muse. Dublin's
+prime favourite.
+
+Lenehan gave a loud cough.
+
+--Ahem! he said very softly. O, for a fresh of breath air! I caught a
+cold in the park. The gate was open.
+
+YOU CAN DO IT!
+
+
+The editor laid a nervous hand on Stephen's shoulder.
+
+--I want you to write something for me, he said. Something with a bite
+in it. You can do it. I see it in your face. _In the lexicon of youth_
+...
+
+See it in your face. See it in your eye. Lazy idle little schemer.
+
+--Foot and mouth disease! the editor cried in scornful invective. Great
+nationalist meeting in Borris-in-Ossory. All balls! Bulldosing the
+public! Give them something with a bite in it. Put us all into it, damn
+its soul. Father, Son and Holy Ghost and Jakes M'Carthy.
+
+--We can all supply mental pabulum, Mr O'Madden Burke said.
+
+Stephen raised his eyes to the bold unheeding stare.
+
+--He wants you for the pressgang, J. J. O'Molloy said.
+
+THE GREAT GALLAHER
+
+
+--You can do it, Myles Crawford repeated, clenching his hand in
+emphasis. Wait a minute. We'll paralyse Europe as Ignatius Gallaher
+used to say when he was on the shaughraun, doing billiardmarking in the
+Clarence. Gallaher, that was a pressman for you. That was a pen. You
+know how he made his mark? I'll tell you. That was the smartest piece of
+journalism ever known. That was in eightyone, sixth of May, time of
+the invincibles, murder in the Phoenix park, before you were born, I
+suppose. I'll show you.
+
+He pushed past them to the files.
+
+--Look at here, he said turning. The _New York World_ cabled for a
+special. Remember that time?
+
+Professor MacHugh nodded.
+
+--_New York World_, the editor said, excitedly pushing back his straw
+hat. Where it took place. Tim Kelly, or Kavanagh I mean. Joe Brady and
+the rest of them. Where Skin-the-Goat drove the car. Whole route, see?
+
+--Skin-the-Goat, Mr O'Madden Burke said. Fitzharris. He has that
+cabman's shelter, they say, down there at Butt bridge. Holohan told me.
+You know Holohan?
+
+--Hop and carry one, is it? Myles Crawford said.
+
+--And poor Gumley is down there too, so he told me, minding stones for
+the corporation. A night watchman.
+
+Stephen turned in surprise.
+
+--Gumley? he said. You don't say so? A friend of my father's, is it?
+
+--Never mind Gumley, Myles Crawford cried angrily. Let Gumley mind
+the stones, see they don't run away. Look at here. What did Ignatius
+Gallaher do? I'll tell you. Inspiration of genius. Cabled right away.
+Have you _Weekly Freeman_ of 17 March? Right. Have you got that?
+
+He flung back pages of the files and stuck his finger on a point.
+
+--Take page four, advertisement for Bransome's coffee, let us say. Have
+you got that? Right.
+
+The telephone whirred.
+
+A DISTANT VOICE
+
+
+--I'll answer it, the professor said, going.
+
+--B is parkgate. Good.
+
+His finger leaped and struck point after point, vibrating.
+
+--T is viceregal lodge. C is where murder took place. K is Knockmaroon
+gate.
+
+The loose flesh of his neck shook like a cock's wattles. An illstarched
+dicky jutted up and with a rude gesture he thrust it back into his
+waistcoat.
+
+--Hello? _Evening Telegraph_ here... Hello?... Who's there?... Yes...
+Yes... Yes.
+
+--F to P is the route Skin-the-Goat drove the car for an alibi,
+Inchicore, Roundtown, Windy Arbour, Palmerston Park, Ranelagh. F.A.B.P.
+Got that? X is Davy's publichouse in upper Leeson street.
+
+The professor came to the inner door.
+
+--Bloom is at the telephone, he said.
+
+--Tell him go to hell, the editor said promptly. X is Davy's
+publichouse, see? CLEVER, VERY
+
+
+--Clever, Lenehan said. Very.
+
+--Gave it to them on a hot plate, Myles Crawford said, the whole bloody
+history.
+
+Nightmare from which you will never awake.
+
+--I saw it, the editor said proudly. I was present. Dick Adams, the
+besthearted bloody Corkman the Lord ever put the breath of life in, and
+myself.
+
+Lenehan bowed to a shape of air, announcing:
+
+--Madam, I'm Adam. And Able was I ere I saw Elba.
+
+--History! Myles Crawford cried. The Old Woman of Prince's street was
+there first. There was weeping and gnashing of teeth over that. Out of
+an advertisement. Gregor Grey made the design for it. That gave him the
+leg up. Then Paddy Hooper worked Tay Pay who took him on to the _Star._
+Now he's got in with Blumenfeld. That's press. That's talent. Pyatt! He
+was all their daddies!
+
+--The father of scare journalism, Lenehan confirmed, and the
+brother-in-law of Chris Callinan.
+
+--Hello?... Are you there?... Yes, he's here still. Come across
+yourself.
+
+--Where do you find a pressman like that now, eh? the editor cried. He
+flung the pages down.
+
+--Clamn dever, Lenehan said to Mr O'Madden Burke.
+
+--Very smart, Mr O'Madden Burke said.
+
+Professor MacHugh came from the inner office.
+
+--Talking about the invincibles, he said, did you see that some hawkers
+were up before the recorder?
+
+--O yes, J. J. O'Molloy said eagerly. Lady Dudley was walking home
+through the park to see all the trees that were blown down by that
+cyclone last year and thought she'd buy a view of Dublin. And it
+turned out to be a commemoration postcard of Joe Brady or Number One or
+Skin-the-Goat. Right outside the viceregal lodge, imagine!
+
+--They're only in the hook and eye department, Myles Crawford said.
+Psha! Press and the bar! Where have you a man now at the bar like those
+fellows, like Whiteside, like Isaac Butt, like silvertongued O'Hagan.
+Eh? Ah, bloody nonsense. Psha! Only in the halfpenny place.
+
+His mouth continued to twitch unspeaking in nervous curls of disdain.
+
+Would anyone wish that mouth for her kiss? How do you know? Why did you
+write it then?
+
+RHYMES AND REASONS
+
+
+Mouth, south. Is the mouth south someway? Or the south a mouth? Must be
+some. South, pout, out, shout, drouth. Rhymes: two men dressed the same,
+looking the same, two by two.
+
+ _........................ la tua pace
+ .................. che parlar ti piace
+ .... mentreché il vento, come fa, si tace._
+
+He saw them three by three, approaching girls, in green, in rose, in
+russet, entwining, _per l'aer perso_, in mauve, in purple, _quella
+pacifica oriafiamma_, gold of oriflamme, _di rimirar fe piu ardenti._
+But I old men, penitent, leadenfooted, underdarkneath the night: mouth
+south: tomb womb.
+
+--Speak up for yourself, Mr O'Madden Burke said.
+
+SUFFICIENT FOR THE DAY...
+
+
+J. J. O'Molloy, smiling palely, took up the gage.
+
+--My dear Myles, he said, flinging his cigarette aside, you put a false
+construction on my words. I hold no brief, as at present advised, for
+the third profession qua profession but your Cork legs are running away
+with you. Why not bring in Henry Grattan and Flood and Demosthenes and
+Edmund Burke? Ignatius Gallaher we all know and his Chapelizod boss,
+Harmsworth of the farthing press, and his American cousin of the Bowery
+guttersheet not to mention _Paddy Kelly's Budget, Pue's Occurrences_
+and our watchful friend _The Skibbereen Eagle_. Why bring in a master
+of forensic eloquence like Whiteside? Sufficient for the day is the
+newspaper thereof. LINKS WITH BYGONE DAYS OF YORE
+
+
+--Grattan and Flood wrote for this very paper, the editor cried in his
+face. Irish volunteers. Where are you now? Established 1763. Dr Lucas.
+Who have you now like John Philpot Curran? Psha!
+
+--Well, J. J. O'Molloy said, Bushe K.C., for example.
+
+--Bushe? the editor said. Well, yes: Bushe, yes. He has a strain of it
+in his blood. Kendal Bushe or I mean Seymour Bushe.
+
+--He would have been on the bench long ago, the professor said, only for
+... But no matter.
+
+J. J. O'Molloy turned to Stephen and said quietly and slowly:
+
+--One of the most polished periods I think I ever listened to in my life
+fell from the lips of Seymour Bushe. It was in that case of fratricide,
+the Childs murder case. Bushe defended him. _And in the porches of mine
+ear did pour._
+
+
+By the way how did he find that out? He died in his sleep. Or the other
+story, beast with two backs?
+
+--What was that? the professor asked.
+
+ITALIA, MAGISTRA ARTIUM
+
+
+--He spoke on the law of evidence, J. J. O'Molloy said, of Roman justice
+as contrasted with the earlier Mosaic code, the _lex talionis_. And he
+cited the Moses of Michelangelo in the vatican.
+
+--Ha.
+
+--A few wellchosen words, Lenehan prefaced. Silence!
+
+Pause. J. J. O'Molloy took out his cigarettecase.
+
+False lull. Something quite ordinary.
+
+Messenger took out his matchbox thoughtfully and lit his cigar.
+
+I have often thought since on looking back over that strange time that
+it was that small act, trivial in itself, that striking of that match,
+that determined the whole aftercourse of both our lives. A POLISHED
+PERIOD
+
+
+J. J. O'Molloy resumed, moulding his words:
+
+--He said of it: _that stony effigy in frozen music, horned and
+terrible, of the human form divine, that eternal symbol of wisdom and
+of prophecy which, if aught that the imagination or the hand of sculptor
+has wrought in marble of soultransfigured and of soultransfiguring
+deserves to live, deserves to live._
+
+His slim hand with a wave graced echo and fall.
+
+--Fine! Myles Crawford said at once.
+
+--The divine afflatus, Mr O'Madden Burke said.
+
+--You like it? J. J. O'Molloy asked Stephen.
+
+Stephen, his blood wooed by grace of language and gesture, blushed. He
+took a cigarette from the case. J. J. O'Molloy offered his case to Myles
+Crawford. Lenehan lit their cigarettes as before and took his trophy,
+saying:
+
+--Muchibus thankibus.
+
+A MAN OF HIGH MORALE
+
+
+--Professor Magennis was speaking to me about you, J. J. O'Molloy said
+to Stephen. What do you think really of that hermetic crowd, the opal
+hush poets: A. E. the mastermystic? That Blavatsky woman started it.
+She was a nice old bag of tricks. A. E. has been telling some yankee
+interviewer that you came to him in the small hours of the morning to
+ask him about planes of consciousness. Magennis thinks you must have
+been pulling A. E.'s leg. He is a man of the very highest morale,
+Magennis.
+
+Speaking about me. What did he say? What did he say? What did he say
+about me? Don't ask.
+
+--No, thanks, professor MacHugh said, waving the cigarettecase aside.
+Wait a moment. Let me say one thing. The finest display of oratory I
+ever heard was a speech made by John F Taylor at the college historical
+society. Mr Justice Fitzgibbon, the present lord justice of appeal, had
+spoken and the paper under debate was an essay (new for those days),
+advocating the revival of the Irish tongue.
+
+He turned towards Myles Crawford and said:
+
+--You know Gerald Fitzgibbon. Then you can imagine the style of his
+discourse.
+
+--He is sitting with Tim Healy, J. J. O'Molloy said, rumour has it, on
+the Trinity college estates commission.
+
+--He is sitting with a sweet thing, Myles Crawford said, in a child's
+frock. Go on. Well?
+
+--It was the speech, mark you, the professor said, of a finished orator,
+full of courteous haughtiness and pouring in chastened diction I will
+not say the vials of his wrath but pouring the proud man's contumely
+upon the new movement. It was then a new movement. We were weak,
+therefore worthless.
+
+He closed his long thin lips an instant but, eager to be on, raised
+an outspanned hand to his spectacles and, with trembling thumb and
+ringfinger touching lightly the black rims, steadied them to a new
+focus.
+
+IMPROMPTU
+
+
+In ferial tone he addressed J. J. O'Molloy:
+
+--Taylor had come there, you must know, from a sickbed. That he
+had prepared his speech I do not believe for there was not even one
+shorthandwriter in the hall. His dark lean face had a growth of shaggy
+beard round it. He wore a loose white silk neckcloth and altogether he
+looked (though he was not) a dying man.
+
+His gaze turned at once but slowly from J. J. O'Molloy's towards
+Stephen's face and then bent at once to the ground, seeking. His
+unglazed linen collar appeared behind his bent head, soiled by his
+withering hair. Still seeking, he said:
+
+--When Fitzgibbon's speech had ended John F Taylor rose to reply.
+Briefly, as well as I can bring them to mind, his words were these.
+
+He raised his head firmly. His eyes bethought themselves once more.
+Witless shellfish swam in the gross lenses to and fro, seeking outlet.
+
+He began:
+
+_--Mr Chairman, ladies and gentlemen: Great was my admiration in
+listening to the remarks addressed to the youth of Ireland a moment
+since by my learned friend. It seemed to me that I had been transported
+into a country far away from this country, into an age remote from
+this age, that I stood in ancient Egypt and that I was listening to the
+speech of some highpriest of that land addressed to the youthful Moses._
+
+His listeners held their cigarettes poised to hear, their smokes
+ascending in frail stalks that flowered with his speech. _And let our
+crooked smokes._ Noble words coming. Look out. Could you try your hand
+at it yourself?
+
+_--And it seemed to me that I heard the voice of that Egyptian
+highpriest raised in a tone of like haughtiness and like pride. I heard
+his words and their meaning was revealed to me._
+
+FROM THE FATHERS
+
+
+It was revealed to me that those things are good which yet are corrupted
+which neither if they were supremely good nor unless they were good
+could be corrupted. Ah, curse you! That's saint Augustine.
+
+_--Why will you jews not accept our culture, our religion and our
+language? You are a tribe of nomad herdsmen: we are a mighty people. You
+have no cities nor no wealth: our cities are hives of humanity and
+our galleys, trireme and quadrireme, laden with all manner merchandise
+furrow the waters of the known globe. You have but emerged from
+primitive conditions: we have a literature, a priesthood, an agelong
+history and a polity._
+
+Nile.
+
+Child, man, effigy.
+
+By the Nilebank the babemaries kneel, cradle of bulrushes: a man supple
+in combat: stonehorned, stonebearded, heart of stone.
+
+_--You pray to a local and obscure idol: our temples, majestic and
+mysterious, are the abodes of Isis and Osiris, of Horus and Ammon Ra.
+Yours serfdom, awe and humbleness: ours thunder and the seas. Israel
+is weak and few are her children: Egypt is an host and terrible are her
+arms. Vagrants and daylabourers are you called: the world trembles at
+our name._
+
+A dumb belch of hunger cleft his speech. He lifted his voice above it
+boldly:
+
+_--But, ladies and gentlemen, had the youthful Moses listened to and
+accepted that view of life, had he bowed his head and bowed his will
+and bowed his spirit before that arrogant admonition he would never have
+brought the chosen people out of their house of bondage, nor followed
+the pillar of the cloud by day. He would never have spoken with the
+Eternal amid lightnings on Sinai's mountaintop nor ever have come down
+with the light of inspiration shining in his countenance and bearing in
+his arms the tables of the law, graven in the language of the outlaw._
+
+He ceased and looked at them, enjoying a silence.
+
+OMINOUS--FOR HIM!
+
+J. J. O'Molloy said not without regret:
+
+--And yet he died without having entered the land of promise.
+
+--A sudden--at--the--moment--though--from--lingering--illness--often--
+previously--expectorated--demise, Lenehan added. And with a great future
+behind him.
+
+The troop of bare feet was heard rushing along the hallway and pattering
+up the staircase.
+
+--That is oratory, the professor said uncontradicted. Gone with the
+wind. Hosts at Mullaghmast and Tara of the kings. Miles of ears of
+porches. The tribune's words, howled and scattered to the four winds.
+A people sheltered within his voice. Dead noise. Akasic records of all
+that ever anywhere wherever was. Love and laud him: me no more.
+
+I have money.
+
+--Gentlemen, Stephen said. As the next motion on the agenda paper may I
+suggest that the house do now adjourn?
+
+--You take my breath away. It is not perchance a French compliment?
+Mr O'Madden Burke asked. 'Tis the hour, methinks, when the winejug,
+metaphorically speaking, is most grateful in Ye ancient hostelry.
+
+--That it be and hereby is resolutely resolved. All that are in favour
+say ay, Lenehan announced. The contrary no. I declare it carried. To
+which particular boosing shed?... My casting vote is: Mooney's!
+
+He led the way, admonishing:
+
+--We will sternly refuse to partake of strong waters, will we not? Yes,
+we will not. By no manner of means.
+
+Mr O'Madden Burke, following close, said with an ally's lunge of his
+umbrella:
+
+--Lay on, Macduff!
+
+--Chip of the old block! the editor cried, clapping Stephen on the
+shoulder. Let us go. Where are those blasted keys?
+
+He fumbled in his pocket pulling out the crushed typesheets.
+
+--Foot and mouth. I know. That'll be all right. That'll go in. Where are
+they? That's all right.
+
+He thrust the sheets back and went into the inner office. LET US HOPE
+
+
+J. J. O'Molloy, about to follow him in, said quietly to Stephen:
+
+--I hope you will live to see it published. Myles, one moment.
+
+He went into the inner office, closing the door behind him.
+
+--Come along, Stephen, the professor said. That is fine, isn't it? It
+has the prophetic vision. _Fuit Ilium!_ The sack of windy Troy. Kingdoms
+of this world. The masters of the Mediterranean are fellaheen today.
+
+The first newsboy came pattering down the stairs at their heels and
+rushed out into the street, yelling:
+
+--Racing special!
+
+Dublin. I have much, much to learn.
+
+They turned to the left along Abbey street.
+
+--I have a vision too, Stephen said.
+
+--Yes? the professor said, skipping to get into step. Crawford will
+follow.
+
+Another newsboy shot past them, yelling as he ran:
+
+--Racing special!
+
+DEAR DIRTY DUBLIN
+
+
+Dubliners.
+
+--Two Dublin vestals, Stephen said, elderly and pious, have lived fifty
+and fiftythree years in Fumbally's lane.
+
+--Where is that? the professor asked.
+
+--Off Blackpitts, Stephen said.
+
+Damp night reeking of hungry dough. Against the wall. Face glistering
+tallow under her fustian shawl. Frantic hearts. Akasic records. Quicker,
+darlint!
+
+On now. Dare it. Let there be life.
+
+--They want to see the views of Dublin from the top of Nelson's pillar.
+They save up three and tenpence in a red tin letterbox moneybox. They
+shake out the threepenny bits and sixpences and coax out the pennies
+with the blade of a knife. Two and three in silver and one and seven
+in coppers. They put on their bonnets and best clothes and take their
+umbrellas for fear it may come on to rain.
+
+--Wise virgins, professor MacHugh said.
+
+LIFE ON THE RAW
+
+
+--They buy one and fourpenceworth of brawn and four slices of panloaf at
+the north city diningrooms in Marlborough street from Miss Kate Collins,
+proprietress... They purchase four and twenty ripe plums from a girl
+at the foot of Nelson's pillar to take off the thirst of the brawn. They
+give two threepenny bits to the gentleman at the turnstile and begin
+to waddle slowly up the winding staircase, grunting, encouraging each
+other, afraid of the dark, panting, one asking the other have you the
+brawn, praising God and the Blessed Virgin, threatening to come down,
+peeping at the airslits. Glory be to God. They had no idea it was that
+high.
+
+Their names are Anne Kearns and Florence MacCabe. Anne Kearns has the
+lumbago for which she rubs on Lourdes water, given her by a lady who got
+a bottleful from a passionist father. Florence MacCabe takes a crubeen
+and a bottle of double X for supper every Saturday.
+
+--Antithesis, the professor said nodding twice. Vestal virgins. I can
+see them. What's keeping our friend?
+
+He turned.
+
+A bevy of scampering newsboys rushed down the steps, scattering in all
+directions, yelling, their white papers fluttering. Hard after them
+Myles Crawford appeared on the steps, his hat aureoling his scarlet
+face, talking with J. J. O'Molloy.
+
+--Come along, the professor cried, waving his arm.
+
+He set off again to walk by Stephen's side. RETURN OF BLOOM
+
+
+--Yes, he said. I see them.
+
+Mr Bloom, breathless, caught in a whirl of wild newsboys near the
+offices of the _Irish Catholic and Dublin Penny Journal_, called:
+
+--Mr Crawford! A moment!
+
+--_Telegraph_! Racing special!
+
+--What is it? Myles Crawford said, falling back a pace.
+
+A newsboy cried in Mr Bloom's face:
+
+--Terrible tragedy in Rathmines! A child bit by a bellows!
+
+INTERVIEW WITH THE EDITOR
+
+
+--Just this ad, Mr Bloom said, pushing through towards the steps,
+puffing, and taking the cutting from his pocket. I spoke with Mr Keyes
+just now. He'll give a renewal for two months, he says. After he'll
+see. But he wants a par to call attention in the _Telegraph_ too,
+the Saturday pink. And he wants it copied if it's not too late I told
+councillor Nannetti from the _Kilkenny People_. I can have access to
+it in the national library. House of keys, don't you see? His name is
+Keyes. It's a play on the name. But he practically promised he'd give
+the renewal. But he wants just a little puff. What will I tell him, Mr
+Crawford? K.M.A.
+
+
+--Will you tell him he can kiss my arse? Myles Crawford said throwing
+out his arm for emphasis. Tell him that straight from the stable.
+
+A bit nervy. Look out for squalls. All off for a drink. Arm in arm.
+Lenehan's yachting cap on the cadge beyond. Usual blarney. Wonder is
+that young Dedalus the moving spirit. Has a good pair of boots on him
+today. Last time I saw him he had his heels on view. Been walking in
+muck somewhere. Careless chap. What was he doing in Irishtown?
+
+--Well, Mr Bloom said, his eyes returning, if I can get the design I
+suppose it's worth a short par. He'd give the ad, I think. I'll tell him
+... K.M.R.I.A.
+
+
+--He can kiss my royal Irish arse, Myles Crawford cried loudly over his
+shoulder. Any time he likes, tell him.
+
+While Mr Bloom stood weighing the point and about to smile he strode on
+jerkily.
+
+RAISING THE WIND
+
+
+--_Nulla bona_, Jack, he said, raising his hand to his chin. I'm up to
+here. I've been through the hoop myself. I was looking for a fellow to
+back a bill for me no later than last week. Sorry, Jack. You must take
+the will for the deed. With a heart and a half if I could raise the wind
+anyhow.
+
+J. J. O'Molloy pulled a long face and walked on silently. They caught up
+on the others and walked abreast.
+
+--When they have eaten the brawn and the bread and wiped their twenty
+fingers in the paper the bread was wrapped in they go nearer to the
+railings.
+
+--Something for you, the professor explained to Myles Crawford. Two old
+Dublin women on the top of Nelson's pillar.
+
+SOME COLUMN!--THAT'S WHAT WADDLER ONE SAID
+
+
+--That's new, Myles Crawford said. That's copy. Out for the waxies
+Dargle. Two old trickies, what?
+
+--But they are afraid the pillar will fall, Stephen went on. They see
+the roofs and argue about where the different churches are: Rathmines'
+blue dome, Adam and Eve's, saint Laurence O'Toole's. But it makes them
+giddy to look so they pull up their skirts...
+
+THOSE SLIGHTLY RAMBUNCTIOUS FEMALES
+
+
+--Easy all, Myles Crawford said. No poetic licence. We're in the
+archdiocese here.
+
+--And settle down on their striped petticoats, peering up at the statue
+of the onehandled adulterer.
+
+--Onehandled adulterer! the professor cried. I like that. I see the
+idea. I see what you mean.
+
+DAMES DONATE DUBLIN'S CITS SPEEDPILLS VELOCITOUS AEROLITHS, BELIEF
+
+
+--It gives them a crick in their necks, Stephen said, and they are too
+tired to look up or down or to speak. They put the bag of plums between
+them and eat the plums out of it, one after another, wiping off with
+their handkerchiefs the plumjuice that dribbles out of their mouths and
+spitting the plumstones slowly out between the railings.
+
+He gave a sudden loud young laugh as a close. Lenehan and Mr O'Madden
+Burke, hearing, turned, beckoned and led on across towards Mooney's.
+
+--Finished? Myles Crawford said. So long as they do no worse.
+
+SOPHIST WALLOPS HAUGHTY HELEN SQUARE ON PROBOSCIS. SPARTANS GNASH
+MOLARS. ITHACANS VOW PEN IS CHAMP.
+
+
+--You remind me of Antisthenes, the professor said, a disciple of
+Gorgias, the sophist. It is said of him that none could tell if he were
+bitterer against others or against himself. He was the son of a noble
+and a bondwoman. And he wrote a book in which he took away the palm of
+beauty from Argive Helen and handed it to poor Penelope.
+
+Poor Penelope. Penelope Rich.
+
+They made ready to cross O'Connell street.
+
+HELLO THERE, CENTRAL!
+
+
+At various points along the eight lines tramcars with motionless
+trolleys stood in their tracks, bound for or from Rathmines,
+Rathfarnham, Blackrock, Kingstown and Dalkey, Sandymount Green, Ringsend
+and Sandymount Tower, Donnybrook, Palmerston Park and Upper Rathmines,
+all still, becalmed in short circuit. Hackney cars, cabs, delivery
+waggons, mailvans, private broughams, aerated mineral water floats with
+rattling crates of bottles, rattled, rolled, horsedrawn, rapidly.
+
+WHAT?--AND LIKEWISE--WHERE?
+
+
+--But what do you call it? Myles Crawford asked. Where did they get the
+plums?
+
+VIRGILIAN, SAYS PEDAGOGUE. SOPHOMORE PLUMPS FOR OLD MAN MOSES.
+
+
+--Call it, wait, the professor said, opening his long lips wide to
+reflect. Call it, let me see. Call it: _deus nobis haec otia fecit._
+
+--No, Stephen said. I call it _A Pisgah Sight of Palestine or the
+Parable of The Plums._
+
+--I see, the professor said.
+
+He laughed richly.
+
+--I see, he said again with new pleasure. Moses and the promised land.
+We gave him that idea, he added to J. J. O'Molloy.
+
+HORATIO IS CYNOSURE THIS FAIR JUNE DAY
+
+
+J. J. O'Molloy sent a weary sidelong glance towards the statue and held
+his peace.
+
+--I see, the professor said.
+
+He halted on sir John Gray's pavement island and peered aloft at Nelson
+through the meshes of his wry smile.
+
+DIMINISHED DIGITS PROVE TOO TITILLATING FOR FRISKY FRUMPS. ANNE WIMBLES,
+FLO WANGLES--YET CAN YOU BLAME THEM?
+
+
+--Onehandled adulterer, he said smiling grimly. That tickles me, I must
+say.
+
+--Tickled the old ones too, Myles Crawford said, if the God Almighty's
+truth was known.
+
+
+Pineapple rock, lemon platt, butter scotch. A sugarsticky girl
+shovelling scoopfuls of creams for a christian brother. Some school
+treat. Bad for their tummies. Lozenge and comfit manufacturer to His
+Majesty the King. God. Save. Our. Sitting on his throne sucking red
+jujubes white.
+
+
+A sombre Y.M.C.A. young man, watchful among the warm sweet fumes of
+Graham Lemon's, placed a throwaway in a hand of Mr Bloom.
+
+Heart to heart talks.
+
+Bloo... Me? No.
+
+Blood of the Lamb.
+
+His slow feet walked him riverward, reading. Are you saved? All are
+washed in the blood of the lamb. God wants blood victim. Birth, hymen,
+martyr, war, foundation of a building, sacrifice, kidney burntoffering,
+druids' altars. Elijah is coming. Dr John Alexander Dowie restorer of
+the church in Zion is coming.
+
+_Is coming! Is coming!! Is coming!!! All heartily welcome._ Paying game.
+Torry and Alexander last year. Polygamy. His wife will put the stopper
+on that. Where was that ad some Birmingham firm the luminous crucifix.
+Our Saviour. Wake up in the dead of night and see him on the wall,
+hanging. Pepper's ghost idea. Iron nails ran in.
+
+
+Phosphorus it must be done with. If you leave a bit of codfish for
+instance. I could see the bluey silver over it. Night I went down to the
+pantry in the kitchen. Don't like all the smells in it waiting to rush
+out. What was it she wanted? The Malaga raisins. Thinking of Spain.
+Before Rudy was born. The phosphorescence, that bluey greeny. Very good
+for the brain.
+
+From Butler's monument house corner he glanced along Bachelor's walk.
+Dedalus' daughter there still outside Dillon's auctionrooms. Must be
+selling off some old furniture. Knew her eyes at once from the father.
+Lobbing about waiting for him. Home always breaks up when the mother
+goes. Fifteen children he had. Birth every year almost. That's in their
+theology or the priest won't give the poor woman the confession, the
+absolution. Increase and multiply. Did you ever hear such an idea? Eat
+you out of house and home. No families themselves to feed. Living on the
+fat of the land. Their butteries and larders. I'd like to see them do
+the black fast Yom Kippur. Crossbuns. One meal and a collation for fear
+he'd collapse on the altar. A housekeeper of one of those fellows if you
+could pick it out of her. Never pick it out of her. Like getting l.s.d.
+out of him. Does himself well. No guests. All for number one. Watching
+his water. Bring your own bread and butter. His reverence: mum's the
+word.
+
+Good Lord, that poor child's dress is in flitters. Underfed she looks
+too. Potatoes and marge, marge and potatoes. It's after they feel it.
+Proof of the pudding. Undermines the constitution.
+
+As he set foot on O'Connell bridge a puffball of smoke plumed up from
+the parapet. Brewery barge with export stout. England. Sea air sours it,
+I heard. Be interesting some day get a pass through Hancock to see the
+brewery. Regular world in itself. Vats of porter wonderful. Rats get in
+too. Drink themselves bloated as big as a collie floating. Dead drunk on
+the porter. Drink till they puke again like christians. Imagine drinking
+that! Rats: vats. Well, of course, if we knew all the things.
+
+Looking down he saw flapping strongly, wheeling between the gaunt
+quaywalls, gulls. Rough weather outside. If I threw myself down? Reuben
+J's son must have swallowed a good bellyful of that sewage. One and
+eightpence too much. Hhhhm. It's the droll way he comes out with the
+things. Knows how to tell a story too.
+
+They wheeled lower. Looking for grub. Wait.
+
+He threw down among them a crumpled paper ball. Elijah thirtytwo feet
+per sec is com. Not a bit. The ball bobbed unheeded on the wake of
+swells, floated under by the bridgepiers. Not such damn fools. Also the
+day I threw that stale cake out of the Erin's King picked it up in the
+wake fifty yards astern. Live by their wits. They wheeled, flapping.
+
+ _The hungry famished gull
+ Flaps o'er the waters dull._
+
+That is how poets write, the similar sounds. But then Shakespeare has
+no rhymes: blank verse. The flow of the language it is. The thoughts.
+Solemn.
+
+
+ _Hamlet, I am thy father's spirit
+ Doomed for a certain time to walk the earth._
+ --Two apples a penny! Two for a penny!
+
+
+His gaze passed over the glazed apples serried on her stand. Australians
+they must be this time of year. Shiny peels: polishes them up with a rag
+or a handkerchief.
+
+Wait. Those poor birds.
+
+He halted again and bought from the old applewoman two Banbury cakes for
+a penny and broke the brittle paste and threw its fragments down into
+the Liffey. See that? The gulls swooped silently, two, then all from
+their heights, pouncing on prey. Gone. Every morsel.
+
+Aware of their greed and cunning he shook the powdery crumb from his
+hands. They never expected that. Manna. Live on fish, fishy flesh they
+have, all seabirds, gulls, seagoose. Swans from Anna Liffey swim down
+here sometimes to preen themselves. No accounting for tastes. Wonder
+what kind is swanmeat. Robinson Crusoe had to live on them.
+
+They wheeled flapping weakly. I'm not going to throw any more. Penny
+quite enough. Lot of thanks I get. Not even a caw. They spread foot and
+mouth disease too. If you cram a turkey say on chestnutmeal it tastes
+like that. Eat pig like pig. But then why is it that saltwater fish are
+not salty? How is that?
+
+His eyes sought answer from the river and saw a rowboat rock at anchor
+on the treacly swells lazily its plastered board.
+
+_Kino's_ 11/- _Trousers_
+
+Good idea that. Wonder if he pays rent to the corporation. How can you
+own water really? It's always flowing in a stream, never the same, which
+in the stream of life we trace. Because life is a stream. All kinds of
+places are good for ads. That quack doctor for the clap used to be stuck
+up in all the greenhouses. Never see it now. Strictly confidential. Dr
+Hy Franks. Didn't cost him a red like Maginni the dancing master self
+advertisement. Got fellows to stick them up or stick them up himself for
+that matter on the q. t. running in to loosen a button. Flybynight.
+Just the place too. POST NO BILLS. POST 110 PILLS. Some chap with a dose
+burning him.
+
+If he...?
+
+O!
+
+Eh?
+
+No... No.
+
+No, no. I don't believe it. He wouldn't surely?
+
+No, no.
+
+Mr Bloom moved forward, raising his troubled eyes. Think no more about
+that. After one. Timeball on the ballastoffice is down. Dunsink time.
+Fascinating little book that is of sir Robert Ball's. Parallax. I never
+exactly understood. There's a priest. Could ask him. Par it's Greek:
+parallel, parallax. Met him pike hoses she called it till I told her
+about the transmigration. O rocks!
+
+Mr Bloom smiled O rocks at two windows of the ballastoffice. She's right
+after all. Only big words for ordinary things on account of the sound.
+She's not exactly witty. Can be rude too. Blurt out what I was thinking.
+Still, I don't know. She used to say Ben Dollard had a base barreltone
+voice. He has legs like barrels and you'd think he was singing into a
+barrel. Now, isn't that wit. They used to call him big Ben. Not half as
+witty as calling him base barreltone. Appetite like an albatross. Get
+outside of a baron of beef. Powerful man he was at stowing away number
+one Bass. Barrel of Bass. See? It all works out.
+
+A procession of whitesmocked sandwichmen marched slowly towards him
+along the gutter, scarlet sashes across their boards. Bargains. Like
+that priest they are this morning: we have sinned: we have suffered. He
+read the scarlet letters on their five tall white hats: H. E. L. Y. S.
+Wisdom Hely's. Y lagging behind drew a chunk of bread from under his
+foreboard, crammed it into his mouth and munched as he walked. Our
+staple food. Three bob a day, walking along the gutters, street after
+street. Just keep skin and bone together, bread and skilly. They are
+not Boyl: no, M Glade's men. Doesn't bring in any business either.
+I suggested to him about a transparent showcart with two smart girls
+sitting inside writing letters, copybooks, envelopes, blottingpaper. I
+bet that would have caught on. Smart girls writing something catch the
+eye at once. Everyone dying to know what she's writing. Get twenty of
+them round you if you stare at nothing. Have a finger in the pie. Women
+too. Curiosity. Pillar of salt. Wouldn't have it of course because he
+didn't think of it himself first. Or the inkbottle I suggested with a
+false stain of black celluloid. His ideas for ads like Plumtree's potted
+under the obituaries, cold meat department. You can't lick 'em. What?
+Our envelopes. Hello, Jones, where are you going? Can't stop, Robinson,
+I am hastening to purchase the only reliable inkeraser _Kansell,_ sold
+by Hely's Ltd, 85 Dame street. Well out of that ruck I am. Devil of a
+job it was collecting accounts of those convents. Tranquilla convent.
+That was a nice nun there, really sweet face. Wimple suited her small
+head. Sister? Sister? I am sure she was crossed in love by her eyes.
+Very hard to bargain with that sort of a woman. I disturbed her at her
+devotions that morning. But glad to communicate with the outside world.
+Our great day, she said. Feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel. Sweet name
+too: caramel. She knew I, I think she knew by the way she. If she had
+married she would have changed. I suppose they really were short of
+money. Fried everything in the best butter all the same. No lard for
+them. My heart's broke eating dripping. They like buttering themselves
+in and out. Molly tasting it, her veil up. Sister? Pat Claffey, the
+pawnbroker's daughter. It was a nun they say invented barbed wire.
+
+He crossed Westmoreland street when apostrophe S had plodded by. Rover
+cycleshop. Those races are on today. How long ago is that? Year Phil
+Gilligan died. We were in Lombard street west. Wait: was in Thom's.
+Got the job in Wisdom Hely's year we married. Six years. Ten years ago:
+ninetyfour he died yes that's right the big fire at Arnott's. Val Dillon
+was lord mayor. The Glencree dinner. Alderman Robert O'Reilly emptying
+the port into his soup before the flag fell. Bobbob lapping it for the
+inner alderman. Couldn't hear what the band played. For what we have
+already received may the Lord make us. Milly was a kiddy then. Molly
+had that elephantgrey dress with the braided frogs. Mantailored with
+selfcovered buttons. She didn't like it because I sprained my ankle
+first day she wore choir picnic at the Sugarloaf. As if that. Old
+Goodwin's tall hat done up with some sticky stuff. Flies' picnic
+too. Never put a dress on her back like it. Fitted her like a glove,
+shoulders and hips. Just beginning to plump it out well. Rabbitpie we
+had that day. People looking after her.
+
+Happy. Happier then. Snug little room that was with the red wallpaper.
+Dockrell's, one and ninepence a dozen. Milly's tubbing night. American
+soap I bought: elderflower. Cosy smell of her bathwater. Funny she
+looked soaped all over. Shapely too. Now photography. Poor papa's
+daguerreotype atelier he told me of. Hereditary taste.
+
+He walked along the curbstone.
+
+Stream of life. What was the name of that priestylooking chap was always
+squinting in when he passed? Weak eyes, woman. Stopped in Citron's saint
+Kevin's parade. Pen something. Pendennis? My memory is getting. Pen
+...? Of course it's years ago. Noise of the trams probably. Well, if he
+couldn't remember the dayfather's name that he sees every day.
+
+Bartell d'Arcy was the tenor, just coming out then. Seeing her home
+after practice. Conceited fellow with his waxedup moustache. Gave her
+that song _Winds that blow from the south_.
+
+Windy night that was I went to fetch her there was that lodge meeting on
+about those lottery tickets after Goodwin's concert in the supperroom or
+oakroom of the Mansion house. He and I behind. Sheet of her music blew
+out of my hand against the High school railings. Lucky it didn't.
+Thing like that spoils the effect of a night for her. Professor Goodwin
+linking her in front. Shaky on his pins, poor old sot. His farewell
+concerts. Positively last appearance on any stage. May be for months and
+may be for never. Remember her laughing at the wind, her blizzard collar
+up. Corner of Harcourt road remember that gust. Brrfoo! Blew up all her
+skirts and her boa nearly smothered old Goodwin. She did get flushed
+in the wind. Remember when we got home raking up the fire and frying up
+those pieces of lap of mutton for her supper with the Chutney sauce she
+liked. And the mulled rum. Could see her in the bedroom from the hearth
+unclamping the busk of her stays: white.
+
+Swish and soft flop her stays made on the bed. Always warm from her.
+Always liked to let her self out. Sitting there after till near two
+taking out her hairpins. Milly tucked up in beddyhouse. Happy. Happy.
+That was the night...
+
+--O, Mr Bloom, how do you do?
+
+--O, how do you do, Mrs Breen?
+
+--No use complaining. How is Molly those times? Haven't seen her for
+ages.
+
+--In the pink, Mr Bloom said gaily. Milly has a position down in
+Mullingar, you know.
+
+--Go away! Isn't that grand for her?
+
+--Yes. In a photographer's there. Getting on like a house on fire. How
+are all your charges?
+
+--All on the baker's list, Mrs Breen said.
+
+How many has she? No other in sight.
+
+--You're in black, I see. You have no...
+
+--No, Mr Bloom said. I have just come from a funeral.
+
+Going to crop up all day, I foresee. Who's dead, when and what did he
+die of? Turn up like a bad penny.
+
+--O, dear me, Mrs Breen said. I hope it wasn't any near relation.
+
+May as well get her sympathy.
+
+--Dignam, Mr Bloom said. An old friend of mine. He died quite suddenly,
+poor fellow. Heart trouble, I believe. Funeral was this morning.
+
+_Your funeral's tomorrow While you're coming through the rye.
+Diddlediddle dumdum Diddlediddle..._
+
+--Sad to lose the old friends, Mrs Breen's womaneyes said melancholily.
+
+Now that's quite enough about that. Just: quietly: husband.
+
+--And your lord and master?
+
+Mrs Breen turned up her two large eyes. Hasn't lost them anyhow.
+
+--O, don't be talking! she said. He's a caution to rattlesnakes. He's
+in there now with his lawbooks finding out the law of libel. He has me
+heartscalded. Wait till I show you.
+
+Hot mockturtle vapour and steam of newbaked jampuffs rolypoly poured
+out from Harrison's. The heavy noonreek tickled the top of Mr Bloom's
+gullet. Want to make good pastry, butter, best flour, Demerara sugar,
+or they'd taste it with the hot tea. Or is it from her? A barefoot
+arab stood over the grating, breathing in the fumes. Deaden the gnaw of
+hunger that way. Pleasure or pain is it? Penny dinner. Knife and fork
+chained to the table.
+
+Opening her handbag, chipped leather. Hatpin: ought to have a guard on
+those things. Stick it in a chap's eye in the tram. Rummaging. Open.
+Money. Please take one. Devils if they lose sixpence. Raise Cain.
+Husband barging. Where's the ten shillings I gave you on Monday? Are
+you feeding your little brother's family? Soiled handkerchief:
+medicinebottle. Pastille that was fell. What is she?...
+
+--There must be a new moon out, she said. He's always bad then. Do you
+know what he did last night?
+
+Her hand ceased to rummage. Her eyes fixed themselves on him, wide in
+alarm, yet smiling.
+
+--What? Mr Bloom asked.
+
+Let her speak. Look straight in her eyes. I believe you. Trust me.
+
+--Woke me up in the night, she said. Dream he had, a nightmare.
+
+Indiges.
+
+--Said the ace of spades was walking up the stairs.
+
+--The ace of spades! Mr Bloom said.
+
+She took a folded postcard from her handbag.
+
+--Read that, she said. He got it this morning.
+
+--What is it? Mr Bloom asked, taking the card. U.P.?
+
+--U.P.: up, she said. Someone taking a rise out of him. It's a great
+shame for them whoever he is.
+
+--Indeed it is, Mr Bloom said.
+
+She took back the card, sighing.
+
+--And now he's going round to Mr Menton's office. He's going to take an
+action for ten thousand pounds, he says.
+
+She folded the card into her untidy bag and snapped the catch.
+
+Same blue serge dress she had two years ago, the nap bleaching. Seen its
+best days. Wispish hair over her ears. And that dowdy toque: three old
+grapes to take the harm out of it. Shabby genteel. She used to be a
+tasty dresser. Lines round her mouth. Only a year or so older than
+Molly.
+
+See the eye that woman gave her, passing. Cruel. The unfair sex.
+
+He looked still at her, holding back behind his look his discontent.
+Pungent mockturtle oxtail mulligatawny. I'm hungry too. Flakes of pastry
+on the gusset of her dress: daub of sugary flour stuck to her cheek.
+Rhubarb tart with liberal fillings, rich fruit interior. Josie Powell
+that was. In Luke Doyle's long ago. Dolphin's Barn, the charades. U.P.:
+up.
+
+Change the subject.
+
+--Do you ever see anything of Mrs Beaufoy? Mr Bloom asked.
+
+--Mina Purefoy? she said.
+
+Philip Beaufoy I was thinking. Playgoers' Club. Matcham often thinks of
+the masterstroke. Did I pull the chain? Yes. The last act.
+
+--Yes.
+
+--I just called to ask on the way in is she over it. She's in the
+lying-in hospital in Holles street. Dr Horne got her in. She's three
+days bad now.
+
+--O, Mr Bloom said. I'm sorry to hear that.
+
+--Yes, Mrs Breen said. And a houseful of kids at home. It's a very stiff
+birth, the nurse told me.
+
+---O, Mr Bloom said.
+
+His heavy pitying gaze absorbed her news. His tongue clacked in
+compassion. Dth! Dth!
+
+--I'm sorry to hear that, he said. Poor thing! Three days! That's
+terrible for her.
+
+Mrs Breen nodded.
+
+--She was taken bad on the Tuesday...
+
+Mr Bloom touched her funnybone gently, warning her:
+
+--Mind! Let this man pass.
+
+A bony form strode along the curbstone from the river staring with a
+rapt gaze into the sunlight through a heavystringed glass. Tight as a
+skullpiece a tiny hat gripped his head. From his arm a folded dustcoat,
+a stick and an umbrella dangled to his stride.
+
+--Watch him, Mr Bloom said. He always walks outside the lampposts.
+Watch!
+
+--Who is he if it's a fair question? Mrs Breen asked. Is he dotty?
+
+--His name is Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, Mr
+Bloom said smiling. Watch!
+
+--He has enough of them, she said. Denis will be like that one of these
+days.
+
+She broke off suddenly.
+
+--There he is, she said. I must go after him. Goodbye. Remember me to
+Molly, won't you?
+
+--I will, Mr Bloom said.
+
+He watched her dodge through passers towards the shopfronts. Denis Breen
+in skimpy frockcoat and blue canvas shoes shuffled out of Harrison's
+hugging two heavy tomes to his ribs. Blown in from the bay. Like old
+times. He suffered her to overtake him without surprise and thrust
+his dull grey beard towards her, his loose jaw wagging as he spoke
+earnestly.
+
+Meshuggah. Off his chump.
+
+Mr Bloom walked on again easily, seeing ahead of him in sunlight the
+tight skullpiece, the dangling stickumbrelladustcoat. Going the two
+days. Watch him! Out he goes again. One way of getting on in the world.
+And that other old mosey lunatic in those duds. Hard time she must have
+with him.
+
+U.P.: up. I'll take my oath that's Alf Bergan or Richie Goulding. Wrote
+it for a lark in the Scotch house I bet anything. Round to Menton's
+office. His oyster eyes staring at the postcard. Be a feast for the
+gods.
+
+He passed the _Irish Times_. There might be other answers Iying there.
+Like to answer them all. Good system for criminals. Code. At their lunch
+now. Clerk with the glasses there doesn't know me. O, leave them there
+to simmer. Enough bother wading through fortyfour of them. Wanted, smart
+lady typist to aid gentleman in literary work. I called you naughty
+darling because I do not like that other world. Please tell me what is
+the meaning. Please tell me what perfume does your wife. Tell me who
+made the world. The way they spring those questions on you. And the
+other one Lizzie Twigg. My literary efforts have had the good fortune to
+meet with the approval of the eminent poet A. E. (Mr Geo. Russell). No
+time to do her hair drinking sloppy tea with a book of poetry.
+
+Best paper by long chalks for a small ad. Got the provinces now. Cook
+and general, exc. cuisine, housemaid kept. Wanted live man for spirit
+counter. Resp. girl (R.C.) wishes to hear of post in fruit or pork shop.
+James Carlisle made that. Six and a half per cent dividend. Made a big
+deal on Coates's shares. Ca' canny. Cunning old Scotch hunks. All the
+toady news. Our gracious and popular vicereine. Bought the _Irish Field_
+now. Lady Mountcashel has quite recovered after her confinement and
+rode out with the Ward Union staghounds at the enlargement yesterday
+at Rathoath. Uneatable fox. Pothunters too. Fear injects juices make
+it tender enough for them. Riding astride. Sit her horse like a man.
+Weightcarrying huntress. No sidesaddle or pillion for her, not for Joe.
+First to the meet and in at the death. Strong as a brood mare some of
+those horsey women. Swagger around livery stables. Toss off a glass
+of brandy neat while you'd say knife. That one at the Grosvenor this
+morning. Up with her on the car: wishswish. Stonewall or fivebarred gate
+put her mount to it. Think that pugnosed driver did it out of spite. Who
+is this she was like? O yes! Mrs Miriam Dandrade that sold me her old
+wraps and black underclothes in the Shelbourne hotel. Divorced Spanish
+American. Didn't take a feather out of her my handling them. As if I was
+her clotheshorse. Saw her in the viceregal party when Stubbs the park
+ranger got me in with Whelan of the _Express._ Scavenging what the
+quality left. High tea. Mayonnaise I poured on the plums thinking it was
+custard. Her ears ought to have tingled for a few weeks after. Want to
+be a bull for her. Born courtesan. No nursery work for her, thanks.
+
+Poor Mrs Purefoy! Methodist husband. Method in his madness. Saffron bun
+and milk and soda lunch in the educational dairy. Y. M. C. A. Eating
+with a stopwatch, thirtytwo chews to the minute. And still his
+muttonchop whiskers grew. Supposed to be well connected. Theodore's
+cousin in Dublin Castle. One tony relative in every family. Hardy
+annuals he presents her with. Saw him out at the Three Jolly Topers
+marching along bareheaded and his eldest boy carrying one in a
+marketnet. The squallers. Poor thing! Then having to give the breast
+year after year all hours of the night. Selfish those t.t's are. Dog in
+the manger. Only one lump of sugar in my tea, if you please.
+
+He stood at Fleet street crossing. Luncheon interval. A sixpenny at
+Rowe's? Must look up that ad in the national library. An eightpenny in
+the Burton. Better. On my way.
+
+He walked on past Bolton's Westmoreland house. Tea. Tea. Tea. I forgot
+to tap Tom Kernan.
+
+Sss. Dth, dth, dth! Three days imagine groaning on a bed with a
+vinegared handkerchief round her forehead, her belly swollen out. Phew!
+Dreadful simply! Child's head too big: forceps. Doubled up inside her
+trying to butt its way out blindly, groping for the way out. Kill me
+that would. Lucky Molly got over hers lightly. They ought to invent
+something to stop that. Life with hard labour. Twilight sleep idea:
+queen Victoria was given that. Nine she had. A good layer. Old
+woman that lived in a shoe she had so many children. Suppose he was
+consumptive. Time someone thought about it instead of gassing about the
+what was it the pensive bosom of the silver effulgence. Flapdoodle to
+feed fools on. They could easily have big establishments whole thing
+quite painless out of all the taxes give every child born five quid at
+compound interest up to twentyone five per cent is a hundred shillings
+and five tiresome pounds multiply by twenty decimal system encourage
+people to put by money save hundred and ten and a bit twentyone years
+want to work it out on paper come to a tidy sum more than you think.
+
+Not stillborn of course. They are not even registered. Trouble for
+nothing.
+
+Funny sight two of them together, their bellies out. Molly and Mrs
+Moisel. Mothers' meeting. Phthisis retires for the time being, then
+returns. How flat they look all of a sudden after. Peaceful eyes. Weight
+off their mind. Old Mrs Thornton was a jolly old soul. All my babies,
+she said. The spoon of pap in her mouth before she fed them. O, that's
+nyumnyum. Got her hand crushed by old Tom Wall's son. His first bow to
+the public. Head like a prize pumpkin. Snuffy Dr Murren. People knocking
+them up at all hours. For God' sake, doctor. Wife in her throes. Then
+keep them waiting months for their fee. To attendance on your wife. No
+gratitude in people. Humane doctors, most of them.
+
+Before the huge high door of the Irish house of parliament a flock of
+pigeons flew. Their little frolic after meals. Who will we do it on? I
+pick the fellow in black. Here goes. Here's good luck. Must be thrilling
+from the air. Apjohn, myself and Owen Goldberg up in the trees near
+Goose green playing the monkeys. Mackerel they called me.
+
+A squad of constables debouched from College street, marching in Indian
+file. Goosestep. Foodheated faces, sweating helmets, patting their
+truncheons. After their feed with a good load of fat soup under their
+belts. Policeman's lot is oft a happy one. They split up in groups and
+scattered, saluting, towards their beats. Let out to graze. Best moment
+to attack one in pudding time. A punch in his dinner. A squad of others,
+marching irregularly, rounded Trinity railings making for the station.
+Bound for their troughs. Prepare to receive cavalry. Prepare to receive
+soup.
+
+He crossed under Tommy Moore's roguish finger. They did right to put him
+up over a urinal: meeting of the waters. Ought to be places for women.
+Running into cakeshops. Settle my hat straight. _There is not in this
+wide world a vallee_. Great song of Julia Morkan's. Kept her voice up to
+the very last. Pupil of Michael Balfe's, wasn't she?
+
+He gazed after the last broad tunic. Nasty customers to tackle. Jack
+Power could a tale unfold: father a G man. If a fellow gave them trouble
+being lagged they let him have it hot and heavy in the bridewell.
+Can't blame them after all with the job they have especially the young
+hornies. That horsepoliceman the day Joe Chamberlain was given his
+degree in Trinity he got a run for his money. My word he did! His
+horse's hoofs clattering after us down Abbey street. Lucky I had the
+presence of mind to dive into Manning's or I was souped. He did come a
+wallop, by George. Must have cracked his skull on the cobblestones. I
+oughtn't to have got myself swept along with those medicals. And the
+Trinity jibs in their mortarboards. Looking for trouble. Still I got to
+know that young Dixon who dressed that sting for me in the Mater and now
+he's in Holles street where Mrs Purefoy. Wheels within wheels. Police
+whistle in my ears still. All skedaddled. Why he fixed on me. Give me in
+charge. Right here it began.
+
+--Up the Boers!
+
+--Three cheers for De Wet!
+
+--We'll hang Joe Chamberlain on a sourapple tree.
+
+Silly billies: mob of young cubs yelling their guts out. Vinegar hill.
+The Butter exchange band. Few years' time half of them magistrates and
+civil servants. War comes on: into the army helterskelter: same fellows
+used to. Whether on the scaffold high.
+
+Never know who you're talking to. Corny Kelleher he has Harvey Duff in
+his eye. Like that Peter or Denis or James Carey that blew the gaff on
+the invincibles. Member of the corporation too. Egging raw youths on to
+get in the know all the time drawing secret service pay from the castle.
+Drop him like a hot potato. Why those plainclothes men are always
+courting slaveys. Easily twig a man used to uniform. Squarepushing up
+against a backdoor. Maul her a bit. Then the next thing on the menu. And
+who is the gentleman does be visiting there? Was the young master saying
+anything? Peeping Tom through the keyhole. Decoy duck. Hotblooded young
+student fooling round her fat arms ironing.
+
+--Are those yours, Mary?
+
+--I don't wear such things... Stop or I'll tell the missus on you. Out
+half the night.
+
+--There are great times coming, Mary. Wait till you see.
+
+--Ah, gelong with your great times coming.
+
+Barmaids too. Tobaccoshopgirls.
+
+James Stephens' idea was the best. He knew them. Circles of ten so that
+a fellow couldn't round on more than his own ring. Sinn Fein. Back out
+you get the knife. Hidden hand. Stay in. The firing squad. Turnkey's
+daughter got him out of Richmond, off from Lusk. Putting up in the
+Buckingham Palace hotel under their very noses. Garibaldi.
+
+You must have a certain fascination: Parnell. Arthur Griffith is a
+squareheaded fellow but he has no go in him for the mob. Or gas about
+our lovely land. Gammon and spinach. Dublin Bakery Company's tearoom.
+Debating societies. That republicanism is the best form of government.
+That the language question should take precedence of the economic
+question. Have your daughters inveigling them to your house. Stuff them
+up with meat and drink. Michaelmas goose. Here's a good lump of thyme
+seasoning under the apron for you. Have another quart of goosegrease
+before it gets too cold. Halffed enthusiasts. Penny roll and a walk with
+the band. No grace for the carver. The thought that the other chap pays
+best sauce in the world. Make themselves thoroughly at home. Show us
+over those apricots, meaning peaches. The not far distant day. Homerule
+sun rising up in the northwest.
+
+His smile faded as he walked, a heavy cloud hiding the sun slowly,
+shadowing Trinity's surly front. Trams passed one another, ingoing,
+outgoing, clanging. Useless words. Things go on same, day after day:
+squads of police marching out, back: trams in, out. Those two loonies
+mooching about. Dignam carted off. Mina Purefoy swollen belly on a
+bed groaning to have a child tugged out of her. One born every second
+somewhere. Other dying every second. Since I fed the birds five minutes.
+Three hundred kicked the bucket. Other three hundred born, washing the
+blood off, all are washed in the blood of the lamb, bawling maaaaaa.
+
+Cityful passing away, other cityful coming, passing away too: other
+coming on, passing on. Houses, lines of houses, streets, miles of
+pavements, piledup bricks, stones. Changing hands. This owner, that.
+Landlord never dies they say. Other steps into his shoes when he gets
+his notice to quit. They buy the place up with gold and still they have
+all the gold. Swindle in it somewhere. Piled up in cities, worn away age
+after age. Pyramids in sand. Built on bread and onions. Slaves Chinese
+wall. Babylon. Big stones left. Round towers. Rest rubble, sprawling
+suburbs, jerrybuilt. Kerwan's mushroom houses built of breeze. Shelter,
+for the night.
+
+No-one is anything.
+
+This is the very worst hour of the day. Vitality. Dull, gloomy: hate
+this hour. Feel as if I had been eaten and spewed.
+
+Provost's house. The reverend Dr Salmon: tinned salmon. Well tinned in
+there. Like a mortuary chapel. Wouldn't live in it if they paid me. Hope
+they have liver and bacon today. Nature abhors a vacuum.
+
+The sun freed itself slowly and lit glints of light among the silverware
+opposite in Walter Sexton's window by which John Howard Parnell passed,
+unseeing.
+
+There he is: the brother. Image of him. Haunting face. Now that's a
+coincidence. Course hundreds of times you think of a person and don't
+meet him. Like a man walking in his sleep. No-one knows him. Must be a
+corporation meeting today. They say he never put on the city marshal's
+uniform since he got the job. Charley Kavanagh used to come out on
+his high horse, cocked hat, puffed, powdered and shaved. Look at the
+woebegone walk of him. Eaten a bad egg. Poached eyes on ghost. I have a
+pain. Great man's brother: his brother's brother. He'd look nice on the
+city charger. Drop into the D.B.C. probably for his coffee, play chess
+there. His brother used men as pawns. Let them all go to pot. Afraid to
+pass a remark on him. Freeze them up with that eye of his. That's the
+fascination: the name. All a bit touched. Mad Fanny and his other sister
+Mrs Dickinson driving about with scarlet harness. Bolt upright lik
+surgeon M'Ardle. Still David Sheehy beat him for south Meath. Apply
+for the Chiltern Hundreds and retire into public life. The patriot's
+banquet. Eating orangepeels in the park. Simon Dedalus said when they
+put him in parliament that Parnell would come back from the grave and
+lead him out of the house of commons by the arm.
+
+--Of the twoheaded octopus, one of whose heads is the head upon which
+the ends of the world have forgotten to come while the other speaks with
+a Scotch accent. The tentacles...
+
+They passed from behind Mr Bloom along the curbstone. Beard and bicycle.
+Young woman.
+
+And there he is too. Now that's really a coincidence: second time.
+Coming events cast their shadows before. With the approval of the
+eminent poet, Mr Geo. Russell. That might be Lizzie Twigg with him. A.
+E.: what does that mean? Initials perhaps. Albert Edward, Arthur Edmund,
+Alphonsus Eb Ed El Esquire. What was he saying? The ends of the world
+with a Scotch accent. Tentacles: octopus. Something occult: symbolism.
+Holding forth. She's taking it all in. Not saying a word. To aid
+gentleman in literary work.
+
+His eyes followed the high figure in homespun, beard and bicycle,
+a listening woman at his side. Coming from the vegetarian. Only
+weggebobbles and fruit. Don't eat a beefsteak. If you do the eyes of
+that cow will pursue you through all eternity. They say it's healthier.
+Windandwatery though. Tried it. Keep you on the run all day. Bad as
+a bloater. Dreams all night. Why do they call that thing they gave me
+nutsteak? Nutarians. Fruitarians. To give you the idea you are eating
+rumpsteak. Absurd. Salty too. They cook in soda. Keep you sitting by the
+tap all night.
+
+Her stockings are loose over her ankles. I detest that: so tasteless.
+Those literary etherial people they are all. Dreamy, cloudy,
+symbolistic. Esthetes they are. I wouldn't be surprised if it was that
+kind of food you see produces the like waves of the brain the poetical.
+For example one of those policemen sweating Irish stew into their shirts
+you couldn't squeeze a line of poetry out of him. Don't know what poetry
+is even. Must be in a certain mood.
+
+ _The dreamy cloudy gull
+ Waves o'er the waters dull._
+
+He crossed at Nassau street corner and stood before the window of Yeates
+and Son, pricing the fieldglasses. Or will I drop into old Harris's and
+have a chat with young Sinclair? Wellmannered fellow. Probably at his
+lunch. Must get those old glasses of mine set right. Goerz lenses six
+guineas. Germans making their way everywhere. Sell on easy terms to
+capture trade. Undercutting. Might chance on a pair in the railway lost
+property office. Astonishing the things people leave behind them in
+trains and cloakrooms. What do they be thinking about? Women too.
+Incredible. Last year travelling to Ennis had to pick up that farmer's
+daughter's ba and hand it to her at Limerick junction. Unclaimed money
+too. There's a little watch up there on the roof of the bank to test
+those glasses by.
+
+
+His lids came down on the lower rims of his irides. Can't see it. If you
+imagine it's there you can almost see it. Can't see it.
+
+He faced about and, standing between the awnings, held out his right
+hand at arm's length towards the sun. Wanted to try that often. Yes:
+completely. The tip of his little finger blotted out the sun's disk.
+Must be the focus where the rays cross. If I had black glasses.
+Interesting. There was a lot of talk about those sunspots when we
+were in Lombard street west. Looking up from the back garden. Terrific
+explosions they are. There will be a total eclipse this year: autumn
+some time.
+
+Now that I come to think of it that ball falls at Greenwich time. It's
+the clock is worked by an electric wire from Dunsink. Must go out there
+some first Saturday of the month. If I could get an introduction to
+professor Joly or learn up something about his family. That would do to:
+man always feels complimented. Flattery where least expected. Nobleman
+proud to be descended from some king's mistress. His foremother. Lay it
+on with a trowel. Cap in hand goes through the land. Not go in and blurt
+out what you know you're not to: what's parallax? Show this gentleman
+the door.
+
+Ah.
+
+His hand fell to his side again.
+
+Never know anything about it. Waste of time. Gasballs spinning about,
+crossing each other, passing. Same old dingdong always. Gas: then solid:
+then world: then cold: then dead shell drifting around, frozen rock,
+like that pineapple rock. The moon. Must be a new moon out, she said. I
+believe there is.
+
+He went on by la maison Claire.
+
+Wait. The full moon was the night we were Sunday fortnight exactly there
+is a new moon. Walking down by the Tolka. Not bad for a Fairview moon.
+She was humming. The young May moon she's beaming, love. He other side
+of her. Elbow, arm. He. Glowworm's la-amp is gleaming, love. Touch.
+Fingers. Asking. Answer. Yes.
+
+Stop. Stop. If it was it was. Must.
+
+Mr Bloom, quickbreathing, slowlier walking passed Adam court.
+
+With a keep quiet relief his eyes took note this is the street here
+middle of the day of Bob Doran's bottle shoulders. On his annual bend,
+M Coy said. They drink in order to say or do something or _cherchez la
+femme_. Up in the Coombe with chummies and streetwalkers and then the
+rest of the year sober as a judge.
+
+Yes. Thought so. Sloping into the Empire. Gone. Plain soda would do him
+good. Where Pat Kinsella had his Harp theatre before Whitbred ran the
+Queen's. Broth of a boy. Dion Boucicault business with his harvestmoon
+face in a poky bonnet. Three Purty Maids from School. How time flies,
+eh? Showing long red pantaloons under his skirts. Drinkers, drinking,
+laughed spluttering, their drink against their breath. More power, Pat.
+Coarse red: fun for drunkards: guffaw and smoke. Take off that white
+hat. His parboiled eyes. Where is he now? Beggar somewhere. The harp
+that once did starve us all.
+
+I was happier then. Or was that I? Or am I now I? Twentyeight I was. She
+twentythree. When we left Lombard street west something changed. Could
+never like it again after Rudy. Can't bring back time. Like holding
+water in your hand. Would you go back to then? Just beginning then.
+Would you? Are you not happy in your home you poor little naughty boy?
+Wants to sew on buttons for me. I must answer. Write it in the library.
+
+Grafton street gay with housed awnings lured his senses. Muslin prints,
+silkdames and dowagers, jingle of harnesses, hoofthuds lowringing in the
+baking causeway. Thick feet that woman has in the white stockings. Hope
+the rain mucks them up on her. Countrybred chawbacon. All the beef to
+the heels were in. Always gives a woman clumsy feet. Molly looks out of
+plumb.
+
+He passed, dallying, the windows of Brown Thomas, silk mercers. Cascades
+of ribbons. Flimsy China silks. A tilted urn poured from its mouth a
+flood of bloodhued poplin: lustrous blood. The huguenots brought that
+here. _La causa è santa_! Tara tara. Great chorus that. Taree tara. Must
+be washed in rainwater. Meyerbeer. Tara: bom bom bom.
+
+Pincushions. I'm a long time threatening to buy one. Sticking them all
+over the place. Needles in window curtains.
+
+He bared slightly his left forearm. Scrape: nearly gone. Not today
+anyhow. Must go back for that lotion. For her birthday perhaps.
+Junejulyaugseptember eighth. Nearly three months off. Then she mightn't
+like it. Women won't pick up pins. Say it cuts lo.
+
+Gleaming silks, petticoats on slim brass rails, rays of flat silk
+stockings.
+
+Useless to go back. Had to be. Tell me all.
+
+High voices. Sunwarm silk. Jingling harnesses. All for a woman, home and
+houses, silkwebs, silver, rich fruits spicy from Jaffa. Agendath Netaim.
+Wealth of the world.
+
+A warm human plumpness settled down on his brain. His brain yielded.
+Perfume of embraces all him assailed. With hungered flesh obscurely, he
+mutely craved to adore.
+
+Duke street. Here we are. Must eat. The Burton. Feel better then.
+
+He turned Combridge's corner, still pursued. Jingling, hoofthuds.
+Perfumed bodies, warm, full. All kissed, yielded: in deep summer fields,
+tangled pressed grass, in trickling hallways of tenements, along sofas,
+creaking beds.
+
+--Jack, love!
+
+--Darling!
+
+--Kiss me, Reggy!
+
+--My boy!
+
+--Love!
+
+His heart astir he pushed in the door of the Burton restaurant. Stink
+gripped his trembling breath: pungent meatjuice, slush of greens. See
+the animals feed.
+
+Men, men, men.
+
+Perched on high stools by the bar, hats shoved back, at the tables
+calling for more bread no charge, swilling, wolfing gobfuls of sloppy
+food, their eyes bulging, wiping wetted moustaches. A pallid suetfaced
+young man polished his tumbler knife fork and spoon with his napkin. New
+set of microbes. A man with an infant's saucestained napkin tucked round
+him shovelled gurgling soup down his gullet. A man spitting back on his
+plate: halfmasticated gristle: gums: no teeth to chewchewchew it. Chump
+chop from the grill. Bolting to get it over. Sad booser's eyes. Bitten
+off more than he can chew. Am I like that? See ourselves as others see
+us. Hungry man is an angry man. Working tooth and jaw. Don't! O! A bone!
+That last pagan king of Ireland Cormac in the schoolpoem choked himself
+at Sletty southward of the Boyne. Wonder what he was eating. Something
+galoptious. Saint Patrick converted him to Christianity. Couldn't
+swallow it all however.
+
+--Roast beef and cabbage.
+
+--One stew.
+
+Smells of men. His gorge rose. Spaton sawdust, sweetish warmish
+cigarette smoke, reek of plug, spilt beer, men's beery piss, the stale
+of ferment.
+
+Couldn't eat a morsel here. Fellow sharpening knife and fork to eat all
+before him, old chap picking his tootles. Slight spasm, full, chewing
+the cud. Before and after. Grace after meals. Look on this picture then
+on that. Scoffing up stewgravy with sopping sippets of bread. Lick it
+off the plate, man! Get out of this.
+
+He gazed round the stooled and tabled eaters, tightening the wings of
+his nose.
+
+--Two stouts here.
+
+--One corned and cabbage.
+
+That fellow ramming a knifeful of cabbage down as if his life depended
+on it. Good stroke. Give me the fidgets to look. Safer to eat from his
+three hands. Tear it limb from limb. Second nature to him. Born with a
+silver knife in his mouth. That's witty, I think. Or no. Silver means
+born rich. Born with a knife. But then the allusion is lost.
+
+An illgirt server gathered sticky clattering plates. Rock, the head
+bailiff, standing at the bar blew the foamy crown from his tankard. Well
+up: it splashed yellow near his boot. A diner, knife and fork upright,
+elbows on table, ready for a second helping stared towards the foodlift
+across his stained square of newspaper. Other chap telling him something
+with his mouth full. Sympathetic listener. Table talk. I munched hum un
+thu Unchster Bunk un Munchday. Ha? Did you, faith?
+
+Mr Bloom raised two fingers doubtfully to his lips. His eyes said:
+
+--Not here. Don't see him.
+
+Out. I hate dirty eaters.
+
+He backed towards the door. Get a light snack in Davy Byrne's. Stopgap.
+Keep me going. Had a good breakfast.
+
+--Roast and mashed here.
+
+--Pint of stout.
+
+Every fellow for his own, tooth and nail. Gulp. Grub. Gulp. Gobstuff.
+
+He came out into clearer air and turned back towards Grafton street. Eat
+or be eaten. Kill! Kill!
+
+Suppose that communal kitchen years to come perhaps. All trotting down
+with porringers and tommycans to be filled. Devour contents in the
+street. John Howard Parnell example the provost of Trinity every
+mother's son don't talk of your provosts and provost of Trinity women
+and children cabmen priests parsons fieldmarshals archbishops. From
+Ailesbury road, Clyde road, artisans' dwellings, north Dublin union,
+lord mayor in his gingerbread coach, old queen in a bathchair. My
+plate's empty. After you with our incorporated drinkingcup. Like sir
+Philip Crampton's fountain. Rub off the microbes with your handkerchief.
+Next chap rubs on a new batch with his. Father O'Flynn would make
+hares of them all. Have rows all the same. All for number one. Children
+fighting for the scrapings of the pot. Want a souppot as big as the
+Phoenix park. Harpooning flitches and hindquarters out of it. Hate
+people all round you. City Arms hotel _table d'hôte_ she called it.
+Soup, joint and sweet. Never know whose thoughts you're chewing. Then
+who'd wash up all the plates and forks? Might be all feeding on tabloids
+that time. Teeth getting worse and worse.
+
+After all there's a lot in that vegetarian fine flavour of things from
+the earth garlic of course it stinks after Italian organgrinders crisp
+of onions mushrooms truffles. Pain to the animal too. Pluck and draw
+fowl. Wretched brutes there at the cattlemarket waiting for the poleaxe
+to split their skulls open. Moo. Poor trembling calves. Meh. Staggering
+bob. Bubble and squeak. Butchers' buckets wobbly lights. Give us that
+brisket off the hook. Plup. Rawhead and bloody bones. Flayed glasseyed
+sheep hung from their haunches, sheepsnouts bloodypapered snivelling
+nosejam on sawdust. Top and lashers going out. Don't maul them pieces,
+young one.
+
+Hot fresh blood they prescribe for decline. Blood always needed.
+Insidious. Lick it up smokinghot, thick sugary. Famished ghosts.
+
+Ah, I'm hungry.
+
+He entered Davy Byrne's. Moral pub. He doesn't chat. Stands a drink now
+and then. But in leapyear once in four. Cashed a cheque for me once.
+
+What will I take now? He drew his watch. Let me see now. Shandygaff?
+
+--Hello, Bloom, Nosey Flynn said from his nook.
+
+--Hello, Flynn.
+
+--How's things?
+
+--Tiptop... Let me see. I'll take a glass of burgundy and... let me
+see.
+
+Sardines on the shelves. Almost taste them by looking. Sandwich? Ham
+and his descendants musterred and bred there. Potted meats. What is home
+without Plumtree's potted meat? Incomplete. What a stupid ad! Under the
+obituary notices they stuck it. All up a plumtree. Dignam's potted meat.
+Cannibals would with lemon and rice. White missionary too salty. Like
+pickled pork. Expect the chief consumes the parts of honour. Ought to be
+tough from exercise. His wives in a row to watch the effect. _There was
+a right royal old nigger. Who ate or something the somethings of the
+reverend Mr MacTrigger_. With it an abode of bliss. Lord knows what
+concoction. Cauls mouldy tripes windpipes faked and minced up. Puzzle
+find the meat. Kosher. No meat and milk together. Hygiene that was what
+they call now. Yom Kippur fast spring cleaning of inside. Peace and
+war depend on some fellow's digestion. Religions. Christmas turkeys and
+geese. Slaughter of innocents. Eat drink and be merry. Then casual wards
+full after. Heads bandaged. Cheese digests all but itself. Mity cheese.
+
+--Have you a cheese sandwich?
+
+--Yes, sir.
+
+Like a few olives too if they had them. Italian I prefer. Good glass of
+burgundy take away that. Lubricate. A nice salad, cool as a cucumber,
+Tom Kernan can dress. Puts gusto into it. Pure olive oil. Milly served
+me that cutlet with a sprig of parsley. Take one Spanish onion. God made
+food, the devil the cooks. Devilled crab.
+
+--Wife well?
+
+--Quite well, thanks... A cheese sandwich, then. Gorgonzola, have you?
+
+--Yes, sir.
+
+Nosey Flynn sipped his grog.
+
+--Doing any singing those times?
+
+Look at his mouth. Could whistle in his own ear. Flap ears to match.
+Music. Knows as much about it as my coachman. Still better tell him.
+Does no harm. Free ad.
+
+--She's engaged for a big tour end of this month. You may have heard
+perhaps.
+
+--No. O, that's the style. Who's getting it up?
+
+The curate served.
+
+--How much is that?
+
+--Seven d., sir... Thank you, sir.
+
+Mr Bloom cut his sandwich into slender strips. _Mr MacTrigger_. Easier
+than the dreamy creamy stuff. _His five hundred wives. Had the time of
+their lives._
+
+--Mustard, sir?
+
+--Thank you.
+
+He studded under each lifted strip yellow blobs. _Their lives_. I have
+it. _It grew bigger and bigger and bigger_.
+
+--Getting it up? he said. Well, it's like a company idea, you see. Part
+shares and part profits.
+
+--Ay, now I remember, Nosey Flynn said, putting his hand in his pocket
+to scratch his groin. Who is this was telling me? Isn't Blazes Boylan
+mixed up in it?
+
+A warm shock of air heat of mustard hanched on Mr Bloom's heart. He
+raised his eyes and met the stare of a bilious clock. Two. Pub clock
+five minutes fast. Time going on. Hands moving. Two. Not yet.
+
+His midriff yearned then upward, sank within him, yearned more longly,
+longingly.
+
+Wine.
+
+He smellsipped the cordial juice and, bidding his throat strongly to
+speed it, set his wineglass delicately down.
+
+--Yes, he said. He's the organiser in point of fact.
+
+No fear: no brains.
+
+Nosey Flynn snuffled and scratched. Flea having a good square meal.
+
+--He had a good slice of luck, Jack Mooney was telling me, over that
+boxingmatch Myler Keogh won again that soldier in the Portobello
+barracks. By God, he had the little kipper down in the county Carlow he
+was telling me...
+
+Hope that dewdrop doesn't come down into his glass. No, snuffled it up.
+
+--For near a month, man, before it came off. Sucking duck eggs by God
+till further orders. Keep him off the boose, see? O, by God, Blazes is a
+hairy chap.
+
+Davy Byrne came forward from the hindbar in tuckstitched shirtsleeves,
+cleaning his lips with two wipes of his napkin. Herring's blush. Whose
+smile upon each feature plays with such and such replete. Too much fat
+on the parsnips.
+
+--And here's himself and pepper on him, Nosey Flynn said. Can you give
+us a good one for the Gold cup?
+
+--I'm off that, Mr Flynn, Davy Byrne answered. I never put anything on a
+horse.
+
+--You're right there, Nosey Flynn said.
+
+Mr Bloom ate his strips of sandwich, fresh clean bread, with relish of
+disgust pungent mustard, the feety savour of green cheese. Sips of his
+wine soothed his palate. Not logwood that. Tastes fuller this weather
+with the chill off.
+
+Nice quiet bar. Nice piece of wood in that counter. Nicely planed. Like
+the way it curves there.
+
+--I wouldn't do anything at all in that line, Davy Byrne said. It ruined
+many a man, the same horses.
+
+Vintners' sweepstake. Licensed for the sale of beer, wine and spirits
+for consumption on the premises. Heads I win tails you lose.
+
+--True for you, Nosey Flynn said. Unless you're in the know. There's
+no straight sport going now. Lenehan gets some good ones. He's giving
+Sceptre today. Zinfandel's the favourite, lord Howard de Walden's, won
+at Epsom. Morny Cannon is riding him. I could have got seven to one
+against Saint Amant a fortnight before.
+
+--That so? Davy Byrne said...
+
+He went towards the window and, taking up the pettycash book, scanned
+its pages.
+
+--I could, faith, Nosey Flynn said, snuffling. That was a rare bit of
+horseflesh. Saint Frusquin was her sire. She won in a thunderstorm,
+Rothschild's filly, with wadding in her ears. Blue jacket and yellow
+cap. Bad luck to big Ben Dollard and his John O'Gaunt. He put me off it.
+Ay.
+
+He drank resignedly from his tumbler, running his fingers down the
+flutes.
+
+--Ay, he said, sighing.
+
+Mr Bloom, champing, standing, looked upon his sigh. Nosey numbskull.
+Will I tell him that horse Lenehan? He knows already. Better let him
+forget. Go and lose more. Fool and his money. Dewdrop coming down again.
+Cold nose he'd have kissing a woman. Still they might like. Prickly
+beards they like. Dogs' cold noses. Old Mrs Riordan with the rumbling
+stomach's Skye terrier in the City Arms hotel. Molly fondling him in her
+lap. O, the big doggybowwowsywowsy!
+
+Wine soaked and softened rolled pith of bread mustard a moment mawkish
+cheese. Nice wine it is. Taste it better because I'm not thirsty. Bath
+of course does that. Just a bite or two. Then about six o'clock I can.
+Six. Six. Time will be gone then. She...
+
+Mild fire of wine kindled his veins. I wanted that badly. Felt so
+off colour. His eyes unhungrily saw shelves of tins: sardines, gaudy
+lobsters' claws. All the odd things people pick up for food. Out of
+shells, periwinkles with a pin, off trees, snails out of the ground the
+French eat, out of the sea with bait on a hook. Silly fish learn nothing
+in a thousand years. If you didn't know risky putting anything into your
+mouth. Poisonous berries. Johnny Magories. Roundness you think good.
+Gaudy colour warns you off. One fellow told another and so on. Try it
+on the dog first. Led on by the smell or the look. Tempting fruit.
+Ice cones. Cream. Instinct. Orangegroves for instance. Need artificial
+irrigation. Bleibtreustrasse. Yes but what about oysters. Unsightly like
+a clot of phlegm. Filthy shells. Devil to open them too. Who found them
+out? Garbage, sewage they feed on. Fizz and Red bank oysters. Effect
+on the sexual. Aphrodis. He was in the Red Bank this morning. Was he
+oysters old fish at table perhaps he young flesh in bed no June has
+no ar no oysters. But there are people like things high. Tainted game.
+Jugged hare. First catch your hare. Chinese eating eggs fifty years old,
+blue and green again. Dinner of thirty courses. Each dish harmless might
+mix inside. Idea for a poison mystery. That archduke Leopold was it no
+yes or was it Otto one of those Habsburgs? Or who was it used to eat the
+scruff off his own head? Cheapest lunch in town. Of course aristocrats,
+then the others copy to be in the fashion. Milly too rock oil and flour.
+Raw pastry I like myself. Half the catch of oysters they throw back in
+the sea to keep up the price. Cheap no-one would buy. Caviare. Do the
+grand. Hock in green glasses. Swell blowout. Lady this. Powdered bosom
+pearls. The _élite. Crème de la crème_. They want special dishes to
+pretend they're. Hermit with a platter of pulse keep down the stings
+of the flesh. Know me come eat with me. Royal sturgeon high sheriff,
+Coffey, the butcher, right to venisons of the forest from his ex. Send
+him back the half of a cow. Spread I saw down in the Master of the
+Rolls' kitchen area. Whitehatted _chef_ like a rabbi. Combustible duck.
+Curly cabbage _Ã la duchesse de Parme_. Just as well to write it on the
+bill of fare so you can know what you've eaten. Too many drugs spoil the
+broth. I know it myself. Dosing it with Edwards' desiccated soup. Geese
+stuffed silly for them. Lobsters boiled alive. Do ptake some ptarmigan.
+Wouldn't mind being a waiter in a swell hotel. Tips, evening dress,
+halfnaked ladies. May I tempt you to a little more filleted lemon sole,
+miss Dubedat? Yes, do bedad. And she did bedad. Huguenot name I expect
+that. A miss Dubedat lived in Killiney, I remember. _Du, de la_ French.
+Still it's the same fish perhaps old Micky Hanlon of Moore street ripped
+the guts out of making money hand over fist finger in fishes' gills
+can't write his name on a cheque think he was painting the landscape
+with his mouth twisted. Moooikill A Aitcha Ha ignorant as a kish of
+brogues, worth fifty thousand pounds.
+
+Stuck on the pane two flies buzzed, stuck.
+
+Glowing wine on his palate lingered swallowed. Crushing in the winepress
+grapes of Burgundy. Sun's heat it is. Seems to a secret touch telling me
+memory. Touched his sense moistened remembered. Hidden under wild ferns
+on Howth below us bay sleeping: sky. No sound. The sky. The bay purple
+by the Lion's head. Green by Drumleck. Yellowgreen towards Sutton.
+Fields of undersea, the lines faint brown in grass, buried cities.
+Pillowed on my coat she had her hair, earwigs in the heather scrub
+my hand under her nape, you'll toss me all. O wonder! Coolsoft with
+ointments her hand touched me, caressed: her eyes upon me did not turn
+away. Ravished over her I lay, full lips full open, kissed her mouth.
+Yum. Softly she gave me in my mouth the seedcake warm and chewed.
+Mawkish pulp her mouth had mumbled sweetsour of her spittle. Joy: I ate
+it: joy. Young life, her lips that gave me pouting. Soft warm sticky
+gumjelly lips. Flowers her eyes were, take me, willing eyes. Pebbles
+fell. She lay still. A goat. No-one. High on Ben Howth rhododendrons a
+nannygoat walking surefooted, dropping currants. Screened under ferns
+she laughed warmfolded. Wildly I lay on her, kissed her: eyes, her lips,
+her stretched neck beating, woman's breasts full in her blouse of nun's
+veiling, fat nipples upright. Hot I tongued her. She kissed me. I was
+kissed. All yielding she tossed my hair. Kissed, she kissed me.
+
+Me. And me now.
+
+Stuck, the flies buzzed.
+
+His downcast eyes followed the silent veining of the oaken slab. Beauty:
+it curves: curves are beauty. Shapely goddesses, Venus, Juno: curves the
+world admires. Can see them library museum standing in the round hall,
+naked goddesses. Aids to digestion. They don't care what man looks. All
+to see. Never speaking. I mean to say to fellows like Flynn. Suppose she
+did Pygmalion and Galatea what would she say first? Mortal! Put you in
+your proper place. Quaffing nectar at mess with gods golden dishes, all
+ambrosial. Not like a tanner lunch we have, boiled mutton, carrots and
+turnips, bottle of Allsop. Nectar imagine it drinking electricity: gods'
+food. Lovely forms of women sculped Junonian. Immortal lovely. And we
+stuffing food in one hole and out behind: food, chyle, blood, dung,
+earth, food: have to feed it like stoking an engine. They have no. Never
+looked. I'll look today. Keeper won't see. Bend down let something drop
+see if she.
+
+Dribbling a quiet message from his bladder came to go to do not to
+do there to do. A man and ready he drained his glass to the lees and
+walked, to men too they gave themselves, manly conscious, lay with men
+lovers, a youth enjoyed her, to the yard.
+
+When the sound of his boots had ceased Davy Byrne said from his book:
+
+--What is this he is? Isn't he in the insurance line?
+
+--He's out of that long ago, Nosey Flynn said. He does canvassing for
+the _Freeman._
+
+--I know him well to see, Davy Byrne said. Is he in trouble?
+
+--Trouble? Nosey Flynn said. Not that I heard of. Why?
+
+--I noticed he was in mourning.
+
+--Was he? Nosey Flynn said. So he was, faith. I asked him how was all at
+home. You're right, by God. So he was.
+
+--I never broach the subject, Davy Byrne said humanely, if I see a
+gentleman is in trouble that way. It only brings it up fresh in their
+minds.
+
+--It's not the wife anyhow, Nosey Flynn said. I met him the day before
+yesterday and he coming out of that Irish farm dairy John Wyse Nolan's
+wife has in Henry street with a jar of cream in his hand taking it home
+to his better half. She's well nourished, I tell you. Plovers on toast.
+
+--And is he doing for the _Freeman?_ Davy Byrne said.
+
+Nosey Flynn pursed his lips.
+
+---He doesn't buy cream on the ads he picks up. You can make bacon of
+that.
+
+--How so? Davy Byrne asked, coming from his book.
+
+Nosey Flynn made swift passes in the air with juggling fingers. He
+winked.
+
+--He's in the craft, he said.
+
+---Do you tell me so? Davy Byrne said.
+
+--Very much so, Nosey Flynn said. Ancient free and accepted order. He's
+an excellent brother. Light, life and love, by God. They give him a leg
+up. I was told that by a--well, I won't say who.
+
+--Is that a fact?
+
+--O, it's a fine order, Nosey Flynn said. They stick to you when you're
+down. I know a fellow was trying to get into it. But they're as close as
+damn it. By God they did right to keep the women out of it.
+
+Davy Byrne smiledyawnednodded all in one:
+
+--Iiiiiichaaaaaaach!
+
+--There was one woman, Nosey Flynn said, hid herself in a clock to find
+out what they do be doing. But be damned but they smelt her out and
+swore her in on the spot a master mason. That was one of the saint
+Legers of Doneraile.
+
+Davy Byrne, sated after his yawn, said with tearwashed eyes:
+
+--And is that a fact? Decent quiet man he is. I often saw him in here
+and I never once saw him--you know, over the line.
+
+--God Almighty couldn't make him drunk, Nosey Flynn said firmly. Slips
+off when the fun gets too hot. Didn't you see him look at his watch? Ah,
+you weren't there. If you ask him to have a drink first thing he does
+he outs with the watch to see what he ought to imbibe. Declare to God he
+does.
+
+--There are some like that, Davy Byrne said. He's a safe man, I'd say.
+
+--He's not too bad, Nosey Flynn said, snuffling it up. He's been known
+to put his hand down too to help a fellow. Give the devil his due. O,
+Bloom has his good points. But there's one thing he'll never do.
+
+His hand scrawled a dry pen signature beside his grog.
+
+--I know, Davy Byrne said.
+
+--Nothing in black and white, Nosey Flynn said.
+
+Paddy Leonard and Bantam Lyons came in. Tom Rochford followed frowning,
+a plaining hand on his claret waistcoat.
+
+--Day, Mr Byrne.
+
+--Day, gentlemen.
+
+They paused at the counter.
+
+--Who's standing? Paddy Leonard asked.
+
+--I'm sitting anyhow, Nosey Flynn answered.
+
+--Well, what'll it be? Paddy Leonard asked.
+
+--I'll take a stone ginger, Bantam Lyons said.
+
+--How much? Paddy Leonard cried. Since when, for God' sake? What's
+yours, Tom?
+
+--How is the main drainage? Nosey Flynn asked, sipping.
+
+For answer Tom Rochford pressed his hand to his breastbone and
+hiccupped.
+
+--Would I trouble you for a glass of fresh water, Mr Byrne? he said.
+
+--Certainly, sir.
+
+Paddy Leonard eyed his alemates.
+
+--Lord love a duck, he said. Look at what I'm standing drinks to! Cold
+water and gingerpop! Two fellows that would suck whisky off a sore leg.
+He has some bloody horse up his sleeve for the Gold cup. A dead snip.
+
+--Zinfandel is it? Nosey Flynn asked.
+
+Tom Rochford spilt powder from a twisted paper into the water set before
+him.
+
+--That cursed dyspepsia, he said before drinking.
+
+--Breadsoda is very good, Davy Byrne said.
+
+Tom Rochford nodded and drank.
+
+--Is it Zinfandel?
+
+--Say nothing! Bantam Lyons winked. I'm going to plunge five bob on my
+own.
+
+--Tell us if you're worth your salt and be damned to you, Paddy Leonard
+said. Who gave it to you?
+
+Mr Bloom on his way out raised three fingers in greeting.
+
+--So long! Nosey Flynn said.
+
+The others turned.
+
+--That's the man now that gave it to me, Bantam Lyons whispered.
+
+--Prrwht! Paddy Leonard said with scorn. Mr Byrne, sir, we'll take two
+of your small Jamesons after that and a...
+
+--Stone ginger, Davy Byrne added civilly.
+
+--Ay, Paddy Leonard said. A suckingbottle for the baby.
+
+Mr Bloom walked towards Dawson street, his tongue brushing his teeth
+smooth. Something green it would have to be: spinach, say. Then with
+those Rontgen rays searchlight you could.
+
+At Duke lane a ravenous terrier choked up a sick knuckly cud on the
+cobblestones and lapped it with new zest. Surfeit. Returned with thanks
+having fully digested the contents. First sweet then savoury. Mr Bloom
+coasted warily. Ruminants. His second course. Their upper jaw they move.
+Wonder if Tom Rochford will do anything with that invention of his?
+Wasting time explaining it to Flynn's mouth. Lean people long mouths.
+Ought to be a hall or a place where inventors could go in and invent
+free. Course then you'd have all the cranks pestering.
+
+He hummed, prolonging in solemn echo the closes of the bars:
+
+_Don Giovanni, a cenar teco M'invitasti._
+
+Feel better. Burgundy. Good pick me up. Who distilled first? Some chap
+in the blues. Dutch courage. That _Kilkenny People_ in the national
+library now I must.
+
+Bare clean closestools waiting in the window of William Miller, plumber,
+turned back his thoughts. They could: and watch it all the way down,
+swallow a pin sometimes come out of the ribs years after, tour round the
+body changing biliary duct spleen squirting liver gastric juice coils of
+intestines like pipes. But the poor buffer would have to stand all the
+time with his insides entrails on show. Science.
+
+--_A cenar teco._
+
+What does that _teco_ mean? Tonight perhaps.
+
+ _Don Giovanni, thou hast me invited
+ To come to supper tonight,
+ The rum the rumdum._
+
+Doesn't go properly.
+
+Keyes: two months if I get Nannetti to. That'll be two pounds ten about
+two pounds eight. Three Hynes owes me. Two eleven. Prescott's dyeworks
+van over there. If I get Billy Prescott's ad: two fifteen. Five guineas
+about. On the pig's back.
+
+Could buy one of those silk petticoats for Molly, colour of her new
+garters.
+
+Today. Today. Not think.
+
+Tour the south then. What about English wateringplaces? Brighton,
+Margate. Piers by moonlight. Her voice floating out. Those lovely
+seaside girls. Against John Long's a drowsing loafer lounged in heavy
+thought, gnawing a crusted knuckle. Handy man wants job. Small wages.
+Will eat anything.
+
+Mr Bloom turned at Gray's confectioner's window of unbought tarts and
+passed the reverend Thomas Connellan's bookstore. _Why I left the church
+of Rome? Birds' Nest._ Women run him. They say they used to give pauper
+children soup to change to protestants in the time of the potato blight.
+Society over the way papa went to for the conversion of poor jews. Same
+bait. Why we left the church of Rome.
+
+A blind stripling stood tapping the curbstone with his slender cane. No
+tram in sight. Wants to cross.
+
+--Do you want to cross? Mr Bloom asked.
+
+The blind stripling did not answer. His wallface frowned weakly. He
+moved his head uncertainly.
+
+--You're in Dawson street, Mr Bloom said. Molesworth street is opposite.
+Do you want to cross? There's nothing in the way.
+
+The cane moved out trembling to the left. Mr Bloom's eye followed its
+line and saw again the dyeworks' van drawn up before Drago's. Where I
+saw his brillantined hair just when I was. Horse drooping. Driver in
+John Long's. Slaking his drouth.
+
+--There's a van there, Mr Bloom said, but it's not moving. I'll see you
+across. Do you want to go to Molesworth street?
+
+--Yes, the stripling answered. South Frederick street.
+
+--Come, Mr Bloom said.
+
+He touched the thin elbow gently: then took the limp seeing hand to
+guide it forward.
+
+Say something to him. Better not do the condescending. They mistrust
+what you tell them. Pass a common remark.
+
+--The rain kept off.
+
+No answer.
+
+Stains on his coat. Slobbers his food, I suppose. Tastes all different
+for him. Have to be spoonfed first. Like a child's hand, his hand. Like
+Milly's was. Sensitive. Sizing me up I daresay from my hand. Wonder
+if he has a name. Van. Keep his cane clear of the horse's legs: tired
+drudge get his doze. That's right. Clear. Behind a bull: in front of a
+horse.
+
+--Thanks, sir.
+
+Knows I'm a man. Voice.
+
+--Right now? First turn to the left.
+
+The blind stripling tapped the curbstone and went on his way, drawing
+his cane back, feeling again.
+
+Mr Bloom walked behind the eyeless feet, a flatcut suit of herringbone
+tweed. Poor young fellow! How on earth did he know that van was there?
+Must have felt it. See things in their forehead perhaps: kind of sense
+of volume. Weight or size of it, something blacker than the dark. Wonder
+would he feel it if something was removed. Feel a gap. Queer idea of
+Dublin he must have, tapping his way round by the stones. Could he walk
+in a beeline if he hadn't that cane? Bloodless pious face like a fellow
+going in to be a priest.
+
+Penrose! That was that chap's name.
+
+Look at all the things they can learn to do. Read with their fingers.
+Tune pianos. Or we are surprised they have any brains. Why we think a
+deformed person or a hunchback clever if he says something we might say.
+Of course the other senses are more. Embroider. Plait baskets. People
+ought to help. Workbasket I could buy for Molly's birthday. Hates
+sewing. Might take an objection. Dark men they call them.
+
+Sense of smell must be stronger too. Smells on all sides, bunched
+together. Each street different smell. Each person too. Then the spring,
+the summer: smells. Tastes? They say you can't taste wines with your
+eyes shut or a cold in the head. Also smoke in the dark they say get no
+pleasure.
+
+And with a woman, for instance. More shameless not seeing. That girl
+passing the Stewart institution, head in the air. Look at me. I have
+them all on. Must be strange not to see her. Kind of a form in his
+mind's eye. The voice, temperatures: when he touches her with his
+fingers must almost see the lines, the curves. His hands on her hair,
+for instance. Say it was black, for instance. Good. We call it black.
+Then passing over her white skin. Different feel perhaps. Feeling of
+white.
+
+Postoffice. Must answer. Fag today. Send her a postal order two
+shillings, half a crown. Accept my little present. Stationer's just here
+too. Wait. Think over it.
+
+With a gentle finger he felt ever so slowly the hair combed back above
+his ears. Again. Fibres of fine fine straw. Then gently his finger felt
+the skin of his right cheek. Downy hair there too. Not smooth enough.
+The belly is the smoothest. No-one about. There he goes into Frederick
+street. Perhaps to Levenston's dancing academy piano. Might be settling
+my braces.
+
+Walking by Doran's publichouse he slid his hand between his waistcoat
+and trousers and, pulling aside his shirt gently, felt a slack fold of
+his belly. But I know it's whitey yellow. Want to try in the dark to
+see.
+
+He withdrew his hand and pulled his dress to.
+
+Poor fellow! Quite a boy. Terrible. Really terrible. What dreams would
+he have, not seeing? Life a dream for him. Where is the justice being
+born that way? All those women and children excursion beanfeast burned
+and drowned in New York. Holocaust. Karma they call that transmigration
+for sins you did in a past life the reincarnation met him pike hoses.
+Dear, dear, dear. Pity, of course: but somehow you can't cotton on to
+them someway.
+
+Sir Frederick Falkiner going into the freemasons' hall. Solemn as Troy.
+After his good lunch in Earlsfort terrace. Old legal cronies cracking
+a magnum. Tales of the bench and assizes and annals of the bluecoat
+school. I sentenced him to ten years. I suppose he'd turn up his nose
+at that stuff I drank. Vintage wine for them, the year marked on a
+dusty bottle. Has his own ideas of justice in the recorder's court.
+Wellmeaning old man. Police chargesheets crammed with cases get their
+percentage manufacturing crime. Sends them to the rightabout. The devil
+on moneylenders. Gave Reuben J. a great strawcalling. Now he's really
+what they call a dirty jew. Power those judges have. Crusty old topers
+in wigs. Bear with a sore paw. And may the Lord have mercy on your soul.
+
+Hello, placard. Mirus bazaar. His Excellency the lord lieutenant.
+Sixteenth. Today it is. In aid of funds for Mercer's hospital. _The
+Messiah_ was first given for that. Yes. Handel. What about going out
+there: Ballsbridge. Drop in on Keyes. No use sticking to him like a
+leech. Wear out my welcome. Sure to know someone on the gate.
+
+Mr Bloom came to Kildare street. First I must. Library.
+
+Straw hat in sunlight. Tan shoes. Turnedup trousers. It is. It is.
+
+His heart quopped softly. To the right. Museum. Goddesses. He swerved to
+the right.
+
+Is it? Almost certain. Won't look. Wine in my face. Why did I? Too
+heady. Yes, it is. The walk. Not see. Get on.
+
+Making for the museum gate with long windy steps he lifted his eyes.
+Handsome building. Sir Thomas Deane designed. Not following me?
+
+Didn't see me perhaps. Light in his eyes.
+
+The flutter of his breath came forth in short sighs. Quick. Cold
+statues: quiet there. Safe in a minute.
+
+No. Didn't see me. After two. Just at the gate.
+
+My heart!
+
+His eyes beating looked steadfastly at cream curves of stone. Sir Thomas
+Deane was the Greek architecture.
+
+Look for something I.
+
+His hasty hand went quick into a pocket, took out, read unfolded
+Agendath Netaim. Where did I?
+
+Busy looking.
+
+He thrust back quick Agendath.
+
+Afternoon she said.
+
+I am looking for that. Yes, that. Try all pockets. Handker. _Freeman._
+Where did I? Ah, yes. Trousers. Potato. Purse. Where?
+
+Hurry. Walk quietly. Moment more. My heart.
+
+His hand looking for the where did I put found in his hip pocket soap
+lotion have to call tepid paper stuck. Ah soap there I yes. Gate.
+
+Safe!
+
+
+Urbane, to comfort them, the quaker librarian purred:
+
+
+--And we have, have we not, those priceless pages of _Wilhelm Meister_.
+A great poet on a great brother poet. A hesitating soul taking arms
+against a sea of troubles, torn by conflicting doubts, as one sees in
+real life.
+
+He came a step a sinkapace forward on neatsleather creaking and a step
+backward a sinkapace on the solemn floor.
+
+A noiseless attendant setting open the door but slightly made him a
+noiseless beck.
+
+--Directly, said he, creaking to go, albeit lingering. The beautiful
+ineffectual dreamer who comes to grief against hard facts. One always
+feels that Goethe's judgments are so true. True in the larger analysis.
+
+Twicreakingly analysis he corantoed off. Bald, most zealous by the door
+he gave his large ear all to the attendant's words: heard them: and was
+gone.
+
+Two left.
+
+--Monsieur de la Palice, Stephen sneered, was alive fifteen minutes
+before his death.
+
+--Have you found those six brave medicals, John Eglinton asked with
+elder's gall, to write _Paradise Lost_ at your dictation? _The Sorrows
+of Satan_ he calls it.
+
+Smile. Smile Cranly's smile.
+
+ _First he tickled her
+ Then he patted her
+ Then he passed the female catheter.
+ For he was a medical
+ Jolly old medi..._
+
+--I feel you would need one more for _Hamlet._ Seven is dear to the
+mystic mind. The shining seven W.B. calls them.
+
+Glittereyed his rufous skull close to his greencapped desklamp sought
+the face bearded amid darkgreener shadow, an ollav, holyeyed. He laughed
+low: a sizar's laugh of Trinity: unanswered.
+
+ _Orchestral Satan, weeping many a rood
+ Tears such as angels weep.
+ Ed egli avea del cul fatto trombetta._
+
+He holds my follies hostage.
+
+Cranly's eleven true Wicklowmen to free their sireland. Gaptoothed
+Kathleen, her four beautiful green fields, the stranger in her house.
+And one more to hail him: _ave, rabbi_: the Tinahely twelve. In the
+shadow of the glen he cooees for them. My soul's youth I gave him, night
+by night. God speed. Good hunting.
+
+Mulligan has my telegram.
+
+Folly. Persist.
+
+--Our young Irish bards, John Eglinton censured, have yet to create a
+figure which the world will set beside Saxon Shakespeare's Hamlet though
+I admire him, as old Ben did, on this side idolatry.
+
+--All these questions are purely academic, Russell oracled out of his
+shadow. I mean, whether Hamlet is Shakespeare or James I or Essex.
+Clergymen's discussions of the historicity of Jesus. Art has to reveal
+to us ideas, formless spiritual essences. The supreme question about a
+work of art is out of how deep a life does it spring. The painting of
+Gustave Moreau is the painting of ideas. The deepest poetry of Shelley,
+the words of Hamlet bring our minds into contact with the eternal
+wisdom, Plato's world of ideas. All the rest is the speculation of
+schoolboys for schoolboys.
+
+A. E. has been telling some yankee interviewer. Wall, tarnation strike
+me!
+
+--The schoolmen were schoolboys first, Stephen said superpolitely.
+Aristotle was once Plato's schoolboy.
+
+--And has remained so, one should hope, John Eglinton sedately said. One
+can see him, a model schoolboy with his diploma under his arm.
+
+He laughed again at the now smiling bearded face.
+
+Formless spiritual. Father, Word and Holy Breath. Allfather, the
+heavenly man. Hiesos Kristos, magician of the beautiful, the Logos who
+suffers in us at every moment. This verily is that. I am the fire upon
+the altar. I am the sacrificial butter.
+
+Dunlop, Judge, the noblest Roman of them all, A.E., Arval, the Name
+Ineffable, in heaven hight: K.H., their master, whose identity is no
+secret to adepts. Brothers of the great white lodge always watching
+to see if they can help. The Christ with the bridesister, moisture of
+light, born of an ensouled virgin, repentant sophia, departed to the
+plane of buddhi. The life esoteric is not for ordinary person. O.P.
+must work off bad karma first. Mrs Cooper Oakley once glimpsed our very
+illustrious sister H.P.B.'s elemental.
+
+O, fie! Out on't! _Pfuiteufel!_ You naughtn't to look, missus, so you
+naughtn't when a lady's ashowing of her elemental.
+
+Mr Best entered, tall, young, mild, light. He bore in his hand with
+grace a notebook, new, large, clean, bright.
+
+--That model schoolboy, Stephen said, would find Hamlet's musings about
+the afterlife of his princely soul, the improbable, insignificant and
+undramatic monologue, as shallow as Plato's.
+
+John Eglinton, frowning, said, waxing wroth:
+
+--Upon my word it makes my blood boil to hear anyone compare Aristotle
+with Plato.
+
+--Which of the two, Stephen asked, would have banished me from his
+commonwealth?
+
+Unsheathe your dagger definitions. Horseness is the whatness of
+allhorse. Streams of tendency and eons they worship. God: noise in the
+street: very peripatetic. Space: what you damn well have to see. Through
+spaces smaller than red globules of man's blood they creepycrawl after
+Blake's buttocks into eternity of which this vegetable world is but a
+shadow. Hold to the now, the here, through which all future plunges to
+the past.
+
+Mr Best came forward, amiable, towards his colleague.
+
+--Haines is gone, he said.
+
+--Is he?
+
+--I was showing him Jubainville's book. He's quite enthusiastic, don't
+you know, about Hyde's _Lovesongs of Connacht._ I couldn't bring him in
+to hear the discussion. He's gone to Gill's to buy it.
+
+ _Bound thee forth, my booklet, quick
+ To greet the callous public.
+ Writ, I ween, 'twas not my wish
+ In lean unlovely English._
+
+--The peatsmoke is going to his head, John Eglinton opined.
+
+We feel in England. Penitent thief. Gone. I smoked his baccy. Green
+twinkling stone. An emerald set in the ring of the sea.
+
+--People do not know how dangerous lovesongs can be, the auric egg of
+Russell warned occultly. The movements which work revolutions in the
+world are born out of the dreams and visions in a peasant's heart on the
+hillside. For them the earth is not an exploitable ground but the
+living mother. The rarefied air of the academy and the arena produce the
+sixshilling novel, the musichall song. France produces the finest flower
+of corruption in Mallarme but the desirable life is revealed only to the
+poor of heart, the life of Homer's Phaeacians.
+
+From these words Mr Best turned an unoffending face to Stephen.
+
+--Mallarme, don't you know, he said, has written those wonderful prose
+poems Stephen MacKenna used to read to me in Paris. The one about
+_Hamlet._ He says: _il se promène, lisant au livre de lui-même_, don't
+you know, _reading the book of himself_. He describes _Hamlet_ given in
+a French town, don't you know, a provincial town. They advertised it.
+
+His free hand graciously wrote tiny signs in air.
+
+ _HAMLET
+ ou
+ LE DISTRAIT
+ Pièce de Shakespeare_
+
+He repeated to John Eglinton's newgathered frown:
+
+--_Pièce de Shakespeare_, don't you know. It's so French. The French
+point of view. _Hamlet ou_...
+
+--The absentminded beggar, Stephen ended.
+
+John Eglinton laughed.
+
+--Yes, I suppose it would be, he said. Excellent people, no doubt, but
+distressingly shortsighted in some matters.
+
+Sumptuous and stagnant exaggeration of murder.
+
+--A deathsman of the soul Robert Greene called him, Stephen said. Not
+for nothing was he a butcher's son, wielding the sledded poleaxe and
+spitting in his palms. Nine lives are taken off for his father's one.
+Our Father who art in purgatory. Khaki Hamlets don't hesitate to
+shoot. The bloodboltered shambles in act five is a forecast of the
+concentration camp sung by Mr Swinburne.
+
+Cranly, I his mute orderly, following battles from afar.
+
+_Whelps and dams of murderous foes whom none But we had spared..._
+
+Between the Saxon smile and yankee yawp. The devil and the deep sea.
+
+--He will have it that _Hamlet_ is a ghoststory, John Eglinton said
+for Mr Best's behoof. Like the fat boy in Pickwick he wants to make our
+flesh creep.
+
+_List! List! O List!_
+
+My flesh hears him: creeping, hears.
+
+_If thou didst ever..._
+
+--What is a ghost? Stephen said with tingling energy. One who has faded
+into impalpability through death, through absence, through change of
+manners. Elizabethan London lay as far from Stratford as corrupt Paris
+lies from virgin Dublin. Who is the ghost from _limbo patrum_, returning
+to the world that has forgotten him? Who is King Hamlet?
+
+John Eglinton shifted his spare body, leaning back to judge.
+
+Lifted.
+
+--It is this hour of a day in mid June, Stephen said, begging with
+a swift glance their hearing. The flag is up on the playhouse by the
+bankside. The bear Sackerson growls in the pit near it, Paris garden.
+Canvasclimbers who sailed with Drake chew their sausages among the
+groundlings.
+
+Local colour. Work in all you know. Make them accomplices.
+
+--Shakespeare has left the huguenot's house in Silver street and walks
+by the swanmews along the riverbank. But he does not stay to feed the
+pen chivying her game of cygnets towards the rushes. The swan of Avon
+has other thoughts.
+
+Composition of place. Ignatius Loyola, make haste to help me!
+
+--The play begins. A player comes on under the shadow, made up in the
+castoff mail of a court buck, a wellset man with a bass voice. It is the
+ghost, the king, a king and no king, and the player is Shakespeare who
+has studied _Hamlet_ all the years of his life which were not vanity in
+order to play the part of the spectre. He speaks the words to Burbage,
+the young player who stands before him beyond the rack of cerecloth,
+calling him by a name:
+
+_Hamlet, I am thy father's spirit,_
+
+bidding him list. To a son he speaks, the son of his soul, the prince,
+young Hamlet and to the son of his body, Hamnet Shakespeare, who has
+died in Stratford that his namesake may live for ever.
+
+Is it possible that that player Shakespeare, a ghost by absence, and in
+the vesture of buried Denmark, a ghost by death, speaking his own words
+to his own son's name (had Hamnet Shakespeare lived he would have been
+prince Hamlet's twin), is it possible, I want to know, or probable that
+he did not draw or foresee the logical conclusion of those premises: you
+are the dispossessed son: I am the murdered father: your mother is the
+guilty queen, Ann Shakespeare, born Hathaway?
+
+--But this prying into the family life of a great man, Russell began
+impatiently.
+
+Art thou there, truepenny?
+
+--Interesting only to the parish clerk. I mean, we have the plays. I
+mean when we read the poetry of _King Lear_ what is it to us how the
+poet lived? As for living our servants can do that for us, Villiers de
+l'Isle has said. Peeping and prying into greenroom gossip of the day,
+the poet's drinking, the poet's debts. We have _King Lear_: and it is
+immortal.
+
+Mr Best's face, appealed to, agreed.
+
+_Flow over them with your waves and with your waters, Mananaan, Mananaan
+MacLir..._
+
+How now, sirrah, that pound he lent you when you were hungry?
+
+Marry, I wanted it.
+
+Take thou this noble.
+
+Go to! You spent most of it in Georgina Johnson's bed, clergyman's
+daughter. Agenbite of inwit.
+
+Do you intend to pay it back?
+
+O, yes.
+
+When? Now?
+
+Well... No.
+
+When, then?
+
+I paid my way. I paid my way.
+
+Steady on. He's from beyant Boyne water. The northeast corner. You owe
+it.
+
+Wait. Five months. Molecules all change. I am other I now. Other I got
+pound.
+
+Buzz. Buzz.
+
+But I, entelechy, form of forms, am I by memory because under
+everchanging forms.
+
+I that sinned and prayed and fasted.
+
+A child Conmee saved from pandies.
+
+I, I and I. I.
+
+A.E.I.O.U.
+
+--Do you mean to fly in the face of the tradition of three centuries?
+John Eglinton's carping voice asked. Her ghost at least has been laid
+for ever. She died, for literature at least, before she was born.
+
+--She died, Stephen retorted, sixtyseven years after she was born. She
+saw him into and out of the world. She took his first embraces. She bore
+his children and she laid pennies on his eyes to keep his eyelids closed
+when he lay on his deathbed.
+
+Mother's deathbed. Candle. The sheeted mirror. Who brought me into
+this world lies there, bronzelidded, under few cheap flowers. _Liliata
+rutilantium._
+
+I wept alone.
+
+John Eglinton looked in the tangled glowworm of his lamp.
+
+--The world believes that Shakespeare made a mistake, he said, and got
+out of it as quickly and as best he could.
+
+--Bosh! Stephen said rudely. A man of genius makes no mistakes. His
+errors are volitional and are the portals of discovery.
+
+Portals of discovery opened to let in the quaker librarian,
+softcreakfooted, bald, eared and assiduous.
+
+--A shrew, John Eglinton said shrewdly, is not a useful portal of
+discovery, one should imagine. What useful discovery did Socrates learn
+from Xanthippe?
+
+--Dialectic, Stephen answered: and from his mother how to bring thoughts
+into the world. What he learnt from his other wife Myrto (_absit
+nomen!_), Socratididion's Epipsychidion, no man, not a woman, will ever
+know. But neither the midwife's lore nor the caudlelectures saved him
+from the archons of Sinn Fein and their naggin of hemlock.
+
+--But Ann Hathaway? Mr Best's quiet voice said forgetfully. Yes, we seem
+to be forgetting her as Shakespeare himself forgot her.
+
+His look went from brooder's beard to carper's skull, to remind, to
+chide them not unkindly, then to the baldpink lollard costard, guiltless
+though maligned.
+
+--He had a good groatsworth of wit, Stephen said, and no truant memory.
+He carried a memory in his wallet as he trudged to Romeville whistling
+_The girl I left behind me._ If the earthquake did not time it we should
+know where to place poor Wat, sitting in his form, the cry of hounds,
+the studded bridle and her blue windows. That memory, _Venus and
+Adonis_, lay in the bedchamber of every light-of-love in London.
+Is Katharine the shrew illfavoured? Hortensio calls her young and
+beautiful. Do you think the writer of _Antony and Cleopatra_, a
+passionate pilgrim, had his eyes in the back of his head that he chose
+the ugliest doxy in all Warwickshire to lie withal? Good: he left her
+and gained the world of men. But his boywomen are the women of a boy.
+Their life, thought, speech are lent them by males. He chose badly? He
+was chosen, it seems to me. If others have their will Ann hath a way.
+By cock, she was to blame. She put the comether on him, sweet and
+twentysix. The greyeyed goddess who bends over the boy Adonis, stooping
+to conquer, as prologue to the swelling act, is a boldfaced Stratford
+wench who tumbles in a cornfield a lover younger than herself.
+
+And my turn? When?
+
+Come!
+
+--Ryefield, Mr Best said brightly, gladly, raising his new book, gladly,
+brightly.
+
+He murmured then with blond delight for all:
+
+_Between the acres of the rye These pretty countryfolk would lie._
+
+Paris: the wellpleased pleaser.
+
+A tall figure in bearded homespun rose from shadow and unveiled its
+cooperative watch.
+
+--I am afraid I am due at the _Homestead._
+
+Whither away? Exploitable ground.
+
+--Are you going? John Eglinton's active eyebrows asked. Shall we see you
+at Moore's tonight? Piper is coming.
+
+--Piper! Mr Best piped. Is Piper back?
+
+Peter Piper pecked a peck of pick of peck of pickled pepper.
+
+--I don't know if I can. Thursday. We have our meeting. If I can get
+away in time.
+
+Yogibogeybox in Dawson chambers. _Isis Unveiled._ Their Pali book we
+tried to pawn. Crosslegged under an umbrel umbershoot he thrones an
+Aztec logos, functioning on astral levels, their oversoul, mahamahatma.
+The faithful hermetists await the light, ripe for chelaship,
+ringroundabout him. Louis H. Victory. T. Caulfield Irwin. Lotus ladies
+tend them i'the eyes, their pineal glands aglow. Filled with his god,
+he thrones, Buddh under plantain. Gulfer of souls, engulfer. Hesouls,
+shesouls, shoals of souls. Engulfed with wailing creecries, whirled,
+whirling, they bewail.
+
+ _In quintessential triviality
+ For years in this fleshcase a shesoul dwelt._
+
+--They say we are to have a literary surprise, the quaker librarian
+said, friendly and earnest. Mr Russell, rumour has it, is gathering
+together a sheaf of our younger poets' verses. We are all looking
+forward anxiously.
+
+Anxiously he glanced in the cone of lamplight where three faces,
+lighted, shone.
+
+See this. Remember.
+
+Stephen looked down on a wide headless caubeen, hung on his
+ashplanthandle over his knee. My casque and sword. Touch lightly with
+two index fingers. Aristotle's experiment. One or two? Necessity is that
+in virtue of which it is impossible that one can be otherwise. Argal,
+one hat is one hat.
+
+Listen.
+
+Young Colum and Starkey. George Roberts is doing the commercial part.
+Longworth will give it a good puff in the _Express._ O, will he? I liked
+Colum's _Drover._ Yes, I think he has that queer thing genius. Do you
+think he has genius really? Yeats admired his line: _As in wild earth
+a Grecian vase_. Did he? I hope you'll be able to come tonight. Malachi
+Mulligan is coming too. Moore asked him to bring Haines. Did you hear
+Miss Mitchell's joke about Moore and Martyn? That Moore is Martyn's
+wild oats? Awfully clever, isn't it? They remind one of Don Quixote and
+Sancho Panza. Our national epic has yet to be written, Dr Sigerson says.
+Moore is the man for it. A knight of the rueful countenance here in
+Dublin. With a saffron kilt? O'Neill Russell? O, yes, he must speak the
+grand old tongue. And his Dulcinea? James Stephens is doing some clever
+sketches. We are becoming important, it seems.
+
+Cordelia. _Cordoglio._ Lir's loneliest daughter.
+
+Nookshotten. Now your best French polish.
+
+--Thank you very much, Mr Russell, Stephen said, rising. If you will be
+so kind as to give the letter to Mr Norman...
+
+--O, yes. If he considers it important it will go in. We have so much
+correspondence.
+
+--I understand, Stephen said. Thanks.
+
+God ild you. The pigs' paper. Bullockbefriending.
+
+Synge has promised me an article for _Dana_ too. Are we going to be
+read? I feel we are. The Gaelic league wants something in Irish. I hope
+you will come round tonight. Bring Starkey.
+
+Stephen sat down.
+
+The quaker librarian came from the leavetakers. Blushing, his mask said:
+
+--Mr Dedalus, your views are most illuminating.
+
+He creaked to and fro, tiptoing up nearer heaven by the altitude of a
+chopine, and, covered by the noise of outgoing, said low:
+
+--Is it your view, then, that she was not faithful to the poet?
+
+Alarmed face asks me. Why did he come? Courtesy or an inward light?
+
+--Where there is a reconciliation, Stephen said, there must have been
+first a sundering.
+
+--Yes.
+
+Christfox in leather trews, hiding, a runaway in blighted treeforks,
+from hue and cry. Knowing no vixen, walking lonely in the chase. Women
+he won to him, tender people, a whore of Babylon, ladies of justices,
+bully tapsters' wives. Fox and geese. And in New Place a slack
+dishonoured body that once was comely, once as sweet, as fresh as
+cinnamon, now her leaves falling, all, bare, frighted of the narrow
+grave and unforgiven.
+
+--Yes. So you think...
+
+The door closed behind the outgoer.
+
+Rest suddenly possessed the discreet vaulted cell, rest of warm and
+brooding air.
+
+A vestal's lamp.
+
+Here he ponders things that were not: what Caesar would have lived to do
+had he believed the soothsayer: what might have been: possibilities of
+the possible as possible: things not known: what name Achilles bore when
+he lived among women.
+
+Coffined thoughts around me, in mummycases, embalmed in spice of words.
+Thoth, god of libraries, a birdgod, moonycrowned. And I heard the
+voice of that Egyptian highpriest. _In painted chambers loaded with
+tilebooks._
+
+They are still. Once quick in the brains of men. Still: but an itch of
+death is in them, to tell me in my ear a maudlin tale, urge me to wreak
+their will.
+
+--Certainly, John Eglinton mused, of all great men he is the most
+enigmatic. We know nothing but that he lived and suffered. Not even so
+much. Others abide our question. A shadow hangs over all the rest.
+
+--But _Hamlet_ is so personal, isn't it? Mr Best pleaded. I mean, a kind
+of private paper, don't you know, of his private life. I mean, I don't
+care a button, don't you know, who is killed or who is guilty...
+
+He rested an innocent book on the edge of the desk, smiling his
+defiance. His private papers in the original. _Ta an bad ar an tir. Taim
+in mo shagart_. Put beurla on it, littlejohn.
+
+Quoth littlejohn Eglinton:
+
+--I was prepared for paradoxes from what Malachi Mulligan told us but
+I may as well warn you that if you want to shake my belief that
+Shakespeare is Hamlet you have a stern task before you.
+
+Bear with me.
+
+Stephen withstood the bane of miscreant eyes glinting stern under
+wrinkled brows. A basilisk. _E quando vede l'uomo l'attosca_. Messer
+Brunetto, I thank thee for the word.
+
+--As we, or mother Dana, weave and unweave our bodies, Stephen said,
+from day to day, their molecules shuttled to and fro, so does the artist
+weave and unweave his image. And as the mole on my right breast is where
+it was when I was born, though all my body has been woven of new stuff
+time after time, so through the ghost of the unquiet father the image
+of the unliving son looks forth. In the intense instant of imagination,
+when the mind, Shelley says, is a fading coal, that which I was is that
+which I am and that which in possibility I may come to be. So in the
+future, the sister of the past, I may see myself as I sit here now but
+by reflection from that which then I shall be.
+
+Drummond of Hawthornden helped you at that stile.
+
+--Yes, Mr Best said youngly. I feel Hamlet quite young. The bitterness
+might be from the father but the passages with Ophelia are surely from
+the son.
+
+Has the wrong sow by the lug. He is in my father. I am in his son.
+
+--That mole is the last to go, Stephen said, laughing.
+
+John Eglinton made a nothing pleasing mow.
+
+--If that were the birthmark of genius, he said, genius would be a
+drug in the market. The plays of Shakespeare's later years which Renan
+admired so much breathe another spirit.
+
+--The spirit of reconciliation, the quaker librarian breathed.
+
+--There can be no reconciliation, Stephen said, if there has not been a
+sundering.
+
+Said that.
+
+--If you want to know what are the events which cast their shadow over
+the hell of time of _King Lear, Othello, Hamlet, Troilus and Cressida,_
+look to see when and how the shadow lifts. What softens the heart of a
+man, shipwrecked in storms dire, Tried, like another Ulysses, Pericles,
+prince of Tyre?
+
+Head, redconecapped, buffeted, brineblinded.
+
+--A child, a girl, placed in his arms, Marina.
+
+--The leaning of sophists towards the bypaths of apocrypha is a constant
+quantity, John Eglinton detected. The highroads are dreary but they lead
+to the town.
+
+Good Bacon: gone musty. Shakespeare Bacon's wild oats. Cypherjugglers
+going the highroads. Seekers on the great quest. What town, good
+masters? Mummed in names: A. E., eon: Magee, John Eglinton. East of the
+sun, west of the moon: _Tir na n-og_. Booted the twain and staved.
+
+_How many miles to Dublin? Three score and ten, sir. Will we be there by
+candlelight?_
+
+--Mr Brandes accepts it, Stephen said, as the first play of the closing
+period.
+
+--Does he? What does Mr Sidney Lee, or Mr Simon Lazarus as some aver his
+name is, say of it?
+
+--Marina, Stephen said, a child of storm, Miranda, a wonder, Perdita,
+that which was lost. What was lost is given back to him: his daughter's
+child. _My dearest wife_, Pericles says, _was like this maid._ Will any
+man love the daughter if he has not loved the mother?
+
+--The art of being a grandfather, Mr Best gan murmur. _l'art d'être
+grand_...
+
+--Will he not see reborn in her, with the memory of his own youth added,
+another image?
+
+Do you know what you are talking about? Love, yes. Word known to all
+men. Amor vero aliquid alicui bonum vult unde et ea quae concupiscimus
+...
+
+--His own image to a man with that queer thing genius is the standard of
+all experience, material and moral. Such an appeal will touch him. The
+images of other males of his blood will repel him. He will see in them
+grotesque attempts of nature to foretell or to repeat himself.
+
+The benign forehead of the quaker librarian enkindled rosily with hope.
+
+--I hope Mr Dedalus will work out his theory for the enlightenment of
+the public. And we ought to mention another Irish commentator, Mr George
+Bernard Shaw. Nor should we forget Mr Frank Harris. His articles on
+Shakespeare in the _Saturday Review_ were surely brilliant. Oddly
+enough he too draws for us an unhappy relation with the dark lady of the
+sonnets. The favoured rival is William Herbert, earl of Pembroke. I own
+that if the poet must be rejected such a rejection would seem more in
+harmony with--what shall I say?--our notions of what ought not to have
+been.
+
+Felicitously he ceased and held a meek head among them, auk's egg, prize
+of their fray.
+
+He thous and thees her with grave husbandwords. Dost love, Miriam? Dost
+love thy man?
+
+--That may be too, Stephen said. There's a saying of Goethe's which Mr
+Magee likes to quote. Beware of what you wish for in youth because
+you will get it in middle life. Why does he send to one who is
+a _buonaroba,_ a bay where all men ride, a maid of honour with a
+scandalous girlhood, a lordling to woo for him? He was himself a lord
+of language and had made himself a coistrel gentleman and he had written
+_Romeo and Juliet_. Why? Belief in himself has been untimely killed. He
+was overborne in a cornfield first (ryefield, I should say) and he will
+never be a victor in his own eyes after nor play victoriously the game
+of laugh and lie down. Assumed dongiovannism will not save him. No later
+undoing will undo the first undoing. The tusk of the boar has wounded
+him there where love lies ableeding. If the shrew is worsted yet there
+remains to her woman's invisible weapon. There is, I feel in the words,
+some goad of the flesh driving him into a new passion, a darker shadow
+of the first, darkening even his own understanding of himself. A like
+fate awaits him and the two rages commingle in a whirlpool.
+
+They list. And in the porches of their ears I pour.
+
+--The soul has been before stricken mortally, a poison poured in the
+porch of a sleeping ear. But those who are done to death in sleep cannot
+know the manner of their quell unless their Creator endow their souls
+with that knowledge in the life to come. The poisoning and the beast
+with two backs that urged it King Hamlet's ghost could not know of were
+he not endowed with knowledge by his creator. That is why the speech
+(his lean unlovely English) is always turned elsewhere, backward.
+Ravisher and ravished, what he would but would not, go with him from
+Lucrece's bluecircled ivory globes to Imogen's breast, bare, with its
+mole cinquespotted. He goes back, weary of the creation he has piled up
+to hide him from himself, an old dog licking an old sore. But, because
+loss is his gain, he passes on towards eternity in undiminished
+personality, untaught by the wisdom he has written or by the laws he
+has revealed. His beaver is up. He is a ghost, a shadow now, the wind by
+Elsinore's rocks or what you will, the sea's voice, a voice heard
+only in the heart of him who is the substance of his shadow, the son
+consubstantial with the father.
+
+--Amen! was responded from the doorway.
+
+Hast thou found me, O mine enemy?
+
+_Entr'acte_.
+
+A ribald face, sullen as a dean's, Buck Mulligan came forward, then
+blithe in motley, towards the greeting of their smiles. My telegram.
+
+--You were speaking of the gaseous vertebrate, if I mistake not? he
+asked of Stephen.
+
+Primrosevested he greeted gaily with his doffed Panama as with a bauble.
+
+They make him welcome. _Was Du verlachst wirst Du noch dienen._
+
+Brood of mockers: Photius, pseudomalachi, Johann Most.
+
+He Who Himself begot middler the Holy Ghost and Himself sent Himself,
+Agenbuyer, between Himself and others, Who, put upon by His fiends,
+stripped and whipped, was nailed like bat to barndoor, starved on
+crosstree, Who let Him bury, stood up, harrowed hell, fared into heaven
+and there these nineteen hundred years sitteth on the right hand of His
+Own Self but yet shall come in the latter day to doom the quick and dead
+when all the quick shall be dead already.
+
+Glo--o--ri--a in ex--cel--sis De--o.
+
+He lifts his hands. Veils fall. O, flowers! Bells with bells with bells
+aquiring.
+
+--Yes, indeed, the quaker librarian said. A most instructive discussion.
+Mr Mulligan, I'll be bound, has his theory too of the play and of
+Shakespeare. All sides of life should be represented.
+
+He smiled on all sides equally.
+
+Buck Mulligan thought, puzzled:
+
+--Shakespeare? he said. I seem to know the name.
+
+A flying sunny smile rayed in his loose features.
+
+--To be sure, he said, remembering brightly. The chap that writes like
+Synge.
+
+Mr Best turned to him.
+
+--Haines missed you, he said. Did you meet him? He'll see you after at
+the D. B. C. He's gone to Gill's to buy Hyde's _Lovesongs of Connacht_.
+
+--I came through the museum, Buck Mulligan said. Was he here?
+
+--The bard's fellowcountrymen, John Eglinton answered, are rather tired
+perhaps of our brilliancies of theorising. I hear that an actress played
+Hamlet for the fourhundredandeighth time last night in Dublin. Vining
+held that the prince was a woman. Has no-one made him out to be an
+Irishman? Judge Barton, I believe, is searching for some clues. He
+swears (His Highness not His Lordship) by saint Patrick.
+
+--The most brilliant of all is that story of Wilde's, Mr Best said,
+lifting his brilliant notebook. That _Portrait of Mr W. H._ where he
+proves that the sonnets were written by a Willie Hughes, a man all hues.
+
+--For Willie Hughes, is it not? the quaker librarian asked.
+
+Or Hughie Wills? Mr William Himself. W. H.: who am I?
+
+--I mean, for Willie Hughes, Mr Best said, amending his gloss easily. Of
+course it's all paradox, don't you know, Hughes and hews and hues,
+the colour, but it's so typical the way he works it out. It's the very
+essence of Wilde, don't you know. The light touch.
+
+His glance touched their faces lightly as he smiled, a blond ephebe.
+Tame essence of Wilde.
+
+You're darned witty. Three drams of usquebaugh you drank with Dan
+Deasy's ducats.
+
+How much did I spend? O, a few shillings.
+
+For a plump of pressmen. Humour wet and dry.
+
+Wit. You would give your five wits for youth's proud livery he pranks
+in. Lineaments of gratified desire.
+
+There be many mo. Take her for me. In pairing time. Jove, a cool ruttime
+send them. Yea, turtledove her.
+
+Eve. Naked wheatbellied sin. A snake coils her, fang in's kiss.
+
+--Do you think it is only a paradox? the quaker librarian was asking.
+The mocker is never taken seriously when he is most serious.
+
+They talked seriously of mocker's seriousness.
+
+Buck Mulligan's again heavy face eyed Stephen awhile. Then, his head
+wagging, he came near, drew a folded telegram from his pocket. His
+mobile lips read, smiling with new delight.
+
+--Telegram! he said. Wonderful inspiration! Telegram! A papal bull!
+
+He sat on a corner of the unlit desk, reading aloud joyfully:
+
+--_The sentimentalist is he who would enjoy without incurring the
+immense debtorship for a thing done._ Signed: Dedalus. Where did you
+launch it from? The kips? No. College Green. Have you drunk the four
+quid? The aunt is going to call on your unsubstantial father. Telegram!
+Malachi Mulligan, The Ship, lower Abbey street. O, you peerless mummer!
+O, you priestified Kinchite!
+
+Joyfully he thrust message and envelope into a pocket but keened in a
+querulous brogue:
+
+--It's what I'm telling you, mister honey, it's queer and sick we were,
+Haines and myself, the time himself brought it in. 'Twas murmur we did
+for a gallus potion would rouse a friar, I'm thinking, and he limp with
+leching. And we one hour and two hours and three hours in Connery's
+sitting civil waiting for pints apiece.
+
+He wailed:
+
+--And we to be there, mavrone, and you to be unbeknownst sending us your
+conglomerations the way we to have our tongues out a yard long like the
+drouthy clerics do be fainting for a pussful.
+
+Stephen laughed.
+
+Quickly, warningfully Buck Mulligan bent down.
+
+--The tramper Synge is looking for you, he said, to murder you. He
+heard you pissed on his halldoor in Glasthule. He's out in pampooties to
+murder you.
+
+--Me! Stephen exclaimed. That was your contribution to literature.
+
+Buck Mulligan gleefully bent back, laughing to the dark eavesdropping
+ceiling.
+
+--Murder you! he laughed.
+
+Harsh gargoyle face that warred against me over our mess of hash
+of lights in rue Saint-André-des-Arts. In words of words for words,
+palabras. Oisin with Patrick. Faunman he met in Clamart woods,
+brandishing a winebottle. _C'est vendredi saint!_ Murthering Irish. His
+image, wandering, he met. I mine. I met a fool i'the forest.
+
+--Mr Lyster, an attendant said from the door ajar.
+
+--... in which everyone can find his own. So Mr Justice Madden in his
+_Diary of Master William Silence_ has found the hunting terms... Yes?
+What is it?
+
+--There's a gentleman here, sir, the attendant said, coming forward and
+offering a card. From the _Freeman._ He wants to see the files of the
+_Kilkenny People_ for last year.
+
+--Certainly, certainly, certainly. Is the gentleman?...
+
+He took the eager card, glanced, not saw, laid down unglanced, looked,
+asked, creaked, asked:
+
+--Is he?... O, there!
+
+Brisk in a galliard he was off, out. In the daylit corridor he talked
+with voluble pains of zeal, in duty bound, most fair, most kind, most
+honest broadbrim.
+
+--This gentleman? _Freeman's Journal? Kilkenny People?_ To be sure. Good
+day, sir. _Kilkenny_... We have certainly...
+
+A patient silhouette waited, listening.
+
+--All the leading provincial... _Northern Whig, Cork Examiner,
+Enniscorthy Guardian,_ 1903... Will you please?... Evans, conduct this
+gentleman... If you just follow the atten... Or, please allow me...
+This way... Please, sir...
+
+Voluble, dutiful, he led the way to all the provincial papers, a bowing
+dark figure following his hasty heels.
+
+The door closed.
+
+--The sheeny! Buck Mulligan cried.
+
+He jumped up and snatched the card.
+
+--What's his name? Ikey Moses? Bloom.
+
+He rattled on:
+
+--Jehovah, collector of prepuces, is no more. I found him over in the
+museum where I went to hail the foamborn Aphrodite. The Greek mouth that
+has never been twisted in prayer. Every day we must do homage to her.
+_Life of life, thy lips enkindle._
+
+Suddenly he turned to Stephen:
+
+--He knows you. He knows your old fellow. O, I fear me, he is Greeker
+than the Greeks. His pale Galilean eyes were upon her mesial groove.
+Venus Kallipyge. O, the thunder of those loins! _The god pursuing the
+maiden hid_.
+
+--We want to hear more, John Eglinton decided with Mr Best's approval.
+We begin to be interested in Mrs S. Till now we had thought of her, if
+at all, as a patient Griselda, a Penelope stayathome.
+
+--Antisthenes, pupil of Gorgias, Stephen said, took the palm of beauty
+from Kyrios Menelaus' brooddam, Argive Helen, the wooden mare of Troy
+in whom a score of heroes slept, and handed it to poor Penelope. Twenty
+years he lived in London and, during part of that time, he drew a salary
+equal to that of the lord chancellor of Ireland. His life was rich. His
+art, more than the art of feudalism as Walt Whitman called it, is the
+art of surfeit. Hot herringpies, green mugs of sack, honeysauces, sugar
+of roses, marchpane, gooseberried pigeons, ringocandies. Sir Walter
+Raleigh, when they arrested him, had half a million francs on his
+back including a pair of fancy stays. The gombeenwoman Eliza Tudor had
+underlinen enough to vie with her of Sheba. Twenty years he dallied
+there between conjugial love and its chaste delights and scortatory love
+and its foul pleasures. You know Manningham's story of the burgher's
+wife who bade Dick Burbage to her bed after she had seen him in _Richard
+III_ and how Shakespeare, overhearing, without more ado about nothing,
+took the cow by the horns and, when Burbage came knocking at the gate,
+answered from the capon's blankets: _William the conqueror came before
+Richard III_. And the gay lakin, mistress Fitton, mount and cry O,
+and his dainty birdsnies, lady Penelope Rich, a clean quality woman is
+suited for a player, and the punks of the bankside, a penny a time.
+
+Cours la Reine. _Encore vingt sous. Nous ferons de petites cochonneries.
+Minette? Tu veux?_
+
+--The height of fine society. And sir William Davenant of oxford's
+mother with her cup of canary for any cockcanary.
+
+Buck Mulligan, his pious eyes upturned, prayed:
+
+--Blessed Margaret Mary Anycock!
+
+--And Harry of six wives' daughter. And other lady friends from
+neighbour seats as Lawn Tennyson, gentleman poet, sings. But all those
+twenty years what do you suppose poor Penelope in Stratford was doing
+behind the diamond panes?
+
+Do and do. Thing done. In a rosery of Fetter lane of Gerard, herbalist,
+he walks, greyedauburn. An azured harebell like her veins. Lids of
+Juno's eyes, violets. He walks. One life is all. One body. Do. But do.
+Afar, in a reek of lust and squalor, hands are laid on whiteness.
+
+Buck Mulligan rapped John Eglinton's desk sharply.
+
+--Whom do you suspect? he challenged.
+
+--Say that he is the spurned lover in the sonnets. Once spurned twice
+spurned. But the court wanton spurned him for a lord, his dearmylove.
+
+Love that dare not speak its name.
+
+--As an Englishman, you mean, John sturdy Eglinton put in, he loved a
+lord.
+
+Old wall where sudden lizards flash. At Charenton I watched them.
+
+--It seems so, Stephen said, when he wants to do for him, and for all
+other and singular uneared wombs, the holy office an ostler does for the
+stallion. Maybe, like Socrates, he had a midwife to mother as he had a
+shrew to wife. But she, the giglot wanton, did not break a bedvow. Two
+deeds are rank in that ghost's mind: a broken vow and the dullbrained
+yokel on whom her favour has declined, deceased husband's brother. Sweet
+Ann, I take it, was hot in the blood. Once a wooer, twice a wooer.
+
+Stephen turned boldly in his chair.
+
+--The burden of proof is with you not with me, he said frowning. If you
+deny that in the fifth scene of _Hamlet_ he has branded her with infamy
+tell me why there is no mention of her during the thirtyfour years
+between the day she married him and the day she buried him. All those
+women saw their men down and under: Mary, her goodman John, Ann, her
+poor dear Willun, when he went and died on her, raging that he was the
+first to go, Joan, her four brothers, Judith, her husband and all her
+sons, Susan, her husband too, while Susan's daughter, Elizabeth, to use
+granddaddy's words, wed her second, having killed her first.
+
+O, yes, mention there is. In the years when he was living richly in
+royal London to pay a debt she had to borrow forty shillings from her
+father's shepherd. Explain you then. Explain the swansong too wherein he
+has commended her to posterity.
+
+He faced their silence.
+
+ To whom thus Eglinton:
+ You mean the will.
+ But that has been explained, I believe, by jurists.
+ She was entitled to her widow's dower
+ At common law. His legal knowledge was great
+ Our judges tell us.
+ Him Satan fleers,
+ Mocker:
+ And therefore he left out her name
+ From the first draft but he did not leave out
+ The presents for his granddaughter, for his daughters,
+ For his sister, for his old cronies in Stratford
+ And in London. And therefore when he was urged,
+ As I believe, to name her
+ He left her his
+ Secondbest
+ Bed.
+ _Punkt._
+ Leftherhis
+ Secondbest
+ Leftherhis
+ Bestabed
+ Secabest
+ Leftabed.
+
+
+Woa!
+
+--Pretty countryfolk had few chattels then, John Eglinton observed, as
+they have still if our peasant plays are true to type.
+
+--He was a rich country gentleman, Stephen said, with a coat of arms
+and landed estate at Stratford and a house in Ireland yard, a capitalist
+shareholder, a bill promoter, a tithefarmer. Why did he not leave her
+his best bed if he wished her to snore away the rest of her nights in
+peace?
+
+--It is clear that there were two beds, a best and a secondbest, Mr
+Secondbest Best said finely.
+
+--_Separatio a mensa et a thalamo_, bettered Buck Mulligan and was
+smiled on.
+
+--Antiquity mentions famous beds, Second Eglinton puckered, bedsmiling.
+Let me think.
+
+--Antiquity mentions that Stagyrite schoolurchin and bald heathen sage,
+Stephen said, who when dying in exile frees and endows his slaves, pays
+tribute to his elders, wills to be laid in earth near the bones of his
+dead wife and bids his friends be kind to an old mistress (don't forget
+Nell Gwynn Herpyllis) and let her live in his villa.
+
+--Do you mean he died so? Mr Best asked with slight concern. I mean...
+
+--He died dead drunk, Buck Mulligan capped. A quart of ale is a dish for
+a king. O, I must tell you what Dowden said!
+
+--What? asked Besteglinton.
+
+William Shakespeare and company, limited. The people's William. For
+terms apply: E. Dowden, Highfield house...
+
+--Lovely! Buck Mulligan suspired amorously. I asked him what he thought
+of the charge of pederasty brought against the bard. He lifted his hands
+and said: _All we can say is that life ran very high in those days._
+Lovely!
+
+Catamite.
+
+--The sense of beauty leads us astray, said beautifulinsadness Best to
+ugling Eglinton.
+
+Steadfast John replied severe:
+
+--The doctor can tell us what those words mean. You cannot eat your cake
+and have it.
+
+Sayest thou so? Will they wrest from us, from me, the palm of beauty?
+
+--And the sense of property, Stephen said. He drew Shylock out of his
+own long pocket. The son of a maltjobber and moneylender he was himself
+a cornjobber and moneylender, with ten tods of corn hoarded in the
+famine riots. His borrowers are no doubt those divers of worship
+mentioned by Chettle Falstaff who reported his uprightness of dealing.
+He sued a fellowplayer for the price of a few bags of malt and exacted
+his pound of flesh in interest for every money lent. How else could
+Aubrey's ostler and callboy get rich quick? All events brought grist to
+his mill. Shylock chimes with the jewbaiting that followed the hanging
+and quartering of the queen's leech Lopez, his jew's heart being plucked
+forth while the sheeny was yet alive: _Hamlet_ and _Macbeth_ with
+the coming to the throne of a Scotch philosophaster with a turn for
+witchroasting. The lost armada is his jeer in _Love's Labour Lost_.
+His pageants, the histories, sail fullbellied on a tide of Mafeking
+enthusiasm. Warwickshire jesuits are tried and we have a porter's theory
+of equivocation. The _Sea Venture_ comes home from Bermudas and the play
+Renan admired is written with Patsy Caliban, our American cousin.
+The sugared sonnets follow Sidney's. As for fay Elizabeth, otherwise
+carrotty Bess, the gross virgin who inspired _The Merry Wives of
+Windsor_, let some meinherr from Almany grope his life long for deephid
+meanings in the depths of the buckbasket.
+
+I think you're getting on very nicely. Just mix up a mixture of
+theolologicophilolological. _Mingo, minxi, mictum, mingere._
+
+--Prove that he was a jew, John Eglinton dared,'expectantly. Your dean
+of studies holds he was a holy Roman.
+
+_Sufflaminandus sum._
+
+--He was made in Germany, Stephen replied, as the champion French
+polisher of Italian scandals.
+
+--A myriadminded man, Mr Best reminded. Coleridge called him
+myriadminded.
+
+_Amplius. In societate humana hoc est maxime necessarium ut sit amicitia
+inter multos._
+
+--Saint Thomas, Stephen began...
+
+--_Ora pro nobis_, Monk Mulligan groaned, sinking to a chair.
+
+There he keened a wailing rune.
+
+--_Pogue mahone! Acushla machree!_ It's destroyed we are from this day!
+It's destroyed we are surely!
+
+All smiled their smiles.
+
+--Saint Thomas, Stephen smiling said, whose gorbellied works I enjoy
+reading in the original, writing of incest from a standpoint different
+from that of the new Viennese school Mr Magee spoke of, likens it in his
+wise and curious way to an avarice of the emotions. He means that the
+love so given to one near in blood is covetously withheld from some
+stranger who, it may be, hungers for it. Jews, whom christians tax with
+avarice, are of all races the most given to intermarriage. Accusations
+are made in anger. The christian laws which built up the hoards of the
+jews (for whom, as for the lollards, storm was shelter) bound their
+affections too with hoops of steel. Whether these be sins or virtues old
+Nobodaddy will tell us at doomsday leet. But a man who holds so tightly
+to what he calls his rights over what he calls his debts will hold
+tightly also to what he calls his rights over her whom he calls his
+wife. No sir smile neighbour shall covet his ox or his wife or his
+manservant or his maidservant or his jackass.
+
+--Or his jennyass, Buck Mulligan antiphoned.
+
+--Gentle Will is being roughly handled, gentle Mr Best said gently.
+
+--Which will? gagged sweetly Buck Mulligan. We are getting mixed.
+
+--The will to live, John Eglinton philosophised, for poor Ann, Will's
+widow, is the will to die.
+
+_--Requiescat!_ Stephen prayed.
+
+ _What of all the will to do?
+ It has vanished long ago..._
+
+--She lies laid out in stark stiffness in that secondbest bed, the
+mobled queen, even though you prove that a bed in those days was as
+rare as a motorcar is now and that its carvings were the wonder of seven
+parishes. In old age she takes up with gospellers (one stayed with her
+at New Place and drank a quart of sack the town council paid for but in
+which bed he slept it skills not to ask) and heard she had a soul. She
+read or had read to her his chapbooks preferring them to the _Merry
+Wives_ and, loosing her nightly waters on the jordan, she thought
+over _Hooks and Eyes for Believers' Breeches_ and _The most Spiritual
+Snuffbox to Make the Most Devout Souls Sneeze_. Venus has twisted her
+lips in prayer. Agenbite of inwit: remorse of conscience. It is an age
+of exhausted whoredom groping for its god.
+
+--History shows that to be true, _inquit Eglintonus Chronolologos_. The
+ages succeed one another. But we have it on high authority that a man's
+worst enemies shall be those of his own house and family. I feel that
+Russell is right. What do we care for his wife or father? I should say
+that only family poets have family lives. Falstaff was not a family man.
+I feel that the fat knight is his supreme creation.
+
+Lean, he lay back. Shy, deny thy kindred, the unco guid. Shy, supping
+with the godless, he sneaks the cup. A sire in Ultonian Antrim bade it
+him. Visits him here on quarter days. Mr Magee, sir, there's a gentleman
+to see you. Me? Says he's your father, sir. Give me my Wordsworth. Enter
+Magee Mor Matthew, a rugged rough rugheaded kern, in strossers with
+a buttoned codpiece, his nether stocks bemired with clauber of ten
+forests, a wand of wilding in his hand.
+
+Your own? He knows your old fellow. The widower.
+
+Hurrying to her squalid deathlair from gay Paris on the quayside I
+touched his hand. The voice, new warmth, speaking. Dr Bob Kenny is
+attending her. The eyes that wish me well. But do not know me.
+
+--A father, Stephen said, battling against hopelessness, is a necessary
+evil. He wrote the play in the months that followed his father's death.
+If you hold that he, a greying man with two marriageable daughters, with
+thirtyfive years of life, _nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita_, with
+fifty of experience, is the beardless undergraduate from Wittenberg then
+you must hold that his seventyyear old mother is the lustful queen. No.
+The corpse of John Shakespeare does not walk the night. From hour to
+hour it rots and rots. He rests, disarmed of fatherhood, having devised
+that mystical estate upon his son. Boccaccio's Calandrino was the first
+and last man who felt himself with child. Fatherhood, in the sense of
+conscious begetting, is unknown to man. It is a mystical estate, an
+apostolic succession, from only begetter to only begotten. On that
+mystery and not on the madonna which the cunning Italian intellect
+flung to the mob of Europe the church is founded and founded irremovably
+because founded, like the world, macro and microcosm, upon the void.
+Upon incertitude, upon unlikelihood. _Amor matris_, subjective and
+objective genitive, may be the only true thing in life. Paternity may be
+a legal fiction. Who is the father of any son that any son should love
+him or he any son?
+
+What the hell are you driving at?
+
+I know. Shut up. Blast you. I have reasons.
+
+_Amplius. Adhuc. Iterum. Postea._
+
+Are you condemned to do this?
+
+--They are sundered by a bodily shame so steadfast that the criminal
+annals of the world, stained with all other incests and bestialities,
+hardly record its breach. Sons with mothers, sires with daughters,
+lesbic sisters, loves that dare not speak their name, nephews with
+grandmothers, jailbirds with keyholes, queens with prize bulls. The son
+unborn mars beauty: born, he brings pain, divides affection, increases
+care. He is a new male: his growth is his father's decline, his youth
+his father's envy, his friend his father's enemy.
+
+In rue Monsieur-le-Prince I thought it.
+
+--What links them in nature? An instant of blind rut.
+
+Am I a father? If I were?
+
+Shrunken uncertain hand.
+
+--Sabellius, the African, subtlest heresiarch of all the beasts of the
+field, held that the Father was Himself His Own Son. The bulldog of
+Aquin, with whom no word shall be impossible, refutes him. Well: if
+the father who has not a son be not a father can the son who has not a
+father be a son? When Rutlandbaconsouthamptonshakespeare or another poet
+of the same name in the comedy of errors wrote _Hamlet_ he was not the
+father of his own son merely but, being no more a son, he was and felt
+himself the father of all his race, the father of his own grandfather,
+the father of his unborn grandson who, by the same token, never was
+born, for nature, as Mr Magee understands her, abhors perfection.
+
+Eglintoneyes, quick with pleasure, looked up shybrightly. Gladly
+glancing, a merry puritan, through the twisted eglantine.
+
+Flatter. Rarely. But flatter.
+
+--Himself his own father, Sonmulligan told himself. Wait. I am big with
+child. I have an unborn child in my brain. Pallas Athena! A play! The
+play's the thing! Let me parturiate!
+
+He clasped his paunchbrow with both birthaiding hands.
+
+--As for his family, Stephen said, his mother's name lives in the
+forest of Arden. Her death brought from him the scene with Volumnia in
+_Coriolanus._ His boyson's death is the deathscene of young Arthur in
+_King John._ Hamlet, the black prince, is Hamnet Shakespeare. Who the
+girls in _The Tempest_, in _Pericles,_ in _Winter's Tale_ are we know.
+Who Cleopatra, fleshpot of Egypt, and Cressid and Venus are we may
+guess. But there is another member of his family who is recorded.
+
+--The plot thickens, John Eglinton said.
+
+The quaker librarian, quaking, tiptoed in, quake, his mask, quake, with
+haste, quake, quack.
+
+Door closed. Cell. Day.
+
+They list. Three. They.
+
+I you he they.
+
+Come, mess.
+
+STEPHEN: He had three brothers, Gilbert, Edmund, Richard. Gilbert in his
+old age told some cavaliers he got a pass for nowt from Maister Gatherer
+one time mass he did and he seen his brud Maister Wull the playwriter up
+in Lunnon in a wrastling play wud a man on's back. The playhouse sausage
+filled Gilbert's soul. He is nowhere: but an Edmund and a Richard are
+recorded in the works of sweet William.
+
+MAGEEGLINJOHN: Names! What's in a name?
+
+BEST: That is my name, Richard, don't you know. I hope you are going to
+say a good word for Richard, don't you know, for my sake. _(Laughter)_
+
+
+BUCKMULLIGAN: (_Piano, diminuendo_)
+
+ _Then outspoke medical Dick
+ To his comrade medical Davy..._
+
+STEPHEN: In his trinity of black Wills, the villain shakebags, Iago,
+Richard Crookback, Edmund in _King Lear_, two bear the wicked uncles'
+names. Nay, that last play was written or being written while his
+brother Edmund lay dying in Southwark.
+
+BEST: I hope Edmund is going to catch it. I don't want Richard, my name
+...
+
+_(Laughter)_
+
+QUAKERLYSTER: (_A tempo_) But he that filches from me my good name...
+
+STEPHEN: _(Stringendo)_ He has hidden his own name, a fair name,
+William, in the plays, a super here, a clown there, as a painter of old
+Italy set his face in a dark corner of his canvas. He has revealed it in
+the sonnets where there is Will in overplus. Like John o'Gaunt his name
+is dear to him, as dear as the coat and crest he toadied for, on a bend
+sable a spear or steeled argent, honorificabilitudinitatibus, dearer
+than his glory of greatest shakescene in the country. What's in a name?
+That is what we ask ourselves in childhood when we write the name that
+we are told is ours. A star, a daystar, a firedrake, rose at his birth.
+It shone by day in the heavens alone, brighter than Venus in the
+night, and by night it shone over delta in Cassiopeia, the recumbent
+constellation which is the signature of his initial among the stars. His
+eyes watched it, lowlying on the horizon, eastward of the bear, as
+he walked by the slumberous summer fields at midnight returning from
+Shottery and from her arms.
+
+Both satisfied. I too.
+
+Don't tell them he was nine years old when it was quenched.
+
+And from her arms.
+
+Wait to be wooed and won. Ay, meacock. Who will woo you?
+
+Read the skies. _Autontimorumenos. Bous Stephanoumenos._ Where's your
+configuration? Stephen, Stephen, cut the bread even. S. D: _sua donna.
+Già : di lui. gelindo risolve di non amare_ S. D.
+
+--What is that, Mr Dedalus? the quaker librarian asked. Was it a
+celestial phenomenon?
+
+--A star by night, Stephen said. A pillar of the cloud by day.
+
+What more's to speak?
+
+Stephen looked on his hat, his stick, his boots.
+
+_Stephanos,_ my crown. My sword. His boots are spoiling the shape of my
+feet. Buy a pair. Holes in my socks. Handkerchief too.
+
+--You make good use of the name, John Eglinton allowed. Your own name is
+strange enough. I suppose it explains your fantastical humour.
+
+Me, Magee and Mulligan.
+
+Fabulous artificer. The hawklike man. You flew. Whereto?
+Newhaven-Dieppe, steerage passenger. Paris and back. Lapwing. Icarus.
+_Pater, ait._ Seabedabbled, fallen, weltering. Lapwing you are. Lapwing
+be.
+
+Mr Best eagerquietly lifted his book to say:
+
+--That's very interesting because that brother motive, don't you know,
+we find also in the old Irish myths. Just what you say. The three
+brothers Shakespeare. In Grimm too, don't you know, the fairytales. The
+third brother that always marries the sleeping beauty and wins the best
+prize.
+
+Best of Best brothers. Good, better, best.
+
+The quaker librarian springhalted near.
+
+--I should like to know, he said, which brother you... I understand you
+to suggest there was misconduct with one of the brothers... But perhaps
+I am anticipating?
+
+He caught himself in the act: looked at all: refrained.
+
+An attendant from the doorway called:
+
+--Mr Lyster! Father Dineen wants...
+
+--O, Father Dineen! Directly.
+
+Swiftly rectly creaking rectly rectly he was rectly gone.
+
+John Eglinton touched the foil.
+
+--Come, he said. Let us hear what you have to say of Richard and Edmund.
+You kept them for the last, didn't you?
+
+--In asking you to remember those two noble kinsmen nuncle Richie and
+nuncle Edmund, Stephen answered, I feel I am asking too much perhaps. A
+brother is as easily forgotten as an umbrella.
+
+Lapwing.
+
+Where is your brother? Apothecaries' hall. My whetstone. Him, then
+Cranly, Mulligan: now these. Speech, speech. But act. Act speech. They
+mock to try you. Act. Be acted on.
+
+Lapwing.
+
+I am tired of my voice, the voice of Esau. My kingdom for a drink.
+
+On.
+
+--You will say those names were already in the chronicles from which he
+took the stuff of his plays. Why did he take them rather than others?
+Richard, a whoreson crookback, misbegotten, makes love to a widowed Ann
+(what's in a name?), woos and wins her, a whoreson merry widow. Richard
+the conqueror, third brother, came after William the conquered. The
+other four acts of that play hang limply from that first. Of all his
+kings Richard is the only king unshielded by Shakespeare's reverence,
+the angel of the world. Why is the underplot of _King Lear_ in which
+Edmund figures lifted out of Sidney's _Arcadia_ and spatchcocked on to a
+Celtic legend older than history?
+
+--That was Will's way, John Eglinton defended. We should not now combine
+a Norse saga with an excerpt from a novel by George Meredith. _Que
+voulez-vous?_ Moore would say. He puts Bohemia on the seacoast and makes
+Ulysses quote Aristotle.
+
+--Why? Stephen answered himself. Because the theme of the false or
+the usurping or the adulterous brother or all three in one is to
+Shakespeare, what the poor are not, always with him. The note of
+banishment, banishment from the heart, banishment from home, sounds
+uninterruptedly from _The Two Gentlemen of Verona_ onward till Prospero
+breaks his staff, buries it certain fathoms in the earth and drowns his
+book. It doubles itself in the middle of his life, reflects itself in
+another, repeats itself, protasis, epitasis, catastasis, catastrophe.
+It repeats itself again when he is near the grave, when his married
+daughter Susan, chip of the old block, is accused of adultery. But it
+was the original sin that darkened his understanding, weakened his will
+and left in him a strong inclination to evil. The words are those of
+my lords bishops of Maynooth. An original sin and, like original sin,
+committed by another in whose sin he too has sinned. It is between the
+lines of his last written words, it is petrified on his tombstone under
+which her four bones are not to be laid. Age has not withered it. Beauty
+and peace have not done it away. It is in infinite variety everywhere in
+the world he has created, in _Much Ado about Nothing_, twice in _As you
+like It_, in _The Tempest_, in _Hamlet,_ in _Measure for Measure_--and
+in all the other plays which I have not read.
+
+He laughed to free his mind from his mind's bondage.
+
+Judge Eglinton summed up.
+
+--The truth is midway, he affirmed. He is the ghost and the prince. He
+is all in all.
+
+--He is, Stephen said. The boy of act one is the mature man of act five.
+All in all. In _Cymbeline,_ in _Othello_ he is bawd and cuckold. He acts
+and is acted on. Lover of an ideal or a perversion, like Jose he
+kills the real Carmen. His unremitting intellect is the hornmad Iago
+ceaselessly willing that the moor in him shall suffer.
+
+--Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuck Mulligan clucked lewdly. O word of fear!
+
+Dark dome received, reverbed.
+
+--And what a character is Iago! undaunted John Eglinton exclaimed. When
+all is said Dumas _fils_ (or is it Dumas _père?)_ is right. After God
+Shakespeare has created most.
+
+--Man delights him not nor woman neither, Stephen said. He returns after
+a life of absence to that spot of earth where he was born, where he has
+always been, man and boy, a silent witness and there, his journey of
+life ended, he plants his mulberrytree in the earth. Then dies. The
+motion is ended. Gravediggers bury Hamlet _(père?)_ and Hamlet _fils._
+A king and a prince at last in death, with incidental music. And, what
+though murdered and betrayed, bewept by all frail tender hearts for,
+Dane or Dubliner, sorrow for the dead is the only husband from whom
+they refuse to be divorced. If you like the epilogue look long on it:
+prosperous Prospero, the good man rewarded, Lizzie, grandpa's lump of
+love, and nuncle Richie, the bad man taken off by poetic justice to the
+place where the bad niggers go. Strong curtain. He found in the world
+without as actual what was in his world within as possible. Maeterlinck
+says: _If Socrates leave his house today he will find the sage seated
+on his doorstep. If Judas go forth tonight it is to Judas his steps
+will tend._ Every life is many days, day after day. We walk through
+ourselves, meeting robbers, ghosts, giants, old men, young men, wives,
+widows, brothers-in-love, but always meeting ourselves. The playwright
+who wrote the folio of this world and wrote it badly (He gave us light
+first and the sun two days later), the lord of things as they are whom
+the most Roman of catholics call _dio boia_, hangman god, is doubtless
+all in all in all of us, ostler and butcher, and would be bawd and
+cuckold too but that in the economy of heaven, foretold by Hamlet, there
+are no more marriages, glorified man, an androgynous angel, being a wife
+unto himself.
+
+_--Eureka!_ Buck Mulligan cried. _Eureka!_
+
+Suddenly happied he jumped up and reached in a stride John Eglinton's
+desk.
+
+--May I? he said. The Lord has spoken to Malachi.
+
+He began to scribble on a slip of paper.
+
+Take some slips from the counter going out.
+
+--Those who are married, Mr Best, douce herald, said, all save one,
+shall live. The rest shall keep as they are.
+
+He laughed, unmarried, at Eglinton Johannes, of arts a bachelor.
+
+Unwed, unfancied, ware of wiles, they fingerponder nightly each his
+variorum edition of _The Taming of the Shrew._
+
+--You are a delusion, said roundly John Eglinton to Stephen. You have
+brought us all this way to show us a French triangle. Do you believe
+your own theory?
+
+--No, Stephen said promptly.
+
+--Are you going to write it? Mr Best asked. You ought to make it a
+dialogue, don't you know, like the Platonic dialogues Wilde wrote.
+
+John Eclecticon doubly smiled.
+
+--Well, in that case, he said, I don't see why you should expect payment
+for it since you don't believe it yourself. Dowden believes there is
+some mystery in _Hamlet_ but will say no more. Herr Bleibtreu, the man
+Piper met in Berlin, who is working up that Rutland theory, believes
+that the secret is hidden in the Stratford monument. He is going to
+visit the present duke, Piper says, and prove to him that his ancestor
+wrote the plays. It will come as a surprise to his grace. But he
+believes his theory.
+
+I believe, O Lord, help my unbelief. That is, help me to believe or help
+me to unbelieve? Who helps to believe? _Egomen._ Who to unbelieve? Other
+chap.
+
+--You are the only contributor to _Dana_ who asks for pieces of silver.
+Then I don't know about the next number. Fred Ryan wants space for an
+article on economics.
+
+Fraidrine. Two pieces of silver he lent me. Tide you over. Economics.
+
+--For a guinea, Stephen said, you can publish this interview.
+
+Buck Mulligan stood up from his laughing scribbling, laughing: and then
+gravely said, honeying malice:
+
+--I called upon the bard Kinch at his summer residence in upper
+Mecklenburgh street and found him deep in the study of the _Summa contra
+Gentiles_ in the company of two gonorrheal ladies, Fresh Nelly and
+Rosalie, the coalquay whore.
+
+He broke away.
+
+--Come, Kinch. Come, wandering Aengus of the birds.
+
+Come, Kinch. You have eaten all we left. Ay. I will serve you your orts
+and offals.
+
+Stephen rose.
+
+Life is many days. This will end.
+
+--We shall see you tonight, John Eglinton said. _Notre ami_ Moore says
+Malachi Mulligan must be there.
+
+Buck Mulligan flaunted his slip and panama.
+
+--Monsieur Moore, he said, lecturer on French letters to the youth of
+Ireland. I'll be there. Come, Kinch, the bards must drink. Can you walk
+straight?
+
+Laughing, he...
+
+Swill till eleven. Irish nights entertainment.
+
+Lubber...
+
+Stephen followed a lubber...
+
+One day in the national library we had a discussion. Shakes. After. His
+lub back: I followed. I gall his kibe.
+
+Stephen, greeting, then all amort, followed a lubber jester, a wellkempt
+head, newbarbered, out of the vaulted cell into a shattering daylight of
+no thought.
+
+What have I learned? Of them? Of me?
+
+Walk like Haines now.
+
+The constant readers' room. In the readers' book Cashel Boyle O'Connor
+Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell parafes his polysyllables. Item: was Hamlet
+mad? The quaker's pate godlily with a priesteen in booktalk.
+
+--O please do, sir... I shall be most pleased...
+
+Amused Buck Mulligan mused in pleasant murmur with himself, selfnodding:
+
+--A pleased bottom.
+
+The turnstile.
+
+Is that?... Blueribboned hat... Idly writing... What? Looked?...
+
+The curving balustrade: smoothsliding Mincius.
+
+Puck Mulligan, panamahelmeted, went step by step, iambing, trolling:
+
+_John Eglinton, my jo, John, Why won't you wed a wife?_
+
+He spluttered to the air:
+
+--O, the chinless Chinaman! Chin Chon Eg Lin Ton. We went over to their
+playbox, Haines and I, the plumbers' hall. Our players are creating a
+new art for Europe like the Greeks or M. Maeterlinck. Abbey Theatre! I
+smell the pubic sweat of monks.
+
+He spat blank.
+
+Forgot: any more than he forgot the whipping lousy Lucy gave him. And
+left the _femme de trente ans._ And why no other children born? And his
+first child a girl?
+
+Afterwit. Go back.
+
+The dour recluse still there (he has his cake) and the douce youngling,
+minion of pleasure, Phedo's toyable fair hair.
+
+Eh... I just eh... wanted... I forgot... he...
+
+--Longworth and M'Curdy Atkinson were there...
+
+Puck Mulligan footed featly, trilling:
+
+ _I hardly hear the purlieu cry
+ Or a tommy talk as I pass one by
+ Before my thoughts begin to run
+ On F. M'Curdy Atkinson,
+ The same that had the wooden leg
+ And that filibustering filibeg
+ That never dared to slake his drouth,
+ Magee that had the chinless mouth.
+ Being afraid to marry on earth
+ They masturbated for all they were worth._
+
+
+Jest on. Know thyself.
+
+Halted, below me, a quizzer looks at me. I halt.
+
+--Mournful mummer, Buck Mulligan moaned. Synge has left off wearing
+black to be like nature. Only crows, priests and English coal are black.
+
+A laugh tripped over his lips.
+
+--Longworth is awfully sick, he said, after what you wrote about that
+old hake Gregory. O you inquisitional drunken jewjesuit! She gets you
+a job on the paper and then you go and slate her drivel to Jaysus.
+Couldn't you do the Yeats touch?
+
+He went on and down, mopping, chanting with waving graceful arms:
+
+--The most beautiful book that has come out of our country in my time.
+One thinks of Homer.
+
+He stopped at the stairfoot.
+
+--I have conceived a play for the mummers, he said solemnly.
+
+The pillared Moorish hall, shadows entwined. Gone the nine men's morrice
+with caps of indices.
+
+In sweetly varying voices Buck Mulligan read his tablet: _Everyman His
+own Wife or A Honeymoon in the Hand (a national immorality in three
+orgasms) by Ballocky Mulligan._
+
+
+He turned a happy patch's smirk to Stephen, saying:
+
+--The disguise, I fear, is thin. But listen.
+
+He read, _marcato:_
+
+--Characters:
+
+ TODY TOSTOFF (a ruined Pole)
+ CRAB (a bushranger)
+ MEDICAL DICK )
+ and ) (two birds with one stone)
+ MEDICAL DAVY )
+ MOTHER GROGAN (a watercarrier)
+ FRESH NELLY
+ and
+ ROSALIE (the coalquay whore).
+
+He laughed, lolling a to and fro head, walking on, followed by Stephen:
+and mirthfully he told the shadows, souls of men:
+
+--O, the night in the Camden hall when the daughters of Erin had to
+lift their skirts to step over you as you lay in your mulberrycoloured,
+multicoloured, multitudinous vomit!
+
+--The most innocent son of Erin, Stephen said, for whom they ever lifted
+them.
+
+About to pass through the doorway, feeling one behind, he stood aside.
+
+Part. The moment is now. Where then? If Socrates leave his house today,
+if Judas go forth tonight. Why? That lies in space which I in time must
+come to, ineluctably.
+
+My will: his will that fronts me. Seas between.
+
+A man passed out between them, bowing, greeting.
+
+--Good day again, Buck Mulligan said.
+
+The portico.
+
+Here I watched the birds for augury. Aengus of the birds. They go, they
+come. Last night I flew. Easily flew. Men wondered. Street of harlots
+after. A creamfruit melon he held to me. In. You will see.
+
+--The wandering jew, Buck Mulligan whispered with clown's awe. Did you
+see his eye? He looked upon you to lust after you. I fear thee, ancient
+mariner. O, Kinch, thou art in peril. Get thee a breechpad.
+
+Manner of Oxenford.
+
+Day. Wheelbarrow sun over arch of bridge.
+
+A dark back went before them, step of a pard, down, out by the gateway,
+under portcullis barbs.
+
+They followed.
+
+Offend me still. Speak on.
+
+Kind air defined the coigns of houses in Kildare street. No birds. Frail
+from the housetops two plumes of smoke ascended, pluming, and in a flaw
+of softness softly were blown.
+
+Cease to strive. Peace of the druid priests of Cymbeline: hierophantic:
+from wide earth an altar.
+
+ _Laud we the gods
+ And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils
+ From our bless'd altars._
+
+
+The superior, the very reverend John Conmee S.J. reset his smooth watch
+in his interior pocket as he came down the presbytery steps. Five to
+three. Just nice time to walk to Artane. What was that boy's name again?
+Dignam. Yes. _Vere dignum et iustum est._ Brother Swan was the person
+to see. Mr Cunningham's letter. Yes. Oblige him, if possible. Good
+practical catholic: useful at mission time.
+
+A onelegged sailor, swinging himself onward by lazy jerks of his
+crutches, growled some notes. He jerked short before the convent of the
+sisters of charity and held out a peaked cap for alms towards the very
+reverend John Conmee S. J. Father Conmee blessed him in the sun for his
+purse held, he knew, one silver crown.
+
+Father Conmee crossed to Mountjoy square. He thought, but not for long,
+of soldiers and sailors, whose legs had been shot off by cannonballs,
+ending their days in some pauper ward, and of cardinal Wolsey's words:
+_If I had served my God as I have served my king He would not have
+abandoned me in my old days._ He walked by the treeshade of sunnywinking
+leaves: and towards him came the wife of Mr David Sheehy M.P.
+
+--Very well, indeed, father. And you, father?
+
+Father Conmee was wonderfully well indeed. He would go to Buxton
+probably for the waters. And her boys, were they getting on well at
+Belvedere? Was that so? Father Conmee was very glad indeed to hear that.
+And Mr Sheehy himself? Still in London. The house was still sitting, to
+be sure it was. Beautiful weather it was, delightful indeed. Yes, it was
+very probable that Father Bernard Vaughan would come again to preach. O,
+yes: a very great success. A wonderful man really.
+
+Father Conmee was very glad to see the wife of Mr David Sheehy M.P.
+Iooking so well and he begged to be remembered to Mr David Sheehy M.P.
+Yes, he would certainly call.
+
+--Good afternoon, Mrs Sheehy.
+
+Father Conmee doffed his silk hat and smiled, as he took leave, at the
+jet beads of her mantilla inkshining in the sun. And smiled yet again,
+in going. He had cleaned his teeth, he knew, with arecanut paste.
+
+Father Conmee walked and, walking, smiled for he thought on Father
+Bernard Vaughan's droll eyes and cockney voice.
+
+--Pilate! Wy don't you old back that owlin mob?
+
+A zealous man, however. Really he was. And really did great good in his
+way. Beyond a doubt. He loved Ireland, he said, and he loved the Irish.
+Of good family too would one think it? Welsh, were they not?
+
+O, lest he forget. That letter to father provincial.
+
+Father Conmee stopped three little schoolboys at the corner of Mountjoy
+square. Yes: they were from Belvedere. The little house. Aha. And were
+they good boys at school? O. That was very good now. And what was his
+name? Jack Sohan. And his name? Ger. Gallaher. And the other little man?
+His name was Brunny Lynam. O, that was a very nice name to have.
+
+Father Conmee gave a letter from his breast to Master Brunny Lynam and
+pointed to the red pillarbox at the corner of Fitzgibbon street.
+
+--But mind you don't post yourself into the box, little man, he said.
+
+The boys sixeyed Father Conmee and laughed:
+
+--O, sir.
+
+--Well, let me see if you can post a letter, Father Conmee said.
+
+Master Brunny Lynam ran across the road and put Father Conmee's letter
+to father provincial into the mouth of the bright red letterbox. Father
+Conmee smiled and nodded and smiled and walked along Mountjoy square
+east.
+
+Mr Denis J Maginni, professor of dancing &c, in silk hat, slate
+frockcoat with silk facings, white kerchief tie, tight lavender
+trousers, canary gloves and pointed patent boots, walking with grave
+deportment most respectfully took the curbstone as he passed lady
+Maxwell at the corner of Dignam's court.
+
+Was that not Mrs M'Guinness?
+
+Mrs M'Guinness, stately, silverhaired, bowed to Father Conmee from the
+farther footpath along which she sailed. And Father Conmee smiled and
+saluted. How did she do?
+
+A fine carriage she had. Like Mary, queen of Scots, something. And to
+think that she was a pawnbroker! Well, now! Such a... what should he
+say?... such a queenly mien.
+
+Father Conmee walked down Great Charles street and glanced at the shutup
+free church on his left. The reverend T. R. Greene B.A. will (D.V.)
+speak. The incumbent they called him. He felt it incumbent on him to say
+a few words. But one should be charitable. Invincible ignorance. They
+acted according to their lights.
+
+Father Conmee turned the corner and walked along the North Circular
+road. It was a wonder that there was not a tramline in such an important
+thoroughfare. Surely, there ought to be.
+
+A band of satchelled schoolboys crossed from Richmond street. All
+raised untidy caps. Father Conmee greeted them more than once benignly.
+Christian brother boys.
+
+Father Conmee smelt incense on his right hand as he walked. Saint
+Joseph's church, Portland row. For aged and virtuous females.
+Father Conmee raised his hat to the Blessed Sacrament. Virtuous: but
+occasionally they were also badtempered.
+
+Near Aldborough house Father Conmee thought of that spendthrift
+nobleman. And now it was an office or something.
+
+Father Conmee began to walk along the North Strand road and was saluted
+by Mr William Gallagher who stood in the doorway of his shop. Father
+Conmee saluted Mr William Gallagher and perceived the odours that came
+from baconflitches and ample cools of butter. He passed Grogan's the
+Tobacconist against which newsboards leaned and told of a dreadful
+catastrophe in New York. In America those things were continually
+happening. Unfortunate people to die like that, unprepared. Still, an
+act of perfect contrition.
+
+Father Conmee went by Daniel Bergin's publichouse against the window of
+which two unlabouring men lounged. They saluted him and were saluted.
+
+Father Conmee passed H. J. O'Neill's funeral establishment where Corny
+Kelleher totted figures in the daybook while he chewed a blade of hay.
+A constable on his beat saluted Father Conmee and Father Conmee saluted
+the constable. In Youkstetter's, the porkbutcher's, Father Conmee
+observed pig's puddings, white and black and red, lie neatly curled in
+tubes.
+
+Moored under the trees of Charleville Mall Father Conmee saw a
+turfbarge, a towhorse with pendent head, a bargeman with a hat of dirty
+straw seated amidships, smoking and staring at a branch of poplar above
+him. It was idyllic: and Father Conmee reflected on the providence of
+the Creator who had made turf to be in bogs whence men might dig it
+out and bring it to town and hamlet to make fires in the houses of poor
+people.
+
+On Newcomen bridge the very reverend John Conmee S.J. of saint Francis
+Xavier's church, upper Gardiner street, stepped on to an outward bound
+tram.
+
+Off an inward bound tram stepped the reverend Nicholas Dudley C. C. of
+saint Agatha's church, north William street, on to Newcomen bridge.
+
+At Newcomen bridge Father Conmee stepped into an outward bound tram for
+he disliked to traverse on foot the dingy way past Mud Island.
+
+Father Conmee sat in a corner of the tramcar, a blue ticket tucked with
+care in the eye of one plump kid glove, while four shillings, a sixpence
+and five pennies chuted from his other plump glovepalm into his purse.
+Passing the ivy church he reflected that the ticket inspector usually
+made his visit when one had carelessly thrown away the ticket. The
+solemnity of the occupants of the car seemed to Father Conmee excessive
+for a journey so short and cheap. Father Conmee liked cheerful decorum.
+
+It was a peaceful day. The gentleman with the glasses opposite Father
+Conmee had finished explaining and looked down. His wife, Father Conmee
+supposed. A tiny yawn opened the mouth of the wife of the gentleman with
+the glasses. She raised her small gloved fist, yawned ever so gently,
+tiptapping her small gloved fist on her opening mouth and smiled tinily,
+sweetly.
+
+Father Conmee perceived her perfume in the car. He perceived also that
+the awkward man at the other side of her was sitting on the edge of the
+seat.
+
+Father Conmee at the altarrails placed the host with difficulty in the
+mouth of the awkward old man who had the shaky head.
+
+At Annesley bridge the tram halted and, when it was about to go, an old
+woman rose suddenly from her place to alight. The conductor pulled the
+bellstrap to stay the car for her. She passed out with her basket and
+a marketnet: and Father Conmee saw the conductor help her and net and
+basket down: and Father Conmee thought that, as she had nearly passed
+the end of the penny fare, she was one of those good souls who had
+always to be told twice _bless you, my child,_ that they have been
+absolved, _pray for me._ But they had so many worries in life, so many
+cares, poor creatures.
+
+From the hoardings Mr Eugene Stratton grimaced with thick niggerlips at
+Father Conmee.
+
+Father Conmee thought of the souls of black and brown and yellow men and
+of his sermon on saint Peter Claver S.J. and the African mission and of
+the propagation of the faith and of the millions of black and brown and
+yellow souls that had not received the baptism of water when their last
+hour came like a thief in the night. That book by the Belgian jesuit,
+_Le Nombre des Élus,_ seemed to Father Conmee a reasonable plea. Those
+were millions of human souls created by God in His Own likeness to
+whom the faith had not (D.V.) been brought. But they were God's souls,
+created by God. It seemed to Father Conmee a pity that they should all
+be lost, a waste, if one might say.
+
+At the Howth road stop Father Conmee alighted, was saluted by the
+conductor and saluted in his turn.
+
+The Malahide road was quiet. It pleased Father Conmee, road and name.
+The joybells were ringing in gay Malahide. Lord Talbot de Malahide,
+immediate hereditary lord admiral of Malahide and the seas adjoining.
+Then came the call to arms and she was maid, wife and widow in one day.
+Those were old worldish days, loyal times in joyous townlands, old times
+in the barony.
+
+Father Conmee, walking, thought of his little book _Old Times in the
+Barony_ and of the book that might be written about jesuit houses and of
+Mary Rochfort, daughter of lord Molesworth, first countess of Belvedere.
+
+A listless lady, no more young, walked alone the shore of lough Ennel,
+Mary, first countess of Belvedere, listlessly walking in the evening,
+not startled when an otter plunged. Who could know the truth? Not the
+jealous lord Belvedere and not her confessor if she had not committed
+adultery fully, _eiaculatio seminis inter vas naturale mulieris,_ with
+her husband's brother? She would half confess if she had not all sinned
+as women did. Only God knew and she and he, her husband's brother.
+
+Father Conmee thought of that tyrannous incontinence, needed however for
+man's race on earth, and of the ways of God which were not our ways.
+
+Don John Conmee walked and moved in times of yore. He was humane and
+honoured there. He bore in mind secrets confessed and he smiled at
+smiling noble faces in a beeswaxed drawingroom, ceiled with full fruit
+clusters. And the hands of a bride and of a bridegroom, noble to noble,
+were impalmed by Don John Conmee.
+
+It was a charming day.
+
+The lychgate of a field showed Father Conmee breadths of cabbages,
+curtseying to him with ample underleaves. The sky showed him a flock of
+small white clouds going slowly down the wind. _Moutonner,_ the French
+said. A just and homely word.
+
+Father Conmee, reading his office, watched a flock of muttoning clouds
+over Rathcoffey. His thinsocked ankles were tickled by the stubble of
+Clongowes field. He walked there, reading in the evening, and heard
+the cries of the boys' lines at their play, young cries in the quiet
+evening. He was their rector: his reign was mild.
+
+Father Conmee drew off his gloves and took his rededged breviary out. An
+ivory bookmark told him the page.
+
+Nones. He should have read that before lunch. But lady Maxwell had come.
+
+Father Conmee read in secret _Pater_ and _Ave_ and crossed his breast.
+_Deus in adiutorium._
+
+He walked calmly and read mutely the nones, walking and reading till he
+came to _Res_ in _Beati immaculati: Principium verborum tuorum veritas:
+in eternum omnia indicia iustitiae tuae._
+
+A flushed young man came from a gap of a hedge and after him came a
+young woman with wild nodding daisies in her hand. The young man raised
+his cap abruptly: the young woman abruptly bent and with slow care
+detached from her light skirt a clinging twig.
+
+Father Conmee blessed both gravely and turned a thin page of his
+breviary. _Sin: Principes persecuti sunt me gratis: et a verbis tuis
+formidavit cor meum._
+
+* * * * *
+
+Corny Kelleher closed his long daybook and glanced with his drooping eye
+at a pine coffinlid sentried in a corner. He pulled himself erect,
+went to it and, spinning it on its axle, viewed its shape and brass
+furnishings. Chewing his blade of hay he laid the coffinlid by and came
+to the doorway. There he tilted his hatbrim to give shade to his eyes
+and leaned against the doorcase, looking idly out.
+
+Father John Conmee stepped into the Dollymount tram on Newcomen bridge.
+
+Corny Kelleher locked his largefooted boots and gazed, his hat
+downtilted, chewing his blade of hay.
+
+Constable 57C, on his beat, stood to pass the time of day.
+
+--That's a fine day, Mr Kelleher.
+
+--Ay, Corny Kelleher said.
+
+--It's very close, the constable said.
+
+Corny Kelleher sped a silent jet of hayjuice arching from his mouth
+while a generous white arm from a window in Eccles street flung forth a
+coin.
+
+--What's the best news? he asked.
+
+--I seen that particular party last evening, the constable said with
+bated breath.
+
+* * * * *
+
+A onelegged sailor crutched himself round MacConnell's corner, skirting
+Rabaiotti's icecream car, and jerked himself up Eccles street. Towards
+Larry O'Rourke, in shirtsleeves in his doorway, he growled unamiably:
+
+--_For England_...
+
+He swung himself violently forward past Katey and Boody Dedalus, halted
+and growled:
+
+--_home and beauty._
+
+J. J. O'Molloy's white careworn face was told that Mr Lambert was in the
+warehouse with a visitor.
+
+A stout lady stopped, took a copper coin from her purse and dropped it
+into the cap held out to her. The sailor grumbled thanks, glanced sourly
+at the unheeding windows, sank his head and swung himself forward four
+strides.
+
+He halted and growled angrily:
+
+--_For England_...
+
+Two barefoot urchins, sucking long liquorice laces, halted near him,
+gaping at his stump with their yellowslobbered mouths.
+
+He swung himself forward in vigorous jerks, halted, lifted his head
+towards a window and bayed deeply:
+
+--_home and beauty._
+
+The gay sweet chirping whistling within went on a bar or two, ceased.
+The blind of the window was drawn aside. A card _Unfurnished Apartments_
+slipped from the sash and fell. A plump bare generous arm shone, was
+seen, held forth from a white petticoatbodice and taut shiftstraps. A
+woman's hand flung forth a coin over the area railings. It fell on the
+path.
+
+One of the urchins ran to it, picked it up and dropped it into the
+minstrel's cap, saying:
+
+--There, sir.
+
+* * * * *
+
+Katey and Boody Dedalus shoved in the door of the closesteaming kitchen.
+
+--Did you put in the books? Boody asked.
+
+Maggy at the range rammed down a greyish mass beneath bubbling suds
+twice with her potstick and wiped her brow.
+
+--They wouldn't give anything on them, she said.
+
+Father Conmee walked through Clongowes fields, his thinsocked ankles
+tickled by stubble.
+
+--Where did you try? Boody asked.
+
+--M'Guinness's.
+
+Boody stamped her foot and threw her satchel on the table.
+
+--Bad cess to her big face! she cried.
+
+Katey went to the range and peered with squinting eyes.
+
+--What's in the pot? she asked.
+
+--Shirts, Maggy said.
+
+Boody cried angrily:
+
+--Crickey, is there nothing for us to eat?
+
+Katey, lifting the kettlelid in a pad of her stained skirt, asked:
+
+--And what's in this?
+
+A heavy fume gushed in answer.
+
+--Peasoup, Maggy said.
+
+--Where did you get it? Katey asked.
+
+--Sister Mary Patrick, Maggy said.
+
+The lacquey rang his bell.
+
+--Barang!
+
+Boody sat down at the table and said hungrily:
+
+--Give us it here.
+
+Maggy poured yellow thick soup from the kettle into a bowl. Katey,
+sitting opposite Boody, said quietly, as her fingertip lifted to her
+mouth random crumbs:
+
+--A good job we have that much. Where's Dilly?
+
+--Gone to meet father, Maggy said.
+
+Boody, breaking big chunks of bread into the yellow soup, added:
+
+--Our father who art not in heaven.
+
+Maggy, pouring yellow soup in Katey's bowl, exclaimed:
+
+--Boody! For shame!
+
+A skiff, a crumpled throwaway, Elijah is coming, rode lightly down the
+Liffey, under Loopline bridge, shooting the rapids where water chafed
+around the bridgepiers, sailing eastward past hulls and anchorchains,
+between the Customhouse old dock and George's quay.
+
+* * * * *
+
+The blond girl in Thornton's bedded the wicker basket with rustling
+fibre. Blazes Boylan handed her the bottle swathed in pink tissue paper
+and a small jar.
+
+--Put these in first, will you? he said.
+
+--Yes, sir, the blond girl said. And the fruit on top.
+
+--That'll do, game ball, Blazes Boylan said.
+
+She bestowed fat pears neatly, head by tail, and among them ripe
+shamefaced peaches.
+
+Blazes Boylan walked here and there in new tan shoes about the
+fruitsmelling shop, lifting fruits, young juicy crinkled and plump red
+tomatoes, sniffing smells.
+
+H. E. L. Y.'S filed before him, tallwhitehatted, past Tangier lane,
+plodding towards their goal.
+
+He turned suddenly from a chip of strawberries, drew a gold watch from
+his fob and held it at its chain's length.
+
+--Can you send them by tram? Now?
+
+A darkbacked figure under Merchants' arch scanned books on the hawker's
+cart.
+
+--Certainly, sir. Is it in the city?
+
+--O, yes, Blazes Boylan said. Ten minutes.
+
+The blond girl handed him a docket and pencil.
+
+--Will you write the address, sir?
+
+Blazes Boylan at the counter wrote and pushed the docket to her.
+
+--Send it at once, will you? he said. It's for an invalid.
+
+--Yes, sir. I will, sir.
+
+Blazes Boylan rattled merry money in his trousers' pocket.
+
+--What's the damage? he asked.
+
+The blond girl's slim fingers reckoned the fruits.
+
+Blazes Boylan looked into the cut of her blouse. A young pullet. He took
+a red carnation from the tall stemglass.
+
+--This for me? he asked gallantly.
+
+The blond girl glanced sideways at him, got up regardless, with his tie
+a bit crooked, blushing.
+
+--Yes, sir, she said.
+
+Bending archly she reckoned again fat pears and blushing peaches.
+
+Blazes Boylan looked in her blouse with more favour, the stalk of the
+red flower between his smiling teeth.
+
+--May I say a word to your telephone, missy? he asked roguishly.
+
+* * * * *
+
+_--Ma!_ Almidano Artifoni said.
+
+He gazed over Stephen's shoulder at Goldsmith's knobby poll.
+
+Two carfuls of tourists passed slowly, their women sitting fore,
+gripping the handrests. Palefaces. Men's arms frankly round their
+stunted forms. They looked from Trinity to the blind columned porch of
+the bank of Ireland where pigeons roocoocooed.
+
+--_Anch'io ho avuto di queste idee, ALMIDANO ARTIFONI SAID, quand' ero
+giovine come Lei. Eppoi mi sono convinto che il mondo è una bestia.
+É peccato. Perchè la sua voce... sarebbe un cespite di rendita, via.
+Invece, Lei si sacrifica._
+
+--_Sacrifizio incruento,_ Stephen said smiling, swaying his ashplant in
+slow swingswong from its midpoint, lightly.
+
+_--Speriamo,_ the round mustachioed face said pleasantly. _Ma, dia retta
+a me. Ci rifletta_.
+
+By the stern stone hand of Grattan, bidding halt, an Inchicore tram
+unloaded straggling Highland soldiers of a band.
+
+--_Ci rifletterò,_ Stephen said, glancing down the solid trouserleg.
+
+--_Ma, sul serio, eh?_ Almidano Artifoni said.
+
+His heavy hand took Stephen's firmly. Human eyes. They gazed curiously
+an instant and turned quickly towards a Dalkey tram.
+
+_--Eccolo,_ Almidano Artifoni said in friendly haste. _Venga a trovarmi
+e ci pensi. Addio, caro._
+
+--_Arrivederla, maestro,_ Stephen said, raising his hat when his hand
+was freed. _E grazie._
+
+--_Di che?_ Almidano Artifoni said. _Scusi, eh? Tante belle cose!_
+
+Almidano Artifoni, holding up a baton of rolled music as a signal,
+trotted on stout trousers after the Dalkey tram. In vain he trotted,
+signalling in vain among the rout of barekneed gillies smuggling
+implements of music through Trinity gates.
+
+* * * * *
+
+Miss Dunne hid the Capel street library copy of _The Woman in White_
+far back in her drawer and rolled a sheet of gaudy notepaper into her
+typewriter.
+
+Too much mystery business in it. Is he in love with that one, Marion?
+Change it and get another by Mary Cecil Haye.
+
+The disk shot down the groove, wobbled a while, ceased and ogled them:
+six.
+
+Miss Dunne clicked on the keyboard:
+
+--16 June 1904.
+
+Five tallwhitehatted sandwichmen between Monypeny's corner and the slab
+where Wolfe Tone's statue was not, eeled themselves turning H. E. L.
+Y.'S and plodded back as they had come.
+
+Then she stared at the large poster of Marie Kendall, charming
+soubrette, and, listlessly lolling, scribbled on the jotter sixteens and
+capital esses. Mustard hair and dauby cheeks. She's not nicelooking,
+is she? The way she's holding up her bit of a skirt. Wonder will that
+fellow be at the band tonight. If I could get that dressmaker to make a
+concertina skirt like Susy Nagle's. They kick out grand. Shannon and
+all the boatclub swells never took his eyes off her. Hope to goodness he
+won't keep me here till seven.
+
+The telephone rang rudely by her ear.
+
+--Hello. Yes, sir. No, sir. Yes, sir. I'll ring them up after five. Only
+those two, sir, for Belfast and Liverpool. All right, sir. Then I can go
+after six if you're not back. A quarter after. Yes, sir. Twentyseven and
+six. I'll tell him. Yes: one, seven, six.
+
+She scribbled three figures on an envelope.
+
+--Mr Boylan! Hello! That gentleman from SPORT was in looking for you. Mr
+Lenehan, yes. He said he'll be in the Ormond at four. No, sir. Yes, sir.
+I'll ring them up after five.
+
+* * * * *
+
+Two pink faces turned in the flare of the tiny torch.
+
+--Who's that? Ned Lambert asked. Is that Crotty?
+
+--Ringabella and Crosshaven, a voice replied groping for foothold.
+
+--Hello, Jack, is that yourself? Ned Lambert said, raising in salute his
+pliant lath among the flickering arches. Come on. Mind your steps there.
+
+The vesta in the clergyman's uplifted hand consumed itself in a long
+soft flame and was let fall. At their feet its red speck died: and
+mouldy air closed round them.
+
+--How interesting! a refined accent said in the gloom.
+
+--Yes, sir, Ned Lambert said heartily. We are standing in the historic
+council chamber of saint Mary's abbey where silken Thomas proclaimed
+himself a rebel in 1534. This is the most historic spot in all Dublin.
+O'Madden Burke is going to write something about it one of these days.
+The old bank of Ireland was over the way till the time of the union and
+the original jews' temple was here too before they built their synagogue
+over in Adelaide road. You were never here before, Jack, were you?
+
+--No, Ned.
+
+--He rode down through Dame walk, the refined accent said, if my memory
+serves me. The mansion of the Kildares was in Thomas court.
+
+--That's right, Ned Lambert said. That's quite right, sir.
+
+--If you will be so kind then, the clergyman said, the next time to
+allow me perhaps...
+
+--Certainly, Ned Lambert said. Bring the camera whenever you like. I'll
+get those bags cleared away from the windows. You can take it from here
+or from here.
+
+In the still faint light he moved about, tapping with his lath the piled
+seedbags and points of vantage on the floor.
+
+From a long face a beard and gaze hung on a chessboard.
+
+--I'm deeply obliged, Mr Lambert, the clergyman said. I won't trespass
+on your valuable time...
+
+--You're welcome, sir, Ned Lambert said. Drop in whenever you like. Next
+week, say. Can you see?
+
+--Yes, yes. Good afternoon, Mr Lambert. Very pleased to have met you.
+
+--Pleasure is mine, sir, Ned Lambert answered.
+
+He followed his guest to the outlet and then whirled his lath away among
+the pillars. With J. J. O'Molloy he came forth slowly into Mary's abbey
+where draymen were loading floats with sacks of carob and palmnut meal,
+O'Connor, Wexford.
+
+He stood to read the card in his hand.
+
+--The reverend Hugh C. Love, Rathcoffey. Present address: Saint
+Michael's, Sallins. Nice young chap he is. He's writing a book about the
+Fitzgeralds he told me. He's well up in history, faith.
+
+The young woman with slow care detached from her light skirt a clinging
+twig.
+
+--I thought you were at a new gunpowder plot, J. J. O'Molloy said.
+
+Ned Lambert cracked his fingers in the air.
+
+--God! he cried. I forgot to tell him that one about the earl of Kildare
+after he set fire to Cashel cathedral. You know that one? _I'm bloody
+sorry I did it,_ says he, _but I declare to God I thought the archbishop
+was inside._ He mightn't like it, though. What? God, I'll tell him
+anyhow. That was the great earl, the Fitzgerald Mor. Hot members they
+were all of them, the Geraldines.
+
+The horses he passed started nervously under their slack harness. He
+slapped a piebald haunch quivering near him and cried:
+
+--Woa, sonny!
+
+He turned to J. J. O'Molloy and asked:
+
+--Well, Jack. What is it? What's the trouble? Wait awhile. Hold hard.
+
+With gaping mouth and head far back he stood still and, after an
+instant, sneezed loudly.
+
+--Chow! he said. Blast you!
+
+--The dust from those sacks, J. J. O'Molloy said politely.
+
+--No, Ned Lambert gasped, I caught a... cold night before... blast
+your soul... night before last... and there was a hell of a lot of
+draught...
+
+He held his handkerchief ready for the coming...
+
+--I was... Glasnevin this morning... poor little... what do you call
+him... Chow!... Mother of Moses!
+
+* * * * *
+
+Tom Rochford took the top disk from the pile he clasped against his
+claret waistcoat.
+
+--See? he said. Say it's turn six. In here, see. Turn Now On.
+
+He slid it into the left slot for them. It shot down the groove, wobbled
+a while, ceased, ogling them: six.
+
+Lawyers of the past, haughty, pleading, beheld pass from the
+consolidated taxing office to Nisi Prius court Richie Goulding carrying
+the costbag of Goulding, Collis and Ward and heard rustling from the
+admiralty division of king's bench to the court of appeal an elderly
+female with false teeth smiling incredulously and a black silk skirt of
+great amplitude.
+
+--See? he said. See now the last one I put in is over here: Turns Over.
+The impact. Leverage, see?
+
+He showed them the rising column of disks on the right.
+
+--Smart idea, Nosey Flynn said, snuffling. So a fellow coming in late
+can see what turn is on and what turns are over.
+
+--See? Tom Rochford said.
+
+He slid in a disk for himself: and watched it shoot, wobble, ogle, stop:
+four. Turn Now On.
+
+--I'll see him now in the Ormond, Lenehan said, and sound him. One good
+turn deserves another.
+
+--Do, Tom Rochford said. Tell him I'm Boylan with impatience.
+
+--Goodnight, M'Coy said abruptly. When you two begin
+
+Nosey Flynn stooped towards the lever, snuffling at it.
+
+--But how does it work here, Tommy? he asked.
+
+--Tooraloo, Lenehan said. See you later.
+
+He followed M'Coy out across the tiny square of Crampton court.
+
+--He's a hero, he said simply.
+
+--I know, M'Coy said. The drain, you mean.
+
+--Drain? Lenehan said. It was down a manhole.
+
+They passed Dan Lowry's musichall where Marie Kendall, charming
+soubrette, smiled on them from a poster a dauby smile.
+
+Going down the path of Sycamore street beside the Empire musichall
+Lenehan showed M'Coy how the whole thing was. One of those manholes like
+a bloody gaspipe and there was the poor devil stuck down in it, half
+choked with sewer gas. Down went Tom Rochford anyhow, booky's vest and
+all, with the rope round him. And be damned but he got the rope round
+the poor devil and the two were hauled up.
+
+--The act of a hero, he said.
+
+At the Dolphin they halted to allow the ambulance car to gallop past
+them for Jervis street.
+
+--This way, he said, walking to the right. I want to pop into Lynam's
+to see Sceptre's starting price. What's the time by your gold watch and
+chain?
+
+M'Coy peered into Marcus Tertius Moses' sombre office, then at O'Neill's
+clock.
+
+--After three, he said. Who's riding her?
+
+--O. Madden, Lenehan said. And a game filly she is.
+
+While he waited in Temple bar M'Coy dodged a banana peel with gentle
+pushes of his toe from the path to the gutter. Fellow might damn easy
+get a nasty fall there coming along tight in the dark.
+
+The gates of the drive opened wide to give egress to the viceregal
+cavalcade.
+
+--Even money, Lenehan said returning. I knocked against Bantam Lyons
+in there going to back a bloody horse someone gave him that hasn't an
+earthly. Through here.
+
+They went up the steps and under Merchants' arch. A darkbacked figure
+scanned books on the hawker's cart.
+
+--There he is, Lenehan said.
+
+--Wonder what he's buying, M'Coy said, glancing behind.
+
+--_Leopoldo or the Bloom is on the Rye,_ Lenehan said.
+
+--He's dead nuts on sales, M'Coy said. I was with him one day and he
+bought a book from an old one in Liffey street for two bob. There were
+fine plates in it worth double the money, the stars and the moon and
+comets with long tails. Astronomy it was about.
+
+Lenehan laughed.
+
+--I'll tell you a damn good one about comets' tails, he said. Come over
+in the sun.
+
+They crossed to the metal bridge and went along Wellington quay by the
+riverwall.
+
+Master Patrick Aloysius Dignam came out of Mangan's, late Fehrenbach's,
+carrying a pound and a half of porksteaks.
+
+--There was a long spread out at Glencree reformatory, Lenehan said
+eagerly. The annual dinner, you know. Boiled shirt affair. The lord
+mayor was there, Val Dillon it was, and sir Charles Cameron and Dan
+Dawson spoke and there was music. Bartell d'Arcy sang and Benjamin
+Dollard...
+
+--I know, M'Coy broke in. My missus sang there once.
+
+--Did she? Lenehan said.
+
+A card _Unfurnished Apartments_ reappeared on the windowsash of number 7
+Eccles street.
+
+He checked his tale a moment but broke out in a wheezy laugh.
+
+--But wait till I tell you, he said. Delahunt of Camden street had the
+catering and yours truly was chief bottlewasher. Bloom and the wife were
+there. Lashings of stuff we put up: port wine and sherry and curacao to
+which we did ample justice. Fast and furious it was. After liquids came
+solids. Cold joints galore and mince pies...
+
+--I know, M'Coy said. The year the missus was there...
+
+Lenehan linked his arm warmly.
+
+--But wait till I tell you, he said. We had a midnight lunch too after
+all the jollification and when we sallied forth it was blue o'clock the
+morning after the night before. Coming home it was a gorgeous winter's
+night on the Featherbed Mountain. Bloom and Chris Callinan were on one
+side of the car and I was with the wife on the other. We started singing
+glees and duets: _Lo, the early beam of morning_. She was well primed
+with a good load of Delahunt's port under her bellyband. Every jolt the
+bloody car gave I had her bumping up against me. Hell's delights! She
+has a fine pair, God bless her. Like that.
+
+He held his caved hands a cubit from him, frowning:
+
+--I was tucking the rug under her and settling her boa all the time.
+Know what I mean?
+
+His hands moulded ample curves of air. He shut his eyes tight in
+delight, his body shrinking, and blew a sweet chirp from his lips.
+
+--The lad stood to attention anyhow, he said with a sigh. She's a gamey
+mare and no mistake. Bloom was pointing out all the stars and the comets
+in the heavens to Chris Callinan and the jarvey: the great bear and
+Hercules and the dragon, and the whole jingbang lot. But, by God, I was
+lost, so to speak, in the milky way. He knows them all, faith. At last
+she spotted a weeny weeshy one miles away. _And what star is that,
+Poldy?_ says she. By God, she had Bloom cornered. _That one, is it?_
+says Chris Callinan, _sure that's only what you might call a pinprick._
+By God, he wasn't far wide of the mark.
+
+Lenehan stopped and leaned on the riverwall, panting with soft laughter.
+
+--I'm weak, he gasped.
+
+M'Coy's white face smiled about it at instants and grew grave. Lenehan
+walked on again. He lifted his yachtingcap and scratched his hindhead
+rapidly. He glanced sideways in the sunlight at M'Coy.
+
+--He's a cultured allroundman, Bloom is, he said seriously. He's not one
+of your common or garden... you know... There's a touch of the artist
+about old Bloom.
+
+* * * * *
+
+Mr Bloom turned over idly pages of _The Awful Disclosures of Maria
+Monk,_ then of Aristotle's _Masterpiece._ Crooked botched print. Plates:
+infants cuddled in a ball in bloodred wombs like livers of slaughtered
+cows. Lots of them like that at this moment all over the world. All
+butting with their skulls to get out of it. Child born every minute
+somewhere. Mrs Purefoy.
+
+He laid both books aside and glanced at the third: _Tales of the Ghetto_
+by Leopold von Sacher Masoch.
+
+--That I had, he said, pushing it by.
+
+The shopman let two volumes fall on the counter.
+
+--Them are two good ones, he said.
+
+Onions of his breath came across the counter out of his ruined mouth.
+He bent to make a bundle of the other books, hugged them against his
+unbuttoned waistcoat and bore them off behind the dingy curtain.
+
+On O'Connell bridge many persons observed the grave deportment and gay
+apparel of Mr Denis J Maginni, professor of dancing &c.
+
+Mr Bloom, alone, looked at the titles. _Fair Tyrants_ by James
+Lovebirch. Know the kind that is. Had it? Yes.
+
+He opened it. Thought so.
+
+A woman's voice behind the dingy curtain. Listen: the man.
+
+No: she wouldn't like that much. Got her it once.
+
+He read the other title: _Sweets of Sin_. More in her line. Let us see.
+
+He read where his finger opened.
+
+_--All the dollarbills her husband gave her were spent in the stores on
+wondrous gowns and costliest frillies. For him! For raoul!_
+
+Yes. This. Here. Try.
+
+--_Her mouth glued on his in a luscious voluptuous kiss while his hands
+felt for the opulent curves inside her deshabillé._
+
+Yes. Take this. The end.
+
+--_You are late, he spoke hoarsely, eying her with a suspicious glare.
+The beautiful woman threw off her sabletrimmed wrap, displaying her
+queenly shoulders and heaving embonpoint. An imperceptible smile played
+round her perfect lips as she turned to him calmly._
+
+Mr Bloom read again: _The beautiful woman._
+
+Warmth showered gently over him, cowing his flesh. Flesh yielded amply
+amid rumpled clothes: whites of eyes swooning up. His nostrils arched
+themselves for prey. Melting breast ointments (_for Him! For Raoul!_).
+Armpits' oniony sweat. Fishgluey slime (_her heaving embonpoint!_).
+Feel! Press! Crushed! Sulphur dung of lions!
+
+Young! Young!
+
+An elderly female, no more young, left the building of the courts of
+chancery, king's bench, exchequer and common pleas, having heard in
+the lord chancellor's court the case in lunacy of Potterton, in the
+admiralty division the summons, exparte motion, of the owners of the
+Lady Cairns versus the owners of the barque Mona, in the court of appeal
+reservation of judgment in the case of Harvey versus the Ocean Accident
+and Guarantee Corporation.
+
+Phlegmy coughs shook the air of the bookshop, bulging out the dingy
+curtains. The shopman's uncombed grey head came out and his unshaven
+reddened face, coughing. He raked his throat rudely, puked phlegm on the
+floor. He put his boot on what he had spat, wiping his sole along it,
+and bent, showing a rawskinned crown, scantily haired.
+
+Mr Bloom beheld it.
+
+Mastering his troubled breath, he said:
+
+--I'll take this one.
+
+The shopman lifted eyes bleared with old rheum.
+
+--_Sweets of Sin,_ he said, tapping on it. That's a good one.
+
+* * * * *
+
+The lacquey by the door of Dillon's auctionrooms shook his handbell
+twice again and viewed himself in the chalked mirror of the cabinet.
+
+Dilly Dedalus, loitering by the curbstone, heard the beats of the
+bell, the cries of the auctioneer within. Four and nine. Those lovely
+curtains. Five shillings. Cosy curtains. Selling new at two guineas. Any
+advance on five shillings? Going for five shillings.
+
+The lacquey lifted his handbell and shook it:
+
+--Barang!
+
+Bang of the lastlap bell spurred the halfmile wheelmen to their sprint.
+J. A. Jackson, W. E. Wylie, A. Munro and H. T. Gahan, their stretched
+necks wagging, negotiated the curve by the College library.
+
+Mr Dedalus, tugging a long moustache, came round from Williams's row. He
+halted near his daughter.
+
+--It's time for you, she said.
+
+--Stand up straight for the love of the lord Jesus, Mr Dedalus said.
+Are you trying to imitate your uncle John, the cornetplayer, head upon
+shoulder? Melancholy God!
+
+Dilly shrugged her shoulders. Mr Dedalus placed his hands on them and
+held them back.
+
+--Stand up straight, girl, he said. You'll get curvature of the spine.
+Do you know what you look like?
+
+He let his head sink suddenly down and forward, hunching his shoulders
+and dropping his underjaw.
+
+--Give it up, father, Dilly said. All the people are looking at you.
+
+Mr Dedalus drew himself upright and tugged again at his moustache.
+
+--Did you get any money? Dilly asked.
+
+--Where would I get money? Mr Dedalus said. There is no-one in Dublin
+would lend me fourpence.
+
+--You got some, Dilly said, looking in his eyes.
+
+--How do you know that? Mr Dedalus asked, his tongue in his cheek.
+
+Mr Kernan, pleased with the order he had booked, walked boldly along
+James's street.
+
+--I know you did, Dilly answered. Were you in the Scotch house now?
+
+--I was not, then, Mr Dedalus said, smiling. Was it the little nuns
+taught you to be so saucy? Here.
+
+He handed her a shilling.
+
+--See if you can do anything with that, he said.
+
+--I suppose you got five, Dilly said. Give me more than that.
+
+--Wait awhile, Mr Dedalus said threateningly. You're like the rest of
+them, are you? An insolent pack of little bitches since your poor mother
+died. But wait awhile. You'll all get a short shrift and a long day from
+me. Low blackguardism! I'm going to get rid of you. Wouldn't care if I
+was stretched out stiff. He's dead. The man upstairs is dead.
+
+He left her and walked on. Dilly followed quickly and pulled his coat.
+
+--Well, what is it? he said, stopping.
+
+The lacquey rang his bell behind their backs.
+
+--Barang!
+
+--Curse your bloody blatant soul, Mr Dedalus cried, turning on him.
+
+The lacquey, aware of comment, shook the lolling clapper of his bell but
+feebly:
+
+--Bang!
+
+Mr Dedalus stared at him.
+
+--Watch him, he said. It's instructive. I wonder will he allow us to
+talk.
+
+--You got more than that, father, Dilly said.
+
+--I'm going to show you a little trick, Mr Dedalus said. I'll leave
+you all where Jesus left the jews. Look, there's all I have. I got
+two shillings from Jack Power and I spent twopence for a shave for the
+funeral.
+
+He drew forth a handful of copper coins, nervously.
+
+--Can't you look for some money somewhere? Dilly said.
+
+Mr Dedalus thought and nodded.
+
+--I will, he said gravely. I looked all along the gutter in O'Connell
+street. I'll try this one now.
+
+--You're very funny, Dilly said, grinning.
+
+--Here, Mr Dedalus said, handing her two pennies. Get a glass of milk
+for yourself and a bun or a something. I'll be home shortly.
+
+He put the other coins in his pocket and started to walk on.
+
+The viceregal cavalcade passed, greeted by obsequious policemen, out of
+Parkgate.
+
+--I'm sure you have another shilling, Dilly said.
+
+The lacquey banged loudly.
+
+Mr Dedalus amid the din walked off, murmuring to himself with a pursing
+mincing mouth gently:
+
+--The little nuns! Nice little things! O, sure they wouldn't do
+anything! O, sure they wouldn't really! Is it little sister Monica!
+
+* * * * *
+
+From the sundial towards James's gate walked Mr Kernan, pleased with the
+order he had booked for Pulbrook Robertson, boldly along James's street,
+past Shackleton's offices. Got round him all right. How do you do, Mr
+Crimmins? First rate, sir. I was afraid you might be up in your other
+establishment in Pimlico. How are things going? Just keeping alive.
+Lovely weather we're having. Yes, indeed. Good for the country. Those
+farmers are always grumbling. I'll just take a thimbleful of your best
+gin, Mr Crimmins. A small gin, sir. Yes, sir. Terrible affair that
+General Slocum explosion. Terrible, terrible! A thousand casualties. And
+heartrending scenes. Men trampling down women and children. Most brutal
+thing. What do they say was the cause? Spontaneous combustion. Most
+scandalous revelation. Not a single lifeboat would float and the
+firehose all burst. What I can't understand is how the inspectors ever
+allowed a boat like that... Now, you're talking straight, Mr Crimmins.
+You know why? Palm oil. Is that a fact? Without a doubt. Well now, look
+at that. And America they say is the land of the free. I thought we were
+bad here.
+
+I smiled at him. _America,_ I said quietly, just like that. _What is
+it? The sweepings of every country including our own. Isn't that true?_
+That's a fact.
+
+Graft, my dear sir. Well, of course, where there's money going there's
+always someone to pick it up.
+
+Saw him looking at my frockcoat. Dress does it. Nothing like a dressy
+appearance. Bowls them over.
+
+--Hello, Simon, Father Cowley said. How are things?
+
+--Hello, Bob, old man, Mr Dedalus answered, stopping.
+
+Mr Kernan halted and preened himself before the sloping mirror of Peter
+Kennedy, hairdresser. Stylish coat, beyond a doubt. Scott of Dawson
+street. Well worth the half sovereign I gave Neary for it. Never built
+under three guineas. Fits me down to the ground. Some Kildare street
+club toff had it probably. John Mulligan, the manager of the Hibernian
+bank, gave me a very sharp eye yesterday on Carlisle bridge as if he
+remembered me.
+
+Aham! Must dress the character for those fellows. Knight of the road.
+Gentleman. And now, Mr Crimmins, may we have the honour of your custom
+again, sir. The cup that cheers but not inebriates, as the old saying
+has it.
+
+North wall and sir John Rogerson's quay, with hulls and anchorchains,
+sailing westward, sailed by a skiff, a crumpled throwaway, rocked on the
+ferrywash, Elijah is coming.
+
+Mr Kernan glanced in farewell at his image. High colour, of course.
+Grizzled moustache. Returned Indian officer. Bravely he bore his stumpy
+body forward on spatted feet, squaring his shoulders. Is that Ned
+Lambert's brother over the way, Sam? What? Yes. He's as like it as damn
+it. No. The windscreen of that motorcar in the sun there. Just a flash
+like that. Damn like him.
+
+Aham! Hot spirit of juniper juice warmed his vitals and his breath. Good
+drop of gin, that was. His frocktails winked in bright sunshine to his
+fat strut.
+
+Down there Emmet was hanged, drawn and quartered. Greasy black rope.
+Dogs licking the blood off the street when the lord lieutenant's wife
+drove by in her noddy.
+
+Bad times those were. Well, well. Over and done with. Great topers too.
+Fourbottle men.
+
+Let me see. Is he buried in saint Michan's? Or no, there was a midnight
+burial in Glasnevin. Corpse brought in through a secret door in the
+wall. Dignam is there now. Went out in a puff. Well, well. Better turn
+down here. Make a detour.
+
+Mr Kernan turned and walked down the slope of Watling street by
+the corner of Guinness's visitors' waitingroom. Outside the Dublin
+Distillers Company's stores an outside car without fare or jarvey stood,
+the reins knotted to the wheel. Damn dangerous thing. Some Tipperary
+bosthoon endangering the lives of the citizens. Runaway horse.
+
+Denis Breen with his tomes, weary of having waited an hour in John
+Henry Menton's office, led his wife over O'Connell bridge, bound for the
+office of Messrs Collis and Ward.
+
+Mr Kernan approached Island street.
+
+Times of the troubles. Must ask Ned Lambert to lend me those
+reminiscences of sir Jonah Barrington. When you look back on it all
+now in a kind of retrospective arrangement. Gaming at Daly's. No
+cardsharping then. One of those fellows got his hand nailed to the table
+by a dagger. Somewhere here lord Edward Fitzgerald escaped from major
+Sirr. Stables behind Moira house.
+
+Damn good gin that was.
+
+Fine dashing young nobleman. Good stock, of course. That ruffian, that
+sham squire, with his violet gloves gave him away. Course they were
+on the wrong side. They rose in dark and evil days. Fine poem that
+is: Ingram. They were gentlemen. Ben Dollard does sing that ballad
+touchingly. Masterly rendition.
+
+_At the siege of Ross did my father fall._
+
+A cavalcade in easy trot along Pembroke quay passed, outriders leaping,
+leaping in their, in their saddles. Frockcoats. Cream sunshades.
+
+Mr Kernan hurried forward, blowing pursily.
+
+His Excellency! Too bad! Just missed that by a hair. Damn it! What a
+pity!
+
+* * * * *
+
+Stephen Dedalus watched through the webbed window the lapidary's fingers
+prove a timedulled chain. Dust webbed the window and the showtrays. Dust
+darkened the toiling fingers with their vulture nails. Dust slept
+on dull coils of bronze and silver, lozenges of cinnabar, on rubies,
+leprous and winedark stones.
+
+Born all in the dark wormy earth, cold specks of fire, evil, lights
+shining in the darkness. Where fallen archangels flung the stars of
+their brows. Muddy swinesnouts, hands, root and root, gripe and wrest
+them.
+
+She dances in a foul gloom where gum bums with garlic. A sailorman,
+rustbearded, sips from a beaker rum and eyes her. A long and seafed
+silent rut. She dances, capers, wagging her sowish haunches and her
+hips, on her gross belly flapping a ruby egg.
+
+Old Russell with a smeared shammy rag burnished again his gem, turned it
+and held it at the point of his Moses' beard. Grandfather ape gloating
+on a stolen hoard.
+
+And you who wrest old images from the burial earth? The brainsick words
+of sophists: Antisthenes. A lore of drugs. Orient and immortal wheat
+standing from everlasting to everlasting.
+
+Two old women fresh from their whiff of the briny trudged through
+Irishtown along London bridge road, one with a sanded tired umbrella,
+one with a midwife's bag in which eleven cockles rolled.
+
+The whirr of flapping leathern bands and hum of dynamos from the
+powerhouse urged Stephen to be on. Beingless beings. Stop! Throb always
+without you and the throb always within. Your heart you sing of. I
+between them. Where? Between two roaring worlds where they swirl, I.
+Shatter them, one and both. But stun myself too in the blow. Shatter me
+you who can. Bawd and butcher were the words. I say! Not yet awhile. A
+look around.
+
+Yes, quite true. Very large and wonderful and keeps famous time. You say
+right, sir. A Monday morning, 'twas so, indeed.
+
+Stephen went down Bedford row, the handle of the ash clacking against
+his shoulderblade. In Clohissey's window a faded 1860 print of Heenan
+boxing Sayers held his eye. Staring backers with square hats stood
+round the roped prizering. The heavyweights in tight loincloths proposed
+gently each to other his bulbous fists. And they are throbbing: heroes'
+hearts.
+
+He turned and halted by the slanted bookcart.
+
+--Twopence each, the huckster said. Four for sixpence.
+
+Tattered pages. _The Irish Beekeeper. Life and Miracles of the Curé of
+Ars. Pocket Guide to Killarney._
+
+I might find here one of my pawned schoolprizes. _Stephano Dedalo,
+alumno optimo, palmam ferenti._
+
+Father Conmee, having read his little hours, walked through the hamlet
+of Donnycarney, murmuring vespers.
+
+Binding too good probably. What is this? Eighth and ninth book of Moses.
+Secret of all secrets. Seal of King David. Thumbed pages: read and read.
+Who has passed here before me? How to soften chapped hands. Recipe for
+white wine vinegar. How to win a woman's love. For me this. Say the
+following talisman three times with hands folded:
+
+--_Se el yilo nebrakada femininum! Amor me solo! Sanktus! Amen._
+
+Who wrote this? Charms and invocations of the most blessed abbot Peter
+Salanka to all true believers divulged. As good as any other abbot's
+charms, as mumbling Joachim's. Down, baldynoddle, or we'll wool your
+wool.
+
+--What are you doing here, Stephen?
+
+Dilly's high shoulders and shabby dress.
+
+Shut the book quick. Don't let see.
+
+--What are you doing? Stephen said.
+
+A Stuart face of nonesuch Charles, lank locks falling at its sides. It
+glowed as she crouched feeding the fire with broken boots. I told her
+of Paris. Late lieabed under a quilt of old overcoats, fingering a
+pinchbeck bracelet, Dan Kelly's token. _Nebrakada femininum._
+
+--What have you there? Stephen asked.
+
+--I bought it from the other cart for a penny, Dilly said, laughing
+nervously. Is it any good?
+
+My eyes they say she has. Do others see me so? Quick, far and daring.
+Shadow of my mind.
+
+He took the coverless book from her hand. Chardenal's French primer.
+
+--What did you buy that for? he asked. To learn French?
+
+She nodded, reddening and closing tight her lips.
+
+Show no surprise. Quite natural.
+
+--Here, Stephen said. It's all right. Mind Maggy doesn't pawn it on you.
+I suppose all my books are gone.
+
+--Some, Dilly said. We had to.
+
+She is drowning. Agenbite. Save her. Agenbite. All against us. She will
+drown me with her, eyes and hair. Lank coils of seaweed hair around me,
+my heart, my soul. Salt green death.
+
+We.
+
+Agenbite of inwit. Inwit's agenbite.
+
+Misery! Misery!
+
+* * * * *
+
+--Hello, Simon, Father Cowley said. How are things?
+
+--Hello, Bob, old man, Mr Dedalus answered, stopping.
+
+They clasped hands loudly outside Reddy and Daughter's. Father Cowley
+brushed his moustache often downward with a scooping hand.
+
+--What's the best news? Mr Dedalus said.
+
+--Why then not much, Father Cowley said. I'm barricaded up, Simon, with
+two men prowling around the house trying to effect an entrance.
+
+--Jolly, Mr Dedalus said. Who is it?
+
+--O, Father Cowley said. A certain gombeen man of our acquaintance.
+
+--With a broken back, is it? Mr Dedalus asked.
+
+--The same, Simon, Father Cowley answered. Reuben of that ilk. I'm just
+waiting for Ben Dollard. He's going to say a word to long John to get
+him to take those two men off. All I want is a little time.
+
+He looked with vague hope up and down the quay, a big apple bulging in
+his neck.
+
+--I know, Mr Dedalus said, nodding. Poor old bockedy Ben! He's always
+doing a good turn for someone. Hold hard!
+
+He put on his glasses and gazed towards the metal bridge an instant.
+
+--There he is, by God, he said, arse and pockets.
+
+Ben Dollard's loose blue cutaway and square hat above large slops
+crossed the quay in full gait from the metal bridge. He came towards
+them at an amble, scratching actively behind his coattails.
+
+As he came near Mr Dedalus greeted:
+
+--Hold that fellow with the bad trousers.
+
+--Hold him now, Ben Dollard said.
+
+Mr Dedalus eyed with cold wandering scorn various points of Ben
+Dollard's figure. Then, turning to Father Cowley with a nod, he muttered
+sneeringly:
+
+--That's a pretty garment, isn't it, for a summer's day?
+
+--Why, God eternally curse your soul, Ben Dollard growled furiously, I
+threw out more clothes in my time than you ever saw.
+
+He stood beside them beaming, on them first and on his roomy clothes
+from points of which Mr Dedalus flicked fluff, saying:
+
+--They were made for a man in his health, Ben, anyhow.
+
+--Bad luck to the jewman that made them, Ben Dollard said. Thanks be to
+God he's not paid yet.
+
+--And how is that _basso profondo_, Benjamin? Father Cowley asked.
+
+Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, murmuring,
+glassyeyed, strode past the Kildare street club.
+
+Ben Dollard frowned and, making suddenly a chanter's mouth, gave forth a
+deep note.
+
+--Aw! he said.
+
+--That's the style, Mr Dedalus said, nodding to its drone.
+
+--What about that? Ben Dollard said. Not too dusty? What?
+
+He turned to both.
+
+--That'll do, Father Cowley said, nodding also.
+
+The reverend Hugh C. Love walked from the old chapterhouse of saint
+Mary's abbey past James and Charles Kennedy's, rectifiers, attended by
+Geraldines tall and personable, towards the Tholsel beyond the ford of
+hurdles.
+
+Ben Dollard with a heavy list towards the shopfronts led them forward,
+his joyful fingers in the air.
+
+--Come along with me to the subsheriff's office, he said. I want to
+show you the new beauty Rock has for a bailiff. He's a cross between
+Lobengula and Lynchehaun. He's well worth seeing, mind you. Come along.
+I saw John Henry Menton casually in the Bodega just now and it will cost
+me a fall if I don't... Wait awhile... We're on the right lay, Bob,
+believe you me.
+
+--For a few days tell him, Father Cowley said anxiously.
+
+Ben Dollard halted and stared, his loud orifice open, a dangling button
+of his coat wagging brightbacked from its thread as he wiped away the
+heavy shraums that clogged his eyes to hear aright.
+
+--What few days? he boomed. Hasn't your landlord distrained for rent?
+
+--He has, Father Cowley said.
+
+--Then our friend's writ is not worth the paper it's printed on, Ben
+Dollard said. The landlord has the prior claim. I gave him all the
+particulars. 29 Windsor avenue. Love is the name?
+
+--That's right, Father Cowley said. The reverend Mr Love. He's a
+minister in the country somewhere. But are you sure of that?
+
+--You can tell Barabbas from me, Ben Dollard said, that he can put that
+writ where Jacko put the nuts.
+
+He led Father Cowley boldly forward, linked to his bulk.
+
+--Filberts I believe they were, Mr Dedalus said, as he dropped his
+glasses on his coatfront, following them.
+
+* * * * *
+
+--The youngster will be all right, Martin Cunningham said, as they
+passed out of the Castleyard gate.
+
+The policeman touched his forehead.
+
+--God bless you, Martin Cunningham said, cheerily.
+
+He signed to the waiting jarvey who chucked at the reins and set on
+towards Lord Edward street.
+
+Bronze by gold, Miss Kennedy's head by Miss Douce's head, appeared above
+the crossblind of the Ormond hotel.
+
+--Yes, Martin Cunningham said, fingering his beard. I wrote to Father
+Conmee and laid the whole case before him.
+
+--You could try our friend, Mr Power suggested backward.
+
+--Boyd? Martin Cunningham said shortly. Touch me not.
+
+John Wyse Nolan, lagging behind, reading the list, came after them
+quickly down Cork hill.
+
+On the steps of the City hall Councillor Nannetti, descending, hailed
+Alderman Cowley and Councillor Abraham Lyon ascending.
+
+The castle car wheeled empty into upper Exchange street.
+
+--Look here, Martin, John Wyse Nolan said, overtaking them at the _Mail_
+office. I see Bloom put his name down for five shillings.
+
+--Quite right, Martin Cunningham said, taking the list. And put down the
+five shillings too.
+
+--Without a second word either, Mr Power said.
+
+--Strange but true, Martin Cunningham added.
+
+John Wyse Nolan opened wide eyes.
+
+--I'll say there is much kindness in the jew, he quoted, elegantly.
+
+They went down Parliament street.
+
+--There's Jimmy Henry, Mr Power said, just heading for Kavanagh's.
+
+--Righto, Martin Cunningham said. Here goes.
+
+Outside _la Maison Claire_ Blazes Boylan waylaid Jack Mooney's
+brother-in-law, humpy, tight, making for the liberties.
+
+John Wyse Nolan fell back with Mr Power, while Martin Cunningham took
+the elbow of a dapper little man in a shower of hail suit, who walked
+uncertainly, with hasty steps past Micky Anderson's watches.
+
+--The assistant town clerk's corns are giving him some trouble, John
+Wyse Nolan told Mr Power.
+
+They followed round the corner towards James Kavanagh's winerooms. The
+empty castle car fronted them at rest in Essex gate. Martin Cunningham,
+speaking always, showed often the list at which Jimmy Henry did not
+glance.
+
+--And long John Fanning is here too, John Wyse Nolan said, as large as
+life.
+
+The tall form of long John Fanning filled the doorway where he stood.
+
+--Good day, Mr Subsheriff, Martin Cunningham said, as all halted and
+greeted.
+
+Long John Fanning made no way for them. He removed his large Henry Clay
+decisively and his large fierce eyes scowled intelligently over all
+their faces.
+
+--Are the conscript fathers pursuing their peaceful deliberations? he
+said with rich acrid utterance to the assistant town clerk.
+
+Hell open to christians they were having, Jimmy Henry said pettishly,
+about their damned Irish language. Where was the marshal, he wanted
+to know, to keep order in the council chamber. And old Barlow the
+macebearer laid up with asthma, no mace on the table, nothing in order,
+no quorum even, and Hutchinson, the lord mayor, in Llandudno and little
+Lorcan Sherlock doing _locum tenens_ for him. Damned Irish language,
+language of our forefathers.
+
+Long John Fanning blew a plume of smoke from his lips.
+
+Martin Cunningham spoke by turns, twirling the peak of his beard, to the
+assistant town clerk and the subsheriff, while John Wyse Nolan held his
+peace.
+
+--What Dignam was that? long John Fanning asked.
+
+Jimmy Henry made a grimace and lifted his left foot.
+
+--O, my corns! he said plaintively. Come upstairs for goodness' sake
+till I sit down somewhere. Uff! Ooo! Mind!
+
+Testily he made room for himself beside long John Fanning's flank and
+passed in and up the stairs.
+
+--Come on up, Martin Cunningham said to the subsheriff. I don't think
+you knew him or perhaps you did, though.
+
+With John Wyse Nolan Mr Power followed them in.
+
+--Decent little soul he was, Mr Power said to the stalwart back of long
+John Fanning ascending towards long John Fanning in the mirror.
+
+--Rather lowsized. Dignam of Menton's office that was, Martin Cunningham
+said.
+
+Long John Fanning could not remember him.
+
+Clatter of horsehoofs sounded from the air.
+
+--What's that? Martin Cunningham said.
+
+All turned where they stood. John Wyse Nolan came down again. From the
+cool shadow of the doorway he saw the horses pass Parliament street,
+harness and glossy pasterns in sunlight shimmering. Gaily they went past
+before his cool unfriendly eyes, not quickly. In saddles of the leaders,
+leaping leaders, rode outriders.
+
+--What was it? Martin Cunningham asked, as they went on up the
+staircase.
+
+--The lord lieutenantgeneral and general governor of Ireland, John Wyse
+Nolan answered from the stairfoot.
+
+* * * * *
+
+As they trod across the thick carpet Buck Mulligan whispered behind his
+Panama to Haines:
+
+--Parnell's brother. There in the corner.
+
+They chose a small table near the window, opposite a longfaced man whose
+beard and gaze hung intently down on a chessboard.
+
+--Is that he? Haines asked, twisting round in his seat.
+
+--Yes, Mulligan said. That's John Howard, his brother, our city marshal.
+
+John Howard Parnell translated a white bishop quietly and his grey claw
+went up again to his forehead whereat it rested. An instant after, under
+its screen, his eyes looked quickly, ghostbright, at his foe and fell
+once more upon a working corner.
+
+--I'll take a _mélange,_ Haines said to the waitress.
+
+--Two _mélanges,_ Buck Mulligan said. And bring us some scones and
+butter and some cakes as well.
+
+When she had gone he said, laughing:
+
+--We call it D.B.C. because they have damn bad cakes. O, but you missed
+Dedalus on _Hamlet._
+
+Haines opened his newbought book.
+
+--I'm sorry, he said. Shakespeare is the happy huntingground of all
+minds that have lost their balance.
+
+The onelegged sailor growled at the area of 14 Nelson street:
+
+--_England expects_...
+
+Buck Mulligan's primrose waistcoat shook gaily to his laughter.
+
+--You should see him, he said, when his body loses its balance.
+Wandering Aengus I call him.
+
+--I am sure he has an _idée fixe,_ Haines said, pinching his chin
+thoughtfully with thumb and forefinger. Now I am speculating what it
+would be likely to be. Such persons always have.
+
+Buck Mulligan bent across the table gravely.
+
+--They drove his wits astray, he said, by visions of hell. He will never
+capture the Attic note. The note of Swinburne, of all poets, the white
+death and the ruddy birth. That is his tragedy. He can never be a poet.
+The joy of creation...
+
+--Eternal punishment, Haines said, nodding curtly. I see. I tackled him
+this morning on belief. There was something on his mind, I saw.
+It's rather interesting because professor Pokorny of Vienna makes an
+interesting point out of that.
+
+Buck Mulligan's watchful eyes saw the waitress come. He helped her to
+unload her tray.
+
+--He can find no trace of hell in ancient Irish myth, Haines said, amid
+the cheerful cups. The moral idea seems lacking, the sense of destiny,
+of retribution. Rather strange he should have just that fixed idea. Does
+he write anything for your movement?
+
+He sank two lumps of sugar deftly longwise through the whipped cream.
+Buck Mulligan slit a steaming scone in two and plastered butter over its
+smoking pith. He bit off a soft piece hungrily.
+
+--Ten years, he said, chewing and laughing. He is going to write
+something in ten years.
+
+--Seems a long way off, Haines said, thoughtfully lifting his spoon.
+Still, I shouldn't wonder if he did after all.
+
+He tasted a spoonful from the creamy cone of his cup.
+
+--This is real Irish cream I take it, he said with forbearance. I don't
+want to be imposed on.
+
+Elijah, skiff, light crumpled throwaway, sailed eastward by flanks of
+ships and trawlers, amid an archipelago of corks, beyond new Wapping
+street past Benson's ferry, and by the threemasted schooner _Rosevean_
+from Bridgwater with bricks.
+
+* * * * *
+
+Almidano Artifoni walked past Holles street, past Sewell's yard.
+Behind him Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, with
+stickumbrelladustcoat dangling, shunned the lamp before Mr Law Smith's
+house and, crossing, walked along Merrion square. Distantly behind him a
+blind stripling tapped his way by the wall of College park.
+
+Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell walked as far as
+Mr Lewis Werner's cheerful windows, then turned and strode back along
+Merrion square, his stickumbrelladustcoat dangling.
+
+At the corner of Wilde's house he halted, frowned at Elijah's name
+announced on the Metropolitan hall, frowned at the distant pleasance of
+duke's lawn. His eyeglass flashed frowning in the sun. With ratsteeth
+bared he muttered:
+
+--_Coactus volui._
+
+He strode on for Clare street, grinding his fierce word.
+
+As he strode past Mr Bloom's dental windows the sway of his dustcoat
+brushed rudely from its angle a slender tapping cane and swept onwards,
+having buffeted a thewless body. The blind stripling turned his sickly
+face after the striding form.
+
+--God's curse on you, he said sourly, whoever you are! You're blinder
+nor I am, you bitch's bastard!
+
+* * * * *
+
+Opposite Ruggy O'Donohoe's Master Patrick Aloysius Dignam, pawing the
+pound and a half of Mangan's, late Fehrenbach's, porksteaks he had been
+sent for, went along warm Wicklow street dawdling. It was too blooming
+dull sitting in the parlour with Mrs Stoer and Mrs Quigley and Mrs
+MacDowell and the blind down and they all at their sniffles and sipping
+sups of the superior tawny sherry uncle Barney brought from Tunney's.
+And they eating crumbs of the cottage fruitcake, jawing the whole
+blooming time and sighing.
+
+After Wicklow lane the window of Madame Doyle, courtdress milliner,
+stopped him. He stood looking in at the two puckers stripped to their
+pelts and putting up their props. From the sidemirrors two mourning
+Masters Dignam gaped silently. Myler Keogh, Dublin's pet lamb, will
+meet sergeantmajor Bennett, the Portobello bruiser, for a purse of fifty
+sovereigns. Gob, that'd be a good pucking match to see. Myler Keogh,
+that's the chap sparring out to him with the green sash. Two bar
+entrance, soldiers half price. I could easy do a bunk on ma. Master
+Dignam on his left turned as he turned. That's me in mourning. When
+is it? May the twentysecond. Sure, the blooming thing is all over. He
+turned to the right and on his right Master Dignam turned, his cap awry,
+his collar sticking up. Buttoning it down, his chin lifted, he saw the
+image of Marie Kendall, charming soubrette, beside the two puckers. One
+of them mots that do be in the packets of fags Stoer smokes that his old
+fellow welted hell out of him for one time he found out.
+
+Master Dignam got his collar down and dawdled on. The best pucker going
+for strength was Fitzsimons. One puck in the wind from that fellow would
+knock you into the middle of next week, man. But the best pucker for
+science was Jem Corbet before Fitzsimons knocked the stuffings out of
+him, dodging and all.
+
+In Grafton street Master Dignam saw a red flower in a toff's mouth and
+a swell pair of kicks on him and he listening to what the drunk was
+telling him and grinning all the time.
+
+No Sandymount tram.
+
+Master Dignam walked along Nassau street, shifted the porksteaks to
+his other hand. His collar sprang up again and he tugged it down. The
+blooming stud was too small for the buttonhole of the shirt, blooming
+end to it. He met schoolboys with satchels. I'm not going tomorrow
+either, stay away till Monday. He met other schoolboys. Do they notice
+I'm in mourning? Uncle Barney said he'd get it into the paper tonight.
+Then they'll all see it in the paper and read my name printed and pa's
+name.
+
+His face got all grey instead of being red like it was and there was a
+fly walking over it up to his eye. The scrunch that was when they
+were screwing the screws into the coffin: and the bumps when they were
+bringing it downstairs.
+
+Pa was inside it and ma crying in the parlour and uncle Barney telling
+the men how to get it round the bend. A big coffin it was, and high and
+heavylooking. How was that? The last night pa was boosed he was standing
+on the landing there bawling out for his boots to go out to Tunney's for
+to boose more and he looked butty and short in his shirt. Never see him
+again. Death, that is. Pa is dead. My father is dead. He told me to be
+a good son to ma. I couldn't hear the other things he said but I saw
+his tongue and his teeth trying to say it better. Poor pa. That was
+Mr Dignam, my father. I hope he's in purgatory now because he went to
+confession to Father Conroy on Saturday night.
+
+* * * * *
+
+William Humble, earl of Dudley, and lady Dudley, accompanied by
+lieutenantcolonel Heseltine, drove out after luncheon from the viceregal
+lodge. In the following carriage were the honourable Mrs Paget, Miss de
+Courcy and the honourable Gerald Ward A.D.C. in attendance.
+
+The cavalcade passed out by the lower gate of Phoenix park saluted by
+obsequious policemen and proceeded past Kingsbridge along the northern
+quays. The viceroy was most cordially greeted on his way through the
+metropolis. At Bloody bridge Mr Thomas Kernan beyond the river greeted
+him vainly from afar Between Queen's and Whitworth bridges lord Dudley's
+viceregal carriages passed and were unsaluted by Mr Dudley White, B.
+L., M. A., who stood on Arran quay outside Mrs M. E. White's, the
+pawnbroker's, at the corner of Arran street west stroking his nose with
+his forefinger, undecided whether he should arrive at Phibsborough
+more quickly by a triple change of tram or by hailing a car or on foot
+through Smithfield, Constitution hill and Broadstone terminus. In the
+porch of Four Courts Richie Goulding with the costbag of Goulding,
+Collis and Ward saw him with surprise. Past Richmond bridge at the
+doorstep of the office of Reuben J Dodd, solicitor, agent for the
+Patriotic Insurance Company, an elderly female about to enter changed
+her plan and retracing her steps by King's windows smiled credulously
+on the representative of His Majesty. From its sluice in Wood quay wall
+under Tom Devan's office Poddle river hung out in fealty a tongue of
+liquid sewage. Above the crossblind of the Ormond hotel, gold by bronze,
+Miss Kennedy's head by Miss Douce's head watched and admired. On Ormond
+quay Mr Simon Dedalus, steering his way from the greenhouse for the
+subsheriff's office, stood still in midstreet and brought his hat low.
+His Excellency graciously returned Mr Dedalus' greeting. From Cahill's
+corner the reverend Hugh C. Love, M.A., made obeisance unperceived,
+mindful of lords deputies whose hands benignant had held of yore rich
+advowsons. On Grattan bridge Lenehan and M'Coy, taking leave of each
+other, watched the carriages go by. Passing by Roger Greene's office and
+Dollard's big red printinghouse Gerty MacDowell, carrying the Catesby's
+cork lino letters for her father who was laid up, knew by the style
+it was the lord and lady lieutenant but she couldn't see what Her
+Excellency had on because the tram and Spring's big yellow furniture van
+had to stop in front of her on account of its being the lord lieutenant.
+Beyond Lundy Foot's from the shaded door of Kavanagh's winerooms
+John Wyse Nolan smiled with unseen coldness towards the lord
+lieutenantgeneral and general governor of Ireland. The Right Honourable
+William Humble, earl of Dudley, G. C. V. O., passed Micky Anderson's all
+times ticking watches and Henry and James's wax smartsuited freshcheeked
+models, the gentleman Henry, _dernier cri_ James. Over against Dame gate
+Tom Rochford and Nosey Flynn watched the approach of the cavalcade. Tom
+Rochford, seeing the eyes of lady Dudley fixed on him, took his thumbs
+quickly out of the pockets of his claret waistcoat and doffed his cap to
+her. A charming _soubrette,_ great Marie Kendall, with dauby cheeks and
+lifted skirt smiled daubily from her poster upon William Humble, earl
+of Dudley, and upon lieutenantcolonel H. G. Heseltine, and also upon
+the honourable Gerald Ward A. D. C. From the window of the D. B. C. Buck
+Mulligan gaily, and Haines gravely, gazed down on the viceregal equipage
+over the shoulders of eager guests, whose mass of forms darkened the
+chessboard whereon John Howard Parnell looked intently. In Fownes's
+street Dilly Dedalus, straining her sight upward from Chardenal's first
+French primer, saw sunshades spanned and wheelspokes spinning in the
+glare. John Henry Menton, filling the doorway of Commercial Buildings,
+stared from winebig oyster eyes, holding a fat gold hunter watch not
+looked at in his fat left hand not feeling it. Where the foreleg of King
+Billy's horse pawed the air Mrs Breen plucked her hastening husband
+back from under the hoofs of the outriders. She shouted in his ear the
+tidings. Understanding, he shifted his tomes to his left breast
+and saluted the second carriage. The honourable Gerald Ward A.D.C.,
+agreeably surprised, made haste to reply. At Ponsonby's corner a jaded
+white flagon H. halted and four tallhatted white flagons halted behind
+him, E.L.Y'S, while outriders pranced past and carriages. Opposite
+Pigott's music warerooms Mr Denis J Maginni, professor of dancing &c,
+gaily apparelled, gravely walked, outpassed by a viceroy and unobserved.
+By the provost's wall came jauntily Blazes Boylan, stepping in tan shoes
+and socks with skyblue clocks to the refrain of _My girl's a Yorkshire
+girl._
+
+Blazes Boylan presented to the leaders' skyblue frontlets and high
+action a skyblue tie, a widebrimmed straw hat at a rakish angle and a
+suit of indigo serge. His hands in his jacket pockets forgot to salute
+but he offered to the three ladies the bold admiration of his eyes and
+the red flower between his lips. As they drove along Nassau street His
+Excellency drew the attention of his bowing consort to the programme of
+music which was being discoursed in College park. Unseen brazen highland
+laddies blared and drumthumped after the _cortège_:
+
+ _But though she's a factory lass
+ And wears no fancy clothes.
+ Baraabum.
+ Yet I've a sort of a
+ Yorkshire relish for
+ My little Yorkshire rose.
+ Baraabum._
+
+Thither of the wall the quartermile flat handicappers, M. C. Green, H.
+Shrift, T. M. Patey, C. Scaife, J. B. Jeffs, G. N. Morphy, F. Stevenson,
+C. Adderly and W. C. Huggard, started in pursuit. Striding past Finn's
+hotel Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell stared through a
+fierce eyeglass across the carriages at the head of Mr M. E. Solomons
+in the window of the Austro-Hungarian viceconsulate. Deep in Leinster
+street by Trinity's postern a loyal king's man, Hornblower, touched
+his tallyho cap. As the glossy horses pranced by Merrion square Master
+Patrick Aloysius Dignam, waiting, saw salutes being given to the gent
+with the topper and raised also his new black cap with fingers greased
+by porksteak paper. His collar too sprang up. The viceroy, on his way to
+inaugurate the Mirus bazaar in aid of funds for Mercer's hospital,
+drove with his following towards Lower Mount street. He passed a blind
+stripling opposite Broadbent's. In Lower Mount street a pedestrian in a
+brown macintosh, eating dry bread, passed swiftly and unscathed across
+the viceroy's path. At the Royal Canal bridge, from his hoarding,
+Mr Eugene Stratton, his blub lips agrin, bade all comers welcome to
+Pembroke township. At Haddington road corner two sanded women halted
+themselves, an umbrella and a bag in which eleven cockles rolled to view
+with wonder the lord mayor and lady mayoress without his golden chain.
+On Northumberland and Lansdowne roads His Excellency acknowledged
+punctually salutes from rare male walkers, the salute of two small
+schoolboys at the garden gate of the house said to have been admired
+by the late queen when visiting the Irish capital with her husband, the
+prince consort, in 1849 and the salute of Almidano Artifoni's sturdy
+trousers swallowed by a closing door.
+
+
+
+Bronze by gold heard the hoofirons, steelyringing Imperthnthn thnthnthn.
+
+Chips, picking chips off rocky thumbnail, chips.
+
+Horrid! And gold flushed more.
+
+A husky fifenote blew.
+
+Blew. Blue bloom is on the.
+
+Goldpinnacled hair.
+
+A jumping rose on satiny breast of satin, rose of Castile.
+
+Trilling, trilling: Idolores.
+
+Peep! Who's in the... peepofgold?
+
+Tink cried to bronze in pity.
+
+And a call, pure, long and throbbing. Longindying call.
+
+Decoy. Soft word. But look: the bright stars fade. Notes chirruping
+answer.
+
+O rose! Castile. The morn is breaking.
+
+Jingle jingle jaunted jingling.
+
+Coin rang. Clock clacked.
+
+Avowal. _Sonnez._ I could. Rebound of garter. Not leave thee. Smack. _La
+cloche!_ Thigh smack. Avowal. Warm. Sweetheart, goodbye!
+
+Jingle. Bloo.
+
+Boomed crashing chords. When love absorbs. War! War! The tympanum.
+
+A sail! A veil awave upon the waves.
+
+Lost. Throstle fluted. All is lost now.
+
+Horn. Hawhorn.
+
+When first he saw. Alas!
+
+Full tup. Full throb.
+
+Warbling. Ah, lure! Alluring.
+
+Martha! Come!
+
+Clapclap. Clipclap. Clappyclap.
+
+Goodgod henev erheard inall.
+
+Deaf bald Pat brought pad knife took up.
+
+A moonlit nightcall: far, far.
+
+I feel so sad. P. S. So lonely blooming.
+
+Listen!
+
+The spiked and winding cold seahorn. Have you the? Each, and for other,
+plash and silent roar.
+
+Pearls: when she. Liszt's rhapsodies. Hissss.
+
+You don't?
+
+Did not: no, no: believe: Lidlyd. With a cock with a carra.
+
+Black. Deepsounding. Do, Ben, do.
+
+Wait while you wait. Hee hee. Wait while you hee.
+
+But wait!
+
+Low in dark middle earth. Embedded ore.
+
+Naminedamine. Preacher is he:
+
+All gone. All fallen.
+
+Tiny, her tremulous fernfoils of maidenhair.
+
+Amen! He gnashed in fury.
+
+Fro. To, fro. A baton cool protruding.
+
+Bronzelydia by Minagold.
+
+By bronze, by gold, in oceangreen of shadow. Bloom. Old Bloom.
+
+One rapped, one tapped, with a carra, with a cock.
+
+Pray for him! Pray, good people!
+
+His gouty fingers nakkering.
+
+Big Benaben. Big Benben.
+
+Last rose Castile of summer left bloom I feel so sad alone.
+
+Pwee! Little wind piped wee.
+
+True men. Lid Ker Cow De and Doll. Ay, ay. Like you men. Will lift your
+tschink with tschunk.
+
+Fff! Oo!
+
+Where bronze from anear? Where gold from afar? Where hoofs?
+
+Rrrpr. Kraa. Kraandl.
+
+Then not till then. My eppripfftaph. Be pfrwritt.
+
+Done.
+
+Begin!
+
+Bronze by gold, miss Douce's head by miss Kennedy's head, over the
+crossblind of the Ormond bar heard the viceregal hoofs go by, ringing
+steel.
+
+--Is that her? asked miss Kennedy.
+
+Miss Douce said yes, sitting with his ex, pearl grey and _eau de Nil._
+
+--Exquisite contrast, miss Kennedy said.
+
+When all agog miss Douce said eagerly:
+
+--Look at the fellow in the tall silk.
+
+--Who? Where? gold asked more eagerly.
+
+--In the second carriage, miss Douce's wet lips said, laughing in the
+sun.
+
+He's looking. Mind till I see.
+
+She darted, bronze, to the backmost corner, flattening her face against
+the pane in a halo of hurried breath.
+
+Her wet lips tittered:
+
+--He's killed looking back.
+
+She laughed:
+
+--O wept! Aren't men frightful idiots?
+
+With sadness.
+
+Miss Kennedy sauntered sadly from bright light, twining a loose hair
+behind an ear. Sauntering sadly, gold no more, she twisted twined a
+hair.
+
+Sadly she twined in sauntering gold hair behind a curving ear.
+
+--It's them has the fine times, sadly then she said.
+
+A man.
+
+Bloowho went by by Moulang's pipes bearing in his breast the sweets
+of sin, by Wine's antiques, in memory bearing sweet sinful words, by
+Carroll's dusky battered plate, for Raoul.
+
+The boots to them, them in the bar, them barmaids came. For them
+unheeding him he banged on the counter his tray of chattering china. And
+
+--There's your teas, he said.
+
+Miss Kennedy with manners transposed the teatray down to an upturned
+lithia crate, safe from eyes, low.
+
+--What is it? loud boots unmannerly asked.
+
+--Find out, miss Douce retorted, leaving her spyingpoint.
+
+--Your _beau,_ is it?
+
+A haughty bronze replied:
+
+--I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you if I hear any more of your
+impertinent insolence.
+
+--Imperthnthn thnthnthn, bootssnout sniffed rudely, as he retreated as
+she threatened as he had come.
+
+Bloom.
+
+On her flower frowning miss Douce said:
+
+--Most aggravating that young brat is. If he doesn't conduct himself
+I'll wring his ear for him a yard long.
+
+Ladylike in exquisite contrast.
+
+--Take no notice, miss Kennedy rejoined.
+
+She poured in a teacup tea, then back in the teapot tea. They cowered
+under their reef of counter, waiting on footstools, crates upturned,
+waiting for their teas to draw. They pawed their blouses, both of black
+satin, two and nine a yard, waiting for their teas to draw, and two and
+seven.
+
+Yes, bronze from anear, by gold from afar, heard steel from anear, hoofs
+ring from afar, and heard steelhoofs ringhoof ringsteel.
+
+--Am I awfully sunburnt?
+
+Miss bronze unbloused her neck.
+
+--No, said miss Kennedy. It gets brown after. Did you try the borax with
+the cherry laurel water?
+
+Miss Douce halfstood to see her skin askance in the barmirror
+gildedlettered where hock and claret glasses shimmered and in their
+midst a shell.
+
+--And leave it to my hands, she said.
+
+--Try it with the glycerine, miss Kennedy advised.
+
+Bidding her neck and hands adieu miss Douce
+
+--Those things only bring out a rash, replied, reseated. I asked that
+old fogey in Boyd's for something for my skin.
+
+Miss Kennedy, pouring now a fulldrawn tea, grimaced and prayed:
+
+--O, don't remind me of him for mercy' sake!
+
+--But wait till I tell you, miss Douce entreated.
+
+Sweet tea miss Kennedy having poured with milk plugged both two ears
+with little fingers.
+
+--No, don't, she cried.
+
+--I won't listen, she cried.
+
+But Bloom?
+
+Miss Douce grunted in snuffy fogey's tone:
+
+--For your what? says he.
+
+Miss Kennedy unplugged her ears to hear, to speak: but said, but prayed
+again:
+
+--Don't let me think of him or I'll expire. The hideous old wretch! That
+night in the Antient Concert Rooms.
+
+She sipped distastefully her brew, hot tea, a sip, sipped, sweet tea.
+
+--Here he was, miss Douce said, cocking her bronze head three quarters,
+ruffling her nosewings. Hufa! Hufa!
+
+Shrill shriek of laughter sprang from miss Kennedy's throat. Miss Douce
+huffed and snorted down her nostrils that quivered imperthnthn like a
+snout in quest.
+
+--O! shrieking, miss Kennedy cried. Will you ever forget his goggle eye?
+
+Miss Douce chimed in in deep bronze laughter, shouting:
+
+--And your other eye!
+
+Bloowhose dark eye read Aaron Figatner's name. Why do I always think
+Figather? Gathering figs, I think. And Prosper Lore's huguenot name.
+By Bassi's blessed virgins Bloom's dark eyes went by. Bluerobed, white
+under, come to me. God they believe she is: or goddess. Those today. I
+could not see. That fellow spoke. A student. After with Dedalus' son.
+He might be Mulligan. All comely virgins. That brings those rakes of
+fellows in: her white.
+
+By went his eyes. The sweets of sin. Sweet are the sweets.
+
+Of sin.
+
+In a giggling peal young goldbronze voices blended, Douce with Kennedy
+your other eye. They threw young heads back, bronze gigglegold, to let
+freefly their laughter, screaming, your other, signals to each other,
+high piercing notes.
+
+Ah, panting, sighing, sighing, ah, fordone, their mirth died down.
+
+Miss Kennedy lipped her cup again, raised, drank a sip and
+gigglegiggled. Miss Douce, bending over the teatray, ruffled again her
+nose and rolled droll fattened eyes. Again Kennygiggles, stooping,
+her fair pinnacles of hair, stooping, her tortoise napecomb showed,
+spluttered out of her mouth her tea, choking in tea and laughter,
+coughing with choking, crying:
+
+--O greasy eyes! Imagine being married to a man like that! she cried.
+With his bit of beard!
+
+Douce gave full vent to a splendid yell, a full yell of full woman,
+delight, joy, indignation.
+
+--Married to the greasy nose! she yelled.
+
+Shrill, with deep laughter, after, gold after bronze, they urged each
+each to peal after peal, ringing in changes, bronzegold, goldbronze,
+shrilldeep, to laughter after laughter. And then laughed more. Greasy I
+knows. Exhausted, breathless, their shaken heads they laid, braided and
+pinnacled by glossycombed, against the counterledge. All flushed (O!),
+panting, sweating (O!), all breathless.
+
+Married to Bloom, to greaseabloom.
+
+--O saints above! miss Douce said, sighed above her jumping rose. I
+wished
+
+I hadn't laughed so much. I feel all wet.
+
+--O, miss Douce! miss Kennedy protested. You horrid thing!
+
+And flushed yet more (you horrid!), more goldenly.
+
+By Cantwell's offices roved Greaseabloom, by Ceppi's virgins, bright of
+their oils. Nannetti's father hawked those things about, wheedling at
+doors as I. Religion pays. Must see him for that par. Eat first. I want.
+Not yet. At four, she said. Time ever passing. Clockhands turning. On.
+Where eat? The Clarence, Dolphin. On. For Raoul. Eat. If I net five
+guineas with those ads. The violet silk petticoats. Not yet. The sweets
+of sin.
+
+Flushed less, still less, goldenly paled.
+
+Into their bar strolled Mr Dedalus. Chips, picking chips off one of his
+rocky thumbnails. Chips. He strolled.
+
+--O, welcome back, miss Douce.
+
+He held her hand. Enjoyed her holidays?
+
+--Tiptop.
+
+He hoped she had nice weather in Rostrevor.
+
+--Gorgeous, she said. Look at the holy show I am. Lying out on the
+strand all day.
+
+Bronze whiteness.
+
+--That was exceedingly naughty of you, Mr Dedalus told her and pressed
+her hand indulgently. Tempting poor simple males.
+
+Miss Douce of satin douced her arm away.
+
+--O go away! she said. You're very simple, I don't think.
+
+He was.
+
+--Well now I am, he mused. I looked so simple in the cradle they
+christened me simple Simon.
+
+--You must have been a doaty, miss Douce made answer. And what did the
+doctor order today?
+
+--Well now, he mused, whatever you say yourself. I think I'll trouble
+you for some fresh water and a half glass of whisky.
+
+Jingle.
+
+--With the greatest alacrity, miss Douce agreed.
+
+With grace of alacrity towards the mirror gilt Cantrell and Cochrane's
+she turned herself. With grace she tapped a measure of gold whisky from
+her crystal keg. Forth from the skirt of his coat Mr Dedalus brought
+pouch and pipe. Alacrity she served. He blew through the flue two husky
+fifenotes.
+
+--By Jove, he mused, I often wanted to see the Mourne mountains. Must
+be a great tonic in the air down there. But a long threatening comes at
+last, they say. Yes. Yes.
+
+Yes. He fingered shreds of hair, her maidenhair, her mermaid's, into the
+bowl. Chips. Shreds. Musing. Mute.
+
+None nought said nothing. Yes.
+
+Gaily miss Douce polished a tumbler, trilling:
+
+--_O, Idolores, queen of the eastern seas!_
+
+--Was Mr Lidwell in today?
+
+In came Lenehan. Round him peered Lenehan. Mr Bloom reached Essex
+bridge. Yes, Mr Bloom crossed bridge of Yessex. To Martha I must write.
+Buy paper. Daly's. Girl there civil. Bloom. Old Bloom. Blue bloom is on
+the rye.
+
+--He was in at lunchtime, miss Douce said.
+
+Lenehan came forward.
+
+--Was Mr Boylan looking for me?
+
+He asked. She answered:
+
+--Miss Kennedy, was Mr Boylan in while I was upstairs?
+
+She asked. Miss voice of Kennedy answered, a second teacup poised, her
+gaze upon a page:
+
+--No. He was not.
+
+Miss gaze of Kennedy, heard, not seen, read on. Lenehan round the
+sandwichbell wound his round body round.
+
+--Peep! Who's in the corner?
+
+No glance of Kennedy rewarding him he yet made overtures. To mind her
+stops. To read only the black ones: round o and crooked ess.
+
+Jingle jaunty jingle.
+
+Girlgold she read and did not glance. Take no notice. She took no notice
+while he read by rote a solfa fable for her, plappering flatly:
+
+--Ah fox met ah stork. Said thee fox too thee stork: Will you put your
+bill down inn my troath and pull upp ah bone?
+
+He droned in vain. Miss Douce turned to her tea aside.
+
+He sighed aside:
+
+--Ah me! O my!
+
+He greeted Mr Dedalus and got a nod.
+
+--Greetings from the famous son of a famous father.
+
+--Who may he be? Mr Dedalus asked.
+
+Lenehan opened most genial arms. Who?
+
+--Who may he be? he asked. Can you ask? Stephen, the youthful bard.
+
+Dry.
+
+Mr Dedalus, famous father, laid by his dry filled pipe.
+
+--I see, he said. I didn't recognise him for the moment. I hear he is
+keeping very select company. Have you seen him lately?
+
+He had.
+
+--I quaffed the nectarbowl with him this very day, said Lenehan. In
+Mooney's _en ville_ and in Mooney's _sur mer._ He had received the rhino
+for the labour of his muse.
+
+He smiled at bronze's teabathed lips, at listening lips and eyes:
+
+--The _élite_ of Erin hung upon his lips. The ponderous pundit, Hugh
+
+MacHugh, Dublin's most brilliant scribe and editor and that minstrel boy
+of the wild wet west who is known by the euphonious appellation of the
+O'Madden Burke.
+
+After an interval Mr Dedalus raised his grog and
+
+--That must have been highly diverting, said he. I see.
+
+He see. He drank. With faraway mourning mountain eye. Set down his
+glass.
+
+He looked towards the saloon door.
+
+--I see you have moved the piano.
+
+--The tuner was in today, miss Douce replied, tuning it for the smoking
+concert and I never heard such an exquisite player.
+
+--Is that a fact?
+
+--Didn't he, miss Kennedy? The real classical, you know. And blind too,
+poor fellow. Not twenty I'm sure he was.
+
+--Is that a fact? Mr Dedalus said.
+
+He drank and strayed away.
+
+--So sad to look at his face, miss Douce condoled.
+
+God's curse on bitch's bastard.
+
+Tink to her pity cried a diner's bell. To the door of the bar and
+diningroom came bald Pat, came bothered Pat, came Pat, waiter of Ormond.
+Lager for diner. Lager without alacrity she served.
+
+With patience Lenehan waited for Boylan with impatience, for
+jinglejaunty blazes boy.
+
+Upholding the lid he (who?) gazed in the coffin (coffin?) at the oblique
+triple (piano!) wires. He pressed (the same who pressed indulgently her
+hand), soft pedalling, a triple of keys to see the thicknesses of felt
+advancing, to hear the muffled hammerfall in action.
+
+Two sheets cream vellum paper one reserve two envelopes when I was in
+Wisdom Hely's wise Bloom in Daly's Henry Flower bought. Are you not
+happy in your home? Flower to console me and a pin cuts lo. Means
+something, language of flow. Was it a daisy? Innocence that is.
+Respectable girl meet after mass. Thanks awfully muchly. Wise Bloom eyed
+on the door a poster, a swaying mermaid smoking mid nice waves. Smoke
+mermaids, coolest whiff of all. Hair streaming: lovelorn. For some man.
+For Raoul. He eyed and saw afar on Essex bridge a gay hat riding on a
+jaunting car. It is. Again. Third time. Coincidence.
+
+Jingling on supple rubbers it jaunted from the bridge to Ormond quay.
+Follow. Risk it. Go quick. At four. Near now. Out.
+
+--Twopence, sir, the shopgirl dared to say.
+
+--Aha... I was forgetting... Excuse...
+
+--And four.
+
+At four she. Winsomely she on Bloohimwhom smiled. Bloo smi qui go.
+Ternoon. Think you're the only pebble on the beach? Does that to all.
+
+For men.
+
+In drowsy silence gold bent on her page.
+
+From the saloon a call came, long in dying. That was a tuningfork the
+tuner had that he forgot that he now struck. A call again. That he now
+poised that it now throbbed. You hear? It throbbed, pure, purer, softly
+and softlier, its buzzing prongs. Longer in dying call.
+
+Pat paid for diner's popcorked bottle: and over tumbler, tray and
+popcorked bottle ere he went he whispered, bald and bothered, with miss
+
+Douce.
+
+--_The bright stars fade_...
+
+A voiceless song sang from within, singing:
+
+--... _the morn is breaking._
+
+A duodene of birdnotes chirruped bright treble answer under sensitive
+hands. Brightly the keys, all twinkling, linked, all harpsichording,
+called to a voice to sing the strain of dewy morn, of youth, of love's
+leavetaking, life's, love's morn.
+
+--_The dewdrops pearl_...
+
+Lenehan's lips over the counter lisped a low whistle of decoy.
+
+--But look this way, he said, rose of Castile.
+
+Jingle jaunted by the curb and stopped.
+
+She rose and closed her reading, rose of Castile: fretted, forlorn,
+dreamily rose.
+
+--Did she fall or was she pushed? he asked her.
+
+She answered, slighting:
+
+--Ask no questions and you'll hear no lies.
+
+Like lady, ladylike.
+
+Blazes Boylan's smart tan shoes creaked on the barfloor where he strode.
+Yes, gold from anear by bronze from afar. Lenehan heard and knew and
+hailed him:
+
+--See the conquering hero comes.
+
+Between the car and window, warily walking, went Bloom, unconquered
+hero. See me he might. The seat he sat on: warm. Black wary hecat walked
+towards Richie Goulding's legal bag, lifted aloft, saluting.
+
+--_And I from thee_...
+
+--I heard you were round, said Blazes Boylan.
+
+He touched to fair miss Kennedy a rim of his slanted straw. She smiled
+on him. But sister bronze outsmiled her, preening for him her richer
+hair, a bosom and a rose.
+
+Smart Boylan bespoke potions.
+
+--What's your cry? Glass of bitter? Glass of bitter, please, and a
+sloegin for me. Wire in yet?
+
+Not yet. At four she. Who said four?
+
+Cowley's red lugs and bulging apple in the door of the sheriff's office.
+
+Avoid. Goulding a chance. What is he doing in the Ormond? Car waiting.
+
+Wait.
+
+Hello. Where off to? Something to eat? I too was just. In here. What,
+Ormond? Best value in Dublin. Is that so? Diningroom. Sit tight there.
+See, not be seen. I think I'll join you. Come on. Richie led on. Bloom
+followed bag. Dinner fit for a prince.
+
+Miss Douce reached high to take a flagon, stretching her satin arm, her
+bust, that all but burst, so high.
+
+--O! O! jerked Lenehan, gasping at each stretch. O!
+
+But easily she seized her prey and led it low in triumph.
+
+--Why don't you grow? asked Blazes Boylan.
+
+Shebronze, dealing from her oblique jar thick syrupy liquor for his
+lips, looked as it flowed (flower in his coat: who gave him?), and
+syrupped with her voice:
+
+--Fine goods in small parcels.
+
+That is to say she. Neatly she poured slowsyrupy sloe.
+
+--Here's fortune, Blazes said.
+
+He pitched a broad coin down. Coin rang.
+
+--Hold on, said Lenehan, till I...
+
+--Fortune, he wished, lifting his bubbled ale.
+
+--Sceptre will win in a canter, he said.
+
+--I plunged a bit, said Boylan winking and drinking. Not on my own, you
+know. Fancy of a friend of mine.
+
+Lenehan still drank and grinned at his tilted ale and at miss Douce's
+lips that all but hummed, not shut, the oceansong her lips had trilled.
+
+Idolores. The eastern seas.
+
+Clock whirred. Miss Kennedy passed their way (flower, wonder who gave),
+bearing away teatray. Clock clacked.
+
+Miss Douce took Boylan's coin, struck boldly the cashregister. It
+clanged. Clock clacked. Fair one of Egypt teased and sorted in the till
+and hummed and handed coins in change. Look to the west. A clack. For
+me.
+
+--What time is that? asked Blazes Boylan. Four?
+
+O'clock.
+
+Lenehan, small eyes ahunger on her humming, bust ahumming, tugged Blazes
+Boylan's elbowsleeve.
+
+--Let's hear the time, he said.
+
+The bag of Goulding, Collis, Ward led Bloom by ryebloom flowered tables.
+Aimless he chose with agitated aim, bald Pat attending, a table near
+the door. Be near. At four. Has he forgotten? Perhaps a trick. Not come:
+whet appetite. I couldn't do. Wait, wait. Pat, waiter, waited.
+
+Sparkling bronze azure eyed Blazure's skyblue bow and eyes.
+
+--Go on, pressed Lenehan. There's no-one. He never heard.
+
+--... _to Flora's lips did hie._
+
+High, a high note pealed in the treble clear.
+
+Bronzedouce communing with her rose that sank and rose sought
+
+Blazes Boylan's flower and eyes.
+
+--Please, please.
+
+He pleaded over returning phrases of avowal.
+
+--_I could not leave thee_...
+
+--Afterwits, miss Douce promised coyly.
+
+--No, now, urged Lenehan. _Sonnezlacloche!_ O do! There's no-one.
+
+She looked. Quick. Miss Kenn out of earshot. Sudden bent. Two kindling
+faces watched her bend.
+
+Quavering the chords strayed from the air, found it again, lost chord,
+and lost and found it, faltering.
+
+--Go on! Do! _Sonnez!_
+
+Bending, she nipped a peak of skirt above her knee. Delayed. Taunted
+them still, bending, suspending, with wilful eyes.
+
+_--Sonnez!_
+
+Smack. She set free sudden in rebound her nipped elastic garter
+smackwarm against her smackable a woman's warmhosed thigh.
+
+--_La Cloche!_ cried gleeful Lenehan. Trained by owner. No sawdust
+there.
+
+She smilesmirked supercilious (wept! aren't men?), but, lightward
+gliding, mild she smiled on Boylan.
+
+--You're the essence of vulgarity, she in gliding said.
+
+Boylan, eyed, eyed. Tossed to fat lips his chalice, drank off his
+chalice tiny, sucking the last fat violet syrupy drops. His spellbound
+eyes went after, after her gliding head as it went down the bar by
+mirrors, gilded arch for ginger ale, hock and claret glasses shimmering,
+a spiky shell, where it concerted, mirrored, bronze with sunnier bronze.
+
+Yes, bronze from anearby.
+
+--... _Sweetheart, goodbye!_
+
+--I'm off, said Boylan with impatience.
+
+He slid his chalice brisk away, grasped his change.
+
+--Wait a shake, begged Lenehan, drinking quickly. I wanted to tell you.
+
+Tom Rochford...
+
+--Come on to blazes, said Blazes Boylan, going.
+
+Lenehan gulped to go.
+
+--Got the horn or what? he said. Wait. I'm coming.
+
+He followed the hasty creaking shoes but stood by nimbly by the
+threshold, saluting forms, a bulky with a slender.
+
+--How do you do, Mr Dollard?
+
+--Eh? How do? How do? Ben Dollard's vague bass answered, turning an
+instant from Father Cowley's woe. He won't give you any trouble, Bob.
+Alf Bergan will speak to the long fellow. We'll put a barleystraw in
+that Judas Iscariot's ear this time.
+
+Sighing Mr Dedalus came through the saloon, a finger soothing an eyelid.
+
+--Hoho, we will, Ben Dollard yodled jollily. Come on, Simon. Give us a
+ditty. We heard the piano.
+
+Bald Pat, bothered waiter, waited for drink orders. Power for Richie.
+And Bloom? Let me see. Not make him walk twice. His corns. Four now. How
+warm this black is. Course nerves a bit. Refracts (is it?) heat. Let me
+see. Cider. Yes, bottle of cider.
+
+--What's that? Mr Dedalus said. I was only vamping, man.
+
+--Come on, come on, Ben Dollard called. Begone dull care. Come, Bob.
+
+He ambled Dollard, bulky slops, before them (hold that fellow with the:
+hold him now) into the saloon. He plumped him Dollard on the stool. His
+gouty paws plumped chords. Plumped, stopped abrupt.
+
+Bald Pat in the doorway met tealess gold returning. Bothered, he wanted
+Power and cider. Bronze by the window, watched, bronze from afar.
+
+Jingle a tinkle jaunted.
+
+Bloom heard a jing, a little sound. He's off. Light sob of breath Bloom
+sighed on the silent bluehued flowers. Jingling. He's gone. Jingle.
+Hear.
+
+--Love and War, Ben, Mr Dedalus said. God be with old times.
+
+Miss Douce's brave eyes, unregarded, turned from the crossblind, smitten
+by sunlight. Gone. Pensive (who knows?), smitten (the smiting light),
+she lowered the dropblind with a sliding cord. She drew down pensive
+(why did he go so quick when I?) about her bronze, over the bar where
+bald stood by sister gold, inexquisite contrast, contrast inexquisite
+nonexquisite, slow cool dim seagreen sliding depth of shadow, _eau de
+Nil._
+
+--Poor old Goodwin was the pianist that night, Father Cowley reminded
+them. There was a slight difference of opinion between himself and the
+Collard grand.
+
+There was.
+
+--A symposium all his own, Mr Dedalus said. The devil wouldn't stop him.
+He was a crotchety old fellow in the primary stage of drink.
+
+--God, do you remember? Ben bulky Dollard said, turning from the
+punished keyboard. And by Japers I had no wedding garment.
+
+They laughed all three. He had no wed. All trio laughed. No wedding
+garment.
+
+--Our friend Bloom turned in handy that night, Mr Dedalus said. Where's
+my pipe, by the way?
+
+He wandered back to the bar to the lost chord pipe. Bald Pat carried two
+diners' drinks, Richie and Poldy. And Father Cowley laughed again.
+
+--I saved the situation, Ben, I think.
+
+--You did, averred Ben Dollard. I remember those tight trousers too.
+That was a brilliant idea, Bob.
+
+Father Cowley blushed to his brilliant purply lobes. He saved the situa.
+Tight trou. Brilliant ide.
+
+--I knew he was on the rocks, he said. The wife was playing the piano in
+the coffee palace on Saturdays for a very trifling consideration and
+who was it gave me the wheeze she was doing the other business? Do you
+remember? We had to search all Holles street to find them till the
+chap in Keogh's gave us the number. Remember? Ben remembered, his broad
+visage wondering.
+
+--By God, she had some luxurious operacloaks and things there.
+
+Mr Dedalus wandered back, pipe in hand.
+
+--Merrion square style. Balldresses, by God, and court dresses. He
+wouldn't take any money either. What? Any God's quantity of cocked hats
+and boleros and trunkhose. What?
+
+--Ay, ay, Mr Dedalus nodded. Mrs Marion Bloom has left off clothes of
+all descriptions.
+
+Jingle jaunted down the quays. Blazes sprawled on bounding tyres.
+
+Liver and bacon. Steak and kidney pie. Right, sir. Right, Pat.
+
+Mrs Marion. Met him pike hoses. Smell of burn. Of Paul de Kock. Nice
+name he.
+
+--What's this her name was? A buxom lassy. Marion...
+
+--Tweedy.
+
+--Yes. Is she alive?
+
+--And kicking.
+
+--She was a daughter of...
+
+--Daughter of the regiment.
+
+--Yes, begad. I remember the old drummajor.
+
+Mr Dedalus struck, whizzed, lit, puffed savoury puff after
+
+--Irish? I don't know, faith. Is she, Simon?
+
+Puff after stiff, a puff, strong, savoury, crackling.
+
+--Buccinator muscle is... What?... Bit rusty... O, she is... My
+Irish Molly, O.
+
+He puffed a pungent plumy blast.
+
+--From the rock of Gibraltar... all the way.
+
+They pined in depth of ocean shadow, gold by the beerpull, bronze
+by maraschino, thoughtful all two. Mina Kennedy, 4 Lismore terrace,
+Drumcondra with Idolores, a queen, Dolores, silent.
+
+Pat served, uncovered dishes. Leopold cut liverslices. As said before he
+ate with relish the inner organs, nutty gizzards, fried cods' roes while
+Richie Goulding, Collis, Ward ate steak and kidney, steak then kidney,
+bite by bite of pie he ate Bloom ate they ate.
+
+Bloom with Goulding, married in silence, ate. Dinners fit for princes.
+
+By Bachelor's walk jogjaunty jingled Blazes Boylan, bachelor, in sun in
+heat, mare's glossy rump atrot, with flick of whip, on bounding tyres:
+sprawled, warmseated, Boylan impatience, ardentbold. Horn. Have you the?
+Horn. Have you the? Haw haw horn.
+
+Over their voices Dollard bassooned attack, booming over bombarding
+chords:
+
+--_When love absorbs my ardent soul_...
+
+Roll of Bensoulbenjamin rolled to the quivery loveshivery roofpanes.
+
+--War! War! cried Father Cowley. You're the warrior.
+
+--So I am, Ben Warrior laughed. I was thinking of your landlord. Love or
+money.
+
+He stopped. He wagged huge beard, huge face over his blunder huge.
+
+--Sure, you'd burst the tympanum of her ear, man, Mr Dedalus said
+through smoke aroma, with an organ like yours.
+
+In bearded abundant laughter Dollard shook upon the keyboard. He would.
+
+--Not to mention another membrane, Father Cowley added. Half time, Ben.
+_Amoroso ma non troppo._ Let me there.
+
+Miss Kennedy served two gentlemen with tankards of cool stout. She
+passed a remark. It was indeed, first gentleman said, beautiful weather.
+They drank cool stout. Did she know where the lord lieutenant was going?
+And heard steelhoofs ringhoof ring. No, she couldn't say. But it would
+be in the paper. O, she need not trouble. No trouble. She waved about
+her outspread _Independent,_ searching, the lord lieutenant, her
+pinnacles of hair slowmoving, lord lieuten. Too much trouble,
+first gentleman said. O, not in the least. Way he looked that. Lord
+lieutenant. Gold by bronze heard iron steel.
+
+ --............ _my ardent soul_
+ _I care not foror the morrow._
+
+In liver gravy Bloom mashed mashed potatoes. Love and War someone is.
+Ben Dollard's famous. Night he ran round to us to borrow a dress suit
+for that concert. Trousers tight as a drum on him. Musical porkers.
+Molly did laugh when he went out. Threw herself back across the bed,
+screaming, kicking. With all his belongings on show. O saints above,
+I'm drenched! O, the women in the front row! O, I never laughed so many!
+Well, of course that's what gives him the base barreltone. For instance
+eunuchs. Wonder who's playing. Nice touch. Must be Cowley. Musical.
+Knows whatever note you play. Bad breath he has, poor chap. Stopped.
+
+Miss Douce, engaging, Lydia Douce, bowed to suave solicitor, George
+Lidwell, gentleman, entering. Good afternoon. She gave her moist (a
+lady's) hand to his firm clasp. Afternoon. Yes, she was back. To the old
+dingdong again.
+
+--Your friends are inside, Mr Lidwell.
+
+George Lidwell, suave, solicited, held a lydiahand.
+
+Bloom ate liv as said before. Clean here at least. That chap in the
+Burton, gummy with gristle. No-one here: Goulding and I. Clean tables,
+flowers, mitres of napkins. Pat to and fro. Bald Pat. Nothing to do.
+Best value in Dub.
+
+Piano again. Cowley it is. Way he sits in to it, like one together,
+mutual understanding. Tiresome shapers scraping fiddles, eye on the
+bowend, sawing the cello, remind you of toothache. Her high long snore.
+Night we were in the box. Trombone under blowing like a grampus, between
+the acts, other brass chap unscrewing, emptying spittle. Conductor's
+legs too, bagstrousers, jiggedy jiggedy. Do right to hide them.
+
+Jiggedy jingle jaunty jaunty.
+
+Only the harp. Lovely. Gold glowering light. Girl touched it. Poop of a
+lovely. Gravy's rather good fit for a. Golden ship. Erin. The harp that
+once or twice. Cool hands. Ben Howth, the rhododendrons. We are their
+harps. I. He. Old. Young.
+
+--Ah, I couldn't, man, Mr Dedalus said, shy, listless.
+
+Strongly.
+
+--Go on, blast you! Ben Dollard growled. Get it out in bits.
+
+--_M'appari,_ Simon, Father Cowley said.
+
+Down stage he strode some paces, grave, tall in affliction, his long
+arms outheld. Hoarsely the apple of his throat hoarsed softly. Softly he
+sang to a dusty seascape there: _A Last Farewell._ A headland, a ship, a
+sail upon the billows. Farewell. A lovely girl, her veil awave upon the
+wind upon the headland, wind around her.
+
+Cowley sang:
+
+ _--M'appari tutt'amor:
+ Il mio sguardo l'incontr..._
+
+She waved, unhearing Cowley, her veil, to one departing, dear one, to
+wind, love, speeding sail, return.
+
+--Go on, Simon.
+
+--Ah, sure, my dancing days are done, Ben... Well...
+
+Mr Dedalus laid his pipe to rest beside the tuningfork and, sitting,
+touched the obedient keys.
+
+--No, Simon, Father Cowley turned. Play it in the original. One flat.
+
+The keys, obedient, rose higher, told, faltered, confessed, confused.
+
+Up stage strode Father Cowley.
+
+--Here, Simon, I'll accompany you, he said. Get up.
+
+By Graham Lemon's pineapple rock, by Elvery's elephant jingly jogged.
+Steak, kidney, liver, mashed, at meat fit for princes sat princes Bloom
+and Goulding. Princes at meat they raised and drank, Power and cider.
+
+Most beautiful tenor air ever written, Richie said: _Sonnambula._ He
+heard Joe Maas sing that one night. Ah, what M'Guckin! Yes. In his way.
+Choirboy style. Maas was the boy. Massboy. A lyrical tenor if you like.
+Never forget it. Never.
+
+Tenderly Bloom over liverless bacon saw the tightened features strain.
+Backache he. Bright's bright eye. Next item on the programme. Paying the
+piper. Pills, pounded bread, worth a guinea a box. Stave it off awhile.
+Sings too: _Down among the dead men._ Appropriate. Kidney pie. Sweets to
+the. Not making much hand of it. Best value in. Characteristic of him.
+Power. Particular about his drink. Flaw in the glass, fresh Vartry
+water. Fecking matches from counters to save. Then squander a sovereign
+in dribs and drabs. And when he's wanted not a farthing. Screwed
+refusing to pay his fare. Curious types.
+
+Never would Richie forget that night. As long as he lived: never. In the
+gods of the old Royal with little Peake. And when the first note.
+
+Speech paused on Richie's lips.
+
+Coming out with a whopper now. Rhapsodies about damn all.
+
+Believes his own lies. Does really. Wonderful liar. But want a good
+memory.
+
+--Which air is that? asked Leopold Bloom.
+
+--_All is lost now_.
+
+Richie cocked his lips apout. A low incipient note sweet banshee
+murmured: all. A thrush. A throstle. His breath, birdsweet, good teeth
+he's proud of, fluted with plaintive woe. Is lost. Rich sound. Two
+notes in one there. Blackbird I heard in the hawthorn valley. Taking my
+motives he twined and turned them. All most too new call is lost in all.
+Echo. How sweet the answer. How is that done? All lost now. Mournful he
+whistled. Fall, surrender, lost.
+
+Bloom bent leopold ear, turning a fringe of doyley down under the vase.
+Order. Yes, I remember. Lovely air. In sleep she went to him. Innocence
+in the moon. Brave. Don't know their danger. Still hold her back. Call
+name. Touch water. Jingle jaunty. Too late. She longed to go. That's
+why. Woman. As easy stop the sea. Yes: all is lost.
+
+--A beautiful air, said Bloom lost Leopold. I know it well.
+
+Never in all his life had Richie Goulding.
+
+He knows it well too. Or he feels. Still harping on his daughter. Wise
+child that knows her father, Dedalus said. Me?
+
+Bloom askance over liverless saw. Face of the all is lost. Rollicking
+Richie once. Jokes old stale now. Wagging his ear. Napkinring in his
+eye. Now begging letters he sends his son with. Crosseyed Walter sir I
+did sir. Wouldn't trouble only I was expecting some money. Apologise.
+
+Piano again. Sounds better than last time I heard. Tuned probably.
+Stopped again.
+
+Dollard and Cowley still urged the lingering singer out with it.
+
+--With it, Simon.
+
+--It, Simon.
+
+--Ladies and gentlemen, I am most deeply obliged by your kind
+solicitations.
+
+--It, Simon.
+
+--I have no money but if you will lend me your attention I shall
+endeavour to sing to you of a heart bowed down.
+
+By the sandwichbell in screening shadow Lydia, her bronze and rose, a
+lady's grace, gave and withheld: as in cool glaucous _eau de Nil_ Mina
+to tankards two her pinnacles of gold.
+
+The harping chords of prelude closed. A chord, longdrawn, expectant,
+drew a voice away.
+
+--_When first I saw that form endearing_...
+
+Richie turned.
+
+--Si Dedalus' voice, he said.
+
+Braintipped, cheek touched with flame, they listened feeling that flow
+endearing flow over skin limbs human heart soul spine. Bloom signed to
+Pat, bald Pat is a waiter hard of hearing, to set ajar the door of the
+bar. The door of the bar. So. That will do. Pat, waiter, waited, waiting
+to hear, for he was hard of hear by the door.
+
+--_Sorrow from me seemed to depart._
+
+Through the hush of air a voice sang to them, low, not rain, not leaves
+in murmur, like no voice of strings or reeds or whatdoyoucallthem
+dulcimers touching their still ears with words, still hearts of their
+each his remembered lives. Good, good to hear: sorrow from them each
+seemed to from both depart when first they heard. When first they saw,
+lost Richie Poldy, mercy of beauty, heard from a person wouldn't expect
+it in the least, her first merciful lovesoft oftloved word.
+
+Love that is singing: love's old sweet song. Bloom unwound slowly the
+elastic band of his packet. Love's old sweet _sonnez la_ gold. Bloom
+wound a skein round four forkfingers, stretched it, relaxed, and wound
+it round his troubled double, fourfold, in octave, gyved them fast.
+
+--_Full of hope and all delighted_...
+
+Tenors get women by the score. Increase their flow. Throw flower at his
+feet. When will we meet? My head it simply. Jingle all delighted. He
+can't sing for tall hats. Your head it simply swurls. Perfumed for him.
+What perfume does your wife? I want to know. Jing. Stop. Knock. Last
+look at mirror always before she answers the door. The hall. There? How
+do you? I do well. There? What? Or? Phial of cachous, kissing comfits,
+in her satchel. Yes? Hands felt for the opulent.
+
+Alas the voice rose, sighing, changed: loud, full, shining, proud.
+
+--_But alas, 'twas idle dreaming_...
+
+Glorious tone he has still. Cork air softer also their brogue. Silly
+man! Could have made oceans of money. Singing wrong words. Wore out
+his wife: now sings. But hard to tell. Only the two themselves. If he
+doesn't break down. Keep a trot for the avenue. His hands and feet sing
+too. Drink. Nerves overstrung. Must be abstemious to sing. Jenny Lind
+soup: stock, sage, raw eggs, half pint of cream. For creamy dreamy.
+
+Tenderness it welled: slow, swelling, full it throbbed. That's the chat.
+Ha, give! Take! Throb, a throb, a pulsing proud erect.
+
+Words? Music? No: it's what's behind.
+
+Bloom looped, unlooped, noded, disnoded.
+
+Bloom. Flood of warm jamjam lickitup secretness flowed to flow in music
+out, in desire, dark to lick flow invading. Tipping her tepping her
+tapping her topping her. Tup. Pores to dilate dilating. Tup. The joy
+the feel the warm the. Tup. To pour o'er sluices pouring gushes. Flood,
+gush, flow, joygush, tupthrob. Now! Language of love.
+
+--... _ray of hope is_...
+
+Beaming. Lydia for Lidwell squeak scarcely hear so ladylike the muse
+unsqueaked a ray of hopk.
+
+_Martha_ it is. Coincidence. Just going to write. Lionel's song.
+Lovely name you have. Can't write. Accept my little pres. Play on her
+heartstrings pursestrings too. She's a. I called you naughty boy. Still
+the name: Martha. How strange! Today.
+
+The voice of Lionel returned, weaker but unwearied. It sang again to
+Richie Poldy Lydia Lidwell also sang to Pat open mouth ear waiting to
+wait. How first he saw that form endearing, how sorrow seemed to part,
+how look, form, word charmed him Gould Lidwell, won Pat Bloom's heart.
+
+Wish I could see his face, though. Explain better. Why the barber in
+Drago's always looked my face when I spoke his face in the glass. Still
+hear it better here than in the bar though farther.
+
+--_Each graceful look_...
+
+First night when first I saw her at Mat Dillon's in Terenure. Yellow,
+black lace she wore. Musical chairs. We two the last. Fate. After her.
+Fate.
+
+Round and round slow. Quick round. We two. All looked. Halt. Down she
+sat. All ousted looked. Lips laughing. Yellow knees.
+
+--_Charmed my eye_...
+
+Singing. _Waiting_ she sang. I turned her music. Full voice of perfume
+of what perfume does your lilactrees. Bosom I saw, both full, throat
+warbling. First I saw. She thanked me. Why did she me? Fate. Spanishy
+eyes. Under a peartree alone patio this hour in old Madrid one side in
+shadow Dolores shedolores. At me. Luring. Ah, alluring.
+
+--_Martha! Ah, Martha!_
+
+Quitting all languor Lionel cried in grief, in cry of passion dominant
+to love to return with deepening yet with rising chords of harmony. In
+cry of lionel loneliness that she should know, must martha feel. For
+only her he waited. Where? Here there try there here all try where.
+Somewhere.
+
+ --_Co-ome, thou lost one!
+ Co-ome, thou dear one!_
+
+Alone. One love. One hope. One comfort me. Martha, chestnote, return!
+
+_--Come!_
+
+It soared, a bird, it held its flight, a swift pure cry, soar silver orb
+it leaped serene, speeding, sustained, to come, don't spin it out too
+long long breath he breath long life, soaring high, high resplendent,
+aflame, crowned, high in the effulgence symbolistic, high, of the
+etherial bosom, high, of the high vast irradiation everywhere all
+soaring all around about the all, the endlessnessnessness...
+
+--_To me!_
+
+Siopold!
+
+Consumed.
+
+Come. Well sung. All clapped. She ought to. Come. To me, to him, to her,
+you too, me, us.
+
+--Bravo! Clapclap. Good man, Simon. Clappyclapclap. Encore! Clapclipclap
+clap. Sound as a bell. Bravo, Simon! Clapclopclap. Encore, enclap, said,
+cried, clapped all, Ben Dollard, Lydia Douce, George Lidwell, Pat, Mina
+Kennedy, two gentlemen with two tankards, Cowley, first gent with tank
+and bronze miss Douce and gold MJiss Mina.
+
+Blazes Boylan's smart tan shoes creaked on the barfloor, said before.
+Jingle by monuments of sir John Gray, Horatio onehandled Nelson,
+reverend father Theobald Mathew, jaunted, as said before just now.
+Atrot, in heat, heatseated. _Cloche. Sonnez la. Cloche. Sonnez la._
+Slower the mare went up the hill by the Rotunda, Rutland square. Too
+slow for Boylan, blazes Boylan, impatience Boylan, joggled the mare.
+
+An afterclang of Cowley's chords closed, died on the air made richer.
+
+And Richie Goulding drank his Power and Leopold Bloom his cider drank,
+Lidwell his Guinness, second gentleman said they would partake of two
+more tankards if she did not mind. Miss Kennedy smirked, disserving,
+coral lips, at first, at second. She did not mind.
+
+--Seven days in jail, Ben Dollard said, on bread and water. Then you'd
+sing, Simon, like a garden thrush.
+
+Lionel Simon, singer, laughed. Father Bob Cowley played. Mina Kennedy
+served. Second gentleman paid. Tom Kernan strutted in. Lydia, admired,
+admired. But Bloom sang dumb.
+
+Admiring.
+
+Richie, admiring, descanted on that man's glorious voice. He remembered
+one night long ago. Never forget that night. Si sang _'Twas rank and
+fame_: in Ned Lambert's 'twas. Good God he never heard in all his life a
+note like that he never did _then false one we had better part_ so clear
+so God he never heard _since love lives not_ a clinking voice lives not
+ask Lambert he can tell you too.
+
+Goulding, a flush struggling in his pale, told Mr Bloom, face of the
+night, Si in Ned Lambert's, Dedalus house, sang _'Twas rank and fame._
+
+He, Mr Bloom, listened while he, Richie Goulding, told him, Mr Bloom, of
+the night he, Richie, heard him, Si Dedalus, sing 'TWAS RANK AND FAME in
+his, Ned Lambert's, house.
+
+Brothers-in-law: relations. We never speak as we pass by. Rift in the
+lute I think. Treats him with scorn. See. He admires him all the more.
+The night Si sang. The human voice, two tiny silky chords, wonderful,
+more than all others.
+
+That voice was a lamentation. Calmer now. It's in the silence after you
+feel you hear. Vibrations. Now silent air.
+
+Bloom ungyved his crisscrossed hands and with slack fingers plucked the
+slender catgut thong. He drew and plucked. It buzz, it twanged. While
+Goulding talked of Barraclough's voice production, while Tom Kernan,
+harking back in a retrospective sort of arrangement talked to listening
+Father Cowley, who played a voluntary, who nodded as he played. While
+big Ben Dollard talked with Simon Dedalus, lighting, who nodded as he
+smoked, who smoked.
+
+Thou lost one. All songs on that theme. Yet more Bloom stretched his
+string. Cruel it seems. Let people get fond of each other: lure them on.
+Then tear asunder. Death. Explos. Knock on the head. Outtohelloutofthat.
+Human life. Dignam. Ugh, that rat's tail wriggling! Five bob I gave.
+_Corpus paradisum._ Corncrake croaker: belly like a poisoned pup. Gone.
+They sing. Forgotten. I too; And one day she with. Leave her: get
+tired. Suffer then. Snivel. Big spanishy eyes goggling at nothing. Her
+wavyavyeavyheavyeavyevyevyhair un comb:'d.
+
+Yet too much happy bores. He stretched more, more. Are you not happy in
+your? Twang. It snapped.
+
+Jingle into Dorset street.
+
+Miss Douce withdrew her satiny arm, reproachful, pleased.
+
+--Don't make half so free, said she, till we are better acquainted.
+
+George Lidwell told her really and truly: but she did not believe.
+
+First gentleman told Mina that was so. She asked him was that so. And
+second tankard told her so. That that was so.
+
+Miss Douce, miss Lydia, did not believe: miss Kennedy, Mina, did not
+believe: George Lidwell, no: miss Dou did not: the first, the first:
+gent with the tank: believe, no, no: did not, miss Kenn: Lidlydiawell:
+the tank.
+
+Better write it here. Quills in the postoffice chewed and twisted.
+
+Bald Pat at a sign drew nigh. A pen and ink. He went. A pad. He went. A
+pad to blot. He heard, deaf Pat.
+
+--Yes, Mr Bloom said, teasing the curling catgut line. It certainly is.
+Few lines will do. My present. All that Italian florid music is. Who
+is this wrote? Know the name you know better. Take out sheet notepaper,
+envelope: unconcerned. It's so characteristic.
+
+--Grandest number in the whole opera, Goulding said.
+
+--It is, Bloom said.
+
+Numbers it is. All music when you come to think. Two multiplied by two
+divided by half is twice one. Vibrations: chords those are. One plus two
+plus six is seven. Do anything you like with figures juggling. Always
+find out this equal to that. Symmetry under a cemetery wall. He doesn't
+see my mourning. Callous: all for his own gut. Musemathematics. And you
+think you're listening to the etherial. But suppose you said it like:
+Martha, seven times nine minus x is thirtyfive thousand. Fall quite
+flat. It's on account of the sounds it is.
+
+Instance he's playing now. Improvising. Might be what you like, till you
+hear the words. Want to listen sharp. Hard. Begin all right: then hear
+chords a bit off: feel lost a bit. In and out of sacks, over barrels,
+through wirefences, obstacle race. Time makes the tune. Question of mood
+you're in. Still always nice to hear. Except scales up and down, girls
+learning. Two together nextdoor neighbours. Ought to invent dummy pianos
+for that. _Blumenlied_ I bought for her. The name. Playing it slow,
+a girl, night I came home, the girl. Door of the stables near Cecilia
+street. Milly no taste. Queer because we both, I mean.
+
+Bald deaf Pat brought quite flat pad ink. Pat set with ink pen quite
+flat pad. Pat took plate dish knife fork. Pat went.
+
+It was the only language Mr Dedalus said to Ben. He heard them as a
+boy in Ringabella, Crosshaven, Ringabella, singing their barcaroles.
+Queenstown harbour full of Italian ships. Walking, you know, Ben, in the
+moonlight with those earthquake hats. Blending their voices. God, such
+music, Ben. Heard as a boy. Cross Ringabella haven mooncarole.
+
+Sour pipe removed he held a shield of hand beside his lips that cooed a
+moonlight nightcall, clear from anear, a call from afar, replying.
+
+Down the edge of his _Freeman_ baton ranged Bloom's, your other eye,
+scanning for where did I see that. Callan, Coleman, Dignam Patrick.
+Heigho! Heigho! Fawcett. Aha! Just I was looking...
+
+Hope he's not looking, cute as a rat. He held unfurled his _Freeman._
+Can't see now. Remember write Greek ees. Bloom dipped, Bloo mur: dear
+sir. Dear Henry wrote: dear Mady. Got your lett and flow. Hell did I
+put? Some pock or oth. It is utterl imposs. Underline _imposs._ To write
+today.
+
+Bore this. Bored Bloom tambourined gently with I am just reflecting
+fingers on flat pad Pat brought.
+
+On. Know what I mean. No, change that ee. Accep my poor litt pres
+enclos. Ask her no answ. Hold on. Five Dig. Two about here. Penny the
+gulls. Elijah is com. Seven Davy Byrne's. Is eight about. Say half a
+crown. My poor little pres: p. o. two and six. Write me a long. Do you
+despise? Jingle, have you the? So excited. Why do you call me naught?
+You naughty too? O, Mairy lost the string of her. Bye for today. Yes,
+yes, will tell you. Want to. To keep it up. Call me that other. Other
+world she wrote. My patience are exhaust. To keep it up. You must
+believe. Believe. The tank. It. Is. True.
+
+Folly am I writing? Husbands don't. That's marriage does, their wives.
+Because I'm away from. Suppose. But how? She must. Keep young. If she
+found out. Card in my high grade ha. No, not tell all. Useless pain. If
+they don't see. Woman. Sauce for the gander.
+
+A hackney car, number three hundred and twentyfour, driver Barton James
+of number one Harmony avenue, Donnybrook, on which sat a fare, a young
+gentleman, stylishly dressed in an indigoblue serge suit made by George
+Robert Mesias, tailor and cutter, of number five Eden quay, and wearing
+a straw hat very dressy, bought of John Plasto of number one Great
+Brunswick street, hatter. Eh? This is the jingle that joggled and
+jingled. By Dlugacz' porkshop bright tubes of Agendath trotted a
+gallantbuttocked mare.
+
+--Answering an ad? keen Richie's eyes asked Bloom.
+
+--Yes, Mr Bloom said. Town traveller. Nothing doing, I expect.
+
+Bloom mur: best references. But Henry wrote: it will excite me. You
+know how. In haste. Henry. Greek ee. Better add postscript. What is he
+playing now? Improvising. Intermezzo. P. S. The rum tum tum. How will
+you pun? You punish me? Crooked skirt swinging, whack by. Tell me I want
+to. Know. O. Course if I didn't I wouldn't ask. La la la ree. Trails off
+there sad in minor. Why minor sad? Sign H. They like sad tail at end. P.
+P. S. La la la ree. I feel so sad today. La ree. So lonely. Dee.
+
+He blotted quick on pad of Pat. Envel. Address. Just copy out of paper.
+Murmured: Messrs Callan, Coleman and Co, limited. Henry wrote:
+
+Miss Martha Clifford c/o P. O. Dolphin's Barn Lane Dublin
+
+Blot over the other so he can't read. There. Right. Idea prize titbit.
+Something detective read off blottingpad. Payment at the rate of guinea
+per col. Matcham often thinks the laughing witch. Poor Mrs Purefoy. U.
+P: up.
+
+Too poetical that about the sad. Music did that. Music hath charms.
+Shakespeare said. Quotations every day in the year. To be or not to be.
+Wisdom while you wait.
+
+In Gerard's rosery of Fetter lane he walks, greyedauburn. One life is
+all. One body. Do. But do.
+
+Done anyhow. Postal order, stamp. Postoffice lower down. Walk now.
+Enough. Barney Kiernan's I promised to meet them. Dislike that job.
+
+House of mourning. Walk. Pat! Doesn't hear. Deaf beetle he is.
+
+Car near there now. Talk. Talk. Pat! Doesn't. Settling those napkins.
+Lot of ground he must cover in the day. Paint face behind on him then
+he'd be two. Wish they'd sing more. Keep my mind off.
+
+Bald Pat who is bothered mitred the napkins. Pat is a waiter hard of his
+hearing. Pat is a waiter who waits while you wait. Hee hee hee hee. He
+waits while you wait. Hee hee. A waiter is he. Hee hee hee hee. He waits
+while you wait. While you wait if you wait he will wait while you wait.
+Hee hee hee hee. Hoh. Wait while you wait.
+
+Douce now. Douce Lydia. Bronze and rose.
+
+She had a gorgeous, simply gorgeous, time. And look at the lovely shell
+she brought.
+
+To the end of the bar to him she bore lightly the spiked and winding
+seahorn that he, George Lidwell, solicitor, might hear.
+
+--Listen! she bade him.
+
+Under Tom Kernan's ginhot words the accompanist wove music slow.
+Authentic fact. How Walter Bapty lost his voice. Well, sir, the husband
+took him by the throat. _Scoundrel,_ said he, _You'll sing no more
+lovesongs._ He did, faith, sir Tom. Bob Cowley wove. Tenors get wom.
+Cowley lay back.
+
+Ah, now he heard, she holding it to his ear. Hear! He heard.
+
+Wonderful. She held it to her own. And through the sifted light pale
+gold in contrast glided. To hear.
+
+Tap.
+
+Bloom through the bardoor saw a shell held at their ears. He heard more
+faintly that that they heard, each for herself alone, then each for
+other, hearing the plash of waves, loudly, a silent roar.
+
+Bronze by a weary gold, anear, afar, they listened.
+
+Her ear too is a shell, the peeping lobe there. Been to the seaside.
+Lovely seaside girls. Skin tanned raw. Should have put on coldcream
+first make it brown. Buttered toast. O and that lotion mustn't forget.
+Fever near her mouth. Your head it simply. Hair braided over: shell with
+seaweed. Why do they hide their ears with seaweed hair? And Turks the
+mouth, why? Her eyes over the sheet. Yashmak. Find the way in. A cave.
+No admittance except on business.
+
+The sea they think they hear. Singing. A roar. The blood it is. Souse in
+the ear sometimes. Well, it's a sea. Corpuscle islands.
+
+Wonderful really. So distinct. Again. George Lidwell held its murmur,
+hearing: then laid it by, gently.
+
+--What are the wild waves saying? he asked her, smiled.
+
+Charming, seasmiling and unanswering Lydia on Lidwell smiled.
+
+Tap.
+
+By Larry O'Rourke's, by Larry, bold Larry O', Boylan swayed and Boylan
+turned.
+
+From the forsaken shell miss Mina glided to her tankards waiting. No,
+she was not so lonely archly miss Douce's head let Mr Lidwell know.
+Walks in the moonlight by the sea. No, not alone. With whom? She nobly
+answered: with a gentleman friend.
+
+Bob Cowley's twinkling fingers in the treble played again. The landlord
+has the prior. A little time. Long John. Big Ben. Lightly he played a
+light bright tinkling measure for tripping ladies, arch and smiling,
+and for their gallants, gentlemen friends. One: one, one, one, one, one:
+two, one, three, four.
+
+Sea, wind, leaves, thunder, waters, cows lowing, the cattlemarket,
+cocks, hens don't crow, snakes hissss. There's music everywhere.
+Ruttledge's door: ee creaking. No, that's noise. Minuet of _Don
+Giovanni_ he's playing now. Court dresses of all descriptions in castle
+chambers dancing. Misery. Peasants outside. Green starving faces eating
+dockleaves. Nice that is. Look: look, look, look, look, look: you look
+at us.
+
+That's joyful I can feel. Never have written it. Why? My joy is other
+joy. But both are joys. Yes, joy it must be. Mere fact of music shows
+you are. Often thought she was in the dumps till she began to lilt. Then
+know.
+
+M'Coy valise. My wife and your wife. Squealing cat. Like tearing silk.
+Tongue when she talks like the clapper of a bellows. They can't manage
+men's intervals. Gap in their voices too. Fill me. I'm warm, dark, open.
+Molly in _quis est homo_: Mercadante. My ear against the wall to hear.
+Want a woman who can deliver the goods.
+
+Jog jig jogged stopped. Dandy tan shoe of dandy Boylan socks skyblue
+clocks came light to earth.
+
+O, look we are so! Chamber music. Could make a kind of pun on that.
+It is a kind of music I often thought when she. Acoustics that is.
+Tinkling. Empty vessels make most noise. Because the acoustics, the
+resonance changes according as the weight of the water is equal to
+the law of falling water. Like those rhapsodies of Liszt's, Hungarian,
+gipsyeyed. Pearls. Drops. Rain. Diddleiddle addleaddle ooddleooddle.
+Hissss. Now. Maybe now. Before.
+
+One rapped on a door, one tapped with a knock, did he knock Paul de Kock
+with a loud proud knocker with a cock carracarracarra cock. Cockcock.
+
+Tap.
+
+--_Qui sdegno,_ Ben, said Father Cowley.
+
+--No, Ben, Tom Kernan interfered. _The Croppy Boy._ Our native Doric.
+
+--Ay do, Ben, Mr Dedalus said. Good men and true.
+
+--Do, do, they begged in one.
+
+I'll go. Here, Pat, return. Come. He came, he came, he did not stay. To
+me. How much?
+
+--What key? Six sharps?
+
+--F sharp major, Ben Dollard said.
+
+Bob Cowley's outstretched talons griped the black deepsounding chords.
+
+Must go prince Bloom told Richie prince. No, Richie said. Yes, must. Got
+money somewhere. He's on for a razzle backache spree. Much? He seehears
+lipspeech. One and nine. Penny for yourself. Here. Give him twopence
+tip. Deaf, bothered. But perhaps he has wife and family waiting, waiting
+Patty come home. Hee hee hee hee. Deaf wait while they wait.
+
+But wait. But hear. Chords dark. Lugugugubrious. Low. In a cave of the
+dark middle earth. Embedded ore. Lumpmusic.
+
+The voice of dark age, of unlove, earth's fatigue made grave approach
+and painful, come from afar, from hoary mountains, called on good men
+and true. The priest he sought. With him would he speak a word.
+
+Tap.
+
+Ben Dollard's voice. Base barreltone. Doing his level best to say it.
+Croak of vast manless moonless womoonless marsh. Other comedown. Big
+ships' chandler's business he did once. Remember: rosiny ropes, ships'
+lanterns. Failed to the tune of ten thousand pounds. Now in the Iveagh
+home. Cubicle number so and so. Number one Bass did that for him.
+
+The priest's at home. A false priest's servant bade him welcome. Step
+in. The holy father. With bows a traitor servant. Curlycues of chords.
+
+Ruin them. Wreck their lives. Then build them cubicles to end their days
+in. Hushaby. Lullaby. Die, dog. Little dog, die.
+
+The voice of warning, solemn warning, told them the youth had entered
+a lonely hall, told them how solemn fell his footsteps there, told them
+the gloomy chamber, the vested priest sitting to shrive.
+
+Decent soul. Bit addled now. Thinks he'll win in _Answers,_ poets'
+picture puzzle. We hand you crisp five pound note. Bird sitting hatching
+in a nest. Lay of the last minstrel he thought it was. See blank tee
+what domestic animal? Tee dash ar most courageous mariner. Good voice he
+has still. No eunuch yet with all his belongings.
+
+Listen. Bloom listened. Richie Goulding listened. And by the door deaf
+Pat, bald Pat, tipped Pat, listened. The chords harped slower.
+
+The voice of penance and of grief came slow, embellished, tremulous.
+Ben's contrite beard confessed. _in nomine Domini,_ in God's name he
+knelt. He beat his hand upon his breast, confessing: _mea culpa._
+
+Latin again. That holds them like birdlime. Priest with the communion
+corpus for those women. Chap in the mortuary, coffin or coffey,
+_corpusnomine._ Wonder where that rat is by now. Scrape.
+
+Tap.
+
+They listened. Tankards and miss Kennedy. George Lidwell, eyelid well
+expressive, fullbusted satin. Kernan. Si.
+
+The sighing voice of sorrow sang. His sins. Since Easter he had cursed
+three times. You bitch's bast. And once at masstime he had gone to play.
+Once by the churchyard he had passed and for his mother's rest he had
+not prayed. A boy. A croppy boy.
+
+Bronze, listening, by the beerpull gazed far away. Soulfully. Doesn't
+half know I'm. Molly great dab at seeing anyone looking.
+
+Bronze gazed far sideways. Mirror there. Is that best side of her face?
+They always know. Knock at the door. Last tip to titivate.
+
+Cockcarracarra.
+
+What do they think when they hear music? Way to catch rattlesnakes.
+Night Michael Gunn gave us the box. Tuning up. Shah of Persia liked
+that best. Remind him of home sweet home. Wiped his nose in curtain too.
+Custom his country perhaps. That's music too. Not as bad as it sounds.
+Tootling. Brasses braying asses through uptrunks. Doublebasses helpless,
+gashes in their sides. Woodwinds mooing cows. Semigrand open crocodile
+music hath jaws. Woodwind like Goodwin's name.
+
+She looked fine. Her crocus dress she wore lowcut, belongings on show.
+Clove her breath was always in theatre when she bent to ask a question.
+Told her what Spinoza says in that book of poor papa's. Hypnotised,
+listening. Eyes like that. She bent. Chap in dresscircle staring down
+into her with his operaglass for all he was worth. Beauty of music you
+must hear twice. Nature woman half a look. God made the country man the
+tune. Met him pike hoses. Philosophy. O rocks!
+
+All gone. All fallen. At the siege of Ross his father, at Gorey all his
+brothers fell. To Wexford, we are the boys of Wexford, he would. Last of
+his name and race.
+
+I too. Last of my race. Milly young student. Well, my fault perhaps. No
+son. Rudy. Too late now. Or if not? If not? If still?
+
+He bore no hate.
+
+Hate. Love. Those are names. Rudy. Soon I am old. Big Ben his voice
+unfolded. Great voice Richie Goulding said, a flush struggling in his
+pale, to Bloom soon old. But when was young?
+
+Ireland comes now. My country above the king. She listens. Who fears to
+speak of nineteen four? Time to be shoving. Looked enough.
+
+--_Bless me, father,_ Dollard the croppy cried. _Bless me and let me
+go._
+
+Tap.
+
+Bloom looked, unblessed to go. Got up to kill: on eighteen bob a week.
+Fellows shell out the dibs. Want to keep your weathereye open. Those
+girls, those lovely. By the sad sea waves. Chorusgirl's romance. Letters
+read out for breach of promise. From Chickabiddy's owny Mumpsypum.
+Laughter in court. Henry. I never signed it. The lovely name you.
+
+Low sank the music, air and words. Then hastened. The false priest
+rustling soldier from his cassock. A yeoman captain. They know it all by
+heart. The thrill they itch for. Yeoman cap.
+
+Tap. Tap.
+
+Thrilled she listened, bending in sympathy to hear.
+
+Blank face. Virgin should say: or fingered only. Write something on it:
+page. If not what becomes of them? Decline, despair. Keeps them young.
+Even admire themselves. See. Play on her. Lip blow. Body of white woman,
+a flute alive. Blow gentle. Loud. Three holes, all women. Goddess I
+didn't see. They want it. Not too much polite. That's why he gets them.
+Gold in your pocket, brass in your face. Say something. Make her hear.
+With look to look. Songs without words. Molly, that hurdygurdy boy.
+She knew he meant the monkey was sick. Or because so like the Spanish.
+Understand animals too that way. Solomon did. Gift of nature.
+
+Ventriloquise. My lips closed. Think in my stom. What?
+
+Will? You? I. Want. You. To.
+
+With hoarse rude fury the yeoman cursed, swelling in apoplectic bitch's
+bastard. A good thought, boy, to come. One hour's your time to live,
+your last.
+
+Tap. Tap.
+
+Thrill now. Pity they feel. To wipe away a tear for martyrs that want
+to, dying to, die. For all things dying, for all things born. Poor Mrs
+Purefoy. Hope she's over. Because their wombs.
+
+A liquid of womb of woman eyeball gazed under a fence of lashes, calmly,
+hearing. See real beauty of the eye when she not speaks. On yonder
+river. At each slow satiny heaving bosom's wave (her heaving embon) red
+rose rose slowly sank red rose. Heartbeats: her breath: breath that is
+life. And all the tiny tiny fernfoils trembled of maidenhair.
+
+But look. The bright stars fade. O rose! Castile. The morn. Ha. Lidwell.
+For him then not for. Infatuated. I like that? See her from here though.
+Popped corks, splashes of beerfroth, stacks of empties.
+
+On the smooth jutting beerpull laid Lydia hand, lightly, plumply, leave
+it to my hands. All lost in pity for croppy. Fro, to: to, fro: over
+the polished knob (she knows his eyes, my eyes, her eyes) her thumb and
+finger passed in pity: passed, reposed and, gently touching, then slid
+so smoothly, slowly down, a cool firm white enamel baton protruding
+through their sliding ring.
+
+With a cock with a carra.
+
+Tap. Tap. Tap.
+
+I hold this house. Amen. He gnashed in fury. Traitors swing.
+
+The chords consented. Very sad thing. But had to be. Get out before the
+end. Thanks, that was heavenly. Where's my hat. Pass by her. Can leave
+that Freeman. Letter I have. Suppose she were the? No. Walk, walk,
+walk. Like Cashel Boylo Connoro Coylo Tisdall Maurice Tisntdall Farrell.
+Waaaaaaalk.
+
+Well, I must be. Are you off? Yrfmstbyes. Blmstup. O'er ryehigh blue.
+Ow. Bloom stood up. Soap feeling rather sticky behind. Must have
+sweated: music. That lotion, remember. Well, so long. High grade. Card
+inside. Yes.
+
+By deaf Pat in the doorway straining ear Bloom passed.
+
+At Geneva barrack that young man died. At Passage was his body laid.
+Dolor! O, he dolores! The voice of the mournful chanter called to
+dolorous prayer.
+
+By rose, by satiny bosom, by the fondling hand, by slops, by empties,
+by popped corks, greeting in going, past eyes and maidenhair, bronze and
+faint gold in deepseashadow, went Bloom, soft Bloom, I feel so lonely
+Bloom.
+
+Tap. Tap. Tap.
+
+Pray for him, prayed the bass of Dollard. You who hear in peace. Breathe
+a prayer, drop a tear, good men, good people. He was the croppy boy.
+
+Scaring eavesdropping boots croppy bootsboy Bloom in the Ormond hallway
+heard the growls and roars of bravo, fat backslapping, their boots all
+treading, boots not the boots the boy. General chorus off for a swill to
+wash it down. Glad I avoided.
+
+--Come on, Ben, Simon Dedalus cried. By God, you're as good as ever you
+were.
+
+--Better, said Tomgin Kernan. Most trenchant rendition of that ballad,
+upon my soul and honour It is.
+
+--Lablache, said Father Cowley.
+
+Ben Dollard bulkily cachuchad towards the bar, mightily praisefed
+and all big roseate, on heavyfooted feet, his gouty fingers nakkering
+castagnettes in the air.
+
+Big Benaben Dollard. Big Benben. Big Benben.
+
+Rrr.
+
+And deepmoved all, Simon trumping compassion from foghorn nose, all
+laughing they brought him forth, Ben Dollard, in right good cheer.
+
+--You're looking rubicund, George Lidwell said.
+
+Miss Douce composed her rose to wait.
+
+--Ben machree, said Mr Dedalus, clapping Ben's fat back shoulderblade.
+Fit as a fiddle only he has a lot of adipose tissue concealed about his
+person.
+
+Rrrrrrrsss.
+
+--Fat of death, Simon, Ben Dollard growled.
+
+Richie rift in the lute alone sat: Goulding, Collis, Ward. Uncertainly
+he waited. Unpaid Pat too.
+
+Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
+
+Miss Mina Kennedy brought near her lips to ear of tankard one.
+
+--Mr Dollard, they murmured low.
+
+--Dollard, murmured tankard.
+
+Tank one believed: miss Kenn when she: that doll he was: she doll: the
+tank.
+
+He murmured that he knew the name. The name was familiar to him, that
+is to say. That was to say he had heard the name of. Dollard, was it?
+Dollard, yes.
+
+Yes, her lips said more loudly, Mr Dollard. He sang that song lovely,
+murmured Mina. Mr Dollard. And _The last rose of summer_ was a lovely
+song. Mina loved that song. Tankard loved the song that Mina.
+
+'Tis the last rose of summer dollard left bloom felt wind wound round
+inside.
+
+Gassy thing that cider: binding too. Wait. Postoffice near Reuben J's
+one and eightpence too. Get shut of it. Dodge round by Greek street.
+Wish I hadn't promised to meet. Freer in air. Music. Gets on your
+nerves. Beerpull. Her hand that rocks the cradle rules the. Ben Howth.
+That rules the world.
+
+Far. Far. Far. Far.
+
+Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
+
+Up the quay went Lionelleopold, naughty Henry with letter for Mady, with
+sweets of sin with frillies for Raoul with met him pike hoses went Poldy
+on.
+
+Tap blind walked tapping by the tap the curbstone tapping, tap by tap.
+
+Cowley, he stuns himself with it: kind of drunkenness. Better give way
+only half way the way of a man with a maid. Instance enthusiasts. All
+ears. Not lose a demisemiquaver. Eyes shut. Head nodding in time. Dotty.
+You daren't budge. Thinking strictly prohibited. Always talking shop.
+Fiddlefaddle about notes.
+
+All a kind of attempt to talk. Unpleasant when it stops because you
+never know exac. Organ in Gardiner street. Old Glynn fifty quid a year.
+Queer up there in the cockloft, alone, with stops and locks and keys.
+Seated all day at the organ. Maunder on for hours, talking to himself or
+the other fellow blowing the bellows. Growl angry, then shriek cursing
+(want to have wadding or something in his no don't she cried), then all
+of a soft sudden wee little wee little pipy wind.
+
+Pwee! A wee little wind piped eeee. In Bloom's little wee.
+
+--Was he? Mr Dedalus said, returning with fetched pipe. I was with him
+this morning at poor little Paddy Dignam's...
+
+--Ay, the Lord have mercy on him.
+
+--By the bye there's a tuningfork in there on the...
+
+Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
+
+--The wife has a fine voice. Or had. What? Lidwell asked.
+
+--O, that must be the tuner, Lydia said to Simonlionel first I saw,
+forgot it when he was here.
+
+Blind he was she told George Lidwell second I saw. And played so
+exquisitely, treat to hear. Exquisite contrast: bronzelid, minagold.
+
+--Shout! Ben Dollard shouted, pouring. Sing out!
+
+--'lldo! cried Father Cowley.
+
+Rrrrrr.
+
+I feel I want...
+
+Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap
+
+--Very, Mr Dedalus said, staring hard at a headless sardine.
+
+Under the sandwichbell lay on a bier of bread one last, one lonely, last
+sardine of summer. Bloom alone.
+
+--Very, he stared. The lower register, for choice.
+
+Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
+
+Bloom went by Barry's. Wish I could. Wait. That wonderworker if I had.
+Twentyfour solicitors in that one house. Counted them. Litigation. Love
+one another. Piles of parchment. Messrs Pick and Pocket have power of
+attorney. Goulding, Collis, Ward.
+
+But for example the chap that wallops the big drum. His vocation: Mickey
+Rooney's band. Wonder how it first struck him. Sitting at home after
+pig's cheek and cabbage nursing it in the armchair. Rehearsing his band
+part. Pom. Pompedy. Jolly for the wife. Asses' skins. Welt them through
+life, then wallop after death. Pom. Wallop. Seems to be what you call
+yashmak or I mean kismet. Fate.
+
+Tap. Tap. A stripling, blind, with a tapping cane came taptaptapping by
+Daly's window where a mermaid hair all streaming (but he couldn't see)
+blew whiffs of a mermaid (blind couldn't), mermaid, coolest whiff of
+all.
+
+Instruments. A blade of grass, shell of her hands, then blow. Even
+comb and tissuepaper you can knock a tune out of. Molly in her shift in
+Lombard street west, hair down. I suppose each kind of trade made its
+own, don't you see? Hunter with a horn. Haw. Have you the? _Cloche.
+Sonnez la._ Shepherd his pipe. Pwee little wee. Policeman a whistle.
+Locks and keys! Sweep! Four o'clock's all's well! Sleep! All is lost
+now. Drum? Pompedy. Wait. I know. Towncrier, bumbailiff. Long John.
+Waken the dead. Pom. Dignam. Poor little _nominedomine._ Pom. It is
+music. I mean of course it's all pom pom pom very much what they call
+_da capo._ Still you can hear. As we march, we march along, march along.
+Pom.
+
+I must really. Fff. Now if I did that at a banquet. Just a question of
+custom shah of Persia. Breathe a prayer, drop a tear. All the same
+he must have been a bit of a natural not to see it was a yeoman cap.
+Muffled up. Wonder who was that chap at the grave in the brown macin. O,
+the whore of the lane!
+
+A frowsy whore with black straw sailor hat askew came glazily in the day
+along the quay towards Mr Bloom. When first he saw that form endearing?
+Yes, it is. I feel so lonely. Wet night in the lane. Horn. Who had
+the? Heehaw shesaw. Off her beat here. What is she? Hope she. Psst! Any
+chance of your wash. Knew Molly. Had me decked. Stout lady does be with
+you in the brown costume. Put you off your stroke, that. Appointment
+we made knowing we'd never, well hardly ever. Too dear too near to home
+sweet home. Sees me, does she? Looks a fright in the day. Face like dip.
+Damn her. O, well, she has to live like the rest. Look in here.
+
+In Lionel Marks's antique saleshop window haughty Henry Lionel Leopold
+dear Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom envisaged battered
+candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags. Bargain: six bob. Might
+learn to play. Cheap. Let her pass. Course everything is dear if you
+don't want it. That's what good salesman is. Make you buy what he wants
+to sell. Chap sold me the Swedish razor he shaved me with. Wanted to
+charge me for the edge he gave it. She's passing now. Six bob.
+
+Must be the cider or perhaps the burgund.
+
+Near bronze from anear near gold from afar they chinked their clinking
+glasses all, brighteyed and gallant, before bronze Lydia's tempting last
+rose of summer, rose of Castile. First Lid, De, Cow, Ker, Doll, a fifth:
+Lidwell, Si Dedalus, Bob Cowley, Kernan and big Ben Dollard.
+
+Tap. A youth entered a lonely Ormond hall.
+
+Bloom viewed a gallant pictured hero in Lionel Marks's window. Robert
+Emmet's last words. Seven last words. Of Meyerbeer that is.
+
+--True men like you men.
+
+--Ay, ay, Ben.
+
+--Will lift your glass with us.
+
+They lifted.
+
+Tschink. Tschunk.
+
+Tip. An unseeing stripling stood in the door. He saw not bronze. He saw
+not gold. Nor Ben nor Bob nor Tom nor Si nor George nor tanks nor Richie
+nor Pat. Hee hee hee hee. He did not see.
+
+Seabloom, greaseabloom viewed last words. Softly. _When my country takes
+her place among._
+
+Prrprr.
+
+Must be the bur.
+
+Fff! Oo. Rrpr.
+
+_Nations of the earth._ No-one behind. She's passed. _Then and not till
+then._ Tram kran kran kran. Good oppor. Coming. Krandlkrankran. I'm
+sure it's the burgund. Yes. One, two. _Let my epitaph be._ Kraaaaaa.
+_Written. I have._
+
+Pprrpffrrppffff.
+
+_Done._
+
+
+
+I was just passing the time of day with old Troy of the D. M. P. at the
+corner of Arbour hill there and be damned but a bloody sweep came along
+and he near drove his gear into my eye. I turned around to let him have
+the weight of my tongue when who should I see dodging along Stony Batter
+only Joe Hynes.
+
+--Lo, Joe, says I. How are you blowing? Did you see that bloody
+chimneysweep near shove my eye out with his brush?
+
+--Soot's luck, says Joe. Who's the old ballocks you were talking to?
+
+--Old Troy, says I, was in the force. I'm on two minds not to give that
+fellow in charge for obstructing the thoroughfare with his brooms and
+ladders.
+
+--What are you doing round those parts? says Joe.
+
+--Devil a much, says I. There's a bloody big foxy thief beyond by the
+garrison church at the corner of Chicken lane--old Troy was just giving
+me a wrinkle about him--lifted any God's quantity of tea and sugar
+to pay three bob a week said he had a farm in the county Down off a
+hop-of-my-thumb by the name of Moses Herzog over there near Heytesbury
+street.
+
+--Circumcised? says Joe.
+
+--Ay, says I. A bit off the top. An old plumber named Geraghty. I'm
+hanging on to his taw now for the past fortnight and I can't get a penny
+out of him.
+
+--That the lay you're on now? says Joe.
+
+--Ay, says I. How are the mighty fallen! Collector of bad and doubtful
+debts. But that's the most notorious bloody robber you'd meet in a day's
+walk and the face on him all pockmarks would hold a shower of rain.
+_Tell him,_ says he, _I dare him,_ says he, _and I doubledare him
+to send you round here again or if he does,_ says he, _I'll have
+him summonsed up before the court, so I will, for trading without a
+licence._ And he after stuffing himself till he's fit to burst. Jesus,
+I had to laugh at the little jewy getting his shirt out. _He drink me my
+teas. He eat me my sugars. Because he no pay me my moneys?_
+
+For nonperishable goods bought of Moses Herzog, of 13 Saint Kevin's
+parade in the city of Dublin, Wood quay ward, merchant, hereinafter
+called the vendor, and sold and delivered to Michael E. Geraghty,
+esquire, of 29 Arbour hill in the city of Dublin, Arran quay ward,
+gentleman, hereinafter called the purchaser, videlicet, five pounds
+avoirdupois of first choice tea at three shillings and no pence per
+pound avoirdupois and three stone avoirdupois of sugar, crushed crystal,
+at threepence per pound avoirdupois, the said purchaser debtor to the
+said vendor of one pound five shillings and sixpence sterling for value
+received which amount shall be paid by said purchaser to said vendor in
+weekly instalments every seven calendar days of three shillings and no
+pence sterling: and the said nonperishable goods shall not be pawned or
+pledged or sold or otherwise alienated by the said purchaser but shall
+be and remain and be held to be the sole and exclusive property of the
+said vendor to be disposed of at his good will and pleasure until the
+said amount shall have been duly paid by the said purchaser to the said
+vendor in the manner herein set forth as this day hereby agreed between
+the said vendor, his heirs, successors, trustees and assigns of the one
+part and the said purchaser, his heirs, successors, trustees and assigns
+of the other part.
+
+--Are you a strict t.t.? says Joe.
+
+--Not taking anything between drinks, says I.
+
+--What about paying our respects to our friend? says Joe.
+
+--Who? says I. Sure, he's out in John of God's off his head, poor man.
+
+--Drinking his own stuff? says Joe.
+
+--Ay, says I. Whisky and water on the brain.
+
+--Come around to Barney Kiernan's, says Joe. I want to see the citizen.
+
+--Barney mavourneen's be it, says I. Anything strange or wonderful, Joe?
+
+--Not a word, says Joe. I was up at that meeting in the City Arms.
+
+---What was that, Joe? says I.
+
+--Cattle traders, says Joe, about the foot and mouth disease. I want to
+give the citizen the hard word about it.
+
+So we went around by the Linenhall barracks and the back of the
+courthouse talking of one thing or another. Decent fellow Joe when he
+has it but sure like that he never has it. Jesus, I couldn't get over
+that bloody foxy Geraghty, the daylight robber. For trading without a
+licence, says he.
+
+In Inisfail the fair there lies a land, the land of holy Michan. There
+rises a watchtower beheld of men afar. There sleep the mighty dead as in
+life they slept, warriors and princes of high renown. A pleasant land
+it is in sooth of murmuring waters, fishful streams where sport the
+gurnard, the plaice, the roach, the halibut, the gibbed haddock, the
+grilse, the dab, the brill, the flounder, the pollock, the mixed coarse
+fish generally and other denizens of the aqueous kingdom too numerous to
+be enumerated. In the mild breezes of the west and of the east the lofty
+trees wave in different directions their firstclass foliage, the wafty
+sycamore, the Lebanonian cedar, the exalted planetree, the eugenic
+eucalyptus and other ornaments of the arboreal world with which
+that region is thoroughly well supplied. Lovely maidens sit in close
+proximity to the roots of the lovely trees singing the most lovely songs
+while they play with all kinds of lovely objects as for example golden
+ingots, silvery fishes, crans of herrings, drafts of eels, codlings,
+creels of fingerlings, purple seagems and playful insects. And heroes
+voyage from afar to woo them, from Eblana to Slievemargy, the peerless
+princes of unfettered Munster and of Connacht the just and of smooth
+sleek Leinster and of Cruahan's land and of Armagh the splendid and of
+the noble district of Boyle, princes, the sons of kings.
+
+And there rises a shining palace whose crystal glittering roof is seen
+by mariners who traverse the extensive sea in barks built expressly for
+that purpose, and thither come all herds and fatlings and firstfruits
+of that land for O'Connell Fitzsimon takes toll of them, a chieftain
+descended from chieftains. Thither the extremely large wains bring
+foison of the fields, flaskets of cauliflowers, floats of spinach,
+pineapple chunks, Rangoon beans, strikes of tomatoes, drums of figs,
+drills of Swedes, spherical potatoes and tallies of iridescent kale,
+York and Savoy, and trays of onions, pearls of the earth, and punnets of
+mushrooms and custard marrows and fat vetches and bere and rape and red
+green yellow brown russet sweet big bitter ripe pomellated apples and
+chips of strawberries and sieves of gooseberries, pulpy and pelurious,
+and strawberries fit for princes and raspberries from their canes.
+
+I dare him, says he, and I doubledare him. Come out here, Geraghty, you
+notorious bloody hill and dale robber!
+
+And by that way wend the herds innumerable of bellwethers and flushed
+ewes and shearling rams and lambs and stubble geese and medium steers
+and roaring mares and polled calves and longwoods and storesheep and
+Cuffe's prime springers and culls and sowpigs and baconhogs and the
+various different varieties of highly distinguished swine and Angus
+heifers and polly bulllocks of immaculate pedigree together with prime
+premiated milchcows and beeves: and there is ever heard a trampling,
+cackling, roaring, lowing, bleating, bellowing, rumbling, grunting,
+champing, chewing, of sheep and pigs and heavyhooved kine from
+pasturelands of Lusk and Rush and Carrickmines and from the streamy
+vales of Thomond, from the M'Gillicuddy's reeks the inaccessible and
+lordly Shannon the unfathomable, and from the gentle declivities of the
+place of the race of Kiar, their udders distended with superabundance of
+milk and butts of butter and rennets of cheese and farmer's firkins and
+targets of lamb and crannocks of corn and oblong eggs in great hundreds,
+various in size, the agate with this dun.
+
+So we turned into Barney Kiernan's and there, sure enough, was the
+citizen up in the corner having a great confab with himself and that
+bloody mangy mongrel, Garryowen, and he waiting for what the sky would
+drop in the way of drink.
+
+--There he is, says I, in his gloryhole, with his cruiskeen lawn and his
+load of papers, working for the cause.
+
+The bloody mongrel let a grouse out of him would give you the creeps. Be
+a corporal work of mercy if someone would take the life of that bloody
+dog. I'm told for a fact he ate a good part of the breeches off a
+constabulary man in Santry that came round one time with a blue paper
+about a licence.
+
+--Stand and deliver, says he.
+
+--That's all right, citizen, says Joe. Friends here.
+
+--Pass, friends, says he.
+
+Then he rubs his hand in his eye and says he:
+
+--What's your opinion of the times?
+
+Doing the rapparee and Rory of the hill. But, begob, Joe was equal to
+the occasion.
+
+--I think the markets are on a rise, says he, sliding his hand down his
+fork.
+
+So begob the citizen claps his paw on his knee and he says:
+
+--Foreign wars is the cause of it.
+
+And says Joe, sticking his thumb in his pocket:
+
+--It's the Russians wish to tyrannise.
+
+--Arrah, give over your bloody codding, Joe, says I. I've a thirst on me
+I wouldn't sell for half a crown.
+
+--Give it a name, citizen, says Joe.
+
+--Wine of the country, says he.
+
+--What's yours? says Joe.
+
+--Ditto MacAnaspey, says I.
+
+--Three pints, Terry, says Joe. And how's the old heart, citizen? says
+he.
+
+--Never better, _a chara_, says he. What Garry? Are we going to win? Eh?
+
+And with that he took the bloody old towser by the scruff of the neck
+and, by Jesus, he near throttled him.
+
+The figure seated on a large boulder at the foot of a round tower was
+that of a broadshouldered deepchested stronglimbed frankeyed redhaired
+freelyfreckled shaggybearded widemouthed largenosed longheaded
+deepvoiced barekneed brawnyhanded hairylegged ruddyfaced sinewyarmed
+hero. From shoulder to shoulder he measured several ells and his
+rocklike mountainous knees were covered, as was likewise the rest of his
+body wherever visible, with a strong growth of tawny prickly hair in
+hue and toughness similar to the mountain gorse (_Ulex Europeus_).
+The widewinged nostrils, from which bristles of the same tawny hue
+projected, were of such capaciousness that within their cavernous
+obscurity the fieldlark might easily have lodged her nest. The eyes
+in which a tear and a smile strove ever for the mastery were of the
+dimensions of a goodsized cauliflower. A powerful current of warm breath
+issued at regular intervals from the profound cavity of his mouth
+while in rhythmic resonance the loud strong hale reverberations of his
+formidable heart thundered rumblingly causing the ground, the summit of
+the lofty tower and the still loftier walls of the cave to vibrate and
+tremble.
+
+He wore a long unsleeved garment of recently flayed oxhide reaching
+to the knees in a loose kilt and this was bound about his middle by
+a girdle of plaited straw and rushes. Beneath this he wore trews of
+deerskin, roughly stitched with gut. His nether extremities were encased
+in high Balbriggan buskins dyed in lichen purple, the feet being shod
+with brogues of salted cowhide laced with the windpipe of the same
+beast. From his girdle hung a row of seastones which jangled at every
+movement of his portentous frame and on these were graven with rude
+yet striking art the tribal images of many Irish heroes and heroines of
+antiquity, Cuchulin, Conn of hundred battles, Niall of nine hostages,
+Brian of Kincora, the ardri Malachi, Art MacMurragh, Shane O'Neill,
+Father John Murphy, Owen Roe, Patrick Sarsfield, Red Hugh O'Donnell,
+Red Jim MacDermott, Soggarth Eoghan O'Growney, Michael Dwyer, Francy
+Higgins, Henry Joy M'Cracken, Goliath, Horace Wheatley, Thomas Conneff,
+Peg Woffington, the Village Blacksmith, Captain Moonlight, Captain
+Boycott, Dante Alighieri, Christopher Columbus, S. Fursa, S. Brendan,
+Marshal MacMahon, Charlemagne, Theobald Wolfe Tone, the Mother of the
+Maccabees, the Last of the Mohicans, the Rose of Castile, the Man for
+Galway, The Man that Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo, The Man in the Gap,
+The Woman Who Didn't, Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon Bonaparte, John L.
+Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir
+Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of
+Lammermoor, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick
+W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez,
+Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas
+Cook and Son, the Bold Soldier Boy, Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig
+Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly
+Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve,
+Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama
+Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, Balor of the Evil Eye,
+the Queen of Sheba, Acky Nagle, Joe Nagle, Alessandro Volta, Jeremiah
+O'Donovan Rossa, Don Philip O'Sullivan Beare. A couched spear of
+acuminated granite rested by him while at his feet reposed a savage
+animal of the canine tribe whose stertorous gasps announced that he was
+sunk in uneasy slumber, a supposition confirmed by hoarse growls and
+spasmodic movements which his master repressed from time to time
+by tranquilising blows of a mighty cudgel rudely fashioned out of
+paleolithic stone.
+
+So anyhow Terry brought the three pints Joe was standing and begob the
+sight nearly left my eyes when I saw him land out a quid O, as true as
+I'm telling you. A goodlooking sovereign.
+
+--And there's more where that came from, says he.
+
+--Were you robbing the poorbox, Joe? says I.
+
+--Sweat of my brow, says Joe. 'Twas the prudent member gave me the
+wheeze.
+
+--I saw him before I met you, says I, sloping around by Pill lane and
+Greek street with his cod's eye counting up all the guts of the fish.
+
+Who comes through Michan's land, bedight in sable armour? O'Bloom,
+the son of Rory: it is he. Impervious to fear is Rory's son: he of the
+prudent soul.
+
+--For the old woman of Prince's street, says the citizen, the subsidised
+organ. The pledgebound party on the floor of the house. And look at this
+blasted rag, says he. Look at this, says he. _The Irish Independent,_ if
+you please, founded by Parnell to be the workingman's friend. Listen to
+the births and deaths in the _Irish all for Ireland Independent,_ and
+I'll thank you and the marriages.
+
+And he starts reading them out:
+
+--Gordon, Barnfield crescent, Exeter; Redmayne of Iffley, Saint Anne's
+on Sea: the wife of William T Redmayne of a son. How's that, eh? Wright
+and Flint, Vincent and Gillett to Rotha Marion daughter of Rosa and the
+late George Alfred Gillett, 179 Clapham road, Stockwell, Playwood and
+Ridsdale at Saint Jude's, Kensington by the very reverend Dr Forrest,
+dean of Worcester. Eh? Deaths. Bristow, at Whitehall lane, London: Carr,
+Stoke Newington, of gastritis and heart disease: Cockburn, at the Moat
+house, Chepstow...
+
+--I know that fellow, says Joe, from bitter experience.
+
+--Cockburn. Dimsey, wife of David Dimsey, late of the admiralty: Miller,
+Tottenham, aged eightyfive: Welsh, June 12, at 35 Canning street,
+Liverpool, Isabella Helen. How's that for a national press, eh, my brown
+son! How's that for Martin Murphy, the Bantry jobber?
+
+--Ah, well, says Joe, handing round the boose. Thanks be to God they had
+the start of us. Drink that, citizen.
+
+--I will, says he, honourable person.
+
+--Health, Joe, says I. And all down the form.
+
+Ah! Ow! Don't be talking! I was blue mouldy for the want of that pint.
+Declare to God I could hear it hit the pit of my stomach with a click.
+
+And lo, as they quaffed their cup of joy, a godlike messenger came
+swiftly in, radiant as the eye of heaven, a comely youth and behind him
+there passed an elder of noble gait and countenance, bearing the sacred
+scrolls of law and with him his lady wife a dame of peerless lineage,
+fairest of her race.
+
+Little Alf Bergan popped in round the door and hid behind Barney's
+snug, squeezed up with the laughing. And who was sitting up there in
+the corner that I hadn't seen snoring drunk blind to the world only Bob
+Doran. I didn't know what was up and Alf kept making signs out of the
+door. And begob what was it only that bloody old pantaloon Denis Breen
+in his bathslippers with two bloody big books tucked under his oxter and
+the wife hotfoot after him, unfortunate wretched woman, trotting like a
+poodle. I thought Alf would split.
+
+--Look at him, says he. Breen. He's traipsing all round Dublin with a
+postcard someone sent him with U. p: up on it to take a li...
+
+And he doubled up.
+
+--Take a what? says I.
+
+--Libel action, says he, for ten thousand pounds.
+
+--O hell! says I.
+
+The bloody mongrel began to growl that'd put the fear of God in you
+seeing something was up but the citizen gave him a kick in the ribs.
+
+_--Bi i dho husht,_ says he.
+
+--Who? says Joe.
+
+--Breen, says Alf. He was in John Henry Menton's and then he went round
+to Collis and Ward's and then Tom Rochford met him and sent him round to
+the subsheriff's for a lark. O God, I've a pain laughing. U. p: up. The
+long fellow gave him an eye as good as a process and now the bloody old
+lunatic is gone round to Green street to look for a G man.
+
+--When is long John going to hang that fellow in Mountjoy? says Joe.
+
+--Bergan, says Bob Doran, waking up. Is that Alf Bergan?
+
+--Yes, says Alf. Hanging? Wait till I show you. Here, Terry, give us a
+pony. That bloody old fool! Ten thousand pounds. You should have seen
+long John's eye. U. p...
+
+And he started laughing.
+
+--Who are you laughing at? says Bob Doran. Is that Bergan?
+
+--Hurry up, Terry boy, says Alf.
+
+Terence O'Ryan heard him and straightway brought him a crystal cup
+full of the foamy ebon ale which the noble twin brothers Bungiveagh and
+Bungardilaun brew ever in their divine alevats, cunning as the sons of
+deathless Leda. For they garner the succulent berries of the hop and
+mass and sift and bruise and brew them and they mix therewith sour
+juices and bring the must to the sacred fire and cease not night or day
+from their toil, those cunning brothers, lords of the vat.
+
+Then did you, chivalrous Terence, hand forth, as to the manner born,
+that nectarous beverage and you offered the crystal cup to him that
+thirsted, the soul of chivalry, in beauty akin to the immortals.
+
+But he, the young chief of the O'Bergan's, could ill brook to be outdone
+in generous deeds but gave therefor with gracious gesture a testoon of
+costliest bronze. Thereon embossed in excellent smithwork was seen
+the image of a queen of regal port, scion of the house of Brunswick,
+Victoria her name, Her Most Excellent Majesty, by grace of God of the
+United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland and of the British dominions
+beyond the sea, queen, defender of the faith, Empress of India, even
+she, who bore rule, a victress over many peoples, the wellbeloved, for
+they knew and loved her from the rising of the sun to the going down
+thereof, the pale, the dark, the ruddy and the ethiop.
+
+--What's that bloody freemason doing, says the citizen, prowling up and
+down outside?
+
+--What's that? says Joe.
+
+--Here you are, says Alf, chucking out the rhino. Talking about hanging,
+I'll show you something you never saw. Hangmen's letters. Look at here.
+
+So he took a bundle of wisps of letters and envelopes out of his pocket.
+
+--Are you codding? says I.
+
+--Honest injun, says Alf. Read them.
+
+So Joe took up the letters.
+
+--Who are you laughing at? says Bob Doran.
+
+So I saw there was going to be a bit of a dust Bob's a queer chap when
+the porter's up in him so says I just to make talk:
+
+--How's Willy Murray those times, Alf?
+
+--I don't know, says Alf I saw him just now in Capel street with Paddy
+Dignam. Only I was running after that...
+
+--You what? says Joe, throwing down the letters. With who?
+
+--With Dignam, says Alf.
+
+--Is it Paddy? says Joe.
+
+--Yes, says Alf. Why?
+
+--Don't you know he's dead? says Joe.
+
+--Paddy Dignam dead! says Alf.
+
+--Ay, says Joe.
+
+--Sure I'm after seeing him not five minutes ago, says Alf, as plain as
+a pikestaff.
+
+--Who's dead? says Bob Doran.
+
+--You saw his ghost then, says Joe, God between us and harm.
+
+--What? says Alf. Good Christ, only five... What?... And Willy Murray
+with him, the two of them there near whatdoyoucallhim's... What? Dignam
+dead?
+
+--What about Dignam? says Bob Doran. Who's talking about...?
+
+--Dead! says Alf. He's no more dead than you are.
+
+--Maybe so, says Joe. They took the liberty of burying him this morning
+anyhow.
+
+--Paddy? says Alf.
+
+--Ay, says Joe. He paid the debt of nature, God be merciful to him.
+
+--Good Christ! says Alf.
+
+Begob he was what you might call flabbergasted.
+
+In the darkness spirit hands were felt to flutter and when prayer by
+tantras had been directed to the proper quarter a faint but increasing
+luminosity of ruby light became gradually visible, the apparition of
+the etheric double being particularly lifelike owing to the discharge
+of jivic rays from the crown of the head and face. Communication was
+effected through the pituitary body and also by means of the orangefiery
+and scarlet rays emanating from the sacral region and solar plexus.
+Questioned by his earthname as to his whereabouts in the heavenworld he
+stated that he was now on the path of pr l ya or return but was still
+submitted to trial at the hands of certain bloodthirsty entities on the
+lower astral levels. In reply to a question as to his first sensations
+in the great divide beyond he stated that previously he had seen as in a
+glass darkly but that those who had passed over had summit possibilities
+of atmic development opened up to them. Interrogated as to whether life
+there resembled our experience in the flesh he stated that he had heard
+from more favoured beings now in the spirit that their abodes were
+equipped with every modern home comfort such as talafana, alavatar,
+hatakalda, wataklasat and that the highest adepts were steeped in
+waves of volupcy of the very purest nature. Having requested a quart of
+buttermilk this was brought and evidently afforded relief. Asked if he
+had any message for the living he exhorted all who were still at the
+wrong side of Maya to acknowledge the true path for it was reported
+in devanic circles that Mars and Jupiter were out for mischief on the
+eastern angle where the ram has power. It was then queried whether there
+were any special desires on the part of the defunct and the reply was:
+_We greet you, friends of earth, who are still in the body. Mind C. K.
+doesn't pile it on._ It was ascertained that the reference was to Mr
+Cornelius Kelleher, manager of Messrs H. J. O'Neill's popular
+funeral establishment, a personal friend of the defunct, who had been
+responsible for the carrying out of the interment arrangements. Before
+departing he requested that it should be told to his dear son Patsy that
+the other boot which he had been looking for was at present under the
+commode in the return room and that the pair should be sent to Cullen's
+to be soled only as the heels were still good. He stated that this had
+greatly perturbed his peace of mind in the other region and earnestly
+requested that his desire should be made known.
+
+Assurances were given that the matter would be attended to and it was
+intimated that this had given satisfaction.
+
+He is gone from mortal haunts: O'Dignam, sun of our morning. Fleet was
+his foot on the bracken: Patrick of the beamy brow. Wail, Banba, with
+your wind: and wail, O ocean, with your whirlwind.
+
+--There he is again, says the citizen, staring out.
+
+--Who? says I.
+
+--Bloom, says he. He's on point duty up and down there for the last ten
+minutes.
+
+And, begob, I saw his physog do a peep in and then slidder off again.
+
+Little Alf was knocked bawways. Faith, he was.
+
+--Good Christ! says he. I could have sworn it was him.
+
+And says Bob Doran, with the hat on the back of his poll, lowest
+blackguard in Dublin when he's under the influence:
+
+--Who said Christ is good?
+
+--I beg your parsnips, says Alf.
+
+--Is that a good Christ, says Bob Doran, to take away poor little Willy
+Dignam?
+
+--Ah, well, says Alf, trying to pass it off. He's over all his troubles.
+
+But Bob Doran shouts out of him.
+
+--He's a bloody ruffian, I say, to take away poor little Willy Dignam.
+
+Terry came down and tipped him the wink to keep quiet, that they didn't
+want that kind of talk in a respectable licensed premises. And Bob Doran
+starts doing the weeps about Paddy Dignam, true as you're there.
+
+--The finest man, says he, snivelling, the finest purest character.
+
+The tear is bloody near your eye. Talking through his bloody hat. Fitter
+for him go home to the little sleepwalking bitch he married, Mooney, the
+bumbailiff's daughter, mother kept a kip in Hardwicke street, that
+used to be stravaging about the landings Bantam Lyons told me that was
+stopping there at two in the morning without a stitch on her, exposing
+her person, open to all comers, fair field and no favour.
+
+--The noblest, the truest, says he. And he's gone, poor little Willy,
+poor little Paddy Dignam.
+
+And mournful and with a heavy heart he bewept the extinction of that
+beam of heaven.
+
+Old Garryowen started growling again at Bloom that was skeezing round
+the door.
+
+--Come in, come on, he won't eat you, says the citizen.
+
+So Bloom slopes in with his cod's eye on the dog and he asks Terry was
+Martin Cunningham there.
+
+--O, Christ M'Keown, says Joe, reading one of the letters. Listen to
+this, will you?
+
+And he starts reading out one.
+
+_7 Hunter Street, Liverpool. To the High Sheriff of Dublin, Dublin._
+
+_Honoured sir i beg to offer my services in the abovementioned painful
+case i hanged Joe Gann in Bootle jail on the 12 of Febuary 1900 and i
+hanged..._
+
+--Show us, Joe, says I.
+
+--_... private Arthur Chace for fowl murder of Jessie Tilsit in
+Pentonville prison and i was assistant when..._
+
+--Jesus, says I.
+
+--_... Billington executed the awful murderer Toad Smith..._
+
+The citizen made a grab at the letter.
+
+--Hold hard, says Joe, _i have a special nack of putting the noose once
+in he can't get out hoping to be favoured i remain, honoured sir, my
+terms is five ginnees._
+
+_H. RUMBOLD, MASTER BARBER._
+
+--And a barbarous bloody barbarian he is too, says the citizen.
+
+--And the dirty scrawl of the wretch, says Joe. Here, says he, take them
+to hell out of my sight, Alf. Hello, Bloom, says he, what will you have?
+
+So they started arguing about the point, Bloom saying he wouldn't and he
+couldn't and excuse him no offence and all to that and then he said well
+he'd just take a cigar. Gob, he's a prudent member and no mistake.
+
+--Give us one of your prime stinkers, Terry, says Joe.
+
+And Alf was telling us there was one chap sent in a mourning card with a
+black border round it.
+
+--They're all barbers, says he, from the black country that would hang
+their own fathers for five quid down and travelling expenses.
+
+And he was telling us there's two fellows waiting below to pull his
+heels down when he gets the drop and choke him properly and then they
+chop up the rope after and sell the bits for a few bob a skull.
+
+In the dark land they bide, the vengeful knights of the razor. Their
+deadly coil they grasp: yea, and therein they lead to Erebus whatsoever
+wight hath done a deed of blood for I will on nowise suffer it even so
+saith the Lord.
+
+So they started talking about capital punishment and of course Bloom
+comes out with the why and the wherefore and all the codology of the
+business and the old dog smelling him all the time I'm told those jewies
+does have a sort of a queer odour coming off them for dogs about I don't
+know what all deterrent effect and so forth and so on.
+
+--There's one thing it hasn't a deterrent effect on, says Alf.
+
+--What's that? says Joe.
+
+--The poor bugger's tool that's being hanged, says Alf.
+
+--That so? says Joe.
+
+--God's truth, says Alf. I heard that from the head warder that was in
+
+Kilmainham when they hanged Joe Brady, the invincible. He told me when
+they cut him down after the drop it was standing up in their faces like
+a poker.
+
+--Ruling passion strong in death, says Joe, as someone said.
+
+--That can be explained by science, says Bloom. It's only a natural
+phenomenon, don't you see, because on account of the...
+
+And then he starts with his jawbreakers about phenomenon and science and
+this phenomenon and the other phenomenon.
+
+The distinguished scientist Herr Professor Luitpold Blumenduft tendered
+medical evidence to the effect that the instantaneous fracture of the
+cervical vertebrae and consequent scission of the spinal cord would,
+according to the best approved tradition of medical science, be
+calculated to inevitably produce in the human subject a violent
+ganglionic stimulus of the nerve centres of the genital apparatus,
+thereby causing the elastic pores of the _corpora cavernosa_ to rapidly
+dilate in such a way as to instantaneously facilitate the flow of blood
+to that part of the human anatomy known as the penis or male organ
+resulting in the phenomenon which has been denominated by the faculty
+a morbid upwards and outwards philoprogenitive erection _in articulo
+mortis per diminutionem capitis._
+
+So of course the citizen was only waiting for the wink of the word and
+he starts gassing out of him about the invincibles and the old guard and
+the men of sixtyseven and who fears to speak of ninetyeight and Joe with
+him about all the fellows that were hanged, drawn and transported for
+the cause by drumhead courtmartial and a new Ireland and new this, that
+and the other. Talking about new Ireland he ought to go and get a new
+dog so he ought. Mangy ravenous brute sniffing and sneezing all round
+the place and scratching his scabs. And round he goes to Bob Doran that
+was standing Alf a half one sucking up for what he could get. So of
+course Bob Doran starts doing the bloody fool with him:
+
+--Give us the paw! Give the paw, doggy! Good old doggy! Give the paw
+here! Give us the paw!
+
+Arrah, bloody end to the paw he'd paw and Alf trying to keep him from
+tumbling off the bloody stool atop of the bloody old dog and he talking
+all kinds of drivel about training by kindness and thoroughbred dog and
+intelligent dog: give you the bloody pip. Then he starts scraping a few
+bits of old biscuit out of the bottom of a Jacobs' tin he told Terry to
+bring. Gob, he golloped it down like old boots and his tongue hanging
+out of him a yard long for more. Near ate the tin and all, hungry bloody
+mongrel.
+
+And the citizen and Bloom having an argument about the point, the
+brothers Sheares and Wolfe Tone beyond on Arbour Hill and Robert Emmet
+and die for your country, the Tommy Moore touch about Sara Curran and
+she's far from the land. And Bloom, of course, with his knockmedown
+cigar putting on swank with his lardy face. Phenomenon! The fat heap he
+married is a nice old phenomenon with a back on her like a ballalley.
+Time they were stopping up in the _City Arms_ pisser Burke told me there
+was an old one there with a cracked loodheramaun of a nephew and Bloom
+trying to get the soft side of her doing the mollycoddle playing bézique
+to come in for a bit of the wampum in her will and not eating meat of a
+Friday because the old one was always thumping her craw and taking the
+lout out for a walk. And one time he led him the rounds of Dublin and,
+by the holy farmer, he never cried crack till he brought him home as
+drunk as a boiled owl and he said he did it to teach him the evils of
+alcohol and by herrings, if the three women didn't near roast him, it's
+a queer story, the old one, Bloom's wife and Mrs O'Dowd that kept the
+hotel. Jesus, I had to laugh at pisser Burke taking them off chewing
+the fat. And Bloom with his _but don't you see?_ and _but on the other
+hand_. And sure, more be token, the lout I'm told was in Power's after,
+the blender's, round in Cope street going home footless in a cab five
+times in the week after drinking his way through all the samples in the
+bloody establishment. Phenomenon!
+
+--The memory of the dead, says the citizen taking up his pintglass and
+glaring at Bloom.
+
+--Ay, ay, says Joe.
+
+--You don't grasp my point, says Bloom. What I mean is...
+
+--_Sinn Fein!_ says the citizen. _Sinn Fein amhain!_ The friends we love
+are by our side and the foes we hate before us.
+
+The last farewell was affecting in the extreme. From the belfries far
+and near the funereal deathbell tolled unceasingly while all around the
+gloomy precincts rolled the ominous warning of a hundred muffled drums
+punctuated by the hollow booming of pieces of ordnance. The deafening
+claps of thunder and the dazzling flashes of lightning which lit up
+the ghastly scene testified that the artillery of heaven had lent its
+supernatural pomp to the already gruesome spectacle. A torrential rain
+poured down from the floodgates of the angry heavens upon the
+bared heads of the assembled multitude which numbered at the
+lowest computation five hundred thousand persons. A posse of Dublin
+Metropolitan police superintended by the Chief Commissioner in person
+maintained order in the vast throng for whom the York street brass and
+reed band whiled away the intervening time by admirably rendering on
+their blackdraped instruments the matchless melody endeared to us from
+the cradle by Speranza's plaintive muse. Special quick excursion trains
+and upholstered charabancs had been provided for the comfort of our
+country cousins of whom there were large contingents. Considerable
+amusement was caused by the favourite Dublin streetsingers L-n-h-n and
+M-ll-g-n who sang _The Night before Larry was stretched_ in their usual
+mirth-provoking fashion. Our two inimitable drolls did a roaring trade
+with their broadsheets among lovers of the comedy element and nobody
+who has a corner in his heart for real Irish fun without vulgarity
+will grudge them their hardearned pennies. The children of the Male and
+Female Foundling Hospital who thronged the windows overlooking the scene
+were delighted with this unexpected addition to the day's entertainment
+and a word of praise is due to the Little Sisters of the Poor for their
+excellent idea of affording the poor fatherless and motherless children
+a genuinely instructive treat. The viceregal houseparty which included
+many wellknown ladies was chaperoned by Their Excellencies to the most
+favourable positions on the grandstand while the picturesque foreign
+delegation known as the Friends of the Emerald Isle was accommodated
+on a tribune directly opposite. The delegation, present in full force,
+consisted of Commendatore Bacibaci Beninobenone (the semiparalysed
+_doyen_ of the party who had to be assisted to his seat by the aid of a
+powerful steam crane), Monsieur Pierrepaul Petitépatant, the Grandjoker
+Vladinmire Pokethankertscheff, the Archjoker Leopold Rudolph von
+Schwanzenbad-Hodenthaler, Countess Marha Virága Kisászony Putrápesthi,
+Hiram Y. Bomboost, Count Athanatos Karamelopulos, Ali Baba Backsheesh
+Rahat Lokum Effendi, Senor Hidalgo Caballero Don Pecadillo y Palabras
+y Paternoster de la Malora de la Malaria, Hokopoko Harakiri, Hi Hung
+Chang, Olaf Kobberkeddelsen, Mynheer Trik van Trumps, Pan Poleaxe
+Paddyrisky, Goosepond Prhklstr Kratchinabritchisitch, Borus
+Hupinkoff, Herr Hurhausdirektorpresident Hans Chuechli-Steuerli,
+Nationalgymnasiummuseumsanatoriumandsuspensoriumsordinaryprivatdocent
+-generalhistoryspecialprofessordoctor Kriegfried Ueberallgemein. All the
+delegates without exception expressed themselves in the strongest
+possible heterogeneous terms concerning the nameless barbarity which
+they had been called upon to witness. An animated altercation (in which
+all took part) ensued among the F. O. T. E. I. as to whether the eighth
+or the ninth of March was the correct date of the birth of Ireland's
+patron saint. In the course of the argument cannonballs, scimitars,
+boomerangs, blunderbusses, stinkpots, meatchoppers, umbrellas,
+catapults, knuckledusters, sandbags, lumps of pig iron were resorted to
+and blows were freely exchanged. The baby policeman, Constable
+MacFadden, summoned by special courier from Booterstown, quickly
+restored order and with lightning promptitude proposed the seventeenth
+of the month as a solution equally honourable for both contending
+parties. The readywitted ninefooter's suggestion at once appealed to all
+and was unanimously accepted. Constable MacFadden was heartily
+congratulated by all the F.O.T.E.I., several of whom were bleeding
+profusely. Commendatore Beninobenone having been extricated from
+underneath the presidential armchair, it was explained by his legal
+adviser Avvocato Pagamimi that the various articles secreted in his
+thirtytwo pockets had been abstracted by him during the affray from the
+pockets of his junior colleagues in the hope of bringing them to their
+senses. The objects (which included several hundred ladies' and
+gentlemen's gold and silver watches) were promptly restored to their
+rightful owners and general harmony reigned supreme.
+
+Quietly, unassumingly Rumbold stepped on to the scaffold in faultless
+morning dress and wearing his favourite flower, the _Gladiolus
+Cruentus_. He announced his presence by that gentle Rumboldian cough
+which so many have tried (unsuccessfully) to imitate--short,
+painstaking yet withal so characteristic of the man. The arrival of the
+worldrenowned headsman was greeted by a roar of acclamation from the
+huge concourse, the viceregal ladies waving their handkerchiefs in
+their excitement while the even more excitable foreign delegates
+cheered vociferously in a medley of cries, _hoch, banzai, eljen, zivio,
+chinchin, polla kronia, hiphip, vive, Allah_, amid which the ringing
+_evviva_ of the delegate of the land of song (a high double F recalling
+those piercingly lovely notes with which the eunuch Catalani beglamoured
+our greatgreatgrandmothers) was easily distinguishable. It was exactly
+seventeen o'clock. The signal for prayer was then promptly given by
+megaphone and in an instant all heads were bared, the commendatore's
+patriarchal sombrero, which has been in the possession of his family
+since the revolution of Rienzi, being removed by his medical adviser
+in attendance, Dr Pippi. The learned prelate who administered the last
+comforts of holy religion to the hero martyr when about to pay the death
+penalty knelt in a most christian spirit in a pool of rainwater, his
+cassock above his hoary head, and offered up to the throne of grace
+fervent prayers of supplication. Hand by the block stood the grim figure
+of the executioner, his visage being concealed in a tengallon pot
+with two circular perforated apertures through which his eyes glowered
+furiously. As he awaited the fatal signal he tested the edge of his
+horrible weapon by honing it upon his brawny forearm or decapitated
+in rapid succession a flock of sheep which had been provided by the
+admirers of his fell but necessary office. On a handsome mahogany table
+near him were neatly arranged the quartering knife, the various
+finely tempered disembowelling appliances (specially supplied by the
+worldfamous firm of cutlers, Messrs John Round and Sons, Sheffield),
+a terra cotta saucepan for the reception of the duodenum, colon,
+blind intestine and appendix etc when successfully extracted and two
+commodious milkjugs destined to receive the most precious blood of the
+most precious victim. The housesteward of the amalgamated cats' and
+dogs' home was in attendance to convey these vessels when replenished
+to that beneficent institution. Quite an excellent repast consisting of
+rashers and eggs, fried steak and onions, done to a nicety, delicious
+hot breakfast rolls and invigorating tea had been considerately provided
+by the authorities for the consumption of the central figure of the
+tragedy who was in capital spirits when prepared for death and evinced
+the keenest interest in the proceedings from beginning to end but he,
+with an abnegation rare in these our times, rose nobly to the occasion
+and expressed the dying wish (immediately acceded to) that the meal
+should be divided in aliquot parts among the members of the sick and
+indigent roomkeepers' association as a token of his regard and esteem.
+The _nec_ and _non plus ultra_ of emotion were reached when the blushing
+bride elect burst her way through the serried ranks of the bystanders
+and flung herself upon the muscular bosom of him who was about to be
+launched into eternity for her sake. The hero folded her willowy form in
+a loving embrace murmuring fondly _Sheila, my own_. Encouraged by
+this use of her christian name she kissed passionately all the various
+suitable areas of his person which the decencies of prison garb
+permitted her ardour to reach. She swore to him as they mingled the salt
+streams of their tears that she would ever cherish his memory, that she
+would never forget her hero boy who went to his death with a song on his
+lips as if he were but going to a hurling match in Clonturk park. She
+brought back to his recollection the happy days of blissful childhood
+together on the banks of Anna Liffey when they had indulged in the
+innocent pastimes of the young and, oblivious of the dreadful present,
+they both laughed heartily, all the spectators, including the venerable
+pastor, joining in the general merriment. That monster audience simply
+rocked with delight. But anon they were overcome with grief and clasped
+their hands for the last time. A fresh torrent of tears burst from their
+lachrymal ducts and the vast concourse of people, touched to the inmost
+core, broke into heartrending sobs, not the least affected being the
+aged prebendary himself. Big strong men, officers of the peace and
+genial giants of the royal Irish constabulary, were making frank use of
+their handkerchiefs and it is safe to say that there was not a dry eye
+in that record assemblage. A most romantic incident occurred when a
+handsome young Oxford graduate, noted for his chivalry towards the fair
+sex, stepped forward and, presenting his visiting card, bankbook
+and genealogical tree, solicited the hand of the hapless young lady,
+requesting her to name the day, and was accepted on the spot. Every lady
+in the audience was presented with a tasteful souvenir of the occasion
+in the shape of a skull and crossbones brooch, a timely and generous
+act which evoked a fresh outburst of emotion: and when the gallant young
+Oxonian (the bearer, by the way, of one of the most timehonoured names
+in Albion's history) placed on the finger of his blushing _fiancée_ an
+expensive engagement ring with emeralds set in the form of a
+fourleaved shamrock the excitement knew no bounds. Nay, even the
+ster provostmarshal, lieutenantcolonel Tomkin-Maxwell ffrenchmullan
+Tomlinson, who presided on the sad occasion, he who had blown a
+considerable number of sepoys from the cannonmouth without flinching,
+could not now restrain his natural emotion. With his mailed gauntlet
+he brushed away a furtive tear and was overheard, by those privileged
+burghers who happened to be in his immediate _entourage,_ to murmur to
+himself in a faltering undertone:
+
+--God blimey if she aint a clinker, that there bleeding tart. Blimey it
+makes me kind of bleeding cry, straight, it does, when I sees her cause
+I thinks of my old mashtub what's waiting for me down Limehouse way.
+
+So then the citizen begins talking about the Irish language and the
+corporation meeting and all to that and the shoneens that can't speak
+their own language and Joe chipping in because he stuck someone for a
+quid and Bloom putting in his old goo with his twopenny stump that
+he cadged off of Joe and talking about the Gaelic league and the
+antitreating league and drink, the curse of Ireland. Antitreating is
+about the size of it. Gob, he'd let you pour all manner of drink down
+his throat till the Lord would call him before you'd ever see the froth
+of his pint. And one night I went in with a fellow into one of their
+musical evenings, song and dance about she could get up on a truss of
+hay she could my Maureen Lay and there was a fellow with a Ballyhooly
+blue ribbon badge spiffing out of him in Irish and a lot of colleen
+bawns going about with temperance beverages and selling medals
+and oranges and lemonade and a few old dry buns, gob, flahoolagh
+entertainment, don't be talking. Ireland sober is Ireland free. And
+then an old fellow starts blowing into his bagpipes and all the gougers
+shuffling their feet to the tune the old cow died of. And one or two
+sky pilots having an eye around that there was no goings on with the
+females, hitting below the belt.
+
+So howandever, as I was saying, the old dog seeing the tin was empty
+starts mousing around by Joe and me. I'd train him by kindness, so I
+would, if he was my dog. Give him a rousing fine kick now and again
+where it wouldn't blind him.
+
+--Afraid he'll bite you? says the citizen, jeering.
+
+--No, says I. But he might take my leg for a lamppost.
+
+So he calls the old dog over.
+
+--What's on you, Garry? says he.
+
+Then he starts hauling and mauling and talking to him in Irish and the
+old towser growling, letting on to answer, like a duet in the opera.
+Such growling you never heard as they let off between them. Someone that
+has nothing better to do ought to write a letter _pro bono publico_ to
+the papers about the muzzling order for a dog the like of that. Growling
+and grousing and his eye all bloodshot from the drouth is in it and the
+hydrophobia dropping out of his jaws.
+
+All those who are interested in the spread of human culture among the
+lower animals (and their name is legion) should make a point of not
+missing the really marvellous exhibition of cynanthropy given by the
+famous old Irish red setter wolfdog formerly known by the _sobriquet_ of
+Garryowen and recently rechristened by his large circle of friends and
+acquaintances Owen Garry. The exhibition, which is the result of years
+of training by kindness and a carefully thoughtout dietary system,
+comprises, among other achievements, the recitation of verse. Our
+greatest living phonetic expert (wild horses shall not drag it from us!)
+has left no stone unturned in his efforts to delucidate and compare
+the verse recited and has found it bears a _striking_ resemblance (the
+italics are ours) to the ranns of ancient Celtic bards. We are not
+speaking so much of those delightful lovesongs with which the writer who
+conceals his identity under the graceful pseudonym of the Little
+Sweet Branch has familiarised the bookloving world but rather (as
+a contributor D. O. C. points out in an interesting communication
+published by an evening contemporary) of the harsher and more personal
+note which is found in the satirical effusions of the famous Raftery and
+of Donal MacConsidine to say nothing of a more modern lyrist at present
+very much in the public eye. We subjoin a specimen which has been
+rendered into English by an eminent scholar whose name for the moment we
+are not at liberty to disclose though we believe that our readers will
+find the topical allusion rather more than an indication. The metrical
+system of the canine original, which recalls the intricate alliterative
+and isosyllabic rules of the Welsh englyn, is infinitely more
+complicated but we believe our readers will agree that the spirit has
+been well caught. Perhaps it should be added that the effect is greatly
+increased if Owen's verse be spoken somewhat slowly and indistinctly in
+a tone suggestive of suppressed rancour.
+
+ _The curse of my curses
+ Seven days every day
+ And seven dry Thursdays
+ On you, Barney Kiernan,
+ Has no sup of water
+ To cool my courage,
+ And my guts red roaring
+ After Lowry's lights._
+
+So he told Terry to bring some water for the dog and, gob, you could
+hear him lapping it up a mile off. And Joe asked him would he have
+another.
+
+--I will, says he, _a chara_, to show there's no ill feeling.
+
+Gob, he's not as green as he's cabbagelooking. Arsing around from one
+pub to another, leaving it to your own honour, with old Giltrap's dog
+and getting fed up by the ratepayers and corporators. Entertainment for
+man and beast. And says Joe:
+
+--Could you make a hole in another pint?
+
+--Could a swim duck? says I.
+
+--Same again, Terry, says Joe. Are you sure you won't have anything in
+the way of liquid refreshment? says he.
+
+--Thank you, no, says Bloom. As a matter of fact I just wanted to meet
+Martin Cunningham, don't you see, about this insurance of poor Dignam's.
+Martin asked me to go to the house. You see, he, Dignam, I mean, didn't
+serve any notice of the assignment on the company at the time and
+nominally under the act the mortgagee can't recover on the policy.
+
+--Holy Wars, says Joe, laughing, that's a good one if old Shylock is
+landed. So the wife comes out top dog, what?
+
+--Well, that's a point, says Bloom, for the wife's admirers.
+
+--Whose admirers? says Joe.
+
+--The wife's advisers, I mean, says Bloom.
+
+Then he starts all confused mucking it up about mortgagor under the act
+like the lord chancellor giving it out on the bench and for the benefit
+of the wife and that a trust is created but on the other hand that
+Dignam owed Bridgeman the money and if now the wife or the widow
+contested the mortgagee's right till he near had the head of me addled
+with his mortgagor under the act. He was bloody safe he wasn't run in
+himself under the act that time as a rogue and vagabond only he had a
+friend in court. Selling bazaar tickets or what do you call it royal
+Hungarian privileged lottery. True as you're there. O, commend me to an
+israelite! Royal and privileged Hungarian robbery.
+
+So Bob Doran comes lurching around asking Bloom to tell Mrs Dignam he
+was sorry for her trouble and he was very sorry about the funeral and
+to tell her that he said and everyone who knew him said that there was
+never a truer, a finer than poor little Willy that's dead to tell her.
+Choking with bloody foolery. And shaking Bloom's hand doing the tragic
+to tell her that. Shake hands, brother. You're a rogue and I'm another.
+
+--Let me, said he, so far presume upon our acquaintance which, however
+slight it may appear if judged by the standard of mere time, is founded,
+as I hope and believe, on a sentiment of mutual esteem as to request of
+you this favour. But, should I have overstepped the limits of reserve
+let the sincerity of my feelings be the excuse for my boldness.
+
+--No, rejoined the other, I appreciate to the full the motives which
+actuate your conduct and I shall discharge the office you entrust to
+me consoled by the reflection that, though the errand be one of sorrow,
+this proof of your confidence sweetens in some measure the bitterness of
+the cup.
+
+--Then suffer me to take your hand, said he. The goodness of your heart,
+I feel sure, will dictate to you better than my inadequate words
+the expressions which are most suitable to convey an emotion whose
+poignancy, were I to give vent to my feelings, would deprive me even of
+speech.
+
+And off with him and out trying to walk straight. Boosed at five
+o'clock. Night he was near being lagged only Paddy Leonard knew the
+bobby, 14A. Blind to the world up in a shebeen in Bride street after
+closing time, fornicating with two shawls and a bully on guard, drinking
+porter out of teacups. And calling himself a Frenchy for the shawls,
+Joseph Manuo, and talking against the Catholic religion, and he serving
+mass in Adam and Eve's when he was young with his eyes shut, who wrote
+the new testament, and the old testament, and hugging and smugging. And
+the two shawls killed with the laughing, picking his pockets, the bloody
+fool and he spilling the porter all over the bed and the two shawls
+screeching laughing at one another. _How is your testament? Have you got
+an old testament?_ Only Paddy was passing there, I tell you what. Then
+see him of a Sunday with his little concubine of a wife, and she wagging
+her tail up the aisle of the chapel with her patent boots on her, no
+less, and her violets, nice as pie, doing the little lady. Jack Mooney's
+sister. And the old prostitute of a mother procuring rooms to street
+couples. Gob, Jack made him toe the line. Told him if he didn't patch up
+the pot, Jesus, he'd kick the shite out of him.
+
+So Terry brought the three pints.
+
+--Here, says Joe, doing the honours. Here, citizen.
+
+--_Slan leat_, says he.
+
+--Fortune, Joe, says I. Good health, citizen.
+
+Gob, he had his mouth half way down the tumbler already. Want a small
+fortune to keep him in drinks.
+
+--Who is the long fellow running for the mayoralty, Alf? says Joe.
+
+--Friend of yours, says Alf.
+
+--Nannan? says Joe. The mimber?
+
+--I won't mention any names, says Alf.
+
+--I thought so, says Joe. I saw him up at that meeting now with William
+Field, M. P., the cattle traders.
+
+--Hairy Iopas, says the citizen, that exploded volcano, the darling of
+all countries and the idol of his own.
+
+So Joe starts telling the citizen about the foot and mouth disease
+and the cattle traders and taking action in the matter and the citizen
+sending them all to the rightabout and Bloom coming out with his
+sheepdip for the scab and a hoose drench for coughing calves and the
+guaranteed remedy for timber tongue. Because he was up one time in a
+knacker's yard. Walking about with his book and pencil here's my head
+and my heels are coming till Joe Cuffe gave him the order of the boot
+for giving lip to a grazier. Mister Knowall. Teach your grandmother how
+to milk ducks. Pisser Burke was telling me in the hotel the wife used
+to be in rivers of tears some times with Mrs O'Dowd crying her eyes out
+with her eight inches of fat all over her. Couldn't loosen her farting
+strings but old cod's eye was waltzing around her showing her how to do
+it. What's your programme today? Ay. Humane methods. Because the poor
+animals suffer and experts say and the best known remedy that doesn't
+cause pain to the animal and on the sore spot administer gently. Gob,
+he'd have a soft hand under a hen.
+
+Ga Ga Gara. Klook Klook Klook. Black Liz is our hen. She lays eggs for
+us. When she lays her egg she is so glad. Gara. Klook Klook Klook. Then
+comes good uncle Leo. He puts his hand under black Liz and takes her
+fresh egg. Ga ga ga ga Gara. Klook Klook Klook.
+
+--Anyhow, says Joe, Field and Nannetti are going over tonight to London
+to ask about it on the floor of the house of commons.
+
+--Are you sure, says Bloom, the councillor is going? I wanted to see
+him, as it happens.
+
+--Well, he's going off by the mailboat, says Joe, tonight.
+
+--That's too bad, says Bloom. I wanted particularly. Perhaps only Mr
+Field is going. I couldn't phone. No. You're sure?
+
+--Nannan's going too, says Joe. The league told him to ask a question
+tomorrow about the commissioner of police forbidding Irish games in the
+park. What do you think of that, citizen? _The Sluagh na h-Eireann_.
+
+Mr Cowe Conacre (Multifarnham. Nat.): Arising out of the question of
+my honourable friend, the member for Shillelagh, may I ask the right
+honourable gentleman whether the government has issued orders that these
+animals shall be slaughtered though no medical evidence is forthcoming
+as to their pathological condition?
+
+Mr Allfours (Tamoshant. Con.): Honourable members are already in
+possession of the evidence produced before a committee of the whole
+house. I feel I cannot usefully add anything to that. The answer to the
+honourable member's question is in the affirmative.
+
+Mr Orelli O'Reilly (Montenotte. Nat.): Have similar orders been issued
+for the slaughter of human animals who dare to play Irish games in the
+Phoenix park?
+
+Mr Allfours: The answer is in the negative.
+
+Mr Cowe Conacre: Has the right honourable gentleman's famous
+Mitchelstown telegram inspired the policy of gentlemen on the Treasury
+bench? (O! O!)
+
+Mr Allfours: I must have notice of that question.
+
+Mr Staylewit (Buncombe. Ind.): Don't hesitate to shoot.
+
+(Ironical opposition cheers.)
+
+The speaker: Order! Order!
+
+(The house rises. Cheers.)
+
+--There's the man, says Joe, that made the Gaelic sports revival. There
+he is sitting there. The man that got away James Stephens. The champion
+of all Ireland at putting the sixteen pound shot. What was your best
+throw, citizen?
+
+--_Na bacleis_, says the citizen, letting on to be modest. There was a
+time I was as good as the next fellow anyhow.
+
+--Put it there, citizen, says Joe. You were and a bloody sight better.
+
+--Is that really a fact? says Alf.
+
+--Yes, says Bloom. That's well known. Did you not know that?
+
+So off they started about Irish sports and shoneen games the like of
+lawn tennis and about hurley and putting the stone and racy of the soil
+and building up a nation once again and all to that. And of course Bloom
+had to have his say too about if a fellow had a rower's heart violent
+exercise was bad. I declare to my antimacassar if you took up a straw
+from the bloody floor and if you said to Bloom: _Look at, Bloom. Do you
+see that straw? That's a straw_. Declare to my aunt he'd talk about it
+for an hour so he would and talk steady.
+
+A most interesting discussion took place in the ancient hall of _Brian
+O'ciarnain's_ in _Sraid na Bretaine Bheag_, under the auspices of
+_Sluagh na h-Eireann_, on the revival of ancient Gaelic sports and the
+importance of physical culture, as understood in ancient Greece and
+ancient Rome and ancient Ireland, for the development of the race.
+The venerable president of the noble order was in the chair and the
+attendance was of large dimensions. After an instructive discourse by
+the chairman, a magnificent oration eloquently and forcibly expressed,
+a most interesting and instructive discussion of the usual high standard
+of excellence ensued as to the desirability of the revivability of
+the ancient games and sports of our ancient Panceltic forefathers. The
+wellknown and highly respected worker in the cause of our old tongue, Mr
+Joseph M'Carthy Hynes, made an eloquent appeal for the resuscitation of
+the ancient Gaelic sports and pastimes, practised morning and evening
+by Finn MacCool, as calculated to revive the best traditions of manly
+strength and prowess handed down to us from ancient ages. L. Bloom, who
+met with a mixed reception of applause and hisses, having espoused the
+negative the vocalist chairman brought the discussion to a close, in
+response to repeated requests and hearty plaudits from all parts of
+a bumper house, by a remarkably noteworthy rendering of the immortal
+Thomas Osborne Davis' evergreen verses (happily too familiar to need
+recalling here) _A nation once again_ in the execution of which the
+veteran patriot champion may be said without fear of contradiction
+to have fairly excelled himself. The Irish Caruso-Garibaldi was in
+superlative form and his stentorian notes were heard to the greatest
+advantage in the timehonoured anthem sung as only our citizen can sing
+it. His superb highclass vocalism, which by its superquality greatly
+enhanced his already international reputation, was vociferously
+applauded by the large audience among which were to be noticed many
+prominent members of the clergy as well as representatives of the press
+and the bar and the other learned professions. The proceedings then
+terminated.
+
+Amongst the clergy present were the very rev. William Delany, S. J., L.
+L. D.; the rt rev. Gerald Molloy, D. D.; the rev. P. J. Kavanagh, C. S.
+Sp.; the rev. T. Waters, C. C.; the rev. John M. Ivers, P. P.; the rev.
+P. J. Cleary, O. S. F.; the rev. L. J. Hickey, O. P.; the very rev. Fr.
+Nicholas, O. S. F. C.; the very rev. B. Gorman, O. D. C.; the rev. T.
+Maher, S. J.; the very rev. James Murphy, S. J.; the rev. John Lavery,
+V. F.; the very rev. William Doherty, D. D.; the rev. Peter Fagan, O.
+M.; the rev. T. Brangan, O. S. A.; the rev. J. Flavin, C. C.; the
+rev. M. A. Hackett, C. C.; the rev. W. Hurley, C. C.; the rt rev. Mgr
+M'Manus, V. G.; the rev. B. R. Slattery, O. M. I.; the very rev. M.
+D. Scally, P. P.; the rev. F. T. Purcell, O. P.; the very rev. Timothy
+canon Gorman, P. P.; the rev. J. Flanagan, C. C. The laity included P.
+Fay, T. Quirke, etc., etc.
+
+--Talking about violent exercise, says Alf, were you at that
+Keogh-Bennett match?
+
+--No, says Joe.
+
+--I heard So and So made a cool hundred quid over it, says Alf.
+
+--Who? Blazes? says Joe.
+
+And says Bloom:
+
+--What I meant about tennis, for example, is the agility and training
+the eye.
+
+--Ay, Blazes, says Alf. He let out that Myler was on the beer to run up
+the odds and he swatting all the time.
+
+--We know him, says the citizen. The traitor's son. We know what put
+English gold in his pocket.
+
+---True for you, says Joe.
+
+And Bloom cuts in again about lawn tennis and the circulation of the
+blood, asking Alf:
+
+--Now, don't you think, Bergan?
+
+--Myler dusted the floor with him, says Alf. Heenan and Sayers was only
+a bloody fool to it. Handed him the father and mother of a beating. See
+the little kipper not up to his navel and the big fellow swiping. God,
+he gave him one last puck in the wind, Queensberry rules and all, made
+him puke what he never ate.
+
+It was a historic and a hefty battle when Myler and Percy were scheduled
+to don the gloves for the purse of fifty sovereigns. Handicapped as he
+was by lack of poundage, Dublin's pet lamb made up for it by superlative
+skill in ringcraft. The final bout of fireworks was a gruelling for both
+champions. The welterweight sergeantmajor had tapped some lively claret
+in the previous mixup during which Keogh had been receivergeneral of
+rights and lefts, the artilleryman putting in some neat work on the
+pet's nose, and Myler came on looking groggy. The soldier got to
+business, leading off with a powerful left jab to which the Irish
+gladiator retaliated by shooting out a stiff one flush to the point of
+Bennett's jaw. The redcoat ducked but the Dubliner lifted him with a
+left hook, the body punch being a fine one. The men came to handigrips.
+Myler quickly became busy and got his man under, the bout ending with
+the bulkier man on the ropes, Myler punishing him. The Englishman, whose
+right eye was nearly closed, took his corner where he was liberally
+drenched with water and when the bell went came on gamey and brimful of
+pluck, confident of knocking out the fistic Eblanite in jigtime. It was
+a fight to a finish and the best man for it. The two fought like tigers
+and excitement ran fever high. The referee twice cautioned Pucking Percy
+for holding but the pet was tricky and his footwork a treat to watch.
+After a brisk exchange of courtesies during which a smart upper cut of
+the military man brought blood freely from his opponent's mouth the
+lamb suddenly waded in all over his man and landed a terrific left to
+Battling Bennett's stomach, flooring him flat. It was a knockout clean
+and clever. Amid tense expectation the Portobello bruiser was being
+counted out when Bennett's second Ole Pfotts Wettstein threw in the
+towel and the Santry boy was declared victor to the frenzied cheers of
+the public who broke through the ringropes and fairly mobbed him with
+delight.
+
+--He knows which side his bread is buttered, says Alf. I hear he's
+running a concert tour now up in the north.
+
+--He is, says Joe. Isn't he?
+
+--Who? says Bloom. Ah, yes. That's quite true. Yes, a kind of summer
+tour, you see. Just a holiday.
+
+--Mrs B. is the bright particular star, isn't she? says Joe.
+
+--My wife? says Bloom. She's singing, yes. I think it will be a success
+too.
+
+He's an excellent man to organise. Excellent.
+
+Hoho begob says I to myself says I. That explains the milk in the
+cocoanut and absence of hair on the animal's chest. Blazes doing the
+tootle on the flute. Concert tour. Dirty Dan the dodger's son off Island
+bridge that sold the same horses twice over to the government to fight
+the Boers. Old Whatwhat. I called about the poor and water rate, Mr
+Boylan. You what? The water rate, Mr Boylan. You whatwhat? That's the
+bucko that'll organise her, take my tip. 'Twixt me and you Caddareesh.
+
+Pride of Calpe's rocky mount, the ravenhaired daughter of Tweedy. There
+grew she to peerless beauty where loquat and almond scent the air. The
+gardens of Alameda knew her step: the garths of olives knew and bowed.
+The chaste spouse of Leopold is she: Marion of the bountiful bosoms.
+
+And lo, there entered one of the clan of the O'Molloy's, a comely hero
+of white face yet withal somewhat ruddy, his majesty's counsel learned
+in the law, and with him the prince and heir of the noble line of
+Lambert.
+
+--Hello, Ned.
+
+--Hello, Alf.
+
+--Hello, Jack.
+
+--Hello, Joe.
+
+--God save you, says the citizen.
+
+--Save you kindly, says J. J. What'll it be, Ned?
+
+--Half one, says Ned.
+
+So J. J. ordered the drinks.
+
+--Were you round at the court? says Joe.
+
+--Yes, says J. J. He'll square that, Ned, says he.
+
+--Hope so, says Ned.
+
+Now what were those two at? J. J. getting him off the grand jury list
+and the other give him a leg over the stile. With his name in Stubbs's.
+Playing cards, hobnobbing with flash toffs with a swank glass in their
+eye, adrinking fizz and he half smothered in writs and garnishee orders.
+Pawning his gold watch in Cummins of Francis street where no-one would
+know him in the private office when I was there with Pisser releasing
+his boots out of the pop. What's your name, sir? Dunne, says he. Ay, and
+done says I. Gob, he'll come home by weeping cross one of those days,
+I'm thinking.
+
+--Did you see that bloody lunatic Breen round there? says Alf. U. p: up.
+
+--Yes, says J. J. Looking for a private detective.
+
+--Ay, says Ned. And he wanted right go wrong to address the court only
+Corny Kelleher got round him telling him to get the handwriting examined
+first.
+
+--Ten thousand pounds, says Alf, laughing. God, I'd give anything to
+hear him before a judge and jury.
+
+--Was it you did it, Alf? says Joe. The truth, the whole truth and
+nothing but the truth, so help you Jimmy Johnson.
+
+--Me? says Alf. Don't cast your nasturtiums on my character.
+
+--Whatever statement you make, says Joe, will be taken down in evidence
+against you.
+
+--Of course an action would lie, says J. J. It implies that he is not
+_compos mentis_. U. p: up.
+
+_--Compos_ your eye! says Alf, laughing. Do you know that he's balmy?
+Look at his head. Do you know that some mornings he has to get his hat
+on with a shoehorn.
+
+--Yes, says J. J., but the truth of a libel is no defence to an
+indictment for publishing it in the eyes of the law.
+
+--Ha ha, Alf, says Joe.
+
+--Still, says Bloom, on account of the poor woman, I mean his wife.
+
+--Pity about her, says the citizen. Or any other woman marries a half
+and half.
+
+--How half and half? says Bloom. Do you mean he...
+
+--Half and half I mean, says the citizen. A fellow that's neither fish
+nor flesh.
+
+--Nor good red herring, says Joe.
+
+--That what's I mean, says the citizen. A pishogue, if you know what
+that is.
+
+Begob I saw there was trouble coming. And Bloom explaining he meant on
+account of it being cruel for the wife having to go round after the
+old stuttering fool. Cruelty to animals so it is to let that bloody
+povertystricken Breen out on grass with his beard out tripping him,
+bringing down the rain. And she with her nose cockahoop after she
+married him because a cousin of his old fellow's was pewopener to the
+pope. Picture of him on the wall with his Smashall Sweeney's moustaches,
+the signior Brini from Summerhill, the eyetallyano, papal Zouave to the
+Holy Father, has left the quay and gone to Moss street. And who was
+he, tell us? A nobody, two pair back and passages, at seven shillings a
+week, and he covered with all kinds of breastplates bidding defiance to
+the world.
+
+--And moreover, says J. J., a postcard is publication. It was held to
+be sufficient evidence of malice in the testcase Sadgrove v. Hole. In my
+opinion an action might lie.
+
+Six and eightpence, please. Who wants your opinion? Let us drink our
+pints in peace. Gob, we won't be let even do that much itself.
+
+--Well, good health, Jack, says Ned.
+
+--Good health, Ned, says J. J.
+
+---There he is again, says Joe.
+
+--Where? says Alf.
+
+And begob there he was passing the door with his books under his oxter
+and the wife beside him and Corny Kelleher with his wall eye looking in
+as they went past, talking to him like a father, trying to sell him a
+secondhand coffin.
+
+--How did that Canada swindle case go off? says Joe.
+
+--Remanded, says J. J.
+
+One of the bottlenosed fraternity it was went by the name of James
+Wought alias Saphiro alias Spark and Spiro, put an ad in the papers
+saying he'd give a passage to Canada for twenty bob. What? Do you see
+any green in the white of my eye? Course it was a bloody barney. What?
+Swindled them all, skivvies and badhachs from the county Meath, ay, and
+his own kidney too. J. J. was telling us there was an ancient Hebrew
+Zaretsky or something weeping in the witnessbox with his hat on him,
+swearing by the holy Moses he was stuck for two quid.
+
+--Who tried the case? says Joe.
+
+--Recorder, says Ned.
+
+--Poor old sir Frederick, says Alf, you can cod him up to the two eyes.
+
+--Heart as big as a lion, says Ned. Tell him a tale of woe about arrears
+of rent and a sick wife and a squad of kids and, faith, he'll dissolve
+in tears on the bench.
+
+--Ay, says Alf. Reuben J was bloody lucky he didn't clap him in the dock
+the other day for suing poor little Gumley that's minding stones, for
+the corporation there near Butt bridge.
+
+And he starts taking off the old recorder letting on to cry:
+
+--A most scandalous thing! This poor hardworking man! How many children?
+Ten, did you say?
+
+--Yes, your worship. And my wife has the typhoid.
+
+--And the wife with typhoid fever! Scandalous! Leave the court
+immediately, sir. No, sir, I'll make no order for payment. How dare you,
+sir, come up before me and ask me to make an order! A poor hardworking
+industrious man! I dismiss the case.
+
+And whereas on the sixteenth day of the month of the oxeyed goddess and
+in the third week after the feastday of the Holy and Undivided Trinity,
+the daughter of the skies, the virgin moon being then in her first
+quarter, it came to pass that those learned judges repaired them to the
+halls of law. There master Courtenay, sitting in his own chamber, gave
+his rede and master Justice Andrews, sitting without a jury in the
+probate court, weighed well and pondered the claim of the first
+chargeant upon the property in the matter of the will propounded and
+final testamentary disposition _in re_ the real and personal estate of
+the late lamented Jacob Halliday, vintner, deceased, versus Livingstone,
+an infant, of unsound mind, and another. And to the solemn court of
+Green street there came sir Frederick the Falconer. And he sat him there
+about the hour of five o'clock to administer the law of the brehons at
+the commission for all that and those parts to be holden in and for the
+county of the city of Dublin. And there sat with him the high sinhedrim
+of the twelve tribes of Iar, for every tribe one man, of the tribe of
+Patrick and of the tribe of Hugh and of the tribe of Owen and of the
+tribe of Conn and of the tribe of Oscar and of the tribe of Fergus and
+of the tribe of Finn and of the tribe of Dermot and of the tribe of
+Cormac and of the tribe of Kevin and of the tribe of Caolte and of the
+tribe of Ossian, there being in all twelve good men and true. And he
+conjured them by Him who died on rood that they should well and
+truly try and true deliverance make in the issue joined between their
+sovereign lord the king and the prisoner at the bar and true verdict
+give according to the evidence so help them God and kiss the book. And
+they rose in their seats, those twelve of Iar, and they swore by
+the name of Him Who is from everlasting that they would do His
+rightwiseness. And straightway the minions of the law led forth from
+their donjon keep one whom the sleuthhounds of justice had apprehended
+in consequence of information received. And they shackled him hand and
+foot and would take of him ne bail ne mainprise but preferred a charge
+against him for he was a malefactor.
+
+--Those are nice things, says the citizen, coming over here to Ireland
+filling the country with bugs.
+
+So Bloom lets on he heard nothing and he starts talking with Joe,
+telling him he needn't trouble about that little matter till the first
+but if he would just say a word to Mr Crawford. And so Joe swore high
+and holy by this and by that he'd do the devil and all.
+
+--Because, you see, says Bloom, for an advertisement you must have
+repetition. That's the whole secret.
+
+--Rely on me, says Joe.
+
+--Swindling the peasants, says the citizen, and the poor of Ireland. We
+want no more strangers in our house.
+
+--O, I'm sure that will be all right, Hynes, says Bloom. It's just that
+Keyes, you see.
+
+--Consider that done, says Joe.
+
+--Very kind of you, says Bloom.
+
+--The strangers, says the citizen. Our own fault. We let them come in.
+We brought them in. The adulteress and her paramour brought the Saxon
+robbers here.
+
+--Decree _nisi,_ says J. J.
+
+And Bloom letting on to be awfully deeply interested in nothing, a
+spider's web in the corner behind the barrel, and the citizen scowling
+after him and the old dog at his feet looking up to know who to bite and
+when.
+
+--A dishonoured wife, says the citizen, that's what's the cause of all
+our misfortunes.
+
+--And here she is, says Alf, that was giggling over the _Police Gazette_
+with Terry on the counter, in all her warpaint.
+
+--Give us a squint at her, says I.
+
+And what was it only one of the smutty yankee pictures Terry borrows off
+of Corny Kelleher. Secrets for enlarging your private parts. Misconduct
+of society belle. Norman W. Tupper, wealthy Chicago contractor, finds
+pretty but faithless wife in lap of officer Taylor. Belle in her
+bloomers misconducting herself, and her fancyman feeling for her tickles
+and Norman W. Tupper bouncing in with his peashooter just in time to be
+late after she doing the trick of the loop with officer Taylor.
+
+--O jakers, Jenny, says Joe, how short your shirt is!
+
+--There's hair, Joe, says I. Get a queer old tailend of corned beef off
+of that one, what?
+
+So anyhow in came John Wyse Nolan and Lenehan with him with a face on
+him as long as a late breakfast.
+
+--Well, says the citizen, what's the latest from the scene of action?
+What did those tinkers in the city hall at their caucus meeting decide
+about the Irish language?
+
+O'Nolan, clad in shining armour, low bending made obeisance to the
+puissant and high and mighty chief of all Erin and did him to wit of
+that which had befallen, how that the grave elders of the most obedient
+city, second of the realm, had met them in the tholsel, and there, after
+due prayers to the gods who dwell in ether supernal, had taken solemn
+counsel whereby they might, if so be it might be, bring once more into
+honour among mortal men the winged speech of the seadivided Gael.
+
+--It's on the march, says the citizen. To hell with the bloody brutal
+Sassenachs and their _patois._
+
+So J. J. puts in a word, doing the toff about one story was good till
+you heard another and blinking facts and the Nelson policy, putting your
+blind eye to the telescope and drawing up a bill of attainder to impeach
+a nation, and Bloom trying to back him up moderation and botheration and
+their colonies and their civilisation.
+
+--Their syphilisation, you mean, says the citizen. To hell with
+them! The curse of a goodfornothing God light sideways on the bloody
+thicklugged sons of whores' gets! No music and no art and no literature
+worthy of the name. Any civilisation they have they stole from us.
+Tonguetied sons of bastards' ghosts.
+
+--The European family, says J. J....
+
+--They're not European, says the citizen. I was in Europe with Kevin
+Egan of Paris. You wouldn't see a trace of them or their language
+anywhere in Europe except in a _cabinet d'aisance._
+
+And says John Wyse:
+
+--Full many a flower is born to blush unseen.
+
+And says Lenehan that knows a bit of the lingo:
+
+--_Conspuez les Anglais! Perfide Albion!_
+
+He said and then lifted he in his rude great brawny strengthy hands the
+medher of dark strong foamy ale and, uttering his tribal slogan _Lamh
+Dearg Abu_, he drank to the undoing of his foes, a race of mighty
+valorous heroes, rulers of the waves, who sit on thrones of alabaster
+silent as the deathless gods.
+
+--What's up with you, says I to Lenehan. You look like a fellow that had
+lost a bob and found a tanner.
+
+--Gold cup, says he.
+
+--Who won, Mr Lenehan? says Terry.
+
+_--Throwaway,_ says he, at twenty to one. A rank outsider. And the rest
+nowhere.
+
+--And Bass's mare? says Terry.
+
+--Still running, says he. We're all in a cart. Boylan plunged two quid
+on my tip _Sceptre_ for himself and a lady friend.
+
+--I had half a crown myself, says Terry, on _Zinfandel_ that Mr Flynn
+gave me. Lord Howard de Walden's.
+
+--Twenty to one, says Lenehan. Such is life in an outhouse. _Throwaway,_
+says he. Takes the biscuit, and talking about bunions. Frailty, thy name
+is _Sceptre._
+
+So he went over to the biscuit tin Bob Doran left to see if there was
+anything he could lift on the nod, the old cur after him backing his
+luck with his mangy snout up. Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard.
+
+--Not there, my child, says he.
+
+--Keep your pecker up, says Joe. She'd have won the money only for the
+other dog.
+
+And J. J. and the citizen arguing about law and history with Bloom
+sticking in an odd word.
+
+--Some people, says Bloom, can see the mote in others' eyes but they
+can't see the beam in their own.
+
+--_Raimeis_, says the citizen. There's no-one as blind as the fellow
+that won't see, if you know what that means. Where are our missing
+twenty millions of Irish should be here today instead of four, our lost
+tribes? And our potteries and textiles, the finest in the whole world!
+And our wool that was sold in Rome in the time of Juvenal and our flax
+and our damask from the looms of Antrim and our Limerick lace, our
+tanneries and our white flint glass down there by Ballybough and our
+Huguenot poplin that we have since Jacquard de Lyon and our woven silk
+and our Foxford tweeds and ivory raised point from the Carmelite convent
+in New Ross, nothing like it in the whole wide world. Where are the
+Greek merchants that came through the pillars of Hercules, the Gibraltar
+now grabbed by the foe of mankind, with gold and Tyrian purple to
+sell in Wexford at the fair of Carmen? Read Tacitus and Ptolemy, even
+Giraldus Cambrensis. Wine, peltries, Connemara marble, silver from
+Tipperary, second to none, our farfamed horses even today, the Irish
+hobbies, with king Philip of Spain offering to pay customs duties for
+the right to fish in our waters. What do the yellowjohns of Anglia owe
+us for our ruined trade and our ruined hearths? And the beds of the
+Barrow and Shannon they won't deepen with millions of acres of marsh and
+bog to make us all die of consumption?
+
+--As treeless as Portugal we'll be soon, says John Wyse, or Heligoland
+with its one tree if something is not done to reafforest the land.
+Larches, firs, all the trees of the conifer family are going fast. I was
+reading a report of lord Castletown's...
+
+--Save them, says the citizen, the giant ash of Galway and the chieftain
+elm of Kildare with a fortyfoot bole and an acre of foliage. Save the
+trees of Ireland for the future men of Ireland on the fair hills of
+Eire, O.
+
+--Europe has its eyes on you, says Lenehan.
+
+The fashionable international world attended EN MASSE this afternoon
+at the wedding of the chevalier Jean Wyse de Neaulan, grand high chief
+ranger of the Irish National Foresters, with Miss Fir Conifer of Pine
+Valley. Lady Sylvester Elmshade, Mrs Barbara Lovebirch, Mrs Poll Ash,
+Mrs Holly Hazeleyes, Miss Daphne Bays, Miss Dorothy Canebrake, Mrs Clyde
+Twelvetrees, Mrs Rowan Greene, Mrs Helen Vinegadding, Miss Virginia
+Creeper, Miss Gladys Beech, Miss Olive Garth, Miss Blanche Maple, Mrs
+Maud Mahogany, Miss Myra Myrtle, Miss Priscilla Elderflower, Miss
+Bee Honeysuckle, Miss Grace Poplar, Miss O Mimosa San, Miss Rachel
+Cedarfrond, the Misses Lilian and Viola Lilac, Miss Timidity Aspenall,
+Mrs Kitty Dewey-Mosse, Miss May Hawthorne, Mrs Gloriana Palme, Mrs Liana
+Forrest, Mrs Arabella Blackwood and Mrs Norma Holyoake of Oakholme Regis
+graced the ceremony by their presence. The bride who was given away by
+her father, the M'Conifer of the Glands, looked exquisitely charming in
+a creation carried out in green mercerised silk, moulded on an underslip
+of gloaming grey, sashed with a yoke of broad emerald and finished with
+a triple flounce of darkerhued fringe, the scheme being relieved by
+bretelles and hip insertions of acorn bronze. The maids of honour, Miss
+Larch Conifer and Miss Spruce Conifer, sisters of the bride, wore very
+becoming costumes in the same tone, a dainty _motif_ of plume rose being
+worked into the pleats in a pinstripe and repeated capriciously in the
+jadegreen toques in the form of heron feathers of paletinted coral.
+Senhor Enrique Flor presided at the organ with his wellknown ability
+and, in addition to the prescribed numbers of the nuptial mass, played
+a new and striking arrangement of _Woodman, spare that tree_ at the
+conclusion of the service. On leaving the church of Saint Fiacre _in
+Horto_ after the papal blessing the happy pair were subjected to a
+playful crossfire of hazelnuts, beechmast, bayleaves, catkins of willow,
+ivytod, hollyberries, mistletoe sprigs and quicken shoots. Mr and Mrs
+Wyse Conifer Neaulan will spend a quiet honeymoon in the Black Forest.
+
+--And our eyes are on Europe, says the citizen. We had our trade with
+Spain and the French and with the Flemings before those mongrels were
+pupped, Spanish ale in Galway, the winebark on the winedark waterway.
+
+--And will again, says Joe.
+
+--And with the help of the holy mother of God we will again, says the
+citizen, clapping his thigh, our harbours that are empty will be full
+again, Queenstown, Kinsale, Galway, Blacksod Bay, Ventry in the kingdom
+of Kerry, Killybegs, the third largest harbour in the wide world with
+a fleet of masts of the Galway Lynches and the Cavan O'Reillys and the
+O'Kennedys of Dublin when the earl of Desmond could make a treaty with
+the emperor Charles the Fifth himself. And will again, says he, when the
+first Irish battleship is seen breasting the waves with our own flag to
+the fore, none of your Henry Tudor's harps, no, the oldest flag afloat,
+the flag of the province of Desmond and Thomond, three crowns on a blue
+field, the three sons of Milesius.
+
+And he took the last swig out of the pint. Moya. All wind and piss like
+a tanyard cat. Cows in Connacht have long horns. As much as his bloody
+life is worth to go down and address his tall talk to the assembled
+multitude in Shanagolden where he daren't show his nose with the Molly
+Maguires looking for him to let daylight through him for grabbing the
+holding of an evicted tenant.
+
+--Hear, hear to that, says John Wyse. What will you have?
+
+--An imperial yeomanry, says Lenehan, to celebrate the occasion.
+
+--Half one, Terry, says John Wyse, and a hands up. Terry! Are you
+asleep?
+
+--Yes, sir, says Terry. Small whisky and bottle of Allsop. Right, sir.
+
+Hanging over the bloody paper with Alf looking for spicy bits instead of
+attending to the general public. Picture of a butting match, trying to
+crack their bloody skulls, one chap going for the other with his head
+down like a bull at a gate. And another one: _Black Beast Burned in
+Omaha, Ga_. A lot of Deadwood Dicks in slouch hats and they firing at a
+Sambo strung up in a tree with his tongue out and a bonfire under
+him. Gob, they ought to drown him in the sea after and electrocute and
+crucify him to make sure of their job.
+
+--But what about the fighting navy, says Ned, that keeps our foes at
+bay?
+
+--I'll tell you what about it, says the citizen. Hell upon earth it is.
+Read the revelations that's going on in the papers about flogging on
+the training ships at Portsmouth. A fellow writes that calls himself
+_Disgusted One_.
+
+So he starts telling us about corporal punishment and about the crew
+of tars and officers and rearadmirals drawn up in cocked hats and the
+parson with his protestant bible to witness punishment and a young lad
+brought out, howling for his ma, and they tie him down on the buttend of
+a gun.
+
+--A rump and dozen, says the citizen, was what that old ruffian sir John
+Beresford called it but the modern God's Englishman calls it caning on
+the breech.
+
+And says John Wyse:
+
+--'Tis a custom more honoured in the breach than in the observance.
+
+Then he was telling us the master at arms comes along with a long cane
+and he draws out and he flogs the bloody backside off of the poor lad
+till he yells meila murder.
+
+--That's your glorious British navy, says the citizen, that bosses the
+earth.
+
+The fellows that never will be slaves, with the only hereditary chamber
+on the face of God's earth and their land in the hands of a dozen
+gamehogs and cottonball barons. That's the great empire they boast about
+of drudges and whipped serfs.
+
+--On which the sun never rises, says Joe.
+
+--And the tragedy of it is, says the citizen, they believe it. The
+unfortunate yahoos believe it.
+
+They believe in rod, the scourger almighty, creator of hell upon earth,
+and in Jacky Tar, the son of a gun, who was conceived of unholy boast,
+born of the fighting navy, suffered under rump and dozen, was scarified,
+flayed and curried, yelled like bloody hell, the third day he arose
+again from the bed, steered into haven, sitteth on his beamend till
+further orders whence he shall come to drudge for a living and be paid.
+
+--But, says Bloom, isn't discipline the same everywhere. I mean wouldn't
+it be the same here if you put force against force?
+
+Didn't I tell you? As true as I'm drinking this porter if he was at his
+last gasp he'd try to downface you that dying was living.
+
+--We'll put force against force, says the citizen. We have our greater
+Ireland beyond the sea. They were driven out of house and home in the
+black 47. Their mudcabins and their shielings by the roadside were laid
+low by the batteringram and the _Times_ rubbed its hands and told the
+whitelivered Saxons there would soon be as few Irish in Ireland as
+redskins in America. Even the Grand Turk sent us his piastres. But the
+Sassenach tried to starve the nation at home while the land was full
+of crops that the British hyenas bought and sold in Rio de Janeiro. Ay,
+they drove out the peasants in hordes. Twenty thousand of them died in
+the coffinships. But those that came to the land of the free remember
+the land of bondage. And they will come again and with a vengeance, no
+cravens, the sons of Granuaile, the champions of Kathleen ni Houlihan.
+
+--Perfectly true, says Bloom. But my point was...
+
+--We are a long time waiting for that day, citizen, says Ned. Since the
+poor old woman told us that the French were on the sea and landed at
+Killala.
+
+--Ay, says John Wyse. We fought for the royal Stuarts that reneged us
+against the Williamites and they betrayed us. Remember Limerick and the
+broken treatystone. We gave our best blood to France and Spain, the
+wild geese. Fontenoy, eh? And Sarsfield and O'Donnell, duke of Tetuan
+in Spain, and Ulysses Browne of Camus that was fieldmarshal to Maria
+Teresa. But what did we ever get for it?
+
+--The French! says the citizen. Set of dancing masters! Do you know
+what it is? They were never worth a roasted fart to Ireland. Aren't they
+trying to make an _Entente cordiale_ now at Tay Pay's dinnerparty with
+perfidious Albion? Firebrands of Europe and they always were.
+
+--_Conspuez les Français_, says Lenehan, nobbling his beer.
+
+--And as for the Prooshians and the Hanoverians, says Joe, haven't we
+had enough of those sausageeating bastards on the throne from George the
+elector down to the German lad and the flatulent old bitch that's dead?
+
+Jesus, I had to laugh at the way he came out with that about the old one
+with the winkers on her, blind drunk in her royal palace every night of
+God, old Vic, with her jorum of mountain dew and her coachman carting
+her up body and bones to roll into bed and she pulling him by the
+whiskers and singing him old bits of songs about _Ehren on the Rhine_
+and come where the boose is cheaper.
+
+--Well, says J. J. We have Edward the peacemaker now.
+
+--Tell that to a fool, says the citizen. There's a bloody sight more pox
+than pax about that boyo. Edward Guelph-Wettin!
+
+--And what do you think, says Joe, of the holy boys, the priests
+and bishops of Ireland doing up his room in Maynooth in His Satanic
+Majesty's racing colours and sticking up pictures of all the horses his
+jockeys rode. The earl of Dublin, no less.
+
+--They ought to have stuck up all the women he rode himself, says little
+Alf.
+
+And says J. J.:
+
+--Considerations of space influenced their lordships' decision.
+
+--Will you try another, citizen? says Joe.
+
+--Yes, sir, says he. I will.
+
+--You? says Joe.
+
+--Beholden to you, Joe, says I. May your shadow never grow less.
+
+--Repeat that dose, says Joe.
+
+Bloom was talking and talking with John Wyse and he quite excited with
+his dunducketymudcoloured mug on him and his old plumeyes rolling about.
+
+--Persecution, says he, all the history of the world is full of it.
+Perpetuating national hatred among nations.
+
+--But do you know what a nation means? says John Wyse.
+
+--Yes, says Bloom.
+
+--What is it? says John Wyse.
+
+--A nation? says Bloom. A nation is the same people living in the same
+place.
+
+--By God, then, says Ned, laughing, if that's so I'm a nation for I'm
+living in the same place for the past five years.
+
+So of course everyone had the laugh at Bloom and says he, trying to muck
+out of it:
+
+--Or also living in different places.
+
+--That covers my case, says Joe.
+
+--What is your nation if I may ask? says the citizen.
+
+--Ireland, says Bloom. I was born here. Ireland.
+
+The citizen said nothing only cleared the spit out of his gullet and,
+gob, he spat a Red bank oyster out of him right in the corner.
+
+--After you with the push, Joe, says he, taking out his handkerchief to
+swab himself dry.
+
+--Here you are, citizen, says Joe. Take that in your right hand and
+repeat after me the following words.
+
+The muchtreasured and intricately embroidered ancient Irish facecloth
+attributed to Solomon of Droma and Manus Tomaltach og MacDonogh, authors
+of the Book of Ballymote, was then carefully produced and called forth
+prolonged admiration. No need to dwell on the legendary beauty of the
+cornerpieces, the acme of art, wherein one can distinctly discern each
+of the four evangelists in turn presenting to each of the four masters
+his evangelical symbol, a bogoak sceptre, a North American puma (a far
+nobler king of beasts than the British article, be it said in passing),
+a Kerry calf and a golden eagle from Carrantuohill. The scenes depicted
+on the emunctory field, showing our ancient duns and raths and cromlechs
+and grianauns and seats of learning and maledictive stones, are as
+wonderfully beautiful and the pigments as delicate as when the Sligo
+illuminators gave free rein to their artistic fantasy long long ago in
+the time of the Barmecides. Glendalough, the lovely lakes of Killarney,
+the ruins of Clonmacnois, Cong Abbey, Glen Inagh and the Twelve Pins,
+Ireland's Eye, the Green Hills of Tallaght, Croagh Patrick, the brewery
+of Messrs Arthur Guinness, Son and Company (Limited), Lough Neagh's
+banks, the vale of Ovoca, Isolde's tower, the Mapas obelisk, Sir Patrick
+Dun's hospital, Cape Clear, the glen of Aherlow, Lynch's castle, the
+Scotch house, Rathdown Union Workhouse at Loughlinstown, Tullamore jail,
+Castleconnel rapids, Kilballymacshonakill, the cross at Monasterboice,
+Jury's Hotel, S. Patrick's Purgatory, the Salmon Leap, Maynooth college
+refectory, Curley's hole, the three birthplaces of the first duke of
+Wellington, the rock of Cashel, the bog of Allen, the Henry Street
+Warehouse, Fingal's Cave--all these moving scenes are still there for us
+today rendered more beautiful still by the waters of sorrow which have
+passed over them and by the rich incrustations of time.
+
+--Show us over the drink, says I. Which is which?
+
+--That's mine, says Joe, as the devil said to the dead policeman.
+
+--And I belong to a race too, says Bloom, that is hated and persecuted.
+Also now. This very moment. This very instant.
+
+Gob, he near burnt his fingers with the butt of his old cigar.
+
+--Robbed, says he. Plundered. Insulted. Persecuted. Taking what belongs
+to us by right. At this very moment, says he, putting up his fist, sold
+by auction in Morocco like slaves or cattle.
+
+--Are you talking about the new Jerusalem? says the citizen.
+
+--I'm talking about injustice, says Bloom.
+
+--Right, says John Wyse. Stand up to it then with force like men.
+
+That's an almanac picture for you. Mark for a softnosed bullet. Old
+lardyface standing up to the business end of a gun. Gob, he'd adorn a
+sweepingbrush, so he would, if he only had a nurse's apron on him. And
+then he collapses all of a sudden, twisting around all the opposite, as
+limp as a wet rag.
+
+--But it's no use, says he. Force, hatred, history, all that. That's not
+life for men and women, insult and hatred. And everybody knows that it's
+the very opposite of that that is really life.
+
+--What? says Alf.
+
+--Love, says Bloom. I mean the opposite of hatred. I must go now, says
+he to John Wyse. Just round to the court a moment to see if Martin is
+there. If he comes just say I'll be back in a second. Just a moment.
+
+Who's hindering you? And off he pops like greased lightning.
+
+--A new apostle to the gentiles, says the citizen. Universal love.
+
+--Well, says John Wyse. Isn't that what we're told. Love your neighbour.
+
+--That chap? says the citizen. Beggar my neighbour is his motto. Love,
+moya! He's a nice pattern of a Romeo and Juliet.
+
+Love loves to love love. Nurse loves the new chemist. Constable 14A
+loves Mary Kelly. Gerty MacDowell loves the boy that has the bicycle. M.
+B. loves a fair gentleman. Li Chi Han lovey up kissy Cha Pu Chow. Jumbo,
+the elephant, loves Alice, the elephant. Old Mr Verschoyle with the ear
+trumpet loves old Mrs Verschoyle with the turnedin eye. The man in the
+brown macintosh loves a lady who is dead. His Majesty the King loves Her
+Majesty the Queen. Mrs Norman W. Tupper loves officer Taylor. You love
+a certain person. And this person loves that other person because
+everybody loves somebody but God loves everybody.
+
+--Well, Joe, says I, your very good health and song. More power,
+citizen.
+
+--Hurrah, there, says Joe.
+
+--The blessing of God and Mary and Patrick on you, says the citizen.
+
+And he ups with his pint to wet his whistle.
+
+--We know those canters, says he, preaching and picking your pocket.
+What about sanctimonious Cromwell and his ironsides that put the women
+and children of Drogheda to the sword with the bible text _God is love_
+pasted round the mouth of his cannon? The bible! Did you read that skit
+in the _United Irishman_ today about that Zulu chief that's visiting
+England?
+
+--What's that? says Joe.
+
+So the citizen takes up one of his paraphernalia papers and he starts
+reading out:
+
+--A delegation of the chief cotton magnates of Manchester was presented
+yesterday to His Majesty the Alaki of Abeakuta by Gold Stick in Waiting,
+Lord Walkup of Walkup on Eggs, to tender to His Majesty the heartfelt
+thanks of British traders for the facilities afforded them in his
+dominions. The delegation partook of luncheon at the conclusion of which
+the dusky potentate, in the course of a happy speech, freely translated
+by the British chaplain, the reverend Ananias Praisegod Barebones,
+tendered his best thanks to Massa Walkup and emphasised the cordial
+relations existing between Abeakuta and the British empire, stating that
+he treasured as one of his dearest possessions an illuminated bible,
+the volume of the word of God and the secret of England's greatness,
+graciously presented to him by the white chief woman, the great squaw
+Victoria, with a personal dedication from the august hand of the Royal
+Donor. The Alaki then drank a lovingcup of firstshot usquebaugh to the
+toast _Black and White_ from the skull of his immediate predecessor in
+the dynasty Kakachakachak, surnamed Forty Warts, after which he visited
+the chief factory of Cottonopolis and signed his mark in the visitors'
+book, subsequently executing a charming old Abeakutic wardance, in the
+course of which he swallowed several knives and forks, amid hilarious
+applause from the girl hands.
+
+--Widow woman, says Ned. I wouldn't doubt her. Wonder did he put that
+bible to the same use as I would.
+
+--Same only more so, says Lenehan. And thereafter in that fruitful land
+the broadleaved mango flourished exceedingly.
+
+--Is that by Griffith? says John Wyse.
+
+--No, says the citizen. It's not signed Shanganagh. It's only
+initialled: P.
+
+--And a very good initial too, says Joe.
+
+--That's how it's worked, says the citizen. Trade follows the flag.
+
+--Well, says J. J., if they're any worse than those Belgians in the
+Congo Free State they must be bad. Did you read that report by a man
+what's this his name is?
+
+--Casement, says the citizen. He's an Irishman.
+
+--Yes, that's the man, says J. J. Raping the women and girls and
+flogging the natives on the belly to squeeze all the red rubber they can
+out of them.
+
+--I know where he's gone, says Lenehan, cracking his fingers.
+
+--Who? says I.
+
+--Bloom, says he. The courthouse is a blind. He had a few bob on
+_Throwaway_ and he's gone to gather in the shekels.
+
+--Is it that whiteeyed kaffir? says the citizen, that never backed a
+horse in anger in his life?
+
+--That's where he's gone, says Lenehan. I met Bantam Lyons going to back
+that horse only I put him off it and he told me Bloom gave him the tip.
+Bet you what you like he has a hundred shillings to five on. He's the
+only man in Dublin has it. A dark horse.
+
+--He's a bloody dark horse himself, says Joe.
+
+--Mind, Joe, says I. Show us the entrance out.
+
+--There you are, says Terry.
+
+Goodbye Ireland I'm going to Gort. So I just went round the back of
+the yard to pumpship and begob (hundred shillings to five) while I was
+letting off my _(Throwaway_ twenty to) letting off my load gob says I
+to myself I knew he was uneasy in his (two pints off of Joe and one in
+Slattery's off) in his mind to get off the mark to (hundred shillings
+is five quid) and when they were in the (dark horse) pisser Burke was
+telling me card party and letting on the child was sick (gob, must have
+done about a gallon) flabbyarse of a wife speaking down the tube _she's
+better_ or _she's_ (ow!) all a plan so he could vamoose with the pool if
+he won or (Jesus, full up I was) trading without a licence (ow!) Ireland
+my nation says he (hoik! phthook!) never be up to those bloody (there's
+the last of it) Jerusalem (ah!) cuckoos.
+
+So anyhow when I got back they were at it dingdong, John Wyse saying it
+was Bloom gave the ideas for Sinn Fein to Griffith to put in his paper
+all kinds of jerrymandering, packed juries and swindling the taxes off
+of the government and appointing consuls all over the world to walk
+about selling Irish industries. Robbing Peter to pay Paul. Gob, that
+puts the bloody kybosh on it if old sloppy eyes is mucking up the show.
+Give us a bloody chance. God save Ireland from the likes of that bloody
+mouseabout. Mr Bloom with his argol bargol. And his old fellow before
+him perpetrating frauds, old Methusalem Bloom, the robbing bagman, that
+poisoned himself with the prussic acid after he swamping the country
+with his baubles and his penny diamonds. Loans by post on easy terms.
+Any amount of money advanced on note of hand. Distance no object. No
+security. Gob, he's like Lanty MacHale's goat that'd go a piece of the
+road with every one.
+
+--Well, it's a fact, says John Wyse. And there's the man now that'll
+tell you all about it, Martin Cunningham.
+
+Sure enough the castle car drove up with Martin on it and Jack Power
+with him and a fellow named Crofter or Crofton, pensioner out of
+the collector general's, an orangeman Blackburn does have on the
+registration and he drawing his pay or Crawford gallivanting around the
+country at the king's expense.
+
+Our travellers reached the rustic hostelry and alighted from their
+palfreys.
+
+--Ho, varlet! cried he, who by his mien seemed the leader of the party.
+Saucy knave! To us!
+
+So saying he knocked loudly with his swordhilt upon the open lattice.
+
+Mine host came forth at the summons, girding him with his tabard.
+
+--Give you good den, my masters, said he with an obsequious bow.
+
+--Bestir thyself, sirrah! cried he who had knocked. Look to our steeds.
+And for ourselves give us of your best for ifaith we need it.
+
+--Lackaday, good masters, said the host, my poor house has but a bare
+larder. I know not what to offer your lordships.
+
+--How now, fellow? cried the second of the party, a man of pleasant
+countenance, So servest thou the king's messengers, master Taptun?
+
+An instantaneous change overspread the landlord's visage.
+
+--Cry you mercy, gentlemen, he said humbly. An you be the king's
+messengers (God shield His Majesty!) you shall not want for aught. The
+king's friends (God bless His Majesty!) shall not go afasting in my
+house I warrant me.
+
+--Then about! cried the traveller who had not spoken, a lusty
+trencherman by his aspect. Hast aught to give us?
+
+Mine host bowed again as he made answer:
+
+--What say you, good masters, to a squab pigeon pasty, some collops of
+venison, a saddle of veal, widgeon with crisp hog's bacon, a boar's head
+with pistachios, a bason of jolly custard, a medlar tansy and a flagon
+of old Rhenish?
+
+--Gadzooks! cried the last speaker. That likes me well. Pistachios!
+
+--Aha! cried he of the pleasant countenance. A poor house and a bare
+larder, quotha! 'Tis a merry rogue.
+
+So in comes Martin asking where was Bloom.
+
+--Where is he? says Lenehan. Defrauding widows and orphans.
+
+--Isn't that a fact, says John Wyse, what I was telling the citizen
+about Bloom and the Sinn Fein?
+
+--That's so, says Martin. Or so they allege.
+
+--Who made those allegations? says Alf.
+
+--I, says Joe. I'm the alligator.
+
+--And after all, says John Wyse, why can't a jew love his country like
+the next fellow?
+
+--Why not? says J. J., when he's quite sure which country it is.
+
+--Is he a jew or a gentile or a holy Roman or a swaddler or what the
+hell is he? says Ned. Or who is he? No offence, Crofton.
+
+--Who is Junius? says J. J.
+
+--We don't want him, says Crofter the Orangeman or presbyterian.
+
+--He's a perverted jew, says Martin, from a place in Hungary and it was
+he drew up all the plans according to the Hungarian system. We know that
+in the castle.
+
+--Isn't he a cousin of Bloom the dentist? says Jack Power.
+
+--Not at all, says Martin. Only namesakes. His name was Virag, the
+father's name that poisoned himself. He changed it by deedpoll, the
+father did.
+
+--That's the new Messiah for Ireland! says the citizen. Island of saints
+and sages!
+
+--Well, they're still waiting for their redeemer, says Martin. For that
+matter so are we.
+
+--Yes, says J. J., and every male that's born they think it may be their
+Messiah. And every jew is in a tall state of excitement, I believe, till
+he knows if he's a father or a mother.
+
+--Expecting every moment will be his next, says Lenehan.
+
+--O, by God, says Ned, you should have seen Bloom before that son of his
+that died was born. I met him one day in the south city markets buying a
+tin of Neave's food six weeks before the wife was delivered.
+
+--_En ventre sa mère_, says J. J.
+
+--Do you call that a man? says the citizen.
+
+--I wonder did he ever put it out of sight, says Joe.
+
+--Well, there were two children born anyhow, says Jack Power.
+
+--And who does he suspect? says the citizen.
+
+Gob, there's many a true word spoken in jest. One of those mixed
+middlings he is. Lying up in the hotel Pisser was telling me once a
+month with headache like a totty with her courses. Do you know what I'm
+telling you? It'd be an act of God to take a hold of a fellow the like
+of that and throw him in the bloody sea. Justifiable homicide, so it
+would. Then sloping off with his five quid without putting up a pint of
+stuff like a man. Give us your blessing. Not as much as would blind your
+eye.
+
+--Charity to the neighbour, says Martin. But where is he? We can't wait.
+
+--A wolf in sheep's clothing, says the citizen. That's what he is. Virag
+from Hungary! Ahasuerus I call him. Cursed by God.
+
+--Have you time for a brief libation, Martin? says Ned.
+
+--Only one, says Martin. We must be quick. J. J. and S.
+
+--You, Jack? Crofton? Three half ones, Terry.
+
+--Saint Patrick would want to land again at Ballykinlar and convert us,
+says the citizen, after allowing things like that to contaminate our
+shores.
+
+--Well, says Martin, rapping for his glass. God bless all here is my
+prayer.
+
+--Amen, says the citizen.
+
+--And I'm sure He will, says Joe.
+
+And at the sound of the sacring bell, headed by a crucifer with
+acolytes, thurifers, boatbearers, readers, ostiarii, deacons and
+subdeacons, the blessed company drew nigh of mitred abbots and priors
+and guardians and monks and friars: the monks of Benedict of Spoleto,
+Carthusians and Camaldolesi, Cistercians and Olivetans, Oratorians
+and Vallombrosans, and the friars of Augustine, Brigittines,
+Premonstratensians, Servi, Trinitarians, and the children of Peter
+Nolasco: and therewith from Carmel mount the children of Elijah prophet
+led by Albert bishop and by Teresa of Avila, calced and other: and
+friars, brown and grey, sons of poor Francis, capuchins, cordeliers,
+minimes and observants and the daughters of Clara: and the sons of
+Dominic, the friars preachers, and the sons of Vincent: and the monks
+of S. Wolstan: and Ignatius his children: and the confraternity of the
+christian brothers led by the reverend brother Edmund Ignatius Rice. And
+after came all saints and martyrs, virgins and confessors: S. Cyr and
+S. Isidore Arator and S. James the Less and S. Phocas of Sinope and S.
+Julian Hospitator and S. Felix de Cantalice and S. Simon Stylites and
+S. Stephen Protomartyr and S. John of God and S. Ferreol and S. Leugarde
+and S. Theodotus and S. Vulmar and S. Richard and S. Vincent de Paul and
+S. Martin of Todi and S. Martin of Tours and S. Alfred and S. Joseph and
+S. Denis and S. Cornelius and S. Leopold and S. Bernard and S. Terence
+and S. Edward and S. Owen Caniculus and S. Anonymous and S. Eponymous
+and S. Pseudonymous and S. Homonymous and S. Paronymous and S.
+Synonymous and S. Laurence O'Toole and S. James of Dingle and
+Compostella and S. Columcille and S. Columba and S. Celestine and S.
+Colman and S. Kevin and S. Brendan and S. Frigidian and S. Senan and S.
+Fachtna and S. Columbanus and S. Gall and S. Fursey and S. Fintan and S.
+Fiacre and S. John Nepomuc and S. Thomas Aquinas and S. Ives of Brittany
+and S. Michan and S. Herman-Joseph and the three patrons of holy youth
+S. Aloysius Gonzaga and S. Stanislaus Kostka and S. John Berchmans
+and the saints Gervasius, Servasius and Bonifacius and S. Bride and S.
+Kieran and S. Canice of Kilkenny and S. Jarlath of Tuam and S. Finbarr
+and S. Pappin of Ballymun and Brother Aloysius Pacificus and Brother
+Louis Bellicosus and the saints Rose of Lima and of Viterbo and S.
+Martha of Bethany and S. Mary of Egypt and S. Lucy and S. Brigid and
+S. Attracta and S. Dympna and S. Ita and S. Marion Calpensis and
+the Blessed Sister Teresa of the Child Jesus and S. Barbara and S.
+Scholastica and S. Ursula with eleven thousand virgins. And all came
+with nimbi and aureoles and gloriae, bearing palms and harps and swords
+and olive crowns, in robes whereon were woven the blessed symbols of
+their efficacies, inkhorns, arrows, loaves, cruses, fetters, axes,
+trees, bridges, babes in a bathtub, shells, wallets, shears, keys,
+dragons, lilies, buckshot, beards, hogs, lamps, bellows, beehives,
+soupladles, stars, snakes, anvils, boxes of vaseline, bells, crutches,
+forceps, stags' horns, watertight boots, hawks, millstones, eyes on a
+dish, wax candles, aspergills, unicorns. And as they wended their way by
+Nelson's Pillar, Henry street, Mary street, Capel street, Little Britain
+street chanting the introit in _Epiphania Domini_ which beginneth
+_Surge, illuminare_ and thereafter most sweetly the gradual _Omnes_
+which saith _de Saba venient_ they did divers wonders such as casting
+out devils, raising the dead to life, multiplying fishes, healing the
+halt and the blind, discovering various articles which had been mislaid,
+interpreting and fulfilling the scriptures, blessing and prophesying.
+And last, beneath a canopy of cloth of gold came the reverend Father
+O'Flynn attended by Malachi and Patrick. And when the good fathers
+had reached the appointed place, the house of Bernard Kiernan and Co,
+limited, 8, 9 and 10 little Britain street, wholesale grocers, wine
+and brandy shippers, licensed fo the sale of beer, wine and spirits for
+consumption on the premises, the celebrant blessed the house and censed
+the mullioned windows and the groynes and the vaults and the arrises and
+the capitals and the pediments and the cornices and the engrailed arches
+and the spires and the cupolas and sprinkled the lintels thereof with
+blessed water and prayed that God might bless that house as he had
+blessed the house of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and make the angels of
+His light to inhabit therein. And entering he blessed the viands and the
+beverages and the company of all the blessed answered his prayers.
+
+--_Adiutorium nostrum in nomine Domini._
+
+--_Qui fecit coelum et terram._
+
+--_Dominus vobiscum._
+
+--_Et cum spiritu tuo._
+
+And he laid his hands upon that he blessed and gave thanks and he prayed
+and they all with him prayed:
+
+--_Deus, cuius verbo sanctificantur omnia, benedictionem tuam effunde
+super creaturas istas: et praesta ut quisquis eis secundum legem et
+voluntatem Tuam cum gratiarum actione usus fuerit per invocationem
+sanctissimi nominis Tui corporis sanitatem et animae tutelam Te auctore
+percipiat per Christum Dominum nostrum._
+
+--And so say all of us, says Jack.
+
+--Thousand a year, Lambert, says Crofton or Crawford.
+
+--Right, says Ned, taking up his John Jameson. And butter for fish.
+
+I was just looking around to see who the happy thought would strike when
+be damned but in he comes again letting on to be in a hell of a hurry.
+
+--I was just round at the courthouse, says he, looking for you. I hope
+I'm not...
+
+--No, says Martin, we're ready.
+
+Courthouse my eye and your pockets hanging down with gold and silver.
+Mean bloody scut. Stand us a drink itself. Devil a sweet fear! There's
+a jew for you! All for number one. Cute as a shithouse rat. Hundred to
+five.
+
+--Don't tell anyone, says the citizen,
+
+--Beg your pardon, says he.
+
+--Come on boys, says Martin, seeing it was looking blue. Come along now.
+
+--Don't tell anyone, says the citizen, letting a bawl out of him. It's a
+secret.
+
+And the bloody dog woke up and let a growl.
+
+--Bye bye all, says Martin.
+
+And he got them out as quick as he could, Jack Power and Crofton or
+whatever you call him and him in the middle of them letting on to be all
+at sea and up with them on the bloody jaunting car.
+
+---Off with you, says
+
+Martin to the jarvey.
+
+The milkwhite dolphin tossed his mane and, rising in the golden poop the
+helmsman spread the bellying sail upon the wind and stood off forward
+with all sail set, the spinnaker to larboard. A many comely nymphs drew
+nigh to starboard and to larboard and, clinging to the sides of
+the noble bark, they linked their shining forms as doth the cunning
+wheelwright when he fashions about the heart of his wheel the
+equidistant rays whereof each one is sister to another and he binds them
+all with an outer ring and giveth speed to the feet of men whenas they
+ride to a hosting or contend for the smile of ladies fair. Even so did
+they come and set them, those willing nymphs, the undying sisters. And
+they laughed, sporting in a circle of their foam: and the bark clave the
+waves.
+
+But begob I was just lowering the heel of the pint when I saw the
+citizen getting up to waddle to the door, puffing and blowing with the
+dropsy, and he cursing the curse of Cromwell on him, bell, book and
+candle in Irish, spitting and spatting out of him and Joe and little Alf
+round him like a leprechaun trying to peacify him.
+
+--Let me alone, says he.
+
+And begob he got as far as the door and they holding him and he bawls
+out of him:
+
+--Three cheers for Israel!
+
+Arrah, sit down on the parliamentary side of your arse for Christ' sake
+and don't be making a public exhibition of yourself. Jesus, there's
+always some bloody clown or other kicking up a bloody murder about
+bloody nothing. Gob, it'd turn the porter sour in your guts, so it
+would.
+
+And all the ragamuffins and sluts of the nation round the door and
+Martin telling the jarvey to drive ahead and the citizen bawling and Alf
+and Joe at him to whisht and he on his high horse about the jews and
+the loafers calling for a speech and Jack Power trying to get him to sit
+down on the car and hold his bloody jaw and a loafer with a patch over
+his eye starts singing _If the man in the moon was a jew, jew, jew_ and
+a slut shouts out of her:
+
+--Eh, mister! Your fly is open, mister!
+
+And says he:
+
+--Mendelssohn was a jew and Karl Marx and Mercadante and Spinoza. And
+the Saviour was a jew and his father was a jew. Your God.
+
+--He had no father, says Martin. That'll do now. Drive ahead.
+
+--Whose God? says the citizen.
+
+--Well, his uncle was a jew, says he. Your God was a jew. Christ was a
+jew like me.
+
+Gob, the citizen made a plunge back into the shop.
+
+--By Jesus, says he, I'll brain that bloody jewman for using the holy
+name.
+
+By Jesus, I'll crucify him so I will. Give us that biscuitbox here.
+
+--Stop! Stop! says Joe.
+
+A large and appreciative gathering of friends and acquaintances from
+the metropolis and greater Dublin assembled in their thousands to bid
+farewell to Nagyasagos uram Lipoti Virag, late of Messrs Alexander
+Thom's, printers to His Majesty, on the occasion of his departure
+for the distant clime of Szazharminczbrojugulyas-Dugulas (Meadow of
+Murmuring Waters). The ceremony which went off with great _éclat_ was
+characterised by the most affecting cordiality. An illuminated scroll
+of ancient Irish vellum, the work of Irish artists, was presented to
+the distinguished phenomenologist on behalf of a large section of the
+community and was accompanied by the gift of a silver casket, tastefully
+executed in the style of ancient Celtic ornament, a work which reflects
+every credit on the makers, Messrs Jacob _agus_ Jacob. The departing
+guest was the recipient of a hearty ovation, many of those who were
+present being visibly moved when the select orchestra of Irish pipes
+struck up the wellknown strains of _Come back to Erin_, followed
+immediately by _Rakoczsy's March_. Tarbarrels and bonfires were lighted
+along the coastline of the four seas on the summits of the Hill of
+Howth, Three Rock Mountain, Sugarloaf, Bray Head, the mountains of
+Mourne, the Galtees, the Ox and Donegal and Sperrin peaks, the Nagles
+and the Bograghs, the Connemara hills, the reeks of M Gillicuddy, Slieve
+Aughty, Slieve Bernagh and Slieve Bloom. Amid cheers that rent the
+welkin, responded to by answering cheers from a big muster of
+henchmen on the distant Cambrian and Caledonian hills, the mastodontic
+pleasureship slowly moved away saluted by a final floral tribute from
+the representatives of the fair sex who were present in large numbers
+while, as it proceeded down the river, escorted by a flotilla of barges,
+the flags of the Ballast office and Custom House were dipped in salute
+as were also those of the electrical power station at the
+Pigeonhouse and the Poolbeg Light. _Visszontlátásra, kedves baráton!
+Visszontlátásra!_ Gone but not forgotten.
+
+Gob, the devil wouldn't stop him till he got hold of the bloody tin
+anyhow and out with him and little Alf hanging on to his elbow and he
+shouting like a stuck pig, as good as any bloody play in the Queen's
+royal theatre:
+
+--Where is he till I murder him?
+
+And Ned and J. J. paralysed with the laughing.
+
+--Bloody wars, says I, I'll be in for the last gospel.
+
+But as luck would have it the jarvey got the nag's head round the other
+way and off with him.
+
+--Hold on, citizen, says Joe. Stop!
+
+Begob he drew his hand and made a swipe and let fly. Mercy of God the
+sun was in his eyes or he'd have left him for dead. Gob, he near sent it
+into the county Longford. The bloody nag took fright and the old
+mongrel after the car like bloody hell and all the populace shouting and
+laughing and the old tinbox clattering along the street.
+
+The catastrophe was terrific and instantaneous in its effect. The
+observatory of Dunsink registered in all eleven shocks, all of the fifth
+grade of Mercalli's scale, and there is no record extant of a similar
+seismic disturbance in our island since the earthquake of 1534, the year
+of the rebellion of Silken Thomas. The epicentre appears to have been
+that part of the metropolis which constitutes the Inn's Quay ward and
+parish of Saint Michan covering a surface of fortyone acres, two roods
+and one square pole or perch. All the lordly residences in the vicinity
+of the palace of justice were demolished and that noble edifice itself,
+in which at the time of the catastrophe important legal debates were in
+progress, is literally a mass of ruins beneath which it is to be
+feared all the occupants have been buried alive. From the reports of
+eyewitnesses it transpires that the seismic waves were accompanied by
+a violent atmospheric perturbation of cyclonic character. An article of
+headgear since ascertained to belong to the much respected clerk of the
+crown and peace Mr George Fottrell and a silk umbrella with gold handle
+with the engraved initials, crest, coat of arms and house number of
+the erudite and worshipful chairman of quarter sessions sir Frederick
+Falkiner, recorder of Dublin, have been discovered by search parties
+in remote parts of the island respectively, the former on the third
+basaltic ridge of the giant's causeway, the latter embedded to the
+extent of one foot three inches in the sandy beach of Holeopen bay near
+the old head of Kinsale. Other eyewitnesses depose that they observed
+an incandescent object of enormous proportions hurtling through the
+atmosphere at a terrifying velocity in a trajectory directed southwest
+by west. Messages of condolence and sympathy are being hourly received
+from all parts of the different continents and the sovereign pontiff has
+been graciously pleased to decree that a special _missa pro defunctis_
+shall be celebrated simultaneously by the ordinaries of each and every
+cathedral church of all the episcopal dioceses subject to the spiritual
+authority of the Holy See in suffrage of the souls of those faithful
+departed who have been so unexpectedly called away from our midst.
+The work of salvage, removal of _débris,_ human remains etc has been
+entrusted to Messrs Michael Meade and Son, 159 Great Brunswick street,
+and Messrs T. and C. Martin, 77, 78, 79 and 80 North Wall, assisted by
+the men and officers of the Duke of Cornwall's light infantry under the
+general supervision of H. R. H., rear admiral, the right honourable sir
+Hercules Hannibal Habeas Corpus Anderson, K. G., K. P., K. T., P. C., K.
+C. B., M. P, J. P., M. B., D. S. O., S. O. D., M. F. H., M. R. I. A., B.
+L., Mus. Doc., P. L. G., F. T. C. D., F. R. U. I., F. R. C. P. I. and F.
+R. C. S. I.
+
+You never saw the like of it in all your born puff. Gob, if he got that
+lottery ticket on the side of his poll he'd remember the gold cup, he
+would so, but begob the citizen would have been lagged for assault and
+battery and Joe for aiding and abetting. The jarvey saved his life by
+furious driving as sure as God made Moses. What? O, Jesus, he did. And
+he let a volley of oaths after him.
+
+--Did I kill him, says he, or what?
+
+And he shouting to the bloody dog:
+
+--After him, Garry! After him, boy!
+
+And the last we saw was the bloody car rounding the corner and old
+sheepsface on it gesticulating and the bloody mongrel after it with his
+lugs back for all he was bloody well worth to tear him limb from limb.
+Hundred to five! Jesus, he took the value of it out of him, I promise
+you.
+
+When, lo, there came about them all a great brightness and they beheld
+the chariot wherein He stood ascend to heaven. And they beheld Him in
+the chariot, clothed upon in the glory of the brightness, having raiment
+as of the sun, fair as the moon and terrible that for awe they durst not
+look upon Him. And there came a voice out of heaven, calling: _Elijah!
+Elijah!_ And He answered with a main cry: _Abba! Adonai!_ And they
+beheld Him even Him, ben Bloom Elijah, amid clouds of angels ascend
+to the glory of the brightness at an angle of fortyfive degrees over
+Donohoe's in Little Green street like a shot off a shovel.
+
+
+
+The summer evening had begun to fold the world in its mysterious
+embrace. Far away in the west the sun was setting and the last glow of
+all too fleeting day lingered lovingly on sea and strand, on the proud
+promontory of dear old Howth guarding as ever the waters of the bay, on
+the weedgrown rocks along Sandymount shore and, last but not least, on
+the quiet church whence there streamed forth at times upon the stillness
+the voice of prayer to her who is in her pure radiance a beacon ever to
+the stormtossed heart of man, Mary, star of the sea.
+
+The three girl friends were seated on the rocks, enjoying the evening
+scene and the air which was fresh but not too chilly. Many a time and
+oft were they wont to come there to that favourite nook to have a cosy
+chat beside the sparkling waves and discuss matters feminine, Cissy
+Caffrey and Edy Boardman with the baby in the pushcar and Tommy and
+Jacky Caffrey, two little curlyheaded boys, dressed in sailor suits with
+caps to match and the name H.M.S. Belleisle printed on both. For Tommy
+and Jacky Caffrey were twins, scarce four years old and very noisy and
+spoiled twins sometimes but for all that darling little fellows with
+bright merry faces and endearing ways about them. They were dabbling in
+the sand with their spades and buckets, building castles as children do,
+or playing with their big coloured ball, happy as the day was long. And
+Edy Boardman was rocking the chubby baby to and fro in the pushcar while
+that young gentleman fairly chuckled with delight. He was but eleven
+months and nine days old and, though still a tiny toddler, was just
+beginning to lisp his first babyish words. Cissy Caffrey bent over to
+him to tease his fat little plucks and the dainty dimple in his chin.
+
+--Now, baby, Cissy Caffrey said. Say out big, big. I want a drink of
+water.
+
+And baby prattled after her:
+
+--A jink a jink a jawbo.
+
+Cissy Caffrey cuddled the wee chap for she was awfully fond of children,
+so patient with little sufferers and Tommy Caffrey could never be got to
+take his castor oil unless it was Cissy Caffrey that held his nose and
+promised him the scatty heel of the loaf or brown bread with golden
+syrup on. What a persuasive power that girl had! But to be sure baby
+Boardman was as good as gold, a perfect little dote in his new fancy
+bib. None of your spoilt beauties, Flora MacFlimsy sort, was Cissy
+Caffrey. A truerhearted lass never drew the breath of life, always with
+a laugh in her gipsylike eyes and a frolicsome word on her cherryripe
+red lips, a girl lovable in the extreme. And Edy Boardman laughed too at
+the quaint language of little brother.
+
+But just then there was a slight altercation between Master Tommy and
+Master Jacky. Boys will be boys and our two twins were no exception
+to this golden rule. The apple of discord was a certain castle of sand
+which Master Jacky had built and Master Tommy would have it right go
+wrong that it was to be architecturally improved by a frontdoor like the
+Martello tower had. But if Master Tommy was headstrong Master Jacky was
+selfwilled too and, true to the maxim that every little Irishman's house
+is his castle, he fell upon his hated rival and to such purpose that the
+wouldbe assailant came to grief and (alas to relate!) the coveted castle
+too. Needless to say the cries of discomfited Master Tommy drew the
+attention of the girl friends.
+
+--Come here, Tommy, his sister called imperatively. At once! And you,
+Jacky, for shame to throw poor Tommy in the dirty sand. Wait till I
+catch you for that.
+
+His eyes misty with unshed tears Master Tommy came at her call for their
+big sister's word was law with the twins. And in a sad plight he was
+too after his misadventure. His little man-o'-war top and unmentionables
+were full of sand but Cissy was a past mistress in the art of smoothing
+over life's tiny troubles and very quickly not one speck of sand was to
+be seen on his smart little suit. Still the blue eyes were glistening
+with hot tears that would well up so she kissed away the hurtness and
+shook her hand at Master Jacky the culprit and said if she was near him
+she wouldn't be far from him, her eyes dancing in admonition.
+
+--Nasty bold Jacky! she cried.
+
+She put an arm round the little mariner and coaxed winningly:
+
+--What's your name? Butter and cream?
+
+--Tell us who is your sweetheart, spoke Edy Boardman. Is Cissy your
+sweetheart?
+
+--Nao, tearful Tommy said.
+
+--Is Edy Boardman your sweetheart? Cissy queried.
+
+--Nao, Tommy said.
+
+--I know, Edy Boardman said none too amiably with an arch glance from
+her shortsighted eyes. I know who is Tommy's sweetheart. Gerty is
+Tommy's sweetheart.
+
+--Nao, Tommy said on the verge of tears.
+
+Cissy's quick motherwit guessed what was amiss and she whispered to
+Edy Boardman to take him there behind the pushcar where the gentleman
+couldn't see and to mind he didn't wet his new tan shoes.
+
+But who was Gerty?
+
+Gerty MacDowell who was seated near her companions, lost in thought,
+gazing far away into the distance was, in very truth, as fair a specimen
+of winsome Irish girlhood as one could wish to see. She was pronounced
+beautiful by all who knew her though, as folks often said, she was
+more a Giltrap than a MacDowell. Her figure was slight and graceful,
+inclining even to fragility but those iron jelloids she had been taking
+of late had done her a world of good much better than the Widow Welch's
+female pills and she was much better of those discharges she used to
+get and that tired feeling. The waxen pallor of her face was almost
+spiritual in its ivorylike purity though her rosebud mouth was a genuine
+Cupid's bow, Greekly perfect. Her hands were of finely veined alabaster
+with tapering fingers and as white as lemonjuice and queen of ointments
+could make them though it was not true that she used to wear kid gloves
+in bed or take a milk footbath either. Bertha Supple told that once to
+Edy Boardman, a deliberate lie, when she was black out at daggers drawn
+with Gerty (the girl chums had of course their little tiffs from time to
+time like the rest of mortals) and she told her not to let on whatever
+she did that it was her that told her or she'd never speak to her
+again. No. Honour where honour is due. There was an innate refinement,
+a languid queenly _hauteur_ about Gerty which was unmistakably evidenced
+in her delicate hands and higharched instep. Had kind fate but willed
+her to be born a gentlewoman of high degree in her own right and had
+she only received the benefit of a good education Gerty MacDowell might
+easily have held her own beside any lady in the land and have seen
+herself exquisitely gowned with jewels on her brow and patrician suitors
+at her feet vying with one another to pay their devoirs to her.
+Mayhap it was this, the love that might have been, that lent to her
+softlyfeatured face at whiles a look, tense with suppressed meaning,
+that imparted a strange yearning tendency to the beautiful eyes, a charm
+few could resist. Why have women such eyes of witchery? Gerty's were of
+the bluest Irish blue, set off by lustrous lashes and dark expressive
+brows. Time was when those brows were not so silkily seductive. It
+was Madame Vera Verity, directress of the Woman Beautiful page of the
+Princess Novelette, who had first advised her to try eyebrowleine which
+gave that haunting expression to the eyes, so becoming in leaders
+of fashion, and she had never regretted it. Then there was blushing
+scientifically cured and how to be tall increase your height and you
+have a beautiful face but your nose? That would suit Mrs Dignam because
+she had a button one. But Gerty's crowning glory was her wealth of
+wonderful hair. It was dark brown with a natural wave in it. She had cut
+it that very morning on account of the new moon and it nestled about
+her pretty head in a profusion of luxuriant clusters and pared her nails
+too, Thursday for wealth. And just now at Edy's words as a telltale
+flush, delicate as the faintest rosebloom, crept into her cheeks she
+looked so lovely in her sweet girlish shyness that of a surety God's
+fair land of Ireland did not hold her equal.
+
+For an instant she was silent with rather sad downcast eyes. She
+was about to retort but something checked the words on her tongue.
+Inclination prompted her to speak out: dignity told her to be silent.
+The pretty lips pouted awhile but then she glanced up and broke out into
+a joyous little laugh which had in it all the freshness of a young May
+morning. She knew right well, no-one better, what made squinty Edy
+say that because of him cooling in his attentions when it was simply a
+lovers' quarrel. As per usual somebody's nose was out of joint about the
+boy that had the bicycle off the London bridge road always riding up
+and down in front of her window. Only now his father kept him in in the
+evenings studying hard to get an exhibition in the intermediate that was
+on and he was going to go to Trinity college to study for a doctor when
+he left the high school like his brother W. E. Wylie who was racing
+in the bicycle races in Trinity college university. Little recked he
+perhaps for what she felt, that dull aching void in her heart sometimes,
+piercing to the core. Yet he was young and perchance he might learn
+to love her in time. They were protestants in his family and of course
+Gerty knew Who came first and after Him the Blessed Virgin and then
+Saint Joseph. But he was undeniably handsome with an exquisite nose and
+he was what he looked, every inch a gentleman, the shape of his head too
+at the back without his cap on that she would know anywhere something
+off the common and the way he turned the bicycle at the lamp with his
+hands off the bars and also the nice perfume of those good cigarettes
+and besides they were both of a size too he and she and that was why Edy
+Boardman thought she was so frightfully clever because he didn't go and
+ride up and down in front of her bit of a garden.
+
+Gerty was dressed simply but with the instinctive taste of a votary of
+Dame Fashion for she felt that there was just a might that he might be
+out. A neat blouse of electric blue selftinted by dolly dyes (because it
+was expected in the _Lady's Pictorial_ that electric blue would be worn)
+with a smart vee opening down to the division and kerchief pocket (in
+which she always kept a piece of cottonwool scented with her
+favourite perfume because the handkerchief spoiled the sit) and a navy
+threequarter skirt cut to the stride showed off her slim graceful figure
+to perfection. She wore a coquettish little love of a hat of wideleaved
+nigger straw contrast trimmed with an underbrim of eggblue chenille and
+at the side a butterfly bow of silk to tone. All Tuesday week afternoon
+she was hunting to match that chenille but at last she found what she
+wanted at Clery's summer sales, the very it, slightly shopsoiled but you
+would never notice, seven fingers two and a penny. She did it up all by
+herself and what joy was hers when she tried it on then, smiling at the
+lovely reflection which the mirror gave back to her! And when she put
+it on the waterjug to keep the shape she knew that that would take the
+shine out of some people she knew. Her shoes were the newest thing in
+footwear (Edy Boardman prided herself that she was very _petite_ but she
+never had a foot like Gerty MacDowell, a five, and never would ash,
+oak or elm) with patent toecaps and just one smart buckle over
+her higharched instep. Her wellturned ankle displayed its perfect
+proportions beneath her skirt and just the proper amount and no more of
+her shapely limbs encased in finespun hose with highspliced heels and
+wide garter tops. As for undies they were Gerty's chief care and who
+that knows the fluttering hopes and fears of sweet seventeen (though
+Gerty would never see seventeen again) can find it in his heart to
+blame her? She had four dinky sets with awfully pretty stitchery,
+three garments and nighties extra, and each set slotted with different
+coloured ribbons, rosepink, pale blue, mauve and peagreen, and she aired
+them herself and blued them when they came home from the wash and ironed
+them and she had a brickbat to keep the iron on because she wouldn't
+trust those washerwomen as far as she'd see them scorching the things.
+She was wearing the blue for luck, hoping against hope, her own colour
+and lucky too for a bride to have a bit of blue somewhere on her because
+the green she wore that day week brought grief because his father
+brought him in to study for the intermediate exhibition and because
+she thought perhaps he might be out because when she was dressing that
+morning she nearly slipped up the old pair on her inside out and that
+was for luck and lovers' meeting if you put those things on inside
+out or if they got untied that he was thinking about you so long as it
+wasn't of a Friday.
+
+And yet and yet! That strained look on her face! A gnawing sorrow is
+there all the time. Her very soul is in her eyes and she would give
+worlds to be in the privacy of her own familiar chamber where,
+giving way to tears, she could have a good cry and relieve her pentup
+feelingsthough not too much because she knew how to cry nicely before
+the mirror. You are lovely, Gerty, it said. The paly light of evening
+falls upon a face infinitely sad and wistful. Gerty MacDowell yearns
+in vain. Yes, she had known from the very first that her daydream of a
+marriage has been arranged and the weddingbells ringing for Mrs Reggy
+Wylie T. C. D. (because the one who married the elder brother would be
+Mrs Wylie) and in the fashionable intelligence Mrs Gertrude Wylie was
+wearing a sumptuous confection of grey trimmed with expensive blue fox
+was not to be. He was too young to understand. He would not believe in
+love, a woman's birthright. The night of the party long ago in Stoer's
+(he was still in short trousers) when they were alone and he stole
+an arm round her waist she went white to the very lips. He called her
+little one in a strangely husky voice and snatched a half kiss (the
+first!) but it was only the end of her nose and then he hastened from
+the room with a remark about refreshments. Impetuous fellow! Strength of
+character had never been Reggy Wylie's strong point and he who would
+woo and win Gerty MacDowell must be a man among men. But waiting, always
+waiting to be asked and it was leap year too and would soon be over. No
+prince charming is her beau ideal to lay a rare and wondrous love at her
+feet but rather a manly man with a strong quiet face who had not found
+his ideal, perhaps his hair slightly flecked with grey, and who would
+understand, take her in his sheltering arms, strain her to him in all
+the strength of his deep passionate nature and comfort her with a long
+long kiss. It would be like heaven. For such a one she yearns this balmy
+summer eve. With all the heart of her she longs to be his only, his
+affianced bride for riches for poor, in sickness in health, till death
+us two part, from this to this day forward.
+
+And while Edy Boardman was with little Tommy behind the pushcar she was
+just thinking would the day ever come when she could call herself his
+little wife to be. Then they could talk about her till they went blue in
+the face, Bertha Supple too, and Edy, little spitfire, because she would
+be twentytwo in November. She would care for him with creature comforts
+too for Gerty was womanly wise and knew that a mere man liked that
+feeling of hominess. Her griddlecakes done to a goldenbrown hue and
+queen Ann's pudding of delightful creaminess had won golden opinions
+from all because she had a lucky hand also for lighting a fire, dredge
+in the fine selfraising flour and always stir in the same direction,
+then cream the milk and sugar and whisk well the white of eggs though
+she didn't like the eating part when there were any people that made her
+shy and often she wondered why you couldn't eat something poetical like
+violets or roses and they would have a beautifully appointed drawingroom
+with pictures and engravings and the photograph of grandpapa Giltrap's
+lovely dog Garryowen that almost talked it was so human and chintz
+covers for the chairs and that silver toastrack in Clery's summer
+jumble sales like they have in rich houses. He would be tall with
+broad shoulders (she had always admired tall men for a husband) with
+glistening white teeth under his carefully trimmed sweeping moustache
+and they would go on the continent for their honeymoon (three wonderful
+weeks!) and then, when they settled down in a nice snug and cosy little
+homely house, every morning they would both have brekky, simple but
+perfectly served, for their own two selves and before he went out to
+business he would give his dear little wifey a good hearty hug and gaze
+for a moment deep down into her eyes.
+
+Edy Boardman asked Tommy Caffrey was he done and he said yes so then she
+buttoned up his little knickerbockers for him and told him to run off
+and play with Jacky and to be good now and not to fight. But Tommy said
+he wanted the ball and Edy told him no that baby was playing with the
+ball and if he took it there'd be wigs on the green but Tommy said it
+was his ball and he wanted his ball and he pranced on the ground, if
+you please. The temper of him! O, he was a man already was little Tommy
+Caffrey since he was out of pinnies. Edy told him no, no and to be off
+now with him and she told Cissy Caffrey not to give in to him.
+
+--You're not my sister, naughty Tommy said. It's my ball.
+
+But Cissy Caffrey told baby Boardman to look up, look up high at her
+finger and she snatched the ball quickly and threw it along the sand and
+Tommy after it in full career, having won the day.
+
+--Anything for a quiet life, laughed Ciss.
+
+And she tickled tiny tot's two cheeks to make him forget and played
+here's the lord mayor, here's his two horses, here's his gingerbread
+carriage and here he walks in, chinchopper, chinchopper, chinchopper
+chin. But Edy got as cross as two sticks about him getting his own way
+like that from everyone always petting him.
+
+--I'd like to give him something, she said, so I would, where I won't
+say.
+
+--On the beeoteetom, laughed Cissy merrily.
+
+Gerty MacDowell bent down her head and crimsoned at the idea of Cissy
+saying an unladylike thing like that out loud she'd be ashamed of her
+life to say, flushing a deep rosy red, and Edy Boardman said she was
+sure the gentleman opposite heard what she said. But not a pin cared
+Ciss.
+
+--Let him! she said with a pert toss of her head and a piquant tilt of
+her nose. Give it to him too on the same place as quick as I'd look at
+him.
+
+Madcap Ciss with her golliwog curls. You had to laugh at her sometimes.
+For instance when she asked you would you have some more Chinese tea and
+jaspberry ram and when she drew the jugs too and the men's faces on her
+nails with red ink make you split your sides or when she wanted to go
+where you know she said she wanted to run and pay a visit to the Miss
+White. That was just like Cissycums. O, and will you ever forget her the
+evening she dressed up in her father's suit and hat and the burned cork
+moustache and walked down Tritonville road, smoking a cigarette. There
+was none to come up to her for fun. But she was sincerity itself, one of
+the bravest and truest hearts heaven ever made, not one of your twofaced
+things, too sweet to be wholesome.
+
+And then there came out upon the air the sound of voices and the pealing
+anthem of the organ. It was the men's temperance retreat conducted
+by the missioner, the reverend John Hughes S. J., rosary, sermon and
+benediction of the Most Blessed Sacrament. They were there gathered
+together without distinction of social class (and a most edifying
+spectacle it was to see) in that simple fane beside the waves, after the
+storms of this weary world, kneeling before the feet of the immaculate,
+reciting the litany of Our Lady of Loreto, beseeching her to intercede
+for them, the old familiar words, holy Mary, holy virgin of virgins. How
+sad to poor Gerty's ears! Had her father only avoided the clutches of
+the demon drink, by taking the pledge or those powders the drink habit
+cured in Pearson's Weekly, she might now be rolling in her carriage,
+second to none. Over and over had she told herself that as she mused by
+the dying embers in a brown study without the lamp because she hated two
+lights or oftentimes gazing out of the window dreamily by the hour at
+the rain falling on the rusty bucket, thinking. But that vile decoction
+which has ruined so many hearths and homes had cist its shadow over her
+childhood days. Nay, she had even witnessed in the home circle deeds of
+violence caused by intemperance and had seen her own father, a prey to
+the fumes of intoxication, forget himself completely for if there was
+one thing of all things that Gerty knew it was that the man who lifts
+his hand to a woman save in the way of kindness, deserves to be branded
+as the lowest of the low.
+
+And still the voices sang in supplication to the Virgin most powerful,
+Virgin most merciful. And Gerty, rapt in thought, scarce saw or heard
+her companions or the twins at their boyish gambols or the gentleman
+off Sandymount green that Cissy Caffrey called the man that was so like
+himself passing along the strand taking a short walk. You never saw him
+any way screwed but still and for all that she would not like him for a
+father because he was too old or something or on account of his face
+(it was a palpable case of Doctor Fell) or his carbuncly nose with the
+pimples on it and his sandy moustache a bit white under his nose. Poor
+father! With all his faults she loved him still when he sang _Tell me,
+Mary, how to woo thee_ or _My love and cottage near Rochelle_ and they
+had stewed cockles and lettuce with Lazenby's salad dressing for
+supper and when he sang _The moon hath raised_ with Mr Dignam that
+died suddenly and was buried, God have mercy on him, from a stroke. Her
+mother's birthday that was and Charley was home on his holidays and Tom
+and Mr Dignam and Mrs and Patsy and Freddy Dignam and they were to have
+had a group taken. No-one would have thought the end was so near. Now he
+was laid to rest. And her mother said to him to let that be a warning to
+him for the rest of his days and he couldn't even go to the funeral on
+account of the gout and she had to go into town to bring him the
+letters and samples from his office about Catesby's cork lino, artistic,
+standard designs, fit for a palace, gives tiptop wear and always bright
+and cheery in the home.
+
+A sterling good daughter was Gerty just like a second mother in the
+house, a ministering angel too with a little heart worth its weight in
+gold. And when her mother had those raging splitting headaches who was
+it rubbed the menthol cone on her forehead but Gerty though she didn't
+like her mother's taking pinches of snuff and that was the only single
+thing they ever had words about, taking snuff. Everyone thought the
+world of her for her gentle ways. It was Gerty who turned off the gas at
+the main every night and it was Gerty who tacked up on the wall of that
+place where she never forgot every fortnight the chlorate of lime Mr
+Tunney the grocer's christmas almanac, the picture of halcyon days
+where a young gentleman in the costume they used to wear then with a
+threecornered hat was offering a bunch of flowers to his ladylove with
+oldtime chivalry through her lattice window. You could see there was a
+story behind it. The colours were done something lovely. She was in
+a soft clinging white in a studied attitude and the gentleman was in
+chocolate and he looked a thorough aristocrat. She often looked at them
+dreamily when she went there for a certain purpose and felt her own
+arms that were white and soft just like hers with the sleeves back
+and thought about those times because she had found out in Walker's
+pronouncing dictionary that belonged to grandpapa Giltrap about the
+halcyon days what they meant.
+
+The twins were now playing in the most approved brotherly fashion
+till at last Master Jacky who was really as bold as brass there was
+no getting behind that deliberately kicked the ball as hard as ever he
+could down towards the seaweedy rocks. Needless to say poor Tommy was
+not slow to voice his dismay but luckily the gentleman in black who was
+sitting there by himself came gallantly to the rescue and intercepted
+the ball. Our two champions claimed their plaything with lusty cries and
+to avoid trouble Cissy Caffrey called to the gentleman to throw it to
+her please. The gentleman aimed the ball once or twice and then threw
+it up the strand towards Cissy Caffrey but it rolled down the slope and
+stopped right under Gerty's skirt near the little pool by the rock. The
+twins clamoured again for it and Cissy told her to kick it away and
+let them fight for it so Gerty drew back her foot but she wished their
+stupid ball hadn't come rolling down to her and she gave a kick but she
+missed and Edy and Cissy laughed.
+
+--If you fail try again, Edy Boardman said.
+
+Gerty smiled assent and bit her lip. A delicate pink crept into her
+pretty cheek but she was determined to let them see so she just lifted
+her skirt a little but just enough and took good aim and gave the ball a
+jolly good kick and it went ever so far and the two twins after it down
+towards the shingle. Pure jealousy of course it was nothing else to draw
+attention on account of the gentleman opposite looking. She felt the
+warm flush, a danger signal always with Gerty MacDowell, surging and
+flaming into her cheeks. Till then they had only exchanged glances of
+the most casual but now under the brim of her new hat she ventured a
+look at him and the face that met her gaze there in the twilight, wan
+and strangely drawn, seemed to her the saddest she had ever seen.
+
+Through the open window of the church the fragrant incense was wafted
+and with it the fragrant names of her who was conceived without stain of
+original sin, spiritual vessel, pray for us, honourable vessel, pray
+for us, vessel of singular devotion, pray for us, mystical rose. And
+careworn hearts were there and toilers for their daily bread and many
+who had erred and wandered, their eyes wet with contrition but for all
+that bright with hope for the reverend father Father Hughes had told
+them what the great saint Bernard said in his famous prayer of Mary, the
+most pious Virgin's intercessory power that it was not recorded in any
+age that those who implored her powerful protection were ever abandoned
+by her.
+
+The twins were now playing again right merrily for the troubles of
+childhood are but as fleeting summer showers. Cissy Caffrey played with
+baby Boardman till he crowed with glee, clapping baby hands in air. Peep
+she cried behind the hood of the pushcar and Edy asked where was Cissy
+gone and then Cissy popped up her head and cried ah! and, my word,
+didn't the little chap enjoy that! And then she told him to say papa.
+
+--Say papa, baby. Say pa pa pa pa pa pa pa.
+
+And baby did his level best to say it for he was very intelligent for
+eleven months everyone said and big for his age and the picture of
+health, a perfect little bunch of love, and he would certainly turn out
+to be something great, they said.
+
+--Haja ja ja haja.
+
+Cissy wiped his little mouth with the dribbling bib and wanted him to
+sit up properly and say pa pa pa but when she undid the strap she cried
+out, holy saint Denis, that he was possing wet and to double the half
+blanket the other way under him. Of course his infant majesty was most
+obstreperous at such toilet formalities and he let everyone know it:
+
+--Habaa baaaahabaaa baaaa.
+
+And two great big lovely big tears coursing down his cheeks. It was all
+no use soothering him with no, nono, baby, no and telling him about the
+geegee and where was the puffpuff but Ciss, always readywitted, gave
+him in his mouth the teat of the suckingbottle and the young heathen was
+quickly appeased.
+
+Gerty wished to goodness they would take their squalling baby home out
+of that and not get on her nerves, no hour to be out, and the little
+brats of twins. She gazed out towards the distant sea. It was like the
+paintings that man used to do on the pavement with all the coloured
+chalks and such a pity too leaving them there to be all blotted out, the
+evening and the clouds coming out and the Bailey light on Howth and to
+hear the music like that and the perfume of those incense they burned
+in the church like a kind of waft. And while she gazed her heart went
+pitapat. Yes, it was her he was looking at, and there was meaning in his
+look. His eyes burned into her as though they would search her through
+and through, read her very soul. Wonderful eyes they were, superbly
+expressive, but could you trust them? People were so queer. She could
+see at once by his dark eyes and his pale intellectual face that he
+was a foreigner, the image of the photo she had of Martin Harvey, the
+matinee idol, only for the moustache which she preferred because she
+wasn't stagestruck like Winny Rippingham that wanted they two to always
+dress the same on account of a play but she could not see whether he had
+an aquiline nose or a slightly _retroussé_ from where he was sitting.
+He was in deep mourning, she could see that, and the story of a haunting
+sorrow was written on his face. She would have given worlds to know what
+it was. He was looking up so intently, so still, and he saw her kick the
+ball and perhaps he could see the bright steel buckles of her shoes if
+she swung them like that thoughtfully with the toes down. She was glad
+that something told her to put on the transparent stockings thinking
+Reggy Wylie might be out but that was far away. Here was that of which
+she had so often dreamed. It was he who mattered and there was joy on
+her face because she wanted him because she felt instinctively that he
+was like no-one else. The very heart of the girlwoman went out to him,
+her dreamhusband, because she knew on the instant it was him. If he had
+suffered, more sinned against than sinning, or even, even, if he had
+been himself a sinner, a wicked man, she cared not. Even if he was a
+protestant or methodist she could convert him easily if he truly loved
+her. There were wounds that wanted healing with heartbalm. She was a
+womanly woman not like other flighty girls unfeminine he had known,
+those cyclists showing off what they hadn't got and she just yearned to
+know all, to forgive all if she could make him fall in love with her,
+make him forget the memory of the past. Then mayhap he would embrace her
+gently, like a real man, crushing her soft body to him, and love her,
+his ownest girlie, for herself alone.
+
+Refuge of sinners. Comfortress of the afflicted. _Ora pro nobis_. Well
+has it been said that whosoever prays to her with faith and constancy
+can never be lost or cast away: and fitly is she too a haven of refuge
+for the afflicted because of the seven dolours which transpierced
+her own heart. Gerty could picture the whole scene in the church, the
+stained glass windows lighted up, the candles, the flowers and the blue
+banners of the blessed Virgin's sodality and Father Conroy was helping
+Canon O'Hanlon at the altar, carrying things in and out with his eyes
+cast down. He looked almost a saint and his confessionbox was so quiet
+and clean and dark and his hands were just like white wax and if ever
+she became a Dominican nun in their white habit perhaps he might come to
+the convent for the novena of Saint Dominic. He told her that time when
+she told him about that in confession, crimsoning up to the roots of her
+hair for fear he could see, not to be troubled because that was only the
+voice of nature and we were all subject to nature's laws, he said, in
+this life and that that was no sin because that came from the nature of
+woman instituted by God, he said, and that Our Blessed Lady herself said
+to the archangel Gabriel be it done unto me according to Thy Word. He
+was so kind and holy and often and often she thought and thought could
+she work a ruched teacosy with embroidered floral design for him as a
+present or a clock but they had a clock she noticed on the mantelpiece
+white and gold with a canarybird that came out of a little house to tell
+the time the day she went there about the flowers for the forty hours'
+adoration because it was hard to know what sort of a present to give or
+perhaps an album of illuminated views of Dublin or some place.
+
+The exasperating little brats of twins began to quarrel again and Jacky
+threw the ball out towards the sea and they both ran after it. Little
+monkeys common as ditchwater. Someone ought to take them and give them
+a good hiding for themselves to keep them in their places, the both of
+them. And Cissy and Edy shouted after them to come back because they
+were afraid the tide might come in on them and be drowned.
+
+--Jacky! Tommy!
+
+Not they! What a great notion they had! So Cissy said it was the very
+last time she'd ever bring them out. She jumped up and called them and
+she ran down the slope past him, tossing her hair behind her which had
+a good enough colour if there had been more of it but with all the
+thingamerry she was always rubbing into it she couldn't get it to grow
+long because it wasn't natural so she could just go and throw her hat at
+it. She ran with long gandery strides it was a wonder she didn't rip up
+her skirt at the side that was too tight on her because there was a lot
+of the tomboy about Cissy Caffrey and she was a forward piece whenever
+she thought she had a good opportunity to show and just because she was
+a good runner she ran like that so that he could see all the end of her
+petticoat running and her skinny shanks up as far as possible. It
+would have served her just right if she had tripped up over something
+accidentally on purpose with her high crooked French heels on her to
+make her look tall and got a fine tumble. _Tableau!_ That would have
+been a very charming expose for a gentleman like that to witness.
+
+Queen of angels, queen of patriarchs, queen of prophets, of all saints,
+they prayed, queen of the most holy rosary and then Father Conroy handed
+the thurible to Canon O'Hanlon and he put in the incense and censed the
+Blessed Sacrament and Cissy Caffrey caught the two twins and she was
+itching to give them a ringing good clip on the ear but she didn't
+because she thought he might be watching but she never made a bigger
+mistake in all her life because Gerty could see without looking that
+he never took his eyes off of her and then Canon O'Hanlon handed the
+thurible back to Father Conroy and knelt down looking up at the Blessed
+Sacrament and the choir began to sing the _Tantum ergo_ and she just
+swung her foot in and out in time as the music rose and fell to
+the _Tantumer gosa cramen tum_. Three and eleven she paid for those
+stockings in Sparrow's of George's street on the Tuesday, no the Monday
+before Easter and there wasn't a brack on them and that was what he
+was looking at, transparent, and not at her insignificant ones that had
+neither shape nor form (the cheek of her!) because he had eyes in his
+head to see the difference for himself.
+
+Cissy came up along the strand with the two twins and their ball with
+her hat anyhow on her to one side after her run and she did look a
+streel tugging the two kids along with the flimsy blouse she bought only
+a fortnight before like a rag on her back and a bit of her petticoat
+hanging like a caricature. Gerty just took off her hat for a moment to
+settle her hair and a prettier, a daintier head of nutbrown tresses was
+never seen on a girl's shoulders--a radiant little vision, in sooth,
+almost maddening in its sweetness. You would have to travel many a long
+mile before you found a head of hair the like of that. She could almost
+see the swift answering flash of admiration in his eyes that set her
+tingling in every nerve. She put on her hat so that she could see from
+underneath the brim and swung her buckled shoe faster for her breath
+caught as she caught the expression in his eyes. He was eying her as a
+snake eyes its prey. Her woman's instinct told her that she had raised
+the devil in him and at the thought a burning scarlet swept from throat
+to brow till the lovely colour of her face became a glorious rose.
+
+Edy Boardman was noticing it too because she was squinting at Gerty,
+half smiling, with her specs like an old maid, pretending to nurse the
+baby. Irritable little gnat she was and always would be and that was why
+no-one could get on with her poking her nose into what was no concern of
+hers. And she said to Gerty:
+
+--A penny for your thoughts.
+
+--What? replied Gerty with a smile reinforced by the whitest of teeth. I
+was only wondering was it late.
+
+Because she wished to goodness they'd take the snottynosed twins and
+their babby home to the mischief out of that so that was why she just
+gave a gentle hint about its being late. And when Cissy came up Edy
+asked her the time and Miss Cissy, as glib as you like, said it was half
+past kissing time, time to kiss again. But Edy wanted to know because
+they were told to be in early.
+
+--Wait, said Cissy, I'll run ask my uncle Peter over there what's the
+time by his conundrum.
+
+So over she went and when he saw her coming she could see him take his
+hand out of his pocket, getting nervous, and beginning to play with his
+watchchain, looking up at the church. Passionate nature though he was
+Gerty could see that he had enormous control over himself. One moment he
+had been there, fascinated by a loveliness that made him gaze, and the
+next moment it was the quiet gravefaced gentleman, selfcontrol expressed
+in every line of his distinguishedlooking figure.
+
+Cissy said to excuse her would he mind please telling her what was the
+right time and Gerty could see him taking out his watch, listening to it
+and looking up and clearing his throat and he said he was very sorry his
+watch was stopped but he thought it must be after eight because the
+sun was set. His voice had a cultured ring in it and though he spoke in
+measured accents there was a suspicion of a quiver in the mellow tones.
+Cissy said thanks and came back with her tongue out and said uncle said
+his waterworks were out of order.
+
+Then they sang the second verse of the _Tantum ergo_ and Canon O'Hanlon
+got up again and censed the Blessed Sacrament and knelt down and he told
+Father Conroy that one of the candles was just going to set fire to the
+flowers and Father Conroy got up and settled it all right and she could
+see the gentleman winding his watch and listening to the works and she
+swung her leg more in and out in time. It was getting darker but he
+could see and he was looking all the time that he was winding the watch
+or whatever he was doing to it and then he put it back and put his hands
+back into his pockets. She felt a kind of a sensation rushing all over
+her and she knew by the feel of her scalp and that irritation against
+her stays that that thing must be coming on because the last time too
+was when she clipped her hair on account of the moon. His dark eyes
+fixed themselves on her again drinking in her every contour, literally
+worshipping at her shrine. If ever there was undisguised admiration in a
+man's passionate gaze it was there plain to be seen on that man's face.
+It is for you, Gertrude MacDowell, and you know it.
+
+Edy began to get ready to go and it was high time for her and Gerty
+noticed that that little hint she gave had had the desired effect
+because it was a long way along the strand to where there was the place
+to push up the pushcar and Cissy took off the twins' caps and tidied
+their hair to make herself attractive of course and Canon O'Hanlon stood
+up with his cope poking up at his neck and Father Conroy handed him the
+card to read off and he read out _Panem de coelo praestitisti eis_ and
+Edy and Cissy were talking about the time all the time and asking her
+but Gerty could pay them back in their own coin and she just answered
+with scathing politeness when Edy asked her was she heartbroken about
+her best boy throwing her over. Gerty winced sharply. A brief cold blaze
+shone from her eyes that spoke volumes of scorn immeasurable. It hurt--O
+yes, it cut deep because Edy had her own quiet way of saying things
+like that she knew would wound like the confounded little cat she was.
+Gerty's lips parted swiftly to frame the word but she fought back
+the sob that rose to her throat, so slim, so flawless, so beautifully
+moulded it seemed one an artist might have dreamed of. She had loved him
+better than he knew. Lighthearted deceiver and fickle like all his sex
+he would never understand what he had meant to her and for an instant
+there was in the blue eyes a quick stinging of tears. Their eyes were
+probing her mercilessly but with a brave effort she sparkled back in
+sympathy as she glanced at her new conquest for them to see.
+
+--O, responded Gerty, quick as lightning, laughing, and the proud head
+flashed up. I can throw my cap at who I like because it's leap year.
+
+Her words rang out crystalclear, more musical than the cooing of the
+ringdove, but they cut the silence icily. There was that in her young
+voice that told that she was not a one to be lightly trifled with. As
+for Mr Reggy with his swank and his bit of money she could just chuck
+him aside as if he was so much filth and never again would she cast as
+much as a second thought on him and tear his silly postcard into a dozen
+pieces. And if ever after he dared to presume she could give him one
+look of measured scorn that would make him shrivel up on the spot. Miss
+puny little Edy's countenance fell to no slight extent and Gerty could
+see by her looking as black as thunder that she was simply in a towering
+rage though she hid it, the little kinnatt, because that shaft had
+struck home for her petty jealousy and they both knew that she was
+something aloof, apart, in another sphere, that she was not of them and
+never would be and there was somebody else too that knew it and saw it
+so they could put that in their pipe and smoke it.
+
+Edy straightened up baby Boardman to get ready to go and Cissy tucked in
+the ball and the spades and buckets and it was high time too because the
+sandman was on his way for Master Boardman junior. And Cissy told him
+too that billy winks was coming and that baby was to go deedaw and baby
+looked just too ducky, laughing up out of his gleeful eyes, and Cissy
+poked him like that out of fun in his wee fat tummy and baby, without as
+much as by your leave, sent up his compliments to all and sundry on to
+his brandnew dribbling bib.
+
+--O my! Puddeny pie! protested Ciss. He has his bib destroyed.
+
+The slight _contretemps_ claimed her attention but in two twos she set
+that little matter to rights.
+
+Gerty stifled a smothered exclamation and gave a nervous cough and Edy
+asked what and she was just going to tell her to catch it while it was
+flying but she was ever ladylike in her deportment so she simply passed
+it off with consummate tact by saying that that was the benediction
+because just then the bell rang out from the steeple over the quiet
+seashore because Canon O'Hanlon was up on the altar with the veil that
+Father Conroy put round his shoulders giving the benediction with the
+Blessed Sacrament in his hands.
+
+How moving the scene there in the gathering twilight, the last glimpse
+of Erin, the touching chime of those evening bells and at the same
+time a bat flew forth from the ivied belfry through the dusk, hither,
+thither, with a tiny lost cry. And she could see far away the lights of
+the lighthouses so picturesque she would have loved to do with a box of
+paints because it was easier than to make a man and soon the lamplighter
+would be going his rounds past the presbyterian church grounds and along
+by shady Tritonville avenue where the couples walked and lighting the
+lamp near her window where Reggy Wylie used to turn his freewheel like
+she read in that book _The Lamplighter_ by Miss Cummins, author of
+_Mabel Vaughan_ and other tales. For Gerty had her dreams that no-one
+knew of. She loved to read poetry and when she got a keepsake from
+Bertha Supple of that lovely confession album with the coralpink cover
+to write her thoughts in she laid it in the drawer of her toilettable
+which, though it did not err on the side of luxury, was scrupulously
+neat and clean. It was there she kept her girlish treasure trove, the
+tortoiseshell combs, her child of Mary badge, the whiterose scent, the
+eyebrowleine, her alabaster pouncetbox and the ribbons to change
+when her things came home from the wash and there were some beautiful
+thoughts written in it in violet ink that she bought in Hely's of Dame
+Street for she felt that she too could write poetry if she could only
+express herself like that poem that appealed to her so deeply that
+she had copied out of the newspaper she found one evening round the
+potherbs. _Art thou real, my ideal?_ it was called by Louis J Walsh,
+Magherafelt, and after there was something about _twilight, wilt thou
+ever?_ and ofttimes the beauty of poetry, so sad in its transient
+loveliness, had misted her eyes with silent tears for she felt that
+the years were slipping by for her, one by one, and but for that one
+shortcoming she knew she need fear no competition and that was an
+accident coming down Dalkey hill and she always tried to conceal it.
+But it must end, she felt. If she saw that magic lure in his eyes there
+would be no holding back for her. Love laughs at locksmiths. She
+would make the great sacrifice. Her every effort would be to share his
+thoughts. Dearer than the whole world would she be to him and gild his
+days with happiness. There was the allimportant question and she was
+dying to know was he a married man or a widower who had lost his wife
+or some tragedy like the nobleman with the foreign name from the land
+of song had to have her put into a madhouse, cruel only to be kind.
+But even if--what then? Would it make a very great difference? From
+everything in the least indelicate her finebred nature instinctively
+recoiled. She loathed that sort of person, the fallen women off the
+accommodation walk beside the Dodder that went with the soldiers and
+coarse men with no respect for a girl's honour, degrading the sex and
+being taken up to the police station. No, no: not that. They would be
+just good friends like a big brother and sister without all that other
+in spite of the conventions of Society with a big ess. Perhaps it was
+an old flame he was in mourning for from the days beyond recall. She
+thought she understood. She would try to understand him because men were
+so different. The old love was waiting, waiting with little white
+hands stretched out, with blue appealing eyes. Heart of mine! She would
+follow, her dream of love, the dictates of her heart that told her he
+was her all in all, the only man in all the world for her for love was
+the master guide. Nothing else mattered. Come what might she would be
+wild, untrammelled, free.
+
+Canon O'Hanlon put the Blessed Sacrament back into the tabernacle and
+genuflected and the choir sang _Laudate Dominum omnes gentes_ and then
+he locked the tabernacle door because the benediction was over and
+Father Conroy handed him his hat to put on and crosscat Edy asked wasn't
+she coming but Jacky Caffrey called out:
+
+--O, look, Cissy!
+
+And they all looked was it sheet lightning but Tommy saw it too over the
+trees beside the church, blue and then green and purple.
+
+--It's fireworks, Cissy Caffrey said.
+
+And they all ran down the strand to see over the houses and the church,
+helterskelter, Edy with the pushcar with baby Boardman in it and Cissy
+holding Tommy and Jacky by the hand so they wouldn't fall running.
+
+--Come on, Gerty, Cissy called. It's the bazaar fireworks.
+
+But Gerty was adamant. She had no intention of being at their beck and
+call. If they could run like rossies she could sit so she said she could
+see from where she was. The eyes that were fastened upon her set her
+pulses tingling. She looked at him a moment, meeting his glance, and
+a light broke in upon her. Whitehot passion was in that face, passion
+silent as the grave, and it had made her his. At last they were left
+alone without the others to pry and pass remarks and she knew he could
+be trusted to the death, steadfast, a sterling man, a man of inflexible
+honour to his fingertips. His hands and face were working and a tremour
+went over her. She leaned back far to look up where the fireworks were
+and she caught her knee in her hands so as not to fall back looking up
+and there was no-one to see only him and her when she revealed all her
+graceful beautifully shaped legs like that, supply soft and delicately
+rounded, and she seemed to hear the panting of his heart, his hoarse
+breathing, because she knew too about the passion of men like that,
+hotblooded, because Bertha Supple told her once in dead secret and made
+her swear she'd never about the gentleman lodger that was staying with
+them out of the Congested Districts Board that had pictures cut out of
+papers of those skirtdancers and highkickers and she said he used to do
+something not very nice that you could imagine sometimes in the bed. But
+this was altogether different from a thing like that because there was
+all the difference because she could almost feel him draw her face to
+his and the first quick hot touch of his handsome lips. Besides there
+was absolution so long as you didn't do the other thing before being
+married and there ought to be women priests that would understand
+without your telling out and Cissy Caffrey too sometimes had that dreamy
+kind of dreamy look in her eyes so that she too, my dear, and Winny
+Rippingham so mad about actors' photographs and besides it was on
+account of that other thing coming on the way it did.
+
+And Jacky Caffrey shouted to look, there was another and she leaned back
+and the garters were blue to match on account of the transparent and
+they all saw it and they all shouted to look, look, there it was and
+she leaned back ever so far to see the fireworks and something queer was
+flying through the air, a soft thing, to and fro, dark. And she saw a
+long Roman candle going up over the trees, up, up, and, in the tense
+hush, they were all breathless with excitement as it went higher and
+higher and she had to lean back more and more to look up after it, high,
+high, almost out of sight, and her face was suffused with a divine, an
+entrancing blush from straining back and he could see her other things
+too, nainsook knickers, the fabric that caresses the skin, better than
+those other pettiwidth, the green, four and eleven, on account of being
+white and she let him and she saw that he saw and then it went so high
+it went out of sight a moment and she was trembling in every limb from
+being bent so far back that he had a full view high up above her knee
+where no-one ever not even on the swing or wading and she wasn't ashamed
+and he wasn't either to look in that immodest way like that because he
+couldn't resist the sight of the wondrous revealment half offered like
+those skirtdancers behaving so immodest before gentlemen looking and he
+kept on looking, looking. She would fain have cried to him chokingly,
+held out her snowy slender arms to him to come, to feel his lips laid on
+her white brow, the cry of a young girl's love, a little strangled cry,
+wrung from her, that cry that has rung through the ages. And then a
+rocket sprang and bang shot blind blank and O! then the Roman candle
+burst and it was like a sigh of O! and everyone cried O! O! in raptures
+and it gushed out of it a stream of rain gold hair threads and they
+shed and ah! they were all greeny dewy stars falling with golden, O so
+lovely, O, soft, sweet, soft!
+
+Then all melted away dewily in the grey air: all was silent. Ah! She
+glanced at him as she bent forward quickly, a pathetic little glance of
+piteous protest, of shy reproach under which he coloured like a girl He
+was leaning back against the rock behind. Leopold Bloom (for it is he)
+stands silent, with bowed head before those young guileless eyes. What a
+brute he had been! At it again? A fair unsullied soul had called to him
+and, wretch that he was, how had he answered? An utter cad he had been!
+He of all men! But there was an infinite store of mercy in those eyes,
+for him too a word of pardon even though he had erred and sinned and
+wandered. Should a girl tell? No, a thousand times no. That was their
+secret, only theirs, alone in the hiding twilight and there was none to
+know or tell save the little bat that flew so softly through the evening
+to and fro and little bats don't tell.
+
+Cissy Caffrey whistled, imitating the boys in the football field to show
+what a great person she was: and then she cried:
+
+--Gerty! Gerty! We're going. Come on. We can see from farther up.
+
+Gerty had an idea, one of love's little ruses. She slipped a hand into
+her kerchief pocket and took out the wadding and waved in reply of
+course without letting him and then slipped it back. Wonder if he's too
+far to. She rose. Was it goodbye? No. She had to go but they would meet
+again, there, and she would dream of that till then, tomorrow, of her
+dream of yester eve. She drew herself up to her full height. Their souls
+met in a last lingering glance and the eyes that reached her heart, full
+of a strange shining, hung enraptured on her sweet flowerlike face. She
+half smiled at him wanly, a sweet forgiving smile, a smile that verged
+on tears, and then they parted.
+
+Slowly, without looking back she went down the uneven strand to Cissy,
+to Edy to Jacky and Tommy Caffrey, to little baby Boardman. It was
+darker now and there were stones and bits of wood on the strand and
+slippy seaweed. She walked with a certain quiet dignity characteristic
+of her but with care and very slowly because--because Gerty MacDowell
+was...
+
+Tight boots? No. She's lame! O!
+
+Mr Bloom watched her as she limped away. Poor girl! That's why she's
+left on the shelf and the others did a sprint. Thought something was
+wrong by the cut of her jib. Jilted beauty. A defect is ten times worse
+in a woman. But makes them polite. Glad I didn't know it when she was on
+show. Hot little devil all the same. I wouldn't mind. Curiosity like a
+nun or a negress or a girl with glasses. That squinty one is delicate.
+Near her monthlies, I expect, makes them feel ticklish. I have such
+a bad headache today. Where did I put the letter? Yes, all right. All
+kinds of crazy longings. Licking pennies. Girl in Tranquilla convent
+that nun told me liked to smell rock oil. Virgins go mad in the end I
+suppose. Sister? How many women in Dublin have it today? Martha, she.
+Something in the air. That's the moon. But then why don't all women
+menstruate at the same time with the same moon, I mean? Depends on the
+time they were born I suppose. Or all start scratch then get out of
+step. Sometimes Molly and Milly together. Anyhow I got the best of that.
+Damned glad I didn't do it in the bath this morning over her silly I
+will punish you letter. Made up for that tramdriver this morning. That
+gouger M'Coy stopping me to say nothing. And his wife engagement in the
+country valise, voice like a pickaxe. Thankful for small mercies.
+Cheap too. Yours for the asking. Because they want it themselves. Their
+natural craving. Shoals of them every evening poured out of offices.
+Reserve better. Don't want it they throw it at you. Catch em alive, O.
+Pity they can't see themselves. A dream of wellfilled hose. Where was
+that? Ah, yes. Mutoscope pictures in Capel street: for men only. Peeping
+Tom. Willy's hat and what the girls did with it. Do they snapshot those
+girls or is it all a fake? _Lingerie_ does it. Felt for the curves
+inside her _deshabillé._ Excites them also when they're. I'm all clean
+come and dirty me. And they like dressing one another for the sacrifice.
+Milly delighted with Molly's new blouse. At first. Put them all on to
+take them all off. Molly. Why I bought her the violet garters. Us too:
+the tie he wore, his lovely socks and turnedup trousers. He wore a pair
+of gaiters the night that first we met. His lovely shirt was shining
+beneath his what? of jet. Say a woman loses a charm with every pin she
+takes out. Pinned together. O, Mairy lost the pin of her. Dressed up to
+the nines for somebody. Fashion part of their charm. Just changes when
+you're on the track of the secret. Except the east: Mary, Martha: now as
+then. No reasonable offer refused. She wasn't in a hurry either. Always
+off to a fellow when they are. They never forget an appointment. Out on
+spec probably. They believe in chance because like themselves. And the
+others inclined to give her an odd dig. Girl friends at school, arms
+round each other's necks or with ten fingers locked, kissing and
+whispering secrets about nothing in the convent garden. Nuns with
+whitewashed faces, cool coifs and their rosaries going up and down,
+vindictive too for what they can't get. Barbed wire. Be sure now and
+write to me. And I'll write to you. Now won't you? Molly and Josie
+Powell. Till Mr Right comes along, then meet once in a blue moon.
+_Tableau!_ O, look who it is for the love of God! How are you at all?
+What have you been doing with yourself? Kiss and delighted to, kiss,
+to see you. Picking holes in each other's appearance. You're looking
+splendid. Sister souls. Showing their teeth at one another. How many
+have you left? Wouldn't lend each other a pinch of salt.
+
+Ah!
+
+Devils they are when that's coming on them. Dark devilish appearance.
+Molly often told me feel things a ton weight. Scratch the sole of my
+foot. O that way! O, that's exquisite! Feel it myself too. Good to rest
+once in a way. Wonder if it's bad to go with them then. Safe in one way.
+Turns milk, makes fiddlestrings snap. Something about withering plants I
+read in a garden. Besides they say if the flower withers she wears she's
+a flirt. All are. Daresay she felt 1. When you feel like that you often
+meet what you feel. Liked me or what? Dress they look at. Always know a
+fellow courting: collars and cuffs. Well cocks and lions do the same
+and stags. Same time might prefer a tie undone or something. Trousers?
+Suppose I when I was? No. Gently does it. Dislike rough and tumble. Kiss
+in the dark and never tell. Saw something in me. Wonder what. Sooner
+have me as I am than some poet chap with bearsgrease plastery hair,
+lovelock over his dexter optic. To aid gentleman in literary. Ought to
+attend to my appearance my age. Didn't let her see me in profile. Still,
+you never know. Pretty girls and ugly men marrying. Beauty and the
+beast. Besides I can't be so if Molly. Took off her hat to show her
+hair. Wide brim. Bought to hide her face, meeting someone might know
+her, bend down or carry a bunch of flowers to smell. Hair strong in rut.
+Ten bob I got for Molly's combings when we were on the rocks in Holles
+street. Why not? Suppose he gave her money. Why not? All a prejudice.
+She's worth ten, fifteen, more, a pound. What? I think so. All that for
+nothing. Bold hand: Mrs Marion. Did I forget to write address on
+that letter like the postcard I sent to Flynn? And the day I went to
+Drimmie's without a necktie. Wrangle with Molly it was put me off. No,
+I remember. Richie Goulding: he's another. Weighs on his mind. Funny
+my watch stopped at half past four. Dust. Shark liver oil they use to
+clean. Could do it myself. Save. Was that just when he, she?
+
+O, he did. Into her. She did. Done.
+
+Ah!
+
+Mr Bloom with careful hand recomposed his wet shirt. O Lord, that little
+limping devil. Begins to feel cold and clammy. Aftereffect not pleasant.
+Still you have to get rid of it someway. They don't care. Complimented
+perhaps. Go home to nicey bread and milky and say night prayers with the
+kiddies. Well, aren't they? See her as she is spoil all. Must have
+the stage setting, the rouge, costume, position, music. The name too.
+_Amours_ of actresses. Nell Gwynn, Mrs Bracegirdle, Maud Branscombe.
+Curtain up. Moonlight silver effulgence. Maiden discovered with pensive
+bosom. Little sweetheart come and kiss me. Still, I feel. The strength
+it gives a man. That's the secret of it. Good job I let off there behind
+the wall coming out of Dignam's. Cider that was. Otherwise I couldn't
+have. Makes you want to sing after. _Lacaus esant taratara_. Suppose I
+spoke to her. What about? Bad plan however if you don't know how to end
+the conversation. Ask them a question they ask you another. Good idea if
+you're stuck. Gain time. But then you're in a cart. Wonderful of course
+if you say: good evening, and you see she's on for it: good evening. O
+but the dark evening in the Appian way I nearly spoke to Mrs Clinch O
+thinking she was. Whew! Girl in Meath street that night. All the dirty
+things I made her say. All wrong of course. My arks she called it. It's
+so hard to find one who. Aho! If you don't answer when they solicit must
+be horrible for them till they harden. And kissed my hand when I gave
+her the extra two shillings. Parrots. Press the button and the bird will
+squeak. Wish she hadn't called me sir. O, her mouth in the dark! And you
+a married man with a single girl! That's what they enjoy. Taking a man
+from another woman. Or even hear of it. Different with me. Glad to get
+away from other chap's wife. Eating off his cold plate. Chap in the
+Burton today spitting back gumchewed gristle. French letter still in
+my pocketbook. Cause of half the trouble. But might happen sometime,
+I don't think. Come in, all is prepared. I dreamt. What? Worst is
+beginning. How they change the venue when it's not what they like. Ask
+you do you like mushrooms because she once knew a gentleman who. Or ask
+you what someone was going to say when he changed his mind and stopped.
+Yet if I went the whole hog, say: I want to, something like that.
+Because I did. She too. Offend her. Then make it up. Pretend to want
+something awfully, then cry off for her sake. Flatters them. She must
+have been thinking of someone else all the time. What harm? Must since
+she came to the use of reason, he, he and he. First kiss does the trick.
+The propitious moment. Something inside them goes pop. Mushy like, tell
+by their eye, on the sly. First thoughts are best. Remember that till
+their dying day. Molly, lieutenant Mulvey that kissed her under the
+Moorish wall beside the gardens. Fifteen she told me. But her breasts
+were developed. Fell asleep then. After Glencree dinner that was when we
+drove home. Featherbed mountain. Gnashing her teeth in sleep. Lord mayor
+had his eye on her too. Val Dillon. Apoplectic.
+
+There she is with them down there for the fireworks. My fireworks. Up
+like a rocket, down like a stick. And the children, twins they must
+be, waiting for something to happen. Want to be grownups. Dressing in
+mother's clothes. Time enough, understand all the ways of the world. And
+the dark one with the mop head and the nigger mouth. I knew she could
+whistle. Mouth made for that. Like Molly. Why that highclass whore in
+Jammet's wore her veil only to her nose. Would you mind, please, telling
+me the right time? I'll tell you the right time up a dark lane.
+Say prunes and prisms forty times every morning, cure for fat lips.
+Caressing the little boy too. Onlookers see most of the game. Of course
+they understand birds, animals, babies. In their line.
+
+Didn't look back when she was going down the strand. Wouldn't give that
+satisfaction. Those girls, those girls, those lovely seaside girls. Fine
+eyes she had, clear. It's the white of the eye brings that out not so
+much the pupil. Did she know what I? Course. Like a cat sitting beyond
+a dog's jump. Women never meet one like that Wilkins in the high school
+drawing a picture of Venus with all his belongings on show. Call that
+innocence? Poor idiot! His wife has her work cut out for her. Never see
+them sit on a bench marked _Wet Paint_. Eyes all over them. Look under
+the bed for what's not there. Longing to get the fright of their lives.
+Sharp as needles they are. When I said to Molly the man at the corner of
+Cuffe street was goodlooking, thought she might like, twigged at once he
+had a false arm. Had, too. Where do they get that? Typist going up Roger
+Greene's stairs two at a time to show her understandings. Handed down
+from father to, mother to daughter, I mean. Bred in the bone. Milly for
+example drying her handkerchief on the mirror to save the ironing. Best
+place for an ad to catch a woman's eye on a mirror. And when I sent
+her for Molly's Paisley shawl to Prescott's by the way that ad I must,
+carrying home the change in her stocking! Clever little minx. I never
+told her. Neat way she carries parcels too. Attract men, small thing
+like that. Holding up her hand, shaking it, to let the blood flow back
+when it was red. Who did you learn that from? Nobody. Something the
+nurse taught me. O, don't they know! Three years old she was in front of
+Molly's dressingtable, just before we left Lombard street west. Me have
+a nice pace. Mullingar. Who knows? Ways of the world. Young student.
+Straight on her pins anyway not like the other. Still she was game.
+Lord, I am wet. Devil you are. Swell of her calf. Transparent stockings,
+stretched to breaking point. Not like that frump today. A. E. Rumpled
+stockings. Or the one in Grafton street. White. Wow! Beef to the heel.
+
+A monkey puzzle rocket burst, spluttering in darting crackles. Zrads and
+zrads, zrads, zrads. And Cissy and Tommy and Jacky ran out to see and
+Edy after with the pushcar and then Gerty beyond the curve of the rocks.
+Will she? Watch! Watch! See! Looked round. She smelt an onion. Darling,
+I saw, your. I saw all.
+
+Lord!
+
+Did me good all the same. Off colour after Kiernan's, Dignam's. For
+this relief much thanks. In _Hamlet,_ that is. Lord! It was all things
+combined. Excitement. When she leaned back, felt an ache at the butt
+of my tongue. Your head it simply swirls. He's right. Might have made a
+worse fool of myself however. Instead of talking about nothing. Then
+I will tell you all. Still it was a kind of language between us. It
+couldn't be? No, Gerty they called her. Might be false name however like
+my name and the address Dolphin's barn a blind.
+
+_Her maiden name was Jemina Brown And she lived with her mother in
+Irishtown._
+
+Place made me think of that I suppose. All tarred with the same brush
+Wiping pens in their stockings. But the ball rolled down to her as if
+it understood. Every bullet has its billet. Course I never could throw
+anything straight at school. Crooked as a ram's horn. Sad however
+because it lasts only a few years till they settle down to potwalloping
+and papa's pants will soon fit Willy and fuller's earth for the baby
+when they hold him out to do ah ah. No soft job. Saves them. Keeps
+them out of harm's way. Nature. Washing child, washing corpse. Dignam.
+Children's hands always round them. Cocoanut skulls, monkeys, not even
+closed at first, sour milk in their swaddles and tainted curds. Oughtn't
+to have given that child an empty teat to suck. Fill it up with wind.
+Mrs Beaufoy, Purefoy. Must call to the hospital. Wonder is nurse Callan
+there still. She used to look over some nights when Molly was in the
+Coffee Palace. That young doctor O'Hare I noticed her brushing his coat.
+And Mrs Breen and Mrs Dignam once like that too, marriageable. Worst
+of all at night Mrs Duggan told me in the City Arms. Husband rolling in
+drunk, stink of pub off him like a polecat. Have that in your nose in
+the dark, whiff of stale boose. Then ask in the morning: was I drunk
+last night? Bad policy however to fault the husband. Chickens come home
+to roost. They stick by one another like glue. Maybe the women's fault
+also. That's where Molly can knock spots off them. It's the blood of the
+south. Moorish. Also the form, the figure. Hands felt for the opulent.
+Just compare for instance those others. Wife locked up at home, skeleton
+in the cupboard. Allow me to introduce my. Then they trot you out some
+kind of a nondescript, wouldn't know what to call her. Always see a
+fellow's weak point in his wife. Still there's destiny in it, falling
+in love. Have their own secrets between them. Chaps that would go to the
+dogs if some woman didn't take them in hand. Then little chits of girls,
+height of a shilling in coppers, with little hubbies. As God made them
+he matched them. Sometimes children turn out well enough. Twice nought
+makes one. Or old rich chap of seventy and blushing bride. Marry in May
+and repent in December. This wet is very unpleasant. Stuck. Well the
+foreskin is not back. Better detach.
+
+Ow!
+
+Other hand a sixfooter with a wifey up to his watchpocket. Long and
+the short of it. Big he and little she. Very strange about my watch.
+Wristwatches are always going wrong. Wonder is there any magnetic
+influence between the person because that was about the time he. Yes, I
+suppose, at once. Cat's away, the mice will play. I remember looking
+in Pill lane. Also that now is magnetism. Back of everything magnetism.
+Earth for instance pulling this and being pulled. That causes movement.
+And time, well that's the time the movement takes. Then if one thing
+stopped the whole ghesabo would stop bit by bit. Because it's all
+arranged. Magnetic needle tells you what's going on in the sun, the
+stars. Little piece of steel iron. When you hold out the fork. Come.
+Come. Tip. Woman and man that is. Fork and steel. Molly, he. Dress up
+and look and suggest and let you see and see more and defy you if you're
+a man to see that and, like a sneeze coming, legs, look, look and if you
+have any guts in you. Tip. Have to let fly.
+
+Wonder how is she feeling in that region. Shame all put on before third
+person. More put out about a hole in her stocking. Molly, her underjaw
+stuck out, head back, about the farmer in the ridingboots and spurs at
+the horse show. And when the painters were in Lombard street west.
+Fine voice that fellow had. How Giuglini began. Smell that I did. Like
+flowers. It was too. Violets. Came from the turpentine probably in the
+paint. Make their own use of everything. Same time doing it scraped her
+slipper on the floor so they wouldn't hear. But lots of them can't kick
+the beam, I think. Keep that thing up for hours. Kind of a general all
+round over me and half down my back.
+
+Wait. Hm. Hm. Yes. That's her perfume. Why she waved her hand. I leave
+you this to think of me when I'm far away on the pillow. What is it?
+Heliotrope? No. Hyacinth? Hm. Roses, I think. She'd like scent of that
+kind. Sweet and cheap: soon sour. Why Molly likes opoponax. Suits her,
+with a little jessamine mixed. Her high notes and her low notes. At the
+dance night she met him, dance of the hours. Heat brought it out. She
+was wearing her black and it had the perfume of the time before. Good
+conductor, is it? Or bad? Light too. Suppose there's some connection.
+For instance if you go into a cellar where it's dark. Mysterious thing
+too. Why did I smell it only now? Took its time in coming like herself,
+slow but sure. Suppose it's ever so many millions of tiny grains
+blown across. Yes, it is. Because those spice islands, Cinghalese this
+morning, smell them leagues off. Tell you what it is. It's like a fine
+fine veil or web they have all over the skin, fine like what do you
+call it gossamer, and they're always spinning it out of them, fine as
+anything, like rainbow colours without knowing it. Clings to everything
+she takes off. Vamp of her stockings. Warm shoe. Stays. Drawers: little
+kick, taking them off. Byby till next time. Also the cat likes to sniff
+in her shift on the bed. Know her smell in a thousand. Bathwater too.
+Reminds me of strawberries and cream. Wonder where it is really. There
+or the armpits or under the neck. Because you get it out of all holes
+and corners. Hyacinth perfume made of oil of ether or something.
+Muskrat. Bag under their tails. One grain pour off odour for years. Dogs
+at each other behind. Good evening. Evening. How do you sniff? Hm. Hm.
+Very well, thank you. Animals go by that. Yes now, look at it that way.
+We're the same. Some women, instance, warn you off when they have their
+period. Come near. Then get a hogo you could hang your hat on. Like
+what? Potted herrings gone stale or. Boof! Please keep off the grass.
+
+Perhaps they get a man smell off us. What though? Cigary gloves long
+John had on his desk the other day. Breath? What you eat and drink gives
+that. No. Mansmell, I mean. Must be connected with that because priests
+that are supposed to be are different. Women buzz round it like flies
+round treacle. Railed off the altar get on to it at any cost. The tree
+of forbidden priest. O, father, will you? Let me be the first to. That
+diffuses itself all through the body, permeates. Source of life. And
+it's extremely curious the smell. Celery sauce. Let me.
+
+Mr Bloom inserted his nose. Hm. Into the. Hm. Opening of his waistcoat.
+Almonds or. No. Lemons it is. Ah no, that's the soap.
+
+O by the by that lotion. I knew there was something on my mind. Never
+went back and the soap not paid. Dislike carrying bottles like that hag
+this morning. Hynes might have paid me that three shillings. I could
+mention Meagher's just to remind him. Still if he works that paragraph.
+Two and nine. Bad opinion of me he'll have. Call tomorrow. How much do
+I owe you? Three and nine? Two and nine, sir. Ah. Might stop him giving
+credit another time. Lose your customers that way. Pubs do. Fellows run
+up a bill on the slate and then slinking around the back streets into
+somewhere else.
+
+Here's this nobleman passed before. Blown in from the bay. Just went as
+far as turn back. Always at home at dinnertime. Looks mangled out: had a
+good tuck in. Enjoying nature now. Grace after meals. After supper walk
+a mile. Sure he has a small bank balance somewhere, government sit. Walk
+after him now make him awkward like those newsboys me today. Still you
+learn something. See ourselves as others see us. So long as women don't
+mock what matter? That's the way to find out. Ask yourself who is he
+now. _The Mystery Man on the Beach_, prize titbit story by Mr Leopold
+Bloom. Payment at the rate of one guinea per column. And that fellow
+today at the graveside in the brown macintosh. Corns on his kismet
+however. Healthy perhaps absorb all the. Whistle brings rain they say.
+Must be some somewhere. Salt in the Ormond damp. The body feels the
+atmosphere. Old Betty's joints are on the rack. Mother Shipton's
+prophecy that is about ships around they fly in the twinkling. No. Signs
+of rain it is. The royal reader. And distant hills seem coming nigh.
+
+Howth. Bailey light. Two, four, six, eight, nine. See. Has to change or
+they might think it a house. Wreckers. Grace Darling. People afraid of
+the dark. Also glowworms, cyclists: lightingup time. Jewels diamonds
+flash better. Women. Light is a kind of reassuring. Not going to hurt
+you. Better now of course than long ago. Country roads. Run you through
+the small guts for nothing. Still two types there are you bob against.
+Scowl or smile. Pardon! Not at all. Best time to spray plants too in
+the shade after the sun. Some light still. Red rays are longest. Roygbiv
+Vance taught us: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. A
+star I see. Venus? Can't tell yet. Two. When three it's night. Were
+those nightclouds there all the time? Looks like a phantom ship. No.
+Wait. Trees are they? An optical illusion. Mirage. Land of the setting
+sun this. Homerule sun setting in the southeast. My native land,
+goodnight.
+
+Dew falling. Bad for you, dear, to sit on that stone. Brings on white
+fluxions. Never have little baby then less he was big strong fight his
+way up through. Might get piles myself. Sticks too like a summer cold,
+sore on the mouth. Cut with grass or paper worst. Friction of the
+position. Like to be that rock she sat on. O sweet little, you don't
+know how nice you looked. I begin to like them at that age. Green
+apples. Grab at all that offer. Suppose it's the only time we cross
+legs, seated. Also the library today: those girl graduates. Happy chairs
+under them. But it's the evening influence. They feel all that. Open
+like flowers, know their hours, sunflowers, Jerusalem artichokes, in
+ballrooms, chandeliers, avenues under the lamps. Nightstock in Mat
+Dillon's garden where I kissed her shoulder. Wish I had a full length
+oilpainting of her then. June that was too I wooed. The year returns.
+History repeats itself. Ye crags and peaks I'm with you once again.
+Life, love, voyage round your own little world. And now? Sad about her
+lame of course but must be on your guard not to feel too much pity. They
+take advantage.
+
+All quiet on Howth now. The distant hills seem. Where we. The
+rhododendrons. I am a fool perhaps. He gets the plums, and I the
+plumstones. Where I come in. All that old hill has seen. Names change:
+that's all. Lovers: yum yum.
+
+Tired I feel now. Will I get up? O wait. Drained all the manhood out of
+me, little wretch. She kissed me. Never again. My youth. Only once it
+comes. Or hers. Take the train there tomorrow. No. Returning not the
+same. Like kids your second visit to a house. The new I want. Nothing
+new under the sun. Care of P. O. Dolphin's Barn. Are you not happy in
+your? Naughty darling. At Dolphin's barn charades in Luke Doyle's house.
+Mat Dillon and his bevy of daughters: Tiny, Atty, Floey, Maimy, Louy,
+Hetty. Molly too. Eightyseven that was. Year before we. And the old
+major, partial to his drop of spirits. Curious she an only child, I an
+only child. So it returns. Think you're escaping and run into yourself.
+Longest way round is the shortest way home. And just when he and she.
+Circus horse walking in a ring. Rip van Winkle we played. Rip: tear in
+Henny Doyle's overcoat. Van: breadvan delivering. Winkle: cockles and
+periwinkles. Then I did Rip van Winkle coming back. She leaned on the
+sideboard watching. Moorish eyes. Twenty years asleep in Sleepy Hollow.
+All changed. Forgotten. The young are old. His gun rusty from the dew.
+
+Ba. What is that flying about? Swallow? Bat probably. Thinks I'm a tree,
+so blind. Have birds no smell? Metempsychosis. They believed you could
+be changed into a tree from grief. Weeping willow. Ba. There he goes.
+Funny little beggar. Wonder where he lives. Belfry up there. Very
+likely. Hanging by his heels in the odour of sanctity. Bell scared him
+out, I suppose. Mass seems to be over. Could hear them all at it. Pray
+for us. And pray for us. And pray for us. Good idea the repetition. Same
+thing with ads. Buy from us. And buy from us. Yes, there's the light in
+the priest's house. Their frugal meal. Remember about the mistake in the
+valuation when I was in Thom's. Twentyeight it is. Two houses they have.
+Gabriel Conroy's brother is curate. Ba. Again. Wonder why they come out
+at night like mice. They're a mixed breed. Birds are like hopping mice.
+What frightens them, light or noise? Better sit still. All instinct
+like the bird in drouth got water out of the end of a jar by throwing
+in pebbles. Like a little man in a cloak he is with tiny hands. Weeny
+bones. Almost see them shimmering, kind of a bluey white. Colours depend
+on the light you see. Stare the sun for example like the eagle then look
+at a shoe see a blotch blob yellowish. Wants to stamp his trademark on
+everything. Instance, that cat this morning on the staircase. Colour of
+brown turf. Say you never see them with three colours. Not true. That
+half tabbywhite tortoiseshell in the _City Arms_ with the letter em on
+her forehead. Body fifty different colours. Howth a while ago amethyst.
+Glass flashing. That's how that wise man what's his name with the
+burning glass. Then the heather goes on fire. It can't be tourists'
+matches. What? Perhaps the sticks dry rub together in the wind and
+light. Or broken bottles in the furze act as a burning glass in the sun.
+Archimedes. I have it! My memory's not so bad.
+
+Ba. Who knows what they're always flying for. Insects? That bee last
+week got into the room playing with his shadow on the ceiling. Might
+be the one bit me, come back to see. Birds too. Never find out. Or what
+they say. Like our small talk. And says she and says he. Nerve they have
+to fly over the ocean and back. Lots must be killed in storms, telegraph
+wires. Dreadful life sailors have too. Big brutes of oceangoing steamers
+floundering along in the dark, lowing out like seacows. _Faugh a
+Ballagh!_ Out of that, bloody curse to you! Others in vessels, bit of
+a handkerchief sail, pitched about like snuff at a wake when the stormy
+winds do blow. Married too. Sometimes away for years at the ends of the
+earth somewhere. No ends really because it's round. Wife in every port
+they say. She has a good job if she minds it till Johnny comes marching
+home again. If ever he does. Smelling the tail end of ports. How can
+they like the sea? Yet they do. The anchor's weighed. Off he sails with
+a scapular or a medal on him for luck. Well. And the tephilim no what's
+this they call it poor papa's father had on his door to touch. That
+brought us out of the land of Egypt and into the house of bondage.
+Something in all those superstitions because when you go out never know
+what dangers. Hanging on to a plank or astride of a beam for grim life,
+lifebelt round him, gulping salt water, and that's the last of his nibs
+till the sharks catch hold of him. Do fish ever get seasick?
+
+Then you have a beautiful calm without a cloud, smooth sea, placid,
+crew and cargo in smithereens, Davy Jones' locker, moon looking down so
+peaceful. Not my fault, old cockalorum.
+
+A last lonely candle wandered up the sky from Mirus bazaar in search of
+funds for Mercer's hospital and broke, drooping, and shed a cluster
+of violet but one white stars. They floated, fell: they faded. The
+shepherd's hour: the hour of folding: hour of tryst. From house to
+house, giving his everwelcome double knock, went the nine o'clock
+postman, the glowworm's lamp at his belt gleaming here and there through
+the laurel hedges. And among the five young trees a hoisted lintstock
+lit the lamp at Leahy's terrace. By screens of lighted windows, by equal
+gardens a shrill voice went crying, wailing: _Evening Telegraph, stop
+press edition! Result of the Gold Cup race!_ and from the door of
+Dignam's house a boy ran out and called. Twittering the bat flew here,
+flew there. Far out over the sands the coming surf crept, grey. Howth
+settled for slumber, tired of long days, of yumyum rhododendrons (he was
+old) and felt gladly the night breeze lift, ruffle his fell of ferns.
+He lay but opened a red eye unsleeping, deep and slowly breathing,
+slumberous but awake. And far on Kish bank the anchored lightship
+twinkled, winked at Mr Bloom.
+
+Life those chaps out there must have, stuck in the same spot. Irish
+Lights board. Penance for their sins. Coastguards too. Rocket and
+breeches buoy and lifeboat. Day we went out for the pleasure cruise in
+the Erin's King, throwing them the sack of old papers. Bears in the zoo.
+Filthy trip. Drunkards out to shake up their livers. Puking overboard
+to feed the herrings. Nausea. And the women, fear of God in their faces.
+Milly, no sign of funk. Her blue scarf loose, laughing. Don't know what
+death is at that age. And then their stomachs clean. But being lost they
+fear. When we hid behind the tree at Crumlin. I didn't want to. Mamma!
+Mamma! Babes in the wood. Frightening them with masks too. Throwing them
+up in the air to catch them. I'll murder you. Is it only half fun? Or
+children playing battle. Whole earnest. How can people aim guns at each
+other. Sometimes they go off. Poor kids! Only troubles wildfire and
+nettlerash. Calomel purge I got her for that. After getting better
+asleep with Molly. Very same teeth she has. What do they love? Another
+themselves? But the morning she chased her with the umbrella. Perhaps so
+as not to hurt. I felt her pulse. Ticking. Little hand it was: now big.
+Dearest Papli. All that the hand says when you touch. Loved to count
+my waistcoat buttons. Her first stays I remember. Made me laugh to see.
+Little paps to begin with. Left one is more sensitive, I think. Mine
+too. Nearer the heart? Padding themselves out if fat is in fashion. Her
+growing pains at night, calling, wakening me. Frightened she was when
+her nature came on her first. Poor child! Strange moment for the mother
+too. Brings back her girlhood. Gibraltar. Looking from Buena Vista.
+O'Hara's tower. The seabirds screaming. Old Barbary ape that gobbled all
+his family. Sundown, gunfire for the men to cross the lines. Looking
+out over the sea she told me. Evening like this, but clear, no clouds.
+I always thought I'd marry a lord or a rich gentleman coming with a
+private yacht. _Buenas noches, señorita. El hombre ama la muchacha
+hermosa_. Why me? Because you were so foreign from the others.
+
+Better not stick here all night like a limpet. This weather makes you
+dull. Must be getting on for nine by the light. Go home. Too late for
+_Leah, Lily of Killarney._ No. Might be still up. Call to the hospital
+to see. Hope she's over. Long day I've had. Martha, the bath, funeral,
+house of Keyes, museum with those goddesses, Dedalus' song. Then that
+bawler in Barney Kiernan's. Got my own back there. Drunken ranters what
+I said about his God made him wince. Mistake to hit back. Or? No.
+Ought to go home and laugh at themselves. Always want to be swilling in
+company. Afraid to be alone like a child of two. Suppose he hit me. Look
+at it other way round. Not so bad then. Perhaps not to hurt he meant.
+Three cheers for Israel. Three cheers for the sister-in-law he hawked
+about, three fangs in her mouth. Same style of beauty. Particularly nice
+old party for a cup of tea. The sister of the wife of the wild man of
+Borneo has just come to town. Imagine that in the early morning at close
+range. Everyone to his taste as Morris said when he kissed the cow. But
+Dignam's put the boots on it. Houses of mourning so depressing because
+you never know. Anyhow she wants the money. Must call to those Scottish
+Widows as I promised. Strange name. Takes it for granted we're going to
+pop off first. That widow on Monday was it outside Cramer's that
+looked at me. Buried the poor husband but progressing favourably on
+the premium. Her widow's mite. Well? What do you expect her to do? Must
+wheedle her way along. Widower I hate to see. Looks so forlorn. Poor man
+O'Connor wife and five children poisoned by mussels here. The sewage.
+Hopeless. Some good matronly woman in a porkpie hat to mother him. Take
+him in tow, platter face and a large apron. Ladies' grey flannelette
+bloomers, three shillings a pair, astonishing bargain. Plain and loved,
+loved for ever, they say. Ugly: no woman thinks she is. Love, lie and be
+handsome for tomorrow we die. See him sometimes walking about trying to
+find out who played the trick. U. p: up. Fate that is. He, not me. Also
+a shop often noticed. Curse seems to dog it. Dreamt last night? Wait.
+Something confused. She had red slippers on. Turkish. Wore the breeches.
+Suppose she does? Would I like her in pyjamas? Damned hard to answer.
+Nannetti's gone. Mailboat. Near Holyhead by now. Must nail that ad
+of Keyes's. Work Hynes and Crawford. Petticoats for Molly. She has
+something to put in them. What's that? Might be money.
+
+Mr Bloom stooped and turned over a piece of paper on the strand. He
+brought it near his eyes and peered. Letter? No. Can't read. Better go.
+Better. I'm tired to move. Page of an old copybook. All those holes and
+pebbles. Who could count them? Never know what you find. Bottle with
+story of a treasure in it, thrown from a wreck. Parcels post. Children
+always want to throw things in the sea. Trust? Bread cast on the waters.
+What's this? Bit of stick.
+
+O! Exhausted that female has me. Not so young now. Will she come here
+tomorrow? Wait for her somewhere for ever. Must come back. Murderers do.
+Will I?
+
+Mr Bloom with his stick gently vexed the thick sand at his foot. Write a
+message for her. Might remain. What?
+
+I.
+
+Some flatfoot tramp on it in the morning. Useless. Washed away. Tide
+comes here. Saw a pool near her foot. Bend, see my face there, dark
+mirror, breathe on it, stirs. All these rocks with lines and scars and
+letters. O, those transparent! Besides they don't know. What is the
+meaning of that other world. I called you naughty boy because I do not
+like.
+
+AM. A.
+
+No room. Let it go.
+
+Mr Bloom effaced the letters with his slow boot. Hopeless thing sand.
+Nothing grows in it. All fades. No fear of big vessels coming up here.
+Except Guinness's barges. Round the Kish in eighty days. Done half by
+design.
+
+He flung his wooden pen away. The stick fell in silted sand, stuck. Now
+if you were trying to do that for a week on end you couldn't. Chance.
+We'll never meet again. But it was lovely. Goodbye, dear. Thanks. Made
+me feel so young.
+
+Short snooze now if I had. Must be near nine. Liverpool boat long gone..
+Not even the smoke. And she can do the other. Did too. And Belfast. I
+won't go. Race there, race back to Ennis. Let him. Just close my eyes
+a moment. Won't sleep, though. Half dream. It never comes the same. Bat
+again. No harm in him. Just a few.
+
+O sweety all your little girlwhite up I saw dirty bracegirdle made me do
+love sticky we two naughty Grace darling she him half past the bed met
+him pike hoses frillies for Raoul de perfume your wife black hair heave
+under embon _señorita_ young eyes Mulvey plump bubs me breadvan Winkle
+red slippers she rusty sleep wander years of dreams return tail end
+Agendath swoony lovey showed me her next year in drawers return next in
+her next her next.
+
+A bat flew. Here. There. Here. Far in the grey a bell chimed. Mr Bloom
+with open mouth, his left boot sanded sideways, leaned, breathed. Just
+for a few
+
+ _Cuckoo
+ Cuckoo
+ Cuckoo._
+
+The clock on the mantelpiece in the priest's house cooed where Canon
+O'Hanlon and Father Conroy and the reverend John Hughes S. J. were
+taking tea and sodabread and butter and fried mutton chops with catsup
+and talking about
+
+ _Cuckoo
+ Cuckoo
+ Cuckoo._
+
+Because it was a little canarybird that came out of its little house
+to tell the time that Gerty MacDowell noticed the time she was there
+because she was as quick as anything about a thing like that, was Gerty
+MacDowell, and she noticed at once that that foreign gentleman that was
+sitting on the rocks looking was
+
+ _Cuckoo
+ Cuckoo
+ Cuckoo._
+
+
+Deshil Holles Eamus. Deshil Holles Eamus. Deshil Holles Eamus.
+
+Send us bright one, light one, Horhorn, quickening and wombfruit. Send
+us bright one, light one, Horhorn, quickening and wombfruit. Send us
+bright one, light one, Horhorn, quickening and wombfruit.
+
+Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa! Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa! Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa!
+
+Universally that person's acumen is esteemed very little perceptive
+concerning whatsoever matters are being held as most profitably by
+mortals with sapience endowed to be studied who is ignorant of that
+which the most in doctrine erudite and certainly by reason of that in
+them high mind's ornament deserving of veneration constantly maintain
+when by general consent they affirm that other circumstances being
+equal by no exterior splendour is the prosperity of a nation more
+efficaciously asserted than by the measure of how far forward may
+have progressed the tribute of its solicitude for that proliferent
+continuance which of evils the original if it be absent when fortunately
+present constitutes the certain sign of omnipotent nature's incorrupted
+benefaction. For who is there who anything of some significance has
+apprehended but is conscious that that exterior splendour may be the
+surface of a downwardtending lutulent reality or on the contrary anyone
+so is there unilluminated as not to perceive that as no nature's boon
+can contend against the bounty of increase so it behoves every most just
+citizen to become the exhortator and admonisher of his semblables and
+to tremble lest what had in the past been by the nation excellently
+commenced might be in the future not with similar excellence
+accomplished if an inverecund habit shall have gradually traduced
+the honourable by ancestors transmitted customs to that thither of
+profundity that that one was audacious excessively who would have the
+hardihood to rise affirming that no more odious offence can for anyone
+be than to oblivious neglect to consign that evangel simultaneously
+command and promise which on all mortals with prophecy of abundance
+or with diminution's menace that exalted of reiteratedly procreating
+function ever irrevocably enjoined?
+
+It is not why therefore we shall wonder if, as the best historians
+relate, among the Celts, who nothing that was not in its nature
+admirable admired, the art of medicine shall have been highly honoured.
+Not to speak of hostels, leperyards, sweating chambers, plaguegraves,
+their greatest doctors, the O'Shiels, the O'Hickeys, the O'Lees,
+have sedulously set down the divers methods by which the sick and the
+relapsed found again health whether the malady had been the trembling
+withering or loose boyconnell flux. Certainly in every public work which
+in it anything of gravity contains preparation should be with importance
+commensurate and therefore a plan was by them adopted (whether by having
+preconsidered or as the maturation of experience it is difficult in
+being said which the discrepant opinions of subsequent inquirers are not
+up to the present congrued to render manifest) whereby maternity was so
+far from all accident possibility removed that whatever care the patient
+in that all hardest of woman hour chiefly required and not solely
+for the copiously opulent but also for her who not being sufficiently
+moneyed scarcely and often not even scarcely could subsist valiantly and
+for an inconsiderable emolument was provided.
+
+To her nothing already then and thenceforward was anyway able to be
+molestful for this chiefly felt all citizens except with proliferent
+mothers prosperity at all not to can be and as they had received
+eternity gods mortals generation to befit them her beholding, when the
+case was so hoving itself, parturient in vehicle thereward carrying
+desire immense among all one another was impelling on of her to be
+received into that domicile. O thing of prudent nation not merely in
+being seen but also even in being related worthy of being praised that
+they her by anticipation went seeing mother, that she by them suddenly
+to be about to be cherished had been begun she felt!
+
+Before born bliss babe had. Within womb won he worship. Whatever in that
+one case done commodiously done was. A couch by midwives attended with
+wholesome food reposeful, cleanest swaddles as though forthbringing were
+now done and by wise foresight set: but to this no less of what drugs
+there is need and surgical implements which are pertaining to her
+case not omitting aspect of all very distracting spectacles in various
+latitudes by our terrestrial orb offered together with images, divine
+and human, the cogitation of which by sejunct females is to tumescence
+conducive or eases issue in the high sunbright wellbuilt fair home of
+mothers when, ostensibly far gone and reproductitive, it is come by her
+thereto to lie in, her term up.
+
+Some man that wayfaring was stood by housedoor at night's oncoming. Of
+Israel's folk was that man that on earth wandering far had fared. Stark
+ruth of man his errand that him lone led till that house.
+
+Of that house A. Horne is lord. Seventy beds keeps he there teeming
+mothers are wont that they lie for to thole and bring forth bairns hale
+so God's angel to Mary quoth. Watchers tway there walk, white sisters
+in ward sleepless. Smarts they still, sickness soothing: in twelve moons
+thrice an hundred. Truest bedthanes they twain are, for Horne holding
+wariest ward.
+
+In ward wary the watcher hearing come that man mildhearted eft rising
+with swire ywimpled to him her gate wide undid. Lo, levin leaping
+lightens in eyeblink Ireland's westward welkin. Full she drad that
+God the Wreaker all mankind would fordo with water for his evil sins.
+Christ's rood made she on breastbone and him drew that he would rathe
+infare under her thatch. That man her will wotting worthful went in
+Horne's house.
+
+Loth to irk in Horne's hall hat holding the seeker stood. On her stow he
+ere was living with dear wife and lovesome daughter that then over land
+and seafloor nine years had long outwandered. Once her in townhithe
+meeting he to her bow had not doffed. Her to forgive now he craved with
+good ground of her allowed that that of him swiftseen face, hers, so
+young then had looked. Light swift her eyes kindled, bloom of blushes
+his word winning.
+
+As her eyes then ongot his weeds swart therefor sorrow she feared. Glad
+after she was that ere adread was. Her he asked if O'Hare Doctor tidings
+sent from far coast and she with grameful sigh him answered that O'Hare
+Doctor in heaven was. Sad was the man that word to hear that him so
+heavied in bowels ruthful. All she there told him, ruing death for
+friend so young, algate sore unwilling God's rightwiseness to withsay.
+She said that he had a fair sweet death through God His goodness with
+masspriest to be shriven, holy housel and sick men's oil to his limbs.
+The man then right earnest asked the nun of which death the dead man was
+died and the nun answered him and said that he was died in Mona Island
+through bellycrab three year agone come Childermas and she prayed to God
+the Allruthful to have his dear soul in his undeathliness. He heard her
+sad words, in held hat sad staring. So stood they there both awhile in
+wanhope sorrowing one with other.
+
+Therefore, everyman, look to that last end that is thy death and the
+dust that gripeth on every man that is born of woman for as he came
+naked forth from his mother's womb so naked shall he wend him at the
+last for to go as he came.
+
+The man that was come in to the house then spoke to the nursingwoman and
+he asked her how it fared with the woman that lay there in childbed.
+The nursingwoman answered him and said that that woman was in throes
+now full three days and that it would be a hard birth unneth to bear
+but that now in a little it would be. She said thereto that she had
+seen many births of women but never was none so hard as was that woman's
+birth. Then she set it all forth to him for because she knew the man
+that time was had lived nigh that house. The man hearkened to her words
+for he felt with wonder women's woe in the travail that they have of
+motherhood and he wondered to look on her face that was a fair face for
+any man to see but yet was she left after long years a handmaid. Nine
+twelve bloodflows chiding her childless.
+
+And whiles they spake the door of the castle was opened and there nighed
+them a mickle noise as of many that sat there at meat. And there came
+against the place as they stood a young learningknight yclept Dixon. And
+the traveller Leopold was couth to him sithen it had happed that they
+had had ado each with other in the house of misericord where this
+learningknight lay by cause the traveller Leopold came there to be
+healed for he was sore wounded in his breast by a spear wherewith a
+horrible and dreadful dragon was smitten him for which he did do make
+a salve of volatile salt and chrism as much as he might suffice. And he
+said now that he should go in to that castle for to make merry with
+them that were there. And the traveller Leopold said that he should go
+otherwhither for he was a man of cautels and a subtile. Also the lady
+was of his avis and repreved the learningknight though she trowed well
+that the traveller had said thing that was false for his subtility. But
+the learningknight would not hear say nay nor do her mandement ne have
+him in aught contrarious to his list and he said how it was a marvellous
+castle. And the traveller Leopold went into the castle for to rest him
+for a space being sore of limb after many marches environing in divers
+lands and sometime venery.
+
+And in the castle was set a board that was of the birchwood of Finlandy
+and it was upheld by four dwarfmen of that country but they durst not
+move more for enchantment. And on this board were frightful swords and
+knives that are made in a great cavern by swinking demons out of white
+flames that they fix then in the horns of buffalos and stags that there
+abound marvellously. And there were vessels that are wrought by magic of
+Mahound out of seasand and the air by a warlock with his breath that he
+blases in to them like to bubbles. And full fair cheer and rich was on
+the board that no wight could devise a fuller ne richer. And there was
+a vat of silver that was moved by craft to open in the which lay strange
+fishes withouten heads though misbelieving men nie that this be possible
+thing without they see it natheless they are so. And these fishes lie
+in an oily water brought there from Portugal land because of the fatness
+that therein is like to the juices of the olivepress. And also it was
+a marvel to see in that castle how by magic they make a compost out of
+fecund wheatkidneys out of Chaldee that by aid of certain angry spirits
+that they do in to it swells up wondrously like to a vast mountain. And
+they teach the serpents there to entwine themselves up on long sticks
+out of the ground and of the scales of these serpents they brew out a
+brewage like to mead.
+
+And the learning knight let pour for childe Leopold a draught and halp
+thereto the while all they that were there drank every each. And childe
+Leopold did up his beaver for to pleasure him and took apertly somewhat
+in amity for he never drank no manner of mead which he then put by and
+anon full privily he voided the more part in his neighbour glass and
+his neighbour nist not of this wile. And he sat down in that castle with
+them for to rest him there awhile. Thanked be Almighty God.
+
+This meanwhile this good sister stood by the door and begged them at the
+reverence of Jesu our alther liege Lord to leave their wassailing for
+there was above one quick with child, a gentle dame, whose time hied
+fast. Sir Leopold heard on the upfloor cry on high and he wondered what
+cry that it was whether of child or woman and I marvel, said he, that it
+be not come or now. Meseems it dureth overlong. And he was ware and saw
+a franklin that hight Lenehan on that side the table that was older than
+any of the tother and for that they both were knights virtuous in the
+one emprise and eke by cause that he was elder he spoke to him full
+gently. But, said he, or it be long too she will bring forth by God His
+bounty and have joy of her childing for she hath waited marvellous long.
+And the franklin that had drunken said, Expecting each moment to be her
+next. Also he took the cup that stood tofore him for him needed never
+none asking nor desiring of him to drink and, Now drink, said he, fully
+delectably, and he quaffed as far as he might to their both's health for
+he was a passing good man of his lustiness. And sir Leopold that was the
+goodliest guest that ever sat in scholars' hall and that was the meekest
+man and the kindest that ever laid husbandly hand under hen and that was
+the very truest knight of the world one that ever did minion service
+to lady gentle pledged him courtly in the cup. Woman's woe with wonder
+pondering.
+
+Now let us speak of that fellowship that was there to the intent to be
+drunken an they might. There was a sort of scholars along either side
+the board, that is to wit, Dixon yclept junior of saint Mary Merciable's
+with other his fellows Lynch and Madden, scholars of medicine, and the
+franklin that hight Lenehan and one from Alba Longa, one Crotthers, and
+young Stephen that had mien of a frere that was at head of the board
+and Costello that men clepen Punch Costello all long of a mastery of
+him erewhile gested (and of all them, reserved young Stephen, he was the
+most drunken that demanded still of more mead) and beside the meek sir
+Leopold. But on young Malachi they waited for that he promised to have
+come and such as intended to no goodness said how he had broke his avow.
+And sir Leopold sat with them for he bore fast friendship to sir Simon
+and to this his son young Stephen and for that his languor becalmed him
+there after longest wanderings insomuch as they feasted him for that
+time in the honourablest manner. Ruth red him, love led on with will to
+wander, loth to leave.
+
+For they were right witty scholars. And he heard their aresouns each gen
+other as touching birth and righteousness, young Madden maintaining that
+put such case it were hard the wife to die (for so it had fallen out a
+matter of some year agone with a woman of Eblana in Horne's house that
+now was trespassed out of this world and the self night next before her
+death all leeches and pothecaries had taken counsel of her case). And
+they said farther she should live because in the beginning, they said,
+the woman should bring forth in pain and wherefore they that were of
+this imagination affirmed how young Madden had said truth for he had
+conscience to let her die. And not few and of these was young Lynch
+were in doubt that the world was now right evil governed as it was never
+other howbeit the mean people believed it otherwise but the law nor his
+judges did provide no remedy. A redress God grant. This was scant said
+but all cried with one acclaim nay, by our Virgin Mother, the wife
+should live and the babe to die. In colour whereof they waxed hot
+upon that head what with argument and what for their drinking but the
+franklin Lenehan was prompt each when to pour them ale so that at the
+least way mirth might not lack. Then young Madden showed all the whole
+affair and said how that she was dead and how for holy religion sake by
+rede of palmer and bedesman and for a vow he had made to Saint Ultan of
+Arbraccan her goodman husband would not let her death whereby they were
+all wondrous grieved. To whom young Stephen had these words following:
+Murmur, sirs, is eke oft among lay folk. Both babe and parent now
+glorify their Maker, the one in limbo gloom, the other in purgefire.
+But, gramercy, what of those Godpossibled souls that we nightly
+impossibilise, which is the sin against the Holy Ghost, Very God, Lord
+and Giver of Life? For, sirs, he said, our lust is brief. We are means
+to those small creatures within us and nature has other ends than we.
+Then said Dixon junior to Punch Costello wist he what ends. But he had
+overmuch drunken and the best word he could have of him was that he
+would ever dishonest a woman whoso she were or wife or maid or leman if
+it so fortuned him to be delivered of his spleen of lustihead. Whereat
+Crotthers of Alba Longa sang young Malachi's praise of that beast the
+unicorn how once in the millennium he cometh by his horn, the other all
+this while, pricked forward with their jibes wherewith they did malice
+him, witnessing all and several by saint Foutinus his engines that
+he was able to do any manner of thing that lay in man to do. Thereat
+laughed they all right jocundly only young Stephen and sir Leopold which
+never durst laugh too open by reason of a strange humour which he would
+not bewray and also for that he rued for her that bare whoso she might
+be or wheresoever. Then spake young Stephen orgulous of mother Church
+that would cast him out of her bosom, of law of canons, of Lilith,
+patron of abortions, of bigness wrought by wind of seeds of brightness
+or by potency of vampires mouth to mouth or, as Virgilius saith, by the
+influence of the occident or by the reek of moonflower or an she lie
+with a woman which her man has but lain with, _effectu secuto_, or
+peradventure in her bath according to the opinions of Averroes and Moses
+Maimonides. He said also how at the end of the second month a human soul
+was infused and how in all our holy mother foldeth ever souls for God's
+greater glory whereas that earthly mother which was but a dam to bear
+beastly should die by canon for so saith he that holdeth the fisherman's
+seal, even that blessed Peter on which rock was holy church for all ages
+founded. All they bachelors then asked of sir Leopold would he in like
+case so jeopard her person as risk life to save life. A wariness of
+mind he would answer as fitted all and, laying hand to jaw, he said
+dissembling, as his wont was, that as it was informed him, who had ever
+loved the art of physic as might a layman, and agreeing also with his
+experience of so seldomseen an accident it was good for that mother
+Church belike at one blow had birth and death pence and in such sort
+deliverly he scaped their questions. That is truth, pardy, said Dixon,
+and, or I err, a pregnant word. Which hearing young Stephen was a
+marvellous glad man and he averred that he who stealeth from the poor
+lendeth to the Lord for he was of a wild manner when he was drunken and
+that he was now in that taking it appeared eftsoons.
+
+But sir Leopold was passing grave maugre his word by cause he still had
+pity of the terrorcausing shrieking of shrill women in their labour
+and as he was minded of his good lady Marion that had borne him an only
+manchild which on his eleventh day on live had died and no man of art
+could save so dark is destiny. And she was wondrous stricken of heart
+for that evil hap and for his burial did him on a fair corselet of
+lamb's wool, the flower of the flock, lest he might perish utterly and
+lie akeled (for it was then about the midst of the winter) and now Sir
+Leopold that had of his body no manchild for an heir looked upon him his
+friend's son and was shut up in sorrow for his forepassed happiness and
+as sad as he was that him failed a son of such gentle courage (for all
+accounted him of real parts) so grieved he also in no less measure
+for young Stephen for that he lived riotously with those wastrels and
+murdered his goods with whores.
+
+About that present time young Stephen filled all cups that stood empty
+so as there remained but little mo if the prudenter had not shadowed
+their approach from him that still plied it very busily who, praying for
+the intentions of the sovereign pontiff, he gave them for a pledge the
+vicar of Christ which also as he said is vicar of Bray. Now drink we,
+quod he, of this mazer and quaff ye this mead which is not indeed parcel
+of my body but my soul's bodiment. Leave ye fraction of bread to them
+that live by bread alone. Be not afeard neither for any want for this
+will comfort more than the other will dismay. See ye here. And he showed
+them glistering coins of the tribute and goldsmith notes the worth of
+two pound nineteen shilling that he had, he said, for a song which he
+writ. They all admired to see the foresaid riches in such dearth of
+money as was herebefore. His words were then these as followeth: Know
+all men, he said, time's ruins build eternity's mansions. What means
+this? Desire's wind blasts the thorntree but after it becomes from a
+bramblebush to be a rose upon the rood of time. Mark me now. In woman's
+womb word is made flesh but in the spirit of the maker all flesh
+that passes becomes the word that shall not pass away. This is the
+postcreation. _Omnis caro ad te veniet_. No question but her name is
+puissant who aventried the dear corse of our Agenbuyer, Healer and Herd,
+our mighty mother and mother most venerable and Bernardus saith aptly
+that She hath an _omnipotentiam deiparae supplicem_, that is to wit, an
+almightiness of petition because she is the second Eve and she won
+us, saith Augustine too, whereas that other, our grandam, which we are
+linked up with by successive anastomosis of navelcords sold us all,
+seed, breed and generation, for a penny pippin. But here is the matter
+now. Or she knew him, that second I say, and was but creature of her
+creature, _vergine madre, figlia di tuo figlio_, or she knew him not and
+then stands she in the one denial or ignorancy with Peter Piscator who
+lives in the house that Jack built and with Joseph the joiner patron of
+the happy demise of all unhappy marriages, _parceque M. Léo Taxil nous
+a dit que qui l'avait mise dans cette fichue position c'était le
+sacre pigeon, ventre de Dieu! Entweder_ transubstantiality ODER
+consubstantiality but in no case subsubstantiality. And all cried out
+upon it for a very scurvy word. A pregnancy without joy, he said, a
+birth without pangs, a body without blemish, a belly without bigness.
+Let the lewd with faith and fervour worship. With will will we
+withstand, withsay.
+
+Hereupon Punch Costello dinged with his fist upon the board and would
+sing a bawdy catch _Staboo Stabella_ about a wench that was put in pod
+of a jolly swashbuckler in Almany which he did straightways now attack:
+_The first three months she was not well, Staboo,_ when here nurse
+Quigley from the door angerly bid them hist ye should shame you nor
+was it not meet as she remembered them being her mind was to have all
+orderly against lord Andrew came for because she was jealous that
+no gasteful turmoil might shorten the honour of her guard. It was an
+ancient and a sad matron of a sedate look and christian walking,
+in habit dun beseeming her megrims and wrinkled visage, nor did her
+hortative want of it effect for incontinently Punch Costello was of them
+all embraided and they reclaimed the churl with civil rudeness some and
+shaked him with menace of blandishments others whiles they all chode
+with him, a murrain seize the dolt, what a devil he would be at, thou
+chuff, thou puny, thou got in peasestraw, thou losel, thou chitterling,
+thou spawn of a rebel, thou dykedropt, thou abortion thou, to shut up
+his drunken drool out of that like a curse of God ape, the good sir
+Leopold that had for his cognisance the flower of quiet, margerain
+gentle, advising also the time's occasion as most sacred and most worthy
+to be most sacred. In Horne's house rest should reign.
+
+To be short this passage was scarce by when Master Dixon of Mary in
+Eccles, goodly grinning, asked young Stephen what was the reason why he
+had not cided to take friar's vows and he answered him obedience in the
+womb, chastity in the tomb but involuntary poverty all his days. Master
+Lenehan at this made return that he had heard of those nefarious deeds
+and how, as he heard hereof counted, he had besmirched the lily virtue
+of a confiding female which was corruption of minors and they all
+intershowed it too, waxing merry and toasting to his fathership. But he
+said very entirely it was clean contrary to their suppose for he was
+the eternal son and ever virgin. Thereat mirth grew in them the more and
+they rehearsed to him his curious rite of wedlock for the disrobing and
+deflowering of spouses, as the priests use in Madagascar island, she
+to be in guise of white and saffron, her groom in white and grain, with
+burning of nard and tapers, on a bridebed while clerks sung kyries and
+the anthem _Ut novetur sexus omnis corporis mysterium_ till she was
+there unmaided. He gave them then a much admirable hymen minim by those
+delicate poets Master John Fletcher and Master Francis Beaumont that is
+in their _Maid's Tragedy_ that was writ for a like twining of lovers:
+_To bed, to bed_ was the burden of it to be played with accompanable
+concent upon the virginals. An exquisite dulcet epithalame of most
+mollificative suadency for juveniles amatory whom the odoriferous
+flambeaus of the paranymphs have escorted to the quadrupedal proscenium
+of connubial communion. Well met they were, said Master Dixon, joyed,
+but, harkee, young sir, better were they named Beau Mount and Lecher
+for, by my troth, of such a mingling much might come. Young Stephen said
+indeed to his best remembrance they had but the one doxy between them
+and she of the stews to make shift with in delights amorous for life ran
+very high in those days and the custom of the country approved with it.
+Greater love than this, he said, no man hath that a man lay down his
+wife for his friend. Go thou and do likewise. Thus, or words to that
+effect, saith Zarathustra, sometime regius professor of French letters
+to the university of Oxtail nor breathed there ever that man to whom
+mankind was more beholden. Bring a stranger within thy tower it will
+go hard but thou wilt have the secondbest bed. _Orate, fratres, pro
+memetipso_. And all the people shall say, Amen. Remember, Erin, thy
+generations and thy days of old, how thou settedst little by me and by
+my word and broughtedst in a stranger to my gates to commit fornication
+in my sight and to wax fat and kick like Jeshurum. Therefore hast thou
+sinned against my light and hast made me, thy lord, to be the slave of
+servants. Return, return, Clan Milly: forget me not, O Milesian. Why
+hast thou done this abomination before me that thou didst spurn me for
+a merchant of jalaps and didst deny me to the Roman and to the Indian of
+dark speech with whom thy daughters did lie luxuriously? Look forth now,
+my people, upon the land of behest, even from Horeb and from Nebo and
+from Pisgah and from the Horns of Hatten unto a land flowing with milk
+and money. But thou hast suckled me with a bitter milk: my moon and my
+sun thou hast quenched for ever. And thou hast left me alone for ever
+in the dark ways of my bitterness: and with a kiss of ashes hast thou
+kissed my mouth. This tenebrosity of the interior, he proceeded to say,
+hath not been illumined by the wit of the septuagint nor so much as
+mentioned for the Orient from on high Which brake hell's gates visited a
+darkness that was foraneous. Assuefaction minorates atrocities (as Tully
+saith of his darling Stoics) and Hamlet his father showeth the prince no
+blister of combustion. The adiaphane in the noon of life is an Egypt's
+plague which in the nights of prenativity and postmortemity is their
+most proper _ubi_ and _quomodo_. And as the ends and ultimates of
+all things accord in some mean and measure with their inceptions and
+originals, that same multiplicit concordance which leads forth growth
+from birth accomplishing by a retrogressive metamorphosis that minishing
+and ablation towards the final which is agreeable unto nature so is it
+with our subsolar being. The aged sisters draw us into life: we wail,
+batten, sport, clip, clasp, sunder, dwindle, die: over us dead they
+bend. First, saved from waters of old Nile, among bulrushes, a bed
+of fasciated wattles: at last the cavity of a mountain, an occulted
+sepulchre amid the conclamation of the hillcat and the ossifrage. And as
+no man knows the ubicity of his tumulus nor to what processes we shall
+thereby be ushered nor whether to Tophet or to Edenville in the like way
+is all hidden when we would backward see from what region of remoteness
+the whatness of our whoness hath fetched his whenceness.
+
+Thereto Punch Costello roared out mainly _Etienne chanson_ but he loudly
+bid them, lo, wisdom hath built herself a house, this vast majestic
+longstablished vault, the crystal palace of the Creator, all in applepie
+order, a penny for him who finds the pea.
+
+ _Behold the mansion reared by dedal Jack
+ See the malt stored in many a refluent sack,
+ In the proud cirque of Jackjohn's bivouac._
+
+A black crack of noise in the street here, alack, bawled back. Loud on
+left Thor thundered: in anger awful the hammerhurler. Came now the storm
+that hist his heart. And Master Lynch bade him have a care to flout and
+witwanton as the god self was angered for his hellprate and paganry. And
+he that had erst challenged to be so doughty waxed wan as they might all
+mark and shrank together and his pitch that was before so haught uplift
+was now of a sudden quite plucked down and his heart shook within the
+cage of his breast as he tasted the rumour of that storm. Then did some
+mock and some jeer and Punch Costello fell hard again to his yale which
+Master Lenehan vowed he would do after and he was indeed but a word and
+a blow on any the least colour. But the braggart boaster cried that an
+old Nobodaddy was in his cups it was muchwhat indifferent and he would
+not lag behind his lead. But this was only to dye his desperation as
+cowed he crouched in Horne's hall. He drank indeed at one draught to
+pluck up a heart of any grace for it thundered long rumblingly over all
+the heavens so that Master Madden, being godly certain whiles, knocked
+him on his ribs upon that crack of doom and Master Bloom, at the
+braggart's side, spoke to him calming words to slumber his great fear,
+advertising how it was no other thing but a hubbub noise that he heard,
+the discharge of fluid from the thunderhead, look you, having taken
+place, and all of the order of a natural phenomenon.
+
+But was young Boasthard's fear vanquished by Calmer's words? No, for he
+had in his bosom a spike named Bitterness which could not by words be
+done away. And was he then neither calm like the one nor godly like the
+other? He was neither as much as he would have liked to be either. But
+could he not have endeavoured to have found again as in his youth the
+bottle Holiness that then he lived withal? Indeed no for Grace was not
+there to find that bottle. Heard he then in that clap the voice of the
+god Bringforth or, what Calmer said, a hubbub of Phenomenon? Heard?
+Why, he could not but hear unless he had plugged him up the tube
+Understanding (which he had not done). For through that tube he saw that
+he was in the land of Phenomenon where he must for a certain one day die
+as he was like the rest too a passing show. And would he not accept to
+die like the rest and pass away? By no means would he though he must nor
+would he make more shows according as men do with wives which Phenomenon
+has commanded them to do by the book Law. Then wotted he nought of that
+other land which is called Believe-on-Me, that is the land of promise
+which behoves to the king Delightful and shall be for ever where there
+is no death and no birth neither wiving nor mothering at which all shall
+come as many as believe on it? Yes, Pious had told him of that land and
+Chaste had pointed him to the way but the reason was that in the way he
+fell in with a certain whore of an eyepleasing exterior whose name, she
+said, is Bird-in-the-Hand and she beguiled him wrongways from the true
+path by her flatteries that she said to him as, Ho, you pretty man, turn
+aside hither and I will show you a brave place, and she lay at him so
+flatteringly that she had him in her grot which is named Two-in-the-Bush
+or, by some learned, Carnal Concupiscence.
+
+This was it what all that company that sat there at commons in Manse
+of Mothers the most lusted after and if they met with this whore
+Bird-in-the-Hand (which was within all foul plagues, monsters and a
+wicked devil) they would strain the last but they would make at her and
+know her. For regarding Believe-on-Me they said it was nought else
+but notion and they could conceive no thought of it for, first,
+Two-in-the-Bush whither she ticed them was the very goodliest grot and
+in it were four pillows on which were four tickets with these words
+printed on them, Pickaback and Topsyturvy and Shameface and Cheek by
+Jowl and, second, for that foul plague Allpox and the monsters they
+cared not for them for Preservative had given them a stout shield of
+oxengut and, third, that they might take no hurt neither from Offspring
+that was that wicked devil by virtue of this same shield which was
+named Killchild. So were they all in their blind fancy, Mr Cavil and Mr
+Sometimes Godly, Mr Ape Swillale, Mr False Franklin, Mr Dainty Dixon,
+Young Boasthard and Mr Cautious Calmer. Wherein, O wretched company,
+were ye all deceived for that was the voice of the god that was in a
+very grievous rage that he would presently lift his arm up and
+spill their souls for their abuses and their spillings done by them
+contrariwise to his word which forth to bring brenningly biddeth.
+
+So Thursday sixteenth June Patk. Dignam laid in clay of an apoplexy and
+after hard drought, please God, rained, a bargeman coming in by water a
+fifty mile or thereabout with turf saying the seed won't sprout, fields
+athirst, very sadcoloured and stunk mightily, the quags and tofts too.
+Hard to breathe and all the young quicks clean consumed without sprinkle
+this long while back as no man remembered to be without. The rosy buds
+all gone brown and spread out blobs and on the hills nought but dry flag
+and faggots that would catch at first fire. All the world saying, for
+aught they knew, the big wind of last February a year that did havoc the
+land so pitifully a small thing beside this barrenness. But by and
+by, as said, this evening after sundown, the wind sitting in the
+west, biggish swollen clouds to be seen as the night increased and the
+weatherwise poring up at them and some sheet lightnings at first and
+after, past ten of the clock, one great stroke with a long thunder and
+in a brace of shakes all scamper pellmell within door for the smoking
+shower, the men making shelter for their straws with a clout or
+kerchief, womenfolk skipping off with kirtles catched up soon as the
+pour came. In Ely place, Baggot street, Duke's lawn, thence through
+Merrion green up to Holles street a swash of water flowing that was
+before bonedry and not one chair or coach or fiacre seen about but
+no more crack after that first. Over against the Rt. Hon. Mr Justice
+Fitzgibbon's door (that is to sit with Mr Healy the lawyer upon the
+college lands) Mal. Mulligan a gentleman's gentleman that had but come
+from Mr Moore's the writer's (that was a papish but is now, folk say,
+a good Williamite) chanced against Alec. Bannon in a cut bob (which are
+now in with dance cloaks of Kendal green) that was new got to town from
+Mullingar with the stage where his coz and Mal M's brother will stay a
+month yet till Saint Swithin and asks what in the earth he does there,
+he bound home and he to Andrew Horne's being stayed for to crush a cup
+of wine, so he said, but would tell him of a skittish heifer, big of
+her age and beef to the heel, and all this while poured with rain and
+so both together on to Horne's. There Leop. Bloom of Crawford's journal
+sitting snug with a covey of wags, likely brangling fellows, Dixon jun.,
+scholar of my lady of Mercy's, Vin. Lynch, a Scots fellow, Will. Madden,
+T. Lenehan, very sad about a racer he fancied and Stephen D. Leop. Bloom
+there for a languor he had but was now better, be having dreamed tonight
+a strange fancy of his dame Mrs Moll with red slippers on in a pair of
+Turkey trunks which is thought by those in ken to be for a change and
+Mistress Purefoy there, that got in through pleading her belly, and now
+on the stools, poor body, two days past her term, the midwives sore put
+to it and can't deliver, she queasy for a bowl of riceslop that is a
+shrewd drier up of the insides and her breath very heavy more than good
+and should be a bullyboy from the knocks, they say, but God give her
+soon issue. 'Tis her ninth chick to live, I hear, and Lady day bit off
+her last chick's nails that was then a twelvemonth and with other three
+all breastfed that died written out in a fair hand in the king's bible.
+Her hub fifty odd and a methodist but takes the sacrament and is to
+be seen any fair sabbath with a pair of his boys off Bullock harbour
+dapping on the sound with a heavybraked reel or in a punt he has
+trailing for flounder and pollock and catches a fine bag, I hear. In sum
+an infinite great fall of rain and all refreshed and will much increase
+the harvest yet those in ken say after wind and water fire shall come
+for a prognostication of Malachi's almanac (and I hear that Mr Russell
+has done a prophetical charm of the same gist out of the Hindustanish
+for his farmer's gazette) to have three things in all but this a mere
+fetch without bottom of reason for old crones and bairns yet sometimes
+they are found in the right guess with their queerities no telling how.
+
+With this came up Lenehan to the feet of the table to say how the letter
+was in that night's gazette and he made a show to find it about him
+(for he swore with an oath that he had been at pains about it) but on
+Stephen's persuasion he gave over the search and was bidden to sit near
+by which he did mighty brisk. He was a kind of sport gentleman that
+went for a merryandrew or honest pickle and what belonged of women,
+horseflesh or hot scandal he had it pat. To tell the truth he was mean
+in fortunes and for the most part hankered about the coffeehouses
+and low taverns with crimps, ostlers, bookies, Paul's men, runners,
+flatcaps, waistcoateers, ladies of the bagnio and other rogues of the
+game or with a chanceable catchpole or a tipstaff often at nights
+till broad day of whom he picked up between his sackpossets much loose
+gossip. He took his ordinary at a boilingcook's and if he had but gotten
+into him a mess of broken victuals or a platter of tripes with a bare
+tester in his purse he could always bring himself off with his tongue,
+some randy quip he had from a punk or whatnot that every mother's son of
+them would burst their sides. The other, Costello that is, hearing this
+talk asked was it poetry or a tale. Faith, no, he says, Frank (that was
+his name), 'tis all about Kerry cows that are to be butchered along of
+the plague. But they can go hang, says he with a wink, for me with their
+bully beef, a pox on it. There's as good fish in this tin as ever came
+out of it and very friendly he offered to take of some salty sprats that
+stood by which he had eyed wishly in the meantime and found the place
+which was indeed the chief design of his embassy as he was sharpset.
+_Mort aux vaches_, says Frank then in the French language that had been
+indentured to a brandyshipper that has a winelodge in Bordeaux and he
+spoke French like a gentleman too. From a child this Frank had been
+a donought that his father, a headborough, who could ill keep him to
+school to learn his letters and the use of the globes, matriculated at
+the university to study the mechanics but he took the bit between his
+teeth like a raw colt and was more familiar with the justiciary and the
+parish beadle than with his volumes. One time he would be a playactor,
+then a sutler or a welsher, then nought would keep him from the bearpit
+and the cocking main, then he was for the ocean sea or to hoof it on
+the roads with the romany folk, kidnapping a squire's heir by favour of
+moonlight or fecking maids' linen or choking chicken behind a hedge. He
+had been off as many times as a cat has lives and back again with naked
+pockets as many more to his father the headborough who shed a pint
+of tears as often as he saw him. What, says Mr Leopold with his hands
+across, that was earnest to know the drift of it, will they slaughter
+all? I protest I saw them but this day morning going to the Liverpool
+boats, says he. I can scarce believe 'tis so bad, says he. And he had
+experience of the like brood beasts and of springers, greasy hoggets and
+wether wool, having been some years before actuary for Mr Joseph Cuffe,
+a worthy salesmaster that drove his trade for live stock and meadow
+auctions hard by Mr Gavin Low's yard in Prussia street. I question with
+you there, says he. More like 'tis the hoose or the timber tongue. Mr
+Stephen, a little moved but very handsomely told him no such matter and
+that he had dispatches from the emperor's chief tailtickler thanking
+him for the hospitality, that was sending over Doctor Rinderpest, the
+bestquoted cowcatcher in all Muscovy, with a bolus or two of physic to
+take the bull by the horns. Come, come, says Mr Vincent, plain dealing.
+He'll find himself on the horns of a dilemma if he meddles with a
+bull that's Irish, says he. Irish by name and irish by nature, says Mr
+Stephen, and he sent the ale purling about, an Irish bull in an English
+chinashop. I conceive you, says Mr Dixon. It is that same bull that was
+sent to our island by farmer Nicholas, the bravest cattlebreeder of them
+all, with an emerald ring in his nose. True for you, says Mr Vincent
+cross the table, and a bullseye into the bargain, says he, and a plumper
+and a portlier bull, says he, never shit on shamrock. He had horns
+galore, a coat of cloth of gold and a sweet smoky breath coming out of
+his nostrils so that the women of our island, leaving doughballs and
+rollingpins, followed after him hanging his bulliness in daisychains.
+What for that, says Mr Dixon, but before he came over farmer Nicholas
+that was a eunuch had him properly gelded by a college of doctors who
+were no better off than himself. So be off now, says he, and do all my
+cousin german the lord Harry tells you and take a farmer's blessing, and
+with that he slapped his posteriors very soundly. But the slap and the
+blessing stood him friend, says Mr Vincent, for to make up he taught him
+a trick worth two of the other so that maid, wife, abbess and widow to
+this day affirm that they would rather any time of the month whisper
+in his ear in the dark of a cowhouse or get a lick on the nape from his
+long holy tongue than lie with the finest strapping young ravisher in
+the four fields of all Ireland. Another then put in his word: And they
+dressed him, says he, in a point shift and petticoat with a tippet and
+girdle and ruffles on his wrists and clipped his forelock and rubbed him
+all over with spermacetic oil and built stables for him at every turn of
+the road with a gold manger in each full of the best hay in the market
+so that he could doss and dung to his heart's content. By this time the
+father of the faithful (for so they called him) was grown so heavy that
+he could scarce walk to pasture. To remedy which our cozening dames and
+damsels brought him his fodder in their apronlaps and as soon as his
+belly was full he would rear up on his hind uarters to show their
+ladyships a mystery and roar and bellow out of him in bulls' language
+and they all after him. Ay, says another, and so pampered was he that he
+would suffer nought to grow in all the land but green grass for himself
+(for that was the only colour to his mind) and there was a board put up
+on a hillock in the middle of the island with a printed notice, saying:
+By the Lord Harry, Green is the grass that grows on the ground. And,
+says Mr Dixon, if ever he got scent of a cattleraider in Roscommon or
+the wilds of Connemara or a husbandman in Sligo that was sowing as much
+as a handful of mustard or a bag of rapeseed out he'd run amok over half
+the countryside rooting up with his horns whatever was planted and all
+by lord Harry's orders. There was bad blood between them at first, says
+Mr Vincent, and the lord Harry called farmer Nicholas all the old Nicks
+in the world and an old whoremaster that kept seven trulls in his house
+and I'll meddle in his matters, says he. I'll make that animal smell
+hell, says he, with the help of that good pizzle my father left me. But
+one evening, says Mr Dixon, when the lord Harry was cleaning his royal
+pelt to go to dinner after winning a boatrace (he had spade oars for
+himself but the first rule of the course was that the others were to row
+with pitchforks) he discovered in himself a wonderful likeness to a bull
+and on picking up a blackthumbed chapbook that he kept in the pantry
+he found sure enough that he was a lefthanded descendant of the famous
+champion bull of the Romans, _Bos Bovum_, which is good bog Latin for
+boss of the show. After that, says Mr Vincent, the lord Harry put his
+head into a cow's drinkingtrough in the presence of all his courtiers
+and pulling it out again told them all his new name. Then, with the
+water running off him, he got into an old smock and skirt that had
+belonged to his grandmother and bought a grammar of the bulls' language
+to study but he could never learn a word of it except the first personal
+pronoun which he copied out big and got off by heart and if ever he went
+out for a walk he filled his pockets with chalk to write it upon what
+took his fancy, the side of a rock or a teahouse table or a bale of
+cotton or a corkfloat. In short, he and the bull of Ireland were soon as
+fast friends as an arse and a shirt. They were, says Mr Stephen, and
+the end was that the men of the island seeing no help was toward, as
+the ungrate women were all of one mind, made a wherry raft, loaded
+themselves and their bundles of chattels on shipboard, set all masts
+erect, manned the yards, sprang their luff, heaved to, spread three
+sheets in the wind, put her head between wind and water, weighed anchor,
+ported her helm, ran up the jolly Roger, gave three times three, let the
+bullgine run, pushed off in their bumboat and put to sea to recover
+the main of America. Which was the occasion, says Mr Vincent, of the
+composing by a boatswain of that rollicking chanty:
+
+ _--Pope Peter's but a pissabed.
+ A man's a man for a' that._
+
+Our worthy acquaintance Mr Malachi Mulligan now appeared in the doorway
+as the students were finishing their apologue accompanied with a friend
+whom he had just rencountered, a young gentleman, his name Alec Bannon,
+who had late come to town, it being his intention to buy a colour or a
+cornetcy in the fencibles and list for the wars. Mr Mulligan was civil
+enough to express some relish of it all the more as it jumped with a
+project of his own for the cure of the very evil that had been touched
+on. Whereat he handed round to the company a set of pasteboard cards
+which he had had printed that day at Mr Quinnell's bearing a legend
+printed in fair italics: _Mr Malachi Mulligan. Fertiliser and Incubator.
+Lambay Island_. His project, as he went on to expound, was to withdraw
+from the round of idle pleasures such as form the chief business of sir
+Fopling Popinjay and sir Milksop Quidnunc in town and to devote himself
+to the noblest task for which our bodily organism has been framed. Well,
+let us hear of it, good my friend, said Mr Dixon. I make no doubt it
+smacks of wenching. Come, be seated, both. 'Tis as cheap sitting as
+standing. Mr Mulligan accepted of the invitation and, expatiating upon
+his design, told his hearers that he had been led into this thought by
+a consideration of the causes of sterility, both the inhibitory and the
+prohibitory, whether the inhibition in its turn were due to conjugal
+vexations or to a parsimony of the balance as well as whether the
+prohibition proceeded from defects congenital or from proclivities
+acquired. It grieved him plaguily, he said, to see the nuptial couch
+defrauded of its dearest pledges: and to reflect upon so many agreeable
+females with rich jointures, a prey to the vilest bonzes, who hide their
+flambeau under a bushel in an uncongenial cloister or lose their womanly
+bloom in the embraces of some unaccountable muskin when they might
+multiply the inlets of happiness, sacrificing the inestimable jewel of
+their sex when a hundred pretty fellows were at hand to caress, this, he
+assured them, made his heart weep. To curb this inconvenient (which
+he concluded due to a suppression of latent heat), having advised with
+certain counsellors of worth and inspected into this matter, he had
+resolved to purchase in fee simple for ever the freehold of Lambay
+island from its holder, lord Talbot de Malahide, a Tory gentleman of
+note much in favour with our ascendancy party. He proposed to set up
+there a national fertilising farm to be named _Omphalos_ with an obelisk
+hewn and erected after the fashion of Egypt and to offer his dutiful
+yeoman services for the fecundation of any female of what grade of life
+soever who should there direct to him with the desire of fulfilling the
+functions of her natural. Money was no object, he said, nor would he
+take a penny for his pains. The poorest kitchenwench no less than the
+opulent lady of fashion, if so be their constructions and their tempers
+were warm persuaders for their petitions, would find in him their man.
+For his nutriment he shewed how he would feed himself exclusively upon a
+diet of savoury tubercles and fish and coneys there, the flesh of these
+latter prolific rodents being highly recommended for his purpose, both
+broiled and stewed with a blade of mace and a pod or two of capsicum
+chillies. After this homily which he delivered with much warmth of
+asseveration Mr Mulligan in a trice put off from his hat a kerchief with
+which he had shielded it. They both, it seems, had been overtaken by the
+rain and for all their mending their pace had taken water, as might be
+observed by Mr Mulligan's smallclothes of a hodden grey which was now
+somewhat piebald. His project meanwhile was very favourably entertained
+by his auditors and won hearty eulogies from all though Mr Dixon of
+Mary's excepted to it, asking with a finicking air did he purpose also
+to carry coals to Newcastle. Mr Mulligan however made court to the
+scholarly by an apt quotation from the classics which, as it dwelt
+upon his memory, seemed to him a sound and tasteful support of his
+contention: _Talis ac tanta depravatio hujus seculi, O quirites,
+ut matresfamiliarum nostrae lascivas cujuslibet semiviri libici
+titillationes testibus ponderosis atque excelsis erectionibus
+centurionum Romanorum magnopere anteponunt_, while for those of ruder
+wit he drove home his point by analogies of the animal kingdom more
+suitable to their stomach, the buck and doe of the forest glade, the
+farmyard drake and duck.
+
+Valuing himself not a little upon his elegance, being indeed a proper
+man of person, this talkative now applied himself to his dress with
+animadversions of some heat upon the sudden whimsy of the atmospherics
+while the company lavished their encomiums upon the project he had
+advanced. The young gentleman, his friend, overjoyed as he was at a
+passage that had late befallen him, could not forbear to tell it his
+nearest neighbour. Mr Mulligan, now perceiving the table, asked for whom
+were those loaves and fishes and, seeing the stranger, he made him
+a civil bow and said, Pray, sir, was you in need of any professional
+assistance we could give? Who, upon his offer, thanked him very
+heartily, though preserving his proper distance, and replied that he was
+come there about a lady, now an inmate of Horne's house, that was in an
+interesting condition, poor body, from woman's woe (and here he fetched
+a deep sigh) to know if her happiness had yet taken place. Mr Dixon,
+to turn the table, took on to ask of Mr Mulligan himself whether
+his incipient ventripotence, upon which he rallied him, betokened an
+ovoblastic gestation in the prostatic utricle or male womb or was due,
+as with the noted physician, Mr Austin Meldon, to a wolf in the stomach.
+For answer Mr Mulligan, in a gale of laughter at his smalls, smote
+himself bravely below the diaphragm, exclaiming with an admirable droll
+mimic of Mother Grogan (the most excellent creature of her sex though
+'tis pity she's a trollop): There's a belly that never bore a bastard.
+This was so happy a conceit that it renewed the storm of mirth and threw
+the whole room into the most violent agitations of delight. The spry
+rattle had run on in the same vein of mimicry but for some larum in the
+antechamber.
+
+Here the listener who was none other than the Scotch student, a little
+fume of a fellow, blond as tow, congratulated in the liveliest fashion
+with the young gentleman and, interrupting the narrative at a salient
+point, having desired his visavis with a polite beck to have the
+obligingness to pass him a flagon of cordial waters at the same time by
+a questioning poise of the head (a whole century of polite breeding had
+not achieved so nice a gesture) to which was united an equivalent but
+contrary balance of the bottle asked the narrator as plainly as was ever
+done in words if he might treat him with a cup of it. _Mais bien sûr_,
+noble stranger, said he cheerily, _et mille compliments_. That you may
+and very opportunely. There wanted nothing but this cup to crown my
+felicity. But, gracious heaven, was I left with but a crust in my wallet
+and a cupful of water from the well, my God, I would accept of them and
+find it in my heart to kneel down upon the ground and give thanks to
+the powers above for the happiness vouchsafed me by the Giver of good
+things. With these words he approached the goblet to his lips, took a
+complacent draught of the cordial, slicked his hair and, opening his
+bosom, out popped a locket that hung from a silk riband, that very
+picture which he had cherished ever since her hand had wrote therein.
+Gazing upon those features with a world of tenderness, Ah, Monsieur, he
+said, had you but beheld her as I did with these eyes at that affecting
+instant with her dainty tucker and her new coquette cap (a gift for her
+feastday as she told me prettily) in such an artless disorder, of so
+melting a tenderness, 'pon my conscience, even you, Monsieur, had been
+impelled by generous nature to deliver yourself wholly into the hands of
+such an enemy or to quit the field for ever. I declare, I was never so
+touched in all my life. God, I thank thee, as the Author of my days!
+Thrice happy will he be whom so amiable a creature will bless with her
+favours. A sigh of affection gave eloquence to these words and, having
+replaced the locket in his bosom, he wiped his eye and sighed again.
+Beneficent Disseminator of blessings to all Thy creatures, how great
+and universal must be that sweetest of Thy tyrannies which can hold in
+thrall the free and the bond, the simple swain and the polished coxcomb,
+the lover in the heyday of reckless passion and the husband of maturer
+years. But indeed, sir, I wander from the point. How mingled and
+imperfect are all our sublunary joys. Maledicity! he exclaimed in
+anguish. Would to God that foresight had but remembered me to take my
+cloak along! I could weep to think of it. Then, though it had poured
+seven showers, we were neither of us a penny the worse. But beshrew me,
+he cried, clapping hand to his forehead, tomorrow will be a new day and,
+thousand thunders, I know of a _marchand de capotes_, Monsieur Poyntz,
+from whom I can have for a livre as snug a cloak of the French fashion
+as ever kept a lady from wetting. Tut, tut! cries Le Fecondateur,
+tripping in, my friend Monsieur Moore, that most accomplished traveller
+(I have just cracked a half bottle AVEC LUI in a circle of the best wits
+of the town), is my authority that in Cape Horn, _ventre biche_, they
+have a rain that will wet through any, even the stoutest cloak. A
+drenching of that violence, he tells me, _sans blague_, has sent more
+than one luckless fellow in good earnest posthaste to another world.
+Pooh! A _livre!_ cries Monsieur Lynch. The clumsy things are dear at a
+sou. One umbrella, were it no bigger than a fairy mushroom, is worth ten
+such stopgaps. No woman of any wit would wear one. My dear Kitty told me
+today that she would dance in a deluge before ever she would starve in
+such an ark of salvation for, as she reminded me (blushing piquantly and
+whispering in my ear though there was none to snap her words but giddy
+butterflies), dame Nature, by the divine blessing, has implanted it in
+our hearts and it has become a household word that _il y a deux choses_
+for which the innocence of our original garb, in other circumstances a
+breach of the proprieties, is the fittest, nay, the only garment. The
+first, said she (and here my pretty philosopher, as I handed her to her
+tilbury, to fix my attention, gently tipped with her tongue the outer
+chamber of my ear), the first is a bath... But at this point a bell
+tinkling in the hall cut short a discourse which promised so bravely for
+the enrichment of our store of knowledge.
+
+Amid the general vacant hilarity of the assembly a bell rang and, while
+all were conjecturing what might be the cause, Miss Callan entered and,
+having spoken a few words in a low tone to young Mr Dixon, retired with
+a profound bow to the company. The presence even for a moment among a
+party of debauchees of a woman endued with every quality of modesty and
+not less severe than beautiful refrained the humourous sallies even of
+the most licentious but her departure was the signal for an outbreak of
+ribaldry. Strike me silly, said Costello, a low fellow who was fuddled.
+A monstrous fine bit of cowflesh! I'll be sworn she has rendezvoused
+you. What, you dog? Have you a way with them? Gad's bud, immensely
+so, said Mr Lynch. The bedside manner it is that they use in the Mater
+hospice. Demme, does not Doctor O'Gargle chuck the nuns there under the
+chin. As I look to be saved I had it from my Kitty who has been wardmaid
+there any time these seven months. Lawksamercy, doctor, cried the young
+blood in the primrose vest, feigning a womanish simper and with immodest
+squirmings of his body, how you do tease a body! Drat the man! Bless
+me, I'm all of a wibbly wobbly. Why, you're as bad as dear little Father
+Cantekissem, that you are! May this pot of four half choke me, cried
+Costello, if she aint in the family way. I knows a lady what's got a
+white swelling quick as I claps eyes on her. The young surgeon, however,
+rose and begged the company to excuse his retreat as the nurse had just
+then informed him that he was needed in the ward. Merciful providence
+had been pleased to put a period to the sufferings of the lady who was
+_enceinte_ which she had borne with a laudable fortitude and she had
+given birth to a bouncing boy. I want patience, said he, with those
+who, without wit to enliven or learning to instruct, revile an ennobling
+profession which, saving the reverence due to the Deity, is the greatest
+power for happiness upon the earth. I am positive when I say that if
+need were I could produce a cloud of witnesses to the excellence of
+her noble exercitations which, so far from being a byword, should be a
+glorious incentive in the human breast. I cannot away with them. What?
+Malign such an one, the amiable Miss Callan, who is the lustre of
+her own sex and the astonishment of ours? And at an instant the most
+momentous that can befall a puny child of clay? Perish the thought! I
+shudder to think of the future of a race where the seeds of such malice
+have been sown and where no right reverence is rendered to mother and
+maid in house of Horne. Having delivered himself of this rebuke he
+saluted those present on the by and repaired to the door. A murmur
+of approval arose from all and some were for ejecting the low soaker
+without more ado, a design which would have been effected nor would
+he have received more than his bare deserts had he not abridged his
+transgression by affirming with a horrid imprecation (for he swore a
+round hand) that he was as good a son of the true fold as ever drew
+breath. Stap my vitals, said he, them was always the sentiments of
+honest Frank Costello which I was bred up most particular to honour thy
+father and thy mother that had the best hand to a rolypoly or a hasty
+pudding as you ever see what I always looks back on with a loving heart.
+
+To revert to Mr Bloom who, after his first entry, had been conscious of
+some impudent mocks which he however had borne with as being the fruits
+of that age upon which it is commonly charged that it knows not
+pity. The young sparks, it is true, were as full of extravagancies
+as overgrown children: the words of their tumultuary discussions
+were difficultly understood and not often nice: their testiness and
+outrageous _mots_ were such that his intellects resiled from: nor were
+they scrupulously sensible of the proprieties though their fund of
+strong animal spirits spoke in their behalf. But the word of Mr Costello
+was an unwelcome language for him for he nauseated the wretch that
+seemed to him a cropeared creature of a misshapen gibbosity, born out
+of wedlock and thrust like a crookback toothed and feet first into the
+world, which the dint of the surgeon's pliers in his skull lent indeed
+a colour to, so as to put him in thought of that missing link of
+creation's chain desiderated by the late ingenious Mr Darwin. It was now
+for more than the middle span of our allotted years that he had passed
+through the thousand vicissitudes of existence and, being of a wary
+ascendancy and self a man of rare forecast, he had enjoined his heart
+to repress all motions of a rising choler and, by intercepting them
+with the readiest precaution, foster within his breast that plenitude
+of sufferance which base minds jeer at, rash judgers scorn and all find
+tolerable and but tolerable. To those who create themselves wits at the
+cost of feminine delicacy (a habit of mind which he never did hold
+with) to them he would concede neither to bear the name nor to herit
+the tradition of a proper breeding: while for such that, having lost
+all forbearance, can lose no more, there remained the sharp antidote of
+experience to cause their insolency to beat a precipitate and inglorious
+retreat. Not but what he could feel with mettlesome youth which, caring
+nought for the mows of dotards or the gruntlings of the severe, is ever
+(as the chaste fancy of the Holy Writer expresses it) for eating of the
+tree forbid it yet not so far forth as to pretermit humanity upon any
+condition soever towards a gentlewoman when she was about her lawful
+occasions. To conclude, while from the sister's words he had reckoned
+upon a speedy delivery he was, however, it must be owned, not a little
+alleviated by the intelligence that the issue so auspicated after an
+ordeal of such duress now testified once more to the mercy as well as to
+the bounty of the Supreme Being.
+
+Accordingly he broke his mind to his neighbour, saying that, to express
+his notion of the thing, his opinion (who ought not perchance to express
+one) was that one must have a cold constitution and a frigid genius not
+to be rejoiced by this freshest news of the fruition of her confinement
+since she had been in such pain through no fault of hers. The dressy
+young blade said it was her husband's that put her in that expectation
+or at least it ought to be unless she were another Ephesian matron. I
+must acquaint you, said Mr Crotthers, clapping on the table so as to
+evoke a resonant comment of emphasis, old Glory Allelujurum was round
+again today, an elderly man with dundrearies, preferring through his
+nose a request to have word of Wilhelmina, my life, as he calls her. I
+bade him hold himself in readiness for that the event would burst anon.
+'Slife, I'll be round with you. I cannot but extol the virile potency of
+the old bucko that could still knock another child out of her. All fell
+to praising of it, each after his own fashion, though the same young
+blade held with his former view that another than her conjugial had
+been the man in the gap, a clerk in orders, a linkboy (virtuous) or
+an itinerant vendor of articles needed in every household. Singular,
+communed the guest with himself, the wonderfully unequal faculty of
+metempsychosis possessed by them, that the puerperal dormitory and the
+dissecting theatre should be the seminaries of such frivolity, that the
+mere acquisition of academic titles should suffice to transform in a
+pinch of time these votaries of levity into exemplary practitioners of
+an art which most men anywise eminent have esteemed the noblest. But,
+he further added, it is mayhap to relieve the pentup feelings that in
+common oppress them for I have more than once observed that birds of a
+feather laugh together.
+
+But with what fitness, let it be asked of the noble lord, his patron,
+has this alien, whom the concession of a gracious prince has admitted
+to civic rights, constituted himself the lord paramount of our
+internal polity? Where is now that gratitude which loyalty should have
+counselled? During the recent war whenever the enemy had a temporary
+advantage with his granados did this traitor to his kind not seize that
+moment to discharge his piece against the empire of which he is a tenant
+at will while he trembled for the security of his four per cents? Has he
+forgotten this as he forgets all benefits received? Or is it that from
+being a deluder of others he has become at last his own dupe as he is,
+if report belie him not, his own and his only enjoyer? Far be it from
+candour to violate the bedchamber of a respectable lady, the daughter of
+a gallant major, or to cast the most distant reflections upon her
+virtue but if he challenges attention there (as it was indeed highly his
+interest not to have done) then be it so. Unhappy woman, she has been
+too long and too persistently denied her legitimate prerogative to
+listen to his objurgations with any other feeling than the derision of
+the desperate. He says this, a censor of morals, a very pelican in his
+piety, who did not scruple, oblivious of the ties of nature, to attempt
+illicit intercourse with a female domestic drawn from the lowest strata
+of society! Nay, had the hussy's scouringbrush not been her tutelary
+angel, it had gone with her as hard as with Hagar, the Egyptian! In the
+question of the grazing lands his peevish asperity is notorious and in
+Mr Cuffe's hearing brought upon him from an indignant rancher a scathing
+retort couched in terms as straightforward as they were bucolic. It ill
+becomes him to preach that gospel. Has he not nearer home a seedfield
+that lies fallow for the want of the ploughshare? A habit reprehensible
+at puberty is second nature and an opprobrium in middle life. If he must
+dispense his balm of Gilead in nostrums and apothegms of dubious taste
+to restore to health a generation of unfledged profligates let his
+practice consist better with the doctrines that now engross him. His
+marital breast is the repository of secrets which decorum is reluctant
+to adduce. The lewd suggestions of some faded beauty may console him for
+a consort neglected and debauched but this new exponent of morals and
+healer of ills is at his best an exotic tree which, when rooted in
+its native orient, throve and flourished and was abundant in balm
+but, transplanted to a clime more temperate, its roots have lost their
+quondam vigour while the stuff that comes away from it is stagnant, acid
+and inoperative.
+
+The news was imparted with a circumspection recalling the ceremonial
+usage of the Sublime Porte by the second female infirmarian to the
+junior medical officer in residence, who in his turn announced to the
+delegation that an heir had been born, When he had betaken himself
+to the women's apartment to assist at the prescribed ceremony of the
+afterbirth in the presence of the secretary of state for domestic
+affairs and the members of the privy council, silent in unanimous
+exhaustion and approbation the delegates, chafing under the length and
+solemnity of their vigil and hoping that the joyful occurrence would
+palliate a licence which the simultaneous absence of abigail and
+obstetrician rendered the easier, broke out at once into a strife of
+tongues. In vain the voice of Mr Canvasser Bloom was heard endeavouring
+to urge, to mollify, to refrain. The moment was too propitious for the
+display of that discursiveness which seemed the only bond of union among
+tempers so divergent. Every phase of the situation was successively
+eviscerated: the prenatal repugnance of uterine brothers, the Caesarean
+section, posthumity with respect to the father and, that rarer form,
+with respect to the mother, the fratricidal case known as the Childs
+Murder and rendered memorable by the impassioned plea of Mr Advocate
+Bushe which secured the acquittal of the wrongfully accused, the
+rights of primogeniture and king's bounty touching twins and triplets,
+miscarriages and infanticides, simulated or dissimulated, the acardiac
+_foetus in foetu_ and aprosopia due to a congestion, the agnathia
+of certain chinless Chinamen (cited by Mr Candidate Mulligan) in
+consequence of defective reunion of the maxillary knobs along the medial
+line so that (as he said) one ear could hear what the other spoke, the
+benefits of anesthesia or twilight sleep, the prolongation of labour
+pains in advanced gravidancy by reason of pressure on the vein, the
+premature relentment of the amniotic fluid (as exemplified in the
+actual case) with consequent peril of sepsis to the matrix, artificial
+insemination by means of syringes, involution of the womb consequent
+upon the menopause, the problem of the perpetration of the species in
+the case of females impregnated by delinquent rape, that distressing
+manner of delivery called by the Brandenburghers _Sturzgeburt,_ the
+recorded instances of multiseminal, twikindled and monstrous births
+conceived during the catamenic period or of consanguineous parents--in
+a word all the cases of human nativity which Aristotle has classified
+in his masterpiece with chromolithographic illustrations. The gravest
+problems of obstetrics and forensic medicine were examined with as much
+animation as the most popular beliefs on the state of pregnancy such as
+the forbidding to a gravid woman to step over a countrystile lest,
+by her movement, the navelcord should strangle her creature and
+the injunction upon her in the event of a yearning, ardently and
+ineffectually entertained, to place her hand against that part of her
+person which long usage has consecrated as the seat of castigation.
+The abnormalities of harelip, breastmole, supernumerary digits, negro's
+inkle, strawberry mark and portwine stain were alleged by one as a
+_prima facie_ and natural hypothetical explanation of those swineheaded
+(the case of Madame Grissel Steevens was not forgotten) or doghaired
+infants occasionally born. The hypothesis of a plasmic memory, advanced
+by the Caledonian envoy and worthy of the metaphysical traditions of
+the land he stood for, envisaged in such cases an arrest of embryonic
+development at some stage antecedent to the human. An outlandish
+delegate sustained against both these views, with such heat as almost
+carried conviction, the theory of copulation between women and the males
+of brutes, his authority being his own avouchment in support of fables
+such as that of the Minotaur which the genius of the elegant Latin poet
+has handed down to us in the pages of his Metamorphoses. The impression
+made by his words was immediate but shortlived. It was effaced as easily
+as it had been evoked by an allocution from Mr Candidate Mulligan in
+that vein of pleasantry which none better than he knew how to affect,
+postulating as the supremest object of desire a nice clean old man.
+Contemporaneously, a heated argument having arisen between Mr Delegate
+Madden and Mr Candidate Lynch regarding the juridical and theological
+dilemma created in the event of one Siamese twin predeceasing the other,
+the difficulty by mutual consent was referred to Mr Canvasser Bloom
+for instant submittal to Mr Coadjutor Deacon Dedalus. Hitherto silent,
+whether the better to show by preternatural gravity that curious dignity
+of the garb with which he was invested or in obedience to an inward
+voice, he delivered briefly and, as some thought, perfunctorily the
+ecclesiastical ordinance forbidding man to put asunder what God has
+joined.
+
+But Malachias' tale began to freeze them with horror. He conjured up the
+scene before them. The secret panel beside the chimney slid back and
+in the recess appeared... Haines! Which of us did not feel his flesh
+creep! He had a portfolio full of Celtic literature in one hand, in the
+other a phial marked _Poison._ Surprise, horror, loathing were depicted
+on all faces while he eyed them with a ghostly grin. I anticipated some
+such reception, he began with an eldritch laugh, for which, it seems,
+history is to blame. Yes, it is true. I am the murderer of Samuel
+Childs. And how I am punished! The inferno has no terrors for me. This
+is the appearance is on me. Tare and ages, what way would I be resting
+at all, he muttered thickly, and I tramping Dublin this while back
+with my share of songs and himself after me the like of a soulth or a
+bullawurrus? My hell, and Ireland's, is in this life. It is what I tried
+to obliterate my crime. Distractions, rookshooting, the Erse language
+(he recited some), laudanum (he raised the phial to his lips), camping
+out. In vain! His spectre stalks me. Dope is my only hope... Ah!
+Destruction! The black panther! With a cry he suddenly vanished and the
+panel slid back. An instant later his head appeared in the door opposite
+and said: Meet me at Westland Row station at ten past eleven. He was
+gone. Tears gushed from the eyes of the dissipated host. The seer
+raised his hand to heaven, murmuring: The vendetta of Mananaun! The
+sage repeated: _Lex talionis_. The sentimentalist is he who would enjoy
+without incurring the immense debtorship for a thing done. Malachias,
+overcome by emotion, ceased. The mystery was unveiled. Haines was the
+third brother. His real name was Childs. The black panther was himself
+the ghost of his own father. He drank drugs to obliterate. For this
+relief much thanks. The lonely house by the graveyard is uninhabited.
+No soul will live there. The spider pitches her web in the solitude.
+The nocturnal rat peers from his hole. A curse is on it. It is haunted.
+Murderer's ground.
+
+What is the age of the soul of man? As she hath the virtue of the
+chameleon to change her hue at every new approach, to be gay with the
+merry and mournful with the downcast, so too is her age changeable as
+her mood. No longer is Leopold, as he sits there, ruminating, chewing
+the cud of reminiscence, that staid agent of publicity and holder of a
+modest substance in the funds. A score of years are blown away. He is
+young Leopold. There, as in a retrospective arrangement, a mirror within
+a mirror (hey, presto!), he beholdeth himself. That young figure of then
+is seen, precociously manly, walking on a nipping morning from the old
+house in Clanbrassil street to the high school, his booksatchel on
+him bandolierwise, and in it a goodly hunk of wheaten loaf, a mother's
+thought. Or it is the same figure, a year or so gone over, in his first
+hard hat (ah, that was a day!), already on the road, a fullfledged
+traveller for the family firm, equipped with an orderbook, a scented
+handkerchief (not for show only), his case of bright trinketware (alas!
+a thing now of the past!) and a quiverful of compliant smiles for this
+or that halfwon housewife reckoning it out upon her fingertips or for
+a budding virgin, shyly acknowledging (but the heart? tell me!) his
+studied baisemoins. The scent, the smile, but, more than these, the dark
+eyes and oleaginous address, brought home at duskfall many a commission
+to the head of the firm, seated with Jacob's pipe after like labours in
+the paternal ingle (a meal of noodles, you may be sure, is aheating),
+reading through round horned spectacles some paper from the Europe of a
+month before. But hey, presto, the mirror is breathed on and the young
+knighterrant recedes, shrivels, dwindles to a tiny speck within the
+mist. Now he is himself paternal and these about him might be his
+sons. Who can say? The wise father knows his own child. He thinks of a
+drizzling night in Hatch street, hard by the bonded stores there, the
+first. Together (she is a poor waif, a child of shame, yours and mine
+and of all for a bare shilling and her luckpenny), together they hear
+the heavy tread of the watch as two raincaped shadows pass the new royal
+university. Bridie! Bridie Kelly! He will never forget the name, ever
+remember the night: first night, the bridenight. They are entwined
+in nethermost darkness, the willer with the willed, and in an instant
+(_fiat_!) light shall flood the world. Did heart leap to heart? Nay,
+fair reader. In a breath 'twas done but--hold! Back! It must not be! In
+terror the poor girl flees away through the murk. She is the bride of
+darkness, a daughter of night. She dare not bear the sunnygolden babe
+of day. No, Leopold. Name and memory solace thee not. That youthful
+illusion of thy strength was taken from thee--and in vain. No son of thy
+loins is by thee. There is none now to be for Leopold, what Leopold was
+for Rudolph.
+
+The voices blend and fuse in clouded silence: silence that is the
+infinite of space: and swiftly, silently the soul is wafted over regions
+of cycles of generations that have lived. A region where grey twilight
+ever descends, never falls on wide sagegreen pasturefields, shedding her
+dusk, scattering a perennial dew of stars. She follows her mother with
+ungainly steps, a mare leading her fillyfoal. Twilight phantoms
+are they, yet moulded in prophetic grace of structure, slim shapely
+haunches, a supple tendonous neck, the meek apprehensive skull. They
+fade, sad phantoms: all is gone. Agendath is a waste land, a home of
+screechowls and the sandblind upupa. Netaim, the golden, is no more. And
+on the highway of the clouds they come, muttering thunder of rebellion,
+the ghosts of beasts. Huuh! Hark! Huuh! Parallax stalks behind and goads
+them, the lancinating lightnings of whose brow are scorpions. Elk and
+yak, the bulls of Bashan and of Babylon, mammoth and mastodon, they come
+trooping to the sunken sea, _Lacus Mortis_. Ominous revengeful zodiacal
+host! They moan, passing upon the clouds, horned and capricorned, the
+trumpeted with the tusked, the lionmaned, the giantantlered, snouter
+and crawler, rodent, ruminant and pachyderm, all their moving moaning
+multitude, murderers of the sun.
+
+Onward to the dead sea they tramp to drink, unslaked and with horrible
+gulpings, the salt somnolent inexhaustible flood. And the equine portent
+grows again, magnified in the deserted heavens, nay to heaven's own
+magnitude, till it looms, vast, over the house of Virgo. And lo, wonder
+of metempsychosis, it is she, the everlasting bride, harbinger of the
+daystar, the bride, ever virgin. It is she, Martha, thou lost one,
+Millicent, the young, the dear, the radiant. How serene does she now
+arise, a queen among the Pleiades, in the penultimate antelucan hour,
+shod in sandals of bright gold, coifed with a veil of what do you call
+it gossamer. It floats, it flows about her starborn flesh and loose it
+streams, emerald, sapphire, mauve and heliotrope, sustained on currents
+of the cold interstellar wind, winding, coiling, simply swirling,
+writhing in the skies a mysterious writing till, after a myriad
+metamorphoses of symbol, it blazes, Alpha, a ruby and triangled sign
+upon the forehead of Taurus.
+
+Francis was reminding Stephen of years before when they had been at
+school together in Conmee's time. He asked about Glaucon, Alcibiades,
+Pisistratus. Where were they now? Neither knew. You have spoken of the
+past and its phantoms, Stephen said. Why think of them? If I call them
+into life across the waters of Lethe will not the poor ghosts troop to
+my call? Who supposes it? I, Bous Stephanoumenos, bullockbefriending
+bard, am lord and giver of their life. He encircled his gadding hair
+with a coronal of vineleaves, smiling at Vincent. That answer and those
+leaves, Vincent said to him, will adorn you more fitly when something
+more, and greatly more, than a capful of light odes can call your genius
+father. All who wish you well hope this for you. All desire to see
+you bring forth the work you meditate, to acclaim you Stephaneforos. I
+heartily wish you may not fail them. O no, Vincent Lenehan said, laying
+a hand on the shoulder near him. Have no fear. He could not leave his
+mother an orphan. The young man's face grew dark. All could see how hard
+it was for him to be reminded of his promise and of his recent loss. He
+would have withdrawn from the feast had not the noise of voices allayed
+the smart. Madden had lost five drachmas on Sceptre for a whim of the
+rider's name: Lenehan as much more. He told them of the race. The flag
+fell and, huuh! off, scamper, the mare ran out freshly with 0. Madden
+up. She was leading the field. All hearts were beating. Even Phyllis
+could not contain herself. She waved her scarf and cried: Huzzah!
+Sceptre wins! But in the straight on the run home when all were in close
+order the dark horse Throwaway drew level, reached, outstripped her. All
+was lost now. Phyllis was silent: her eyes were sad anemones. Juno, she
+cried, I am undone. But her lover consoled her and brought her a bright
+casket of gold in which lay some oval sugarplums which she partook. A
+tear fell: one only. A whacking fine whip, said Lenehan, is W. Lane.
+Four winners yesterday and three today. What rider is like him? Mount
+him on the camel or the boisterous buffalo the victory in a hack canter
+is still his. But let us bear it as was the ancient wont. Mercy on the
+luckless! Poor Sceptre! he said with a light sigh. She is not the filly
+that she was. Never, by this hand, shall we behold such another. By gad,
+sir, a queen of them. Do you remember her, Vincent? I wish you could
+have seen my queen today, Vincent said. How young she was and radiant
+(Lalage were scarce fair beside her) in her yellow shoes and frock of
+muslin, I do not know the right name of it. The chestnuts that shaded
+us were in bloom: the air drooped with their persuasive odour and with
+pollen floating by us. In the sunny patches one might easily have
+cooked on a stone a batch of those buns with Corinth fruit in them that
+Periplipomenes sells in his booth near the bridge. But she had nought
+for her teeth but the arm with which I held her and in that she nibbled
+mischievously when I pressed too close. A week ago she lay ill, four
+days on the couch, but today she was free, blithe, mocked at peril.
+She is more taking then. Her posies tool Mad romp that she is, she had
+pulled her fill as we reclined together. And in your ear, my friend, you
+will not think who met us as we left the field. Conmee himself! He was
+walking by the hedge, reading, I think a brevier book with, I doubt not,
+a witty letter in it from Glycera or Chloe to keep the page. The sweet
+creature turned all colours in her confusion, feigning to reprove a
+slight disorder in her dress: a slip of underwood clung there for the
+very trees adore her. When Conmee had passed she glanced at her lovely
+echo in that little mirror she carries. But he had been kind. In going
+by he had blessed us. The gods too are ever kind, Lenehan said. If I had
+poor luck with Bass's mare perhaps this draught of his may serve me more
+propensely. He was laying his hand upon a winejar: Malachi saw it and
+withheld his act, pointing to the stranger and to the scarlet label.
+Warily, Malachi whispered, preserve a druid silence. His soul is far
+away. It is as painful perhaps to be awakened from a vision as to be
+born. Any object, intensely regarded, may be a gate of access to the
+incorruptible eon of the gods. Do you not think it, Stephen? Theosophos
+told me so, Stephen answered, whom in a previous existence Egyptian
+priests initiated into the mysteries of karmic law. The lords of the
+moon, Theosophos told me, an orangefiery shipload from planet Alpha
+of the lunar chain would not assume the etheric doubles and these
+were therefore incarnated by the rubycoloured egos from the second
+constellation.
+
+However, as a matter of fact though, the preposterous surmise about him
+being in some description of a doldrums or other or mesmerised which
+was entirely due to a misconception of the shallowest character, was
+not the case at all. The individual whose visual organs while the above
+was going on were at this juncture commencing to exhibit symptoms of
+animation was as astute if not astuter than any man living and anybody
+that conjectured the contrary would have found themselves pretty
+speedily in the wrong shop. During the past four minutes or thereabouts
+he had been staring hard at a certain amount of number one Bass bottled
+by Messrs Bass and Co at Burton-on-Trent which happened to be situated
+amongst a lot of others right opposite to where he was and which was
+certainly calculated to attract anyone's remark on account of its
+scarlet appearance. He was simply and solely, as it subsequently
+transpired for reasons best known to himself, which put quite an
+altogether different complexion on the proceedings, after the moment
+before's observations about boyhood days and the turf, recollecting two
+or three private transactions of his own which the other two were as
+mutually innocent of as the babe unborn. Eventually, however, both
+their eyes met and as soon as it began to dawn on him that the other was
+endeavouring to help himself to the thing he involuntarily determined
+to help him himself and so he accordingly took hold of the neck of the
+mediumsized glass recipient which contained the fluid sought after and
+made a capacious hole in it by pouring a lot of it out with, also at the
+same time, however, a considerable degree of attentiveness in order not
+to upset any of the beer that was in it about the place.
+
+The debate which ensued was in its scope and progress an epitome of the
+course of life. Neither place nor council was lacking in dignity. The
+debaters were the keenest in the land, the theme they were engaged on
+the loftiest and most vital. The high hall of Horne's house had never
+beheld an assembly so representative and so varied nor had the
+old rafters of that establishment ever listened to a language so
+encyclopaedic. A gallant scene in truth it made. Crotthers was there at
+the foot of the table in his striking Highland garb, his face glowing
+from the briny airs of the Mull of Galloway. There too, opposite to him,
+was Lynch whose countenance bore already the stigmata of early depravity
+and premature wisdom. Next the Scotchman was the place assigned to
+Costello, the eccentric, while at his side was seated in stolid repose
+the squat form of Madden. The chair of the resident indeed stood vacant
+before the hearth but on either flank of it the figure of Bannon in
+explorer's kit of tweed shorts and salted cowhide brogues contrasted
+sharply with the primrose elegance and townbred manners of Malachi
+Roland St John Mulligan. Lastly at the head of the board was the young
+poet who found a refuge from his labours of pedagogy and metaphysical
+inquisition in the convivial atmosphere of Socratic discussion, while
+to right and left of him were accommodated the flippant prognosticator,
+fresh from the hippodrome, and that vigilant wanderer, soiled by the
+dust of travel and combat and stained by the mire of an indelible
+dishonour, but from whose steadfast and constant heart no lure or peril
+or threat or degradation could ever efface the image of that voluptuous
+loveliness which the inspired pencil of Lafayette has limned for ages
+yet to come.
+
+It had better be stated here and now at the outset that the perverted
+transcendentalism to which Mr S. Dedalus' (Div. Scep.) contentions
+would appear to prove him pretty badly addicted runs directly counter to
+accepted scientific methods. Science, it cannot be too often repeated,
+deals with tangible phenomena. The man of science like the man in the
+street has to face hardheaded facts that cannot be blinked and explain
+them as best he can. There may be, it is true, some questions which
+science cannot answer--at present--such as the first problem submitted
+by Mr L. Bloom (Pubb. Canv.) regarding the future determination of sex.
+Must we accept the view of Empedocles of Trinacria that the right ovary
+(the postmenstrual period, assert others) is responsible for the birth
+of males or are the too long neglected spermatozoa or nemasperms the
+differentiating factors or is it, as most embryologists incline to
+opine, such as Culpepper, Spallanzani, Blumenbach, Lusk, Hertwig,
+Leopold and Valenti, a mixture of both? This would be tantamount to
+a cooperation (one of nature's favourite devices) between the _nisus
+formativus_ of the nemasperm on the one hand and on the other a happily
+chosen position, _succubitus felix_ of the passive element. The other
+problem raised by the same inquirer is scarcely less vital: infant
+mortality. It is interesting because, as he pertinently remarks, we
+are all born in the same way but we all die in different ways. Mr M.
+Mulligan (Hyg. et Eug. Doc.) blames the sanitary conditions in which
+our greylunged citizens contract adenoids, pulmonary complaints etc. by
+inhaling the bacteria which lurk in dust. These factors, he alleged,
+and the revolting spectacles offered by our streets, hideous publicity
+posters, religious ministers of all denominations, mutilated soldiers
+and sailors, exposed scorbutic cardrivers, the suspended carcases of
+dead animals, paranoic bachelors and unfructified duennas--these, he
+said, were accountable for any and every fallingoff in the calibre of
+the race. Kalipedia, he prophesied, would soon be generally adopted
+and all the graces of life, genuinely good music, agreeable literature,
+light philosophy, instructive pictures, plastercast reproductions of
+the classical statues such as Venus and Apollo, artistic coloured
+photographs of prize babies, all these little attentions would enable
+ladies who were in a particular condition to pass the intervening months
+in a most enjoyable manner. Mr J. Crotthers (Disc. Bacc.) attributes
+some of these demises to abdominal trauma in the case of women workers
+subjected to heavy labours in the workshop and to marital discipline in
+the home but by far the vast majority to neglect, private or official,
+culminating in the exposure of newborn infants, the practice of criminal
+abortion or in the atrocious crime of infanticide. Although the former
+(we are thinking of neglect) is undoubtedly only too true the case he
+cites of nurses forgetting to count the sponges in the peritoneal cavity
+is too rare to be normative. In fact when one comes to look into it the
+wonder is that so many pregnancies and deliveries go off so well as they
+do, all things considered and in spite of our human shortcomings which
+often baulk nature in her intentions. An ingenious suggestion is
+that thrown out by Mr V. Lynch (Bacc. Arith.) that both natality and
+mortality, as well as all other phenomena of evolution, tidal movements,
+lunar phases, blood temperatures, diseases in general, everything, in
+fine, in nature's vast workshop from the extinction of some remote sun
+to the blossoming of one of the countless flowers which beautify our
+public parks is subject to a law of numeration as yet unascertained.
+Still the plain straightforward question why a child of normally healthy
+parents and seemingly a healthy child and properly looked after succumbs
+unaccountably in early childhood (though other children of the same
+marriage do not) must certainly, in the poet's words, give us pause.
+Nature, we may rest assured, has her own good and cogent reasons for
+whatever she does and in all probability such deaths are due to some law
+of anticipation by which organisms in which morbous germs have taken
+up their residence (modern science has conclusively shown that only the
+plasmic substance can be said to be immortal) tend to disappear at an
+increasingly earlier stage of development, an arrangement which, though
+productive of pain to some of our feelings (notably the maternal), is
+nevertheless, some of us think, in the long run beneficial to the
+race in general in securing thereby the survival of the fittest. Mr S.
+Dedalus' (Div. Scep.) remark (or should it be called an interruption?)
+that an omnivorous being which can masticate, deglute, digest and
+apparently pass through the ordinary channel with pluterperfect
+imperturbability such multifarious aliments as cancrenous females
+emaciated by parturition, corpulent professional gentlemen, not to speak
+of jaundiced politicians and chlorotic nuns, might possibly find gastric
+relief in an innocent collation of staggering bob, reveals as nought
+else could and in a very unsavoury light the tendency above alluded to.
+For the enlightenment of those who are not so intimately acquainted with
+the minutiae of the municipal abattoir as this morbidminded esthete and
+embryo philosopher who for all his overweening bumptiousness in things
+scientific can scarcely distinguish an acid from an alkali prides
+himself on being, it should perhaps be stated that staggering bob in
+the vile parlance of our lowerclass licensed victuallers signifies the
+cookable and eatable flesh of a calf newly dropped from its mother. In
+a recent public controversy with Mr L. Bloom (Pubb. Canv.) which took
+place in the commons' hall of the National Maternity Hospital, 29, 30
+and 31 Holles street, of which, as is well known, Dr A. Horne (Lic. in
+Midw., F. K. Q. C. P. I.) is the able and popular master, he is reported
+by eyewitnesses as having stated that once a woman has let the cat
+into the bag (an esthete's allusion, presumably, to one of the most
+complicated and marvellous of all nature's processes--the act of sexual
+congress) she must let it out again or give it life, as he phrased it,
+to save her own. At the risk of her own, was the telling rejoinder of
+his interlocutor, none the less effective for the moderate and measured
+tone in which it was delivered.
+
+Meanwhile the skill and patience of the physician had brought about a
+happy _accouchement._ It had been a weary weary while both for patient
+and doctor. All that surgical skill could do was done and the brave
+woman had manfully helped. She had. She had fought the good fight and
+now she was very very happy. Those who have passed on, who have gone
+before, are happy too as they gaze down and smile upon the touching
+scene. Reverently look at her as she reclines there with the motherlight
+in her eyes, that longing hunger for baby fingers (a pretty sight it is
+to see), in the first bloom of her new motherhood, breathing a silent
+prayer of thanksgiving to One above, the Universal Husband. And as her
+loving eyes behold her babe she wishes only one blessing more, to have
+her dear Doady there with her to share her joy, to lay in his arms that
+mite of God's clay, the fruit of their lawful embraces. He is older now
+(you and I may whisper it) and a trifle stooped in the shoulders yet
+in the whirligig of years a grave dignity has come to the conscientious
+second accountant of the Ulster bank, College Green branch. O Doady,
+loved one of old, faithful lifemate now, it may never be again, that
+faroff time of the roses! With the old shake of her pretty head she
+recalls those days. God! How beautiful now across the mist of years! But
+their children are grouped in her imagination about the bedside, hers
+and his, Charley, Mary Alice, Frederick Albert (if he had lived), Mamy,
+Budgy (Victoria Frances), Tom, Violet Constance Louisa, darling little
+Bobsy (called after our famous hero of the South African war, lord Bobs
+of Waterford and Candahar) and now this last pledge of their union, a
+Purefoy if ever there was one, with the true Purefoy nose. Young hopeful
+will be christened Mortimer Edward after the influential third cousin of
+Mr Purefoy in the Treasury Remembrancer's office, Dublin Castle. And so
+time wags on: but father Cronion has dealt lightly here. No, let no sigh
+break from that bosom, dear gentle Mina. And Doady, knock the ashes from
+your pipe, the seasoned briar you still fancy when the curfew rings for
+you (may it be the distant day!) and dout the light whereby you read
+in the Sacred Book for the oil too has run low, and so with a tranquil
+heart to bed, to rest. He knows and will call in His own good time. You
+too have fought the good fight and played loyally your man's part. Sir,
+to you my hand. Well done, thou good and faithful servant!
+
+There are sins or (let us call them as the world calls them) evil
+memories which are hidden away by man in the darkest places of the heart
+but they abide there and wait. He may suffer their memory to grow dim,
+let them be as though they had not been and all but persuade himself
+that they were not or at least were otherwise. Yet a chance word will
+call them forth suddenly and they will rise up to confront him in the
+most various circumstances, a vision or a dream, or while timbrel
+and harp soothe his senses or amid the cool silver tranquility of the
+evening or at the feast, at midnight, when he is now filled with wine.
+Not to insult over him will the vision come as over one that lies under
+her wrath, not for vengeance to cut him off from the living but shrouded
+in the piteous vesture of the past, silent, remote, reproachful.
+
+The stranger still regarded on the face before him a slow recession of
+that false calm there, imposed, as it seemed, by habit or some studied
+trick, upon words so embittered as to accuse in their speaker an
+unhealthiness, a _flair,_ for the cruder things of life. A scene
+disengages itself in the observer's memory, evoked, it would seem, by
+a word of so natural a homeliness as if those days were really present
+there (as some thought) with their immediate pleasures. A shaven space
+of lawn one soft May evening, the wellremembered grove of lilacs at
+Roundtown, purple and white, fragrant slender spectators of the game but
+with much real interest in the pellets as they run slowly forward over
+the sward or collide and stop, one by its fellow, with a brief alert
+shock. And yonder about that grey urn where the water moves at times
+in thoughtful irrigation you saw another as fragrant sisterhood, Floey,
+Atty, Tiny and their darker friend with I know not what of arresting in
+her pose then, Our Lady of the Cherries, a comely brace of them pendent
+from an ear, bringing out the foreign warmth of the skin so daintily
+against the cool ardent fruit. A lad of four or five in linseywoolsey
+(blossomtime but there will be cheer in the kindly hearth when ere long
+the bowls are gathered and hutched) is standing on the urn secured by
+that circle of girlish fond hands. He frowns a little just as this young
+man does now with a perhaps too conscious enjoyment of the danger but
+must needs glance at whiles towards where his mother watches from the
+PIAZZETTA giving upon the flowerclose with a faint shadow of remoteness
+or of reproach (_alles Vergangliche_) in her glad look.
+
+Mark this farther and remember. The end comes suddenly. Enter that
+antechamber of birth where the studious are assembled and note their
+faces. Nothing, as it seems, there of rash or violent. Quietude of
+custody, rather, befitting their station in that house, the vigilant
+watch of shepherds and of angels about a crib in Bethlehem of Juda long
+ago. But as before the lightning the serried stormclouds, heavy with
+preponderant excess of moisture, in swollen masses turgidly distended,
+compass earth and sky in one vast slumber, impending above parched field
+and drowsy oxen and blighted growth of shrub and verdure till in an
+instant a flash rives their centres and with the reverberation of the
+thunder the cloudburst pours its torrent, so and not otherwise was the
+transformation, violent and instantaneous, upon the utterance of the
+word.
+
+Burke's! outflings my lord Stephen, giving the cry, and a tag and
+bobtail of all them after, cockerel, jackanapes, welsher, pilldoctor,
+punctual Bloom at heels with a universal grabbing at headgear,
+ashplants, bilbos, Panama hats and scabbards, Zermatt alpenstocks and
+what not. A dedale of lusty youth, noble every student there. Nurse
+Callan taken aback in the hallway cannot stay them nor smiling surgeon
+coming downstairs with news of placentation ended, a full pound if a
+milligramme. They hark him on. The door! It is open? Ha! They are out,
+tumultuously, off for a minute's race, all bravely legging it, Burke's
+of Denzille and Holles their ulterior goal. Dixon follows giving them
+sharp language but raps out an oath, he too, and on. Bloom stays with
+nurse a thought to send a kind word to happy mother and nurseling up
+there. Doctor Diet and Doctor Quiet. Looks she too not other now? Ward
+of watching in Horne's house has told its tale in that washedout pallor.
+Then all being gone, a glance of motherwit helping, he whispers close in
+going: Madam, when comes the storkbird for thee?
+
+The air without is impregnated with raindew moisture, life essence
+celestial, glistening on Dublin stone there under starshiny _coelum._
+God's air, the Allfather's air, scintillant circumambient cessile air.
+Breathe it deep into thee. By heaven, Theodore Purefoy, thou hast done a
+doughty deed and no botch! Thou art, I vow, the remarkablest progenitor
+barring none in this chaffering allincluding most farraginous chronicle.
+Astounding! In her lay a Godframed Godgiven preformed possibility which
+thou hast fructified with thy modicum of man's work. Cleave to her!
+Serve! Toil on, labour like a very bandog and let scholarment and all
+Malthusiasts go hang. Thou art all their daddies, Theodore. Art drooping
+under thy load, bemoiled with butcher's bills at home and ingots (not
+thine!) in the countinghouse? Head up! For every newbegotten thou shalt
+gather thy homer of ripe wheat. See, thy fleece is drenched. Dost envy
+Darby Dullman there with his Joan? A canting jay and a rheumeyed
+curdog is all their progeny. Pshaw, I tell thee! He is a mule, a dead
+gasteropod, without vim or stamina, not worth a cracked kreutzer.
+Copulation without population! No, say I! Herod's slaughter of the
+innocents were the truer name. Vegetables, forsooth, and sterile
+cohabitation! Give her beefsteaks, red, raw, bleeding! She is a hoary
+pandemonium of ills, enlarged glands, mumps, quinsy, bunions, hayfever,
+bedsores, ringworm, floating kidney, Derbyshire neck, warts, bilious
+attacks, gallstones, cold feet, varicose veins. A truce to threnes and
+trentals and jeremies and all such congenital defunctive music! Twenty
+years of it, regret them not. With thee it was not as with many that
+will and would and wait and never--do. Thou sawest thy America, thy
+lifetask, and didst charge to cover like the transpontine bison. How
+saith Zarathustra? _Deine Kuh Trübsal melkest Du. Nun Trinkst Du die
+süsse Milch des Euters_. See! it displodes for thee in abundance. Drink,
+man, an udderful! Mother's milk, Purefoy, the milk of human kin, milk
+too of those burgeoning stars overhead rutilant in thin rainvapour,
+punch milk, such as those rioters will quaff in their guzzling den, milk
+of madness, the honeymilk of Canaan's land. Thy cow's dug was tough,
+what? Ay, but her milk is hot and sweet and fattening. No dollop this
+but thick rich bonnyclaber. To her, old patriarch! Pap! _Per deam
+Partulam et Pertundam nunc est bibendum_!
+
+All off for a buster, armstrong, hollering down the street. Bonafides.
+Where you slep las nigh? Timothy of the battered naggin. Like ole
+Billyo. Any brollies or gumboots in the fambly? Where the Henry Nevil's
+sawbones and ole clo? Sorra one o' me knows. Hurrah there, Dix! Forward
+to the ribbon counter. Where's Punch? All serene. Jay, look at the
+drunken minister coming out of the maternity hospal! _Benedicat vos
+omnipotens Deus, Pater et Filius_. A make, mister. The Denzille lane
+boys. Hell, blast ye! Scoot. Righto, Isaacs, shove em out of the
+bleeding limelight. Yous join uz, dear sir? No hentrusion in life. Lou
+heap good man. Allee samee dis bunch. _En avant, mes enfants_! Fire
+away number one on the gun. Burke's! Burke's! Thence they advanced five
+parasangs. Slattery's mounted foot. Where's that bleeding awfur? Parson
+Steve, apostates' creed! No, no, Mulligan! Abaft there! Shove ahead.
+Keep a watch on the clock. Chuckingout time. Mullee! What's on you? _Ma
+mère m'a mariée._ British Beatitudes! _Retamplatan Digidi Boumboum_.
+Ayes have it. To be printed and bound at the Druiddrum press by two
+designing females. Calf covers of pissedon green. Last word in art
+shades. Most beautiful book come out of Ireland my time. _Silentium!_
+Get a spurt on. Tention. Proceed to nearest canteen and there annex
+liquor stores. March! Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are (atitudes!)
+parching. Beer, beef, business, bibles, bulldogs battleships, buggery
+and bishops. Whether on the scaffold high. Beer, beef, trample the
+bibles. When for Irelandear. Trample the trampellers. Thunderation! Keep
+the durned millingtary step. We fall. Bishops boosebox. Halt! Heave to.
+Rugger. Scrum in. No touch kicking. Wow, my tootsies! You hurt? Most
+amazingly sorry!
+
+Query. Who's astanding this here do? Proud possessor of damnall. Declare
+misery. Bet to the ropes. Me nantee saltee. Not a red at me this week
+gone. Yours? Mead of our fathers for the _Ãœbermensch._ Dittoh. Five
+number ones. You, sir? Ginger cordial. Chase me, the cabby's caudle.
+Stimulate the caloric. Winding of his ticker. Stopped short never to go
+again when the old. Absinthe for me, savvy? _Caramba!_ Have an eggnog or
+a prairie oyster. Enemy? Avuncular's got my timepiece. Ten to. Obligated
+awful. Don't mention it. Got a pectoral trauma, eh, Dix? Pos fact. Got
+bet be a boomblebee whenever he wus settin sleepin in hes bit garten.
+Digs up near the Mater. Buckled he is. Know his dona? Yup, sartin I do.
+Full of a dure. See her in her dishybilly. Peels off a credit. Lovey
+lovekin. None of your lean kine, not much. Pull down the blind, love.
+Two Ardilauns. Same here. Look slippery. If you fall don't wait to get
+up. Five, seven, nine. Fine! Got a prime pair of mincepies, no kid. And
+her take me to rests and her anker of rum. Must be seen to be believed.
+Your starving eyes and allbeplastered neck you stole my heart, O
+gluepot. Sir? Spud again the rheumatiz? All poppycock, you'll scuse me
+saying. For the hoi polloi. I vear thee beest a gert vool. Well, doc?
+Back fro Lapland? Your corporosity sagaciating O K? How's the squaws
+and papooses? Womanbody after going on the straw? Stand and deliver.
+Password. There's hair. Ours the white death and the ruddy birth. Hi!
+Spit in your own eye, boss! Mummer's wire. Cribbed out of Meredith.
+Jesified, orchidised, polycimical jesuit! Aunty mine's writing Pa Kinch.
+Baddybad Stephen lead astray goodygood Malachi.
+
+Hurroo! Collar the leather, youngun. Roun wi the nappy. Here, Jock braw
+Hielentman's your barleybree. Lang may your lum reek and your kailpot
+boil! My tipple. _Merci._ Here's to us. How's that? Leg before wicket.
+Don't stain my brandnew sitinems. Give's a shake of peppe, you there.
+Catch aholt. Caraway seed to carry away. Twig? Shrieks of silence. Every
+cove to his gentry mort. Venus Pandemos. _Les petites femmes_. Bold bad
+girl from the town of Mullingar. Tell her I was axing at her. Hauding
+Sara by the wame. On the road to Malahide. Me? If she who seduced me had
+left but the name. What do you want for ninepence? Machree, macruiskeen.
+Smutty Moll for a mattress jig. And a pull all together. _Ex!_
+
+Waiting, guvnor? Most deciduously. Bet your boots on. Stunned like,
+seeing as how no shiners is acoming. Underconstumble? He've got the
+chink _ad lib_. Seed near free poun on un a spell ago a said war hisn.
+Us come right in on your invite, see? Up to you, matey. Out with the
+oof. Two bar and a wing. You larn that go off of they there Frenchy
+bilks? Won't wash here for nuts nohow. Lil chile velly solly. Ise de
+cutest colour coon down our side. Gawds teruth, Chawley. We are nae fou.
+We're nae tha fou. Au reservoir, mossoo. Tanks you.
+
+'Tis, sure. What say? In the speakeasy. Tight. I shee you, shir. Bantam,
+two days teetee. Bowsing nowt but claretwine. Garn! Have a glint, do.
+Gum, I'm jiggered. And been to barber he have. Too full for words. With
+a railway bloke. How come you so? Opera he'd like? Rose of Castile. Rows
+of cast. Police! Some H2O for a gent fainted. Look at Bantam's flowers.
+Gemini. He's going to holler. The colleen bawn. My colleen bawn. O,
+cheese it! Shut his blurry Dutch oven with a firm hand. Had the winner
+today till I tipped him a dead cert. The ruffin cly the nab of Stephen
+Hand as give me the jady coppaleen. He strike a telegramboy paddock wire
+big bug Bass to the depot. Shove him a joey and grahamise. Mare on form
+hot order. Guinea to a goosegog. Tell a cram, that. Gospeltrue. Criminal
+diversion? I think that yes. Sure thing. Land him in chokeechokee if the
+harman beck copped the game. Madden back Madden's a maddening back. O
+lust our refuge and our strength. Decamping. Must you go? Off to mammy.
+Stand by. Hide my blushes someone. All in if he spots me. Come ahome,
+our Bantam. Horryvar, mong vioo. Dinna forget the cowslips for hersel.
+Cornfide. Wha gev ye thon colt? Pal to pal. Jannock. Of John Thomas, her
+spouse. No fake, old man Leo. S'elp me, honest injun. Shiver my timbers
+if I had. There's a great big holy friar. Vyfor you no me tell? Vel,
+I ses, if that aint a sheeny nachez, vel, I vil get misha mishinnah.
+Through yerd our lord, Amen.
+
+You move a motion? Steve boy, you're going it some. More bluggy
+drunkables? Will immensely splendiferous stander permit one stooder of
+most extreme poverty and one largesize grandacious thirst to terminate
+one expensive inaugurated libation? Give's a breather. Landlord,
+landlord, have you good wine, staboo? Hoots, mon, a wee drap to pree.
+Cut and come again. Right. Boniface! Absinthe the lot. _Nos omnes
+biberimus viridum toxicum diabolus capiat posterioria nostria_.
+Closingtime, gents. Eh? Rome boose for the Bloom toff. I hear you say
+onions? Bloo? Cadges ads. Photo's papli, by all that's gorgeous. Play
+low, pardner. Slide. _Bonsoir la compagnie_. And snares of the poxfiend.
+Where's the buck and Namby Amby? Skunked? Leg bail. Aweel, ye maun e'en
+gang yer gates. Checkmate. King to tower. Kind Kristyann wil yu help
+yung man hoose frend tuk bungellow kee tu find plais whear tu lay crown
+of his hed 2 night. Crickey, I'm about sprung. Tarnally dog gone my
+shins if this beent the bestest puttiest longbreak yet. Item, curate,
+couple of cookies for this child. Cot's plood and prandypalls, none! Not
+a pite of sheeses? Thrust syphilis down to hell and with him those other
+licensed spirits. Time, gents! Who wander through the world. Health all!
+_a la vôtre_!
+
+Golly, whatten tunket's yon guy in the mackintosh? Dusty Rhodes. Peep
+at his wearables. By mighty! What's he got? Jubilee mutton. Bovril,
+by James. Wants it real bad. D'ye ken bare socks? Seedy cuss in the
+Richmond? Rawthere! Thought he had a deposit of lead in his penis.
+Trumpery insanity. Bartle the Bread we calls him. That, sir, was once
+a prosperous cit. Man all tattered and torn that married a maiden all
+forlorn. Slung her hook, she did. Here see lost love. Walking Mackintosh
+of lonely canyon. Tuck and turn in. Schedule time. Nix for the hornies.
+Pardon? Seen him today at a runefal? Chum o' yourn passed in his checks?
+Ludamassy! Pore piccaninnies! Thou'll no be telling me thot, Pold veg!
+Did ums blubble bigsplash crytears cos fren Padney was took off in black
+bag? Of all de darkies Massa Pat was verra best. I never see the like
+since I was born. _Tiens, tiens_, but it is well sad, that, my faith,
+yes. O, get, rev on a gradient one in nine. Live axle drives are souped.
+Lay you two to one Jenatzy licks him ruddy well hollow. Jappies? High
+angle fire, inyah! Sunk by war specials. Be worse for him, says he, nor
+any Rooshian. Time all. There's eleven of them. Get ye gone. Forward,
+woozy wobblers! Night. Night. May Allah the Excellent One your soul this
+night ever tremendously conserve.
+
+Your attention! We're nae tha fou. The Leith police dismisseth us. The
+least tholice. Ware hawks for the chap puking. Unwell in his abominable
+regions. Yooka. Night. Mona, my true love. Yook. Mona, my own love. Ook.
+
+Hark! Shut your obstropolos. Pflaap! Pflaap! Blaze on. There she goes.
+Brigade! Bout ship. Mount street way. Cut up! Pflaap! Tally ho. You not
+come? Run, skelter, race. Pflaaaap!
+
+Lynch! Hey? Sign on long o' me. Denzille lane this way. Change here for
+Bawdyhouse. We two, she said, will seek the kips where shady Mary is.
+Righto, any old time. _Laetabuntur in cubilibus suis_. You coming long?
+Whisper, who the sooty hell's the johnny in the black duds? Hush! Sinned
+against the light and even now that day is at hand when he shall come to
+judge the world by fire. Pflaap! _Ut implerentur scripturae_. Strike
+up a ballad. Then outspake medical Dick to his comrade medical Davy.
+Christicle, who's this excrement yellow gospeller on the Merrion
+hall? Elijah is coming! Washed in the blood of the Lamb. Come on you
+winefizzling, ginsizzling, booseguzzling existences! Come on, you
+dog-gone, bullnecked, beetlebrowed, hogjowled, peanutbrained, weaseleyed
+fourflushers, false alarms and excess baggage! Come on, you triple
+extract of infamy! Alexander J Christ Dowie, that's my name, that's
+yanked to glory most half this planet from Frisco beach to Vladivostok.
+The Deity aint no nickel dime bumshow. I put it to you that He's on the
+square and a corking fine business proposition. He's the grandest thing
+yet and don't you forget it. Shout salvation in King Jesus. You'll
+need to rise precious early you sinner there, if you want to diddle the
+Almighty God. Pflaaaap! Not half. He's got a coughmixture with a punch
+in it for you, my friend, in his back pocket. Just you try it on.
+
+
+
+_The Mabbot street entrance of nighttown, before which stretches
+an uncobbled tramsiding set with skeleton tracks, red and green
+will-o'-the-wisps and danger signals. Rows of grimy houses with gaping
+doors. Rare lamps with faint rainbow fins. Round Rabaiotti's halted ice
+gondola stunted men and women squabble. They grab wafers between which
+are wedged lumps of coral and copper snow. Sucking, they scatter slowly.
+Children. The swancomb of the gondola, highreared, forges on through the
+murk, white and blue under a lighthouse. Whistles call and answer._
+
+THE CALLS: Wait, my love, and I'll be with you.
+
+THE ANSWERS: Round behind the stable.
+
+_(A deafmute idiot with goggle eyes, his shapeless mouth dribbling,
+jerks past, shaken in Saint Vitus' dance. A chain of children 's hands
+imprisons him.)_
+
+THE CHILDREN: Kithogue! Salute!
+
+THE IDIOT: _(Lifts a palsied left arm and gurgles)_ Grhahute!
+
+THE CHILDREN: Where's the great light?
+
+THE IDIOT: _(Gobbing)_ Ghaghahest.
+
+_(They release him. He jerks on. A pigmy woman swings on a rope slung
+between two railings, counting. A form sprawled against a dustbin and
+muffled by its arm and hat snores, groans, grinding growling teeth, and
+snores again. On a step a gnome totting among a rubbishtip crouches
+to shoulder a sack of rags and bones. A crone standing by with a smoky
+oillamp rams her last bottle in the maw of his sack. He heaves his
+booty, tugs askew his peaked cap and hobbles off mutely. The crone
+makes back for her lair, swaying her lamp. A bandy child, asquat on the
+doorstep with a paper shuttlecock, crawls sidling after her in spurts,
+clutches her skirt, scrambles up. A drunken navvy grips with both hands
+the railings of an area, lurching heavily. At a comer two night watch in
+shouldercapes, their hands upon their staffholsters, loom tall. A plate
+crashes: a woman screams: a child wails. Oaths of a man roar, mutter,
+cease. Figures wander, lurk, peer from warrens. In a room lit by a
+candle stuck in a bottleneck a slut combs out the tatts from the hair
+of a scrofulous child. Cissy Caffrey's voice, still young, sings shrill
+from a lane.)_
+
+CISSY CAFFREY:
+
+ _I gave it to Molly
+ Because she was jolly,
+ The leg of the duck,
+ The leg of the duck._
+
+_(Private Carr and Private Compton, swaggersticks tight in their oxters,
+as they march unsteadily rightaboutface and burst together from their
+mouths a volleyed fart. Laughter of men from the lane. A hoarse virago
+retorts.)_
+
+THE VIRAGO: Signs on you, hairy arse. More power the Cavan girl.
+
+CISSY CAFFREY: More luck to me. Cavan, Cootehill and Belturbet. _(She
+sings)_
+
+ _I gave it to Nelly
+ To stick in her belly,
+ The leg of the duck,
+ The leg of the duck._
+
+_(Private Carr and Private Compton turn and counterretort, their tunics
+bloodbright in a lampglow, black sockets of caps on their blond cropped
+polls. Stephen Dedalus and Lynch pass through the crowd close to the
+redcoats.)_
+
+PRIVATE COMPTON: _(Jerks his finger)_ Way for the parson.
+
+PRIVATE CARR: _(Turns and calls)_ What ho, parson!
+
+CISSY CAFFREY: _(Her voice soaring higher)_
+
+ _She has it, she got it,
+ Wherever she put it,
+ The leg of the duck._
+
+_(Stephen, flourishing the ashplant in his left hand, chants with joy
+the_ introit _for paschal time. Lynch, his jockeycap low on his brow,
+attends him, a sneer of discontent wrinkling his face.)_
+
+STEPHEN: _Vidi aquam egredientem de templo a latere dextro. Alleluia_.
+
+_(The famished snaggletusks of an elderly bawd protrude from a
+doorway.)_
+
+THE BAWD: _(Her voice whispering huskily)_ Sst! Come here till I tell
+you. Maidenhead inside. Sst!
+
+STEPHEN: _(Altius aliquantulum) Et omnes ad quos pervenit aqua ista_.
+
+THE BAWD: _(Spits in their trail her jet of venom)_ Trinity medicals.
+Fallopian tube. All prick and no pence.
+
+_(Edy Boardman, sniffling, crouched with bertha supple, draws her shawl
+across her nostrils.)_
+
+EDY BOARDMAN: _(Bickering)_ And says the one: I seen you up Faithful
+place with your squarepusher, the greaser off the railway, in his
+cometobed hat. Did you, says I. That's not for you to say, says I. You
+never seen me in the mantrap with a married highlander, says I. The
+likes of her! Stag that one is! Stubborn as a mule! And her walking with
+two fellows the one time, Kilbride, the enginedriver, and lancecorporal
+Oliphant.
+
+STEPHEN: _(Ttriumphaliter) Salvi facti sunt._
+
+_(He flourishes his ashplant, shivering the lamp image, shattering light
+over the world. A liver and white spaniel on the prowl slinks after him,
+growling. Lynch scares it with a kick.)_
+
+LYNCH: So that?
+
+STEPHEN: (_Looks behind_) So that gesture, not music not odour, would be
+a universal language, the gift of tongues rendering visible not the lay
+sense but the first entelechy, the structural rhythm.
+
+LYNCH: Pornosophical philotheology. Metaphysics in Mecklenburgh street!
+
+STEPHEN: We have shrewridden Shakespeare and henpecked Socrates. Even
+the allwisest Stagyrite was bitted, bridled and mounted by a light of
+love.
+
+LYNCH: Ba!
+
+STEPHEN: Anyway, who wants two gestures to illustrate a loaf and a jug?
+This movement illustrates the loaf and jug of bread or wine in Omar.
+Hold my stick.
+
+LYNCH: Damn your yellow stick. Where are we going?
+
+STEPHEN: Lecherous lynx, _to la belle dame sans merci,_ Georgina
+Johnson, _ad deam qui laetificat iuventutem meam._
+
+_(Stephen thrusts the ashplant on him and slowly holds out his hands,
+his head going back till both hands are a span from his breast, down
+turned, in planes intersecting, the fingers about to part, the left
+being higher.)_
+
+LYNCH: Which is the jug of bread? It skills not. That or the
+customhouse. Illustrate thou. Here take your crutch and walk.
+
+_(They pass. Tommy Caffrey scrambles to a gaslamp and, clasping, climbs
+in spasms. From the top spur he slides down. Jacky Caffrey clasps to
+climb. The navvy lurches against the lamp. The twins scuttle off in the
+dark. The navvy, swaying, presses a forefinger against a wing of his
+nose and ejects from the farther nostril a long liquid jet of snot.
+Shouldering the lamp he staggers away through the crowd with his flaring
+cresset._
+
+_Snakes of river fog creep slowly. From drains, clefts, cesspools,
+middens arise on all sides stagnant fumes. A glow leaps in the south
+beyond the seaward reaches of the river. The navvy, staggering forward,
+cleaves the crowd and lurches towards the tramsiding on the farther side
+under the railway bridge bloom appears, flushed, panting, cramming bread
+and chocolate into a sidepocket. From Gillen's hairdresser's window a
+composite portrait shows him gallant Nelson's image. A concave mirror
+at the side presents to him lovelorn longlost lugubru Booloohoom. Grave
+Gladstone sees him level, Bloom for Bloom. he passes, struck by the
+stare of truculent Wellington, but in the convex mirror grin unstruck
+the bonham eyes and fatchuck cheekchops of Jollypoldy the rixdix doldy._
+
+_At Antonio Pabaiotti's door Bloom halts, sweated under the bright
+arclamp. He disappears. In a moment he reappears and hurries on.)_
+
+BLOOM: Fish and taters. N. g. Ah!
+
+_(He disappears into Olhausen's, the porkbutcher's, under the downcoming
+rollshutter. A few moments later he emerges from under the shutter,
+puffing Poldy, blowing Bloohoom. In each hand he holds a parcel, one
+containing a lukewarm pig's crubeen, the other a cold sheep's trotter,
+sprinkled with wholepepper. He gasps, standing upright. Then bending to
+one side he presses a parcel against his ribs and groans.)_
+
+BLOOM: Stitch in my side. Why did I run?
+
+_(He takes breath with care and goes forward slowly towards the lampset
+siding. The glow leaps again.)_
+
+BLOOM: What is that? A flasher? Searchlight.
+
+_(He stands at Cormack's corner, watching)_
+
+BLOOM: _Aurora borealis_ or a steel foundry? Ah, the brigade, of course.
+South side anyhow. Big blaze. Might be his house. Beggar's bush. We're
+safe. _(He hums cheerfully)_ London's burning, London's burning! On
+fire, on fire! (_He catches sight of the navvy lurching through the
+crowd at the farther side of Talbot street_) I'll miss him. Run. Quick.
+Better cross here.
+
+_(He darts to cross the road. Urchins shout.)_
+
+THE URCHINS: Mind out, mister! (_Two cyclists, with lighted paper
+lanterns aswing, swim by him, grazing him, their bells rattling_)
+
+THE BELLS: Haltyaltyaltyall.
+
+BLOOM: _(Halts erect, stung by a spasm)_ Ow!
+
+_(He looks round, darts forward suddenly. Through rising fog a dragon
+sandstrewer, travelling at caution, slews heavily down upon him,
+its huge red headlight winking, its trolley hissing on the wire. The
+motorman bangs his footgong.)_
+
+THE GONG: Bang Bang Bla Bak Blud Bugg Bloo.
+
+_(The brake cracks violently. Bloom, raising a policeman's whitegloved
+hand, blunders stifflegged out of the track. The motorman, thrown
+forward, pugnosed, on the guidewheel, yells as he slides past over
+chains and keys.)_
+
+THE MOTORMAN: Hey, shitbreeches, are you doing the hat trick?
+
+BLOOM: _(Bloom trickleaps to the curbstone and halts again. He brushes a
+mudflake from his cheek with a parcelled hand.)_ No thoroughfare. Close
+shave that but cured the stitch. Must take up Sandow's exercises again.
+On the hands down. Insure against street accident too. The Providential.
+_(He feels his trouser pocket)_ Poor mamma's panacea. Heel easily catch
+in track or bootlace in a cog. Day the wheel of the black Maria peeled
+off my shoe at Leonard's corner. Third time is the charm. Shoe trick.
+Insolent driver. I ought to report him. Tension makes them nervous.
+Might be the fellow balked me this morning with that horsey woman. Same
+style of beauty. Quick of him all the same. The stiff walk. True word
+spoken in jest. That awful cramp in Lad lane. Something poisonous I
+ate. Emblem of luck. Why? Probably lost cattle. Mark of the beast. _(He
+closes his eyes an instant)_ Bit light in the head. Monthly or effect of
+the other. Brainfogfag. That tired feeling. Too much for me now. Ow!
+
+(A sinister figure leans on plaited legs against o'beirne's wall, a
+visage unknown, injected with dark mercury. From under a wideleaved
+sombrero the figure regards him with evil eye.)
+
+BLOOM: _Buenas noches, señorita Blanca, que calle es esta?_
+
+THE FIGURE: (_Impassive, raises a signal arm_) Password. _Sraid Mabbot._
+
+BLOOM: Haha. _Merci._ Esperanto. _Slan leath. (He mutters)_ Gaelic
+league spy, sent by that fireeater.
+
+_(He steps forward. A sackshouldered ragman bars his path. He steps
+left, ragsackman left.)_
+
+BLOOM: I beg. (_He swerves, sidles, stepaside, slips past and on_.)
+
+BLOOM: Keep to the right, right, right. If there is a signpost planted
+by the Touring Club at Stepaside who procured that public boon? I who
+lost my way and contributed to the columns of the _Irish Cyclist_ the
+letter headed _In darkest Stepaside_. Keep, keep, keep to the right.
+Rags and bones at midnight. A fence more likely. First place murderer
+makes for. Wash off his sins of the world.
+
+_(Jacky Caffrey, hunted by Tommy Caffrey, runs full tilt against
+Bloom.)_
+
+BLOOM: O
+
+_(Shocked, on weak hams, he halts. Tommy and Jacky vanish there, there.
+Bloom pats with parcelled hands watch fobpocket, bookpocket, pursepoket,
+sweets of sin, potato soap.)_
+
+BLOOM: Beware of pickpockets. Old thieves' dodge. Collide. Then snatch
+your purse.
+
+_(The retriever approaches sniffing, nose to the ground. A sprawled form
+sneezes. A stooped bearded figure appears garbed in the long caftan
+of an elder in Zion and a smokingcap with magenta tassels. Horned
+spectacles hang down at the wings of the nose. Yellow poison streaks are
+on the drawn face.)_
+
+RUDOLPH: Second halfcrown waste money today. I told you not go with
+drunken goy ever. So you catch no money.
+
+BLOOM: _(Hides the crubeen and trotter behind his back and, crestfallen,
+feels warm and cold feetmeat) Ja, ich weiss, papachi._
+
+RUDOLPH: What you making down this place? Have you no soul? _(with
+feeble vulture talons he feels the silent face of Bloom)_ Are you not
+my son Leopold, the grandson of Leopold? Are you not my dear son Leopold
+who left the house of his father and left the god of his fathers Abraham
+and Jacob?
+
+BLOOM: _(With precaution)_ I suppose so, father. Mosenthal. All that's
+left of him.
+
+RUDOLPH: _(Severely)_ One night they bring you home drunk as dog after
+spend your good money. What you call them running chaps?
+
+BLOOM: _(In youth's smart blue Oxford suit with white vestslips,
+narrowshouldered, in brown Alpine hat, wearing gent's sterling silver
+waterbury keyless watch and double curb Albert with seal attached, one
+side of him coated with stiffening mud)_ Harriers, father. Only that
+once.
+
+RUDOLPH: Once! Mud head to foot. Cut your hand open. Lockjaw. They make
+you kaputt, Leopoldleben. You watch them chaps.
+
+BLOOM: _(Weakly)_ They challenged me to a sprint. It was muddy. I
+slipped.
+
+RUDOLPH: _(With contempt) Goim nachez_! Nice spectacles for your poor
+mother!
+
+BLOOM: Mamma!
+
+ELLEN BLOOM: _(In pantomime dame's stringed mobcap, widow Twankey's
+crinoline and bustle, blouse with muttonleg sleeves buttoned behind,
+grey mittens and cameo brooch, her plaited hair in a crispine net,
+appears over the staircase banisters, a slanted candlestick in her hand,
+and cries out in shrill alarm)_ O blessed Redeemer, what have they done
+to him! My smelling salts! _(She hauls up a reef of skirt and ransacks
+the pouch of her striped blay petticoat. A phial, an Agnus Dei, a
+shrivelled potato and a celluloid doll fall out)_ Sacred Heart of Mary,
+where were you at all at all?
+
+_(Bloom, mumbling, his eyes downcast, begins to bestow his parcels in
+his filled pockets but desists, muttering.)_
+
+A VOICE: _(Sharply)_ Poldy!
+
+BLOOM: Who? _(He ducks and wards off a blow clumsily)_ At your service.
+
+_(He looks up. Beside her mirage of datepalms a handsome woman in
+Turkish costume stands before him. Opulent curves fill out her scarlet
+trousers and jacket, slashed with gold. A wide yellow cummerbund girdles
+her. A white yashmak, violet in the night, covers her face, leaving free
+only her large dark eyes and raven hair.)_
+
+BLOOM: Molly!
+
+MARION: Welly? Mrs Marion from this out, my dear man, when you speak to
+me. _(Satirically)_ Has poor little hubby cold feet waiting so long?
+
+BLOOM: _(Shifts from foot to foot)_ No, no. Not the least little bit.
+
+_(He breathes in deep agitation, swallowing gulps of air, questions,
+hopes, crubeens for her supper, things to tell her, excuse, desire,
+spellbound. A coin gleams on her forehead. On her feet are jewelled
+toerings. Her ankles are linked by a slender fetterchain. Beside her
+a camel, hooded with a turreting turban, waits. A silk ladder of
+innumerable rungs climbs to his bobbing howdah. He ambles near with
+disgruntled hindquarters. Fiercely she slaps his haunch, her goldcurb
+wristbangles angriling, scolding him in Moorish.)_
+
+MARION: Nebrakada! Femininum!
+
+_(The camel, lifting a foreleg, plucks from a tree a large mango fruit,
+offers it to his mistress, blinking, in his cloven hoof, then droops his
+head and, grunting, with uplifted neck, fumbles to kneel. Bloom stoops
+his back for leapfrog.)_
+
+BLOOM: I can give you... I mean as your business menagerer... Mrs
+Marion... if you...
+
+MARION: So you notice some change? _(Her hands passing slowly over her
+trinketed stomacher, a slow friendly mockery in her eyes)_ O Poldy,
+Poldy, you are a poor old stick in the mud! Go and see life. See the
+wide world.
+
+BLOOM: I was just going back for that lotion whitewax, orangeflower
+water. Shop closes early on Thursday. But the first thing in the
+morning. _(He pats divers pockets)_ This moving kidney. Ah!
+
+_(He points to the south, then to the east. A cake of new clean lemon
+soap arises, diffusing light and perfume.)_
+
+THE SOAP: We're a capital couple are Bloom and I. He brightens the
+earth. I polish the sky.
+
+
+_(The freckled face of Sweny, the druggist, appears in the disc of the
+soapsun.)_
+
+SWENY: Three and a penny, please.
+
+BLOOM: Yes. For my wife. Mrs Marion. Special recipe.
+
+MARION: _(Softly)_ Poldy!
+
+BLOOM: Yes, ma'am?
+
+MARION: _ti trema un poco il cuore?_
+
+_(In disdain she saunters away, plump as a pampered pouter pigeon,
+humming the duet from_ Don Giovanni.)
+
+BLOOM: Are you sure about that _voglio_? I mean the pronunciati...
+
+_(He follows, followed by the sniffing terrier. The elderly bawd seizes
+his sleeve, the bristles of her chinmole glittering.)_
+
+THE BAWD: Ten shillings a maidenhead. Fresh thing was never touched.
+Fifteen. There's no-one in it only her old father that's dead drunk.
+
+_(She points. In the gap of her dark den furtive, rainbedraggled, Bridie
+Kelly stands.)_
+
+BRIDIE: Hatch street. Any good in your mind?
+
+_(With a squeak she flaps her bat shawl and runs. A burly rough pursues
+with booted strides. He stumbles on the steps, recovers, plunges into
+gloom. Weak squeaks of laughter are heard, weaker.)_
+
+THE BAWD: _(Her wolfeyes shining)_ He's getting his pleasure. You won't
+get a virgin in the flash houses. Ten shillings. Don't be all night
+before the polis in plain clothes sees us. Sixtyseven is a bitch.
+
+_(Leering, Gerty Macdowell limps forward. She draws from behind, ogling,
+and shows coyly her bloodied clout.)_
+
+GERTY: With all my worldly goods I thee and thou. _(She murmurs)_ You
+did that. I hate you.
+
+BLOOM: I? When? You're dreaming. I never saw you.
+
+THE BAWD: Leave the gentleman alone, you cheat. Writing the gentleman
+false letters. Streetwalking and soliciting. Better for your mother take
+the strap to you at the bedpost, hussy like you.
+
+GERTY: _(To Bloom)_ When you saw all the secrets of my bottom drawer.
+_(She paws his sleeve, slobbering)_ Dirty married man! I love you for
+doing that to me.
+
+_(She glides away crookedly. Mrs Breen in man's frieze overcoat
+with loose bellows pockets, stands in the causeway, her roguish eyes
+wideopen, smiling in all her herbivorous buckteeth.)_
+
+MRS BREEN: Mr...
+
+BLOOM: _(Coughs gravely)_ Madam, when we last had this pleasure by
+letter dated the sixteenth instant...
+
+MRS BREEN: Mr Bloom! You down here in the haunts of sin! I caught you
+nicely! Scamp!
+
+BLOOM: _(Hurriedly)_ Not so loud my name. Whatever do you think of me?
+Don't give me away. Walls have ears. How do you do? It's ages since I.
+You're looking splendid. Absolutely it. Seasonable weather we are having
+this time of year. Black refracts heat. Short cut home here. Interesting
+quarter. Rescue of fallen women. Magdalen asylum. I am the secretary...
+
+MRS BREEN: _(Holds up a finger)_ Now, don't tell a big fib! I know
+somebody won't like that. O just wait till I see Molly! _(Slily)_
+Account for yourself this very sminute or woe betide you!
+
+BLOOM: _(Looks behind)_ She often said she'd like to visit. Slumming.
+The exotic, you see. Negro servants in livery too if she had money.
+Othello black brute. Eugene Stratton. Even the bones and cornerman at
+the Livermore christies. Bohee brothers. Sweep for that matter.
+
+_(Tom and Sam Bohee, coloured coons in white duck suits, scarlet socks,
+upstarched Sambo chokers and large scarlet asters in their buttonholes,
+leap out. Each has his banjo slung. Their paler smaller negroid hands
+jingle the twingtwang wires. Flashing white Kaffir eyes and tusks they
+rattle through a breakdown in clumsy clogs, twinging, singing, back to
+back, toe heel, heel toe, with smackfatclacking nigger lips.)_
+
+TOM AND SAM:
+
+ There's someone in the house with Dina
+ There's someone in the house, I know,
+ There's someone in the house with Dina
+ Playing on the old banjo.
+
+_(They whisk black masks from raw babby faces: then, chuckling,
+chortling, trumming, twanging, they diddle diddle cakewalk dance away.)_
+
+BLOOM: _(With a sour tenderish smile)_ A little frivol, shall we, if
+you are so inclined? Would you like me perhaps to embrace you just for a
+fraction of a second?
+
+MRS BREEN: _(Screams gaily)_ O, you ruck! You ought to see yourself!
+
+BLOOM: For old sake' sake. I only meant a square party, a mixed marriage
+mingling of our different little conjugials. You know I had a soft
+corner for you. _(Gloomily)_ 'Twas I sent you that valentine of the dear
+gazelle.
+
+MRS BREEN: Glory Alice, you do look a holy show! Killing simply. _(She
+puts out her hand inquisitively)_ What are you hiding behind your back?
+Tell us, there's a dear.
+
+BLOOM: _(Seizes her wrist with his free hand)_ Josie Powell that was,
+prettiest deb in Dublin. How time flies by! Do you remember, harking
+back in a retrospective arrangement, Old Christmas night, Georgina
+Simpson's housewarming while they were playing the Irving Bishop game,
+finding the pin blindfold and thoughtreading? Subject, what is in this
+snuffbox?
+
+MRS BREEN: You were the lion of the night with your seriocomic
+recitation and you looked the part. You were always a favourite with the
+ladies.
+
+BLOOM: _(Squire of dames, in dinner jacket with wateredsilk facings,
+blue masonic badge in his buttonhole, black bow and mother-of-pearl
+studs, a prismatic champagne glass tilted in his hand)_ Ladies and
+gentlemen, I give you Ireland, home and beauty.
+
+MRS BREEN: The dear dead days beyond recall. Love's old sweet song.
+
+BLOOM: _(Meaningfully dropping his voice)_ I confess I'm teapot with
+curiosity to find out whether some person's something is a little teapot
+at present.
+
+MRS BREEN: _(Gushingly)_ Tremendously teapot! London's teapot and I'm
+simply teapot all over me! _(She rubs sides with him)_ After the parlour
+mystery games and the crackers from the tree we sat on the staircase
+ottoman. Under the mistletoe. Two is company.
+
+BLOOM: _(Wearing a purple Napoleon hat with an amber halfmoon, his
+fingers and thumb passing slowly down to her soft moist meaty palm which
+she surrenders gently)_ The witching hour of night. I took the splinter
+out of this hand, carefully, slowly. _(Tenderly, as he slips on her
+finger a ruby ring) LÃ ci darem la mano._
+
+MRS BREEN: _(In a onepiece evening frock executed in moonlight blue, a
+tinsel sylph's diadem on her brow with her dancecard fallen beside
+her moonblue satin slipper, curves her palm softly, breathing quickly)
+Voglio e non._ You're hot! You're scalding! The left hand nearest the
+heart.
+
+BLOOM: When you made your present choice they said it was beauty and
+the beast. I can never forgive you for that. _(His clenched fist at
+his brow)_ Think what it means. All you meant to me then. _(Hoarsely)_
+Woman, it's breaking me!
+
+_(Denis Breen, whitetallhatted, with Wisdom Hely's sandwich-boards,
+shuffles past them in carpet slippers, his dull beard thrust out,
+muttering to right and left. Little Alf Bergan, cloaked in the pall of
+the ace of spades, dogs him to left and right, doubled in laughter.)_
+
+ALF BERGAN: _(Points jeering at the sandwichboards)_ U. p: Up.
+
+MRS BREEN: _(To Bloom)_ High jinks below stairs. _(She gives him the
+glad eye)_ Why didn't you kiss the spot to make it well? You wanted to.
+
+BLOOM: _(Shocked)_ Molly's best friend! Could you?
+
+MRS BREEN: _(Her pulpy tongue between her lips, offers a pigeon kiss)_
+Hnhn. The answer is a lemon. Have you a little present for me there?
+
+BLOOM: _(Offhandedly)_ Kosher. A snack for supper. The home without
+potted meat is incomplete. I was at _Leah._ Mrs Bandmann Palmer.
+Trenchant exponent of Shakespeare. Unfortunately threw away the
+programme. Rattling good place round there for pigs' feet. Feel.
+
+_(Richie Goulding, three ladies' hats pinned on his head, appears
+weighted to one side by the black legal bag of Collis and Ward on which
+a skull and crossbones are painted in white limewash. He opens it
+and shows it full of polonies, kippered herrings, Findon haddies and
+tightpacked pills.)_
+
+RICHIE: Best value in Dub.
+
+_(Bald Pat, bothered beetle, stands on the curbstone, folding his
+napkin, waiting to wait.)_
+
+PAT: _(Advances with a tilted dish of spillspilling gravy)_ Steak and
+kidney. Bottle of lager. Hee hee hee. Wait till I wait.
+
+RICHIE: Goodgod. Inev erate inall...
+
+_(With hanging head he marches doggedly forward. The navvy, lurching by,
+gores him with his flaming pronghorn.)_
+
+RICHIE: _(With a cry of pain, his hand to his back)_ Ah! Bright's!
+Lights!
+
+BLOOM: _(Ooints to the navvy)_ A spy. Don't attract attention. I hate
+stupid crowds. I am not on pleasure bent. I am in a grave predicament.
+
+MRS BREEN: Humbugging and deluthering as per usual with your cock and
+bull story.
+
+BLOOM: I want to tell you a little secret about how I came to be here.
+But you must never tell. Not even Molly. I have a most particular
+reason.
+
+MRS BREEN: _(All agog)_ O, not for worlds.
+
+BLOOM: Let's walk on. Shall us?
+
+MRS BREEN: Let's.
+
+_(The bawd makes an unheeded sign. Bloom walks on with Mrs Breen. The
+terrier follows, whining piteously, wagging his tail.)_
+
+THE BAWD: Jewman's melt!
+
+BLOOM: _(In an oatmeal sporting suit, a sprig of woodbine in the lapel,
+tony buff shirt, shepherd's plaid Saint Andrew's cross scarftie, white
+spats, fawn dustcoat on his arm, tawny red brogues, fieldglasses in
+bandolier and a grey billycock hat)_ Do you remember a long long time,
+years and years ago, just after Milly, Marionette we called her, was
+weaned when we all went together to Fairyhouse races, was it?
+
+MRS BREEN: _(In smart Saxe tailormade, white velours hat and spider
+veil)_ Leopardstown.
+
+BLOOM: I mean, Leopardstown. And Molly won seven shillings on a three
+year old named Nevertell and coming home along by Foxrock in that old
+fiveseater shanderadan of a waggonette you were in your heyday then and
+you had on that new hat of white velours with a surround of molefur that
+Mrs Hayes advised you to buy because it was marked down to nineteen and
+eleven, a bit of wire and an old rag of velveteen, and I'll lay you what
+you like she did it on purpose...
+
+MRS BREEN: She did, of course, the cat! Don't tell me! Nice adviser!
+
+BLOOM: Because it didn't suit you one quarter as well as the other ducky
+little tammy toque with the bird of paradise wing in it that I admired
+on you and you honestly looked just too fetching in it though it was a
+pity to kill it, you cruel naughty creature, little mite of a thing with
+a heart the size of a fullstop.
+
+MRS BREEN: _(Squeezes his arm, simpers)_ Naughty cruel I was!
+
+BLOOM: _(Low, secretly, ever more rapidly)_ And Molly was eating a
+sandwich of spiced beef out of Mrs Joe Gallaher's lunch basket. Frankly,
+though she had her advisers or admirers, I never cared much for her
+style. She was...
+
+MRS BREEN: Too...
+
+BLOOM: Yes. And Molly was laughing because Rogers and Maggot O'Reilly
+were mimicking a cock as we passed a farmhouse and Marcus Tertius Moses,
+the tea merchant, drove past us in a gig with his daughter, Dancer Moses
+was her name, and the poodle in her lap bridled up and you asked me if I
+ever heard or read or knew or came across...
+
+MRS BREEN: _(Eagerly)_ Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.
+
+_(She fades from his side. Followed by the whining dog he walks on
+towards hellsgates. In an archway a standing woman, bent forward, her
+feet apart, pisses cowily. Outside a shuttered pub a bunch of loiterers
+listen to a tale which their brokensnouted gaffer rasps out with raucous
+humour. An armless pair of them flop wrestling, growling, in maimed
+sodden playfight.)_
+
+THE GAFFER: _(Crouches, his voice twisted in his snout)_ And when Cairns
+came down from the scaffolding in Beaver street what was he after doing
+it into only into the bucket of porter that was there waiting on the
+shavings for Derwan's plasterers.
+
+THE LOITERERS: _(Guffaw with cleft palates)_ O jays!
+
+_(Their paintspeckled hats wag. Spattered with size and lime of their
+lodges they frisk limblessly about him.)_
+
+BLOOM: Coincidence too. They think it funny. Anything but that. Broad
+daylight. Trying to walk. Lucky no woman.
+
+THE LOITERERS: Jays, that's a good one. Glauber salts. O jays, into the
+men's porter.
+
+_(Bloom passes. Cheap whores, singly, coupled, shawled, dishevelled,
+call from lanes, doors, corners.)_
+
+THE WHORES:
+
+ Are you going far, queer fellow?
+ How's your middle leg?
+ Got a match on you?
+ Eh, come here till I stiffen it for you.
+
+
+_(He plodges through their sump towards the lighted street beyond. From
+a bulge of window curtains a gramophone rears a battered brazen trunk.
+In the shadow a shebeenkeeper haggles with the navvy and the two
+redcoats.)_
+
+THE NAVVY: _(Belching)_ Where's the bloody house?
+
+THE SHEBEENKEEPER: Purdon street. Shilling a bottle of stout.
+Respectable woman.
+
+THE NAVVY: _(Gripping the two redcoats, staggers forward with them)_
+Come on, you British army!
+
+PRIVATE CARR: _(Behind his back)_ He aint half balmy.
+
+PRIVATE COMPTON: _(Laughs)_ What ho!
+
+PRIVATE CARR: _(To the navvy)_ Portobello barracks canteen. You ask for
+Carr. Just Carr.
+
+THE NAVVY: _(Shouts)_
+
+We are the boys. Of Wexford.
+
+PRIVATE COMPTON: Say! What price the sergeantmajor?
+
+PRIVATE CARR: Bennett? He's my pal. I love old Bennett.
+
+THE NAVVY: _(Shouts)_
+
+ The galling chain.
+ And free our native land.
+
+_(He staggers forward, dragging them with him. Bloom stops, at fault.
+The dog approaches, his tongue outlolling, panting)_
+
+BLOOM: Wildgoose chase this. Disorderly houses. Lord knows where they
+are gone. Drunks cover distance double quick. Nice mixup. Scene at
+Westland row. Then jump in first class with third ticket. Then too far.
+Train with engine behind. Might have taken me to Malahide or a siding
+for the night or collision. Second drink does it. Once is a dose. What
+am I following him for? Still, he's the best of that lot. If I hadn't
+heard about Mrs Beaufoy Purefoy I wouldn't have gone and wouldn't have
+met. Kismet. He'll lose that cash. Relieving office here. Good biz for
+cheapjacks, organs. What do ye lack? Soon got, soon gone. Might have
+lost my life too with that mangongwheeltracktrolleyglarejuggernaut only
+for presence of mind. Can't always save you, though. If I had passed
+Truelock's window that day two minutes later would have been shot.
+Absence of body. Still if bullet only went through my coat get damages
+for shock, five hundred pounds. What was he? Kildare street club toff.
+God help his gamekeeper.
+
+_(He gazes ahead, reading on the wall a scrawled chalk legend_ Wet Dream
+_and a phallic design._) Odd! Molly drawing on the frosted carriagepane
+at Kingstown. What's that like? _(Gaudy dollwomen loll in the lighted
+doorways, in window embrasures, smoking birdseye cigarettes. The
+odour of the sicksweet weed floats towards him in slow round ovalling
+wreaths.)_
+
+THE WREATHS: Sweet are the sweets. Sweets of sin.
+
+BLOOM: My spine's a bit limp. Go or turn? And this food? Eat it and get
+all pigsticky. Absurd I am. Waste of money. One and eightpence too
+much. _(The retriever drives a cold snivelling muzzle against his hand,
+wagging his tail.)_ Strange how they take to me. Even that brute today.
+Better speak to him first. Like women they like _rencontres._ Stinks
+like a polecat. _Chacun son gout_. He might be mad. Dogdays. Uncertain
+in his movements. Good fellow! Fido! Good fellow! Garryowen! _(The
+wolfdog sprawls on his back, wriggling obscenely with begging paws, his
+long black tongue lolling out.)_ Influence of his surroundings. Give
+and have done with it. Provided nobody. _(Calling encouraging words he
+shambles back with a furtive poacher's tread, dogged by the setter into
+a dark stalestunk corner. He unrolls one parcel and goes to dump the
+crubeen softly but holds back and feels the trotter.)_ Sizeable for
+threepence. But then I have it in my left hand. Calls for more effort.
+Why? Smaller from want of use. O, let it slide. Two and six.
+
+_(With regret he lets the unrolled crubeen and trotter slide. The
+mastiff mauls the bundle clumsily and gluts himself with growling greed,
+crunching the bones. Two raincaped watch approach, silent, vigilant.
+They murmur together.)_
+
+THE WATCH: Bloom. Of Bloom. For Bloom. Bloom.
+
+_(Each lays hand on Bloom's shoulder.)_
+
+FIRST WATCH: Caught in the act. Commit no nuisance.
+
+BLOOM: _(Stammers)_ I am doing good to others.
+
+_(A covey of gulls, storm petrels, rises hungrily from Liffey slime with
+Banbury cakes in their beaks.)_
+
+THE GULLS: Kaw kave kankury kake.
+
+BLOOM: The friend of man. Trained by kindness.
+
+_(He points. Bob Doran, toppling from a high barstool, sways over the
+munching spaniel.)_
+
+BOB DORAN: Towser. Give us the paw. Give the paw.
+
+_(The bulldog growls, his scruff standing, a gobbet of pig's knuckle
+between his molars through which rabid scumspittle dribbles. Bob Doran
+fills silently into an area.)_
+
+SECOND WATCH: Prevention of cruelty to animals.
+
+BLOOM: _(Enthusiastically)_ A noble work! I scolded that tramdriver on
+Harold's cross bridge for illusing the poor horse with his harness scab.
+Bad French I got for my pains. Of course it was frosty and the last
+tram. All tales of circus life are highly demoralising.
+
+_(Signor Maffei, passionpale, in liontamer's costume with diamond studs
+in his shirtfront, steps forward, holding a circus paperhoop, a
+curling carriagewhip and a revolver with which he covers the gorging
+boarhound.)_
+
+SIGNOR MAFFEI: _(With a sinister smile)_ Ladies and gentlemen, my
+educated greyhound. It was I broke in the bucking broncho Ajax with my
+patent spiked saddle for carnivores. Lash under the belly with a knotted
+thong. Block tackle and a strangling pulley will bring your lion to
+heel, no matter how fractious, even _Leo ferox_ there, the Libyan
+maneater. A redhot crowbar and some liniment rubbing on the burning part
+produced Fritz of Amsterdam, the thinking hyena. _(He glares)_ I possess
+the Indian sign. The glint of my eye does it with these breastsparklers.
+_(With a bewitching smile)_ I now introduce Mademoiselle Ruby, the pride
+of the ring.
+
+FIRST WATCH: Come. Name and address.
+
+BLOOM: I have forgotten for the moment. Ah, yes! _(He takes off his high
+grade hat, saluting)_ Dr Bloom, Leopold, dental surgeon. You have heard
+of von Blum Pasha. Umpteen millions. _Donnerwetter!_ Owns half Austria.
+Egypt. Cousin.
+
+FIRST WATCH: Proof.
+
+_(A card falls from inside the leather headband of Bloom's hat.)_
+
+BLOOM: _(In red fez, cadi's dress coat with broad green sash, wearing
+a false badge of the Legion of Honour, picks up the card hastily and
+offers it)_ Allow me. My club is the Junior Army and Navy. Solicitors:
+Messrs John Henry Menton, 27 Bachelor's Walk.
+
+FIRST WATCH: _(Reads)_ Henry Flower. No fixed abode. Unlawfully watching
+and besetting.
+
+SECOND WATCH: An alibi. You are cautioned.
+
+BLOOM: _(Produces from his heartpocket a crumpled yellow flower)_ This
+is the flower in question. It was given me by a man I don't know his
+name. _(Plausibly)_ You know that old joke, rose of Castile. Bloom. The
+change of name. Virag. _(He murmurs privately and confidentially)_ We
+are engaged you see, sergeant. Lady in the case. Love entanglement. _(He
+shoulders the second watch gently)_ Dash it all. It's a way we gallants
+have in the navy. Uniform that does it. _(He turns gravely to the first
+watch)_ Still, of course, you do get your Waterloo sometimes. Drop in
+some evening and have a glass of old Burgundy. _(To the second watch
+gaily)_ I'll introduce you, inspector. She's game. Do it in the shake of
+a lamb's tail.
+
+_(A dark mercurialised face appears, leading a veiled figure.)_
+
+THE DARK MERCURY: The Castle is looking for him. He was drummed out of
+the army.
+
+MARTHA: _(Thickveiled, a crimson halter round her neck, a copy of
+the_ Irish Times _in her hand, in tone of reproach, pointing)_ Henry!
+Leopold! Lionel, thou lost one! Clear my name.
+
+FIRST WATCH: _(Sternly)_ Come to the station.
+
+BLOOM: _(Scared, hats himself, steps back, then, plucking at his heart
+and lifting his right forearm on the square, he gives the sign and
+dueguard of fellowcraft)_ No, no, worshipful master, light of love.
+Mistaken identity. The Lyons mail. Lesurques and Dubosc. You remember
+the Childs fratricide case. We medical men. By striking him dead with
+a hatchet. I am wrongfully accused. Better one guilty escape than
+ninetynine wrongfully condemned.
+
+MARTHA: _(Sobbing behind her veil)_ Breach of promise. My real name
+is Peggy Griffin. He wrote to me that he was miserable. I'll tell my
+brother, the Bective rugger fullback, on you, heartless flirt.
+
+BLOOM: _(Behind his hand)_ She's drunk. The woman is inebriated. _(He
+murmurs vaguely the pass of Ephraim)_ Shitbroleeth.
+
+SECOND WATCH: _(Tears in his eyes, to Bloom)_ You ought to be thoroughly
+well ashamed of yourself.
+
+BLOOM: Gentlemen of the jury, let me explain. A pure mare's nest. I am
+a man misunderstood. I am being made a scapegoat of. I am a respectable
+married man, without a stain on my character. I live in Eccles street.
+My wife, I am the daughter of a most distinguished commander, a gallant
+upstanding gentleman, what do you call him, Majorgeneral Brian Tweedy,
+one of Britain's fighting men who helped to win our battles. Got his
+majority for the heroic defence of Rorke's Drift.
+
+FIRST WATCH: Regiment.
+
+BLOOM: _(Turns to the gallery)_ The royal Dublins, boys, the salt of the
+earth, known the world over. I think I see some old comrades in arms
+up there among you. The R. D. F., with our own Metropolitan police,
+guardians of our homes, the pluckiest lads and the finest body of men,
+as physique, in the service of our sovereign.
+
+A VOICE: Turncoat! Up the Boers! Who booed Joe Chamberlain?
+
+BLOOM: _(His hand on the shoulder of the first watch)_ My old dad too
+was a J. P. I'm as staunch a Britisher as you are, sir. I fought with
+the colours for king and country in the absentminded war under general
+Gough in the park and was disabled at Spion Kop and Bloemfontein, was
+mentioned in dispatches. I did all a white man could. _(With quiet
+feeling)_ Jim Bludso. Hold her nozzle again the bank.
+
+FIRST WATCH: Profession or trade.
+
+BLOOM: Well, I follow a literary occupation, author-journalist. In fact
+we are just bringing out a collection of prize stories of which I am the
+inventor, something that is an entirely new departure. I am connected
+with the British and Irish press. If you ring up...
+
+_(Myles Crawford strides out jerkily, a quill between his teeth. His
+scarlet beak blazes within the aureole of his straw hat. He dangles
+a hank of Spanish onions in one hand and holds with the other hand a
+telephone receiver nozzle to his ear.)_
+
+MYLES CRAWFORD: _(His cock's wattles wagging)_ Hello, seventyseven
+eightfour. Hello. _Freeman's Urinal_ and _Weekly Arsewipe_ here.
+Paralyse Europe. You which? Bluebags? Who writes? Is it Bloom?
+
+_(Mr Philip Beaufoy, palefaced, stands in the witnessbox, in accurate
+morning dress, outbreast pocket with peak of handkerchief showing,
+creased lavender trousers and patent boots. He carries a large portfolio
+labelled_ Matcham's Masterstrokes.)
+
+BEAUFOY: _(Drawls)_ No, you aren't. Not by a long shot if I know it.
+I don't see it that's all. No born gentleman, no-one with the most
+rudimentary promptings of a gentleman would stoop to such particularly
+loathsome conduct. One of those, my lord. A plagiarist. A soapy sneak
+masquerading as a litterateur. It's perfectly obvious that with the most
+inherent baseness he has cribbed some of my bestselling copy, really
+gorgeous stuff, a perfect gem, the love passages in which are beneath
+suspicion. The Beaufoy books of love and great possessions, with which
+your lordship is doubtless familiar, are a household word throughout the
+kingdom.
+
+BLOOM: _(Murmurs with hangdog meekness glum)_ That bit about the
+laughing witch hand in hand I take exception to, if I may...
+
+BEAUFOY: _(His lip upcurled, smiles superciliously on the court)_ You
+funny ass, you! You're too beastly awfully weird for words! I don't
+think you need over excessively disincommodate yourself in that regard.
+My literary agent Mr J. B. Pinker is in attendance. I presume, my
+lord, we shall receive the usual witnesses' fees, shan't we? We are
+considerably out of pocket over this bally pressman johnny, this jackdaw
+of Rheims, who has not even been to a university.
+
+BLOOM: _(Indistinctly)_ University of life. Bad art.
+
+BEAUFOY: _(Shouts)_ It's a damnably foul lie, showing the moral
+rottenness of the man! _(He extends his portfolio)_ We have here damning
+evidence, the _corpus delicti_, my lord, a specimen of my maturer work
+disfigured by the hallmark of the beast.
+
+A VOICE FROM THE GALLERY:
+
+Moses, Moses, king of the jews, Wiped his arse in the Daily News.
+
+BLOOM: _(Bravely)_ Overdrawn.
+
+BEAUFOY: You low cad! You ought to be ducked in the horsepond, you
+rotter! _(To the court)_ Why, look at the man's private life! Leading
+a quadruple existence! Street angel and house devil. Not fit to be
+mentioned in mixed society! The archconspirator of the age!
+
+BLOOM: _(To the court)_ And he, a bachelor, how...
+
+FIRST WATCH: The King versus Bloom. Call the woman Driscoll.
+
+THE CRIER: Mary Driscoll, scullerymaid!
+
+_(Mary Driscoll, a slipshod servant girl, approaches. She has a bucket
+on the crook of her arm and a scouringbrush in her hand.)_
+
+SECOND WATCH: Another! Are you of the unfortunate class?
+
+MARY DRISCOLL: _(Indignantly)_ I'm not a bad one. I bear a respectable
+character and was four months in my last place. I was in a situation,
+six pounds a year and my chances with Fridays out and I had to leave
+owing to his carryings on.
+
+FIRST WATCH: What do you tax him with?
+
+MARY DRISCOLL: He made a certain suggestion but I thought more of myself
+as poor as I am.
+
+BLOOM: _(In housejacket of ripplecloth, flannel trousers, heelless
+slippers, unshaven, his hair rumpled: softly)_ I treated you white.
+I gave you mementos, smart emerald garters far above your station.
+Incautiously I took your part when you were accused of pilfering.
+There's a medium in all things. Play cricket.
+
+MARY DRISCOLL: _(Excitedly)_ As God is looking down on me this night if
+ever I laid a hand to them oysters!
+
+FIRST WATCH: The offence complained of? Did something happen?
+
+MARY DRISCOLL: He surprised me in the rere of the premises, Your honour,
+when the missus was out shopping one morning with a request for a safety
+pin. He held me and I was discoloured in four places as a result. And he
+interfered twict with my clothing.
+
+BLOOM: She counterassaulted.
+
+MARY DRISCOLL: _(Scornfully)_ I had more respect for the scouringbrush,
+so I had. I remonstrated with him, Your lord, and he remarked: keep it
+quiet.
+
+_(General laughter.)_
+
+GEORGE FOTTRELL: _(Clerk of the crown and peace, resonantly)_ Order in
+court! The accused will now make a bogus statement.
+
+_(Bloom, pleading not guilty and holding a fullblown waterlily, begins
+a long unintelligible speech. They would hear what counsel had to say in
+his stirring address to the grand jury. He was down and out but, though
+branded as a black sheep, if he might say so, he meant to reform, to
+retrieve the memory of the past in a purely sisterly way and return to
+nature as a purely domestic animal. A sevenmonths' child, he had been
+carefully brought up and nurtured by an aged bedridden parent. There
+might have been lapses of an erring father but he wanted to turn over
+a new leaf and now, when at long last in sight of the whipping post,
+to lead a homely life in the evening of his days, permeated by the
+affectionate surroundings of the heaving bosom of the family. An
+acclimatised Britisher, he had seen that summer eve from the footplate
+of an engine cab of the Loop line railway company while the rain
+refrained from falling glimpses, as it were, through the windows of
+loveful households in Dublin city and urban district of scenes truly
+rural of happiness of the better land with Dockrell's wallpaper at one
+and ninepence a dozen, innocent Britishborn bairns lisping prayers to
+the Sacred Infant, youthful scholars grappling with their pensums or
+model young ladies playing on the pianoforte or anon all with fervour
+reciting the family rosary round the crackling Yulelog while in the
+boreens and green lanes the colleens with their swains strolled what
+times the strains of the organtoned melodeon Britannia metalbound with
+four acting stops and twelvefold bellows, a sacrifice, greatest bargain
+ever..._
+
+_(Renewed laughter. He mumbles incoherently. Reporters complain that
+they cannot hear.)_
+
+LONGHAND AND SHORTHAND: _(Without looking up from their notebooks)_
+Loosen his boots.
+
+PROFESSOR MACHUGH: _(From the presstable, coughs and calls)_ Cough it
+up, man. Get it out in bits.
+
+_(The crossexamination proceeds re Bloom and the bucket. A large bucket.
+Bloom himself. Bowel trouble. In Beaver street Gripe, yes. Quite bad.
+A plasterer's bucket. By walking stifflegged. Suffered untold misery.
+Deadly agony. About noon. Love or burgundy. Yes, some spinach. Crucial
+moment. He did not look in the bucket Nobody. Rather a mess. Not
+completely._ A Titbits _back number_.)
+
+_(Uproar and catcalls. Bloom in a torn frockcoat stained with whitewash,
+dinged silk hat sideways on his head, a strip of stickingplaster across
+his nose, talks inaudibly.)_
+
+J. J. O'MOLLOY: _(In barrister's grey wig and stuffgown, speaking with
+a voice of pained protest)_ This is no place for indecent levity at
+the expense of an erring mortal disguised in liquor. We are not in a
+beargarden nor at an Oxford rag nor is this a travesty of justice. My
+client is an infant, a poor foreign immigrant who started scratch as
+a stowaway and is now trying to turn an honest penny. The trumped up
+misdemeanour was due to a momentary aberration of heredity, brought on
+by hallucination, such familiarities as the alleged guilty occurrence
+being quite permitted in my client's native place, the land of the
+Pharaoh. _Prima facie_, I put it to you that there was no attempt at
+carnally knowing. Intimacy did not occur and the offence complained of
+by Driscoll, that her virtue was solicited, was not repeated. I would
+deal in especial with atavism. There have been cases of shipwreck and
+somnambulism in my client's family. If the accused could speak he could
+a tale unfold--one of the strangest that have ever been narrated between
+the covers of a book. He himself, my lord, is a physical wreck from
+cobbler's weak chest. His submission is that he is of Mongolian
+extraction and irresponsible for his actions. Not all there, in fact.
+
+BLOOM: _(Barefoot, pigeonbreasted, in lascar's vest and trousers,
+apologetic toes turned in, opens his tiny mole's eyes and looks about
+him dazedly, passing a slow hand across his forehead. Then he hitches
+his belt sailor fashion and with a shrug of oriental obeisance salutes
+the court, pointing one thumb heavenward.)_ Him makee velly muchee fine
+night. _(He begins to lilt simply)_
+
+ Li li poo lil chile
+ Blingee pigfoot evly night
+ Payee two shilly...
+
+_(He is howled down.)_
+
+J. J. O'MOLLOY: _(Hotly to the populace)_ This is a lonehand fight. By
+Hades, I will not have any client of mine gagged and badgered in this
+fashion by a pack of curs and laughing hyenas. The Mosaic code has
+superseded the law of the jungle. I say it and I say it emphatically,
+without wishing for one moment to defeat the ends of justice, accused
+was not accessory before the act and prosecutrix has not been tampered
+with. The young person was treated by defendant as if she were his very
+own daughter. _(Bloom takes J. J. O'Molloy's hand and raises it to his
+lips.)_ I shall call rebutting evidence to prove up to the hilt that the
+hidden hand is again at its old game. When in doubt persecute Bloom. My
+client, an innately bashful man, would be the last man in the world to
+do anything ungentlemanly which injured modesty could object to or
+cast a stone at a girl who took the wrong turning when some dastard,
+responsible for her condition, had worked his own sweet will on her. He
+wants to go straight. I regard him as the whitest man I know. He is down
+on his luck at present owing to the mortgaging of his extensive property
+at Agendath Netaim in faraway Asia Minor, slides of which will now be
+shown. _(To Bloom)_ I suggest that you will do the handsome thing.
+
+BLOOM: A penny in the pound.
+
+_(The image of the lake of Kinnereth with blurred cattle cropping in
+silver haze is projected on the wall. Moses Dlugacz, ferreteyed albino,
+in blue dungarees, stands up in the gallery, holding in each hand an
+orange citron and a pork kidney.)_
+
+DLUGACZ: _(Hoarsely)_ Bleibtreustrasse, Berlin, W.13.
+
+_(J. J. O'Molloy steps on to a low plinth and holds the lapel of his
+coat with solemnity. His face lengthens, grows pale and bearded, with
+sunken eyes, the blotches of phthisis and hectic cheekbones of John F.
+Taylor. He applies his handkerchief to his mouth and scrutinises the
+galloping tide of rosepink blood.)_
+
+J.J.O'MOLLOY: _(Almost voicelessly)_ Excuse me. I am suffering from a
+severe chill, have recently come from a sickbed. A few wellchosen words.
+_(He assumes the avine head, foxy moustache and proboscidal eloquence of
+Seymour Bushe.)_ When the angel's book comes to be opened if aught
+that the pensive bosom has inaugurated of soultransfigured and of
+soultransfiguring deserves to live I say accord the prisoner at the bar
+the sacred benefit of the doubt. _(A paper with something written on it
+is handed into court._)
+
+BLOOM: _(In court dress)_ Can give best references. Messrs Callan,
+Coleman. Mr Wisdom Hely J. P. My old chief Joe Cuffe. Mr V. B. Dillon,
+ex lord mayor of Dublin. I have moved in the charmed circle of the
+highest... Queens of Dublin society. _(Carelessly)_ I was just chatting
+this afternoon at the viceregal lodge to my old pals, sir Robert and
+lady Ball, astronomer royal at the levee. Sir Bob, I said...
+
+MRS YELVERTON BARRY: _(In lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength
+ivory gloves, wearing a sabletrimmed brickquilted dolman, a comb of
+brilliants and panache of osprey in her hair)_ Arrest him, constable. He
+wrote me an anonymous letter in prentice backhand when my husband was
+in the North Riding of Tipperary on the Munster circuit, signed James
+Lovebirch. He said that he had seen from the gods my peerless globes as
+I sat in a box of the _Theatre Royal_ at a command performance of _La
+Cigale_. I deeply inflamed him, he said. He made improper overtures
+to me to misconduct myself at half past four p.m. on the following
+Thursday, Dunsink time. He offered to send me through the post a work
+of fiction by Monsieur Paul de Kock, entitled _The Girl with the Three
+Pairs of Stays_.
+
+MRS BELLINGHAM: _(In cap and seal coney mantle, wrapped up to the
+nose, steps out of her brougham and scans through tortoiseshell
+quizzing-glasses which she takes from inside her huge opossum muff)_
+Also to me. Yes, I believe it is the same objectionable person. Because
+he closed my carriage door outside sir Thornley Stoker's one sleety day
+during the cold snap of February ninetythree when even the grid of the
+wastepipe and the ballstop in my bath cistern were frozen. Subsequently
+he enclosed a bloom of edelweiss culled on the heights, as he said,
+in my honour. I had it examined by a botanical expert and elicited the
+information that it was ablossom of the homegrown potato plant purloined
+from a forcingcase of the model farm.
+
+MRS YELVERTON BARRY: Shame on him!
+
+_(A crowd of sluts and ragamuffins surges forward)_
+
+THE SLUTS AND RAGAMUFFINS: _(Screaming)_ Stop thief! Hurrah there,
+Bluebeard! Three cheers for Ikey Mo!
+
+SECOND WATCH: _(Produces handcuffs)_ Here are the darbies.
+
+MRS BELLINGHAM: He addressed me in several handwritings with fulsome
+compliments as a Venus in furs and alleged profound pity for my
+frostbound coachman Palmer while in the same breath he expressed himself
+as envious of his earflaps and fleecy sheepskins and of his fortunate
+proximity to my person, when standing behind my chair wearing my livery
+and the armorial bearings of the Bellingham escutcheon garnished sable,
+a buck's head couped or. He lauded almost extravagantly my nether
+extremities, my swelling calves in silk hose drawn up to the limit, and
+eulogised glowingly my other hidden treasures in priceless lace which,
+he said, he could conjure up. He urged me (stating that he felt it
+his mission in life to urge me) to defile the marriage bed, to commit
+adultery at the earliest possible opportunity.
+
+THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: _(In amazon costume, hard hat,
+jackboots cockspurred, vermilion waistcoat, fawn musketeer gauntlets
+with braided drums, long train held up and hunting crop with which she
+strikes her welt constantly)_ Also me. Because he saw me on the polo
+ground of the Phoenix park at the match All Ireland versus the Rest of
+Ireland. My eyes, I know, shone divinely as I watched Captain Slogger
+Dennehy of the Inniskillings win the final chukkar on his darling cob
+_Centaur._ This plebeian Don Juan observed me from behind a hackney car
+and sent me in double envelopes an obscene photograph, such as are sold
+after dark on Paris boulevards, insulting to any lady. I have it still.
+It represents a partially nude señorita, frail and lovely (his wife, as
+he solemnly assured me, taken by him from nature), practising illicit
+intercourse with a muscular torero, evidently a blackguard. He urged me
+to do likewise, to misbehave, to sin with officers of the garrison. He
+implored me to soil his letter in an unspeakable manner, to chastise
+him as he richly deserves, to bestride and ride him, to give him a most
+vicious horsewhipping.
+
+MRS BELLINGHAM: Me too.
+
+MRS YELVERTON BARRY: Me too.
+
+_(Several highly respectable Dublin ladies hold up improper letters
+received from Bloom.)_
+
+THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: _(Stamps her jingling spurs in a
+sudden paroxysm of fury)_ I will, by the God above me. I'll scourge the
+pigeonlivered cur as long as I can stand over him. I'll flay him alive.
+
+BLOOM: _(His eyes closing, quails expectantly)_ Here? _(He squirms)_
+Again! _(He pants cringing)_ I love the danger.
+
+THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: Very much so! I'll make it hot for
+you. I'll make you dance Jack Latten for that.
+
+MRS BELLINGHAM: Tan his breech well, the upstart! Write the stars and
+stripes on it!
+
+MRS YELVERTON BARRY: Disgraceful! There's no excuse for him! A married
+man!
+
+BLOOM: All these people. I meant only the spanking idea. A warm tingling
+glow without effusion. Refined birching to stimulate the circulation.
+
+THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: _(Laughs derisively)_ O, did you, my
+fine fellow? Well, by the living God, you'll get the surprise of your
+life now, believe me, the most unmerciful hiding a man ever bargained
+for. You have lashed the dormant tigress in my nature into fury.
+
+MRS BELLINGHAM: _(Shakes her muff and quizzing-glasses vindictively)_
+Make him smart, Hanna dear. Give him ginger. Thrash the mongrel within
+an inch of his life. The cat-o'-nine-tails. Geld him. Vivisect him.
+
+BLOOM: _(Shuddering, shrinking, joins his hands: with hangdog mien)_ O
+cold! O shivery! It was your ambrosial beauty. Forget, forgive. Kismet.
+Let me off this once. _(He offers the other cheek)_
+
+MRS YELVERTON BARRY: _(Severely)_ Don't do so on any account, Mrs
+Talboys! He should be soundly trounced!
+
+THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: _(Unbuttoning her gauntlet
+violently)_ I'll do no such thing. Pigdog and always was ever since
+he was pupped! To dare address me! I'll flog him black and blue in
+the public streets. I'll dig my spurs in him up to the rowel. He is a
+wellknown cuckold. _(She swishes her huntingcrop savagely in the air)_
+Take down his trousers without loss of time. Come here, sir! Quick!
+Ready?
+
+BLOOM: _(Trembling, beginning to obey)_ The weather has been so warm.
+
+_(Davy Stephens, ringletted, passes with a bevy of barefoot newsboys.)_
+
+DAVY STEPHENS: _Messenger of the Sacred Heart and Evening Telegraph_
+with Saint Patrick's Day supplement. Containing the new addresses of all
+the cuckolds in Dublin.
+
+_(The very reverend Canon O'Hanlon in cloth of gold cope elevates and
+exposes a marble timepiece. Before him Father Conroy and the reverend
+John Hughes S.J. bend low.)_
+
+THE TIMEPIECE: _(Unportalling)_
+
+ Cuckoo.
+ Cuckoo.
+ Cuckoo.
+
+_(The brass quoits of a bed are heard to jingle.)_
+
+THE QUOITS: Jigjag. Jigajiga. Jigjag.
+
+_(A panel of fog rolls back rapidly, revealing rapidly in the jurybox
+the faces of Martin Cunningham, foreman, silkhatted, Jack Power, Simon
+Dedalus, Tom Kernan, Ned Lambert, John Henry Menton Myles Crawford,
+Lenehan, Paddy Leonard, Nosey Flynn, M'Coy and the featureless face of a
+Nameless One.)_
+
+THE NAMELESS ONE: Bareback riding. Weight for age. Gob, he organised
+her.
+
+THE JURORS: _(All their heads turned to his voice)_ Really?
+
+THE NAMELESS ONE: _(Snarls)_ Arse over tip. Hundred shillings to five.
+
+THE JURORS: _(All their heads lowered in assent)_ Most of us thought as
+much.
+
+FIRST WATCH: He is a marked man. Another girl's plait cut. Wanted: Jack
+the Ripper. A thousand pounds reward.
+
+SECOND WATCH: _(Awed, whispers)_ And in black. A mormon. Anarchist.
+
+THE CRIER: _(Loudly)_ Whereas Leopold Bloom of no fixed abode is a
+wellknown dynamitard, forger, bigamist, bawd and cuckold and a public
+nuisance to the citizens of Dublin and whereas at this commission of
+assizes the most honourable...
+
+_(His Honour, sir Frederick Falkiner, recorder of Dublin, in judicial
+garb of grey stone rises from the bench, stonebearded. He bears in his
+arms an umbrella sceptre. From his forehead arise starkly the Mosaic
+ramshorns.)_
+
+THE RECORDER: I will put an end to this white slave traffic and rid
+Dublin of this odious pest. Scandalous! _(He dons the black cap)_ Let
+him be taken, Mr Subsheriff, from the dock where he now stands and
+detained in custody in Mountjoy prison during His Majesty's pleasure
+and there be hanged by the neck until he is dead and therein fail not
+at your peril or may the Lord have mercy on your soul. Remove him. _(A
+black skullcap descends upon his head.)_
+
+_(The subsheriff Long John Fanning appears, smoking a pungent Henry
+Clay.)_
+
+LONG JOHN FANNING: _(Scowls and calls with rich rolling utterance)_
+Who'll hang Judas Iscariot?
+
+_(H. Rumbold, master barber, in a bloodcoloured jerkin and tanner's
+apron, a rope coiled over his shoulder, mounts the block. A life
+preserver and a nailstudded bludgeon are stuck in his belt. He rubs
+grimly his grappling hands, knobbed with knuckledusters.)_
+
+RUMBOLD: _(To the recorder with sinister familiarity)_ Hanging Harry,
+your Majesty, the Mersey terror. Five guineas a jugular. Neck or
+nothing.
+
+_(The bells of George's church toll slowly, loud dark iron.)_
+
+THE BELLS: Heigho! Heigho!
+
+BLOOM: _(Desperately)_ Wait. Stop. Gulls. Good heart. I saw. Innocence.
+Girl in the monkeyhouse. Zoo. Lewd chimpanzee. _(Breathlessly)_ Pelvic
+basin. Her artless blush unmanned me. _(Overcome with emotion)_ I left
+the precincts. (He turns to a figure in the crowd, appealing) Hynes, may
+I speak to you? You know me. That three shillings you can keep. If you
+want a little more...
+
+HYNES: _(Coldly)_ You are a perfect stranger.
+
+SECOND WATCH: _(Points to the corner)_ The bomb is here.
+
+FIRST WATCH: Infernal machine with a time fuse.
+
+BLOOM: No, no. Pig's feet. I was at a funeral.
+
+FIRST WATCH: _(Draws his truncheon)_ Liar!
+
+_(The beagle lifts his snout, showing the grey scorbutic face of Paddy
+Dignam. He has gnawed all. He exhales a putrid carcasefed breath.
+He grows to human size and shape. His dachshund coat becomes a brown
+mortuary habit. His green eye flashes bloodshot. Half of one ear, all
+the nose and both thumbs are ghouleaten.)_
+
+PADDY DIGNAM: _(In a hollow voice)_ It is true. It was my funeral.
+Doctor Finucane pronounced life extinct when I succumbed to the disease
+from natural causes.
+
+_(He lifts his mutilated ashen face moonwards and bays lugubriously.)_
+
+BLOOM: _(In triumph)_ You hear?
+
+PADDY DIGNAM: Bloom, I am Paddy Dignam's spirit. List, list, O list!
+
+BLOOM: The voice is the voice of Esau.
+
+SECOND WATCH: _(Blesses himself)_ How is that possible?
+
+FIRST WATCH: It is not in the penny catechism.
+
+PADDY DIGNAM: By metempsychosis. Spooks.
+
+A VOICE: O rocks.
+
+PADDY DIGNAM: _(Earnestly)_ Once I was in the employ of Mr J. H. Menton,
+solicitor, commissioner for oaths and affidavits, of 27 Bachelor's Walk.
+Now I am defunct, the wall of the heart hypertrophied. Hard lines. The
+poor wife was awfully cut up. How is she bearing it? Keep her off that
+bottle of sherry. _(He looks round him)_ A lamp. I must satisfy an
+animal need. That buttermilk didn't agree with me.
+
+_(The portly figure of John O'Connell, caretaker, stands forth, holding
+a bunch of keys tied with crape. Beside him stands Father Coffey,
+chaplain, toadbellied, wrynecked, in a surplice and bandanna nightcap,
+holding sleepily a staff twisted poppies.)_
+
+FATHER COFFEY: _(Yawns, then chants with a hoarse croak)_ Namine.
+Jacobs. Vobiscuits. Amen.
+
+JOHN O'CONNELL: _(Foghorns stormily through his megaphone)_ Dignam,
+Patrick T, deceased.
+
+PADDY DIGNAM: _(With pricked up ears, winces)_ Overtones. _(He wriggles
+forward and places an ear to the ground)_ My master's voice!
+
+JOHN O'CONNELL: Burial docket letter number U. P. eightyfive thousand.
+Field seventeen. House of Keys. Plot, one hundred and one.
+
+_(Paddy Dignam listens with visible effort, thinking, his tail
+stiffpointcd, his ears cocked.)_
+
+PADDY DIGNAM: Pray for the repose of his soul.
+
+_(He worms down through a coalhole, his brown habit trailing its tether
+over rattling pebbles. After him toddles an obese grandfather rat on
+fungus turtle paws under a grey carapace. Dignam's voice, muffled, is
+heard baying under ground:_ Dignam's dead and gone below. _Tom Rochford,
+robinredbreasted, in cap and breeches, jumps from his twocolumned
+machine.)_
+
+TOM ROCHFORD: _(A hand to his breastbone, bows)_ Reuben J. A florin I
+find him. _(He fixes the manhole with a resolute stare)_ My turn now on.
+Follow me up to Carlow.
+
+_(He executes a daredevil salmon leap in the air and is engulfed in the
+coalhole. Two discs on the columns wobble, eyes of nought. All recedes.
+Bloom plodges forward again through the sump. Kisses chirp amid
+the rifts of fog a piano sounds. He stands before a lighted house,
+listening. The kisses, winging from their bowers fly about him,
+twittering, warbling, cooing.)_
+
+THE KISSES: _(Warbling)_ Leo! _(Twittering)_ Icky licky micky sticky for
+Leo! _(Cooing)_ Coo coocoo! Yummyyum, Womwom! _(Warbling)_ Big comebig!
+Pirouette! Leopopold! _(Twittering)_ Leeolee! _(Warbling)_ O Leo!
+
+_(They rustle, flutter upon his garments, alight, bright giddy flecks,
+silvery sequins.)_
+
+BLOOM: A man's touch. Sad music. Church music. Perhaps here.
+
+_(Zoe Higgins, a young whore in a sapphire slip, closed with three
+bronze buckles, a slim black velvet fillet round her throat, nods, trips
+down the steps and accosts him.)_
+
+ZOE: Are you looking for someone? He's inside with his friend.
+
+BLOOM: Is this Mrs Mack's?
+
+ZOE: No, eightyone. Mrs Cohen's. You might go farther and fare worse.
+Mother Slipperslapper. _(Familiarly)_ She's on the job herself tonight
+with the vet her tipster that gives her all the winners and pays for
+her son in Oxford. Working overtime but her luck's turned today.
+_(Suspiciously)_ You're not his father, are you?
+
+BLOOM: Not I!
+
+ZOE: You both in black. Has little mousey any tickles tonight?
+
+_(His skin, alert, feels her fingertips approach. A hand glides over his
+left thigh.)_
+
+ZOE: How's the nuts?
+
+BLOOM: Off side. Curiously they are on the right. Heavier, I suppose.
+One in a million my tailor, Mesias, says.
+
+ZOE: _(In sudden alarm)_ You've a hard chancre.
+
+BLOOM: Not likely.
+
+ZOE: I feel it.
+
+_(Her hand slides into his left trouser pocket and brings out a hard
+black shrivelled potato. She regards it and Bloom with dumb moist
+lips.)_
+
+BLOOM: A talisman. Heirloom.
+
+ZOE: For Zoe? For keeps? For being so nice, eh?
+
+_(She puts the potato greedily into a pocket then links his arm,
+cuddling him with supple warmth. He smiles uneasily. Slowly, note by
+note, oriental music is played. He gazes in the tawny crystal of her
+eyes, ringed with kohol. His smile softens.)_
+
+ZOE: You'll know me the next time.
+
+BLOOM: _(Forlornly)_ I never loved a dear gazelle but it was sure to...
+
+_(Gazelles are leaping, feeding on the mountains. Near are lakes. Round
+their shores file shadows black of cedargroves. Aroma rises, a strong
+hairgrowth of resin. It burns, the orient, a sky of sapphire, cleft by
+the bronze flight of eagles. Under it lies the womancity nude, white,
+still, cool, in luxury. A fountain murmurs among damask roses. Mammoth
+roses murmur of scarlet winegrapes. A wine of shame, lust, blood exudes,
+strangely murmuring.)_
+
+ZOE: _(Murmuring singsong with the music, her odalisk lips lusciously
+smeared with salve of swinefat and rosewater) Schorach ani wenowach,
+benoith Hierushaloim._
+
+BLOOM: _(Fascinated)_ I thought you were of good stock by your accent.
+
+ZOE: And you know what thought did?
+
+_(She bites his ear gently with little goldstopped teeth, sending on
+him a cloying breath of stale garlic. The roses draw apart, disclose a
+sepulchre of the gold of kings and their mouldering bones.)_
+
+BLOOM: _(Draws back, mechanically caressing her right bub with a flat
+awkward hand)_ Are you a Dublin girl?
+
+ZOE: _(Catches a stray hair deftly and twists it to her coil)_ No bloody
+fear. I'm English. Have you a swaggerroot?
+
+BLOOM: _(As before)_ Rarely smoke, dear. Cigar now and then. Childish
+device. _(Lewdly)_ The mouth can be better engaged than with a cylinder
+of rank weed.
+
+ZOE: Go on. Make a stump speech out of it.
+
+BLOOM: _(In workman's corduroy overalls, black gansy with red floating
+tie and apache cap)_ Mankind is incorrigible. Sir Walter Ralegh brought
+from the new world that potato and that weed, the one a killer of
+pestilence by absorption, the other a poisoner of the ear, eye, heart,
+memory, will understanding, all. That is to say he brought the poison
+a hundred years before another person whose name I forget brought the
+food. Suicide. Lies. All our habits. Why, look at our public life!
+
+_(Midnight chimes from distant steeples.)_
+
+THE CHIMES: Turn again, Leopold! Lord mayor of Dublin!
+
+BLOOM: _(In alderman's gown and chain)_ Electors of Arran Quay, Inns
+Quay, Rotunda, Mountjoy and North Dock, better run a tramline, I say,
+from the cattlemarket to the river. That's the music of the future.
+That's my programme. _Cui bono_? But our bucaneering Vanderdeckens in
+their phantom ship of finance...
+
+AN ELECTOR: Three times three for our future chief magistrate!
+
+_(The aurora borealis of the torchlight procession leaps.)_
+
+THE TORCHBEARERS: Hooray!
+
+_(Several wellknown burgesses, city magnates and freemen of the city
+shake hands with Bloom and congratulate him. Timothy Harrington, late
+thrice Lord Mayor of Dublin, imposing in mayoral scarlet, gold chain and
+white silk tie, confers with councillor Lorcan Sherlock, locum tenens.
+They nod vigorously in agreement.)_
+
+LATE LORD MAYOR HARRINGTON: _(In scarlet robe with mace, gold mayoral
+chain and large white silk scarf)_ That alderman sir Leo Bloom's speech
+be printed at the expense of the ratepayers. That the house in which
+he was born be ornamented with a commemorative tablet and that the
+thoroughfare hitherto known as Cow Parlour off Cork street be henceforth
+designated Boulevard Bloom.
+
+COUNCILLOR LORCAN SHERLOCK: Carried unanimously.
+
+BLOOM: _(Impassionedly)_ These flying Dutchmen or lying Dutchmen as
+they recline in their upholstered poop, casting dice, what reck they?
+Machines is their cry, their chimera, their panacea. Laboursaving
+apparatuses, supplanters, bugbears, manufactured monsters for mutual
+murder, hideous hobgoblins produced by a horde of capitalistic lusts
+upon our prostituted labour. The poor man starves while they are
+grassing their royal mountain stags or shooting peasants and phartridges
+in their purblind pomp of pelf and power. But their reign is rover for
+rever and ever and ev...
+
+_(Prolonged applause. Venetian masts, maypoles and festal arches spring
+up. A streamer bearing the legends_ Cead Mile Failte _and_ Mah Ttob
+Melek Israel _Spans the street. All the windows are thronged with
+sightseers, chiefly ladies. Along the route the regiments of the
+royal Dublin Fusiliers, the King's own Scottish Borderers, the Cameron
+Highlanders and the Welsh Fusiliers standing to attention, keep back
+the crowd. Boys from High school are perched on the lampposts,
+telegraph poles, windowsills, cornices, gutters, chimneypots, railings,
+rainspouts, whistling and cheering the pillar of the cloud appears. A
+fife and drum band is heard in the distance playing the Kol Nidre. The
+beaters approach with imperial eagles hoisted, trailing banners and
+waving oriental palms. The chryselephantine papal standard rises high,
+surrounded by pennons of the civic flag. The van of the procession
+appears headed by John Howard Parnell, city marshal, in a chessboard
+tabard, the Athlone Poursuivant and Ulster King of Arms. They are
+followed by the Right Honourable Joseph Hutchinson, lord mayor of
+Dublin, his lordship the lord mayor of Cork, their worships the
+mayors of Limerick, Galway, Sligo and Waterford, twentyeight Irish
+representative peers, sirdars, grandees and maharajahs bearing the cloth
+of estate, the Dublin Metropolitan Fire Brigade, the chapter of the
+saints of finance in their plutocratic order of precedence, the bishop
+of Down and Connor, His Eminence Michael cardinal Logue, archbishop of
+Armagh, primate of all Ireland, His Grace, the most reverend Dr William
+Alexander, archbishop of Armagh, primate of all Ireland, the chief
+rabbi, the presbyterian moderator, the heads of the baptist, anabaptist,
+methodist and Moravian chapels and the honorary secretary of the society
+of friends. After them march the guilds and trades and trainbands
+with flying colours: coopers, bird fanciers, millwrights, newspaper
+canvassers, law scriveners, masseurs, vintners, trussmakers,
+chimneysweeps, lard refiners, tabinet and poplin weavers, farriers,
+Italian warehousemen, church decorators, bootjack manufacturers,
+undertakers, silk mercers, lapidaries, salesmasters, corkcutters,
+assessors of fire losses, dyers and cleaners, export bottlers,
+fellmongers, ticketwriters, heraldic seal engravers, horse repository
+hands, bullion brokers, cricket and archery outfitters, riddlemakers,
+egg and potato factors, hosiers and glovers, plumbing contractors. After
+them march gentlemen of the bedchamber, Black Rod, Deputy Garter,
+Gold Stick, the master of horse, the lord great chamberlain, the earl
+marshal, the high constable carrying the sword of state, saint Stephen's
+iron crown, the chalice and bible. Four buglers on foot blow a sennet.
+Beefeaters reply, winding clarions of welcome. Under an arch of triumph
+Bloom appears, bareheaded, in a crimson velvet mantle trimmed with
+ermine, bearing Saint Edward's staff the orb and sceptre with the dove,
+the curtana. He is seated on a milkwhite horse with long flowing crimson
+tail, richly caparisoned, with golden headstall. Wild excitement. The
+ladies from their balconies throw down rosepetals. The air is perfumed
+with essences. The men cheer. Bloom's boys run amid the bystanders with
+branches of hawthorn and wrenbushes.)_
+
+BLOOM'S BOYS:
+
+ The wren, the wren,
+ The king of all birds,
+ Saint Stephen's his day
+ Was caught in the furze.
+
+
+A BLACKSMITH: _(Murmurs)_ For the honour of God! And is that Bloom? He
+scarcely looks thirtyone.
+
+A PAVIOR AND FLAGGER: That's the famous Bloom now, the world's greatest
+reformer. Hats off!
+
+_(All uncover their heads. Women whisper eagerly.)_
+
+A MILLIONAIRESS: _(Richly)_ Isn't he simply wonderful?
+
+A NOBLEWOMAN: _(Nobly)_ All that man has seen!
+
+A FEMINIST: _(Masculinely)_ And done!
+
+A BELLHANGER: A classic face! He has the forehead of a thinker.
+
+_(Bloom's weather. A sunburst appears in the northwest.)_
+
+THE BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR: I here present your undoubted
+emperor-president and king-chairman, the most serene and potent and very
+puissant ruler of this realm. God save Leopold the First!
+
+ALL: God save Leopold the First!
+
+BLOOM: _(In dalmatic and purple mantle, to the bishop of Down and
+Connor, with dignity)_ Thanks, somewhat eminent sir.
+
+WILLIAM, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH: _(In purple stock and shovel hat)_
+Will you to your power cause law and mercy to be executed in all your
+judgments in Ireland and territories thereunto belonging?
+
+BLOOM: _(Placing his right hand on his testicles, swears)_ So may the
+Creator deal with me. All this I promise to do.
+
+MICHAEL, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH: _(Pours a cruse of hairoil over Bloom's
+head) Gaudium magnum annuntio vobis. Habemus carneficem._ Leopold,
+Patrick, Andrew, David, George, be thou anointed!
+
+_(Bloom assumes a mantle of cloth of gold and puts on a ruby ring. He
+ascends and stands on the stone of destiny. The representative peers put
+on at the same time their twentyeight crowns. Joybells ring in Christ
+church, Saint Patrick's, George's and gay Malahide. Mirus bazaar
+fireworks go up from all sides with symbolical phallopyrotechnic
+designs. The peers do homage, one by one, approaching and
+genuflecting.)_
+
+THE PEERS: I do become your liege man of life and limb to earthly
+worship.
+
+_(Bloom holds up his right hand on which sparkles the Koh-i-Noor
+diamond. His palfrey neighs. Immediate silence. Wireless
+intercontinental and interplanetary transmitters are set for reception
+of message.)_
+
+BLOOM: My subjects! We hereby nominate our faithful charger Copula Felix
+hereditary Grand Vizier and announce that we have this day repudiated
+our former spouse and have bestowed our royal hand upon the princess
+Selene, the splendour of night.
+
+_(The former morganatic spouse of Bloom is hastily removed in the Black
+Maria. The princess Selene, in moonblue robes, a silver crescent on her
+head, descends from a Sedan chair, borne by two giants. An outburst of
+cheering.)_
+
+JOHN HOWARD PARNELL: _(Raises the royal standard)_ Illustrious Bloom!
+Successor to my famous brother!
+
+BLOOM: _(Embraces John Howard Parnell)_ We thank you from our heart,
+John, for this right royal welcome to green Erin, the promised land of
+our common ancestors.
+
+_(The freedom of the city is presented to him embodied in a charter. The
+keys of Dublin, crossed on a crimson cushion, are given to him. He shows
+all that he is wearing green socks.)_
+
+TOM KERNAN: You deserve it, your honour.
+
+BLOOM: On this day twenty years ago we overcame the hereditary enemy at
+Ladysmith. Our howitzers and camel swivel guns played on his lines with
+telling effect. Half a league onward! They charge! All is lost now! Do
+we yield? No! We drive them headlong! Lo! We charge! Deploying to the
+left our light horse swept across the heights of Plevna and, uttering
+their warcry _Bonafide Sabaoth_, sabred the Saracen gunners to a man.
+
+THE CHAPEL OF FREEMAN TYPESETTERS: Hear! Hear!
+
+JOHN WYSE NOLAN: There's the man that got away James Stephens.
+
+A BLUECOAT SCHOOLBOY: Bravo!
+
+AN OLD RESIDENT: You're a credit to your country, sir, that's what you
+are.
+
+AN APPLEWOMAN: He's a man like Ireland wants.
+
+BLOOM: My beloved subjects, a new era is about to dawn. I, Bloom, tell
+you verily it is even now at hand. Yea, on the word of a Bloom, ye shall
+ere long enter into the golden city which is to be, the new Bloomusalem
+in the Nova Hibernia of the future.
+
+_(Thirtytwo workmen, wearing rosettes, from all the counties of Ireland,
+under the guidance of Derwan the builder, construct the new Bloomusalem.
+It is a colossal edifice with crystal roof, built in the shape of a
+huge pork kidney, containing forty thousand rooms. In the course of its
+extension several buildings and monuments are demolished. Government
+offices are temporarily transferred to railway sheds. Numerous houses
+are razed to the ground. The inhabitants are lodged in barrels and
+boxes, all marked in red with the letters: L. B. several paupers
+fill from a ladder. A part of the walls of Dublin, crowded with loyal
+sightseers, collapses.)_
+
+THE SIGHTSEERS: _(Dying) Morituri te salutant. (They die)_
+
+_(A man in a brown macintosh springs up through a trapdoor. He points an
+elongated finger at Bloom.)_
+
+THE MAN IN THE MACINTOSH: Don't you believe a word he says. That man is
+Leopold M'Intosh, the notorious fireraiser. His real name is Higgins.
+
+BLOOM: Shoot him! Dog of a christian! So much for M'Intosh!
+
+_(A cannonshot. The man in the macintosh disappears. Bloom with his
+sceptre strikes down poppies. The instantaneous deaths of many
+powerful enemies, graziers, members of parliament, members of standing
+committees, are reported. Bloom's bodyguard distribute Maundy money,
+commemoration medals, loaves and fishes, temperance badges, expensive
+Henry Clay cigars, free cowbones for soup, rubber preservatives in
+sealed envelopes tied with gold thread, butter scotch, pineapple rock,_
+billets doux _in the form of cocked hats, readymade suits, porringers
+of toad in the hole, bottles of Jeyes' Fluid, purchase stamps, 40 days'
+indulgences, spurious coins, dairyfed pork sausages, theatre passes,
+season tickets available for all tramlines, coupons of the royal and
+privileged Hungarian lottery, penny dinner counters, cheap reprints of
+the World's Twelve Worst Books: Froggy And Fritz (politic), Care of the
+Baby (infantilic), 50 Meals for 7/6 (culinic), Was Jesus a Sun Myth?
+(historic), Expel that Pain (medic), Infant's Compendium of the
+Universe (cosmic), Let's All Chortle (hilaric), Canvasser's Vade Mecum
+(journalic), Loveletters of Mother Assistant (erotic), Who's Who in
+Space (astric), Songs that Reached Our Heart (melodic), Pennywise's Way
+to Wealth (parsimonic). A general rush and scramble. Women press forward
+to touch the hem of Bloom's robe. The Lady Gwendolen Dubedat bursts
+through the throng, leaps on his horse and kisses him on both cheeks
+amid great acclamation. A magnesium flashlight photograph is taken.
+Babes and sucklings are held up.)_
+
+THE WOMEN: Little father! Little father!
+
+THE BABES AND SUCKLINGS:
+
+ Clap clap hands till Poldy comes home,
+ Cakes in his pocket for Leo alone.
+
+
+_(Bloom, bending down, pokes Baby Boardman gently in the stomach.)_
+
+BABY BOARDMAN: _(Hiccups, curdled milk flowing from his mouth)_
+Hajajaja.
+
+BLOOM: _(Shaking hands with a blind stripling)_ My more than Brother!
+_(Placing his arms round the shoulders of an old couple)_ Dear old
+friends! _(He plays pussy fourcorners with ragged boys and girls)_
+Peep! Bopeep! _(He wheels twins in a perambulator)_ Ticktacktwo
+wouldyousetashoe? _(He performs juggler's tricks, draws red, orange,
+yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet silk handkerchiefs from his
+mouth)_ Roygbiv. 32 feet per second. _(He consoles a widow)_ Absence
+makes the heart grow younger. _(He dances the Highland fling with
+grotesque antics)_ Leg it, ye devils! _(He kisses the bedsores of a
+palsied veteran_) Honourable wounds! _(He trips up a fit policeman)_
+U. p: up. U. p: up. _(He whispers in the ear of a blushing waitress and
+laughs kindly)_ Ah, naughty, naughty! _(He eats a raw turnip offered
+him by Maurice Butterly, farmer)_ Fine! Splendid! _(He refuses to
+accept three shillings offered him by Joseph Hynes, journalist)_ My dear
+fellow, not at all! (He gives his coat to a beggar) Please accept. _(He
+takes part in a stomach race with elderly male and female cripples)_
+Come on, boys! Wriggle it, girls!
+
+THE CITIZEN: _(Choked with emotion, brushes aside a tear in his emerald
+muffler)_ May the good God bless him!
+
+_(The rams' horns sound for silence. The standard of Zion is hoisted.)_
+
+BLOOM: _(Uncloaks impressively, revealing obesity, unrolls a paper and
+reads solemnly)_ Aleph Beth Ghimel Daleth Hagadah Tephilim Kosher Yom
+Kippur Hanukah Roschaschana Beni Brith Bar Mitzvah Mazzoth Askenazim
+Meshuggah Talith.
+
+_(An official translation is read by Jimmy Henry, assistant town
+clerk.)_
+
+JIMMY HENRY: The Court of Conscience is now open. His Most Catholic
+Majesty will now administer open air justice. Free medical and legal
+advice, solution of doubles and other problems. All cordially invited.
+Given at this our loyal city of Dublin in the year I of the Paradisiacal
+Era.
+
+PADDY LEONARD: What am I to do about my rates and taxes?
+
+BLOOM: Pay them, my friend.
+
+PADDY LEONARD: Thank you.
+
+NOSEY FLYNN: Can I raise a mortgage on my fire insurance?
+
+BLOOM: _(Obdurately)_ Sirs, take notice that by the law of torts you are
+bound over in your own recognisances for six months in the sum of five
+pounds.
+
+J. J. O'MOLLOY: A Daniel did I say? Nay! A Peter O'Brien!
+
+NOSEY FLYNN: Where do I draw the five pounds?
+
+PISSER BURKE: For bladder trouble?
+
+BLOOM:
+
+ _Acid. nit. hydrochlor. dil.,_ 20 minims
+ _Tinct. nux vom.,_ 5 minims
+ _Extr. taraxel. iiq.,_ 30 minims.
+ _Aq. dis. ter in die._
+
+CHRIS CALLINAN: What is the parallax of the subsolar ecliptic of
+Aldebaran?
+
+BLOOM: Pleased to hear from you, Chris. K. II.
+
+JOE HYNES: Why aren't you in uniform?
+
+BLOOM: When my progenitor of sainted memory wore the uniform of the
+Austrian despot in a dank prison where was yours?
+
+BEN DOLLARD: Pansies?
+
+BLOOM: Embellish (beautify) suburban gardens.
+
+BEN DOLLARD: When twins arrive?
+
+BLOOM: Father (pater, dad) starts thinking.
+
+LARRY O'ROURKE: An eightday licence for my new premises. You remember
+me, sir Leo, when you were in number seven. I'm sending around a dozen
+of stout for the missus.
+
+BLOOM: _(Coldly)_ You have the advantage of me. Lady Bloom accepts no
+presents.
+
+CROFTON: This is indeed a festivity.
+
+BLOOM: _(Solemnly)_ You call it a festivity. I call it a sacrament.
+
+ALEXANDER KEYES: When will we have our own house of keys?
+
+BLOOM: I stand for the reform of municipal morals and the plain ten
+commandments. New worlds for old. Union of all, jew, moslem and gentile.
+Three acres and a cow for all children of nature. Saloon motor hearses.
+Compulsory manual labour for all. All parks open to the public day and
+night. Electric dishscrubbers. Tuberculosis, lunacy, war and mendicancy
+must now cease. General amnesty, weekly carnival with masked licence,
+bonuses for all, esperanto the universal language with universal
+brotherhood. No more patriotism of barspongers and dropsical impostors.
+Free money, free rent, free love and a free lay church in a free lay
+state.
+
+O'MADDEN BURKE: Free fox in a free henroost.
+
+DAVY BYRNE: _(Yawning)_ Iiiiiiiiiaaaaaaach!
+
+BLOOM: Mixed races and mixed marriage.
+
+LENEHAN: What about mixed bathing?
+
+_(bloom explains to those near him his schemes for social regeneration.
+All agree with him. The keeper of the Kildare Street Museum appears,
+dragging a lorry on which are the shaking statues of several naked
+goddesses, Venus Callipyge, Venus Pandemos, Venus Metempsychosis, and
+plaster figures, also naked, representing the new nine muses, Commerce,
+Operatic Music, Amor, Publicity, Manufacture, Liberty of Speech, Plural
+Voting, Gastronomy, Private Hygiene, Seaside Concert Entertainments,
+Painless Obstetrics and Astronomy for the People.)_
+
+FATHER FARLEY: He is an episcopalian, an agnostic, an anythingarian
+seeking to overthrow our holy faith.
+
+MRS RIORDAN: _(Tears up her will)_ I'm disappointed in you! You bad man!
+
+MOTHER GROGAN: _(Removes her boot to throw it at Bloom)_ You beast! You
+abominable person!
+
+NOSEY FLYNN: Give us a tune, Bloom. One of the old sweet songs.
+
+BLOOM: _(With rollicking humour)_
+
+ I vowed that I never would leave her,
+ She turned out a cruel deceiver.
+ With my tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom.
+
+HOPPY HOLOHAN: Good old Bloom! There's nobody like him after all.
+
+PADDY LEONARD: Stage Irishman!
+
+BLOOM: What railway opera is like a tramline in Gibraltar? The Rows of
+Casteele._(Laughter.)_
+
+LENEHAN: Plagiarist! Down with Bloom!
+
+THE VEILED SIBYL: _(Enthusiastically)_ I'm a Bloomite and I glory in it.
+I believe in him in spite of all. I'd give my life for him, the funniest
+man on earth.
+
+BLOOM: _(Winks at the bystanders)_ I bet she's a bonny lassie.
+
+THEODORE PUREFOY: _(In fishingcap and oilskin jacket)_ He employs a
+mechanical device to frustrate the sacred ends of nature.
+
+THE VEILED SIBYL: _(Stabs herself)_ My hero god! _(She dies)_
+
+_(Many most attractive and enthusiastic women also commit suicide by
+stabbing, drowning, drinking prussic acid, aconite, arsenic, opening
+their veins, refusing food, casting themselves under steamrollers, from
+the top of Nelson's Pillar, into the great vat of Guinness's brewery,
+asphyxiating themselves by placing their heads in gasovens, hanging
+themselves in stylish garters, leaping from windows of different
+storeys.)_
+
+ALEXANDER J DOWIE: _(Violently)_ Fellowchristians and antiBloomites, the
+man called Bloom is from the roots of hell, a disgrace to christian
+men. A fiendish libertine from his earliest years this stinking goat
+of Mendes gave precocious signs of infantile debauchery, recalling the
+cities of the plain, with a dissolute granddam. This vile hypocrite,
+bronzed with infamy, is the white bull mentioned in the Apocalypse.
+A worshipper of the Scarlet Woman, intrigue is the very breath of his
+nostrils. The stake faggots and the caldron of boiling oil are for him.
+Caliban!
+
+THE MOB: Lynch him! Roast him! He's as bad as Parnell was. Mr Fox!
+
+_(Mother Grogan throws her boot at Bloom. Several shopkeepers from upper
+and lower Dorset street throw objects of little or no commercial value,
+hambones, condensed milk tins, unsaleable cabbage, stale bread, sheep's
+tails, odd pieces of fat.)_
+
+BLOOM: _(Excitedly)_ This is midsummer madness, some ghastly joke again.
+By heaven, I am guiltless as the unsunned snow! It was my brother Henry.
+He is my double. He lives in number 2 Dolphin's Barn. Slander, the
+viper, has wrongfully accused me. Fellowcountrymen, _sgenl inn ban bata
+coisde gan capall._ I call on my old friend, Dr Malachi Mulligan, sex
+specialist, to give medical testimony on my behalf.
+
+DR MULLIGAN: _(In motor jerkin, green motorgoggles on his brow)_ Dr
+Bloom is bisexually abnormal. He has recently escaped from Dr Eustace's
+private asylum for demented gentlemen. Born out of bedlock hereditary
+epilepsy is present, the consequence of unbridled lust. Traces of
+elephantiasis have been discovered among his ascendants. There are
+marked symptoms of chronic exhibitionism. Ambidexterity is also
+latent. He is prematurely bald from selfabuse, perversely idealistic in
+consequence, a reformed rake, and has metal teeth. In consequence of a
+family complex he has temporarily lost his memory and I believe him
+to be more sinned against than sinning. I have made a pervaginal
+examination and, after application of the acid test to 5427 anal,
+axillary, pectoral and pubic hairs, I declare him to be _virgo intacta._
+
+_(Bloom holds his high grade hat over his genital organs.)_
+
+DR MADDEN: Hypsospadia is also marked. In the interest of coming
+generations I suggest that the parts affected should be preserved in
+spirits of wine in the national teratological museum.
+
+DR CROTTHERS: I have examined the patient's urine. It is albuminoid.
+Salivation is insufficient, the patellar reflex intermittent.
+
+DR PUNCH COSTELLO: The _fetor judaicus_ is most perceptible.
+
+DR DIXON: _(Reads a bill of health)_ Professor Bloom is a finished
+example of the new womanly man. His moral nature is simple and lovable.
+Many have found him a dear man, a dear person. He is a rather quaint
+fellow on the whole, coy though not feebleminded in the medical sense.
+He has written a really beautiful letter, a poem in itself, to the court
+missionary of the Reformed Priests' Protection Society which clears up
+everything. He is practically a total abstainer and I can affirm that
+he sleeps on a straw litter and eats the most Spartan food, cold dried
+grocer's peas. He wears a hairshirt of pure Irish manufacture winter and
+summer and scourges himself every Saturday. He was, I understand, at one
+time a firstclass misdemeanant in Glencree reformatory. Another report
+states that he was a very posthumous child. I appeal for clemency in the
+name of the most sacred word our vocal organs have ever been called upon
+to speak. He is about to have a baby.
+
+_(General commotion and compassion. Women faint. A wealthy American
+makes a street collection for Bloom. Gold and silver coins, blank
+cheques, banknotes, jewels, treasury bonds, maturing bills of exchange,
+I. O. U's, wedding rings, watchchains, lockets, necklaces and bracelets
+are rapidly collected.)_
+
+BLOOM: O, I so want to be a mother.
+
+MRS THORNTON: _(In nursetender's gown)_ Embrace me tight, dear. You'll
+be soon over it. Tight, dear.
+
+_(Bloom embraces her tightly and bears eight male yellow and white
+children. They appear on a redcarpeted staircase adorned with expensive
+plants. All the octuplets are handsome, with valuable metallic faces,
+wellmade, respectably dressed and wellconducted, speaking five modern
+languages fluently and interested in various arts and sciences. Each
+has his name printed in legible letters on his shirtfront: Nasodoro,
+Goldfinger, Chrysostomos, Maindoree, Silversmile, Silberselber,
+Vifargent, Panargyros. They are immediately appointed to positions of
+high public trust in several different countries as managing directors
+of banks, traffic managers of railways, chairmen of limited liability
+companies, vicechairmen of hotel syndicates.)_
+
+A VOICE: Bloom, are you the Messiah ben Joseph or ben David?
+
+BLOOM: _(Darkly)_ You have said it.
+
+BROTHER BUZZ: Then perform a miracle like Father Charles.
+
+BANTAM LYONS: Prophesy who will win the Saint Leger.
+
+_(Bloom walks on a net, covers his left eye with his left ear, passes
+through several walls, climbs Nelson's Pillar, hangs from the top ledge
+by his eyelids, eats twelve dozen oysters (shells included), heals
+several sufferers from king's evil, contracts his face so as to resemble
+many historical personages, Lord Beaconsfield, Lord Byron, Wat Tyler,
+Moses of Egypt, Moses Maimonides, Moses Mendelssohn, Henry Irving, Rip
+van Winkle, Kossuth, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Baron Leopold Rothschild,
+Robinson Crusoe, Sherlock Holmes, Pasteur, turns each foot
+simultaneously in different directions, bids the tide turn back,
+eclipses the sun by extending his little finger.)_
+
+BRINI, PAPAL NUNCIO: _(In papal zouave's uniform, steel cuirasses as
+breastplate, armplates, thighplates, legplates, large profane moustaches
+and brown paper mitre) Leopoldi autem generatio._ Moses begat Noah
+and Noah begat Eunuch and Eunuch begat O'Halloran and O'Halloran begat
+Guggenheim and Guggenheim begat Agendath and Agendath begat Netaim and
+Netaim begat Le Hirsch and Le Hirsch begat Jesurum and Jesurum begat
+MacKay and MacKay begat Ostrolopsky and Ostrolopsky begat Smerdoz
+and Smerdoz begat Weiss and Weiss begat Schwarz and Schwarz begat
+Adrianopoli and Adrianopoli begat Aranjuez and Aranjuez begat Lewy
+Lawson and Lewy Lawson begat Ichabudonosor and Ichabudonosor begat
+O'Donnell Magnus and O'Donnell Magnus begat Christbaum and Christbaum
+begat ben Maimun and ben Maimun begat Dusty Rhodes and Dusty Rhodes
+begat Benamor and Benamor begat Jones-Smith and Jones-Smith begat
+Savorgnanovich and Savorgnanovich begat Jasperstone and Jasperstone
+begat Vingtetunieme and Vingtetunieme begat Szombathely and Szombathely
+begat Virag and Virag begat Bloom _et vocabitur nomen eius Emmanuel._
+
+A DEADHAND: _(Writes on the wall)_ Bloom is a cod.
+
+CRAB: _(In bushranger's kit)_ What did you do in the cattlecreep behind
+Kilbarrack?
+
+A FEMALE INFANT: _(Shakes a rattle)_ And under Ballybough bridge?
+
+A HOLLYBUSH: And in the devil's glen?
+
+BLOOM: _(Blushes furiously all over from frons to nates, three tears
+filling from his left eye)_ Spare my past.
+
+THE IRISH EVICTED TENANTS: _(In bodycoats, kneebreeches, with Donnybrook
+fair shillelaghs)_ Sjambok him!
+
+_(Bloom with asses' ears seats himself in the pillory with crossed arms,
+his feet protruding. He whistles_ Don Giovanni, a cenar teco. _Artane
+orphans, joining hands, caper round him. Girls of the Prison Gate
+Mission, joining hands, caper round in the opposite direction.)_
+
+THE ARTANE ORPHANS:
+
+ You hig, you hog, you dirty dog!
+ You think the ladies love you!
+ THE PRISON GATE GIRLS:
+
+
+ If you see Kay
+ Tell him he may
+ See you in tea
+ Tell him from me.
+
+HORNBLOWER: _(In ephod and huntingcap, announces)_ And he shall carry
+the sins of the people to Azazel, the spirit which is in the wilderness,
+and to Lilith, the nighthag. And they shall stone him and defile him,
+yea, all from Agendath Netaim and from Mizraim, the land of Ham.
+
+_(All the people cast soft pantomime stones at Bloom. Many bonafide
+travellers and ownerless dogs come near him and defile him. Mastiansky
+and Citron approach in gaberdines, wearing long earlocks. They wag their
+beards at Bloom.)_
+
+MASTIANSKY AND CITRON: Belial! Laemlein of Istria, the false Messiah!
+Abulafia! Recant!
+
+_(George R Mesias, Bloom's tailor, appears, a tailor's goose under his
+arm, presenting a bill)_
+
+MESIAS: To alteration one pair trousers eleven shillings.
+
+BLOOM: _(Rubs his hands cheerfully)_ Just like old times. Poor Bloom!
+
+_(Reuben J Dodd, blackbearded iscariot, bad shepherd, bearing on his
+shoulders the drowned corpse of his son, approaches the pillory.)_
+
+REUBEN J: _(Whispers hoarsely)_ The squeak is out. A split is gone for
+the flatties. Nip the first rattler.
+
+THE FIRE BRIGADE: Pflaap!
+
+BROTHER BUZZ: _(Invests Bloom in a yellow habit with embroidery of
+painted flames and high pointed hat. He places a bag of gunpowder round
+his neck and hands him over to the civil power, saying)_ Forgive him his
+trespasses.
+
+_(Lieutenant Myers of the Dublin Fire Brigade by general request sets
+fire to Bloom. Lamentations.)_
+
+THE CITIZEN: Thank heaven!
+
+BLOOM: _(In a seamless garment marked I. H. S. stands upright amid
+phoenix flames)_ Weep not for me, O daughters of Erin.
+
+_(He exhibits to Dublin reporters traces of burning. The daughters of
+Erin, in black garments, with large prayerbooks and long lighted candles
+in their hands, kneel down and pray.)_
+
+THE DAUGHTERS OF ERIN:
+
+ Kidney of Bloom, pray for us
+ Flower of the Bath, pray for us
+ Mentor of Menton, pray for us
+ Canvasser for the Freeman, pray for us
+ Charitable Mason, pray for us
+ Wandering Soap, pray for us
+ Sweets of Sin, pray for us
+ Music without Words, pray for us
+ Reprover of the Citizen, pray for us
+ Friend of all Frillies, pray for us
+ Midwife Most Merciful, pray for us
+ Potato Preservative against Plague and Pestilence, pray for us.
+
+_(A choir of six hundred voices, conducted by Vincent O'brien, sings
+the chorus from Handel's Messiah alleluia for the lord god omnipotent
+reigneth, accompanied on the organ by Joseph Glynn. Bloom becomes mute,
+shrunken, carbonised.)_
+
+
+ZOE: Talk away till you're black in the face.
+
+BLOOM: _(In caubeen with clay pipe stuck in the band, dusty brogues, an
+emigrant's red handkerchief bundle in his hand, leading a black bogoak
+pig by a sugaun, with a smile in his eye)_ Let me be going now, woman of
+the house, for by all the goats in Connemara I'm after having the
+father and mother of a bating. _(With a tear in his eye)_ All insanity.
+Patriotism, sorrow for the dead, music, future of the race. To be or not
+to be. Life's dream is o'er. End it peacefully. They can live on. _(He
+gazes far away mournfully)_ I am ruined. A few pastilles of aconite. The
+blinds drawn. A letter. Then lie back to rest. _(He breathes softly)_ No
+more. I have lived. Fare. Farewell.
+
+ZOE: _(Stiffly, her finger in her neckfillet)_ Honest? Till the next
+time. _(She sneers)_ Suppose you got up the wrong side of the bed or
+came too quick with your best girl. O, I can read your thoughts!
+
+BLOOM: _(Bitterly)_ Man and woman, love, what is it? A cork and bottle.
+I'm sick of it. Let everything rip.
+
+ZOE: _(In sudden sulks)_ I hate a rotter that's insincere. Give a
+bleeding whore a chance.
+
+BLOOM: _(Repentantly)_ I am very disagreeable. You are a necessary evil.
+Where are you from? London?
+
+ZOE: _(Glibly)_ Hog's Norton where the pigs plays the organs. I'm
+Yorkshire born. _(She holds his hand which is feeling for her nipple)_
+I say, Tommy Tittlemouse. Stop that and begin worse. Have you cash for a
+short time? Ten shillings?
+
+BLOOM: _(Smiles, nods slowly)_ More, houri, more.
+
+ZOE: And more's mother? _(She pats him offhandedly with velvet paws)_
+Are you coming into the musicroom to see our new pianola? Come and I'll
+peel off.
+
+BLOOM: _(Feeling his occiput dubiously with the unparalleled
+embarrassment of a harassed pedlar gauging the symmetry of her peeled
+pears)_ Somebody would be dreadfully jealous if she knew. The greeneyed
+monster. _(Earnestly)_ You know how difficult it is. I needn't tell you.
+
+ZOE: _(Flattered)_ What the eye can't see the heart can't grieve for.
+_(She pats him)_ Come.
+
+BLOOM: Laughing witch! The hand that rocks the cradle.
+
+ZOE: Babby!
+
+BLOOM: _(In babylinen and pelisse, bigheaded, with a caul of dark hair,
+fixes big eyes on her fluid slip and counts its bronze buckles with a
+chubby finger, his moist tongue lolling and lisping)_ One two tlee: tlee
+tlwo tlone.
+
+THE BUCKLES: Love me. Love me not. Love me.
+
+ZOE: Silent means consent. _(With little parted talons she captures his
+hand, her forefinger giving to his palm the passtouch of secret monitor,
+luring him to doom.)_ Hot hands cold gizzard.
+
+_(He hesitates amid scents, music, temptations. She leads him towards
+the steps, drawing him by the odour of her armpits, the vice of her
+painted eyes, the rustle of her slip in whose sinuous folds lurks the
+lion reek of all the male brutes that have possessed her.)_
+
+THE MALE BRUTES: _(Exhaling sulphur of rut and dung and ramping in their
+loosebox, faintly roaring, their drugged heads swaying to and fro)_
+Good!
+
+_(Zoe and Bloom reach the doorway where two sister whores are seated.
+They examine him curiously from under their pencilled brows and smile to
+his hasty bow. He trips awkwardly.)_
+
+ZOE: _(Her lucky hand instantly saving him)_ Hoopsa! Don't fall
+upstairs.
+
+BLOOM: The just man falls seven times. _(He stands aside at the
+threshold)_ After you is good manners.
+
+ZOE: Ladies first, gentlemen after.
+
+_(She crosses the threshold. He hesitates. She turns and, holding out
+her hands, draws him over. He hops. On the antlered rack of the hall
+hang a man 's hat and waterproof. Bloom uncovers himself but, seeing
+them, frowns, then smiles, preoccupied. A door on the return landing is
+flung open. A man in purple shirt and grey trousers, brownsocked, passes
+with an ape's gait, his bald head and goatee beard upheld, hugging a
+full waterjugjar, his twotailed black braces dangling at heels. Averting
+his face quickly Bloom bends to examine on the halltable the spaniel
+eyes of a running fox: then, his lifted head sniffing, follows Zoe
+into the musicroom. A shade of mauve tissuepaper dims the light of the
+chandelier. Round and round a moth flies, colliding, escaping. The
+floor is covered with an oilcloth mosaic of jade and azure and cinnabar
+rhomboids. Footmarks are stamped over it in all senses, heel to heel,
+heel to hollow, toe to toe, feet locked, a morris of shuffling feet
+without body phantoms, all in a scrimmage higgledypiggledy. The walls
+are tapestried with a paper of yewfronds and clear glades. In the grate
+is spread a screen of peacock feathers. Lynch squats crosslegged on
+the hearthrug of matted hair, his cap back to the front. With a wand he
+beats time slowly. Kitty Ricketts, a bony pallid whore in navy costume,
+doeskin gloves rolled back from a coral wristlet, a chain purse in
+her hand, sits perched on the edge of the table swinging her leg and
+glancing at herself in the gilt mirror over the mantelpiece. A tag
+of her corsetlace hangs slightly below her jacket. Lynch indicates
+mockingly the couple at the piano.)_
+
+KITTY: _(Coughs behind her hand)_ She's a bit imbecillic. _(She signs
+with a waggling forefinger)_ Blemblem. _(Lynch lifts up her skirt and
+white petticoat with his wand she settles them down quickly.)_ Respect
+yourself. _(She hiccups, then bends quickly her sailor hat under which
+her hair glows, red with henna)_ O, excuse!
+
+ZOE: More limelight, Charley. _(She goes to the chandelier and turns the
+gas full cock)_
+
+KITTY: _(Peers at the gasjet)_ What ails it tonight?
+
+LYNCH: _(Deeply)_ Enter a ghost and hobgoblins.
+
+ZOE: Clap on the back for Zoe.
+
+_(The wand in Lynch's hand flashes: a brass poker. Stephen stands at
+the pianola on which sprawl his hat and ashplant. With two fingers he
+repeats once more the series of empty fifths. Florry Talbot, a blond
+feeble goosefat whore in a tatterdemalion gown of mildewed strawberry,
+lolls spreadeagle in the sofacorner, her limp forearm pendent over the
+bolster, listening. A heavy stye droops over her sleepy eyelid.)_
+
+KITTY: _(Hiccups again with a kick of her horsed foot)_ O, excuse!
+
+ZOE: _(Promptly)_ Your boy's thinking of you. Tie a knot on your shift.
+
+_(Kitty Ricketts bends her head. Her boa uncoils, slides, glides over
+her shoulder, back, arm, chair to the ground. Lynch lifts the curled
+caterpillar on his wand. She snakes her neck, nestling. Stephen glances
+behind at the squatted figure with its cap back to the front.)_
+
+STEPHEN: As a matter of fact it is of no importance whether Benedetto
+Marcello found it or made it. The rite is the poet's rest. It may be an
+old hymn to Demeter or also illustrate _Coela enarrant gloriam Domini._
+It is susceptible of nodes or modes as far apart as hyperphrygian and
+mixolydian and of texts so divergent as priests haihooping round David's
+that is Circe's or what am I saying Ceres' altar and David's tip
+from the stable to his chief bassoonist about the alrightness of his
+almightiness. _Mais nom de nom,_ that is another pair of trousers.
+_Jetez la gourme. Faut que jeunesse se passe. (He stops, points at
+Lynch's cap, smiles, laughs)_ Which side is your knowledge bump?
+
+THE CAP: _(With saturnine spleen)_ Bah! It is because it is. Woman's
+reason. Jewgreek is greekjew. Extremes meet. Death is the highest form
+of life. Bah!
+
+STEPHEN: You remember fairly accurately all my errors, boasts, mistakes.
+How long shall I continue to close my eyes to disloyalty? Whetstone!
+
+THE CAP: Bah!
+
+STEPHEN: Here's another for you. _(He frowns)_ The reason is because
+the fundamental and the dominant are separated by the greatest possible
+interval which...
+
+THE CAP: Which? Finish. You can't.
+
+STEPHEN: _(With an effort)_ Interval which. Is the greatest possible
+ellipse. Consistent with. The ultimate return. The octave. Which.
+
+THE CAP: Which?
+
+_(Outside the gramophone begins to blare_ The Holy City.)
+
+STEPHEN: _(Abruptly)_ What went forth to the ends of the world to
+traverse not itself, God, the sun, Shakespeare, a commercial traveller,
+having itself traversed in reality itself becomes that self. Wait a
+moment. Wait a second. Damn that fellow's noise in the street. Self
+which it itself was ineluctably preconditioned to become. _Ecco!_
+
+LYNCH: _(With a mocking whinny of laughter grins at Bloom and Zoe
+Higgins)_ What a learned speech, eh?
+
+ZOE: _(Briskly)_ God help your head, he knows more than you have
+forgotten.
+
+_(With obese stupidity Florry Talbot regards Stephen.)_
+
+FLORRY: They say the last day is coming this summer.
+
+KITTY: No!
+
+ZOE: _(Explodes in laughter)_ Great unjust God!
+
+FLORRY: _(Offended)_ Well, it was in the papers about Antichrist. O, my
+foot's tickling.
+
+_(Ragged barefoot newsboys, jogging a wagtail kite, patter past,
+yelling.)_
+
+THE NEWSBOYS: Stop press edition. Result of the rockinghorse races. Sea
+serpent in the royal canal. Safe arrival of Antichrist.
+
+_(Stephen turns and sees Bloom.)_
+
+STEPHEN: A time, times and half a time.
+
+_(Reuben I Antichrist, wandering jew, a clutching hand open on his
+spine, stumps forward. Across his loins is slung a pilgrim's wallet from
+which protrude promissory notes and dishonoured bills. Aloft over his
+shoulder he bears a long boatpole from the hook of which the sodden
+huddled mass of his only son, saved from Liffey waters, hangs from
+the slack of its breeches. A hobgoblin in the image of Punch Costello,
+hipshot, crookbacked, hydrocephalic, prognathic with receding forehead
+and Ally Sloper nose, tumbles in somersaults through the gathering
+darkness.)_
+
+ALL: What?
+
+THE HOBGOBLIN: _(His jaws chattering, capers to and fro, goggling his
+eyes, squeaking, kangaroohopping with outstretched clutching arms, then
+all at once thrusts his lipless face through the fork of his thighs) Il
+vient! C'est moi! L'homme qui rit! L'homme primigene! (He whirls round
+and round with dervish howls) Sieurs et dames, faites vos jeux! (He
+crouches juggling. Tiny roulette planets fly from his hands.) Les jeux
+sont faits! (The planets rush together, uttering crepitant cracks) Rien
+va plus! (The planets, buoyant balloons, sail swollen up and away. He
+springs off into vacuum.)_
+
+FLORRY: _(Sinking into torpor, crossing herself secretly)_ The end of
+the world!
+
+_(A female tepid effluvium leaks out from her. Nebulous obscurity
+occupies space. Through the drifting fog without the gramophone blares
+over coughs and feetshuffling.)_
+
+THE GRAMOPHONE: Jerusalem!
+
+Open your gates and sing
+
+Hosanna...
+
+_(A rocket rushes up the sky and bursts. A white star fills from it,
+proclaiming the consummation of all things and second coming of Elijah.
+Along an infinite invisible tightrope taut from zenith to nadir the End
+of the World, a twoheaded octopus in gillie's kilts, busby and tartan
+filibegs, whirls through the murk, head over heels, in the form of the
+Three Legs of Man.)_
+
+THE END OF THE WORLD: _(with a Scotch accent)_ Wha'll dance the keel
+row, the keel row, the keel row?
+
+_(Over the possing drift and choking breathcoughs, Elijah's voice, harsh
+as a corncrake's, jars on high. Perspiring in a loose lawn surplice with
+funnel sleeves he is seen, vergerfaced, above a rostrum about which the
+banner of old glory is draped. He thumps the parapet.)_
+
+ELIJAH: No yapping, if you please, in this booth. Jake Crane, Creole
+Sue, Dove Campbell, Abe Kirschner, do your coughing with your mouths
+shut. Say, I am operating all this trunk line. Boys, do it now. God's
+time is 12.25. Tell mother you'll be there. Rush your order and you play
+a slick ace. Join on right here. Book through to eternity junction, the
+nonstop run. Just one word more. Are you a god or a doggone clod? If the
+second advent came to Coney Island are we ready? Florry Christ, Stephen
+Christ, Zoe Christ, Bloom Christ, Kitty Christ, Lynch Christ, it's up to
+you to sense that cosmic force. Have we cold feet about the cosmos?
+No. Be on the side of the angels. Be a prism. You have that something
+within, the higher self. You can rub shoulders with a Jesus, a Gautama,
+an Ingersoll. Are you all in this vibration? I say you are. You once
+nobble that, congregation, and a buck joyride to heaven becomes a back
+number. You got me? It's a lifebrightener, sure. The hottest stuff ever
+was. It's the whole pie with jam in. It's just the cutest snappiest line
+out. It is immense, supersumptuous. It restores. It vibrates. I know
+and I am some vibrator. Joking apart and, getting down to bedrock, A.
+J. Christ Dowie and the harmonial philosophy, have you got that? O. K.
+Seventyseven west sixtyninth street. Got me? That's it. You call me up
+by sunphone any old time. Bumboosers, save your stamps. _(He shouts)_
+Now then our glory song. All join heartily in the singing. Encore! _(He
+sings)_ Jeru...
+
+THE GRAMOPHONE: _(Drowning his voice)_ Whorusalaminyourhighhohhhh...
+_(The disc rasps gratingly against the needle)_
+
+THE THREE WHORES: _(Covering their ears, squawk)_ Ahhkkk!
+
+ELIJAH: _(In rolledup shirtsleeves, black in the face, shouts at the top
+of his voice, his arms uplifted)_ Big Brother up there, Mr President,
+you hear what I done just been saying to you. Certainly, I sort of
+believe strong in you, Mr President. I certainly am thinking now Miss
+Higgins and Miss Ricketts got religion way inside them. Certainly seems
+to me I don't never see no wusser scared female than the way you been,
+Miss Florry, just now as I done seed you. Mr President, you come long
+and help me save our sisters dear. _(He winks at his audience)_ Our Mr
+President, he twig the whole lot and he aint saying nothing.
+
+KITTY-KATE: I forgot myself. In a weak moment I erred and did what I did
+on Constitution hill. I was confirmed by the bishop and enrolled in
+the brown scapular. My mother's sister married a Montmorency. It was a
+working plumber was my ruination when I was pure.
+
+ZOE-FANNY: I let him larrup it into me for the fun of it.
+
+FLORRY-TERESA: It was in consequence of a portwine beverage on top of
+Hennessy's three star. I was guilty with Whelan when he slipped into the
+bed.
+
+STEPHEN: In the beginning was the word, in the end the world without
+end. Blessed be the eight beatitudes.
+
+_(The beatitudes, Dixon, Madden, Crotthers, Costello, Lenehan, Bannon,
+Mulligan and Lynch in white surgical students' gowns, four abreast,
+goosestepping, tramp fist past in noisy marching)_
+
+THE BEATITUDES: _(Incoherently)_ Beer beef battledog buybull businum
+barnum buggerum bishop.
+
+LYSTER: _(In quakergrey kneebreeches and broadbrimmed hat, says
+discreetly)_ He is our friend. I need not mention names. Seek thou the
+light.
+
+_(He corantos by. Best enters in hairdresser's attire, shinily
+laundered, his locks in curlpapers. He leads John Eglinton who wears a
+mandarin's kimono of Nankeen yellow, lizardlettered, and a high pagoda
+hat.)_
+
+BEST: _(Smiling, lifts the hat and displays a shaven poll from the crown
+of which bristles a pigtail toupee tied with an orange topknot)_ I was
+just beautifying him, don't you know. A thing of beauty, don't you know,
+Yeats says, or I mean, Keats says.
+
+JOHN EGLINTON: _(Produces a greencapped dark lantern and flashes it
+towards a corner: with carping accent)_ Esthetics and cosmetics are for
+the boudoir. I am out for truth. Plain truth for a plain man. Tanderagee
+wants the facts and means to get them.
+
+_(In the cone of the searchlight behind the coalscuttle, ollave,
+holyeyed, the bearded figure of Mananaun Maclir broods, chin on knees.
+He rises slowly. A cold seawind blows from his druid mouth. About his
+head writhe eels and elvers. He is encrusted with weeds and shells. His
+right hand holds a bicycle pump. His left hand grasps a huge crayfish by
+its two talons.)_
+
+MANANAUN MACLIR: _(With a voice of waves)_ Aum! Hek! Wal! Ak! Lub! Mor!
+Ma! White yoghin of the gods. Occult pimander of Hermes Trismegistos.
+_(With a voice of whistling seawind)_ Punarjanam patsypunjaub! I won't
+have my leg pulled. It has been said by one: beware the left, the cult
+of Shakti. _(With a cry of stormbirds)_ Shakti Shiva, darkhidden Father!
+_(He smites with his bicycle pump the crayfish in his left hand. On its
+cooperative dial glow the twelve signs of the zodiac. He wails with
+the vehemence of the ocean.)_ Aum! Baum! Pyjaum! I am the light of the
+homestead! I am the dreamery creamery butter.
+
+_(A skeleton judashand strangles the light. The green light wanes to
+mauve. The gasjet wails whistling.)_
+
+THE GASJET: Pooah! Pfuiiiiiii!
+
+_(Zoe runs to the chandelier and, crooking her leg, adjusts the
+mantle.)_
+
+ZOE: Who has a fag as I'm here?
+
+LYNCH: _(Tossing a cigarette on to the table)_ Here.
+
+ZOE: _(Her head perched aside in mock pride)_ Is that the way to hand
+the _pot_ to a lady? _(She stretches up to light the cigarette over the
+flame, twirling it slowly, showing the brown tufts of her armpits. Lynch
+with his poker lifts boldly a side of her slip. Bare from her garters up
+her flesh appears under the sapphire a nixie's green. She puffs calmly
+at her cigarette.)_ Can you see the beautyspot of my behind?
+
+LYNCH: I'm not looking
+
+ZOE: _(Makes sheep's eyes)_ No? You wouldn't do a less thing. Would you
+suck a lemon?
+
+_(Squinting in mock shame she glances with sidelong meaning at Bloom,
+then twists round towards him, pulling her slip free of the poker. Blue
+fluid again flows over her flesh. Bloom stands, smiling desirously,
+twirling his thumbs. Kitty Ricketts licks her middle finger with her
+spittle and, gazing in the mirror, smooths both eyebrows. Lipoti Virag,
+basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through the chimneyflue and struts
+two steps to the left on gawky pink stilts. He is sausaged into several
+overcoats and wears a brown macintosh under which he holds a roll of
+parchment. In his left eye flashes the monocle of Cashel Boyle O'connor
+Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell. On his head is perched an Egyptian pshent.
+Two quills project over his ears.)_
+
+VIRAG: _(Heels together, bows)_ My name is Virag Lipoti, of Szombathely.
+_(He coughs thoughtfully, drily)_ Promiscuous nakedness is much in
+evidence hereabouts, eh? Inadvertently her backview revealed the fact
+that she is not wearing those rather intimate garments of which you
+are a particular devotee. The injection mark on the thigh I hope you
+perceived? Good.
+
+BLOOM: Granpapachi. But...
+
+VIRAG: Number two on the other hand, she of the cherry rouge and
+coiffeuse white, whose hair owes not a little to our tribal elixir of
+gopherwood, is in walking costume and tightly staysed by her sit, I
+should opine. Backbone in front, so to say. Correct me but I always
+understood that the act so performed by skittish humans with glimpses of
+lingerie appealed to you in virtue of its exhibitionististicicity. In a
+word. Hippogriff. Am I right?
+
+BLOOM: She is rather lean.
+
+VIRAG: _(Not unpleasantly)_ Absolutely! Well observed and those pannier
+pockets of the skirt and slightly pegtop effect are devised to suggest
+bunchiness of hip. A new purchase at some monster sale for which a gull
+has been mulcted. Meretricious finery to deceive the eye. Observe the
+attention to details of dustspecks. Never put on you tomorrow what you
+can wear today. Parallax! _(With a nervous twitch of his head)_ Did you
+hear my brain go snap? Pollysyllabax!
+
+BLOOM: _(An elbow resting in a hand, a forefinger against his cheek)_
+She seems sad.
+
+VIRAG: _(Cynically, his weasel teeth bared yellow, draws down his left
+eye with a finger and barks hoarsely)_ Hoax! Beware of the flapper
+and bogus mournful. Lily of the alley. All possess bachelor's button
+discovered by Rualdus Columbus. Tumble her. Columble her. Chameleon.
+_(More genially)_ Well then, permit me to draw your attention to item
+number three. There is plenty of her visible to the naked eye. Observe
+the mass of oxygenated vegetable matter on her skull. What ho, she
+bumps! The ugly duckling of the party, longcasted and deep in keel.
+
+BLOOM: _(Regretfully)_ When you come out without your gun.
+
+VIRAG: We can do you all brands, mild, medium and strong. Pay your
+money, take your choice. How happy could you be with either...
+
+BLOOM: With...?
+
+VIRAG: _(His tongue upcurling)_ Lyum! Look. Her beam is broad. She
+is coated with quite a considerable layer of fat. Obviously mammal in
+weight of bosom you remark that she has in front well to the fore two
+protuberances of very respectable dimensions, inclined to fall in the
+noonday soupplate, while on her rere lower down are two additional
+protuberances, suggestive of potent rectum and tumescent for palpation,
+which leave nothing to be desired save compactness. Such fleshy parts
+are the product of careful nurture. When coopfattened their livers
+reach an elephantine size. Pellets of new bread with fennygreek and
+gumbenjamin swamped down by potions of green tea endow them during their
+brief existence with natural pincushions of quite colossal blubber. That
+suits your book, eh? Fleshhotpots of Egypt to hanker after. Wallow in
+it. Lycopodium. _(His throat twitches)_ Slapbang! There he goes again.
+
+BLOOM: The stye I dislike.
+
+VIRAG: _(Arches his eyebrows)_ Contact with a goldring, they say.
+_Argumentum ad feminam_, as we said in old Rome and ancient Greece
+in the consulship of Diplodocus and Ichthyosauros. For the rest Eve's
+sovereign remedy. Not for sale. Hire only. Huguenot. _(He twitches)_ It
+is a funny sound. _(He coughs encouragingly)_ But possibly it is only a
+wart. I presume you shall have remembered what I will have taught you on
+that head? Wheatenmeal with honey and nutmeg.
+
+BLOOM: _(Reflecting)_ Wheatenmeal with lycopodium and syllabax. This
+searching ordeal. It has been an unusually fatiguing day, a chapter of
+accidents. Wait. I mean, wartsblood spreads warts, you said...
+
+VIRAG: _(Severely, his nose hardhumped, his side eye winking)_ Stop
+twirling your thumbs and have a good old thunk. See, you have forgotten.
+Exercise your mnemotechnic. _La causa è santa_. Tara. Tara. _(Aside)_ He
+will surely remember.
+
+BLOOM: Rosemary also did I understand you to say or willpower over
+parasitic tissues. Then nay no I have an inkling. The touch of a
+deadhand cures. Mnemo?
+
+VIRAG: _(Excitedly)_ I say so. I say so. E'en so. Technic. _(He taps his
+parchmentroll energetically)_ This book tells you how to act with all
+descriptive particulars. Consult index for agitated fear of aconite,
+melancholy of muriatic, priapic pulsatilla. Virag is going to talk about
+amputation. Our old friend caustic. They must be starved. Snip off with
+horsehair under the denned neck. But, to change the venue to the Bulgar
+and the Basque, have you made up your mind whether you like or dislike
+women in male habiliments? _(With a dry snigger)_ You intended to devote
+an entire year to the study of the religious problem and the summer
+months of 1886 to square the circle and win that million. Pomegranate!
+From the sublime to the ridiculous is but a step. Pyjamas, let us say?
+Or stockingette gussetted knickers, closed? Or, put we the case,
+those complicated combinations, camiknickers? _(He crows derisively)_
+Keekeereekee!
+
+_(Bloom surveys uncertainly the three whores then gazes at the veiled
+mauve light, hearing the everflying moth.)_
+
+BLOOM: I wanted then to have now concluded. Nightdress was never. Hence
+this. But tomorrow is a new day will be. Past was is today. What now is
+will then morrow as now was be past yester.
+
+VIRAG: _(Prompts in a pig's whisper)_ Insects of the day spend their
+brief existence in reiterated coition, lured by the smell of the
+inferiorly pulchritudinous fumale possessing extendified pudendal nerve
+in dorsal region. Pretty Poll! _(His yellow parrotbeak gabbles nasally)_
+They had a proverb in the Carpathians in or about the year five thousand
+five hundred and fifty of our era. One tablespoonful of honey will
+attract friend Bruin more than half a dozen barrels of first choice malt
+vinegar. Bear's buzz bothers bees. But of this apart. At another time
+we may resume. We were very pleased, we others. _(He coughs and, bending
+his brow, rubs his nose thoughtfully with a scooping hand)_ You shall
+find that these night insects follow the light. An illusion for remember
+their complex unadjustable eye. For all these knotty points see the
+seventeenth book of my Fundamentals of Sexology or the Love Passion
+which Doctor L.B. says is the book sensation of the year. Some, to
+example, there are again whose movements are automatic. Perceive. That
+is his appropriate sun. Nightbird nightsun nighttown. Chase me, Charley!
+_(He blows into bloom's ear)_ Buzz!
+
+BLOOM: Bee or bluebottle too other day butting shadow on wall dazed self
+then me wandered dazed down shirt good job I...
+
+VIRAG: _(His face impassive, laughs in a rich feminine key)_ Splendid!
+Spanish fly in his fly or mustard plaster on his dibble. _(He gobbles
+gluttonously with turkey wattles)_ Bubbly jock! Bubbly jock! Where are
+we? Open Sesame! Cometh forth! _(He unrolls his parchment rapidly and
+reads, his glowworm's nose running backwards over the letters which he
+claws)_ Stay, good friend. I bring thee thy answer. Redbank oysters will
+shortly be upon us. I'm the best o'cook. Those succulent bivalves may
+help us and the truffles of Perigord, tubers dislodged through mister
+omnivorous porker, were unsurpassed in cases of nervous debility or
+viragitis. Though they stink yet they sting. _(He wags his head with
+cackling raillery)_ Jocular. With my eyeglass in my ocular. _(He
+sneezes)_ Amen!
+
+BLOOM: _(Absently)_ Ocularly woman's bivalve case is worse. Always open
+sesame. The cloven sex. Why they fear vermin, creeping things. Yet Eve
+and the serpent contradicts. Not a historical fact. Obvious analogy
+to my idea. Serpents too are gluttons for woman's milk. Wind their way
+through miles of omnivorous forest to sucksucculent her breast dry. Like
+those bubblyjocular Roman matrons one reads of in Elephantuliasis.
+
+VIRAG: _(His mouth projected in hard wrinkles, eyes stonily forlornly
+closed, psalms in outlandish monotone)_ That the cows with their those
+distended udders that they have been the the known...
+
+BLOOM: I am going to scream. I beg your pardon. Ah? So. _(He repeats)_
+Spontaneously to seek out the saurian's lair in order to entrust their
+teats to his avid suction. Ant milks aphis. _(Profoundly)_ Instinct
+rules the world. In life. In death.
+
+VIRAG: _(Head askew, arches his back and hunched wingshoulders, peers
+at the moth out of blear bulged eyes, points a horning claw and cries)_
+Who's moth moth? Who's dear Gerald? Dear Ger, that you? O dear, he is
+Gerald. O, I much fear he shall be most badly burned. Will some pleashe
+pershon not now impediment so catastrophics mit agitation of firstclass
+tablenumpkin? _(He mews)_ Puss puss puss puss! _(He sighs, draws back
+and stares sideways down with dropping underjaw)_ Well, well. He doth
+rest anon. (He snaps his jaws suddenly on the air)
+
+THE MOTH:
+
+ I'm a tiny tiny thing
+ Ever flying in the spring
+ Round and round a ringaring.
+ Long ago I was a king
+ Now I do this kind of thing
+ On the wing, on the wing!
+ Bing!
+
+_(He rushes against the mauve shade, flapping noisily)_ Pretty pretty
+pretty pretty pretty pretty petticoats.
+
+_(From left upper entrance with two gliding steps Henry Flower comes
+forward to left front centre. He wears a dark mantle and drooping plumed
+sombrero. He carries a silverstringed inlaid dulcimer and a longstemmed
+bamboo Jacob's pipe, its clay bowl fashioned as a female head. He wears
+dark velvet hose and silverbuckled pumps. He has the romantic Saviour's
+face with flowing locks, thin beard and moustache. His spindlelegs and
+sparrow feet are those of the tenor Mario, prince of Candia. He settles
+down his goffered ruffs and moistens his lips with a passage of his
+amorous tongue.)_
+
+HENRY: _(In a low dulcet voice, touching the strings of his guitar)_
+There is a flower that bloometh.
+
+_(Virag truculent, his jowl set, stares at the lamp. Grave Bloom regards
+Zoe's neck. Henry gallant turns with pendant dewlap to the piano.)_
+
+STEPHEN: _(To himself)_ Play with your eyes shut. Imitate pa. Filling my
+belly with husks of swine. Too much of this. I will arise and go to my.
+Expect this is the. Steve, thou art in a parlous way. Must visit old
+Deasy or telegraph. Our interview of this morning has left on me a deep
+impression. Though our ages. Will write fully tomorrow. I'm partially
+drunk, by the way. _(He touches the keys again)_ Minor chord comes now.
+Yes. Not much however.
+
+_(Almidano Artifoni holds out a batonroll of music with vigorous
+moustachework.)_
+
+ARTIFONI: _Ci rifletta. Lei rovina tutto._
+
+FLORRY: Sing us something. Love's old sweet song.
+
+STEPHEN: No voice. I am a most finished artist. Lynch, did I show you
+the letter about the lute?
+
+FLORRY: _(Smirking)_ The bird that can sing and won't sing.
+
+_(The Siamese twins, Philip Drunk and Philip Sober, two Oxford dons with
+lawnmowers, appear in the window embrasure. Both are masked with Matthew
+Arnold's face.)_
+
+PHILIP SOBER: Take a fool's advice. All is not well. Work it out with
+the buttend of a pencil, like a good young idiot. Three pounds twelve
+you got, two notes, one sovereign, two crowns, if youth but knew.
+Mooney's en ville, Mooney's sur mer, the Moira, Larchet's, Holles street
+hospital, Burke's. Eh? I am watching you.
+
+PHILIP DRUNK: _(Impatiently)_ Ah, bosh, man. Go to hell! I paid my way.
+If I could only find out about octaves. Reduplication of personality.
+Who was it told me his name? _(His lawnmower begins to purr)_ Aha, yes.
+_Zoe mou sas agapo_. Have a notion I was here before. When was it not
+Atkinson his card I have somewhere. Mac Somebody. Unmack I have it. He
+told me about, hold on, Swinburne, was it, no?
+
+FLORRY: And the song?
+
+STEPHEN: Spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.
+
+FLORRY: Are you out of Maynooth? You're like someone I knew once.
+
+STEPHEN: Out of it now. _(To himself)_ Clever.
+
+PHILIP DRUNK AND PHILIP SOBER: _(Their lawnmowers purring with a
+rigadoon of grasshalms)_ Clever ever. Out of it out of it. By the
+bye have you the book, the thing, the ashplant? Yes, there it, yes.
+Cleverever outofitnow. Keep in condition. Do like us.
+
+ZOE: There was a priest down here two nights ago to do his bit of
+business with his coat buttoned up. You needn't try to hide, I says to
+him. I know you've a Roman collar.
+
+VIRAG: Perfectly logical from his standpoint. Fall of man. _(Harshly,
+his pupils waxing)_ To hell with the pope! Nothing new under the sun. I
+am the Virag who disclosed the Sex Secrets of Monks and Maidens. Why
+I left the church of Rome. Read the Priest, the Woman and the
+Confessional. Penrose. Flipperty Jippert. _(He wriggles)_ Woman, undoing
+with sweet pudor her belt of rushrope, offers her allmoist yoni to man's
+lingam. Short time after man presents woman with pieces of jungle meat.
+Woman shows joy and covers herself with featherskins. Man loves her yoni
+fiercely with big lingam, the stiff one. _(He cries) Coactus volui._
+Then giddy woman will run about. Strong man grapses woman's wrist.
+Woman squeals, bites, spucks. Man, now fierce angry, strikes woman's fat
+yadgana. _(He chases his tail)_ Piffpaff! Popo! _(He stops, sneezes)_
+Pchp! _(He worries his butt)_ Prrrrrht!
+
+LYNCH: I hope you gave the good father a penance. Nine glorias for
+shooting a bishop.
+
+ZOE: _(Spouts walrus smoke through her nostrils)_ He couldn't get a
+connection. Only, you know, sensation. A dry rush.
+
+BLOOM: Poor man!
+
+ZOE: _(Lightly)_ Only for what happened him.
+
+BLOOM: How?
+
+VIRAG: _(A diabolic rictus of black luminosity contracting his visage,
+cranes his scraggy neck forward. He lifts a mooncalf nozzle and howls.)
+Verfluchte Goim!_ He had a father, forty fathers. He never existed. Pig
+God! He had two left feet. He was Judas Iacchia, a Libyan eunuch, the
+pope's bastard. _(He leans out on tortured forepaws, elbows bent rigid,
+his eye agonising in his flat skullneck and yelps over the mute world)_
+A son of a whore. Apocalypse.
+
+KITTY: And Mary Shortall that was in the lock with the pox she got from
+Jimmy Pidgeon in the blue caps had a child off him that couldn't swallow
+and was smothered with the convulsions in the mattress and we all
+subscribed for the funeral.
+
+PHILIP DRUNK: _(Gravely) Qui vous a mis dans cette fichue position,
+Philippe?_
+
+PHILIP SOBER: _(Gaily) c'était le sacré pigeon, Philippe._
+
+_(Kitty unpins her hat and sets it down calmly, patting her henna hair.
+And a prettier, a daintier head of winsome curls was never seen on a
+whore's shoulders. Lynch puts on her hat. She whips it off.)_
+
+LYNCH: _(Laughs)_ And to such delights has Metchnikoff inoculated
+anthropoid apes.
+
+FLORRY: _(Nods)_ Locomotor ataxy.
+
+ZOE: _(Gaily)_ O, my dictionary.
+
+LYNCH: Three wise virgins.
+
+VIRAG: _(Agueshaken, profuse yellow spawn foaming over his bony
+epileptic lips)_ She sold lovephiltres, whitewax, orangeflower. Panther,
+the Roman centurion, polluted her with his genitories. _(He sticks out
+a flickering phosphorescent scorpion tongue, his hand on his fork)_
+Messiah! He burst her tympanum. _(With gibbering baboon's cries he jerks
+his hips in the cynical spasm)_ Hik! Hek! Hak! Hok! Huk! Kok! Kuk!
+
+_(Ben Jumbo Dollard, Rubicund, musclebound, hairynostrilled,
+hugebearded, cabbageeared, shaggychested, shockmaned, fat-papped, stands
+forth, his loins and genitals tightened into a pair of black bathing
+bagslops.)_
+
+BEN DOLLARD: _(Nakkering castanet bones in his huge padded paws, yodels
+jovially in base barreltone)_ When love absorbs my ardent soul.
+
+_(The virgins Nurse Callan and Nurse Quigley burst through the
+ringkeepers and the ropes and mob him with open arms.)_
+
+THE VIRGINS: _(Gushingly)_ Big Ben! Ben my Chree!
+
+A VOICE: Hold that fellow with the bad breeches.
+
+BEN DOLLARD: _(Smites his thigh in abundant laughter)_ Hold him now.
+
+HENRY: _(Caressing on his breast a severed female head, murmurs)_ Thine
+heart, mine love. _(He plucks his lutestrings)_ When first I saw...
+
+VIRAG: _(Sloughing his skins, his multitudinous plumage moulting)_ Rats!
+_(He yawns, showing a coalblack throat, and closes his jaws by an upward
+push of his parchmentroll)_ After having said which I took my departure.
+Farewell. Fare thee well. _Dreck!_
+
+_(Henry Flower combs his moustache and beard rapidly with a pocketcomb
+and gives a cow's lick to his hair. Steered by his rapier, he glides to
+the door, his wild harp slung behind him. Virag reaches the door in two
+ungainly stilthops, his tail cocked, and deftly claps sideways on the
+wall a pusyellow flybill, butting it with his head.)_
+
+THE FLYBILL: K. II. Post No Bills. Strictly confidential. Dr Hy Franks.
+
+HENRY: All is lost now.
+
+_(Virag unscrews his head in a trice and holds it under his arm.)_
+
+VIRAG'S HEAD: Quack!
+
+_(Exeunt severally.)_
+
+STEPHEN: _(Over his shoulder to zoe)_ You would have preferred
+the fighting parson who founded the protestant error. But beware
+Antisthenes, the dog sage, and the last end of Arius Heresiarchus. The
+agony in the closet.
+
+LYNCH: All one and the same God to her.
+
+STEPHEN: _(Devoutly)_ And sovereign Lord of all things.
+
+FLORRY: _(To Stephen)_ I'm sure you're a spoiled priest. Or a monk.
+
+LYNCH: He is. A cardinal's son.
+
+STEPHEN: Cardinal sin. Monks of the screw.
+
+_(His Eminence Simon Stephen Cardinal Dedalus, Primate of all Ireland,
+appears in the doorway, dressed in red soutane, sandals and socks. Seven
+dwarf simian acolytes, also in red, cardinal sins, uphold his train,
+peeping under it. He wears a battered silk hat sideways on his head. His
+thumbs are stuck in his armpits and his palms outspread. Round his
+neck hangs a rosary of corks ending on his breast in a corkscrew cross.
+Releasing his thumbs, he invokes grace from on high with large wave
+gestures and proclaims with bloated pomp:)_
+
+THE CARDINAL:
+
+ Conservio lies captured
+ He lies in the lowest dungeon
+ With manacles and chains around his limbs
+ Weighing upwards of three tons.
+
+_(He looks at all for a moment, his right eye closed tight, his left
+cheek puffed out. Then, unable to repress his merriment, he rocks to and
+fro, arms akimbo, and sings with broad rollicking humour:)_
+
+ O, the poor little fellow
+ Hihihihihis legs they were yellow
+ He was plump, fat and heavy and brisk as a snake
+ But some bloody savage
+ To graize his white cabbage
+ He murdered Nell Flaherty's duckloving drake.
+
+_(A multitude of midges swarms white over his robe. He scratches himself
+with crossed arms at his ribs, grimacing, and exclaims:)_
+
+I'm suffering the agony of the damned. By the hoky fiddle, thanks be to
+Jesus those funny little chaps are not unanimous. If they were they'd
+walk me off the face of the bloody globe.
+
+_(His head aslant he blesses curtly with fore and middle fingers,
+imparts the Easter kiss and doubleshuffles off comically, swaying
+his hat from side to side, shrinking quickly to the size of his
+trainbearers. The dwarf acolytes, giggling, peeping, nudging, ogling,
+Easterkissing, zigzag behind him. His voice is heard mellow from afar,
+merciful male, melodious:)_
+
+ Shall carry my heart to thee,
+ Shall carry my heart to thee,
+ And the breath of the balmy night
+ Shall carry my heart to thee!
+ _(The trick doorhandle turns.)_
+
+
+THE DOORHANDLE: Theeee!
+
+ZOE: The devil is in that door.
+
+_(A male form passes down the creaking staircase and is heard taking
+the waterproof and hat from the rack. Bloom starts forward involuntarily
+and, half closing the door as he passes, takes the chocolate from his
+pocket and offers it nervously to Zoe.)_
+
+ZOE: _(Sniffs his hair briskly)_ Hmmm! Thank your mother for the
+rabbits. I'm very fond of what I like.
+
+BLOOM: _(Hearing a male voice in talk with the whores on the doorstep,
+pricks his ears)_ If it were he? After? Or because not? Or the double
+event?
+
+ZOE: _(Tears open the silverfoil)_ Fingers was made before forks. _(She
+breaks off and nibbles a piece gives a piece to Kitty Ricketts and then
+turns kittenishly to Lynch)_ No objection to French lozenges? _(He nods.
+She taunts him.)_ Have it now or wait till you get it? _(He opens his
+mouth, his head cocked. She whirls the prize in left circle. His head
+follows. She whirls it back in right circle. He eyes her.)_ Catch!
+
+_(She tosses a piece. With an adroit snap he catches it and bites it
+through with a crack.)_
+
+KITTY: _(Chewing)_ The engineer I was with at the bazaar does have
+lovely ones. Full of the best liqueurs. And the viceroy was there with
+his lady. The gas we had on the Toft's hobbyhorses. I'm giddy still.
+
+BLOOM: _(In Svengali's fur overcoat, with folded arms and Napoleonic
+forelock, frowns in ventriloquial exorcism with piercing eagle glance
+towards the door. Then rigid with left foot advanced he makes a swift
+pass with impelling fingers and gives the sign of past master, drawing
+his right arm downwards from his left shoulder.)_ Go, go, go, I conjure
+you, whoever you are!
+
+_(A male cough and tread are heard passing through the mist outside.
+Bloom's features relax. He places a hand in his waistcoat, posing
+calmly. Zoe offers him chocolate.)_
+
+BLOOM: _(Solemnly)_ Thanks.
+
+ZOE: Do as you're bid. Here!
+
+_(A firm heelclacking tread is heard on the stairs.)_
+
+BLOOM: _(Takes the chocolate)_ Aphrodisiac? Tansy and pennyroyal. But I
+bought it. Vanilla calms or? Mnemo. Confused light confuses memory. Red
+influences lupus. Colours affect women's characters, any they have. This
+black makes me sad. Eat and be merry for tomorrow. _(He eats)_ Influence
+taste too, mauve. But it is so long since I. Seems new. Aphro. That
+priest. Must come. Better late than never. Try truffles at Andrews.
+
+_(The door opens. Bella Cohen, a massive whoremistress, enters. She
+is dressed in a threequarter ivory gown, fringed round the hem with
+tasselled selvedge, and cools herself flirting a black horn fan like
+Minnie Hauck in_ Carmen. _On her left hand are wedding and keeper rings.
+Her eyes are deeply carboned. She has a sprouting moustache. Her
+olive face is heavy, slightly sweated and fullnosed with orangetainted
+nostrils. She has large pendant beryl eardrops.)_
+
+BELLA: My word! I'm all of a mucksweat.
+
+_(She glances round her at the couples. Then her eyes rest on Bloom with
+hard insistence. Her large fan winnows wind towards her heated faceneck
+and embonpoint. Her falcon eyes glitter.)_
+
+THE FAN: _(Flirting quickly, then slowly)_ Married, I see.
+
+BLOOM: Yes. Partly, I have mislaid...
+
+THE FAN: _(Half opening, then closing)_ And the missus is master.
+Petticoat government.
+
+BLOOM: _(Looks down with a sheepish grin)_ That is so.
+
+THE FAN: _(Folding together, rests against her left eardrop)_ Have you
+forgotten me?
+
+BLOOM: Yes. Yo.
+
+THE FAN: _(Folded akimbo against her waist)_ Is me her was you dreamed
+before? Was then she him you us since knew? Am all them and the same now
+we?
+
+_(Bella approaches, gently tapping with the fan.)_
+
+BLOOM: _(Wincing)_ Powerful being. In my eyes read that slumber which
+women love.
+
+THE FAN: _(Tapping)_ We have met. You are mine. It is fate.
+
+BLOOM: _(Cowed)_ Exuberant female. Enormously I desiderate your
+domination. I am exhausted, abandoned, no more young. I stand, so to
+speak, with an unposted letter bearing the extra regulation fee before
+the too late box of the general postoffice of human life. The door
+and window open at a right angle cause a draught of thirtytwo feet per
+second according to the law of falling bodies. I have felt this instant
+a twinge of sciatica in my left glutear muscle. It runs in our family.
+Poor dear papa, a widower, was a regular barometer from it. He believed
+in animal heat. A skin of tabby lined his winter waistcoat. Near the
+end, remembering king David and the Sunamite, he shared his bed with
+Athos, faithful after death. A dog's spittle as you probably... _(He
+winces)_ Ah!
+
+RICHIE GOULDING: _(Bagweighted, passes the door)_ Mocking is catch. Best
+value in Dub. Fit for a prince's. Liver and kidney.
+
+THE FAN: _(Tapping)_ All things end. Be mine. Now.
+
+BLOOM: _(Undecided)_ All now? I should not have parted with my talisman.
+Rain, exposure at dewfall on the searocks, a peccadillo at my time of
+life. Every phenomenon has a natural cause.
+
+THE FAN: _(Points downwards slowly)_ You may.
+
+BLOOM: _(Looks downwards and perceives her unfastened bootlace)_ We are
+observed.
+
+THE FAN: _(Points downwards quickly)_ You must.
+
+BLOOM: _(With desire, with reluctance)_ I can make a true black knot.
+Learned when I served my time and worked the mail order line for
+Kellett's. Experienced hand. Every knot says a lot. Let me. In courtesy.
+I knelt once before today. Ah!
+
+_(Bella raises her gown slightly and, steadying her pose, lifts to the
+edge of a chair a plump buskined hoof and a full pastern, silksocked.
+Bloom, stifflegged, aging, bends over her hoof and with gentle fingers
+draws out and in her laces.)_
+
+BLOOM: _(Murmurs lovingly)_ To be a shoefitter in Manfield's was my
+love's young dream, the darling joys of sweet buttonhooking, to lace
+up crisscrossed to kneelength the dressy kid footwear satinlined, so
+incredibly impossibly small, of Clyde Road ladies. Even their wax model
+Raymonde I visited daily to admire her cobweb hose and stick of rhubarb
+toe, as worn in Paris.
+
+THE HOOF: Smell my hot goathide. Feel my royal weight.
+
+BLOOM: _(Crosslacing)_ Too tight?
+
+THE HOOF: If you bungle, Handy Andy, I'll kick your football for you.
+
+BLOOM: Not to lace the wrong eyelet as I did the night of the bazaar
+dance. Bad luck. Hook in wrong tache of her... person you mentioned.
+That night she met... Now!
+
+_(He knots the lace. Bella places her foot on the floor. Bloom raises
+his head. Her heavy face, her eyes strike him in midbrow. His eyes grow
+dull, darker and pouched, his nose thickens.)_
+
+BLOOM: _(Mumbles)_ Awaiting your further orders we remain, gentlemen,...
+
+BELLO: _(With a hard basilisk stare, in a baritone voice)_ Hound of
+dishonour!
+
+BLOOM: _(Infatuated)_ Empress!
+
+BELLO: _(His heavy cheekchops sagging)_ Adorer of the adulterous rump!
+
+BLOOM: _(Plaintively)_ Hugeness!
+
+BELLO: Dungdevourer!
+
+BLOOM: _(With sinews semiflexed)_ Magmagnificence!
+
+BELLO: Down! _(He taps her on the shoulder with his fan)_ Incline feet
+forward! Slide left foot one pace back! You will fall. You are falling.
+On the hands down!
+
+BLOOM: _(Her eyes upturned in the sign of admiration, closing, yaps)_
+Truffles!
+
+_(With a piercing epileptic cry she sinks on all fours, grunting,
+snuffling, rooting at his feet: then lies, shamming dead, with eyes shut
+tight, trembling eyelids, bowed upon the ground in the attitude of most
+excellent master.)_
+
+BELLO: _(With bobbed hair, purple gills, fit moustache rings round his
+shaven mouth, in mountaineer's puttees, green silverbuttoned coat, sport
+skirt and alpine hat with moorcock's feather, his hands stuck deep in
+his breeches pockets, places his heel on her neck and grinds it in)_
+Footstool! Feel my entire weight. Bow, bondslave, before the throne of
+your despot's glorious heels so glistening in their proud erectness.
+
+BLOOM: _(Enthralled, bleats)_ I promise never to disobey.
+
+BELLO: _(Laughs loudly)_ Holy smoke! You little know what's in store for
+you. I'm the Tartar to settle your little lot and break you in! I'll bet
+Kentucky cocktails all round I shame it out of you, old son. Cheek me,
+I dare you. If you do tremble in anticipation of heel discipline to be
+inflicted in gym costume.
+
+_(Bloom creeps under the sofa and peers out through the fringe.)_
+
+ZOE: _(Widening her slip to screen her)_ She's not here.
+
+BLOOM: _(Closing her eyes)_ She's not here.
+
+FLORRY: _(Hiding her with her gown)_ She didn't mean it, Mr Bello.
+She'll be good, sir.
+
+KITTY: Don't be too hard on her, Mr Bello. Sure you won't, ma'amsir.
+
+BELLO: _(Coaxingly)_ Come, ducky dear, I want a word with you, darling,
+just to administer correction. Just a little heart to heart talk,
+sweety. _(Bloom puts out her timid head)_ There's a good girly now.
+_(Bello grabs her hair violently and drags her forward)_ I only want
+to correct you for your own good on a soft safe spot. How's that tender
+behind? O, ever so gently, pet. Begin to get ready.
+
+BLOOM: _(Fainting)_ Don't tear my...
+
+BELLO: _(Savagely)_ The nosering, the pliers, the bastinado, the hanging
+hook, the knout I'll make you kiss while the flutes play like the Nubian
+slave of old. You're in for it this time! I'll make you remember me for
+the balance of your natural life. _(His forehead veins swollen, his face
+congested)_ I shall sit on your ottoman saddleback every morning after
+my thumping good breakfast of Matterson's fat hamrashers and a bottle
+of Guinness's porter. _(He belches)_ And suck my thumping good Stock
+Exchange cigar while I read the _Licensed Victualler's Gazette_. Very
+possibly I shall have you slaughtered and skewered in my stables and
+enjoy a slice of you with crisp crackling from the baking tin basted
+and baked like sucking pig with rice and lemon or currant sauce. It will
+hurt you. _(He twists her arm. Bloom squeals, turning turtle.)_
+
+BLOOM: Don't be cruel, nurse! Don't!
+
+BELLO: _(Twisting)_ Another!
+
+BLOOM: _(Screams)_ O, it's hell itself! Every nerve in my body aches
+like mad!
+
+BELLO: _(Shouts)_ Good, by the rumping jumping general! That's the best
+bit of news I heard these six weeks. Here, don't keep me waiting, damn
+you! _(He slaps her face)_
+
+BLOOM: _(Whimpers)_ You're after hitting me. I'll tell...
+
+BELLO: Hold him down, girls, till I squat on him.
+
+ZOE: Yes. Walk on him! I will.
+
+FLORRY: I will. Don't be greedy.
+
+KITTY: No, me. Lend him to me.
+
+_(The brothel cook, mrs keogh, wrinkled, greybearded, in a greasy bib,
+men's grey and green socks and brogues, floursmeared, a rollingpin stuck
+with raw pastry in her bare red arm and hand, appears at the door.)_
+
+MRS KEOGH: _(Ferociously)_ Can I help? _(They hold and pinion Bloom.)_
+
+BELLO: _(Squats with a grunt on Bloom's upturned face, puffing
+cigarsmoke, nursing a fat leg)_ I see Keating Clay is elected
+vicechairman of the Richmond asylum and by the by Guinness's preference
+shares are at sixteen three quaffers. Curse me for a fool that didn't
+buy that lot Craig and Gardner told me about. Just my infernal luck,
+curse it. And that Goddamned outsider _Throwaway_ at twenty to one.
+_(He quenches his cigar angrily on Bloom's ear)_ Where's that Goddamned
+cursed ashtray?
+
+BLOOM: _(Goaded, buttocksmothered)_ O! O! Monsters! Cruel one!
+
+BELLO: Ask for that every ten minutes. Beg. Pray for it as you never
+prayed before. _(He thrusts out a figged fist and foul cigar)_ Here,
+kiss that. Both. Kiss. _(He throws a leg astride and, pressing with
+horseman's knees, calls in a hard voice)_ Gee up! A cockhorse to Banbury
+cross. I'll ride him for the Eclipse stakes. _(He bends sideways and
+squeezes his mount's testicles roughly, shouting)_ Ho! Off we pop! I'll
+nurse you in proper fashion. _(He horserides cockhorse, leaping in the
+saddle)_ The lady goes a pace a pace and the coachman goes a trot a trot
+and the gentleman goes a gallop a gallop a gallop a gallop.
+
+FLORRY: _(Pulls at Bello)_ Let me on him now. You had enough. I asked
+before you.
+
+ZOE: _(Pulling at florry)_ Me. Me. Are you not finished with him yet,
+suckeress?
+
+BLOOM: _(Stifling)_ Can't.
+
+BELLO: Well, I'm not. Wait. _(He holds in his breath)_ Curse it. Here.
+This bung's about burst. _(He uncorks himself behind: then, contorting
+his features, farts loudly)_ Take that! _(He recorks himself)_ Yes, by
+Jingo, sixteen three quarters.
+
+BLOOM: _(A sweat breaking out over him)_ Not man. _(He sniffs)_ Woman.
+
+BELLO: _(Stands up)_ No more blow hot and cold. What you longed for has
+come to pass. Henceforth you are unmanned and mine in earnest, a thing
+under the yoke. Now for your punishment frock. You will shed your male
+garments, you understand, Ruby Cohen? and don the shot silk luxuriously
+rustling over head and shoulders. And quickly too!
+
+BLOOM: _(Shrinks)_ Silk, mistress said! O crinkly! scrapy! Must I
+tiptouch it with my nails?
+
+BELLO: _(Points to his whores)_ As they are now so will you be, wigged,
+singed, perfumesprayed, ricepowdered, with smoothshaven armpits. Tape
+measurements will be taken next your skin. You will be laced with cruel
+force into vicelike corsets of soft dove coutille with whalebone busk to
+the diamondtrimmed pelvis, the absolute outside edge, while your figure,
+plumper than when at large, will be restrained in nettight frocks,
+pretty two ounce petticoats and fringes and things stamped, of course,
+with my houseflag, creations of lovely lingerie for Alice and nice
+scent for Alice. Alice will feel the pullpull. Martha and Mary will be
+a little chilly at first in such delicate thighcasing but the frilly
+flimsiness of lace round your bare knees will remind you...
+
+BLOOM: _(A charming soubrette with dauby cheeks, mustard hair and large
+male hands and nose, leering mouth)_ I tried her things on only twice,
+a small prank, in Holles street. When we were hard up I washed them to
+save the laundry bill. My own shirts I turned. It was the purest thrift.
+
+BELLO: _(Jeers)_ Little jobs that make mother pleased, eh? And showed
+off coquettishly in your domino at the mirror behind closedrawn blinds
+your unskirted thighs and hegoat's udders in various poses of surrender,
+eh? Ho! ho! I have to laugh! That secondhand black operatop shift and
+short trunkleg naughties all split up the stitches at her last rape that
+Mrs Miriam Dandrade sold you from the Shelbourne hotel, eh?
+
+BLOOM: Miriam. Black. Demimondaine.
+
+BELLO: _(Guffaws)_ Christ Almighty it's too tickling, this! You were
+a nicelooking Miriam when you clipped off your backgate hairs and
+lay swooning in the thing across the bed as Mrs Dandrade about to be
+violated by lieutenant Smythe-Smythe, Mr Philip Augustus Blockwell M.
+P., signor Laci Daremo, the robust tenor, blueeyed Bert, the liftboy,
+Henri Fleury of Gordon Bennett fame, Sheridan, the quadroon Croesus, the
+varsity wetbob eight from old Trinity, Ponto, her splendid Newfoundland
+and Bobs, dowager duchess of Manorhamilton. _(He guffaws again)_ Christ,
+wouldn't it make a Siamese cat laugh?
+
+BLOOM: _(Her hands and features working)_ It was Gerald converted me to
+be a true corsetlover when I was female impersonator in the High School
+play _Vice Versa_. It was dear Gerald. He got that kink, fascinated by
+sister's stays. Now dearest Gerald uses pinky greasepaint and gilds his
+eyelids. Cult of the beautiful.
+
+BELLO: _(With wicked glee)_ Beautiful! Give us a breather! When you
+took your seat with womanish care, lifting your billowy flounces, on the
+smoothworn throne.
+
+BLOOM: Science. To compare the various joys we each enjoy. _(Earnestly)_
+And really it's better the position... because often I used to wet...
+
+BELLO: _(Sternly)_ No insubordination! The sawdust is there in the
+corner for you. I gave you strict instructions, didn't I? Do it
+standing, sir! I'll teach you to behave like a jinkleman! If I catch a
+trace on your swaddles. Aha! By the ass of the Dorans you'll find I'm a
+martinet. The sins of your past are rising against you. Many. Hundreds.
+
+THE SINS OF THE PAST: _(In a medley of voices)_ He went through a form
+of clandestine marriage with at least one woman in the shadow of the
+Black church. Unspeakable messages he telephoned mentally to Miss Dunn
+at an address in D'Olier street while he presented himself indecently to
+the instrument in the callbox. By word and deed he frankly encouraged
+a nocturnal strumpet to deposit fecal and other matter in an unsanitary
+outhouse attached to empty premises. In five public conveniences
+he wrote pencilled messages offering his nuptial partner to all
+strongmembered males. And by the offensively smelling vitriol works did
+he not pass night after night by loving courting couples to see if and
+what and how much he could see? Did he not lie in bed, the gross boar,
+gloating over a nauseous fragment of wellused toilet paper presented to
+him by a nasty harlot, stimulated by gingerbread and a postal order?
+
+BELLO: _(Whistles loudly)_ Say! What was the most revolting piece of
+obscenity in all your career of crime? Go the whole hog. Puke it out! Be
+candid for once.
+
+_(Mute inhuman faces throng forward, leering, vanishing, gibbering,
+Booloohoom. Poldy Kock, Bootlaces a penny Cassidy's hag, blind
+stripling, Larry Rhinoceros, the girl, the woman, the whore, the other,
+the...)_
+
+BLOOM: Don't ask me! Our mutual faith. Pleasants street. I only thought
+the half of the... I swear on my sacred oath...
+
+BELLO: _(Peremptorily)_ Answer. Repugnant wretch! I insist on knowing.
+Tell me something to amuse me, smut or a bloody good ghoststory or a
+line of poetry, quick, quick, quick! Where? How? What time? With how
+many? I give you just three seconds. One! Two! Thr...
+
+BLOOM: _(Docile, gurgles)_ I rererepugnosed in rerererepugnant
+
+BELLO: _(Imperiously)_ O, get out, you skunk! Hold your tongue! Speak
+when you're spoken to.
+
+BLOOM: _(Bows)_ Master! Mistress! Mantamer!
+
+_(He lifts his arms. His bangle bracelets fill.)_
+
+BELLO: _(Satirically)_ By day you will souse and bat our smelling
+underclothes also when we ladies are unwell, and swab out our latrines
+with dress pinned up and a dishclout tied to your tail. Won't that be
+nice? _(He places a ruby ring on her finger)_ And there now! With this
+ring I thee own. Say, thank you, mistress.
+
+BLOOM: Thank you, mistress.
+
+BELLO: You will make the beds, get my tub ready, empty the pisspots in
+the different rooms, including old Mrs Keogh's the cook's, a sandy one.
+Ay, and rinse the seven of them well, mind, or lap it up like champagne.
+Drink me piping hot. Hop! You will dance attendance or I'll lecture you
+on your misdeeds, Miss Ruby, and spank your bare bot right well, miss,
+with the hairbrush. You'll be taught the error of your ways. At night
+your wellcreamed braceletted hands will wear fortythreebutton gloves
+newpowdered with talc and having delicately scented fingertips. For such
+favours knights of old laid down their lives. _(He chuckles)_ My boys
+will be no end charmed to see you so ladylike, the colonel, above
+all, when they come here the night before the wedding to fondle my new
+attraction in gilded heels. First I'll have a go at you myself. A man I
+know on the turf named Charles Alberta Marsh (I was in bed with him just
+now and another gentleman out of the Hanaper and Petty Bag office) is
+on the lookout for a maid of all work at a short knock. Swell the bust.
+Smile. Droop shoulders. What offers? _(He points)_ For that lot. Trained
+by owner to fetch and carry, basket in mouth. _(He bares his arm and
+plunges it elbowdeep in Bloom's vulva)_ There's fine depth for you!
+What, boys? That give you a hardon? _(He shoves his arm in a bidder's
+face)_ Here wet the deck and wipe it round!
+
+A BIDDER: A florin.
+
+_(Dillon's lacquey rings his handbell.)_
+
+THE LACQUEY: Barang!
+
+A VOICE: One and eightpence too much.
+
+CHARLES ALBERTA MARSH: Must be virgin. Good breath. Clean.
+
+BELLO: _(Gives a rap with his gavel)_ Two bar. Rockbottom figure and
+cheap at the price. Fourteen hands high. Touch and examine his points.
+Handle him. This downy skin, these soft muscles, this tender flesh. If
+I had only my gold piercer here! And quite easy to milk. Three newlaid
+gallons a day. A pure stockgetter, due to lay within the hour. His
+sire's milk record was a thousand gallons of whole milk in forty weeks.
+Whoa my jewel! Beg up! Whoa! _(He brands his initial C on Bloom's
+croup)_ So! Warranted Cohen! What advance on two bob, gentlemen?
+
+A DARKVISAGED MAN: _(In disguised accent)_ Hoondert punt sterlink.
+
+VOICES: _(Subdued)_ For the Caliph. Haroun Al Raschid.
+
+BELLO: _(Gaily)_ Right. Let them all come. The scanty, daringly short
+skirt, riding up at the knee to show a peep of white pantalette, is a
+potent weapon and transparent stockings, emeraldgartered, with the
+long straight seam trailing up beyond the knee, appeal to the better
+instincts of the _blasé_ man about town. Learn the smooth mincing walk
+on four inch Louis Quinze heels, the Grecian bend with provoking croup,
+the thighs fluescent, knees modestly kissing. Bring all your powers of
+fascination to bear on them. Pander to their Gomorrahan vices.
+
+BLOOM: _(Bends his blushing face into his armpit and simpers with
+forefinger in mouth)_ O, I know what you're hinting at now!
+
+BELLO: What else are you good for, an impotent thing like you? _(He
+stoops and, peering, pokes with his fan rudely under the fat suet folds
+of Bloom's haunches)_ Up! Up! Manx cat! What have we here? Where's your
+curly teapot gone to or who docked it on you, cockyolly? Sing, birdy,
+sing. It's as limp as a boy of six's doing his pooly behind a cart. Buy
+a bucket or sell your pump. _(Loudly)_ Can you do a man's job?
+
+BLOOM: Eccles street...
+
+BELLO: _(Sarcastically)_ I wouldn't hurt your feelings for the world but
+there's a man of brawn in possession there. The tables are turned, my
+gay young fellow! He is something like a fullgrown outdoor man. Well for
+you, you muff, if you had that weapon with knobs and lumps and warts all
+over it. He shot his bolt, I can tell you! Foot to foot, knee to knee,
+belly to belly, bubs to breast! He's no eunuch. A shock of red hair he
+has sticking out of him behind like a furzebush! Wait for nine months,
+my lad! Holy ginger, it's kicking and coughing up and down in her guts
+already! That makes you wild, don't it? Touches the spot? _(He spits in
+contempt)_ Spittoon!
+
+BLOOM: I was indecently treated, I... Inform the police. Hundred
+pounds. Unmentionable. I...
+
+BELLO: Would if you could, lame duck. A downpour we want not your
+drizzle.
+
+BLOOM: To drive me mad! Moll! I forgot! Forgive! Moll... We... Still...
+
+BELLO: _(Ruthlessly)_ No, Leopold Bloom, all is changed by woman's will
+since you slept horizontal in Sleepy Hollow your night of twenty years.
+Return and see.
+
+_(Old Sleepy Hollow calls over the wold.)_
+
+SLEEPY HOLLOW: Rip van Wink! Rip van Winkle!
+
+BLOOM: _(In tattered mocassins with a rusty fowlingpiece, tiptoeing,
+fingertipping, his haggard bony bearded face peering through the diamond
+panes, cries out)_ I see her! It's she! The first night at Mat Dillon's!
+But that dress, the green! And her hair is dyed gold and he...
+
+BELLO: _(Laughs mockingly)_ That's your daughter, you owl, with a
+Mullingar student.
+
+_(Milly Bloom, fairhaired, greenvested, slimsandalled, her blue scarf
+in the seawind simply swirling, breaks from the arms of her lover and
+calls, her young eyes wonderwide.)_
+
+MILLY: My! It's Papli! But, O Papli, how old you've grown!
+
+BELLO: Changed, eh? Our whatnot, our writingtable where we never wrote,
+aunt Hegarty's armchair, our classic reprints of old masters. A man and
+his menfriends are living there in clover. The _Cuckoos' Rest!_ Why not?
+How many women had you, eh, following them up dark streets, flatfoot,
+exciting them by your smothered grunts, what, you male prostitute?
+Blameless dames with parcels of groceries. Turn about. Sauce for the
+goose, my gander O.
+
+BLOOM: They... I...
+
+BELLO: _(Cuttingly)_ Their heelmarks will stamp the Brusselette carpet
+you bought at Wren's auction. In their horseplay with Moll the romp to
+find the buck flea in her breeches they will deface the little statue
+you carried home in the rain for art for art' sake. They will violate
+the secrets of your bottom drawer. Pages will be torn from your handbook
+of astronomy to make them pipespills. And they will spit in your ten
+shilling brass fender from Hampton Leedom's.
+
+BLOOM: Ten and six. The act of low scoundrels. Let me go. I will return.
+I will prove...
+
+A VOICE: Swear!
+
+_(Bloom clenches his fists and crawls forward, a bowieknife between his
+teeth.)_
+
+BELLO: As a paying guest or a kept man? Too late. You have made your
+secondbest bed and others must lie in it. Your epitaph is written. You
+are down and out and don't you forget it, old bean.
+
+BLOOM: Justice! All Ireland versus one! Has nobody...? _(He bites his
+thumb)_
+
+BELLO: Die and be damned to you if you have any sense of decency
+or grace about you. I can give you a rare old wine that'll send you
+skipping to hell and back. Sign a will and leave us any coin you have!
+If you have none see you damn well get it, steal it, rob it! We'll bury
+you in our shrubbery jakes where you'll be dead and dirty with old Cuck
+Cohen, my stepnephew I married, the bloody old gouty procurator and
+sodomite with a crick in his neck, and my other ten or eleven husbands,
+whatever the buggers' names were, suffocated in the one cesspool. _(He
+explodes in a loud phlegmy laugh)_ We'll manure you, Mr Flower! _(He
+pipes scoffingly)_ Byby, Poldy! Byby, Papli!
+
+BLOOM: _(Clasps his head)_ My willpower! Memory! I have sinned! I have
+suff...
+
+_(He weeps tearlessly)_
+
+BELLO: _(Sneers)_ Crybabby! Crocodile tears!
+
+_(Bloom, broken, closely veiled for the sacrifice, sobs, his face to
+the earth. The passing bell is heard. Darkshawled figures of the
+circumcised, in sackcloth and ashes, stand by the wailing wall. M.
+Shulomowitz, Joseph Goldwater, Moses Herzog, Harris Rosenberg, M.
+Moisel, J. Citron, Minnie Watchman, P. Mastiansky, The Reverend Leopold
+Abramovitz, Chazen. With swaying arms they wail in pneuma over the
+recreant Bloom.)_
+
+THE CIRCUMCISED: _(In dark guttural chant as they cast dead sea fruit
+upon him, no flowers) Shema Israel Adonai Elohenu Adonai Echad._
+
+VOICES: _(Sighing)_ So he's gone. Ah yes. Yes, indeed. Bloom? Never
+heard of him. No? Queer kind of chap. There's the widow. That so? Ah,
+yes.
+
+_(From the suttee pyre the flame of gum camphire ascends. The pall of
+incense smoke screens and disperses. Out of her oakframe a nymph with
+hair unbound, lightly clad in teabrown artcolours, descends from her
+grotto and passing under interlacing yews stands over Bloom.)_
+
+THE YEWS: _(Their leaves whispering)_ Sister. Our sister. Ssh!
+
+THE NYMPH: _(Softly)_ Mortal! _(Kindly)_ Nay, dost not weepest!
+
+BLOOM: _(Crawls jellily forward under the boughs, streaked by sunlight,
+with dignity)_ This position. I felt it was expected of me. Force of
+habit.
+
+THE NYMPH: Mortal! You found me in evil company, highkickers, coster
+picnicmakers, pugilists, popular generals, immoral panto boys in
+fleshtights and the nifty shimmy dancers, La Aurora and Karini, musical
+act, the hit of the century. I was hidden in cheap pink paper that smelt
+of rock oil. I was surrounded by the stale smut of clubmen, stories to
+disturb callow youth, ads for transparencies, truedup dice and bustpads,
+proprietary articles and why wear a truss with testimonial from ruptured
+gentleman. Useful hints to the married.
+
+BLOOM: _(Lifts a turtle head towards her lap)_ We have met before. On
+another star.
+
+THE NYMPH: _(Sadly)_ Rubber goods. Neverrip brand as supplied to the
+aristocracy. Corsets for men. I cure fits or money refunded. Unsolicited
+testimonials for Professor Waldmann's wonderful chest exuber. My bust
+developed four inches in three weeks, reports Mrs Gus Rublin with photo.
+
+BLOOM: You mean _Photo Bits?_
+
+THE NYMPH: I do. You bore me away, framed me in oak and tinsel, set me
+above your marriage couch. Unseen, one summer eve, you kissed me in
+four places. And with loving pencil you shaded my eyes, my bosom and my
+shame.
+
+BLOOM: _(Humbly kisses her long hair)_ Your classic curves, beautiful
+immortal, I was glad to look on you, to praise you, a thing of beauty,
+almost to pray.
+
+THE NYMPH: During dark nights I heard your praise.
+
+BLOOM: _(Quickly)_ Yes, yes. You mean that I... Sleep reveals the worst
+side of everyone, children perhaps excepted. I know I fell out of bed
+or rather was pushed. Steel wine is said to cure snoring. For the rest
+there is that English invention, pamphlet of which I received some days
+ago, incorrectly addressed. It claims to afford a noiseless, inoffensive
+vent. _(He sighs)_ 'Twas ever thus. Frailty, thy name is marriage.
+
+THE NYMPH: _(Her fingers in her ears)_ And words. They are not in my
+dictionary.
+
+BLOOM: You understood them?
+
+THE YEWS: Ssh!
+
+THE NYMPH: _(Covers her face with her hands)_ What have I not seen in
+that chamber? What must my eyes look down on?
+
+BLOOM: _(Apologetically)_ I know. Soiled personal linen, wrong side up
+with care. The quoits are loose. From Gibraltar by long sea long ago.
+
+THE NYMPH: _(Bends her head)_ Worse, worse!
+
+BLOOM: _(Reflects precautiously)_ That antiquated commode. It wasn't her
+weight. She scaled just eleven stone nine. She put on nine pounds
+after weaning. It was a crack and want of glue. Eh? And that absurd
+orangekeyed utensil which has only one handle.
+
+_(The sound of a waterfall is heard in bright cascade.)_
+
+THE WATERFALL:
+
+ Poulaphouca Poulaphouca
+ Poulaphouca Poulaphouca.
+
+THE YEWS: _(Mingling their boughs)_ Listen. Whisper. She is right, our
+sister. We grew by Poulaphouca waterfall. We gave shade on languorous
+summer days.
+
+
+JOHN WYSE NOLAN: _(In the background, in Irish National Forester's
+uniform, doffs his plumed hat)_ Prosper! Give shade on languorous days,
+trees of Ireland!
+
+THE YEWS: _(Murmuring)_ Who came to Poulaphouca with the High School
+excursion? Who left his nutquesting classmates to seek our shade?
+
+BLOOM: _(Scared)_ High School of Poula? Mnemo? Not in full possession of
+faculties. Concussion. Run over by tram.
+
+THE ECHO: Sham!
+
+BLOOM: _(Pigeonbreasted, bottleshouldered, padded, in nondescript
+juvenile grey and black striped suit, too small for him, white tennis
+shoes, bordered stockings with turnover tops and a red schoolcap with
+badge)_ I was in my teens, a growing boy. A little then sufficed, a
+jolting car, the mingling odours of the ladies' cloakroom and lavatory,
+the throng penned tight on the old Royal stairs (for they love crushes,
+instinct of the herd, and the dark sexsmelling theatre unbridles
+vice), even a pricelist of their hosiery. And then the heat. There were
+sunspots that summer. End of school. And tipsycake. Halcyon days.
+
+_(Halcyon days, high school boys in blue and white football jerseys and
+shorts, Master Donald Turnbull, Master Abraham Chatterton, Master Owen
+Goldberg, Master Jack Meredith, Master Percy Apjohn, stand in a clearing
+of the trees and shout to Master Leopold Bloom.)_
+
+THE HALCYON DAYS: Mackerel! Live us again. Hurray! _(They cheer)_
+
+BLOOM: _(Hobbledehoy, warmgloved, mammamufflered, starred with spent
+snowballs, struggles to rise)_ Again! I feel sixteen! What a lark! Let's
+ring all the bells in Montague street. _(He cheers feebly)_ Hurray for
+the High School!
+
+THE ECHO: Fool!
+
+THE YEWS: _(Rustling)_ She is right, our sister. Whisper. _(Whispered
+kisses are heard in all the wood. Faces of hamadryads peep out from
+the boles and among the leaves and break, blossoming into bloom.)_ Who
+profaned our silent shade?
+
+THE NYMPH: _(Coyly, through parting fingers)_ There? In the open air?
+
+THE YEWS: _(Sweeping downward)_ Sister, yes. And on our virgin sward.
+
+THE WATERFALL:
+
+ Poulaphouca Poulaphouca
+ Phoucaphouca Phoucaphouca.
+
+THE NYMPH: _(With wide fingers)_ O, infamy!
+
+BLOOM: I was precocious. Youth. The fauna. I sacrificed to the god of
+the forest. The flowers that bloom in the spring. It was pairing
+time. Capillary attraction is a natural phenomenon. Lotty Clarke,
+flaxenhaired, I saw at her night toilette through illclosed curtains
+with poor papa's operaglasses: The wanton ate grass wildly. She rolled
+downhill at Rialto bridge to tempt me with her flow of animal spirits.
+She climbed their crooked tree and I... A saint couldn't resist it. The
+demon possessed me. Besides, who saw?
+
+_(Staggering Bob, a whitepolled calf, thrusts a ruminating head with
+humid nostrils through the foliage.)_
+
+STAGGERING BOB: (LARGE TEARDROPS ROLLING FROM HIS PROMINENT EYES,
+SNIVELS) Me. Me see.
+
+BLOOM: Simply satisfying a need I... _(With pathos)_ No girl would when
+I went girling. Too ugly. They wouldn't play...
+
+_(High on Ben Howth through rhododendrons a nannygoat passes,
+plumpuddered, buttytailed, dropping currants.)_
+
+THE NANNYGOAT: _(Bleats)_ Megeggaggegg! Nannannanny!
+
+BLOOM: _(Hatless, flushed, covered with burrs of thistledown and
+gorsespine)_ Regularly engaged. Circumstances alter cases. _(He gazes
+intently downwards on the water)_ Thirtytwo head over heels per second.
+Press nightmare. Giddy Elijah. Fall from cliff. Sad end of government
+printer's clerk. _(Through silversilent summer air the dummy of Bloom,
+rolled in a mummy, rolls roteatingly from the Lion's Head cliff into the
+purple waiting waters.)_
+
+THE DUMMYMUMMY: Bbbbblllllblblblblobschbg!
+
+_(Far out in the bay between bailey and kish lights the_ Erin's King
+_sails, sending a broadening plume of coalsmoke from her funnel towards
+the land.)_
+
+COUNCILLOR NANNETII: _(Alone on deck, in dark alpaca, yellowkitefaced,
+his hand in his waistcoat opening, declaims)_ When my country takes her
+place among the nations of the earth, then, and not till then, let my
+epitaph be written. I have...
+
+BLOOM: Done. Prff!
+
+THE NYMPH: _(Loftily)_ We immortals, as you saw today, have not such
+a place and no hair there either. We are stonecold and pure. We eat
+electric light. _(She arches her body in lascivious crispation, placing
+her forefinger in her mouth)_ Spoke to me. Heard from behind. How then
+could you...?
+
+BLOOM: _(Pawing the heather abjectly)_ O, I have been a perfect pig.
+Enemas too I have administered. One third of a pint of quassia to which
+add a tablespoonful of rocksalt. Up the fundament. With Hamilton Long's
+syringe, the ladies' friend.
+
+THE NYMPH: In my presence. The powderpuff. _(She blushes and makes a
+knee)_ And the rest!
+
+BLOOM: _(Dejected)_ Yes. _Peccavi!_ I have paid homage on that living
+altar where the back changes name. _(With sudden fervour)_ For why
+should the dainty scented jewelled hand, the hand that rules...?
+
+_(Figures wind serpenting in slow woodland pattern around the treestems,
+cooeeing)_
+
+THE VOICE OF KITTY: _(In the thicket)_ Show us one of them cushions.
+
+THE VOICE OF FLORRY: Here.
+
+_(A grouse wings clumsily through the underwood.)_
+
+THE VOICE OF LYNCH: _(In the thicket)_ Whew! Piping hot!
+
+THE VOICE OF ZOE: _(From the thicket)_ Came from a hot place.
+
+THE VOICE OF VIRAG: _(A birdchief, bluestreaked and feathered in war
+panoply with his assegai, striding through a crackling canebrake over
+beechmast and acorns)_ Hot! Hot! Ware Sitting Bull!
+
+BLOOM: It overpowers me. The warm impress of her warm form. Even to sit
+where a woman has sat, especially with divaricated thighs, as though to
+grant the last favours, most especially with previously well uplifted
+white sateen coatpans. So womanly, full. It fills me full.
+
+THE WATERFALL:
+
+ _Phillaphulla Poulaphouca
+ Poulaphouca Poulaphouca._
+
+THE YEWS: Ssh! Sister, speak!
+
+THE NYMPH: _(Eyeless, in nun's white habit, coif and hugewinged wimple,
+softly, with remote eyes)_ Tranquilla convent. Sister Agatha. Mount
+Carmel. The apparitions of Knock and Lourdes. No more desire. _(She
+reclines her head, sighing)_ Only the ethereal. Where dreamy creamy gull
+waves o'er the waters dull.
+
+_(Bloom half rises. His back trouserbutton snaps.)_
+
+THE BUTTON: Bip!
+
+_(Two sluts of the coombe dance rainily by, shawled, yelling flatly.)_
+
+THE SLUTS:
+
+ O, Leopold lost the pin of his drawers
+ He didn't know what to do,
+ To keep it up,
+ To keep it up.
+
+BLOOM: _(Coldly)_ You have broken the spell. The last straw. If there
+were only ethereal where would you all be, postulants and novices? Shy
+but willing like an ass pissing.
+
+THE YEWS: _(Their silverfoil of leaves precipitating, their skinny arms
+aging and swaying)_ Deciduously!
+
+THE NYMPH: _(Her features hardening, gropes in the folds of her habit)_
+Sacrilege! To attempt my virtue! _(A large moist stain appears on her
+robe)_ Sully my innocence! You are not fit to touch the garment of a
+pure woman. _(She clutches again in her robe)_ Wait. Satan, you'll sing
+no more lovesongs. Amen. Amen. Amen. Amen. _(She draws a poniard and,
+clad in the sheathmail of an elected knight of nine, strikes at his
+loins)_ Nekum!
+
+BLOOM: _(Starts up, seizes her hand)_ Hoy! Nebrakada! Cat o' nine lives!
+Fair play, madam. No pruningknife. The fox and the grapes, is it? What
+do you lack with your barbed wire? Crucifix not thick enough? _(He
+clutches her veil)_ A holy abbot you want or Brophy, the lame gardener,
+or the spoutless statue of the watercarrier, or good mother Alphonsus,
+eh Reynard?
+
+THE NYMPH: _(With a cry flees from him unveiled, her plaster cast
+cracking, a cloud of stench escaping from the cracks)_ Poli...!
+
+BLOOM: _(Calls after her)_ As if you didn't get it on the double
+yourselves. No jerks and multiple mucosities all over you. I tried it.
+Your strength our weakness. What's our studfee? What will you pay on
+the nail? You fee mendancers on the Riviera, I read. _(The fleeing nymph
+raises a keen)_ Eh? I have sixteen years of black slave labour behind
+me. And would a jury give me five shillings alimony tomorrow, eh? Fool
+someone else, not me. _(He sniffs)_ Rut. Onions. Stale. Sulphur. Grease.
+
+_(The figure of Bella Cohen stands before him.)_
+
+BELLA: You'll know me the next time.
+
+BLOOM: _(Composed, regards her) Passée._ Mutton dressed as lamb. Long
+in the tooth and superfluous hair. A raw onion the last thing at night
+would benefit your complexion. And take some double chin drill. Your
+eyes are as vapid as the glasseyes of your stuffed fox. They have the
+dimensions of your other features, that's all. I'm not a triple screw
+propeller.
+
+BELLA: _(Contemptuously)_ You're not game, in fact. _(Her sowcunt
+barks)_ Fbhracht!
+
+BLOOM: _(Contemptuously)_ Clean your nailless middle finger first, your
+bully's cold spunk is dripping from your cockscomb. Take a handful of
+hay and wipe yourself.
+
+BELLA: I know you, canvasser! Dead cod!
+
+BLOOM: I saw him, kipkeeper! Pox and gleet vendor!
+
+BELLA: _(Turns to the piano)_ Which of you was playing the dead march
+from _Saul?_
+
+ZOE: Me. Mind your cornflowers. _(She darts to the piano and bangs
+chords on it with crossed arms)_ The cat's ramble through the slag.
+_(She glances back)_ Eh? Who's making love to my sweeties? _(She darts
+back to the table)_ What's yours is mine and what's mine is my own.
+
+_(Kitty, disconcerted, coats her teeth with the silver paper. Bloom
+approaches Zoe.)_
+
+BLOOM: _(Gently)_ Give me back that potato, will you?
+
+ZOE: Forfeits, a fine thing and a superfine thing.
+
+BLOOM: _(With feeling)_ It is nothing, but still, a relic of poor mamma.
+
+ZOE:
+
+ Give a thing and take it back
+ God'll ask you where is that
+ You'll say you don't know
+ God'll send you down below.
+
+BLOOM: There is a memory attached to it. I should like to have it.
+
+STEPHEN: To have or not to have that is the question.
+
+ZOE: Here. _(She hauls up a reef of her slip, revealing her bare thigh,
+and unrolls the potato from the top of her stocking)_ Those that hides
+knows where to find.
+
+BELLA: _(Frowns)_ Here. This isn't a musical peepshow. And don't you
+smash that piano. Who's paying here?
+
+_(She goes to the pianola. Stephen fumbles in his pocket and, taking out
+a banknote by its corner, hands it to her.)_
+
+STEPHEN: _(With exaggerated politeness)_ This silken purse I made out
+of the sow's ear of the public. Madam, excuse me. If you allow me. _(He
+indicates vaguely Lynch and Bloom)_ We are all in the same sweepstake,
+Kinch and Lynch. _Dans ce bordel ou tenons nostre état_.
+
+LYNCH: _(Calls from the hearth)_ Dedalus! Give her your blessing for me.
+
+STEPHEN: _(Hands Bella a coin)_ Gold. She has it.
+
+BELLA: _(Looks at the money, then at Stephen, then at Zoe, Florry and
+Kitty)_ Do you want three girls? It's ten shillings here.
+
+STEPHEN: _(Delightedly)_ A hundred thousand apologies. _(He fumbles
+again and takes out and hands her two crowns)_ Permit, _brevi manu_, my
+sight is somewhat troubled.
+
+_(Bella goes to the table to count the money while Stephen talks to
+himself in monosyllables. Zoe bends over the table. Kitty leans over
+Zoe's neck. Lynch gets up, rights his cap and, clasping Kitty's waist,
+adds his head to the group.)_
+
+FLORRY: _(Strives heavily to rise)_ Ow! My foot's asleep. _(She limps
+over to the table. Bloom approaches.)_
+
+BELLA, ZOE, KITTY, LYNCH, BLOOM: _(Chattering and squabbling)_ The
+gentleman... ten shillings... paying for the three... allow me a
+moment... this gentleman pays separate... who's touching it?... ow!
+... mind who you're pinching... are you staying the night or a short
+time?... who did?... you're a liar, excuse me... the gentleman paid
+down like a gentleman... drink... it's long after eleven.
+
+STEPHEN: _(At the pianola, making a gesture of abhorrence)_ No bottles!
+What, eleven? A riddle!
+
+ZOE: _(Lifting up her pettigown and folding a half sovereign into the
+top of her stocking)_ Hard earned on the flat of my back.
+
+LYNCH: _(Lifting Kitty from the table)_ Come!
+
+KITTY: Wait. _(She clutches the two crowns)_
+
+FLORRY: And me?
+
+LYNCH: Hoopla! _(He lifts her, carries her and bumps her down on the
+sofa.)_
+
+STEPHEN:
+
+ The fox crew, the cocks flew,
+ The bells in heaven
+ Were striking eleven.
+ 'Tis time for her poor soul
+ To get out of heaven.
+
+BLOOM: _(Quietly lays a half sovereign on the table between bella and
+florry)_ So. Allow me. _(He takes up the poundnote)_ Three times ten.
+We're square.
+
+BELLA: _(Admiringly)_ You're such a slyboots, old cocky. I could kiss
+you.
+
+ZOE: _(Points)_ Him? Deep as a drawwell. _(Lynch bends Kitty back over
+the sofa and kisses her. Bloom goes with the poundnote to Stephen.)_
+
+BLOOM: This is yours.
+
+STEPHEN: How is that? _Les distrait_ or absentminded beggar. _(He
+fumbles again in his pocket and draws out a handful of coins. An object
+fills.)_ That fell.
+
+BLOOM: _(Stooping, picks up and hands a box of matches)_ This.
+
+STEPHEN: Lucifer. Thanks.
+
+BLOOM: _(Quietly)_ You had better hand over that cash to me to take care
+of. Why pay more?
+
+STEPHEN: _(Hands him all his coins)_ Be just before you are generous.
+
+BLOOM: I will but is it wise? _(He counts)_ One, seven, eleven, and
+five. Six. Eleven. I don't answer for what you may have lost.
+
+STEPHEN: Why striking eleven? Proparoxyton. Moment before the next
+Lessing says. Thirsty fox. _(He laughs loudly)_ Burying his grandmother.
+Probably he killed her.
+
+BLOOM: That is one pound six and eleven. One pound seven, say.
+
+STEPHEN: Doesn't matter a rambling damn.
+
+BLOOM: No, but...
+
+STEPHEN: _(Comes to the table)_ Cigarette, please. _(Lynch tosses a
+cigarette from the sofa to the table)_ And so Georgina Johnson is dead
+and married. _(A cigarette appears on the table. Stephen looks at it)_
+Wonder. Parlour magic. Married. Hm. _(He strikes a match and proceeds to
+light the cigarette with enigmatic melancholy)_
+
+LYNCH: _(Watching him)_ You would have a better chance of lighting it if
+you held the match nearer.
+
+STEPHEN: _(Brings the match near his eye)_ Lynx eye. Must get glasses.
+Broke them yesterday. Sixteen years ago. Distance. The eye sees all
+flat. _(He draws the match away. It goes out.)_ Brain thinks. Near:
+far. Ineluctable modality of the visible. _(He frowns mysteriously)_ Hm.
+Sphinx. The beast that has twobacks at midnight. Married.
+
+ZOE: It was a commercial traveller married her and took her away with
+him.
+
+FLORRY: _(Nods)_ Mr Lambe from London.
+
+STEPHEN: Lamb of London, who takest away the sins of our world.
+
+LYNCH: _(Embracing Kitty on the sofa, chants deeply) Dona nobis pacem._
+
+_(The cigarette slips from Stephen 's fingers. Bloom picks it up and
+throws it in the grate.)_
+
+BLOOM: Don't smoke. You ought to eat. Cursed dog I met. _(To Zoe)_ You
+have nothing?
+
+ZOE: Is he hungry?
+
+STEPHEN: _(Extends his hand to her smiling and chants to the air of the
+bloodoath in the_ Dusk of the Gods)
+
+ Hangende Hunger,
+ Fragende Frau,
+ Macht uns alle kaputt.
+
+
+ZOE: _(Tragically)_ Hamlet, I am thy father's gimlet! _(She takes
+his hand)_ Blue eyes beauty I'll read your hand. _(She points to his
+forehead)_ No wit, no wrinkles. _(She counts)_ Two, three, Mars, that's
+courage. _(Stephen shakes his head)_ No kid.
+
+LYNCH: Sheet lightning courage. The youth who could not shiver and
+shake. _(To Zoe)_ Who taught you palmistry?
+
+ZOE: _(Turns)_ Ask my ballocks that I haven't got. _(To Stephen)_ I see
+it in your face. The eye, like that. _(She frowns with lowered head)_
+
+LYNCH: _(Laughing, slaps Kitty behind twice)_ Like that. Pandybat.
+
+_(Twice loudly a pandybat cracks, the coffin of the pianola flies open,
+the bald little round jack-in-the-box head of Father Dolan springs up.)_
+
+FATHER DOLAN: Any boy want flogging? Broke his glasses? Lazy idle little
+schemer. See it in your eye.
+
+_(Mild, benign, rectorial, reproving, the head of Don John Conmee rises
+from the pianola coffin.)_
+
+DON JOHN CONMEE: Now, Father Dolan! Now. I'm sure that Stephen is a very
+good little boy!
+
+ZOE: _(Examining Stephen's palm)_ Woman's hand.
+
+STEPHEN: _(Murmurs)_ Continue. Lie. Hold me. Caress. I never could read
+His handwriting except His criminal thumbprint on the haddock.
+
+ZOE: What day were you born?
+
+STEPHEN: Thursday. Today.
+
+ZOE: Thursday's child has far to go. _(She traces lines on his hand)_
+Line of fate. Influential friends.
+
+FLORRY: _(Pointing)_ Imagination.
+
+ZOE: Mount of the moon. You'll meet with a... _(She peers at his hands
+abruptly)_ I won't tell you what's not good for you. Or do you want to
+know?
+
+BLOOM: _(Detaches her fingers and offers his palm)_ More harm than good.
+Here. Read mine.
+
+BELLA: Show. _(She turns up bloom's hand)_ I thought so. Knobby knuckles
+for the women.
+
+ZOE: _(Peering at bloom's palm)_ Gridiron. Travels beyond the sea and
+marry money.
+
+BLOOM: Wrong.
+
+ZOE: _(Quickly)_ O, I see. Short little finger. Henpecked husband. That
+wrong?
+
+_(Black Liz, a huge rooster hatching in a chalked circle, rises,
+stretches her wings and clucks.)_
+
+BLACK LIZ: Gara. Klook. Klook. Klook.
+
+_(She sidles from her newlaid egg and waddles off)_
+
+BLOOM: _(Points to his hand)_ That weal there is an accident. Fell and
+cut it twentytwo years ago. I was sixteen.
+
+ZOE: I see, says the blind man. Tell us news.
+
+STEPHEN: See? Moves to one great goal. I am twentytwo. Sixteen years ago
+he was twentytwo too. Sixteen years ago I twentytwo tumbled. Twentytwo
+years ago he sixteen fell off his hobbyhorse. _(He winces)_ Hurt my hand
+somewhere. Must see a dentist. Money?
+
+_(Zoe whispers to Florry. They giggle. Bloom releases his hand and
+writes idly on the table in backhand, pencilling slow curves.)_
+
+FLORRY: What?
+
+_(A hackneycar, number three hundred and twentyfour, with a
+gallantbuttocked mare, driven by James Barton, Harmony Avenue,
+Donnybrook, trots past. Blazes Boylan and Lenehan sprawl swaying on the
+sideseats. The Ormond boots crouches behind on the axle. Sadly over the
+crossblind Lydia Douce and Mina Kennedy gaze.)_
+
+THE BOOTS: _(Jogging, mocks them with thumb and wriggling wormfingers)_
+Haw haw have you the horn?
+
+_(Bronze by gold they whisper.)_
+
+ZOE: _(To Florry)_ Whisper.
+
+_(They whisper again)_
+
+_(Over the well of the car Blazes Boylan leans, his boater straw set
+sideways, a red flower in his mouth. Lenehan in yachtsman's cap and
+white shoes officiously detaches a long hair from Blazes Boylan's coat
+shoulder.)_
+
+LENEHAN: Ho! What do I here behold? Were you brushing the cobwebs off a
+few quims?
+
+BOYLAN: _(Seated, smiles)_ Plucking a turkey.
+
+LENEHAN: A good night's work.
+
+BOYLAN: _(Holding up four thick bluntungulated fingers, winks)_ Blazes
+Kate! Up to sample or your money back. _(He holds out a forefinger)_
+Smell that.
+
+LENEHAN: _(Smells gleefully)_ Ah! Lobster and mayonnaise. Ah!
+
+ZOE AND FLORRY: _(Laugh together)_ Ha ha ha ha.
+
+BOYLAN: _(Jumps surely from the car and calls loudly for all to hear)_
+Hello, Bloom! Mrs Bloom dressed yet?
+
+BLOOM: _(In flunkey's prune plush coat and kneebreeches, buff stockings
+and powdered wig)_ I'm afraid not, sir. The last articles...
+
+BOYLAN: _(Tosses him sixpence)_ Here, to buy yourself a gin and splash.
+_(He hangs his hat smartly on a peg of Bloom's antlered head)_ Show me
+in. I have a little private business with your wife, you understand?
+
+BLOOM: Thank you, sir. Yes, sir. Madam Tweedy is in her bath, sir.
+
+MARION: He ought to feel himself highly honoured. _(She plops splashing
+out of the water)_ Raoul darling, come and dry me. I'm in my pelt. Only
+my new hat and a carriage sponge.
+
+BOYLAN: _(A merry twinkle in his eye)_ Topping!
+
+BELLA: What? What is it?
+
+_(Zoe whispers to her.)_
+
+MARION: Let him look, the pishogue! Pimp! And scourge himself! I'll
+write to a powerful prostitute or Bartholomona, the bearded woman, to
+raise weals out on him an inch thick and make him bring me back a signed
+and stamped receipt.
+
+BOYLAN: (clasps himself) Here, I can't hold this little lot much longer.
+(he strides off on stiff cavalry legs)
+
+BELLA: _(Laughing)_ Ho ho ho ho.
+
+BOYLAN: _(To Bloom, over his shoulder)_ You can apply your eye to the
+keyhole and play with yourself while I just go through her a few times.
+
+BLOOM: Thank you, sir. I will, sir. May I bring two men chums to witness
+the deed and take a snapshot? _(He holds out an ointment jar)_ Vaseline,
+sir? Orangeflower...? Lukewarm water...?
+
+KITTY: _(From the sofa)_ Tell us, Florry. Tell us. What.
+
+_(Florry whispers to her. Whispering lovewords murmur, liplapping
+loudly, poppysmic plopslop.)_
+
+MINA KENNEDY: _(Her eyes upturned)_ O, it must be like the scent of
+geraniums and lovely peaches! O, he simply idolises every bit of her!
+Stuck together! Covered with kisses!
+
+LYDIA DOUCE: _(Her mouth opening)_ Yumyum. O, he's carrying her round
+the room doing it! Ride a cockhorse. You could hear them in Paris and
+New York. Like mouthfuls of strawberries and cream.
+
+KITTY: _(Laughing)_ Hee hee hee.
+
+BOYLAN'S VOICE: _(Sweetly, hoarsely, in the pit of his stomach)_ Ah!
+Gooblazqruk brukarchkrasht!
+
+MARION'S VOICE: _(Hoarsely, sweetly, rising to her throat)_ O!
+Weeshwashtkissinapooisthnapoohuck?
+
+BLOOM: _(His eyes wildly dilated, clasps himself)_ Show! Hide! Show!
+Plough her! More! Shoot!
+
+BELLA, ZOE, FLORRY, KITTY: Ho ho! Ha ha! Hee hee!
+
+LYNCH: _(Points)_ The mirror up to nature. _(He laughs)_ Hu hu hu hu hu!
+
+_(Stephen and Bloom gaze in the mirror. The face of William Shakespeare,
+beardless, appears there, rigid in facial paralysis, crowned by the
+reflection of the reindeer antlered hatrack in the hall.)_
+
+SHAKESPEARE: _(In dignified ventriloquy)_ 'Tis the loud laugh bespeaks
+the vacant mind. _(To Bloom)_ Thou thoughtest as how thou wastest
+invisible. Gaze. _(He crows with a black capon's laugh)_ Iagogo! How my
+Oldfellow chokit his Thursdaymornun. Iagogogo!
+
+BLOOM: _(Smiles yellowly at the three whores)_ When will I hear the
+joke?
+
+ZOE: Before you're twice married and once a widower.
+
+BLOOM: Lapses are condoned. Even the great Napoleon when measurements
+were taken next the skin after his death...
+
+_(Mrs Dignam, widow woman, her snubnose and cheeks flushed with
+deathtalk, tears and Tunney's tawny sherry, hurries by in her weeds,
+her bonnet awry, rouging and powdering her cheeks, lips and nose, a
+pen chivvying her brood of cygnets. Beneath her skirt appear her late
+husband's everyday trousers and turnedup boots, large eights. She holds
+a Scottish widows' insurance policy and a large marquee umbrella under
+which her brood run with her, Patsy hopping on one shod foot, his collar
+loose, a hank of porksteaks dangling, freddy whimpering, Susy with a
+crying cod's mouth, Alice struggling with the baby. She cuffs them on,
+her streamers flaunting aloft.)_
+
+FREDDY: Ah, ma, you're dragging me along!
+
+SUSY: Mamma, the beeftea is fizzing over!
+
+SHAKESPEARE: _(With paralytic rage)_ Weda seca whokilla farst.
+
+_(The face of Martin Cunningham, bearded, refeatures Shakespeare's
+beardless face. The marquee umbrella sways drunkenly, the children run
+aside. Under the umbrella appears Mrs Cunningham in Merry Widow hat and
+kimono gown. She glides sidling and bowing, twirling japanesily.)_
+
+MRS CUNNINGHAM: _(Sings)_
+
+And they call me the jewel of Asia!
+
+MARTIN CUNNINGHAM: _(Gazes on her, impassive)_ Immense! Most bloody
+awful demirep!
+
+STEPHEN: _Et exaltabuntur cornua iusti._ Queens lay with prize bulls.
+Remember Pasiphae for whose lust my grandoldgrossfather made the first
+confessionbox. Forget not Madam Grissel Steevens nor the suine scions
+of the house of Lambert. And Noah was drunk with wine. And his ark was
+open.
+
+BELLA: None of that here. Come to the wrong shop.
+
+LYNCH: Let him alone. He's back from Paris.
+
+ZOE: _(Runs to stephen and links him)_ O go on! Give us some parleyvoo.
+
+_(Stephen claps hat on head and leaps over to the fireplace where he
+stands with shrugged shoulders, finny hands outspread, a painted smile
+on his face.)_
+
+LYNCH: _(Oommelling on the sofa)_ Rmm Rmm Rmm Rrrrrrmmmm.
+
+STEPHEN: _(Gabbles with marionette jerks)_ Thousand places of
+entertainment to expense your evenings with lovely ladies saling gloves
+and other things perhaps hers heart beerchops perfect fashionable
+house very eccentric where lots cocottes beautiful dressed much about
+princesses like are dancing cancan and walking there parisian clowneries
+extra foolish for bachelors foreigns the same if talking a poor english
+how much smart they are on things love and sensations voluptuous.
+Misters very selects for is pleasure must to visit heaven and hell show
+with mortuary candles and they tears silver which occur every night.
+Perfectly shocking terrific of religion's things mockery seen in
+universal world. All chic womans which arrive full of modesty then
+disrobe and squeal loud to see vampire man debauch nun very fresh young
+with _dessous troublants_. _(He clacks his tongue loudly)_ _Ho, la la!
+Ce pif qu'il a!_
+
+LYNCH: _Vive le vampire!_
+
+THE WHORES: Bravo! Parleyvoo!
+
+STEPHEN: _(Grimacing with head back, laughs loudly, clapping himself)_
+Great success of laughing. Angels much prostitutes like and holy
+apostles big damn ruffians. _Demimondaines_ nicely handsome sparkling of
+diamonds very amiable costumed. Or do you are fond better what belongs
+they moderns pleasure turpitude of old mans? _(He points about him with
+grotesque gestures which Lynch and the whores reply to)_ Caoutchouc
+statue woman reversible or lifesize tompeeptom of virgins nudities very
+lesbic the kiss five ten times. Enter, gentleman, to see in mirror every
+positions trapezes all that machine there besides also if desire act
+awfully bestial butcher's boy pollutes in warm veal liver or omlet on
+the belly _pièce de Shakespeare._
+
+BELLA: _(Clapping her belly sinks back on the sofa, with a shout of
+laughter)_ An omelette on the... Ho! ho! ho! ho!... omelette on the...
+
+STEPHEN: _(Mincingly)_ I love you, sir darling. Speak you englishman
+tongue for _double entente cordiale._ O yes, _mon loup_. How much cost?
+Waterloo. Watercloset. _(He ceases suddenly and holds up a forefinger)_
+
+BELLA: _(Laughing)_ Omelette...
+
+THE WHORES: _(Laughing)_ Encore! Encore!
+
+STEPHEN: Mark me. I dreamt of a watermelon.
+
+ZOE: Go abroad and love a foreign lady.
+
+LYNCH: Across the world for a wife.
+
+FLORRY: Dreams goes by contraries.
+
+STEPHEN: _(Extends his arms)_ It was here. Street of harlots. In
+Serpentine avenue Beelzebub showed me her, a fubsy widow. Where's the
+red carpet spread?
+
+BLOOM: _(Approaching Stephen)_ Look...
+
+STEPHEN: No, I flew. My foes beneath me. And ever shall be. World
+without end. _(He cries) P_ater! Free!
+
+BLOOM: I say, look...
+
+STEPHEN: Break my spirit, will he? _O merde alors! (He cries, his
+vulture talons sharpened)_ Hola! Hillyho!
+
+_(Simon Dedalus' voice hilloes in answer, somewhat sleepy but ready.)_
+
+SIMON: That's all right. _(He swoops uncertainly through the air,
+wheeling, uttering cries of heartening, on strong ponderous buzzard
+wings)_ Ho, boy! Are you going to win? Hoop! Pschatt! Stable with those
+halfcastes. Wouldn't let them within the bawl of an ass. Head up! Keep
+our flag flying! An eagle gules volant in a field argent displayed.
+Ulster king at arms! Haihoop! _(He makes the beagle's call, giving
+tongue)_ Bulbul! Burblblburblbl! Hai, boy!
+
+_(The fronds and spaces of the wallpaper file rapidly across country.
+A stout fox, drawn from covert, brush pointed, having buried his
+grandmother, runs swift for the open, brighteyed, seeking badger earth,
+under the leaves. The pack of staghounds follows, nose to the ground,
+sniffing their quarry, beaglebaying, burblbrbling to be blooded. Ward
+Union huntsmen and huntswomen live with them, hot for a kill. From Six
+Mile Point, Flathouse, Nine Mile Stone follow the footpeople with knotty
+sticks, hayforks, salmongaffs, lassos, flockmasters with stockwhips,
+bearbaiters with tomtoms, toreadors with bullswords, greynegroes
+waving torches. The crowd bawls of dicers, crown and anchor players,
+thimbleriggers, broadsmen. Crows and touts, hoarse bookies in high
+wizard hats clamour deafeningly.)_
+
+THE CROWD:
+
+ Card of the races. Racing card!
+ Ten to one the field!
+ Tommy on the clay here! Tommy on the clay!
+ Ten to one bar one! Ten to one bar one!
+ Try your luck on Spinning Jenny!
+ Ten to one bar one!
+ Sell the monkey, boys! Sell the monkey!
+ I'll give ten to one!
+ Ten to one bar one!
+
+_(A dark horse, riderless, bolts like a phantom past the winningpost,
+his mane moonfoaming, his eyeballs stars. The field follows, a bunch of
+bucking mounts. Skeleton horses, Sceptre, Maximum the Second, Zinfandel,
+the Duke of Westminster's Shotover, Repulse, the Duke of Beaufort's
+Ceylon, prix de Paris. Dwarfs ride them, rustyarmoured, leaping, leaping
+in their, in their saddles. Last in a drizzle of rain on a brokenwinded
+isabelle nag, Cock of the North, the favourite, honey cap, green jacket,
+orange sleeves, Garrett Deasy up, gripping the reins, a hockeystick at
+the ready. His nag on spavined whitegaitered feet jogs along the rocky
+road.)_
+
+THE ORANGE LODGES: _(Jeering)_ Get down and push, mister. Last lap!
+You'll be home the night!
+
+GARRETT DEASY: _(Bolt upright, his nailscraped face plastered with
+postagestamps, brandishes his hockeystick, his blue eyes flashing in the
+prism of the chandelier as his mount lopes by at schooling gallop)_
+
+_Per vias rectas!_
+
+_(A yoke of buckets leopards all over him and his rearing nag a torrent
+of mutton broth with dancing coins of carrots, barley, onions, turnips,
+potatoes.)_
+
+THE GREEN LODGES: Soft day, sir John! Soft day, your honour!
+
+_(Private Carr, Private Compton and Cissy Caffrey pass beneath the
+windows, singing in discord.)_
+
+STEPHEN: Hark! Our friend noise in the street.
+
+ZOE: _(Holds up her hand)_ Stop!
+
+PRIVATE CARR, PRIVATE COMPTON AND CISSY CAFFREY:
+
+Yet I've a sort a Yorkshire relish for...
+
+ZOE: That's me. _(She claps her hands)_ Dance! Dance! _(She runs to the
+pianola)_ Who has twopence?
+
+BLOOM: Who'll...?
+
+LYNCH: _(Handing her coins)_ Here.
+
+STEPHEN: _(Cracking his fingers impatiently)_ Quick! Quick! Where's my
+augur's rod? _(He runs to the piano and takes his ashplant, beating his
+foot in tripudium)_
+
+ZOE: _(Turns the drumhandle)_ There.
+
+_(She drops two pennies in the slot. Gold, pink and violet lights
+start forth. The drum turns purring in low hesitation waltz. Professor
+Goodwin, in a bowknotted periwig, in court dress, wearing a stained
+inverness cape, bent in two from incredible age, totters across the
+room, his hands fluttering. He sits tinily on the pianostool and lifts
+and beats handless sticks of arms on the keyboard, nodding with damsel's
+grace, his bowknot bobbing)_
+
+ZOE: _(Twirls round herself, heeltapping)_ Dance. Anybody here for
+there? Who'll dance? Clear the table.
+
+_(The pianola with changing lights plays in waltz time the prelude of_
+My Girl's a Yorkshire Girl. _Stephen throws his ashplant on the table
+and seizes Zoe round the waist. Florry and Bella push the table towards
+the fireplace. Stephen, arming Zoe with exaggerated grace, begins to
+waltz her round the room. Bloom stands aside. Her sleeve filling from
+gracing arms reveals a white fleshflower of vaccination. Between the
+curtains Professor Maginni inserts a leg on the toepoint of which spins
+a silk hat. With a deft kick he sends it spinning to his crown and
+jauntyhatted skates in. He wears a slate frockcoat with claret silk
+lapels, a gorget of cream tulle, a green lowcut waistcoat, stock collar
+with white kerchief, tight lavender trousers, patent pumps and canary
+gloves. In his buttonhole is an immense dahlia. He twirls in reversed
+directions a clouded cane, then wedges it tight in his oxter. He places
+a hand lightly on his breastbone, bows, and fondles his flower and
+buttons.)_
+
+MAGINNI: The poetry of motion, art of calisthenics. No connection
+with Madam Legget Byrne's or Levenston's. Fancy dress balls arranged.
+Deportment. The Katty Lanner step. So. Watch me! My terpsichorean
+abilities. _(He minuets forward three paces on tripping bee's feet) Tout
+le monde en avant! Révérence! Tout le monde en place!_
+
+_(The prelude ceases. Professor Goodwin, beating vague arms shrivels,
+sinks, his live cape filling about the stool. The air in firmer waltz
+time sounds. Stephen and Zoe circle freely. The lights change, glow,
+fide gold rosy violet.)_
+
+THE PIANOLA:
+
+Two young fellows were talking about their girls, girls, girls,
+Sweethearts they'd left behind...
+
+_(From a corner the morning hours run out, goldhaired, slimsandalled,
+in girlish blue, waspwaisted, with innocent hands. Nimbly they dance,
+twirling their skipping ropes. The hours of noon follow in amber gold.
+Laughing, linked, high haircombs flashing, they catch the sun in mocking
+mirrors, lifting their arms.)_
+
+MAGINNI: _(Clipclaps glovesilent hands) Carré! Avant deux!_ Breathe
+evenly! _Balance!_
+
+_(The morning and noon hours waltz in their places, turning, advancing
+to each other, shaping their curves, bowing visavis. Cavaliers behind
+them arch and suspend their arms, with hands descending to, touching,
+rising from their shoulders.)_
+
+HOURS: You may touch my.
+
+CAVALIERS: May I touch your?
+
+HOURS: O, but lightly!
+
+CAVALIERS: O, so lightly!
+
+THE PIANOLA:
+
+My little shy little lass has a waist.
+
+_(Zoe and Stephen turn boldly with looser swing. The twilight hours
+advance from long landshadows, dispersed, lagging, languideyed, their
+cheeks delicate with cipria and false faint bloom. They are in grey
+gauze with dark bat sleeves that flutter in the land breeze.)_
+
+MAGINNI: _Avant huit! Traversé! Salut! Cours de mains! Croisé!_
+
+_(The night hours, one by one, steal to the last place. Morning, noon
+and twilight hours retreat before them. They are masked, with daggered
+hair and bracelets of dull bells. Weary they curchycurchy under veils.)_
+
+THE BRACELETS: Heigho! Heigho!
+
+ZOE: _(Twirling, her hand to her brow)_ O!
+
+MAGINNI: _Les tiroirs! Chaîne de dames! La corbeille! Dos à dos!_
+
+_(Arabesquing wearily they weave a pattern on the floor, weaving,
+unweaving, curtseying, twirling, simply swirling.)_
+
+ZOE: I'm giddy!
+
+_(She frees herself, droops on a chair. Stephen seizes Florry and turns
+with her.)_
+
+MAGINNI: Boulangère! Les ronds! Les ponts! Chevaux de bois! Escargots!
+
+_(Twining, receding, with interchanging hands the night hours link each
+each with arching arms in a mosaic of movements. Stephen and Florry turn
+cumbrously.)_
+
+MAGINNI: _Dansez avec vos dames! Changez de dames! Donnez le petit
+bouquet à votre dame! Remerciez!_
+
+THE PIANOLA:
+
+ Best, best of all,
+ Baraabum!
+
+KITTY: (JUMPS UP) O, they played that on the hobbyhorses at the Mirus
+bazaar!
+
+_(She runs to Stephen. He leaves florry brusquely and seizes Kitty.
+A screaming bittern's harsh high whistle shrieks. Groangrousegurgling
+Toft's cumbersome whirligig turns slowly the room right roundabout the
+room.)_
+
+THE PIANOLA:
+
+ My girl's a Yorkshire girl.
+
+ZOE:
+
+Yorkshire through and through.
+
+Come on all!
+
+_(She seizes Florry and waltzes her.)_
+
+STEPHEN: _Pas seul!_
+
+_(He wheels Kitty into Lynch's arms, snatches up his ashplant from
+the table and takes the floor. All wheel whirl waltz twirl. Bloombella
+Kittylynch Florryzoe jujuby women. Stephen with hat ashplant frogsplits
+in middle highkicks with skykicking mouth shut hand clasp part under
+thigh. With clang tinkle boomhammer tallyho hornblower blue green yellow
+flashes Toft's cumbersome turns with hobbyhorse riders from gilded
+snakes dangled, bowels fandango leaping spurn soil foot and fall
+again.)_
+
+THE PIANOLA:
+
+ Though she's a factory lass
+ And wears no fancy clothes.
+
+_(Closeclutched swift swifter with glareblareflare scudding they
+scootlootshoot lumbering by. Baraabum!)_
+
+TUTTI: Encore! Bis! Bravo! Encore!
+
+SIMON: Think of your mother's people!
+
+STEPHEN: Dance of death.
+
+_(Bang fresh barang bang of lacquey's bell, horse, nag, steer, piglings,
+Conmee on Christass, lame crutch and leg sailor in cockboat armfolded
+ropepulling hitching stamp hornpipe through and through. Baraabum! On
+nags hogs bellhorses Gadarene swine Corny in coffin Steel shark stone
+onehandled nelson two trickies Frauenzimmer plumstained from pram
+filling bawling gum he's a champion. Fuseblue peer from barrel rev.
+evensong Love on hackney jaunt Blazes blind coddoubled bicyclers Dilly
+with snowcake no fancy clothes. Then in last switchback lumbering up
+and down bump mashtub sort of viceroy and reine relish for tublumber
+bumpshire rose. Baraabum!)_
+
+_(The couples fall aside. Stephen whirls giddily. Room whirls back. Eyes
+closed he totters. Red rails fly spacewards. Stars all around suns turn
+roundabout. Bright midges dance on walls. He stops dead.)_
+
+STEPHEN: Ho!
+
+_(Stephen's mother, emaciated, rises stark through the floor, in leper
+grey with a wreath of faded orangeblossoms and a torn bridal veil, her
+face worn and noseless, green with gravemould. Her hair is scant and
+lank. She fixes her bluecircled hollow eyesockets on Stephen and opens
+her toothless mouth uttering a silent word. A choir of virgins and
+confessors sing voicelessly.)_
+
+THE CHOIR:
+
+ Liliata rutilantium te confessorum...
+ Iubilantium te virginum...
+
+_(from the top of a tower Buck Mulligan, in particoloured jester's dress
+of puce and yellow and clown's cap with curling bell, stands gaping at
+her, a smoking buttered split scone in his hand.)_
+
+BUCK MULLIGAN: She's beastly dead. The pity of it! Mulligan meets the
+afflicted mother. _(He upturns his eyes)_ Mercurial Malachi!
+
+THE MOTHER: _(With the subtle smile of death's madness)_ I was once the
+beautiful May Goulding. I am dead.
+
+STEPHEN: _(Horrorstruck)_ Lemur, who are you? No. What bogeyman's trick
+is this?
+
+BUCK MULLIGAN: _(Shakes his curling capbell)_ The mockery of it! Kinch
+dogsbody killed her bitchbody. She kicked the bucket. _(Tears of molten
+butter fall from his eyes on to the scone)_ Our great sweet mother! _Epi
+oinopa ponton._
+
+THE MOTHER: _(Comes nearer, breathing upon him softly her breath of
+wetted ashes)_ All must go through it, Stephen. More women than men in
+the world. You too. Time will come.
+
+STEPHEN: _(Choking with fright, remorse and horror)_ They say I killed
+you, mother. He offended your memory. Cancer did it, not I. Destiny.
+
+THE MOTHER: _(A green rill of bile trickling from a side of her mouth)_
+You sang that song to me. _Love's bitter mystery._
+
+STEPHEN: _(Eagerly)_ Tell me the word, mother, if you know now. The word
+known to all men.
+
+THE MOTHER: Who saved you the night you jumped into the train at
+Dalkey with Paddy Lee? Who had pity for you when you were sad among the
+strangers? Prayer is allpowerful. Prayer for the suffering souls in the
+Ursuline manual and forty days' indulgence. Repent, Stephen.
+
+STEPHEN: The ghoul! Hyena!
+
+THE MOTHER: I pray for you in my other world. Get Dilly to make you that
+boiled rice every night after your brainwork. Years and years I loved
+you, O, my son, my firstborn, when you lay in my womb.
+
+ZOE: _(Fanning herself with the grate fan)_ I'm melting!
+
+FLORRY: _(Points to Stephen)_ Look! He's white.
+
+BLOOM: _(Goes to the window to open it more)_ Giddy.
+
+THE MOTHER: _(With smouldering eyes)_ Repent! O, the fire of hell!
+
+STEPHEN: _(Panting)_ His noncorrosive sublimate! The corpsechewer! Raw
+head and bloody bones.
+
+THE MOTHER: _(Her face drawing near and nearer, sending out an ashen
+breath)_ Beware! _(She raises her blackened withered right arm slowly
+towards Stephen's breast with outstretched finger)_ Beware God's hand!
+_(A green crab with malignant red eyes sticks deep its grinning claws in
+Stephen's heart.)_
+
+STEPHEN: _(Strangled with rage)_ Shite! _(His features grow drawn grey
+and old)_
+
+BLOOM: _(At the window)_ What?
+
+STEPHEN: _Ah non, par exemple!_ The intellectual imagination! With me
+all or not at all. _Non serviam!_
+
+FLORRY: Give him some cold water. Wait. _(She rushes out)_
+
+THE MOTHER: _(Wrings her hands slowly, moaning desperately)_ O Sacred
+Heart of Jesus, have mercy on him! Save him from hell, O Divine Sacred
+Heart!
+
+STEPHEN: No! No! No! Break my spirit, all of you, if you can! I'll bring
+you all to heel!
+
+THE MOTHER: _(In the agony of her deathrattle)_ Have mercy on Stephen,
+Lord, for my sake! Inexpressible was my anguish when expiring with love,
+grief and agony on Mount Calvary.
+
+STEPHEN: _Nothung_!
+
+_(He lifts his ashplant high with both hands and smashes the chandelier.
+Time's livid final flame leaps and, in the following darkness, ruin of
+all space, shattered glass and toppling masonry.)_
+
+THE GASJET: Pwfungg!
+
+BLOOM: Stop!
+
+LYNCH: _(Rushes forward and seizes Stephen's hand)_ Here! Hold on! Don't
+run amok!
+
+BELLA: Police!
+
+_(Stephen, abandoning his ashplant, his head and arms thrown back stark,
+beats the ground and flies from the room, past the whores at the door.)_
+
+BELLA: _(Screams)_ After him!
+
+_(The two whores rush to the halldoor. Lynch and Kitty and Zoe stampede
+from the room. They talk excitedly. Bloom follows, returns.)_
+
+THE WHORES: _(Jammed in the doorway, pointing)_ Down there.
+
+ZOE: _(Pointing)_ There. There's something up.
+
+BELLA: Who pays for the lamp? _(She seizes Bloom's coattail)_ Here, you
+were with him. The lamp's broken.
+
+BLOOM: _(Rushes to the hall, rushes back)_ What lamp, woman?
+
+A WHORE: He tore his coat.
+
+BELLA: _(Her eyes hard with anger and cupidity, points)_ Who's to pay
+for that? Ten shillings. You're a witness.
+
+BLOOM: _(Snatches up Stephen's ashplant)_ Me? Ten shillings? Haven't you
+lifted enough off him? Didn't he...?
+
+BELLA: _(Loudly)_ Here, none of your tall talk. This isn't a brothel. A
+ten shilling house.
+
+BLOOM: _(His head under the lamp, pulls the chain. Puling, the gasjet
+lights up a crushed mauve purple shade. He raises the ashplant.)_ Only
+the chimney's broken. Here is all he...
+
+BELLA: _(Shrinks back and screams)_ Jesus! Don't!
+
+BLOOM: _(Warding off a blow)_ To show you how he hit the paper. There's
+not sixpenceworth of damage done. Ten shillings!
+
+FLORRY: _(With a glass of water, enters)_ Where is he?
+
+BELLA: Do you want me to call the police?
+
+BLOOM: O, I know. Bulldog on the premises. But he's a Trinity student.
+Patrons of your establishment. Gentlemen that pay the rent. _(He makes
+a masonic sign)_ Know what I mean? Nephew of the vice-chancellor. You
+don't want a scandal.
+
+BELLA: _(Angrily)_ Trinity. Coming down here ragging after the boatraces
+and paying nothing. Are you my commander here or? Where is he? I'll
+charge him! Disgrace him, I will! (She Shouts) Zoe! Zoe!
+
+BLOOM: _(Urgently)_ And if it were your own son in Oxford? _(Warningly)_
+I know.
+
+BELLA: _(Almost speechless)_ Who are. Incog!
+
+ZOE: _(In the doorway)_ There's a row on.
+
+BLOOM: What? Where? _(He throws a shilling on the table and starts)_
+That's for the chimney. Where? I need mountain air.
+
+_(He hurries out through the hall. The whores point. Florry follows,
+spilling water from her tilted tumbler. On the doorstep all the whores
+clustered talk volubly, pointing to the right where the fog has cleared
+off. From the left arrives a jingling hackney car. It slows to in front
+of the house. Bloom at the halldoor perceives Corny Kelleher who is
+about to dismount from the car with two silent lechers. He averts
+his face. Bella from within the hall urges on her whores. They blow
+ickylickysticky yumyum kisses. Corny Kelleher replies with a ghastly
+lewd smile. The silent lechers turn to pay the jarvey. Zoe and Kitty
+still point right. Bloom, parting them swiftly, draws his caliph's hood
+and poncho and hurries down the steps with sideways face. Incog Haroun
+al Raschid he flits behind the silent lechers and hastens on by the
+railings with fleet step of a pard strewing the drag behind him, torn
+envelopes drenched in aniseed. The ashplant marks his stride. A pack
+of bloodhounds, led by Hornblower of Trinity brandishing a dogwhip in
+tallyho cap and an old pair of grey trousers, follow from fir, picking
+up the scent, nearer, baying, panting, at fault, breaking away, throwing
+their tongues, biting his heels, leaping at his tail. He walks,
+runs, zigzags, gallops, lugs laid back. He is pelted with gravel,
+cabbagestumps, biscuitboxes, eggs, potatoes, dead codfish, woman's
+slipperslappers. After him freshfound the hue and cry zigzag gallops
+in hot pursuit of follow my leader: 65 C, 66 C, night watch, John Henry
+Menton, Wisdom Hely, V. B. Dillon, Councillor Nannetti, Alexander Keyes,
+Larry O'rourke, Joe Cuffe Mrs O'dowd, Pisser Burke, The Nameless One,
+Mrs Riordan, The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface,
+Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir
+Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Lenehan, Bartell d'Arcy, Joe Hynes,
+red Murray, editor Brayden, T. M. Healy, Mr Justice Fitzgibbon, John
+Howard Parnell, the reverend Tinned Salmon, Professor Joly, Mrs
+Breen, Denis Breen, Theodore Purefoy, Mina Purefoy, the Westland
+Row postmistress, C. P. M'Coy, friend of Lyons, Hoppy Holohan,
+maninthestreet, othermaninthestreet, Footballboots, pugnosed driver,
+rich protestant lady, Davy Byrne, Mrs Ellen M'Guinness, Mrs Joe
+Gallaher, George Lidwell, Jimmy Henry on corns, Superintendent Laracy,
+Father Cowley, Crofton out of the Collector-general's, Dan Dawson,
+dental surgeon Bloom with tweezers, Mrs Bob Doran, Mrs Kennefick, Mrs
+Wyse Nolan, John Wyse Nolan, handsomemarriedwomanrubbedagainstwide
+behindinClonskeatram, the bookseller of_ Sweets of Sin, _Miss
+Dubedatandshedidbedad, Mesdames Gerald and Stanislaus Moran of Roebuck,
+the managing clerk of Drimmie's, Wetherup, colonel Hayes, Mastiansky,
+Citron, Penrose, Aaron Figatner, Moses Herzog, Michael E Geraghty,
+Inspector Troy, Mrs Galbraith, the constable off Eccles Street corner,
+old doctor Brady with stethoscope, the mystery man on the beach, a
+retriever, Mrs Miriam Dandrade and all her lovers.)_
+
+THE HUE AND CRY: _(Helterskelterpelterwelter)_ He's Bloom! Stop Bloom!
+Stopabloom! Stopperrobber! Hi! Hi! Stophim on the corner!
+
+_(At the corner of Beaver Street beneath the scaffolding Bloom panting
+stops on the fringe of the noisy quarrelling knot, a lot not knowing a
+jot what hi! hi! row and wrangle round the whowhat brawlaltogether.)_
+
+STEPHEN: _(With elaborate gestures, breathing deeply and slowly)_ You
+are my guests. Uninvited. By virtue of the fifth of George and seventh
+of Edward. History to blame. Fabled by mothers of memory.
+
+PRIVATE CARR: _(To Cissy Caffrey)_ Was he insulting you?
+
+STEPHEN: Addressed her in vocative feminine. Probably neuter.
+Ungenitive.
+
+VOICES: No, he didn't. I seen him. The girl there. He was in Mrs
+Cohen's. What's up? Soldier and civilian.
+
+CISSY CAFFREY: I was in company with the soldiers and they left me to
+do--you know, and the young man run up behind me. But I'm faithful to
+the man that's treating me though I'm only a shilling whore.
+
+STEPHEN: _(Catches sight of Lynch's and Kitty's heads)_ Hail, Sisyphus.
+_(He points to himself and the others)_ Poetic. Uropoetic.
+
+VOICES: Shes faithfultheman.
+
+CISSY CAFFREY: Yes, to go with him. And me with a soldier friend.
+
+PRIVATE COMPTON: He doesn't half want a thick ear, the blighter. Biff
+him one, Harry.
+
+PRIVATE CARR: _(To Cissy)_ Was he insulting you while me and him was
+having a piss?
+
+LORD TENNYSON: _(Gentleman poet in Union Jack blazer and cricket
+flannels, bareheaded, flowingbearded)_ Theirs not to reason why.
+
+PRIVATE COMPTON: Biff him, Harry.
+
+STEPHEN: _(To Private Compton)_ I don't know your name but you are quite
+right. Doctor Swift says one man in armour will beat ten men in their
+shirts. Shirt is synechdoche. Part for the whole.
+
+CISSY CAFFREY: _(To The Crowd)_ No, I was with the privates.
+
+STEPHEN: _(Amiably)_ Why not? The bold soldier boy. In my opinion every
+lady for example...
+
+PRIVATE CARR: _(His cap awry, advances to Stephen)_ Say, how would it
+be, governor, if I was to bash in your jaw?
+
+STEPHEN: _(Looks up to the sky)_ How? Very unpleasant. Noble art of
+selfpretence. Personally, I detest action. _(He waves his hand)_ Hand
+hurts me slightly. _Enfin ce sont vos oignons._ _(To Cissy Caffrey)_
+Some trouble is on here. What is it precisely?
+
+DOLLY GRAY: _(From her balcony waves her handkerchief, giving the sign
+of the heroine of Jericho)_ Rahab. Cook's son, goodbye. Safe home to
+Dolly. Dream of the girl you left behind and she will dream of you.
+
+_(The soldiers turn their swimming eyes.)_
+
+BLOOM: _(Elbowing through the crowd, plucks Stephen's sleeve
+vigorously)_ Come now, professor, that carman is waiting.
+
+STEPHEN: _(Turns)_ Eh? _(He disengages himself)_ Why should I not speak
+to him or to any human being who walks upright upon this oblate orange?
+_(He points his finger)_ I'm not afraid of what I can talk to if I see
+his eye. Retaining the perpendicular.
+
+_(He staggers a pace back)_
+
+BLOOM: _(Propping him)_ Retain your own.
+
+STEPHEN: _(Laughs emptily)_ My centre of gravity is displaced. I have
+forgotten the trick. Let us sit down somewhere and discuss. Struggle
+for life is the law of existence but but human philirenists, notably the
+tsar and the king of England, have invented arbitration. _(He taps his
+brow)_ But in here it is I must kill the priest and the king.
+
+BIDDY THE CLAP: Did you hear what the professor said? He's a professor
+out of the college.
+
+CUNTY KATE: I did. I heard that.
+
+BIDDY THE CLAP: He expresses himself with such marked refinement of
+phraseology.
+
+CUNTY KATE: Indeed, yes. And at the same time with such apposite
+trenchancy.
+
+PRIVATE CARR: _(Pulls himself free and comes forward)_ What's that
+you're saying about my king?
+
+_(Edward the Seventh appears in an archway. He wars a white jersey on
+which an image of the Sacred Heart is stitched with the insignia of
+Garter and Thistle, Golden Fleece, Elephant of Denmark, Skinner's
+and Probyn's horse, Lincoln's Inn bencher and ancient and honourable
+artillery company of Massachusetts. He sucks a red jujube. He is robed
+as a grand elect perfect and sublime mason with trowel and apron,
+marked_ made in Germany. _In his left hand he holds a plasterer's bucket
+on which is printed_ Défense d'uriner. _A roar of welcome greets him.)_
+
+EDWARD THE SEVENTH: _(Slowly, solemnly but indistinctly)_ Peace, perfect
+peace. For identification, bucket in my hand. Cheerio, boys. _(He turns
+to his subjects)_ We have come here to witness a clean straight fight
+and we heartily wish both men the best of good luck. Mahak makar a bak.
+
+_(He shakes hands with Private Carr, Private Compton, Stephen, Bloom and
+Lynch. General applause. Edward the Seventh lifts his bucket graciously
+in acknowledgment.)_
+
+PRIVATE CARR: _(To Stephen)_ Say it again.
+
+STEPHEN: _(Nervous, friendly, pulls himself up)_ I understand your point
+of view though I have no king myself for the moment. This is the age of
+patent medicines. A discussion is difficult down here. But this is the
+point. You die for your country. Suppose. _(He places his arm on Private
+Carr's sleeve)_ Not that I wish it for you. But I say: Let my country
+die for me. Up to the present it has done so. I didn't want it to die.
+Damn death. Long live life!
+
+EDWARD THE SEVENTH: _(Levitates over heaps of slain, in the garb and
+with the halo of Joking Jesus, a white jujube in his phosphorescent
+face)_
+
+My methods are new and are causing surprise. To make the blind see I
+throw dust in their eyes.
+
+STEPHEN: Kings and unicorns! _(He fills back a pace)_ Come somewhere and
+we'll... What was that girl saying?...
+
+PRIVATE COMPTON: Eh, Harry, give him a kick in the knackers. Stick one
+into Jerry.
+
+BLOOM: _(To the privates, softly)_ He doesn't know what he's saying.
+Taken a little more than is good for him. Absinthe. Greeneyed monster. I
+know him. He's a gentleman, a poet. It's all right.
+
+STEPHEN: _(Nods, smiling and laughing)_ Gentleman, patriot, scholar and
+judge of impostors.
+
+PRIVATE CARR: I don't give a bugger who he is.
+
+PRIVATE COMPTON: We don't give a bugger who he is.
+
+STEPHEN: I seem to annoy them. Green rag to a bull.
+
+_(Kevin Egan of Paris in black Spanish tasselled shirt and peep-o'-day
+boy's hat signs to Stephen.)_
+
+KEVIN EGAN: H'lo! _Bonjour!_ The _vieille ogresse_ with the _dents
+jaunes_.
+
+_(Patrice Egan peeps from behind, his rabbitface nibbling a quince
+leaf.)_
+
+PATRICE: _Socialiste!_
+
+DON EMILE PATRIZIO FRANZ RUPERT POPE HENNESSY: _(In medieval hauberk,
+two wild geese volant on his helm, with noble indignation points a
+mailed hand against the privates)_ Werf those eykes to footboden, big
+grand porcos of johnyellows todos covered of gravy!
+
+BLOOM: _(To Stephen)_ Come home. You'll get into trouble.
+
+STEPHEN: _(Swaying)_ I don't avoid it. He provokes my intelligence.
+
+BIDDY THE CLAP: One immediately observes that he is of patrician
+lineage.
+
+THE VIRAGO: Green above the red, says he. Wolfe Tone.
+
+THE BAWD: The red's as good as the green. And better. Up the soldiers!
+Up King Edward!
+
+A ROUGH: _(Laughs)_ Ay! Hands up to De Wet.
+
+THE CITIZEN: _(With a huge emerald muffler and shillelagh, calls)_
+
+ May the God above
+ Send down a dove
+ With teeth as sharp as razors
+ To slit the throats
+ Of the English dogs
+ That hanged our Irish leaders.
+
+THE CROPPY BOY: _(The ropenoose round his neck, gripes in his issuing
+bowels with both hands)_
+
+I bear no hate to a living thing, But I love my country beyond the king.
+
+RUMBOLD, DEMON BARBER: _(Accompanied by two blackmasked assistants,
+advances with gladstone bag which he opens)_ Ladies and gents,
+cleaver purchased by Mrs Pearcy to slay Mogg. Knife with which Voisin
+dismembered the wife of a compatriot and hid remains in a sheet in the
+cellar, the unfortunate female's throat being cut from ear to ear. Phial
+containing arsenic retrieved from body of Miss Barron which sent Seddon
+to the gallows.
+
+_(He jerks the rope. The assistants leap at the victim's legs and drag
+him downward, grunting the croppy boy's tongue protrudes violently.)_
+
+THE CROPPY BOY:
+
+Horhot ho hray hor hother's hest.
+
+_(He gives up the ghost. A violent erection of the hanged sends gouts
+of sperm spouting through his deathclothes on to the cobblestones. Mrs
+Bellingham, Mrs Yelverton Barry and the Honourable Mrs Mervyn Talboys
+rush forward with their handkerchiefs to sop it up.)_
+
+RUMBOLD: I'm near it myself. _(He undoes the noose)_ Rope which hanged
+the awful rebel. Ten shillings a time. As applied to Her Royal Highness.
+_(He plunges his head into the gaping belly of the hanged and draws out
+his head again clotted with coiled and smoking entrails)_ My painful
+duty has now been done. God save the king!
+
+EDWARD THE SEVENTH: _(Dances slowly, solemnly, rattling his bucket, and
+sings with soft contentment)_
+
+On coronation day, on coronation day, O, won't we have a merry time,
+Drinking whisky, beer and wine!
+
+PRIVATE CARR: Here. What are you saying about my king?
+
+STEPHEN: _(Throws up his hands)_ O, this is too monotonous! Nothing.
+He wants my money and my life, though want must be his master, for
+some brutish empire of his. Money I haven't. _(He searches his pockets
+vaguely)_ GAVE IT TO SOMEONE.
+
+PRIVATE CARR: Who wants your bleeding money?
+
+STEPHEN: _(Tries to move off)_ Will someone tell me where I am least
+likely to meet these necessary evils? _Ça se voit aussi à paris._ Not
+that I... But, by Saint Patrick...!
+
+_(The women's heads coalesce. Old Gummy Granny in sugarloaf hat appears
+seated on a toadstool, the deathflower of the potato blight on her
+breast.)_
+
+STEPHEN: Aha! I know you, gammer! Hamlet, revenge! The old sow that eats
+her farrow!
+
+OLD GUMMY GRANNY: _(Rocking to and fro)_ Ireland's sweetheart, the king
+of Spain's daughter, alanna. Strangers in my house, bad manners to them!
+_(She keens with banshee woe)_ Ochone! Ochone! Silk of the kine! _(She
+wails)_ You met with poor old Ireland and how does she stand?
+
+STEPHEN: How do I stand you? The hat trick! Where's the third person of
+the Blessed Trinity? Soggarth Aroon? The reverend Carrion Crow.
+
+CISSY CAFFREY: _(Shrill)_ Stop them from fighting!
+
+A ROUGH: Our men retreated.
+
+PRIVATE CARR: _(Tugging at his belt)_ I'll wring the neck of any fucker
+says a word against my fucking king.
+
+BLOOM: _(Terrified)_ He said nothing. Not a word. A pure
+misunderstanding.
+
+THE CITIZEN: _Erin go bragh!_
+
+_(Major Tweedy and the Citizen exhibit to each other medals,
+decorations, trophies of war, wounds. Both salute with fierce
+hostility.)_
+
+PRIVATE COMPTON: Go it, Harry. Do him one in the eye. He's a proboer.
+
+STEPHEN: Did I? When?
+
+BLOOM: _(To the redcoats)_ We fought for you in South Africa, Irish
+missile troops. Isn't that history? Royal Dublin Fusiliers. Honoured by
+our monarch.
+
+THE NAVVY: _(Staggering past)_ O, yes! O God, yes! O, make the kwawr a
+krowawr! O! Bo!
+
+_(Casqued halberdiers in armour thrust forward a pentice of gutted
+spearpoints. Major Tweedy, moustached like Turko the terrible, in
+bearskin cap with hackleplume and accoutrements, with epaulettes, gilt
+chevrons and sabretaches, his breast bright with medals, toes the line.
+He gives the pilgrim warrior's sign of the knights templars.)_
+
+MAJOR TWEEDY: _(Growls gruffly)_ Rorke's Drift! Up, guards, and at them!
+Mahar shalal hashbaz.
+
+PRIVATE CARR: I'll do him in.
+
+PRIVATE COMPTON: _(Waves the crowd back)_ Fair play, here. Make a
+bleeding butcher's shop of the bugger.
+
+_(Massed bands blare_ Garryowen _and_ God save the King.)
+
+CISSY CAFFREY: They're going to fight. For me!
+
+CUNTY KATE: The brave and the fair.
+
+BIDDY THE CLAP: Methinks yon sable knight will joust it with the best.
+
+CUNTY KATE: _(Blushing deeply)_ Nay, madam. The gules doublet and merry
+saint George for me!
+
+STEPHEN:
+
+The harlot's cry from street to street Shall weave Old Ireland's
+windingsheet.
+
+PRIVATE CARR: _(Loosening his belt, shouts)_ I'll wring the neck of any
+fucking bastard says a word against my bleeding fucking king.
+
+BLOOM: _(Shakes Cissy Caffrey's shoulders)_ Speak, you! Are you struck
+dumb? You are the link between nations and generations. Speak, woman,
+sacred lifegiver!
+
+CISSY CAFFREY: _(Alarmed, seizes Private Carr's sleeve)_ Amn't I with
+you? Amn't I your girl? Cissy's your girl. _(She cries)_ Police!
+
+STEPHEN: _(Ecstatically, to Cissy Caffrey)_
+
+ White thy fambles, red thy gan
+ And thy quarrons dainty is.
+
+
+VOICES: Police!
+
+DISTANT VOICES: Dublin's burning! Dublin's burning! On fire, on fire!
+
+_(Brimstone fires spring up. Dense clouds roll past. Heavy Gatling guns
+boom. Pandemonium. Troops deploy. Gallop of hoofs. Artillery. Hoarse
+commands. Bells clang. Backers shout. Drunkards bawl. Whores screech.
+Foghorns hoot. Cries of valour. Shrieks of dying. Pikes clash on
+cuirasses. Thieves rob the slain. Birds of prey, winging from the sea,
+rising from marshlands, swooping from eyries, hover screaming, gannets,
+cormorants, vultures, goshawks, climbing woodcocks, peregrines, merlins,
+blackgrouse, sea eagles, gulls, albatrosses, barnacle geese. The
+midnight sun is darkened. The earth trembles. The dead of Dublin
+from Prospect and Mount Jerome in white sheepskin overcoats and black
+goatfell cloaks arise and appear to many. A chasm opens with a noiseless
+yawn. Tom Rochford, winner, in athlete's singlet and breeches, arrives
+at the head of the national hurdle handicap and leaps into the void.
+He is followed by a race of runners and leapers. In wild attitudes they
+spring from the brink. Their bodies plunge. Factory lasses with fancy
+clothes toss redhot Yorkshire baraabombs. Society ladies lift their
+skirts above their heads to protect themselves. Laughing witches in red
+cutty sarks ride through the air on broomsticks. Quakerlyster plasters
+blisters. It rains dragons' teeth. Armed heroes spring up from furrows.
+They exchange in amity the pass of knights of the red cross and fight
+duels with cavalry sabres: Wolfe Tone against Henry Grattan, Smith
+O'Brien against Daniel O'Connell, Michael Davitt against Isaac Butt,
+Justin M'Carthy against Parnell, Arthur Griffith against John Redmond,
+John O'Leary against Lear O'Johnny, Lord Edward Fitzgerald against Lord
+Gerald Fitzedward, The O'Donoghue of the Glens against The Glens of The
+O'Donoghue. On an eminence, the centre of the earth, rises the feldaltar
+of Saint Barbara. Black candles rise from its gospel and epistle horns.
+From the high barbacans of the tower two shafts of light fall on the
+smokepalled altarstone. On the altarstone Mrs Mina Purefoy, goddess of
+unreason, lies, naked, fettered, a chalice resting on her swollen belly.
+Father Malachi O'Flynn in a lace petticoat and reversed chasuble, his
+two left feet back to the front, celebrates camp mass. The Reverend Mr
+Hugh C Haines Love M. A. in a plain cassock and mortarboard, his head
+and collar back to the front, holds over the celebrant's head an open
+umbrella.)_
+
+FATHER MALACHI O'FLYNN: _Introibo ad altare diaboli._
+
+THE REVEREND MR HAINES LOVE: To the devil which hath made glad my young
+days.
+
+FATHER MALACHI O'FLYNN: _(Takes from the chalice and elevates a
+blooddripping host) Corpus meum._
+
+THE REVEREND MR HAINES LOVE: _(Raises high behind the celebrant's
+petticoat, revealing his grey bare hairy buttocks between which a carrot
+is stuck)_ My body.
+
+THE VOICE OF ALL THE DAMNED: Htengier Tnetopinmo Dog Drol eht rof,
+Aiulella!
+
+_(From on high the voice of Adonai calls.)_
+
+ADONAI: Dooooooooooog!
+
+THE VOICE OF ALL THE BLESSED: Alleluia, for the Lord God Omnipotent
+reigneth!
+
+_(From on high the voice of Adonai calls.)_
+
+ADONAI: Goooooooooood!
+
+_(In strident discord peasants and townsmen of Orange and Green factions
+sing_ Kick the Pope _and_ Daily, daily sing to Mary.)
+
+PRIVATE CARR: _(With ferocious articulation)_ I'll do him in, so help me
+fucking Christ! I'll wring the bastard fucker's bleeding blasted fucking
+windpipe!
+
+OLD GUMMY GRANNY: _(Thrusts a dagger towards Stephen's hand)_ Remove
+him, acushla. At 8.35 a.m. you will be in heaven and Ireland will be
+free. _(She prays)_ O good God, take him!
+
+(THE RETRIEVER, NOSING ON THE FRINGE OF THE CROWD, BARKS NOISILY.)
+
+BLOOM: _(Runs to lynch)_ Can't you get him away?
+
+LYNCH: He likes dialectic, the universal language. Kitty! _(To Bloom)_
+Get him away, you. He won't listen to me.
+
+_(He drags Kitty away.)_
+
+STEPHEN: _(Points) exit Judas. Et laqueo se suspendit._
+
+BLOOM: _(Runs to Stephen)_ Come along with me now before worse happens.
+Here's your stick.
+
+STEPHEN: Stick, no. Reason. This feast of pure reason.
+
+CISSY CAFFREY: _(Pulling Private Carr)_ Come on, you're boosed. He
+insulted me but I forgive him. _(Shouting in his ear)_ I forgive him for
+insulting me.
+
+BLOOM: _(Over Stephen's shoulder)_ Yes, go. You see he's incapable.
+
+PRIVATE CARR: _(Breaks loose)_ I'll insult him.
+
+_(He rushes towards Stephen, fist outstretched, and strikes him in the
+face. Stephen totters, collapses, falls, stunned. He lies prone, his
+face to the sky, his hat rolling to the wall. Bloom follows and picks it
+up.)_
+
+MAJOR TWEEDY: _(Loudly)_ Carbine in bucket! Cease fire! Salute!
+
+THE RETRIEVER: _(Barking furiously)_ Ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute.
+
+THE CROWD: Let him up! Don't strike him when he's down! Air! Who? The
+soldier hit him. He's a professor. Is he hurted? Don't manhandle him!
+He's fainted!
+
+A HAG: What call had the redcoat to strike the gentleman and he under
+the influence. Let them go and fight the Boers!
+
+THE BAWD: Listen to who's talking! Hasn't the soldier a right to go with
+his girl? He gave him the coward's blow.
+
+_(They grab at each other's hair, claw at each other and spit)_
+
+THE RETRIEVER: _(Barking)_ Wow wow wow.
+
+BLOOM: _(Shoves them back, loudly)_ Get back, stand back!
+
+PRIVATE COMPTON: _(Tugging his comrade)_ Here. Bugger off, Harry. Here's
+the cops! _(Two raincaped watch, tall, stand in the group.)_
+
+FIRST WATCH: What's wrong here?
+
+PRIVATE COMPTON: We were with this lady. And he insulted us. And
+assaulted my chum. _(The retriever barks)_ Who owns the bleeding tyke?
+
+CISSY CAFFREY: _(With expectation)_ Is he bleeding!
+
+A MAN: _(Rising from his knees)_ No. Gone off. He'll come to all right.
+
+BLOOM: _(Glances sharply at the man)_ Leave him to me. I can easily...
+
+SECOND WATCH: Who are you? Do you know him?
+
+PRIVATE CARR: _(Lurches towards the watch)_ He insulted my lady friend.
+
+BLOOM: _(Angrily)_ You hit him without provocation. I'm a witness.
+Constable, take his regimental number.
+
+SECOND WATCH: I don't want your instructions in the discharge of my
+duty.
+
+PRIVATE COMPTON: _(Pulling his comrade)_ Here, bugger off Harry. Or
+Bennett'll shove you in the lockup.
+
+PRIVATE CARR: _(Staggering as he is pulled away)_ God fuck old Bennett.
+He's a whitearsed bugger. I don't give a shit for him.
+
+FIRST WATCH: _(Takes out his notebook)_ What's his name?
+
+BLOOM: _(Peering over the crowd)_ I just see a car there. If you give me
+a hand a second, sergeant...
+
+FIRST WATCH: Name and address.
+
+_(Corny Kelleker, weepers round his hat, a death wreath in his hand,
+appears among the bystanders.)_
+
+BLOOM: _(Quickly)_ O, the very man! _(He whispers)_ Simon Dedalus' son.
+A bit sprung. Get those policemen to move those loafers back.
+
+SECOND WATCH: Night, Mr Kelleher.
+
+CORNY KELLEHER: _(To the watch, with drawling eye)_ That's all right.
+I know him. Won a bit on the races. Gold cup. Throwaway. _(He laughs)_
+Twenty to one. Do you follow me?
+
+FIRST WATCH: _(Turns to the crowd)_ Here, what are you all gaping at?
+Move on out of that.
+
+_(The crowd disperses slowly, muttering, down the lane.)_
+
+CORNY KELLEHER: Leave it to me, sergeant. That'll be all right. _(He
+laughs, shaking his head)_ We were often as bad ourselves, ay or worse.
+What? Eh, what?
+
+FIRST WATCH: _(Laughs)_ I suppose so.
+
+CORNY KELLEHER: _(Nudges the second watch)_ Come and wipe your name off
+the slate. _(He lilts, wagging his head)_ With my tooraloom tooraloom
+tooraloom tooraloom. What, eh, do you follow me?
+
+SECOND WATCH: _(Genially)_ Ah, sure we were too.
+
+CORNY KELLEHER: _(Winking)_ Boys will be boys. I've a car round there.
+
+SECOND WATCH: All right, Mr Kelleher. Good night.
+
+CORNY KELLEHER: I'll see to that.
+
+BLOOM: _(Shakes hands with both of the watch in turn)_ Thank you very
+much, gentlemen. Thank you. _(He mumbles confidentially)_ We don't want
+any scandal, you understand. Father is a wellknown highly respected
+citizen. Just a little wild oats, you understand.
+
+FIRST WATCH: O. I understand, sir.
+
+SECOND WATCH: That's all right, sir.
+
+FIRST WATCH: It was only in case of corporal injuries I'd have to report
+it at the station.
+
+BLOOM: _(Nods rapidly)_ Naturally. Quite right. Only your bounden duty.
+
+SECOND WATCH: It's our duty.
+
+CORNY KELLEHER: Good night, men.
+
+THE WATCH: _(Saluting together)_ Night, gentlemen. _(They move off with
+slow heavy tread)_
+
+BLOOM: _(Blows)_ Providential you came on the scene. You have a car?...
+
+CORNY KELLEHER: _(Laughs, pointing his thumb over his right shoulder to
+the car brought up against the scaffolding)_ Two commercials that were
+standing fizz in Jammet's. Like princes, faith. One of them lost two
+quid on the race. Drowning his grief. And were on for a go with the
+jolly girls. So I landed them up on Behan's car and down to nighttown.
+
+BLOOM: I was just going home by Gardiner street when I happened to...
+
+CORNY KELLEHER: _(Laughs)_ Sure they wanted me to join in with the mots.
+No, by God, says I. Not for old stagers like myself and yourself. _(He
+laughs again and leers with lacklustre eye)_ Thanks be to God we have it
+in the house, what, eh, do you follow me? Hah, hah, hah!
+
+BLOOM: _(Tries to laugh)_ He, he, he! Yes. Matter of fact I was just
+visiting an old friend of mine there, Virag, you don't know him (poor
+fellow, he's laid up for the past week) and we had a liquor together and
+I was just making my way home...
+
+_(The horse neighs.)_
+
+THE HORSE: Hohohohohohoh! Hohohohome!
+
+CORNY KELLEHER: Sure it was Behan our jarvey there that told me after
+we left the two commercials in Mrs Cohen's and I told him to pull up and
+got off to see. _(He laughs)_ Sober hearsedrivers a speciality. Will I
+give him a lift home? Where does he hang out? Somewhere in Cabra, what?
+
+BLOOM: No, in Sandycove, I believe, from what he let drop.
+
+_(Stephen, prone, breathes to the stars. Corny Kelleher, asquint, drawls
+at the horse. Bloom, in gloom, looms down.)_
+
+CORNY KELLEHER: _(Scratches his nape)_ Sandycove! _(He bends down and
+calls to Stephen)_ Eh! _(He calls again)_ Eh! He's covered with shavings
+anyhow. Take care they didn't lift anything off him.
+
+BLOOM: No, no, no. I have his money and his hat here and stick.
+
+CORNY KELLEHER: Ah, well, he'll get over it. No bones broken. Well, I'll
+shove along. _(He laughs)_ I've a rendezvous in the morning. Burying the
+dead. Safe home!
+
+THE HORSE: _(Neighs)_ Hohohohohome.
+
+BLOOM: Good night. I'll just wait and take him along in a few...
+
+_(Corny Kelleher returns to the outside car and mounts it. The horse
+harness jingles.)_
+
+CORNY KELLEHER: _(From the car, standing)_ Night.
+
+BLOOM: Night.
+
+_(The jarvey chucks the reins and raises his whip encouragingly. The
+car and horse back slowly, awkwardly, and turn. Corny Kelleher on the
+sideseat sways his head to and fro in sign of mirth at Bloom's plight.
+The jarvey joins in the mute pantomimic merriment nodding from the
+farther seat. Bloom shakes his head in mute mirthful reply. With thumb
+and palm Corny Kelleher reassures that the two bobbies will allow the
+sleep to continue for what else is to be done. With a slow nod Bloom
+conveys his gratitude as that is exactly what Stephen needs. The car
+jingles tooraloom round the corner of the tooraloom lane. Corny Kelleher
+again reassuralooms with his hand. Bloom with his hand assuralooms Corny
+Kelleher that he is reassuraloomtay. The tinkling hoofs and jingling
+harness grow fainter with their tooralooloo looloo lay. Bloom, holding
+in his hand Stephen's hat, festooned with shavings, and ashplant, stands
+irresolute. Then he bends to him and shakes him by the shoulder.)_
+
+BLOOM: Eh! Ho! _(There is no answer; he bends again)_ Mr Dedalus!
+_(There is no answer)_ The name if you call. Somnambulist. _(He bends
+again and hesitating, brings his mouth near the face of the prostrate
+form)_ Stephen! _(There is no answer. He calls again.)_ Stephen!
+
+STEPHEN: _(Groans)_ Who? Black panther. Vampire. _(He sighs and
+stretches himself, then murmurs thickly with prolonged vowels)_
+
+ Who... drive... Fergus now
+ And pierce... wood's woven shade?...
+
+_(He turns on his left side, sighing, doubling himself together.)_
+
+BLOOM: Poetry. Well educated. Pity. _(He bends again and undoes
+the buttons of Stephen's waistcoat)_ To breathe. _(He brushes the
+woodshavings from Stephen's clothes with light hand and fingers)_ One
+pound seven. Not hurt anyhow. _(He listens)_ What?
+
+STEPHEN: _(Murmurs)_
+
+ ... shadows... the woods
+ ... white breast... dim sea.
+
+_(He stretches out his arms, sighs again and curls his body. Bloom,
+holding the hat and ashplant, stands erect. A dog barks in the distance.
+Bloom tightens and loosens his grip on the ashplant. He looks down on
+Stephen's face and form.)_
+
+BLOOM: _(Communes with the night)_ Face reminds me of his poor mother.
+In the shady wood. The deep white breast. Ferguson, I think I caught. A
+girl. Some girl. Best thing could happen him. _(He murmurs)_... swear
+that I will always hail, ever conceal, never reveal, any part or parts,
+art or arts... _(He murmurs)_... in the rough sands of the sea... a
+cabletow's length from the shore... where the tide ebbs... and flows
+...
+
+_(Silent, thoughtful, alert he stands on guard, his fingers at his lips
+in the attitude of secret master. Against the dark wall a figure appears
+slowly, a fairy boy of eleven, a changeling, kidnapped, dressed in an
+eton suit with glass shoes and a little bronze helmet, holding a book
+in his hand. He reads from right to left inaudibly, smiling, kissing the
+page.)_
+
+BLOOM: _(Wonderstruck, calls inaudibly)_ Rudy!
+
+RUDY: _(Gazes, unseeing, into Bloom's eyes and goes on reading, kissing,
+smiling. He has a delicate mauve face. On his suit he has diamond and
+ruby buttons. In his free left hand he holds a slim ivory cane with a
+violet bowknot. A white lambkin peeps out of his waistcoat pocket.)_
+
+
+
+
+-- III --
+
+Preparatory to anything else Mr Bloom brushed off the greater bulk of
+the shavings and handed Stephen the hat and ashplant and bucked him up
+generally in orthodox Samaritan fashion which he very badly needed. His
+(Stephen's) mind was not exactly what you would call wandering but a bit
+unsteady and on his expressed desire for some beverage to drink Mr
+Bloom in view of the hour it was and there being no pump of Vartry water
+available for their ablutions let alone drinking purposes hit upon an
+expedient by suggesting, off the reel, the propriety of the cabman's
+shelter, as it was called, hardly a stonesthrow away near Butt bridge
+where they might hit upon some drinkables in the shape of a milk and
+soda or a mineral. But how to get there was the rub. For the nonce he
+was rather nonplussed but inasmuch as the duty plainly devolved upon him
+to take some measures on the subject he pondered suitable ways and means
+during which Stephen repeatedly yawned. So far as he could see he was
+rather pale in the face so that it occurred to him as highly advisable
+to get a conveyance of some description which would answer in their
+then condition, both of them being e.d.ed, particularly Stephen, always
+assuming that there was such a thing to be found. Accordingly after a
+few such preliminaries as brushing, in spite of his having forgotten
+to take up his rather soapsuddy handkerchief after it had done yeoman
+service in the shaving line, they both walked together along Beaver
+street or, more properly, lane as far as the farrier's and the
+distinctly fetid atmosphere of the livery stables at the corner of
+Montgomery street where they made tracks to the left from thence
+debouching into Amiens street round by the corner of Dan Bergin's. But
+as he confidently anticipated there was not a sign of a Jehu plying for
+hire anywhere to be seen except a fourwheeler, probably engaged by some
+fellows inside on the spree, outside the North Star hotel and there was
+no symptom of its budging a quarter of an inch when Mr Bloom, who was
+anything but a professional whistler, endeavoured to hail it by emitting
+a kind of a whistle, holding his arms arched over his head, twice.
+
+This was a quandary but, bringing common sense to bear on it, evidently
+there was nothing for it but put a good face on the matter and foot it
+which they accordingly did. So, bevelling around by Mullett's and the
+Signal House which they shortly reached, they proceeded perforce in the
+direction of Amiens street railway terminus, Mr Bloom being handicapped
+by the circumstance that one of the back buttons of his trousers had,
+to vary the timehonoured adage, gone the way of all buttons though,
+entering thoroughly into the spirit of the thing, he heroically made
+light of the mischance. So as neither of them were particularly pressed
+for time, as it happened, and the temperature refreshing since it
+cleared up after the recent visitation of Jupiter Pluvius, they dandered
+along past by where the empty vehicle was waiting without a fare or a
+jarvey. As it so happened a Dublin United Tramways Company's sandstrewer
+happened to be returning and the elder man recounted to his companion _Ã
+propos_ of the incident his own truly miraculous escape of some little
+while back. They passed the main entrance of the Great Northern railway
+station, the starting point for Belfast, where of course all traffic was
+suspended at that late hour and passing the backdoor of the morgue
+(a not very enticing locality, not to say gruesome to a degree, more
+especially at night) ultimately gained the Dock Tavern and in due course
+turned into Store street, famous for its C division police station.
+Between this point and the high at present unlit warehouses of Beresford
+place Stephen thought to think of Ibsen, associated with Baird's the
+stonecutter's in his mind somehow in Talbot place, first turning on the
+right, while the other who was acting as his _fidus Achates_ inhaled
+with internal satisfaction the smell of James Rourke's city bakery,
+situated quite close to where they were, the very palatable odour indeed
+of our daily bread, of all commodities of the public the primary and
+most indispensable. Bread, the staff of life, earn your bread, O tell me
+where is fancy bread, at Rourke's the baker's it is said.
+
+_En route_ to his taciturn and, not to put too fine a point on it, not
+yet perfectly sober companion Mr Bloom who at all events was in complete
+possession of his faculties, never more so, in fact disgustingly sober,
+spoke a word of caution re the dangers of nighttown, women of ill fame
+and swell mobsmen, which, barely permissible once in a while though not
+as a habitual practice, was of the nature of a regular deathtrap for
+young fellows of his age particularly if they had acquired drinking
+habits under the influence of liquor unless you knew a little jiujitsu
+for every contingency as even a fellow on the broad of his back could
+administer a nasty kick if you didn't look out. Highly providential
+was the appearance on the scene of Corny Kelleher when Stephen was
+blissfully unconscious but for that man in the gap turning up at the
+eleventh hour the finis might have been that he might have been a
+candidate for the accident ward or, failing that, the bridewell and
+an appearance in the court next day before Mr Tobias or, he being the
+solicitor rather, old Wall, he meant to say, or Mahony which simply
+spelt ruin for a chap when it got bruited about. The reason he mentioned
+the fact was that a lot of those policemen, whom he cordially disliked,
+were admittedly unscrupulous in the service of the Crown and, as Mr
+Bloom put it, recalling a case or two in the A division in Clanbrassil
+street, prepared to swear a hole through a ten gallon pot. Never on
+the spot when wanted but in quiet parts of the city, Pembroke road for
+example, the
+
+guardians of the law were well in evidence, the obvious reason being
+they were paid to protect the upper classes. Another thing he commented
+on was equipping soldiers with firearms or sidearms of any description
+liable to go off at any time which was tantamount to inciting them
+against civilians should by any chance they fall out over anything. You
+frittered away your time, he very sensibly maintained, and health and
+also character besides which, the squandermania of the thing, fast women
+of the _demimonde_ ran away with a lot of l s. d. into the bargain and
+the greatest danger of all was who you got drunk with though, touching
+the much vexed question of stimulants, he relished a glass of choice old
+wine in season as both
+
+nourishing and bloodmaking and possessing aperient virtues (notably a
+good burgundy which he was a staunch believer in) still never beyond
+a certain point where he invariably drew the line as it simply led to
+trouble all round to say nothing of your being at the tender mercy of
+others practically. Most of all he commented adversely on the desertion
+of Stephen by all his pubhunting _confreres_ but one, a most glaring
+piece of ratting on the part of his brother medicos under all the circs.
+
+--And that one was Judas, Stephen said, who up to then had said nothing
+whatsoever of any kind.
+
+Discussing these and kindred topics they made a beeline across the back
+of the Customhouse and passed under the Loop Line bridge where a brazier
+of coke burning in front of a sentrybox or something like one attracted
+their rather lagging footsteps. Stephen of his own accord stopped for
+no special reason to look at the heap of barren cobblestones and by
+the light emanating from the brazier he could just make out the darker
+figure of the corporation watchman inside the gloom of the sentrybox. He
+began to remember that this had happened or had been mentioned as having
+happened before but it cost him no small effort before he remembered
+that he recognised in the sentry a quondam friend of his father's,
+Gumley. To avoid a meeting he drew nearer to the pillars of the railway
+bridge.
+
+--Someone saluted you, Mr Bloom said.
+
+A figure of middle height on the prowl evidently under the arches
+saluted again, calling:
+
+--_Night!_
+
+Stephen of course started rather dizzily and stopped to return the
+compliment. Mr Bloom actuated by motives of inherent delicacy inasmuch
+as he always believed in minding his own business moved off but
+nevertheless remained on the _qui vive_ with just a shade of anxiety
+though not funkyish in the least. Though unusual in the Dublin area he
+knew that it was not by any means unknown for desperadoes who had next
+to nothing to live on to be abroad waylaying and generally terrorising
+peaceable pedestrians by placing a pistol at their head in some
+secluded spot outside the city proper, famished loiterers of the
+Thames embankment category they might be hanging about there or simply
+marauders ready to decamp with whatever boodle they could in one fell
+swoop at a moment's notice, your money or your life, leaving you there
+to point a moral, gagged and garrotted.
+
+Stephen, that is when the accosting figure came to close quarters,
+though he was not in an over sober state himself recognised Corley's
+breath redolent of rotten cornjuice. Lord John Corley some called him
+and his genealogy came about in this wise. He was the eldest son of
+inspector Corley of the G division, lately deceased, who had married
+a certain Katherine Brophy, the daughter of a Louth farmer. His
+grandfather Patrick Michael Corley of New Ross had married the widow
+of a publican there whose maiden name had been Katherine (also) Talbot.
+Rumour had it (though not proved) that she descended from the house of
+the lords Talbot de Malahide in whose mansion, really an unquestionably
+fine residence of its kind and well worth seeing, her mother or aunt or
+some relative, a woman, as the tale went, of extreme beauty, had enjoyed
+the distinction of being in service in the washkitchen. This therefore
+was the reason why the still comparatively young though dissolute
+man who now addressed Stephen was spoken of by some with facetious
+proclivities as Lord John Corley.
+
+Taking Stephen on one side he had the customary doleful ditty to tell.
+Not as much as a farthing to purchase a night's lodgings. His friends
+had all deserted him. Furthermore he had a row with Lenehan and called
+him to Stephen a mean bloody swab with a sprinkling of a number of other
+uncalledfor expressions. He was out of a job and implored of Stephen to
+tell him where on God's earth he could get something, anything at all,
+to do. No, it was the daughter of the mother in the washkitchen that
+was fostersister to the heir of the house or else they were connected
+through the mother in some way, both occurrences happening at the same
+time if the whole thing wasn't a complete fabrication from start to
+finish. Anyhow he was all in.
+
+--I wouldn't ask you only, pursued he, on my solemn oath and God knows
+I'm on the rocks.
+
+--There'll be a job tomorrow or next day, Stephen told him, in a boys'
+school at Dalkey for a gentleman usher. Mr Garrett Deasy. Try it. You
+may mention my name.
+
+--Ah, God, Corley replied, sure I couldn't teach in a school, man. I was
+never one of your bright ones, he added with a half laugh. I got stuck
+twice in the junior at the christian brothers.
+
+--I have no place to sleep myself, Stephen informed him.
+
+Corley at the first go-off was inclined to suspect it was something to
+do with Stephen being fired out of his digs for bringing in a bloody
+tart off the street. There was a dosshouse in Marlborough street, Mrs
+Maloney's, but it was only a tanner touch and full of undesirables but
+M'Conachie told him you got a decent enough do in the Brazen Head over
+in Winetavern street (which was distantly suggestive to the person
+addressed of friar Bacon) for a bob. He was starving too though he
+hadn't said a word about it.
+
+Though this sort of thing went on every other night or very near it
+still Stephen's feelings got the better of him in a sense though he knew
+that Corley's brandnew rigmarole on a par with the others was hardly
+deserving of much credence. However _haud ignarus malorum miseris
+succurrere disco_ etcetera as the Latin poet remarks especially as luck
+would have it he got paid his screw after every middle of the month on
+the sixteenth which was the date of the month as a matter of fact though
+a good bit of the wherewithal was demolished. But the cream of the joke
+was nothing would get it out of Corley's head that he was living in
+affluence and hadn't a thing to do but hand out the needful. Whereas.
+He put his hand in a pocket anyhow not with the idea of finding any food
+there but thinking he might lend him anything up to a bob or so in lieu
+so that he might endeavour at all events and get sufficient to eat but
+the result was in the negative for, to his chagrin, he found his cash
+missing. A few broken biscuits were all the result of his investigation.
+He tried his hardest to recollect for the moment whether he had lost
+as well he might have or left because in that contingency it was not a
+pleasant lookout, very much the reverse in fact. He was altogether too
+fagged out to institute a thorough search though he tried to recollect.
+About biscuits he dimly remembered. Who now exactly gave them he
+wondered or where was or did he buy. However in another pocket he came
+across what he surmised in the dark were pennies, erroneously however,
+as it turned out.
+
+--Those are halfcrowns, man, Corley corrected him.
+
+And so in point of fact they turned out to be. Stephen anyhow lent him
+one of them.
+
+--Thanks, Corley answered, you're a gentleman. I'll pay you back one
+time. Who's that with you? I saw him a few times in the Bleeding Horse
+in Camden street with Boylan, the billsticker. You might put in a good
+word for us to get me taken on there. I'd carry a sandwichboard only
+the girl in the office told me they're full up for the next three weeks,
+man. God, you've to book ahead, man, you'd think it was for the Carl
+Rosa. I don't give a shite anyway so long as I get a job, even as a
+crossing sweeper.
+
+Subsequently being not quite so down in the mouth after the two and six
+he got he informed Stephen about a fellow by the name of Bags Comisky
+that he said Stephen knew well out of Fullam's, the shipchandler's,
+bookkeeper there that used to be often round in Nagle's back with O'Mara
+and a little chap with a stutter the name of Tighe. Anyhow he was lagged
+the night before last and fined ten bob for a drunk and disorderly and
+refusing to go with the constable.
+
+210
+
+Mr Bloom in the meanwhile kept dodging about in the vicinity of the
+cobblestones near the brazier of coke in front of the corporation
+watchman's sentrybox who evidently a glutton for work, it struck him,
+was having a quiet forty winks for all intents and purposes on his own
+private account while Dublin slept. He threw an odd eye at the same time
+now and then at Stephen's anything but immaculately attired interlocutor
+as if he had seen that nobleman somewhere or other though where he was
+not in a position to truthfully state nor had he the remotest idea when.
+Being a levelheaded individual who could give points to not a few in
+point of shrewd observation he also remarked on his very dilapidated
+hat and slouchy wearing apparel generally testifying to a chronic
+impecuniosity. Palpably he was one of his hangerson but for the
+matter of that it was merely a question of one preying on his nextdoor
+neighbour all round, in every deep, so to put it, a deeper depth and for
+the matter of that if the man in the street chanced to be in the dock
+himself penal servitude with or without the option of a fine would be
+a very rara avis altogether. In any case he had a consummate amount of
+cool assurance intercepting people at that hour of the night or morning.
+Pretty thick that was certainly.
+
+The pair parted company and Stephen rejoined Mr Bloom who, with his
+practised eye, was not without perceiving that he had succumbed to the
+blandiloquence of the other parasite. Alluding to the encounter he said,
+laughingly, Stephen, that is:
+
+--He is down on his luck. He asked me to ask you to ask somebody named
+Boylan, a billsticker, to give him a job as a sandwichman.
+
+At this intelligence, in which he seemingly evinced little interest, Mr
+Bloom gazed abstractedly for the space of a half a second or so in the
+direction of a bucketdredger, rejoicing in the farfamed name of Eblana,
+moored alongside Customhouse quay and quite possibly out of repair,
+whereupon he observed evasively:
+
+--Everybody gets their own ration of luck, they say. Now you mention it
+his face was familiar to me. But, leaving that for the moment, how much
+did you part with, he queried, if I am not too inquisitive?
+
+--Half a crown, Stephen responded. I daresay he needs it to sleep
+somewhere.
+
+--Needs! Mr Bloom ejaculated, professing not the least surprise at
+the intelligence, I can quite credit the assertion and I guarantee he
+invariably does. Everyone according to his needs or everyone according
+to his deeds. But, talking about things in general, where, added he with
+a smile, will you sleep yourself? Walking to Sandycove is out of
+the question. And even supposing you did you won't get in after what
+occurred at Westland Row station. Simply fag out there for nothing. I
+don't mean to presume to dictate to you in the slightest degree but why
+did you leave your father's house?
+
+--To seek misfortune, was Stephen's answer.
+
+--I met your respected father on a recent occasion, Mr Bloom
+diplomatically returned, today in fact, or to be strictly accurate, on
+yesterday. Where does he live at present? I gathered in the course of
+conversation that he had moved.
+
+--I believe he is in Dublin somewhere, Stephen answered unconcernedly.
+Why?
+
+--A gifted man, Mr Bloom said of Mr Dedalus senior, in more respects
+than one and a born _raconteur_ if ever there was one. He takes great
+pride, quite legitimate, out of you. You could go back perhaps, he
+hasarded, still thinking of the very unpleasant scene at Westland Row
+terminus when it was perfectly evident that the other two, Mulligan,
+that is, and that English tourist friend of his, who eventually euchred
+their third companion, were patently trying as if the whole bally
+station belonged to them to give Stephen the slip in the confusion,
+which they did.
+
+There was no response forthcoming to the suggestion however, such as it
+was, Stephen's mind's eye being too busily engaged in repicturing his
+family hearth the last time he saw it with his sister Dilly sitting by
+the ingle, her hair hanging down, waiting for some weak Trinidad shell
+cocoa that was in the sootcoated kettle to be done so that she and he
+could drink it with the oatmealwater for milk after the Friday herrings
+they had eaten at two a penny with an egg apiece for Maggy, Boody and
+Katey, the cat meanwhile under the mangle devouring a mess of eggshells
+and charred fish heads and bones on a square of brown paper, in
+accordance with the third precept of the church to fast and abstain
+on the days commanded, it being quarter tense or if not, ember days or
+something like that.
+
+--No, Mr Bloom repeated again, I wouldn't personally repose much trust
+in that boon companion of yours who contributes the humorous element, Dr
+Mulligan, as a guide, philosopher and friend if I were in your shoes. He
+knows which side his bread is buttered on though in all probability he
+never realised what it is to be without regular meals. Of course you
+didn't notice as much as I did. But it wouldn't occasion me the least
+surprise to learn that a pinch of tobacco or some narcotic was put in
+your drink for some ulterior object.
+
+He understood however from all he heard that Dr Mulligan was a versatile
+allround man, by no means confined to medicine only, who was rapidly
+coming to the fore in his line and, if the report was verified, bade
+fair to enjoy a flourishing practice in the not too distant future as
+a tony medical practitioner drawing a handsome fee for his services
+in addition to which professional status his rescue of that man from
+certain drowning by artificial respiration and what they call first
+aid at Skerries, or Malahide was it?, was, he was bound to admit, an
+exceedingly plucky deed which he could not too highly praise, so that
+frankly he was utterly at a loss to fathom what earthly reason could be
+at the back of it except he put it down to sheer cussedness or jealousy,
+pure and simple.
+
+--Except it simply amounts to one thing and he is what they call picking
+your brains, he ventured to throw out.
+
+The guarded glance of half solicitude half curiosity augmented by
+friendliness which he gave at Stephen's at present morose expression
+of features did not throw a flood of light, none at all in fact on the
+problem as to whether he had let himself be badly bamboozled to judge by
+two or three lowspirited remarks he let drop or the other way about saw
+through the affair and for some reason or other best known to himself
+allowed matters to more or less. Grinding poverty did have that effect
+and he more than conjectured that, high educational abilities though he
+possessed, he experienced no little difficulty in making both ends meet.
+
+Adjacent to the men's public urinal they perceived an icecream car round
+which a group of presumably Italians in heated altercation were getting
+rid of voluble expressions in their vivacious language in a particularly
+animated way, there being some little differences between the parties.
+
+--_Puttana madonna, che ci dia i quattrini! Ho ragione? Culo rotto!_
+
+_--Intendiamoci. Mezzo sovrano piu..._
+
+_--Dice lui, pero!_
+
+_--Mezzo._
+
+_--Farabutto! Mortacci sui!_
+
+_--Ma ascolta! Cinque la testa piu..._
+
+Mr Bloom and Stephen entered the cabman's shelter, an unpretentious
+wooden structure, where, prior to then, he had rarely if ever been
+before, the former having previously whispered to the latter a few
+hints anent the keeper of it said to be the once famous Skin-the-Goat
+Fitzharris, the invincible, though he could not vouch for the actual
+facts which quite possibly there was not one vestige of truth in. A few
+moments later saw our two noctambules safely seated in a discreet corner
+only to be greeted by stares from the decidedly miscellaneous collection
+of waifs and strays and other nondescript specimens of the genus _homo_
+already there engaged in eating and drinking diversified by conversation
+for whom they seemingly formed an object of marked curiosity.
+
+--Now touching a cup of coffee, Mr Bloom ventured to plausibly suggest
+to break the ice, it occurs to me you ought to sample something in the
+shape of solid food, say, a roll of some description.
+
+Accordingly his first act was with characteristic _sangfroid_ to order
+these commodities quietly. The _hoi polloi_ of jarvies or stevedores
+or whatever they were after a cursory examination turned their eyes
+apparently dissatisfied, away though one redbearded bibulous individual
+portion of whose hair was greyish, a sailor probably, still stared for
+some appreciable time before transferring his rapt attention to the
+floor. Mr Bloom, availing himself of the right of free speech, he having
+just a bowing acquaintance with the language in dispute, though, to be
+sure, rather in a quandary over _voglio_, remarked to his _protégé_ in
+an audible tone of voice _a propos_ of the battle royal in the street
+which was still raging fast and furious:
+
+--A beautiful language. I mean for singing purposes. Why do you not
+write your poetry in that language? _Bella Poetria_! It is so melodious
+and full. _Belladonna. Voglio._
+
+Stephen, who was trying his dead best to yawn if he could, suffering
+from lassitude generally, replied:
+
+--To fill the ear of a cow elephant. They were haggling over money.
+
+--Is that so? Mr Bloom asked. Of course, he subjoined pensively, at the
+inward reflection of there being more languages to start with than were
+absolutely necessary, it may be only the southern glamour that surrounds
+it.
+
+The keeper of the shelter in the middle of this _tête-â-tête_ put a
+boiling swimming cup of a choice concoction labelled coffee on the table
+and a rather antediluvian specimen of a bun, or so it seemed. After
+which he beat a retreat to his counter, Mr Bloom determining to have
+a good square look at him later on so as not to appear to. For which
+reason he encouraged Stephen to proceed with his eyes while he did
+the honours by surreptitiously pushing the cup of what was temporarily
+supposed to be called coffee gradually nearer him.
+
+--Sounds are impostures, Stephen said after a pause of some little time,
+like names. Cicero, Podmore. Napoleon, Mr Goodbody. Jesus, Mr Doyle.
+Shakespeares were as common as Murphies. What's in a name?
+
+--Yes, to be sure, Mr Bloom unaffectedly concurred. Of course. Our name
+was changed too, he added, pushing the socalled roll across.
+
+The redbearded sailor who had his weather eye on the newcomers boarded
+Stephen, whom he had singled out for attention in particular, squarely
+by asking:
+
+--And what might your name be?
+
+Just in the nick of time Mr Bloom touched his companion's boot but
+Stephen, apparently disregarding the warm pressure from an unexpected
+quarter, answered:
+
+--Dedalus.
+
+The sailor stared at him heavily from a pair of drowsy baggy eyes,
+rather bunged up from excessive use of boose, preferably good old
+Hollands and water.
+
+--You know Simon Dedalus? he asked at length.
+
+--I've heard of him, Stephen said.
+
+Mr Bloom was all at sea for a moment, seeing the others evidently
+eavesdropping too.
+
+--He's Irish, the seaman bold affirmed, staring still in much the same
+way and nodding. All Irish.
+
+--All too Irish, Stephen rejoined.
+
+As for Mr Bloom he could neither make head or tail of the whole business
+and he was just asking himself what possible connection when the sailor
+of his own accord turned to the other occupants of the shelter with the
+remark:
+
+--I seen him shoot two eggs off two bottles at fifty yards over his
+shoulder. The lefthand dead shot.
+
+Though he was slightly hampered by an occasional stammer and his
+gestures being also clumsy as it was still he did his best to explain.
+
+--Bottles out there, say. Fifty yards measured. Eggs on the bottles.
+Cocks his gun over his shoulder. Aims.
+
+He turned his body half round, shut up his right eye completely. Then he
+screwed his features up someway sideways and glared out into the night
+with an unprepossessing cast of countenance.
+
+--Pom! he then shouted once.
+
+The entire audience waited, anticipating an additional detonation, there
+being still a further egg.
+
+--Pom! he shouted twice.
+
+Egg two evidently demolished, he nodded and winked, adding
+bloodthirstily:
+
+_--Buffalo Bill shoots to kill, Never missed nor he never will._
+
+A silence ensued till Mr Bloom for agreeableness' sake just felt like
+asking him whether it was for a marksmanship competition like the
+Bisley.
+
+--Beg pardon, the sailor said.
+
+--Long ago? Mr Bloom pursued without flinching a hairsbreadth.
+
+--Why, the sailor replied, relaxing to a certain extent under the magic
+influence of diamond cut diamond, it might be a matter of ten years. He
+toured the wide world with Hengler's Royal Circus. I seen him do that in
+Stockholm.
+
+--Curious coincidence, Mr Bloom confided to Stephen unobtrusively.
+
+--Murphy's my name, the sailor continued. D. B. Murphy of Carrigaloe.
+Know where that is?
+
+--Queenstown harbour, Stephen replied.
+
+--That's right, the sailor said. Fort Camden and Fort Carlisle. That's
+where I hails from. I belongs there. That's where I hails from. My
+little woman's down there. She's waiting for me, I know. _For England,
+home and beauty_. She's my own true wife I haven't seen for seven years
+now, sailing about.
+
+Mr Bloom could easily picture his advent on this scene, the homecoming
+to the mariner's roadside shieling after having diddled Davy Jones,
+a rainy night with a blind moon. Across the world for a wife. Quite a
+number of stories there were on that particular Alice Ben Bolt topic,
+Enoch Arden and Rip van Winkle and does anybody hereabouts remember Caoc
+O'Leary, a favourite and most trying declamation piece by the way of
+poor John Casey and a bit of perfect poetry in its own small way.
+Never about the runaway wife coming back, however much devoted to the
+absentee. The face at the window! Judge of his astonishment when he
+finally did breast the tape and the awful truth dawned upon him anent
+his better half, wrecked in his affections. You little expected me but
+I've come to stay and make a fresh start. There she sits, a grasswidow,
+at the selfsame fireside. Believes me dead, rocked in the cradle of the
+deep. And there sits uncle Chubb or Tomkin, as the case might be, the
+publican of the Crown and Anchor, in shirtsleeves, eating rumpsteak and
+onions. No chair for father. Broo! The wind! Her brandnew arrival is on
+her knee, _post mortem_ child. With a high ro! and a randy ro! and my
+galloping tearing tandy, O! Bow to the inevitable. Grin and bear it. I
+remain with much love your brokenhearted husband D B Murphy.
+
+The sailor, who scarcely seemed to be a Dublin resident, turned to one
+of the jarvies with the request:
+
+--You don't happen to have such a thing as a spare chaw about you?
+
+The jarvey addressed as it happened had not but the keeper took a die of
+plug from his good jacket hanging on a nail and the desired object was
+passed from hand to hand.
+
+--Thank you, the sailor said.
+
+He deposited the quid in his gob and, chewing and with some slow
+stammers, proceeded:
+
+--We come up this morning eleven o'clock. The threemaster _Rosevean_
+from Bridgwater with bricks. I shipped to get over. Paid off this
+afternoon. There's my discharge. See? D. B. Murphy. A. B. S.
+
+In confirmation of which statement he extricated from an inside pocket
+and handed to his neighbour a not very cleanlooking folded document.
+
+--You must have seen a fair share of the world, the keeper remarked,
+leaning on the counter.
+
+--Why, the sailor answered upon reflection upon it, I've circumnavigated
+a bit since I first joined on. I was in the Red Sea. I was in China and
+North America and South America. We was chased by pirates one voyage.
+I seen icebergs plenty, growlers. I was in Stockholm and the Black Sea,
+the Dardanelles under Captain Dalton, the best bloody man that ever
+scuttled a ship. I seen Russia. _Gospodi pomilyou_. That's how the
+Russians prays.
+
+--You seen queer sights, don't be talking, put in a jarvey.
+
+--Why, the sailor said, shifting his partially chewed plug. I seen
+queer things too, ups and downs. I seen a crocodile bite the fluke of an
+anchor same as I chew that quid.
+
+He took out of his mouth the pulpy quid and, lodging it between his
+teeth, bit ferociously:
+
+--Khaan! Like that. And I seen maneaters in Peru that eats corpses and
+the livers of horses. Look here. Here they are. A friend of mine sent
+me.
+
+He fumbled out a picture postcard from his inside pocket which seemed to
+be in its way a species of repository and pushed it along the table. The
+printed matter on it stated: _Choza de Indios. Beni, Bolivia._
+
+All focussed their attention at the scene exhibited, a group of savage
+women in striped loincloths, squatted, blinking, suckling, frowning,
+sleeping amid a swarm of infants (there must have been quite a score of
+them) outside some primitive shanties of osier.
+
+--Chews coca all day, the communicative tarpaulin added. Stomachs
+like breadgraters. Cuts off their diddies when they can't bear no more
+children.
+
+See them sitting there stark ballocknaked eating a dead horse's liver
+raw.
+
+His postcard proved a centre of attraction for Messrs the greenhorns for
+several minutes if not more.
+
+--Know how to keep them off? he inquired generally.
+
+Nobody volunteering a statement he winked, saying:
+
+--Glass. That boggles 'em. Glass.
+
+Mr Bloom, without evincing surprise, unostentatiously turned over the
+card to peruse the partially obliterated address and postmark. It ran
+as follows: _Tarjeta Postal, Señor A Boudin, Galeria Becche, Santiago,
+Chile._ There was no message evidently, as he took particular notice.
+Though not an implicit believer in the lurid story narrated (or the
+eggsniping transaction for that matter despite William Tell and the
+Lazarillo-Don Cesar de Bazan incident depicted in _Maritana_ on which
+occasion the former's ball passed through the latter's hat) having
+detected a discrepancy between his name (assuming he was the person
+he represented himself to be and not sailing under false colours
+after having boxed the compass on the strict q.t. somewhere) and
+the fictitious addressee of the missive which made him nourish some
+suspicions of our friend's _bona fides_ nevertheless it reminded him in
+a way of a longcherished plan he meant to one day realise some Wednesday
+or Saturday of travelling to London via long sea not to say that he had
+ever travelled extensively to any great extent but he was at heart a
+born adventurer though by a trick of fate he had consistently remained
+a landlubber except you call going to Holyhead which was his longest.
+Martin Cunningham frequently said he would work a pass through Egan but
+some deuced hitch or other eternally cropped up with the net result that
+the scheme fell through. But even suppose it did come to planking
+down the needful and breaking Boyd's heart it was not so dear, purse
+permitting, a few guineas at the outside considering the fare to
+Mullingar where he figured on going was five and six, there and back.
+The trip would benefit health on account of the bracing ozone and be in
+every way thoroughly pleasurable, especially for a chap whose liver was
+out of order, seeing the different places along the route, Plymouth,
+Falmouth, Southampton and so on culminating in an instructive tour of
+the sights of the great metropolis, the spectacle of our modern Babylon
+where doubtless he would see the greatest improvement, tower, abbey,
+wealth of Park lane to renew acquaintance with. Another thing just
+struck him as a by no means bad notion was he might have a gaze around
+on the spot to see about trying to make arrangements about a concert
+tour of summer music embracing the most prominent pleasure resorts,
+Margate with mixed bathing and firstrate hydros and spas, Eastbourne,
+Scarborough, Margate and so on, beautiful Bournemouth, the Channel
+islands and similar bijou spots, which might prove highly remunerative.
+Not, of course, with a hole and corner scratch company or local ladies
+on the job, witness Mrs C P M'Coy type lend me your valise and I'll post
+you the ticket. No, something top notch, an all star Irish caste, the
+Tweedy-Flower grand opera company with his own legal consort as leading
+lady as a sort of counterblast to the Elster Grimes and Moody-Manners,
+perfectly simple matter and he was quite sanguine of success, providing
+puffs in the local papers could be managed by some fellow with a bit of
+bounce who could pull the indispensable wires and thus combine business
+with pleasure. But who? That was the rub. Also, without being actually
+positive, it struck him a great field was to be opened up in the line
+of opening up new routes to keep pace with the times _apropos_ of the
+Fishguard-Rosslare route which, it was mooted, was once more on the
+_tapis_ in the circumlocution departments with the usual quantity of red
+tape and dillydallying of effete fogeydom and dunderheads generally. A
+great opportunity there certainly was for push and enterprise to meet
+the travelling needs of the public at large, the average man, i.e.
+Brown, Robinson and Co.
+
+It was a subject of regret and absurd as well on the face of it and no
+small blame to our vaunted society that the man in the street, when the
+system really needed toning up, for the matter of a couple of paltry
+pounds was debarred from seeing more of the world they lived in instead
+of being always and ever cooped up since my old stick-in-the-mud took me
+for a wife. After all, hang it, they had their eleven and more humdrum
+months of it and merited a radical change of _venue_ after the grind
+of city life in the summertime for choice when dame Nature is at her
+spectacular best constituting nothing short of a new lease of life.
+There were equally excellent opportunities for vacationists in the home
+island, delightful sylvan spots for rejuvenation, offering a plethora
+of attractions as well as a bracing tonic for the system in and around
+Dublin and its picturesque environs even, Poulaphouca to which there was
+a steamtram, but also farther away from the madding crowd in Wicklow,
+rightly termed the garden of Ireland, an ideal neighbourhood for elderly
+wheelmen so long as it didn't come down, and in the wilds of Donegal
+where if report spoke true the _coup d'oeil_ was exceedingly grand
+though the lastnamed locality was not easily getatable so that the
+influx of visitors was not as yet all that it might be considering the
+signal benefits to be derived from it while Howth with its historic
+associations and otherwise, Silken Thomas, Grace O'Malley, George IV,
+rhododendrons several hundred feet above sealevel was a favourite haunt
+with all sorts and conditions of men especially in the spring when young
+men's fancy, though it had its own toll of deaths by falling off the
+cliffs by design or accidentally, usually, by the way, on their left
+leg, it being only about three quarters of an hour's run from the
+pillar. Because of course uptodate tourist travelling was as yet merely
+in its infancy, so to speak, and the accommodation left much to be
+desired. Interesting to fathom it seemed to him from a motive of
+curiosity, pure and simple, was whether it was the traffic that created
+the route or viceversa or the two sides in fact. He turned back the
+other side of the card, picture, and passed it along to Stephen.
+
+--I seen a Chinese one time, related the doughty narrator, that had
+little pills like putty and he put them in the water and they opened and
+every pill was something different. One was a ship, another was a house,
+another was a flower. Cooks rats in your soup, he appetisingly added,
+the chinks does.
+
+Possibly perceiving an expression of dubiosity on their faces the
+globetrotter went on, adhering to his adventures.
+
+--And I seen a man killed in Trieste by an Italian chap. Knife in his
+back. Knife like that.
+
+Whilst speaking he produced a dangerouslooking claspknife quite in
+keeping with his character and held it in the striking position.
+
+--In a knockingshop it was count of a tryon between two smugglers.
+Fellow hid behind a door, come up behind him. Like that. _Prepare to
+meet your God_, says he. Chuk! It went into his back up to the butt.
+
+His heavy glance drowsily roaming about kind of defied their further
+questions even should they by any chance want to.
+
+--That's a good bit of steel, repeated he, examining his formidable
+_stiletto_.
+
+After which harrowing _denouement_ sufficient to appal the stoutest he
+snapped the blade to and stowed the weapon in question away as before in
+his chamber of horrors, otherwise pocket.
+
+--They're great for the cold steel, somebody who was evidently quite in
+the dark said for the benefit of them all. That was why they thought
+the park murders of the invincibles was done by foreigners on account of
+them using knives.
+
+At this remark passed obviously in the spirit of _where ignorance
+is bliss_ Mr B. and Stephen, each in his own particular way, both
+instinctively exchanged meaning glances, in a religious silence of the
+strictly _entre nous_ variety however, towards where Skin-the-Goat,
+_alias_ the keeper, not turning a hair, was drawing spurts of liquid
+from his boiler affair. His inscrutable face which was really a work
+of art, a perfect study in itself, beggaring description, conveyed
+the impression that he didn't understand one jot of what was going on.
+Funny, very!
+
+There ensued a somewhat lengthy pause. One man was reading in fits and
+starts a stained by coffee evening journal, another the card with the
+natives _choza de_, another the seaman's discharge. Mr Bloom, so far
+as he was personally concerned, was just pondering in pensive mood. He
+vividly recollected when the occurrence alluded to took place as well
+as yesterday, roughly some score of years previously in the days of the
+land troubles, when it took the civilised world by storm, figuratively
+speaking, early in the eighties, eightyone to be correct, when he was
+just turned fifteen.
+
+--Ay, boss, the sailor broke in. Give us back them papers.
+
+The request being complied with he clawed them up with a scrape.
+
+--Have you seen the rock of Gibraltar? Mr Bloom inquired.
+
+The sailor grimaced, chewing, in a way that might be read as yes, ay or
+no.
+
+--Ah, you've touched there too, Mr Bloom said, Europa point, thinking he
+had, in the hope that the rover might possibly by some reminiscences but
+he failed to do so, simply letting spirt a jet of spew into the sawdust,
+and shook his head with a sort of lazy scorn.
+
+--What year would that be about? Mr B interrogated. Can you recall the
+boats?
+
+Our _soi-disant_ sailor munched heavily awhile hungrily before
+answering:
+
+--I'm tired of all them rocks in the sea, he said, and boats and ships.
+Salt junk all the time.
+
+Tired seemingly, he ceased. His questioner perceiving that he was not
+likely to get a great deal of change out of such a wily old customer,
+fell to woolgathering on the enormous dimensions of the water about the
+globe, suffice it to say that, as a casual glance at the map revealed,
+it covered fully three fourths of it and he fully realised accordingly
+what it meant to rule the waves. On more than one occasion, a dozen
+at the lowest, near the North Bull at Dollymount he had remarked a
+superannuated old salt, evidently derelict, seated habitually near the
+not particularly redolent sea on the wall, staring quite obliviously at
+it and it at him, dreaming of fresh woods and pastures new as someone
+somewhere sings. And it left him wondering why. Possibly he had tried to
+find out the secret for himself, floundering up and down the antipodes
+and all that sort of thing and over and under, well, not exactly under,
+tempting the fates. And the odds were twenty to nil there was really no
+secret about it at all. Nevertheless, without going into the _minutiae_
+of the business, the eloquent fact remained that the sea was there in
+all its glory and in the natural course of things somebody or other had
+to sail on it and fly in the face of providence though it merely went
+to show how people usually contrived to load that sort of onus on to the
+other fellow like the hell idea and the lottery and insurance which were
+run on identically the same lines so that for that very reason if no
+other lifeboat Sunday was a highly laudable institution to which the
+public at large, no matter where living inland or seaside, as the case
+might be, having it brought home to them like that should extend its
+gratitude also to the harbourmasters and coastguard service who had
+to man the rigging and push off and out amid the elements whatever the
+season when duty called _Ireland expects that every man_ and so on and
+sometimes had a terrible time of it in the wintertime not forgetting the
+Irish lights, Kish and others, liable to capsize at any moment, rounding
+which he once with his daughter had experienced some remarkably choppy,
+not to say stormy, weather.
+
+--There was a fellow sailed with me in the Rover, the old seadog,
+himself a rover, proceeded, went ashore and took up a soft job as
+gentleman's valet at six quid a month. Them are his trousers I've on
+me and he gave me an oilskin and that jackknife. I'm game for that job,
+shaving and brushup. I hate roaming about. There's my son now, Danny,
+run off to sea and his mother got him took in a draper's in Cork where
+he could be drawing easy money.
+
+--What age is he? queried one hearer who, by the way, seen from the
+side, bore a distant resemblance to Henry Campbell, the townclerk, away
+from the carking cares of office, unwashed of course and in a seedy
+getup and a strong suspicion of nosepaint about the nasal appendage.
+
+--Why, the sailor answered with a slow puzzled utterance, my son, Danny?
+He'd be about eighteen now, way I figure it.
+
+The Skibbereen father hereupon tore open his grey or unclean anyhow
+shirt with his two hands and scratched away at his chest on which was to
+be seen an image tattooed in blue Chinese ink intended to represent an
+anchor.
+
+--There was lice in that bunk in Bridgwater, he remarked, sure as nuts.
+I must get a wash tomorrow or next day. It's them black lads I objects
+to. I hate those buggers. Suck your blood dry, they does.
+
+Seeing they were all looking at his chest he accommodatingly dragged
+his shirt more open so that on top of the timehonoured symbol of the
+mariner's hope and rest they had a full view of the figure 16 and a
+young man's sideface looking frowningly rather.
+
+--Tattoo, the exhibitor explained. That was done when we were Iying
+becalmed off Odessa in the Black Sea under Captain Dalton. Fellow, the
+name of Antonio, done that. There he is himself, a Greek.
+
+--Did it hurt much doing it? one asked the sailor.
+
+That worthy, however, was busily engaged in collecting round the.
+Someway in his. Squeezing or.
+
+--See here, he said, showing Antonio. There he is cursing the mate. And
+there he is now, he added, the same fellow, pulling the skin with his
+fingers, some special knack evidently, and he laughing at a yarn.
+
+And in point of fact the young man named Antonio's livid face did
+actually look like forced smiling and the curious effect excited the
+unreserved admiration of everybody including Skin-the-Goat, who this
+time stretched over.
+
+--Ay, ay, sighed the sailor, looking down on his manly chest. He's gone
+too. Ate by sharks after. Ay, ay.
+
+He let go of the skin so that the profile resumed the normal expression
+of before.
+
+--Neat bit of work, one longshoreman said.
+
+--And what's the number for? loafer number two queried.
+
+--Eaten alive? a third asked the sailor.
+
+--Ay, ay, sighed again the latter personage, more cheerily this
+time with some sort of a half smile for a brief duration only in the
+direction of the questioner about the number. Ate. A Greek he was.
+
+And then he added with rather gallowsbird humour considering his alleged
+end:
+
+_--As bad as old Antonio, For he left me on my ownio._
+
+The face of a streetwalker glazed and haggard under a black straw hat
+peered askew round the door of the shelter palpably reconnoitring on
+her own with the object of bringing more grist to her mill. Mr
+Bloom, scarcely knowing which way to look, turned away on the moment
+flusterfied but outwardly calm, and, picking up from the table the pink
+sheet of the Abbey street organ which the jarvey, if such he was, had
+laid aside, he picked it up and looked at the pink of the paper though
+why pink. His reason for so doing was he recognised on the moment
+round the door the same face he had caught a fleeting glimpse of that
+afternoon on Ormond quay, the partially idiotic female, namely, of the
+lane who knew the lady in the brown costume does be with you (Mrs B.)
+and begged the chance of his washing. Also why washing which seemed
+rather vague than not, your washing. Still candour compelled him to
+admit he had washed his wife's undergarments when soiled in Holles
+street and women would and did too a man's similar garments initialled
+with Bewley and Draper's marking ink (hers were, that is) if they really
+loved him, that is to say, love me, love my dirty shirt. Still just
+then, being on tenterhooks, he desired the female's room more than her
+company so it came as a genuine relief when the keeper made her a rude
+sign to take herself off. Round the side of the Evening Telegraph he
+just caught a fleeting glimpse of her face round the side of the door
+with a kind of demented glassy grin showing that she was not exactly all
+there, viewing with evident amusement the group of gazers round skipper
+Murphy's nautical chest and then there was no more of her.
+
+--The gunboat, the keeper said.
+
+--It beats me, Mr Bloom confided to Stephen, medically I am speaking,
+how a wretched creature like that from the Lock hospital reeking with
+disease can be barefaced enough to solicit or how any man in his sober
+senses, if he values his health in the least. Unfortunate creature! Of
+course I suppose some man is ultimately responsible for her condition.
+Still no matter what the cause is from...
+
+Stephen had not noticed her and shrugged his shoulders, merely
+remarking:
+
+--In this country people sell much more than she ever had and do a
+roaring trade. Fear not them that sell the body but have not power to
+buy the soul. She is a bad merchant. She buys dear and sells cheap.
+
+The elder man, though not by any manner of means an old maid or a prude,
+said it was nothing short of a crying scandal that ought to be put a
+stop to _instanter_ to say that women of that stamp (quite apart from
+any oldmaidish squeamishness on the subject), a necessary evil, w ere
+not licensed and medically inspected by the proper authorities, a thing,
+he could truthfully state, he, as a _paterfamilias_, was a stalwart
+advocate of from the very first start. Whoever embarked on a policy of
+the sort, he said, and ventilated the matter thoroughly would confer a
+lasting boon on everybody concerned.
+
+--You as a good catholic, he observed, talking of body and soul, believe
+in the soul. Or do you mean the intelligence, the brainpower as such,
+as distinct from any outside object, the table, let us say, that cup. I
+believe in that myself because it has been explained by competent men as
+the convolutions of the grey matter. Otherwise we would never have such
+inventions as X rays, for instance. Do you?
+
+Thus cornered, Stephen had to make a superhuman effort of memory to try
+and concentrate and remember before he could say:
+
+--They tell me on the best authority it is a simple substance and
+therefore incorruptible. It would be immortal, I understand, but for the
+possibility of its annihilation by its First Cause Who, from all I
+can hear, is quite capable of adding that to the number of His other
+practical jokes, _corruptio per se_ and _corruptio per accidens_ both
+being excluded by court etiquette.
+
+Mr Bloom thoroughly acquiesced in the general gist of this though the
+mystical finesse involved was a bit out of his sublunary depth still
+he felt bound to enter a demurrer on the head of simple, promptly
+rejoining:
+
+--Simple? I shouldn't think that is the proper word. Of course, I grant
+you, to concede a point, you do knock across a simple soul once in a
+blue moon. But what I am anxious to arrive at is it is one thing for
+instance to invent those rays Rontgen did or the telescope like Edison,
+though I believe it was before his time Galileo was the man, I mean,
+and the same applies to the laws, for example, of a farreaching natural
+phenomenon such as electricity but it's a horse of quite another colour
+to say you believe in the existence of a supernatural God.
+
+--O that, Stephen expostulated, has been proved conclusively by several
+of the bestknown passages in Holy Writ, apart from circumstantial
+evidence.
+
+On this knotty point however the views of the pair, poles apart as they
+were both in schooling and everything else with the marked difference in
+their respective ages, clashed.
+
+--Has been? the more experienced of the two objected, sticking to his
+original point with a smile of unbelief. I'm not so sure about that.
+That's a matter for everyman's opinion and, without dragging in the
+sectarian side of the business, I beg to differ with you _in toto_
+there. My belief is, to tell you the candid truth, that those bits were
+genuine forgeries all of them put in by monks most probably or it's the
+big question of our national poet over again, who precisely wrote them
+like _Hamlet_ and Bacon, as, you who know your Shakespeare infinitely
+better than I, of course I needn't tell you. Can't you drink that
+coffee, by the way? Let me stir it. And take a piece of that bun. It's
+like one of our skipper's bricks disguised. Still no-one can give what
+he hasn't got. Try a bit.
+
+--Couldn't, Stephen contrived to get out, his mental organs for the
+moment refusing to dictate further.
+
+Faultfinding being a proverbially bad hat Mr Bloom thought well to stir
+or try to the clotted sugar from the bottom and reflected with something
+approaching acrimony on the Coffee Palace and its temperance (and
+lucrative) work. To be sure it was a legitimate object and beyond yea or
+nay did a world of good, shelters such as the present one they were in
+run on teetotal lines for vagrants at night, concerts, dramatic evenings
+and useful lectures (admittance free) by qualified men for the lower
+orders. On the other hand he had a distinct and painful recollection
+they paid his wife, Madam Marion Tweedy who had been prominently
+associated with it at one time, a very modest remuneration indeed for
+her pianoplaying. The idea, he was strongly inclined to believe, was
+to do good and net a profit, there being no competition to speak
+of. Sulphate of copper poison SO4 or something in some dried peas he
+remembered reading of in a cheap eatinghouse somewhere but he couldn't
+remember when it was or where. Anyhow inspection, medical inspection,
+of all eatables seemed to him more than ever necessary which possibly
+accounted for the vogue of Dr Tibble's Vi-Cocoa on account of the
+medical analysis involved.
+
+--Have a shot at it now, he ventured to say of the coffee after being
+stirred.
+
+Thus prevailed on to at any rate taste it Stephen lifted the heavy mug
+from the brown puddle it clopped out of when taken up by the handle and
+took a sip of the offending beverage.
+
+--Still it's solid food, his good genius urged, I'm a stickler for solid
+food, his one and only reason being not gormandising in the least but
+regular meals as the _sine qua non_ for any kind of proper work, mental
+or manual. You ought to eat more solid food. You would feel a different
+man.
+
+--Liquids I can eat, Stephen said. But O, oblige me by taking away that
+knife. I can't look at the point of it. It reminds me of Roman history.
+
+Mr Bloom promptly did as suggested and removed the incriminated article,
+a blunt hornhandled ordinary knife with nothing particularly Roman or
+antique about it to the lay eye, observing that the point was the least
+conspicuous point about it.
+
+--Our mutual friend's stories are like himself, Mr Bloom _apropos_ of
+knives remarked to his _confidante sotto voce_. Do you think they are
+genuine? He could spin those yarns for hours on end all night long and
+lie like old boots. Look at him.
+
+Yet still though his eyes were thick with sleep and sea air life was
+full of a host of things and coincidences of a terrible nature and it
+was quite within the bounds of possibility that it was not an
+entire fabrication though at first blush there was not much inherent
+probability in all the spoof he got off his chest being strictly
+accurate gospel.
+
+He had been meantime taking stock of the individual in front of him and
+Sherlockholmesing him up ever since he clapped eyes on him. Though a
+wellpreserved man of no little stamina, if a trifle prone to baldness,
+there was something spurious in the cut of his jib that suggested a jail
+delivery and it required no violent stretch of imagination to associate
+such a weirdlooking specimen with the oakum and treadmill fraternity. He
+might even have done for his man supposing it was his own case he told,
+as people often did about others, namely, that he killed him himself
+and had served his four or five goodlooking years in durance vile to say
+nothing of the Antonio personage (no relation to the dramatic personage
+of identical name who sprang from the pen of our national poet) who
+expiated his crimes in the melodramatic manner above described. On the
+other hand he might be only bluffing, a pardonable weakness because
+meeting unmistakable mugs, Dublin residents, like those jarvies waiting
+news from abroad would tempt any ancient mariner who sailed the ocean
+seas to draw the long bow about the schooner _Hesperus_ and etcetera.
+And when all was said and done the lies a fellow told about himself
+couldn't probably hold a proverbial candle to the wholesale whoppers
+other fellows coined about him.
+
+--Mind you, I'm not saying that it's all a pure invention, he resumed.
+Analogous scenes are occasionally, if not often, met with. Giants,
+though that is rather a far cry, you see once in a way, Marcella the
+midget queen. In those waxworks in Henry street I myself saw some
+Aztecs, as they are called, sitting bowlegged, they couldn't straighten
+their legs if you paid them because the muscles here, you see, he
+proceeded, indicating on his companion the brief outline of the sinews
+or whatever you like to call them behind the right knee, were utterly
+powerless from sitting that way so long cramped up, being adored as
+gods. There's an example again of simple souls.
+
+However reverting to friend Sinbad and his horrifying adventures (who
+reminded him a bit of Ludwig, _alias_ Ledwidge, when he occupied
+the boards of the Gaiety when Michael Gunn was identified with the
+management in the _Flying Dutchman_, a stupendous success, and his host
+of admirers came in large numbers, everyone simply flocking to hear him
+though ships of any sort, phantom or the reverse, on the stage usually
+fell a bit flat as also did trains) there was nothing intrinsically
+incompatible about it, he conceded. On the contrary that stab in the
+back touch was quite in keeping with those italianos though candidly he
+was none the less free to admit those icecreamers and friers in the fish
+way not to mention the chip potato variety and so forth over in little
+Italy there near the Coombe were sober thrifty hardworking fellows
+except perhaps a bit too given to pothunting the harmless necessary
+animal of the feline persuasion of others at night so as to have a good
+old succulent tuckin with garlic _de rigueur_ off him or her next day on
+the quiet and, he added, on the cheap.
+
+--Spaniards, for instance, he continued, passionate temperaments like
+that, impetuous as Old Nick, are given to taking the law into their own
+hands and give you your quietus doublequick with those poignards they
+carry in the abdomen. It comes from the great heat, climate generally.
+My wife is, so to speak, Spanish, half that is. Point of fact she could
+actually claim Spanish nationality if she wanted, having been born in
+(technically) Spain, i.e. Gibraltar. She has the Spanish type. Quite
+dark, regular brunette, black. I for one certainly believe climate
+accounts for character. That's why I asked you if you wrote your poetry
+in Italian.
+
+--The temperaments at the door, Stephen interposed with, were very
+passionate about ten shillings. _Roberto ruba roba sua_.
+
+--Quite so, Mr Bloom dittoed.
+
+--Then, Stephen said staring and rambling on to himself or some unknown
+listener somewhere, we have the impetuosity of Dante and the isosceles
+triangle miss Portinari he fell in love with and Leonardo and san
+Tommaso Mastino.
+
+--It's in the blood, Mr Bloom acceded at once. All are washed in the
+blood of the sun. Coincidence I just happened to be in the Kildare
+street museum 890 today, shortly prior to our meeting if I can so call
+it, and I was just looking at those antique statues there. The splendid
+proportions of hips, bosom. You simply don't knock against those kind of
+women here. An exception here and there. Handsome yes, pretty in a way
+you find but what I'm talking about is the female form. Besides they
+have so little taste in dress, most of them, which greatly enhances a
+woman's natural beauty, no matter what you say. Rumpled stockings, it
+may be, possibly is, a foible of mine but still it's a thing I simply
+hate to see.
+
+Interest, however, was starting to flag somewhat all round and then the
+others got on to talking about accidents at sea, ships lost in a fog,
+goo collisions with icebergs, all that sort of thing. Shipahoy of course
+had his own say to say. He had doubled the cape a few odd times and
+weathered a monsoon, a kind of wind, in the China seas and through all
+those perils of the deep there was one thing, he declared, stood to him
+or words to that effect, a pious medal he had that saved him.
+
+So then after that they drifted on to the wreck off Daunt's rock, wreck
+of that illfated Norwegian barque nobody could think of her name for
+the moment till the jarvey who had really quite a look of Henry Campbell
+remembered it _Palme_ on Booterstown strand. That was the talk of the
+town that year (Albert William Quill wrote a fine piece of original
+verse of 910 distinctive merit on the topic for the Irish _Times_),
+breakers running over her and crowds and crowds on the shore in
+commotion petrified with horror. Then someone said something about the
+case of the s. s. _Lady Cairns_ of Swansea run into by the _Mona_ which
+was on an opposite tack in rather muggyish weather and lost with all
+hands on deck. No aid was given. Her master, the _Mona's_, said he
+was afraid his collision bulkhead would give way. She had no water, it
+appears, in her hold.
+
+At this stage an incident happened. It having become necessary for him
+to unfurl a reef the sailor vacated his seat.
+
+--Let me cross your bows mate, he said to his neighbour who was just
+gently dropping off into a peaceful doze.
+
+He made tracks heavily, slowly with a dumpy sort of a gait to the door,
+stepped heavily down the one step there was out of the shelter and bore
+due left. While he was in the act of getting his bearings Mr Bloom who
+noticed when he stood up that he had two flasks of presumably ship's
+rum sticking one out of each pocket for the private consumption of his
+burning interior, saw him produce a bottle and uncork it or unscrew and,
+applying its nozz1e to his lips, take a good old delectable swig out of
+it with a gurgling noise. The irrepressible Bloom, who also had a
+shrewd suspicion that the old stager went out on a manoeuvre after the
+counterattraction in the shape of a female who however had disappeared
+to all intents and purposes, could by straining just perceive him, when
+duly refreshed by his rum puncheon exploit, gaping up at the piers and
+girders of the Loop line rather out of his depth as of course it was all
+radically altered since his last visit and greatly improved. Some person
+or persons invisible directed him to the male urinal erected by the
+cleansing committee all over the place for the purpose but after a brief
+space of time during which silence reigned supreme the sailor, evidently
+giving it a wide berth, eased himself closer at hand, the noise of his
+bilgewater some little time subsequently splashing on the ground where
+it apparently awoke a horse of the cabrank. A hoof scooped anyway for
+new foothold after sleep and harness jingled. Slightly disturbed in his
+sentrybox by the brazier of live coke the watcher of the corporation
+stones who, though now broken down and fast breaking up, was none other
+in stern reality than the Gumley aforesaid, now practically on the
+parish rates, given the temporary job by Pat Tobin in all human
+probability from dictates of humanity knowing him before shifted about
+and shuffled in his box before composing his limbs again in to the arms
+of Morpheus, a truly amazing piece of hard lines in its most virulent
+form on a fellow most respectably connected and familiarised with decent
+home comforts all his life who came in for a cool 100 pounds a year
+at one time which of course the doublebarrelled ass proceeded to make
+general ducks and drakes of. And there he was at the end of his tether
+after having often painted the town tolerably pink without a beggarly
+stiver. He drank needless to be told and it pointed only once more a
+moral when he might quite easily be in a large way of business if--a
+big if, however--he had contrived to cure himself of his particular
+partiality.
+
+All meantime were loudly lamenting the falling off in Irish shipping,
+coastwise and foreign as well, which was all part and parcel of the same
+thing. A Palgrave Murphy boat was put off the ways at Alexandra basin,
+the only launch that year. Right enough the harbours were there only no
+ships ever called.
+
+There were wrecks and wreckers, the keeper said, who was evidently _au
+fait_.
+
+What he wanted to ascertain was why that ship ran bang against the only
+rock in Galway bay when the Galway harbour scheme was mooted by a Mr
+Worthington or some name like that, eh? Ask the then captain, he advised
+them, how much palmoil the British government gave him for that day's
+work, Captain John Lever of the Lever Line.
+
+--Am I right, skipper? he queried of the sailor, now returning after his
+private potation and the rest of his exertions.
+
+That worthy picking up the scent of the fagend of the song or words
+growled in wouldbe music but with great vim some kind of chanty or other
+in seconds or thirds. Mr Bloom's sharp ears heard him then expectorate
+the plug probably (which it was), so that he must have lodged it for the
+time being in his fist while he did the drinking and making water jobs
+and found it a bit sour after the liquid fire in question. Anyhow in
+he rolled after his successful libation-_cum_-potation, introducing an
+atmosphere of drink into the _soirée_, boisterously trolling, like a
+veritable son of a seacook:
+
+ _--The biscuits was as hard as brass
+ And the beef as salt as Lot's wife's arse.
+ O, Johnny Lever!
+ Johnny Lever, O!_
+
+After which effusion the redoubtable specimen duly arrived on the scene
+and regaining his seat he sank rather than sat heavily on the form
+provided. Skin-the-Goat, assuming he was he, evidently with an axe to
+grind, was airing his grievances in a forcible-feeble philippic anent
+the natural resources of Ireland or something of that sort which he
+described in his lengthy dissertation as the richest country bar none on
+the face of God's earth, far and away superior to England, with coal in
+large quantities, six million pounds worth of pork exported every year,
+ten millions between butter and eggs and all the riches drained out of
+it by England levying taxes on the poor people that paid through the
+nose always and gobbling up the best meat in the market and a lot more
+surplus steam in the same vein. Their conversation accordingly became
+general and all agreed that that was a fact. You could grow any mortal
+thing in Irish soil, he stated, and there was that colonel Everard down
+there in Navan growing tobacco. Where would you find anywhere the like
+of Irish bacon? But a day of reckoning, he stated _crescendo_ with no
+uncertain voice, thoroughly monopolising all the conversation, was in
+store for mighty England, despite her power of pelf on account of her
+crimes. There would be a fall and the greatest fall in history.
+The Germans and the Japs were going to have their little lookin, he
+affirmed. The Boers were the beginning of the end. Brummagem England was
+toppling already and her downfall would be Ireland, her Achilles heel,
+which he explained to them about the vulnerable point of Achilles, the
+Greek hero, a point his auditors at once seized as he completely gripped
+their attention by showing the tendon referred to on his boot. His
+advice to every Irishman was: stay in the land of your birth and work
+for Ireland and live for Ireland. Ireland, Parnell said, could not spare
+a single one of her sons.
+
+Silence all round marked the termination of his _finale_. The impervious
+navigator heard these lurid tidings, undismayed.
+
+--Take a bit of doing, boss, retaliated that rough diamond palpably a
+bit peeved in response to the foregoing truism.
+
+To which cold douche referring to downfall and so on the keeper
+concurred but nevertheless held to his main view.
+
+--Who's the best troops in the army? the grizzled old veteran irately
+interrogated. And the best jumpers and racers? And the best admirals and
+generals we've got? Tell me that.
+
+--The Irish, for choice, retorted the cabby like Campbell, facial
+blemishes apart.
+
+--That's right, the old tarpaulin corroborated. The Irish catholic
+peasant. He's the backbone of our empire. You know Jem Mullins?
+
+While allowing him his individual opinions as everyman the keeper added
+he cared nothing for any empire, ours or his, and considered no Irishman
+worthy of his salt that served it. Then they began to have a few
+irascible words when it waxed hotter, both, needless to say, appealing
+to the listeners who followed the passage of arms with interest so long
+as they didn't indulge in recriminations and come to blows.
+
+From inside information extending over a series of years Mr Bloom was
+rather inclined to poohpooh the suggestion as egregious balderdash for,
+pending that consummation devoutly to be or not to be wished for, he was
+fully cognisant of the fact that their neighbours across the channel,
+unless they were much bigger fools than he took them for, rather
+concealed their strength than the opposite. It was quite on a par with
+the quixotic idea in certain quarters that in a hundred million years
+the coal seam of the sister island would be played out and if, as
+time went on, that turned out to be how the cat jumped all he could
+personally say on the matter was that as a host of contingencies,
+equally relevant to the issue, might occur ere then it was highly
+advisable in the interim to try to make the most of both countries even
+though poles apart. Another little interesting point, the amours of
+whores and chummies, to put it in common parlance, reminded him Irish
+soldiers had as often fought for England as against her, more so, in
+fact. And now, why? So the scene between the pair of them, the licensee
+of the place rumoured to be or have been Fitzharris, the famous
+invincible, and the other, obviously bogus, reminded him forcibly as
+being on all fours with the confidence trick, supposing, that is, it was
+prearranged as the lookeron, a student of the human soul if anything,
+the others seeing least of the game. And as for the lessee or keeper,
+who probably wasn't the other person at all, he (B.) couldn't help
+feeling and most properly it was better to give people like that the
+goby unless you were a blithering idiot altogether and refuse to have
+anything to do with them as a golden rule in private life and their
+felonsetting, there always being the offchance of a Dannyman coming
+forward and turning queen's evidence or king's now like Denis or Peter
+Carey, an idea he utterly repudiated. Quite apart from that he disliked
+those careers of wrongdoing and crime on principle. Yet, though such
+criminal propensities had never been an inmate of his bosom in any
+shape or form, he certainly did feel and no denying it (while inwardly
+remaining what he was) a certain kind of admiration for a man who
+had actually brandished a knife, cold steel, with the courage of his
+political convictions (though, personally, he would never be a party to
+any such thing), off the same bat as those love vendettas of the south,
+have her or swing for her, when the husband frequently, after some words
+passed between the two concerning her relations with the other lucky
+mortal (he having had the pair watched), inflicted fatal injuries on
+his adored one as a result of an alternative postnuptial _liaison_
+by plunging his knife into her, until it just struck him that
+Fitz, nicknamed Skin-the-Goat, merely drove the car for the actual
+perpetrators of the outrage and so was not, if he was reliably informed,
+actually party to the ambush which, in point of fact, was the plea some
+legal luminary saved his skin on. In any case that was very ancient
+history by now and as for our friend, the pseudo Skin-the-etcetera, he
+had transparently outlived his welcome. He ought to have either died
+naturally or on the scaffold high. Like actresses, always farewell
+positively last performance then come up smiling again. Generous to a
+fault of course, temperamental, no economising or any idea of the sort,
+always snapping at the bone for the shadow. So similarly he had a very
+shrewd suspicion that Mr Johnny Lever got rid of some l s d. in the
+course of his perambulations round the docks in the congenial atmosphere
+of the _Old Ireland_ tavern, come back to Erin and so on. Then as for
+the other he had heard not so long before the same identical lingo as he
+told Stephen how he simply but effectually silenced the offender.
+
+--He took umbrage at something or other, that muchinjured but on the
+whole eventempered person declared, I let slip. He called me a jew and
+in a heated fashion offensively. So I without deviating from plain facts
+in the least told him his God, I mean Christ, was a jew too and all his
+family like me though in reality I'm not. That was one for him. A soft
+answer turns away wrath. He hadn't a word to say for himself as everyone
+saw. Am I not right?
+
+He turned a long you are wrong gaze on Stephen of timorous dark pride
+at the soft impeachment with a glance also of entreaty for he seemed to
+glean in a kind of a way that it wasn't all exactly.
+
+--_Ex quibus_, Stephen mumbled in a noncommittal accent, their two or
+four eyes conversing, _Christus_ or Bloom his name is or after all any
+other, _secundum carnem_.
+
+--Of course, Mr B. proceeded to stipulate, you must look at both sides
+of the question. It is hard to lay down any hard and fast rules as to
+right and wrong but room for improvement all round there certainly is
+though every country, they say, our own distressful included, has the
+government it deserves. But with a little goodwill all round. It's all
+very fine to boast of mutual superiority but what about mutual equality.
+I resent violence and intolerance in any shape or form. It never
+reaches anything or stops anything. A revolution must come on the due
+instalments plan. It's a patent absurdity on the face of it to hate
+people because they live round the corner and speak another vernacular,
+in the next house so to speak.
+
+--Memorable bloody bridge battle and seven minutes' war, Stephen
+assented, between Skinner's alley and Ormond market.
+
+Yes, Mr Bloom thoroughly agreed, entirely endorsing the remark, that
+was overwhelmingly right. And the whole world was full of that sort of
+thing.
+
+--You just took the words out of my mouth, he said. A hocuspocus of
+conflicting evidence that candidly you couldn't remotely...
+
+All those wretched quarrels, in his humble opinion, stirring up
+bad blood, from some bump of combativeness or gland of some kind,
+erroneously supposed to be about a punctilio of honour and a flag, were
+very largely a question of the money question which was at the back of
+everything greed and jealousy, people never knowing when to stop.
+
+--They accuse, remarked he audibly.
+
+He turned away from the others who probably and spoke nearer to, so as
+the others in case they.
+
+--Jews, he softly imparted in an aside in Stephen's ear, are accused of
+ruining. Not a vestige of truth in it, I can safely say. History, would
+you be surprised to learn, proves up to the hilt Spain decayed when the
+inquisition hounded the jews out and England prospered when Cromwell,
+an uncommonly able ruffian who in other respects has much to answer for,
+imported them. Why? Because they are imbued with the proper spirit. They
+are practical and are proved to be so. I don't want to indulge in any
+because you know the standard works on the subject and then orthodox as
+you are. But in the economic, not touching religion, domain the priest
+spells poverty. Spain again, you saw in the war, compared with goahead
+America. Turks. It's in the dogma. Because if they didn't believe they'd
+go straight to heaven when they die they'd try to live better, at least
+so I think. That's the juggle on which the p.p's raise the wind on false
+pretences. I'm, he resumed with dramatic force, as good an Irishman
+as that rude person I told you about at the outset and I want to see
+everyone, concluded he, all creeds and classes _pro rata_ having a
+comfortable tidysized income, in no niggard fashion either, something
+in the neighbourhood of 300 pounds per annum. That's the vital issue
+at stake and it's feasible and would be provocative of friendlier
+intercourse between man and man. At least that's my idea for what it's
+worth. I call that patriotism. _Ubi patria_, as we learned a smattering
+of in our classical days in _Alma Mater, vita bene_. Where you can live
+well, the sense is, if you work.
+
+Over his untastable apology for a cup of coffee, listening to this
+synopsis of things in general, Stephen stared at nothing in particular.
+He could hear, of course, all kinds of words changing colour like those
+crabs about Ringsend in the morning burrowing quickly into all colours
+of different sorts of the same sand where they had a home somewhere
+beneath or seemed to. Then he looked up and saw the eyes that said or
+didn't say the words the voice he heard said, if you work.
+
+--Count me out, he managed to remark, meaning work.
+
+The eyes were surprised at this observation because as he, the person
+who owned them pro tem. observed or rather his voice speaking did, all
+must work, have to, together.
+
+--I mean, of course, the other hastened to affirm, work in the widest
+possible sense. Also literary labour not merely for the kudos of
+the thing. Writing for the newspapers which is the readiest channel
+nowadays. That's work too. Important work. After all, from the little
+I know of you, after all the money expended on your education you are
+entitled to recoup yourself and command your price. You have every bit
+as much right to live by your pen in pursuit of your philosophy as the
+peasant has. What? You both belong to Ireland, the brain and the brawn.
+Each is equally important.
+
+--You suspect, Stephen retorted with a sort of a half laugh, that I may
+be important because I belong to the _faubourg Saint Patrice_ called
+Ireland for short.
+
+--I would go a step farther, Mr Bloom insinuated.
+
+--But I suspect, Stephen interrupted, that Ireland must be important
+because it belongs to me.
+
+--What belongs, queried Mr Bloom bending, fancying he was perhaps under
+some misapprehension. Excuse me. Unfortunately, I didn't catch the
+latter portion. What was it you...?
+
+Stephen, patently crosstempered, repeated and shoved aside his mug of
+coffee or whatever you like to call it none too politely, adding: 1170
+
+--We can't change the country. Let us change the subject.
+
+At this pertinent suggestion Mr Bloom, to change the subject, looked
+down but in a quandary, as he couldn't tell exactly what construction
+to put on belongs to which sounded rather a far cry. The rebuke of some
+kind was clearer than the other part. Needless to say the fumes of
+his recent orgy spoke then with some asperity in a curious bitter way
+foreign to his sober state. Probably the homelife to which Mr B attached
+the utmost importance had not been all that was needful or he hadn't
+been familiarised with the right sort of people. With a touch of fear
+for the young man beside him whom he furtively scrutinised with an air
+of some consternation remembering he had just come back from Paris,
+the eyes more especially reminding him forcibly of father and sister,
+failing to throw much light on the subject, however, he brought to mind
+instances of cultured fellows that promised so brilliantly nipped in the
+bud of premature decay and nobody to blame but themselves. For instance
+there was the case of O'Callaghan, for one, the halfcrazy faddist,
+respectably connected though of inadequate means, with his mad vagaries
+among whose other gay doings when rotto and making himself a nuisance
+to everybody all round he was in the habit of ostentatiously sporting in
+public a suit of brown paper (a fact). And then the usual _denouement_
+after the fun had gone on fast and furious he got 1190 landed into hot
+water and had to be spirited away by a few friends, after a strong hint
+to a blind horse from John Mallon of Lower Castle Yard, so as not to
+be made amenable under section two of the criminal law amendment act,
+certain names of those subpoenaed being handed in but not divulged
+for reasons which will occur to anyone with a pick of brains. Briefly,
+putting two and two together, six sixteen which he pointedly turned a
+deaf ear to, Antonio and so forth, jockeys and esthetes and the tattoo
+which was all the go in the seventies or thereabouts even in the house
+of lords because early in life the occupant of the throne, then heir
+apparent, the other members of the upper ten and other high personages
+simply following in the footsteps of the head of the state, he reflected
+about the errors of notorieties and crowned heads running counter to
+morality such as the Cornwall case a number of years before under their
+veneer in a way scarcely intended by nature, a thing good Mrs Grundy,
+as the law stands, was terribly down on though not for the reason they
+thought they were probably whatever it was except women chiefly who were
+always fiddling more or less at one another it being largely a matter of
+dress and all the rest of it. Ladies who like distinctive underclothing
+should, and every welltailored man must, trying to make the gap wider
+between them by innuendo and give more of a genuine filip to acts of
+impropriety between the two, she unbuttoned his and then he untied her,
+mind the pin, whereas savages in the cannibal islands, say, at ninety
+degrees in the shade not caring a continental. However, reverting to the
+original, there were on the other hand others who had forced their way
+to the top from the lowest rung by the aid of their bootstraps. Sheer
+force of natural genius, that. With brains, sir.
+
+For which and further reasons he felt it was his interest and duty even
+to wait on and profit by the unlookedfor occasion though why he could
+not exactly tell being as it was already several shillings to the
+bad having in fact let himself in for it. Still to cultivate the
+acquaintance of someone of no uncommon calibre who could provide food
+for reflection would amply repay any small. Intellectual stimulation,
+as such, was, he felt, from time to time a firstrate tonic for the mind.
+Added to which was the coincidence of meeting, discussion, dance, row,
+old salt of the here today and gone tomorrow type, night loafers, the
+whole galaxy of events, all went to make up a miniature cameo of the
+world we live in especially as the lives of the submerged tenth, viz.
+coalminers, divers, scavengers etc., were very much under the microscope
+lately. To improve the shining hour he wondered whether he might meet
+with anything approaching the same luck as Mr Philip Beaufoy if taken
+down in writing suppose he were to pen something out of the common
+groove (as he fully intended doing) at the rate of one guinea per
+column. _My Experiences_, let us say, _in a Cabman's Shelter_.
+
+The pink edition extra sporting of the _Telegraph_ tell a graphic lie
+lay, as luck would have it, beside his elbow and as he was just puzzling
+again, far from satisfied, over a country belonging to him and the
+preceding rebus the vessel came from Bridgwater and the postcard was
+addressed A. Boudin find the captain's age, his eyes went aimlessly
+over the respective captions which came under his special province the
+allembracing give us this day our daily press. First he got a bit of a
+start but it turned out to be only something about somebody named H.
+du Boyes, agent for typewriters or something like that. Great battle,
+Tokio. Lovemaking in Irish, 200 pounds damages. Gordon Bennett.
+Emigration Swindle. Letter from His Grace. William. Ascot meeting,
+the Gold Cup. Victory of outsider _Throwaway_ recalls Derby of '92 when
+Capt. Marshall's dark horse _Sir Hugo_ captured the blue ribband at long
+odds. New York disaster. Thousand lives lost. Foot and Mouth. Funeral of
+the late Mr Patrick Dignam.
+
+So to change the subject he read about Dignam R. I. P. which, he
+reflected, was anything but a gay sendoff. Or a change of address
+anyway.
+
+--_This morning_ (Hynes put it in of course) _the remains of the late Mr
+Patrick Dignam were removed from his residence, no 9 Newbridge Avenue,
+Sandymount, for interment in Glasnevin. The deceased gentleman was a
+most popular and genial personality in city life and his demise after a
+brief illness came as a great shock to citizens of all classes by whom
+he is deeply regretted. The obsequies, at which many friends of the
+deceased were present, were carried out_ (certainly Hynes wrote it with
+a nudge from Corny) _by Messrs H. J. O'Neill and Son, 164 North Strand
+Road. The mourners included: Patk. Dignam (son), Bernard Corrigan
+(brother-in-law), Jno. Henry Menton, solr, Martin Cunningham, John
+Power, eatondph 1/8 ador dorador douradora_ (must be where he called
+Monks the dayfather about Keyes's ad) _Thomas Kernan, Simon Dedalus,
+Stephen Dedalus B.,4., Edw. J. Lambert, Cornelius T. Kelleher, Joseph
+M'C Hynes, L. Boom, CP M'Coy,--M'lntosh and several others_.
+
+Nettled not a little by L. _Boom_ (as it incorrectly stated) and the
+line of bitched type but tickled to death simultaneously by C. P. M'Coy
+and Stephen Dedalus B. A. who were conspicuous, needless to say, by
+their total absence (to say nothing of M'Intosh) L. Boom pointed it
+out to his companion B. A. engaged in stifling another yawn, half
+nervousness, not forgetting the usual crop of nonsensical howlers of
+misprints.
+
+--Is that first epistle to the Hebrews, he asked as soon as his bottom
+jaw would let him, in? Text: open thy mouth and put thy foot in it.
+
+--It is. Really, Mr Bloom said (though first he fancied he alluded to
+the archbishop till he added about foot and mouth with which there could
+be no possible connection) overjoyed to set his mind at rest and a bit
+flabbergasted at Myles Crawford's after all managing to. There.
+
+While the other was reading it on page two Boom (to give him for the
+nonce his new misnomer) whiled away a few odd leisure moments in fits
+and starts with the account of the third event at Ascot on page three,
+his side. Value 1000 sovs with 3000 sovs in specie added. For entire
+colts and fillies. Mr F. Alexander's _Throwaway_, b. h. by _Rightaway_,
+5 yrs, 9 st 4 lbs (W. Lane) 1, lord Howard de Walden's _Zinfandel_ (M.
+Cannon) z, Mr W. Bass's _Sceptre_ 3. Betting 5 to 4 on _Zinfandel_,
+20 to 1 _Throwaway_ (off). _Sceptre_ a shade heavier, 5 to 4 on
+_Zinfandel_, 20 to 1 _Throwaway_ (off). _Throwaway_ and _Zinfandel_
+stood close order. It was anybody's race then the rank outsider drew to
+the fore, got long lead, beating lord Howard de Walden's chestnut
+colt and Mr W. Bass's bay filly Sceptre on a 2 1/2 mile course. Winner
+trained by Braime so that Lenehan's version of the business was all pure
+buncombe. Secured the verdict cleverly by a length. 1000 sovs with
+3000 in specie. Also ran: J de Bremond's (French horse Bantam Lyons was
+anxiously inquiring after not in yet but expected any minute) _Maximum
+II_. Different ways of bringing off a coup. Lovemaking damages. Though
+that halfbaked Lyons ran off at a tangent in his impetuosity to get
+left. Of course gambling eminently lent itself to that sort of thing
+though as the event turned out the poor fool hadn't much reason to
+congratulate himself on his pick, the forlorn hope. Guesswork it reduced
+itself to eventually.
+
+--There was every indication they would arrive at that, he, Bloom, said.
+
+--Who? the other, whose hand by the way was hurt, said.
+
+One morning you would open the paper, the cabman affirmed, and read:
+_Return of Parnell_. He bet them what they liked. A Dublin fusilier was
+in that shelter one night and said he saw him in South Africa. Pride it
+was killed him. He ought to have done away with himself or lain low for
+a time after committee room no 15 until he was his old self again with
+no-one to point a finger at him. Then they would all to a man have gone
+down on their marrowbones to him to come back when he had recovered
+his senses. Dead he wasn't. Simply absconded somewhere. The coffin they
+brought over was full of stones. He changed his name to De Wet, the Boer
+general. He made a mistake to fight the priests. And so forth and so on.
+
+All the same Bloom (properly so dubbed) was rather surprised at their
+memories for in nine cases out of ten it was a case of tarbarrels and
+not singly but in their thousands and then complete oblivion because it
+was twenty odd years. Highly unlikely of course there was even a shadow
+of truth in the stones and, even supposing, he thought a return highly
+inadvisable, all things considered. Something evidently riled them in
+his death. Either he petered out too tamely of acute pneumonia just when
+his various different political arrangements were nearing completion
+or whether it transpired he owed his death to his having neglected to
+change his boots and clothes-after a wetting when a cold resulted and
+failing to consult a specialist he being confined to his room till he
+eventually died of it amid widespread regret before a fortnight was at
+an end or quite possibly they were distressed to find the job was taken
+out of their hands. Of course nobody being acquainted with his movements
+even before there was absolutely no clue as to his whereabouts which
+were decidedly of the _Alice, where art thou_ order even prior to his
+starting to go under several aliases such as Fox and Stewart so the
+remark which emanated from friend cabby might be within the bounds of
+possibility. Naturally then it would prey on his mind as a born leader
+of men which undoubtedly he was and a commanding figure, a sixfooter
+or at any rate five feet ten or eleven in his stockinged feet, whereas
+Messrs So and So who, though they weren't even a patch on the former
+man, ruled the roost after their redeeming features were very few and
+far between. It certainly pointed a moral, the idol with feet of clay,
+and then seventytwo of his trusty henchmen rounding on him with mutual
+mudslinging. And the identical same with murderers. You had to come
+back. That haunting sense kind of drew you. To show the understudy in
+the title _rôle_ how to. He saw him once on the auspicious occasion
+when they broke up the type in the _Insuppressible_ or was it _United
+Ireland_, a privilege he keenly appreciated, and, in point of fact,
+handed him his silk hat when it was knocked off and he said _Thank you_,
+excited as he undoubtedly was under his frigid exterior notwithstanding
+the little misadventure mentioned between the cup and the lip: what's
+bred in the bone. Still as regards return. You were a lucky dog if
+they didn't set the terrier at you directly you got back. Then a lot of
+shillyshally usually followed, Tom for and Dick and Harry against. And
+then, number one, you came up against the man in possession and had to
+produce your credentials like the claimant in the Tichborne case,
+Roger Charles Tichborne, _Bella_ was the boat's name to the best of his
+recollection he, the heir, went down in as the evidence went to show
+and there was a tattoo mark too in Indian ink, lord Bellew was it, as he
+might very easily have picked up the details from some pal on board ship
+and then, when got up to tally with the description given, introduce
+himself with: _Excuse me, my name is So and So_ or some such commonplace
+remark. A more prudent course, as Bloom said to the not over effusive,
+in fact like the distinguished personage under discussion beside him,
+would have been to sound the lie of the land first.
+
+--That bitch, that English whore, did for him, the shebeen proprietor
+commented. She put the first nail in his coffin.
+
+--Fine lump of a woman all the same, the _soi-disant_ townclerk Henry
+Campbell remarked, and plenty of her. She loosened many a man's thighs.
+I seen her picture in a barber's. The husband was a captain or an
+officer.
+
+--Ay, Skin-the-Goat amusingly added, he was and a cottonball one.
+
+This gratuitous contribution of a humorous character occasioned a fair
+amount of laughter among his _entourage_. As regards Bloom he, without
+the faintest suspicion of a smile, merely gazed in the direction of
+the door and reflected upon the historic story which had aroused
+extraordinary interest at the time when the facts, to make matters
+worse, were made public with the usual affectionate letters that passed
+between them full of sweet nothings. First it was strictly Platonic till
+nature intervened and an attachment sprang up between them till bit by
+bit matters came to a climax and the matter became the talk of the town
+till the staggering blow came as a welcome intelligence to not a few
+evildisposed, however, who were resolved upon encompassing his downfall
+though the thing was public property all along though not to anything
+like the sensational extent that it subsequently blossomed into. Since
+their names were coupled, though, since he was her declared favourite,
+where was the particular necessity to proclaim it to the rank and file
+from the housetops, the fact, namely, that he had shared her bedroom
+which came out in the witnessbox on oath when a thrill went through the
+packed court literally electrifying everybody in the shape of witnesses
+swearing to having witnessed him on such and such a particular date in
+the act of scrambling out of an upstairs apartment with the assistance
+of a ladder in night apparel, having gained admittance in the same
+fashion, a fact the weeklies, addicted to the lubric a little, simply
+coined shoals of money out of. Whereas the simple fact of the case was
+it was simply a case of the husband not being up to the scratch, with
+nothing in common between them beyond the name, and then a real man
+arriving on the scene, strong to the verge of weakness, falling a victim
+to her siren charms and forgetting home ties, the usual sequel, to bask
+in the loved one's smiles. The eternal question of the life connubial,
+needless to say, cropped up. Can real love, supposing there happens to
+be another chap in the case, exist between married folk? Poser.
+Though it was no concern of theirs absolutely if he regarded her with
+affection, carried away by a wave of folly. A magnificent specimen of
+manhood he was truly augmented obviously by gifts of a high order, as
+compared with the other military supernumerary that is (who was just the
+usual everyday _farewell, my gallant captain_ kind of an individual in
+the light dragoons, the 18th hussars to be accurate) and inflammable
+doubtless (the fallen leader, that is, not the other) in his own
+peculiar way which she of course, woman, quickly perceived as highly
+likely to carve his way to fame which he almost bid fair to do till the
+priests and ministers of the gospel as a whole, his erstwhile staunch
+adherents, and his beloved evicted tenants for whom he had done yeoman
+service in the rural parts of the country by taking up the cudgels on
+their behalf in a way that exceeded their most sanguine expectations,
+very effectually cooked his matrimonial goose, thereby heaping coals of
+fire on his head much in the same way as the fabled ass's kick. Looking
+back now in a retrospective kind of arrangement all seemed a kind of
+dream. And then coming back was the worst thing you ever did because it
+went without saying you would feel out of place as things always moved
+with the times. Why, as he reflected, Irishtown strand, a locality he
+had not been in for quite a number of years looked different somehow
+since, as it happened, he went to reside on the north side. North or
+south, however, it was just the wellknown case of hot passion, pure and
+simple, upsetting the applecart with a vengeance and just bore out the
+very thing he was saying as she also was Spanish or half so, types that
+wouldn't do things by halves, passionate abandon of the south, casting
+every shred of decency to the winds.
+
+--Just bears out what I was saying, he, with glowing bosom said to
+Stephen, about blood and the sun. And, if I don't greatly mistake she
+was Spanish too.
+
+--The king of Spain's daughter, Stephen answered, adding something or
+other rather muddled about farewell and adieu to you Spanish onions and
+the first land called the Deadman and from Ramhead to Scilly was so and
+so many.
+
+--Was she? Bloom ejaculated, surprised though not astonished by any
+means, I never heard that rumour before. Possible, especially there, it
+was as she lived there. So, Spain.
+
+Carefully avoiding a book in his pocket _Sweets of_, which reminded him
+by the by of that Cap l street library book out of date, he took out his
+pocketbook and, turning over the various contents it contained rapidly
+finally he.
+
+--Do you consider, by the by, he said, thoughtfully selecting a faded
+photo which he laid on the table, that a Spanish type?
+
+Stephen, obviously addressed, looked down on the photo showing a large
+sized lady with her fleshy charms on evidence in an open fashion as she
+was in the full bloom of womanhood in evening dress cut ostentatiously
+low for the occasion to give a liberal display of bosom, with more than
+vision of breasts, her full lips parted and some perfect teeth, standing
+near, ostensibly with gravity, a piano on the rest of which was _In Old
+Madrid_, a ballad, pretty in its way, which was then all the vogue. Her
+(the lady's) eyes, dark, large, looked at Stephen, about to smile about
+something to be admired, Lafayette of Westmoreland street, Dublin's
+premier photographic artist, being responsible for the esthetic
+execution.
+
+--Mrs Bloom, my wife the _prima donna_ Madam Marion Tweedy, Bloom
+indicated. Taken a few years since. In or about ninety six. Very like
+her then.
+
+Beside the young man he looked also at the photo of the lady now his
+1440 legal wife who, he intimated, was the accomplished daughter of
+Major Brian Tweedy and displayed at an early age remarkable proficiency
+as a singer having even made her bow to the public when her years
+numbered barely sweet sixteen. As for the face it was a speaking
+likeness in expression but it did not do justice to her figure which
+came in for a lot of notice usually and which did not come out to the
+best advantage in that getup. She could without difficulty, he said,
+have posed for the ensemble, not to dwell on certain opulent curves of
+the. He dwelt, being a bit of an artist in his spare time, on the female
+form in general developmentally because, as it so happened, no later
+than that afternoon he had seen those Grecian statues, 1450 perfectly
+developed as works of art, in the National Museum. Marble could give
+the original, shoulders, back, all the symmetry, all the rest. Yes,
+puritanisme, it does though Saint Joseph's sovereign thievery alors
+(Bandez!) Figne toi trop. Whereas no photo could because it simply
+wasn't art in a word.
+
+The spirit moving him he would much have liked to follow Jack Tar's good
+example and leave the likeness there for a very few minutes to speak for
+itself on the plea he so that the other could drink in the beauty for
+himself, her stage presence being, frankly, a treat in itself which the
+camera could not at all do justice to. But it was scarcely professional
+etiquette so. Though it was a warm pleasant sort of a night now yet
+wonderfully cool for the season considering, for sunshine after storm.
+And he did feel a kind of need there and then to follow suit like a
+kind of inward voice and satisfy a possible need by moving a motion.
+Nevertheless he sat tight just viewing the slightly soiled photo creased
+by opulent curves, none the worse for wear however, and looked away
+thoughtfully with the intention of not further increasing the
+other's possible embarrassment while gauging her symmetry of heaving
+_embonpoint_. In fact the slight soiling was only an added charm like
+the case of linen slightly soiled, good as new, much better in fact
+with the starch out. Suppose she was gone when he? I looked for the lamp
+which she told me came into his mind but merely as a passing fancy of
+his because he then recollected the morning littered bed etcetera and
+the book about Ruby with met him pike hoses (_sic_) in it which must
+have fell down sufficiently appropriately beside the domestic chamberpot
+with apologies to Lindley Murray.
+
+The vicinity of the young man he certainly relished, educated,
+_distingué_ and impulsive into the bargain, far and away the pick of the
+bunch though you wouldn't think he had it in him yet you would. Besides
+he said the picture was handsome which, say what you like, it was though
+at the moment she was distinctly stouter. And why not? An awful lot of
+makebelieve went on about that sort of thing involving a lifelong slur
+with the usual splash page of gutterpress about the same old matrimonial
+tangle alleging misconduct with professional golfer or the newest
+stage favourite instead of being honest and aboveboard about the whole
+business. How they were fated to meet and an attachment sprang up
+between the two so that their names were coupled in the public eye
+was told in court with letters containing the habitual mushy and
+compromising expressions leaving no loophole to show that they openly
+cohabited two or three times a week at some wellknown seaside hotel and
+relations, when the thing ran its normal course, became in due course
+intimate. Then the decree _nisi_ and the King's proctor tries to show
+cause why and, he failing to quash it, _nisi_ was made absolute. But as
+for that the two misdemeanants, wrapped up as they largely were in one
+another, could safely afford to ignore it as they very largely did till
+the matter was put in the hands of a solicitor who filed a petition for
+the party wronged in due course. He, B, enjoyed the distinction of being
+close to Erin's uncrowned king in the flesh when the thing occurred on
+the historic _fracas_ when the fallen leader's, who notoriously stuck to
+his guns to the last drop even when clothed in the mantle of adultery,
+(leader's) trusty henchmen to the number of ten or a dozen or
+possibly even more than that penetrated into the printing works of the
+_Insuppressible_ or no it was _United Ireland_ (a by no means by the
+by appropriate appellative) and broke up the typecases with hammers or
+something like that all on account of some scurrilous effusions from
+the facile pens of the O'Brienite scribes at the usual mudslinging
+occupation reflecting on the erstwhile tribune's private morals. Though
+palpably a radically altered man he was still a commanding figure though
+carelessly garbed as usual with that look of settled purpose which went
+a long way with the shillyshallyers till they discovered to their vast
+discomfiture that their idol had feet of clay after placing him upon a
+pedestal which she, however, was the first to perceive. As those were
+particularly hot times in the general hullaballoo Bloom sustained a
+minor injury from a nasty prod of some chap's elbow in the crowd that
+of course congregated lodging some place about the pit of the stomach,
+fortunately not of a grave character. His hat (Parnell's) a silk one was
+inadvertently knocked off and, as a matter of strict history, Bloom was
+the man who picked it up in the crush after witnessing the occurrence
+meaning to return it to him (and return it to him he did with the utmost
+celerity) who panting and hatless and whose thoughts were miles away
+from his hat at the time all the same being a gentleman born with a
+stake in the country he, as a matter of fact, having gone into it more
+for the kudos of the thing than anything else, what's bred in the bone
+instilled into him in infancy at his mother's knee in the shape of
+knowing what good form was came out at once because he turned round to
+the donor and thanked him with perfect _aplomb_, saying: _Thank you,
+sir_, though in a very different tone of voice from the ornament of the
+legal profession whose headgear Bloom also set to rights earlier in the
+course of the day, history repeating itself with a difference, after
+the burial of a mutual friend when they had left him alone in his glory
+after the grim task of having committed his remains to the grave.
+
+On the other hand what incensed him more inwardly was the blatant jokes
+of the cabman and so on who passed it all off as a jest, laughing 1530
+immoderately, pretending to understand everything, the why and the
+wherefore, and in reality not knowing their own minds, it being a case
+for the two parties themselves unless it ensued that the legitimate
+husband happened to be a party to it owing to some anonymous letter from
+the usual boy Jones, who happened to come across them at the crucial
+moment in a loving position locked in one another's arms, drawing
+attention to their illicit proceedings and leading up to a domestic
+rumpus and the erring fair one begging forgiveness of her lord and
+master upon her knees and promising to sever the connection and not
+receive his visits any more if only the aggrieved husband would overlook
+the matter and let bygones be bygones with tears in her eyes though
+possibly with her tongue in her fair cheek at the same time as quite
+possibly there were several others. He personally, being of a sceptical
+bias, believed and didn't make the smallest bones about saying so either
+that man or men in the plural were always hanging around on the waiting
+list about a lady, even supposing she was the best wife in the world
+and they got on fairly well together for the sake of argument, when,
+neglecting her duties, she chose to be tired of wedded life and was on
+for a little flutter in polite debauchery to press their attentions on
+her with improper intent, the upshot being that her affections centred
+on another, the cause of many _liaisons_ between still attractive
+married women getting on for fair and forty and younger men, no doubt as
+several famous cases of feminine infatuation proved up to the hilt.
+
+It was a thousand pities a young fellow, blessed with an allowance of
+brains as his neighbour obviously was, should waste his valuable time
+with profligate women who might present him with a nice dose to last him
+his lifetime. In the nature of single blessedness he would one day take
+unto himself a wife when Miss Right came on the scene but in the interim
+ladies' society was a _conditio sine qua non_ though he had the gravest
+possible doubts, not that he wanted in the smallest to pump Stephen
+about Miss Ferguson (who was very possibly the particular lodestar who
+brought him down to Irishtown so early in the morning), as to whether he
+would find much satisfaction basking in the boy and girl courtship idea
+and the company of smirking misses without a penny to their names bi or
+triweekly with the orthodox preliminary canter of complimentplaying and
+walking out leading up to fond lovers' ways and flowers and chocs. To
+think of him house and homeless, rooked by some landlady worse than any
+stepmother, was really too bad at his age. The queer suddenly things
+he popped out with attracted the elder man who was several years the
+other's senior or like his father but something substantial he certainly
+ought to eat even were it only an eggflip made on unadulterated maternal
+nutriment or, failing that, the homely Humpty Dumpty boiled.
+
+--At what o'clock did you dine? he questioned of the slim form and tired
+though unwrinkled face.
+
+--Some time yesterday, Stephen said.
+
+--Yesterday! exclaimed Bloom till he remembered it was already tomorrow
+Friday. Ah, you mean it's after twelve!
+
+--The day before yesterday, Stephen said, improving on himself.
+
+Literally astounded at this piece of intelligence Bloom reflected.
+Though they didn't see eye to eye in everything a certain analogy there
+somehow was as if both their minds were travelling, so to speak, in the
+one train of thought. At his age when dabbling in politics roughly
+some score of years previously when he had been a _quasi_ aspirant to
+parliamentary honours in the Buckshot Foster days he too recollected in
+retrospect (which was a source of keen satisfaction in itself) he had
+a sneaking regard for those same ultra ideas. For instance when the
+evicted tenants question, then at its first inception, bulked largely in
+people's mind though, it goes without saying, not contributing a copper
+or pinning his faith absolutely to its dictums, some of which wouldn't
+exactly hold water, he at the outset in principle at all events was in
+thorough sympathy with peasant possession as voicing the trend of modern
+opinion (a partiality, however, which, realising his mistake, he was
+subsequently partially cured of) and even was twitted with going a
+step farther than Michael Davitt in the striking views he at one time
+inculcated as a backtothelander, which was one reason he strongly
+resented the innuendo put upon him in so barefaced a fashion by our
+friend at the gathering of the clans in Barney Kiernan's so that he,
+though often considerably misunderstood and the least pugnacious of
+mortals, be it repeated, departed from his customary habit to give
+him (metaphorically) one in the gizzard though, so far as politics
+themselves were concerned, he was only too conscious of the casualties
+invariably resulting from propaganda and displays of mutual animosity
+and the misery and suffering it entailed as a foregone conclusion on
+fine young fellows, chiefly, destruction of the fittest, in a word.
+
+Anyhow upon weighing up the pros and cons, getting on for one, as it
+was, it was high time to be retiring for the night. The crux was it
+was a bit risky to bring him home as eventualities might possibly ensue
+(somebody having a temper of her own sometimes) and spoil the hash
+altogether as on the night he misguidedly brought home a dog (breed
+unknown) with a lame paw (not that the cases were either identical or
+the reverse though he had hurt his hand too) to Ontario Terrace as he
+very distinctly remembered, having been there, so to speak. On the
+other hand it was altogether far and away too late for the Sandymount
+or Sandycove suggestion so that he was in some perplexity as to which of
+the two alternatives. Everything pointed to the fact that it behoved him
+to avail himself to the full of the opportunity, all things considered.
+His initial impression was he was a shade standoffish or not over
+effusive but it grew on him someway. For one thing he mightn't what you
+call jump at the idea, if approached, and what mostly worried him was
+he didn't know how to lead up to it or word it exactly, supposing he
+did entertain the proposal, as it would afford him very great personal
+pleasure if he would allow him to help to put coin in his way or some
+wardrobe, if found suitable. At all events he wound up by concluding,
+eschewing for the nonce hidebound precedent, a cup of Epps's cocoa and
+a shakedown for the night plus the use of a rug or two and overcoat
+doubled into a pillow at least he would be in safe hands and as warm as
+a toast on a trivet he failed to perceive any very vast amount of harm
+in that always with the proviso no rumpus of any sort was kicked up.
+A move had to be made because that merry old soul, the grasswidower
+in question who appeared to be glued to the spot, didn't appear in any
+particular hurry to wend his way home to his dearly beloved Queenstown
+and it was highly likely some sponger's bawdyhouse of retired beauties
+where age was no bar off Sheriff street lower would be the best clue
+to that equivocal character's whereabouts for a few days to come,
+alternately racking their feelings (the mermaids') with sixchamber
+revolver anecdotes verging on the tropical calculated to freeze
+the marrow of anybody's bones and mauling their largesized charms
+betweenwhiles with rough and tumble gusto to the accompaniment of large
+potations of potheen and the usual blarney about himself for as to who
+he in reality was let x equal my right name and address, as Mr Algebra
+remarks _passim_. At the same time he inwardly chuckled over his gentle
+repartee to the blood and ouns champion about his god being a jew.
+People could put up with being bitten by a wolf but what properly riled
+them was a bite from a sheep. The most vulnerable point too of tender
+Achilles. Your god was a jew. Because mostly they appeared to imagine he
+came from Carrick-on-Shannon or somewhereabouts in the county Sligo.
+
+--I propose, our hero eventually suggested after mature reflection while
+prudently pocketing her photo, as it's rather stuffy here you just come
+home with me and talk things over. My diggings are quite close in the
+vicinity. You can't drink that stuff. Do you like cocoa? Wait. I'll just
+pay this lot.
+
+The best plan clearly being to clear out, the remainder being plain
+sailing, he beckoned, while prudently pocketing the photo, to the keeper
+of the shanty who didn't seem to.
+
+--Yes, that's the best, he assured Stephen to whom for the matter of
+that Brazen Head or him or anywhere else was all more or less.
+
+All kinds of Utopian plans were flashing through his (B's) busy brain,
+education (the genuine article), literature, journalism, prize titbits,
+up to date billing, concert tours in English watering resorts packed
+with hydros and seaside theatres, turning money away, duets in Italian
+with the accent perfectly true to nature and a quantity of other
+things, no necessity, of course, to tell the world and his wife from the
+housetops about it, and a slice of luck. An opening was all was wanted.
+Because he more than suspected he had his father's voice to bank his
+hopes on which it was quite on the cards he had so it would be just as
+well, by the way no harm, to trail the conversation in the direction of
+that particular red herring just to.
+
+The cabby read out of the paper he had got hold of that the former
+viceroy, earl Cadogan, had presided at the cabdrivers' association
+dinner in London somewhere. Silence with a yawn or two accompanied this
+thrilling announcement. Then the old specimen in the corner who appeared
+to have some spark of vitality left read out that sir Anthony MacDonnell
+had left Euston for the chief secretary's lodge or words to that effect.
+To which absorbing piece of intelligence echo answered why.
+
+--Give us a squint at that literature, grandfather, the ancient mariner
+put in, manifesting some natural impatience.
+
+--And welcome, answered the elderly party thus addressed.
+
+The sailor lugged out from a case he had a pair of greenish goggles
+which he very slowly hooked over his nose and both ears.
+
+--Are you bad in the eyes? the sympathetic personage like the townclerk
+queried.
+
+--Why, answered the seafarer with the tartan beard, who seemingly was
+a bit of a literary cove in his own small way, staring out of seagreen
+portholes as you might well describe them as, I uses goggles reading.
+Sand in the Red Sea done that. One time I could read a book in the dark,
+manner of speaking. _The Arabian Nights Entertainment_ was my favourite
+and _Red as a Rose is She._
+
+Hereupon he pawed the journal open and pored upon Lord only knows what,
+found drowned or the exploits of King Willow, Iremonger having made a
+hundred and something second wicket not out for Notts, during which
+time (completely regardless of Ire) the keeper was intensely occupied
+loosening an apparently new or secondhand boot which manifestly pinched
+him as he muttered against whoever it was sold it, all of them who were
+sufficiently awake enough to be picked out by their facial expressions,
+that is to say, either simply looking on glumly or passing a trivial
+remark.
+
+To cut a long story short Bloom, grasping the situation, was the first
+to rise from his seat so as not to outstay their welcome having first
+and foremost, being as good as his word that he would foot the bill for
+the occasion, taken the wise precaution to unobtrusively motion to mine
+host as a parting shot a scarcely perceptible sign when the others were
+not looking to the effect that the amount due was forthcoming, making a
+grand total of fourpence (the amount he deposited unobtrusively in
+four coppers, literally the last of the Mohicans), he having previously
+spotted on the printed pricelist for all who ran to read opposite him
+in unmistakable figures, coffee 2d, confectionery do, and honestly well
+worth twice the money once in a way, as Wetherup used to remark.
+
+--Come, he counselled to close the _séance_.
+
+Seeing that the ruse worked and the coast was clear they left the
+shelter or shanty together and the _élite_ society of oilskin and
+company whom nothing short of an earthquake would move out of their
+_dolce far niente_. Stephen, who confessed to still feeling poorly and
+fagged out, paused at the, for a moment, the door.
+
+--One thing I never understood, he said to be original on the spur of
+the moment. Why they put tables upside down at night, I mean chairs
+upside down, on the tables in cafes. To which impromptu the neverfailing
+Bloom replied without a moment's hesitation, saying straight off:
+
+--To sweep the floor in the morning.
+
+So saying he skipped around, nimbly considering, frankly at the same
+time apologetic to get on his companion's right, a habit of his, by the
+bye, his right side being, in classical idiom, his tender Achilles. The
+night air was certainly now a treat to breathe though Stephen was a bit
+weak on his pins.
+
+--It will (the air) do you good, Bloom said, meaning also the walk, in
+a moment. The only thing is to walk then you'll feel a different man.
+Come. It's not far. Lean on me.
+
+Accordingly he passed his left arm in Stephen's right and led him on
+accordingly.
+
+--Yes, Stephen said uncertainly because he thought he felt a strange
+kind of flesh of a different man approach him, sinewless and wobbly and
+all that.
+
+Anyhow they passed the sentrybox with stones, brazier etc. where
+the municipal supernumerary, ex Gumley, was still to all intents and
+purposes wrapped in the arms of Murphy, as the adage has it, dreaming
+of fresh fields and pastures new. And _apropos_ of coffin of stones the
+analogy was not at all bad as it was in fact a stoning to death on the
+part of seventytwo out of eighty odd constituencies that ratted at the
+time of the split and chiefly the belauded peasant class, probably the
+selfsame evicted tenants he had put in their holdings.
+
+So they turned on to chatting about music, a form of art for which
+Bloom, as a pure amateur, possessed the greatest love, as they made
+tracks arm in arm across Beresford place. Wagnerian music, though
+confessedly grand in its way, was a bit too heavy for Bloom and hard to
+follow at the first go-off but the music of Mercadante's _Huguenots_,
+Meyerbeer's _Seven Last Words on the Cross_ and Mozart's _Twelfth Mass_
+he simply revelled in, the _Gloria_ in that being, to his mind, the acme
+of first class music as such, literally knocking everything else into
+a cocked hat. He infinitely preferred the sacred music of the catholic
+church to anything the opposite shop could offer in that line such as
+those Moody and Sankey hymns or _Bid me to live and i will live
+thy protestant to be_. He also yielded to none in his admiration of
+Rossini's _Stabat Mater_, a work simply abounding in immortal numbers,
+in which his wife, Madam Marion Tweedy, made a hit, a veritable
+sensation, he might safely say, greatly adding to her other laureis and
+putting the others totally in the shade, in the jesuit fathers' church
+in upper Gardiner street, the sacred edifice being thronged to the
+doors to hear her with virtuosos, or _virtuosi_ rather. There was the
+unanimous opinion that there was none to come up to her and suffice it
+to say in a place of worship for music of a sacred character there was
+a generally voiced desire for an encore. On the whole though favouring
+preferably light opera of the _Don Giovanni_ description and _Martha_,
+a gem in its line, he had a _penchant_, though with only a surface
+knowledge, for the severe classical school such as Mendelssohn. And
+talking of that, taking it for granted he knew all about the old
+favourites, he mentioned _par excellence_ Lionel's air in _Martha,
+M'appari_, which, curiously enough, he had heard or overheard, to be
+more accurate, on yesterday, a privilege he keenly appreciated, from the
+lips of Stephen's respected father, sung to perfection, a study of the
+number, in fact, which made all the others take a back seat. Stephen, in
+reply to a politely put query, said he didn't sing it but launched
+out into praises of Shakespeare's songs, at least of in or about that
+period, the lutenist Dowland who lived in Fetter lane near Gerard the
+herbalist, who _anno ludendo hausi, Doulandus_, an instrument he was
+contemplating purchasing from Mr Arnold Dolmetsch, whom B. did not quite
+recall though the name certainly sounded familiar, for sixtyfive guineas
+and Farnaby and son with their _dux_ and _comes_ conceits and Byrd
+(William) who played the virginals, he said, in the Queen's chapel or
+anywhere else he found them and one Tomkins who made toys or airs and
+John Bull.
+
+On the roadway which they were approaching whilst still speaking beyond
+the swingchains a horse, dragging a sweeper, paced on the paven ground,
+brushing a long swathe of mire up so that with the noise Bloom was not
+perfectly certain whether he had caught aright the allusion to sixtyfive
+guineas and John Bull. He inquired if it was John Bull the political
+celebrity of that ilk, as it struck him, the two identical names, as a
+striking coincidence.
+
+By the chains the horse slowly swerved to turn, which perceiving, Bloom,
+who was keeping a sharp lookout as usual, plucked the other's sleeve
+gently, jocosely remarking:
+
+--Our lives are in peril tonight. Beware of the steamroller.
+
+They thereupon stopped. Bloom looked at the head of a horse not worth
+anything like sixtyfive guineas, suddenly in evidence in the dark quite
+near so that it seemed new, a different grouping of bones and even flesh
+because palpably it was a fourwalker, a hipshaker, a blackbuttocker, a
+taildangler, a headhanger putting his hind foot foremost the while the
+lord of his creation sat on the perch, busy with his thoughts. But such
+a good poor brute he was sorry he hadn't a lump of sugar but, as he
+wisely reflected, you could scarcely be prepared for every emergency
+that might crop up. He was just a big nervous foolish noodly kind of a
+horse, without a second care in the world. But even a dog, he reflected,
+take that mongrel in Barney Kiernan's, of the same size, would be a holy
+horror to face. But it was no animal's fault in particular if he was
+built that way like the camel, ship of the desert, distilling grapes
+into potheen in his hump. Nine tenths of them all could be caged or
+trained, nothing beyond the art of man barring the bees. Whale with a
+harpoon hairpin, alligator tickle the small of his back and he sees the
+joke, chalk a circle for a rooster, tiger my eagle eye. These timely
+reflections anent the brutes of the field occupied his mind somewhat
+distracted from Stephen's words while the ship of the street was
+manoeuvring and Stephen went on about the highly interesting old.
+
+--What's this I was saying? Ah, yes! My wife, he intimated, plunging
+_in medias res_, would have the greatest of pleasure in making your
+acquaintance as she is passionately attached to music of any kind.
+
+He looked sideways in a friendly fashion at the sideface of Stephen,
+image of his mother, which was not quite the same as the usual handsome
+blackguard type they unquestionably had an insatiable hankering after as
+he was perhaps not that way built.
+
+Still, supposing he had his father's gift as he more than suspected,
+it opened up new vistas in his mind such as Lady Fingall's Irish
+industries, concert on the preceding Monday, and aristocracy in general.
+
+Exquisite variations he was now describing on an air _Youth here has
+End_ by Jans Pieter Sweelinck, a Dutchman of Amsterdam where the frows
+come from. Even more he liked an old German song of _Johannes Jeep_
+about the clear sea and the voices of sirens, sweet murderers of men,
+which boggled Bloom a bit:
+
+ _Von der Sirenen Listigkeit
+ Tun die Poeten dichten._
+
+These opening bars he sang and translated _extempore_. Bloom, nodding,
+said he perfectly understood and begged him to go on by all means which
+he did.
+
+A phenomenally beautiful tenor voice like that, the rarest of boons,
+which Bloom appreciated at the very first note he got out, could easily,
+if properly handled by some recognised authority on voice production
+such as Barraclough and being able to read music into the bargain,
+command its own price where baritones were ten a penny and procure for
+its fortunate possessor in the near future an _entrée_ into fashionable
+houses in the best residential quarters of financial magnates in a large
+way of business and titled people where with his university degree of
+B. A. (a huge ad in its way) and gentlemanly bearing to all the more
+influence the good impression he would infallibly score a distinct
+success, being blessed with brains which also could be utilised for the
+purpose and other requisites, if his clothes were properly attended
+to so as to the better worm his way into their good graces as he, a
+youthful tyro in--society's sartorial niceties, hardly understood how a
+little thing like that could militate against you. It was in fact only a
+matter of months and he could easily foresee him participating in their
+musical and artistic _conversaziones_ during the festivities of the
+Christmas season, for choice, causing a slight flutter in the dovecotes
+of the fair sex and being made a lot of by ladies out for sensation,
+cases of which, as he happened to know, were on record--in fact, without
+giving the show away, he himself once upon a time, if he cared to, could
+easily have. Added to which of course would be the pecuniary emolument
+by no means to be sneezed at, going hand in hand with his tuition
+fees. Not, he parenthesised, that for the sake of filthy lucre he need
+necessarily embrace the lyric platform as a walk in life for any lengthy
+space of time. But a step in the required direction it was beyond yea or
+nay and both monetarily and mentally it contained no reflection on his
+dignity in the smallest and it often turned in uncommonly handy to
+be handed a cheque at a muchneeded moment when every little helped.
+Besides, though taste latterly had deteriorated to a degree, original
+music like that, different from the conventional rut, would rapidly
+have a great vogue as it would be a decided novelty for Dublin's musical
+world after the usual hackneyed run of catchy tenor solos foisted on a
+confiding public by Ivan St Austell and Hilton St Just and their _genus
+omne_. Yes, beyond a shadow of a doubt he could with all the cards in
+his hand and he had a capital opening to make a name for himself and win
+a high place in the city's esteem where he could command a stiff figure
+and, booking ahead, give a grand concert for the patrons of the King
+street house, given a backerup, if one were forthcoming to kick him
+upstairs, so to speak, a big _if_, however, with some impetus of the
+goahead sort to obviate the inevitable procrastination which often
+tripped-up a too much fêted prince of good fellows. And it need not
+detract from the other by one iota as, being his own master, he would
+have heaps of time to practise literature in his spare moments when
+desirous of so doing without its clashing with his vocal career or
+containing anything derogatory whatsoever as it was a matter for himself
+alone. In fact, he had the ball at his feet and that was the very reason
+why the other, possessed of a remarkably sharp nose for smelling a rat
+of any sort, hung on to him at all.
+
+The horse was just then. And later on at a propitious opportunity he
+purposed (Bloom did), without anyway prying into his private affairs on
+the _fools step in where angels_ principle, advising him to sever his
+connection with a certain budding practitioner who, he noticed, was
+prone to disparage and even to a slight extent with some hilarious
+pretext when not present, deprecate him, or whatever you like to call it
+which in Bloom's humble opinion threw a nasty sidelight on that side of
+a person's character, no pun intended.
+
+The horse having reached the end of his tether, so to speak, halted and,
+rearing high a proud feathering tail, added his quota by letting fall on
+the floor which the brush would soon brush up and polish, three smoking
+globes of turds. Slowly three times, one after another, from a full
+crupper he mired. And humanely his driver waited till he (or she) had
+ended, patient in his scythed car.
+
+Side by side Bloom, profiting by the _contretemps_, with Stephen passed
+through the gap of the chains, divided by the upright, and, stepping
+over a strand of mire, went across towards Gardiner street lower,
+Stephen singing more boldly, but not loudly, the end of the ballad.
+
+_Und alle Schiffe brücken._
+
+The driver never said a word, good, bad or indifferent, but merely
+watched the two figures, as he sat on his lowbacked car, both black,
+one full, one lean, walk towards the railway bridge, _to be married by
+Father Maher_. As they walked they at times stopped and walked again
+continuing their _tête-à -tête_ (which, of course, he was utterly out
+of) about sirens enemies of man's reason, mingled with a number of other
+topics of the same category, usurpers, historical cases of the kind
+while the man in the sweeper car or you might as well call it in the
+sleeper car who in any case couldn't possibly hear because they were too
+far simply sat in his seat near the end of lower Gardiner street _and
+looked after their lowbacked car_.
+
+
+
+What parallel courses did Bloom and Stephen follow returning?
+
+Starting united both at normal walking pace from Beresford place they
+followed in the order named Lower and Middle Gardiner streets and
+Mountjoy square, west: then, at reduced pace, each bearing left,
+Gardiner's place by an inadvertence as far as the farther corner of
+Temple street: then, at reduced pace with interruptions of halt, bearing
+right, Temple street, north, as far as Hardwicke place. Approaching,
+disparate, at relaxed walking pace they crossed both the circus before
+George's church diametrically, the chord in any circle being less than
+the arc which it subtends.
+
+
+Of what did the duumvirate deliberate during their itinerary?
+
+Music, literature, Ireland, Dublin, Paris, friendship, woman,
+prostitution, diet, the influence of gaslight or the light of arc and
+glowlamps on the growth of adjoining paraheliotropic trees, exposed
+corporation emergency dustbuckets, the Roman catholic church,
+ecclesiastical celibacy, the Irish nation, jesuit education, careers,
+the study of medicine, the past day, the maleficent influence of the
+presabbath, Stephen's collapse.
+
+Did Bloom discover common factors of similarity between their respective
+like and unlike reactions to experience?
+
+Both were sensitive to artistic impressions, musical in preference to
+plastic or pictorial. Both preferred a continental to an insular manner
+of life, a cisatlantic to a transatlantic place of residence. Both
+indurated by early domestic training and an inherited tenacity of
+heterodox resistance professed their disbelief in many orthodox
+religious, national, social and ethical doctrines. Both admitted
+the alternately stimulating and obtunding influence of heterosexual
+magnetism.
+
+
+Were their views on some points divergent?
+
+Stephen dissented openly from Bloom's views on the importance of dietary
+and civic selfhelp while Bloom dissented tacitly from Stephen's views
+on the eternal affirmation of the spirit of man in literature. Bloom
+assented covertly to Stephen's rectification of the anachronism
+involved in assigning the date of the conversion of the Irish nation to
+christianity from druidism by Patrick son of Calpornus, son of Potitus,
+son of Odyssus, sent by pope Celestine I in the year 432 in the reign of
+Leary to the year 260 or thereabouts in the reign of Cormac MacArt (died
+266 A.D.), suffocated by imperfect deglutition of aliment at Sletty
+and interred at Rossnaree. The collapse which Bloom ascribed to
+gastric inanition and certain chemical compounds of varying degrees of
+adulteration and alcoholic strength, accelerated by mental exertion and
+the velocity of rapid circular motion in a relaxing atmosphere, Stephen
+attributed to the reapparition of a matutinal cloud (perceived by both
+from two different points of observation Sandycove and Dublin) at first
+no bigger than a woman's hand.
+
+
+Was there one point on which their views were equal and negative?
+
+The influence of gaslight or electric light on the growth of adjoining
+paraheliotropic trees.
+
+
+Had Bloom discussed similar subjects during nocturnal perambulations in
+the past?
+
+In 1884 with Owen Goldberg and Cecil Turnbull at night on public
+thoroughfares between Longwood avenue and Leonard's corner and Leonard's
+corner and Synge street and Synge street and Bloomfield avenue.
+
+In 1885 with Percy Apjohn in the evenings, reclined against the wall
+between Gibraltar villa and Bloomfield house in Crumlin, barony
+of Uppercross. In 1886 occasionally with casual acquaintances and
+prospective purchasers on doorsteps, in front parlours, in third class
+railway carriages of suburban lines. In 1888 frequently with major Brian
+Tweedy and his daughter Miss Marion Tweedy, together and separately on
+the lounge in Matthew Dillon's house in Roundtown. Once in 1892 and once
+in 1893 with Julius (Juda) Mastiansky, on both occasions in the parlour
+of his (Bloom's) house in Lombard street, west.
+
+
+What reflection concerning the irregular sequence of dates 1884, 1885,
+1886, 1888, 1892, 1893, 1904 did Bloom make before their arrival at
+their destination?
+
+He reflected that the progressive extension of the field of individual
+development and experience was regressively accompanied by a restriction
+of the converse domain of interindividual relations.
+
+
+As in what ways?
+
+From inexistence to existence he came to many and was as one received:
+existence with existence he was with any as any with any: from existence
+to nonexistence gone he would be by all as none perceived.
+
+What act did Bloom make on their arrival at their destination?
+
+At the housesteps of the 4th Of the equidifferent uneven numbers, number
+7 Eccles street, he inserted his hand mechanically into the back pocket
+of his trousers to obtain his latchkey.
+
+
+Was it there?
+
+It was in the corresponding pocket of the trousers which he had worn on
+the day but one preceding.
+
+
+Why was he doubly irritated?
+
+Because he had forgotten and because he remembered that he had reminded
+himself twice not to forget.
+
+
+What were then the alternatives before the, premeditatedly
+(respectively) and inadvertently, keyless couple?
+
+To enter or not to enter. To knock or not to knock.
+
+
+Bloom's decision?
+
+A stratagem. Resting his feet on the dwarf wall, he climbed over the
+area railings, compressed his hat on his head, grasped two points at
+the lower union of rails and stiles, lowered his body gradually by its
+length of five feet nine inches and a half to within two feet ten inches
+of the area pavement and allowed his body to move freely in space by
+separating himself from the railings and crouching in preparation for
+the impact of the fall.
+
+
+Did he fall?
+
+By his body's known weight of eleven stone and four pounds in
+avoirdupois measure, as certified by the graduated machine for
+periodical selfweighing in the premises of Francis Froedman,
+pharmaceutical chemist of 19 Frederick street, north, on the last feast
+of the Ascension, to wit, the twelfth day of May of the bissextile year
+one thousand nine hundred and four of the christian era (jewish era five
+thousand six hundred and sixtyfour, mohammadan era one thousand three
+hundred and twentytwo), golden number 5, epact 13, solar cycle 9,
+dominical letters C B, Roman indiction 2, Julian period 6617, MCMIV.
+
+
+Did he rise uninjured by concussion?
+
+Regaining new stable equilibrium he rose uninjured though concussed by
+the impact, raised the latch of the area door by the exertion of force
+at its freely moving flange and by leverage of the first kind applied
+at its fulcrum, gained retarded access to the kitchen through the
+subadjacent scullery, ignited a lucifer match by friction, set free
+inflammable coal gas by turningon the ventcock, lit a high flame which,
+by regulating, he reduced to quiescent candescence and lit finally a
+portable candle.
+
+
+What discrete succession of images did Stephen meanwhile perceive?
+
+Reclined against the area railings he perceived through the transparent
+kitchen panes a man regulating a gasflame of 14 CP, a man lighting a
+candle of 1 CP, a man removing in turn each of his two boots, a man
+leaving the kitchen holding a candle.
+
+
+Did the man reappear elsewhere?
+
+After a lapse of four minutes the glimmer of his candle was discernible
+through the semitransparent semicircular glass fanlight over the
+halldoor. The halldoor turned gradually on its hinges. In the open space
+of the doorway the man reappeared without his hat, with his candle.
+
+
+Did Stephen obey his sign?
+
+Yes, entering softly, he helped to close and chain the door and followed
+softly along the hallway the man's back and listed feet and lighted
+candle past a lighted crevice of doorway on the left and carefully down
+a turning staircase of more than five steps into the kitchen of Bloom's
+house.
+
+
+What did Bloom do?
+
+He extinguished the candle by a sharp expiration of breath upon its
+flame, drew two spoonseat deal chairs to the hearthstone, one for
+Stephen with its back to the area window, the other for himself when
+necessary, knelt on one knee, composed in the grate a pyre of crosslaid
+resintipped sticks and various coloured papers and irregular polygons
+of best Abram coal at twentyone shillings a ton from the yard of Messrs
+Flower and M'Donald of 14 D'Olier street, kindled it at three projecting
+points of paper with one ignited lucifer match, thereby releasing
+the potential energy contained in the fuel by allowing its carbon and
+hydrogen elements to enter into free union with the oxygen of the air.
+
+
+Of what similar apparitions did Stephen think?
+
+Of others elsewhere in other times who, kneeling on one knee or on two,
+had kindled fires for him, of Brother Michael in the infirmary of the
+college of the Society of Jesus at Clongowes Wood, Sallins, in the
+county of Kildare: of his father, Simon Dedalus, in an unfurnished room
+of his first residence in Dublin, number thirteen Fitzgibbon street:
+of his godmother Miss Kate Morkan in the house of her dying sister Miss
+Julia Morkan at 15 Usher's Island: of his aunt Sara, wife of Richie
+(Richard) Goulding, in the kitchen of their lodgings at 62 Clanbrassil
+street: of his mother Mary, wife of Simon Dedalus, in the kitchen of
+number twelve North Richmond street on the morning of the feast of
+Saint Francis Xavier 1898: of the dean of studies, Father Butt, in the
+physics' theatre of university College, 16 Stephen's Green, north: of
+his sister Dilly (Delia) in his father's house in Cabra.
+
+
+What did Stephen see on raising his gaze to the height of a yard from
+the fire towards the opposite wall?
+
+Under a row of five coiled spring housebells a curvilinear rope,
+stretched between two holdfasts athwart across the recess beside the
+chimney pier, from which hung four smallsized square handkerchiefs
+folded unattached consecutively in adjacent rectangles and one pair of
+ladies' grey hose with Lisle suspender tops and feet in their habitual
+position clamped by three erect wooden pegs two at their outer
+extremities and the third at their point of junction.
+
+
+What did Bloom see on the range?
+
+On the right (smaller) hob a blue enamelled saucepan: on the left
+(larger) hob a black iron kettle.
+
+
+What did Bloom do at the range?
+
+He removed the saucepan to the left hob, rose and carried the iron
+kettle to the sink in order to tap the current by turning the faucet to
+let it flow.
+
+
+Did it flow?
+
+Yes. From Roundwood reservoir in county Wicklow of a cubic capacity of
+2400 million gallons, percolating through a subterranean aqueduct of
+filter mains of single and double pipeage constructed at an initial
+plant cost of 5 pounds per linear yard by way of the Dargle, Rathdown,
+Glen of the Downs and Callowhill to the 26 acre reservoir at Stillorgan,
+a distance of 22 statute miles, and thence, through a system of
+relieving tanks, by a gradient of 250 feet to the city boundary at
+Eustace bridge, upper Leeson street, though from prolonged summer drouth
+and daily supply of 12 1/2 million gallons the water had fallen below
+the sill of the overflow weir for which reason the borough surveyor and
+waterworks engineer, Mr Spencer Harty, C. E., on the instructions of
+the waterworks committee had prohibited the use of municipal water for
+purposes other than those of consumption (envisaging the possibility of
+recourse being had to the impotable water of the Grand and Royal canals
+as in 1893) particularly as the South Dublin Guardians, notwithstanding
+their ration of 15 gallons per day per pauper supplied through a 6 inch
+meter, had been convicted of a wastage of 20,000 gallons per night by
+a reading of their meter on the affirmation of the law agent of
+the corporation, Mr Ignatius Rice, solicitor, thereby acting to the
+detriment of another section of the public, selfsupporting taxpayers,
+solvent, sound.
+
+What in water did Bloom, waterlover, drawer of water, watercarrier,
+returning to the range, admire?
+
+Its universality: its democratic equality and constancy to its nature
+in seeking its own level: its vastness in the ocean of Mercator's
+projection: its unplumbed profundity in the Sundam trench of the Pacific
+exceeding 8000 fathoms: the restlessness of its waves and surface
+particles visiting in turn all points of its seaboard: the independence
+of its units: the variability of states of sea: its hydrostatic
+quiescence in calm: its hydrokinetic turgidity in neap and spring tides:
+its subsidence after devastation: its sterility in the circumpolar
+icecaps, arctic and antarctic: its climatic and commercial significance:
+its preponderance of 3 to 1 over the dry land of the globe: its
+indisputable hegemony extending in square leagues over all the region
+below the subequatorial tropic of Capricorn: the multisecular stability
+of its primeval basin: its luteofulvous bed: its capacity to dissolve
+and hold in solution all soluble substances including millions of
+tons of the most precious metals: its slow erosions of peninsulas and
+islands, its persistent formation of homothetic islands, peninsulas
+and downwardtending promontories: its alluvial deposits: its weight and
+volume and density: its imperturbability in lagoons and highland tarns:
+its gradation of colours in the torrid and temperate and frigid zones:
+its vehicular ramifications in continental lakecontained streams and
+confluent oceanflowing rivers with their tributaries and transoceanic
+currents, gulfstream, north and south equatorial courses: its violence
+in seaquakes, waterspouts, Artesian wells, eruptions, torrents, eddies,
+freshets, spates, groundswells, watersheds, waterpartings, geysers,
+cataracts, whirlpools, maelstroms, inundations, deluges, cloudbursts:
+its vast circumterrestrial ahorizontal curve: its secrecy in springs and
+latent humidity, revealed by rhabdomantic or hygrometric instruments
+and exemplified by the well by the hole in the wall at Ashtown
+gate, saturation of air, distillation of dew: the simplicity of its
+composition, two constituent parts of hydrogen with one constituent part
+of oxygen: its healing virtues: its buoyancy in the waters of the Dead
+Sea: its persevering penetrativeness in runnels, gullies, inadequate
+dams, leaks on shipboard: its properties for cleansing, quenching thirst
+and fire, nourishing vegetation: its infallibility as paradigm and
+paragon: its metamorphoses as vapour, mist, cloud, rain, sleet, snow,
+hail: its strength in rigid hydrants: its variety of forms in loughs
+and bays and gulfs and bights and guts and lagoons and atolls and
+archipelagos and sounds and fjords and minches and tidal estuaries and
+arms of sea: its solidity in glaciers, icebergs, icefloes: its docility
+in working hydraulic millwheels, turbines, dynamos, electric power
+stations, bleachworks, tanneries, scutchmills: its utility in canals,
+rivers, if navigable, floating and graving docks: its potentiality
+derivable from harnessed tides or watercourses falling from level
+to level: its submarine fauna and flora (anacoustic, photophobe),
+numerically, if not literally, the inhabitants of the globe: its
+ubiquity as constituting 90 percent of the human body: the noxiousness
+of its effluvia in lacustrine marshes, pestilential fens, faded
+flowerwater, stagnant pools in the waning moon.
+
+
+Having set the halffilled kettle on the now burning coals, why did he
+return to the stillflowing tap?
+
+To wash his soiled hands with a partially consumed tablet of
+Barrington's lemonflavoured soap, to which paper still adhered, (bought
+thirteen hours previously for fourpence and still unpaid for), in fresh
+cold neverchanging everchanging water and dry them, face and hands, in a
+long redbordered holland cloth passed over a wooden revolving roller.
+
+
+What reason did Stephen give for declining Bloom's offer?
+
+That he was hydrophobe, hating partial contact by immersion or total by
+submersion in cold water, (his last bath having taken place in the month
+of October of the preceding year), disliking the aqueous substances of
+glass and crystal, distrusting aquacities of thought and language.
+
+
+What impeded Bloom from giving Stephen counsels of hygiene and
+prophylactic to which should be added suggestions concerning a
+preliminary wetting of the head and contraction of the muscles with
+rapid splashing of the face and neck and thoracic and epigastric region
+in case of sea or river bathing, the parts of the human anatomy most
+sensitive to cold being the nape, stomach and thenar or sole of foot?
+
+The incompatibility of aquacity with the erratic originality of genius.
+
+
+What additional didactic counsels did he similarly repress?
+
+Dietary: concerning the respective percentage of protein and caloric
+energy in bacon, salt ling and butter, the absence of the former in the
+lastnamed and the abundance of the latter in the firstnamed.
+
+
+Which seemed to the host to be the predominant qualities of his guest?
+
+Confidence in himself, an equal and opposite power of abandonment and
+recuperation.
+
+
+What concomitant phenomenon took place in the vessel of liquid by the
+agency of fire?
+
+The phenomenon of ebullition. Fanned by a constant updraught of
+ventilation between the kitchen and the chimneyflue, ignition was
+communicated from the faggots of precombustible fuel to polyhedral
+masses of bituminous coal, containing in compressed mineral form the
+foliated fossilised decidua of primeval forests which had in turn
+derived their vegetative existence from the sun, primal source of heat
+(radiant), transmitted through omnipresent luminiferous diathermanous
+ether. Heat (convected), a mode of motion developed by such
+combustion, was constantly and increasingly conveyed from the source
+of calorification to the liquid contained in the vessel, being radiated
+through the uneven unpolished dark surface of the metal iron, in part
+reflected, in part absorbed, in part transmitted, gradually raising
+the temperature of the water from normal to boiling point, a rise in
+temperature expressible as the result of an expenditure of 72 thermal
+units needed to raise 1 pound of water from 50 degrees to 212 degrees
+Fahrenheit.
+
+
+What announced the accomplishment of this rise in temperature?
+
+A double falciform ejection of water vapour from under the kettlelid at
+both sides simultaneously.
+
+
+For what personal purpose could Bloom have applied the water so boiled?
+
+To shave himself.
+
+
+What advantages attended shaving by night?
+
+A softer beard: a softer brush if intentionally allowed to remain from
+shave to shave in its agglutinated lather: a softer skin if unexpectedly
+encountering female acquaintances in remote places at incustomary hours:
+quiet reflections upon the course of the day: a cleaner sensation when
+awaking after a fresher sleep since matutinal noises, premonitions and
+perturbations, a clattered milkcan, a postman's double knock, a paper
+read, reread while lathering, relathering the same spot, a shock, a
+shoot, with thought of aught he sought though fraught with nought might
+cause a faster rate of shaving and a nick on which incision plaster with
+precision cut and humected and applied adhered: which was to be done.
+
+
+Why did absence of light disturb him less than presence of noise?
+
+Because of the surety of the sense of touch in his firm full masculine
+feminine passive active hand.
+
+
+What quality did it (his hand) possess but with what counteracting
+influence?
+
+The operative surgical quality but that he was reluctant to shed human
+blood even when the end justified the means, preferring, in their
+natural order, heliotherapy, psychophysicotherapeutics, osteopathic
+surgery.
+
+
+What lay under exposure on the lower, middle and upper shelves of the
+kitchen dresser, opened by Bloom?
+
+On the lower shelf five vertical breakfast plates, six horizontal
+breakfast saucers on which rested inverted breakfast cups, a
+moustachecup, uninverted, and saucer of Crown Derby, four white
+goldrimmed eggcups, an open shammy purse displaying coins, mostly
+copper, and a phial of aromatic (violet) comfits. On the middle shelf
+a chipped eggcup containing pepper, a drum of table salt, four
+conglomerated black olives in oleaginous paper, an empty pot of
+Plumtree's potted meat, an oval wicker basket bedded with fibre and
+containing one Jersey pear, a halfempty bottle of William Gilbey and
+Co's white invalid port, half disrobed of its swathe of coralpink tissue
+paper, a packet of Epps's soluble cocoa, five ounces of Anne Lynch's
+choice tea at 2/- per lb in a crinkled leadpaper bag, a cylindrical
+canister containing the best crystallised lump sugar, two onions, one,
+the larger, Spanish, entire, the other, smaller, Irish, bisected with
+augmented surface and more redolent, a jar of Irish Model Dairy's cream,
+a jug of brown crockery containing a naggin and a quarter of soured
+adulterated milk, converted by heat into water, acidulous serum and
+semisolidified curds, which added to the quantity subtracted for Mr
+Bloom's and Mrs Fleming's breakfasts, made one imperial pint, the total
+quantity originally delivered, two cloves, a halfpenny and a small dish
+containing a slice of fresh ribsteak. On the upper shelf a battery of
+jamjars (empty) of various sizes and proveniences.
+
+
+What attracted his attention lying on the apron of the dresser?
+
+Four polygonal fragments of two lacerated scarlet betting tickets,
+numbered 8 87, 88 6.
+
+
+What reminiscences temporarily corrugated his brow?
+
+Reminiscences of coincidences, truth stranger than fiction,
+preindicative of the result of the Gold Cup flat handicap, the official
+and definitive result of which he had read in the _Evening Telegraph_,
+late pink edition, in the cabman's shelter, at Butt bridge.
+
+
+Where had previous intimations of the result, effected or projected,
+been received by him?
+
+In Bernard Kiernan's licensed premises 8, 9 and 10 little Britain
+street: in David Byrne's licensed premises, 14 Duke street: in O'Connell
+street lower, outside Graham Lemon's when a dark man had placed in
+his hand a throwaway (subsequently thrown away), advertising Elijah,
+restorer of the church in Zion: in Lincoln place outside the premises of
+F. W. Sweny and Co (Limited), dispensing chemists, when, when Frederick
+M. (Bantam) Lyons had rapidly and successively requested, perused and
+restituted the copy of the current issue of the _Freeman's Journal and
+National Press_ which he had been about to throw away (subsequently
+thrown away), he had proceeded towards the oriental edifice of
+the Turkish and Warm Baths, 11 Leinster street, with the light of
+inspiration shining in his countenance and bearing in his arms the
+secret of the race, graven in the language of prediction.
+
+What qualifying considerations allayed his perturbations?
+
+The difficulties of interpretation since the significance of any event
+followed its occurrence as variably as the acoustic report followed the
+electrical discharge and of counterestimating against an actual loss
+by failure to interpret the total sum of possible losses proceeding
+originally from a successful interpretation.
+
+
+His mood?
+
+He had not risked, he did not expect, he had not been disappointed, he
+was satisfied.
+
+
+What satisfied him?
+
+To have sustained no positive loss. To have brought a positive gain to
+others. Light to the gentiles.
+
+
+How did Bloom prepare a collation for a gentile?
+
+He poured into two teacups two level spoonfuls, four in all, of Epps's
+soluble cocoa and proceeded according to the directions for use printed
+on the label, to each adding after sufficient time for infusion the
+prescribed ingredients for diffusion in the manner and in the quantity
+prescribed.
+
+
+What supererogatory marks of special hospitality did the host show his
+guest?
+
+Relinquishing his symposiarchal right to the moustache cup of imitation
+Crown Derby presented to him by his only daughter, Millicent (Milly),
+he substituted a cup identical with that of his guest and served
+extraordinarily to his guest and, in reduced measure, to himself the
+viscous cream ordinarily reserved for the breakfast of his wife Marion
+(Molly).
+
+
+Was the guest conscious of and did he acknowledge these marks of
+hospitality?
+
+His attention was directed to them by his host jocosely, and he accepted
+them seriously as they drank in jocoserious silence Epps's massproduct,
+the creature cocoa.
+
+
+Were there marks of hospitality which he contemplated but suppressed,
+reserving them for another and for himself on future occasions to
+complete the act begun?
+
+The reparation of a fissure of the length of 1 1/2 inches in the right
+side of his guest's jacket. A gift to his guest of one of the four
+lady's handkerchiefs, if and when ascertained to be in a presentable
+condition.
+
+
+Who drank more quickly?
+
+Bloom, having the advantage of ten seconds at the initiation and taking,
+from the concave surface of a spoon along the handle of which a steady
+flow of heat was conducted, three sips to his opponent's one, six to
+two, nine to three.
+
+
+What cerebration accompanied his frequentative act?
+
+Concluding by inspection but erroneously that his silent companion was
+engaged in mental composition he reflected on the pleasures derived from
+literature of instruction rather than of amusement as he himself had
+applied to the works of William Shakespeare more than once for the
+solution of difficult problems in imaginary or real life.
+
+
+Had he found their solution?
+
+In spite of careful and repeated reading of certain classical passages,
+aided by a glossary, he had derived imperfect conviction from the text,
+the answers not bearing in all points.
+
+
+What lines concluded his first piece of original verse written by him,
+potential poet, at the age of 11 in 1877 on the occasion of the offering
+of three prizes of 10/-, 5/- and 2/6 respectively for competition by the
+_Shamrock_, a weekly newspaper?
+
+ _An ambition to squint
+ At my verses in print
+ Makes me hope that for these you'll find room?.
+ If you so condescend
+ Then please place at the end
+ The name of yours truly, L. Bloom._
+
+Did he find four separating forces between his temporary guest and him?
+
+Name, age, race, creed.
+
+
+What anagrams had he made on his name in youth?
+
+ Leopold Bloom
+ Ellpodbomool
+ Molldopeloob
+ Bollopedoom
+ Old Ollebo, M. P.
+
+
+What acrostic upon the abbreviation of his first name had he (kinetic
+poet) sent to Miss Marion (Molly) Tweedy on the 14 February 1888?
+
+ _Poets oft have sung in rhyme
+ Of music sweet their praise divine.
+ Let them hymn it nine times nine.
+ Dearer far than song or wine.
+ You are mine. The world is mine._
+
+
+What had prevented him from completing a topical song (music by R. G.
+Johnston) on the events of the past, or fixtures for the actual, years,
+entitled _If Brian Boru could but come back and see old Dublin now_,
+commissioned by Michael Gunn, lessee of the Gaiety Theatre, 46, 47, 48,
+49 South King street, and to be introduced into the sixth scene, the
+valley of diamonds, of the second edition (30 January 1893) of the grand
+annual Christmas pantomime _Sinbad the Sailor_ (produced by R Shelton
+26 December 1892, written by Greenleaf Whittier, scenery by George
+A. Jackson and Cecil Hicks, costumes by Mrs and Miss Whelan under
+the personal supervision of Mrs Michael Gunn, ballets by Jessie Noir,
+harlequinade by Thomas Otto) and sung by Nelly Bouverist, principal
+girl?
+
+Firstly, oscillation between events of imperial and of local interest,
+the anticipated diamond jubilee of Queen Victoria (born 1820, acceded
+1837) and the posticipated opening of the new municipal fish market:
+secondly, apprehension of opposition from extreme circles on the
+questions of the respective visits of Their Royal Highnesses the
+duke and duchess of York (real) and of His Majesty King Brian Boru
+(imaginary): thirdly, a conflict between professional etiquette and
+professional emulation concerning the recent erections of the Grand
+Lyric Hall on Burgh Quay and the Theatre Royal in Hawkins street:
+fourthly, distraction resultant from compassion for Nelly Bouverist's
+non-intellectual, non-political, non-topical expression of countenance
+and concupiscence caused by Nelly Bouverist's revelations of white
+articles of non-intellectual, non-political, non-topical underclothing
+while she (Nelly Bouverist) was in the articles: fifthly, the
+difficulties of the selection of appropriate music and humorous
+allusions from _Everybody's Book of Jokes_ (1000 pages and a laugh in
+every one): sixthly, the rhymes, homophonous and cacophonous, associated
+with the names of the new lord mayor, Daniel Tallon, the new high
+sheriff, Thomas Pile and the new solicitorgeneral, Dunbar Plunket
+Barton.
+
+
+What relation existed between their ages?
+
+16 years before in 1888 when Bloom was of Stephen's present age Stephen
+was 6. 16 years after in 1920 when Stephen would be of Bloom's present
+age Bloom would be 54. In 1936 when Bloom would be 70 and Stephen 54
+their ages initially in the ratio of 16 to 0 would be as 17 1/2 to 13
+1/2, the proportion increasing and the disparity diminishing according
+as arbitrary future years were added, for if the proportion existing in
+1883 had continued immutable, conceiving that to be possible, till then
+1904 when Stephen was 22 Bloom would be 374 and in 1920 when Stephen
+would be 38, as Bloom then was, Bloom would be 646 while in 1952 when
+Stephen would have attained the maximum postdiluvian age of 70 Bloom,
+being 1190 years alive having been born in the year 714, would have
+surpassed by 221 years the maximum antediluvian age, that of Methusalah,
+969 years, while, if Stephen would continue to live until he would
+attain that age in the year 3072 A.D., Bloom would have been obliged to
+have been alive 83,300 years, having been obliged to have been born in
+the year 81,396 B.C.
+
+
+What events might nullify these calculations?
+
+The cessation of existence of both or either, the inauguration of a
+new era or calendar, the annihilation of the world and consequent
+extermination of the human species, inevitable but impredictable.
+
+
+How many previous encounters proved their preexisting acquaintance?
+
+Two. The first in the lilacgarden of Matthew Dillon's house, Medina
+Villa, Kimmage road, Roundtown, in 1887, in the company of Stephen's
+mother, Stephen being then of the age of 5 and reluctant to give his
+hand in salutation. The second in the coffeeroom of Breslin's hotel on a
+rainy Sunday in the January of 1892, in the company of Stephen's father
+and Stephen's granduncle, Stephen being then 5 years older.
+
+
+Did Bloom accept the invitation to dinner given then by the son and
+afterwards seconded by the father?
+
+Very gratefully, with grateful appreciation, with sincere appreciative
+gratitude, in appreciatively grateful sincerity of regret, he declined.
+
+
+Did their conversation on the subject of these reminiscences reveal a
+third connecting link between them?
+
+Mrs Riordan (Dante), a widow of independent means, had resided in the
+house of Stephen's parents from 1 September 1888 to 29 December 1891 and
+had also resided during the years 1892, 1893 and 1894 in the City Arms
+Hotel owned by Elizabeth O'Dowd of 54 Prussia street where, during parts
+of the years 1893 and 1894, she had been a constant informant of Bloom
+who resided also in the same hotel, being at that time a clerk in the
+employment of Joseph Cuffe of 5 Smithfield for the superintendence of
+sales in the adjacent Dublin Cattle market on the North Circular road.
+
+
+Had he performed any special corporal work of mercy for her?
+
+He had sometimes propelled her on warm summer evenings, an infirm widow
+of independent, if limited, means, in her convalescent bathchair
+with slow revolutions of its wheels as far as the corner of the North
+Circular road opposite Mr Gavin Low's place of business where she had
+remained for a certain time scanning through his onelensed binocular
+fieldglasses unrecognisable citizens on tramcars, roadster bicycles
+equipped with inflated pneumatic tyres, hackney carriages, tandems,
+private and hired landaus, dogcarts, ponytraps and brakes passing from
+the city to the Phoenix Park and vice versa.
+
+
+Why could he then support that his vigil with the greater equanimity?
+
+Because in middle youth he had often sat observing through a rondel
+of bossed glass of a multicoloured pane the spectacle offered with
+continual changes of the thoroughfare without, pedestrians, quadrupeds,
+velocipedes, vehicles, passing slowly, quickly, evenly, round and round
+and round the rim of a round and round precipitous globe.
+
+
+What distinct different memories had each of her now eight years
+deceased?
+
+The older, her bezique cards and counters, her Skye terrier, her
+suppositious wealth, her lapses of responsiveness and incipient
+catarrhal deafness: the younger, her lamp of colza oil before the statue
+of the Immaculate Conception, her green and maroon brushes for Charles
+Stewart Parnell and for Michael Davitt, her tissue papers.
+
+
+Were there no means still remaining to him to achieve the rejuvenation
+which these reminiscences divulged to a younger companion rendered the
+more desirable?
+
+The indoor exercises, formerly intermittently practised, subsequently
+abandoned, prescribed in Eugen Sandow's _Physical Strength and How to
+Obtain It_ which, designed particularly for commercial men engaged in
+sedentary occupations, were to be made with mental concentration in
+front of a mirror so as to bring into play the various families of
+muscles and produce successively a pleasant rigidity, a more pleasant
+relaxation and the most pleasant repristination of juvenile agility.
+
+
+Had any special agility been his in earlier youth?
+
+Though ringweight lifting had been beyond his strength and the full
+circle gyration beyond his courage yet as a High school scholar he
+had excelled in his stable and protracted execution of the half lever
+movement on the parallel bars in consequence of his abnormally developed
+abdominal muscles.
+
+
+Did either openly allude to their racial difference?
+
+Neither.
+
+
+What, reduced to their simplest reciprocal form, were Bloom's thoughts
+about Stephen's thoughts about Bloom and about Stephen's thoughts about
+Bloom's thoughts about Stephen?
+
+He thought that he thought that he was a jew whereas he knew that he
+knew that he knew that he was not.
+
+
+What, the enclosures of reticence removed, were their respective
+parentages?
+
+Bloom, only born male transubstantial heir of Rudolf Virag (subsequently
+Rudolph Bloom) of Szombathely, Vienna, Budapest, Milan, London and
+Dublin and of Ellen Higgins, second daughter of Julius Higgins (born
+Karoly) and Fanny Higgins (born Hegarty). Stephen, eldest surviving male
+consubstantial heir of Simon Dedalus of Cork and Dublin and of Mary,
+daughter of Richard and Christina Goulding (born Grier).
+
+
+Had Bloom and Stephen been baptised, and where and by whom, cleric or
+layman?
+
+Bloom (three times), by the reverend Mr Gilmer Johnston M. A., alone,
+in the protestant church of Saint Nicholas Without, Coombe, by James
+O'Connor, Philip Gilligan and James Fitzpatrick, together, under a pump
+in the village of Swords, and by the reverend Charles Malone C. C., in
+the church of the Three Patrons, Rathgar. Stephen (once) by the reverend
+Charles Malone C. C., alone, in the church of the Three Patrons,
+Rathgar.
+
+
+Did they find their educational careers similar?
+
+Substituting Stephen for Bloom Stoom would have passed successively
+through a dame's school and the high school. Substituting Bloom for
+Stephen Blephen would have passed successively through the preparatory,
+junior, middle and senior grades of the intermediate and through the
+matriculation, first arts, second arts and arts degree courses of the
+royal university.
+
+
+Why did Bloom refrain from stating that he had frequented the university
+of life?
+
+Because of his fluctuating incertitude as to whether this observation
+had or had not been already made by him to Stephen or by Stephen to him.
+
+
+What two temperaments did they individually represent?
+
+The scientific. The artistic.
+
+
+What proofs did Bloom adduce to prove that his tendency was towards
+applied, rather than towards pure, science?
+
+Certain possible inventions of which he had cogitated when reclining
+in a state of supine repletion to aid digestion, stimulated by his
+appreciation of the importance of inventions now common but once
+revolutionary, for example, the aeronautic parachute, the reflecting
+telescope, the spiral corkscrew, the safety pin, the mineral water
+siphon, the canal lock with winch and sluice, the suction pump.
+
+
+Were these inventions principally intended for an improved scheme of
+kindergarten?
+
+Yes, rendering obsolete popguns, elastic airbladders, games of hazard,
+catapults. They comprised astronomical kaleidoscopes exhibiting the
+twelve constellations of the zodiac from Aries to Pisces, miniature
+mechanical orreries, arithmetical gelatine lozenges, geometrical
+to correspond with zoological biscuits, globemap playing balls,
+historically costumed dolls.
+
+
+What also stimulated him in his cogitations?
+
+The financial success achieved by Ephraim Marks and Charles A. James,
+the former by his 1d bazaar at 42 George's street, south, the latter
+at his 6 1/2d shop and world's fancy fair and waxwork exhibition at 30
+Henry street, admission 2d, children 1d: and the infinite possibilities
+hitherto unexploited of the modern art of advertisement if condensed
+in triliteral monoideal symbols, vertically of maximum visibility
+(divined), horizontally of maximum legibility (deciphered) and of
+magnetising efficacy to arrest involuntary attention, to interest, to
+convince, to decide.
+
+
+Such as?
+
+K. II. Kino's 11/- Trousers. House of Keys. Alexander J. Keyes.
+
+
+Such as not?
+
+Look at this long candle. Calculate when it burns out and you receive
+gratis 1 pair of our special non-compo boots, guaranteed 1 candle power.
+Address: Barclay and Cook, 18 Talbot street.
+
+Bacilikil (Insect Powder). Veribest (Boot Blacking). Uwantit (Combined
+pocket twoblade penknife with corkscrew, nailfile and pipecleaner).
+
+
+Such as never?
+
+What is home without Plumtree's Potted Meat?
+
+Incomplete.
+
+With it an abode of bliss.
+
+Manufactured by George Plumtree, 23 Merchants' quay, Dublin, put up in
+4 oz pots, and inserted by Councillor Joseph P. Nannetti, M. P., Rotunda
+Ward, 19 Hardwicke street, under the obituary notices and anniversaries
+of deceases. The name on the label is Plumtree. A plumtree in a meatpot,
+registered trade mark. Beware of imitations. Peatmot. Trumplee. Moutpat.
+Plamtroo.
+
+
+Which example did he adduce to induce Stephen to deduce that
+originality, though producing its own reward, does not invariably
+conduce to success?
+
+His own ideated and rejected project of an illuminated showcart, drawn
+by a beast of burden, in which two smartly dressed girls were to be
+seated engaged in writing.
+
+
+What suggested scene was then constructed by Stephen?
+
+Solitary hotel in mountain pass. Autumn. Twilight. Fire lit. In dark
+corner young man seated. Young woman enters. Restless. Solitary. She
+sits. She goes to window. She stands. She sits. Twilight. She thinks.
+On solitary hotel paper she writes. She thinks. She writes. She sighs.
+Wheels and hoofs. She hurries out. He comes from his dark corner. He
+seizes solitary paper. He holds it towards fire. Twilight. He reads.
+Solitary.
+
+
+What?
+
+In sloping, upright and backhands: Queen's Hotel, Queen's Hotel, Queen's
+Hotel. Queen's Ho...
+
+
+What suggested scene was then reconstructed by Bloom?
+
+The Queen's Hotel, Ennis, county Clare, where Rudolph Bloom (Rudolf
+Virag) died on the evening of the 27 June 1886, at some hour unstated,
+in consequence of an overdose of monkshood (aconite) selfadministered in
+the form of a neuralgic liniment composed of 2 parts of aconite liniment
+to I of chloroform liniment (purchased by him at 10.20 a.m. on the
+morning of 27 June 1886 at the medical hall of Francis Dennehy, 17
+Church street, Ennis) after having, though not in consequence of having,
+purchased at 3.15 p.m. on the afternoon of 27 June 1886 a new boater
+straw hat, extra smart (after having, though not in consequence of
+having, purchased at the hour and in the place aforesaid, the toxin
+aforesaid), at the general drapery store of James Cullen, 4 Main street,
+Ennis.
+
+
+Did he attribute this homonymity to information or coincidence or
+intuition?
+
+Coincidence.
+
+
+Did he depict the scene verbally for his guest to see?
+
+He preferred himself to see another's face and listen to another's
+words by which potential narration was realised and kinetic temperament
+relieved.
+
+
+Did he see only a second coincidence in the second scene narrated to
+him, described by the narrator as _A Pisgah Sight of Palestine or The
+Parable of the Plums_?
+
+It, with the preceding scene and with others unnarrated but existent by
+implication, to which add essays on various subjects or moral apothegms
+(e.g. _My Favourite Hero or Procrastination is the Thief of Time_)
+composed during schoolyears, seemed to him to contain in itself and
+in conjunction with the personal equation certain possibilities of
+financial, social, personal and sexual success, whether specially
+collected and selected as model pedagogic themes (of cent per cent
+merit) for the use of preparatory and junior grade students or
+contributed in printed form, following the precedent of Philip Beaufoy
+or Doctor Dick or Heblon's _Studies in Blue_, to a publication of
+certified circulation and solvency or employed verbally as intellectual
+stimulation for sympathetic auditors, tacitly appreciative of successful
+narrative and confidently augurative of successful achievement, during
+the increasingly longer nights gradually following the summer solstice
+on the day but three following, videlicet, Tuesday, 21 June (S. Aloysius
+Gonzaga), sunrise 3.33 a.m., sunset 8.29 p.m.
+
+
+Which domestic problem as much as, if not more than, any other
+frequently engaged his mind?
+
+What to do with our wives.
+
+
+What had been his hypothetical singular solutions?
+
+Parlour games (dominos, halma, tiddledywinks, spilikins, cup and ball,
+nap, spoil five, bezique, twentyfive, beggar my neighbour, draughts,
+chess or backgammon): embroidery, darning or knitting for the
+policeaided clothing society: musical duets, mandoline and guitar, piano
+and flute, guitar and piano: legal scrivenery or envelope addressing:
+biweekly visits to variety entertainments: commercial activity as
+pleasantly commanding and pleasingly obeyed mistress proprietress in
+a cool dairy shop or warm cigar divan: the clandestine satisfaction of
+erotic irritation in masculine brothels, state inspected and medically
+controlled: social visits, at regular infrequent prevented intervals
+and with regular frequent preventive superintendence, to and from female
+acquaintances of recognised respectability in the vicinity: courses of
+evening instruction specially designed to render liberal instruction
+agreeable.
+
+
+What instances of deficient mental development in his wife inclined him
+in favour of the lastmentioned (ninth) solution?
+
+In disoccupied moments she had more than once covered a sheet of paper
+with signs and hieroglyphics which she stated were Greek and Irish and
+Hebrew characters. She had interrogated constantly at varying intervals
+as to the correct method of writing the capital initial of the name of
+a city in Canada, Quebec. She understood little of political
+complications, internal, or balance of power, external. In calculating
+the addenda of bills she frequently had recourse to digital aid.
+After completion of laconic epistolary compositions she abandoned
+the implement of calligraphy in the encaustic pigment, exposed to
+the corrosive action of copperas, green vitriol and nutgall. Unusual
+polysyllables of foreign origin she interpreted phonetically or by false
+analogy or by both: metempsychosis (met him pike hoses), _alias_ (a
+mendacious person mentioned in sacred scripture).
+
+
+What compensated in the false balance of her intelligence for these and
+such deficiencies of judgment regarding persons, places and things?
+
+The false apparent parallelism of all perpendicular arms of all
+balances, proved true by construction. The counterbalance of her
+proficiency of judgment regarding one person, proved true by experiment.
+
+
+How had he attempted to remedy this state of comparative ignorance?
+
+Variously. By leaving in a conspicuous place a certain book open at a
+certain page: by assuming in her, when alluding explanatorily, latent
+knowledge: by open ridicule in her presence of some absent other's
+ignorant lapse.
+
+
+With what success had he attempted direct instruction?
+
+She followed not all, a part of the whole, gave attention with interest
+comprehended with surprise, with care repeated, with greater difficulty
+remembered, forgot with ease, with misgiving reremembered, rerepeated
+with error.
+
+
+What system had proved more effective?
+
+Indirect suggestion implicating selfinterest.
+
+
+Example?
+
+She disliked umbrella with rain, he liked woman with umbrella, she
+disliked new hat with rain, he liked woman with new hat, he bought new
+hat with rain, she carried umbrella with new hat.
+
+
+Accepting the analogy implied in his guest's parable which examples of
+postexilic eminence did he adduce?
+
+Three seekers of the pure truth, Moses of Egypt, Moses Maimonides,
+author of _More Nebukim_ (Guide of the Perplexed) and Moses Mendelssohn
+of such eminence that from Moses (of Egypt) to Moses (Mendelssohn) there
+arose none like Moses (Maimonides).
+
+
+What statement was made, under correction, by Bloom concerning a fourth
+seeker of pure truth, by name Aristotle, mentioned, with permission, by
+Stephen?
+
+That the seeker mentioned had been a pupil of a rabbinical philosopher,
+name uncertain.
+
+
+Were other anapocryphal illustrious sons of the law and children of a
+selected or rejected race mentioned?
+
+Felix Bartholdy Mendelssohn (composer), Baruch Spinoza (philosopher),
+Mendoza (pugilist), Ferdinand Lassalle (reformer, duellist).
+
+
+What fragments of verse from the ancient Hebrew and ancient Irish
+languages were cited with modulations of voice and translation of texts
+by guest to host and by host to guest?
+
+By Stephen: _suil, suil, suil arun, suil go siocair agus suil go cuin_
+(walk, walk, walk your way, walk in safety, walk with care).
+
+
+By Bloom: _Kkifeloch, harimon rakatejch m'baad l'zamatejch_ (thy temple
+amid thy hair is as a slice of pomegranate).
+
+
+How was a glyphic comparison of the phonic symbols of both languages
+made in substantiation of the oral comparison?
+
+By juxtaposition. On the penultimate blank page of a book of inferior
+literary style, entituled _Sweets of Sin_ (produced by Bloom and so
+manipulated that its front cover came in contact with the surface of
+the table) with a pencil (supplied by Stephen) Stephen wrote the Irish
+characters for gee, eh, dee, em, simple and modified, and Bloom in turn
+wrote the Hebrew characters ghimel, aleph, daleth and (in the absence of
+mem) a substituted qoph, explaining their arithmetical values as ordinal
+and cardinal numbers, videlicet 3, 1, 4, and 100.
+
+
+Was the knowledge possessed by both of each of these languages, the
+extinct and the revived, theoretical or practical?
+
+Theoretical, being confined to certain grammatical rules of accidence
+and syntax and practically excluding vocabulary.
+
+
+What points of contact existed between these languages and between the
+peoples who spoke them?
+
+The presence of guttural sounds, diacritic aspirations, epenthetic and
+servile letters in both languages: their antiquity, both having been
+taught on the plain of Shinar 242 years after the deluge in the seminary
+instituted by Fenius Farsaigh, descendant of Noah, progenitor of Israel,
+and ascendant of Heber and Heremon, progenitors of Ireland: their
+archaeological, genealogical, hagiographical, exegetical, homiletic,
+toponomastic, historical and religious literatures comprising the works
+of rabbis and culdees, Torah, Talmud (Mischna and Ghemara), Massor,
+Pentateuch, Book of the Dun Cow, Book of Ballymote, Garland of Howth,
+Book of Kells: their dispersal, persecution, survival and revival: the
+isolation of their synagogical and ecclesiastical rites in ghetto (S.
+Mary's Abbey) and masshouse (Adam and Eve's tavern): the proscription
+of their national costumes in penal laws and jewish dress acts: the
+restoration in Chanah David of Zion and the possibility of Irish
+political autonomy or devolution.
+
+
+What anthem did Bloom chant partially in anticipation of that multiple,
+ethnically irreducible consummation?
+
+ _Kolod balejwaw pnimah
+ Nefesch, jehudi, homijah._
+
+
+Why was the chant arrested at the conclusion of this first distich?
+
+In consequence of defective mnemotechnic.
+
+
+How did the chanter compensate for this deficiency?
+
+By a periphrastic version of the general text.
+
+
+In what common study did their mutual reflections merge?
+
+The increasing simplification traceable from the Egyptian epigraphic
+hieroglyphs to the Greek and Roman alphabets and the anticipation of
+modern stenography and telegraphic code in the cuneiform inscriptions
+(Semitic) and the virgular quinquecostate ogham writing (Celtic). Did
+the guest comply with his host's request?
+
+Doubly, by appending his signature in Irish and Roman characters.
+
+What was Stephen's auditive sensation?
+
+He heard in a profound ancient male unfamiliar melody the accumulation
+of the past.
+
+
+What was Bloom's visual sensation?
+
+He saw in a quick young male familiar form the predestination of a
+future.
+
+
+What were Stephen's and Bloom's quasisimultaneous volitional
+quasisensations of concealed identities?
+
+Visually, Stephen's: The traditional figure of hypostasis, depicted
+by Johannes Damascenus, Lentulus Romanus and Epiphanius Monachus as
+leucodermic, sesquipedalian with winedark hair. Auditively, Bloom's: The
+traditional accent of the ecstasy of catastrophe.
+
+
+What future careers had been possible for Bloom in the past and with
+what exemplars?
+
+In the church, Roman, Anglican or Nonconformist: exemplars, the very
+reverend John Conmee S. J., the reverend T. Salmon, D. D., provost of
+Trinity college, Dr Alexander J. Dowie. At the bar, English or Irish:
+exemplars, Seymour Bushe, K. C., Rufus Isaacs, K. C. On the stage modern
+or Shakespearean: exemplars, Charles Wyndham, high comedian Osmond
+Tearle (died 1901), exponent of Shakespeare.
+
+
+Did the host encourage his guest to chant in a modulated voice a strange
+legend on an allied theme?
+
+Reassuringly, their place, where none could hear them talk, being
+secluded, reassured, the decocted beverages, allowing for subsolid
+residual sediment of a mechanical mixture, water plus sugar plus cream
+plus cocoa, having been consumed.
+
+
+Recite the first (major) part of this chanted legend.
+
+ _Little Harry Hughes and his schoolfellows all
+ Went out for to play ball.
+ And the very first ball little Harry Hughes played
+ He drove it o'er the jew's garden wall.
+ And the very second ball little Harry Hughes played
+ He broke the jew's windows all._
+
+
+
+How did the son of Rudolph receive this first part?
+
+
+With unmixed feeling. Smiling, a jew he heard with pleasure and saw the
+unbroken kitchen window.
+
+
+Recite the second part (minor) of the legend.
+
+ _Then out there came the jew's daughter
+ And she all dressed in green.
+ "Come back, come back, you pretty little boy,
+ And play your ball again."
+
+ "I can't come back and I won't come back
+ Without my schoolfellows all.
+ For if my master he did hear
+ He'd make it a sorry ball."
+
+ She took him by the lilywhite hand
+ And led him along the hall
+ Until she led him to a room
+ Where none could hear him call.
+
+ She took a penknife out of her pocket
+ And cut off his little head.
+ And now he'll play his ball no more
+ For he lies among the dead._
+
+
+How did the father of Millicent receive this second part?
+
+With mixed feelings. Unsmiling, he heard and saw with wonder a jew's
+daughter, all dressed in green.
+
+
+Condense Stephen's commentary.
+
+One of all, the least of all, is the victim predestined. Once by
+inadvertence twice by design he challenges his destiny. It comes when he
+is abandoned and challenges him reluctant and, as an apparition of hope
+and youth, holds him unresisting. It leads him to a strange habitation,
+to a secret infidel apartment, and there, implacable, immolates him,
+consenting.
+
+
+Why was the host (victim predestined) sad?
+
+He wished that a tale of a deed should be told of a deed not by him
+should by him not be told.
+
+
+Why was the host (reluctant, unresisting) still?
+
+In accordance with the law of the conservation of energy.
+
+
+Why was the host (secret infidel) silent?
+
+He weighed the possible evidences for and against ritual murder: the
+incitations of the hierarchy, the superstition of the populace, the
+propagation of rumour in continued fraction of veridicity, the envy of
+opulence, the influence of retaliation, the sporadic reappearance of
+atavistic delinquency, the mitigating circumstances of fanaticism,
+hypnotic suggestion and somnambulism.
+
+
+From which (if any) of these mental or physical disorders was he not
+totally immune?
+
+From hypnotic suggestion: once, waking, he had not recognised his
+sleeping apartment: more than once, waking, he had been for an
+indefinite time incapable of moving or uttering sounds. From
+somnambulism: once, sleeping, his body had risen, crouched and
+crawled in the direction of a heatless fire and, having attained
+its destination, there, curled, unheated, in night attire had lain,
+sleeping.
+
+
+Had this latter or any cognate phenomenon declared itself in any member
+of his family?
+
+Twice, in Holles street and in Ontario terrace, his daughter Millicent
+(Milly) at the ages of 6 and 8 years had uttered in sleep an exclamation
+of terror and had replied to the interrogations of two figures in night
+attire with a vacant mute expression.
+
+
+What other infantile memories had he of her?
+
+15 June 1889. A querulous newborn female infant crying to cause and
+lessen congestion. A child renamed Padney Socks she shook with shocks
+her moneybox: counted his three free moneypenny buttons, one, tloo,
+tlee: a doll, a boy, a sailor she cast away: blond, born of two dark,
+she had blond ancestry, remote, a violation, Herr Hauptmann Hainau,
+Austrian army, proximate, a hallucination, lieutenant Mulvey, British
+navy.
+
+
+What endemic characteristics were present?
+
+Conversely the nasal and frontal formation was derived in a direct
+line of lineage which, though interrupted, would continue at distant
+intervals to more distant intervals to its most distant intervals.
+
+
+What memories had he of her adolescence?
+
+She relegated her hoop and skippingrope to a recess. On the duke's lawn,
+entreated by an English visitor, she declined to permit him to make and
+take away her photographic image (objection not stated). On the South
+Circular road in the company of Elsa Potter, followed by an individual
+of sinister aspect, she went half way down Stamer street and turned
+abruptly back (reason of change not stated). On the vigil of the 15th
+anniversary of her birth she wrote a letter from Mullingar, county
+Westmeath, making a brief allusion to a local student (faculty and year
+not stated).
+
+
+Did that first division, portending a second division, afflict him?
+
+Less than he had imagined, more than he had hoped.
+
+
+What second departure was contemporaneously perceived by him similarly,
+if differently?
+
+A temporary departure of his cat.
+
+
+Why similarly, why differently?
+
+Similarly, because actuated by a secret purpose the quest of a new male
+
+(Mullingar student) or of a healing herb (valerian). Differently,
+because of different possible returns to the inhabitants or to the
+habitation.
+
+
+In other respects were their differences similar?
+
+In passivity, in economy, in the instinct of tradition, in
+unexpectedness.
+
+
+As?
+
+Inasmuch as leaning she sustained her blond hair for him to ribbon it
+for her (cf neckarching cat). Moreover, on the free surface of the lake
+in Stephen's green amid inverted reflections of trees her uncommented
+spit, describing concentric circles of waterrings, indicated by the
+constancy of its permanence the locus of a somnolent prostrate fish (cf
+mousewatching cat).
+
+Again, in order to remember the date, combatants, issue and consequences
+of a famous military engagement she pulled a plait of her hair (cf
+earwashing cat). Furthermore, silly Milly, she dreamed of having had
+an unspoken unremembered conversation with a horse whose name had been
+Joseph to whom (which) she had offered a tumblerful of lemonade which
+it (he) had appeared to have accepted (cf hearthdreaming cat). Hence, in
+passivity, in economy, in the instinct of tradition, in unexpectedness,
+their differences were similar.
+
+
+In what way had he utilised gifts (1) an owl, (2) a clock, given as
+matrimonial auguries, to interest and to instruct her?
+
+As object lessons to explain: 1) the nature and habits of oviparous
+animals, the possibility of aerial flight, certain abnormalities of
+vision, the secular process of imbalsamation: 2) the principle of the
+pendulum, exemplified in bob, wheelgear and regulator, the translation
+in terms of human or social regulation of the various positions of
+clockwise moveable indicators on an unmoving dial, the exactitude of the
+recurrence per hour of an instant in each hour when the longer and the
+shorter indicator were at the same angle of inclination, _videlicet_, 5
+5/11 minutes past each hour per hour in arithmetical progression.
+
+
+In what manners did she reciprocate?
+
+She remembered: on the 27th anniversary of his birth she presented to
+him a breakfast moustachecup of imitation Crown Derby porcelain ware.
+She provided: at quarter day or thereabouts if or when purchases
+had been made by him not for her she showed herself attentive to his
+necessities, anticipating his desires. She admired: a natural phenomenon
+having been explained by him to her she expressed the immediate desire
+to possess without gradual acquisition a fraction of his science, the
+moiety, the quarter, a thousandth part.
+
+
+What proposal did Bloom, diambulist, father of Milly, somnambulist, make
+to Stephen, noctambulist?
+
+To pass in repose the hours intervening between Thursday (proper) and
+Friday (normal) on an extemporised cubicle in the apartment immediately
+above the kitchen and immediately adjacent to the sleeping apartment of
+his host and hostess.
+
+
+What various advantages would or might have resulted from a prolongation
+of such an extemporisation?
+
+For the guest: security of domicile and seclusion of study. For the
+host: rejuvenation of intelligence, vicarious satisfaction. For the
+hostess: disintegration of obsession, acquisition of correct Italian
+pronunciation.
+
+
+Why might these several provisional contingencies between a guest and
+a hostess not necessarily preclude or be precluded by a permanent
+eventuality of reconciliatory union between a schoolfellow and a jew's
+daughter?
+
+Because the way to daughter led through mother, the way to mother
+through daughter.
+
+
+To what inconsequent polysyllabic question of his host did the guest
+return a monosyllabic negative answer?
+
+If he had known the late Mrs Emily Sinico, accidentally killed at Sydney
+Parade railway station, 14 October 1903.
+
+
+What inchoate corollary statement was consequently suppressed by the
+host?
+
+A statement explanatory of his absence on the occasion of the interment
+of Mrs Mary Dedalus (born Goulding), 26 June 1903, vigil of the
+anniversary of the decease of Rudolph Bloom (born Virag).
+
+
+Was the proposal of asylum accepted?
+
+Promptly, inexplicably, with amicability, gratefully it was declined.
+What exchange of money took place between host and guest?
+
+The former returned to the latter, without interest, a sum of money
+(1-7-0), one pound seven shillings sterling, advanced by the latter to
+the former.
+
+
+What counterproposals were alternately advanced, accepted, modified,
+declined, restated in other terms, reaccepted, ratified, reconfirmed?
+
+To inaugurate a prearranged course of Italian instruction, place
+the residence of the instructed. To inaugurate a course of vocal
+instruction, place the residence of the instructress. To inaugurate
+a series of static semistatic and peripatetic intellectual dialogues,
+places the residence of both speakers (if both speakers were resident in
+the same place), the Ship hotel and tavern, 6 Lower Abbey street (W. and
+E. Connery, proprietors), the National Library of Ireland, 10 Kildare
+street, the National Maternity Hospital, 29, 30 and 31 Holles street, a
+public garden, the vicinity of a place of worship, a conjunction of two
+or more public thoroughfares, the point of bisection of a right line
+drawn between their residences (if both speakers were resident in
+different places).
+
+
+What rendered problematic for Bloom the realisation of these mutually
+selfexcluding propositions?
+
+The irreparability of the past: once at a performance of Albert
+Hengler's circus in the Rotunda, Rutland square, Dublin, an intuitive
+particoloured clown in quest of paternity had penetrated from the ring
+to a place in the auditorium where Bloom, solitary, was seated and had
+publicly declared to an exhilarated audience that he (Bloom) was his
+(the clown's) papa. The imprevidibility of the future: once in the
+summer of 1898 he (Bloom) had marked a florin (2/-) with three notches
+on the milled edge and tendered it m payment of an account due to and
+received by J. and T. Davy, family grocers, 1 Charlemont Mall, Grand
+Canal, for circulation on the waters of civic finance, for possible,
+circuitous or direct, return.
+
+
+Was the clown Bloom's son?
+
+No.
+
+
+Had Bloom's coin returned?
+
+Never.
+
+
+Why would a recurrent frustration the more depress him?
+
+Because at the critical turningpoint of human existence he desired to
+amend many social conditions, the product of inequality and avarice and
+international animosity. He believed then that human life was infinitely
+perfectible, eliminating these conditions?
+
+There remained the generic conditions imposed by natural, as distinct
+from human law, as integral parts of the human whole: the necessity of
+destruction to procure alimentary sustenance: the painful character of
+the ultimate functions of separate existence, the agonies of birth and
+death: the monotonous menstruation of simian and (particularly) human
+females extending from the age of puberty to the menopause: inevitable
+accidents at sea, in mines and factories: certain very painful maladies
+and their resultant surgical operations, innate lunacy and congenital
+criminality, decimating epidemics: catastrophic cataclysms which make
+terror the basis of human mentality: seismic upheavals the epicentres
+of which are located in densely populated regions: the fact of vital
+growth, through convulsions of metamorphosis, from infancy through
+maturity to decay.
+
+
+Why did he desist from speculation?
+
+Because it was a task for a superior intelligence to substitute other
+more acceptable phenomena in the place of the less acceptable phenomena
+to be removed.
+
+
+Did Stephen participate in his dejection?
+
+He affirmed his significance as a conscious rational animal proceeding
+syllogistically from the known to the unknown and a conscious rational
+reagent between a micro and a macrocosm ineluctably constructed upon the
+incertitude of the void.
+
+
+Was this affirmation apprehended by Bloom?
+
+Not verbally. Substantially.
+
+
+What comforted his misapprehension?
+
+That as a competent keyless citizen he had proceeded energetically from
+the unknown to the known through the incertitude of the void.
+
+
+In what order of precedence, with what attendant ceremony was the exodus
+from the house of bondage to the wilderness of inhabitation effected?
+
+Lighted Candle in Stick borne by
+
+BLOOM
+
+Diaconal Hat on Ashplant borne by
+
+STEPHEN:
+
+
+With what intonation secreto of what commemorative psalm?
+
+The 113th, _modus peregrinus: In exitu Israel de Egypto: domus Jacob de
+populo barbaro_.
+
+
+What did each do at the door of egress?
+
+Bloom set the candlestick on the floor. Stephen put the hat on his head.
+
+
+For what creature was the door of egress a door of ingress?
+
+For a cat.
+
+
+What spectacle confronted them when they, first the host, then the
+guest, emerged silently, doubly dark, from obscurity by a passage from
+the rere of the house into the penumbra of the garden?
+
+The heaventree of stars hung with humid nightblue fruit.
+
+
+With what meditations did Bloom accompany his demonstration to his
+companion of various constellations?
+
+Meditations of evolution increasingly vaster: of the moon invisible in
+incipient lunation, approaching perigee: of the infinite lattiginous
+scintillating uncondensed milky way, discernible by daylight by an
+observer placed at the lower end of a cylindrical vertical shaft 5000
+ft deep sunk from the surface towards the centre of the earth: of Sirius
+(alpha in Canis Maior) 10 lightyears (57,000,000,000,000 miles) distant
+and in volume 900 times the dimension of our planet: of Arcturus: of the
+precession of equinoxes: of Orion with belt and sextuple sun theta and
+nebula in which 100 of our solar systems could be contained: of moribund
+and of nascent new stars such as Nova in 1901: of our system plunging
+towards the constellation of Hercules: of the parallax or parallactic
+drift of socalled fixed stars, in reality evermoving wanderers from
+immeasurably remote eons to infinitely remote futures in comparison with
+which the years, threescore and ten, of allotted human life formed a
+parenthesis of infinitesimal brevity.
+
+
+Were there obverse meditations of involution increasingly less vast?
+
+Of the eons of geological periods recorded in the stratifications of the
+earth: of the myriad minute entomological organic existences concealed
+in cavities of the earth, beneath removable stones, in hives and mounds,
+of microbes, germs, bacteria, bacilli, spermatozoa: of the incalculable
+trillions of billions of millions of imperceptible molecules contained
+by cohesion of molecular affinity in a single pinhead: of the universe
+of human serum constellated with red and white bodies, themselves
+universes of void space constellated with other bodies, each, in
+continuity, its universe of divisible component bodies of which each was
+again divisible in divisions of redivisible component bodies, dividends
+and divisors ever diminishing without actual division till, if the
+progress were carried far enough, nought nowhere was never reached.
+
+
+Why did he not elaborate these calculations to a more precise result?
+
+Because some years previously in 1886 when occupied with the problem
+of the quadrature of the circle he had learned of the existence of a
+number computed to a relative degree of accuracy to be of such magnitude
+and of so many places, e.g., the 9th power of the 9th power of 9, that,
+the result having been obtained, 33 closely printed volumes of 1000
+pages each of innumerable quires and reams of India paper would have to
+be requisitioned in order to contain the complete tale of its printed
+integers of units, tens, hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands,
+hundreds of thousands, millions, tens of millions, hundreds of millions,
+billions, the nucleus of the nebula of every digit of every series
+containing succinctly the potentiality of being raised to the utmost
+kinetic elaboration of any power of any of its powers.
+
+
+Did he find the problems of the inhabitability of the planets and their
+satellites by a race, given in species, and of the possible social and
+moral redemption of said race by a redeemer, easier of solution?
+
+Of a different order of difficulty. Conscious that the human organism,
+normally capable of sustaining an atmospheric pressure of 19 tons,
+when elevated to a considerable altitude in the terrestrial atmosphere
+suffered with arithmetical progression of intensity, according as
+the line of demarcation between troposphere and stratosphere was
+approximated from nasal hemorrhage, impeded respiration and vertigo,
+when proposing this problem for solution, he had conjectured as a
+working hypothesis which could not be proved impossible that a more
+adaptable and differently anatomically constructed race of beings might
+subsist otherwise under Martian, Mercurial, Veneral, Jovian, Saturnian,
+Neptunian or Uranian sufficient and equivalent conditions, though
+an apogean humanity of beings created in varying forms with finite
+differences resulting similar to the whole and to one another would
+probably there as here remain inalterably and inalienably attached to
+vanities, to vanities of vanities and to all that is vanity.
+
+ And the problem of possible redemption?
+ The minor was proved by the major.
+
+
+Which various features of the constellations were in turn considered?
+
+The various colours significant of various degrees of vitality (white,
+yellow, crimson, vermilion, cinnabar): their degrees of brilliancy:
+their magnitudes revealed up to and including the 7th: their positions:
+the waggoner's star: Walsingham way: the chariot of David: the annular
+cinctures of Saturn: the condensation of spiral nebulae into suns: the
+interdependent gyrations of double suns: the independent synchronous
+discoveries of Galileo, Simon Marius, Piazzi, Le Verrier, Herschel,
+Galle: the systematisations attempted by Bode and Kepler of cubes
+of distances and squares of times of revolution: the almost infinite
+compressibility of hirsute comets and their vast elliptical egressive
+and reentrant orbits from perihelion to aphelion: the sidereal origin of
+meteoric stones: the Libyan floods on Mars about the period of the birth
+of the younger astroscopist: the annual recurrence of meteoric showers
+about the period of the feast of S. Lawrence (martyr, lo August): the
+monthly recurrence known as the new moon with the old moon in her arms:
+the posited influence of celestial on human bodies: the appearance of a
+star (1st magnitude) of exceeding brilliancy dominating by night and
+day (a new luminous sun generated by the collision and amalgamation in
+incandescence of two nonluminous exsuns) about the period of the
+birth of William Shakespeare over delta in the recumbent neversetting
+constellation of Cassiopeia and of a star (2nd magnitude) of similar
+origin but of lesser brilliancy which had appeared in and disappeared
+from the constellation of the Corona Septentrionalis about the period
+of the birth of Leopold Bloom and of other stars of (presumably) similar
+origin which had (effectively or presumably) appeared in and disappeared
+from the constellation of Andromeda about the period of the birth of
+Stephen Dedalus, and in and from the constellation of Auriga some years
+after the birth and death of Rudolph Bloom, junior, and in and from
+other constellations some years before or after the birth or death of
+other persons: the attendant phenomena of eclipses, solar and lunar,
+from immersion to emersion, abatement of wind, transit of shadow,
+taciturnity of winged creatures, emergence of nocturnal or crepuscular
+animals, persistence of infernal light, obscurity of terrestrial waters,
+pallor of human beings.
+
+
+His (Bloom's) logical conclusion, having weighed the matter and allowing
+for possible error?
+
+That it was not a heaventree, not a heavengrot, not a heavenbeast, not
+a heavenman. That it was a Utopia, there being no known method from
+the known to the unknown: an infinity renderable equally finite by the
+suppositious apposition of one or more bodies equally of the same and of
+different magnitudes: a mobility of illusory forms immobilised in space,
+remobilised in air: a past which possibly had ceased to exist as a
+present before its probable spectators had entered actual present
+existence.
+
+
+Was he more convinced of the esthetic value of the spectacle?
+
+Indubitably in consequence of the reiterated examples of poets in the
+delirium of the frenzy of attachment or in the abasement of rejection
+invoking ardent sympathetic constellations or the frigidity of the
+satellite of their planet.
+
+
+Did he then accept as an article of belief the theory of astrological
+influences upon sublunary disasters?
+
+It seemed to him as possible of proof as of confutation and the
+nomenclature employed in its selenographical charts as attributable to
+verifiable intuition as to fallacious analogy: the lake of dreams, the
+sea of rains, the gulf of dews, the ocean of fecundity.
+
+
+What special affinities appeared to him to exist between the moon and
+woman?
+
+Her antiquity in preceding and surviving successive tellurian
+generations: her nocturnal predominance: her satellitic dependence:
+her luminary reflection: her constancy under all her phases, rising
+and setting by her appointed times, waxing and waning: the forced
+invariability of her aspect: her indeterminate response to inaffirmative
+interrogation: her potency over effluent and refluent waters: her power
+to enamour, to mortify, to invest with beauty, to render insane, to
+incite to and aid delinquency: the tranquil inscrutability of her
+visage: the terribility of her isolated dominant implacable resplendent
+propinquity: her omens of tempest and of calm: the stimulation of her
+light, her motion and her presence: the admonition of her craters, her
+arid seas, her silence: her splendour, when visible: her attraction,
+when invisible.
+
+
+What visible luminous sign attracted Bloom's, who attracted Stephen's,
+gaze?
+
+In the second storey (rere) of his (Bloom's) house the light of a
+paraffin oil lamp with oblique shade projected on a screen of roller
+blind supplied by Frank O'Hara, window blind, curtain pole and revolving
+shutter manufacturer, 16 Aungier street.
+
+
+How did he elucidate the mystery of an invisible attractive person, his
+wife Marion (Molly) Bloom, denoted by a visible splendid sign, a lamp?
+
+With indirect and direct verbal allusions or affirmations: with subdued
+affection and admiration: with description: with impediment: with
+suggestion.
+
+
+Both then were silent?
+
+Silent, each contemplating the other in both mirrors of the reciprocal
+flesh of theirhisnothis fellowfaces.
+
+
+Were they indefinitely inactive?
+
+At Stephen's suggestion, at Bloom's instigation both, first Stephen,
+then Bloom, in penumbra urinated, their sides contiguous, their organs
+of micturition reciprocally rendered invisible by manual circumposition,
+their gazes, first Bloom's, then Stephen's, elevated to the projected
+luminous and semiluminous shadow.
+
+
+Similarly?
+
+The trajectories of their, first sequent, then simultaneous, urinations
+were dissimilar: Bloom's longer, less irruent, in the incomplete form of
+the bifurcated penultimate alphabetical letter, who in his ultimate
+year at High School (1880) had been capable of attaining the point
+of greatest altitude against the whole concurrent strength of the
+institution, 210 scholars: Stephen's higher, more sibilant, who in the
+ultimate hours of the previous day had augmented by diuretic consumption
+an insistent vesical pressure.
+
+
+What different problems presented themselves to each concerning the
+invisible audible collateral organ of the other?
+
+To Bloom: the problems of irritability, tumescence, rigidity,
+reactivity, dimension, sanitariness, pilosity.
+
+To Stephen: the problem of the sacerdotal integrity of Jesus circumcised
+(I January, holiday of obligation to hear mass and abstain from
+unnecessary servile work) and the problem as to whether the divine
+prepuce, the carnal bridal ring of the holy Roman catholic apostolic
+church, conserved in Calcata, were deserving of simple hyperduly or of
+the fourth degree of latria accorded to the abscission of such divine
+excrescences as hair and toenails.
+
+
+What celestial sign was by both simultaneously observed?
+
+A star precipitated with great apparent velocity across the firmament
+from Vega in the Lyre above the zenith beyond the stargroup of the Tress
+of Berenice towards the zodiacal sign of Leo.
+
+
+How did the centripetal remainer afford egress to the centrifugal
+departer?
+
+By inserting the barrel of an arruginated male key in the hole of an
+unstable female lock, obtaining a purchase on the bow of the key and
+turning its wards from right to left, withdrawing a bolt from its
+staple, pulling inward spasmodically an obsolescent unhinged door and
+revealing an aperture for free egress and free ingress.
+
+
+How did they take leave, one of the other, in separation?
+
+Standing perpendicular at the same door and on different sides of its
+base, the lines of their valedictory arms, meeting at any point and
+forming any angle less than the sum of two right angles.
+
+
+What sound accompanied the union of their tangent, the disunion of their
+(respectively) centrifugal and centripetal hands?
+
+The sound of the peal of the hour of the night by the chime of the bells
+in the church of Saint George.
+
+
+What echoes of that sound were by both and each heard?
+
+By Stephen:
+
+_Liliata rutilantium. Turma circumdet. Iubilantium te virginum. Chorus
+excipiat._
+
+By Bloom:
+
+ _Heigho, heigho,
+ Heigho, heigho._
+
+
+Where were the several members of the company which with Bloom that day
+at the bidding of that peal had travelled from Sandymount in the south
+to Glasnevin in the north?
+
+Martin Cunningham (in bed), Jack Power (in bed), Simon Dedalus (in bed),
+Ned Lambert (in bed), Tom Kernan (in bed), Joe Hynes (in bed), John
+Henry Menton (in bed), Bernard Corrigan (in bed), Patsy Dignam (in bed),
+Paddy Dignam (in the grave).
+
+
+Alone, what did Bloom hear?
+
+The double reverberation of retreating feet on the heavenborn earth, the
+double vibration of a jew's harp in the resonant lane.
+
+
+Alone, what did Bloom feel?
+
+The cold of interstellar space, thousands of degrees below freezing
+point or the absolute zero of Fahrenheit, Centigrade or Reaumur: the
+incipient intimations of proximate dawn.
+
+
+Of what did bellchime and handtouch and footstep and lonechill remind
+him?
+
+Of companions now in various manners in different places defunct: Percy
+Apjohn (killed in action, Modder River), Philip Gilligan (phthisis,
+Jervis Street hospital), Matthew F. Kane (accidental drowning, Dublin
+Bay), Philip Moisel (pyemia, Heytesbury street), Michael Hart (phthisis,
+Mater Misericordiae hospital), Patrick Dignam (apoplexy, Sandymount).
+
+
+What prospect of what phenomena inclined him to remain?
+
+The disparition of three final stars, the diffusion of daybreak, the
+apparition of a new solar disk.
+
+
+Had he ever been a spectator of those phenomena?
+
+Once, in 1887, after a protracted performance of charades in the house
+of Luke Doyle, Kimmage, he had awaited with patience the apparition
+of the diurnal phenomenon, seated on a wall, his gaze turned in the
+direction of Mizrach, the east.
+
+
+He remembered the initial paraphenomena?
+
+More active air, a matutinal distant cock, ecclesiastical clocks at
+various points, avine music, the isolated tread of an early wayfarer,
+the visible diffusion of the light of an invisible luminous body, the
+first golden limb of the resurgent sun perceptible low on the horizon.
+
+
+Did he remain?
+
+With deep inspiration he returned, retraversing the garden, reentering
+the passage, reclosing the door. With brief suspiration he reassumed the
+candle, reascended the stairs, reapproached the door of the front room,
+hallfloor, and reentered.
+
+
+What suddenly arrested his ingress?
+
+The right temporal lobe of the hollow sphere of his cranium came into
+contact with a solid timber angle where, an infinitesimal but sensible
+fraction of a second later, a painful sensation was located in
+consequence of antecedent sensations transmitted and registered.
+
+
+Describe the alterations effected in the disposition of the articles of
+furniture.
+
+A sofa upholstered in prune plush had been translocated from opposite
+the door to the ingleside near the compactly furled Union Jack (an
+alteration which he had frequently intended to execute): the blue and
+white checker inlaid majolicatopped table had been placed opposite the
+door in the place vacated by the prune plush sofa: the walnut sideboard
+(a projecting angle of which had momentarily arrested his ingress) had
+been moved from its position beside the door to a more advantageous but
+more perilous position in front of the door: two chairs had been moved
+from right and left of the ingleside to the position originally occupied
+by the blue and white checker inlaid majolicatopped table.
+
+
+Describe them.
+
+One: a squat stuffed easychair, with stout arms extended and back
+slanted to the rere, which, repelled in recoil, had then upturned an
+irregular fringe of a rectangular rug and now displayed on its amply
+upholstered seat a centralised diffusing and diminishing discolouration.
+The other: a slender splayfoot chair of glossy cane curves, placed
+directly opposite the former, its frame from top to seat and from seat
+to base being varnished dark brown, its seat being a bright circle of
+white plaited rush.
+
+
+What significances attached to these two chairs?
+
+Significances of similitude, of posture, of symbolism, of circumstantial
+evidence, of testimonial supermanence.
+
+
+What occupied the position originally occupied by the sideboard?
+
+A vertical piano (Cadby) with exposed keyboard, its closed coffin
+supporting a pair of long yellow ladies' gloves and an emerald ashtray
+containing four consumed matches, a partly consumed cigarette and two
+discoloured ends of cigarettes, its musicrest supporting the music in
+the key of G natural for voice and piano of _Love's Old Sweet Song_
+(words by G. Clifton Bingham, composed by J. L. Molloy, sung by Madam
+Antoinette Sterling) open at the last page with the final indications
+_ad libitum, forte_, pedal, _animato_, sustained pedal, _ritirando_,
+close.
+
+
+With what sensations did Bloom contemplate in rotation these objects?
+
+With strain, elevating a candlestick: with pain, feeling on his right
+temple a contused tumescence: with attention, focussing his gaze on
+a large dull passive and a slender bright active: with solicitation,
+bending and downturning the upturned rugfringe: with amusement,
+remembering Dr Malachi Mulligan's scheme of colour containing the
+gradation of green: with pleasure, repeating the words and antecedent
+act and perceiving through various channels of internal sensibility
+the consequent and concomitant tepid pleasant diffusion of gradual
+discolouration.
+
+
+His next proceeding?
+
+From an open box on the majolicatopped table he extracted a black
+diminutive cone, one inch in height, placed it on its circular base on
+a small tin plate, placed his candlestick on the right corner of the
+mantelpiece, produced from his waistcoat a folded page of prospectus
+(illustrated) entitled Agendath Netaim, unfolded the same, examined
+it superficially, rolled it into a thin cylinder, ignited it in the
+candleflame, applied it when ignited to the apex of the cone till the
+latter reached the stage of rutilance, placed the cylinder in the basin
+of the candlestick disposing its unconsumed part in such a manner as to
+facilitate total combustion.
+
+
+What followed this operation?
+
+The truncated conical crater summit of the diminutive volcano emitted a
+vertical and serpentine fume redolent of aromatic oriental incense.
+
+
+What homothetic objects, other than the candlestick, stood on the
+mantelpiece?
+
+A timepiece of striated Connemara marble, stopped at the hour of 4.46
+a.m. on the 21 March 1896, matrimonial gift of Matthew Dillon: a dwarf
+tree of glacial arborescence under a transparent bellshade, matrimonial
+gift of Luke and Caroline Doyle: an embalmed owl, matrimonial gift of
+Alderman John Hooper.
+
+
+What interchanges of looks took place between these three objects and
+Bloom?
+
+In the mirror of the giltbordered pierglass the undecorated back of the
+dwarf tree regarded the upright back of the embalmed owl. Before
+the mirror the matrimonial gift of Alderman John Hooper with a clear
+melancholy wise bright motionless compassionate gaze regarded Bloom
+while Bloom with obscure tranquil profound motionless compassionated
+gaze regarded the matrimonial gift of Luke and Caroline Doyle.
+
+
+What composite asymmetrical image in the mirror then attracted his
+attention?
+
+The image of a solitary (ipsorelative) mutable (aliorelative) man.
+
+
+Why solitary (ipsorelative)?
+
+_Brothers and sisters had he none. Yet that man's father was his
+grandfather's son._
+
+
+Why mutable (aliorelative)?
+
+From infancy to maturity he had resembled his maternal procreatrix.
+From maturity to senility he would increasingly resemble his paternal
+procreator.
+
+
+What final visual impression was communicated to him by the mirror?
+
+The optical reflection of several inverted volumes improperly arranged
+and not in the order of their common letters with scintillating titles
+on the two bookshelves opposite.
+
+
+Catalogue these books.
+
+_Thom's Dublin Post Office Directory, 1886_. Denis Florence M'Carthy's
+_Poetical Works_ (copper beechleaf bookmark at p. 5). Shakespeare's
+_Works_ (dark crimson morocco, goldtooled).
+
+_The Useful Ready Reckoner_ (brown cloth).
+
+_The Secret History of the Court of Charles II_ (red cloth, tooled
+binding). _The Child's Guide_ (blue cloth).
+
+_The Beauties of Killarney_ (wrappers).
+
+_When We Were Boys_ by William O'Brien M. P. (green cloth, slightly
+faded, envelope bookmark at p. 217).
+
+_Thoughts from Spinoza_ (maroon leather).
+
+_The Story of the Heavens_ by Sir Robert Ball (blue cloth). Ellis's
+_Three Trips to Madagascar_ (brown cloth, title obliterated).
+
+_The Stark-Munro Letters_ by A. Conan Doyle, property of the City of
+Dublin Public Library, 106 Capel street, lent 21 May (Whitsun Eve) 1904,
+due 4 June 1904, 13 days overdue (black cloth binding, bearing white
+letternumber ticket).
+
+_Voyages in China_ by "Viator" (recovered with brown paper, red ink
+title).
+
+_Philosophy of the Talmud_ (sewn pamphlet). Lockhart's _Life of
+Napoleon_ (cover wanting, marginal annotations, minimising victories,
+aggrandising defeats of the protagonist).
+
+_Soll und Haben_ by Gustav Freytag (black boards, Gothic characters,
+cigarette coupon bookmark at p. 24). Hozier's _History of the
+Russo-Turkish War_ (brown cloth, a volumes, with gummed label, Garrison
+Library, Governor's Parade, Gibraltar, on verso of cover).
+
+_Laurence Bloomfield in Ireland_ by William Allingham (second edition,
+green cloth, gilt trefoil design, previous owner's name on recto of
+flyleaf erased).
+
+_A Handbook of Astronomy_ (cover, brown leather, detached, S plates,
+antique letterpress long primer, author's footnotes nonpareil, marginal
+clues brevier, captions small pica).
+
+_The Hidden Life of Christ_ (black boards).
+
+_In the Track of the Sun_ (yellow cloth, titlepage missing, recurrent
+title intestation).
+
+_Physical Strength and How to Obtain It_ by Eugen Sandow (red cloth).
+
+_Short but yet Plain Elements of Geometry_ written in French by F.
+Ignat. Pardies and rendered into English by John Harris D. D. London,
+printed for R. Knaplock at the Bifhop's Head, MDCCXI, with dedicatory
+epiftle to his worthy friend Charles Cox, efquire, Member of Parliament
+for the burgh of Southwark and having ink calligraphed statement on the
+flyleaf certifying that the book was the property of Michael Gallagher,
+dated this 10th day of May 1822 and requefting the perfon who should
+find it, if the book should be loft or go aftray, to reftore it to
+Michael Gallagher, carpenter, Dufery Gate, Ennifcorthy, county Wicklow,
+the fineft place in the world.
+
+
+What reflections occupied his mind during the process of reversion of
+the inverted volumes?
+
+The necessity of order, a place for everything and everything in its
+place: the deficient appreciation of literature possessed by females:
+the incongruity of an apple incuneated in a tumbler and of an umbrella
+inclined in a closestool: the insecurity of hiding any secret document
+behind, beneath or between the pages of a book.
+
+
+Which volume was the largest in bulk?
+
+Hozier's _History of the Russo-Turkish war._
+
+
+What among other data did the second volume of the work in question
+contain?
+
+The name of a decisive battle (forgotten), frequently remembered by a
+decisive officer, major Brian Cooper Tweedy (remembered).
+
+
+Why, firstly and secondly, did he not consult the work in question?
+
+Firstly, in order to exercise mnemotechnic: secondly, because after an
+interval of amnesia, when, seated at the central table, about to consult
+the work in question, he remembered by mnemotechnic the name of the
+military engagement, Plevna.
+
+
+What caused him consolation in his sitting posture?
+
+The candour, nudity, pose, tranquility, youth, grace, sex, counsel of a
+statue erect in the centre of the table, an image of Narcissus purchased
+by auction from P. A. Wren, 9 Bachelor's Walk.
+
+
+What caused him irritation in his sitting posture? Inhibitory pressure
+of collar (size 17) and waistcoat (5 buttons), two articles of clothing
+superfluous in the costume of mature males and inelastic to alterations
+of mass by expansion.
+
+
+How was the irritation allayed?
+
+He removed his collar, with contained black necktie and collapsible
+stud, from his neck to a position on the left of the table. He
+unbuttoned successively in reversed direction waistcoat, trousers, shirt
+and vest along the medial line of irregular incrispated black hairs
+extending in triangular convergence from the pelvic basin over the
+circumference of the abdomen and umbilicular fossicle along the medial
+line of nodes to the intersection of the sixth pectoral vertebrae,
+thence produced both ways at right angles and terminating in circles
+described about two equidistant points, right and left, on the summits
+of the mammary prominences. He unbraced successively each of six minus
+one braced trouser buttons, arranged in pairs, of which one incomplete.
+
+
+What involuntary actions followed?
+
+He compressed between 2 fingers the flesh circumjacent to a cicatrice in
+the left infracostal region below the diaphragm resulting from a sting
+inflicted 2 weeks and 3 days previously (23 May 1904) by a bee.
+He scratched imprecisely with his right hand, though insensible of
+prurition, various points and surfaces of his partly exposed, wholly
+abluted skin. He inserted his left hand into the left lower pocket of
+his waistcoat and extracted and replaced a silver coin (I shilling),
+placed there (presumably) on the occasion (17 October 1903) of the
+interment of Mrs Emily Sinico, Sydney Parade.
+
+
+Compile the budget for 16 June 1904. DEBIT
+
+ 1 Pork Kidney
+ 1 Copy FREEMAN'S JOURNAL
+ 1 Bath And Gratification
+ Tramfare
+ 1 In Memoriam Patrick Dignam
+ 2 Banbury cakes
+ 1 Lunch
+ 1 Renewal fee for book
+ 1 Packet Notepaper and Envelopes
+ 1 Dinner and Gratification
+ 1 Postal Order and Stamp
+ Tramfare
+ 1 Pig's Foot
+ 1 Sheep's Trotter
+ 1 Cake Fry's Plain Chocolate
+ 1 Square Soda Bread
+ 1 Coffee and Bun
+ Loan (Stephen Dedalus) refunded
+ BALANCE
+
+
+ L. s. d.
+ 0--0--3
+ 0--0--1
+ 0--1--6
+ 0--0--1
+ 0--5--0
+ 0--0--1
+ 0--0--7
+ 0--1--0
+ 0--0--2
+ 0--2--0
+ 0--2--8
+ 0--0--1
+ 0--0--4
+ 0--0--3
+ 0--0--1
+ 0--0--4
+ 0--0--4
+ 1--7--0
+ 0-17--5
+ 2-19--3
+ CREDIT
+
+ Cash in hand
+ Commission recd. _Freeman's Journal_
+ Loan (Stephen Dedalus)
+
+
+
+
+
+ L. s. d.
+ 0--4--9
+ 1--7--6
+ 1--7--0
+
+
+
+
+
+ 2-19--3
+
+
+
+
+Did the process of divestiture continue?
+
+Sensible of a benignant persistent ache in his footsoles he extended
+his foot to one side and observed the creases, protuberances and salient
+points caused by foot pressure in the course of walking repeatedly in
+several different directions, then, inclined, he disnoded the laceknots,
+unhooked and loosened the laces, took off each of his two boots for the
+second time, detached the partially moistened right sock through the
+fore part of which the nail of his great toe had again effracted, raised
+his right foot and, having unhooked a purple elastic sock suspender,
+took off his right sock, placed his unclothed right foot on the margin
+of the seat of his chair, picked at and gently lacerated the protruding
+part of the great toenail, raised the part lacerated to his nostrils and
+inhaled the odour of the quick, then, with satisfaction, threw away the
+lacerated ungual fragment.
+
+
+Why with satisfaction?
+
+Because the odour inhaled corresponded to other odours inhaled of other
+ungual fragments, picked and lacerated by Master Bloom, pupil of Mrs
+Ellis's juvenile school, patiently each night in the act of brief
+genuflection and nocturnal prayer and ambitious meditation.
+
+
+In what ultimate ambition had all concurrent and consecutive ambitions
+now coalesced?
+
+Not to inherit by right of primogeniture, gavelkind or borough English,
+or possess in perpetuity an extensive demesne of a sufficient number of
+acres, roods and perches, statute land measure (valuation 42 pounds), of
+grazing turbary surrounding a baronial hall with gatelodge and carriage
+drive nor, on the other hand, a terracehouse or semidetached villa,
+described as _Rus in Urbe_ or _Qui si sana_, but to purchase by private
+treaty in fee simple a thatched bungalowshaped 2 storey dwellinghouse of
+southerly aspect, surmounted by vane and lightning conductor, connected
+with the earth, with porch covered by parasitic plants (ivy or Virginia
+creeper), halldoor, olive green, with smart carriage finish and neat
+doorbrasses, stucco front with gilt tracery at eaves and gable, rising,
+if possible, upon a gentle eminence with agreeable prospect from balcony
+with stone pillar parapet over unoccupied and unoccupyable interjacent
+pastures and standing in 5 or 6 acres of its own ground, at such
+a distance from the nearest public thoroughfare as to render its
+houselights visible at night above and through a quickset hornbeam hedge
+of topiary cutting, situate at a given point not less than 1 statute
+mile from the periphery of the metropolis, within a time limit of not
+more than 15 minutes from tram or train line (e.g., Dundrum, south, or
+Sutton, north, both localities equally reported by trial to resemble the
+terrestrial poles in being favourable climates for phthisical subjects),
+the premises to be held under feefarm grant, lease 999 years, the
+messuage to consist of 1 drawingroom with baywindow (2 lancets),
+thermometer affixed, 1 sittingroom, 4 bedrooms, 2 servants' rooms, tiled
+kitchen with close range and scullery, lounge hall fitted with linen
+wallpresses, fumed oak sectional bookcase containing the Encyclopaedia
+Britannica and New Century Dictionary, transverse obsolete medieval and
+oriental weapons, dinner gong, alabaster lamp, bowl pendant, vulcanite
+automatic telephone receiver with adjacent directory, handtufted
+Axminster carpet with cream ground and trellis border, loo table with
+pillar and claw legs, hearth with massive firebrasses and ormolu mantel
+chronometer clock, guaranteed timekeeper with cathedral chime, barometer
+with hygrographic chart, comfortable lounge settees and corner fitments,
+upholstered in ruby plush with good springing and sunk centre, three
+banner Japanese screen and cuspidors (club style, rich winecoloured
+leather, gloss renewable with a minimum of labour by use of linseed
+oil and vinegar) and pyramidically prismatic central chandelier lustre,
+bentwood perch with fingertame parrot (expurgated language), embossed
+mural paper at 10/- per dozen with transverse swags of carmine floral
+design and top crown frieze, staircase, three continuous flights at
+successive right angles, of varnished cleargrained oak, treads and
+risers, newel, balusters and handrail, with steppedup panel dado,
+dressed with camphorated wax: bathroom, hot and cold supply, reclining
+and shower: water closet on mezzanine provided with opaque singlepane
+oblong window, tipup seat, bracket lamp, brass tierod and brace,
+armrests, footstool and artistic oleograph on inner face of door:
+ditto, plain: servants' apartments with separate sanitary and hygienic
+necessaries for cook, general and betweenmaid (salary, rising by
+biennial unearned increments of 2 pounds, with comprehensive fidelity
+insurance, annual bonus (1 pound) and retiring allowance (based on
+the 65 system) after 30 years' service), pantry, buttery, larder,
+refrigerator, outoffices, coal and wood cellarage with winebin (still
+and sparkling vintages) for distinguished guests, if entertained to
+dinner (evening dress), carbon monoxide gas supply throughout.
+
+
+What additional attractions might the grounds contain?
+
+As addenda, a tennis and fives court, a shrubbery, a glass summerhouse
+with tropical palms, equipped in the best botanical manner, a rockery
+with waterspray, a beehive arranged on humane principles, oval
+flowerbeds in rectangular grassplots set with eccentric ellipses of
+scarlet and chrome tulips, blue scillas, crocuses, polyanthus, sweet
+William, sweet pea, lily of the valley (bulbs obtainable from sir James
+W. Mackey (Limited) wholesale and retail seed and bulb merchants and
+nurserymen, agents for chemical manures, 23 Sackville street, upper), an
+orchard, kitchen garden and vinery protected against illegal trespassers
+by glasstopped mural enclosures, a lumbershed with padlock for various
+inventoried implements.
+
+
+As?
+
+Eeltraps, lobsterpots, fishingrods, hatchet, steelyard, grindstone,
+clodcrusher, swatheturner, carriagesack, telescope ladder, 10 tooth
+rake, washing clogs, haytedder, tumbling rake, billhook, paintpot,
+brush, hoe and so on.
+
+What improvements might be subsequently introduced?
+
+A rabbitry and fowlrun, a dovecote, a botanical conservatory, 2 hammocks
+(lady's and gentleman's), a sundial shaded and sheltered by laburnum
+or lilac trees, an exotically harmonically accorded Japanese tinkle
+gatebell affixed to left lateral gatepost, a capacious waterbutt,
+a lawnmower with side delivery and grassbox, a lawnsprinkler with
+hydraulic hose.
+
+
+What facilities of transit were desirable?
+
+When citybound frequent connection by train or tram from their
+respective intermediate station or terminal. When countrybound
+velocipedes, a chainless freewheel roadster cycle with side basketcar
+attached, or draught conveyance, a donkey with wicker trap or smart
+phaeton with good working solidungular cob (roan gelding, 14 h).
+
+
+What might be the name of this erigible or erected residence?
+
+Bloom Cottage. Saint Leopold's. Flowerville.
+
+
+Could Bloom of 7 Eccles street foresee Bloom of Flowerville?
+
+In loose allwool garments with Harris tweed cap, price 8/6, and useful
+garden boots with elastic gussets and wateringcan, planting aligned
+young firtrees, syringing, pruning, staking, sowing hayseed, trundling a
+weedladen wheelbarrow without excessive fatigue at sunset amid the scent
+of newmown hay, ameliorating the soil, multiplying wisdom, achieving
+longevity.
+
+
+What syllabus of intellectual pursuits was simultaneously possible?
+
+Snapshot photography, comparative study of religions, folklore relative
+to various amatory and superstitious practices, contemplation of the
+celestial constellations.
+
+
+What lighter recreations?
+
+Outdoor: garden and fieldwork, cycling on level macadamised causeways
+ascents of moderately high hills, natation in secluded fresh water and
+unmolested river boating in secure wherry or light curricle with kedge
+anchor on reaches free from weirs and rapids (period of estivation),
+vespertinal perambulation or equestrian circumprocession with inspection
+of sterile landscape and contrastingly agreeable cottagers' fires of
+smoking peat turves (period of hibernation). Indoor: discussion in
+tepid security of unsolved historical and criminal problems: lecture of
+unexpurgated exotic erotic masterpieces: house carpentry with toolbox
+containing hammer, awl nails, screws, tintacks, gimlet, tweezers,
+bullnose plane and turnscrew. Might he become a gentleman farmer of
+field produce and live stock?
+
+Not impossibly, with 1 or 2 stripper cows, 1 pike of upland hay and
+requisite farming implements, e.g., an end-to-end churn, a turnip pulper
+etc.
+
+
+What would be his civic functions and social status among the county
+families and landed gentry?
+
+Arranged successively in ascending powers of hierarchical order, that
+of gardener, groundsman, cultivator, breeder, and at the zenith of his
+career, resident magistrate or justice of the peace with a family crest
+and coat of arms and appropriate classical motto _(Semper paratus_),
+duly recorded in the court directory (Bloom, Leopold P., M. P., P. C.,
+K. P., L. L. D. (_honoris causa_), Bloomville, Dundrum) and mentioned in
+court and fashionable intelligence (Mr and Mrs Leopold Bloom have left
+Kingstown for England).
+
+
+What course of action did he outline for himself in such capacity?
+
+A course that lay between undue clemency and excessive rigour:
+the dispensation in a heterogeneous society of arbitrary classes,
+incessantly rearranged in terms of greater and lesser social inequality,
+of unbiassed homogeneous indisputable justice, tempered with mitigants
+of the widest possible latitude but exactable to the uttermost farthing
+with confiscation of estate, real and personal, to the crown. Loyal to
+the highest constituted power in the land, actuated by an innate love of
+rectitude his aims would be the strict maintenance of public order,
+the repression of many abuses though not of all simultaneously (every
+measure of reform or retrenchment being a preliminary solution to be
+contained by fluxion in the final solution), the upholding of the letter
+of the law (common, statute and law merchant) against all traversers in
+covin and trespassers acting in contravention of bylaws and regulations,
+all resuscitators (by trespass and petty larceny of kindlings) of
+venville rights, obsolete by desuetude, all orotund instigators
+of international persecution, all perpetuators of international
+animosities, all menial molestors of domestic conviviality, all
+recalcitrant violators of domestic connubiality.
+
+
+Prove that he had loved rectitude from his earliest youth.
+
+To Master Percy Apjohn at High School in 1880 he had divulged his
+disbelief in the tenets of the Irish (protestant) church (to which his
+father Rudolf Virag (later Rudolph Bloom) had been converted from the
+Israelitic faith and communion in 1865 by the Society for promoting
+Christianity among the jews) subsequently abjured by him in favour of
+Roman catholicism at the epoch of and with a view to his matrimony
+in 1888. To Daniel Magrane and Francis Wade in 1882 during a juvenile
+friendship (terminated by the premature emigration of the former) he
+had advocated during nocturnal perambulations the political theory of
+colonial (e.g. Canadian) expansion and the evolutionary theories of
+Charles Darwin, expounded in _The Descent of Man_ and _The Origin
+of Species_. In 1885 he had publicly expressed his adherence to the
+collective and national economic programme advocated by James Fintan
+Lalor, John Fisher Murray, John Mitchel, J. F. X. O'Brien and others,
+the agrarian policy of Michael Davitt, the constitutional agitation of
+Charles Stewart Parnell (M. P. for Cork City), the programme of
+peace, retrenchment and reform of William Ewart Gladstone (M. P. for
+Midlothian, N. B.) and, in support of his political convictions, had
+climbed up into a secure position amid the ramifications of a tree
+on Northumberland road to see the entrance (2 February 1888) into the
+capital of a demonstrative torchlight procession of 20,000 torchbearers,
+divided into 120 trade corporations, bearing 2000 torches in escort of
+the marquess of Ripon and (honest) John Morley.
+
+
+How much and how did he propose to pay for this country residence?
+
+As per prospectus of the Industrious Foreign Acclimatised Nationalised
+Friendly Stateaided Building Society (incorporated 1874), a maximum
+of 60 pounds per annum, being 1/6 of an assured income, derived from
+giltedged securities, representing at 5 % simple interest on capital of
+1200 pounds (estimate of price at 20 years' purchase), of which to be
+paid on acquisition and the balance in the form of annual rent, viz. 800
+pounds plus 2 1/2 % interest on the same, repayable quarterly in equal
+annual instalments until extinction by amortisation of loan advanced for
+purchase within a period of 20 years, amounting to an annual rental of
+64 pounds, headrent included, the titledeeds to remain in possession
+of the lender or lenders with a saving clause envisaging forced sale,
+foreclosure and mutual compensation in the event of protracted failure
+to pay the terms assigned, otherwise the messuage to become the absolute
+property of the tenant occupier upon expiry of the period of years
+stipulated.
+
+
+What rapid but insecure means to opulence might facilitate immediate
+purchase?
+
+A private wireless telegraph which would transmit by dot and dash system
+the result of a national equine handicap (flat or steeplechase) of I or
+more miles and furlongs won by an outsider at odds of 50 to 1 at 3 hr
+8 m p.m. at Ascot (Greenwich time), the message being received and
+available for betting purposes in Dublin at 2.59 p.m. (Dunsink time).
+The unexpected discovery of an object of great monetary value (precious
+stone, valuable adhesive or impressed postage stamps (7 schilling,
+mauve, imperforate, Hamburg, 1866: 4 pence, rose, blue paper, perforate,
+Great Britain, 1855: 1 franc, stone, official, rouletted, diagonal
+surcharge, Luxemburg, 1878), antique dynastical ring, unique relic) in
+unusual repositories or by unusual means: from the air (dropped by an
+eagle in flight), by fire (amid the carbonised remains of an incendiated
+edifice), in the sea (amid flotsam, jetsam, lagan and derelict), on
+earth (in the gizzard of a comestible fowl). A Spanish prisoner's
+donation of a distant treasure of valuables or specie or bullion lodged
+with a solvent banking corporation loo years previously at 5% compound
+interest of the collective worth of 5,000,000 pounds stg (five million
+pounds sterling). A contract with an inconsiderate contractee for the
+delivery of 32 consignments of some given commodity in consideration of
+cash payment on delivery per delivery at the initial rate of 1/4d to be
+increased constantly in the geometrical progression of 2 (1/4d, 1/2d,
+1d, 2d, 4d, 8d, 1s 4d, 2s 8d to 32 terms). A prepared scheme
+based on a study of the laws of probability to break the bank at Monte
+Carlo. A solution of the secular problem of the quadrature of the
+circle, government premium 1,000,000 pounds sterling.
+
+
+Was vast wealth acquirable through industrial channels?
+
+The reclamation of dunams of waste arenary soil, proposed in the
+prospectus of Agendath Netaim, Bleibtreustrasse, Berlin, W. 15, by the
+cultivation of orange plantations and melonfields and reafforestation.
+The utilisation of waste paper, fells of sewer rodents, human excrement
+possessing chemical properties, in view of the vast production of the
+first, vast number of the second and immense quantity of the third,
+every normal human being of average vitality and appetite producing
+annually, cancelling byproducts of water, a sum total of 80 lbs. (mixed
+animal and vegetable diet), to be multiplied by 4,386,035, the total
+population of Ireland according to census returns of 1901.
+
+
+Were there schemes of wider scope?
+
+A scheme to be formulated and submitted for approval to the harbour
+commissioners for the exploitation of white coal (hydraulic power),
+obtained by hydroelectric plant at peak of tide at Dublin bar or at
+head of water at Poulaphouca or Powerscourt or catchment basins of main
+streams for the economic production of 500,000 W. H. P. of electricity.
+A scheme to enclose the peninsular delta of the North Bull at Dollymount
+and erect on the space of the foreland, used for golf links and rifle
+ranges, an asphalted esplanade with casinos, booths, shooting galleries,
+hotels, boardinghouses, readingrooms, establishments for mixed bathing.
+A scheme for the use of dogvans and goatvans for the delivery of early
+morning milk. A scheme for the development of Irish tourist traffic in
+and around Dublin by means of petrolpropelled riverboats, plying in the
+fluvial fairway between Island bridge and Ringsend, charabancs, narrow
+gauge local railways, and pleasure steamers for coastwise navigation
+(10/- per person per day, guide (trilingual) included). A scheme for
+the repristination of passenger and goods traffics over Irish waterways,
+when freed from weedbeds. A scheme to connect by tramline the Cattle
+Market (North Circular road and Prussia street) with the quays (Sheriff
+street, lower, and East Wall), parallel with the Link line railway
+laid (in conjunction with the Great Southern and Western railway line)
+between the cattle park, Liffey junction, and terminus of Midland Great
+Western Railway 43 to 45 North
+
+Wall, in proximity to the terminal stations or Dublin branches of Great
+Central Railway, Midland Railway of England, City of Dublin Steam Packet
+Company, Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway Company, Dublin and Glasgow
+Steam Packet Company, Glasgow, Dublin and Londonderry Steam Packet
+Company (Laird line), British and Irish Steam Packet Company, Dublin
+and Morecambe Steamers, London and North Western Railway Company, Dublin
+Port and Docks Board Landing Sheds and transit sheds of Palgrave, Murphy
+and Company, steamship owners, agents for steamers from Mediterranean,
+Spain, Portugal, France, Belgium and Holland and for Liverpool
+Underwriters' Association, the cost of acquired rolling stock for
+animal transport and of additional mileage operated by the Dublin United
+Tramways Company, limited, to be covered by graziers' fees.
+
+
+Positing what protasis would the contraction for such several schemes
+become a natural and necessary apodosis?
+
+Given a guarantee equal to the sum sought, the support, by deed of
+gift and transfer vouchers during donor's lifetime or by bequest
+after donor's painless extinction, of eminent financiers (Blum Pasha,
+Rothschild Guggenheim, Hirsch, Montefiore, Morgan, Rockefeller)
+possessing fortunes in 6 figures, amassed during a successful life, and
+joining capital with opportunity the thing required was done.
+
+
+What eventuality would render him independent of such wealth?
+
+The independent discovery of a goldseam of inexhaustible ore.
+
+
+For what reason did he meditate on schemes so difficult of realisation?
+
+It was one of his axioms that similar meditations or the automatic
+relation to himself of a narrative concerning himself or tranquil
+recollection of the past when practised habitually before retiring for
+the night alleviated fatigue and produced as a result sound repose and
+renovated vitality.
+
+
+His justifications?
+
+As a physicist he had learned that of the 70 years of complete human
+life at least 2/7, viz. 20 years are passed in sleep. As a philosopher
+he knew that at the termination of any allotted life only an
+infinitesimal part of any person's desires has been realised. As a
+physiologist he believed in the artificial placation of malignant
+agencies chiefly operative during somnolence.
+
+
+What did he fear?
+
+The committal of homicide or suicide during sleep by an aberration
+of the light of reason, the incommensurable categorical intelligence
+situated in the cerebral convolutions.
+
+
+What were habitually his final meditations?
+
+Of some one sole unique advertisement to cause passers to stop in
+wonder, a poster novelty, with all extraneous accretions excluded,
+reduced to its simplest and most efficient terms not exceeding the span
+of casual vision and congruous with the velocity of modern life.
+
+
+What did the first drawer unlocked contain?
+
+A Vere Foster's handwriting copybook, property of Milly (Millicent)
+Bloom, certain pages of which bore diagram drawings, marked _Papli_,
+which showed a large globular head with 5 hairs erect, 2 eyes in
+profile, the trunk full front with 3 large buttons, 1 triangular foot: 2
+fading photographs of queen Alexandra of England and of Maud Branscombe,
+actress and professional beauty: a Yuletide card, bearing on it a
+pictorial representation of a parasitic plant, the legend _Mizpah_, the
+date Xmas 1892, the name of the senders: from Mr + Mrs M. Comerford, the
+versicle: _May this Yuletide bring to thee, Joy and peace and welcome
+glee_: a butt of red partly liquefied sealing wax, obtained from the
+stores department of Messrs Hely's, Ltd., 89, 90, and 91 Dame street:
+a box containing the remainder of a gross of gilt "J" pennibs, obtained
+from same department of same firm: an old sandglass which rolled
+containing sand which rolled: a sealed prophecy (never unsealed) written
+by Leopold Bloom in 1886 concerning the consequences of the passing into
+law of William Ewart Gladstone's Home Rule bill of 1886 (never passed
+into law): a bazaar ticket, no 2004, of S. Kevin's Charity Fair, price
+6d, 100 prizes: an infantile epistle, dated, small em monday, reading:
+capital pee Papli comma capital aitch How are you note of interrogation
+capital eye I am very well full stop new paragraph signature with
+flourishes capital em Milly no stop: a cameo brooch, property of Ellen
+Bloom (born Higgins), deceased: a cameo scarfpin, property of Rudolph
+Bloom (born Virag), deceased: 3 typewritten letters, addressee, Henry
+Flower, c/o. P. O. Westland Row, addresser, Martha Clifford, c/o. P. O.
+Dolphin's Barn: the transliterated name and address of the addresser
+of the 3 letters in reversed alphabetic boustrophedonic punctated
+quadrilinear cryptogram (vowels suppressed) N. IGS./WI. UU. OX/W. OKS.
+MH/Y. IM: a press cutting from an English weekly periodical _Modern
+Society_, subject corporal chastisement in girls' schools: a pink ribbon
+which had festooned an Easter egg in the year 1899: two partly uncoiled
+rubber preservatives with reserve pockets, purchased by post from Box
+32, P. O., Charing Cross, London, W. C.: 1 pack of 1 dozen creamlaid
+envelopes and feintruled notepaper, watermarked, now reduced by 3: some
+assorted Austrian-Hungarian coins: 2 coupons of the Royal and Privileged
+Hungarian Lottery: a lowpower magnifying glass: 2 erotic photocards
+showing a) buccal coition between nude senorita (rere presentation,
+superior position) and nude torero (fore presentation, inferior
+position) b) anal violation by male religious (fully clothed, eyes
+abject) of female religious (partly clothed, eyes direct), purchased by
+post from Box 32, P. O., Charing Cross, London, W. C.: a press cutting
+of recipe for renovation of old tan boots: a Id adhesive stamp,
+lavender, of the reign of Queen Victoria: a chart of the measurements
+of Leopold Bloom compiled before, during and after 2 months' consecutive
+use of Sandow-Whiteley's pulley exerciser (men's 15/-, athlete's 20/-)
+viz. chest 28 in and 29 1/2 in, biceps 9 in and 10 in, forearm 8 1/2 in
+and 9 in, thigh 10 in and 12 in, calf 11 in and 12 in: 1 prospectus of
+The Wonderworker, the world's greatest remedy for rectal complaints,
+direct from Wonderworker, Coventry House, South Place, London E C,
+addressed (erroneously) to Mrs L. Bloom with brief accompanying note
+commencing (erroneously): Dear Madam.
+
+
+Quote the textual terms in which the prospectus claimed advantages for
+this thaumaturgic remedy.
+
+It heals and soothes while you sleep, in case of trouble in breaking
+wind, assists nature in the most formidable way, insuring instant relief
+in discharge of gases, keeping parts clean and free natural action, an
+initial outlay of 7/6 making a new man of you and life worth living.
+Ladies find Wonderworker especially useful, a pleasant surprise when
+they note delightful result like a cool drink of fresh spring water on
+a sultry summer's day. Recommend it to your lady and gentlemen friends,
+lasts a lifetime. Insert long round end. Wonderworker.
+
+
+Were there testimonials?
+
+Numerous. From clergyman, British naval officer, wellknown author, city
+man, hospital nurse, lady, mother of five, absentminded beggar.
+
+
+How did absentminded beggar's concluding testimonial conclude?
+
+What a pity the government did not supply our men with wonderworkers
+during the South African campaign! What a relief it would have been!
+
+
+What object did Bloom add to this collection of objects?
+
+A 4th typewritten letter received by Henry Flower (let H. F. be L. B.)
+from Martha Clifford (find M. C.).
+
+
+What pleasant reflection accompanied this action?
+
+The reflection that, apart from the letter in question, his magnetic
+face, form and address had been favourably received during the course of
+the preceding day by a wife (Mrs Josephine Breen, born Josie Powell),
+a nurse, Miss Callan (Christian name unknown), a maid, Gertrude (Gerty,
+family name unknown).
+
+
+What possibility suggested itself?
+
+The possibility of exercising virile power of fascination in the not
+immediate future after an expensive repast in a private apartment in
+the company of an elegant courtesan, of corporal beauty, moderately
+mercenary, variously instructed, a lady by origin.
+
+
+What did the 2nd drawer contain?
+
+Documents: the birth certificate of Leopold Paula Bloom: an endowment
+assurance policy of 500 pounds in the Scottish Widows' Assurance
+Society, intestated Millicent (Milly) Bloom, coming into force at 25
+years as with profit policy of 430 pounds, 462/10/0 and 500 pounds at
+60 years or death, 65 years or death and death, respectively, or
+with profit policy (paidup) of 299/10/0 together with cash payment of
+133/10/0, at option: a bank passbook issued by the Ulster Bank, College
+Green branch showing statement of a/c for halfyear ending 31 December
+1903, balance in depositor's favour: 18/14/6 (eighteen pounds, fourteen
+shillings and sixpence, sterling), net personalty: certificate of
+possession of 900 pounds, Canadian 4 percent (inscribed) government
+stock (free of stamp duty): dockets of the Catholic Cemeteries'
+(Glasnevin) Committee, relative to a graveplot purchased: a local press
+cutting concerning change of name by deedpoll.
+
+
+Quote the textual terms of this notice.
+
+I, Rudolph Virag, now resident at no 52 Clanbrassil street, Dublin,
+formerly of Szombathely in the kingdom of Hungary, hereby give notice
+that I have assumed and intend henceforth upon all occasions and at all
+times to be known by the name of Rudolph Bloom.
+
+
+What other objects relative to Rudolph Bloom (born Virag) were in the
+2nd drawer?
+
+An indistinct daguerreotype of Rudolf Virag and his father Leopold
+Virag executed in the year 1852 in the portrait atelier of their
+(respectively) 1st and 2nd cousin, Stefan Virag of Szesfehervar,
+Hungary. An ancient haggadah book in which a pair of hornrimmed convex
+spectacles inserted marked the passage of thanksgiving in the ritual
+prayers for Pessach (Passover): a photocard of the Queen's Hotel,
+Ennis, proprietor, Rudolph Bloom: an envelope addressed: _To My Dear Son
+Leopold_.
+
+
+What fractions of phrases did the lecture of those five whole words
+evoke?
+
+Tomorrow will be a week that I received... it is no use Leopold to be
+... with your dear mother... that is not more to stand... to her...
+all for me is out... be kind to Athos, Leopold... my dear son...
+always... of me... _das Herz... Gott... dein_...
+
+
+What reminiscences of a human subject suffering from progressive
+melancholia did these objects evoke in Bloom?
+
+An old man, widower, unkempt of hair, in bed, with head covered,
+sighing: an infirm dog, Athos: aconite, resorted to by increasing doses
+of grains and scruples as a palliative of recrudescent neuralgia: the
+face in death of a septuagenarian, suicide by poison.
+
+
+Why did Bloom experience a sentiment of remorse?
+
+Because in immature impatience he had treated with disrespect certain
+beliefs and practices.
+
+
+As?
+
+The prohibition of the use of fleshmeat and milk at one meal: the
+hebdomadary symposium of incoordinately abstract, perfervidly concrete
+mercantile coexreligionist excompatriots: the circumcision of
+male infants: the supernatural character of Judaic scripture: the
+ineffability of the tetragrammaton: the sanctity of the sabbath.
+
+
+How did these beliefs and practices now appear to him?
+
+Not more rational than they had then appeared, not less rational than
+other beliefs and practices now appeared.
+
+
+What first reminiscence had he of Rudolph Bloom (deceased)?
+
+Rudolph Bloom (deceased) narrated to his son Leopold Bloom (aged 6) a
+retrospective arrangement of migrations and settlements in and between
+Dublin, London, Florence, Milan, Vienna, Budapest, Szombathely with
+statements of satisfaction (his grandfather having seen Maria Theresia,
+empress of Austria, queen of Hungary), with commercial advice (having
+taken care of pence, the pounds having taken care of themselves).
+Leopold Bloom (aged 6) had accompanied these narrations by constant
+consultation of a geographical map of Europe (political) and by
+suggestions for the establishment of affiliated business premises in the
+various centres mentioned.
+
+
+Had time equally but differently obliterated the memory of these
+migrations in narrator and listener?
+
+In narrator by the access of years and in consequence of the use of
+narcotic toxin: in listener by the access of years and in consequence of
+the action of distraction upon vicarious experiences.
+
+
+What idiosyncracies of the narrator were concomitant products of
+amnesia?
+
+Occasionally he ate without having previously removed his hat.
+Occasionally he drank voraciously the juice of gooseberry fool from an
+inclined plate. Occasionally he removed from his lips the traces of food
+by means of a lacerated envelope or other accessible fragment of paper.
+
+
+What two phenomena of senescence were more frequent?
+
+The myopic digital calculation of coins, eructation consequent upon
+repletion.
+
+
+What object offered partial consolation for these reminiscences?
+
+The endowment policy, the bank passbook, the certificate of the
+possession of scrip.
+
+
+Reduce Bloom by cross multiplication of reverses of fortune, from which
+these supports protected him, and by elimination of all positive values
+to a negligible negative irrational unreal quantity.
+
+Successively, in descending helotic order: Poverty: that of the outdoor
+hawker of imitation jewellery, the dun for the recovery of bad and
+doubtful debts, the poor rate and deputy cess collector. Mendicancy:
+that of the fraudulent bankrupt with negligible assets paying 1s. 4d.
+in the pound, sandwichman, distributor of throwaways, nocturnal vagrant,
+insinuating sycophant, maimed sailor, blind stripling, superannuated
+bailiffs man, marfeast, lickplate, spoilsport, pickthank, eccentric
+public laughingstock seated on bench of public park under discarded
+perforated umbrella. Destitution: the inmate of Old Man's House (Royal
+Hospital) Kilmainham, the inmate of Simpson's Hospital for reduced but
+respectable men permanently disabled by gout or want of sight. Nadir of
+misery: the aged impotent disfranchised ratesupported moribund lunatic
+pauper.
+
+
+With which attendant indignities?
+
+The unsympathetic indifference of previously amiable females, the
+contempt of muscular males, the acceptance of fragments of bread,
+the simulated ignorance of casual acquaintances, the latration of
+illegitimate unlicensed vagabond dogs, the infantile discharge of
+decomposed vegetable missiles, worth little or nothing, nothing or less
+than nothing.
+
+
+By what could such a situation be precluded?
+
+By decease (change of state): by departure (change of place).
+
+
+Which preferably?
+
+The latter, by the line of least resistance.
+
+
+What considerations rendered departure not entirely undesirable?
+
+Constant cohabitation impeding mutual toleration of personal defects.
+The habit of independent purchase increasingly cultivated. The necessity
+to counteract by impermanent sojourn the permanence of arrest.
+
+
+What considerations rendered departure not irrational?
+
+The parties concerned, uniting, had increased and multiplied, which
+being done, offspring produced and educed to maturity, the parties, if
+not disunited were obliged to reunite for increase and multiplication,
+which was absurd, to form by reunion the original couple of uniting
+parties, which was impossible.
+
+
+What considerations rendered departure desirable?
+
+The attractive character of certain localities in Ireland and abroad,
+as represented in general geographical maps of polychrome design or
+in special ordnance survey charts by employment of scale numerals and
+hachures.
+
+
+In Ireland?
+
+The cliffs of Moher, the windy wilds of Connemara, lough Neagh with
+submerged petrified city, the Giant's Causeway, Fort Camden and Fort
+Carlisle, the Golden Vale of Tipperary, the islands of Aran, the
+pastures of royal Meath, Brigid's elm in Kildare, the Queen's Island
+shipyard in Belfast, the Salmon Leap, the lakes of Killarney.
+
+
+Abroad?
+
+Ceylon (with spicegardens supplying tea to Thomas Kernan, agent for
+Pulbrook, Robertson and Co, 2 Mincing Lane, London, E. C., 5 Dame
+street, Dublin), Jerusalem, the holy city (with mosque of Omar and gate
+of Damascus, goal of aspiration), the straits of Gibraltar (the unique
+birthplace of Marion Tweedy), the Parthenon (containing statues of nude
+Grecian divinities), the Wall street money market (which controlled
+international finance), the Plaza de Toros at La Linea, Spain (where
+O'Hara of the Camerons had slain the bull), Niagara (over which no human
+being had passed with impunity), the land of the Eskimos (eaters
+of soap), the forbidden country of Thibet (from which no traveller
+returns), the bay of Naples (to see which was to die), the Dead Sea.
+
+
+Under what guidance, following what signs?
+
+At sea, septentrional, by night the polestar, located at the point of
+intersection of the right line from beta to alpha in Ursa Maior produced
+and divided externally at omega and the hypotenuse of the rightangled
+triangle formed by the line alpha omega so produced and the line alpha
+delta of Ursa Maior. On land, meridional, a bispherical moon, revealed
+in imperfect varying phases of lunation through the posterior interstice
+of the imperfectly occluded skirt of a carnose negligent perambulating
+female, a pillar of the cloud by day.
+
+
+What public advertisement would divulge the occultation of the departed?
+
+5 pounds reward, lost, stolen or strayed from his residence 7 Eccles
+street, missing gent about 40, answering to the name of Bloom, Leopold
+(Poldy), height 5 ft 9 1/2 inches, full build, olive complexion, may
+have since grown a beard, when last seen was wearing a black suit. Above
+sum will be paid for information leading to his discovery.
+
+
+What universal binomial denominations would be his as entity and
+nonentity?
+
+Assumed by any or known to none. Everyman or Noman.
+
+
+What tributes his?
+
+Honour and gifts of strangers, the friends of Everyman. A nymph
+immortal, beauty, the bride of Noman.
+
+
+Would the departed never nowhere nohow reappear?
+
+Ever he would wander, selfcompelled, to the extreme limit of his
+cometary orbit, beyond the fixed stars and variable suns and telescopic
+planets, astronomical waifs and strays, to the extreme boundary of
+space, passing from land to land, among peoples, amid events. Somewhere
+imperceptibly he would hear and somehow reluctantly, suncompelled, obey
+the summons of recall. Whence, disappearing from the constellation of
+the Northern Crown he would somehow reappear reborn above delta in the
+constellation of Cassiopeia and after incalculable eons of peregrination
+return an estranged avenger, a wreaker of justice on malefactors, a dark
+crusader, a sleeper awakened, with financial resources (by supposition)
+surpassing those of Rothschild or the silver king.
+
+
+What would render such return irrational?
+
+An unsatisfactory equation between an exodus and return in time through
+reversible space and an exodus and return in space through irreversible
+time.
+
+
+What play of forces, inducing inertia, rendered departure undesirable?
+
+The lateness of the hour, rendering procrastinatory: the obscurity
+of the night, rendering invisible: the uncertainty of thoroughfares,
+rendering perilous: the necessity for repose, obviating movement: the
+proximity of an occupied bed, obviating research: the anticipation of
+warmth (human) tempered with coolness (linen), obviating desire and
+rendering desirable: the statue of Narcissus, sound without echo,
+desired desire.
+
+
+What advantages were possessed by an occupied, as distinct from an
+unoccupied bed?
+
+The removal of nocturnal solitude, the superior quality of human
+(mature female) to inhuman (hotwaterjar) calefaction, the stimulation of
+matutinal contact, the economy of mangling done on the premises in the
+case of trousers accurately folded and placed lengthwise between the
+spring mattress (striped) and the woollen mattress (biscuit section).
+
+
+What past consecutive causes, before rising preapprehended, of
+accumulated fatigue did Bloom, before rising, silently recapitulate?
+
+The preparation of breakfast (burnt offering): intestinal congestion and
+premeditative defecation (holy of holies): the bath (rite of John): the
+funeral (rite of Samuel): the advertisement of Alexander Keyes (Urim and
+Thummim): the unsubstantial lunch (rite of Melchisedek): the visit to
+museum and national library (holy place): the bookhunt along Bedford
+row, Merchants' Arch, Wellington Quay (Simchath Torah): the music in the
+Ormond Hotel (Shira Shirim): the altercation with a truculent troglodyte
+in Bernard Kiernan's premises (holocaust): a blank period of time
+including a cardrive, a visit to a house of mourning, a leavetaking
+(wilderness): the eroticism produced by feminine exhibitionism (rite of
+Onan): the prolonged delivery of Mrs Mina Purefoy (heave offering):
+the visit to the disorderly house of Mrs Bella Cohen, 82 Tyrone
+street, lower and subsequent brawl and chance medley in Beaver street
+(Armageddon)--nocturnal perambulation to and from the cabman's shelter,
+Butt Bridge (atonement).
+
+
+What selfimposed enigma did Bloom about to rise in order to go so as to
+conclude lest he should not conclude involuntarily apprehend?
+
+The cause of a brief sharp unforeseen heard loud lone crack emitted by
+the insentient material of a strainveined timber table.
+
+
+What selfinvolved enigma did Bloom risen, going, gathering multicoloured
+multiform multitudinous garments, voluntarily apprehending, not
+comprehend?
+
+Who was M'Intosh?
+
+
+What selfevident enigma pondered with desultory constancy during 30
+years did Bloom now, having effected natural obscurity by the extinction
+of artificial light, silently suddenly comprehend?
+
+Where was Moses when the candle went out?
+
+
+What imperfections in a perfect day did Bloom, walking, charged with
+collected articles of recently disvested male wearing apparel, silently,
+successively, enumerate?
+
+A provisional failure to obtain renewal of an advertisement: to obtain
+a certain quantity of tea from Thomas Kernan (agent for Pulbrook,
+Robertson and Co, 5 Dame Street, Dublin, and 2 Mincing Lane, London E.
+C.): to certify the presence or absence of posterior rectal orifice in
+the case of Hellenic female divinities: to obtain admission (gratuitous
+or paid) to the performance of Leah by Mrs Bandmann Palmer at the Gaiety
+Theatre, 46, 47, 48, 49 South King street.
+
+
+What impression of an absent face did Bloom, arrested, silently recall?
+
+The face of her father, the late Major Brian Cooper Tweedy, Royal Dublin
+Fusiliers, of Gibraltar and Rehoboth, Dolphin's Barn.
+
+
+What recurrent impressions of the same were possible by hypothesis?
+
+Retreating, at the terminus of the Great Northern Railway, Amiens
+street, with constant uniform acceleration, along parallel lines
+meeting at infinity, if produced: along parallel lines, reproduced from
+infinity, with constant uniform retardation, at the terminus of the
+Great Northern Railway, Amiens street, returning.
+
+
+What miscellaneous effects of female personal wearing apparel were
+perceived by him?
+
+A pair of new inodorous halfsilk black ladies' hose, a pair of new
+violet garters, a pair of outsize ladies' drawers of India mull, cut on
+generous lines, redolent of opoponax, jessamine and Muratti's Turkish
+cigarettes and containing a long bright steel safety pin, folded
+curvilinear, a camisole of batiste with thin lace border, an accordion
+underskirt of blue silk moirette, all these objects being disposed
+irregularly on the top of a rectangular trunk, quadruple battened,
+having capped corners, with multicoloured labels, initialled on its fore
+side in white lettering B. C. T. (Brian Cooper Tweedy).
+
+
+What impersonal objects were perceived?
+
+A commode, one leg fractured, totally covered by square cretonne
+cutting, apple design, on which rested a lady's black straw hat.
+Orangekeyed ware, bought of Henry Price, basket, fancy goods, chinaware
+and ironmongery manufacturer, 21, 22, 23 Moore street, disposed
+irregularly on the washstand and floor and consisting of basin, soapdish
+and brushtray (on the washstand, together), pitcher and night article
+(on the floor, separate).
+
+
+Bloom's acts?
+
+He deposited the articles of clothing on a chair, removed his remaining
+articles of clothing, took from beneath the bolster at the head of the
+bed a folded long white nightshirt, inserted his head and arms into the
+proper apertures of the nightshirt, removed a pillow from the head to
+the foot of the bed, prepared the bedlinen accordingly and entered the
+bed.
+
+
+How?
+
+With circumspection, as invariably when entering an abode (his own or
+not his own): with solicitude, the snakespiral springs of the mattress
+being old, the brass quoits and pendent viper radii loose and tremulous
+under stress and strain: prudently, as entering a lair or ambush of
+lust or adders: lightly, the less to disturb: reverently, the bed of
+conception and of birth, of consummation of marriage and of breach of
+marriage, of sleep and of death.
+
+
+What did his limbs, when gradually extended, encounter?
+
+New clean bedlinen, additional odours, the presence of a human form,
+female, hers, the imprint of a human form, male, not his, some crumbs,
+some flakes of potted meat, recooked, which he removed.
+
+
+If he had smiled why would he have smiled?
+
+To reflect that each one who enters imagines himself to be the first to
+enter whereas he is always the last term of a preceding series even if
+the first term of a succeeding one, each imagining himself to be first,
+last, only and alone whereas he is neither first nor last nor only nor
+alone in a series originating in and repeated to infinity.
+
+
+What preceding series?
+
+Assuming Mulvey to be the first term of his series, Penrose, Bartell
+d'Arcy, professor Goodwin, Julius Mastiansky, John Henry Menton, Father
+Bernard Corrigan, a farmer at the Royal Dublin Society's Horse Show,
+Maggot O'Reilly, Matthew Dillon, Valentine Blake Dillon (Lord Mayor
+of Dublin), Christopher Callinan, Lenehan, an Italian organgrinder,
+an unknown gentleman in the Gaiety Theatre, Benjamin Dollard, Simon
+Dedalus, Andrew (Pisser) Burke, Joseph Cuffe, Wisdom Hely, Alderman John
+Hooper, Dr Francis Brady, Father Sebastian of Mount Argus, a bootblack
+at the General Post Office, Hugh E. (Blazes) Boylan and so each and so
+on to no last term.
+
+
+What were his reflections concerning the last member of this series and
+late occupant of the bed?
+
+Reflections on his vigour (a bounder), corporal proportion (a
+billsticker), commercial ability (a bester), impressionability (a
+boaster).
+
+
+Why for the observer impressionability in addition to vigour, corporal
+proportion and commercial ability?
+
+Because he had observed with augmenting frequency in the preceding
+members of the same series the same concupiscence, inflammably
+transmitted, first with alarm, then with understanding, then with
+desire, finally with fatigue, with alternating symptoms of epicene
+comprehension and apprehension.
+
+
+With what antagonistic sentiments were his subsequent reflections
+affected?
+
+Envy, jealousy, abnegation, equanimity.
+
+
+Envy?
+
+Of a bodily and mental male organism specially adapted for the
+superincumbent posture of energetic human copulation and energetic
+piston and cylinder movement necessary for the complete satisfaction of
+a constant but not acute concupiscence resident in a bodily and mental
+female organism, passive but not obtuse.
+
+
+Jealousy?
+
+Because a nature full and volatile in its free state, was alternately
+the agent and reagent of attraction. Because attraction between agent(s)
+and reagent(s) at all instants varied, with inverse proportion of
+increase and decrease, with incessant circular extension and radial
+reentrance. Because the controlled contemplation of the fluctuation of
+attraction produced, if desired, a fluctuation of pleasure.
+
+
+Abnegation?
+
+In virtue of a) acquaintance initiated in September 1903 in the
+establishment of George Mesias, merchant tailor and outfitter, 5 Eden
+Quay, b) hospitality extended and received in kind, reciprocated and
+reappropriated in person, c) comparative youth subject to impulses of
+ambition and magnanimity, colleagual altruism and amorous egoism, d)
+extraracial attraction, intraracial inhibition, supraracial prerogative,
+e) an imminent provincial musical tour, common current expenses, net
+proceeds divided.
+
+
+Equanimity?
+
+As as natural as any and every natural act of a nature expressed or
+understood executed in natured nature by natural creatures in accordance
+with his, her and their natured natures, of dissimilar similarity.
+As not so calamitous as a cataclysmic annihilation of the planet in
+consequence of a collision with a dark sun. As less reprehensible than
+theft, highway robbery, cruelty to children and animals, obtaining money
+under false pretences, forgery, embezzlement, misappropriation of public
+money, betrayal of public trust, malingering, mayhem, corruption of
+minors, criminal libel, blackmail, contempt of court, arson, treason,
+felony, mutiny on the high seas, trespass, burglary, jailbreaking,
+practice of unnatural vice, desertion from armed forces in the field,
+perjury, poaching, usury, intelligence with the king's enemies,
+impersonation, criminal assault, manslaughter, wilful and premeditated
+murder. As not more abnormal than all other parallel processes of
+adaptation to altered conditions of existence, resulting in a reciprocal
+equilibrium between the bodily organism and its attendant circumstances,
+foods, beverages, acquired habits, indulged inclinations, significant
+disease. As more than inevitable, irreparable.
+
+
+Why more abnegation than jealousy, less envy than equanimity?
+
+From outrage (matrimony) to outrage (adultery) there arose nought but
+outrage (copulation) yet the matrimonial violator of the matrimonially
+violated had not been outraged by the adulterous violator of the
+adulterously violated.
+
+
+What retribution, if any?
+
+Assassination, never, as two wrongs did not make one right. Duel by
+combat, no. Divorce, not now. Exposure by mechanical artifice (automatic
+bed) or individual testimony (concealed ocular witnesses), not yet. Suit
+for damages by legal influence or simulation of assault with evidence of
+injuries sustained (selfinflicted), not impossibly. Hushmoney by moral
+influence possibly. If any, positively, connivance, introduction of
+emulation (material, a prosperous rival agency of publicity: moral,
+a successful rival agent of intimacy), depreciation, alienation,
+humiliation, separation protecting the one separated from the other,
+protecting the separator from both.
+
+
+By what reflections did he, a conscious reactor against the void of
+incertitude, justify to himself his sentiments?
+
+The preordained frangibility of the hymen: the presupposed intangibility
+of the thing in itself: the incongruity and disproportion between
+the selfprolonging tension of the thing proposed to be done and the
+selfabbreviating relaxation of the thing done; the fallaciously inferred
+debility of the female: the muscularity of the male: the variations of
+ethical codes: the natural grammatical transition by inversion involving
+no alteration of sense of an aorist preterite proposition (parsed as
+masculine subject, monosyllabic onomatopoeic transitive verb with direct
+feminine object) from the active voice into its correlative aorist
+preterite proposition (parsed as feminine subject, auxiliary verb
+and quasimonosyllabic onomatopoeic past participle with complementary
+masculine agent) in the passive voice: the continued product of
+seminators by generation: the continual production of semen by
+distillation: the futility of triumph or protest or vindication: the
+inanity of extolled virtue: the lethargy of nescient matter: the apathy
+of the stars.
+
+
+In what final satisfaction did these antagonistic sentiments and
+reflections, reduced to their simplest forms, converge?
+
+Satisfaction at the ubiquity in eastern and western terrestrial
+hemispheres, in all habitable lands and islands explored or unexplored
+(the land of the midnight sun, the islands of the blessed, the isles of
+Greece, the land of promise), of adipose anterior and posterior female
+hemispheres, redolent of milk and honey and of excretory sanguine and
+seminal warmth, reminiscent of secular families of curves of amplitude,
+insusceptible of moods of impression or of contrarieties of expression,
+expressive of mute immutable mature animality.
+
+
+The visible signs of antesatisfaction?
+
+An approximate erection: a solicitous adversion: a gradual elevation: a
+tentative revelation: a silent contemplation.
+
+
+Then?
+
+He kissed the plump mellow yellow smellow melons of her rump, on each
+plump melonous hemisphere, in their mellow yellow furrow, with obscure
+prolonged provocative melonsmellonous osculation.
+
+
+The visible signs of postsatisfaction?
+
+A silent contemplation: a tentative velation: a gradual abasement: a
+solicitous aversion: a proximate erection.
+
+
+What followed this silent action?
+
+Somnolent invocation, less somnolent recognition, incipient excitation,
+catechetical interrogation.
+
+
+With what modifications did the narrator reply to this interrogation?
+
+Negative: he omitted to mention the clandestine correspondence between
+Martha Clifford and Henry Flower, the public altercation at, in and
+in the vicinity of the licensed premises of Bernard Kiernan and Co,
+Limited, 8, 9 and 10 Little Britain street, the erotic provocation
+and response thereto caused by the exhibitionism of Gertrude (Gerty),
+surname unknown. Positive: he included mention of a performance by Mrs
+Bandmann Palmer of LEAH at the Gaiety Theatre, 46, 47, 48, 49 South King
+street, an invitation to supper at Wynn's (Murphy's) Hotel, 35, 36 and
+37 Lower Abbey street, a volume of peccaminous pornographical tendency
+entituled SWEETS OF SIN, anonymous author a gentleman of fashion, a
+temporary concussion caused by a falsely calculated movement in the
+course of a postcenal gymnastic display, the victim (since completely
+recovered) being Stephen Dedalus, professor and author, eldest surviving
+son of Simon Dedalus, of no fixed occupation, an aeronautical feat
+executed by him (narrator) in the presence of a witness, the professor
+and author aforesaid, with promptitude of decision and gymnastic
+flexibility.
+
+
+Was the narration otherwise unaltered by modifications?
+
+Absolutely.
+
+
+Which event or person emerged as the salient point of his narration?
+
+Stephen Dedalus, professor and author.
+
+
+What limitations of activity and inhibitions of conjugal rights were
+perceived by listener and narrator concerning themselves during the
+course of this intermittent and increasingly more laconic narration?
+
+By the listener a limitation of fertility inasmuch as marriage had been
+celebrated 1 calendar month after the 18th anniversary of her birth (8
+September 1870), viz. 8 October, and consummated on the same date with
+female issue born 15 June 1889, having been anticipatorily consummated
+on the lo September of the same year and complete carnal intercourse,
+with ejaculation of semen within the natural female organ, having last
+taken place 5 weeks previous, viz. 27 November 1893, to the birth on 29
+December 1893 of second (and only male) issue, deceased 9 January 1894,
+aged 11 days, there remained a period of 10 years, 5 months and 18 days
+during which carnal intercourse had been incomplete, without ejaculation
+of semen within the natural female organ. By the narrator a limitation
+of activity, mental and corporal, inasmuch as complete mental
+intercourse between himself and the listener had not taken place since
+the consummation of puberty, indicated by catamenic hemorrhage, of the
+female issue of narrator and listener, 15 September 1903, there remained
+a period of 9 months and 1 day during which, in consequence of a
+preestablished natural comprehension in incomprehension between the
+consummated females (listener and issue), complete corporal liberty of
+action had been circumscribed.
+
+
+How?
+
+By various reiterated feminine interrogation concerning the masculine
+destination whither, the place where, the time at which, the duration
+for which, the object with which in the case of temporary absences,
+projected or effected.
+
+
+What moved visibly above the listener's and the narrator's invisible
+thoughts?
+
+The upcast reflection of a lamp and shade, an inconstant series of
+concentric circles of varying gradations of light and shadow.
+
+
+In what directions did listener and narrator lie?
+
+Listener, S. E. by E.: Narrator, N. W. by W.: on the 53rd parallel
+of latitude, N., and 6th meridian of longitude, W.: at an angle of 45
+degrees to the terrestrial equator.
+
+
+In what state of rest or motion?
+
+At rest relatively to themselves and to each other. In motion being each
+and both carried westward, forward and rereward respectively, by the
+proper perpetual motion of the earth through everchanging tracks of
+neverchanging space.
+
+
+In what posture?
+
+Listener: reclined semilaterally, left, left hand under head, right
+leg extended in a straight line and resting on left leg, flexed, in the
+attitude of Gea-Tellus, fulfilled, recumbent, big with seed. Narrator:
+reclined laterally, left, with right and left legs flexed, the index
+finger and thumb of the right hand resting on the bridge of the nose, in
+the attitude depicted in a snapshot photograph made by Percy Apjohn, the
+childman weary, the manchild in the womb.
+
+
+Womb? Weary?
+
+He rests. He has travelled.
+
+
+With?
+
+Sinbad the Sailor and Tinbad the Tailor and Jinbad the Jailer and
+Whinbad the Whaler and Ninbad the Nailer and Finbad the Failer and
+Binbad the Bailer and Pinbad the Pailer and Minbad the Mailer and Hinbad
+the Hailer and Rinbad the Railer and Dinbad the Kailer and Vinbad the
+Quailer and Linbad the Yailer and Xinbad the Phthailer.
+
+
+When?
+
+Going to dark bed there was a square round Sinbad the Sailor roc's auk's
+egg in the night of the bed of all the auks of the rocs of Darkinbad the
+Brightdayler.
+
+
+Where?
+
+
+
+Yes because he never did a thing like that before as ask to get his
+breakfast in bed with a couple of eggs since the _City Arms_ hotel
+when he used to be pretending to be laid up with a sick voice doing his
+highness to make himself interesting for that old faggot Mrs Riordan
+that he thought he had a great leg of and she never left us a farthing
+all for masses for herself and her soul greatest miser ever was actually
+afraid to lay out 4d for her methylated spirit telling me all her
+ailments she had too much old chat in her about politics and earthquakes
+and the end of the world let us have a bit of fun first God help the
+world if all the women were her sort down on bathingsuits and lownecks
+of course nobody wanted her to wear them I suppose she was pious because
+no man would look at her twice I hope Ill never be like her a wonder
+she didnt want us to cover our faces but she was a welleducated woman
+certainly and her gabby talk about Mr Riordan here and Mr Riordan there
+I suppose he was glad to get shut of her and her dog smelling my fur and
+always edging to get up under my petticoats especially then still I like
+that in him polite to old women like that and waiters and beggars too
+hes not proud out of nothing but not always if ever he got anything
+really serious the matter with him its much better for them to go into
+a hospital where everything is clean but I suppose Id have to dring it
+into him for a month yes and then wed have a hospital nurse next thing
+on the carpet have him staying there till they throw him out or a nun
+maybe like the smutty photo he has shes as much a nun as Im not yes
+because theyre so weak and puling when theyre sick they want a woman
+to get well if his nose bleeds youd think it was O tragic and that
+dyinglooking one off the south circular when he sprained his foot at
+the choir party at the sugarloaf Mountain the day I wore that dress
+Miss Stack bringing him flowers the worst old ones she could find at the
+bottom of the basket anything at all to get into a mans bedroom with
+her old maids voice trying to imagine he was dying on account of her to
+never see thy face again though he looked more like a man with his beard
+a bit grown in the bed father was the same besides I hate bandaging and
+dosing when he cut his toe with the razor paring his corns afraid hed
+get bloodpoisoning but if it was a thing I was sick then wed see what
+attention only of course the woman hides it not to give all the trouble
+they do yes he came somewhere Im sure by his appetite anyway love its
+not or hed be off his feed thinking of her so either it was one of those
+night women if it was down there he was really and the hotel story he
+made up a pack of lies to hide it planning it Hynes kept me who did I
+meet ah yes I met do you remember Menton and who else who let me see
+that big babbyface I saw him and he not long married flirting with a
+young girl at Pooles Myriorama and turned my back on him when he slinked
+out looking quite conscious what harm but he had the impudence to make
+up to me one time well done to him mouth almighty and his boiled eyes of
+all the big stupoes I ever met and thats called a solicitor only for
+I hate having a long wrangle in bed or else if its not that its some
+little bitch or other he got in with somewhere or picked up on the
+sly if they only knew him as well as I do yes because the day before
+yesterday he was scribbling something a letter when I came into the
+front room to show him Dignams death in the paper as if something told
+me and he covered it up with the blottingpaper pretending to be thinking
+about business so very probably that was it to somebody who thinks
+she has a softy in him because all men get a bit like that at his age
+especially getting on to forty he is now so as to wheedle any money she
+can out of him no fool like an old fool and then the usual kissing my
+bottom was to hide it not that I care two straws now who he does it with
+or knew before that way though Id like to find out so long as I dont
+have the two of them under my nose all the time like that slut that Mary
+we had in Ontario terrace padding out her false bottom to excite him bad
+enough to get the smell of those painted women off him once or twice
+I had a suspicion by getting him to come near me when I found the
+long hair on his coat without that one when I went into the kitchen
+pretending he was drinking water 1 woman is not enough for them it was
+all his fault of course ruining servants then proposing that she could
+eat at our table on Christmas day if you please O no thank you not in my
+house stealing my potatoes and the oysters 2/6 per doz going out to see
+her aunt if you please common robbery so it was but I was sure he had
+something on with that one it takes me to find out a thing like that he
+said you have no proof it was her proof O yes her aunt was very fond of
+oysters but I told her what I thought of her suggesting me to go out to
+be alone with her I wouldnt lower myself to spy on them the garters I
+found in her room the Friday she was out that was enough for me a little
+bit too much her face swelled up on her with temper when I gave her her
+weeks notice I saw to that better do without them altogether do out the
+rooms myself quicker only for the damn cooking and throwing out the dirt
+I gave it to him anyhow either she or me leaves the house I couldnt even
+touch him if I thought he was with a dirty barefaced liar and sloven
+like that one denying it up to my face and singing about the place in
+the W C too because she knew she was too well off yes because he couldnt
+possibly do without it that long so he must do it somewhere and the last
+time he came on my bottom when was it the night Boylan gave my hand a
+great squeeze going along by the Tolka in my hand there steals another
+I just pressed the back of his like that with my thumb to squeeze back
+singing the young May moon shes beaming love because he has an idea
+about him and me hes not such a fool he said Im dining out and going to
+the Gaiety though Im not going to give him the satisfaction in any case
+God knows hes a change in a way not to be always and ever wearing the
+same old hat unless I paid some nicelooking boy to do it since I cant do
+it myself a young boy would like me Id confuse him a little alone with
+him if we were Id let him see my garters the new ones and make him turn
+red looking at him seduce him I know what boys feel with that down
+on their cheek doing that frigging drawing out the thing by the hour
+question and answer would you do this that and the other with the
+coalman yes with a bishop yes I would because I told him about some dean
+or bishop was sitting beside me in the jews temples gardens when I was
+knitting that woollen thing a stranger to Dublin what place was it and
+so on about the monuments and he tired me out with statues encouraging
+him making him worse than he is who is in your mind now tell me who are
+you thinking of who is it tell me his name who tell me who the german
+Emperor is it yes imagine Im him think of him can you feel him trying to
+make a whore of me what he never will he ought to give it up now at this
+age of his life simply ruination for any woman and no satisfaction in it
+pretending to like it till he comes and then finish it off myself anyway
+and it makes your lips pale anyhow its done now once and for all with
+all the talk of the world about it people make its only the first time
+after that its just the ordinary do it and think no more about it why
+cant you kiss a man without going and marrying him first you sometimes
+love to wildly when you feel that way so nice all over you you cant help
+yourself I wish some man or other would take me sometime when hes there
+and kiss me in his arms theres nothing like a kiss long and hot down to
+your soul almost paralyses you then I hate that confession when I used
+to go to Father Corrigan he touched me father and what harm if he did
+where and I said on the canal bank like a fool but whereabouts on your
+person my child on the leg behind high up was it yes rather high up was
+it where you sit down yes O Lord couldnt he say bottom right out and
+have done with it what has that got to do with it and did you whatever
+way he put it I forget no father and I always think of the real father
+what did he want to know for when I already confessed it to God he had
+a nice fat hand the palm moist always I wouldnt mind feeling it neither
+would he Id say by the bullneck in his horsecollar I wonder did he know
+me in the box I could see his face he couldnt see mine of course hed
+never turn or let on still his eyes were red when his father died theyre
+lost for a woman of course must be terrible when a man cries let alone
+them Id like to be embraced by one in his vestments and the smell of
+incense off him like the pope besides theres no danger with a priest if
+youre married hes too careful about himself then give something to H
+H the pope for a penance I wonder was he satisfied with me one thing I
+didnt like his slapping me behind going away so familiarly in the hall
+though I laughed Im not a horse or an ass am I I suppose he was thinking
+of his fathers I wonder is he awake thinking of me or dreaming am I in
+it who gave him that flower he said he bought he smelt of some kind of
+drink not whisky or stout or perhaps the sweety kind of paste they stick
+their bills up with some liqueur Id like to sip those richlooking green
+and yellow expensive drinks those stagedoor johnnies drink with the
+opera hats I tasted once with my finger dipped out of that American that
+had the squirrel talking stamps with father he had all he could do to
+keep himself from falling asleep after the last time after we took the
+port and potted meat it had a fine salty taste yes because I felt lovely
+and tired myself and fell asleep as sound as a top the moment I popped
+straight into bed till that thunder woke me up God be merciful to us
+I thought the heavens were coming down about us to punish us when I
+blessed myself and said a Hail Mary like those awful thunderbolts in
+Gibraltar as if the world was coming to an end and then they come and
+tell you theres no God what could you do if it was running and rushing
+about nothing only make an act of contrition the candle I lit that
+evening in Whitefriars street chapel for the month of May see it brought
+its luck though hed scoff if he heard because he never goes to church
+mass or meeting he says your soul you have no soul inside only grey
+matter because he doesnt know what it is to have one yes when I lit the
+lamp because he must have come 3 or 4 times with that tremendous big red
+brute of a thing he has I thought the vein or whatever the dickens they
+call it was going to burst though his nose is not so big after I took
+off all my things with the blinds down after my hours dressing and
+perfuming and combing it like iron or some kind of a thick crowbar
+standing all the time he must have eaten oysters I think a few dozen he
+was in great singing voice no I never in all my life felt anyone had
+one the size of that to make you feel full up he must have eaten a whole
+sheep after whats the idea making us like that with a big hole in the
+middle of us or like a Stallion driving it up into you because thats all
+they want out of you with that determined vicious look in his eye I had
+to halfshut my eyes still he hasnt such a tremendous amount of spunk in
+him when I made him pull out and do it on me considering how big it is
+so much the better in case any of it wasnt washed out properly the last
+time I let him finish it in me nice invention they made for women for
+him to get all the pleasure but if someone gave them a touch of it
+themselves theyd know what I went through with Milly nobody would
+believe cutting her teeth too and Mina Purefoys husband give us a swing
+out of your whiskers filling her up with a child or twins once a year
+as regular as the clock always with a smell of children off her the one
+they called budgers or something like a nigger with a shock of hair on
+it Jesusjack the child is a black the last time I was there a squad of
+them falling over one another and bawling you couldnt hear your ears
+supposed to be healthy not satisfied till they have us swollen out like
+elephants or I dont know what supposing I risked having another not off
+him though still if he was married Im sure hed have a fine strong child
+but I dont know Poldy has more spunk in him yes thatd be awfully jolly
+I suppose it was meeting Josie Powell and the funeral and thinking about
+me and Boylan set him off well he can think what he likes now if thatll
+do him any good I know they were spooning a bit when I came on the scene
+he was dancing and sitting out with her the night of Georgina Simpsons
+housewarming and then he wanted to ram it down my neck it was on account
+of not liking to see her a wallflower that was why we had the standup
+row over politics he began it not me when he said about Our Lord being a
+carpenter at last he made me cry of course a woman is so sensitive about
+everything I was fuming with myself after for giving in only for I knew
+he was gone on me and the first socialist he said He was he annoyed me
+so much I couldnt put him into a temper still he knows a lot of mixedup
+things especially about the body and the inside I often wanted to study
+up that myself what we have inside us in that family physician I could
+always hear his voice talking when the room was crowded and watch him
+after that I pretended I had a coolness on with her over him because he
+used to be a bit on the jealous side whenever he asked who are you going
+to and I said over to Floey and he made me the present of Byron's poems
+and the three pairs of gloves so that finished that I could quite easily
+get him to make it up any time I know how Id even supposing he got in
+with her again and was going out to see her somewhere Id know if he
+refused to eat the onions I know plenty of ways ask him to tuck down the
+collar of my blouse or touch him with my veil and gloves on going out I
+kiss then would send them all spinning however alright well see then let
+him go to her she of course would only be too delighted to pretend shes
+mad in love with him that I wouldnt so much mind Id just go to her and
+ask her do you love him and look her square in the eyes she couldnt fool
+me but he might imagine he was and make a declaration to her with his
+plabbery kind of a manner like he did to me though I had the devils own
+job to get it out of him though I liked him for that it showed he could
+hold in and wasnt to be got for the asking he was on the pop of asking
+me too the night in the kitchen I was rolling the potato cake theres
+something I want to say to you only for I put him off letting on I was
+in a temper with my hands and arms full of pasty flour in any case I let
+out too much the night before talking of dreams so I didnt want to let
+him know more than was good for him she used to be always embracing me
+Josie whenever he was there meaning him of course glauming me over and
+when I said I washed up and down as far as possible asking me and did
+you wash possible the women are always egging on to that putting it on
+thick when hes there they know by his sly eye blinking a bit putting on
+the indifferent when they come out with something the kind he is what
+spoils him I dont wonder in the least because he was very handsome at
+that time trying to look like Lord Byron I said I liked though he
+was too beautiful for a man and he was a little before we got engaged
+afterwards though she didnt like it so much the day I was in fits of
+laughing with the giggles I couldnt stop about all my hairpins falling
+out one after another with the mass of hair I had youre always in great
+humour she said yes because it grigged her because she knew what it
+meant because I used to tell her a good bit of what went on between us
+not all but just enough to make her mouth water but that wasnt my fault
+she didnt darken the door much after we were married I wonder what shes
+got like now after living with that dotty husband of hers she had her
+face beginning to look drawn and run down the last time I saw her she
+must have been just after a row with him because I saw on the moment she
+was edging to draw down a conversation about husbands and talk about him
+to run him down what was it she told me O yes that sometimes he used to
+go to bed with his muddy boots on when the maggot takes him just imagine
+having to get into bed with a thing like that that might murder you
+any moment what a man well its not the one way everyone goes mad Poldy
+anyhow whatever he does always wipes his feet on the mat when he comes
+in wet or shine and always blacks his own boots too and he always takes
+off his hat when he comes up in the street like then and now hes going
+about in his slippers to look for 10000 pounds for a postcard U p up
+O sweetheart May wouldnt a thing like that simply bore you stiff to
+extinction actually too stupid even to take his boots off now what
+could you make of a man like that Id rather die 20 times over than marry
+another of their sex of course hed never find another woman like me to
+put up with him the way I do know me come sleep with me yes and he knows
+that too at the bottom of his heart take that Mrs Maybrick that poisoned
+her husband for what I wonder in love with some other man yes it was
+found out on her wasnt she the downright villain to go and do a thing
+like that of course some men can be dreadfully aggravating drive you mad
+and always the worst word in the world what do they ask us to marry them
+for if were so bad as all that comes to yes because they cant get on
+without us white Arsenic she put in his tea off flypaper wasnt it I
+wonder why they call it that if I asked him hed say its from the Greek
+leave us as wise as we were before she must have been madly in love with
+the other fellow to run the chance of being hanged O she didnt care if
+that was her nature what could she do besides theyre not brutes enough
+to go and hang a woman surely are they
+
+theyre all so different Boylan talking about the shape of my foot he
+noticed at once even before he was introduced when I was in the D B C
+with Poldy laughing and trying to listen I was waggling my foot we both
+ordered 2 teas and plain bread and butter I saw him looking with his
+two old maids of sisters when I stood up and asked the girl where it was
+what do I care with it dropping out of me and that black closed breeches
+he made me buy takes you half an hour to let them down wetting all
+myself always with some brandnew fad every other week such a long one I
+did I forgot my suede gloves on the seat behind that I never got after
+some robber of a woman and he wanted me to put it in the Irish times
+lost in the ladies lavatory D B C Dame street finder return to Mrs
+Marion Bloom and I saw his eyes on my feet going out through the turning
+door he was looking when I looked back and I went there for tea 2 days
+after in the hope but he wasnt now how did that excite him because I was
+crossing them when we were in the other room first he meant the shoes
+that are too tight to walk in my hand is nice like that if I only had a
+ring with the stone for my month a nice aquamarine Ill stick him for one
+and a gold bracelet I dont like my foot so much still I made him spend
+once with my foot the night after Goodwins botchup of a concert so cold
+and windy it was well we had that rum in the house to mull and the fire
+wasnt black out when he asked to take off my stockings lying on the
+hearthrug in Lombard street west and another time it was my muddy boots
+hed like me to walk in all the horses dung I could find but of course
+hes not natural like the rest of the world that I what did he say I
+could give 9 points in 10 to Katty Lanner and beat her what does that
+mean I asked him I forget what he said because the stoppress edition
+just passed and the man with the curly hair in the Lucan dairy thats so
+polite I think I saw his face before somewhere I noticed him when I was
+tasting the butter so I took my time Bartell dArcy too that he used to
+make fun of when he commenced kissing me on the choir stairs after I
+sang Gounods _Ave Maria_ what are we waiting for O my heart kiss me
+straight on the brow and part which is my brown part he was pretty hot
+for all his tinny voice too my low notes he was always raving about if
+you can believe him I liked the way he used his mouth singing then he
+said wasnt it terrible to do that there in a place like that I dont see
+anything so terrible about it Ill tell him about that some day not now
+and surprise him ay and Ill take him there and show him the very place
+too we did it so now there you are like it or lump it he thinks nothing
+can happen without him knowing he hadnt an idea about my mother till we
+were engaged otherwise hed never have got me so cheap as he did he was
+lo times worse himself anyhow begging me to give him a tiny bit cut off
+my drawers that was the evening coming along Kenilworth square he kissed
+me in the eye of my glove and I had to take it off asking me questions
+is it permitted to enquire the shape of my bedroom so I let him keep it
+as if I forgot it to think of me when I saw him slip it into his pocket
+of course hes mad on the subject of drawers thats plain to be seen
+always skeezing at those brazenfaced things on the bicycles with their
+skirts blowing up to their navels even when Milly and I were out with
+him at the open air fete that one in the cream muslin standing right
+against the sun so he could see every atom she had on when he saw me
+from behind following in the rain I saw him before he saw me however
+standing at the corner of the Harolds cross road with a new raincoat on
+him with the muffler in the Zingari colours to show off his complexion
+and the brown hat looking slyboots as usual what was he doing there
+where hed no business they can go and get whatever they like from
+anything at all with a skirt on it and were not to ask any questions but
+they want to know where were you where are you going I could feel him
+coming along skulking after me his eyes on my neck he had been keeping
+away from the house he felt it was getting too warm for him so I
+halfturned and stopped then he pestered me to say yes till I took off my
+glove slowly watching him he said my openwork sleeves were too cold for
+the rain anything for an excuse to put his hand anear me drawers drawers
+the whole blessed time till I promised to give him the pair off my doll
+to carry about in his waistcoat pocket _O Maria Santisima_ he did look
+a big fool dreeping in the rain splendid set of teeth he had made me
+hungry to look at them and beseeched of me to lift the orange petticoat
+I had on with the sunray pleats that there was nobody he said hed kneel
+down in the wet if I didnt so persevering he would too and ruin his new
+raincoat you never know what freak theyd take alone with you theyre so
+savage for it if anyone was passing so I lifted them a bit and touched
+his trousers outside the way I used to Gardner after with my ring hand
+to keep him from doing worse where it was too public I was dying to find
+out was he circumcised he was shaking like a jelly all over they want
+to do everything too quick take all the pleasure out of it and father
+waiting all the time for his dinner he told me to say I left my purse in
+the butchers and had to go back for it what a Deceiver then he wrote me
+that letter with all those words in it how could he have the face to any
+woman after his company manners making it so awkward after when we met
+asking me have I offended you with my eyelids down of course he saw I
+wasnt he had a few brains not like that other fool Henny Doyle he was
+always breaking or tearing something in the charades I hate an unlucky
+man and if I knew what it meant of course I had to say no for form sake
+dont understand you I said and wasnt it natural so it is of course
+it used to be written up with a picture of a womans on that wall in
+Gibraltar with that word I couldnt find anywhere only for children
+seeing it too young then writing every morning a letter sometimes twice
+a day I liked the way he made love then he knew the way to take a woman
+when he sent me the 8 big poppies because mine was the 8th then I wrote
+the night he kissed my heart at Dolphins barn I couldnt describe it
+simply it makes you feel like nothing on earth but he never knew how to
+embrace well like Gardner I hope hell come on Monday as he said at the
+same time four I hate people who come at all hours answer the door you
+think its the vegetables then its somebody and you all undressed or
+the door of the filthy sloppy kitchen blows open the day old frostyface
+Goodwin called about the concert in Lombard street and I just after
+dinner all flushed and tossed with boiling old stew dont look at me
+professor I had to say Im a fright yes but he was a real old gent in his
+way it was impossible to be more respectful nobody to say youre out you
+have to peep out through the blind like the messengerboy today I thought
+it was a putoff first him sending the port and the peaches first and I
+was just beginning to yawn with nerves thinking he was trying to make a
+fool of me when I knew his tattarrattat at the door he must have been
+a bit late because it was l/4 after 3 when I saw the 2 Dedalus girls
+coming from school I never know the time even that watch he gave me
+never seems to go properly Id want to get it looked after when I threw
+the penny to that lame sailor for England home and beauty when I was
+whistling there is a charming girl I love and I hadnt even put on my
+clean shift or powdered myself or a thing then this day week were to go
+to Belfast just as well he has to go to Ennis his fathers anniversary
+the 27th it wouldnt be pleasant if he did suppose our rooms at the hotel
+were beside each other and any fooling went on in the new bed I couldnt
+tell him to stop and not bother me with him in the next room or perhaps
+some protestant clergyman with a cough knocking on the wall then hed
+never believe the next day we didnt do something its all very well a
+husband but you cant fool a lover after me telling him we never did
+anything of course he didnt believe me no its better hes going where
+he is besides something always happens with him the time going to the
+Mallow concert at Maryborough ordering boiling soup for the two of
+us then the bell rang out he walks down the platform with the soup
+splashing about taking spoonfuls of it hadnt he the nerve and the waiter
+after him making a holy show of us screeching and confusion for the
+engine to start but he wouldnt pay till he finished it the two gentlemen
+in the 3rd class carriage said he was quite right so he was too hes so
+pigheaded sometimes when he gets a thing into his head a good job he was
+able to open the carriage door with his knife or theyd have taken us on
+to Cork I suppose that was done out of revenge on him O I love jaunting
+in a train or a car with lovely soft cushions I wonder will he take
+a 1st class for me he might want to do it in the train by tipping the
+guard well O I suppose therell be the usual idiots of men gaping at
+us with their eyes as stupid as ever they can possibly be that was an
+exceptional man that common workman that left us alone in the carriage
+that day going to Howth Id like to find out something about him l or 2
+tunnels perhaps then you have to look out of the window all the nicer
+then coming back suppose I never came back what would they say eloped
+with him that gets you on on the stage the last concert I sang at where
+its over a year ago when was it St Teresas hall Clarendon St little
+chits of missies they have now singing Kathleen Kearney and her like
+on account of father being in the army and my singing the absentminded
+beggar and wearing a brooch for Lord Roberts when I had the map of it
+all and Poldy not Irish enough was it him managed it this time I wouldnt
+put it past him like he got me on to sing in the _Stabat Mater_ by going
+around saying he was putting Lead Kindly Light to music I put him up to
+that till the jesuits found out he was a freemason thumping the piano
+lead Thou me on copied from some old opera yes and he was going about
+with some of them Sinner Fein lately or whatever they call themselves
+talking his usual trash and nonsense he says that little man he showed
+me without the neck is very intelligent the coming man Griffiths is he
+well he doesnt look it thats all I can say still it must have been him
+he knew there was a boycott I hate the mention of their politics after
+the war that Pretoria and Ladysmith and Bloemfontein where Gardner lieut
+Stanley G 8th Bn 2nd East Lancs Rgt of enteric fever he was a lovely
+fellow in khaki and just the right height over me Im sure he was brave
+too he said I was lovely the evening we kissed goodbye at the canal lock
+my Irish beauty he was pale with excitement about going away or wed be
+seen from the road he couldnt stand properly and I so hot as I never
+felt they could have made their peace in the beginning or old oom Paul
+and the rest of the other old Krugers go and fight it out between them
+instead of dragging on for years killing any finelooking men there were
+with their fever if he was even decently shot it wouldnt have been so
+bad I love to see a regiment pass in review the first time I saw the
+Spanish cavalry at La Roque it was lovely after looking across the bay
+from Algeciras all the lights of the rock like fireflies or those sham
+battles on the 15 acres the Black Watch with their kilts in time at the
+march past the 10th hussars the prince of Wales own or the lancers O the
+lancers theyre grand or the Dublins that won Tugela his father made his
+money over selling the horses for the cavalry well he could buy me a
+nice present up in Belfast after what I gave him theyve lovely linen up
+there or one of those nice kimono things I must buy a mothball like I
+had before to keep in the drawer with them it would be exciting going
+round with him shopping buying those things in a new city better leave
+this ring behind want to keep turning and turning to get it over the
+knuckle there or they might bell it round the town in their papers or
+tell the police on me but theyd think were married O let them all go and
+smother themselves for the fat lot I care he has plenty of money and hes
+not a marrying man so somebody better get it out of him if I could find
+out whether he likes me I looked a bit washy of course when I looked
+close in the handglass powdering a mirror never gives you the expression
+besides scrooching down on me like that all the time with his big
+hipbones hes heavy too with his hairy chest for this heat always having
+to lie down for them better for him put it into me from behind the way
+Mrs Mastiansky told me her husband made her like the dogs do it and
+stick out her tongue as far as ever she could and he so quiet and mild
+with his tingating cither can you ever be up to men the way it takes
+them lovely stuff in that blue suit he had on and stylish tie and socks
+with the skyblue silk things on them hes certainly well off I know by
+the cut his clothes have and his heavy watch but he was like a perfect
+devil for a few minutes after he came back with the stoppress tearing up
+the tickets and swearing blazes because he lost 20 quid he said he lost
+over that outsider that won and half he put on for me on account of
+Lenehans tip cursing him to the lowest pits that sponger he was making
+free with me after the Glencree dinner coming back that long joult over
+the featherbed mountain after the lord Mayor looking at me with his
+dirty eyes Val Dillon that big heathen I first noticed him at dessert
+when I was cracking the nuts with my teeth I wished I could have picked
+every morsel of that chicken out of my fingers it was so tasty
+and browned and as tender as anything only for I didnt want to eat
+everything on my plate those forks and fishslicers were hallmarked
+silver too I wish I had some I could easily have slipped a couple into
+my muff when I was playing with them then always hanging out of them for
+money in a restaurant for the bit you put down your throat we have to
+be thankful for our mangy cup of tea itself as a great compliment to be
+noticed the way the world is divided in any case if its going to go on I
+want at least two other good chemises for one thing and but I dont know
+what kind of drawers he likes none at all I think didnt he say yes and
+half the girls in Gibraltar never wore them either naked as God made
+them that Andalusian singing her Manola she didnt make much secret of
+what she hadnt yes and the second pair of silkette stockings is laddered
+after one days wear I could have brought them back to Lewers this
+morning and kicked up a row and made that one change them only not to
+upset myself and run the risk of walking into him and ruining the whole
+thing and one of those kidfitting corsets Id want advertised cheap in
+the Gentlewoman with elastic gores on the hips he saved the one I have
+but thats no good what did they say they give a delightful figure line
+11/6 obviating that unsightly broad appearance across the lower back to
+reduce flesh my belly is a bit too big Ill have to knock off the
+stout at dinner or am I getting too fond of it the last they sent from
+ORourkes was as flat as a pancake he makes his money easy Larry they
+call him the old mangy parcel he sent at Xmas a cottage cake and a
+bottle of hogwash he tried to palm off as claret that he couldnt get
+anyone to drink God spare his spit for fear hed die of the drouth or
+I must do a few breathing exercises I wonder is that antifat any good
+might overdo it the thin ones are not so much the fashion now garters
+that much I have the violet pair I wore today thats all he bought me
+out of the cheque he got on the first O no there was the face lotion
+I finished the last of yesterday that made my skin like new I told him
+over and over again get that made up in the same place and dont forget
+it God only knows whether he did after all I said to him 111 know by
+the bottle anyway if not I suppose 111 only have to wash in my piss like
+beeftea or chickensoup with some of that opoponax and violet I thought
+it was beginning to look coarse or old a bit the skin underneath is much
+finer where it peeled off there on my finger after the burn its a pity
+it isnt all like that and the four paltry handkerchiefs about 6/- in all
+sure you cant get on in this world without style all going in food and
+rent when I get it Ill lash it around I tell you in fine style I always
+want to throw a handful of tea into the pot measuring and mincing if
+I buy a pair of old brogues itself do you like those new shoes yes how
+much were they Ive no clothes at all the brown costume and the skirt and
+jacket and the one at the cleaners 3 whats that for any woman cutting
+up this old hat and patching up the other the men wont look at you and
+women try to walk on you because they know youve no man then with all
+the things getting dearer every day for the 4 years more I have of life
+up to 35 no Im what am I at all 111 be 33 in September will I what O
+well look at that Mrs Galbraith shes much older than me I saw her when
+I was out last week her beautys on the wane she was a lovely woman
+magnificent head of hair on her down to her waist tossing it back like
+that like Kitty OShea in Grantham street 1st thing I did every morning
+to look across see her combing it as if she loved it and was full of it
+pity I only got to know her the day before we left and that Mrs Langtry
+the jersey lily the prince of Wales was in love with I suppose hes like
+the first man going the roads only for the name of a king theyre all
+made the one way only a black mans Id like to try a beauty up to what
+was she 45 there was some funny story about the jealous old husband what
+was it at all and an oyster knife he went no he made her wear a kind
+of a tin thing round her and the prince of Wales yes he had the oyster
+knife cant be true a thing like that like some of those books he brings
+me the works of Master Francois Somebody supposed to be a priest about
+a child born out of her ear because her bumgut fell out a nice word for
+any priest to write and her a--e as if any fool wouldnt know what that
+meant I hate that pretending of all things with that old blackguards
+face on him anybody can see its not true and that Ruby and Fair Tyrants
+he brought me that twice I remember when I came to page 5 o the part
+about where she hangs him up out of a hook with a cord flagellate
+sure theres nothing for a woman in that all invention made up about he
+drinking the champagne out of her slipper after the ball was over like
+the infant Jesus in the crib at Inchicore in the Blessed Virgins arms
+sure no woman could have a child that big taken out of her and I thought
+first it came out of her side because how could she go to the chamber
+when she wanted to and she a rich lady of course she felt honoured H R H
+he was in Gibraltar the year I was born I bet he found lilies there too
+where he planted the tree he planted more than that in his time he might
+have planted me too if hed come a bit sooner then I wouldnt be here as
+I am he ought to chuck that Freeman with the paltry few shillings
+he knocks out of it and go into an office or something where hed get
+regular pay or a bank where they could put him up on a throne to count
+the money all the day of course he prefers plottering about the house
+so you cant stir with him any side whats your programme today I wish hed
+even smoke a pipe like father to get the smell of a man or pretending
+to be mooching about for advertisements when he could have been in Mr
+Cuffes still only for what he did then sending me to try and patch it up
+I could have got him promoted there to be the manager he gave me a great
+mirada once or twice first he was as stiff as the mischief really and
+truly Mrs Bloom only I felt rotten simply with the old rubbishy dress
+that I lost the leads out of the tails with no cut in it but theyre
+coming into fashion again I bought it simply to please him I knew it was
+no good by the finish pity I changed my mind of going to Todd and Bums
+as I said and not Lees it was just like the shop itself rummage sale a
+lot of trash I hate those rich shops get on your nerves nothing kills me
+altogether only he thinks he knows a great lot about a womans dress and
+cooking mathering everything he can scour off the shelves into it if
+I went by his advices every blessed hat I put on does that suit me yes
+take that thats alright the one like a weddingcake standing up miles
+off my head he said suited me or the dishcover one coming down on my
+backside on pins and needles about the shopgirl in that place in Grafton
+street I had the misfortune to bring him into and she as insolent as
+ever she could be with her smirk saying Im afraid were giving you too
+much trouble what shes there for but I stared it out of her yes he was
+awfully stiff and no wonder but he changed the second time he looked
+Poldy pigheaded as usual like the soup but I could see him looking very
+hard at my chest when he stood up to open the door for me it was nice of
+him to show me out in any case Im extremely sorry Mrs Bloom believe me
+without making it too marked the first time after him being insulted and
+me being supposed to be his wife I just half smiled I know my chest was
+out that way at the door when he said Im extremely sorry and Im sure you
+were
+
+yes I think he made them a bit firmer sucking them like that so long he
+made me thirsty titties he calls them I had to laugh yes this one anyhow
+stiff the nipple gets for the least thing Ill get him to keep that up
+and Ill take those eggs beaten up with marsala fatten them out for him
+what are all those veins and things curious the way its made 2 the same
+in case of twins theyre supposed to represent beauty placed up there
+like those statues in the museum one of them pretending to hide it with
+her hand are they so beautiful of course compared with what a man looks
+like with his two bags full and his other thing hanging down out of
+him or sticking up at you like a hatrack no wonder they hide it with a
+cabbageleaf that disgusting Cameron highlander behind the meat market or
+that other wretch with the red head behind the tree where the statue
+of the fish used to be when I was passing pretending he was pissing
+standing out for me to see it with his babyclothes up to one side the
+Queens own they were a nice lot its well the Surreys relieved them
+theyre always trying to show it to you every time nearly I passed
+outside the mens greenhouse near the Harcourt street station just to
+try some fellow or other trying to catch my eye as if it was I of the
+7 wonders of the world O and the stink of those rotten places the night
+coming home with Poldy after the Comerfords party oranges and lemonade
+to make you feel nice and watery I went into r of them it was so biting
+cold I couldnt keep it when was that 93 the canal was frozen yes it was
+a few months after a pity a couple of the Camerons werent there to see
+me squatting in the mens place meadero I tried to draw a picture of
+it before I tore it up like a sausage or something I wonder theyre not
+afraid going about of getting a kick or a bang of something there the
+woman is beauty of course thats admitted when he said I could pose for a
+picture naked to some rich fellow in Holles street when he lost the
+job in Helys and I was selling the clothes and strumming in the coffee
+palace would I be like that bath of the nymph with my hair down yes only
+shes younger or Im a little like that dirty bitch in that Spanish photo
+he has nymphs used they go about like that I asked him about her and
+that word met something with hoses in it and he came out with some
+jawbreakers about the incarnation he never can explain a thing simply
+the way a body can understand then he goes and burns the bottom out of
+the pan all for his Kidney this one not so much theres the mark of his
+teeth still where he tried to bite the nipple I had to scream out arent
+they fearful trying to hurt you I had a great breast of milk with Milly
+enough for two what was the reason of that he said I could have got a
+pound a week as a wet nurse all swelled out the morning that delicate
+looking student that stopped in no 28 with the Citrons Penrose nearly
+caught me washing through the window only for I snapped up the towel to
+my face that was his studenting hurt me they used to weaning her till he
+got doctor Brady to give me the belladonna prescription I had to get him
+to suck them they were so hard he said it was sweeter and thicker than
+cows then he wanted to milk me into the tea well hes beyond everything I
+declare somebody ought to put him in the budget if I only could remember
+the I half of the things and write a book out of it the works of Master
+Poldy yes and its so much smoother the skin much an hour he was at them
+Im sure by the clock like some kind of a big infant I had at me they
+want everything in their mouth all the pleasure those men get out of a
+woman I can feel his mouth O Lord I must stretch myself I wished he was
+here or somebody to let myself go with and come again like that I feel
+all fire inside me or if I could dream it when he made me spend the 2nd
+time tickling me behind with his finger I was coming for about 5 minutes
+with my legs round him I had to hug him after O Lord I wanted to shout
+out all sorts of things fuck or shit or anything at all only not to look
+ugly or those lines from the strain who knows the way hed take it you
+want to feel your way with a man theyre not all like him thank God some
+of them want you to be so nice about it I noticed the contrast he does
+it and doesnt talk I gave my eyes that look with my hair a bit loose
+from the tumbling and my tongue between my lips up to him the savage
+brute Thursday Friday one Saturday two Sunday three O Lord I cant wait
+till Monday
+
+frseeeeeeeefronnnng train somewhere whistling the strength those engines
+have in them like big giants and the water rolling all over and out of
+them all sides like the end of Loves old sweeeetsonnnng the poor men
+that have to be out all the night from their wives and families in those
+roasting engines stifling it was today Im glad I burned the half of
+those old Freemans and Photo Bits leaving things like that lying about
+hes getting very careless and threw the rest of them up in the W C 111
+get him to cut them tomorrow for me instead of having them there for
+the next year to get a few pence for them have him asking wheres last
+Januarys paper and all those old overcoats I bundled out of the hall
+making the place hotter than it is that rain was lovely and refreshing
+just after my beauty sleep I thought it was going to get like Gibraltar
+my goodness the heat there before the levanter came on black as night
+and the glare of the rock standing up in it like a big giant compared
+with their 3 Rock mountain they think is so great with the red sentries
+here and there the poplars and they all whitehot and the smell of the
+rainwater in those tanks watching the sun all the time weltering down on
+you faded all that lovely frock fathers friend Mrs Stanhope sent me from
+the B Marche paris what a shame my dearest Doggerina she wrote on it
+she was very nice whats this her other name was just a p c to tell you I
+sent the little present have just had a jolly warm bath and feel a very
+clean dog now enjoyed it wogger she called him wogger wd give anything
+to be back in Gib and hear you sing Waiting and in old Madrid Concone
+is the name of those exercises he bought me one of those new some word
+I couldnt make out shawls amusing things but tear for the least thing
+still there lovely I think dont you will always think of the lovely teas
+we had together scrumptious currant scones and raspberry wafers I adore
+well now dearest Doggerina be sure and write soon kind she left out
+regards to your father also captain Grove with love yrs affly Hester x
+x x x x she didnt look a bit married just like a girl he was years older
+than her wogger he was awfully fond of me when he held down the wire
+with his foot for me to step over at the bullfight at La Linea when
+that matador Gomez was given the bulls ear these clothes we have to wear
+whoever invented them expecting you to walk up Killiney hill then for
+example at that picnic all staysed up you cant do a blessed thing in
+them in a crowd run or jump out of the way thats why I was afraid when
+that other ferocious old Bull began to charge the banderilleros with
+the sashes and the 2 things in their hats and the brutes of men shouting
+bravo toro sure the women were as bad in their nice white mantillas
+ripping all the whole insides out of those poor horses I never heard of
+such a thing in all my life yes he used to break his heart at me taking
+off the dog barking in bell lane poor brute and it sick what became
+of them ever I suppose theyre dead long ago the 2 of them its like all
+through a mist makes you feel so old I made the scones of course I had
+everything all to myself then a girl Hester we used to compare our hair
+mine was thicker than hers she showed me how to settle it at the back
+when I put it up and whats this else how to make a knot on a thread with
+the one hand we were like cousins what age was I then the night of the
+storm I slept in her bed she had her arms round me then we were fighting
+in the morning with the pillow what fun he was watching me whenever he
+got an opportunity at the band on the Alameda esplanade when I was with
+father and captain Grove I looked up at the church first and then at the
+windows then down and our eyes met I felt something go through me like
+all needles my eyes were dancing I remember after when I looked
+at myself in the glass hardly recognised myself the change he was
+attractive to a girl in spite of his being a little bald intelligent
+looking disappointed and gay at the same time he was like Thomas in
+the shadow of Ashlydyat I had a splendid skin from the sun and the
+excitement like a rose I didnt get a wink of sleep it wouldnt have been
+nice on account of her but I could have stopped it in time she gave me
+the Moonstone to read that was the first I read of Wilkie Collins East
+Lynne I read and the shadow of Ashlydyat Mrs Henry Wood Henry Dunbar by
+that other woman I lent him afterwards with Mulveys photo in it so as he
+see I wasnt without and Lord Lytton Eugene Aram Molly bawn she gave me
+by Mrs Hungerford on account of the name I dont like books with a Molly
+in them like that one he brought me about the one from Flanders a whore
+always shoplifting anything she could cloth and stuff and yards of it
+O this blanket is too heavy on me thats better I havent even one decent
+nightdress this thing gets all rolled under me besides him and his
+fooling thats better I used to be weltering then in the heat my shift
+drenched with the sweat stuck in the cheeks of my bottom on the chair
+when I stood up they were so fattish and firm when I got up on the sofa
+cushions to see with my clothes up and the bugs tons of them at night
+and the mosquito nets I couldnt read a line Lord how long ago it seems
+centuries of course they never came back and she didnt put her address
+right on it either she may have noticed her wogger people were always
+going away and we never I remember that day with the waves and the
+boats with their high heads rocking and the smell of ship those Officers
+uniforms on shore leave made me seasick he didnt say anything he was
+very serious I had the high buttoned boots on and my skirt was blowing
+she kissed me six or seven times didnt I cry yes I believe I did or near
+it my lips were taittering when I said goodbye she had a Gorgeous wrap
+of some special kind of blue colour on her for the voyage made very
+peculiarly to one side like and it was extremely pretty it got as dull
+as the devil after they went I was almost planning to run away mad out
+of it somewhere were never easy where we are father or aunt or marriage
+waiting always waiting to guiiiide him toooo me waiting nor speeeed
+his flying feet their damn guns bursting and booming all over the shop
+especially the Queens birthday and throwing everything down in all
+directions if you didnt open the windows when general Ulysses Grant
+whoever he was or did supposed to be some great fellow landed off the
+ship and old Sprague the consul that was there from before the flood
+dressed up poor man and he in mourning for the son then the same old
+bugles for reveille in the morning and drums rolling and the unfortunate
+poor devils of soldiers walking about with messtins smelling the place
+more than the old longbearded jews in their jellibees and levites
+assembly and sound clear and gunfire for the men to cross the lines and
+the warden marching with his keys to lock the gates and the bagpipes and
+only captain Groves and father talking about Rorkes drift and Plevna and
+sir Garnet Wolseley and Gordon at Khartoum lighting their pipes for
+them everytime they went out drunken old devil with his grog on the
+windowsill catch him leaving any of it picking his nose trying to think
+of some other dirty story to tell up in a corner but he never forgot
+himself when I was there sending me out of the room on some blind excuse
+paying his compliments the Bushmills whisky talking of course but hed
+do the same to the next woman that came along I suppose he died of
+galloping drink ages ago the days like years not a letter from a living
+soul except the odd few I posted to myself with bits of paper in them so
+bored sometimes I could fight with my nails listening to that old Arab
+with the one eye and his heass of an instrument singing his heah heah
+aheah all my compriments on your hotchapotch of your heass as bad as now
+with the hands hanging off me looking out of the window if there was a
+nice fellow even in the opposite house that medical in Holles street the
+nurse was after when I put on my gloves and hat at the window to show
+I was going out not a notion what I meant arent they thick never
+understand what you say even youd want to print it up on a big poster
+for them not even if you shake hands twice with the left he didnt
+recognise me either when I half frowned at him outside Westland row
+chapel where does their great intelligence come in Id like to know
+grey matter they have it all in their tail if you ask me those country
+gougers up in the City Arms intelligence they had a damn sight less than
+the bulls and cows they were selling the meat and the coalmans bell that
+noisy bugger trying to swindle me with the wrong bill he took out of his
+hat what a pair of paws and pots and pans and kettles to mend any broken
+bottles for a poor man today and no visitors or post ever except his
+cheques or some advertisement like that wonderworker they sent him
+addressed dear Madam only his letter and the card from Milly this
+morning see she wrote a letter to him who did I get the last letter from
+O Mrs Dwenn now what possessed her to write from Canada after so many
+years to know the recipe I had for pisto madrileno Floey Dillon since
+she wrote to say she was married to a very rich architect if Im to
+believe all I hear with a villa and eight rooms her father was an
+awfully nice man he was near seventy always goodhumoured well now Miss
+Tweedy or Miss Gillespie theres the piannyer that was a solid silver
+coffee service he had too on the mahogany sideboard then dying so far
+away I hate people that have always their poor story to tell everybody
+has their own troubles that poor Nancy Blake died a month ago of acute
+neumonia well I didnt know her so well as all that she was Floeys friend
+more than mine poor Nancy its a bother having to answer he always tells
+me the wrong things and no stops to say like making a speech your sad
+bereavement symphathy I always make that mistake and newphew with 2
+double yous in I hope hell write me a longer letter the next time if its
+a thing he really likes me O thanks be to the great God I got somebody
+to give me what I badly wanted to put some heart up into me youve no
+chances at all in this place like you used long ago I wish somebody
+would write me a loveletter his wasnt much and I told him he could write
+what he liked yours ever Hugh Boylan in old Madrid stuff silly women
+believe love is sighing I am dying still if he wrote it I suppose thered
+be some truth in it true or no it fills up your whole day and life
+always something to think about every moment and see it all round you
+like a new world I could write the answer in bed to let him imagine me
+short just a few words not those long crossed letters Atty Dillon used
+to write to the fellow that was something in the four courts that jilted
+her after out of the ladies letterwriter when I told her to say a few
+simple words he could twist how he liked not acting with precipat precip
+itancy with equal candour the greatest earthly happiness answer to a
+gentlemans proposal affirmatively my goodness theres nothing else its
+all very fine for them but as for being a woman as soon as youre old
+they might as well throw you out in the bottom of the ashpit.
+
+Mulveys was the first when I was in bed that morning and Mrs Rubio
+brought it in with the coffee she stood there standing when I asked her
+to hand me and I pointing at them I couldnt think of the word a hairpin
+to open it with ah horquilla disobliging old thing and it staring her
+in the face with her switch of false hair on her and vain about her
+appearance ugly as she was near 80 or a loo her face a mass of wrinkles
+with all her religion domineering because she never could get over the
+Atlantic fleet coming in half the ships of the world and the Union Jack
+flying with all her carabineros because 4 drunken English sailors took
+all the rock from them and because I didnt run into mass often enough in
+Santa Maria to please her with her shawl up on her except when there was
+a marriage on with all her miracles of the saints and her black blessed
+virgin with the silver dress and the sun dancing 3 times on Easter
+Sunday morning and when the priest was going by with the bell bringing
+the vatican to the dying blessing herself for his Majestad an admirer
+he signed it I near jumped out of my skin I wanted to pick him up when
+I saw him following me along the Calle Real in the shop window then
+he tipped me just in passing but I never thought hed write making an
+appointment I had it inside my petticoat bodice all day reading it up
+in every hole and corner while father was up at the drill instructing to
+find out by the handwriting or the language of stamps singing I remember
+shall I wear a white rose and I wanted to put on the old stupid clock to
+near the time he was the first man kissed me under the Moorish wall my
+sweetheart when a boy it never entered my head what kissing meant till
+he put his tongue in my mouth his mouth was sweetlike young I put my
+knee up to him a few times to learn the way what did I tell him I was
+engaged for for fun to the son of a Spanish nobleman named Don Miguel de
+la Flora and he believed me that I was to be married to him in 3 years
+time theres many a true word spoken in jest there is a flower that
+bloometh a few things I told him true about myself just for him to be
+imagining the Spanish girls he didnt like I suppose one of them wouldnt
+have him I got him excited he crushed all the flowers on my bosom he
+brought me he couldnt count the pesetas and the perragordas till I
+taught him Cappoquin he came from he said on the black water but it was
+too short then the day before he left May yes it was May when the infant
+king of Spain was born Im always like that in the spring Id like a new
+fellow every year up on the tiptop under the rockgun near OHaras tower
+I told him it was struck by lightning and all about the old Barbary apes
+they sent to Clapham without a tail careering all over the show on each
+others back Mrs Rubio said she was a regular old rock scorpion robbing
+the chickens out of Inces farm and throw stones at you if you went anear
+he was looking at me I had that white blouse on open in the front to
+encourage him as much as I could without too openly they were just
+beginning to be plump I said I was tired we lay over the firtree cove
+a wild place I suppose it must be the highest rock in existence the
+galleries and casemates and those frightful rocks and Saint Michaels
+cave with the icicles or whatever they call them hanging down and
+ladders all the mud plotching my boots Im sure thats the way down the
+monkeys go under the sea to Africa when they die the ships out far like
+chips that was the Malta boat passing yes the sea and the sky you could
+do what you liked lie there for ever he caressed them outside they love
+doing that its the roundness there I was leaning over him with my white
+ricestraw hat to take the newness out of it the left side of my face the
+best my blouse open for his last day transparent kind of shirt he had I
+could see his chest pink he wanted to touch mine with his for a moment
+but I wouldnt lee him he was awfully put out first for fear you never
+know consumption or leave me with a child embarazada that old servant
+Ines told me that one drop even if it got into you at all after I tried
+with the Banana but I was afraid it might break and get lost up in me
+somewhere because they once took something down out of a woman that was
+up there for years covered with limesalts theyre all mad to get in there
+where they come out of youd think they could never go far enough up and
+then theyre done with you in a way till the next time yes because theres
+a wonderful feeling there so tender all the time how did we finish it
+off yes O yes I pulled him off into my handkerchief pretending not to
+be excited but I opened my legs I wouldnt let him touch me inside my
+petticoat because I had a skirt opening up the side I tormented the
+life out of him first tickling him I loved rousing that dog in the hotel
+rrrsssstt awokwokawok his eyes shut and a bird flying below us he was
+shy all the same I liked him like that moaning I made him blush a little
+when I got over him that way when I unbuttoned him and took his out and
+drew back the skin it had a kind of eye in it theyre all Buttons men
+down the middle on the wrong side of them Molly darling he called me
+what was his name Jack Joe Harry Mulvey was it yes I think a lieutenant
+he was rather fair he had a laughing kind of a voice so I went round to
+the whatyoucallit everything was whatyoucallit moustache had he he said
+hed come back Lord its just like yesterday to me and if I was married
+hed do it to me and I promised him yes faithfully Id let him block me
+now flying perhaps hes dead or killed or a captain or admiral its nearly
+20 years if I said firtree cove he would if he came up behind me and
+put his hands over my eyes to guess who I might recognise him hes young
+still about 40 perhaps hes married some girl on the black water and is
+quite changed they all do they havent half the character a woman has she
+little knows what I did with her beloved husband before he ever dreamt
+of her in broad daylight too in the sight of the whole world you might
+say they could have put an article about it in the Chronicle I was a bit
+wild after when I blew out the old bag the biscuits were in from Benady
+Bros and exploded it Lord what a bang all the woodcocks and pigeons
+screaming coming back the same way that we went over middle hill round
+by the old guardhouse and the jews burialplace pretending to read out
+the Hebrew on them I wanted to fire his pistol he said he hadnt one he
+didnt know what to make of me with his peak cap on that he always wore
+crooked as often as I settled it straight H M S Calypso swinging my hat
+that old Bishop that spoke off the altar his long preach about womans
+higher functions about girls now riding the bicycle and wearing peak
+caps and the new woman bloomers God send him sense and me more money I
+suppose theyre called after him I never thought that would be my
+name Bloom when I used to write it in print to see how it looked on a
+visiting card or practising for the butcher and oblige M Bloom youre
+looking blooming Josie used to say after I married him well its better
+than Breen or Briggs does brig or those awful names with bottom in them
+Mrs Ramsbottom or some other kind of a bottom Mulvey I wouldnt go mad
+about either or suppose I divorced him Mrs Boylan my mother whoever she
+was might have given me a nicer name the Lord knows after the lovely
+one she had Lunita Laredo the fun we had running along Williss road to
+Europa point twisting in and out all round the other side of Jersey they
+were shaking and dancing about in my blouse like Millys little ones now
+when she runs up the stairs I loved looking down at them I was jumping
+up at the pepper trees and the white poplars pulling the leaves off and
+throwing them at him he went to India he was to write the voyages those
+men have to make to the ends of the world and back its the least they
+might get a squeeze or two at a woman while they can going out to be
+drowned or blown up somewhere I went up Windmill hill to the flats
+that Sunday morning with captain Rubios that was dead spyglass like the
+sentry had he said hed have one or two from on board I wore that frock
+from the B Marche paris and the coral necklace the straits shining I
+could see over to Morocco almost the bay of Tangier white and the Atlas
+mountain with snow on it and the straits like a river so clear Harry
+Molly darling I was thinking of him on the sea all the time after at
+mass when my petticoat began to slip down at the elevation weeks and
+weeks I kept the handkerchief under my pillow for the smell of him there
+was no decent perfume to be got in that Gibraltar only that cheap peau
+dEspagne that faded and left a stink on you more than anything else I
+wanted to give him a memento he gave me that clumsy Claddagh ring for
+luck that I gave Gardner going to south Africa where those Boers killed
+him with their war and fever but they were well beaten all the same as
+if it brought its bad luck with it like an opal or pearl still it must
+have been pure 18 carrot gold because it was very heavy but what could
+you get in a place like that the sandfrog shower from Africa and that
+derelict ship that came up to the harbour Marie the Marie whatyoucallit
+no he hadnt a moustache that was Gardner yes I can see his face
+cleanshaven Frseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeefrong that train again weeping tone
+once in the dear deaead days beyondre call close my eyes breath my lips
+forward kiss sad look eyes open piano ere oer the world the mists began
+I hate that istsbeg comes loves sweet sooooooooooong Ill let that out
+full when I get in front of the footlights again Kathleen Kearney
+and her lot of squealers Miss This Miss That Miss Theother lot of
+sparrowfarts skitting around talking about politics they know as much
+about as my backside anything in the world to make themselves someway
+interesting Irish homemade beauties soldiers daughter am I ay and whose
+are you bootmakers and publicans I beg your pardon coach I thought you
+were a wheelbarrow theyd die down dead off their feet if ever they got
+a chance of walking down the Alameda on an officers arm like me on the
+bandnight my eyes flash my bust that they havent passion God help their
+poor head I knew more about men and life when I was I S than theyll all
+know at 50 they dont know how to sing a song like that Gardner said no
+man could look at my mouth and teeth smiling like that and not think of
+it I was afraid he mightnt like my accent first he so English all father
+left me in spite of his stamps Ive my mothers eyes and figure anyhow
+he always said theyre so snotty about themselves some of those cads he
+wasnt a bit like that he was dead gone on my lips let them get a husband
+first thats fit to be looked at and a daughter like mine or see if they
+can excite a swell with money that can pick and choose whoever he wants
+like Boylan to do it 4 or 5 times locked in each others arms or the
+voice either I could have been a prima donna only I married him comes
+looooves old deep down chin back not too much make it double My Ladys
+Bower is too long for an encore about the moated grange at twilight and
+vaunted rooms yes Ill sing Winds that blow from the south that he gave
+after the choirstairs performance Ill change that lace on my black dress
+to show off my bubs and Ill yes by God Ill get that big fan mended make
+them burst with envy my hole is itching me always when I think of him I
+feel I want to I feel some wind in me better go easy not wake him have
+him at it again slobbering after washing every bit of myself back belly
+and sides if we had even a bath itself or my own room anyway I wish hed
+sleep in some bed by himself with his cold feet on me give us room even
+to let a fart God or do the least thing better yes hold them like that
+a bit on my side piano quietly sweeeee theres that train far away
+pianissimo eeeee one more song
+
+that was a relief wherever you be let your wind go free who knows if
+that pork chop I took with my cup of tea after was quite good with the
+heat I couldnt smell anything off it Im sure that queerlooking man in
+the porkbutchers is a great rogue I hope that lamp is not smoking fill
+my nose up with smuts better than having him leaving the gas on all
+night I couldnt rest easy in my bed in Gibraltar even getting up to see
+why am I so damned nervous about that though I like it in the winter its
+more company O Lord it was rotten cold too that winter when I was
+only about ten was I yes I had the big doll with all the funny clothes
+dressing her up and undressing that icy wind skeeting across from those
+mountains the something Nevada sierra nevada standing at the fire with
+the little bit of a short shift I had up to heat myself I loved dancing
+about in it then make a race back into bed Im sure that fellow opposite
+used to be there the whole time watching with the lights out in the
+summer and I in my skin hopping around I used to love myself then
+stripped at the washstand dabbing and creaming only when it came to the
+chamber performance I put out the light too so then there were 2 of us
+goodbye to my sleep for this night anyhow I hope hes not going to get in
+with those medicals leading him astray to imagine hes young again coming
+in at 4 in the morning it must be if not more still he had the manners
+not to wake me what do they find to gabber about all night squandering
+money and getting drunker and drunker couldnt they drink water then he
+starts giving us his orders for eggs and tea and Findon haddy and hot
+buttered toast I suppose well have him sitting up like the king of
+the country pumping the wrong end of the spoon up and down in his egg
+wherever he learned that from and I love to hear him falling up the
+stairs of a morning with the cups rattling on the tray and then play
+with the cat she rubs up against you for her own sake I wonder has she
+fleas shes as bad as a woman always licking and lecking but I hate their
+claws I wonder do they see anything that we cant staring like that when
+she sits at the top of the stairs so long and listening as I wait always
+what a robber too that lovely fresh place I bought I think Ill get a bit
+of fish tomorrow or today is it Friday yes I will with some blancmange
+with black currant jam like long ago not those 2 lb pots of mixed plum
+and apple from the London and Newcastle Williams and Woods goes twice as
+far only for the bones I hate those eels cod yes Ill get a nice piece
+of cod Im always getting enough for 3 forgetting anyway Im sick of that
+everlasting butchers meat from Buckleys loin chops and leg beef and rib
+steak and scrag of mutton and calfs pluck the very name is enough or
+a picnic suppose we all gave 5/- each and or let him pay it and invite
+some other woman for him who Mrs Fleming and drove out to the furry glen
+or the strawberry beds wed have him examining all the horses toenails
+first like he does with the letters no not with Boylan there yes with
+some cold veal and ham mixed sandwiches there are little houses down
+at the bottom of the banks there on purpose but its as hot as blazes he
+says not a bank holiday anyhow I hate those ruck of Mary Ann coalboxes
+out for the day Whit Monday is a cursed day too no wonder that bee bit
+him better the seaside but Id never again in this life get into a boat
+with him after him at Bray telling the boatman he knew how to row if
+anyone asked could he ride the steeplechase for the gold cup hed say
+yes then it came on to get rough the old thing crookeding about and the
+weight all down my side telling me pull the right reins now pull the
+left and the tide all swamping in floods in through the bottom and his
+oar slipping out of the stirrup its a mercy we werent all drowned he can
+swim of course me no theres no danger whatsoever keep yourself calm in
+his flannel trousers Id like to have tattered them down off him before
+all the people and give him what that one calls flagellate till he was
+black and blue do him all the good in the world only for that longnosed
+chap I dont know who he is with that other beauty Burke out of the City
+Arms hotel was there spying around as usual on the slip always where he
+wasnt wanted if there was a row on youd vomit a better face there was no
+love lost between us thats 1 consolation I wonder what kind is that book
+he brought me Sweets of Sin by a gentleman of fashion some other Mr de
+Kock I suppose the people gave him that nickname going about with his
+tube from one woman to another I couldnt even change my new white shoes
+all ruined with the saltwater and the hat I had with that feather all
+blowy and tossed on me how annoying and provoking because the smell of
+the sea excited me of course the sardines and the bream in Catalan bay
+round the back of the rock they were fine all silver in the fishermens
+baskets old Luigi near a hundred they said came from Genoa and the tall
+old chap with the earrings I dont like a man you have to climb up to to
+get at I suppose theyre all dead and rotten long ago besides I dont like
+being alone in this big barracks of a place at night I suppose Ill have
+to put up with it I never brought a bit of salt in even when we moved
+in the confusion musical academy he was going to make on the first floor
+drawingroom with a brassplate or Blooms private hotel he suggested go
+and ruin himself altogether the way his father did down in Ennis like
+all the things he told father he was going to do and me but I saw
+through him telling me all the lovely places we could go for the
+honeymoon Venice by moonlight with the gondolas and the lake of Como he
+had a picture cut out of some paper of and mandolines and lanterns O
+how nice I said whatever I liked he was going to do immediately if
+not sooner will you be my man will you carry my can he ought to get a
+leather medal with a putty rim for all the plans he invents then leaving
+us here all day youd never know what old beggar at the door for a crust
+with his long story might be a tramp and put his foot in the way to
+prevent me shutting it like that picture of that hardened criminal he
+was called in Lloyds Weekly news 20 years in jail then he comes out and
+murders an old woman for her money imagine his poor wife or mother or
+whoever she is such a face youd run miles away from I couldnt rest easy
+till I bolted all the doors and windows to make sure but its worse again
+being locked up like in a prison or a madhouse they ought to be all shot
+or the cat of nine tails a big brute like that that would attack a poor
+old woman to murder her in her bed Id cut them off him so I would not
+that hed be much use still better than nothing the night I was sure
+I heard burglars in the kitchen and he went down in his shirt with a
+candle and a poker as if he was looking for a mouse as white as a sheet
+frightened out of his wits making as much noise as he possibly could
+for the burglars benefit there isnt much to steal indeed the Lord knows
+still its the feeling especially now with Milly away such an idea for
+him to send the girl down there to learn to take photographs on account
+of his grandfather instead of sending her to Skerrys academy where shed
+have to learn not like me getting all IS at school only hed do a thing
+like that all the same on account of me and Boylan thats why he did
+it Im certain the way he plots and plans everything out I couldnt turn
+round with her in the place lately unless I bolted the door first gave
+me the fidgets coming in without knocking first when I put the chair
+against the door just as I was washing myself there below with the glove
+get on your nerves then doing the loglady all day put her in a glasscase
+with two at a time to look at her if he knew she broke off the hand off
+that little gimcrack statue with her roughness and carelessness before
+she left that I got that little Italian boy to mend so that you cant
+see the join for 2 shillings wouldnt even teem the potatoes for you of
+course shes right not to ruin her hands I noticed he was always talking
+to her lately at the table explaining things in the paper and she
+pretending to understand sly of course that comes from his side of the
+house he cant say I pretend things can he Im too honest as a matter of
+fact and helping her into her coat but if there was anything wrong with
+her its me shed tell not him I suppose he thinks Im finished out and
+laid on the shelf well Im not no nor anything like it well see well see
+now shes well on for flirting too with Tom Devans two sons imitating
+me whistling with those romps of Murray girls calling for her can Milly
+come out please shes in great demand to pick what they can out of her
+round in Nelson street riding Harry Devans bicycle at night its as well
+he sent her where she is she was just getting out of bounds wanting to
+go on the skatingrink and smoking their cigarettes through their nose I
+smelt it off her dress when I was biting off the thread of the button
+I sewed on to the bottom of her jacket she couldnt hide much from me I
+tell you only I oughtnt to have stitched it and it on her it brings a
+parting and the last plumpudding too split in 2 halves see it comes out
+no matter what they say her tongue is a bit too long for my taste
+your blouse is open too low she says to me the pan calling the kettle
+blackbottom and I had to tell her not to cock her legs up like that on
+show on the windowsill before all the people passing they all look at
+her like me when I was her age of course any old rag looks well on
+you then a great touchmenot too in her own way at the Only Way in the
+Theatre royal take your foot away out of that I hate people touching
+me afraid of her life Id crush her skirt with the pleats a lot of that
+touching must go on in theatres in the crush in the dark theyre always
+trying to wiggle up to you that fellow in the pit at the Gaiety for
+Beerbohm Tree in Trilby the last time Ill ever go there to be squashed
+like that for any Trilby or her barebum every two minutes tipping me
+there and looking away hes a bit daft I think I saw him after trying to
+get near two stylishdressed ladies outside Switzers window at the same
+little game I recognised him on the moment the face and everything but
+he didnt remember me yes and she didnt even want me to kiss her at the
+Broadstone going away well I hope shell get someone to dance attendance
+on her the way I did when she was down with the mumps and her glands
+swollen wheres this and wheres that of course she cant feel anything
+deep yet I never came properly till I was what 22 or so it went into the
+wrong place always only the usual girls nonsense and giggling that
+Conny Connolly writing to her in white ink on black paper sealed with
+sealingwax though she clapped when the curtain came down because he
+looked so handsome then we had Martin Harvey for breakfast dinner and
+supper I thought to myself afterwards it must be real love if a man
+gives up his life for her that way for nothing I suppose there are a
+few men like that left its hard to believe in it though unless it really
+happened to me the majority of them with not a particle of love in their
+natures to find two people like that nowadays full up of each other that
+would feel the same way as you do theyre usually a bit foolish in the
+head his father must have been a bit queer to go and poison himself
+after her still poor old man I suppose he felt lost shes always making
+love to my things too the few old rags I have wanting to put her hair up
+at I S my powder too only ruin her skin on her shes time enough for that
+all her life after of course shes restless knowing shes pretty with her
+lips so red a pity they wont stay that way I was too but theres no use
+going to the fair with the thing answering me like a fishwoman when
+I asked to go for a half a stone of potatoes the day we met Mrs Joe
+Gallaher at the trottingmatches and she pretended not to see us in her
+trap with Friery the solicitor we werent grand enough till I gave her 2
+damn fine cracks across the ear for herself take that now for answering
+me like that and that for your impudence she had me that exasperated of
+course contradicting I was badtempered too because how was it there was
+a weed in the tea or I didnt sleep the night before cheese I ate was it
+and I told her over and over again not to leave knives crossed like that
+because she has nobody to command her as she said herself well if he
+doesnt correct her faith I will that was the last time she turned on the
+teartap I was just like that myself they darent order me about the place
+its his fault of course having the two of us slaving here instead of
+getting in a woman long ago am I ever going to have a proper servant
+again of course then shed see him coming Id have to let her know or shed
+revenge it arent they a nuisance that old Mrs Fleming you have to be
+walking round after her putting the things into her hands sneezing and
+farting into the pots well of course shes old she cant help it a good
+job I found that rotten old smelly dishcloth that got lost behind the
+dresser I knew there was something and opened the area window to let out
+the smell bringing in his friends to entertain them like the night he
+walked home with a dog if you please that might have been mad especially
+Simon Dedalus son his father such a criticiser with his glasses up with
+his tall hat on him at the cricket match and a great big hole in his
+sock one thing laughing at the other and his son that got all those
+prizes for whatever he won them in the intermediate imagine climbing
+over the railings if anybody saw him that knew us I wonder he didnt tear
+a big hole in his grand funeral trousers as if the one nature gave wasnt
+enough for anybody hawking him down into the dirty old kitchen now is he
+right in his head I ask pity it wasnt washing day my old pair of drawers
+might have been hanging up too on the line on exhibition for all hed
+ever care with the ironmould mark the stupid old bundle burned on them
+he might think was something else and she never even rendered down the
+fat I told her and now shes going such as she was on account of her
+paralysed husband getting worse theres always something wrong with them
+disease or they have to go under an operation or if its not that its
+drink and he beats her Ill have to hunt around again for someone every
+day I get up theres some new thing on sweet God sweet God well when Im
+stretched out dead in my grave I suppose 111 have some peace I want to
+get up a minute if Im let wait O Jesus wait yes that thing has come on
+me yes now wouldnt that afflict you of course all the poking and rooting
+and ploughing he had up in me now what am I to do Friday Saturday Sunday
+wouldnt that pester the soul out of a body unless he likes it some men
+do God knows theres always something wrong with us 5 days every 3 or 4
+weeks usual monthly auction isnt it simply sickening that night it came
+on me like that the one and only time we were in a box that Michael Gunn
+gave him to see Mrs Kendal and her husband at the Gaiety something he
+did about insurance for him in Drimmies I was fit to be tied though I
+wouldnt give in with that gentleman of fashion staring down at me with
+his glasses and him the other side of me talking about Spinoza and his
+soul thats dead I suppose millions of years ago I smiled the best I
+could all in a swamp leaning forward as if I was interested having to
+sit it out then to the last tag I wont forget that wife of Scarli in
+a hurry supposed to be a fast play about adultery that idiot in the
+gallery hissing the woman adulteress he shouted I suppose he went and
+had a woman in the next lane running round all the back ways after
+to make up for it I wish he had what I had then hed boo I bet the cat
+itself is better off than us have we too much blood up in us or what O
+patience above its pouring out of me like the sea anyhow he didnt make
+me pregnant as big as he is I dont want to ruin the clean sheets I just
+put on I suppose the clean linen I wore brought it on too damn it damn
+it and they always want to see a stain on the bed to know youre a virgin
+for them all thats troubling them theyre such fools too you could be a
+widow or divorced 40 times over a daub of red ink would do or blackberry
+juice no thats too purply O Jamesy let me up out of this pooh sweets of
+sin whoever suggested that business for women what between clothes and
+cooking and children this damned old bed too jingling like the dickens
+I suppose they could hear us away over the other side of the park till I
+suggested to put the quilt on the floor with the pillow under my bottom
+I wonder is it nicer in the day I think it is easy I think Ill cut
+all this hair off me there scalding me I might look like a young girl
+wouldnt he get the great suckin the next time he turned up my clothes on
+me Id give anything to see his face wheres the chamber gone easy Ive a
+holy horror of its breaking under me after that old commode I wonder
+was I too heavy sitting on his knee I made him sit on the easychair
+purposely when I took off only my blouse and skirt first in the other
+room he was so busy where he oughtnt to be he never felt me I hope my
+breath was sweet after those kissing comfits easy God I remember one
+time I could scout it out straight whistling like a man almost easy O
+Lord how noisy I hope theyre bubbles on it for a wad of money from some
+fellow 111 have to perfume it in the morning dont forget I bet he
+never saw a better pair of thighs than that look how white they are the
+smoothest place is right there between this bit here how soft like a
+peach easy God I wouldnt mind being a man and get up on a lovely woman
+O Lord what a row youre making like the jersey lily easy easy O how the
+waters come down at Lahore
+
+who knows is there anything the matter with my insides or have I
+something growing in me getting that thing like that every week when was
+it last I Whit Monday yes its only about 3 weeks I ought to go to the
+doctor only it would be like before I married him when I had that white
+thing coming from me and Floey made me go to that dry old stick Dr
+Collins for womens diseases on Pembroke road your vagina he called it I
+suppose thats how he got all the gilt mirrors and carpets getting round
+those rich ones off Stephens green running up to him for every little
+fiddlefaddle her vagina and her cochinchina theyve money of course so
+theyre all right I wouldnt marry him not if he was the last man in
+the world besides theres something queer about their children always
+smelling around those filthy bitches all sides asking me if what I did
+had an offensive odour what did he want me to do but the one thing gold
+maybe what a question if I smathered it all over his wrinkly old face
+for him with all my compriments I suppose hed know then and could you
+pass it easily pass what I thought he was talking about the rock of
+Gibraltar the way he put it thats a very nice invention too by the
+way only I like letting myself down after in the hole as far as I can
+squeeze and pull the chain then to flush it nice cool pins and needles
+still theres something in it I suppose I always used to know by Millys
+when she was a child whether she had worms or not still all the same
+paying him for that how much is that doctor one guinea please and asking
+me had I frequent omissions where do those old fellows get all the words
+they have omissions with his shortsighted eyes on me cocked sideways I
+wouldnt trust him too far to give me chloroform or God knows what else
+still I liked him when he sat down to write the thing out frowning so
+severe his nose intelligent like that you be damned you lying strap O
+anything no matter who except an idiot he was clever enough to spot
+that of course that was all thinking of him and his mad crazy letters
+my Precious one everything connected with your glorious Body everything
+underlined that comes from it is a thing of beauty and of joy for ever
+something he got out of some nonsensical book that he had me always at
+myself 4 and 5 times a day sometimes and I said I hadnt are you sure
+O yes I said I am quite sure in a way that shut him up I knew what was
+coming next only natural weakness it was he excited me I dont know how
+the first night ever we met when I was living in Rehoboth terrace we
+stood staring at one another for about lo minutes as if we met somewhere
+I suppose on account of my being jewess looking after my mother he used
+to amuse me the things he said with the half sloothering smile on him
+and all the Doyles said he was going to stand for a member of Parliament
+O wasnt I the born fool to believe all his blather about home rule
+and the land league sending me that long strool of a song out of the
+Huguenots to sing in French to be more classy O beau pays de la Touraine
+that I never even sang once explaining and rigmaroling about religion
+and persecution he wont let you enjoy anything naturally then might he
+as a great favour the very 1st opportunity he got a chance in Brighton
+square running into my bedroom pretending the ink got on his hands to
+wash it off with the Albion milk and sulphur soap I used to use and the
+gelatine still round it O I laughed myself sick at him that day I better
+not make an alnight sitting on this affair they ought to make chambers a
+natural size so that a woman could sit on it properly he kneels down to
+do it I suppose there isnt in all creation another man with the habits
+he has look at the way hes sleeping at the foot of the bed how can he
+without a hard bolster its well he doesnt kick or he might knock out
+all my teeth breathing with his hand on his nose like that Indian god
+he took me to show one wet Sunday in the museum in Kildare street all
+yellow in a pinafore lying on his side on his hand with his ten toes
+sticking out that he said was a bigger religion than the jews and
+Our Lords both put together all over Asia imitating him as hes always
+imitating everybody I suppose he used to sleep at the foot of the bed
+too with his big square feet up in his wifes mouth damn this stinking
+thing anyway wheres this those napkins are ah yes I know I hope the old
+press doesnt creak ah I knew it would hes sleeping hard had a good time
+somewhere still she must have given him great value for his money of
+course he has to pay for it from her O this nuisance of a thing I hope
+theyll have something better for us in the other world tying ourselves
+up God help us thats all right for tonight now the lumpy old jingly
+bed always reminds me of old Cohen I suppose he scratched himself in it
+often enough and he thinks father bought it from Lord Napier that I used
+to admire when I was a little girl because I told him easy piano O
+I like my bed God here we are as bad as ever after 16 years how many
+houses were we in at all Raymond terrace and Ontario terrace and Lombard
+street and Holles street and he goes about whistling every time were on
+the run again his huguenots or the frogs march pretending to help the
+men with our 4 sticks of furniture and then the City Arms hotel worse
+and worse says Warden Daly that charming place on the landing always
+somebody inside praying then leaving all their stinks after them
+always know who was in there last every time were just getting on right
+something happens or he puts his big foot in it Thoms and Helys and Mr
+Cuffes and Drimmies either hes going to be run into prison over his old
+lottery tickets that was to be all our salvations or he goes and gives
+impudence well have him coming home with the sack soon out of the
+Freeman too like the rest on account of those Sinner Fein or the
+freemasons then well see if the little man he showed me dribbling
+along in the wet all by himself round by Coadys lane will give him much
+consolation that he says is so capable and sincerely Irish he is indeed
+judging by the sincerity of the trousers I saw on him wait theres
+Georges church bells wait 3 quarters the hour l wait 2 oclock well
+thats a nice hour of the night for him to be coming home at to anybody
+climbing down into the area if anybody saw him Ill knock him off that
+little habit tomorrow first Ill look at his shirt to see or Ill see if
+he has that French letter still in his pocketbook I suppose he thinks I
+dont know deceitful men all their 20 pockets arent enough for their lies
+then why should we tell them even if its the truth they dont believe you
+then tucked up in bed like those babies in the Aristocrats Masterpiece
+he brought me another time as if we hadnt enough of that in real life
+without some old Aristocrat or whatever his name is disgusting you more
+with those rotten pictures children with two heads and no legs thats the
+kind of villainy theyre always dreaming about with not another thing in
+their empty heads they ought to get slow poison the half of them then
+tea and toast for him buttered on both sides and newlaid eggs I suppose
+Im nothing any more when I wouldnt let him lick me in Holles street one
+night man man tyrant as ever for the one thing he slept on the floor
+half the night naked the way the jews used when somebody dies belonged
+to them and wouldnt eat any breakfast or speak a word wanting to be
+petted so I thought I stood out enough for one time and let him he does
+it all wrong too thinking only of his own pleasure his tongue is too
+flat or I dont know what he forgets that wethen I dont Ill make him do
+it again if he doesnt mind himself and lock him down to sleep in the
+coalcellar with the blackbeetles I wonder was it her Josie off her head
+with my castoffs hes such a born liar too no hed never have the courage
+with a married woman thats why he wants me and Boylan though as for her
+Denis as she calls him that forlornlooking spectacle you couldnt call
+him a husband yes its some little bitch hes got in with even when I was
+with him with Milly at the College races that Hornblower with the childs
+bonnet on the top of his nob let us into by the back way he was throwing
+his sheeps eyes at those two doing skirt duty up and down I tried to
+wink at him first no use of course and thats the way his money goes this
+is the fruits of Mr Paddy Dignam yes they were all in great style at the
+grand funeral in the paper Boylan brought in if they saw a real officers
+funeral thatd be something reversed arms muffled drums the poor horse
+walking behind in black L Boom and Tom Kernan that drunken little
+barrelly man that bit his tongue off falling down the mens W C drunk
+in some place or other and Martin Cunningham and the two Dedaluses and
+Fanny MCoys husband white head of cabbage skinny thing with a turn in
+her eye trying to sing my songs shed want to be born all over again and
+her old green dress with the lowneck as she cant attract them any other
+way like dabbling on a rainy day I see it all now plainly and they call
+that friendship killing and then burying one another and they all with
+their wives and families at home more especially Jack Power keeping that
+barmaid he does of course his wife is always sick or going to be sick
+or just getting better of it and hes a goodlooking man still though
+hes getting a bit grey over the ears theyre a nice lot all of them well
+theyre not going to get my husband again into their clutches if I can
+help it making fun of him then behind his back I know well when he goes
+on with his idiotics because he has sense enough not to squander every
+penny piece he earns down their gullets and looks after his wife and
+family goodfornothings poor Paddy Dignam all the same Im sorry in a
+way for him what are his wife and 5 children going to do unless he was
+insured comical little teetotum always stuck up in some pub corner and
+her or her son waiting Bill Bailey wont you please come home her widows
+weeds wont improve her appearance theyre awfully becoming though if
+youre goodlooking what men wasnt he yes he was at the Glencree dinner
+and Ben Dollard base barreltone the night he borrowed the swallowtail
+to sing out of in Holles street squeezed and squashed into them and
+grinning all over his big Dolly face like a wellwhipped childs botty
+didnt he look a balmy ballocks sure enough that must have been a
+spectacle on the stage imagine paying 5/- in the preserved seats for
+that to see him trotting off in his trowlers and Simon Dedalus too he
+was always turning up half screwed singing the second verse first the
+old love is the new was one of his so sweetly sang the maiden on the
+hawthorn bough he was always on for flirtyfying too when I sang Maritana
+with him at Freddy Mayers private opera he had a delicious glorious
+voice Phoebe dearest goodbye _sweet_heart sweetheart he always sang it
+not like Bartell Darcy sweet tart goodbye of course he had the gift of
+the voice so there was no art in it all over you like a warm showerbath
+O Maritana wildwood flower we sang splendidly though it was a bit too
+high for my register even transposed and he was married at the time to
+May Goulding but then hed say or do something to knock the good out of
+it hes a widower now I wonder what sort is his son he says hes an author
+and going to be a university professor of Italian and Im to take lessons
+what is he driving at now showing him my photo its not good of me I
+ought to have got it taken in drapery that never looks out of fashion
+still I look young in it I wonder he didnt make him a present of it
+altogether and me too after all why not I saw him driving down to the
+Kingsbridge station with his father and mother I was in mourning thats
+11 years ago now yes hed be 11 though what was the good in going into
+mourning for what was neither one thing nor the other the first cry was
+enough for me I heard the deathwatch too ticking in the wall of course
+he insisted hed go into mourning for the cat I suppose hes a man now by
+this time he was an innocent boy then and a darling little fellow in his
+lord Fauntleroy suit and curly hair like a prince on the stage when I
+saw him at Mat Dillons he liked me too I remember they all do wait by
+God yes wait yes hold on he was on the cards this morning when I laid
+out the deck union with a young stranger neither dark nor fair you met
+before I thought it meant him but hes no chicken nor a stranger either
+besides my face was turned the other way what was the 7th card after
+that the 10 of spades for a journey by land then there was a letter on
+its way and scandals too the 3 queens and the 8 of diamonds for a rise
+in society yes wait it all came out and 2 red 8s for new garments look
+at that and didnt I dream something too yes there was something about
+poetry in it I hope he hasnt long greasy hair hanging into his eyes or
+standing up like a red Indian what do they go about like that for only
+getting themselves and their poetry laughed at I always liked poetry
+when I was a girl first I thought he was a poet like lord Byron and not
+an ounce of it in his composition I thought he was quite different I
+wonder is he too young hes about wait 88 I was married 88 Milly is 15
+yesterday 89 what age was he then at Dillons 5 or 6 about 88 I suppose
+hes 20 or more Im not too old for him if hes 23 or 24 I hope hes not
+that stuckup university student sort no otherwise he wouldnt go sitting
+down in the old kitchen with him taking Eppss cocoa and talking of
+course he pretended to understand it all probably he told him he was
+out of Trinity college hes very young to be a professor I hope hes not
+a professor like Goodwin was he was a potent professor of John Jameson
+they all write about some woman in their poetry well I suppose he wont
+find many like me where softly sighs of love the light guitar where
+poetry is in the air the blue sea and the moon shining so beautifully
+coming back on the nightboat from Tarifa the lighthouse at Europa point
+the guitar that fellow played was so expressive will I ever go back
+there again all new faces two glancing eyes a lattice hid Ill sing that
+for him theyre my eyes if hes anything of a poet two eyes as darkly
+bright as loves own star arent those beautiful words as loves young star
+itll be a change the Lord knows to have an intelligent person to talk
+to about yourself not always listening to him and Billy Prescotts ad
+and Keyess ad and Tom the Devils ad then if anything goes wrong in their
+business we have to suffer Im sure hes very distinguished Id like to
+meet a man like that God not those other ruck besides hes young those
+fine young men I could see down in Margate strand bathingplace from the
+side of the rock standing up in the sun naked like a God or something
+and then plunging into the sea with them why arent all men like that
+thered be some consolation for a woman like that lovely little statue he
+bought I could look at him all day long curly head and his shoulders
+his finger up for you to listen theres real beauty and poetry for you
+I often felt I wanted to kiss him all over also his lovely young cock
+there so simple I wouldnt mind taking him in my mouth if nobody was
+looking as if it was asking you to suck it so clean and white he looks
+with his boyish face I would too in 1/2 a minute even if some of it went
+down what its only like gruel or the dew theres no danger besides hed
+be so clean compared with those pigs of men I suppose never dream of
+washing it from I years end to the other the most of them only thats
+what gives the women the moustaches Im sure itll be grand if I can only
+get in with a handsome young poet at my age Ill throw them the 1st thing
+in the morning till I see if the wishcard comes out or Ill try pairing
+the lady herself and see if he comes out Ill read and study all I can
+find or learn a bit off by heart if I knew who he likes so he wont think
+me stupid if he thinks all women are the same and I can teach him the
+other part Ill make him feel all over him till he half faints under
+me then hell write about me lover and mistress publicly too with our 2
+photographs in all the papers when he becomes famous O but then what am
+I going to do about him though
+
+no thats no way for him has he no manners nor no refinement nor no
+nothing in his nature slapping us behind like that on my bottom because
+I didnt call him Hugh the ignoramus that doesnt know poetry from a
+cabbage thats what you get for not keeping them in their proper place
+pulling off his shoes and trousers there on the chair before me so
+barefaced without even asking permission and standing out that vulgar
+way in the half of a shirt they wear to be admired like a priest or a
+butcher or those old hypocrites in the time of Julius Caesar of course
+hes right enough in his way to pass the time as a joke sure you might
+as well be in bed with what with a lion God Im sure hed have something
+better to say for himself an old Lion would O well I suppose its because
+they were so plump and tempting in my short petticoat he couldnt resist
+they excite myself sometimes its well for men all the amount of pleasure
+they get off a womans body were so round and white for them always I
+wished I was one myself for a change just to try with that thing they
+have swelling up on you so hard and at the same time so soft when you
+touch it my uncle John has a thing long I heard those cornerboys saying
+passing the comer of Marrowbone lane my aunt Mary has a thing hairy
+because it was dark and they knew a girl was passing it didnt make me
+blush why should it either its only nature and he puts his thing long
+into my aunt Marys hairy etcetera and turns out to be you put the handle
+in a sweepingbrush men again all over they can pick and choose what they
+please a married woman or a fast widow or a girl for their different
+tastes like those houses round behind Irish street no but were to be
+always chained up theyre not going to be chaining me up no damn fear
+once I start I tell you for their stupid husbands jealousy why cant we
+all remain friends over it instead of quarrelling her husband found it
+out what they did together well naturally and if he did can he undo it
+hes coronado anyway whatever he does and then he going to the other
+mad extreme about the wife in Fair Tyrants of course the man never even
+casts a 2nd thought on the husband or wife either its the woman he wants
+and he gets her what else were we given all those desires for Id like to
+know I cant help it if Im young still can I its a wonder Im not an old
+shrivelled hag before my time living with him so cold never embracing
+me except sometimes when hes asleep the wrong end of me not knowing I
+suppose who he has any man thatd kiss a womans bottom Id throw my hat at
+him after that hed kiss anything unnatural where we havent I atom of any
+kind of expression in us all of us the same 2 lumps of lard before ever
+Id do that to a man pfooh the dirty brutes the mere thought is enough
+I kiss the feet of you senorita theres some sense in that didnt he kiss
+our halldoor yes he did what a madman nobody understands his cracked
+ideas but me still of course a woman wants to be embraced 20 times a day
+almost to make her look young no matter by who so long as to be in love
+or loved by somebody if the fellow you want isnt there sometimes by the
+Lord God I was thinking would I go around by the quays there some dark
+evening where nobodyd know me and pick up a sailor off the sea thatd be
+hot on for it and not care a pin whose I was only do it off up in a gate
+somewhere or one of those wildlooking gipsies in Rathfarnham had their
+camp pitched near the Bloomfield laundry to try and steal our things if
+they could I only sent mine there a few times for the name model
+laundry sending me back over and over some old ones odd stockings that
+blackguardlooking fellow with the fine eyes peeling a switch attack me
+in the dark and ride me up against the wall without a word or a murderer
+anybody what they do themselves the fine gentlemen in their silk hats
+that K C lives up somewhere this way coming out of Hardwicke lane the
+night he gave us the fish supper on account of winning over the boxing
+match of course it was for me he gave it I knew him by his gaiters and
+the walk and when I turned round a minute after just to see there was
+a woman after coming out of it too some filthy prostitute then he goes
+home to his wife after that only I suppose the half of those sailors are
+rotten again with disease O move over your big carcass out of that for
+the love of Mike listen to him the winds that waft my sighs to thee so
+well he may sleep and sigh the great Suggester Don Poldo de la Flora if
+he knew how he came out on the cards this morning hed have something to
+sigh for a dark man in some perplexity between 2 7s too in prison for
+Lord knows what he does that I dont know and Im to be slooching around
+down in the kitchen to get his lordship his breakfast while hes rolled
+up like a mummy will I indeed did you ever see me running Id just like
+to see myself at it show them attention and they treat you like dirt
+I dont care what anybody says itd be much better for the world to be
+governed by the women in it you wouldnt see women going and killing one
+another and slaughtering when do you ever see women rolling around drunk
+like they do or gambling every penny they have and losing it on horses
+yes because a woman whatever she does she knows where to stop sure they
+wouldnt be in the world at all only for us they dont know what it is to
+be a woman and a mother how could they where would they all of them be
+if they hadnt all a mother to look after them what I never had thats
+why I suppose hes running wild now out at night away from his books
+and studies and not living at home on account of the usual rowy house I
+suppose well its a poor case that those that have a fine son like that
+theyre not satisfied and I none was he not able to make one it wasnt my
+fault we came together when I was watching the two dogs up in her behind
+in the middle of the naked street that disheartened me altogether I
+suppose I oughtnt to have buried him in that little woolly jacket I
+knitted crying as I was but give it to some poor child but I knew well
+Id never have another our 1st death too it was we were never the same
+since O Im not going to think myself into the glooms about that any
+more I wonder why he wouldnt stay the night I felt all the time it was
+somebody strange he brought in instead of roving around the city meeting
+God knows who nightwalkers and pickpockets his poor mother wouldnt
+like that if she was alive ruining himself for life perhaps still its a
+lovely hour so silent I used to love coming home after dances the air of
+the night they have friends they can talk to weve none either he wants
+what he wont get or its some woman ready to stick her knife in you I
+hate that in women no wonder they treat us the way they do we are a
+dreadful lot of bitches I suppose its all the troubles we have makes us
+so snappy Im not like that he could easy have slept in there on the sofa
+in the other room I suppose he was as shy as a boy he being so young
+hardly 20 of me in the next room hed have heard me on the chamber arrah
+what harm Dedalus I wonder its like those names in Gibraltar Delapaz
+Delagracia they had the devils queer names there father Vilaplana of
+Santa Maria that gave me the rosary Rosales y OReilly in the Calle las
+Siete Revueltas and Pisimbo and Mrs Opisso in Governor street O what a
+name Id go and drown myself in the first river if I had a name like
+her O my and all the bits of streets Paradise ramp and Bedlam ramp and
+Rodgers ramp and Crutchetts ramp and the devils gap steps well small
+blame to me if I am a harumscarum I know I am a bit I declare to God I
+dont feel a day older than then I wonder could I get my tongue round
+any of the Spanish como esta usted muy bien gracias y usted see I havent
+forgotten it all I thought I had only for the grammar a noun is the
+name of any person place or thing pity I never tried to read that novel
+cantankerous Mrs Rubio lent me by Valera with the questions in it all
+upside down the two ways I always knew wed go away in the end I can
+tell him the Spanish and he tell me the Italian then hell see Im not
+so ignorant what a pity he didnt stay Im sure the poor fellow was dead
+tired and wanted a good sleep badly I could have brought him in his
+breakfast in bed with a bit of toast so long as I didnt do it on
+the knife for bad luck or if the woman was going her rounds with the
+watercress and something nice and tasty there are a few olives in the
+kitchen he might like I never could bear the look of them in Abrines
+I could do the criada the room looks all right since I changed it the
+other way you see something was telling me all the time Id have to
+introduce myself not knowing me from Adam very funny wouldnt it Im his
+wife or pretend we were in Spain with him half awake without a Gods
+notion where he is dos huevos estrellados senor Lord the cracked things
+come into my head sometimes itd be great fun supposing he stayed with us
+why not theres the room upstairs empty and Millys bed in the back room
+he could do his writing and studies at the table in there for all the
+scribbling he does at it and if he wants to read in bed in the morning
+like me as hes making the breakfast for I he can make it for 2 Im sure
+Im not going to take in lodgers off the street for him if he takes
+a gesabo of a house like this Id love to have a long talk with an
+intelligent welleducated person Id have to get a nice pair of red
+slippers like those Turks with the fez used to sell or yellow and a
+nice semitransparent morning gown that I badly want or a peachblossom
+dressing jacket like the one long ago in Walpoles only 8/6 or 18/6 Ill
+just give him one more chance Ill get up early in the morning Im sick of
+Cohens old bed in any case I might go over to the markets to see all
+the vegetables and cabbages and tomatoes and carrots and all kinds of
+splendid fruits all coming in lovely and fresh who knows whod be the 1st
+man Id meet theyre out looking for it in the morning Mamy Dillon used
+to say they are and the night too that was her massgoing Id love a
+big juicy pear now to melt in your mouth like when I used to be in the
+longing way then Ill throw him up his eggs and tea in the moustachecup
+she gave him to make his mouth bigger I suppose hed like my nice cream
+too I know what Ill do Ill go about rather gay not too much singing a
+bit now and then mi fa pieta Masetto then Ill start dressing myself to
+go out presto non son piu forte Ill put on my best shift and drawers let
+him have a good eyeful out of that to make his micky stand for him Ill
+let him know if thats what he wanted that his wife is I s l o fucked yes
+and damn well fucked too up to my neck nearly not by him 5 or 6 times
+handrunning theres the mark of his spunk on the clean sheet I wouldnt
+bother to even iron it out that ought to satisfy him if you dont believe
+me feel my belly unless I made him stand there and put him into me Ive a
+mind to tell him every scrap and make him do it out in front of me serve
+him right its all his own fault if I am an adulteress as the thing in
+the gallery said O much about it if thats all the harm ever we did in
+this vale of tears God knows its not much doesnt everybody only they
+hide it I suppose thats what a woman is supposed to be there for or
+He wouldnt have made us the way He did so attractive to men then if he
+wants to kiss my bottom Ill drag open my drawers and bulge it right out
+in his face as large as life he can stick his tongue 7 miles up my hole
+as hes there my brown part then Ill tell him I want LI or perhaps 30/-
+Ill tell him I want to buy underclothes then if he gives me that well he
+wont be too bad I dont want to soak it all out of him like other women
+do I could often have written out a fine cheque for myself and write his
+name on it for a couple of pounds a few times he forgot to lock it up
+besides he wont spend it Ill let him do it off on me behind provided he
+doesnt smear all my good drawers O I suppose that cant be helped Ill do
+the indifferent l or 2 questions Ill know by the answers when hes like
+that he cant keep a thing back I know every turn in him Ill tighten my
+bottom well and let out a few smutty words smellrump or lick my shit or
+the first mad thing comes into my head then Ill suggest about yes O wait
+now sonny my turn is coming Ill be quite gay and friendly over it O
+but I was forgetting this bloody pest of a thing pfooh you wouldnt know
+which to laugh or cry were such a mixture of plum and apple no Ill have
+to wear the old things so much the better itll be more pointed hell
+never know whether he did it or not there thats good enough for you
+any old thing at all then Ill wipe him off me just like a business his
+omission then Ill go out Ill have him eying up at the ceiling where is
+she gone now make him want me thats the only way a quarter after what an
+unearthly hour I suppose theyre just getting up in China now combing out
+their pigtails for the day well soon have the nuns ringing the angelus
+theyve nobody coming in to spoil their sleep except an odd priest or two
+for his night office or the alarmclock next door at cockshout clattering
+the brains out of itself let me see if I can doze off 1 2 3 4 5 what
+kind of flowers are those they invented like the stars the wallpaper
+in Lombard street was much nicer the apron he gave me was like that
+something only I only wore it twice better lower this lamp and try again
+so as I can get up early Ill go to Lambes there beside Findlaters and
+get them to send us some flowers to put about the place in case he
+brings him home tomorrow today I mean no no Fridays an unlucky day first
+I want to do the place up someway the dust grows in it I think while Im
+asleep then we can have music and cigarettes I can accompany him first I
+must clean the keys of the piano with milk whatll I wear shall I wear
+a white rose or those fairy cakes in Liptons I love the smell of a rich
+big shop at 7 1/2d a lb or the other ones with the cherries in them
+and the pinky sugar I Id a couple of lbs of those a nice plant for the
+middle of the table Id get that cheaper in wait wheres this I saw them
+not long ago I love flowers Id love to have the whole place swimming in
+roses God of heaven theres nothing like nature the wild mountains then
+the sea and the waves rushing then the beautiful country with the fields
+of oats and wheat and all kinds of things and all the fine cattle going
+about that would do your heart good to see rivers and lakes and flowers
+all sorts of shapes and smells and colours springing up even out of the
+ditches primroses and violets nature it is as for them saying theres no
+God I wouldnt give a snap of my two fingers for all their learning why
+dont they go and create something I often asked him atheists or whatever
+they call themselves go and wash the cobbles off themselves first then
+they go howling for the priest and they dying and why why because theyre
+afraid of hell on account of their bad conscience ah yes I know them
+well who was the first person in the universe before there was anybody
+that made it all who ah that they dont know neither do I so there you
+are they might as well try to stop the sun from rising tomorrow the sun
+shines for you he said the day we were lying among the rhododendrons on
+Howth head in the grey tweed suit and his straw hat the day I got him to
+propose to me yes first I gave him the bit of seedcake out of my mouth
+and it was leapyear like now yes 16 years ago my God after that long
+kiss I near lost my breath yes he said I was a flower of the mountain
+yes so we are flowers all a womans body yes that was one true thing he
+said in his life and the sun shines for you today yes that was why I
+liked him because I saw he understood or felt what a woman is and I knew
+I could always get round him and I gave him all the pleasure I could
+leading him on till he asked me to say yes and I wouldnt answer first
+only looked out over the sea and the sky I was thinking of so many
+things he didnt know of Mulvey and Mr Stanhope and Hester and father and
+old captain Groves and the sailors playing all birds fly and I say stoop
+and washing up dishes they called it on the pier and the sentry in front
+of the governors house with the thing round his white helmet poor devil
+half roasted and the Spanish girls laughing in their shawls and their
+tall combs and the auctions in the morning the Greeks and the jews and
+the Arabs and the devil knows who else from all the ends of Europe and
+Duke street and the fowl market all clucking outside Larby Sharons
+and the poor donkeys slipping half asleep and the vague fellows in the
+cloaks asleep in the shade on the steps and the big wheels of the carts
+of the bulls and the old castle thousands of years old yes and those
+handsome Moors all in white and turbans like kings asking you to sit
+down in their little bit of a shop and Ronda with the old windows of the
+posadas 2 glancing eyes a lattice hid for her lover to kiss the iron
+and the wineshops half open at night and the castanets and the night we
+missed the boat at Algeciras the watchman going about serene with his
+lamp and O that awful deepdown torrent O and the sea the sea crimson
+sometimes like fire and the glorious sunsets and the figtrees in the
+Alameda gardens yes and all the queer little streets and the pink
+and blue and yellow houses and the rosegardens and the jessamine and
+geraniums and cactuses and Gibraltar as a girl where I was a Flower
+of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian
+girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the
+Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked
+him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to
+say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and
+drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his
+heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.
+
+Trieste-Zurich-Paris 1914-1921
\ No newline at end of file
--- /dev/null
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of War and Peace, by Leo Tolstoy\r
+\r
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost\r
+no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it\r
+under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this\r
+eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org\r
+\r
+\r
+Title: War and Peace\r
+\r
+Author: Leo Tolstoy\r
+\r
+Translators: Louise and Aylmer Maude\r
+\r
+Posting Date: January 10, 2009 [EBook #2600]\r
+\r
+Last Updated: March 15, 2013\r
+\r
+Language: English\r
+\r
+\r
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WAR AND PEACE ***\r
+\r
+An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+WAR AND PEACE\r
+\r
+By Leo Tolstoy/Tolstoi\r
+\r
+CONTENTS\r
+\r
+BOOK ONE: 1805\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXIV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXVI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXVII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXVIII\r
+\r
+BOOK TWO: 1805\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXI\r
+\r
+BOOK THREE: 1805\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIX\r
+\r
+BOOK FOUR: 1806\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVI\r
+\r
+BOOK FIVE: 1806 - 07\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXII\r
+\r
+BOOK SIX: 1808 - 10\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXIV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXVI\r
+\r
+BOOK SEVEN: 1810 - 11\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIII\r
+\r
+BOOK EIGHT: 1811 - 12\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXII\r
+\r
+BOOK NINE: 1812\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXIII\r
+\r
+BOOK TEN: 1812\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXIV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXVI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXVII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXVIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXIX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXXI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXXII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXXIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXXIV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXXV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXXVI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXXVII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXXVIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXXIX\r
+\r
+BOOK ELEVEN: 1812\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXIV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXVI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXVII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXVIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXIX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXXI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXXII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXXIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXXIV\r
+\r
+BOOK TWELVE: 1812\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVI\r
+\r
+BOOK THIRTEEN: 1812\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIX\r
+\r
+BOOK FOURTEEN: 1812\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIX\r
+\r
+BOOK FIFTEEN: 1812 - 13\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XX\r
+\r
+FIRST EPILOGUE: 1813 - 20\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVI\r
+\r
+SECOND EPILOGUE\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+BOOK ONE: 1805\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+"Well, Prince, so Genoa and Lucca are now just family estates of the\r
+Buonapartes. But I warn you, if you don't tell me that this means war,\r
+if you still try to defend the infamies and horrors perpetrated by that\r
+Antichrist--I really believe he is Antichrist--I will have nothing more\r
+to do with you and you are no longer my friend, no longer my 'faithful\r
+slave,' as you call yourself! But how do you do? I see I have frightened\r
+you--sit down and tell me all the news."\r
+\r
+It was in July, 1805, and the speaker was the well-known Anna Pavlovna\r
+Scherer, maid of honor and favorite of the Empress Marya Fedorovna. With\r
+these words she greeted Prince Vasili Kuragin, a man of high rank and\r
+importance, who was the first to arrive at her reception. Anna Pavlovna\r
+had had a cough for some days. She was, as she said, suffering from la\r
+grippe; grippe being then a new word in St. Petersburg, used only by the\r
+elite.\r
+\r
+All her invitations without exception, written in French, and delivered\r
+by a scarlet-liveried footman that morning, ran as follows:\r
+\r
+"If you have nothing better to do, Count (or Prince), and if the\r
+prospect of spending an evening with a poor invalid is not too terrible,\r
+I shall be very charmed to see you tonight between 7 and 10--Annette\r
+Scherer."\r
+\r
+"Heavens! what a virulent attack!" replied the prince, not in the least\r
+disconcerted by this reception. He had just entered, wearing an\r
+embroidered court uniform, knee breeches, and shoes, and had stars on\r
+his breast and a serene expression on his flat face. He spoke in that\r
+refined French in which our grandfathers not only spoke but thought, and\r
+with the gentle, patronizing intonation natural to a man of importance\r
+who had grown old in society and at court. He went up to Anna Pavlovna,\r
+kissed her hand, presenting to her his bald, scented, and shining head,\r
+and complacently seated himself on the sofa.\r
+\r
+"First of all, dear friend, tell me how you are. Set your friend's mind\r
+at rest," said he without altering his tone, beneath the politeness and\r
+affected sympathy of which indifference and even irony could be\r
+discerned.\r
+\r
+"Can one be well while suffering morally? Can one be calm in times like\r
+these if one has any feeling?" said Anna Pavlovna. "You are staying the\r
+whole evening, I hope?"\r
+\r
+"And the fete at the English ambassador's? Today is Wednesday. I must\r
+put in an appearance there," said the prince. "My daughter is coming for\r
+me to take me there."\r
+\r
+"I thought today's fete had been canceled. I confess all these\r
+festivities and fireworks are becoming wearisome."\r
+\r
+"If they had known that you wished it, the entertainment would have been\r
+put off," said the prince, who, like a wound-up clock, by force of habit\r
+said things he did not even wish to be believed.\r
+\r
+"Don't tease! Well, and what has been decided about Novosiltsev's\r
+dispatch? You know everything."\r
+\r
+"What can one say about it?" replied the prince in a cold, listless\r
+tone. "What has been decided? They have decided that Buonaparte has\r
+burnt his boats, and I believe that we are ready to burn ours."\r
+\r
+Prince Vasili always spoke languidly, like an actor repeating a stale\r
+part. Anna Pavlovna Scherer on the contrary, despite her forty years,\r
+overflowed with animation and impulsiveness. To be an enthusiast had\r
+become her social vocation and, sometimes even when she did not feel\r
+like it, she became enthusiastic in order not to disappoint the\r
+expectations of those who knew her. The subdued smile which, though it\r
+did not suit her faded features, always played round her lips expressed,\r
+as in a spoiled child, a continual consciousness of her charming defect,\r
+which she neither wished, nor could, nor considered it necessary, to\r
+correct.\r
+\r
+In the midst of a conversation on political matters Anna Pavlovna burst\r
+out:\r
+\r
+"Oh, don't speak to me of Austria. Perhaps I don't understand things,\r
+but Austria never has wished, and does not wish, for war. She is\r
+betraying us! Russia alone must save Europe. Our gracious sovereign\r
+recognizes his high vocation and will be true to it. That is the one\r
+thing I have faith in! Our good and wonderful sovereign has to perform\r
+the noblest role on earth, and he is so virtuous and noble that God will\r
+not forsake him. He will fulfill his vocation and crush the hydra of\r
+revolution, which has become more terrible than ever in the person of\r
+this murderer and villain! We alone must avenge the blood of the just\r
+one.... Whom, I ask you, can we rely on?... England with her commercial\r
+spirit will not and cannot understand the Emperor Alexander's loftiness\r
+of soul. She has refused to evacuate Malta. She wanted to find, and\r
+still seeks, some secret motive in our actions. What answer did\r
+Novosiltsev get? None. The English have not understood and cannot\r
+understand the self-abnegation of our Emperor who wants nothing for\r
+himself, but only desires the good of mankind. And what have they\r
+promised? Nothing! And what little they have promised they will not\r
+perform! Prussia has always declared that Buonaparte is invincible, and\r
+that all Europe is powerless before him.... And I don't believe a word\r
+that Hardenburg says, or Haugwitz either. This famous Prussian\r
+neutrality is just a trap. I have faith only in God and the lofty\r
+destiny of our adored monarch. He will save Europe!"\r
+\r
+She suddenly paused, smiling at her own impetuosity.\r
+\r
+"I think," said the prince with a smile, "that if you had been sent\r
+instead of our dear Wintzingerode you would have captured the King of\r
+Prussia's consent by assault. You are so eloquent. Will you give me a\r
+cup of tea?"\r
+\r
+"In a moment. A propos," she added, becoming calm again, "I am expecting\r
+two very interesting men tonight, le Vicomte de Mortemart, who is\r
+connected with the Montmorencys through the Rohans, one of the best\r
+French families. He is one of the genuine emigres, the good ones. And\r
+also the Abbe Morio. Do you know that profound thinker? He has been\r
+received by the Emperor. Had you heard?"\r
+\r
+"I shall be delighted to meet them," said the prince. "But tell me," he\r
+added with studied carelessness as if it had only just occurred to him,\r
+though the question he was about to ask was the chief motive of his\r
+visit, "is it true that the Dowager Empress wants Baron Funke to be\r
+appointed first secretary at Vienna? The baron by all accounts is a poor\r
+creature."\r
+\r
+Prince Vasili wished to obtain this post for his son, but others were\r
+trying through the Dowager Empress Marya Fedorovna to secure it for the\r
+baron.\r
+\r
+Anna Pavlovna almost closed her eyes to indicate that neither she nor\r
+anyone else had a right to criticize what the Empress desired or was\r
+pleased with.\r
+\r
+"Baron Funke has been recommended to the Dowager Empress by her sister,"\r
+was all she said, in a dry and mournful tone.\r
+\r
+As she named the Empress, Anna Pavlovna's face suddenly assumed an\r
+expression of profound and sincere devotion and respect mingled with\r
+sadness, and this occurred every time she mentioned her illustrious\r
+patroness. She added that Her Majesty had deigned to show Baron Funke\r
+beaucoup d'estime, and again her face clouded over with sadness.\r
+\r
+The prince was silent and looked indifferent. But, with the womanly and\r
+courtierlike quickness and tact habitual to her, Anna Pavlovna wished\r
+both to rebuke him (for daring to speak as he had done of a man\r
+recommended to the Empress) and at the same time to console him, so she\r
+said:\r
+\r
+"Now about your family. Do you know that since your daughter came out\r
+everyone has been enraptured by her? They say she is amazingly\r
+beautiful."\r
+\r
+The prince bowed to signify his respect and gratitude.\r
+\r
+"I often think," she continued after a short pause, drawing nearer to\r
+the prince and smiling amiably at him as if to show that political and\r
+social topics were ended and the time had come for intimate\r
+conversation--"I often think how unfairly sometimes the joys of life are\r
+distributed. Why has fate given you two such splendid children? I don't\r
+speak of Anatole, your youngest. I don't like him," she added in a tone\r
+admitting of no rejoinder and raising her eyebrows. "Two such charming\r
+children. And really you appreciate them less than anyone, and so you\r
+don't deserve to have them."\r
+\r
+And she smiled her ecstatic smile.\r
+\r
+"I can't help it," said the prince. "Lavater would have said I lack the\r
+bump of paternity."\r
+\r
+"Don't joke; I mean to have a serious talk with you. Do you know I am\r
+dissatisfied with your younger son? Between ourselves" (and her face\r
+assumed its melancholy expression), "he was mentioned at Her Majesty's\r
+and you were pitied...."\r
+\r
+The prince answered nothing, but she looked at him significantly,\r
+awaiting a reply. He frowned.\r
+\r
+"What would you have me do?" he said at last. "You know I did all a\r
+father could for their education, and they have both turned out fools.\r
+Hippolyte is at least a quiet fool, but Anatole is an active one. That\r
+is the only difference between them." He said this smiling in a way more\r
+natural and animated than usual, so that the wrinkles round his mouth\r
+very clearly revealed something unexpectedly coarse and unpleasant.\r
+\r
+"And why are children born to such men as you? If you were not a father\r
+there would be nothing I could reproach you with," said Anna Pavlovna,\r
+looking up pensively.\r
+\r
+"I am your faithful slave and to you alone I can confess that my\r
+children are the bane of my life. It is the cross I have to bear. That\r
+is how I explain it to myself. It can't be helped!"\r
+\r
+He said no more, but expressed his resignation to cruel fate by a\r
+gesture. Anna Pavlovna meditated.\r
+\r
+"Have you never thought of marrying your prodigal son Anatole?" she\r
+asked. "They say old maids have a mania for matchmaking, and though I\r
+don't feel that weakness in myself as yet, I know a little person who is\r
+very unhappy with her father. She is a relation of yours, Princess Mary\r
+Bolkonskaya."\r
+\r
+Prince Vasili did not reply, though, with the quickness of memory and\r
+perception befitting a man of the world, he indicated by a movement of\r
+the head that he was considering this information.\r
+\r
+"Do you know," he said at last, evidently unable to check the sad\r
+current of his thoughts, "that Anatole is costing me forty thousand\r
+rubles a year? And," he went on after a pause, "what will it be in five\r
+years, if he goes on like this?" Presently he added: "That's what we\r
+fathers have to put up with.... Is this princess of yours rich?"\r
+\r
+"Her father is very rich and stingy. He lives in the country. He is the\r
+well-known Prince Bolkonski who had to retire from the army under the\r
+late Emperor, and was nicknamed 'the King of Prussia.' He is very clever\r
+but eccentric, and a bore. The poor girl is very unhappy. She has a\r
+brother; I think you know him, he married Lise Meinen lately. He is an\r
+aide-de-camp of Kutuzov's and will be here tonight."\r
+\r
+"Listen, dear Annette," said the prince, suddenly taking Anna Pavlovna's\r
+hand and for some reason drawing it downwards. "Arrange that affair for\r
+me and I shall always be your most devoted slave-slafe with an f, as a\r
+village elder of mine writes in his reports. She is rich and of good\r
+family and that's all I want."\r
+\r
+And with the familiarity and easy grace peculiar to him, he raised the\r
+maid of honor's hand to his lips, kissed it, and swung it to and fro as\r
+he lay back in his armchair, looking in another direction.\r
+\r
+"Attendez," said Anna Pavlovna, reflecting, "I'll speak to Lise, young\r
+Bolkonski's wife, this very evening, and perhaps the thing can be\r
+arranged. It shall be on your family's behalf that I'll start my\r
+apprenticeship as old maid."\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+Anna Pavlovna's drawing room was gradually filling. The highest\r
+Petersburg society was assembled there: people differing widely in age\r
+and character but alike in the social circle to which they belonged.\r
+Prince Vasili's daughter, the beautiful Helene, came to take her father\r
+to the ambassador's entertainment; she wore a ball dress and her badge\r
+as maid of honor. The youthful little Princess Bolkonskaya, known as la\r
+femme la plus seduisante de Petersbourg, * was also there. She had been\r
+married during the previous winter, and being pregnant did not go to any\r
+large gatherings, but only to small receptions. Prince Vasili's son,\r
+Hippolyte, had come with Mortemart, whom he introduced. The Abbe Morio\r
+and many others had also come.\r
+\r
+\r
+* The most fascinating woman in Petersburg.\r
+\r
+To each new arrival Anna Pavlovna said, "You have not yet seen my aunt,"\r
+or "You do not know my aunt?" and very gravely conducted him or her to a\r
+little old lady, wearing large bows of ribbon in her cap, who had come\r
+sailing in from another room as soon as the guests began to arrive; and\r
+slowly turning her eyes from the visitor to her aunt, Anna Pavlovna\r
+mentioned each one's name and then left them.\r
+\r
+Each visitor performed the ceremony of greeting this old aunt whom not\r
+one of them knew, not one of them wanted to know, and not one of them\r
+cared about; Anna Pavlovna observed these greetings with mournful and\r
+solemn interest and silent approval. The aunt spoke to each of them in\r
+the same words, about their health and her own, and the health of Her\r
+Majesty, "who, thank God, was better today." And each visitor, though\r
+politeness prevented his showing impatience, left the old woman with a\r
+sense of relief at having performed a vexatious duty and did not return\r
+to her the whole evening.\r
+\r
+The young Princess Bolkonskaya had brought some work in a gold-\r
+embroidered velvet bag. Her pretty little upper lip, on which a delicate\r
+dark down was just perceptible, was too short for her teeth, but it\r
+lifted all the more sweetly, and was especially charming when she\r
+occasionally drew it down to meet the lower lip. As is always the case\r
+with a thoroughly attractive woman, her defect--the shortness of her\r
+upper lip and her half-open mouth--seemed to be her own special and\r
+peculiar form of beauty. Everyone brightened at the sight of this pretty\r
+young woman, so soon to become a mother, so full of life and health, and\r
+carrying her burden so lightly. Old men and dull dispirited young ones\r
+who looked at her, after being in her company and talking to her a\r
+little while, felt as if they too were becoming, like her, full of life\r
+and health. All who talked to her, and at each word saw her bright smile\r
+and the constant gleam of her white teeth, thought that they were in a\r
+specially amiable mood that day.\r
+\r
+The little princess went round the table with quick, short, swaying\r
+steps, her workbag on her arm, and gaily spreading out her dress sat\r
+down on a sofa near the silver samovar, as if all she was doing was a\r
+pleasure to herself and to all around her. "I have brought my work,"\r
+said she in French, displaying her bag and addressing all present.\r
+"Mind, Annette, I hope you have not played a wicked trick on me," she\r
+added, turning to her hostess. "You wrote that it was to be quite a\r
+small reception, and just see how badly I am dressed." And she spread\r
+out her arms to show her short-waisted, lace-trimmed, dainty gray dress,\r
+girdled with a broad ribbon just below the breast.\r
+\r
+"Soyez tranquille, Lise, you will always be prettier than anyone else,"\r
+replied Anna Pavlovna.\r
+\r
+"You know," said the princess in the same tone of voice and still in\r
+French, turning to a general, "my husband is deserting me? He is going\r
+to get himself killed. Tell me what this wretched war is for?" she\r
+added, addressing Prince Vasili, and without waiting for an answer she\r
+turned to speak to his daughter, the beautiful Helene.\r
+\r
+"What a delightful woman this little princess is!" said Prince Vasili to\r
+Anna Pavlovna.\r
+\r
+One of the next arrivals was a stout, heavily built young man with\r
+close-cropped hair, spectacles, the light-colored breeches fashionable\r
+at that time, a very high ruffle, and a brown dress coat. This stout\r
+young man was an illegitimate son of Count Bezukhov, a well-known\r
+grandee of Catherine's time who now lay dying in Moscow. The young man\r
+had not yet entered either the military or civil service, as he had only\r
+just returned from abroad where he had been educated, and this was his\r
+first appearance in society. Anna Pavlovna greeted him with the nod she\r
+accorded to the lowest hierarchy in her drawing room. But in spite of\r
+this lowest-grade greeting, a look of anxiety and fear, as at the sight\r
+of something too large and unsuited to the place, came over her face\r
+when she saw Pierre enter. Though he was certainly rather bigger than\r
+the other men in the room, her anxiety could only have reference to the\r
+clever though shy, but observant and natural, expression which\r
+distinguished him from everyone else in that drawing room.\r
+\r
+"It is very good of you, Monsieur Pierre, to come and visit a poor\r
+invalid," said Anna Pavlovna, exchanging an alarmed glance with her aunt\r
+as she conducted him to her.\r
+\r
+Pierre murmured something unintelligible, and continued to look round as\r
+if in search of something. On his way to the aunt he bowed to the little\r
+princess with a pleased smile, as to an intimate acquaintance.\r
+\r
+Anna Pavlovna's alarm was justified, for Pierre turned away from the\r
+aunt without waiting to hear her speech about Her Majesty's health. Anna\r
+Pavlovna in dismay detained him with the words: "Do you know the Abbe\r
+Morio? He is a most interesting man."\r
+\r
+"Yes, I have heard of his scheme for perpetual peace, and it is very\r
+interesting but hardly feasible."\r
+\r
+"You think so?" rejoined Anna Pavlovna in order to say something and get\r
+away to attend to her duties as hostess. But Pierre now committed a\r
+reverse act of impoliteness. First he had left a lady before she had\r
+finished speaking to him, and now he continued to speak to another who\r
+wished to get away. With his head bent, and his big feet spread apart,\r
+he began explaining his reasons for thinking the abbe's plan chimerical.\r
+\r
+"We will talk of it later," said Anna Pavlovna with a smile.\r
+\r
+And having got rid of this young man who did not know how to behave, she\r
+resumed her duties as hostess and continued to listen and watch, ready\r
+to help at any point where the conversation might happen to flag. As the\r
+foreman of a spinning mill, when he has set the hands to work, goes\r
+round and notices here a spindle that has stopped or there one that\r
+creaks or makes more noise than it should, and hastens to check the\r
+machine or set it in proper motion, so Anna Pavlovna moved about her\r
+drawing room, approaching now a silent, now a too-noisy group, and by a\r
+word or slight rearrangement kept the conversational machine in steady,\r
+proper, and regular motion. But amid these cares her anxiety about\r
+Pierre was evident. She kept an anxious watch on him when he approached\r
+the group round Mortemart to listen to what was being said there, and\r
+again when he passed to another group whose center was the abbe.\r
+\r
+Pierre had been educated abroad, and this reception at Anna Pavlovna's\r
+was the first he had attended in Russia. He knew that all the\r
+intellectual lights of Petersburg were gathered there and, like a child\r
+in a toyshop, did not know which way to look, afraid of missing any\r
+clever conversation that was to be heard. Seeing the self-confident and\r
+refined expression on the faces of those present he was always expecting\r
+to hear something very profound. At last he came up to Morio. Here the\r
+conversation seemed interesting and he stood waiting for an opportunity\r
+to express his own views, as young people are fond of doing.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+Anna Pavlovna's reception was in full swing. The spindles hummed\r
+steadily and ceaselessly on all sides. With the exception of the aunt,\r
+beside whom sat only one elderly lady, who with her thin careworn face\r
+was rather out of place in this brilliant society, the whole company had\r
+settled into three groups. One, chiefly masculine, had formed round the\r
+abbe. Another, of young people, was grouped round the beautiful Princess\r
+Helene, Prince Vasili's daughter, and the little Princess Bolkonskaya,\r
+very pretty and rosy, though rather too plump for her age. The third\r
+group was gathered round Mortemart and Anna Pavlovna.\r
+\r
+The vicomte was a nice-looking young man with soft features and polished\r
+manners, who evidently considered himself a celebrity but out of\r
+politeness modestly placed himself at the disposal of the circle in\r
+which he found himself. Anna Pavlovna was obviously serving him up as a\r
+treat to her guests. As a clever maitre d'hotel serves up as a specially\r
+choice delicacy a piece of meat that no one who had seen it in the\r
+kitchen would have cared to eat, so Anna Pavlovna served up to her\r
+guests, first the vicomte and then the abbe, as peculiarly choice\r
+morsels. The group about Mortemart immediately began discussing the\r
+murder of the Duc d'Enghien. The vicomte said that the Duc d'Enghien had\r
+perished by his own magnanimity, and that there were particular reasons\r
+for Buonaparte's hatred of him.\r
+\r
+"Ah, yes! Do tell us all about it, Vicomte," said Anna Pavlovna, with a\r
+pleasant feeling that there was something a la Louis XV in the sound of\r
+that sentence: "Contez nous cela, Vicomte."\r
+\r
+The vicomte bowed and smiled courteously in token of his willingness to\r
+comply. Anna Pavlovna arranged a group round him, inviting everyone to\r
+listen to his tale.\r
+\r
+"The vicomte knew the duc personally," whispered Anna Pavlovna to one of\r
+the guests. "The vicomte is a wonderful raconteur," said she to another.\r
+"How evidently he belongs to the best society," said she to a third; and\r
+the vicomte was served up to the company in the choicest and most\r
+advantageous style, like a well-garnished joint of roast beef on a hot\r
+dish.\r
+\r
+The vicomte wished to begin his story and gave a subtle smile.\r
+\r
+"Come over here, Helene, dear," said Anna Pavlovna to the beautiful\r
+young princess who was sitting some way off, the center of another\r
+group.\r
+\r
+The princess smiled. She rose with the same unchanging smile with which\r
+she had first entered the room--the smile of a perfectly beautiful\r
+woman. With a slight rustle of her white dress trimmed with moss and\r
+ivy, with a gleam of white shoulders, glossy hair, and sparkling\r
+diamonds, she passed between the men who made way for her, not looking\r
+at any of them but smiling on all, as if graciously allowing each the\r
+privilege of admiring her beautiful figure and shapely shoulders, back,\r
+and bosom--which in the fashion of those days were very much exposed--\r
+and she seemed to bring the glamour of a ballroom with her as she moved\r
+toward Anna Pavlovna. Helene was so lovely that not only did she not\r
+show any trace of coquetry, but on the contrary she even appeared shy of\r
+her unquestionable and all too victorious beauty. She seemed to wish,\r
+but to be unable, to diminish its effect.\r
+\r
+"How lovely!" said everyone who saw her; and the vicomte lifted his\r
+shoulders and dropped his eyes as if startled by something extraordinary\r
+when she took her seat opposite and beamed upon him also with her\r
+unchanging smile.\r
+\r
+"Madame, I doubt my ability before such an audience," said he, smilingly\r
+inclining his head.\r
+\r
+The princess rested her bare round arm on a little table and considered\r
+a reply unnecessary. She smilingly waited. All the time the story was\r
+being told she sat upright, glancing now at her beautiful round arm,\r
+altered in shape by its pressure on the table, now at her still more\r
+beautiful bosom, on which she readjusted a diamond necklace. From time\r
+to time she smoothed the folds of her dress, and whenever the story\r
+produced an effect she glanced at Anna Pavlovna, at once adopted just\r
+the expression she saw on the maid of honor's face, and again relapsed\r
+into her radiant smile.\r
+\r
+The little princess had also left the tea table and followed Helene.\r
+\r
+"Wait a moment, I'll get my work.... Now then, what are you thinking\r
+of?" she went on, turning to Prince Hippolyte. "Fetch me my workbag."\r
+\r
+There was a general movement as the princess, smiling and talking\r
+merrily to everyone at once, sat down and gaily arranged herself in her\r
+seat.\r
+\r
+"Now I am all right," she said, and asking the vicomte to begin, she\r
+took up her work.\r
+\r
+Prince Hippolyte, having brought the workbag, joined the circle and\r
+moving a chair close to hers seated himself beside her.\r
+\r
+Le charmant Hippolyte was surprising by his extraordinary resemblance to\r
+his beautiful sister, but yet more by the fact that in spite of this\r
+resemblance he was exceedingly ugly. His features were like his\r
+sister's, but while in her case everything was lit up by a joyous, self-\r
+satisfied, youthful, and constant smile of animation, and by the\r
+wonderful classic beauty of her figure, his face on the contrary was\r
+dulled by imbecility and a constant expression of sullen self-\r
+confidence, while his body was thin and weak. His eyes, nose, and mouth\r
+all seemed puckered into a vacant, wearied grimace, and his arms and\r
+legs always fell into unnatural positions.\r
+\r
+"It's not going to be a ghost story?" said he, sitting down beside the\r
+princess and hastily adjusting his lorgnette, as if without this\r
+instrument he could not begin to speak.\r
+\r
+"Why no, my dear fellow," said the astonished narrator, shrugging his\r
+shoulders.\r
+\r
+"Because I hate ghost stories," said Prince Hippolyte in a tone which\r
+showed that he only understood the meaning of his words after he had\r
+uttered them.\r
+\r
+He spoke with such self-confidence that his hearers could not be sure\r
+whether what he said was very witty or very stupid. He was dressed in a\r
+dark-green dress coat, knee breeches of the color of cuisse de nymphe\r
+effrayee, as he called it, shoes, and silk stockings.\r
+\r
+The vicomte told his tale very neatly. It was an anecdote, then current,\r
+to the effect that the Duc d'Enghien had gone secretly to Paris to visit\r
+Mademoiselle George; that at her house he came upon Bonaparte, who also\r
+enjoyed the famous actress' favors, and that in his presence Napoleon\r
+happened to fall into one of the fainting fits to which he was subject,\r
+and was thus at the duc's mercy. The latter spared him, and this\r
+magnanimity Bonaparte subsequently repaid by death.\r
+\r
+The story was very pretty and interesting, especially at the point where\r
+the rivals suddenly recognized one another; and the ladies looked\r
+agitated.\r
+\r
+"Charming!" said Anna Pavlovna with an inquiring glance at the little\r
+princess.\r
+\r
+"Charming!" whispered the little princess, sticking the needle into her\r
+work as if to testify that the interest and fascination of the story\r
+prevented her from going on with it.\r
+\r
+The vicomte appreciated this silent praise and smiling gratefully\r
+prepared to continue, but just then Anna Pavlovna, who had kept a\r
+watchful eye on the young man who so alarmed her, noticed that he was\r
+talking too loudly and vehemently with the abbe, so she hurried to the\r
+rescue. Pierre had managed to start a conversation with the abbe about\r
+the balance of power, and the latter, evidently interested by the young\r
+man's simple-minded eagerness, was explaining his pet theory. Both were\r
+talking and listening too eagerly and too naturally, which was why Anna\r
+Pavlovna disapproved.\r
+\r
+"The means are... the balance of power in Europe and the rights of the\r
+people," the abbe was saying. "It is only necessary for one powerful\r
+nation like Russia--barbaric as she is said to be--to place herself\r
+disinterestedly at the head of an alliance having for its object the\r
+maintenance of the balance of power of Europe, and it would save the\r
+world!"\r
+\r
+"But how are you to get that balance?" Pierre was beginning.\r
+\r
+At that moment Anna Pavlovna came up and, looking severely at Pierre,\r
+asked the Italian how he stood Russian climate. The Italian's face\r
+instantly changed and assumed an offensively affected, sugary\r
+expression, evidently habitual to him when conversing with women.\r
+\r
+"I am so enchanted by the brilliancy of the wit and culture of the\r
+society, more especially of the feminine society, in which I have had\r
+the honor of being received, that I have not yet had time to think of\r
+the climate," said he.\r
+\r
+Not letting the abbe and Pierre escape, Anna Pavlovna, the more\r
+conveniently to keep them under observation, brought them into the\r
+larger circle.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+Just then another visitor entered the drawing room: Prince Andrew\r
+Bolkonski, the little princess' husband. He was a very handsome young\r
+man, of medium height, with firm, clearcut features. Everything about\r
+him, from his weary, bored expression to his quiet, measured step,\r
+offered a most striking contrast to his quiet, little wife. It was\r
+evident that he not only knew everyone in the drawing room, but had\r
+found them to be so tiresome that it wearied him to look at or listen to\r
+them. And among all these faces that he found so tedious, none seemed to\r
+bore him so much as that of his pretty wife. He turned away from her\r
+with a grimace that distorted his handsome face, kissed Anna Pavlovna's\r
+hand, and screwing up his eyes scanned the whole company.\r
+\r
+"You are off to the war, Prince?" said Anna Pavlovna.\r
+\r
+"General Kutuzov," said Bolkonski, speaking French and stressing the\r
+last syllable of the general's name like a Frenchman, "has been pleased\r
+to take me as an aide-de-camp...."\r
+\r
+"And Lise, your wife?"\r
+\r
+"She will go to the country."\r
+\r
+"Are you not ashamed to deprive us of your charming wife?"\r
+\r
+"Andre," said his wife, addressing her husband in the same coquettish\r
+manner in which she spoke to other men, "the vicomte has been telling us\r
+such a tale about Mademoiselle George and Buonaparte!"\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew screwed up his eyes and turned away. Pierre, who from the\r
+moment Prince Andrew entered the room had watched him with glad,\r
+affectionate eyes, now came up and took his arm. Before he looked round\r
+Prince Andrew frowned again, expressing his annoyance with whoever was\r
+touching his arm, but when he saw Pierre's beaming face he gave him an\r
+unexpectedly kind and pleasant smile.\r
+\r
+"There now!... So you, too, are in the great world?" said he to Pierre.\r
+\r
+"I knew you would be here," replied Pierre. "I will come to supper with\r
+you. May I?" he added in a low voice so as not to disturb the vicomte\r
+who was continuing his story.\r
+\r
+"No, impossible!" said Prince Andrew, laughing and pressing Pierre's\r
+hand to show that there was no need to ask the question. He wished to\r
+say something more, but at that moment Prince Vasili and his daughter\r
+got up to go and the two young men rose to let them pass.\r
+\r
+"You must excuse me, dear Vicomte," said Prince Vasili to the Frenchman,\r
+holding him down by the sleeve in a friendly way to prevent his rising.\r
+"This unfortunate fete at the ambassador's deprives me of a pleasure,\r
+and obliges me to interrupt you. I am very sorry to leave your\r
+enchanting party," said he, turning to Anna Pavlovna.\r
+\r
+His daughter, Princess Helene, passed between the chairs, lightly\r
+holding up the folds of her dress, and the smile shone still more\r
+radiantly on her beautiful face. Pierre gazed at her with rapturous,\r
+almost frightened, eyes as she passed him.\r
+\r
+"Very lovely," said Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+"Very," said Pierre.\r
+\r
+In passing Prince Vasili seized Pierre's hand and said to Anna Pavlovna:\r
+"Educate this bear for me! He has been staying with me a whole month and\r
+this is the first time I have seen him in society. Nothing is so\r
+necessary for a young man as the society of clever women."\r
+\r
+Anna Pavlovna smiled and promised to take Pierre in hand. She knew his\r
+father to be a connection of Prince Vasili's. The elderly lady who had\r
+been sitting with the old aunt rose hurriedly and overtook Prince Vasili\r
+in the anteroom. All the affectation of interest she had assumed had\r
+left her kindly and tear-worn face and it now expressed only anxiety and\r
+fear.\r
+\r
+"How about my son Boris, Prince?" said she, hurrying after him into the\r
+anteroom. "I can't remain any longer in Petersburg. Tell me what news I\r
+may take back to my poor boy."\r
+\r
+Although Prince Vasili listened reluctantly and not very politely to the\r
+elderly lady, even betraying some impatience, she gave him an\r
+ingratiating and appealing smile, and took his hand that he might not go\r
+away.\r
+\r
+"What would it cost you to say a word to the Emperor, and then he would\r
+be transferred to the Guards at once?" said she.\r
+\r
+"Believe me, Princess, I am ready to do all I can," answered Prince\r
+Vasili, "but it is difficult for me to ask the Emperor. I should advise\r
+you to appeal to Rumyantsev through Prince Golitsyn. That would be the\r
+best way."\r
+\r
+The elderly lady was a Princess Drubetskaya, belonging to one of the\r
+best families in Russia, but she was poor, and having long been out of\r
+society had lost her former influential connections. She had now come to\r
+Petersburg to procure an appointment in the Guards for her only son. It\r
+was, in fact, solely to meet Prince Vasili that she had obtained an\r
+invitation to Anna Pavlovna's reception and had sat listening to the\r
+vicomte's story. Prince Vasili's words frightened her, an embittered\r
+look clouded her once handsome face, but only for a moment; then she\r
+smiled again and clutched Prince Vasili's arm more tightly.\r
+\r
+"Listen to me, Prince," said she. "I have never yet asked you for\r
+anything and I never will again, nor have I ever reminded you of my\r
+father's friendship for you; but now I entreat you for God's sake to do\r
+this for my son--and I shall always regard you as a benefactor," she\r
+added hurriedly. "No, don't be angry, but promise! I have asked Golitsyn\r
+and he has refused. Be the kindhearted man you always were," she said,\r
+trying to smile though tears were in her eyes.\r
+\r
+"Papa, we shall be late," said Princess Helene, turning her beautiful\r
+head and looking over her classically molded shoulder as she stood\r
+waiting by the door.\r
+\r
+Influence in society, however, is a capital which has to be economized\r
+if it is to last. Prince Vasili knew this, and having once realized that\r
+if he asked on behalf of all who begged of him, he would soon be unable\r
+to ask for himself, he became chary of using his influence. But in\r
+Princess Drubetskaya's case he felt, after her second appeal, something\r
+like qualms of conscience. She had reminded him of what was quite true;\r
+he had been indebted to her father for the first steps in his career.\r
+Moreover, he could see by her manners that she was one of those women--\r
+mostly mothers--who, having once made up their minds, will not rest\r
+until they have gained their end, and are prepared if necessary to go on\r
+insisting day after day and hour after hour, and even to make scenes.\r
+This last consideration moved him.\r
+\r
+"My dear Anna Mikhaylovna," said he with his usual familiarity and\r
+weariness of tone, "it is almost impossible for me to do what you ask;\r
+but to prove my devotion to you and how I respect your father's memory,\r
+I will do the impossible--your son shall be transferred to the Guards.\r
+Here is my hand on it. Are you satisfied?"\r
+\r
+"My dear benefactor! This is what I expected from you--I knew your\r
+kindness!" He turned to go.\r
+\r
+"Wait--just a word! When he has been transferred to the Guards..." she\r
+faltered. "You are on good terms with Michael Ilarionovich Kutuzov...\r
+recommend Boris to him as adjutant! Then I shall be at rest, and\r
+then..."\r
+\r
+Prince Vasili smiled.\r
+\r
+"No, I won't promise that. You don't know how Kutuzov is pestered since\r
+his appointment as Commander in Chief. He told me himself that all the\r
+Moscow ladies have conspired to give him all their sons as adjutants."\r
+\r
+"No, but do promise! I won't let you go! My dear benefactor..."\r
+\r
+"Papa," said his beautiful daughter in the same tone as before, "we\r
+shall be late."\r
+\r
+"Well, au revoir! Good-bye! You hear her?"\r
+\r
+"Then tomorrow you will speak to the Emperor?"\r
+\r
+"Certainly; but about Kutuzov, I don't promise."\r
+\r
+"Do promise, do promise, Vasili!" cried Anna Mikhaylovna as he went,\r
+with the smile of a coquettish girl, which at one time probably came\r
+naturally to her, but was now very ill-suited to her careworn face.\r
+\r
+Apparently she had forgotten her age and by force of habit employed all\r
+the old feminine arts. But as soon as the prince had gone her face\r
+resumed its former cold, artificial expression. She returned to the\r
+group where the vicomte was still talking, and again pretended to\r
+listen, while waiting till it would be time to leave. Her task was\r
+accomplished.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+"And what do you think of this latest comedy, the coronation at Milan?"\r
+asked Anna Pavlovna, "and of the comedy of the people of Genoa and Lucca\r
+laying their petitions before Monsieur Buonaparte, and Monsieur\r
+Buonaparte sitting on a throne and granting the petitions of the\r
+nations? Adorable! It is enough to make one's head whirl! It is as if\r
+the whole world had gone crazy."\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew looked Anna Pavlovna straight in the face with a sarcastic\r
+smile.\r
+\r
+"'Dieu me la donne, gare a qui la touche!' * They say he was very fine\r
+when he said that," he remarked, repeating the words in Italian: "'Dio\r
+mi l'ha dato. Guai a chi la tocchi!'"\r
+\r
+\r
+* God has given it to me, let him who touches it beware!\r
+\r
+"I hope this will prove the last drop that will make the glass run\r
+over," Anna Pavlovna continued. "The sovereigns will not be able to\r
+endure this man who is a menace to everything."\r
+\r
+"The sovereigns? I do not speak of Russia," said the vicomte, polite but\r
+hopeless: "The sovereigns, madame... What have they done for Louis XVII,\r
+for the Queen, or for Madame Elizabeth? Nothing!" and he became more\r
+animated. "And believe me, they are reaping the reward of their betrayal\r
+of the Bourbon cause. The sovereigns! Why, they are sending ambassadors\r
+to compliment the usurper."\r
+\r
+And sighing disdainfully, he again changed his position.\r
+\r
+Prince Hippolyte, who had been gazing at the vicomte for some time\r
+through his lorgnette, suddenly turned completely round toward the\r
+little princess, and having asked for a needle began tracing the Conde\r
+coat of arms on the table. He explained this to her with as much gravity\r
+as if she had asked him to do it.\r
+\r
+"Baton de gueules, engrele de gueules d'azur--maison Conde," said he.\r
+\r
+The princess listened, smiling.\r
+\r
+"If Buonaparte remains on the throne of France a year longer," the\r
+vicomte continued, with the air of a man who, in a matter with which he\r
+is better acquainted than anyone else, does not listen to others but\r
+follows the current of his own thoughts, "things will have gone too far.\r
+By intrigues, violence, exile, and executions, French society--I mean\r
+good French society--will have been forever destroyed, and then..."\r
+\r
+He shrugged his shoulders and spread out his hands. Pierre wished to\r
+make a remark, for the conversation interested him, but Anna Pavlovna,\r
+who had him under observation, interrupted:\r
+\r
+"The Emperor Alexander," said she, with the melancholy which always\r
+accompanied any reference of hers to the Imperial family, "has declared\r
+that he will leave it to the French people themselves to choose their\r
+own form of government; and I believe that once free from the usurper,\r
+the whole nation will certainly throw itself into the arms of its\r
+rightful king," she concluded, trying to be amiable to the royalist\r
+emigrant.\r
+\r
+"That is doubtful," said Prince Andrew. "Monsieur le Vicomte quite\r
+rightly supposes that matters have already gone too far. I think it will\r
+be difficult to return to the old regime."\r
+\r
+"From what I have heard," said Pierre, blushing and breaking into the\r
+conversation, "almost all the aristocracy has already gone over to\r
+Bonaparte's side."\r
+\r
+"It is the Buonapartists who say that," replied the vicomte without\r
+looking at Pierre. "At the present time it is difficult to know the real\r
+state of French public opinion."\r
+\r
+"Bonaparte has said so," remarked Prince Andrew with a sarcastic smile.\r
+\r
+It was evident that he did not like the vicomte and was aiming his\r
+remarks at him, though without looking at him.\r
+\r
+"'I showed them the path to glory, but they did not follow it,'" Prince\r
+Andrew continued after a short silence, again quoting Napoleon's words.\r
+"'I opened my antechambers and they crowded in.' I do not know how far\r
+he was justified in saying so."\r
+\r
+"Not in the least," replied the vicomte. "After the murder of the duc\r
+even the most partial ceased to regard him as a hero. If to some\r
+people," he went on, turning to Anna Pavlovna, "he ever was a hero,\r
+after the murder of the duc there was one martyr more in heaven and one\r
+hero less on earth."\r
+\r
+Before Anna Pavlovna and the others had time to smile their appreciation\r
+of the vicomte's epigram, Pierre again broke into the conversation, and\r
+though Anna Pavlovna felt sure he would say something inappropriate, she\r
+was unable to stop him.\r
+\r
+"The execution of the Duc d'Enghien," declared Monsieur Pierre, "was a\r
+political necessity, and it seems to me that Napoleon showed greatness\r
+of soul by not fearing to take on himself the whole responsibility of\r
+that deed."\r
+\r
+"Dieu! Mon Dieu!" muttered Anna Pavlovna in a terrified whisper.\r
+\r
+"What, Monsieur Pierre... Do you consider that assassination shows\r
+greatness of soul?" said the little princess, smiling and drawing her\r
+work nearer to her.\r
+\r
+"Oh! Oh!" exclaimed several voices.\r
+\r
+"Capital!" said Prince Hippolyte in English, and began slapping his knee\r
+with the palm of his hand.\r
+\r
+The vicomte merely shrugged his shoulders. Pierre looked solemnly at his\r
+audience over his spectacles and continued.\r
+\r
+"I say so," he continued desperately, "because the Bourbons fled from\r
+the Revolution leaving the people to anarchy, and Napoleon alone\r
+understood the Revolution and quelled it, and so for the general good,\r
+he could not stop short for the sake of one man's life."\r
+\r
+"Won't you come over to the other table?" suggested Anna Pavlovna.\r
+\r
+But Pierre continued his speech without heeding her.\r
+\r
+"No," cried he, becoming more and more eager, "Napoleon is great because\r
+he rose superior to the Revolution, suppressed its abuses, preserved all\r
+that was good in it--equality of citizenship and freedom of speech and\r
+of the press--and only for that reason did he obtain power."\r
+\r
+"Yes, if having obtained power, without availing himself of it to commit\r
+murder he had restored it to the rightful king, I should have called him\r
+a great man," remarked the vicomte.\r
+\r
+"He could not do that. The people only gave him power that he might rid\r
+them of the Bourbons and because they saw that he was a great man. The\r
+Revolution was a grand thing!" continued Monsieur Pierre, betraying by\r
+this desperate and provocative proposition his extreme youth and his\r
+wish to express all that was in his mind.\r
+\r
+"What? Revolution and regicide a grand thing?... Well, after that... But\r
+won't you come to this other table?" repeated Anna Pavlovna.\r
+\r
+"Rousseau's Contrat Social," said the vicomte with a tolerant smile.\r
+\r
+"I am not speaking of regicide, I am speaking about ideas."\r
+\r
+"Yes: ideas of robbery, murder, and regicide," again interjected an\r
+ironical voice.\r
+\r
+"Those were extremes, no doubt, but they are not what is most important.\r
+What is important are the rights of man, emancipation from prejudices,\r
+and equality of citizenship, and all these ideas Napoleon has retained\r
+in full force."\r
+\r
+"Liberty and equality," said the vicomte contemptuously, as if at last\r
+deciding seriously to prove to this youth how foolish his words were,\r
+"high-sounding words which have long been discredited. Who does not love\r
+liberty and equality? Even our Saviour preached liberty and equality.\r
+Have people since the Revolution become happier? On the contrary. We\r
+wanted liberty, but Buonaparte has destroyed it."\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew kept looking with an amused smile from Pierre to the\r
+vicomte and from the vicomte to their hostess. In the first moment of\r
+Pierre's outburst Anna Pavlovna, despite her social experience, was\r
+horror-struck. But when she saw that Pierre's sacrilegious words had not\r
+exasperated the vicomte, and had convinced herself that it was\r
+impossible to stop him, she rallied her forces and joined the vicomte in\r
+a vigorous attack on the orator.\r
+\r
+"But, my dear Monsieur Pierre," said she, "how do you explain the fact\r
+of a great man executing a duc--or even an ordinary man who--is innocent\r
+and untried?"\r
+\r
+"I should like," said the vicomte, "to ask how monsieur explains the\r
+18th Brumaire; was not that an imposture? It was a swindle, and not at\r
+all like the conduct of a great man!"\r
+\r
+"And the prisoners he killed in Africa? That was horrible!" said the\r
+little princess, shrugging her shoulders.\r
+\r
+"He's a low fellow, say what you will," remarked Prince Hippolyte.\r
+\r
+Pierre, not knowing whom to answer, looked at them all and smiled. His\r
+smile was unlike the half-smile of other people. When he smiled, his\r
+grave, even rather gloomy, look was instantaneously replaced by another-\r
+-a childlike, kindly, even rather silly look, which seemed to ask\r
+forgiveness.\r
+\r
+The vicomte who was meeting him for the first time saw clearly that this\r
+young Jacobin was not so terrible as his words suggested. All were\r
+silent.\r
+\r
+"How do you expect him to answer you all at once?" said Prince Andrew.\r
+"Besides, in the actions of a statesman one has to distinguish between\r
+his acts as a private person, as a general, and as an emperor. So it\r
+seems to me."\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes, of course!" Pierre chimed in, pleased at the arrival of this\r
+reinforcement.\r
+\r
+"One must admit," continued Prince Andrew, "that Napoleon as a man was\r
+great on the bridge of Arcola, and in the hospital at Jaffa where he\r
+gave his hand to the plague-stricken; but... but there are other acts\r
+which it is difficult to justify."\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew, who had evidently wished to tone down the awkwardness of\r
+Pierre's remarks, rose and made a sign to his wife that it was time to\r
+go.\r
+\r
+Suddenly Prince Hippolyte started up making signs to everyone to attend,\r
+and asking them all to be seated began:\r
+\r
+"I was told a charming Moscow story today and must treat you to it.\r
+Excuse me, Vicomte--I must tell it in Russian or the point will be\r
+lost...." And Prince Hippolyte began to tell his story in such Russian\r
+as a Frenchman would speak after spending about a year in Russia.\r
+Everyone waited, so emphatically and eagerly did he demand their\r
+attention to his story.\r
+\r
+"There is in Moscow a lady, une dame, and she is very stingy. She must\r
+have two footmen behind her carriage, and very big ones. That was her\r
+taste. And she had a lady's maid, also big. She said..."\r
+\r
+Here Prince Hippolyte paused, evidently collecting his ideas with\r
+difficulty.\r
+\r
+"She said... Oh yes! She said, 'Girl,' to the maid, 'put on a livery,\r
+get up behind the carriage, and come with me while I make some calls.'"\r
+\r
+Here Prince Hippolyte spluttered and burst out laughing long before his\r
+audience, which produced an effect unfavorable to the narrator. Several\r
+persons, among them the elderly lady and Anna Pavlovna, did however\r
+smile.\r
+\r
+"She went. Suddenly there was a great wind. The girl lost her hat and\r
+her long hair came down...." Here he could contain himself no longer and\r
+went on, between gasps of laughter: "And the whole world knew...."\r
+\r
+And so the anecdote ended. Though it was unintelligible why he had told\r
+it, or why it had to be told in Russian, still Anna Pavlovna and the\r
+others appreciated Prince Hippolyte's social tact in so agreeably ending\r
+Pierre's unpleasant and unamiable outburst. After the anecdote the\r
+conversation broke up into insignificant small talk about the last and\r
+next balls, about theatricals, and who would meet whom, and when and\r
+where.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+Having thanked Anna Pavlovna for her charming soiree, the guests began\r
+to take their leave.\r
+\r
+Pierre was ungainly. Stout, about the average height, broad, with huge\r
+red hands; he did not know, as the saying is, how to enter a drawing\r
+room and still less how to leave one; that is, how to say something\r
+particularly agreeable before going away. Besides this he was absent-\r
+minded. When he rose to go, he took up instead of his own, the general's\r
+three-cornered hat, and held it, pulling at the plume, till the general\r
+asked him to restore it. All his absent-mindedness and inability to\r
+enter a room and converse in it was, however, redeemed by his kindly,\r
+simple, and modest expression. Anna Pavlovna turned toward him and, with\r
+a Christian mildness that expressed forgiveness of his indiscretion,\r
+nodded and said: "I hope to see you again, but I also hope you will\r
+change your opinions, my dear Monsieur Pierre."\r
+\r
+When she said this, he did not reply and only bowed, but again everybody\r
+saw his smile, which said nothing, unless perhaps, "Opinions are\r
+opinions, but you see what a capital, good-natured fellow I am." And\r
+everyone, including Anna Pavlovna, felt this.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew had gone out into the hall, and, turning his shoulders to\r
+the footman who was helping him on with his cloak, listened\r
+indifferently to his wife's chatter with Prince Hippolyte who had also\r
+come into the hall. Prince Hippolyte stood close to the pretty, pregnant\r
+princess, and stared fixedly at her through his eyeglass.\r
+\r
+"Go in, Annette, or you will catch cold," said the little princess,\r
+taking leave of Anna Pavlovna. "It is settled," she added in a low\r
+voice.\r
+\r
+Anna Pavlovna had already managed to speak to Lise about the match she\r
+contemplated between Anatole and the little princess' sister-in-law.\r
+\r
+"I rely on you, my dear," said Anna Pavlovna, also in a low tone. "Write\r
+to her and let me know how her father looks at the matter. Au revoir!"--\r
+and she left the hall.\r
+\r
+Prince Hippolyte approached the little princess and, bending his face\r
+close to her, began to whisper something.\r
+\r
+Two footmen, the princess' and his own, stood holding a shawl and a\r
+cloak, waiting for the conversation to finish. They listened to the\r
+French sentences which to them were meaningless, with an air of\r
+understanding but not wishing to appear to do so. The princess as usual\r
+spoke smilingly and listened with a laugh.\r
+\r
+"I am very glad I did not go to the ambassador's," said Prince Hippolyte\r
+"-so dull-. It has been a delightful evening, has it not? Delightful!"\r
+\r
+"They say the ball will be very good," replied the princess, drawing up\r
+her downy little lip. "All the pretty women in society will be there."\r
+\r
+"Not all, for you will not be there; not all," said Prince Hippolyte\r
+smiling joyfully; and snatching the shawl from the footman, whom he even\r
+pushed aside, he began wrapping it round the princess. Either from\r
+awkwardness or intentionally (no one could have said which) after the\r
+shawl had been adjusted he kept his arm around her for a long time, as\r
+though embracing her.\r
+\r
+Still smiling, she gracefully moved away, turning and glancing at her\r
+husband. Prince Andrew's eyes were closed, so weary and sleepy did he\r
+seem.\r
+\r
+"Are you ready?" he asked his wife, looking past her.\r
+\r
+Prince Hippolyte hurriedly put on his cloak, which in the latest fashion\r
+reached to his very heels, and, stumbling in it, ran out into the porch\r
+following the princess, whom a footman was helping into the carriage.\r
+\r
+"Princesse, au revoir," cried he, stumbling with his tongue as well as\r
+with his feet.\r
+\r
+The princess, picking up her dress, was taking her seat in the dark\r
+carriage, her husband was adjusting his saber; Prince Hippolyte, under\r
+pretense of helping, was in everyone's way.\r
+\r
+"Allow me, sir," said Prince Andrew in Russian in a cold, disagreeable\r
+tone to Prince Hippolyte who was blocking his path.\r
+\r
+"I am expecting you, Pierre," said the same voice, but gently and\r
+affectionately.\r
+\r
+The postilion started, the carriage wheels rattled. Prince Hippolyte\r
+laughed spasmodically as he stood in the porch waiting for the vicomte\r
+whom he had promised to take home.\r
+\r
+"Well, mon cher," said the vicomte, having seated himself beside\r
+Hippolyte in the carriage, "your little princess is very nice, very nice\r
+indeed, quite French," and he kissed the tips of his fingers. Hippolyte\r
+burst out laughing.\r
+\r
+"Do you know, you are a terrible chap for all your innocent airs,"\r
+continued the vicomte. "I pity the poor husband, that little officer who\r
+gives himself the airs of a monarch."\r
+\r
+Hippolyte spluttered again, and amid his laughter said, "And you were\r
+saying that the Russian ladies are not equal to the French? One has to\r
+know how to deal with them."\r
+\r
+Pierre reaching the house first went into Prince Andrew's study like one\r
+quite at home, and from habit immediately lay down on the sofa, took\r
+from the shelf the first book that came to his hand (it was Caesar's\r
+Commentaries), and resting on his elbow, began reading it in the middle.\r
+\r
+"What have you done to Mlle Scherer? She will be quite ill now," said\r
+Prince Andrew, as he entered the study, rubbing his small white hands.\r
+\r
+Pierre turned his whole body, making the sofa creak. He lifted his eager\r
+face to Prince Andrew, smiled, and waved his hand.\r
+\r
+"That abbe is very interesting but he does not see the thing in the\r
+right light.... In my opinion perpetual peace is possible but--I do not\r
+know how to express it... not by a balance of political power...."\r
+\r
+It was evident that Prince Andrew was not interested in such abstract\r
+conversation.\r
+\r
+"One can't everywhere say all one thinks, mon cher. Well, have you at\r
+last decided on anything? Are you going to be a guardsman or a\r
+diplomatist?" asked Prince Andrew after a momentary silence.\r
+\r
+Pierre sat up on the sofa, with his legs tucked under him.\r
+\r
+"Really, I don't yet know. I don't like either the one or the other."\r
+\r
+"But you must decide on something! Your father expects it."\r
+\r
+Pierre at the age of ten had been sent abroad with an abbe as tutor, and\r
+had remained away till he was twenty. When he returned to Moscow his\r
+father dismissed the abbe and said to the young man, "Now go to\r
+Petersburg, look round, and choose your profession. I will agree to\r
+anything. Here is a letter to Prince Vasili, and here is money. Write to\r
+me all about it, and I will help you in everything." Pierre had already\r
+been choosing a career for three months, and had not decided on\r
+anything. It was about this choice that Prince Andrew was speaking.\r
+Pierre rubbed his forehead.\r
+\r
+"But he must be a Freemason," said he, referring to the abbe whom he had\r
+met that evening.\r
+\r
+"That is all nonsense." Prince Andrew again interrupted him, "let us\r
+talk business. Have you been to the Horse Guards?"\r
+\r
+"No, I have not; but this is what I have been thinking and wanted to\r
+tell you. There is a war now against Napoleon. If it were a war for\r
+freedom I could understand it and should be the first to enter the army;\r
+but to help England and Austria against the greatest man in the world is\r
+not right."\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew only shrugged his shoulders at Pierre's childish words. He\r
+put on the air of one who finds it impossible to reply to such nonsense,\r
+but it would in fact have been difficult to give any other answer than\r
+the one Prince Andrew gave to this naive question.\r
+\r
+"If no one fought except on his own conviction, there would be no wars,"\r
+he said.\r
+\r
+"And that would be splendid," said Pierre.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew smiled ironically.\r
+\r
+"Very likely it would be splendid, but it will never come about..."\r
+\r
+"Well, why are you going to the war?" asked Pierre.\r
+\r
+"What for? I don't know. I must. Besides that I am going..." He paused.\r
+"I am going because the life I am leading here does not suit me!"\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+The rustle of a woman's dress was heard in the next room. Prince Andrew\r
+shook himself as if waking up, and his face assumed the look it had had\r
+in Anna Pavlovna's drawing room. Pierre removed his feet from the sofa.\r
+The princess came in. She had changed her gown for a house dress as\r
+fresh and elegant as the other. Prince Andrew rose and politely placed a\r
+chair for her.\r
+\r
+"How is it," she began, as usual in French, settling down briskly and\r
+fussily in the easy chair, "how is it Annette never got married? How\r
+stupid you men all are not to have married her! Excuse me for saying so,\r
+but you have no sense about women. What an argumentative fellow you are,\r
+Monsieur Pierre!"\r
+\r
+"And I am still arguing with your husband. I can't understand why he\r
+wants to go to the war," replied Pierre, addressing the princess with\r
+none of the embarrassment so commonly shown by young men in their\r
+intercourse with young women.\r
+\r
+The princess started. Evidently Pierre's words touched her to the quick.\r
+\r
+"Ah, that is just what I tell him!" said she. "I don't understand it; I\r
+don't in the least understand why men can't live without wars. How is it\r
+that we women don't want anything of the kind, don't need it? Now you\r
+shall judge between us. I always tell him: Here he is Uncle's aide-de-\r
+camp, a most brilliant position. He is so well known, so much\r
+appreciated by everyone. The other day at the Apraksins' I heard a lady\r
+asking, 'Is that the famous Prince Andrew?' I did indeed." She laughed.\r
+"He is so well received everywhere. He might easily become aide-de-camp\r
+to the Emperor. You know the Emperor spoke to him most graciously.\r
+Annette and I were speaking of how to arrange it. What do you think?"\r
+\r
+Pierre looked at his friend and, noticing that he did not like the\r
+conversation, gave no reply.\r
+\r
+"When are you starting?" he asked.\r
+\r
+"Oh, don't speak of his going, don't! I won't hear it spoken of," said\r
+the princess in the same petulantly playful tone in which she had spoken\r
+to Hippolyte in the drawing room and which was so plainly ill-suited to\r
+the family circle of which Pierre was almost a member. "Today when I\r
+remembered that all these delightful associations must be broken off...\r
+and then you know, Andre..." (she looked significantly at her husband)\r
+"I'm afraid, I'm afraid!" she whispered, and a shudder ran down her\r
+back.\r
+\r
+Her husband looked at her as if surprised to notice that someone besides\r
+Pierre and himself was in the room, and addressed her in a tone of\r
+frigid politeness.\r
+\r
+"What is it you are afraid of, Lise? I don't understand," said he.\r
+\r
+"There, what egotists men all are: all, all egotists! Just for a whim of\r
+his own, goodness only knows why, he leaves me and locks me up alone in\r
+the country."\r
+\r
+"With my father and sister, remember," said Prince Andrew gently.\r
+\r
+"Alone all the same, without my friends.... And he expects me not to be\r
+afraid."\r
+\r
+Her tone was now querulous and her lip drawn up, giving her not a\r
+joyful, but an animal, squirrel-like expression. She paused as if she\r
+felt it indecorous to speak of her pregnancy before Pierre, though the\r
+gist of the matter lay in that.\r
+\r
+"I still can't understand what you are afraid of," said Prince Andrew\r
+slowly, not taking his eyes off his wife.\r
+\r
+The princess blushed, and raised her arms with a gesture of despair.\r
+\r
+"No, Andrew, I must say you have changed. Oh, how you have..."\r
+\r
+"Your doctor tells you to go to bed earlier," said Prince Andrew. "You\r
+had better go."\r
+\r
+The princess said nothing, but suddenly her short downy lip quivered.\r
+Prince Andrew rose, shrugged his shoulders, and walked about the room.\r
+\r
+Pierre looked over his spectacles with naive surprise, now at him and\r
+now at her, moved as if about to rise too, but changed his mind.\r
+\r
+"Why should I mind Monsieur Pierre being here?" exclaimed the little\r
+princess suddenly, her pretty face all at once distorted by a tearful\r
+grimace. "I have long wanted to ask you, Andrew, why you have changed so\r
+to me? What have I done to you? You are going to the war and have no\r
+pity for me. Why is it?"\r
+\r
+"Lise!" was all Prince Andrew said. But that one word expressed an\r
+entreaty, a threat, and above all conviction that she would herself\r
+regret her words. But she went on hurriedly:\r
+\r
+"You treat me like an invalid or a child. I see it all! Did you behave\r
+like that six months ago?"\r
+\r
+"Lise, I beg you to desist," said Prince Andrew still more emphatically.\r
+\r
+Pierre, who had been growing more and more agitated as he listened to\r
+all this, rose and approached the princess. He seemed unable to bear the\r
+sight of tears and was ready to cry himself.\r
+\r
+"Calm yourself, Princess! It seems so to you because... I assure you I\r
+myself have experienced... and so... because... No, excuse me! An\r
+outsider is out of place here... No, don't distress yourself... Good-\r
+bye!"\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew caught him by the hand.\r
+\r
+"No, wait, Pierre! The princess is too kind to wish to deprive me of the\r
+pleasure of spending the evening with you."\r
+\r
+"No, he thinks only of himself," muttered the princess without\r
+restraining her angry tears.\r
+\r
+"Lise!" said Prince Andrew dryly, raising his voice to the pitch which\r
+indicates that patience is exhausted.\r
+\r
+Suddenly the angry, squirrel-like expression of the princess' pretty\r
+face changed into a winning and piteous look of fear. Her beautiful eyes\r
+glanced askance at her husband's face, and her own assumed the timid,\r
+deprecating expression of a dog when it rapidly but feebly wags its\r
+drooping tail.\r
+\r
+"Mon Dieu, mon Dieu!" she muttered, and lifting her dress with one hand\r
+she went up to her husband and kissed him on the forehead.\r
+\r
+"Good night, Lise," said he, rising and courteously kissing her hand as\r
+he would have done to a stranger.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+The friends were silent. Neither cared to begin talking. Pierre\r
+continually glanced at Prince Andrew; Prince Andrew rubbed his forehead\r
+with his small hand.\r
+\r
+"Let us go and have supper," he said with a sigh, going to the door.\r
+\r
+They entered the elegant, newly decorated, and luxurious dining room.\r
+Everything from the table napkins to the silver, china, and glass bore\r
+that imprint of newness found in the households of the newly married.\r
+Halfway through supper Prince Andrew leaned his elbows on the table and,\r
+with a look of nervous agitation such as Pierre had never before seen on\r
+his face, began to talk--as one who has long had something on his mind\r
+and suddenly determines to speak out.\r
+\r
+"Never, never marry, my dear fellow! That's my advice: never marry till\r
+you can say to yourself that you have done all you are capable of, and\r
+until you have ceased to love the woman of your choice and have seen her\r
+plainly as she is, or else you will make a cruel and irrevocable\r
+mistake. Marry when you are old and good for nothing--or all that is\r
+good and noble in you will be lost. It will all be wasted on trifles.\r
+Yes! Yes! Yes! Don't look at me with such surprise. If you marry\r
+expecting anything from yourself in the future, you will feel at every\r
+step that for you all is ended, all is closed except the drawing room,\r
+where you will be ranged side by side with a court lackey and an\r
+idiot!... But what's the good?..." and he waved his arm.\r
+\r
+Pierre took off his spectacles, which made his face seem different and\r
+the good-natured expression still more apparent, and gazed at his friend\r
+in amazement.\r
+\r
+"My wife," continued Prince Andrew, "is an excellent woman, one of those\r
+rare women with whom a man's honor is safe; but, O God, what would I not\r
+give now to be unmarried! You are the first and only one to whom I\r
+mention this, because I like you."\r
+\r
+As he said this Prince Andrew was less than ever like that Bolkonski who\r
+had lolled in Anna Pavlovna's easy chairs and with half-closed eyes had\r
+uttered French phrases between his teeth. Every muscle of his thin face\r
+was now quivering with nervous excitement; his eyes, in which the fire\r
+of life had seemed extinguished, now flashed with brilliant light. It\r
+was evident that the more lifeless he seemed at ordinary times, the more\r
+impassioned he became in these moments of almost morbid irritation.\r
+\r
+"You don't understand why I say this," he continued, "but it is the\r
+whole story of life. You talk of Bonaparte and his career," said he\r
+(though Pierre had not mentioned Bonaparte), "but Bonaparte when he\r
+worked went step by step toward his goal. He was free, he had nothing\r
+but his aim to consider, and he reached it. But tie yourself up with a\r
+woman and, like a chained convict, you lose all freedom! And all you\r
+have of hope and strength merely weighs you down and torments you with\r
+regret. Drawing rooms, gossip, balls, vanity, and triviality--these are\r
+the enchanted circle I cannot escape from. I am now going to the war,\r
+the greatest war there ever was, and I know nothing and am fit for\r
+nothing. I am very amiable and have a caustic wit," continued Prince\r
+Andrew, "and at Anna Pavlovna's they listen to me. And that stupid set\r
+without whom my wife cannot exist, and those women... If you only knew\r
+what those society women are, and women in general! My father is right.\r
+Selfish, vain, stupid, trivial in everything--that's what women are when\r
+you see them in their true colors! When you meet them in society it\r
+seems as if there were something in them, but there's nothing, nothing,\r
+nothing! No, don't marry, my dear fellow; don't marry!" concluded Prince\r
+Andrew.\r
+\r
+"It seems funny to me," said Pierre, "that you, you should consider\r
+yourself incapable and your life a spoiled life. You have everything\r
+before you, everything. And you..."\r
+\r
+He did not finish his sentence, but his tone showed how highly he\r
+thought of his friend and how much he expected of him in the future.\r
+\r
+"How can he talk like that?" thought Pierre. He considered his friend a\r
+model of perfection because Prince Andrew possessed in the highest\r
+degree just the very qualities Pierre lacked, and which might be best\r
+described as strength of will. Pierre was always astonished at Prince\r
+Andrew's calm manner of treating everybody, his extraordinary memory,\r
+his extensive reading (he had read everything, knew everything, and had\r
+an opinion about everything), but above all at his capacity for work and\r
+study. And if Pierre was often struck by Andrew's lack of capacity for\r
+philosophical meditation (to which he himself was particularly\r
+addicted), he regarded even this not as a defect but as a sign of\r
+strength.\r
+\r
+Even in the best, most friendly and simplest relations of life, praise\r
+and commendation are essential, just as grease is necessary to wheels\r
+that they may run smoothly.\r
+\r
+"My part is played out," said Prince Andrew. "What's the use of talking\r
+about me? Let us talk about you," he added after a silence, smiling at\r
+his reassuring thoughts.\r
+\r
+That smile was immediately reflected on Pierre's face.\r
+\r
+"But what is there to say about me?" said Pierre, his face relaxing into\r
+a careless, merry smile. "What am I? An illegitimate son!" He suddenly\r
+blushed crimson, and it was plain that he had made a great effort to say\r
+this. "Without a name and without means... And it really..." But he did\r
+not say what "it really" was. "For the present I am free and am all\r
+right. Only I haven't the least idea what I am to do; I wanted to\r
+consult you seriously."\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew looked kindly at him, yet his glance--friendly and\r
+affectionate as it was--expressed a sense of his own superiority.\r
+\r
+"I am fond of you, especially as you are the one live man among our\r
+whole set. Yes, you're all right! Choose what you will; it's all the\r
+same. You'll be all right anywhere. But look here: give up visiting\r
+those Kuragins and leading that sort of life. It suits you so badly--all\r
+this debauchery, dissipation, and the rest of it!"\r
+\r
+"What would you have, my dear fellow?" answered Pierre, shrugging his\r
+shoulders. "Women, my dear fellow; women!"\r
+\r
+"I don't understand it," replied Prince Andrew. "Women who are comme il\r
+faut, that's a different matter; but the Kuragins' set of women, 'women\r
+and wine' I don't understand!"\r
+\r
+Pierre was staying at Prince Vasili Kuragin's and sharing the dissipated\r
+life of his son Anatole, the son whom they were planning to reform by\r
+marrying him to Prince Andrew's sister.\r
+\r
+"Do you know?" said Pierre, as if suddenly struck by a happy thought,\r
+"seriously, I have long been thinking of it.... Leading such a life I\r
+can't decide or think properly about anything. One's head aches, and one\r
+spends all one's money. He asked me for tonight, but I won't go."\r
+\r
+"You give me your word of honor not to go?"\r
+\r
+"On my honor!"\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+It was past one o'clock when Pierre left his friend. It was a cloudless,\r
+northern, summer night. Pierre took an open cab intending to drive\r
+straight home. But the nearer he drew to the house the more he felt the\r
+impossibility of going to sleep on such a night. It was light enough to\r
+see a long way in the deserted street and it seemed more like morning or\r
+evening than night. On the way Pierre remembered that Anatole Kuragin\r
+was expecting the usual set for cards that evening, after which there\r
+was generally a drinking bout, finishing with visits of a kind Pierre\r
+was very fond of.\r
+\r
+"I should like to go to Kuragin's," thought he.\r
+\r
+But he immediately recalled his promise to Prince Andrew not to go\r
+there. Then, as happens to people of weak character, he desired so\r
+passionately once more to enjoy that dissipation he was so accustomed to\r
+that he decided to go. The thought immediately occurred to him that his\r
+promise to Prince Andrew was of no account, because before he gave it he\r
+had already promised Prince Anatole to come to his gathering; "besides,"\r
+thought he, "all such 'words of honor' are conventional things with no\r
+definite meaning, especially if one considers that by tomorrow one may\r
+be dead, or something so extraordinary may happen to one that honor and\r
+dishonor will be all the same!" Pierre often indulged in reflections of\r
+this sort, nullifying all his decisions and intentions. He went to\r
+Kuragin's.\r
+\r
+Reaching the large house near the Horse Guards' barracks, in which\r
+Anatole lived, Pierre entered the lighted porch, ascended the stairs,\r
+and went in at the open door. There was no one in the anteroom; empty\r
+bottles, cloaks, and overshoes were lying about; there was a smell of\r
+alcohol, and sounds of voices and shouting in the distance.\r
+\r
+Cards and supper were over, but the visitors had not yet dispersed.\r
+Pierre threw off his cloak and entered the first room, in which were the\r
+remains of supper. A footman, thinking no one saw him, was drinking on\r
+the sly what was left in the glasses. From the third room came sounds of\r
+laughter, the shouting of familiar voices, the growling of a bear, and\r
+general commotion. Some eight or nine young men were crowding anxiously\r
+round an open window. Three others were romping with a young bear, one\r
+pulling him by the chain and trying to set him at the others.\r
+\r
+"I bet a hundred on Stevens!" shouted one.\r
+\r
+"Mind, no holding on!" cried another.\r
+\r
+"I bet on Dolokhov!" cried a third. "Kuragin, you part our hands."\r
+\r
+"There, leave Bruin alone; here's a bet on."\r
+\r
+"At one draught, or he loses!" shouted a fourth.\r
+\r
+"Jacob, bring a bottle!" shouted the host, a tall, handsome fellow who\r
+stood in the midst of the group, without a coat, and with his fine linen\r
+shirt unfastened in front. "Wait a bit, you fellows.... Here is Petya!\r
+Good man!" cried he, addressing Pierre.\r
+\r
+Another voice, from a man of medium height with clear blue eyes,\r
+particularly striking among all these drunken voices by its sober ring,\r
+cried from the window: "Come here; part the bets!" This was Dolokhov, an\r
+officer of the Semenov regiment, a notorious gambler and duelist, who\r
+was living with Anatole. Pierre smiled, looking about him merrily.\r
+\r
+"I don't understand. What's it all about?"\r
+\r
+"Wait a bit, he is not drunk yet! A bottle here," said Anatole, taking a\r
+glass from the table he went up to Pierre.\r
+\r
+"First of all you must drink!"\r
+\r
+Pierre drank one glass after another, looking from under his brows at\r
+the tipsy guests who were again crowding round the window, and listening\r
+to their chatter. Anatole kept on refilling Pierre's glass while\r
+explaining that Dolokhov was betting with Stevens, an English naval\r
+officer, that he would drink a bottle of rum sitting on the outer ledge\r
+of the third floor window with his legs hanging out.\r
+\r
+"Go on, you must drink it all," said Anatole, giving Pierre the last\r
+glass, "or I won't let you go!"\r
+\r
+"No, I won't," said Pierre, pushing Anatole aside, and he went up to the\r
+window.\r
+\r
+Dolokhov was holding the Englishman's hand and clearly and distinctly\r
+repeating the terms of the bet, addressing himself particularly to\r
+Anatole and Pierre.\r
+\r
+Dolokhov was of medium height, with curly hair and light-blue eyes. He\r
+was about twenty-five. Like all infantry officers he wore no mustache,\r
+so that his mouth, the most striking feature of his face, was clearly\r
+seen. The lines of that mouth were remarkably finely curved. The middle\r
+of the upper lip formed a sharp wedge and closed firmly on the firm\r
+lower one, and something like two distinct smiles played continually\r
+round the two corners of the mouth; this, together with the resolute,\r
+insolent intelligence of his eyes, produced an effect which made it\r
+impossible not to notice his face. Dolokhov was a man of small means and\r
+no connections. Yet, though Anatole spent tens of thousands of rubles,\r
+Dolokhov lived with him and had placed himself on such a footing that\r
+all who knew them, including Anatole himself, respected him more than\r
+they did Anatole. Dolokhov could play all games and nearly always won.\r
+However much he drank, he never lost his clearheadedness. Both Kuragin\r
+and Dolokhov were at that time notorious among the rakes and scapegraces\r
+of Petersburg.\r
+\r
+The bottle of rum was brought. The window frame which prevented anyone\r
+from sitting on the outer sill was being forced out by two footmen, who\r
+were evidently flurried and intimidated by the directions and shouts of\r
+the gentlemen around.\r
+\r
+Anatole with his swaggering air strode up to the window. He wanted to\r
+smash something. Pushing away the footmen he tugged at the frame, but\r
+could not move it. He smashed a pane.\r
+\r
+"You have a try, Hercules," said he, turning to Pierre.\r
+\r
+Pierre seized the crossbeam, tugged, and wrenched the oak frame out with\r
+a crash.\r
+\r
+"Take it right out, or they'll think I'm holding on," said Dolokhov.\r
+\r
+"Is the Englishman bragging?... Eh? Is it all right?" said Anatole.\r
+\r
+"First-rate," said Pierre, looking at Dolokhov, who with a bottle of rum\r
+in his hand was approaching the window, from which the light of the sky,\r
+the dawn merging with the afterglow of sunset, was visible.\r
+\r
+Dolokhov, the bottle of rum still in his hand, jumped onto the window\r
+sill. "Listen!" cried he, standing there and addressing those in the\r
+room. All were silent.\r
+\r
+"I bet fifty imperials"--he spoke French that the Englishman might\r
+understand him, but he did not speak it very well--"I bet fifty\r
+imperials... or do you wish to make it a hundred?" added he, addressing\r
+the Englishman.\r
+\r
+"No, fifty," replied the latter.\r
+\r
+"All right. Fifty imperials... that I will drink a whole bottle of rum\r
+without taking it from my mouth, sitting outside the window on this\r
+spot" (he stooped and pointed to the sloping ledge outside the window)\r
+"and without holding on to anything. Is that right?"\r
+\r
+"Quite right," said the Englishman.\r
+\r
+Anatole turned to the Englishman and taking him by one of the buttons of\r
+his coat and looking down at him--the Englishman was short--began\r
+repeating the terms of the wager to him in English.\r
+\r
+"Wait!" cried Dolokhov, hammering with the bottle on the window sill to\r
+attract attention. "Wait a bit, Kuragin. Listen! If anyone else does the\r
+same, I will pay him a hundred imperials. Do you understand?"\r
+\r
+The Englishman nodded, but gave no indication whether he intended to\r
+accept this challenge or not. Anatole did not release him, and though he\r
+kept nodding to show that he understood, Anatole went on translating\r
+Dolokhov's words into English. A thin young lad, an hussar of the Life\r
+Guards, who had been losing that evening, climbed on the window sill,\r
+leaned over, and looked down.\r
+\r
+"Oh! Oh! Oh!" he muttered, looking down from the window at the stones of\r
+the pavement.\r
+\r
+"Shut up!" cried Dolokhov, pushing him away from the window. The lad\r
+jumped awkwardly back into the room, tripping over his spurs.\r
+\r
+Placing the bottle on the window sill where he could reach it easily,\r
+Dolokhov climbed carefully and slowly through the window and lowered his\r
+legs. Pressing against both sides of the window, he adjusted himself on\r
+his seat, lowered his hands, moved a little to the right and then to the\r
+left, and took up the bottle. Anatole brought two candles and placed\r
+them on the window sill, though it was already quite light. Dolokhov's\r
+back in his white shirt, and his curly head, were lit up from both\r
+sides. Everyone crowded to the window, the Englishman in front. Pierre\r
+stood smiling but silent. One man, older than the others present,\r
+suddenly pushed forward with a scared and angry look and wanted to seize\r
+hold of Dolokhov's shirt.\r
+\r
+"I say, this is folly! He'll be killed," said this more sensible man.\r
+\r
+Anatole stopped him.\r
+\r
+"Don't touch him! You'll startle him and then he'll be killed. Eh?...\r
+What then?... Eh?"\r
+\r
+Dolokhov turned round and, again holding on with both hands, arranged\r
+himself on his seat.\r
+\r
+"If anyone comes meddling again," said he, emitting the words separately\r
+through his thin compressed lips, "I will throw him down there. Now\r
+then!"\r
+\r
+Saying this he again turned round, dropped his hands, took the bottle\r
+and lifted it to his lips, threw back his head, and raised his free hand\r
+to balance himself. One of the footmen who had stooped to pick up some\r
+broken glass remained in that position without taking his eyes from the\r
+window and from Dolokhov's back. Anatole stood erect with staring eyes.\r
+The Englishman looked on sideways, pursing up his lips. The man who had\r
+wished to stop the affair ran to a corner of the room and threw himself\r
+on a sofa with his face to the wall. Pierre hid his face, from which a\r
+faint smile forgot to fade though his features now expressed horror and\r
+fear. All were still. Pierre took his hands from his eyes. Dolokhov\r
+still sat in the same position, only his head was thrown further back\r
+till his curly hair touched his shirt collar, and the hand holding the\r
+bottle was lifted higher and higher and trembled with the effort. The\r
+bottle was emptying perceptibly and rising still higher and his head\r
+tilting yet further back. "Why is it so long?" thought Pierre. It seemed\r
+to him that more than half an hour had elapsed. Suddenly Dolokhov made a\r
+backward movement with his spine, and his arm trembled nervously; this\r
+was sufficient to cause his whole body to slip as he sat on the sloping\r
+ledge. As he began slipping down, his head and arm wavered still more\r
+with the strain. One hand moved as if to clutch the window sill, but\r
+refrained from touching it. Pierre again covered his eyes and thought he\r
+would never open them again. Suddenly he was aware of a stir all around.\r
+He looked up: Dolokhov was standing on the window sill, with a pale but\r
+radiant face.\r
+\r
+"It's empty."\r
+\r
+He threw the bottle to the Englishman, who caught it neatly. Dolokhov\r
+jumped down. He smelt strongly of rum.\r
+\r
+"Well done!... Fine fellow!... There's a bet for you!... Devil take\r
+you!" came from different sides.\r
+\r
+The Englishman took out his purse and began counting out the money.\r
+Dolokhov stood frowning and did not speak. Pierre jumped upon the window\r
+sill.\r
+\r
+"Gentlemen, who wishes to bet with me? I'll do the same thing!" he\r
+suddenly cried. "Even without a bet, there! Tell them to bring me a\r
+bottle. I'll do it.... Bring a bottle!"\r
+\r
+"Let him do it, let him do it," said Dolokhov, smiling.\r
+\r
+"What next? Have you gone mad?... No one would let you!... Why, you go\r
+giddy even on a staircase," exclaimed several voices.\r
+\r
+"I'll drink it! Let's have a bottle of rum!" shouted Pierre, banging the\r
+table with a determined and drunken gesture and preparing to climb out\r
+of the window.\r
+\r
+They seized him by his arms; but he was so strong that everyone who\r
+touched him was sent flying.\r
+\r
+"No, you'll never manage him that way," said Anatole. "Wait a bit and\r
+I'll get round him.... Listen! I'll take your bet tomorrow, but now we\r
+are all going to ----'s."\r
+\r
+"Come on then," cried Pierre. "Come on!... And we'll take Bruin with\r
+us."\r
+\r
+And he caught the bear, took it in his arms, lifted it from the ground,\r
+and began dancing round the room with it.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+Prince Vasili kept the promise he had given to Princess Drubetskaya who\r
+had spoken to him on behalf of her only son Boris on the evening of Anna\r
+Pavlovna's soiree. The matter was mentioned to the Emperor, an exception\r
+made, and Boris transferred into the regiment of Semenov Guards with the\r
+rank of cornet. He received, however, no appointment to Kutuzov's staff\r
+despite all Anna Mikhaylovna's endeavors and entreaties. Soon after Anna\r
+Pavlovna's reception Anna Mikhaylovna returned to Moscow and went\r
+straight to her rich relations, the Rostovs, with whom she stayed when\r
+in the town and where her darling Bory, who had only just entered a\r
+regiment of the line and was being at once transferred to the Guards as\r
+a cornet, had been educated from childhood and lived for years at a\r
+time. The Guards had already left Petersburg on the tenth of August, and\r
+her son, who had remained in Moscow for his equipment, was to join them\r
+on the march to Radzivilov.\r
+\r
+It was St. Natalia's day and the name day of two of the Rostovs--the\r
+mother and the youngest daughter--both named Nataly. Ever since the\r
+morning, carriages with six horses had been coming and going\r
+continually, bringing visitors to the Countess Rostova's big house on\r
+the Povarskaya, so well known to all Moscow. The countess herself and\r
+her handsome eldest daughter were in the drawing-room with the visitors\r
+who came to congratulate, and who constantly succeeded one another in\r
+relays.\r
+\r
+The countess was a woman of about forty-five, with a thin Oriental type\r
+of face, evidently worn out with childbearing--she had had twelve. A\r
+languor of motion and speech, resulting from weakness, gave her a\r
+distinguished air which inspired respect. Princess Anna Mikhaylovna\r
+Drubetskaya, who as a member of the household was also seated in the\r
+drawing room, helped to receive and entertain the visitors. The young\r
+people were in one of the inner rooms, not considering it necessary to\r
+take part in receiving the visitors. The count met the guests and saw\r
+them off, inviting them all to dinner.\r
+\r
+"I am very, very grateful to you, mon cher," or "ma chere"--he called\r
+everyone without exception and without the slightest variation in his\r
+tone, "my dear," whether they were above or below him in rank--"I thank\r
+you for myself and for our two dear ones whose name day we are keeping.\r
+But mind you come to dinner or I shall be offended, ma chere! On behalf\r
+of the whole family I beg you to come, mon cher!" These words he\r
+repeated to everyone without exception or variation, and with the same\r
+expression on his full, cheerful, clean-shaven face, the same firm\r
+pressure of the hand and the same quick, repeated bows. As soon as he\r
+had seen a visitor off he returned to one of those who were still in the\r
+drawing room, drew a chair toward him or her, and jauntily spreading out\r
+his legs and putting his hands on his knees with the air of a man who\r
+enjoys life and knows how to live, he swayed to and fro with dignity,\r
+offered surmises about the weather, or touched on questions of health,\r
+sometimes in Russian and sometimes in very bad but self-confident\r
+French; then again, like a man weary but unflinching in the fulfillment\r
+of duty, he rose to see some visitors off and, stroking his scanty gray\r
+hairs over his bald patch, also asked them to dinner. Sometimes on his\r
+way back from the anteroom he would pass through the conservatory and\r
+pantry into the large marble dining hall, where tables were being set\r
+out for eighty people; and looking at the footmen, who were bringing in\r
+silver and china, moving tables, and unfolding damask table linen, he\r
+would call Dmitri Vasilevich, a man of good family and the manager of\r
+all his affairs, and while looking with pleasure at the enormous table\r
+would say: "Well, Dmitri, you'll see that things are all as they should\r
+be? That's right! The great thing is the serving, that's it." And with a\r
+complacent sigh he would return to the drawing room.\r
+\r
+"Marya Lvovna Karagina and her daughter!" announced the countess'\r
+gigantic footman in his bass voice, entering the drawing room. The\r
+countess reflected a moment and took a pinch from a gold snuffbox with\r
+her husband's portrait on it.\r
+\r
+"I'm quite worn out by these callers. However, I'll see her and no more.\r
+She is so affected. Ask her in," she said to the footman in a sad voice,\r
+as if saying: "Very well, finish me off."\r
+\r
+A tall, stout, and proud-looking woman, with a round-faced smiling\r
+daughter, entered the drawing room, their dresses rustling.\r
+\r
+"Dear Countess, what an age... She has been laid up, poor child... at\r
+the Razumovski's ball... and Countess Apraksina... I was so\r
+delighted..." came the sounds of animated feminine voices, interrupting\r
+one another and mingling with the rustling of dresses and the scraping\r
+of chairs. Then one of those conversations began which last out until,\r
+at the first pause, the guests rise with a rustle of dresses and say, "I\r
+am so delighted... Mamma's health... and Countess Apraksina..." and\r
+then, again rustling, pass into the anteroom, put on cloaks or mantles,\r
+and drive away. The conversation was on the chief topic of the day: the\r
+illness of the wealthy and celebrated beau of Catherine's day, Count\r
+Bezukhov, and about his illegitimate son Pierre, the one who had behaved\r
+so improperly at Anna Pavlovna's reception.\r
+\r
+"I am so sorry for the poor count," said the visitor. "He is in such bad\r
+health, and now this vexation about his son is enough to kill him!"\r
+\r
+"What is that?" asked the countess as if she did not know what the\r
+visitor alluded to, though she had already heard about the cause of\r
+Count Bezukhov's distress some fifteen times.\r
+\r
+"That's what comes of a modern education," exclaimed the visitor. "It\r
+seems that while he was abroad this young man was allowed to do as he\r
+liked, now in Petersburg I hear he has been doing such terrible things\r
+that he has been expelled by the police."\r
+\r
+"You don't say so!" replied the countess.\r
+\r
+"He chose his friends badly," interposed Anna Mikhaylovna. "Prince\r
+Vasili's son, he, and a certain Dolokhov have, it is said, been up to\r
+heaven only knows what! And they have had to suffer for it. Dolokhov has\r
+been degraded to the ranks and Bezukhov's son sent back to Moscow.\r
+Anatole Kuragin's father managed somehow to get his son's affair hushed\r
+up, but even he was ordered out of Petersburg."\r
+\r
+"But what have they been up to?" asked the countess.\r
+\r
+"They are regular brigands, especially Dolokhov," replied the visitor.\r
+"He is a son of Marya Ivanovna Dolokhova, such a worthy woman, but\r
+there, just fancy! Those three got hold of a bear somewhere, put it in a\r
+carriage, and set off with it to visit some actresses! The police tried\r
+to interfere, and what did the young men do? They tied a policeman and\r
+the bear back to back and put the bear into the Moyka Canal. And there\r
+was the bear swimming about with the policeman on his back!"\r
+\r
+"What a nice figure the policeman must have cut, my dear!" shouted the\r
+count, dying with laughter.\r
+\r
+"Oh, how dreadful! How can you laugh at it, Count?"\r
+\r
+Yet the ladies themselves could not help laughing.\r
+\r
+"It was all they could do to rescue the poor man," continued the\r
+visitor. "And to think it is Cyril Vladimirovich Bezukhov's son who\r
+amuses himself in this sensible manner! And he was said to be so well\r
+educated and clever. This is all that his foreign education has done for\r
+him! I hope that here in Moscow no one will receive him, in spite of his\r
+money. They wanted to introduce him to me, but I quite declined: I have\r
+my daughters to consider."\r
+\r
+"Why do you say this young man is so rich?" asked the countess, turning\r
+away from the girls, who at once assumed an air of inattention. "His\r
+children are all illegitimate. I think Pierre also is illegitimate."\r
+\r
+The visitor made a gesture with her hand.\r
+\r
+"I should think he has a score of them."\r
+\r
+Princess Anna Mikhaylovna intervened in the conversation, evidently\r
+wishing to show her connections and knowledge of what went on in\r
+society.\r
+\r
+"The fact of the matter is," said she significantly, and also in a half\r
+whisper, "everyone knows Count Cyril's reputation.... He has lost count\r
+of his children, but this Pierre was his favorite."\r
+\r
+"How handsome the old man still was only a year ago!" remarked the\r
+countess. "I have never seen a handsomer man."\r
+\r
+"He is very much altered now," said Anna Mikhaylovna. "Well, as I was\r
+saying, Prince Vasili is the next heir through his wife, but the count\r
+is very fond of Pierre, looked after his education, and wrote to the\r
+Emperor about him; so that in the case of his death--and he is so ill\r
+that he may die at any moment, and Dr. Lorrain has come from Petersburg-\r
+-no one knows who will inherit his immense fortune, Pierre or Prince\r
+Vasili. Forty thousand serfs and millions of rubles! I know it all very\r
+well for Prince Vasili told me himself. Besides, Cyril Vladimirovich is\r
+my mother's second cousin. He's also my Bory's godfather," she added, as\r
+if she attached no importance at all to the fact.\r
+\r
+"Prince Vasili arrived in Moscow yesterday. I hear he has come on some\r
+inspection business," remarked the visitor.\r
+\r
+"Yes, but between ourselves," said the princess, "that is a pretext. The\r
+fact is he has come to see Count Cyril Vladimirovich, hearing how ill he\r
+is."\r
+\r
+"But do you know, my dear, that was a capital joke," said the count; and\r
+seeing that the elder visitor was not listening, he turned to the young\r
+ladies. "I can just imagine what a funny figure that policeman cut!"\r
+\r
+And as he waved his arms to impersonate the policeman, his portly form\r
+again shook with a deep ringing laugh, the laugh of one who always eats\r
+well and, in particular, drinks well. "So do come and dine with us!" he\r
+said.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+Silence ensued. The countess looked at her callers, smiling affably, but\r
+not concealing the fact that she would not be distressed if they now\r
+rose and took their leave. The visitor's daughter was already smoothing\r
+down her dress with an inquiring look at her mother, when suddenly from\r
+the next room were heard the footsteps of boys and girls running to the\r
+door and the noise of a chair falling over, and a girl of thirteen,\r
+hiding something in the folds of her short muslin frock, darted in and\r
+stopped short in the middle of the room. It was evident that she had not\r
+intended her flight to bring her so far. Behind her in the doorway\r
+appeared a student with a crimson coat collar, an officer of the Guards,\r
+a girl of fifteen, and a plump rosy-faced boy in a short jacket.\r
+\r
+The count jumped up and, swaying from side to side, spread his arms wide\r
+and threw them round the little girl who had run in.\r
+\r
+"Ah, here she is!" he exclaimed laughing. "My pet, whose name day it is.\r
+My dear pet!"\r
+\r
+"Ma chere, there is a time for everything," said the countess with\r
+feigned severity. "You spoil her, Ilya," she added, turning to her\r
+husband.\r
+\r
+"How do you do, my dear? I wish you many happy returns of your name\r
+day," said the visitor. "What a charming child," she added, addressing\r
+the mother.\r
+\r
+This black-eyed, wide-mouthed girl, not pretty but full of life--with\r
+childish bare shoulders which after her run heaved and shook her bodice,\r
+with black curls tossed backward, thin bare arms, little legs in lace-\r
+frilled drawers, and feet in low slippers--was just at that charming age\r
+when a girl is no longer a child, though the child is not yet a young\r
+woman. Escaping from her father she ran to hide her flushed face in the\r
+lace of her mother's mantilla--not paying the least attention to her\r
+severe remark--and began to laugh. She laughed, and in fragmentary\r
+sentences tried to explain about a doll which she produced from the\r
+folds of her frock.\r
+\r
+"Do you see?... My doll... Mimi... You see..." was all Natasha managed\r
+to utter (to her everything seemed funny). She leaned against her mother\r
+and burst into such a loud, ringing fit of laughter that even the prim\r
+visitor could not help joining in.\r
+\r
+"Now then, go away and take your monstrosity with you," said the mother,\r
+pushing away her daughter with pretended sternness, and turning to the\r
+visitor she added: "She is my youngest girl."\r
+\r
+Natasha, raising her face for a moment from her mother's mantilla,\r
+glanced up at her through tears of laughter, and again hid her face.\r
+\r
+The visitor, compelled to look on at this family scene, thought it\r
+necessary to take some part in it.\r
+\r
+"Tell me, my dear," said she to Natasha, "is Mimi a relation of yours? A\r
+daughter, I suppose?"\r
+\r
+Natasha did not like the visitor's tone of condescension to childish\r
+things. She did not reply, but looked at her seriously.\r
+\r
+Meanwhile the younger generation: Boris, the officer, Anna Mikhaylovna's\r
+son; Nicholas, the undergraduate, the count's eldest son; Sonya, the\r
+count's fifteen-year-old niece, and little Petya, his youngest boy, had\r
+all settled down in the drawing room and were obviously trying to\r
+restrain within the bounds of decorum the excitement and mirth that\r
+shone in all their faces. Evidently in the back rooms, from which they\r
+had dashed out so impetuously, the conversation had been more amusing\r
+than the drawing-room talk of society scandals, the weather, and\r
+Countess Apraksina. Now and then they glanced at one another, hardly\r
+able to suppress their laughter.\r
+\r
+The two young men, the student and the officer, friends from childhood,\r
+were of the same age and both handsome fellows, though not alike. Boris\r
+was tall and fair, and his calm and handsome face had regular, delicate\r
+features. Nicholas was short with curly hair and an open expression.\r
+Dark hairs were already showing on his upper lip, and his whole face\r
+expressed impetuosity and enthusiasm. Nicholas blushed when he entered\r
+the drawing room. He evidently tried to find something to say, but\r
+failed. Boris on the contrary at once found his footing, and related\r
+quietly and humorously how he had known that doll Mimi when she was\r
+still quite a young lady, before her nose was broken; how she had aged\r
+during the five years he had known her, and how her head had cracked\r
+right across the skull. Having said this he glanced at Natasha. She\r
+turned away from him and glanced at her younger brother, who was\r
+screwing up his eyes and shaking with suppressed laughter, and unable to\r
+control herself any longer, she jumped up and rushed from the room as\r
+fast as her nimble little feet would carry her. Boris did not laugh.\r
+\r
+"You were meaning to go out, weren't you, Mamma? Do you want the\r
+carriage?" he asked his mother with a smile.\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes, go and tell them to get it ready," she answered, returning\r
+his smile.\r
+\r
+Boris quietly left the room and went in search of Natasha. The plump boy\r
+ran after them angrily, as if vexed that their program had been\r
+disturbed.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+The only young people remaining in the drawing room, not counting the\r
+young lady visitor and the countess' eldest daughter (who was four years\r
+older than her sister and behaved already like a grown-up person), were\r
+Nicholas and Sonya, the niece. Sonya was a slender little brunette with\r
+a tender look in her eyes which were veiled by long lashes, thick black\r
+plaits coiling twice round her head, and a tawny tint in her complexion\r
+and especially in the color of her slender but graceful and muscular\r
+arms and neck. By the grace of her movements, by the softness and\r
+flexibility of her small limbs, and by a certain coyness and reserve of\r
+manner, she reminded one of a pretty, half-grown kitten which promises\r
+to become a beautiful little cat. She evidently considered it proper to\r
+show an interest in the general conversation by smiling, but in spite of\r
+herself her eyes under their thick long lashes watched her cousin who\r
+was going to join the army, with such passionate girlish adoration that\r
+her smile could not for a single instant impose upon anyone, and it was\r
+clear that the kitten had settled down only to spring up with more\r
+energy and again play with her cousin as soon as they too could, like\r
+Natasha and Boris, escape from the drawing room.\r
+\r
+"Ah yes, my dear," said the count, addressing the visitor and pointing\r
+to Nicholas, "his friend Boris has become an officer, and so for\r
+friendship's sake he is leaving the university and me, his old father,\r
+and entering the military service, my dear. And there was a place and\r
+everything waiting for him in the Archives Department! Isn't that\r
+friendship?" remarked the count in an inquiring tone.\r
+\r
+"But they say that war has been declared," replied the visitor.\r
+\r
+"They've been saying so a long while," said the count, "and they'll say\r
+so again and again, and that will be the end of it. My dear, there's\r
+friendship for you," he repeated. "He's joining the hussars."\r
+\r
+The visitor, not knowing what to say, shook her head.\r
+\r
+"It's not at all from friendship," declared Nicholas, flaring up and\r
+turning away as if from a shameful aspersion. "It is not from friendship\r
+at all; I simply feel that the army is my vocation."\r
+\r
+He glanced at his cousin and the young lady visitor; and they were both\r
+regarding him with a smile of approbation.\r
+\r
+"Schubert, the colonel of the Pavlograd Hussars, is dining with us\r
+today. He has been here on leave and is taking Nicholas back with him.\r
+It can't be helped!" said the count, shrugging his shoulders and\r
+speaking playfully of a matter that evidently distressed him.\r
+\r
+"I have already told you, Papa," said his son, "that if you don't wish\r
+to let me go, I'll stay. But I know I am no use anywhere except in the\r
+army; I am not a diplomat or a government clerk.--I don't know how to\r
+hide what I feel." As he spoke he kept glancing with the flirtatiousness\r
+of a handsome youth at Sonya and the young lady visitor.\r
+\r
+The little kitten, feasting her eyes on him, seemed ready at any moment\r
+to start her gambols again and display her kittenish nature.\r
+\r
+"All right, all right!" said the old count. "He always flares up! This\r
+Buonaparte has turned all their heads; they all think of how he rose\r
+from an ensign and became Emperor. Well, well, God grant it," he added,\r
+not noticing his visitor's sarcastic smile.\r
+\r
+The elders began talking about Bonaparte. Julie Karagina turned to young\r
+Rostov.\r
+\r
+"What a pity you weren't at the Arkharovs' on Thursday. It was so dull\r
+without you," said she, giving him a tender smile.\r
+\r
+The young man, flattered, sat down nearer to her with a coquettish\r
+smile, and engaged the smiling Julie in a confidential conversation\r
+without at all noticing that his involuntary smile had stabbed the heart\r
+of Sonya, who blushed and smiled unnaturally. In the midst of his talk\r
+he glanced round at her. She gave him a passionately angry glance, and\r
+hardly able to restrain her tears and maintain the artificial smile on\r
+her lips, she got up and left the room. All Nicholas' animation\r
+vanished. He waited for the first pause in the conversation, and then\r
+with a distressed face left the room to find Sonya.\r
+\r
+"How plainly all these young people wear their hearts on their sleeves!"\r
+said Anna Mikhaylovna, pointing to Nicholas as he went out. "Cousinage--\r
+dangereux voisinage;" * she added.\r
+\r
+\r
+* Cousinhood is a dangerous neighborhood.\r
+\r
+"Yes," said the countess when the brightness these young people had\r
+brought into the room had vanished; and as if answering a question no\r
+one had put but which was always in her mind, "and how much suffering,\r
+how much anxiety one has had to go through that we might rejoice in them\r
+now! And yet really the anxiety is greater now than the joy. One is\r
+always, always anxious! Especially just at this age, so dangerous both\r
+for girls and boys."\r
+\r
+"It all depends on the bringing up," remarked the visitor.\r
+\r
+"Yes, you're quite right," continued the countess. "Till now I have\r
+always, thank God, been my children's friend and had their full\r
+confidence," said she, repeating the mistake of so many parents who\r
+imagine that their children have no secrets from them. "I know I shall\r
+always be my daughters' first confidante, and that if Nicholas, with his\r
+impulsive nature, does get into mischief (a boy can't help it), he will\r
+all the same never be like those Petersburg young men."\r
+\r
+"Yes, they are splendid, splendid youngsters," chimed in the count, who\r
+always solved questions that seemed to him perplexing by deciding that\r
+everything was splendid. "Just fancy: wants to be an hussar. What's one\r
+to do, my dear?"\r
+\r
+"What a charming creature your younger girl is," said the visitor; "a\r
+little volcano!"\r
+\r
+"Yes, a regular volcano," said the count. "Takes after me! And what a\r
+voice she has; though she's my daughter, I tell the truth when I say\r
+she'll be a singer, a second Salomoni! We have engaged an Italian to\r
+give her lessons."\r
+\r
+"Isn't she too young? I have heard that it harms the voice to train it\r
+at that age."\r
+\r
+"Oh no, not at all too young!" replied the count. "Why, our mothers used\r
+to be married at twelve or thirteen."\r
+\r
+"And she's in love with Boris already. Just fancy!" said the countess\r
+with a gentle smile, looking at Boris and went on, evidently concerned\r
+with a thought that always occupied her: "Now you see if I were to be\r
+severe with her and to forbid it... goodness knows what they might be up\r
+to on the sly" (she meant that they would be kissing), "but as it is, I\r
+know every word she utters. She will come running to me of her own\r
+accord in the evening and tell me everything. Perhaps I spoil her, but\r
+really that seems the best plan. With her elder sister I was stricter."\r
+\r
+"Yes, I was brought up quite differently," remarked the handsome elder\r
+daughter, Countess Vera, with a smile.\r
+\r
+But the smile did not enhance Vera's beauty as smiles generally do; on\r
+the contrary it gave her an unnatural, and therefore unpleasant,\r
+expression. Vera was good-looking, not at all stupid, quick at learning,\r
+was well-brought up, and had a pleasant voice; what she said was true\r
+and appropriate, yet, strange to say, everyone--the visitors and\r
+countess alike--turned to look at her as if wondering why she had said\r
+it, and they all felt awkward.\r
+\r
+"People are always too clever with their eldest children and try to make\r
+something exceptional of them," said the visitor.\r
+\r
+"What's the good of denying it, my dear? Our dear countess was too\r
+clever with Vera," said the count. "Well, what of that? She's turned out\r
+splendidly all the same," he added, winking at Vera.\r
+\r
+The guests got up and took their leave, promising to return to dinner.\r
+\r
+"What manners! I thought they would never go," said the countess, when\r
+she had seen her guests out.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIII\r
+\r
+When Natasha ran out of the drawing room she only went as far as the\r
+conservatory. There she paused and stood listening to the conversation\r
+in the drawing room, waiting for Boris to come out. She was already\r
+growing impatient, and stamped her foot, ready to cry at his not coming\r
+at once, when she heard the young man's discreet steps approaching\r
+neither quickly nor slowly. At this Natasha dashed swiftly among the\r
+flower tubs and hid there.\r
+\r
+Boris paused in the middle of the room, looked round, brushed a little\r
+dust from the sleeve of his uniform, and going up to a mirror examined\r
+his handsome face. Natasha, very still, peered out from her ambush,\r
+waiting to see what he would do. He stood a little while before the\r
+glass, smiled, and walked toward the other door. Natasha was about to\r
+call him but changed her mind. "Let him look for me," thought she.\r
+Hardly had Boris gone than Sonya, flushed, in tears, and muttering\r
+angrily, came in at the other door. Natasha checked her first impulse to\r
+run out to her, and remained in her hiding place, watching--as under an\r
+invisible cap--to see what went on in the world. She was experiencing a\r
+new and peculiar pleasure. Sonya, muttering to herself, kept looking\r
+round toward the drawing-room door. It opened and Nicholas came in.\r
+\r
+"Sonya, what is the matter with you? How can you?" said he, running up\r
+to her.\r
+\r
+"It's nothing, nothing; leave me alone!" sobbed Sonya.\r
+\r
+"Ah, I know what it is."\r
+\r
+"Well, if you do, so much the better, and you can go back to her!"\r
+\r
+"So-o-onya! Look here! How can you torture me and yourself like that,\r
+for a mere fancy?" said Nicholas taking her hand.\r
+\r
+Sonya did not pull it away, and left off crying. Natasha, not stirring\r
+and scarcely breathing, watched from her ambush with sparkling eyes.\r
+"What will happen now?" thought she.\r
+\r
+"Sonya! What is anyone in the world to me? You alone are everything!"\r
+said Nicholas. "And I will prove it to you."\r
+\r
+"I don't like you to talk like that."\r
+\r
+"Well, then, I won't; only forgive me, Sonya!" He drew her to him and\r
+kissed her.\r
+\r
+"Oh, how nice," thought Natasha; and when Sonya and Nicholas had gone\r
+out of the conservatory she followed and called Boris to her.\r
+\r
+"Boris, come here," said she with a sly and significant look. "I have\r
+something to tell you. Here, here!" and she led him into the\r
+conservatory to the place among the tubs where she had been hiding.\r
+\r
+Boris followed her, smiling.\r
+\r
+"What is the something?" asked he.\r
+\r
+She grew confused, glanced round, and, seeing the doll she had thrown\r
+down on one of the tubs, picked it up.\r
+\r
+"Kiss the doll," said she.\r
+\r
+Boris looked attentively and kindly at her eager face, but did not\r
+reply.\r
+\r
+"Don't you want to? Well, then, come here," said she, and went further\r
+in among the plants and threw down the doll. "Closer, closer!" she\r
+whispered.\r
+\r
+She caught the young officer by his cuffs, and a look of solemnity and\r
+fear appeared on her flushed face.\r
+\r
+"And me? Would you like to kiss me?" she whispered almost inaudibly,\r
+glancing up at him from under her brows, smiling, and almost crying from\r
+excitement.\r
+\r
+Boris blushed.\r
+\r
+"How funny you are!" he said, bending down to her and blushing still\r
+more, but he waited and did nothing.\r
+\r
+Suddenly she jumped up onto a tub to be higher than he, embraced him so\r
+that both her slender bare arms clasped him above his neck, and, tossing\r
+back her hair, kissed him full on the lips.\r
+\r
+Then she slipped down among the flowerpots on the other side of the tubs\r
+and stood, hanging her head.\r
+\r
+"Natasha," he said, "you know that I love you, but..."\r
+\r
+"You are in love with me?" Natasha broke in.\r
+\r
+"Yes, I am, but please don't let us do like that.... In another four\r
+years... then I will ask for your hand."\r
+\r
+Natasha considered.\r
+\r
+"Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen," she counted on her slender\r
+little fingers. "All right! Then it's settled?"\r
+\r
+A smile of joy and satisfaction lit up her eager face.\r
+\r
+"Settled!" replied Boris.\r
+\r
+"Forever?" said the little girl. "Till death itself?"\r
+\r
+She took his arm and with a happy face went with him into the adjoining\r
+sitting room.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIV\r
+\r
+After receiving her visitors, the countess was so tired that she gave\r
+orders to admit no more, but the porter was told to be sure to invite to\r
+dinner all who came "to congratulate." The countess wished to have a\r
+tête-à -tête talk with the friend of her childhood, Princess Anna\r
+Mikhaylovna, whom she had not seen properly since she returned from\r
+Petersburg. Anna Mikhaylovna, with her tear-worn but pleasant face, drew\r
+her chair nearer to that of the countess.\r
+\r
+"With you I will be quite frank," said Anna Mikhaylovna. "There are not\r
+many left of us old friends! That's why I so value your friendship."\r
+\r
+Anna Mikhaylovna looked at Vera and paused. The countess pressed her\r
+friend's hand.\r
+\r
+"Vera," she said to her eldest daughter who was evidently not a\r
+favorite, "how is it you have so little tact? Don't you see you are not\r
+wanted here? Go to the other girls, or..."\r
+\r
+The handsome Vera smiled contemptuously but did not seem at all hurt.\r
+\r
+"If you had told me sooner, Mamma, I would have gone," she replied as\r
+she rose to go to her own room.\r
+\r
+But as she passed the sitting room she noticed two couples sitting, one\r
+pair at each window. She stopped and smiled scornfully. Sonya was\r
+sitting close to Nicholas who was copying out some verses for her, the\r
+first he had ever written. Boris and Natasha were at the other window\r
+and ceased talking when Vera entered. Sonya and Natasha looked at Vera\r
+with guilty, happy faces.\r
+\r
+It was pleasant and touching to see these little girls in love; but\r
+apparently the sight of them roused no pleasant feeling in Vera.\r
+\r
+"How often have I asked you not to take my things?" she said. "You have\r
+a room of your own," and she took the inkstand from Nicholas.\r
+\r
+"In a minute, in a minute," he said, dipping his pen.\r
+\r
+"You always manage to do things at the wrong time," continued Vera. "You\r
+came rushing into the drawing room so that everyone felt ashamed of\r
+you."\r
+\r
+Though what she said was quite just, perhaps for that very reason no one\r
+replied, and the four simply looked at one another. She lingered in the\r
+room with the inkstand in her hand.\r
+\r
+"And at your age what secrets can there be between Natasha and Boris, or\r
+between you two? It's all nonsense!"\r
+\r
+"Now, Vera, what does it matter to you?" said Natasha in defense,\r
+speaking very gently.\r
+\r
+She seemed that day to be more than ever kind and affectionate to\r
+everyone.\r
+\r
+"Very silly," said Vera. "I am ashamed of you. Secrets indeed!"\r
+\r
+"All have secrets of their own," answered Natasha, getting warmer. "We\r
+don't interfere with you and Berg."\r
+\r
+"I should think not," said Vera, "because there can never be anything\r
+wrong in my behavior. But I'll just tell Mamma how you are behaving with\r
+Boris."\r
+\r
+"Natalya Ilynichna behaves very well to me," remarked Boris. "I have\r
+nothing to complain of."\r
+\r
+"Don't, Boris! You are such a diplomat that it is really tiresome," said\r
+Natasha in a mortified voice that trembled slightly. (She used the word\r
+"diplomat," which was just then much in vogue among the children, in the\r
+special sense they attached to it.) "Why does she bother me?" And she\r
+added, turning to Vera, "You'll never understand it, because you've\r
+never loved anyone. You have no heart! You are a Madame de Genlis and\r
+nothing more" (this nickname, bestowed on Vera by Nicholas, was\r
+considered very stinging), "and your greatest pleasure is to be\r
+unpleasant to people! Go and flirt with Berg as much as you please," she\r
+finished quickly.\r
+\r
+"I shall at any rate not run after a young man before visitors..."\r
+\r
+"Well, now you've done what you wanted," put in Nicholas--"said\r
+unpleasant things to everyone and upset them. Let's go to the nursery."\r
+\r
+All four, like a flock of scared birds, got up and left the room.\r
+\r
+"The unpleasant things were said to me," remarked Vera, "I said none to\r
+anyone."\r
+\r
+"Madame de Genlis! Madame de Genlis!" shouted laughing voices through\r
+the door.\r
+\r
+The handsome Vera, who produced such an irritating and unpleasant effect\r
+on everyone, smiled and, evidently unmoved by what had been said to her,\r
+went to the looking glass and arranged her hair and scarf. Looking at\r
+her own handsome face she seemed to become still colder and calmer.\r
+\r
+In the drawing room the conversation was still going on.\r
+\r
+"Ah, my dear," said the countess, "my life is not all roses either.\r
+Don't I know that at the rate we are living our means won't last long?\r
+It's all the Club and his easygoing nature. Even in the country do we\r
+get any rest? Theatricals, hunting, and heaven knows what besides! But\r
+don't let's talk about me; tell me how you managed everything. I often\r
+wonder at you, Annette--how at your age you can rush off alone in a\r
+carriage to Moscow, to Petersburg, to those ministers and great people,\r
+and know how to deal with them all! It's quite astonishing. How did you\r
+get things settled? I couldn't possibly do it."\r
+\r
+"Ah, my love," answered Anna Mikhaylovna, "God grant you never know what\r
+it is to be left a widow without means and with a son you love to\r
+distraction! One learns many things then," she added with a certain\r
+pride. "That lawsuit taught me much. When I want to see one of those big\r
+people I write a note: 'Princess So-and-So desires an interview with So\r
+and-So,' and then I take a cab and go myself two, three, or four times--\r
+till I get what I want. I don't mind what they think of me."\r
+\r
+"Well, and to whom did you apply about Bory?" asked the countess. "You\r
+see yours is already an officer in the Guards, while my Nicholas is\r
+going as a cadet. There's no one to interest himself for him. To whom\r
+did you apply?"\r
+\r
+"To Prince Vasili. He was so kind. He at once agreed to everything, and\r
+put the matter before the Emperor," said Princess Anna Mikhaylovna\r
+enthusiastically, quite forgetting all the humiliation she had endured\r
+to gain her end.\r
+\r
+"Has Prince Vasili aged much?" asked the countess. "I have not seen him\r
+since we acted together at the Rumyantsovs' theatricals. I expect he has\r
+forgotten me. He paid me attentions in those days," said the countess,\r
+with a smile.\r
+\r
+"He is just the same as ever," replied Anna Mikhaylovna, "overflowing\r
+with amiability. His position has not turned his head at all. He said to\r
+me, 'I am sorry I can do so little for you, dear Princess. I am at your\r
+command.' Yes, he is a fine fellow and a very kind relation. But,\r
+Nataly, you know my love for my son: I would do anything for his\r
+happiness! And my affairs are in such a bad way that my position is now\r
+a terrible one," continued Anna Mikhaylovna, sadly, dropping her voice.\r
+"My wretched lawsuit takes all I have and makes no progress. Would you\r
+believe it, I have literally not a penny and don't know how to equip\r
+Boris." She took out her handkerchief and began to cry. "I need five\r
+hundred rubles, and have only one twenty-five-ruble note. I am in such a\r
+state.... My only hope now is in Count Cyril Vladimirovich Bezukhov. If\r
+he will not assist his godson--you know he is Bory's godfather--and\r
+allow him something for his maintenance, all my trouble will have been\r
+thrown away.... I shall not be able to equip him."\r
+\r
+The countess' eyes filled with tears and she pondered in silence.\r
+\r
+"I often think, though, perhaps it's a sin," said the princess, "that\r
+here lives Count Cyril Vladimirovich Bezukhov so rich, all alone... that\r
+tremendous fortune... and what is his life worth? It's a burden to him,\r
+and Bory's life is only just beginning...."\r
+\r
+"Surely he will leave something to Boris," said the countess.\r
+\r
+"Heaven only knows, my dear! These rich grandees are so selfish. Still,\r
+I will take Boris and go to see him at once, and I shall speak to him\r
+straight out. Let people think what they will of me, it's really all the\r
+same to me when my son's fate is at stake." The princess rose. "It's now\r
+two o'clock and you dine at four. There will just be time."\r
+\r
+And like a practical Petersburg lady who knows how to make the most of\r
+time, Anna Mikhaylovna sent someone to call her son, and went into the\r
+anteroom with him.\r
+\r
+"Good-bye, my dear," said she to the countess who saw her to the door,\r
+and added in a whisper so that her son should not hear, "Wish me good\r
+luck."\r
+\r
+"Are you going to Count Cyril Vladimirovich, my dear?" said the count\r
+coming out from the dining hall into the anteroom, and he added: "If he\r
+is better, ask Pierre to dine with us. He has been to the house, you\r
+know, and danced with the children. Be sure to invite him, my dear. We\r
+will see how Taras distinguishes himself today. He says Count Orlov\r
+never gave such a dinner as ours will be!"\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XV\r
+\r
+"My dear Boris," said Princess Anna Mikhaylovna to her son as Countess\r
+Rostova's carriage in which they were seated drove over the straw\r
+covered street and turned into the wide courtyard of Count Cyril\r
+Vladimirovich Bezukhov's house. "My dear Boris," said the mother,\r
+drawing her hand from beneath her old mantle and laying it timidly and\r
+tenderly on her son's arm, "be affectionate and attentive to him. Count\r
+Cyril Vladimirovich is your godfather after all, your future depends on\r
+him. Remember that, my dear, and be nice to him, as you so well know how\r
+to be."\r
+\r
+"If only I knew that anything besides humiliation would come of it..."\r
+answered her son coldly. "But I have promised and will do it for your\r
+sake."\r
+\r
+Although the hall porter saw someone's carriage standing at the\r
+entrance, after scrutinizing the mother and son (who without asking to\r
+be announced had passed straight through the glass porch between the\r
+rows of statues in niches) and looking significantly at the lady's old\r
+cloak, he asked whether they wanted the count or the princesses, and,\r
+hearing that they wished to see the count, said his excellency was worse\r
+today, and that his excellency was not receiving anyone.\r
+\r
+"We may as well go back," said the son in French.\r
+\r
+"My dear!" exclaimed his mother imploringly, again laying her hand on\r
+his arm as if that touch might soothe or rouse him.\r
+\r
+Boris said no more, but looked inquiringly at his mother without taking\r
+off his cloak.\r
+\r
+"My friend," said Anna Mikhaylovna in gentle tones, addressing the hall\r
+porter, "I know Count Cyril Vladimirovich is very ill... that's why I\r
+have come... I am a relation. I shall not disturb him, my friend... I\r
+only need see Prince Vasili Sergeevich: he is staying here, is he not?\r
+Please announce me."\r
+\r
+The hall porter sullenly pulled a bell that rang upstairs, and turned\r
+away.\r
+\r
+"Princess Drubetskaya to see Prince Vasili Sergeevich," he called to a\r
+footman dressed in knee breeches, shoes, and a swallow-tail coat, who\r
+ran downstairs and looked over from the halfway landing.\r
+\r
+The mother smoothed the folds of her dyed silk dress before a large\r
+Venetian mirror in the wall, and in her trodden-down shoes briskly\r
+ascended the carpeted stairs.\r
+\r
+"My dear," she said to her son, once more stimulating him by a touch,\r
+"you promised me!"\r
+\r
+The son, lowering his eyes, followed her quietly.\r
+\r
+They entered the large hall, from which one of the doors led to the\r
+apartments assigned to Prince Vasili.\r
+\r
+Just as the mother and son, having reached the middle of the hall, were\r
+about to ask their way of an elderly footman who had sprung up as they\r
+entered, the bronze handle of one of the doors turned and Prince Vasili\r
+came out--wearing a velvet coat with a single star on his breast, as was\r
+his custom when at home--taking leave of a good-looking, dark-haired\r
+man. This was the celebrated Petersburg doctor, Lorrain.\r
+\r
+"Then it is certain?" said the prince.\r
+\r
+"Prince, humanum est errare, * but..." replied the doctor, swallowing\r
+his r's, and pronouncing the Latin words with a French accent.\r
+\r
+\r
+* To err is human.\r
+\r
+"Very well, very well..."\r
+\r
+Seeing Anna Mikhaylovna and her son, Prince Vasili dismissed the doctor\r
+with a bow and approached them silently and with a look of inquiry. The\r
+son noticed that an expression of profound sorrow suddenly clouded his\r
+mother's face, and he smiled slightly.\r
+\r
+"Ah, Prince! In what sad circumstances we meet again! And how is our\r
+dear invalid?" said she, as though unaware of the cold offensive look\r
+fixed on her.\r
+\r
+Prince Vasili stared at her and at Boris questioningly and perplexed.\r
+Boris bowed politely. Prince Vasili without acknowledging the bow turned\r
+to Anna Mikhaylovna, answering her query by a movement of the head and\r
+lips indicating very little hope for the patient.\r
+\r
+"Is it possible?" exclaimed Anna Mikhaylovna. "Oh, how awful! It is\r
+terrible to think.... This is my son," she added, indicating Boris. "He\r
+wanted to thank you himself."\r
+\r
+Boris bowed again politely.\r
+\r
+"Believe me, Prince, a mother's heart will never forget what you have\r
+done for us."\r
+\r
+"I am glad I was able to do you a service, my dear Anna Mikhaylovna,"\r
+said Prince Vasili, arranging his lace frill, and in tone and manner,\r
+here in Moscow to Anna Mikhaylovna whom he had placed under an\r
+obligation, assuming an air of much greater importance than he had done\r
+in Petersburg at Anna Scherer's reception.\r
+\r
+"Try to serve well and show yourself worthy," added he, addressing Boris\r
+with severity. "I am glad.... Are you here on leave?" he went on in his\r
+usual tone of indifference.\r
+\r
+"I am awaiting orders to join my new regiment, your excellency," replied\r
+Boris, betraying neither annoyance at the prince's brusque manner nor a\r
+desire to enter into conversation, but speaking so quietly and\r
+respectfully that the prince gave him a searching glance.\r
+\r
+"Are you living with your mother?"\r
+\r
+"I am living at Countess Rostova's," replied Boris, again adding, "your\r
+excellency."\r
+\r
+"That is, with Ilya Rostov who married Nataly Shinshina," said Anna\r
+Mikhaylovna.\r
+\r
+"I know, I know," answered Prince Vasili in his monotonous voice. "I\r
+never could understand how Nataly made up her mind to marry that\r
+unlicked bear! A perfectly absurd and stupid fellow, and a gambler too,\r
+I am told."\r
+\r
+"But a very kind man, Prince," said Anna Mikhaylovna with a pathetic\r
+smile, as though she too knew that Count Rostov deserved this censure,\r
+but asked him not to be too hard on the poor old man. "What do the\r
+doctors say?" asked the princess after a pause, her worn face again\r
+expressing deep sorrow.\r
+\r
+"They give little hope," replied the prince.\r
+\r
+"And I should so like to thank Uncle once for all his kindness to me and\r
+Boris. He is his godson," she added, her tone suggesting that this fact\r
+ought to give Prince Vasili much satisfaction.\r
+\r
+Prince Vasili became thoughtful and frowned. Anna Mikhaylovna saw that\r
+he was afraid of finding in her a rival for Count Bezukhov's fortune,\r
+and hastened to reassure him.\r
+\r
+"If it were not for my sincere affection and devotion to Uncle," said\r
+she, uttering the word with peculiar assurance and unconcern, "I know\r
+his character: noble, upright... but you see he has no one with him\r
+except the young princesses.... They are still young...." She bent her\r
+head and continued in a whisper: "Has he performed his final duty,\r
+Prince? How priceless are those last moments! It can make things no\r
+worse, and it is absolutely necessary to prepare him if he is so ill. We\r
+women, Prince," and she smiled tenderly, "always know how to say these\r
+things. I absolutely must see him, however painful it may be for me. I\r
+am used to suffering."\r
+\r
+Evidently the prince understood her, and also understood, as he had done\r
+at Anna Pavlovna's, that it would be difficult to get rid of Anna\r
+Mikhaylovna.\r
+\r
+"Would not such a meeting be too trying for him, dear Anna Mikhaylovna?"\r
+said he. "Let us wait until evening. The doctors are expecting a\r
+crisis."\r
+\r
+"But one cannot delay, Prince, at such a moment! Consider that the\r
+welfare of his soul is at stake. Ah, it is awful: the duties of a\r
+Christian..."\r
+\r
+A door of one of the inner rooms opened and one of the princesses, the\r
+count's niece, entered with a cold, stern face. The length of her body\r
+was strikingly out of proportion to her short legs. Prince Vasili turned\r
+to her.\r
+\r
+"Well, how is he?"\r
+\r
+"Still the same; but what can you expect, this noise..." said the\r
+princess, looking at Anna Mikhaylovna as at a stranger.\r
+\r
+"Ah, my dear, I hardly knew you," said Anna Mikhaylovna with a happy\r
+smile, ambling lightly up to the count's niece. "I have come, and am at\r
+your service to help you nurse my uncle. I imagine what you have gone\r
+through," and she sympathetically turned up her eyes.\r
+\r
+The princess gave no reply and did not even smile, but left the room as\r
+Anna Mikhaylovna took off her gloves and, occupying the position she had\r
+conquered, settled down in an armchair, inviting Prince Vasili to take a\r
+seat beside her.\r
+\r
+"Boris," she said to her son with a smile, "I shall go in to see the\r
+count, my uncle; but you, my dear, had better go to Pierre meanwhile and\r
+don't forget to give him the Rostovs' invitation. They ask him to\r
+dinner. I suppose he won't go?" she continued, turning to the prince.\r
+\r
+"On the contrary," replied the prince, who had plainly become depressed,\r
+"I shall be only too glad if you relieve me of that young man.... Here\r
+he is, and the count has not once asked for him."\r
+\r
+He shrugged his shoulders. A footman conducted Boris down one flight of\r
+stairs and up another, to Pierre's rooms.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVI\r
+\r
+Pierre, after all, had not managed to choose a career for himself in\r
+Petersburg, and had been expelled from there for riotous conduct and\r
+sent to Moscow. The story told about him at Count Rostov's was true.\r
+Pierre had taken part in tying a policeman to a bear. He had now been\r
+for some days in Moscow and was staying as usual at his father's house.\r
+Though he expected that the story of his escapade would be already known\r
+in Moscow and that the ladies about his father--who were never favorably\r
+disposed toward him--would have used it to turn the count against him,\r
+he nevertheless on the day of his arrival went to his father's part of\r
+the house. Entering the drawing room, where the princesses spent most of\r
+their time, he greeted the ladies, two of whom were sitting at\r
+embroidery frames while a third read aloud. It was the eldest who was\r
+reading--the one who had met Anna Mikhaylovna. The two younger ones were\r
+embroidering: both were rosy and pretty and they differed only in that\r
+one had a little mole on her lip which made her much prettier. Pierre\r
+was received as if he were a corpse or a leper. The eldest princess\r
+paused in her reading and silently stared at him with frightened eyes;\r
+the second assumed precisely the same expression; while the youngest,\r
+the one with the mole, who was of a cheerful and lively disposition,\r
+bent over her frame to hide a smile probably evoked by the amusing scene\r
+she foresaw. She drew her wool down through the canvas and, scarcely\r
+able to refrain from laughing, stooped as if trying to make out the\r
+pattern.\r
+\r
+"How do you do, cousin?" said Pierre. "You don't recognize me?"\r
+\r
+"I recognize you only too well, too well."\r
+\r
+"How is the count? Can I see him?" asked Pierre, awkwardly as usual, but\r
+unabashed.\r
+\r
+"The count is suffering physically and mentally, and apparently you have\r
+done your best to increase his mental sufferings."\r
+\r
+"Can I see the count?" Pierre again asked.\r
+\r
+"Hm.... If you wish to kill him, to kill him outright, you can see\r
+him... Olga, go and see whether Uncle's beef tea is ready--it is almost\r
+time," she added, giving Pierre to understand that they were busy, and\r
+busy making his father comfortable, while evidently he, Pierre, was only\r
+busy causing him annoyance.\r
+\r
+Olga went out. Pierre stood looking at the sisters; then he bowed and\r
+said: "Then I will go to my rooms. You will let me know when I can see\r
+him."\r
+\r
+And he left the room, followed by the low but ringing laughter of the\r
+sister with the mole.\r
+\r
+Next day Prince Vasili had arrived and settled in the count's house. He\r
+sent for Pierre and said to him: "My dear fellow, if you are going to\r
+behave here as you did in Petersburg, you will end very badly; that is\r
+all I have to say to you. The count is very, very ill, and you must not\r
+see him at all."\r
+\r
+Since then Pierre had not been disturbed and had spent the whole time in\r
+his rooms upstairs.\r
+\r
+When Boris appeared at his door Pierre was pacing up and down his room,\r
+stopping occasionally at a corner to make menacing gestures at the wall,\r
+as if running a sword through an invisible foe, and glaring savagely\r
+over his spectacles, and then again resuming his walk, muttering\r
+indistinct words, shrugging his shoulders and gesticulating.\r
+\r
+"England is done for," said he, scowling and pointing his finger at\r
+someone unseen. "Mr. Pitt, as a traitor to the nation and to the rights\r
+of man, is sentenced to..." But before Pierre--who at that moment\r
+imagined himself to be Napoleon in person and to have just effected the\r
+dangerous crossing of the Straits of Dover and captured London--could\r
+pronounce Pitt's sentence, he saw a well-built and handsome young\r
+officer entering his room. Pierre paused. He had left Moscow when Boris\r
+was a boy of fourteen, and had quite forgotten him, but in his usual\r
+impulsive and hearty way he took Boris by the hand with a friendly\r
+smile.\r
+\r
+"Do you remember me?" asked Boris quietly with a pleasant smile. "I have\r
+come with my mother to see the count, but it seems he is not well."\r
+\r
+"Yes, it seems he is ill. People are always disturbing him," answered\r
+Pierre, trying to remember who this young man was.\r
+\r
+Boris felt that Pierre did not recognize him but did not consider it\r
+necessary to introduce himself, and without experiencing the least\r
+embarrassment looked Pierre straight in the face.\r
+\r
+"Count Rostov asks you to come to dinner today," said he, after a\r
+considerable pause which made Pierre feel uncomfortable.\r
+\r
+"Ah, Count Rostov!" exclaimed Pierre joyfully. "Then you are his son,\r
+Ilya? Only fancy, I didn't know you at first. Do you remember how we\r
+went to the Sparrow Hills with Madame Jacquot?... It's such an age..."\r
+\r
+"You are mistaken," said Boris deliberately, with a bold and slightly\r
+sarcastic smile. "I am Boris, son of Princess Anna Mikhaylovna\r
+Drubetskaya. Rostov, the father, is Ilya, and his son is Nicholas. I\r
+never knew any Madame Jacquot."\r
+\r
+Pierre shook his head and arms as if attacked by mosquitoes or bees.\r
+\r
+"Oh dear, what am I thinking about? I've mixed everything up. One has so\r
+many relatives in Moscow! So you are Boris? Of course. Well, now we know\r
+where we are. And what do you think of the Boulogne expedition? The\r
+English will come off badly, you know, if Napoleon gets across the\r
+Channel. I think the expedition is quite feasible. If only Villeneuve\r
+doesn't make a mess of things!"\r
+\r
+Boris knew nothing about the Boulogne expedition; he did not read the\r
+papers and it was the first time he had heard Villeneuve's name.\r
+\r
+"We here in Moscow are more occupied with dinner parties and scandal\r
+than with politics," said he in his quiet ironical tone. "I know nothing\r
+about it and have not thought about it. Moscow is chiefly busy with\r
+gossip," he continued. "Just now they are talking about you and your\r
+father."\r
+\r
+Pierre smiled in his good-natured way as if afraid for his companion's\r
+sake that the latter might say something he would afterwards regret. But\r
+Boris spoke distinctly, clearly, and dryly, looking straight into\r
+Pierre's eyes.\r
+\r
+"Moscow has nothing else to do but gossip," Boris went on. "Everybody is\r
+wondering to whom the count will leave his fortune, though he may\r
+perhaps outlive us all, as I sincerely hope he will..."\r
+\r
+"Yes, it is all very horrid," interrupted Pierre, "very horrid."\r
+\r
+Pierre was still afraid that this officer might inadvertently say\r
+something disconcerting to himself.\r
+\r
+"And it must seem to you," said Boris flushing slightly, but not\r
+changing his tone or attitude, "it must seem to you that everyone is\r
+trying to get something out of the rich man?"\r
+\r
+"So it does," thought Pierre.\r
+\r
+"But I just wish to say, to avoid misunderstandings, that you are quite\r
+mistaken if you reckon me or my mother among such people. We are very\r
+poor, but for my own part at any rate, for the very reason that your\r
+father is rich, I don't regard myself as a relation of his, and neither\r
+I nor my mother would ever ask or take anything from him."\r
+\r
+For a long time Pierre could not understand, but when he did, he jumped\r
+up from the sofa, seized Boris under the elbow in his quick, clumsy way,\r
+and, blushing far more than Boris, began to speak with a feeling of\r
+mingled shame and vexation.\r
+\r
+"Well, this is strange! Do you suppose I... who could think?... I know\r
+very well..."\r
+\r
+But Boris again interrupted him.\r
+\r
+"I am glad I have spoken out fully. Perhaps you did not like it? You\r
+must excuse me," said he, putting Pierre at ease instead of being put at\r
+ease by him, "but I hope I have not offended you. I always make it a\r
+rule to speak out... Well, what answer am I to take? Will you come to\r
+dinner at the Rostovs'?"\r
+\r
+And Boris, having apparently relieved himself of an onerous duty and\r
+extricated himself from an awkward situation and placed another in it,\r
+became quite pleasant again.\r
+\r
+"No, but I say," said Pierre, calming down, "you are a wonderful fellow!\r
+What you have just said is good, very good. Of course you don't know me.\r
+We have not met for such a long time... not since we were children. You\r
+might think that I... I understand, quite understand. I could not have\r
+done it myself, I should not have had the courage, but it's splendid. I\r
+am very glad to have made your acquaintance. It's queer," he added after\r
+a pause, "that you should have suspected me!" He began to laugh. "Well,\r
+what of it! I hope we'll get better acquainted," and he pressed Boris'\r
+hand. "Do you know, I have not once been in to see the count. He has not\r
+sent for me.... I am sorry for him as a man, but what can one do?"\r
+\r
+"And so you think Napoleon will manage to get an army across?" asked\r
+Boris with a smile.\r
+\r
+Pierre saw that Boris wished to change the subject, and being of the\r
+same mind he began explaining the advantages and disadvantages of the\r
+Boulogne expedition.\r
+\r
+A footman came in to summon Boris--the princess was going. Pierre, in\r
+order to make Boris' better acquaintance, promised to come to dinner,\r
+and warmly pressing his hand looked affectionately over his spectacles\r
+into Boris' eyes. After he had gone Pierre continued pacing up and down\r
+the room for a long time, no longer piercing an imaginary foe with his\r
+imaginary sword, but smiling at the remembrance of that pleasant,\r
+intelligent, and resolute young man.\r
+\r
+As often happens in early youth, especially to one who leads a lonely\r
+life, he felt an unaccountable tenderness for this young man and made up\r
+his mind that they would be friends.\r
+\r
+Prince Vasili saw the princess off. She held a handkerchief to her eyes\r
+and her face was tearful.\r
+\r
+"It is dreadful, dreadful!" she was saying, "but cost me what it may I\r
+shall do my duty. I will come and spend the night. He must not be left\r
+like this. Every moment is precious. I can't think why his nieces put it\r
+off. Perhaps God will help me to find a way to prepare him!... Adieu,\r
+Prince! May God support you..."\r
+\r
+"Adieu, ma bonne," answered Prince Vasili turning away from her.\r
+\r
+"Oh, he is in a dreadful state," said the mother to her son when they\r
+were in the carriage. "He hardly recognizes anybody."\r
+\r
+"I don't understand, Mamma--what is his attitude to Pierre?" asked the\r
+son.\r
+\r
+"The will will show that, my dear; our fate also depends on it."\r
+\r
+"But why do you expect that he will leave us anything?"\r
+\r
+"Ah, my dear! He is so rich, and we are so poor!"\r
+\r
+"Well, that is hardly a sufficient reason, Mamma..."\r
+\r
+"Oh, Heaven! How ill he is!" exclaimed the mother.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVII\r
+\r
+After Anna Mikhaylovna had driven off with her son to visit Count Cyril\r
+Vladimirovich Bezukhov, Countess Rostova sat for a long time all alone\r
+applying her handkerchief to her eyes. At last she rang.\r
+\r
+"What is the matter with you, my dear?" she said crossly to the maid who\r
+kept her waiting some minutes. "Don't you wish to serve me? Then I'll\r
+find you another place."\r
+\r
+The countess was upset by her friend's sorrow and humiliating poverty,\r
+and was therefore out of sorts, a state of mind which with her always\r
+found expression in calling her maid "my dear" and speaking to her with\r
+exaggerated politeness.\r
+\r
+"I am very sorry, ma'am," answered the maid.\r
+\r
+"Ask the count to come to me."\r
+\r
+The count came waddling in to see his wife with a rather guilty look as\r
+usual.\r
+\r
+"Well, little countess? What a saute of game au madere we are to have,\r
+my dear! I tasted it. The thousand rubles I paid for Taras were not ill-\r
+spent. He is worth it!"\r
+\r
+He sat down by his wife, his elbows on his knees and his hands ruffling\r
+his gray hair.\r
+\r
+"What are your commands, little countess?"\r
+\r
+"You see, my dear... What's that mess?" she said, pointing to his\r
+waistcoat. "It's the saute, most likely," she added with a smile. "Well,\r
+you see, Count, I want some money."\r
+\r
+Her face became sad.\r
+\r
+"Oh, little countess!"... and the count began bustling to get out his\r
+pocketbook.\r
+\r
+"I want a great deal, Count! I want five hundred rubles," and taking out\r
+her cambric handkerchief she began wiping her husband's waistcoat.\r
+\r
+"Yes, immediately, immediately! Hey, who's there?" he called out in a\r
+tone only used by persons who are certain that those they call will rush\r
+to obey the summons. "Send Dmitri to me!"\r
+\r
+Dmitri, a man of good family who had been brought up in the count's\r
+house and now managed all his affairs, stepped softly into the room.\r
+\r
+"This is what I want, my dear fellow," said the count to the deferential\r
+young man who had entered. "Bring me..." he reflected a moment, "yes,\r
+bring me seven hundred rubles, yes! But mind, don't bring me such\r
+tattered and dirty notes as last time, but nice clean ones for the\r
+countess."\r
+\r
+"Yes, Dmitri, clean ones, please," said the countess, sighing deeply.\r
+\r
+"When would you like them, your excellency?" asked Dmitri. "Allow me to\r
+inform you... But, don't be uneasy," he added, noticing that the count\r
+was beginning to breathe heavily and quickly which was always a sign of\r
+approaching anger. "I was forgetting... Do you wish it brought at once?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes; just so! Bring it. Give it to the countess."\r
+\r
+"What a treasure that Dmitri is," added the count with a smile when the\r
+young man had departed. "There is never any 'impossible' with him.\r
+That's a thing I hate! Everything is possible."\r
+\r
+"Ah, money, Count, money! How much sorrow it causes in the world," said\r
+the countess. "But I am in great need of this sum."\r
+\r
+"You, my little countess, are a notorious spendthrift," said the count,\r
+and having kissed his wife's hand he went back to his study.\r
+\r
+When Anna Mikhaylovna returned from Count Bezukhov's the money, all in\r
+clean notes, was lying ready under a handkerchief on the countess'\r
+little table, and Anna Mikhaylovna noticed that something was agitating\r
+her.\r
+\r
+"Well, my dear?" asked the countess.\r
+\r
+"Oh, what a terrible state he is in! One would not know him, he is so\r
+ill! I was only there a few moments and hardly said a word..."\r
+\r
+"Annette, for heaven's sake don't refuse me," the countess began, with a\r
+blush that looked very strange on her thin, dignified, elderly face, and\r
+she took the money from under the handkerchief.\r
+\r
+Anna Mikhaylovna instantly guessed her intention and stooped to be ready\r
+to embrace the countess at the appropriate moment.\r
+\r
+"This is for Boris from me, for his outfit."\r
+\r
+Anna Mikhaylovna was already embracing her and weeping. The countess\r
+wept too. They wept because they were friends, and because they were\r
+kindhearted, and because they--friends from childhood--had to think\r
+about such a base thing as money, and because their youth was over....\r
+But those tears were pleasant to them both.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVIII\r
+\r
+Countess Rostova, with her daughters and a large number of guests, was\r
+already seated in the drawing room. The count took the gentlemen into\r
+his study and showed them his choice collection of Turkish pipes. From\r
+time to time he went out to ask: "Hasn't she come yet?" They were\r
+expecting Marya Dmitrievna Akhrosimova, known in society as le terrible\r
+dragon, a lady distinguished not for wealth or rank, but for common\r
+sense and frank plainness of speech. Marya Dmitrievna was known to the\r
+Imperial family as well as to all Moscow and Petersburg, and both cities\r
+wondered at her, laughed privately at her rudenesses, and told good\r
+stories about her, while none the less all without exception respected\r
+and feared her.\r
+\r
+In the count's room, which was full of tobacco smoke, they talked of war\r
+that had been announced in a manifesto, and about the recruiting. None\r
+of them had yet seen the manifesto, but they all knew it had appeared.\r
+The count sat on the sofa between two guests who were smoking and\r
+talking. He neither smoked nor talked, but bending his head first to one\r
+side and then to the other watched the smokers with evident pleasure and\r
+listened to the conversation of his two neighbors, whom he egged on\r
+against each other.\r
+\r
+One of them was a sallow, clean-shaven civilian with a thin and wrinkled\r
+face, already growing old, though he was dressed like a most fashionable\r
+young man. He sat with his legs up on the sofa as if quite at home and,\r
+having stuck an amber mouthpiece far into his mouth, was inhaling the\r
+smoke spasmodically and screwing up his eyes. This was an old bachelor,\r
+Shinshin, a cousin of the countess', a man with "a sharp tongue" as they\r
+said in Moscow society. He seemed to be condescending to his companion.\r
+The latter, a fresh, rosy officer of the Guards, irreproachably washed,\r
+brushed, and buttoned, held his pipe in the middle of his mouth and with\r
+red lips gently inhaled the smoke, letting it escape from his handsome\r
+mouth in rings. This was Lieutenant Berg, an officer in the Semenov\r
+regiment with whom Boris was to travel to join the army, and about whom\r
+Natasha had teased her elder sister Vera, speaking of Berg as her\r
+"intended." The count sat between them and listened attentively. His\r
+favorite occupation when not playing boston, a card game he was very\r
+fond of, was that of listener, especially when he succeeded in setting\r
+two loquacious talkers at one another.\r
+\r
+"Well, then, old chap, mon tres honorable Alphonse Karlovich," said\r
+Shinshin, laughing ironically and mixing the most ordinary Russian\r
+expressions with the choicest French phrases--which was a peculiarity of\r
+his speech. "Vous comptez vous faire des rentes sur l'etat; * you want\r
+to make something out of your company?"\r
+\r
+\r
+* You expect to make an income out of the government.\r
+\r
+"No, Peter Nikolaevich; I only want to show that in the cavalry the\r
+advantages are far less than in the infantry. Just consider my own\r
+position now, Peter Nikolaevich..."\r
+\r
+Berg always spoke quietly, politely, and with great precision. His\r
+conversation always related entirely to himself; he would remain calm\r
+and silent when the talk related to any topic that had no direct bearing\r
+on himself. He could remain silent for hours without being at all put\r
+out of countenance himself or making others uncomfortable, but as soon\r
+as the conversation concerned himself he would begin to talk\r
+circumstantially and with evident satisfaction.\r
+\r
+"Consider my position, Peter Nikolaevich. Were I in the cavalry I should\r
+get not more than two hundred rubles every four months, even with the\r
+rank of lieutenant; but as it is I receive two hundred and thirty," said\r
+he, looking at Shinshin and the count with a joyful, pleasant smile, as\r
+if it were obvious to him that his success must always be the chief\r
+desire of everyone else.\r
+\r
+"Besides that, Peter Nikolaevich, by exchanging into the Guards I shall\r
+be in a more prominent position," continued Berg, "and vacancies occur\r
+much more frequently in the Foot Guards. Then just think what can be\r
+done with two hundred and thirty rubles! I even manage to put a little\r
+aside and to send something to my father," he went on, emitting a smoke\r
+ring.\r
+\r
+"La balance y est... * A German knows how to skin a flint, as the\r
+proverb says," remarked Shinshin, moving his pipe to the other side of\r
+his mouth and winking at the count.\r
+\r
+\r
+* So that squares matters.\r
+\r
+The count burst out laughing. The other guests seeing that Shinshin was\r
+talking came up to listen. Berg, oblivious of irony or indifference,\r
+continued to explain how by exchanging into the Guards he had already\r
+gained a step on his old comrades of the Cadet Corps; how in wartime the\r
+company commander might get killed and he, as senior in the company,\r
+might easily succeed to the post; how popular he was with everyone in\r
+the regiment, and how satisfied his father was with him. Berg evidently\r
+enjoyed narrating all this, and did not seem to suspect that others,\r
+too, might have their own interests. But all he said was so prettily\r
+sedate, and the naivete of his youthful egotism was so obvious, that he\r
+disarmed his hearers.\r
+\r
+"Well, my boy, you'll get along wherever you go--foot or horse--that\r
+I'll warrant," said Shinshin, patting him on the shoulder and taking his\r
+feet off the sofa.\r
+\r
+Berg smiled joyously. The count, by his guests, went into the drawing\r
+room.\r
+\r
+It was just the moment before a big dinner when the assembled guests,\r
+expecting the summons to zakuska, * avoid engaging in any long\r
+conversation but think it necessary to move about and talk, in order to\r
+show that they are not at all impatient for their food. The host and\r
+hostess look toward the door, and now and then glance at one another,\r
+and the visitors try to guess from these glances who, or what, they are\r
+waiting for--some important relation who has not yet arrived, or a dish\r
+that is not yet ready.\r
+\r
+\r
+* Hors d'oeuvres.\r
+\r
+Pierre had come just at dinnertime and was sitting awkwardly in the\r
+middle of the drawing room on the first chair he had come across,\r
+blocking the way for everyone. The countess tried to make him talk, but\r
+he went on naively looking around through his spectacles as if in search\r
+of somebody and answered all her questions in monosyllables. He was in\r
+the way and was the only one who did not notice the fact. Most of the\r
+guests, knowing of the affair with the bear, looked with curiosity at\r
+this big, stout, quiet man, wondering how such a clumsy, modest fellow\r
+could have played such a prank on a policeman.\r
+\r
+"You have only lately arrived?" the countess asked him.\r
+\r
+"Oui, madame," replied he, looking around him.\r
+\r
+"You have not yet seen my husband?"\r
+\r
+"Non, madame." He smiled quite inappropriately.\r
+\r
+"You have been in Paris recently, I believe? I suppose it's very\r
+interesting."\r
+\r
+"Very interesting."\r
+\r
+The countess exchanged glances with Anna Mikhaylovna. The latter\r
+understood that she was being asked to entertain this young man, and\r
+sitting down beside him she began to speak about his father; but he\r
+answered her, as he had the countess, only in monosyllables. The other\r
+guests were all conversing with one another. "The Razumovskis... It was\r
+charming... You are very kind... Countess Apraksina..." was heard on all\r
+sides. The countess rose and went into the ballroom.\r
+\r
+"Marya Dmitrievna?" came her voice from there.\r
+\r
+"Herself," came the answer in a rough voice, and Marya Dmitrievna\r
+entered the room.\r
+\r
+All the unmarried ladies and even the married ones except the very\r
+oldest rose. Marya Dmitrievna paused at the door. Tall and stout,\r
+holding high her fifty-year-old head with its gray curls, she stood\r
+surveying the guests, and leisurely arranged her wide sleeves as if\r
+rolling them up. Marya Dmitrievna always spoke in Russian.\r
+\r
+"Health and happiness to her whose name day we are keeping and to her\r
+children," she said, in her loud, full-toned voice which drowned all\r
+others. "Well, you old sinner," she went on, turning to the count who\r
+was kissing her hand, "you're feeling dull in Moscow, I daresay? Nowhere\r
+to hunt with your dogs? But what is to be done, old man? Just see how\r
+these nestlings are growing up," and she pointed to the girls. "You must\r
+look for husbands for them whether you like it or not...."\r
+\r
+"Well," said she, "how's my Cossack?" (Marya Dmitrievna always called\r
+Natasha a Cossack) and she stroked the child's arm as she came up\r
+fearless and gay to kiss her hand. "I know she's a scamp of a girl, but\r
+I like her."\r
+\r
+She took a pair of pear-shaped ruby earrings from her huge reticule and,\r
+having given them to the rosy Natasha, who beamed with the pleasure of\r
+her saint's-day fete, turned away at once and addressed herself to\r
+Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Eh, eh, friend! Come here a bit," said she, assuming a soft high tone\r
+of voice. "Come here, my friend..." and she ominously tucked up her\r
+sleeves still higher. Pierre approached, looking at her in a childlike\r
+way through his spectacles.\r
+\r
+"Come nearer, come nearer, friend! I used to be the only one to tell\r
+your father the truth when he was in favor, and in your case it's my\r
+evident duty." She paused. All were silent, expectant of what was to\r
+follow, for this was clearly only a prelude.\r
+\r
+"A fine lad! My word! A fine lad!... His father lies on his deathbed and\r
+he amuses himself setting a policeman astride a bear! For shame, sir,\r
+for shame! It would be better if you went to the war."\r
+\r
+She turned away and gave her hand to the count, who could hardly keep\r
+from laughing.\r
+\r
+"Well, I suppose it is time we were at table?" said Marya Dmitrievna.\r
+\r
+The count went in first with Marya Dmitrievna, the countess followed on\r
+the arm of a colonel of hussars, a man of importance to them because\r
+Nicholas was to go with him to the regiment; then came Anna Mikhaylovna\r
+with Shinshin. Berg gave his arm to Vera. The smiling Julie Karagina\r
+went in with Nicholas. After them other couples followed, filling the\r
+whole dining hall, and last of all the children, tutors, and governesses\r
+followed singly. The footmen began moving about, chairs scraped, the\r
+band struck up in the gallery, and the guests settled down in their\r
+places. Then the strains of the count's household band were replaced by\r
+the clatter of knives and forks, the voices of visitors, and the soft\r
+steps of the footmen. At one end of the table sat the countess with\r
+Marya Dmitrievna on her right and Anna Mikhaylovna on her left, the\r
+other lady visitors were farther down. At the other end sat the count,\r
+with the hussar colonel on his left and Shinshin and the other male\r
+visitors on his right. Midway down the long table on one side sat the\r
+grownup young people: Vera beside Berg, and Pierre beside Boris; and on\r
+the other side, the children, tutors, and governesses. From behind the\r
+crystal decanters and fruit vases, the count kept glancing at his wife\r
+and her tall cap with its light-blue ribbons, and busily filled his\r
+neighbors' glasses, not neglecting his own. The countess in turn,\r
+without omitting her duties as hostess, threw significant glances from\r
+behind the pineapples at her husband whose face and bald head seemed by\r
+their redness to contrast more than usual with his gray hair. At the\r
+ladies' end an even chatter of voices was heard all the time, at the\r
+men's end the voices sounded louder and louder, especially that of the\r
+colonel of hussars who, growing more and more flushed, ate and drank so\r
+much that the count held him up as a pattern to the other guests. Berg\r
+with tender smiles was saying to Vera that love is not an earthly but a\r
+heavenly feeling. Boris was telling his new friend Pierre who the guests\r
+were and exchanging glances with Natasha, who was sitting opposite.\r
+Pierre spoke little but examined the new faces, and ate a great deal. Of\r
+the two soups he chose turtle with savory patties and went on to the\r
+game without omitting a single dish or one of the wines. These latter\r
+the butler thrust mysteriously forward, wrapped in a napkin, from behind\r
+the next man's shoulders and whispered: "Dry Madeira"... "Hungarian"...\r
+or "Rhine wine" as the case might be. Of the four crystal glasses\r
+engraved with the count's monogram that stood before his plate, Pierre\r
+held out one at random and drank with enjoyment, gazing with ever-\r
+increasing amiability at the other guests. Natasha, who sat opposite,\r
+was looking at Boris as girls of thirteen look at the boy they are in\r
+love with and have just kissed for the first time. Sometimes that same\r
+look fell on Pierre, and that funny lively little girl's look made him\r
+inclined to laugh without knowing why.\r
+\r
+Nicholas sat at some distance from Sonya, beside Julie Karagina, to whom\r
+he was again talking with the same involuntary smile. Sonya wore a\r
+company smile but was evidently tormented by jealousy; now she turned\r
+pale, now blushed and strained every nerve to overhear what Nicholas and\r
+Julie were saying to one another. The governess kept looking round\r
+uneasily as if preparing to resent any slight that might be put upon the\r
+children. The German tutor was trying to remember all the dishes, wines,\r
+and kinds of dessert, in order to send a full description of the dinner\r
+to his people in Germany; and he felt greatly offended when the butler\r
+with a bottle wrapped in a napkin passed him by. He frowned, trying to\r
+appear as if he did not want any of that wine, but was mortified because\r
+no one would understand that it was not to quench his thirst or from\r
+greediness that he wanted it, but simply from a conscientious desire for\r
+knowledge.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIX\r
+\r
+At the men's end of the table the talk grew more and more animated. The\r
+colonel told them that the declaration of war had already appeared in\r
+Petersburg and that a copy, which he had himself seen, had that day been\r
+forwarded by courier to the commander-in-chief.\r
+\r
+"And why the deuce are we going to fight Bonaparte?" remarked Shinshin.\r
+"He has stopped Austria's cackle and I fear it will be our turn next."\r
+\r
+The colonel was a stout, tall, plethoric German, evidently devoted to\r
+the service and patriotically Russian. He resented Shinshin's remark.\r
+\r
+"It is for the reasson, my goot sir," said he, speaking with a German\r
+accent, "for the reasson zat ze Emperor knows zat. He declares in ze\r
+manifessto zat he cannot fiew wiz indifference ze danger vreatening\r
+Russia and zat ze safety and dignity of ze Empire as vell as ze sanctity\r
+of its alliances..." he spoke this last word with particular emphasis as\r
+if in it lay the gist of the matter.\r
+\r
+Then with the unerring official memory that characterized him he\r
+repeated from the opening words of the manifesto:\r
+\r
+... and the wish, which constitutes the Emperor's sole and absolute aim-\r
+-to establish peace in Europe on firm foundations--has now decided him\r
+to despatch part of the army abroad and to create a new condition for\r
+the attainment of that purpose.\r
+\r
+"Zat, my dear sir, is vy..." he concluded, drinking a tumbler of wine\r
+with dignity and looking to the count for approval.\r
+\r
+"Connaissez-vous le Proverbe: * 'Jerome, Jerome, do not roam, but turn\r
+spindles at home!'?" said Shinshin, puckering his brows and smiling.\r
+"Cela nous convient a merveille.*(2) Suvorov now--he knew what he was\r
+about; yet they beat him a plate couture,*(3) and where are we to find\r
+Suvorovs now? Je vous demande un peu,"*(4) said he, continually changing\r
+from French to Russian.\r
+\r
+\r
+*Do you know the proverb?\r
+\r
+*(2) That suits us down to the ground.\r
+\r
+*(3) Hollow.\r
+\r
+*(4) I just ask you that.\r
+\r
+"Ve must vight to the last tr-r-op of our plood!" said the colonel,\r
+thumping the table; "and ve must tie for our Emperor, and zen all vill\r
+pe vell. And ve must discuss it as little as po-o-ossible"... he dwelt\r
+particularly on the word possible... "as po-o-ossible," he ended, again\r
+turning to the count. "Zat is how ve old hussars look at it, and zere's\r
+an end of it! And how do you, a young man and a young hussar, how do you\r
+judge of it?" he added, addressing Nicholas, who when he heard that the\r
+war was being discussed had turned from his partner with eyes and ears\r
+intent on the colonel.\r
+\r
+"I am quite of your opinion," replied Nicholas, flaming up, turning his\r
+plate round and moving his wineglasses about with as much decision and\r
+desperation as though he were at that moment facing some great danger.\r
+"I am convinced that we Russians must die or conquer," he concluded,\r
+conscious--as were others--after the words were uttered that his remarks\r
+were too enthusiastic and emphatic for the occasion and were therefore\r
+awkward.\r
+\r
+"What you said just now was splendid!" said his partner Julie.\r
+\r
+Sonya trembled all over and blushed to her ears and behind them and down\r
+to her neck and shoulders while Nicholas was speaking.\r
+\r
+Pierre listened to the colonel's speech and nodded approvingly.\r
+\r
+"That's fine," said he.\r
+\r
+"The young man's a real hussar!" shouted the colonel, again thumping the\r
+table.\r
+\r
+"What are you making such a noise about over there?" Marya Dmitrievna's\r
+deep voice suddenly inquired from the other end of the table. "What are\r
+you thumping the table for?" she demanded of the hussar, "and why are\r
+you exciting yourself? Do you think the French are here?"\r
+\r
+"I am speaking ze truce," replied the hussar with a smile.\r
+\r
+"It's all about the war," the count shouted down the table. "You know my\r
+son's going, Marya Dmitrievna? My son is going."\r
+\r
+"I have four sons in the army but still I don't fret. It is all in God's\r
+hands. You may die in your bed or God may spare you in a battle,"\r
+replied Marya Dmitrievna's deep voice, which easily carried the whole\r
+length of the table.\r
+\r
+"That's true!"\r
+\r
+Once more the conversations concentrated, the ladies' at the one end and\r
+the men's at the other.\r
+\r
+"You won't ask," Natasha's little brother was saying; "I know you won't\r
+ask!"\r
+\r
+"I will," replied Natasha.\r
+\r
+Her face suddenly flushed with reckless and joyous resolution. She half\r
+rose, by a glance inviting Pierre, who sat opposite, to listen to what\r
+was coming, and turning to her mother:\r
+\r
+"Mamma!" rang out the clear contralto notes of her childish voice,\r
+audible the whole length of the table.\r
+\r
+"What is it?" asked the countess, startled; but seeing by her daughter's\r
+face that it was only mischief, she shook a finger at her sternly with a\r
+threatening and forbidding movement of her head.\r
+\r
+The conversation was hushed.\r
+\r
+"Mamma! What sweets are we going to have?" and Natasha's voice sounded\r
+still more firm and resolute.\r
+\r
+The countess tried to frown, but could not. Marya Dmitrievna shook her\r
+fat finger.\r
+\r
+"Cossack!" she said threateningly.\r
+\r
+Most of the guests, uncertain how to regard this sally, looked at the\r
+elders.\r
+\r
+"You had better take care!" said the countess.\r
+\r
+"Mamma! What sweets are we going to have?" Natasha again cried boldly,\r
+with saucy gaiety, confident that her prank would be taken in good part.\r
+\r
+Sonya and fat little Petya doubled up with laughter.\r
+\r
+"You see! I have asked," whispered Natasha to her little brother and to\r
+Pierre, glancing at him again.\r
+\r
+"Ice pudding, but you won't get any," said Marya Dmitrievna.\r
+\r
+Natasha saw there was nothing to be afraid of and so she braved even\r
+Marya Dmitrievna.\r
+\r
+"Marya Dmitrievna! What kind of ice pudding? I don't like ice cream."\r
+\r
+"Carrot ices."\r
+\r
+"No! What kind, Marya Dmitrievna? What kind?" she almost screamed; "I\r
+want to know!"\r
+\r
+Marya Dmitrievna and the countess burst out laughing, and all the guests\r
+joined in. Everyone laughed, not at Marya Dmitrievna's answer but at the\r
+incredible boldness and smartness of this little girl who had dared to\r
+treat Marya Dmitrievna in this fashion.\r
+\r
+Natasha only desisted when she had been told that there would be\r
+pineapple ice. Before the ices, champagne was served round. The band\r
+again struck up, the count and countess kissed, and the guests, leaving\r
+their seats, went up to "congratulate" the countess, and reached across\r
+the table to clink glasses with the count, with the children, and with\r
+one another. Again the footmen rushed about, chairs scraped, and in the\r
+same order in which they had entered but with redder faces, the guests\r
+returned to the drawing room and to the count's study.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XX\r
+\r
+The card tables were drawn out, sets made up for boston, and the count's\r
+visitors settled themselves, some in the two drawing rooms, some in the\r
+sitting room, some in the library.\r
+\r
+The count, holding his cards fanwise, kept himself with difficulty from\r
+dropping into his usual after-dinner nap, and laughed at everything. The\r
+young people, at the countess' instigation, gathered round the\r
+clavichord and harp. Julie by general request played first. After she\r
+had played a little air with variations on the harp, she joined the\r
+other young ladies in begging Natasha and Nicholas, who were noted for\r
+their musical talent, to sing something. Natasha, who was treated as\r
+though she were grown up, was evidently very proud of this but at the\r
+same time felt shy.\r
+\r
+"What shall we sing?" she said.\r
+\r
+"'The Brook,'" suggested Nicholas.\r
+\r
+"Well, then, let's be quick. Boris, come here," said Natasha. "But where\r
+is Sonya?"\r
+\r
+She looked round and seeing that her friend was not in the room ran to\r
+look for her.\r
+\r
+Running into Sonya's room and not finding her there, Natasha ran to the\r
+nursery, but Sonya was not there either. Natasha concluded that she must\r
+be on the chest in the passage. The chest in the passage was the place\r
+of mourning for the younger female generation in the Rostov household.\r
+And there in fact was Sonya lying face downward on Nurse's dirty feather\r
+bed on the top of the chest, crumpling her gauzy pink dress under her,\r
+hiding her face with her slender fingers, and sobbing so convulsively\r
+that her bare little shoulders shook. Natasha's face, which had been so\r
+radiantly happy all that saint's day, suddenly changed: her eyes became\r
+fixed, and then a shiver passed down her broad neck and the corners of\r
+her mouth drooped.\r
+\r
+"Sonya! What is it? What is the matter?... Oo... Oo... Oo...!" And\r
+Natasha's large mouth widened, making her look quite ugly, and she began\r
+to wail like a baby without knowing why, except that Sonya was crying.\r
+Sonya tried to lift her head to answer but could not, and hid her face\r
+still deeper in the bed. Natasha wept, sitting on the blue-striped\r
+feather bed and hugging her friend. With an effort Sonya sat up and\r
+began wiping her eyes and explaining.\r
+\r
+"Nicholas is going away in a week's time, his... papers... have come...\r
+he told me himself... but still I should not cry," and she showed a\r
+paper she held in her hand--with the verses Nicholas had written,\r
+"still, I should not cry, but you can't... no one can understand... what\r
+a soul he has!"\r
+\r
+And she began to cry again because he had such a noble soul.\r
+\r
+"It's all very well for you... I am not envious... I love you and Boris\r
+also," she went on, gaining a little strength; "he is nice... there are\r
+no difficulties in your way.... But Nicholas is my cousin... one would\r
+have to... the Metropolitan himself... and even then it can't be done.\r
+And besides, if she tells Mamma" (Sonya looked upon the countess as her\r
+mother and called her so) "that I am spoiling Nicholas' career and am\r
+heartless and ungrateful, while truly... God is my witness," and she\r
+made the sign of the cross, "I love her so much, and all of you, only\r
+Vera... And what for? What have I done to her? I am so grateful to you\r
+that I would willingly sacrifice everything, only I have nothing...."\r
+\r
+Sonya could not continue, and again hid her face in her hands and in the\r
+feather bed. Natasha began consoling her, but her face showed that she\r
+understood all the gravity of her friend's trouble.\r
+\r
+"Sonya," she suddenly exclaimed, as if she had guessed the true reason\r
+of her friend's sorrow, "I'm sure Vera has said something to you since\r
+dinner? Hasn't she?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, these verses Nicholas wrote himself and I copied some others, and\r
+she found them on my table and said she'd show them to Mamma, and that I\r
+was ungrateful, and that Mamma would never allow him to marry me, but\r
+that he'll marry Julie. You see how he's been with her all day...\r
+Natasha, what have I done to deserve it?..."\r
+\r
+And again she began to sob, more bitterly than before. Natasha lifted\r
+her up, hugged her, and, smiling through her tears, began comforting\r
+her.\r
+\r
+"Sonya, don't believe her, darling! Don't believe her! Do you remember\r
+how we and Nicholas, all three of us, talked in the sitting room after\r
+supper? Why, we settled how everything was to be. I don't quite remember\r
+how, but don't you remember that it could all be arranged and how nice\r
+it all was? There's Uncle Shinshin's brother has married his first\r
+cousin. And we are only second cousins, you know. And Boris says it is\r
+quite possible. You know I have told him all about it. And he is so\r
+clever and so good!" said Natasha. "Don't you cry, Sonya, dear love,\r
+darling Sonya!" and she kissed her and laughed. "Vera's spiteful; never\r
+mind her! And all will come right and she won't say anything to Mamma.\r
+Nicholas will tell her himself, and he doesn't care at all for Julie."\r
+\r
+Natasha kissed her on the hair.\r
+\r
+Sonya sat up. The little kitten brightened, its eyes shone, and it\r
+seemed ready to lift its tail, jump down on its soft paws, and begin\r
+playing with the ball of worsted as a kitten should.\r
+\r
+"Do you think so?... Really? Truly?" she said, quickly smoothing her\r
+frock and hair.\r
+\r
+"Really, truly!" answered Natasha, pushing in a crisp lock that had\r
+strayed from under her friend's plaits.\r
+\r
+Both laughed.\r
+\r
+"Well, let's go and sing 'The Brook.'"\r
+\r
+"Come along!"\r
+\r
+"Do you know, that fat Pierre who sat opposite me is so funny!" said\r
+Natasha, stopping suddenly. "I feel so happy!"\r
+\r
+And she set off at a run along the passage.\r
+\r
+Sonya, shaking off some down which clung to her and tucking away the\r
+verses in the bosom of her dress close to her bony little chest, ran\r
+after Natasha down the passage into the sitting room with flushed face\r
+and light, joyous steps. At the visitors' request the young people sang\r
+the quartette, "The Brook," with which everyone was delighted. Then\r
+Nicholas sang a song he had just learned:\r
+\r
+\r
+At nighttime in the moon's fair glow How sweet, as fancies wander free,\r
+To feel that in this world there's one Who still is thinking but of\r
+thee!\r
+\r
+That while her fingers touch the harp Wafting sweet music o'er the lea,\r
+It is for thee thus swells her heart, Sighing its message out to thee...\r
+\r
+A day or two, then bliss unspoilt, But oh! till then I cannot live!...\r
+\r
+He had not finished the last verse before the young people began to get\r
+ready to dance in the large hall, and the sound of the feet and the\r
+coughing of the musicians were heard from the gallery.\r
+\r
+Pierre was sitting in the drawing-room where Shinshin had engaged him,\r
+as a man recently returned from abroad, in a political conversation in\r
+which several others joined but which bored Pierre. When the music began\r
+Natasha came in and walking straight up to Pierre said, laughing and\r
+blushing:\r
+\r
+"Mamma told me to ask you to join the dancers."\r
+\r
+"I am afraid of mixing the figures," Pierre replied; "but if you will be\r
+my teacher..." And lowering his big arm he offered it to the slender\r
+little girl.\r
+\r
+While the couples were arranging themselves and the musicians tuning up,\r
+Pierre sat down with his little partner. Natasha was perfectly happy;\r
+she was dancing with a grown-up man, who had been abroad. She was\r
+sitting in a conspicuous place and talking to him like a grown-up lady.\r
+She had a fan in her hand that one of the ladies had given her to hold.\r
+Assuming quite the pose of a society woman (heaven knows when and where\r
+she had learned it) she talked with her partner, fanning herself and\r
+smiling over the fan.\r
+\r
+"Dear, dear! Just look at her!" exclaimed the countess as she crossed\r
+the ballroom, pointing to Natasha.\r
+\r
+Natasha blushed and laughed.\r
+\r
+"Well, really, Mamma! Why should you? What is there to be surprised at?"\r
+\r
+In the midst of the third ecossaise there was a clatter of chairs being\r
+pushed back in the sitting room where the count and Marya Dmitrievna had\r
+been playing cards with the majority of the more distinguished and older\r
+visitors. They now, stretching themselves after sitting so long, and\r
+replacing their purses and pocketbooks, entered the ballroom. First came\r
+Marya Dmitrievna and the count, both with merry countenances. The count,\r
+with playful ceremony somewhat in ballet style, offered his bent arm to\r
+Marya Dmitrievna. He drew himself up, a smile of debonair gallantry lit\r
+up his face and as soon as the last figure of the ecossaise was ended,\r
+he clapped his hands to the musicians and shouted up to their gallery,\r
+addressing the first violin:\r
+\r
+"Semen! Do you know the Daniel Cooper?"\r
+\r
+This was the count's favorite dance, which he had danced in his youth.\r
+(Strictly speaking, Daniel Cooper was one figure of the anglaise.)\r
+\r
+"Look at Papa!" shouted Natasha to the whole company, and quite\r
+forgetting that she was dancing with a grown-up partner she bent her\r
+curly head to her knees and made the whole room ring with her laughter.\r
+\r
+And indeed everybody in the room looked with a smile of pleasure at the\r
+jovial old gentleman, who standing beside his tall and stout partner,\r
+Marya Dmitrievna, curved his arms, beat time, straightened his\r
+shoulders, turned out his toes, tapped gently with his foot, and, by a\r
+smile that broadened his round face more and more, prepared the\r
+onlookers for what was to follow. As soon as the provocatively gay\r
+strains of Daniel Cooper (somewhat resembling those of a merry peasant\r
+dance) began to sound, all the doorways of the ballroom were suddenly\r
+filled by the domestic serfs--the men on one side and the women on the\r
+other--who with beaming faces had come to see their master making merry.\r
+\r
+"Just look at the master! A regular eagle he is!" loudly remarked the\r
+nurse, as she stood in one of the doorways.\r
+\r
+The count danced well and knew it. But his partner could not and did not\r
+want to dance well. Her enormous figure stood erect, her powerful arms\r
+hanging down (she had handed her reticule to the countess), and only her\r
+stern but handsome face really joined in the dance. What was expressed\r
+by the whole of the count's plump figure, in Marya Dmitrievna found\r
+expression only in her more and more beaming face and quivering nose.\r
+But if the count, getting more and more into the swing of it, charmed\r
+the spectators by the unexpectedness of his adroit maneuvers and the\r
+agility with which he capered about on his light feet, Marya Dmitrievna\r
+produced no less impression by slight exertions--the least effort to\r
+move her shoulders or bend her arms when turning, or stamp her foot--\r
+which everyone appreciated in view of her size and habitual severity.\r
+The dance grew livelier and livelier. The other couples could not\r
+attract a moment's attention to their own evolutions and did not even\r
+try to do so. All were watching the count and Marya Dmitrievna. Natasha\r
+kept pulling everyone by sleeve or dress, urging them to "look at Papa!"\r
+though as it was they never took their eyes off the couple. In the\r
+intervals of the dance the count, breathing deeply, waved and shouted to\r
+the musicians to play faster. Faster, faster, and faster; lightly, more\r
+lightly, and yet more lightly whirled the count, flying round Marya\r
+Dmitrievna, now on his toes, now on his heels; until, turning his\r
+partner round to her seat, he executed the final pas, raising his soft\r
+foot backwards, bowing his perspiring head, smiling and making a wide\r
+sweep with his arm, amid a thunder of applause and laughter led by\r
+Natasha. Both partners stood still, breathing heavily and wiping their\r
+faces with their cambric handkerchiefs.\r
+\r
+"That's how we used to dance in our time, ma chere," said the count.\r
+\r
+"That was a Daniel Cooper!" exclaimed Marya Dmitrievna, tucking up her\r
+sleeves and puffing heavily.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXI\r
+\r
+While in the Rostovs' ballroom the sixth anglaise was being danced, to a\r
+tune in which the weary musicians blundered, and while tired footmen and\r
+cooks were getting the supper, Count Bezukhov had a sixth stroke. The\r
+doctors pronounced recovery impossible. After a mute confession,\r
+communion was administered to the dying man, preparations made for the\r
+sacrament of unction, and in his house there was the bustle and thrill\r
+of suspense usual at such moments. Outside the house, beyond the gates,\r
+a group of undertakers, who hid whenever a carriage drove up, waited in\r
+expectation of an important order for an expensive funeral. The Military\r
+Governor of Moscow, who had been assiduous in sending aides-de-camp to\r
+inquire after the count's health, came himself that evening to bid a\r
+last farewell to the celebrated grandee of Catherine's court, Count\r
+Bezukhov.\r
+\r
+The magnificent reception room was crowded. Everyone stood up\r
+respectfully when the Military Governor, having stayed about half an\r
+hour alone with the dying man, passed out, slightly acknowledging their\r
+bows and trying to escape as quickly as possible from the glances fixed\r
+on him by the doctors, clergy, and relatives of the family. Prince\r
+Vasili, who had grown thinner and paler during the last few days,\r
+escorted him to the door, repeating something to him several times in\r
+low tones.\r
+\r
+When the Military Governor had gone, Prince Vasili sat down all alone on\r
+a chair in the ballroom, crossing one leg high over the other, leaning\r
+his elbow on his knee and covering his face with his hand. After sitting\r
+so for a while he rose, and, looking about him with frightened eyes,\r
+went with unusually hurried steps down the long corridor leading to the\r
+back of the house, to the room of the eldest princess.\r
+\r
+Those who were in the dimly lit reception room spoke in nervous\r
+whispers, and, whenever anyone went into or came from the dying man's\r
+room, grew silent and gazed with eyes full of curiosity or expectancy at\r
+his door, which creaked slightly when opened.\r
+\r
+"The limits of human life... are fixed and may not be o'erpassed," said\r
+an old priest to a lady who had taken a seat beside him and was\r
+listening naively to his words.\r
+\r
+"I wonder, is it not too late to administer unction?" asked the lady,\r
+adding the priest's clerical title, as if she had no opinion of her own\r
+on the subject.\r
+\r
+"Ah, madam, it is a great sacrament," replied the priest, passing his\r
+hand over the thin grizzled strands of hair combed back across his bald\r
+head.\r
+\r
+"Who was that? The Military Governor himself?" was being asked at the\r
+other side of the room. "How young-looking he is!"\r
+\r
+"Yes, and he is over sixty. I hear the count no longer recognizes\r
+anyone. They wished to administer the sacrament of unction."\r
+\r
+"I knew someone who received that sacrament seven times."\r
+\r
+The second princess had just come from the sickroom with her eyes red\r
+from weeping and sat down beside Dr. Lorrain, who was sitting in a\r
+graceful pose under a portrait of Catherine, leaning his elbow on a\r
+table.\r
+\r
+"Beautiful," said the doctor in answer to a remark about the weather.\r
+"The weather is beautiful, Princess; and besides, in Moscow one feels as\r
+if one were in the country."\r
+\r
+"Yes, indeed," replied the princess with a sigh. "So he may have\r
+something to drink?"\r
+\r
+Lorrain considered.\r
+\r
+"Has he taken his medicine?"\r
+\r
+"Yes."\r
+\r
+The doctor glanced at his watch.\r
+\r
+"Take a glass of boiled water and put a pinch of cream of tartar," and\r
+he indicated with his delicate fingers what he meant by a pinch.\r
+\r
+"Dere has neffer been a gase," a German doctor was saying to an aide-de-\r
+camp, "dat one liffs after de sird stroke."\r
+\r
+"And what a well-preserved man he was!" remarked the aide-de-camp. "And\r
+who will inherit his wealth?" he added in a whisper.\r
+\r
+"It von't go begging," replied the German with a smile.\r
+\r
+Everyone again looked toward the door, which creaked as the second\r
+princess went in with the drink she had prepared according to Lorrain's\r
+instructions. The German doctor went up to Lorrain.\r
+\r
+"Do you think he can last till morning?" asked the German, addressing\r
+Lorrain in French which he pronounced badly.\r
+\r
+Lorrain, pursing up his lips, waved a severely negative finger before\r
+his nose.\r
+\r
+"Tonight, not later," said he in a low voice, and he moved away with a\r
+decorous smile of self-satisfaction at being able clearly to understand\r
+and state the patient's condition.\r
+\r
+Meanwhile Prince Vasili had opened the door into the princess' room.\r
+\r
+In this room it was almost dark; only two tiny lamps were burning before\r
+the icons and there was a pleasant scent of flowers and burnt pastilles.\r
+The room was crowded with small pieces of furniture, whatnots,\r
+cupboards, and little tables. The quilt of a high, white feather bed was\r
+just visible behind a screen. A small dog began to bark.\r
+\r
+"Ah, is it you, cousin?"\r
+\r
+She rose and smoothed her hair, which was as usual so extremely smooth\r
+that it seemed to be made of one piece with her head and covered with\r
+varnish.\r
+\r
+"Has anything happened?" she asked. "I am so terrified."\r
+\r
+"No, there is no change. I only came to have a talk about business,\r
+Catiche," * muttered the prince, seating himself wearily on the chair\r
+she had just vacated. "You have made the place warm, I must say," he\r
+remarked. "Well, sit down: let's have a talk."\r
+\r
+\r
+*Catherine.\r
+\r
+"I thought perhaps something had happened," she said with her unchanging\r
+stonily severe expression; and, sitting down opposite the prince, she\r
+prepared to listen.\r
+\r
+"I wished to get a nap, mon cousin, but I can't."\r
+\r
+"Well, my dear?" said Prince Vasili, taking her hand and bending it\r
+downwards as was his habit.\r
+\r
+It was plain that this "well?" referred to much that they both\r
+understood without naming.\r
+\r
+The princess, who had a straight, rigid body, abnormally long for her\r
+legs, looked directly at Prince Vasili with no sign of emotion in her\r
+prominent gray eyes. Then she shook her head and glanced up at the icons\r
+with a sigh. This might have been taken as an expression of sorrow and\r
+devotion, or of weariness and hope of resting before long. Prince Vasili\r
+understood it as an expression of weariness.\r
+\r
+"And I?" he said; "do you think it is easier for me? I am as worn out as\r
+a post horse, but still I must have a talk with you, Catiche, a very\r
+serious talk."\r
+\r
+Prince Vasili said no more and his cheeks began to twitch nervously, now\r
+on one side, now on the other, giving his face an unpleasant expression\r
+which was never to be seen on it in a drawing room. His eyes too seemed\r
+strange; at one moment they looked impudently sly and at the next\r
+glanced round in alarm.\r
+\r
+The princess, holding her little dog on her lap with her thin bony\r
+hands, looked attentively into Prince Vasili's eyes evidently resolved\r
+not to be the first to break silence, if she had to wait till morning.\r
+\r
+"Well, you see, my dear princess and cousin, Catherine Semenovna,"\r
+continued Prince Vasili, returning to his theme, apparently not without\r
+an inner struggle; "at such a moment as this one must think of\r
+everything. One must think of the future, of all of you... I love you\r
+all, like children of my own, as you know."\r
+\r
+The princess continued to look at him without moving, and with the same\r
+dull expression.\r
+\r
+"And then of course my family has also to be considered," Prince Vasili\r
+went on, testily pushing away a little table without looking at her.\r
+"You know, Catiche, that we--you three sisters, Mamontov, and my wife--\r
+are the count's only direct heirs. I know, I know how hard it is for you\r
+to talk or think of such matters. It is no easier for me; but, my dear,\r
+I am getting on for sixty and must be prepared for anything. Do you know\r
+I have sent for Pierre? The count," pointing to his portrait,\r
+"definitely demanded that he should be called."\r
+\r
+Prince Vasili looked questioningly at the princess, but could not make\r
+out whether she was considering what he had just said or whether she was\r
+simply looking at him.\r
+\r
+"There is one thing I constantly pray God to grant, mon cousin," she\r
+replied, "and it is that He would be merciful to him and would allow his\r
+noble soul peacefully to leave this..."\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes, of course," interrupted Prince Vasili impatiently, rubbing\r
+his bald head and angrily pulling back toward him the little table that\r
+he had pushed away. "But... in short, the fact is... you know yourself\r
+that last winter the count made a will by which he left all his\r
+property, not to us his direct heirs, but to Pierre."\r
+\r
+"He has made wills enough!" quietly remarked the princess. "But he\r
+cannot leave the estate to Pierre. Pierre is illegitimate."\r
+\r
+"But, my dear," said Prince Vasili suddenly, clutching the little table\r
+and becoming more animated and talking more rapidly: "what if a letter\r
+has been written to the Emperor in which the count asks for Pierre's\r
+legitimation? Do you understand that in consideration of the count's\r
+services, his request would be granted?..."\r
+\r
+The princess smiled as people do who think they know more about the\r
+subject under discussion than those they are talking with.\r
+\r
+"I can tell you more," continued Prince Vasili, seizing her hand, "that\r
+letter was written, though it was not sent, and the Emperor knew of it.\r
+The only question is, has it been destroyed or not? If not, then as soon\r
+as all is over," and Prince Vasili sighed to intimate what he meant by\r
+the words all is over, "and the count's papers are opened, the will and\r
+letter will be delivered to the Emperor, and the petition will certainly\r
+be granted. Pierre will get everything as the legitimate son."\r
+\r
+"And our share?" asked the princess smiling ironically, as if anything\r
+might happen, only not that.\r
+\r
+"But, my poor Catiche, it is as clear as daylight! He will then be the\r
+legal heir to everything and you won't get anything. You must know, my\r
+dear, whether the will and letter were written, and whether they have\r
+been destroyed or not. And if they have somehow been overlooked, you\r
+ought to know where they are, and must find them, because..."\r
+\r
+"What next?" the princess interrupted, smiling sardonically and not\r
+changing the expression of her eyes. "I am a woman, and you think we are\r
+all stupid; but I know this: an illegitimate son cannot inherit... un\r
+batard!" * she added, as if supposing that this translation of the word\r
+would effectively prove to Prince Vasili the invalidity of his\r
+contention.\r
+\r
+\r
+* A bastard.\r
+\r
+"Well, really, Catiche! Can't you understand! You are so intelligent,\r
+how is it you don't see that if the count has written a letter to the\r
+Emperor begging him to recognize Pierre as legitimate, it follows that\r
+Pierre will not be Pierre but will become Count Bezukhov, and will then\r
+inherit everything under the will? And if the will and letter are not\r
+destroyed, then you will have nothing but the consolation of having been\r
+dutiful et tout ce qui s'ensuit! * That's certain."\r
+\r
+\r
+* And all that follows therefrom.\r
+\r
+"I know the will was made, but I also know that it is invalid; and you,\r
+mon cousin, seem to consider me a perfect fool," said the princess with\r
+the expression women assume when they suppose they are saying something\r
+witty and stinging.\r
+\r
+"My dear Princess Catherine Semenovna," began Prince Vasili impatiently,\r
+"I came here not to wrangle with you, but to talk about your interests\r
+as with a kinswoman, a good, kind, true relation. And I tell you for the\r
+tenth time that if the letter to the Emperor and the will in Pierre's\r
+favor are among the count's papers, then, my dear girl, you and your\r
+sisters are not heiresses! If you don't believe me, then believe an\r
+expert. I have just been talking to Dmitri Onufrich" (the family\r
+solicitor) "and he says the same."\r
+\r
+At this a sudden change evidently took place in the princess' ideas; her\r
+thin lips grew white, though her eyes did not change, and her voice when\r
+she began to speak passed through such transitions as she herself\r
+evidently did not expect.\r
+\r
+"That would be a fine thing!" said she. "I never wanted anything and I\r
+don't now."\r
+\r
+She pushed the little dog off her lap and smoothed her dress.\r
+\r
+"And this is gratitude--this is recognition for those who have\r
+sacrificed everything for his sake!" she cried. "It's splendid! Fine! I\r
+don't want anything, Prince."\r
+\r
+"Yes, but you are not the only one. There are your sisters..." replied\r
+Prince Vasili.\r
+\r
+But the princess did not listen to him.\r
+\r
+"Yes, I knew it long ago but had forgotten. I knew that I could expect\r
+nothing but meanness, deceit, envy, intrigue, and ingratitude--the\r
+blackest ingratitude--in this house..."\r
+\r
+"Do you or do you not know where that will is?" insisted Prince Vasili,\r
+his cheeks twitching more than ever.\r
+\r
+"Yes, I was a fool! I still believed in people, loved them, and\r
+sacrificed myself. But only the base, the vile succeed! I know who has\r
+been intriguing!"\r
+\r
+The princess wished to rise, but the prince held her by the hand. She\r
+had the air of one who has suddenly lost faith in the whole human race.\r
+She gave her companion an angry glance.\r
+\r
+"There is still time, my dear. You must remember, Catiche, that it was\r
+all done casually in a moment of anger, of illness, and was afterwards\r
+forgotten. Our duty, my dear, is to rectify his mistake, to ease his\r
+last moments by not letting him commit this injustice, and not to let\r
+him die feeling that he is rendering unhappy those who..."\r
+\r
+"Who sacrificed everything for him," chimed in the princess, who would\r
+again have risen had not the prince still held her fast, "though he\r
+never could appreciate it. No, mon cousin," she added with a sigh, "I\r
+shall always remember that in this world one must expect no reward, that\r
+in this world there is neither honor nor justice. In this world one has\r
+to be cunning and cruel."\r
+\r
+"Now come, come! Be reasonable. I know your excellent heart."\r
+\r
+"No, I have a wicked heart."\r
+\r
+"I know your heart," repeated the prince. "I value your friendship and\r
+wish you to have as good an opinion of me. Don't upset yourself, and let\r
+us talk sensibly while there is still time, be it a day or be it but an\r
+hour.... Tell me all you know about the will, and above all where it is.\r
+You must know. We will take it at once and show it to the count. He has,\r
+no doubt, forgotten it and will wish to destroy it. You understand that\r
+my sole desire is conscientiously to carry out his wishes; that is my\r
+only reason for being here. I came simply to help him and you."\r
+\r
+"Now I see it all! I know who has been intriguing--I know!" cried the\r
+princess.\r
+\r
+"That's not the point, my dear."\r
+\r
+"It's that protege of yours, that sweet Princess Drubetskaya, that Anna\r
+Mikhaylovna whom I would not take for a housemaid... the infamous, vile\r
+woman!"\r
+\r
+"Do not let us lose any time..."\r
+\r
+"Ah, don't talk to me! Last winter she wheedled herself in here and told\r
+the count such vile, disgraceful things about us, especially about\r
+Sophie--I can't repeat them--that it made the count quite ill and he\r
+would not see us for a whole fortnight. I know it was then he wrote this\r
+vile, infamous paper, but I thought the thing was invalid."\r
+\r
+"We've got to it at last--why did you not tell me about it sooner?"\r
+\r
+"It's in the inlaid portfolio that he keeps under his pillow," said the\r
+princess, ignoring his question. "Now I know! Yes; if I have a sin, a\r
+great sin, it is hatred of that vile woman!" almost shrieked the\r
+princess, now quite changed. "And what does she come worming herself in\r
+here for? But I will give her a piece of my mind. The time will come!"\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXII\r
+\r
+While these conversations were going on in the reception room and the\r
+princess' room, a carriage containing Pierre (who had been sent for) and\r
+Anna Mikhaylovna (who found it necessary to accompany him) was driving\r
+into the court of Count Bezukhov's house. As the wheels rolled softly\r
+over the straw beneath the windows, Anna Mikhaylovna, having turned with\r
+words of comfort to her companion, realized that he was asleep in his\r
+corner and woke him up. Rousing himself, Pierre followed Anna\r
+Mikhaylovna out of the carriage, and only then began to think of the\r
+interview with his dying father which awaited him. He noticed that they\r
+had not come to the front entrance but to the back door. While he was\r
+getting down from the carriage steps two men, who looked like\r
+tradespeople, ran hurriedly from the entrance and hid in the shadow of\r
+the wall. Pausing for a moment, Pierre noticed several other men of the\r
+same kind hiding in the shadow of the house on both sides. But neither\r
+Anna Mikhaylovna nor the footman nor the coachman, who could not help\r
+seeing these people, took any notice of them. "It seems to be all\r
+right," Pierre concluded, and followed Anna Mikhaylovna. She hurriedly\r
+ascended the narrow dimly lit stone staircase, calling to Pierre, who\r
+was lagging behind, to follow. Though he did not see why it was\r
+necessary for him to go to the count at all, still less why he had to go\r
+by the back stairs, yet judging by Anna Mikhaylovna's air of assurance\r
+and haste, Pierre concluded that it was all absolutely necessary.\r
+Halfway up the stairs they were almost knocked over by some men who,\r
+carrying pails, came running downstairs, their boots clattering. These\r
+men pressed close to the wall to let Pierre and Anna Mikhaylovna pass\r
+and did not evince the least surprise at seeing them there.\r
+\r
+"Is this the way to the princesses' apartments?" asked Anna Mikhaylovna\r
+of one of them.\r
+\r
+"Yes," replied a footman in a bold loud voice, as if anything were now\r
+permissible; "the door to the left, ma'am."\r
+\r
+"Perhaps the count did not ask for me," said Pierre when he reached the\r
+landing. "I'd better go to my own room."\r
+\r
+Anna Mikhaylovna paused and waited for him to come up.\r
+\r
+"Ah, my friend!" she said, touching his arm as she had done her son's\r
+when speaking to him that afternoon, "believe me I suffer no less than\r
+you do, but be a man!"\r
+\r
+"But really, hadn't I better go away?" he asked, looking kindly at her\r
+over his spectacles.\r
+\r
+"Ah, my dear friend! Forget the wrongs that may have been done you.\r
+Think that he is your father... perhaps in the agony of death." She\r
+sighed. "I have loved you like a son from the first. Trust yourself to\r
+me, Pierre. I shall not forget your interests."\r
+\r
+Pierre did not understand a word, but the conviction that all this had\r
+to be grew stronger, and he meekly followed Anna Mikhaylovna who was\r
+already opening a door.\r
+\r
+This door led into a back anteroom. An old man, a servant of the\r
+princesses, sat in a corner knitting a stocking. Pierre had never been\r
+in this part of the house and did not even know of the existence of\r
+these rooms. Anna Mikhaylovna, addressing a maid who was hurrying past\r
+with a decanter on a tray as "my dear" and "my sweet," asked about the\r
+princess' health and then led Pierre along a stone passage. The first\r
+door on the left led into the princesses' apartments. The maid with the\r
+decanter in her haste had not closed the door (everything in the house\r
+was done in haste at that time), and Pierre and Anna Mikhaylovna in\r
+passing instinctively glanced into the room, where Prince Vasili and the\r
+eldest princess were sitting close together talking. Seeing them pass,\r
+Prince Vasili drew back with obvious impatience, while the princess\r
+jumped up and with a gesture of desperation slammed the door with all\r
+her might.\r
+\r
+This action was so unlike her usual composure and the fear depicted on\r
+Prince Vasili's face so out of keeping with his dignity that Pierre\r
+stopped and glanced inquiringly over his spectacles at his guide. Anna\r
+Mikhaylovna evinced no surprise, she only smiled faintly and sighed, as\r
+if to say that this was no more than she had expected.\r
+\r
+"Be a man, my friend. I will look after your interests," said she in\r
+reply to his look, and went still faster along the passage.\r
+\r
+Pierre could not make out what it was all about, and still less what\r
+"watching over his interests" meant, but he decided that all these\r
+things had to be. From the passage they went into a large, dimly lit\r
+room adjoining the count's reception room. It was one of those sumptuous\r
+but cold apartments known to Pierre only from the front approach, but\r
+even in this room there now stood an empty bath, and water had been\r
+spilled on the carpet. They were met by a deacon with a censer and by a\r
+servant who passed out on tiptoe without heeding them. They went into\r
+the reception room familiar to Pierre, with two Italian windows opening\r
+into the conservatory, with its large bust and full length portrait of\r
+Catherine the Great. The same people were still sitting here in almost\r
+the same positions as before, whispering to one another. All became\r
+silent and turned to look at the pale tear-worn Anna Mikhaylovna as she\r
+entered, and at the big stout figure of Pierre who, hanging his head,\r
+meekly followed her.\r
+\r
+Anna Mikhaylovna's face expressed a consciousness that the decisive\r
+moment had arrived. With the air of a practical Petersburg lady she now,\r
+keeping Pierre close beside her, entered the room even more boldly than\r
+that afternoon. She felt that as she brought with her the person the\r
+dying man wished to see, her own admission was assured. Casting a rapid\r
+glance at all those in the room and noticing the count's confessor\r
+there, she glided up to him with a sort of amble, not exactly bowing yet\r
+seeming to grow suddenly smaller, and respectfully received the blessing\r
+first of one and then of another priest.\r
+\r
+"God be thanked that you are in time," said she to one of the priests;\r
+"all we relatives have been in such anxiety. This young man is the\r
+count's son," she added more softly. "What a terrible moment!"\r
+\r
+Having said this she went up to the doctor.\r
+\r
+"Dear doctor," said she, "this young man is the count's son. Is there\r
+any hope?"\r
+\r
+The doctor cast a rapid glance upwards and silently shrugged his\r
+shoulders. Anna Mikhaylovna with just the same movement raised her\r
+shoulders and eyes, almost closing the latter, sighed, and moved away\r
+from the doctor to Pierre. To him, in a particularly respectful and\r
+tenderly sad voice, she said:\r
+\r
+"Trust in His mercy!" and pointing out a small sofa for him to sit and\r
+wait for her, she went silently toward the door that everyone was\r
+watching and it creaked very slightly as she disappeared behind it.\r
+\r
+Pierre, having made up his mind to obey his monitress implicitly, moved\r
+toward the sofa she had indicated. As soon as Anna Mikhaylovna had\r
+disappeared he noticed that the eyes of all in the room turned to him\r
+with something more than curiosity and sympathy. He noticed that they\r
+whispered to one another, casting significant looks at him with a kind\r
+of awe and even servility. A deference such as he had never before\r
+received was shown him. A strange lady, the one who had been talking to\r
+the priests, rose and offered him her seat; an aide-de-camp picked up\r
+and returned a glove Pierre had dropped; the doctors became respectfully\r
+silent as he passed by, and moved to make way for him. At first Pierre\r
+wished to take another seat so as not to trouble the lady, and also to\r
+pick up the glove himself and to pass round the doctors who were not\r
+even in his way; but all at once he felt that this would not do, and\r
+that tonight he was a person obliged to perform some sort of awful rite\r
+which everyone expected of him, and that he was therefore bound to\r
+accept their services. He took the glove in silence from the aide-de-\r
+camp, and sat down in the lady's chair, placing his huge hands\r
+symmetrically on his knees in the naive attitude of an Egyptian statue,\r
+and decided in his own mind that all was as it should be, and that in\r
+order not to lose his head and do foolish things he must not act on his\r
+own ideas tonight, but must yield himself up entirely to the will of\r
+those who were guiding him.\r
+\r
+Not two minutes had passed before Prince Vasili with head erect\r
+majestically entered the room. He was wearing his long coat with three\r
+stars on his breast. He seemed to have grown thinner since the morning;\r
+his eyes seemed larger than usual when he glanced round and noticed\r
+Pierre. He went up to him, took his hand (a thing he never used to do),\r
+and drew it downwards as if wishing to ascertain whether it was firmly\r
+fixed on.\r
+\r
+"Courage, courage, my friend! He has asked to see you. That is well!"\r
+and he turned to go.\r
+\r
+But Pierre thought it necessary to ask: "How is..." and hesitated, not\r
+knowing whether it would be proper to call the dying man "the count,"\r
+yet ashamed to call him "father."\r
+\r
+"He had another stroke about half an hour ago. Courage, my friend..."\r
+\r
+Pierre's mind was in such a confused state that the word "stroke"\r
+suggested to him a blow from something. He looked at Prince Vasili in\r
+perplexity, and only later grasped that a stroke was an attack of\r
+illness. Prince Vasili said something to Lorrain in passing and went\r
+through the door on tiptoe. He could not walk well on tiptoe and his\r
+whole body jerked at each step. The eldest princess followed him, and\r
+the priests and deacons and some servants also went in at the door.\r
+Through that door was heard a noise of things being moved about, and at\r
+last Anna Mikhaylovna, still with the same expression, pale but resolute\r
+in the discharge of duty, ran out and touching Pierre lightly on the arm\r
+said:\r
+\r
+"The divine mercy is inexhaustible! Unction is about to be administered.\r
+Come."\r
+\r
+Pierre went in at the door, stepping on the soft carpet, and noticed\r
+that the strange lady, the aide-de-camp, and some of the servants, all\r
+followed him in, as if there were now no further need for permission to\r
+enter that room.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXIII\r
+\r
+Pierre well knew this large room divided by columns and an arch, its\r
+walls hung round with Persian carpets. The part of the room behind the\r
+columns, with a high silk-curtained mahogany bedstead on one side and on\r
+the other an immense case containing icons, was brightly illuminated\r
+with red light like a Russian church during evening service. Under the\r
+gleaming icons stood a long invalid chair, and in that chair on snowy-\r
+white smooth pillows, evidently freshly changed, Pierre saw--covered to\r
+the waist by a bright green quilt--the familiar, majestic figure of his\r
+father, Count Bezukhov, with that gray mane of hair above his broad\r
+forehead which reminded one of a lion, and the deep characteristically\r
+noble wrinkles of his handsome, ruddy face. He lay just under the icons;\r
+his large thick hands outside the quilt. Into the right hand, which was\r
+lying palm downwards, a wax taper had been thrust between forefinger and\r
+thumb, and an old servant, bending over from behind the chair, held it\r
+in position. By the chair stood the priests, their long hair falling\r
+over their magnificent glittering vestments, with lighted tapers in\r
+their hands, slowly and solemnly conducting the service. A little behind\r
+them stood the two younger princesses holding handkerchiefs to their\r
+eyes, and just in front of them their eldest sister, Catiche, with a\r
+vicious and determined look steadily fixed on the icons, as though\r
+declaring to all that she could not answer for herself should she glance\r
+round. Anna Mikhaylovna, with a meek, sorrowful, and all-forgiving\r
+expression on her face, stood by the door near the strange lady. Prince\r
+Vasili in front of the door, near the invalid chair, a wax taper in his\r
+left hand, was leaning his left arm on the carved back of a velvet chair\r
+he had turned round for the purpose, and was crossing himself with his\r
+right hand, turning his eyes upward each time he touched his forehead.\r
+His face wore a calm look of piety and resignation to the will of God.\r
+"If you do not understand these sentiments," he seemed to be saying, "so\r
+much the worse for you!"\r
+\r
+Behind him stood the aide-de-camp, the doctors, and the menservants; the\r
+men and women had separated as in church. All were silently crossing\r
+themselves, and the reading of the church service, the subdued chanting\r
+of deep bass voices, and in the intervals sighs and the shuffling of\r
+feet were the only sounds that could be heard. Anna Mikhaylovna, with an\r
+air of importance that showed that she felt she quite knew what she was\r
+about, went across the room to where Pierre was standing and gave him a\r
+taper. He lit it and, distracted by observing those around him, began\r
+crossing himself with the hand that held the taper.\r
+\r
+Sophie, the rosy, laughter-loving, youngest princess with the mole,\r
+watched him. She smiled, hid her face in her handkerchief, and remained\r
+with it hidden for awhile; then looking up and seeing Pierre she again\r
+began to laugh. She evidently felt unable to look at him without\r
+laughing, but could not resist looking at him: so to be out of\r
+temptation she slipped quietly behind one of the columns. In the midst\r
+of the service the voices of the priests suddenly ceased, they whispered\r
+to one another, and the old servant who was holding the count's hand got\r
+up and said something to the ladies. Anna Mikhaylovna stepped forward\r
+and, stooping over the dying man, beckoned to Lorrain from behind her\r
+back. The French doctor held no taper; he was leaning against one of the\r
+columns in a respectful attitude implying that he, a foreigner, in spite\r
+of all differences of faith, understood the full importance of the rite\r
+now being performed and even approved of it. He now approached the sick\r
+man with the noiseless step of one in full vigor of life, with his\r
+delicate white fingers raised from the green quilt the hand that was\r
+free, and turning sideways felt the pulse and reflected a moment. The\r
+sick man was given something to drink, there was a stir around him, then\r
+the people resumed their places and the service continued. During this\r
+interval Pierre noticed that Prince Vasili left the chair on which he\r
+had been leaning, and--with an air which intimated that he knew what he\r
+was about and if others did not understand him it was so much the worse\r
+for them--did not go up to the dying man, but passed by him, joined the\r
+eldest princess, and moved with her to the side of the room where stood\r
+the high bedstead with its silken hangings. On leaving the bed both\r
+Prince Vasili and the princess passed out by a back door, but returned\r
+to their places one after the other before the service was concluded.\r
+Pierre paid no more attention to this occurrence than to the rest of\r
+what went on, having made up his mind once for all that what he saw\r
+happening around him that evening was in some way essential.\r
+\r
+The chanting of the service ceased, and the voice of the priest was\r
+heard respectfully congratulating the dying man on having received the\r
+sacrament. The dying man lay as lifeless and immovable as before. Around\r
+him everyone began to stir: steps were audible and whispers, among which\r
+Anna Mikhaylovna's was the most distinct.\r
+\r
+Pierre heard her say:\r
+\r
+"Certainly he must be moved onto the bed; here it will be impossible..."\r
+\r
+The sick man was so surrounded by doctors, princesses, and servants that\r
+Pierre could no longer see the reddish-yellow face with its gray mane--\r
+which, though he saw other faces as well, he had not lost sight of for a\r
+single moment during the whole service. He judged by the cautious\r
+movements of those who crowded round the invalid chair that they had\r
+lifted the dying man and were moving him.\r
+\r
+"Catch hold of my arm or you'll drop him!" he heard one of the servants\r
+say in a frightened whisper. "Catch hold from underneath. Here!"\r
+exclaimed different voices; and the heavy breathing of the bearers and\r
+the shuffling of their feet grew more hurried, as if the weight they\r
+were carrying were too much for them.\r
+\r
+As the bearers, among whom was Anna Mikhaylovna, passed the young man he\r
+caught a momentary glimpse between their heads and backs of the dying\r
+man's high, stout, uncovered chest and powerful shoulders, raised by\r
+those who were holding him under the armpits, and of his gray, curly,\r
+leonine head. This head, with its remarkably broad brow and cheekbones,\r
+its handsome, sensual mouth, and its cold, majestic expression, was not\r
+disfigured by the approach of death. It was the same as Pierre\r
+remembered it three months before, when the count had sent him to\r
+Petersburg. But now this head was swaying helplessly with the uneven\r
+movements of the bearers, and the cold listless gaze fixed itself upon\r
+nothing.\r
+\r
+After a few minutes' bustle beside the high bedstead, those who had\r
+carried the sick man dispersed. Anna Mikhaylovna touched Pierre's hand\r
+and said, "Come." Pierre went with her to the bed on which the sick man\r
+had been laid in a stately pose in keeping with the ceremony just\r
+completed. He lay with his head propped high on the pillows. His hands\r
+were symmetrically placed on the green silk quilt, the palms downward.\r
+When Pierre came up the count was gazing straight at him, but with a\r
+look the significance of which could not be understood by mortal man.\r
+Either this look meant nothing but that as long as one has eyes they\r
+must look somewhere, or it meant too much. Pierre hesitated, not knowing\r
+what to do, and glanced inquiringly at his guide. Anna Mikhaylovna made\r
+a hurried sign with her eyes, glancing at the sick man's hand and moving\r
+her lips as if to send it a kiss. Pierre, carefully stretching his neck\r
+so as not to touch the quilt, followed her suggestion and pressed his\r
+lips to the large boned, fleshy hand. Neither the hand nor a single\r
+muscle of the count's face stirred. Once more Pierre looked\r
+questioningly at Anna Mikhaylovna to see what he was to do next. Anna\r
+Mikhaylovna with her eyes indicated a chair that stood beside the bed.\r
+Pierre obediently sat down, his eyes asking if he were doing right. Anna\r
+Mikhaylovna nodded approvingly. Again Pierre fell into the naively\r
+symmetrical pose of an Egyptian statue, evidently distressed that his\r
+stout and clumsy body took up so much room and doing his utmost to look\r
+as small as possible. He looked at the count, who still gazed at the\r
+spot where Pierre's face had been before he sat down. Anna Mikhaylovna\r
+indicated by her attitude her consciousness of the pathetic importance\r
+of these last moments of meeting between the father and son. This lasted\r
+about two minutes, which to Pierre seemed an hour. Suddenly the broad\r
+muscles and lines of the count's face began to twitch. The twitching\r
+increased, the handsome mouth was drawn to one side (only now did Pierre\r
+realize how near death his father was), and from that distorted mouth\r
+issued an indistinct, hoarse sound. Anna Mikhaylovna looked attentively\r
+at the sick man's eyes, trying to guess what he wanted; she pointed\r
+first to Pierre, then to some drink, then named Prince Vasili in an\r
+inquiring whisper, then pointed to the quilt. The eyes and face of the\r
+sick man showed impatience. He made an effort to look at the servant who\r
+stood constantly at the head of the bed.\r
+\r
+"Wants to turn on the other side," whispered the servant, and got up to\r
+turn the count's heavy body toward the wall.\r
+\r
+Pierre rose to help him.\r
+\r
+While the count was being turned over, one of his arms fell back\r
+helplessly and he made a fruitless effort to pull it forward. Whether he\r
+noticed the look of terror with which Pierre regarded that lifeless arm,\r
+or whether some other thought flitted across his dying brain, at any\r
+rate he glanced at the refractory arm, at Pierre's terror-stricken face,\r
+and again at the arm, and on his face a feeble, piteous smile appeared,\r
+quite out of keeping with his features, that seemed to deride his own\r
+helplessness. At sight of this smile Pierre felt an unexpected quivering\r
+in his breast and a tickling in his nose, and tears dimmed his eyes. The\r
+sick man was turned on to his side with his face to the wall. He sighed.\r
+\r
+"He is dozing," said Anna Mikhaylovna, observing that one of the\r
+princesses was coming to take her turn at watching. "Let us go."\r
+\r
+Pierre went out.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXIV\r
+\r
+There was now no one in the reception room except Prince Vasili and the\r
+eldest princess, who were sitting under the portrait of Catherine the\r
+Great and talking eagerly. As soon as they saw Pierre and his companion\r
+they became silent, and Pierre thought he saw the princess hide\r
+something as she whispered:\r
+\r
+"I can't bear the sight of that woman."\r
+\r
+"Catiche has had tea served in the small drawing room," said Prince\r
+Vasili to Anna Mikhaylovna. "Go and take something, my poor Anna\r
+Mikhaylovna, or you will not hold out."\r
+\r
+To Pierre he said nothing, merely giving his arm a sympathetic squeeze\r
+below the shoulder. Pierre went with Anna Mikhaylovna into the small\r
+drawing room.\r
+\r
+"There is nothing so refreshing after a sleepless night as a cup of this\r
+delicious Russian tea," Lorrain was saying with an air of restrained\r
+animation as he stood sipping tea from a delicate Chinese handleless cup\r
+before a table on which tea and a cold supper were laid in the small\r
+circular room. Around the table all who were at Count Bezukhov's house\r
+that night had gathered to fortify themselves. Pierre well remembered\r
+this small circular drawing room with its mirrors and little tables.\r
+During balls given at the house Pierre, who did not know how to dance,\r
+had liked sitting in this room to watch the ladies who, as they passed\r
+through in their ball dresses with diamonds and pearls on their bare\r
+shoulders, looked at themselves in the brilliantly lighted mirrors which\r
+repeated their reflections several times. Now this same room was dimly\r
+lighted by two candles. On one small table tea things and supper dishes\r
+stood in disorder, and in the middle of the night a motley throng of\r
+people sat there, not merrymaking, but somberly whispering, and\r
+betraying by every word and movement that they none of them forgot what\r
+was happening and what was about to happen in the bedroom. Pierre did\r
+not eat anything though he would very much have liked to. He looked\r
+inquiringly at his monitress and saw that she was again going on tiptoe\r
+to the reception room where they had left Prince Vasili and the eldest\r
+princess. Pierre concluded that this also was essential, and after a\r
+short interval followed her. Anna Mikhaylovna was standing beside the\r
+princess, and they were both speaking in excited whispers.\r
+\r
+"Permit me, Princess, to know what is necessary and what is not\r
+necessary," said the younger of the two speakers, evidently in the same\r
+state of excitement as when she had slammed the door of her room.\r
+\r
+"But, my dear princess," answered Anna Mikhaylovna blandly but\r
+impressively, blocking the way to the bedroom and preventing the other\r
+from passing, "won't this be too much for poor Uncle at a moment when he\r
+needs repose? Worldly conversation at a moment when his soul is already\r
+prepared..."\r
+\r
+Prince Vasili was seated in an easy chair in his familiar attitude, with\r
+one leg crossed high above the other. His cheeks, which were so flabby\r
+that they looked heavier below, were twitching violently; but he wore\r
+the air of a man little concerned in what the two ladies were saying.\r
+\r
+"Come, my dear Anna Mikhaylovna, let Catiche do as she pleases. You know\r
+how fond the count is of her."\r
+\r
+"I don't even know what is in this paper," said the younger of the two\r
+ladies, addressing Prince Vasili and pointing to an inlaid portfolio she\r
+held in her hand. "All I know is that his real will is in his writing\r
+table, and this is a paper he has forgotten...."\r
+\r
+She tried to pass Anna Mikhaylovna, but the latter sprang so as to bar\r
+her path.\r
+\r
+"I know, my dear, kind princess," said Anna Mikhaylovna, seizing the\r
+portfolio so firmly that it was plain she would not let go easily. "Dear\r
+princess, I beg and implore you, have some pity on him! Je vous en\r
+conjure..."\r
+\r
+The princess did not reply. Their efforts in the struggle for the\r
+portfolio were the only sounds audible, but it was evident that if the\r
+princess did speak, her words would not be flattering to Anna\r
+Mikhaylovna. Though the latter held on tenaciously, her voice lost none\r
+of its honeyed firmness and softness.\r
+\r
+"Pierre, my dear, come here. I think he will not be out of place in a\r
+family consultation; is it not so, Prince?"\r
+\r
+"Why don't you speak, cousin?" suddenly shrieked the princess so loud\r
+that those in the drawing room heard her and were startled. "Why do you\r
+remain silent when heaven knows who permits herself to interfere, making\r
+a scene on the very threshold of a dying man's room? Intriguer!" she\r
+hissed viciously, and tugged with all her might at the portfolio.\r
+\r
+But Anna Mikhaylovna went forward a step or two to keep her hold on the\r
+portfolio, and changed her grip.\r
+\r
+Prince Vasili rose. "Oh!" said he with reproach and surprise, "this is\r
+absurd! Come, let go I tell you."\r
+\r
+The princess let go.\r
+\r
+"And you too!"\r
+\r
+But Anna Mikhaylovna did not obey him.\r
+\r
+"Let go, I tell you! I will take the responsibility. I myself will go\r
+and ask him, I!... does that satisfy you?"\r
+\r
+"But, Prince," said Anna Mikhaylovna, "after such a solemn sacrament,\r
+allow him a moment's peace! Here, Pierre, tell them your opinion," said\r
+she, turning to the young man who, having come quite close, was gazing\r
+with astonishment at the angry face of the princess which had lost all\r
+dignity, and at the twitching cheeks of Prince Vasili.\r
+\r
+"Remember that you will answer for the consequences," said Prince Vasili\r
+severely. "You don't know what you are doing."\r
+\r
+"Vile woman!" shouted the princess, darting unexpectedly at Anna\r
+Mikhaylovna and snatching the portfolio from her.\r
+\r
+Prince Vasili bent his head and spread out his hands.\r
+\r
+At this moment that terrible door, which Pierre had watched so long and\r
+which had always opened so quietly, burst noisily open and banged\r
+against the wall, and the second of the three sisters rushed out\r
+wringing her hands.\r
+\r
+"What are you doing!" she cried vehemently. "He is dying and you leave\r
+me alone with him!"\r
+\r
+Her sister dropped the portfolio. Anna Mikhaylovna, stooping, quickly\r
+caught up the object of contention and ran into the bedroom. The eldest\r
+princess and Prince Vasili, recovering themselves, followed her. A few\r
+minutes later the eldest sister came out with a pale hard face, again\r
+biting her underlip. At sight of Pierre her expression showed an\r
+irrepressible hatred.\r
+\r
+"Yes, now you may be glad!" said she; "this is what you have been\r
+waiting for." And bursting into tears she hid her face in her\r
+handkerchief and rushed from the room.\r
+\r
+Prince Vasili came next. He staggered to the sofa on which Pierre was\r
+sitting and dropped onto it, covering his face with his hand. Pierre\r
+noticed that he was pale and that his jaw quivered and shook as if in an\r
+ague.\r
+\r
+"Ah, my friend!" said he, taking Pierre by the elbow; and there was in\r
+his voice a sincerity and weakness Pierre had never observed in it\r
+before. "How often we sin, how much we deceive, and all for what? I am\r
+near sixty, dear friend... I too... All will end in death, all! Death is\r
+awful..." and he burst into tears.\r
+\r
+Anna Mikhaylovna came out last. She approached Pierre with slow, quiet\r
+steps.\r
+\r
+"Pierre!" she said.\r
+\r
+Pierre gave her an inquiring look. She kissed the young man on his\r
+forehead, wetting him with her tears. Then after a pause she said:\r
+\r
+"He is no more...."\r
+\r
+Pierre looked at her over his spectacles.\r
+\r
+"Come, I will go with you. Try to weep, nothing gives such relief as\r
+tears."\r
+\r
+She led him into the dark drawing room and Pierre was glad no one could\r
+see his face. Anna Mikhaylovna left him, and when she returned he was\r
+fast asleep with his head on his arm.\r
+\r
+In the morning Anna Mikhaylovna said to Pierre:\r
+\r
+"Yes, my dear, this is a great loss for us all, not to speak of you. But\r
+God will support you: you are young, and are now, I hope, in command of\r
+an immense fortune. The will has not yet been opened. I know you well\r
+enough to be sure that this will not turn your head, but it imposes\r
+duties on you, and you must be a man."\r
+\r
+Pierre was silent.\r
+\r
+"Perhaps later on I may tell you, my dear boy, that if I had not been\r
+there, God only knows what would have happened! You know, Uncle promised\r
+me only the day before yesterday not to forget Boris. But he had no\r
+time. I hope, my dear friend, you will carry out your father's wish?"\r
+\r
+Pierre understood nothing of all this and coloring shyly looked in\r
+silence at Princess Anna Mikhaylovna. After her talk with Pierre, Anna\r
+Mikhaylovna returned to the Rostovs' and went to bed. On waking in the\r
+morning she told the Rostovs and all her acquaintances the details of\r
+Count Bezukhov's death. She said the count had died as she would herself\r
+wish to die, that his end was not only touching but edifying. As to the\r
+last meeting between father and son, it was so touching that she could\r
+not think of it without tears, and did not know which had behaved better\r
+during those awful moments--the father who so remembered everything and\r
+everybody at last and had spoken such pathetic words to the son, or\r
+Pierre, whom it had been pitiful to see, so stricken was he with grief,\r
+though he tried hard to hide it in order not to sadden his dying father.\r
+"It is painful, but it does one good. It uplifts the soul to see such\r
+men as the old count and his worthy son," said she. Of the behavior of\r
+the eldest princess and Prince Vasili she spoke disapprovingly, but in\r
+whispers and as a great secret.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXV\r
+\r
+At Bald Hills, Prince Nicholas Andreevich Bolkonski's estate, the\r
+arrival of young Prince Andrew and his wife was daily expected, but this\r
+expectation did not upset the regular routine of life in the old\r
+prince's household. General in Chief Prince Nicholas Andreevich\r
+(nicknamed in society, "the King of Prussia") ever since the Emperor\r
+Paul had exiled him to his country estate had lived there continuously\r
+with his daughter, Princess Mary, and her companion, Mademoiselle\r
+Bourienne. Though in the new reign he was free to return to the\r
+capitals, he still continued to live in the country, remarking that\r
+anyone who wanted to see him could come the hundred miles from Moscow to\r
+Bald Hills, while he himself needed no one and nothing. He used to say\r
+that there are only two sources of human vice--idleness and\r
+superstition, and only two virtues--activity and intelligence. He\r
+himself undertook his daughter's education, and to develop these two\r
+cardinal virtues in her gave her lessons in algebra and geometry till\r
+she was twenty, and arranged her life so that her whole time was\r
+occupied. He was himself always occupied: writing his memoirs, solving\r
+problems in higher mathematics, turning snuffboxes on a lathe, working\r
+in the garden, or superintending the building that was always going on\r
+at his estate. As regularity is a prime condition facilitating activity,\r
+regularity in his household was carried to the highest point of\r
+exactitude. He always came to table under precisely the same conditions,\r
+and not only at the same hour but at the same minute. With those about\r
+him, from his daughter to his serfs, the prince was sharp and invariably\r
+exacting, so that without being a hardhearted man he inspired such fear\r
+and respect as few hardhearted men would have aroused. Although he was\r
+in retirement and had now no influence in political affairs, every high\r
+official appointed to the province in which the prince's estate lay\r
+considered it his duty to visit him and waited in the lofty antechamber\r
+just as the architect, gardener, or Princess Mary did, till the prince\r
+appeared punctually to the appointed hour. Everyone sitting in this\r
+antechamber experienced the same feeling of respect and even fear when\r
+the enormously high study door opened and showed the figure of a rather\r
+small old man, with powdered wig, small withered hands, and bushy gray\r
+eyebrows which, when he frowned, sometimes hid the gleam of his shrewd,\r
+youthfully glittering eyes.\r
+\r
+On the morning of the day that the young couple were to arrive, Princess\r
+Mary entered the antechamber as usual at the time appointed for the\r
+morning greeting, crossing herself with trepidation and repeating a\r
+silent prayer. Every morning she came in like that, and every morning\r
+prayed that the daily interview might pass off well.\r
+\r
+An old powdered manservant who was sitting in the antechamber rose\r
+quietly and said in a whisper: "Please walk in."\r
+\r
+Through the door came the regular hum of a lathe. The princess timidly\r
+opened the door which moved noiselessly and easily. She paused at the\r
+entrance. The prince was working at the lathe and after glancing round\r
+continued his work.\r
+\r
+The enormous study was full of things evidently in constant use. The\r
+large table covered with books and plans, the tall glass-fronted\r
+bookcases with keys in the locks, the high desk for writing while\r
+standing up, on which lay an open exercise book, and the lathe with\r
+tools laid ready to hand and shavings scattered around--all indicated\r
+continuous, varied, and orderly activity. The motion of the small foot\r
+shod in a Tartar boot embroidered with silver, and the firm pressure of\r
+the lean sinewy hand, showed that the prince still possessed the\r
+tenacious endurance and vigor of hardy old age. After a few more turns\r
+of the lathe he removed his foot from the pedal, wiped his chisel,\r
+dropped it into a leather pouch attached to the lathe, and, approaching\r
+the table, summoned his daughter. He never gave his children a blessing,\r
+so he simply held out his bristly cheek (as yet unshaven) and, regarding\r
+her tenderly and attentively, said severely:\r
+\r
+"Quite well? All right then, sit down." He took the exercise book\r
+containing lessons in geometry written by himself and drew up a chair\r
+with his foot.\r
+\r
+"For tomorrow!" said he, quickly finding the page and making a scratch\r
+from one paragraph to another with his hard nail.\r
+\r
+The princess bent over the exercise book on the table.\r
+\r
+"Wait a bit, here's a letter for you," said the old man suddenly, taking\r
+a letter addressed in a woman's hand from a bag hanging above the table,\r
+onto which he threw it.\r
+\r
+At the sight of the letter red patches showed themselves on the\r
+princess' face. She took it quickly and bent her head over it.\r
+\r
+"From Heloise?" asked the prince with a cold smile that showed his still\r
+sound, yellowish teeth.\r
+\r
+"Yes, it's from Julie," replied the princess with a timid glance and a\r
+timid smile.\r
+\r
+"I'll let two more letters pass, but the third I'll read," said the\r
+prince sternly; "I'm afraid you write much nonsense. I'll read the\r
+third!"\r
+\r
+"Read this if you like, Father," said the princess, blushing still more\r
+and holding out the letter.\r
+\r
+"The third, I said the third!" cried the prince abruptly, pushing the\r
+letter away, and leaning his elbows on the table he drew toward him the\r
+exercise book containing geometrical figures.\r
+\r
+"Well, madam," he began, stooping over the book close to his daughter\r
+and placing an arm on the back of the chair on which she sat, so that\r
+she felt herself surrounded on all sides by the acrid scent of old age\r
+and tobacco, which she had known so long. "Now, madam, these triangles\r
+are equal; please note that the angle ABC..."\r
+\r
+The princess looked in a scared way at her father's eyes glittering\r
+close to her; the red patches on her face came and went, and it was\r
+plain that she understood nothing and was so frightened that her fear\r
+would prevent her understanding any of her father's further\r
+explanations, however clear they might be. Whether it was the teacher's\r
+fault or the pupil's, this same thing happened every day: the princess'\r
+eyes grew dim, she could not see and could not hear anything, but was\r
+only conscious of her stern father's withered face close to her, of his\r
+breath and the smell of him, and could think only of how to get away\r
+quickly to her own room to make out the problem in peace. The old man\r
+was beside himself: moved the chair on which he was sitting noisily\r
+backward and forward, made efforts to control himself and not become\r
+vehement, but almost always did become vehement, scolded, and sometimes\r
+flung the exercise book away.\r
+\r
+The princess gave a wrong answer.\r
+\r
+"Well now, isn't she a fool!" shouted the prince, pushing the book aside\r
+and turning sharply away; but rising immediately, he paced up and down,\r
+lightly touched his daughter's hair and sat down again.\r
+\r
+He drew up his chair, and continued to explain.\r
+\r
+"This won't do, Princess; it won't do," said he, when Princess Mary,\r
+having taken and closed the exercise book with the next day's lesson,\r
+was about to leave: "Mathematics are most important, madam! I don't want\r
+to have you like our silly ladies. Get used to it and you'll like it,"\r
+and he patted her cheek. "It will drive all the nonsense out of your\r
+head."\r
+\r
+She turned to go, but he stopped her with a gesture and took an uncut\r
+book from the high desk.\r
+\r
+"Here is some sort of Key to the Mysteries that your Heloise has sent\r
+you. Religious! I don't interfere with anyone's belief... I have looked\r
+at it. Take it. Well, now go. Go."\r
+\r
+He patted her on the shoulder and himself closed the door after her.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary went back to her room with the sad, scared expression that\r
+rarely left her and which made her plain, sickly face yet plainer. She\r
+sat down at her writing table, on which stood miniature portraits and\r
+which was littered with books and papers. The princess was as untidy as\r
+her father was tidy. She put down the geometry book and eagerly broke\r
+the seal of her letter. It was from her most intimate friend from\r
+childhood; that same Julie Karagina who had been at the Rostovs' name-\r
+day party.\r
+\r
+Julie wrote in French:\r
+\r
+Dear and precious Friend, How terrible and frightful a thing is\r
+separation! Though I tell myself that half my life and half my happiness\r
+are wrapped up in you, and that in spite of the distance separating us\r
+our hearts are united by indissoluble bonds, my heart rebels against\r
+fate and in spite of the pleasures and distractions around me I cannot\r
+overcome a certain secret sorrow that has been in my heart ever since we\r
+parted. Why are we not together as we were last summer, in your big\r
+study, on the blue sofa, the confidential sofa? Why cannot I now, as\r
+three months ago, draw fresh moral strength from your look, so gentle,\r
+calm, and penetrating, a look I loved so well and seem to see before me\r
+as I write?\r
+\r
+Having read thus far, Princess Mary sighed and glanced into the mirror\r
+which stood on her right. It reflected a weak, ungraceful figure and\r
+thin face. Her eyes, always sad, now looked with particular hopelessness\r
+at her reflection in the glass. "She flatters me," thought the princess,\r
+turning away and continuing to read. But Julie did not flatter her\r
+friend, the princess' eyes--large, deep and luminous (it seemed as if at\r
+times there radiated from them shafts of warm light)--were so beautiful\r
+that very often in spite of the plainness of her face they gave her an\r
+attraction more powerful than that of beauty. But the princess never saw\r
+the beautiful expression of her own eyes--the look they had when she was\r
+not thinking of herself. As with everyone, her face assumed a forced\r
+unnatural expression as soon as she looked in a glass. She went on\r
+reading:\r
+\r
+All Moscow talks of nothing but war. One of my two brothers is already\r
+abroad, the other is with the Guards, who are starting on their march to\r
+the frontier. Our dear Emperor has left Petersburg and it is thought\r
+intends to expose his precious person to the chances of war. God grant\r
+that the Corsican monster who is destroying the peace of Europe may be\r
+overthrown by the angel whom it has pleased the Almighty, in His\r
+goodness, to give us as sovereign! To say nothing of my brothers, this\r
+war has deprived me of one of the associations nearest my heart. I mean\r
+young Nicholas Rostov, who with his enthusiasm could not bear to remain\r
+inactive and has left the university to join the army. I will confess to\r
+you, dear Mary, that in spite of his extreme youth his departure for the\r
+army was a great grief to me. This young man, of whom I spoke to you\r
+last summer, is so noble-minded and full of that real youthfulness which\r
+one seldom finds nowadays among our old men of twenty and, particularly,\r
+he is so frank and has so much heart. He is so pure and poetic that my\r
+relations with him, transient as they were, have been one of the\r
+sweetest comforts to my poor heart, which has already suffered so much.\r
+Someday I will tell you about our parting and all that was said then.\r
+That is still too fresh. Ah, dear friend, you are happy not to know\r
+these poignant joys and sorrows. You are fortunate, for the latter are\r
+generally the stronger! I know very well that Count Nicholas is too\r
+young ever to be more to me than a friend, but this sweet friendship,\r
+this poetic and pure intimacy, were what my heart needed. But enough of\r
+this! The chief news, about which all Moscow gossips, is the death of\r
+old Count Bezukhov, and his inheritance. Fancy! The three princesses\r
+have received very little, Prince Vasili nothing, and it is Monsieur\r
+Pierre who has inherited all the property and has besides been\r
+recognized as legitimate; so that he is now Count Bezukhov and possessor\r
+of the finest fortune in Russia. It is rumored that Prince Vasili played\r
+a very despicable part in this affair and that he returned to Petersburg\r
+quite crestfallen.\r
+\r
+I confess I understand very little about all these matters of wills and\r
+inheritance; but I do know that since this young man, whom we all used\r
+to know as plain Monsieur Pierre, has become Count Bezukhov and the\r
+owner of one of the largest fortunes in Russia, I am much amused to\r
+watch the change in the tone and manners of the mammas burdened by\r
+marriageable daughters, and of the young ladies themselves, toward him,\r
+though, between you and me, he always seemed to me a poor sort of\r
+fellow. As for the past two years people have amused themselves by\r
+finding husbands for me (most of whom I don't even know), the\r
+matchmaking chronicles of Moscow now speak of me as the future Countess\r
+Bezukhova. But you will understand that I have no desire for the post. A\r
+propos of marriages: do you know that a while ago that universal auntie\r
+Anna Mikhaylovna told me, under the seal of strict secrecy, of a plan of\r
+marriage for you. It is neither more nor less than with Prince Vasili's\r
+son Anatole, whom they wish to reform by marrying him to someone rich\r
+and distinguee, and it is on you that his relations' choice has fallen.\r
+I don't know what you will think of it, but I consider it my duty to let\r
+you know of it. He is said to be very handsome and a terrible\r
+scapegrace. That is all I have been able to find out about him.\r
+\r
+But enough of gossip. I am at the end of my second sheet of paper, and\r
+Mamma has sent for me to go and dine at the Apraksins'. Read the\r
+mystical book I am sending you; it has an enormous success here. Though\r
+there are things in it difficult for the feeble human mind to grasp, it\r
+is an admirable book which calms and elevates the soul. Adieu! Give my\r
+respects to monsieur your father and my compliments to Mademoiselle\r
+Bourienne. I embrace you as I love you.\r
+\r
+JULIE\r
+\r
+P.S. Let me have news of your brother and his charming little wife.\r
+\r
+The princess pondered awhile with a thoughtful smile and her luminous\r
+eyes lit up so that her face was entirely transformed. Then she suddenly\r
+rose and with her heavy tread went up to the table. She took a sheet of\r
+paper and her hand moved rapidly over it. This is the reply she wrote,\r
+also in French:\r
+\r
+Dear and precious Friend, Your letter of the 13th has given me great\r
+delight. So you still love me, my romantic Julie? Separation, of which\r
+you say so much that is bad, does not seem to have had its usual effect\r
+on you. You complain of our separation. What then should I say, if I\r
+dared complain, I who am deprived of all who are dear to me? Ah, if we\r
+had not religion to console us life would be very sad. Why do you\r
+suppose that I should look severely on your affection for that young\r
+man? On such matters I am only severe with myself. I understand such\r
+feelings in others, and if never having felt them I cannot approve of\r
+them, neither do I condemn them. Only it seems to me that Christian\r
+love, love of one's neighbor, love of one's enemy, is worthier, sweeter,\r
+and better than the feelings which the beautiful eyes of a young man can\r
+inspire in a romantic and loving young girl like yourself.\r
+\r
+The news of Count Bezukhov's death reached us before your letter and my\r
+father was much affected by it. He says the count was the last\r
+representative but one of the great century, and that it is his own turn\r
+now, but that he will do all he can to let his turn come as late as\r
+possible. God preserve us from that terrible misfortune!\r
+\r
+I cannot agree with you about Pierre, whom I knew as a child. He always\r
+seemed to me to have an excellent heart, and that is the quality I value\r
+most in people. As to his inheritance and the part played by Prince\r
+Vasili, it is very sad for both. Ah, my dear friend, our divine\r
+Saviour's words, that it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of\r
+a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God, are terribly\r
+true. I pity Prince Vasili but am still more sorry for Pierre. So young,\r
+and burdened with such riches--to what temptations he will be exposed!\r
+If I were asked what I desire most on earth, it would be to be poorer\r
+than the poorest beggar. A thousand thanks, dear friend, for the volume\r
+you have sent me and which has such success in Moscow. Yet since you\r
+tell me that among some good things it contains others which our weak\r
+human understanding cannot grasp, it seems to me rather useless to spend\r
+time in reading what is unintelligible and can therefore bear no fruit.\r
+I never could understand the fondness some people have for confusing\r
+their minds by dwelling on mystical books that merely awaken their\r
+doubts and excite their imagination, giving them a bent for exaggeration\r
+quite contrary to Christian simplicity. Let us rather read the Epistles\r
+and Gospels. Let us not seek to penetrate what mysteries they contain;\r
+for how can we, miserable sinners that we are, know the terrible and\r
+holy secrets of Providence while we remain in this flesh which forms an\r
+impenetrable veil between us and the Eternal? Let us rather confine\r
+ourselves to studying those sublime rules which our divine Saviour has\r
+left for our guidance here below. Let us try to conform to them and\r
+follow them, and let us be persuaded that the less we let our feeble\r
+human minds roam, the better we shall please God, who rejects all\r
+knowledge that does not come from Him; and the less we seek to fathom\r
+what He has been pleased to conceal from us, the sooner will He\r
+vouchsafe its revelation to us through His divine Spirit.\r
+\r
+My father has not spoken to me of a suitor, but has only told me that he\r
+has received a letter and is expecting a visit from Prince Vasili. In\r
+regard to this project of marriage for me, I will tell you, dear sweet\r
+friend, that I look on marriage as a divine institution to which we must\r
+conform. However painful it may be to me, should the Almighty lay the\r
+duties of wife and mother upon me I shall try to perform them as\r
+faithfully as I can, without disquieting myself by examining my feelings\r
+toward him whom He may give me for husband.\r
+\r
+I have had a letter from my brother, who announces his speedy arrival at\r
+Bald Hills with his wife. This pleasure will be but a brief one,\r
+however, for he will leave us again to take part in this unhappy war\r
+into which we have been drawn, God knows how or why. Not only where you\r
+are--at the heart of affairs and of the world--is the talk all of war,\r
+even here amid fieldwork and the calm of nature--which townsfolk\r
+consider characteristic of the country--rumors of war are heard and\r
+painfully felt. My father talks of nothing but marches and\r
+countermarches, things of which I understand nothing; and the day before\r
+yesterday during my daily walk through the village I witnessed a\r
+heartrending scene.... It was a convoy of conscripts enrolled from our\r
+people and starting to join the army. You should have seen the state of\r
+the mothers, wives, and children of the men who were going and should\r
+have heard the sobs. It seems as though mankind has forgotten the laws\r
+of its divine Saviour, Who preached love and forgiveness of injuries--\r
+and that men attribute the greatest merit to skill in killing one\r
+another.\r
+\r
+Adieu, dear and kind friend; may our divine Saviour and His most Holy\r
+Mother keep you in their holy and all-powerful care!\r
+\r
+MARY\r
+\r
+"Ah, you are sending off a letter, Princess? I have already dispatched\r
+mine. I have written to my poor mother," said the smiling Mademoiselle\r
+Bourienne rapidly, in her pleasant mellow tones and with guttural r's.\r
+She brought into Princess Mary's strenuous, mournful, and gloomy world a\r
+quite different atmosphere, careless, lighthearted, and self-satisfied.\r
+\r
+"Princess, I must warn you," she added, lowering her voice and evidently\r
+listening to herself with pleasure, and speaking with exaggerated\r
+grasseyement, "the prince has been scolding Michael Ivanovich. He is in\r
+a very bad humor, very morose. Be prepared."\r
+\r
+"Ah, dear friend," replied Princess Mary, "I have asked you never to\r
+warn me of the humor my father is in. I do not allow myself to judge him\r
+and would not have others do so."\r
+\r
+The princess glanced at her watch and, seeing that she was five minutes\r
+late in starting her practice on the clavichord, went into the sitting\r
+room with a look of alarm. Between twelve and two o'clock, as the day\r
+was mapped out, the prince rested and the princess played the\r
+clavichord.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXVI\r
+\r
+The gray-haired valet was sitting drowsily listening to the snoring of\r
+the prince, who was in his large study. From the far side of the house\r
+through the closed doors came the sound of difficult passages--twenty\r
+times repeated--of a sonata by Dussek.\r
+\r
+Just then a closed carriage and another with a hood drove up to the\r
+porch. Prince Andrew got out of the carriage, helped his little wife to\r
+alight, and let her pass into the house before him. Old Tikhon, wearing\r
+a wig, put his head out of the door of the antechamber, reported in a\r
+whisper that the prince was sleeping, and hastily closed the door.\r
+Tikhon knew that neither the son's arrival nor any other unusual event\r
+must be allowed to disturb the appointed order of the day. Prince Andrew\r
+apparently knew this as well as Tikhon; he looked at his watch as if to\r
+ascertain whether his father's habits had changed since he was at home\r
+last, and, having assured himself that they had not, he turned to his\r
+wife.\r
+\r
+"He will get up in twenty minutes. Let us go across to Mary's room," he\r
+said.\r
+\r
+The little princess had grown stouter during this time, but her eyes and\r
+her short, downy, smiling lip lifted when she began to speak just as\r
+merrily and prettily as ever.\r
+\r
+"Why, this is a palace!" she said to her husband, looking around with\r
+the expression with which people compliment their host at a ball. "Let's\r
+come, quick, quick!" And with a glance round, she smiled at Tikhon, at\r
+her husband, and at the footman who accompanied them.\r
+\r
+"Is that Mary practicing? Let's go quietly and take her by surprise."\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew followed her with a courteous but sad expression.\r
+\r
+"You've grown older, Tikhon," he said in passing to the old man, who\r
+kissed his hand.\r
+\r
+Before they reached the room from which the sounds of the clavichord\r
+came, the pretty, fair haired Frenchwoman, Mademoiselle Bourienne,\r
+rushed out apparently beside herself with delight.\r
+\r
+"Ah! what joy for the princess!" exclaimed she: "At last! I must let her\r
+know."\r
+\r
+"No, no, please not... You are Mademoiselle Bourienne," said the little\r
+princess, kissing her. "I know you already through my sister-in-law's\r
+friendship for you. She was not expecting us?"\r
+\r
+They went up to the door of the sitting room from which came the sound\r
+of the oft-repeated passage of the sonata. Prince Andrew stopped and\r
+made a grimace, as if expecting something unpleasant.\r
+\r
+The little princess entered the room. The passage broke off in the\r
+middle, a cry was heard, then Princess Mary's heavy tread and the sound\r
+of kissing. When Prince Andrew went in the two princesses, who had only\r
+met once before for a short time at his wedding, were in each other's\r
+arms warmly pressing their lips to whatever place they happened to\r
+touch. Mademoiselle Bourienne stood near them pressing her hand to her\r
+heart, with a beatific smile and obviously equally ready to cry or to\r
+laugh. Prince Andrew shrugged his shoulders and frowned, as lovers of\r
+music do when they hear a false note. The two women let go of one\r
+another, and then, as if afraid of being too late, seized each other's\r
+hands, kissing them and pulling them away, and again began kissing each\r
+other on the face, and then to Prince Andrew's surprise both began to\r
+cry and kissed again. Mademoiselle Bourienne also began to cry. Prince\r
+Andrew evidently felt ill at ease, but to the two women it seemed quite\r
+natural that they should cry, and apparently it never entered their\r
+heads that it could have been otherwise at this meeting.\r
+\r
+"Ah! my dear!... Ah! Mary!" they suddenly exclaimed, and then laughed.\r
+"I dreamed last night..."--"You were not expecting us?..." "Ah! Mary,\r
+you have got thinner?..." "And you have grown stouter!..."\r
+\r
+"I knew the princess at once," put in Mademoiselle Bourienne.\r
+\r
+"And I had no idea!..." exclaimed Princess Mary. "Ah, Andrew, I did not\r
+see you."\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew and his sister, hand in hand, kissed one another, and he\r
+told her she was still the same crybaby as ever. Princess Mary had\r
+turned toward her brother, and through her tears the loving, warm,\r
+gentle look of her large luminous eyes, very beautiful at that moment,\r
+rested on Prince Andrew's face.\r
+\r
+The little princess talked incessantly, her short, downy upper lip\r
+continually and rapidly touching her rosy nether lip when necessary and\r
+drawing up again next moment when her face broke into a smile of\r
+glittering teeth and sparkling eyes. She told of an accident they had\r
+had on the Spasski Hill which might have been serious for her in her\r
+condition, and immediately after that informed them that she had left\r
+all her clothes in Petersburg and that heaven knew what she would have\r
+to dress in here; and that Andrew had quite changed, and that Kitty\r
+Odyntsova had married an old man, and that there was a suitor for Mary,\r
+a real one, but that they would talk of that later. Princess Mary was\r
+still looking silently at her brother and her beautiful eyes were full\r
+of love and sadness. It was plain that she was following a train of\r
+thought independent of her sister-in-law's words. In the midst of a\r
+description of the last Petersburg fete she addressed her brother:\r
+\r
+"So you are really going to the war, Andrew?" she said sighing.\r
+\r
+Lise sighed too.\r
+\r
+"Yes, and even tomorrow," replied her brother.\r
+\r
+"He is leaving me here, God knows why, when he might have had\r
+promotion..."\r
+\r
+Princess Mary did not listen to the end, but continuing her train of\r
+thought turned to her sister-in-law with a tender glance at her figure.\r
+\r
+"Is it certain?" she said.\r
+\r
+The face of the little princess changed. She sighed and said: "Yes,\r
+quite certain. Ah! it is very dreadful..."\r
+\r
+Her lip descended. She brought her face close to her sister-in-law's and\r
+unexpectedly again began to cry.\r
+\r
+"She needs rest," said Prince Andrew with a frown. "Don't you, Lise?\r
+Take her to your room and I'll go to Father. How is he? Just the same?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, just the same. Though I don't know what your opinion will be,"\r
+answered the princess joyfully.\r
+\r
+"And are the hours the same? And the walks in the avenues? And the\r
+lathe?" asked Prince Andrew with a scarcely perceptible smile which\r
+showed that, in spite of all his love and respect for his father, he was\r
+aware of his weaknesses.\r
+\r
+"The hours are the same, and the lathe, and also the mathematics and my\r
+geometry lessons," said Princess Mary gleefully, as if her lessons in\r
+geometry were among the greatest delights of her life.\r
+\r
+When the twenty minutes had elapsed and the time had come for the old\r
+prince to get up, Tikhon came to call the young prince to his father.\r
+The old man made a departure from his usual routine in honor of his\r
+son's arrival: he gave orders to admit him to his apartments while he\r
+dressed for dinner. The old prince always dressed in old-fashioned\r
+style, wearing an antique coat and powdered hair; and when Prince Andrew\r
+entered his father's dressing room (not with the contemptuous look and\r
+manner he wore in drawing rooms, but with the animated face with which\r
+he talked to Pierre), the old man was sitting on a large leather-covered\r
+chair, wrapped in a powdering mantle, entrusting his head to Tikhon.\r
+\r
+"Ah! here's the warrior! Wants to vanquish Buonaparte?" said the old\r
+man, shaking his powdered head as much as the tail, which Tikhon was\r
+holding fast to plait, would allow.\r
+\r
+"You at least must tackle him properly, or else if he goes on like this\r
+he'll soon have us, too, for his subjects! How are you?" And he held out\r
+his cheek.\r
+\r
+The old man was in a good temper after his nap before dinner. (He used\r
+to say that a nap "after dinner was silver--before dinner, golden.") He\r
+cast happy, sidelong glances at his son from under his thick, bushy\r
+eyebrows. Prince Andrew went up and kissed his father on the spot\r
+indicated to him. He made no reply on his father's favorite topic--\r
+making fun of the military men of the day, and more particularly of\r
+Bonaparte.\r
+\r
+"Yes, Father, I have come to you and brought my wife who is pregnant,"\r
+said Prince Andrew, following every movement of his father's face with\r
+an eager and respectful look. "How is your health?"\r
+\r
+"Only fools and rakes fall ill, my boy. You know me: I am busy from\r
+morning till night and abstemious, so of course I am well."\r
+\r
+"Thank God," said his son smiling.\r
+\r
+"God has nothing to do with it! Well, go on," he continued, returning to\r
+his hobby; "tell me how the Germans have taught you to fight Bonaparte\r
+by this new science you call 'strategy.'"\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew smiled.\r
+\r
+"Give me time to collect my wits, Father," said he, with a smile that\r
+showed that his father's foibles did not prevent his son from loving and\r
+honoring him. "Why, I have not yet had time to settle down!"\r
+\r
+"Nonsense, nonsense!" cried the old man, shaking his pigtail to see\r
+whether it was firmly plaited, and grasping his by the hand. "The house\r
+for your wife is ready. Princess Mary will take her there and show her\r
+over, and they'll talk nineteen to the dozen. That's their woman's way!\r
+I am glad to have her. Sit down and talk. About Mikhelson's army I\r
+understand--Tolstoy's too... a simultaneous expedition.... But what's\r
+the southern army to do? Prussia is neutral... I know that. What about\r
+Austria?" said he, rising from his chair and pacing up and down the room\r
+followed by Tikhon, who ran after him, handing him different articles of\r
+clothing. "What of Sweden? How will they cross Pomerania?"\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew, seeing that his father insisted, began--at first\r
+reluctantly, but gradually with more and more animation, and from habit\r
+changing unconsciously from Russian to French as he went on--to explain\r
+the plan of operation for the coming campaign. He explained how an army,\r
+ninety thousand strong, was to threaten Prussia so as to bring her out\r
+of her neutrality and draw her into the war; how part of that army was\r
+to join some Swedish forces at Stralsund; how two hundred and twenty\r
+thousand Austrians, with a hundred thousand Russians, were to operate in\r
+Italy and on the Rhine; how fifty thousand Russians and as many English\r
+were to land at Naples, and how a total force of five hundred thousand\r
+men was to attack the French from different sides. The old prince did\r
+not evince the least interest during this explanation, but as if he were\r
+not listening to it continued to dress while walking about, and three\r
+times unexpectedly interrupted. Once he stopped it by shouting: "The\r
+white one, the white one!"\r
+\r
+This meant that Tikhon was not handing him the waistcoat he wanted.\r
+Another time he interrupted, saying:\r
+\r
+"And will she soon be confined?" and shaking his head reproachfully\r
+said: "That's bad! Go on, go on."\r
+\r
+The third interruption came when Prince Andrew was finishing his\r
+description. The old man began to sing, in the cracked voice of old age:\r
+"Malbrook s'en va-t-en guerre. Dieu sait quand reviendra." *\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Marlborough is going to the wars; God knows when he'll return."\r
+\r
+His son only smiled.\r
+\r
+"I don't say it's a plan I approve of," said the son; "I am only telling\r
+you what it is. Napoleon has also formed his plan by now, not worse than\r
+this one."\r
+\r
+"Well, you've told me nothing new," and the old man repeated,\r
+meditatively and rapidly:\r
+\r
+"Dieu sait quand reviendra. Go to the dining room."\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXVII\r
+\r
+At the appointed hour the prince, powdered and shaven, entered the\r
+dining room where his daughter-in-law, Princess Mary, and Mademoiselle\r
+Bourienne were already awaiting him together with his architect, who by\r
+a strange caprice of his employer's was admitted to table though the\r
+position of that insignificant individual was such as could certainly\r
+not have caused him to expect that honor. The prince, who generally kept\r
+very strictly to social distinctions and rarely admitted even important\r
+government officials to his table, had unexpectedly selected Michael\r
+Ivanovich (who always went into a corner to blow his nose on his checked\r
+handkerchief) to illustrate the theory that all men are equals, and had\r
+more than once impressed on his daughter that Michael Ivanovich was "not\r
+a whit worse than you or I." At dinner the prince usually spoke to the\r
+taciturn Michael Ivanovich more often than to anyone else.\r
+\r
+In the dining room, which like all the rooms in the house was\r
+exceedingly lofty, the members of the household and the footmen--one\r
+behind each chair--stood waiting for the prince to enter. The head\r
+butler, napkin on arm, was scanning the setting of the table, making\r
+signs to the footmen, and anxiously glancing from the clock to the door\r
+by which the prince was to enter. Prince Andrew was looking at a large\r
+gilt frame, new to him, containing the genealogical tree of the Princes\r
+Bolkonski, opposite which hung another such frame with a badly painted\r
+portrait (evidently by the hand of the artist belonging to the estate)\r
+of a ruling prince, in a crown--an alleged descendant of Rurik and\r
+ancestor of the Bolkonskis. Prince Andrew, looking again at that\r
+genealogical tree, shook his head, laughing as a man laughs who looks at\r
+a portrait so characteristic of the original as to be amusing.\r
+\r
+"How thoroughly like him that is!" he said to Princess Mary, who had\r
+come up to him.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary looked at her brother in surprise. She did not understand\r
+what he was laughing at. Everything her father did inspired her with\r
+reverence and was beyond question.\r
+\r
+"Everyone has his Achilles' heel," continued Prince Andrew. "Fancy, with\r
+his powerful mind, indulging in such nonsense!"\r
+\r
+Princess Mary could not understand the boldness of her brother's\r
+criticism and was about to reply, when the expected footsteps were heard\r
+coming from the study. The prince walked in quickly and jauntily as was\r
+his wont, as if intentionally contrasting the briskness of his manners\r
+with the strict formality of his house. At that moment the great clock\r
+struck two and another with a shrill tone joined in from the drawing\r
+room. The prince stood still; his lively glittering eyes from under\r
+their thick, bushy eyebrows sternly scanned all present and rested on\r
+the little princess. She felt, as courtiers do when the Tsar enters, the\r
+sensation of fear and respect which the old man inspired in all around\r
+him. He stroked her hair and then patted her awkwardly on the back of\r
+her neck.\r
+\r
+"I'm glad, glad, to see you," he said, looking attentively into her\r
+eyes, and then quickly went to his place and sat down. "Sit down, sit\r
+down! Sit down, Michael Ianovich!"\r
+\r
+He indicated a place beside him to his daughter-in-law. A footman moved\r
+the chair for her.\r
+\r
+"Ho, ho!" said the old man, casting his eyes on her rounded figure.\r
+"You've been in a hurry. That's bad!"\r
+\r
+He laughed in his usual dry, cold, unpleasant way, with his lips only\r
+and not with his eyes.\r
+\r
+"You must walk, walk as much as possible, as much as possible," he said.\r
+\r
+The little princess did not, or did not wish to, hear his words. She was\r
+silent and seemed confused. The prince asked her about her father, and\r
+she began to smile and talk. He asked about mutual acquaintances, and\r
+she became still more animated and chattered away giving him greetings\r
+from various people and retelling the town gossip.\r
+\r
+"Countess Apraksina, poor thing, has lost her husband and she has cried\r
+her eyes out," she said, growing more and more lively.\r
+\r
+As she became animated the prince looked at her more and more sternly,\r
+and suddenly, as if he had studied her sufficiently and had formed a\r
+definite idea of her, he turned away and addressed Michael Ivanovich.\r
+\r
+"Well, Michael Ivanovich, our Bonaparte will be having a bad time of it.\r
+Prince Andrew" (he always spoke thus of his son) "has been telling me\r
+what forces are being collected against him! While you and I never\r
+thought much of him."\r
+\r
+Michael Ivanovich did not at all know when "you and I" had said such\r
+things about Bonaparte, but understanding that he was wanted as a peg on\r
+which to hang the prince's favorite topic, he looked inquiringly at the\r
+young prince, wondering what would follow.\r
+\r
+"He is a great tactician!" said the prince to his son, pointing to the\r
+architect.\r
+\r
+And the conversation again turned on the war, on Bonaparte, and the\r
+generals and statesmen of the day. The old prince seemed convinced not\r
+only that all the men of the day were mere babies who did not know the A\r
+B C of war or of politics, and that Bonaparte was an insignificant\r
+little Frenchy, successful only because there were no longer any\r
+Potemkins or Suvorovs left to oppose him; but he was also convinced that\r
+there were no political difficulties in Europe and no real war, but only\r
+a sort of puppet show at which the men of the day were playing,\r
+pretending to do something real. Prince Andrew gaily bore with his\r
+father's ridicule of the new men, and drew him on and listened to him\r
+with evident pleasure.\r
+\r
+"The past always seems good," said he, "but did not Suvorov himself fall\r
+into a trap Moreau set him, and from which he did not know how to\r
+escape?"\r
+\r
+"Who told you that? Who?" cried the prince. "Suvorov!" And he jerked\r
+away his plate, which Tikhon briskly caught. "Suvorov!... Consider,\r
+Prince Andrew. Two... Frederick and Suvorov; Moreau!... Moreau would\r
+have been a prisoner if Suvorov had had a free hand; but he had the\r
+Hofs-kriegs-wurst-schnapps-Rath on his hands. It would have puzzled the\r
+devil himself! When you get there you'll find out what those Hofs-\r
+kriegs-wurst-Raths are! Suvorov couldn't manage them so what chance has\r
+Michael Kutuzov? No, my dear boy," he continued, "you and your generals\r
+won't get on against Buonaparte; you'll have to call in the French, so\r
+that birds of a feather may fight together. The German, Pahlen, has been\r
+sent to New York in America, to fetch the Frenchman, Moreau," he said,\r
+alluding to the invitation made that year to Moreau to enter the Russian\r
+service.... "Wonderful!... Were the Potemkins, Suvorovs, and Orlovs\r
+Germans? No, lad, either you fellows have all lost your wits, or I have\r
+outlived mine. May God help you, but we'll see what will happen.\r
+Buonaparte has become a great commander among them! Hm!..."\r
+\r
+"I don't at all say that all the plans are good," said Prince Andrew, "I\r
+am only surprised at your opinion of Bonaparte. You may laugh as much as\r
+you like, but all the same Bonaparte is a great general!"\r
+\r
+"Michael Ivanovich!" cried the old prince to the architect who, busy\r
+with his roast meat, hoped he had been forgotten: "Didn't I tell you\r
+Buonaparte was a great tactician? Here, he says the same thing."\r
+\r
+"To be sure, your excellency," replied the architect.\r
+\r
+The prince again laughed his frigid laugh.\r
+\r
+"Buonaparte was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He has got\r
+splendid soldiers. Besides he began by attacking Germans. And only\r
+idlers have failed to beat the Germans. Since the world began everybody\r
+has beaten the Germans. They beat no one--except one another. He made\r
+his reputation fighting them."\r
+\r
+And the prince began explaining all the blunders which, according to\r
+him, Bonaparte had made in his campaigns and even in politics. His son\r
+made no rejoinder, but it was evident that whatever arguments were\r
+presented he was as little able as his father to change his opinion. He\r
+listened, refraining from a reply, and involuntarily wondered how this\r
+old man, living alone in the country for so many years, could know and\r
+discuss so minutely and acutely all the recent European military and\r
+political events.\r
+\r
+"You think I'm an old man and don't understand the present state of\r
+affairs?" concluded his father. "But it troubles me. I don't sleep at\r
+night. Come now, where has this great commander of yours shown his\r
+skill?" he concluded.\r
+\r
+"That would take too long to tell," answered the son.\r
+\r
+"Well, then go to your Buonaparte! Mademoiselle Bourienne, here's\r
+another admirer of that powder-monkey emperor of yours," he exclaimed in\r
+excellent French.\r
+\r
+"You know, Prince, I am not a Bonapartist!"\r
+\r
+"Dieu sait quand reviendra..." hummed the prince out of tune and, with a\r
+laugh still more so, he quitted the table.\r
+\r
+The little princess during the whole discussion and the rest of the\r
+dinner sat silent, glancing with a frightened look now at her father-in-\r
+law and now at Princess Mary. When they left the table she took her\r
+sister-in-law's arm and drew her into another room.\r
+\r
+"What a clever man your father is," said she; "perhaps that is why I am\r
+afraid of him."\r
+\r
+"Oh, he is so kind!" answered Princess Mary.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXVIII\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew was to leave next evening. The old prince, not altering\r
+his routine, retired as usual after dinner. The little princess was in\r
+her sister-in-law's room. Prince Andrew in a traveling coat without\r
+epaulettes had been packing with his valet in the rooms assigned to him.\r
+After inspecting the carriage himself and seeing the trunks put in, he\r
+ordered the horses to be harnessed. Only those things he always kept\r
+with him remained in his room; a small box, a large canteen fitted with\r
+silver plate, two Turkish pistols and a saber--a present from his father\r
+who had brought it from the siege of Ochakov. All these traveling\r
+effects of Prince Andrew's were in very good order: new, clean, and in\r
+cloth covers carefully tied with tapes.\r
+\r
+When starting on a journey or changing their mode of life, men capable\r
+of reflection are generally in a serious frame of mind. At such moments\r
+one reviews the past and plans for the future. Prince Andrew's face\r
+looked very thoughtful and tender. With his hands behind him he paced\r
+briskly from corner to corner of the room, looking straight before him\r
+and thoughtfully shaking his head. Did he fear going to the war, or was\r
+he sad at leaving his wife?--perhaps both, but evidently he did not wish\r
+to be seen in that mood, for hearing footsteps in the passage he\r
+hurriedly unclasped his hands, stopped at a table as if tying the cover\r
+of the small box, and assumed his usual tranquil and impenetrable\r
+expression. It was the heavy tread of Princess Mary that he heard.\r
+\r
+"I hear you have given orders to harness," she cried, panting (she had\r
+apparently been running), "and I did so wish to have another talk with\r
+you alone! God knows how long we may again be parted. You are not angry\r
+with me for coming? You have changed so, Andrusha," she added, as if to\r
+explain such a question.\r
+\r
+She smiled as she uttered his pet name, "Andrusha." It was obviously\r
+strange to her to think that this stern handsome man should be Andrusha-\r
+-the slender mischievous boy who had been her playfellow in childhood.\r
+\r
+"And where is Lise?" he asked, answering her question only by a smile.\r
+\r
+"She was so tired that she has fallen asleep on the sofa in my room. Oh,\r
+Andrew! What a treasure of a wife you have," said she, sitting down on\r
+the sofa, facing her brother. "She is quite a child: such a dear, merry\r
+child. I have grown so fond of her."\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew was silent, but the princess noticed the ironical and\r
+contemptuous look that showed itself on his face.\r
+\r
+"One must be indulgent to little weaknesses; who is free from them,\r
+Andrew? Don't forget that she has grown up and been educated in society,\r
+and so her position now is not a rosy one. We should enter into\r
+everyone's situation. Tout comprendre, c'est tout pardonner. * Think\r
+what it must be for her, poor thing, after what she has been used to, to\r
+be parted from her husband and be left alone in the country, in her\r
+condition! It's very hard."\r
+\r
+\r
+* To understand all is to forgive all.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew smiled as he looked at his sister, as we smile at those we\r
+think we thoroughly understand.\r
+\r
+"You live in the country and don't think the life terrible," he replied.\r
+\r
+"I... that's different. Why speak of me? I don't want any other life,\r
+and can't, for I know no other. But think, Andrew: for a young society\r
+woman to be buried in the country during the best years of her life, all\r
+alone--for Papa is always busy, and I... well, you know what poor\r
+resources I have for entertaining a woman used to the best society.\r
+There is only Mademoiselle Bourienne...."\r
+\r
+"I don't like your Mademoiselle Bourienne at all," said Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+"No? She is very nice and kind and, above all, she's much to be pitied.\r
+She has no one, no one. To tell the truth, I don't need her, and she's\r
+even in my way. You know I always was a savage, and now am even more so.\r
+I like being alone.... Father likes her very much. She and Michael\r
+Ivanovich are the two people to whom he is always gentle and kind,\r
+because he has been a benefactor to them both. As Sterne says: 'We don't\r
+love people so much for the good they have done us, as for the good we\r
+have done them.' Father took her when she was homeless after losing her\r
+own father. She is very good-natured, and my father likes her way of\r
+reading. She reads to him in the evenings and reads splendidly."\r
+\r
+"To be quite frank, Mary, I expect Father's character sometimes makes\r
+things trying for you, doesn't it?" Prince Andrew asked suddenly.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary was first surprised and then aghast at this question.\r
+\r
+"For me? For me?... Trying for me!..." said she.\r
+\r
+"He always was rather harsh; and now I should think he's getting very\r
+trying," said Prince Andrew, apparently speaking lightly of their father\r
+in order to puzzle or test his sister.\r
+\r
+"You are good in every way, Andrew, but you have a kind of intellectual\r
+pride," said the princess, following the train of her own thoughts\r
+rather than the trend of the conversation--"and that's a great sin. How\r
+can one judge Father? But even if one might, what feeling except\r
+veneration could such a man as my father evoke? And I am so contented\r
+and happy with him. I only wish you were all as happy as I am."\r
+\r
+Her brother shook his head incredulously.\r
+\r
+"The only thing that is hard for me... I will tell you the truth,\r
+Andrew... is Father's way of treating religious subjects. I don't\r
+understand how a man of his immense intellect can fail to see what is as\r
+clear as day, and can go so far astray. That is the only thing that\r
+makes me unhappy. But even in this I can see lately a shade of\r
+improvement. His satire has been less bitter of late, and there was a\r
+monk he received and had a long talk with."\r
+\r
+"Ah! my dear, I am afraid you and your monk are wasting your powder,"\r
+said Prince Andrew banteringly yet tenderly.\r
+\r
+"Ah! mon ami, I only pray, and hope that God will hear me. Andrew..."\r
+she said timidly after a moment's silence, "I have a great favor to ask\r
+of you."\r
+\r
+"What is it, dear?"\r
+\r
+"No--promise that you will not refuse! It will give you no trouble and\r
+is nothing unworthy of you, but it will comfort me. Promise,\r
+Andrusha!..." said she, putting her hand in her reticule but not yet\r
+taking out what she was holding inside it, as if what she held were the\r
+subject of her request and must not be shown before the request was\r
+granted.\r
+\r
+She looked timidly at her brother.\r
+\r
+"Even if it were a great deal of trouble..." answered Prince Andrew, as\r
+if guessing what it was about.\r
+\r
+"Think what you please! I know you are just like Father. Think as you\r
+please, but do this for my sake! Please do! Father's father, our\r
+grandfather, wore it in all his wars." (She still did not take out what\r
+she was holding in her reticule.) "So you promise?"\r
+\r
+"Of course. What is it?"\r
+\r
+"Andrew, I bless you with this icon and you must promise me you will\r
+never take it off. Do you promise?"\r
+\r
+"If it does not weigh a hundredweight and won't break my neck... To\r
+please you..." said Prince Andrew. But immediately, noticing the pained\r
+expression his joke had brought to his sister's face, he repented and\r
+added: "I am glad; really, dear, I am very glad."\r
+\r
+"Against your will He will save and have mercy on you and bring you to\r
+Himself, for in Him alone is truth and peace," said she in a voice\r
+trembling with emotion, solemnly holding up in both hands before her\r
+brother a small, oval, antique, dark-faced icon of the Saviour in a gold\r
+setting, on a finely wrought silver chain.\r
+\r
+She crossed herself, kissed the icon, and handed it to Andrew.\r
+\r
+"Please, Andrew, for my sake!..."\r
+\r
+Rays of gentle light shone from her large, timid eyes. Those eyes lit up\r
+the whole of her thin, sickly face and made it beautiful. Her brother\r
+would have taken the icon, but she stopped him. Andrew understood,\r
+crossed himself and kissed the icon. There was a look of tenderness, for\r
+he was touched, but also a gleam of irony on his face.\r
+\r
+"Thank you, my dear." She kissed him on the forehead and sat down again\r
+on the sofa. They were silent for a while.\r
+\r
+"As I was saying to you, Andrew, be kind and generous as you always used\r
+to be. Don't judge Lise harshly," she began. "She is so sweet, so good-\r
+natured, and her position now is a very hard one."\r
+\r
+"I do not think I have complained of my wife to you, Masha, or blamed\r
+her. Why do you say all this to me?"\r
+\r
+Red patches appeared on Princess Mary's face and she was silent as if\r
+she felt guilty.\r
+\r
+"I have said nothing to you, but you have already been talked to. And I\r
+am sorry for that," he went on.\r
+\r
+The patches grew deeper on her forehead, neck, and cheeks. She tried to\r
+say something but could not. Her brother had guessed right: the little\r
+princess had been crying after dinner and had spoken of her forebodings\r
+about her confinement, and how she dreaded it, and had complained of her\r
+fate, her father-in-law, and her husband. After crying she had fallen\r
+asleep. Prince Andrew felt sorry for his sister.\r
+\r
+"Know this, Masha: I can't reproach, have not reproached, and never\r
+shall reproach my wife with anything, and I cannot reproach myself with\r
+anything in regard to her; and that always will be so in whatever\r
+circumstances I may be placed. But if you want to know the truth... if\r
+you want to know whether I am happy? No! Is she happy? No! But why this\r
+is so I don't know..."\r
+\r
+As he said this he rose, went to his sister, and, stooping, kissed her\r
+forehead. His fine eyes lit up with a thoughtful, kindly, and\r
+unaccustomed brightness, but he was looking not at his sister but over\r
+her head toward the darkness of the open doorway.\r
+\r
+"Let us go to her, I must say good-by. Or--go and wake and I'll come in\r
+a moment. Petrushka!" he called to his valet: "Come here, take these\r
+away. Put this on the seat and this to the right."\r
+\r
+Princess Mary rose and moved to the door, then stopped and said:\r
+"Andrew, if you had faith you would have turned to God and asked Him to\r
+give you the love you do not feel, and your prayer would have been\r
+answered."\r
+\r
+"Well, may be!" said Prince Andrew. "Go, Masha; I'll come immediately."\r
+\r
+On the way to his sister's room, in the passage which connected one wing\r
+with the other, Prince Andrew met Mademoiselle Bourienne smiling\r
+sweetly. It was the third time that day that, with an ecstatic and\r
+artless smile, she had met him in secluded passages.\r
+\r
+"Oh! I thought you were in your room," she said, for some reason\r
+blushing and dropping her eyes.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew looked sternly at her and an expression of anger suddenly\r
+came over his face. He said nothing to her but looked at her forehead\r
+and hair, without looking at her eyes, with such contempt that the\r
+Frenchwoman blushed and went away without a word. When he reached his\r
+sister's room his wife was already awake and her merry voice, hurrying\r
+one word after another, came through the open door. She was speaking as\r
+usual in French, and as if after long self-restraint she wished to make\r
+up for lost time.\r
+\r
+"No, but imagine the old Countess Zubova, with false curls and her mouth\r
+full of false teeth, as if she were trying to cheat old age.... Ha, ha,\r
+ha! Mary!"\r
+\r
+This very sentence about Countess Zubova and this same laugh Prince\r
+Andrew had already heard from his wife in the presence of others some\r
+five times. He entered the room softly. The little princess, plump and\r
+rosy, was sitting in an easy chair with her work in her hands, talking\r
+incessantly, repeating Petersburg reminiscences and even phrases. Prince\r
+Andrew came up, stroked her hair, and asked if she felt rested after\r
+their journey. She answered him and continued her chatter.\r
+\r
+The coach with six horses was waiting at the porch. It was an autumn\r
+night, so dark that the coachman could not see the carriage pole.\r
+Servants with lanterns were bustling about in the porch. The immense\r
+house was brilliant with lights shining through its lofty windows. The\r
+domestic serfs were crowding in the hall, waiting to bid good-by to the\r
+young prince. The members of the household were all gathered in the\r
+reception hall: Michael Ivanovich, Mademoiselle Bourienne, Princess\r
+Mary, and the little princess. Prince Andrew had been called to his\r
+father's study as the latter wished to say good-by to him alone. All\r
+were waiting for them to come out.\r
+\r
+When Prince Andrew entered the study the old man in his old-age\r
+spectacles and white dressing gown, in which he received no one but his\r
+son, sat at the table writing. He glanced round.\r
+\r
+"Going?" And he went on writing.\r
+\r
+"I've come to say good-by."\r
+\r
+"Kiss me here," and he touched his cheek: "Thanks, thanks!"\r
+\r
+"What do you thank me for?"\r
+\r
+"For not dilly-dallying and not hanging to a woman's apron strings. The\r
+Service before everything. Thanks, thanks!" And he went on writing, so\r
+that his quill spluttered and squeaked. "If you have anything to say,\r
+say it. These two things can be done together," he added.\r
+\r
+"About my wife... I am ashamed as it is to leave her on your hands..."\r
+\r
+"Why talk nonsense? Say what you want."\r
+\r
+"When her confinement is due, send to Moscow for an accoucheur.... Let\r
+him be here...."\r
+\r
+The old prince stopped writing and, as if not understanding, fixed his\r
+stern eyes on his son.\r
+\r
+"I know that no one can help if nature does not do her work," said\r
+Prince Andrew, evidently confused. "I know that out of a million cases\r
+only one goes wrong, but it is her fancy and mine. They have been\r
+telling her things. She has had a dream and is frightened."\r
+\r
+"Hm... Hm..." muttered the old prince to himself, finishing what he was\r
+writing. "I'll do it."\r
+\r
+He signed with a flourish and suddenly turning to his son began to\r
+laugh.\r
+\r
+"It's a bad business, eh?"\r
+\r
+"What is bad, Father?"\r
+\r
+"The wife!" said the old prince, briefly and significantly.\r
+\r
+"I don't understand!" said Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+"No, it can't be helped, lad," said the prince. "They're all like that;\r
+one can't unmarry. Don't be afraid; I won't tell anyone, but you know it\r
+yourself."\r
+\r
+He seized his son by the hand with small bony fingers, shook it, looked\r
+straight into his son's face with keen eyes which seemed to see through\r
+him, and again laughed his frigid laugh.\r
+\r
+The son sighed, thus admitting that his father had understood him. The\r
+old man continued to fold and seal his letter, snatching up and throwing\r
+down the wax, the seal, and the paper, with his accustomed rapidity.\r
+\r
+"What's to be done? She's pretty! I will do everything. Make your mind\r
+easy," said he in abrupt sentences while sealing his letter.\r
+\r
+Andrew did not speak; he was both pleased and displeased that his father\r
+understood him. The old man got up and gave the letter to his son.\r
+\r
+"Listen!" said he; "don't worry about your wife: what can be done shall\r
+be. Now listen! Give this letter to Michael Ilarionovich. * I have\r
+written that he should make use of you in proper places and not keep you\r
+long as an adjutant: a bad position! Tell him I remember and like him.\r
+Write and tell me how he receives you. If he is all right--serve him.\r
+Nicholas Bolkonski's son need not serve under anyone if he is in\r
+disfavor. Now come here."\r
+\r
+\r
+*Kutuzov.\r
+\r
+He spoke so rapidly that he did not finish half his words, but his son\r
+was accustomed to understand him. He led him to the desk, raised the\r
+lid, drew out a drawer, and took out an exercise book filled with his\r
+bold, tall, close handwriting.\r
+\r
+"I shall probably die before you. So remember, these are my memoirs;\r
+hand them to the Emperor after my death. Now here is a Lombard bond and\r
+a letter; it is a premium for the man who writes a history of Suvorov's\r
+wars. Send it to the Academy. Here are some jottings for you to read\r
+when I am gone. You will find them useful."\r
+\r
+Andrew did not tell his father that he would no doubt live a long time\r
+yet. He felt that he must not say it.\r
+\r
+"I will do it all, Father," he said.\r
+\r
+"Well, now, good-by!" He gave his son his hand to kiss, and embraced\r
+him. "Remember this, Prince Andrew, if they kill you it will hurt me,\r
+your old father..." he paused unexpectedly, and then in a querulous\r
+voice suddenly shrieked: "but if I hear that you have not behaved like a\r
+son of Nicholas Bolkonski, I shall be ashamed!"\r
+\r
+"You need not have said that to me, Father," said the son with a smile.\r
+\r
+The old man was silent.\r
+\r
+"I also wanted to ask you," continued Prince Andrew, "if I'm killed and\r
+if I have a son, do not let him be taken away from you--as I said\r
+yesterday... let him grow up with you.... Please."\r
+\r
+"Not let the wife have him?" said the old man, and laughed.\r
+\r
+They stood silent, facing one another. The old man's sharp eyes were\r
+fixed straight on his son's. Something twitched in the lower part of the\r
+old prince's face.\r
+\r
+"We've said good-by. Go!" he suddenly shouted in a loud, angry voice,\r
+opening his door.\r
+\r
+"What is it? What?" asked both princesses when they saw for a moment at\r
+the door Prince Andrew and the figure of the old man in a white dressing\r
+gown, spectacled and wigless, shouting in an angry voice.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew sighed and made no reply.\r
+\r
+"Well!" he said, turning to his wife.\r
+\r
+And this "Well!" sounded coldly ironic, as if he were saying,: "Now go\r
+through your performance."\r
+\r
+"Andrew, already!" said the little princess, turning pale and looking\r
+with dismay at her husband.\r
+\r
+He embraced her. She screamed and fell unconscious on his shoulder.\r
+\r
+He cautiously released the shoulder she leaned on, looked into her face,\r
+and carefully placed her in an easy chair.\r
+\r
+"Adieu, Mary," said he gently to his sister, taking her by the hand and\r
+kissing her, and then he left the room with rapid steps.\r
+\r
+The little princess lay in the armchair, Mademoiselle Bourienne chafing\r
+her temples. Princess Mary, supporting her sister-in-law, still looked\r
+with her beautiful eyes full of tears at the door through which Prince\r
+Andrew had gone and made the sign of the cross in his direction. From\r
+the study, like pistol shots, came the frequent sound of the old man\r
+angrily blowing his nose. Hardly had Prince Andrew gone when the study\r
+door opened quickly and the stern figure of the old man in the white\r
+dressing gown looked out.\r
+\r
+"Gone? That's all right!" said he; and looking angrily at the\r
+unconscious little princess, he shook his head reprovingly and slammed\r
+the door.\r
+\r
+BOOK TWO: 1805\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+In October, 1805, a Russian army was occupying the villages and towns of\r
+the Archduchy of Austria, and yet other regiments freshly arriving from\r
+Russia were settling near the fortress of Braunau and burdening the\r
+inhabitants on whom they were quartered. Braunau was the headquarters of\r
+the commander-in-chief, Kutuzov.\r
+\r
+On October 11, 1805, one of the infantry regiments that had just reached\r
+Braunau had halted half a mile from the town, waiting to be inspected by\r
+the commander-in-chief. Despite the un-Russian appearance of the\r
+locality and surroundings--fruit gardens, stone fences, tiled roofs, and\r
+hills in the distance--and despite the fact that the inhabitants (who\r
+gazed with curiosity at the soldiers) were not Russians, the regiment\r
+had just the appearance of any Russian regiment preparing for an\r
+inspection anywhere in the heart of Russia.\r
+\r
+On the evening of the last day's march an order had been received that\r
+the commander-in-chief would inspect the regiment on the march. Though\r
+the words of the order were not clear to the regimental commander, and\r
+the question arose whether the troops were to be in marching order or\r
+not, it was decided at a consultation between the battalion commanders\r
+to present the regiment in parade order, on the principle that it is\r
+always better to "bow too low than not bow low enough." So the soldiers,\r
+after a twenty-mile march, were kept mending and cleaning all night long\r
+without closing their eyes, while the adjutants and company commanders\r
+calculated and reckoned, and by morning the regiment--instead of the\r
+straggling, disorderly crowd it had been on its last march the day\r
+before--presented a well-ordered array of two thousand men each of whom\r
+knew his place and his duty, had every button and every strap in place,\r
+and shone with cleanliness. And not only externally was all in order,\r
+but had it pleased the commander-in-chief to look under the uniforms he\r
+would have found on every man a clean shirt, and in every knapsack the\r
+appointed number of articles, "awl, soap, and all," as the soldiers say.\r
+There was only one circumstance concerning which no one could be at\r
+ease. It was the state of the soldiers' boots. More than half the men's\r
+boots were in holes. But this defect was not due to any fault of the\r
+regimental commander, for in spite of repeated demands boots had not\r
+been issued by the Austrian commissariat, and the regiment had marched\r
+some seven hundred miles.\r
+\r
+The commander of the regiment was an elderly, choleric, stout, and\r
+thick-set general with grizzled eyebrows and whiskers, and wider from\r
+chest to back than across the shoulders. He had on a brand-new uniform\r
+showing the creases where it had been folded and thick gold epaulettes\r
+which seemed to stand rather than lie down on his massive shoulders. He\r
+had the air of a man happily performing one of the most solemn duties of\r
+his life. He walked about in front of the line and at every step pulled\r
+himself up, slightly arching his back. It was plain that the commander\r
+admired his regiment, rejoiced in it, and that his whole mind was\r
+engrossed by it, yet his strut seemed to indicate that, besides military\r
+matters, social interests and the fair sex occupied no small part of his\r
+thoughts.\r
+\r
+"Well, Michael Mitrich, sir?" he said, addressing one of the battalion\r
+commanders who smilingly pressed forward (it was plain that they both\r
+felt happy). "We had our hands full last night. However, I think the\r
+regiment is not a bad one, eh?"\r
+\r
+The battalion commander perceived the jovial irony and laughed.\r
+\r
+"It would not be turned off the field even on the Tsaritsin Meadow."\r
+\r
+"What?" asked the commander.\r
+\r
+At that moment, on the road from the town on which signalers had been\r
+posted, two men appeared on horse back. They were an aide-de-camp\r
+followed by a Cossack.\r
+\r
+The aide-de-camp was sent to confirm the order which had not been\r
+clearly worded the day before, namely, that the commander-in-chief\r
+wished to see the regiment just in the state in which it had been on the\r
+march: in their greatcoats, and packs, and without any preparation\r
+whatever.\r
+\r
+A member of the Hofkriegsrath from Vienna had come to Kutuzov the day\r
+before with proposals and demands for him to join up with the army of\r
+the Archduke Ferdinand and Mack, and Kutuzov, not considering this\r
+junction advisable, meant, among other arguments in support of his view,\r
+to show the Austrian general the wretched state in which the troops\r
+arrived from Russia. With this object he intended to meet the regiment;\r
+so the worse the condition it was in, the better pleased the commander-\r
+in-chief would be. Though the aide-de-camp did not know these\r
+circumstances, he nevertheless delivered the definite order that the men\r
+should be in their greatcoats and in marching order, and that the\r
+commander-in-chief would otherwise be dissatisfied. On hearing this the\r
+regimental commander hung his head, silently shrugged his shoulders, and\r
+spread out his arms with a choleric gesture.\r
+\r
+"A fine mess we've made of it!" he remarked.\r
+\r
+"There now! Didn't I tell you, Michael Mitrich, that if it was said 'on\r
+the march' it meant in greatcoats?" said he reproachfully to the\r
+battalion commander. "Oh, my God!" he added, stepping resolutely\r
+forward. "Company commanders!" he shouted in a voice accustomed to\r
+command. "Sergeants major!... How soon will he be here?" he asked the\r
+aide-de-camp with a respectful politeness evidently relating to the\r
+personage he was referring to.\r
+\r
+"In an hour's time, I should say."\r
+\r
+"Shall we have time to change clothes?"\r
+\r
+"I don't know, General...."\r
+\r
+The regimental commander, going up to the line himself, ordered the\r
+soldiers to change into their greatcoats. The company commanders ran off\r
+to their companies, the sergeants major began bustling (the greatcoats\r
+were not in very good condition), and instantly the squares that had up\r
+to then been in regular order and silent began to sway and stretch and\r
+hum with voices. On all sides soldiers were running to and fro, throwing\r
+up their knapsacks with a jerk of their shoulders and pulling the straps\r
+over their heads, unstrapping their overcoats and drawing the sleeves on\r
+with upraised arms.\r
+\r
+In half an hour all was again in order, only the squares had become gray\r
+instead of black. The regimental commander walked with his jerky steps\r
+to the front of the regiment and examined it from a distance.\r
+\r
+"Whatever is this? This!" he shouted and stood still. "Commander of the\r
+third company!"\r
+\r
+"Commander of the third company wanted by the general!... commander to\r
+the general... third company to the commander." The words passed along\r
+the lines and an adjutant ran to look for the missing officer.\r
+\r
+When the eager but misrepeated words had reached their destination in a\r
+cry of: "The general to the third company," the missing officer appeared\r
+from behind his company and, though he was a middle-aged man and not in\r
+the habit of running, trotted awkwardly stumbling on his toes toward the\r
+general. The captain's face showed the uneasiness of a schoolboy who is\r
+told to repeat a lesson he has not learned. Spots appeared on his nose,\r
+the redness of which was evidently due to intemperance, and his mouth\r
+twitched nervously. The general looked the captain up and down as he\r
+came up panting, slackening his pace as he approached.\r
+\r
+"You will soon be dressing your men in petticoats! What is this?"\r
+shouted the regimental commander, thrusting forward his jaw and pointing\r
+at a soldier in the ranks of the third company in a greatcoat of bluish\r
+cloth, which contrasted with the others. "What have you been after? The\r
+commander in chief is expected and you leave your place? Eh? I'll teach\r
+you to dress the men in fancy coats for a parade.... Eh...?"\r
+\r
+The commander of the company, with his eyes fixed on his superior,\r
+pressed two fingers more and more rigidly to his cap, as if in this\r
+pressure lay his only hope of salvation.\r
+\r
+"Well, why don't you speak? Whom have you got there dressed up as a\r
+Hungarian?" said the commander with an austere gibe.\r
+\r
+"Your excellency..."\r
+\r
+"Well, your excellency, what? Your excellency! But what about your\r
+excellency?... nobody knows."\r
+\r
+"Your excellency, it's the officer Dolokhov, who has been reduced to the\r
+ranks," said the captain softly.\r
+\r
+"Well? Has he been degraded into a field marshal, or into a soldier? If\r
+a soldier, he should be dressed in regulation uniform like the others."\r
+\r
+"Your excellency, you gave him leave yourself, on the march."\r
+\r
+"Gave him leave? Leave? That's just like you young men," said the\r
+regimental commander cooling down a little. "Leave indeed.... One says a\r
+word to you and you... What?" he added with renewed irritation, "I beg\r
+you to dress your men decently."\r
+\r
+And the commander, turning to look at the adjutant, directed his jerky\r
+steps down the line. He was evidently pleased at his own display of\r
+anger and walking up to the regiment wished to find a further excuse for\r
+wrath. Having snapped at an officer for an unpolished badge, at another\r
+because his line was not straight, he reached the third company.\r
+\r
+"H-o-o-w are you standing? Where's your leg? Your leg?" shouted the\r
+commander with a tone of suffering in his voice, while there were still\r
+five men between him and Dolokhov with his bluish-gray uniform.\r
+\r
+Dolokhov slowly straightened his bent knee, looking straight with his\r
+clear, insolent eyes in the general's face.\r
+\r
+"Why a blue coat? Off with it... Sergeant major! Change his coat... the\r
+ras..." he did not finish.\r
+\r
+"General, I must obey orders, but I am not bound to endure..." Dolokhov\r
+hurriedly interrupted.\r
+\r
+"No talking in the ranks!... No talking, no talking!"\r
+\r
+"Not bound to endure insults," Dolokhov concluded in loud, ringing\r
+tones.\r
+\r
+The eyes of the general and the soldier met. The general became silent,\r
+angrily pulling down his tight scarf.\r
+\r
+"I request you to have the goodness to change your coat," he said as he\r
+turned away.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+"He's coming!" shouted the signaler at that moment.\r
+\r
+The regimental commander, flushing, ran to his horse, seized the stirrup\r
+with trembling hands, threw his body across the saddle, righted himself,\r
+drew his saber, and with a happy and resolute countenance, opening his\r
+mouth awry, prepared to shout. The regiment fluttered like a bird\r
+preening its plumage and became motionless.\r
+\r
+"Att-ention!" shouted the regimental commander in a soul-shaking voice\r
+which expressed joy for himself, severity for the regiment, and welcome\r
+for the approaching chief.\r
+\r
+Along the broad country road, edged on both sides by trees, came a high,\r
+light blue Viennese caleche, slightly creaking on its springs and drawn\r
+by six horses at a smart trot. Behind the caleche galloped the suite and\r
+a convoy of Croats. Beside Kutuzov sat an Austrian general, in a white\r
+uniform that looked strange among the Russian black ones. The caleche\r
+stopped in front of the regiment. Kutuzov and the Austrian general were\r
+talking in low voices and Kutuzov smiled slightly as treading heavily he\r
+stepped down from the carriage just as if those two thousand men\r
+breathlessly gazing at him and the regimental commander did not exist.\r
+\r
+The word of command rang out, and again the regiment quivered, as with a\r
+jingling sound it presented arms. Then amidst a dead silence the feeble\r
+voice of the commander-in-chief was heard. The regiment roared, "Health\r
+to your ex... len... len... lency!" and again all became silent. At\r
+first Kutuzov stood still while the regiment moved; then he and the\r
+general in white, accompanied by the suite, walked between the ranks.\r
+\r
+From the way the regimental commander saluted the commander-in-chief and\r
+devoured him with his eyes, drawing himself up obsequiously, and from\r
+the way he walked through the ranks behind the generals, bending forward\r
+and hardly able to restrain his jerky movements, and from the way he\r
+darted forward at every word or gesture of the commander-in-chief, it\r
+was evident that he performed his duty as a subordinate with even\r
+greater zeal than his duty as a commander. Thanks to the strictness and\r
+assiduity of its commander the regiment, in comparison with others that\r
+had reached Braunau at the same time, was in splendid condition. There\r
+were only 217 sick and stragglers. Everything was in good order except\r
+the boots.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov walked through the ranks, sometimes stopping to say a few\r
+friendly words to officers he had known in the Turkish war, sometimes\r
+also to the soldiers. Looking at their boots he several times shook his\r
+head sadly, pointing them out to the Austrian general with an expression\r
+which seemed to say that he was not blaming anyone, but could not help\r
+noticing what a bad state of things it was. The regimental commander ran\r
+forward on each such occasion, fearing to miss a single word of the\r
+commander-in-chief's regarding the regiment. Behind Kutuzov, at a\r
+distance that allowed every softly spoken word to be heard, followed\r
+some twenty men of his suite. These gentlemen talked among themselves\r
+and sometimes laughed. Nearest of all to the commander-in-chief walked a\r
+handsome adjutant. This was Prince Bolkonski. Beside him was his comrade\r
+Nesvitski, a tall staff officer, extremely stout, with a kindly,\r
+smiling, handsome face and moist eyes. Nesvitski could hardly keep from\r
+laughter provoked by a swarthy hussar officer who walked beside him.\r
+This hussar, with a grave face and without a smile or a change in the\r
+expression of his fixed eyes, watched the regimental commander's back\r
+and mimicked his every movement. Each time the commander started and\r
+bent forward, the hussar started and bent forward in exactly the same\r
+manner. Nesvitski laughed and nudged the others to make them look at the\r
+wag.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov walked slowly and languidly past thousands of eyes which were\r
+starting from their sockets to watch their chief. On reaching the third\r
+company he suddenly stopped. His suite, not having expected this,\r
+involuntarily came closer to him.\r
+\r
+"Ah, Timokhin!" said he, recognizing the red-nosed captain who had been\r
+reprimanded on account of the blue greatcoat.\r
+\r
+One would have thought it impossible for a man to stretch himself more\r
+than Timokhin had done when he was reprimanded by the regimental\r
+commander, but now that the commander-in-chief addressed him he drew\r
+himself up to such an extent that it seemed he could not have sustained\r
+it had the commander-in-chief continued to look at him, and so Kutuzov,\r
+who evidently understood his case and wished him nothing but good,\r
+quickly turned away, a scarcely perceptible smile flitting over his\r
+scarred and puffy face.\r
+\r
+"Another Ismail comrade," said he. "A brave officer! Are you satisfied\r
+with him?" he asked the regimental commander.\r
+\r
+And the latter--unconscious that he was being reflected in the hussar\r
+officer as in a looking glass--started, moved forward, and answered:\r
+"Highly satisfied, your excellency!"\r
+\r
+"We all have our weaknesses," said Kutuzov smiling and walking away from\r
+him. "He used to have a predilection for Bacchus."\r
+\r
+The regimental commander was afraid he might be blamed for this and did\r
+not answer. The hussar at that moment noticed the face of the red-nosed\r
+captain and his drawn-in stomach, and mimicked his expression and pose\r
+with such exactitude that Nesvitski could not help laughing. Kutuzov\r
+turned round. The officer evidently had complete control of his face,\r
+and while Kutuzov was turning managed to make a grimace and then assume\r
+a most serious, deferential, and innocent expression.\r
+\r
+The third company was the last, and Kutuzov pondered, apparently trying\r
+to recollect something. Prince Andrew stepped forward from among the\r
+suite and said in French:\r
+\r
+"You told me to remind you of the officer Dolokhov, reduced to the ranks\r
+in this regiment."\r
+\r
+"Where is Dolokhov?" asked Kutuzov.\r
+\r
+Dolokhov, who had already changed into a soldier's gray greatcoat, did\r
+not wait to be called. The shapely figure of the fair-haired soldier,\r
+with his clear blue eyes, stepped forward from the ranks, went up to the\r
+commander in chief, and presented arms.\r
+\r
+"Have you a complaint to make?" Kutuzov asked with a slight frown.\r
+\r
+"This is Dolokhov," said Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+"Ah!" said Kutuzov. "I hope this will be a lesson to you. Do your duty.\r
+The Emperor is gracious, and I shan't forget you if you deserve well."\r
+\r
+The clear blue eyes looked at the commander-in-chief just as boldly as\r
+they had looked at the regimental commander, seeming by their expression\r
+to tear open the veil of convention that separates a commander-in-chief\r
+so widely from a private.\r
+\r
+"One thing I ask of your excellency," Dolokhov said in his firm,\r
+ringing, deliberate voice. "I ask an opportunity to atone for my fault\r
+and prove my devotion to His Majesty the Emperor and to Russia!"\r
+\r
+Kutuzov turned away. The same smile of the eyes with which he had turned\r
+from Captain Timokhin again flitted over his face. He turned away with a\r
+grimace as if to say that everything Dolokhov had said to him and\r
+everything he could say had long been known to him, that he was weary of\r
+it and it was not at all what he wanted. He turned away and went to the\r
+carriage.\r
+\r
+The regiment broke up into companies, which went to their appointed\r
+quarters near Braunau, where they hoped to receive boots and clothes and\r
+to rest after their hard marches.\r
+\r
+"You won't bear me a grudge, Prokhor Ignatych?" said the regimental\r
+commander, overtaking the third company on its way to its quarters and\r
+riding up to Captain Timokhin who was walking in front. (The regimental\r
+commander's face now that the inspection was happily over beamed with\r
+irrepressible delight.) "It's in the Emperor's service... it can't be\r
+helped... one is sometimes a bit hasty on parade... I am the first to\r
+apologize, you know me!... He was very pleased!" And he held out his\r
+hand to the captain.\r
+\r
+"Don't mention it, General, as if I'd be so bold!" replied the captain,\r
+his nose growing redder as he gave a smile which showed where two front\r
+teeth were missing that had been knocked out by the butt end of a gun at\r
+Ismail.\r
+\r
+"And tell Mr. Dolokhov that I won't forget him--he may be quite easy.\r
+And tell me, please--I've been meaning to ask--how is he behaving\r
+himself, and in general..."\r
+\r
+"As far as the service goes he is quite punctilious, your excellency;\r
+but his character..." said Timokhin.\r
+\r
+"And what about his character?" asked the regimental commander.\r
+\r
+"It's different on different days," answered the captain. "One day he is\r
+sensible, well educated, and good-natured, and the next he's a wild\r
+beast.... In Poland, if you please, he nearly killed a Jew."\r
+\r
+"Oh, well, well!" remarked the regimental commander. "Still, one must\r
+have pity on a young man in misfortune. You know he has important\r
+connections... Well, then, you just..."\r
+\r
+"I will, your excellency," said Timokhin, showing by his smile that he\r
+understood his commander's wish.\r
+\r
+"Well, of course, of course!"\r
+\r
+The regimental commander sought out Dolokhov in the ranks and, reining\r
+in his horse, said to him:\r
+\r
+"After the next affair... epaulettes."\r
+\r
+Dolokhov looked round but did not say anything, nor did the mocking\r
+smile on his lips change.\r
+\r
+"Well, that's all right," continued the regimental commander. "A cup of\r
+vodka for the men from me," he added so that the soldiers could hear. "I\r
+thank you all! God be praised!" and he rode past that company and\r
+overtook the next one.\r
+\r
+"Well, he's really a good fellow, one can serve under him," said\r
+Timokhin to the subaltern beside him.\r
+\r
+"In a word, a hearty one..." said the subaltern, laughing (the\r
+regimental commander was nicknamed King of Hearts).\r
+\r
+The cheerful mood of their officers after the inspection infected the\r
+soldiers. The company marched on gaily. The soldiers' voices could be\r
+heard on every side.\r
+\r
+"And they said Kutuzov was blind of one eye?"\r
+\r
+"And so he is! Quite blind!"\r
+\r
+"No, friend, he is sharper-eyed than you are. Boots and leg bands... he\r
+noticed everything..."\r
+\r
+"When he looked at my feet, friend... well, thinks I..."\r
+\r
+"And that other one with him, the Austrian, looked as if he were smeared\r
+with chalk--as white as flour! I suppose they polish him up as they do\r
+the guns."\r
+\r
+"I say, Fedeshon!... Did he say when the battles are to begin? You were\r
+near him. Everybody said that Buonaparte himself was at Braunau."\r
+\r
+"Buonaparte himself!... Just listen to the fool, what he doesn't know!\r
+The Prussians are up in arms now. The Austrians, you see, are putting\r
+them down. When they've been put down, the war with Buonaparte will\r
+begin. And he says Buonaparte is in Braunau! Shows you're a fool. You'd\r
+better listen more carefully!"\r
+\r
+"What devils these quartermasters are! See, the fifth company is turning\r
+into the village already... they will have their buckwheat cooked before\r
+we reach our quarters."\r
+\r
+"Give me a biscuit, you devil!"\r
+\r
+"And did you give me tobacco yesterday? That's just it, friend! Ah,\r
+well, never mind, here you are."\r
+\r
+"They might call a halt here or we'll have to do another four miles\r
+without eating."\r
+\r
+"Wasn't it fine when those Germans gave us lifts! You just sit still and\r
+are drawn along."\r
+\r
+"And here, friend, the people are quite beggarly. There they all seemed\r
+to be Poles--all under the Russian crown--but here they're all regular\r
+Germans."\r
+\r
+"Singers to the front" came the captain's order.\r
+\r
+And from the different ranks some twenty men ran to the front. A\r
+drummer, their leader, turned round facing the singers, and flourishing\r
+his arm, began a long-drawn-out soldiers' song, commencing with the\r
+words: "Morning dawned, the sun was rising," and concluding: "On then,\r
+brothers, on to glory, led by Father Kamenski." This song had been\r
+composed in the Turkish campaign and now being sung in Austria, the only\r
+change being that the words "Father Kamenski" were replaced by "Father\r
+Kutuzov."\r
+\r
+Having jerked out these last words as soldiers do and waved his arms as\r
+if flinging something to the ground, the drummer--a lean, handsome\r
+soldier of forty--looked sternly at the singers and screwed up his eyes.\r
+Then having satisfied himself that all eyes were fixed on him, he raised\r
+both arms as if carefully lifting some invisible but precious object\r
+above his head and, holding it there for some seconds, suddenly flung it\r
+down and began:\r
+\r
+"Oh, my bower, oh, my bower...!"\r
+\r
+"Oh, my bower new...!" chimed in twenty voices, and the castanet player,\r
+in spite of the burden of his equipment, rushed out to the front and,\r
+walking backwards before the company, jerked his shoulders and\r
+flourished his castanets as if threatening someone. The soldiers,\r
+swinging their arms and keeping time spontaneously, marched with long\r
+steps. Behind the company the sound of wheels, the creaking of springs,\r
+and the tramp of horses' hoofs were heard. Kutuzov and his suite were\r
+returning to the town. The commander-in-chief made a sign that the men\r
+should continue to march at ease, and he and all his suite showed\r
+pleasure at the sound of the singing and the sight of the dancing\r
+soldier and the gay and smartly marching men. In the second file from\r
+the right flank, beside which the carriage passed the company, a blue-\r
+eyed soldier involuntarily attracted notice. It was Dolokhov marching\r
+with particular grace and boldness in time to the song and looking at\r
+those driving past as if he pitied all who were not at that moment\r
+marching with the company. The hussar cornet of Kutuzov's suite who had\r
+mimicked the regimental commander, fell back from the carriage and rode\r
+up to Dolokhov.\r
+\r
+Hussar cornet Zherkov had at one time, in Petersburg, belonged to the\r
+wild set led by Dolokhov. Zherkov had met Dolokhov abroad as a private\r
+and had not seen fit to recognize him. But now that Kutuzov had spoken\r
+to the gentleman ranker, he addressed him with the cordiality of an old\r
+friend.\r
+\r
+"My dear fellow, how are you?" said he through the singing, making his\r
+horse keep pace with the company.\r
+\r
+"How am I?" Dolokhov answered coldly. "I am as you see."\r
+\r
+The lively song gave a special flavor to the tone of free and easy\r
+gaiety with which Zherkov spoke, and to the intentional coldness of\r
+Dolokhov's reply.\r
+\r
+"And how do you get on with the officers?" inquired Zherkov.\r
+\r
+"All right. They are good fellows. And how have you wriggled onto the\r
+staff?"\r
+\r
+"I was attached; I'm on duty."\r
+\r
+Both were silent.\r
+\r
+"She let the hawk fly upward from her wide right sleeve," went the song,\r
+arousing an involuntary sensation of courage and cheerfulness. Their\r
+conversation would probably have been different but for the effect of\r
+that song.\r
+\r
+"Is it true that Austrians have been beaten?" asked Dolokhov.\r
+\r
+"The devil only knows! They say so."\r
+\r
+"I'm glad," answered Dolokhov briefly and clearly, as the song demanded.\r
+\r
+"I say, come round some evening and we'll have a game of faro!" said\r
+Zherkov.\r
+\r
+"Why, have you too much money?"\r
+\r
+"Do come."\r
+\r
+"I can't. I've sworn not to. I won't drink and won't play till I get\r
+reinstated."\r
+\r
+"Well, that's only till the first engagement."\r
+\r
+"We shall see."\r
+\r
+They were again silent.\r
+\r
+"Come if you need anything. One can at least be of use on the staff..."\r
+\r
+Dolokhov smiled. "Don't trouble. If I want anything, I won't beg--I'll\r
+take it!"\r
+\r
+"Well, never mind; I only..."\r
+\r
+"And I only..."\r
+\r
+"Good-bye."\r
+\r
+"Good health..."\r
+\r
+\r
+"It's a long, long way. To my native land..."\r
+\r
+Zherkov touched his horse with the spurs; it pranced excitedly from foot\r
+to foot uncertain with which to start, then settled down, galloped past\r
+the company, and overtook the carriage, still keeping time to the song.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+On returning from the review, Kutuzov took the Austrian general into his\r
+private room and, calling his adjutant, asked for some papers relating\r
+to the condition of the troops on their arrival, and the letters that\r
+had come from the Archduke Ferdinand, who was in command of the advanced\r
+army. Prince Andrew Bolkonski came into the room with the required\r
+papers. Kutuzov and the Austrian member of the Hofkriegsrath were\r
+sitting at the table on which a plan was spread out.\r
+\r
+"Ah!..." said Kutuzov glancing at Bolkonski as if by this exclamation he\r
+was asking the adjutant to wait, and he went on with the conversation in\r
+French.\r
+\r
+"All I can say, General," said he with a pleasant elegance of expression\r
+and intonation that obliged one to listen to each deliberately spoken\r
+word. It was evident that Kutuzov himself listened with pleasure to his\r
+own voice. "All I can say, General, is that if the matter depended on my\r
+personal wishes, the will of His Majesty the Emperor Francis would have\r
+been fulfilled long ago. I should long ago have joined the archduke. And\r
+believe me on my honour that to me personally it would be a pleasure to\r
+hand over the supreme command of the army into the hands of a better\r
+informed and more skillful general--of whom Austria has so many--and to\r
+lay down all this heavy responsibility. But circumstances are sometimes\r
+too strong for us, General."\r
+\r
+And Kutuzov smiled in a way that seemed to say, "You are quite at\r
+liberty not to believe me and I don't even care whether you do or not,\r
+but you have no grounds for telling me so. And that is the whole point."\r
+\r
+The Austrian general looked dissatisfied, but had no option but to reply\r
+in the same tone.\r
+\r
+"On the contrary," he said, in a querulous and angry tone that\r
+contrasted with his flattering words, "on the contrary, your\r
+excellency's participation in the common action is highly valued by His\r
+Majesty; but we think the present delay is depriving the splendid\r
+Russian troops and their commander of the laurels they have been\r
+accustomed to win in their battles," he concluded his evidently\r
+prearranged sentence.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov bowed with the same smile.\r
+\r
+"But that is my conviction, and judging by the last letter with which\r
+His Highness the Archduke Ferdinand has honored me, I imagine that the\r
+Austrian troops, under the direction of so skillful a leader as General\r
+Mack, have by now already gained a decisive victory and no longer need\r
+our aid," said Kutuzov.\r
+\r
+The general frowned. Though there was no definite news of an Austrian\r
+defeat, there were many circumstances confirming the unfavorable rumors\r
+that were afloat, and so Kutuzov's suggestion of an Austrian victory\r
+sounded much like irony. But Kutuzov went on blandly smiling with the\r
+same expression, which seemed to say that he had a right to suppose so.\r
+And, in fact, the last letter he had received from Mack's army informed\r
+him of a victory and stated strategically the position of the army was\r
+very favorable.\r
+\r
+"Give me that letter," said Kutuzov turning to Prince Andrew. "Please\r
+have a look at it"--and Kutuzov with an ironical smile about the corners\r
+of his mouth read to the Austrian general the following passage, in\r
+German, from the Archduke Ferdinand's letter:\r
+\r
+We have fully concentrated forces of nearly seventy thousand men with\r
+which to attack and defeat the enemy should he cross the Lech. Also, as\r
+we are masters of Ulm, we cannot be deprived of the advantage of\r
+commanding both sides of the Danube, so that should the enemy not cross\r
+the Lech, we can cross the Danube, throw ourselves on his line of\r
+communications, recross the river lower down, and frustrate his\r
+intention should he try to direct his whole force against our faithful\r
+ally. We shall therefore confidently await the moment when the Imperial\r
+Russian army will be fully equipped, and shall then, in conjunction with\r
+it, easily find a way to prepare for the enemy the fate he deserves.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov sighed deeply on finishing this paragraph and looked at the\r
+member of the Hofkriegsrath mildly and attentively.\r
+\r
+"But you know the wise maxim your excellency, advising one to expect the\r
+worst," said the Austrian general, evidently wishing to have done with\r
+jests and to come to business. He involuntarily looked round at the\r
+aide-de-camp.\r
+\r
+"Excuse me, General," interrupted Kutuzov, also turning to Prince\r
+Andrew. "Look here, my dear fellow, get from Kozlovski all the reports\r
+from our scouts. Here are two letters from Count Nostitz and here is one\r
+from His Highness the Archduke Ferdinand and here are these," he said,\r
+handing him several papers, "make a neat memorandum in French out of all\r
+this, showing all the news we have had of the movements of the Austrian\r
+army, and then give it to his excellency."\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew bowed his head in token of having understood from the\r
+first not only what had been said but also what Kutuzov would have liked\r
+to tell him. He gathered up the papers and with a bow to both, stepped\r
+softly over the carpet and went out into the waiting room.\r
+\r
+Though not much time had passed since Prince Andrew had left Russia, he\r
+had changed greatly during that period. In the expression of his face,\r
+in his movements, in his walk, scarcely a trace was left of his former\r
+affected languor and indolence. He now looked like a man who has time to\r
+think of the impression he makes on others, but is occupied with\r
+agreeable and interesting work. His face expressed more satisfaction\r
+with himself and those around him, his smile and glance were brighter\r
+and more attractive.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov, whom he had overtaken in Poland, had received him very kindly,\r
+promised not to forget him, distinguished him above the other adjutants,\r
+and had taken him to Vienna and given him the more serious commissions.\r
+From Vienna Kutuzov wrote to his old comrade, Prince Andrew's father.\r
+\r
+Your son bids fair to become an officer distinguished by his industry,\r
+firmness, and expedition. I consider myself fortunate to have such a\r
+subordinate by me.\r
+\r
+On Kutuzov's staff, among his fellow officers and in the army generally,\r
+Prince Andrew had, as he had had in Petersburg society, two quite\r
+opposite reputations. Some, a minority, acknowledged him to be different\r
+from themselves and from everyone else, expected great things of him,\r
+listened to him, admired, and imitated him, and with them Prince Andrew\r
+was natural and pleasant. Others, the majority, disliked him and\r
+considered him conceited, cold, and disagreeable. But among these people\r
+Prince Andrew knew how to take his stand so that they respected and even\r
+feared him.\r
+\r
+Coming out of Kutuzov's room into the waiting room with the papers in\r
+his hand Prince Andrew came up to his comrade, the aide-de-camp on duty,\r
+Kozlovski, who was sitting at the window with a book.\r
+\r
+"Well, Prince?" asked Kozlovski.\r
+\r
+"I am ordered to write a memorandum explaining why we are not\r
+advancing."\r
+\r
+"And why is it?"\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew shrugged his shoulders.\r
+\r
+"Any news from Mack?"\r
+\r
+"No."\r
+\r
+"If it were true that he has been beaten, news would have come."\r
+\r
+"Probably," said Prince Andrew moving toward the outer door.\r
+\r
+But at that instant a tall Austrian general in a greatcoat, with the\r
+order of Maria Theresa on his neck and a black bandage round his head,\r
+who had evidently just arrived, entered quickly, slamming the door.\r
+Prince Andrew stopped short.\r
+\r
+"Commander in Chief Kutuzov?" said the newly arrived general speaking\r
+quickly with a harsh German accent, looking to both sides and advancing\r
+straight toward the inner door.\r
+\r
+"The commander-in-chief is engaged," said Kozlovski, going hurriedly up\r
+to the unknown general and blocking his way to the door. "Whom shall I\r
+announce?"\r
+\r
+The unknown general looked disdainfully down at Kozlovski, who was\r
+rather short, as if surprised that anyone should not know him.\r
+\r
+"The commander-in-chief is engaged," repeated Kozlovski calmly.\r
+\r
+The general's face clouded, his lips quivered and trembled. He took out\r
+a notebook, hurriedly scribbled something in pencil, tore out the leaf,\r
+gave it to Kozlovski, stepped quickly to the window, and threw himself\r
+into a chair, gazing at those in the room as if asking, "Why do they\r
+look at me?" Then he lifted his head, stretched his neck as if he\r
+intended to say something, but immediately, with affected indifference,\r
+began to hum to himself, producing a queer sound which immediately broke\r
+off. The door of the private room opened and Kutuzov appeared in the\r
+doorway. The general with the bandaged head bent forward as though\r
+running away from some danger, and, making long, quick strides with his\r
+thin legs, went up to Kutuzov.\r
+\r
+"Vous voyez le malheureux Mack," he uttered in a broken voice.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov's face as he stood in the open doorway remained perfectly\r
+immobile for a few moments. Then wrinkles ran over his face like a wave\r
+and his forehead became smooth again, he bowed his head respectfully,\r
+closed his eyes, silently let Mack enter his room before him, and closed\r
+the door himself behind him.\r
+\r
+The report which had been circulated that the Austrians had been beaten\r
+and that the whole army had surrendered at Ulm proved to be correct.\r
+Within half an hour adjutants had been sent in various directions with\r
+orders which showed that the Russian troops, who had hitherto been\r
+inactive, would also soon have to meet the enemy.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew was one of those rare staff officers whose chief interest\r
+lay in the general progress of the war. When he saw Mack and heard the\r
+details of his disaster he understood that half the campaign was lost,\r
+understood all the difficulties of the Russian army's position, and\r
+vividly imagined what awaited it and the part he would have to play.\r
+Involuntarily he felt a joyful agitation at the thought of the\r
+humiliation of arrogant Austria and that in a week's time he might,\r
+perhaps, see and take part in the first Russian encounter with the\r
+French since Suvorov met them. He feared that Bonaparte's genius might\r
+outweigh all the courage of the Russian troops, and at the same time\r
+could not admit the idea of his hero being disgraced.\r
+\r
+Excited and irritated by these thoughts Prince Andrew went toward his\r
+room to write to his father, to whom he wrote every day. In the corridor\r
+he met Nesvitski, with whom he shared a room, and the wag Zherkov; they\r
+were as usual laughing.\r
+\r
+"Why are you so glum?" asked Nesvitski noticing Prince Andrew's pale\r
+face and glittering eyes.\r
+\r
+"There's nothing to be gay about," answered Bolkonski.\r
+\r
+Just as Prince Andrew met Nesvitski and Zherkov, there came toward them\r
+from the other end of the corridor, Strauch, an Austrian general who on\r
+Kutuzov's staff in charge of the provisioning of the Russian army, and\r
+the member of the Hofkriegsrath who had arrived the previous evening.\r
+There was room enough in the wide corridor for the generals to pass the\r
+three officers quite easily, but Zherkov, pushing Nesvitski aside with\r
+his arm, said in a breathless voice,\r
+\r
+"They're coming!... they're coming!... Stand aside, make way, please\r
+make way!"\r
+\r
+The generals were passing by, looking as if they wished to avoid\r
+embarrassing attentions. On the face of the wag Zherkov there suddenly\r
+appeared a stupid smile of glee which he seemed unable to suppress.\r
+\r
+"Your excellency," said he in German, stepping forward and addressing\r
+the Austrian general, "I have the honor to congratulate you."\r
+\r
+He bowed his head and scraped first with one foot and then with the\r
+other, awkwardly, like a child at a dancing lesson.\r
+\r
+The member of the Hofkriegsrath looked at him severely but, seeing the\r
+seriousness of his stupid smile, could not but give him a moment's\r
+attention. He screwed up his eyes showing that he was listening.\r
+\r
+"I have the honor to congratulate you. General Mack has arrived, quite\r
+well, only a little bruised just here," he added, pointing with a\r
+beaming smile to his head.\r
+\r
+The general frowned, turned away, and went on.\r
+\r
+"Gott, wie naiv!" * said he angrily, after he had gone a few steps.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Good God, what simplicity!"\r
+\r
+Nesvitski with a laugh threw his arms round Prince Andrew, but\r
+Bolkonski, turning still paler, pushed him away with an angry look and\r
+turned to Zherkov. The nervous irritation aroused by the appearance of\r
+Mack, the news of his defeat, and the thought of what lay before the\r
+Russian army found vent in anger at Zherkov's untimely jest.\r
+\r
+"If you, sir, choose to make a buffoon of yourself," he said sharply,\r
+with a slight trembling of the lower jaw, "I can't prevent your doing\r
+so; but I warn you that if you dare to play the fool in my presence, I\r
+will teach you to behave yourself."\r
+\r
+Nesvitski and Zherkov were so surprised by this outburst that they gazed\r
+at Bolkonski silently with wide-open eyes.\r
+\r
+"What's the matter? I only congratulated them," said Zherkov.\r
+\r
+"I am not jesting with you; please be silent!" cried Bolkonski, and\r
+taking Nesvitski's arm he left Zherkov, who did not know what to say.\r
+\r
+"Come, what's the matter, old fellow?" said Nesvitski trying to soothe\r
+him.\r
+\r
+"What's the matter?" exclaimed Prince Andrew standing still in his\r
+excitement. "Don't you understand that either we are officers serving\r
+our Tsar and our country, rejoicing in the successes and grieving at the\r
+misfortunes of our common cause, or we are merely lackeys who care\r
+nothing for their master's business. Quarante mille hommes massacres et\r
+l'armee de nos allies detruite, et vous trouvez la le mot pour rire," *\r
+he said, as if strengthening his views by this French sentence. "C'est\r
+bien pour un garcon de rien comme cet individu dont vous avez fait un\r
+ami, mais pas pour vous, pas pour vous. *(2) Only a hobbledehoy could\r
+amuse himself in this way," he added in Russian--but pronouncing the\r
+word with a French accent--having noticed that Zherkov could still hear\r
+him.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Forty thousand men massacred and the army of our allies destroyed,\r
+and you find that a cause for jesting!"\r
+\r
+* (2) "It is all very well for that good-for-nothing fellow of whom you\r
+have made a friend, but not for you, not for you."\r
+\r
+He waited a moment to see whether the cornet would answer, but he turned\r
+and went out of the corridor.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+The Pavlograd Hussars were stationed two miles from Braunau. The\r
+squadron in which Nicholas Rostov served as a cadet was quartered in the\r
+German village of Salzeneck. The best quarters in the village were\r
+assigned to cavalry-captain Denisov, the squadron commander, known\r
+throughout the whole cavalry division as Vaska Denisov. Cadet Rostov,\r
+ever since he had overtaken the regiment in Poland, had lived with the\r
+squadron commander.\r
+\r
+On October 11, the day when all was astir at headquarters over the news\r
+of Mack's defeat, the camp life of the officers of this squadron was\r
+proceeding as usual. Denisov, who had been losing at cards all night,\r
+had not yet come home when Rostov rode back early in the morning from a\r
+foraging expedition. Rostov in his cadet uniform, with a jerk to his\r
+horse, rode up to the porch, swung his leg over the saddle with a supple\r
+youthful movement, stood for a moment in the stirrup as if loathe to\r
+part from his horse, and at last sprang down and called to his orderly.\r
+\r
+"Ah, Bondarenko, dear friend!" said he to the hussar who rushed up\r
+headlong to the horse. "Walk him up and down, my dear fellow," he\r
+continued, with that gay brotherly cordiality which goodhearted young\r
+people show to everyone when they are happy.\r
+\r
+"Yes, your excellency," answered the Ukrainian gaily, tossing his head.\r
+\r
+"Mind, walk him up and down well!"\r
+\r
+Another hussar also rushed toward the horse, but Bondarenko had already\r
+thrown the reins of the snaffle bridle over the horse's head. It was\r
+evident that the cadet was liberal with his tips and that it paid to\r
+serve him. Rostov patted the horse's neck and then his flank, and\r
+lingered for a moment.\r
+\r
+"Splendid! What a horse he will be!" he thought with a smile, and\r
+holding up his saber, his spurs jingling, he ran up the steps of the\r
+porch. His landlord, who in a waistcoat and a pointed cap, pitchfork in\r
+hand, was clearing manure from the cowhouse, looked out, and his face\r
+immediately brightened on seeing Rostov. "Schon gut Morgen! Schon gut\r
+Morgen!" * he said winking with a merry smile, evidently pleased to\r
+greet the young man.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "A very good morning! A very good morning!"\r
+\r
+"Schon fleissig?" * said Rostov with the same gay brotherly smile which\r
+did not leave his eager face. "Hoch Oestreicher! Hoch Russen! Kaiser\r
+Alexander hoch!" *(2) said he, quoting words often repeated by the\r
+German landlord.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Busy already?"\r
+\r
+* (2) "Hurrah for the Austrians! Hurrah for the Russians! Hurrah for\r
+Emperor Alexander!"\r
+\r
+The German laughed, came out of the cowshed, pulled off his cap, and\r
+waving it above his head cried:\r
+\r
+"Und die ganze Welt hoch!" *\r
+\r
+\r
+* "And hurrah for the whole world!"\r
+\r
+Rostov waved his cap above his head like the German and cried laughing,\r
+"Und vivat die ganze Welt!" Though neither the German cleaning his\r
+cowshed nor Rostov back with his platoon from foraging for hay had any\r
+reason for rejoicing, they looked at each other with joyful delight and\r
+brotherly love, wagged their heads in token of their mutual affection,\r
+and parted smiling, the German returning to his cowshed and Rostov going\r
+to the cottage he occupied with Denisov.\r
+\r
+"What about your master?" he asked Lavrushka, Denisov's orderly, whom\r
+all the regiment knew for a rogue.\r
+\r
+"Hasn't been in since the evening. Must have been losing," answered\r
+Lavrushka. "I know by now, if he wins he comes back early to brag about\r
+it, but if he stays out till morning it means he's lost and will come\r
+back in a rage. Will you have coffee?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, bring some."\r
+\r
+Ten minutes later Lavrushka brought the coffee. "He's coming!" said he.\r
+"Now for trouble!" Rostov looked out of the window and saw Denisov\r
+coming home. Denisov was a small man with a red face, sparkling black\r
+eyes, and black tousled mustache and hair. He wore an unfastened cloak,\r
+wide breeches hanging down in creases, and a crumpled shako on the back\r
+of his head. He came up to the porch gloomily, hanging his head.\r
+\r
+"Lavwuska!" he shouted loudly and angrily, "take it off, blockhead!"\r
+\r
+"Well, I am taking it off," replied Lavrushka's voice.\r
+\r
+"Ah, you're up already," said Denisov, entering the room.\r
+\r
+"Long ago," answered Rostov, "I have already been for the hay, and have\r
+seen Fraulein Mathilde."\r
+\r
+"Weally! And I've been losing, bwother. I lost yesterday like a damned\r
+fool!" cried Denisov, not pronouncing his r's. "Such ill luck! Such ill\r
+luck. As soon as you left, it began and went on. Hullo there! Tea!"\r
+\r
+Puckering up his face though smiling, and showing his short strong\r
+teeth, he began with stubby fingers of both hands to ruffle up his thick\r
+tangled black hair.\r
+\r
+"And what devil made me go to that wat?" (an officer nicknamed "the\r
+rat") he said, rubbing his forehead and whole face with both hands.\r
+"Just fancy, he didn't let me win a single cahd, not one cahd."\r
+\r
+He took the lighted pipe that was offered to him, gripped it in his\r
+fist, and tapped it on the floor, making the sparks fly, while he\r
+continued to shout.\r
+\r
+"He lets one win the singles and collahs it as soon as one doubles it;\r
+gives the singles and snatches the doubles!"\r
+\r
+He scattered the burning tobacco, smashed the pipe, and threw it away.\r
+Then he remained silent for a while, and all at once looked cheerfully\r
+with his glittering, black eyes at Rostov.\r
+\r
+"If at least we had some women here; but there's nothing foh one to do\r
+but dwink. If we could only get to fighting soon. Hullo, who's there?"\r
+he said, turning to the door as he heard a tread of heavy boots and the\r
+clinking of spurs that came to a stop, and a respectful cough.\r
+\r
+"The squadron quartermaster!" said Lavrushka.\r
+\r
+Denisov's face puckered still more.\r
+\r
+"Wetched!" he muttered, throwing down a purse with some gold in it.\r
+"Wostov, deah fellow, just see how much there is left and shove the\r
+purse undah the pillow," he said, and went out to the quartermaster.\r
+\r
+Rostov took the money and, mechanically arranging the old and new coins\r
+in separate piles, began counting them.\r
+\r
+"Ah! Telyanin! How d'ye do? They plucked me last night," came Denisov's\r
+voice from the next room.\r
+\r
+"Where? At Bykov's, at the rat's... I knew it," replied a piping voice,\r
+and Lieutenant Telyanin, a small officer of the same squadron, entered\r
+the room.\r
+\r
+Rostov thrust the purse under the pillow and shook the damp little hand\r
+which was offered him. Telyanin for some reason had been transferred\r
+from the Guards just before this campaign. He behaved very well in the\r
+regiment but was not liked; Rostov especially detested him and was\r
+unable to overcome or conceal his groundless antipathy to the man.\r
+\r
+"Well, young cavalryman, how is my Rook behaving?" he asked. (Rook was a\r
+young horse Telyanin had sold to Rostov.)\r
+\r
+The lieutenant never looked the man he was speaking to straight in the\r
+face; his eyes continually wandered from one object to another.\r
+\r
+"I saw you riding this morning..." he added.\r
+\r
+"Oh, he's all right, a good horse," answered Rostov, though the horse\r
+for which he had paid seven hundred rubbles was not worth half that sum.\r
+"He's begun to go a little lame on the left foreleg," he added.\r
+\r
+"The hoof's cracked! That's nothing. I'll teach you what to do and show\r
+you what kind of rivet to use."\r
+\r
+"Yes, please do," said Rostov.\r
+\r
+"I'll show you, I'll show you! It's not a secret. And it's a horse\r
+you'll thank me for."\r
+\r
+"Then I'll have it brought round," said Rostov wishing to avoid\r
+Telyanin, and he went out to give the order.\r
+\r
+In the passage Denisov, with a pipe, was squatting on the threshold\r
+facing the quartermaster who was reporting to him. On seeing Rostov,\r
+Denisov screwed up his face and pointing over his shoulder with his\r
+thumb to the room where Telyanin was sitting, he frowned and gave a\r
+shudder of disgust.\r
+\r
+"Ugh! I don't like that fellow," he said, regardless of the\r
+quartermaster's presence.\r
+\r
+Rostov shrugged his shoulders as much as to say: "Nor do I, but what's\r
+one to do?" and, having given his order, he returned to Telyanin.\r
+\r
+Telyanin was sitting in the same indolent pose in which Rostov had left\r
+him, rubbing his small white hands.\r
+\r
+"Well there certainly are disgusting people," thought Rostov as he\r
+entered.\r
+\r
+"Have you told them to bring the horse?" asked Telyanin, getting up and\r
+looking carelessly about him.\r
+\r
+"I have."\r
+\r
+"Let us go ourselves. I only came round to ask Denisov about yesterday's\r
+order. Have you got it, Denisov?"\r
+\r
+"Not yet. But where are you off to?"\r
+\r
+"I want to teach this young man how to shoe a horse," said Telyanin.\r
+\r
+They went through the porch and into the stable. The lieutenant\r
+explained how to rivet the hoof and went away to his own quarters.\r
+\r
+When Rostov went back there was a bottle of vodka and a sausage on the\r
+table. Denisov was sitting there scratching with his pen on a sheet of\r
+paper. He looked gloomily in Rostov's face and said: "I am witing to\r
+her."\r
+\r
+He leaned his elbows on the table with his pen in his hand and,\r
+evidently glad of a chance to say quicker in words what he wanted to\r
+write, told Rostov the contents of his letter.\r
+\r
+"You see, my fwiend," he said, "we sleep when we don't love. We are\r
+childwen of the dust... but one falls in love and one is a God, one is\r
+pua' as on the first day of cweation... Who's that now? Send him to the\r
+devil, I'm busy!" he shouted to Lavrushka, who went up to him not in the\r
+least abashed.\r
+\r
+"Who should it be? You yourself told him to come. It's the quartermaster\r
+for the money."\r
+\r
+Denisov frowned and was about to shout some reply but stopped.\r
+\r
+"Wetched business," he muttered to himself. "How much is left in the\r
+puhse?" he asked, turning to Rostov.\r
+\r
+"Seven new and three old imperials."\r
+\r
+"Oh, it's wetched! Well, what are you standing there for, you sca'cwow?\r
+Call the quahtehmasteh," he shouted to Lavrushka.\r
+\r
+"Please, Denisov, let me lend you some: I have some, you know," said\r
+Rostov, blushing.\r
+\r
+"Don't like bowwowing from my own fellows, I don't," growled Denisov.\r
+\r
+"But if you won't accept money from me like a comrade, you will offend\r
+me. Really I have some," Rostov repeated.\r
+\r
+"No, I tell you."\r
+\r
+And Denisov went to the bed to get the purse from under the pillow.\r
+\r
+"Where have you put it, Wostov?"\r
+\r
+"Under the lower pillow."\r
+\r
+"It's not there."\r
+\r
+Denisov threw both pillows on the floor. The purse was not there.\r
+\r
+"That's a miwacle."\r
+\r
+"Wait, haven't you dropped it?" said Rostov, picking up the pillows one\r
+at a time and shaking them.\r
+\r
+He pulled off the quilt and shook it. The purse was not there.\r
+\r
+"Dear me, can I have forgotten? No, I remember thinking that you kept it\r
+under your head like a treasure," said Rostov. "I put it just here.\r
+Where is it?" he asked, turning to Lavrushka.\r
+\r
+"I haven't been in the room. It must be where you put it."\r
+\r
+"But it isn't?..."\r
+\r
+"You're always like that; you thwow a thing down anywhere and forget it.\r
+Feel in your pockets."\r
+\r
+"No, if I hadn't thought of it being a treasure," said Rostov, "but I\r
+remember putting it there."\r
+\r
+Lavrushka turned all the bedding over, looked under the bed and under\r
+the table, searched everywhere, and stood still in the middle of the\r
+room. Denisov silently watched Lavrushka's movements, and when the\r
+latter threw up his arms in surprise saying it was nowhere to be found\r
+Denisov glanced at Rostov.\r
+\r
+"Wostov, you've not been playing schoolboy twicks..."\r
+\r
+Rostov felt Denisov's gaze fixed on him, raised his eyes, and instantly\r
+dropped them again. All the blood which had seemed congested somewhere\r
+below his throat rushed to his face and eyes. He could not draw breath.\r
+\r
+"And there hasn't been anyone in the room except the lieutenant and\r
+yourselves. It must be here somewhere," said Lavrushka.\r
+\r
+"Now then, you devil's puppet, look alive and hunt for it!" shouted\r
+Denisov, suddenly, turning purple and rushing at the man with a\r
+threatening gesture. "If the purse isn't found I'll flog you, I'll flog\r
+you all."\r
+\r
+Rostov, his eyes avoiding Denisov, began buttoning his coat, buckled on\r
+his saber, and put on his cap.\r
+\r
+"I must have that purse, I tell you," shouted Denisov, shaking his\r
+orderly by the shoulders and knocking him against the wall.\r
+\r
+"Denisov, let him alone, I know who has taken it," said Rostov, going\r
+toward the door without raising his eyes. Denisov paused, thought a\r
+moment, and, evidently understanding what Rostov hinted at, seized his\r
+arm.\r
+\r
+"Nonsense!" he cried, and the veins on his forehead and neck stood out\r
+like cords. "You are mad, I tell you. I won't allow it. The purse is\r
+here! I'll flay this scoundwel alive, and it will be found."\r
+\r
+"I know who has taken it," repeated Rostov in an unsteady voice, and\r
+went to the door.\r
+\r
+"And I tell you, don't you dahe to do it!" shouted Denisov, rushing at\r
+the cadet to restrain him.\r
+\r
+But Rostov pulled away his arm and, with as much anger as though Denisov\r
+were his worst enemy, firmly fixed his eyes directly on his face.\r
+\r
+"Do you understand what you're saying?" he said in a trembling voice.\r
+"There was no one else in the room except myself. So that if it is not\r
+so, then..."\r
+\r
+He could not finish, and ran out of the room.\r
+\r
+"Ah, may the devil take you and evewybody," were the last words Rostov\r
+heard.\r
+\r
+Rostov went to Telyanin's quarters.\r
+\r
+"The master is not in, he's gone to headquarters," said Telyanin's\r
+orderly. "Has something happened?" he added, surprised at the cadet's\r
+troubled face.\r
+\r
+"No, nothing."\r
+\r
+"You've only just missed him," said the orderly.\r
+\r
+The headquarters were situated two miles away from Salzeneck, and\r
+Rostov, without returning home, took a horse and rode there. There was\r
+an inn in the village which the officers frequented. Rostov rode up to\r
+it and saw Telyanin's horse at the porch.\r
+\r
+In the second room of the inn the lieutenant was sitting over a dish of\r
+sausages and a bottle of wine.\r
+\r
+"Ah, you've come here too, young man!" he said, smiling and raising his\r
+eyebrows.\r
+\r
+"Yes," said Rostov as if it cost him a great deal to utter the word; and\r
+he sat down at the nearest table.\r
+\r
+Both were silent. There were two Germans and a Russian officer in the\r
+room. No one spoke and the only sounds heard were the clatter of knives\r
+and the munching of the lieutenant.\r
+\r
+When Telyanin had finished his lunch he took out of his pocket a double\r
+purse and, drawing its rings aside with his small, white, turned-up\r
+fingers, drew out a gold imperial, and lifting his eyebrows gave it to\r
+the waiter.\r
+\r
+"Please be quick," he said.\r
+\r
+The coin was a new one. Rostov rose and went up to Telyanin.\r
+\r
+"Allow me to look at your purse," he said in a low, almost inaudible,\r
+voice.\r
+\r
+With shifting eyes but eyebrows still raised, Telyanin handed him the\r
+purse.\r
+\r
+"Yes, it's a nice purse. Yes, yes," he said, growing suddenly pale, and\r
+added, "Look at it, young man."\r
+\r
+Rostov took the purse in his hand, examined it and the money in it, and\r
+looked at Telyanin. The lieutenant was looking about in his usual way\r
+and suddenly seemed to grow very merry.\r
+\r
+"If we get to Vienna I'll get rid of it there but in these wretched\r
+little towns there's nowhere to spend it," said he. "Well, let me have\r
+it, young man, I'm going."\r
+\r
+Rostov did not speak.\r
+\r
+"And you? Are you going to have lunch too? They feed you quite decently\r
+here," continued Telyanin. "Now then, let me have it."\r
+\r
+He stretched out his hand to take hold of the purse. Rostov let go of\r
+it. Telyanin took the purse and began carelessly slipping it into the\r
+pocket of his riding breeches, with his eyebrows lifted and his mouth\r
+slightly open, as if to say, "Yes, yes, I am putting my purse in my\r
+pocket and that's quite simple and is no one else's business."\r
+\r
+"Well, young man?" he said with a sigh, and from under his lifted brows\r
+he glanced into Rostov's eyes.\r
+\r
+Some flash as of an electric spark shot from Telyanin's eyes to Rostov's\r
+and back, and back again and again in an instant.\r
+\r
+"Come here," said Rostov, catching hold of Telyanin's arm and almost\r
+dragging him to the window. "That money is Denisov's; you took it..." he\r
+whispered just above Telyanin's ear.\r
+\r
+"What? What? How dare you? What?" said Telyanin.\r
+\r
+But these words came like a piteous, despairing cry and an entreaty for\r
+pardon. As soon as Rostov heard them, an enormous load of doubt fell\r
+from him. He was glad, and at the same instant began to pity the\r
+miserable man who stood before him, but the task he had begun had to be\r
+completed.\r
+\r
+"Heaven only knows what the people here may imagine," muttered Telyanin,\r
+taking up his cap and moving toward a small empty room. "We must have an\r
+explanation..."\r
+\r
+"I know it and shall prove it," said Rostov.\r
+\r
+"I..."\r
+\r
+Every muscle of Telyanin's pale, terrified face began to quiver, his\r
+eyes still shifted from side to side but with a downward look not rising\r
+to Rostov's face, and his sobs were audible.\r
+\r
+"Count!... Don't ruin a young fellow... here is this wretched money,\r
+take it..." He threw it on the table. "I have an old father and\r
+mother!..."\r
+\r
+Rostov took the money, avoiding Telyanin's eyes, and went out of the\r
+room without a word. But at the door he stopped and then retraced his\r
+steps. "O God," he said with tears in his eyes, "how could you do it?"\r
+\r
+"Count..." said Telyanin drawing nearer to him.\r
+\r
+"Don't touch me," said Rostov, drawing back. "If you need it, take the\r
+money," and he threw the purse to him and ran out of the inn.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+That same evening there was an animated discussion among the squadron's\r
+officers in Denisov's quarters.\r
+\r
+"And I tell you, Rostov, that you must apologize to the colonel!" said a\r
+tall, grizzly-haired staff captain, with enormous mustaches and many\r
+wrinkles on his large features, to Rostov who was crimson with\r
+excitement.\r
+\r
+The staff captain, Kirsten, had twice been reduced to the ranks for\r
+affairs of honor and had twice regained his commission.\r
+\r
+"I will allow no one to call me a liar!" cried Rostov. "He told me I\r
+lied, and I told him he lied. And there it rests. He may keep me on duty\r
+every day, or may place me under arrest, but no one can make me\r
+apologize, because if he, as commander of this regiment, thinks it\r
+beneath his dignity to give me satisfaction, then..."\r
+\r
+"You just wait a moment, my dear fellow, and listen," interrupted the\r
+staff captain in his deep bass, calmly stroking his long mustache. "You\r
+tell the colonel in the presence of other officers that an officer has\r
+stolen..."\r
+\r
+"I'm not to blame that the conversation began in the presence of other\r
+officers. Perhaps I ought not to have spoken before them, but I am not a\r
+diplomatist. That's why I joined the hussars, thinking that here one\r
+would not need finesse; and he tells me that I am lying--so let him give\r
+me satisfaction..."\r
+\r
+"That's all right. No one thinks you a coward, but that's not the point.\r
+Ask Denisov whether it is not out of the question for a cadet to demand\r
+satisfaction of his regimental commander?"\r
+\r
+Denisov sat gloomily biting his mustache and listening to the\r
+conversation, evidently with no wish to take part in it. He answered the\r
+staff captain's question by a disapproving shake of his head.\r
+\r
+"You speak to the colonel about this nasty business before other\r
+officers," continued the staff captain, "and Bogdanich" (the colonel was\r
+called Bogdanich) "shuts you up."\r
+\r
+"He did not shut me up, he said I was telling an untruth."\r
+\r
+"Well, have it so, and you talked a lot of nonsense to him and must\r
+apologize."\r
+\r
+"Not on any account!" exclaimed Rostov.\r
+\r
+"I did not expect this of you," said the staff captain seriously and\r
+severely. "You don't wish to apologize, but, man, it's not only to him\r
+but to the whole regiment--all of us--you're to blame all round. The\r
+case is this: you ought to have thought the matter over and taken\r
+advice; but no, you go and blurt it all straight out before the\r
+officers. Now what was the colonel to do? Have the officer tried and\r
+disgrace the whole regiment? Disgrace the whole regiment because of one\r
+scoundrel? Is that how you look at it? We don't see it like that. And\r
+Bogdanich was a brick: he told you you were saying what was not true.\r
+It's not pleasant, but what's to be done, my dear fellow? You landed\r
+yourself in it. And now, when one wants to smooth the thing over, some\r
+conceit prevents your apologizing, and you wish to make the whole affair\r
+public. You are offended at being put on duty a bit, but why not\r
+apologize to an old and honorable officer? Whatever Bogdanich may be,\r
+anyway he is an honorable and brave old colonel! You're quick at taking\r
+offense, but you don't mind disgracing the whole regiment!" The staff\r
+captain's voice began to tremble. "You have been in the regiment next to\r
+no time, my lad, you're here today and tomorrow you'll be appointed\r
+adjutant somewhere and can snap your fingers when it is said 'There are\r
+thieves among the Pavlograd officers!' But it's not all the same to us!\r
+Am I not right, Denisov? It's not the same!"\r
+\r
+Denisov remained silent and did not move, but occasionally looked with\r
+his glittering black eyes at Rostov.\r
+\r
+"You value your own pride and don't wish to apologize," continued the\r
+staff captain, "but we old fellows, who have grown up in and, God\r
+willing, are going to die in the regiment, we prize the honor of the\r
+regiment, and Bogdanich knows it. Oh, we do prize it, old fellow! And\r
+all this is not right, it's not right! You may take offense or not but I\r
+always stick to mother truth. It's not right!"\r
+\r
+And the staff captain rose and turned away from Rostov.\r
+\r
+\r
+"That's twue, devil take it!" shouted Denisov, jumping up. "Now then,\r
+Wostov, now then!"\r
+\r
+Rostov, growing red and pale alternately, looked first at one officer\r
+and then at the other.\r
+\r
+"No, gentlemen, no... you mustn't think... I quite understand. You're\r
+wrong to think that of me... I... for me... for the honor of the\r
+regiment I'd... Ah well, I'll show that in action, and for me the honor\r
+of the flag... Well, never mind, it's true I'm to blame, to blame all\r
+round. Well, what else do you want?..."\r
+\r
+"Come, that's right, Count!" cried the staff captain, turning round and\r
+clapping Rostov on the shoulder with his big hand.\r
+\r
+"I tell you," shouted Denisov, "he's a fine fellow."\r
+\r
+"That's better, Count," said the staff captain, beginning to address\r
+Rostov by his title, as if in recognition of his confession. "Go and\r
+apologize, your excellency. Yes, go!"\r
+\r
+"Gentlemen, I'll do anything. No one shall hear a word from me," said\r
+Rostov in an imploring voice, "but I can't apologize, by God I can't, do\r
+what you will! How can I go and apologize like a little boy asking\r
+forgiveness?"\r
+\r
+Denisov began to laugh.\r
+\r
+"It'll be worse for you. Bogdanich is vindictive and you'll pay for your\r
+obstinacy," said Kirsten.\r
+\r
+"No, on my word it's not obstinacy! I can't describe the feeling. I\r
+can't..."\r
+\r
+"Well, it's as you like," said the staff captain. "And what has become\r
+of that scoundrel?" he asked Denisov.\r
+\r
+"He has weported himself sick, he's to be stwuck off the list tomowwow,"\r
+muttered Denisov.\r
+\r
+"It is an illness, there's no other way of explaining it," said the\r
+staff captain.\r
+\r
+"Illness or not, he'd better not cwoss my path. I'd kill him!" shouted\r
+Denisov in a bloodthirsty tone.\r
+\r
+Just then Zherkov entered the room.\r
+\r
+"What brings you here?" cried the officers turning to the newcomer.\r
+\r
+"We're to go into action, gentlemen! Mack has surrendered with his whole\r
+army."\r
+\r
+"It's not true!"\r
+\r
+"I've seen him myself!"\r
+\r
+"What? Saw the real Mack? With hands and feet?"\r
+\r
+"Into action! Into action! Bring him a bottle for such news! But how did\r
+you come here?"\r
+\r
+"I've been sent back to the regiment all on account of that devil, Mack.\r
+An Austrian general complained of me. I congratulated him on Mack's\r
+arrival... What's the matter, Rostov? You look as if you'd just come out\r
+of a hot bath."\r
+\r
+"Oh, my dear fellow, we're in such a stew here these last two days."\r
+\r
+The regimental adjutant came in and confirmed the news brought by\r
+Zherkov. They were under orders to advance next day.\r
+\r
+"We're going into action, gentlemen!"\r
+\r
+"Well, thank God! We've been sitting here too long!"\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+Kutuzov fell back toward Vienna, destroying behind him the bridges over\r
+the rivers Inn (at Braunau) and Traun (near Linz). On October 23 the\r
+Russian troops were crossing the river Enns. At midday the Russian\r
+baggage train, the artillery, and columns of troops were defiling\r
+through the town of Enns on both sides of the bridge.\r
+\r
+It was a warm, rainy, autumnal day. The wide expanse that opened out\r
+before the heights on which the Russian batteries stood guarding the\r
+bridge was at times veiled by a diaphanous curtain of slanting rain, and\r
+then, suddenly spread out in the sunlight, far-distant objects could be\r
+clearly seen glittering as though freshly varnished. Down below, the\r
+little town could be seen with its white, red-roofed houses, its\r
+cathedral, and its bridge, on both sides of which streamed jostling\r
+masses of Russian troops. At the bend of the Danube, vessels, an island,\r
+and a castle with a park surrounded by the waters of the confluence of\r
+the Enns and the Danube became visible, and the rocky left bank of the\r
+Danube covered with pine forests, with a mystic background of green\r
+treetops and bluish gorges. The turrets of a convent stood out beyond a\r
+wild virgin pine forest, and far away on the other side of the Enns the\r
+enemy's horse patrols could be discerned.\r
+\r
+Among the field guns on the brow of the hill the general in command of\r
+the rearguard stood with a staff officer, scanning the country through\r
+his fieldglass. A little behind them Nesvitski, who had been sent to the\r
+rearguard by the commander-in-chief, was sitting on the trail of a gun\r
+carriage. A Cossack who accompanied him had handed him a knapsack and a\r
+flask, and Nesvitski was treating some officers to pies and real\r
+doppelkummel. The officers gladly gathered round him, some on their\r
+knees, some squatting Turkish fashion on the wet grass.\r
+\r
+"Yes, the Austrian prince who built that castle was no fool. It's a fine\r
+place! Why are you not eating anything, gentlemen?" Nesvitski was\r
+saying.\r
+\r
+"Thank you very much, Prince," answered one of the officers, pleased to\r
+be talking to a staff officer of such importance. "It's a lovely place!\r
+We passed close to the park and saw two deer... and what a splendid\r
+house!"\r
+\r
+"Look, Prince," said another, who would have dearly liked to take\r
+another pie but felt shy, and therefore pretended to be examining the\r
+countryside--"See, our infantrymen have already got there. Look there in\r
+the meadow behind the village, three of them are dragging something.\r
+They'll ransack that castle," he remarked with evident approval.\r
+\r
+"So they will," said Nesvitski. "No, but what I should like," added he,\r
+munching a pie in his moist-lipped handsome mouth, "would be to slip in\r
+over there."\r
+\r
+He pointed with a smile to a turreted nunnery, and his eyes narrowed and\r
+gleamed.\r
+\r
+"That would be fine, gentlemen!"\r
+\r
+The officers laughed.\r
+\r
+"Just to flutter the nuns a bit. They say there are Italian girls among\r
+them. On my word I'd give five years of my life for it!"\r
+\r
+"They must be feeling dull, too," said one of the bolder officers,\r
+laughing.\r
+\r
+Meanwhile the staff officer standing in front pointed out something to\r
+the general, who looked through his field glass.\r
+\r
+"Yes, so it is, so it is," said the general angrily, lowering the field\r
+glass and shrugging his shoulders, "so it is! They'll be fired on at the\r
+crossing. And why are they dawdling there?"\r
+\r
+On the opposite side the enemy could be seen by the naked eye, and from\r
+their battery a milk-white cloud arose. Then came the distant report of\r
+a shot, and our troops could be seen hurrying to the crossing.\r
+\r
+Nesvitski rose, puffing, and went up to the general, smiling.\r
+\r
+"Would not your excellency like a little refreshment?" he said.\r
+\r
+"It's a bad business," said the general without answering him, "our men\r
+have been wasting time."\r
+\r
+"Hadn't I better ride over, your excellency?" asked Nesvitski.\r
+\r
+"Yes, please do," answered the general, and he repeated the order that\r
+had already once been given in detail: "and tell the hussars that they\r
+are to cross last and to fire the bridge as I ordered; and the\r
+inflammable material on the bridge must be reinspected."\r
+\r
+"Very good," answered Nesvitski.\r
+\r
+He called the Cossack with his horse, told him to put away the knapsack\r
+and flask, and swung his heavy person easily into the saddle.\r
+\r
+"I'll really call in on the nuns," he said to the officers who watched\r
+him smilingly, and he rode off by the winding path down the hill.\r
+\r
+"Now then, let's see how far it will carry, Captain. Just try!" said the\r
+general, turning to an artillery officer. "Have a little fun to pass the\r
+time."\r
+\r
+"Crew, to your guns!" commanded the officer.\r
+\r
+In a moment the men came running gaily from their campfires and began\r
+loading.\r
+\r
+"One!" came the command.\r
+\r
+Number one jumped briskly aside. The gun rang out with a deafening\r
+metallic roar, and a whistling grenade flew above the heads of our\r
+troops below the hill and fell far short of the enemy, a little smoke\r
+showing the spot where it burst.\r
+\r
+The faces of officers and men brightened up at the sound. Everyone got\r
+up and began watching the movements of our troops below, as plainly\r
+visible as if but a stone's throw away, and the movements of the\r
+approaching enemy farther off. At the same instant the sun came fully\r
+out from behind the clouds, and the clear sound of the solitary shot and\r
+the brilliance of the bright sunshine merged in a single joyous and\r
+spirited impression.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+Two of the enemy's shots had already flown across the bridge, where\r
+there was a crush. Halfway across stood Prince Nesvitski, who had\r
+alighted from his horse and whose big body was jammed against the\r
+railings. He looked back laughing to the Cossack who stood a few steps\r
+behind him holding two horses by their bridles. Each time Prince\r
+Nesvitski tried to move on, soldiers and carts pushed him back again and\r
+pressed him against the railings, and all he could do was to smile.\r
+\r
+"What a fine fellow you are, friend!" said the Cossack to a convoy\r
+soldier with a wagon, who was pressing onto the infantrymen who were\r
+crowded together close to his wheels and his horses. "What a fellow! You\r
+can't wait a moment! Don't you see the general wants to pass?"\r
+\r
+But the convoyman took no notice of the word "general" and shouted at\r
+the soldiers who were blocking his way. "Hi there, boys! Keep to the\r
+left! Wait a bit." But the soldiers, crowded together shoulder to\r
+shoulder, their bayonets interlocking, moved over the bridge in a dense\r
+mass. Looking down over the rails Prince Nesvitski saw the rapid, noisy\r
+little waves of the Enns, which rippling and eddying round the piles of\r
+the bridge chased each other along. Looking on the bridge he saw equally\r
+uniform living waves of soldiers, shoulder straps, covered shakos,\r
+knapsacks, bayonets, long muskets, and, under the shakos, faces with\r
+broad cheekbones, sunken cheeks, and listless tired expressions, and\r
+feet that moved through the sticky mud that covered the planks of the\r
+bridge. Sometimes through the monotonous waves of men, like a fleck of\r
+white foam on the waves of the Enns, an officer, in a cloak and with a\r
+type of face different from that of the men, squeezed his way along;\r
+sometimes like a chip of wood whirling in the river, an hussar on foot,\r
+an orderly, or a townsman was carried through the waves of infantry; and\r
+sometimes like a log floating down the river, an officers' or company's\r
+baggage wagon, piled high, leather covered, and hemmed in on all sides,\r
+moved across the bridge.\r
+\r
+"It's as if a dam had burst," said the Cossack hopelessly. "Are there\r
+many more of you to come?"\r
+\r
+"A million all but one!" replied a waggish soldier in a torn coat, with\r
+a wink, and passed on followed by another, an old man.\r
+\r
+"If he" (he meant the enemy) "begins popping at the bridge now," said\r
+the old soldier dismally to a comrade, "you'll forget to scratch\r
+yourself."\r
+\r
+That soldier passed on, and after him came another sitting on a cart.\r
+\r
+"Where the devil have the leg bands been shoved to?" said an orderly,\r
+running behind the cart and fumbling in the back of it.\r
+\r
+And he also passed on with the wagon. Then came some merry soldiers who\r
+had evidently been drinking.\r
+\r
+"And then, old fellow, he gives him one in the teeth with the butt end\r
+of his gun..." a soldier whose greatcoat was well tucked up said gaily,\r
+with a wide swing of his arm.\r
+\r
+"Yes, the ham was just delicious..." answered another with a loud laugh.\r
+And they, too, passed on, so that Nesvitski did not learn who had been\r
+struck on the teeth, or what the ham had to do with it.\r
+\r
+"Bah! How they scurry. He just sends a ball and they think they'll all\r
+be killed," a sergeant was saying angrily and reproachfully.\r
+\r
+"As it flies past me, Daddy, the ball I mean," said a young soldier with\r
+an enormous mouth, hardly refraining from laughing, "I felt like dying\r
+of fright. I did, 'pon my word, I got that frightened!" said he, as if\r
+bragging of having been frightened.\r
+\r
+That one also passed. Then followed a cart unlike any that had gone\r
+before. It was a German cart with a pair of horses led by a German, and\r
+seemed loaded with a whole houseful of effects. A fine brindled cow with\r
+a large udder was attached to the cart behind. A woman with an unweaned\r
+baby, an old woman, and a healthy German girl with bright red cheeks\r
+were sitting on some feather beds. Evidently these fugitives were\r
+allowed to pass by special permission. The eyes of all the soldiers\r
+turned toward the women, and while the vehicle was passing at foot pace\r
+all the soldiers' remarks related to the two young ones. Every face bore\r
+almost the same smile, expressing unseemly thoughts about the women.\r
+\r
+"Just see, the German sausage is making tracks, too!"\r
+\r
+"Sell me the missis," said another soldier, addressing the German, who,\r
+angry and frightened, strode energetically along with downcast eyes.\r
+\r
+"See how smart she's made herself! Oh, the devils!"\r
+\r
+"There, Fedotov, you should be quartered on them!"\r
+\r
+"I have seen as much before now, mate!"\r
+\r
+"Where are you going?" asked an infantry officer who was eating an\r
+apple, also half smiling as he looked at the handsome girl.\r
+\r
+The German closed his eyes, signifying that he did not understand.\r
+\r
+"Take it if you like," said the officer, giving the girl an apple.\r
+\r
+The girl smiled and took it. Nesvitski like the rest of the men on the\r
+bridge did not take his eyes off the women till they had passed. When\r
+they had gone by, the same stream of soldiers followed, with the same\r
+kind of talk, and at last all stopped. As often happens, the horses of a\r
+convoy wagon became restive at the end of the bridge, and the whole\r
+crowd had to wait.\r
+\r
+"And why are they stopping? There's no proper order!" said the soldiers.\r
+"Where are you shoving to? Devil take you! Can't you wait? It'll be\r
+worse if he fires the bridge. See, here's an officer jammed in too"--\r
+different voices were saying in the crowd, as the men looked at one\r
+another, and all pressed toward the exit from the bridge.\r
+\r
+Looking down at the waters of the Enns under the bridge, Nesvitski\r
+suddenly heard a sound new to him, of something swiftly approaching...\r
+something big, that splashed into the water.\r
+\r
+"Just see where it carries to!" a soldier near by said sternly, looking\r
+round at the sound.\r
+\r
+"Encouraging us to get along quicker," said another uneasily.\r
+\r
+The crowd moved on again. Nesvitski realized that it was a cannon ball.\r
+\r
+"Hey, Cossack, my horse!" he said. "Now, then, you there! get out of the\r
+way! Make way!"\r
+\r
+With great difficulty he managed to get to his horse, and shouting\r
+continually he moved on. The soldiers squeezed themselves to make way\r
+for him, but again pressed on him so that they jammed his leg, and those\r
+nearest him were not to blame for they were themselves pressed still\r
+harder from behind.\r
+\r
+"Nesvitski, Nesvitski! you numskull!" came a hoarse voice from behind\r
+him.\r
+\r
+Nesvitski looked round and saw, some fifteen paces away but separated by\r
+the living mass of moving infantry, Vaska Denisov, red and shaggy, with\r
+his cap on the back of his black head and a cloak hanging jauntily over\r
+his shoulder.\r
+\r
+"Tell these devils, these fiends, to let me pass!" shouted Denisov\r
+evidently in a fit of rage, his coal-black eyes with their bloodshot\r
+whites glittering and rolling as he waved his sheathed saber in a small\r
+bare hand as red as his face.\r
+\r
+"Ah, Vaska!" joyfully replied Nesvitski. "What's up with you?"\r
+\r
+"The squadwon can't pass," shouted Vaska Denisov, showing his white\r
+teeth fiercely and spurring his black thoroughbred Arab, which twitched\r
+its ears as the bayonets touched it, and snorted, spurting white foam\r
+from his bit, tramping the planks of the bridge with his hoofs, and\r
+apparently ready to jump over the railings had his rider let him. "What\r
+is this? They're like sheep! Just like sheep! Out of the way!... Let us\r
+pass!... Stop there, you devil with the cart! I'll hack you with my\r
+saber!" he shouted, actually drawing his saber from its scabbard and\r
+flourishing it.\r
+\r
+The soldiers crowded against one another with terrified faces, and\r
+Denisov joined Nesvitski.\r
+\r
+"How's it you're not drunk today?" said Nesvitski when the other had\r
+ridden up to him.\r
+\r
+"They don't even give one time to dwink!" answered Vaska Denisov. "They\r
+keep dwagging the wegiment to and fwo all day. If they mean to fight,\r
+let's fight. But the devil knows what this is."\r
+\r
+"What a dandy you are today!" said Nesvitski, looking at Denisov's new\r
+cloak and saddlecloth.\r
+\r
+Denisov smiled, took out of his sabretache a handkerchief that diffused\r
+a smell of perfume, and put it to Nesvitski's nose.\r
+\r
+"Of course. I'm going into action! I've shaved, bwushed my teeth, and\r
+scented myself."\r
+\r
+The imposing figure of Nesvitski followed by his Cossack, and the\r
+determination of Denisov who flourished his sword and shouted\r
+frantically, had such an effect that they managed to squeeze through to\r
+the farther side of the bridge and stopped the infantry. Beside the\r
+bridge Nesvitski found the colonel to whom he had to deliver the order,\r
+and having done this he rode back.\r
+\r
+Having cleared the way Denisov stopped at the end of the bridge.\r
+Carelessly holding in his stallion that was neighing and pawing the\r
+ground, eager to rejoin its fellows, he watched his squadron draw\r
+nearer. Then the clang of hoofs, as of several horses galloping,\r
+resounded on the planks of the bridge, and the squadron, officers in\r
+front and men four abreast, spread across the bridge and began to emerge\r
+on his side of it.\r
+\r
+The infantry who had been stopped crowded near the bridge in the\r
+trampled mud and gazed with that particular feeling of ill-will,\r
+estrangement, and ridicule with which troops of different arms usually\r
+encounter one another at the clean, smart hussars who moved past them in\r
+regular order.\r
+\r
+"Smart lads! Only fit for a fair!" said one.\r
+\r
+"What good are they? They're led about just for show!" remarked another.\r
+\r
+"Don't kick up the dust, you infantry!" jested an hussar whose prancing\r
+horse had splashed mud over some foot soldiers.\r
+\r
+"I'd like to put you on a two days' march with a knapsack! Your fine\r
+cords would soon get a bit rubbed," said an infantryman, wiping the mud\r
+off his face with his sleeve. "Perched up there, you're more like a bird\r
+than a man."\r
+\r
+"There now, Zikin, they ought to put you on a horse. You'd look fine,"\r
+said a corporal, chaffing a thin little soldier who bent under the\r
+weight of his knapsack.\r
+\r
+"Take a stick between your legs, that'll suit you for a horse!" the\r
+hussar shouted back.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+The last of the infantry hurriedly crossed the bridge, squeezing\r
+together as they approached it as if passing through a funnel. At last\r
+the baggage wagons had all crossed, the crush was less, and the last\r
+battalion came onto the bridge. Only Denisov's squadron of hussars\r
+remained on the farther side of the bridge facing the enemy, who could\r
+be seen from the hill on the opposite bank but was not yet visible from\r
+the bridge, for the horizon as seen from the valley through which the\r
+river flowed was formed by the rising ground only half a mile away. At\r
+the foot of the hill lay wasteland over which a few groups of our\r
+Cossack scouts were moving. Suddenly on the road at the top of the high\r
+ground, artillery and troops in blue uniform were seen. These were the\r
+French. A group of Cossack scouts retired down the hill at a trot. All\r
+the officers and men of Denisov's squadron, though they tried to talk of\r
+other things and to look in other directions, thought only of what was\r
+there on the hilltop, and kept constantly looking at the patches\r
+appearing on the skyline, which they knew to be the enemy's troops. The\r
+weather had cleared again since noon and the sun was descending brightly\r
+upon the Danube and the dark hills around it. It was calm, and at\r
+intervals the bugle calls and the shouts of the enemy could be heard\r
+from the hill. There was no one now between the squadron and the enemy\r
+except a few scattered skirmishers. An empty space of some seven hundred\r
+yards was all that separated them. The enemy ceased firing, and that\r
+stern, threatening, inaccessible, and intangible line which separates\r
+two hostile armies was all the more clearly felt.\r
+\r
+"One step beyond that boundary line which resembles the line dividing\r
+the living from the dead lies uncertainty, suffering, and death. And\r
+what is there? Who is there?--there beyond that field, that tree, that\r
+roof lit up by the sun? No one knows, but one wants to know. You fear\r
+and yet long to cross that line, and know that sooner or later it must\r
+be crossed and you will have to find out what is there, just as you will\r
+inevitably have to learn what lies the other side of death. But you are\r
+strong, healthy, cheerful, and excited, and are surrounded by other such\r
+excitedly animated and healthy men." So thinks, or at any rate feels,\r
+anyone who comes in sight of the enemy, and that feeling gives a\r
+particular glamour and glad keenness of impression to everything that\r
+takes place at such moments.\r
+\r
+On the high ground where the enemy was, the smoke of a cannon rose, and\r
+a ball flew whistling over the heads of the hussar squadron. The\r
+officers who had been standing together rode off to their places. The\r
+hussars began carefully aligning their horses. Silence fell on the whole\r
+squadron. All were looking at the enemy in front and at the squadron\r
+commander, awaiting the word of command. A second and a third cannon\r
+ball flew past. Evidently they were firing at the hussars, but the balls\r
+with rapid rhythmic whistle flew over the heads of the horsemen and fell\r
+somewhere beyond them. The hussars did not look round, but at the sound\r
+of each shot, as at the word of command, the whole squadron with its\r
+rows of faces so alike yet so different, holding its breath while the\r
+ball flew past, rose in the stirrups and sank back again. The soldiers\r
+without turning their heads glanced at one another, curious to see their\r
+comrades' impression. Every face, from Denisov's to that of the bugler,\r
+showed one common expression of conflict, irritation, and excitement,\r
+around chin and mouth. The quartermaster frowned, looking at the\r
+soldiers as if threatening to punish them. Cadet Mironov ducked every\r
+time a ball flew past. Rostov on the left flank, mounted on his Rook--a\r
+handsome horse despite its game leg--had the happy air of a schoolboy\r
+called up before a large audience for an examination in which he feels\r
+sure he will distinguish himself. He was glancing at everyone with a\r
+clear, bright expression, as if asking them to notice how calmly he sat\r
+under fire. But despite himself, on his face too that same indication of\r
+something new and stern showed round the mouth.\r
+\r
+"Who's that curtseying there? Cadet Miwonov! That's not wight! Look at\r
+me," cried Denisov who, unable to keep still on one spot, kept turning\r
+his horse in front of the squadron.\r
+\r
+The black, hairy, snub-nosed face of Vaska Denisov, and his whole short\r
+sturdy figure with the sinewy hairy hand and stumpy fingers in which he\r
+held the hilt of his naked saber, looked just as it usually did,\r
+especially toward evening when he had emptied his second bottle; he was\r
+only redder than usual. With his shaggy head thrown back like birds when\r
+they drink, pressing his spurs mercilessly into the sides of his good\r
+horse, Bedouin, and sitting as though falling backwards in the saddle,\r
+he galloped to the other flank of the squadron and shouted in a hoarse\r
+voice to the men to look to their pistols. He rode up to Kirsten. The\r
+staff captain on his broad-backed, steady mare came at a walk to meet\r
+him. His face with its long mustache was serious as always, only his\r
+eyes were brighter than usual.\r
+\r
+"Well, what about it?" said he to Denisov. "It won't come to a fight.\r
+You'll see--we shall retire."\r
+\r
+"The devil only knows what they're about!" muttered Denisov. "Ah,\r
+Wostov," he cried noticing the cadet's bright face, "you've got it at\r
+last."\r
+\r
+And he smiled approvingly, evidently pleased with the cadet. Rostov felt\r
+perfectly happy. Just then the commander appeared on the bridge. Denisov\r
+galloped up to him.\r
+\r
+"Your excellency! Let us attack them! I'll dwive them off."\r
+\r
+"Attack indeed!" said the colonel in a bored voice, puckering up his\r
+face as if driving off a troublesome fly. "And why are you stopping\r
+here? Don't you see the skirmishers are retreating? Lead the squadron\r
+back."\r
+\r
+The squadron crossed the bridge and drew out of range of fire without\r
+having lost a single man. The second squadron that had been in the front\r
+line followed them across and the last Cossacks quitted the farther side\r
+of the river.\r
+\r
+The two Pavlograd squadrons, having crossed the bridge, retired up the\r
+hill one after the other. Their colonel, Karl Bogdanich Schubert, came\r
+up to Denisov's squadron and rode at a footpace not far from Rostov,\r
+without taking any notice of him although they were now meeting for the\r
+first time since their encounter concerning Telyanin. Rostov, feeling\r
+that he was at the front and in the power of a man toward whom he now\r
+admitted that he had been to blame, did not lift his eyes from the\r
+colonel's athletic back, his nape covered with light hair, and his red\r
+neck. It seemed to Rostov that Bogdanich was only pretending not to\r
+notice him, and that his whole aim now was to test the cadet's courage,\r
+so he drew himself up and looked around him merrily; then it seemed to\r
+him that Bogdanich rode so near in order to show him his courage. Next\r
+he thought that his enemy would send the squadron on a desperate attack\r
+just to punish him--Rostov. Then he imagined how, after the attack,\r
+Bogdanich would come up to him as he lay wounded and would magnanimously\r
+extend the hand of reconciliation.\r
+\r
+The high-shouldered figure of Zherkov, familiar to the Pavlograds as he\r
+had but recently left their regiment, rode up to the colonel. After his\r
+dismissal from headquarters Zherkov had not remained in the regiment,\r
+saying he was not such a fool as to slave at the front when he could get\r
+more rewards by doing nothing on the staff, and had succeeded in\r
+attaching himself as an orderly officer to Prince Bagration. He now came\r
+to his former chief with an order from the commander of the rear guard.\r
+\r
+"Colonel," he said, addressing Rostov's enemy with an air of gloomy\r
+gravity and glancing round at his comrades, "there is an order to stop\r
+and fire the bridge."\r
+\r
+"An order to who?" asked the colonel morosely.\r
+\r
+"I don't myself know 'to who,'" replied the cornet in a serious tone,\r
+"but the prince told me to 'go and tell the colonel that the hussars\r
+must return quickly and fire the bridge.'"\r
+\r
+Zherkov was followed by an officer of the suite who rode up to the\r
+colonel of hussars with the same order. After him the stout Nesvitski\r
+came galloping up on a Cossack horse that could scarcely carry his\r
+weight.\r
+\r
+"How's this, Colonel?" he shouted as he approached. "I told you to fire\r
+the bridge, and now someone has gone and blundered; they are all beside\r
+themselves over there and one can't make anything out."\r
+\r
+The colonel deliberately stopped the regiment and turned to Nesvitski.\r
+\r
+"You spoke to me of inflammable material," said he, "but you said\r
+nothing about firing it."\r
+\r
+"But, my dear sir," said Nesvitski as he drew up, taking off his cap and\r
+smoothing his hair wet with perspiration with his plump hand, "wasn't I\r
+telling you to fire the bridge, when inflammable material had been put\r
+in position?"\r
+\r
+"I am not your 'dear sir,' Mr. Staff Officer, and you did not tell me to\r
+burn the bridge! I know the service, and it is my habit orders strictly\r
+to obey. You said the bridge would be burned, but who would it burn, I\r
+could not know by the holy spirit!"\r
+\r
+"Ah, that's always the way!" said Nesvitski with a wave of the hand.\r
+"How did you get here?" said he, turning to Zherkov.\r
+\r
+"On the same business. But you are damp! Let me wring you out!"\r
+\r
+"You were saying, Mr. Staff Officer..." continued the colonel in an\r
+offended tone.\r
+\r
+"Colonel," interrupted the officer of the suite, "You must be quick or\r
+the enemy will bring up his guns to use grapeshot."\r
+\r
+The colonel looked silently at the officer of the suite, at the stout\r
+staff officer, and at Zherkov, and he frowned.\r
+\r
+"I will the bridge fire," he said in a solemn tone as if to announce\r
+that in spite of all the unpleasantness he had to endure he would still\r
+do the right thing.\r
+\r
+Striking his horse with his long muscular legs as if it were to blame\r
+for everything, the colonel moved forward and ordered the second\r
+squadron, that in which Rostov was serving under Denisov, to return to\r
+the bridge.\r
+\r
+"There, it's just as I thought," said Rostov to himself. "He wishes to\r
+test me!" His heart contracted and the blood rushed to his face. "Let\r
+him see whether I am a coward!" he thought.\r
+\r
+Again on all the bright faces of the squadron the serious expression\r
+appeared that they had worn when under fire. Rostov watched his enemy,\r
+the colonel, closely--to find in his face confirmation of his own\r
+conjecture, but the colonel did not once glance at Rostov, and looked as\r
+he always did when at the front, solemn and stern. Then came the word of\r
+command.\r
+\r
+"Look sharp! Look sharp!" several voices repeated around him.\r
+\r
+Their sabers catching in the bridles and their spurs jingling, the\r
+hussars hastily dismounted, not knowing what they were to do. The men\r
+were crossing themselves. Rostov no longer looked at the colonel, he had\r
+no time. He was afraid of falling behind the hussars, so much afraid\r
+that his heart stood still. His hand trembled as he gave his horse into\r
+an orderly's charge, and he felt the blood rush to his heart with a\r
+thud. Denisov rode past him, leaning back and shouting something. Rostov\r
+saw nothing but the hussars running all around him, their spurs catching\r
+and their sabers clattering.\r
+\r
+"Stretchers!" shouted someone behind him.\r
+\r
+Rostov did not think what this call for stretchers meant; he ran on,\r
+trying only to be ahead of the others; but just at the bridge, not\r
+looking at the ground, he came on some sticky, trodden mud, stumbled,\r
+and fell on his hands. The others outstripped him.\r
+\r
+"At boss zides, Captain," he heard the voice of the colonel, who, having\r
+ridden ahead, had pulled up his horse near the bridge, with a\r
+triumphant, cheerful face.\r
+\r
+Rostov wiping his muddy hands on his breeches looked at his enemy and\r
+was about to run on, thinking that the farther he went to the front the\r
+better. But Bogdanich, without looking at or recognizing Rostov, shouted\r
+to him:\r
+\r
+"Who's that running on the middle of the bridge? To the right! Come\r
+back, Cadet!" he cried angrily; and turning to Denisov, who, showing off\r
+his courage, had ridden on to the planks of the bridge:\r
+\r
+"Why run risks, Captain? You should dismount," he said.\r
+\r
+"Oh, every bullet has its billet," answered Vaska Denisov, turning in\r
+his saddle.\r
+\r
+Meanwhile Nesvitski, Zherkov, and the officer of the suite were standing\r
+together out of range of the shots, watching, now the small group of men\r
+with yellow shakos, dark-green jackets braided with cord, and blue\r
+riding breeches, who were swarming near the bridge, and then at what was\r
+approaching in the distance from the opposite side--the blue uniforms\r
+and groups with horses, easily recognizable as artillery.\r
+\r
+"Will they burn the bridge or not? Who'll get there first? Will they get\r
+there and fire the bridge or will the French get within grapeshot range\r
+and wipe them out?" These were the questions each man of the troops on\r
+the high ground above the bridge involuntarily asked himself with a\r
+sinking heart--watching the bridge and the hussars in the bright evening\r
+light and the blue tunics advancing from the other side with their\r
+bayonets and guns.\r
+\r
+"Ugh. The hussars will get it hot!" said Nesvitski; "they are within\r
+grapeshot range now."\r
+\r
+"He shouldn't have taken so many men," said the officer of the suite.\r
+\r
+"True enough," answered Nesvitski; "two smart fellows could have done\r
+the job just as well."\r
+\r
+"Ah, your excellency," put in Zherkov, his eyes fixed on the hussars,\r
+but still with that naive air that made it impossible to know whether he\r
+was speaking in jest or in earnest. "Ah, your excellency! How you look\r
+at things! Send two men? And who then would give us the Vladimir medal\r
+and ribbon? But now, even if they do get peppered, the squadron may be\r
+recommended for honors and he may get a ribbon. Our Bogdanich knows how\r
+things are done."\r
+\r
+"There now!" said the officer of the suite, "that's grapeshot."\r
+\r
+He pointed to the French guns, the limbers of which were being detached\r
+and hurriedly removed.\r
+\r
+On the French side, amid the groups with cannon, a cloud of smoke\r
+appeared, then a second and a third almost simultaneously, and at the\r
+moment when the first report was heard a fourth was seen. Then two\r
+reports one after another, and a third.\r
+\r
+"Oh! Oh!" groaned Nesvitski as if in fierce pain, seizing the officer of\r
+the suite by the arm. "Look! A man has fallen! Fallen, fallen!"\r
+\r
+"Two, I think."\r
+\r
+"If I were Tsar I would never go to war," said Nesvitski, turning away.\r
+\r
+The French guns were hastily reloaded. The infantry in their blue\r
+uniforms advanced toward the bridge at a run. Smoke appeared again but\r
+at irregular intervals, and grapeshot cracked and rattled onto the\r
+bridge. But this time Nesvitski could not see what was happening there,\r
+as a dense cloud of smoke arose from it. The hussars had succeeded in\r
+setting it on fire and the French batteries were now firing at them, no\r
+longer to hinder them but because the guns were trained and there was\r
+someone to fire at.\r
+\r
+The French had time to fire three rounds of grapeshot before the hussars\r
+got back to their horses. Two were misdirected and the shot went too\r
+high, but the last round fell in the midst of a group of hussars and\r
+knocked three of them over.\r
+\r
+Rostov, absorbed by his relations with Bogdanich, had paused on the\r
+bridge not knowing what to do. There was no one to hew down (as he had\r
+always imagined battles to himself), nor could he help to fire the\r
+bridge because he had not brought any burning straw with him like the\r
+other soldiers. He stood looking about him, when suddenly he heard a\r
+rattle on the bridge as if nuts were being spilt, and the hussar nearest\r
+to him fell against the rails with a groan. Rostov ran up to him with\r
+the others. Again someone shouted, "Stretchers!" Four men seized the\r
+hussar and began lifting him.\r
+\r
+"Oooh! For Christ's sake let me alone!" cried the wounded man, but still\r
+he was lifted and laid on the stretcher.\r
+\r
+Nicholas Rostov turned away and, as if searching for something, gazed\r
+into the distance, at the waters of the Danube, at the sky, and at the\r
+sun. How beautiful the sky looked; how blue, how calm, and how deep! How\r
+bright and glorious was the setting sun! With what soft glitter the\r
+waters of the distant Danube shone. And fairer still were the faraway\r
+blue mountains beyond the river, the nunnery, the mysterious gorges, and\r
+the pine forests veiled in the mist of their summits... There was peace\r
+and happiness... "I should wish for nothing else, nothing, if only I\r
+were there," thought Rostov. "In myself alone and in that sunshine there\r
+is so much happiness; but here... groans, suffering, fear, and this\r
+uncertainty and hurry... There--they are shouting again, and again are\r
+all running back somewhere, and I shall run with them, and it, death, is\r
+here above me and around... Another instant and I shall never again see\r
+the sun, this water, that gorge!..."\r
+\r
+At that instant the sun began to hide behind the clouds, and other\r
+stretchers came into view before Rostov. And the fear of death and of\r
+the stretchers, and love of the sun and of life, all merged into one\r
+feeling of sickening agitation.\r
+\r
+"O Lord God! Thou who art in that heaven, save, forgive, and protect\r
+me!" Rostov whispered.\r
+\r
+The hussars ran back to the men who held their horses; their voices\r
+sounded louder and calmer, the stretchers disappeared from sight.\r
+\r
+"Well, fwiend? So you've smelt powdah!" shouted Vaska Denisov just above\r
+his ear.\r
+\r
+"It's all over; but I am a coward--yes, a coward!" thought Rostov, and\r
+sighing deeply he took Rook, his horse, which stood resting one foot,\r
+from the orderly and began to mount.\r
+\r
+"Was that grapeshot?" he asked Denisov.\r
+\r
+"Yes and no mistake!" cried Denisov. "You worked like wegular bwicks and\r
+it's nasty work! An attack's pleasant work! Hacking away at the dogs!\r
+But this sort of thing is the very devil, with them shooting at you like\r
+a target."\r
+\r
+And Denisov rode up to a group that had stopped near Rostov, composed of\r
+the colonel, Nesvitski, Zherkov, and the officer from the suite.\r
+\r
+"Well, it seems that no one has noticed," thought Rostov. And this was\r
+true. No one had taken any notice, for everyone knew the sensation which\r
+the cadet under fire for the first time had experienced.\r
+\r
+"Here's something for you to report," said Zherkov. "See if I don't get\r
+promoted to a sublieutenancy."\r
+\r
+"Inform the prince that I the bridge fired!" said the colonel\r
+triumphantly and gaily.\r
+\r
+"And if he asks about the losses?"\r
+\r
+"A trifle," said the colonel in his bass voice: "two hussars wounded,\r
+and one knocked out," he added, unable to restrain a happy smile, and\r
+pronouncing the phrase "knocked out" with ringing distinctness.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+Pursued by the French army of a hundred thousand men under the command\r
+of Bonaparte, encountering a population that was unfriendly to it,\r
+losing confidence in its allies, suffering from shortness of supplies,\r
+and compelled to act under conditions of war unlike anything that had\r
+been foreseen, the Russian army of thirty-five thousand men commanded by\r
+Kutuzov was hurriedly retreating along the Danube, stopping where\r
+overtaken by the enemy and fighting rearguard actions only as far as\r
+necessary to enable it to retreat without losing its heavy equipment.\r
+There had been actions at Lambach, Amstetten, and Melk; but despite the\r
+courage and endurance--acknowledged even by the enemy--with which the\r
+Russians fought, the only consequence of these actions was a yet more\r
+rapid retreat. Austrian troops that had escaped capture at Ulm and had\r
+joined Kutuzov at Braunau now separated from the Russian army, and\r
+Kutuzov was left with only his own weak and exhausted forces. The\r
+defense of Vienna was no longer to be thought of. Instead of an\r
+offensive, the plan of which, carefully prepared in accord with the\r
+modern science of strategics, had been handed to Kutuzov when he was in\r
+Vienna by the Austrian Hofkriegsrath, the sole and almost unattainable\r
+aim remaining for him was to effect a junction with the forces that were\r
+advancing from Russia, without losing his army as Mack had done at Ulm.\r
+\r
+On the twenty-eighth of October Kutuzov with his army crossed to the\r
+left bank of the Danube and took up a position for the first time with\r
+the river between himself and the main body of the French. On the\r
+thirtieth he attacked Mortier's division, which was on the left bank,\r
+and broke it up. In this action for the first time trophies were taken:\r
+banners, cannon, and two enemy generals. For the first time, after a\r
+fortnight's retreat, the Russian troops had halted and after a fight had\r
+not only held the field but had repulsed the French. Though the troops\r
+were ill-clad, exhausted, and had lost a third of their number in\r
+killed, wounded, sick, and stragglers; though a number of sick and\r
+wounded had been abandoned on the other side of the Danube with a letter\r
+in which Kutuzov entrusted them to the humanity of the enemy; and though\r
+the big hospitals and the houses in Krems converted into military\r
+hospitals could no longer accommodate all the sick and wounded, yet the\r
+stand made at Krems and the victory over Mortier raised the spirits of\r
+the army considerably. Throughout the whole army and at headquarters\r
+most joyful though erroneous rumors were rife of the imaginary approach\r
+of columns from Russia, of some victory gained by the Austrians, and of\r
+the retreat of the frightened Bonaparte.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew during the battle had been in attendance on the Austrian\r
+General Schmidt, who was killed in the action. His horse had been\r
+wounded under him and his own arm slightly grazed by a bullet. As a mark\r
+of the commander-in-chief's special favor he was sent with the news of\r
+this victory to the Austrian court, now no longer at Vienna (which was\r
+threatened by the French) but at Brunn. Despite his apparently delicate\r
+build Prince Andrew could endure physical fatigue far better than many\r
+very muscular men, and on the night of the battle, having arrived at\r
+Krems excited but not weary, with dispatches from Dokhturov to Kutuzov,\r
+he was sent immediately with a special dispatch to Brunn. To be so sent\r
+meant not only a reward but an important step toward promotion.\r
+\r
+The night was dark but starry, the road showed black in the snow that\r
+had fallen the previous day--the day of the battle. Reviewing his\r
+impressions of the recent battle, picturing pleasantly to himself the\r
+impression his news of a victory would create, or recalling the send-off\r
+given him by the commander-in-chief and his fellow officers, Prince\r
+Andrew was galloping along in a post chaise enjoying the feelings of a\r
+man who has at length begun to attain a long-desired happiness. As soon\r
+as he closed his eyes his ears seemed filled with the rattle of the\r
+wheels and the sensation of victory. Then he began to imagine that the\r
+Russians were running away and that he himself was killed, but he\r
+quickly roused himself with a feeling of joy, as if learning afresh that\r
+this was not so but that on the contrary the French had run away. He\r
+again recalled all the details of the victory and his own calm courage\r
+during the battle, and feeling reassured he dozed off.... The dark\r
+starry night was followed by a bright cheerful morning. The snow was\r
+thawing in the sunshine, the horses galloped quickly, and on both sides\r
+of the road were forests of different kinds, fields, and villages.\r
+\r
+At one of the post stations he overtook a convoy of Russian wounded. The\r
+Russian officer in charge of the transport lolled back in the front\r
+cart, shouting and scolding a soldier with coarse abuse. In each of the\r
+long German carts six or more pale, dirty, bandaged men were being\r
+jolted over the stony road. Some of them were talking (he heard Russian\r
+words), others were eating bread; the more severely wounded looked\r
+silently, with the languid interest of sick children, at the envoy\r
+hurrying past them.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew told his driver to stop, and asked a soldier in what\r
+action they had been wounded. "Day before yesterday, on the Danube,"\r
+answered the soldier. Prince Andrew took out his purse and gave the\r
+soldier three gold pieces.\r
+\r
+"That's for them all," he said to the officer who came up.\r
+\r
+"Get well soon, lads!" he continued, turning to the soldiers. "There's\r
+plenty to do still."\r
+\r
+"What news, sir?" asked the officer, evidently anxious to start a\r
+conversation.\r
+\r
+"Good news!... Go on!" he shouted to the driver, and they galloped on.\r
+\r
+It was already quite dark when Prince Andrew rattled over the paved\r
+streets of Brunn and found himself surrounded by high buildings, the\r
+lights of shops, houses, and street lamps, fine carriages, and all that\r
+atmosphere of a large and active town which is always so attractive to a\r
+soldier after camp life. Despite his rapid journey and sleepless night,\r
+Prince Andrew when he drove up to the palace felt even more vigorous and\r
+alert than he had done the day before. Only his eyes gleamed feverishly\r
+and his thoughts followed one another with extraordinary clearness and\r
+rapidity. He again vividly recalled the details of the battle, no longer\r
+dim, but definite and in the concise form in which he imagined himself\r
+stating them to the Emperor Francis. He vividly imagined the casual\r
+questions that might be put to him and the answers he would give. He\r
+expected to be at once presented to the Emperor. At the chief entrance\r
+to the palace, however, an official came running out to meet him, and\r
+learning that he was a special messenger led him to another entrance.\r
+\r
+"To the right from the corridor, Euer Hochgeboren! There you will find\r
+the adjutant on duty," said the official. "He will conduct you to the\r
+Minister of War."\r
+\r
+The adjutant on duty, meeting Prince Andrew, asked him to wait, and went\r
+in to the Minister of War. Five minutes later he returned and bowing\r
+with particular courtesy ushered Prince Andrew before him along a\r
+corridor to the cabinet where the Minister of War was at work. The\r
+adjutant by his elaborate courtesy appeared to wish to ward off any\r
+attempt at familiarity on the part of the Russian messenger.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew's joyous feeling was considerably weakened as he\r
+approached the door of the minister's room. He felt offended, and\r
+without his noticing it the feeling of offense immediately turned into\r
+one of disdain which was quite uncalled for. His fertile mind instantly\r
+suggested to him a point of view which gave him a right to despise the\r
+adjutant and the minister. "Away from the smell of powder, they probably\r
+think it easy to gain victories!" he thought. His eyes narrowed\r
+disdainfully, he entered the room of the Minister of War with peculiarly\r
+deliberate steps. This feeling of disdain was heightened when he saw the\r
+minister seated at a large table reading some papers and making pencil\r
+notes on them, and for the first two or three minutes taking no notice\r
+of his arrival. A wax candle stood at each side of the minister's bent\r
+bald head with its gray temples. He went on reading to the end, without\r
+raising his eyes at the opening of the door and the sound of footsteps.\r
+\r
+"Take this and deliver it," said he to his adjutant, handing him the\r
+papers and still taking no notice of the special messenger.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew felt that either the actions of Kutuzov's army interested\r
+the Minister of War less than any of the other matters he was concerned\r
+with, or he wanted to give the Russian special messenger that\r
+impression. "But that is a matter of perfect indifference to me," he\r
+thought. The minister drew the remaining papers together, arranged them\r
+evenly, and then raised his head. He had an intellectual and distinctive\r
+head, but the instant he turned to Prince Andrew the firm, intelligent\r
+expression on his face changed in a way evidently deliberate and\r
+habitual to him. His face took on the stupid artificial smile (which\r
+does not even attempt to hide its artificiality) of a man who is\r
+continually receiving many petitioners one after another.\r
+\r
+"From General Field Marshal Kutuzov?" he asked. "I hope it is good news?\r
+There has been an encounter with Mortier? A victory? It was high time!"\r
+\r
+He took the dispatch which was addressed to him and began to read it\r
+with a mournful expression.\r
+\r
+"Oh, my God! My God! Schmidt!" he exclaimed in German. "What a calamity!\r
+What a calamity!"\r
+\r
+Having glanced through the dispatch he laid it on the table and looked\r
+at Prince Andrew, evidently considering something.\r
+\r
+"Ah what a calamity! You say the affair was decisive? But Mortier is not\r
+captured." Again he pondered. "I am very glad you have brought good\r
+news, though Schmidt's death is a heavy price to pay for the victory.\r
+His Majesty will no doubt wish to see you, but not today. I thank you!\r
+You must have a rest. Be at the levee tomorrow after the parade.\r
+However, I will let you know."\r
+\r
+The stupid smile, which had left his face while he was speaking,\r
+reappeared.\r
+\r
+"Au revoir! Thank you very much. His Majesty will probably desire to see\r
+you," he added, bowing his head.\r
+\r
+When Prince Andrew left the palace he felt that all the interest and\r
+happiness the victory had afforded him had been now left in the\r
+indifferent hands of the Minister of War and the polite adjutant. The\r
+whole tenor of his thoughts instantaneously changed; the battle seemed\r
+the memory of a remote event long past.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew stayed at Brunn with Bilibin, a Russian acquaintance of\r
+his in the diplomatic service.\r
+\r
+"Ah, my dear prince! I could not have a more welcome visitor," said\r
+Bilibin as he came out to meet Prince Andrew. "Franz, put the prince's\r
+things in my bedroom," said he to the servant who was ushering Bolkonski\r
+in. "So you're a messenger of victory, eh? Splendid! And I am sitting\r
+here ill, as you see."\r
+\r
+After washing and dressing, Prince Andrew came into the diplomat's\r
+luxurious study and sat down to the dinner prepared for him. Bilibin\r
+settled down comfortably beside the fire.\r
+\r
+After his journey and the campaign during which he had been deprived of\r
+all the comforts of cleanliness and all the refinements of life, Prince\r
+Andrew felt a pleasant sense of repose among luxurious surroundings such\r
+as he had been accustomed to from childhood. Besides it was pleasant,\r
+after his reception by the Austrians, to speak if not in Russian (for\r
+they were speaking French) at least with a Russian who would, he\r
+supposed, share the general Russian antipathy to the Austrians which was\r
+then particularly strong.\r
+\r
+Bilibin was a man of thirty-five, a bachelor, and of the same circle as\r
+Prince Andrew. They had known each other previously in Petersburg, but\r
+had become more intimate when Prince Andrew was in Vienna with Kutuzov.\r
+Just as Prince Andrew was a young man who gave promise of rising high in\r
+the military profession, so to an even greater extent Bilibin gave\r
+promise of rising in his diplomatic career. He still a young man but no\r
+longer a young diplomat, as he had entered the service at the age of\r
+sixteen, had been in Paris and Copenhagen, and now held a rather\r
+important post in Vienna. Both the foreign minister and our ambassador\r
+in Vienna knew him and valued him. He was not one of those many\r
+diplomats who are esteemed because they have certain negative qualities,\r
+avoid doing certain things, and speak French. He was one of those, who,\r
+liking work, knew how to do it, and despite his indolence would\r
+sometimes spend a whole night at his writing table. He worked well\r
+whatever the import of his work. It was not the question "What for?" but\r
+the question "How?" that interested him. What the diplomatic matter\r
+might be he did not care, but it gave him great pleasure to prepare a\r
+circular, memorandum, or report, skillfully, pointedly, and elegantly.\r
+Bilibin's services were valued not only for what he wrote, but also for\r
+his skill in dealing and conversing with those in the highest spheres.\r
+\r
+Bilibin liked conversation as he liked work, only when it could be made\r
+elegantly witty. In society he always awaited an opportunity to say\r
+something striking and took part in a conversation only when that was\r
+possible. His conversation was always sprinkled with wittily original,\r
+finished phrases of general interest. These sayings were prepared in the\r
+inner laboratory of his mind in a portable form as if intentionally, so\r
+that insignificant society people might carry them from drawing room to\r
+drawing room. And, in fact, Bilibin's witticisms were hawked about in\r
+the Viennese drawing rooms and often had an influence on matters\r
+considered important.\r
+\r
+His thin, worn, sallow face was covered with deep wrinkles, which always\r
+looked as clean and well washed as the tips of one's fingers after a\r
+Russian bath. The movement of these wrinkles formed the principal play\r
+of expression on his face. Now his forehead would pucker into deep folds\r
+and his eyebrows were lifted, then his eyebrows would descend and deep\r
+wrinkles would crease his cheeks. His small, deep-set eyes always\r
+twinkled and looked out straight.\r
+\r
+"Well, now tell me about your exploits," said he.\r
+\r
+Bolkonski, very modestly without once mentioning himself, described the\r
+engagement and his reception by the Minister of War.\r
+\r
+"They received me and my news as one receives a dog in a game of\r
+skittles," said he in conclusion.\r
+\r
+Bilibin smiled and the wrinkles on his face disappeared.\r
+\r
+"Cependant, mon cher," he remarked, examining his nails from a distance\r
+and puckering the skin above his left eye, "malgre la haute estime que\r
+je professe pour the Orthodox Russian army, j'avoue que votre victoire\r
+n'est pas des plus victorieuses." *\r
+\r
+\r
+* "But my dear fellow, with all my respect for the Orthodox Russian\r
+army, I must say that your victory was not particularly victorious."\r
+\r
+He went on talking in this way in French, uttering only those words in\r
+Russian on which he wished to put a contemptuous emphasis.\r
+\r
+"Come now! You with all your forces fall on the unfortunate Mortier and\r
+his one division, and even then Mortier slips through your fingers!\r
+Where's the victory?"\r
+\r
+"But seriously," said Prince Andrew, "we can at any rate say without\r
+boasting that it was a little better than at Ulm..."\r
+\r
+"Why didn't you capture one, just one, marshal for us?"\r
+\r
+"Because not everything happens as one expects or with the smoothness of\r
+a parade. We had expected, as I told you, to get at their rear by seven\r
+in the morning but had not reached it by five in the afternoon."\r
+\r
+"And why didn't you do it at seven in the morning? You ought to have\r
+been there at seven in the morning," returned Bilibin with a smile. "You\r
+ought to have been there at seven in the morning."\r
+\r
+"Why did you not succeed in impressing on Bonaparte by diplomatic\r
+methods that he had better leave Genoa alone?" retorted Prince Andrew in\r
+the same tone.\r
+\r
+"I know," interrupted Bilibin, "you're thinking it's very easy to take\r
+marshals, sitting on a sofa by the fire! That is true, but still why\r
+didn't you capture him? So don't be surprised if not only the Minister\r
+of War but also his Most August Majesty the Emperor and King Francis is\r
+not much delighted by your victory. Even I, a poor secretary of the\r
+Russian Embassy, do not feel any need in token of my joy to give my\r
+Franz a thaler, or let him go with his Liebchen to the Prater... True,\r
+we have no Prater here..."\r
+\r
+He looked straight at Prince Andrew and suddenly unwrinkled his\r
+forehead.\r
+\r
+"It is now my turn to ask you 'why?' mon cher," said Bolkonski. "I\r
+confess I do not understand: perhaps there are diplomatic subtleties\r
+here beyond my feeble intelligence, but I can't make it out. Mack loses\r
+a whole army, the Archduke Ferdinand and the Archduke Karl give no signs\r
+of life and make blunder after blunder. Kutuzov alone at last gains a\r
+real victory, destroying the spell of the invincibility of the French,\r
+and the Minister of War does not even care to hear the details."\r
+\r
+"That's just it, my dear fellow. You see it's hurrah for the Tsar, for\r
+Russia, for the Orthodox Greek faith! All that is beautiful, but what do\r
+we, I mean the Austrian court, care for your victories? Bring us nice\r
+news of a victory by the Archduke Karl or Ferdinand (one archduke's as\r
+good as another, as you know) and even if it is only over a fire brigade\r
+of Bonaparte's, that will be another story and we'll fire off some\r
+cannon! But this sort of thing seems done on purpose to vex us. The\r
+Archduke Karl does nothing, the Archduke Ferdinand disgraces himself.\r
+You abandon Vienna, give up its defense--as much as to say: 'Heaven is\r
+with us, but heaven help you and your capital!' The one general whom we\r
+all loved, Schmidt, you expose to a bullet, and then you congratulate us\r
+on the victory! Admit that more irritating news than yours could not\r
+have been conceived. It's as if it had been done on purpose, on purpose.\r
+Besides, suppose you did gain a brilliant victory, if even the Archduke\r
+Karl gained a victory, what effect would that have on the general course\r
+of events? It's too late now when Vienna is occupied by the French\r
+army!"\r
+\r
+"What? Occupied? Vienna occupied?"\r
+\r
+"Not only occupied, but Bonaparte is at Schonbrunn, and the count, our\r
+dear Count Vrbna, goes to him for orders."\r
+\r
+After the fatigues and impressions of the journey, his reception, and\r
+especially after having dined, Bolkonski felt that he could not take in\r
+the full significance of the words he heard.\r
+\r
+"Count Lichtenfels was here this morning," Bilibin continued, "and\r
+showed me a letter in which the parade of the French in Vienna was fully\r
+described: Prince Murat et tout le tremblement... You see that your\r
+victory is not a matter for great rejoicing and that you can't be\r
+received as a savior."\r
+\r
+"Really I don't care about that, I don't care at all," said Prince\r
+Andrew, beginning to understand that his news of the battle before Krems\r
+was really of small importance in view of such events as the fall of\r
+Austria's capital. "How is it Vienna was taken? What of the bridge and\r
+its celebrated bridgehead and Prince Auersperg? We heard reports that\r
+Prince Auersperg was defending Vienna?" he said.\r
+\r
+"Prince Auersperg is on this, on our side of the river, and is defending\r
+us--doing it very badly, I think, but still he is defending us. But\r
+Vienna is on the other side. No, the bridge has not yet been taken and I\r
+hope it will not be, for it is mined and orders have been given to blow\r
+it up. Otherwise we should long ago have been in the mountains of\r
+Bohemia, and you and your army would have spent a bad quarter of an hour\r
+between two fires."\r
+\r
+"But still this does not mean that the campaign is over," said Prince\r
+Andrew.\r
+\r
+"Well, I think it is. The bigwigs here think so too, but they daren't\r
+say so. It will be as I said at the beginning of the campaign, it won't\r
+be your skirmishing at Durrenstein, or gunpowder at all, that will\r
+decide the matter, but those who devised it," said Bilibin quoting one\r
+of his own mots, releasing the wrinkles on his forehead, and pausing.\r
+"The only question is what will come of the meeting between the Emperor\r
+Alexander and the King of Prussia in Berlin? If Prussia joins the\r
+Allies, Austria's hand will be forced and there will be war. If not it\r
+is merely a question of settling where the preliminaries of the new\r
+Campo Formio are to be drawn up."\r
+\r
+"What an extraordinary genius!" Prince Andrew suddenly exclaimed,\r
+clenching his small hand and striking the table with it, "and what luck\r
+the man has!"\r
+\r
+"Buonaparte?" said Bilibin inquiringly, puckering up his forehead to\r
+indicate that he was about to say something witty. "Buonaparte?" he\r
+repeated, accentuating the u: "I think, however, now that he lays down\r
+laws for Austria at Schonbrunn, il faut lui faire grace de l'u! * I\r
+shall certainly adopt an innovation and call him simply Bonaparte!"\r
+\r
+\r
+* "We must let him off the u!"\r
+\r
+"But joking apart," said Prince Andrew, "do you really think the\r
+campaign is over?"\r
+\r
+"This is what I think. Austria has been made a fool of, and she is not\r
+used to it. She will retaliate. And she has been fooled in the first\r
+place because her provinces have been pillaged--they say the Holy\r
+Russian army loots terribly--her army is destroyed, her capital taken,\r
+and all this for the beaux yeux * of His Sardinian Majesty. And\r
+therefore--this is between ourselves--I instinctively feel that we are\r
+being deceived, my instinct tells me of negotiations with France and\r
+projects for peace, a secret peace concluded separately."\r
+\r
+\r
+* Fine eyes.\r
+\r
+"Impossible!" cried Prince Andrew. "That would be too base."\r
+\r
+"If we live we shall see," replied Bilibin, his face again becoming\r
+smooth as a sign that the conversation was at an end.\r
+\r
+When Prince Andrew reached the room prepared for him and lay down in a\r
+clean shirt on the feather bed with its warmed and fragrant pillows, he\r
+felt that the battle of which he had brought tidings was far, far away\r
+from him. The alliance with Prussia, Austria's treachery, Bonaparte's\r
+new triumph, tomorrow's levee and parade, and the audience with the\r
+Emperor Francis occupied his thoughts.\r
+\r
+He closed his eyes, and immediately a sound of cannonading, of musketry\r
+and the rattling of carriage wheels seemed to fill his ears, and now\r
+again drawn out in a thin line the musketeers were descending the hill,\r
+the French were firing, and he felt his heart palpitating as he rode\r
+forward beside Schmidt with the bullets merrily whistling all around,\r
+and he experienced tenfold the joy of living, as he had not done since\r
+childhood.\r
+\r
+He woke up...\r
+\r
+"Yes, that all happened!" he said, and, smiling happily to himself like\r
+a child, he fell into a deep, youthful slumber.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+Next day he woke late. Recalling his recent impressions, the first\r
+thought that came into his mind was that today he had to be presented to\r
+the Emperor Francis; he remembered the Minister of War, the polite\r
+Austrian adjutant, Bilibin, and last night's conversation. Having\r
+dressed for his attendance at court in full parade uniform, which he had\r
+not worn for a long time, he went into Bilibin's study fresh, animated,\r
+and handsome, with his hand bandaged. In the study were four gentlemen\r
+of the diplomatic corps. With Prince Hippolyte Kuragin, who was a\r
+secretary to the embassy, Bolkonski was already acquainted. Bilibin\r
+introduced him to the others.\r
+\r
+The gentlemen assembled at Bilibin's were young, wealthy, gay society\r
+men, who here, as in Vienna, formed a special set which Bilibin, their\r
+leader, called les notres. * This set, consisting almost exclusively of\r
+diplomats, evidently had its own interests which had nothing to do with\r
+war or politics but related to high society, to certain women, and to\r
+the official side of the service. These gentlemen received Prince Andrew\r
+as one of themselves, an honor they did not extend to many. From\r
+politeness and to start conversation, they asked him a few questions\r
+about the army and the battle, and then the talk went off into merry\r
+jests and gossip.\r
+\r
+\r
+* Ours.\r
+\r
+"But the best of it was," said one, telling of the misfortune of a\r
+fellow diplomat, "that the Chancellor told him flatly that his\r
+appointment to London was a promotion and that he was so to regard it.\r
+Can you fancy the figure he cut?..."\r
+\r
+"But the worst of it, gentlemen--I am giving Kuragin away to you--is\r
+that that man suffers, and this Don Juan, wicked fellow, is taking\r
+advantage of it!"\r
+\r
+Prince Hippolyte was lolling in a lounge chair with his legs over its\r
+arm. He began to laugh.\r
+\r
+"Tell me about that!" he said.\r
+\r
+"Oh, you Don Juan! You serpent!" cried several voices.\r
+\r
+"You, Bolkonski, don't know," said Bilibin turning to Prince Andrew,\r
+"that all the atrocities of the French army (I nearly said of the\r
+Russian army) are nothing compared to what this man has been doing among\r
+the women!"\r
+\r
+"La femme est la compagne de l'homme," * announced Prince Hippolyte, and\r
+began looking through a lorgnette at his elevated legs.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Woman is man's companion."\r
+\r
+Bilibin and the rest of "ours" burst out laughing in Hippolyte's face,\r
+and Prince Andrew saw that Hippolyte, of whom--he had to admit--he had\r
+almost been jealous on his wife's account, was the butt of this set.\r
+\r
+"Oh, I must give you a treat," Bilibin whispered to Bolkonski. "Kuragin\r
+is exquisite when he discusses politics--you should see his gravity!"\r
+\r
+He sat down beside Hippolyte and wrinkling his forehead began talking to\r
+him about politics. Prince Andrew and the others gathered round these\r
+two.\r
+\r
+"The Berlin cabinet cannot express a feeling of alliance," began\r
+Hippolyte gazing round with importance at the others, "without\r
+expressing... as in its last note... you understand... Besides, unless\r
+His Majesty the Emperor derogates from the principle of our alliance...\r
+\r
+"Wait, I have not finished..." he said to Prince Andrew, seizing him by\r
+the arm, "I believe that intervention will be stronger than\r
+nonintervention. And..." he paused. "Finally one cannot impute the\r
+nonreceipt of our dispatch of November 18. That is how it will end." And\r
+he released Bolkonski's arm to indicate that he had now quite finished.\r
+\r
+"Demosthenes, I know thee by the pebble thou secretest in thy golden\r
+mouth!" said Bilibin, and the mop of hair on his head moved with\r
+satisfaction.\r
+\r
+Everybody laughed, and Hippolyte louder than anyone. He was evidently\r
+distressed, and breathed painfully, but could not restrain the wild\r
+laughter that convulsed his usually impassive features.\r
+\r
+"Well now, gentlemen," said Bilibin, "Bolkonski is my guest in this\r
+house and in Brunn itself. I want to entertain him as far as I can, with\r
+all the pleasures of life here. If we were in Vienna it would be easy,\r
+but here, in this wretched Moravian hole, it is more difficult, and I\r
+beg you all to help me. Brunn's attractions must be shown him. You can\r
+undertake the theater, I society, and you, Hippolyte, of course the\r
+women."\r
+\r
+"We must let him see Amelie, she's exquisite!" said one of "ours,"\r
+kissing his finger tips.\r
+\r
+"In general we must turn this bloodthirsty soldier to more humane\r
+interests," said Bilibin.\r
+\r
+"I shall scarcely be able to avail myself of your hospitality,\r
+gentlemen, it is already time for me to go," replied Prince Andrew\r
+looking at his watch.\r
+\r
+"Where to?"\r
+\r
+"To the Emperor."\r
+\r
+"Oh! Oh! Oh! Well, au revoir, Bolkonski! Au revoir, Prince! Come back\r
+early to dinner," cried several voices. "We'll take you in hand."\r
+\r
+"When speaking to the Emperor, try as far as you can to praise the way\r
+that provisions are supplied and the routes indicated," said Bilibin,\r
+accompanying him to the hall.\r
+\r
+"I should like to speak well of them, but as far as I know the facts, I\r
+can't," replied Bolkonski, smiling.\r
+\r
+"Well, talk as much as you can, anyway. He has a passion for giving\r
+audiences, but he does not like talking himself and can't do it, as you\r
+will see."\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+At the levee Prince Andrew stood among the Austrian officers as he had\r
+been told to, and the Emperor Francis merely looked fixedly into his\r
+face and just nodded to him with his long head. But after it was over,\r
+the adjutant he had seen the previous day ceremoniously informed\r
+Bolkonski that the Emperor desired to give him an audience. The Emperor\r
+Francis received him standing in the middle of the room. Before the\r
+conversation began Prince Andrew was struck by the fact that the Emperor\r
+seemed confused and blushed as if not knowing what to say.\r
+\r
+"Tell me, when did the battle begin?" he asked hurriedly.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew replied. Then followed other questions just as simple:\r
+"Was Kutuzov well? When had he left Krems?" and so on. The Emperor spoke\r
+as if his sole aim were to put a given number of questions--the answers\r
+to these questions, as was only too evident, did not interest him.\r
+\r
+"At what o'clock did the battle begin?" asked the Emperor.\r
+\r
+"I cannot inform Your Majesty at what o'clock the battle began at the\r
+front, but at Durrenstein, where I was, our attack began after five in\r
+the afternoon," replied Bolkonski growing more animated and expecting\r
+that he would have a chance to give a reliable account, which he had\r
+ready in his mind, of all he knew and had seen. But the Emperor smiled\r
+and interrupted him.\r
+\r
+"How many miles?"\r
+\r
+"From where to where, Your Majesty?"\r
+\r
+"From Durrenstein to Krems."\r
+\r
+"Three and a half miles, Your Majesty."\r
+\r
+"The French have abandoned the left bank?"\r
+\r
+"According to the scouts the last of them crossed on rafts during the\r
+night."\r
+\r
+"Is there sufficient forage in Krems?"\r
+\r
+"Forage has not been supplied to the extent..."\r
+\r
+The Emperor interrupted him.\r
+\r
+"At what o'clock was General Schmidt killed?"\r
+\r
+"At seven o'clock, I believe."\r
+\r
+"At seven o'clock? It's very sad, very sad!"\r
+\r
+The Emperor thanked Prince Andrew and bowed. Prince Andrew withdrew and\r
+was immediately surrounded by courtiers on all sides. Everywhere he saw\r
+friendly looks and heard friendly words. Yesterday's adjutant reproached\r
+him for not having stayed at the palace, and offered him his own house.\r
+The Minister of War came up and congratulated him on the Maria Theresa\r
+Order of the third grade, which the Emperor was conferring on him. The\r
+Empress' chamberlain invited him to see Her Majesty. The archduchess\r
+also wished to see him. He did not know whom to answer, and for a few\r
+seconds collected his thoughts. Then the Russian ambassador took him by\r
+the shoulder, led him to the window, and began to talk to him.\r
+\r
+Contrary to Bilibin's forecast the news he had brought was joyfully\r
+received. A thanksgiving service was arranged, Kutuzov was awarded the\r
+Grand Cross of Maria Theresa, and the whole army received rewards.\r
+Bolkonski was invited everywhere, and had to spend the whole morning\r
+calling on the principal Austrian dignitaries. Between four and five in\r
+the afternoon, having made all his calls, he was returning to Bilibin's\r
+house thinking out a letter to his father about the battle and his visit\r
+to Brunn. At the door he found a vehicle half full of luggage. Franz,\r
+Bilibin's man, was dragging a portmanteau with some difficulty out of\r
+the front door.\r
+\r
+Before returning to Bilibin's Prince Andrew had gone to a bookshop to\r
+provide himself with some books for the campaign, and had spent some\r
+time in the shop.\r
+\r
+"What is it?" he asked.\r
+\r
+"Oh, your excellency!" said Franz, with difficulty rolling the\r
+portmanteau into the vehicle, "we are to move on still farther. The\r
+scoundrel is again at our heels!"\r
+\r
+"Eh? What?" asked Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+Bilibin came out to meet him. His usually calm face showed excitement.\r
+\r
+"There now! Confess that this is delightful," said he. "This affair of\r
+the Thabor Bridge, at Vienna.... They have crossed without striking a\r
+blow!"\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew could not understand.\r
+\r
+"But where do you come from not to know what every coachman in the town\r
+knows?"\r
+\r
+"I come from the archduchess'. I heard nothing there."\r
+\r
+"And you didn't see that everybody is packing up?"\r
+\r
+"I did not... What is it all about?" inquired Prince Andrew impatiently.\r
+\r
+"What's it all about? Why, the French have crossed the bridge that\r
+Auersperg was defending, and the bridge was not blown up: so Murat is\r
+now rushing along the road to Brunn and will be here in a day or two."\r
+\r
+"What? Here? But why did they not blow up the bridge, if it was mined?"\r
+\r
+"That is what I ask you. No one, not even Bonaparte, knows why."\r
+\r
+Bolkonski shrugged his shoulders.\r
+\r
+"But if the bridge is crossed it means that the army too is lost? It\r
+will be cut off," said he.\r
+\r
+"That's just it," answered Bilibin. "Listen! The French entered Vienna\r
+as I told you. Very well. Next day, which was yesterday, those\r
+gentlemen, messieurs les marechaux, * Murat, Lannes, and Belliard, mount\r
+and ride to the bridge. (Observe that all three are Gascons.)\r
+'Gentlemen,' says one of them, 'you know the Thabor Bridge is mined and\r
+doubly mined and that there are menacing fortifications at its head and\r
+an army of fifteen thousand men has been ordered to blow up the bridge\r
+and not let us cross? But it will please our sovereign the Emperor\r
+Napoleon if we take this bridge, so let us three go and take it!' 'Yes,\r
+let's!' say the others. And off they go and take the bridge, cross it,\r
+and now with their whole army are on this side of the Danube, marching\r
+on us, you, and your lines of communication."\r
+\r
+\r
+* The marshalls.\r
+\r
+"Stop jesting," said Prince Andrew sadly and seriously. This news\r
+grieved him and yet he was pleased.\r
+\r
+As soon as he learned that the Russian army was in such a hopeless\r
+situation it occurred to him that it was he who was destined to lead it\r
+out of this position; that here was the Toulon that would lift him from\r
+the ranks of obscure officers and offer him the first step to fame!\r
+Listening to Bilibin he was already imagining how on reaching the army\r
+he would give an opinion at the war council which would be the only one\r
+that could save the army, and how he alone would be entrusted with the\r
+executing of the plan.\r
+\r
+"Stop this jesting," he said\r
+\r
+"I am not jesting," Bilibin went on. "Nothing is truer or sadder. These\r
+gentlemen ride onto the bridge alone and wave white handkerchiefs; they\r
+assure the officer on duty that they, the marshals, are on their way to\r
+negotiate with Prince Auersperg. He lets them enter the tête-de-pont. *\r
+They spin him a thousand gasconades, saying that the war is over, that\r
+the Emperor Francis is arranging a meeting with Bonaparte, that they\r
+desire to see Prince Auersperg, and so on. The officer sends for\r
+Auersperg; these gentlemen embrace the officers, crack jokes, sit on the\r
+cannon, and meanwhile a French battalion gets to the bridge unobserved,\r
+flings the bags of incendiary material into the water, and approaches\r
+the tête-de-pont. At length appears the lieutenant general, our dear\r
+Prince Auersperg von Mautern himself. 'Dearest foe! Flower of the\r
+Austrian army, hero of the Turkish wars Hostilities are ended, we can\r
+shake one another's hand.... The Emperor Napoleon burns with impatience\r
+to make Prince Auersperg's acquaintance.' In a word, those gentlemen,\r
+Gascons indeed, so bewildered him with fine words, and he is so\r
+flattered by his rapidly established intimacy with the French marshals,\r
+and so dazzled by the sight of Murat's mantle and ostrich plumes, qu'il\r
+n'y voit que du feu, et oublie celui qu'il devait faire faire sur\r
+l'ennemi!" *(2) In spite of the animation of his speech, Bilibin did not\r
+forget to pause after this mot to give time for its due appreciation.\r
+"The French battalion rushes to the bridgehead, spikes the guns, and the\r
+bridge is taken! But what is best of all," he went on, his excitement\r
+subsiding under the delightful interest of his own story, "is that the\r
+sergeant in charge of the cannon which was to give the signal to fire\r
+the mines and blow up the bridge, this sergeant, seeing that the French\r
+troops were running onto the bridge, was about to fire, but Lannes\r
+stayed his hand. The sergeant, who was evidently wiser than his general,\r
+goes up to Auersperg and says: 'Prince, you are being deceived, here are\r
+the French!' Murat, seeing that all is lost if the sergeant is allowed\r
+to speak, turns to Auersperg with feigned astonishment (he is a true\r
+Gascon) and says: 'I don't recognize the world-famous Austrian\r
+discipline, if you allow a subordinate to address you like that!' It was\r
+a stroke of genius. Prince Auersperg feels his dignity at stake and\r
+orders the sergeant to be arrested. Come, you must own that this affair\r
+of the Thabor Bridge is delightful! It is not exactly stupidity, nor\r
+rascality...."\r
+\r
+\r
+* Bridgehead.\r
+\r
+* (2) That their fire gets into his eyes and he forgets that he ought to\r
+be firing at the enemy.\r
+\r
+"It may be treachery," said Prince Andrew, vividly imagining the gray\r
+overcoats, wounds, the smoke of gunpowder, the sounds of firing, and the\r
+glory that awaited him.\r
+\r
+"Not that either. That puts the court in too bad a light," replied\r
+Bilibin. "It's not treachery nor rascality nor stupidity: it is just as\r
+at Ulm... it is..."--he seemed to be trying to find the right\r
+expression. "C'est... c'est du Mack. Nous sommes mackes (It is... it is\r
+a bit of Mack. We are Macked)," he concluded, feeling that he had\r
+produced a good epigram, a fresh one that would be repeated. His\r
+hitherto puckered brow became smooth as a sign of pleasure, and with a\r
+slight smile he began to examine his nails.\r
+\r
+"Where are you off to?" he said suddenly to Prince Andrew who had risen\r
+and was going toward his room.\r
+\r
+"I am going away."\r
+\r
+"Where to?"\r
+\r
+"To the army."\r
+\r
+"But you meant to stay another two days?"\r
+\r
+"But now I am off at once."\r
+\r
+And Prince Andrew after giving directions about his departure went to\r
+his room.\r
+\r
+"Do you know, mon cher," said Bilibin following him, "I have been\r
+thinking about you. Why are you going?"\r
+\r
+And in proof of the conclusiveness of his opinion all the wrinkles\r
+vanished from his face.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew looked inquiringly at him and gave no reply.\r
+\r
+"Why are you going? I know you think it your duty to gallop back to the\r
+army now that it is in danger. I understand that. Mon cher, it is\r
+heroism!"\r
+\r
+"Not at all," said Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+"But as you are a philosopher, be a consistent one, look at the other\r
+side of the question and you will see that your duty, on the contrary,\r
+is to take care of yourself. Leave it to those who are no longer fit for\r
+anything else.... You have not been ordered to return and have not been\r
+dismissed from here; therefore, you can stay and go with us wherever our\r
+ill luck takes us. They say we are going to Olmutz, and Olmutz is a very\r
+decent town. You and I will travel comfortably in my caleche."\r
+\r
+"Do stop joking, Bilibin," cried Bolkonski.\r
+\r
+"I am speaking sincerely as a friend! Consider! Where and why are you\r
+going, when you might remain here? You are faced by one of two things,"\r
+and the skin over his left temple puckered, "either you will not reach\r
+your regiment before peace is concluded, or you will share defeat and\r
+disgrace with Kutuzov's whole army."\r
+\r
+And Bilibin unwrinkled his temple, feeling that the dilemma was\r
+insoluble.\r
+\r
+"I cannot argue about it," replied Prince Andrew coldly, but he thought:\r
+"I am going to save the army."\r
+\r
+"My dear fellow, you are a hero!" said Bilibin.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIII\r
+\r
+That same night, having taken leave of the Minister of War, Bolkonski\r
+set off to rejoin the army, not knowing where he would find it and\r
+fearing to be captured by the French on the way to Krems.\r
+\r
+In Brunn everybody attached to the court was packing up, and the heavy\r
+baggage was already being dispatched to Olmutz. Near Hetzelsdorf Prince\r
+Andrew struck the high road along which the Russian army was moving with\r
+great haste and in the greatest disorder. The road was so obstructed\r
+with carts that it was impossible to get by in a carriage. Prince Andrew\r
+took a horse and a Cossack from a Cossack commander, and hungry and\r
+weary, making his way past the baggage wagons, rode in search of the\r
+commander-in-chief and of his own luggage. Very sinister reports of the\r
+position of the army reached him as he went along, and the appearance of\r
+the troops in their disorderly flight confirmed these rumors.\r
+\r
+"Cette armee russe que l'or de l'Angleterre a transportee des extremites\r
+de l'univers, nous allons lui faire eprouver le meme sort--(le sort de\r
+l'armee d'Ulm)." * He remembered these words in Bonaparte's address to\r
+his army at the beginning of the campaign, and they awoke in him\r
+astonishment at the genius of his hero, a feeling of wounded pride, and\r
+a hope of glory. "And should there be nothing left but to die?" he\r
+thought. "Well, if need be, I shall do it no worse than others."\r
+\r
+\r
+* "That Russian army which has been brought from the ends of the earth\r
+by English gold, we shall cause to share the same fate--(the fate of the\r
+army at Ulm)."\r
+\r
+He looked with disdain at the endless confused mass of detachments,\r
+carts, guns, artillery, and again baggage wagons and vehicles of all\r
+kinds overtaking one another and blocking the muddy road, three and\r
+sometimes four abreast. From all sides, behind and before, as far as ear\r
+could reach, there were the rattle of wheels, the creaking of carts and\r
+gun carriages, the tramp of horses, the crack of whips, shouts, the\r
+urging of horses, and the swearing of soldiers, orderlies, and officers.\r
+All along the sides of the road fallen horses were to be seen, some\r
+flayed, some not, and broken-down carts beside which solitary soldiers\r
+sat waiting for something, and again soldiers straggling from their\r
+companies, crowds of whom set off to the neighboring villages, or\r
+returned from them dragging sheep, fowls, hay, and bulging sacks. At\r
+each ascent or descent of the road the crowds were yet denser and the\r
+din of shouting more incessant. Soldiers floundering knee-deep in mud\r
+pushed the guns and wagons themselves. Whips cracked, hoofs slipped,\r
+traces broke, and lungs were strained with shouting. The officers\r
+directing the march rode backward and forward between the carts. Their\r
+voices were but feebly heard amid the uproar and one saw by their faces\r
+that they despaired of the possibility of checking this disorder.\r
+\r
+"Here is our dear Orthodox Russian army," thought Bolkonski, recalling\r
+Bilibin's words.\r
+\r
+Wishing to find out where the commander-in-chief was, he rode up to a\r
+convoy. Directly opposite to him came a strange one-horse vehicle,\r
+evidently rigged up by soldiers out of any available materials and\r
+looking like something between a cart, a cabriolet, and a caleche. A\r
+soldier was driving, and a woman enveloped in shawls sat behind the\r
+apron under the leather hood of the vehicle. Prince Andrew rode up and\r
+was just putting his question to a soldier when his attention was\r
+diverted by the desperate shrieks of the woman in the vehicle. An\r
+officer in charge of transport was beating the soldier who was driving\r
+the woman's vehicle for trying to get ahead of others, and the strokes\r
+of his whip fell on the apron of the equipage. The woman screamed\r
+piercingly. Seeing Prince Andrew she leaned out from behind the apron\r
+and, waving her thin arms from under the woolen shawl, cried:\r
+\r
+"Mr. Aide-de-camp! Mr. Aide-de-camp!... For heaven's sake... Protect me!\r
+What will become of us? I am the wife of the doctor of the Seventh\r
+Chasseurs.... They won't let us pass, we are left behind and have lost\r
+our people..."\r
+\r
+"I'll flatten you into a pancake!" shouted the angry officer to the\r
+soldier. "Turn back with your slut!"\r
+\r
+"Mr. Aide-de-camp! Help me!... What does it all mean?" screamed the\r
+doctor's wife.\r
+\r
+"Kindly let this cart pass. Don't you see it's a woman?" said Prince\r
+Andrew riding up to the officer.\r
+\r
+The officer glanced at him, and without replying turned again to the\r
+soldier. "I'll teach you to push on!... Back!"\r
+\r
+"Let them pass, I tell you!" repeated Prince Andrew, compressing his\r
+lips.\r
+\r
+"And who are you?" cried the officer, turning on him with tipsy rage,\r
+"who are you? Are you in command here? Eh? I am commander here, not you!\r
+Go back or I'll flatten you into a pancake," repeated he. This\r
+expression evidently pleased him.\r
+\r
+"That was a nice snub for the little aide-de-camp," came a voice from\r
+behind.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew saw that the officer was in that state of senseless, tipsy\r
+rage when a man does not know what he is saying. He saw that his\r
+championship of the doctor's wife in her queer trap might expose him to\r
+what he dreaded more than anything in the world--to ridicule; but his\r
+instinct urged him on. Before the officer finished his sentence Prince\r
+Andrew, his face distorted with fury, rode up to him and raised his\r
+riding whip.\r
+\r
+"Kind...ly let--them--pass!"\r
+\r
+The officer flourished his arm and hastily rode away.\r
+\r
+"It's all the fault of these fellows on the staff that there's this\r
+disorder," he muttered. "Do as you like."\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew without lifting his eyes rode hastily away from the\r
+doctor's wife, who was calling him her deliverer, and recalling with a\r
+sense of disgust the minutest details of this humiliating scene he\r
+galloped on to the village where he was told that the commander-in-chief\r
+was.\r
+\r
+On reaching the village he dismounted and went to the nearest house,\r
+intending to rest if but for a moment, eat something, and try to sort\r
+out the stinging and tormenting thoughts that confused his mind. "This\r
+is a mob of scoundrels and not an army," he was thinking as he went up\r
+to the window of the first house, when a familiar voice called him by\r
+name.\r
+\r
+He turned round. Nesvitski's handsome face looked out of the little\r
+window. Nesvitski, moving his moist lips as he chewed something, and\r
+flourishing his arm, called him to enter.\r
+\r
+"Bolkonski! Bolkonski!... Don't you hear? Eh? Come quick..." he shouted.\r
+\r
+Entering the house, Prince Andrew saw Nesvitski and another adjutant\r
+having something to eat. They hastily turned round to him asking if he\r
+had any news. On their familiar faces he read agitation and alarm. This\r
+was particularly noticeable on Nesvitski's usually laughing countenance.\r
+\r
+"Where is the commander-in-chief?" asked Bolkonski.\r
+\r
+"Here, in that house," answered the adjutant.\r
+\r
+"Well, is it true that it's peace and capitulation?" asked Nesvitski.\r
+\r
+"I was going to ask you. I know nothing except that it was all I could\r
+do to get here."\r
+\r
+"And we, my dear boy! It's terrible! I was wrong to laugh at Mack, we're\r
+getting it still worse," said Nesvitski. "But sit down and have\r
+something to eat."\r
+\r
+"You won't be able to find either your baggage or anything else now,\r
+Prince. And God only knows where your man Peter is," said the other\r
+adjutant.\r
+\r
+"Where are headquarters?"\r
+\r
+"We are to spend the night in Znaim."\r
+\r
+"Well, I have got all I need into packs for two horses," said Nesvitski.\r
+"They've made up splendid packs for me--fit to cross the Bohemian\r
+mountains with. It's a bad lookout, old fellow! But what's the matter\r
+with you? You must be ill to shiver like that," he added, noticing that\r
+Prince Andrew winced as at an electric shock.\r
+\r
+"It's nothing," replied Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+He had just remembered his recent encounter with the doctor's wife and\r
+the convoy officer.\r
+\r
+"What is the commander-in-chief doing here?" he asked.\r
+\r
+"I can't make out at all," said Nesvitski.\r
+\r
+"Well, all I can make out is that everything is abominable, abominable,\r
+quite abominable!" said Prince Andrew, and he went off to the house\r
+where the commander-in-chief was.\r
+\r
+Passing by Kutuzov's carriage and the exhausted saddle horses of his\r
+suite, with their Cossacks who were talking loudly together, Prince\r
+Andrew entered the passage. Kutuzov himself, he was told, was in the\r
+house with Prince Bagration and Weyrother. Weyrother was the Austrian\r
+general who had succeeded Schmidt. In the passage little Kozlovski was\r
+squatting on his heels in front of a clerk. The clerk, with cuffs turned\r
+up, was hastily writing at a tub turned bottom upwards. Kozlovski's face\r
+looked worn--he too had evidently not slept all night. He glanced at\r
+Prince Andrew and did not even nod to him.\r
+\r
+"Second line... have you written it?" he continued dictating to the\r
+clerk. "The Kiev Grenadiers, Podolian..."\r
+\r
+"One can't write so fast, your honor," said the clerk, glancing angrily\r
+and disrespectfully at Kozlovski.\r
+\r
+Through the door came the sounds of Kutuzov's voice, excited and\r
+dissatisfied, interrupted by another, an unfamiliar voice. From the\r
+sound of these voices, the inattentive way Kozlovski looked at him, the\r
+disrespectful manner of the exhausted clerk, the fact that the clerk and\r
+Kozlovski were squatting on the floor by a tub so near to the commander\r
+in chief, and from the noisy laughter of the Cossacks holding the horses\r
+near the window, Prince Andrew felt that something important and\r
+disastrous was about to happen.\r
+\r
+He turned to Kozlovski with urgent questions.\r
+\r
+"Immediately, Prince," said Kozlovski. "Dispositions for Bagration."\r
+\r
+"What about capitulation?"\r
+\r
+"Nothing of the sort. Orders are issued for a battle."\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew moved toward the door from whence voices were heard. Just\r
+as he was going to open it the sounds ceased, the door opened, and\r
+Kutuzov with his eagle nose and puffy face appeared in the doorway.\r
+Prince Andrew stood right in front of Kutuzov but the expression of the\r
+commander in chief's one sound eye showed him to be so preoccupied with\r
+thoughts and anxieties as to be oblivious of his presence. He looked\r
+straight at his adjutant's face without recognizing him.\r
+\r
+"Well, have you finished?" said he to Kozlovski.\r
+\r
+"One moment, your excellency."\r
+\r
+Bagration, a gaunt middle-aged man of medium height with a firm,\r
+impassive face of Oriental type, came out after the commander-in-chief.\r
+\r
+"I have the honor to present myself," repeated Prince Andrew rather\r
+loudly, handing Kutuzov an envelope.\r
+\r
+"Ah, from Vienna? Very good. Later, later!"\r
+\r
+Kutuzov went out into the porch with Bagration.\r
+\r
+"Well, good-by, Prince," said he to Bagration. "My blessing, and may\r
+Christ be with you in your great endeavor!"\r
+\r
+His face suddenly softened and tears came into his eyes. With his left\r
+hand he drew Bagration toward him, and with his right, on which he wore\r
+a ring, he made the sign of the cross over him with a gesture evidently\r
+habitual, offering his puffy cheek, but Bagration kissed him on the neck\r
+instead.\r
+\r
+"Christ be with you!" Kutuzov repeated and went toward his carriage.\r
+"Get in with me," said he to Bolkonski.\r
+\r
+"Your excellency, I should like to be of use here. Allow me to remain\r
+with Prince Bagration's detachment."\r
+\r
+"Get in," said Kutuzov, and noticing that Bolkonski still delayed, he\r
+added: "I need good officers myself, need them myself!"\r
+\r
+They got into the carriage and drove for a few minutes in silence.\r
+\r
+"There is still much, much before us," he said, as if with an old man's\r
+penetration he understood all that was passing in Bolkonski's mind. "If\r
+a tenth part of his detachment returns I shall thank God," he added as\r
+if speaking to himself.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew glanced at Kutuzov's face only a foot distant from him and\r
+involuntarily noticed the carefully washed seams of the scar near his\r
+temple, where an Ismail bullet had pierced his skull, and the empty eye\r
+socket. "Yes, he has a right to speak so calmly of those men's death,"\r
+thought Bolkonski.\r
+\r
+"That is why I beg to be sent to that detachment," he said.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov did not reply. He seemed to have forgotten what he had been\r
+saying, and sat plunged in thought. Five minutes later, gently swaying\r
+on the soft springs of the carriage, he turned to Prince Andrew. There\r
+was not a trace of agitation on his face. With delicate irony he\r
+questioned Prince Andrew about the details of his interview with the\r
+Emperor, about the remarks he had heard at court concerning the Krems\r
+affair, and about some ladies they both knew.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIV\r
+\r
+On November 1 Kutuzov had received, through a spy, news that the army he\r
+commanded was in an almost hopeless position. The spy reported that the\r
+French, after crossing the bridge at Vienna, were advancing in immense\r
+force upon Kutuzov's line of communication with the troops that were\r
+arriving from Russia. If Kutuzov decided to remain at Krems, Napoleon's\r
+army of one hundred and fifty thousand men would cut him off completely\r
+and surround his exhausted army of forty thousand, and he would find\r
+himself in the position of Mack at Ulm. If Kutuzov decided to abandon\r
+the road connecting him with the troops arriving from Russia, he would\r
+have to march with no road into unknown parts of the Bohemian mountains,\r
+defending himself against superior forces of the enemy and abandoning\r
+all hope of a junction with Buxhowden. If Kutuzov decided to retreat\r
+along the road from Krems to Olmutz, to unite with the troops arriving\r
+from Russia, he risked being forestalled on that road by the French who\r
+had crossed the Vienna bridge, and encumbered by his baggage and\r
+transport, having to accept battle on the march against an enemy three\r
+times as strong, who would hem him in from two sides.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov chose this latter course.\r
+\r
+The French, the spy reported, having crossed the Vienna bridge, were\r
+advancing by forced marches toward Znaim, which lay sixty-six miles off\r
+on the line of Kutuzov's retreat. If he reached Znaim before the French,\r
+there would be great hope of saving the army; to let the French\r
+forestall him at Znaim meant the exposure of his whole army to a\r
+disgrace such as that of Ulm, or to utter destruction. But to forestall\r
+the French with his whole army was impossible. The road for the French\r
+from Vienna to Znaim was shorter and better than the road for the\r
+Russians from Krems to Znaim.\r
+\r
+The night he received the news, Kutuzov sent Bagration's vanguard, four\r
+thousand strong, to the right across the hills from the Krems-Znaim to\r
+the Vienna-Znaim road. Bagration was to make this march without resting,\r
+and to halt facing Vienna with Znaim to his rear, and if he succeeded in\r
+forestalling the French he was to delay them as long as possible.\r
+Kutuzov himself with all his transport took the road to Znaim.\r
+\r
+Marching thirty miles that stormy night across roadless hills, with his\r
+hungry, ill-shod soldiers, and losing a third of his men as stragglers\r
+by the way, Bagration came out on the Vienna-Znaim road at Hollabrunn a\r
+few hours ahead of the French who were approaching Hollabrunn from\r
+Vienna. Kutuzov with his transport had still to march for some days\r
+before he could reach Znaim. Hence Bagration with his four thousand\r
+hungry, exhausted men would have to detain for days the whole enemy army\r
+that came upon him at Hollabrunn, which was clearly impossible. But a\r
+freak of fate made the impossible possible. The success of the trick\r
+that had placed the Vienna bridge in the hands of the French without a\r
+fight led Murat to try to deceive Kutuzov in a similar way. Meeting\r
+Bagration's weak detachment on the Znaim road he supposed it to be\r
+Kutuzov's whole army. To be able to crush it absolutely he awaited the\r
+arrival of the rest of the troops who were on their way from Vienna, and\r
+with this object offered a three days' truce on condition that both\r
+armies should remain in position without moving. Murat declared that\r
+negotiations for peace were already proceeding, and that he therefore\r
+offered this truce to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. Count Nostitz, the\r
+Austrian general occupying the advanced posts, believed Murat's emissary\r
+and retired, leaving Bagration's division exposed. Another emissary rode\r
+to the Russian line to announce the peace negotiations and to offer the\r
+Russian army the three days' truce. Bagration replied that he was not\r
+authorized either to accept or refuse a truce and sent his adjutant to\r
+Kutuzov to report the offer he had received.\r
+\r
+A truce was Kutuzov's sole chance of gaining time, giving Bagration's\r
+exhausted troops some rest, and letting the transport and heavy convoys\r
+(whose movements were concealed from the French) advance if but one\r
+stage nearer Znaim. The offer of a truce gave the only, and a quite\r
+unexpected, chance of saving the army. On receiving the news he\r
+immediately dispatched Adjutant General Wintzingerode, who was in\r
+attendance on him, to the enemy camp. Wintzingerode was not merely to\r
+agree to the truce but also to offer terms of capitulation, and\r
+meanwhile Kutuzov sent his adjutants back to hasten to the utmost the\r
+movements of the baggage trains of the entire army along the Krems-Znaim\r
+road. Bagration's exhausted and hungry detachment, which alone covered\r
+this movement of the transport and of the whole army, had to remain\r
+stationary in face of an enemy eight times as strong as itself.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov's expectations that the proposals of capitulation (which were in\r
+no way binding) might give time for part of the transport to pass, and\r
+also that Murat's mistake would very soon be discovered, proved correct.\r
+As soon as Bonaparte (who was at Schonbrunn, sixteen miles from\r
+Hollabrunn) received Murat's dispatch with the proposal of a truce and a\r
+capitulation, he detected a ruse and wrote the following letter to\r
+Murat:\r
+\r
+Schonbrunn, 25th Brumaire, 1805,\r
+\r
+at eight o'clock in the morning\r
+\r
+To PRINCE MURAT,\r
+\r
+I cannot find words to express to you my displeasure. You command only\r
+my advance guard, and have no right to arrange an armistice without my\r
+order. You are causing me to lose the fruits of a campaign. Break the\r
+armistice immediately and march on the enemy. Inform him that the\r
+general who signed that capitulation had no right to do so, and that no\r
+one but the Emperor of Russia has that right.\r
+\r
+If, however, the Emperor of Russia ratifies that convention, I will\r
+ratify it; but it is only a trick. March on, destroy the Russian\r
+army.... You are in a position to seize its baggage and artillery.\r
+\r
+The Russian Emperor's aide-de-camp is an impostor. Officers are nothing\r
+when they have no powers; this one had none.... The Austrians let\r
+themselves be tricked at the crossing of the Vienna bridge, you are\r
+letting yourself be tricked by an aide-de-camp of the Emperor.\r
+\r
+NAPOLEON\r
+\r
+Bonaparte's adjutant rode full gallop with this menacing letter to\r
+Murat. Bonaparte himself, not trusting to his generals, moved with all\r
+the Guards to the field of battle, afraid of letting a ready victim\r
+escape, and Bagration's four thousand men merrily lighted campfires,\r
+dried and warmed themselves, cooked their porridge for the first time\r
+for three days, and not one of them knew or imagined what was in store\r
+for him.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XV\r
+\r
+Between three and four o'clock in the afternoon Prince Andrew, who had\r
+persisted in his request to Kutuzov, arrived at Grunth and reported\r
+himself to Bagration. Bonaparte's adjutant had not yet reached Murat's\r
+detachment and the battle had not yet begun. In Bagration's detachment\r
+no one knew anything of the general position of affairs. They talked of\r
+peace but did not believe in its possibility; others talked of a battle\r
+but also disbelieved in the nearness of an engagement. Bagration,\r
+knowing Bolkonski to be a favorite and trusted adjutant, received him\r
+with distinction and special marks of favor, explaining to him that\r
+there would probably be an engagement that day or the next, and giving\r
+him full liberty to remain with him during the battle or to join the\r
+rearguard and have an eye on the order of retreat, "which is also very\r
+important."\r
+\r
+"However, there will hardly be an engagement today," said Bagration as\r
+if to reassure Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+"If he is one of the ordinary little staff dandies sent to earn a medal\r
+he can get his reward just as well in the rearguard, but if he wishes to\r
+stay with me, let him... he'll be of use here if he's a brave officer,"\r
+thought Bagration. Prince Andrew, without replying, asked the prince's\r
+permission to ride round the position to see the disposition of the\r
+forces, so as to know his bearings should he be sent to execute an\r
+order. The officer on duty, a handsome, elegantly dressed man with a\r
+diamond ring on his forefinger, who was fond of speaking French though\r
+he spoke it badly, offered to conduct Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+On all sides they saw rain-soaked officers with dejected faces who\r
+seemed to be seeking something, and soldiers dragging doors, benches,\r
+and fencing from the village.\r
+\r
+"There now, Prince! We can't stop those fellows," said the staff officer\r
+pointing to the soldiers. "The officers don't keep them in hand. And\r
+there," he pointed to a sutler's tent, "they crowd in and sit. This\r
+morning I turned them all out and now look, it's full again. I must go\r
+there, Prince, and scare them a bit. It won't take a moment."\r
+\r
+"Yes, let's go in and I will get myself a roll and some cheese," said\r
+Prince Andrew who had not yet had time to eat anything.\r
+\r
+"Why didn't you mention it, Prince? I would have offered you something."\r
+\r
+They dismounted and entered the tent. Several officers, with flushed and\r
+weary faces, were sitting at the table eating and drinking.\r
+\r
+"Now what does this mean, gentlemen?" said the staff officer, in the\r
+reproachful tone of a man who has repeated the same thing more than\r
+once. "You know it won't do to leave your posts like this. The prince\r
+gave orders that no one should leave his post. Now you, Captain," and he\r
+turned to a thin, dirty little artillery officer who without his boots\r
+(he had given them to the canteen keeper to dry), in only his stockings,\r
+rose when they entered, smiling not altogether comfortably.\r
+\r
+"Well, aren't you ashamed of yourself, Captain Tushin?" he continued.\r
+"One would think that as an artillery officer you would set a good\r
+example, yet here you are without your boots! The alarm will be sounded\r
+and you'll be in a pretty position without your boots!" (The staff\r
+officer smiled.) "Kindly return to your posts, gentlemen, all of you,\r
+all!" he added in a tone of command.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew smiled involuntarily as he looked at the artillery officer\r
+Tushin, who silent and smiling, shifting from one stockinged foot to the\r
+other, glanced inquiringly with his large, intelligent, kindly eyes from\r
+Prince Andrew to the staff officer.\r
+\r
+"The soldiers say it feels easier without boots," said Captain Tushin\r
+smiling shyly in his uncomfortable position, evidently wishing to adopt\r
+a jocular tone. But before he had finished he felt that his jest was\r
+unacceptable and had not come off. He grew confused.\r
+\r
+"Kindly return to your posts," said the staff officer trying to preserve\r
+his gravity.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew glanced again at the artillery officer's small figure.\r
+There was something peculiar about it, quite unsoldierly, rather comic,\r
+but extremely attractive.\r
+\r
+The staff officer and Prince Andrew mounted their horses and rode on.\r
+\r
+Having ridden beyond the village, continually meeting and overtaking\r
+soldiers and officers of various regiments, they saw on their left some\r
+entrenchments being thrown up, the freshly dug clay of which showed up\r
+red. Several battalions of soldiers, in their shirt sleeves despite the\r
+cold wind, swarmed in these earthworks like a host of white ants;\r
+spadefuls of red clay were continually being thrown up from behind the\r
+bank by unseen hands. Prince Andrew and the officer rode up, looked at\r
+the entrenchment, and went on again. Just behind it they came upon some\r
+dozens of soldiers, continually replaced by others, who ran from the\r
+entrenchment. They had to hold their noses and put their horses to a\r
+trot to escape from the poisoned atmosphere of these latrines.\r
+\r
+"Voila l'agrement des camps, monsieur le Prince," * said the staff\r
+officer.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "This is a pleasure one gets in camp, Prince."\r
+\r
+They rode up the opposite hill. From there the French could already be\r
+seen. Prince Andrew stopped and began examining the position.\r
+\r
+"That's our battery," said the staff officer indicating the highest\r
+point. "It's in charge of the queer fellow we saw without his boots. You\r
+can see everything from there; let's go there, Prince."\r
+\r
+"Thank you very much, I will go on alone," said Prince Andrew, wishing\r
+to rid himself of this staff officer's company, "please don't trouble\r
+yourself further."\r
+\r
+The staff officer remained behind and Prince Andrew rode on alone.\r
+\r
+The farther forward and nearer the enemy he went, the more orderly and\r
+cheerful were the troops. The greatest disorder and depression had been\r
+in the baggage train he had passed that morning on the Znaim road seven\r
+miles away from the French. At Grunth also some apprehension and alarm\r
+could be felt, but the nearer Prince Andrew came to the French lines the\r
+more confident was the appearance of our troops. The soldiers in their\r
+greatcoats were ranged in lines, the sergeants major and company\r
+officers were counting the men, poking the last man in each section in\r
+the ribs and telling him to hold his hand up. Soldiers scattered over\r
+the whole place were dragging logs and brushwood and were building\r
+shelters with merry chatter and laughter; around the fires sat others,\r
+dressed and undressed, drying their shirts and leg bands or mending\r
+boots or overcoats and crowding round the boilers and porridge cookers.\r
+In one company dinner was ready, and the soldiers were gazing eagerly at\r
+the steaming boiler, waiting till the sample, which a quartermaster\r
+sergeant was carrying in a wooden bowl to an officer who sat on a log\r
+before his shelter, had been tasted.\r
+\r
+Another company, a lucky one for not all the companies had vodka,\r
+crowded round a pockmarked, broad-shouldered sergeant major who, tilting\r
+a keg, filled one after another the canteen lids held out to him. The\r
+soldiers lifted the canteen lids to their lips with reverential faces,\r
+emptied them, rolling the vodka in their mouths, and walked away from\r
+the sergeant major with brightened expressions, licking their lips and\r
+wiping them on the sleeves of their greatcoats. All their faces were as\r
+serene as if all this were happening at home awaiting peaceful\r
+encampment, and not within sight of the enemy before an action in which\r
+at least half of them would be left on the field. After passing a\r
+chasseur regiment and in the lines of the Kiev grenadiers--fine fellows\r
+busy with similar peaceful affairs--near the shelter of the regimental\r
+commander, higher than and different from the others, Prince Andrew came\r
+out in front of a platoon of grenadiers before whom lay a naked man. Two\r
+soldiers held him while two others were flourishing their switches and\r
+striking him regularly on his bare back. The man shrieked unnaturally. A\r
+stout major was pacing up and down the line, and regardless of the\r
+screams kept repeating:\r
+\r
+"It's a shame for a soldier to steal; a soldier must be honest,\r
+honorable, and brave, but if he robs his fellows there is no honor in\r
+him, he's a scoundrel. Go on! Go on!"\r
+\r
+So the swishing sound of the strokes, and the desperate but unnatural\r
+screams, continued.\r
+\r
+"Go on, go on!" said the major.\r
+\r
+A young officer with a bewildered and pained expression on his face\r
+stepped away from the man and looked round inquiringly at the adjutant\r
+as he rode by.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew, having reached the front line, rode along it. Our front\r
+line and that of the enemy were far apart on the right and left flanks,\r
+but in the center where the men with a flag of truce had passed that\r
+morning, the lines were so near together that the men could see one\r
+another's faces and speak to one another. Besides the soldiers who\r
+formed the picket line on either side, there were many curious onlookers\r
+who, jesting and laughing, stared at their strange foreign enemies.\r
+\r
+Since early morning--despite an injunction not to approach the picket\r
+line--the officers had been unable to keep sight-seers away. The\r
+soldiers forming the picket line, like showmen exhibiting a curiosity,\r
+no longer looked at the French but paid attention to the sight-seers and\r
+grew weary waiting to be relieved. Prince Andrew halted to have a look\r
+at the French.\r
+\r
+"Look! Look there!" one soldier was saying to another, pointing to a\r
+Russian musketeer who had gone up to the picket line with an officer and\r
+was rapidly and excitedly talking to a French grenadier. "Hark to him\r
+jabbering! Fine, isn't it? It's all the Frenchy can do to keep up with\r
+him. There now, Sidorov!"\r
+\r
+"Wait a bit and listen. It's fine!" answered Sidorov, who was considered\r
+an adept at French.\r
+\r
+The soldier to whom the laughers referred was Dolokhov. Prince Andrew\r
+recognized him and stopped to listen to what he was saying. Dolokhov had\r
+come from the left flank where their regiment was stationed, with his\r
+captain.\r
+\r
+"Now then, go on, go on!" incited the officer, bending forward and\r
+trying not to lose a word of the speech which was incomprehensible to\r
+him. "More, please: more! What's he saying?"\r
+\r
+Dolokhov did not answer the captain; he had been drawn into a hot\r
+dispute with the French grenadier. They were naturally talking about the\r
+campaign. The Frenchman, confusing the Austrians with the Russians, was\r
+trying to prove that the Russians had surrendered and had fled all the\r
+way from Ulm, while Dolokhov maintained that the Russians had not\r
+surrendered but had beaten the French.\r
+\r
+"We have orders to drive you off here, and we shall drive you off," said\r
+Dolokhov.\r
+\r
+"Only take care you and your Cossacks are not all captured!" said the\r
+French grenadier.\r
+\r
+The French onlookers and listeners laughed.\r
+\r
+"We'll make you dance as we did under Suvorov...," * said Dolokhov.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "On vous fera danser."\r
+\r
+"Qu' est-ce qu'il chante?" * asked a Frenchman.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "What's he singing about?"\r
+\r
+"It's ancient history," said another, guessing that it referred to a\r
+former war. "The Emperor will teach your Suvara as he has taught the\r
+others..."\r
+\r
+"Bonaparte..." began Dolokhov, but the Frenchman interrupted him.\r
+\r
+"Not Bonaparte. He is the Emperor! Sacre nom...!" cried he angrily.\r
+\r
+"The devil skin your Emperor."\r
+\r
+And Dolokhov swore at him in coarse soldier's Russian and shouldering\r
+his musket walked away.\r
+\r
+"Let us go, Ivan Lukich," he said to the captain.\r
+\r
+"Ah, that's the way to talk French," said the picket soldiers. "Now,\r
+Sidorov, you have a try!"\r
+\r
+Sidorov, turning to the French, winked, and began to jabber meaningless\r
+sounds very fast: "Kari, mala, tafa, safi, muter, Kaska," he said,\r
+trying to give an expressive intonation to his voice.\r
+\r
+"Ho! ho! ho! Ha! ha! ha! ha! Ouh! ouh!" came peals of such healthy and\r
+good-humored laughter from the soldiers that it infected the French\r
+involuntarily, so much so that the only thing left to do seemed to be to\r
+unload the muskets, explode the ammunition, and all return home as\r
+quickly as possible.\r
+\r
+But the guns remained loaded, the loopholes in blockhouses and\r
+entrenchments looked out just as menacingly, and the unlimbered cannon\r
+confronted one another as before.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVI\r
+\r
+Having ridden round the whole line from right flank to left, Prince\r
+Andrew made his way up to the battery from which the staff officer had\r
+told him the whole field could be seen. Here he dismounted, and stopped\r
+beside the farthest of the four unlimbered cannon. Before the guns an\r
+artillery sentry was pacing up and down; he stood at attention when the\r
+officer arrived, but at a sign resumed his measured, monotonous pacing.\r
+Behind the guns were their limbers and still farther back picket ropes\r
+and artillerymen's bonfires. To the left, not far from the farthest\r
+cannon, was a small, newly constructed wattle shed from which came the\r
+sound of officers' voices in eager conversation.\r
+\r
+It was true that a view over nearly the whole Russian position and the\r
+greater part of the enemy's opened out from this battery. Just facing\r
+it, on the crest of the opposite hill, the village of Schon Grabern\r
+could be seen, and in three places to left and right the French troops\r
+amid the smoke of their campfires, the greater part of whom were\r
+evidently in the village itself and behind the hill. To the left from\r
+that village, amid the smoke, was something resembling a battery, but it\r
+was impossible to see it clearly with the naked eye. Our right flank was\r
+posted on a rather steep incline which dominated the French position.\r
+Our infantry were stationed there, and at the farthest point the\r
+dragoons. In the center, where Tushin's battery stood and from which\r
+Prince Andrew was surveying the position, was the easiest and most\r
+direct descent and ascent to the brook separating us from Schon Grabern.\r
+On the left our troops were close to a copse, in which smoked the\r
+bonfires of our infantry who were felling wood. The French line was\r
+wider than ours, and it was plain that they could easily outflank us on\r
+both sides. Behind our position was a steep and deep dip, making it\r
+difficult for artillery and cavalry to retire. Prince Andrew took out\r
+his notebook and, leaning on the cannon, sketched a plan of the\r
+position. He made some notes on two points, intending to mention them to\r
+Bagration. His idea was, first, to concentrate all the artillery in the\r
+center, and secondly, to withdraw the cavalry to the other side of the\r
+dip. Prince Andrew, being always near the commander in chief, closely\r
+following the mass movements and general orders, and constantly studying\r
+historical accounts of battles, involuntarily pictured to himself the\r
+course of events in the forthcoming action in broad outline. He imagined\r
+only important possibilities: "If the enemy attacks the right flank," he\r
+said to himself, "the Kiev grenadiers and the Podolsk chasseurs must\r
+hold their position till reserves from the center come up. In that case\r
+the dragoons could successfully make a flank counterattack. If they\r
+attack our center we, having the center battery on this high ground,\r
+shall withdraw the left flank under its cover, and retreat to the dip by\r
+echelons." So he reasoned.... All the time he had been beside the gun,\r
+he had heard the voices of the officers distinctly, but as often happens\r
+had not understood a word of what they were saying. Suddenly, however,\r
+he was struck by a voice coming from the shed, and its tone was so\r
+sincere that he could not but listen.\r
+\r
+"No, friend," said a pleasant and, as it seemed to Prince Andrew, a\r
+familiar voice, "what I say is that if it were possible to know what is\r
+beyond death, none of us would be afraid of it. That's so, friend."\r
+\r
+Another, a younger voice, interrupted him: "Afraid or not, you can't\r
+escape it anyhow."\r
+\r
+"All the same, one is afraid! Oh, you clever people," said a third manly\r
+voice interrupting them both. "Of course you artillery men are very\r
+wise, because you can take everything along with you--vodka and snacks."\r
+\r
+And the owner of the manly voice, evidently an infantry officer,\r
+laughed.\r
+\r
+"Yes, one is afraid," continued the first speaker, he of the familiar\r
+voice. "One is afraid of the unknown, that's what it is. Whatever we may\r
+say about the soul going to the sky... we know there is no sky but only\r
+an atmosphere."\r
+\r
+The manly voice again interrupted the artillery officer.\r
+\r
+"Well, stand us some of your herb vodka, Tushin," it said.\r
+\r
+"Why," thought Prince Andrew, "that's the captain who stood up in the\r
+sutler's hut without his boots." He recognized the agreeable,\r
+philosophizing voice with pleasure.\r
+\r
+"Some herb vodka? Certainly!" said Tushin. "But still, to conceive a\r
+future life..."\r
+\r
+He did not finish. Just then there was a whistle in the air; nearer and\r
+nearer, faster and louder, louder and faster, a cannon ball, as if it\r
+had not finished saying what was necessary, thudded into the ground near\r
+the shed with super human force, throwing up a mass of earth. The ground\r
+seemed to groan at the terrible impact.\r
+\r
+And immediately Tushin, with a short pipe in the corner of his mouth and\r
+his kind, intelligent face rather pale, rushed out of the shed followed\r
+by the owner of the manly voice, a dashing infantry officer who hurried\r
+off to his company, buttoning up his coat as he ran.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVII\r
+\r
+Mounting his horse again Prince Andrew lingered with the battery,\r
+looking at the puff from the gun that had sent the ball. His eyes ran\r
+rapidly over the wide space, but he only saw that the hitherto\r
+motionless masses of the French now swayed and that there really was a\r
+battery to their left. The smoke above it had not yet dispersed. Two\r
+mounted Frenchmen, probably adjutants, were galloping up the hill. A\r
+small but distinctly visible enemy column was moving down the hill,\r
+probably to strengthen the front line. The smoke of the first shot had\r
+not yet dispersed before another puff appeared, followed by a report.\r
+The battle had begun! Prince Andrew turned his horse and galloped back\r
+to Grunth to find Prince Bagration. He heard the cannonade behind him\r
+growing louder and more frequent. Evidently our guns had begun to reply.\r
+From the bottom of the slope, where the parleys had taken place, came\r
+the report of musketry.\r
+\r
+Lemarrois had just arrived at a gallop with Bonaparte's stern letter,\r
+and Murat, humiliated and anxious to expiate his fault, had at once\r
+moved his forces to attack the center and outflank both the Russian\r
+wings, hoping before evening and before the arrival of the Emperor to\r
+crush the contemptible detachment that stood before him.\r
+\r
+"It has begun. Here it is!" thought Prince Andrew, feeling the blood\r
+rush to his heart. "But where and how will my Toulon present itself?"\r
+\r
+Passing between the companies that had been eating porridge and drinking\r
+vodka a quarter of an hour before, he saw everywhere the same rapid\r
+movement of soldiers forming ranks and getting their muskets ready, and\r
+on all their faces he recognized the same eagerness that filled his\r
+heart. "It has begun! Here it is, dreadful but enjoyable!" was what the\r
+face of each soldier and each officer seemed to say.\r
+\r
+Before he had reached the embankments that were being thrown up, he saw,\r
+in the light of the dull autumn evening, mounted men coming toward him.\r
+The foremost, wearing a Cossack cloak and lambskin cap and riding a\r
+white horse, was Prince Bagration. Prince Andrew stopped, waiting for\r
+him to come up; Prince Bagration reined in his horse and recognizing\r
+Prince Andrew nodded to him. He still looked ahead while Prince Andrew\r
+told him what he had seen.\r
+\r
+The feeling, "It has begun! Here it is!" was seen even on Prince\r
+Bagration's hard brown face with its half-closed, dull, sleepy eyes.\r
+Prince Andrew gazed with anxious curiosity at that impassive face and\r
+wished he could tell what, if anything, this man was thinking and\r
+feeling at that moment. "Is there anything at all behind that impassive\r
+face?" Prince Andrew asked himself as he looked. Prince Bagration bent\r
+his head in sign of agreement with what Prince Andrew told him, and\r
+said, "Very good!" in a tone that seemed to imply that everything that\r
+took place and was reported to him was exactly what he had foreseen.\r
+Prince Andrew, out of breath with his rapid ride, spoke quickly. Prince\r
+Bagration, uttering his words with an Oriental accent, spoke\r
+particularly slowly, as if to impress the fact that there was no need to\r
+hurry. However, he put his horse to a trot in the direction of Tushin's\r
+battery. Prince Andrew followed with the suite. Behind Prince Bagration\r
+rode an officer of the suite, the prince's personal adjutant, Zherkov,\r
+an orderly officer, the staff officer on duty, riding a fine bobtailed\r
+horse, and a civilian--an accountant who had asked permission to be\r
+present at the battle out of curiosity. The accountant, a stout, full-\r
+faced man, looked around him with a naive smile of satisfaction and\r
+presented a strange appearance among the hussars, Cossacks, and\r
+adjutants, in his camlet coat, as he jolted on his horse with a convoy\r
+officer's saddle.\r
+\r
+"He wants to see a battle," said Zherkov to Bolkonski, pointing to the\r
+accountant, "but he feels a pain in the pit of his stomach already."\r
+\r
+"Oh, leave off!" said the accountant with a beaming but rather cunning\r
+smile, as if flattered at being made the subject of Zherkov's joke, and\r
+purposely trying to appear stupider than he really was.\r
+\r
+"It is very strange, mon Monsieur Prince," said the staff officer. (He\r
+remembered that in French there is some peculiar way of addressing a\r
+prince, but could not get it quite right.)\r
+\r
+By this time they were all approaching Tushin's battery, and a ball\r
+struck the ground in front of them.\r
+\r
+"What's that that has fallen?" asked the accountant with a naive smile.\r
+\r
+"A French pancake," answered Zherkov.\r
+\r
+"So that's what they hit with?" asked the accountant. "How awful!"\r
+\r
+He seemed to swell with satisfaction. He had hardly finished speaking\r
+when they again heard an unexpectedly violent whistling which suddenly\r
+ended with a thud into something soft... f-f-flop! and a Cossack, riding\r
+a little to their right and behind the accountant, crashed to earth with\r
+his horse. Zherkov and the staff officer bent over their saddles and\r
+turned their horses away. The accountant stopped, facing the Cossack,\r
+and examined him with attentive curiosity. The Cossack was dead, but the\r
+horse still struggled.\r
+\r
+Prince Bagration screwed up his eyes, looked round, and, seeing the\r
+cause of the confusion, turned away with indifference, as if to say, "Is\r
+it worth while noticing trifles?" He reined in his horse with the care\r
+of a skillful rider and, slightly bending over, disengaged his saber\r
+which had caught in his cloak. It was an old-fashioned saber of a kind\r
+no longer in general use. Prince Andrew remembered the story of Suvorov\r
+giving his saber to Bagration in Italy, and the recollection was\r
+particularly pleasant at that moment. They had reached the battery at\r
+which Prince Andrew had been when he examined the battlefield.\r
+\r
+"Whose company?" asked Prince Bagration of an artilleryman standing by\r
+the ammunition wagon.\r
+\r
+He asked, "Whose company?" but he really meant, "Are you frightened\r
+here?" and the artilleryman understood him.\r
+\r
+"Captain Tushin's, your excellency!" shouted the red-haired, freckled\r
+gunner in a merry voice, standing to attention.\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes," muttered Bagration as if considering something, and he rode\r
+past the limbers to the farthest cannon.\r
+\r
+As he approached, a ringing shot issued from it deafening him and his\r
+suite, and in the smoke that suddenly surrounded the gun they could see\r
+the gunners who had seized it straining to roll it quickly back to its\r
+former position. A huge, broad-shouldered gunner, Number One, holding a\r
+mop, his legs far apart, sprang to the wheel; while Number Two with a\r
+trembling hand placed a charge in the cannon's mouth. The short, round-\r
+shouldered Captain Tushin, stumbling over the tail of the gun carriage,\r
+moved forward and, not noticing the general, looked out shading his eyes\r
+with his small hand.\r
+\r
+"Lift it two lines more and it will be just right," cried he in a feeble\r
+voice to which he tried to impart a dashing note, ill-suited to his weak\r
+figure. "Number Two!" he squeaked. "Fire, Medvedev!"\r
+\r
+Bagration called to him, and Tushin, raising three fingers to his cap\r
+with a bashful and awkward gesture not at all like a military salute but\r
+like a priest's benediction, approached the general. Though Tushin's\r
+guns had been intended to cannonade the valley, he was firing incendiary\r
+balls at the village of Schon Grabern visible just opposite, in front of\r
+which large masses of French were advancing.\r
+\r
+No one had given Tushin orders where and at what to fire, but after\r
+consulting his sergeant major, Zakharchenko, for whom he had great\r
+respect, he had decided that it would be a good thing to set fire to the\r
+village. "Very good!" said Bagration in reply to the officer's report,\r
+and began deliberately to examine the whole battlefield extended before\r
+him. The French had advanced nearest on our right. Below the height on\r
+which the Kiev regiment was stationed, in the hollow where the rivulet\r
+flowed, the soul-stirring rolling and crackling of musketry was heard,\r
+and much farther to the right beyond the dragoons, the officer of the\r
+suite pointed out to Bagration a French column that was outflanking us.\r
+To the left the horizon bounded by the adjacent wood. Prince Bagration\r
+ordered two battalions from the center to be sent to reinforce the right\r
+flank. The officer of the suite ventured to remark to the prince that if\r
+these battalions went away, the guns would remain without support.\r
+Prince Bagration turned to the officer and with his dull eyes looked at\r
+him in silence. It seemed to Prince Andrew that the officer's remark was\r
+just and that really no answer could be made to it. But at that moment\r
+an adjutant galloped up with a message from the commander of the\r
+regiment in the hollow and news that immense masses of the French were\r
+coming down upon them and that his regiment was in disorder and was\r
+retreating upon the Kiev grenadiers. Prince Bagration bowed his head in\r
+sign of assent and approval. He rode off at a walk to the right and sent\r
+an adjutant to the dragoons with orders to attack the French. But this\r
+adjutant returned half an hour later with the news that the commander of\r
+the dragoons had already retreated beyond the dip in the ground, as a\r
+heavy fire had been opened on him and he was losing men uselessly, and\r
+so had hastened to throw some sharpshooters into the wood.\r
+\r
+"Very good!" said Bagration.\r
+\r
+As he was leaving the battery, firing was heard on the left also, and as\r
+it was too far to the left flank for him to have time to go there\r
+himself, Prince Bagration sent Zherkov to tell the general in command\r
+(the one who had paraded his regiment before Kutuzov at Braunau) that he\r
+must retreat as quickly as possible behind the hollow in the rear, as\r
+the right flank would probably not be able to withstand the enemy's\r
+attack very long. About Tushin and the battalion that had been in\r
+support of his battery all was forgotten. Prince Andrew listened\r
+attentively to Bagration's colloquies with the commanding officers and\r
+the orders he gave them and, to his surprise, found that no orders were\r
+really given, but that Prince Bagration tried to make it appear that\r
+everything done by necessity, by accident, or by the will of subordinate\r
+commanders was done, if not by his direct command, at least in accord\r
+with his intentions. Prince Andrew noticed, however, that though what\r
+happened was due to chance and was independent of the commander's will,\r
+owing to the tact Bagration showed, his presence was very valuable.\r
+Officers who approached him with disturbed countenances became calm;\r
+soldiers and officers greeted him gaily, grew more cheerful in his\r
+presence, and were evidently anxious to display their courage before\r
+him.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVIII\r
+\r
+Prince Bagration, having reached the highest point of our right flank,\r
+began riding downhill to where the roll of musketry was heard but where\r
+on account of the smoke nothing could be seen. The nearer they got to\r
+the hollow the less they could see but the more they felt the nearness\r
+of the actual battlefield. They began to meet wounded men. One with a\r
+bleeding head and no cap was being dragged along by two soldiers who\r
+supported him under the arms. There was a gurgle in his throat and he\r
+was spitting blood. A bullet had evidently hit him in the throat or\r
+mouth. Another was walking sturdily by himself but without his musket,\r
+groaning aloud and swinging his arm which had just been hurt, while\r
+blood from it was streaming over his greatcoat as from a bottle. He had\r
+that moment been wounded and his face showed fear rather than suffering.\r
+Crossing a road they descended a steep incline and saw several men lying\r
+on the ground; they also met a crowd of soldiers some of whom were\r
+unwounded. The soldiers were ascending the hill breathing heavily, and\r
+despite the general's presence were talking loudly and gesticulating. In\r
+front of them rows of gray cloaks were already visible through the\r
+smoke, and an officer catching sight of Bagration rushed shouting after\r
+the crowd of retreating soldiers, ordering them back. Bagration rode up\r
+to the ranks along which shots crackled now here and now there, drowning\r
+the sound of voices and the shouts of command. The whole air reeked with\r
+smoke. The excited faces of the soldiers were blackened with it. Some\r
+were using their ramrods, others putting powder on the touchpans or\r
+taking charges from their pouches, while others were firing, though who\r
+they were firing at could not be seen for the smoke which there was no\r
+wind to carry away. A pleasant humming and whistling of bullets were\r
+often heard. "What is this?" thought Prince Andrew approaching the crowd\r
+of soldiers. "It can't be an attack, for they are not moving; it can't\r
+be a square--for they are not drawn up for that."\r
+\r
+The commander of the regiment, a thin, feeble-looking old man with a\r
+pleasant smile--his eyelids drooping more than half over his old eyes,\r
+giving him a mild expression, rode up to Bagration and welcomed him as a\r
+host welcomes an honored guest. He reported that his regiment had been\r
+attacked by French cavalry and that, though the attack had been\r
+repulsed, he had lost more than half his men. He said the attack had\r
+been repulsed, employing this military term to describe what had\r
+occurred to his regiment, but in reality he did not himself know what\r
+had happened during that half-hour to the troops entrusted to him, and\r
+could not say with certainty whether the attack had been repulsed or his\r
+regiment had been broken up. All he knew was that at the commencement of\r
+the action balls and shells began flying all over his regiment and\r
+hitting men and that afterwards someone had shouted "Cavalry!" and our\r
+men had begun firing. They were still firing, not at the cavalry which\r
+had disappeared, but at French infantry who had come into the hollow and\r
+were firing at our men. Prince Bagration bowed his head as a sign that\r
+this was exactly what he had desired and expected. Turning to his\r
+adjutant he ordered him to bring down the two battalions of the Sixth\r
+Chasseurs whom they had just passed. Prince Andrew was struck by the\r
+changed expression on Prince Bagration's face at this moment. It\r
+expressed the concentrated and happy resolution you see on the face of a\r
+man who on a hot day takes a final run before plunging into the water.\r
+The dull, sleepy expression was no longer there, nor the affectation of\r
+profound thought. The round, steady, hawk's eyes looked before him\r
+eagerly and rather disdainfully, not resting on anything although his\r
+movements were still slow and measured.\r
+\r
+The commander of the regiment turned to Prince Bagration, entreating him\r
+to go back as it was too dangerous to remain where they were. "Please,\r
+your excellency, for God's sake!" he kept saying, glancing for support\r
+at an officer of the suite who turned away from him. "There, you see!"\r
+and he drew attention to the bullets whistling, singing, and hissing\r
+continually around them. He spoke in the tone of entreaty and reproach\r
+that a carpenter uses to a gentleman who has picked up an ax: "We are\r
+used to it, but you, sir, will blister your hands." He spoke as if those\r
+bullets could not kill him, and his half-closed eyes gave still more\r
+persuasiveness to his words. The staff officer joined in the colonel's\r
+appeals, but Bagration did not reply; he only gave an order to cease\r
+firing and re-form, so as to give room for the two approaching\r
+battalions. While he was speaking, the curtain of smoke that had\r
+concealed the hollow, driven by a rising wind, began to move from right\r
+to left as if drawn by an invisible hand, and the hill opposite, with\r
+the French moving about on it, opened out before them. All eyes fastened\r
+involuntarily on this French column advancing against them and winding\r
+down over the uneven ground. One could already see the soldiers' shaggy\r
+caps, distinguish the officers from the men, and see the standard\r
+flapping against its staff.\r
+\r
+"They march splendidly," remarked someone in Bagration's suite.\r
+\r
+The head of the column had already descended into the hollow. The clash\r
+would take place on this side of it...\r
+\r
+The remains of our regiment which had been in action rapidly formed up\r
+and moved to the right; from behind it, dispersing the laggards, came\r
+two battalions of the Sixth Chasseurs in fine order. Before they had\r
+reached Bagration, the weighty tread of the mass of men marching in step\r
+could be heard. On their left flank, nearest to Bagration, marched a\r
+company commander, a fine round-faced man, with a stupid and happy\r
+expression--the same man who had rushed out of the wattle shed. At that\r
+moment he was clearly thinking of nothing but how dashing a fellow he\r
+would appear as he passed the commander.\r
+\r
+With the self-satisfaction of a man on parade, he stepped lightly with\r
+his muscular legs as if sailing along, stretching himself to his full\r
+height without the smallest effort, his ease contrasting with the heavy\r
+tread of the soldiers who were keeping step with him. He carried close\r
+to his leg a narrow unsheathed sword (small, curved, and not like a real\r
+weapon) and looked now at the superior officers and now back at the men\r
+without losing step, his whole powerful body turning flexibly. It was as\r
+if all the powers of his soul were concentrated on passing the commander\r
+in the best possible manner, and feeling that he was doing it well he\r
+was happy. "Left... left... left..." he seemed to repeat to himself at\r
+each alternate step; and in time to this, with stern but varied faces,\r
+the wall of soldiers burdened with knapsacks and muskets marched in\r
+step, and each one of these hundreds of soldiers seemed to be repeating\r
+to himself at each alternate step, "Left... left... left..." A fat major\r
+skirted a bush, puffing and falling out of step; a soldier who had\r
+fallen behind, his face showing alarm at his defection, ran at a trot,\r
+panting to catch up with his company. A cannon ball, cleaving the air,\r
+flew over the heads of Bagration and his suite, and fell into the column\r
+to the measure of "Left... left!" "Close up!" came the company\r
+commander's voice in jaunty tones. The soldiers passed in a semicircle\r
+round something where the ball had fallen, and an old trooper on the\r
+flank, a noncommissioned officer who had stopped beside the dead men,\r
+ran to catch up his line and, falling into step with a hop, looked back\r
+angrily, and through the ominous silence and the regular tramp of feet\r
+beating the ground in unison, one seemed to hear left... left... left.\r
+\r
+"Well done, lads!" said Prince Bagration.\r
+\r
+"Glad to do our best, your ex'len-lency!" came a confused shout from the\r
+ranks. A morose soldier marching on the left turned his eyes on\r
+Bagration as he shouted, with an expression that seemed to say: "We know\r
+that ourselves!" Another, without looking round, as though fearing to\r
+relax, shouted with his mouth wide open and passed on.\r
+\r
+The order was given to halt and down knapsacks.\r
+\r
+Bagration rode round the ranks that had marched past him and dismounted.\r
+He gave the reins to a Cossack, took off and handed over his felt coat,\r
+stretched his legs, and set his cap straight. The head of the French\r
+column, with its officers leading, appeared from below the hill.\r
+\r
+"Forward, with God!" said Bagration, in a resolute, sonorous voice,\r
+turning for a moment to the front line, and slightly swinging his arms,\r
+he went forward uneasily over the rough field with the awkward gait of a\r
+cavalryman. Prince Andrew felt that an invisible power was leading him\r
+forward, and experienced great happiness.\r
+\r
+The French were already near. Prince Andrew, walking beside Bagration,\r
+could clearly distinguish their bandoliers, red epaulets, and even their\r
+faces. (He distinctly saw an old French officer who, with gaitered legs\r
+and turned-out toes, climbed the hill with difficulty.) Prince Bagration\r
+gave no further orders and silently continued to walk on in front of the\r
+ranks. Suddenly one shot after another rang out from the French, smoke\r
+appeared all along their uneven ranks, and musket shots sounded. Several\r
+of our men fell, among them the round-faced officer who had marched so\r
+gaily and complacently. But at the moment the first report was heard,\r
+Bagration looked round and shouted, "Hurrah!"\r
+\r
+"Hurrah--ah!--ah!" rang a long-drawn shout from our ranks, and passing\r
+Bagration and racing one another they rushed in an irregular but joyous\r
+and eager crowd down the hill at their disordered foe.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIX\r
+\r
+The attack of the Sixth Chasseurs secured the retreat of our right\r
+flank. In the center Tushin's forgotten battery, which had managed to\r
+set fire to the Schon Grabern village, delayed the French advance. The\r
+French were putting out the fire which the wind was spreading, and thus\r
+gave us time to retreat. The retirement of the center to the other side\r
+of the dip in the ground at the rear was hurried and noisy, but the\r
+different companies did not get mixed. But our left--which consisted of\r
+the Azov and Podolsk infantry and the Pavlograd hussars--was\r
+simultaneously attacked and outflanked by superior French forces under\r
+Lannes and was thrown into confusion. Bagration had sent Zherkov to the\r
+general commanding that left flank with orders to retreat immediately.\r
+\r
+Zherkov, not removing his hand from his cap, turned his horse about and\r
+galloped off. But no sooner had he left Bagration than his courage\r
+failed him. He was seized by panic and could not go where it was\r
+dangerous.\r
+\r
+Having reached the left flank, instead of going to the front where the\r
+firing was, he began to look for the general and his staff where they\r
+could not possibly be, and so did not deliver the order.\r
+\r
+The command of the left flank belonged by seniority to the commander of\r
+the regiment Kutuzov had reviewed at Braunau and in which Dolokhov was\r
+serving as a private. But the command of the extreme left flank had been\r
+assigned to the commander of the Pavlograd regiment in which Rostov was\r
+serving, and a misunderstanding arose. The two commanders were much\r
+exasperated with one another and, long after the action had begun on the\r
+right flank and the French were already advancing, were engaged in\r
+discussion with the sole object of offending one another. But the\r
+regiments, both cavalry and infantry, were by no means ready for the\r
+impending action. From privates to general they were not expecting a\r
+battle and were engaged in peaceful occupations, the cavalry feeding the\r
+horses and the infantry collecting wood.\r
+\r
+"He higher iss dan I in rank," said the German colonel of the hussars,\r
+flushing and addressing an adjutant who had ridden up, "so let him do\r
+what he vill, but I cannot sacrifice my hussars... Bugler, sount ze\r
+retreat!"\r
+\r
+But haste was becoming imperative. Cannon and musketry, mingling\r
+together, thundered on the right and in the center, while the capotes of\r
+Lannes' sharpshooters were already seen crossing the milldam and forming\r
+up within twice the range of a musket shot. The general in command of\r
+the infantry went toward his horse with jerky steps, and having mounted\r
+drew himself up very straight and tall and rode to the Pavlograd\r
+commander. The commanders met with polite bows but with secret\r
+malevolence in their hearts.\r
+\r
+"Once again, Colonel," said the general, "I can't leave half my men in\r
+the wood. I beg of you, I beg of you," he repeated, "to occupy the\r
+position and prepare for an attack."\r
+\r
+"I peg of you yourself not to mix in vot is not your business!" suddenly\r
+replied the irate colonel. "If you vere in the cavalry..."\r
+\r
+"I am not in the cavalry, Colonel, but I am a Russian general and if you\r
+are not aware of the fact..."\r
+\r
+"Quite avare, your excellency," suddenly shouted the colonel, touching\r
+his horse and turning purple in the face. "Vill you be so goot to come\r
+to ze front and see dat zis position iss no goot? I don't vish to\r
+destroy my men for your pleasure!"\r
+\r
+"You forget yourself, Colonel. I am not considering my own pleasure and\r
+I won't allow it to be said!"\r
+\r
+Taking the colonel's outburst as a challenge to his courage, the general\r
+expanded his chest and rode, frowning, beside him to the front line, as\r
+if their differences would be settled there amongst the bullets. They\r
+reached the front, several bullets sped over them, and they halted in\r
+silence. There was nothing fresh to be seen from the line, for from\r
+where they had been before it had been evident that it was impossible\r
+for cavalry to act among the bushes and broken ground, as well as that\r
+the French were outflanking our left. The general and colonel looked\r
+sternly and significantly at one another like two fighting cocks\r
+preparing for battle, each vainly trying to detect signs of cowardice in\r
+the other. Both passed the examination successfully. As there was\r
+nothing to be said, and neither wished to give occasion for it to be\r
+alleged that he had been the first to leave the range of fire, they\r
+would have remained there for a long time testing each other's courage\r
+had it not been that just then they heard the rattle of musketry and a\r
+muffled shout almost behind them in the wood. The French had attacked\r
+the men collecting wood in the copse. It was no longer possible for the\r
+hussars to retreat with the infantry. They were cut off from the line of\r
+retreat on the left by the French. However inconvenient the position, it\r
+was now necessary to attack in order to cut a way through for\r
+themselves.\r
+\r
+The squadron in which Rostov was serving had scarcely time to mount\r
+before it was halted facing the enemy. Again, as at the Enns bridge,\r
+there was nothing between the squadron and the enemy, and again that\r
+terrible dividing line of uncertainty and fear--resembling the line\r
+separating the living from the dead--lay between them. All were\r
+conscious of this unseen line, and the question whether they would cross\r
+it or not, and how they would cross it, agitated them all.\r
+\r
+The colonel rode to the front, angrily gave some reply to questions put\r
+to him by the officers, and, like a man desperately insisting on having\r
+his own way, gave an order. No one said anything definite, but the rumor\r
+of an attack spread through the squadron. The command to form up rang\r
+out and the sabers whizzed as they were drawn from their scabbards.\r
+Still no one moved. The troops of the left flank, infantry and hussars\r
+alike, felt that the commander did not himself know what to do, and this\r
+irresolution communicated itself to the men.\r
+\r
+"If only they would be quick!" thought Rostov, feeling that at last the\r
+time had come to experience the joy of an attack of which he had so\r
+often heard from his fellow hussars.\r
+\r
+"Fo'ward, with God, lads!" rang out Denisov's voice. "At a twot\r
+fo'ward!"\r
+\r
+The horses' croups began to sway in the front line. Rook pulled at the\r
+reins and started of his own accord.\r
+\r
+Before him, on the right, Rostov saw the front lines of his hussars and\r
+still farther ahead a dark line which he could not see distinctly but\r
+took to be the enemy. Shots could be heard, but some way off.\r
+\r
+"Faster!" came the word of command, and Rostov felt Rook's flanks\r
+drooping as he broke into a gallop.\r
+\r
+Rostov anticipated his horse's movements and became more and more\r
+elated. He had noticed a solitary tree ahead of him. This tree had been\r
+in the middle of the line that had seemed so terrible--and now he had\r
+crossed that line and not only was there nothing terrible, but\r
+everything was becoming more and more happy and animated. "Oh, how I\r
+will slash at him!" thought Rostov, gripping the hilt of his saber.\r
+\r
+"Hur-a-a-a-ah!" came a roar of voices. "Let anyone come my way now,"\r
+thought Rostov driving his spurs into Rook and letting him go at a full\r
+gallop so that he outstripped the others. Ahead, the enemy was already\r
+visible. Suddenly something like a birch broom seemed to sweep over the\r
+squadron. Rostov raised his saber, ready to strike, but at that instant\r
+the trooper Nikitenko, who was galloping ahead, shot away from him, and\r
+Rostov felt as in a dream that he continued to be carried forward with\r
+unnatural speed but yet stayed on the same spot. From behind him\r
+Bondarchuk, an hussar he knew, jolted against him and looked angrily at\r
+him. Bondarchuk's horse swerved and galloped past.\r
+\r
+"How is it I am not moving? I have fallen, I am killed!" Rostov asked\r
+and answered at the same instant. He was alone in the middle of a field.\r
+Instead of the moving horses and hussars' backs, he saw nothing before\r
+him but the motionless earth and the stubble around him. There was warm\r
+blood under his arm. "No, I am wounded and the horse is killed." Rook\r
+tried to rise on his forelegs but fell back, pinning his rider's leg.\r
+Blood was flowing from his head; he struggled but could not rise. Rostov\r
+also tried to rise but fell back, his sabretache having become entangled\r
+in the saddle. Where our men were, and where the French, he did not\r
+know. There was no one near.\r
+\r
+Having disentangled his leg, he rose. "Where, on which side, was now the\r
+line that had so sharply divided the two armies?" he asked himself and\r
+could not answer. "Can something bad have happened to me?" he wondered\r
+as he got up: and at that moment he felt that something superfluous was\r
+hanging on his benumbed left arm. The wrist felt as if it were not his.\r
+He examined his hand carefully, vainly trying to find blood on it. "Ah,\r
+here are people coming," he thought joyfully, seeing some men running\r
+toward him. "They will help me!" In front came a man wearing a strange\r
+shako and a blue cloak, swarthy, sunburned, and with a hooked nose. Then\r
+came two more, and many more running behind. One of them said something\r
+strange, not in Russian. In among the hindmost of these men wearing\r
+similar shakos was a Russian hussar. He was being held by the arms and\r
+his horse was being led behind him.\r
+\r
+"It must be one of ours, a prisoner. Yes. Can it be that they will take\r
+me too? Who are these men?" thought Rostov, scarcely believing his eyes.\r
+"Can they be French?" He looked at the approaching Frenchmen, and though\r
+but a moment before he had been galloping to get at them and hack them\r
+to pieces, their proximity now seemed so awful that he could not believe\r
+his eyes. "Who are they? Why are they running? Can they be coming at me?\r
+And why? To kill me? Me whom everyone is so fond of?" He remembered his\r
+mother's love for him, and his family's, and his friends', and the\r
+enemy's intention to kill him seemed impossible. "But perhaps they may\r
+do it!" For more than ten seconds he stood not moving from the spot or\r
+realizing the situation. The foremost Frenchman, the one with the hooked\r
+nose, was already so close that the expression of his face could be\r
+seen. And the excited, alien face of that man, his bayonet hanging down,\r
+holding his breath, and running so lightly, frightened Rostov. He seized\r
+his pistol and, instead of firing it, flung it at the Frenchman and ran\r
+with all his might toward the bushes. He did not now run with the\r
+feeling of doubt and conflict with which he had trodden the Enns bridge,\r
+but with the feeling of a hare fleeing from the hounds. One single\r
+sentiment, that of fear for his young and happy life, possessed his\r
+whole being. Rapidly leaping the furrows, he fled across the field with\r
+the impetuosity he used to show at catchplay, now and then turning his\r
+good-natured, pale, young face to look back. A shudder of terror went\r
+through him: "No, better not look," he thought, but having reached the\r
+bushes he glanced round once more. The French had fallen behind, and\r
+just as he looked round the first man changed his run to a walk and,\r
+turning, shouted something loudly to a comrade farther back. Rostov\r
+paused. "No, there's some mistake," thought he. "They can't have wanted\r
+to kill me." But at the same time, his left arm felt as heavy as if a\r
+seventy-pound weight were tied to it. He could run no more. The\r
+Frenchman also stopped and took aim. Rostov closed his eyes and stooped\r
+down. One bullet and then another whistled past him. He mustered his\r
+last remaining strength, took hold of his left hand with his right, and\r
+reached the bushes. Behind these were some Russian sharpshooters.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XX\r
+\r
+The infantry regiments that had been caught unawares in the outskirts of\r
+the wood ran out of it, the different companies getting mixed, and\r
+retreated as a disorderly crowd. One soldier, in his fear, uttered the\r
+senseless cry, "Cut off!" that is so terrible in battle, and that word\r
+infected the whole crowd with a feeling of panic.\r
+\r
+"Surrounded! Cut off? We're lost!" shouted the fugitives.\r
+\r
+The moment he heard the firing and the cry from behind, the general\r
+realized that something dreadful had happened to his regiment, and the\r
+thought that he, an exemplary officer of many years' service who had\r
+never been to blame, might be held responsible at headquarters for\r
+negligence or inefficiency so staggered him that, forgetting the\r
+recalcitrant cavalry colonel, his own dignity as a general, and above\r
+all quite forgetting the danger and all regard for self-preservation, he\r
+clutched the crupper of his saddle and, spurring his horse, galloped to\r
+the regiment under a hail of bullets which fell around, but fortunately\r
+missed him. His one desire was to know what was happening and at any\r
+cost correct, or remedy, the mistake if he had made one, so that he, an\r
+exemplary officer of twenty-two years' service, who had never been\r
+censured, should not be held to blame.\r
+\r
+Having galloped safely through the French, he reached a field behind the\r
+copse across which our men, regardless of orders, were running and\r
+descending the valley. That moment of moral hesitation which decides the\r
+fate of battles had arrived. Would this disorderly crowd of soldiers\r
+attend to the voice of their commander, or would they, disregarding him,\r
+continue their flight? Despite his desperate shouts that used to seem so\r
+terrible to the soldiers, despite his furious purple countenance\r
+distorted out of all likeness to his former self, and the flourishing of\r
+his saber, the soldiers all continued to run, talking, firing into the\r
+air, and disobeying orders. The moral hesitation which decided the fate\r
+of battles was evidently culminating in a panic.\r
+\r
+The general had a fit of coughing as a result of shouting and of the\r
+powder smoke and stopped in despair. Everything seemed lost. But at that\r
+moment the French who were attacking, suddenly and without any apparent\r
+reason, ran back and disappeared from the outskirts, and Russian\r
+sharpshooters showed themselves in the copse. It was Timokhin's company,\r
+which alone had maintained its order in the wood and, having lain in\r
+ambush in a ditch, now attacked the French unexpectedly. Timokhin, armed\r
+only with a sword, had rushed at the enemy with such a desperate cry and\r
+such mad, drunken determination that, taken by surprise, the French had\r
+thrown down their muskets and run. Dolokhov, running beside Timokhin,\r
+killed a Frenchman at close quarters and was the first to seize the\r
+surrendering French officer by his collar. Our fugitives returned, the\r
+battalions re-formed, and the French who had nearly cut our left flank\r
+in half were for the moment repulsed. Our reserve units were able to\r
+join up, and the fight was at an end. The regimental commander and Major\r
+Ekonomov had stopped beside a bridge, letting the retreating companies\r
+pass by them, when a soldier came up and took hold of the commander's\r
+stirrup, almost leaning against him. The man was wearing a bluish coat\r
+of broadcloth, he had no knapsack or cap, his head was bandaged, and\r
+over his shoulder a French munition pouch was slung. He had an officer's\r
+sword in his hand. The soldier was pale, his blue eyes looked impudently\r
+into the commander's face, and his lips were smiling. Though the\r
+commander was occupied in giving instructions to Major Ekonomov, he\r
+could not help taking notice of the soldier.\r
+\r
+"Your excellency, here are two trophies," said Dolokhov, pointing to the\r
+French sword and pouch. "I have taken an officer prisoner. I stopped the\r
+company." Dolokhov breathed heavily from weariness and spoke in abrupt\r
+sentences. "The whole company can bear witness. I beg you will remember\r
+this, your excellency!"\r
+\r
+"All right, all right," replied the commander, and turned to Major\r
+Ekonomov.\r
+\r
+But Dolokhov did not go away; he untied the handkerchief around his\r
+head, pulled it off, and showed the blood congealed on his hair.\r
+\r
+"A bayonet wound. I remained at the front. Remember, your excellency!"\r
+\r
+Tushin's battery had been forgotten and only at the very end of the\r
+action did Prince Bagration, still hearing the cannonade in the center,\r
+send his orderly staff officer, and later Prince Andrew also, to order\r
+the battery to retire as quickly as possible. When the supports attached\r
+to Tushin's battery had been moved away in the middle of the action by\r
+someone's order, the battery had continued firing and was only not\r
+captured by the French because the enemy could not surmise that anyone\r
+could have the effrontery to continue firing from four quite undefended\r
+guns. On the contrary, the energetic action of that battery led the\r
+French to suppose that here--in the center--the main Russian forces were\r
+concentrated. Twice they had attempted to attack this point, but on each\r
+occasion had been driven back by grapeshot from the four isolated guns\r
+on the hillock.\r
+\r
+Soon after Prince Bagration had left him, Tushin had succeeded in\r
+setting fire to Schon Grabern.\r
+\r
+"Look at them scurrying! It's burning! Just see the smoke! Fine! Grand!\r
+Look at the smoke, the smoke!" exclaimed the artillerymen, brightening\r
+up.\r
+\r
+All the guns, without waiting for orders, were being fired in the\r
+direction of the conflagration. As if urging each other on, the soldiers\r
+cried at each shot: "Fine! That's good! Look at it... Grand!" The fire,\r
+fanned by the breeze, was rapidly spreading. The French columns that had\r
+advanced beyond the village went back; but as though in revenge for this\r
+failure, the enemy placed ten guns to the right of the village and began\r
+firing them at Tushin's battery.\r
+\r
+In their childlike glee, aroused by the fire and their luck in\r
+successfully cannonading the French, our artillerymen only noticed this\r
+battery when two balls, and then four more, fell among our guns, one\r
+knocking over two horses and another tearing off a munition-wagon\r
+driver's leg. Their spirits once roused were, however, not diminished,\r
+but only changed character. The horses were replaced by others from a\r
+reserve gun carriage, the wounded were carried away, and the four guns\r
+were turned against the ten-gun battery. Tushin's companion officer had\r
+been killed at the beginning of the engagement and within an hour\r
+seventeen of the forty men of the guns' crews had been disabled, but the\r
+artillerymen were still as merry and lively as ever. Twice they noticed\r
+the French appearing below them, and then they fired grapeshot at them.\r
+\r
+Little Tushin, moving feebly and awkwardly, kept telling his orderly to\r
+"refill my pipe for that one!" and then, scattering sparks from it, ran\r
+forward shading his eyes with his small hand to look at the French.\r
+\r
+"Smack at 'em, lads!" he kept saying, seizing the guns by the wheels and\r
+working the screws himself.\r
+\r
+Amid the smoke, deafened by the incessant reports which always made him\r
+jump, Tushin not taking his pipe from his mouth ran from gun to gun, now\r
+aiming, now counting the charges, now giving orders about replacing dead\r
+or wounded horses and harnessing fresh ones, and shouting in his feeble\r
+voice, so high pitched and irresolute. His face grew more and more\r
+animated. Only when a man was killed or wounded did he frown and turn\r
+away from the sight, shouting angrily at the men who, as is always the\r
+case, hesitated about lifting the injured or dead. The soldiers, for the\r
+most part handsome fellows and, as is always the case in an artillery\r
+company, a head and shoulders taller and twice as broad as their\r
+officer--all looked at their commander like children in an embarrassing\r
+situation, and the expression on his face was invariably reflected on\r
+theirs.\r
+\r
+Owing to the terrible uproar and the necessity for concentration and\r
+activity, Tushin did not experience the slightest unpleasant sense of\r
+fear, and the thought that he might be killed or badly wounded never\r
+occurred to him. On the contrary, he became more and more elated. It\r
+seemed to him that it was a very long time ago, almost a day, since he\r
+had first seen the enemy and fired the first shot, and that the corner\r
+of the field he stood on was well-known and familiar ground. Though he\r
+thought of everything, considered everything, and did everything the\r
+best of officers could do in his position, he was in a state akin to\r
+feverish delirium or drunkenness.\r
+\r
+From the deafening sounds of his own guns around him, the whistle and\r
+thud of the enemy's cannon balls, from the flushed and perspiring faces\r
+of the crew bustling round the guns, from the sight of the blood of men\r
+and horses, from the little puffs of smoke on the enemy's side (always\r
+followed by a ball flying past and striking the earth, a man, a gun, a\r
+horse), from the sight of all these things a fantastic world of his own\r
+had taken possession of his brain and at that moment afforded him\r
+pleasure. The enemy's guns were in his fancy not guns but pipes from\r
+which occasional puffs were blown by an invisible smoker.\r
+\r
+"There... he's puffing again," muttered Tushin to himself, as a small\r
+cloud rose from the hill and was borne in a streak to the left by the\r
+wind.\r
+\r
+"Now look out for the ball... we'll throw it back."\r
+\r
+"What do you want, your honor?" asked an artilleryman, standing close\r
+by, who heard him muttering.\r
+\r
+"Nothing... only a shell..." he answered.\r
+\r
+"Come along, our Matvevna!" he said to himself. "Matvevna" * was the\r
+name his fancy gave to the farthest gun of the battery, which was large\r
+and of an old pattern. The French swarming round their guns seemed to\r
+him like ants. In that world, the handsome drunkard Number One of the\r
+second gun's crew was "uncle"; Tushin looked at him more often than at\r
+anyone else and took delight in his every movement. The sound of\r
+musketry at the foot of the hill, now diminishing, now increasing,\r
+seemed like someone's breathing. He listened intently to the ebb and\r
+flow of these sounds.\r
+\r
+\r
+* Daughter of Matthew.\r
+\r
+"Ah! Breathing again, breathing!" he muttered to himself.\r
+\r
+He imagined himself as an enormously tall, powerful man who was throwing\r
+cannon balls at the French with both hands.\r
+\r
+"Now then, Matvevna, dear old lady, don't let me down!" he was saying as\r
+he moved from the gun, when a strange, unfamiliar voice called above his\r
+head: "Captain Tushin! Captain!"\r
+\r
+Tushin turned round in dismay. It was the staff officer who had turned\r
+him out of the booth at Grunth. He was shouting in a gasping voice:\r
+\r
+"Are you mad? You have twice been ordered to retreat, and you..."\r
+\r
+"Why are they down on me?" thought Tushin, looking in alarm at his\r
+superior.\r
+\r
+"I... don't..." he muttered, holding up two fingers to his cap. "I..."\r
+\r
+But the staff officer did not finish what he wanted to say. A cannon\r
+ball, flying close to him, caused him to duck and bend over his horse.\r
+He paused, and just as he was about to say something more, another ball\r
+stopped him. He turned his horse and galloped off.\r
+\r
+"Retire! All to retire!" he shouted from a distance.\r
+\r
+The soldiers laughed. A moment later, an adjutant arrived with the same\r
+order.\r
+\r
+It was Prince Andrew. The first thing he saw on riding up to the space\r
+where Tushin's guns were stationed was an unharnessed horse with a\r
+broken leg, that lay screaming piteously beside the harnessed horses.\r
+Blood was gushing from its leg as from a spring. Among the limbers lay\r
+several dead men. One ball after another passed over as he approached\r
+and he felt a nervous shudder run down his spine. But the mere thought\r
+of being afraid roused him again. "I cannot be afraid," thought he, and\r
+dismounted slowly among the guns. He delivered the order and did not\r
+leave the battery. He decided to have the guns removed from their\r
+positions and withdrawn in his presence. Together with Tushin, stepping\r
+across the bodies and under a terrible fire from the French, he attended\r
+to the removal of the guns.\r
+\r
+"A staff officer was here a minute ago, but skipped off," said an\r
+artilleryman to Prince Andrew. "Not like your honor!"\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew said nothing to Tushin. They were both so busy as to seem\r
+not to notice one another. When having limbered up the only two cannon\r
+that remained uninjured out of the four, they began moving down the hill\r
+(one shattered gun and one unicorn were left behind), Prince Andrew rode\r
+up to Tushin.\r
+\r
+"Well, till we meet again..." he said, holding out his hand to Tushin.\r
+\r
+"Good-bye, my dear fellow," said Tushin. "Dear soul! Good-bye, my dear\r
+fellow!" and for some unknown reason tears suddenly filled his eyes.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXI\r
+\r
+The wind had fallen and black clouds, merging with the powder smoke,\r
+hung low over the field of battle on the horizon. It was growing dark\r
+and the glow of two conflagrations was the more conspicuous. The\r
+cannonade was dying down, but the rattle of musketry behind and on the\r
+right sounded oftener and nearer. As soon as Tushin with his guns,\r
+continually driving round or coming upon wounded men, was out of range\r
+of fire and had descended into the dip, he was met by some of the staff,\r
+among them the staff officer and Zherkov, who had been twice sent to\r
+Tushin's battery but had never reached it. Interrupting one another,\r
+they all gave, and transmitted, orders as to how to proceed,\r
+reprimanding and reproaching him. Tushin gave no orders, and, silently--\r
+fearing to speak because at every word he felt ready to weep without\r
+knowing why--rode behind on his artillery nag. Though the orders were to\r
+abandon the wounded, many of them dragged themselves after troops and\r
+begged for seats on the gun carriages. The jaunty infantry officer who\r
+just before the battle had rushed out of Tushin's wattle shed was laid,\r
+with a bullet in his stomach, on "Matvevna's" carriage. At the foot of\r
+the hill, a pale hussar cadet, supporting one hand with the other, came\r
+up to Tushin and asked for a seat.\r
+\r
+"Captain, for God's sake! I've hurt my arm," he said timidly. "For God's\r
+sake... I can't walk. For God's sake!"\r
+\r
+It was plain that this cadet had already repeatedly asked for a lift and\r
+been refused. He asked in a hesitating, piteous voice.\r
+\r
+"Tell them to give me a seat, for God's sake!"\r
+\r
+"Give him a seat," said Tushin. "Lay a cloak for him to sit on, lad," he\r
+said, addressing his favorite soldier. "And where is the wounded\r
+officer?"\r
+\r
+"He has been set down. He died," replied someone.\r
+\r
+"Help him up. Sit down, dear fellow, sit down! Spread out the cloak,\r
+Antonov."\r
+\r
+The cadet was Rostov. With one hand he supported the other; he was pale\r
+and his jaw trembled, shivering feverishly. He was placed on "Matvevna,"\r
+the gun from which they had removed the dead officer. The cloak they\r
+spread under him was wet with blood which stained his breeches and arm.\r
+\r
+"What, are you wounded, my lad?" said Tushin, approaching the gun on\r
+which Rostov sat.\r
+\r
+"No, it's a sprain."\r
+\r
+"Then what is this blood on the gun carriage?" inquired Tushin.\r
+\r
+"It was the officer, your honor, stained it," answered the artilleryman,\r
+wiping away the blood with his coat sleeve, as if apologizing for the\r
+state of his gun.\r
+\r
+It was all that they could do to get the guns up the rise aided by the\r
+infantry, and having reached the village of Gruntersdorf they halted. It\r
+had grown so dark that one could not distinguish the uniforms ten paces\r
+off, and the firing had begun to subside. Suddenly, near by on the\r
+right, shouting and firing were again heard. Flashes of shot gleamed in\r
+the darkness. This was the last French attack and was met by soldiers\r
+who had sheltered in the village houses. They all rushed out of the\r
+village again, but Tushin's guns could not move, and the artillerymen,\r
+Tushin, and the cadet exchanged silent glances as they awaited their\r
+fate. The firing died down and soldiers, talking eagerly, streamed out\r
+of a side street.\r
+\r
+"Not hurt, Petrov?" asked one.\r
+\r
+"We've given it 'em hot, mate! They won't make another push now," said\r
+another.\r
+\r
+"You couldn't see a thing. How they shot at their own fellows! Nothing\r
+could be seen. Pitch-dark, brother! Isn't there something to drink?"\r
+\r
+The French had been repulsed for the last time. And again and again in\r
+the complete darkness Tushin's guns moved forward, surrounded by the\r
+humming infantry as by a frame.\r
+\r
+In the darkness, it seemed as though a gloomy unseen river was flowing\r
+always in one direction, humming with whispers and talk and the sound of\r
+hoofs and wheels. Amid the general rumble, the groans and voices of the\r
+wounded were more distinctly heard than any other sound in the darkness\r
+of the night. The gloom that enveloped the army was filled with their\r
+groans, which seemed to melt into one with the darkness of the night.\r
+After a while the moving mass became agitated, someone rode past on a\r
+white horse followed by his suite, and said something in passing: "What\r
+did he say? Where to, now? Halt, is it? Did he thank us?" came eager\r
+questions from all sides. The whole moving mass began pressing closer\r
+together and a report spread that they were ordered to halt: evidently\r
+those in front had halted. All remained where they were in the middle of\r
+the muddy road.\r
+\r
+Fires were lighted and the talk became more audible. Captain Tushin,\r
+having given orders to his company, sent a soldier to find a dressing\r
+station or a doctor for the cadet, and sat down by a bonfire the\r
+soldiers had kindled on the road. Rostov, too, dragged himself to the\r
+fire. From pain, cold, and damp, a feverish shivering shook his whole\r
+body. Drowsiness was irresistibly mastering him, but he kept awake by an\r
+excruciating pain in his arm, for which he could find no satisfactory\r
+position. He kept closing his eyes and then again looking at the fire,\r
+which seemed to him dazzlingly red, and at the feeble, round-shouldered\r
+figure of Tushin who was sitting cross-legged like a Turk beside him.\r
+Tushin's large, kind, intelligent eyes were fixed with sympathy and\r
+commiseration on Rostov, who saw that Tushin with his whole heart wished\r
+to help him but could not.\r
+\r
+From all sides were heard the footsteps and talk of the infantry, who\r
+were walking, driving past, and settling down all around. The sound of\r
+voices, the tramping feet, the horses' hoofs moving in mud, the\r
+crackling of wood fires near and afar, merged into one tremulous rumble.\r
+\r
+It was no longer, as before, a dark, unseen river flowing through the\r
+gloom, but a dark sea swelling and gradually subsiding after a storm.\r
+Rostov looked at and listened listlessly to what passed before and\r
+around him. An infantryman came to the fire, squatted on his heels, held\r
+his hands to the blaze, and turned away his face.\r
+\r
+"You don't mind your honor?" he asked Tushin. "I've lost my company,\r
+your honor. I don't know where... such bad luck!"\r
+\r
+With the soldier, an infantry officer with a bandaged cheek came up to\r
+the bonfire, and addressing Tushin asked him to have the guns moved a\r
+trifle to let a wagon go past. After he had gone, two soldiers rushed to\r
+the campfire. They were quarreling and fighting desperately, each trying\r
+to snatch from the other a boot they were both holding on to.\r
+\r
+"You picked it up?... I dare say! You're very smart!" one of them\r
+shouted hoarsely.\r
+\r
+Then a thin, pale soldier, his neck bandaged with a bloodstained leg\r
+band, came up and in angry tones asked the artillerymen for water.\r
+\r
+"Must one die like a dog?" said he.\r
+\r
+Tushin told them to give the man some water. Then a cheerful soldier ran\r
+up, begging a little fire for the infantry.\r
+\r
+"A nice little hot torch for the infantry! Good luck to you, fellow\r
+countrymen. Thanks for the fire--we'll return it with interest," said\r
+he, carrying away into the darkness a glowing stick.\r
+\r
+Next came four soldiers, carrying something heavy on a cloak, and passed\r
+by the fire. One of them stumbled.\r
+\r
+"Who the devil has put the logs on the road?" snarled he.\r
+\r
+"He's dead--why carry him?" said another.\r
+\r
+"Shut up!"\r
+\r
+And they disappeared into the darkness with their load.\r
+\r
+"Still aching?" Tushin asked Rostov in a whisper.\r
+\r
+"Yes."\r
+\r
+"Your honor, you're wanted by the general. He is in the hut here," said\r
+a gunner, coming up to Tushin.\r
+\r
+"Coming, friend."\r
+\r
+Tushin rose and, buttoning his greatcoat and pulling it straight, walked\r
+away from the fire.\r
+\r
+Not far from the artillery campfire, in a hut that had been prepared for\r
+him, Prince Bagration sat at dinner, talking with some commanding\r
+officers who had gathered at his quarters. The little old man with the\r
+half-closed eyes was there greedily gnawing a mutton bone, and the\r
+general who had served blamelessly for twenty-two years, flushed by a\r
+glass of vodka and the dinner; and the staff officer with the signet\r
+ring, and Zherkov, uneasily glancing at them all, and Prince Andrew,\r
+pale, with compressed lips and feverishly glittering eyes.\r
+\r
+In a corner of the hut stood a standard captured from the French, and\r
+the accountant with the naive face was feeling its texture, shaking his\r
+head in perplexity--perhaps because the banner really interested him,\r
+perhaps because it was hard for him, hungry as he was, to look on at a\r
+dinner where there was no place for him. In the next hut there was a\r
+French colonel who had been taken prisoner by our dragoons. Our officers\r
+were flocking in to look at him. Prince Bagration was thanking the\r
+individual commanders and inquiring into details of the action and our\r
+losses. The general whose regiment had been inspected at Braunau was\r
+informing the prince that as soon as the action began he had withdrawn\r
+from the wood, mustered the men who were woodcutting, and, allowing the\r
+French to pass him, had made a bayonet charge with two battalions and\r
+had broken up the French troops.\r
+\r
+"When I saw, your excellency, that their first battalion was\r
+disorganized, I stopped in the road and thought: 'I'll let them come on\r
+and will meet them with the fire of the whole battalion'--and that's\r
+what I did."\r
+\r
+The general had so wished to do this and was so sorry he had not managed\r
+to do it that it seemed to him as if it had really happened. Perhaps it\r
+might really have been so? Could one possibly make out amid all that\r
+confusion what did or did not happen?\r
+\r
+"By the way, your excellency, I should inform you," he continued--\r
+remembering Dolokhov's conversation with Kutuzov and his last interview\r
+with the gentleman-ranker--"that Private Dolokhov, who was reduced to\r
+the ranks, took a French officer prisoner in my presence and\r
+particularly distinguished himself."\r
+\r
+"I saw the Pavlograd hussars attack there, your excellency," chimed in\r
+Zherkov, looking uneasily around. He had not seen the hussars all that\r
+day, but had heard about them from an infantry officer. "They broke up\r
+two squares, your excellency."\r
+\r
+Several of those present smiled at Zherkov's words, expecting one of his\r
+usual jokes, but noticing that what he was saying redounded to the glory\r
+of our arms and of the day's work, they assumed a serious expression,\r
+though many of them knew that what he was saying was a lie devoid of any\r
+foundation. Prince Bagration turned to the old colonel:\r
+\r
+"Gentlemen, I thank you all; all arms have behaved heroically: infantry,\r
+cavalry, and artillery. How was it that two guns were abandoned in the\r
+center?" he inquired, searching with his eyes for someone. (Prince\r
+Bagration did not ask about the guns on the left flank; he knew that all\r
+the guns there had been abandoned at the very beginning of the action.)\r
+"I think I sent you?" he added, turning to the staff officer on duty.\r
+\r
+"One was damaged," answered the staff officer, "and the other I can't\r
+understand. I was there all the time giving orders and had only just\r
+left.... It is true that it was hot there," he added, modestly.\r
+\r
+Someone mentioned that Captain Tushin was bivouacking close to the\r
+village and had already been sent for.\r
+\r
+"Oh, but you were there?" said Prince Bagration, addressing Prince\r
+Andrew.\r
+\r
+"Of course, we only just missed one another," said the staff officer,\r
+with a smile to Bolkonski.\r
+\r
+"I had not the pleasure of seeing you," said Prince Andrew, coldly and\r
+abruptly.\r
+\r
+All were silent. Tushin appeared at the threshold and made his way\r
+timidly from behind the backs of the generals. As he stepped past the\r
+generals in the crowded hut, feeling embarrassed as he always was by the\r
+sight of his superiors, he did not notice the staff of the banner and\r
+stumbled over it. Several of those present laughed.\r
+\r
+"How was it a gun was abandoned?" asked Bagration, frowning, not so much\r
+at the captain as at those who were laughing, among whom Zherkov laughed\r
+loudest.\r
+\r
+Only now, when he was confronted by the stern authorities, did his guilt\r
+and the disgrace of having lost two guns and yet remaining alive present\r
+themselves to Tushin in all their horror. He had been so excited that he\r
+had not thought about it until that moment. The officers' laughter\r
+confused him still more. He stood before Bagration with his lower jaw\r
+trembling and was hardly able to mutter: "I don't know... your\r
+excellency... I had no men... your excellency."\r
+\r
+"You might have taken some from the covering troops."\r
+\r
+Tushin did not say that there were no covering troops, though that was\r
+perfectly true. He was afraid of getting some other officer into\r
+trouble, and silently fixed his eyes on Bagration as a schoolboy who has\r
+blundered looks at an examiner.\r
+\r
+The silence lasted some time. Prince Bagration, apparently not wishing\r
+to be severe, found nothing to say; the others did not venture to\r
+intervene. Prince Andrew looked at Tushin from under his brows and his\r
+fingers twitched nervously.\r
+\r
+"Your excellency!" Prince Andrew broke the silence with his abrupt\r
+voice, "you were pleased to send me to Captain Tushin's battery. I went\r
+there and found two thirds of the men and horses knocked out, two guns\r
+smashed, and no supports at all."\r
+\r
+Prince Bagration and Tushin looked with equal intentness at Bolkonski,\r
+who spoke with suppressed agitation.\r
+\r
+"And, if your excellency will allow me to express my opinion," he\r
+continued, "we owe today's success chiefly to the action of that battery\r
+and the heroic endurance of Captain Tushin and his company," and without\r
+awaiting a reply, Prince Andrew rose and left the table.\r
+\r
+Prince Bagration looked at Tushin, evidently reluctant to show distrust\r
+in Bolkonski's emphatic opinion yet not feeling able fully to credit it,\r
+bent his head, and told Tushin that he could go. Prince Andrew went out\r
+with him.\r
+\r
+"Thank you; you saved me, my dear fellow!" said Tushin.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew gave him a look, but said nothing and went away. He felt\r
+sad and depressed. It was all so strange, so unlike what he had hoped.\r
+\r
+"Who are they? Why are they here? What do they want? And when will all\r
+this end?" thought Rostov, looking at the changing shadows before him.\r
+The pain in his arm became more and more intense. Irresistible\r
+drowsiness overpowered him, red rings danced before his eyes, and the\r
+impression of those voices and faces and a sense of loneliness merged\r
+with the physical pain. It was they, these soldiers--wounded and\r
+unwounded--it was they who were crushing, weighing down, and twisting\r
+the sinews and scorching the flesh of his sprained arm and shoulder. To\r
+rid himself of them he closed his eyes.\r
+\r
+For a moment he dozed, but in that short interval innumerable things\r
+appeared to him in a dream: his mother and her large white hand, Sonya's\r
+thin little shoulders, Natasha's eyes and laughter, Denisov with his\r
+voice and mustache, and Telyanin and all that affair with Telyanin and\r
+Bogdanich. That affair was the same thing as this soldier with the harsh\r
+voice, and it was that affair and this soldier that were so agonizingly,\r
+incessantly pulling and pressing his arm and always dragging it in one\r
+direction. He tried to get away from them, but they would not for an\r
+instant let his shoulder move a hair's breadth. It would not ache--it\r
+would be well--if only they did not pull it, but it was impossible to\r
+get rid of them.\r
+\r
+He opened his eyes and looked up. The black canopy of night hung less\r
+than a yard above the glow of the charcoal. Flakes of falling snow were\r
+fluttering in that light. Tushin had not returned, the doctor had not\r
+come. He was alone now, except for a soldier who was sitting naked at\r
+the other side of the fire, warming his thin yellow body.\r
+\r
+"Nobody wants me!" thought Rostov. "There is no one to help me or pity\r
+me. Yet I was once at home, strong, happy, and loved." He sighed and,\r
+doing so, groaned involuntarily.\r
+\r
+"Eh, is anything hurting you?" asked the soldier, shaking his shirt out\r
+over the fire, and not waiting for an answer he gave a grunt and added:\r
+"What a lot of men have been crippled today--frightful!"\r
+\r
+Rostov did not listen to the soldier. He looked at the snowflakes\r
+fluttering above the fire and remembered a Russian winter at his warm,\r
+bright home, his fluffy fur coat, his quickly gliding sleigh, his\r
+healthy body, and all the affection and care of his family. "And why did\r
+I come here?" he wondered.\r
+\r
+Next day the French army did not renew their attack, and the remnant of\r
+Bagration's detachment was reunited to Kutuzov's army.\r
+\r
+BOOK THREE: 1805\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+Prince Vasili was not a man who deliberately thought out his plans.\r
+Still less did he think of injuring anyone for his own advantage. He was\r
+merely a man of the world who had got on and to whom getting on had\r
+become a habit. Schemes and devices for which he never rightly accounted\r
+to himself, but which formed the whole interest of his life, were\r
+constantly shaping themselves in his mind, arising from the\r
+circumstances and persons he met. Of these plans he had not merely one\r
+or two in his head but dozens, some only beginning to form themselves,\r
+some approaching achievement, and some in course of disintegration. He\r
+did not, for instance, say to himself: "This man now has influence, I\r
+must gain his confidence and friendship and through him obtain a special\r
+grant." Nor did he say to himself: "Pierre is a rich man, I must entice\r
+him to marry my daughter and lend me the forty thousand rubles I need."\r
+But when he came across a man of position his instinct immediately told\r
+him that this man could be useful, and without any premeditation Prince\r
+Vasili took the first opportunity to gain his confidence, flatter him,\r
+become intimate with him, and finally make his request.\r
+\r
+He had Pierre at hand in Moscow and procured for him an appointment as\r
+Gentleman of the Bedchamber, which at that time conferred the status of\r
+Councilor of State, and insisted on the young man accompanying him to\r
+Petersburg and staying at his house. With apparent absent-mindedness,\r
+yet with unhesitating assurance that he was doing the right thing,\r
+Prince Vasili did everything to get Pierre to marry his daughter. Had he\r
+thought out his plans beforehand he could not have been so natural and\r
+shown such unaffected familiarity in intercourse with everybody both\r
+above and below him in social standing. Something always drew him toward\r
+those richer and more powerful than himself and he had rare skill in\r
+seizing the most opportune moment for making use of people.\r
+\r
+Pierre, on unexpectedly becoming Count Bezukhov and a rich man, felt\r
+himself after his recent loneliness and freedom from cares so beset and\r
+preoccupied that only in bed was he able to be by himself. He had to\r
+sign papers, to present himself at government offices, the purpose of\r
+which was not clear to him, to question his chief steward, to visit his\r
+estate near Moscow, and to receive many people who formerly did not even\r
+wish to know of his existence but would now have been offended and\r
+grieved had he chosen not to see them. These different people--\r
+businessmen, relations, and acquaintances alike--were all disposed to\r
+treat the young heir in the most friendly and flattering manner: they\r
+were all evidently firmly convinced of Pierre's noble qualities. He was\r
+always hearing such words as: "With your remarkable kindness," or, "With\r
+your excellent heart," "You are yourself so honorable Count," or, "Were\r
+he as clever as you," and so on, till he began sincerely to believe in\r
+his own exceptional kindness and extraordinary intelligence, the more so\r
+as in the depth of his heart it had always seemed to him that he really\r
+was very kind and intelligent. Even people who had formerly been\r
+spiteful toward him and evidently unfriendly now became gentle and\r
+affectionate. The angry eldest princess, with the long waist and hair\r
+plastered down like a doll's, had come into Pierre's room after the\r
+funeral. With drooping eyes and frequent blushes she told him she was\r
+very sorry about their past misunderstandings and did not now feel she\r
+had a right to ask him for anything, except only for permission, after\r
+the blow she had received, to remain for a few weeks longer in the house\r
+she so loved and where she had sacrificed so much. She could not refrain\r
+from weeping at these words. Touched that this statuesque princess could\r
+so change, Pierre took her hand and begged her forgiveness, without\r
+knowing what for. From that day the eldest princess quite changed toward\r
+Pierre and began knitting a striped scarf for him.\r
+\r
+"Do this for my sake, mon cher; after all, she had to put up with a\r
+great deal from the deceased," said Prince Vasili to him, handing him a\r
+deed to sign for the princess' benefit.\r
+\r
+Prince Vasili had come to the conclusion that it was necessary to throw\r
+this bone--a bill for thirty thousand rubles--to the poor princess that\r
+it might not occur to her to speak of his share in the affair of the\r
+inlaid portfolio. Pierre signed the deed and after that the princess\r
+grew still kinder. The younger sisters also became affectionate to him,\r
+especially the youngest, the pretty one with the mole, who often made\r
+him feel confused by her smiles and her own confusion when meeting him.\r
+\r
+It seemed so natural to Pierre that everyone should like him, and it\r
+would have seemed so unnatural had anyone disliked him, that he could\r
+not but believe in the sincerity of those around him. Besides, he had no\r
+time to ask himself whether these people were sincere or not. He was\r
+always busy and always felt in a state of mild and cheerful\r
+intoxication. He felt as though he were the center of some important and\r
+general movement; that something was constantly expected of him, that if\r
+he did not do it he would grieve and disappoint many people, but if he\r
+did this and that, all would be well; and he did what was demanded of\r
+him, but still that happy result always remained in the future.\r
+\r
+More than anyone else, Prince Vasili took possession of Pierre's affairs\r
+and of Pierre himself in those early days. From the death of Count\r
+Bezukhov he did not let go his hold of the lad. He had the air of a man\r
+oppressed by business, weary and suffering, who yet would not, for\r
+pity's sake, leave this helpless youth who, after all, was the son of\r
+his old friend and the possessor of such enormous wealth, to the caprice\r
+of fate and the designs of rogues. During the few days he spent in\r
+Moscow after the death of Count Bezukhov, he would call Pierre, or go to\r
+him himself, and tell him what ought to be done in a tone of weariness\r
+and assurance, as if he were adding every time: "You know I am\r
+overwhelmed with business and it is purely out of charity that I trouble\r
+myself about you, and you also know quite well that what I propose is\r
+the only thing possible."\r
+\r
+"Well, my dear fellow, tomorrow we are off at last," said Prince Vasili\r
+one day, closing his eyes and fingering Pierre's elbow, speaking as if\r
+he were saying something which had long since been agreed upon and could\r
+not now be altered. "We start tomorrow and I'm giving you a place in my\r
+carriage. I am very glad. All our important business here is now\r
+settled, and I ought to have been off long ago. Here is something I have\r
+received from the chancellor. I asked him for you, and you have been\r
+entered in the diplomatic corps and made a Gentleman of the Bedchamber.\r
+The diplomatic career now lies open before you."\r
+\r
+Notwithstanding the tone of wearied assurance with which these words\r
+were pronounced, Pierre, who had so long been considering his career,\r
+wished to make some suggestion. But Prince Vasili interrupted him in the\r
+special deep cooing tone, precluding the possibility of interrupting his\r
+speech, which he used in extreme cases when special persuasion was\r
+needed.\r
+\r
+"Mais, mon cher, I did this for my own sake, to satisfy my conscience,\r
+and there is nothing to thank me for. No one has ever complained yet of\r
+being too much loved; and besides, you are free, you could throw it up\r
+tomorrow. But you will see everything for yourself when you get to\r
+Petersburg. It is high time for you to get away from these terrible\r
+recollections." Prince Vasili sighed. "Yes, yes, my boy. And my valet\r
+can go in your carriage. Ah! I was nearly forgetting," he added. "You\r
+know, mon cher, your father and I had some accounts to settle, so I have\r
+received what was due from the Ryazan estate and will keep it; you won't\r
+require it. We'll go into the accounts later."\r
+\r
+By "what was due from the Ryazan estate" Prince Vasili meant several\r
+thousand rubles quitrent received from Pierre's peasants, which the\r
+prince had retained for himself.\r
+\r
+In Petersburg, as in Moscow, Pierre found the same atmosphere of\r
+gentleness and affection. He could not refuse the post, or rather the\r
+rank (for he did nothing), that Prince Vasili had procured for him, and\r
+acquaintances, invitations, and social occupations were so numerous\r
+that, even more than in Moscow, he felt a sense of bewilderment, bustle,\r
+and continual expectation of some good, always in front of him but never\r
+attained.\r
+\r
+Of his former bachelor acquaintances many were no longer in Petersburg.\r
+The Guards had gone to the front; Dolokhov had been reduced to the\r
+ranks; Anatole was in the army somewhere in the provinces; Prince Andrew\r
+was abroad; so Pierre had not the opportunity to spend his nights as he\r
+used to like to spend them, or to open his mind by intimate talks with a\r
+friend older than himself and whom he respected. His whole time was\r
+taken up with dinners and balls and was spent chiefly at Prince Vasili's\r
+house in the company of the stout princess, his wife, and his beautiful\r
+daughter Helene.\r
+\r
+Like the others, Anna Pavlovna Scherer showed Pierre the change of\r
+attitude toward him that had taken place in society.\r
+\r
+Formerly in Anna Pavlovna's presence, Pierre had always felt that what\r
+he was saying was out of place, tactless and unsuitable, that remarks\r
+which seemed to him clever while they formed in his mind became foolish\r
+as soon as he uttered them, while on the contrary Hippolyte's stupidest\r
+remarks came out clever and apt. Now everything Pierre said was\r
+charmant. Even if Anna Pavlovna did not say so, he could see that she\r
+wished to and only refrained out of regard for his modesty.\r
+\r
+In the beginning of the winter of 1805-6 Pierre received one of Anna\r
+Pavlovna's usual pink notes with an invitation to which was added: "You\r
+will find the beautiful Helene here, whom it is always delightful to\r
+see."\r
+\r
+When he read that sentence, Pierre felt for the first time that some\r
+link which other people recognized had grown up between himself and\r
+Helene, and that thought both alarmed him, as if some obligation were\r
+being imposed on him which he could not fulfill, and pleased him as an\r
+entertaining supposition.\r
+\r
+Anna Pavlovna's "At Home" was like the former one, only the novelty she\r
+offered her guests this time was not Mortemart, but a diplomatist fresh\r
+from Berlin with the very latest details of the Emperor Alexander's\r
+visit to Potsdam, and of how the two august friends had pledged\r
+themselves in an indissoluble alliance to uphold the cause of justice\r
+against the enemy of the human race. Anna Pavlovna received Pierre with\r
+a shade of melancholy, evidently relating to the young man's recent loss\r
+by the death of Count Bezukhov (everyone constantly considered it a duty\r
+to assure Pierre that he was greatly afflicted by the death of the\r
+father he had hardly known), and her melancholy was just like the august\r
+melancholy she showed at the mention of her most august Majesty the\r
+Empress Marya Fedorovna. Pierre felt flattered by this. Anna Pavlovna\r
+arranged the different groups in her drawing room with her habitual\r
+skill. The large group, in which were Prince Vasili and the generals,\r
+had the benefit of the diplomat. Another group was at the tea table.\r
+Pierre wished to join the former, but Anna Pavlovna--who was in the\r
+excited condition of a commander on a battlefield to whom thousands of\r
+new and brilliant ideas occur which there is hardly time to put in\r
+action--seeing Pierre, touched his sleeve with her finger, saying:\r
+\r
+"Wait a bit, I have something in view for you this evening." (She\r
+glanced at Helene and smiled at her.) "My dear Helene, be charitable to\r
+my poor aunt who adores you. Go and keep her company for ten minutes.\r
+And that it will not be too dull, here is the dear count who will not\r
+refuse to accompany you."\r
+\r
+The beauty went to the aunt, but Anna Pavlovna detained Pierre, looking\r
+as if she had to give some final necessary instructions.\r
+\r
+"Isn't she exquisite?" she said to Pierre, pointing to the stately\r
+beauty as she glided away. "And how she carries herself! For so young a\r
+girl, such tact, such masterly perfection of manner! It comes from her\r
+heart. Happy the man who wins her! With her the least worldly of men\r
+would occupy a most brilliant position in society. Don't you think so? I\r
+only wanted to know your opinion," and Anna Pavlovna let Pierre go.\r
+\r
+Pierre, in reply, sincerely agreed with her as to Helene's perfection of\r
+manner. If he ever thought of Helene, it was just of her beauty and her\r
+remarkable skill in appearing silently dignified in society.\r
+\r
+The old aunt received the two young people in her corner, but seemed\r
+desirous of hiding her adoration for Helene and inclined rather to show\r
+her fear of Anna Pavlovna. She looked at her niece, as if inquiring what\r
+she was to do with these people. On leaving them, Anna Pavlovna again\r
+touched Pierre's sleeve, saying: "I hope you won't say that it is dull\r
+in my house again," and she glanced at Helene.\r
+\r
+Helene smiled, with a look implying that she did not admit the\r
+possibility of anyone seeing her without being enchanted. The aunt\r
+coughed, swallowed, and said in French that she was very pleased to see\r
+Helene, then she turned to Pierre with the same words of welcome and the\r
+same look. In the middle of a dull and halting conversation, Helene\r
+turned to Pierre with the beautiful bright smile that she gave to\r
+everyone. Pierre was so used to that smile, and it had so little meaning\r
+for him, that he paid no attention to it. The aunt was just speaking of\r
+a collection of snuffboxes that had belonged to Pierre's father, Count\r
+Bezukhov, and showed them her own box. Princess Helene asked to see the\r
+portrait of the aunt's husband on the box lid.\r
+\r
+"That is probably the work of Vinesse," said Pierre, mentioning a\r
+celebrated miniaturist, and he leaned over the table to take the\r
+snuffbox while trying to hear what was being said at the other table.\r
+\r
+He half rose, meaning to go round, but the aunt handed him the snuffbox,\r
+passing it across Helene's back. Helene stooped forward to make room,\r
+and looked round with a smile. She was, as always at evening parties,\r
+wearing a dress such as was then fashionable, cut very low at front and\r
+back. Her bust, which had always seemed like marble to Pierre, was so\r
+close to him that his shortsighted eyes could not but perceive the\r
+living charm of her neck and shoulders, so near to his lips that he need\r
+only have bent his head a little to have touched them. He was conscious\r
+of the warmth of her body, the scent of perfume, and the creaking of her\r
+corset as she moved. He did not see her marble beauty forming a complete\r
+whole with her dress, but all the charm of her body only covered by her\r
+garments. And having once seen this he could not help being aware of it,\r
+just as we cannot renew an illusion we have once seen through.\r
+\r
+"So you have never noticed before how beautiful I am?" Helene seemed to\r
+say. "You had not noticed that I am a woman? Yes, I am a woman who may\r
+belong to anyone--to you too," said her glance. And at that moment\r
+Pierre felt that Helene not only could, but must, be his wife, and that\r
+it could not be otherwise.\r
+\r
+He knew this at that moment as surely as if he had been standing at the\r
+altar with her. How and when this would be he did not know, he did not\r
+even know if it would be a good thing (he even felt, he knew not why,\r
+that it would be a bad thing), but he knew it would happen.\r
+\r
+Pierre dropped his eyes, lifted them again, and wished once more to see\r
+her as a distant beauty far removed from him, as he had seen her every\r
+day until then, but he could no longer do it. He could not, any more\r
+than a man who has been looking at a tuft of steppe grass through the\r
+mist and taking it for a tree can again take it for a tree after he has\r
+once recognized it to be a tuft of grass. She was terribly close to him.\r
+She already had power over him, and between them there was no longer any\r
+barrier except the barrier of his own will.\r
+\r
+"Well, I will leave you in your little corner," came Anna Pavlovna's\r
+voice, "I see you are all right there."\r
+\r
+And Pierre, anxiously trying to remember whether he had done anything\r
+reprehensible, looked round with a blush. It seemed to him that everyone\r
+knew what had happened to him as he knew it himself.\r
+\r
+A little later when he went up to the large circle, Anna Pavlovna said\r
+to him: "I hear you are refitting your Petersburg house?"\r
+\r
+This was true. The architect had told him that it was necessary, and\r
+Pierre, without knowing why, was having his enormous Petersburg house\r
+done up.\r
+\r
+"That's a good thing, but don't move from Prince Vasili's. It is good to\r
+have a friend like the prince," she said, smiling at Prince Vasili. "I\r
+know something about that. Don't I? And you are still so young. You need\r
+advice. Don't be angry with me for exercising an old woman's privilege."\r
+\r
+She paused, as women always do, expecting something after they have\r
+mentioned their age. "If you marry it will be a different thing," she\r
+continued, uniting them both in one glance. Pierre did not look at\r
+Helene nor she at him. But she was just as terribly close to him. He\r
+muttered something and colored.\r
+\r
+When he got home he could not sleep for a long time for thinking of what\r
+had happened. What had happened? Nothing. He had merely understood that\r
+the woman he had known as a child, of whom when her beauty was mentioned\r
+he had said absent-mindedly: "Yes, she's good looking," he had\r
+understood that this woman might belong to him.\r
+\r
+"But she's stupid. I have myself said she is stupid," he thought. "There\r
+is something nasty, something wrong, in the feeling she excites in me. I\r
+have been told that her brother Anatole was in love with her and she\r
+with him, that there was quite a scandal and that that's why he was sent\r
+away. Hippolyte is her brother... Prince Vasili is her father... It's\r
+bad...." he reflected, but while he was thinking this (the reflection\r
+was still incomplete), he caught himself smiling and was conscious that\r
+another line of thought had sprung up, and while thinking of her\r
+worthlessness he was also dreaming of how she would be his wife, how she\r
+would love him become quite different, and how all he had thought and\r
+heard of her might be false. And he again saw her not as the daughter of\r
+Prince Vasili, but visualized her whole body only veiled by its gray\r
+dress. "But no! Why did this thought never occur to me before?" and\r
+again he told himself that it was impossible, that there would be\r
+something unnatural, and as it seemed to him dishonorable, in this\r
+marriage. He recalled her former words and looks and the words and looks\r
+of those who had seen them together. He recalled Anna Pavlovna's words\r
+and looks when she spoke to him about his house, recalled thousands of\r
+such hints from Prince Vasili and others, and was seized by terror lest\r
+he had already, in some way, bound himself to do something that was\r
+evidently wrong and that he ought not to do. But at the very time he was\r
+expressing this conviction to himself, in another part of his mind her\r
+image rose in all its womanly beauty.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+In November, 1805, Prince Vasili had to go on a tour of inspection in\r
+four different provinces. He had arranged this for himself so as to\r
+visit his neglected estates at the same time and pick up his son Anatole\r
+where his regiment was stationed, and take him to visit Prince Nicholas\r
+Bolkonski in order to arrange a match for him with the daughter of that\r
+rich old man. But before leaving home and undertaking these new affairs,\r
+Prince Vasili had to settle matters with Pierre, who, it is true, had\r
+latterly spent whole days at home, that is, in Prince Vasili's house\r
+where he was staying, and had been absurd, excited, and foolish in\r
+Helene's presence (as a lover should be), but had not yet proposed to\r
+her.\r
+\r
+"This is all very fine, but things must be settled," said Prince Vasili\r
+to himself, with a sorrowful sigh, one morning, feeling that Pierre who\r
+was under such obligations to him ("But never mind that") was not\r
+behaving very well in this matter. "Youth, frivolity... well, God be\r
+with him," thought he, relishing his own goodness of heart, "but it must\r
+be brought to a head. The day after tomorrow will be Lelya's name day. I\r
+will invite two or three people, and if he does not understand what he\r
+ought to do then it will be my affair--yes, my affair. I am her father."\r
+\r
+Six weeks after Anna Pavlovna's "At Home" and after the sleepless night\r
+when he had decided that to marry Helene would be a calamity and that he\r
+ought to avoid her and go away, Pierre, despite that decision, had not\r
+left Prince Vasili's and felt with terror that in people's eyes he was\r
+every day more and more connected with her, that it was impossible for\r
+him to return to his former conception of her, that he could not break\r
+away from her, and that though it would be a terrible thing he would\r
+have to unite his fate with hers. He might perhaps have been able to\r
+free himself but that Prince Vasili (who had rarely before given\r
+receptions) now hardly let a day go by without having an evening party\r
+at which Pierre had to be present unless he wished to spoil the general\r
+pleasure and disappoint everyone's expectation. Prince Vasili, in the\r
+rare moments when he was at home, would take Pierre's hand in passing\r
+and draw it downwards, or absent-mindedly hold out his wrinkled, clean-\r
+shaven cheek for Pierre to kiss and would say: "Till tomorrow," or, "Be\r
+in to dinner or I shall not see you," or, "I am staying in for your\r
+sake," and so on. And though Prince Vasili, when he stayed in (as he\r
+said) for Pierre's sake, hardly exchanged a couple of words with him,\r
+Pierre felt unable to disappoint him. Every day he said to himself one\r
+and the same thing: "It is time I understood her and made up my mind\r
+what she really is. Was I mistaken before, or am I mistaken now? No, she\r
+is not stupid, she is an excellent girl," he sometimes said to himself\r
+"she never makes a mistake, never says anything stupid. She says little,\r
+but what she does say is always clear and simple, so she is not stupid.\r
+She never was abashed and is not abashed now, so she cannot be a bad\r
+woman!" He had often begun to make reflections or think aloud in her\r
+company, and she had always answered him either by a brief but\r
+appropriate remark--showing that it did not interest her--or by a silent\r
+look and smile which more palpably than anything else showed Pierre her\r
+superiority. She was right in regarding all arguments as nonsense in\r
+comparison with that smile.\r
+\r
+She always addressed him with a radiantly confiding smile meant for him\r
+alone, in which there was something more significant than in the general\r
+smile that usually brightened her face. Pierre knew that everyone was\r
+waiting for him to say a word and cross a certain line, and he knew that\r
+sooner or later he would step across it, but an incomprehensible terror\r
+seized him at the thought of that dreadful step. A thousand times during\r
+that month and a half while he felt himself drawn nearer and nearer to\r
+that dreadful abyss, Pierre said to himself: "What am I doing? I need\r
+resolution. Can it be that I have none?"\r
+\r
+He wished to take a decision, but felt with dismay that in this matter\r
+he lacked that strength of will which he had known in himself and really\r
+possessed. Pierre was one of those who are only strong when they feel\r
+themselves quite innocent, and since that day when he was overpowered by\r
+a feeling of desire while stooping over the snuffbox at Anna Pavlovna's,\r
+an unacknowledged sense of the guilt of that desire paralyzed his will.\r
+\r
+On Helene's name day, a small party of just their own people--as his\r
+wife said--met for supper at Prince Vasili's. All these friends and\r
+relations had been given to understand that the fate of the young girl\r
+would be decided that evening. The visitors were seated at supper.\r
+Princess Kuragina, a portly imposing woman who had once been handsome,\r
+was sitting at the head of the table. On either side of her sat the more\r
+important guests--an old general and his wife, and Anna Pavlovna\r
+Scherer. At the other end sat the younger and less important guests, and\r
+there too sat the members of the family, and Pierre and Helene, side by\r
+side. Prince Vasili was not having any supper: he went round the table\r
+in a merry mood, sitting down now by one, now by another, of the guests.\r
+To each of them he made some careless and agreeable remark except to\r
+Pierre and Helene, whose presence he seemed not to notice. He enlivened\r
+the whole party. The wax candles burned brightly, the silver and crystal\r
+gleamed, so did the ladies' toilets and the gold and silver of the men's\r
+epaulets; servants in scarlet liveries moved round the table, the\r
+clatter of plates, knives, and glasses mingled with the animated hum of\r
+several conversations. At one end of the table, the old chamberlain was\r
+heard assuring an old baroness that he loved her passionately, at which\r
+she laughed; at the other could be heard the story of the misfortunes of\r
+some Mary Viktorovna or other. At the center of the table, Prince Vasili\r
+attracted everybody's attention. With a facetious smile on his face, he\r
+was telling the ladies about last Wednesday's meeting of the Imperial\r
+Council, at which Sergey Kuzmich Vyazmitinov, the new military governor\r
+general of Petersburg, had received and read the then famous rescript of\r
+the Emperor Alexander from the army to Sergey Kuzmich, in which the\r
+Emperor said that he was receiving from all sides declarations of the\r
+people's loyalty, that the declaration from Petersburg gave him\r
+particular pleasure, and that he was proud to be at the head of such a\r
+nation and would endeavor to be worthy of it. This rescript began with\r
+the words: "Sergey Kuzmich, From all sides reports reach me," etc.\r
+\r
+"Well, and so he never got farther than: 'Sergey Kuzmich'?" asked one of\r
+the ladies.\r
+\r
+"Exactly, not a hair's breadth farther," answered Prince Vasili,\r
+laughing, "'Sergey Kuzmich... From all sides... From all sides... Sergey\r
+Kuzmich...' Poor Vyazmitinov could not get any farther! He began the\r
+rescript again and again, but as soon as he uttered 'Sergey' he sobbed,\r
+'Kuz-mi-ch,' tears, and 'From all sides' was smothered in sobs and he\r
+could get no farther. And again his handkerchief, and again: 'Sergey\r
+Kuzmich, From all sides,'... and tears, till at last somebody else was\r
+asked to read it."\r
+\r
+"Kuzmich... From all sides... and then tears," someone repeated\r
+laughing.\r
+\r
+"Don't be unkind," cried Anna Pavlovna from her end of the table holding\r
+up a threatening finger. "He is such a worthy and excellent man, our\r
+dear Vyazmitinov...."\r
+\r
+Everybody laughed a great deal. At the head of the table, where the\r
+honored guests sat, everyone seemed to be in high spirits and under the\r
+influence of a variety of exciting sensations. Only Pierre and Helene\r
+sat silently side by side almost at the bottom of the table, a\r
+suppressed smile brightening both their faces, a smile that had nothing\r
+to do with Sergey Kuzmich--a smile of bashfulness at their own feelings.\r
+But much as all the rest laughed, talked, and joked, much as they\r
+enjoyed their Rhine wine, saute, and ices, and however they avoided\r
+looking at the young couple, and heedless and unobservant as they seemed\r
+of them, one could feel by the occasional glances they gave that the\r
+story about Sergey Kuzmich, the laughter, and the food were all a\r
+pretense, and that the whole attention of that company was directed to--\r
+Pierre and Helene. Prince Vasili mimicked the sobbing of Sergey Kuzmich\r
+and at the same time his eyes glanced toward his daughter, and while he\r
+laughed the expression on his face clearly said: "Yes... it's getting\r
+on, it will all be settled today." Anna Pavlovna threatened him on\r
+behalf of "our dear Vyazmitinov," and in her eyes, which, for an\r
+instant, glanced at Pierre, Prince Vasili read a congratulation on his\r
+future son-in-law and on his daughter's happiness. The old princess\r
+sighed sadly as she offered some wine to the old lady next to her and\r
+glanced angrily at her daughter, and her sigh seemed to say: "Yes,\r
+there's nothing left for you and me but to sip sweet wine, my dear, now\r
+that the time has come for these young ones to be thus boldly,\r
+provocatively happy." "And what nonsense all this is that I am saying!"\r
+thought a diplomatist, glancing at the happy faces of the lovers.\r
+"That's happiness!"\r
+\r
+Into the insignificant, trifling, and artificial interests uniting that\r
+society had entered the simple feeling of the attraction of a healthy\r
+and handsome young man and woman for one another. And this human feeling\r
+dominated everything else and soared above all their affected chatter.\r
+Jests fell flat, news was not interesting, and the animation was\r
+evidently forced. Not only the guests but even the footmen waiting at\r
+table seemed to feel this, and they forgot their duties as they looked\r
+at the beautiful Helene with her radiant face and at the red, broad, and\r
+happy though uneasy face of Pierre. It seemed as if the very light of\r
+the candles was focused on those two happy faces alone.\r
+\r
+Pierre felt that he was the center of it all, and this both pleased and\r
+embarrassed him. He was like a man entirely absorbed in some occupation.\r
+He did not see, hear, or understand anything clearly. Only now and then\r
+detached ideas and impressions from the world of reality shot\r
+unexpectedly through his mind.\r
+\r
+"So it is all finished!" he thought. "And how has it all happened? How\r
+quickly! Now I know that not because of her alone, nor of myself alone,\r
+but because of everyone, it must inevitably come about. They are all\r
+expecting it, they are so sure that it will happen that I cannot, I\r
+cannot, disappoint them. But how will it be? I do not know, but it will\r
+certainly happen!" thought Pierre, glancing at those dazzling shoulders\r
+close to his eyes.\r
+\r
+Or he would suddenly feel ashamed of he knew not what. He felt it\r
+awkward to attract everyone's attention and to be considered a lucky man\r
+and, with his plain face, to be looked on as a sort of Paris possessed\r
+of a Helen. "But no doubt it always is and must be so!" he consoled\r
+himself. "And besides, what have I done to bring it about? How did it\r
+begin? I traveled from Moscow with Prince Vasili. Then there was\r
+nothing. So why should I not stay at his house? Then I played cards with\r
+her and picked up her reticule and drove out with her. How did it begin,\r
+when did it all come about?" And here he was sitting by her side as her\r
+betrothed, seeing, hearing, feeling her nearness, her breathing, her\r
+movements, her beauty. Then it would suddenly seem to him that it was\r
+not she but he was so unusually beautiful, and that that was why they\r
+all looked so at him, and flattered by this general admiration he would\r
+expand his chest, raise his head, and rejoice at his good fortune.\r
+Suddenly he heard a familiar voice repeating something to him a second\r
+time. But Pierre was so absorbed that he did not understand what was\r
+said.\r
+\r
+"I am asking you when you last heard from Bolkonski," repeated Prince\r
+Vasili a third time. "How absent-minded you are, my dear fellow."\r
+\r
+Prince Vasili smiled, and Pierre noticed that everyone was smiling at\r
+him and Helene. "Well, what of it, if you all know it?" thought Pierre.\r
+"What of it? It's the truth!" and he himself smiled his gentle childlike\r
+smile, and Helene smiled too.\r
+\r
+"When did you get the letter? Was it from Olmutz?" repeated Prince\r
+Vasili, who pretended to want to know this in order to settle a dispute.\r
+\r
+"How can one talk or think of such trifles?" thought Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Yes, from Olmutz," he answered, with a sigh.\r
+\r
+After supper Pierre with his partner followed the others into the\r
+drawing room. The guests began to disperse, some without taking leave of\r
+Helene. Some, as if unwilling to distract her from an important\r
+occupation, came up to her for a moment and made haste to go away,\r
+refusing to let her see them off. The diplomatist preserved a mournful\r
+silence as he left the drawing room. He pictured the vanity of his\r
+diplomatic career in comparison with Pierre's happiness. The old general\r
+grumbled at his wife when she asked how his leg was. "Oh, the old fool,"\r
+he thought. "That Princess Helene will be beautiful still when she's\r
+fifty."\r
+\r
+"I think I may congratulate you," whispered Anna Pavlovna to the old\r
+princess, kissing her soundly. "If I hadn't this headache I'd have\r
+stayed longer."\r
+\r
+The old princess did not reply, she was tormented by jealousy of her\r
+daughter's happiness.\r
+\r
+While the guests were taking their leave Pierre remained for a long time\r
+alone with Helene in the little drawing room where they were sitting. He\r
+had often before, during the last six weeks, remained alone with her,\r
+but had never spoken to her of love. Now he felt that it was inevitable,\r
+but he could not make up his mind to take the final step. He felt\r
+ashamed; he felt that he was occupying someone else's place here beside\r
+Helene. "This happiness is not for you," some inner voice whispered to\r
+him. "This happiness is for those who have not in them what there is in\r
+you."\r
+\r
+But, as he had to say something, he began by asking her whether she was\r
+satisfied with the party. She replied in her usual simple manner that\r
+this name day of hers had been one of the pleasantest she had ever had.\r
+\r
+Some of the nearest relatives had not yet left. They were sitting in the\r
+large drawing room. Prince Vasili came up to Pierre with languid\r
+footsteps. Pierre rose and said it was getting late. Prince Vasili gave\r
+him a look of stern inquiry, as though what Pierre had just said was so\r
+strange that one could not take it in. But then the expression of\r
+severity changed, and he drew Pierre's hand downwards, made him sit\r
+down, and smiled affectionately.\r
+\r
+"Well, Lelya?" he asked, turning instantly to his daughter and\r
+addressing her with the careless tone of habitual tenderness natural to\r
+parents who have petted their children from babyhood, but which Prince\r
+Vasili had only acquired by imitating other parents.\r
+\r
+And he again turned to Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Sergey Kuzmich--From all sides-" he said, unbuttoning the top button of\r
+his waistcoat.\r
+\r
+Pierre smiled, but his smile showed that he knew it was not the story\r
+about Sergey Kuzmich that interested Prince Vasili just then, and Prince\r
+Vasili saw that Pierre knew this. He suddenly muttered something and\r
+went away. It seemed to Pierre that even the prince was disconcerted.\r
+The sight of the discomposure of that old man of the world touched\r
+Pierre: he looked at Helene and she too seemed disconcerted, and her\r
+look seemed to say: "Well, it is your own fault."\r
+\r
+"The step must be taken but I cannot, I cannot!" thought Pierre, and he\r
+again began speaking about indifferent matters, about Sergey Kuzmich,\r
+asking what the point of the story was as he had not heard it properly.\r
+Helene answered with a smile that she too had missed it.\r
+\r
+When Prince Vasili returned to the drawing room, the princess, his wife,\r
+was talking in low tones to the elderly lady about Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Of course, it is a very brilliant match, but happiness, my dear..."\r
+\r
+"Marriages are made in heaven," replied the elderly lady.\r
+\r
+Prince Vasili passed by, seeming not to hear the ladies, and sat down on\r
+a sofa in a far corner of the room. He closed his eyes and seemed to be\r
+dozing. His head sank forward and then he roused himself.\r
+\r
+"Aline," he said to his wife, "go and see what they are about."\r
+\r
+The princess went up to the door, passed by it with a dignified and\r
+indifferent air, and glanced into the little drawing room. Pierre and\r
+Helene still sat talking just as before.\r
+\r
+"Still the same," she said to her husband.\r
+\r
+Prince Vasili frowned, twisting his mouth, his cheeks quivered and his\r
+face assumed the coarse, unpleasant expression peculiar to him. Shaking\r
+himself, he rose, threw back his head, and with resolute steps went past\r
+the ladies into the little drawing room. With quick steps he went\r
+joyfully up to Pierre. His face was so unusually triumphant that Pierre\r
+rose in alarm on seeing it.\r
+\r
+"Thank God!" said Prince Vasili. "My wife has told me everything!" (He\r
+put one arm around Pierre and the other around his daughter.)--"My dear\r
+boy... Lelya... I am very pleased." (His voice trembled.) "I loved your\r
+father... and she will make you a good wife... God bless you!..."\r
+\r
+He embraced his daughter, and then again Pierre, and kissed him with his\r
+malodorous mouth. Tears actually moistened his cheeks.\r
+\r
+"Princess, come here!" he shouted.\r
+\r
+The old princess came in and also wept. The elderly lady was using her\r
+handkerchief too. Pierre was kissed, and he kissed the beautiful\r
+Helene's hand several times. After a while they were left alone again.\r
+\r
+"All this had to be and could not be otherwise," thought Pierre, "so it\r
+is useless to ask whether it is good or bad. It is good because it's\r
+definite and one is rid of the old tormenting doubt." Pierre held the\r
+hand of his betrothed in silence, looking at her beautiful bosom as it\r
+rose and fell.\r
+\r
+"Helene!" he said aloud and paused.\r
+\r
+"Something special is always said in such cases," he thought, but could\r
+not remember what it was that people say. He looked at her face. She\r
+drew nearer to him. Her face flushed.\r
+\r
+"Oh, take those off... those..." she said, pointing to his spectacles.\r
+\r
+Pierre took them off, and his eyes, besides the strange look eyes have\r
+from which spectacles have just been removed, had also a frightened and\r
+inquiring look. He was about to stoop over her hand and kiss it, but\r
+with a rapid, almost brutal movement of her head, she intercepted his\r
+lips and met them with her own. Her face struck Pierre, by its altered,\r
+unpleasantly excited expression.\r
+\r
+"It is too late now, it's done; besides I love her," thought Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Je vous aime!" * he said, remembering what has to be said at such\r
+moments: but his words sounded so weak that he felt ashamed of himself.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "I love you."\r
+\r
+Six weeks later he was married, and settled in Count Bezukhov's large,\r
+newly furnished Petersburg house, the happy possessor, as people said,\r
+of a wife who was a celebrated beauty and of millions of money.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+Old Prince Nicholas Bolkonski received a letter from Prince Vasili in\r
+November, 1805, announcing that he and his son would be paying him a\r
+visit. "I am starting on a journey of inspection, and of course I shall\r
+think nothing of an extra seventy miles to come and see you at the same\r
+time, my honored benefactor," wrote Prince Vasili. "My son Anatole is\r
+accompanying me on his way to the army, so I hope you will allow him\r
+personally to express the deep respect that, emulating his father, he\r
+feels for you."\r
+\r
+"It seems that there will be no need to bring Mary out, suitors are\r
+coming to us of their own accord," incautiously remarked the little\r
+princess on hearing the news.\r
+\r
+Prince Nicholas frowned, but said nothing.\r
+\r
+A fortnight after the letter Prince Vasili's servants came one evening\r
+in advance of him, and he and his son arrived next day.\r
+\r
+Old Bolkonski had always had a poor opinion of Prince Vasili's\r
+character, but more so recently, since in the new reigns of Paul and\r
+Alexander Prince Vasili had risen to high position and honors. And now,\r
+from the hints contained in his letter and given by the little princess,\r
+he saw which way the wind was blowing, and his low opinion changed into\r
+a feeling of contemptuous ill will. He snorted whenever he mentioned\r
+him. On the day of Prince Vasili's arrival, Prince Bolkonski was\r
+particularly discontented and out of temper. Whether he was in a bad\r
+temper because Prince Vasili was coming, or whether his being in a bad\r
+temper made him specially annoyed at Prince Vasili's visit, he was in a\r
+bad temper, and in the morning Tikhon had already advised the architect\r
+not to go to the prince with his report.\r
+\r
+"Do you hear how he's walking?" said Tikhon, drawing the architect's\r
+attention to the sound of the prince's footsteps. "Stepping flat on his\r
+heels--we know what that means...."\r
+\r
+However, at nine o'clock the prince, in his velvet coat with a sable\r
+collar and cap, went out for his usual walk. It had snowed the day\r
+before and the path to the hothouse, along which the prince was in the\r
+habit of walking, had been swept: the marks of the broom were still\r
+visible in the snow and a shovel had been left sticking in one of the\r
+soft snowbanks that bordered both sides of the path. The prince went\r
+through the conservatories, the serfs' quarters, and the outbuildings,\r
+frowning and silent.\r
+\r
+"Can a sleigh pass?" he asked his overseer, a venerable man, resembling\r
+his master in manners and looks, who was accompanying him back to the\r
+house.\r
+\r
+"The snow is deep. I am having the avenue swept, your honor."\r
+\r
+The prince bowed his head and went up to the porch. "God be thanked,"\r
+thought the overseer, "the storm has blown over!"\r
+\r
+"It would have been hard to drive up, your honor," he added. "I heard,\r
+your honor, that a minister is coming to visit your honor."\r
+\r
+The prince turned round to the overseer and fixed his eyes on him,\r
+frowning.\r
+\r
+"What? A minister? What minister? Who gave orders?" he said in his\r
+shrill, harsh voice. "The road is not swept for the princess my\r
+daughter, but for a minister! For me, there are no ministers!"\r
+\r
+"Your honor, I thought..."\r
+\r
+"You thought!" shouted the prince, his words coming more and more\r
+rapidly and indistinctly. "You thought!... Rascals! Blackguards!... I'll\r
+teach you to think!" and lifting his stick he swung it and would have\r
+hit Alpatych, the overseer, had not the latter instinctively avoided the\r
+blow. "Thought... Blackguards..." shouted the prince rapidly.\r
+\r
+But although Alpatych, frightened at his own temerity in avoiding the\r
+stroke, came up to the prince, bowing his bald head resignedly before\r
+him, or perhaps for that very reason, the prince, though he continued to\r
+shout: "Blackguards!... Throw the snow back on the road!" did not lift\r
+his stick again but hurried into the house.\r
+\r
+Before dinner, Princess Mary and Mademoiselle Bourienne, who knew that\r
+the prince was in a bad humor, stood awaiting him; Mademoiselle\r
+Bourienne with a radiant face that said: "I know nothing, I am the same\r
+as usual," and Princess Mary pale, frightened, and with downcast eyes.\r
+What she found hardest to bear was to know that on such occasions she\r
+ought to behave like Mademoiselle Bourienne, but could not. She thought:\r
+"If I seem not to notice he will think that I do not sympathize with\r
+him; if I seem sad and out of spirits myself, he will say (as he has\r
+done before) that I'm in the dumps."\r
+\r
+The prince looked at his daughter's frightened face and snorted.\r
+\r
+"Fool... or dummy!" he muttered.\r
+\r
+"And the other one is not here. They've been telling tales," he thought-\r
+-referring to the little princess who was not in the dining room.\r
+\r
+"Where is the princess?" he asked. "Hiding?"\r
+\r
+"She is not very well," answered Mademoiselle Bourienne with a bright\r
+smile, "so she won't come down. It is natural in her state."\r
+\r
+"Hm! Hm!" muttered the prince, sitting down.\r
+\r
+His plate seemed to him not quite clean, and pointing to a spot he flung\r
+it away. Tikhon caught it and handed it to a footman. The little\r
+princess was not unwell, but had such an overpowering fear of the prince\r
+that, hearing he was in a bad humor, she had decided not to appear.\r
+\r
+"I am afraid for the baby," she said to Mademoiselle Bourienne: "Heaven\r
+knows what a fright might do."\r
+\r
+In general at Bald Hills the little princess lived in constant fear, and\r
+with a sense of antipathy to the old prince which she did not realize\r
+because the fear was so much the stronger feeling. The prince\r
+reciprocated this antipathy, but it was overpowered by his contempt for\r
+her. When the little princess had grown accustomed to life at Bald\r
+Hills, she took a special fancy to Mademoiselle Bourienne, spent whole\r
+days with her, asked her to sleep in her room, and often talked with her\r
+about the old prince and criticized him.\r
+\r
+"So we are to have visitors, mon prince?" remarked Mademoiselle\r
+Bourienne, unfolding her white napkin with her rosy fingers. "His\r
+Excellency Prince Vasili Kuragin and his son, I understand?" she said\r
+inquiringly.\r
+\r
+"Hm!--his excellency is a puppy.... I got him his appointment in the\r
+service," said the prince disdainfully. "Why his son is coming I don't\r
+understand. Perhaps Princess Elizabeth and Princess Mary know. I don't\r
+want him." (He looked at his blushing daughter.) "Are you unwell today?\r
+Eh? Afraid of the 'minister' as that idiot Alpatych called him this\r
+morning?"\r
+\r
+"No, mon pere."\r
+\r
+Though Mademoiselle Bourienne had been so unsuccessful in her choice of\r
+a subject, she did not stop talking, but chattered about the\r
+conservatories and the beauty of a flower that had just opened, and\r
+after the soup the prince became more genial.\r
+\r
+After dinner, he went to see his daughter-in-law. The little princess\r
+was sitting at a small table, chattering with Masha, her maid. She grew\r
+pale on seeing her father-in-law.\r
+\r
+She was much altered. She was now plain rather than pretty. Her cheeks\r
+had sunk, her lip was drawn up, and her eyes drawn down.\r
+\r
+"Yes, I feel a kind of oppression," she said in reply to the prince's\r
+question as to how she felt.\r
+\r
+"Do you want anything?"\r
+\r
+"No, merci, mon pere."\r
+\r
+"Well, all right, all right."\r
+\r
+He left the room and went to the waiting room where Alpatych stood with\r
+bowed head.\r
+\r
+"Has the snow been shoveled back?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, your excellency. Forgive me for heaven's sake... It was only my\r
+stupidity."\r
+\r
+"All right, all right," interrupted the prince, and laughing his\r
+unnatural way, he stretched out his hand for Alpatych to kiss, and then\r
+proceeded to his study.\r
+\r
+Prince Vasili arrived that evening. He was met in the avenue by coachmen\r
+and footmen, who, with loud shouts, dragged his sleighs up to one of the\r
+lodges over the road purposely laden with snow.\r
+\r
+Prince Vasili and Anatole had separate rooms assigned to them.\r
+\r
+Anatole, having taken off his overcoat, sat with arms akimbo before a\r
+table on a corner of which he smilingly and absent-mindedly fixed his\r
+large and handsome eyes. He regarded his whole life as a continual round\r
+of amusement which someone for some reason had to provide for him. And\r
+he looked on this visit to a churlish old man and a rich and ugly\r
+heiress in the same way. All this might, he thought, turn out very well\r
+and amusingly. "And why not marry her if she really has so much money?\r
+That never does any harm," thought Anatole.\r
+\r
+He shaved and scented himself with the care and elegance which had\r
+become habitual to him and, his handsome head held high, entered his\r
+father's room with the good-humored and victorious air natural to him.\r
+Prince Vasili's two valets were busy dressing him, and he looked round\r
+with much animation and cheerfully nodded to his son as the latter\r
+entered, as if to say: "Yes, that's how I want you to look."\r
+\r
+"I say, Father, joking apart, is she very hideous?" Anatole asked, as if\r
+continuing a conversation the subject of which had often been mentioned\r
+during the journey.\r
+\r
+"Enough! What nonsense! Above all, try to be respectful and cautious\r
+with the old prince."\r
+\r
+"If he starts a row I'll go away," said Prince Anatole. "I can't bear\r
+those old men! Eh?"\r
+\r
+"Remember, for you everything depends on this."\r
+\r
+In the meantime, not only was it known in the maidservants' rooms that\r
+the minister and his son had arrived, but the appearance of both had\r
+been minutely described. Princess Mary was sitting alone in her room,\r
+vainly trying to master her agitation.\r
+\r
+"Why did they write, why did Lise tell me about it? It can never\r
+happen!" she said, looking at herself in the glass. "How shall I enter\r
+the drawing room? Even if I like him I can't now be myself with him."\r
+The mere thought of her father's look filled her with terror. The little\r
+princess and Mademoiselle Bourienne had already received from Masha, the\r
+lady's maid, the necessary report of how handsome the minister's son\r
+was, with his rosy cheeks and dark eyebrows, and with what difficulty\r
+the father had dragged his legs upstairs while the son had followed him\r
+like an eagle, three steps at a time. Having received this information,\r
+the little princess and Mademoiselle Bourienne, whose chattering voices\r
+had reached her from the corridor, went into Princess Mary's room.\r
+\r
+"You know they've come, Marie?" said the little princess, waddling in,\r
+and sinking heavily into an armchair.\r
+\r
+She was no longer in the loose gown she generally wore in the morning,\r
+but had on one of her best dresses. Her hair was carefully done and her\r
+face was animated, which, however, did not conceal its sunken and faded\r
+outlines. Dressed as she used to be in Petersburg society, it was still\r
+more noticeable how much plainer she had become. Some unobtrusive touch\r
+had been added to Mademoiselle Bourienne's toilet which rendered her\r
+fresh and pretty face yet more attractive.\r
+\r
+"What! Are you going to remain as you are, dear princess?" she began.\r
+"They'll be announcing that the gentlemen are in the drawing room and we\r
+shall have to go down, and you have not smartened yourself up at all!"\r
+\r
+The little princess got up, rang for the maid, and hurriedly and merrily\r
+began to devise and carry out a plan of how Princess Mary should be\r
+dressed. Princess Mary's self-esteem was wounded by the fact that the\r
+arrival of a suitor agitated her, and still more so by both her\r
+companions' not having the least conception that it could be otherwise.\r
+To tell them that she felt ashamed for herself and for them would be to\r
+betray her agitation, while to decline their offers to dress her would\r
+prolong their banter and insistence. She flushed, her beautiful eyes\r
+grew dim, red blotches came on her face, and it took on the unattractive\r
+martyrlike expression it so often wore, as she submitted herself to\r
+Mademoiselle Bourienne and Lise. Both these women quite sincerely tried\r
+to make her look pretty. She was so plain that neither of them could\r
+think of her as a rival, so they began dressing her with perfect\r
+sincerity, and with the naive and firm conviction women have that dress\r
+can make a face pretty.\r
+\r
+"No really, my dear, this dress is not pretty," said Lise, looking\r
+sideways at Princess Mary from a little distance. "You have a maroon\r
+dress, have it fetched. Really! You know the fate of your whole life may\r
+be at stake. But this one is too light, it's not becoming!"\r
+\r
+It was not the dress, but the face and whole figure of Princess Mary\r
+that was not pretty, but neither Mademoiselle Bourienne nor the little\r
+princess felt this; they still thought that if a blue ribbon were placed\r
+in the hair, the hair combed up, and the blue scarf arranged lower on\r
+the best maroon dress, and so on, all would be well. They forgot that\r
+the frightened face and the figure could not be altered, and that\r
+however they might change the setting and adornment of that face, it\r
+would still remain piteous and plain. After two or three changes to\r
+which Princess Mary meekly submitted, just as her hair had been arranged\r
+on the top of her head (a style that quite altered and spoiled her\r
+looks) and she had put on a maroon dress with a pale-blue scarf, the\r
+little princess walked twice round her, now adjusting a fold of the\r
+dress with her little hand, now arranging the scarf and looking at her\r
+with her head bent first on one side and then on the other.\r
+\r
+"No, it will not do," she said decidedly, clasping her hands. "No, Mary,\r
+really this dress does not suit you. I prefer you in your little gray\r
+everyday dress. Now please, do it for my sake. Katie," she said to the\r
+maid, "bring the princess her gray dress, and you'll see, Mademoiselle\r
+Bourienne, how I shall arrange it," she added, smiling with a foretaste\r
+of artistic pleasure.\r
+\r
+But when Katie brought the required dress, Princess Mary remained\r
+sitting motionless before the glass, looking at her face, and saw in the\r
+mirror her eyes full of tears and her mouth quivering, ready to burst\r
+into sobs.\r
+\r
+"Come, dear princess," said Mademoiselle Bourienne, "just one more\r
+little effort."\r
+\r
+The little princess, taking the dress from the maid, came up to Princess\r
+Mary.\r
+\r
+"Well, now we'll arrange something quite simple and becoming," she said.\r
+\r
+The three voices, hers, Mademoiselle Bourienne's, and Katie's, who was\r
+laughing at something, mingled in a merry sound, like the chirping of\r
+birds.\r
+\r
+"No, leave me alone," said Princess Mary.\r
+\r
+Her voice sounded so serious and so sad that the chirping of the birds\r
+was silenced at once. They looked at the beautiful, large, thoughtful\r
+eyes full of tears and of thoughts, gazing shiningly and imploringly at\r
+them, and understood that it was useless and even cruel to insist.\r
+\r
+"At least, change your coiffure," said the little princess. "Didn't I\r
+tell you," she went on, turning reproachfully to Mademoiselle Bourienne,\r
+"Mary's is a face which such a coiffure does not suit in the least. Not\r
+in the least! Please change it."\r
+\r
+"Leave me alone, please leave me alone! It is all quite the same to me,"\r
+answered a voice struggling with tears.\r
+\r
+Mademoiselle Bourienne and the little princess had to own to themselves\r
+that Princess Mary in this guise looked very plain, worse than usual,\r
+but it was too late. She was looking at them with an expression they\r
+both knew, an expression thoughtful and sad. This expression in Princess\r
+Mary did not frighten them (she never inspired fear in anyone), but they\r
+knew that when it appeared on her face, she became mute and was not to\r
+be shaken in her determination.\r
+\r
+"You will change it, won't you?" said Lise. And as Princess Mary gave no\r
+answer, she left the room.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary was left alone. She did not comply with Lise's request,\r
+she not only left her hair as it was, but did not even look in her\r
+glass. Letting her arms fall helplessly, she sat with downcast eyes and\r
+pondered. A husband, a man, a strong dominant and strangely attractive\r
+being rose in her imagination, and carried her into a totally different\r
+happy world of his own. She fancied a child, her own--such as she had\r
+seen the day before in the arms of her nurse's daughter--at her own\r
+breast, the husband standing by and gazing tenderly at her and the\r
+child. "But no, it is impossible, I am too ugly," she thought.\r
+\r
+"Please come to tea. The prince will be out in a moment," came the\r
+maid's voice at the door.\r
+\r
+She roused herself, and felt appalled at what she had been thinking, and\r
+before going down she went into the room where the icons hung and, her\r
+eyes fixed on the dark face of a large icon of the Saviour lit by a\r
+lamp, she stood before it with folded hands for a few moments. A painful\r
+doubt filled her soul. Could the joy of love, of earthly love for a man,\r
+be for her? In her thoughts of marriage Princess Mary dreamed of\r
+happiness and of children, but her strongest, most deeply hidden longing\r
+was for earthly love. The more she tried to hide this feeling from\r
+others and even from herself, the stronger it grew. "O God," she said,\r
+"how am I to stifle in my heart these temptations of the devil? How am I\r
+to renounce forever these vile fancies, so as peacefully to fulfill Thy\r
+will?" And scarcely had she put that question than God gave her the\r
+answer in her own heart. "Desire nothing for thyself, seek nothing, be\r
+not anxious or envious. Man's future and thy own fate must remain hidden\r
+from thee, but live so that thou mayest be ready for anything. If it be\r
+God's will to prove thee in the duties of marriage, be ready to fulfill\r
+His will." With this consoling thought (but yet with a hope for the\r
+fulfillment of her forbidden earthly longing) Princess Mary sighed, and\r
+having crossed herself went down, thinking neither of her gown and\r
+coiffure nor of how she would go in nor of what she would say. What\r
+could all that matter in comparison with the will of God, without Whose\r
+care not a hair of man's head can fall?\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+When Princess Mary came down, Prince Vasili and his son were already in\r
+the drawing room, talking to the little princess and Mademoiselle\r
+Bourienne. When she entered with her heavy step, treading on her heels,\r
+the gentlemen and Mademoiselle Bourienne rose and the little princess,\r
+indicating her to the gentlemen, said: "Voila Marie!" Princess Mary saw\r
+them all and saw them in detail. She saw Prince Vasili's face, serious\r
+for an instant at the sight of her, but immediately smiling again, and\r
+the little princess curiously noting the impression "Marie" produced on\r
+the visitors. And she saw Mademoiselle Bourienne, with her ribbon and\r
+pretty face, and her unusually animated look which was fixed on him, but\r
+him she could not see, she only saw something large, brilliant, and\r
+handsome moving toward her as she entered the room. Prince Vasili\r
+approached first, and she kissed the bold forehead that bent over her\r
+hand and answered his question by saying that, on the contrary, she\r
+remembered him quite well. Then Anatole came up to her. She still could\r
+not see him. She only felt a soft hand taking hers firmly, and she\r
+touched with her lips a white forehead, over which was beautiful light-\r
+brown hair smelling of pomade. When she looked up at him she was struck\r
+by his beauty. Anatole stood with his right thumb under a button of his\r
+uniform, his chest expanded and his back drawn in, slightly swinging one\r
+foot, and, with his head a little bent, looked with beaming face at the\r
+princess without speaking and evidently not thinking about her at all.\r
+Anatole was not quick-witted, nor ready or eloquent in conversation, but\r
+he had the faculty, so invaluable in society, of composure and\r
+imperturbable self-possession. If a man lacking in self-confidence\r
+remains dumb on a first introduction and betrays a consciousness of the\r
+impropriety of such silence and an anxiety to find something to say, the\r
+effect is bad. But Anatole was dumb, swung his foot, and smilingly\r
+examined the princess' hair. It was evident that he could be silent in\r
+this way for a very long time. "If anyone finds this silence\r
+inconvenient, let him talk, but I don't want to," he seemed to say.\r
+Besides this, in his behavior to women Anatole had a manner which\r
+particularly inspires in them curiosity, awe, and even love--a\r
+supercilious consciousness of his own superiority. It was as if he said\r
+to them: "I know you, I know you, but why should I bother about you?\r
+You'd be only too glad, of course." Perhaps he did not really think this\r
+when he met women--even probably he did not, for in general he thought\r
+very little--but his looks and manner gave that impression. The princess\r
+felt this, and as if wishing to show him that she did not even dare\r
+expect to interest him, she turned to his father. The conversation was\r
+general and animated, thanks to Princess Lise's voice and little downy\r
+lip that lifted over her white teeth. She met Prince Vasili with that\r
+playful manner often employed by lively chatty people, and consisting in\r
+the assumption that between the person they so address and themselves\r
+there are some semi-private, long-established jokes and amusing\r
+reminiscences, though no such reminiscences really exist--just as none\r
+existed in this case. Prince Vasili readily adopted her tone and the\r
+little princess also drew Anatole, whom she hardly knew, into these\r
+amusing recollections of things that had never occurred. Mademoiselle\r
+Bourienne also shared them and even Princess Mary felt herself\r
+pleasantly made to share in these merry reminiscences.\r
+\r
+"Here at least we shall have the benefit of your company all to\r
+ourselves, dear prince," said the little princess (of course, in French)\r
+to Prince Vasili. "It's not as at Annette's * receptions where you\r
+always ran away; you remember cette chere Annette!"\r
+\r
+\r
+* Anna Pavlovna.\r
+\r
+"Ah, but you won't talk politics to me like Annette!"\r
+\r
+"And our little tea table?"\r
+\r
+"Oh, yes!"\r
+\r
+"Why is it you were never at Annette's?" the little princess asked\r
+Anatole. "Ah, I know, I know," she said with a sly glance, "your brother\r
+Hippolyte told me about your goings on. Oh!" and she shook her finger at\r
+him, "I have even heard of your doings in Paris!"\r
+\r
+"And didn't Hippolyte tell you?" asked Prince Vasili, turning to his son\r
+and seizing the little princess' arm as if she would have run away and\r
+he had just managed to catch her, "didn't he tell you how he himself was\r
+pining for the dear princess, and how she showed him the door? Oh, she\r
+is a pearl among women, Princess," he added, turning to Princess Mary.\r
+\r
+When Paris was mentioned, Mademoiselle Bourienne for her part seized the\r
+opportunity of joining in the general current of recollections.\r
+\r
+She took the liberty of inquiring whether it was long since Anatole had\r
+left Paris and how he had liked that city. Anatole answered the\r
+Frenchwoman very readily and, looking at her with a smile, talked to her\r
+about her native land. When he saw the pretty little Bourienne, Anatole\r
+came to the conclusion that he would not find Bald Hills dull either.\r
+"Not at all bad!" he thought, examining her, "not at all bad, that\r
+little companion! I hope she will bring her along with her when we're\r
+married, la petite est gentille." *\r
+\r
+\r
+* The little one is charming.\r
+\r
+The old prince dressed leisurely in his study, frowning and considering\r
+what he was to do. The coming of these visitors annoyed him. "What are\r
+Prince Vasili and that son of his to me? Prince Vasili is a shallow\r
+braggart and his son, no doubt, is a fine specimen," he grumbled to\r
+himself. What angered him was that the coming of these visitors revived\r
+in his mind an unsettled question he always tried to stifle, one about\r
+which he always deceived himself. The question was whether he could ever\r
+bring himself to part from his daughter and give her to a husband. The\r
+prince never directly asked himself that question, knowing beforehand\r
+that he would have to answer it justly, and justice clashed not only\r
+with his feelings but with the very possibility of life. Life without\r
+Princess Mary, little as he seemed to value her, was unthinkable to him.\r
+"And why should she marry?" he thought. "To be unhappy for certain.\r
+There's Lise, married to Andrew--a better husband one would think could\r
+hardly be found nowadays--but is she contented with her lot? And who\r
+would marry Marie for love? Plain and awkward! They'll take her for her\r
+connections and wealth. Are there no women living unmarried, and even\r
+the happier for it?" So thought Prince Bolkonski while dressing, and yet\r
+the question he was always putting off demanded an immediate answer.\r
+Prince Vasili had brought his son with the evident intention of\r
+proposing, and today or tomorrow he would probably ask for an answer.\r
+His birth and position in society were not bad. "Well, I've nothing\r
+against it," the prince said to himself, "but he must be worthy of her.\r
+And that is what we shall see."\r
+\r
+"That is what we shall see! That is what we shall see!" he added aloud.\r
+\r
+He entered the drawing room with his usual alert step, glancing rapidly\r
+round the company. He noticed the change in the little princess' dress,\r
+Mademoiselle Bourienne's ribbon, Princess Mary's unbecoming coiffure,\r
+Mademoiselle Bourienne's and Anatole's smiles, and the loneliness of his\r
+daughter amid the general conversation. "Got herself up like a fool!" he\r
+thought, looking irritably at her. "She is shameless, and he ignores\r
+her!"\r
+\r
+He went straight up to Prince Vasili.\r
+\r
+"Well! How d'ye do? How d'ye do? Glad to see you!"\r
+\r
+"Friendship laughs at distance," began Prince Vasili in his usual rapid,\r
+self-confident, familiar tone. "Here is my second son; please love and\r
+befriend him."\r
+\r
+Prince Bolkonski surveyed Anatole.\r
+\r
+"Fine young fellow! Fine young fellow!" he said. "Well, come and kiss\r
+me," and he offered his cheek.\r
+\r
+Anatole kissed the old man, and looked at him with curiosity and perfect\r
+composure, waiting for a display of the eccentricities his father had\r
+told him to expect.\r
+\r
+Prince Bolkonski sat down in his usual place in the corner of the sofa\r
+and, drawing up an armchair for Prince Vasili, pointed to it and began\r
+questioning him about political affairs and news. He seemed to listen\r
+attentively to what Prince Vasili said, but kept glancing at Princess\r
+Mary.\r
+\r
+"And so they are writing from Potsdam already?" he said, repeating\r
+Prince Vasili's last words. Then rising, he suddenly went up to his\r
+daughter.\r
+\r
+"Is it for visitors you've got yourself up like that, eh?" said he.\r
+"Fine, very fine! You have done up your hair in this new way for the\r
+visitors, and before the visitors I tell you that in future you are\r
+never to dare to change your way of dress without my consent."\r
+\r
+"It was my fault, mon pere," interceded the little princess, with a\r
+blush.\r
+\r
+"You must do as you please," said Prince Bolkonski, bowing to his\r
+daughter-in-law, "but she need not make a fool of herself, she's plain\r
+enough as it is."\r
+\r
+And he sat down again, paying no more attention to his daughter, who was\r
+reduced to tears.\r
+\r
+"On the contrary, that coiffure suits the princess very well," said\r
+Prince Vasili.\r
+\r
+"Now you, young prince, what's your name?" said Prince Bolkonski,\r
+turning to Anatole, "come here, let us talk and get acquainted."\r
+\r
+"Now the fun begins," thought Anatole, sitting down with a smile beside\r
+the old prince.\r
+\r
+"Well, my dear boy, I hear you've been educated abroad, not taught to\r
+read and write by the deacon, like your father and me. Now tell me, my\r
+dear boy, are you serving in the Horse Guards?" asked the old man,\r
+scrutinizing Anatole closely and intently.\r
+\r
+"No, I have been transferred to the line," said Anatole, hardly able to\r
+restrain his laughter.\r
+\r
+"Ah! That's a good thing. So, my dear boy, you wish to serve the Tsar\r
+and the country? It is wartime. Such a fine fellow must serve. Well, are\r
+you off to the front?"\r
+\r
+"No, Prince, our regiment has gone to the front, but I am attached...\r
+what is it I am attached to, Papa?" said Anatole, turning to his father\r
+with a laugh.\r
+\r
+"A splendid soldier, splendid! 'What am I attached to!' Ha, ha, ha!"\r
+laughed Prince Bolkonski, and Anatole laughed still louder. Suddenly\r
+Prince Bolkonski frowned.\r
+\r
+"You may go," he said to Anatole.\r
+\r
+Anatole returned smiling to the ladies.\r
+\r
+"And so you've had him educated abroad, Prince Vasili, haven't you?"\r
+said the old prince to Prince Vasili.\r
+\r
+"I have done my best for him, and I can assure you the education there\r
+is much better than ours."\r
+\r
+"Yes, everything is different nowadays, everything is changed. The lad's\r
+a fine fellow, a fine fellow! Well, come with me now." He took Prince\r
+Vasili's arm and led him to his study. As soon as they were alone\r
+together, Prince Vasili announced his hopes and wishes to the old\r
+prince.\r
+\r
+"Well, do you think I shall prevent her, that I can't part from her?"\r
+said the old prince angrily. "What an idea! I'm ready for it tomorrow!\r
+Only let me tell you, I want to know my son-in-law better. You know my\r
+principles--everything aboveboard? I will ask her tomorrow in your\r
+presence; if she is willing, then he can stay on. He can stay and I'll\r
+see." The old prince snorted. "Let her marry, it's all the same to me!"\r
+he screamed in the same piercing tone as when parting from his son.\r
+\r
+"I will tell you frankly," said Prince Vasili in the tone of a crafty\r
+man convinced of the futility of being cunning with so keen-sighted a\r
+companion. "You know, you see right through people. Anatole is no\r
+genius, but he is an honest, goodhearted lad; an excellent son or\r
+kinsman."\r
+\r
+"All right, all right, we'll see!"\r
+\r
+As always happens when women lead lonely lives for any length of time\r
+without male society, on Anatole's appearance all the three women of\r
+Prince Bolkonski's household felt that their life had not been real till\r
+then. Their powers of reasoning, feeling, and observing immediately\r
+increased tenfold, and their life, which seemed to have been passed in\r
+darkness, was suddenly lit up by a new brightness, full of significance.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary grew quite unconscious of her face and coiffure. The\r
+handsome open face of the man who might perhaps be her husband absorbed\r
+all her attention. He seemed to her kind, brave, determined, manly, and\r
+magnanimous. She felt convinced of that. Thousands of dreams of a future\r
+family life continually rose in her imagination. She drove them away and\r
+tried to conceal them.\r
+\r
+"But am I not too cold with him?" thought the princess. "I try to be\r
+reserved because in the depth of my soul I feel too near to him already,\r
+but then he cannot know what I think of him and may imagine that I do\r
+not like him."\r
+\r
+And Princess Mary tried, but could not manage, to be cordial to her new\r
+guest. "Poor girl, she's devilish ugly!" thought Anatole.\r
+\r
+Mademoiselle Bourienne, also roused to great excitement by Anatole's\r
+arrival, thought in another way. Of course, she, a handsome young woman\r
+without any definite position, without relations or even a country, did\r
+not intend to devote her life to serving Prince Bolkonski, to reading\r
+aloud to him and being friends with Princess Mary. Mademoiselle\r
+Bourienne had long been waiting for a Russian prince who, able to\r
+appreciate at a glance her superiority to the plain, badly dressed,\r
+ungainly Russian princesses, would fall in love with her and carry her\r
+off; and here at last was a Russian prince. Mademoiselle Bourienne knew\r
+a story, heard from her aunt but finished in her own way, which she\r
+liked to repeat to herself. It was the story of a girl who had been\r
+seduced, and to whom her poor mother (sa pauvre mere) appeared, and\r
+reproached her for yielding to a man without being married. Mademoiselle\r
+Bourienne was often touched to tears as in imagination she told this\r
+story to him, her seducer. And now he, a real Russian prince, had\r
+appeared. He would carry her away and then sa pauvre mere would appear\r
+and he would marry her. So her future shaped itself in Mademoiselle\r
+Bourienne's head at the very time she was talking to Anatole about\r
+Paris. It was not calculation that guided her (she did not even for a\r
+moment consider what she should do), but all this had long been familiar\r
+to her, and now that Anatole had appeared it just grouped itself around\r
+him and she wished and tried to please him as much as possible.\r
+\r
+The little princess, like an old war horse that hears the trumpet,\r
+unconsciously and quite forgetting her condition, prepared for the\r
+familiar gallop of coquetry, without any ulterior motive or any\r
+struggle, but with naive and lighthearted gaiety.\r
+\r
+Although in female society Anatole usually assumed the role of a man\r
+tired of being run after by women, his vanity was flattered by the\r
+spectacle of his power over these three women. Besides that, he was\r
+beginning to feel for the pretty and provocative Mademoiselle Bourienne\r
+that passionate animal feeling which was apt to master him with great\r
+suddenness and prompt him to the coarsest and most reckless actions.\r
+\r
+After tea, the company went into the sitting room and Princess Mary was\r
+asked to play on the clavichord. Anatole, laughing and in high spirits,\r
+came and leaned on his elbows, facing her and beside Mademoiselle\r
+Bourienne. Princess Mary felt his look with a painfully joyous emotion.\r
+Her favorite sonata bore her into a most intimately poetic world and the\r
+look she felt upon her made that world still more poetic. But Anatole's\r
+expression, though his eyes were fixed on her, referred not to her but\r
+to the movements of Mademoiselle Bourienne's little foot, which he was\r
+then touching with his own under the clavichord. Mademoiselle Bourienne\r
+was also looking at Princess Mary, and in her lovely eyes there was a\r
+look of fearful joy and hope that was also new to the princess.\r
+\r
+"How she loves me!" thought Princess Mary. "How happy I am now, and how\r
+happy I may be with such a friend and such a husband! Husband? Can it be\r
+possible?" she thought, not daring to look at his face, but still\r
+feeling his eyes gazing at her.\r
+\r
+In the evening, after supper, when all were about to retire, Anatole\r
+kissed Princess Mary's hand. She did not know how she found the courage,\r
+but she looked straight into his handsome face as it came near to her\r
+shortsighted eyes. Turning from Princess Mary he went up and kissed\r
+Mademoiselle Bourienne's hand. (This was not etiquette, but then he did\r
+everything so simply and with such assurance!) Mademoiselle Bourienne\r
+flushed, and gave the princess a frightened look.\r
+\r
+"What delicacy!" thought the princess. "Is it possible that Amelie"\r
+(Mademoiselle Bourienne) "thinks I could be jealous of her, and not\r
+value her pure affection and devotion to me?" She went up to her and\r
+kissed her warmly. Anatole went up to kiss the little princess' hand.\r
+\r
+"No! No! No! When your father writes to tell me that you are behaving\r
+well I will give you my hand to kiss. Not till then!" she said. And\r
+smilingly raising a finger at him, she left the room.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+They all separated, but, except Anatole who fell asleep as soon as he\r
+got into bed, all kept awake a long time that night.\r
+\r
+"Is he really to be my husband, this stranger who is so kind--yes, kind,\r
+that is the chief thing," thought Princess Mary; and fear, which she had\r
+seldom experienced, came upon her. She feared to look round, it seemed\r
+to her that someone was there standing behind the screen in the dark\r
+corner. And this someone was he--the devil--and he was also this man\r
+with the white forehead, black eyebrows, and red lips.\r
+\r
+She rang for her maid and asked her to sleep in her room.\r
+\r
+Mademoiselle Bourienne walked up and down the conservatory for a long\r
+time that evening, vainly expecting someone, now smiling at someone, now\r
+working herself up to tears with the imaginary words of her pauvre mere\r
+rebuking her for her fall.\r
+\r
+The little princess grumbled to her maid that her bed was badly made.\r
+She could not lie either on her face or on her side. Every position was\r
+awkward and uncomfortable, and her burden oppressed her now more than\r
+ever because Anatole's presence had vividly recalled to her the time\r
+when she was not like that and when everything was light and gay. She\r
+sat in an armchair in her dressing jacket and nightcap and Katie, sleepy\r
+and disheveled, beat and turned the heavy feather bed for the third\r
+time, muttering to herself.\r
+\r
+"I told you it was all lumps and holes!" the little princess repeated.\r
+"I should be glad enough to fall asleep, so it's not my fault!" and her\r
+voice quivered like that of a child about to cry.\r
+\r
+The old prince did not sleep either. Tikhon, half asleep, heard him\r
+pacing angrily about and snorting. The old prince felt as though he had\r
+been insulted through his daughter. The insult was the more pointed\r
+because it concerned not himself but another, his daughter, whom he\r
+loved more than himself. He kept telling himself that he would consider\r
+the whole matter and decide what was right and how he should act, but\r
+instead of that he only excited himself more and more.\r
+\r
+"The first man that turns up--she forgets her father and everything\r
+else, runs upstairs and does up her hair and wags her tail and is unlike\r
+herself! Glad to throw her father over! And she knew I should notice it.\r
+Fr... fr... fr! And don't I see that that idiot had eyes only for\r
+Bourienne--I shall have to get rid of her. And how is it she has not\r
+pride enough to see it? If she has no pride for herself she might at\r
+least have some for my sake! She must be shown that the blockhead thinks\r
+nothing of her and looks only at Bourienne. No, she has no pride... but\r
+I'll let her see...."\r
+\r
+The old prince knew that if he told his daughter she was making a\r
+mistake and that Anatole meant to flirt with Mademoiselle Bourienne,\r
+Princess Mary's self-esteem would be wounded and his point (not to be\r
+parted from her) would be gained, so pacifying himself with this\r
+thought, he called Tikhon and began to undress.\r
+\r
+"What devil brought them here?" thought he, while Tikhon was putting the\r
+nightshirt over his dried-up old body and gray-haired chest. "I never\r
+invited them. They came to disturb my life--and there is not much of it\r
+left."\r
+\r
+"Devil take 'em!" he muttered, while his head was still covered by the\r
+shirt.\r
+\r
+Tikhon knew his master's habit of sometimes thinking aloud, and\r
+therefore met with unaltered looks the angrily inquisitive expression of\r
+the face that emerged from the shirt.\r
+\r
+"Gone to bed?" asked the prince.\r
+\r
+Tikhon, like all good valets, instinctively knew the direction of his\r
+master's thoughts. He guessed that the question referred to Prince\r
+Vasili and his son.\r
+\r
+"They have gone to bed and put out their lights, your excellency."\r
+\r
+"No good... no good..." said the prince rapidly, and thrusting his feet\r
+into his slippers and his arms into the sleeves of his dressing gown, he\r
+went to the couch on which he slept.\r
+\r
+Though no words had passed between Anatole and Mademoiselle Bourienne,\r
+they quite understood one another as to the first part of their romance,\r
+up to the appearance of the pauvre mere; they understood that they had\r
+much to say to one another in private and so they had been seeking an\r
+opportunity since morning to meet one another alone. When Princess Mary\r
+went to her father's room at the usual hour, Mademoiselle Bourienne and\r
+Anatole met in the conservatory.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary went to the door of the study with special trepidation. It\r
+seemed to her that not only did everybody know that her fate would be\r
+decided that day, but that they also knew what she thought about it. She\r
+read this in Tikhon's face and in that of Prince Vasili's valet, who\r
+made her a low bow when she met him in the corridor carrying hot water.\r
+\r
+The old prince was very affectionate and careful in his treatment of his\r
+daughter that morning. Princess Mary well knew this painstaking\r
+expression of her father's. His face wore that expression when his dry\r
+hands clenched with vexation at her not understanding a sum in\r
+arithmetic, when rising from his chair he would walk away from her,\r
+repeating in a low voice the same words several times over.\r
+\r
+He came to the point at once, treating her ceremoniously.\r
+\r
+"I have had a proposition made me concerning you," he said with an\r
+unnatural smile. "I expect you have guessed that Prince Vasili has not\r
+come and brought his pupil with him" (for some reason Prince Bolkonski\r
+referred to Anatole as a "pupil") "for the sake of my beautiful eyes.\r
+Last night a proposition was made me on your account and, as you know my\r
+principles, I refer it to you."\r
+\r
+"How am I to understand you, mon pere?" said the princess, growing pale\r
+and then blushing.\r
+\r
+"How understand me!" cried her father angrily. "Prince Vasili finds you\r
+to his taste as a daughter-in-law and makes a proposal to you on his\r
+pupil's behalf. That's how it's to be understood! 'How understand\r
+it'!... And I ask you!"\r
+\r
+"I do not know what you think, Father," whispered the princess.\r
+\r
+"I? I? What of me? Leave me out of the question. I'm not going to get\r
+married. What about you? That's what I want to know."\r
+\r
+The princess saw that her father regarded the matter with disapproval,\r
+but at that moment the thought occurred to her that her fate would be\r
+decided now or never. She lowered her eyes so as not to see the gaze\r
+under which she felt that she could not think, but would only be able to\r
+submit from habit, and she said: "I wish only to do your will, but if I\r
+had to express my own desire..." She had no time to finish. The old\r
+prince interrupted her.\r
+\r
+"That's admirable!" he shouted. "He will take you with your dowry and\r
+take Mademoiselle Bourienne into the bargain. She'll be the wife, while\r
+you..."\r
+\r
+The prince stopped. He saw the effect these words had produced on his\r
+daughter. She lowered her head and was ready to burst into tears.\r
+\r
+"Now then, now then, I'm only joking!" he said. "Remember this,\r
+Princess, I hold to the principle that a maiden has a full right to\r
+choose. I give you freedom. Only remember that your life's happiness\r
+depends on your decision. Never mind me!"\r
+\r
+"But I do not know, Father!"\r
+\r
+"There's no need to talk! He receives his orders and will marry you or\r
+anybody; but you are free to choose.... Go to your room, think it over,\r
+and come back in an hour and tell me in his presence: yes or no. I know\r
+you will pray over it. Well, pray if you like, but you had better think\r
+it over. Go! Yes or no, yes or no, yes or no!" he still shouted when the\r
+princess, as if lost in a fog, had already staggered out of the study.\r
+\r
+Her fate was decided and happily decided. But what her father had said\r
+about Mademoiselle Bourienne was dreadful. It was untrue to be sure, but\r
+still it was terrible, and she could not help thinking of it. She was\r
+going straight on through the conservatory, neither seeing nor hearing\r
+anything, when suddenly the well-known whispering of Mademoiselle\r
+Bourienne aroused her. She raised her eyes, and two steps away saw\r
+Anatole embracing the Frenchwoman and whispering something to her. With\r
+a horrified expression on his handsome face, Anatole looked at Princess\r
+Mary, but did not at once take his arm from the waist of Mademoiselle\r
+Bourienne who had not yet seen her.\r
+\r
+"Who's that? Why? Wait a moment!" Anatole's face seemed to say. Princess\r
+Mary looked at them in silence. She could not understand it. At last\r
+Mademoiselle Bourienne gave a scream and ran away. Anatole bowed to\r
+Princess Mary with a gay smile, as if inviting her to join in a laugh at\r
+this strange incident, and then shrugging his shoulders went to the door\r
+that led to his own apartments.\r
+\r
+An hour later, Tikhon came to call Princess Mary to the old prince; he\r
+added that Prince Vasili was also there. When Tikhon came to her\r
+Princess Mary was sitting on the sofa in her room, holding the weeping\r
+Mademoiselle Bourienne in her arms and gently stroking her hair. The\r
+princess' beautiful eyes with all their former calm radiance were\r
+looking with tender affection and pity at Mademoiselle Bourienne's\r
+pretty face.\r
+\r
+"No, Princess, I have lost your affection forever!" said Mademoiselle\r
+Bourienne.\r
+\r
+"Why? I love you more than ever," said Princess Mary, "and I will try to\r
+do all I can for your happiness."\r
+\r
+"But you despise me. You who are so pure can never understand being so\r
+carried away by passion. Oh, only my poor mother..."\r
+\r
+"I quite understand," answered Princess Mary, with a sad smile. "Calm\r
+yourself, my dear. I will go to my father," she said, and went out.\r
+\r
+Prince Vasili, with one leg thrown high over the other and a snuffbox in\r
+his hand, was sitting there with a smile of deep emotion on his face, as\r
+if stirred to his heart's core and himself regretting and laughing at\r
+his own sensibility, when Princess Mary entered. He hurriedly took a\r
+pinch of snuff.\r
+\r
+"Ah, my dear, my dear!" he began, rising and taking her by both hands.\r
+Then, sighing, he added: "My son's fate is in your hands. Decide, my\r
+dear, good, gentle Marie, whom I have always loved as a daughter!"\r
+\r
+He drew back and a real tear appeared in his eye.\r
+\r
+"Fr... fr..." snorted Prince Bolkonski. "The prince is making a\r
+proposition to you in his pupil's--I mean, his son's--name. Do you wish\r
+or not to be Prince Anatole Kuragin's wife? Reply: yes or no," he\r
+shouted, "and then I shall reserve the right to state my opinion also.\r
+Yes, my opinion, and only my opinion," added Prince Bolkonski, turning\r
+to Prince Vasili and answering his imploring look. "Yes, or no?"\r
+\r
+"My desire is never to leave you, Father, never to separate my life from\r
+yours. I don't wish to marry," she answered positively, glancing at\r
+Prince Vasili and at her father with her beautiful eyes.\r
+\r
+"Humbug! Nonsense! Humbug, humbug, humbug!" cried Prince Bolkonski,\r
+frowning and taking his daughter's hand; he did not kiss her, but only\r
+bending his forehead to hers just touched it, and pressed her hand so\r
+that she winced and uttered a cry.\r
+\r
+Prince Vasili rose.\r
+\r
+"My dear, I must tell you that this is a moment I shall never, never\r
+forget. But, my dear, will you not give us a little hope of touching\r
+this heart, so kind and generous? Say 'perhaps'... The future is so\r
+long. Say 'perhaps.'"\r
+\r
+"Prince, what I have said is all there is in my heart. I thank you for\r
+the honor, but I shall never be your son's wife."\r
+\r
+"Well, so that's finished, my dear fellow! I am very glad to have seen\r
+you. Very glad! Go back to your rooms, Princess. Go!" said the old\r
+prince. "Very, very glad to have seen you," repeated he, embracing\r
+Prince Vasili.\r
+\r
+"My vocation is a different one," thought Princess Mary. "My vocation is\r
+to be happy with another kind of happiness, the happiness of love and\r
+self-sacrifice. And cost what it may, I will arrange poor Amelie's\r
+happiness, she loves him so passionately, and so passionately repents. I\r
+will do all I can to arrange the match between them. If he is not rich I\r
+will give her the means; I will ask my father and Andrew. I shall be so\r
+happy when she is his wife. She is so unfortunate, a stranger, alone,\r
+helpless! And, oh God, how passionately she must love him if she could\r
+so far forget herself! Perhaps I might have done the same!..." thought\r
+Princess Mary.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+It was long since the Rostovs had news of Nicholas. Not till midwinter\r
+was the count at last handed a letter addressed in his son's\r
+handwriting. On receiving it, he ran on tiptoe to his study in alarm and\r
+haste, trying to escape notice, closed the door, and began to read the\r
+letter.\r
+\r
+Anna Mikhaylovna, who always knew everything that passed in the house,\r
+on hearing of the arrival of the letter went softly into the room and\r
+found the count with it in his hand, sobbing and laughing at the same\r
+time.\r
+\r
+Anna Mikhaylovna, though her circumstances had improved, was still\r
+living with the Rostovs.\r
+\r
+"My dear friend?" said she, in a tone of pathetic inquiry, prepared to\r
+sympathize in any way.\r
+\r
+The count sobbed yet more.\r
+\r
+"Nikolenka... a letter... wa... a... s... wounded... my darling boy...\r
+the countess... promoted to be an officer... thank God... How tell the\r
+little countess!"\r
+\r
+Anna Mikhaylovna sat down beside him, with her own handkerchief wiped\r
+the tears from his eyes and from the letter, then having dried her own\r
+eyes she comforted the count, and decided that at dinner and till\r
+teatime she would prepare the countess, and after tea, with God's help,\r
+would inform her.\r
+\r
+At dinner Anna Mikhaylovna talked the whole time about the war news and\r
+about Nikolenka, twice asked when the last letter had been received from\r
+him, though she knew that already, and remarked that they might very\r
+likely be getting a letter from him that day. Each time that these hints\r
+began to make the countess anxious and she glanced uneasily at the count\r
+and at Anna Mikhaylovna, the latter very adroitly turned the\r
+conversation to insignificant matters. Natasha, who, of the whole\r
+family, was the most gifted with a capacity to feel any shades of\r
+intonation, look, and expression, pricked up her ears from the beginning\r
+of the meal and was certain that there was some secret between her\r
+father and Anna Mikhaylovna, that it had something to do with her\r
+brother, and that Anna Mikhaylovna was preparing them for it. Bold as\r
+she was, Natasha, who knew how sensitive her mother was to anything\r
+relating to Nikolenka, did not venture to ask any questions at dinner,\r
+but she was too excited to eat anything and kept wriggling about on her\r
+chair regardless of her governess' remarks. After dinner, she rushed\r
+head long after Anna Mikhaylovna and, dashing at her, flung herself on\r
+her neck as soon as she overtook her in the sitting room.\r
+\r
+"Auntie, darling, do tell me what it is!"\r
+\r
+"Nothing, my dear."\r
+\r
+"No, dearest, sweet one, honey, I won't give up--I know you know\r
+something."\r
+\r
+Anna Mikhaylovna shook her head.\r
+\r
+"You are a little slyboots," she said.\r
+\r
+"A letter from Nikolenka! I'm sure of it!" exclaimed Natasha, reading\r
+confirmation in Anna Mikhaylovna's face.\r
+\r
+"But for God's sake, be careful, you know how it may affect your mamma."\r
+\r
+"I will, I will, only tell me! You won't? Then I will go and tell at\r
+once."\r
+\r
+Anna Mikhaylovna, in a few words, told her the contents of the letter,\r
+on condition that she should tell no one.\r
+\r
+"No, on my true word of honor," said Natasha, crossing herself, "I won't\r
+tell anyone!" and she ran off at once to Sonya.\r
+\r
+"Nikolenka... wounded... a letter," she announced in gleeful triumph.\r
+\r
+"Nicholas!" was all Sonya said, instantly turning white.\r
+\r
+Natasha, seeing the impression the news of her brother's wound produced\r
+on Sonya, felt for the first time the sorrowful side of the news.\r
+\r
+She rushed to Sonya, hugged her, and began to cry.\r
+\r
+"A little wound, but he has been made an officer; he is well now, he\r
+wrote himself," said she through her tears.\r
+\r
+"There now! It's true that all you women are crybabies," remarked Petya,\r
+pacing the room with large, resolute strides. "Now I'm very glad, very\r
+glad indeed, that my brother has distinguished himself so. You are all\r
+blubberers and understand nothing."\r
+\r
+Natasha smiled through her tears.\r
+\r
+"You haven't read the letter?" asked Sonya.\r
+\r
+"No, but she said that it was all over and that he's now an officer."\r
+\r
+"Thank God!" said Sonya, crossing herself. "But perhaps she deceived\r
+you. Let us go to Mamma."\r
+\r
+Petya paced the room in silence for a time.\r
+\r
+"If I'd been in Nikolenka's place I would have killed even more of those\r
+Frenchmen," he said. "What nasty brutes they are! I'd have killed so\r
+many that there'd have been a heap of them."\r
+\r
+"Hold your tongue, Petya, what a goose you are!"\r
+\r
+"I'm not a goose, but they are who cry about trifles," said Petya.\r
+\r
+"Do you remember him?" Natasha suddenly asked, after a moment's silence.\r
+\r
+Sonya smiled.\r
+\r
+"Do I remember Nicholas?"\r
+\r
+"No, Sonya, but do you remember so that you remember him perfectly,\r
+remember everything?" said Natasha, with an expressive gesture,\r
+evidently wishing to give her words a very definite meaning. "I remember\r
+Nikolenka too, I remember him well," she said. "But I don't remember\r
+Boris. I don't remember him a bit."\r
+\r
+"What! You don't remember Boris?" asked Sonya in surprise.\r
+\r
+"It's not that I don't remember--I know what he is like, but not as I\r
+remember Nikolenka. Him--I just shut my eyes and remember, but Boris...\r
+No!" (She shut her eyes.) "No! there's nothing at all."\r
+\r
+"Oh, Natasha!" said Sonya, looking ecstatically and earnestly at her\r
+friend as if she did not consider her worthy to hear what she meant to\r
+say and as if she were saying it to someone else, with whom joking was\r
+out of the question, "I am in love with your brother once for all and,\r
+whatever may happen to him or to me, shall never cease to love him as\r
+long as I live."\r
+\r
+Natasha looked at Sonya with wondering and inquisitive eyes, and said\r
+nothing. She felt that Sonya was speaking the truth, that there was such\r
+love as Sonya was speaking of. But Natasha had not yet felt anything\r
+like it. She believed it could be, but did not understand it.\r
+\r
+"Shall you write to him?" she asked.\r
+\r
+Sonya became thoughtful. The question of how to write to Nicholas, and\r
+whether she ought to write, tormented her. Now that he was already an\r
+officer and a wounded hero, would it be right to remind him of herself\r
+and, as it might seem, of the obligations to her he had taken on\r
+himself?\r
+\r
+"I don't know. I think if he writes, I will write too," she said,\r
+blushing.\r
+\r
+"And you won't feel ashamed to write to him?"\r
+\r
+Sonya smiled.\r
+\r
+"No."\r
+\r
+"And I should be ashamed to write to Boris. I'm not going to."\r
+\r
+"Why should you be ashamed?"\r
+\r
+"Well, I don't know. It's awkward and would make me ashamed."\r
+\r
+"And I know why she'd be ashamed," said Petya, offended by Natasha's\r
+previous remark. "It's because she was in love with that fat one in\r
+spectacles" (that was how Petya described his namesake, the new Count\r
+Bezukhov) "and now she's in love with that singer" (he meant Natasha's\r
+Italian singing master), "that's why she's ashamed!"\r
+\r
+"Petya, you're a stupid!" said Natasha.\r
+\r
+"Not more stupid than you, madam," said the nine-year-old Petya, with\r
+the air of an old brigadier.\r
+\r
+The countess had been prepared by Anna Mikhaylovna's hints at dinner. On\r
+retiring to her own room, she sat in an armchair, her eyes fixed on a\r
+miniature portrait of her son on the lid of a snuffbox, while the tears\r
+kept coming into her eyes. Anna Mikhaylovna, with the letter, came on\r
+tiptoe to the countess' door and paused.\r
+\r
+"Don't come in," she said to the old count who was following her. "Come\r
+later." And she went in, closing the door behind her.\r
+\r
+The count put his ear to the keyhole and listened.\r
+\r
+At first he heard the sound of indifferent voices, then Anna\r
+Mikhaylovna's voice alone in a long speech, then a cry, then silence,\r
+then both voices together with glad intonations, and then footsteps.\r
+Anna Mikhaylovna opened the door. Her face wore the proud expression of\r
+a surgeon who has just performed a difficult operation and admits the\r
+public to appreciate his skill.\r
+\r
+"It is done!" she said to the count, pointing triumphantly to the\r
+countess, who sat holding in one hand the snuffbox with its portrait and\r
+in the other the letter, and pressing them alternately to her lips.\r
+\r
+When she saw the count, she stretched out her arms to him, embraced his\r
+bald head, over which she again looked at the letter and the portrait,\r
+and in order to press them again to her lips, she slightly pushed away\r
+the bald head. Vera, Natasha, Sonya, and Petya now entered the room, and\r
+the reading of the letter began. After a brief description of the\r
+campaign and the two battles in which he had taken part, and his\r
+promotion, Nicholas said that he kissed his father's and mother's hands\r
+asking for their blessing, and that he kissed Vera, Natasha, and Petya.\r
+Besides that, he sent greetings to Monsieur Schelling, Madame Schoss,\r
+and his old nurse, and asked them to kiss for him "dear Sonya, whom he\r
+loved and thought of just the same as ever." When she heard this Sonya\r
+blushed so that tears came into her eyes and, unable to bear the looks\r
+turned upon her, ran away into the dancing hall, whirled round it at\r
+full speed with her dress puffed out like a balloon, and, flushed and\r
+smiling, plumped down on the floor. The countess was crying.\r
+\r
+"Why are you crying, Mamma?" asked Vera. "From all he says one should be\r
+glad and not cry."\r
+\r
+This was quite true, but the count, the countess, and Natasha looked at\r
+her reproachfully. "And who is it she takes after?" thought the\r
+countess.\r
+\r
+Nicholas' letter was read over hundreds of times, and those who were\r
+considered worthy to hear it had to come to the countess, for she did\r
+not let it out of her hands. The tutors came, and the nurses, and\r
+Dmitri, and several acquaintances, and the countess reread the letter\r
+each time with fresh pleasure and each time discovered in it fresh\r
+proofs of Nikolenka's virtues. How strange, how extraordinary, how\r
+joyful it seemed, that her son, the scarcely perceptible motion of whose\r
+tiny limbs she had felt twenty years ago within her, that son about whom\r
+she used to have quarrels with the too indulgent count, that son who had\r
+first learned to say "pear" and then "granny," that this son should now\r
+be away in a foreign land amid strange surroundings, a manly warrior\r
+doing some kind of man's work of his own, without help or guidance. The\r
+universal experience of ages, showing that children do grow\r
+imperceptibly from the cradle to manhood, did not exist for the\r
+countess. Her son's growth toward manhood, at each of its stages, had\r
+seemed as extraordinary to her as if there had never existed the\r
+millions of human beings who grew up in the same way. As twenty years\r
+before, it seemed impossible that the little creature who lived\r
+somewhere under her heart would ever cry, suck her breast, and begin to\r
+speak, so now she could not believe that that little creature could be\r
+this strong, brave man, this model son and officer that, judging by this\r
+letter, he now was.\r
+\r
+"What a style! How charmingly he describes!" said she, reading the\r
+descriptive part of the letter. "And what a soul! Not a word about\r
+himself.... Not a word! About some Denisov or other, though he himself,\r
+I dare say, is braver than any of them. He says nothing about his\r
+sufferings. What a heart! How like him it is! And how he has remembered\r
+everybody! Not forgetting anyone. I always said when he was only so\r
+high--I always said...."\r
+\r
+For more than a week preparations were being made, rough drafts of\r
+letters to Nicholas from all the household were written and copied out,\r
+while under the supervision of the countess and the solicitude of the\r
+count, money and all things necessary for the uniform and equipment of\r
+the newly commissioned officer were collected. Anna Mikhaylovna,\r
+practical woman that she was, had even managed by favor with army\r
+authorities to secure advantageous means of communication for herself\r
+and her son. She had opportunities of sending her letters to the Grand\r
+Duke Constantine Pavlovich, who commanded the Guards. The Rostovs\r
+supposed that The Russian Guards, Abroad, was quite a definite address,\r
+and that if a letter reached the Grand Duke in command of the Guards\r
+there was no reason why it should not reach the Pavlograd regiment,\r
+which was presumably somewhere in the same neighborhood. And so it was\r
+decided to send the letters and money by the Grand Duke's courier to\r
+Boris and Boris was to forward them to Nicholas. The letters were from\r
+the old count, the countess, Petya, Vera, Natasha, and Sonya, and\r
+finally there were six thousand rubles for his outfit and various other\r
+things the old count sent to his son.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+On the twelfth of November, Kutuzov's active army, in camp before\r
+Olmutz, was preparing to be reviewed next day by the two Emperors--the\r
+Russian and the Austrian. The Guards, just arrived from Russia, spent\r
+the night ten miles from Olmutz and next morning were to come straight\r
+to the review, reaching the field at Olmutz by ten o'clock.\r
+\r
+That day Nicholas Rostov received a letter from Boris, telling him that\r
+the Ismaylov regiment was quartered for the night ten miles from Olmutz\r
+and that he wanted to see him as he had a letter and money for him.\r
+Rostov was particularly in need of money now that the troops, after\r
+their active service, were stationed near Olmutz and the camp swarmed\r
+with well-provisioned sutlers and Austrian Jews offering all sorts of\r
+tempting wares. The Pavlograds held feast after feast, celebrating\r
+awards they had received for the campaign, and made expeditions to\r
+Olmutz to visit a certain Caroline the Hungarian, who had recently\r
+opened a restaurant there with girls as waitresses. Rostov, who had just\r
+celebrated his promotion to a cornetcy and bought Denisov's horse,\r
+Bedouin, was in debt all round, to his comrades and the sutlers. On\r
+receiving Boris' letter he rode with a fellow officer to Olmutz, dined\r
+there, drank a bottle of wine, and then set off alone to the Guards'\r
+camp to find his old playmate. Rostov had not yet had time to get his\r
+uniform. He had on a shabby cadet jacket, decorated with a soldier's\r
+cross, equally shabby cadet's riding breeches lined with worn leather,\r
+and an officer's saber with a sword knot. The Don horse he was riding\r
+was one he had bought from a Cossack during the campaign, and he wore a\r
+crumpled hussar cap stuck jauntily back on one side of his head. As he\r
+rode up to the camp he thought how he would impress Boris and all his\r
+comrades of the Guards by his appearance--that of a fighting hussar who\r
+had been under fire.\r
+\r
+The Guards had made their whole march as if on a pleasure trip, parading\r
+their cleanliness and discipline. They had come by easy stages, their\r
+knapsacks conveyed on carts, and the Austrian authorities had provided\r
+excellent dinners for the officers at every halting place. The regiments\r
+had entered and left the town with their bands playing, and by the Grand\r
+Duke's orders the men had marched all the way in step (a practice on\r
+which the Guards prided themselves), the officers on foot and at their\r
+proper posts. Boris had been quartered, and had marched all the way,\r
+with Berg who was already in command of a company. Berg, who had\r
+obtained his captaincy during the campaign, had gained the confidence of\r
+his superiors by his promptitude and accuracy and had arranged his money\r
+matters very satisfactorily. Boris, during the campaign, had made the\r
+acquaintance of many persons who might prove useful to him, and by a\r
+letter of recommendation he had brought from Pierre had become\r
+acquainted with Prince Andrew Bolkonski, through whom he hoped to obtain\r
+a post on the commander-in-chief's staff. Berg and Boris, having rested\r
+after yesterday's march, were sitting, clean and neatly dressed, at a\r
+round table in the clean quarters allotted to them, playing chess. Berg\r
+held a smoking pipe between his knees. Boris, in the accurate way\r
+characteristic of him, was building a little pyramid of chessmen with\r
+his delicate white fingers while awaiting Berg's move, and watched his\r
+opponent's face, evidently thinking about the game as he always thought\r
+only of whatever he was engaged on.\r
+\r
+"Well, how are you going to get out of that?" he remarked.\r
+\r
+"We'll try to," replied Berg, touching a pawn and then removing his\r
+hand.\r
+\r
+At that moment the door opened.\r
+\r
+"Here he is at last!" shouted Rostov. "And Berg too! Oh, you\r
+petisenfans, allay cushay dormir!" he exclaimed, imitating his Russian\r
+nurse's French, at which he and Boris used to laugh long ago.\r
+\r
+"Dear me, how you have changed!"\r
+\r
+Boris rose to meet Rostov, but in doing so did not omit to steady and\r
+replace some chessmen that were falling. He was about to embrace his\r
+friend, but Nicholas avoided him. With that peculiar feeling of youth,\r
+that dread of beaten tracks, and wish to express itself in a manner\r
+different from that of its elders which is often insincere, Nicholas\r
+wished to do something special on meeting his friend. He wanted to pinch\r
+him, push him, do anything but kiss him--a thing everybody did. But\r
+notwithstanding this, Boris embraced him in a quiet, friendly way and\r
+kissed him three times.\r
+\r
+They had not met for nearly half a year and, being at the age when young\r
+men take their first steps on life's road, each saw immense changes in\r
+the other, quite a new reflection of the society in which they had taken\r
+those first steps. Both had changed greatly since they last met and both\r
+were in a hurry to show the changes that had taken place in them.\r
+\r
+"Oh, you damned dandies! Clean and fresh as if you'd been to a fete, not\r
+like us sinners of the line," cried Rostov, with martial swagger and\r
+with baritone notes in his voice, new to Boris, pointing to his own mud-\r
+bespattered breeches. The German landlady, hearing Rostov's loud voice,\r
+popped her head in at the door.\r
+\r
+"Eh, is she pretty?" he asked with a wink.\r
+\r
+"Why do you shout so? You'll frighten them!" said Boris. "I did not\r
+expect you today," he added. "I only sent you the note yesterday by\r
+Bolkonski--an adjutant of Kutuzov's, who's a friend of mine. I did not\r
+think he would get it to you so quickly.... Well, how are you? Been\r
+under fire already?" asked Boris.\r
+\r
+Without answering, Rostov shook the soldier's Cross of St. George\r
+fastened to the cording of his uniform and, indicating a bandaged arm,\r
+glanced at Berg with a smile.\r
+\r
+"As you see," he said.\r
+\r
+"Indeed? Yes, yes!" said Boris, with a smile. "And we too have had a\r
+splendid march. You know, of course, that His Imperial Highness rode\r
+with our regiment all the time, so that we had every comfort and every\r
+advantage. What receptions we had in Poland! What dinners and balls! I\r
+can't tell you. And the Tsarevich was very gracious to all our\r
+officers."\r
+\r
+And the two friends told each other of their doings, the one of his\r
+hussar revels and life in the fighting line, the other of the pleasures\r
+and advantages of service under members of the Imperial family.\r
+\r
+"Oh, you Guards!" said Rostov. "I say, send for some wine."\r
+\r
+Boris made a grimace.\r
+\r
+"If you really want it," said he.\r
+\r
+He went to his bed, drew a purse from under the clean pillow, and sent\r
+for wine.\r
+\r
+"Yes, and I have some money and a letter to give you," he added.\r
+\r
+Rostov took the letter and, throwing the money on the sofa, put both\r
+arms on the table and began to read. After reading a few lines, he\r
+glanced angrily at Berg, then, meeting his eyes, hid his face behind the\r
+letter.\r
+\r
+"Well, they've sent you a tidy sum," said Berg, eying the heavy purse\r
+that sank into the sofa. "As for us, Count, we get along on our pay. I\r
+can tell you for myself..."\r
+\r
+"I say, Berg, my dear fellow," said Rostov, "when you get a letter from\r
+home and meet one of your own people whom you want to talk everything\r
+over with, and I happen to be there, I'll go at once, to be out of your\r
+way! Do go somewhere, anywhere... to the devil!" he exclaimed, and\r
+immediately seizing him by the shoulder and looking amiably into his\r
+face, evidently wishing to soften the rudeness of his words, he added,\r
+"Don't be hurt, my dear fellow; you know I speak from my heart as to an\r
+old acquaintance."\r
+\r
+"Oh, don't mention it, Count! I quite understand," said Berg, getting up\r
+and speaking in a muffled and guttural voice.\r
+\r
+"Go across to our hosts: they invited you," added Boris.\r
+\r
+Berg put on the cleanest of coats, without a spot or speck of dust,\r
+stood before a looking glass and brushed the hair on his temples\r
+upwards, in the way affected by the Emperor Alexander, and, having\r
+assured himself from the way Rostov looked at it that his coat had been\r
+noticed, left the room with a pleasant smile.\r
+\r
+"Oh dear, what a beast I am!" muttered Rostov, as he read the letter.\r
+\r
+"Why?"\r
+\r
+"Oh, what a pig I am, not to have written and to have given them such a\r
+fright! Oh, what a pig I am!" he repeated, flushing suddenly. "Well,\r
+have you sent Gabriel for some wine? All right let's have some!"\r
+\r
+In the letter from his parents was enclosed a letter of recommendation\r
+to Bagration which the old countess at Anna Mikhaylovna's advice had\r
+obtained through an acquaintance and sent to her son, asking him to take\r
+it to its destination and make use of it.\r
+\r
+"What nonsense! Much I need it!" said Rostov, throwing the letter under\r
+the table.\r
+\r
+"Why have you thrown that away?" asked Boris.\r
+\r
+"It is some letter of recommendation... what the devil do I want it\r
+for!"\r
+\r
+"Why 'What the devil'?" said Boris, picking it up and reading the\r
+address. "This letter would be of great use to you."\r
+\r
+"I want nothing, and I won't be anyone's adjutant."\r
+\r
+"Why not?" inquired Boris.\r
+\r
+"It's a lackey's job!"\r
+\r
+"You are still the same dreamer, I see," remarked Boris, shaking his\r
+head.\r
+\r
+"And you're still the same diplomatist! But that's not the point...\r
+Come, how are you?" asked Rostov.\r
+\r
+"Well, as you see. So far everything's all right, but I confess I should\r
+much like to be an adjutant and not remain at the front."\r
+\r
+"Why?"\r
+\r
+"Because when once a man starts on military service, he should try to\r
+make as successful a career of it as possible."\r
+\r
+"Oh, that's it!" said Rostov, evidently thinking of something else.\r
+\r
+He looked intently and inquiringly into his friend's eyes, evidently\r
+trying in vain to find the answer to some question.\r
+\r
+Old Gabriel brought in the wine.\r
+\r
+"Shouldn't we now send for Berg?" asked Boris. "He would drink with you.\r
+I can't."\r
+\r
+"Well, send for him... and how do you get on with that German?" asked\r
+Rostov, with a contemptuous smile.\r
+\r
+"He is a very, very nice, honest, and pleasant fellow," answered Boris.\r
+\r
+Again Rostov looked intently into Boris' eyes and sighed. Berg returned,\r
+and over the bottle of wine conversation between the three officers\r
+became animated. The Guardsmen told Rostov of their march and how they\r
+had been made much of in Russia, Poland, and abroad. They spoke of the\r
+sayings and doings of their commander, the Grand Duke, and told stories\r
+of his kindness and irascibility. Berg, as usual, kept silent when the\r
+subject did not relate to himself, but in connection with the stories of\r
+the Grand Duke's quick temper he related with gusto how in Galicia he\r
+had managed to deal with the Grand Duke when the latter made a tour of\r
+the regiments and was annoyed at the irregularity of a movement. With a\r
+pleasant smile Berg related how the Grand Duke had ridden up to him in a\r
+violent passion, shouting: "Arnauts!" ("Arnauts" was the Tsarevich's\r
+favorite expression when he was in a rage) and called for the company\r
+commander.\r
+\r
+"Would you believe it, Count, I was not at all alarmed, because I knew I\r
+was right. Without boasting, you know, I may say that I know the Army\r
+Orders by heart and know the Regulations as well as I do the Lord's\r
+Prayer. So, Count, there never is any negligence in my company, and so\r
+my conscience was at ease. I came forward...." (Berg stood up and showed\r
+how he presented himself, with his hand to his cap, and really it would\r
+have been difficult for a face to express greater respect and self-\r
+complacency than his did.) "Well, he stormed at me, as the saying is,\r
+stormed and stormed and stormed! It was not a matter of life but rather\r
+of death, as the saying is. 'Albanians!' and 'devils!' and 'To\r
+Siberia!'" said Berg with a sagacious smile. "I knew I was in the right\r
+so I kept silent; was not that best, Count?... 'Hey, are you dumb?' he\r
+shouted. Still I remained silent. And what do you think, Count? The next\r
+day it was not even mentioned in the Orders of the Day. That's what\r
+keeping one's head means. That's the way, Count," said Berg, lighting\r
+his pipe and emitting rings of smoke.\r
+\r
+"Yes, that was fine," said Rostov, smiling.\r
+\r
+But Boris noticed that he was preparing to make fun of Berg, and\r
+skillfully changed the subject. He asked him to tell them how and where\r
+he got his wound. This pleased Rostov and he began talking about it, and\r
+as he went on became more and more animated. He told them of his Schon\r
+Grabern affair, just as those who have taken part in a battle generally\r
+do describe it, that is, as they would like it to have been, as they\r
+have heard it described by others, and as sounds well, but not at all as\r
+it really was. Rostov was a truthful young man and would on no account\r
+have told a deliberate lie. He began his story meaning to tell\r
+everything just as it happened, but imperceptibly, involuntarily, and\r
+inevitably he lapsed into falsehood. If he had told the truth to his\r
+hearers--who like himself had often heard stories of attacks and had\r
+formed a definite idea of what an attack was and were expecting to hear\r
+just such a story--they would either not have believed him or, still\r
+worse, would have thought that Rostov was himself to blame since what\r
+generally happens to the narrators of cavalry attacks had not happened\r
+to him. He could not tell them simply that everyone went at a trot and\r
+that he fell off his horse and sprained his arm and then ran as hard as\r
+he could from a Frenchman into the wood. Besides, to tell everything as\r
+it really happened, it would have been necessary to make an effort of\r
+will to tell only what happened. It is very difficult to tell the truth,\r
+and young people are rarely capable of it. His hearers expected a story\r
+of how beside himself and all aflame with excitement, he had flown like\r
+a storm at the square, cut his way in, slashed right and left, how his\r
+saber had tasted flesh and he had fallen exhausted, and so on. And so he\r
+told them all that.\r
+\r
+In the middle of his story, just as he was saying: "You cannot imagine\r
+what a strange frenzy one experiences during an attack," Prince Andrew,\r
+whom Boris was expecting, entered the room. Prince Andrew, who liked to\r
+help young men, was flattered by being asked for his assistance and\r
+being well disposed toward Boris, who had managed to please him the day\r
+before, he wished to do what the young man wanted. Having been sent with\r
+papers from Kutuzov to the Tsarevich, he looked in on Boris, hoping to\r
+find him alone. When he came in and saw an hussar of the line recounting\r
+his military exploits (Prince Andrew could not endure that sort of man),\r
+he gave Boris a pleasant smile, frowned as with half-closed eyes he\r
+looked at Rostov, bowed slightly and wearily, and sat down languidly on\r
+the sofa: he felt it unpleasant to have dropped in on bad company.\r
+Rostov flushed up on noticing this, but he did not care, this was a mere\r
+stranger. Glancing, however, at Boris, he saw that he too seemed ashamed\r
+of the hussar of the line.\r
+\r
+In spite of Prince Andrew's disagreeable, ironical tone, in spite of the\r
+contempt with which Rostov, from his fighting army point of view,\r
+regarded all these little adjutants on the staff of whom the newcomer\r
+was evidently one, Rostov felt confused, blushed, and became silent.\r
+Boris inquired what news there might be on the staff, and what, without\r
+indiscretion, one might ask about our plans.\r
+\r
+"We shall probably advance," replied Bolkonski, evidently reluctant to\r
+say more in the presence of a stranger.\r
+\r
+Berg took the opportunity to ask, with great politeness, whether, as was\r
+rumored, the allowance of forage money to captains of companies would be\r
+doubled. To this Prince Andrew answered with a smile that he could give\r
+no opinion on such an important government order, and Berg laughed\r
+gaily.\r
+\r
+"As to your business," Prince Andrew continued, addressing Boris, "we\r
+will talk of it later" (and he looked round at Rostov). "Come to me\r
+after the review and we will do what is possible."\r
+\r
+And, having glanced round the room, Prince Andrew turned to Rostov,\r
+whose state of unconquerable childish embarrassment now changing to\r
+anger he did not condescend to notice, and said: "I think you were\r
+talking of the Schon Grabern affair? Were you there?"\r
+\r
+"I was there," said Rostov angrily, as if intending to insult the aide-\r
+de-camp.\r
+\r
+Bolkonski noticed the hussar's state of mind, and it amused him. With a\r
+slightly contemptuous smile, he said: "Yes, there are many stories now\r
+told about that affair!"\r
+\r
+"Yes, stories!" repeated Rostov loudly, looking with eyes suddenly grown\r
+furious, now at Boris, now at Bolkonski. "Yes, many stories! But our\r
+stories are the stories of men who have been under the enemy's fire! Our\r
+stories have some weight, not like the stories of those fellows on the\r
+staff who get rewards without doing anything!"\r
+\r
+"Of whom you imagine me to be one?" said Prince Andrew, with a quiet and\r
+particularly amiable smile.\r
+\r
+A strange feeling of exasperation and yet of respect for this man's\r
+self-possession mingled at that moment in Rostov's soul.\r
+\r
+"I am not talking about you," he said, "I don't know you and, frankly, I\r
+don't want to. I am speaking of the staff in general."\r
+\r
+"And I will tell you this," Prince Andrew interrupted in a tone of quiet\r
+authority, "you wish to insult me, and I am ready to agree with you that\r
+it would be very easy to do so if you haven't sufficient self-respect,\r
+but admit that the time and place are very badly chosen. In a day or two\r
+we shall all have to take part in a greater and more serious duel, and\r
+besides, Drubetskoy, who says he is an old friend of yours, is not at\r
+all to blame that my face has the misfortune to displease you. However,"\r
+he added rising, "you know my name and where to find me, but don't\r
+forget that I do not regard either myself or you as having been at all\r
+insulted, and as a man older than you, my advice is to let the matter\r
+drop. Well then, on Friday after the review I shall expect you,\r
+Drubetskoy. Au revoir!" exclaimed Prince Andrew, and with a bow to them\r
+both he went out.\r
+\r
+Only when Prince Andrew was gone did Rostov think of what he ought to\r
+have said. And he was still more angry at having omitted to say it. He\r
+ordered his horse at once and, coldly taking leave of Boris, rode home.\r
+Should he go to headquarters next day and challenge that affected\r
+adjutant, or really let the matter drop, was the question that worried\r
+him all the way. He thought angrily of the pleasure he would have at\r
+seeing the fright of that small and frail but proud man when covered by\r
+his pistol, and then he felt with surprise that of all the men he knew\r
+there was none he would so much like to have for a friend as that very\r
+adjutant whom he so hated.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+The day after Rostov had been to see Boris, a review was held of the\r
+Austrian and Russian troops, both those freshly arrived from Russia and\r
+those who had been campaigning under Kutuzov. The two Emperors, the\r
+Russian with his heir the Tsarevich, and the Austrian with the Archduke,\r
+inspected the allied army of eighty thousand men.\r
+\r
+From early morning the smart clean troops were on the move, forming up\r
+on the field before the fortress. Now thousands of feet and bayonets\r
+moved and halted at the officers' command, turned with banners flying,\r
+formed up at intervals, and wheeled round other similar masses of\r
+infantry in different uniforms; now was heard the rhythmic beat of hoofs\r
+and the jingling of showy cavalry in blue, red, and green braided\r
+uniforms, with smartly dressed bandsmen in front mounted on black, roan,\r
+or gray horses; then again, spreading out with the brazen clatter of the\r
+polished shining cannon that quivered on the gun carriages and with the\r
+smell of linstocks, came the artillery which crawled between the\r
+infantry and cavalry and took up its appointed position. Not only the\r
+generals in full parade uniforms, with their thin or thick waists drawn\r
+in to the utmost, their red necks squeezed into their stiff collars, and\r
+wearing scarves and all their decorations, not only the elegant, pomaded\r
+officers, but every soldier with his freshly washed and shaven face and\r
+his weapons clean and polished to the utmost, and every horse groomed\r
+till its coat shone like satin and every hair of its wetted mane lay\r
+smooth--felt that no small matter was happening, but an important and\r
+solemn affair. Every general and every soldier was conscious of his own\r
+insignificance, aware of being but a drop in that ocean of men, and yet\r
+at the same time was conscious of his strength as a part of that\r
+enormous whole.\r
+\r
+From early morning strenuous activities and efforts had begun and by ten\r
+o'clock all had been brought into due order. The ranks were drawn up on\r
+the vast field. The whole army was extended in three lines: the cavalry\r
+in front, behind it the artillery, and behind that again the infantry.\r
+\r
+A space like a street was left between each two lines of troops. The\r
+three parts of that army were sharply distinguished: Kutuzov's fighting\r
+army (with the Pavlograds on the right flank of the front); those\r
+recently arrived from Russia, both Guards and regiments of the line; and\r
+the Austrian troops. But they all stood in the same lines, under one\r
+command, and in a like order.\r
+\r
+Like wind over leaves ran an excited whisper: "They're coming! They're\r
+coming!" Alarmed voices were heard, and a stir of final preparation\r
+swept over all the troops.\r
+\r
+From the direction of Olmutz in front of them, a group was seen\r
+approaching. And at that moment, though the day was still, a light gust\r
+of wind blowing over the army slightly stirred the streamers on the\r
+lances and the unfolded standards fluttered against their staffs. It\r
+looked as if by that slight motion the army itself was expressing its\r
+joy at the approach of the Emperors. One voice was heard shouting: "Eyes\r
+front!" Then, like the crowing of cocks at sunrise, this was repeated by\r
+others from various sides and all became silent.\r
+\r
+In the deathlike stillness only the tramp of horses was heard. This was\r
+the Emperors' suites. The Emperors rode up to the flank, and the\r
+trumpets of the first cavalry regiment played the general march. It\r
+seemed as though not the trumpeters were playing, but as if the army\r
+itself, rejoicing at the Emperors' approach, had naturally burst into\r
+music. Amid these sounds, only the youthful kindly voice of the Emperor\r
+Alexander was clearly heard. He gave the words of greeting, and the\r
+first regiment roared "Hurrah!" so deafeningly, continuously, and\r
+joyfully that the men themselves were awed by their multitude and the\r
+immensity of the power they constituted.\r
+\r
+Rostov, standing in the front lines of Kutuzov's army which the Tsar\r
+approached first, experienced the same feeling as every other man in\r
+that army: a feeling of self-forgetfulness, a proud consciousness of\r
+might, and a passionate attraction to him who was the cause of this\r
+triumph.\r
+\r
+He felt that at a single word from that man all this vast mass (and he\r
+himself an insignificant atom in it) would go through fire and water,\r
+commit crime, die, or perform deeds of highest heroism, and so he could\r
+not but tremble and his heart stand still at the imminence of that word.\r
+\r
+"Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!" thundered from all sides, one regiment after\r
+another greeting the Tsar with the strains of the march, and then\r
+"Hurrah!"... Then the general march, and again "Hurrah! Hurrah!" growing\r
+ever stronger and fuller and merging into a deafening roar.\r
+\r
+Till the Tsar reached it, each regiment in its silence and immobility\r
+seemed like a lifeless body, but as soon as he came up it became alive,\r
+its thunder joining the roar of the whole line along which he had\r
+already passed. Through the terrible and deafening roar of those voices,\r
+amid the square masses of troops standing motionless as if turned to\r
+stone, hundreds of riders composing the suites moved carelessly but\r
+symmetrically and above all freely, and in front of them two men--the\r
+Emperors. Upon them the undivided, tensely passionate attention of that\r
+whole mass of men was concentrated.\r
+\r
+The handsome young Emperor Alexander, in the uniform of the Horse\r
+Guards, wearing a cocked hat with its peaks front and back, with his\r
+pleasant face and resonant though not loud voice, attracted everyone's\r
+attention.\r
+\r
+Rostov was not far from the trumpeters, and with his keen sight had\r
+recognized the Tsar and watched his approach. When he was within twenty\r
+paces, and Nicholas could clearly distinguish every detail of his\r
+handsome, happy young face, he experienced a feeling of tenderness and\r
+ecstasy such as he had never before known. Every trait and every\r
+movement of the Tsar's seemed to him enchanting.\r
+\r
+Stopping in front of the Pavlograds, the Tsar said something in French\r
+to the Austrian Emperor and smiled.\r
+\r
+Seeing that smile, Rostov involuntarily smiled himself and felt a still\r
+stronger flow of love for his sovereign. He longed to show that love in\r
+some way and knowing that this was impossible was ready to cry. The Tsar\r
+called the colonel of the regiment and said a few words to him.\r
+\r
+"Oh God, what would happen to me if the Emperor spoke to me?" thought\r
+Rostov. "I should die of happiness!"\r
+\r
+The Tsar addressed the officers also: "I thank you all, gentlemen, I\r
+thank you with my whole heart." To Rostov every word sounded like a\r
+voice from heaven. How gladly would he have died at once for his Tsar!\r
+\r
+"You have earned the St. George's standards and will be worthy of them."\r
+\r
+"Oh, to die, to die for him," thought Rostov.\r
+\r
+The Tsar said something more which Rostov did not hear, and the\r
+soldiers, straining their lungs, shouted "Hurrah!"\r
+\r
+Rostov too, bending over his saddle, shouted "Hurrah!" with all his\r
+might, feeling that he would like to injure himself by that shout, if\r
+only to express his rapture fully.\r
+\r
+The Tsar stopped a few minutes in front of the hussars as if undecided.\r
+\r
+"How can the Emperor be undecided?" thought Rostov, but then even this\r
+indecision appeared to him majestic and enchanting, like everything else\r
+the Tsar did.\r
+\r
+That hesitation lasted only an instant. The Tsar's foot, in the narrow\r
+pointed boot then fashionable, touched the groin of the bobtailed bay\r
+mare he rode, his hand in a white glove gathered up the reins, and he\r
+moved off accompanied by an irregularly swaying sea of aides-de-camp.\r
+Farther and farther he rode away, stopping at other regiments, till at\r
+last only his white plumes were visible to Rostov from amid the suites\r
+that surrounded the Emperors.\r
+\r
+Among the gentlemen of the suite, Rostov noticed Bolkonski, sitting his\r
+horse indolently and carelessly. Rostov recalled their quarrel of\r
+yesterday and the question presented itself whether he ought or ought\r
+not to challenge Bolkonski. "Of course not!" he now thought. "Is it\r
+worth thinking or speaking of it at such a moment? At a time of such\r
+love, such rapture, and such self-sacrifice, what do any of our quarrels\r
+and affronts matter? I love and forgive everybody now."\r
+\r
+When the Emperor had passed nearly all the regiments, the troops began a\r
+ceremonial march past him, and Rostov on Bedouin, recently purchased\r
+from Denisov, rode past too, at the rear of his squadron--that is, alone\r
+and in full view of the Emperor.\r
+\r
+Before he reached him, Rostov, who was a splendid horseman, spurred\r
+Bedouin twice and successfully put him to the showy trot in which the\r
+animal went when excited. Bending his foaming muzzle to his chest, his\r
+tail extended, Bedouin, as if also conscious of the Emperor's eye upon\r
+him, passed splendidly, lifting his feet with a high and graceful\r
+action, as if flying through the air without touching the ground.\r
+\r
+Rostov himself, his legs well back and his stomach drawn in and feeling\r
+himself one with his horse, rode past the Emperor with a frowning but\r
+blissful face "like a vewy devil," as Denisov expressed it.\r
+\r
+"Fine fellows, the Pavlograds!" remarked the Emperor.\r
+\r
+"My God, how happy I should be if he ordered me to leap into the fire\r
+this instant!" thought Rostov.\r
+\r
+When the review was over, the newly arrived officers, and also\r
+Kutuzov's, collected in groups and began to talk about the awards, about\r
+the Austrians and their uniforms, about their lines, about Bonaparte,\r
+and how badly the latter would fare now, especially if the Essen corps\r
+arrived and Prussia took our side.\r
+\r
+But the talk in every group was chiefly about the Emperor Alexander. His\r
+every word and movement was described with ecstasy.\r
+\r
+They all had but one wish: to advance as soon as possible against the\r
+enemy under the Emperor's command. Commanded by the Emperor himself they\r
+could not fail to vanquish anyone, be it whom it might: so thought\r
+Rostov and most of the officers after the review.\r
+\r
+All were then more confident of victory than the winning of two battles\r
+would have made them.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+The day after the review, Boris, in his best uniform and with his\r
+comrade Berg's best wishes for success, rode to Olmutz to see Bolkonski,\r
+wishing to profit by his friendliness and obtain for himself the best\r
+post he could--preferably that of adjutant to some important personage,\r
+a position in the army which seemed to him most attractive. "It is all\r
+very well for Rostov, whose father sends him ten thousand rubles at a\r
+time, to talk about not wishing to cringe to anybody and not be anyone's\r
+lackey, but I who have nothing but my brains have to make a career and\r
+must not miss opportunities, but must avail myself of them!" he\r
+reflected.\r
+\r
+He did not find Prince Andrew in Olmutz that day, but the appearance of\r
+the town where the headquarters and the diplomatic corps were stationed\r
+and the two Emperors were living with their suites, households, and\r
+courts only strengthened his desire to belong to that higher world.\r
+\r
+He knew no one, and despite his smart Guardsman's uniform, all these\r
+exalted personages passing in the streets in their elegant carriages\r
+with their plumes, ribbons, and medals, both courtiers and military men,\r
+seemed so immeasurably above him, an insignificant officer of the\r
+Guards, that they not only did not wish to, but simply could not, be\r
+aware of his existence. At the quarters of the commander-in-chief,\r
+Kutuzov, where he inquired for Bolkonski, all the adjutants and even the\r
+orderlies looked at him as if they wished to impress on him that a great\r
+many officers like him were always coming there and that everybody was\r
+heartily sick of them. In spite of this, or rather because of it, next\r
+day, November 15, after dinner he again went to Olmutz and, entering the\r
+house occupied by Kutuzov, asked for Bolkonski. Prince Andrew was in and\r
+Boris was shown into a large hall probably formerly used for dancing,\r
+but in which five beds now stood, and furniture of various kinds: a\r
+table, chairs, and a clavichord. One adjutant, nearest the door, was\r
+sitting at the table in a Persian dressing gown, writing. Another, the\r
+red, stout Nesvitski, lay on a bed with his arms under his head,\r
+laughing with an officer who had sat down beside him. A third was\r
+playing a Viennese waltz on the clavichord, while a fourth, lying on the\r
+clavichord, sang the tune. Bolkonski was not there. None of these\r
+gentlemen changed his position on seeing Boris. The one who was writing\r
+and whom Boris addressed turned round crossly and told him Bolkonski was\r
+on duty and that he should go through the door on the left into the\r
+reception room if he wished to see him. Boris thanked him and went to\r
+the reception room, where he found some ten officers and generals.\r
+\r
+When he entered, Prince Andrew, his eyes drooping contemptuously (with\r
+that peculiar expression of polite weariness which plainly says, "If it\r
+were not my duty I would not talk to you for a moment"), was listening\r
+to an old Russian general with decorations, who stood very erect, almost\r
+on tiptoe, with a soldier's obsequious expression on his purple face,\r
+reporting something.\r
+\r
+"Very well, then, be so good as to wait," said Prince Andrew to the\r
+general, in Russian, speaking with the French intonation he affected\r
+when he wished to speak contemptuously, and noticing Boris, Prince\r
+Andrew, paying no more heed to the general who ran after him imploring\r
+him to hear something more, nodded and turned to him with a cheerful\r
+smile.\r
+\r
+At that moment Boris clearly realized what he had before surmised, that\r
+in the army, besides the subordination and discipline prescribed in the\r
+military code, which he and the others knew in the regiment, there was\r
+another, more important, subordination, which made this tight-laced,\r
+purple-faced general wait respectfully while Captain Prince Andrew, for\r
+his own pleasure, chose to chat with Lieutenant Drubetskoy. More than\r
+ever was Boris resolved to serve in future not according to the written\r
+code, but under this unwritten law. He felt now that merely by having\r
+been recommended to Prince Andrew he had already risen above the general\r
+who at the front had the power to annihilate him, a lieutenant of the\r
+Guards. Prince Andrew came up to him and took his hand.\r
+\r
+"I am very sorry you did not find me in yesterday. I was fussing about\r
+with Germans all day. We went with Weyrother to survey the dispositions.\r
+When Germans start being accurate, there's no end to it!"\r
+\r
+Boris smiled, as if he understood what Prince Andrew was alluding to as\r
+something generally known. But it was the first time he had heard\r
+Weyrother's name, or even the term "dispositions."\r
+\r
+"Well, my dear fellow, so you still want to be an adjutant? I have been\r
+thinking about you."\r
+\r
+"Yes, I was thinking"--for some reason Boris could not help blushing--\r
+"of asking the commander-in-chief. He has had a letter from Prince\r
+Kuragin about me. I only wanted to ask because I fear the Guards won't\r
+be in action," he added as if in apology.\r
+\r
+"All right, all right. We'll talk it over," replied Prince Andrew. "Only\r
+let me report this gentleman's business, and I shall be at your\r
+disposal."\r
+\r
+While Prince Andrew went to report about the purple-faced general, that\r
+gentleman--evidently not sharing Boris' conception of the advantages of\r
+the unwritten code of subordination--looked so fixedly at the\r
+presumptuous lieutenant who had prevented his finishing what he had to\r
+say to the adjutant that Boris felt uncomfortable. He turned away and\r
+waited impatiently for Prince Andrew's return from the commander-in-\r
+chief's room.\r
+\r
+"You see, my dear fellow, I have been thinking about you," said Prince\r
+Andrew when they had gone into the large room where the clavichord was.\r
+"It's no use your going to the commander-in-chief. He would say a lot of\r
+pleasant things, ask you to dinner" ("That would not be bad as regards\r
+the unwritten code," thought Boris), "but nothing more would come of it.\r
+There will soon be a battalion of us aides-de-camp and adjutants! But\r
+this is what we'll do: I have a good friend, an adjutant general and an\r
+excellent fellow, Prince Dolgorukov; and though you may not know it, the\r
+fact is that now Kutuzov with his staff and all of us count for nothing.\r
+Everything is now centered round the Emperor. So we will go to\r
+Dolgorukov; I have to go there anyhow and I have already spoken to him\r
+about you. We shall see whether he cannot attach you to himself or find\r
+a place for you somewhere nearer the sun."\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew always became specially keen when he had to guide a young\r
+man and help him to worldly success. Under cover of obtaining help of\r
+this kind for another, which from pride he would never accept for\r
+himself, he kept in touch with the circle which confers success and\r
+which attracted him. He very readily took up Boris' cause and went with\r
+him to Dolgorukov.\r
+\r
+It was late in the evening when they entered the palace at Olmutz\r
+occupied by the Emperors and their retinues.\r
+\r
+That same day a council of war had been held in which all the members of\r
+the Hofkriegsrath and both Emperors took part. At that council, contrary\r
+to the views of the old generals Kutuzov and Prince Schwartzenberg, it\r
+had been decided to advance immediately and give battle to Bonaparte.\r
+The council of war was just over when Prince Andrew accompanied by Boris\r
+arrived at the palace to find Dolgorukov. Everyone at headquarters was\r
+still under the spell of the day's council, at which the party of the\r
+young had triumphed. The voices of those who counseled delay and advised\r
+waiting for something else before advancing had been so completely\r
+silenced and their arguments confuted by such conclusive evidence of the\r
+advantages of attacking that what had been discussed at the council--the\r
+coming battle and the victory that would certainly result from it--no\r
+longer seemed to be in the future but in the past. All the advantages\r
+were on our side. Our enormous forces, undoubtedly superior to\r
+Napoleon's, were concentrated in one place, the troops inspired by the\r
+Emperors' presence were eager for action. The strategic position where\r
+the operations would take place was familiar in all its details to the\r
+Austrian General Weyrother: a lucky accident had ordained that the\r
+Austrian army should maneuver the previous year on the very fields where\r
+the French had now to be fought; the adjacent locality was known and\r
+shown in every detail on the maps, and Bonaparte, evidently weakened,\r
+was undertaking nothing.\r
+\r
+Dolgorukov, one of the warmest advocates of an attack, had just returned\r
+from the council, tired and exhausted but eager and proud of the victory\r
+that had been gained. Prince Andrew introduced his protege, but Prince\r
+Dolgorukov politely and firmly pressing his hand said nothing to Boris\r
+and, evidently unable to suppress the thoughts which were uppermost in\r
+his mind at that moment, addressed Prince Andrew in French.\r
+\r
+"Ah, my dear fellow, what a battle we have gained! God grant that the\r
+one that will result from it will be as victorious! However, dear\r
+fellow," he said abruptly and eagerly, "I must confess to having been\r
+unjust to the Austrians and especially to Weyrother. What exactitude,\r
+what minuteness, what knowledge of the locality, what foresight for\r
+every eventuality, every possibility even to the smallest detail! No, my\r
+dear fellow, no conditions better than our present ones could have been\r
+devised. This combination of Austrian precision with Russian valor--what\r
+more could be wished for?"\r
+\r
+"So the attack is definitely resolved on?" asked Bolkonski.\r
+\r
+"And do you know, my dear fellow, it seems to me that Bonaparte has\r
+decidedly lost bearings, you know that a letter was received from him\r
+today for the Emperor." Dolgorukov smiled significantly.\r
+\r
+"Is that so? And what did he say?" inquired Bolkonski.\r
+\r
+"What can he say? Tra-di-ri-di-ra and so on... merely to gain time. I\r
+tell you he is in our hands, that's certain! But what was most amusing,"\r
+he continued, with a sudden, good-natured laugh, "was that we could not\r
+think how to address the reply! If not as 'Consul' and of course not as\r
+'Emperor,' it seemed to me it should be to 'General Bonaparte.'"\r
+\r
+"But between not recognizing him as Emperor and calling him General\r
+Bonaparte, there is a difference," remarked Bolkonski.\r
+\r
+"That's just it," interrupted Dolgorukov quickly, laughing. "You know\r
+Bilibin--he's a very clever fellow. He suggested addressing him as\r
+'Usurper and Enemy of Mankind.'"\r
+\r
+Dolgorukov laughed merrily.\r
+\r
+"Only that?" said Bolkonski.\r
+\r
+"All the same, it was Bilibin who found a suitable form for the address.\r
+He is a wise and clever fellow."\r
+\r
+"What was it?"\r
+\r
+"To the Head of the French Government... Au chef du gouvernement\r
+francais," said Dolgorukov, with grave satisfaction. "Good, wasn't it?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, but he will dislike it extremely," said Bolkonski.\r
+\r
+"Oh yes, very much! My brother knows him, he's dined with him--the\r
+present Emperor--more than once in Paris, and tells me he never met a\r
+more cunning or subtle diplomatist--you know, a combination of French\r
+adroitness and Italian play-acting! Do you know the tale about him and\r
+Count Markov? Count Markov was the only man who knew how to handle him.\r
+You know the story of the handkerchief? It is delightful!"\r
+\r
+And the talkative Dolgorukov, turning now to Boris, now to Prince\r
+Andrew, told how Bonaparte wishing to test Markov, our ambassador,\r
+purposely dropped a handkerchief in front of him and stood looking at\r
+Markov, probably expecting Markov to pick it up for him, and how Markov\r
+immediately dropped his own beside it and picked it up without touching\r
+Bonaparte's.\r
+\r
+"Delightful!" said Bolkonski. "But I have come to you, Prince, as a\r
+petitioner on behalf of this young man. You see..." but before Prince\r
+Andrew could finish, an aide-de-camp came in to summon Dolgorukov to the\r
+Emperor.\r
+\r
+"Oh, what a nuisance," said Dolgorukov, getting up hurriedly and\r
+pressing the hands of Prince Andrew and Boris. "You know I should be\r
+very glad to do all in my power both for you and for this dear young\r
+man." Again he pressed the hand of the latter with an expression of\r
+good-natured, sincere, and animated levity. "But you see... another\r
+time!"\r
+\r
+Boris was excited by the thought of being so close to the higher powers\r
+as he felt himself to be at that moment. He was conscious that here he\r
+was in contact with the springs that set in motion the enormous\r
+movements of the mass of which in his regiment he felt himself a tiny,\r
+obedient, and insignificant atom. They followed Prince Dolgorukov out\r
+into the corridor and met--coming out of the door of the Emperor's room\r
+by which Dolgorukov had entered--a short man in civilian clothes with a\r
+clever face and sharply projecting jaw which, without spoiling his face,\r
+gave him a peculiar vivacity and shiftiness of expression. This short\r
+man nodded to Dolgorukov as to an intimate friend and stared at Prince\r
+Andrew with cool intensity, walking straight toward him and evidently\r
+expecting him to bow or to step out of his way. Prince Andrew did\r
+neither: a look of animosity appeared on his face and the other turned\r
+away and went down the side of the corridor.\r
+\r
+"Who was that?" asked Boris.\r
+\r
+"He is one of the most remarkable, but to me most unpleasant of men--the\r
+Minister of Foreign Affairs, Prince Adam Czartoryski.... It is such men\r
+as he who decide the fate of nations," added Bolkonski with a sigh he\r
+could not suppress, as they passed out of the palace.\r
+\r
+Next day, the army began its campaign, and up to the very battle of\r
+Austerlitz, Boris was unable to see either Prince Andrew or Dolgorukov\r
+again and remained for a while with the Ismaylov regiment.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+At dawn on the sixteenth of November, Denisov's squadron, in which\r
+Nicholas Rostov served and which was in Prince Bagration's detachment,\r
+moved from the place where it had spent the night, advancing into action\r
+as arranged, and after going behind other columns for about two thirds\r
+of a mile was stopped on the highroad. Rostov saw the Cossacks and then\r
+the first and second squadrons of hussars and infantry battalions and\r
+artillery pass by and go forward and then Generals Bagration and\r
+Dolgorukov ride past with their adjutants. All the fear before action\r
+which he had experienced as previously, all the inner struggle to\r
+conquer that fear, all his dreams of distinguishing himself as a true\r
+hussar in this battle, had been wasted. Their squadron remained in\r
+reserve and Nicholas Rostov spent that day in a dull and wretched mood.\r
+At nine in the morning, he heard firing in front and shouts of hurrah,\r
+and saw wounded being brought back (there were not many of them), and at\r
+last he saw how a whole detachment of French cavalry was brought in,\r
+convoyed by a sotnya of Cossacks. Evidently the affair was over and,\r
+though not big, had been a successful engagement. The men and officers\r
+returning spoke of a brilliant victory, of the occupation of the town of\r
+Wischau and the capture of a whole French squadron. The day was bright\r
+and sunny after a sharp night frost, and the cheerful glitter of that\r
+autumn day was in keeping with the news of victory which was conveyed,\r
+not only by the tales of those who had taken part in it, but also by the\r
+joyful expression on the faces of soldiers, officers, generals, and\r
+adjutants, as they passed Rostov going or coming. And Nicholas, who had\r
+vainly suffered all the dread that precedes a battle and had spent that\r
+happy day in inactivity, was all the more depressed.\r
+\r
+"Come here, Wostov. Let's dwink to dwown our gwief!" shouted Denisov,\r
+who had settled down by the roadside with a flask and some food.\r
+\r
+The officers gathered round Denisov's canteen, eating and talking.\r
+\r
+"There! They are bringing another!" cried one of the officers,\r
+indicating a captive French dragoon who was being brought in on foot by\r
+two Cossacks.\r
+\r
+One of them was leading by the bridle a fine large French horse he had\r
+taken from the prisoner.\r
+\r
+"Sell us that horse!" Denisov called out to the Cossacks.\r
+\r
+"If you like, your honor!"\r
+\r
+The officers got up and stood round the Cossacks and their prisoner. The\r
+French dragoon was a young Alsatian who spoke French with a German\r
+accent. He was breathless with agitation, his face was red, and when he\r
+heard some French spoken he at once began speaking to the officers,\r
+addressing first one, then another. He said he would not have been\r
+taken, it was not his fault but the corporal's who had sent him to seize\r
+some horsecloths, though he had told him the Russians were there. And at\r
+every word he added: "But don't hurt my little horse!" and stroked the\r
+animal. It was plain that he did not quite grasp where he was. Now he\r
+excused himself for having been taken prisoner and now, imagining\r
+himself before his own officers, insisted on his soldierly discipline\r
+and zeal in the service. He brought with him into our rearguard all the\r
+freshness of atmosphere of the French army, which was so alien to us.\r
+\r
+The Cossacks sold the horse for two gold pieces, and Rostov, being the\r
+richest of the officers now that he had received his money, bought it.\r
+\r
+"But don't hurt my little horse!" said the Alsatian good-naturedly to\r
+Rostov when the animal was handed over to the hussar.\r
+\r
+Rostov smilingly reassured the dragoon and gave him money.\r
+\r
+"Alley! Alley!" said the Cossack, touching the prisoner's arm to make\r
+him go on.\r
+\r
+"The Emperor! The Emperor!" was suddenly heard among the hussars.\r
+\r
+All began to run and bustle, and Rostov saw coming up the road behind\r
+him several riders with white plumes in their hats. In a moment everyone\r
+was in his place, waiting.\r
+\r
+Rostov did not know or remember how he ran to his place and mounted.\r
+Instantly his regret at not having been in action and his dejected mood\r
+amid people of whom he was weary had gone, instantly every thought of\r
+himself had vanished. He was filled with happiness at his nearness to\r
+the Emperor. He felt that this nearness by itself made up to him for the\r
+day he had lost. He was happy as a lover when the longed-for moment of\r
+meeting arrives. Not daring to look round and without looking round, he\r
+was ecstatically conscious of his approach. He felt it not only from the\r
+sound of the hoofs of the approaching cavalcade, but because as he drew\r
+near everything grew brighter, more joyful, more significant, and more\r
+festive around him. Nearer and nearer to Rostov came that sun shedding\r
+beams of mild and majestic light around, and already he felt himself\r
+enveloped in those beams, he heard his voice, that kindly, calm, and\r
+majestic voice that was yet so simple! And as if in accord with Rostov's\r
+feeling, there was a deathly stillness amid which was heard the\r
+Emperor's voice.\r
+\r
+"The Pavlograd hussars?" he inquired.\r
+\r
+"The reserves, sire!" replied a voice, a very human one compared to that\r
+which had said: "The Pavlograd hussars?"\r
+\r
+The Emperor drew level with Rostov and halted. Alexander's face was even\r
+more beautiful than it had been three days before at the review. It\r
+shone with such gaiety and youth, such innocent youth, that it suggested\r
+the liveliness of a fourteen-year-old boy, and yet it was the face of\r
+the majestic Emperor. Casually, while surveying the squadron, the\r
+Emperor's eyes met Rostov's and rested on them for not more than two\r
+seconds. Whether or no the Emperor understood what was going on in\r
+Rostov's soul (it seemed to Rostov that he understood everything), at\r
+any rate his light-blue eyes gazed for about two seconds into Rostov's\r
+face. A gentle, mild light poured from them. Then all at once he raised\r
+his eyebrows, abruptly touched his horse with his left foot, and\r
+galloped on.\r
+\r
+The younger Emperor could not restrain his wish to be present at the\r
+battle and, in spite of the remonstrances of his courtiers, at twelve\r
+o'clock left the third column with which he had been and galloped toward\r
+the vanguard. Before he came up with the hussars, several adjutants met\r
+him with news of the successful result of the action.\r
+\r
+This battle, which consisted in the capture of a French squadron, was\r
+represented as a brilliant victory over the French, and so the Emperor\r
+and the whole army, especially while the smoke hung over the\r
+battlefield, believed that the French had been defeated and were\r
+retreating against their will. A few minutes after the Emperor had\r
+passed, the Pavlograd division was ordered to advance. In Wischau\r
+itself, a petty German town, Rostov saw the Emperor again. In the market\r
+place, where there had been some rather heavy firing before the\r
+Emperor's arrival, lay several killed and wounded soldiers whom there\r
+had not been time to move. The Emperor, surrounded by his suite of\r
+officers and courtiers, was riding a bobtailed chestnut mare, a\r
+different one from that which he had ridden at the review, and bending\r
+to one side he gracefully held a gold lorgnette to his eyes and looked\r
+at a soldier who lay prone, with blood on his uncovered head. The\r
+wounded soldier was so dirty, coarse, and revolting that his proximity\r
+to the Emperor shocked Rostov. Rostov saw how the Emperor's rather round\r
+shoulders shuddered as if a cold shiver had run down them, how his left\r
+foot began convulsively tapping the horse's side with the spur, and how\r
+the well-trained horse looked round unconcerned and did not stir. An\r
+adjutant, dismounting, lifted the soldier under the arms to place him on\r
+a stretcher that had been brought. The soldier groaned.\r
+\r
+"Gently, gently! Can't you do it more gently?" said the Emperor\r
+apparently suffering more than the dying soldier, and he rode away.\r
+\r
+Rostov saw tears filling the Emperor's eyes and heard him, as he was\r
+riding away, say to Czartoryski: "What a terrible thing war is: what a\r
+terrible thing! Quelle terrible chose que la guerre!"\r
+\r
+The troops of the vanguard were stationed before Wischau, within sight\r
+of the enemy's lines, which all day long had yielded ground to us at the\r
+least firing. The Emperor's gratitude was announced to the vanguard,\r
+rewards were promised, and the men received a double ration of vodka.\r
+The campfires crackled and the soldiers' songs resounded even more\r
+merrily than on the previous night. Denisov celebrated his promotion to\r
+the rank of major, and Rostov, who had already drunk enough, at the end\r
+of the feast proposed the Emperor's health. "Not 'our Sovereign, the\r
+Emperor,' as they say at official dinners," said he, "but the health of\r
+our Sovereign, that good, enchanting, and great man! Let us drink to his\r
+health and to the certain defeat of the French!"\r
+\r
+"If we fought before," he said, "not letting the French pass, as at\r
+Schon Grabern, what shall we not do now when he is at the front? We will\r
+all die for him gladly! Is it not so, gentlemen? Perhaps I am not saying\r
+it right, I have drunk a good deal--but that is how I feel, and so do\r
+you too! To the health of Alexander the First! Hurrah!"\r
+\r
+"Hurrah!" rang the enthusiastic voices of the officers.\r
+\r
+And the old cavalry captain, Kirsten, shouted enthusiastically and no\r
+less sincerely than the twenty-year-old Rostov.\r
+\r
+When the officers had emptied and smashed their glasses, Kirsten filled\r
+others and, in shirt sleeves and breeches, went glass in hand to the\r
+soldiers' bonfires and with his long gray mustache, his white chest\r
+showing under his open shirt, he stood in a majestic pose in the light\r
+of the campfire, waving his uplifted arm.\r
+\r
+"Lads! here's to our Sovereign, the Emperor, and victory over our\r
+enemies! Hurrah!" he exclaimed in his dashing, old, hussar's baritone.\r
+\r
+The hussars crowded round and responded heartily with loud shouts.\r
+\r
+Late that night, when all had separated, Denisov with his short hand\r
+patted his favorite, Rostov, on the shoulder.\r
+\r
+"As there's no one to fall in love with on campaign, he's fallen in love\r
+with the Tsar," he said.\r
+\r
+"Denisov, don't make fun of it!" cried Rostov. "It is such a lofty,\r
+beautiful feeling, such a..."\r
+\r
+"I believe it, I believe it, fwiend, and I share and appwove..."\r
+\r
+"No, you don't understand!"\r
+\r
+And Rostov got up and went wandering among the campfires, dreaming of\r
+what happiness it would be to die--not in saving the Emperor's life (he\r
+did not even dare to dream of that), but simply to die before his eyes.\r
+He really was in love with the Tsar and the glory of the Russian arms\r
+and the hope of future triumph. And he was not the only man to\r
+experience that feeling during those memorable days preceding the battle\r
+of Austerlitz: nine tenths of the men in the Russian army were then in\r
+love, though less ecstatically, with their Tsar and the glory of the\r
+Russian arms.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+The next day the Emperor stopped at Wischau, and Villier, his physician,\r
+was repeatedly summoned to see him. At headquarters and among the troops\r
+near by the news spread that the Emperor was unwell. He ate nothing and\r
+had slept badly that night, those around him reported. The cause of this\r
+indisposition was the strong impression made on his sensitive mind by\r
+the sight of the killed and wounded.\r
+\r
+At daybreak on the seventeenth, a French officer who had come with a\r
+flag of truce, demanding an audience with the Russian Emperor, was\r
+brought into Wischau from our outposts. This officer was Savary. The\r
+Emperor had only just fallen asleep and so Savary had to wait. At midday\r
+he was admitted to the Emperor, and an hour later he rode off with\r
+Prince Dolgorukov to the advanced post of the French army.\r
+\r
+It was rumored that Savary had been sent to propose to Alexander a\r
+meeting with Napoleon. To the joy and pride of the whole army, a\r
+personal interview was refused, and instead of the Sovereign, Prince\r
+Dolgorukov, the victor at Wischau, was sent with Savary to negotiate\r
+with Napoleon if, contrary to expectations, these negotiations were\r
+actuated by a real desire for peace.\r
+\r
+Toward evening Dolgorukov came back, went straight to the Tsar, and\r
+remained alone with him for a long time.\r
+\r
+On the eighteenth and nineteenth of November, the army advanced two\r
+days' march and the enemy's outposts after a brief interchange of shots\r
+retreated. In the highest army circles from midday on the nineteenth, a\r
+great, excitedly bustling activity began which lasted till the morning\r
+of the twentieth, when the memorable battle of Austerlitz was fought.\r
+\r
+Till midday on the nineteenth, the activity--the eager talk, running to\r
+and fro, and dispatching of adjutants--was confined to the Emperor's\r
+headquarters. But on the afternoon of that day, this activity reached\r
+Kutuzov's headquarters and the staffs of the commanders of columns. By\r
+evening, the adjutants had spread it to all ends and parts of the army,\r
+and in the night from the nineteenth to the twentieth, the whole eighty\r
+thousand allied troops rose from their bivouacs to the hum of voices,\r
+and the army swayed and started in one enormous mass six miles long.\r
+\r
+The concentrated activity which had begun at the Emperor's headquarters\r
+in the morning and had started the whole movement that followed was like\r
+the first movement of the main wheel of a large tower clock. One wheel\r
+slowly moved, another was set in motion, and a third, and wheels began\r
+to revolve faster and faster, levers and cogwheels to work, chimes to\r
+play, figures to pop out, and the hands to advance with regular motion\r
+as a result of all that activity.\r
+\r
+Just as in the mechanism of a clock, so in the mechanism of the military\r
+machine, an impulse once given leads to the final result; and just as\r
+indifferently quiescent till the moment when motion is transmitted to\r
+them are the parts of the mechanism which the impulse has not yet\r
+reached. Wheels creak on their axles as the cogs engage one another and\r
+the revolving pulleys whirr with the rapidity of their movement, but a\r
+neighboring wheel is as quiet and motionless as though it were prepared\r
+to remain so for a hundred years; but the moment comes when the lever\r
+catches it and obeying the impulse that wheel begins to creak and joins\r
+in the common motion the result and aim of which are beyond its ken.\r
+\r
+Just as in a clock, the result of the complicated motion of innumerable\r
+wheels and pulleys is merely a slow and regular movement of the hands\r
+which show the time, so the result of all the complicated human\r
+activities of 160,000 Russians and French--all their passions, desires,\r
+remorse, humiliations, sufferings, outbursts of pride, fear, and\r
+enthusiasm--was only the loss of the battle of Austerlitz, the so-called\r
+battle of the three Emperors--that is to say, a slow movement of the\r
+hand on the dial of human history.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew was on duty that day and in constant attendance on the\r
+commander-in-chief.\r
+\r
+At six in the evening, Kutuzov went to the Emperor's headquarters and\r
+after staying but a short time with the Tsar went to see the grand\r
+marshal of the court, Count Tolstoy.\r
+\r
+Bolkonski took the opportunity to go in to get some details of the\r
+coming action from Dolgorukov. He felt that Kutuzov was upset and\r
+dissatisfied about something and that at headquarters they were\r
+dissatisfied with him, and also that at the Emperor's headquarters\r
+everyone adopted toward him the tone of men who know something others do\r
+not know: he therefore wished to speak to Dolgorukov.\r
+\r
+"Well, how d'you do, my dear fellow?" said Dolgorukov, who was sitting\r
+at tea with Bilibin. "The fete is for tomorrow. How is your old fellow?\r
+Out of sorts?"\r
+\r
+"I won't say he is out of sorts, but I fancy he would like to be heard."\r
+\r
+"But they heard him at the council of war and will hear him when he\r
+talks sense, but to temporize and wait for something now when Bonaparte\r
+fears nothing so much as a general battle is impossible."\r
+\r
+"Yes, you have seen him?" said Prince Andrew. "Well, what is Bonaparte\r
+like? How did he impress you?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, I saw him, and am convinced that he fears nothing so much as a\r
+general engagement," repeated Dolgorukov, evidently prizing this general\r
+conclusion which he had arrived at from his interview with Napoleon. "If\r
+he weren't afraid of a battle why did he ask for that interview? Why\r
+negotiate, and above all why retreat, when to retreat is so contrary to\r
+his method of conducting war? Believe me, he is afraid, afraid of a\r
+general battle. His hour has come! Mark my words!"\r
+\r
+"But tell me, what is he like, eh?" said Prince Andrew again.\r
+\r
+"He is a man in a gray overcoat, very anxious that I should call him\r
+'Your Majesty,' but who, to his chagrin, got no title from me! That's\r
+the sort of man he is, and nothing more," replied Dolgorukov, looking\r
+round at Bilibin with a smile.\r
+\r
+"Despite my great respect for old Kutuzov," he continued, "we should be\r
+a nice set of fellows if we were to wait about and so give him a chance\r
+to escape, or to trick us, now that we certainly have him in our hands!\r
+No, we mustn't forget Suvorov and his rule--not to put yourself in a\r
+position to be attacked, but yourself to attack. Believe me in war the\r
+energy of young men often shows the way better than all the experience\r
+of old Cunctators."\r
+\r
+"But in what position are we going to attack him? I have been at the\r
+outposts today and it is impossible to say where his chief forces are\r
+situated," said Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+He wished to explain to Dolgorukov a plan of attack he had himself\r
+formed.\r
+\r
+"Oh, that is all the same," Dolgorukov said quickly, and getting up he\r
+spread a map on the table. "All eventualities have been foreseen. If he\r
+is standing before Brunn..."\r
+\r
+And Prince Dolgorukov rapidly but indistinctly explained Weyrother's\r
+plan of a flanking movement.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew began to reply and to state his own plan, which might have\r
+been as good as Weyrother's, but for the disadvantage that Weyrother's\r
+had already been approved. As soon as Prince Andrew began to demonstrate\r
+the defects of the latter and the merits of his own plan, Prince\r
+Dolgorukov ceased to listen to him and gazed absent-mindedly not at the\r
+map, but at Prince Andrew's face.\r
+\r
+"There will be a council of war at Kutuzov's tonight, though; you can\r
+say all this there," remarked Dolgorukov.\r
+\r
+"I will do so," said Prince Andrew, moving away from the map.\r
+\r
+"Whatever are you bothering about, gentlemen?" said Bilibin, who, till\r
+then, had listened with an amused smile to their conversation and now\r
+was evidently ready with a joke. "Whether tomorrow brings victory or\r
+defeat, the glory of our Russian arms is secure. Except your Kutuzov,\r
+there is not a single Russian in command of a column! The commanders\r
+are: Herr General Wimpfen, le Comte de Langeron, le Prince de\r
+Lichtenstein, le Prince, de Hohenlohe, and finally Prishprish, and so on\r
+like all those Polish names."\r
+\r
+"Be quiet, backbiter!" said Dolgorukov. "It is not true; there are now\r
+two Russians, Miloradovich, and Dokhturov, and there would be a third,\r
+Count Arakcheev, if his nerves were not too weak."\r
+\r
+"However, I think General Kutuzov has come out," said Prince Andrew. "I\r
+wish you good luck and success, gentlemen!" he added and went out after\r
+shaking hands with Dolgorukov and Bilibin.\r
+\r
+On the way home, Prince Andrew could not refrain from asking Kutuzov,\r
+who was sitting silently beside him, what he thought of tomorrow's\r
+battle.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov looked sternly at his adjutant and, after a pause, replied: "I\r
+think the battle will be lost, and so I told Count Tolstoy and asked him\r
+to tell the Emperor. What do you think he replied? 'But, my dear\r
+general, I am engaged with rice and cutlets, look after military matters\r
+yourself!' Yes... That was the answer I got!"\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+Shortly after nine o'clock that evening, Weyrother drove with his plans\r
+to Kutuzov's quarters where the council of war was to be held. All the\r
+commanders of columns were summoned to the commander-in-chief's and with\r
+the exception of Prince Bagration, who declined to come, were all there\r
+at the appointed time.\r
+\r
+Weyrother, who was in full control of the proposed battle, by his\r
+eagerness and briskness presented a marked contrast to the dissatisfied\r
+and drowsy Kutuzov, who reluctantly played the part of chairman and\r
+president of the council of war. Weyrother evidently felt himself to be\r
+at the head of a movement that had already become unrestrainable. He was\r
+like a horse running downhill harnessed to a heavy cart. Whether he was\r
+pulling it or being pushed by it he did not know, but rushed along at\r
+headlong speed with no time to consider what this movement might lead\r
+to. Weyrother had been twice that evening to the enemy's picket line to\r
+reconnoiter personally, and twice to the Emperors, Russian and Austrian,\r
+to report and explain, and to his headquarters where he had dictated the\r
+dispositions in German, and now, much exhausted, he arrived at\r
+Kutuzov's.\r
+\r
+He was evidently so busy that he even forgot to be polite to the\r
+commander in chief. He interrupted him, talked rapidly and indistinctly,\r
+without looking at the man he was addressing, and did not reply to\r
+questions put to him. He was bespattered with mud and had a pitiful,\r
+weary, and distracted air, though at the same time he was haughty and\r
+self-confident.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov was occupying a nobleman's castle of modest dimensions near\r
+Ostralitz. In the large drawing room which had become the commander in\r
+chief's office were gathered Kutuzov himself, Weyrother, and the members\r
+of the council of war. They were drinking tea, and only awaited Prince\r
+Bagration to begin the council. At last Bagration's orderly came with\r
+the news that the prince could not attend. Prince Andrew came in to\r
+inform the commander-in-chief of this and, availing himself of\r
+permission previously given him by Kutuzov to be present at the council,\r
+he remained in the room.\r
+\r
+"Since Prince Bagration is not coming, we may begin," said Weyrother,\r
+hurriedly rising from his seat and going up to the table on which an\r
+enormous map of the environs of Brunn was spread out.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov, with his uniform unbuttoned so that his fat neck bulged over\r
+his collar as if escaping, was sitting almost asleep in a low chair,\r
+with his podgy old hands resting symmetrically on its arms. At the sound\r
+of Weyrother's voice, he opened his one eye with an effort.\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes, if you please! It is already late," said he, and nodding his\r
+head he let it droop and again closed his eye.\r
+\r
+If at first the members of the council thought that Kutuzov was\r
+pretending to sleep, the sounds his nose emitted during the reading that\r
+followed proved that the commander-in-chief at that moment was absorbed\r
+by a far more serious matter than a desire to show his contempt for the\r
+dispositions or anything else--he was engaged in satisfying the\r
+irresistible human need for sleep. He really was asleep. Weyrother, with\r
+the gesture of a man too busy to lose a moment, glanced at Kutuzov and,\r
+having convinced himself that he was asleep, took up a paper and in a\r
+loud, monotonous voice began to read out the dispositions for the\r
+impending battle, under a heading which he also read out:\r
+\r
+"Dispositions for an attack on the enemy position behind Kobelnitz and\r
+Sokolnitz, November 30, 1805."\r
+\r
+The dispositions were very complicated and difficult. They began as\r
+follows:\r
+\r
+"As the enemy's left wing rests on wooded hills and his right extends\r
+along Kobelnitz and Sokolnitz behind the ponds that are there, while we,\r
+on the other hand, with our left wing by far outflank his right, it is\r
+advantageous to attack the enemy's latter wing especially if we occupy\r
+the villages of Sokolnitz and Kobelnitz, whereby we can both fall on his\r
+flank and pursue him over the plain between Schlappanitz and the\r
+Thuerassa forest, avoiding the defiles of Schlappanitz and Bellowitz\r
+which cover the enemy's front. For this object it is necessary that...\r
+The first column marches... The second column marches... The third\r
+column marches..." and so on, read Weyrother.\r
+\r
+The generals seemed to listen reluctantly to the difficult dispositions.\r
+The tall, fair-haired General Buxhowden stood, leaning his back against\r
+the wall, his eyes fixed on a burning candle, and seemed not to listen\r
+or even to wish to be thought to listen. Exactly opposite Weyrother,\r
+with his glistening wide-open eyes fixed upon him and his mustache\r
+twisted upwards, sat the ruddy Miloradovich in a military pose, his\r
+elbows turned outwards, his hands on his knees, and his shoulders\r
+raised. He remained stubbornly silent, gazing at Weyrother's face, and\r
+only turned away his eyes when the Austrian chief of staff finished\r
+reading. Then Miloradovich looked round significantly at the other\r
+generals. But one could not tell from that significant look whether he\r
+agreed or disagreed and was satisfied or not with the arrangements. Next\r
+to Weyrother sat Count Langeron who, with a subtle smile that never left\r
+his typically southern French face during the whole time of the reading,\r
+gazed at his delicate fingers which rapidly twirled by its corners a\r
+gold snuffbox on which was a portrait. In the middle of one of the\r
+longest sentences, he stopped the rotary motion of the snuffbox, raised\r
+his head, and with inimical politeness lurking in the corners of his\r
+thin lips interrupted Weyrother, wishing to say something. But the\r
+Austrian general, continuing to read, frowned angrily and jerked his\r
+elbows, as if to say: "You can tell me your views later, but now be so\r
+good as to look at the map and listen." Langeron lifted his eyes with an\r
+expression of perplexity, turned round to Miloradovich as if seeking an\r
+explanation, but meeting the latter's impressive but meaningless gaze\r
+drooped his eyes sadly and again took to twirling his snuffbox.\r
+\r
+"A geography lesson!" he muttered as if to himself, but loud enough to\r
+be heard.\r
+\r
+Przebyszewski, with respectful but dignified politeness, held his hand\r
+to his ear toward Weyrother, with the air of a man absorbed in\r
+attention. Dohkturov, a little man, sat opposite Weyrother, with an\r
+assiduous and modest mien, and stooping over the outspread map\r
+conscientiously studied the dispositions and the unfamiliar locality. He\r
+asked Weyrother several times to repeat words he had not clearly heard\r
+and the difficult names of villages. Weyrother complied and Dohkturov\r
+noted them down.\r
+\r
+When the reading which lasted more than an hour was over, Langeron again\r
+brought his snuffbox to rest and, without looking at Weyrother or at\r
+anyone in particular, began to say how difficult it was to carry out\r
+such a plan in which the enemy's position was assumed to be known,\r
+whereas it was perhaps not known, since the enemy was in movement.\r
+Langeron's objections were valid but it was obvious that their chief aim\r
+was to show General Weyrother--who had read his dispositions with as\r
+much self-confidence as if he were addressing school children--that he\r
+had to do, not with fools, but with men who could teach him something in\r
+military matters.\r
+\r
+When the monotonous sound of Weyrother's voice ceased, Kutuzov opened\r
+his eye as a miller wakes up when the soporific drone of the mill wheel\r
+is interrupted. He listened to what Langeron said, as if remarking, "So\r
+you are still at that silly business!" quickly closed his eye again, and\r
+let his head sink still lower.\r
+\r
+Langeron, trying as virulently as possible to sting Weyrother's vanity\r
+as author of the military plan, argued that Bonaparte might easily\r
+attack instead of being attacked, and so render the whole of this plan\r
+perfectly worthless. Weyrother met all objections with a firm and\r
+contemptuous smile, evidently prepared beforehand to meet all objections\r
+be they what they might.\r
+\r
+"If he could attack us, he would have done so today," said he.\r
+\r
+"So you think he is powerless?" said Langeron.\r
+\r
+"He has forty thousand men at most," replied Weyrother, with the smile\r
+of a doctor to whom an old wife wishes to explain the treatment of a\r
+case.\r
+\r
+"In that case he is inviting his doom by awaiting our attack," said\r
+Langeron, with a subtly ironical smile, again glancing round for support\r
+to Miloradovich who was near him.\r
+\r
+But Miloradovich was at that moment evidently thinking of anything\r
+rather than of what the generals were disputing about.\r
+\r
+"Ma foi!" said he, "tomorrow we shall see all that on the battlefield."\r
+\r
+Weyrother again gave that smile which seemed to say that to him it was\r
+strange and ridiculous to meet objections from Russian generals and to\r
+have to prove to them what he had not merely convinced himself of, but\r
+had also convinced the sovereign Emperors of.\r
+\r
+"The enemy has quenched his fires and a continual noise is heard from\r
+his camp," said he. "What does that mean? Either he is retreating, which\r
+is the only thing we need fear, or he is changing his position." (He\r
+smiled ironically.) "But even if he also took up a position in the\r
+Thuerassa, he merely saves us a great deal of trouble and all our\r
+arrangements to the minutest detail remain the same."\r
+\r
+"How is that?..." began Prince Andrew, who had for long been waiting an\r
+opportunity to express his doubts.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov here woke up, coughed heavily, and looked round at the generals.\r
+\r
+"Gentlemen, the dispositions for tomorrow--or rather for today, for it\r
+is past midnight--cannot now be altered," said he. "You have heard them,\r
+and we shall all do our duty. But before a battle, there is nothing more\r
+important..." he paused, "than to have a good sleep."\r
+\r
+He moved as if to rise. The generals bowed and retired. It was past\r
+midnight. Prince Andrew went out.\r
+\r
+The council of war, at which Prince Andrew had not been able to express\r
+his opinion as he had hoped to, left on him a vague and uneasy\r
+impression. Whether Dolgorukov and Weyrother, or Kutuzov, Langeron, and\r
+the others who did not approve of the plan of attack, were right--he did\r
+not know. "But was it really not possible for Kutuzov to state his views\r
+plainly to the Emperor? Is it possible that on account of court and\r
+personal considerations tens of thousands of lives, and my life, my\r
+life," he thought, "must be risked?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, it is very likely that I shall be killed tomorrow," he thought.\r
+And suddenly, at this thought of death, a whole series of most distant,\r
+most intimate, memories rose in his imagination: he remembered his last\r
+parting from his father and his wife; he remembered the days when he\r
+first loved her. He thought of her pregnancy and felt sorry for her and\r
+for himself, and in a nervously emotional and softened mood he went out\r
+of the hut in which he was billeted with Nesvitski and began to walk up\r
+and down before it.\r
+\r
+The night was foggy and through the fog the moonlight gleamed\r
+mysteriously. "Yes, tomorrow, tomorrow!" he thought. "Tomorrow\r
+everything may be over for me! All these memories will be no more, none\r
+of them will have any meaning for me. Tomorrow perhaps, even certainly,\r
+I have a presentiment that for the first time I shall have to show all I\r
+can do." And his fancy pictured the battle, its loss, the concentration\r
+of fighting at one point, and the hesitation of all the commanders. And\r
+then that happy moment, that Toulon for which he had so long waited,\r
+presents itself to him at last. He firmly and clearly expresses his\r
+opinion to Kutuzov, to Weyrother, and to the Emperors. All are struck by\r
+the justness of his views, but no one undertakes to carry them out, so\r
+he takes a regiment, a division-stipulates that no one is to interfere\r
+with his arrangements--leads his division to the decisive point, and\r
+gains the victory alone. "But death and suffering?" suggested another\r
+voice. Prince Andrew, however, did not answer that voice and went on\r
+dreaming of his triumphs. The dispositions for the next battle are\r
+planned by him alone. Nominally he is only an adjutant on Kutuzov's\r
+staff, but he does everything alone. The next battle is won by him\r
+alone. Kutuzov is removed and he is appointed... "Well and then?" asked\r
+the other voice. "If before that you are not ten times wounded, killed,\r
+or betrayed, well... what then?..." "Well then," Prince Andrew answered\r
+himself, "I don't know what will happen and don't want to know, and\r
+can't, but if I want this--want glory, want to be known to men, want to\r
+be loved by them, it is not my fault that I want it and want nothing but\r
+that and live only for that. Yes, for that alone! I shall never tell\r
+anyone, but, oh God! what am I to do if I love nothing but fame and\r
+men's esteem? Death, wounds, the loss of family--I fear nothing. And\r
+precious and dear as many persons are to me--father, sister, wife--those\r
+dearest to me--yet dreadful and unnatural as it seems, I would give them\r
+all at once for a moment of glory, of triumph over men, of love from men\r
+I don't know and never shall know, for the love of these men here," he\r
+thought, as he listened to voices in Kutuzov's courtyard. The voices\r
+were those of the orderlies who were packing up; one voice, probably a\r
+coachman's, was teasing Kutuzov's old cook whom Prince Andrew knew, and\r
+who was called Tit. He was saying, "Tit, I say, Tit!"\r
+\r
+"Well?" returned the old man.\r
+\r
+"Go, Tit, thresh a bit!" said the wag.\r
+\r
+"Oh, go to the devil!" called out a voice, drowned by the laughter of\r
+the orderlies and servants.\r
+\r
+"All the same, I love and value nothing but triumph over them all, I\r
+value this mystic power and glory that is floating here above me in this\r
+mist!"\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIII\r
+\r
+That same night, Rostov was with a platoon on skirmishing duty in front\r
+of Bagration's detachment. His hussars were placed along the line in\r
+couples and he himself rode along the line trying to master the\r
+sleepiness that kept coming over him. An enormous space, with our army's\r
+campfires dimly glowing in the fog, could be seen behind him; in front\r
+of him was misty darkness. Rostov could see nothing, peer as he would\r
+into that foggy distance: now something gleamed gray, now there was\r
+something black, now little lights seemed to glimmer where the enemy\r
+ought to be, now he fancied it was only something in his own eyes. His\r
+eyes kept closing, and in his fancy appeared--now the Emperor, now\r
+Denisov, and now Moscow memories--and he again hurriedly opened his eyes\r
+and saw close before him the head and ears of the horse he was riding,\r
+and sometimes, when he came within six paces of them, the black figures\r
+of hussars, but in the distance was still the same misty darkness. "Why\r
+not?... It might easily happen," thought Rostov, "that the Emperor will\r
+meet me and give me an order as he would to any other officer; he'll\r
+say: 'Go and find out what's there.' There are many stories of his\r
+getting to know an officer in just such a chance way and attaching him\r
+to himself! What if he gave me a place near him? Oh, how I would guard\r
+him, how I would tell him the truth, how I would unmask his deceivers!"\r
+And in order to realize vividly his love devotion to the sovereign,\r
+Rostov pictured to himself an enemy or a deceitful German, whom he would\r
+not only kill with pleasure but whom he would slap in the face before\r
+the Emperor. Suddenly a distant shout aroused him. He started and opened\r
+his eyes.\r
+\r
+"Where am I? Oh yes, in the skirmishing line... pass and watchword--\r
+shaft, Olmutz. What a nuisance that our squadron will be in reserve\r
+tomorrow," he thought. "I'll ask leave to go to the front, this may be\r
+my only chance of seeing the Emperor. It won't be long now before I am\r
+off duty. I'll take another turn and when I get back I'll go to the\r
+general and ask him." He readjusted himself in the saddle and touched up\r
+his horse to ride once more round his hussars. It seemed to him that it\r
+was getting lighter. To the left he saw a sloping descent lit up, and\r
+facing it a black knoll that seemed as steep as a wall. On this knoll\r
+there was a white patch that Rostov could not at all make out: was it a\r
+glade in the wood lit up by the moon, or some unmelted snow, or some\r
+white houses? He even thought something moved on that white spot. "I\r
+expect it's snow... that spot... a spot--une tache," he thought. "There\r
+now... it's not a tache... Natasha... sister, black eyes... Na...\r
+tasha... (Won't she be surprised when I tell her how I've seen the\r
+Emperor?) Natasha... take my sabretache..."--"Keep to the right, your\r
+honor, there are bushes here," came the voice of an hussar, past whom\r
+Rostov was riding in the act of falling asleep. Rostov lifted his head\r
+that had sunk almost to his horse's mane and pulled up beside the\r
+hussar. He was succumbing to irresistible, youthful, childish\r
+drowsiness. "But what was I thinking? I mustn't forget. How shall I\r
+speak to the Emperor? No, that's not it--that's tomorrow. Oh yes!\r
+Natasha... sabretache... saber them... Whom? The hussars... Ah, the\r
+hussars with mustaches. Along the Tverskaya Street rode the hussar with\r
+mustaches... I thought about him too, just opposite Guryev's house...\r
+Old Guryev.... Oh, but Denisov's a fine fellow. But that's all nonsense.\r
+The chief thing is that the Emperor is here. How he looked at me and\r
+wished to say something, but dared not.... No, it was I who dared not.\r
+But that's nonsense, the chief thing is not to forget the important\r
+thing I was thinking of. Yes, Na-tasha, sabretache, oh, yes, yes! That's\r
+right!" And his head once more sank to his horse's neck. All at once it\r
+seemed to him that he was being fired at. "What? What? What?... Cut them\r
+down! What?..." said Rostov, waking up. At the moment he opened his eyes\r
+he heard in front of him, where the enemy was, the long-drawn shouts of\r
+thousands of voices. His horse and the horse of the hussar near him\r
+pricked their ears at these shouts. Over there, where the shouting came\r
+from, a fire flared up and went out again, then another, and all along\r
+the French line on the hill fires flared up and the shouting grew louder\r
+and louder. Rostov could hear the sound of French words but could not\r
+distinguish them. The din of many voices was too great; all he could\r
+hear was: "ahahah!" and "rrrr!"\r
+\r
+"What's that? What do you make of it?" said Rostov to the hussar beside\r
+him. "That must be the enemy's camp!"\r
+\r
+The hussar did not reply.\r
+\r
+"Why, don't you hear it?" Rostov asked again, after waiting for a reply.\r
+\r
+"Who can tell, your honor?" replied the hussar reluctantly.\r
+\r
+"From the direction, it must be the enemy," repeated Rostov.\r
+\r
+"It may be he or it may be nothing," muttered the hussar. "It's dark...\r
+Steady!" he cried to his fidgeting horse.\r
+\r
+Rostov's horse was also getting restive: it pawed the frozen ground,\r
+pricking its ears at the noise and looking at the lights. The shouting\r
+grew still louder and merged into a general roar that only an army of\r
+several thousand men could produce. The lights spread farther and\r
+farther, probably along the line of the French camp. Rostov no longer\r
+wanted to sleep. The gay triumphant shouting of the enemy army had a\r
+stimulating effect on him. "Vive l'Empereur! L'Empereur!" he now heard\r
+distinctly.\r
+\r
+"They can't be far off, probably just beyond the stream," he said to the\r
+hussar beside him.\r
+\r
+The hussar only sighed without replying and coughed angrily. The sound\r
+of horse's hoofs approaching at a trot along the line of hussars was\r
+heard, and out of the foggy darkness the figure of a sergeant of hussars\r
+suddenly appeared, looming huge as an elephant.\r
+\r
+"Your honor, the generals!" said the sergeant, riding up to Rostov.\r
+\r
+Rostov, still looking round toward the fires and the shouts, rode with\r
+the sergeant to meet some mounted men who were riding along the line.\r
+One was on a white horse. Prince Bagration and Prince Dolgorukov with\r
+their adjutants had come to witness the curious phenomenon of the lights\r
+and shouts in the enemy's camp. Rostov rode up to Bagration, reported to\r
+him, and then joined the adjutants listening to what the generals were\r
+saying.\r
+\r
+"Believe me," said Prince Dolgorukov, addressing Bagration, "it is\r
+nothing but a trick! He has retreated and ordered the rearguard to\r
+kindle fires and make a noise to deceive us."\r
+\r
+"Hardly," said Bagration. "I saw them this evening on that knoll; if\r
+they had retreated they would have withdrawn from that too.... Officer!"\r
+said Bagration to Rostov, "are the enemy's skirmishers still there?"\r
+\r
+"They were there this evening, but now I don't know, your excellency.\r
+Shall I go with some of my hussars to see?" replied Rostov.\r
+\r
+Bagration stopped and, before replying, tried to see Rostov's face in\r
+the mist.\r
+\r
+"Well, go and see," he said, after a pause.\r
+\r
+"Yes, sir."\r
+\r
+Rostov spurred his horse, called to Sergeant Fedchenko and two other\r
+hussars, told them to follow him, and trotted downhill in the direction\r
+from which the shouting came. He felt both frightened and pleased to be\r
+riding alone with three hussars into that mysterious and dangerous misty\r
+distance where no one had been before him. Bagration called to him from\r
+the hill not to go beyond the stream, but Rostov pretended not to hear\r
+him and did not stop but rode on and on, continually mistaking bushes\r
+for trees and gullies for men and continually discovering his mistakes.\r
+Having descended the hill at a trot, he no longer saw either our own or\r
+the enemy's fires, but heard the shouting of the French more loudly and\r
+distinctly. In the valley he saw before him something like a river, but\r
+when he reached it he found it was a road. Having come out onto the road\r
+he reined in his horse, hesitating whether to ride along it or cross it\r
+and ride over the black field up the hillside. To keep to the road which\r
+gleamed white in the mist would have been safer because it would be\r
+easier to see people coming along it. "Follow me!" said he, crossed the\r
+road, and began riding up the hill at a gallop toward the point where\r
+the French pickets had been standing that evening.\r
+\r
+"Your honor, there he is!" cried one of the hussars behind him. And\r
+before Rostov had time to make out what the black thing was that had\r
+suddenly appeared in the fog, there was a flash, followed by a report,\r
+and a bullet whizzing high up in the mist with a plaintive sound passed\r
+out of hearing. Another musket missed fire but flashed in the pan.\r
+Rostov turned his horse and galloped back. Four more reports followed at\r
+intervals, and the bullets passed somewhere in the fog singing in\r
+different tones. Rostov reined in his horse, whose spirits had risen,\r
+like his own, at the firing, and went back at a footpace. "Well, some\r
+more! Some more!" a merry voice was saying in his soul. But no more\r
+shots came.\r
+\r
+Only when approaching Bagration did Rostov let his horse gallop again,\r
+and with his hand at the salute rode up to the general.\r
+\r
+Dolgorukov was still insisting that the French had retreated and had\r
+only lit fires to deceive us.\r
+\r
+"What does that prove?" he was saying as Rostov rode up. "They might\r
+retreat and leave the pickets."\r
+\r
+"It's plain that they have not all gone yet, Prince," said Bagration.\r
+"Wait till tomorrow morning, we'll find out everything tomorrow."\r
+\r
+"The picket is still on the hill, your excellency, just where it was in\r
+the evening," reported Rostov, stooping forward with his hand at the\r
+salute and unable to repress the smile of delight induced by his ride\r
+and especially by the sound of the bullets.\r
+\r
+"Very good, very good," said Bagration. "Thank you, officer."\r
+\r
+"Your excellency," said Rostov, "may I ask a favor?"\r
+\r
+"What is it?"\r
+\r
+"Tomorrow our squadron is to be in reserve. May I ask to be attached to\r
+the first squadron?"\r
+\r
+"What's your name?"\r
+\r
+"Count Rostov."\r
+\r
+"Oh, very well, you may stay in attendance on me."\r
+\r
+"Count Ilya Rostov's son?" asked Dolgorukov.\r
+\r
+But Rostov did not reply.\r
+\r
+"Then I may reckon on it, your excellency?"\r
+\r
+"I will give the order."\r
+\r
+"Tomorrow very likely I may be sent with some message to the Emperor,"\r
+thought Rostov.\r
+\r
+"Thank God!"\r
+\r
+The fires and shouting in the enemy's army were occasioned by the fact\r
+that while Napoleon's proclamation was being read to the troops the\r
+Emperor himself rode round his bivouacs. The soldiers, on seeing him,\r
+lit wisps of straw and ran after him, shouting, "Vive l'Empereur!"\r
+Napoleon's proclamation was as follows:\r
+\r
+Soldiers! The Russian army is advancing against you to avenge the\r
+Austrian army of Ulm. They are the same battalions you broke at\r
+Hollabrunn and have pursued ever since to this place. The position we\r
+occupy is a strong one, and while they are marching to go round me on\r
+the right they will expose a flank to me. Soldiers! I will myself direct\r
+your battalions. I will keep out of fire if you with your habitual valor\r
+carry disorder and confusion into the enemy's ranks, but should victory\r
+be in doubt, even for a moment, you will see your Emperor exposing\r
+himself to the first blows of the enemy, for there must be no doubt of\r
+victory, especially on this day when what is at stake is the honor of\r
+the French infantry, so necessary to the honor of our nation.\r
+\r
+Do not break your ranks on the plea of removing the wounded! Let every\r
+man be fully imbued with the thought that we must defeat these hirelings\r
+of England, inspired by such hatred of our nation! This victory will\r
+conclude our campaign and we can return to winter quarters, where fresh\r
+French troops who are being raised in France will join us, and the peace\r
+I shall conclude will be worthy of my people, of you, and of myself.\r
+\r
+NAPOLEON\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIV\r
+\r
+At five in the morning it was still quite dark. The troops of the\r
+center, the reserves, and Bagration's right flank had not yet moved, but\r
+on the left flank the columns of infantry, cavalry, and artillery, which\r
+were to be the first to descend the heights to attack the French right\r
+flank and drive it into the Bohemian mountains according to plan, were\r
+already up and astir. The smoke of the campfires, into which they were\r
+throwing everything superfluous, made the eyes smart. It was cold and\r
+dark. The officers were hurriedly drinking tea and breakfasting, the\r
+soldiers, munching biscuit and beating a tattoo with their feet to warm\r
+themselves, gathering round the fires throwing into the flames the\r
+remains of sheds, chairs, tables, wheels, tubs, and everything that they\r
+did not want or could not carry away with them. Austrian column guides\r
+were moving in and out among the Russian troops and served as heralds of\r
+the advance. As soon as an Austrian officer showed himself near a\r
+commanding officer's quarters, the regiment began to move: the soldiers\r
+ran from the fires, thrust their pipes into their boots, their bags into\r
+the carts, got their muskets ready, and formed rank. The officers\r
+buttoned up their coats, buckled on their swords and pouches, and moved\r
+along the ranks shouting. The train drivers and orderlies harnessed and\r
+packed the wagons and tied on the loads. The adjutants and battalion and\r
+regimental commanders mounted, crossed themselves, gave final\r
+instructions, orders, and commissions to the baggage men who remained\r
+behind, and the monotonous tramp of thousands of feet resounded. The\r
+column moved forward without knowing where and unable, from the masses\r
+around them, the smoke and the increasing fog, to see either the place\r
+they were leaving or that to which they were going.\r
+\r
+A soldier on the march is hemmed in and borne along by his regiment as\r
+much as a sailor is by his ship. However far he has walked, whatever\r
+strange, unknown, and dangerous places he reaches, just as a sailor is\r
+always surrounded by the same decks, masts, and rigging of his ship, so\r
+the soldier always has around him the same comrades, the same ranks, the\r
+same sergeant major Ivan Mitrich, the same company dog Jack, and the\r
+same commanders. The sailor rarely cares to know the latitude in which\r
+his ship is sailing, but on the day of battle--heaven knows how and\r
+whence--a stern note of which all are conscious sounds in the moral\r
+atmosphere of an army, announcing the approach of something decisive and\r
+solemn, and awakening in the men an unusual curiosity. On the day of\r
+battle the soldiers excitedly try to get beyond the interests of their\r
+regiment, they listen intently, look about, and eagerly ask concerning\r
+what is going on around them.\r
+\r
+The fog had grown so dense that though it was growing light they could\r
+not see ten paces ahead. Bushes looked like gigantic trees and level\r
+ground like cliffs and slopes. Anywhere, on any side, one might\r
+encounter an enemy invisible ten paces off. But the columns advanced for\r
+a long time, always in the same fog, descending and ascending hills,\r
+avoiding gardens and enclosures, going over new and unknown ground, and\r
+nowhere encountering the enemy. On the contrary, the soldiers became\r
+aware that in front, behind, and on all sides, other Russian columns\r
+were moving in the same direction. Every soldier felt glad to know that\r
+to the unknown place where he was going, many more of our men were going\r
+too.\r
+\r
+"There now, the Kurskies have also gone past," was being said in the\r
+ranks.\r
+\r
+"It's wonderful what a lot of our troops have gathered, lads! Last night\r
+I looked at the campfires and there was no end of them. A regular\r
+Moscow!"\r
+\r
+Though none of the column commanders rode up to the ranks or talked to\r
+the men (the commanders, as we saw at the council of war, were out of\r
+humor and dissatisfied with the affair, and so did not exert themselves\r
+to cheer the men but merely carried out the orders), yet the troops\r
+marched gaily, as they always do when going into action, especially to\r
+an attack. But when they had marched for about an hour in the dense fog,\r
+the greater part of the men had to halt and an unpleasant consciousness\r
+of some dislocation and blunder spread through the ranks. How such a\r
+consciousness is communicated is very difficult to define, but it\r
+certainly is communicated very surely, and flows rapidly, imperceptibly,\r
+and irrepressibly, as water does in a creek. Had the Russian army been\r
+alone without any allies, it might perhaps have been a long time before\r
+this consciousness of mismanagement became a general conviction, but as\r
+it was, the disorder was readily and naturally attributed to the stupid\r
+Germans, and everyone was convinced that a dangerous muddle had been\r
+occasioned by the sausage eaters.\r
+\r
+"Why have we stopped? Is the way blocked? Or have we already come up\r
+against the French?"\r
+\r
+"No, one can't hear them. They'd be firing if we had."\r
+\r
+"They were in a hurry enough to start us, and now here we stand in the\r
+middle of a field without rhyme or reason. It's all those damned\r
+Germans' muddling! What stupid devils!"\r
+\r
+"Yes, I'd send them on in front, but no fear, they're crowding up\r
+behind. And now here we stand hungry."\r
+\r
+"I say, shall we soon be clear? They say the cavalry are blocking the\r
+way," said an officer.\r
+\r
+"Ah, those damned Germans! They don't know their own country!" said\r
+another.\r
+\r
+"What division are you?" shouted an adjutant, riding up.\r
+\r
+"The Eighteenth."\r
+\r
+"Then why are you here? You should have gone on long ago, now you won't\r
+get there till evening."\r
+\r
+"What stupid orders! They don't themselves know what they are doing!"\r
+said the officer and rode off.\r
+\r
+Then a general rode past shouting something angrily, not in Russian.\r
+\r
+"Tafa-lafa! But what he's jabbering no one can make out," said a\r
+soldier, mimicking the general who had ridden away. "I'd shoot them, the\r
+scoundrels!"\r
+\r
+"We were ordered to be at the place before nine, but we haven't got\r
+halfway. Fine orders!" was being repeated on different sides.\r
+\r
+And the feeling of energy with which the troops had started began to\r
+turn into vexation and anger at the stupid arrangements and at the\r
+Germans.\r
+\r
+The cause of the confusion was that while the Austrian cavalry was\r
+moving toward our left flank, the higher command found that our center\r
+was too far separated from our right flank and the cavalry were all\r
+ordered to turn back to the right. Several thousand cavalry crossed in\r
+front of the infantry, who had to wait.\r
+\r
+At the front an altercation occurred between an Austrian guide and a\r
+Russian general. The general shouted a demand that the cavalry should be\r
+halted, the Austrian argued that not he, but the higher command, was to\r
+blame. The troops meanwhile stood growing listless and dispirited. After\r
+an hour's delay they at last moved on, descending the hill. The fog that\r
+was dispersing on the hill lay still more densely below, where they were\r
+descending. In front in the fog a shot was heard and then another, at\r
+first irregularly at varying intervals--trata... tat--and then more and\r
+more regularly and rapidly, and the action at the Goldbach Stream began.\r
+\r
+Not expecting to come on the enemy down by the stream, and having\r
+stumbled on him in the fog, hearing no encouraging word from their\r
+commanders, and with a consciousness of being too late spreading through\r
+the ranks, and above all being unable to see anything in front or around\r
+them in the thick fog, the Russians exchanged shots with the enemy\r
+lazily and advanced and again halted, receiving no timely orders from\r
+the officers or adjutants who wandered about in the fog in those unknown\r
+surroundings unable to find their own regiments. In this way the action\r
+began for the first, second, and third columns, which had gone down into\r
+the valley. The fourth column, with which Kutuzov was, stood on the\r
+Pratzen Heights.\r
+\r
+Below, where the fight was beginning, there was still thick fog; on the\r
+higher ground it was clearing, but nothing could be seen of what was\r
+going on in front. Whether all the enemy forces were, as we supposed,\r
+six miles away, or whether they were near by in that sea of mist, no one\r
+knew till after eight o'clock.\r
+\r
+It was nine o'clock in the morning. The fog lay unbroken like a sea down\r
+below, but higher up at the village of Schlappanitz where Napoleon stood\r
+with his marshals around him, it was quite light. Above him was a clear\r
+blue sky, and the sun's vast orb quivered like a huge hollow, crimson\r
+float on the surface of that milky sea of mist. The whole French army,\r
+and even Napoleon himself with his staff, were not on the far side of\r
+the streams and hollows of Sokolnitz and Schlappanitz beyond which we\r
+intended to take up our position and begin the action, but were on this\r
+side, so close to our own forces that Napoleon with the naked eye could\r
+distinguish a mounted man from one on foot. Napoleon, in the blue cloak\r
+which he had worn on his Italian campaign, sat on his small gray Arab\r
+horse a little in front of his marshals. He gazed silently at the hills\r
+which seemed to rise out of the sea of mist and on which the Russian\r
+troops were moving in the distance, and he listened to the sounds of\r
+firing in the valley. Not a single muscle of his face--which in those\r
+days was still thin--moved. His gleaming eyes were fixed intently on one\r
+spot. His predictions were being justified. Part of the Russian force\r
+had already descended into the valley toward the ponds and lakes and\r
+part were leaving these Pratzen Heights which he intended to attack and\r
+regarded as the key to the position. He saw over the mist that in a\r
+hollow between two hills near the village of Pratzen, the Russian\r
+columns, their bayonets glittering, were moving continuously in one\r
+direction toward the valley and disappearing one after another into the\r
+mist. From information he had received the evening before, from the\r
+sound of wheels and footsteps heard by the outposts during the night, by\r
+the disorderly movement of the Russian columns, and from all\r
+indications, he saw clearly that the allies believed him to be far away\r
+in front of them, and that the columns moving near Pratzen constituted\r
+the center of the Russian army, and that that center was already\r
+sufficiently weakened to be successfully attacked. But still he did not\r
+begin the engagement.\r
+\r
+Today was a great day for him--the anniversary of his coronation. Before\r
+dawn he had slept for a few hours, and refreshed, vigorous, and in good\r
+spirits, he mounted his horse and rode out into the field in that happy\r
+mood in which everything seems possible and everything succeeds. He sat\r
+motionless, looking at the heights visible above the mist, and his cold\r
+face wore that special look of confident, self-complacent happiness that\r
+one sees on the face of a boy happily in love. The marshals stood behind\r
+him not venturing to distract his attention. He looked now at the\r
+Pratzen Heights, now at the sun floating up out of the mist.\r
+\r
+When the sun had entirely emerged from the fog, and fields and mist were\r
+aglow with dazzling light--as if he had only awaited this to begin the\r
+action--he drew the glove from his shapely white hand, made a sign with\r
+it to the marshals, and ordered the action to begin. The marshals,\r
+accompanied by adjutants, galloped off in different directions, and a\r
+few minutes later the chief forces of the French army moved rapidly\r
+toward those Pratzen Heights which were being more and more denuded by\r
+Russian troops moving down the valley to their left.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XV\r
+\r
+At eight o'clock Kutuzov rode to Pratzen at the head of the fourth\r
+column, Miloradovich's, the one that was to take the place of\r
+Przebyszewski's and Langeron's columns which had already gone down into\r
+the valley. He greeted the men of the foremost regiment and gave them\r
+the order to march, thereby indicating that he intended to lead that\r
+column himself. When he had reached the village of Pratzen he halted.\r
+Prince Andrew was behind, among the immense number forming the\r
+commander-in-chief's suite. He was in a state of suppressed excitement\r
+and irritation, though controlledly calm as a man is at the approach of\r
+a long-awaited moment. He was firmly convinced that this was the day of\r
+his Toulon, or his bridge of Arcola. How it would come about he did not\r
+know, but he felt sure it would do so. The locality and the position of\r
+our troops were known to him as far as they could be known to anyone in\r
+our army. His own strategic plan, which obviously could not now be\r
+carried out, was forgotten. Now, entering into Weyrother's plan, Prince\r
+Andrew considered possible contingencies and formed new projects such as\r
+might call for his rapidity of perception and decision.\r
+\r
+To the left down below in the mist, the musketry fire of unseen forces\r
+could be heard. It was there Prince Andrew thought the fight would\r
+concentrate. "There we shall encounter difficulties, and there," thought\r
+he, "I shall be sent with a brigade or division, and there, standard in\r
+hand, I shall go forward and break whatever is in front of me."\r
+\r
+He could not look calmly at the standards of the passing battalions.\r
+Seeing them he kept thinking, "That may be the very standard with which\r
+I shall lead the army."\r
+\r
+In the morning all that was left of the night mist on the heights was a\r
+hoar frost now turning to dew, but in the valleys it still lay like a\r
+milk-white sea. Nothing was visible in the valley to the left into which\r
+our troops had descended and from whence came the sounds of firing.\r
+Above the heights was the dark clear sky, and to the right the vast orb\r
+of the sun. In front, far off on the farther shore of that sea of mist,\r
+some wooded hills were discernible, and it was there the enemy probably\r
+was, for something could be descried. On the right the Guards were\r
+entering the misty region with a sound of hoofs and wheels and now and\r
+then a gleam of bayonets; to the left beyond the village similar masses\r
+of cavalry came up and disappeared in the sea of mist. In front and\r
+behind moved infantry. The commander-in-chief was standing at the end of\r
+the village letting the troops pass by him. That morning Kutuzov seemed\r
+worn and irritable. The infantry passing before him came to a halt\r
+without any command being given, apparently obstructed by something in\r
+front.\r
+\r
+"Do order them to form into battalion columns and go round the village!"\r
+he said angrily to a general who had ridden up. "Don't you understand,\r
+your excellency, my dear sir, that you must not defile through narrow\r
+village streets when we are marching against the enemy?"\r
+\r
+"I intended to re-form them beyond the village, your excellency,"\r
+answered the general.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov laughed bitterly.\r
+\r
+"You'll make a fine thing of it, deploying in sight of the enemy! Very\r
+fine!"\r
+\r
+"The enemy is still far away, your excellency. According to the\r
+dispositions..."\r
+\r
+"The dispositions!" exclaimed Kutuzov bitterly. "Who told you that?...\r
+Kindly do as you are ordered."\r
+\r
+"Yes, sir."\r
+\r
+"My dear fellow," Nesvitski whispered to Prince Andrew, "the old man is\r
+as surly as a dog."\r
+\r
+An Austrian officer in a white uniform with green plumes in his hat\r
+galloped up to Kutuzov and asked in the Emperor's name had the fourth\r
+column advanced into action.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov turned round without answering and his eye happened to fall upon\r
+Prince Andrew, who was beside him. Seeing him, Kutuzov's malevolent and\r
+caustic expression softened, as if admitting that what was being done\r
+was not his adjutant's fault, and still not answering the Austrian\r
+adjutant, he addressed Bolkonski.\r
+\r
+"Go, my dear fellow, and see whether the third division has passed the\r
+village. Tell it to stop and await my orders."\r
+\r
+Hardly had Prince Andrew started than he stopped him.\r
+\r
+"And ask whether sharpshooters have been posted," he added. "What are\r
+they doing? What are they doing?" he murmured to himself, still not\r
+replying to the Austrian.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew galloped off to execute the order.\r
+\r
+Overtaking the battalions that continued to advance, he stopped the\r
+third division and convinced himself that there really were no\r
+sharpshooters in front of our columns. The colonel at the head of the\r
+regiment was much surprised at the commander-in-chief's order to throw\r
+out skirmishers. He had felt perfectly sure that there were other troops\r
+in front of him and that the enemy must be at least six miles away.\r
+There was really nothing to be seen in front except a barren descent\r
+hidden by dense mist. Having given orders in the commander-in-chief's\r
+name to rectify this omission, Prince Andrew galloped back. Kutuzov\r
+still in the same place, his stout body resting heavily in the saddle\r
+with the lassitude of age, sat yawning wearily with closed eyes. The\r
+troops were no longer moving, but stood with the butts of their muskets\r
+on the ground.\r
+\r
+"All right, all right!" he said to Prince Andrew, and turned to a\r
+general who, watch in hand, was saying it was time they started as all\r
+the left-flank columns had already descended.\r
+\r
+"Plenty of time, your excellency," muttered Kutuzov in the midst of a\r
+yawn. "Plenty of time," he repeated.\r
+\r
+Just then at a distance behind Kutuzov was heard the sound of regiments\r
+saluting, and this sound rapidly came nearer along the whole extended\r
+line of the advancing Russian columns. Evidently the person they were\r
+greeting was riding quickly. When the soldiers of the regiment in front\r
+of which Kutuzov was standing began to shout, he rode a little to one\r
+side and looked round with a frown. Along the road from Pratzen galloped\r
+what looked like a squadron of horsemen in various uniforms. Two of them\r
+rode side by side in front, at full gallop. One in a black uniform with\r
+white plumes in his hat rode a bobtailed chestnut horse, the other who\r
+was in a white uniform rode a black one. These were the two Emperors\r
+followed by their suites. Kutuzov, affecting the manners of an old\r
+soldier at the front, gave the command "Attention!" and rode up to the\r
+Emperors with a salute. His whole appearance and manner were suddenly\r
+transformed. He put on the air of a subordinate who obeys without\r
+reasoning. With an affectation of respect which evidently struck\r
+Alexander unpleasantly, he rode up and saluted.\r
+\r
+This unpleasant impression merely flitted over the young and happy face\r
+of the Emperor like a cloud of haze across a clear sky and vanished.\r
+After his illness he looked rather thinner that day than on the field of\r
+Olmutz where Bolkonski had seen him for the first time abroad, but there\r
+was still the same bewitching combination of majesty and mildness in his\r
+fine gray eyes, and on his delicate lips the same capacity for varying\r
+expression and the same prevalent appearance of goodhearted innocent\r
+youth.\r
+\r
+At the Olmutz review he had seemed more majestic; here he seemed\r
+brighter and more energetic. He was slightly flushed after galloping two\r
+miles, and reining in his horse he sighed restfully and looked round at\r
+the faces of his suite, young and animated as his own. Czartoryski,\r
+Novosiltsev, Prince Volkonsky, Strogonov, and the others, all richly\r
+dressed gay young men on splendid, well-groomed, fresh, only slightly\r
+heated horses, exchanging remarks and smiling, had stopped behind the\r
+Emperor. The Emperor Francis, a rosy, long faced young man, sat very\r
+erect on his handsome black horse, looking about him in a leisurely and\r
+preoccupied manner. He beckoned to one of his white adjutants and asked\r
+some question--"Most likely he is asking at what o'clock they started,"\r
+thought Prince Andrew, watching his old acquaintance with a smile he\r
+could not repress as he recalled his reception at Brunn. In the\r
+Emperors' suite were the picked young orderly officers of the Guard and\r
+line regiments, Russian and Austrian. Among them were grooms leading the\r
+Tsar's beautiful relay horses covered with embroidered cloths.\r
+\r
+As when a window is opened a whiff of fresh air from the fields enters a\r
+stuffy room, so a whiff of youthfulness, energy, and confidence of\r
+success reached Kutuzov's cheerless staff with the galloping advent of\r
+all these brilliant young men.\r
+\r
+"Why aren't you beginning, Michael Ilarionovich?" said the Emperor\r
+Alexander hurriedly to Kutuzov, glancing courteously at the same time at\r
+the Emperor Francis.\r
+\r
+"I am waiting, Your Majesty," answered Kutuzov, bending forward\r
+respectfully.\r
+\r
+The Emperor, frowning slightly, bent his ear forward as if he had not\r
+quite heard.\r
+\r
+"Waiting, Your Majesty," repeated Kutuzov. (Prince Andrew noted that\r
+Kutuzov's upper lip twitched unnaturally as he said the word "waiting.")\r
+"Not all the columns have formed up yet, Your Majesty."\r
+\r
+The Tsar heard but obviously did not like the reply; he shrugged his\r
+rather round shoulders and glanced at Novosiltsev who was near him, as\r
+if complaining of Kutuzov.\r
+\r
+"You know, Michael Ilarionovich, we are not on the Empress' Field where\r
+a parade does not begin till all the troops are assembled," said the\r
+Tsar with another glance at the Emperor Francis, as if inviting him if\r
+not to join in at least to listen to what he was saying. But the Emperor\r
+Francis continued to look about him and did not listen.\r
+\r
+"That is just why I do not begin, sire," said Kutuzov in a resounding\r
+voice, apparently to preclude the possibility of not being heard, and\r
+again something in his face twitched--"That is just why I do not begin,\r
+sire, because we are not on parade and not on the Empress' Field," said\r
+clearly and distinctly.\r
+\r
+In the Emperor's suite all exchanged rapid looks that expressed\r
+dissatisfaction and reproach. "Old though he may be, he should not, he\r
+certainly should not, speak like that," their glances seemed to say.\r
+\r
+The Tsar looked intently and observantly into Kutuzov's eye waiting to\r
+hear whether he would say anything more. But Kutuzov, with respectfully\r
+bowed head, seemed also to be waiting. The silence lasted for about a\r
+minute.\r
+\r
+"However, if you command it, Your Majesty," said Kutuzov, lifting his\r
+head and again assuming his former tone of a dull, unreasoning, but\r
+submissive general.\r
+\r
+He touched his horse and having called Miloradovich, the commander of\r
+the column, gave him the order to advance.\r
+\r
+The troops again began to move, and two battalions of the Novgorod and\r
+one of the Apsheron regiment went forward past the Emperor.\r
+\r
+As this Apsheron battalion marched by, the red-faced Miloradovich,\r
+without his greatcoat, with his Orders on his breast and an enormous\r
+tuft of plumes in his cocked hat worn on one side with its corners front\r
+and back, galloped strenuously forward, and with a dashing salute reined\r
+in his horse before the Emperor.\r
+\r
+"God be with you, general!" said the Emperor.\r
+\r
+"Ma foi, sire, nous ferons ce qui sera dans notre possibilite, sire," *\r
+he answered gaily, raising nevertheless ironic smiles among the\r
+gentlemen of the Tsar's suite by his poor French.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Indeed, Sire, we shall do everything it is possible to do, Sire."\r
+\r
+Miloradovich wheeled his horse sharply and stationed himself a little\r
+behind the Emperor. The Apsheron men, excited by the Tsar's presence,\r
+passed in step before the Emperors and their suites at a bold, brisk\r
+pace.\r
+\r
+"Lads!" shouted Miloradovich in a loud, self-confident, and cheery\r
+voice, obviously so elated by the sound of firing, by the prospect of\r
+battle, and by the sight of the gallant Apsherons, his comrades in\r
+Suvorov's time, now passing so gallantly before the Emperors, that he\r
+forgot the sovereigns' presence. "Lads, it's not the first village\r
+you've had to take," cried he.\r
+\r
+"Glad to do our best!" shouted the soldiers.\r
+\r
+The Emperor's horse started at the sudden cry. This horse that had\r
+carried the sovereign at reviews in Russia bore him also here on the\r
+field of Austerlitz, enduring the heedless blows of his left foot and\r
+pricking its ears at the sound of shots just as it had done on the\r
+Empress' Field, not understanding the significance of the firing, nor of\r
+the nearness of the Emperor Francis' black cob, nor of all that was\r
+being said, thought, and felt that day by its rider.\r
+\r
+The Emperor turned with a smile to one of his followers and made a\r
+remark to him, pointing to the gallant Apsherons.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVI\r
+\r
+Kutuzov accompanied by his adjutants rode at a walking pace behind the\r
+carabineers.\r
+\r
+When he had gone less than half a mile in the rear of the column he\r
+stopped at a solitary, deserted house that had probably once been an\r
+inn, where two roads parted. Both of them led downhill and troops were\r
+marching along both.\r
+\r
+The fog had begun to clear and enemy troops were already dimly visible\r
+about a mile and a half off on the opposite heights. Down below, on the\r
+left, the firing became more distinct. Kutuzov had stopped and was\r
+speaking to an Austrian general. Prince Andrew, who was a little behind\r
+looking at them, turned to an adjutant to ask him for a field glass.\r
+\r
+"Look, look!" said this adjutant, looking not at the troops in the\r
+distance, but down the hill before him. "It's the French!"\r
+\r
+The two generals and the adjutant took hold of the field glass, trying\r
+to snatch it from one another. The expression on all their faces\r
+suddenly changed to one of horror. The French were supposed to be a mile\r
+and a half away, but had suddenly and unexpectedly appeared just in\r
+front of us.\r
+\r
+"It's the enemy?... No!... Yes, see it is!... for certain.... But how is\r
+that?" said different voices.\r
+\r
+With the naked eye Prince Andrew saw below them to the right, not more\r
+than five hundred paces from where Kutuzov was standing, a dense French\r
+column coming up to meet the Apsherons.\r
+\r
+"Here it is! The decisive moment has arrived. My turn has come," thought\r
+Prince Andrew, and striking his horse he rode up to Kutuzov.\r
+\r
+"The Apsherons must be stopped, your excellency," cried he. But at that\r
+very instant a cloud of smoke spread all round, firing was heard quite\r
+close at hand, and a voice of naive terror barely two steps from Prince\r
+Andrew shouted, "Brothers! All's lost!" And at this as if at a command,\r
+everyone began to run.\r
+\r
+Confused and ever-increasing crowds were running back to where five\r
+minutes before the troops had passed the Emperors. Not only would it\r
+have been difficult to stop that crowd, it was even impossible not to be\r
+carried back with it oneself. Bolkonski only tried not to lose touch\r
+with it, and looked around bewildered and unable to grasp what was\r
+happening in front of him. Nesvitski with an angry face, red and unlike\r
+himself, was shouting to Kutuzov that if he did not ride away at once he\r
+would certainly be taken prisoner. Kutuzov remained in the same place\r
+and without answering drew out a handkerchief. Blood was flowing from\r
+his cheek. Prince Andrew forced his way to him.\r
+\r
+"You are wounded?" he asked, hardly able to master the trembling of his\r
+lower jaw.\r
+\r
+"The wound is not here, it is there!" said Kutuzov, pressing the\r
+handkerchief to his wounded cheek and pointing to the fleeing soldiers.\r
+"Stop them!" he shouted, and at the same moment, probably realizing that\r
+it was impossible to stop them, spurred his horse and rode to the right.\r
+\r
+A fresh wave of the flying mob caught him and bore him back with it.\r
+\r
+The troops were running in such a dense mass that once surrounded by\r
+them it was difficult to get out again. One was shouting, "Get on! Why\r
+are you hindering us?" Another in the same place turned round and fired\r
+in the air; a third was striking the horse Kutuzov himself rode. Having\r
+by a great effort got away to the left from that flood of men, Kutuzov,\r
+with his suite diminished by more than half, rode toward a sound of\r
+artillery fire near by. Having forced his way out of the crowd of\r
+fugitives, Prince Andrew, trying to keep near Kutuzov, saw on the slope\r
+of the hill amid the smoke a Russian battery that was still firing and\r
+Frenchmen running toward it. Higher up stood some Russian infantry,\r
+neither moving forward to protect the battery nor backward with the\r
+fleeing crowd. A mounted general separated himself from the infantry and\r
+approached Kutuzov. Of Kutuzov's suite only four remained. They were all\r
+pale and exchanged looks in silence.\r
+\r
+"Stop those wretches!" gasped Kutuzov to the regimental commander,\r
+pointing to the flying soldiers; but at that instant, as if to punish\r
+him for those words, bullets flew hissing across the regiment and across\r
+Kutuzov's suite like a flock of little birds.\r
+\r
+The French had attacked the battery and, seeing Kutuzov, were firing at\r
+him. After this volley the regimental commander clutched at his leg;\r
+several soldiers fell, and a second lieutenant who was holding the flag\r
+let it fall from his hands. It swayed and fell, but caught on the\r
+muskets of the nearest soldiers. The soldiers started firing without\r
+orders.\r
+\r
+"Oh! Oh! Oh!" groaned Kutuzov despairingly and looked around....\r
+"Bolkonski!" he whispered, his voice trembling from a consciousness of\r
+the feebleness of age, "Bolkonski!" he whispered, pointing to the\r
+disordered battalion and at the enemy, "what's that?"\r
+\r
+But before he had finished speaking, Prince Andrew, feeling tears of\r
+shame and anger choking him, had already leapt from his horse and run to\r
+the standard.\r
+\r
+"Forward, lads!" he shouted in a voice piercing as a child's.\r
+\r
+"Here it is!" thought he, seizing the staff of the standard and hearing\r
+with pleasure the whistle of bullets evidently aimed at him. Several\r
+soldiers fell.\r
+\r
+"Hurrah!" shouted Prince Andrew, and, scarcely able to hold up the heavy\r
+standard, he ran forward with full confidence that the whole battalion\r
+would follow him.\r
+\r
+And really he only ran a few steps alone. One soldier moved and then\r
+another and soon the whole battalion ran forward shouting "Hurrah!" and\r
+overtook him. A sergeant of the battalion ran up and took the flag that\r
+was swaying from its weight in Prince Andrew's hands, but he was\r
+immediately killed. Prince Andrew again seized the standard and,\r
+dragging it by the staff, ran on with the battalion. In front he saw our\r
+artillerymen, some of whom were fighting, while others, having abandoned\r
+their guns, were running toward him. He also saw French infantry\r
+soldiers who were seizing the artillery horses and turning the guns\r
+round. Prince Andrew and the battalion were already within twenty paces\r
+of the cannon. He heard the whistle of bullets above him unceasingly and\r
+to right and left of him soldiers continually groaned and dropped. But\r
+he did not look at them: he looked only at what was going on in front of\r
+him--at the battery. He now saw clearly the figure of a red-haired\r
+gunner with his shako knocked awry, pulling one end of a mop while a\r
+French soldier tugged at the other. He could distinctly see the\r
+distraught yet angry expression on the faces of these two men, who\r
+evidently did not realize what they were doing.\r
+\r
+"What are they about?" thought Prince Andrew as he gazed at them. "Why\r
+doesn't the red-haired gunner run away as he is unarmed? Why doesn't the\r
+Frenchman stab him? He will not get away before the Frenchman remembers\r
+his bayonet and stabs him...."\r
+\r
+And really another French soldier, trailing his musket, ran up to the\r
+struggling men, and the fate of the red-haired gunner, who had\r
+triumphantly secured the mop and still did not realize what awaited him,\r
+was about to be decided. But Prince Andrew did not see how it ended. It\r
+seemed to him as though one of the soldiers near him hit him on the head\r
+with the full swing of a bludgeon. It hurt a little, but the worst of it\r
+was that the pain distracted him and prevented his seeing what he had\r
+been looking at.\r
+\r
+"What's this? Am I falling? My legs are giving way," thought he, and\r
+fell on his back. He opened his eyes, hoping to see how the struggle of\r
+the Frenchmen with the gunners ended, whether the red-haired gunner had\r
+been killed or not and whether the cannon had been captured or saved.\r
+But he saw nothing. Above him there was now nothing but the sky--the\r
+lofty sky, not clear yet still immeasurably lofty, with gray clouds\r
+gliding slowly across it. "How quiet, peaceful, and solemn; not at all\r
+as I ran," thought Prince Andrew--"not as we ran, shouting and fighting,\r
+not at all as the gunner and the Frenchman with frightened and angry\r
+faces struggled for the mop: how differently do those clouds glide\r
+across that lofty infinite sky! How was it I did not see that lofty sky\r
+before? And how happy I am to have found it at last! Yes! All is vanity,\r
+all falsehood, except that infinite sky. There is nothing, nothing, but\r
+that. But even it does not exist, there is nothing but quiet and peace.\r
+Thank God!..."\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVII\r
+\r
+On our right flank commanded by Bagration, at nine o'clock the battle\r
+had not yet begun. Not wishing to agree to Dolgorukov's demand to\r
+commence the action, and wishing to avert responsibility from himself,\r
+Prince Bagration proposed to Dolgorukov to send to inquire of the\r
+commander-in-chief. Bagration knew that as the distance between the two\r
+flanks was more than six miles, even if the messenger were not killed\r
+(which he very likely would be), and found the commander-in-chief (which\r
+would be very difficult), he would not be able to get back before\r
+evening.\r
+\r
+Bagration cast his large, expressionless, sleepy eyes round his suite,\r
+and the boyish face Rostov, breathless with excitement and hope, was the\r
+first to catch his eye. He sent him.\r
+\r
+"And if I should meet His Majesty before I meet the commander-in-chief,\r
+your excellency?" said Rostov, with his hand to his cap.\r
+\r
+"You can give the message to His Majesty," said Dolgorukov, hurriedly\r
+interrupting Bagration.\r
+\r
+On being relieved from picket duty Rostov had managed to get a few\r
+hours' sleep before morning and felt cheerful, bold, and resolute, with\r
+elasticity of movement, faith in his good fortune, and generally in that\r
+state of mind which makes everything seem possible, pleasant, and easy.\r
+\r
+All his wishes were being fulfilled that morning: there was to be a\r
+general engagement in which he was taking part, more than that, he was\r
+orderly to the bravest general, and still more, he was going with a\r
+message to Kutuzov, perhaps even to the sovereign himself. The morning\r
+was bright, he had a good horse under him, and his heart was full of joy\r
+and happiness. On receiving the order he gave his horse the rein and\r
+galloped along the line. At first he rode along the line of Bagration's\r
+troops, which had not yet advanced into action but were standing\r
+motionless; then he came to the region occupied by Uvarov's cavalry and\r
+here he noticed a stir and signs of preparation for battle; having\r
+passed Uvarov's cavalry he clearly heard the sound of cannon and\r
+musketry ahead of him. The firing grew louder and louder.\r
+\r
+In the fresh morning air were now heard, not two or three musket shots\r
+at irregular intervals as before, followed by one or two cannon shots,\r
+but a roll of volleys of musketry from the slopes of the hill before\r
+Pratzen, interrupted by such frequent reports of cannon that sometimes\r
+several of them were not separated from one another but merged into a\r
+general roar.\r
+\r
+He could see puffs of musketry smoke that seemed to chase one another\r
+down the hillsides, and clouds of cannon smoke rolling, spreading, and\r
+mingling with one another. He could also, by the gleam of bayonets\r
+visible through the smoke, make out moving masses of infantry and narrow\r
+lines of artillery with green caissons.\r
+\r
+Rostov stopped his horse for a moment on a hillock to see what was going\r
+on, but strain his attention as he would he could not understand or make\r
+out anything of what was happening: there in the smoke men of some sort\r
+were moving about, in front and behind moved lines of troops; but why,\r
+whither, and who they were, it was impossible to make out. These sights\r
+and sounds had no depressing or intimidating effect on him; on the\r
+contrary, they stimulated his energy and determination.\r
+\r
+"Go on! Go on! Give it them!" he mentally exclaimed at these sounds, and\r
+again proceeded to gallop along the line, penetrating farther and\r
+farther into the region where the army was already in action.\r
+\r
+"How it will be there I don't know, but all will be well!" thought\r
+Rostov.\r
+\r
+After passing some Austrian troops he noticed that the next part of the\r
+line (the Guards) was already in action.\r
+\r
+"So much the better! I shall see it close," he thought.\r
+\r
+He was riding almost along the front line. A handful of men came\r
+galloping toward him. They were our uhlans who with disordered ranks\r
+were returning from the attack. Rostov got out of their way,\r
+involuntarily noticed that one of them was bleeding, and galloped on.\r
+\r
+"That is no business of mine," he thought. He had not ridden many\r
+hundred yards after that before he saw to his left, across the whole\r
+width of the field, an enormous mass of cavalry in brilliant white\r
+uniforms, mounted on black horses, trotting straight toward him and\r
+across his path. Rostov put his horse to full gallop to get out of the\r
+way of these men, and he would have got clear had they continued at the\r
+same speed, but they kept increasing their pace, so that some of the\r
+horses were already galloping. Rostov heard the thud of their hoofs and\r
+the jingle of their weapons and saw their horses, their figures, and\r
+even their faces, more and more distinctly. They were our Horse Guards,\r
+advancing to attack the French cavalry that was coming to meet them.\r
+\r
+The Horse Guards were galloping, but still holding in their horses.\r
+Rostov could already see their faces and heard the command: "Charge!"\r
+shouted by an officer who was urging his thoroughbred to full speed.\r
+Rostov, fearing to be crushed or swept into the attack on the French,\r
+galloped along the front as hard as his horse could go, but still was\r
+not in time to avoid them.\r
+\r
+The last of the Horse Guards, a huge pockmarked fellow, frowned angrily\r
+on seeing Rostov before him, with whom he would inevitably collide. This\r
+Guardsman would certainly have bowled Rostov and his Bedouin over\r
+(Rostov felt himself quite tiny and weak compared to these gigantic men\r
+and horses) had it not occurred to Rostov to flourish his whip before\r
+the eyes of the Guardsman's horse. The heavy black horse, sixteen hands\r
+high, shied, throwing back its ears; but the pockmarked Guardsman drove\r
+his huge spurs in violently, and the horse, flourishing its tail and\r
+extending its neck, galloped on yet faster. Hardly had the Horse Guards\r
+passed Rostov before he heard them shout, "Hurrah!" and looking back saw\r
+that their foremost ranks were mixed up with some foreign cavalry with\r
+red epaulets, probably French. He could see nothing more, for\r
+immediately afterwards cannon began firing from somewhere and smoke\r
+enveloped everything.\r
+\r
+At that moment, as the Horse Guards, having passed him, disappeared in\r
+the smoke, Rostov hesitated whether to gallop after them or to go where\r
+he was sent. This was the brilliant charge of the Horse Guards that\r
+amazed the French themselves. Rostov was horrified to hear later that of\r
+all that mass of huge and handsome men, of all those brilliant, rich\r
+youths, officers and cadets, who had galloped past him on their\r
+thousand-ruble horses, only eighteen were left after the charge.\r
+\r
+"Why should I envy them? My chance is not lost, and maybe I shall see\r
+the Emperor immediately!" thought Rostov and galloped on.\r
+\r
+When he came level with the Foot Guards he noticed that about them and\r
+around them cannon balls were flying, of which he was aware not so much\r
+because he heard their sound as because he saw uneasiness on the\r
+soldiers' faces and unnatural warlike solemnity on those of the\r
+officers.\r
+\r
+Passing behind one of the lines of a regiment of Foot Guards he heard a\r
+voice calling him by name.\r
+\r
+"Rostov!"\r
+\r
+"What?" he answered, not recognizing Boris.\r
+\r
+"I say, we've been in the front line! Our regiment attacked!" said Boris\r
+with the happy smile seen on the faces of young men who have been under\r
+fire for the first time.\r
+\r
+Rostov stopped.\r
+\r
+"Have you?" he said. "Well, how did it go?"\r
+\r
+"We drove them back!" said Boris with animation, growing talkative. "Can\r
+you imagine it?" and he began describing how the Guards, having taken up\r
+their position and seeing troops before them, thought they were\r
+Austrians, and all at once discovered from the cannon balls discharged\r
+by those troops that they were themselves in the front line and had\r
+unexpectedly to go into action. Rostov without hearing Boris to the end\r
+spurred his horse.\r
+\r
+"Where are you off to?" asked Boris.\r
+\r
+"With a message to His Majesty."\r
+\r
+"There he is!" said Boris, thinking Rostov had said "His Highness," and\r
+pointing to the Grand Duke who with his high shoulders and frowning\r
+brows stood a hundred paces away from them in his helmet and Horse\r
+Guards' jacket, shouting something to a pale, white uniformed Austrian\r
+officer.\r
+\r
+"But that's the Grand Duke, and I want the commander-in-chief or the\r
+Emperor," said Rostov, and was about to spur his horse.\r
+\r
+"Count! Count!" shouted Berg who ran up from the other side as eager as\r
+Boris. "Count! I am wounded in my right hand" (and he showed his\r
+bleeding hand with a handkerchief tied round it) "and I remained at the\r
+front. I held my sword in my left hand, Count. All our family--the von\r
+Bergs--have been knights!"\r
+\r
+He said something more, but Rostov did not wait to hear it and rode\r
+away.\r
+\r
+Having passed the Guards and traversed an empty space, Rostov, to avoid\r
+again getting in front of the first line as he had done when the Horse\r
+Guards charged, followed the line of reserves, going far round the place\r
+where the hottest musket fire and cannonade were heard. Suddenly he\r
+heard musket fire quite close in front of him and behind our troops,\r
+where he could never have expected the enemy to be.\r
+\r
+"What can it be?" he thought. "The enemy in the rear of our army?\r
+Impossible!" And suddenly he was seized by a panic of fear for himself\r
+and for the issue of the whole battle. "But be that what it may," he\r
+reflected, "there is no riding round it now. I must look for the\r
+commander in chief here, and if all is lost it is for me to perish with\r
+the rest."\r
+\r
+The foreboding of evil that had suddenly come over Rostov was more and\r
+more confirmed the farther he rode into the region behind the village of\r
+Pratzen, which was full of troops of all kinds.\r
+\r
+"What does it mean? What is it? Whom are they firing at? Who is firing?"\r
+Rostov kept asking as he came up to Russian and Austrian soldiers\r
+running in confused crowds across his path.\r
+\r
+"The devil knows! They've killed everybody! It's all up now!" he was\r
+told in Russian, German, and Czech by the crowd of fugitives who\r
+understood what was happening as little as he did.\r
+\r
+"Kill the Germans!" shouted one.\r
+\r
+"May the devil take them--the traitors!"\r
+\r
+"Zum Henker diese Russen!" * muttered a German.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Hang these Russians!"\r
+\r
+Several wounded men passed along the road, and words of abuse, screams,\r
+and groans mingled in a general hubbub, then the firing died down.\r
+Rostov learned later that Russian and Austrian soldiers had been firing\r
+at one another.\r
+\r
+"My God! What does it all mean?" thought he. "And here, where at any\r
+moment the Emperor may see them.... But no, these must be only a handful\r
+of scoundrels. It will soon be over, it can't be that, it can't be! Only\r
+to get past them quicker, quicker!"\r
+\r
+The idea of defeat and flight could not enter Rostov's head. Though he\r
+saw French cannon and French troops on the Pratzen Heights just where he\r
+had been ordered to look for the commander-in-chief, he could not, did\r
+not wish to, believe that.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVIII\r
+\r
+Rostov had been ordered to look for Kutuzov and the Emperor near the\r
+village of Pratzen. But neither they nor a single commanding officer\r
+were there, only disorganized crowds of troops of various kinds. He\r
+urged on his already weary horse to get quickly past these crowds, but\r
+the farther he went the more disorganized they were. The highroad on\r
+which he had come out was thronged with caleches, carriages of all\r
+sorts, and Russian and Austrian soldiers of all arms, some wounded and\r
+some not. This whole mass droned and jostled in confusion under the\r
+dismal influence of cannon balls flying from the French batteries\r
+stationed on the Pratzen Heights.\r
+\r
+"Where is the Emperor? Where is Kutuzov?" Rostov kept asking everyone he\r
+could stop, but got no answer from anyone.\r
+\r
+At last seizing a soldier by his collar he forced him to answer.\r
+\r
+"Eh, brother! They've all bolted long ago!" said the soldier, laughing\r
+for some reason and shaking himself free.\r
+\r
+Having left that soldier who was evidently drunk, Rostov stopped the\r
+horse of a batman or groom of some important personage and began to\r
+question him. The man announced that the Tsar had been driven in a\r
+carriage at full speed about an hour before along that very road and\r
+that he was dangerously wounded.\r
+\r
+"It can't be!" said Rostov. "It must have been someone else."\r
+\r
+"I saw him myself," replied the man with a self-confident smile of\r
+derision. "I ought to know the Emperor by now, after the times I've seen\r
+him in Petersburg. I saw him just as I see you.... There he sat in the\r
+carriage as pale as anything. How they made the four black horses fly!\r
+Gracious me, they did rattle past! It's time I knew the Imperial horses\r
+and Ilya Ivanych. I don't think Ilya drives anyone except the Tsar!"\r
+\r
+Rostov let go of the horse and was about to ride on, when a wounded\r
+officer passing by addressed him:\r
+\r
+"Who is it you want?" he asked. "The commander-in-chief? He was killed\r
+by a cannon ball--struck in the breast before our regiment."\r
+\r
+"Not killed--wounded!" another officer corrected him.\r
+\r
+"Who? Kutuzov?" asked Rostov.\r
+\r
+"Not Kutuzov, but what's his name--well, never mind... there are not\r
+many left alive. Go that way, to that village, all the commanders are\r
+there," said the officer, pointing to the village of Hosjeradek, and he\r
+walked on.\r
+\r
+Rostov rode on at a footpace not knowing why or to whom he was now\r
+going. The Emperor was wounded, the battle lost. It was impossible to\r
+doubt it now. Rostov rode in the direction pointed out to him, in which\r
+he saw turrets and a church. What need to hurry? What was he now to say\r
+to the Tsar or to Kutuzov, even if they were alive and unwounded?\r
+\r
+"Take this road, your honor, that way you will be killed at once!" a\r
+soldier shouted to him. "They'd kill you there!"\r
+\r
+"Oh, what are you talking about?" said another. "Where is he to go? That\r
+way is nearer."\r
+\r
+Rostov considered, and then went in the direction where they said he\r
+would be killed.\r
+\r
+"It's all the same now. If the Emperor is wounded, am I to try to save\r
+myself?" he thought. He rode on to the region where the greatest number\r
+of men had perished in fleeing from Pratzen. The French had not yet\r
+occupied that region, and the Russians--the uninjured and slightly\r
+wounded--had left it long ago. All about the field, like heaps of manure\r
+on well-kept plowland, lay from ten to fifteen dead and wounded to each\r
+couple of acres. The wounded crept together in twos and threes and one\r
+could hear their distressing screams and groans, sometimes feigned--or\r
+so it seemed to Rostov. He put his horse to a trot to avoid seeing all\r
+these suffering men, and he felt afraid--afraid not for his life, but\r
+for the courage he needed and which he knew would not stand the sight of\r
+these unfortunates.\r
+\r
+The French, who had ceased firing at this field strewn with dead and\r
+wounded where there was no one left to fire at, on seeing an adjutant\r
+riding over it trained a gun on him and fired several shots. The\r
+sensation of those terrible whistling sounds and of the corpses around\r
+him merged in Rostov's mind into a single feeling of terror and pity for\r
+himself. He remembered his mother's last letter. "What would she feel,"\r
+thought he, "if she saw me here now on this field with the cannon aimed\r
+at me?"\r
+\r
+In the village of Hosjeradek there were Russian troops retiring from the\r
+field of battle, who though still in some confusion were less\r
+disordered. The French cannon did not reach there and the musketry fire\r
+sounded far away. Here everyone clearly saw and said that the battle was\r
+lost. No one whom Rostov asked could tell him where the Emperor or\r
+Kutuzov was. Some said the report that the Emperor was wounded was\r
+correct, others that it was not, and explained the false rumor that had\r
+spread by the fact that the Emperor's carriage had really galloped from\r
+the field of battle with the pale and terrified Ober-Hofmarschal Count\r
+Tolstoy, who had ridden out to the battlefield with others in the\r
+Emperor's suite. One officer told Rostov that he had seen someone from\r
+headquarters behind the village to the left, and thither Rostov rode,\r
+not hoping to find anyone but merely to ease his conscience. When he had\r
+ridden about two miles and had passed the last of the Russian troops, he\r
+saw, near a kitchen garden with a ditch round it, two men on horseback\r
+facing the ditch. One with a white plume in his hat seemed familiar to\r
+Rostov; the other on a beautiful chestnut horse (which Rostov fancied he\r
+had seen before) rode up to the ditch, struck his horse with his spurs,\r
+and giving it the rein leaped lightly over. Only a little earth crumbled\r
+from the bank under the horse's hind hoofs. Turning the horse sharply,\r
+he again jumped the ditch, and deferentially addressed the horseman with\r
+the white plumes, evidently suggesting that he should do the same. The\r
+rider, whose figure seemed familiar to Rostov and involuntarily riveted\r
+his attention, made a gesture of refusal with his head and hand and by\r
+that gesture Rostov instantly recognized his lamented and adored\r
+monarch.\r
+\r
+"But it can't be he, alone in the midst of this empty field!" thought\r
+Rostov. At that moment Alexander turned his head and Rostov saw the\r
+beloved features that were so deeply engraved on his memory. The Emperor\r
+was pale, his cheeks sunken and his eyes hollow, but the charm, the\r
+mildness of his features, was all the greater. Rostov was happy in the\r
+assurance that the rumors about the Emperor being wounded were false. He\r
+was happy to be seeing him. He knew that he might and even ought to go\r
+straight to him and give the message Dolgorukov had ordered him to\r
+deliver.\r
+\r
+But as a youth in love trembles, is unnerved, and dares not utter the\r
+thoughts he has dreamed of for nights, but looks around for help or a\r
+chance of delay and flight when the longed-for moment comes and he is\r
+alone with her, so Rostov, now that he had attained what he had longed\r
+for more than anything else in the world, did not know how to approach\r
+the Emperor, and a thousand reasons occurred to him why it would be\r
+inconvenient, unseemly, and impossible to do so.\r
+\r
+"What! It is as if I were glad of a chance to take advantage of his\r
+being alone and despondent! A strange face may seem unpleasant or\r
+painful to him at this moment of sorrow; besides, what can I say to him\r
+now, when my heart fails me and my mouth feels dry at the mere sight of\r
+him?" Not one of the innumerable speeches addressed to the Emperor that\r
+he had composed in his imagination could he now recall. Those speeches\r
+were intended for quite other conditions, they were for the most part to\r
+be spoken at a moment of victory and triumph, generally when he was\r
+dying of wounds and the sovereign had thanked him for heroic deeds, and\r
+while dying he expressed the love his actions had proved.\r
+\r
+"Besides how can I ask the Emperor for his instructions for the right\r
+flank now that it is nearly four o'clock and the battle is lost? No,\r
+certainly I must not approach him, I must not intrude on his\r
+reflections. Better die a thousand times than risk receiving an unkind\r
+look or bad opinion from him," Rostov decided; and sorrowfully and with\r
+a heart full despair he rode away, continually looking back at the Tsar,\r
+who still remained in the same attitude of indecision.\r
+\r
+While Rostov was thus arguing with himself and riding sadly away,\r
+Captain von Toll chanced to ride to the same spot, and seeing the\r
+Emperor at once rode up to him, offered his services, and assisted him\r
+to cross the ditch on foot. The Emperor, wishing to rest and feeling\r
+unwell, sat down under an apple tree and von Toll remained beside him.\r
+Rostov from a distance saw with envy and remorse how von Toll spoke long\r
+and warmly to the Emperor and how the Emperor, evidently weeping,\r
+covered his eyes with his hand and pressed von Toll's hand.\r
+\r
+"And I might have been in his place!" thought Rostov, and hardly\r
+restraining his tears of pity for the Emperor, he rode on in utter\r
+despair, not knowing where to or why he was now riding.\r
+\r
+His despair was all the greater from feeling that his own weakness was\r
+the cause of his grief.\r
+\r
+He might... not only might but should, have gone up to the sovereign. It\r
+was a unique chance to show his devotion to the Emperor and he had not\r
+made use of it.... "What have I done?" thought he. And he turned round\r
+and galloped back to the place where he had seen the Emperor, but there\r
+was no one beyond the ditch now. Only some carts and carriages were\r
+passing by. From one of the drivers he learned that Kutuzov's staff were\r
+not far off, in the village the vehicles were going to. Rostov followed\r
+them. In front of him walked Kutuzov's groom leading horses in\r
+horsecloths. Then came a cart, and behind that walked an old, bandy-\r
+legged domestic serf in a peaked cap and sheepskin coat.\r
+\r
+"Tit! I say, Tit!" said the groom.\r
+\r
+"What?" answered the old man absent-mindedly.\r
+\r
+"Go, Tit! Thresh a bit!"\r
+\r
+"Oh, you fool!" said the old man, spitting angrily. Some time passed in\r
+silence, and then the same joke was repeated.\r
+\r
+Before five in the evening the battle had been lost at all points. More\r
+than a hundred cannon were already in the hands of the French.\r
+\r
+Przebyszewski and his corps had laid down their arms. Other columns\r
+after losing half their men were retreating in disorderly confused\r
+masses.\r
+\r
+The remains of Langeron's and Dokhturov's mingled forces were crowding\r
+around the dams and banks of the ponds near the village of Augesd.\r
+\r
+After five o'clock it was only at the Augesd Dam that a hot cannonade\r
+(delivered by the French alone) was still to be heard from numerous\r
+batteries ranged on the slopes of the Pratzen Heights, directed at our\r
+retreating forces.\r
+\r
+In the rearguard, Dokhturov and others rallying some battalions kept up\r
+a musketry fire at the French cavalry that was pursuing our troops. It\r
+was growing dusk. On the narrow Augesd Dam where for so many years the\r
+old miller had been accustomed to sit in his tasseled cap peacefully\r
+angling, while his grandson, with shirt sleeves rolled up, handled the\r
+floundering silvery fish in the watering can, on that dam over which for\r
+so many years Moravians in shaggy caps and blue jackets had peacefully\r
+driven their two-horse carts loaded with wheat and had returned dusty\r
+with flour whitening their carts--on that narrow dam amid the wagons and\r
+the cannon, under the horses' hoofs and between the wagon wheels, men\r
+disfigured by fear of death now crowded together, crushing one another,\r
+dying, stepping over the dying and killing one another, only to move on\r
+a few steps and be killed themselves in the same way.\r
+\r
+Every ten seconds a cannon ball flew compressing the air around, or a\r
+shell burst in the midst of that dense throng, killing some and\r
+splashing with blood those near them.\r
+\r
+Dolokhov--now an officer--wounded in the arm, and on foot, with the\r
+regimental commander on horseback and some ten men of his company,\r
+represented all that was left of that whole regiment. Impelled by the\r
+crowd, they had got wedged in at the approach to the dam and, jammed in\r
+on all sides, had stopped because a horse in front had fallen under a\r
+cannon and the crowd were dragging it out. A cannon ball killed someone\r
+behind them, another fell in front and splashed Dolokhov with blood. The\r
+crowd, pushing forward desperately, squeezed together, moved a few\r
+steps, and again stopped.\r
+\r
+"Move on a hundred yards and we are certainly saved, remain here another\r
+two minutes and it is certain death," thought each one.\r
+\r
+Dolokhov who was in the midst of the crowd forced his way to the edge of\r
+the dam, throwing two soldiers off their feet, and ran onto the slippery\r
+ice that covered the millpool.\r
+\r
+"Turn this way!" he shouted, jumping over the ice which creaked under\r
+him; "turn this way!" he shouted to those with the gun. "It bears!..."\r
+\r
+The ice bore him but it swayed and creaked, and it was plain that it\r
+would give way not only under a cannon or a crowd, but very soon even\r
+under his weight alone. The men looked at him and pressed to the bank,\r
+hesitating to step onto the ice. The general on horseback at the\r
+entrance to the dam raised his hand and opened his mouth to address\r
+Dolokhov. Suddenly a cannon ball hissed so low above the crowd that\r
+everyone ducked. It flopped into something moist, and the general fell\r
+from his horse in a pool of blood. Nobody gave him a look or thought of\r
+raising him.\r
+\r
+"Get onto the ice, over the ice! Go on! Turn! Don't you hear? Go on!"\r
+innumerable voices suddenly shouted after the ball had struck the\r
+general, the men themselves not knowing what, or why, they were\r
+shouting.\r
+\r
+One of the hindmost guns that was going onto the dam turned off onto the\r
+ice. Crowds of soldiers from the dam began running onto the frozen pond.\r
+The ice gave way under one of the foremost soldiers, and one leg slipped\r
+into the water. He tried to right himself but fell in up to his waist.\r
+The nearest soldiers shrank back, the gun driver stopped his horse, but\r
+from behind still came the shouts: "Onto the ice, why do you stop? Go\r
+on! Go on!" And cries of horror were heard in the crowd. The soldiers\r
+near the gun waved their arms and beat the horses to make them turn and\r
+move on. The horses moved off the bank. The ice, that had held under\r
+those on foot, collapsed in a great mass, and some forty men who were on\r
+it dashed, some forward and some back, drowning one another.\r
+\r
+Still the cannon balls continued regularly to whistle and flop onto the\r
+ice and into the water and oftenest of all among the crowd that covered\r
+the dam, the pond, and the bank.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIX\r
+\r
+On the Pratzen Heights, where he had fallen with the flagstaff in his\r
+hand, lay Prince Andrew Bolkonski bleeding profusely and unconsciously\r
+uttering a gentle, piteous, and childlike moan.\r
+\r
+Toward evening he ceased moaning and became quite still. He did not know\r
+how long his unconsciousness lasted. Suddenly he again felt that he was\r
+alive and suffering from a burning, lacerating pain in his head.\r
+\r
+"Where is it, that lofty sky that I did not know till now, but saw\r
+today?" was his first thought. "And I did not know this suffering\r
+either," he thought. "Yes, I did not know anything, anything at all till\r
+now. But where am I?"\r
+\r
+He listened and heard the sound of approaching horses, and voices\r
+speaking French. He opened his eyes. Above him again was the same lofty\r
+sky with clouds that had risen and were floating still higher, and\r
+between them gleamed blue infinity. He did not turn his head and did not\r
+see those who, judging by the sound of hoofs and voices, had ridden up\r
+and stopped near him.\r
+\r
+It was Napoleon accompanied by two aides-de-camp. Bonaparte riding over\r
+the battlefield had given final orders to strengthen the batteries\r
+firing at the Augesd Dam and was looking at the killed and wounded left\r
+on the field.\r
+\r
+"Fine men!" remarked Napoleon, looking at a dead Russian grenadier, who,\r
+with his face buried in the ground and a blackened nape, lay on his\r
+stomach with an already stiffened arm flung wide.\r
+\r
+"The ammunition for the guns in position is exhausted, Your Majesty,"\r
+said an adjutant who had come from the batteries that were firing at\r
+Augesd.\r
+\r
+"Have some brought from the reserve," said Napoleon, and having gone on\r
+a few steps he stopped before Prince Andrew, who lay on his back with\r
+the flagstaff that had been dropped beside him. (The flag had already\r
+been taken by the French as a trophy.)\r
+\r
+"That's a fine death!" said Napoleon as he gazed at Bolkonski.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew understood that this was said of him and that it was\r
+Napoleon who said it. He heard the speaker addressed as Sire. But he\r
+heard the words as he might have heard the buzzing of a fly. Not only\r
+did they not interest him, but he took no notice of them and at once\r
+forgot them. His head was burning, he felt himself bleeding to death,\r
+and he saw above him the remote, lofty, and everlasting sky. He knew it\r
+was Napoleon--his hero--but at that moment Napoleon seemed to him such a\r
+small, insignificant creature compared with what was passing now between\r
+himself and that lofty infinite sky with the clouds flying over it. At\r
+that moment it meant nothing to him who might be standing over him, or\r
+what was said of him; he was only glad that people were standing near\r
+him and only wished that they would help him and bring him back to life,\r
+which seemed to him so beautiful now that he had today learned to\r
+understand it so differently. He collected all his strength, to stir and\r
+utter a sound. He feebly moved his leg and uttered a weak, sickly groan\r
+which aroused his own pity.\r
+\r
+"Ah! He is alive," said Napoleon. "Lift this young man up and carry him\r
+to the dressing station."\r
+\r
+Having said this, Napoleon rode on to meet Marshal Lannes, who, hat in\r
+hand, rode up smiling to the Emperor to congratulate him on the victory.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew remembered nothing more: he lost consciousness from the\r
+terrible pain of being lifted onto the stretcher, the jolting while\r
+being moved, and the probing of his wound at the dressing station. He\r
+did not regain consciousness till late in the day, when with other\r
+wounded and captured Russian officers he was carried to the hospital.\r
+During this transfer he felt a little stronger and was able to look\r
+about him and even speak.\r
+\r
+The first words he heard on coming to his senses were those of a French\r
+convoy officer, who said rapidly: "We must halt here: the Emperor will\r
+pass here immediately; it will please him to see these gentlemen\r
+prisoners."\r
+\r
+"There are so many prisoners today, nearly the whole Russian army, that\r
+he is probably tired of them," said another officer.\r
+\r
+"All the same! They say this one is the commander of all the Emperor\r
+Alexander's Guards," said the first one, indicating a Russian officer in\r
+the white uniform of the Horse Guards.\r
+\r
+Bolkonski recognized Prince Repnin whom he had met in Petersburg\r
+society. Beside him stood a lad of nineteen, also a wounded officer of\r
+the Horse Guards.\r
+\r
+Bonaparte, having come up at a gallop, stopped his horse.\r
+\r
+"Which is the senior?" he asked, on seeing the prisoners.\r
+\r
+They named the colonel, Prince Repnin.\r
+\r
+"You are the commander of the Emperor Alexander's regiment of Horse\r
+Guards?" asked Napoleon.\r
+\r
+"I commanded a squadron," replied Repnin.\r
+\r
+"Your regiment fulfilled its duty honorably," said Napoleon.\r
+\r
+"The praise of a great commander is a soldier's highest reward," said\r
+Repnin.\r
+\r
+"I bestow it with pleasure," said Napoleon. "And who is that young man\r
+beside you?"\r
+\r
+Prince Repnin named Lieutenant Sukhtelen.\r
+\r
+After looking at him Napoleon smiled.\r
+\r
+"He's very young to come to meddle with us."\r
+\r
+"Youth is no hindrance to courage," muttered Sukhtelen in a failing\r
+voice.\r
+\r
+"A splendid reply!" said Napoleon. "Young man, you will go far!"\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew, who had also been brought forward before the Emperor's\r
+eyes to complete the show of prisoners, could not fail to attract his\r
+attention. Napoleon apparently remembered seeing him on the battlefield\r
+and, addressing him, again used the epithet "young man" that was\r
+connected in his memory with Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+"Well, and you, young man," said he. "How do you feel, mon brave?"\r
+\r
+Though five minutes before, Prince Andrew had been able to say a few\r
+words to the soldiers who were carrying him, now with his eyes fixed\r
+straight on Napoleon, he was silent.... So insignificant at that moment\r
+seemed to him all the interests that engrossed Napoleon, so mean did his\r
+hero himself with his paltry vanity and joy in victory appear, compared\r
+to the lofty, equitable, and kindly sky which he had seen and\r
+understood, that he could not answer him.\r
+\r
+Everything seemed so futile and insignificant in comparison with the\r
+stern and solemn train of thought that weakness from loss of blood,\r
+suffering, and the nearness of death aroused in him. Looking into\r
+Napoleon's eyes Prince Andrew thought of the insignificance of\r
+greatness, the unimportance of life which no one could understand, and\r
+the still greater unimportance of death, the meaning of which no one\r
+alive could understand or explain.\r
+\r
+The Emperor without waiting for an answer turned away and said to one of\r
+the officers as he went: "Have these gentlemen attended to and taken to\r
+my bivouac; let my doctor, Larrey, examine their wounds. Au revoir,\r
+Prince Repnin!" and he spurred his horse and galloped away.\r
+\r
+His face shone with self-satisfaction and pleasure.\r
+\r
+The soldiers who had carried Prince Andrew had noticed and taken the\r
+little gold icon Princess Mary had hung round her brother's neck, but\r
+seeing the favor the Emperor showed the prisoners, they now hastened to\r
+return the holy image.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew did not see how and by whom it was replaced, but the\r
+little icon with its thin gold chain suddenly appeared upon his chest\r
+outside his uniform.\r
+\r
+"It would be good," thought Prince Andrew, glancing at the icon his\r
+sister had hung round his neck with such emotion and reverence, "it\r
+would be good if everything were as clear and simple as it seems to\r
+Mary. How good it would be to know where to seek for help in this life,\r
+and what to expect after it beyond the grave! How happy and calm I\r
+should be if I could now say: 'Lord, have mercy on me!'... But to whom\r
+should I say that? Either to a Power indefinable, incomprehensible,\r
+which I not only cannot address but which I cannot even express in\r
+words--the Great All or Nothing-" said he to himself, "or to that God\r
+who has been sewn into this amulet by Mary! There is nothing certain,\r
+nothing at all except the unimportance of everything I understand, and\r
+the greatness of something incomprehensible but all-important."\r
+\r
+The stretchers moved on. At every jolt he again felt unendurable pain;\r
+his feverishness increased and he grew delirious. Visions of his father,\r
+wife, sister, and future son, and the tenderness he had felt the night\r
+before the battle, the figure of the insignificant little Napoleon, and\r
+above all this the lofty sky, formed the chief subjects of his delirious\r
+fancies.\r
+\r
+The quiet home life and peaceful happiness of Bald Hills presented\r
+itself to him. He was already enjoying that happiness when that little\r
+Napoleon had suddenly appeared with his unsympathizing look of\r
+shortsighted delight at the misery of others, and doubts and torments\r
+had followed, and only the heavens promised peace. Toward morning all\r
+these dreams melted and merged into the chaos and darkness of\r
+unconciousness and oblivion which in the opinion of Napoleon's doctor,\r
+Larrey, was much more likely to end in death than in convalescence.\r
+\r
+"He is a nervous, bilious subject," said Larrey, "and will not recover."\r
+\r
+And Prince Andrew, with others fatally wounded, was left to the care of\r
+the inhabitants of the district.\r
+\r
+BOOK FOUR: 1806\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+Early in the year 1806 Nicholas Rostov returned home on leave. Denisov\r
+was going home to Voronezh and Rostov persuaded him to travel with him\r
+as far as Moscow and to stay with him there. Meeting a comrade at the\r
+last post station but one before Moscow, Denisov had drunk three bottles\r
+of wine with him and, despite the jolting ruts across the snow-covered\r
+road, did not once wake up on the way to Moscow, but lay at the bottom\r
+of the sleigh beside Rostov, who grew more and more impatient the nearer\r
+they got to Moscow.\r
+\r
+"How much longer? How much longer? Oh, these insufferable streets,\r
+shops, bakers' signboards, street lamps, and sleighs!" thought Rostov,\r
+when their leave permits had been passed at the town gate and they had\r
+entered Moscow.\r
+\r
+"Denisov! We're here! He's asleep," he added, leaning forward with his\r
+whole body as if in that position he hoped to hasten the speed of the\r
+sleigh.\r
+\r
+Denisov gave no answer.\r
+\r
+"There's the corner at the crossroads, where the cabman, Zakhar, has his\r
+stand, and there's Zakhar himself and still the same horse! And here's\r
+the little shop where we used to buy gingerbread! Can't you hurry up?\r
+Now then!"\r
+\r
+"Which house is it?" asked the driver.\r
+\r
+"Why, that one, right at the end, the big one. Don't you see? That's our\r
+house," said Rostov. "Of course, it's our house! Denisov, Denisov! We're\r
+almost there!"\r
+\r
+Denisov raised his head, coughed, and made no answer.\r
+\r
+"Dmitri," said Rostov to his valet on the box, "those lights are in our\r
+house, aren't they?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, sir, and there's a light in your father's study."\r
+\r
+"Then they've not gone to bed yet? What do you think? Mind now, don't\r
+forget to put out my new coat," added Rostov, fingering his new\r
+mustache. "Now then, get on," he shouted to the driver. "Do wake up,\r
+Vaska!" he went on, turning to Denisov, whose head was again nodding.\r
+"Come, get on! You shall have three rubles for vodka--get on!" Rostov\r
+shouted, when the sleigh was only three houses from his door. It seemed\r
+to him the horses were not moving at all. At last the sleigh bore to the\r
+right, drew up at an entrance, and Rostov saw overhead the old familiar\r
+cornice with a bit of plaster broken off, the porch, and the post by the\r
+side of the pavement. He sprang out before the sleigh stopped, and ran\r
+into the hall. The house stood cold and silent, as if quite regardless\r
+of who had come to it. There was no one in the hall. "Oh God! Is\r
+everyone all right?" he thought, stopping for a moment with a sinking\r
+heart, and then immediately starting to run along the hall and up the\r
+warped steps of the familiar staircase. The well-known old door handle,\r
+which always angered the countess when it was not properly cleaned,\r
+turned as loosely as ever. A solitary tallow candle burned in the\r
+anteroom.\r
+\r
+Old Michael was asleep on the chest. Prokofy, the footman, who was so\r
+strong that he could lift the back of the carriage from behind, sat\r
+plaiting slippers out of cloth selvedges. He looked up at the opening\r
+door and his expression of sleepy indifference suddenly changed to one\r
+of delighted amazement.\r
+\r
+"Gracious heavens! The young count!" he cried, recognizing his young\r
+master. "Can it be? My treasure!" and Prokofy, trembling with\r
+excitement, rushed toward the drawing-room door, probably in order to\r
+announce him, but, changing his mind, came back and stooped to kiss the\r
+young man's shoulder.\r
+\r
+"All well?" asked Rostov, drawing away his arm.\r
+\r
+"Yes, God be thanked! Yes! They've just finished supper. Let me have a\r
+look at you, your excellency."\r
+\r
+"Is everything quite all right?"\r
+\r
+"The Lord be thanked, yes!"\r
+\r
+Rostov, who had completely forgotten Denisov, not wishing anyone to\r
+forestall him, threw off his fur coat and ran on tiptoe through the\r
+large dark ballroom. All was the same: there were the same old card\r
+tables and the same chandelier with a cover over it; but someone had\r
+already seen the young master, and, before he had reached the drawing\r
+room, something flew out from a side door like a tornado and began\r
+hugging and kissing him. Another and yet another creature of the same\r
+kind sprang from a second door and a third; more hugging, more kissing,\r
+more outcries, and tears of joy. He could not distinguish which was\r
+Papa, which Natasha, and which Petya. Everyone shouted, talked, and\r
+kissed him at the same time. Only his mother was not there, he noticed\r
+that.\r
+\r
+"And I did not know... Nicholas... My darling!..."\r
+\r
+"Here he is... our own... Kolya, * dear fellow... How he has changed!...\r
+Where are the candles?... Tea!..."\r
+\r
+\r
+* Nicholas.\r
+\r
+"And me, kiss me!"\r
+\r
+"Dearest... and me!"\r
+\r
+Sonya, Natasha, Petya, Anna Mikhaylovna, Vera, and the old count were\r
+all hugging him, and the serfs, men and maids, flocked into the room,\r
+exclaiming and oh-ing and ah-ing.\r
+\r
+Petya, clinging to his legs, kept shouting, "And me too!"\r
+\r
+Natasha, after she had pulled him down toward her and covered his face\r
+with kisses, holding him tight by the skirt of his coat, sprang away and\r
+pranced up and down in one place like a goat and shrieked piercingly.\r
+\r
+All around were loving eyes glistening with tears of joy, and all around\r
+were lips seeking a kiss.\r
+\r
+Sonya too, all rosy red, clung to his arm and, radiant with bliss,\r
+looked eagerly toward his eyes, waiting for the look for which she\r
+longed. Sonya now was sixteen and she was very pretty, especially at\r
+this moment of happy, rapturous excitement. She gazed at him, not taking\r
+her eyes off him, and smiling and holding her breath. He gave her a\r
+grateful look, but was still expectant and looking for someone. The old\r
+countess had not yet come. But now steps were heard at the door, steps\r
+so rapid that they could hardly be his mother's.\r
+\r
+Yet it was she, dressed in a new gown which he did not know, made since\r
+he had left. All the others let him go, and he ran to her. When they\r
+met, she fell on his breast, sobbing. She could not lift her face, but\r
+only pressed it to the cold braiding of his hussar's jacket. Denisov,\r
+who had come into the room unnoticed by anyone, stood there and wiped\r
+his eyes at the sight.\r
+\r
+"Vasili Denisov, your son's friend," he said, introducing himself to the\r
+count, who was looking inquiringly at him.\r
+\r
+"You are most welcome! I know, I know," said the count, kissing and\r
+embracing Denisov. "Nicholas wrote us... Natasha, Vera, look! Here is\r
+Denisov!"\r
+\r
+The same happy, rapturous faces turned to the shaggy figure of Denisov.\r
+\r
+"Darling Denisov!" screamed Natasha, beside herself with rapture,\r
+springing to him, putting her arms round him, and kissing him. This\r
+escapade made everybody feel confused. Denisov blushed too, but smiled\r
+and, taking Natasha's hand, kissed it.\r
+\r
+Denisov was shown to the room prepared for him, and the Rostovs all\r
+gathered round Nicholas in the sitting room.\r
+\r
+The old countess, not letting go of his hand and kissing it every\r
+moment, sat beside him: the rest, crowding round him, watched every\r
+movement, word, or look of his, never taking their blissfully adoring\r
+eyes off him. His brother and sisters struggled for the places nearest\r
+to him and disputed with one another who should bring him his tea,\r
+handkerchief, and pipe.\r
+\r
+Rostov was very happy in the love they showed him; but the first moment\r
+of meeting had been so beatific that his present joy seemed\r
+insufficient, and he kept expecting something more, more and yet more.\r
+\r
+Next morning, after the fatigues of their journey, the travelers slept\r
+till ten o'clock.\r
+\r
+In the room next their bedroom there was a confusion of sabers,\r
+satchels, sabretaches, open portmanteaus, and dirty boots. Two freshly\r
+cleaned pairs with spurs had just been placed by the wall. The servants\r
+were bringing in jugs and basins, hot water for shaving, and their well-\r
+brushed clothes. There was a masculine odor and a smell of tobacco.\r
+\r
+"Hallo, Gwiska--my pipe!" came Vasili Denisov's husky voice. "Wostov,\r
+get up!"\r
+\r
+Rostov, rubbing his eyes that seemed glued together, raised his\r
+disheveled head from the hot pillow.\r
+\r
+"Why, is it late?"\r
+\r
+"Late! It's nearly ten o'clock," answered Natasha's voice. A rustle of\r
+starched petticoats and the whispering and laughter of girls' voices\r
+came from the adjoining room. The door was opened a crack and there was\r
+a glimpse of something blue, of ribbons, black hair, and merry faces. It\r
+was Natasha, Sonya, and Petya, who had come to see whether they were\r
+getting up.\r
+\r
+"Nicholas! Get up!" Natasha's voice was again heard at the door.\r
+\r
+"Directly!"\r
+\r
+Meanwhile, Petya, having found and seized the sabers in the outer room,\r
+with the delight boys feel at the sight of a military elder brother, and\r
+forgetting that it was unbecoming for the girls to see men undressed,\r
+opened the bedroom door.\r
+\r
+"Is this your saber?" he shouted.\r
+\r
+The girls sprang aside. Denisov hid his hairy legs under the blanket,\r
+looking with a scared face at his comrade for help. The door, having let\r
+Petya in, closed again. A sound of laughter came from behind it.\r
+\r
+"Nicholas! Come out in your dressing gown!" said Natasha's voice.\r
+\r
+"Is this your saber?" asked Petya. "Or is it yours?" he said, addressing\r
+the black-mustached Denisov with servile deference.\r
+\r
+Rostov hurriedly put something on his feet, drew on his dressing gown,\r
+and went out. Natasha had put on one spurred boot and was just getting\r
+her foot into the other. Sonya, when he came in, was twirling round and\r
+was about to expand her dresses into a balloon and sit down. They were\r
+dressed alike, in new pale-blue frocks, and were both fresh, rosy, and\r
+bright. Sonya ran away, but Natasha, taking her brother's arm, led him\r
+into the sitting room, where they began talking. They hardly gave one\r
+another time to ask questions and give replies concerning a thousand\r
+little matters which could not interest anyone but themselves. Natasha\r
+laughed at every word he said or that she said herself, not because what\r
+they were saying was amusing, but because she felt happy and was unable\r
+to control her joy which expressed itself by laughter.\r
+\r
+"Oh, how nice, how splendid!" she said to everything.\r
+\r
+Rostov felt that, under the influence of the warm rays of love, that\r
+childlike smile which had not once appeared on his face since he left\r
+home now for the first time after eighteen months again brightened his\r
+soul and his face.\r
+\r
+"No, but listen," she said, "now you are quite a man, aren't you? I'm\r
+awfully glad you're my brother." She touched his mustache. "I want to\r
+know what you men are like. Are you the same as we? No?"\r
+\r
+"Why did Sonya run away?" asked Rostov.\r
+\r
+"Ah, yes! That's a whole long story! How are you going to speak to her--\r
+thou or you?"\r
+\r
+"As may happen," said Rostov.\r
+\r
+"No, call her you, please! I'll tell you all about it some other time.\r
+No, I'll tell you now. You know Sonya's my dearest friend. Such a friend\r
+that I burned my arm for her sake. Look here!"\r
+\r
+She pulled up her muslin sleeve and showed him a red scar on her long,\r
+slender, delicate arm, high above the elbow on that part that is covered\r
+even by a ball dress.\r
+\r
+"I burned this to prove my love for her. I just heated a ruler in the\r
+fire and pressed it there!"\r
+\r
+Sitting on the sofa with the little cushions on its arms, in what used\r
+to be his old schoolroom, and looking into Natasha's wildly bright eyes,\r
+Rostov re-entered that world of home and childhood which had no meaning\r
+for anyone else, but gave him some of the best joys of his life; and the\r
+burning of an arm with a ruler as a proof of love did not seem to him\r
+senseless, he understood and was not surprised at it.\r
+\r
+"Well, and is that all?" he asked.\r
+\r
+"We are such friends, such friends! All that ruler business was just\r
+nonsense, but we are friends forever. She, if she loves anyone, does it\r
+for life, but I don't understand that, I forget quickly."\r
+\r
+"Well, what then?"\r
+\r
+"Well, she loves me and you like that."\r
+\r
+Natasha suddenly flushed.\r
+\r
+"Why, you remember before you went away?... Well, she says you are to\r
+forget all that.... She says: 'I shall love him always, but let him be\r
+free.' Isn't that lovely and noble! Yes, very noble? Isn't it?" asked\r
+Natasha, so seriously and excitedly that it was evident that what she\r
+was now saying she had talked of before, with tears.\r
+\r
+Rostov became thoughtful.\r
+\r
+"I never go back on my word," he said. "Besides, Sonya is so charming\r
+that only a fool would renounce such happiness."\r
+\r
+"No, no!" cried Natasha, "she and I have already talked it over. We knew\r
+you'd say so. But it won't do, because you see, if you say that--if you\r
+consider yourself bound by your promise--it will seem as if she had not\r
+meant it seriously. It makes it as if you were marrying her because you\r
+must, and that wouldn't do at all."\r
+\r
+Rostov saw that it had been well considered by them. Sonya had already\r
+struck him by her beauty on the preceding day. Today, when he had caught\r
+a glimpse of her, she seemed still more lovely. She was a charming girl\r
+of sixteen, evidently passionately in love with him (he did not doubt\r
+that for an instant). Why should he not love her now, and even marry\r
+her, Rostov thought, but just now there were so many other pleasures and\r
+interests before him! "Yes, they have taken a wise decision," he\r
+thought, "I must remain free."\r
+\r
+"Well then, that's excellent," said he. "We'll talk it over later on.\r
+Oh, how glad I am to have you!"\r
+\r
+"Well, and are you still true to Boris?" he continued.\r
+\r
+"Oh, what nonsense!" cried Natasha, laughing. "I don't think about him\r
+or anyone else, and I don't want anything of the kind."\r
+\r
+"Dear me! Then what are you up to now?"\r
+\r
+"Now?" repeated Natasha, and a happy smile lit up her face. "Have you\r
+seen Duport?"\r
+\r
+"No."\r
+\r
+"Not seen Duport--the famous dancer? Well then, you won't understand.\r
+That's what I'm up to."\r
+\r
+Curving her arms, Natasha held out her skirts as dancers do, ran back a\r
+few steps, turned, cut a caper, brought her little feet sharply\r
+together, and made some steps on the very tips of her toes.\r
+\r
+"See, I'm standing! See!" she said, but could not maintain herself on\r
+her toes any longer. "So that's what I'm up to! I'll never marry anyone,\r
+but will be a dancer. Only don't tell anyone."\r
+\r
+Rostov laughed so loud and merrily that Denisov, in his bedroom, felt\r
+envious and Natasha could not help joining in.\r
+\r
+"No, but don't you think it's nice?" she kept repeating.\r
+\r
+"Nice! And so you no longer wish to marry Boris?"\r
+\r
+Natasha flared up. "I don't want to marry anyone. And I'll tell him so\r
+when I see him!"\r
+\r
+"Dear me!" said Rostov.\r
+\r
+"But that's all rubbish," Natasha chattered on. "And is Denisov nice?"\r
+she asked.\r
+\r
+"Yes, indeed!"\r
+\r
+"Oh, well then, good-by: go and dress. Is he very terrible, Denisov?"\r
+\r
+"Why terrible?" asked Nicholas. "No, Vaska is a splendid fellow."\r
+\r
+"You call him Vaska? That's funny! And is he very nice?"\r
+\r
+"Very."\r
+\r
+"Well then, be quick. We'll all have breakfast together."\r
+\r
+And Natasha rose and went out of the room on tiptoe, like a ballet\r
+dancer, but smiling as only happy girls of fifteen can smile. When\r
+Rostov met Sonya in the drawing room, he reddened. He did not know how\r
+to behave with her. The evening before, in the first happy moment of\r
+meeting, they had kissed each other, but today they felt it could not be\r
+done; he felt that everybody, including his mother and sisters, was\r
+looking inquiringly at him and watching to see how he would behave with\r
+her. He kissed her hand and addressed her not as thou but as you--Sonya.\r
+But their eyes met and said thou, and exchanged tender kisses. Her looks\r
+asked him to forgive her for having dared, by Natasha's intermediacy, to\r
+remind him of his promise, and then thanked him for his love. His looks\r
+thanked her for offering him his freedom and told her that one way or\r
+another he would never cease to love her, for that would be impossible.\r
+\r
+"How strange it is," said Vera, selecting a moment when all were silent,\r
+"that Sonya and Nicholas now say you to one another and meet like\r
+strangers."\r
+\r
+Vera's remark was correct, as her remarks always were, but, like most of\r
+her observations, it made everyone feel uncomfortable, not only Sonya,\r
+Nicholas, and Natasha, but even the old countess, who--dreading this\r
+love affair which might hinder Nicholas from making a brilliant match--\r
+blushed like a girl.\r
+\r
+Denisov, to Rostov's surprise, appeared in the drawing room with pomaded\r
+hair, perfumed, and in a new uniform, looking just as smart as he made\r
+himself when going into battle, and he was more amiable to the ladies\r
+and gentlemen than Rostov had ever expected to see him.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+On his return to Moscow from the army, Nicholas Rostov was welcomed by\r
+his home circle as the best of sons, a hero, and their darling\r
+Nikolenka; by his relations as a charming, attractive, and polite young\r
+man; by his acquaintances as a handsome lieutenant of hussars, a good\r
+dancer, and one of the best matches in the city.\r
+\r
+The Rostovs knew everybody in Moscow. The old count had money enough\r
+that year, as all his estates had been remortgaged, and so Nicholas,\r
+acquiring a trotter of his own, very stylish riding breeches of the\r
+latest cut, such as no one else yet had in Moscow, and boots of the\r
+latest fashion, with extremely pointed toes and small silver spurs,\r
+passed his time very gaily. After a short period of adapting himself to\r
+the old conditions of life, Nicholas found it very pleasant to be at\r
+home again. He felt that he had grown up and matured very much. His\r
+despair at failing in a Scripture examination, his borrowing money from\r
+Gavril to pay a sleigh driver, his kissing Sonya on the sly--he now\r
+recalled all this as childishness he had left immeasurably behind. Now\r
+he was a lieutenant of hussars, in a jacket laced with silver, and\r
+wearing the Cross of St. George, awarded to soldiers for bravery in\r
+action, and in the company of well-known, elderly, and respected racing\r
+men was training a trotter of his own for a race. He knew a lady on one\r
+of the boulevards whom he visited of an evening. He led the mazurka at\r
+the Arkharovs' ball, talked about the war with Field Marshal Kamenski,\r
+visited the English Club, and was on intimate terms with a colonel of\r
+forty to whom Denisov had introduced him.\r
+\r
+His passion for the Emperor had cooled somewhat in Moscow. But still, as\r
+he did not see him and had no opportunity of seeing him, he often spoke\r
+about him and about his love for him, letting it be understood that he\r
+had not told all and that there was something in his feelings for the\r
+Emperor not everyone could understand, and with his whole soul he shared\r
+the adoration then common in Moscow for the Emperor, who was spoken of\r
+as the "angel incarnate."\r
+\r
+During Rostov's short stay in Moscow, before rejoining the army, he did\r
+not draw closer to Sonya, but rather drifted away from her. She was very\r
+pretty and sweet, and evidently deeply in love with him, but he was at\r
+the period of youth when there seems so much to do that there is no time\r
+for that sort of thing and a young man fears to bind himself and prizes\r
+his freedom which he needs for so many other things. When he thought of\r
+Sonya, during this stay in Moscow, he said to himself, "Ah, there will\r
+be, and there are, many more such girls somewhere whom I do not yet\r
+know. There will be time enough to think about love when I want to, but\r
+now I have no time." Besides, it seemed to him that the society of women\r
+was rather derogatory to his manhood. He went to balls and into ladies'\r
+society with an affectation of doing so against his will. The races, the\r
+English Club, sprees with Denisov, and visits to a certain house--that\r
+was another matter and quite the thing for a dashing young hussar!\r
+\r
+At the beginning of March, old Count Ilya Rostov was very busy arranging\r
+a dinner in honor of Prince Bagration at the English Club.\r
+\r
+The count walked up and down the hall in his dressing gown, giving\r
+orders to the club steward and to the famous Feoktist, the club's head\r
+cook, about asparagus, fresh cucumbers, strawberries, veal, and fish for\r
+this dinner. The count had been a member and on the committee of the\r
+club from the day it was founded. To him the club entrusted the\r
+arrangement of the festival in honor of Bagration, for few men knew so\r
+well how to arrange a feast on an open-handed, hospitable scale, and\r
+still fewer men would be so well able and willing to make up out of\r
+their own resources what might be needed for the success of the fete.\r
+The club cook and the steward listened to the count's orders with\r
+pleased faces, for they knew that under no other management could they\r
+so easily extract a good profit for themselves from a dinner costing\r
+several thousand rubles.\r
+\r
+"Well then, mind and have cocks' comb in the turtle soup, you know!"\r
+\r
+"Shall we have three cold dishes then?" asked the cook.\r
+\r
+The count considered.\r
+\r
+"We can't have less--yes, three... the mayonnaise, that's one," said he,\r
+bending down a finger.\r
+\r
+"Then am I to order those large sterlets?" asked the steward.\r
+\r
+"Yes, it can't be helped if they won't take less. Ah, dear me! I was\r
+forgetting. We must have another entree. Ah, goodness gracious!" he\r
+clutched at his head. "Who is going to get me the flowers? Dmitri! Eh,\r
+Dmitri! Gallop off to our Moscow estate," he said to the factotum who\r
+appeared at his call. "Hurry off and tell Maksim, the gardener, to set\r
+the serfs to work. Say that everything out of the hothouses must be\r
+brought here well wrapped up in felt. I must have two hundred pots here\r
+on Friday."\r
+\r
+Having given several more orders, he was about to go to his "little\r
+countess" to have a rest, but remembering something else of importance,\r
+he returned again, called back the cook and the club steward, and again\r
+began giving orders. A light footstep and the clinking of spurs were\r
+heard at the door, and the young count, handsome, rosy, with a dark\r
+little mustache, evidently rested and made sleeker by his easy life in\r
+Moscow, entered the room.\r
+\r
+"Ah, my boy, my head's in a whirl!" said the old man with a smile, as if\r
+he felt a little confused before his son. "Now, if you would only help a\r
+bit! I must have singers too. I shall have my own orchestra, but\r
+shouldn't we get the gypsy singers as well? You military men like that\r
+sort of thing."\r
+\r
+"Really, Papa, I believe Prince Bagration worried himself less before\r
+the battle of Schon Grabern than you do now," said his son with a smile.\r
+\r
+The old count pretended to be angry.\r
+\r
+"Yes, you talk, but try it yourself!"\r
+\r
+And the count turned to the cook, who, with a shrewd and respectful\r
+expression, looked observantly and sympathetically at the father and\r
+son.\r
+\r
+"What have the young people come to nowadays, eh, Feoktist?" said he.\r
+"Laughing at us old fellows!"\r
+\r
+"That's so, your excellency, all they have to do is to eat a good\r
+dinner, but providing it and serving it all up, that's not their\r
+business!"\r
+\r
+"That's it, that's it!" exclaimed the count, and gaily seizing his son\r
+by both hands, he cried, "Now I've got you, so take the sleigh and pair\r
+at once, and go to Bezukhov's, and tell him 'Count Ilya has sent you to\r
+ask for strawberries and fresh pineapples.' We can't get them from\r
+anyone else. He's not there himself, so you'll have to go in and ask the\r
+princesses; and from there go on to the Rasgulyay--the coachman Ipatka\r
+knows--and look up the gypsy Ilyushka, the one who danced at Count\r
+Orlov's, you remember, in a white Cossack coat, and bring him along to\r
+me."\r
+\r
+"And am I to bring the gypsy girls along with him?" asked Nicholas,\r
+laughing. "Dear, dear!..."\r
+\r
+At that moment, with noiseless footsteps and with the businesslike,\r
+preoccupied, yet meekly Christian look which never left her face, Anna\r
+Mikhaylovna entered the hall. Though she came upon the count in his\r
+dressing gown every day, he invariably became confused and begged her to\r
+excuse his costume.\r
+\r
+"No matter at all, my dear count," she said, meekly closing her eyes.\r
+"But I'll go to Bezukhov's myself. Pierre has arrived, and now we shall\r
+get anything we want from his hothouses. I have to see him in any case.\r
+He has forwarded me a letter from Boris. Thank God, Boris is now on the\r
+staff."\r
+\r
+The count was delighted at Anna Mikhaylovna's taking upon herself one of\r
+his commissions and ordered the small closed carriage for her.\r
+\r
+"Tell Bezukhov to come. I'll put his name down. Is his wife with him?"\r
+he asked.\r
+\r
+Anna Mikhaylovna turned up her eyes, and profound sadness was depicted\r
+on her face.\r
+\r
+"Ah, my dear friend, he is very unfortunate," she said. "If what we hear\r
+is true, it is dreadful. How little we dreamed of such a thing when we\r
+were rejoicing at his happiness! And such a lofty angelic soul as young\r
+Bezukhov! Yes, I pity him from my heart, and shall try to give him what\r
+consolation I can."\r
+\r
+"Wh-what is the matter?" asked both the young and old Rostov.\r
+\r
+Anna Mikhaylovna sighed deeply.\r
+\r
+"Dolokhov, Mary Ivanovna's son," she said in a mysterious whisper, "has\r
+compromised her completely, they say. Pierre took him up, invited him to\r
+his house in Petersburg, and now... she has come here and that daredevil\r
+after her!" said Anna Mikhaylovna, wishing to show her sympathy for\r
+Pierre, but by involuntary intonations and a half smile betraying her\r
+sympathy for the "daredevil," as she called Dolokhov. "They say Pierre\r
+is quite broken by his misfortune."\r
+\r
+"Dear, dear! But still tell him to come to the club--it will all blow\r
+over. It will be a tremendous banquet."\r
+\r
+Next day, the third of March, soon after one o'clock, two hundred and\r
+fifty members of the English Club and fifty guests were awaiting the\r
+guest of honor and hero of the Austrian campaign, Prince Bagration, to\r
+dinner.\r
+\r
+On the first arrival of the news of the battle of Austerlitz, Moscow had\r
+been bewildered. At that time, the Russians were so used to victories\r
+that on receiving news of the defeat some would simply not believe it,\r
+while others sought some extraordinary explanation of so strange an\r
+event. In the English Club, where all who were distinguished, important,\r
+and well informed foregathered when the news began to arrive in\r
+December, nothing was said about the war and the last battle, as though\r
+all were in a conspiracy of silence. The men who set the tone in\r
+conversation--Count Rostopchin, Prince Yuri Dolgorukov, Valuev, Count\r
+Markov, and Prince Vyazemski--did not show themselves at the club, but\r
+met in private houses in intimate circles, and the Moscovites who took\r
+their opinions from others--Ilya Rostov among them--remained for a while\r
+without any definite opinion on the subject of the war and without\r
+leaders. The Moscovites felt that something was wrong and that to\r
+discuss the bad news was difficult, and so it was best to be silent. But\r
+after a while, just as a jury comes out of its room, the bigwigs who\r
+guided the club's opinion reappeared, and everybody began speaking\r
+clearly and definitely. Reasons were found for the incredible, unheard-\r
+of, and impossible event of a Russian defeat, everything became clear,\r
+and in all corners of Moscow the same things began to be said. These\r
+reasons were the treachery of the Austrians, a defective commissariat,\r
+the treachery of the Pole Przebyszewski and of the Frenchman Langeron,\r
+Kutuzov's incapacity, and (it was whispered) the youth and inexperience\r
+of the sovereign, who had trusted worthless and insignificant people.\r
+But the army, the Russian army, everyone declared, was extraordinary and\r
+had achieved miracles of valor. The soldiers, officers, and generals\r
+were heroes. But the hero of heroes was Prince Bagration, distinguished\r
+by his Schon Grabern affair and by the retreat from Austerlitz, where he\r
+alone had withdrawn his column unbroken and had all day beaten back an\r
+enemy force twice as numerous as his own. What also conduced to\r
+Bagration's being selected as Moscow's hero was the fact that he had no\r
+connections in the city and was a stranger there. In his person, honor\r
+was shown to a simple fighting Russian soldier without connections and\r
+intrigues, and to one who was associated by memories of the Italian\r
+campaign with the name of Suvorov. Moreover, paying such honor to\r
+Bagration was the best way of expressing disapproval and dislike of\r
+Kutuzov.\r
+\r
+"Had there been no Bagration, it would have been necessary to invent\r
+him," said the wit Shinshin, parodying the words of Voltaire. Kutuzov no\r
+one spoke of, except some who abused him in whispers, calling him a\r
+court weathercock and an old satyr.\r
+\r
+All Moscow repeated Prince Dolgorukov's saying: "If you go on modeling\r
+and modeling you must get smeared with clay," suggesting consolation for\r
+our defeat by the memory of former victories; and the words of\r
+Rostopchin, that French soldiers have to be incited to battle by\r
+highfalutin words, and Germans by logical arguments to show them that it\r
+is more dangerous to run away than to advance, but that Russian soldiers\r
+only need to be restrained and held back! On all sides, new and fresh\r
+anecdotes were heard of individual examples of heroism shown by our\r
+officers and men at Austerlitz. One had saved a standard, another had\r
+killed five Frenchmen, a third had loaded five cannon singlehanded. Berg\r
+was mentioned, by those who did not know him, as having, when wounded in\r
+the right hand, taken his sword in the left, and gone forward. Of\r
+Bolkonski, nothing was said, and only those who knew him intimately\r
+regretted that he had died so young, leaving a pregnant wife with his\r
+eccentric father.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+On that third of March, all the rooms in the English Club were filled\r
+with a hum of conversation, like the hum of bees swarming in springtime.\r
+The members and guests of the club wandered hither and thither, sat,\r
+stood, met, and separated, some in uniform and some in evening dress,\r
+and a few here and there with powdered hair and in Russian kaftans.\r
+Powdered footmen, in livery with buckled shoes and smart stockings,\r
+stood at every door anxiously noting visitors' every movement in order\r
+to offer their services. Most of those present were elderly, respected\r
+men with broad, self-confident faces, fat fingers, and resolute gestures\r
+and voices. This class of guests and members sat in certain habitual\r
+places and met in certain habitual groups. A minority of those present\r
+were casual guests--chiefly young men, among whom were Denisov, Rostov,\r
+and Dolokhov--who was now again an officer in the Semenov regiment. The\r
+faces of these young people, especially those who were military men,\r
+bore that expression of condescending respect for their elders which\r
+seems to say to the older generation, "We are prepared to respect and\r
+honor you, but all the same remember that the future belongs to us."\r
+\r
+Nesvitski was there as an old member of the club. Pierre, who at his\r
+wife's command had let his hair grow and abandoned his spectacles, went\r
+about the rooms fashionably dressed but looking sad and dull. Here, as\r
+elsewhere, he was surrounded by an atmosphere of subservience to his\r
+wealth, and being in the habit of lording it over these people, he\r
+treated them with absent-minded contempt.\r
+\r
+By his age he should have belonged to the younger men, but by his wealth\r
+and connections he belonged to the groups of old and honored guests, and\r
+so he went from one group to another. Some of the most important old men\r
+were the center of groups which even strangers approached respectfully\r
+to hear the voices of well-known men. The largest circles formed round\r
+Count Rostopchin, Valuev, and Naryshkin. Rostopchin was describing how\r
+the Russians had been overwhelmed by flying Austrians and had had to\r
+force their way through them with bayonets.\r
+\r
+Valuev was confidentially telling that Uvarov had been sent from\r
+Petersburg to ascertain what Moscow was thinking about Austerlitz.\r
+\r
+In the third circle, Naryshkin was speaking of the meeting of the\r
+Austrian Council of War at which Suvorov crowed like a cock in reply to\r
+the nonsense talked by the Austrian generals. Shinshin, standing close\r
+by, tried to make a joke, saying that Kutuzov had evidently failed to\r
+learn from Suvorov even so simple a thing as the art of crowing like a\r
+cock, but the elder members glanced severely at the wit, making him feel\r
+that in that place and on that day, it was improper to speak so of\r
+Kutuzov.\r
+\r
+Count Ilya Rostov, hurried and preoccupied, went about in his soft boots\r
+between the dining and drawing rooms, hastily greeting the important and\r
+unimportant, all of whom he knew, as if they were all equals, while his\r
+eyes occasionally sought out his fine well-set-up young son, resting on\r
+him and winking joyfully at him. Young Rostov stood at a window with\r
+Dolokhov, whose acquaintance he had lately made and highly valued. The\r
+old count came up to them and pressed Dolokhov's hand.\r
+\r
+"Please come and visit us... you know my brave boy... been together out\r
+there... both playing the hero... Ah, Vasili Ignatovich... How d'ye do,\r
+old fellow?" he said, turning to an old man who was passing, but before\r
+he had finished his greeting there was a general stir, and a footman who\r
+had run in announced, with a frightened face: "He's arrived!"\r
+\r
+Bells rang, the stewards rushed forward, and--like rye shaken together\r
+in a shovel--the guests who had been scattered about in different rooms\r
+came together and crowded in the large drawing room by the door of the\r
+ballroom.\r
+\r
+Bagration appeared in the doorway of the anteroom without hat or sword,\r
+which, in accord with the club custom, he had given up to the hall\r
+porter. He had no lambskin cap on his head, nor had he a loaded whip\r
+over his shoulder, as when Rostov had seen him on the eve of the battle\r
+of Austerlitz, but wore a tight new uniform with Russian and foreign\r
+Orders, and the Star of St. George on his left breast. Evidently just\r
+before coming to the dinner he had had his hair and whiskers trimmed,\r
+which changed his appearance for the worse. There was something naively\r
+festive in his air, which, in conjunction with his firm and virile\r
+features, gave him a rather comical expression. Bekleshev and Theodore\r
+Uvarov, who had arrived with him, paused at the doorway to allow him, as\r
+the guest of honor, to enter first. Bagration was embarrassed, not\r
+wishing to avail himself of their courtesy, and this caused some delay\r
+at the doors, but after all he did at last enter first. He walked shyly\r
+and awkwardly over the parquet floor of the reception room, not knowing\r
+what to do with his hands; he was more accustomed to walk over a plowed\r
+field under fire, as he had done at the head of the Kursk regiment at\r
+Schon Grabern--and he would have found that easier. The committeemen met\r
+him at the first door and, expressing their delight at seeing such a\r
+highly honored guest, took possession of him as it were, without waiting\r
+for his reply, surrounded him, and led him to the drawing room. It was\r
+at first impossible to enter the drawing-room door for the crowd of\r
+members and guests jostling one another and trying to get a good look at\r
+Bagration over each other's shoulders, as if he were some rare animal.\r
+Count Ilya Rostov, laughing and repeating the words, "Make way, dear\r
+boy! Make way, make way!" pushed through the crowd more energetically\r
+than anyone, led the guests into the drawing room, and seated them on\r
+the center sofa. The bigwigs, the most respected members of the club,\r
+beset the new arrivals. Count Ilya, again thrusting his way through the\r
+crowd, went out of the drawing room and reappeared a minute later with\r
+another committeeman, carrying a large silver salver which he presented\r
+to Prince Bagration. On the salver lay some verses composed and printed\r
+in the hero's honor. Bagration, on seeing the salver, glanced around in\r
+dismay, as though seeking help. But all eyes demanded that he should\r
+submit. Feeling himself in their power, he resolutely took the salver\r
+with both hands and looked sternly and reproachfully at the count who\r
+had presented it to him. Someone obligingly took the dish from Bagration\r
+(or he would, it seemed, have held it till evening and have gone in to\r
+dinner with it) and drew his attention to the verses.\r
+\r
+"Well, I will read them, then!" Bagration seemed to say, and, fixing his\r
+weary eyes on the paper, began to read them with a fixed and serious\r
+expression. But the author himself took the verses and began reading\r
+them aloud. Bagration bowed his head and listened:\r
+\r
+\r
+Bring glory then to Alexander's reign And on the throne our Titus\r
+shield. A dreaded foe be thou, kindhearted as a man, A Rhipheus at home,\r
+a Caesar in the field! E'en fortunate Napoleon Knows by experience, now,\r
+Bagration, And dare not Herculean Russians trouble...\r
+\r
+But before he had finished reading, a stentorian major-domo announced\r
+that dinner was ready! The door opened, and from the dining room came\r
+the resounding strains of the polonaise:\r
+\r
+\r
+Conquest's joyful thunder waken, Triumph, valiant Russians, now!...\r
+\r
+and Count Rostov, glancing angrily at the author who went on reading his\r
+verses, bowed to Bagration. Everyone rose, feeling that dinner was more\r
+important than verses, and Bagration, again preceding all the rest, went\r
+in to dinner. He was seated in the place of honor between two\r
+Alexanders--Bekleshev and Naryshkin--which was a significant allusion to\r
+the name of the sovereign. Three hundred persons took their seats in the\r
+dining room, according to their rank and importance: the more important\r
+nearer to the honored guest, as naturally as water flows deepest where\r
+the land lies lowest.\r
+\r
+Just before dinner, Count Ilya Rostov presented his son to Bagration,\r
+who recognized him and said a few words to him, disjointed and awkward,\r
+as were all the words he spoke that day, and Count Ilya looked joyfully\r
+and proudly around while Bagration spoke to his son.\r
+\r
+Nicholas Rostov, with Denisov and his new acquaintance, Dolokhov, sat\r
+almost at the middle of the table. Facing them sat Pierre, beside Prince\r
+Nesvitski. Count Ilya Rostov with the other members of the committee sat\r
+facing Bagration and, as the very personification of Moscow hospitality,\r
+did the honors to the prince.\r
+\r
+His efforts had not been in vain. The dinner, both the Lenten and the\r
+other fare, was splendid, yet he could not feel quite at ease till the\r
+end of the meal. He winked at the butler, whispered directions to the\r
+footmen, and awaited each expected dish with some anxiety. Everything\r
+was excellent. With the second course, a gigantic sterlet (at sight of\r
+which Ilya Rostov blushed with self-conscious pleasure), the footmen\r
+began popping corks and filling the champagne glasses. After the fish,\r
+which made a certain sensation, the count exchanged glances with the\r
+other committeemen. "There will be many toasts, it's time to begin," he\r
+whispered, and taking up his glass, he rose. All were silent, waiting\r
+for what he would say.\r
+\r
+"To the health of our Sovereign, the Emperor!" he cried, and at the same\r
+moment his kindly eyes grew moist with tears of joy and enthusiasm. The\r
+band immediately struck up "Conquest's joyful thunder waken..." All rose\r
+and cried "Hurrah!" Bagration also rose and shouted "Hurrah!" in exactly\r
+the same voice in which he had shouted it on the field at Schon Grabern.\r
+Young Rostov's ecstatic voice could be heard above the three hundred\r
+others. He nearly wept. "To the health of our Sovereign, the Emperor!"\r
+he roared, "Hurrah!" and emptying his glass at one gulp he dashed it to\r
+the floor. Many followed his example, and the loud shouting continued\r
+for a long time. When the voices subsided, the footmen cleared away the\r
+broken glass and everybody sat down again, smiling at the noise they had\r
+made and exchanging remarks. The old count rose once more, glanced at a\r
+note lying beside his plate, and proposed a toast, "To the health of the\r
+hero of our last campaign, Prince Peter Ivanovich Bagration!" and again\r
+his blue eyes grew moist. "Hurrah!" cried the three hundred voices\r
+again, but instead of the band a choir began singing a cantata composed\r
+by Paul Ivanovich Kutuzov:\r
+\r
+\r
+Russians! O'er all barriers on! Courage conquest guarantees; Have we not\r
+Bagration? He brings foe men to their knees,... etc.\r
+\r
+As soon as the singing was over, another and another toast was proposed\r
+and Count Ilya Rostov became more and more moved, more glass was\r
+smashed, and the shouting grew louder. They drank to Bekleshev,\r
+Naryshkin, Uvarov, Dolgorukov, Apraksin, Valuev, to the committee, to\r
+all the club members and to all the club guests, and finally to Count\r
+Ilya Rostov separately, as the organizer of the banquet. At that toast,\r
+the count took out his handkerchief and, covering his face, wept\r
+outright.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+Pierre sat opposite Dolokhov and Nicholas Rostov. As usual, he ate and\r
+drank much, and eagerly. But those who knew him intimately noticed that\r
+some great change had come over him that day. He was silent all through\r
+dinner and looked about, blinking and scowling, or, with fixed eyes and\r
+a look of complete absent-mindedness, kept rubbing the bridge of his\r
+nose. His face was depressed and gloomy. He seemed to see and hear\r
+nothing of what was going on around him and to be absorbed by some\r
+depressing and unsolved problem.\r
+\r
+The unsolved problem that tormented him was caused by hints given by the\r
+princess, his cousin, at Moscow, concerning Dolokhov's intimacy with his\r
+wife, and by an anonymous letter he had received that morning, which in\r
+the mean jocular way common to anonymous letters said that he saw badly\r
+through his spectacles, but that his wife's connection with Dolokhov was\r
+a secret to no one but himself. Pierre absolutely disbelieved both the\r
+princess' hints and the letter, but he feared now to look at Dolokhov,\r
+who was sitting opposite him. Every time he chanced to meet Dolokhov's\r
+handsome insolent eyes, Pierre felt something terrible and monstrous\r
+rising in his soul and turned quickly away. Involuntarily recalling his\r
+wife's past and her relations with Dolokhov, Pierre saw clearly that\r
+what was said in the letter might be true, or might at least seem to be\r
+true had it not referred to his wife. He involuntarily remembered how\r
+Dolokhov, who had fully recovered his former position after the\r
+campaign, had returned to Petersburg and come to him. Availing himself\r
+of his friendly relations with Pierre as a boon companion, Dolokhov had\r
+come straight to his house, and Pierre had put him up and lent him\r
+money. Pierre recalled how Helene had smilingly expressed disapproval of\r
+Dolokhov's living at their house, and how cynically Dolokhov had praised\r
+his wife's beauty to him and from that time till they came to Moscow had\r
+not left them for a day.\r
+\r
+"Yes, he is very handsome," thought Pierre, "and I know him. It would be\r
+particularly pleasant to him to dishonor my name and ridicule me, just\r
+because I have exerted myself on his behalf, befriended him, and helped\r
+him. I know and understand what a spice that would add to the pleasure\r
+of deceiving me, if it really were true. Yes, if it were true, but I do\r
+not believe it. I have no right to, and can't, believe it." He\r
+remembered the expression Dolokhov's face assumed in his moments of\r
+cruelty, as when tying the policeman to the bear and dropping them into\r
+the water, or when he challenged a man to a duel without any reason, or\r
+shot a post-boy's horse with a pistol. That expression was often on\r
+Dolokhov's face when looking at him. "Yes, he is a bully," thought\r
+Pierre, "to kill a man means nothing to him. It must seem to him that\r
+everyone is afraid of him, and that must please him. He must think that\r
+I, too, am afraid of him--and in fact I am afraid of him," he thought,\r
+and again he felt something terrible and monstrous rising in his soul.\r
+Dolokhov, Denisov, and Rostov were now sitting opposite Pierre and\r
+seemed very gay. Rostov was talking merrily to his two friends, one of\r
+whom was a dashing hussar and the other a notorious duelist and rake,\r
+and every now and then he glanced ironically at Pierre, whose\r
+preoccupied, absent-minded, and massive figure was a very noticeable one\r
+at the dinner. Rostov looked inimically at Pierre, first because Pierre\r
+appeared to his hussar eyes as a rich civilian, the husband of a beauty,\r
+and in a word--an old woman; and secondly because Pierre in his\r
+preoccupation and absent-mindedness had not recognized Rostov and had\r
+not responded to his greeting. When the Emperor's health was drunk,\r
+Pierre, lost in thought, did not rise or lift his glass.\r
+\r
+"What are you about?" shouted Rostov, looking at him in an ecstasy of\r
+exasperation. "Don't you hear it's His Majesty the Emperor's health?"\r
+\r
+Pierre sighed, rose submissively, emptied his glass, and, waiting till\r
+all were seated again, turned with his kindly smile to Rostov.\r
+\r
+"Why, I didn't recognize you!" he said. But Rostov was otherwise\r
+engaged; he was shouting "Hurrah!"\r
+\r
+"Why don't you renew the acquaintance?" said Dolokhov to Rostov.\r
+\r
+"Confound him, he's a fool!" said Rostov.\r
+\r
+"One should make up to the husbands of pretty women," said Denisov.\r
+\r
+Pierre did not catch what they were saying, but knew they were talking\r
+about him. He reddened and turned away.\r
+\r
+"Well, now to the health of handsome women!" said Dolokhov, and with a\r
+serious expression, but with a smile lurking at the corners of his\r
+mouth, he turned with his glass to Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Here's to the health of lovely women, Peterkin--and their lovers!" he\r
+added.\r
+\r
+Pierre, with downcast eyes, drank out of his glass without looking at\r
+Dolokhov or answering him. The footman, who was distributing leaflets\r
+with Kutuzov's cantata, laid one before Pierre as one of the principal\r
+guests. He was just going to take it when Dolokhov, leaning across,\r
+snatched it from his hand and began reading it. Pierre looked at\r
+Dolokhov and his eyes dropped, the something terrible and monstrous that\r
+had tormented him all dinnertime rose and took possession of him. He\r
+leaned his whole massive body across the table.\r
+\r
+"How dare you take it?" he shouted.\r
+\r
+Hearing that cry and seeing to whom it was addressed, Nesvitski and the\r
+neighbor on his right quickly turned in alarm to Bezukhov.\r
+\r
+"Don't! Don't! What are you about?" whispered their frightened voices.\r
+\r
+Dolokhov looked at Pierre with clear, mirthful, cruel eyes, and that\r
+smile of his which seemed to say, "Ah! This is what I like!"\r
+\r
+"You shan't have it!" he said distinctly.\r
+\r
+Pale, with quivering lips, Pierre snatched the copy.\r
+\r
+"You...! you... scoundrel! I challenge you!" he ejaculated, and, pushing\r
+back his chair, he rose from the table.\r
+\r
+At the very instant he did this and uttered those words, Pierre felt\r
+that the question of his wife's guilt which had been tormenting him the\r
+whole day was finally and indubitably answered in the affirmative. He\r
+hated her and was forever sundered from her. Despite Denisov's request\r
+that he would take no part in the matter, Rostov agreed to be Dolokhov's\r
+second, and after dinner he discussed the arrangements for the duel with\r
+Nesvitski, Bezukhov's second. Pierre went home, but Rostov with Dolokhov\r
+and Denisov stayed on at the club till late, listening to the gypsies\r
+and other singers.\r
+\r
+"Well then, till tomorrow at Sokolniki," said Dolokhov, as he took leave\r
+of Rostov in the club porch.\r
+\r
+"And do you feel quite calm?" Rostov asked.\r
+\r
+Dolokhov paused.\r
+\r
+"Well, you see, I'll tell you the whole secret of dueling in two words.\r
+If you are going to fight a duel, and you make a will and write\r
+affectionate letters to your parents, and if you think you may be\r
+killed, you are a fool and are lost for certain. But go with the firm\r
+intention of killing your man as quickly and surely as possible, and\r
+then all will be right, as our bear huntsman at Kostroma used to tell\r
+me. 'Everyone fears a bear,' he says, 'but when you see one your fear's\r
+all gone, and your only thought is not to let him get away!' And that's\r
+how it is with me. A demain, mon cher." *\r
+\r
+\r
+* Till tomorrow, my dear fellow.\r
+\r
+Next day, at eight in the morning, Pierre and Nesvitski drove to the\r
+Sokolniki forest and found Dolokhov, Denisov, and Rostov already there.\r
+Pierre had the air of a man preoccupied with considerations which had no\r
+connection with the matter in hand. His haggard face was yellow. He had\r
+evidently not slept that night. He looked about distractedly and screwed\r
+up his eyes as if dazzled by the sun. He was entirely absorbed by two\r
+considerations: his wife's guilt, of which after his sleepless night he\r
+had not the slightest doubt, and the guiltlessness of Dolokhov, who had\r
+no reason to preserve the honor of a man who was nothing to him.... "I\r
+should perhaps have done the same thing in his place," thought Pierre.\r
+"It's even certain that I should have done the same, then why this duel,\r
+this murder? Either I shall kill him, or he will hit me in the head, or\r
+elbow, or knee. Can't I go away from here, run away, bury myself\r
+somewhere?" passed through his mind. But just at moments when such\r
+thoughts occurred to him, he would ask in a particularly calm and\r
+absent-minded way, which inspired the respect of the onlookers, "Will it\r
+be long? Are things ready?"\r
+\r
+When all was ready, the sabers stuck in the snow to mark the barriers,\r
+and the pistols loaded, Nesvitski went up to Pierre.\r
+\r
+"I should not be doing my duty, Count," he said in timid tones, "and\r
+should not justify your confidence and the honor you have done me in\r
+choosing me for your second, if at this grave, this very grave, moment I\r
+did not tell you the whole truth. I think there is no sufficient ground\r
+for this affair, or for blood to be shed over it.... You were not right,\r
+not quite in the right, you were impetuous..."\r
+\r
+"Oh yes, it is horribly stupid," said Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Then allow me to express your regrets, and I am sure your opponent will\r
+accept them," said Nesvitski (who like the others concerned in the\r
+affair, and like everyone in similar cases, did not yet believe that the\r
+affair had come to an actual duel). "You know, Count, it is much more\r
+honorable to admit one's mistake than to let matters become irreparable.\r
+There was no insult on either side. Allow me to convey...."\r
+\r
+"No! What is there to talk about?" said Pierre. "It's all the same....\r
+Is everything ready?" he added. "Only tell me where to go and where to\r
+shoot," he said with an unnaturally gentle smile.\r
+\r
+He took the pistol in his hand and began asking about the working of the\r
+trigger, as he had not before held a pistol in his hand--a fact that he\r
+did not wish to confess.\r
+\r
+"Oh yes, like that, I know, I only forgot," said he.\r
+\r
+"No apologies, none whatever," said Dolokhov to Denisov (who on his side\r
+had been attempting a reconciliation), and he also went up to the\r
+appointed place.\r
+\r
+The spot chosen for the duel was some eighty paces from the road, where\r
+the sleighs had been left, in a small clearing in the pine forest\r
+covered with melting snow, the frost having begun to break up during the\r
+last few days. The antagonists stood forty paces apart at the farther\r
+edge of the clearing. The seconds, measuring the paces, left tracks in\r
+the deep wet snow between the place where they had been standing and\r
+Nesvitski's and Dolokhov's sabers, which were stuck into the ground ten\r
+paces apart to mark the barrier. It was thawing and misty; at forty\r
+paces' distance nothing could be seen. For three minutes all had been\r
+ready, but they still delayed and all were silent.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+"Well begin!" said Dolokhov.\r
+\r
+"All right," said Pierre, still smiling in the same way. A feeling of\r
+dread was in the air. It was evident that the affair so lightly begun\r
+could no longer be averted but was taking its course independently of\r
+men's will.\r
+\r
+Denisov first went to the barrier and announced: "As the adve'sawies\r
+have wefused a weconciliation, please pwoceed. Take your pistols, and at\r
+the word thwee begin to advance.\r
+\r
+"O-ne! T-wo! Thwee!" he shouted angrily and stepped aside.\r
+\r
+The combatants advanced along the trodden tracks, nearer and nearer to\r
+one another, beginning to see one another through the mist. They had the\r
+right to fire when they liked as they approached the barrier. Dolokhov\r
+walked slowly without raising his pistol, looking intently with his\r
+bright, sparkling blue eyes into his antagonist's face. His mouth wore\r
+its usual semblance of a smile.\r
+\r
+"So I can fire when I like!" said Pierre, and at the word "three," he\r
+went quickly forward, missing the trodden path and stepping into the\r
+deep snow. He held the pistol in his right hand at arm's length,\r
+apparently afraid of shooting himself with it. His left hand he held\r
+carefully back, because he wished to support his right hand with it and\r
+knew he must not do so. Having advanced six paces and strayed off the\r
+track into the snow, Pierre looked down at his feet, then quickly\r
+glanced at Dolokhov and, bending his finger as he had been shown, fired.\r
+Not at all expecting so loud a report, Pierre shuddered at the sound and\r
+then, smiling at his own sensations, stood still. The smoke, rendered\r
+denser by the mist, prevented him from seeing anything for an instant,\r
+but there was no second report as he had expected. He only heard\r
+Dolokhov's hurried steps, and his figure came in view through the smoke.\r
+He was pressing one hand to his left side, while the other clutched his\r
+drooping pistol. His face was pale. Rostov ran toward him and said\r
+something.\r
+\r
+"No-o-o!" muttered Dolokhov through his teeth, "no, it's not over." And\r
+after stumbling a few staggering steps right up to the saber, he sank on\r
+the snow beside it. His left hand was bloody; he wiped it on his coat\r
+and supported himself with it. His frowning face was pallid and\r
+quivered.\r
+\r
+"Plea..." began Dolokhov, but could not at first pronounce the word.\r
+\r
+"Please," he uttered with an effort.\r
+\r
+Pierre, hardly restraining his sobs, began running toward Dolokhov and\r
+was about to cross the space between the barriers, when Dolokhov cried:\r
+\r
+"To your barrier!" and Pierre, grasping what was meant, stopped by his\r
+saber. Only ten paces divided them. Dolokhov lowered his head to the\r
+snow, greedily bit at it, again raised his head, adjusted himself, drew\r
+in his legs and sat up, seeking a firm center of gravity. He sucked and\r
+swallowed the cold snow, his lips quivered but his eyes, still smiling,\r
+glittered with effort and exasperation as he mustered his remaining\r
+strength. He raised his pistol and aimed.\r
+\r
+"Sideways! Cover yourself with your pistol!" ejaculated Nesvitski.\r
+\r
+"Cover yourself!" even Denisov cried to his adversary.\r
+\r
+Pierre, with a gentle smile of pity and remorse, his arms and legs\r
+helplessly spread out, stood with his broad chest directly facing\r
+Dolokhov looked sorrowfully at him. Denisov, Rostov, and Nesvitski\r
+closed their eyes. At the same instant they heard a report and\r
+Dolokhov's angry cry.\r
+\r
+"Missed!" shouted Dolokhov, and he lay helplessly, face downwards on the\r
+snow.\r
+\r
+Pierre clutched his temples, and turning round went into the forest,\r
+trampling through the deep snow, and muttering incoherent words:\r
+\r
+"Folly... folly! Death... lies..." he repeated, puckering his face.\r
+\r
+Nesvitski stopped him and took him home.\r
+\r
+Rostov and Denisov drove away with the wounded Dolokhov.\r
+\r
+The latter lay silent in the sleigh with closed eyes and did not answer\r
+a word to the questions addressed to him. But on entering Moscow he\r
+suddenly came to and, lifting his head with an effort, took Rostov, who\r
+was sitting beside him, by the hand. Rostov was struck by the totally\r
+altered and unexpectedly rapturous and tender expression on Dolokhov's\r
+face.\r
+\r
+"Well? How do you feel?" he asked.\r
+\r
+"Bad! But it's not that, my friend-" said Dolokhov with a gasping voice.\r
+"Where are we? In Moscow, I know. I don't matter, but I have killed her,\r
+killed... She won't get over it! She won't survive...."\r
+\r
+"Who?" asked Rostov.\r
+\r
+"My mother! My mother, my angel, my adored angel mother," and Dolokhov\r
+pressed Rostov's hand and burst into tears.\r
+\r
+When he had become a little quieter, he explained to Rostov that he was\r
+living with his mother, who, if she saw him dying, would not survive it.\r
+He implored Rostov to go on and prepare her.\r
+\r
+Rostov went on ahead to do what was asked, and to his great surprise\r
+learned that Dolokhov the brawler, Dolokhov the bully, lived in Moscow\r
+with an old mother and a hunchback sister, and was the most affectionate\r
+of sons and brothers.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+Pierre had of late rarely seen his wife alone. Both in Petersburg and in\r
+Moscow their house was always full of visitors. The night after the duel\r
+he did not go to his bedroom but, as he often did, remained in his\r
+father's room, that huge room in which Count Bezukhov had died.\r
+\r
+He lay down on the sofa meaning to fall asleep and forget all that had\r
+happened to him, but could not do so. Such a storm of feelings,\r
+thoughts, and memories suddenly arose within him that he could not fall\r
+asleep, nor even remain in one place, but had to jump up and pace the\r
+room with rapid steps. Now he seemed to see her in the early days of\r
+their marriage, with bare shoulders and a languid, passionate look on\r
+her face, and then immediately he saw beside her Dolokhov's handsome,\r
+insolent, hard, and mocking face as he had seen it at the banquet, and\r
+then that same face pale, quivering, and suffering, as it had been when\r
+he reeled and sank on the snow.\r
+\r
+"What has happened?" he asked himself. "I have killed her lover, yes,\r
+killed my wife's lover. Yes, that was it! And why? How did I come to do\r
+it?"--"Because you married her," answered an inner voice.\r
+\r
+"But in what was I to blame?" he asked. "In marrying her without loving\r
+her; in deceiving yourself and her." And he vividly recalled that moment\r
+after supper at Prince Vasili's, when he spoke those words he had found\r
+so difficult to utter: "I love you." "It all comes from that! Even then\r
+I felt it," he thought. "I felt then that it was not so, that I had no\r
+right to do it. And so it turns out."\r
+\r
+He remembered his honeymoon and blushed at the recollection.\r
+Particularly vivid, humiliating, and shameful was the recollection of\r
+how one day soon after his marriage he came out of the bedroom into his\r
+study a little before noon in his silk dressing gown and found his head\r
+steward there, who, bowing respectfully, looked into his face and at his\r
+dressing gown and smiled slightly, as if expressing respectful\r
+understanding of his employer's happiness.\r
+\r
+"But how often I have felt proud of her, proud of her majestic beauty\r
+and social tact," thought he; "been proud of my house, in which she\r
+received all Petersburg, proud of her unapproachability and beauty. So\r
+this is what I was proud of! I then thought that I did not understand\r
+her. How often when considering her character I have told myself that I\r
+was to blame for not understanding her, for not understanding that\r
+constant composure and complacency and lack of all interests or desires,\r
+and the whole secret lies in the terrible truth that she is a depraved\r
+woman. Now I have spoken that terrible word to myself all has become\r
+clear.\r
+\r
+"Anatole used to come to borrow money from her and used to kiss her\r
+naked shoulders. She did not give him the money, but let herself be\r
+kissed. Her father in jest tried to rouse her jealousy, and she replied\r
+with a calm smile that she was not so stupid as to be jealous: 'Let him\r
+do what he pleases,' she used to say of me. One day I asked her if she\r
+felt any symptoms of pregnancy. She laughed contemptuously and said she\r
+was not a fool to want to have children, and that she was not going to\r
+have any children by me."\r
+\r
+Then he recalled the coarseness and bluntness of her thoughts and the\r
+vulgarity of the expressions that were natural to her, though she had\r
+been brought up in the most aristocratic circles.\r
+\r
+"I'm not such a fool.... Just you try it on.... Allez-vous promener," *\r
+she used to say. Often seeing the success she had with young and old men\r
+and women Pierre could not understand why he did not love her.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "You clear out of this."\r
+\r
+"Yes, I never loved her," said he to himself; "I knew she was a depraved\r
+woman," he repeated, "but dared not admit it to myself. And now there's\r
+Dolokhov sitting in the snow with a forced smile and perhaps dying,\r
+while meeting my remorse with some forced bravado!"\r
+\r
+Pierre was one of those people who, in spite of an appearance of what is\r
+called weak character, do not seek a confidant in their troubles. He\r
+digested his sufferings alone.\r
+\r
+"It is all, all her fault," he said to himself; "but what of that? Why\r
+did I bind myself to her? Why did I say 'Je vous aime' * to her, which\r
+was a lie, and worse than a lie? I am guilty and must endure... what? A\r
+slur on my name? A misfortune for life? Oh, that's nonsense," he\r
+thought. "The slur on my name and honor--that's all apart from myself."\r
+\r
+\r
+* I love you.\r
+\r
+"Louis XVI was executed because they said he was dishonorable and a\r
+criminal," came into Pierre's head, "and from their point of view they\r
+were right, as were those too who canonized him and died a martyr's\r
+death for his sake. Then Robespierre was beheaded for being a despot.\r
+Who is right and who is wrong? No one! But if you are alive--live:\r
+tomorrow you'll die as I might have died an hour ago. And is it worth\r
+tormenting oneself, when one has only a moment of life in comparison\r
+with eternity?"\r
+\r
+But at the moment when he imagined himself calmed by such reflections,\r
+she suddenly came into his mind as she was at the moments when he had\r
+most strongly expressed his insincere love for her, and he felt the\r
+blood rush to his heart and had again to get up and move about and break\r
+and tear whatever came to his hand. "Why did I tell her that 'Je vous\r
+aime'?" he kept repeating to himself. And when he had said it for the\r
+tenth time, Moliere's words: "Mais que diable allait-il faire dans cette\r
+galere?"* occurred to him, and he began to laugh at himself.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "But what the devil was he doing in that galley?"\r
+\r
+In the night he called his valet and told him to pack up to go to\r
+Petersburg. He could not imagine how he could speak to her now. He\r
+resolved to go away next day and leave a letter informing her of his\r
+intention to part from her forever.\r
+\r
+Next morning when the valet came into the room with his coffee, Pierre\r
+was lying asleep on the ottoman with an open book in his hand.\r
+\r
+He woke up and looked round for a while with a startled expression,\r
+unable to realize where he was.\r
+\r
+"The countess told me to inquire whether your excellency was at home,"\r
+said the valet.\r
+\r
+But before Pierre could decide what answer he would send, the countess\r
+herself in a white satin dressing gown embroidered with silver and with\r
+simply dressed hair (two immense plaits twice round her lovely head like\r
+a coronet) entered the room, calm and majestic, except that there was a\r
+wrathful wrinkle on her rather prominent marble brow. With her\r
+imperturbable calm she did not begin to speak in front of the valet. She\r
+knew of the duel and had come to speak about it. She waited till the\r
+valet had set down the coffee things and left the room. Pierre looked at\r
+her timidly over his spectacles, and like a hare surrounded by hounds\r
+who lays back her ears and continues to crouch motionless before her\r
+enemies, he tried to continue reading. But feeling this to be senseless\r
+and impossible, he again glanced timidly at her. She did not sit down\r
+but looked at him with a contemptuous smile, waiting for the valet to\r
+go.\r
+\r
+"Well, what's this now? What have you been up to now, I should like to\r
+know?" she asked sternly.\r
+\r
+"I? What have I...?" stammered Pierre.\r
+\r
+"So it seems you're a hero, eh? Come now, what was this duel about? What\r
+is it meant to prove? What? I ask you."\r
+\r
+Pierre turned over heavily on the ottoman and opened his mouth, but\r
+could not reply.\r
+\r
+"If you won't answer, I'll tell you..." Helene went on. "You believe\r
+everything you're told. You were told..." Helene laughed, "that Dolokhov\r
+was my lover," she said in French with her coarse plainness of speech,\r
+uttering the word amant as casually as any other word, "and you believed\r
+it! Well, what have you proved? What does this duel prove? That you're a\r
+fool, que vous etes un sot, but everybody knew that. What will be the\r
+result? That I shall be the laughingstock of all Moscow, that everyone\r
+will say that you, drunk and not knowing what you were about, challenged\r
+a man you are jealous of without cause." Helene raised her voice and\r
+became more and more excited, "A man who's a better man than you in\r
+every way..."\r
+\r
+"Hm... Hm...!" growled Pierre, frowning without looking at her, and not\r
+moving a muscle.\r
+\r
+"And how could you believe he was my lover? Why? Because I like his\r
+company? If you were cleverer and more agreeable, I should prefer\r
+yours."\r
+\r
+"Don't speak to me... I beg you," muttered Pierre hoarsely.\r
+\r
+"Why shouldn't I speak? I can speak as I like, and I tell you plainly\r
+that there are not many wives with husbands such as you who would not\r
+have taken lovers (des amants), but I have not done so," said she.\r
+\r
+Pierre wished to say something, looked at her with eyes whose strange\r
+expression she did not understand, and lay down again. He was suffering\r
+physically at that moment, there was a weight on his chest and he could\r
+not breathe. He knew that he must do something to put an end to this\r
+suffering, but what he wanted to do was too terrible.\r
+\r
+"We had better separate," he muttered in a broken voice.\r
+\r
+"Separate? Very well, but only if you give me a fortune," said Helene.\r
+"Separate! That's a thing to frighten me with!"\r
+\r
+Pierre leaped up from the sofa and rushed staggering toward her.\r
+\r
+"I'll kill you!" he shouted, and seizing the marble top of a table with\r
+a strength he had never before felt, he made a step toward her\r
+brandishing the slab.\r
+\r
+Helene's face became terrible, she shrieked and sprang aside. His\r
+father's nature showed itself in Pierre. He felt the fascination and\r
+delight of frenzy. He flung down the slab, broke it, and swooping down\r
+on her with outstretched hands shouted, "Get out!" in such a terrible\r
+voice that the whole house heard it with horror. God knows what he would\r
+have done at that moment had Helene not fled from the room.\r
+\r
+A week later Pierre gave his wife full power to control all his estates\r
+in Great Russia, which formed the larger part of his property, and left\r
+for Petersburg alone.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+Two months had elapsed since the news of the battle of Austerlitz and\r
+the loss of Prince Andrew had reached Bald Hills, and in spite of the\r
+letters sent through the embassy and all the searches made, his body had\r
+not been found nor was he on the list of prisoners. What was worst of\r
+all for his relations was the fact that there was still a possibility of\r
+his having been picked up on the battlefield by the people of the place\r
+and that he might now be lying, recovering or dying, alone among\r
+strangers and unable to send news of himself. The gazettes from which\r
+the old prince first heard of the defeat at Austerlitz stated, as usual\r
+very briefly and vaguely, that after brilliant engagements the Russians\r
+had had to retreat and had made their withdrawal in perfect order. The\r
+old prince understood from this official report that our army had been\r
+defeated. A week after the gazette report of the battle of Austerlitz\r
+came a letter from Kutuzov informing the prince of the fate that had\r
+befallen his son.\r
+\r
+"Your son," wrote Kutuzov, "fell before my eyes, a standard in his hand\r
+and at the head of a regiment--he fell as a hero, worthy of his father\r
+and his fatherland. To the great regret of myself and of the whole army\r
+it is still uncertain whether he is alive or not. I comfort myself and\r
+you with the hope that your son is alive, for otherwise he would have\r
+been mentioned among the officers found on the field of battle, a list\r
+of whom has been sent me under flag of truce."\r
+\r
+After receiving this news late in the evening, when he was alone in his\r
+study, the old prince went for his walk as usual next morning, but he\r
+was silent with his steward, the gardener, and the architect, and though\r
+he looked very grim he said nothing to anyone.\r
+\r
+When Princess Mary went to him at the usual hour he was working at his\r
+lathe and, as usual, did not look round at her.\r
+\r
+"Ah, Princess Mary!" he said suddenly in an unnatural voice, throwing\r
+down his chisel. (The wheel continued to revolve by its own impetus, and\r
+Princess Mary long remembered the dying creak of that wheel, which\r
+merged in her memory with what followed.)\r
+\r
+She approached him, saw his face, and something gave way within her. Her\r
+eyes grew dim. By the expression of her father's face, not sad, not\r
+crushed, but angry and working unnaturally, she saw that hanging over\r
+her and about to crush her was some terrible misfortune, the worst in\r
+life, one she had not yet experienced, irreparable and incomprehensible-\r
+-the death of one she loved.\r
+\r
+"Father! Andrew!"--said the ungraceful, awkward princess with such an\r
+indescribable charm of sorrow and self-forgetfulness that her father\r
+could not bear her look but turned away with a sob.\r
+\r
+"Bad news! He's not among the prisoners nor among the killed! Kutuzov\r
+writes..." and he screamed as piercingly as if he wished to drive the\r
+princess away by that scream... "Killed!"\r
+\r
+The princess did not fall down or faint. She was already pale, but on\r
+hearing these words her face changed and something brightened in her\r
+beautiful, radiant eyes. It was as if joy--a supreme joy apart from the\r
+joys and sorrows of this world--overflowed the great grief within her.\r
+She forgot all fear of her father, went up to him, took his hand, and\r
+drawing him down put her arm round his thin, scraggy neck.\r
+\r
+"Father," she said, "do not turn away from me, let us weep together."\r
+\r
+"Scoundrels! Blackguards!" shrieked the old man, turning his face away\r
+from her. "Destroying the army, destroying the men! And why? Go, go and\r
+tell Lise."\r
+\r
+The princess sank helplessly into an armchair beside her father and\r
+wept. She saw her brother now as he had been at the moment when he took\r
+leave of her and of Lise, his look tender yet proud. She saw him tender\r
+and amused as he was when he put on the little icon. "Did he believe?\r
+Had he repented of his unbelief? Was he now there? There in the realms\r
+of eternal peace and blessedness?" she thought.\r
+\r
+"Father, tell me how it happened," she asked through her tears.\r
+\r
+"Go! Go! Killed in battle, where the best of Russian men and Russia's\r
+glory were led to destruction. Go, Princess Mary. Go and tell Lise. I\r
+will follow."\r
+\r
+When Princess Mary returned from her father, the little princess sat\r
+working and looked up with that curious expression of inner, happy calm\r
+peculiar to pregnant women. It was evident that her eyes did not see\r
+Princess Mary but were looking within... into herself... at something\r
+joyful and mysterious taking place within her.\r
+\r
+"Mary," she said, moving away from the embroidery frame and lying back,\r
+"give me your hand." She took her sister-in-law's hand and held it below\r
+her waist.\r
+\r
+Her eyes were smiling expectantly, her downy lip rose and remained\r
+lifted in childlike happiness.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary knelt down before her and hid her face in the folds of her\r
+sister-in-law's dress.\r
+\r
+"There, there! Do you feel it? I feel so strange. And do you know, Mary,\r
+I am going to love him very much," said Lise, looking with bright and\r
+happy eyes at her sister-in-law.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary could not lift her head, she was weeping.\r
+\r
+"What is the matter, Mary?"\r
+\r
+"Nothing... only I feel sad... sad about Andrew," she said, wiping away\r
+her tears on her sister-in-law's knee.\r
+\r
+Several times in the course of the morning Princess Mary began trying to\r
+prepare her sister-in-law, and every time began to cry. Unobservant as\r
+was the little princess, these tears, the cause of which she did not\r
+understand, agitated her. She said nothing but looked about uneasily as\r
+if in search of something. Before dinner the old prince, of whom she was\r
+always afraid, came into her room with a peculiarly restless and malign\r
+expression and went out again without saying a word. She looked at\r
+Princess Mary, then sat thinking for a while with that expression of\r
+attention to something within her that is only seen in pregnant women,\r
+and suddenly began to cry.\r
+\r
+"Has anything come from Andrew?" she asked.\r
+\r
+"No, you know it's too soon for news. But my father is anxious and I\r
+feel afraid."\r
+\r
+"So there's nothing?"\r
+\r
+"Nothing," answered Princess Mary, looking firmly with her radiant eyes\r
+at her sister-in-law.\r
+\r
+She had determined not to tell her and persuaded her father to hide the\r
+terrible news from her till after her confinement, which was expected\r
+within a few days. Princess Mary and the old prince each bore and hid\r
+their grief in their own way. The old prince would not cherish any hope:\r
+he made up his mind that Prince Andrew had been killed, and though he\r
+sent an official to Austria to seek for traces of his son, he ordered a\r
+monument from Moscow which he intended to erect in his own garden to his\r
+memory, and he told everybody that his son had been killed. He tried not\r
+to change his former way of life, but his strength failed him. He walked\r
+less, ate less, slept less, and became weaker every day. Princess Mary\r
+hoped. She prayed for her brother as living and was always awaiting news\r
+of his return.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+"Dearest," said the little princess after breakfast on the morning of\r
+the nineteenth March, and her downy little lip rose from old habit, but\r
+as sorrow was manifest in every smile, the sound of every word, and even\r
+every footstep in that house since the terrible news had come, so now\r
+the smile of the little princess--influenced by the general mood though\r
+without knowing its cause--was such as to remind one still more of the\r
+general sorrow.\r
+\r
+"Dearest, I'm afraid this morning's fruschtique *--as Foka the cook\r
+calls it--has disagreed with me."\r
+\r
+\r
+* Fruhstuck: breakfast.\r
+\r
+"What is the matter with you, my darling? You look pale. Oh, you are\r
+very pale!" said Princess Mary in alarm, running with her soft,\r
+ponderous steps up to her sister-in-law.\r
+\r
+"Your excellency, should not Mary Bogdanovna be sent for?" said one of\r
+the maids who was present. (Mary Bogdanovna was a midwife from the\r
+neighboring town, who had been at Bald Hills for the last fortnight.)\r
+\r
+"Oh yes," assented Princess Mary, "perhaps that's it. I'll go. Courage,\r
+my angel." She kissed Lise and was about to leave the room.\r
+\r
+"Oh, no, no!" And besides the pallor and the physical suffering on the\r
+little princess' face, an expression of childish fear of inevitable pain\r
+showed itself.\r
+\r
+"No, it's only indigestion?... Say it's only indigestion, say so, Mary!\r
+Say..." And the little princess began to cry capriciously like a\r
+suffering child and to wring her little hands even with some\r
+affectation. Princess Mary ran out of the room to fetch Mary Bogdanovna.\r
+\r
+"Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! Oh!" she heard as she left the room.\r
+\r
+The midwife was already on her way to meet her, rubbing her small, plump\r
+white hands with an air of calm importance.\r
+\r
+"Mary Bogdanovna, I think it's beginning!" said Princess Mary looking at\r
+the midwife with wide-open eyes of alarm.\r
+\r
+"Well, the Lord be thanked, Princess," said Mary Bogdanovna, not\r
+hastening her steps. "You young ladies should not know anything about\r
+it."\r
+\r
+"But how is it the doctor from Moscow is not here yet?" said the\r
+princess. (In accordance with Lise's and Prince Andrew's wishes they had\r
+sent in good time to Moscow for a doctor and were expecting him at any\r
+moment.)\r
+\r
+"No matter, Princess, don't be alarmed," said Mary Bogdanovna. "We'll\r
+manage very well without a doctor."\r
+\r
+Five minutes later Princess Mary from her room heard something heavy\r
+being carried by. She looked out. The men servants were carrying the\r
+large leather sofa from Prince Andrew's study into the bedroom. On their\r
+faces was a quiet and solemn look.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary sat alone in her room listening to the sounds in the\r
+house, now and then opening her door when someone passed and watching\r
+what was going on in the passage. Some women passing with quiet steps in\r
+and out of the bedroom glanced at the princess and turned away. She did\r
+not venture to ask any questions, and shut the door again, now sitting\r
+down in her easy chair, now taking her prayer book, now kneeling before\r
+the icon stand. To her surprise and distress she found that her prayers\r
+did not calm her excitement. Suddenly her door opened softly and her old\r
+nurse, Praskovya Savishna, who hardly ever came to that room as the old\r
+prince had forbidden it, appeared on the threshold with a shawl round\r
+her head.\r
+\r
+"I've come to sit with you a bit, Masha," said the nurse, "and here I've\r
+brought the prince's wedding candles to light before his saint, my\r
+angel," she said with a sigh.\r
+\r
+"Oh, nurse, I'm so glad!"\r
+\r
+"God is merciful, birdie."\r
+\r
+The nurse lit the gilt candles before the icons and sat down by the door\r
+with her knitting. Princess Mary took a book and began reading. Only\r
+when footsteps or voices were heard did they look at one another, the\r
+princess anxious and inquiring, the nurse encouraging. Everyone in the\r
+house was dominated by the same feeling that Princess Mary experienced\r
+as she sat in her room. But owing to the superstition that the fewer the\r
+people who know of it the less a woman in travail suffers, everyone\r
+tried to pretend not to know; no one spoke of it, but apart from the\r
+ordinary staid and respectful good manners habitual in the prince's\r
+household, a common anxiety, a softening of the heart, and a\r
+consciousness that something great and mysterious was being accomplished\r
+at that moment made itself felt.\r
+\r
+There was no laughter in the maids' large hall. In the men servants'\r
+hall all sat waiting, silently and alert. In the outlying serfs'\r
+quarters torches and candles were burning and no one slept. The old\r
+prince, stepping on his heels, paced up and down his study and sent\r
+Tikhon to ask Mary Bogdanovna what news.--"Say only that 'the prince\r
+told me to ask,' and come and tell me her answer."\r
+\r
+"Inform the prince that labor has begun," said Mary Bogdanovna, giving\r
+the messenger a significant look.\r
+\r
+Tikhon went and told the prince.\r
+\r
+"Very good!" said the prince closing the door behind him, and Tikhon did\r
+not hear the slightest sound from the study after that.\r
+\r
+After a while he re-entered it as if to snuff the candles, and, seeing\r
+the prince was lying on the sofa, looked at him, noticed his perturbed\r
+face, shook his head, and going up to him silently kissed him on the\r
+shoulder and left the room without snuffing the candles or saying why he\r
+had entered. The most solemn mystery in the world continued its course.\r
+Evening passed, night came, and the feeling of suspense and softening of\r
+heart in the presence of the unfathomable did not lessen but increased.\r
+No one slept.\r
+\r
+It was one of those March nights when winter seems to wish to resume its\r
+sway and scatters its last snows and storms with desperate fury. A relay\r
+of horses had been sent up the highroad to meet the German doctor from\r
+Moscow who was expected every moment, and men on horseback with lanterns\r
+were sent to the crossroads to guide him over the country road with its\r
+hollows and snow-covered pools of water.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary had long since put aside her book: she sat silent, her\r
+luminous eyes fixed on her nurse's wrinkled face (every line of which\r
+she knew so well), on the lock of gray hair that escaped from under the\r
+kerchief, and the loose skin that hung under her chin.\r
+\r
+Nurse Savishna, knitting in hand, was telling in low tones, scarcely\r
+hearing or understanding her own words, what she had told hundreds of\r
+times before: how the late princess had given birth to Princess Mary in\r
+Kishenev with only a Moldavian peasant woman to help instead of a\r
+midwife.\r
+\r
+"God is merciful, doctors are never needed," she said.\r
+\r
+Suddenly a gust of wind beat violently against the casement of the\r
+window, from which the double frame had been removed (by order of the\r
+prince, one window frame was removed in each room as soon as the larks\r
+returned), and, forcing open a loosely closed latch, set the damask\r
+curtain flapping and blew out the candle with its chill, snowy draft.\r
+Princess Mary shuddered; her nurse, putting down the stocking she was\r
+knitting, went to the window and leaning out tried to catch the open\r
+casement. The cold wind flapped the ends of her kerchief and her loose\r
+locks of gray hair.\r
+\r
+"Princess, my dear, there's someone driving up the avenue!" she said,\r
+holding the casement and not closing it. "With lanterns. Most likely the\r
+doctor."\r
+\r
+"Oh, my God! thank God!" said Princess Mary. "I must go and meet him, he\r
+does not know Russian."\r
+\r
+Princess Mary threw a shawl over her head and ran to meet the newcomer.\r
+As she was crossing the anteroom she saw through the window a carriage\r
+with lanterns, standing at the entrance. She went out on the stairs. On\r
+a banister post stood a tallow candle which guttered in the draft. On\r
+the landing below, Philip, the footman, stood looking scared and holding\r
+another candle. Still lower, beyond the turn of the staircase, one could\r
+hear the footstep of someone in thick felt boots, and a voice that\r
+seemed familiar to Princess Mary was saying something.\r
+\r
+"Thank God!" said the voice. "And Father?"\r
+\r
+"Gone to bed," replied the voice of Demyan the house steward, who was\r
+downstairs.\r
+\r
+Then the voice said something more, Demyan replied, and the steps in the\r
+felt boots approached the unseen bend of the staircase more rapidly.\r
+\r
+"It's Andrew!" thought Princess Mary. "No it can't be, that would be too\r
+extraordinary," and at the very moment she thought this, the face and\r
+figure of Prince Andrew, in a fur cloak the deep collar of which covered\r
+with snow, appeared on the landing where the footman stood with the\r
+candle. Yes, it was he, pale, thin, with a changed and strangely\r
+softened but agitated expression on his face. He came up the stairs and\r
+embraced his sister.\r
+\r
+"You did not get my letter?" he asked, and not waiting for a reply--\r
+which he would not have received, for the princess was unable to speak--\r
+he turned back, rapidly mounted the stairs again with the doctor who had\r
+entered the hall after him (they had met at the last post station), and\r
+again embraced his sister.\r
+\r
+"What a strange fate, Masha darling!" And having taken off his cloak and\r
+felt boots, he went to the little princess' apartment.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+The little princess lay supported by pillows, with a white cap on her\r
+head (the pains had just left her). Strands of her black hair lay round\r
+her inflamed and perspiring cheeks, her charming rosy mouth with its\r
+downy lip was open and she was smiling joyfully. Prince Andrew entered\r
+and paused facing her at the foot of the sofa on which she was lying.\r
+Her glittering eyes, filled with childlike fear and excitement, rested\r
+on him without changing their expression. "I love you all and have done\r
+no harm to anyone; why must I suffer so? Help me!" her look seemed to\r
+say. She saw her husband, but did not realize the significance of his\r
+appearance before her now. Prince Andrew went round the sofa and kissed\r
+her forehead.\r
+\r
+"My darling!" he said--a word he had never used to her before. "God is\r
+merciful...."\r
+\r
+She looked at him inquiringly and with childlike reproach.\r
+\r
+"I expected help from you and I get none, none from you either!" said\r
+her eyes. She was not surprised at his having come; she did not realize\r
+that he had come. His coming had nothing to do with her sufferings or\r
+with their relief. The pangs began again and Mary Bogdanovna advised\r
+Prince Andrew to leave the room.\r
+\r
+The doctor entered. Prince Andrew went out and, meeting Princess Mary,\r
+again joined her. They began talking in whispers, but their talk broke\r
+off at every moment. They waited and listened.\r
+\r
+"Go, dear," said Princess Mary.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew went again to his wife and sat waiting in the room next to\r
+hers. A woman came from the bedroom with a frightened face and became\r
+confused when she saw Prince Andrew. He covered his face with his hands\r
+and remained so for some minutes. Piteous, helpless, animal moans came\r
+through the door. Prince Andrew got up, went to the door, and tried to\r
+open it. Someone was holding it shut.\r
+\r
+"You can't come in! You can't!" said a terrified voice from within.\r
+\r
+He began pacing the room. The screaming ceased, and a few more seconds\r
+went by. Then suddenly a terrible shriek--it could not be hers, she\r
+could not scream like that--came from the bedroom. Prince Andrew ran to\r
+the door; the scream ceased and he heard the wail of an infant.\r
+\r
+"What have they taken a baby in there for?" thought Prince Andrew in the\r
+first second. "A baby? What baby...? Why is there a baby there? Or is\r
+the baby born?"\r
+\r
+Then suddenly he realized the joyful significance of that wail; tears\r
+choked him, and leaning his elbows on the window sill be began to cry,\r
+sobbing like a child. The door opened. The doctor with his shirt sleeves\r
+tucked up, without a coat, pale and with a trembling jaw, came out of\r
+the room. Prince Andrew turned to him, but the doctor gave him a\r
+bewildered look and passed by without a word. A woman rushed out and\r
+seeing Prince Andrew stopped, hesitating on the threshold. He went into\r
+his wife's room. She was lying dead, in the same position he had seen\r
+her in five minutes before and, despite the fixed eyes and the pallor of\r
+the cheeks, the same expression was on her charming childlike face with\r
+its upper lip covered with tiny black hair.\r
+\r
+"I love you all, and have done no harm to anyone; and what have you done\r
+to me?"--said her charming, pathetic, dead face.\r
+\r
+In a corner of the room something red and tiny gave a grunt and squealed\r
+in Mary Bogdanovna's trembling white hands.\r
+\r
+Two hours later Prince Andrew, stepping softly, went into his father's\r
+room. The old man already knew everything. He was standing close to the\r
+door and as soon as it opened his rough old arms closed like a vise\r
+round his son's neck, and without a word he began to sob like a child.\r
+\r
+Three days later the little princess was buried, and Prince Andrew went\r
+up the steps to where the coffin stood, to give her the farewell kiss.\r
+And there in the coffin was the same face, though with closed eyes. "Ah,\r
+what have you done to me?" it still seemed to say, and Prince Andrew\r
+felt that something gave way in his soul and that he was guilty of a sin\r
+he could neither remedy nor forget. He could not weep. The old man too\r
+came up and kissed the waxen little hands that lay quietly crossed one\r
+on the other on her breast, and to him, too, her face seemed to say:\r
+"Ah, what have you done to me, and why?" And at the sight the old man\r
+turned angrily away.\r
+\r
+Another five days passed, and then the young Prince Nicholas Andreevich\r
+was baptized. The wet nurse supported the coverlet with her chin, while\r
+the priest with a goose feather anointed the boy's little red and\r
+wrinkled soles and palms.\r
+\r
+His grandfather, who was his godfather, trembling and afraid of dropping\r
+him, carried the infant round the battered tin font and handed him over\r
+to the godmother, Princess Mary. Prince Andrew sat in another room,\r
+faint with fear lest the baby should be drowned in the font, and awaited\r
+the termination of the ceremony. He looked up joyfully at the baby when\r
+the nurse brought it to him and nodded approval when she told him that\r
+the wax with the baby's hair had not sunk in the font but had floated.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+Rostov's share in Dolokhov's duel with Bezukhov was hushed up by the\r
+efforts of the old count, and instead of being degraded to the ranks as\r
+he expected he was appointed an adjutant to the governor general of\r
+Moscow. As a result he could not go to the country with the rest of the\r
+family, but was kept all summer in Moscow by his new duties. Dolokhov\r
+recovered, and Rostov became very friendly with him during his\r
+convalescence. Dolokhov lay ill at his mother's who loved him\r
+passionately and tenderly, and old Mary Ivanovna, who had grown fond of\r
+Rostov for his friendship to her Fedya, often talked to him about her\r
+son.\r
+\r
+"Yes, Count," she would say, "he is too noble and pure-souled for our\r
+present, depraved world. No one now loves virtue; it seems like a\r
+reproach to everyone. Now tell me, Count, was it right, was it\r
+honorable, of Bezukhov? And Fedya, with his noble spirit, loved him and\r
+even now never says a word against him. Those pranks in Petersburg when\r
+they played some tricks on a policeman, didn't they do it together? And\r
+there! Bezukhov got off scotfree, while Fedya had to bear the whole\r
+burden on his shoulders. Fancy what he had to go through! It's true he\r
+has been reinstated, but how could they fail to do that? I think there\r
+were not many such gallant sons of the fatherland out there as he. And\r
+now--this duel! Have these people no feeling, or honor? Knowing him to\r
+be an only son, to challenge him and shoot so straight! It's well God\r
+had mercy on us. And what was it for? Who doesn't have intrigues\r
+nowadays? Why, if he was so jealous, as I see things he should have\r
+shown it sooner, but he lets it go on for months. And then to call him\r
+out, reckoning on Fedya not fighting because he owed him money! What\r
+baseness! What meanness! I know you understand Fedya, my dear count;\r
+that, believe me, is why I am so fond of you. Few people do understand\r
+him. He is such a lofty, heavenly soul!"\r
+\r
+Dolokhov himself during his convalescence spoke to Rostov in a way no\r
+one would have expected of him.\r
+\r
+"I know people consider me a bad man!" he said. "Let them! I don't care\r
+a straw about anyone but those I love; but those I love, I love so that\r
+I would give my life for them, and the others I'd throttle if they stood\r
+in my way. I have an adored, a priceless mother, and two or three\r
+friends--you among them--and as for the rest I only care about them in\r
+so far as they are harmful or useful. And most of them are harmful,\r
+especially the women. Yes, dear boy," he continued, "I have met loving,\r
+noble, high-minded men, but I have not yet met any women--countesses or\r
+cooks--who were not venal. I have not yet met that divine purity and\r
+devotion I look for in women. If I found such a one I'd give my life for\r
+her! But those!..." and he made a gesture of contempt. "And believe me,\r
+if I still value my life it is only because I still hope to meet such a\r
+divine creature, who will regenerate, purify, and elevate me. But you\r
+don't understand it."\r
+\r
+"Oh, yes, I quite understand," answered Rostov, who was under his new\r
+friend's influence.\r
+\r
+In the autumn the Rostovs returned to Moscow. Early in the winter\r
+Denisov also came back and stayed with them. The first half of the\r
+winter of 1806, which Nicholas Rostov spent in Moscow, was one of the\r
+happiest, merriest times for him and the whole family. Nicholas brought\r
+many young men to his parents' house. Vera was a handsome girl of\r
+twenty; Sonya a girl of sixteen with all the charm of an opening flower;\r
+Natasha, half grown up and half child, was now childishly amusing, now\r
+girlishly enchanting.\r
+\r
+At that time in the Rostovs' house there prevailed an amorous atmosphere\r
+characteristic of homes where there are very young and very charming\r
+girls. Every young man who came to the house--seeing those\r
+impressionable, smiling young faces (smiling probably at their own\r
+happiness), feeling the eager bustle around him, and hearing the fitful\r
+bursts of song and music and the inconsequent but friendly prattle of\r
+young girls ready for anything and full of hope--experienced the same\r
+feeling; sharing with the young folk of the Rostovs' household a\r
+readiness to fall in love and an expectation of happiness.\r
+\r
+Among the young men introduced by Rostov one of the first was Dolokhov,\r
+whom everyone in the house liked except Natasha. She almost quarreled\r
+with her brother about him. She insisted that he was a bad man, and that\r
+in the duel with Bezukhov, Pierre was right and Dolokhov wrong, and\r
+further that he was disagreeable and unnatural.\r
+\r
+"There's nothing for me to understand," she cried out with resolute\r
+self-will, "he is wicked and heartless. There now, I like your Denisov\r
+though he is a rake and all that, still I like him; so you see I do\r
+understand. I don't know how to put it... with this one everything is\r
+calculated, and I don't like that. But Denisov..."\r
+\r
+"Oh, Denisov is quite different," replied Nicholas, implying that even\r
+Denisov was nothing compared to Dolokhov--"you must understand what a\r
+soul there is in Dolokhov, you should see him with his mother. What a\r
+heart!"\r
+\r
+"Well, I don't know about that, but I am uncomfortable with him. And do\r
+you know he has fallen in love with Sonya?"\r
+\r
+"What nonsense..."\r
+\r
+"I'm certain of it; you'll see."\r
+\r
+Natasha's prediction proved true. Dolokhov, who did not usually care for\r
+the society of ladies, began to come often to the house, and the\r
+question for whose sake he came (though no one spoke of it) was soon\r
+settled. He came because of Sonya. And Sonya, though she would never\r
+have dared to say so, knew it and blushed scarlet every time Dolokhov\r
+appeared.\r
+\r
+Dolokhov often dined at the Rostovs', never missed a performance at\r
+which they were present, and went to Iogel's balls for young people\r
+which the Rostovs always attended. He was pointedly attentive to Sonya\r
+and looked at her in such a way that not only could she not bear his\r
+glances without coloring, but even the old countess and Natasha blushed\r
+when they saw his looks.\r
+\r
+It was evident that this strange, strong man was under the irresistible\r
+influence of the dark, graceful girl who loved another.\r
+\r
+Rostov noticed something new in Dolokhov's relations with Sonya, but he\r
+did not explain to himself what these new relations were. "They're\r
+always in love with someone," he thought of Sonya and Natasha. But he\r
+was not as much at ease with Sonya and Dolokhov as before and was less\r
+frequently at home.\r
+\r
+In the autumn of 1806 everybody had again begun talking of the war with\r
+Napoleon with even greater warmth than the year before. Orders were\r
+given to raise recruits, ten men in every thousand for the regular army,\r
+and besides this, nine men in every thousand for the militia. Everywhere\r
+Bonaparte was anathematized and in Moscow nothing but the coming war was\r
+talked of. For the Rostov family the whole interest of these\r
+preparations for war lay in the fact that Nicholas would not hear of\r
+remaining in Moscow, and only awaited the termination of Denisov's\r
+furlough after Christmas to return with him to their regiment. His\r
+approaching departure did not prevent his amusing himself, but rather\r
+gave zest to his pleasures. He spent the greater part of his time away\r
+from home, at dinners, parties, and balls.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+On the third day after Christmas Nicholas dined at home, a thing he had\r
+rarely done of late. It was a grand farewell dinner, as he and Denisov\r
+were leaving to join their regiment after Epiphany. About twenty people\r
+were present, including Dolokhov and Denisov.\r
+\r
+Never had love been so much in the air, and never had the amorous\r
+atmosphere made itself so strongly felt in the Rostovs' house as at this\r
+holiday time. "Seize the moments of happiness, love and be loved! That\r
+is the only reality in the world, all else is folly. It is the one thing\r
+we are interested in here," said the spirit of the place.\r
+\r
+Nicholas, having as usual exhausted two pairs of horses, without\r
+visiting all the places he meant to go to and where he had been invited,\r
+returned home just before dinner. As soon as he entered he noticed and\r
+felt the tension of the amorous air in the house, and also noticed a\r
+curious embarrassment among some of those present. Sonya, Dolokhov, and\r
+the old countess were especially disturbed, and to a lesser degree\r
+Natasha. Nicholas understood that something must have happened between\r
+Sonya and Dolokhov before dinner, and with the kindly sensitiveness\r
+natural to him was very gentle and wary with them both at dinner. On\r
+that same evening there was to be one of the balls that Iogel (the\r
+dancing master) gave for his pupils during the holidays.\r
+\r
+"Nicholas, will you come to Iogel's? Please do!" said Natasha. "He asked\r
+you, and Vasili Dmitrich * is also going."\r
+\r
+\r
+* Denisov.\r
+\r
+"Where would I not go at the countess' command!" said Denisov, who at\r
+the Rostovs' had jocularly assumed the role of Natasha's knight. "I'm\r
+even weady to dance the pas de chale."\r
+\r
+"If I have time," answered Nicholas. "But I promised the Arkharovs; they\r
+have a party."\r
+\r
+"And you?" he asked Dolokhov, but as soon as he had asked the question\r
+he noticed that it should not have been put.\r
+\r
+"Perhaps," coldly and angrily replied Dolokhov, glancing at Sonya, and,\r
+scowling, he gave Nicholas just such a look as he had given Pierre at\r
+the club dinner.\r
+\r
+"There is something up," thought Nicholas, and he was further confirmed\r
+in this conclusion by the fact that Dolokhov left immediately after\r
+dinner. He called Natasha and asked her what was the matter.\r
+\r
+"And I was looking for you," said Natasha running out to him. "I told\r
+you, but you would not believe it," she said triumphantly. "He has\r
+proposed to Sonya!"\r
+\r
+Little as Nicholas had occupied himself with Sonya of late, something\r
+seemed to give way within him at this news. Dolokhov was a suitable and\r
+in some respects a brilliant match for the dowerless, orphan girl. From\r
+the point of view of the old countess and of society it was out of the\r
+question for her to refuse him. And therefore Nicholas' first feeling on\r
+hearing the news was one of anger with Sonya.... He tried to say,\r
+"That's capital; of course she'll forget her childish promises and\r
+accept the offer," but before he had time to say it Natasha began again.\r
+\r
+"And fancy! she refused him quite definitely!" adding, after a pause,\r
+"she told him she loved another."\r
+\r
+"Yes, my Sonya could not have done otherwise!" thought Nicholas.\r
+\r
+"Much as Mamma pressed her, she refused, and I know she won't change\r
+once she has said..."\r
+\r
+"And Mamma pressed her!" said Nicholas reproachfully.\r
+\r
+"Yes," said Natasha. "Do you know, Nicholas--don't be angry--but I know\r
+you will not marry her. I know, heaven knows how, but I know for certain\r
+that you won't marry her."\r
+\r
+"Now you don't know that at all!" said Nicholas. "But I must talk to\r
+her. What a darling Sonya is!" he added with a smile.\r
+\r
+"Ah, she is indeed a darling! I'll send her to you."\r
+\r
+And Natasha kissed her brother and ran away.\r
+\r
+A minute later Sonya came in with a frightened, guilty, and scared look.\r
+Nicholas went up to her and kissed her hand. This was the first time\r
+since his return that they had talked alone and about their love.\r
+\r
+"Sophie," he began, timidly at first and then more and more boldly, "if\r
+you wish to refuse one who is not only a brilliant and advantageous\r
+match but a splendid, noble fellow... he is my friend..."\r
+\r
+Sonya interrupted him.\r
+\r
+"I have already refused," she said hurriedly.\r
+\r
+"If you are refusing for my sake, I am afraid that I..."\r
+\r
+Sonya again interrupted. She gave him an imploring, frightened look.\r
+\r
+"Nicholas, don't tell me that!" she said.\r
+\r
+"No, but I must. It may be arrogant of me, but still it is best to say\r
+it. If you refuse him on my account, I must tell you the whole truth. I\r
+love you, and I think I love you more than anyone else...."\r
+\r
+"That is enough for me," said Sonya, blushing.\r
+\r
+"No, but I have been in love a thousand times and shall fall in love\r
+again, though for no one have I such a feeling of friendship,\r
+confidence, and love as I have for you. Then I am young. Mamma does not\r
+wish it. In a word, I make no promise. And I beg you to consider\r
+Dolokhov's offer," he said, articulating his friend's name with\r
+difficulty.\r
+\r
+"Don't say that to me! I want nothing. I love you as a brother and\r
+always shall, and I want nothing more."\r
+\r
+"You are an angel: I am not worthy of you, but I am afraid of misleading\r
+you."\r
+\r
+And Nicholas again kissed her hand.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+Iogel's were the most enjoyable balls in Moscow. So said the mothers as\r
+they watched their young people executing their newly learned steps, and\r
+so said the youths and maidens themselves as they danced till they were\r
+ready to drop, and so said the grown-up young men and women who came to\r
+these balls with an air of condescension and found them most enjoyable.\r
+That year two marriages had come of these balls. The two pretty young\r
+Princesses Gorchakov met suitors there and were married and so further\r
+increased the fame of these dances. What distinguished them from others\r
+was the absence of host or hostess and the presence of the good-natured\r
+Iogel, flying about like a feather and bowing according to the rules of\r
+his art, as he collected the tickets from all his visitors. There was\r
+the fact that only those came who wished to dance and amuse themselves\r
+as girls of thirteen and fourteen do who are wearing long dresses for\r
+the first time. With scarcely any exceptions they all were, or seemed to\r
+be, pretty--so rapturous were their smiles and so sparkling their eyes.\r
+Sometimes the best of the pupils, of whom Natasha, who was exceptionally\r
+graceful, was first, even danced the pas de chale, but at this last ball\r
+only the ecossaise, the anglaise, and the mazurka, which was just coming\r
+into fashion, were danced. Iogel had taken a ballroom in Bezukhov's\r
+house, and the ball, as everyone said, was a great success. There were\r
+many pretty girls and the Rostov girls were among the prettiest. They\r
+were both particularly happy and gay. That evening, proud of Dolokhov's\r
+proposal, her refusal, and her explanation with Nicholas, Sonya twirled\r
+about before she left home so that the maid could hardly get her hair\r
+plaited, and she was transparently radiant with impulsive joy.\r
+\r
+Natasha no less proud of her first long dress and of being at a real\r
+ball was even happier. They were both dressed in white muslin with pink\r
+ribbons.\r
+\r
+Natasha fell in love the very moment she entered the ballroom. She was\r
+not in love with anyone in particular, but with everyone. Whatever\r
+person she happened to look at she was in love with for that moment.\r
+\r
+"Oh, how delightful it is!" she kept saying, running up to Sonya.\r
+\r
+Nicholas and Denisov were walking up and down, looking with kindly\r
+patronage at the dancers.\r
+\r
+"How sweet she is--she will be a weal beauty!" said Denisov.\r
+\r
+"Who?"\r
+\r
+"Countess Natasha," answered Denisov.\r
+\r
+"And how she dances! What gwace!" he said again after a pause.\r
+\r
+"Who are you talking about?"\r
+\r
+"About your sister," ejaculated Denisov testily.\r
+\r
+Rostov smiled.\r
+\r
+"My dear count, you were one of my best pupils--you must dance," said\r
+little Iogel coming up to Nicholas. "Look how many charming young\r
+ladies-" He turned with the same request to Denisov who was also a\r
+former pupil of his.\r
+\r
+"No, my dear fellow, I'll be a wallflower," said Denisov. "Don't you\r
+wecollect what bad use I made of your lessons?"\r
+\r
+\r
+"Oh no!" said Iogel, hastening to reassure him. "You were only\r
+inattentive, but you had talent--oh yes, you had talent!"\r
+\r
+The band struck up the newly introduced mazurka. Nicholas could not\r
+refuse Iogel and asked Sonya to dance. Denisov sat down by the old\r
+ladies and, leaning on his saber and beating time with his foot, told\r
+them something funny and kept them amused, while he watched the young\r
+people dancing, Iogel with Natasha, his pride and his best pupil, were\r
+the first couple. Noiselessly, skillfully stepping with his little feet\r
+in low shoes, Iogel flew first across the hall with Natasha, who, though\r
+shy, went on carefully executing her steps. Denisov did not take his\r
+eyes off her and beat time with his saber in a way that clearly\r
+indicated that if he was not dancing it was because he would not and not\r
+because he could not. In the middle of a figure he beckoned to Rostov\r
+who was passing:\r
+\r
+"This is not at all the thing," he said. "What sort of Polish mazuwka is\r
+this? But she does dance splendidly."\r
+\r
+Knowing that Denisov had a reputation even in Poland for the masterly\r
+way in which he danced the mazurka, Nicholas ran up to Natasha:\r
+\r
+"Go and choose Denisov. He is a real dancer, a wonder!" he said.\r
+\r
+When it came to Natasha's turn to choose a partner, she rose and,\r
+tripping rapidly across in her little shoes trimmed with bows, ran\r
+timidly to the corner where Denisov sat. She saw that everybody was\r
+looking at her and waiting. Nicholas saw that Denisov was refusing\r
+though he smiled delightedly. He ran up to them.\r
+\r
+"Please, Vasili Dmitrich," Natasha was saying, "do come!"\r
+\r
+"Oh no, let me off, Countess," Denisov replied.\r
+\r
+"Now then, Vaska," said Nicholas.\r
+\r
+"They coax me as if I were Vaska the cat!" said Denisov jokingly.\r
+\r
+"I'll sing for you a whole evening," said Natasha.\r
+\r
+"Oh, the faiwy! She can do anything with me!" said Denisov, and he\r
+unhooked his saber. He came out from behind the chairs, clasped his\r
+partner's hand firmly, threw back his head, and advanced his foot,\r
+waiting for the beat. Only on horse back and in the mazurka was\r
+Denisov's short stature not noticeable and he looked the fine fellow he\r
+felt himself to be. At the right beat of the music he looked sideways at\r
+his partner with a merry and triumphant air, suddenly stamped with one\r
+foot, bounded from the floor like a ball, and flew round the room taking\r
+his partner with him. He glided silently on one foot half across the\r
+room, and seeming not to notice the chairs was dashing straight at them,\r
+when suddenly, clinking his spurs and spreading out his legs, he stopped\r
+short on his heels, stood so a second, stamped on the spot clanking his\r
+spurs, whirled rapidly round, and, striking his left heel against his\r
+right, flew round again in a circle. Natasha guessed what he meant to\r
+do, and abandoning herself to him followed his lead hardly knowing how.\r
+First he spun her round, holding her now with his left, now with his\r
+right hand, then falling on one knee he twirled her round him, and again\r
+jumping up, dashed so impetuously forward that it seemed as if he would\r
+rush through the whole suite of rooms without drawing breath, and then\r
+he suddenly stopped and performed some new and unexpected steps. When at\r
+last, smartly whirling his partner round in front of her chair, he drew\r
+up with a click of his spurs and bowed to her, Natasha did not even make\r
+him a curtsy. She fixed her eyes on him in amazement, smiling as if she\r
+did not recognize him.\r
+\r
+"What does this mean?" she brought out.\r
+\r
+Although Iogel did not acknowledge this to be the real mazurka, everyone\r
+was delighted with Denisov's skill, he was asked again and again as a\r
+partner, and the old men began smilingly to talk about Poland and the\r
+good old days. Denisov, flushed after the mazurka and mopping himself\r
+with his handkerchief, sat down by Natasha and did not leave her for the\r
+rest of the evening.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIII\r
+\r
+For two days after that Rostov did not see Dolokhov at his own or at\r
+Dolokhov's home: on the third day he received a note from him:\r
+\r
+As I do not intend to be at your house again for reasons you know of,\r
+and am going to rejoin my regiment, I am giving a farewell supper\r
+tonight to my friends--come to the English Hotel.\r
+\r
+About ten o'clock Rostov went to the English Hotel straight from the\r
+theater, where he had been with his family and Denisov. He was at once\r
+shown to the best room, which Dolokhov had taken for that evening. Some\r
+twenty men were gathered round a table at which Dolokhov sat between two\r
+candles. On the table was a pile of gold and paper money, and he was\r
+keeping the bank. Rostov had not seen him since his proposal and Sonya's\r
+refusal and felt uncomfortable at the thought of how they would meet.\r
+\r
+Dolokhov's clear, cold glance met Rostov as soon as he entered the door,\r
+as though he had long expected him.\r
+\r
+"It's a long time since we met," he said. "Thanks for coming. I'll just\r
+finish dealing, and then Ilyushka will come with his chorus."\r
+\r
+"I called once or twice at your house," said Rostov, reddening.\r
+\r
+Dolokhov made no reply.\r
+\r
+"You may punt," he said.\r
+\r
+Rostov recalled at that moment a strange conversation he had once had\r
+with Dolokhov. "None but fools trust to luck in play," Dolokhov had then\r
+said.\r
+\r
+"Or are you afraid to play with me?" Dolokhov now asked as if guessing\r
+Rostov's thought.\r
+\r
+Beneath his smile Rostov saw in him the mood he had shown at the club\r
+dinner and at other times, when as if tired of everyday life he had felt\r
+a need to escape from it by some strange, and usually cruel, action.\r
+\r
+Rostov felt ill at ease. He tried, but failed, to find some joke with\r
+which to reply to Dolokhov's words. But before he had thought of\r
+anything, Dolokhov, looking straight in his face, said slowly and\r
+deliberately so that everyone could hear:\r
+\r
+"Do you remember we had a talk about cards... 'He's a fool who trusts to\r
+luck, one should make certain,' and I want to try."\r
+\r
+"To try his luck or the certainty?" Rostov asked himself.\r
+\r
+"Well, you'd better not play," Dolokhov added, and springing a new pack\r
+of cards said: "Bank, gentlemen!"\r
+\r
+Moving the money forward he prepared to deal. Rostov sat down by his\r
+side and at first did not play. Dolokhov kept glancing at him.\r
+\r
+"Why don't you play?" he asked.\r
+\r
+And strange to say Nicholas felt that he could not help taking up a\r
+card, putting a small stake on it, and beginning to play.\r
+\r
+"I have no money with me," he said.\r
+\r
+"I'll trust you."\r
+\r
+Rostov staked five rubles on a card and lost, staked again, and again\r
+lost. Dolokhov "killed," that is, beat, ten cards of Rostov's running.\r
+\r
+"Gentlemen," said Dolokhov after he had dealt for some time. "Please\r
+place your money on the cards or I may get muddled in the reckoning."\r
+\r
+One of the players said he hoped he might be trusted.\r
+\r
+"Yes, you might, but I am afraid of getting the accounts mixed. So I ask\r
+you to put the money on your cards," replied Dolokhov. "Don't stint\r
+yourself, we'll settle afterwards," he added, turning to Rostov.\r
+\r
+The game continued; a waiter kept handing round champagne.\r
+\r
+All Rostov's cards were beaten and he had eight hundred rubles scored up\r
+against him. He wrote "800 rubles" on a card, but while the waiter\r
+filled his glass he changed his mind and altered it to his usual stake\r
+of twenty rubles.\r
+\r
+"Leave it," said Dolokhov, though he did not seem to be even looking at\r
+Rostov, "you'll win it back all the sooner. I lose to the others but win\r
+from you. Or are you afraid of me?" he asked again.\r
+\r
+Rostov submitted. He let the eight hundred remain and laid down a seven\r
+of hearts with a torn corner, which he had picked up from the floor. He\r
+well remembered that seven afterwards. He laid down the seven of hearts,\r
+on which with a broken bit of chalk he had written "800 rubles" in clear\r
+upright figures; he emptied the glass of warm champagne that was handed\r
+him, smiled at Dolokhov's words, and with a sinking heart, waiting for a\r
+seven to turn up, gazed at Dolokhov's hands which held the pack. Much\r
+depended on Rostov's winning or losing on that seven of hearts. On the\r
+previous Sunday the old count had given his son two thousand rubles, and\r
+though he always disliked speaking of money difficulties had told\r
+Nicholas that this was all he could let him have till May, and asked him\r
+to be more economical this time. Nicholas had replied that it would be\r
+more than enough for him and that he gave his word of honor not to take\r
+anything more till the spring. Now only twelve hundred rubles was left\r
+of that money, so that this seven of hearts meant for him not only the\r
+loss of sixteen hundred rubles, but the necessity of going back on his\r
+word. With a sinking heart he watched Dolokhov's hands and thought, "Now\r
+then, make haste and let me have this card and I'll take my cap and\r
+drive home to supper with Denisov, Natasha, and Sonya, and will\r
+certainly never touch a card again." At that moment his home life, jokes\r
+with Petya, talks with Sonya, duets with Natasha, piquet with his\r
+father, and even his comfortable bed in the house on the Povarskaya rose\r
+before him with such vividness, clearness, and charm that it seemed as\r
+if it were all a lost and unappreciated bliss, long past. He could not\r
+conceive that a stupid chance, letting the seven be dealt to the right\r
+rather than to the left, might deprive him of all this happiness, newly\r
+appreciated and newly illumined, and plunge him into the depths of\r
+unknown and undefined misery. That could not be, yet he awaited with a\r
+sinking heart the movement of Dolokhov's hands. Those broad, reddish\r
+hands, with hairy wrists visible from under the shirt cuffs, laid down\r
+the pack and took up a glass and a pipe that were handed him.\r
+\r
+"So you are not afraid to play with me?" repeated Dolokhov, and as if\r
+about to tell a good story he put down the cards, leaned back in his\r
+chair, and began deliberately with a smile:\r
+\r
+"Yes, gentlemen, I've been told there's a rumor going about Moscow that\r
+I'm a sharper, so I advise you to be careful."\r
+\r
+"Come now, deal!" exclaimed Rostov.\r
+\r
+"Oh, those Moscow gossips!" said Dolokhov, and he took up the cards with\r
+a smile.\r
+\r
+"Aah!" Rostov almost screamed lifting both hands to his head. The seven\r
+he needed was lying uppermost, the first card in the pack. He had lost\r
+more than he could pay.\r
+\r
+"Still, don't ruin yourself!" said Dolokhov with a side glance at Rostov\r
+as he continued to deal.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIV\r
+\r
+An hour and a half later most of the players were but little interested\r
+in their own play.\r
+\r
+The whole interest was concentrated on Rostov. Instead of sixteen\r
+hundred rubles he had a long column of figures scored against him, which\r
+he had reckoned up to ten thousand, but that now, as he vaguely\r
+supposed, must have risen to fifteen thousand. In reality it already\r
+exceeded twenty thousand rubles. Dolokhov was no longer listening to\r
+stories or telling them, but followed every movement of Rostov's hands\r
+and occasionally ran his eyes over the score against him. He had decided\r
+to play until that score reached forty-three thousand. He had fixed on\r
+that number because forty-three was the sum of his and Sonya's joint\r
+ages. Rostov, leaning his head on both hands, sat at the table which was\r
+scrawled over with figures, wet with spilled wine, and littered with\r
+cards. One tormenting impression did not leave him: that those broad-\r
+boned reddish hands with hairy wrists visible from under the shirt\r
+sleeves, those hands which he loved and hated, held him in their power.\r
+\r
+"Six hundred rubles, ace, a corner, a nine... winning it back's\r
+impossible... Oh, how pleasant it was at home!... The knave, double or\r
+quits... it can't be!... And why is he doing this to me?" Rostov\r
+pondered. Sometimes he staked a large sum, but Dolokhov refused to\r
+accept it and fixed the stake himself. Nicholas submitted to him, and at\r
+one moment prayed to God as he had done on the battlefield at the bridge\r
+over the Enns, and then guessed that the card that came first to hand\r
+from the crumpled heap under the table would save him, now counted the\r
+cords on his coat and took a card with that number and tried staking the\r
+total of his losses on it, then he looked round for aid from the other\r
+players, or peered at the now cold face of Dolokhov and tried to read\r
+what was passing in his mind.\r
+\r
+"He knows of course what this loss means to me. He can't want my ruin.\r
+Wasn't he my friend? Wasn't I fond of him? But it's not his fault.\r
+What's he to do if he has such luck?... And it's not my fault either,"\r
+he thought to himself, "I have done nothing wrong. Have I killed anyone,\r
+or insulted or wished harm to anyone? Why such a terrible misfortune?\r
+And when did it begin? Such a little while ago I came to this table with\r
+the thought of winning a hundred rubles to buy that casket for Mamma's\r
+name day and then going home. I was so happy, so free, so lighthearted!\r
+And I did not realize how happy I was! When did that end and when did\r
+this new, terrible state of things begin? What marked the change? I sat\r
+all the time in this same place at this table, chose and placed cards,\r
+and watched those broad-boned agile hands in the same way. When did it\r
+happen and what has happened? I am well and strong and still the same\r
+and in the same place. No, it can't be! Surely it will all end in\r
+nothing!"\r
+\r
+He was flushed and bathed in perspiration, though the room was not hot.\r
+His face was terrible and piteous to see, especially from its helpless\r
+efforts to seem calm.\r
+\r
+The score against him reached the fateful sum of forty-three thousand.\r
+Rostov had just prepared a card, by bending the corner of which he meant\r
+to double the three thousand just put down to his score, when Dolokhov,\r
+slamming down the pack of cards, put it aside and began rapidly adding\r
+up the total of Rostov's debt, breaking the chalk as he marked the\r
+figures in his clear, bold hand.\r
+\r
+"Supper, it's time for supper! And here are the gypsies!"\r
+\r
+Some swarthy men and women were really entering from the cold outside\r
+and saying something in their gypsy accents. Nicholas understood that it\r
+was all over; but he said in an indifferent tone:\r
+\r
+"Well, won't you go on? I had a splendid card all ready," as if it were\r
+the fun of the game which interested him most.\r
+\r
+"It's all up! I'm lost!" thought he. "Now a bullet through my brain--\r
+that's all that's left me!" And at the same time he said in a cheerful\r
+voice:\r
+\r
+"Come now, just this one more little card!"\r
+\r
+"All right!" said Dolokhov, having finished the addition. "All right!\r
+Twenty-one rubles," he said, pointing to the figure twenty-one by which\r
+the total exceeded the round sum of forty-three thousand; and taking up\r
+a pack he prepared to deal. Rostov submissively unbent the corner of his\r
+card and, instead of the six thousand he had intended, carefully wrote\r
+twenty-one.\r
+\r
+"It's all the same to me," he said. "I only want to see whether you will\r
+let me win this ten, or beat it."\r
+\r
+Dolokhov began to deal seriously. Oh, how Rostov detested at that moment\r
+those hands with their short reddish fingers and hairy wrists, which\r
+held him in their power.... The ten fell to him.\r
+\r
+"You owe forty-three thousand, Count," said Dolokhov, and stretching\r
+himself he rose from the table. "One does get tired sitting so long," he\r
+added.\r
+\r
+"Yes, I'm tired too," said Rostov.\r
+\r
+Dolokhov cut him short, as if to remind him that it was not for him to\r
+jest.\r
+\r
+"When am I to receive the money, Count?"\r
+\r
+Rostov, flushing, drew Dolokhov into the next room.\r
+\r
+"I cannot pay it all immediately. Will you take an I.O.U.?" he said.\r
+\r
+"I say, Rostov," said Dolokhov clearly, smiling and looking Nicholas\r
+straight in the eyes, "you know the saying, 'Lucky in love, unlucky at\r
+cards.' Your cousin is in love with you, I know."\r
+\r
+"Oh, it's terrible to feel oneself so in this man's power," thought\r
+Rostov. He knew what a shock he would inflict on his father and mother\r
+by the news of this loss, he knew what a relief it would be to escape it\r
+all, and felt that Dolokhov knew that he could save him from all this\r
+shame and sorrow, but wanted now to play with him as a cat does with a\r
+mouse.\r
+\r
+"Your cousin..." Dolokhov started to say, but Nicholas interrupted him.\r
+\r
+"My cousin has nothing to do with this and it's not necessary to mention\r
+her!" he exclaimed fiercely.\r
+\r
+"Then when am I to have it?"\r
+\r
+"Tomorrow," replied Rostov and left the room.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XV\r
+\r
+To say "tomorrow" and keep up a dignified tone was not difficult, but to\r
+go home alone, see his sisters, brother, mother, and father, confess and\r
+ask for money he had no right to after giving his word of honor, was\r
+terrible.\r
+\r
+At home, they had not yet gone to bed. The young people, after returning\r
+from the theater, had had supper and were grouped round the clavichord.\r
+As soon as Nicholas entered, he was enfolded in that poetic atmosphere\r
+of love which pervaded the Rostov household that winter and, now after\r
+Dolokhov's proposal and Iogel's ball, seemed to have grown thicker round\r
+Sonya and Natasha as the air does before a thunderstorm. Sonya and\r
+Natasha, in the light-blue dresses they had worn at the theater, looking\r
+pretty and conscious of it, were standing by the clavichord, happy and\r
+smiling. Vera was playing chess with Shinshin in the drawing room. The\r
+old countess, waiting for the return of her husband and son, sat playing\r
+patience with the old gentlewoman who lived in their house. Denisov,\r
+with sparkling eyes and ruffled hair, sat at the clavichord striking\r
+chords with his short fingers, his legs thrown back and his eyes rolling\r
+as he sang, with his small, husky, but true voice, some verses called\r
+"Enchantress," which he had composed, and to which he was trying to fit\r
+music:\r
+\r
+\r
+Enchantress, say, to my forsaken lyre What magic power is this recalls\r
+me still? What spark has set my inmost soul on fire, What is this bliss\r
+that makes my fingers thrill?\r
+\r
+He was singing in passionate tones, gazing with his sparkling black-\r
+agate eyes at the frightened and happy Natasha.\r
+\r
+"Splendid! Excellent!" exclaimed Natasha. "Another verse," she said,\r
+without noticing Nicholas.\r
+\r
+"Everything's still the same with them," thought Nicholas, glancing into\r
+the drawing room, where he saw Vera and his mother with the old lady.\r
+\r
+"Ah, and here's Nicholas!" cried Natasha, running up to him.\r
+\r
+"Is Papa at home?" he asked.\r
+\r
+"I am so glad you've come!" said Natasha, without answering him. "We are\r
+enjoying ourselves! Vasili Dmitrich is staying a day longer for my sake!\r
+Did you know?"\r
+\r
+"No, Papa is not back yet," said Sonya.\r
+\r
+"Nicholas, have you come? Come here, dear!" called the old countess from\r
+the drawing room.\r
+\r
+Nicholas went to her, kissed her hand, and sitting down silently at her\r
+table began to watch her hands arranging the cards. From the dancing\r
+room, they still heard the laughter and merry voices trying to persuade\r
+Natasha to sing.\r
+\r
+"All wight! All wight!" shouted Denisov. "It's no good making excuses\r
+now! It's your turn to sing the ba'cawolla--I entweat you!"\r
+\r
+The countess glanced at her silent son.\r
+\r
+"What is the matter?" she asked.\r
+\r
+"Oh, nothing," said he, as if weary of being continually asked the same\r
+question. "Will Papa be back soon?"\r
+\r
+"I expect so."\r
+\r
+"Everything's the same with them. They know nothing about it! Where am I\r
+to go?" thought Nicholas, and went again into the dancing room where the\r
+clavichord stood.\r
+\r
+Sonya was sitting at the clavichord, playing the prelude to Denisov's\r
+favorite barcarolle. Natasha was preparing to sing. Denisov was looking\r
+at her with enraptured eyes.\r
+\r
+Nicholas began pacing up and down the room.\r
+\r
+"Why do they want to make her sing? How can she sing? There's nothing to\r
+be happy about!" thought he.\r
+\r
+Sonya struck the first chord of the prelude.\r
+\r
+"My God, I'm a ruined and dishonored man! A bullet through my brain is\r
+the only thing left me--not singing!" his thoughts ran on. "Go away? But\r
+where to? It's one--let them sing!"\r
+\r
+He continued to pace the room, looking gloomily at Denisov and the girls\r
+and avoiding their eyes.\r
+\r
+"Nikolenka, what is the matter?" Sonya's eyes fixed on him seemed to\r
+ask. She noticed at once that something had happened to him.\r
+\r
+Nicholas turned away from her. Natasha too, with her quick instinct, had\r
+instantly noticed her brother's condition. But, though she noticed it,\r
+she was herself in such high spirits at that moment, so far from sorrow,\r
+sadness, or self-reproach, that she purposely deceived herself as young\r
+people often do. "No, I am too happy now to spoil my enjoyment by\r
+sympathy with anyone's sorrow," she felt, and she said to herself: "No,\r
+I must be mistaken, he must be feeling happy, just as I am."\r
+\r
+"Now, Sonya!" she said, going to the very middle of the room, where she\r
+considered the resonance was best.\r
+\r
+Having lifted her head and let her arms droop lifelessly, as ballet\r
+dancers do, Natasha, rising energetically from her heels to her toes,\r
+stepped to the middle of the room and stood still.\r
+\r
+"Yes, that's me!" she seemed to say, answering the rapt gaze with which\r
+Denisov followed her.\r
+\r
+"And what is she so pleased about?" thought Nicholas, looking at his\r
+sister. "Why isn't she dull and ashamed?"\r
+\r
+Natasha took the first note, her throat swelled, her chest rose, her\r
+eyes became serious. At that moment she was oblivious of her\r
+surroundings, and from her smiling lips flowed sounds which anyone may\r
+produce at the same intervals and hold for the same time, but which\r
+leave you cold a thousand times and the thousand and first time thrill\r
+you and make you weep.\r
+\r
+Natasha, that winter, had for the first time begun to sing seriously,\r
+mainly because Denisov so delighted in her singing. She no longer sang\r
+as a child, there was no longer in her singing that comical, childish,\r
+painstaking effect that had been in it before; but she did not yet sing\r
+well, as all the connoisseurs who heard her said: "It is not trained,\r
+but it is a beautiful voice that must be trained." Only they generally\r
+said this some time after she had finished singing. While that untrained\r
+voice, with its incorrect breathing and labored transitions, was\r
+sounding, even the connoisseurs said nothing, but only delighted in it\r
+and wished to hear it again. In her voice there was a virginal\r
+freshness, an unconsciousness of her own powers, and an as yet untrained\r
+velvety softness, which so mingled with her lack of art in singing that\r
+it seemed as if nothing in that voice could be altered without spoiling\r
+it.\r
+\r
+"What is this?" thought Nicholas, listening to her with widely opened\r
+eyes. "What has happened to her? How she is singing today!" And suddenly\r
+the whole world centered for him on anticipation of the next note, the\r
+next phrase, and everything in the world was divided into three beats:\r
+"Oh mio crudele affetto."... One, two, three... one, two, three...\r
+One... "Oh mio crudele affetto."... One, two, three... One. "Oh, this\r
+senseless life of ours!" thought Nicholas. "All this misery, and money,\r
+and Dolokhov, and anger, and honor--it's all nonsense... but this is\r
+real.... Now then, Natasha, now then, dearest! Now then, darling! How\r
+will she take that si? She's taken it! Thank God!" And without noticing\r
+that he was singing, to strengthen the si he sung a second, a third\r
+below the high note. "Ah, God! How fine! Did I really take it? How\r
+fortunate!" he thought.\r
+\r
+Oh, how that chord vibrated, and how moved was something that was finest\r
+in Rostov's soul! And this something was apart from everything else in\r
+the world and above everything in the world. "What were losses, and\r
+Dolokhov, and words of honor?... All nonsense! One might kill and rob\r
+and yet be happy..."\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVI\r
+\r
+It was long since Rostov had felt such enjoyment from music as he did\r
+that day. But no sooner had Natasha finished her barcarolle than reality\r
+again presented itself. He got up without saying a word and went\r
+downstairs to his own room. A quarter of an hour later the old count\r
+came in from his club, cheerful and contented. Nicholas, hearing him\r
+drive up, went to meet him.\r
+\r
+"Well--had a good time?" said the old count, smiling gaily and proudly\r
+at his son.\r
+\r
+Nicholas tried to say "Yes," but could not: and he nearly burst into\r
+sobs. The count was lighting his pipe and did not notice his son's\r
+condition.\r
+\r
+"Ah, it can't be avoided!" thought Nicholas, for the first and last\r
+time. And suddenly, in the most casual tone, which made him feel ashamed\r
+of himself, he said, as if merely asking his father to let him have the\r
+carriage to drive to town:\r
+\r
+"Papa, I have come on a matter of business. I was nearly forgetting. I\r
+need some money."\r
+\r
+"Dear me!" said his father, who was in a specially good humor. "I told\r
+you it would not be enough. How much?"\r
+\r
+"Very much," said Nicholas flushing, and with a stupid careless smile,\r
+for which he was long unable to forgive himself, "I have lost a little,\r
+I mean a good deal, a great deal--forty three thousand."\r
+\r
+"What! To whom?... Nonsense!" cried the count, suddenly reddening with\r
+an apoplectic flush over neck and nape as old people do.\r
+\r
+"I promised to pay tomorrow," said Nicholas.\r
+\r
+"Well!..." said the old count, spreading out his arms and sinking\r
+helplessly on the sofa.\r
+\r
+"It can't be helped It happens to everyone!" said the son, with a bold,\r
+free, and easy tone, while in his soul he regarded himself as a\r
+worthless scoundrel whose whole life could not atone for his crime. He\r
+longed to kiss his father's hands and kneel to beg his forgiveness, but\r
+said, in a careless and even rude voice, that it happens to everyone!\r
+\r
+The old count cast down his eyes on hearing his son's words and began\r
+bustlingly searching for something.\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes," he muttered, "it will be difficult, I fear, difficult to\r
+raise... happens to everybody! Yes, who has not done it?"\r
+\r
+And with a furtive glance at his son's face, the count went out of the\r
+room.... Nicholas had been prepared for resistance, but had not at all\r
+expected this.\r
+\r
+"Papa! Pa-pa!" he called after him, sobbing, "forgive me!" And seizing\r
+his father's hand, he pressed it to his lips and burst into tears.\r
+\r
+While father and son were having their explanation, the mother and\r
+daughter were having one not less important. Natasha came running to her\r
+mother, quite excited.\r
+\r
+"Mamma!... Mamma!... He has made me..."\r
+\r
+"Made what?"\r
+\r
+"Made, made me an offer, Mamma! Mamma!" she exclaimed.\r
+\r
+The countess did not believe her ears. Denisov had proposed. To whom? To\r
+this chit of a girl, Natasha, who not so long ago was playing with dolls\r
+and who was still having lessons.\r
+\r
+"Don't, Natasha! What nonsense!" she said, hoping it was a joke.\r
+\r
+"Nonsense, indeed! I am telling you the fact," said Natasha indignantly.\r
+"I come to ask you what to do, and you call it 'nonsense!'"\r
+\r
+The countess shrugged her shoulders.\r
+\r
+"If it is true that Monsieur Denisov has made you a proposal, tell him\r
+he is a fool, that's all!"\r
+\r
+"No, he's not a fool!" replied Natasha indignantly and seriously.\r
+\r
+"Well then, what do you want? You're all in love nowadays. Well, if you\r
+are in love, marry him!" said the countess, with a laugh of annoyance.\r
+"Good luck to you!"\r
+\r
+"No, Mamma, I'm not in love with him, I suppose I'm not in love with\r
+him."\r
+\r
+"Well then, tell him so."\r
+\r
+"Mamma, are you cross? Don't be cross, dear! Is it my fault?"\r
+\r
+"No, but what is it, my dear? Do you want me to go and tell him?" said\r
+the countess smiling.\r
+\r
+"No, I will do it myself, only tell me what to say. It's all very well\r
+for you," said Natasha, with a responsive smile. "You should have seen\r
+how he said it! I know he did not mean to say it, but it came out\r
+accidently."\r
+\r
+"Well, all the same, you must refuse him."\r
+\r
+"No, I mustn't. I am so sorry for him! He's so nice."\r
+\r
+"Well then, accept his offer. It's high time for you to be married,"\r
+answered the countess sharply and sarcastically.\r
+\r
+"No, Mamma, but I'm so sorry for him. I don't know how I'm to say it."\r
+\r
+"And there's nothing for you to say. I shall speak to him myself," said\r
+the countess, indignant that they should have dared to treat this little\r
+Natasha as grown up.\r
+\r
+"No, not on any account! I will tell him myself, and you'll listen at\r
+the door," and Natasha ran across the drawing room to the dancing hall,\r
+where Denisov was sitting on the same chair by the clavichord with his\r
+face in his hands.\r
+\r
+He jumped up at the sound of her light step.\r
+\r
+"Nataly," he said, moving with rapid steps toward her, "decide my fate.\r
+It is in your hands."\r
+\r
+"Vasili Dmitrich, I'm so sorry for you!... No, but you are so nice...\r
+but it won't do...not that... but as a friend, I shall always love you."\r
+\r
+Denisov bent over her hand and she heard strange sounds she did not\r
+understand. She kissed his rough curly black head. At this instant, they\r
+heard the quick rustle of the countess' dress. She came up to them.\r
+\r
+"Vasili Dmitrich, I thank you for the honor," she said, with an\r
+embarrassed voice, though it sounded severe to Denisov--"but my daughter\r
+is so young, and I thought that, as my son's friend, you would have\r
+addressed yourself first to me. In that case you would not have obliged\r
+me to give this refusal."\r
+\r
+"Countess..." said Denisov, with downcast eyes and a guilty face. He\r
+tried to say more, but faltered.\r
+\r
+Natasha could not remain calm, seeing him in such a plight. She began to\r
+sob aloud.\r
+\r
+"Countess, I have done w'ong," Denisov went on in an unsteady voice,\r
+"but believe me, I so adore your daughter and all your family that I\r
+would give my life twice over..." He looked at the countess, and seeing\r
+her severe face said: "Well, good-by, Countess," and kissing her hand,\r
+he left the room with quick resolute strides, without looking at\r
+Natasha.\r
+\r
+Next day Rostov saw Denisov off. He did not wish to stay another day in\r
+Moscow. All Denisov's Moscow friends gave him a farewell entertainment\r
+at the gypsies', with the result that he had no recollection of how he\r
+was put in the sleigh or of the first three stages of his journey.\r
+\r
+After Denisov's departure, Rostov spent another fortnight in Moscow,\r
+without going out of the house, waiting for the money his father could\r
+not at once raise, and he spent most of his time in the girls' room.\r
+\r
+Sonya was more tender and devoted to him than ever. It was as if she\r
+wanted to show him that his losses were an achievement that made her\r
+love him all the more, but Nicholas now considered himself unworthy of\r
+her.\r
+\r
+He filled the girls' albums with verses and music, and having at last\r
+sent Dolokhov the whole forty-three thousand rubles and received his\r
+receipt, he left at the end of November, without taking leave of any of\r
+his acquaintances, to overtake his regiment which was already in Poland.\r
+\r
+BOOK FIVE: 1806 - 07\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+After his interview with his wife Pierre left for Petersburg. At the\r
+Torzhok post station, either there were no horses or the postmaster\r
+would not supply them. Pierre was obliged to wait. Without undressing,\r
+he lay down on the leather sofa in front of a round table, put his big\r
+feet in their overboots on the table, and began to reflect.\r
+\r
+"Will you have the portmanteaus brought in? And a bed got ready, and\r
+tea?" asked his valet.\r
+\r
+Pierre gave no answer, for he neither heard nor saw anything. He had\r
+begun to think of the last station and was still pondering on the same\r
+question--one so important that he took no notice of what went on around\r
+him. Not only was he indifferent as to whether he got to Petersburg\r
+earlier or later, or whether he secured accommodation at this station,\r
+but compared to the thoughts that now occupied him it was a matter of\r
+indifference whether he remained there for a few hours or for the rest\r
+of his life.\r
+\r
+The postmaster, his wife, the valet, and a peasant woman selling Torzhok\r
+embroidery came into the room offering their services. Without changing\r
+his careless attitude, Pierre looked at them over his spectacles unable\r
+to understand what they wanted or how they could go on living without\r
+having solved the problems that so absorbed him. He had been engrossed\r
+by the same thoughts ever since the day he returned from Sokolniki after\r
+the duel and had spent that first agonizing, sleepless night. But now,\r
+in the solitude of the journey, they seized him with special force. No\r
+matter what he thought about, he always returned to these same questions\r
+which he could not solve and yet could not cease to ask himself. It was\r
+as if the thread of the chief screw which held his life together were\r
+stripped, so that the screw could not get in or out, but went on turning\r
+uselessly in the same place.\r
+\r
+The postmaster came in and began obsequiously to beg his excellency to\r
+wait only two hours, when, come what might, he would let his excellency\r
+have the courier horses. It was plain that he was lying and only wanted\r
+to get more money from the traveler.\r
+\r
+"Is this good or bad?" Pierre asked himself. "It is good for me, bad for\r
+another traveler, and for himself it's unavoidable, because he needs\r
+money for food; the man said an officer had once given him a thrashing\r
+for letting a private traveler have the courier horses. But the officer\r
+thrashed him because he had to get on as quickly as possible. And I,"\r
+continued Pierre, "shot Dolokhov because I considered myself injured,\r
+and Louis XVI was executed because they considered him a criminal, and a\r
+year later they executed those who executed him--also for some reason.\r
+What is bad? What is good? What should one love and what hate? What does\r
+one live for? And what am I? What is life, and what is death? What power\r
+governs all?"\r
+\r
+There was no answer to any of these questions, except one, and that not\r
+a logical answer and not at all a reply to them. The answer was: "You'll\r
+die and all will end. You'll die and know all, or cease asking." But\r
+dying was also dreadful.\r
+\r
+The Torzhok peddler woman, in a whining voice, went on offering her\r
+wares, especially a pair of goatskin slippers. "I have hundreds of\r
+rubles I don't know what to do with, and she stands in her tattered\r
+cloak looking timidly at me," he thought. "And what does she want the\r
+money for? As if that money could add a hair's breadth to happiness or\r
+peace of mind. Can anything in the world make her or me less a prey to\r
+evil and death?--death which ends all and must come today or tomorrow--\r
+at any rate, in an instant as compared with eternity." And again he\r
+twisted the screw with the stripped thread, and again it turned\r
+uselessly in the same place.\r
+\r
+His servant handed him a half-cut novel, in the form of letters, by\r
+Madame de Souza. He began reading about the sufferings and virtuous\r
+struggles of a certain Emilie de Mansfeld. "And why did she resist her\r
+seducer when she loved him?" he thought. "God could not have put into\r
+her heart an impulse that was against His will. My wife--as she once\r
+was--did not struggle, and perhaps she was right. Nothing has been found\r
+out, nothing discovered," Pierre again said to himself. "All we can know\r
+is that we know nothing. And that's the height of human wisdom."\r
+\r
+Everything within and around him seemed confused, senseless, and\r
+repellent. Yet in this very repugnance to all his circumstances Pierre\r
+found a kind of tantalizing satisfaction.\r
+\r
+"I make bold to ask your excellency to move a little for this\r
+gentleman," said the postmaster, entering the room followed by another\r
+traveler, also detained for lack of horses.\r
+\r
+The newcomer was a short, large-boned, yellow-faced, wrinkled old man,\r
+with gray bushy eyebrows overhanging bright eyes of an indefinite\r
+grayish color.\r
+\r
+Pierre took his feet off the table, stood up, and lay down on a bed that\r
+had been got ready for him, glancing now and then at the newcomer, who,\r
+with a gloomy and tired face, was wearily taking off his wraps with the\r
+aid of his servant, and not looking at Pierre. With a pair of felt boots\r
+on his thin bony legs, and keeping on a worn, nankeen-covered, sheepskin\r
+coat, the traveler sat down on the sofa, leaned back his big head with\r
+its broad temples and close-cropped hair, and looked at Bezukhov. The\r
+stern, shrewd, and penetrating expression of that look struck Pierre. He\r
+felt a wish to speak to the stranger, but by the time he had made up his\r
+mind to ask him a question about the roads, the traveler had closed his\r
+eyes. His shriveled old hands were folded and on the finger of one of\r
+them Pierre noticed a large cast iron ring with a seal representing a\r
+death's head. The stranger sat without stirring, either resting or, as\r
+it seemed to Pierre, sunk in profound and calm meditation. His servant\r
+was also a yellow, wrinkled old man, without beard or mustache,\r
+evidently not because he was shaven but because they had never grown.\r
+This active old servant was unpacking the traveler's canteen and\r
+preparing tea. He brought in a boiling samovar. When everything was\r
+ready, the stranger opened his eyes, moved to the table, filled a\r
+tumbler with tea for himself and one for the beardless old man to whom\r
+he passed it. Pierre began to feel a sense of uneasiness, and the need,\r
+even the inevitability, of entering into conversation with this\r
+stranger.\r
+\r
+The servant brought back his tumbler turned upside down, * with an\r
+unfinished bit of nibbled sugar, and asked if anything more would be\r
+wanted.\r
+\r
+\r
+* To indicate he did not want more tea.\r
+\r
+"No. Give me the book," said the stranger.\r
+\r
+The servant handed him a book which Pierre took to be a devotional work,\r
+and the traveler became absorbed in it. Pierre looked at him. All at\r
+once the stranger closed the book, putting in a marker, and again,\r
+leaning with his arms on the back of the sofa, sat in his former\r
+position with his eyes shut. Pierre looked at him and had not time to\r
+turn away when the old man, opening his eyes, fixed his steady and\r
+severe gaze straight on Pierre's face.\r
+\r
+Pierre felt confused and wished to avoid that look, but the bright old\r
+eyes attracted him irresistibly.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+"I have the pleasure of addressing Count Bezukhov, if I am not\r
+mistaken," said the stranger in a deliberate and loud voice.\r
+\r
+Pierre looked silently and inquiringly at him over his spectacles.\r
+\r
+"I have heard of you, my dear sir," continued the stranger, "and of your\r
+misfortune." He seemed to emphasize the last word, as if to say--"Yes,\r
+misfortune! Call it what you please, I know that what happened to you in\r
+Moscow was a misfortune."--"I regret it very much, my dear sir."\r
+\r
+Pierre flushed and, hurriedly putting his legs down from the bed, bent\r
+forward toward the old man with a forced and timid smile.\r
+\r
+"I have not referred to this out of curiosity, my dear sir, but for\r
+greater reasons."\r
+\r
+He paused, his gaze still on Pierre, and moved aside on the sofa by way\r
+of inviting the other to take a seat beside him. Pierre felt reluctant\r
+to enter into conversation with this old man, but, submitting to him\r
+involuntarily, came up and sat down beside him.\r
+\r
+"You are unhappy, my dear sir," the stranger continued. "You are young\r
+and I am old. I should like to help you as far as lies in my power."\r
+\r
+"Oh, yes!" said Pierre, with a forced smile. "I am very grateful to you.\r
+Where are you traveling from?"\r
+\r
+The stranger's face was not genial, it was even cold and severe, but in\r
+spite of this, both the face and words of his new acquaintance were\r
+irresistibly attractive to Pierre.\r
+\r
+"But if for reason you don't feel inclined to talk to me," said the old\r
+man, "say so, my dear sir." And he suddenly smiled, in an unexpected and\r
+tenderly paternal way.\r
+\r
+"Oh no, not at all! On the contrary, I am very glad to make your\r
+acquaintance," said Pierre. And again, glancing at the stranger's hands,\r
+he looked more closely at the ring, with its skull--a masonic sign.\r
+\r
+"Allow me to ask," he said, "are you a Mason?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, I belong to the Brotherhood of the Freemasons," said the stranger,\r
+looking deeper and deeper into Pierre's eyes. "And in their name and my\r
+own I hold out a brotherly hand to you."\r
+\r
+"I am afraid," said Pierre, smiling, and wavering between the confidence\r
+the personality of the Freemason inspired in him and his own habit of\r
+ridiculing the masonic beliefs--"I am afraid I am very far from\r
+understanding--how am I to put it?--I am afraid my way of looking at the\r
+world is so opposed to yours that we shall not understand one another."\r
+\r
+"I know your outlook," said the Mason, "and the view of life you\r
+mention, and which you think is the result of your own mental efforts,\r
+is the one held by the majority of people, and is the invariable fruit\r
+of pride, indolence, and ignorance. Forgive me, my dear sir, but if I\r
+had not known it I should not have addressed you. Your view of life is a\r
+regrettable delusion."\r
+\r
+"Just as I may suppose you to be deluded," said Pierre, with a faint\r
+smile.\r
+\r
+"I should never dare to say that I know the truth," said the Mason,\r
+whose words struck Pierre more and more by their precision and firmness.\r
+"No one can attain to truth by himself. Only by laying stone on stone\r
+with the cooperation of all, by the millions of generations from our\r
+forefather Adam to our own times, is that temple reared which is to be a\r
+worthy dwelling place of the Great God," he added, and closed his eyes.\r
+\r
+"I ought to tell you that I do not believe... do not believe in God,"\r
+said Pierre, regretfully and with an effort, feeling it essential to\r
+speak the whole truth.\r
+\r
+The Mason looked intently at Pierre and smiled as a rich man with\r
+millions in hand might smile at a poor fellow who told him that he, poor\r
+man, had not the five rubles that would make him happy.\r
+\r
+"Yes, you do not know Him, my dear sir," said the Mason. "You cannot\r
+know Him. You do not know Him and that is why you are unhappy."\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes, I am unhappy," assented Pierre. "But what am I to do?"\r
+\r
+"You know Him not, my dear sir, and so you are very unhappy. You do not\r
+know Him, but He is here, He is in me, He is in my words, He is in thee,\r
+and even in those blasphemous words thou hast just uttered!" pronounced\r
+the Mason in a stern and tremulous voice.\r
+\r
+He paused and sighed, evidently trying to calm himself.\r
+\r
+"If He were not," he said quietly, "you and I would not be speaking of\r
+Him, my dear sir. Of what, of whom, are we speaking? Whom hast thou\r
+denied?" he suddenly asked with exulting austerity and authority in his\r
+voice. "Who invented Him, if He did not exist? Whence came thy\r
+conception of the existence of such an incomprehensible Being? didst\r
+thou, and why did the whole world, conceive the idea of the existence of\r
+such an incomprehensible Being, a Being all-powerful, eternal, and\r
+infinite in all His attributes?..."\r
+\r
+He stopped and remained silent for a long time.\r
+\r
+Pierre could not and did not wish to break this silence.\r
+\r
+"He exists, but to understand Him is hard," the Mason began again,\r
+looking not at Pierre but straight before him, and turning the leaves of\r
+his book with his old hands which from excitement he could not keep\r
+still. "If it were a man whose existence thou didst doubt I could bring\r
+him to thee, could take him by the hand and show him to thee. But how\r
+can I, an insignificant mortal, show His omnipotence, His infinity, and\r
+all His mercy to one who is blind, or who shuts his eyes that he may not\r
+see or understand Him and may not see or understand his own vileness and\r
+sinfulness?" He paused again. "Who art thou? Thou dreamest that thou art\r
+wise because thou couldst utter those blasphemous words," he went on,\r
+with a somber and scornful smile. "And thou art more foolish and\r
+unreasonable than a little child, who, playing with the parts of a\r
+skillfully made watch, dares to say that, as he does not understand its\r
+use, he does not believe in the master who made it. To know Him is\r
+hard.... For ages, from our forefather Adam to our own day, we labor to\r
+attain that knowledge and are still infinitely far from our aim; but in\r
+our lack of understanding we see only our weakness and His\r
+greatness...."\r
+\r
+Pierre listened with swelling heart, gazing into the Mason's face with\r
+shining eyes, not interrupting or questioning him, but believing with\r
+his whole soul what the stranger said. Whether he accepted the wise\r
+reasoning contained in the Mason's words, or believed as a child\r
+believes, in the speaker's tone of conviction and earnestness, or the\r
+tremor of the speaker's voice--which sometimes almost broke--or those\r
+brilliant aged eyes grown old in this conviction, or the calm firmness\r
+and certainty of his vocation, which radiated from his whole being (and\r
+which struck Pierre especially by contrast with his own dejection and\r
+hopelessness)--at any rate, Pierre longed with his whole soul to believe\r
+and he did believe, and felt a joyful sense of comfort, regeneration,\r
+and return to life.\r
+\r
+"He is not to be apprehended by reason, but by life," said the Mason.\r
+\r
+"I do not understand," said Pierre, feeling with dismay doubts\r
+reawakening. He was afraid of any want of clearness, any weakness, in\r
+the Mason's arguments; he dreaded not to be able to believe in him. "I\r
+don't understand," he said, "how it is that the mind of man cannot\r
+attain the knowledge of which you speak."\r
+\r
+The Mason smiled with his gentle fatherly smile.\r
+\r
+"The highest wisdom and truth are like the purest liquid we may wish to\r
+imbibe," he said. "Can I receive that pure liquid into an impure vessel\r
+and judge of its purity? Only by the inner purification of myself can I\r
+retain in some degree of purity the liquid I receive."\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes, that is so," said Pierre joyfully.\r
+\r
+"The highest wisdom is not founded on reason alone, not on those worldly\r
+sciences of physics, history, chemistry, and the like, into which\r
+intellectual knowledge is divided. The highest wisdom is one. The\r
+highest wisdom has but one science--the science of the whole--the\r
+science explaining the whole creation and man's place in it. To receive\r
+that science it is necessary to purify and renew one's inner self, and\r
+so before one can know, it is necessary to believe and to perfect one's\r
+self. And to attain this end, we have the light called conscience that\r
+God has implanted in our souls."\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes," assented Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Look then at thy inner self with the eyes of the spirit, and ask\r
+thyself whether thou art content with thyself. What hast thou attained\r
+relying on reason only? What art thou? You are young, you are rich, you\r
+are clever, you are well educated. And what have you done with all these\r
+good gifts? Are you content with yourself and with your life?"\r
+\r
+"No, I hate my life," Pierre muttered, wincing.\r
+\r
+"Thou hatest it. Then change it, purify thyself; and as thou art\r
+purified, thou wilt gain wisdom. Look at your life, my dear sir. How\r
+have you spent it? In riotous orgies and debauchery, receiving\r
+everything from society and giving nothing in return. You have become\r
+the possessor of wealth. How have you used it? What have you done for\r
+your neighbor? Have you ever thought of your tens of thousands of\r
+slaves? Have you helped them physically and morally? No! You have\r
+profited by their toil to lead a profligate life. That is what you have\r
+done. Have you chosen a post in which you might be of service to your\r
+neighbor? No! You have spent your life in idleness. Then you married, my\r
+dear sir--took on yourself responsibility for the guidance of a young\r
+woman; and what have you done? You have not helped her to find the way\r
+of truth, my dear sir, but have thrust her into an abyss of deceit and\r
+misery. A man offended you and you shot him, and you say you do not know\r
+God and hate your life. There is nothing strange in that, my dear sir!"\r
+\r
+After these words, the Mason, as if tired by his long discourse, again\r
+leaned his arms on the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. Pierre\r
+looked at that aged, stern, motionless, almost lifeless face and moved\r
+his lips without uttering a sound. He wished to say, "Yes, a vile, idle,\r
+vicious life!" but dared not break the silence.\r
+\r
+The Mason cleared his throat huskily, as old men do, and called his\r
+servant.\r
+\r
+"How about the horses?" he asked, without looking at Pierre.\r
+\r
+"The exchange horses have just come," answered the servant. "Will you\r
+not rest here?"\r
+\r
+"No, tell them to harness."\r
+\r
+"Can he really be going away leaving me alone without having told me\r
+all, and without promising to help me?" thought Pierre, rising with\r
+downcast head; and he began to pace the room, glancing occasionally at\r
+the Mason. "Yes, I never thought of it, but I have led a contemptible\r
+and profligate life, though I did not like it and did not want to,"\r
+thought Pierre. "But this man knows the truth and, if he wished to,\r
+could disclose it to me."\r
+\r
+Pierre wished to say this to the Mason, but did not dare to. The\r
+traveler, having packed his things with his practiced hands, began\r
+fastening his coat. When he had finished, he turned to Bezukhov, and\r
+said in a tone of indifferent politeness:\r
+\r
+"Where are you going to now, my dear sir?"\r
+\r
+"I?... I'm going to Petersburg," answered Pierre, in a childlike,\r
+hesitating voice. "I thank you. I agree with all you have said. But do\r
+not suppose me to be so bad. With my whole soul I wish to be what you\r
+would have me be, but I have never had help from anyone.... But it is I,\r
+above all, who am to blame for everything. Help me, teach me, and\r
+perhaps I may..."\r
+\r
+Pierre could not go on. He gulped and turned away.\r
+\r
+The Mason remained silent for a long time, evidently considering.\r
+\r
+"Help comes from God alone," he said, "but such measure of help as our\r
+Order can bestow it will render you, my dear sir. You are going to\r
+Petersburg. Hand this to Count Willarski" (he took out his notebook and\r
+wrote a few words on a large sheet of paper folded in four). "Allow me\r
+to give you a piece of advice. When you reach the capital, first of all\r
+devote some time to solitude and self-examination and do not resume your\r
+former way of life. And now I wish you a good journey, my dear sir," he\r
+added, seeing that his servant had entered... "and success."\r
+\r
+The traveler was Joseph Alexeevich Bazdeev, as Pierre saw from the\r
+postmaster's book. Bazdeev had been one of the best-known Freemasons and\r
+Martinists, even in Novikov's time. For a long while after he had gone,\r
+Pierre did not go to bed or order horses but paced up and down the room,\r
+pondering over his vicious past, and with a rapturous sense of beginning\r
+anew pictured to himself the blissful, irreproachable, virtuous future\r
+that seemed to him so easy. It seemed to him that he had been vicious\r
+only because he had somehow forgotten how good it is to be virtuous. Not\r
+a trace of his former doubts remained in his soul. He firmly believed in\r
+the possibility of the brotherhood of men united in the aim of\r
+supporting one another in the path of virtue, and that is how\r
+Freemasonry presented itself to him.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+On reaching Petersburg Pierre did not let anyone know of his arrival, he\r
+went nowhere and spent whole days in reading Thomas a Kempis, whose book\r
+had been sent him by someone unknown. One thing he continually realized\r
+as he read that book: the joy, hitherto unknown to him, of believing in\r
+the possibility of attaining perfection, and in the possibility of\r
+active brotherly love among men, which Joseph Alexeevich had revealed to\r
+him. A week after his arrival, the young Polish count, Willarski, whom\r
+Pierre had known slightly in Petersburg society, came into his room one\r
+evening in the official and ceremonious manner in which Dolokhov's\r
+second had called on him, and, having closed the door behind him and\r
+satisfied himself that there was nobody else in the room, addressed\r
+Pierre.\r
+\r
+"I have come to you with a message and an offer, Count," he said without\r
+sitting down. "A person of very high standing in our Brotherhood has\r
+made application for you to be received into our Order before the usual\r
+term and has proposed to me to be your sponsor. I consider it a sacred\r
+duty to fulfill that person's wishes. Do you wish to enter the\r
+Brotherhood of Freemasons under my sponsorship?"\r
+\r
+The cold, austere tone of this man, whom he had almost always before met\r
+at balls, amiably smiling in the society of the most brilliant women,\r
+surprised Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Yes, I do wish it," said he.\r
+\r
+Willarski bowed his head.\r
+\r
+"One more question, Count," he said, "which I beg you to answer in all\r
+sincerity--not as a future Mason but as an honest man: have you\r
+renounced your former convictions--do you believe in God?"\r
+\r
+Pierre considered.\r
+\r
+"Yes... yes, I believe in God," he said.\r
+\r
+"In that case..." began Willarski, but Pierre interrupted him.\r
+\r
+"Yes, I do believe in God," he repeated.\r
+\r
+"In that case we can go," said Willarski. "My carriage is at your\r
+service."\r
+\r
+Willarski was silent throughout the drive. To Pierre's inquiries as to\r
+what he must do and how he should answer, Willarski only replied that\r
+brothers more worthy than he would test him and that Pierre had only to\r
+tell the truth.\r
+\r
+Having entered the courtyard of a large house where the Lodge had its\r
+headquarters, and having ascended a dark staircase, they entered a small\r
+well-lit anteroom where they took off their cloaks without the aid of a\r
+servant. From there they passed into another room. A man in strange\r
+attire appeared at the door. Willarski, stepping toward him, said\r
+something to him in French in an undertone and then went up to a small\r
+wardrobe in which Pierre noticed garments such as he had never seen\r
+before. Having taken a kerchief from the cupboard, Willarski bound\r
+Pierre's eyes with it and tied it in a knot behind, catching some hairs\r
+painfully in the knot. Then he drew his face down, kissed him, and\r
+taking him by the hand led him forward. The hairs tied in the knot hurt\r
+Pierre and there were lines of pain on his face and a shamefaced smile.\r
+His huge figure, with arms hanging down and with a puckered, though\r
+smiling face, moved after Willarski with uncertain, timid steps.\r
+\r
+Having led him about ten paces, Willarski stopped.\r
+\r
+"Whatever happens to you," he said, "you must bear it all manfully if\r
+you have firmly resolved to join our Brotherhood." (Pierre nodded\r
+affirmatively.) "When you hear a knock at the door, you will uncover\r
+your eyes," added Willarski. "I wish you courage and success," and,\r
+pressing Pierre's hand, he went out.\r
+\r
+Left alone, Pierre went on smiling in the same way. Once or twice he\r
+shrugged his shoulders and raised his hand to the kerchief, as if\r
+wishing to take it off, but let it drop again. The five minutes spent\r
+with his eyes bandaged seemed to him an hour. His arms felt numb, his\r
+legs almost gave way, it seemed to him that he was tired out. He\r
+experienced a variety of most complex sensations. He felt afraid of what\r
+would happen to him and still more afraid of showing his fear. He felt\r
+curious to know what was going to happen and what would be revealed to\r
+him; but most of all, he felt joyful that the moment had come when he\r
+would at last start on that path of regeneration and on the actively\r
+virtuous life of which he had been dreaming since he met Joseph\r
+Alexeevich. Loud knocks were heard at the door. Pierre took the bandage\r
+off his eyes and glanced around him. The room was in black darkness,\r
+only a small lamp was burning inside something white. Pierre went nearer\r
+and saw that the lamp stood on a black table on which lay an open book.\r
+The book was the Gospel, and the white thing with the lamp inside was a\r
+human skull with its cavities and teeth. After reading the first words\r
+of the Gospel: "In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with\r
+God," Pierre went round the table and saw a large open box filled with\r
+something. It was a coffin with bones inside. He was not at all\r
+surprised by what he saw. Hoping to enter on an entirely new life quite\r
+unlike the old one, he expected everything to be unusual, even more\r
+unusual than what he was seeing. A skull, a coffin, the Gospel--it\r
+seemed to him that he had expected all this and even more. Trying to\r
+stimulate his emotions he looked around. "God, death, love, the\r
+brotherhood of man," he kept saying to himself, associating these words\r
+with vague yet joyful ideas. The door opened and someone came in.\r
+\r
+By the dim light, to which Pierre had already become accustomed, he saw\r
+a rather a short man. Having evidently come from the light into the\r
+darkness, the man paused, then moved with cautious steps toward the\r
+table and placed on it his small leather-gloved hands.\r
+\r
+This short man had on a white leather apron which covered his chest and\r
+part of his legs; he had on a kind of necklace above which rose a high\r
+white ruffle, outlining his rather long face which was lit up from\r
+below.\r
+\r
+"For what have you come hither?" asked the newcomer, turning in Pierre's\r
+direction at a slight rustle made by the latter. "Why have you, who do\r
+not believe in the truth of the light and who have not seen the light,\r
+come here? What do you seek from us? Wisdom, virtue, enlightenment?"\r
+\r
+At the moment the door opened and the stranger came in, Pierre felt a\r
+sense of awe and veneration such as he had experienced in his boyhood at\r
+confession; he felt himself in the presence of one socially a complete\r
+stranger, yet nearer to him through the brotherhood of man. With bated\r
+breath and beating heart he moved toward the Rhetor (by which name the\r
+brother who prepared a seeker for entrance into the Brotherhood was\r
+known). Drawing nearer, he recognized in the Rhetor a man he knew,\r
+Smolyaninov, and it mortified him to think that the newcomer was an\r
+acquaintance--he wished him simply a brother and a virtuous instructor.\r
+For a long time he could not utter a word, so that the Rhetor had to\r
+repeat his question.\r
+\r
+"Yes... I... I... desire regeneration," Pierre uttered with difficulty.\r
+\r
+"Very well," said Smolyaninov, and went on at once: "Have you any idea\r
+of the means by which our holy Order will help you to reach your aim?"\r
+said he quietly and quickly.\r
+\r
+"I... hope... for guidance... help... in regeneration," said Pierre,\r
+with a trembling voice and some difficulty in utterance due to his\r
+excitement and to being unaccustomed to speak of abstract matters in\r
+Russian.\r
+\r
+"What is your conception of Freemasonry?"\r
+\r
+"I imagine that Freemasonry is the fraternity and equality of men who\r
+have virtuous aims," said Pierre, feeling ashamed of the inadequacy of\r
+his words for the solemnity of the moment, as he spoke. "I imagine..."\r
+\r
+"Good!" said the Rhetor quickly, apparently satisfied with this answer.\r
+"Have you sought for means of attaining your aim in religion?"\r
+\r
+"No, I considered it erroneous and did not follow it," said Pierre, so\r
+softly that the Rhetor did not hear him and asked him what he was\r
+saying. "I have been an atheist," answered Pierre.\r
+\r
+"You are seeking for truth in order to follow its laws in your life,\r
+therefore you seek wisdom and virtue. Is that not so?" said the Rhetor,\r
+after a moment's pause.\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes," assented Pierre.\r
+\r
+The Rhetor cleared his throat, crossed his gloved hands on his breast,\r
+and began to speak.\r
+\r
+"Now I must disclose to you the chief aim of our Order," he said, "and\r
+if this aim coincides with yours, you may enter our Brotherhood with\r
+profit. The first and chief object of our Order, the foundation on which\r
+it rests and which no human power can destroy, is the preservation and\r
+handing on to posterity of a certain important mystery... which has come\r
+down to us from the remotest ages, even from the first man--a mystery on\r
+which perhaps the fate of mankind depends. But since this mystery is of\r
+such a nature that nobody can know or use it unless he be prepared by\r
+long and diligent self-purification, not everyone can hope to attain it\r
+quickly. Hence we have a secondary aim, that of preparing our members as\r
+much as possible to reform their hearts, to purify and enlighten their\r
+minds, by means handed on to us by tradition from those who have striven\r
+to attain this mystery, and thereby to render them capable of receiving\r
+it.\r
+\r
+"By purifying and regenerating our members we try, thirdly, to improve\r
+the whole human race, offering it in our members an example of piety and\r
+virtue, and thereby try with all our might to combat the evil which\r
+sways the world. Think this over and I will come to you again."\r
+\r
+"To combat the evil which sways the world..." Pierre repeated, and a\r
+mental image of his future activity in this direction rose in his mind.\r
+He imagined men such as he had himself been a fortnight ago, and he\r
+addressed an edifying exhortation to them. He imagined to himself\r
+vicious and unfortunate people whom he would assist by word and deed,\r
+imagined oppressors whose victims he would rescue. Of the three objects\r
+mentioned by the Rhetor, this last, that of improving mankind,\r
+especially appealed to Pierre. The important mystery mentioned by the\r
+Rhetor, though it aroused his curiosity, did not seem to him essential,\r
+and the second aim, that of purifying and regenerating himself, did not\r
+much interest him because at that moment he felt with delight that he\r
+was already perfectly cured of his former faults and was ready for all\r
+that was good.\r
+\r
+Half an hour later, the Rhetor returned to inform the seeker of the\r
+seven virtues, corresponding to the seven steps of Solomon's temple,\r
+which every Freemason should cultivate in himself. These virtues were:\r
+1. Discretion, the keeping of the secrets of the Order. 2. Obedience to\r
+those of higher ranks in the Order. 3. Morality. 4. Love of mankind. 5.\r
+Courage. 6. Generosity. 7. The love of death.\r
+\r
+"In the seventh place, try, by the frequent thought of death," the\r
+Rhetor said, "to bring yourself to regard it not as a dreaded foe, but\r
+as a friend that frees the soul grown weary in the labors of virtue from\r
+this distressful life, and leads it to its place of recompense and\r
+peace."\r
+\r
+"Yes, that must be so," thought Pierre, when after these words the\r
+Rhetor went away, leaving him to solitary meditation. "It must be so,\r
+but I am still so weak that I love my life, the meaning of which is only\r
+now gradually opening before me." But five of the other virtues which\r
+Pierre recalled, counting them on his fingers, he felt already in his\r
+soul: courage, generosity, morality, love of mankind, and especially\r
+obedience--which did not even seem to him a virtue, but a joy. (He now\r
+felt so glad to be free from his own lawlessness and to submit his will\r
+to those who knew the indubitable truth.) He forgot what the seventh\r
+virtue was and could not recall it.\r
+\r
+The third time the Rhetor came back more quickly and asked Pierre\r
+whether he was still firm in his intention and determined to submit to\r
+all that would be required of him.\r
+\r
+"I am ready for everything," said Pierre.\r
+\r
+"I must also inform you," said the Rhetor, "that our Order delivers its\r
+teaching not in words only but also by other means, which may perhaps\r
+have a stronger effect on the sincere seeker after wisdom and virtue\r
+than mere words. This chamber with what you see therein should already\r
+have suggested to your heart, if it is sincere, more than words could\r
+do. You will perhaps also see in your further initiation a like method\r
+of enlightenment. Our Order imitates the ancient societies that\r
+explained their teaching by hieroglyphics. A hieroglyph," said the\r
+Rhetor, "is an emblem of something not cognizable by the senses but\r
+which possesses qualities resembling those of the symbol."\r
+\r
+Pierre knew very well what a hieroglyph was, but dared not speak. He\r
+listened to the Rhetor in silence, feeling from all he said that his\r
+ordeal was about to begin.\r
+\r
+"If you are resolved, I must begin your initiation," said the Rhetor\r
+coming closer to Pierre. "In token of generosity I ask you to give me\r
+all your valuables."\r
+\r
+"But I have nothing here," replied Pierre, supposing that he was asked\r
+to give up all he possessed.\r
+\r
+"What you have with you: watch, money, rings...."\r
+\r
+Pierre quickly took out his purse and watch, but could not manage for\r
+some time to get the wedding ring off his fat finger. When that had been\r
+done, the Rhetor said:\r
+\r
+"In token of obedience, I ask you to undress."\r
+\r
+Pierre took off his coat, waistcoat, and left boot according to the\r
+Rhetor's instructions. The Mason drew the shirt back from Pierre's left\r
+breast, and stooping down pulled up the left leg of his trousers to\r
+above the knee. Pierre hurriedly began taking off his right boot also\r
+and was going to tuck up the other trouser leg to save this stranger the\r
+trouble, but the Mason told him that was not necessary and gave him a\r
+slipper for his left foot. With a childlike smile of embarrassment,\r
+doubt, and self-derision, which appeared on his face against his will,\r
+Pierre stood with his arms hanging down and legs apart, before his\r
+brother Rhetor, and awaited his further commands.\r
+\r
+"And now, in token of candor, I ask you to reveal to me your chief\r
+passion," said the latter.\r
+\r
+"My passion! I have had so many," replied Pierre.\r
+\r
+"That passion which more than all others caused you to waver on the path\r
+of virtue," said the Mason.\r
+\r
+Pierre paused, seeking a reply.\r
+\r
+"Wine? Gluttony? Idleness? Laziness? Irritability? Anger? Women?" He\r
+went over his vices in his mind, not knowing to which of them to give\r
+the pre-eminence.\r
+\r
+"Women," he said in a low, scarcely audible voice.\r
+\r
+The Mason did not move and for a long time said nothing after this\r
+answer. At last he moved up to Pierre and, taking the kerchief that lay\r
+on the table, again bound his eyes.\r
+\r
+"For the last time I say to you--turn all your attention upon yourself,\r
+put a bridle on your senses, and seek blessedness, not in passion but in\r
+your own heart. The source of blessedness is not without us but\r
+within...."\r
+\r
+Pierre had already long been feeling in himself that refreshing source\r
+of blessedness which now flooded his heart with glad emotion.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+Soon after this there came into the dark chamber to fetch Pierre, not\r
+the Rhetor but Pierre's sponsor, Willarski, whom he recognized by his\r
+voice. To fresh questions as to the firmness of his resolution Pierre\r
+replied: "Yes, yes, I agree," and with a beaming, childlike smile, his\r
+fat chest uncovered, stepping unevenly and timidly in one slippered and\r
+one booted foot, he advanced, while Willarski held a sword to his bare\r
+chest. He was conducted from that room along passages that turned\r
+backwards and forwards and was at last brought to the doors of the\r
+Lodge. Willarski coughed, he was answered by the masonic knock with\r
+mallets, the doors opened before them. A bass voice (Pierre was still\r
+blindfolded) questioned him as to who he was, when and where he was\r
+born, and so on. Then he was again led somewhere still blindfolded, and\r
+as they went along he was told allegories of the toils of his\r
+pilgrimage, of holy friendship, of the Eternal Architect of the\r
+universe, and of the courage with which he should endure toils and\r
+dangers. During these wanderings, Pierre noticed that he was spoken of\r
+now as the "Seeker," now as the "Sufferer," and now as the "Postulant,"\r
+to the accompaniment of various knockings with mallets and swords. As he\r
+was being led up to some object he noticed a hesitation and uncertainty\r
+among his conductors. He heard those around him disputing in whispers\r
+and one of them insisting that he should be led along a certain carpet.\r
+After that they took his right hand, placed it on something, and told\r
+him to hold a pair of compasses to his left breast with the other hand\r
+and to repeat after someone who read aloud an oath of fidelity to the\r
+laws of the Order. The candles were then extinguished and some spirit\r
+lighted, as Pierre knew by the smell, and he was told that he would now\r
+see the lesser light. The bandage was taken off his eyes and, by the\r
+faint light of the burning spirit, Pierre, as in a dream, saw several\r
+men standing before him, wearing aprons like the Rhetor's and holding\r
+swords in their hands pointed at his breast. Among them stood a man\r
+whose white shirt was stained with blood. On seeing this, Pierre moved\r
+forward with his breast toward the swords, meaning them to pierce it.\r
+But the swords were drawn back from him and he was at once blindfolded\r
+again.\r
+\r
+"Now thou hast seen the lesser light," uttered a voice. Then the candles\r
+were relit and he was told that he would see the full light; the bandage\r
+was again removed and more than ten voices said together: "Sic transit\r
+gloria mundi."\r
+\r
+Pierre gradually began to recover himself and looked about at the room\r
+and at the people in it. Round a long table covered with black sat some\r
+twelve men in garments like those he had already seen. Some of them\r
+Pierre had met in Petersburg society. In the President's chair sat a\r
+young man he did not know, with a peculiar cross hanging from his neck.\r
+On his right sat the Italian abbe whom Pierre had met at Anna Pavlovna's\r
+two years before. There were also present a very distinguished dignitary\r
+and a Swiss who had formerly been tutor at the Kuragins'. All maintained\r
+a solemn silence, listening to the words of the President, who held a\r
+mallet in his hand. Let into the wall was a star-shaped light. At one\r
+side of the table was a small carpet with various figures worked upon\r
+it, at the other was something resembling an altar on which lay a\r
+Testament and a skull. Round it stood seven large candlesticks like\r
+those used in churches. Two of the brothers led Pierre up to the altar,\r
+placed his feet at right angles, and bade him lie down, saying that he\r
+must prostrate himself at the Gates of the Temple.\r
+\r
+"He must first receive the trowel," whispered one of the brothers.\r
+\r
+"Oh, hush, please!" said another.\r
+\r
+Pierre, perplexed, looked round with his shortsighted eyes without\r
+obeying, and suddenly doubts arose in his mind. "Where am I? What am I\r
+doing? Aren't they laughing at me? Shan't I be ashamed to remember\r
+this?" But these doubts only lasted a moment. Pierre glanced at the\r
+serious faces of those around, remembered all he had already gone\r
+through, and realized that he could not stop halfway. He was aghast at\r
+his hesitation and, trying to arouse his former devotional feeling,\r
+prostrated himself before the Gates of the Temple. And really, the\r
+feeling of devotion returned to him even more strongly than before. When\r
+he had lain there some time, he was told to get up, and a white leather\r
+apron, such as the others wore, was put on him: he was given a trowel\r
+and three pairs of gloves, and then the Grand Master addressed him. He\r
+told him that he should try to do nothing to stain the whiteness of that\r
+apron, which symbolized strength and purity; then of the unexplained\r
+trowel, he told him to toil with it to cleanse his own heart from vice,\r
+and indulgently to smooth with it the heart of his neighbor. As to the\r
+first pair of gloves, a man's, he said that Pierre could not know their\r
+meaning but must keep them. The second pair of man's gloves he was to\r
+wear at the meetings, and finally of the third, a pair of women's\r
+gloves, he said: "Dear brother, these woman's gloves are intended for\r
+you too. Give them to the woman whom you shall honor most of all. This\r
+gift will be a pledge of your purity of heart to her whom you select to\r
+be your worthy helpmeet in Masonry." And after a pause, he added: "But\r
+beware, dear brother, that these gloves do not deck hands that are\r
+unclean." While the Grand Master said these last words it seemed to\r
+Pierre that he grew embarrassed. Pierre himself grew still more\r
+confused, blushed like a child till tears came to his eyes, began\r
+looking about him uneasily, and an awkward pause followed.\r
+\r
+This silence was broken by one of the brethren, who led Pierre up to the\r
+rug and began reading to him from a manuscript book an explanation of\r
+all the figures on it: the sun, the moon, a hammer, a plumb line, a\r
+trowel, a rough stone and a squared stone, a pillar, three windows, and\r
+so on. Then a place was assigned to Pierre, he was shown the signs of\r
+the Lodge, told the password, and at last was permitted to sit down. The\r
+Grand Master began reading the statutes. They were very long, and\r
+Pierre, from joy, agitation, and embarrassment, was not in a state to\r
+understand what was being read. He managed to follow only the last words\r
+of the statutes and these remained in his mind.\r
+\r
+"In our temples we recognize no other distinctions," read the Grand\r
+Master, "but those between virtue and vice. Beware of making any\r
+distinctions which may infringe equality. Fly to a brother's aid whoever\r
+he may be, exhort him who goeth astray, raise him that falleth, never\r
+bear malice or enmity toward thy brother. Be kindly and courteous.\r
+Kindle in all hearts the flame of virtue. Share thy happiness with thy\r
+neighbor, and may envy never dim the purity of that bliss. Forgive thy\r
+enemy, do not avenge thyself except by doing him good. Thus fulfilling\r
+the highest law thou shalt regain traces of the ancient dignity which\r
+thou hast lost."\r
+\r
+He finished and, getting up, embraced and kissed Pierre, who, with tears\r
+of joy in his eyes, looked round him, not knowing how to answer the\r
+congratulations and greetings from acquaintances that met him on all\r
+sides. He acknowledged no acquaintances but saw in all these men only\r
+brothers, and burned with impatience to set to work with them.\r
+\r
+The Grand Master rapped with his mallet. All the Masons sat down in\r
+their places, and one of them read an exhortation on the necessity of\r
+humility.\r
+\r
+The Grand Master proposed that the last duty should be performed, and\r
+the distinguished dignitary who bore the title of "Collector of Alms"\r
+went round to all the brothers. Pierre would have liked to subscribe all\r
+he had, but fearing that it might look like pride subscribed the same\r
+amount as the others.\r
+\r
+The meeting was at an end, and on reaching home Pierre felt as if he had\r
+returned from a long journey on which he had spent dozens of years, had\r
+become completely changed, and had quite left behind his former habits\r
+and way of life.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+The day after he had been received into the Lodge, Pierre was sitting at\r
+home reading a book and trying to fathom the significance of the Square,\r
+one side of which symbolized God, another moral things, a third physical\r
+things, and the fourth a combination of these. Now and then his\r
+attention wandered from the book and the Square and he formed in\r
+imagination a new plan of life. On the previous evening at the Lodge, he\r
+had heard that a rumor of his duel had reached the Emperor and that it\r
+would be wiser for him to leave Petersburg. Pierre proposed going to his\r
+estates in the south and there attending to the welfare of his serfs. He\r
+was joyfully planning this new life, when Prince Vasili suddenly entered\r
+the room.\r
+\r
+"My dear fellow, what have you been up to in Moscow? Why have you\r
+quarreled with Helene, mon cher? You are under a delusion," said Prince\r
+Vasili, as he entered. "I know all about it, and I can tell you\r
+positively that Helene is as innocent before you as Christ was before\r
+the Jews."\r
+\r
+Pierre was about to reply, but Prince Vasili interrupted him.\r
+\r
+"And why didn't you simply come straight to me as to a friend? I know\r
+all about it and understand it all," he said. "You behaved as becomes a\r
+man who values his honor, perhaps too hastily, but we won't go into\r
+that. But consider the position in which you are placing her and me in\r
+the eyes of society, and even of the court," he added, lowering his\r
+voice. "She is living in Moscow and you are here. Remember, dear boy,"\r
+and he drew Pierre's arm downwards, "it is simply a misunderstanding. I\r
+expect you feel it so yourself. Let us write her a letter at once, and\r
+she'll come here and all will be explained, or else, my dear boy, let me\r
+tell you it's quite likely you'll have to suffer for it."\r
+\r
+Prince Vasili gave Pierre a significant look.\r
+\r
+"I know from reliable sources that the Dowager Empress is taking a keen\r
+interest in the whole affair. You know she is very gracious to Helene."\r
+\r
+Pierre tried several times to speak, but, on one hand, Prince Vasili did\r
+not let him and, on the other, Pierre himself feared to begin to speak\r
+in the tone of decided refusal and disagreement in which he had firmly\r
+resolved to answer his father-in-law. Moreover, the words of the masonic\r
+statutes, "be kindly and courteous," recurred to him. He blinked, went\r
+red, got up and sat down again, struggling with himself to do what was\r
+for him the most difficult thing in life--to say an unpleasant thing to\r
+a man's face, to say what the other, whoever he might be, did not\r
+expect. He was so used to submitting to Prince Vasili's tone of careless\r
+self-assurance that he felt he would be unable to withstand it now, but\r
+he also felt that on what he said now his future depended--whether he\r
+would follow the same old road, or that new path so attractively shown\r
+him by the Masons, on which he firmly believed he would be reborn to a\r
+new life.\r
+\r
+"Now, dear boy," said Prince Vasili playfully, "say 'yes,' and I'll\r
+write to her myself, and we will kill the fatted calf."\r
+\r
+But before Prince Vasili had finished his playful speech, Pierre,\r
+without looking at him, and with a kind of fury that made him like his\r
+father, muttered in a whisper:\r
+\r
+"Prince, I did not ask you here. Go, please go!" And he jumped up and\r
+opened the door for him.\r
+\r
+"Go!" he repeated, amazed at himself and glad to see the look of\r
+confusion and fear that showed itself on Prince Vasili's face.\r
+\r
+"What's the matter with you? Are you ill?"\r
+\r
+"Go!" the quivering voice repeated. And Prince Vasili had to go without\r
+receiving any explanation.\r
+\r
+A week later, Pierre, having taken leave of his new friends, the Masons,\r
+and leaving large sums of money with them for alms, went away to his\r
+estates. His new brethren gave him letters to the Kiev and Odessa Masons\r
+and promised to write to him and guide him in his new activity.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+The duel between Pierre and Dolokhov was hushed up and, in spite of the\r
+Emperor's severity regarding duels at that time, neither the principals\r
+nor their seconds suffered for it. But the story of the duel, confirmed\r
+by Pierre's rupture with his wife, was the talk of society. Pierre who\r
+had been regarded with patronizing condescension when he was an\r
+illegitimate son, and petted and extolled when he was the best match in\r
+Russia, had sunk greatly in the esteem of society after his marriage--\r
+when the marriageable daughters and their mothers had nothing to hope\r
+from him--especially as he did not know how, and did not wish, to court\r
+society's favor. Now he alone was blamed for what had happened, he was\r
+said to be insanely jealous and subject like his father to fits of\r
+bloodthirsty rage. And when after Pierre's departure Helene returned to\r
+Petersburg, she was received by all her acquaintances not only\r
+cordially, but even with a shade of deference due to her misfortune.\r
+When conversation turned on her husband Helene assumed a dignified\r
+expression, which with characteristic tact she had acquired though she\r
+did not understand its significance. This expression suggested that she\r
+had resolved to endure her troubles uncomplainingly and that her husband\r
+was a cross laid upon her by God. Prince Vasili expressed his opinion\r
+more openly. He shrugged his shoulders when Pierre was mentioned and,\r
+pointing to his forehead, remarked:\r
+\r
+"A bit touched--I always said so."\r
+\r
+"I said from the first," declared Anna Pavlovna referring to Pierre, "I\r
+said at the time and before anyone else" (she insisted on her priority)\r
+"that that senseless young man was spoiled by the depraved ideas of\r
+these days. I said so even at the time when everybody was in raptures\r
+about him, when he had just returned from abroad, and when, if you\r
+remember, he posed as a sort of Marat at one of my soirees. And how has\r
+it ended? I was against this marriage even then and foretold all that\r
+has happened."\r
+\r
+Anna Pavlovna continued to give on free evenings the same kind of\r
+soirees as before--such as she alone had the gift of arranging--at which\r
+was to be found "the cream of really good society, the bloom of the\r
+intellectual essence of Petersburg," as she herself put it. Besides this\r
+refined selection of society Anna Pavlovna's receptions were also\r
+distinguished by the fact that she always presented some new and\r
+interesting person to the visitors and that nowhere else was the state\r
+of the political thermometer of legitimate Petersburg court society so\r
+dearly and distinctly indicated.\r
+\r
+Toward the end of 1806, when all the sad details of Napoleon's\r
+destruction of the Prussian army at Jena and Auerstadt and the surrender\r
+of most of the Prussian fortresses had been received, when our troops\r
+had already entered Prussia and our second war with Napoleon was\r
+beginning, Anna Pavlovna gave one of her soirees. The "cream of really\r
+good society" consisted of the fascinating Helene, forsaken by her\r
+husband, Mortemart, the delightful Prince Hippolyte who had just\r
+returned from Vienna, two diplomatists, the old aunt, a young man\r
+referred to in that drawing room as "a man of great merit" (un homme de\r
+beaucoup de merite), a newly appointed maid of honor and her mother, and\r
+several other less noteworthy persons.\r
+\r
+The novelty Anna Pavlovna was setting before her guests that evening was\r
+Boris Drubetskoy, who had just arrived as a special messenger from the\r
+Prussian army and was aide-de-camp to a very important personage.\r
+\r
+The temperature shown by the political thermometer to the company that\r
+evening was this:\r
+\r
+"Whatever the European sovereigns and commanders may do to countenance\r
+Bonaparte, and to cause me, and us in general, annoyance and\r
+mortification, our opinion of Bonaparte cannot alter. We shall not cease\r
+to express our sincere views on that subject, and can only say to the\r
+King of Prussia and others: 'So much the worse for you. Tu l'as voulu,\r
+George Dandin,' that's all we have to say about it!"\r
+\r
+When Boris, who was to be served up to the guests, entered the drawing\r
+room, almost all the company had assembled, and the conversation, guided\r
+by Anna Pavlovna, was about our diplomatic relations with Austria and\r
+the hope of an alliance with her.\r
+\r
+Boris, grown more manly and looking fresh, rosy and self-possessed,\r
+entered the drawing room elegantly dressed in the uniform of an aide-de-\r
+camp and was duly conducted to pay his respects to the aunt and then\r
+brought back to the general circle.\r
+\r
+Anna Pavlovna gave him her shriveled hand to kiss and introduced him to\r
+several persons whom he did not know, giving him a whispered description\r
+of each.\r
+\r
+"Prince Hippolyte Kuragin, M. Krug, the charge d'affaires from\r
+Copenhagen--a profound intellect," and simply, "Mr. Shitov--a man of\r
+great merit"--this of the man usually so described.\r
+\r
+Thanks to Anna Mikhaylovna's efforts, his own tastes, and the\r
+peculiarities of his reserved nature, Boris had managed during his\r
+service to place himself very advantageously. He was aide-de-camp to a\r
+very important personage, had been sent on a very important mission to\r
+Prussia, and had just returned from there as a special messenger. He had\r
+become thoroughly conversant with that unwritten code with which he had\r
+been so pleased at Olmutz and according to which an ensign might rank\r
+incomparably higher than a general, and according to which what was\r
+needed for success in the service was not effort or work, or courage, or\r
+perseverance, but only the knowledge of how to get on with those who can\r
+grant rewards, and he was himself often surprised at the rapidity of his\r
+success and at the inability of others to understand these things. In\r
+consequence of this discovery his whole manner of life, all his\r
+relations with old friends, all his plans for his future, were\r
+completely altered. He was not rich, but would spend his last groat to\r
+be better dressed than others, and would rather deprive himself of many\r
+pleasures than allow himself to be seen in a shabby equipage or appear\r
+in the streets of Petersburg in an old uniform. He made friends with and\r
+sought the acquaintance of only those above him in position and who\r
+could therefore be of use to him. He liked Petersburg and despised\r
+Moscow. The remembrance of the Rostovs' house and of his childish love\r
+for Natasha was unpleasant to him and he had not once been to see the\r
+Rostovs since the day of his departure for the army. To be in Anna\r
+Pavlovna's drawing room he considered an important step up in the\r
+service, and he at once understood his role, letting his hostess make\r
+use of whatever interest he had to offer. He himself carefully scanned\r
+each face, appraising the possibilities of establishing intimacy with\r
+each of those present, and the advantages that might accrue. He took the\r
+seat indicated to him beside the fair Helene and listened to the general\r
+conversation.\r
+\r
+"Vienna considers the bases of the proposed treaty so unattainable that\r
+not even a continuity of most brilliant successes would secure them, and\r
+she doubts the means we have of gaining them. That is the actual phrase\r
+used by the Vienna cabinet," said the Danish charge d'affaires.\r
+\r
+"The doubt is flattering," said "the man of profound intellect," with a\r
+subtle smile.\r
+\r
+"We must distinguish between the Vienna cabinet and the Emperor of\r
+Austria," said Mortemart. "The Emperor of Austria can never have thought\r
+of such a thing, it is only the cabinet that says it."\r
+\r
+"Ah, my dear vicomte," put in Anna Pavlovna, "L'Urope" (for some reason\r
+she called it Urope as if that were a specially refined French\r
+pronunciation which she could allow herself when conversing with a\r
+Frenchman), "L'Urope ne sera jamais notre alliee sincere." *\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Europe will never be our sincere ally."\r
+\r
+After that Anna Pavlovna led up to the courage and firmness of the King\r
+of Prussia, in order to draw Boris into the conversation.\r
+\r
+Boris listened attentively to each of the speakers, awaiting his turn,\r
+but managed meanwhile to look round repeatedly at his neighbor, the\r
+beautiful Helene, whose eyes several times met those of the handsome\r
+young aide-de-camp with a smile.\r
+\r
+Speaking of the position of Prussia, Anna Pavlovna very naturally asked\r
+Boris to tell them about his journey to Glogau and in what state he\r
+found the Prussian army. Boris, speaking with deliberation, told them in\r
+pure, correct French many interesting details about the armies and the\r
+court, carefully abstaining from expressing an opinion of his own about\r
+the facts he was recounting. For some time he engrossed the general\r
+attention, and Anna Pavlovna felt that the novelty she had served up was\r
+received with pleasure by all her visitors. The greatest attention of\r
+all to Boris' narrative was shown by Helene. She asked him several\r
+questions about his journey and seemed greatly interested in the state\r
+of the Prussian army. As soon as he had finished she turned to him with\r
+her usual smile.\r
+\r
+"You absolutely must come and see me," she said in a tone that implied\r
+that, for certain considerations he could not know of, this was\r
+absolutely necessary.\r
+\r
+"On Tuesday between eight and nine. It will give me great pleasure."\r
+\r
+Boris promised to fulfill her wish and was about to begin a conversation\r
+with her, when Anna Pavlovna called him away on the pretext that her\r
+aunt wished to hear him.\r
+\r
+"You know her husband, of course?" said Anna Pavlovna, closing her eyes\r
+and indicating Helene with a sorrowful gesture. "Ah, she is such an\r
+unfortunate and charming woman! Don't mention him before her--please\r
+don't! It is too painful for her!"\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+When Boris and Anna Pavlovna returned to the others Prince Hippolyte had\r
+the ear of the company.\r
+\r
+Bending forward in his armchair he said: "Le Roi de Prusse!" and having\r
+said this laughed. Everyone turned toward him.\r
+\r
+"Le Roi de Prusse?" Hippolyte said interrogatively, again laughing, and\r
+then calmly and seriously sat back in his chair. Anna Pavlovna waited\r
+for him to go on, but as he seemed quite decided to say no more she\r
+began to tell of how at Potsdam the impious Bonaparte had stolen the\r
+sword of Frederick the Great.\r
+\r
+"It is the sword of Frederick the Great which I..." she began, but\r
+Hippolyte interrupted her with the words: "Le Roi de Prusse..." and\r
+again, as soon as all turned toward him, excused himself and said no\r
+more.\r
+\r
+Anna Pavlovna frowned. Mortemart, Hippolyte's friend, addressed him\r
+firmly.\r
+\r
+"Come now, what about your Roi de Prusse?"\r
+\r
+Hippolyte laughed as if ashamed of laughing.\r
+\r
+"Oh, it's nothing. I only wished to say..." (he wanted to repeat a joke\r
+he had heard in Vienna and which he had been trying all that evening to\r
+get in) "I only wished to say that we are wrong to fight pour le Roi de\r
+Prusse!"\r
+\r
+Boris smiled circumspectly, so that it might be taken as ironical or\r
+appreciative according to the way the joke was received. Everybody\r
+laughed.\r
+\r
+"Your joke is too bad, it's witty but unjust," said Anna Pavlovna,\r
+shaking her little shriveled finger at him.\r
+\r
+"We are not fighting pour le Roi de Prusse, but for right principles.\r
+Oh, that wicked Prince Hippolyte!" she said.\r
+\r
+The conversation did not flag all evening and turned chiefly on the\r
+political news. It became particularly animated toward the end of the\r
+evening when the rewards bestowed by the Emperor were mentioned.\r
+\r
+"You know N-- N-- received a snuffbox with the portrait last year?" said\r
+"the man of profound intellect." "Why shouldn't S-- S-- get the same\r
+distinction?"\r
+\r
+"Pardon me! A snuffbox with the Emperor's portrait is a reward but not a\r
+distinction," said the diplomatist--"a gift, rather."\r
+\r
+"There are precedents, I may mention Schwarzenberg."\r
+\r
+"It's impossible," replied another.\r
+\r
+"Will you bet? The ribbon of the order is a different matter...."\r
+\r
+When everybody rose to go, Helene who had spoken very little all the\r
+evening again turned to Boris, asking him in a tone of caressing\r
+significant command to come to her on Tuesday.\r
+\r
+"It is of great importance to me," she said, turning with a smile toward\r
+Anna Pavlovna, and Anna Pavlovna, with the same sad smile with which she\r
+spoke of her exalted patroness, supported Helene's wish.\r
+\r
+It seemed as if from some words Boris had spoken that evening about the\r
+Prussian army, Helene had suddenly found it necessary to see him. She\r
+seemed to promise to explain that necessity to him when he came on\r
+Tuesday.\r
+\r
+But on Tuesday evening, having come to Helene's splendid salon, Boris\r
+received no clear explanation of why it had been necessary for him to\r
+come. There were other guests and the countess talked little to him, and\r
+only as he kissed her hand on taking leave said unexpectedly and in a\r
+whisper, with a strangely unsmiling face: "Come to dinner tomorrow... in\r
+the evening. You must come.... Come!"\r
+\r
+During that stay in Petersburg, Boris became an intimate in the\r
+countess' house.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+The war was flaming up and nearing the Russian frontier. Everywhere one\r
+heard curses on Bonaparte, "the enemy of mankind." Militiamen and\r
+recruits were being enrolled in the villages, and from the seat of war\r
+came contradictory news, false as usual and therefore variously\r
+interpreted. The life of old Prince Bolkonski, Prince Andrew, and\r
+Princess Mary had greatly changed since 1805.\r
+\r
+In 1806 the old prince was made one of the eight commanders in chief\r
+then appointed to supervise the enrollment decreed throughout Russia.\r
+Despite the weakness of age, which had become particularly noticeable\r
+since the time when he thought his son had been killed, he did not think\r
+it right to refuse a duty to which he had been appointed by the Emperor\r
+himself, and this fresh opportunity for action gave him new energy and\r
+strength. He was continually traveling through the three provinces\r
+entrusted to him, was pedantic in the fulfillment of his duties, severe\r
+to cruel with his subordinates, and went into everything down to the\r
+minutest details himself. Princess Mary had ceased taking lessons in\r
+mathematics from her father, and when the old prince was at home went to\r
+his study with the wet nurse and little Prince Nicholas (as his\r
+grandfather called him). The baby Prince Nicholas lived with his wet\r
+nurse and nurse Savishna in the late princess' rooms and Princess Mary\r
+spent most of the day in the nursery, taking a mother's place to her\r
+little nephew as best she could. Mademoiselle Bourienne, too, seemed\r
+passionately fond of the boy, and Princess Mary often deprived herself\r
+to give her friend the pleasure of dandling the little angel--as she\r
+called her nephew--and playing with him.\r
+\r
+Near the altar of the church at Bald Hills there was a chapel over the\r
+tomb of the little princess, and in this chapel was a marble monument\r
+brought from Italy, representing an angel with outspread wings ready to\r
+fly upwards. The angel's upper lip was slightly raised as though about\r
+to smile, and once on coming out of the chapel Prince Andrew and\r
+Princess Mary admitted to one another that the angel's face reminded\r
+them strangely of the little princess. But what was still stranger,\r
+though of this Prince Andrew said nothing to his sister, was that in the\r
+expression the sculptor had happened to give the angel's face, Prince\r
+Andrew read the same mild reproach he had read on the face of his dead\r
+wife: "Ah, why have you done this to me?"\r
+\r
+Soon after Prince Andrew's return the old prince made over to him a\r
+large estate, Bogucharovo, about twenty-five miles from Bald Hills.\r
+Partly because of the depressing memories associated with Bald Hills,\r
+partly because Prince Andrew did not always feel equal to bearing with\r
+his father's peculiarities, and partly because he needed solitude,\r
+Prince Andrew made use of Bogucharovo, began building and spent most of\r
+his time there.\r
+\r
+After the Austerlitz campaign Prince Andrew had firmly resolved not to\r
+continue his military service, and when the war recommenced and\r
+everybody had to serve, he took a post under his father in the\r
+recruitment so as to avoid active service. The old prince and his son\r
+seemed to have changed roles since the campaign of 1805. The old man,\r
+roused by activity, expected the best results from the new campaign,\r
+while Prince Andrew on the contrary, taking no part in the war and\r
+secretly regretting this, saw only the dark side.\r
+\r
+On February 26, 1807, the old prince set off on one of his circuits.\r
+Prince Andrew remained at Bald Hills as usual during his father's\r
+absence. Little Nicholas had been unwell for four days. The coachman who\r
+had driven the old prince to town returned bringing papers and letters\r
+for Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+Not finding the young prince in his study the valet went with the\r
+letters to Princess Mary's apartments, but did not find him there. He\r
+was told that the prince had gone to the nursery.\r
+\r
+"If you please, your excellency, Petrusha has brought some papers," said\r
+one of the nursemaids to Prince Andrew who was sitting on a child's\r
+little chair while, frowning and with trembling hands, he poured drops\r
+from a medicine bottle into a wineglass half full of water.\r
+\r
+"What is it?" he said crossly, and, his hand shaking unintentionally, he\r
+poured too many drops into the glass. He threw the mixture onto the\r
+floor and asked for some more water. The maid brought it.\r
+\r
+There were in the room a child's cot, two boxes, two armchairs, a table,\r
+a child's table, and the little chair on which Prince Andrew was\r
+sitting. The curtains were drawn, and a single candle was burning on the\r
+table, screened by a bound music book so that the light did not fall on\r
+the cot.\r
+\r
+"My dear," said Princess Mary, addressing her brother from beside the\r
+cot where she was standing, "better wait a bit... later..."\r
+\r
+"Oh, leave off, you always talk nonsense and keep putting things off--\r
+and this is what comes of it!" said Prince Andrew in an exasperated\r
+whisper, evidently meaning to wound his sister.\r
+\r
+"My dear, really... it's better not to wake him... he's asleep," said\r
+the princess in a tone of entreaty.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew got up and went on tiptoe up to the little bed, wineglass\r
+in hand.\r
+\r
+"Perhaps we'd really better not wake him," he said hesitating.\r
+\r
+"As you please... really... I think so... but as you please," said\r
+Princess Mary, evidently intimidated and confused that her opinion had\r
+prevailed. She drew her brother's attention to the maid who was calling\r
+him in a whisper.\r
+\r
+It was the second night that neither of them had slept, watching the boy\r
+who was in a high fever. These last days, mistrusting their household\r
+doctor and expecting another for whom they had sent to town, they had\r
+been trying first one remedy and then another. Worn out by sleeplessness\r
+and anxiety they threw their burden of sorrow on one another and\r
+reproached and disputed with each other.\r
+\r
+"Petrusha has come with papers from your father," whispered the maid.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew went out.\r
+\r
+"Devil take them!" he muttered, and after listening to the verbal\r
+instructions his father had sent and taking the correspondence and his\r
+father's letter, he returned to the nursery.\r
+\r
+"Well?" he asked.\r
+\r
+"Still the same. Wait, for heaven's sake. Karl Ivanich always says that\r
+sleep is more important than anything," whispered Princess Mary with a\r
+sigh.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew went up to the child and felt him. He was burning hot.\r
+\r
+"Confound you and your Karl Ivanich!" He took the glass with the drops\r
+and again went up to the cot.\r
+\r
+"Andrew, don't!" said Princess Mary.\r
+\r
+But he scowled at her angrily though also with suffering in his eyes,\r
+and stooped glass in hand over the infant.\r
+\r
+"But I wish it," he said. "I beg you--give it him!"\r
+\r
+Princess Mary shrugged her shoulders but took the glass submissively and\r
+calling the nurse began giving the medicine. The child screamed\r
+hoarsely. Prince Andrew winced and, clutching his head, went out and sat\r
+down on a sofa in the next room.\r
+\r
+He still had all the letters in his hand. Opening them mechanically he\r
+began reading. The old prince, now and then using abbreviations, wrote\r
+in his large elongated hand on blue paper as follows:\r
+\r
+Have just this moment received by special messenger very joyful news--if\r
+it's not false. Bennigsen seems to have obtained a complete victory over\r
+Buonaparte at Eylau. In Petersburg everyone is rejoicing, and the\r
+rewards sent to the army are innumerable. Though he is a German--I\r
+congratulate him! I can't make out what the commander at Korchevo--a\r
+certain Khandrikov--is up to; till now the additional men and provisions\r
+have not arrived. Gallop off to him at once and say I'll have his head\r
+off if everything is not here in a week. Have received another letter\r
+about the Preussisch-Eylau battle from Petenka--he took part in it--and\r
+it's all true. When mischief-makers don't meddle even a German beats\r
+Buonaparte. He is said to be fleeing in great disorder. Mind you gallop\r
+off to Korchevo without delay and carry out instructions!\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew sighed and broke the seal of another envelope. It was a\r
+closely written letter of two sheets from Bilibin. He folded it up\r
+without reading it and reread his father's letter, ending with the\r
+words: "Gallop off to Korchevo and carry out instructions!"\r
+\r
+"No, pardon me, I won't go now till the child is better," thought he,\r
+going to the door and looking into the nursery.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary was still standing by the cot, gently rocking the baby.\r
+\r
+"Ah yes, and what else did he say that's unpleasant?" thought Prince\r
+Andrew, recalling his father's letter. "Yes, we have gained a victory\r
+over Bonaparte, just when I'm not serving. Yes, yes, he's always poking\r
+fun at me.... Ah, well! Let him!" And he began reading Bilibin's letter\r
+which was written in French. He read without understanding half of it,\r
+read only to forget, if but for a moment, what he had too long been\r
+thinking of so painfully to the exclusion of all else.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+Bilibin was now at army headquarters in a diplomatic capacity, and\r
+though he wrote in French and used French jests and French idioms, he\r
+described the whole campaign with a fearless self-censure and self-\r
+derision genuinely Russian. Bilibin wrote that the obligation of\r
+diplomatic discretion tormented him, and he was happy to have in Prince\r
+Andrew a reliable correspondent to whom he could pour out the bile he\r
+had accumulated at the sight of all that was being done in the army. The\r
+letter was old, having been written before the battle at Preussisch-\r
+Eylau.\r
+\r
+"Since the day of our brilliant success at Austerlitz," wrote Bilibin,\r
+"as you know, my dear prince, I never leave headquarters. I have\r
+certainly acquired a taste for war, and it is just as well for me; what\r
+I have seen during these last three months is incredible.\r
+\r
+"I begin ab ovo. 'The enemy of the human race,' as you know, attacks the\r
+Prussians. The Prussians are our faithful allies who have only betrayed\r
+us three times in three years. We take up their cause, but it turns out\r
+that 'the enemy of the human race' pays no heed to our fine speeches and\r
+in his rude and savage way throws himself on the Prussians without\r
+giving them time to finish the parade they had begun, and in two twists\r
+of the hand he breaks them to smithereens and installs himself in the\r
+palace at Potsdam.\r
+\r
+"'I most ardently desire,' writes the King of Prussia to Bonaparte,\r
+'that Your Majesty should be received and treated in my palace in a\r
+manner agreeable to yourself, and in so far as circumstances allowed, I\r
+have hastened to take all steps to that end. May I have succeeded!' The\r
+Prussian generals pride themselves on being polite to the French and lay\r
+down their arms at the first demand.\r
+\r
+"The head of the garrison at Glogau, with ten thousand men, asks the\r
+King of Prussia what he is to do if he is summoned to surrender.... All\r
+this is absolutely true.\r
+\r
+"In short, hoping to settle matters by taking up a warlike attitude, it\r
+turns out that we have landed ourselves in war, and what is more, in war\r
+on our own frontiers, with and for the King of Prussia. We have\r
+everything in perfect order, only one little thing is lacking, namely, a\r
+commander in chief. As it was considered that the Austerlitz success\r
+might have been more decisive had the commander-in-chief not been so\r
+young, all our octogenarians were reviewed, and of Prozorovski and\r
+Kamenski the latter was preferred. The general comes to us, Suvorov-\r
+like, in a kibitka, and is received with acclamations of joy and\r
+triumph.\r
+\r
+"On the 4th, the first courier arrives from Petersburg. The mails are\r
+taken to the field marshal's room, for he likes to do everything\r
+himself. I am called in to help sort the letters and take those meant\r
+for us. The field marshal looks on and waits for letters addressed to\r
+him. We search, but none are to be found. The field marshal grows\r
+impatient and sets to work himself and finds letters from the Emperor to\r
+Count T., Prince V., and others. Then he bursts into one of his wild\r
+furies and rages at everyone and everything, seizes the letters, opens\r
+them, and reads those from the Emperor addressed to others. 'Ah! So\r
+that's the way they treat me! No confidence in me! Ah, ordered to keep\r
+an eye on me! Very well then! Get along with you!' So he writes the\r
+famous order of the day to General Bennigsen:\r
+\r
+'I am wounded and cannot ride and consequently cannot command the army.\r
+You have brought your army corps to Pultusk, routed: here it is exposed,\r
+and without fuel or forage, so something must be done, and, as you\r
+yourself reported to Count Buxhowden yesterday, you must think of\r
+retreating to our frontier--which do today.'\r
+\r
+"'From all my riding,' he writes to the Emperor, 'I have got a saddle\r
+sore which, coming after all my previous journeys, quite prevents my\r
+riding and commanding so vast an army, so I have passed on the command\r
+to the general next in seniority, Count Buxhowden, having sent him my\r
+whole staff and all that belongs to it, advising him if there is a lack\r
+of bread, to move farther into the interior of Prussia, for only one\r
+day's ration of bread remains, and in some regiments none at all, as\r
+reported by the division commanders, Ostermann and Sedmoretzki, and all\r
+that the peasants had has been eaten up. I myself will remain in\r
+hospital at Ostrolenka till I recover. In regard to which I humbly\r
+submit my report, with the information that if the army remains in its\r
+present bivouac another fortnight there will not be a healthy man left\r
+in it by spring.\r
+\r
+"'Grant leave to retire to his country seat to an old man who is already\r
+in any case dishonored by being unable to fulfill the great and glorious\r
+task for which he was chosen. I shall await your most gracious\r
+permission here in hospital, that I may not have to play the part of a\r
+secretary rather than commander in the army. My removal from the army\r
+does not produce the slightest stir--a blind man has left it. There are\r
+thousands such as I in Russia.'\r
+\r
+"The field marshal is angry with the Emperor and he punishes us all,\r
+isn't it logical?\r
+\r
+"This is the first act. Those that follow are naturally increasingly\r
+interesting and entertaining. After the field marshal's departure it\r
+appears that we are within sight of the enemy and must give battle.\r
+Buxhowden is commander-in-chief by seniority, but General Bennigsen does\r
+not quite see it; more particularly as it is he and his corps who are\r
+within sight of the enemy and he wishes to profit by the opportunity to\r
+fight a battle 'on his own hand' as the Germans say. He does so. This is\r
+the battle of Pultusk, which is considered a great victory but in my\r
+opinion was nothing of the kind. We civilians, as you know, have a very\r
+bad way of deciding whether a battle was won or lost. Those who retreat\r
+after a battle have lost it is what we say; and according to that it is\r
+we who lost the battle of Pultusk. In short, we retreat after the battle\r
+but send a courier to Petersburg with news of a victory, and General\r
+Bennigsen, hoping to receive from Petersburg the post of commander in\r
+chief as a reward for his victory, does not give up the command of the\r
+army to General Buxhowden. During this interregnum we begin a very\r
+original and interesting series of maneuvers. Our aim is no longer, as\r
+it should be, to avoid or attack the enemy, but solely to avoid General\r
+Buxhowden who by right of seniority should be our chief. So\r
+energetically do we pursue this aim that after crossing an unfordable\r
+river we burn the bridges to separate ourselves from our enemy, who at\r
+the moment is not Bonaparte but Buxhowden. General Buxhowden was all but\r
+attacked and captured by a superior enemy force as a result of one of\r
+these maneuvers that enabled us to escape him. Buxhowden pursues us--we\r
+scuttle. He hardly crosses the river to our side before we recross to\r
+the other. At last our enemy, Buxhowden, catches us and attacks. Both\r
+generals are angry, and the result is a challenge on Buxhowden's part\r
+and an epileptic fit on Bennigsen's. But at the critical moment the\r
+courier who carried the news of our victory at Pultusk to Petersburg\r
+returns bringing our appointment as commander-in-chief, and our first\r
+foe, Buxhowden, is vanquished; we can now turn our thoughts to the\r
+second, Bonaparte. But as it turns out, just at that moment a third\r
+enemy rises before us--namely the Orthodox Russian soldiers, loudly\r
+demanding bread, meat, biscuits, fodder, and whatnot! The stores are\r
+empty, the roads impassable. The Orthodox begin looting, and in a way of\r
+which our last campaign can give you no idea. Half the regiments form\r
+bands and scour the countryside and put everything to fire and sword.\r
+The inhabitants are totally ruined, the hospitals overflow with sick,\r
+and famine is everywhere. Twice the marauders even attack our\r
+headquarters, and the commander-in-chief has to ask for a battalion to\r
+disperse them. During one of these attacks they carried off my empty\r
+portmanteau and my dressing gown. The Emperor proposes to give all\r
+commanders of divisions the right to shoot marauders, but I much fear\r
+this will oblige one half the army to shoot the other."\r
+\r
+At first Prince Andrew read with his eyes only, but after a while, in\r
+spite of himself (although he knew how far it was safe to trust\r
+Bilibin), what he had read began to interest him more and more. When he\r
+had read thus far, he crumpled the letter up and threw it away. It was\r
+not what he had read that vexed him, but the fact that the life out\r
+there in which he had now no part could perturb him. He shut his eyes,\r
+rubbed his forehead as if to rid himself of all interest in what he had\r
+read, and listened to what was passing in the nursery. Suddenly he\r
+thought he heard a strange noise through the door. He was seized with\r
+alarm lest something should have happened to the child while he was\r
+reading the letter. He went on tiptoe to the nursery door and opened it.\r
+\r
+Just as he went in he saw that the nurse was hiding something from him\r
+with a scared look and that Princess Mary was no longer by the cot.\r
+\r
+"My dear," he heard what seemed to him her despairing whisper behind\r
+him.\r
+\r
+As often happens after long sleeplessness and long anxiety, he was\r
+seized by an unreasoning panic--it occurred to him that the child was\r
+dead. All that he saw and heard seemed to confirm this terror.\r
+\r
+"All is over," he thought, and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead.\r
+He went to the cot in confusion, sure that he would find it empty and\r
+that the nurse had been hiding the dead baby. He drew the curtain aside\r
+and for some time his frightened, restless eyes could not find the baby.\r
+At last he saw him: the rosy boy had tossed about till he lay across the\r
+bed with his head lower than the pillow, and was smacking his lips in\r
+his sleep and breathing evenly.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew was as glad to find the boy like that, as if he had\r
+already lost him. He bent over him and, as his sister had taught him,\r
+tried with his lips whether the child was still feverish. The soft\r
+forehead was moist. Prince Andrew touched the head with his hand; even\r
+the hair was wet, so profusely had the child perspired. He was not dead,\r
+but evidently the crisis was over and he was convalescent. Prince Andrew\r
+longed to snatch up, to squeeze, to hold to his heart, this helpless\r
+little creature, but dared not do so. He stood over him, gazing at his\r
+head and at the little arms and legs which showed under the blanket. He\r
+heard a rustle behind him and a shadow appeared under the curtain of the\r
+cot. He did not look round, but still gazing at the infant's face\r
+listened to his regular breathing. The dark shadow was Princess Mary,\r
+who had come up to the cot with noiseless steps, lifted the curtain, and\r
+dropped it again behind her. Prince Andrew recognized her without\r
+looking and held out his hand to her. She pressed it.\r
+\r
+"He has perspired," said Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+"I was coming to tell you so."\r
+\r
+The child moved slightly in his sleep, smiled, and rubbed his forehead\r
+against the pillow.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew looked at his sister. In the dim shadow of the curtain her\r
+luminous eyes shone more brightly than usual from the tears of joy that\r
+were in them. She leaned over to her brother and kissed him, slightly\r
+catching the curtain of the cot. Each made the other a warning gesture\r
+and stood still in the dim light beneath the curtain as if not wishing\r
+to leave that seclusion where they three were shut off from all the\r
+world. Prince Andrew was the first to move away, ruffling his hair\r
+against the muslin of the curtain.\r
+\r
+"Yes, this is the one thing left me now," he said with a sigh.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+Soon after his admission to the masonic Brotherhood, Pierre went to the\r
+Kiev province, where he had the greatest number of serfs, taking with\r
+him full directions which he had written down for his own guidance as to\r
+what he should do on his estates.\r
+\r
+When he reached Kiev he sent for all his stewards to the head office and\r
+explained to them his intentions and wishes. He told them that steps\r
+would be taken immediately to free his serfs--and that till then they\r
+were not to be overburdened with labor, women while nursing their babies\r
+were not to be sent to work, assistance was to be given to the serfs,\r
+punishments were to be admonitory and not corporal, and hospitals,\r
+asylums, and schools were to be established on all the estates. Some of\r
+the stewards (there were semiliterate foremen among them) listened with\r
+alarm, supposing these words to mean that the young count was displeased\r
+with their management and embezzlement of money, some after their first\r
+fright were amused by Pierre's lisp and the new words they had not heard\r
+before, others simply enjoyed hearing how the master talked, while the\r
+cleverest among them, including the chief steward, understood from this\r
+speech how they could best handle the master for their own ends.\r
+\r
+The chief steward expressed great sympathy with Pierre's intentions, but\r
+remarked that besides these changes it would be necessary to go into the\r
+general state of affairs which was far from satisfactory.\r
+\r
+Despite Count Bezukhov's enormous wealth, since he had come into an\r
+income which was said to amount to five hundred thousand rubles a year,\r
+Pierre felt himself far poorer than when his father had made him an\r
+allowance of ten thousand rubles. He had a dim perception of the\r
+following budget:\r
+\r
+About 80,000 went in payments on all the estates to the Land Bank, about\r
+30,000 went for the upkeep of the estate near Moscow, the town house,\r
+and the allowance to the three princesses; about 15,000 was given in\r
+pensions and the same amount for asylums; 150,000 alimony was sent to\r
+the countess; about 70,000 went for interest on debts. The building of a\r
+new church, previously begun, had cost about 10,000 in each of the last\r
+two years, and he did not know how the rest, about 100,000 rubles, was\r
+spent, and almost every year he was obliged to borrow. Besides this the\r
+chief steward wrote every year telling him of fires and bad harvests, or\r
+of the necessity of rebuilding factories and workshops. So the first\r
+task Pierre had to face was one for which he had very little aptitude or\r
+inclination--practical business.\r
+\r
+He discussed estate affairs every day with his chief steward. But he\r
+felt that this did not forward matters at all. He felt that these\r
+consultations were detached from real affairs and did not link up with\r
+them or make them move. On the one hand, the chief steward put the state\r
+of things to him in the very worst light, pointing out the necessity of\r
+paying off the debts and undertaking new activities with serf labor, to\r
+which Pierre did not agree. On the other hand, Pierre demanded that\r
+steps should be taken to liberate the serfs, which the steward met by\r
+showing the necessity of first paying off the loans from the Land Bank,\r
+and the consequent impossibility of a speedy emancipation.\r
+\r
+The steward did not say it was quite impossible, but suggested selling\r
+the forests in the province of Kostroma, the land lower down the river,\r
+and the Crimean estate, in order to make it possible: all of which\r
+operations according to him were connected with such complicated\r
+measures--the removal of injunctions, petitions, permits, and so on--\r
+that Pierre became quite bewildered and only replied:\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes, do so."\r
+\r
+Pierre had none of the practical persistence that would have enabled him\r
+to attend to the business himself and so he disliked it and only tried\r
+to pretend to the steward that he was attending to it. The steward for\r
+his part tried to pretend to the count that he considered these\r
+consultations very valuable for the proprietor and troublesome to\r
+himself.\r
+\r
+In Kiev Pierre found some people he knew, and strangers hastened to make\r
+his acquaintance and joyfully welcomed the rich newcomer, the largest\r
+landowner of the province. Temptations to Pierre's greatest weakness--\r
+the one to which he had confessed when admitted to the Lodge--were so\r
+strong that he could not resist them. Again whole days, weeks, and\r
+months of his life passed in as great a rush and were as much occupied\r
+with evening parties, dinners, lunches, and balls, giving him no time\r
+for reflection, as in Petersburg. Instead of the new life he had hoped\r
+to lead he still lived the old life, only in new surroundings.\r
+\r
+Of the three precepts of Freemasonry Pierre realized that he did not\r
+fulfill the one which enjoined every Mason to set an example of moral\r
+life, and that of the seven virtues he lacked two--morality and the love\r
+of death. He consoled himself with the thought that he fulfilled another\r
+of the precepts--that of reforming the human race--and had other\r
+virtues--love of his neighbor, and especially generosity.\r
+\r
+In the spring of 1807 he decided to return to Petersburg. On the way he\r
+intended to visit all his estates and see for himself how far his orders\r
+had been carried out and in what state were the serfs whom God had\r
+entrusted to his care and whom he intended to benefit.\r
+\r
+The chief steward, who considered the young count's attempts almost\r
+insane--unprofitable to himself, to the count, and to the serfs--made\r
+some concessions. Continuing to represent the liberation of the serfs as\r
+impracticable, he arranged for the erection of large buildings--schools,\r
+hospitals, and asylums--on all the estates before the master arrived.\r
+Everywhere preparations were made not for ceremonious welcomes (which he\r
+knew Pierre would not like), but for just such gratefully religious\r
+ones, with offerings of icons and the bread and salt of hospitality, as,\r
+according to his understanding of his master, would touch and delude\r
+him.\r
+\r
+The southern spring, the comfortable rapid traveling in a Vienna\r
+carriage, and the solitude of the road, all had a gladdening effect on\r
+Pierre. The estates he had not before visited were each more picturesque\r
+than the other; the serfs everywhere seemed thriving and touchingly\r
+grateful for the benefits conferred on them. Everywhere were receptions,\r
+which though they embarrassed Pierre awakened a joyful feeling in the\r
+depth of his heart. In one place the peasants presented him with bread\r
+and salt and an icon of Saint Peter and Saint Paul, asking permission,\r
+as a mark of their gratitude for the benefits he had conferred on them,\r
+to build a new chantry to the church at their own expense in honor of\r
+Peter and Paul, his patron saints. In another place the women with\r
+infants in arms met him to thank him for releasing them from hard work.\r
+On a third estate the priest, bearing a cross, came to meet him\r
+surrounded by children whom, by the count's generosity, he was\r
+instructing in reading, writing, and religion. On all his estates Pierre\r
+saw with his own eyes brick buildings erected or in course of erection,\r
+all on one plan, for hospitals, schools, and almshouses, which were soon\r
+to be opened. Everywhere he saw the stewards' accounts, according to\r
+which the serfs' manorial labor had been diminished, and heard the\r
+touching thanks of deputations of serfs in their full-skirted blue\r
+coats.\r
+\r
+What Pierre did not know was that the place where they presented him\r
+with bread and salt and wished to build a chantry in honor of Peter and\r
+Paul was a market village where a fair was held on St. Peter's day, and\r
+that the richest peasants (who formed the deputation) had begun the\r
+chantry long before, but that nine tenths of the peasants in that\r
+villages were in a state of the greatest poverty. He did not know that\r
+since the nursing mothers were no longer sent to work on his land, they\r
+did still harder work on their own land. He did not know that the priest\r
+who met him with the cross oppressed the peasants by his exactions, and\r
+that the pupils' parents wept at having to let him take their children\r
+and secured their release by heavy payments. He did not know that the\r
+brick buildings, built to plan, were being built by serfs whose manorial\r
+labor was thus increased, though lessened on paper. He did not know that\r
+where the steward had shown him in the accounts that the serfs' payments\r
+had been diminished by a third, their obligatory manorial work had been\r
+increased by a half. And so Pierre was delighted with his visit to his\r
+estates and quite recovered the philanthropic mood in which he had left\r
+Petersburg, and wrote enthusiastic letters to his "brother-instructor"\r
+as he called the Grand Master.\r
+\r
+"How easy it is, how little effort it needs, to do so much good,"\r
+thought Pierre, "and how little attention we pay to it!"\r
+\r
+He was pleased at the gratitude he received, but felt abashed at\r
+receiving it. This gratitude reminded him of how much more he might do\r
+for these simple, kindly people.\r
+\r
+The chief steward, a very stupid but cunning man who saw perfectly\r
+through the naive and intelligent count and played with him as with a\r
+toy, seeing the effect these prearranged receptions had on Pierre,\r
+pressed him still harder with proofs of the impossibility and above all\r
+the uselessness of freeing the serfs, who were quite happy as it was.\r
+\r
+Pierre in his secret soul agreed with the steward that it would be\r
+difficult to imagine happier people, and that God only knew what would\r
+happen to them when they were free, but he insisted, though reluctantly,\r
+on what he thought right. The steward promised to do all in his power to\r
+carry out the count's wishes, seeing clearly that not only would the\r
+count never be able to find out whether all measures had been taken for\r
+the sale of the land and forests and to release them from the Land Bank,\r
+but would probably never even inquire and would never know that the\r
+newly erected buildings were standing empty and that the serfs continued\r
+to give in money and work all that other people's serfs gave--that is to\r
+say, all that could be got out of them.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+Returning from his journey through South Russia in the happiest state of\r
+mind, Pierre carried out an intention he had long had of visiting his\r
+friend Bolkonski, whom he had not seen for two years.\r
+\r
+Bogucharovo lay in a flat uninteresting part of the country among fields\r
+and forests of fir and birch, which were partly cut down. The house lay\r
+behind a newly dug pond filled with water to the brink and with banks\r
+still bare of grass. It was at the end of a village that stretched along\r
+the highroad in the midst of a young copse in which were a few fir\r
+trees.\r
+\r
+The homestead consisted of a threshing floor, outhouses, stables, a\r
+bathhouse, a lodge, and a large brick house with semicircular facade\r
+still in course of construction. Round the house was a garden newly laid\r
+out. The fences and gates were new and solid; two fire pumps and a water\r
+cart, painted green, stood in a shed; the paths were straight, the\r
+bridges were strong and had handrails. Everything bore an impress of\r
+tidiness and good management. Some domestic serfs Pierre met, in reply\r
+to inquiries as to where the prince lived, pointed out a small newly\r
+built lodge close to the pond. Anton, a man who had looked after Prince\r
+Andrew in his boyhood, helped Pierre out of his carriage, said that the\r
+prince was at home, and showed him into a clean little anteroom.\r
+\r
+Pierre was struck by the modesty of the small though clean house after\r
+the brilliant surroundings in which he had last met his friend in\r
+Petersburg.\r
+\r
+He quickly entered the small reception room with its still-unplastered\r
+wooden walls redolent of pine, and would have gone farther, but Anton\r
+ran ahead on tiptoe and knocked at a door.\r
+\r
+"Well, what is it?" came a sharp, unpleasant voice.\r
+\r
+"A visitor," answered Anton.\r
+\r
+"Ask him to wait," and the sound was heard of a chair being pushed back.\r
+\r
+Pierre went with rapid steps to the door and suddenly came face to face\r
+with Prince Andrew, who came out frowning and looking old. Pierre\r
+embraced him and lifting his spectacles kissed his friend on the cheek\r
+and looked at him closely.\r
+\r
+"Well, I did not expect you, I am very glad," said Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+Pierre said nothing; he looked fixedly at his friend with surprise. He\r
+was struck by the change in him. His words were kindly and there was a\r
+smile on his lips and face, but his eyes were dull and lifeless and in\r
+spite of his evident wish to do so he could not give them a joyous and\r
+glad sparkle. Prince Andrew had grown thinner, paler, and more manly-\r
+looking, but what amazed and estranged Pierre till he got used to it\r
+were his inertia and a wrinkle on his brow indicating prolonged\r
+concentration on some one thought.\r
+\r
+As is usually the case with people meeting after a prolonged separation,\r
+it was long before their conversation could settle on anything. They put\r
+questions and gave brief replies about things they knew ought to be\r
+talked over at length. At last the conversation gradually settled on\r
+some of the topics at first lightly touched on: their past life, plans\r
+for the future, Pierre's journeys and occupations, the war, and so on.\r
+The preoccupation and despondency which Pierre had noticed in his\r
+friend's look was now still more clearly expressed in the smile with\r
+which he listened to Pierre, especially when he spoke with joyful\r
+animation of the past or the future. It was as if Prince Andrew would\r
+have liked to sympathize with what Pierre was saying, but could not. The\r
+latter began to feel that it was in bad taste to speak of his\r
+enthusiasms, dreams, and hopes of happiness or goodness, in Prince\r
+Andrew's presence. He was ashamed to express his new masonic views,\r
+which had been particularly revived and strengthened by his late tour.\r
+He checked himself, fearing to seem naive, yet he felt an irresistible\r
+desire to show his friend as soon as possible that he was now a quite\r
+different, and better, Pierre than he had been in Petersburg.\r
+\r
+"I can't tell you how much I have lived through since then. I hardly\r
+know myself again."\r
+\r
+"Yes, we have altered much, very much, since then," said Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+"Well, and you? What are your plans?"\r
+\r
+"Plans!" repeated Prince Andrew ironically. "My plans?" he said, as if\r
+astonished at the word. "Well, you see, I'm building. I mean to settle\r
+here altogether next year...."\r
+\r
+Pierre looked silently and searchingly into Prince Andrew's face, which\r
+had grown much older.\r
+\r
+"No, I meant to ask..." Pierre began, but Prince Andrew interrupted him.\r
+\r
+"But why talk of me?... Talk to me, yes, tell me about your travels and\r
+all you have been doing on your estates."\r
+\r
+Pierre began describing what he had done on his estates, trying as far\r
+as possible to conceal his own part in the improvements that had been\r
+made. Prince Andrew several times prompted Pierre's story of what he had\r
+been doing, as though it were all an old-time story, and he listened not\r
+only without interest but even as if ashamed of what Pierre was telling\r
+him.\r
+\r
+Pierre felt uncomfortable and even depressed in his friend's company and\r
+at last became silent.\r
+\r
+"I'll tell you what, my dear fellow," said Prince Andrew, who evidently\r
+also felt depressed and constrained with his visitor, "I am only\r
+bivouacking here and have just come to look round. I am going back to my\r
+sister today. I will introduce you to her. But of course you know her\r
+already," he said, evidently trying to entertain a visitor with whom he\r
+now found nothing in common. "We will go after dinner. And would you now\r
+like to look round my place?"\r
+\r
+They went out and walked about till dinnertime, talking of the political\r
+news and common acquaintances like people who do not know each other\r
+intimately. Prince Andrew spoke with some animation and interest only of\r
+the new homestead he was constructing and its buildings, but even here,\r
+while on the scaffolding, in the midst of a talk explaining the future\r
+arrangements of the house, he interrupted himself:\r
+\r
+"However, this is not at all interesting. Let us have dinner, and then\r
+we'll set off."\r
+\r
+At dinner, conversation turned on Pierre's marriage.\r
+\r
+"I was very much surprised when I heard of it," said Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+Pierre blushed, as he always did when it was mentioned, and said\r
+hurriedly: "I will tell you some time how it all happened. But you know\r
+it is all over, and forever."\r
+\r
+"Forever?" said Prince Andrew. "Nothing's forever."\r
+\r
+"But you know how it all ended, don't you? You heard of the duel?"\r
+\r
+"And so you had to go through that too!"\r
+\r
+"One thing I thank God for is that I did not kill that man," said\r
+Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Why so?" asked Prince Andrew. "To kill a vicious dog is a very good\r
+thing really."\r
+\r
+"No, to kill a man is bad--wrong."\r
+\r
+"Why is it wrong?" urged Prince Andrew. "It is not given to man to know\r
+what is right and what is wrong. Men always did and always will err, and\r
+in nothing more than in what they consider right and wrong."\r
+\r
+"What does harm to another is wrong," said Pierre, feeling with pleasure\r
+that for the first time since his arrival Prince Andrew was roused, had\r
+begun to talk, and wanted to express what had brought him to his present\r
+state.\r
+\r
+"And who has told you what is bad for another man?" he asked.\r
+\r
+"Bad! Bad!" exclaimed Pierre. "We all know what is bad for ourselves."\r
+\r
+"Yes, we know that, but the harm I am conscious of in myself is\r
+something I cannot inflict on others," said Prince Andrew, growing more\r
+and more animated and evidently wishing to express his new outlook to\r
+Pierre. He spoke in French. "I only know two very real evils in life:\r
+remorse and illness. The only good is the absence of those evils. To\r
+live for myself avoiding those two evils is my whole philosophy now."\r
+\r
+"And love of one's neighbor, and self-sacrifice?" began Pierre. "No, I\r
+can't agree with you! To live only so as not to do evil and not to have\r
+to repent is not enough. I lived like that, I lived for myself and\r
+ruined my life. And only now when I am living, or at least trying"\r
+(Pierre's modesty made him correct himself) "to live for others, only\r
+now have I understood all the happiness of life. No, I shall not agree\r
+with you, and you do not really believe what you are saying." Prince\r
+Andrew looked silently at Pierre with an ironic smile.\r
+\r
+"When you see my sister, Princess Mary, you'll get on with her," he\r
+said. "Perhaps you are right for yourself," he added after a short\r
+pause, "but everyone lives in his own way. You lived for yourself and\r
+say you nearly ruined your life and only found happiness when you began\r
+living for others. I experienced just the reverse. I lived for glory.--\r
+And after all what is glory? The same love of others, a desire to do\r
+something for them, a desire for their approval.--So I lived for others,\r
+and not almost, but quite, ruined my life. And I have become calmer\r
+since I began to live only for myself."\r
+\r
+"But what do you mean by living only for yourself?" asked Pierre,\r
+growing excited. "What about your son, your sister, and your father?"\r
+\r
+"But that's just the same as myself--they are not others," explained\r
+Prince Andrew. "The others, one's neighbors, le prochain, as you and\r
+Princess Mary call it, are the chief source of all error and evil. Le\r
+prochain--your Kiev peasants to whom you want to do good."\r
+\r
+And he looked at Pierre with a mocking, challenging expression. He\r
+evidently wished to draw him on.\r
+\r
+"You are joking," replied Pierre, growing more and more excited. "What\r
+error or evil can there be in my wishing to do good, and even doing a\r
+little--though I did very little and did it very badly? What evil can\r
+there be in it if unfortunate people, our serfs, people like ourselves,\r
+were growing up and dying with no idea of God and truth beyond\r
+ceremonies and meaningless prayers and are now instructed in a\r
+comforting belief in future life, retribution, recompense, and\r
+consolation? What evil and error are there in it, if people were dying\r
+of disease without help while material assistance could so easily be\r
+rendered, and I supplied them with a doctor, a hospital, and an asylum\r
+for the aged? And is it not a palpable, unquestionable good if a\r
+peasant, or a woman with a baby, has no rest day or night and I give\r
+them rest and leisure?" said Pierre, hurrying and lisping. "And I have\r
+done that though badly and to a small extent; but I have done something\r
+toward it and you cannot persuade me that it was not a good action, and\r
+more than that, you can't make me believe that you do not think so\r
+yourself. And the main thing is," he continued, "that I know, and know\r
+for certain, that the enjoyment of doing this good is the only sure\r
+happiness in life."\r
+\r
+"Yes, if you put it like that it's quite a different matter," said\r
+Prince Andrew. "I build a house and lay out a garden, and you build\r
+hospitals. The one and the other may serve as a pastime. But what's\r
+right and what's good must be judged by one who knows all, but not by\r
+us. Well, you want an argument," he added, "come on then."\r
+\r
+They rose from the table and sat down in the entrance porch which served\r
+as a veranda.\r
+\r
+"Come, let's argue then," said Prince Andrew, "You talk of schools," he\r
+went on, crooking a finger, "education and so forth; that is, you want\r
+to raise him" (pointing to a peasant who passed by them taking off his\r
+cap) "from his animal condition and awaken in him spiritual needs, while\r
+it seems to me that animal happiness is the only happiness possible, and\r
+that is just what you want to deprive him of. I envy him, but you want\r
+to make him what I am, without giving him my means. Then you say,\r
+'lighten his toil.' But as I see it, physical labor is as essential to\r
+him, as much a condition of his existence, as mental activity is to you\r
+or me. You can't help thinking. I go to bed after two in the morning,\r
+thoughts come and I can't sleep but toss about till dawn, because I\r
+think and can't help thinking, just as he can't help plowing and mowing;\r
+if he didn't, he would go to the drink shop or fall ill. Just as I could\r
+not stand his terrible physical labor but should die of it in a week, so\r
+he could not stand my physical idleness, but would grow fat and die. The\r
+third thing--what else was it you talked about?" and Prince Andrew\r
+crooked a third finger. "Ah, yes, hospitals, medicine. He has a fit, he\r
+is dying, and you come and bleed him and patch him up. He will drag\r
+about as a cripple, a burden to everybody, for another ten years. It\r
+would be far easier and simpler for him to die. Others are being born\r
+and there are plenty of them as it is. It would be different if you\r
+grudged losing a laborer--that's how I regard him--but you want to cure\r
+him from love of him. And he does not want that. And besides, what a\r
+notion that medicine ever cured anyone! Killed them, yes!" said he,\r
+frowning angrily and turning away from Pierre.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew expressed his ideas so clearly and distinctly that it was\r
+evident he had reflected on this subject more than once, and he spoke\r
+readily and rapidly like a man who has not talked for a long time. His\r
+glance became more animated as his conclusions became more hopeless.\r
+\r
+"Oh, that is dreadful, dreadful!" said Pierre. "I don't understand how\r
+one can live with such ideas. I had such moments myself not long ago, in\r
+Moscow and when traveling, but at such times I collapsed so that I don't\r
+live at all--everything seems hateful to me... myself most of all. Then\r
+I don't eat, don't wash... and how is it with you?..."\r
+\r
+"Why not wash? That is not cleanly," said Prince Andrew; "on the\r
+contrary one must try to make one's life as pleasant as possible. I'm\r
+alive, that is not my fault, so I must live out my life as best I can\r
+without hurting others."\r
+\r
+"But with such ideas what motive have you for living? One would sit\r
+without moving, undertaking nothing...."\r
+\r
+"Life as it is leaves one no peace. I should be thankful to do nothing,\r
+but here on the one hand the local nobility have done me the honor to\r
+choose me to be their marshal; it was all I could do to get out of it.\r
+They could not understand that I have not the necessary qualifications\r
+for it--the kind of good-natured, fussy shallowness necessary for the\r
+position. Then there's this house, which must be built in order to have\r
+a nook of one's own in which to be quiet. And now there's this\r
+recruiting."\r
+\r
+"Why aren't you serving in the army?"\r
+\r
+"After Austerlitz!" said Prince Andrew gloomily. "No, thank you very\r
+much! I have promised myself not to serve again in the active Russian\r
+army. And I won't--not even if Bonaparte were here at Smolensk\r
+threatening Bald Hills--even then I wouldn't serve in the Russian army!\r
+Well, as I was saying," he continued, recovering his composure, "now\r
+there's this recruiting. My father is chief in command of the Third\r
+District, and my only way of avoiding active service is to serve under\r
+him."\r
+\r
+"Then you are serving?"\r
+\r
+"I am."\r
+\r
+He paused a little while.\r
+\r
+"And why do you serve?"\r
+\r
+"Why, for this reason! My father is one of the most remarkable men of\r
+his time. But he is growing old, and though not exactly cruel he has too\r
+energetic a character. He is so accustomed to unlimited power that he is\r
+terrible, and now he has this authority of a commander-in-chief of the\r
+recruiting, granted by the Emperor. If I had been two hours late a\r
+fortnight ago he would have had a paymaster's clerk at Yukhnovna\r
+hanged," said Prince Andrew with a smile. "So I am serving because I\r
+alone have any influence with my father, and now and then can save him\r
+from actions which would torment him afterwards."\r
+\r
+"Well, there you see!"\r
+\r
+"Yes, but it is not as you imagine," Prince Andrew continued. "I did\r
+not, and do not, in the least care about that scoundrel of a clerk who\r
+had stolen some boots from the recruits; I should even have been very\r
+glad to see him hanged, but I was sorry for my father--that again is for\r
+myself."\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew grew more and more animated. His eyes glittered feverishly\r
+while he tried to prove to Pierre that in his actions there was no\r
+desire to do good to his neighbor.\r
+\r
+"There now, you wish to liberate your serfs," he continued; "that is a\r
+very good thing, but not for you--I don't suppose you ever had anyone\r
+flogged or sent to Siberia--and still less for your serfs. If they are\r
+beaten, flogged, or sent to Siberia, I don't suppose they are any the\r
+worse off. In Siberia they lead the same animal life, and the stripes on\r
+their bodies heal, and they are happy as before. But it is a good thing\r
+for proprietors who perish morally, bring remorse upon themselves,\r
+stifle this remorse and grow callous, as a result of being able to\r
+inflict punishments justly and unjustly. It is those people I pity, and\r
+for their sake I should like to liberate the serfs. You may not have\r
+seen, but I have seen, how good men brought up in those traditions of\r
+unlimited power, in time when they grow more irritable, become cruel and\r
+harsh, are conscious of it, but cannot restrain themselves and grow more\r
+and more miserable."\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew spoke so earnestly that Pierre could not help thinking\r
+that these thoughts had been suggested to Prince Andrew by his father's\r
+case.\r
+\r
+He did not reply.\r
+\r
+"So that's what I'm sorry for--human dignity, peace of mind, purity, and\r
+not the serfs' backs and foreheads, which, beat and shave as you may,\r
+always remain the same backs and foreheads."\r
+\r
+"No, no! A thousand times no! I shall never agree with you," said\r
+Pierre.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+In the evening Andrew and Pierre got into the open carriage and drove to\r
+Bald Hills. Prince Andrew, glancing at Pierre, broke the silence now and\r
+then with remarks which showed that he was in a good temper.\r
+\r
+Pointing to the fields, he spoke of the improvements he was making in\r
+his husbandry.\r
+\r
+Pierre remained gloomily silent, answering in monosyllables and\r
+apparently immersed in his own thoughts.\r
+\r
+He was thinking that Prince Andrew was unhappy, had gone astray, did not\r
+see the true light, and that he, Pierre, ought to aid, enlighten, and\r
+raise him. But as soon as he thought of what he should say, he felt that\r
+Prince Andrew with one word, one argument, would upset all his teaching,\r
+and he shrank from beginning, afraid of exposing to possible ridicule\r
+what to him was precious and sacred.\r
+\r
+"No, but why do you think so?" Pierre suddenly began, lowering his head\r
+and looking like a bull about to charge, "why do you think so? You\r
+should not think so."\r
+\r
+"Think? What about?" asked Prince Andrew with surprise.\r
+\r
+"About life, about man's destiny. It can't be so. I myself thought like\r
+that, and do you know what saved me? Freemasonry! No, don't smile.\r
+Freemasonry is not a religious ceremonial sect, as I thought it was:\r
+Freemasonry is the best expression of the best, the eternal, aspects of\r
+humanity."\r
+\r
+And he began to explain Freemasonry as he understood it to Prince\r
+Andrew. He said that Freemasonry is the teaching of Christianity freed\r
+from the bonds of State and Church, a teaching of equality, brotherhood,\r
+and love.\r
+\r
+"Only our holy brotherhood has the real meaning of life, all the rest is\r
+a dream," said Pierre. "Understand, my dear fellow, that outside this\r
+union all is filled with deceit and falsehood and I agree with you that\r
+nothing is left for an intelligent and good man but to live out his\r
+life, like you, merely trying not to harm others. But make our\r
+fundamental convictions your own, join our brotherhood, give yourself up\r
+to us, let yourself be guided, and you will at once feel yourself, as I\r
+have felt myself, a part of that vast invisible chain the beginning of\r
+which is hidden in heaven," said Pierre.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew, looking straight in front of him, listened in silence to\r
+Pierre's words. More than once, when the noise of the wheels prevented\r
+his catching what Pierre said, he asked him to repeat it, and by the\r
+peculiar glow that came into Prince Andrew's eyes and by his silence,\r
+Pierre saw that his words were not in vain and that Prince Andrew would\r
+not interrupt him or laugh at what he said.\r
+\r
+They reached a river that had overflowed its banks and which they had to\r
+cross by ferry. While the carriage and horses were being placed on it,\r
+they also stepped on the raft.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew, leaning his arms on the raft railing, gazed silently at\r
+the flooding waters glittering in the setting sun.\r
+\r
+"Well, what do you think about it?" Pierre asked. "Why are you silent?"\r
+\r
+"What do I think about it? I am listening to you. It's all very well....\r
+You say: join our brotherhood and we will show you the aim of life, the\r
+destiny of man, and the laws which govern the world. But who are we?\r
+Men. How is it you know everything? Why do I alone not see what you see?\r
+You see a reign of goodness and truth on earth, but I don't see it."\r
+\r
+Pierre interrupted him.\r
+\r
+"Do you believe in a future life?" he asked.\r
+\r
+"A future life?" Prince Andrew repeated, but Pierre, giving him no time\r
+to reply, took the repetition for a denial, the more readily as he knew\r
+Prince Andrew's former atheistic convictions.\r
+\r
+"You say you can't see a reign of goodness and truth on earth. Nor could\r
+I, and it cannot be seen if one looks on our life here as the end of\r
+everything. On earth, here on this earth" (Pierre pointed to the\r
+fields), "there is no truth, all is false and evil; but in the universe,\r
+in the whole universe there is a kingdom of truth, and we who are now\r
+the children of earth are--eternally--children of the whole universe.\r
+Don't I feel in my soul that I am part of this vast harmonious whole?\r
+Don't I feel that I form one link, one step, between the lower and\r
+higher beings, in this vast harmonious multitude of beings in whom the\r
+Deity--the Supreme Power if you prefer the term--is manifest? If I see,\r
+clearly see, that ladder leading from plant to man, why should I suppose\r
+it breaks off at me and does not go farther and farther? I feel that I\r
+cannot vanish, since nothing vanishes in this world, but that I shall\r
+always exist and always have existed. I feel that beyond me and above me\r
+there are spirits, and that in this world there is truth."\r
+\r
+"Yes, that is Herder's theory," said Prince Andrew, "but it is not that\r
+which can convince me, dear friend--life and death are what convince.\r
+What convinces is when one sees a being dear to one, bound up with one's\r
+own life, before whom one was to blame and had hoped to make it right"\r
+(Prince Andrew's voice trembled and he turned away), "and suddenly that\r
+being is seized with pain, suffers, and ceases to exist.... Why? It\r
+cannot be that there is no answer. And I believe there is.... That's\r
+what convinces, that is what has convinced me," said Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes, of course," said Pierre, "isn't that what I'm saying?"\r
+\r
+"No. All I say is that it is not argument that convinces me of the\r
+necessity of a future life, but this: when you go hand in hand with\r
+someone and all at once that person vanishes there, into nowhere, and\r
+you yourself are left facing that abyss, and look in. And I have looked\r
+in...."\r
+\r
+"Well, that's it then! You know that there is a there and there is a\r
+Someone? There is the future life. The Someone is--God."\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew did not reply. The carriage and horses had long since been\r
+taken off, onto the farther bank, and reharnessed. The sun had sunk half\r
+below the horizon and an evening frost was starring the puddles near the\r
+ferry, but Pierre and Andrew, to the astonishment of the footmen,\r
+coachmen, and ferrymen, still stood on the raft and talked.\r
+\r
+"If there is a God and future life, there is truth and good, and man's\r
+highest happiness consists in striving to attain them. We must live, we\r
+must love, and we must believe that we live not only today on this scrap\r
+of earth, but have lived and shall live forever, there, in the Whole,"\r
+said Pierre, and he pointed to the sky.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew stood leaning on the railing of the raft listening to\r
+Pierre, and he gazed with his eyes fixed on the red reflection of the\r
+sun gleaming on the blue waters. There was perfect stillness. Pierre\r
+became silent. The raft had long since stopped and only the waves of the\r
+current beat softly against it below. Prince Andrew felt as if the sound\r
+of the waves kept up a refrain to Pierre's words, whispering:\r
+\r
+"It is true, believe it."\r
+\r
+He sighed, and glanced with a radiant, childlike, tender look at\r
+Pierre's face, flushed and rapturous, but yet shy before his superior\r
+friend.\r
+\r
+"Yes, if it only were so!" said Prince Andrew. "However, it is time to\r
+get on," he added, and, stepping off the raft, he looked up at the sky\r
+to which Pierre had pointed, and for the first time since Austerlitz saw\r
+that high, everlasting sky he had seen while lying on that battlefield;\r
+and something that had long been slumbering, something that was best\r
+within him, suddenly awoke, joyful and youthful, in his soul. It\r
+vanished as soon as he returned to the customary conditions of his life,\r
+but he knew that this feeling which he did not know how to develop\r
+existed within him. His meeting with Pierre formed an epoch in Prince\r
+Andrew's life. Though outwardly he continued to live in the same old\r
+way, inwardly he began a new life.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIII\r
+\r
+It was getting dusk when Prince Andrew and Pierre drove up to the front\r
+entrance of the house at Bald Hills. As they approached the house,\r
+Prince Andrew with a smile drew Pierre's attention to a commotion going\r
+on at the back porch. A woman, bent with age, with a wallet on her back,\r
+and a short, long-haired, young man in a black garment had rushed back\r
+to the gate on seeing the carriage driving up. Two women ran out after\r
+them, and all four, looking round at the carriage, ran in dismay up the\r
+steps of the back porch.\r
+\r
+"Those are Mary's 'God's folk,'" said Prince Andrew. "They have mistaken\r
+us for my father. This is the one matter in which she disobeys him. He\r
+orders these pilgrims to be driven away, but she receives them."\r
+\r
+"But what are 'God's folk'?" asked Pierre.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew had no time to answer. The servants came out to meet them,\r
+and he asked where the old prince was and whether he was expected back\r
+soon.\r
+\r
+The old prince had gone to the town and was expected back any minute.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew led Pierre to his own apartments, which were always kept\r
+in perfect order and readiness for him in his father's house; he himself\r
+went to the nursery.\r
+\r
+"Let us go and see my sister," he said to Pierre when he returned. "I\r
+have not found her yet, she is hiding now, sitting with her 'God's\r
+folk.' It will serve her right, she will be confused, but you will see\r
+her 'God's folk.' It's really very curious."\r
+\r
+"What are 'God's folk'?" asked Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Come, and you'll see for yourself."\r
+\r
+Princess Mary really was disconcerted and red patches came on her face\r
+when they went in. In her snug room, with lamps burning before the icon\r
+stand, a young lad with a long nose and long hair, wearing a monk's\r
+cassock, sat on the sofa beside her, behind a samovar. Near them, in an\r
+armchair, sat a thin, shriveled, old woman, with a meek expression on\r
+her childlike face.\r
+\r
+"Andrew, why didn't you warn me?" said the princess, with mild reproach,\r
+as she stood before her pilgrims like a hen before her chickens.\r
+\r
+"Charmee de vous voir. Je suis tres contente de vous voir," * she said\r
+to Pierre as he kissed her hand. She had known him as a child, and now\r
+his friendship with Andrew, his misfortune with his wife, and above all\r
+his kindly, simple face disposed her favorably toward him. She looked at\r
+him with her beautiful radiant eyes and seemed to say, "I like you very\r
+much, but please don't laugh at my people." After exchanging the first\r
+greetings, they sat down.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Delighted to see you. I am very glad to see you."\r
+\r
+"Ah, and Ivanushka is here too!" said Prince Andrew, glancing with a\r
+smile at the young pilgrim.\r
+\r
+"Andrew!" said Princess Mary, imploringly. "Il faut que vous sachiez que\r
+c'est une femme," * said Prince Andrew to Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Andrew, au nom de Dieu!" *(2) Princess Mary repeated.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "You must know that this is a woman."\r
+\r
+* (2) "For heaven's sake."\r
+\r
+It was evident that Prince Andrew's ironical tone toward the pilgrims\r
+and Princess Mary's helpless attempts to protect them were their\r
+customary long-established relations on the matter.\r
+\r
+"Mais, ma bonne amie," said Prince Andrew, "vous devriez au contraire\r
+m'être reconnaissante de ce que j'explique a Pierre votre intimité avec\r
+ce jeune homme." *\r
+\r
+\r
+* "But, my dear, you ought on the contrary to be grateful to me for\r
+explaining to Pierre your intimacy with this young man."\r
+\r
+"Really?" said Pierre, gazing over his spectacles with curiosity and\r
+seriousness (for which Princess Mary was specially grateful to him) into\r
+Ivanushka's face, who, seeing that she was being spoken about, looked\r
+round at them all with crafty eyes.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary's embarrassment on her people's account was quite\r
+unnecessary. They were not in the least abashed. The old woman, lowering\r
+her eyes but casting side glances at the newcomers, had turned her cup\r
+upside down and placed a nibbled bit of sugar beside it, and sat quietly\r
+in her armchair, though hoping to be offered another cup of tea.\r
+Ivanushka, sipping out of her saucer, looked with sly womanish eyes from\r
+under her brows at the young men.\r
+\r
+"Where have you been? To Kiev?" Prince Andrew asked the old woman.\r
+\r
+"I have, good sir," she answered garrulously. "Just at Christmastime I\r
+was deemed worthy to partake of the holy and heavenly sacrament at the\r
+shrine of the saint. And now I'm from Kolyazin, master, where a great\r
+and wonderful blessing has been revealed."\r
+\r
+"And was Ivanushka with you?"\r
+\r
+"I go by myself, benefactor," said Ivanushka, trying to speak in a bass\r
+voice. "I only came across Pelageya in Yukhnovo..."\r
+\r
+Pelageya interrupted her companion; she evidently wished to tell what\r
+she had seen.\r
+\r
+"In Kolyazin, master, a wonderful blessing has been revealed."\r
+\r
+"What is it? Some new relics?" asked Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+"Andrew, do leave off," said Princess Mary. "Don't tell him, Pelageya."\r
+\r
+"No... why not, my dear, why shouldn't I? I like him. He is kind, he is\r
+one of God's chosen, he's a benefactor, he once gave me ten rubles, I\r
+remember. When I was in Kiev, Crazy Cyril says to me (he's one of God's\r
+own and goes barefoot summer and winter), he says, 'Why are you not\r
+going to the right place? Go to Kolyazin where a wonder-working icon of\r
+the Holy Mother of God has been revealed.' On hearing those words I said\r
+good-by to the holy folk and went."\r
+\r
+All were silent, only the pilgrim woman went on in measured tones,\r
+drawing in her breath.\r
+\r
+"So I come, master, and the people say to me: 'A great blessing has been\r
+revealed, holy oil trickles from the cheeks of our blessed Mother, the\r
+Holy Virgin Mother of God'...."\r
+\r
+"All right, all right, you can tell us afterwards," said Princess Mary,\r
+flushing.\r
+\r
+"Let me ask her," said Pierre. "Did you see it yourselves?" he inquired.\r
+\r
+"Oh, yes, master, I was found worthy. Such a brightness on the face like\r
+the light of heaven, and from the blessed Mother's cheek it drops and\r
+drops...."\r
+\r
+"But, dear me, that must be a fraud!" said Pierre, naively, who had\r
+listened attentively to the pilgrim.\r
+\r
+"Oh, master, what are you saying?" exclaimed the horrified Pelageya,\r
+turning to Princess Mary for support.\r
+\r
+"They impose on the people," he repeated.\r
+\r
+"Lord Jesus Christ!" exclaimed the pilgrim woman, crossing herself. "Oh,\r
+don't speak so, master! There was a general who did not believe, and\r
+said, 'The monks cheat,' and as soon as he'd said it he went blind. And\r
+he dreamed that the Holy Virgin Mother of the Kiev catacombs came to him\r
+and said, 'Believe in me and I will make you whole.' So he begged: 'Take\r
+me to her, take me to her.' It's the real truth I'm telling you, I saw\r
+it myself. So he was brought, quite blind, straight to her, and he goes\r
+up to her and falls down and says, 'Make me whole,' says he, 'and I'll\r
+give thee what the Tsar bestowed on me.' I saw it myself, master, the\r
+star is fixed into the icon. Well, and what do you think? He received\r
+his sight! It's a sin to speak so. God will punish you," she said\r
+admonishingly, turning to Pierre.\r
+\r
+"How did the star get into the icon?" Pierre asked.\r
+\r
+"And was the Holy Mother promoted to the rank of general?" said Prince\r
+Andrew, with a smile.\r
+\r
+Pelageya suddenly grew quite pale and clasped her hands.\r
+\r
+"Oh, master, master, what a sin! And you who have a son!" she began, her\r
+pallor suddenly turning to a vivid red. "Master, what have you said? God\r
+forgive you!" And she crossed herself. "Lord forgive him! My dear, what\r
+does it mean?..." she asked, turning to Princess Mary. She got up and,\r
+almost crying, began to arrange her wallet. She evidently felt\r
+frightened and ashamed to have accepted charity in a house where such\r
+things could be said, and was at the same time sorry to have now to\r
+forgo the charity of this house.\r
+\r
+"Now, why need you do it?" said Princess Mary. "Why did you come to\r
+me?..."\r
+\r
+"Come, Pelageya, I was joking," said Pierre. "Princesse, ma parole, je\r
+n'ai pas voulu l'offenser. * I did not mean anything, I was only\r
+joking," he said, smiling shyly and trying to efface his offense. "It\r
+was all my fault, and Andrew was only joking."\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Princess, on my word, I did not wish to offend her."\r
+\r
+Pelageya stopped doubtfully, but in Pierre's face there was such a look\r
+of sincere penitence, and Prince Andrew glanced so meekly now at her and\r
+now at Pierre, that she was gradually reassured.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIV\r
+\r
+The pilgrim woman was appeased and, being encouraged to talk, gave a\r
+long account of Father Amphilochus, who led so holy a life that his\r
+hands smelled of incense, and how on her last visit to Kiev some monks\r
+she knew let her have the keys of the catacombs, and how she, taking\r
+some dried bread with her, had spent two days in the catacombs with the\r
+saints. "I'd pray awhile to one, ponder awhile, then go on to another.\r
+I'd sleep a bit and then again go and kiss the relics, and there was\r
+such peace all around, such blessedness, that one don't want to come\r
+out, even into the light of heaven again."\r
+\r
+Pierre listened to her attentively and seriously. Prince Andrew went out\r
+of the room, and then, leaving "God's folk" to finish their tea,\r
+Princess Mary took Pierre into the drawing room.\r
+\r
+"You are very kind," she said to him.\r
+\r
+"Oh, I really did not mean to hurt her feelings. I understand them so\r
+well and have the greatest respect for them."\r
+\r
+Princess Mary looked at him silently and smiled affectionately.\r
+\r
+"I have known you a long time, you see, and am as fond of you as of a\r
+brother," she said. "How do you find Andrew?" she added hurriedly, not\r
+giving him time to reply to her affectionate words. "I am very anxious\r
+about him. His health was better in the winter, but last spring his\r
+wound reopened and the doctor said he ought to go away for a cure. And I\r
+am also very much afraid for him spiritually. He has not a character\r
+like us women who, when we suffer, can weep away our sorrows. He keeps\r
+it all within him. Today he is cheerful and in good spirits, but that is\r
+the effect of your visit--he is not often like that. If you could\r
+persuade him to go abroad. He needs activity, and this quiet regular\r
+life is very bad for him. Others don't notice it, but I see it."\r
+\r
+Toward ten o'clock the men servants rushed to the front door, hearing\r
+the bells of the old prince's carriage approaching. Prince Andrew and\r
+Pierre also went out into the porch.\r
+\r
+"Who's that?" asked the old prince, noticing Pierre as he got out of the\r
+carriage.\r
+\r
+"Ah! Very glad! Kiss me," he said, having learned who the young stranger\r
+was.\r
+\r
+The old prince was in a good temper and very gracious to Pierre.\r
+\r
+Before supper, Prince Andrew, coming back to his father's study, found\r
+him disputing hotly with his visitor. Pierre was maintaining that a time\r
+would come when there would be no more wars. The old prince disputed it\r
+chaffingly, but without getting angry.\r
+\r
+"Drain the blood from men's veins and put in water instead, then there\r
+will be no more war! Old women's nonsense--old women's nonsense!" he\r
+repeated, but still he patted Pierre affectionately on the shoulder, and\r
+then went up to the table where Prince Andrew, evidently not wishing to\r
+join in the conversation, was looking over the papers his father had\r
+brought from town. The old prince went up to him and began to talk\r
+business.\r
+\r
+"The marshal, a Count Rostov, hasn't sent half his contingent. He came\r
+to town and wanted to invite me to dinner--I gave him a pretty\r
+dinner!... And there, look at this.... Well, my boy," the old prince\r
+went on, addressing his son and patting Pierre on the shoulder. "A fine\r
+fellow--your friend--I like him! He stirs me up. Another says clever\r
+things and one doesn't care to listen, but this one talks rubbish yet\r
+stirs an old fellow up. Well, go! Get along! Perhaps I'll come and sit\r
+with you at supper. We'll have another dispute. Make friends with my\r
+little fool, Princess Mary," he shouted after Pierre, through the door.\r
+\r
+Only now, on his visit to Bald Hills, did Pierre fully realize the\r
+strength and charm of his friendship with Prince Andrew. That charm was\r
+not expressed so much in his relations with him as with all his family\r
+and with the household. With the stern old prince and the gentle, timid\r
+Princess Mary, though he had scarcely known them, Pierre at once felt\r
+like an old friend. They were all fond of him already. Not only Princess\r
+Mary, who had been won by his gentleness with the pilgrims, gave him her\r
+most radiant looks, but even the one-year-old "Prince Nicholas" (as his\r
+grandfather called him) smiled at Pierre and let himself be taken in his\r
+arms, and Michael Ivanovich and Mademoiselle Bourienne looked at him\r
+with pleasant smiles when he talked to the old prince.\r
+\r
+The old prince came in to supper; this was evidently on Pierre's\r
+account. And during the two days of the young man's visit he was\r
+extremely kind to him and told him to visit them again.\r
+\r
+When Pierre had gone and the members of the household met together, they\r
+began to express their opinions of him as people always do after a new\r
+acquaintance has left, but as seldom happens, no one said anything but\r
+what was good of him.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XV\r
+\r
+When returning from his leave, Rostov felt, for the first time, how\r
+close was the bond that united him to Denisov and the whole regiment.\r
+\r
+On approaching it, Rostov felt as he had done when approaching his home\r
+in Moscow. When he saw the first hussar with the unbuttoned uniform of\r
+his regiment, when he recognized red-haired Dementyev and saw the picket\r
+ropes of the roan horses, when Lavrushka gleefully shouted to his\r
+master, "The count has come!" and Denisov, who had been asleep on his\r
+bed, ran all disheveled out of the mud hut to embrace him, and the\r
+officers collected round to greet the new arrival, Rostov experienced\r
+the same feeling as when his mother, his father, and his sister had\r
+embraced him, and tears of joy choked him so that he could not speak.\r
+The regiment was also a home, and as unalterably dear and precious as\r
+his parents' house.\r
+\r
+When he had reported himself to the commander of the regiment and had\r
+been reassigned to his former squadron, had been on duty and had gone\r
+out foraging, when he had again entered into all the little interests of\r
+the regiment and felt himself deprived of liberty and bound in one\r
+narrow, unchanging frame, he experienced the same sense of peace, of\r
+moral support, and the same sense of being at home here in his own\r
+place, as he had felt under the parental roof. But here was none of all\r
+that turmoil of the world at large, where he did not know his right\r
+place and took mistaken decisions; here was no Sonya with whom he ought,\r
+or ought not, to have an explanation; here was no possibility of going\r
+there or not going there; here there were not twenty-four hours in the\r
+day which could be spent in such a variety of ways; there was not that\r
+innumerable crowd of people of whom not one was nearer to him or farther\r
+from him than another; there were none of those uncertain and undefined\r
+money relations with his father, and nothing to recall that terrible\r
+loss to Dolokhov. Here, in the regiment, all was clear and simple. The\r
+whole world was divided into two unequal parts: one, our Pavlograd\r
+regiment; the other, all the rest. And the rest was no concern of his.\r
+In the regiment, everything was definite: who was lieutenant, who\r
+captain, who was a good fellow, who a bad one, and most of all, who was\r
+a comrade. The canteenkeeper gave one credit, one's pay came every four\r
+months, there was nothing to think out or decide, you had only to do\r
+nothing that was considered bad in the Pavlograd regiment and, when\r
+given an order, to do what was clearly, distinctly, and definitely\r
+ordered--and all would be well.\r
+\r
+Having once more entered into the definite conditions of this regimental\r
+life, Rostov felt the joy and relief a tired man feels on lying down to\r
+rest. Life in the regiment, during this campaign, was all the pleasanter\r
+for him, because, after his loss to Dolokhov (for which, in spite of all\r
+his family's efforts to console him, he could not forgive himself), he\r
+had made up his mind to atone for his fault by serving, not as he had\r
+done before, but really well, and by being a perfectly first-rate\r
+comrade and officer--in a word, a splendid man altogether, a thing which\r
+seemed so difficult out in the world, but so possible in the regiment.\r
+\r
+After his losses, he had determined to pay back his debt to his parents\r
+in five years. He received ten thousand rubles a year, but now resolved\r
+to take only two thousand and leave the rest to repay the debt to his\r
+parents.\r
+\r
+Our army, after repeated retreats and advances and battles at Pultusk\r
+and Preussisch-Eylau, was concentrated near Bartenstein. It was awaiting\r
+the Emperor's arrival and the beginning of a new campaign.\r
+\r
+The Pavlograd regiment, belonging to that part of the army which had\r
+served in the 1805 campaign, had been recruiting up to strength in\r
+Russia, and arrived too late to take part in the first actions of the\r
+campaign. It had been neither at Pultusk nor at Preussisch-Eylau and,\r
+when it joined the army in the field in the second half of the campaign,\r
+was attached to Platov's division.\r
+\r
+Platov's division was acting independently of the main army. Several\r
+times parts of the Pavlograd regiment had exchanged shots with the\r
+enemy, had taken prisoners, and once had even captured Marshal Oudinot's\r
+carriages. In April the Pavlograds were stationed immovably for some\r
+weeks near a totally ruined and deserted German village.\r
+\r
+A thaw had set in, it was muddy and cold, the ice on the river broke,\r
+and the roads became impassable. For days neither provisions for the men\r
+nor fodder for the horses had been issued. As no transports could\r
+arrive, the men dispersed about the abandoned and deserted villages,\r
+searching for potatoes, but found few even of these.\r
+\r
+Everything had been eaten up and the inhabitants had all fled--if any\r
+remained, they were worse than beggars and nothing more could be taken\r
+from them; even the soldiers, usually pitiless enough, instead of taking\r
+anything from them, often gave them the last of their rations.\r
+\r
+The Pavlograd regiment had had only two men wounded in action, but had\r
+lost nearly half its men from hunger and sickness. In the hospitals,\r
+death was so certain that soldiers suffering from fever, or the swelling\r
+that came from bad food, preferred to remain on duty, and hardly able to\r
+drag their legs went to the front rather than to the hospitals. When\r
+spring came on, the soldiers found a plant just showing out of the\r
+ground that looked like asparagus, which, for some reason, they called\r
+"Mashka's sweet root." It was very bitter, but they wandered about the\r
+fields seeking it and dug it out with their sabers and ate it, though\r
+they were ordered not to do so, as it was a noxious plant. That spring a\r
+new disease broke out among the soldiers, a swelling of the arms, legs,\r
+and face, which the doctors attributed to eating this root. But in spite\r
+of all this, the soldiers of Denisov's squadron fed chiefly on "Mashka's\r
+sweet root," because it was the second week that the last of the\r
+biscuits were being doled out at the rate of half a pound a man and the\r
+last potatoes received had sprouted and frozen.\r
+\r
+The horses also had been fed for a fortnight on straw from the thatched\r
+roofs and had become terribly thin, though still covered with tufts of\r
+felty winter hair.\r
+\r
+Despite this destitution, the soldiers and officers went on living just\r
+as usual. Despite their pale swollen faces and tattered uniforms, the\r
+hussars formed line for roll call, kept things in order, groomed their\r
+horses, polished their arms, brought in straw from the thatched roofs in\r
+place of fodder, and sat down to dine round the caldrons from which they\r
+rose up hungry, joking about their nasty food and their hunger. As\r
+usual, in their spare time, they lit bonfires, steamed themselves before\r
+them naked; smoked, picked out and baked sprouting rotten potatoes, told\r
+and listened to stories of Potemkin's and Suvorov's campaigns, or to\r
+legends of Alesha the Sly, or the priest's laborer Mikolka.\r
+\r
+The officers, as usual, lived in twos and threes in the roofless, half-\r
+ruined houses. The seniors tried to collect straw and potatoes and, in\r
+general, food for the men. The younger ones occupied themselves as\r
+before, some playing cards (there was plenty of money, though there was\r
+no food), some with more innocent games, such as quoits and skittles.\r
+The general trend of the campaign was rarely spoken of, partly because\r
+nothing certain was known about it, partly because there was a vague\r
+feeling that in the main it was going badly.\r
+\r
+Rostov lived, as before, with Denisov, and since their furlough they had\r
+become more friendly than ever. Denisov never spoke of Rostov's family,\r
+but by the tender friendship his commander showed him, Rostov felt that\r
+the elder hussar's luckless love for Natasha played a part in\r
+strengthening their friendship. Denisov evidently tried to expose Rostov\r
+to danger as seldom as possible, and after an action greeted his safe\r
+return with evident joy. On one of his foraging expeditions, in a\r
+deserted and ruined village to which he had come in search of\r
+provisions, Rostov found a family consisting of an old Pole and his\r
+daughter with an infant in arms. They were half clad, hungry, too weak\r
+to get away on foot and had no means of obtaining a conveyance. Rostov\r
+brought them to his quarters, placed them in his own lodging, and kept\r
+them for some weeks while the old man was recovering. One of his\r
+comrades, talking of women, began chaffing Rostov, saying that he was\r
+more wily than any of them and that it would not be a bad thing if he\r
+introduced to them the pretty Polish girl he had saved. Rostov took the\r
+joke as an insult, flared up, and said such unpleasant things to the\r
+officer that it was all Denisov could do to prevent a duel. When the\r
+officer had gone away, Denisov, who did not himself know what Rostov's\r
+relations with the Polish girl might be, began to upbraid him for his\r
+quickness of temper, and Rostov replied:\r
+\r
+"Say what you like.... She is like a sister to me, and I can't tell you\r
+how it offended me... because... well, for that reason...."\r
+\r
+Denisov patted him on the shoulder and began rapidly pacing the room\r
+without looking at Rostov, as was his way at moments of deep feeling.\r
+\r
+"Ah, what a mad bweed you Wostovs are!" he muttered, and Rostov noticed\r
+tears in his eyes.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVI\r
+\r
+In April the troops were enlivened by news of the Emperor's arrival, but\r
+Rostov had no chance of being present at the review he held at\r
+Bartenstein, as the Pavlograds were at the outposts far beyond that\r
+place.\r
+\r
+They were bivouacking. Denisov and Rostov were living in an earth hut,\r
+dug out for them by the soldiers and roofed with branches and turf. The\r
+hut was made in the following manner, which had then come into vogue. A\r
+trench was dug three and a half feet wide, four feet eight inches deep,\r
+and eight feet long. At one end of the trench, steps were cut out and\r
+these formed the entrance and vestibule. The trench itself was the room,\r
+in which the lucky ones, such as the squadron commander, had a board,\r
+lying on piles at the end opposite the entrance, to serve as a table. On\r
+each side of the trench, the earth was cut out to a breadth of about two\r
+and a half feet, and this did duty for bedsteads and couches. The roof\r
+was so constructed that one could stand up in the middle of the trench\r
+and could even sit up on the beds if one drew close to the table.\r
+Denisov, who was living luxuriously because the soldiers of his squadron\r
+liked him, had also a board in the roof at the farther end, with a piece\r
+of (broken but mended) glass in it for a window. When it was very cold,\r
+embers from the soldiers' campfire were placed on a bent sheet of iron\r
+on the steps in the "reception room"--as Denisov called that part of the\r
+hut--and it was then so warm that the officers, of whom there were\r
+always some with Denisov and Rostov, sat in their shirt sleeves.\r
+\r
+In April, Rostov was on orderly duty. One morning, between seven and\r
+eight, returning after a sleepless night, he sent for embers, changed\r
+his rain-soaked underclothes, said his prayers, drank tea, got warm,\r
+then tidied up the things on the table and in his own corner, and, his\r
+face glowing from exposure to the wind and with nothing on but his\r
+shirt, lay down on his back, putting his arms under his head. He was\r
+pleasantly considering the probability of being promoted in a few days\r
+for his last reconnoitering expedition, and was awaiting Denisov, who\r
+had gone out somewhere and with whom he wanted a talk.\r
+\r
+Suddenly he heard Denisov shouting in a vibrating voice behind the hut,\r
+evidently much excited. Rostov moved to the window to see whom he was\r
+speaking to, and saw the quartermaster, Topcheenko.\r
+\r
+"I ordered you not to let them eat that Mashka woot stuff!" Denisov was\r
+shouting. "And I saw with my own eyes how Lazarchuk bwought some fwom\r
+the fields."\r
+\r
+"I have given the order again and again, your honor, but they don't\r
+obey," answered the quartermaster.\r
+\r
+Rostov lay down again on his bed and thought complacently: "Let him fuss\r
+and bustle now, my job's done and I'm lying down--capitally!" He could\r
+hear that Lavrushka--that sly, bold orderly of Denisov's--was talking,\r
+as well as the quartermaster. Lavrushka was saying something about\r
+loaded wagons, biscuits, and oxen he had seen when he had gone out for\r
+provisions.\r
+\r
+Then Denisov's voice was heard shouting farther and farther away.\r
+"Saddle! Second platoon!"\r
+\r
+"Where are they off to now?" thought Rostov.\r
+\r
+Five minutes later, Denisov came into the hut, climbed with muddy boots\r
+on the bed, lit his pipe, furiously scattered his things about, took his\r
+leaded whip, buckled on his saber, and went out again. In answer to\r
+Rostov's inquiry where he was going, he answered vaguely and crossly\r
+that he had some business.\r
+\r
+"Let God and our gweat monarch judge me afterwards!" said Denisov going\r
+out, and Rostov heard the hoofs of several horses splashing through the\r
+mud. He did not even trouble to find out where Denisov had gone. Having\r
+got warm in his corner, he fell asleep and did not leave the hut till\r
+toward evening. Denisov had not yet returned. The weather had cleared\r
+up, and near the next hut two officers and a cadet were playing svayka,\r
+laughing as they threw their missiles which buried themselves in the\r
+soft mud. Rostov joined them. In the middle of the game, the officers\r
+saw some wagons approaching with fifteen hussars on their skinny horses\r
+behind them. The wagons escorted by the hussars drew up to the picket\r
+ropes and a crowd of hussars surrounded them.\r
+\r
+"There now, Denisov has been worrying," said Rostov, "and here are the\r
+provisions."\r
+\r
+"So they are!" said the officers. "Won't the soldiers be glad!"\r
+\r
+A little behind the hussars came Denisov, accompanied by two infantry\r
+officers with whom he was talking.\r
+\r
+Rostov went to meet them.\r
+\r
+"I warn you, Captain," one of the officers, a short thin man, evidently\r
+very angry, was saying.\r
+\r
+"Haven't I told you I won't give them up?" replied Denisov.\r
+\r
+"You will answer for it, Captain. It is mutiny--seizing the transport of\r
+one's own army. Our men have had nothing to eat for two days."\r
+\r
+"And mine have had nothing for two weeks," said Denisov.\r
+\r
+"It is robbery! You'll answer for it, sir!" said the infantry officer,\r
+raising his voice.\r
+\r
+"Now, what are you pestewing me for?" cried Denisov, suddenly losing his\r
+temper. "I shall answer for it and not you, and you'd better not buzz\r
+about here till you get hurt. Be off! Go!" he shouted at the officers.\r
+\r
+"Very well, then!" shouted the little officer, undaunted and not riding\r
+away. "If you are determined to rob, I'll..."\r
+\r
+"Go to the devil! quick ma'ch, while you're safe and sound!" and Denisov\r
+turned his horse on the officer.\r
+\r
+"Very well, very well!" muttered the officer, threateningly, and turning\r
+his horse he trotted away, jolting in his saddle.\r
+\r
+"A dog astwide a fence! A weal dog astwide a fence!" shouted Denisov\r
+after him (the most insulting expression a cavalryman can address to a\r
+mounted infantryman) and riding up to Rostov, he burst out laughing.\r
+\r
+"I've taken twansports from the infantwy by force!" he said. "After all,\r
+can't let our men starve."\r
+\r
+The wagons that had reached the hussars had been consigned to an\r
+infantry regiment, but learning from Lavrushka that the transport was\r
+unescorted, Denisov with his hussars had seized it by force. The\r
+soldiers had biscuits dealt out to them freely, and they even shared\r
+them with the other squadrons.\r
+\r
+The next day the regimental commander sent for Denisov, and holding his\r
+fingers spread out before his eyes said:\r
+\r
+"This is how I look at this affair: I know nothing about it and won't\r
+begin proceedings, but I advise you to ride over to the staff and settle\r
+the business there in the commissariat department and if possible sign a\r
+receipt for such and such stores received. If not, as the demand was\r
+booked against an infantry regiment, there will be a row and the affair\r
+may end badly."\r
+\r
+From the regimental commander's, Denisov rode straight to the staff with\r
+a sincere desire to act on this advice. In the evening he came back to\r
+his dugout in a state such as Rostov had never yet seen him in. Denisov\r
+could not speak and gasped for breath. When Rostov asked what was the\r
+matter, he only uttered some incoherent oaths and threats in a hoarse,\r
+feeble voice.\r
+\r
+Alarmed at Denisov's condition, Rostov suggested that he should undress,\r
+drink some water, and send for the doctor.\r
+\r
+"Twy me for wobbewy... oh! Some more water... Let them twy me, but I'll\r
+always thwash scoundwels... and I'll tell the Empewo'... Ice..." he\r
+muttered.\r
+\r
+The regimental doctor, when he came, said it was absolutely necessary to\r
+bleed Denisov. A deep saucer of black blood was taken from his hairy arm\r
+and only then was he able to relate what had happened to him.\r
+\r
+"I get there," began Denisov. "'Now then, where's your chief's\r
+quarters?' They were pointed out. 'Please to wait.' 'I've widden twenty\r
+miles and have duties to attend to and no time to wait. Announce me.'\r
+Vewy well, so out comes their head chief--also took it into his head to\r
+lecture me: 'It's wobbewy!'--'Wobbewy,' I say, 'is not done by man who\r
+seizes pwovisions to feed his soldiers, but by him who takes them to\r
+fill his own pockets!' 'Will you please be silent?' 'Vewy good!' Then he\r
+says: 'Go and give a weceipt to the commissioner, but your affair will\r
+be passed on to headquarters.' I go to the commissioner. I enter, and at\r
+the table... who do you think? No, but wait a bit!... Who is it that's\r
+starving us?" shouted Denisov, hitting the table with the fist of his\r
+newly bled arm so violently that the table nearly broke down and the\r
+tumblers on it jumped about. "Telyanin! 'What? So it's you who's\r
+starving us to death! Is it? Take this and this!' and I hit him so pat,\r
+stwaight on his snout... 'Ah, what a... what a...!' and I sta'ted\r
+fwashing him... Well, I've had a bit of fun I can tell you!" cried\r
+Denisov, gleeful and yet angry, his white teeth showing under his black\r
+mustache. "I'd have killed him if they hadn't taken him away!"\r
+\r
+"But what are you shouting for? Calm yourself," said Rostov. "You've set\r
+your arm bleeding afresh. Wait, we must tie it up again."\r
+\r
+Denisov was bandaged up again and put to bed. Next day he woke calm and\r
+cheerful.\r
+\r
+But at noon the adjutant of the regiment came into Rostov's and\r
+Denisov's dugout with a grave and serious face and regretfully showed\r
+them a paper addressed to Major Denisov from the regimental commander in\r
+which inquiries were made about yesterday's occurrence. The adjutant\r
+told them that the affair was likely to take a very bad turn: that a\r
+court-martial had been appointed, and that in view of the severity with\r
+which marauding and insubordination were now regarded, degradation to\r
+the ranks would be the best that could be hoped for.\r
+\r
+The case, as represented by the offended parties, was that, after\r
+seizing the transports, Major Denisov, being drunk, went to the chief\r
+quartermaster and without any provocation called him a thief, threatened\r
+to strike him, and on being led out had rushed into the office and given\r
+two officials a thrashing, and dislocated the arm of one of them.\r
+\r
+In answer to Rostov's renewed questions, Denisov said, laughing, that he\r
+thought he remembered that some other fellow had got mixed up in it, but\r
+that it was all nonsense and rubbish, and he did not in the least fear\r
+any kind of trial, and that if those scoundrels dared attack him he\r
+would give them an answer that they would not easily forget.\r
+\r
+Denisov spoke contemptuously of the whole matter, but Rostov knew him\r
+too well not to detect that (while hiding it from others) at heart he\r
+feared a court-martial and was worried over the affair, which was\r
+evidently taking a bad turn. Every day, letters of inquiry and notices\r
+from the court arrived, and on the first of May, Denisov was ordered to\r
+hand the squadron over to the next in seniority and appear before the\r
+staff of his division to explain his violence at the commissariat\r
+office. On the previous day Platov reconnoitered with two Cossack\r
+regiments and two squadrons of hussars. Denisov, as was his wont, rode\r
+out in front of the outposts, parading his courage. A bullet fired by a\r
+French sharpshooter hit him in the fleshy part of his leg. Perhaps at\r
+another time Denisov would not have left the regiment for so slight a\r
+wound, but now he took advantage of it to excuse himself from appearing\r
+at the staff and went into hospital.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVII\r
+\r
+In June the battle of Friedland was fought, in which the Pavlograds did\r
+not take part, and after that an armistice was proclaimed. Rostov, who\r
+felt his friend's absence very much, having no news of him since he left\r
+and feeling very anxious about his wound and the progress of his\r
+affairs, took advantage of the armistice to get leave to visit Denisov\r
+in hospital.\r
+\r
+The hospital was in a small Prussian town that had been twice devastated\r
+by Russian and French troops. Because it was summer, when it is so\r
+beautiful out in the fields, the little town presented a particularly\r
+dismal appearance with its broken roofs and fences, its foul streets,\r
+tattered inhabitants, and the sick and drunken soldiers wandering about.\r
+\r
+The hospital was in a brick building with some of the window frames and\r
+panes broken and a courtyard surrounded by the remains of a wooden fence\r
+that had been pulled to pieces. Several bandaged soldiers, with pale\r
+swollen faces, were sitting or walking about in the sunshine in the\r
+yard.\r
+\r
+Directly Rostov entered the door he was enveloped by a smell of\r
+putrefaction and hospital air. On the stairs he met a Russian army\r
+doctor smoking a cigar. The doctor was followed by a Russian assistant.\r
+\r
+"I can't tear myself to pieces," the doctor was saying. "Come to Makar\r
+Alexeevich in the evening. I shall be there."\r
+\r
+The assistant asked some further questions.\r
+\r
+"Oh, do the best you can! Isn't it all the same?" The doctor noticed\r
+Rostov coming upstairs.\r
+\r
+"What do you want, sir?" said the doctor. "What do you want? The bullets\r
+having spared you, do you want to try typhus? This is a pesthouse, sir."\r
+\r
+"How so?" asked Rostov.\r
+\r
+"Typhus, sir. It's death to go in. Only we two, Makeev and I" (he\r
+pointed to the assistant), "keep on here. Some five of us doctors have\r
+died in this place.... When a new one comes he is done for in a week,"\r
+said the doctor with evident satisfaction. "Prussian doctors have been\r
+invited here, but our allies don't like it at all."\r
+\r
+Rostov explained that he wanted to see Major Denisov of the hussars, who\r
+was wounded.\r
+\r
+"I don't know. I can't tell you, sir. Only think! I am alone in charge\r
+of three hospitals with more than four hundred patients! It's well that\r
+the charitable Prussian ladies send us two pounds of coffee and some\r
+lint each month or we should be lost!" he laughed. "Four hundred, sir,\r
+and they're always sending me fresh ones. There are four hundred? Eh?"\r
+he asked, turning to the assistant.\r
+\r
+The assistant looked fagged out. He was evidently vexed and impatient\r
+for the talkative doctor to go.\r
+\r
+"Major Denisov," Rostov said again. "He was wounded at Molliten."\r
+\r
+"Dead, I fancy. Eh, Makeev?" queried the doctor, in a tone of\r
+indifference.\r
+\r
+The assistant, however, did not confirm the doctor's words.\r
+\r
+"Is he tall and with reddish hair?" asked the doctor.\r
+\r
+Rostov described Denisov's appearance.\r
+\r
+"There was one like that," said the doctor, as if pleased. "That one is\r
+dead, I fancy. However, I'll look up our list. We had a list. Have you\r
+got it, Makeev?"\r
+\r
+"Makar Alexeevich has the list," answered the assistant. "But if you'll\r
+step into the officers' wards you'll see for yourself," he added,\r
+turning to Rostov.\r
+\r
+"Ah, you'd better not go, sir," said the doctor, "or you may have to\r
+stay here yourself."\r
+\r
+But Rostov bowed himself away from the doctor and asked the assistant to\r
+show him the way.\r
+\r
+"Only don't blame me!" the doctor shouted up after him.\r
+\r
+Rostov and the assistant went into the dark corridor. The smell was so\r
+strong there that Rostov held his nose and had to pause and collect his\r
+strength before he could go on. A door opened to the right, and an\r
+emaciated sallow man on crutches, barefoot and in underclothing, limped\r
+out and, leaning against the doorpost, looked with glittering envious\r
+eyes at those who were passing. Glancing in at the door, Rostov saw that\r
+the sick and wounded were lying on the floor on straw and overcoats.\r
+\r
+"May I go in and look?"\r
+\r
+"What is there to see?" said the assistant.\r
+\r
+But, just because the assistant evidently did not want him to go in,\r
+Rostov entered the soldiers' ward. The foul air, to which he had already\r
+begun to get used in the corridor, was still stronger here. It was a\r
+little different, more pungent, and one felt that this was where it\r
+originated.\r
+\r
+In the long room, brightly lit up by the sun through the large windows,\r
+the sick and wounded lay in two rows with their heads to the walls, and\r
+leaving a passage in the middle. Most of them were unconscious and paid\r
+no attention to the newcomers. Those who were conscious raised\r
+themselves or lifted their thin yellow faces, and all looked intently at\r
+Rostov with the same expression of hope, of relief, reproach, and envy\r
+of another's health. Rostov went to the middle of the room and looking\r
+through the open doors into the two adjoining rooms saw the same thing\r
+there. He stood still, looking silently around. He had not at all\r
+expected such a sight. Just before him, almost across the middle of the\r
+passage on the bare floor, lay a sick man, probably a Cossack to judge\r
+by the cut of his hair. The man lay on his back, his huge arms and legs\r
+outstretched. His face was purple, his eyes were rolled back so that\r
+only the whites were seen, and on his bare legs and arms which were\r
+still red, the veins stood out like cords. He was knocking the back of\r
+his head against the floor, hoarsely uttering some word which he kept\r
+repeating. Rostov listened and made out the word. It was "drink, drink,\r
+a drink!" Rostov glanced round, looking for someone who would put this\r
+man back in his place and bring him water.\r
+\r
+"Who looks after the sick here?" he asked the assistant.\r
+\r
+Just then a commissariat soldier, a hospital orderly, came in from the\r
+next room, marching stiffly, and drew up in front of Rostov.\r
+\r
+"Good day, your honor!" he shouted, rolling his eyes at Rostov and\r
+evidently mistaking him for one of the hospital authorities.\r
+\r
+"Get him to his place and give him some water," said Rostov, pointing to\r
+the Cossack.\r
+\r
+"Yes, your honor," the soldier replied complacently, and rolling his\r
+eyes more than ever he drew himself up still straighter, but did not\r
+move.\r
+\r
+"No, it's impossible to do anything here," thought Rostov, lowering his\r
+eyes, and he was going out, but became aware of an intense look fixed on\r
+him on his right, and he turned. Close to the corner, on an overcoat,\r
+sat an old, unshaven, gray-bearded soldier as thin as a skeleton, with a\r
+stern sallow face and eyes intently fixed on Rostov. The man's neighbor\r
+on one side whispered something to him, pointing at Rostov, who noticed\r
+that the old man wanted to speak to him. He drew nearer and saw that the\r
+old man had only one leg bent under him, the other had been amputated\r
+above the knee. His neighbor on the other side, who lay motionless some\r
+distance from him with his head thrown back, was a young soldier with a\r
+snub nose. His pale waxen face was still freckled and his eyes were\r
+rolled back. Rostov looked at the young soldier and a cold chill ran\r
+down his back.\r
+\r
+"Why, this one seems..." he began, turning to the assistant.\r
+\r
+"And how we've been begging, your honor," said the old soldier, his jaw\r
+quivering. "He's been dead since morning. After all we're men, not\r
+dogs."\r
+\r
+"I'll send someone at once. He shall be taken away--taken away at once,"\r
+said the assistant hurriedly. "Let us go, your honor."\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes, let us go," said Rostov hastily, and lowering his eyes and\r
+shrinking, he tried to pass unnoticed between the rows of reproachful\r
+envious eyes that were fixed upon him, and went out of the room.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVIII\r
+\r
+Going along the corridor, the assistant led Rostov to the officers'\r
+wards, consisting of three rooms, the doors of which stood open. There\r
+were beds in these rooms and the sick and wounded officers were lying or\r
+sitting on them. Some were walking about the rooms in hospital dressing\r
+gowns. The first person Rostov met in the officers' ward was a thin\r
+little man with one arm, who was walking about the first room in a\r
+nightcap and hospital dressing gown, with a pipe between his teeth.\r
+Rostov looked at him, trying to remember where he had seen him before.\r
+\r
+"See where we've met again!" said the little man. "Tushin, Tushin, don't\r
+you remember, who gave you a lift at Schon Grabern? And I've had a bit\r
+cut off, you see..." he went on with a smile, pointing to the empty\r
+sleeve of his dressing gown. "Looking for Vasili Dmitrich Denisov? My\r
+neighbor," he added, when he heard who Rostov wanted. "Here, here," and\r
+Tushin led him into the next room, from whence came sounds of several\r
+laughing voices.\r
+\r
+"How can they laugh, or even live at all here?" thought Rostov, still\r
+aware of that smell of decomposing flesh that had been so strong in the\r
+soldiers' ward, and still seeming to see fixed on him those envious\r
+looks which had followed him out from both sides, and the face of that\r
+young soldier with eyes rolled back.\r
+\r
+Denisov lay asleep on his bed with his head under the blanket, though it\r
+was nearly noon.\r
+\r
+"Ah, Wostov? How are you, how are you?" he called out, still in the same\r
+voice as in the regiment, but Rostov noticed sadly that under this\r
+habitual ease and animation some new, sinister, hidden feeling showed\r
+itself in the expression of Denisov's face and the intonations of his\r
+voice.\r
+\r
+His wound, though a slight one, had not yet healed even now, six weeks\r
+after he had been hit. His face had the same swollen pallor as the faces\r
+of the other hospital patients, but it was not this that struck Rostov.\r
+What struck him was that Denisov did not seem glad to see him, and\r
+smiled at him unnaturally. He did not ask about the regiment, nor about\r
+the general state of affairs, and when Rostov spoke of these matters did\r
+not listen.\r
+\r
+Rostov even noticed that Denisov did not like to be reminded of the\r
+regiment, or in general of that other free life which was going on\r
+outside the hospital. He seemed to try to forget that old life and was\r
+only interested in the affair with the commissariat officers. On\r
+Rostov's inquiry as to how the matter stood, he at once produced from\r
+under his pillow a paper he had received from the commission and the\r
+rough draft of his answer to it. He became animated when he began\r
+reading his paper and specially drew Rostov's attention to the stinging\r
+rejoinders he made to his enemies. His hospital companions, who had\r
+gathered round Rostov--a fresh arrival from the world outside--gradually\r
+began to disperse as soon as Denisov began reading his answer. Rostov\r
+noticed by their faces that all those gentlemen had already heard that\r
+story more than once and were tired of it. Only the man who had the next\r
+bed, a stout Uhlan, continued to sit on his bed, gloomily frowning and\r
+smoking a pipe, and little one-armed Tushin still listened, shaking his\r
+head disapprovingly. In the middle of the reading, the Uhlan interrupted\r
+Denisov.\r
+\r
+"But what I say is," he said, turning to Rostov, "it would be best\r
+simply to petition the Emperor for pardon. They say great rewards will\r
+now be distributed, and surely a pardon would be granted...."\r
+\r
+"Me petition the Empewo'!" exclaimed Denisov, in a voice to which he\r
+tried hard to give the old energy and fire, but which sounded like an\r
+expression of irritable impotence. "What for? If I were a wobber I would\r
+ask mercy, but I'm being court-martialed for bwinging wobbers to book.\r
+Let them twy me, I'm not afwaid of anyone. I've served the Tsar and my\r
+countwy honowably and have not stolen! And am I to be degwaded?...\r
+Listen, I'm w'iting to them stwaight. This is what I say: 'If I had\r
+wobbed the Tweasuwy...'"\r
+\r
+"It's certainly well written," said Tushin, "but that's not the point,\r
+Vasili Dmitrich," and he also turned to Rostov. "One has to submit, and\r
+Vasili Dmitrich doesn't want to. You know the auditor told you it was a\r
+bad business."\r
+\r
+"Well, let it be bad," said Denisov.\r
+\r
+"The auditor wrote out a petition for you," continued Tushin, "and you\r
+ought to sign it and ask this gentleman to take it. No doubt he"\r
+(indicating Rostov) "has connections on the staff. You won't find a\r
+better opportunity."\r
+\r
+"Haven't I said I'm not going to gwovel?" Denisov interrupted him, went\r
+on reading his paper.\r
+\r
+Rostov had not the courage to persuade Denisov, though he instinctively\r
+felt that the way advised by Tushin and the other officers was the\r
+safest, and though he would have been glad to be of service to Denisov.\r
+He knew his stubborn will and straightforward hasty temper.\r
+\r
+When the reading of Denisov's virulent reply, which took more than an\r
+hour, was over, Rostov said nothing, and he spent the rest of the day in\r
+a most dejected state of mind amid Denisov's hospital comrades, who had\r
+gathered round him, telling them what he knew and listening to their\r
+stories. Denisov was moodily silent all the evening.\r
+\r
+Late in the evening, when Rostov was about to leave, he asked Denisov\r
+whether he had no commission for him.\r
+\r
+"Yes, wait a bit," said Denisov, glancing round at the officers, and\r
+taking his papers from under his pillow he went to the window, where he\r
+had an inkpot, and sat down to write.\r
+\r
+"It seems it's no use knocking one's head against a wall!" he said,\r
+coming from the window and giving Rostov a large envelope. In it was the\r
+petition to the Emperor drawn up by the auditor, in which Denisov,\r
+without alluding to the offenses of the commissariat officials, simply\r
+asked for pardon.\r
+\r
+"Hand it in. It seems..."\r
+\r
+He did not finish, but gave a painfully unnatural smile.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIX\r
+\r
+Having returned to the regiment and told the commander the state of\r
+Denisov's affairs, Rostov rode to Tilsit with the letter to the Emperor.\r
+\r
+On the thirteenth of June the French and Russian Emperors arrived in\r
+Tilsit. Boris Drubetskoy had asked the important personage on whom he\r
+was in attendance, to include him in the suite appointed for the stay at\r
+Tilsit.\r
+\r
+"I should like to see the great man," he said, alluding to Napoleon,\r
+whom hitherto he, like everyone else, had always called Buonaparte.\r
+\r
+"You are speaking of Buonaparte?" asked the general, smiling.\r
+\r
+Boris looked at his general inquiringly and immediately saw that he was\r
+being tested.\r
+\r
+"I am speaking, Prince, of the Emperor Napoleon," he replied. The\r
+general patted him on the shoulder, with a smile.\r
+\r
+"You will go far," he said, and took him to Tilsit with him.\r
+\r
+Boris was among the few present at the Niemen on the day the two\r
+Emperors met. He saw the raft, decorated with monograms, saw Napoleon\r
+pass before the French Guards on the farther bank of the river, saw the\r
+pensive face of the Emperor Alexander as he sat in silence in a tavern\r
+on the bank of the Niemen awaiting Napoleon's arrival, saw both Emperors\r
+get into boats, and saw how Napoleon--reaching the raft first--stepped\r
+quickly forward to meet Alexander and held out his hand to him, and how\r
+they both retired into the pavilion. Since he had begun to move in the\r
+highest circles Boris had made it his habit to watch attentively all\r
+that went on around him and to note it down. At the time of the meeting\r
+at Tilsit he asked the names of those who had come with Napoleon and\r
+about the uniforms they wore, and listened attentively to words spoken\r
+by important personages. At the moment the Emperors went into the\r
+pavilion he looked at his watch, and did not forget to look at it again\r
+when Alexander came out. The interview had lasted an hour and fifty-\r
+three minutes. He noted this down that same evening, among other facts\r
+he felt to be of historic importance. As the Emperor's suite was a very\r
+small one, it was a matter of great importance, for a man who valued his\r
+success in the service, to be at Tilsit on the occasion of this\r
+interview between the two Emperors, and having succeeded in this, Boris\r
+felt that henceforth his position was fully assured. He had not only\r
+become known, but people had grown accustomed to him and accepted him.\r
+Twice he had executed commissions to the Emperor himself, so that the\r
+latter knew his face, and all those at court, far from cold-shouldering\r
+him as at first when they considered him a newcomer, would now have been\r
+surprised had he been absent.\r
+\r
+Boris lodged with another adjutant, the Polish Count Zhilinski.\r
+Zhilinski, a Pole brought up in Paris, was rich, and passionately fond\r
+of the French, and almost every day of the stay at Tilsit, French\r
+officers of the Guard and from French headquarters were dining and\r
+lunching with him and Boris.\r
+\r
+On the evening of the twenty-fourth of June, Count Zhilinski arranged a\r
+supper for his French friends. The guest of honor was an aide-de-camp of\r
+Napoleon's, there were also several French officers of the Guard, and a\r
+page of Napoleon's, a young lad of an old aristocratic French family.\r
+That same day, Rostov, profiting by the darkness to avoid being\r
+recognized in civilian dress, came to Tilsit and went to the lodging\r
+occupied by Boris and Zhilinski.\r
+\r
+Rostov, in common with the whole army from which he came, was far from\r
+having experienced the change of feeling toward Napoleon and the French-\r
+-who from being foes had suddenly become friends--that had taken place\r
+at headquarters and in Boris. In the army, Bonaparte and the French were\r
+still regarded with mingled feelings of anger, contempt, and fear. Only\r
+recently, talking with one of Platov's Cossack officers, Rostov had\r
+argued that if Napoleon were taken prisoner he would be treated not as a\r
+sovereign, but as a criminal. Quite lately, happening to meet a wounded\r
+French colonel on the road, Rostov had maintained with heat that peace\r
+was impossible between a legitimate sovereign and the criminal\r
+Bonaparte. Rostov was therefore unpleasantly struck by the presence of\r
+French officers in Boris' lodging, dressed in uniforms he had been\r
+accustomed to see from quite a different point of view from the outposts\r
+of the flank. As soon as he noticed a French officer, who thrust his\r
+head out of the door, that warlike feeling of hostility which he always\r
+experienced at the sight of the enemy suddenly seized him. He stopped at\r
+the threshold and asked in Russian whether Drubetskoy lived there.\r
+Boris, hearing a strange voice in the anteroom, came out to meet him. An\r
+expression of annoyance showed itself for a moment on his face on first\r
+recognizing Rostov.\r
+\r
+"Ah, it's you? Very glad, very glad to see you," he said, however,\r
+coming toward him with a smile. But Rostov had noticed his first\r
+impulse.\r
+\r
+"I've come at a bad time I think. I should not have come, but I have\r
+business," he said coldly.\r
+\r
+"No, I only wonder how you managed to get away from your regiment. Dans\r
+un moment je suis a vous," * he said, answering someone who called him.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "In a minute I shall be at your disposal."\r
+\r
+"I see I'm intruding," Rostov repeated.\r
+\r
+The look of annoyance had already disappeared from Boris' face: having\r
+evidently reflected and decided how to act, he very quietly took both\r
+Rostov's hands and led him into the next room. His eyes, looking\r
+serenely and steadily at Rostov, seemed to be veiled by something, as if\r
+screened by blue spectacles of conventionality. So it seemed to Rostov.\r
+\r
+"Oh, come now! As if you could come at a wrong time!" said Boris, and he\r
+led him into the room where the supper table was laid and introduced him\r
+to his guests, explaining that he was not a civilian, but an hussar\r
+officer, and an old friend of his.\r
+\r
+"Count Zhilinski--le Comte N. N.--le Capitaine S. S.," said he, naming\r
+his guests. Rostov looked frowningly at the Frenchmen, bowed\r
+reluctantly, and remained silent.\r
+\r
+Zhilinski evidently did not receive this new Russian person very\r
+willingly into his circle and did not speak to Rostov. Boris did not\r
+appear to notice the constraint the newcomer produced and, with the same\r
+pleasant composure and the same veiled look in his eyes with which he\r
+had met Rostov, tried to enliven the conversation. One of the Frenchmen,\r
+with the politeness characteristic of his countrymen, addressed the\r
+obstinately taciturn Rostov, saying that the latter had probably come to\r
+Tilsit to see the Emperor.\r
+\r
+"No, I came on business," replied Rostov, briefly.\r
+\r
+Rostov had been out of humor from the moment he noticed the look of\r
+dissatisfaction on Boris' face, and as always happens to those in a bad\r
+humor, it seemed to him that everyone regarded him with aversion and\r
+that he was in everybody's way. He really was in their way, for he alone\r
+took no part in the conversation which again became general. The looks\r
+the visitors cast on him seemed to say: "And what is he sitting here\r
+for?" He rose and went up to Boris.\r
+\r
+"Anyhow, I'm in your way," he said in a low tone. "Come and talk over my\r
+business and I'll go away."\r
+\r
+"Oh, no, not at all," said Boris. "But if you are tired, come and lie\r
+down in my room and have a rest."\r
+\r
+"Yes, really..."\r
+\r
+They went into the little room where Boris slept. Rostov, without\r
+sitting down, began at once, irritably (as if Boris were to blame in\r
+some way) telling him about Denisov's affair, asking him whether,\r
+through his general, he could and would intercede with the Emperor on\r
+Denisov's behalf and get Denisov's petition handed in. When he and Boris\r
+were alone, Rostov felt for the first time that he could not look Boris\r
+in the face without a sense of awkwardness. Boris, with one leg crossed\r
+over the other and stroking his left hand with the slender fingers of\r
+his right, listened to Rostov as a general listens to the report of a\r
+subordinate, now looking aside and now gazing straight into Rostov's\r
+eyes with the same veiled look. Each time this happened Rostov felt\r
+uncomfortable and cast down his eyes.\r
+\r
+"I have heard of such cases and know that His Majesty is very severe in\r
+such affairs. I think it would be best not to bring it before the\r
+Emperor, but to apply to the commander of the corps.... But in general,\r
+I think..."\r
+\r
+"So you don't want to do anything? Well then, say so!" Rostov almost\r
+shouted, not looking Boris in the face.\r
+\r
+Boris smiled.\r
+\r
+"On the contrary, I will do what I can. Only I thought..."\r
+\r
+At that moment Zhilinski's voice was heard calling Boris.\r
+\r
+"Well then, go, go, go..." said Rostov, and refusing supper and\r
+remaining alone in the little room, he walked up and down for a long\r
+time, hearing the lighthearted French conversation from the next room.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XX\r
+\r
+Rostov had come to Tilsit the day least suitable for a petition on\r
+Denisov's behalf. He could not himself go to the general in attendance\r
+as he was in mufti and had come to Tilsit without permission to do so,\r
+and Boris, even had he wished to, could not have done so on the\r
+following day. On that day, June 27, the preliminaries of peace were\r
+signed. The Emperors exchanged decorations: Alexander received the Cross\r
+of the Legion of Honor and Napoleon the Order of St. Andrew of the First\r
+Degree, and a dinner had been arranged for the evening, given by a\r
+battalion of the French Guards to the Preobrazhensk battalion. The\r
+Emperors were to be present at that banquet.\r
+\r
+Rostov felt so ill at ease and uncomfortable with Boris that, when the\r
+latter looked in after supper, he pretended to be asleep, and early next\r
+morning went away, avoiding Boris. In his civilian clothes and a round\r
+hat, he wandered about the town, staring at the French and their\r
+uniforms and at the streets and houses where the Russian and French\r
+Emperors were staying. In a square he saw tables being set up and\r
+preparations made for the dinner; he saw the Russian and French colors\r
+draped from side to side of the streets, with huge monograms A and N. In\r
+the windows of the houses also flags and bunting were displayed.\r
+\r
+"Boris doesn't want to help me and I don't want to ask him. That's\r
+settled," thought Nicholas. "All is over between us, but I won't leave\r
+here without having done all I can for Denisov and certainly not without\r
+getting his letter to the Emperor. The Emperor!... He is here!" thought\r
+Rostov, who had unconsciously returned to the house where Alexander\r
+lodged.\r
+\r
+Saddled horses were standing before the house and the suite were\r
+assembling, evidently preparing for the Emperor to come out.\r
+\r
+"I may see him at any moment," thought Rostov. "If only I were to hand\r
+the letter direct to him and tell him all... could they really arrest me\r
+for my civilian clothes? Surely not! He would understand on whose side\r
+justice lies. He understands everything, knows everything. Who can be\r
+more just, more magnanimous than he? And even if they did arrest me for\r
+being here, what would it matter?" thought he, looking at an officer who\r
+was entering the house the Emperor occupied. "After all, people do go\r
+in.... It's all nonsense! I'll go in and hand the letter to the Emperor\r
+myself so much the worse for Drubetskoy who drives me to it!" And\r
+suddenly with a determination he himself did not expect, Rostov felt for\r
+the letter in his pocket and went straight to the house.\r
+\r
+"No, I won't miss my opportunity now, as I did after Austerlitz," he\r
+thought, expecting every moment to meet the monarch, and conscious of\r
+the blood that rushed to his heart at the thought. "I will fall at his\r
+feet and beseech him. He will lift me up, will listen, and will even\r
+thank me. 'I am happy when I can do good, but to remedy injustice is the\r
+greatest happiness,'" Rostov fancied the sovereign saying. And passing\r
+people who looked after him with curiosity, he entered the porch of the\r
+Emperor's house.\r
+\r
+A broad staircase led straight up from the entry, and to the right he\r
+saw a closed door. Below, under the staircase, was a door leading to the\r
+lower floor.\r
+\r
+"Whom do you want?" someone inquired.\r
+\r
+"To hand in a letter, a petition, to His Majesty," said Nicholas, with a\r
+tremor in his voice.\r
+\r
+"A petition? This way, to the officer on duty" (he was shown the door\r
+leading downstairs), "only it won't be accepted."\r
+\r
+On hearing this indifferent voice, Rostov grew frightened at what he was\r
+doing; the thought of meeting the Emperor at any moment was so\r
+fascinating and consequently so alarming that he was ready to run away,\r
+but the official who had questioned him opened the door, and Rostov\r
+entered.\r
+\r
+A short stout man of about thirty, in white breeches and high boots and\r
+a batiste shirt that he had evidently only just put on, standing in that\r
+room, and his valet was buttoning on to the back of his breeches a new\r
+pair of handsome silk-embroidered braces that, for some reason,\r
+attracted Rostov's attention. This man was speaking to someone in the\r
+adjoining room.\r
+\r
+"A good figure and in her first bloom," he was saying, but on seeing\r
+Rostov, he stopped short and frowned.\r
+\r
+"What is it? A petition?"\r
+\r
+"What is it?" asked the person in the other room.\r
+\r
+"Another petitioner," answered the man with the braces.\r
+\r
+"Tell him to come later. He'll be coming out directly, we must go."\r
+\r
+"Later... later! Tomorrow. It's too late..."\r
+\r
+Rostov turned and was about to go, but the man in the braces stopped\r
+him.\r
+\r
+"Whom have you come from? Who are you?"\r
+\r
+"I come from Major Denisov," answered Rostov.\r
+\r
+"Are you an officer?"\r
+\r
+"Lieutenant Count Rostov."\r
+\r
+"What audacity! Hand it in through your commander. And go along with\r
+you... go," and he continued to put on the uniform the valet handed him.\r
+\r
+Rostov went back into the hall and noticed that in the porch there were\r
+many officers and generals in full parade uniform, whom he had to pass.\r
+\r
+Cursing his temerity, his heart sinking at the thought of finding\r
+himself at any moment face to face with the Emperor and being put to\r
+shame and arrested in his presence, fully alive now to the impropriety\r
+of his conduct and repenting of it, Rostov, with downcast eyes, was\r
+making his way out of the house through the brilliant suite when a\r
+familiar voice called him and a hand detained him.\r
+\r
+"What are you doing here, sir, in civilian dress?" asked a deep voice.\r
+\r
+It was a cavalry general who had obtained the Emperor's special favor\r
+during this campaign, and who had formerly commanded the division in\r
+which Rostov was serving.\r
+\r
+Rostov, in dismay, began justifying himself, but seeing the kindly,\r
+jocular face of the general, he took him aside and in an excited voice\r
+told him the whole affair, asking him to intercede for Denisov, whom the\r
+general knew. Having heard Rostov to the end, the general shook his head\r
+gravely.\r
+\r
+"I'm sorry, sorry for that fine fellow. Give me the letter."\r
+\r
+Hardly had Rostov handed him the letter and finished explaining\r
+Denisov's case, when hasty steps and the jingling of spurs were heard on\r
+the stairs, and the general, leaving him, went to the porch. The\r
+gentlemen of the Emperor's suite ran down the stairs and went to their\r
+horses. Hayne, the same groom who had been at Austerlitz, led up the\r
+Emperor's horse, and the faint creak of a footstep Rostov knew at once\r
+was heard on the stairs. Forgetting the danger of being recognized,\r
+Rostov went close to the porch, together with some inquisitive\r
+civilians, and again, after two years, saw those features he adored:\r
+that same face and same look and step, and the same union of majesty and\r
+mildness.... And the feeling of enthusiasm and love for his sovereign\r
+rose again in Rostov's soul in all its old force. In the uniform of the\r
+Preobrazhensk regiment--white chamois-leather breeches and high boots--\r
+and wearing a star Rostov did not know (it was that of the Legion\r
+d'honneur), the monarch came out into the porch, putting on his gloves\r
+and carrying his hat under his arm. He stopped and looked about him,\r
+brightening everything around by his glance. He spoke a few words to\r
+some of the generals, and, recognizing the former commander of Rostov's\r
+division, smiled and beckoned to him.\r
+\r
+All the suite drew back and Rostov saw the general talking for some time\r
+to the Emperor.\r
+\r
+The Emperor said a few words to him and took a step toward his horse.\r
+Again the crowd of members of the suite and street gazers (among whom\r
+was Rostov) moved nearer to the Emperor. Stopping beside his horse, with\r
+his hand on the saddle, the Emperor turned to the cavalry general and\r
+said in a loud voice, evidently wishing to be heard by all:\r
+\r
+"I cannot do it, General. I cannot, because the law is stronger than I,"\r
+and he raised his foot to the stirrup.\r
+\r
+The general bowed his head respectfully, and the monarch mounted and\r
+rode down the street at a gallop. Beside himself with enthusiasm, Rostov\r
+ran after him with the crowd.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXI\r
+\r
+The Emperor rode to the square where, facing one another, a battalion of\r
+the Preobrazhensk regiment stood on the right and a battalion of the\r
+French Guards in their bearskin caps on the left.\r
+\r
+As the Tsar rode up to one flank of the battalions, which presented\r
+arms, another group of horsemen galloped up to the opposite flank, and\r
+at the head of them Rostov recognized Napoleon. It could be no one else.\r
+He came at a gallop, wearing a small hat, a blue uniform open over a\r
+white vest, and the St. Andrew ribbon over his shoulder. He was riding a\r
+very fine thoroughbred gray Arab horse with a crimson gold-embroidered\r
+saddlecloth. On approaching Alexander he raised his hat, and as he did\r
+so, Rostov, with his cavalryman's eye, could not help noticing that\r
+Napoleon did not sit well or firmly in the saddle. The battalions\r
+shouted "Hurrah!" and "Vive l'Empereur!" Napoleon said something to\r
+Alexander, and both Emperors dismounted and took each other's hands.\r
+Napoleon's face wore an unpleasant and artificial smile. Alexander was\r
+saying something affable to him.\r
+\r
+In spite of the trampling of the French gendarmes' horses, which were\r
+pushing back the crowd, Rostov kept his eyes on every movement of\r
+Alexander and Bonaparte. It struck him as a surprise that Alexander\r
+treated Bonaparte as an equal and that the latter was quite at ease with\r
+the Tsar, as if such relations with an Emperor were an everyday matter\r
+to him.\r
+\r
+Alexander and Napoleon, with the long train of their suites, approached\r
+the right flank of the Preobrazhensk battalion and came straight up to\r
+the crowd standing there. The crowd unexpectedly found itself so close\r
+to the Emperors that Rostov, standing in the front row, was afraid he\r
+might be recognized.\r
+\r
+"Sire, I ask your permission to present the Legion of Honor to the\r
+bravest of your soldiers," said a sharp, precise voice, articulating\r
+every letter.\r
+\r
+This was said by the undersized Napoleon, looking up straight into\r
+Alexander's eyes. Alexander listened attentively to what was said to him\r
+and, bending his head, smiled pleasantly.\r
+\r
+"To him who has borne himself most bravely in this last war," added\r
+Napoleon, accentuating each syllable, as with a composure and assurance\r
+exasperating to Rostov, he ran his eyes over the Russian ranks drawn up\r
+before him, who all presented arms with their eyes fixed on their\r
+Emperor.\r
+\r
+"Will Your Majesty allow me to consult the colonel?" said Alexander and\r
+took a few hasty steps toward Prince Kozlovski, the commander of the\r
+battalion.\r
+\r
+Bonaparte meanwhile began taking the glove off his small white hand,\r
+tore it in doing so, and threw it away. An aide-de-camp behind him\r
+rushed forward and picked it up.\r
+\r
+"To whom shall it be given?" the Emperor Alexander asked Koslovski, in\r
+Russian in a low voice.\r
+\r
+"To whomever Your Majesty commands."\r
+\r
+The Emperor knit his brows with dissatisfaction and, glancing back,\r
+remarked:\r
+\r
+"But we must give him an answer."\r
+\r
+Kozlovski scanned the ranks resolutely and included Rostov in his\r
+scrutiny.\r
+\r
+"Can it be me?" thought Rostov.\r
+\r
+"Lazarev!" the colonel called, with a frown, and Lazarev, the first\r
+soldier in the rank, stepped briskly forward.\r
+\r
+"Where are you off to? Stop here!" voices whispered to Lazarev who did\r
+not know where to go. Lazarev stopped, casting a sidelong look at his\r
+colonel in alarm. His face twitched, as often happens to soldiers called\r
+before the ranks.\r
+\r
+Napoleon slightly turned his head, and put his plump little hand out\r
+behind him as if to take something. The members of his suite, guessing\r
+at once what he wanted, moved about and whispered as they passed\r
+something from one to another, and a page--the same one Rostov had seen\r
+the previous evening at Boris'--ran forward and, bowing respectfully\r
+over the outstretched hand and not keeping it waiting a moment, laid in\r
+it an Order on a red ribbon. Napoleon, without looking, pressed two\r
+fingers together and the badge was between them. Then he approached\r
+Lazarev (who rolled his eyes and persistently gazed at his own monarch),\r
+looked round at the Emperor Alexander to imply that what he was now\r
+doing was done for the sake of his ally, and the small white hand\r
+holding the Order touched one of Lazarev's buttons. It was as if\r
+Napoleon knew that it was only necessary for his hand to deign to touch\r
+that soldier's breast for the soldier to be forever happy, rewarded, and\r
+distinguished from everyone else in the world. Napoleon merely laid the\r
+cross on Lazarev's breast and, dropping his hand, turned toward\r
+Alexander as though sure that the cross would adhere there. And it\r
+really did.\r
+\r
+Officious hands, Russian and French, immediately seized the cross and\r
+fastened it to the uniform. Lazarev glanced morosely at the little man\r
+with white hands who was doing something to him and, still standing\r
+motionless presenting arms, looked again straight into Alexander's eyes,\r
+as if asking whether he should stand there, or go away, or do something\r
+else. But receiving no orders, he remained for some time in that rigid\r
+position.\r
+\r
+The Emperors remounted and rode away. The Preobrazhensk battalion,\r
+breaking rank, mingled with the French Guards and sat down at the tables\r
+prepared for them.\r
+\r
+Lazarev sat in the place of honor. Russian and French officers embraced\r
+him, congratulated him, and pressed his hands. Crowds of officers and\r
+civilians drew near merely to see him. A rumble of Russian and French\r
+voices and laughter filled the air round the tables in the square. Two\r
+officers with flushed faces, looking cheerful and happy, passed by\r
+Rostov.\r
+\r
+"What d'you think of the treat? All on silver plate," one of them was\r
+saying. "Have you seen Lazarev?"\r
+\r
+"I have."\r
+\r
+"Tomorrow, I hear, the Preobrazhenskis will give them a dinner."\r
+\r
+"Yes, but what luck for Lazarev! Twelve hundred francs' pension for\r
+life."\r
+\r
+"Here's a cap, lads!" shouted a Preobrazhensk soldier, donning a shaggy\r
+French cap.\r
+\r
+"It's a fine thing! First-rate!"\r
+\r
+"Have you heard the password?" asked one Guards' officer of another.\r
+"The day before yesterday it was 'Napoleon, France, bravoure';\r
+yesterday, 'Alexandre, Russie, grandeur.' One day our Emperor gives it\r
+and next day Napoleon. Tomorrow our Emperor will send a St. George's\r
+Cross to the bravest of the French Guards. It has to be done. He must\r
+respond in kind."\r
+\r
+Boris, too, with his friend Zhilinski, came to see the Preobrazhensk\r
+banquet. On his way back, he noticed Rostov standing by the corner of a\r
+house.\r
+\r
+"Rostov! How d'you do? We missed one another," he said, and could not\r
+refrain from asking what was the matter, so strangely dismal and\r
+troubled was Rostov's face.\r
+\r
+"Nothing, nothing," replied Rostov.\r
+\r
+"You'll call round?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, I will."\r
+\r
+Rostov stood at that corner for a long time, watching the feast from a\r
+distance. In his mind, a painful process was going on which he could not\r
+bring to a conclusion. Terrible doubts rose in his soul. Now he\r
+remembered Denisov with his changed expression, his submission, and the\r
+whole hospital, with arms and legs torn off and its dirt and disease. So\r
+vividly did he recall that hospital stench of dead flesh that he looked\r
+round to see where the smell came from. Next he thought of that self-\r
+satisfied Bonaparte, with his small white hand, who was now an Emperor,\r
+liked and respected by Alexander. Then why those severed arms and legs\r
+and those dead men?... Then again he thought of Lazarev rewarded and\r
+Denisov punished and unpardoned. He caught himself harboring such\r
+strange thoughts that he was frightened.\r
+\r
+The smell of the food the Preobrazhenskis were eating and a sense of\r
+hunger recalled him from these reflections; he had to get something to\r
+eat before going away. He went to a hotel he had noticed that morning.\r
+There he found so many people, among them officers who, like himself,\r
+had come in civilian clothes, that he had difficulty in getting a\r
+dinner. Two officers of his own division joined him. The conversation\r
+naturally turned on the peace. The officers, his comrades, like most of\r
+the army, were dissatisfied with the peace concluded after the battle of\r
+Friedland. They said that had we held out a little longer Napoleon would\r
+have been done for, as his troops had neither provisions nor ammunition.\r
+Nicholas ate and drank (chiefly the latter) in silence. He finished a\r
+couple of bottles of wine by himself. The process in his mind went on\r
+tormenting him without reaching a conclusion. He feared to give way to\r
+his thoughts, yet could not get rid of them. Suddenly, on one of the\r
+officers' saying that it was humiliating to look at the French, Rostov\r
+began shouting with uncalled-for wrath, and therefore much to the\r
+surprise of the officers:\r
+\r
+"How can you judge what's best?" he cried, the blood suddenly rushing to\r
+his face. "How can you judge the Emperor's actions? What right have we\r
+to argue? We cannot comprehend either the Emperor's aims or his\r
+actions!"\r
+\r
+"But I never said a word about the Emperor!" said the officer,\r
+justifying himself, and unable to understand Rostov's outburst, except\r
+on the supposition that he was drunk.\r
+\r
+But Rostov did not listen to him.\r
+\r
+"We are not diplomatic officials, we are soldiers and nothing more," he\r
+went on. "If we are ordered to die, we must die. If we're punished, it\r
+means that we have deserved it, it's not for us to judge. If the Emperor\r
+pleases to recognize Bonaparte as Emperor and to conclude an alliance\r
+with him, it means that that is the right thing to do. If once we begin\r
+judging and arguing about everything, nothing sacred will be left! That\r
+way we shall be saying there is no God--nothing!" shouted Nicholas,\r
+banging the table--very little to the point as it seemed to his\r
+listeners, but quite relevantly to the course of his own thoughts.\r
+\r
+"Our business is to do our duty, to fight and not to think! That's\r
+all...." said he.\r
+\r
+"And to drink," said one of the officers, not wishing to quarrel.\r
+\r
+"Yes, and to drink," assented Nicholas. "Hullo there! Another bottle!"\r
+he shouted.\r
+\r
+In 1808 the Emperor Alexander went to Erfurt for a fresh interview with\r
+the Emperor Napoleon, and in the upper circles of Petersburg there was\r
+much talk of the grandeur of this important meeting.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXII\r
+\r
+In 1809 the intimacy between "the world's two arbiters," as Napoleon and\r
+Alexander were called, was such that when Napoleon declared war on\r
+Austria a Russian corps crossed the frontier to co-operate with our old\r
+enemy Bonaparte against our old ally the Emperor of Austria, and in\r
+court circles the possibility of marriage between Napoleon and one of\r
+Alexander's sisters was spoken of. But besides considerations of foreign\r
+policy, the attention of Russian society was at that time keenly\r
+directed on the internal changes that were being undertaken in all the\r
+departments of government.\r
+\r
+Life meanwhile--real life, with its essential interests of health and\r
+sickness, toil and rest, and its intellectual interests in thought,\r
+science, poetry, music, love, friendship, hatred, and passions--went on\r
+as usual, independently of and apart from political friendship or enmity\r
+with Napoleon Bonaparte and from all the schemes of reconstruction.\r
+\r
+BOOK SIX: 1808 - 10\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew had spent two years continuously in the country.\r
+\r
+All the plans Pierre had attempted on his estates--and constantly\r
+changing from one thing to another had never accomplished--were carried\r
+out by Prince Andrew without display and without perceptible difficulty.\r
+\r
+He had in the highest degree a practical tenacity which Pierre lacked,\r
+and without fuss or strain on his part this set things going.\r
+\r
+On one of his estates the three hundred serfs were liberated and became\r
+free agricultural laborers--this being one of the first examples of the\r
+kind in Russia. On other estates the serfs' compulsory labor was\r
+commuted for a quitrent. A trained midwife was engaged for Bogucharovo\r
+at his expense, and a priest was paid to teach reading and writing to\r
+the children of the peasants and household serfs.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew spent half his time at Bald Hills with his father and his\r
+son, who was still in the care of nurses. The other half he spent in\r
+"Bogucharovo Cloister," as his father called Prince Andrew's estate.\r
+Despite the indifference to the affairs of the world he had expressed to\r
+Pierre, he diligently followed all that went on, received many books,\r
+and to his surprise noticed that when he or his father had visitors from\r
+Petersburg, the very vortex of life, these people lagged behind himself-\r
+-who never left the country--in knowledge of what was happening in home\r
+and foreign affairs.\r
+\r
+Besides being occupied with his estates and reading a great variety of\r
+books, Prince Andrew was at this time busy with a critical survey of our\r
+last two unfortunate campaigns, and with drawing up a proposal for a\r
+reform of the army rules and regulations.\r
+\r
+In the spring of 1809 he went to visit the Ryazan estates which had been\r
+inherited by his son, whose guardian he was.\r
+\r
+Warmed by the spring sunshine he sat in the caleche looking at the new\r
+grass, the first leaves on the birches, and the first puffs of white\r
+spring clouds floating across the clear blue sky. He was not thinking of\r
+anything, but looked absent-mindedly and cheerfully from side to side.\r
+\r
+They crossed the ferry where he had talked with Pierre the year before.\r
+They went through the muddy village, past threshing floors and green\r
+fields of winter rye, downhill where snow still lodged near the bridge,\r
+uphill where the clay had been liquefied by the rain, past strips of\r
+stubble land and bushes touched with green here and there, and into a\r
+birch forest growing on both sides of the road. In the forest it was\r
+almost hot, no wind could be felt. The birches with their sticky green\r
+leaves were motionless, and lilac-colored flowers and the first blades\r
+of green grass were pushing up and lifting last year's leaves. The\r
+coarse evergreen color of the small fir trees scattered here and there\r
+among the birches was an unpleasant reminder of winter. On entering the\r
+forest the horses began to snort and sweated visibly.\r
+\r
+Peter the footman made some remark to the coachman; the latter assented.\r
+But apparently the coachman's sympathy was not enough for Peter, and he\r
+turned on the box toward his master.\r
+\r
+"How pleasant it is, your excellency!" he said with a respectful smile.\r
+\r
+"What?"\r
+\r
+"It's pleasant, your excellency!"\r
+\r
+\r
+"What is he talking about?" thought Prince Andrew. "Oh, the spring, I\r
+suppose," he thought as he turned round. "Yes, really everything is\r
+green already.... How early! The birches and cherry and alders too are\r
+coming out.... But the oaks show no sign yet. Ah, here is one oak!"\r
+\r
+At the edge of the road stood an oak. Probably ten times the age of the\r
+birches that formed the forest, it was ten times as thick and twice as\r
+tall as they. It was an enormous tree, its girth twice as great as a man\r
+could embrace, and evidently long ago some of its branches had been\r
+broken off and its bark scarred. With its huge ungainly limbs sprawling\r
+unsymmetrically, and its gnarled hands and fingers, it stood an aged,\r
+stern, and scornful monster among the smiling birch trees. Only the\r
+dead-looking evergreen firs dotted about in the forest, and this oak,\r
+refused to yield to the charm of spring or notice either the spring or\r
+the sunshine.\r
+\r
+"Spring, love, happiness!" this oak seemed to say. "Are you not weary of\r
+that stupid, meaningless, constantly repeated fraud? Always the same and\r
+always a fraud? There is no spring, no sun, no happiness! Look at those\r
+cramped dead firs, ever the same, and at me too, sticking out my broken\r
+and barked fingers just where they have grown, whether from my back or\r
+my sides: as they have grown so I stand, and I do not believe in your\r
+hopes and your lies."\r
+\r
+As he passed through the forest Prince Andrew turned several times to\r
+look at that oak, as if expecting something from it. Under the oak, too,\r
+were flowers and grass, but it stood among them scowling, rigid,\r
+misshapen, and grim as ever.\r
+\r
+"Yes, the oak is right, a thousand times right," thought Prince Andrew.\r
+"Let others--the young--yield afresh to that fraud, but we know life,\r
+our life is finished!"\r
+\r
+A whole sequence of new thoughts, hopeless but mournfully pleasant, rose\r
+in his soul in connection with that tree. During this journey he, as it\r
+were, considered his life afresh and arrived at his old conclusion,\r
+restful in its hopelessness: that it was not for him to begin anything\r
+anew--but that he must live out his life, content to do no harm, and not\r
+disturbing himself or desiring anything.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew had to see the Marshal of the Nobility for the district in\r
+connection with the affairs of the Ryazan estate of which he was\r
+trustee. This Marshal was Count Ilya Rostov, and in the middle of May\r
+Prince Andrew went to visit him.\r
+\r
+It was now hot spring weather. The whole forest was already clothed in\r
+green. It was dusty and so hot that on passing near water one longed to\r
+bathe.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew, depressed and preoccupied with the business about which\r
+he had to speak to the Marshal, was driving up the avenue in the grounds\r
+of the Rostovs' house at Otradnoe. He heard merry girlish cries behind\r
+some trees on the right and saw a group of girls running to cross the\r
+path of his caleche. Ahead of the rest and nearer to him ran a dark-\r
+haired, remarkably slim, pretty girl in a yellow chintz dress, with a\r
+white handkerchief on her head from under which loose locks of hair\r
+escaped. The girl was shouting something but, seeing that he was a\r
+stranger, ran back laughing without looking at him.\r
+\r
+Suddenly, he did not know why, he felt a pang. The day was so beautiful,\r
+the sun so bright, everything around so gay, but that slim pretty girl\r
+did not know, or wish to know, of his existence and was contented and\r
+cheerful in her own separate--probably foolish--but bright and happy\r
+life. "What is she so glad about? What is she thinking of? Not of the\r
+military regulations or of the arrangement of the Ryazan serfs'\r
+quitrents. Of what is she thinking? Why is she so happy?" Prince Andrew\r
+asked himself with instinctive curiosity.\r
+\r
+In 1809 Count Ilya Rostov was living at Otradnoe just as he had done in\r
+former years, that is, entertaining almost the whole province with\r
+hunts, theatricals, dinners, and music. He was glad to see Prince\r
+Andrew, as he was to see any new visitor, and insisted on his staying\r
+the night.\r
+\r
+During the dull day, in the course of which he was entertained by his\r
+elderly hosts and by the more important of the visitors (the old count's\r
+house was crowded on account of an approaching name day), Prince Andrew\r
+repeatedly glanced at Natasha, gay and laughing among the younger\r
+members of the company, and asked himself each time, "What is she\r
+thinking about? Why is she so glad?"\r
+\r
+That night, alone in new surroundings, he was long unable to sleep. He\r
+read awhile and then put out his candle, but relit it. It was hot in the\r
+room, the inside shutters of which were closed. He was cross with the\r
+stupid old man (as he called Rostov), who had made him stay by assuring\r
+him that some necessary documents had not yet arrived from town, and he\r
+was vexed with himself for having stayed.\r
+\r
+He got up and went to the window to open it. As soon as he opened the\r
+shutters the moonlight, as if it had long been watching for this, burst\r
+into the room. He opened the casement. The night was fresh, bright, and\r
+very still. Just before the window was a row of pollard trees, looking\r
+black on one side and with a silvery light on the other. Beneath the\r
+trees grew some kind of lush, wet, bushy vegetation with silver-lit\r
+leaves and stems here and there. Farther back beyond the dark trees a\r
+roof glittered with dew, to the right was a leafy tree with brilliantly\r
+white trunk and branches, and above it shone the moon, nearly at its\r
+full, in a pale, almost starless, spring sky. Prince Andrew leaned his\r
+elbows on the window ledge and his eyes rested on that sky.\r
+\r
+His room was on the first floor. Those in the rooms above were also\r
+awake. He heard female voices overhead.\r
+\r
+"Just once more," said a girlish voice above him which Prince Andrew\r
+recognized at once.\r
+\r
+"But when are you coming to bed?" replied another voice.\r
+\r
+"I won't, I can't sleep, what's the use? Come now for the last time."\r
+\r
+\r
+Two girlish voices sang a musical passage--the end of some song.\r
+\r
+"Oh, how lovely! Now go to sleep, and there's an end of it."\r
+\r
+"You go to sleep, but I can't," said the first voice, coming nearer to\r
+the window. She was evidently leaning right out, for the rustle of her\r
+dress and even her breathing could be heard. Everything was stone-still,\r
+like the moon and its light and the shadows. Prince Andrew, too, dared\r
+not stir, for fear of betraying his unintentional presence.\r
+\r
+"Sonya! Sonya!" he again heard the first speaker. "Oh, how can you\r
+sleep? Only look how glorious it is! Ah, how glorious! Do wake up,\r
+Sonya!" she said almost with tears in her voice. "There never, never was\r
+such a lovely night before!"\r
+\r
+Sonya made some reluctant reply.\r
+\r
+"Do just come and see what a moon!... Oh, how lovely! Come here....\r
+Darling, sweetheart, come here! There, you see? I feel like sitting down\r
+on my heels, putting my arms round my knees like this, straining tight,\r
+as tight as possible, and flying away! Like this...."\r
+\r
+"Take care, you'll fall out."\r
+\r
+He heard the sound of a scuffle and Sonya's disapproving voice: "It's\r
+past one o'clock."\r
+\r
+"Oh, you only spoil things for me. All right, go, go!"\r
+\r
+Again all was silent, but Prince Andrew knew she was still sitting\r
+there. From time to time he heard a soft rustle and at times a sigh.\r
+\r
+"O God, O God! What does it mean?" she suddenly exclaimed. "To bed then,\r
+if it must be!" and she slammed the casement.\r
+\r
+"For her I might as well not exist!" thought Prince Andrew while he\r
+listened to her voice, for some reason expecting yet fearing that she\r
+might say something about him. "There she is again! As if it were on\r
+purpose," thought he.\r
+\r
+In his soul there suddenly arose such an unexpected turmoil of youthful\r
+thoughts and hopes, contrary to the whole tenor of his life, that unable\r
+to explain his condition to himself he lay down and fell asleep at once.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+Next morning, having taken leave of no one but the count, and not\r
+waiting for the ladies to appear, Prince Andrew set off for home.\r
+\r
+It was already the beginning of June when on his return journey he drove\r
+into the birch forest where the gnarled old oak had made so strange and\r
+memorable an impression on him. In the forest the harness bells sounded\r
+yet more muffled than they had done six weeks before, for now all was\r
+thick, shady, and dense, and the young firs dotted about in the forest\r
+did not jar on the general beauty but, lending themselves to the mood\r
+around, were delicately green with fluffy young shoots.\r
+\r
+The whole day had been hot. Somewhere a storm was gathering, but only a\r
+small cloud had scattered some raindrops lightly, sprinkling the road\r
+and the sappy leaves. The left side of the forest was dark in the shade,\r
+the right side glittered in the sunlight, wet and shiny and scarcely\r
+swayed by the breeze. Everything was in blossom, the nightingales\r
+trilled, and their voices reverberated now near, now far away.\r
+\r
+"Yes, here in this forest was that oak with which I agreed," thought\r
+Prince Andrew. "But where is it?" he again wondered, gazing at the left\r
+side of the road, and without recognizing it he looked with admiration\r
+at the very oak he sought. The old oak, quite transfigured, spreading\r
+out a canopy of sappy dark-green foliage, stood rapt and slightly\r
+trembling in the rays of the evening sun. Neither gnarled fingers nor\r
+old scars nor old doubts and sorrows were any of them in evidence now.\r
+Through the hard century-old bark, even where there were no twigs,\r
+leaves had sprouted such as one could hardly believe the old veteran\r
+could have produced.\r
+\r
+"Yes, it is the same oak," thought Prince Andrew, and all at once he was\r
+seized by an unreasoning springtime feeling of joy and renewal. All the\r
+best moments of his life suddenly rose to his memory. Austerlitz with\r
+the lofty heavens, his wife's dead reproachful face, Pierre at the\r
+ferry, that girl thrilled by the beauty of the night, and that night\r
+itself and the moon, and.... all this rushed suddenly to his mind.\r
+\r
+"No, life is not over at thirty-one!" Prince Andrew suddenly decided\r
+finally and decisively. "It is not enough for me to know what I have in\r
+me--everyone must know it: Pierre, and that young girl who wanted to fly\r
+away into the sky, everyone must know me, so that my life may not be\r
+lived for myself alone while others live so apart from it, but so that\r
+it may be reflected in them all, and they and I may live in harmony!"\r
+\r
+On reaching home Prince Andrew decided to go to Petersburg that autumn\r
+and found all sorts of reasons for this decision. A whole series of\r
+sensible and logical considerations showing it to be essential for him\r
+to go to Petersburg, and even to re-enter the service, kept springing up\r
+in his mind. He could not now understand how he could ever even have\r
+doubted the necessity of taking an active share in life, just as a month\r
+before he had not understood how the idea of leaving the quiet country\r
+could ever enter his head. It now seemed clear to him that all his\r
+experience of life must be senselessly wasted unless he applied it to\r
+some kind of work and again played an active part in life. He did not\r
+even remember how formerly, on the strength of similar wretched logical\r
+arguments, it had seemed obvious that he would be degrading himself if\r
+he now, after the lessons he had had in life, allowed himself to believe\r
+in the possibility of being useful and in the possibility of happiness\r
+or love. Now reason suggested quite the opposite. After that journey to\r
+Ryazan he found the country dull; his former pursuits no longer\r
+interested him, and often when sitting alone in his study he got up,\r
+went to the mirror, and gazed a long time at his own face. Then he would\r
+turn away to the portrait of his dead Lise, who with hair curled a la\r
+grecque looked tenderly and gaily at him out of the gilt frame. She did\r
+not now say those former terrible words to him, but looked simply,\r
+merrily, and inquisitively at him. And Prince Andrew, crossing his arms\r
+behind him, long paced the room, now frowning, now smiling, as he\r
+reflected on those irrational, inexpressible thoughts, secret as a\r
+crime, which altered his whole life and were connected with Pierre, with\r
+fame, with the girl at the window, the oak, and woman's beauty and love.\r
+And if anyone came into his room at such moments he was particularly\r
+cold, stern, and above all unpleasantly logical.\r
+\r
+"My dear," Princess Mary entering at such a moment would say, "little\r
+Nicholas can't go out today, it's very cold."\r
+\r
+"If it were hot," Prince Andrew would reply at such times very dryly to\r
+his sister, "he could go out in his smock, but as it is cold he must\r
+wear warm clothes, which were designed for that purpose. That is what\r
+follows from the fact that it is cold; and not that a child who needs\r
+fresh air should remain at home," he would add with extreme logic, as if\r
+punishing someone for those secret illogical emotions that stirred\r
+within him.\r
+\r
+At such moments Princess Mary would think how intellectual work dries\r
+men up.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew arrived in Petersburg in August, 1809. It was the time\r
+when the youthful Speranski was at the zenith of his fame and his\r
+reforms were being pushed forward with the greatest energy. That same\r
+August the Emperor was thrown from his caleche, injured his leg, and\r
+remained three weeks at Peterhof, receiving Speranski every day and no\r
+one else. At that time the two famous decrees were being prepared that\r
+so agitated society--abolishing court ranks and introducing examinations\r
+to qualify for the grades of Collegiate Assessor and State Councilor--\r
+and not merely these but a whole state constitution, intended to change\r
+the existing order of government in Russia: legal, administrative, and\r
+financial, from the Council of State down to the district tribunals. Now\r
+those vague liberal dreams with which the Emperor Alexander had ascended\r
+the throne, and which he had tried to put into effect with the aid of\r
+his associates, Czartoryski, Novosiltsev, Kochubey, and Strogonov--whom\r
+he himself in jest had called his Comite de salut public--were taking\r
+shape and being realized.\r
+\r
+Now all these men were replaced by Speranski on the civil side, and\r
+Arakcheev on the military. Soon after his arrival Prince Andrew, as a\r
+gentleman of the chamber, presented himself at court and at a levee. The\r
+Emperor, though he met him twice, did not favor him with a single word.\r
+It had always seemed to Prince Andrew before that he was antipathetic to\r
+the Emperor and that the latter disliked his face and personality\r
+generally, and in the cold, repellent glance the Emperor gave him, he\r
+now found further confirmation of this surmise. The courtiers explained\r
+the Emperor's neglect of him by His Majesty's displeasure at Bolkonski's\r
+not having served since 1805.\r
+\r
+"I know myself that one cannot help one's sympathies and antipathies,"\r
+thought Prince Andrew, "so it will not do to present my proposal for the\r
+reform of the army regulations to the Emperor personally, but the\r
+project will speak for itself."\r
+\r
+He mentioned what he had written to an old field marshal, a friend of\r
+his father's. The field marshal made an appointment to see him, received\r
+him graciously, and promised to inform the Emperor. A few days later\r
+Prince Andrew received notice that he was to go to see the Minister of\r
+War, Count Arakcheev.\r
+\r
+On the appointed day Prince Andrew entered Count Arakcheev's waiting\r
+room at nine in the morning.\r
+\r
+He did not know Arakcheev personally, had never seen him, and all he had\r
+heard of him inspired him with but little respect for the man.\r
+\r
+"He is Minister of War, a man trusted by the Emperor, and I need not\r
+concern myself about his personal qualities: he has been commissioned to\r
+consider my project, so he alone can get it adopted," thought Prince\r
+Andrew as he waited among a number of important and unimportant people\r
+in Count Arakcheev's waiting room.\r
+\r
+During his service, chiefly as an adjutant, Prince Andrew had seen the\r
+anterooms of many important men, and the different types of such rooms\r
+were well known to him. Count Arakcheev's anteroom had quite a special\r
+character. The faces of the unimportant people awaiting their turn for\r
+an audience showed embarrassment and servility; the faces of those of\r
+higher rank expressed a common feeling of awkwardness, covered by a mask\r
+of unconcern and ridicule of themselves, their situation, and the person\r
+for whom they were waiting. Some walked thoughtfully up and down, others\r
+whispered and laughed. Prince Andrew heard the nickname "Sila\r
+Andreevich" and the words, "Uncle will give it to us hot," in reference\r
+to Count Arakcheev. One general (an important personage), evidently\r
+feeling offended at having to wait so long, sat crossing and uncrossing\r
+his legs and smiling contemptuously to himself.\r
+\r
+But the moment the door opened one feeling alone appeared on all faces--\r
+that of fear. Prince Andrew for the second time asked the adjutant on\r
+duty to take in his name, but received an ironical look and was told\r
+that his turn would come in due course. After some others had been shown\r
+in and out of the minister's room by the adjutant on duty, an officer\r
+who struck Prince Andrew by his humiliated and frightened air was\r
+admitted at that terrible door. This officer's audience lasted a long\r
+time. Then suddenly the grating sound of a harsh voice was heard from\r
+the other side of the door, and the officer--with pale face and\r
+trembling lips--came out and passed through the waiting room, clutching\r
+his head.\r
+\r
+After this Prince Andrew was conducted to the door and the officer on\r
+duty said in a whisper, "To the right, at the window."\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew entered a plain tidy room and saw at the table a man of\r
+forty with a long waist, a long closely cropped head, deep wrinkles,\r
+scowling brows above dull greenish-hazel eyes and an overhanging red\r
+nose. Arakcheev turned his head toward him without looking at him.\r
+\r
+"What is your petition?" asked Arakcheev.\r
+\r
+"I am not petitioning, your excellency," returned Prince Andrew quietly.\r
+\r
+Arakcheev's eyes turned toward him.\r
+\r
+"Sit down," said he. "Prince Bolkonski?"\r
+\r
+"I am not petitioning about anything. His Majesty the Emperor has\r
+deigned to send your excellency a project submitted by me..."\r
+\r
+"You see, my dear sir, I have read your project," interrupted Arakcheev,\r
+uttering only the first words amiably and then--again without looking at\r
+Prince Andrew--relapsing gradually into a tone of grumbling contempt.\r
+"You are proposing new military laws? There are many laws but no one to\r
+carry out the old ones. Nowadays everybody designs laws, it is easier\r
+writing than doing."\r
+\r
+"I came at His Majesty the Emperor's wish to learn from your excellency\r
+how you propose to deal with the memorandum I have presented," said\r
+Prince Andrew politely.\r
+\r
+"I have endorsed a resolution on your memorandum and sent it to the\r
+committee. I do not approve of it," said Arakcheev, rising and taking a\r
+paper from his writing table. "Here!" and he handed it to Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+Across the paper was scrawled in pencil, without capital letters,\r
+misspelled, and without punctuation: "Unsoundly constructed because\r
+resembles an imitation of the French military code and from the Articles\r
+of War needlessly deviating."\r
+\r
+"To what committee has the memorandum been referred?" inquired Prince\r
+Andrew.\r
+\r
+"To the Committee on Army Regulations, and I have recommended that your\r
+honor should be appointed a member, but without a salary."\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew smiled.\r
+\r
+"I don't want one."\r
+\r
+"A member without salary," repeated Arakcheev. "I have the honor... Eh!\r
+Call the next one! Who else is there?" he shouted, bowing to Prince\r
+Andrew.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+While waiting for the announcement of his appointment to the committee\r
+Prince Andrew looked up his former acquaintances, particularly those he\r
+knew to be in power and whose aid he might need. In Petersburg he now\r
+experienced the same feeling he had had on the eve of a battle, when\r
+troubled by anxious curiosity and irresistibly attracted to the ruling\r
+circles where the future, on which the fate of millions depended, was\r
+being shaped. From the irritation of the older men, the curiosity of the\r
+uninitiated, the reserve of the initiated, the hurry and preoccupation\r
+of everyone, and the innumerable committees and commissions of whose\r
+existence he learned every day, he felt that now, in 1809, here in\r
+Petersburg a vast civil conflict was in preparation, the commander in\r
+chief of which was a mysterious person he did not know, but who was\r
+supposed to be a man of genius--Speranski. And this movement of\r
+reconstruction of which Prince Andrew had a vague idea, and Speranski\r
+its chief promoter, began to interest him so keenly that the question of\r
+the army regulations quickly receded to a secondary place in his\r
+consciousness.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew was most favorably placed to secure good reception in the\r
+highest and most diverse Petersburg circles of the day. The reforming\r
+party cordially welcomed and courted him, in the first place because he\r
+was reputed to be clever and very well read, and secondly because by\r
+liberating his serfs he had obtained the reputation of being a liberal.\r
+The party of the old and dissatisfied, who censured the innovations,\r
+turned to him expecting his sympathy in their disapproval of the\r
+reforms, simply because he was the son of his father. The feminine\r
+society world welcomed him gladly, because he was rich, distinguished, a\r
+good match, and almost a newcomer, with a halo of romance on account of\r
+his supposed death and the tragic loss of his wife. Besides this the\r
+general opinion of all who had known him previously was that he had\r
+greatly improved during these last five years, having softened and grown\r
+more manly, lost his former affectation, pride, and contemptuous irony,\r
+and acquired the serenity that comes with years. People talked about\r
+him, were interested in him, and wanted to meet him.\r
+\r
+The day after his interview with Count Arakcheev, Prince Andrew spent\r
+the evening at Count Kochubey's. He told the count of his interview with\r
+Sila Andreevich (Kochubey spoke of Arakcheev by that nickname with the\r
+same vague irony Prince Andrew had noticed in the Minister of War's\r
+anteroom).\r
+\r
+"Mon cher, even in this case you can't do without Michael Mikhaylovich\r
+Speranski. He manages everything. I'll speak to him. He has promised to\r
+come this evening."\r
+\r
+"What has Speranski to do with the army regulations?" asked Prince\r
+Andrew.\r
+\r
+Kochubey shook his head smilingly, as if surprised at Bolkonski's\r
+simplicity.\r
+\r
+"We were talking to him about you a few days ago," Kochubey continued,\r
+"and about your freed plowmen."\r
+\r
+"Oh, is it you, Prince, who have freed your serfs?" said an old man of\r
+Catherine's day, turning contemptuously toward Bolkonski.\r
+\r
+"It was a small estate that brought in no profit," replied Prince\r
+Andrew, trying to extenuate his action so as not to irritate the old man\r
+uselessly.\r
+\r
+"Afraid of being late..." said the old man, looking at Kochubey.\r
+\r
+"There's one thing I don't understand," he continued. "Who will plow the\r
+land if they are set free? It is easy to write laws, but difficult to\r
+rule.... Just the same as now--I ask you, Count--who will be heads of\r
+the departments when everybody has to pass examinations?"\r
+\r
+"Those who pass the examinations, I suppose," replied Kochubey, crossing\r
+his legs and glancing round.\r
+\r
+"Well, I have Pryanichnikov serving under me, a splendid man, a\r
+priceless man, but he's sixty. Is he to go up for examination?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, that's a difficulty, as education is not at all general, but..."\r
+\r
+Count Kochubey did not finish. He rose, took Prince Andrew by the arm,\r
+and went to meet a tall, bald, fair man of about forty with a large open\r
+forehead and a long face of unusual and peculiar whiteness, who was just\r
+entering. The newcomer wore a blue swallow-tail coat with a cross\r
+suspended from his neck and a star on his left breast. It was Speranski.\r
+Prince Andrew recognized him at once, and felt a throb within him, as\r
+happens at critical moments of life. Whether it was from respect, envy,\r
+or anticipation, he did not know. Speranski's whole figure was of a\r
+peculiar type that made him easily recognizable. In the society in which\r
+Prince Andrew lived he had never seen anyone who together with awkward\r
+and clumsy gestures possessed such calmness and self-assurance; he had\r
+never seen so resolute yet gentle an expression as that in those half-\r
+closed, rather humid eyes, or so firm a smile that expressed nothing;\r
+nor had he heard such a refined, smooth, soft voice; above all he had\r
+never seen such delicate whiteness of face or hands--hands which were\r
+broad, but very plump, soft, and white. Such whiteness and softness\r
+Prince Andrew had only seen on the faces of soldiers who had been long\r
+in hospital. This was Speranski, Secretary of State, reporter to the\r
+Emperor and his companion at Erfurt, where he had more than once met and\r
+talked with Napoleon.\r
+\r
+Speranski did not shift his eyes from one face to another as people\r
+involuntarily do on entering a large company and was in no hurry to\r
+speak. He spoke slowly, with assurance that he would be listened to, and\r
+he looked only at the person with whom he was conversing.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew followed Speranski's every word and movement with\r
+particular attention. As happens to some people, especially to men who\r
+judge those near to them severely, he always on meeting anyone new--\r
+especially anyone whom, like Speranski, he knew by reputation--expected\r
+to discover in him the perfection of human qualities.\r
+\r
+Speranski told Kochubey he was sorry he had been unable to come sooner\r
+as he had been detained at the palace. He did not say that the Emperor\r
+had kept him, and Prince Andrew noticed this affectation of modesty.\r
+When Kochubey introduced Prince Andrew, Speranski slowly turned his eyes\r
+to Bolkonski with his customary smile and looked at him in silence.\r
+\r
+"I am very glad to make your acquaintance. I had heard of you, as\r
+everyone has," he said after a pause.\r
+\r
+Kochubey said a few words about the reception Arakcheev had given\r
+Bolkonski. Speranski smiled more markedly.\r
+\r
+"The chairman of the Committee on Army Regulations is my good friend\r
+Monsieur Magnitski," he said, fully articulating every word and\r
+syllable, "and if you like I can put you in touch with him." He paused\r
+at the full stop. "I hope you will find him sympathetic and ready to co-\r
+operate in promoting all that is reasonable."\r
+\r
+A circle soon formed round Speranski, and the old man who had talked\r
+about his subordinate Pryanichnikov addressed a question to him.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew without joining in the conversation watched every movement\r
+of Speranski's: this man, not long since an insignificant divinity\r
+student, who now, Bolkonski thought, held in his hands--those plump\r
+white hands--the fate of Russia. Prince Andrew was struck by the\r
+extraordinarily disdainful composure with which Speranski answered the\r
+old man. He appeared to address condescending words to him from an\r
+immeasurable height. When the old man began to speak too loud, Speranski\r
+smiled and said he could not judge of the advantage or disadvantage of\r
+what pleased the sovereign.\r
+\r
+Having talked for a little while in the general circle, Speranski rose\r
+and coming up to Prince Andrew took him along to the other end of the\r
+room. It was clear that he thought it necessary to interest himself in\r
+Bolkonski.\r
+\r
+"I had no chance to talk with you, Prince, during the animated\r
+conversation in which that venerable gentleman involved me," he said\r
+with a mildly contemptuous smile, as if intimating by that smile that he\r
+and Prince Andrew understood the insignificance of the people with whom\r
+he had just been talking. This flattered Prince Andrew. "I have known of\r
+you for a long time: first from your action with regard to your serfs, a\r
+first example, of which it is very desirable that there should be more\r
+imitators; and secondly because you are one of those gentlemen of the\r
+chamber who have not considered themselves offended by the new decree\r
+concerning the ranks allotted to courtiers, which is causing so much\r
+gossip and tittle-tattle."\r
+\r
+"No," said Prince Andrew, "my father did not wish me to take advantage\r
+of the privilege. I began the service from the lower grade."\r
+\r
+"Your father, a man of the last century, evidently stands above our\r
+contemporaries who so condemn this measure which merely reestablishes\r
+natural justice."\r
+\r
+"I think, however, that these condemnations have some ground," returned\r
+Prince Andrew, trying to resist Speranski's influence, of which he began\r
+to be conscious. He did not like to agree with him in everything and\r
+felt a wish to contradict. Though he usually spoke easily and well, he\r
+felt a difficulty in expressing himself now while talking with\r
+Speranski. He was too much absorbed in observing the famous man's\r
+personality.\r
+\r
+"Grounds of personal ambition maybe," Speranski put in quietly.\r
+\r
+"And of state interest to some extent," said Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+"What do you mean?" asked Speranski quietly, lowering his eyes.\r
+\r
+"I am an admirer of Montesquieu," replied Prince Andrew, "and his idea\r
+that le principe des monarchies est l'honneur me parait incontestable.\r
+Certains droits et privileges de la noblesse me paraissent etre des\r
+moyens de soutenir ce sentiment." *\r
+\r
+\r
+* "The principle of monarchies is honor seems to me incontestable.\r
+Certain rights and privileges for the aristocracy appear to me a means\r
+of maintaining that sentiment."\r
+\r
+The smile vanished from Speranski's white face, which was much improved\r
+by the change. Probably Prince Andrew's thought interested him.\r
+\r
+"Si vous envisagez la question sous ce point de vue," * he began,\r
+pronouncing French with evident difficulty, and speaking even slower\r
+than in Russian but quite calmly.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "If you regard the question from that point of view."\r
+\r
+Speranski went on to say that honor, l'honneur, cannot be upheld by\r
+privileges harmful to the service; that honor, l'honneur, is either a\r
+negative concept of not doing what is blameworthy or it is a source of\r
+emulation in pursuit of commendation and rewards, which recognize it.\r
+His arguments were concise, simple, and clear.\r
+\r
+"An institution upholding honor, the source of emulation, is one similar\r
+to the Legion d'honneur of the great Emperor Napoleon, not harmful but\r
+helpful to the success of the service, but not a class or court\r
+privilege."\r
+\r
+"I do not dispute that, but it cannot be denied that court privileges\r
+have attained the same end," returned Prince Andrew. "Every courtier\r
+considers himself bound to maintain his position worthily."\r
+\r
+"Yet you do not care to avail yourself of the privilege, Prince," said\r
+Speranski, indicating by a smile that he wished to finish amiably an\r
+argument which was embarrassing for his companion. "If you will do me\r
+the honor of calling on me on Wednesday," he added, "I will, after\r
+talking with Magnitski, let you know what may interest you, and shall\r
+also have the pleasure of a more detailed chat with you."\r
+\r
+Closing his eyes, he bowed a la francaise, without taking leave, and\r
+trying to attract as little attention as possible, he left the room.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+During the first weeks of his stay in Petersburg Prince Andrew felt the\r
+whole trend of thought he had formed during his life of seclusion quite\r
+overshadowed by the trifling cares that engrossed him in that city.\r
+\r
+On returning home in the evening he would jot down in his notebook four\r
+or five necessary calls or appointments for certain hours. The mechanism\r
+of life, the arrangement of the day so as to be in time everywhere,\r
+absorbed the greater part of his vital energy. He did nothing, did not\r
+even think or find time to think, but only talked, and talked\r
+successfully, of what he had thought while in the country.\r
+\r
+He sometimes noticed with dissatisfaction that he repeated the same\r
+remark on the same day in different circles. But he was so busy for\r
+whole days together that he had no time to notice that he was thinking\r
+of nothing.\r
+\r
+As he had done on their first meeting at Kochubey's, Speranski produced\r
+a strong impression on Prince Andrew on the Wednesday, when he received\r
+him tête-à -tête at his own house and talked to him long and\r
+confidentially.\r
+\r
+To Bolkonski so many people appeared contemptible and insignificant\r
+creatures, and he so longed to find in someone the living ideal of that\r
+perfection toward which he strove, that he readily believed that in\r
+Speranski he had found this ideal of a perfectly rational and virtuous\r
+man. Had Speranski sprung from the same class as himself and possessed\r
+the same breeding and traditions, Bolkonski would soon have discovered\r
+his weak, human, unheroic sides; but as it was, Speranski's strange and\r
+logical turn of mind inspired him with respect all the more because he\r
+did not quite understand him. Moreover, Speranski, either because he\r
+appreciated the other's capacity or because he considered it necessary\r
+to win him to his side, showed off his dispassionate calm reasonableness\r
+before Prince Andrew and flattered him with that subtle flattery which\r
+goes hand in hand with self-assurance and consists in a tacit assumption\r
+that one's companion is the only man besides oneself capable of\r
+understanding the folly of the rest of mankind and the reasonableness\r
+and profundity of one's own ideas.\r
+\r
+During their long conversation on Wednesday evening, Speranski more than\r
+once remarked: "We regard everything that is above the common level of\r
+rooted custom..." or, with a smile: "But we want the wolves to be fed\r
+and the sheep to be safe..." or: "They cannot understand this..." and\r
+all in a way that seemed to say: "We, you and I, understand what they\r
+are and who we are."\r
+\r
+This first long conversation with Speranski only strengthened in Prince\r
+Andrew the feeling he had experienced toward him at their first meeting.\r
+He saw in him a remarkable, clear-thinking man of vast intellect who by\r
+his energy and persistence had attained power, which he was using solely\r
+for the welfare of Russia. In Prince Andrew's eyes Speranski was the man\r
+he would himself have wished to be--one who explained all the facts of\r
+life reasonably, considered important only what was rational, and was\r
+capable of applying the standard of reason to everything. Everything\r
+seemed so simple and clear in Speranski's exposition that Prince Andrew\r
+involuntarily agreed with him about everything. If he replied and\r
+argued, it was only because he wished to maintain his independence and\r
+not submit to Speranski's opinions entirely. Everything was right and\r
+everything was as it should be: only one thing disconcerted Prince\r
+Andrew. This was Speranski's cold, mirrorlike look, which did not allow\r
+one to penetrate to his soul, and his delicate white hands, which Prince\r
+Andrew involuntarily watched as one does watch the hands of those who\r
+possess power. This mirrorlike gaze and those delicate hands irritated\r
+Prince Andrew, he knew not why. He was unpleasantly struck, too, by the\r
+excessive contempt for others that he observed in Speranski, and by the\r
+diversity of lines of argument he used to support his opinions. He made\r
+use of every kind of mental device, except analogy, and passed too\r
+boldly, it seemed to Prince Andrew, from one to another. Now he would\r
+take up the position of a practical man and condemn dreamers; now that\r
+of a satirist, and laugh ironically at his opponents; now grow severely\r
+logical, or suddenly rise to the realm of metaphysics. (This last\r
+resource was one he very frequently employed.) He would transfer a\r
+question to metaphysical heights, pass on to definitions of space, time,\r
+and thought, and, having deduced the refutation he needed, would again\r
+descend to the level of the original discussion.\r
+\r
+In general the trait of Speranski's mentality which struck Prince Andrew\r
+most was his absolute and unshakable belief in the power and authority\r
+of reason. It was evident that the thought could never occur to him\r
+which to Prince Andrew seemed so natural, namely, that it is after all\r
+impossible to express all one thinks; and that he had never felt the\r
+doubt, "Is not all I think and believe nonsense?" And it was just this\r
+peculiarity of Speranski's mind that particularly attracted Prince\r
+Andrew.\r
+\r
+During the first period of their acquaintance Bolkonski felt a\r
+passionate admiration for him similar to that which he had once felt for\r
+Bonaparte. The fact that Speranski was the son of a village priest, and\r
+that stupid people might meanly despise him on account of his humble\r
+origin (as in fact many did), caused Prince Andrew to cherish his\r
+sentiment for him the more, and unconsciously to strengthen it.\r
+\r
+On that first evening Bolkonski spent with him, having mentioned the\r
+Commission for the Revision of the Code of Laws, Speranski told him\r
+sarcastically that the Commission had existed for a hundred and fifty\r
+years, had cost millions, and had done nothing except that Rosenkampf\r
+had stuck labels on the corresponding paragraphs of the different codes.\r
+\r
+"And that is all the state has for the millions it has spent," said he.\r
+"We want to give the Senate new juridical powers, but we have no laws.\r
+That is why it is a sin for men like you, Prince, not to serve in these\r
+times!"\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew said that for that work an education in jurisprudence was\r
+needed which he did not possess.\r
+\r
+"But nobody possesses it, so what would you have? It is a vicious circle\r
+from which we must break a way out."\r
+\r
+A week later Prince Andrew was a member of the Committee on Army\r
+Regulations and--what he had not at all expected--was chairman of a\r
+section of the committee for the revision of the laws. At Speranski's\r
+request he took the first part of the Civil Code that was being drawn up\r
+and, with the aid of the Code Napoleon and the Institutes of Justinian,\r
+he worked at formulating the section on Personal Rights.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+Nearly two years before this, in 1808, Pierre on returning to Petersburg\r
+after visiting his estates had involuntarily found himself in a leading\r
+position among the Petersburg Freemasons. He arranged dining and funeral\r
+lodge meetings, enrolled new members, and busied himself uniting various\r
+lodges and acquiring authentic charters. He gave money for the erection\r
+of temples and supplemented as far as he could the collection of alms,\r
+in regard to which the majority of members were stingy and irregular. He\r
+supported almost singlehanded a poorhouse the order had founded in\r
+Petersburg.\r
+\r
+His life meanwhile continued as before, with the same infatuations and\r
+dissipations. He liked to dine and drink well, and though he considered\r
+it immoral and humiliating could not resist the temptations of the\r
+bachelor circles in which he moved.\r
+\r
+Amid the turmoil of his activities and distractions, however, Pierre at\r
+the end of a year began to feel that the more firmly he tried to rest\r
+upon it, the more masonic ground on which he stood gave way under him.\r
+At the same time he felt that the deeper the ground sank under him the\r
+closer bound he involuntarily became to the order. When he had joined\r
+the Freemasons he had experienced the feeling of one who confidently\r
+steps onto the smooth surface of a bog. When he put his foot down it\r
+sank in. To make quite sure of the firmness of the ground, he put his\r
+other foot down and sank deeper still, became stuck in it, and\r
+involuntarily waded knee-deep in the bog.\r
+\r
+Joseph Alexeevich was not in Petersburg--he had of late stood aside from\r
+the affairs of the Petersburg lodges, and lived almost entirely in\r
+Moscow. All the members of the lodges were men Pierre knew in ordinary\r
+life, and it was difficult for him to regard them merely as Brothers in\r
+Freemasonry and not as Prince B. or Ivan Vasilevich D., whom he knew in\r
+society mostly as weak and insignificant men. Under the masonic aprons\r
+and insignia he saw the uniforms and decorations at which they aimed in\r
+ordinary life. Often after collecting alms, and reckoning up twenty to\r
+thirty rubles received for the most part in promises from a dozen\r
+members, of whom half were as well able to pay as himself, Pierre\r
+remembered the masonic vow in which each Brother promised to devote all\r
+his belongings to his neighbor, and doubts on which he tried not to\r
+dwell arose in his soul.\r
+\r
+He divided the Brothers he knew into four categories. In the first he\r
+put those who did not take an active part in the affairs of the lodges\r
+or in human affairs, but were exclusively occupied with the mystical\r
+science of the order: with questions of the threefold designation of\r
+God, the three primordial elements--sulphur, mercury, and salt--or the\r
+meaning of the square and all the various figures of the temple of\r
+Solomon. Pierre respected this class of Brothers to which the elder ones\r
+chiefly belonged, including, Pierre thought, Joseph Alexeevich himself,\r
+but he did not share their interests. His heart was not in the mystical\r
+aspect of Freemasonry.\r
+\r
+In the second category Pierre reckoned himself and others like him,\r
+seeking and vacillating, who had not yet found in Freemasonry a straight\r
+and comprehensible path, but hoped to do so.\r
+\r
+In the third category he included those Brothers (the majority) who saw\r
+nothing in Freemasonry but the external forms and ceremonies, and prized\r
+the strict performance of these forms without troubling about their\r
+purport or significance. Such were Willarski and even the Grand Master\r
+of the principal lodge.\r
+\r
+Finally, to the fourth category also a great many Brothers belonged,\r
+particularly those who had lately joined. These according to Pierre's\r
+observations were men who had no belief in anything, nor desire for\r
+anything, but joined the Freemasons merely to associate with the wealthy\r
+young Brothers who were influential through their connections or rank,\r
+and of whom there were very many in the lodge.\r
+\r
+Pierre began to feel dissatisfied with what he was doing. Freemasonry,\r
+at any rate as he saw it here, sometimes seemed to him based merely on\r
+externals. He did not think of doubting Freemasonry itself, but\r
+suspected that Russian Masonry had taken a wrong path and deviated from\r
+its original principles. And so toward the end of the year he went\r
+abroad to be initiated into the higher secrets of the order.\r
+\r
+In the summer of 1809 Pierre returned to Petersburg. Our Freemasons knew\r
+from correspondence with those abroad that Bezukhov had obtained the\r
+confidence of many highly placed persons, had been initiated into many\r
+mysteries, had been raised to a higher grade, and was bringing back with\r
+him much that might conduce to the advantage of the masonic cause in\r
+Russia. The Petersburg Freemasons all came to see him, tried to\r
+ingratiate themselves with him, and it seemed to them all that he was\r
+preparing something for them and concealing it.\r
+\r
+A solemn meeting of the lodge of the second degree was convened, at\r
+which Pierre promised to communicate to the Petersburg Brothers what he\r
+had to deliver to them from the highest leaders of their order. The\r
+meeting was a full one. After the usual ceremonies Pierre rose and began\r
+his address.\r
+\r
+"Dear Brothers," he began, blushing and stammering, with a written\r
+speech in his hand, "it is not sufficient to observe our mysteries in\r
+the seclusion of our lodge--we must act--act! We are drowsing, but we\r
+must act." Pierre raised his notebook and began to read.\r
+\r
+"For the dissemination of pure truth and to secure the triumph of\r
+virtue," he read, "we must cleanse men from prejudice, diffuse\r
+principles in harmony with the spirit of the times, undertake the\r
+education of the young, unite ourselves in indissoluble bonds with the\r
+wisest men, boldly yet prudently overcome superstitions, infidelity, and\r
+folly, and form of those devoted to us a body linked together by unity\r
+of purpose and possessed of authority and power.\r
+\r
+"To attain this end we must secure a preponderance of virtue over vice\r
+and must endeavor to secure that the honest man may, even in this world,\r
+receive a lasting reward for his virtue. But in these great endeavors we\r
+are gravely hampered by the political institutions of today. What is to\r
+be done in these circumstances? To favor revolutions, overthrow\r
+everything, repel force by force?... No! We are very far from that.\r
+Every violent reform deserves censure, for it quite fails to remedy evil\r
+while men remain what they are, and also because wisdom needs no\r
+violence.\r
+\r
+"The whole plan of our order should be based on the idea of preparing\r
+men of firmness and virtue bound together by unity of conviction--aiming\r
+at the punishment of vice and folly, and patronizing talent and virtue:\r
+raising worthy men from the dust and attaching them to our Brotherhood.\r
+Only then will our order have the power unobtrusively to bind the hands\r
+of the protectors of disorder and to control them without their being\r
+aware of it. In a word, we must found a form of government holding\r
+universal sway, which should be diffused over the whole world without\r
+destroying the bonds of citizenship, and beside which all other\r
+governments can continue in their customary course and do everything\r
+except what impedes the great aim of our order, which is to obtain for\r
+virtue the victory over vice. This aim was that of Christianity itself.\r
+It taught men to be wise and good and for their own benefit to follow\r
+the example and instruction of the best and wisest men.\r
+\r
+"At that time, when everything was plunged in darkness, preaching alone\r
+was of course sufficient. The novelty of Truth endowed her with special\r
+strength, but now we need much more powerful methods. It is now\r
+necessary that man, governed by his senses, should find in virtue a\r
+charm palpable to those senses. It is impossible to eradicate the\r
+passions; but we must strive to direct them to a noble aim, and it is\r
+therefore necessary that everyone should be able to satisfy his passions\r
+within the limits of virtue. Our order should provide means to that end.\r
+\r
+"As soon as we have a certain number of worthy men in every state, each\r
+of them again training two others and all being closely united,\r
+everything will be possible for our order, which has already in secret\r
+accomplished much for the welfare of mankind."\r
+\r
+This speech not only made a strong impression, but created excitement in\r
+the lodge. The majority of the Brothers, seeing in it dangerous designs\r
+of Illuminism, * met it with a coldness that surprised Pierre. The Grand\r
+Master began answering him, and Pierre began developing his views with\r
+more and more warmth. It was long since there had been so stormy a\r
+meeting. Parties were formed, some accusing Pierre of Illuminism, others\r
+supporting him. At that meeting he was struck for the first time by the\r
+endless variety of men's minds, which prevents a truth from ever\r
+presenting itself identically to two persons. Even those members who\r
+seemed to be on his side understood him in their own way with\r
+limitations and alterations he could not agree to, as what he always\r
+wanted most was to convey his thought to others just as he himself\r
+understood it.\r
+\r
+\r
+* The Illuminati sought to substitute republican for monarchical\r
+institutions.\r
+\r
+At the end of the meeting the Grand Master with irony and ill-will\r
+reproved Bezukhov for his vehemence and said it was not love of virtue\r
+alone, but also a love of strife that had moved him in the dispute.\r
+Pierre did not answer him and asked briefly whether his proposal would\r
+be accepted. He was told that it would not, and without waiting for the\r
+usual formalities he left the lodge and went home.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+Again Pierre was overtaken by the depression he so dreaded. For three\r
+days after the delivery of his speech at the lodge he lay on a sofa at\r
+home receiving no one and going nowhere.\r
+\r
+It was just then that he received a letter from his wife, who implored\r
+him to see her, telling him how grieved she was about him and how she\r
+wished to devote her whole life to him.\r
+\r
+At the end of the letter she informed him that in a few days she would\r
+return to Petersburg from abroad.\r
+\r
+Following this letter one of the masonic Brothers whom Pierre respected\r
+less than the others forced his way in to see him and, turning the\r
+conversation upon Pierre's matrimonial affairs, by way of fraternal\r
+advice expressed the opinion that his severity to his wife was wrong and\r
+that he was neglecting one of the first rules of Freemasonry by not\r
+forgiving the penitent.\r
+\r
+At the same time his mother-in-law, Prince Vasili's wife, sent to him\r
+imploring him to come if only for a few minutes to discuss a most\r
+important matter. Pierre saw that there was a conspiracy against him and\r
+that they wanted to reunite him with his wife, and in the mood he then\r
+was, this was not even unpleasant to him. Nothing mattered to him.\r
+Nothing in life seemed to him of much importance, and under the\r
+influence of the depression that possessed him he valued neither his\r
+liberty nor his resolution to punish his wife.\r
+\r
+"No one is right and no one is to blame; so she too is not to blame," he\r
+thought.\r
+\r
+If he did not at once give his consent to a reunion with his wife, it\r
+was only because in his state of depression he did not feel able to take\r
+any step. Had his wife come to him, he would not have turned her away.\r
+Compared to what preoccupied him, was it not a matter of indifference\r
+whether he lived with his wife or not?\r
+\r
+Without replying either to his wife or his mother-in-law, Pierre late\r
+one night prepared for a journey and started for Moscow to see Joseph\r
+Alexeevich. This is what he noted in his diary:\r
+\r
+Moscow, 17th November\r
+\r
+I have just returned from my benefactor, and hasten to write down what I\r
+have experienced. Joseph Alexeevich is living poorly and has for three\r
+years been suffering from a painful disease of the bladder. No one has\r
+ever heard him utter a groan or a word of complaint. From morning till\r
+late at night, except when he eats his very plain food, he is working at\r
+science. He received me graciously and made me sit down on the bed on\r
+which he lay. I made the sign of the Knights of the East and of\r
+Jerusalem, and he responded in the same manner, asking me with a mild\r
+smile what I had learned and gained in the Prussian and Scottish lodges.\r
+I told him everything as best I could, and told him what I had proposed\r
+to our Petersburg lodge, of the bad reception I had encountered, and of\r
+my rupture with the Brothers. Joseph Alexeevich, having remained silent\r
+and thoughtful for a good while, told me his view of the matter, which\r
+at once lit up for me my whole past and the future path I should follow.\r
+He surprised me by asking whether I remembered the threefold aim of the\r
+order: (1) The preservation and study of the mystery. (2) The\r
+purification and reformation of oneself for its reception, and (3) The\r
+improvement of the human race by striving for such purification. Which\r
+is the principal aim of these three? Certainly self-reformation and\r
+self-purification. Only to this aim can we always strive independently\r
+of circumstances. But at the same time just this aim demands the\r
+greatest efforts of us; and so, led astray by pride, losing sight of\r
+this aim, we occupy ourselves either with the mystery which in our\r
+impurity we are unworthy to receive, or seek the reformation of the\r
+human race while ourselves setting an example of baseness and\r
+profligacy. Illuminism is not a pure doctrine, just because it is\r
+attracted by social activity and puffed up by pride. On this ground\r
+Joseph Alexeevich condemned my speech and my whole activity, and in the\r
+depth of my soul I agreed with him. Talking of my family affairs he said\r
+to me, "the chief duty of a true Mason, as I have told you, lies in\r
+perfecting himself. We often think that by removing all the difficulties\r
+of our life we shall more quickly reach our aim, but on the contrary, my\r
+dear sir, it is only in the midst of worldly cares that we can attain\r
+our three chief aims: (1) Self-knowledge--for man can only know himself\r
+by comparison, (2) Self-perfecting, which can only be attained by\r
+conflict, and (3) The attainment of the chief virtue--love of death.\r
+Only the vicissitudes of life can show us its vanity and develop our\r
+innate love of death or of rebirth to a new life." These words are all\r
+the more remarkable because, in spite of his great physical sufferings,\r
+Joseph Alexeevich is never weary of life though he loves death, for\r
+which--in spite of the purity and loftiness of his inner man--he does\r
+not yet feel himself sufficiently prepared. My benefactor then explained\r
+to me fully the meaning of the Great Square of creation and pointed out\r
+to me that the numbers three and seven are the basis of everything. He\r
+advised me not to avoid intercourse with the Petersburg Brothers, but to\r
+take up only second-grade posts in the lodge, to try, while diverting\r
+the Brothers from pride, to turn them toward the true path self-\r
+knowledge and self-perfecting. Besides this he advised me for myself\r
+personally above all to keep a watch over myself, and to that end he\r
+gave me a notebook, the one I am now writing in and in which I will in\r
+future note down all my actions.\r
+\r
+Petersburg, 23rd November\r
+\r
+I am again living with my wife. My mother-in-law came to me in tears and\r
+said that Helene was here and that she implored me to hear her; that she\r
+was innocent and unhappy at my desertion, and much more. I knew that if\r
+I once let myself see her I should not have strength to go on refusing\r
+what she wanted. In my perplexity I did not know whose aid and advice to\r
+seek. Had my benefactor been here he would have told me what to do. I\r
+went to my room and reread Joseph Alexeevich's letters and recalled my\r
+conversations with him, and deduced from it all that I ought not to\r
+refuse a supplicant, and ought to reach a helping hand to everyone--\r
+especially to one so closely bound to me--and that I must bear my cross.\r
+But if I forgive her for the sake of doing right, then let union with\r
+her have only a spiritual aim. That is what I decided, and what I wrote\r
+to Joseph Alexeevich. I told my wife that I begged her to forget the\r
+past, to forgive me whatever wrong I may have done her, and that I had\r
+nothing to forgive. It gave me joy to tell her this. She need not know\r
+how hard it was for me to see her again. I have settled on the upper\r
+floor of this big house and am experiencing a happy feeling of\r
+regeneration.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+At that time, as always happens, the highest society that met at court\r
+and at the grand balls was divided into several circles, each with its\r
+own particular tone. The largest of these was the French circle of the\r
+Napoleonic alliance, the circle of Count Rumyantsev and Caulaincourt. In\r
+this group Helene, as soon as she had settled in Petersburg with her\r
+husband, took a very prominent place. She was visited by the members of\r
+the French embassy and by many belonging to that circle and noted for\r
+their intellect and polished manners.\r
+\r
+Helene had been at Erfurt during the famous meeting of the Emperors and\r
+had brought from there these connections with the Napoleonic\r
+notabilities. At Erfurt her success had been brilliant. Napoleon himself\r
+had noticed her in the theater and said of her: "C'est un superbe\r
+animal." * Her success as a beautiful and elegant woman did not surprise\r
+Pierre, for she had become even handsomer than before. What did surprise\r
+him was that during these last two years his wife had succeeded in\r
+gaining the reputation "d' une femme charmante, aussi spirituelle que\r
+belle." *(2) The distinguished Prince de Ligne wrote her eight-page\r
+letters. Bilibin saved up his epigrams to produce them in Countess\r
+Bezukhova's presence. To be received in the Countess Bezukhova's salon\r
+was regarded as a diploma of intellect. Young men read books before\r
+attending Helene's evenings, to have something to say in her salon, and\r
+secretaries of the embassy, and even ambassadors, confided diplomatic\r
+secrets to her, so that in a way Helene was a power. Pierre, who knew\r
+she was very stupid, sometimes attended, with a strange feeling of\r
+perplexity and fear, her evenings and dinner parties, where politics,\r
+poetry, and philosophy were discussed. At these parties his feelings\r
+were like those of a conjuror who always expects his trick to be found\r
+out at any moment. But whether because stupidity was just what was\r
+needed to run such a salon, or because those who were deceived found\r
+pleasure in the deception, at any rate it remained unexposed and Helene\r
+Bezukhova's reputation as a lovely and clever woman became so firmly\r
+established that she could say the emptiest and stupidest things and\r
+everybody would go into raptures over every word of hers and look for a\r
+profound meaning in it of which she herself had no conception.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "That's a superb animal."\r
+\r
+* (2) "Of a charming woman, as witty as she is lovely."\r
+\r
+Pierre was just the husband needed for a brilliant society woman. He was\r
+that absent-minded crank, a grand seigneur husband who was in no one's\r
+way, and far from spoiling the high tone and general impression of the\r
+drawing room, he served, by the contrast he presented to her, as an\r
+advantageous background to his elegant and tactful wife. Pierre during\r
+the last two years, as a result of his continual absorption in abstract\r
+interests and his sincere contempt for all else, had acquired in his\r
+wife's circle, which did not interest him, that air of unconcern,\r
+indifference, and benevolence toward all, which cannot be acquired\r
+artificially and therefore inspires involuntary respect. He entered his\r
+wife's drawing room as one enters a theater, was acquainted with\r
+everybody, equally pleased to see everyone, and equally indifferent to\r
+them all. Sometimes he joined in a conversation which interested him\r
+and, regardless of whether any "gentlemen of the embassy" were present\r
+or not, lispingly expressed his views, which were sometimes not at all\r
+in accord with the accepted tone of the moment. But the general opinion\r
+concerning the queer husband of "the most distinguished woman in\r
+Petersburg" was so well established that no one took his freaks\r
+seriously.\r
+\r
+Among the many young men who frequented her house every day, Boris\r
+Drubetskoy, who had already achieved great success in the service, was\r
+the most intimate friend of the Bezukhov household since Helene's return\r
+from Erfurt. Helene spoke of him as "mon page" and treated him like a\r
+child. Her smile for him was the same as for everybody, but sometimes\r
+that smile made Pierre uncomfortable. Toward him Boris behaved with a\r
+particularly dignified and sad deference. This shade of deference also\r
+disturbed Pierre. He had suffered so painfully three years before from\r
+the mortification to which his wife had subjected him that he now\r
+protected himself from the danger of its repetition, first by not being\r
+a husband to his wife, and secondly by not allowing himself to suspect.\r
+\r
+"No, now that she has become a bluestocking she has finally renounced\r
+her former infatuations," he told himself. "There has never been an\r
+instance of a bluestocking being carried away by affairs of the heart"--\r
+a statement which, though gathered from an unknown source, he believed\r
+implicitly. Yet strange to say Boris' presence in his wife's drawing\r
+room (and he was almost always there) had a physical effect upon Pierre;\r
+it constricted his limbs and destroyed the unconsciousness and freedom\r
+of his movements.\r
+\r
+"What a strange antipathy," thought Pierre, "yet I used to like him very\r
+much."\r
+\r
+In the eyes of the world Pierre was a great gentleman, the rather blind\r
+and absurd husband of a distinguished wife, a clever crank who did\r
+nothing but harmed nobody and was a first-rate, good-natured fellow. But\r
+a complex and difficult process of internal development was taking place\r
+all this time in Pierre's soul, revealing much to him and causing him\r
+many spiritual doubts and joys.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+Pierre went on with his diary, and this is what he wrote in it during\r
+that time:\r
+\r
+24th November\r
+\r
+Got up at eight, read the Scriptures, then went to my duties. (By Joseph\r
+Alexeevich's advice Pierre had entered the service of the state and\r
+served on one of the committees.) Returned home for dinner and dined\r
+alone--the countess had many visitors I do not like. I ate and drank\r
+moderately and after dinner copied out some passages for the Brothers.\r
+In the evening I went down to the countess and told a funny story about\r
+B., and only remembered that I ought not to have done so when everybody\r
+laughed loudly at it.\r
+\r
+I am going to bed with a happy and tranquil mind. Great God, help me to\r
+walk in Thy paths, (1) to conquer anger by calmness and deliberation,\r
+(2) to vanquish lust by self-restraint and repulsion, (3) to withdraw\r
+from worldliness, but not avoid (a) the service of the state, (b) family\r
+duties, (c) relations with my friends, and the management of my affairs.\r
+\r
+27th November\r
+\r
+I got up late. On waking I lay long in bed yielding to sloth. O God,\r
+help and strengthen me that I may walk in Thy ways! Read the Scriptures,\r
+but without proper feeling. Brother Urusov came and we talked about\r
+worldly vanities. He told me of the Emperor's new projects. I began to\r
+criticize them, but remembered my rules and my benefactor's words--that\r
+a true Freemason should be a zealous worker for the state when his aid\r
+is required and a quiet onlooker when not called on to assist. My tongue\r
+is my enemy. Brothers G. V. and O. visited me and we had a preliminary\r
+talk about the reception of a new Brother. They laid on me the duty of\r
+Rhetor. I feel myself weak and unworthy. Then our talk turned to the\r
+interpretation of the seven pillars and steps of the Temple, the seven\r
+sciences, the seven virtues, the seven vices, and the seven gifts of the\r
+Holy Spirit. Brother O. was very eloquent. In the evening the admission\r
+took place. The new decoration of the Premises contributed much to the\r
+magnificence of the spectacle. It was Boris Drubetskoy who was admitted.\r
+I nominated him and was the Rhetor. A strange feeling agitated me all\r
+the time I was alone with him in the dark chamber. I caught myself\r
+harboring a feeling of hatred toward him which I vainly tried to\r
+overcome. That is why I should really like to save him from evil and\r
+lead him into the path of truth, but evil thoughts of him did not leave\r
+me. It seemed to me that his object in entering the Brotherhood was\r
+merely to be intimate and in favor with members of our lodge. Apart from\r
+the fact that he had asked me several times whether N. and S. were\r
+members of our lodge (a question to which I could not reply) and that\r
+according to my observation he is incapable of feeling respect for our\r
+holy order and is too preoccupied and satisfied with the outer man to\r
+desire spiritual improvement, I had no cause to doubt him, but he seemed\r
+to me insincere, and all the time I stood alone with him in the dark\r
+temple it seemed to me that he was smiling contemptuously at my words,\r
+and I wished really to stab his bare breast with the sword I held to it.\r
+I could not be eloquent, nor could I frankly mention my doubts to the\r
+Brothers and to the Grand Master. Great Architect of Nature, help me to\r
+find the true path out of the labyrinth of lies!\r
+\r
+\r
+After this, three pages were left blank in the diary, and then the\r
+following was written:\r
+\r
+I have had a long and instructive talk alone with Brother V., who\r
+advised me to hold fast by Brother A. Though I am unworthy, much was\r
+revealed to me. Adonai is the name of the creator of the world. Elohim\r
+is the name of the ruler of all. The third name is the name unutterable\r
+which means the All. Talks with Brother V. strengthen, refresh, and\r
+support me in the path of virtue. In his presence doubt has no place.\r
+The distinction between the poor teachings of mundane science and our\r
+sacred all-embracing teaching is clear to me. Human sciences dissect\r
+everything to comprehend it, and kill everything to examine it. In the\r
+holy science of our order all is one, all is known in its entirety and\r
+life. The Trinity--the three elements of matter--are sulphur, mercury,\r
+and salt. Sulphur is of an oily and fiery nature; in combination with\r
+salt by its fiery nature it arouses a desire in the latter by means of\r
+which it attracts mercury, seizes it, holds it, and in combination\r
+produces other bodies. Mercury is a fluid, volatile, spiritual essence.\r
+Christ, the Holy Spirit, Him!...\r
+\r
+3rd December\r
+\r
+Awoke late, read the Scriptures but was apathetic. Afterwards went and\r
+paced up and down the large hall. I wished to meditate, but instead my\r
+imagination pictured an occurrence of four years ago, when Dolokhov,\r
+meeting me in Moscow after our duel, said he hoped I was enjoying\r
+perfect peace of mind in spite of my wife's absence. At the time I gave\r
+him no answer. Now I recalled every detail of that meeting and in my\r
+mind gave him the most malevolent and bitter replies. I recollected\r
+myself and drove away that thought only when I found myself glowing with\r
+anger, but I did not sufficiently repent. Afterwards Boris Drubetskoy\r
+came and began relating various adventures. His coming vexed me from the\r
+first, and I said something disagreeable to him. He replied. I flared up\r
+and said much that was unpleasant and even rude to him. He became\r
+silent, and I recollected myself only when it was too late. My God, I\r
+cannot get on with him at all. The cause of this is my egotism. I set\r
+myself above him and so become much worse than he, for he is lenient to\r
+my rudeness while I on the contrary nourish contempt for him. O God,\r
+grant that in his presence I may rather see my own vileness, and behave\r
+so that he too may benefit. After dinner I fell asleep and as I was\r
+drowsing off I clearly heard a voice saying in my left ear, "Thy day!"\r
+\r
+I dreamed that I was walking in the dark and was suddenly surrounded by\r
+dogs, but I went on undismayed. Suddenly a smallish dog seized my left\r
+thigh with its teeth and would not let go. I began to throttle it with\r
+my hands. Scarcely had I torn it off before another, a bigger one, began\r
+biting me. I lifted it up, but the higher I lifted it the bigger and\r
+heavier it grew. And suddenly Brother A. came and, taking my arm, led me\r
+to a building to enter which we had to pass along a narrow plank. I\r
+stepped on it, but it bent and gave way and I began to clamber up a\r
+fence which I could scarcely reach with my hands. After much effort I\r
+dragged myself up, so that my leg hung down on one side and my body on\r
+the other. I looked round and saw Brother A. standing on the fence and\r
+pointing me to a broad avenue and garden, and in the garden was a large\r
+and beautiful building. I woke up. O Lord, great Architect of Nature,\r
+help me to tear from myself these dogs--my passions especially the last,\r
+which unites in itself the strength of all the former ones, and aid me\r
+to enter that temple of virtue to a vision of which I attained in my\r
+dream.\r
+\r
+7th December\r
+\r
+I dreamed that Joseph Alexeevich was sitting in my house, and that I was\r
+very glad and wished to entertain him. It seemed as if I chattered\r
+incessantly with other people and suddenly remembered that this could\r
+not please him, and I wished to come close to him and embrace him. But\r
+as soon as I drew near I saw that his face had changed and grown young,\r
+and he was quietly telling me something about the teaching of our order,\r
+but so softly that I could not hear it. Then it seemed that we all left\r
+the room and something strange happened. We were sitting or lying on the\r
+floor. He was telling me something, and I wished to show him my\r
+sensibility, and not listening to what he was saying I began picturing\r
+to myself the condition of my inner man and the grace of God sanctifying\r
+me. And tears came into my eyes, and I was glad he noticed this. But he\r
+looked at me with vexation and jumped up, breaking off his remarks. I\r
+felt abashed and asked whether what he had been saying did not concern\r
+me; but he did not reply, gave me a kind look, and then we suddenly\r
+found ourselves in my bedroom where there is a double bed. He lay down\r
+on the edge of it and I burned with longing to caress him and lie down\r
+too. And he said, "Tell me frankly what is your chief temptation? Do you\r
+know it? I think you know it already." Abashed by this question, I\r
+replied that sloth was my chief temptation. He shook his head\r
+incredulously; and even more abashed, I said that though I was living\r
+with my wife as he advised, I was not living with her as her husband. To\r
+this he replied that one should not deprive a wife of one's embraces and\r
+gave me to understand that that was my duty. But I replied that I should\r
+be ashamed to do it, and suddenly everything vanished. And I awoke and\r
+found in my mind the text from the Gospel: "The life was the light of\r
+men. And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it\r
+not." Joseph Alexeevich's face had looked young and bright. That day I\r
+received a letter from my benefactor in which he wrote about "conjugal\r
+duties."\r
+\r
+9th December\r
+\r
+I had a dream from which I awoke with a throbbing heart. I saw that I\r
+was in Moscow in my house, in the big sitting room, and Joseph\r
+Alexeevich came in from the drawing room. I seemed to know at once that\r
+the process of regeneration had already taken place in him, and I rushed\r
+to meet him. I embraced him and kissed his hands, and he said, "Hast\r
+thou noticed that my face is different?" I looked at him, still holding\r
+him in my arms, and saw that his face was young, but that he had no hair\r
+on his head and his features were quite changed. And I said, "I should\r
+have known you had I met you by chance," and I thought to myself, "Am I\r
+telling the truth?" And suddenly I saw him lying like a dead body; then\r
+he gradually recovered and went with me into my study carrying a large\r
+book of sheets of drawing paper; I said, "I drew that," and he answered\r
+by bowing his head. I opened the book, and on all the pages there were\r
+excellent drawings. And in my dream I knew that these drawings\r
+represented the love adventures of the soul with its beloved. And on its\r
+pages I saw a beautiful representation of a maiden in transparent\r
+garments and with a transparent body, flying up to the clouds. And I\r
+seemed to know that this maiden was nothing else than a representation\r
+of the Song of Songs. And looking at those drawings I dreamed I felt\r
+that I was doing wrong, but could not tear myself away from them. Lord,\r
+help me! My God, if Thy forsaking me is Thy doing, Thy will be done; but\r
+if I am myself the cause, teach me what I should do! I shall perish of\r
+my debauchery if Thou utterly desertest me!\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+The Rostovs' monetary affairs had not improved during the two years they\r
+had spent in the country.\r
+\r
+Though Nicholas Rostov had kept firmly to his resolution and was still\r
+serving modestly in an obscure regiment, spending comparatively little,\r
+the way of life at Otradnoe--Mitenka's management of affairs, in\r
+particular--was such that the debts inevitably increased every year. The\r
+only resource obviously presenting itself to the old count was to apply\r
+for an official post, so he had come to Petersburg to look for one and\r
+also, as he said, to let the lassies enjoy themselves for the last time.\r
+\r
+Soon after their arrival in Petersburg Berg proposed to Vera and was\r
+accepted.\r
+\r
+Though in Moscow the Rostovs belonged to the best society without\r
+themselves giving it a thought, yet in Petersburg their circle of\r
+acquaintances was a mixed and indefinite one. In Petersburg they were\r
+provincials, and the very people they had entertained in Moscow without\r
+inquiring to what set they belonged, here looked down on them.\r
+\r
+The Rostovs lived in the same hospitable way in Petersburg as in Moscow,\r
+and the most diverse people met at their suppers. Country neighbors from\r
+Otradnoe, impoverished old squires and their daughters, Peronskaya a\r
+maid of honor, Pierre Bezukhov, and the son of their district postmaster\r
+who had obtained a post in Petersburg. Among the men who very soon\r
+became frequent visitors at the Rostovs' house in Petersburg were Boris,\r
+Pierre whom the count had met in the street and dragged home with him,\r
+and Berg who spent whole days at the Rostovs' and paid the eldest\r
+daughter, Countess Vera, the attentions a young man pays when he intends\r
+to propose.\r
+\r
+Not in vain had Berg shown everybody his right hand wounded at\r
+Austerlitz and held a perfectly unnecessary sword in his left. He\r
+narrated that episode so persistently and with so important an air that\r
+everyone believed in the merit and usefulness of his deed, and he had\r
+obtained two decorations for Austerlitz.\r
+\r
+In the Finnish war he also managed to distinguish himself. He had picked\r
+up the scrap of a grenade that had killed an aide-de-camp standing near\r
+the commander-in-chief and had taken it to his commander. Just as he had\r
+done after Austerlitz, he related this occurrence at such length and so\r
+insistently that everyone again believed it had been necessary to do\r
+this, and he received two decorations for the Finnish war also. In 1809\r
+he was a captain in the Guards, wore medals, and held some special\r
+lucrative posts in Petersburg.\r
+\r
+Though some skeptics smiled when told of Berg's merits, it could not be\r
+denied that he was a painstaking and brave officer, on excellent terms\r
+with his superiors, and a moral young man with a brilliant career before\r
+him and an assured position in society.\r
+\r
+Four years before, meeting a German comrade in the stalls of a Moscow\r
+theater, Berg had pointed out Vera Rostova to him and had said in\r
+German, "das soll mein Weib werden," * and from that moment had made up\r
+his mind to marry her. Now in Petersburg, having considered the Rostovs'\r
+position and his own, he decided that the time had come to propose.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "That girl shall be my wife."\r
+\r
+Berg's proposal was at first received with a perplexity that was not\r
+flattering to him. At first it seemed strange that the son of an obscure\r
+Livonian gentleman should propose marriage to a Countess Rostova; but\r
+Berg's chief characteristic was such a naive and good natured egotism\r
+that the Rostovs involuntarily came to think it would be a good thing,\r
+since he himself was so firmly convinced that it was good, indeed\r
+excellent. Moreover, the Rostovs' affairs were seriously embarrassed, as\r
+the suitor could not but know; and above all, Vera was twenty-four, had\r
+been taken out everywhere, and though she was certainly good-looking and\r
+sensible, no one up to now had proposed to her. So they gave their\r
+consent.\r
+\r
+"You see," said Berg to his comrade, whom he called "friend" only\r
+because he knew that everyone has friends, "you see, I have considered\r
+it all, and should not marry if I had not thought it all out or if it\r
+were in any way unsuitable. But on the contrary, my papa and mamma are\r
+now provided for--I have arranged that rent for them in the Baltic\r
+Provinces--and I can live in Petersburg on my pay, and with her fortune\r
+and my good management we can get along nicely. I am not marrying for\r
+money--I consider that dishonorable--but a wife should bring her share\r
+and a husband his. I have my position in the service, she has\r
+connections and some means. In our times that is worth something, isn't\r
+it? But above all, she is a handsome, estimable girl, and she loves\r
+me..."\r
+\r
+Berg blushed and smiled.\r
+\r
+"And I love her, because her character is sensible and very good. Now\r
+the other sister, though they are the same family, is quite different--\r
+an unpleasant character and has not the same intelligence. She is so...\r
+you know?... Unpleasant... But my fiancee!... Well, you will be coming,"\r
+he was going to say, "to dine," but changed his mind and said "to take\r
+tea with us," and quickly doubling up his tongue he blew a small round\r
+ring of tobacco smoke, perfectly embodying his dream of happiness.\r
+\r
+After the first feeling of perplexity aroused in the parents by Berg's\r
+proposal, the holiday tone of joyousness usual at such times took\r
+possession of the family, but the rejoicing was external and insincere.\r
+In the family's feeling toward this wedding a certain awkwardness and\r
+constraint was evident, as if they were ashamed of not having loved Vera\r
+sufficiently and of being so ready to get her off their hands. The old\r
+count felt this most. He would probably have been unable to state the\r
+cause of his embarrassment, but it resulted from the state of his\r
+affairs. He did not know at all how much he had, what his debts amounted\r
+to, or what dowry he could give Vera. When his daughters were born he\r
+had assigned to each of them, for her dowry, an estate with three\r
+hundred serfs; but one of these estates had already been sold, and the\r
+other was mortgaged and the interest so much in arrears that it would\r
+have to be sold, so that it was impossible to give it to Vera. Nor had\r
+he any money.\r
+\r
+Berg had already been engaged a month, and only a week remained before\r
+the wedding, but the count had not yet decided in his own mind the\r
+question of the dowry, nor spoken to his wife about it. At one time the\r
+count thought of giving her the Ryazan estate or of selling a forest, at\r
+another time of borrowing money on a note of hand. A few days before the\r
+wedding Berg entered the count's study early one morning and, with a\r
+pleasant smile, respectfully asked his future father-in-law to let him\r
+know what Vera's dowry would be. The count was so disconcerted by this\r
+long-foreseen inquiry that without consideration he gave the first reply\r
+that came into his head. "I like your being businesslike about it.... I\r
+like it. You shall be satisfied...."\r
+\r
+And patting Berg on the shoulder he got up, wishing to end the\r
+conversation. But Berg, smiling pleasantly, explained that if he did not\r
+know for certain how much Vera would have and did not receive at least\r
+part of the dowry in advance, he would have to break matters off.\r
+\r
+"Because, consider, Count--if I allowed myself to marry now without\r
+having definite means to maintain my wife, I should be acting badly...."\r
+\r
+The conversation ended by the count, who wished to be generous and to\r
+avoid further importunity, saying that he would give a note of hand for\r
+eighty thousand rubles. Berg smiled meekly, kissed the count on the\r
+shoulder, and said that he was very grateful, but that it was impossible\r
+for him to arrange his new life without receiving thirty thousand in\r
+ready money. "Or at least twenty thousand, Count," he added, "and then a\r
+note of hand for only sixty thousand."\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes, all right!" said the count hurriedly. "Only excuse me, my\r
+dear fellow, I'll give you twenty thousand and a note of hand for eighty\r
+thousand as well. Yes, yes! Kiss me."\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+Natasha was sixteen and it was the year 1809, the very year to which she\r
+had counted on her fingers with Boris after they had kissed four years\r
+ago. Since then she had not seen him. Before Sonya and her mother, if\r
+Boris happened to be mentioned, she spoke quite freely of that episode\r
+as of some childish, long-forgotten matter that was not worth\r
+mentioning. But in the secret depths of her soul the question whether\r
+her engagement to Boris was a jest or an important, binding promise\r
+tormented her.\r
+\r
+Since Boris left Moscow in 1805 to join the army he had not seen the\r
+Rostovs. He had been in Moscow several times, and had passed near\r
+Otradnoe, but had never been to see them.\r
+\r
+Sometimes it occurred to Natasha that he did not wish to see her, and\r
+this conjecture was confirmed by the sad tone in which her elders spoke\r
+of him.\r
+\r
+"Nowadays old friends are not remembered," the countess would say when\r
+Boris was mentioned.\r
+\r
+Anna Mikhaylovna also had of late visited them less frequently, seemed\r
+to hold herself with particular dignity, and always spoke rapturously\r
+and gratefully of the merits of her son and the brilliant career on\r
+which he had entered. When the Rostovs came to Petersburg Boris called\r
+on them.\r
+\r
+He drove to their house in some agitation. The memory of Natasha was his\r
+most poetic recollection. But he went with the firm intention of letting\r
+her and her parents feel that the childish relations between himself and\r
+Natasha could not be binding either on her or on him. He had a brilliant\r
+position in society thanks to his intimacy with Countess Bezukhova, a\r
+brilliant position in the service thanks to the patronage of an\r
+important personage whose complete confidence he enjoyed, and he was\r
+beginning to make plans for marrying one of the richest heiresses in\r
+Petersburg, plans which might very easily be realized. When he entered\r
+the Rostovs' drawing room Natasha was in her own room. When she heard of\r
+his arrival she almost ran into the drawing room, flushed and beaming\r
+with a more than cordial smile.\r
+\r
+Boris remembered Natasha in a short dress, with dark eyes shining from\r
+under her curls and boisterous, childish laughter, as he had known her\r
+four years before; and so he was taken aback when quite a different\r
+Natasha entered, and his face expressed rapturous astonishment. This\r
+expression on his face pleased Natasha.\r
+\r
+"Well, do you recognize your little madcap playmate?" asked the\r
+countess.\r
+\r
+Boris kissed Natasha's hand and said that he was astonished at the\r
+change in her.\r
+\r
+"How handsome you have grown!"\r
+\r
+"I should think so!" replied Natasha's laughing eyes.\r
+\r
+"And is Papa older?" she asked.\r
+\r
+Natasha sat down and, without joining in Boris' conversation with the\r
+countess, silently and minutely studied her childhood's suitor. He felt\r
+the weight of that resolute and affectionate scrutiny and glanced at her\r
+occasionally.\r
+\r
+Boris' uniform, spurs, tie, and the way his hair was brushed were all\r
+comme il faut and in the latest fashion. This Natasha noticed at once.\r
+He sat rather sideways in the armchair next to the countess, arranging\r
+with his right hand the cleanest of gloves that fitted his left hand\r
+like a skin, and he spoke with a particularly refined compression of his\r
+lips about the amusements of the highest Petersburg society, recalling\r
+with mild irony old times in Moscow and Moscow acquaintances. It was not\r
+accidentally, Natasha felt, that he alluded, when speaking of the\r
+highest aristocracy, to an ambassador's ball he had attended, and to\r
+invitations he had received from N.N. and S.S.\r
+\r
+All this time Natasha sat silent, glancing up at him from under her\r
+brows. This gaze disturbed and confused Boris more and more. He looked\r
+round more frequently toward her, and broke off in what he was saying.\r
+He did not stay more than ten minutes, then rose and took his leave. The\r
+same inquisitive, challenging, and rather mocking eyes still looked at\r
+him. After his first visit Boris said to himself that Natasha attracted\r
+him just as much as ever, but that he must not yield to that feeling,\r
+because to marry her, a girl almost without fortune, would mean ruin to\r
+his career, while to renew their former relations without intending to\r
+marry her would be dishonorable. Boris made up his mind to avoid meeting\r
+Natasha, but despite that resolution he called again a few days later\r
+and began calling often and spending whole days at the Rostovs'. It\r
+seemed to him that he ought to have an explanation with Natasha and tell\r
+her that the old times must be forgotten, that in spite of everything...\r
+she could not be his wife, that he had no means, and they would never\r
+let her marry him. But he failed to do so and felt awkward about\r
+entering on such an explanation. From day to day he became more and more\r
+entangled. It seemed to her mother and Sonya that Natasha was in love\r
+with Boris as of old. She sang him his favorite songs, showed him her\r
+album, making him write in it, did not allow him to allude to the past,\r
+letting it be understood how delightful was the present; and every day\r
+he went away in a fog, without having said what he meant to, and not\r
+knowing what he was doing or why he came, or how it would all end. He\r
+left off visiting Helene and received reproachful notes from her every\r
+day, and yet he continued to spend whole days with the Rostovs.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIII\r
+\r
+One night when the old countess, in nightcap and dressing jacket,\r
+without her false curls, and with her poor little knob of hair showing\r
+under her white cotton cap, knelt sighing and groaning on a rug and\r
+bowing to the ground in prayer, her door creaked and Natasha, also in a\r
+dressing jacket with slippers on her bare feet and her hair in\r
+curlpapers, ran in. The countess--her prayerful mood dispelled--looked\r
+round and frowned. She was finishing her last prayer: "Can it be that\r
+this couch will be my grave?" Natasha, flushed and eager, seeing her\r
+mother in prayer, suddenly checked her rush, half sat down, and\r
+unconsciously put out her tongue as if chiding herself. Seeing that her\r
+mother was still praying she ran on tiptoe to the bed and, rapidly\r
+slipping one little foot against the other, pushed off her slippers and\r
+jumped onto the bed the countess had feared might become her grave. This\r
+couch was high, with a feather bed and five pillows each smaller than\r
+the one below. Natasha jumped on it, sank into the feather bed, rolled\r
+over to the wall, and began snuggling up the bedclothes as she settled\r
+down, raising her knees to her chin, kicking out and laughing almost\r
+inaudibly, now covering herself up head and all, and now peeping at her\r
+mother. The countess finished her prayers and came to the bed with a\r
+stern face, but seeing, that Natasha's head was covered, she smiled in\r
+her kind, weak way.\r
+\r
+"Now then, now then!" said she.\r
+\r
+"Mamma, can we have a talk? Yes?" said Natasha. "Now, just one on your\r
+throat and another... that'll do!" And seizing her mother round the\r
+neck, she kissed her on the throat. In her behavior to her mother\r
+Natasha seemed rough, but she was so sensitive and tactful that however\r
+she clasped her mother she always managed to do it without hurting her\r
+or making her feel uncomfortable or displeased.\r
+\r
+"Well, what is it tonight?" said the mother, having arranged her pillows\r
+and waited until Natasha, after turning over a couple of times, had\r
+settled down beside her under the quilt, spread out her arms, and\r
+assumed a serious expression.\r
+\r
+These visits of Natasha's at night before the count returned from his\r
+club were one of the greatest pleasures of both mother, and daughter.\r
+\r
+"What is it tonight?--But I have to tell you..."\r
+\r
+Natasha put her hand on her mother's mouth.\r
+\r
+"About Boris... I know," she said seriously; "that's what I have come\r
+about. Don't say it--I know. No, do tell me!" and she removed her hand.\r
+"Tell me, Mamma! He's nice?"\r
+\r
+"Natasha, you are sixteen. At your age I was married. You say Boris is\r
+nice. He is very nice, and I love him like a son. But what then?... What\r
+are you thinking about? You have quite turned his head, I can see\r
+that...."\r
+\r
+As she said this the countess looked round at her daughter. Natasha was\r
+lying looking steadily straight before her at one of the mahogany\r
+sphinxes carved on the corners of the bedstead, so that the countess\r
+only saw her daughter's face in profile. That face struck her by its\r
+peculiarly serious and concentrated expression.\r
+\r
+Natasha was listening and considering.\r
+\r
+"Well, what then?" said she.\r
+\r
+"You have quite turned his head, and why? What do you want of him? You\r
+know you can't marry him."\r
+\r
+"Why not?" said Natasha, without changing her position.\r
+\r
+"Because he is young, because he is poor, because he is a relation...\r
+and because you yourself don't love him."\r
+\r
+"How do you know?"\r
+\r
+"I know. It is not right, darling!"\r
+\r
+\r
+"But if I want to..." said Natasha.\r
+\r
+"Leave off talking nonsense," said the countess.\r
+\r
+"But if I want to..."\r
+\r
+"Natasha, I am in earnest..."\r
+\r
+Natasha did not let her finish. She drew the countess' large hand to\r
+her, kissed it on the back and then on the palm, then again turned it\r
+over and began kissing first one knuckle, then the space between the\r
+knuckles, then the next knuckle, whispering, "January, February, March,\r
+April, May. Speak, Mamma, why don't you say anything? Speak!" said she,\r
+turning to her mother, who was tenderly gazing at her daughter and in\r
+that contemplation seemed to have forgotten all she had wished to say.\r
+\r
+"It won't do, my love! Not everyone will understand this friendship\r
+dating from your childish days, and to see him so intimate with you may\r
+injure you in the eyes of other young men who visit us, and above all it\r
+torments him for nothing. He may already have found a suitable and\r
+wealthy match, and now he's half crazy."\r
+\r
+"Crazy?" repeated Natasha.\r
+\r
+"I'll tell you some things about myself. I had a cousin..."\r
+\r
+"I know! Cyril Matveich... but he is old."\r
+\r
+"He was not always old. But this is what I'll do, Natasha, I'll have a\r
+talk with Boris. He need not come so often...."\r
+\r
+"Why not, if he likes to?"\r
+\r
+"Because I know it will end in nothing...."\r
+\r
+"How can you know? No, Mamma, don't speak to him! What nonsense!" said\r
+Natasha in the tone of one being deprived of her property. "Well, I\r
+won't marry, but let him come if he enjoys it and I enjoy it." Natasha\r
+smiled and looked at her mother. "Not to marry, but just so," she added.\r
+\r
+"How so, my pet?"\r
+\r
+"Just so. There's no need for me to marry him. But... just so."\r
+\r
+"Just so, just so," repeated the countess, and shaking all over, she\r
+went off into a good humored, unexpected, elderly laugh.\r
+\r
+"Don't laugh, stop!" cried Natasha. "You're shaking the whole bed!\r
+You're awfully like me, just such another giggler.... Wait..." and she\r
+seized the countess' hands and kissed a knuckle of the little finger,\r
+saying, "June," and continued, kissing, "July, August," on the other\r
+hand. "But, Mamma, is he very much in love? What do you think? Was\r
+anybody ever so much in love with you? And he's very nice, very, very\r
+nice. Only not quite my taste--he is so narrow, like the dining-room\r
+clock.... Don't you understand? Narrow, you know--gray, light gray..."\r
+\r
+"What rubbish you're talking!" said the countess.\r
+\r
+Natasha continued: "Don't you really understand? Nicholas would\r
+understand.... Bezukhov, now, is blue, dark-blue and red, and he is\r
+square."\r
+\r
+"You flirt with him too," said the countess, laughing.\r
+\r
+"No, he is a Freemason, I have found out. He is fine, dark-blue and\r
+red.... How can I explain it to you?"\r
+\r
+"Little countess!" the count's voice called from behind the door.\r
+"You're not asleep?" Natasha jumped up, snatched up her slippers, and\r
+ran barefoot to her own room.\r
+\r
+It was a long time before she could sleep. She kept thinking that no one\r
+could understand all that she understood and all there was in her.\r
+\r
+"Sonya?" she thought, glancing at that curled-up, sleeping little kitten\r
+with her enormous plait of hair. "No, how could she? She's virtuous. She\r
+fell in love with Nicholas and does not wish to know anything more. Even\r
+Mamma does not understand. It is wonderful how clever I am and how...\r
+charming she is," she went on, speaking of herself in the third person,\r
+and imagining it was some very wise man--the wisest and best of men--who\r
+was saying it of her. "There is everything, everything in her,"\r
+continued this man. "She is unusually intelligent, charming... and then\r
+she is pretty, uncommonly pretty, and agile--she swims and rides\r
+splendidly... and her voice! One can really say it's a wonderful voice!"\r
+\r
+She hummed a scrap from her favorite opera by Cherubini, threw herself\r
+on her bed, laughed at the pleasant thought that she would immediately\r
+fall asleep, called Dunyasha the maid to put out the candle, and before\r
+Dunyasha had left the room had already passed into yet another happier\r
+world of dreams, where everything was as light and beautiful as in\r
+reality, and even more so because it was different.\r
+\r
+Next day the countess called Boris aside and had a talk with him, after\r
+which he ceased coming to the Rostovs'.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIV\r
+\r
+On the thirty-first of December, New Year's Eve, 1809 - 10 an old\r
+grandee of Catherine's day was giving a ball and midnight supper. The\r
+diplomatic corps and the Emperor himself were to be present.\r
+\r
+The grandee's well-known mansion on the English Quay glittered with\r
+innumerable lights. Police were stationed at the brightly lit entrance\r
+which was carpeted with red baize, and not only gendarmes but dozens of\r
+police officers and even the police master himself stood at the porch.\r
+Carriages kept driving away and fresh ones arriving, with red-liveried\r
+footmen and footmen in plumed hats. From the carriages emerged men\r
+wearing uniforms, stars, and ribbons, while ladies in satin and ermine\r
+cautiously descended the carriage steps which were let down for them\r
+with a clatter, and then walked hurriedly and noiselessly over the baize\r
+at the entrance.\r
+\r
+Almost every time a new carriage drove up a whisper ran through the\r
+crowd and caps were doffed.\r
+\r
+"The Emperor?... No, a minister.... prince... ambassador. Don't you see\r
+the plumes?..." was whispered among the crowd.\r
+\r
+One person, better dressed than the rest, seemed to know everyone and\r
+mentioned by name the greatest dignitaries of the day.\r
+\r
+A third of the visitors had already arrived, but the Rostovs, who were\r
+to be present, were still hurrying to get dressed.\r
+\r
+There had been many discussions and preparations for this ball in the\r
+Rostov family, many fears that the invitation would not arrive, that the\r
+dresses would not be ready, or that something would not be arranged as\r
+it should be.\r
+\r
+Marya Ignatevna Peronskaya, a thin and shallow maid of honor at the\r
+court of the Dowager Empress, who was a friend and relation of the\r
+countess and piloted the provincial Rostovs in Petersburg high society,\r
+was to accompany them to the ball.\r
+\r
+They were to call for her at her house in the Taurida Gardens at ten\r
+o'clock, but it was already five minutes to ten, and the girls were not\r
+yet dressed.\r
+\r
+Natasha was going to her first grand ball. She had got up at eight that\r
+morning and had been in a fever of excitement and activity all day. All\r
+her powers since morning had been concentrated on ensuring that they\r
+all--she herself, Mamma, and Sonya--should be as well dressed as\r
+possible. Sonya and her mother put themselves entirely in her hands. The\r
+countess was to wear a claret-colored velvet dress, and the two girls\r
+white gauze over pink silk slips, with roses on their bodices and their\r
+hair dressed a la grecque.\r
+\r
+Everything essential had already been done; feet, hands, necks, and ears\r
+washed, perfumed, and powdered, as befits a ball; the openwork silk\r
+stockings and white satin shoes with ribbons were already on; the\r
+hairdressing was almost done. Sonya was finishing dressing and so was\r
+the countess, but Natasha, who had bustled about helping them all, was\r
+behindhand. She was still sitting before a looking-glass with a dressing\r
+jacket thrown over her slender shoulders. Sonya stood ready dressed in\r
+the middle of the room and, pressing the head of a pin till it hurt her\r
+dainty finger, was fixing on a last ribbon that squeaked as the pin went\r
+through it.\r
+\r
+"That's not the way, that's not the way, Sonya!" cried Natasha turning\r
+her head and clutching with both hands at her hair which the maid who\r
+was dressing it had not time to release. "That bow is not right. Come\r
+here!"\r
+\r
+Sonya sat down and Natasha pinned the ribbon on differently.\r
+\r
+"Allow me, Miss! I can't do it like that," said the maid who was holding\r
+Natasha's hair.\r
+\r
+"Oh, dear! Well then, wait. That's right, Sonya."\r
+\r
+"Aren't you ready? It is nearly ten," came the countess' voice.\r
+\r
+"Directly! Directly! And you, Mamma?"\r
+\r
+"I have only my cap to pin on."\r
+\r
+"Don't do it without me!" called Natasha. "You won't do it right."\r
+\r
+"But it's already ten."\r
+\r
+They had decided to be at the ball by half past ten, and Natasha had\r
+still to get dressed and they had to call at the Taurida Gardens.\r
+\r
+When her hair was done, Natasha, in her short petticoat from under which\r
+her dancing shoes showed, and in her mother's dressing jacket, ran up to\r
+Sonya, scrutinized her, and then ran to her mother. Turning her mother's\r
+head this way and that, she fastened on the cap and, hurriedly kissing\r
+her gray hair, ran back to the maids who were turning up the hem of her\r
+skirt.\r
+\r
+The cause of the delay was Natasha's skirt, which was too long. Two\r
+maids were turning up the hem and hurriedly biting off the ends of\r
+thread. A third with pins in her mouth was running about between the\r
+countess and Sonya, and a fourth held the whole of the gossamer garment\r
+up high on one uplifted hand.\r
+\r
+"Mavra, quicker, darling!"\r
+\r
+"Give me my thimble, Miss, from there..."\r
+\r
+"Whenever will you be ready?" asked the count coming to the door. "Here\r
+is some scent. Peronskaya must be tired of waiting."\r
+\r
+"It's ready, Miss," said the maid, holding up the shortened gauze dress\r
+with two fingers, and blowing and shaking something off it, as if by\r
+this to express a consciousness of the airiness and purity of what she\r
+held.\r
+\r
+Natasha began putting on the dress.\r
+\r
+"In a minute! In a minute! Don't come in, Papa!" she cried to her father\r
+as he opened the door--speaking from under the filmy skirt which still\r
+covered her whole face.\r
+\r
+Sonya slammed the door to. A minute later they let the count in. He was\r
+wearing a blue swallow-tail coat, shoes and stockings, and was perfumed\r
+and his hair pomaded.\r
+\r
+"Oh, Papa! how nice you look! Charming!" cried Natasha, as she stood in\r
+the middle of the room smoothing out the folds of the gauze.\r
+\r
+"If you please, Miss! allow me," said the maid, who on her knees was\r
+pulling the skirt straight and shifting the pins from one side of her\r
+mouth to the other with her tongue.\r
+\r
+"Say what you like," exclaimed Sonya, in a despairing voice as she\r
+looked at Natasha, "say what you like, it's still too long."\r
+\r
+Natasha stepped back to look at herself in the pier glass. The dress was\r
+too long.\r
+\r
+"Really, madam, it is not at all too long," said Mavra, crawling on her\r
+knees after her young lady.\r
+\r
+"Well, if it's too long we'll take it up... we'll tack it up in one\r
+minute," said the resolute Dunyasha taking a needle that was stuck on\r
+the front of her little shawl and, still kneeling on the floor, set to\r
+work once more.\r
+\r
+At that moment, with soft steps, the countess came in shyly, in her cap\r
+and velvet gown.\r
+\r
+"Oo-oo, my beauty!" exclaimed the count, "she looks better than any of\r
+you!"\r
+\r
+He would have embraced her but, blushing, she stepped aside fearing to\r
+be rumpled.\r
+\r
+"Mamma, your cap, more to this side," said Natasha. "I'll arrange it,"\r
+and she rushed forward so that the maids who were tacking up her skirt\r
+could not move fast enough and a piece of gauze was torn off.\r
+\r
+"Oh goodness! What has happened? Really it was not my fault!"\r
+\r
+"Never mind, I'll run it up, it won't show," said Dunyasha.\r
+\r
+"What a beauty--a very queen!" said the nurse as she came to the door.\r
+"And Sonya! They are lovely!"\r
+\r
+At a quarter past ten they at last got into their carriages and started.\r
+But they had still to call at the Taurida Gardens.\r
+\r
+Peronskaya was quite ready. In spite of her age and plainness she had\r
+gone through the same process as the Rostovs, but with less flurry--for\r
+to her it was a matter of routine. Her ugly old body was washed,\r
+perfumed, and powdered in just the same way. She had washed behind her\r
+ears just as carefully, and when she entered her drawing room in her\r
+yellow dress, wearing her badge as maid of honor, her old lady's maid\r
+was as full of rapturous admiration as the Rostovs' servants had been.\r
+\r
+She praised the Rostovs' toilets. They praised her taste and toilet, and\r
+at eleven o'clock, careful of their coiffures and dresses, they settled\r
+themselves in their carriages and drove off.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XV\r
+\r
+Natasha had not had a moment free since early morning and had not once\r
+had time to think of what lay before her.\r
+\r
+In the damp chill air and crowded closeness of the swaying carriage, she\r
+for the first time vividly imagined what was in store for her there at\r
+the ball, in those brightly lighted rooms--with music, flowers, dances,\r
+the Emperor, and all the brilliant young people of Petersburg. The\r
+prospect was so splendid that she hardly believed it would come true, so\r
+out of keeping was it with the chill darkness and closeness of the\r
+carriage. She understood all that awaited her only when, after stepping\r
+over the red baize at the entrance, she entered the hall, took off her\r
+fur cloak, and, beside Sonya and in front of her mother, mounted the\r
+brightly illuminated stairs between the flowers. Only then did she\r
+remember how she must behave at a ball, and tried to assume the majestic\r
+air she considered indispensable for a girl on such an occasion. But,\r
+fortunately for her, she felt her eyes growing misty, she saw nothing\r
+clearly, her pulse beat a hundred to the minute, and the blood throbbed\r
+at her heart. She could not assume that pose, which would have made her\r
+ridiculous, and she moved on almost fainting from excitement and trying\r
+with all her might to conceal it. And this was the very attitude that\r
+became her best. Before and behind them other visitors were entering,\r
+also talking in low tones and wearing ball dresses. The mirrors on the\r
+landing reflected ladies in white, pale-blue, and pink dresses, with\r
+diamonds and pearls on their bare necks and arms.\r
+\r
+Natasha looked in the mirrors and could not distinguish her reflection\r
+from the others. All was blended into one brilliant procession. On\r
+entering the ballroom the regular hum of voices, footsteps, and\r
+greetings deafened Natasha, and the light and glitter dazzled her still\r
+more. The host and hostess, who had already been standing at the door\r
+for half an hour repeating the same words to the various arrivals,\r
+"Charme de vous voir," * greeted the Rostovs and Peronskaya in the same\r
+manner.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Delighted to see you."\r
+\r
+The two girls in their white dresses, each with a rose in her black\r
+hair, both curtsied in the same way, but the hostess' eye involuntarily\r
+rested longer on the slim Natasha. She looked at her and gave her alone\r
+a special smile in addition to her usual smile as hostess. Looking at\r
+her she may have recalled the golden, irrecoverable days of her own\r
+girlhood and her own first ball. The host also followed Natasha with his\r
+eyes and asked the count which was his daughter.\r
+\r
+"Charming!" said he, kissing the tips of his fingers.\r
+\r
+In the ballroom guests stood crowding at the entrance doors awaiting the\r
+Emperor. The countess took up a position in one of the front rows of\r
+that crowd. Natasha heard and felt that several people were asking about\r
+her and looking at her. She realized that those noticing her liked her,\r
+and this observation helped to calm her.\r
+\r
+"There are some like ourselves and some worse," she thought.\r
+\r
+Peronskaya was pointing out to the countess the most important people at\r
+the ball.\r
+\r
+"That is the Dutch ambassador, do you see? That gray-haired man," she\r
+said, indicating an old man with a profusion of silver-gray curly hair,\r
+who was surrounded by ladies laughing at something he said.\r
+\r
+"Ah, here she is, the Queen of Petersburg, Countess Bezukhova," said\r
+Peronskaya, indicating Helene who had just entered. "How lovely! She is\r
+quite equal to Marya Antonovna. See how the men, young and old, pay\r
+court to her. Beautiful and clever... they say Prince--is quite mad\r
+about her. But see, those two, though not good-looking, are even more\r
+run after."\r
+\r
+She pointed to a lady who was crossing the room followed by a very plain\r
+daughter.\r
+\r
+"She is a splendid match, a millionairess," said Peronskaya. "And look,\r
+here come her suitors."\r
+\r
+"That is Bezukhova's brother, Anatole Kuragin," she said, indicating a\r
+handsome officer of the Horse Guards who passed by them with head erect,\r
+looking at something over the heads of the ladies. "He's handsome, isn't\r
+he? I hear they will marry him to that rich girl. But your cousin,\r
+Drubetskoy, is also very attentive to her. They say she has millions. Oh\r
+yes, that's the French ambassador himself!" she replied to the countess'\r
+inquiry about Caulaincourt. "Looks as if he were a king! All the same,\r
+the French are charming, very charming. No one more charming in society.\r
+Ah, here she is! Yes, she is still the most beautiful of them all, our\r
+Marya Antonovna! And how simply she is dressed! Lovely! And that stout\r
+one in spectacles is the universal Freemason," she went on, indicating\r
+Pierre. "Put him beside his wife and he looks a regular buffoon!"\r
+\r
+Pierre, swaying his stout body, advanced, making way through the crowd\r
+and nodding to right and left as casually and good-naturedly as if he\r
+were passing through a crowd at a fair. He pushed through, evidently\r
+looking for someone.\r
+\r
+Natasha looked joyfully at the familiar face of Pierre, "the buffoon,"\r
+as Peronskaya had called him, and knew he was looking for them, and for\r
+her in particular. He had promised to be at the ball and introduce\r
+partners to her.\r
+\r
+But before he reached them Pierre stopped beside a very handsome, dark\r
+man of middle height, and in a white uniform, who stood by a window\r
+talking to a tall man wearing stars and a ribbon. Natasha at once\r
+recognized the shorter and younger man in the white uniform: it was\r
+Bolkonski, who seemed to her to have grown much younger, happier, and\r
+better-looking.\r
+\r
+"There's someone else we know--Bolkonski, do you see, Mamma?" said\r
+Natasha, pointing out Prince Andrew. "You remember, he stayed a night\r
+with us at Otradnoe."\r
+\r
+"Oh, you know him?" said Peronskaya. "I can't bear him. Il fait a\r
+present la pluie et le beau temps. * He's too proud for anything. Takes\r
+after his father. And he's hand in glove with Speranski, writing some\r
+project or other. Just look how he treats the ladies! There's one\r
+talking to him and he has turned away," she said, pointing at him. "I'd\r
+give it to him if he treated me as he does those ladies."\r
+\r
+\r
+* "He is all the rage just now."\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVI\r
+\r
+Suddenly everybody stirred, began talking, and pressed forward and then\r
+back, and between the two rows, which separated, the Emperor entered to\r
+the sounds of music that had immediately struck up. Behind him walked\r
+his host and hostess. He walked in rapidly, bowing to right and left as\r
+if anxious to get the first moments of the reception over. The band\r
+played the polonaise in vogue at that time on account of the words that\r
+had been set to it, beginning: "Alexander, Elisaveta, all our hearts you\r
+ravish quite..." The Emperor passed on to the drawing room, the crowd\r
+made a rush for the doors, and several persons with excited faces\r
+hurried there and back again. Then the crowd hastily retired from the\r
+drawing-room door, at which the Emperor reappeared talking to the\r
+hostess. A young man, looking distraught, pounced down on the ladies,\r
+asking them to move aside. Some ladies, with faces betraying complete\r
+forgetfulness of all the rules of decorum, pushed forward to the\r
+detriment of their toilets. The men began to choose partners and take\r
+their places for the polonaise.\r
+\r
+Everyone moved back, and the Emperor came smiling out of the drawing\r
+room leading his hostess by the hand but not keeping time to the music.\r
+The host followed with Marya Antonovna Naryshkina; then came\r
+ambassadors, ministers, and various generals, whom Peronskaya diligently\r
+named. More than half the ladies already had partners and were taking\r
+up, or preparing to take up, their positions for the polonaise. Natasha\r
+felt that she would be left with her mother and Sonya among a minority\r
+of women who crowded near the wall, not having been invited to dance.\r
+She stood with her slender arms hanging down, her scarcely defined bosom\r
+rising and falling regularly, and with bated breath and glittering,\r
+frightened eyes gazed straight before her, evidently prepared for the\r
+height of joy or misery. She was not concerned about the Emperor or any\r
+of those great people whom Peronskaya was pointing out--she had but one\r
+thought: "Is it possible no one will ask me, that I shall not be among\r
+the first to dance? Is it possible that not one of all these men will\r
+notice me? They do not even seem to see me, or if they do they look as\r
+if they were saying, 'Ah, she's not the one I'm after, so it's not worth\r
+looking at her!' No, it's impossible," she thought. "They must know how\r
+I long to dance, how splendidly I dance, and how they would enjoy\r
+dancing with me."\r
+\r
+The strains of the polonaise, which had continued for a considerable\r
+time, had begun to sound like a sad reminiscence to Natasha's ears. She\r
+wanted to cry. Peronskaya had left them. The count was at the other end\r
+of the room. She and the countess and Sonya were standing by themselves\r
+as in the depths of a forest amid that crowd of strangers, with no one\r
+interested in them and not wanted by anyone. Prince Andrew with a lady\r
+passed by, evidently not recognizing them. The handsome Anatole was\r
+smilingly talking to a partner on his arm and looked at Natasha as one\r
+looks at a wall. Boris passed them twice and each time turned away. Berg\r
+and his wife, who were not dancing, came up to them.\r
+\r
+This family gathering seemed humiliating to Natasha--as if there were\r
+nowhere else for the family to talk but here at the ball. She did not\r
+listen to or look at Vera, who was telling her something about her own\r
+green dress.\r
+\r
+At last the Emperor stopped beside his last partner (he had danced with\r
+three) and the music ceased. A worried aide-de-camp ran up to the\r
+Rostovs requesting them to stand farther back, though as it was they\r
+were already close to the wall, and from the gallery resounded the\r
+distinct, precise, enticingly rhythmical strains of a waltz. The Emperor\r
+looked smilingly down the room. A minute passed but no one had yet begun\r
+dancing. An aide-de-camp, the Master of Ceremonies, went up to Countess\r
+Bezukhova and asked her to dance. She smilingly raised her hand and laid\r
+it on his shoulder without looking at him. The aide-de-camp, an adept in\r
+his art, grasping his partner firmly round her waist, with confident\r
+deliberation started smoothly, gliding first round the edge of the\r
+circle, then at the corner of the room he caught Helene's left hand and\r
+turned her, the only sound audible, apart from the ever-quickening\r
+music, being the rhythmic click of the spurs on his rapid, agile feet,\r
+while at every third beat his partner's velvet dress spread out and\r
+seemed to flash as she whirled round. Natasha gazed at them and was\r
+ready to cry because it was not she who was dancing that first turn of\r
+the waltz.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew, in the white uniform of a cavalry colonel, wearing\r
+stockings and dancing shoes, stood looking animated and bright in the\r
+front row of the circle not far from the Rostovs. Baron Firhoff was\r
+talking to him about the first sitting of the Council of State to be\r
+held next day. Prince Andrew, as one closely connected with Speranski\r
+and participating in the work of the legislative commission, could give\r
+reliable information about that sitting, concerning which various rumors\r
+were current. But not listening to what Firhoff was saying, he was\r
+gazing now at the sovereign and now at the men intending to dance who\r
+had not yet gathered courage to enter the circle.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew was watching these men abashed by the Emperor's presence,\r
+and the women who were breathlessly longing to be asked to dance.\r
+\r
+Pierre came up to him and caught him by the arm.\r
+\r
+"You always dance. I have a protegee, the young Rostova, here. Ask her,"\r
+he said.\r
+\r
+"Where is she?" asked Bolkonski. "Excuse me!" he added, turning to the\r
+baron, "we will finish this conversation elsewhere--at a ball one must\r
+dance." He stepped forward in the direction Pierre indicated. The\r
+despairing, dejected expression of Natasha's face caught his eye. He\r
+recognized her, guessed her feelings, saw that it was her debut,\r
+remembered her conversation at the window, and with an expression of\r
+pleasure on his face approached Countess Rostova.\r
+\r
+"Allow me to introduce you to my daughter," said the countess, with\r
+heightened color.\r
+\r
+"I have the pleasure of being already acquainted, if the countess\r
+remembers me," said Prince Andrew with a low and courteous bow quite\r
+belying Peronskaya's remarks about his rudeness, and approaching Natasha\r
+he held out his arm to grasp her waist before he had completed his\r
+invitation. He asked her to waltz. That tremulous expression on\r
+Natasha's face, prepared either for despair or rapture, suddenly\r
+brightened into a happy, grateful, childlike smile.\r
+\r
+"I have long been waiting for you," that frightened happy little girl\r
+seemed to say by the smile that replaced the threatened tears, as she\r
+raised her hand to Prince Andrew's shoulder. They were the second couple\r
+to enter the circle. Prince Andrew was one of the best dancers of his\r
+day and Natasha danced exquisitely. Her little feet in their white satin\r
+dancing shoes did their work swiftly, lightly, and independently of\r
+herself, while her face beamed with ecstatic happiness. Her slender bare\r
+arms and neck were not beautiful--compared to Helene's her shoulders\r
+looked thin and her bosom undeveloped. But Helene seemed, as it were,\r
+hardened by a varnish left by the thousands of looks that had scanned\r
+her person, while Natasha was like a girl exposed for the first time,\r
+who would have felt very much ashamed had she not been assured that this\r
+was absolutely necessary.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew liked dancing, and wishing to escape as quickly as\r
+possible from the political and clever talk which everyone addressed to\r
+him, wishing also to break up the circle of restraint he disliked,\r
+caused by the Emperor's presence, he danced, and had chosen Natasha\r
+because Pierre pointed her out to him and because she was the first\r
+pretty girl who caught his eye; but scarcely had he embraced that\r
+slender supple figure and felt her stirring so close to him and smiling\r
+so near him than the wine of her charm rose to his head, and he felt\r
+himself revived and rejuvenated when after leaving her he stood\r
+breathing deeply and watching the other dancers.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVII\r
+\r
+After Prince Andrew, Boris came up to ask Natasha for a dance, and then\r
+the aide-de-camp who had opened the ball, and several other young men,\r
+so that, flushed and happy, and passing on her superfluous partners to\r
+Sonya, she did not cease dancing all the evening. She noticed and saw\r
+nothing of what occupied everyone else. Not only did she fail to notice\r
+that the Emperor talked a long time with the French ambassador, and how\r
+particularly gracious he was to a certain lady, or that Prince So-and-so\r
+and So-and-so did and said this and that, and that Helene had great\r
+success and was honored by the special attention of So-and-so, but she\r
+did not even see the Emperor, and only noticed that he had gone because\r
+the ball became livelier after his departure. For one of the merry\r
+cotillions before supper Prince Andrew was again her partner. He\r
+reminded her of their first encounter in the Otradnoe avenue, and how\r
+she had been unable to sleep that moonlight night, and told her how he\r
+had involuntarily overheard her. Natasha blushed at that recollection\r
+and tried to excuse herself, as if there had been something to be\r
+ashamed of in what Prince Andrew had overheard.\r
+\r
+Like all men who have grown up in society, Prince Andrew liked meeting\r
+someone there not of the conventional society stamp. And such was\r
+Natasha, with her surprise, her delight, her shyness, and even her\r
+mistakes in speaking French. With her he behaved with special care and\r
+tenderness, sitting beside her and talking of the simplest and most\r
+unimportant matters; he admired her shy grace. In the middle of the\r
+cotillion, having completed one of the figures, Natasha, still out of\r
+breath, was returning to her seat when another dancer chose her. She was\r
+tired and panting and evidently thought of declining, but immediately\r
+put her hand gaily on the man's shoulder, smiling at Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+"I'd be glad to sit beside you and rest: I'm tired; but you see how they\r
+keep asking me, and I'm glad of it, I'm happy and I love everybody, and\r
+you and I understand it all," and much, much more was said in her smile.\r
+When her partner left her Natasha ran across the room to choose two\r
+ladies for the figure.\r
+\r
+"If she goes to her cousin first and then to another lady, she will be\r
+my wife," said Prince Andrew to himself quite to his own surprise, as he\r
+watched her. She did go first to her cousin.\r
+\r
+"What rubbish sometimes enters one's head!" thought Prince Andrew, "but\r
+what is certain is that that girl is so charming, so original, that she\r
+won't be dancing here a month before she will be married.... Such as she\r
+are rare here," he thought, as Natasha, readjusting a rose that was\r
+slipping on her bodice, settled herself beside him.\r
+\r
+When the cotillion was over the old count in his blue coat came up to\r
+the dancers. He invited Prince Andrew to come and see them, and asked\r
+his daughter whether she was enjoying herself. Natasha did not answer at\r
+once but only looked up with a smile that said reproachfully: "How can\r
+you ask such a question?"\r
+\r
+"I have never enjoyed myself so much before!" she said, and Prince\r
+Andrew noticed how her thin arms rose quickly as if to embrace her\r
+father and instantly dropped again. Natasha was happier than she had\r
+ever been in her life. She was at that height of bliss when one becomes\r
+completely kind and good and does not believe in the possibility of\r
+evil, unhappiness, or sorrow.\r
+\r
+At that ball Pierre for the first time felt humiliated by the position\r
+his wife occupied in court circles. He was gloomy and absent-minded. A\r
+deep furrow ran across his forehead, and standing by a window he stared\r
+over his spectacles seeing no one.\r
+\r
+On her way to supper Natasha passed him.\r
+\r
+Pierre's gloomy, unhappy look struck her. She stopped in front of him.\r
+She wished to help him, to bestow on him the superabundance of her own\r
+happiness.\r
+\r
+"How delightful it is, Count!" said she. "Isn't it?"\r
+\r
+Pierre smiled absent-mindedly, evidently not grasping what she said.\r
+\r
+"Yes, I am very glad," he said.\r
+\r
+"How can people be dissatisfied with anything?" thought Natasha.\r
+"Especially such a capital fellow as Bezukhov!" In Natasha's eyes all\r
+the people at the ball alike were good, kind, and splendid people,\r
+loving one another; none of them capable of injuring another--and so\r
+they ought all to be happy.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVIII\r
+\r
+Next day Prince Andrew thought of the ball, but his mind did not dwell\r
+on it long. "Yes, it was a very brilliant ball," and then... "Yes, that\r
+little Rostova is very charming. There's something fresh, original, un-\r
+Petersburg-like about her that distinguishes her." That was all he\r
+thought about yesterday's ball, and after his morning tea he set to\r
+work.\r
+\r
+But either from fatigue or want of sleep he was ill-disposed for work\r
+and could get nothing done. He kept criticizing his own work, as he\r
+often did, and was glad when he heard someone coming.\r
+\r
+The visitor was Bitski, who served on various committees, frequented all\r
+the societies in Petersburg, and a passionate devotee of the new ideas\r
+and of Speranski, and a diligent Petersburg newsmonger--one of those men\r
+who choose their opinions like their clothes according to the fashion,\r
+but who for that very reason appear to be the warmest partisans. Hardly\r
+had he got rid of his hat before he ran into Prince Andrew's room with a\r
+preoccupied air and at once began talking. He had just heard particulars\r
+of that morning's sitting of the Council of State opened by the Emperor,\r
+and he spoke of it enthusiastically. The Emperor's speech had been\r
+extraordinary. It had been a speech such as only constitutional monarchs\r
+deliver. "The Sovereign plainly said that the Council and Senate are\r
+estates of the realm, he said that the government must rest not on\r
+authority but on secure bases. The Emperor said that the fiscal system\r
+must be reorganized and the accounts published," recounted Bitski,\r
+emphasizing certain words and opening his eyes significantly.\r
+\r
+"Ah, yes! Today's events mark an epoch, the greatest epoch in our\r
+history," he concluded.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew listened to the account of the opening of the Council of\r
+State, which he had so impatiently awaited and to which he had attached\r
+such importance, and was surprised that this event, now that it had\r
+taken place, did not affect him, and even seemed quite insignificant. He\r
+listened with quiet irony to Bitski's enthusiastic account of it. A very\r
+simple thought occurred to him: "What does it matter to me or to Bitski\r
+what the Emperor was pleased to say at the Council? Can all that make me\r
+any happier or better?"\r
+\r
+And this simple reflection suddenly destroyed all the interest Prince\r
+Andrew had felt in the impending reforms. He was going to dine that\r
+evening at Speranski's, "with only a few friends," as the host had said\r
+when inviting him. The prospect of that dinner in the intimate home\r
+circle of the man he so admired had greatly interested Prince Andrew,\r
+especially as he had not yet seen Speranski in his domestic\r
+surroundings, but now he felt disinclined to go to it.\r
+\r
+At the appointed hour, however, he entered the modest house Speranski\r
+owned in the Taurida Gardens. In the parqueted dining room this small\r
+house, remarkable for its extreme cleanliness (suggesting that of a\r
+monastery), Prince Andrew, who was rather late, found the friendly\r
+gathering of Speranski's intimate acquaintances already assembled at\r
+five o'clock. There were no ladies present except Speranski's little\r
+daughter (long-faced like her father) and her governess. The other\r
+guests were Gervais, Magnitski, and Stolypin. While still in the\r
+anteroom Prince Andrew heard loud voices and a ringing staccato laugh--a\r
+laugh such as one hears on the stage. Someone--it sounded like\r
+Speranski--was distinctly ejaculating ha-ha-ha. Prince Andrew had never\r
+before heard Speranski's famous laugh, and this ringing, high-pitched\r
+laughter from a statesman made a strange impression on him.\r
+\r
+He entered the dining room. The whole company were standing between two\r
+windows at a small table laid with hors-d'oeuvres. Speranski, wearing a\r
+gray swallow-tail coat with a star on the breast, and evidently still\r
+the same waistcoat and high white stock he had worn at the meeting of\r
+the Council of State, stood at the table with a beaming countenance. His\r
+guests surrounded him. Magnitski, addressing himself to Speranski, was\r
+relating an anecdote, and Speranski was laughing in advance at what\r
+Magnitski was going to say. When Prince Andrew entered the room\r
+Magnitski's words were again crowned by laughter. Stolypin gave a deep\r
+bass guffaw as he munched a piece of bread and cheese. Gervais laughed\r
+softly with a hissing chuckle, and Speranski in a high-pitched staccato\r
+manner.\r
+\r
+Still laughing, Speranski held out his soft white hand to Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+"Very pleased to see you, Prince," he said. "One moment..." he went on,\r
+turning to Magnitski and interrupting his story. "We have agreed that\r
+this is a dinner for recreation, with not a word about business!" and\r
+turning again to the narrator he began to laugh afresh.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew looked at the laughing Speranski with astonishment,\r
+regret, and disillusionment. It seemed to him that this was not\r
+Speranski but someone else. Everything that had formerly appeared\r
+mysterious and fascinating in Speranski suddenly became plain and\r
+unattractive.\r
+\r
+At dinner the conversation did not cease for a moment and seemed to\r
+consist of the contents of a book of funny anecdotes. Before Magnitski\r
+had finished his story someone else was anxious to relate something\r
+still funnier. Most of the anecdotes, if not relating to the state\r
+service, related to people in the service. It seemed that in this\r
+company the insignificance of those people was so definitely accepted\r
+that the only possible attitude toward them was one of good humored\r
+ridicule. Speranski related how at the Council that morning a deaf\r
+dignitary, when asked his opinion, replied that he thought so too.\r
+Gervais gave a long account of an official revision, remarkable for the\r
+stupidity of everybody concerned. Stolypin, stuttering, broke into the\r
+conversation and began excitedly talking of the abuses that existed\r
+under the former order of things--threatening to give a serious turn to\r
+the conversation. Magnitski starting quizzing Stolypin about his\r
+vehemence. Gervais intervened with a joke, and the talk reverted to its\r
+former lively tone.\r
+\r
+Evidently Speranski liked to rest after his labors and find amusement in\r
+a circle of friends, and his guests, understanding his wish, tried to\r
+enliven him and amuse themselves. But their gaiety seemed to Prince\r
+Andrew mirthless and tiresome. Speranski's high-pitched voice struck him\r
+unpleasantly, and the incessant laughter grated on him like a false\r
+note. Prince Andrew did not laugh and feared that he would be a damper\r
+on the spirits of the company, but no one took any notice of his being\r
+out of harmony with the general mood. They all seemed very gay.\r
+\r
+He tried several times to join in the conversation, but his remarks were\r
+tossed aside each time like a cork thrown out of the water, and he could\r
+not jest with them.\r
+\r
+There was nothing wrong or unseemly in what they said, it was witty and\r
+might have been funny, but it lacked just that something which is the\r
+salt of mirth, and they were not even aware that such a thing existed.\r
+\r
+After dinner Speranski's daughter and her governess rose. He patted the\r
+little girl with his white hand and kissed her. And that gesture, too,\r
+seemed unnatural to Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+The men remained at table over their port--English fashion. In the midst\r
+of a conversation that was started about Napoleon's Spanish affairs,\r
+which they all agreed in approving, Prince Andrew began to express a\r
+contrary opinion. Speranski smiled and, with an evident wish to prevent\r
+the conversation from taking an unpleasant course, told a story that had\r
+no connection with the previous conversation. For a few moments all were\r
+silent.\r
+\r
+Having sat some time at table, Speranski corked a bottle of wine and,\r
+remarking, "Nowadays good wine rides in a carriage and pair," passed it\r
+to the servant and got up. All rose and continuing to talk loudly went\r
+into the drawing room. Two letters brought by a courier were handed to\r
+Speranski and he took them to his study. As soon as he had left the room\r
+the general merriment stopped and the guests began to converse sensibly\r
+and quietly with one another.\r
+\r
+"Now for the recitation!" said Speranski on returning from his study. "A\r
+wonderful talent!" he said to Prince Andrew, and Magnitski immediately\r
+assumed a pose and began reciting some humorous verses in French which\r
+he had composed about various well-known Petersburg people. He was\r
+interrupted several times by applause. When the verses were finished\r
+Prince Andrew went up to Speranski and took his leave.\r
+\r
+"Where are you off to so early?" asked Speranski.\r
+\r
+"I promised to go to a reception."\r
+\r
+They said no more. Prince Andrew looked closely into those mirrorlike,\r
+impenetrable eyes, and felt that it had been ridiculous of him to have\r
+expected anything from Speranski and from any of his own activities\r
+connected with him, or ever to have attributed importance to what\r
+Speranski was doing. That precise, mirthless laughter rang in Prince\r
+Andrew's ears long after he had left the house.\r
+\r
+When he reached home Prince Andrew began thinking of his life in\r
+Petersburg during those last four months as if it were something new. He\r
+recalled his exertions and solicitations, and the history of his project\r
+of army reform, which had been accepted for consideration and which they\r
+were trying to pass over in silence simply because another, a very poor\r
+one, had already been prepared and submitted to the Emperor. He thought\r
+of the meetings of a committee of which Berg was a member. He remembered\r
+how carefully and at what length everything relating to form and\r
+procedure was discussed at those meetings, and how sedulously and\r
+promptly all that related to the gist of the business was evaded. He\r
+recalled his labors on the Legal Code, and how painstakingly he had\r
+translated the articles of the Roman and French codes into Russian, and\r
+he felt ashamed of himself. Then he vividly pictured to himself\r
+Bogucharovo, his occupations in the country, his journey to Ryazan; he\r
+remembered the peasants and Dron the village elder, and mentally\r
+applying to them the Personal Rights he had divided into paragraphs, he\r
+felt astonished that he could have spent so much time on such useless\r
+work.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIX\r
+\r
+Next day Prince Andrew called at a few houses he had not visited before,\r
+and among them at the Rostovs' with whom he had renewed acquaintance at\r
+the ball. Apart from considerations of politeness which demanded the\r
+call, he wanted to see that original, eager girl who had left such a\r
+pleasant impression on his mind, in her own home.\r
+\r
+Natasha was one of the first to meet him. She was wearing a dark-blue\r
+house dress in which Prince Andrew thought her even prettier than in her\r
+ball dress. She and all the Rostov family welcomed him as an old friend,\r
+simply and cordially. The whole family, whom he had formerly judged\r
+severely, now seemed to him to consist of excellent, simple, and kindly\r
+people. The old count's hospitality and good nature, which struck one\r
+especially in Petersburg as a pleasant surprise, were such that Prince\r
+Andrew could not refuse to stay to dinner. "Yes," he thought, "they are\r
+capital people, who of course have not the slightest idea what a\r
+treasure they possess in Natasha; but they are kindly folk and form the\r
+best possible setting for this strikingly poetic, charming girl,\r
+overflowing with life!"\r
+\r
+In Natasha Prince Andrew was conscious of a strange world completely\r
+alien to him and brimful of joys unknown to him, a different world, that\r
+in the Otradnoe avenue and at the window that moonlight night had\r
+already begun to disconcert him. Now this world disconcerted him no\r
+longer and was no longer alien to him, but he himself having entered it\r
+found in it a new enjoyment.\r
+\r
+After dinner Natasha, at Prince Andrew's request, went to the clavichord\r
+and began singing. Prince Andrew stood by a window talking to the ladies\r
+and listened to her. In the midst of a phrase he ceased speaking and\r
+suddenly felt tears choking him, a thing he had thought impossible for\r
+him. He looked at Natasha as she sang, and something new and joyful\r
+stirred in his soul. He felt happy and at the same time sad. He had\r
+absolutely nothing to weep about yet he was ready to weep. What about?\r
+His former love? The little princess? His disillusionments?... His hopes\r
+for the future?... Yes and no. The chief reason was a sudden, vivid\r
+sense of the terrible contrast between something infinitely great and\r
+illimitable within him and that limited and material something that he,\r
+and even she, was. This contrast weighed on and yet cheered him while\r
+she sang.\r
+\r
+As soon as Natasha had finished she went up to him and asked how he\r
+liked her voice. She asked this and then became confused, feeling that\r
+she ought not to have asked it. He smiled, looking at her, and said he\r
+liked her singing as he liked everything she did.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew left the Rostovs' late in the evening. He went to bed from\r
+habit, but soon realized that he could not sleep. Having lit his candle\r
+he sat up in bed, then got up, then lay down again not at all troubled\r
+by his sleeplessness: his soul was as fresh and joyful as if he had\r
+stepped out of a stuffy room into God's own fresh air. It did not enter\r
+his head that he was in love with Natasha; he was not thinking about\r
+her, but only picturing her to himself, and in consequence all life\r
+appeared in a new light. "Why do I strive, why do I toil in this narrow,\r
+confined frame, when life, all life with all its joys, is open to me?"\r
+said he to himself. And for the first time for a very long while he\r
+began making happy plans for the future. He decided that he must attend\r
+to his son's education by finding a tutor and putting the boy in his\r
+charge, then he ought to retire from the service and go abroad, and see\r
+England, Switzerland and Italy. "I must use my freedom while I feel so\r
+much strength and youth in me," he said to himself. "Pierre was right\r
+when he said one must believe in the possibility of happiness in order\r
+to be happy, and now I do believe in it. Let the dead bury their dead,\r
+but while one has life one must live and be happy!" thought he.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XX\r
+\r
+One morning Colonel Berg, whom Pierre knew as he knew everybody in\r
+Moscow and Petersburg, came to see him. Berg arrived in an immaculate\r
+brand-new uniform, with his hair pomaded and brushed forward over his\r
+temples as the Emperor Alexander wore his hair.\r
+\r
+"I have just been to see the countess, your wife. Unfortunately she\r
+could not grant my request, but I hope, Count, I shall be more fortunate\r
+with you," he said with a smile.\r
+\r
+"What is it you wish, Colonel? I am at your service."\r
+\r
+"I have now quite settled in my new rooms, Count" (Berg said this with\r
+perfect conviction that this information could not but be agreeable),\r
+"and so I wish to arrange just a small party for my own and my wife's\r
+friends." (He smiled still more pleasantly.) "I wished to ask the\r
+countess and you to do me the honor of coming to tea and to supper."\r
+\r
+Only Countess Helene, considering the society of such people as the\r
+Bergs beneath her, could be cruel enough to refuse such an invitation.\r
+Berg explained so clearly why he wanted to collect at his house a small\r
+but select company, and why this would give him pleasure, and why though\r
+he grudged spending money on cards or anything harmful, he was prepared\r
+to run into some expense for the sake of good society--that Pierre could\r
+not refuse, and promised to come.\r
+\r
+"But don't be late, Count, if I may venture to ask; about ten minutes to\r
+eight, please. We shall make up a rubber. Our general is coming. He is\r
+very good to me. We shall have supper, Count. So you will do me the\r
+favor."\r
+\r
+Contrary to his habit of being late, Pierre on that day arrived at the\r
+Bergs' house, not at ten but at fifteen minutes to eight.\r
+\r
+Having prepared everything necessary for the party, the Bergs were ready\r
+for their guests' arrival.\r
+\r
+In their new, clean, and light study with its small busts and pictures\r
+and new furniture sat Berg and his wife. Berg, closely buttoned up in\r
+his new uniform, sat beside his wife explaining to her that one always\r
+could and should be acquainted with people above one, because only then\r
+does one get satisfaction from acquaintances.\r
+\r
+"You can get to know something, you can ask for something. See how I\r
+managed from my first promotion." (Berg measured his life not by years\r
+but by promotions.) "My comrades are still nobodies, while I am only\r
+waiting for a vacancy to command a regiment, and have the happiness to\r
+be your husband." (He rose and kissed Vera's hand, and on the way to her\r
+straightened out a turned-up corner of the carpet.) "And how have I\r
+obtained all this? Chiefly by knowing how to choose my aquaintances. It\r
+goes without saying that one must be conscientious and methodical."\r
+\r
+Berg smiled with a sense of his superiority over a weak woman, and\r
+paused, reflecting that this dear wife of his was after all but a weak\r
+woman who could not understand all that constitutes a man's dignity,\r
+what it was ein Mann zu sein. * Vera at the same time smiling with a\r
+sense of superiority over her good, conscientious husband, who all the\r
+same understood life wrongly, as according to Vera all men did. Berg,\r
+judging by his wife, thought all women weak and foolish. Vera, judging\r
+only by her husband and generalizing from that observation, supposed\r
+that all men, though they understand nothing and are conceited and\r
+selfish, ascribe common sense to themselves alone.\r
+\r
+\r
+* To be a man.\r
+\r
+Berg rose and embraced his wife carefully, so as not to crush her lace\r
+fichu for which he had paid a good price, kissing her straight on the\r
+lips.\r
+\r
+"The only thing is, we mustn't have children too soon," he continued,\r
+following an unconscious sequence of ideas.\r
+\r
+"Yes," answered Vera, "I don't at all want that. We must live for\r
+society."\r
+\r
+"Princess Yusupova wore one exactly like this," said Berg, pointing to\r
+the fichu with a happy and kindly smile.\r
+\r
+Just then Count Bezukhov was announced. Husband and wife glanced at one\r
+another, both smiling with self-satisfaction, and each mentally claiming\r
+the honor of this visit.\r
+\r
+"This is what comes of knowing how to make acquaintances," thought Berg.\r
+"This is what comes of knowing how to conduct oneself."\r
+\r
+"But please don't interrupt me when I am entertaining the guests," said\r
+Vera, "because I know what interests each of them and what to say to\r
+different people."\r
+\r
+Berg smiled again.\r
+\r
+"It can't be helped: men must sometimes have masculine conversation,"\r
+said he.\r
+\r
+They received Pierre in their small, new drawing-room, where it was\r
+impossible to sit down anywhere without disturbing its symmetry,\r
+neatness, and order; so it was quite comprehensible and not strange that\r
+Berg, having generously offered to disturb the symmetry of an armchair\r
+or of the sofa for his dear guest, but being apparently painfully\r
+undecided on the matter himself, eventually left the visitor to settle\r
+the question of selection. Pierre disturbed the symmetry by moving a\r
+chair for himself, and Berg and Vera immediately began their evening\r
+party, interrupting each other in their efforts to entertain their\r
+guest.\r
+\r
+Vera, having decided in her own mind that Pierre ought to be entertained\r
+with conversation about the French embassy, at once began accordingly.\r
+Berg, having decided that masculine conversation was required,\r
+interrupted his wife's remarks and touched on the question of the war\r
+with Austria, and unconsciously jumped from the general subject to\r
+personal considerations as to the proposals made him to take part in the\r
+Austrian campaign and the reasons why he had declined them. Though the\r
+conversation was very incoherent and Vera was angry at the intrusion of\r
+the masculine element, both husband and wife felt with satisfaction\r
+that, even if only one guest was present, their evening had begun very\r
+well and was as like as two peas to every other evening party with its\r
+talk, tea, and lighted candles.\r
+\r
+Before long Boris, Berg's old comrade, arrived. There was a shade of\r
+condescension and patronage in his treatment of Berg and Vera. After\r
+Boris came a lady with the colonel, then the general himself, then the\r
+Rostovs, and the party became unquestionably exactly like all other\r
+evening parties. Berg and Vera could not repress their smiles of\r
+satisfaction at the sight of all this movement in their drawing room, at\r
+the sound of the disconnected talk, the rustling of dresses, and the\r
+bowing and scraping. Everything was just as everybody always has it,\r
+especially so the general, who admired the apartment, patted Berg on the\r
+shoulder, and with parental authority superintended the setting out of\r
+the table for boston. The general sat down by Count Ilya Rostov, who was\r
+next to himself the most important guest. The old people sat with the\r
+old, the young with the young, and the hostess at the tea table, on\r
+which stood exactly the same kind of cakes in a silver cake basket as\r
+the Panins had at their party. Everything was just as it was everywhere\r
+else.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXI\r
+\r
+Pierre, as one of the principal guests, had to sit down to boston with\r
+Count Rostov, the general, and the colonel. At the card table he\r
+happened to be directly facing Natasha, and was struck by a curious\r
+change that had come over her since the ball. She was silent, and not\r
+only less pretty than at the ball, but only redeemed from plainness by\r
+her look of gentle indifference to everything around.\r
+\r
+"What's the matter with her?" thought Pierre, glancing at her. She was\r
+sitting by her sister at the tea table, and reluctantly, without looking\r
+at him, made some reply to Boris who sat down beside her. After playing\r
+out a whole suit and to his partner's delight taking five tricks,\r
+Pierre, hearing greetings and the steps of someone who had entered the\r
+room while he was picking up his tricks, glanced again at Natasha.\r
+\r
+"What has happened to her?" he asked himself with still greater\r
+surprise.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew was standing before her, saying something to her with a\r
+look of tender solicitude. She, having raised her head, was looking up\r
+at him, flushed and evidently trying to master her rapid breathing. And\r
+the bright glow of some inner fire that had been suppressed was again\r
+alight in her. She was completely transformed and from a plain girl had\r
+again become what she had been at the ball.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew went up to Pierre, and the latter noticed a new and\r
+youthful expression in his friend's face.\r
+\r
+Pierre changed places several times during the game, sitting now with\r
+his back to Natasha and now facing her, but during the whole of the six\r
+rubbers he watched her and his friend.\r
+\r
+"Something very important is happening between them," thought Pierre,\r
+and a feeling that was both joyful and painful agitated him and made him\r
+neglect the game.\r
+\r
+After six rubbers the general got up, saying that it was no use playing\r
+like that, and Pierre was released. Natasha on one side was talking with\r
+Sonya and Boris, and Vera with a subtle smile was saying something to\r
+Prince Andrew. Pierre went up to his friend and, asking whether they\r
+were talking secrets, sat down beside them. Vera, having noticed Prince\r
+Andrew's attentions to Natasha, decided that at a party, a real evening\r
+party, subtle allusions to the tender passion were absolutely necessary\r
+and, seizing a moment when Prince Andrew was alone, began a conversation\r
+with him about feelings in general and about her sister. With so\r
+intellectual a guest as she considered Prince Andrew to be, she felt\r
+that she had to employ her diplomatic tact.\r
+\r
+When Pierre went up to them he noticed that Vera was being carried away\r
+by her self-satisfied talk, but that Prince Andrew seemed embarrassed, a\r
+thing that rarely happened with him.\r
+\r
+"What do you think?" Vera was saying with an arch smile. "You are so\r
+discerning, Prince, and understand people's characters so well at a\r
+glance. What do you think of Natalie? Could she be constant in her\r
+attachments? Could she, like other women" (Vera meant herself), "love a\r
+man once for all and remain true to him forever? That is what I consider\r
+true love. What do you think, Prince?"\r
+\r
+"I know your sister too little," replied Prince Andrew, with a sarcastic\r
+smile under which he wished to hide his embarrassment, "to be able to\r
+solve so delicate a question, and then I have noticed that the less\r
+attractive a woman is the more constant she is likely to be," he added,\r
+and looked up at Pierre who was just approaching them.\r
+\r
+"Yes, that is true, Prince. In our days," continued Vera--mentioning\r
+"our days" as people of limited intelligence are fond of doing,\r
+imagining that they have discovered and appraised the peculiarities of\r
+"our days" and that human characteristics change with the times--"in our\r
+days a girl has so much freedom that the pleasure of being courted often\r
+stifles real feeling in her. And it must be confessed that Natalie is\r
+very susceptible." This return to the subject of Natalie caused Prince\r
+Andrew to knit his brows with discomfort: he was about to rise, but Vera\r
+continued with a still more subtle smile:\r
+\r
+"I think no one has been more courted than she," she went on, "but till\r
+quite lately she never cared seriously for anyone. Now you know, Count,"\r
+she said to Pierre, "even our dear cousin Boris, who, between ourselves,\r
+was very far gone in the land of tenderness..." (alluding to a map of\r
+love much in vogue at that time).\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew frowned and remained silent.\r
+\r
+"You are friendly with Boris, aren't you?" asked Vera.\r
+\r
+"Yes, I know him..."\r
+\r
+"I expect he has told you of his childish love for Natasha?"\r
+\r
+"Oh, there was childish love?" suddenly asked Prince Andrew, blushing\r
+unexpectedly.\r
+\r
+"Yes, you know between cousins intimacy often leads to love. Le\r
+cousinage est un dangereux voisinage. * Don't you think so?"\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Cousinhood is a dangerous neighborhood."\r
+\r
+"Oh, undoubtedly!" said Prince Andrew, and with sudden and unnatural\r
+liveliness he began chaffing Pierre about the need to be very careful\r
+with his fifty-year-old Moscow cousins, and in the midst of these\r
+jesting remarks he rose, taking Pierre by the arm, and drew him aside.\r
+\r
+"Well?" asked Pierre, seeing his friend's strange animation with\r
+surprise, and noticing the glance he turned on Natasha as he rose.\r
+\r
+"I must... I must have a talk with you," said Prince Andrew. "You know\r
+that pair of women's gloves?" (He referred to the masonic gloves given\r
+to a newly initiated Brother to present to the woman he loved.) "I...\r
+but no, I will talk to you later on," and with a strange light in his\r
+eyes and restlessness in his movements, Prince Andrew approached Natasha\r
+and sat down beside her. Pierre saw how Prince Andrew asked her\r
+something and how she flushed as she replied.\r
+\r
+But at that moment Berg came to Pierre and began insisting that he\r
+should take part in an argument between the general and the colonel on\r
+the affairs in Spain.\r
+\r
+Berg was satisfied and happy. The smile of pleasure never left his face.\r
+The party was very successful and quite like other parties he had seen.\r
+Everything was similar: the ladies' subtle talk, the cards, the general\r
+raising his voice at the card table, and the samovar and the tea cakes;\r
+only one thing was lacking that he had always seen at the evening\r
+parties he wished to imitate. They had not yet had a loud conversation\r
+among the men and a dispute about something important and clever. Now\r
+the general had begun such a discussion and so Berg drew Pierre to it.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXII\r
+\r
+Next day, having been invited by the count, Prince Andrew dined with the\r
+Rostovs and spent the rest of the day there.\r
+\r
+Everyone in the house realized for whose sake Prince Andrew came, and\r
+without concealing it he tried to be with Natasha all day. Not only in\r
+the soul of the frightened yet happy and enraptured Natasha, but in the\r
+whole house, there was a feeling of awe at something important that was\r
+bound to happen. The countess looked with sad and sternly serious eyes\r
+at Prince Andrew when he talked to Natasha and timidly started some\r
+artificial conversation about trifles as soon as he looked her way.\r
+Sonya was afraid to leave Natasha and afraid of being in the way when\r
+she was with them. Natasha grew pale, in a panic of expectation, when\r
+she remained alone with him for a moment. Prince Andrew surprised her by\r
+his timidity. She felt that he wanted to say something to her but could\r
+not bring himself to do so.\r
+\r
+In the evening, when Prince Andrew had left, the countess went up to\r
+Natasha and whispered: "Well, what?"\r
+\r
+"Mamma! For heaven's sake don't ask me anything now! One can't talk\r
+about that," said Natasha.\r
+\r
+But all the same that night Natasha, now agitated and now frightened,\r
+lay a long time in her mother's bed gazing straight before her. She told\r
+her how he had complimented her, how he told her he was going abroad,\r
+asked her where they were going to spend the summer, and then how he had\r
+asked her about Boris.\r
+\r
+"But such a... such a... never happened to me before!" she said. "Only I\r
+feel afraid in his presence. I am always afraid when I'm with him. What\r
+does that mean? Does it mean that it's the real thing? Yes? Mamma, are\r
+you asleep?"\r
+\r
+"No, my love; I am frightened myself," answered her mother. "Now go!"\r
+\r
+"All the same I shan't sleep. What silliness, to sleep! Mummy! Mummy!\r
+such a thing never happened to me before," she said, surprised and\r
+alarmed at the feeling she was aware of in herself. "And could we ever\r
+have thought!..."\r
+\r
+It seemed to Natasha that even at the time she first saw Prince Andrew\r
+at Otradnoe she had fallen in love with him. It was as if she feared\r
+this strange, unexpected happiness of meeting again the very man she had\r
+then chosen (she was firmly convinced she had done so) and of finding\r
+him, as it seemed, not indifferent to her.\r
+\r
+"And it had to happen that he should come specially to Petersburg while\r
+we are here. And it had to happen that we should meet at that ball. It\r
+is fate. Clearly it is fate that everything led up to this! Already\r
+then, directly I saw him I felt something peculiar."\r
+\r
+"What else did he say to you? What are those verses? Read them..." said\r
+her mother, thoughtfully, referring to some verses Prince Andrew had\r
+written in Natasha's album.\r
+\r
+"Mamma, one need not be ashamed of his being a widower?"\r
+\r
+"Don't, Natasha! Pray to God. 'Marriages are made in heaven,'" said her\r
+mother.\r
+\r
+"Darling Mummy, how I love you! How happy I am!" cried Natasha, shedding\r
+tears of joy and excitement and embracing her mother.\r
+\r
+At that very time Prince Andrew was sitting with Pierre and telling him\r
+of his love for Natasha and his firm resolve to make her his wife.\r
+\r
+That day Countess Helene had a reception at her house. The French\r
+ambassador was there, and a foreign prince of the blood who had of late\r
+become a frequent visitor of hers, and many brilliant ladies and\r
+gentlemen. Pierre, who had come downstairs, walked through the rooms and\r
+struck everyone by his preoccupied, absent-minded, and morose air.\r
+\r
+Since the ball he had felt the approach of a fit of nervous depression\r
+and had made desperate efforts to combat it. Since the intimacy of his\r
+wife with the royal prince, Pierre had unexpectedly been made a\r
+gentleman of the bedchamber, and from that time he had begun to feel\r
+oppressed and ashamed in court society, and dark thoughts of the vanity\r
+of all things human came to him oftener than before. At the same time\r
+the feeling he had noticed between his protegee Natasha and Prince\r
+Andrew accentuated his gloom by the contrast between his own position\r
+and his friend's. He tried equally to avoid thinking about his wife, and\r
+about Natasha and Prince Andrew; and again everything seemed to him\r
+insignificant in comparison with eternity; again the question: for what?\r
+presented itself; and he forced himself to work day and night at masonic\r
+labors, hoping to drive away the evil spirit that threatened him. Toward\r
+midnight, after he had left the countess' apartments, he was sitting\r
+upstairs in a shabby dressing gown, copying out the original transaction\r
+of the Scottish lodge of Freemasons at a table in his low room cloudy\r
+with tobacco smoke, when someone came in. It was Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+"Ah, it's you!" said Pierre with a preoccupied, dissatisfied air. "And\r
+I, you see, am hard at it." He pointed to his manuscript book with that\r
+air of escaping from the ills of life with which unhappy people look at\r
+their work.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew, with a beaming, ecstatic expression of renewed life on\r
+his face, paused in front of Pierre and, not noticing his sad look,\r
+smiled at him with the egotism of joy.\r
+\r
+"Well, dear heart," said he, "I wanted to tell you about it yesterday\r
+and I have come to do so today. I never experienced anything like it\r
+before. I am in love, my friend!"\r
+\r
+Suddenly Pierre heaved a deep sigh and dumped his heavy person down on\r
+the sofa beside Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+"With Natasha Rostova, yes?" said he.\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes! Who else should it be? I should never have believed it, but\r
+the feeling is stronger than I. Yesterday I tormented myself and\r
+suffered, but I would not exchange even that torment for anything in the\r
+world, I have not lived till now. At last I live, but I can't live\r
+without her! But can she love me?... I am too old for her.... Why don't\r
+you speak?"\r
+\r
+"I? I? What did I tell you?" said Pierre suddenly, rising and beginning\r
+to pace up and down the room. "I always thought it.... That girl is such\r
+a treasure... she is a rare girl.... My dear friend, I entreat you,\r
+don't philosophize, don't doubt, marry, marry, marry.... And I am sure\r
+there will not be a happier man than you."\r
+\r
+"But what of her?"\r
+\r
+"She loves you."\r
+\r
+"Don't talk rubbish..." said Prince Andrew, smiling and looking into\r
+Pierre's eyes.\r
+\r
+"She does, I know," Pierre cried fiercely.\r
+\r
+"But do listen," returned Prince Andrew, holding him by the arm. "Do you\r
+know the condition I am in? I must talk about it to someone."\r
+\r
+"Well, go on, go on. I am very glad," said Pierre, and his face really\r
+changed, his brow became smooth, and he listened gladly to Prince\r
+Andrew. Prince Andrew seemed, and really was, quite a different, quite a\r
+new man. Where was his spleen, his contempt for life, his\r
+disillusionment? Pierre was the only person to whom he made up his mind\r
+to speak openly; and to him he told all that was in his soul. Now he\r
+boldly and lightly made plans for an extended future, said he could not\r
+sacrifice his own happiness to his father's caprice, and spoke of how he\r
+would either make his father consent to this marriage and love her, or\r
+would do without his consent; then he marveled at the feeling that had\r
+mastered him as at something strange, apart from and independent of\r
+himself.\r
+\r
+"I should not have believed anyone who told me that I was capable of\r
+such love," said Prince Andrew. "It is not at all the same feeling that\r
+I knew in the past. The whole world is now for me divided into two\r
+halves: one half is she, and there all is joy, hope, light: the other\r
+half is everything where she is not, and there is all gloom and\r
+darkness...."\r
+\r
+"Darkness and gloom," reiterated Pierre: "yes, yes, I understand that."\r
+\r
+"I cannot help loving the light, it is not my fault. And I am very\r
+happy! You understand me? I know you are glad for my sake."\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes," Pierre assented, looking at his friend with a touched and\r
+sad expression in his eyes. The brighter Prince Andrew's lot appeared to\r
+him, the gloomier seemed his own.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXIII\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew needed his father's consent to his marriage, and to obtain\r
+this he started for the country next day.\r
+\r
+His father received his son's communication with external composure, but\r
+inward wrath. He could not comprehend how anyone could wish to alter his\r
+life or introduce anything new into it, when his own life was already\r
+ending. "If only they would let me end my days as I want to," thought\r
+the old man, "then they might do as they please." With his son, however,\r
+he employed the diplomacy he reserved for important occasions and,\r
+adopting a quiet tone, discussed the whole matter.\r
+\r
+In the first place the marriage was not a brilliant one as regards\r
+birth, wealth, or rank. Secondly, Prince Andrew was no longer as young\r
+as he had been and his health was poor (the old man laid special stress\r
+on this), while she was very young. Thirdly, he had a son whom it would\r
+be a pity to entrust to a chit of a girl. "Fourthly and finally," the\r
+father said, looking ironically at his son, "I beg you to put it off for\r
+a year: go abroad, take a cure, look out as you wanted to for a German\r
+tutor for Prince Nicholas. Then if your love or passion or obstinacy--as\r
+you please--is still as great, marry! And that's my last word on it.\r
+Mind, the last..." concluded the prince, in a tone which showed that\r
+nothing would make him alter his decision.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew saw clearly that the old man hoped that his feelings, or\r
+his fiancee's, would not stand a year's test, or that he (the old prince\r
+himself) would die before then, and he decided to conform to his\r
+father's wish--to propose, and postpone the wedding for a year.\r
+\r
+Three weeks after the last evening he had spent with the Rostovs, Prince\r
+Andrew returned to Petersburg.\r
+\r
+Next day after her talk with her mother Natasha expected Bolkonski all\r
+day, but he did not come. On the second and third day it was the same.\r
+Pierre did not come either and Natasha, not knowing that Prince Andrew\r
+had gone to see his father, could not explain his absence to herself.\r
+\r
+Three weeks passed in this way. Natasha had no desire to go out anywhere\r
+and wandered from room to room like a shadow, idle and listless; she\r
+wept secretly at night and did not go to her mother in the evenings. She\r
+blushed continually and was irritable. It seemed to her that everybody\r
+knew about her disappointment and was laughing at her and pitying her.\r
+Strong as was her inward grief, this wound to her vanity intensified her\r
+misery.\r
+\r
+Once she came to her mother, tried to say something, and suddenly began\r
+to cry. Her tears were those of an offended child who does not know why\r
+it is being punished.\r
+\r
+The countess began to soothe Natasha, who after first listening to her\r
+mother's words, suddenly interrupted her:\r
+\r
+"Leave off, Mamma! I don't think, and don't want to think about it! He\r
+just came and then left off, left off..."\r
+\r
+Her voice trembled, and she again nearly cried, but recovered and went\r
+on quietly:\r
+\r
+"And I don't at all want to get married. And I am afraid of him; I have\r
+now become quite calm, quite calm."\r
+\r
+The day after this conversation Natasha put on the old dress which she\r
+knew had the peculiar property of conducing to cheerfulness in the\r
+mornings, and that day she returned to the old way of life which she had\r
+abandoned since the ball. Having finished her morning tea she went to\r
+the ballroom, which she particularly liked for its loud resonance, and\r
+began singing her solfeggio. When she had finished her first exercise\r
+she stood still in the middle of the room and sang a musical phrase that\r
+particularly pleased her. She listened joyfully (as though she had not\r
+expected it) to the charm of the notes reverberating, filling the whole\r
+empty ballroom, and slowly dying away; and all at once she felt\r
+cheerful. "What's the good of making so much of it? Things are nice as\r
+it is," she said to herself, and she began walking up and down the room,\r
+not stepping simply on the resounding parquet but treading with each\r
+step from the heel to the toe (she had on a new and favorite pair of\r
+shoes) and listening to the regular tap of the heel and creak of the toe\r
+as gladly as she had to the sounds of her own voice. Passing a mirror\r
+she glanced into it. "There, that's me!" the expression of her face\r
+seemed to say as she caught sight of herself. "Well, and very nice too!\r
+I need nobody."\r
+\r
+A footman wanted to come in to clear away something in the room but she\r
+would not let him, and having closed the door behind him continued her\r
+walk. That morning she had returned to her favorite mood--love of, and\r
+delight in, herself. "How charming that Natasha is!" she said again,\r
+speaking as some third, collective, male person. "Pretty, a good voice,\r
+young, and in nobody's way if only they leave her in peace." But however\r
+much they left her in peace she could not now be at peace, and\r
+immediately felt this.\r
+\r
+In the hall the porch door opened, and someone asked, "At home?" and\r
+then footsteps were heard. Natasha was looking at the mirror, but did\r
+not see herself. She listened to the sounds in the hall. When she saw\r
+herself, her face was pale. It was he. She knew this for certain, though\r
+she hardly heard his voice through the closed doors.\r
+\r
+Pale and agitated, Natasha ran into the drawing room.\r
+\r
+"Mamma! Bolkonski has come!" she said. "Mamma, it is awful, it is\r
+unbearable! I don't want... to be tormented? What am I to do?..."\r
+\r
+Before the countess could answer, Prince Andrew entered the room with an\r
+agitated and serious face. As soon as he saw Natasha his face\r
+brightened. He kissed the countess' hand and Natasha's, and sat down\r
+beside the sofa.\r
+\r
+"It is long since we had the pleasure..." began the countess, but Prince\r
+Andrew interrupted her by answering her intended question, obviously in\r
+haste to say what he had to.\r
+\r
+"I have not been to see you all this time because I have been at my\r
+father's. I had to talk over a very important matter with him. I only\r
+got back last night," he said glancing at Natasha; "I want to have a\r
+talk with you, Countess," he added after a moment's pause.\r
+\r
+The countess lowered her eyes, sighing deeply.\r
+\r
+"I am at your disposal," she murmured.\r
+\r
+Natasha knew that she ought to go away, but was unable to do so:\r
+something gripped her throat, and regardless of manners she stared\r
+straight at Prince Andrew with wide-open eyes.\r
+\r
+"At once? This instant!... No, it can't be!" she thought.\r
+\r
+Again he glanced at her, and that glance convinced her that she was not\r
+mistaken. Yes, at once, that very instant, her fate would be decided.\r
+\r
+"Go, Natasha! I will call you," said the countess in a whisper.\r
+\r
+Natasha glanced with frightened imploring eyes at Prince Andrew and at\r
+her mother and went out.\r
+\r
+"I have come, Countess, to ask for your daughter's hand," said Prince\r
+Andrew.\r
+\r
+The countess' face flushed hotly, but she said nothing.\r
+\r
+"Your offer..." she began at last sedately. He remained silent, looking\r
+into her eyes. "Your offer..." (she grew confused) "is agreeable to us,\r
+and I accept your offer. I am glad. And my husband... I hope... but it\r
+will depend on her...."\r
+\r
+"I will speak to her when I have your consent.... Do you give it to me?"\r
+said Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+"Yes," replied the countess. She held out her hand to him, and with a\r
+mixed feeling of estrangement and tenderness pressed her lips to his\r
+forehead as he stooped to kiss her hand. She wished to love him as a\r
+son, but felt that to her he was a stranger and a terrifying man. "I am\r
+sure my husband will consent," said the countess, "but your father..."\r
+\r
+"My father, to whom I have told my plans, has made it an express\r
+condition of his consent that the wedding is not to take place for a\r
+year. And I wished to tell you of that," said Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+"It is true that Natasha is still young, but--so long as that?..."\r
+\r
+"It is unavoidable," said Prince Andrew with a sigh.\r
+\r
+"I will send her to you," said the countess, and left the room.\r
+\r
+"Lord have mercy upon us!" she repeated while seeking her daughter.\r
+\r
+Sonya said that Natasha was in her bedroom. Natasha was sitting on the\r
+bed, pale and dry eyed, and was gazing at the icons and whispering\r
+something as she rapidly crossed herself. Seeing her mother she jumped\r
+up and flew to her.\r
+\r
+"Well, Mamma?... Well?..."\r
+\r
+"Go, go to him. He is asking for your hand," said the countess, coldly\r
+it seemed to Natasha. "Go... go," said the mother, sadly and\r
+reproachfully, with a deep sigh, as her daughter ran away.\r
+\r
+Natasha never remembered how she entered the drawing room. When she came\r
+in and saw him she paused. "Is it possible that this stranger has now\r
+become everything to me?" she asked herself, and immediately answered,\r
+"Yes, everything! He alone is now dearer to me than everything in the\r
+world." Prince Andrew came up to her with downcast eyes.\r
+\r
+"I have loved you from the very first moment I saw you. May I hope?"\r
+\r
+He looked at her and was struck by the serious impassioned expression of\r
+her face. Her face said: "Why ask? Why doubt what you cannot but know?\r
+Why speak, when words cannot express what one feels?"\r
+\r
+She drew near to him and stopped. He took her hand and kissed it.\r
+\r
+"Do you love me?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes!" Natasha murmured as if in vexation. Then she sighed loudly\r
+and, catching her breath more and more quickly, began to sob.\r
+\r
+"What is it? What's the matter?"\r
+\r
+"Oh, I am so happy!" she replied, smiled through her tears, bent over\r
+closer to him, paused for an instant as if asking herself whether she\r
+might, and then kissed him.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew held her hands, looked into her eyes, and did not find in\r
+his heart his former love for her. Something in him had suddenly\r
+changed; there was no longer the former poetic and mystic charm of\r
+desire, but there was pity for her feminine and childish weakness, fear\r
+at her devotion and trustfulness, and an oppressive yet joyful sense of\r
+the duty that now bound him to her forever. The present feeling, though\r
+not so bright and poetic as the former, was stronger and more serious.\r
+\r
+"Did your mother tell you that it cannot be for a year?" asked Prince\r
+Andrew, still looking into her eyes.\r
+\r
+"Is it possible that I--the 'chit of a girl,' as everybody called me,"\r
+thought Natasha--"is it possible that I am now to be the wife and the\r
+equal of this strange, dear, clever man whom even my father looks up to?\r
+Can it be true? Can it be true that there can be no more playing with\r
+life, that now I am grown up, that on me now lies a responsibility for\r
+my every word and deed? Yes, but what did he ask me?"\r
+\r
+"No," she replied, but she had not understood his question.\r
+\r
+"Forgive me!" he said. "But you are so young, and I have already been\r
+through so much in life. I am afraid for you, you do not yet know\r
+yourself."\r
+\r
+Natasha listened with concentrated attention, trying but failing to take\r
+in the meaning of his words.\r
+\r
+"Hard as this year which delays my happiness will be," continued Prince\r
+Andrew, "it will give you time to be sure of yourself. I ask you to make\r
+me happy in a year, but you are free: our engagement shall remain a\r
+secret, and should you find that you do not love me, or should you come\r
+to love..." said Prince Andrew with an unnatural smile.\r
+\r
+"Why do you say that?" Natasha interrupted him. "You know that from the\r
+very day you first came to Otradnoe I have loved you," she cried, quite\r
+convinced that she spoke the truth.\r
+\r
+"In a year you will learn to know yourself...."\r
+\r
+"A whole year!" Natasha repeated suddenly, only now realizing that the\r
+marriage was to be postponed for a year. "But why a year? Why a\r
+year?..."\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew began to explain to her the reasons for this delay.\r
+Natasha did not hear him.\r
+\r
+"And can't it be helped?" she asked. Prince Andrew did not reply, but\r
+his face expressed the impossibility of altering that decision.\r
+\r
+"It's awful! Oh, it's awful! awful!" Natasha suddenly cried, and again\r
+burst into sobs. "I shall die, waiting a year: it's impossible, it's\r
+awful!" She looked into her lover's face and saw in it a look of\r
+commiseration and perplexity.\r
+\r
+"No, no! I'll do anything!" she said, suddenly checking her tears. "I am\r
+so happy."\r
+\r
+The father and mother came into the room and gave the betrothed couple\r
+their blessing.\r
+\r
+From that day Prince Andrew began to frequent the Rostovs' as Natasha's\r
+affianced lover.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXIV\r
+\r
+No betrothal ceremony took place and Natasha's engagement to Bolkonski\r
+was not announced; Prince Andrew insisted on that. He said that as he\r
+was responsible for the delay he ought to bear the whole burden of it;\r
+that he had given his word and bound himself forever, but that he did\r
+not wish to bind Natasha and gave her perfect freedom. If after six\r
+months she felt that she did not love him she would have full right to\r
+reject him. Naturally neither Natasha nor her parents wished to hear of\r
+this, but Prince Andrew was firm. He came every day to the Rostovs', but\r
+did not behave to Natasha as an affianced lover: he did not use the\r
+familiar thou, but said you to her, and kissed only her hand. After\r
+their engagement, quite different, intimate, and natural relations\r
+sprang up between them. It was as if they had not known each other till\r
+now. Both liked to recall how they had regarded each other when as yet\r
+they were nothing to one another; they felt themselves now quite\r
+different beings: then they were artificial, now natural and sincere. At\r
+first the family felt some constraint in intercourse with Prince Andrew;\r
+he seemed a man from another world, and for a long time Natasha trained\r
+the family to get used to him, proudly assuring them all that he only\r
+appeared to be different, but was really just like all of them, and that\r
+she was not afraid of him and no one else ought to be. After a few days\r
+they grew accustomed to him, and without restraint in his presence\r
+pursued their usual way of life, in which he took his part. He could\r
+talk about rural economy with the count, fashions with the countess and\r
+Natasha, and about albums and fancywork with Sonya. Sometimes the\r
+household both among themselves and in his presence expressed their\r
+wonder at how it had all happened, and at the evident omens there had\r
+been of it: Prince Andrew's coming to Otradnoe and their coming to\r
+Petersburg, and the likeness between Natasha and Prince Andrew which her\r
+nurse had noticed on his first visit, and Andrew's encounter with\r
+Nicholas in 1805, and many other incidents betokening that it had to be.\r
+\r
+In the house that poetic dullness and quiet reigned which always\r
+accompanies the presence of a betrothed couple. Often when all sitting\r
+together everyone kept silent. Sometimes the others would get up and go\r
+away and the couple, left alone, still remained silent. They rarely\r
+spoke of their future life. Prince Andrew was afraid and ashamed to\r
+speak of it. Natasha shared this as she did all his feelings, which she\r
+constantly divined. Once she began questioning him about his son. Prince\r
+Andrew blushed, as he often did now--Natasha particularly liked it in\r
+him--and said that his son would not live with them.\r
+\r
+"Why not?" asked Natasha in a frightened tone.\r
+\r
+"I cannot take him away from his grandfather, and besides..."\r
+\r
+"How I should have loved him!" said Natasha, immediately guessing his\r
+thought; "but I know you wish to avoid any pretext for finding fault\r
+with us."\r
+\r
+Sometimes the old count would come up, kiss Prince Andrew, and ask his\r
+advice about Petya's education or Nicholas' service. The old countess\r
+sighed as she looked at them; Sonya was always getting frightened lest\r
+she should be in the way and tried to find excuses for leaving them\r
+alone, even when they did not wish it. When Prince Andrew spoke (he\r
+could tell a story very well), Natasha listened to him with pride; when\r
+she spoke she noticed with fear and joy that he gazed attentively and\r
+scrutinizingly at her. She asked herself in perplexity: "What does he\r
+look for in me? He is trying to discover something by looking at me!\r
+What if what he seeks in me is not there?" Sometimes she fell into one\r
+of the mad, merry moods characteristic of her, and then she particularly\r
+loved to hear and see how Prince Andrew laughed. He seldom laughed, but\r
+when he did he abandoned himself entirely to his laughter, and after\r
+such a laugh she always felt nearer to him. Natasha would have been\r
+completely happy if the thought of the separation awaiting her and\r
+drawing near had not terrified her, just as the mere thought of it made\r
+him turn pale and cold.\r
+\r
+On the eve of his departure from Petersburg Prince Andrew brought with\r
+him Pierre, who had not been to the Rostovs' once since the ball. Pierre\r
+seemed disconcerted and embarrassed. He was talking to the countess, and\r
+Natasha sat down beside a little chess table with Sonya, thereby\r
+inviting Prince Andrew to come too. He did so.\r
+\r
+"You have known Bezukhov a long time?" he asked. "Do you like him?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, he's a dear, but very absurd."\r
+\r
+And as usual when speaking of Pierre, she began to tell anecdotes of his\r
+absent-mindedness, some of which had even been invented about him.\r
+\r
+"Do you know I have entrusted him with our secret? I have known him from\r
+childhood. He has a heart of gold. I beg you, Natalie," Prince Andrew\r
+said with sudden seriousness--"I am going away and heaven knows what may\r
+happen. You may cease to... all right, I know I am not to say that. Only\r
+this, then: whatever may happen to you when I am not here..."\r
+\r
+"What can happen?"\r
+\r
+"Whatever trouble may come," Prince Andrew continued, "I beg you,\r
+Mademoiselle Sophie, whatever may happen, to turn to him alone for\r
+advice and help! He is a most absent-minded and absurd fellow, but he\r
+has a heart of gold."\r
+\r
+Neither her father, nor her mother, nor Sonya, nor Prince Andrew himself\r
+could have foreseen how the separation from her lover would act on\r
+Natasha. Flushed and agitated she went about the house all that day,\r
+dry-eyed, occupied with most trivial matters as if not understanding\r
+what awaited her. She did not even cry when, on taking leave, he kissed\r
+her hand for the last time. "Don't go!" she said in a tone that made him\r
+wonder whether he really ought not to stay and which he remembered long\r
+afterwards. Nor did she cry when he was gone; but for several days she\r
+sat in her room dry-eyed, taking no interest in anything and only saying\r
+now and then, "Oh, why did he go away?"\r
+\r
+But a fortnight after his departure, to the surprise of those around\r
+her, she recovered from her mental sickness just as suddenly and became\r
+her old self again, but with a change in her moral physiognomy, as a\r
+child gets up after a long illness with a changed expression of face.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXV\r
+\r
+During that year after his son's departure, Prince Nicholas Bolkonski's\r
+health and temper became much worse. He grew still more irritable, and\r
+it was Princess Mary who generally bore the brunt of his frequent fits\r
+of unprovoked anger. He seemed carefully to seek out her tender spots so\r
+as to torture her mentally as harshly as possible. Princess Mary had two\r
+passions and consequently two joys--her nephew, little Nicholas, and\r
+religion--and these were the favorite subjects of the prince's attacks\r
+and ridicule. Whatever was spoken of he would bring round to the\r
+superstitiousness of old maids, or the petting and spoiling of children.\r
+"You want to make him"--little Nicholas--"into an old maid like\r
+yourself! A pity! Prince Andrew wants a son and not an old maid," he\r
+would say. Or, turning to Mademoiselle Bourienne, he would ask her in\r
+Princess Mary's presence how she liked our village priests and icons and\r
+would joke about them.\r
+\r
+He continually hurt Princess Mary's feelings and tormented her, but it\r
+cost her no effort to forgive him. Could he be to blame toward her, or\r
+could her father, whom she knew loved her in spite of it all, be unjust?\r
+And what is justice? The princess never thought of that proud word\r
+"justice." All the complex laws of man centered for her in one clear and\r
+simple law--the law of love and self-sacrifice taught us by Him who\r
+lovingly suffered for mankind though He Himself was God. What had she to\r
+do with the justice or injustice of other people? She had to endure and\r
+love, and that she did.\r
+\r
+During the winter Prince Andrew had come to Bald Hills and had been gay,\r
+gentle, and more affectionate than Princess Mary had known him for a\r
+long time past. She felt that something had happened to him, but he said\r
+nothing to her about his love. Before he left he had a long talk with\r
+his father about something, and Princess Mary noticed that before his\r
+departure they were dissatisfied with one another.\r
+\r
+Soon after Prince Andrew had gone, Princess Mary wrote to her friend\r
+Julie Karagina in Petersburg, whom she had dreamed (as all girls dream)\r
+of marrying to her brother, and who was at that time in mourning for her\r
+own brother, killed in Turkey.\r
+\r
+Sorrow, it seems, is our common lot, my dear, tender friend Julie.\r
+\r
+Your loss is so terrible that I can only explain it to myself as a\r
+special providence of God who, loving you, wishes to try you and your\r
+excellent mother. Oh, my friend! Religion, and religion alone, can--I\r
+will not say comfort us--but save us from despair. Religion alone can\r
+explain to us what without its help man cannot comprehend: why, for what\r
+cause, kind and noble beings able to find happiness in life--not merely\r
+harming no one but necessary to the happiness of others--are called away\r
+to God, while cruel, useless, harmful persons, or such as are a burden\r
+to themselves and to others, are left living. The first death I saw, and\r
+one I shall never forget--that of my dear sister-in-law--left that\r
+impression on me. Just as you ask destiny why your splendid brother had\r
+to die, so I asked why that angel Lise, who not only never wronged\r
+anyone, but in whose soul there were never any unkind thoughts, had to\r
+die. And what do you think, dear friend? Five years have passed since\r
+then, and already I, with my petty understanding, begin to see clearly\r
+why she had to die, and in what way that death was but an expression of\r
+the infinite goodness of the Creator, whose every action, though\r
+generally incomprehensible to us, is but a manifestation of His infinite\r
+love for His creatures. Perhaps, I often think, she was too angelically\r
+innocent to have the strength to perform all a mother's duties. As a\r
+young wife she was irreproachable; perhaps she could not have been so as\r
+a mother. As it is, not only has she left us, and particularly Prince\r
+Andrew, with the purest regrets and memories, but probably she will\r
+there receive a place I dare not hope for myself. But not to speak of\r
+her alone, that early and terrible death has had the most beneficent\r
+influence on me and on my brother in spite of all our grief. Then, at\r
+the moment of our loss, these thoughts could not occur to me; I should\r
+then have dismissed them with horror, but now they are very clear and\r
+certain. I write all this to you, dear friend, only to convince you of\r
+the Gospel truth which has become for me a principle of life: not a\r
+single hair of our heads will fall without His will. And His will is\r
+governed only by infinite love for us, and so whatever befalls us is for\r
+our good.\r
+\r
+You ask whether we shall spend next winter in Moscow. In spite of my\r
+wish to see you, I do not think so and do not want to do so. You will be\r
+surprised to hear that the reason for this is Buonaparte! The case is\r
+this: my father's health is growing noticeably worse, he cannot stand\r
+any contradiction and is becoming irritable. This irritability is, as\r
+you know, chiefly directed to political questions. He cannot endure the\r
+notion that Buonaparte is negotiating on equal terms with all the\r
+sovereigns of Europe and particularly with our own, the grandson of the\r
+Great Catherine! As you know, I am quite indifferent to politics, but\r
+from my father's remarks and his talks with Michael Ivanovich I know all\r
+that goes on in the world and especially about the honors conferred on\r
+Buonaparte, who only at Bald Hills in the whole world, it seems, is not\r
+accepted as a great man, still less as Emperor of France. And my father\r
+cannot stand this. It seems to me that it is chiefly because of his\r
+political views that my father is reluctant to speak of going to Moscow;\r
+for he foresees the encounters that would result from his way of\r
+expressing his views regardless of anybody. All the benefit he might\r
+derive from a course of treatment he would lose as a result of the\r
+disputes about Buonaparte which would be inevitable. In any case it will\r
+be decided very shortly.\r
+\r
+Our family life goes on in the old way except for my brother Andrew's\r
+absence. He, as I wrote you before, has changed very much of late. After\r
+his sorrow he only this year quite recovered his spirits. He has again\r
+become as I used to know him when a child: kind, affectionate, with that\r
+heart of gold to which I know no equal. He has realized, it seems to me,\r
+that life is not over for him. But together with this mental change he\r
+has grown physically much weaker. He has become thinner and more\r
+nervous. I am anxious about him and glad he is taking this trip abroad\r
+which the doctors recommended long ago. I hope it will cure him. You\r
+write that in Petersburg he is spoken of as one of the most active,\r
+cultivated, and capable of the young men. Forgive my vanity as a\r
+relation, but I never doubted it. The good he has done to everybody\r
+here, from his peasants up to the gentry, is incalculable. On his\r
+arrival in Petersburg he received only his due. I always wonder at the\r
+way rumors fly from Petersburg to Moscow, especially such false ones as\r
+that you write about--I mean the report of my brother's betrothal to the\r
+little Rostova. I do not think my brother will ever marry again, and\r
+certainly not her; and this is why: first, I know that though he rarely\r
+speaks about the wife he has lost, the grief of that loss has gone too\r
+deep in his heart for him ever to decide to give her a successor and our\r
+little angel a stepmother. Secondly because, as far as I know, that girl\r
+is not the kind of girl who could please Prince Andrew. I do not think\r
+he would choose her for a wife, and frankly I do not wish it. But I am\r
+running on too long and am at the end of my second sheet. Good-bye, my\r
+dear friend. May God keep you in His holy and mighty care. My dear\r
+friend, Mademoiselle Bourienne, sends you kisses.\r
+\r
+MARY\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXVI\r
+\r
+In the middle of the summer Princess Mary received an unexpected letter\r
+from Prince Andrew in Switzerland in which he gave her strange and\r
+surprising news. He informed her of his engagement to Natasha Rostova.\r
+The whole letter breathed loving rapture for his betrothed and tender\r
+and confiding affection for his sister. He wrote that he had never loved\r
+as he did now and that only now did he understand and know what life\r
+was. He asked his sister to forgive him for not having told her of his\r
+resolve when he had last visited Bald Hills, though he had spoken of it\r
+to his father. He had not done so for fear Princess Mary should ask her\r
+father to give his consent, irritating him and having to bear the brunt\r
+of his displeasure without attaining her object. "Besides," he wrote,\r
+"the matter was not then so definitely settled as it is now. My father\r
+then insisted on a delay of a year and now already six months, half of\r
+that period, have passed, and my resolution is firmer than ever. If the\r
+doctors did not keep me here at the spas I should be back in Russia, but\r
+as it is I have to postpone my return for three months. You know me and\r
+my relations with Father. I want nothing from him. I have been and\r
+always shall be independent; but to go against his will and arouse his\r
+anger, now that he may perhaps remain with us such a short time, would\r
+destroy half my happiness. I am now writing to him about the same\r
+question, and beg you to choose a good moment to hand him the letter and\r
+to let me know how he looks at the whole matter and whether there is\r
+hope that he may consent to reduce the term by four months."\r
+\r
+After long hesitations, doubts, and prayers, Princess Mary gave the\r
+letter to her father. The next day the old prince said to her quietly:\r
+\r
+"Write and tell your brother to wait till I am dead.... It won't be\r
+long--I shall soon set him free."\r
+\r
+The princess was about to reply, but her father would not let her speak\r
+and, raising his voice more and more, cried:\r
+\r
+"Marry, marry, my boy!... A good family!... Clever people, eh? Rich, eh?\r
+Yes, a nice stepmother little Nicholas will have! Write and tell him\r
+that he may marry tomorrow if he likes. She will be little Nicholas'\r
+stepmother and I'll marry Bourienne!... Ha, ha, ha! He mustn't be\r
+without a stepmother either! Only one thing, no more women are wanted in\r
+my house--let him marry and live by himself. Perhaps you will go and\r
+live with him too?" he added, turning to Princess Mary. "Go in heavens\r
+name! Go out into the frost... the frost... the frost!"\r
+\r
+After this outburst the prince did not speak any more about the matter.\r
+But repressed vexation at his son's poor-spirited behavior found\r
+expression in his treatment of his daughter. To his former pretexts for\r
+irony a fresh one was now added--allusions to stepmothers and\r
+amiabilities to Mademoiselle Bourienne.\r
+\r
+"Why shouldn't I marry her?" he asked his daughter. "She'll make a\r
+splendid princess!"\r
+\r
+And latterly, to her surprise and bewilderment, Princess Mary noticed\r
+that her father was really associating more and more with the\r
+Frenchwoman. She wrote to Prince Andrew about the reception of his\r
+letter, but comforted him with hopes of reconciling their father to the\r
+idea.\r
+\r
+Little Nicholas and his education, her brother Andrew, and religion were\r
+Princess Mary's joys and consolations; but besides that, since everyone\r
+must have personal hopes, Princess Mary in the profoundest depths of her\r
+heart had a hidden dream and hope that supplied the chief consolation of\r
+her life. This comforting dream and hope were given her by God's folk--\r
+the half-witted and other pilgrims who visited her without the prince's\r
+knowledge. The longer she lived, the more experience and observation she\r
+had of life, the greater was her wonder at the short-sightedness of men\r
+who seek enjoyment and happiness here on earth: toiling, suffering,\r
+struggling, and harming one another, to obtain that impossible,\r
+visionary, sinful happiness. Prince Andrew had loved his wife, she died,\r
+but that was not enough: he wanted to bind his happiness to another\r
+woman. Her father objected to this because he wanted a more\r
+distinguished and wealthier match for Andrew. And they all struggled and\r
+suffered and tormented one another and injured their souls, their\r
+eternal souls, for the attainment of benefits which endure but for an\r
+instant. Not only do we know this ourselves, but Christ, the Son of God,\r
+came down to earth and told us that this life is but for a moment and is\r
+a probation; yet we cling to it and think to find happiness in it. "How\r
+is it that no one realizes this?" thought Princess Mary. "No one except\r
+these despised God's folk who, wallet on back, come to me by the back\r
+door, afraid of being seen by the prince, not for fear of ill-usage by\r
+him but for fear of causing him to sin. To leave family, home, and all\r
+the cares of worldly welfare, in order without clinging to anything to\r
+wander in hempen rags from place to place under an assumed name, doing\r
+no one any harm but praying for all--for those who drive one away as\r
+well as for those who protect one: higher than that life and truth there\r
+is no life or truth!"\r
+\r
+There was one pilgrim, a quiet pockmarked little woman of fifty called\r
+Theodosia, who for over thirty years had gone about barefoot and worn\r
+heavy chains. Princess Mary was particularly fond of her. Once, when in\r
+a room with a lamp dimly lit before the icon Theodosia was talking of\r
+her life, the thought that Theodosia alone had found the true path of\r
+life suddenly came to Princess Mary with such force that she resolved to\r
+become a pilgrim herself. When Theodosia had gone to sleep Princess Mary\r
+thought about this for a long time, and at last made up her mind that,\r
+strange as it might seem, she must go on a pilgrimage. She disclosed\r
+this thought to no one but to her confessor, Father Akinfi, the monk,\r
+and he approved of her intention. Under guise of a present for the\r
+pilgrims, Princess Mary prepared a pilgrim's complete costume for\r
+herself: a coarse smock, bast shoes, a rough coat, and a black kerchief.\r
+Often, approaching the chest of drawers containing this secret treasure,\r
+Princess Mary paused, uncertain whether the time had not already come to\r
+put her project into execution.\r
+\r
+Often, listening to the pilgrims' tales, she was so stimulated by their\r
+simple speech, mechanical to them but to her so full of deep meaning,\r
+that several times she was on the point of abandoning everything and\r
+running away from home. In imagination she already pictured herself by\r
+Theodosia's side, dressed in coarse rags, walking with a staff, a wallet\r
+on her back, along the dusty road, directing her wanderings from one\r
+saint's shrine to another, free from envy, earthly love, or desire, and\r
+reaching at last the place where there is no more sorrow or sighing, but\r
+eternal joy and bliss.\r
+\r
+"I shall come to a place and pray there, and before having time to get\r
+used to it or getting to love it, I shall go farther. I will go on till\r
+my legs fail, and I'll lie down and die somewhere, and shall at last\r
+reach that eternal, quiet haven, where there is neither sorrow nor\r
+sighing..." thought Princess Mary.\r
+\r
+But afterwards, when she saw her father and especially little Koko\r
+(Nicholas), her resolve weakened. She wept quietly, and felt that she\r
+was a sinner who loved her father and little nephew more than God.\r
+\r
+BOOK SEVEN: 1810 - 11\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+The Bible legend tells us that the absence of labor--idleness--was a\r
+condition of the first man's blessedness before the Fall. Fallen man has\r
+retained a love of idleness, but the curse weighs on the race not only\r
+because we have to seek our bread in the sweat of our brows, but because\r
+our moral nature is such that we cannot be both idle and at ease. An\r
+inner voice tells us we are in the wrong if we are idle. If man could\r
+find a state in which he felt that though idle he was fulfilling his\r
+duty, he would have found one of the conditions of man's primitive\r
+blessedness. And such a state of obligatory and irreproachable idleness\r
+is the lot of a whole class--the military. The chief attraction of\r
+military service has consisted and will consist in this compulsory and\r
+irreproachable idleness.\r
+\r
+Nicholas Rostov experienced this blissful condition to the full when,\r
+after 1807, he continued to serve in the Pavlograd regiment, in which he\r
+already commanded the squadron he had taken over from Denisov.\r
+\r
+Rostov had become a bluff, good-natured fellow, whom his Moscow\r
+acquaintances would have considered rather bad form, but who was liked\r
+and respected by his comrades, subordinates, and superiors, and was well\r
+contented with his life. Of late, in 1809, he found in letters from home\r
+more frequent complaints from his mother that their affairs were falling\r
+into greater and greater disorder, and that it was time for him to come\r
+back to gladden and comfort his old parents.\r
+\r
+Reading these letters, Nicholas felt a dread of their wanting to take\r
+him away from surroundings in which, protected from all the\r
+entanglements of life, he was living so calmly and quietly. He felt that\r
+sooner or later he would have to re-enter that whirlpool of life, with\r
+its embarrassments and affairs to be straightened out, its accounts with\r
+stewards, quarrels, and intrigues, its ties, society, and with Sonya's\r
+love and his promise to her. It was all dreadfully difficult and\r
+complicated; and he replied to his mother in cold, formal letters in\r
+French, beginning: "My dear Mamma," and ending: "Your obedient son,"\r
+which said nothing of when he would return. In 1810 he received letters\r
+from his parents, in which they told him of Natasha's engagement to\r
+Bolkonski, and that the wedding would be in a year's time because the\r
+old prince made difficulties. This letter grieved and mortified\r
+Nicholas. In the first place he was sorry that Natasha, for whom he\r
+cared more than for anyone else in the family, should be lost to the\r
+home; and secondly, from his hussar point of view, he regretted not to\r
+have been there to show that fellow Bolkonski that connection with him\r
+was no such great honor after all, and that if he loved Natasha he might\r
+dispense with permission from his dotard father. For a moment he\r
+hesitated whether he should not apply for leave in order to see Natasha\r
+before she was married, but then came the maneuvers, and considerations\r
+about Sonya and about the confusion of their affairs, and Nicholas again\r
+put it off. But in the spring of that year, he received a letter from\r
+his mother, written without his father's knowledge, and that letter\r
+persuaded him to return. She wrote that if he did not come and take\r
+matters in hand, their whole property would be sold by auction and they\r
+would all have to go begging. The count was so weak, and trusted Mitenka\r
+so much, and was so good-natured, that everybody took advantage of him\r
+and things were going from bad to worse. "For God's sake, I implore you,\r
+come at once if you do not wish to make me and the whole family\r
+wretched," wrote the countess.\r
+\r
+This letter touched Nicholas. He had that common sense of a matter-of-\r
+fact man which showed him what he ought to do.\r
+\r
+The right thing now was, if not to retire from the service, at any rate\r
+to go home on leave. Why he had to go he did not know; but after his\r
+after-dinner nap he gave orders to saddle Mars, an extremely vicious\r
+gray stallion that had not been ridden for a long time, and when he\r
+returned with the horse all in a lather, he informed Lavrushka\r
+(Denisov's servant who had remained with him) and his comrades who\r
+turned up in the evening that he was applying for leave and was going\r
+home. Difficult and strange as it was for him to reflect that he would\r
+go away without having heard from the staff--and this interested him\r
+extremely--whether he was promoted to a captaincy or would receive the\r
+Order of St. Anne for the last maneuvers; strange as it was to think\r
+that he would go away without having sold his three roans to the Polish\r
+Count Golukhovski, who was bargaining for the horses Rostov had betted\r
+he would sell for two thousand rubles; incomprehensible as it seemed\r
+that the ball the hussars were giving in honor of the Polish\r
+Mademoiselle Przazdziecka (out of rivalry to the uhlans who had given\r
+one in honor of their Polish Mademoiselle Borzozowska) would take place\r
+without him--he knew he must go away from this good, bright world to\r
+somewhere where everything was stupid and confused. A week later he\r
+obtained his leave. His hussar comrades--not only those of his own\r
+regiment, but the whole brigade--gave Rostov a dinner to which the\r
+subscription was fifteen rubles a head, and at which there were two\r
+bands and two choirs of singers. Rostov danced the Trepak with Major\r
+Basov; the tipsy officers tossed, embraced, and dropped Rostov; the\r
+soldiers of the third squadron tossed him too, and shouted "hurrah!" and\r
+then they put him in his sleigh and escorted him as far as the first\r
+post station.\r
+\r
+During the first half of the journey--from Kremenchug to Kiev--all\r
+Rostov's thoughts, as is usual in such cases, were behind him, with the\r
+squadron; but when he had gone more than halfway he began to forget his\r
+three roans and Dozhoyveyko, his quartermaster, and to wonder anxiously\r
+how things would be at Otradnoe and what he would find there. Thoughts\r
+of home grew stronger the nearer he approached it--far stronger, as\r
+though this feeling of his was subject to the law by which the force of\r
+attraction is in inverse proportion to the square of the distance. At\r
+the last post station before Otradnoe he gave the driver a three-ruble\r
+tip, and on arriving he ran breathlessly, like a boy, up the steps of\r
+his home.\r
+\r
+After the rapture of meeting, and after that odd feeling of unsatisfied\r
+expectation--the feeling that "everything is just the same, so why did I\r
+hurry?"--Nicholas began to settle down in his old home world. His father\r
+and mother were much the same, only a little older. What was new in them\r
+was a certain uneasiness and occasional discord, which there used not to\r
+be, and which, as Nicholas soon found out, was due to the bad state of\r
+their affairs. Sonya was nearly twenty; she had stopped growing prettier\r
+and promised nothing more than she was already, but that was enough. She\r
+exhaled happiness and love from the time Nicholas returned, and the\r
+faithful, unalterable love of this girl had a gladdening effect on him.\r
+Petya and Natasha surprised Nicholas most. Petya was a big handsome boy\r
+of thirteen, merry, witty, and mischievous, with a voice that was\r
+already breaking. As for Natasha, for a long while Nicholas wondered and\r
+laughed whenever he looked at her.\r
+\r
+"You're not the same at all," he said.\r
+\r
+"How? Am I uglier?"\r
+\r
+"On the contrary, but what dignity? A princess!" he whispered to her.\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes, yes!" cried Natasha, joyfully.\r
+\r
+She told him about her romance with Prince Andrew and of his visit to\r
+Otradnoe and showed him his last letter.\r
+\r
+"Well, are you glad?" Natasha asked. "I am so tranquil and happy now."\r
+\r
+"Very glad," answered Nicholas. "He is an excellent fellow.... And are\r
+you very much in love?"\r
+\r
+"How shall I put it?" replied Natasha. "I was in love with Boris, with\r
+my teacher, and with Denisov, but this is quite different. I feel at\r
+peace and settled. I know that no better man than he exists, and I am\r
+calm and contented now. Not at all as before."\r
+\r
+Nicholas expressed his disapproval of the postponement of the marriage\r
+for a year; but Natasha attacked her brother with exasperation, proving\r
+to him that it could not be otherwise, and that it would be a bad thing\r
+to enter a family against the father's will, and that she herself wished\r
+it so.\r
+\r
+"You don't at all understand," she said.\r
+\r
+Nicholas was silent and agreed with her.\r
+\r
+Her brother often wondered as he looked at her. She did not seem at all\r
+like a girl in love and parted from her affianced husband. She was even-\r
+tempered and calm and quite as cheerful as of old. This amazed Nicholas\r
+and even made him regard Bolkonski's courtship skeptically. He could not\r
+believe that her fate was sealed, especially as he had not seen her with\r
+Prince Andrew. It always seemed to him that there was something not\r
+quite right about this intended marriage.\r
+\r
+"Why this delay? Why no betrothal?" he thought. Once, when he had\r
+touched on this topic with his mother, he discovered, to his surprise\r
+and somewhat to his satisfaction, that in the depth of her soul she too\r
+had doubts about this marriage.\r
+\r
+"You see he writes," said she, showing her son a letter of Prince\r
+Andrew's, with that latent grudge a mother always has in regard to a\r
+daughter's future married happiness, "he writes that he won't come\r
+before December. What can be keeping him? Illness, probably! His health\r
+is very delicate. Don't tell Natasha. And don't attach importance to her\r
+being so bright: that's because she's living through the last days of\r
+her girlhood, but I know what she is like every time we receive a letter\r
+from him! However, God grant that everything turns out well!" (She\r
+always ended with these words.) "He is an excellent man!"\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+After reaching home Nicholas was at first serious and even dull. He was\r
+worried by the impending necessity of interfering in the stupid business\r
+matters for which his mother had called him home. To throw off this\r
+burden as quickly as possible, on the third day after his arrival he\r
+went, angry and scowling and without answering questions as to where he\r
+was going, to Mitenka's lodge and demanded an account of everything. But\r
+what an account of everything might be Nicholas knew even less than the\r
+frightened and bewildered Mitenka. The conversation and the examination\r
+of the accounts with Mitenka did not last long. The village elder, a\r
+peasant delegate, and the village clerk, who were waiting in the\r
+passage, heard with fear and delight first the young count's voice\r
+roaring and snapping and rising louder and louder, and then words of\r
+abuse, dreadful words, ejaculated one after the other.\r
+\r
+"Robber!... Ungrateful wretch!... I'll hack the dog to pieces! I'm not\r
+my father!... Robbing us!..." and so on.\r
+\r
+Then with no less fear and delight they saw how the young count, red in\r
+the face and with bloodshot eyes, dragged Mitenka out by the scruff of\r
+the neck and applied his foot and knee to his behind with great agility\r
+at convenient moments between the words, shouting, "Be off! Never let me\r
+see your face here again, you villain!"\r
+\r
+Mitenka flew headlong down the six steps and ran away into the\r
+shrubbery. (This shrubbery was a well-known haven of refuge for culprits\r
+at Otradnoe. Mitenka himself, returning tipsy from the town, used to\r
+hide there, and many of the residents at Otradnoe, hiding from Mitenka,\r
+knew of its protective qualities.)\r
+\r
+Mitenka's wife and sisters-in-law thrust their heads and frightened\r
+faces out of the door of a room where a bright samovar was boiling and\r
+where the steward's high bedstead stood with its patchwork quilt.\r
+\r
+The young count paid no heed to them, but, breathing hard, passed by\r
+with resolute strides and went into the house.\r
+\r
+The countess, who heard at once from the maids what had happened at the\r
+lodge, was calmed by the thought that now their affairs would certainly\r
+improve, but on the other hand felt anxious as to the effect this\r
+excitement might have on her son. She went several times to his door on\r
+tiptoe and listened, as he lighted one pipe after another.\r
+\r
+Next day the old count called his son aside and, with an embarrassed\r
+smile, said to him:\r
+\r
+"But you know, my dear boy, it's a pity you got excited! Mitenka has\r
+told me all about it."\r
+\r
+"I knew," thought Nicholas, "that I should never understand anything in\r
+this crazy world."\r
+\r
+"You were angry that he had not entered those 700 rubles. But they were\r
+carried forward--and you did not look at the other page."\r
+\r
+"Papa, he is a blackguard and a thief! I know he is! And what I have\r
+done, I have done; but, if you like, I won't speak to him again."\r
+\r
+"No, my dear boy" (the count, too, felt embarrassed. He knew he had\r
+mismanaged his wife's property and was to blame toward his children, but\r
+he did not know how to remedy it). "No, I beg you to attend to the\r
+business. I am old. I..."\r
+\r
+"No, Papa. Forgive me if I have caused you unpleasantness. I understand\r
+it all less than you do."\r
+\r
+"Devil take all these peasants, and money matters, and carryings forward\r
+from page to page," he thought. "I used to understand what a 'corner'\r
+and the stakes at cards meant, but carrying forward to another page I\r
+don't understand at all," said he to himself, and after that he did not\r
+meddle in business affairs. But once the countess called her son and\r
+informed him that she had a promissory note from Anna Mikhaylovna for\r
+two thousand rubles, and asked him what he thought of doing with it.\r
+\r
+"This," answered Nicholas. "You say it rests with me. Well, I don't like\r
+Anna Mikhaylovna and I don't like Boris, but they were our friends and\r
+poor. Well then, this!" and he tore up the note, and by so doing caused\r
+the old countess to weep tears of joy. After that, young Rostov took no\r
+further part in any business affairs, but devoted himself with\r
+passionate enthusiasm to what was to him a new pursuit--the chase--for\r
+which his father kept a large establishment.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+The weather was already growing wintry and morning frosts congealed an\r
+earth saturated by autumn rains. The verdure had thickened and its\r
+bright green stood out sharply against the brownish strips of winter rye\r
+trodden down by the cattle, and against the pale-yellow stubble of the\r
+spring buckwheat. The wooded ravines and the copses, which at the end of\r
+August had still been green islands amid black fields and stubble, had\r
+become golden and bright-red islands amid the green winter rye. The\r
+hares had already half changed their summer coats, the fox cubs were\r
+beginning to scatter, and the young wolves were bigger than dogs. It was\r
+the best time of the year for the chase. The hounds of that ardent young\r
+sportsman Rostov had not merely reached hard winter condition, but were\r
+so jaded that at a meeting of the huntsmen it was decided to give them a\r
+three days' rest and then, on the sixteenth of September, to go on a\r
+distant expedition, starting from the oak grove where there was an\r
+undisturbed litter of wolf cubs.\r
+\r
+All that day the hounds remained at home. It was frosty and the air was\r
+sharp, but toward evening the sky became overcast and it began to thaw.\r
+On the fifteenth, when young Rostov, in his dressing gown, looked out of\r
+the window, he saw it was an unsurpassable morning for hunting: it was\r
+as if the sky were melting and sinking to the earth without any wind.\r
+The only motion in the air was that of the dripping, microscopic\r
+particles of drizzling mist. The bare twigs in the garden were hung with\r
+transparent drops which fell on the freshly fallen leaves. The earth in\r
+the kitchen garden looked wet and black and glistened like poppy seed\r
+and at a short distance merged into the dull, moist veil of mist.\r
+Nicholas went out into the wet and muddy porch. There was a smell of\r
+decaying leaves and of dog. Milka, a black-spotted, broad-haunched bitch\r
+with prominent black eyes, got up on seeing her master, stretched her\r
+hind legs, lay down like a hare, and then suddenly jumped up and licked\r
+him right on his nose and mustache. Another borzoi, a dog, catching\r
+sight of his master from the garden path, arched his back and, rushing\r
+headlong toward the porch with lifted tail, began rubbing himself\r
+against his legs.\r
+\r
+"O-hoy!" came at that moment, that inimitable huntsman's call which\r
+unites the deepest bass with the shrillest tenor, and round the corner\r
+came Daniel the head huntsman and head kennelman, a gray, wrinkled old\r
+man with hair cut straight over his forehead, Ukrainian fashion, a long\r
+bent whip in his hand, and that look of independence and scorn of\r
+everything that is only seen in huntsmen. He doffed his Circassian cap\r
+to his master and looked at him scornfully. This scorn was not offensive\r
+to his master. Nicholas knew that this Daniel, disdainful of everybody\r
+and who considered himself above them, was all the same his serf and\r
+huntsman.\r
+\r
+"Daniel!" Nicholas said timidly, conscious at the sight of the weather,\r
+the hounds, and the huntsman that he was being carried away by that\r
+irresistible passion for sport which makes a man forget all his previous\r
+resolutions, as a lover forgets in the presence of his mistress.\r
+\r
+"What orders, your excellency?" said the huntsman in his deep bass, deep\r
+as a proto-deacon's and hoarse with hallooing--and two flashing black\r
+eyes gazed from under his brows at his master, who was silent. "Can you\r
+resist it?" those eyes seemed to be asking.\r
+\r
+"It's a good day, eh? For a hunt and a gallop, eh?" asked Nicholas,\r
+scratching Milka behind the ears.\r
+\r
+Daniel did not answer, but winked instead.\r
+\r
+"I sent Uvarka at dawn to listen," his bass boomed out after a minute's\r
+pause. "He says she's moved them into the Otradnoe enclosure. They were\r
+howling there." (This meant that the she-wolf, about whom they both\r
+knew, had moved with her cubs to the Otradnoe copse, a small place a\r
+mile and a half from the house.)\r
+\r
+"We ought to go, don't you think so?" said Nicholas. "Come to me with\r
+Uvarka."\r
+\r
+"As you please."\r
+\r
+"Then put off feeding them."\r
+\r
+"Yes, sir."\r
+\r
+Five minutes later Daniel and Uvarka were standing in Nicholas' big\r
+study. Though Daniel was not a big man, to see him in a room was like\r
+seeing a horse or a bear on the floor among the furniture and\r
+surroundings of human life. Daniel himself felt this, and as usual stood\r
+just inside the door, trying to speak softly and not move, for fear of\r
+breaking something in the master's apartment, and he hastened to say all\r
+that was necessary so as to get from under that ceiling, out into the\r
+open under the sky once more.\r
+\r
+Having finished his inquiries and extorted from Daniel an opinion that\r
+the hounds were fit (Daniel himself wished to go hunting), Nicholas\r
+ordered the horses to be saddled. But just as Daniel was about to go\r
+Natasha came in with rapid steps, not having done up her hair or\r
+finished dressing and with her old nurse's big shawl wrapped round her.\r
+Petya ran in at the same time.\r
+\r
+"You are going?" asked Natasha. "I knew you would! Sonya said you\r
+wouldn't go, but I knew that today is the sort of day when you couldn't\r
+help going."\r
+\r
+"Yes, we are going," replied Nicholas reluctantly, for today, as he\r
+intended to hunt seriously, he did not want to take Natasha and Petya.\r
+"We are going, but only wolf hunting: it would be dull for you."\r
+\r
+"You know it is my greatest pleasure," said Natasha. "It's not fair; you\r
+are going by yourself, are having the horses saddled and said nothing to\r
+us about it."\r
+\r
+"'No barrier bars a Russian's path'--we'll go!" shouted Petya.\r
+\r
+"But you can't. Mamma said you mustn't," said Nicholas to Natasha.\r
+\r
+"Yes, I'll go. I shall certainly go," said Natasha decisively. "Daniel,\r
+tell them to saddle for us, and Michael must come with my dogs," she\r
+added to the huntsman.\r
+\r
+It seemed to Daniel irksome and improper to be in a room at all, but to\r
+have anything to do with a young lady seemed to him impossible. He cast\r
+down his eyes and hurried out as if it were none of his business,\r
+careful as he went not to inflict any accidental injury on the young\r
+lady.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+The old count, who had always kept up an enormous hunting establishment\r
+but had now handed it all completely over to his son's care, being in\r
+very good spirits on this fifteenth of September, prepared to go out\r
+with the others.\r
+\r
+In an hour's time the whole hunting party was at the porch. Nicholas,\r
+with a stern and serious air which showed that now was no time for\r
+attending to trifles, went past Natasha and Petya who were trying to\r
+tell him something. He had a look at all the details of the hunt, sent a\r
+pack of hounds and huntsmen on ahead to find the quarry, mounted his\r
+chestnut Donets, and whistling to his own leash of borzois, set off\r
+across the threshing ground to a field leading to the Otradnoe wood. The\r
+old count's horse, a sorrel gelding called Viflyanka, was led by the\r
+groom in attendance on him, while the count himself was to drive in a\r
+small trap straight to a spot reserved for him.\r
+\r
+They were taking fifty-four hounds, with six hunt attendants and\r
+whippers-in. Besides the family, there were eight borzoi kennelmen and\r
+more than forty borzois, so that, with the borzois on the leash\r
+belonging to members of the family, there were about a hundred and\r
+thirty dogs and twenty horsemen.\r
+\r
+Each dog knew its master and its call. Each man in the hunt knew his\r
+business, his place, what he had to do. As soon as they had passed the\r
+fence they all spread out evenly and quietly, without noise or talk,\r
+along the road and field leading to the Otradnoe covert.\r
+\r
+The horses stepped over the field as over a thick carpet, now and then\r
+splashing into puddles as they crossed a road. The misty sky still\r
+seemed to descend evenly and imperceptibly toward the earth, the air was\r
+still, warm, and silent. Occasionally the whistle of a huntsman, the\r
+snort of a horse, the crack of a whip, or the whine of a straggling\r
+hound could be heard.\r
+\r
+When they had gone a little less than a mile, five more riders with dogs\r
+appeared out of the mist, approaching the Rostovs. In front rode a\r
+fresh-looking, handsome old man with a large gray mustache.\r
+\r
+"Good morning, Uncle!" said Nicholas, when the old man drew near.\r
+\r
+"That's it. Come on!... I was sure of it," began "Uncle." (He was a\r
+distant relative of the Rostovs', a man of small means, and their\r
+neighbor.) "I knew you wouldn't be able to resist it and it's a good\r
+thing you're going. That's it! Come on!" (This was "Uncle's" favorite\r
+expression.) "Take the covert at once, for my Girchik says the Ilagins\r
+are at Korniki with their hounds. That's it. Come on!... They'll take\r
+the cubs from under your very nose."\r
+\r
+"That's where I'm going. Shall we join up our packs?" asked Nicholas.\r
+\r
+The hounds were joined into one pack, and "Uncle" and Nicholas rode on\r
+side by side. Natasha, muffled up in shawls which did not hide her eager\r
+face and shining eyes, galloped up to them. She was followed by Petya\r
+who always kept close to her, by Michael, a huntsman, and by a groom\r
+appointed to look after her. Petya, who was laughing, whipped and pulled\r
+at his horse. Natasha sat easily and confidently on her black Arabchik\r
+and reined him in without effort with a firm hand.\r
+\r
+"Uncle" looked round disapprovingly at Petya and Natasha. He did not\r
+like to combine frivolity with the serious business of hunting.\r
+\r
+"Good morning, Uncle! We are going too!" shouted Petya.\r
+\r
+"Good morning, good morning! But don't go overriding the hounds," said\r
+"Uncle" sternly.\r
+\r
+"Nicholas, what a fine dog Trunila is! He knew me," said Natasha,\r
+referring to her favorite hound.\r
+\r
+"In the first place, Trunila is not a 'dog,' but a harrier," thought\r
+Nicholas, and looked sternly at his sister, trying to make her feel the\r
+distance that ought to separate them at that moment. Natasha understood\r
+it.\r
+\r
+"You mustn't think we'll be in anyone's way, Uncle," she said. "We'll go\r
+to our places and won't budge."\r
+\r
+"A good thing too, little countess," said "Uncle," "only mind you don't\r
+fall off your horse," he added, "because--that's it, come on!--you've\r
+nothing to hold on to."\r
+\r
+The oasis of the Otradnoe covert came in sight a few hundred yards off,\r
+the huntsmen were already nearing it. Rostov, having finally settled\r
+with "Uncle" where they should set on the hounds, and having shown\r
+Natasha where she was to stand--a spot where nothing could possibly run\r
+out--went round above the ravine.\r
+\r
+"Well, nephew, you're going for a big wolf," said "Uncle." "Mind and\r
+don't let her slip!"\r
+\r
+"That's as may happen," answered Rostov. "Karay, here!" he shouted,\r
+answering "Uncle's" remark by this call to his borzoi. Karay was a\r
+shaggy old dog with a hanging jowl, famous for having tackled a big wolf\r
+unaided. They all took up their places.\r
+\r
+The old count, knowing his son's ardor in the hunt, hurried so as not to\r
+be late, and the huntsmen had not yet reached their places when Count\r
+Ilya Rostov, cheerful, flushed, and with quivering cheeks, drove up with\r
+his black horses over the winter rye to the place reserved for him,\r
+where a wolf might come out. Having straightened his coat and fastened\r
+on his hunting knives and horn, he mounted his good, sleek, well-fed,\r
+and comfortable horse, Viflyanka, which was turning gray, like himself.\r
+His horses and trap were sent home. Count Ilya Rostov, though not at\r
+heart a keen sportsman, knew the rules of the hunt well, and rode to the\r
+bushy edge of the road where he was to stand, arranged his reins,\r
+settled himself in the saddle, and, feeling that he was ready, looked\r
+about with a smile.\r
+\r
+Beside him was Simon Chekmar, his personal attendant, an old horseman\r
+now somewhat stiff in the saddle. Chekmar held in leash three formidable\r
+wolfhounds, who had, however, grown fat like their master and his horse.\r
+Two wise old dogs lay down unleashed. Some hundred paces farther along\r
+the edge of the wood stood Mitka, the count's other groom, a daring\r
+horseman and keen rider to hounds. Before the hunt, by old custom, the\r
+count had drunk a silver cupful of mulled brandy, taken a snack, and\r
+washed it down with half a bottle of his favorite Bordeaux.\r
+\r
+He was somewhat flushed with the wine and the drive. His eyes were\r
+rather moist and glittered more than usual, and as he sat in his saddle,\r
+wrapped up in his fur coat, he looked like a child taken out for an\r
+outing.\r
+\r
+The thin, hollow-cheeked Chekmar, having got everything ready, kept\r
+glancing at his master with whom he had lived on the best of terms for\r
+thirty years, and understanding the mood he was in expected a pleasant\r
+chat. A third person rode up circumspectly through the wood (it was\r
+plain that he had had a lesson) and stopped behind the count. This\r
+person was a gray-bearded old man in a woman's cloak, with a tall peaked\r
+cap on his head. He was the buffoon, who went by a woman's name,\r
+Nastasya Ivanovna.\r
+\r
+"Well, Nastasya Ivanovna!" whispered the count, winking at him. "If you\r
+scare away the beast, Daniel'll give it you!"\r
+\r
+"I know a thing or two myself!" said Nastasya Ivanovna.\r
+\r
+"Hush!" whispered the count and turned to Simon. "Have you seen the\r
+young countess?" he asked. "Where is she?"\r
+\r
+"With young Count Peter, by the Zharov rank grass," answered Simon,\r
+smiling. "Though she's a lady, she's very fond of hunting."\r
+\r
+"And you're surprised at the way she rides, Simon, eh?" said the count.\r
+"She's as good as many a man!"\r
+\r
+"Of course! It's marvelous. So bold, so easy!"\r
+\r
+"And Nicholas? Where is he? By the Lyadov upland, isn't he?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, sir. He knows where to stand. He understands the matter so well\r
+that Daniel and I are often quite astounded," said Simon, well knowing\r
+what would please his master.\r
+\r
+"Rides well, eh? And how well he looks on his horse, eh?"\r
+\r
+"A perfect picture! How he chased a fox out of the rank grass by the\r
+Zavarzinsk thicket the other day! Leaped a fearful place; what a sight\r
+when they rushed from the covert... the horse worth a thousand rubles\r
+and the rider beyond all price! Yes, one would have to search far to\r
+find another as smart."\r
+\r
+"To search far..." repeated the count, evidently sorry Simon had not\r
+said more. "To search far," he said, turning back the skirt of his coat\r
+to get at his snuffbox.\r
+\r
+"The other day when he came out from Mass in full uniform, Michael\r
+Sidorych..." Simon did not finish, for on the still air he had\r
+distinctly caught the music of the hunt with only two or three hounds\r
+giving tongue. He bent down his head and listened, shaking a warning\r
+finger at his master. "They are on the scent of the cubs..." he\r
+whispered, "straight to the Lyadov uplands."\r
+\r
+The count, forgetting to smooth out the smile on his face, looked into\r
+the distance straight before him, down the narrow open space, holding\r
+the snuffbox in his hand but not taking any. After the cry of the hounds\r
+came the deep tones of the wolf call from Daniel's hunting horn; the\r
+pack joined the first three hounds and they could be heard in full cry,\r
+with that peculiar lift in the note that indicates that they are after a\r
+wolf. The whippers-in no longer set on the hounds, but changed to the\r
+cry of ulyulyu, and above the others rose Daniel's voice, now a deep\r
+bass, now piercingly shrill. His voice seemed to fill the whole wood and\r
+carried far beyond out into the open field.\r
+\r
+After listening a few moments in silence, the count and his attendant\r
+convinced themselves that the hounds had separated into two packs: the\r
+sound of the larger pack, eagerly giving tongue, began to die away in\r
+the distance, the other pack rushed by the wood past the count, and it\r
+was with this that Daniel's voice was heard calling ulyulyu. The sounds\r
+of both packs mingled and broke apart again, but both were becoming more\r
+distant.\r
+\r
+Simon sighed and stooped to straighten the leash a young borzoi had\r
+entangled; the count too sighed and, noticing the snuffbox in his hand,\r
+opened it and took a pinch. "Back!" cried Simon to a borzoi that was\r
+pushing forward out of the wood. The count started and dropped the\r
+snuffbox. Nastasya Ivanovna dismounted to pick it up. The count and\r
+Simon were looking at him.\r
+\r
+Then, unexpectedly, as often happens, the sound of the hunt suddenly\r
+approached, as if the hounds in full cry and Daniel ulyulyuing were just\r
+in front of them.\r
+\r
+The count turned and saw on his right Mitka staring at him with eyes\r
+starting out of his head, raising his cap and pointing before him to the\r
+other side.\r
+\r
+"Look out!" he shouted, in a voice plainly showing that he had long\r
+fretted to utter that word, and letting the borzois slip he galloped\r
+toward the count.\r
+\r
+The count and Simon galloped out of the wood and saw on their left a\r
+wolf which, softly swaying from side to side, was coming at a quiet lope\r
+farther to the left to the very place where they were standing. The\r
+angry borzois whined and getting free of the leash rushed past the\r
+horses' feet at the wolf.\r
+\r
+The wolf paused, turned its heavy forehead toward the dogs awkwardly,\r
+like a man suffering from the quinsy, and, still slightly swaying from\r
+side to side, gave a couple of leaps and with a swish of its tail\r
+disappeared into the skirt of the wood. At the same instant, with a cry\r
+like a wail, first one hound, then another, and then another, sprang\r
+helter-skelter from the wood opposite and the whole pack rushed across\r
+the field toward the very spot where the wolf had disappeared. The hazel\r
+bushes parted behind the hounds and Daniel's chestnut horse appeared,\r
+dark with sweat. On its long back sat Daniel, hunched forward, capless,\r
+his disheveled gray hair hanging over his flushed, perspiring face.\r
+\r
+"Ulyulyulyu! ulyulyu!..." he cried. When he caught sight of the count\r
+his eyes flashed lightning.\r
+\r
+"Blast you!" he shouted, holding up his whip threateningly at the count.\r
+\r
+"You've let the wolf go!... What sportsmen!" and as if scorning to say\r
+more to the frightened and shamefaced count, he lashed the heaving\r
+flanks of his sweating chestnut gelding with all the anger the count had\r
+aroused and flew off after the hounds. The count, like a punished\r
+schoolboy, looked round, trying by a smile to win Simon's sympathy for\r
+his plight. But Simon was no longer there. He was galloping round by the\r
+bushes while the field was coming up on both sides, all trying to head\r
+the wolf, but it vanished into the wood before they could do so.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+Nicholas Rostov meanwhile remained at his post, waiting for the wolf. By\r
+the way the hunt approached and receded, by the cries of the dogs whose\r
+notes were familiar to him, by the way the voices of the huntsmen\r
+approached, receded, and rose, he realized what was happening at the\r
+copse. He knew that young and old wolves were there, that the hounds had\r
+separated into two packs, that somewhere a wolf was being chased, and\r
+that something had gone wrong. He expected the wolf to come his way any\r
+moment. He made thousands of different conjectures as to where and from\r
+what side the beast would come and how he would set upon it. Hope\r
+alternated with despair. Several times he addressed a prayer to God that\r
+the wolf should come his way. He prayed with that passionate and\r
+shamefaced feeling with which men pray at moments of great excitement\r
+arising from trivial causes. "What would it be to Thee to do this for\r
+me?" he said to God. "I know Thou art great, and that it is a sin to ask\r
+this of Thee, but for God's sake do let the old wolf come my way and let\r
+Karay spring at it--in sight of 'Uncle' who is watching from over there-\r
+-and seize it by the throat in a death grip!" A thousand times during\r
+that half-hour Rostov cast eager and restless glances over the edge of\r
+the wood, with the two scraggy oaks rising above the aspen undergrowth\r
+and the gully with its water-worn side and "Uncle's" cap just visible\r
+above the bush on his right.\r
+\r
+"No, I shan't have such luck," thought Rostov, "yet what wouldn't it be\r
+worth! It is not to be! Everywhere, at cards and in war, I am always\r
+unlucky." Memories of Austerlitz and of Dolokhov flashed rapidly and\r
+clearly through his mind. "Only once in my life to get an old wolf, I\r
+want only that!" thought he, straining eyes and ears and looking to the\r
+left and then to the right and listening to the slightest variation of\r
+note in the cries of the dogs.\r
+\r
+Again he looked to the right and saw something running toward him across\r
+the deserted field. "No, it can't be!" thought Rostov, taking a deep\r
+breath, as a man does at the coming of something long hoped for. The\r
+height of happiness was reached--and so simply, without warning, or\r
+noise, or display, that Rostov could not believe his eyes and remained\r
+in doubt for over a second. The wolf ran forward and jumped heavily over\r
+a gully that lay in her path. She was an old animal with a gray back and\r
+big reddish belly. She ran without hurry, evidently feeling sure that no\r
+one saw her. Rostov, holding his breath, looked round at the borzois.\r
+They stood or lay not seeing the wolf or understanding the situation.\r
+Old Karay had turned his head and was angrily searching for fleas,\r
+baring his yellow teeth and snapping at his hind legs.\r
+\r
+"Ulyulyulyu!" whispered Rostov, pouting his lips. The borzois jumped up,\r
+jerking the rings of the leashes and pricking their ears. Karay finished\r
+scratching his hindquarters and, cocking his ears, got up with quivering\r
+tail from which tufts of matted hair hung down.\r
+\r
+"Shall I loose them or not?" Nicholas asked himself as the wolf\r
+approached him coming from the copse. Suddenly the wolf's whole\r
+physiognomy changed: she shuddered, seeing what she had probably never\r
+seen before--human eyes fixed upon her--and turning her head a little\r
+toward Rostov, she paused.\r
+\r
+"Back or forward? Eh, no matter, forward..." the wolf seemed to say to\r
+herself, and she moved forward without again looking round and with a\r
+quiet, long, easy yet resolute lope.\r
+\r
+"Ulyulyu!" cried Nicholas, in a voice not his own, and of its own accord\r
+his good horse darted headlong downhill, leaping over gullies to head\r
+off the wolf, and the borzois passed it, running faster still. Nicholas\r
+did not hear his own cry nor feel that he was galloping, nor see the\r
+borzois, nor the ground over which he went: he saw only the wolf, who,\r
+increasing her speed, bounded on in the same direction along the hollow.\r
+The first to come into view was Milka, with her black markings and\r
+powerful quarters, gaining upon the wolf. Nearer and nearer... now she\r
+was ahead of it; but the wolf turned its head to face her, and instead\r
+of putting on speed as she usually did Milka suddenly raised her tail\r
+and stiffened her forelegs.\r
+\r
+"Ulyulyulyulyu!" shouted Nicholas.\r
+\r
+The reddish Lyubim rushed forward from behind Milka, sprang impetuously\r
+at the wolf, and seized it by its hindquarters, but immediately jumped\r
+aside in terror. The wolf crouched, gnashed her teeth, and again rose\r
+and bounded forward, followed at the distance of a couple of feet by all\r
+the borzois, who did not get any closer to her.\r
+\r
+"She'll get away! No, it's impossible!" thought Nicholas, still shouting\r
+with a hoarse voice.\r
+\r
+"Karay, ulyulyu!..." he shouted, looking round for the old borzoi who\r
+was now his only hope. Karay, with all the strength age had left him,\r
+stretched himself to the utmost and, watching the wolf, galloped heavily\r
+aside to intercept it. But the quickness of the wolf's lope and the\r
+borzoi's slower pace made it plain that Karay had miscalculated.\r
+Nicholas could already see not far in front of him the wood where the\r
+wolf would certainly escape should she reach it. But, coming toward him,\r
+he saw hounds and a huntsman galloping almost straight at the wolf.\r
+There was still hope. A long, yellowish young borzoi, one Nicholas did\r
+not know, from another leash, rushed impetuously at the wolf from in\r
+front and almost knocked her over. But the wolf jumped up more quickly\r
+than anyone could have expected and, gnashing her teeth, flew at the\r
+yellowish borzoi, which, with a piercing yelp, fell with its head on the\r
+ground, bleeding from a gash in its side.\r
+\r
+"Karay? Old fellow!..." wailed Nicholas.\r
+\r
+Thanks to the delay caused by this crossing of the wolf's path, the old\r
+dog with its felted hair hanging from its thigh was within five paces of\r
+it. As if aware of her danger, the wolf turned her eyes on Karay, tucked\r
+her tail yet further between her legs, and increased her speed. But here\r
+Nicholas only saw that something happened to Karay--the borzoi was\r
+suddenly on the wolf, and they rolled together down into a gully just in\r
+front of them.\r
+\r
+That instant, when Nicholas saw the wolf struggling in the gully with\r
+the dogs, while from under them could be seen her gray hair and\r
+outstretched hind leg and her frightened choking head, with her ears\r
+laid back (Karay was pinning her by the throat), was the happiest moment\r
+of his life. With his hand on his saddlebow, he was ready to dismount\r
+and stab the wolf, when she suddenly thrust her head up from among that\r
+mass of dogs, and then her forepaws were on the edge of the gully. She\r
+clicked her teeth (Karay no longer had her by the throat), leaped with a\r
+movement of her hind legs out of the gully, and having disengaged\r
+herself from the dogs, with tail tucked in again, went forward. Karay,\r
+his hair bristling, and probably bruised or wounded, climbed with\r
+difficulty out of the gully.\r
+\r
+"Oh my God! Why?" Nicholas cried in despair.\r
+\r
+"Uncle's" huntsman was galloping from the other side across the wolf's\r
+path and his borzois once more stopped the animal's advance. She was\r
+again hemmed in.\r
+\r
+Nicholas and his attendant, with "Uncle" and his huntsman, were all\r
+riding round the wolf, crying "ulyulyu!" shouting and preparing to\r
+dismount each moment that the wolf crouched back, and starting forward\r
+again every time she shook herself and moved toward the wood where she\r
+would be safe.\r
+\r
+Already, at the beginning of this chase, Daniel, hearing the ulyulyuing,\r
+had rushed out from the wood. He saw Karay seize the wolf, and checked\r
+his horse, supposing the affair to be over. But when he saw that the\r
+horsemen did not dismount and that the wolf shook herself and ran for\r
+safety, Daniel set his chestnut galloping, not at the wolf but straight\r
+toward the wood, just as Karay had run to cut the animal off. As a\r
+result of this, he galloped up to the wolf just when she had been\r
+stopped a second time by "Uncle's" borzois.\r
+\r
+Daniel galloped up silently, holding a naked dagger in his left hand and\r
+thrashing the laboring sides of his chestnut horse with his whip as if\r
+it were a flail.\r
+\r
+Nicholas neither saw nor heard Daniel until the chestnut, breathing\r
+heavily, panted past him, and he heard the fall of a body and saw Daniel\r
+lying on the wolf's back among the dogs, trying to seize her by the\r
+ears. It was evident to the dogs, the hunters, and to the wolf herself\r
+that all was now over. The terrified wolf pressed back her ears and\r
+tried to rise, but the borzois stuck to her. Daniel rose a little, took\r
+a step, and with his whole weight, as if lying down to rest, fell on the\r
+wolf, seizing her by the ears. Nicholas was about to stab her, but\r
+Daniel whispered, "Don't! We'll gag her!" and, changing his position,\r
+set his foot on the wolf's neck. A stick was thrust between her jaws and\r
+she was fastened with a leash, as if bridled, her legs were bound\r
+together, and Daniel rolled her over once or twice from side to side.\r
+\r
+With happy, exhausted faces, they laid the old wolf, alive, on a shying\r
+and snorting horse and, accompanied by the dogs yelping at her, took her\r
+to the place where they were all to meet. The hounds had killed two of\r
+the cubs and the borzois three. The huntsmen assembled with their booty\r
+and their stories, and all came to look at the wolf, which, with her\r
+broad-browed head hanging down and the bitten stick between her jaws,\r
+gazed with great glassy eyes at this crowd of dogs and men surrounding\r
+her. When she was touched, she jerked her bound legs and looked wildly\r
+yet simply at everybody. Old Count Rostov also rode up and touched the\r
+wolf.\r
+\r
+"Oh, what a formidable one!" said he. "A formidable one, eh?" he asked\r
+Daniel, who was standing near.\r
+\r
+"Yes, your excellency," answered Daniel, quickly doffing his cap.\r
+\r
+The count remembered the wolf he had let slip and his encounter with\r
+Daniel.\r
+\r
+"Ah, but you are a crusty fellow, friend!" said the count.\r
+\r
+For sole reply Daniel gave him a shy, childlike, meek, and amiable\r
+smile.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+The old count went home, and Natasha and Petya promised to return very\r
+soon, but as it was still early the hunt went farther. At midday they\r
+put the hounds into a ravine thickly overgrown with young trees.\r
+Nicholas standing in a fallow field could see all his whips.\r
+\r
+Facing him lay a field of winter rye, there his own huntsman stood alone\r
+in a hollow behind a hazel bush. The hounds had scarcely been loosed\r
+before Nicholas heard one he knew, Voltorn, giving tongue at intervals;\r
+other hounds joined in, now pausing and now again giving tongue. A\r
+moment later he heard a cry from the wooded ravine that a fox had been\r
+found, and the whole pack, joining together, rushed along the ravine\r
+toward the ryefield and away from Nicholas.\r
+\r
+He saw the whips in their red caps galloping along the edge of the\r
+ravine, he even saw the hounds, and was expecting a fox to show itself\r
+at any moment on the ryefield opposite.\r
+\r
+The huntsman standing in the hollow moved and loosed his borzois, and\r
+Nicholas saw a queer, short-legged red fox with a fine brush going hard\r
+across the field. The borzois bore down on it.... Now they drew close to\r
+the fox which began to dodge between the field in sharper and sharper\r
+curves, trailing its brush, when suddenly a strange white borzoi dashed\r
+in followed by a black one, and everything was in confusion; the borzois\r
+formed a star-shaped figure, scarcely swaying their bodies and with\r
+tails turned away from the center of the group. Two huntsmen galloped up\r
+to the dogs; one in a red cap, the other, a stranger, in a green coat.\r
+\r
+"What's this?" thought Nicholas. "Where's that huntsman from? He is not\r
+'Uncle's' man."\r
+\r
+The huntsmen got the fox, but stayed there a long time without strapping\r
+it to the saddle. Their horses, bridled and with high saddles, stood\r
+near them and there too the dogs were lying. The huntsmen waved their\r
+arms and did something to the fox. Then from that spot came the sound of\r
+a horn, with the signal agreed on in case of a fight.\r
+\r
+"That's Ilagin's huntsman having a row with our Ivan," said Nicholas'\r
+groom.\r
+\r
+Nicholas sent the man to call Natasha and Petya to him, and rode at a\r
+footpace to the place where the whips were getting the hounds together.\r
+Several of the field galloped to the spot where the fight was going on.\r
+\r
+Nicholas dismounted, and with Natasha and Petya, who had ridden up,\r
+stopped near the hounds, waiting to see how the matter would end. Out of\r
+the bushes came the huntsman who had been fighting and rode toward his\r
+young master, with the fox tied to his crupper. While still at a\r
+distance he took off his cap and tried to speak respectfully, but he was\r
+pale and breathless and his face was angry. One of his eyes was black,\r
+but he probably was not even aware of it.\r
+\r
+"What has happened?" asked Nicholas.\r
+\r
+"A likely thing, killing a fox our dogs had hunted! And it was my gray\r
+bitch that caught it! Go to law, indeed!... He snatches at the fox! I\r
+gave him one with the fox. Here it is on my saddle! Do you want a taste\r
+of this?..." said the huntsman, pointing to his dagger and probably\r
+imagining himself still speaking to his foe.\r
+\r
+Nicholas, not stopping to talk to the man, asked his sister and Petya to\r
+wait for him and rode to the spot where the enemy's, Ilagin's, hunting\r
+party was.\r
+\r
+The victorious huntsman rode off to join the field, and there,\r
+surrounded by inquiring sympathizers, recounted his exploits.\r
+\r
+The facts were that Ilagin, with whom the Rostovs had a quarrel and were\r
+at law, hunted over places that belonged by custom to the Rostovs, and\r
+had now, as if purposely, sent his men to the very woods the Rostovs\r
+were hunting and let his man snatch a fox their dogs had chased.\r
+\r
+Nicholas, though he had never seen Ilagin, with his usual absence of\r
+moderation in judgment, hated him cordially from reports of his\r
+arbitrariness and violence, and regarded him as his bitterest foe. He\r
+rode in angry agitation toward him, firmly grasping his whip and fully\r
+prepared to take the most resolute and desperate steps to punish his\r
+enemy.\r
+\r
+Hardly had he passed an angle of the wood before a stout gentleman in a\r
+beaver cap came riding toward him on a handsome raven-black horse,\r
+accompanied by two hunt servants.\r
+\r
+Instead of an enemy, Nicholas found in Ilagin a stately and courteous\r
+gentleman who was particularly anxious to make the young count's\r
+acquaintance. Having ridden up to Nicholas, Ilagin raised his beaver cap\r
+and said he much regretted what had occurred and would have the man\r
+punished who had allowed himself to seize a fox hunted by someone else's\r
+borzois. He hoped to become better acquainted with the count and invited\r
+him to draw his covert.\r
+\r
+Natasha, afraid that her brother would do something dreadful, had\r
+followed him in some excitement. Seeing the enemies exchanging friendly\r
+greetings, she rode up to them. Ilagin lifted his beaver cap still\r
+higher to Natasha and said, with a pleasant smile, that the young\r
+countess resembled Diana in her passion for the chase as well as in her\r
+beauty, of which he had heard much.\r
+\r
+To expiate his huntsman's offense, Ilagin pressed the Rostovs to come to\r
+an upland of his about a mile away which he usually kept for himself and\r
+which, he said, swarmed with hares. Nicholas agreed, and the hunt, now\r
+doubled, moved on.\r
+\r
+The way to Iligin's upland was across the fields. The hunt servants fell\r
+into line. The masters rode together. "Uncle," Rostov, and Ilagin kept\r
+stealthily glancing at one another's dogs, trying not to be observed by\r
+their companions and searching uneasily for rivals to their own borzois.\r
+\r
+Rostov was particularly struck by the beauty of a small, pure-bred, red-\r
+spotted bitch on Ilagin's leash, slender but with muscles like steel, a\r
+delicate muzzle, and prominent black eyes. He had heard of the swiftness\r
+of Ilagin's borzois, and in that beautiful bitch saw a rival to his own\r
+Milka.\r
+\r
+In the middle of a sober conversation begun by Ilagin about the year's\r
+harvest, Nicholas pointed to the red-spotted bitch.\r
+\r
+"A fine little bitch, that!" said he in a careless tone. "Is she swift?"\r
+\r
+"That one? Yes, she's a good dog, gets what she's after," answered\r
+Ilagin indifferently, of the red-spotted bitch Erza, for which, a year\r
+before, he had given a neighbor three families of house serfs. "So in\r
+your parts, too, the harvest is nothing to boast of, Count?" he went on,\r
+continuing the conversation they had begun. And considering it polite to\r
+return the young count's compliment, Ilagin looked at his borzois and\r
+picked out Milka who attracted his attention by her breadth. "That\r
+black-spotted one of yours is fine--well shaped!" said he.\r
+\r
+"Yes, she's fast enough," replied Nicholas, and thought: "If only a\r
+full-grown hare would cross the field now I'd show you what sort of\r
+borzoi she is," and turning to his groom, he said he would give a ruble\r
+to anyone who found a hare.\r
+\r
+"I don't understand," continued Ilagin, "how some sportsmen can be so\r
+jealous about game and dogs. For myself, I can tell you, Count, I enjoy\r
+riding in company such as this... what could be better?" (he again\r
+raised his cap to Natasha) "but as for counting skins and what one\r
+takes, I don't care about that."\r
+\r
+"Of course not!"\r
+\r
+"Or being upset because someone else's borzoi and not mine catches\r
+something. All I care about is to enjoy seeing the chase, is it not so,\r
+Count? For I consider that..."\r
+\r
+"A-tu!" came the long-drawn cry of one of the borzoi whippers-in, who\r
+had halted. He stood on a knoll in the stubble, holding his whip aloft,\r
+and again repeated his long-drawn cry, "A-tu!" (This call and the\r
+uplifted whip meant that he saw a sitting hare.)\r
+\r
+"Ah, he has found one, I think," said Ilagin carelessly. "Yes, we must\r
+ride up.... Shall we both course it?" answered Nicholas, seeing in Erza\r
+and "Uncle's" red Rugay two rivals he had never yet had a chance of\r
+pitting against his own borzois. "And suppose they outdo my Milka at\r
+once!" he thought as he rode with "Uncle" and Ilagin toward the hare.\r
+\r
+"A full-grown one?" asked Ilagin as he approached the whip who had\r
+sighted the hare--and not without agitation he looked round and whistled\r
+to Erza.\r
+\r
+"And you, Michael Nikanorovich?" he said, addressing "Uncle."\r
+\r
+The latter was riding with a sullen expression on his face.\r
+\r
+"How can I join in? Why, you've given a village for each of your\r
+borzois! That's it, come on! Yours are worth thousands. Try yours\r
+against one another, you two, and I'll look on!"\r
+\r
+"Rugay, hey, hey!" he shouted. "Rugayushka!" he added, involuntarily by\r
+this diminutive expressing his affection and the hopes he placed on this\r
+red borzoi. Natasha saw and felt the agitation the two elderly men and\r
+her brother were trying to conceal, and was herself excited by it.\r
+\r
+The huntsman stood halfway up the knoll holding up his whip and the\r
+gentlefolk rode up to him at a footpace; the hounds that were far off on\r
+the horizon turned away from the hare, and the whips, but not the\r
+gentlefolk, also moved away. All were moving slowly and sedately.\r
+\r
+"How is it pointing?" asked Nicholas, riding a hundred paces toward the\r
+whip who had sighted the hare.\r
+\r
+But before the whip could reply, the hare, scenting the frost coming\r
+next morning, was unable to rest and leaped up. The pack on leash rushed\r
+downhill in full cry after the hare, and from all sides the borzois that\r
+were not on leash darted after the hounds and the hare. All the hunt,\r
+who had been moving slowly, shouted, "Stop!" calling in the hounds,\r
+while the borzoi whips, with a cry of "A-tu!" galloped across the field\r
+setting the borzois on the hare. The tranquil Ilagin, Nicholas, Natasha,\r
+and "Uncle" flew, reckless of where and how they went, seeing only the\r
+borzois and the hare and fearing only to lose sight even for an instant\r
+of the chase. The hare they had started was a strong and swift one. When\r
+he jumped up he did not run at once, but pricked his ears listening to\r
+the shouting and trampling that resounded from all sides at once. He\r
+took a dozen bounds, not very quickly, letting the borzois gain on him,\r
+and, finally having chosen his direction and realized his danger, laid\r
+back his ears and rushed off headlong. He had been lying in the stubble,\r
+but in front of him was the autumn sowing where the ground was soft. The\r
+two borzois of the huntsman who had sighted him, having been the\r
+nearest, were the first to see and pursue him, but they had not gone far\r
+before Ilagin's red-spotted Erza passed them, got within a length, flew\r
+at the hare with terrible swiftness aiming at his scut, and, thinking\r
+she had seized him, rolled over like a ball. The hare arched his back\r
+and bounded off yet more swiftly. From behind Erza rushed the broad-\r
+haunched, black-spotted Milka and began rapidly gaining on the hare.\r
+\r
+"Milashka, dear!" rose Nicholas' triumphant cry. It looked as if Milka\r
+would immediately pounce on the hare, but she overtook him and flew\r
+past. The hare had squatted. Again the beautiful Erza reached him, but\r
+when close to the hare's scut paused as if measuring the distance, so as\r
+not to make a mistake this time but seize his hind leg.\r
+\r
+"Erza, darling!" Ilagin wailed in a voice unlike his own. Erza did not\r
+hearken to his appeal. At the very moment when she would have seized her\r
+prey, the hare moved and darted along the balk between the winter rye\r
+and the stubble. Again Erza and Milka were abreast, running like a pair\r
+of carriage horses, and began to overtake the hare, but it was easier\r
+for the hare to run on the balk and the borzois did not overtake him so\r
+quickly.\r
+\r
+"Rugay, Rugayushka! That's it, come on!" came a third voice just then,\r
+and "Uncle's" red borzoi, straining and curving its back, caught up with\r
+the two foremost borzois, pushed ahead of them regardless of the\r
+terrible strain, put on speed close to the hare, knocked it off the balk\r
+onto the ryefield, again put on speed still more viciously, sinking to\r
+his knees in the muddy field, and all one could see was how, muddying\r
+his back, he rolled over with the hare. A ring of borzois surrounded\r
+him. A moment later everyone had drawn up round the crowd of dogs. Only\r
+the delighted "Uncle" dismounted, and cut off a pad, shaking the hare\r
+for the blood to drip off, and anxiously glancing round with restless\r
+eyes while his arms and legs twitched. He spoke without himself knowing\r
+whom to or what about. "That's it, come on! That's a dog!... There, it\r
+has beaten them all, the thousand-ruble as well as the one-ruble\r
+borzois. That's it, come on!" said he, panting and looking wrathfully\r
+around as if he were abusing someone, as if they were all his enemies\r
+and had insulted him, and only now had he at last succeeded in\r
+justifying himself. "There are your thousand-ruble ones.... That's it,\r
+come on!..."\r
+\r
+"Rugay, here's a pad for you!" he said, throwing down the hare's muddy\r
+pad. "You've deserved it, that's it, come on!"\r
+\r
+"She'd tired herself out, she'd run it down three times by herself,"\r
+said Nicholas, also not listening to anyone and regardless of whether he\r
+were heard or not.\r
+\r
+"But what is there in running across it like that?" said Ilagin's groom.\r
+\r
+"Once she had missed it and turned it away, any mongrel could take it,"\r
+Ilagin was saying at the same time, breathless from his gallop and his\r
+excitement. At the same moment Natasha, without drawing breath, screamed\r
+joyously, ecstatically, and so piercingly that it set everyone's ear\r
+tingling. By that shriek she expressed what the others expressed by all\r
+talking at once, and it was so strange that she must herself have been\r
+ashamed of so wild a cry and everyone else would have been amazed at it\r
+at any other time. "Uncle" himself twisted up the hare, threw it neatly\r
+and smartly across his horse's back as if by that gesture he meant to\r
+rebuke everybody, and, with an air of not wishing to speak to anyone,\r
+mounted his bay and rode off. The others all followed, dispirited and\r
+shamefaced, and only much later were they able to regain their former\r
+affectation of indifference. For a long time they continued to look at\r
+red Rugay who, his arched back spattered with mud and clanking the ring\r
+of his leash, walked along just behind "Uncle's" horse with the serene\r
+air of a conqueror.\r
+\r
+"Well, I am like any other dog as long as it's not a question of\r
+coursing. But when it is, then look out!" his appearance seemed to\r
+Nicholas to be saying.\r
+\r
+When, much later, "Uncle" rode up to Nicholas and began talking to him,\r
+he felt flattered that, after what had happened, "Uncle" deigned to\r
+speak to him.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+Toward evening Ilagin took leave of Nicholas, who found that they were\r
+so far from home that he accepted "Uncle's" offer that the hunting party\r
+should spend the night in his little village of Mikhaylovna.\r
+\r
+"And if you put up at my house that will be better still. That's it,\r
+come on!" said "Uncle." "You see it's damp weather, and you could rest,\r
+and the little countess could be driven home in a trap."\r
+\r
+"Uncle's" offer was accepted. A huntsman was sent to Otradnoe for a\r
+trap, while Nicholas rode with Natasha and Petya to "Uncle's" house.\r
+\r
+Some five male domestic serfs, big and little, rushed out to the front\r
+porch to meet their master. A score of women serfs, old and young, as\r
+well as children, popped out from the back entrance to have a look at\r
+the hunters who were arriving. The presence of Natasha--a woman, a lady,\r
+and on horseback--raised the curiosity of the serfs to such a degree\r
+that many of them came up to her, stared her in the face, and unabashed\r
+by her presence made remarks about her as though she were some prodigy\r
+on show and not a human being able to hear or understand what was said\r
+about her.\r
+\r
+"Arinka! Look, she sits sideways! There she sits and her skirt\r
+dangles.... See, she's got a little hunting horn!"\r
+\r
+"Goodness gracious! See her knife?..."\r
+\r
+"Isn't she a Tartar!"\r
+\r
+"How is it you didn't go head over heels?" asked the boldest of all,\r
+addressing Natasha directly.\r
+\r
+"Uncle" dismounted at the porch of his little wooden house which stood\r
+in the midst of an overgrown garden and, after a glance at his\r
+retainers, shouted authoritatively that the superfluous ones should take\r
+themselves off and that all necessary preparations should be made to\r
+receive the guests and the visitors.\r
+\r
+The serfs all dispersed. "Uncle" lifted Natasha off her horse and taking\r
+her hand led her up the rickety wooden steps of the porch. The house,\r
+with its bare, unplastered log walls, was not overclean--it did not seem\r
+that those living in it aimed at keeping it spotless--but neither was it\r
+noticeably neglected. In the entry there was a smell of fresh apples,\r
+and wolf and fox skins hung about.\r
+\r
+"Uncle" led the visitors through the anteroom into a small hall with a\r
+folding table and red chairs, then into the drawing room with a round\r
+birchwood table and a sofa, and finally into his private room where\r
+there was a tattered sofa, a worn carpet, and portraits of Suvorov, of\r
+the host's father and mother, and of himself in military uniform. The\r
+study smelt strongly of tobacco and dogs. "Uncle" asked his visitors to\r
+sit down and make themselves at home, and then went out of the room.\r
+Rugay, his back still muddy, came into the room and lay down on the\r
+sofa, cleaning himself with his tongue and teeth. Leading from the study\r
+was a passage in which a partition with ragged curtains could be seen.\r
+From behind this came women's laughter and whispers. Natasha, Nicholas,\r
+and Petya took off their wraps and sat down on the sofa. Petya, leaning\r
+on his elbow, fell asleep at once. Natasha and Nicholas were silent.\r
+Their faces glowed, they were hungry and very cheerful. They looked at\r
+one another (now that the hunt was over and they were in the house,\r
+Nicholas no longer considered it necessary to show his manly superiority\r
+over his sister), Natasha gave him a wink, and neither refrained long\r
+from bursting into a peal of ringing laughter even before they had a\r
+pretext ready to account for it.\r
+\r
+After a while "Uncle" came in, in a Cossack coat, blue trousers, and\r
+small top boots. And Natasha felt that this costume, the very one she\r
+had regarded with surprise and amusement at Otradnoe, was just the right\r
+thing and not at all worse than a swallow-tail or frock coat. "Uncle"\r
+too was in high spirits and far from being offended by the brother's and\r
+sister's laughter (it could never enter his head that they might be\r
+laughing at his way of life) he himself joined in the merriment.\r
+\r
+"That's right, young countess, that's it, come on! I never saw anyone\r
+like her!" said he, offering Nicholas a pipe with a long stem and, with\r
+a practiced motion of three fingers, taking down another that had been\r
+cut short. "She's ridden all day like a man, and is as fresh as ever!"\r
+\r
+Soon after "Uncle's" reappearance the door was opened, evidently from\r
+the sound by a barefooted girl, and a stout, rosy, good-looking woman of\r
+about forty, with a double chin and full red lips, entered carrying a\r
+large loaded tray. With hospitable dignity and cordiality in her glance\r
+and in every motion, she looked at the visitors and, with a pleasant\r
+smile, bowed respectfully. In spite of her exceptional stoutness, which\r
+caused her to protrude her chest and stomach and throw back her head,\r
+this woman (who was "Uncle's" housekeeper) trod very lightly. She went\r
+to the table, set down the tray, and with her plump white hands deftly\r
+took from it the bottles and various hors d'oeuvres and dishes and\r
+arranged them on the table. When she had finished, she stepped aside and\r
+stopped at the door with a smile on her face. "Here I am. I am she! Now\r
+do you understand 'Uncle'?" her expression said to Rostov. How could one\r
+help understanding? Not only Nicholas, but even Natasha understood the\r
+meaning of his puckered brow and the happy complacent smile that\r
+slightly puckered his lips when Anisya Fedorovna entered. On the tray\r
+was a bottle of herb wine, different kinds of vodka, pickled mushrooms,\r
+rye cakes made with buttermilk, honey in the comb, still mead and\r
+sparkling mead, apples, nuts (raw and roasted), and nut-and-honey\r
+sweets. Afterwards she brought a freshly roasted chicken, ham, preserves\r
+made with honey, and preserves made with sugar.\r
+\r
+All this was the fruit of Anisya Fedorovna's housekeeping, gathered and\r
+prepared by her. The smell and taste of it all had a smack of Anisya\r
+Fedorovna herself: a savor of juiciness, cleanliness, whiteness, and\r
+pleasant smiles.\r
+\r
+"Take this, little Lady-Countess!" she kept saying, as she offered\r
+Natasha first one thing and then another.\r
+\r
+Natasha ate of everything and thought she had never seen or eaten such\r
+buttermilk cakes, such aromatic jam, such honey-and-nut sweets, or such\r
+a chicken anywhere. Anisya Fedorovna left the room.\r
+\r
+After supper, over their cherry brandy, Rostov and "Uncle" talked of\r
+past and future hunts, of Rugay and Ilagin's dogs, while Natasha sat\r
+upright on the sofa and listened with sparkling eyes. She tried several\r
+times to wake Petya that he might eat something, but he only muttered\r
+incoherent words without waking up. Natasha felt so lighthearted and\r
+happy in these novel surroundings that she only feared the trap would\r
+come for her too soon. After a casual pause, such as often occurs when\r
+receiving friends for the first time in one's own house, "Uncle,"\r
+answering a thought that was in his visitors' mind, said:\r
+\r
+"This, you see, is how I am finishing my days... Death will come. That's\r
+it, come on! Nothing will remain. Then why harm anyone?"\r
+\r
+"Uncle's" face was very significant and even handsome as he said this.\r
+Involuntarily Rostov recalled all the good he had heard about him from\r
+his father and the neighbors. Throughout the whole province "Uncle" had\r
+the reputation of being the most honorable and disinterested of cranks.\r
+They called him in to decide family disputes, chose him as executor,\r
+confided secrets to him, elected him to be a justice and to other posts;\r
+but he always persistently refused public appointments, passing the\r
+autumn and spring in the fields on his bay gelding, sitting at home in\r
+winter, and lying in his overgrown garden in summer.\r
+\r
+"Why don't you enter the service, Uncle?"\r
+\r
+"I did once, but gave it up. I am not fit for it. That's it, come on! I\r
+can't make head or tail of it. That's for you--I haven't brains enough.\r
+Now, hunting is another matter--that's it, come on! Open the door,\r
+there!" he shouted. "Why have you shut it?"\r
+\r
+The door at the end of the passage led to the huntsmen's room, as they\r
+called the room for the hunt servants.\r
+\r
+There was a rapid patter of bare feet, and an unseen hand opened the\r
+door into the huntsmen's room, from which came the clear sounds of a\r
+balalayka on which someone, who was evidently a master of the art, was\r
+playing. Natasha had been listening to those strains for some time and\r
+now went out into the passage to hear better.\r
+\r
+"That's Mitka, my coachman.... I have got him a good balalayka. I'm fond\r
+of it," said "Uncle."\r
+\r
+It was the custom for Mitka to play the balalayka in the huntsmen's room\r
+when "Uncle" returned from the chase. "Uncle" was fond of such music.\r
+\r
+"How good! Really very good!" said Nicholas with some unintentional\r
+superciliousness, as if ashamed to confess that the sounds pleased him\r
+very much.\r
+\r
+"Very good?" said Natasha reproachfully, noticing her brother's tone.\r
+"Not 'very good' it's simply delicious!"\r
+\r
+Just as "Uncle's" pickled mushrooms, honey, and cherry brandy had seemed\r
+to her the best in the world, so also that song, at that moment, seemed\r
+to her the acme of musical delight.\r
+\r
+"More, please, more!" cried Natasha at the door as soon as the balalayka\r
+ceased. Mitka tuned up afresh, and recommenced thrumming the balalayka\r
+to the air of My Lady, with trills and variations. "Uncle" sat\r
+listening, slightly smiling, with his head on one side. The air was\r
+repeated a hundred times. The balalayka was retuned several times and\r
+the same notes were thrummed again, but the listeners did not grow weary\r
+of it and wished to hear it again and again. Anisya Fedorovna came in\r
+and leaned her portly person against the doorpost.\r
+\r
+"You like listening?" she said to Natasha, with a smile extremely like\r
+"Uncle's." "That's a good player of ours," she added.\r
+\r
+"He doesn't play that part right!" said "Uncle" suddenly, with an\r
+energetic gesture. "Here he ought to burst out--that's it, come on!--\r
+ought to burst out."\r
+\r
+"Do you play then?" asked Natasha.\r
+\r
+"Uncle" did not answer, but smiled.\r
+\r
+"Anisya, go and see if the strings of my guitar are all right. I haven't\r
+touched it for a long time. That's it--come on! I've given it up."\r
+\r
+Anisya Fedorovna, with her light step, willingly went to fulfill her\r
+errand and brought back the guitar.\r
+\r
+Without looking at anyone, "Uncle" blew the dust off it and, tapping the\r
+case with his bony fingers, tuned the guitar and settled himself in his\r
+armchair. He took the guitar a little above the fingerboard, arching his\r
+left elbow with a somewhat theatrical gesture, and, with a wink at\r
+Anisya Fedorovna, struck a single chord, pure and sonorous, and then\r
+quietly, smoothly, and confidently began playing in very slow time, not\r
+My Lady, but the well-known song: Came a maiden down the street. The\r
+tune, played with precision and in exact time, began to thrill in the\r
+hearts of Nicholas and Natasha, arousing in them the same kind of sober\r
+mirth as radiated from Anisya Fedorovna's whole being. Anisya Fedorovna\r
+flushed, and drawing her kerchief over her face went laughing out of the\r
+room. "Uncle" continued to play correctly, carefully, with energetic\r
+firmness, looking with a changed and inspired expression at the spot\r
+where Anisya Fedorovna had just stood. Something seemed to be laughing a\r
+little on one side of his face under his gray mustaches, especially as\r
+the song grew brisker and the time quicker and when, here and there, as\r
+he ran his fingers over the strings, something seemed to snap.\r
+\r
+"Lovely, lovely! Go on, Uncle, go on!" shouted Natasha as soon as he had\r
+finished. She jumped up and hugged and kissed him. "Nicholas, Nicholas!"\r
+she said, turning to her brother, as if asking him: "What is it moves me\r
+so?"\r
+\r
+Nicholas too was greatly pleased by "Uncle's" playing, and "Uncle"\r
+played the piece over again. Anisya Fedorovna's smiling face reappeared\r
+in the doorway and behind hers other faces...\r
+\r
+\r
+Fetching water clear and sweet, Stop, dear maiden, I entreat--\r
+\r
+played "Uncle" once more, running his fingers skillfully over the\r
+strings, and then he stopped short and jerked his shoulders.\r
+\r
+"Go on, Uncle dear," Natasha wailed in an imploring tone as if her life\r
+depended on it.\r
+\r
+"Uncle" rose, and it was as if there were two men in him: one of them\r
+smiled seriously at the merry fellow, while the merry fellow struck a\r
+naive and precise attitude preparatory to a folk dance.\r
+\r
+"Now then, niece!" he exclaimed, waving to Natasha the hand that had\r
+just struck a chord.\r
+\r
+Natasha threw off the shawl from her shoulders, ran forward to face\r
+"Uncle," and setting her arms akimbo also made a motion with her\r
+shoulders and struck an attitude.\r
+\r
+Where, how, and when had this young countess, educated by an emigree\r
+French governess, imbibed from the Russian air she breathed that spirit\r
+and obtained that manner which the pas de chale * would, one would have\r
+supposed, long ago have effaced? But the spirit and the movements were\r
+those inimitable and unteachable Russian ones that "Uncle" had expected\r
+of her. As soon as she had struck her pose, and smiled triumphantly,\r
+proudly, and with sly merriment, the fear that had at first seized\r
+Nicholas and the others that she might not do the right thing was at an\r
+end, and they were already admiring her.\r
+\r
+\r
+* The French shawl dance.\r
+\r
+She did the right thing with such precision, such complete precision,\r
+that Anisya Fedorovna, who had at once handed her the handkerchief she\r
+needed for the dance, had tears in her eyes, though she laughed as she\r
+watched this slim, graceful countess, reared in silks and velvets and so\r
+different from herself, who yet was able to understand all that was in\r
+Anisya and in Anisya's father and mother and aunt, and in every Russian\r
+man and woman.\r
+\r
+"Well, little countess; that's it--come on!" cried "Uncle," with a\r
+joyous laugh, having finished the dance. "Well done, niece! Now a fine\r
+young fellow must be found as husband for you. That's it--come on!"\r
+\r
+"He's chosen already," said Nicholas smiling.\r
+\r
+"Oh?" said "Uncle" in surprise, looking inquiringly at Natasha, who\r
+nodded her head with a happy smile.\r
+\r
+"And such a one!" she said. But as soon as she had said it a new train\r
+of thoughts and feelings arose in her. "What did Nicholas' smile mean\r
+when he said 'chosen already'? Is he glad of it or not? It is as if he\r
+thought my Bolkonski would not approve of or understand our gaiety. But\r
+he would understand it all. Where is he now?" she thought, and her face\r
+suddenly became serious. But this lasted only a second. "Don't dare to\r
+think about it," she said to herself, and sat down again smilingly\r
+beside "Uncle," begging him to play something more.\r
+\r
+"Uncle" played another song and a valse; then after a pause he cleared\r
+his throat and sang his favorite hunting song:\r
+\r
+\r
+As 'twas growing dark last night Fell the snow so soft and light...\r
+\r
+"Uncle" sang as peasants sing, with full and naive conviction that the\r
+whole meaning of a song lies in the words and that the tune comes of\r
+itself, and that apart from the words there is no tune, which exists\r
+only to give measure to the words. As a result of this the unconsidered\r
+tune, like the song of a bird, was extraordinarily good. Natasha was in\r
+ecstasies over "Uncle's" singing. She resolved to give up learning the\r
+harp and to play only the guitar. She asked "Uncle" for his guitar and\r
+at once found the chords of the song.\r
+\r
+After nine o'clock two traps and three mounted men, who had been sent to\r
+look for them, arrived to fetch Natasha and Petya. The count and\r
+countess did not know where they were and were very anxious, said one of\r
+the men.\r
+\r
+Petya was carried out like a log and laid in the larger of the two\r
+traps. Natasha and Nicholas got into the other. "Uncle" wrapped Natasha\r
+up warmly and took leave of her with quite a new tenderness. He\r
+accompanied them on foot as far as the bridge that could not be crossed,\r
+so that they had to go round by the ford, and he sent huntsmen to ride\r
+in front with lanterns.\r
+\r
+"Good-bye, dear niece," his voice called out of the darkness--not the\r
+voice Natasha had known previously, but the one that had sung As 'twas\r
+growing dark last night.\r
+\r
+In the village through which they passed there were red lights and a\r
+cheerful smell of smoke.\r
+\r
+"What a darling Uncle is!" said Natasha, when they had come out onto the\r
+highroad.\r
+\r
+"Yes," returned Nicholas. "You're not cold?"\r
+\r
+"No. I'm quite, quite all right. I feel so comfortable!" answered\r
+Natasha, almost perplexed by her feelings. They remained silent a long\r
+while. The night was dark and damp. They could not see the horses, but\r
+only heard them splashing through the unseen mud.\r
+\r
+What was passing in that receptive childlike soul that so eagerly caught\r
+and assimilated all the diverse impressions of life? How did they all\r
+find place in her? But she was very happy. As they were nearing home she\r
+suddenly struck up the air of As 'twas growing dark last night--the tune\r
+of which she had all the way been trying to get and had at last caught.\r
+\r
+"Got it?" said Nicholas.\r
+\r
+"What were you thinking about just now, Nicholas?" inquired Natasha.\r
+\r
+They were fond of asking one another that question.\r
+\r
+"I?" said Nicholas, trying to remember. "Well, you see, first I thought\r
+that Rugay, the red hound, was like Uncle, and that if he were a man he\r
+would always keep Uncle near him, if not for his riding, then for his\r
+manner. What a good fellow Uncle is! Don't you think so?... Well, and\r
+you?"\r
+\r
+"I? Wait a bit, wait.... Yes, first I thought that we are driving along\r
+and imagining that we are going home, but that heaven knows where we are\r
+really going in the darkness, and that we shall arrive and suddenly find\r
+that we are not in Otradnoe, but in Fairyland. And then I thought... No,\r
+nothing else."\r
+\r
+"I know, I expect you thought of him," said Nicholas, smiling as Natasha\r
+knew by the sound of his voice.\r
+\r
+"No," said Natasha, though she had in reality been thinking about Prince\r
+Andrew at the same time as of the rest, and of how he would have liked\r
+"Uncle." "And then I was saying to myself all the way, 'How well Anisya\r
+carried herself, how well!'" And Nicholas heard her spontaneous, happy,\r
+ringing laughter. "And do you know," she suddenly said, "I know that I\r
+shall never again be as happy and tranquil as I am now."\r
+\r
+"Rubbish, nonsense, humbug!" exclaimed Nicholas, and he thought: "How\r
+charming this Natasha of mine is! I have no other friend like her and\r
+never shall have. Why should she marry? We might always drive about\r
+together!"\r
+\r
+"What a darling this Nicholas of mine is!" thought Natasha.\r
+\r
+"Ah, there are still lights in the drawing-room!" she said, pointing to\r
+the windows of the house that gleamed invitingly in the moist velvety\r
+darkness of the night.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+Count Ilya Rostov had resigned the position of Marshal of the Nobility\r
+because it involved him in too much expense, but still his affairs did\r
+not improve. Natasha and Nicholas often noticed their parents conferring\r
+together anxiously and privately and heard suggestions of selling the\r
+fine ancestral Rostov house and estate near Moscow. It was not necessary\r
+to entertain so freely as when the count had been Marshal, and life at\r
+Otradnoe was quieter than in former years, but still the enormous house\r
+and its lodges were full of people and more than twenty sat down to\r
+table every day. These were all their own people who had settled down in\r
+the house almost as members of the family, or persons who were, it\r
+seemed, obliged to live in the count's house. Such were Dimmler the\r
+musician and his wife, Vogel the dancing master and his family, Belova,\r
+an old maiden lady, an inmate of the house, and many others such as\r
+Petya's tutors, the girls' former governess, and other people who simply\r
+found it preferable and more advantageous to live in the count's house\r
+than at home. They had not as many visitors as before, but the old\r
+habits of life without which the count and countess could not conceive\r
+of existence remained unchanged. There was still the hunting\r
+establishment which Nicholas had even enlarged, the same fifty horses\r
+and fifteen grooms in the stables, the same expensive presents and\r
+dinner parties to the whole district on name days; there were still the\r
+count's games of whist and boston, at which--spreading out his cards so\r
+that everybody could see them--he let himself be plundered of hundreds\r
+of rubles every day by his neighbors, who looked upon an opportunity to\r
+play a rubber with Count Rostov as a most profitable source of income.\r
+\r
+The count moved in his affairs as in a huge net, trying not to believe\r
+that he was entangled but becoming more and more so at every step, and\r
+feeling too feeble to break the meshes or to set to work carefully and\r
+patiently to disentangle them. The countess, with her loving heart, felt\r
+that her children were being ruined, that it was not the count's fault\r
+for he could not help being what he was--that (though he tried to hide\r
+it) he himself suffered from the consciousness of his own and his\r
+children's ruin, and she tried to find means of remedying the position.\r
+From her feminine point of view she could see only one solution, namely,\r
+for Nicholas to marry a rich heiress. She felt this to be their last\r
+hope and that if Nicholas refused the match she had found for him, she\r
+would have to abandon the hope of ever getting matters right. This match\r
+was with Julie Karagina, the daughter of excellent and virtuous parents,\r
+a girl the Rostovs had known from childhood, and who had now become a\r
+wealthy heiress through the death of the last of her brothers.\r
+\r
+The countess had written direct to Julie's mother in Moscow suggesting a\r
+marriage between their children and had received a favorable answer from\r
+her. Karagina had replied that for her part she was agreeable, and\r
+everything depend on her daughter's inclination. She invited Nicholas to\r
+come to Moscow.\r
+\r
+Several times the countess, with tears in her eyes, told her son that\r
+now both her daughters were settled, her only wish was to see him\r
+married. She said she could lie down in her grave peacefully if that\r
+were accomplished. Then she told him that she knew of a splendid girl\r
+and tried to discover what he thought about marriage.\r
+\r
+At other times she praised Julie to him and advised him to go to Moscow\r
+during the holidays to amuse himself. Nicholas guessed what his mother's\r
+remarks were leading to and during one of these conversations induced\r
+her to speak quite frankly. She told him that her only hope of getting\r
+their affairs disentangled now lay in his marrying Julie Karagina.\r
+\r
+"But, Mamma, suppose I loved a girl who has no fortune, would you expect\r
+me to sacrifice my feelings and my honor for the sake of money?" he\r
+asked his mother, not realizing the cruelty of his question and only\r
+wishing to show his noble-mindedness.\r
+\r
+"No, you have not understood me," said his mother, not knowing how to\r
+justify herself. "You have not understood me, Nikolenka. It is your\r
+happiness I wish for," she added, feeling that she was telling an\r
+untruth and was becoming entangled. She began to cry.\r
+\r
+"Mamma, don't cry! Only tell me that you wish it, and you know I will\r
+give my life, anything, to put you at ease," said Nicholas. "I would\r
+sacrifice anything for you--even my feelings."\r
+\r
+But the countess did not want the question put like that: she did not\r
+want a sacrifice from her son, she herself wished to make a sacrifice\r
+for him.\r
+\r
+"No, you have not understood me, don't let us talk about it," she\r
+replied, wiping away her tears.\r
+\r
+"Maybe I do love a poor girl," said Nicholas to himself. "Am I to\r
+sacrifice my feelings and my honor for money? I wonder how Mamma could\r
+speak so to me. Because Sonya is poor I must not love her," he thought,\r
+"must not respond to her faithful, devoted love? Yet I should certainly\r
+be happier with her than with some doll-like Julie. I can always\r
+sacrifice my feelings for my family's welfare," he said to himself, "but\r
+I can't coerce my feelings. If I love Sonya, that feeling is for me\r
+stronger and higher than all else."\r
+\r
+Nicholas did not go to Moscow, and the countess did not renew the\r
+conversation with him about marriage. She saw with sorrow, and sometimes\r
+with exasperation, symptoms of a growing attachment between her son and\r
+the portionless Sonya. Though she blamed herself for it, she could not\r
+refrain from grumbling at and worrying Sonya, often pulling her up\r
+without reason, addressing her stiffly as "my dear," and using the\r
+formal "you" instead of the intimate "thou" in speaking to her. The\r
+kindhearted countess was the more vexed with Sonya because that poor,\r
+dark-eyed niece of hers was so meek, so kind, so devotedly grateful to\r
+her benefactors, and so faithfully, unchangingly, and unselfishly in\r
+love with Nicholas, that there were no grounds for finding fault with\r
+her.\r
+\r
+Nicholas was spending the last of his leave at home. A fourth letter had\r
+come from Prince Andrew, from Rome, in which he wrote that he would have\r
+been on his way back to Russia long ago had not his wound unexpectedly\r
+reopened in the warm climate, which obliged him to defer his return till\r
+the beginning of the new year. Natasha was still as much in love with\r
+her betrothed, found the same comfort in that love, and was still as\r
+ready to throw herself into all the pleasures of life as before; but at\r
+the end of the fourth month of their separation she began to have fits\r
+of depression which she could not master. She felt sorry for herself:\r
+sorry that she was being wasted all this time and of no use to anyone--\r
+while she felt herself so capable of loving and being loved.\r
+\r
+Things were not cheerful in the Rostovs' home.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+Christmas came and except for the ceremonial Mass, the solemn and\r
+wearisome Christmas congratulations from neighbors and servants, and the\r
+new dresses everyone put on, there were no special festivities, though\r
+the calm frost of twenty degrees Reaumur, the dazzling sunshine by day,\r
+and the starlight of the winter nights seemed to call for some special\r
+celebration of the season.\r
+\r
+On the third day of Christmas week, after the midday dinner, all the\r
+inmates of the house dispersed to various rooms. It was the dullest time\r
+of the day. Nicholas, who had been visiting some neighbors that morning,\r
+was asleep on the sitting-room sofa. The old count was resting in his\r
+study. Sonya sat in the drawing room at the round table, copying a\r
+design for embroidery. The countess was playing patience. Nastasya\r
+Ivanovna the buffoon sat with a sad face at the window with two old\r
+ladies. Natasha came into the room, went up to Sonya, glanced at what\r
+she was doing, and then went up to her mother and stood without\r
+speaking.\r
+\r
+"Why are you wandering about like an outcast?" asked her mother. "What\r
+do you want?"\r
+\r
+"Him... I want him... now, this minute! I want him!" said Natasha, with\r
+glittering eyes and no sign of a smile.\r
+\r
+The countess lifted her head and looked attentively at her daughter.\r
+\r
+"Don't look at me, Mamma! Don't look; I shall cry directly."\r
+\r
+"Sit down with me a little," said the countess.\r
+\r
+"Mamma, I want him. Why should I be wasted like this, Mamma?"\r
+\r
+Her voice broke, tears gushed from her eyes, and she turned quickly to\r
+hide them and left the room.\r
+\r
+She passed into the sitting room, stood there thinking awhile, and then\r
+went into the maids' room. There an old maidservant was grumbling at a\r
+young girl who stood panting, having just run in through the cold from\r
+the serfs' quarters.\r
+\r
+"Stop playing--there's a time for everything," said the old woman.\r
+\r
+"Let her alone, Kondratevna," said Natasha. "Go, Mavrushka, go."\r
+\r
+Having released Mavrushka, Natasha crossed the dancing hall and went to\r
+the vestibule. There an old footman and two young ones were playing\r
+cards. They broke off and rose as she entered.\r
+\r
+"What can I do with them?" thought Natasha.\r
+\r
+"Oh, Nikita, please go... where can I send him?... Yes, go to the yard\r
+and fetch a fowl, please, a cock, and you, Misha, bring me some oats."\r
+\r
+"Just a few oats?" said Misha, cheerfully and readily.\r
+\r
+"Go, go quickly," the old man urged him.\r
+\r
+"And you, Theodore, get me a piece of chalk."\r
+\r
+On her way past the butler's pantry she told them to set a samovar,\r
+though it was not at all the time for tea.\r
+\r
+Foka, the butler, was the most ill-tempered person in the house. Natasha\r
+liked to test her power over him. He distrusted the order and asked\r
+whether the samovar was really wanted.\r
+\r
+"Oh dear, what a young lady!" said Foka, pretending to frown at Natasha.\r
+\r
+No one in the house sent people about or gave them as much trouble as\r
+Natasha did. She could not see people unconcernedly, but had to send\r
+them on some errand. She seemed to be trying whether any of them would\r
+get angry or sulky with her; but the serfs fulfilled no one's orders so\r
+readily as they did hers. "What can I do, where can I go?" thought she,\r
+as she went slowly along the passage.\r
+\r
+"Nastasya Ivanovna, what sort of children shall I have?" she asked the\r
+buffoon, who was coming toward her in a woman's jacket.\r
+\r
+"Why, fleas, crickets, grasshoppers," answered the buffoon.\r
+\r
+"O Lord, O Lord, it's always the same! Oh, where am I to go? What am I\r
+to do with myself?" And tapping with her heels, she ran quickly upstairs\r
+to see Vogel and his wife who lived on the upper story.\r
+\r
+Two governesses were sitting with the Vogels at a table, on which were\r
+plates of raisins, walnuts, and almonds. The governesses were discussing\r
+whether it was cheaper to live in Moscow or Odessa. Natasha sat down,\r
+listened to their talk with a serious and thoughtful air, and then got\r
+up again.\r
+\r
+"The island of Madagascar," she said, "Ma-da-gas-car," she repeated,\r
+articulating each syllable distinctly, and, not replying to Madame\r
+Schoss who asked her what she was saying, she went out of the room.\r
+\r
+Her brother Petya was upstairs too; with the man in attendance on him he\r
+was preparing fireworks to let off that night.\r
+\r
+"Petya! Petya!" she called to him. "Carry me downstairs."\r
+\r
+Petya ran up and offered her his back. She jumped on it, putting her\r
+arms round his neck, and he pranced along with her.\r
+\r
+"No, don't... the island of Madagascar!" she said, and jumping off his\r
+back she went downstairs.\r
+\r
+Having as it were reviewed her kingdom, tested her power, and made sure\r
+that everyone was submissive, but that all the same it was dull, Natasha\r
+betook herself to the ballroom, picked up her guitar, sat down in a dark\r
+corner behind a bookcase, and began to run her fingers over the strings\r
+in the bass, picking out a passage she recalled from an opera she had\r
+heard in Petersburg with Prince Andrew. What she drew from the guitar\r
+would have had no meaning for other listeners, but in her imagination a\r
+whole series of reminiscences arose from those sounds. She sat behind\r
+the bookcase with her eyes fixed on a streak of light escaping from the\r
+pantry door and listened to herself and pondered. She was in a mood for\r
+brooding on the past.\r
+\r
+Sonya passed to the pantry with a glass in her hand. Natasha glanced at\r
+her and at the crack in the pantry door, and it seemed to her that she\r
+remembered the light falling through that crack once before and Sonya\r
+passing with a glass in her hand. "Yes it was exactly the same," thought\r
+Natasha.\r
+\r
+"Sonya, what is this?" she cried, twanging a thick string.\r
+\r
+"Oh, you are there!" said Sonya with a start, and came near and\r
+listened. "I don't know. A storm?" she ventured timidly, afraid of being\r
+wrong.\r
+\r
+"There! That's just how she started and just how she came up smiling\r
+timidly when all this happened before," thought Natasha, "and in just\r
+the same way I thought there was something lacking in her."\r
+\r
+"No, it's the chorus from The Water-Carrier, listen!" and Natasha sang\r
+the air of the chorus so that Sonya should catch it. "Where were you\r
+going?" she asked.\r
+\r
+"To change the water in this glass. I am just finishing the design."\r
+\r
+"You always find something to do, but I can't," said Natasha. "And\r
+where's Nicholas?"\r
+\r
+"Asleep, I think."\r
+\r
+"Sonya, go and wake him," said Natasha. "Tell him I want him to come and\r
+sing."\r
+\r
+She sat awhile, wondering what the meaning of it all having happened\r
+before could be, and without solving this problem, or at all regretting\r
+not having done so, she again passed in fancy to the time when she was\r
+with him and he was looking at her with a lover's eyes.\r
+\r
+"Oh, if only he would come quicker! I am so afraid it will never be!\r
+And, worst of all, I am growing old--that's the thing! There won't then\r
+be in me what there is now. But perhaps he'll come today, will come\r
+immediately. Perhaps he has come and is sitting in the drawing room.\r
+Perhaps he came yesterday and I have forgotten it." She rose, put down\r
+the guitar, and went to the drawing room.\r
+\r
+All the domestic circle, tutors, governesses, and guests, were already\r
+at the tea table. The servants stood round the table--but Prince Andrew\r
+was not there and life was going on as before.\r
+\r
+"Ah, here she is!" said the old count, when he saw Natasha enter. "Well,\r
+sit down by me." But Natasha stayed by her mother and glanced round as\r
+if looking for something.\r
+\r
+"Mamma!" she muttered, "give him to me, give him, Mamma, quickly,\r
+quickly!" and she again had difficulty in repressing her sobs.\r
+\r
+She sat down at the table and listened to the conversation between the\r
+elders and Nicholas, who had also come to the table. "My God, my God!\r
+The same faces, the same talk, Papa holding his cup and blowing in the\r
+same way!" thought Natasha, feeling with horror a sense of repulsion\r
+rising up in her for the whole household, because they were always the\r
+same.\r
+\r
+After tea, Nicholas, Sonya, and Natasha went to the sitting room, to\r
+their favorite corner where their most intimate talks always began.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+"Does it ever happen to you," said Natasha to her brother, when they\r
+settled down in the sitting room, "does it ever happen to you to feel as\r
+if there were nothing more to come--nothing; that everything good is\r
+past? And to feel not exactly dull, but sad?"\r
+\r
+"I should think so!" he replied. "I have felt like that when everything\r
+was all right and everyone was cheerful. The thought has come into my\r
+mind that I was already tired of it all, and that we must all die. Once\r
+in the regiment I had not gone to some merrymaking where there was\r
+music... and suddenly I felt so depressed..."\r
+\r
+"Oh yes, I know, I know, I know!" Natasha interrupted him. "When I was\r
+quite little that used to be so with me. Do you remember when I was\r
+punished once about some plums? You were all dancing, and I sat sobbing\r
+in the schoolroom? I shall never forget it: I felt sad and sorry for\r
+everyone, for myself, and for everyone. And I was innocent--that was the\r
+chief thing," said Natasha. "Do you remember?"\r
+\r
+"I remember," answered Nicholas. "I remember that I came to you\r
+afterwards and wanted to comfort you, but do you know, I felt ashamed\r
+to. We were terribly absurd. I had a funny doll then and wanted to give\r
+it to you. Do you remember?"\r
+\r
+"And do you remember," Natasha asked with a pensive smile, "how once,\r
+long, long ago, when we were quite little, Uncle called us into the\r
+study--that was in the old house--and it was dark--we went in and\r
+suddenly there stood..."\r
+\r
+"A Negro," chimed in Nicholas with a smile of delight. "Of course I\r
+remember. Even now I don't know whether there really was a Negro, or if\r
+we only dreamed it or were told about him."\r
+\r
+"He was gray, you remember, and had white teeth, and stood and looked at\r
+us..."\r
+\r
+"Sonya, do you remember?" asked Nicholas.\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes, I do remember something too," Sonya answered timidly.\r
+\r
+"You know I have asked Papa and Mamma about that Negro," said Natasha,\r
+"and they say there was no Negro at all. But you see, you remember!"\r
+\r
+"Of course I do, I remember his teeth as if I had just seen them."\r
+\r
+"How strange it is! It's as if it were a dream! I like that."\r
+\r
+"And do you remember how we rolled hard-boiled eggs in the ballroom, and\r
+suddenly two old women began spinning round on the carpet? Was that real\r
+or not? Do you remember what fun it was?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, and you remember how Papa in his blue overcoat fired a gun in the\r
+porch?"\r
+\r
+So they went through their memories, smiling with pleasure: not the sad\r
+memories of old age, but poetic, youthful ones--those impressions of\r
+one's most distant past in which dreams and realities blend--and they\r
+laughed with quiet enjoyment.\r
+\r
+Sonya, as always, did not quite keep pace with them, though they shared\r
+the same reminiscences.\r
+\r
+Much that they remembered had slipped from her mind, and what she\r
+recalled did not arouse the same poetic feeling as they experienced. She\r
+simply enjoyed their pleasure and tried to fit in with it.\r
+\r
+She only really took part when they recalled Sonya's first arrival. She\r
+told them how afraid she had been of Nicholas because he had on a corded\r
+jacket and her nurse had told her that she, too, would be sewn up with\r
+cords.\r
+\r
+"And I remember their telling me that you had been born under a\r
+cabbage," said Natasha, "and I remember that I dared not disbelieve it\r
+then, but knew that it was not true, and I felt so uncomfortable."\r
+\r
+While they were talking a maid thrust her head in at the other door of\r
+the sitting room.\r
+\r
+"They have brought the cock, Miss," she said in a whisper.\r
+\r
+"It isn't wanted, Petya. Tell them to take it away," replied Natasha.\r
+\r
+In the middle of their talk in the sitting room, Dimmler came in and\r
+went up to the harp that stood there in a corner. He took off its cloth\r
+covering, and the harp gave out a jarring sound.\r
+\r
+"Mr. Dimmler, please play my favorite nocturne by Field," came the old\r
+countess' voice from the drawing room.\r
+\r
+Dimmler struck a chord and, turning to Natasha, Nicholas, and Sonya,\r
+remarked: "How quiet you young people are!"\r
+\r
+"Yes, we're philosophizing," said Natasha, glancing round for a moment\r
+and then continuing the conversation. They were now discussing dreams.\r
+\r
+Dimmler began to play; Natasha went on tiptoe noiselessly to the table,\r
+took up a candle, carried it out, and returned, seating herself quietly\r
+in her former place. It was dark in the room especially where they were\r
+sitting on the sofa, but through the big windows the silvery light of\r
+the full moon fell on the floor. Dimmler had finished the piece but\r
+still sat softly running his fingers over the strings, evidently\r
+uncertain whether to stop or to play something else.\r
+\r
+"Do you know," said Natasha in a whisper, moving closer to Nicholas and\r
+Sonya, "that when one goes on and on recalling memories, one at last\r
+begins to remember what happened before one was in the world..."\r
+\r
+"That is metempsychosis," said Sonya, who had always learned well, and\r
+remembered everything. "The Egyptians believed that our souls have lived\r
+in animals, and will go back into animals again."\r
+\r
+"No, I don't believe we ever were in animals," said Natasha, still in a\r
+whisper though the music had ceased. "But I am certain that we were\r
+angels somewhere there, and have been here, and that is why we\r
+remember...."\r
+\r
+"May I join you?" said Dimmler who had come up quietly, and he sat down\r
+by them.\r
+\r
+"If we have been angels, why have we fallen lower?" said Nicholas. "No,\r
+that can't be!"\r
+\r
+"Not lower, who said we were lower?... How do I know what I was before?"\r
+Natasha rejoined with conviction. "The soul is immortal--well then, if I\r
+shall always live I must have lived before, lived for a whole eternity."\r
+\r
+"Yes, but it is hard for us to imagine eternity," remarked Dimmler, who\r
+had joined the young folk with a mildly condescending smile but now\r
+spoke as quietly and seriously as they.\r
+\r
+"Why is it hard to imagine eternity?" said Natasha. "It is now today,\r
+and it will be tomorrow, and always; and there was yesterday, and the\r
+day before..."\r
+\r
+"Natasha! Now it's your turn. Sing me something," they heard the\r
+countess say. "Why are you sitting there like conspirators?"\r
+\r
+"Mamma, I don't at all want to," replied Natasha, but all the same she\r
+rose.\r
+\r
+None of them, not even the middle-aged Dimmler, wanted to break off\r
+their conversation and quit that corner in the sitting room, but Natasha\r
+got up and Nicholas sat down at the clavichord. Standing as usual in the\r
+middle of the hall and choosing the place where the resonance was best,\r
+Natasha began to sing her mother's favorite song.\r
+\r
+She had said she did not want to sing, but it was long since she had\r
+sung, and long before she again sang, as she did that evening. The\r
+count, from his study where he was talking to Mitenka, heard her and,\r
+like a schoolboy in a hurry to run out to play, blundered in his talk\r
+while giving orders to the steward, and at last stopped, while Mitenka\r
+stood in front of him also listening and smiling. Nicholas did not take\r
+his eyes off his sister and drew breath in time with her. Sonya, as she\r
+listened, thought of the immense difference there was between herself\r
+and her friend, and how impossible it was for her to be anything like as\r
+bewitching as her cousin. The old countess sat with a blissful yet sad\r
+smile and with tears in her eyes, occasionally shaking her head. She\r
+thought of Natasha and of her own youth, and of how there was something\r
+unnatural and dreadful in this impending marriage of Natasha and Prince\r
+Andrew.\r
+\r
+Dimmler, who had seated himself beside the countess, listened with\r
+closed eyes.\r
+\r
+"Ah, Countess," he said at last, "that's a European talent, she has\r
+nothing to learn--what softness, tenderness, and strength...."\r
+\r
+"Ah, how afraid I am for her, how afraid I am!" said the countess, not\r
+realizing to whom she was speaking. Her maternal instinct told her that\r
+Natasha had too much of something, and that because of this she would\r
+not be happy. Before Natasha had finished singing, fourteen-year-old\r
+Petya rushed in delightedly, to say that some mummers had arrived.\r
+\r
+Natasha stopped abruptly.\r
+\r
+"Idiot!" she screamed at her brother and, running to a chair, threw\r
+herself on it, sobbing so violently that she could not stop for a long\r
+time.\r
+\r
+"It's nothing, Mamma, really it's nothing; only Petya startled me," she\r
+said, trying to smile, but her tears still flowed and sobs still choked\r
+her.\r
+\r
+The mummers (some of the house serfs) dressed up as bears, Turks,\r
+innkeepers, and ladies--frightening and funny--bringing in with them the\r
+cold from outside and a feeling of gaiety, crowded, at first timidly,\r
+into the anteroom, then hiding behind one another they pushed into the\r
+ballroom where, shyly at first and then more and more merrily and\r
+heartily, they started singing, dancing, and playing Christmas games.\r
+The countess, when she had identified them and laughed at their\r
+costumes, went into the drawing room. The count sat in the ballroom,\r
+smiling radiantly and applauding the players. The young people had\r
+disappeared.\r
+\r
+Half an hour later there appeared among the other mummers in the\r
+ballroom an old lady in a hooped skirt--this was Nicholas. A Turkish\r
+girl was Petya. A clown was Dimmler. An hussar was Natasha, and a\r
+Circassian was Sonya with burnt-cork mustache and eyebrows.\r
+\r
+After the condescending surprise, nonrecognition, and praise, from those\r
+who were not themselves dressed up, the young people decided that their\r
+costumes were so good that they ought to be shown elsewhere.\r
+\r
+Nicholas, who, as the roads were in splendid condition, wanted to take\r
+them all for a drive in his troyka, proposed to take with them about a\r
+dozen of the serf mummers and drive to "Uncle's."\r
+\r
+"No, why disturb the old fellow?" said the countess. "Besides, you\r
+wouldn't have room to turn round there. If you must go, go to the\r
+Melyukovs'."\r
+\r
+Melyukova was a widow, who, with her family and their tutors and\r
+governesses, lived three miles from the Rostovs.\r
+\r
+"That's right, my dear," chimed in the old count, thoroughly aroused.\r
+"I'll dress up at once and go with them. I'll make Pashette open her\r
+eyes."\r
+\r
+But the countess would not agree to his going; he had had a bad leg all\r
+these last days. It was decided that the count must not go, but that if\r
+Louisa Ivanovna (Madame Schoss) would go with them, the young ladies\r
+might go to the Melyukovs', Sonya, generally so timid and shy, more\r
+urgently than anyone begging Louisa Ivanovna not to refuse.\r
+\r
+Sonya's costume was the best of all. Her mustache and eyebrows were\r
+extraordinarily becoming. Everyone told her she looked very handsome,\r
+and she was in a spirited and energetic mood unusual with her. Some\r
+inner voice told her that now or never her fate would be decided, and in\r
+her male attire she seemed quite a different person. Louisa Ivanovna\r
+consented to go, and in half an hour four troyka sleighs with large and\r
+small bells, their runners squeaking and whistling over the frozen snow,\r
+drove up to the porch.\r
+\r
+Natasha was foremost in setting a merry holiday tone, which, passing\r
+from one to another, grew stronger and reached its climax when they all\r
+came out into the frost and got into the sleighs, talking, calling to\r
+one another, laughing, and shouting.\r
+\r
+Two of the troykas were the usual household sleighs, the third was the\r
+old count's with a trotter from the Orlov stud as shaft horse, the\r
+fourth was Nicholas' own with a short shaggy black shaft horse.\r
+Nicholas, in his old lady's dress over which he had belted his hussar\r
+overcoat, stood in the middle of the sleigh, reins in hand.\r
+\r
+It was so light that he could see the moonlight reflected from the metal\r
+harness disks and from the eyes of the horses, who looked round in alarm\r
+at the noisy party under the shadow of the porch roof.\r
+\r
+Natasha, Sonya, Madame Schoss, and two maids got into Nicholas' sleigh;\r
+Dimmler, his wife, and Petya, into the old count's, and the rest of the\r
+mummers seated themselves in the other two sleighs.\r
+\r
+"You go ahead, Zakhar!" shouted Nicholas to his father's coachman,\r
+wishing for a chance to race past him.\r
+\r
+The old count's troyka, with Dimmler and his party, started forward,\r
+squeaking on its runners as though freezing to the snow, its deep-toned\r
+bell clanging. The side horses, pressing against the shafts of the\r
+middle horse, sank in the snow, which was dry and glittered like sugar,\r
+and threw it up.\r
+\r
+Nicholas set off, following the first sleigh; behind him the others\r
+moved noisily, their runners squeaking. At first they drove at a steady\r
+trot along the narrow road. While they drove past the garden the shadows\r
+of the bare trees often fell across the road and hid the brilliant\r
+moonlight, but as soon as they were past the fence, the snowy plain\r
+bathed in moonlight and motionless spread out before them glittering\r
+like diamonds and dappled with bluish shadows. Bang, bang! went the\r
+first sleigh over a cradle hole in the snow of the road, and each of the\r
+other sleighs jolted in the same way, and rudely breaking the frost-\r
+bound stillness, the troykas began to speed along the road, one after\r
+the other.\r
+\r
+"A hare's track, a lot of tracks!" rang out Natasha's voice through the\r
+frost-bound air.\r
+\r
+"How light it is, Nicholas!" came Sonya's voice.\r
+\r
+Nicholas glanced round at Sonya, and bent down to see her face closer.\r
+Quite a new, sweet face with black eyebrows and mustaches peeped up at\r
+him from her sable furs--so close and yet so distant--in the moonlight.\r
+\r
+"That used to be Sonya," thought he, and looked at her closer and\r
+smiled.\r
+\r
+"What is it, Nicholas?"\r
+\r
+"Nothing," said he and turned again to the horses.\r
+\r
+When they came out onto the beaten highroad--polished by sleigh runners\r
+and cut up by rough-shod hoofs, the marks of which were visible in the\r
+moonlight--the horses began to tug at the reins of their own accord and\r
+increased their pace. The near side horse, arching his head and breaking\r
+into a short canter, tugged at his traces. The shaft horse swayed from\r
+side to side, moving his ears as if asking: "Isn't it time to begin\r
+now?" In front, already far ahead the deep bell of the sleigh ringing\r
+farther and farther off, the black horses driven by Zakhar could be\r
+clearly seen against the white snow. From that sleigh one could hear the\r
+shouts, laughter, and voices of the mummers.\r
+\r
+"Gee up, my darlings!" shouted Nicholas, pulling the reins to one side\r
+and flourishing the whip.\r
+\r
+It was only by the keener wind that met them and the jerks given by the\r
+side horses who pulled harder--ever increasing their gallop--that one\r
+noticed how fast the troyka was flying. Nicholas looked back. With\r
+screams squeals, and waving of whips that caused even the shaft horses\r
+to gallop--the other sleighs followed. The shaft horse swung steadily\r
+beneath the bow over its head, with no thought of slackening pace and\r
+ready to put on speed when required.\r
+\r
+Nicholas overtook the first sleigh. They were driving downhill and\r
+coming out upon a broad trodden track across a meadow, near a river.\r
+\r
+"Where are we?" thought he. "It's the Kosoy meadow, I suppose. But no--\r
+this is something new I've never seen before. This isn't the Kosoy\r
+meadow nor the Demkin hill, and heaven only knows what it is! It is\r
+something new and enchanted. Well, whatever it may be..." And shouting\r
+to his horses, he began to pass the first sleigh.\r
+\r
+Zakhar held back his horses and turned his face, which was already\r
+covered with hoarfrost to his eyebrows.\r
+\r
+Nicholas gave the horses the rein, and Zakhar, stretching out his arms,\r
+clucked his tongue and let his horses go.\r
+\r
+"Now, look out, master!" he cried.\r
+\r
+Faster still the two troykas flew side by side, and faster moved the\r
+feet of the galloping side horses. Nicholas began to draw ahead. Zakhar,\r
+while still keeping his arms extended, raised one hand with the reins.\r
+\r
+"No you won't, master!" he shouted.\r
+\r
+Nicholas put all his horses to a gallop and passed Zakhar. The horses\r
+showered the fine dry snow on the faces of those in the sleigh--beside\r
+them sounded quick ringing bells and they caught confused glimpses of\r
+swiftly moving legs and the shadows of the troyka they were passing. The\r
+whistling sound of the runners on the snow and the voices of girls\r
+shrieking were heard from different sides.\r
+\r
+Again checking his horses, Nicholas looked around him. They were still\r
+surrounded by the magic plain bathed in moonlight and spangled with\r
+stars.\r
+\r
+"Zakhar is shouting that I should turn to the left, but why to the\r
+left?" thought Nicholas. "Are we getting to the Melyukovs'? Is this\r
+Melyukovka? Heaven only knows where we are going, and heaven knows what\r
+is happening to us--but it is very strange and pleasant whatever it is."\r
+And he looked round in the sleigh.\r
+\r
+"Look, his mustache and eyelashes are all white!" said one of the\r
+strange, pretty, unfamiliar people--the one with fine eyebrows and\r
+mustache.\r
+\r
+"I think this used to be Natasha," thought Nicholas, "and that was\r
+Madame Schoss, but perhaps it's not, and this Circassian with the\r
+mustache I don't know, but I love her."\r
+\r
+"Aren't you cold?" he asked.\r
+\r
+They did not answer but began to laugh. Dimmler from the sleigh behind\r
+shouted something--probably something funny--but they could not make out\r
+what he said.\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes!" some voices answered, laughing.\r
+\r
+"But here was a fairy forest with black moving shadows, and a glitter of\r
+diamonds and a flight of marble steps and the silver roofs of fairy\r
+buildings and the shrill yells of some animals. And if this is really\r
+Melyukovka, it is still stranger that we drove heaven knows where and\r
+have come to Melyukovka," thought Nicholas.\r
+\r
+It really was Melyukovka, and maids and footmen with merry faces came\r
+running, out to the porch carrying candles.\r
+\r
+"Who is it?" asked someone in the porch.\r
+\r
+"The mummers from the count's. I know by the horses," replied some\r
+voices.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+Pelageya Danilovna Melyukova, a broadly built, energetic woman wearing\r
+spectacles, sat in the drawing room in a loose dress, surrounded by her\r
+daughters whom she was trying to keep from feeling dull. They were\r
+quietly dropping melted wax into snow and looking at the shadows the wax\r
+figures would throw on the wall, when they heard the steps and voices of\r
+new arrivals in the vestibule.\r
+\r
+Hussars, ladies, witches, clowns, and bears, after clearing their\r
+throats and wiping the hoarfrost from their faces in the vestibule, came\r
+into the ballroom where candles were hurriedly lighted. The clown--\r
+Dimmler--and the lady--Nicholas--started a dance. Surrounded by the\r
+screaming children the mummers, covering their faces and disguising\r
+their voices, bowed to their hostess and arranged themselves about the\r
+room.\r
+\r
+"Dear me! there's no recognizing them! And Natasha! See whom she looks\r
+like! She really reminds me of somebody. But Herr Dimmler--isn't he\r
+good! I didn't know him! And how he dances. Dear me, there's a\r
+Circassian. Really, how becoming it is to dear Sonya. And who is that?\r
+Well, you have cheered us up! Nikita and Vanya--clear away the tables!\r
+And we were sitting so quietly. Ha, ha, ha!... The hussar, the hussar!\r
+Just like a boy! And the legs!... I can't look at him..." different\r
+voices were saying.\r
+\r
+Natasha, the young Melyukovs' favorite, disappeared with them into the\r
+back rooms where a cork and various dressing gowns and male garments\r
+were called for and received from the footman by bare girlish arms from\r
+behind the door. Ten minutes later, all the young Melyukovs joined the\r
+mummers.\r
+\r
+Pelageya Danilovna, having given orders to clear the rooms for the\r
+visitors and arranged about refreshments for the gentry and the serfs,\r
+went about among the mummers without removing her spectacles, peering\r
+into their faces with a suppressed smile and failing to recognize any of\r
+them. It was not merely Dimmler and the Rostovs she failed to recognize,\r
+she did not even recognize her own daughters, or her late husband's,\r
+dressing gowns and uniforms, which they had put on.\r
+\r
+"And who is this?" she asked her governess, peering into the face of her\r
+own daughter dressed up as a Kazan-Tartar. "I suppose it is one of the\r
+Rostovs! Well, Mr. Hussar, and what regiment do you serve in?" she asked\r
+Natasha. "Here, hand some fruit jelly to the Turk!" she ordered the\r
+butler who was handing things round. "That's not forbidden by his law."\r
+\r
+Sometimes, as she looked at the strange but amusing capers cut by the\r
+dancers, who--having decided once for all that being disguised, no one\r
+would recognize them--were not at all shy, Pelageya Danilovna hid her\r
+face in her handkerchief, and her whole stout body shook with\r
+irrepressible, kindly, elderly laughter.\r
+\r
+"My little Sasha! Look at Sasha!" she said.\r
+\r
+After Russian country dances and chorus dances, Pelageya Danilovna made\r
+the serfs and gentry join in one large circle: a ring, a string, and a\r
+silver ruble were fetched and they all played games together.\r
+\r
+In an hour, all the costumes were crumpled and disordered. The corked\r
+eyebrows and mustaches were smeared over the perspiring, flushed, and\r
+merry faces. Pelageya Danilovna began to recognize the mummers, admired\r
+their cleverly contrived costumes, and particularly how they suited the\r
+young ladies, and she thanked them all for having entertained her so\r
+well. The visitors were invited to supper in the drawing room, and the\r
+serfs had something served to them in the ballroom.\r
+\r
+"Now to tell one's fortune in the empty bathhouse is frightening!" said\r
+an old maid who lived with the Melyukovs, during supper.\r
+\r
+"Why?" said the eldest Melyukov girl.\r
+\r
+"You wouldn't go, it takes courage..."\r
+\r
+"I'll go," said Sonya.\r
+\r
+"Tell what happened to the young lady!" said the second Melyukov girl.\r
+\r
+"Well," began the old maid, "a young lady once went out, took a cock,\r
+laid the table for two, all properly, and sat down. After sitting a\r
+while, she suddenly hears someone coming... a sleigh drives up with\r
+harness bells; she hears him coming! He comes in, just in the shape of a\r
+man, like an officer--comes in and sits down to table with her."\r
+\r
+"Ah! ah!" screamed Natasha, rolling her eyes with horror.\r
+\r
+"Yes? And how... did he speak?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, like a man. Everything quite all right, and he began persuading\r
+her; and she should have kept him talking till cockcrow, but she got\r
+frightened, just got frightened and hid her face in her hands. Then he\r
+caught her up. It was lucky the maids ran in just then..."\r
+\r
+"Now, why frighten them?" said Pelageya Danilovna.\r
+\r
+"Mamma, you used to try your fate yourself..." said her daughter.\r
+\r
+"And how does one do it in a barn?" inquired Sonya.\r
+\r
+"Well, say you went to the barn now, and listened. It depends on what\r
+you hear; hammering and knocking--that's bad; but a sound of shifting\r
+grain is good and one sometimes hears that, too."\r
+\r
+"Mamma, tell us what happened to you in the barn."\r
+\r
+Pelageya Danilovna smiled.\r
+\r
+"Oh, I've forgotten..." she replied. "But none of you would go?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, I will; Pelageya Danilovna, let me! I'll go," said Sonya.\r
+\r
+"Well, why not, if you're not afraid?"\r
+\r
+"Louisa Ivanovna, may I?" asked Sonya.\r
+\r
+Whether they were playing the ring and string game or the ruble game or\r
+talking as now, Nicholas did not leave Sonya's side, and gazed at her\r
+with quite new eyes. It seemed to him that it was only today, thanks to\r
+that burnt-cork mustache, that he had fully learned to know her. And\r
+really, that evening, Sonya was brighter, more animated, and prettier\r
+than Nicholas had ever seen her before.\r
+\r
+"So that's what she is like; what a fool I have been!" he thought gazing\r
+at her sparkling eyes, and under the mustache a happy rapturous smile\r
+dimpled her cheeks, a smile he had never seen before.\r
+\r
+"I'm not afraid of anything," said Sonya. "May I go at once?" She got\r
+up.\r
+\r
+They told her where the barn was and how she should stand and listen,\r
+and they handed her a fur cloak. She threw this over her head and\r
+shoulders and glanced at Nicholas.\r
+\r
+"What a darling that girl is!" thought he. "And what have I been\r
+thinking of till now?"\r
+\r
+Sonya went out into the passage to go to the barn. Nicholas went hastily\r
+to the front porch, saying he felt too hot. The crowd of people really\r
+had made the house stuffy.\r
+\r
+Outside, there was the same cold stillness and the same moon, but even\r
+brighter than before. The light was so strong and the snow sparkled with\r
+so many stars that one did not wish to look up at the sky and the real\r
+stars were unnoticed. The sky was black and dreary, while the earth was\r
+gay.\r
+\r
+"I am a fool, a fool! what have I been waiting for?" thought Nicholas,\r
+and running out from the porch he went round the corner of the house and\r
+along the path that led to the back porch. He knew Sonya would pass that\r
+way. Halfway lay some snow-covered piles of firewood and across and\r
+along them a network of shadows from the bare old lime trees fell on the\r
+snow and on the path. This path led to the barn. The log walls of the\r
+barn and its snow-covered roof, that looked as if hewn out of some\r
+precious stone, sparkled in the moonlight. A tree in the garden snapped\r
+with the frost, and then all was again perfectly silent. His bosom\r
+seemed to inhale not air but the strength of eternal youth and gladness.\r
+\r
+From the back porch came the sound of feet descending the steps, the\r
+bottom step upon which snow had fallen gave a ringing creak and he heard\r
+the voice of an old maidservant saying, "Straight, straight, along the\r
+path, Miss. Only, don't look back."\r
+\r
+"I am not afraid," answered Sonya's voice, and along the path toward\r
+Nicholas came the crunching, whistling sound of Sonya's feet in her thin\r
+shoes.\r
+\r
+Sonya came along, wrapped in her cloak. She was only a couple of paces\r
+away when she saw him, and to her too he was not the Nicholas she had\r
+known and always slightly feared. He was in a woman's dress, with\r
+tousled hair and a happy smile new to Sonya. She ran rapidly toward him.\r
+\r
+"Quite different and yet the same," thought Nicholas, looking at her\r
+face all lit up by the moonlight. He slipped his arms under the cloak\r
+that covered her head, embraced her, pressed her to him, and kissed her\r
+on the lips that wore a mustache and had a smell of burnt cork. Sonya\r
+kissed him full on the lips, and disengaging her little hands pressed\r
+them to his cheeks.\r
+\r
+"Sonya!... Nicholas!"... was all they said. They ran to the barn and\r
+then back again, re-entering, he by the front and she by the back porch.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+When they all drove back from Pelageya Danilovna's, Natasha, who always\r
+saw and noticed everything, arranged that she and Madame Schoss should\r
+go back in the sleigh with Dimmler, and Sonya with Nicholas and the\r
+maids.\r
+\r
+On the way back Nicholas drove at a steady pace instead of racing and\r
+kept peering by that fantastic all-transforming light into Sonya's face\r
+and searching beneath the eyebrows and mustache for his former and his\r
+present Sonya from whom he had resolved never to be parted again. He\r
+looked and recognizing in her both the old and the new Sonya, and being\r
+reminded by the smell of burnt cork of the sensation of her kiss,\r
+inhaled the frosty air with a full breast and, looking at the ground\r
+flying beneath him and at the sparkling sky, felt himself again in\r
+fairyland.\r
+\r
+"Sonya, is it well with thee?" he asked from time to time.\r
+\r
+"Yes!" she replied. "And with thee?"\r
+\r
+When halfway home Nicholas handed the reins to the coachman and ran for\r
+a moment to Natasha's sleigh and stood on its wing.\r
+\r
+"Natasha!" he whispered in French, "do you know I have made up my mind\r
+about Sonya?"\r
+\r
+"Have you told her?" asked Natasha, suddenly beaming all over with joy.\r
+\r
+"Oh, how strange you are with that mustache and those eyebrows!...\r
+Natasha--are you glad?"\r
+\r
+"I am so glad, so glad! I was beginning to be vexed with you. I did not\r
+tell you, but you have been treating her badly. What a heart she has,\r
+Nicholas! I am horrid sometimes, but I was ashamed to be happy while\r
+Sonya was not," continued Natasha. "Now I am so glad! Well, run back to\r
+her."\r
+\r
+"No, wait a bit.... Oh, how funny you look!" cried Nicholas, peering\r
+into her face and finding in his sister too something new, unusual, and\r
+bewitchingly tender that he had not seen in her before. "Natasha, it's\r
+magical, isn't it?"\r
+\r
+"Yes," she replied. "You have done splendidly."\r
+\r
+"Had I seen her before as she is now," thought Nicholas, "I should long\r
+ago have asked her what to do and have done whatever she told me, and\r
+all would have been well."\r
+\r
+"So you are glad and I have done right?"\r
+\r
+"Oh, quite right! I had a quarrel with Mamma some time ago about it.\r
+Mamma said she was angling for you. How could she say such a thing! I\r
+nearly stormed at Mamma. I will never let anyone say anything bad of\r
+Sonya, for there is nothing but good in her."\r
+\r
+"Then it's all right?" said Nicholas, again scrutinizing the expression\r
+of his sister's face to see if she was in earnest. Then he jumped down\r
+and, his boots scrunching the snow, ran back to his sleigh. The same\r
+happy, smiling Circassian, with mustache and beaming eyes looking up\r
+from under a sable hood, was still sitting there, and that Circassian\r
+was Sonya, and that Sonya was certainly his future happy and loving\r
+wife.\r
+\r
+When they reached home and had told their mother how they had spent the\r
+evening at the Melyukovs', the girls went to their bedroom. When they\r
+had undressed, but without washing off the cork mustaches, they sat a\r
+long time talking of their happiness. They talked of how they would live\r
+when they were married, how their husbands would be friends, and how\r
+happy they would be. On Natasha's table stood two looking glasses which\r
+Dunyasha had prepared beforehand.\r
+\r
+"Only when will all that be? I am afraid never.... It would be too\r
+good!" said Natasha, rising and going to the looking glasses.\r
+\r
+"Sit down, Natasha; perhaps you'll see him," said Sonya.\r
+\r
+Natasha lit the candles, one on each side of one of the looking glasses,\r
+and sat down.\r
+\r
+"I see someone with a mustache," said Natasha, seeing her own face.\r
+\r
+"You mustn't laugh, Miss," said Dunyasha.\r
+\r
+With Sonya's help and the maid's, Natasha got the glass she held into\r
+the right position opposite the other; her face assumed a serious\r
+expression and she sat silent. She sat a long time looking at the\r
+receding line of candles reflected in the glasses and expecting (from\r
+tales she had heard) to see a coffin, or him, Prince Andrew, in that\r
+last dim, indistinctly outlined square. But ready as she was to take the\r
+smallest speck for the image of a man or of a coffin, she saw nothing.\r
+She began blinking rapidly and moved away from the looking glasses.\r
+\r
+"Why is it others see things and I don't?" she said. "You sit down now,\r
+Sonya. You absolutely must, tonight! Do it for me.... Today I feel so\r
+frightened!"\r
+\r
+Sonya sat down before the glasses, got the right position, and began\r
+looking.\r
+\r
+"Now, Miss Sonya is sure to see something," whispered Dunyasha; "while\r
+you do nothing but laugh."\r
+\r
+Sonya heard this and Natasha's whisper:\r
+\r
+"I know she will. She saw something last year."\r
+\r
+For about three minutes all were silent.\r
+\r
+"Of course she will!" whispered Natasha, but did not finish... suddenly\r
+Sonya pushed away the glass she was holding and covered her eyes with\r
+her hand.\r
+\r
+"Oh, Natasha!" she cried.\r
+\r
+"Did you see? Did you? What was it?" exclaimed Natasha, holding up the\r
+looking glass.\r
+\r
+Sonya had not seen anything, she was just wanting to blink and to get up\r
+when she heard Natasha say, "Of course she will!" She did not wish to\r
+disappoint either Dunyasha or Natasha, but it was hard to sit still. She\r
+did not herself know how or why the exclamation escaped her when she\r
+covered her eyes.\r
+\r
+"You saw him?" urged Natasha, seizing her hand.\r
+\r
+"Yes. Wait a bit... I... saw him," Sonya could not help saying, not yet\r
+knowing whom Natasha meant by him, Nicholas or Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+"But why shouldn't I say I saw something? Others do see! Besides who can\r
+tell whether I saw anything or not?" flashed through Sonya's mind.\r
+\r
+"Yes, I saw him," she said.\r
+\r
+"How? Standing or lying?"\r
+\r
+"No, I saw... At first there was nothing, then I saw him lying down."\r
+\r
+"Andrew lying? Is he ill?" asked Natasha, her frightened eyes fixed on\r
+her friend.\r
+\r
+"No, on the contrary, on the contrary! His face was cheerful, and he\r
+turned to me." And when saying this she herself fancied she had really\r
+seen what she described.\r
+\r
+"Well, and then, Sonya?..."\r
+\r
+"After that, I could not make out what there was; something blue and\r
+red..."\r
+\r
+"Sonya! When will he come back? When shall I see him! O, God, how afraid\r
+I am for him and for myself and about everything!..." Natasha began, and\r
+without replying to Sonya's words of comfort she got into bed, and long\r
+after her candle was out lay open-eyed and motionless, gazing at the\r
+moonlight through the frosty windowpanes.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIII\r
+\r
+Soon after the Christmas holidays Nicholas told his mother of his love\r
+for Sonya and of his firm resolve to marry her. The countess, who had\r
+long noticed what was going on between them and was expecting this\r
+declaration, listened to him in silence and then told her son that he\r
+might marry whom he pleased, but that neither she nor his father would\r
+give their blessing to such a marriage. Nicholas, for the first time,\r
+felt that his mother was displeased with him and that, despite her love\r
+for him, she would not give way. Coldly, without looking at her son, she\r
+sent for her husband and, when he came, tried briefly and coldly to\r
+inform him of the facts, in her son's presence, but unable to restrain\r
+herself she burst into tears of vexation and left the room. The old\r
+count began irresolutely to admonish Nicholas and beg him to abandon his\r
+purpose. Nicholas replied that he could not go back on his word, and his\r
+father, sighing and evidently disconcerted, very soon became silent and\r
+went in to the countess. In all his encounters with his son, the count\r
+was always conscious of his own guilt toward him for having wasted the\r
+family fortune, and so he could not be angry with him for refusing to\r
+marry an heiress and choosing the dowerless Sonya. On this occasion, he\r
+was only more vividly conscious of the fact that if his affairs had not\r
+been in disorder, no better wife for Nicholas than Sonya could have been\r
+wished for, and that no one but himself with his Mitenka and his\r
+uncomfortable habits was to blame for the condition of the family\r
+finances.\r
+\r
+The father and mother did not speak of the matter to their son again,\r
+but a few days later the countess sent for Sonya and, with a cruelty\r
+neither of them expected, reproached her niece for trying to catch\r
+Nicholas and for ingratitude. Sonya listened silently with downcast eyes\r
+to the countess' cruel words, without understanding what was required of\r
+her. She was ready to sacrifice everything for her benefactors. Self-\r
+sacrifice was her most cherished idea but in this case she could not see\r
+what she ought to sacrifice, or for whom. She could not help loving the\r
+countess and the whole Rostov family, but neither could she help loving\r
+Nicholas and knowing that his happiness depended on that love. She was\r
+silent and sad and did not reply. Nicholas felt the situation to be\r
+intolerable and went to have an explanation with his mother. He first\r
+implored her to forgive him and Sonya and consent to their marriage,\r
+then he threatened that if she molested Sonya he would at once marry her\r
+secretly.\r
+\r
+The countess, with a coldness her son had never seen in her before,\r
+replied that he was of age, that Prince Andrew was marrying without his\r
+father's consent, and he could do the same, but that she would never\r
+receive that intriguer as her daughter.\r
+\r
+Exploding at the word intriguer, Nicholas, raising his voice, told his\r
+mother he had never expected her to try to force him to sell his\r
+feelings, but if that were so, he would say for the last time.... But he\r
+had no time to utter the decisive word which the expression of his face\r
+caused his mother to await with terror, and which would perhaps have\r
+forever remained a cruel memory to them both. He had not time to say it,\r
+for Natasha, with a pale and set face, entered the room from the door at\r
+which she had been listening.\r
+\r
+"Nicholas, you are talking nonsense! Be quiet, be quiet, be quiet, I\r
+tell you!..." she almost screamed, so as to drown his voice.\r
+\r
+"Mamma darling, it's not at all so... my poor, sweet darling," she said\r
+to her mother, who conscious that they had been on the brink of a\r
+rupture gazed at her son with terror, but in the obstinacy and\r
+excitement of the conflict could not and would not give way.\r
+\r
+"Nicholas, I'll explain to you. Go away! Listen, Mamma darling," said\r
+Natasha.\r
+\r
+Her words were incoherent, but they attained the purpose at which she\r
+was aiming.\r
+\r
+The countess, sobbing heavily, hid her face on her daughter's breast,\r
+while Nicholas rose, clutching his head, and left the room.\r
+\r
+Natasha set to work to effect a reconciliation, and so far succeeded\r
+that Nicholas received a promise from his mother that Sonya should not\r
+be troubled, while he on his side promised not to undertake anything\r
+without his parents' knowledge.\r
+\r
+Firmly resolved, after putting his affairs in order in the regiment, to\r
+retire from the army and return and marry Sonya, Nicholas, serious,\r
+sorrowful, and at variance with his parents, but, as it seemed to him,\r
+passionately in love, left at the beginning of January to rejoin his\r
+regiment.\r
+\r
+After Nicholas had gone things in the Rostov household were more\r
+depressing than ever, and the countess fell ill from mental agitation.\r
+\r
+Sonya was unhappy at the separation from Nicholas and still more so on\r
+account of the hostile tone the countess could not help adopting toward\r
+her. The count was more perturbed than ever by the condition of his\r
+affairs, which called for some decisive action. Their town house and\r
+estate near Moscow had inevitably to be sold, and for this they had to\r
+go to Moscow. But the countess' health obliged them to delay their\r
+departure from day to day.\r
+\r
+Natasha, who had borne the first period of separation from her betrothed\r
+lightly and even cheerfully, now grew more agitated and impatient every\r
+day. The thought that her best days, which she would have employed in\r
+loving him, were being vainly wasted, with no advantage to anyone,\r
+tormented her incessantly. His letters for the most part irritated her.\r
+It hurt her to think that while she lived only in the thought of him, he\r
+was living a real life, seeing new places and new people that interested\r
+him. The more interesting his letters were the more vexed she felt. Her\r
+letters to him, far from giving her any comfort, seemed to her a\r
+wearisome and artificial obligation. She could not write, because she\r
+could not conceive the possibility of expressing sincerely in a letter\r
+even a thousandth part of what she expressed by voice, smile, and\r
+glance. She wrote to him formal, monotonous, and dry letters, to which\r
+she attached no importance herself, and in the rough copies of which the\r
+countess corrected her mistakes in spelling.\r
+\r
+There was still no improvement in the countess' health, but it was\r
+impossible to defer the journey to Moscow any longer. Natasha's\r
+trousseau had to be ordered and the house sold. Moreover, Prince Andrew\r
+was expected in Moscow, where old Prince Bolkonski was spending the\r
+winter, and Natasha felt sure he had already arrived.\r
+\r
+So the countess remained in the country, and the count, taking Sonya and\r
+Natasha with him, went to Moscow at the end of January.\r
+\r
+BOOK EIGHT: 1811 - 12\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+After Prince Andrew's engagement to Natasha, Pierre without any apparent\r
+cause suddenly felt it impossible to go on living as before. Firmly\r
+convinced as he was of the truths revealed to him by his benefactor, and\r
+happy as he had been in perfecting his inner man, to which he had\r
+devoted himself with such ardor--all the zest of such a life vanished\r
+after the engagement of Andrew and Natasha and the death of Joseph\r
+Alexeevich, the news of which reached him almost at the same time. Only\r
+the skeleton of life remained: his house, a brilliant wife who now\r
+enjoyed the favors of a very important personage, acquaintance with all\r
+Petersburg, and his court service with its dull formalities. And this\r
+life suddenly seemed to Pierre unexpectedly loathsome. He ceased keeping\r
+a diary, avoided the company of the Brothers, began going to the club\r
+again, drank a great deal, and came once more in touch with the bachelor\r
+sets, leading such a life that the Countess Helene thought it necessary\r
+to speak severely to him about it. Pierre felt that she was right, and\r
+to avoid compromising her went away to Moscow.\r
+\r
+In Moscow as soon as he entered his huge house in which the faded and\r
+fading princesses still lived, with its enormous retinue; as soon as,\r
+driving through the town, he saw the Iberian shrine with innumerable\r
+tapers burning before the golden covers of the icons, the Kremlin Square\r
+with its snow undisturbed by vehicles, the sleigh drivers and hovels of\r
+the Sivtsev Vrazhok, those old Moscovites who desired nothing, hurried\r
+nowhere, and were ending their days leisurely; when he saw those old\r
+Moscow ladies, the Moscow balls, and the English Club, he felt himself\r
+at home in a quiet haven. In Moscow he felt at peace, at home, warm and\r
+dirty as in an old dressing gown.\r
+\r
+Moscow society, from the old women down to the children, received Pierre\r
+like a long-expected guest whose place was always ready awaiting him.\r
+For Moscow society Pierre was the nicest, kindest, most intellectual,\r
+merriest, and most magnanimous of cranks, a heedless, genial nobleman of\r
+the old Russian type. His purse was always empty because it was open to\r
+everyone.\r
+\r
+Benefit performances, poor pictures, statues, benevolent societies,\r
+gypsy choirs, schools, subscription dinners, sprees, Freemasons,\r
+churches, and books--no one and nothing met with a refusal from him, and\r
+had it not been for two friends who had borrowed large sums from him and\r
+taken him under their protection, he would have given everything away.\r
+There was never a dinner or soiree at the club without him. As soon as\r
+he sank into his place on the sofa after two bottles of Margaux he was\r
+surrounded, and talking, disputing, and joking began. When there were\r
+quarrels, his kindly smile and well-timed jests reconciled the\r
+antagonists. The masonic dinners were dull and dreary when he was not\r
+there.\r
+\r
+When after a bachelor supper he rose with his amiable and kindly smile,\r
+yielding to the entreaties of the festive company to drive off somewhere\r
+with them, shouts of delight and triumph arose among the young men. At\r
+balls he danced if a partner was needed. Young ladies, married and\r
+unmarried, liked him because without making love to any of them, he was\r
+equally amiable to all, especially after supper. "Il est charmant; il\r
+n'a pas de sexe," * they said of him.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "He is charming; he has no sex."\r
+\r
+Pierre was one of those retired gentlemen-in-waiting of whom there were\r
+hundreds good-humoredly ending their days in Moscow.\r
+\r
+How horrified he would have been seven years before, when he first\r
+arrived from abroad, had he been told that there was no need for him to\r
+seek or plan anything, that his rut had long been shaped, eternally\r
+predetermined, and that wriggle as he might, he would be what all in his\r
+position were. He could not have believed it! Had he not at one time\r
+longed with all his heart to establish a republic in Russia; then\r
+himself to be a Napoleon; then to be a philosopher; and then a\r
+strategist and the conqueror of Napoleon? Had he not seen the\r
+possibility of, and passionately desired, the regeneration of the sinful\r
+human race, and his own progress to the highest degree of perfection?\r
+Had he not established schools and hospitals and liberated his serfs?\r
+\r
+But instead of all that--here he was, the wealthy husband of an\r
+unfaithful wife, a retired gentleman-in-waiting, fond of eating and\r
+drinking and, as he unbuttoned his waistcoat, of abusing the government\r
+a bit, a member of the Moscow English Club, and a universal favorite in\r
+Moscow society. For a long time he could not reconcile himself to the\r
+idea that he was one of those same retired Moscow gentlemen-in-waiting\r
+he had so despised seven years before.\r
+\r
+Sometimes he consoled himself with the thought that he was only living\r
+this life temporarily; but then he was shocked by the thought of how\r
+many, like himself, had entered that life and that club temporarily,\r
+with all their teeth and hair, and had only left it when not a single\r
+tooth or hair remained.\r
+\r
+In moments of pride, when he thought of his position it seemed to him\r
+that he was quite different and distinct from those other retired\r
+gentlemen-in-waiting he had formerly despised: they were empty, stupid,\r
+contented fellows, satisfied with their position, "while I am still\r
+discontented and want to do something for mankind. But perhaps all these\r
+comrades of mine struggled just like me and sought something new, a path\r
+in life of their own, and like me were brought by force of\r
+circumstances, society, and race--by that elemental force against which\r
+man is powerless--to the condition I am in," said he to himself in\r
+moments of humility; and after living some time in Moscow he no longer\r
+despised, but began to grow fond of, to respect, and to pity his\r
+comrades in destiny, as he pitied himself.\r
+\r
+Pierre no longer suffered moments of despair, hypochondria, and disgust\r
+with life, but the malady that had formerly found expression in such\r
+acute attacks was driven inwards and never left him for a moment. "What\r
+for? Why? What is going on in the world?" he would ask himself in\r
+perplexity several times a day, involuntarily beginning to reflect anew\r
+on the meaning of the phenomena of life; but knowing by experience that\r
+there were no answers to these questions he made haste to turn away from\r
+them, and took up a book, or hurried off to the club or to Apollon\r
+Nikolaevich's, to exchange the gossip of the town.\r
+\r
+"Helene, who has never cared for anything but her own body and is one of\r
+the stupidest women in the world," thought Pierre, "is regarded by\r
+people as the acme of intelligence and refinement, and they pay homage\r
+to her. Napoleon Bonaparte was despised by all as long as he was great,\r
+but now that he has become a wretched comedian the Emperor Francis wants\r
+to offer him his daughter in an illegal marriage. The Spaniards, through\r
+the Catholic clergy, offer praise to God for their victory over the\r
+French on the fourteenth of June, and the French, also through the\r
+Catholic clergy, offer praise because on that same fourteenth of June\r
+they defeated the Spaniards. My brother Masons swear by the blood that\r
+they are ready to sacrifice everything for their neighbor, but they do\r
+not give a ruble each to the collections for the poor, and they\r
+intrigue, the Astraea Lodge against the Manna Seekers, and fuss about an\r
+authentic Scotch carpet and a charter that nobody needs, and the meaning\r
+of which the very man who wrote it does not understand. We all profess\r
+the Christian law of forgiveness of injuries and love of our neighbors,\r
+the law in honor of which we have built in Moscow forty times forty\r
+churches--but yesterday a deserter was knouted to death and a minister\r
+of that same law of love and forgiveness, a priest, gave the soldier a\r
+cross to kiss before his execution." So thought Pierre, and the whole of\r
+this general deception which everyone accepts, accustomed as he was to\r
+it, astonished him each time as if it were something new. "I understand\r
+the deception and confusion," he thought, "but how am I to tell them all\r
+that I see? I have tried, and have always found that they too in the\r
+depths of their souls understand it as I do, and only try not to see it.\r
+So it appears that it must be so! But I--what is to become of me?"\r
+thought he. He had the unfortunate capacity many men, especially\r
+Russians, have of seeing and believing in the possibility of goodness\r
+and truth, but of seeing the evil and falsehood of life too clearly to\r
+be able to take a serious part in it. Every sphere of work was\r
+connected, in his eyes, with evil and deception. Whatever he tried to\r
+be, whatever he engaged in, the evil and falsehood of it repulsed him\r
+and blocked every path of activity. Yet he had to live and to find\r
+occupation. It was too dreadful to be under the burden of these\r
+insoluble problems, so he abandoned himself to any distraction in order\r
+to forget them. He frequented every kind of society, drank much, bought\r
+pictures, engaged in building, and above all--read.\r
+\r
+He read, and read everything that came to hand. On coming home, while\r
+his valets were still taking off his things, he picked up a book and\r
+began to read. From reading he passed to sleeping, from sleeping to\r
+gossip in drawing rooms of the club, from gossip to carousals and women;\r
+from carousals back to gossip, reading, and wine. Drinking became more\r
+and more a physical and also a moral necessity. Though the doctors\r
+warned him that with his corpulence wine was dangerous for him, he drank\r
+a great deal. He was only quite at ease when having poured several\r
+glasses of wine mechanically into his large mouth he felt a pleasant\r
+warmth in his body, an amiability toward all his fellows, and a\r
+readiness to respond superficially to every idea without probing it\r
+deeply. Only after emptying a bottle or two did he feel dimly that the\r
+terribly tangled skein of life which previously had terrified him was\r
+not as dreadful as he had thought. He was always conscious of some\r
+aspect of that skein, as with a buzzing in his head after dinner or\r
+supper he chatted or listened to conversation or read. But under the\r
+influence of wine he said to himself: "It doesn't matter. I'll get it\r
+unraveled. I have a solution ready, but have no time now--I'll think it\r
+all out later on!" But the later on never came.\r
+\r
+In the morning, on an empty stomach, all the old questions appeared as\r
+insoluble and terrible as ever, and Pierre hastily picked up a book, and\r
+if anyone came to see him he was glad.\r
+\r
+Sometimes he remembered how he had heard that soldiers in war when\r
+entrenched under the enemy's fire, if they have nothing to do, try hard\r
+to find some occupation the more easily to bear the danger. To Pierre\r
+all men seemed like those soldiers, seeking refuge from life: some in\r
+ambition, some in cards, some in framing laws, some in women, some in\r
+toys, some in horses, some in politics, some in sport, some in wine, and\r
+some in governmental affairs. "Nothing is trivial, and nothing is\r
+important, it's all the same--only to save oneself from it as best one\r
+can," thought Pierre. "Only not to see it, that dreadful it!"\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+At the beginning of winter Prince Nicholas Bolkonski and his daughter\r
+moved to Moscow. At that time enthusiasm for the Emperor Alexander's\r
+regime had weakened and a patriotic and anti-French tendency prevailed\r
+there, and this, together with his past and his intellect and his\r
+originality, at once made Prince Nicholas Bolkonski an object of\r
+particular respect to the Moscovites and the center of the Moscow\r
+opposition to the government.\r
+\r
+The prince had aged very much that year. He showed marked signs of\r
+senility by a tendency to fall asleep, forgetfulness of quite recent\r
+events, remembrance of remote ones, and the childish vanity with which\r
+he accepted the role of head of the Moscow opposition. In spite of this\r
+the old man inspired in all his visitors alike a feeling of respectful\r
+veneration--especially of an evening when he came in to tea in his old-\r
+fashioned coat and powdered wig and, aroused by anyone, told his abrupt\r
+stories of the past, or uttered yet more abrupt and scathing criticisms\r
+of the present. For them all, that old-fashioned house with its gigantic\r
+mirrors, pre-Revolution furniture, powdered footmen, and the stern\r
+shrewd old man (himself a relic of the past century) with his gentle\r
+daughter and the pretty Frenchwoman who were reverently devoted to him\r
+presented a majestic and agreeable spectacle. But the visitors did not\r
+reflect that besides the couple of hours during which they saw their\r
+host, there were also twenty-two hours in the day during which the\r
+private and intimate life of the house continued.\r
+\r
+Latterly that private life had become very trying for Princess Mary.\r
+There in Moscow she was deprived of her greatest pleasures--talks with\r
+the pilgrims and the solitude which refreshed her at Bald Hills--and she\r
+had none of the advantages and pleasures of city life. She did not go\r
+out into society; everyone knew that her father would not let her go\r
+anywhere without him, and his failing health prevented his going out\r
+himself, so that she was not invited to dinners and evening parties. She\r
+had quite abandoned the hope of getting married. She saw the coldness\r
+and malevolence with which the old prince received and dismissed the\r
+young men, possible suitors, who sometimes appeared at their house. She\r
+had no friends: during this visit to Moscow she had been disappointed in\r
+the two who had been nearest to her. Mademoiselle Bourienne, with whom\r
+she had never been able to be quite frank, had now become unpleasant to\r
+her, and for various reasons Princess Mary avoided her. Julie, with whom\r
+she had corresponded for the last five years, was in Moscow, but proved\r
+to be quite alien to her when they met. Just then Julie, who by the\r
+death of her brothers had become one of the richest heiresses in Moscow,\r
+was in the full whirl of society pleasures. She was surrounded by young\r
+men who, she fancied, had suddenly learned to appreciate her worth.\r
+Julie was at that stage in the life of a society woman when she feels\r
+that her last chance of marrying has come and that her fate must be\r
+decided now or never. On Thursdays Princess Mary remembered with a\r
+mournful smile that she now had no one to write to, since Julie--whose\r
+presence gave her no pleasure was here and they met every week. Like the\r
+old emigre who declined to marry the lady with whom he had spent his\r
+evenings for years, she regretted Julie's presence and having no one to\r
+write to. In Moscow Princess Mary had no one to talk to, no one to whom\r
+to confide her sorrow, and much sorrow fell to her lot just then. The\r
+time for Prince Andrew's return and marriage was approaching, but his\r
+request to her to prepare his father for it had not been carried out; in\r
+fact, it seemed as if matters were quite hopeless, for at every mention\r
+of the young Countess Rostova the old prince (who apart from that was\r
+usually in a bad temper) lost control of himself. Another lately added\r
+sorrow arose from the lessons she gave her six year-old nephew. To her\r
+consternation she detected in herself in relation to little Nicholas\r
+some symptoms of her father's irritability. However often she told\r
+herself that she must not get irritable when teaching her nephew, almost\r
+every time that, pointer in hand, she sat down to show him the French\r
+alphabet, she so longed to pour her own knowledge quickly and easily\r
+into the child--who was already afraid that Auntie might at any moment\r
+get angry--that at his slightest inattention she trembled, became\r
+flustered and heated, raised her voice, and sometimes pulled him by the\r
+arm and put him in the corner. Having put him in the corner she would\r
+herself begin to cry over her cruel, evil nature, and little Nicholas,\r
+following her example, would sob, and without permission would leave his\r
+corner, come to her, pull her wet hands from her face, and comfort her.\r
+But what distressed the princess most of all was her father's\r
+irritability, which was always directed against her and had of late\r
+amounted to cruelty. Had he forced her to prostrate herself to the\r
+ground all night, had he beaten her or made her fetch wood or water, it\r
+would never have entered her mind to think her position hard; but this\r
+loving despot--the more cruel because he loved her and for that reason\r
+tormented himself and her--knew how not merely to hurt and humiliate her\r
+deliberately, but to show her that she was always to blame for\r
+everything. Of late he had exhibited a new trait that tormented Princess\r
+Mary more than anything else; this was his ever-increasing intimacy with\r
+Mademoiselle Bourienne. The idea that at the first moment of receiving\r
+the news of his son's intentions had occurred to him in jest--that if\r
+Andrew got married he himself would marry Bourienne--had evidently\r
+pleased him, and latterly he had persistently, and as it seemed to\r
+Princess Mary merely to offend her, shown special endearments to the\r
+companion and expressed his dissatisfaction with his daughter by\r
+demonstrations of love of Bourienne.\r
+\r
+One day in Moscow in Princess Mary's presence (she thought her father\r
+did it purposely when she was there) the old prince kissed Mademoiselle\r
+Bourienne's hand and, drawing her to him, embraced her affectionately.\r
+Princess Mary flushed and ran out of the room. A few minutes later\r
+Mademoiselle Bourienne came into Princess Mary's room smiling and making\r
+cheerful remarks in her agreeable voice. Princess Mary hastily wiped\r
+away her tears, went resolutely up to Mademoiselle Bourienne, and\r
+evidently unconscious of what she was doing began shouting in angry\r
+haste at the Frenchwoman, her voice breaking: "It's horrible, vile,\r
+inhuman, to take advantage of the weakness..." She did not finish.\r
+"Leave my room," she exclaimed, and burst into sobs.\r
+\r
+Next day the prince did not say a word to his daughter, but she noticed\r
+that at dinner he gave orders that Mademoiselle Bourienne should be\r
+served first. After dinner, when the footman handed coffee and from\r
+habit began with the princess, the prince suddenly grew furious, threw\r
+his stick at Philip, and instantly gave instructions to have him\r
+conscripted for the army.\r
+\r
+"He doesn't obey... I said it twice... and he doesn't obey! She is the\r
+first person in this house; she's my best friend," cried the prince.\r
+"And if you allow yourself," he screamed in a fury, addressing Princess\r
+Mary for the first time, "to forget yourself again before her as you\r
+dared to do yesterday, I will show you who is master in this house. Go!\r
+Don't let me set eyes on you; beg her pardon!"\r
+\r
+Princess Mary asked Mademoiselle Bourienne's pardon, and also her\r
+father's pardon for herself and for Philip the footman, who had begged\r
+for her intervention.\r
+\r
+At such moments something like a pride of sacrifice gathered in her\r
+soul. And suddenly that father whom she had judged would look for his\r
+spectacles in her presence, fumbling near them and not seeing them, or\r
+would forget something that had just occurred, or take a false step with\r
+his failing legs and turn to see if anyone had noticed his feebleness,\r
+or, worst of all, at dinner when there were no visitors to excite him\r
+would suddenly fall asleep, letting his napkin drop and his shaking head\r
+sink over his plate. "He is old and feeble, and I dare to condemn him!"\r
+she thought at such moments, with a feeling of revulsion against\r
+herself.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+In 1811 there was living in Moscow a French doctor--Metivier--who had\r
+rapidly become the fashion. He was enormously tall, handsome, amiable as\r
+Frenchmen are, and was, as all Moscow said, an extraordinarily clever\r
+doctor. He was received in the best houses not merely as a doctor, but\r
+as an equal.\r
+\r
+Prince Nicholas had always ridiculed medicine, but latterly on\r
+Mademoiselle Bourienne's advice had allowed this doctor to visit him and\r
+had grown accustomed to him. Metivier came to see the prince about twice\r
+a week.\r
+\r
+On December 6--St. Nicholas' Day and the prince's name day--all Moscow\r
+came to the prince's front door but he gave orders to admit no one and\r
+to invite to dinner only a small number, a list of whom he gave to\r
+Princess Mary.\r
+\r
+Metivier, who came in the morning with his felicitations, considered it\r
+proper in his quality of doctor de forcer la consigne, * as he told\r
+Princess Mary, and went in to see the prince. It happened that on that\r
+morning of his name day the prince was in one of his worst moods. He had\r
+been going about the house all the morning finding fault with everyone\r
+and pretending not to understand what was said to him and not to be\r
+understood himself. Princess Mary well knew this mood of quiet absorbed\r
+querulousness, which generally culminated in a burst of rage, and she\r
+went about all that morning as though facing a cocked and loaded gun and\r
+awaited the inevitable explosion. Until the doctor's arrival the morning\r
+had passed off safely. After admitting the doctor, Princess Mary sat\r
+down with a book in the drawing room near the door through which she\r
+could hear all that passed in the study.\r
+\r
+\r
+* To force the guard.\r
+\r
+At first she heard only Metivier's voice, then her father's, then both\r
+voices began speaking at the same time, the door was flung open, and on\r
+the threshold appeared the handsome figure of the terrified Metivier\r
+with his shock of black hair, and the prince in his dressing gown and\r
+fez, his face distorted with fury and the pupils of his eyes rolled\r
+downwards.\r
+\r
+"You don't understand?" shouted the prince, "but I do! French spy, slave\r
+of Buonaparte, spy, get out of my house! Be off, I tell you..."\r
+\r
+Metivier, shrugging his shoulders, went up to Mademoiselle Bourienne who\r
+at the sound of shouting had run in from an adjoining room.\r
+\r
+"The prince is not very well: bile and rush of blood to the head. Keep\r
+calm, I will call again tomorrow," said Metivier; and putting his\r
+fingers to his lips he hastened away.\r
+\r
+Through the study door came the sound of slippered feet and the cry:\r
+"Spies, traitors, traitors everywhere! Not a moment's peace in my own\r
+house!"\r
+\r
+After Metivier's departure the old prince called his daughter in, and\r
+the whole weight of his wrath fell on her. She was to blame that a spy\r
+had been admitted. Had he not told her, yes, told her to make a list,\r
+and not to admit anyone who was not on that list? Then why was that\r
+scoundrel admitted? She was the cause of it all. With her, he said, he\r
+could not have a moment's peace and could not die quietly.\r
+\r
+"No, ma'am! We must part, we must part! Understand that, understand it!\r
+I cannot endure any more," he said, and left the room. Then, as if\r
+afraid she might find some means of consolation, he returned and trying\r
+to appear calm added: "And don't imagine I have said this in a moment of\r
+anger. I am calm. I have thought it over, and it will be carried out--we\r
+must part; so find some place for yourself...." But he could not\r
+restrain himself and with the virulence of which only one who loves is\r
+capable, evidently suffering himself, he shook his fists at her and\r
+screamed:\r
+\r
+"If only some fool would marry her!" Then he slammed the door, sent for\r
+Mademoiselle Bourienne, and subsided into his study.\r
+\r
+At two o'clock the six chosen guests assembled for dinner.\r
+\r
+These guests--the famous Count Rostopchin, Prince Lopukhin with his\r
+nephew, General Chatrov an old war comrade of the prince's, and of the\r
+younger generation Pierre and Boris Drubetskoy--awaited the prince in\r
+the drawing room.\r
+\r
+Boris, who had come to Moscow on leave a few days before, had been\r
+anxious to be presented to Prince Nicholas Bolkonski, and had contrived\r
+to ingratiate himself so well that the old prince in his case made an\r
+exception to the rule of not receiving bachelors in his house.\r
+\r
+The prince's house did not belong to what is known as fashionable\r
+society, but his little circle--though not much talked about in town--\r
+was one it was more flattering to be received in than any other. Boris\r
+had realized this the week before when the commander-in-chief in his\r
+presence invited Rostopchin to dinner on St. Nicholas' Day, and\r
+Rostopchin had replied that he could not come:\r
+\r
+"On that day I always go to pay my devotions to the relics of Prince\r
+Nicholas Bolkonski."\r
+\r
+"Oh, yes, yes!" replied the commander-in-chief. "How is he?..."\r
+\r
+The small group that assembled before dinner in the lofty old-fashioned\r
+drawing room with its old furniture resembled the solemn gathering of a\r
+court of justice. All were silent or talked in low tones. Prince\r
+Nicholas came in serious and taciturn. Princess Mary seemed even quieter\r
+and more diffident than usual. The guests were reluctant to address her,\r
+feeling that she was in no mood for their conversation. Count Rostopchin\r
+alone kept the conversation going, now relating the latest town news,\r
+and now the latest political gossip.\r
+\r
+Lopukhin and the old general occasionally took part in the conversation.\r
+Prince Bolkonski listened as a presiding judge receives a report, only\r
+now and then, silently or by a brief word, showing that he took heed of\r
+what was being reported to him. The tone of the conversation was such as\r
+indicated that no one approved of what was being done in the political\r
+world. Incidents were related evidently confirming the opinion that\r
+everything was going from bad to worse, but whether telling a story or\r
+giving an opinion the speaker always stopped, or was stopped, at the\r
+point beyond which his criticism might touch the sovereign himself.\r
+\r
+At dinner the talk turned on the latest political news: Napoleon's\r
+seizure of the Duke of Oldenburg's territory, and the Russian Note,\r
+hostile to Napoleon, which had been sent to all the European courts.\r
+\r
+"Bonaparte treats Europe as a pirate does a captured vessel," said Count\r
+Rostopchin, repeating a phrase he had uttered several times before. "One\r
+only wonders at the long-suffering or blindness of the crowned heads.\r
+Now the Pope's turn has come and Bonaparte doesn't scruple to depose the\r
+head of the Catholic Church--yet all keep silent! Our sovereign alone\r
+has protested against the seizure of the Duke of Oldenburg's territory,\r
+and even..." Count Rostopchin paused, feeling that he had reached the\r
+limit beyond which censure was impossible.\r
+\r
+"Other territories have been offered in exchange for the Duchy of\r
+Oldenburg," said Prince Bolkonski. "He shifts the Dukes about as I might\r
+move my serfs from Bald Hills to Bogucharovo or my Ryazan estates."\r
+\r
+"The Duke of Oldenburg bears his misfortunes with admirable strength of\r
+character and resignation," remarked Boris, joining in respectfully.\r
+\r
+He said this because on his journey from Petersburg he had had the honor\r
+of being presented to the Duke. Prince Bolkonski glanced at the young\r
+man as if about to say something in reply, but changed his mind,\r
+evidently considering him too young.\r
+\r
+"I have read our protests about the Oldenburg affair and was surprised\r
+how badly the Note was worded," remarked Count Rostopchin in the casual\r
+tone of a man dealing with a subject quite familiar to him.\r
+\r
+Pierre looked at Rostopchin with naive astonishment, not understanding\r
+why he should be disturbed by the bad composition of the Note.\r
+\r
+"Does it matter, Count, how the Note is worded," he asked, "so long as\r
+its substance is forcible?"\r
+\r
+"My dear fellow, with our five hundred thousand troops it should be easy\r
+to have a good style," returned Count Rostopchin.\r
+\r
+Pierre now understood the count's dissatisfaction with the wording of\r
+the Note.\r
+\r
+"One would have thought quill drivers enough had sprung up," remarked\r
+the old prince. "There in Petersburg they are always writing--not notes\r
+only but even new laws. My Andrew there has written a whole volume of\r
+laws for Russia. Nowadays they are always writing!" and he laughed\r
+unnaturally.\r
+\r
+There was a momentary pause in the conversation; the old general cleared\r
+his throat to draw attention.\r
+\r
+"Did you hear of the last event at the review in Petersburg? The figure\r
+cut by the new French ambassador."\r
+\r
+"Eh? Yes, I heard something: he said something awkward in His Majesty's\r
+presence."\r
+\r
+"His Majesty drew attention to the Grenadier division and to the march\r
+past," continued the general, "and it seems the ambassador took no\r
+notice and allowed himself to reply that: 'We in France pay no attention\r
+to such trifles!' The Emperor did not condescend to reply. At the next\r
+review, they say, the Emperor did not once deign to address him."\r
+\r
+All were silent. On this fact relating to the Emperor personally, it was\r
+impossible to pass any judgment.\r
+\r
+"Impudent fellows!" said the prince. "You know Metivier? I turned him\r
+out of my house this morning. He was here; they admitted him in spite of\r
+my request that they should let no one in," he went on, glancing angrily\r
+at his daughter.\r
+\r
+And he narrated his whole conversation with the French doctor and the\r
+reasons that convinced him that Metivier was a spy. Though these reasons\r
+were very insufficient and obscure, no one made any rejoinder.\r
+\r
+After the roast, champagne was served. The guests rose to congratulate\r
+the old prince. Princess Mary, too, went round to him.\r
+\r
+He gave her a cold, angry look and offered her his wrinkled, clean-\r
+shaven cheek to kiss. The whole expression of his face told her that he\r
+had not forgotten the morning's talk, that his decision remained in\r
+force, and only the presence of visitors hindered his speaking of it to\r
+her now.\r
+\r
+When they went into the drawing room where coffee was served, the old\r
+men sat together.\r
+\r
+Prince Nicholas grew more animated and expressed his views on the\r
+impending war.\r
+\r
+He said that our wars with Bonaparte would be disastrous so long as we\r
+sought alliances with the Germans and thrust ourselves into European\r
+affairs, into which we had been drawn by the Peace of Tilsit. "We ought\r
+not to fight either for or against Austria. Our political interests are\r
+all in the East, and in regard to Bonaparte the only thing is to have an\r
+armed frontier and a firm policy, and he will never dare to cross the\r
+Russian frontier, as was the case in 1807!"\r
+\r
+"How can we fight the French, Prince?" said Count Rostopchin. "Can we\r
+arm ourselves against our teachers and divinities? Look at our youths,\r
+look at our ladies! The French are our Gods: Paris is our Kingdom of\r
+Heaven."\r
+\r
+He began speaking louder, evidently to be heard by everyone.\r
+\r
+"French dresses, French ideas, French feelings! There now, you turned\r
+Metivier out by the scruff of his neck because he is a Frenchman and a\r
+scoundrel, but our ladies crawl after him on their knees. I went to a\r
+party last night, and there out of five ladies three were Roman\r
+Catholics and had the Pope's indulgence for doing woolwork on Sundays.\r
+And they themselves sit there nearly naked, like the signboards at our\r
+Public Baths if I may say so. Ah, when one looks at our young people,\r
+Prince, one would like to take Peter the Great's old cudgel out of the\r
+museum and belabor them in the Russian way till all the nonsense jumps\r
+out of them."\r
+\r
+All were silent. The old prince looked at Rostopchin with a smile and\r
+wagged his head approvingly.\r
+\r
+"Well, good-by, your excellency, keep well!" said Rostopchin, getting up\r
+with characteristic briskness and holding out his hand to the prince.\r
+\r
+"Good-bye, my dear fellow.... His words are music, I never tire of\r
+hearing him!" said the old prince, keeping hold of the hand and offering\r
+his cheek to be kissed.\r
+\r
+Following Rostopchin's example the others also rose.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+Princess Mary as she sat listening to the old men's talk and\r
+faultfinding, understood nothing of what she heard; she only wondered\r
+whether the guests had all observed her father's hostile attitude toward\r
+her. She did not even notice the special attentions and amiabilities\r
+shown her during dinner by Boris Drubetskoy, who was visiting them for\r
+the third time already.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary turned with absent-minded questioning look to Pierre, who\r
+hat in hand and with a smile on his face was the last of the guests to\r
+approach her after the old prince had gone out and they were left alone\r
+in the drawing room.\r
+\r
+"May I stay a little longer?" he said, letting his stout body sink into\r
+an armchair beside her.\r
+\r
+"Oh yes," she answered. "You noticed nothing?" her look asked.\r
+\r
+Pierre was in an agreeable after-dinner mood. He looked straight before\r
+him and smiled quietly.\r
+\r
+"Have you known that young man long, Princess?" he asked.\r
+\r
+"Who?"\r
+\r
+"Drubetskoy."\r
+\r
+"No, not long..."\r
+\r
+"Do you like him?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, he is an agreeable young man.... Why do you ask me that?" said\r
+Princess Mary, still thinking of that morning's conversation with her\r
+father.\r
+\r
+"Because I have noticed that when a young man comes on leave from\r
+Petersburg to Moscow it is usually with the object of marrying an\r
+heiress."\r
+\r
+"You have observed that?" said Princess Mary.\r
+\r
+"Yes," returned Pierre with a smile, "and this young man now manages\r
+matters so that where there is a wealthy heiress there he is too. I can\r
+read him like a book. At present he is hesitating whom to lay siege to--\r
+you or Mademoiselle Julie Karagina. He is very attentive to her."\r
+\r
+"He visits them?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, very often. And do you know the new way of courting?" said Pierre\r
+with an amused smile, evidently in that cheerful mood of good humored\r
+raillery for which he so often reproached himself in his diary.\r
+\r
+"No," replied Princess Mary.\r
+\r
+"To please Moscow girls nowadays one has to be melancholy. He is very\r
+melancholy with Mademoiselle Karagina," said Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Really?" asked Princess Mary, looking into Pierre's kindly face and\r
+still thinking of her own sorrow. "It would be a relief," thought she,\r
+"if I ventured to confide what I am feeling to someone. I should like to\r
+tell everything to Pierre. He is kind and generous. It would be a\r
+relief. He would give me advice."\r
+\r
+"Would you marry him?"\r
+\r
+"Oh, my God, Count, there are moments when I would marry anybody!" she\r
+cried suddenly to her own surprise and with tears in her voice. "Ah, how\r
+bitter it is to love someone near to you and to feel that..." she went\r
+on in a trembling voice, "that you can do nothing for him but grieve\r
+him, and to know that you cannot alter this. Then there is only one\r
+thing left--to go away, but where could I go?"\r
+\r
+"What is wrong? What is it, Princess?"\r
+\r
+But without finishing what she was saying, Princess Mary burst into\r
+tears.\r
+\r
+"I don't know what is the matter with me today. Don't take any notice--\r
+forget what I have said!"\r
+\r
+Pierre's gaiety vanished completely. He anxiously questioned the\r
+princess, asked her to speak out fully and confide her grief to him; but\r
+she only repeated that she begged him to forget what she had said, that\r
+she did not remember what she had said, and that she had no trouble\r
+except the one he knew of--that Prince Andrew's marriage threatened to\r
+cause a rupture between father and son.\r
+\r
+"Have you any news of the Rostovs?" she asked, to change the subject. "I\r
+was told they are coming soon. I am also expecting Andrew any day. I\r
+should like them to meet here."\r
+\r
+"And how does he now regard the matter?" asked Pierre, referring to the\r
+old prince.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary shook her head.\r
+\r
+"What is to be done? In a few months the year will be up. The thing is\r
+impossible. I only wish I could spare my brother the first moments. I\r
+wish they would come sooner. I hope to be friends with her. You have\r
+known them a long time," said Princess Mary. "Tell me honestly the whole\r
+truth: what sort of girl is she, and what do you think of her?--The real\r
+truth, because you know Andrew is risking so much doing this against his\r
+father's will that I should like to know..."\r
+\r
+An undefined instinct told Pierre that these explanations, and repeated\r
+requests to be told the whole truth, expressed ill-will on the princess'\r
+part toward her future sister-in-law and a wish that he should\r
+disapprove of Andrew's choice; but in reply he said what he felt rather\r
+than what he thought.\r
+\r
+"I don't know how to answer your question," he said, blushing without\r
+knowing why. "I really don't know what sort of girl she is; I can't\r
+analyze her at all. She is enchanting, but what makes her so I don't\r
+know. That is all one can say about her."\r
+\r
+Princess Mary sighed, and the expression on her face said: "Yes, that's\r
+what I expected and feared."\r
+\r
+"Is she clever?" she asked.\r
+\r
+Pierre considered.\r
+\r
+"I think not," he said, "and yet--yes. She does not deign to be\r
+clever.... Oh no, she is simply enchanting, and that is all."\r
+\r
+Princess Mary again shook her head disapprovingly.\r
+\r
+"Ah, I so long to like her! Tell her so if you see her before I do."\r
+\r
+"I hear they are expected very soon," said Pierre.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary told Pierre of her plan to become intimate with her future\r
+sister-in-law as soon as the Rostovs arrived and to try to accustom the\r
+old prince to her.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+Boris had not succeeded in making a wealthy match in Petersburg, so with\r
+the same object in view he came to Moscow. There he wavered between the\r
+two richest heiresses, Julie and Princess Mary. Though Princess Mary\r
+despite her plainness seemed to him more attractive than Julie, he,\r
+without knowing why, felt awkward about paying court to her. When they\r
+had last met on the old prince's name day, she had answered at random\r
+all his attempts to talk sentimentally, evidently not listening to what\r
+he was saying.\r
+\r
+Julie on the contrary accepted his attentions readily, though in a\r
+manner peculiar to herself.\r
+\r
+She was twenty-seven. After the death of her brothers she had become\r
+very wealthy. She was by now decidedly plain, but thought herself not\r
+merely as good-looking as before but even far more attractive. She was\r
+confirmed in this delusion by the fact that she had become a very\r
+wealthy heiress and also by the fact that the older she grew the less\r
+dangerous she became to men, and the more freely they could associate\r
+with her and avail themselves of her suppers, soirees, and the animated\r
+company that assembled at her house, without incurring any obligation. A\r
+man who would have been afraid ten years before of going every day to\r
+the house when there was a girl of seventeen there, for fear of\r
+compromising her and committing himself, would now go boldly every day\r
+and treat her not as a marriageable girl but as a sexless acquaintance.\r
+\r
+That winter the Karagins' house was the most agreeable and hospitable in\r
+Moscow. In addition to the formal evening and dinner parties, a large\r
+company, chiefly of men, gathered there every day, supping at midnight\r
+and staying till three in the morning. Julie never missed a ball, a\r
+promenade, or a play. Her dresses were always of the latest fashion. But\r
+in spite of that she seemed to be disillusioned about everything and\r
+told everyone that she did not believe either in friendship or in love,\r
+or any of the joys of life, and expected peace only "yonder." She\r
+adopted the tone of one who has suffered a great disappointment, like a\r
+girl who has either lost the man she loved or been cruelly deceived by\r
+him. Though nothing of the kind had happened to her she was regarded in\r
+that light, and had even herself come to believe that she had suffered\r
+much in life. This melancholy, which did not prevent her amusing\r
+herself, did not hinder the young people who came to her house from\r
+passing the time pleasantly. Every visitor who came to the house paid\r
+his tribute to the melancholy mood of the hostess, and then amused\r
+himself with society gossip, dancing, intellectual games, and bouts\r
+rimes, which were in vogue at the Karagins'. Only a few of these young\r
+men, among them Boris, entered more deeply into Julie's melancholy, and\r
+with these she had prolonged conversations in private on the vanity of\r
+all worldly things, and to them she showed her albums filled with\r
+mournful sketches, maxims, and verses.\r
+\r
+To Boris, Julie was particularly gracious: she regretted his early\r
+disillusionment with life, offered him such consolation of friendship as\r
+she who had herself suffered so much could render, and showed him her\r
+album. Boris sketched two trees in the album and wrote: "Rustic trees,\r
+your dark branches shed gloom and melancholy upon me."\r
+\r
+On another page he drew a tomb, and wrote:\r
+\r
+\r
+La mort est secourable et la mort est tranquille. Ah! contre les\r
+douleurs il n'y a pas d'autre asile. *\r
+\r
+\r
+* Death gives relief and death is peaceful.\r
+\r
+Ah! from suffering there is no other refuge.\r
+\r
+Julie said this was charming\r
+\r
+"There is something so enchanting in the smile of melancholy," she said\r
+to Boris, repeating word for word a passage she had copied from a book.\r
+"It is a ray of light in the darkness, a shade between sadness and\r
+despair, showing the possibility of consolation."\r
+\r
+In reply Boris wrote these lines:\r
+\r
+\r
+Aliment de poison d'une ame trop sensible, Toi, sans qui le bonheur me\r
+serait impossible, Tendre melancholie, ah, viens me consoler, Viens\r
+calmer les tourments de ma sombre retraite, Et mele une douceur secrete\r
+A ces pleurs que je sens couler. *\r
+\r
+\r
+*Poisonous nourishment of a too sensitive soul, Thou, without whom\r
+happiness would for me be impossible, Tender melancholy, ah, come to\r
+console me, Come to calm the torments of my gloomy retreat, And mingle a\r
+secret sweetness With these tears that I feel to be flowing.\r
+\r
+For Boris, Julie played most doleful nocturnes on her harp. Boris read\r
+'Poor Liza' aloud to her, and more than once interrupted the reading\r
+because of the emotions that choked him. Meeting at large gatherings\r
+Julie and Boris looked on one another as the only souls who understood\r
+one another in a world of indifferent people.\r
+\r
+Anna Mikhaylovna, who often visited the Karagins, while playing cards\r
+with the mother made careful inquiries as to Julie's dowry (she was to\r
+have two estates in Penza and the Nizhegorod forests). Anna Mikhaylovna\r
+regarded the refined sadness that united her son to the wealthy Julie\r
+with emotion, and resignation to the Divine will.\r
+\r
+"You are always charming and melancholy, my dear Julie," she said to the\r
+daughter. "Boris says his soul finds repose at your house. He has\r
+suffered so many disappointments and is so sensitive," said she to the\r
+mother. "Ah, my dear, I can't tell you how fond I have grown of Julie\r
+latterly," she said to her son. "But who could help loving her? She is\r
+an angelic being! Ah, Boris, Boris!"--she paused. "And how I pity her\r
+mother," she went on; "today she showed me her accounts and letters from\r
+Penza (they have enormous estates there), and she, poor thing, has no\r
+one to help her, and they do cheat her so!"\r
+\r
+Boris smiled almost imperceptibly while listening to his mother. He\r
+laughed blandly at her naive diplomacy but listened to what she had to\r
+say, and sometimes questioned her carefully about the Penza and\r
+Nizhegorod estates.\r
+\r
+Julie had long been expecting a proposal from her melancholy adorer and\r
+was ready to accept it; but some secret feeling of repulsion for her,\r
+for her passionate desire to get married, for her artificiality, and a\r
+feeling of horror at renouncing the possibility of real love still\r
+restrained Boris. His leave was expiring. He spent every day and whole\r
+days at the Karagins', and every day on thinking the matter over told\r
+himself that he would propose tomorrow. But in Julie's presence, looking\r
+at her red face and chin (nearly always powdered), her moist eyes, and\r
+her expression of continual readiness to pass at once from melancholy to\r
+an unnatural rapture of married bliss, Boris could not utter the\r
+decisive words, though in imagination he had long regarded himself as\r
+the possessor of those Penza and Nizhegorod estates and had apportioned\r
+the use of the income from them. Julie saw Boris' indecision, and\r
+sometimes the thought occurred to her that she was repulsive to him, but\r
+her feminine self-deception immediately supplied her with consolation,\r
+and she told herself that he was only shy from love. Her melancholy,\r
+however, began to turn to irritability, and not long before Boris'\r
+departure she formed a definite plan of action. Just as Boris' leave of\r
+absence was expiring, Anatole Kuragin made his appearance in Moscow, and\r
+of course in the Karagins' drawing room, and Julie, suddenly abandoning\r
+her melancholy, became cheerful and very attentive to Kuragin.\r
+\r
+"My dear," said Anna Mikhaylovna to her son, "I know from a reliable\r
+source that Prince Vasili has sent his son to Moscow to get him married\r
+to Julie. I am so fond of Julie that I should be sorry for her. What do\r
+you think of it, my dear?"\r
+\r
+The idea of being made a fool of and of having thrown away that whole\r
+month of arduous melancholy service to Julie, and of seeing all the\r
+revenue from the Penza estates which he had already mentally apportioned\r
+and put to proper use fall into the hands of another, and especially\r
+into the hands of that idiot Anatole, pained Boris. He drove to the\r
+Karagins' with the firm intention of proposing. Julie met him in a gay,\r
+careless manner, spoke casually of how she had enjoyed yesterday's ball,\r
+and asked when he was leaving. Though Boris had come intentionally to\r
+speak of his love and therefore meant to be tender, he began speaking\r
+irritably of feminine inconstancy, of how easily women can turn from\r
+sadness to joy, and how their moods depend solely on who happens to be\r
+paying court to them. Julie was offended and replied that it was true\r
+that a woman needs variety, and the same thing over and over again would\r
+weary anyone.\r
+\r
+"Then I should advise you..." Boris began, wishing to sting her; but at\r
+that instant the galling thought occurred to him that he might have to\r
+leave Moscow without having accomplished his aim, and have vainly wasted\r
+his efforts--which was a thing he never allowed to happen.\r
+\r
+He checked himself in the middle of the sentence, lowered his eyes to\r
+avoid seeing her unpleasantly irritated and irresolute face, and said:\r
+\r
+"I did not come here at all to quarrel with you. On the contrary..."\r
+\r
+He glanced at her to make sure that he might go on. Her irritability had\r
+suddenly quite vanished, and her anxious, imploring eyes were fixed on\r
+him with greedy expectation. "I can always arrange so as not to see her\r
+often," thought Boris. "The affair has been begun and must be finished!"\r
+He blushed hotly, raised his eyes to hers, and said:\r
+\r
+"You know my feelings for you!"\r
+\r
+There was no need to say more: Julie's face shone with triumph and self-\r
+satisfaction; but she forced Boris to say all that is said on such\r
+occasions--that he loved her and had never loved any other woman more\r
+than her. She knew that for the Penza estates and Nizhegorod forests she\r
+could demand this, and she received what she demanded.\r
+\r
+The affianced couple, no longer alluding to trees that shed gloom and\r
+melancholy upon them, planned the arrangements of a splendid house in\r
+Petersburg, paid calls, and prepared everything for a brilliant wedding.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+At the end of January old Count Rostov went to Moscow with Natasha and\r
+Sonya. The countess was still unwell and unable to travel but it was\r
+impossible to wait for her recovery. Prince Andrew was expected in\r
+Moscow any day, the trousseau had to be ordered and the estate near\r
+Moscow had to be sold, besides which the opportunity of presenting his\r
+future daughter-in-law to old Prince Bolkonski while he was in Moscow\r
+could not be missed. The Rostovs' Moscow house had not been heated that\r
+winter and, as they had come only for a short time and the countess was\r
+not with them, the count decided to stay with Marya Dmitrievna\r
+Akhrosimova, who had long been pressing her hospitality on them.\r
+\r
+Late one evening the Rostovs' four sleighs drove into Marya Dmitrievna's\r
+courtyard in the old Konyusheny street. Marya Dmitrievna lived alone.\r
+She had already married off her daughter, and her sons were all in the\r
+service.\r
+\r
+She held herself as erect, told everyone her opinion as candidly,\r
+loudly, and bluntly as ever, and her whole bearing seemed a reproach to\r
+others for any weakness, passion, or temptation--the possibility of\r
+which she did not admit. From early in the morning, wearing a dressing\r
+jacket, she attended to her household affairs, and then she drove out:\r
+on holy days to church and after the service to jails and prisons on\r
+affairs of which she never spoke to anyone. On ordinary days, after\r
+dressing, she received petitioners of various classes, of whom there\r
+were always some. Then she had dinner, a substantial and appetizing meal\r
+at which there were always three or four guests; after dinner she played\r
+a game of boston, and at night she had the newspapers or a new book read\r
+to her while she knitted. She rarely made an exception and went out to\r
+pay visits, and then only to the most important persons in the town.\r
+\r
+She had not yet gone to bed when the Rostovs arrived and the pulley of\r
+the hall door squeaked from the cold as it let in the Rostovs and their\r
+servants. Marya Dmitrievna, with her spectacles hanging down on her nose\r
+and her head flung back, stood in the hall doorway looking with a stern,\r
+grim face at the new arrivals. One might have thought she was angry with\r
+the travelers and would immediately turn them out, had she not at the\r
+same time been giving careful instructions to the servants for the\r
+accommodation of the visitors and their belongings.\r
+\r
+"The count's things? Bring them here," she said, pointing to the\r
+portmanteaus and not greeting anyone. "The young ladies'? There to the\r
+left. Now what are you dawdling for?" she cried to the maids. "Get the\r
+samovar ready!... You've grown plumper and prettier," she remarked,\r
+drawing Natasha (whose cheeks were glowing from the cold) to her by the\r
+hood. "Foo! You are cold! Now take off your things, quick!" she shouted\r
+to the count who was going to kiss her hand. "You're half frozen, I'm\r
+sure! Bring some rum for tea!... Bonjour, Sonya dear!" she added,\r
+turning to Sonya and indicating by this French greeting her slightly\r
+contemptuous though affectionate attitude toward her.\r
+\r
+When they came in to tea, having taken off their outdoor things and\r
+tidied themselves up after their journey, Marya Dmitrievna kissed them\r
+all in due order.\r
+\r
+"I'm heartily glad you have come and are staying with me. It was high\r
+time," she said, giving Natasha a significant look. "The old man is here\r
+and his son's expected any day. You'll have to make his acquaintance.\r
+But we'll speak of that later on," she added, glancing at Sonya with a\r
+look that showed she did not want to speak of it in her presence. "Now\r
+listen," she said to the count. "What do you want tomorrow? Whom will\r
+you send for? Shinshin?" she crooked one of her fingers. "The sniveling\r
+Anna Mikhaylovna? That's two. She's here with her son. The son is\r
+getting married! Then Bezukhov, eh? He is here too, with his wife. He\r
+ran away from her and she came galloping after him. He dined with me on\r
+Wednesday. As for them"--and she pointed to the girls--"tomorrow I'll\r
+take them first to the Iberian shrine of the Mother of God, and then\r
+we'll drive to the Super-Rogue's. I suppose you'll have everything new.\r
+Don't judge by me: sleeves nowadays are this size! The other day young\r
+Princess Irina Vasilevna came to see me; she was an awful sight--looked\r
+as if she had put two barrels on her arms. You know not a day passes now\r
+without some new fashion.... And what have you to do yourself?" she\r
+asked the count sternly.\r
+\r
+"One thing has come on top of another: her rags to buy, and now a\r
+purchaser has turned up for the Moscow estate and for the house. If you\r
+will be so kind, I'll fix a time and go down to the estate just for a\r
+day, and leave my lassies with you."\r
+\r
+"All right. All right. They'll be safe with me, as safe as in Chancery!\r
+I'll take them where they must go, scold them a bit, and pet them a\r
+bit," said Marya Dmitrievna, touching her goddaughter and favorite,\r
+Natasha, on the cheek with her large hand.\r
+\r
+Next morning Marya Dmitrievna took the young ladies to the Iberian\r
+shrine of the Mother of God and to Madame Suppert-Roguet, who was so\r
+afraid of Marya Dmitrievna that she always let her have costumes at a\r
+loss merely to get rid of her. Marya Dmitrievna ordered almost the whole\r
+trousseau. When they got home she turned everybody out of the room\r
+except Natasha, and then called her pet to her armchair.\r
+\r
+"Well, now we'll talk. I congratulate you on your betrothed. You've\r
+hooked a fine fellow! I am glad for your sake and I've known him since\r
+he was so high." She held her hand a couple of feet from the ground.\r
+Natasha blushed happily. "I like him and all his family. Now listen! You\r
+know that old Prince Nicholas much dislikes his son's marrying. The old\r
+fellow's crotchety! Of course Prince Andrew is not a child and can shift\r
+without him, but it's not nice to enter a family against a father's\r
+will. One wants to do it peacefully and lovingly. You're a clever girl\r
+and you'll know how to manage. Be kind, and use your wits. Then all will\r
+be well."\r
+\r
+Natasha remained silent, from shyness Marya Dmitrievna supposed, but\r
+really because she disliked anyone interfering in what touched her love\r
+of Prince Andrew, which seemed to her so apart from all human affairs\r
+that no one could understand it. She loved and knew Prince Andrew, he\r
+loved her only, and was to come one of these days and take her. She\r
+wanted nothing more.\r
+\r
+"You see I have known him a long time and am also fond of Mary, your\r
+future sister-in-law. 'Husbands' sisters bring up blisters,' but this\r
+one wouldn't hurt a fly. She has asked me to bring you two together.\r
+Tomorrow you'll go with your father to see her. Be very nice and\r
+affectionate to her: you're younger than she. When he comes, he'll find\r
+you already know his sister and father and are liked by them. Am I right\r
+or not? Won't that be best?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, it will," Natasha answered reluctantly.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+Next day, by Marya Dmitrievna's advice, Count Rostov took Natasha to\r
+call on Prince Nicholas Bolkonski. The count did not set out cheerfully\r
+on this visit, at heart he felt afraid. He well remembered the last\r
+interview he had had with the old prince at the time of the enrollment,\r
+when in reply to an invitation to dinner he had had to listen to an\r
+angry reprimand for not having provided his full quota of men. Natasha,\r
+on the other hand, having put on her best gown, was in the highest\r
+spirits. "They can't help liking me," she thought. "Everybody always has\r
+liked me, and I am so willing to do anything they wish, so ready to be\r
+fond of him--for being his father--and of her--for being his sister--\r
+that there is no reason for them not to like me..."\r
+\r
+They drove up to the gloomy old house on the Vozdvizhenka and entered\r
+the vestibule.\r
+\r
+"Well, the Lord have mercy on us!" said the count, half in jest, half in\r
+earnest; but Natasha noticed that her father was flurried on entering\r
+the anteroom and inquired timidly and softly whether the prince and\r
+princess were at home.\r
+\r
+When they had been announced a perturbation was noticeable among the\r
+servants. The footman who had gone to announce them was stopped by\r
+another in the large hall and they whispered to one another. Then a\r
+maidservant ran into the hall and hurriedly said something, mentioning\r
+the princess. At last an old, cross looking footman came and announced\r
+to the Rostovs that the prince was not receiving, but that the princess\r
+begged them to walk up. The first person who came to meet the visitors\r
+was Mademoiselle Bourienne. She greeted the father and daughter with\r
+special politeness and showed them to the princess' room. The princess,\r
+looking excited and nervous, her face flushed in patches, ran in to meet\r
+the visitors, treading heavily, and vainly trying to appear cordial and\r
+at ease. From the first glance Princess Mary did not like Natasha. She\r
+thought her too fashionably dressed, frivolously gay and vain. She did\r
+not at all realize that before having seen her future sister-in-law she\r
+was prejudiced against her by involuntary envy of her beauty, youth, and\r
+happiness, as well as by jealousy of her brother's love for her. Apart\r
+from this insuperable antipathy to her, Princess Mary was agitated just\r
+then because on the Rostovs' being announced, the old prince had shouted\r
+that he did not wish to see them, that Princess Mary might do so if she\r
+chose, but they were not to be admitted to him. She had decided to\r
+receive them, but feared lest the prince might at any moment indulge in\r
+some freak, as he seemed much upset by the Rostovs' visit.\r
+\r
+"There, my dear princess, I've brought you my songstress," said the\r
+count, bowing and looking round uneasily as if afraid the old prince\r
+might appear. "I am so glad you should get to know one another... very\r
+sorry the prince is still ailing," and after a few more commonplace\r
+remarks he rose. "If you'll allow me to leave my Natasha in your hands\r
+for a quarter of an hour, Princess, I'll drive round to see Anna\r
+Semenovna, it's quite near in the Dogs' Square, and then I'll come back\r
+for her."\r
+\r
+The count had devised this diplomatic ruse (as he afterwards told his\r
+daughter) to give the future sisters-in-law an opportunity to talk to\r
+one another freely, but another motive was to avoid the danger of\r
+encountering the old prince, of whom he was afraid. He did not mention\r
+this to his daughter, but Natasha noticed her father's nervousness and\r
+anxiety and felt mortified by it. She blushed for him, grew still\r
+angrier at having blushed, and looked at the princess with a bold and\r
+defiant expression which said that she was not afraid of anybody. The\r
+princess told the count that she would be delighted, and only begged him\r
+to stay longer at Anna Semenovna's, and he departed.\r
+\r
+Despite the uneasy glances thrown at her by Princess Mary--who wished to\r
+have a tête-à -tête with Natasha--Mademoiselle Bourienne remained in the\r
+room and persistently talked about Moscow amusements and theaters.\r
+Natasha felt offended by the hesitation she had noticed in the anteroom,\r
+by her father's nervousness, and by the unnatural manner of the princess\r
+who--she thought--was making a favor of receiving her, and so everything\r
+displeased her. She did not like Princess Mary, whom she thought very\r
+plain, affected, and dry. Natasha suddenly shrank into herself and\r
+involuntarily assumed an offhand air which alienated Princess Mary still\r
+more. After five minutes of irksome, constrained conversation, they\r
+heard the sound of slippered feet rapidly approaching. Princess Mary\r
+looked frightened.\r
+\r
+The door opened and the old prince, in a dressing gown and a white\r
+nightcap, came in.\r
+\r
+"Ah, madam!" he began. "Madam, Countess... Countess Rostova, if I am not\r
+mistaken... I beg you to excuse me, to excuse me... I did not know,\r
+madam. God is my witness, I did not know you had honored us with a\r
+visit, and I came in such a costume only to see my daughter. I beg you\r
+to excuse me... God is my witness, I didn't know-" he repeated,\r
+stressing the word "God" so unnaturally and so unpleasantly that\r
+Princess Mary stood with downcast eyes not daring to look either at her\r
+father or at Natasha.\r
+\r
+Nor did the latter, having risen and curtsied, know what to do.\r
+Mademoiselle Bourienne alone smiled agreeably.\r
+\r
+"I beg you to excuse me, excuse me! God is my witness, I did not know,"\r
+muttered the old man, and after looking Natasha over from head to foot\r
+he went out.\r
+\r
+Mademoiselle Bourienne was the first to recover herself after this\r
+apparition and began speaking about the prince's indisposition. Natasha\r
+and Princess Mary looked at one another in silence, and the longer they\r
+did so without saying what they wanted to say, the greater grew their\r
+antipathy to one another.\r
+\r
+When the count returned, Natasha was impolitely pleased and hastened to\r
+get away: at that moment she hated the stiff, elderly princess, who\r
+could place her in such an embarrassing position and had spent half an\r
+hour with her without once mentioning Prince Andrew. "I couldn't begin\r
+talking about him in the presence of that Frenchwoman," thought Natasha.\r
+The same thought was meanwhile tormenting Princess Mary. She knew what\r
+she ought to have said to Natasha, but she had been unable to say it\r
+because Mademoiselle Bourienne was in the way, and because, without\r
+knowing why, she felt it very difficult to speak of the marriage. When\r
+the count was already leaving the room, Princess Mary went up hurriedly\r
+to Natasha, took her by the hand, and said with a deep sigh:\r
+\r
+"Wait, I must..."\r
+\r
+Natasha glanced at her ironically without knowing why.\r
+\r
+"Dear Natalie," said Princess Mary, "I want you to know that I am glad\r
+my brother has found happiness...."\r
+\r
+She paused, feeling that she was not telling the truth. Natasha noticed\r
+this and guessed its reason.\r
+\r
+"I think, Princess, it is not convenient to speak of that now," she said\r
+with external dignity and coldness, though she felt the tears choking\r
+her.\r
+\r
+"What have I said and what have I done?" thought she, as soon as she was\r
+out of the room.\r
+\r
+They waited a long time for Natasha to come to dinner that day. She sat\r
+in her room crying like a child, blowing her nose and sobbing. Sonya\r
+stood beside her, kissing her hair.\r
+\r
+"Natasha, what is it about?" she asked. "What do they matter to you? It\r
+will all pass, Natasha."\r
+\r
+"But if you only knew how offensive it was... as if I..."\r
+\r
+"Don't talk about it, Natasha. It wasn't your fault so why should you\r
+mind? Kiss me," said Sonya.\r
+\r
+Natasha raised her head and, kissing her friend on the lips, pressed her\r
+wet face against her.\r
+\r
+"I can't tell you, I don't know. No one's to blame," said Natasha--"It's\r
+my fault. But it all hurts terribly. Oh, why doesn't he come?..."\r
+\r
+She came in to dinner with red eyes. Marya Dmitrievna, who knew how the\r
+prince had received the Rostovs, pretended not to notice how upset\r
+Natasha was and jested resolutely and loudly at table with the count and\r
+the other guests.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+That evening the Rostovs went to the Opera, for which Marya Dmitrievna\r
+had taken a box.\r
+\r
+Natasha did not want to go, but could not refuse Marya Dmitrievna's kind\r
+offer which was intended expressly for her. When she came ready dressed\r
+into the ballroom to await her father, and looking in the large mirror\r
+there saw that she was pretty, very pretty, she felt even more sad, but\r
+it was a sweet, tender sadness.\r
+\r
+"O God, if he were here now I would not behave as I did then, but\r
+differently. I would not be silly and afraid of things, I would simply\r
+embrace him, cling to him, and make him look at me with those searching\r
+inquiring eyes with which he has so often looked at me, and then I would\r
+make him laugh as he used to laugh. And his eyes--how I see those eyes!"\r
+thought Natasha. "And what do his father and sister matter to me? I love\r
+him alone, him, him, with that face and those eyes, with his smile,\r
+manly and yet childlike.... No, I had better not think of him; not think\r
+of him but forget him, quite forget him for the present. I can't bear\r
+this waiting and I shall cry in a minute!" and she turned away from the\r
+glass, making an effort not to cry. "And how can Sonya love Nicholas so\r
+calmly and quietly and wait so long and so patiently?" thought she,\r
+looking at Sonya, who also came in quite ready, with a fan in her hand.\r
+"No, she's altogether different. I can't!"\r
+\r
+Natasha at that moment felt so softened and tender that it was not\r
+enough for her to love and know she was beloved, she wanted now, at\r
+once, to embrace the man she loved, to speak and hear from him words of\r
+love such as filled her heart. While she sat in the carriage beside her\r
+father, pensively watching the lights of the street lamps flickering on\r
+the frozen window, she felt still sadder and more in love, and forgot\r
+where she was going and with whom. Having fallen into the line of\r
+carriages, the Rostovs' carriage drove up to the theater, its wheels\r
+squeaking over the snow. Natasha and Sonya, holding up their dresses,\r
+jumped out quickly. The count got out helped by the footmen, and,\r
+passing among men and women who were entering and the program sellers,\r
+they all three went along the corridor to the first row of boxes.\r
+Through the closed doors the music was already audible.\r
+\r
+"Natasha, your hair!..." whispered Sonya.\r
+\r
+An attendant deferentially and quickly slipped before the ladies and\r
+opened the door of their box. The music sounded louder and through the\r
+door rows of brightly lit boxes in which ladies sat with bare arms and\r
+shoulders, and noisy stalls brilliant with uniforms, glittered before\r
+their eyes. A lady entering the next box shot a glance of feminine envy\r
+at Natasha. The curtain had not yet risen and the overture was being\r
+played. Natasha, smoothing her gown, went in with Sonya and sat down,\r
+scanning the brilliant tiers of boxes opposite. A sensation she had not\r
+experienced for a long time--that of hundreds of eyes looking at her\r
+bare arms and neck--suddenly affected her both agreeably and\r
+disagreeably and called up a whole crowd of memories, desires and\r
+emotions associated with that feeling.\r
+\r
+The two remarkably pretty girls, Natasha and Sonya, with Count Rostov\r
+who had not been seen in Moscow for a long time, attracted general\r
+attention. Moreover, everybody knew vaguely of Natasha's engagement to\r
+Prince Andrew, and knew that the Rostovs had lived in the country ever\r
+since, and all looked with curiosity at a fiancee who was making one of\r
+the best matches in Russia.\r
+\r
+Natasha's looks, as everyone told her, had improved in the country, and\r
+that evening thanks to her agitation she was particularly pretty. She\r
+struck those who saw her by her fullness of life and beauty, combined\r
+with her indifference to everything about her. Her black eyes looked at\r
+the crowd without seeking anyone, and her delicate arm, bare to above\r
+the elbow, lay on the velvet edge of the box, while, evidently\r
+unconsciously, she opened and closed her hand in time to the music,\r
+crumpling her program. "Look, there's Alenina," said Sonya, "with her\r
+mother, isn't it?"\r
+\r
+"Dear me, Michael Kirilovich has grown still stouter!" remarked the\r
+count.\r
+\r
+"Look at our Anna Mikhaylovna--what a headdress she has on!"\r
+\r
+"The Karagins, Julie--and Boris with them. One can see at once that\r
+they're engaged...."\r
+\r
+"Drubetskoy has proposed?"\r
+\r
+"Oh yes, I heard it today," said Shinshin, coming into the Rostovs' box.\r
+\r
+Natasha looked in the direction in which her father's eyes were turned\r
+and saw Julie sitting beside her mother with a happy look on her face\r
+and a string of pearls round her thick red neck--which Natasha knew was\r
+covered with powder. Behind them, wearing a smile and leaning over with\r
+an ear to Julie's mouth, was Boris' handsome smoothly brushed head. He\r
+looked at the Rostovs from under his brows and said something, smiling,\r
+to his betrothed.\r
+\r
+"They are talking about us, about me and him!" thought Natasha. "And he\r
+no doubt is calming her jealousy of me. They needn't trouble themselves!\r
+If only they knew how little I am concerned about any of them."\r
+\r
+Behind them sat Anna Mikhaylovna wearing a green headdress and with a\r
+happy look of resignation to the will of God on her face. Their box was\r
+pervaded by that atmosphere of an affianced couple which Natasha knew so\r
+well and liked so much. She turned away and suddenly remembered all that\r
+had been so humiliating in her morning's visit.\r
+\r
+"What right has he not to wish to receive me into his family? Oh, better\r
+not think of it--not till he comes back!" she told herself, and began\r
+looking at the faces, some strange and some familiar, in the stalls. In\r
+the front, in the very center, leaning back against the orchestra rail,\r
+stood Dolokhov in a Persian dress, his curly hair brushed up into a huge\r
+shock. He stood in full view of the audience, well aware that he was\r
+attracting everyone's attention, yet as much at ease as though he were\r
+in his own room. Around him thronged Moscow's most brilliant young men,\r
+whom he evidently dominated.\r
+\r
+The count, laughing, nudged the blushing Sonya and pointed to her former\r
+adorer.\r
+\r
+"Do you recognize him?" said he. "And where has he sprung from?" he\r
+asked, turning to Shinshin. "Didn't he vanish somewhere?"\r
+\r
+"He did," replied Shinshin. "He was in the Caucasus and ran away from\r
+there. They say he has been acting as minister to some ruling prince in\r
+Persia, where he killed the Shah's brother. Now all the Moscow ladies\r
+are mad about him! It's 'Dolokhov the Persian' that does it! We never\r
+hear a word but Dolokhov is mentioned. They swear by him, they offer him\r
+to you as they would a dish of choice sterlet. Dolokhov and Anatole\r
+Kuragin have turned all our ladies' heads."\r
+\r
+A tall, beautiful woman with a mass of plaited hair and much exposed\r
+plump white shoulders and neck, round which she wore a double string of\r
+large pearls, entered the adjoining box rustling her heavy silk dress\r
+and took a long time settling into her place.\r
+\r
+Natasha involuntarily gazed at that neck, those shoulders, and pearls\r
+and coiffure, and admired the beauty of the shoulders and the pearls.\r
+While Natasha was fixing her gaze on her for the second time the lady\r
+looked round and, meeting the count's eyes, nodded to him and smiled.\r
+She was the Countess Bezukhova, Pierre's wife, and the count, who knew\r
+everyone in society, leaned over and spoke to her.\r
+\r
+"Have you been here long, Countess?" he inquired. "I'll call, I'll call\r
+to kiss your hand. I'm here on business and have brought my girls with\r
+me. They say Semenova acts marvelously. Count Pierre never used to\r
+forget us. Is he here?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, he meant to look in," answered Helene, and glanced attentively at\r
+Natasha.\r
+\r
+Count Rostov resumed his seat.\r
+\r
+"Handsome, isn't she?" he whispered to Natasha.\r
+\r
+"Wonderful!" answered Natasha. "She's a woman one could easily fall in\r
+love with."\r
+\r
+Just then the last chords of the overture were heard and the conductor\r
+tapped with his stick. Some latecomers took their seats in the stalls,\r
+and the curtain rose.\r
+\r
+As soon as it rose everyone in the boxes and stalls became silent, and\r
+all the men, old and young, in uniform and evening dress, and all the\r
+women with gems on their bare flesh, turned their whole attention with\r
+eager curiosity to the stage. Natasha too began to look at it.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+The floor of the stage consisted of smooth boards, at the sides was some\r
+painted cardboard representing trees, and at the back was a cloth\r
+stretched over boards. In the center of the stage sat some girls in red\r
+bodices and white skirts. One very fat girl in a white silk dress sat\r
+apart on a low bench, to the back of which a piece of green cardboard\r
+was glued. They all sang something. When they had finished their song\r
+the girl in white went up to the prompter's box and a man with tight\r
+silk trousers over his stout legs, and holding a plume and a dagger,\r
+went up to her and began singing, waving his arms about.\r
+\r
+First the man in the tight trousers sang alone, then she sang, then they\r
+both paused while the orchestra played and the man fingered the hand of\r
+the girl in white, obviously awaiting the beat to start singing with\r
+her. They sang together and everyone in the theater began clapping and\r
+shouting, while the man and woman on the stage--who represented lovers--\r
+began smiling, spreading out their arms, and bowing.\r
+\r
+After her life in the country, and in her present serious mood, all this\r
+seemed grotesque and amazing to Natasha. She could not follow the opera\r
+nor even listen to the music; she saw only the painted cardboard and the\r
+queerly dressed men and women who moved, spoke, and sang so strangely in\r
+that brilliant light. She knew what it was all meant to represent, but\r
+it was so pretentiously false and unnatural that she first felt ashamed\r
+for the actors and then amused at them. She looked at the faces of the\r
+audience, seeking in them the same sense of ridicule and perplexity she\r
+herself experienced, but they all seemed attentive to what was happening\r
+on the stage, and expressed delight which to Natasha seemed feigned. "I\r
+suppose it has to be like this!" she thought. She kept looking round in\r
+turn at the rows of pomaded heads in the stalls and then at the seminude\r
+women in the boxes, especially at Helene in the next box, who--\r
+apparently quite unclothed--sat with a quiet tranquil smile, not taking\r
+her eyes off the stage. And feeling the bright light that flooded the\r
+whole place and the warm air heated by the crowd, Natasha little by\r
+little began to pass into a state of intoxication she had not\r
+experienced for a long while. She did not realize who and where she was,\r
+nor what was going on before her. As she looked and thought, the\r
+strangest fancies unexpectedly and disconnectedly passed through her\r
+mind: the idea occurred to her of jumping onto the edge of the box and\r
+singing the air the actress was singing, then she wished to touch with\r
+her fan an old gentleman sitting not far from her, then to lean over to\r
+Helene and tickle her.\r
+\r
+At a moment when all was quiet before the commencement of a song, a door\r
+leading to the stalls on the side nearest the Rostovs' box creaked, and\r
+the steps of a belated arrival were heard. "There's Kuragin!" whispered\r
+Shinshin. Countess Bezukhova turned smiling to the newcomer, and\r
+Natasha, following the direction of that look, saw an exceptionally\r
+handsome adjutant approaching their box with a self-assured yet\r
+courteous bearing. This was Anatole Kuragin whom she had seen and\r
+noticed long ago at the ball in Petersburg. He was now in an adjutant's\r
+uniform with one epaulet and a shoulder knot. He moved with a restrained\r
+swagger which would have been ridiculous had he not been so good-looking\r
+and had his handsome face not worn such an expression of good-humored\r
+complacency and gaiety. Though the performance was proceeding, he walked\r
+deliberately down the carpeted gangway, his sword and spurs slightly\r
+jingling and his handsome perfumed head held high. Having looked at\r
+Natasha he approached his sister, laid his well gloved hand on the edge\r
+of her box, nodded to her, and leaning forward asked a question, with a\r
+motion toward Natasha.\r
+\r
+"Mais charmante!" said he, evidently referring to Natasha, who did not\r
+exactly hear his words but understood them from the movement of his\r
+lips. Then he took his place in the first row of the stalls and sat down\r
+beside Dolokhov, nudging with his elbow in a friendly and offhand way\r
+that Dolokhov whom others treated so fawningly. He winked at him gaily,\r
+smiled, and rested his foot against the orchestra screen.\r
+\r
+"How like the brother is to the sister," remarked the count. "And how\r
+handsome they both are!"\r
+\r
+Shinshin, lowering his voice, began to tell the count of some intrigue\r
+of Kuragin's in Moscow, and Natasha tried to overhear it just because he\r
+had said she was "charmante."\r
+\r
+The first act was over. In the stalls everyone began moving about, going\r
+out and coming in.\r
+\r
+Boris came to the Rostovs' box, received their congratulations very\r
+simply, and raising his eyebrows with an absent-minded smile conveyed to\r
+Natasha and Sonya his fiancee's invitation to her wedding, and went\r
+away. Natasha with a gay, coquettish smile talked to him, and\r
+congratulated on his approaching wedding that same Boris with whom she\r
+had formerly been in love. In the state of intoxication she was in,\r
+everything seemed simple and natural.\r
+\r
+The scantily clad Helene smiled at everyone in the same way, and Natasha\r
+gave Boris a similar smile.\r
+\r
+Helene's box was filled and surrounded from the stalls by the most\r
+distinguished and intellectual men, who seemed to vie with one another\r
+in their wish to let everyone see that they knew her.\r
+\r
+During the whole of that entr'acte Kuragin stood with Dolokhov in front\r
+of the orchestra partition, looking at the Rostovs' box. Natasha knew he\r
+was talking about her and this afforded her pleasure. She even turned so\r
+that he should see her profile in what she thought was its most becoming\r
+aspect. Before the beginning of the second act Pierre appeared in the\r
+stalls. The Rostovs had not seen him since their arrival. His face\r
+looked sad, and he had grown still stouter since Natasha last saw him.\r
+He passed up to the front rows, not noticing anyone. Anatole went up to\r
+him and began speaking to him, looking at and indicating the Rostovs'\r
+box. On seeing Natasha Pierre grew animated and, hastily passing between\r
+the rows, came toward their box. When he got there he leaned on his\r
+elbows and, smiling, talked to her for a long time. While conversing\r
+with Pierre, Natasha heard a man's voice in Countess Bezukhova's box and\r
+something told her it was Kuragin. She turned and their eyes met. Almost\r
+smiling, he gazed straight into her eyes with such an enraptured\r
+caressing look that it seemed strange to be so near him, to look at him\r
+like that, to be so sure he admired her, and not to be acquainted with\r
+him.\r
+\r
+In the second act there was scenery representing tombstones, there was a\r
+round hole in the canvas to represent the moon, shades were raised over\r
+the footlights, and from horns and contrabass came deep notes while many\r
+people appeared from right and left wearing black cloaks and holding\r
+things like daggers in their hands. They began waving their arms. Then\r
+some other people ran in and began dragging away the maiden who had been\r
+in white and was now in light blue. They did not drag her away at once,\r
+but sang with her for a long time and then at last dragged her off, and\r
+behind the scenes something metallic was struck three times and everyone\r
+knelt down and sang a prayer. All these things were repeatedly\r
+interrupted by the enthusiastic shouts of the audience.\r
+\r
+During this act every time Natasha looked toward the stalls she saw\r
+Anatole Kuragin with an arm thrown across the back of his chair, staring\r
+at her. She was pleased to see that he was captivated by her and it did\r
+not occur to her that there was anything wrong in it.\r
+\r
+When the second act was over Countess Bezukhova rose, turned to the\r
+Rostovs' box--her whole bosom completely exposed--beckoned the old count\r
+with a gloved finger, and paying no attention to those who had entered\r
+her box began talking to him with an amiable smile.\r
+\r
+"Do make me acquainted with your charming daughters," said she. "The\r
+whole town is singing their praises and I don't even know them!"\r
+\r
+Natasha rose and curtsied to the splendid countess. She was so pleased\r
+by praise from this brilliant beauty that she blushed with pleasure.\r
+\r
+"I want to become a Moscovite too, now," said Helene. "How is it you're\r
+not ashamed to bury such pearls in the country?"\r
+\r
+Countess Bezukhova quite deserved her reputation of being a fascinating\r
+woman. She could say what she did not think--especially what was\r
+flattering--quite simply and naturally.\r
+\r
+"Dear count, you must let me look after your daughters! Though I am not\r
+staying here long this time--nor are you--I will try to amuse them. I\r
+have already heard much of you in Petersburg and wanted to get to know\r
+you," said she to Natasha with her stereotyped and lovely smile. "I had\r
+heard about you from my page, Drubetskoy. Have you heard he is getting\r
+married? And also from my husband's friend Bolkonski, Prince Andrew\r
+Bolkonski," she went on with special emphasis, implying that she knew of\r
+his relation to Natasha. To get better acquainted she asked that one of\r
+the young ladies should come into her box for the rest of the\r
+performance, and Natasha moved over to it.\r
+\r
+The scene of the third act represented a palace in which many candles\r
+were burning and pictures of knights with short beards hung on the\r
+walls. In the middle stood what were probably a king and a queen. The\r
+king waved his right arm and, evidently nervous, sang something badly\r
+and sat down on a crimson throne. The maiden who had been first in white\r
+and then in light blue, now wore only a smock, and stood beside the\r
+throne with her hair down. She sang something mournfully, addressing the\r
+queen, but the king waved his arm severely, and men and women with bare\r
+legs came in from both sides and began dancing all together. Then the\r
+violins played very shrilly and merrily and one of the women with thick\r
+bare legs and thin arms, separating from the others, went behind the\r
+wings, adjusted her bodice, returned to the middle of the stage, and\r
+began jumping and striking one foot rapidly against the other. In the\r
+stalls everyone clapped and shouted "bravo!" Then one of the men went\r
+into a corner of the stage. The cymbals and horns in the orchestra\r
+struck up more loudly, and this man with bare legs jumped very high and\r
+waved his feet about very rapidly. (He was Duport, who received sixty\r
+thousand rubles a year for this art.) Everybody in the stalls, boxes,\r
+and galleries began clapping and shouting with all their might, and the\r
+man stopped and began smiling and bowing to all sides. Then other men\r
+and women danced with bare legs. Then the king again shouted to the\r
+sound of music, and they all began singing. But suddenly a storm came\r
+on, chromatic scales and diminished sevenths were heard in the\r
+orchestra, everyone ran off, again dragging one of their number away,\r
+and the curtain dropped. Once more there was a terrible noise and\r
+clatter among the audience, and with rapturous faces everyone began\r
+shouting: "Duport! Duport! Duport!" Natasha no longer thought this\r
+strange. She looked about with pleasure, smiling joyfully.\r
+\r
+"Isn't Duport delightful?" Helene asked her.\r
+\r
+"Oh, yes," replied Natasha.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+During the entr'acte a whiff of cold air came into Helene's box, the\r
+door opened, and Anatole entered, stooping and trying not to brush\r
+against anyone.\r
+\r
+"Let me introduce my brother to you," said Helene, her eyes shifting\r
+uneasily from Natasha to Anatole.\r
+\r
+Natasha turned her pretty little head toward the elegant young officer\r
+and smiled at him over her bare shoulder. Anatole, who was as handsome\r
+at close quarters as at a distance, sat down beside her and told her he\r
+had long wished to have this happiness--ever since the Naryshkins' ball\r
+in fact, at which he had had the well-remembered pleasure of seeing her.\r
+Kuragin was much more sensible and simple with women than among men. He\r
+talked boldly and naturally, and Natasha was strangely and agreeably\r
+struck by the fact that there was nothing formidable in this man about\r
+whom there was so much talk, but that on the contrary his smile was most\r
+naive, cheerful, and good-natured.\r
+\r
+Kuragin asked her opinion of the performance and told her how at a\r
+previous performance Semenova had fallen down on the stage.\r
+\r
+"And do you know, Countess," he said, suddenly addressing her as an old,\r
+familiar acquaintance, "we are getting up a costume tournament; you\r
+ought to take part in it! It will be great fun. We shall all meet at the\r
+Karagins'! Please come! No! Really, eh?" said he.\r
+\r
+While saying this he never removed his smiling eyes from her face, her\r
+neck, and her bare arms. Natasha knew for certain that he was enraptured\r
+by her. This pleased her, yet his presence made her feel constrained and\r
+oppressed. When she was not looking at him she felt that he was looking\r
+at her shoulders, and she involuntarily caught his eye so that he should\r
+look into hers rather than this. But looking into his eyes she was\r
+frightened, realizing that there was not that barrier of modesty she had\r
+always felt between herself and other men. She did not know how it was\r
+that within five minutes she had come to feel herself terribly near to\r
+this man. When she turned away she feared he might seize her from behind\r
+by her bare arm and kiss her on the neck. They spoke of most ordinary\r
+things, yet she felt that they were closer to one another than she had\r
+ever been to any man. Natasha kept turning to Helene and to her father,\r
+as if asking what it all meant, but Helene was engaged in conversation\r
+with a general and did not answer her look, and her father's eyes said\r
+nothing but what they always said: "Having a good time? Well, I'm glad\r
+of it!"\r
+\r
+During one of these moments of awkward silence when Anatole's prominent\r
+eyes were gazing calmly and fixedly at her, Natasha, to break the\r
+silence, asked him how he liked Moscow. She asked the question and\r
+blushed. She felt all the time that by talking to him she was doing\r
+something improper. Anatole smiled as though to encourage her.\r
+\r
+"At first I did not like it much, because what makes a town pleasant ce\r
+sont les jolies femmes, * isn't that so? But now I like it very much\r
+indeed," he said, looking at her significantly. "You'll come to the\r
+costume tournament, Countess? Do come!" and putting out his hand to her\r
+bouquet and dropping his voice, he added, "You will be the prettiest\r
+there. Do come, dear countess, and give me this flower as a pledge!"\r
+\r
+\r
+* Are the pretty women.\r
+\r
+Natasha did not understand what he was saying any more than he did\r
+himself, but she felt that his incomprehensible words had an improper\r
+intention. She did not know what to say and turned away as if she had\r
+not heard his remark. But as soon as she had turned away she felt that\r
+he was there, behind, so close behind her.\r
+\r
+"How is he now? Confused? Angry? Ought I to put it right?" she asked\r
+herself, and she could not refrain from turning round. She looked\r
+straight into his eyes, and his nearness, self-assurance, and the good-\r
+natured tenderness of his smile vanquished her. She smiled just as he\r
+was doing, gazing straight into his eyes. And again she felt with horror\r
+that no barrier lay between him and her.\r
+\r
+The curtain rose again. Anatole left the box, serene and gay. Natasha\r
+went back to her father in the other box, now quite submissive to the\r
+world she found herself in. All that was going on before her now seemed\r
+quite natural, but on the other hand all her previous thoughts of her\r
+betrothed, of Princess Mary, or of life in the country did not once\r
+recur to her mind and were as if belonging to a remote past.\r
+\r
+In the fourth act there was some sort of devil who sang waving his arm\r
+about, till the boards were withdrawn from under him and he disappeared\r
+down below. That was the only part of the fourth act that Natasha saw.\r
+She felt agitated and tormented, and the cause of this was Kuragin whom\r
+she could not help watching. As they were leaving the theater Anatole\r
+came up to them, called their carriage, and helped them in. As he was\r
+putting Natasha in he pressed her arm above the elbow. Agitated and\r
+flushed she turned round. He was looking at her with glittering eyes,\r
+smiling tenderly.\r
+\r
+Only after she had reached home was Natasha able clearly to think over\r
+what had happened to her, and suddenly remembering Prince Andrew she was\r
+horrified, and at tea to which all had sat down after the opera, she\r
+gave a loud exclamation, flushed, and ran out of the room.\r
+\r
+"O God! I am lost!" she said to herself. "How could I let him?" She sat\r
+for a long time hiding her flushed face in her hands trying to realize\r
+what had happened to her, but was unable either to understand what had\r
+happened or what she felt. Everything seemed dark, obscure, and\r
+terrible. There in that enormous, illuminated theater where the bare-\r
+legged Duport, in a tinsel-decorated jacket, jumped about to the music\r
+on wet boards, and young girls and old men, and the nearly naked Helene\r
+with her proud, calm smile, rapturously cried "bravo!"--there in the\r
+presence of that Helene it had all seemed clear and simple; but now,\r
+alone by herself, it was incomprehensible. "What is it? What was that\r
+terror I felt of him? What is this gnawing of conscience I am feeling\r
+now?" she thought.\r
+\r
+Only to the old countess at night in bed could Natasha have told all she\r
+was feeling. She knew that Sonya with her severe and simple views would\r
+either not understand it at all or would be horrified at such a\r
+confession. So Natasha tried to solve what was torturing her by herself.\r
+\r
+"Am I spoiled for Andrew's love or not?" she asked herself, and with\r
+soothing irony replied: "What a fool I am to ask that! What did happen\r
+to me? Nothing! I have done nothing, I didn't lead him on at all. Nobody\r
+will know and I shall never see him again," she told herself. "So it is\r
+plain that nothing has happened and there is nothing to repent of, and\r
+Andrew can love me still. But why 'still?' O God, why isn't he here?"\r
+Natasha quieted herself for a moment, but again some instinct told her\r
+that though all this was true, and though nothing had happened, yet the\r
+former purity of her love for Prince Andrew had perished. And again in\r
+imagination she went over her whole conversation with Kuragin, and again\r
+saw the face, gestures, and tender smile of that bold handsome man when\r
+he pressed her arm.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+Anatole Kuragin was staying in Moscow because his father had sent him\r
+away from Petersburg, where he had been spending twenty thousand rubles\r
+a year in cash, besides running up debts for as much more, which his\r
+creditors demanded from his father.\r
+\r
+His father announced to him that he would now pay half his debts for the\r
+last time, but only on condition that he went to Moscow as adjutant to\r
+the commander-in-chief--a post his father had procured for him--and\r
+would at last try to make a good match there. He indicated to him\r
+Princess Mary and Julie Karagina.\r
+\r
+Anatole consented and went to Moscow, where he put up at Pierre's house.\r
+Pierre received him unwillingly at first, but got used to him after a\r
+while, sometimes even accompanied him on his carousals, and gave him\r
+money under the guise of loans.\r
+\r
+As Shinshin had remarked, from the time of his arrival Anatole had\r
+turned the heads of the Moscow ladies, especially by the fact that he\r
+slighted them and plainly preferred the gypsy girls and French\r
+actresses--with the chief of whom, Mademoiselle George, he was said to\r
+be on intimate relations. He had never missed a carousal at Danilov's or\r
+other Moscow revelers', drank whole nights through, outvying everyone\r
+else, and was at all the balls and parties of the best society. There\r
+was talk of his intrigues with some of the ladies, and he flirted with a\r
+few of them at the balls. But he did not run after the unmarried girls,\r
+especially the rich heiresses who were most of them plain. There was a\r
+special reason for this, as he had got married two years before--a fact\r
+known only to his most intimate friends. At that time while with his\r
+regiment in Poland, a Polish landowner of small means had forced him to\r
+marry his daughter. Anatole had very soon abandoned his wife and, for a\r
+payment which he agreed to send to his father-in-law, had arranged to be\r
+free to pass himself off as a bachelor.\r
+\r
+Anatole was always content with his position, with himself, and with\r
+others. He was instinctively and thoroughly convinced that it was\r
+impossible for him to live otherwise than as he did and that he had\r
+never in his life done anything base. He was incapable of considering\r
+how his actions might affect others or what the consequences of this or\r
+that action of his might be. He was convinced that, as a duck is so made\r
+that it must live in water, so God had made him such that he must spend\r
+thirty thousand rubles a year and always occupy a prominent position in\r
+society. He believed this so firmly that others, looking at him, were\r
+persuaded of it too and did not refuse him either a leading place in\r
+society or money, which he borrowed from anyone and everyone and\r
+evidently would not repay.\r
+\r
+He was not a gambler, at any rate he did not care about winning. He was\r
+not vain. He did not mind what people thought of him. Still less could\r
+he be accused of ambition. More than once he had vexed his father by\r
+spoiling his own career, and he laughed at distinctions of all kinds. He\r
+was not mean, and did not refuse anyone who asked of him. All he cared\r
+about was gaiety and women, and as according to his ideas there was\r
+nothing dishonorable in these tastes, and he was incapable of\r
+considering what the gratification of his tastes entailed for others, he\r
+honestly considered himself irreproachable, sincerely despised rogues\r
+and bad people, and with a tranquil conscience carried his head high.\r
+\r
+Rakes, those male Magdalenes, have a secret feeling of innocence similar\r
+to that which female Magdalenes have, based on the same hope of\r
+forgiveness. "All will be forgiven her, for she loved much; and all will\r
+be forgiven him, for he enjoyed much."\r
+\r
+Dolokhov, who had reappeared that year in Moscow after his exile and his\r
+Persian adventures, and was leading a life of luxury, gambling, and\r
+dissipation, associated with his old Petersburg comrade Kuragin and made\r
+use of him for his own ends.\r
+\r
+Anatole was sincerely fond of Dolokhov for his cleverness and audacity.\r
+Dolokhov, who needed Anatole Kuragin's name, position, and connections\r
+as a bait to draw rich young men into his gambling set, made use of him\r
+and amused himself at his expense without letting the other feel it.\r
+Apart from the advantage he derived from Anatole, the very process of\r
+dominating another's will was in itself a pleasure, a habit, and a\r
+necessity to Dolokhov.\r
+\r
+Natasha had made a strong impression on Kuragin. At supper after the\r
+opera he described to Dolokhov with the air of a connoisseur the\r
+attractions of her arms, shoulders, feet, and hair and expressed his\r
+intention of making love to her. Anatole had no notion and was incapable\r
+of considering what might come of such love-making, as he never had any\r
+notion of the outcome of any of his actions.\r
+\r
+"She's first-rate, my dear fellow, but not for us," replied Dolokhov.\r
+\r
+"I will tell my sister to ask her to dinner," said Anatole. "Eh?"\r
+\r
+"You'd better wait till she's married...."\r
+\r
+"You know, I adore little girls, they lose their heads at once," pursued\r
+Anatole.\r
+\r
+"You have been caught once already by a 'little girl,'" said Dolokhov\r
+who knew of Kuragin's marriage. "Take care!"\r
+\r
+"Well, that can't happen twice! Eh?" said Anatole, with a good-humored\r
+laugh.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+The day after the opera the Rostovs went nowhere and nobody came to see\r
+them. Marya Dmitrievna talked to the count about something which they\r
+concealed from Natasha. Natasha guessed they were talking about the old\r
+prince and planning something, and this disquieted and offended her. She\r
+was expecting Prince Andrew any moment and twice that day sent a\r
+manservant to the Vozdvizhenka to ascertain whether he had come. He had\r
+not arrived. She suffered more now than during her first days in Moscow.\r
+To her impatience and pining for him were now added the unpleasant\r
+recollection of her interview with Princess Mary and the old prince, and\r
+a fear and anxiety of which she did not understand the cause. She\r
+continually fancied that either he would never come or that something\r
+would happen to her before he came. She could no longer think of him by\r
+herself calmly and continuously as she had done before. As soon as she\r
+began to think of him, the recollection of the old prince, of Princess\r
+Mary, of the theater, and of Kuragin mingled with her thoughts. The\r
+question again presented itself whether she was not guilty, whether she\r
+had not already broken faith with Prince Andrew, and again she found\r
+herself recalling to the minutest detail every word, every gesture, and\r
+every shade in the play of expression on the face of the man who had\r
+been able to arouse in her such an incomprehensible and terrifying\r
+feeling. To the family Natasha seemed livelier than usual, but she was\r
+far less tranquil and happy than before.\r
+\r
+On Sunday morning Marya Dmitrievna invited her visitors to Mass at her\r
+parish church--the Church of the Assumption built over the graves of\r
+victims of the plague.\r
+\r
+"I don't like those fashionable churches," she said, evidently priding\r
+herself on her independence of thought. "God is the same every where. We\r
+have an excellent priest, he conducts the service decently and with\r
+dignity, and the deacon is the same. What holiness is there in giving\r
+concerts in the choir? I don't like it, it's just self-indulgence!"\r
+\r
+Marya Dmitrievna liked Sundays and knew how to keep them. Her whole\r
+house was scrubbed and cleaned on Saturdays; neither she nor the\r
+servants worked, and they all wore holiday dress and went to church. At\r
+her table there were extra dishes at dinner, and the servants had vodka\r
+and roast goose or suckling pig. But in nothing in the house was the\r
+holiday so noticeable as in Marya Dmitrievna's broad, stern face, which\r
+on that day wore an invariable look of solemn festivity.\r
+\r
+After Mass, when they had finished their coffee in the dining room where\r
+the loose covers had been removed from the furniture, a servant\r
+announced that the carriage was ready, and Marya Dmitrievna rose with a\r
+stern air. She wore her holiday shawl, in which she paid calls, and\r
+announced that she was going to see Prince Nicholas Bolkonski to have an\r
+explanation with him about Natasha.\r
+\r
+After she had gone, a dressmaker from Madame Suppert-Roguet waited on\r
+the Rostovs, and Natasha, very glad of this diversion, having shut\r
+herself into a room adjoining the drawing room, occupied herself trying\r
+on the new dresses. Just as she had put on a bodice without sleeves and\r
+only tacked together, and was turning her head to see in the glass how\r
+the back fitted, she heard in the drawing room the animated sounds of\r
+her father's voice and another's--a woman's--that made her flush. It was\r
+Helene. Natasha had not time to take off the bodice before the door\r
+opened and Countess Bezukhova, dressed in a purple velvet gown with a\r
+high collar, came into the room beaming with good-humored amiable\r
+smiles.\r
+\r
+"Oh, my enchantress!" she cried to the blushing Natasha. "Charming! No,\r
+this is really beyond anything, my dear count," said she to Count Rostov\r
+who had followed her in. "How can you live in Moscow and go nowhere? No,\r
+I won't let you off! Mademoiselle George will recite at my house tonight\r
+and there'll be some people, and if you don't bring your lovely girls--\r
+who are prettier than Mademoiselle George--I won't know you! My husband\r
+is away in Tver or I would send him to fetch you. You must come. You\r
+positively must! Between eight and nine."\r
+\r
+She nodded to the dressmaker, whom she knew and who had curtsied\r
+respectfully to her, and seated herself in an armchair beside the\r
+looking glass, draping the folds of her velvet dress picturesquely. She\r
+did not cease chattering good-naturedly and gaily, continually praising\r
+Natasha's beauty. She looked at Natasha's dresses and praised them, as\r
+well as a new dress of her own made of "metallic gauze," which she had\r
+received from Paris, and advised Natasha to have one like it.\r
+\r
+"But anything suits you, my charmer!" she remarked.\r
+\r
+A smile of pleasure never left Natasha's face. She felt happy and as if\r
+she were blossoming under the praise of this dear Countess Bezukhova who\r
+had formerly seemed to her so unapproachable and important and was now\r
+so kind to her. Natasha brightened up and felt almost in love with this\r
+woman, who was so beautiful and so kind. Helene for her part was\r
+sincerely delighted with Natasha and wished to give her a good time.\r
+Anatole had asked her to bring him and Natasha together, and she was\r
+calling on the Rostovs for that purpose. The idea of throwing her\r
+brother and Natasha together amused her.\r
+\r
+Though at one time, in Petersburg, she had been annoyed with Natasha for\r
+drawing Boris away, she did not think of that now, and in her own way\r
+heartily wished Natasha well. As she was leaving the Rostovs she called\r
+her protegee aside.\r
+\r
+"My brother dined with me yesterday--we nearly died of laughter--he ate\r
+nothing and kept sighing for you, my charmer! He is madly, quite madly,\r
+in love with you, my dear."\r
+\r
+Natasha blushed scarlet when she heard this.\r
+\r
+"How she blushes, how she blushes, my pretty!" said Helene. "You must\r
+certainly come. If you love somebody, my charmer, that is not a reason\r
+to shut yourself up. Even if you are engaged, I am sure your fiance\r
+would wish you to go into society rather than be bored to death."\r
+\r
+"So she knows I am engaged, and she and her husband Pierre--that good\r
+Pierre--have talked and laughed about this. So it's all right." And\r
+again, under Helene's influence, what had seemed terrible now seemed\r
+simple and natural. "And she is such a grande dame, so kind, and\r
+evidently likes me so much. And why not enjoy myself?" thought Natasha,\r
+gazing at Helene with wide-open, wondering eyes.\r
+\r
+Marya Dmitrievna came back to dinner taciturn and serious, having\r
+evidently suffered a defeat at the old prince's. She was still too\r
+agitated by the encounter to be able to talk of the affair calmly. In\r
+answer to the count's inquiries she replied that things were all right\r
+and that she would tell about it next day. On hearing of Countess\r
+Bezukhova's visit and the invitation for that evening, Marya Dmitrievna\r
+remarked:\r
+\r
+"I don't care to have anything to do with Bezukhova and don't advise you\r
+to; however, if you've promised--go. It will divert your thoughts," she\r
+added, addressing Natasha.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIII\r
+\r
+Count Rostov took the girls to Countess Bezukhova's. There were a good\r
+many people there, but nearly all strangers to Natasha. Count Rostov was\r
+displeased to see that the company consisted almost entirely of men and\r
+women known for the freedom of their conduct. Mademoiselle George was\r
+standing in a corner of the drawing room surrounded by young men. There\r
+were several Frenchmen present, among them Metivier who from the time\r
+Helene reached Moscow had been an intimate in her house. The count\r
+decided not to sit down to cards or let his girls out of his sight and\r
+to get away as soon as Mademoiselle George's performance was over.\r
+\r
+Anatole was at the door, evidently on the lookout for the Rostovs.\r
+Immediately after greeting the count he went up to Natasha and followed\r
+her. As soon as she saw him she was seized by the same feeling she had\r
+had at the opera--gratified vanity at his admiration of her and fear at\r
+the absence of a moral barrier between them.\r
+\r
+Helene welcomed Natasha delightedly and was loud in admiration of her\r
+beauty and her dress. Soon after their arrival Mademoiselle George went\r
+out of the room to change her costume. In the drawing room people began\r
+arranging the chairs and taking their seats. Anatole moved a chair for\r
+Natasha and was about to sit down beside her, but the count, who never\r
+lost sight of her, took the seat himself. Anatole sat down behind her.\r
+\r
+Mademoiselle George, with her bare, fat, dimpled arms, and a red shawl\r
+draped over one shoulder, came into the space left vacant for her, and\r
+assumed an unnatural pose. Enthusiastic whispering was audible.\r
+\r
+Mademoiselle George looked sternly and gloomily at the audience and\r
+began reciting some French verses describing her guilty love for her\r
+son. In some places she raised her voice, in others she whispered,\r
+lifting her head triumphantly; sometimes she paused and uttered hoarse\r
+sounds, rolling her eyes.\r
+\r
+"Adorable! divine! delicious!" was heard from every side.\r
+\r
+Natasha looked at the fat actress, but neither saw nor heard nor\r
+understood anything of what went on before her. She only felt herself\r
+again completely borne away into this strange senseless world--so remote\r
+from her old world--a world in which it was impossible to know what was\r
+good or bad, reasonable or senseless. Behind her sat Anatole, and\r
+conscious of his proximity she experienced a frightened sense of\r
+expectancy.\r
+\r
+After the first monologue the whole company rose and surrounded\r
+Mademoiselle George, expressing their enthusiasm.\r
+\r
+"How beautiful she is!" Natasha remarked to her father who had also\r
+risen and was moving through the crowd toward the actress.\r
+\r
+"I don't think so when I look at you!" said Anatole, following Natasha.\r
+He said this at a moment when she alone could hear him. "You are\r
+enchanting... from the moment I saw you I have never ceased..."\r
+\r
+"Come, come, Natasha!" said the count, as he turned back for his\r
+daughter. "How beautiful she is!" Natasha without saying anything\r
+stepped up to her father and looked at him with surprised inquiring\r
+eyes.\r
+\r
+After giving several recitations, Mademoiselle George left, and Countess\r
+Bezukhova asked her visitors into the ballroom.\r
+\r
+The count wished to go home, but Helene entreated him not to spoil her\r
+improvised ball, and the Rostovs stayed on. Anatole asked Natasha for a\r
+valse and as they danced he pressed her waist and hand and told her she\r
+was bewitching and that he loved her. During the ecossaise, which she\r
+also danced with him, Anatole said nothing when they happened to be by\r
+themselves, but merely gazed at her. Natasha lifted her frightened eyes\r
+to him, but there was such confident tenderness in his affectionate look\r
+and smile that she could not, whilst looking at him, say what she had to\r
+say. She lowered her eyes.\r
+\r
+"Don't say such things to me. I am betrothed and love another," she said\r
+rapidly.... She glanced at him.\r
+\r
+Anatole was not upset or pained by what she had said.\r
+\r
+"Don't speak to me of that! What can I do?" said he. "I tell you I am\r
+madly, madly, in love with you! Is it my fault that you are\r
+enchanting?... It's our turn to begin."\r
+\r
+Natasha, animated and excited, looked about her with wide-open\r
+frightened eyes and seemed merrier than usual. She understood hardly\r
+anything that went on that evening. They danced the ecossaise and the\r
+Grossvater. Her father asked her to come home, but she begged to remain.\r
+Wherever she went and whomever she was speaking to, she felt his eyes\r
+upon her. Later on she recalled how she had asked her father to let her\r
+go to the dressing room to rearrange her dress, that Helene had followed\r
+her and spoken laughingly of her brother's love, and that she again met\r
+Anatole in the little sitting room. Helene had disappeared leaving them\r
+alone, and Anatole had taken her hand and said in a tender voice:\r
+\r
+"I cannot come to visit you but is it possible that I shall never see\r
+you? I love you madly. Can I never...?" and, blocking her path, he\r
+brought his face close to hers.\r
+\r
+His large, glittering, masculine eyes were so close to hers that she saw\r
+nothing but them.\r
+\r
+"Natalie?" he whispered inquiringly while she felt her hands being\r
+painfully pressed. "Natalie?"\r
+\r
+"I don't understand. I have nothing to say," her eyes replied.\r
+\r
+Burning lips were pressed to hers, and at the same instant she felt\r
+herself released, and Helene's footsteps and the rustle of her dress\r
+were heard in the room. Natasha looked round at her, and then, red and\r
+trembling, threw a frightened look of inquiry at Anatole and moved\r
+toward the door.\r
+\r
+"One word, just one, for God's sake!" cried Anatole.\r
+\r
+She paused. She so wanted a word from him that would explain to her what\r
+had happened and to which she could find no answer.\r
+\r
+"Natalie, just a word, only one!" he kept repeating, evidently not\r
+knowing what to say and he repeated it till Helene came up to them.\r
+\r
+Helene returned with Natasha to the drawing room. The Rostovs went away\r
+without staying for supper.\r
+\r
+After reaching home Natasha did not sleep all night. She was tormented\r
+by the insoluble question whether she loved Anatole or Prince Andrew.\r
+She loved Prince Andrew--she remembered distinctly how deeply she loved\r
+him. But she also loved Anatole, of that there was no doubt. "Else how\r
+could all this have happened?" thought she. "If, after that, I could\r
+return his smile when saying good-by, if I was able to let it come to\r
+that, it means that I loved him from the first. It means that he is\r
+kind, noble, and splendid, and I could not help loving him. What am I to\r
+do if I love him and the other one too?" she asked herself, unable to\r
+find an answer to these terrible questions.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIV\r
+\r
+Morning came with its cares and bustle. Everyone got up and began to\r
+move about and talk, dressmakers came again. Marya Dmitrievna appeared,\r
+and they were called to breakfast. Natasha kept looking uneasily at\r
+everybody with wide-open eyes, as if wishing to intercept every glance\r
+directed toward her, and tried to appear the same as usual.\r
+\r
+After breakfast, which was her best time, Marya Dmitrievna sat down in\r
+her armchair and called Natasha and the count to her.\r
+\r
+"Well, friends, I have now thought the whole matter over and this is my\r
+advice," she began. "Yesterday, as you know, I went to see Prince\r
+Bolkonski. Well, I had a talk with him.... He took it into his head to\r
+begin shouting, but I am not one to be shouted down. I said what I had\r
+to say!"\r
+\r
+"Well, and he?" asked the count.\r
+\r
+"He? He's crazy... he did not want to listen. But what's the use of\r
+talking? As it is we have worn the poor girl out," said Marya\r
+Dmitrievna. "My advice to you is finish your business and go back home\r
+to Otradnoe... and wait there."\r
+\r
+"Oh, no!" exclaimed Natasha.\r
+\r
+"Yes, go back," said Marya Dmitrievna, "and wait there. If your\r
+betrothed comes here now--there will be no avoiding a quarrel; but alone\r
+with the old man he will talk things over and then come on to you."\r
+\r
+Count Rostov approved of this suggestion, appreciating its\r
+reasonableness. If the old man came round it would be all the better to\r
+visit him in Moscow or at Bald Hills later on; and if not, the wedding,\r
+against his wishes, could only be arranged at Otradnoe.\r
+\r
+"That is perfectly true. And I am sorry I went to see him and took her,"\r
+said the old count.\r
+\r
+"No, why be sorry? Being here, you had to pay your respects. But if he\r
+won't--that's his affair," said Marya Dmitrievna, looking for something\r
+in her reticule. "Besides, the trousseau is ready, so there is nothing\r
+to wait for; and what is not ready I'll send after you. Though I don't\r
+like letting you go, it is the best way. So go, with God's blessing!"\r
+\r
+Having found what she was looking for in the reticule she handed it to\r
+Natasha. It was a letter from Princess Mary.\r
+\r
+"She has written to you. How she torments herself, poor thing! She's\r
+afraid you might think that she does not like you."\r
+\r
+"But she doesn't like me," said Natasha.\r
+\r
+"Don't talk nonsense!" cried Marya Dmitrievna.\r
+\r
+"I shan't believe anyone, I know she doesn't like me," replied Natasha\r
+boldly as she took the letter, and her face expressed a cold and angry\r
+resolution that caused Marya Dmitrievna to look at her more intently and\r
+to frown.\r
+\r
+"Don't answer like that, my good girl!" she said. "What I say is true!\r
+Write an answer!" Natasha did not reply and went to her own room to read\r
+Princess Mary's letter.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary wrote that she was in despair at the misunderstanding that\r
+had occurred between them. Whatever her father's feelings might be, she\r
+begged Natasha to believe that she could not help loving her as the one\r
+chosen by her brother, for whose happiness she was ready to sacrifice\r
+everything.\r
+\r
+"Do not think, however," she wrote, "that my father is ill-disposed\r
+toward you. He is an invalid and an old man who must be forgiven; but he\r
+is good and magnanimous and will love her who makes his son happy."\r
+Princess Mary went on to ask Natasha to fix a time when she could see\r
+her again.\r
+\r
+After reading the letter Natasha sat down at the writing table to answer\r
+it. "Dear Princess," she wrote in French quickly and mechanically, and\r
+then paused. What more could she write after all that had happened the\r
+evening before? "Yes, yes! All that has happened, and now all is\r
+changed," she thought as she sat with the letter she had begun before\r
+her. "Must I break off with him? Must I really? That's awful..." and to\r
+escape from these dreadful thoughts she went to Sonya and began sorting\r
+patterns with her.\r
+\r
+After dinner Natasha went to her room and again took up Princess Mary's\r
+letter. "Can it be that it is all over?" she thought. "Can it be that\r
+all this has happened so quickly and has destroyed all that went\r
+before?" She recalled her love for Prince Andrew in all its former\r
+strength, and at the same time felt that she loved Kuragin. She vividly\r
+pictured herself as Prince Andrew's wife, and the scenes of happiness\r
+with him she had so often repeated in her imagination, and at the same\r
+time, aglow with excitement, recalled every detail of yesterday's\r
+interview with Anatole.\r
+\r
+"Why could that not be as well?" she sometimes asked herself in complete\r
+bewilderment. "Only so could I be completely happy; but now I have to\r
+choose, and I can't be happy without either of them. Only," she thought,\r
+"to tell Prince Andrew what has happened or to hide it from him are both\r
+equally impossible. But with that one nothing is spoiled. But am I\r
+really to abandon forever the joy of Prince Andrew's love, in which I\r
+have lived so long?"\r
+\r
+"Please, Miss!" whispered a maid entering the room with a mysterious\r
+air. "A man told me to give you this-" and she handed Natasha a letter.\r
+\r
+"Only, for Christ's sake..." the girl went on, as Natasha, without\r
+thinking, mechanically broke the seal and read a love letter from\r
+Anatole, of which, without taking in a word, she understood only that it\r
+was a letter from him--from the man she loved. Yes, she loved him, or\r
+else how could that have happened which had happened? And how could she\r
+have a love letter from him in her hand?\r
+\r
+With trembling hands Natasha held that passionate love letter which\r
+Dolokhov had composed for Anatole, and as she read it she found in it an\r
+echo of all that she herself imagined she was feeling.\r
+\r
+"Since yesterday evening my fate has been sealed; to be loved by you or\r
+to die. There is no other way for me," the letter began. Then he went on\r
+to say that he knew her parents would not give her to him--for this\r
+there were secret reasons he could reveal only to her--but that if she\r
+loved him she need only say the word yes, and no human power could\r
+hinder their bliss. Love would conquer all. He would steal her away and\r
+carry her off to the ends of the earth.\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes! I love him!" thought Natasha, reading the letter for the\r
+twentieth time and finding some peculiarly deep meaning in each word of\r
+it.\r
+\r
+That evening Marya Dmitrievna was going to the Akharovs' and proposed to\r
+take the girls with her. Natasha, pleading a headache, remained at home.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XV\r
+\r
+On returning late in the evening Sonya went to Natasha's room, and to\r
+her surprise found her still dressed and asleep on the sofa. Open on the\r
+table, beside her lay Anatole's letter. Sonya picked it up and read it.\r
+\r
+As she read she glanced at the sleeping Natasha, trying to find in her\r
+face an explanation of what she was reading, but did not find it. Her\r
+face was calm, gentle, and happy. Clutching her breast to keep herself\r
+from choking, Sonya, pale and trembling with fear and agitation, sat\r
+down in an armchair and burst into tears.\r
+\r
+"How was it I noticed nothing? How could it go so far? Can she have left\r
+off loving Prince Andrew? And how could she let Kuragin go to such\r
+lengths? He is a deceiver and a villain, that's plain! What will\r
+Nicholas, dear noble Nicholas, do when he hears of it? So this is the\r
+meaning of her excited, resolute, unnatural look the day before\r
+yesterday, yesterday, and today," thought Sonya. "But it can't be that\r
+she loves him! She probably opened the letter without knowing who it was\r
+from. Probably she is offended by it. She could not do such a thing!"\r
+\r
+Sonya wiped away her tears and went up to Natasha, again scanning her\r
+face.\r
+\r
+"Natasha!" she said, just audibly.\r
+\r
+Natasha awoke and saw Sonya.\r
+\r
+"Ah, you're back?"\r
+\r
+And with the decision and tenderness that often come at the moment of\r
+awakening, she embraced her friend, but noticing Sonya's look of\r
+embarrassment, her own face expressed confusion and suspicion.\r
+\r
+"Sonya, you've read that letter?" she demanded.\r
+\r
+"Yes," answered Sonya softly.\r
+\r
+Natasha smiled rapturously.\r
+\r
+"No, Sonya, I can't any longer!" she said. "I can't hide it from you any\r
+longer. You know, we love one another! Sonya, darling, he writes...\r
+Sonya..."\r
+\r
+Sonya stared open-eyed at Natasha, unable to believe her ears.\r
+\r
+"And Bolkonski?" she asked.\r
+\r
+"Ah, Sonya, if you only knew how happy I am!" cried Natasha. "You don't\r
+know what love is...."\r
+\r
+"But, Natasha, can that be all over?"\r
+\r
+Natasha looked at Sonya with wide-open eyes as if she could not grasp\r
+the question.\r
+\r
+"Well, then, are you refusing Prince Andrew?" said Sonya.\r
+\r
+"Oh, you don't understand anything! Don't talk nonsense, just listen!"\r
+said Natasha, with momentary vexation.\r
+\r
+"But I can't believe it," insisted Sonya. "I don't understand. How is it\r
+you have loved a man for a whole year and suddenly... Why, you have only\r
+seen him three times! Natasha, I don't believe you, you're joking! In\r
+three days to forget everything and so..."\r
+\r
+"Three days?" said Natasha. "It seems to me I've loved him a hundred\r
+years. It seems to me that I have never loved anyone before. You can't\r
+understand it.... Sonya, wait a bit, sit here," and Natasha embraced and\r
+kissed her.\r
+\r
+"I had heard that it happens like this, and you must have heard it too,\r
+but it's only now that I feel such love. It's not the same as before. As\r
+soon as I saw him I felt he was my master and I his slave, and that I\r
+could not help loving him. Yes, his slave! Whatever he orders I shall\r
+do. You don't understand that. What can I do? What can I do, Sonya?"\r
+cried Natasha with a happy yet frightened expression.\r
+\r
+"But think what you are doing," cried Sonya. "I can't leave it like\r
+this. This secret correspondence... How could you let him go so far?"\r
+she went on, with a horror and disgust she could hardly conceal.\r
+\r
+"I told you that I have no will," Natasha replied. "Why can't you\r
+understand? I love him!"\r
+\r
+"Then I won't let it come to that... I shall tell!" cried Sonya,\r
+bursting into tears.\r
+\r
+"What do you mean? For God's sake... If you tell, you are my enemy!"\r
+declared Natasha. "You want me to be miserable, you want us to be\r
+separated...."\r
+\r
+When she saw Natasha's fright, Sonya shed tears of shame and pity for\r
+her friend.\r
+\r
+"But what has happened between you?" she asked. "What has he said to\r
+you? Why doesn't he come to the house?"\r
+\r
+Natasha did not answer her questions.\r
+\r
+"For God's sake, Sonya, don't tell anyone, don't torture me," Natasha\r
+entreated. "Remember no one ought to interfere in such matters! I have\r
+confided in you...."\r
+\r
+"But why this secrecy? Why doesn't he come to the house?" asked Sonya.\r
+"Why doesn't he openly ask for your hand? You know Prince Andrew gave\r
+you complete freedom--if it is really so; but I don't believe it!\r
+Natasha, have you considered what these secret reasons can be?"\r
+\r
+Natasha looked at Sonya with astonishment. Evidently this question\r
+presented itself to her mind for the first time and she did not know how\r
+to answer it.\r
+\r
+"I don't know what the reasons are. But there must be reasons!"\r
+\r
+Sonya sighed and shook her head incredulously.\r
+\r
+"If there were reasons..." she began.\r
+\r
+But Natasha, guessing her doubts, interrupted her in alarm.\r
+\r
+"Sonya, one can't doubt him! One can't, one can't! Don't you\r
+understand?" she cried.\r
+\r
+"Does he love you?"\r
+\r
+"Does he love me?" Natasha repeated with a smile of pity at her friend's\r
+lack of comprehension. "Why, you have read his letter and you have seen\r
+him."\r
+\r
+"But if he is dishonorable?"\r
+\r
+"He! dishonorable? If you only knew!" exclaimed Natasha.\r
+\r
+"If he is an honorable man he should either declare his intentions or\r
+cease seeing you; and if you won't do this, I will. I will write to him,\r
+and I will tell Papa!" said Sonya resolutely.\r
+\r
+"But I can't live without him!" cried Natasha.\r
+\r
+"Natasha, I don't understand you. And what are you saying! Think of your\r
+father and of Nicholas."\r
+\r
+"I don't want anyone, I don't love anyone but him. How dare you say he\r
+is dishonorable? Don't you know that I love him?" screamed Natasha. "Go\r
+away, Sonya! I don't want to quarrel with you, but go, for God's sake\r
+go! You see how I am suffering!" Natasha cried angrily, in a voice of\r
+despair and repressed irritation. Sonya burst into sobs and ran from the\r
+room.\r
+\r
+Natasha went to the table and without a moment's reflection wrote that\r
+answer to Princess Mary which she had been unable to write all the\r
+morning. In this letter she said briefly that all their\r
+misunderstandings were at an end; that availing herself of the\r
+magnanimity of Prince Andrew who when he went abroad had given her her\r
+freedom, she begged Princess Mary to forget everything and forgive her\r
+if she had been to blame toward her, but that she could not be his wife.\r
+At that moment this all seemed quite easy, simple, and clear to Natasha.\r
+\r
+On Friday the Rostovs were to return to the country, but on Wednesday\r
+the count went with the prospective purchaser to his estate near Moscow.\r
+\r
+On the day the count left, Sonya and Natasha were invited to a big\r
+dinner party at the Karagins', and Marya Dmitrievna took them there. At\r
+that party Natasha again met Anatole, and Sonya noticed that she spoke\r
+to him, trying not to be overheard, and that all through dinner she was\r
+more agitated than ever. When they got home Natasha was the first to\r
+begin the explanation Sonya expected.\r
+\r
+"There, Sonya, you were talking all sorts of nonsense about him,"\r
+Natasha began in a mild voice such as children use when they wish to be\r
+praised. "We have had an explanation today."\r
+\r
+"Well, what happened? What did he say? Natasha, how glad I am you're not\r
+angry with me! Tell me everything--the whole truth. What did he say?"\r
+\r
+Natasha became thoughtful.\r
+\r
+"Oh, Sonya, if you knew him as I do! He said... He asked me what I had\r
+promised Bolkonski. He was glad I was free to refuse him."\r
+\r
+Sonya sighed sorrowfully.\r
+\r
+"But you haven't refused Bolkonski?" said she.\r
+\r
+"Perhaps I have. Perhaps all is over between me and Bolkonski. Why do\r
+you think so badly of me?"\r
+\r
+"I don't think anything, only I don't understand this..."\r
+\r
+"Wait a bit, Sonya, you'll understand everything. You'll see what a man\r
+he is! Now don't think badly of me or of him. I don't think badly of\r
+anyone: I love and pity everybody. But what am I to do?"\r
+\r
+Sonya did not succumb to the tender tone Natasha used toward her. The\r
+more emotional and ingratiating the expression of Natasha's face became,\r
+the more serious and stern grew Sonya's.\r
+\r
+"Natasha," said she, "you asked me not to speak to you, and I haven't\r
+spoken, but now you yourself have begun. I don't trust him, Natasha. Why\r
+this secrecy?"\r
+\r
+"Again, again!" interrupted Natasha.\r
+\r
+"Natasha, I am afraid for you!"\r
+\r
+"Afraid of what?"\r
+\r
+"I am afraid you're going to your ruin," said Sonya resolutely, and was\r
+herself horrified at what she had said.\r
+\r
+Anger again showed in Natasha's face.\r
+\r
+"And I'll go to my ruin, I will, as soon as possible! It's not your\r
+business! It won't be you, but I, who'll suffer. Leave me alone, leave\r
+me alone! I hate you!"\r
+\r
+"Natasha!" moaned Sonya, aghast.\r
+\r
+"I hate you, I hate you! You're my enemy forever!" And Natasha ran out\r
+of the room.\r
+\r
+Natasha did not speak to Sonya again and avoided her. With the same\r
+expression of agitated surprise and guilt she went about the house,\r
+taking up now one occupation, now another, and at once abandoning them.\r
+\r
+Hard as it was for Sonya, she watched her friend and did not let her out\r
+of her sight.\r
+\r
+The day before the count was to return, Sonya noticed that Natasha sat\r
+by the drawing-room window all the morning as if expecting something and\r
+that she made a sign to an officer who drove past, whom Sonya took to be\r
+Anatole.\r
+\r
+Sonya began watching her friend still more attentively and noticed that\r
+at dinner and all that evening Natasha was in a strange and unnatural\r
+state. She answered questions at random, began sentences she did not\r
+finish, and laughed at everything.\r
+\r
+After tea Sonya noticed a housemaid at Natasha's door timidly waiting to\r
+let her pass. She let the girl go in, and then listening at the door\r
+learned that another letter had been delivered.\r
+\r
+Then suddenly it became clear to Sonya that Natasha had some dreadful\r
+plan for that evening. Sonya knocked at her door. Natasha did not let\r
+her in.\r
+\r
+"She will run away with him!" thought Sonya. "She is capable of\r
+anything. There was something particularly pathetic and resolute in her\r
+face today. She cried as she said good-by to Uncle," Sonya remembered.\r
+"Yes, that's it, she means to elope with him, but what am I to do?"\r
+thought she, recalling all the signs that clearly indicated that Natasha\r
+had some terrible intention. "The count is away. What am I to do? Write\r
+to Kuragin demanding an explanation? But what is there to oblige him to\r
+reply? Write to Pierre, as Prince Andrew asked me to in case of some\r
+misfortune?... But perhaps she really has already refused Bolkonski--she\r
+sent a letter to Princess Mary yesterday. And Uncle is away...." To tell\r
+Marya Dmitrievna who had such faith in Natasha seemed to Sonya terrible.\r
+"Well, anyway," thought Sonya as she stood in the dark passage, "now or\r
+never I must prove that I remember the family's goodness to me and that\r
+I love Nicholas. Yes! If I don't sleep for three nights I'll not leave\r
+this passage and will hold her back by force and will and not let the\r
+family be disgraced," thought she.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVI\r
+\r
+Anatole had lately moved to Dolokhov's. The plan for Natalie Rostova's\r
+abduction had been arranged and the preparations made by Dolokhov a few\r
+days before, and on the day that Sonya, after listening at Natasha's\r
+door, resolved to safeguard her, it was to have been put into execution.\r
+Natasha had promised to come out to Kuragin at the back porch at ten\r
+that evening. Kuragin was to put her into a troyka he would have ready\r
+and to drive her forty miles to the village of Kamenka, where an\r
+unfrocked priest was in readiness to perform a marriage ceremony over\r
+them. At Kamenka a relay of horses was to wait which would take them to\r
+the Warsaw highroad, and from there they would hasten abroad with post\r
+horses.\r
+\r
+Anatole had a passport, an order for post horses, ten thousand rubles he\r
+had taken from his sister and another ten thousand borrowed with\r
+Dolokhov's help.\r
+\r
+Two witnesses for the mock marriage--Khvostikov, a retired petty\r
+official whom Dolokhov made use of in his gambling transactions, and\r
+Makarin, a retired hussar, a kindly, weak fellow who had an unbounded\r
+affection for Kuragin--were sitting at tea in Dolokhov's front room.\r
+\r
+In his large study, the walls of which were hung to the ceiling with\r
+Persian rugs, bearskins, and weapons, sat Dolokhov in a traveling cloak\r
+and high boots, at an open desk on which lay abacus and some bundles of\r
+paper money. Anatole, with uniform unbuttoned, walked to and fro from\r
+the room where the witnesses were sitting, through the study to the room\r
+behind, where his French valet and others were packing the last of his\r
+things. Dolokhov was counting the money and noting something down.\r
+\r
+"Well," he said, "Khvostikov must have two thousand."\r
+\r
+"Give it to him, then," said Anatole.\r
+\r
+"Makarka" (their name for Makarin) "will go through fire and water for\r
+you for nothing. So here are our accounts all settled," said Dolokhov,\r
+showing him the memorandum. "Is that right?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, of course," returned Anatole, evidently not listening to Dolokhov\r
+and looking straight before him with a smile that did not leave his\r
+face.\r
+\r
+Dolokhov banged down the lid of his desk and turned to Anatole with an\r
+ironic smile:\r
+\r
+"Do you know? You'd really better drop it all. There's still time!"\r
+\r
+"Fool," retorted Anatole. "Don't talk nonsense! If you only knew... it's\r
+the devil knows what!"\r
+\r
+"No, really, give it up!" said Dolokhov. "I am speaking seriously. It's\r
+no joke, this plot you've hatched."\r
+\r
+"What, teasing again? Go to the devil! Eh?" said Anatole, making a\r
+grimace. "Really it's no time for your stupid jokes," and he left the\r
+room.\r
+\r
+Dolokhov smiled contemptuously and condescendingly when Anatole had gone\r
+out.\r
+\r
+"You wait a bit," he called after him. "I'm not joking, I'm talking\r
+sense. Come here, come here!"\r
+\r
+Anatole returned and looked at Dolokhov, trying to give him his\r
+attention and evidently submitting to him involuntarily.\r
+\r
+"Now listen to me. I'm telling you this for the last time. Why should I\r
+joke about it? Did I hinder you? Who arranged everything for you? Who\r
+found the priest and got the passport? Who raised the money? I did it\r
+all."\r
+\r
+"Well, thank you for it. Do you think I am not grateful?" And Anatole\r
+sighed and embraced Dolokhov.\r
+\r
+"I helped you, but all the same I must tell you the truth; it is a\r
+dangerous business, and if you think about it--a stupid business. Well,\r
+you'll carry her off--all right! Will they let it stop at that? It will\r
+come out that you're already married. Why, they'll have you in the\r
+criminal court...."\r
+\r
+"Oh, nonsense, nonsense!" Anatole ejaculated and again made a grimace.\r
+"Didn't I explain to you? What?" And Anatole, with the partiality dull-\r
+witted people have for any conclusion they have reached by their own\r
+reasoning, repeated the argument he had already put to Dolokhov a\r
+hundred times. "Didn't I explain to you that I have come to this\r
+conclusion: if this marriage is invalid," he went on, crooking one\r
+finger, "then I have nothing to answer for; but if it is valid, no\r
+matter! Abroad no one will know anything about it. Isn't that so? And\r
+don't talk to me, don't, don't."\r
+\r
+"Seriously, you'd better drop it! You'll only get yourself into a mess!"\r
+\r
+"Go to the devil!" cried Anatole and, clutching his hair, left the room,\r
+but returned at once and dropped into an armchair in front of Dolokhov\r
+with his feet turned under him. "It's the very devil! What? Feel how it\r
+beats!" He took Dolokhov's hand and put it on his heart. "What a foot,\r
+my dear fellow! What a glance! A goddess!" he added in French. "What?"\r
+\r
+Dolokhov with a cold smile and a gleam in his handsome insolent eyes\r
+looked at him--evidently wishing to get some more amusement out of him.\r
+\r
+"Well and when the money's gone, what then?"\r
+\r
+"What then? Eh?" repeated Anatole, sincerely perplexed by a thought of\r
+the future. "What then?... Then, I don't know.... But why talk\r
+nonsense!" He glanced at his watch. "It's time!"\r
+\r
+Anatole went into the back room.\r
+\r
+"Now then! Nearly ready? You're dawdling!" he shouted to the servants.\r
+\r
+Dolokhov put away the money, called a footman whom he ordered to bring\r
+something for them to eat and drink before the journey, and went into\r
+the room where Khvostikov and Makarin were sitting.\r
+\r
+Anatole lay on the sofa in the study leaning on his elbow and smiling\r
+pensively, while his handsome lips muttered tenderly to himself.\r
+\r
+"Come and eat something. Have a drink!" Dolokhov shouted to him from the\r
+other room.\r
+\r
+"I don't want to," answered Anatole continuing to smile.\r
+\r
+"Come! Balaga is here."\r
+\r
+Anatole rose and went into the dining room. Balaga was a famous troyka\r
+driver who had known Dolokhov and Anatole some six years and had given\r
+them good service with his troykas. More than once when Anatole's\r
+regiment was stationed at Tver he had taken him from Tver in the\r
+evening, brought him to Moscow by daybreak, and driven him back again\r
+the next night. More than once he had enabled Dolokhov to escape when\r
+pursued. More than once he had driven them through the town with gypsies\r
+and "ladykins" as he called the cocottes. More than once in their\r
+service he had run over pedestrians and upset vehicles in the streets of\r
+Moscow and had always been protected from the consequences by "my\r
+gentlemen" as he called them. He had ruined more than one horse in their\r
+service. More than once they had beaten him, and more than once they had\r
+made him drunk on champagne and Madeira, which he loved; and he knew\r
+more than one thing about each of them which would long ago have sent an\r
+ordinary man to Siberia. They often called Balaga into their orgies and\r
+made him drink and dance at the gypsies', and more than one thousand\r
+rubles of their money had passed through his hands. In their service he\r
+risked his skin and his life twenty times a year, and in their service\r
+had lost more horses than the money he had from them would buy. But he\r
+liked them; liked that mad driving at twelve miles an hour, liked\r
+upsetting a driver or running down a pedestrian, and flying at full\r
+gallop through the Moscow streets. He liked to hear those wild, tipsy\r
+shouts behind him: "Get on! Get on!" when it was impossible to go any\r
+faster. He liked giving a painful lash on the neck to some peasant who,\r
+more dead than alive, was already hurrying out of his way. "Real\r
+gentlemen!" he considered them.\r
+\r
+Anatole and Dolokhov liked Balaga too for his masterly driving and\r
+because he liked the things they liked. With others Balaga bargained,\r
+charging twenty-five rubles for a two hours' drive, and rarely drove\r
+himself, generally letting his young men do so. But with "his gentlemen"\r
+he always drove himself and never demanded anything for his work. Only a\r
+couple of times a year--when he knew from their valets that they had\r
+money in hand--he would turn up of a morning quite sober and with a deep\r
+bow would ask them to help him. The gentlemen always made him sit down.\r
+\r
+"Do help me out, Theodore Ivanych, sir," or "your excellency," he would\r
+say. "I am quite out of horses. Let me have what you can to go to the\r
+fair."\r
+\r
+And Anatole and Dolokhov, when they had money, would give him a thousand\r
+or a couple of thousand rubles.\r
+\r
+Balaga was a fair-haired, short, and snub-nosed peasant of about twenty-\r
+seven; red-faced, with a particularly red thick neck, glittering little\r
+eyes, and a small beard. He wore a fine, dark-blue, silk-lined cloth\r
+coat over a sheepskin.\r
+\r
+On entering the room now he crossed himself, turning toward the front\r
+corner of the room, and went up to Dolokhov, holding out a small, black\r
+hand.\r
+\r
+"Theodore Ivanych!" he said, bowing.\r
+\r
+"How d'you do, friend? Well, here he is!"\r
+\r
+"Good day, your excellency!" he said, again holding out his hand to\r
+Anatole who had just come in.\r
+\r
+"I say, Balaga," said Anatole, putting his hands on the man's shoulders,\r
+"do you care for me or not? Eh? Now, do me a service.... What horses\r
+have you come with? Eh?"\r
+\r
+"As your messenger ordered, your special beasts," replied Balaga.\r
+\r
+"Well, listen, Balaga! Drive all three to death but get me there in\r
+three hours. Eh?"\r
+\r
+"When they are dead, what shall I drive?" said Balaga with a wink.\r
+\r
+"Mind, I'll smash your face in! Don't make jokes!" cried Anatole,\r
+suddenly rolling his eyes.\r
+\r
+"Why joke?" said the driver, laughing. "As if I'd grudge my gentlemen\r
+anything! As fast as ever the horses can gallop, so fast we'll go!"\r
+\r
+"Ah!" said Anatole. "Well, sit down."\r
+\r
+"Yes, sit down!" said Dolokhov.\r
+\r
+"I'll stand, Theodore Ivanych."\r
+\r
+"Sit down; nonsense! Have a drink!" said Anatole, and filled a large\r
+glass of Madeira for him.\r
+\r
+The driver's eyes sparkled at the sight of the wine. After refusing it\r
+for manners' sake, he drank it and wiped his mouth with a red silk\r
+handkerchief he took out of his cap.\r
+\r
+"And when are we to start, your excellency?"\r
+\r
+"Well..." Anatole looked at his watch. "We'll start at once. Mind,\r
+Balaga! You'll get there in time? Eh?"\r
+\r
+"That depends on our luck in starting, else why shouldn't we be there in\r
+time?" replied Balaga. "Didn't we get you to Tver in seven hours? I\r
+think you remember that, your excellency?"\r
+\r
+"Do you know, one Christmas I drove from Tver," said Anatole, smilingly\r
+at the recollection and turning to Makarin who gazed rapturously at him\r
+with wide-open eyes. "Will you believe it, Makarka, it took one's breath\r
+away, the rate we flew. We came across a train of loaded sleighs and\r
+drove right over two of them. Eh?"\r
+\r
+"Those were horses!" Balaga continued the tale. "That time I'd harnessed\r
+two young side horses with the bay in the shafts," he went on, turning\r
+to Dolokhov. "Will you believe it, Theodore Ivanych, those animals flew\r
+forty miles? I couldn't hold them in, my hands grew numb in the sharp\r
+frost so that I threw down the reins--'Catch hold yourself, your\r
+excellency!' says I, and I just tumbled on the bottom of the sleigh and\r
+sprawled there. It wasn't a case of urging them on, there was no holding\r
+them in till we reached the place. The devils took us there in three\r
+hours! Only the near one died of it."\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVII\r
+\r
+Anatole went out of the room and returned a few minutes later wearing a\r
+fur coat girt with a silver belt, and a sable cap jauntily set on one\r
+side and very becoming to his handsome face. Having looked in a mirror,\r
+and standing before Dolokhov in the same pose he had assumed before it,\r
+he lifted a glass of wine.\r
+\r
+"Well, good-by, Theodore. Thank you for everything and farewell!" said\r
+Anatole. "Well, comrades and friends..." he considered for a moment\r
+"...of my youth, farewell!" he said, turning to Makarin and the others.\r
+\r
+Though they were all going with him, Anatole evidently wished to make\r
+something touching and solemn out of this address to his comrades. He\r
+spoke slowly in a loud voice and throwing out his chest slightly swayed\r
+one leg.\r
+\r
+"All take glasses; you too, Balaga. Well, comrades and friends of my\r
+youth, we've had our fling and lived and reveled. Eh? And now, when\r
+shall we meet again? I am going abroad. We have had a good time--now\r
+farewell, lads! To our health! Hurrah!..." he cried, and emptying his\r
+glass flung it on the floor.\r
+\r
+"To your health!" said Balaga who also emptied his glass, and wiped his\r
+mouth with his handkerchief.\r
+\r
+Makarin embraced Anatole with tears in his eyes.\r
+\r
+"Ah, Prince, how sorry I am to part from you!\r
+\r
+"Let's go. Let's go!" cried Anatole.\r
+\r
+Balaga was about to leave the room.\r
+\r
+"No, stop!" said Anatole. "Shut the door; we have first to sit down.\r
+That's the way."\r
+\r
+They shut the door and all sat down.\r
+\r
+"Now, quick march, lads!" said Anatole, rising.\r
+\r
+Joseph, his valet, handed him his sabretache and saber, and they all\r
+went out into the vestibule.\r
+\r
+"And where's the fur cloak?" asked Dolokhov. "Hey, Ignatka! Go to\r
+Matrena Matrevna and ask her for the sable cloak. I have heard what\r
+elopements are like," continued Dolokhov with a wink. "Why, she'll rush\r
+out more dead than alive just in the things she is wearing; if you delay\r
+at all there'll be tears and 'Papa' and 'Mamma,' and she's frozen in a\r
+minute and must go back--but you wrap the fur cloak round her first\r
+thing and carry her to the sleigh."\r
+\r
+The valet brought a woman's fox-lined cloak.\r
+\r
+"Fool, I told you the sable one! Hey, Matrena, the sable!" he shouted so\r
+that his voice rang far through the rooms.\r
+\r
+A handsome, slim, and pale-faced gypsy girl with glittering black eyes\r
+and curly blue-black hair, wearing a red shawl, ran out with a sable\r
+mantle on her arm.\r
+\r
+"Here, I don't grudge it--take it!" she said, evidently afraid of her\r
+master and yet regretful of her cloak.\r
+\r
+Dolokhov, without answering, took the cloak, threw it over Matrena, and\r
+wrapped her up in it.\r
+\r
+"That's the way," said Dolokhov, "and then so!" and he turned the collar\r
+up round her head, leaving only a little of the face uncovered. "And\r
+then so, do you see?" and he pushed Anatole's head forward to meet the\r
+gap left by the collar, through which Matrena's brilliant smile was\r
+seen.\r
+\r
+"Well, good-by, Matrena," said Anatole, kissing her. "Ah, my revels here\r
+are over. Remember me to Steshka. There, good-by! Good-bye, Matrena,\r
+wish me luck!"\r
+\r
+"Well, Prince, may God give you great luck!" said Matrena in her gypsy\r
+accent.\r
+\r
+Two troykas were standing before the porch and two young drivers were\r
+holding the horses. Balaga took his seat in the front one and holding\r
+his elbows high arranged the reins deliberately. Anatole and Dolokhov\r
+got in with him. Makarin, Khvostikov, and a valet seated themselves in\r
+the other sleigh.\r
+\r
+"Well, are you ready?" asked Balaga.\r
+\r
+"Go!" he cried, twisting the reins round his hands, and the troyka tore\r
+down the Nikitski Boulevard.\r
+\r
+"Tproo! Get out of the way! Hi!... Tproo!..." The shouting of Balaga and\r
+of the sturdy young fellow seated on the box was all that could be\r
+heard. On the Arbat Square the troyka caught against a carriage;\r
+something cracked, shouts were heard, and the troyka flew along the\r
+Arbat Street.\r
+\r
+After taking a turn along the Podnovinski Boulevard, Balaga began to\r
+rein in, and turning back drew up at the crossing of the old Konyusheny\r
+Street.\r
+\r
+The young fellow on the box jumped down to hold the horses and Anatole\r
+and Dolokhov went along the pavement. When they reached the gate\r
+Dolokhov whistled. The whistle was answered, and a maidservant ran out.\r
+\r
+"Come into the courtyard or you'll be seen; she'll come out directly,"\r
+said she.\r
+\r
+Dolokhov stayed by the gate. Anatole followed the maid into the\r
+courtyard, turned the corner, and ran up into the porch.\r
+\r
+He was met by Gabriel, Marya Dmitrievna's gigantic footman.\r
+\r
+"Come to the mistress, please," said the footman in his deep bass,\r
+intercepting any retreat.\r
+\r
+"To what Mistress? Who are you?" asked Anatole in a breathless whisper.\r
+\r
+"Kindly step in, my orders are to bring you in."\r
+\r
+"Kuragin! Come back!" shouted Dolokhov. "Betrayed! Back!"\r
+\r
+Dolokhov, after Anatole entered, had remained at the wicket gate and was\r
+struggling with the yard porter who was trying to lock it. With a last\r
+desperate effort Dolokhov pushed the porter aside, and when Anatole ran\r
+back seized him by the arm, pulled him through the wicket, and ran back\r
+with him to the troyka.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVIII\r
+\r
+Marya Dmitrievna, having found Sonya weeping in the corridor, made her\r
+confess everything, and intercepting the note to Natasha she read it and\r
+went into Natasha's room with it in her hand.\r
+\r
+"You shameless good-for-nothing!" said she. "I won't hear a word."\r
+\r
+Pushing back Natasha who looked at her with astonished but tearless\r
+eyes, she locked her in; and having given orders to the yard porter to\r
+admit the persons who would be coming that evening, but not to let them\r
+out again, and having told the footman to bring them up to her, she\r
+seated herself in the drawing room to await the abductors.\r
+\r
+When Gabriel came to inform her that the men who had come had run away\r
+again, she rose frowning, and clasping her hands behind her paced\r
+through the rooms a long time considering what she should do. Toward\r
+midnight she went to Natasha's room fingering the key in her pocket.\r
+Sonya was sitting sobbing in the corridor. "Marya Dmitrievna, for God's\r
+sake let me in to her!" she pleaded, but Marya Dmitrievna unlocked the\r
+door and went in without giving her an answer.... "Disgusting,\r
+abominable... In my house... horrid girl, hussy! I'm only sorry for her\r
+father!" thought she, trying to restrain her wrath. "Hard as it may be,\r
+I'll tell them all to hold their tongues and will hide it from the\r
+count." She entered the room with resolute steps. Natasha lying on the\r
+sofa, her head hidden in her hands, and she did not stir. She was in\r
+just the same position in which Marya Dmitrievna had left her.\r
+\r
+"A nice girl! Very nice!" said Marya Dmitrievna. "Arranging meetings\r
+with lovers in my house! It's no use pretending: you listen when I speak\r
+to you!" And Marya Dmitrievna touched her arm. "Listen when I speak!\r
+You've disgraced yourself like the lowest of hussies. I'd treat you\r
+differently, but I'm sorry for your father, so I will conceal it."\r
+\r
+Natasha did not change her position, but her whole body heaved with\r
+noiseless, convulsive sobs which choked her. Marya Dmitrievna glanced\r
+round at Sonya and seated herself on the sofa beside Natasha.\r
+\r
+"It's lucky for him that he escaped me; but I'll find him!" she said in\r
+her rough voice. "Do you hear what I am saying or not?" she added.\r
+\r
+She put her large hand under Natasha's face and turned it toward her.\r
+Both Marya Dmitrievna and Sonya were amazed when they saw how Natasha\r
+looked. Her eyes were dry and glistening, her lips compressed, her\r
+cheeks sunken.\r
+\r
+"Let me be!... What is it to me?... I shall die!" she muttered,\r
+wrenching herself from Marya Dmitrievna's hands with a vicious effort\r
+and sinking down again into her former position.\r
+\r
+"Natalie!" said Marya Dmitrievna. "I wish for your good. Lie still, stay\r
+like that then, I won't touch you. But listen. I won't tell you how\r
+guilty you are. You know that yourself. But when your father comes back\r
+tomorrow what am I to tell him? Eh?"\r
+\r
+Again Natasha's body shook with sobs.\r
+\r
+"Suppose he finds out, and your brother, and your betrothed?"\r
+\r
+"I have no betrothed: I have refused him!" cried Natasha.\r
+\r
+"That's all the same," continued Marya Dmitrievna. "If they hear of\r
+this, will they let it pass? He, your father, I know him... if he\r
+challenges him to a duel will that be all right? Eh?"\r
+\r
+"Oh, let me be! Why have you interfered at all? Why? Why? Who asked you\r
+to?" shouted Natasha, raising herself on the sofa and looking\r
+malignantly at Marya Dmitrievna.\r
+\r
+"But what did you want?" cried Marya Dmitrievna, growing angry again.\r
+"Were you kept under lock and key? Who hindered his coming to the house?\r
+Why carry you off as if you were some gypsy singing girl?... Well, if he\r
+had carried you off... do you think they wouldn't have found him? Your\r
+father, or brother, or your betrothed? And he's a scoundrel, a wretch--\r
+that's a fact!"\r
+\r
+"He is better than any of you!" exclaimed Natasha getting up. "If you\r
+hadn't interfered... Oh, my God! What is it all? What is it? Sonya,\r
+why?... Go away!"\r
+\r
+And she burst into sobs with the despairing vehemence with which people\r
+bewail disasters they feel they have themselves occasioned. Marya\r
+Dmitrievna was to speak again but Natasha cried out:\r
+\r
+"Go away! Go away! You all hate and despise me!" and she threw herself\r
+back on the sofa.\r
+\r
+Marya Dmitrievna went on admonishing her for some time, enjoining on her\r
+that it must all be kept from her father and assuring her that nobody\r
+would know anything about it if only Natasha herself would undertake to\r
+forget it all and not let anyone see that something had happened.\r
+Natasha did not reply, nor did she sob any longer, but she grew cold and\r
+had a shivering fit. Marya Dmitrievna put a pillow under her head,\r
+covered her with two quilts, and herself brought her some lime-flower\r
+water, but Natasha did not respond to her.\r
+\r
+"Well, let her sleep," said Marya Dmitrievna as she went out of the room\r
+supposing Natasha to be asleep.\r
+\r
+But Natasha was not asleep; with pale face and fixed wide-open eyes she\r
+looked straight before her. All that night she did not sleep or weep and\r
+did not speak to Sonya who got up and went to her several times.\r
+\r
+Next day Count Rostov returned from his estate near Moscow in time for\r
+lunch as he had promised. He was in very good spirits; the affair with\r
+the purchaser was going on satisfactorily, and there was nothing to keep\r
+him any longer in Moscow, away from the countess whom he missed. Marya\r
+Dmitrievna met him and told him that Natasha had been very unwell the\r
+day before and that they had sent for the doctor, but that she was\r
+better now. Natasha had not left her room that morning. With compressed\r
+and parched lips and dry fixed eyes, she sat at the window, uneasily\r
+watching the people who drove past and hurriedly glancing round at\r
+anyone who entered the room. She was evidently expecting news of him and\r
+that he would come or would write to her.\r
+\r
+When the count came to see her she turned anxiously round at the sound\r
+of a man's footstep, and then her face resumed its cold and malevolent\r
+expression. She did not even get up to greet him. "What is the matter\r
+with you, my angel? Are you ill?" asked the count.\r
+\r
+After a moment's silence Natasha answered: "Yes, ill."\r
+\r
+In reply to the count's anxious inquiries as to why she was so dejected\r
+and whether anything had happened to her betrothed, she assured him that\r
+nothing had happened and asked him not to worry. Marya Dmitrievna\r
+confirmed Natasha's assurances that nothing had happened. From the\r
+pretense of illness, from his daughter's distress, and by the\r
+embarrassed faces of Sonya and Marya Dmitrievna, the count saw clearly\r
+that something had gone wrong during his absence, but it was so terrible\r
+for him to think that anything disgraceful had happened to his beloved\r
+daughter, and he so prized his own cheerful tranquillity, that he\r
+avoided inquiries and tried to assure himself that nothing particularly\r
+had happened; and he was only dissatisfied that her indisposition\r
+delayed their return to the country.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIX\r
+\r
+From the day his wife arrived in Moscow Pierre had been intending to go\r
+away somewhere, so as not to be near her. Soon after the Rostovs came to\r
+Moscow the effect Natasha had on him made him hasten to carry out his\r
+intention. He went to Tver to see Joseph Alexeevich's widow, who had\r
+long since promised to hand over to him some papers of her deceased\r
+husband's.\r
+\r
+When he returned to Moscow Pierre was handed a letter from Marya\r
+Dmitrievna asking him to come and see her on a matter of great\r
+importance relating to Andrew Bolkonski and his betrothed. Pierre had\r
+been avoiding Natasha because it seemed to him that his feeling for her\r
+was stronger than a married man's should be for his friend's fiancee.\r
+Yet some fate constantly threw them together.\r
+\r
+"What can have happened? And what can they want with me?" thought he as\r
+he dressed to go to Marya Dmitrievna's. "If only Prince Andrew would\r
+hurry up and come and marry her!" thought he on his way to the house.\r
+\r
+On the Tverskoy Boulevard a familiar voice called to him.\r
+\r
+"Pierre! Been back long?" someone shouted. Pierre raised his head. In a\r
+sleigh drawn by two gray trotting-horses that were bespattering the\r
+dashboard with snow, Anatole and his constant companion Makarin dashed\r
+past. Anatole was sitting upright in the classic pose of military\r
+dandies, the lower part of his face hidden by his beaver collar and his\r
+head slightly bent. His face was fresh and rosy, his white-plumed hat,\r
+tilted to one side, disclosed his curled and pomaded hair besprinkled\r
+with powdery snow.\r
+\r
+"Yes, indeed, that's a true sage," thought Pierre. "He sees nothing\r
+beyond the pleasure of the moment, nothing troubles him and so he is\r
+always cheerful, satisfied, and serene. What wouldn't I give to be like\r
+him!" he thought enviously.\r
+\r
+In Marya Dmitrievna's anteroom the footman who helped him off with his\r
+fur coat said that the mistress asked him to come to her bedroom.\r
+\r
+When he opened the ballroom door Pierre saw Natasha sitting at the\r
+window, with a thin, pale, and spiteful face. She glanced round at him,\r
+frowned, and left the room with an expression of cold dignity.\r
+\r
+"What has happened?" asked Pierre, entering Marya Dmitrievna's room.\r
+\r
+"Fine doings!" answered Dmitrievna. "For fifty-eight years have I lived\r
+in this world and never known anything so disgraceful!"\r
+\r
+And having put him on his honor not to repeat anything she told him,\r
+Marya Dmitrievna informed him that Natasha had refused Prince Andrew\r
+without her parents' knowledge and that the cause of this was Anatole\r
+Kuragin into whose society Pierre's wife had thrown her and with whom\r
+Natasha had tried to elope during her father's absence, in order to be\r
+married secretly.\r
+\r
+Pierre raised his shoulders and listened open-mouthed to what was told\r
+him, scarcely able to believe his own ears. That Prince Andrew's deeply\r
+loved affianced wife--the same Natasha Rostova who used to be so\r
+charming--should give up Bolkonski for that fool Anatole who was already\r
+secretly married (as Pierre knew), and should be so in love with him as\r
+to agree to run away with him, was something Pierre could not conceive\r
+and could not imagine.\r
+\r
+He could not reconcile the charming impression he had of Natasha, whom\r
+he had known from a child, with this new conception of her baseness,\r
+folly, and cruelty. He thought of his wife. "They are all alike!" he\r
+said to himself, reflecting that he was not the only man unfortunate\r
+enough to be tied to a bad woman. But still he pitied Prince Andrew to\r
+the point of tears and sympathized with his wounded pride, and the more\r
+he pitied his friend the more did he think with contempt and even with\r
+disgust of that Natasha who had just passed him in the ballroom with\r
+such a look of cold dignity. He did not know that Natasha's soul was\r
+overflowing with despair, shame, and humiliation, and that it was not\r
+her fault that her face happened to assume an expression of calm dignity\r
+and severity.\r
+\r
+"But how get married?" said Pierre, in answer to Marya Dmitrievna. "He\r
+could not marry--he is married!"\r
+\r
+"Things get worse from hour to hour!" ejaculated Marya Dmitrievna. "A\r
+nice youth! What a scoundrel! And she's expecting him--expecting him\r
+since yesterday. She must be told! Then at least she won't go on\r
+expecting him."\r
+\r
+After hearing the details of Anatole's marriage from Pierre, and giving\r
+vent to her anger against Anatole in words of abuse, Marya Dmitrievna\r
+told Pierre why she had sent for him. She was afraid that the count or\r
+Bolkonski, who might arrive at any moment, if they knew of this affair\r
+(which she hoped to hide from them) might challenge Anatole to a duel,\r
+and she therefore asked Pierre to tell his brother-in-law in her name to\r
+leave Moscow and not dare to let her set eyes on him again. Pierre--only\r
+now realizing the danger to the old count, Nicholas, and Prince Andrew--\r
+promised to do as she wished. Having briefly and exactly explained her\r
+wishes to him, she let him go to the drawing room.\r
+\r
+"Mind, the count knows nothing. Behave as if you know nothing either,"\r
+she said. "And I will go and tell her it is no use expecting him! And\r
+stay to dinner if you care to!" she called after Pierre.\r
+\r
+Pierre met the old count, who seemed nervous and upset. That morning\r
+Natasha had told him that she had rejected Bolkonski.\r
+\r
+"Troubles, troubles, my dear fellow!" he said to Pierre. "What troubles\r
+one has with these girls without their mother! I do so regret having\r
+come here.... I will be frank with you. Have you heard she has broken\r
+off her engagement without consulting anybody? It's true this engagement\r
+never was much to my liking. Of course he is an excellent man, but\r
+still, with his father's disapproval they wouldn't have been happy, and\r
+Natasha won't lack suitors. Still, it has been going on so long, and to\r
+take such a step without father's or mother's consent! And now she's\r
+ill, and God knows what! It's hard, Count, hard to manage daughters in\r
+their mother's absence...."\r
+\r
+Pierre saw that the count was much upset and tried to change the\r
+subject, but the count returned to his troubles.\r
+\r
+Sonya entered the room with an agitated face.\r
+\r
+"Natasha is not quite well; she's in her room and would like to see you.\r
+Marya Dmitrievna is with her and she too asks you to come."\r
+\r
+"Yes, you are a great friend of Bolkonski's, no doubt she wants to send\r
+him a message," said the count. "Oh dear! Oh dear! How happy it all\r
+was!"\r
+\r
+And clutching the spare gray locks on his temples the count left the\r
+room.\r
+\r
+When Marya Dmitrievna told Natasha that Anatole was married, Natasha did\r
+not wish to believe it and insisted on having it confirmed by Pierre\r
+himself. Sonya told Pierre this as she led him along the corridor to\r
+Natasha's room.\r
+\r
+Natasha, pale and stern, was sitting beside Marya Dmitrievna, and her\r
+eyes, glittering feverishly, met Pierre with a questioning look the\r
+moment he entered. She did not smile or nod, but only gazed fixedly at\r
+him, and her look asked only one thing: was he a friend, or like the\r
+others an enemy in regard to Anatole? As for Pierre, he evidently did\r
+not exist for her.\r
+\r
+"He knows all about it," said Marya Dmitrievna pointing to Pierre and\r
+addressing Natasha. "Let him tell you whether I have told the truth."\r
+\r
+Natasha looked from one to the other as a hunted and wounded animal\r
+looks at the approaching dogs and sportsmen.\r
+\r
+"Natalya Ilynichna," Pierre began, dropping his eyes with a feeling of\r
+pity for her and loathing for the thing he had to do, "whether it is\r
+true or not should make no difference to you, because..."\r
+\r
+"Then it is not true that he's married!"\r
+\r
+"Yes, it is true."\r
+\r
+"Has he been married long?" she asked. "On your honor?..."\r
+\r
+Pierre gave his word of honor.\r
+\r
+"Is he still here?" she asked, quickly.\r
+\r
+"Yes, I have just seen him."\r
+\r
+She was evidently unable to speak and made a sign with her hands that\r
+they should leave her alone.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XX\r
+\r
+Pierre did not stay for dinner, but left the room and went away at once.\r
+He drove through the town seeking Anatole Kuragin, at the thought of\r
+whom now the blood rushed to his heart and he felt a difficulty in\r
+breathing. He was not at the ice hills, nor at the gypsies', nor at\r
+Komoneno's. Pierre drove to the club. In the club all was going on as\r
+usual. The members who were assembling for dinner were sitting about in\r
+groups; they greeted Pierre and spoke of the town news. The footman\r
+having greeted him, knowing his habits and his acquaintances, told him\r
+there was a place left for him in the small dining room and that Prince\r
+Michael Zakharych was in the library, but Paul Timofeevich had not yet\r
+arrived. One of Pierre's acquaintances, while they were talking about\r
+the weather, asked if he had heard of Kuragin's abduction of Rostova\r
+which was talked of in the town, and was it true? Pierre laughed and\r
+said it was nonsense for he had just come from the Rostovs'. He asked\r
+everyone about Anatole. One man told him he had not come yet, and\r
+another that he was coming to dinner. Pierre felt it strange to see this\r
+calm, indifferent crowd of people unaware of what was going on in his\r
+soul. He paced through the ballroom, waited till everyone had come, and\r
+as Anatole had not turned up did not stay for dinner but drove home.\r
+\r
+Anatole, for whom Pierre was looking, dined that day with Dolokhov,\r
+consulting him as to how to remedy this unfortunate affair. It seemed to\r
+him essential to see Natasha. In the evening he drove to his sister's to\r
+discuss with her how to arrange a meeting. When Pierre returned home\r
+after vainly hunting all over Moscow, his valet informed him that Prince\r
+Anatole was with the countess. The countess' drawing room was full of\r
+guests.\r
+\r
+Pierre without greeting his wife whom he had not seen since his return--\r
+at that moment she was more repulsive to him than ever--entered the\r
+drawing room and seeing Anatole went up to him.\r
+\r
+"Ah, Pierre," said the countess going up to her husband. "You don't know\r
+what a plight our Anatole..."\r
+\r
+She stopped, seeing in the forward thrust of her husband's head, in his\r
+glowing eyes and his resolute gait, the terrible indications of that\r
+rage and strength which she knew and had herself experienced after his\r
+duel with Dolokhov.\r
+\r
+"Where you are, there is vice and evil!" said Pierre to his wife.\r
+"Anatole, come with me! I must speak to you," he added in French.\r
+\r
+Anatole glanced round at his sister and rose submissively, ready to\r
+follow Pierre. Pierre, taking him by the arm, pulled him toward himself\r
+and was leading him from the room.\r
+\r
+"If you allow yourself in my drawing room..." whispered Helene, but\r
+Pierre did not reply and went out of the room.\r
+\r
+Anatole followed him with his usual jaunty step but his face betrayed\r
+anxiety.\r
+\r
+Having entered his study Pierre closed the door and addressed Anatole\r
+without looking at him.\r
+\r
+"You promised Countess Rostova to marry her and were about to elope with\r
+her, is that so?"\r
+\r
+"Mon cher," answered Anatole (their whole conversation was in French),\r
+"I don't consider myself bound to answer questions put to me in that\r
+tone."\r
+\r
+Pierre's face, already pale, became distorted by fury. He seized Anatole\r
+by the collar of his uniform with his big hand and shook him from side\r
+to side till Anatole's face showed a sufficient degree of terror.\r
+\r
+"When I tell you that I must talk to you!..." repeated Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Come now, this is stupid. What?" said Anatole, fingering a button of\r
+his collar that had been wrenched loose with a bit of the cloth.\r
+\r
+"You're a scoundrel and a blackguard, and I don't know what deprives me\r
+from the pleasure of smashing your head with this!" said Pierre,\r
+expressing himself so artificially because he was talking French.\r
+\r
+He took a heavy paperweight and lifted it threateningly, but at once put\r
+it back in its place.\r
+\r
+"Did you promise to marry her?"\r
+\r
+"I... I didn't think of it. I never promised, because..."\r
+\r
+Pierre interrupted him.\r
+\r
+"Have you any letters of hers? Any letters?" he said, moving toward\r
+Anatole.\r
+\r
+Anatole glanced at him and immediately thrust his hand into his pocket\r
+and drew out his pocketbook.\r
+\r
+Pierre took the letter Anatole handed him and, pushing aside a table\r
+that stood in his way, threw himself on the sofa.\r
+\r
+"I shan't be violent, don't be afraid!" said Pierre in answer to a\r
+frightened gesture of Anatole's. "First, the letters," said he, as if\r
+repeating a lesson to himself. "Secondly," he continued after a short\r
+pause, again rising and again pacing the room, "tomorrow you must get\r
+out of Moscow."\r
+\r
+"But how can I?..."\r
+\r
+"Thirdly," Pierre continued without listening to him, "you must never\r
+breathe a word of what has passed between you and Countess Rostova. I\r
+know I can't prevent your doing so, but if you have a spark of\r
+conscience..." Pierre paced the room several times in silence.\r
+\r
+Anatole sat at a table frowning and biting his lips.\r
+\r
+"After all, you must understand that besides your pleasure there is such\r
+a thing as other people's happiness and peace, and that you are ruining\r
+a whole life for the sake of amusing yourself! Amuse yourself with women\r
+like my wife--with them you are within your rights, for they know what\r
+you want of them. They are armed against you by the same experience of\r
+debauchery; but to promise a maid to marry her... to deceive, to\r
+kidnap.... Don't you understand that it is as mean as beating an old man\r
+or a child?..."\r
+\r
+Pierre paused and looked at Anatole no longer with an angry but with a\r
+questioning look.\r
+\r
+"I don't know about that, eh?" said Anatole, growing more confident as\r
+Pierre mastered his wrath. "I don't know that and don't want to," he\r
+said, not looking at Pierre and with a slight tremor of his lower jaw,\r
+"but you have used such words to me--'mean' and so on--which as a man of\r
+honor I can't allow anyone to use."\r
+\r
+Pierre glanced at him with amazement, unable to understand what he\r
+wanted.\r
+\r
+"Though it was tête-à -tête," Anatole continued, "still I can't..."\r
+\r
+"Is it satisfaction you want?" said Pierre ironically.\r
+\r
+"You could at least take back your words. What? If you want me to do as\r
+you wish, eh?"\r
+\r
+"I take them back, I take them back!" said Pierre, "and I ask you to\r
+forgive me." Pierre involuntarily glanced at the loose button. "And if\r
+you require money for your journey..."\r
+\r
+Anatole smiled. The expression of that base and cringing smile, which\r
+Pierre knew so well in his wife, revolted him.\r
+\r
+"Oh, vile and heartless brood!" he exclaimed, and left the room.\r
+\r
+Next day Anatole left for Petersburg.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXI\r
+\r
+Pierre drove to Marya Dmitrievna's to tell her of the fulfillment of her\r
+wish that Kuragin should be banished from Moscow. The whole house was in\r
+a state of alarm and commotion. Natasha was very ill, having, as Marya\r
+Dmitrievna told him in secret, poisoned herself the night after she had\r
+been told that Anatole was married, with some arsenic she had stealthily\r
+procured. After swallowing a little she had been so frightened that she\r
+woke Sonya and told her what she had done. The necessary antidotes had\r
+been administered in time and she was now out of danger, though still so\r
+weak that it was out of the question to move her to the country, and so\r
+the countess had been sent for. Pierre saw the distracted count, and\r
+Sonya, who had a tear-stained face, but he could not see Natasha.\r
+\r
+Pierre dined at the club that day and heard on all sides gossip about\r
+the attempted abduction of Rostova. He resolutely denied these rumors,\r
+assuring everyone that nothing had happened except that his brother-in-\r
+law had proposed to her and been refused. It seemed to Pierre that it\r
+was his duty to conceal the whole affair and re-establish Natasha's\r
+reputation.\r
+\r
+He was awaiting Prince Andrew's return with dread and went every day to\r
+the old prince's for news of him.\r
+\r
+Old Prince Bolkonski heard all the rumors current in the town from\r
+Mademoiselle Bourienne and had read the note to Princess Mary in which\r
+Natasha had broken off her engagement. He seemed in better spirits than\r
+usual and awaited his son with great impatience.\r
+\r
+Some days after Anatole's departure Pierre received a note from Prince\r
+Andrew, informing him of his arrival and asking him to come to see him.\r
+\r
+As soon as he reached Moscow, Prince Andrew had received from his father\r
+Natasha's note to Princess Mary breaking off her engagement\r
+(Mademoiselle Bourienne had purloined it from Princess Mary and given it\r
+to the old prince), and he heard from him the story of Natasha's\r
+elopement, with additions.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew had arrived in the evening and Pierre came to see him next\r
+morning. Pierre expected to find Prince Andrew in almost the same state\r
+as Natasha and was therefore surprised on entering the drawing room to\r
+hear him in the study talking in a loud animated voice about some\r
+intrigue going on in Petersburg. The old prince's voice and another now\r
+and then interrupted him. Princess Mary came out to meet Pierre. She\r
+sighed, looking toward the door of the room where Prince Andrew was,\r
+evidently intending to express her sympathy with his sorrow, but Pierre\r
+saw by her face that she was glad both at what had happened and at the\r
+way her brother had taken the news of Natasha's faithlessness.\r
+\r
+"He says he expected it," she remarked. "I know his pride will not let\r
+him express his feelings, but still he has taken it better, far better,\r
+than I expected. Evidently it had to be...."\r
+\r
+"But is it possible that all is really ended?" asked Pierre.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary looked at him with astonishment. She did not understand\r
+how he could ask such a question. Pierre went into the study. Prince\r
+Andrew, greatly changed and plainly in better health, but with a fresh\r
+horizontal wrinkle between his brows, stood in civilian dress facing his\r
+father and Prince Meshcherski, warmly disputing and vigorously\r
+gesticulating. The conversation was about Speranski--the news of whose\r
+sudden exile and alleged treachery had just reached Moscow.\r
+\r
+"Now he is censured and accused by all who were enthusiastic about him a\r
+month ago," Prince Andrew was saying, "and by those who were unable to\r
+understand his aims. To judge a man who is in disfavor and to throw on\r
+him all the blame of other men's mistakes is very easy, but I maintain\r
+that if anything good has been accomplished in this reign it was done by\r
+him, by him alone."\r
+\r
+He paused at the sight of Pierre. His face quivered and immediately\r
+assumed a vindictive expression.\r
+\r
+"Posterity will do him justice," he concluded, and at once turned to\r
+Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Well, how are you? Still getting stouter?" he said with animation, but\r
+the new wrinkle on his forehead deepened. "Yes, I am well," he said in\r
+answer to Pierre's question, and smiled.\r
+\r
+To Pierre that smile said plainly: "I am well, but my health is now of\r
+no use to anyone."\r
+\r
+After a few words to Pierre about the awful roads from the Polish\r
+frontier, about people he had met in Switzerland who knew Pierre, and\r
+about M. Dessalles, whom he had brought from abroad to be his son's\r
+tutor, Prince Andrew again joined warmly in the conversation about\r
+Speranski which was still going on between the two old men.\r
+\r
+"If there were treason, or proofs of secret relations with Napoleon,\r
+they would have been made public," he said with warmth and haste. "I do\r
+not, and never did, like Speranski personally, but I like justice!"\r
+\r
+Pierre now recognized in his friend a need with which he was only too\r
+familiar, to get excited and to have arguments about extraneous matters\r
+in order to stifle thoughts that were too oppressive and too intimate.\r
+When Prince Meshcherski had left, Prince Andrew took Pierre's arm and\r
+asked him into the room that had been assigned him. A bed had been made\r
+up there, and some open portmanteaus and trunks stood about. Prince\r
+Andrew went to one and took out a small casket, from which he drew a\r
+packet wrapped in paper. He did it all silently and very quickly. He\r
+stood up and coughed. His face was gloomy and his lips compressed.\r
+\r
+"Forgive me for troubling you..."\r
+\r
+Pierre saw that Prince Andrew was going to speak of Natasha, and his\r
+broad face expressed pity and sympathy. This expression irritated Prince\r
+Andrew, and in a determined, ringing, and unpleasant tone he continued:\r
+\r
+"I have received a refusal from Countess Rostova and have heard reports\r
+of your brother-in-law having sought her hand, or something of that\r
+kind. Is that true?"\r
+\r
+"Both true and untrue," Pierre began; but Prince Andrew interrupted him.\r
+\r
+"Here are her letters and her portrait," said he.\r
+\r
+He took the packet from the table and handed it to Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Give this to the countess... if you see her."\r
+\r
+"She is very ill," said Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Then she is here still?" said Prince Andrew. "And Prince Kuragin?" he\r
+added quickly.\r
+\r
+"He left long ago. She has been at death's door."\r
+\r
+"I much regret her illness," said Prince Andrew; and he smiled like his\r
+father, coldly, maliciously, and unpleasantly.\r
+\r
+"So Monsieur Kuragin has not honored Countess Rostova with his hand?"\r
+said Prince Andrew, and he snorted several times.\r
+\r
+"He could not marry, for he was married already," said Pierre.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew laughed disagreeably, again reminding one of his father.\r
+\r
+"And where is your brother-in-law now, if I may ask?" he said.\r
+\r
+"He has gone to Peters... But I don't know," said Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Well, it doesn't matter," said Prince Andrew. "Tell Countess Rostova\r
+that she was and is perfectly free and that I wish her all that is\r
+good."\r
+\r
+Pierre took the packet. Prince Andrew, as if trying to remember whether\r
+he had something more to say, or waiting to see if Pierre would say\r
+anything, looked fixedly at him.\r
+\r
+"I say, do you remember our discussion in Petersburg?" asked Pierre,\r
+"about..."\r
+\r
+"Yes," returned Prince Andrew hastily. "I said that a fallen woman\r
+should be forgiven, but I didn't say I could forgive her. I can't."\r
+\r
+"But can this be compared...?" said Pierre.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew interrupted him and cried sharply: "Yes, ask her hand\r
+again, be magnanimous, and so on?... Yes, that would be very noble, but\r
+I am unable to follow in that gentleman's footsteps. If you wish to be\r
+my friend never speak to me of that... of all that! Well, good-by. So\r
+you'll give her the packet?"\r
+\r
+Pierre left the room and went to the old prince and Princess Mary.\r
+\r
+The old man seemed livelier than usual. Princess Mary was the same as\r
+always, but beneath her sympathy for her brother, Pierre noticed her\r
+satisfaction that the engagement had been broken off. Looking at them\r
+Pierre realized what contempt and animosity they all felt for the\r
+Rostovs, and that it was impossible in their presence even to mention\r
+the name of her who could give up Prince Andrew for anyone else.\r
+\r
+At dinner the talk turned on the war, the approach of which was becoming\r
+evident. Prince Andrew talked incessantly, arguing now with his father,\r
+now with the Swiss tutor Dessalles, and showing an unnatural animation,\r
+the cause of which Pierre so well understood.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXII\r
+\r
+That same evening Pierre went to the Rostovs' to fulfill the commission\r
+entrusted to him. Natasha was in bed, the count at the club, and Pierre,\r
+after giving the letters to Sonya, went to Marya Dmitrievna who was\r
+interested to know how Prince Andrew had taken the news. Ten minutes\r
+later Sonya came to Marya Dmitrievna.\r
+\r
+"Natasha insists on seeing Count Peter Kirilovich," said she.\r
+\r
+"But how? Are we to take him up to her? The room there has not been\r
+tidied up."\r
+\r
+"No, she has dressed and gone into the drawing room," said Sonya.\r
+\r
+Marya Dmitrievna only shrugged her shoulders.\r
+\r
+"When will her mother come? She has worried me to death! Now mind, don't\r
+tell her everything!" said she to Pierre. "One hasn't the heart to scold\r
+her, she is so much to be pitied, so much to be pitied."\r
+\r
+Natasha was standing in the middle of the drawing room, emaciated, with\r
+a pale set face, but not at all shamefaced as Pierre expected to find\r
+her. When he appeared at the door she grew flurried, evidently undecided\r
+whether to go to meet him or to wait till he came up.\r
+\r
+Pierre hastened to her. He thought she would give him her hand as usual;\r
+but she, stepping up to him, stopped, breathing heavily, her arms\r
+hanging lifelessly just in the pose she used to stand in when she went\r
+to the middle of the ballroom to sing, but with quite a different\r
+expression of face.\r
+\r
+"Peter Kirilovich," she began rapidly, "Prince Bolkonski was your\r
+friend--is your friend," she corrected herself. (It seemed to her that\r
+everything that had once been must now be different.) "He told me once\r
+to apply to you..."\r
+\r
+Pierre sniffed as he looked at her, but did not speak. Till then he had\r
+reproached her in his heart and tried to despise her, but he now felt so\r
+sorry for her that there was no room in his soul for reproach.\r
+\r
+"He is here now: tell him... to for... forgive me!" She stopped and\r
+breathed still more quickly, but did not shed tears.\r
+\r
+"Yes... I will tell him," answered Pierre; "but..."\r
+\r
+He did not know what to say.\r
+\r
+Natasha was evidently dismayed at the thought of what he might think she\r
+had meant.\r
+\r
+"No, I know all is over," she said hurriedly. "No, that can never be.\r
+I'm only tormented by the wrong I have done him. Tell him only that I\r
+beg him to forgive, forgive, forgive me for everything...."\r
+\r
+She trembled all over and sat down on a chair.\r
+\r
+A sense of pity he had never before known overflowed Pierre's heart.\r
+\r
+"I will tell him, I will tell him everything once more," said Pierre.\r
+"But... I should like to know one thing...."\r
+\r
+"Know what?" Natasha's eyes asked.\r
+\r
+"I should like to know, did you love..." Pierre did not know how to\r
+refer to Anatole and flushed at the thought of him--"did you love that\r
+bad man?"\r
+\r
+"Don't call him bad!" said Natasha. "But I don't know, don't know at\r
+all...."\r
+\r
+She began to cry and a still greater sense of pity, tenderness, and love\r
+welled up in Pierre. He felt the tears trickle under his spectacles and\r
+hoped they would not be noticed.\r
+\r
+"We won't speak of it any more, my dear," said Pierre, and his gentle,\r
+cordial tone suddenly seemed very strange to Natasha.\r
+\r
+"We won't speak of it, my dear--I'll tell him everything; but one thing\r
+I beg of you, consider me your friend and if you want help, advice, or\r
+simply to open your heart to someone--not now, but when your mind is\r
+clearer think of me!" He took her hand and kissed it. "I shall be happy\r
+if it's in my power..."\r
+\r
+Pierre grew confused.\r
+\r
+"Don't speak to me like that. I am not worth it!" exclaimed Natasha and\r
+turned to leave the room, but Pierre held her hand.\r
+\r
+He knew he had something more to say to her. But when he said it he was\r
+amazed at his own words.\r
+\r
+"Stop, stop! You have your whole life before you," said he to her.\r
+\r
+\r
+"Before me? No! All is over for me," she replied with shame and self-\r
+abasement.\r
+\r
+"All over?" he repeated. "If I were not myself, but the handsomest,\r
+cleverest, and best man in the world, and were free, I would this moment\r
+ask on my knees for your hand and your love!"\r
+\r
+For the first time for many days Natasha wept tears of gratitude and\r
+tenderness, and glancing at Pierre she went out of the room.\r
+\r
+Pierre too when she had gone almost ran into the anteroom, restraining\r
+tears of tenderness and joy that choked him, and without finding the\r
+sleeves of his fur cloak threw it on and got into his sleigh.\r
+\r
+"Where to now, your excellency?" asked the coachman.\r
+\r
+"Where to?" Pierre asked himself. "Where can I go now? Surely not to the\r
+club or to pay calls?" All men seemed so pitiful, so poor, in comparison\r
+with this feeling of tenderness and love he experienced: in comparison\r
+with that softened, grateful, last look she had given him through her\r
+tears.\r
+\r
+"Home!" said Pierre, and despite twenty-two degrees of frost Fahrenheit\r
+he threw open the bearskin cloak from his broad chest and inhaled the\r
+air with joy.\r
+\r
+It was clear and frosty. Above the dirty, ill-lit streets, above the\r
+black roofs, stretched the dark starry sky. Only looking up at the sky\r
+did Pierre cease to feel how sordid and humiliating were all mundane\r
+things compared with the heights to which his soul had just been raised.\r
+At the entrance to the Arbat Square an immense expanse of dark starry\r
+sky presented itself to his eyes. Almost in the center of it, above the\r
+Prechistenka Boulevard, surrounded and sprinkled on all sides by stars\r
+but distinguished from them all by its nearness to the earth, its white\r
+light, and its long uplifted tail, shone the enormous and brilliant\r
+comet of 1812--the comet which was said to portend all kinds of woes and\r
+the end of the world. In Pierre, however, that comet with its long\r
+luminous tail aroused no feeling of fear. On the contrary he gazed\r
+joyfully, his eyes moist with tears, at this bright comet which, having\r
+traveled in its orbit with inconceivable velocity through immeasurable\r
+space, seemed suddenly--like an arrow piercing the earth--to remain\r
+fixed in a chosen spot, vigorously holding its tail erect, shining and\r
+displaying its white light amid countless other scintillating stars. It\r
+seemed to Pierre that this comet fully responded to what was passing in\r
+his own softened and uplifted soul, now blossoming into a new life.\r
+\r
+BOOK NINE: 1812\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+From the close of the year 1811 intensified arming and concentrating of\r
+the forces of Western Europe began, and in 1812 these forces--millions\r
+of men, reckoning those transporting and feeding the army--moved from\r
+the west eastwards to the Russian frontier, toward which since 1811\r
+Russian forces had been similarly drawn. On the twelfth of June, 1812,\r
+the forces of Western Europe crossed the Russian frontier and war began,\r
+that is, an event took place opposed to human reason and to human\r
+nature. Millions of men perpetrated against one another such innumerable\r
+crimes, frauds, treacheries, thefts, forgeries, issues of false money,\r
+burglaries, incendiarisms, and murders as in whole centuries are not\r
+recorded in the annals of all the law courts of the world, but which\r
+those who committed them did not at the time regard as being crimes.\r
+\r
+What produced this extraordinary occurrence? What were its causes? The\r
+historians tell us with naive assurance that its causes were the wrongs\r
+inflicted on the Duke of Oldenburg, the nonobservance of the Continental\r
+System, the ambition of Napoleon, the firmness of Alexander, the\r
+mistakes of the diplomatists, and so on.\r
+\r
+Consequently, it would only have been necessary for Metternich,\r
+Rumyantsev, or Talleyrand, between a levee and an evening party, to have\r
+taken proper pains and written a more adroit note, or for Napoleon to\r
+have written to Alexander: "My respected Brother, I consent to restore\r
+the duchy to the Duke of Oldenburg"--and there would have been no war.\r
+\r
+We can understand that the matter seemed like that to contemporaries. It\r
+naturally seemed to Napoleon that the war was caused by England's\r
+intrigues (as in fact he said on the island of St. Helena). It naturally\r
+seemed to members of the English Parliament that the cause of the war\r
+was Napoleon's ambition; to the Duke of Oldenburg, that the cause of the\r
+war was the violence done to him; to businessmen that the cause of the\r
+war was the Continental System which was ruining Europe; to the generals\r
+and old soldiers that the chief reason for the war was the necessity of\r
+giving them employment; to the legitimists of that day that it was the\r
+need of re-establishing les bons principes, and to the diplomatists of\r
+that time that it all resulted from the fact that the alliance between\r
+Russia and Austria in 1809 had not been sufficiently well concealed from\r
+Napoleon, and from the awkward wording of Memorandum No. 178. It is\r
+natural that these and a countless and infinite quantity of other\r
+reasons, the number depending on the endless diversity of points of\r
+view, presented themselves to the men of that day; but to us, to\r
+posterity who view the thing that happened in all its magnitude and\r
+perceive its plain and terrible meaning, these causes seem insufficient.\r
+To us it is incomprehensible that millions of Christian men killed and\r
+tortured each other either because Napoleon was ambitious or Alexander\r
+was firm, or because England's policy was astute or the Duke of\r
+Oldenburg wronged. We cannot grasp what connection such circumstances\r
+have with the actual fact of slaughter and violence: why because the\r
+Duke was wronged, thousands of men from the other side of Europe killed\r
+and ruined the people of Smolensk and Moscow and were killed by them.\r
+\r
+To us, their descendants, who are not historians and are not carried\r
+away by the process of research and can therefore regard the event with\r
+unclouded common sense, an incalculable number of causes present\r
+themselves. The deeper we delve in search of these causes the more of\r
+them we find; and each separate cause or whole series of causes appears\r
+to us equally valid in itself and equally false by its insignificance\r
+compared to the magnitude of the events, and by its impotence--apart\r
+from the cooperation of all the other coincident causes--to occasion the\r
+event. To us, the wish or objection of this or that French corporal to\r
+serve a second term appears as much a cause as Napoleon's refusal to\r
+withdraw his troops beyond the Vistula and to restore the duchy of\r
+Oldenburg; for had he not wished to serve, and had a second, a third,\r
+and a thousandth corporal and private also refused, there would have\r
+been so many less men in Napoleon's army and the war could not have\r
+occurred.\r
+\r
+Had Napoleon not taken offense at the demand that he should withdraw\r
+beyond the Vistula, and not ordered his troops to advance, there would\r
+have been no war; but had all his sergeants objected to serving a second\r
+term then also there could have been no war. Nor could there have been a\r
+war had there been no English intrigues and no Duke of Oldenburg, and\r
+had Alexander not felt insulted, and had there not been an autocratic\r
+government in Russia, or a Revolution in France and a subsequent\r
+dictatorship and Empire, or all the things that produced the French\r
+Revolution, and so on. Without each of these causes nothing could have\r
+happened. So all these causes--myriads of causes--coincided to bring it\r
+about. And so there was no one cause for that occurrence, but it had to\r
+occur because it had to. Millions of men, renouncing their human\r
+feelings and reason, had to go from west to east to slay their fellows,\r
+just as some centuries previously hordes of men had come from the east\r
+to the west, slaying their fellows.\r
+\r
+The actions of Napoleon and Alexander, on whose words the event seemed\r
+to hang, were as little voluntary as the actions of any soldier who was\r
+drawn into the campaign by lot or by conscription. This could not be\r
+otherwise, for in order that the will of Napoleon and Alexander (on whom\r
+the event seemed to depend) should be carried out, the concurrence of\r
+innumerable circumstances was needed without any one of which the event\r
+could not have taken place. It was necessary that millions of men in\r
+whose hands lay the real power--the soldiers who fired, or transported\r
+provisions and guns--should consent to carry out the will of these weak\r
+individuals, and should have been induced to do so by an infinite number\r
+of diverse and complex causes.\r
+\r
+We are forced to fall back on fatalism as an explanation of irrational\r
+events (that is to say, events the reasonableness of which we do not\r
+understand). The more we try to explain such events in history\r
+reasonably, the more unreasonable and incomprehensible do they become to\r
+us.\r
+\r
+Each man lives for himself, using his freedom to attain his personal\r
+aims, and feels with his whole being that he can now do or abstain from\r
+doing this or that action; but as soon as he has done it, that action\r
+performed at a certain moment in time becomes irrevocable and belongs to\r
+history, in which it has not a free but a predestined significance.\r
+\r
+There are two sides to the life of every man, his individual life, which\r
+is the more free the more abstract its interests, and his elemental hive\r
+life in which he inevitably obeys laws laid down for him.\r
+\r
+Man lives consciously for himself, but is an unconscious instrument in\r
+the attainment of the historic, universal, aims of humanity. A deed done\r
+is irrevocable, and its result coinciding in time with the actions of\r
+millions of other men assumes an historic significance. The higher a man\r
+stands on the social ladder, the more people he is connected with and\r
+the more power he has over others, the more evident is the\r
+predestination and inevitability of his every action.\r
+\r
+"The king's heart is in the hands of the Lord."\r
+\r
+A king is history's slave.\r
+\r
+History, that is, the unconscious, general, hive life of mankind, uses\r
+every moment of the life of kings as a tool for its own purposes.\r
+\r
+Though Napoleon at that time, in 1812, was more convinced than ever that\r
+it depended on him, verser (ou ne pas verser) le sang de ses peuples *--\r
+as Alexander expressed it in the last letter he wrote him--he had never\r
+been so much in the grip of inevitable laws, which compelled him, while\r
+thinking that he was acting on his own volition, to perform for the hive\r
+life--that is to say, for history--whatever had to be performed.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "To shed (or not to shed) the blood of his peoples."\r
+\r
+The people of the west moved eastwards to slay their fellow men, and by\r
+the law of coincidence thousands of minute causes fitted in and co-\r
+ordinated to produce that movement and war: reproaches for the\r
+nonobservance of the Continental System, the Duke of Oldenburg's wrongs,\r
+the movement of troops into Prussia--undertaken (as it seemed to\r
+Napoleon) only for the purpose of securing an armed peace, the French\r
+Emperor's love and habit of war coinciding with his people's\r
+inclinations, allurement by the grandeur of the preparations, and the\r
+expenditure on those preparations and the need of obtaining advantages\r
+to compensate for that expenditure, the intoxicating honors he received\r
+in Dresden, the diplomatic negotiations which, in the opinion of\r
+contemporaries, were carried on with a sincere desire to attain peace,\r
+but which only wounded the self-love of both sides, and millions of\r
+other causes that adapted themselves to the event that was happening or\r
+coincided with it.\r
+\r
+When an apple has ripened and falls, why does it fall? Because of its\r
+attraction to the earth, because its stalk withers, because it is dried\r
+by the sun, because it grows heavier, because the wind shakes it, or\r
+because the boy standing below wants to eat it?\r
+\r
+Nothing is the cause. All this is only the coincidence of conditions in\r
+which all vital organic and elemental events occur. And the botanist who\r
+finds that the apple falls because the cellular tissue decays and so\r
+forth is equally right with the child who stands under the tree and says\r
+the apple fell because he wanted to eat it and prayed for it. Equally\r
+right or wrong is he who says that Napoleon went to Moscow because he\r
+wanted to, and perished because Alexander desired his destruction, and\r
+he who says that an undermined hill weighing a million tons fell because\r
+the last navvy struck it for the last time with his mattock. In historic\r
+events the so-called great men are labels giving names to events, and\r
+like labels they have but the smallest connection with the event itself.\r
+\r
+Every act of theirs, which appears to them an act of their own will, is\r
+in an historical sense involuntary and is related to the whole course of\r
+history and predestined from eternity.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+On the twenty-ninth of May Napoleon left Dresden, where he had spent\r
+three weeks surrounded by a court that included princes, dukes, kings,\r
+and even an emperor. Before leaving, Napoleon showed favor to the\r
+emperor, kings, and princes who had deserved it, reprimanded the kings\r
+and princes with whom he was dissatisfied, presented pearls and diamonds\r
+of his own--that is, which he had taken from other kings--to the Empress\r
+of Austria, and having, as his historian tells us, tenderly embraced the\r
+Empress Marie Louise--who regarded him as her husband, though he had\r
+left another wife in Paris--left her grieved by the parting which she\r
+seemed hardly able to bear. Though the diplomatists still firmly\r
+believed in the possibility of peace and worked zealously to that end,\r
+and though the Emperor Napoleon himself wrote a letter to Alexander,\r
+calling him Monsieur mon frere, and sincerely assured him that he did\r
+not want war and would always love and honor him--yet he set off to join\r
+his army, and at every station gave fresh orders to accelerate the\r
+movement of his troops from west to east. He went in a traveling coach\r
+with six horses, surrounded by pages, aides-de-camp, and an escort,\r
+along the road to Posen, Thorn, Danzig, and Konigsberg. At each of these\r
+towns thousands of people met him with excitement and enthusiasm.\r
+\r
+The army was moving from west to east, and relays of six horses carried\r
+him in the same direction. On the tenth of June, * coming up with the\r
+army, he spent the night in apartments prepared for him on the estate of\r
+a Polish count in the Vilkavisski forest.\r
+\r
+\r
+* Old style.\r
+\r
+Next day, overtaking the army, he went in a carriage to the Niemen, and,\r
+changing into a Polish uniform, he drove to the riverbank in order to\r
+select a place for the crossing.\r
+\r
+Seeing, on the other side, some Cossacks (les Cosaques) and the wide-\r
+spreading steppes in the midst of which lay the holy city of Moscow\r
+(Moscou, la ville sainte), the capital of a realm such as the Scythia\r
+into which Alexander the Great had marched--Napoleon unexpectedly, and\r
+contrary alike to strategic and diplomatic considerations, ordered an\r
+advance, and the next day his army began to cross the Niemen.\r
+\r
+Early in the morning of the twelfth of June he came out of his tent,\r
+which was pitched that day on the steep left bank of the Niemen, and\r
+looked through a spyglass at the streams of his troops pouring out of\r
+the Vilkavisski forest and flowing over the three bridges thrown across\r
+the river. The troops, knowing of the Emperor's presence, were on the\r
+lookout for him, and when they caught sight of a figure in an overcoat\r
+and a cocked hat standing apart from his suite in front of his tent on\r
+the hill, they threw up their caps and shouted: "Vive l'Empereur!" and\r
+one after another poured in a ceaseless stream out of the vast forest\r
+that had concealed them and, separating, flowed on and on by the three\r
+bridges to the other side.\r
+\r
+"Now we'll go into action. Oh, when he takes it in hand himself, things\r
+get hot... by heaven!... There he is!... Vive l'Empereur! So these are\r
+the steppes of Asia! It's a nasty country all the same. Au revoir,\r
+Beauche; I'll keep the best palace in Moscow for you! Au revoir. Good\r
+luck!... Did you see the Emperor? Vive l'Empereur!... preur!--If they\r
+make me Governor of India, Gerard, I'll make you Minister of Kashmir--\r
+that's settled. Vive l'Empereur! Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! The Cossacks--\r
+those rascals--see how they run! Vive l'Empereur! There he is, do you\r
+see him? I've seen him twice, as I see you now. The little corporal... I\r
+saw him give the cross to one of the veterans.... Vive l'Empereur!" came\r
+the voices of men, old and young, of most diverse characters and social\r
+positions. On the faces of all was one common expression of joy at the\r
+commencement of the long-expected campaign and of rapture and devotion\r
+to the man in the gray coat who was standing on the hill.\r
+\r
+On the thirteenth of June a rather small, thoroughbred Arab horse was\r
+brought to Napoleon. He mounted it and rode at a gallop to one of the\r
+bridges over the Niemen, deafened continually by incessant and rapturous\r
+acclamations which he evidently endured only because it was impossible\r
+to forbid the soldiers to express their love of him by such shouting,\r
+but the shouting which accompanied him everywhere disturbed him and\r
+distracted him from the military cares that had occupied him from the\r
+time he joined the army. He rode across one of the swaying pontoon\r
+bridges to the farther side, turned sharply to the left, and galloped in\r
+the direction of Kovno, preceded by enraptured, mounted chasseurs of the\r
+Guard who, breathless with delight, galloped ahead to clear a path for\r
+him through the troops. On reaching the broad river Viliya, he stopped\r
+near a regiment of Polish uhlans stationed by the river.\r
+\r
+"Vivat!" shouted the Poles, ecstatically, breaking their ranks and\r
+pressing against one another to see him.\r
+\r
+Napoleon looked up and down the river, dismounted, and sat down on a log\r
+that lay on the bank. At a mute sign from him, a telescope was handed\r
+him which he rested on the back of a happy page who had run up to him,\r
+and he gazed at the opposite bank. Then he became absorbed in a map laid\r
+out on the logs. Without lifting his head he said something, and two of\r
+his aides-de-camp galloped off to the Polish uhlans.\r
+\r
+"What? What did he say?" was heard in the ranks of the Polish uhlans\r
+when one of the aides-de-camp rode up to them.\r
+\r
+The order was to find a ford and to cross the river. The colonel of the\r
+Polish uhlans, a handsome old man, flushed and, fumbling in his speech\r
+from excitement, asked the aide-de-camp whether he would be permitted to\r
+swim the river with his uhlans instead of seeking a ford. In evident\r
+fear of refusal, like a boy asking for permission to get on a horse, he\r
+begged to be allowed to swim across the river before the Emperor's eyes.\r
+The aide-de-camp replied that probably the Emperor would not be\r
+displeased at this excess of zeal.\r
+\r
+As soon as the aide-de-camp had said this, the old mustached officer,\r
+with happy face and sparkling eyes, raised his saber, shouted "Vivat!"\r
+and, commanding the uhlans to follow him, spurred his horse and galloped\r
+into the river. He gave an angry thrust to his horse, which had grown\r
+restive under him, and plunged into the water, heading for the deepest\r
+part where the current was swift. Hundreds of uhlans galloped in after\r
+him. It was cold and uncanny in the rapid current in the middle of the\r
+stream, and the uhlans caught hold of one another as they fell off their\r
+horses. Some of the horses were drowned and some of the men; the others\r
+tried to swim on, some in the saddle and some clinging to their horses'\r
+manes. They tried to make their way forward to the opposite bank and,\r
+though there was a ford one third of a mile away, were proud that they\r
+were swimming and drowning in this river under the eyes of the man who\r
+sat on the log and was not even looking at what they were doing. When\r
+the aide-de-camp, having returned and choosing an opportune moment,\r
+ventured to draw the Emperor's attention to the devotion of the Poles to\r
+his person, the little man in the gray overcoat got up and, having\r
+summoned Berthier, began pacing up and down the bank with him, giving\r
+him instructions and occasionally glancing disapprovingly at the\r
+drowning uhlans who distracted his attention.\r
+\r
+For him it was no new conviction that his presence in any part of the\r
+world, from Africa to the steppes of Muscovy alike, was enough to\r
+dumfound people and impel them to insane self-oblivion. He called for\r
+his horse and rode to his quarters.\r
+\r
+Some forty uhlans were drowned in the river, though boats were sent to\r
+their assistance. The majority struggled back to the bank from which\r
+they had started. The colonel and some of his men got across and with\r
+difficulty clambered out on the further bank. And as soon as they had\r
+got out, in their soaked and streaming clothes, they shouted "Vivat!"\r
+and looked ecstatically at the spot where Napoleon had been but where he\r
+no longer was and at that moment considered themselves happy.\r
+\r
+That evening, between issuing one order that the forged Russian paper\r
+money prepared for use in Russia should be delivered as quickly as\r
+possible and another that a Saxon should be shot, on whom a letter\r
+containing information about the orders to the French army had been\r
+found, Napoleon also gave instructions that the Polish colonel who had\r
+needlessly plunged into the river should be enrolled in the Legion\r
+d'honneur of which Napoleon was himself the head.\r
+\r
+Quos vult perdere dementat. *\r
+\r
+\r
+* Those whom (God) wishes to destroy he drives mad.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+The Emperor of Russia had, meanwhile, been in Vilna for more than a\r
+month, reviewing troops and holding maneuvers. Nothing was ready for the\r
+war that everyone expected and to prepare for which the Emperor had come\r
+from Petersburg. There was no general plan of action. The vacillation\r
+between the various plans that were proposed had even increased after\r
+the Emperor had been at headquarters for a month. Each of the three\r
+armies had its own commander-in-chief, but there was no supreme\r
+commander of all the forces, and the Emperor did not assume that\r
+responsibility himself.\r
+\r
+The longer the Emperor remained in Vilna the less did everybody--tired\r
+of waiting--prepare for the war. All the efforts of those who surrounded\r
+the sovereign seemed directed merely to making him spend his time\r
+pleasantly and forget that war was impending.\r
+\r
+In June, after many balls and fetes given by the Polish magnates, by the\r
+courtiers, and by the Emperor himself, it occurred to one of the Polish\r
+aides-de-camp in attendance that a dinner and ball should be given for\r
+the Emperor by his aides-de-camp. This idea was eagerly received. The\r
+Emperor gave his consent. The aides-de-camp collected money by\r
+subscription. The lady who was thought to be most pleasing to the\r
+Emperor was invited to act as hostess. Count Bennigsen, being a\r
+landowner in the Vilna province, offered his country house for the fete,\r
+and the thirteenth of June was fixed for a ball, dinner, regatta, and\r
+fireworks at Zakret, Count Bennigsen's country seat.\r
+\r
+The very day that Napoleon issued the order to cross the Niemen, and his\r
+vanguard, driving off the Cossacks, crossed the Russian frontier,\r
+Alexander spent the evening at the entertainment given by his aides-de-\r
+camp at Bennigsen's country house.\r
+\r
+It was a gay and brilliant fete. Connoisseurs of such matters declared\r
+that rarely had so many beautiful women been assembled in one place.\r
+Countess Bezukhova was present among other Russian ladies who had\r
+followed the sovereign from Petersburg to Vilna and eclipsed the refined\r
+Polish ladies by her massive, so-called Russian type of beauty. The\r
+Emperor noticed her and honored her with a dance.\r
+\r
+Boris Drubetskoy, having left his wife in Moscow and being for the\r
+present en garcon (as he phrased it), was also there and, though not an\r
+aide-de-camp, had subscribed a large sum toward the expenses. Boris was\r
+now a rich man who had risen to high honors and no longer sought\r
+patronage but stood on an equal footing with the highest of those of his\r
+own age. He was meeting Helene in Vilna after not having seen her for a\r
+long time and did not recall the past, but as Helene was enjoying the\r
+favors of a very important personage and Boris had only recently\r
+married, they met as good friends of long standing.\r
+\r
+At midnight dancing was still going on. Helene, not having a suitable\r
+partner, herself offered to dance the mazurka with Boris. They were the\r
+third couple. Boris, coolly looking at Helene's dazzling bare shoulders\r
+which emerged from a dark, gold-embroidered, gauze gown, talked to her\r
+of old acquaintances and at the same time, unaware of it himself and\r
+unnoticed by others, never for an instant ceased to observe the Emperor\r
+who was in the same room. The Emperor was not dancing, he stood in the\r
+doorway, stopping now one pair and now another with gracious words which\r
+he alone knew how to utter.\r
+\r
+As the mazurka began, Boris saw that Adjutant General Balashev, one of\r
+those in closest attendance on the Emperor, went up to him and contrary\r
+to court etiquette stood near him while he was talking to a Polish lady.\r
+Having finished speaking to her, the Emperor looked inquiringly at\r
+Balashev and, evidently understanding that he only acted thus because\r
+there were important reasons for so doing, nodded slightly to the lady\r
+and turned to him. Hardly had Balashev begun to speak before a look of\r
+amazement appeared on the Emperor's face. He took Balashev by the arm\r
+and crossed the room with him, unconsciously clearing a path seven yards\r
+wide as the people on both sides made way for him. Boris noticed\r
+Arakcheev's excited face when the sovereign went out with Balashev.\r
+Arakcheev looked at the Emperor from under his brow and, sniffing with\r
+his red nose, stepped forward from the crowd as if expecting the Emperor\r
+to address him. (Boris understood that Arakcheev envied Balashev and was\r
+displeased that evidently important news had reached the Emperor\r
+otherwise than through himself.)\r
+\r
+But the Emperor and Balashev passed out into the illuminated garden\r
+without noticing Arakcheev who, holding his sword and glancing\r
+wrathfully around, followed some twenty paces behind them.\r
+\r
+All the time Boris was going through the figures of the mazurka, he was\r
+worried by the question of what news Balashev had brought and how he\r
+could find it out before others. In the figure in which he had to choose\r
+two ladies, he whispered to Helene that he meant to choose Countess\r
+Potocka who, he thought, had gone out onto the veranda, and glided over\r
+the parquet to the door opening into the garden, where, seeing Balashev\r
+and the Emperor returning to the veranda, he stood still. They were\r
+moving toward the door. Boris, fluttering as if he had not had time to\r
+withdraw, respectfully pressed close to the doorpost with bowed head.\r
+\r
+The Emperor, with the agitation of one who has been personally\r
+affronted, was finishing with these words:\r
+\r
+"To enter Russia without declaring war! I will not make peace as long as\r
+a single armed enemy remains in my country!" It seemed to Boris that it\r
+gave the Emperor pleasure to utter these words. He was satisfied with\r
+the form in which he had expressed his thoughts, but displeased that\r
+Boris had overheard it.\r
+\r
+"Let no one know of it!" the Emperor added with a frown.\r
+\r
+Boris understood that this was meant for him and, closing his eyes,\r
+slightly bowed his head. The Emperor re-entered the ballroom and\r
+remained there about another half-hour.\r
+\r
+Boris was thus the first to learn the news that the French army had\r
+crossed the Niemen and, thanks to this, was able to show certain\r
+important personages that much that was concealed from others was\r
+usually known to him, and by this means he rose higher in their\r
+estimation.\r
+\r
+The unexpected news of the French having crossed the Niemen was\r
+particularly startling after a month of unfulfilled expectations, and at\r
+a ball. On first receiving the news, under the influence of indignation\r
+and resentment the Emperor had found a phrase that pleased him, fully\r
+expressed his feelings, and has since become famous. On returning home\r
+at two o'clock that night he sent for his secretary, Shishkov, and told\r
+him to write an order to the troops and a rescript to Field Marshal\r
+Prince Saltykov, in which he insisted on the words being inserted that\r
+he would not make peace so long as a single armed Frenchman remained on\r
+Russian soil.\r
+\r
+Next day the following letter was sent to Napoleon:\r
+\r
+Monsieur mon frere,\r
+\r
+Yesterday I learned that, despite the loyalty with which I have kept my\r
+engagements with Your Majesty, your troops have crossed the Russian\r
+frontier, and I have this moment received from Petersburg a note, in\r
+which Count Lauriston informs me, as a reason for this aggression, that\r
+Your Majesty has considered yourself to be in a state of war with me\r
+from the time Prince Kuragin asked for his passports. The reasons on\r
+which the Duc de Bassano based his refusal to deliver them to him would\r
+never have led me to suppose that that could serve as a pretext for\r
+aggression. In fact, the ambassador, as he himself has declared, was\r
+never authorized to make that demand, and as soon as I was informed of\r
+it I let him know how much I disapproved of it and ordered him to remain\r
+at his post. If Your Majesty does not intend to shed the blood of our\r
+peoples for such a misunderstanding, and consents to withdraw your\r
+troops from Russian territory, I will regard what has passed as not\r
+having occurred and an understanding between us will be possible. In the\r
+contrary case, Your Majesty, I shall see myself forced to repel an\r
+attack that nothing on my part has provoked. It still depends on Your\r
+Majesty to preserve humanity from the calamity of another war. I am,\r
+etc.,\r
+\r
+(signed) Alexander.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+At two in the morning of the fourteenth of June, the Emperor, having\r
+sent for Balashev and read him his letter to Napoleon, ordered him to\r
+take it and hand it personally to the French Emperor. When dispatching\r
+Balashev, the Emperor repeated to him the words that he would not make\r
+peace so long as a single armed enemy remained on Russian soil and told\r
+him to transmit those words to Napoleon. Alexander did not insert them\r
+in his letter to Napoleon, because with his characteristic tact he felt\r
+it would be injudicious to use them at a moment when a last attempt at\r
+reconciliation was being made, but he definitely instructed Balashev to\r
+repeat them personally to Napoleon.\r
+\r
+Having set off in the small hours of the fourteenth, accompanied by a\r
+bugler and two Cossacks, Balashev reached the French outposts at the\r
+village of Rykonty, on the Russian side of the Niemen, by dawn. There he\r
+was stopped by French cavalry sentinels.\r
+\r
+A French noncommissioned officer of hussars, in crimson uniform and a\r
+shaggy cap, shouted to the approaching Balashev to halt. Balashev did\r
+not do so at once, but continued to advance along the road at a walking\r
+pace.\r
+\r
+The noncommissioned officer frowned and, muttering words of abuse,\r
+advanced his horse's chest against Balashev, put his hand to his saber,\r
+and shouted rudely at the Russian general, asking: was he deaf that he\r
+did not do as he was told? Balashev mentioned who he was. The\r
+noncommissioned officer began talking with his comrades about regimental\r
+matters without looking at the Russian general.\r
+\r
+After living at the seat of the highest authority and power, after\r
+conversing with the Emperor less than three hours before, and in general\r
+being accustomed to the respect due to his rank in the service, Balashev\r
+found it very strange here on Russian soil to encounter this hostile,\r
+and still more this disrespectful, application of brute force to\r
+himself.\r
+\r
+The sun was only just appearing from behind the clouds, the air was\r
+fresh and dewy. A herd of cattle was being driven along the road from\r
+the village, and over the fields the larks rose trilling, one after\r
+another, like bubbles rising in water.\r
+\r
+Balashev looked around him, awaiting the arrival of an officer from the\r
+village. The Russian Cossacks and bugler and the French hussars looked\r
+silently at one another from time to time.\r
+\r
+A French colonel of hussars, who had evidently just left his bed, came\r
+riding from the village on a handsome sleek gray horse, accompanied by\r
+two hussars. The officer, the soldiers, and their horses all looked\r
+smart and well kept.\r
+\r
+It was that first period of a campaign when troops are still in full\r
+trim, almost like that of peacetime maneuvers, but with a shade of\r
+martial swagger in their clothes, and a touch of the gaiety and spirit\r
+of enterprise which always accompany the opening of a campaign.\r
+\r
+The French colonel with difficulty repressed a yawn, but was polite and\r
+evidently understood Balashev's importance. He led him past his soldiers\r
+and behind the outposts and told him that his wish to be presented to\r
+the Emperor would most likely be satisfied immediately, as the Emperor's\r
+quarters were, he believed, not far off.\r
+\r
+They rode through the village of Rykonty, past tethered French hussar\r
+horses, past sentinels and men who saluted their colonel and stared with\r
+curiosity at a Russian uniform, and came out at the other end of the\r
+village. The colonel said that the commander of the division was a mile\r
+and a quarter away and would receive Balashev and conduct him to his\r
+destination.\r
+\r
+The sun had by now risen and shone gaily on the bright verdure.\r
+\r
+They had hardly ridden up a hill, past a tavern, before they saw a group\r
+of horsemen coming toward them. In front of the group, on a black horse\r
+with trappings that glittered in the sun, rode a tall man with plumes in\r
+his hat and black hair curling down to his shoulders. He wore a red\r
+mantle, and stretched his long legs forward in French fashion. This man\r
+rode toward Balashev at a gallop, his plumes flowing and his gems and\r
+gold lace glittering in the bright June sunshine.\r
+\r
+Balashev was only two horses' length from the equestrian with the\r
+bracelets, plumes, necklaces, and gold embroidery, who was galloping\r
+toward him with a theatrically solemn countenance, when Julner, the\r
+French colonel, whispered respectfully: "The King of Naples!" It was, in\r
+fact, Murat, now called "King of Naples." Though it was quite\r
+incomprehensible why he should be King of Naples, he was called so, and\r
+was himself convinced that he was so, and therefore assumed a more\r
+solemn and important air than formerly. He was so sure that he really\r
+was the King of Naples that when, on the eve of his departure from that\r
+city, while walking through the streets with his wife, some Italians\r
+called out to him: "Viva il re!" * he turned to his wife with a pensive\r
+smile and said: "Poor fellows, they don't know that I am leaving them\r
+tomorrow!"\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Long live the king."\r
+\r
+But though he firmly believed himself to be King of Naples and pitied\r
+the grief felt by the subjects he was abandoning, latterly, after he had\r
+been ordered to return to military service--and especially since his\r
+last interview with Napoleon in Danzig, when his august brother-in-law\r
+had told him: "I made you King that you should reign in my way, but not\r
+in yours!"--he had cheerfully taken up his familiar business, and--like\r
+a well-fed but not overfat horse that feels himself in harness and grows\r
+skittish between the shafts--he dressed up in clothes as variegated and\r
+expensive as possible, and gaily and contentedly galloped along the\r
+roads of Poland, without himself knowing why or whither.\r
+\r
+On seeing the Russian general he threw back his head, with its long hair\r
+curling to his shoulders, in a majestically royal manner, and looked\r
+inquiringly at the French colonel. The colonel respectfully informed His\r
+Majesty of Balashev's mission, whose name he could not pronounce.\r
+\r
+"De Bal-macheve!" said the King (overcoming by his assurance the\r
+difficulty that had presented itself to the colonel). "Charmed to make\r
+your acquaintance, General!" he added, with a gesture of kingly\r
+condescension.\r
+\r
+As soon as the King began to speak loud and fast his royal dignity\r
+instantly forsook him, and without noticing it he passed into his\r
+natural tone of good-natured familiarity. He laid his hand on the\r
+withers of Balashev's horse and said:\r
+\r
+"Well, General, it all looks like war," as if regretting a circumstance\r
+of which he was unable to judge.\r
+\r
+"Your Majesty," replied Balashev, "my master, the Emperor, does not\r
+desire war and as Your Majesty sees..." said Balashev, using the words\r
+Your Majesty at every opportunity, with the affectation unavoidable in\r
+frequently addressing one to whom the title was still a novelty.\r
+\r
+Murat's face beamed with stupid satisfaction as he listened to "Monsieur\r
+de Bal-macheve." But royaute oblige! * and he felt it incumbent on him,\r
+as a king and an ally, to confer on state affairs with Alexander's\r
+envoy. He dismounted, took Balashev's arm, and moving a few steps away\r
+from his suite, which waited respectfully, began to pace up and down\r
+with him, trying to speak significantly. He referred to the fact that\r
+the Emperor Napoleon had resented the demand that he should withdraw his\r
+troops from Prussia, especially when that demand became generally known\r
+and the dignity of France was thereby offended.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Royalty has its obligations."\r
+\r
+Balashev replied that there was "nothing offensive in the demand,\r
+because..." but Murat interrupted him.\r
+\r
+"Then you don't consider the Emperor Alexander the aggressor?" he asked\r
+unexpectedly, with a kindly and foolish smile.\r
+\r
+Balashev told him why he considered Napoleon to be the originator of the\r
+war.\r
+\r
+"Oh, my dear general!" Murat again interrupted him, "with all my heart I\r
+wish the Emperors may arrange the affair between them, and that the war\r
+begun by no wish of mine may finish as quickly as possible!" said he, in\r
+the tone of a servant who wants to remain good friends with another\r
+despite a quarrel between their masters.\r
+\r
+And he went on to inquiries about the Grand Duke and the state of his\r
+health, and to reminiscences of the gay and amusing times he had spent\r
+with him in Naples. Then suddenly, as if remembering his royal dignity,\r
+Murat solemnly drew himself up, assumed the pose in which he had stood\r
+at his coronation, and, waving his right arm, said:\r
+\r
+"I won't detain you longer, General. I wish success to your mission,"\r
+and with his embroidered red mantle, his flowing feathers, and his\r
+glittering ornaments, he rejoined his suite who were respectfully\r
+awaiting him.\r
+\r
+Balashev rode on, supposing from Murat's words that he would very soon\r
+be brought before Napoleon himself. But instead of that, at the next\r
+village the sentinels of Davout's infantry corps detained him as the\r
+pickets of the vanguard had done, and an adjutant of the corps\r
+commander, who was fetched, conducted him into the village to Marshal\r
+Davout.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+Davout was to Napoleon what Arakcheev was to Alexander--though not a\r
+coward like Arakcheev, he was as precise, as cruel, and as unable to\r
+express his devotion to his monarch except by cruelty.\r
+\r
+In the organism of states such men are necessary, as wolves are\r
+necessary in the organism of nature, and they always exist, always\r
+appear and hold their own, however incongruous their presence and their\r
+proximity to the head of the government may be. This inevitability alone\r
+can explain how the cruel Arakcheev, who tore out a grenadier's mustache\r
+with his own hands, whose weak nerves rendered him unable to face\r
+danger, and who was neither an educated man nor a courtier, was able to\r
+maintain his powerful position with Alexander, whose own character was\r
+chivalrous, noble, and gentle.\r
+\r
+Balashev found Davout seated on a barrel in the shed of a peasant's hut,\r
+writing--he was auditing accounts. Better quarters could have been found\r
+him, but Marshal Davout was one of those men who purposely put\r
+themselves in most depressing conditions to have a justification for\r
+being gloomy. For the same reason they are always hard at work and in a\r
+hurry. "How can I think of the bright side of life when, as you see, I\r
+am sitting on a barrel and working in a dirty shed?" the expression of\r
+his face seemed to say. The chief pleasure and necessity of such men,\r
+when they encounter anyone who shows animation, is to flaunt their own\r
+dreary, persistent activity. Davout allowed himself that pleasure when\r
+Balashev was brought in. He became still more absorbed in his task when\r
+the Russian general entered, and after glancing over his spectacles at\r
+Balashev's face, which was animated by the beauty of the morning and by\r
+his talk with Murat, he did not rise or even stir, but scowled still\r
+more and sneered malevolently.\r
+\r
+When he noticed in Balashev's face the disagreeable impression this\r
+reception produced, Davout raised his head and coldly asked what he\r
+wanted.\r
+\r
+Thinking he could have been received in such a manner only because\r
+Davout did not know that he was adjutant general to the Emperor\r
+Alexander and even his envoy to Napoleon, Balashev hastened to inform\r
+him of his rank and mission. Contrary to his expectation, Davout, after\r
+hearing him, became still surlier and ruder.\r
+\r
+"Where is your dispatch?" he inquired. "Give it to me. I will send it to\r
+the Emperor."\r
+\r
+Balashev replied that he had been ordered to hand it personally to the\r
+Emperor.\r
+\r
+"Your Emperor's orders are obeyed in your army, but here," said Davout,\r
+"you must do as you're told."\r
+\r
+And, as if to make the Russian general still more conscious of his\r
+dependence on brute force, Davout sent an adjutant to call the officer\r
+on duty.\r
+\r
+Balashev took out the packet containing the Emperor's letter and laid it\r
+on the table (made of a door with its hinges still hanging on it, laid\r
+across two barrels). Davout took the packet and read the inscription.\r
+\r
+"You are perfectly at liberty to treat me with respect or not,"\r
+protested Balashev, "but permit me to observe that I have the honor to\r
+be adjutant general to His Majesty...."\r
+\r
+Davout glanced at him silently and plainly derived pleasure from the\r
+signs of agitation and confusion which appeared on Balashev's face.\r
+\r
+"You will be treated as is fitting," said he and, putting the packet in\r
+his pocket, left the shed.\r
+\r
+A minute later the marshal's adjutant, de Castres, came in and conducted\r
+Balashev to the quarters assigned him.\r
+\r
+That day he dined with the marshal, at the same board on the barrels.\r
+\r
+Next day Davout rode out early and, after asking Balashev to come to\r
+him, peremptorily requested him to remain there, to move on with the\r
+baggage train should orders come for it to move, and to talk to no one\r
+except Monsieur de Castres.\r
+\r
+After four days of solitude, ennui, and consciousness of his impotence\r
+and insignificance--particularly acute by contrast with the sphere of\r
+power in which he had so lately moved--and after several marches with\r
+the marshal's baggage and the French army, which occupied the whole\r
+district, Balashev was brought to Vilna--now occupied by the French--\r
+through the very gate by which he had left it four days previously.\r
+\r
+Next day the imperial gentleman-in-waiting, the Comte de Turenne, came\r
+to Balashev and informed him of the Emperor Napoleon's wish to honor him\r
+with an audience.\r
+\r
+Four days before, sentinels of the Preobrazhensk regiment had stood in\r
+front of the house to which Balashev was conducted, and now two French\r
+grenadiers stood there in blue uniforms unfastened in front and with\r
+shaggy caps on their heads, and an escort of hussars and uhlans and a\r
+brilliant suite of aides-de-camp, pages, and generals, who were waiting\r
+for Napoleon to come out, were standing at the porch, round his saddle\r
+horse and his Mameluke, Rustan. Napoleon received Balashev in the very\r
+house in Vilna from which Alexander had dispatched him on his mission.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+Though Balashev was used to imperial pomp, he was amazed at the luxury\r
+and magnificence of Napoleon's court.\r
+\r
+The Comte de Turenne showed him into a big reception room where many\r
+generals, gentlemen-in-waiting, and Polish magnates--several of whom\r
+Balashev had seen at the court of the Emperor of Russia--were waiting.\r
+Duroc said that Napoleon would receive the Russian general before going\r
+for his ride.\r
+\r
+After some minutes, the gentleman-in-waiting who was on duty came into\r
+the great reception room and, bowing politely, asked Balashev to follow\r
+him.\r
+\r
+Balashev went into a small reception room, one door of which led into a\r
+study, the very one from which the Russian Emperor had dispatched him on\r
+his mission. He stood a minute or two, waiting. He heard hurried\r
+footsteps beyond the door, both halves of it were opened rapidly; all\r
+was silent and then from the study the sound was heard of other steps,\r
+firm and resolute--they were those of Napoleon. He had just finished\r
+dressing for his ride, and wore a blue uniform, opening in front over a\r
+white waistcoat so long that it covered his rotund stomach, white\r
+leather breeches tightly fitting the fat thighs of his short legs, and\r
+Hessian boots. His short hair had evidently just been brushed, but one\r
+lock hung down in the middle of his broad forehead. His plump white neck\r
+stood out sharply above the black collar of his uniform, and he smelled\r
+of Eau de Cologne. His full face, rather young-looking, with its\r
+prominent chin, wore a gracious and majestic expression of imperial\r
+welcome.\r
+\r
+He entered briskly, with a jerk at every step and his head slightly\r
+thrown back. His whole short corpulent figure with broad thick\r
+shoulders, and chest and stomach involuntarily protruding, had that\r
+imposing and stately appearance one sees in men of forty who live in\r
+comfort. It was evident, too, that he was in the best of spirits that\r
+day.\r
+\r
+He nodded in answer to Balashav's low and respectful bow, and coming up\r
+to him at once began speaking like a man who values every moment of his\r
+time and does not condescend to prepare what he has to say but is sure\r
+he will always say the right thing and say it well.\r
+\r
+"Good day, General!" said he. "I have received the letter you brought\r
+from the Emperor Alexander and am very glad to see you." He glanced with\r
+his large eyes into Balashav's face and immediately looked past him.\r
+\r
+It was plain that Balashev's personality did not interest him at all.\r
+Evidently only what took place within his own mind interested him.\r
+Nothing outside himself had any significance for him, because everything\r
+in the world, it seemed to him, depended entirely on his will.\r
+\r
+"I do not, and did not, desire war," he continued, "but it has been\r
+forced on me. Even now" (he emphasized the word) "I am ready to receive\r
+any explanations you can give me."\r
+\r
+And he began clearly and concisely to explain his reasons for\r
+dissatisfaction with the Russian government. Judging by the calmly\r
+moderate and amicable tone in which the French Emperor spoke, Balashev\r
+was firmly persuaded that he wished for peace and intended to enter into\r
+negotiations.\r
+\r
+When Napoleon, having finished speaking, looked inquiringly at the\r
+Russian envoy, Balashev began a speech he had prepared long before:\r
+"Sire! The Emperor, my master..." but the sight of the Emperor's eyes\r
+bent on him confused him. "You are flurried--compose yourself!" Napoleon\r
+seemed to say, as with a scarcely perceptible smile he looked at\r
+Balashev's uniform and sword.\r
+\r
+Balashev recovered himself and began to speak. He said that the Emperor\r
+Alexander did not consider Kurakin's demand for his passports a\r
+sufficient cause for war; that Kurakin had acted on his own initiative\r
+and without his sovereign's assent, that the Emperor Alexander did not\r
+desire war, and had no relations with England.\r
+\r
+"Not yet!" interposed Napoleon, and, as if fearing to give vent to his\r
+feelings, he frowned and nodded slightly as a sign that Balashev might\r
+proceed.\r
+\r
+After saying all he had been instructed to say, Balashev added that the\r
+Emperor Alexander wished for peace, but would not enter into\r
+negotiations except on condition that... Here Balashev hesitated: he\r
+remembered the words the Emperor Alexander had not written in his\r
+letter, but had specially inserted in the rescript to Saltykov and had\r
+told Balashev to repeat to Napoleon. Balashev remembered these words,\r
+"So long as a single armed foe remains on Russian soil," but some\r
+complex feeling restrained him. He could not utter them, though he\r
+wished to do so. He grew confused and said: "On condition that the\r
+French army retires beyond the Niemen."\r
+\r
+Napoleon noticed Balashev's embarrassment when uttering these last\r
+words; his face twitched and the calf of his left leg began to quiver\r
+rhythmically. Without moving from where he stood he began speaking in a\r
+louder tone and more hurriedly than before. During the speech that\r
+followed, Balashev, who more than once lowered his eyes, involuntarily\r
+noticed the quivering of Napoleon's left leg which increased the more\r
+Napoleon raised his voice.\r
+\r
+"I desire peace, no less than the Emperor Alexander," he began. "Have I\r
+not for eighteen months been doing everything to obtain it? I have\r
+waited eighteen months for explanations. But in order to begin\r
+negotiations, what is demanded of me?" he said, frowning and making an\r
+energetic gesture of inquiry with his small white plump hand.\r
+\r
+"The withdrawal of your army beyond the Niemen, sire," replied Balashev.\r
+\r
+"The Niemen?" repeated Napoleon. "So now you want me to retire beyond\r
+the Niemen--only the Niemen?" repeated Napoleon, looking straight at\r
+Balashev.\r
+\r
+The latter bowed his head respectfully.\r
+\r
+Instead of the demand of four months earlier to withdraw from Pomerania,\r
+only a withdrawal beyond the Niemen was now demanded. Napoleon turned\r
+quickly and began to pace the room.\r
+\r
+"You say the demand now is that I am to withdraw beyond the Niemen\r
+before commencing negotiations, but in just the same way two months ago\r
+the demand was that I should withdraw beyond the Vistula and the Oder,\r
+and yet you are willing to negotiate."\r
+\r
+He went in silence from one corner of the room to the other and again\r
+stopped in front of Balashev. Balashev noticed that his left leg was\r
+quivering faster than before and his face seemed petrified in its stern\r
+expression. This quivering of his left leg was a thing Napoleon was\r
+conscious of. "The vibration of my left calf is a great sign with me,"\r
+he remarked at a later date.\r
+\r
+"Such demands as to retreat beyond the Vistula and Oder may be made to a\r
+Prince of Baden, but not to me!" Napoleon almost screamed, quite to his\r
+own surprise. "If you gave me Petersburg and Moscow I could not accept\r
+such conditions. You say I have begun this war! But who first joined his\r
+army? The Emperor Alexander, not I! And you offer me negotiations when I\r
+have expended millions, when you are in alliance with England, and when\r
+your position is a bad one. You offer me negotiations! But what is the\r
+aim of your alliance with England? What has she given you?" he continued\r
+hurriedly, evidently no longer trying to show the advantages of peace\r
+and discuss its possibility, but only to prove his own rectitude and\r
+power and Alexander's errors and duplicity.\r
+\r
+The commencement of his speech had obviously been made with the\r
+intention of demonstrating the advantages of his position and showing\r
+that he was nevertheless willing to negotiate. But he had begun talking,\r
+and the more he talked the less could he control his words.\r
+\r
+The whole purport of his remarks now was evidently to exalt himself and\r
+insult Alexander--just what he had least desired at the commencement of\r
+the interview.\r
+\r
+"I hear you have made peace with Turkey?"\r
+\r
+Balashev bowed his head affirmatively.\r
+\r
+"Peace has been concluded..." he began.\r
+\r
+But Napoleon did not let him speak. He evidently wanted to do all the\r
+talking himself, and continued to talk with the sort of eloquence and\r
+unrestrained irritability to which spoiled people are so prone.\r
+\r
+"Yes, I know you have made peace with the Turks without obtaining\r
+Moldavia and Wallachia; I would have given your sovereign those\r
+provinces as I gave him Finland. Yes," he went on, "I promised and would\r
+have given the Emperor Alexander Moldavia and Wallachia, and now he\r
+won't have those splendid provinces. Yet he might have united them to\r
+his empire and in a single reign would have extended Russia from the\r
+Gulf of Bothnia to the mouths of the Danube. Catherine the Great could\r
+not have done more," said Napoleon, growing more and more excited as he\r
+paced up and down the room, repeating to Balashev almost the very words\r
+he had used to Alexander himself at Tilsit. "All that, he would have\r
+owed to my friendship. Oh, what a splendid reign!" he repeated several\r
+times, then paused, drew from his pocket a gold snuffbox, lifted it to\r
+his nose, and greedily sniffed at it.\r
+\r
+"What a splendid reign the Emperor Alexander's might have been!"\r
+\r
+He looked compassionately at Balashev, and as soon as the latter tried\r
+to make some rejoinder hastily interrupted him.\r
+\r
+"What could he wish or look for that he would not have obtained through\r
+my friendship?" demanded Napoleon, shrugging his shoulders in\r
+perplexity. "But no, he has preferred to surround himself with my\r
+enemies, and with whom? With Steins, Armfeldts, Bennigsens, and\r
+Wintzingerodes! Stein, a traitor expelled from his own country;\r
+Armfeldt, a rake and an intriguer; Wintzingerode, a fugitive French\r
+subject; Bennigsen, rather more of a soldier than the others, but all\r
+the same an incompetent who was unable to do anything in 1807 and who\r
+should awaken terrible memories in the Emperor Alexander's mind....\r
+Granted that were they competent they might be made use of," continued\r
+Napoleon--hardly able to keep pace in words with the rush of thoughts\r
+that incessantly sprang up, proving how right and strong he was (in his\r
+perception the two were one and the same)--"but they are not even that!\r
+They are neither fit for war nor peace! Barclay is said to be the most\r
+capable of them all, but I cannot say so, judging by his first\r
+movements. And what are they doing, all these courtiers? Pfuel proposes,\r
+Armfeldt disputes, Bennigsen considers, and Barclay, called on to act,\r
+does not know what to decide on, and time passes bringing no result.\r
+Bagration alone is a military man. He's stupid, but he has experience, a\r
+quick eye, and resolution.... And what role is your young monarch\r
+playing in that monstrous crowd? They compromise him and throw on him\r
+the responsibility for all that happens. A sovereign should not be with\r
+the army unless he is a general!" said Napoleon, evidently uttering\r
+these words as a direct challenge to the Emperor. He knew how Alexander\r
+desired to be a military commander.\r
+\r
+"The campaign began only a week ago, and you haven't even been able to\r
+defend Vilna. You are cut in two and have been driven out of the Polish\r
+provinces. Your army is grumbling."\r
+\r
+"On the contrary, Your Majesty," said Balashev, hardly able to remember\r
+what had been said to him and following these verbal fireworks with\r
+difficulty, "the troops are burning with eagerness..."\r
+\r
+"I know everything!" Napoleon interrupted him. "I know everything. I\r
+know the number of your battalions as exactly as I know my own. You have\r
+not two hundred thousand men, and I have three times that number. I give\r
+you my word of honor," said Napoleon, forgetting that his word of honor\r
+could carry no weight--"I give you my word of honor that I have five\r
+hundred and thirty thousand men this side of the Vistula. The Turks will\r
+be of no use to you; they are worth nothing and have shown it by making\r
+peace with you. As for the Swedes--it is their fate to be governed by\r
+mad kings. Their king was insane and they changed him for another--\r
+Bernadotte, who promptly went mad--for no Swede would ally himself with\r
+Russia unless he were mad."\r
+\r
+Napoleon grinned maliciously and again raised his snuffbox to his nose.\r
+\r
+Balashev knew how to reply to each of Napoleon's remarks, and would have\r
+done so; he continually made the gesture of a man wishing to say\r
+something, but Napoleon always interrupted him. To the alleged insanity\r
+of the Swedes, Balashev wished to reply that when Russia is on her side\r
+Sweden is practically an island: but Napoleon gave an angry exclamation\r
+to drown his voice. Napoleon was in that state of irritability in which\r
+a man has to talk, talk, and talk, merely to convince himself that he is\r
+in the right. Balashev began to feel uncomfortable: as envoy he feared\r
+to demean his dignity and felt the necessity of replying; but, as a man,\r
+he shrank before the transport of groundless wrath that had evidently\r
+seized Napoleon. He knew that none of the words now uttered by Napoleon\r
+had any significance, and that Napoleon himself would be ashamed of them\r
+when he came to his senses. Balashev stood with downcast eyes, looking\r
+at the movements of Napoleon's stout legs and trying to avoid meeting\r
+his eyes.\r
+\r
+"But what do I care about your allies?" said Napoleon. "I have allies--\r
+the Poles. There are eighty thousand of them and they fight like lions.\r
+And there will be two hundred thousand of them."\r
+\r
+And probably still more perturbed by the fact that he had uttered this\r
+obvious falsehood, and that Balashev still stood silently before him in\r
+the same attitude of submission to fate, Napoleon abruptly turned round,\r
+drew close to Balashev's face, and, gesticulating rapidly and\r
+energetically with his white hands, almost shouted:\r
+\r
+"Know that if you stir up Prussia against me, I'll wipe it off the map\r
+of Europe!" he declared, his face pale and distorted by anger, and he\r
+struck one of his small hands energetically with the other. "Yes, I will\r
+throw you back beyond the Dvina and beyond the Dnieper, and will re-\r
+erect against you that barrier which it was criminal and blind of Europe\r
+to allow to be destroyed. Yes, that is what will happen to you. That is\r
+what you have gained by alienating me!" And he walked silently several\r
+times up and down the room, his fat shoulders twitching.\r
+\r
+He put his snuffbox into his waistcoat pocket, took it out again, lifted\r
+it several times to his nose, and stopped in front of Balashev. He\r
+paused, looked ironically straight into Balashev's eyes, and said in a\r
+quiet voice:\r
+\r
+"And yet what a splendid reign your master might have had!"\r
+\r
+Balashev, feeling it incumbent on him to reply, said that from the\r
+Russian side things did not appear in so gloomy a light. Napoleon was\r
+silent, still looking derisively at him and evidently not listening to\r
+him. Balashev said that in Russia the best results were expected from\r
+the war. Napoleon nodded condescendingly, as if to say, "I know it's\r
+your duty to say that, but you don't believe it yourself. I have\r
+convinced you."\r
+\r
+When Balashev had ended, Napoleon again took out his snuffbox, sniffed\r
+at it, and stamped his foot twice on the floor as a signal. The door\r
+opened, a gentleman-in-waiting, bending respectfully, handed the Emperor\r
+his hat and gloves; another brought him a pocket handkerchief. Napoleon,\r
+without giving them a glance, turned to Balashev:\r
+\r
+"Assure the Emperor Alexander from me," said he, taking his hat, "that I\r
+am as devoted to him as before: I know him thoroughly and very highly\r
+esteem his lofty qualities. I will detain you no longer, General; you\r
+shall receive my letter to the Emperor."\r
+\r
+And Napoleon went quickly to the door. Everyone in the reception room\r
+rushed forward and descended the staircase.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+After all that Napoleon had said to him--those bursts of anger and the\r
+last dryly spoken words: "I will detain you no longer, General; you\r
+shall receive my letter," Balashev felt convinced that Napoleon would\r
+not wish to see him, and would even avoid another meeting with him--an\r
+insulted envoy--especially as he had witnessed his unseemly anger. But,\r
+to his surprise, Balashev received, through Duroc, an invitation to dine\r
+with the Emperor that day.\r
+\r
+Bessieres, Caulaincourt, and Berthier were present at that dinner.\r
+\r
+Napoleon met Balashev cheerfully and amiably. He not only showed no sign\r
+of constraint or self-reproach on account of his outburst that morning,\r
+but, on the contrary, tried to reassure Balashev. It was evident that he\r
+had long been convinced that it was impossible for him to make a\r
+mistake, and that in his perception whatever he did was right, not\r
+because it harmonized with any idea of right and wrong, but because he\r
+did it.\r
+\r
+The Emperor was in very good spirits after his ride through Vilna, where\r
+crowds of people had rapturously greeted and followed him. From all the\r
+windows of the streets through which he rode, rugs, flags, and his\r
+monogram were displayed, and the Polish ladies, welcoming him, waved\r
+their handkerchiefs to him.\r
+\r
+At dinner, having placed Balashev beside him, Napoleon not only treated\r
+him amiably but behaved as if Balashev were one of his own courtiers,\r
+one of those who sympathized with his plans and ought to rejoice at his\r
+success. In the course of conversation he mentioned Moscow and\r
+questioned Balashev about the Russian capital, not merely as an\r
+interested traveler asks about a new city he intends to visit, but as if\r
+convinced that Balashev, as a Russian, must be flattered by his\r
+curiosity.\r
+\r
+"How many inhabitants are there in Moscow? How many houses? Is it true\r
+that Moscow is called 'Holy Moscow'? How many churches are there in\r
+Moscow?" he asked.\r
+\r
+And receiving the reply that there were more than two hundred churches,\r
+he remarked:\r
+\r
+"Why such a quantity of churches?"\r
+\r
+"The Russians are very devout," replied Balashev.\r
+\r
+"But a large number of monasteries and churches is always a sign of the\r
+backwardness of a people," said Napoleon, turning to Caulaincourt for\r
+appreciation of this remark.\r
+\r
+Balashev respectfully ventured to disagree with the French Emperor.\r
+\r
+"Every country has its own character," said he.\r
+\r
+"But nowhere in Europe is there anything like that," said Napoleon.\r
+\r
+"I beg your Majesty's pardon," returned Balashev, "besides Russia there\r
+is Spain, where there are also many churches and monasteries."\r
+\r
+This reply of Balashev's, which hinted at the recent defeats of the\r
+French in Spain, was much appreciated when he related it at Alexander's\r
+court, but it was not much appreciated at Napoleon's dinner, where it\r
+passed unnoticed.\r
+\r
+The uninterested and perplexed faces of the marshals showed that they\r
+were puzzled as to what Balashev's tone suggested. "If there is a point\r
+we don't see it, or it is not at all witty," their expressions seemed to\r
+say. So little was his rejoinder appreciated that Napoleon did not\r
+notice it at all and naively asked Balashev through what towns the\r
+direct road from there to Moscow passed. Balashev, who was on the alert\r
+all through the dinner, replied that just as "all roads lead to Rome,"\r
+so all roads lead to Moscow: there were many roads, and "among them the\r
+road through Poltava, which Charles XII chose." Balashev involuntarily\r
+flushed with pleasure at the aptitude of this reply, but hardly had he\r
+uttered the word Poltava before Caulaincourt began speaking of the\r
+badness of the road from Petersburg to Moscow and of his Petersburg\r
+reminiscences.\r
+\r
+After dinner they went to drink coffee in Napoleon's study, which four\r
+days previously had been that of the Emperor Alexander. Napoleon sat\r
+down, toying with his Sevres coffee cup, and motioned Balashev to a\r
+chair beside him.\r
+\r
+Napoleon was in that well-known after-dinner mood which, more than any\r
+reasoned cause, makes a man contented with himself and disposed to\r
+consider everyone his friend. It seemed to him that he was surrounded by\r
+men who adored him: and he felt convinced that, after his dinner,\r
+Balashev too was his friend and worshiper. Napoleon turned to him with a\r
+pleasant, though slightly ironic, smile.\r
+\r
+"They tell me this is the room the Emperor Alexander occupied? Strange,\r
+isn't it, General?" he said, evidently not doubting that this remark\r
+would be agreeable to his hearer since it went to prove his, Napoleon's,\r
+superiority to Alexander.\r
+\r
+Balashev made no reply and bowed his head in silence.\r
+\r
+"Yes. Four days ago in this room, Wintzingerode and Stein were\r
+deliberating," continued Napoleon with the same derisive and self-\r
+confident smile. "What I can't understand," he went on, "is that the\r
+Emperor Alexander has surrounded himself with my personal enemies. That\r
+I do not... understand. Has he not thought that I may do the same?" and\r
+he turned inquiringly to Balashev, and evidently this thought turned him\r
+back on to the track of his morning's anger, which was still fresh in\r
+him.\r
+\r
+"And let him know that I will do so!" said Napoleon, rising and pushing\r
+his cup away with his hand. "I'll drive all his Wurttemberg, Baden, and\r
+Weimar relations out of Germany.... Yes. I'll drive them out. Let him\r
+prepare an asylum for them in Russia!"\r
+\r
+Balashev bowed his head with an air indicating that he would like to\r
+make his bow and leave, and only listened because he could not help\r
+hearing what was said to him. Napoleon did not notice this expression;\r
+he treated Balashev not as an envoy from his enemy, but as a man now\r
+fully devoted to him and who must rejoice at his former master's\r
+humiliation.\r
+\r
+"And why has the Emperor Alexander taken command of the armies? What is\r
+the good of that? War is my profession, but his business is to reign and\r
+not to command armies! Why has he taken on himself such a\r
+responsibility?"\r
+\r
+Again Napoleon brought out his snuffbox, paced several times up and down\r
+the room in silence, and then, suddenly and unexpectedly, went up to\r
+Balashev and with a slight smile, as confidently, quickly, and simply as\r
+if he were doing something not merely important but pleasing to\r
+Balashev, he raised his hand to the forty-year-old Russian general's\r
+face and, taking him by the ear, pulled it gently, smiling with his lips\r
+only.\r
+\r
+To have one's ear pulled by the Emperor was considered the greatest\r
+honor and mark of favor at the French court.\r
+\r
+"Well, adorer and courtier of the Emperor Alexander, why don't you say\r
+anything?" said he, as if it was ridiculous, in his presence, to be the\r
+adorer and courtier of anyone but himself, Napoleon. "Are the horses\r
+ready for the general?" he added, with a slight inclination of his head\r
+in reply to Balashev's bow. "Let him have mine, he has a long way to\r
+go!"\r
+\r
+The letter taken by Balashev was the last Napoleon sent to Alexander.\r
+Every detail of the interview was communicated to the Russian monarch,\r
+and the war began...\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+After his interview with Pierre in Moscow, Prince Andrew went to\r
+Petersburg, on business as he told his family, but really to meet\r
+Anatole Kuragin whom he felt it necessary to encounter. On reaching\r
+Petersburg he inquired for Kuragin but the latter had already left the\r
+city. Pierre had warned his brother-in-law that Prince Andrew was on his\r
+track. Anatole Kuragin promptly obtained an appointment from the\r
+Minister of War and went to join the army in Moldavia. While in\r
+Petersburg Prince Andrew met Kutuzov, his former commander who was\r
+always well disposed toward him, and Kutuzov suggested that he should\r
+accompany him to the army in Moldavia, to which the old general had been\r
+appointed commander-in-chief. So Prince Andrew, having received an\r
+appointment on the headquarters staff, left for Turkey.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew did not think it proper to write and challenge Kuragin. He\r
+thought that if he challenged him without some fresh cause it might\r
+compromise the young Countess Rostova and so he wanted to meet Kuragin\r
+personally in order to find a fresh pretext for a duel. But he again\r
+failed to meet Kuragin in Turkey, for soon after Prince Andrew arrived,\r
+the latter returned to Russia. In a new country, amid new conditions,\r
+Prince Andrew found life easier to bear. After his betrothed had broken\r
+faith with him--which he felt the more acutely the more he tried to\r
+conceal its effects--the surroundings in which he had been happy became\r
+trying to him, and the freedom and independence he had once prized so\r
+highly were still more so. Not only could he no longer think the\r
+thoughts that had first come to him as he lay gazing at the sky on the\r
+field of Austerlitz and had later enlarged upon with Pierre, and which\r
+had filled his solitude at Bogucharovo and then in Switzerland and Rome,\r
+but he even dreaded to recall them and the bright and boundless horizons\r
+they had revealed. He was now concerned only with the nearest practical\r
+matters unrelated to his past interests, and he seized on these the more\r
+eagerly the more those past interests were closed to him. It was as if\r
+that lofty, infinite canopy of heaven that had once towered above him\r
+had suddenly turned into a low, solid vault that weighed him down, in\r
+which all was clear, but nothing eternal or mysterious.\r
+\r
+Of the activities that presented themselves to him, army service was the\r
+simplest and most familiar. As a general on duty on Kutuzov's staff, he\r
+applied himself to business with zeal and perseverance and surprised\r
+Kutuzov by his willingness and accuracy in work. Not having found\r
+Kuragin in Turkey, Prince Andrew did not think it necessary to rush back\r
+to Russia after him, but all the same he knew that however long it might\r
+be before he met Kuragin, despite his contempt for him and despite all\r
+the proofs he deduced to convince himself that it was not worth stooping\r
+to a conflict with him--he knew that when he did meet him he would not\r
+be able to resist calling him out, any more than a ravenous man can help\r
+snatching at food. And the consciousness that the insult was not yet\r
+avenged, that his rancor was still unspent, weighed on his heart and\r
+poisoned the artificial tranquillity which he managed to obtain in\r
+Turkey by means of restless, plodding, and rather vainglorious and\r
+ambitious activity.\r
+\r
+In the year 1812, when news of the war with Napoleon reached Bucharest--\r
+where Kutuzov had been living for two months, passing his days and\r
+nights with a Wallachian woman--Prince Andrew asked Kutuzov to transfer\r
+him to the Western Army. Kutuzov, who was already weary of Bolkonski's\r
+activity which seemed to reproach his own idleness, very readily let him\r
+go and gave him a mission to Barclay de Tolly.\r
+\r
+Before joining the Western Army which was then, in May, encamped at\r
+Drissa, Prince Andrew visited Bald Hills which was directly on his way,\r
+being only two miles off the Smolensk highroad. During the last three\r
+years there had been so many changes in his life, he had thought, felt,\r
+and seen so much (having traveled both in the east and the west), that\r
+on reaching Bald Hills it struck him as strange and unexpected to find\r
+the way of life there unchanged and still the same in every detail. He\r
+entered through the gates with their stone pillars and drove up the\r
+avenue leading to the house as if he were entering an enchanted,\r
+sleeping castle. The same old stateliness, the same cleanliness, the\r
+same stillness reigned there, and inside there was the same furniture,\r
+the same walls, sounds, and smell, and the same timid faces, only\r
+somewhat older. Princess Mary was still the same timid, plain maiden\r
+getting on in years, uselessly and joylessly passing the best years of\r
+her life in fear and constant suffering. Mademoiselle Bourienne was the\r
+same coquettish, self-satisfied girl, enjoying every moment of her\r
+existence and full of joyous hopes for the future. She had merely become\r
+more self-confident, Prince Andrew thought. Dessalles, the tutor he had\r
+brought from Switzerland, was wearing a coat of Russian cut and talking\r
+broken Russian to the servants, but was still the same narrowly\r
+intelligent, conscientious, and pedantic preceptor. The old prince had\r
+changed in appearance only by the loss of a tooth, which left a\r
+noticeable gap on one side of his mouth; in character he was the same as\r
+ever, only showing still more irritability and skepticism as to what was\r
+happening in the world. Little Nicholas alone had changed. He had grown,\r
+become rosier, had curly dark hair, and, when merry and laughing, quite\r
+unconsciously lifted the upper lip of his pretty little mouth just as\r
+the little princess used to do. He alone did not obey the law of\r
+immutability in the enchanted, sleeping castle. But though externally\r
+all remained as of old, the inner relations of all these people had\r
+changed since Prince Andrew had seen them last. The household was\r
+divided into two alien and hostile camps, who changed their habits for\r
+his sake and only met because he was there. To the one camp belonged the\r
+old prince, Mademoiselle Bourienne, and the architect; to the other\r
+Princess Mary, Dessalles, little Nicholas, and all the old nurses and\r
+maids.\r
+\r
+During his stay at Bald Hills all the family dined together, but they\r
+were ill at ease and Prince Andrew felt that he was a visitor for whose\r
+sake an exception was being made and that his presence made them all\r
+feel awkward. Involuntarily feeling this at dinner on the first day, he\r
+was taciturn, and the old prince noticing this also became morosely dumb\r
+and retired to his apartments directly after dinner. In the evening,\r
+when Prince Andrew went to him and, trying to rouse him, began to tell\r
+him of the young Count Kamensky's campaign, the old prince began\r
+unexpectedly to talk about Princess Mary, blaming her for her\r
+superstitions and her dislike of Mademoiselle Bourienne, who, he said,\r
+was the only person really attached to him.\r
+\r
+The old prince said that if he was ill it was only because of Princess\r
+Mary: that she purposely worried and irritated him, and that by\r
+indulgence and silly talk she was spoiling little Prince Nicholas. The\r
+old prince knew very well that he tormented his daughter and that her\r
+life was very hard, but he also knew that he could not help tormenting\r
+her and that she deserved it. "Why does Prince Andrew, who sees this,\r
+say nothing to me about his sister? Does he think me a scoundrel, or an\r
+old fool who, without any reason, keeps his own daughter at a distance\r
+and attaches this Frenchwoman to himself? He doesn't understand, so I\r
+must explain it, and he must hear me out," thought the old prince. And\r
+he began explaining why he could not put up with his daughter's\r
+unreasonable character.\r
+\r
+"If you ask me," said Prince Andrew, without looking up (he was\r
+censuring his father for the first time in his life), "I did not wish to\r
+speak about it, but as you ask me I will give you my frank opinion. If\r
+there is any misunderstanding and discord between you and Mary, I can't\r
+blame her for it at all. I know how she loves and respects you. Since\r
+you ask me," continued Prince Andrew, becoming irritable--as he was\r
+always liable to do of late--"I can only say that if there are any\r
+misunderstandings they are caused by that worthless woman, who is not\r
+fit to be my sister's companion."\r
+\r
+The old man at first stared fixedly at his son, and an unnatural smile\r
+disclosed the fresh gap between his teeth to which Prince Andrew could\r
+not get accustomed.\r
+\r
+"What companion, my dear boy? Eh? You've already been talking it over!\r
+Eh?"\r
+\r
+"Father, I did not want to judge," said Prince Andrew, in a hard and\r
+bitter tone, "but you challenged me, and I have said, and always shall\r
+say, that Mary is not to blame, but those to blame--the one to blame--is\r
+that Frenchwoman."\r
+\r
+"Ah, he has passed judgment... passed judgement!" said the old man in a\r
+low voice and, as it seemed to Prince Andrew, with some embarrassment,\r
+but then he suddenly jumped up and cried: "Be off, be off! Let not a\r
+trace of you remain here!..."\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew wished to leave at once, but Princess Mary persuaded him\r
+to stay another day. That day he did not see his father, who did not\r
+leave his room and admitted no one but Mademoiselle Bourienne and\r
+Tikhon, but asked several times whether his son had gone. Next day,\r
+before leaving, Prince Andrew went to his son's rooms. The boy, curly-\r
+headed like his mother and glowing with health, sat on his knee, and\r
+Prince Andrew began telling him the story of Bluebeard, but fell into a\r
+reverie without finishing the story. He thought not of this pretty\r
+child, his son whom he held on his knee, but of himself. He sought in\r
+himself either remorse for having angered his father or regret at\r
+leaving home for the first time in his life on bad terms with him, and\r
+was horrified to find neither. What meant still more to him was that he\r
+sought and did not find in himself the former tenderness for his son\r
+which he had hoped to reawaken by caressing the boy and taking him on\r
+his knee.\r
+\r
+"Well, go on!" said his son.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew, without replying, put him down from his knee and went out\r
+of the room.\r
+\r
+As soon as Prince Andrew had given up his daily occupations, and\r
+especially on returning to the old conditions of life amid which he had\r
+been happy, weariness of life overcame him with its former intensity,\r
+and he hastened to escape from these memories and to find some work as\r
+soon as possible.\r
+\r
+"So you've decided to go, Andrew?" asked his sister.\r
+\r
+"Thank God that I can," replied Prince Andrew. "I am very sorry you\r
+can't."\r
+\r
+"Why do you say that?" replied Princess Mary. "Why do you say that, when\r
+you are going to this terrible war, and he is so old? Mademoiselle\r
+Bourienne says he has been asking about you...."\r
+\r
+As soon as she began to speak of that, her lips trembled and her tears\r
+began to fall. Prince Andrew turned away and began pacing the room.\r
+\r
+"Ah, my God! my God! When one thinks who and what--what trash--can cause\r
+people misery!" he said with a malignity that alarmed Princess Mary.\r
+\r
+She understood that when speaking of "trash" he referred not only to\r
+Mademoiselle Bourienne, the cause of her misery, but also to the man who\r
+had ruined his own happiness.\r
+\r
+"Andrew! One thing I beg, I entreat of you!" she said, touching his\r
+elbow and looking at him with eyes that shone through her tears. "I\r
+understand you" (she looked down). "Don't imagine that sorrow is the\r
+work of men. Men are His tools." She looked a little above Prince\r
+Andrew's head with the confident, accustomed look with which one looks\r
+at the place where a familiar portrait hangs. "Sorrow is sent by Him,\r
+not by men. Men are His instruments, they are not to blame. If you think\r
+someone has wronged you, forget it and forgive! We have no right to\r
+punish. And then you will know the happiness of forgiving."\r
+\r
+"If I were a woman I would do so, Mary. That is a woman's virtue. But a\r
+man should not and cannot forgive and forget," he replied, and though\r
+till that moment he had not been thinking of Kuragin, all his unexpended\r
+anger suddenly swelled up in his heart.\r
+\r
+"If Mary is already persuading me to forgive, it means that I ought long\r
+ago to have punished him," he thought. And giving her no further reply,\r
+he began thinking of the glad vindictive moment when he would meet\r
+Kuragin who he knew was now in the army.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary begged him to stay one day more, saying that she knew how\r
+unhappy her father would be if Andrew left without being reconciled to\r
+him, but Prince Andrew replied that he would probably soon be back again\r
+from the army and would certainly write to his father, but that the\r
+longer he stayed now the more embittered their differences would become.\r
+\r
+"Good-bye, Andrew! Remember that misfortunes come from God, and men are\r
+never to blame," were the last words he heard from his sister when he\r
+took leave of her.\r
+\r
+"Then it must be so!" thought Prince Andrew as he drove out of the\r
+avenue from the house at Bald Hills. "She, poor innocent creature, is\r
+left to be victimized by an old man who has outlived his wits. The old\r
+man feels he is guilty, but cannot change himself. My boy is growing up\r
+and rejoices in life, in which like everybody else he will deceive or be\r
+deceived. And I am off to the army. Why? I myself don't know. I want to\r
+meet that man whom I despise, so as to give him a chance to kill and\r
+laugh at me!"\r
+\r
+These conditions of life had been the same before, but then they were\r
+all connected, while now they had all tumbled to pieces. Only senseless\r
+things, lacking coherence, presented themselves one after another to\r
+Prince Andrew's mind.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew reached the general headquarters of the army at the end of\r
+June. The first army, with which was the Emperor, occupied the fortified\r
+camp at Drissa; the second army was retreating, trying to effect a\r
+junction with the first one from which it was said to be cut off by\r
+large French forces. Everyone was dissatisfied with the general course\r
+of affairs in the Russian army, but no one anticipated any danger of\r
+invasion of the Russian provinces, and no one thought the war would\r
+extend farther than the western, the Polish, provinces.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew found Barclay de Tolly, to whom he had been assigned, on\r
+the bank of the Drissa. As there was not a single town or large village\r
+in the vicinity of the camp, the immense number of generals and\r
+courtiers accompanying the army were living in the best houses of the\r
+villages on both sides of the river, over a radius of six miles. Barclay\r
+de Tolly was quartered nearly three miles from the Emperor. He received\r
+Bolkonski stiffly and coldly and told him in his foreign accent that he\r
+would mention him to the Emperor for a decision as to his employment,\r
+but asked him meanwhile to remain on his staff. Anatole Kuragin, whom\r
+Prince Andrew had hoped to find with the army, was not there. He had\r
+gone to Petersburg, but Prince Andrew was glad to hear this. His mind\r
+was occupied by the interests of the center that was conducting a\r
+gigantic war, and he was glad to be free for a while from the\r
+distraction caused by the thought of Kuragin. During the first four\r
+days, while no duties were required of him, Prince Andrew rode round the\r
+whole fortified camp and, by the aid of his own knowledge and by talks\r
+with experts, tried to form a definite opinion about it. But the\r
+question whether the camp was advantageous or disadvantageous remained\r
+for him undecided. Already from his military experience and what he had\r
+seen in the Austrian campaign, he had come to the conclusion that in war\r
+the most deeply considered plans have no significance and that all\r
+depends on the way unexpected movements of the enemy--that cannot be\r
+foreseen--are met, and on how and by whom the whole matter is handled.\r
+To clear up this last point for himself, Prince Andrew, utilizing his\r
+position and acquaintances, tried to fathom the character of the control\r
+of the army and of the men and parties engaged in it, and he deduced for\r
+himself the following of the state of affairs.\r
+\r
+While the Emperor had still been at Vilna, the forces had been divided\r
+into three armies. First, the army under Barclay de Tolly, secondly, the\r
+army under Bagration, and thirdly, the one commanded by Tormasov. The\r
+Emperor was with the first army, but not as commander-in-chief. In the\r
+orders issued it was stated, not that the Emperor would take command,\r
+but only that he would be with the army. The Emperor, moreover, had with\r
+him not a commander-in-chief's staff but the imperial headquarters\r
+staff. In attendance on him was the head of the imperial staff,\r
+Quartermaster General Prince Volkonski, as well as generals, imperial\r
+aides-de-camp, diplomatic officials, and a large number of foreigners,\r
+but not the army staff. Besides these, there were in attendance on the\r
+Emperor without any definite appointments: Arakcheev, the ex-Minister of\r
+War; Count Bennigsen, the senior general in rank; the Grand Duke\r
+Tsarevich Constantine Pavlovich; Count Rumyantsev, the Chancellor;\r
+Stein, a former Prussian minister; Armfeldt, a Swedish general; Pfuel,\r
+the chief author of the plan of campaign; Paulucci, an adjutant general\r
+and Sardinian emigre; Wolzogen--and many others. Though these men had no\r
+military appointment in the army, their position gave them influence,\r
+and often a corps commander, or even the commander-in-chief, did not\r
+know in what capacity he was questioned by Bennigsen, the Grand Duke,\r
+Arakcheev, or Prince Volkonski, or was given this or that advice and did\r
+not know whether a certain order received in the form of advice emanated\r
+from the man who gave it or from the Emperor and whether it had to be\r
+executed or not. But this was only the external condition; the essential\r
+significance of the presence of the Emperor and of all these people,\r
+from a courtier's point of view (and in an Emperor's vicinity all became\r
+courtiers), was clear to everyone. It was this: the Emperor did not\r
+assume the title of commander-in-chief, but disposed of all the armies;\r
+the men around him were his assistants. Arakcheev was a faithful\r
+custodian to enforce order and acted as the sovereign's bodyguard.\r
+Bennigsen was a landlord in the Vilna province who appeared to be doing\r
+the honors of the district, but was in reality a good general, useful as\r
+an adviser and ready at hand to replace Barclay. The Grand Duke was\r
+there because it suited him to be. The ex-Minister Stein was there\r
+because his advice was useful and the Emperor Alexander held him in high\r
+esteem personally. Armfeldt virulently hated Napoleon and was a general\r
+full of self-confidence, a quality that always influenced Alexander.\r
+Paulucci was there because he was bold and decided in speech. The\r
+adjutants general were there because they always accompanied the\r
+Emperor, and lastly and chiefly Pfuel was there because he had drawn up\r
+the plan of campaign against Napoleon and, having induced Alexander to\r
+believe in the efficacy of that plan, was directing the whole business\r
+of the war. With Pfuel was Wolzogen, who expressed Pfuel's thoughts in a\r
+more comprehensible way than Pfuel himself (who was a harsh, bookish\r
+theorist, self-confident to the point of despising everyone else) was\r
+able to do.\r
+\r
+Besides these Russians and foreigners who propounded new and unexpected\r
+ideas every day--especially the foreigners, who did so with a boldness\r
+characteristic of people employed in a country not their own--there were\r
+many secondary personages accompanying the army because their principals\r
+were there.\r
+\r
+Among the opinions and voices in this immense, restless, brilliant, and\r
+proud sphere, Prince Andrew noticed the following sharply defined\r
+subdivisions of tendencies and parties:\r
+\r
+The first party consisted of Pfuel and his adherents--military theorists\r
+who believed in a science of war with immutable laws--laws of oblique\r
+movements, outflankings, and so forth. Pfuel and his adherents demanded\r
+a retirement into the depths of the country in accordance with precise\r
+laws defined by a pseudo-theory of war, and they saw only barbarism,\r
+ignorance, or evil intention in every deviation from that theory. To\r
+this party belonged the foreign nobles, Wolzogen, Wintzingerode, and\r
+others, chiefly Germans.\r
+\r
+The second party was directly opposed to the first; one extreme, as\r
+always happens, was met by representatives of the other. The members of\r
+this party were those who had demanded an advance from Vilna into Poland\r
+and freedom from all prearranged plans. Besides being advocates of bold\r
+action, this section also represented nationalism, which made them still\r
+more one-sided in the dispute. They were Russians: Bagration, Ermolov\r
+(who was beginning to come to the front), and others. At that time a\r
+famous joke of Ermolov's was being circulated, that as a great favor he\r
+had petitioned the Emperor to make him a German. The men of that party,\r
+remembering Suvorov, said that what one had to do was not to reason, or\r
+stick pins into maps, but to fight, beat the enemy, keep him out of\r
+Russia, and not let the army get discouraged.\r
+\r
+To the third party--in which the Emperor had most confidence--belonged\r
+the courtiers who tried to arrange compromises between the other two.\r
+The members of this party, chiefly civilians and to whom Arakcheev\r
+belonged, thought and said what men who have no convictions but wish to\r
+seem to have some generally say. They said that undoubtedly war,\r
+particularly against such a genius as Bonaparte (they called him\r
+Bonaparte now), needs most deeply devised plans and profound scientific\r
+knowledge and in that respect Pfuel was a genius, but at the same time\r
+it had to be acknowledged that the theorists are often one-sided, and\r
+therefore one should not trust them absolutely, but should also listen\r
+to what Pfuel's opponents and practical men of experience in warfare had\r
+to say, and then choose a middle course. They insisted on the retention\r
+of the camp at Drissa, according to Pfuel's plan, but on changing the\r
+movements of the other armies. Though, by this course, neither one aim\r
+nor the other could be attained, yet it seemed best to the adherents of\r
+this third party.\r
+\r
+Of a fourth opinion the most conspicuous representative was the\r
+Tsarevich, who could not forget his disillusionment at Austerlitz, where\r
+he had ridden out at the head of the Guards, in his casque and cavalry\r
+uniform as to a review, expecting to crush the French gallantly; but\r
+unexpectedly finding himself in the front line had narrowly escaped amid\r
+the general confusion. The men of this party had both the quality and\r
+the defect of frankness in their opinions. They feared Napoleon,\r
+recognized his strength and their own weakness, and frankly said so.\r
+They said: "Nothing but sorrow, shame, and ruin will come of all this!\r
+We have abandoned Vilna and Vitebsk and shall abandon Drissa. The only\r
+reasonable thing left to do is to conclude peace as soon as possible,\r
+before we are turned out of Petersburg."\r
+\r
+This view was very general in the upper army circles and found support\r
+also in Petersburg and from the chancellor, Rumyantsev, who, for other\r
+reasons of state, was in favor of peace.\r
+\r
+The fifth party consisted of those who were adherents of Barclay de\r
+Tolly, not so much as a man but as minister of war and commander-in-\r
+chief. "Be he what he may" (they always began like that), "he is an\r
+honest, practical man and we have nobody better. Give him real power,\r
+for war cannot be conducted successfully without unity of command, and\r
+he will show what he can do, as he did in Finland. If our army is well\r
+organized and strong and has withdrawn to Drissa without suffering any\r
+defeats, we owe this entirely to Barclay. If Barclay is now to be\r
+superseded by Bennigsen all will be lost, for Bennigsen showed his\r
+incapacity already in 1807."\r
+\r
+The sixth party, the Bennigsenites, said, on the contrary, that at any\r
+rate there was no one more active and experienced than Bennigsen: "and\r
+twist about as you may, you will have to come to Bennigsen eventually.\r
+Let the others make mistakes now!" said they, arguing that our\r
+retirement to Drissa was a most shameful reverse and an unbroken series\r
+of blunders. "The more mistakes that are made the better. It will at any\r
+rate be understood all the sooner that things cannot go on like this.\r
+What is wanted is not some Barclay or other, but a man like Bennigsen,\r
+who made his mark in 1807, and to whom Napoleon himself did justice--a\r
+man whose authority would be willingly recognized, and Bennigsen is the\r
+only such man."\r
+\r
+The seventh party consisted of the sort of people who are always to be\r
+found, especially around young sovereigns, and of whom there were\r
+particularly many round Alexander--generals and imperial aides-de-camp\r
+passionately devoted to the Emperor, not merely as a monarch but as a\r
+man, adoring him sincerely and disinterestedly, as Rostov had done in\r
+1805, and who saw in him not only all the virtues but all human\r
+capabilities as well. These men, though enchanted with the sovereign for\r
+refusing the command of the army, yet blamed him for such excessive\r
+modesty, and only desired and insisted that their adored sovereign\r
+should abandon his diffidence and openly announce that he would place\r
+himself at the head of the army, gather round him a commander-in-chief's\r
+staff, and, consulting experienced theoreticians and practical men where\r
+necessary, would himself lead the troops, whose spirits would thereby be\r
+raised to the highest pitch.\r
+\r
+The eighth and largest group, which in its enormous numbers was to the\r
+others as ninety-nine to one, consisted of men who desired neither peace\r
+nor war, neither an advance nor a defensive camp at the Drissa or\r
+anywhere else, neither Barclay nor the Emperor, neither Pfuel nor\r
+Bennigsen, but only the one most essential thing--as much advantage and\r
+pleasure for themselves as possible. In the troubled waters of\r
+conflicting and intersecting intrigues that eddied about the Emperor's\r
+headquarters, it was possible to succeed in many ways unthinkable at\r
+other times. A man who simply wished to retain his lucrative post would\r
+today agree with Pfuel, tomorrow with his opponent, and the day after,\r
+merely to avoid responsibility or to please the Emperor, would declare\r
+that he had no opinion at all on the matter. Another who wished to gain\r
+some advantage would attract the Emperor's attention by loudly\r
+advocating the very thing the Emperor had hinted at the day before, and\r
+would dispute and shout at the council, beating his breast and\r
+challenging those who did not agree with him to duels, thereby proving\r
+that he was prepared to sacrifice himself for the common good. A third,\r
+in the absence of opponents, between two councils would simply solicit a\r
+special gratuity for his faithful services, well knowing that at that\r
+moment people would be too busy to refuse him. A fourth while seemingly\r
+overwhelmed with work would often come accidentally under the Emperor's\r
+eye. A fifth, to achieve his long-cherished aim of dining with the\r
+Emperor, would stubbornly insist on the correctness or falsity of some\r
+newly emerging opinion and for this object would produce arguments more\r
+or less forcible and correct.\r
+\r
+All the men of this party were fishing for rubles, decorations, and\r
+promotions, and in this pursuit watched only the weathercock of imperial\r
+favor, and directly they noticed it turning in any direction, this whole\r
+drone population of the army began blowing hard that way, so that it was\r
+all the harder for the Emperor to turn it elsewhere. Amid the\r
+uncertainties of the position, with the menace of serious danger giving\r
+a peculiarly threatening character to everything, amid this vortex of\r
+intrigue, egotism, conflict of views and feelings, and the diversity of\r
+race among these people--this eighth and largest party of those\r
+preoccupied with personal interests imparted great confusion and\r
+obscurity to the common task. Whatever question arose, a swarm of these\r
+drones, without having finished their buzzing on a previous theme, flew\r
+over to the new one and by their hum drowned and obscured the voices of\r
+those who were disputing honestly.\r
+\r
+From among all these parties, just at the time Prince Andrew reached the\r
+army, another, a ninth party, was being formed and was beginning to\r
+raise its voice. This was the party of the elders, reasonable men\r
+experienced and capable in state affairs, who, without sharing any of\r
+those conflicting opinions, were able to take a detached view of what\r
+was going on at the staff at headquarters and to consider means of\r
+escape from this muddle, indecision, intricacy, and weakness.\r
+\r
+The men of this party said and thought that what was wrong resulted\r
+chiefly from the Emperor's presence in the army with his military court\r
+and from the consequent presence there of an indefinite, conditional,\r
+and unsteady fluctuation of relations, which is in place at court but\r
+harmful in an army; that a sovereign should reign but not command the\r
+army, and that the only way out of the position would be for the Emperor\r
+and his court to leave the army; that the mere presence of the Emperor\r
+paralyzed the action of fifty thousand men required to secure his\r
+personal safety, and that the worst commander-in-chief, if independent,\r
+would be better than the very best one trammeled by the presence and\r
+authority of the monarch.\r
+\r
+Just at the time Prince Andrew was living unoccupied at Drissa,\r
+Shishkov, the Secretary of State and one of the chief representatives of\r
+this party, wrote a letter to the Emperor which Arakcheev and Balashev\r
+agreed to sign. In this letter, availing himself of permission given him\r
+by the Emperor to discuss the general course of affairs, he respectfully\r
+suggested--on the plea that it was necessary for the sovereign to arouse\r
+a warlike spirit in the people of the capital--that the Emperor should\r
+leave the army.\r
+\r
+That arousing of the people by their sovereign and his call to them to\r
+defend their country--the very incitement which was the chief cause of\r
+Russia's triumph in so far as it was produced by the Tsar's personal\r
+presence in Moscow--was suggested to the Emperor, and accepted by him,\r
+as a pretext for quitting the army.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+This letter had not yet been presented to the Emperor when Barclay, one\r
+day at dinner, informed Bolkonski that the sovereign wished to see him\r
+personally, to question him about Turkey, and that Prince Andrew was to\r
+present himself at Bennigsen's quarters at six that evening.\r
+\r
+News was received at the Emperor's quarters that very day of a fresh\r
+movement by Napoleon which might endanger the army--news subsequently\r
+found to be false. And that morning Colonel Michaud had ridden round the\r
+Drissa fortifications with the Emperor and had pointed out to him that\r
+this fortified camp constructed by Pfuel, and till then considered a\r
+chef-d'oeuvre of tactical science which would ensure Napoleon's\r
+destruction, was an absurdity, threatening the destruction of the\r
+Russian army.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew arrived at Bennigsen's quarters--a country gentleman's\r
+house of moderate size, situated on the very banks of the river. Neither\r
+Bennigsen nor the Emperor was there, but Chernyshev, the Emperor's aide-\r
+de-camp, received Bolkonski and informed him that the Emperor,\r
+accompanied by General Bennigsen and Marquis Paulucci, had gone a second\r
+time that day to inspect the fortifications of the Drissa camp, of the\r
+suitability of which serious doubts were beginning to be felt.\r
+\r
+Chernyshev was sitting at a window in the first room with a French novel\r
+in his hand. This room had probably been a music room; there was still\r
+an organ in it on which some rugs were piled, and in one corner stood\r
+the folding bedstead of Bennigsen's adjutant. This adjutant was also\r
+there and sat dozing on the rolled-up bedding, evidently exhausted by\r
+work or by feasting. Two doors led from the room, one straight on into\r
+what had been the drawing room, and another, on the right, to the study.\r
+Through the first door came the sound of voices conversing in German and\r
+occasionally in French. In that drawing room were gathered, by the\r
+Emperor's wish, not a military council (the Emperor preferred\r
+indefiniteness), but certain persons whose opinions he wished to know in\r
+view of the impending difficulties. It was not a council of war, but, as\r
+it were, a council to elucidate certain questions for the Emperor\r
+personally. To this semicouncil had been invited the Swedish General\r
+Armfeldt, Adjutant General Wolzogen, Wintzingerode (whom Napoleon had\r
+referred to as a renegade French subject), Michaud, Toll, Count Stein\r
+who was not a military man at all, and Pfuel himself, who, as Prince\r
+Andrew had heard, was the mainspring of the whole affair. Prince Andrew\r
+had an opportunity of getting a good look at him, for Pfuel arrived soon\r
+after himself and, in passing through to the drawing room, stopped a\r
+minute to speak to Chernyshev.\r
+\r
+At first sight, Pfuel, in his ill-made uniform of a Russian general,\r
+which fitted him badly like a fancy costume, seemed familiar to Prince\r
+Andrew, though he saw him now for the first time. There was about him\r
+something of Weyrother, Mack, and Schmidt, and many other German\r
+theorist-generals whom Prince Andrew had seen in 1805, but he was more\r
+typical than any of them. Prince Andrew had never yet seen a German\r
+theorist in whom all the characteristics of those others were united to\r
+such an extent.\r
+\r
+Pfuel was short and very thin but broad-boned, of coarse, robust build,\r
+broad in the hips, and with prominent shoulder blades. His face was much\r
+wrinkled and his eyes deep set. His hair had evidently been hastily\r
+brushed smooth in front of the temples, but stuck up behind in quaint\r
+little tufts. He entered the room, looking restlessly and angrily\r
+around, as if afraid of everything in that large apartment. Awkwardly\r
+holding up his sword, he addressed Chernyshev and asked in German where\r
+the Emperor was. One could see that he wished to pass through the rooms\r
+as quickly as possible, finish with the bows and greetings, and sit down\r
+to business in front of a map, where he would feel at home. He nodded\r
+hurriedly in reply to Chernyshev, and smiled ironically on hearing that\r
+the sovereign was inspecting the fortifications that he, Pfuel, had\r
+planned in accord with his theory. He muttered something to himself\r
+abruptly and in a bass voice, as self-assured Germans do--it might have\r
+been "stupid fellow"... or "the whole affair will be ruined," or\r
+"something absurd will come of it."... Prince Andrew did not catch what\r
+he said and would have passed on, but Chernyshev introduced him to\r
+Pfuel, remarking that Prince Andrew was just back from Turkey where the\r
+war had terminated so fortunately. Pfuel barely glanced--not so much at\r
+Prince Andrew as past him--and said, with a laugh: "That must have been\r
+a fine tactical war"; and, laughing contemptuously, went on into the\r
+room from which the sound of voices was heard.\r
+\r
+Pfuel, always inclined to be irritably sarcastic, was particularly\r
+disturbed that day, evidently by the fact that they had dared to inspect\r
+and criticize his camp in his absence. From this short interview with\r
+Pfuel, Prince Andrew, thanks to his Austerlitz experiences, was able to\r
+form a clear conception of the man. Pfuel was one of those hopelessly\r
+and immutably self-confident men, self-confident to the point of\r
+martyrdom as only Germans are, because only Germans are self-confident\r
+on the basis of an abstract notion--science, that is, the supposed\r
+knowledge of absolute truth. A Frenchman is self-assured because he\r
+regards himself personally, both in mind and body, as irresistibly\r
+attractive to men and women. An Englishman is self-assured, as being a\r
+citizen of the best-organized state in the world, and therefore as an\r
+Englishman always knows what he should do and knows that all he does as\r
+an Englishman is undoubtedly correct. An Italian is self-assured because\r
+he is excitable and easily forgets himself and other people. A Russian\r
+is self-assured just because he knows nothing and does not want to know\r
+anything, since he does not believe that anything can be known. The\r
+German's self-assurance is worst of all, stronger and more repulsive\r
+than any other, because he imagines that he knows the truth--science--\r
+which he himself has invented but which is for him the absolute truth.\r
+\r
+Pfuel was evidently of that sort. He had a science--the theory of\r
+oblique movements deduced by him from the history of Frederick the\r
+Great's wars, and all he came across in the history of more recent\r
+warfare seemed to him absurd and barbarous--monstrous collisions in\r
+which so many blunders were committed by both sides that these wars\r
+could not be called wars, they did not accord with the theory, and\r
+therefore could not serve as material for science.\r
+\r
+In 1806 Pfuel had been one of those responsible, for the plan of\r
+campaign that ended in Jena and Auerstadt, but he did not see the least\r
+proof of the fallibility of his theory in the disasters of that war. On\r
+the contrary, the deviations made from his theory were, in his opinion,\r
+the sole cause of the whole disaster, and with characteristically\r
+gleeful sarcasm he would remark, "There, I said the whole affair would\r
+go to the devil!" Pfuel was one of those theoreticians who so love their\r
+theory that they lose sight of the theory's object--its practical\r
+application. His love of theory made him hate everything practical, and\r
+he would not listen to it. He was even pleased by failures, for failures\r
+resulting from deviations in practice from the theory only proved to him\r
+the accuracy of his theory.\r
+\r
+He said a few words to Prince Andrew and Chernyshev about the present\r
+war, with the air of a man who knows beforehand that all will go wrong,\r
+and who is not displeased that it should be so. The unbrushed tufts of\r
+hair sticking up behind and the hastily brushed hair on his temples\r
+expressed this most eloquently.\r
+\r
+He passed into the next room, and the deep, querulous sounds of his\r
+voice were at once heard from there.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew's eyes were still following Pfuel out of the room when\r
+Count Bennigsen entered hurriedly, and nodding to Bolkonski, but not\r
+pausing, went into the study, giving instructions to his adjutant as he\r
+went. The Emperor was following him, and Bennigsen had hastened on to\r
+make some preparations and to be ready to receive the sovereign.\r
+Chernyshev and Prince Andrew went out into the porch, where the Emperor,\r
+who looked fatigued, was dismounting. Marquis Paulucci was talking to\r
+him with particular warmth and the Emperor, with his head bent to the\r
+left, was listening with a dissatisfied air. The Emperor moved forward\r
+evidently wishing to end the conversation, but the flushed and excited\r
+Italian, oblivious of decorum, followed him and continued to speak.\r
+\r
+"And as for the man who advised forming this camp--the Drissa camp,"\r
+said Paulucci, as the Emperor mounted the steps and noticing Prince\r
+Andrew scanned his unfamiliar face, "as to that person, sire..."\r
+continued Paulucci, desperately, apparently unable to restrain himself,\r
+"the man who advised the Drissa camp--I see no alternative but the\r
+lunatic asylum or the gallows!"\r
+\r
+Without heeding the end of the Italian's remarks, and as though not\r
+hearing them, the Emperor, recognizing Bolkonski, addressed him\r
+graciously.\r
+\r
+"I am very glad to see you! Go in there where they are meeting, and wait\r
+for me."\r
+\r
+The Emperor went into the study. He was followed by Prince Peter\r
+Mikhaylovich Volkonski and Baron Stein, and the door closed behind them.\r
+Prince Andrew, taking advantage of the Emperor's permission, accompanied\r
+Paulucci, whom he had known in Turkey, into the drawing room where the\r
+council was assembled.\r
+\r
+Prince Peter Mikhaylovich Volkonski occupied the position, as it were,\r
+of chief of the Emperor's staff. He came out of the study into the\r
+drawing room with some maps which he spread on a table, and put\r
+questions on which he wished to hear the opinion of the gentlemen\r
+present. What had happened was that news (which afterwards proved to be\r
+false) had been received during the night of a movement by the French to\r
+outflank the Drissa camp.\r
+\r
+The first to speak was General Armfeldt who, to meet the difficulty that\r
+presented itself, unexpectedly proposed a perfectly new position away\r
+from the Petersburg and Moscow roads. The reason for this was\r
+inexplicable (unless he wished to show that he, too, could have an\r
+opinion), but he urged that at this point the army should unite and\r
+there await the enemy. It was plain that Armfeldt had thought out that\r
+plan long ago and now expounded it not so much to answer the questions\r
+put--which, in fact, his plan did not answer--as to avail himself of the\r
+opportunity to air it. It was one of the millions of proposals, one as\r
+good as another, that could be made as long as it was quite unknown what\r
+character the war would take. Some disputed his arguments, others\r
+defended them. Young Count Toll objected to the Swedish general's views\r
+more warmly than anyone else, and in the course of the dispute drew from\r
+his side pocket a well-filled notebook, which he asked permission to\r
+read to them. In these voluminous notes Toll suggested another scheme,\r
+totally different from Armfeldt's or Pfuel's plan of campaign. In answer\r
+to Toll, Paulucci suggested an advance and an attack, which, he urged,\r
+could alone extricate us from the present uncertainty and from the trap\r
+(as he called the Drissa camp) in which we were situated.\r
+\r
+During all these discussions Pfuel and his interpreter, Wolzogen (his\r
+"bridge" in court relations), were silent. Pfuel only snorted\r
+contemptuously and turned away, to show that he would never demean\r
+himself by replying to such nonsense as he was now hearing. So when\r
+Prince Volkonski, who was in the chair, called on him to give his\r
+opinion, he merely said:\r
+\r
+"Why ask me? General Armfeldt has proposed a splendid position with an\r
+exposed rear, or why not this Italian gentleman's attack--very fine, or\r
+a retreat, also good! Why ask me?" said he. "Why, you yourselves know\r
+everything better than I do."\r
+\r
+But when Volkonski said, with a frown, that it was in the Emperor's name\r
+that he asked his opinion, Pfuel rose and, suddenly growing animated,\r
+began to speak:\r
+\r
+"Everything has been spoiled, everything muddled, everybody thought they\r
+knew better than I did, and now you come to me! How mend matters? There\r
+is nothing to mend! The principles laid down by me must be strictly\r
+adhered to," said he, drumming on the table with his bony fingers. "What\r
+is the difficulty? Nonsense, childishness!"\r
+\r
+He went up to the map and speaking rapidly began proving that no\r
+eventuality could alter the efficiency of the Drissa camp, that\r
+everything had been foreseen, and that if the enemy were really going to\r
+outflank it, the enemy would inevitably be destroyed.\r
+\r
+Paulucci, who did not know German, began questioning him in French.\r
+Wolzogen came to the assistance of his chief, who spoke French badly,\r
+and began translating for him, hardly able to keep pace with Pfuel, who\r
+was rapidly demonstrating that not only all that had happened, but all\r
+that could happen, had been foreseen in his scheme, and that if there\r
+were now any difficulties the whole fault lay in the fact that his plan\r
+had not been precisely executed. He kept laughing sarcastically, he\r
+demonstrated, and at last contemptuously ceased to demonstrate, like a\r
+mathematician who ceases to prove in various ways the accuracy of a\r
+problem that has already been proved. Wolzogen took his place and\r
+continued to explain his views in French, every now and then turning to\r
+Pfuel and saying, "Is it not so, your excellency?" But Pfuel, like a man\r
+heated in a fight who strikes those on his own side, shouted angrily at\r
+his own supporter, Wolzogen:\r
+\r
+"Well, of course, what more is there to explain?"\r
+\r
+Paulucci and Michaud both attacked Wolzogen simultaneously in French.\r
+Armfeldt addressed Pfuel in German. Toll explained to Volkonski in\r
+Russian. Prince Andrew listened and observed in silence.\r
+\r
+Of all these men Prince Andrew sympathized most with Pfuel, angry,\r
+determined, and absurdly self-confident as he was. Of all those present,\r
+evidently he alone was not seeking anything for himself, nursed no\r
+hatred against anyone, and only desired that the plan, formed on a\r
+theory arrived at by years of toil, should be carried out. He was\r
+ridiculous, and unpleasantly sarcastic, but yet he inspired involuntary\r
+respect by his boundless devotion to an idea. Besides this, the remarks\r
+of all except Pfuel had one common trait that had not been noticeable at\r
+the council of war in 1805: there was now a panic fear of Napoleon's\r
+genius, which, though concealed, was noticeable in every rejoinder.\r
+Everything was assumed to be possible for Napoleon, they expected him\r
+from every side, and invoked his terrible name to shatter each other's\r
+proposals. Pfuel alone seemed to consider Napoleon a barbarian like\r
+everyone else who opposed his theory. But besides this feeling of\r
+respect, Pfuel evoked pity in Prince Andrew. From the tone in which the\r
+courtiers addressed him and the way Paulucci had allowed himself to\r
+speak of him to the Emperor, but above all from a certain desperation in\r
+Pfuel's own expressions, it was clear that the others knew, and Pfuel\r
+himself felt, that his fall was at hand. And despite his self-confidence\r
+and grumpy German sarcasm he was pitiable, with his hair smoothly\r
+brushed on the temples and sticking up in tufts behind. Though he\r
+concealed the fact under a show of irritation and contempt, he was\r
+evidently in despair that the sole remaining chance of verifying his\r
+theory by a huge experiment and proving its soundness to the whole world\r
+was slipping away from him.\r
+\r
+The discussions continued a long time, and the longer they lasted the\r
+more heated became the disputes, culminating in shouts and\r
+personalities, and the less was it possible to arrive at any general\r
+conclusion from all that had been said. Prince Andrew, listening to this\r
+polyglot talk and to these surmises, plans, refutations, and shouts,\r
+felt nothing but amazement at what they were saying. A thought that had\r
+long since and often occurred to him during his military activities--the\r
+idea that there is not and cannot be any science of war, and that\r
+therefore there can be no such thing as a military genius--now appeared\r
+to him an obvious truth. "What theory and science is possible about a\r
+matter the conditions and circumstances of which are unknown and cannot\r
+be defined, especially when the strength of the acting forces cannot be\r
+ascertained? No one was or is able to foresee in what condition our or\r
+the enemy's armies will be in a day's time, and no one can gauge the\r
+force of this or that detachment. Sometimes--when there is not a coward\r
+at the front to shout, 'We are cut off!' and start running, but a brave\r
+and jolly lad who shouts, 'Hurrah!'--a detachment of five thousand is\r
+worth thirty thousand, as at Schon Grabern, while at times fifty\r
+thousand run from eight thousand, as at Austerlitz. What science can\r
+there be in a matter in which, as in all practical matters, nothing can\r
+be defined and everything depends on innumerable conditions, the\r
+significance of which is determined at a particular moment which arrives\r
+no one knows when? Armfeldt says our army is cut in half, and Paulucci\r
+says we have got the French army between two fires; Michaud says that\r
+the worthlessness of the Drissa camp lies in having the river behind it,\r
+and Pfuel says that is what constitutes its strength; Toll proposes one\r
+plan, Armfeldt another, and they are all good and all bad, and the\r
+advantages of any suggestions can be seen only at the moment of trial.\r
+And why do they all speak of a 'military genius'? Is a man a genius who\r
+can order bread to be brought up at the right time and say who is to go\r
+to the right and who to the left? It is only because military men are\r
+invested with pomp and power and crowds of sychophants flatter power,\r
+attributing to it qualities of genius it does not possess. The best\r
+generals I have known were, on the contrary, stupid or absent-minded\r
+men. Bagration was the best, Napoleon himself admitted that. And of\r
+Bonaparte himself! I remember his limited, self-satisfied face on the\r
+field of Austerlitz. Not only does a good army commander not need any\r
+special qualities, on the contrary he needs the absence of the highest\r
+and best human attributes--love, poetry, tenderness, and philosophic\r
+inquiring doubt. He should be limited, firmly convinced that what he is\r
+doing is very important (otherwise he will not have sufficient\r
+patience), and only then will he be a brave leader. God forbid that he\r
+should be humane, should love, or pity, or think of what is just and\r
+unjust. It is understandable that a theory of their 'genius' was\r
+invented for them long ago because they have power! The success of a\r
+military action depends not on them, but on the man in the ranks who\r
+shouts, 'We are lost!' or who shouts, 'Hurrah!' And only in the ranks\r
+can one serve with assurance of being useful."\r
+\r
+So thought Prince Andrew as he listened to the talking, and he roused\r
+himself only when Paulucci called him and everyone was leaving.\r
+\r
+At the review next day the Emperor asked Prince Andrew where he would\r
+like to serve, and Prince Andrew lost his standing in court circles\r
+forever by not asking to remain attached to the sovereign's person, but\r
+for permission to serve in the army.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+Before the beginning of the campaign, Rostov had received a letter from\r
+his parents in which they told him briefly of Natasha's illness and the\r
+breaking off of her engagement to Prince Andrew (which they explained by\r
+Natasha's having rejected him) and again asked Nicholas to retire from\r
+the army and return home. On receiving this letter, Nicholas did not\r
+even make any attempt to get leave of absence or to retire from the\r
+army, but wrote to his parents that he was sorry Natasha was ill and her\r
+engagement broken off, and that he would do all he could to meet their\r
+wishes. To Sonya he wrote separately.\r
+\r
+"Adored friend of my soul!" he wrote. "Nothing but honor could keep me\r
+from returning to the country. But now, at the commencement of the\r
+campaign, I should feel dishonored, not only in my comrades' eyes but in\r
+my own, if I preferred my own happiness to my love and duty to the\r
+Fatherland. But this shall be our last separation. Believe me, directly\r
+the war is over, if I am still alive and still loved by you, I will\r
+throw up everything and fly to you, to press you forever to my ardent\r
+breast."\r
+\r
+It was, in fact, only the commencement of the campaign that prevented\r
+Rostov from returning home as he had promised and marrying Sonya. The\r
+autumn in Otradnoe with the hunting, and the winter with the Christmas\r
+holidays and Sonya's love, had opened out to him a vista of tranquil\r
+rural joys and peace such as he had never known before, and which now\r
+allured him. "A splendid wife, children, a good pack of hounds, a dozen\r
+leashes of smart borzois, agriculture, neighbors, service by\r
+election..." thought he. But now the campaign was beginning, and he had\r
+to remain with his regiment. And since it had to be so, Nicholas Rostov,\r
+as was natural to him, felt contented with the life he led in the\r
+regiment and was able to find pleasure in that life.\r
+\r
+On his return from his furlough Nicholas, having been joyfully welcomed\r
+by his comrades, was sent to obtain remounts and brought back from the\r
+Ukraine excellent horses which pleased him and earned him commendation\r
+from his commanders. During his absence he had been promoted captain,\r
+and when the regiment was put on war footing with an increase in\r
+numbers, he was again allotted his old squadron.\r
+\r
+The campaign began, the regiment was moved into Poland on double pay,\r
+new officers arrived, new men and horses, and above all everybody was\r
+infected with the merrily excited mood that goes with the commencement\r
+of a war, and Rostov, conscious of his advantageous position in the\r
+regiment, devoted himself entirely to the pleasures and interests of\r
+military service, though he knew that sooner or later he would have to\r
+relinquish them.\r
+\r
+The troops retired from Vilna for various complicated reasons of state,\r
+political and strategic. Each step of the retreat was accompanied by a\r
+complicated interplay of interests, arguments, and passions at\r
+headquarters. For the Pavlograd hussars, however, the whole of this\r
+retreat during the finest period of summer and with sufficient supplies\r
+was a very simple and agreeable business.\r
+\r
+It was only at headquarters that there was depression, uneasiness, and\r
+intriguing; in the body of the army they did not ask themselves where\r
+they were going or why. If they regretted having to retreat, it was only\r
+because they had to leave billets they had grown accustomed to, or some\r
+pretty young Polish lady. If the thought that things looked bad chanced\r
+to enter anyone's head, he tried to be as cheerful as befits a good\r
+soldier and not to think of the general trend of affairs, but only of\r
+the task nearest to hand. First they camped gaily before Vilna, making\r
+acquaintance with the Polish landowners, preparing for reviews and being\r
+reviewed by the Emperor and other high commanders. Then came an order to\r
+retreat to Sventsyani and destroy any provisions they could not carry\r
+away with them. Sventsyani was remembered by the hussars only as the\r
+drunken camp, a name the whole army gave to their encampment there, and\r
+because many complaints were made against the troops, who, taking\r
+advantage of the order to collect provisions, took also horses,\r
+carriages, and carpets from the Polish proprietors. Rostov remembered\r
+Sventsyani, because on the first day of their arrival at that small town\r
+he changed his sergeant major and was unable to manage all the drunken\r
+men of his squadron who, unknown to him, had appropriated five barrels\r
+of old beer. From Sventsyani they retired farther and farther to Drissa,\r
+and thence again beyond Drissa, drawing near to the frontier of Russia\r
+proper.\r
+\r
+On the thirteenth of July the Pavlograds took part in a serious action\r
+for the first time.\r
+\r
+On the twelfth of July, on the eve of that action, there was a heavy\r
+storm of rain and hail. In general, the summer of 1812 was remarkable\r
+for its storms.\r
+\r
+The two Pavlograd squadrons were bivouacking on a field of rye, which\r
+was already in ear but had been completely trodden down by cattle and\r
+horses. The rain was descending in torrents, and Rostov, with a young\r
+officer named Ilyin, his protege, was sitting in a hastily constructed\r
+shelter. An officer of their regiment, with long mustaches extending\r
+onto his cheeks, who after riding to the staff had been overtaken by the\r
+rain, entered Rostov's shelter.\r
+\r
+"I have come from the staff, Count. Have you heard of Raevski's\r
+exploit?"\r
+\r
+And the officer gave them details of the Saltanov battle, which he had\r
+heard at the staff.\r
+\r
+Rostov, smoking his pipe and turning his head about as the water\r
+trickled down his neck, listened inattentively, with an occasional\r
+glance at Ilyin, who was pressing close to him. This officer, a lad of\r
+sixteen who had recently joined the regiment, was now in the same\r
+relation to Nicholas that Nicholas had been to Denisov seven years\r
+before. Ilyin tried to imitate Rostov in everything and adored him as a\r
+girl might have done.\r
+\r
+Zdrzhinski, the officer with the long mustache, spoke grandiloquently of\r
+the Saltanov dam being "a Russian Thermopylae," and of how a deed worthy\r
+of antiquity had been performed by General Raevski. He recounted how\r
+Raevski had led his two sons onto the dam under terrific fire and had\r
+charged with them beside him. Rostov heard the story and not only said\r
+nothing to encourage Zdrzhinski's enthusiasm but, on the contrary,\r
+looked like a man ashamed of what he was hearing, though with no\r
+intention of contradicting it. Since the campaigns of Austerlitz and of\r
+1807 Rostov knew by experience that men always lie when describing\r
+military exploits, as he himself had done when recounting them; besides\r
+that, he had experience enough to know that nothing happens in war at\r
+all as we can imagine or relate it. And so he did not like Zdrzhinski's\r
+tale, nor did he like Zdrzhinski himself who, with his mustaches\r
+extending over his cheeks, bent low over the face of his hearer, as was\r
+his habit, and crowded Rostov in the narrow shanty. Rostov looked at him\r
+in silence. "In the first place, there must have been such a confusion\r
+and crowding on the dam that was being attacked that if Raevski did lead\r
+his sons there, it could have had no effect except perhaps on some dozen\r
+men nearest to him," thought he, "the rest could not have seen how or\r
+with whom Raevski came onto the dam. And even those who did see it would\r
+not have been much stimulated by it, for what had they to do with\r
+Raevski's tender paternal feelings when their own skins were in danger?\r
+And besides, the fate of the Fatherland did not depend on whether they\r
+took the Saltanov dam or not, as we are told was the case at\r
+Thermopylae. So why should he have made such a sacrifice? And why expose\r
+his own children in the battle? I would not have taken my brother Petya\r
+there, or even Ilyin, who's a stranger to me but a nice lad, but would\r
+have tried to put them somewhere under cover," Nicholas continued to\r
+think, as he listened to Zdrzhinski. But he did not express his\r
+thoughts, for in such matters, too, he had gained experience. He knew\r
+that this tale redounded to the glory of our arms and so one had to\r
+pretend not to doubt it. And he acted accordingly.\r
+\r
+"I can't stand this any more," said Ilyin, noticing that Rostov did not\r
+relish Zdrzhinski's conversation. "My stockings and shirt... and the\r
+water is running on my seat! I'll go and look for shelter. The rain\r
+seems less heavy."\r
+\r
+Ilyin went out and Zdrzhinski rode away.\r
+\r
+Five minutes later Ilyin, splashing through the mud, came running back\r
+to the shanty.\r
+\r
+"Hurrah! Rostov, come quick! I've found it! About two hundred yards away\r
+there's a tavern where ours have already gathered. We can at least get\r
+dry there, and Mary Hendrikhovna's there."\r
+\r
+Mary Hendrikhovna was the wife of the regimental doctor, a pretty young\r
+German woman he had married in Poland. The doctor, whether from lack of\r
+means or because he did not like to part from his young wife in the\r
+early days of their marriage, took her about with him wherever the\r
+hussar regiment went and his jealousy had become a standing joke among\r
+the hussar officers.\r
+\r
+Rostov threw his cloak over his shoulders, shouted to Lavrushka to\r
+follow with the things, and--now slipping in the mud, now splashing\r
+right through it--set off with Ilyin in the lessening rain and the\r
+darkness that was occasionally rent by distant lightning.\r
+\r
+"Rostov, where are you?"\r
+\r
+"Here. What lightning!" they called to one another.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIII\r
+\r
+In the tavern, before which stood the doctor's covered cart, there were\r
+already some five officers. Mary Hendrikhovna, a plump little blonde\r
+German, in a dressing jacket and nightcap, was sitting on a broad bench\r
+in the front corner. Her husband, the doctor, lay asleep behind her.\r
+Rostov and Ilyin, on entering the room, were welcomed with merry shouts\r
+and laughter.\r
+\r
+"Dear me, how jolly we are!" said Rostov laughing.\r
+\r
+"And why do you stand there gaping?"\r
+\r
+"What swells they are! Why, the water streams from them! Don't make our\r
+drawing room so wet."\r
+\r
+"Don't mess Mary Hendrikhovna's dress!" cried other voices.\r
+\r
+Rostov and Ilyin hastened to find a corner where they could change into\r
+dry clothes without offending Mary Hendrikhovna's modesty. They were\r
+going into a tiny recess behind a partition to change, but found it\r
+completely filled by three officers who sat playing cards by the light\r
+of a solitary candle on an empty box, and these officers would on no\r
+account yield their position. Mary Hendrikhovna obliged them with the\r
+loan of a petticoat to be used as a curtain, and behind that screen\r
+Rostov and Ilyin, helped by Lavrushka who had brought their kits,\r
+changed their wet things for dry ones.\r
+\r
+A fire was made up in the dilapidated brick stove. A board was found,\r
+fixed on two saddles and covered with a horsecloth, a small samovar was\r
+produced and a cellaret and half a bottle of rum, and having asked Mary\r
+Hendrikhovna to preside, they all crowded round her. One offered her a\r
+clean handkerchief to wipe her charming hands, another spread a jacket\r
+under her little feet to keep them from the damp, another hung his coat\r
+over the window to keep out the draft, and yet another waved the flies\r
+off her husband's face, lest he should wake up.\r
+\r
+"Leave him alone," said Mary Hendrikhovna, smiling timidly and happily.\r
+"He is sleeping well as it is, after a sleepless night."\r
+\r
+"Oh, no, Mary Hendrikhovna," replied the officer, "one must look after\r
+the doctor. Perhaps he'll take pity on me someday, when it comes to\r
+cutting off a leg or an arm for me."\r
+\r
+There were only three tumblers, the water was so muddy that one could\r
+not make out whether the tea was strong or weak, and the samovar held\r
+only six tumblers of water, but this made it all the pleasanter to take\r
+turns in order of seniority to receive one's tumbler from Mary\r
+Hendrikhovna's plump little hands with their short and not overclean\r
+nails. All the officers appeared to be, and really were, in love with\r
+her that evening. Even those playing cards behind the partition soon\r
+left their game and came over to the samovar, yielding to the general\r
+mood of courting Mary Hendrikhovna. She, seeing herself surrounded by\r
+such brilliant and polite young men, beamed with satisfaction, try as\r
+she might to hide it, and perturbed as she evidently was each time her\r
+husband moved in his sleep behind her.\r
+\r
+There was only one spoon, sugar was more plentiful than anything else,\r
+but it took too long to dissolve, so it was decided that Mary\r
+Hendrikhovna should stir the sugar for everyone in turn. Rostov received\r
+his tumbler, and adding some rum to it asked Mary Hendrikhovna to stir\r
+it.\r
+\r
+"But you take it without sugar?" she said, smiling all the time, as if\r
+everything she said and everything the others said was very amusing and\r
+had a double meaning.\r
+\r
+"It is not the sugar I want, but only that your little hand should stir\r
+my tea."\r
+\r
+Mary Hendrikhovna assented and began looking for the spoon which someone\r
+meanwhile had pounced on.\r
+\r
+"Use your finger, Mary Hendrikhovna, it will be still nicer," said\r
+Rostov.\r
+\r
+"Too hot!" she replied, blushing with pleasure.\r
+\r
+Ilyin put a few drops of rum into the bucket of water and brought it to\r
+Mary Hendrikhovna, asking her to stir it with her finger.\r
+\r
+"This is my cup," said he. "Only dip your finger in it and I'll drink it\r
+all up."\r
+\r
+When they had emptied the samovar, Rostov took a pack of cards and\r
+proposed that they should play "Kings" with Mary Hendrikhovna. They drew\r
+lots to settle who should make up her set. At Rostov's suggestion it was\r
+agreed that whoever became "King" should have the right to kiss Mary\r
+Hendrikhovna's hand, and that the "Booby" should go to refill and reheat\r
+the samovar for the doctor when the latter awoke.\r
+\r
+"Well, but supposing Mary Hendrikhovna is 'King'?" asked Ilyin.\r
+\r
+"As it is, she is Queen, and her word is law!"\r
+\r
+They had hardly begun to play before the doctor's disheveled head\r
+suddenly appeared from behind Mary Hendrikhovna. He had been awake for\r
+some time, listening to what was being said, and evidently found nothing\r
+entertaining or amusing in what was going on. His face was sad and\r
+depressed. Without greeting the officers, he scratched himself and asked\r
+to be allowed to pass as they were blocking the way. As soon as he had\r
+left the room all the officers burst into loud laughter and Mary\r
+Hendrikhovna blushed till her eyes filled with tears and thereby became\r
+still more attractive to them. Returning from the yard, the doctor told\r
+his wife (who had ceased to smile so happily, and looked at him in\r
+alarm, awaiting her sentence) that the rain had ceased and they must go\r
+to sleep in their covered cart, or everything in it would be stolen.\r
+\r
+"But I'll send an orderly.... Two of them!" said Rostov. "What an idea,\r
+doctor!"\r
+\r
+"I'll stand guard on it myself!" said Ilyin.\r
+\r
+"No, gentlemen, you have had your sleep, but I have not slept for two\r
+nights," replied the doctor, and he sat down morosely beside his wife,\r
+waiting for the game to end.\r
+\r
+Seeing his gloomy face as he frowned at his wife, the officers grew\r
+still merrier, and some of them could not refrain from laughter, for\r
+which they hurriedly sought plausible pretexts. When he had gone, taking\r
+his wife with him, and had settled down with her in their covered cart,\r
+the officers lay down in the tavern, covering themselves with their wet\r
+cloaks, but they did not sleep for a long time; now they exchanged\r
+remarks, recalling the doctor's uneasiness and his wife's delight, now\r
+they ran out into the porch and reported what was taking place in the\r
+covered trap. Several times Rostov, covering his head, tried to go to\r
+sleep, but some remark would arouse him and conversation would be\r
+resumed, to the accompaniment of unreasoning, merry, childlike laughter.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIV\r
+\r
+It was nearly three o'clock but no one was yet asleep, when the\r
+quartermaster appeared with an order to move on to the little town of\r
+Ostrovna. Still laughing and talking, the officers began hurriedly\r
+getting ready and again boiled some muddy water in the samovar. But\r
+Rostov went off to his squadron without waiting for tea. Day was\r
+breaking, the rain had ceased, and the clouds were dispersing. It felt\r
+damp and cold, especially in clothes that were still moist. As they left\r
+the tavern in the twilight of the dawn, Rostov and Ilyin both glanced\r
+under the wet and glistening leather hood of the doctor's cart, from\r
+under the apron of which his feet were sticking out, and in the middle\r
+of which his wife's nightcap was visible and her sleepy breathing\r
+audible.\r
+\r
+"She really is a dear little thing," said Rostov to Ilyin, who was\r
+following him.\r
+\r
+"A charming woman!" said Ilyin, with all the gravity of a boy of\r
+sixteen.\r
+\r
+Half an hour later the squadron was lined up on the road. The command\r
+was heard to "mount" and the soldiers crossed themselves and mounted.\r
+Rostov riding in front gave the order "Forward!" and the hussars, with\r
+clanking sabers and subdued talk, their horses' hoofs splashing in the\r
+mud, defiled in fours and moved along the broad road planted with birch\r
+trees on each side, following the infantry and a battery that had gone\r
+on in front.\r
+\r
+Tattered, blue-purple clouds, reddening in the east, were scudding\r
+before the wind. It was growing lighter and lighter. That curly grass\r
+which always grows by country roadsides became clearly visible, still\r
+wet with the night's rain; the drooping branches of the birches, also\r
+wet, swayed in the wind and flung down bright drops of water to one\r
+side. The soldiers' faces were more and more clearly visible. Rostov,\r
+always closely followed by Ilyin, rode along the side of the road\r
+between two rows of birch trees.\r
+\r
+When campaigning, Rostov allowed himself the indulgence of riding not a\r
+regimental but a Cossack horse. A judge of horses and a sportsman, he\r
+had lately procured himself a large, fine, mettlesome, Donets horse,\r
+dun-colored, with light mane and tail, and when he rode it no one could\r
+outgallop him. To ride this horse was a pleasure to him, and he thought\r
+of the horse, of the morning, of the doctor's wife, but not once of the\r
+impending danger.\r
+\r
+Formerly, when going into action, Rostov had felt afraid; now he had not\r
+the least feeling of fear. He was fearless, not because he had grown\r
+used to being under fire (one cannot grow used to danger), but because\r
+he had learned how to manage his thoughts when in danger. He had grown\r
+accustomed when going into action to think about anything but what would\r
+seem most likely to interest him--the impending danger. During the first\r
+period of his service, hard as he tried and much as he reproached\r
+himself with cowardice, he had not been able to do this, but with time\r
+it had come of itself. Now he rode beside Ilyin under the birch trees,\r
+occasionally plucking leaves from a branch that met his hand, sometimes\r
+touching his horse's side with his foot, or, without turning round,\r
+handing a pipe he had finished to an hussar riding behind him, with as\r
+calm and careless an air as though he were merely out for a ride. He\r
+glanced with pity at the excited face of Ilyin, who talked much and in\r
+great agitation. He knew from experience the tormenting expectation of\r
+terror and death the cornet was suffering and knew that only time could\r
+help him.\r
+\r
+As soon as the sun appeared in a clear strip of sky beneath the clouds,\r
+the wind fell, as if it dared not spoil the beauty of the summer morning\r
+after the storm; drops still continued to fall, but vertically now, and\r
+all was still. The whole sun appeared on the horizon and disappeared\r
+behind a long narrow cloud that hung above it. A few minutes later it\r
+reappeared brighter still from behind the top of the cloud, tearing its\r
+edge. Everything grew bright and glittered. And with that light, and as\r
+if in reply to it, came the sound of guns ahead of them.\r
+\r
+Before Rostov had had time to consider and determine the distance of\r
+that firing, Count Ostermann-Tolstoy's adjutant came galloping from\r
+Vitebsk with orders to advance at a trot along the road.\r
+\r
+The squadron overtook and passed the infantry and the battery--which had\r
+also quickened their pace--rode down a hill, and passing through an\r
+empty and deserted village again ascended. The horses began to lather\r
+and the men to flush.\r
+\r
+"Halt! Dress your ranks!" the order of the regimental commander was\r
+heard ahead. "Forward by the left. Walk, march!" came the order from in\r
+front.\r
+\r
+And the hussars, passing along the line of troops on the left flank of\r
+our position, halted behind our uhlans who were in the front line. To\r
+the right stood our infantry in a dense column: they were the reserve.\r
+Higher up the hill, on the very horizon, our guns were visible through\r
+the wonderfully clear air, brightly illuminated by slanting morning\r
+sunbeams. In front, beyond a hollow dale, could be seen the enemy's\r
+columns and guns. Our advanced line, already in action, could be heard\r
+briskly exchanging shots with the enemy in the dale.\r
+\r
+At these sounds, long unheard, Rostov's spirits rose, as at the strains\r
+of the merriest music. Trap-ta-ta-tap! cracked the shots, now together,\r
+now several quickly one after another. Again all was silent and then\r
+again it sounded as if someone were walking on detonators and exploding\r
+them.\r
+\r
+The hussars remained in the same place for about an hour. A cannonade\r
+began. Count Ostermann with his suite rode up behind the squadron,\r
+halted, spoke to the commander of the regiment, and rode up the hill to\r
+the guns.\r
+\r
+After Ostermann had gone, a command rang out to the uhlans.\r
+\r
+"Form column! Prepare to charge!"\r
+\r
+The infantry in front of them parted into platoons to allow the cavalry\r
+to pass. The uhlans started, the streamers on their spears fluttering,\r
+and trotted downhill toward the French cavalry which was seen below to\r
+the left.\r
+\r
+As soon as the uhlans descended the hill, the hussars were ordered up\r
+the hill to support the battery. As they took the places vacated by the\r
+uhlans, bullets came from the front, whining and whistling, but fell\r
+spent without taking effect.\r
+\r
+The sounds, which he had not heard for so long, had an even more\r
+pleasurable and exhilarating effect on Rostov than the previous sounds\r
+of firing. Drawing himself up, he viewed the field of battle opening out\r
+before him from the hill, and with his whole soul followed the movement\r
+of the uhlans. They swooped down close to the French dragoons, something\r
+confused happened there amid the smoke, and five minutes later our\r
+uhlans were galloping back, not to the place they had occupied but more\r
+to the left, and among the orange-colored uhlans on chestnut horses and\r
+behind them, in a large group, blue French dragoons on gray horses could\r
+be seen.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XV\r
+\r
+Rostov, with his keen sportsman's eye, was one of the first to catch\r
+sight of these blue French dragoons pursuing our uhlans. Nearer and\r
+nearer in disorderly crowds came the uhlans and the French dragoons\r
+pursuing them. He could already see how these men, who looked so small\r
+at the foot of the hill, jostled and overtook one another, waving their\r
+arms and their sabers in the air.\r
+\r
+Rostov gazed at what was happening before him as at a hunt. He felt\r
+instinctively that if the hussars struck at the French dragoons now, the\r
+latter could not withstand them, but if a charge was to be made it must\r
+be done now, at that very moment, or it would be too late. He looked\r
+around. A captain, standing beside him, was gazing like himself with\r
+eyes fixed on the cavalry below them.\r
+\r
+"Andrew Sevastyanych!" said Rostov. "You know, we could crush them...."\r
+\r
+"A fine thing too!" replied the captain, "and really..."\r
+\r
+Rostov, without waiting to hear him out, touched his horse, galloped to\r
+the front of his squadron, and before he had time to finish giving the\r
+word of command, the whole squadron, sharing his feeling, was following\r
+him. Rostov himself did not know how or why he did it. He acted as he\r
+did when hunting, without reflecting or considering. He saw the dragoons\r
+near and that they were galloping in disorder; he knew they could not\r
+withstand an attack--knew there was only that moment and that if he let\r
+it slip it would not return. The bullets were whining and whistling so\r
+stimulatingly around him and his horse was so eager to go that he could\r
+not restrain himself. He touched his horse, gave the word of command,\r
+and immediately, hearing behind him the tramp of the horses of his\r
+deployed squadron, rode at full trot downhill toward the dragoons.\r
+Hardly had they reached the bottom of the hill before their pace\r
+instinctively changed to a gallop, which grew faster and faster as they\r
+drew nearer to our uhlans and the French dragoons who galloped after\r
+them. The dragoons were now close at hand. On seeing the hussars, the\r
+foremost began to turn, while those behind began to halt. With the same\r
+feeling with which he had galloped across the path of a wolf, Rostov\r
+gave rein to his Donets horse and galloped to intersect the path of the\r
+dragoons' disordered lines. One Uhlan stopped, another who was on foot\r
+flung himself to the ground to avoid being knocked over, and a riderless\r
+horse fell in among the hussars. Nearly all the French dragoons were\r
+galloping back. Rostov, picking out one on a gray horse, dashed after\r
+him. On the way he came upon a bush, his gallant horse cleared it, and\r
+almost before he had righted himself in his saddle he saw that he would\r
+immediately overtake the enemy he had selected. That Frenchman, by his\r
+uniform an officer, was going at a gallop, crouching on his gray horse\r
+and urging it on with his saber. In another moment Rostov's horse dashed\r
+its breast against the hindquarters of the officer's horse, almost\r
+knocking it over, and at the same instant Rostov, without knowing why,\r
+raised his saber and struck the Frenchman with it.\r
+\r
+The instant he had done this, all Rostov's animation vanished. The\r
+officer fell, not so much from the blow--which had but slightly cut his\r
+arm above the elbow--as from the shock to his horse and from fright.\r
+Rostov reined in his horse, and his eyes sought his foe to see whom he\r
+had vanquished. The French dragoon officer was hopping with one foot on\r
+the ground, the other being caught in the stirrup. His eyes, screwed up\r
+with fear as if he every moment expected another blow, gazed up at\r
+Rostov with shrinking terror. His pale and mud-stained face--fair and\r
+young, with a dimple in the chin and light-blue eyes--was not an enemy's\r
+face at all suited to a battlefield, but a most ordinary, homelike face.\r
+Before Rostov had decided what to do with him, the officer cried, "I\r
+surrender!" He hurriedly but vainly tried to get his foot out of the\r
+stirrup and did not remove his frightened blue eyes from Rostov's face.\r
+Some hussars who galloped up disengaged his foot and helped him into the\r
+saddle. On all sides, the hussars were busy with the dragoons; one was\r
+wounded, but though his face was bleeding, he would not give up his\r
+horse; another was perched up behind an hussar with his arms round him;\r
+a third was being helped by an hussar to mount his horse. In front, the\r
+French infantry were firing as they ran. The hussars galloped hastily\r
+back with their prisoners. Rostov galloped back with the rest, aware of\r
+an unpleasant feeling of depression in his heart. Something vague and\r
+confused, which he could not at all account for, had come over him with\r
+the capture of that officer and the blow he had dealt him.\r
+\r
+Count Ostermann-Tolstoy met the returning hussars, sent for Rostov,\r
+thanked him, and said he would report his gallant deed to the Emperor\r
+and would recommend him for a St. George's Cross. When sent for by Count\r
+Ostermann, Rostov, remembering that he had charged without orders, felt\r
+sure his commander was sending for him to punish him for breach of\r
+discipline. Ostermann's flattering words and promise of a reward should\r
+therefore have struck him all the more pleasantly, but he still felt\r
+that same vaguely disagreeable feeling of moral nausea. "But what on\r
+earth is worrying me?" he asked himself as he rode back from the\r
+general. "Ilyin? No, he's safe. Have I disgraced myself in any way? No,\r
+that's not it." Something else, resembling remorse, tormented him. "Yes,\r
+oh yes, that French officer with the dimple. And I remember how my arm\r
+paused when I raised it."\r
+\r
+Rostov saw the prisoners being led away and galloped after them to have\r
+a look at his Frenchman with the dimple on his chin. He was sitting in\r
+his foreign uniform on an hussar packhorse and looked anxiously about\r
+him; The sword cut on his arm could scarcely be called a wound. He\r
+glanced at Rostov with a feigned smile and waved his hand in greeting.\r
+Rostov still had the same indefinite feeling, as of shame.\r
+\r
+All that day and the next his friends and comrades noticed that Rostov,\r
+without being dull or angry, was silent, thoughtful, and preoccupied. He\r
+drank reluctantly, tried to remain alone, and kept turning something\r
+over in his mind.\r
+\r
+Rostov was always thinking about that brilliant exploit of his, which to\r
+his amazement had gained him the St. George's Cross and even given him a\r
+reputation for bravery, and there was something he could not at all\r
+understand. "So others are even more afraid than I am!" he thought. "So\r
+that's all there is in what is called heroism! And did I do it for my\r
+country's sake? And how was he to blame, with his dimple and blue eyes?\r
+And how frightened he was! He thought that I should kill him. Why should\r
+I kill him? My hand trembled. And they have given me a St. George's\r
+Cross.... I can't make it out at all."\r
+\r
+But while Nicholas was considering these questions and still could reach\r
+no clear solution of what puzzled him so, the wheel of fortune in the\r
+service, as often happens, turned in his favor. After the affair at\r
+Ostrovna he was brought into notice, received command of an hussar\r
+battalion, and when a brave officer was needed he was chosen.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVI\r
+\r
+On receiving news of Natasha's illness, the countess, though not quite\r
+well yet and still weak, went to Moscow with Petya and the rest of the\r
+household, and the whole family moved from Marya Dmitrievna's house to\r
+their own and settled down in town.\r
+\r
+Natasha's illness was so serious that, fortunately for her and for her\r
+parents, the consideration of all that had caused the illness, her\r
+conduct and the breaking off of her engagement, receded into the\r
+background. She was so ill that it was impossible for them to consider\r
+in how far she was to blame for what had happened. She could not eat or\r
+sleep, grew visibly thinner, coughed, and, as the doctors made them\r
+feel, was in danger. They could not think of anything but how to help\r
+her. Doctors came to see her singly and in consultation, talked much in\r
+French, German, and Latin, blamed one another, and prescribed a great\r
+variety of medicines for all the diseases known to them, but the simple\r
+idea never occurred to any of them that they could not know the disease\r
+Natasha was suffering from, as no disease suffered by a live man can be\r
+known, for every living person has his own peculiarities and always has\r
+his own peculiar, personal, novel, complicated disease, unknown to\r
+medicine--not a disease of the lungs, liver, skin, heart, nerves, and so\r
+on mentioned in medical books, but a disease consisting of one of the\r
+innumerable combinations of the maladies of those organs. This simple\r
+thought could not occur to the doctors (as it cannot occur to a wizard\r
+that he is unable to work his charms) because the business of their\r
+lives was to cure, and they received money for it and had spent the best\r
+years of their lives on that business. But, above all, that thought was\r
+kept out of their minds by the fact that they saw they were really\r
+useful, as in fact they were to the whole Rostov family. Their\r
+usefulness did not depend on making the patient swallow substances for\r
+the most part harmful (the harm was scarcely perceptible, as they were\r
+given in small doses), but they were useful, necessary, and\r
+indispensable because they satisfied a mental need of the invalid and of\r
+those who loved her--and that is why there are, and always will be,\r
+pseudo-healers, wise women, homeopaths, and allopaths. They satisfied\r
+that eternal human need for hope of relief, for sympathy, and that\r
+something should be done, which is felt by those who are suffering. They\r
+satisfied the need seen in its most elementary form in a child, when it\r
+wants to have a place rubbed that has been hurt. A child knocks itself\r
+and runs at once to the arms of its mother or nurse to have the aching\r
+spot rubbed or kissed, and it feels better when this is done. The child\r
+cannot believe that the strongest and wisest of its people have no\r
+remedy for its pain, and the hope of relief and the expression of its\r
+mother's sympathy while she rubs the bump comforts it. The doctors were\r
+of use to Natasha because they kissed and rubbed her bump, assuring her\r
+that it would soon pass if only the coachman went to the chemist's in\r
+the Arbat and got a powder and some pills in a pretty box for a ruble\r
+and seventy kopeks, and if she took those powders in boiled water at\r
+intervals of precisely two hours, neither more nor less.\r
+\r
+What would Sonya and the count and countess have done, how would they\r
+have looked, if nothing had been done, if there had not been those pills\r
+to give by the clock, the warm drinks, the chicken cutlets, and all the\r
+other details of life ordered by the doctors, the carrying out of which\r
+supplied an occupation and consolation to the family circle? How would\r
+the count have borne his dearly loved daughter's illness had he not\r
+known that it was costing him a thousand rubles, and that he would not\r
+grudge thousands more to benefit her, or had he not known that if her\r
+illness continued he would not grudge yet other thousands and would take\r
+her abroad for consultations there, and had he not been able to explain\r
+the details of how Metivier and Feller had not understood the symptoms,\r
+but Frise had, and Mudrov had diagnosed them even better? What would the\r
+countess have done had she not been able sometimes to scold the invalid\r
+for not strictly obeying the doctor's orders?\r
+\r
+"You'll never get well like that," she would say, forgetting her grief\r
+in her vexation, "if you won't obey the doctor and take your medicine at\r
+the right time! You mustn't trifle with it, you know, or it may turn to\r
+pneumonia," she would go on, deriving much comfort from the utterance of\r
+that foreign word, incomprehensible to others as well as to herself.\r
+\r
+What would Sonya have done without the glad consciousness that she had\r
+not undressed during the first three nights, in order to be ready to\r
+carry out all the doctor's injunctions with precision, and that she\r
+still kept awake at night so as not to miss the proper time when the\r
+slightly harmful pills in the little gilt box had to be administered?\r
+Even to Natasha herself it was pleasant to see that so many sacrifices\r
+were being made for her sake, and to know that she had to take medicine\r
+at certain hours, though she declared that no medicine would cure her\r
+and that it was all nonsense. And it was even pleasant to be able to\r
+show, by disregarding the orders, that she did not believe in medical\r
+treatment and did not value her life.\r
+\r
+The doctor came every day, felt her pulse, looked at her tongue, and\r
+regardless of her grief-stricken face joked with her. But when he had\r
+gone into another room, to which the countess hurriedly followed him, he\r
+assumed a grave air and thoughtfully shaking his head said that though\r
+there was danger, he had hopes of the effect of this last medicine and\r
+one must wait and see, that the malady was chiefly mental, but... And\r
+the countess, trying to conceal the action from herself and from him,\r
+slipped a gold coin into his hand and always returned to the patient\r
+with a more tranquil mind.\r
+\r
+The symptoms of Natasha's illness were that she ate little, slept\r
+little, coughed, and was always low-spirited. The doctors said that she\r
+could not get on without medical treatment, so they kept her in the\r
+stifling atmosphere of the town, and the Rostovs did not move to the\r
+country that summer of 1812.\r
+\r
+In spite of the many pills she swallowed and the drops and powders out\r
+of the little bottles and boxes of which Madame Schoss who was fond of\r
+such things made a large collection, and in spite of being deprived of\r
+the country life to which she was accustomed, youth prevailed. Natasha's\r
+grief began to be overlaid by the impressions of daily life, it ceased\r
+to press so painfully on her heart, it gradually faded into the past,\r
+and she began to recover physically.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVII\r
+\r
+Natasha was calmer but no happier. She not merely avoided all external\r
+forms of pleasure--balls, promenades, concerts, and theaters--but she\r
+never laughed without a sound of tears in her laughter. She could not\r
+sing. As soon as she began to laugh, or tried to sing by herself, tears\r
+choked her: tears of remorse, tears at the recollection of those pure\r
+times which could never return, tears of vexation that she should so\r
+uselessly have ruined her young life which might have been so happy.\r
+Laughter and singing in particular seemed to her like a blasphemy, in\r
+face of her sorrow. Without any need of self-restraint, no wish to\r
+coquet ever entered her head. She said and felt at that time that no man\r
+was more to her than Nastasya Ivanovna, the buffoon. Something stood\r
+sentinel within her and forbade her every joy. Besides, she had lost all\r
+the old interests of her carefree girlish life that had been so full of\r
+hope. The previous autumn, the hunting, "Uncle," and the Christmas\r
+holidays spent with Nicholas at Otradnoe were what she recalled oftenest\r
+and most painfully. What would she not have given to bring back even a\r
+single day of that time! But it was gone forever. Her presentiment at\r
+the time had not deceived her--that that state of freedom and readiness\r
+for any enjoyment would not return again. Yet it was necessary to live\r
+on.\r
+\r
+It comforted her to reflect that she was not better as she had formerly\r
+imagined, but worse, much worse, than anybody else in the world. But\r
+this was not enough. She knew that, and asked herself, "What next?" But\r
+there was nothing to come. There was no joy in life, yet life was\r
+passing. Natasha apparently tried not to be a burden or a hindrance to\r
+anyone, but wanted nothing for herself. She kept away from everyone in\r
+the house and felt at ease only with her brother Petya. She liked to be\r
+with him better than with the others, and when alone with him she\r
+sometimes laughed. She hardly ever left the house and of those who came\r
+to see them was glad to see only one person, Pierre. It would have been\r
+impossible to treat her with more delicacy, greater care, and at the\r
+same time more seriously than did Count Bezukhov. Natasha unconsciously\r
+felt this delicacy and so found great pleasure in his society. But she\r
+was not even grateful to him for it; nothing good on Pierre's part\r
+seemed to her to be an effort, it seemed so natural for him to be kind\r
+to everyone that there was no merit in his kindness. Sometimes Natasha\r
+noticed embarrassment and awkwardness on his part in her presence,\r
+especially when he wanted to do something to please her, or feared that\r
+something they spoke of would awaken memories distressing to her. She\r
+noticed this and attributed it to his general kindness and shyness,\r
+which she imagined must be the same toward everyone as it was to her.\r
+After those involuntary words--that if he were free he would have asked\r
+on his knees for her hand and her love--uttered at a moment when she was\r
+so strongly agitated, Pierre never spoke to Natasha of his feelings; and\r
+it seemed plain to her that those words, which had then so comforted\r
+her, were spoken as all sorts of meaningless words are spoken to comfort\r
+a crying child. It was not because Pierre was a married man, but because\r
+Natasha felt very strongly with him that moral barrier the absence of\r
+which she had experienced with Kuragin that it never entered her head\r
+that the relations between him and herself could lead to love on her\r
+part, still less on his, or even to the kind of tender, self-conscious,\r
+romantic friendship between a man and a woman of which she had known\r
+several instances.\r
+\r
+Before the end of the fast of St. Peter, Agrafena Ivanovna Belova, a\r
+country neighbor of the Rostovs, came to Moscow to pay her devotions at\r
+the shrines of the Moscow saints. She suggested that Natasha should fast\r
+and prepare for Holy Communion, and Natasha gladly welcomed the idea.\r
+Despite the doctor's orders that she should not go out early in the\r
+morning, Natasha insisted on fasting and preparing for the sacrament,\r
+not as they generally prepared for it in the Rostov family by attending\r
+three services in their own house, but as Agrafena Ivanovna did, by\r
+going to church every day for a week and not once missing Vespers,\r
+Matins, or Mass.\r
+\r
+The countess was pleased with Natasha's zeal; after the poor results of\r
+the medical treatment, in the depths of her heart she hoped that prayer\r
+might help her daughter more than medicines and, though not without fear\r
+and concealing it from the doctor, she agreed to Natasha's wish and\r
+entrusted her to Belova. Agrafena Ivanovna used to come to wake Natasha\r
+at three in the morning, but generally found her already awake. She was\r
+afraid of being late for Matins. Hastily washing, and meekly putting on\r
+her shabbiest dress and an old mantilla, Natasha, shivering in the fresh\r
+air, went out into the deserted streets lit by the clear light of dawn.\r
+By Agrafena Ivanovna's advice Natasha prepared herself not in their own\r
+parish, but at a church where, according to the devout Agrafena\r
+Ivanovna, the priest was a man of very severe and lofty life. There were\r
+never many people in the church; Natasha always stood beside Belova in\r
+the customary place before an icon of the Blessed Virgin, let into the\r
+screen before the choir on the left side, and a feeling, new to her, of\r
+humility before something great and incomprehensible, seized her when at\r
+that unusual morning hour, gazing at the dark face of the Virgin\r
+illuminated by the candles burning before it and by the morning light\r
+falling from the window, she listened to the words of the service which\r
+she tried to follow with understanding. When she understood them her\r
+personal feeling became interwoven in the prayers with shades of its\r
+own. When she did not understand, it was sweeter still to think that the\r
+wish to understand everything is pride, that it is impossible to\r
+understand all, that it is only necessary to believe and to commit\r
+oneself to God, whom she felt guiding her soul at those moments. She\r
+crossed herself, bowed low, and when she did not understand, in horror\r
+at her own vileness, simply asked God to forgive her everything,\r
+everything, to have mercy upon her. The prayers to which she surrendered\r
+herself most of all were those of repentance. On her way home at an\r
+early hour when she met no one but bricklayers going to work or men\r
+sweeping the street, and everybody within the houses was still asleep,\r
+Natasha experienced a feeling new to her, a sense of the possibility of\r
+correcting her faults, the possibility of a new, clean life, and of\r
+happiness.\r
+\r
+During the whole week she spent in this way, that feeling grew every\r
+day. And the happiness of taking communion, or "communing" as Agrafena\r
+Ivanovna, joyously playing with the word, called it, seemed to Natasha\r
+so great that she felt she should never live till that blessed Sunday.\r
+\r
+But the happy day came, and on that memorable Sunday, when, dressed in\r
+white muslin, she returned home after communion, for the first time for\r
+many months she felt calm and not oppressed by the thought of the life\r
+that lay before her.\r
+\r
+The doctor who came to see her that day ordered her to continue the\r
+powders he had prescribed a fortnight previously.\r
+\r
+"She must certainly go on taking them morning and evening," said he,\r
+evidently sincerely satisfied with his success. "Only, please be\r
+particular about it.\r
+\r
+"Be quite easy," he continued playfully, as he adroitly took the gold\r
+coin in his palm. "She will soon be singing and frolicking about. The\r
+last medicine has done her a very great deal of good. She has freshened\r
+up very much."\r
+\r
+The countess, with a cheerful expression on her face, looked down at her\r
+nails and spat a little for luck as she returned to the drawing room.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVIII\r
+\r
+At the beginning of July more and more disquieting reports about the war\r
+began to spread in Moscow; people spoke of an appeal by the Emperor to\r
+the people, and of his coming himself from the army to Moscow. And as up\r
+to the eleventh of July no manifesto or appeal had been received,\r
+exaggerated reports became current about them and about the position of\r
+Russia. It was said that the Emperor was leaving the army because it was\r
+in danger, it was said that Smolensk had surrendered, that Napoleon had\r
+an army of a million and only a miracle could save Russia.\r
+\r
+On the eleventh of July, which was Saturday, the manifesto was received\r
+but was not yet in print, and Pierre, who was at the Rostovs', promised\r
+to come to dinner next day, Sunday, and bring a copy of the manifesto\r
+and appeal, which he would obtain from Count Rostopchin.\r
+\r
+That Sunday, the Rostovs went to Mass at the Razumovskis' private chapel\r
+as usual. It was a hot July day. Even at ten o'clock, when the Rostovs\r
+got out of their carriage at the chapel, the sultry air, the shouts of\r
+hawkers, the light and gay summer clothes of the crowd, the dusty leaves\r
+of the trees on the boulevard, the sounds of the band and the white\r
+trousers of a battalion marching to parade, the rattling of wheels on\r
+the cobblestones, and the brilliant, hot sunshine were all full of that\r
+summer languor, that content and discontent with the present, which is\r
+most strongly felt on a bright, hot day in town. All the Moscow\r
+notabilities, all the Rostovs' acquaintances, were at the Razumovskis'\r
+chapel, for, as if expecting something to happen, many wealthy families\r
+who usually left town for their country estates had not gone away that\r
+summer. As Natasha, at her mother's side, passed through the crowd\r
+behind a liveried footman who cleared the way for them, she heard a\r
+young man speaking about her in too loud a whisper.\r
+\r
+"That's Rostova, the one who..."\r
+\r
+"She's much thinner, but all the same she's pretty!"\r
+\r
+She heard, or thought she heard, the names of Kuragin and Bolkonski. But\r
+she was always imagining that. It always seemed to her that everyone who\r
+looked at her was thinking only of what had happened to her. With a\r
+sinking heart, wretched as she always was now when she found herself in\r
+a crowd, Natasha in her lilac silk dress trimmed with black lace walked-\r
+-as women can walk--with the more repose and stateliness the greater the\r
+pain and shame in her soul. She knew for certain that she was pretty,\r
+but this no longer gave her satisfaction as it used to. On the contrary\r
+it tormented her more than anything else of late, and particularly so on\r
+this bright, hot summer day in town. "It's Sunday again--another week\r
+past," she thought, recalling that she had been here the Sunday before,\r
+"and always the same life that is no life, and the same surroundings in\r
+which it used to be so easy to live. I'm pretty, I'm young, and I know\r
+that now I am good. I used to be bad, but now I know I am good," she\r
+thought, "but yet my best years are slipping by and are no good to\r
+anyone." She stood by her mother's side and exchanged nods with\r
+acquaintances near her. From habit she scrutinized the ladies' dresses,\r
+condemned the bearing of a lady standing close by who was not crossing\r
+herself properly but in a cramped manner, and again she thought with\r
+vexation that she was herself being judged and was judging others, and\r
+suddenly, at the sound of the service, she felt horrified at her own\r
+vileness, horrified that the former purity of her soul was again lost to\r
+her.\r
+\r
+A comely, fresh-looking old man was conducting the service with that\r
+mild solemnity which has so elevating and soothing an effect on the\r
+souls of the worshipers. The gates of the sanctuary screen were closed,\r
+the curtain was slowly drawn, and from behind it a soft mysterious voice\r
+pronounced some words. Tears, the cause of which she herself did not\r
+understand, made Natasha's breast heave, and a joyous but oppressive\r
+feeling agitated her.\r
+\r
+"Teach me what I should do, how to live my life, how I may grow good\r
+forever, forever!" she pleaded.\r
+\r
+The deacon came out onto the raised space before the altar screen and,\r
+holding his thumb extended, drew his long hair from under his dalmatic\r
+and, making the sign of the cross on his breast, began in a loud and\r
+solemn voice to recite the words of the prayer...\r
+\r
+"In peace let us pray unto the Lord."\r
+\r
+"As one community, without distinction of class, without enmity, united\r
+by brotherly love--let us pray!" thought Natasha.\r
+\r
+"For the peace that is from above, and for the salvation of our souls."\r
+\r
+"For the world of angels and all the spirits who dwell above us," prayed\r
+Natasha.\r
+\r
+When they prayed for the warriors, she thought of her brother and\r
+Denisov. When they prayed for all traveling by land and sea, she\r
+remembered Prince Andrew, prayed for him, and asked God to forgive her\r
+all the wrongs she had done him. When they prayed for those who love us,\r
+she prayed for the members of her own family, her father and mother and\r
+Sonya, realizing for the first time how wrongly she had acted toward\r
+them, and feeling all the strength of her love for them. When they\r
+prayed for those who hate us, she tried to think of her enemies and\r
+people who hated her, in order to pray for them. She included among her\r
+enemies the creditors and all who had business dealings with her father,\r
+and always at the thought of enemies and those who hated her she\r
+remembered Anatole who had done her so much harm--and though he did not\r
+hate her she gladly prayed for him as for an enemy. Only at prayer did\r
+she feel able to think clearly and calmly of Prince Andrew and Anatole,\r
+as men for whom her feelings were as nothing compared with her awe and\r
+devotion to God. When they prayed for the Imperial family and the Synod,\r
+she bowed very low and made the sign of the cross, saying to herself\r
+that even if she did not understand, still she could not doubt, and at\r
+any rate loved the governing Synod and prayed for it.\r
+\r
+When he had finished the Litany the deacon crossed the stole over his\r
+breast and said, "Let us commit ourselves and our whole lives to Christ\r
+the Lord!"\r
+\r
+"Commit ourselves to God," Natasha inwardly repeated. "Lord God, I\r
+submit myself to Thy will!" she thought. "I want nothing, wish for\r
+nothing; teach me what to do and how to use my will! Take me, take me!"\r
+prayed Natasha, with impatient emotion in her heart, not crossing\r
+herself but letting her slender arms hang down as if expecting some\r
+invisible power at any moment to take her and deliver her from herself,\r
+from her regrets, desires, remorse, hopes, and sins.\r
+\r
+The countess looked round several times at her daughter's softened face\r
+and shining eyes and prayed God to help her.\r
+\r
+Unexpectedly, in the middle of the service, and not in the usual order\r
+Natasha knew so well, the deacon brought out a small stool, the one he\r
+knelt on when praying on Trinity Sunday, and placed it before the doors\r
+of the sanctuary screen. The priest came out with his purple velvet\r
+biretta on his head, adjusted his hair, and knelt down with an effort.\r
+Everybody followed his example and they looked at one another in\r
+surprise. Then came the prayer just received from the Synod--a prayer\r
+for the deliverance of Russia from hostile invasion.\r
+\r
+"Lord God of might, God of our salvation!" began the priest in that\r
+voice, clear, not grandiloquent but mild, in which only the Slav clergy\r
+read and which acts so irresistibly on a Russian heart.\r
+\r
+"Lord God of might, God of our salvation! Look this day in mercy and\r
+blessing on Thy humble people, and graciously hear us, spare us, and\r
+have mercy upon us! This foe confounding Thy land, desiring to lay waste\r
+the whole world, rises against us; these lawless men are gathered\r
+together to overthrow Thy kingdom, to destroy Thy dear Jerusalem, Thy\r
+beloved Russia; to defile Thy temples, to overthrow Thine altars, and to\r
+desecrate our holy shrines. How long, O Lord, how long shall the wicked\r
+triumph? How long shall they wield unlawful power?\r
+\r
+"Lord God! Hear us when we pray to Thee; strengthen with Thy might our\r
+most gracious sovereign lord, the Emperor Alexander Pavlovich; be\r
+mindful of his uprightness and meekness, reward him according to his\r
+righteousness, and let it preserve us, Thy chosen Israel! Bless his\r
+counsels, his undertakings, and his work; strengthen his kingdom by\r
+Thine almighty hand, and give him victory over his enemy, even as Thou\r
+gavest Moses the victory over Amalek, Gideon over Midian, and David over\r
+Goliath. Preserve his army, put a bow of brass in the hands of those who\r
+have armed themselves in Thy Name, and gird their loins with strength\r
+for the fight. Take up the spear and shield and arise to help us;\r
+confound and put to shame those who have devised evil against us, may\r
+they be before the faces of Thy faithful warriors as dust before the\r
+wind, and may Thy mighty Angel confound them and put them to flight; may\r
+they be ensnared when they know it not, and may the plots they have laid\r
+in secret be turned against them; let them fall before Thy servants'\r
+feet and be laid low by our hosts! Lord, Thou art able to save both\r
+great and small; Thou art God, and man cannot prevail against Thee!\r
+\r
+"God of our fathers! Remember Thy bounteous mercy and loving-kindness\r
+which are from of old; turn not Thy face from us, but be gracious to our\r
+unworthiness, and in Thy great goodness and Thy many mercies regard not\r
+our transgressions and iniquities! Create in us a clean heart and renew\r
+a right spirit within us, strengthen us all in Thy faith, fortify our\r
+hope, inspire us with true love one for another, arm us with unity of\r
+spirit in the righteous defense of the heritage Thou gavest to us and to\r
+our fathers, and let not the scepter of the wicked be exalted against\r
+the destiny of those Thou hast sanctified.\r
+\r
+"O Lord our God, in whom we believe and in whom we put our trust, let us\r
+not be confounded in our hope of Thy mercy, and give us a token of Thy\r
+blessing, that those who hate us and our Orthodox faith may see it and\r
+be put to shame and perish, and may all the nations know that Thou art\r
+the Lord and we are Thy people. Show Thy mercy upon us this day, O Lord,\r
+and grant us Thy salvation; make the hearts of Thy servants to rejoice\r
+in Thy mercy; smite down our enemies and destroy them swiftly beneath\r
+the feet of Thy faithful servants! For Thou art the defense, the succor,\r
+and the victory of them that put their trust in Thee, and to Thee be all\r
+glory, to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, now and forever, world without\r
+end. Amen."\r
+\r
+In Natasha's receptive condition of soul this prayer affected her\r
+strongly. She listened to every word about the victory of Moses over\r
+Amalek, of Gideon over Midian, and of David over Goliath, and about the\r
+destruction of "Thy Jerusalem," and she prayed to God with the\r
+tenderness and emotion with which her heart was overflowing, but without\r
+fully understanding what she was asking of God in that prayer. She\r
+shared with all her heart in the prayer for the spirit of righteousness,\r
+for the strengthening of the heart by faith and hope, and its animation\r
+by love. But she could not pray that her enemies might be trampled under\r
+foot when but a few minutes before she had been wishing she had more of\r
+them that she might pray for them. But neither could she doubt the\r
+righteousness of the prayer that was being read on bended knees. She\r
+felt in her heart a devout and tremulous awe at the thought of the\r
+punishment that overtakes men for their sins, and especially of her own\r
+sins, and she prayed to God to forgive them all, and her too, and to\r
+give them all, and her too, peace and happiness. And it seemed to her\r
+that God heard her prayer.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIX\r
+\r
+From the day when Pierre, after leaving the Rostovs' with Natasha's\r
+grateful look fresh in his mind, had gazed at the comet that seemed to\r
+be fixed in the sky and felt that something new was appearing on his own\r
+horizon--from that day the problem of the vanity and uselessness of all\r
+earthly things, that had incessantly tormented him, no longer presented\r
+itself. That terrible question "Why?" "Wherefore?" which had come to him\r
+amid every occupation, was now replaced, not by another question or by a\r
+reply to the former question, but by her image. When he listened to, or\r
+himself took part in, trivial conversations, when he read or heard of\r
+human baseness or folly, he was not horrified as formerly, and did not\r
+ask himself why men struggled so about these things when all is so\r
+transient and incomprehensible--but he remembered her as he had last\r
+seen her, and all his doubts vanished--not because she had answered the\r
+questions that had haunted him, but because his conception of her\r
+transferred him instantly to another, a brighter, realm of spiritual\r
+activity in which no one could be justified or guilty--a realm of beauty\r
+and love which it was worth living for. Whatever worldly baseness\r
+presented itself to him, he said to himself:\r
+\r
+"Well, supposing N. N. swindled the country and the Tsar, and the\r
+country and the Tsar confer honors upon him, what does that matter? She\r
+smiled at me yesterday and asked me to come again, and I love her, and\r
+no one will ever know it." And his soul felt calm and peaceful.\r
+\r
+Pierre still went into society, drank as much and led the same idle and\r
+dissipated life, because besides the hours he spent at the Rostovs'\r
+there were other hours he had to spend somehow, and the habits and\r
+acquaintances he had made in Moscow formed a current that bore him along\r
+irresistibly. But latterly, when more and more disquieting reports came\r
+from the seat of war and Natasha's health began to improve and she no\r
+longer aroused in him the former feeling of careful pity, an ever-\r
+increasing restlessness, which he could not explain, took possession of\r
+him. He felt that the condition he was in could not continue long, that\r
+a catastrophe was coming which would change his whole life, and he\r
+impatiently sought everywhere for signs of that approaching catastrophe.\r
+One of his brother Masons had revealed to Pierre the following prophecy\r
+concerning Napoleon, drawn from the Revelation of St. John.\r
+\r
+In chapter 13, verse 18, of the Apocalypse, it is said:\r
+\r
+Here is wisdom. Let him that hath understanding count the number of the\r
+beast: for it is the number of a man; and his number is Six hundred\r
+threescore and six.\r
+\r
+And in the fifth verse of the same chapter:\r
+\r
+And there was given unto him a mouth speaking great things and\r
+blasphemies; and power was given unto him to continue forty and two\r
+months.\r
+\r
+The French alphabet, written out with the same numerical values as the\r
+Hebrew, in which the first nine letters denote units and the others\r
+tens, will have the following significance:\r
+\r
+\r
+a b c d e f g h i k 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9\r
+10 l m n o p q r s 20 30 40 50 60 70 80\r
+90 t u v w x y 100 110 120 130 140 150 z 160\r
+\r
+Writing the words L'Empereur Napoleon in numbers, it appears that the\r
+sum of them is 666, and that Napoleon was therefore the beast foretold\r
+in the Apocalypse. Moreover, by applying the same system to the words\r
+quarante-deux, * which was the term allowed to the beast that "spoke\r
+great things and blasphemies," the same number 666 was obtained; from\r
+which it followed that the limit fixed for Napoleon's power had come in\r
+the year 1812 when the French emperor was forty-two. This prophecy\r
+pleased Pierre very much and he often asked himself what would put an\r
+end to the power of the beast, that is, of Napoleon, and tried by the\r
+same system of using letters as numbers and adding them up, to find an\r
+answer to the question that engrossed him. He wrote the words L'Empereur\r
+Alexandre, La nation russe and added up their numbers, but the sums were\r
+either more or less than 666. Once when making such calculations he\r
+wrote down his own name in French, Comte Pierre Besouhoff, but the sum\r
+of the numbers did not come right. Then he changed the spelling,\r
+substituting a z for the s and adding de and the article le, still\r
+without obtaining the desired result. Then it occurred to him: if the\r
+answer to the question were contained in his name, his nationality would\r
+also be given in the answer. So he wrote Le russe Besuhof and adding up\r
+the numbers got 671. This was only five too much, and five was\r
+represented by e, the very letter elided from the article le before the\r
+word Empereur. By omitting the e, though incorrectly, Pierre got the\r
+answer he sought. L'russe Besuhof made 666. This discovery excited him.\r
+How, or by what means, he was connected with the great event foretold in\r
+the Apocalypse he did not know, but he did not doubt that connection for\r
+a moment. His love for Natasha, Antichrist, Napoleon, the invasion, the\r
+comet, 666, L'Empereur Napoleon, and L'russe Besuhof--all this had to\r
+mature and culminate, to lift him out of that spellbound, petty sphere\r
+of Moscow habits in which he felt himself held captive and lead him to a\r
+great achievement and great happiness.\r
+\r
+\r
+* Forty-two.\r
+\r
+On the eve of the Sunday when the special prayer was read, Pierre had\r
+promised the Rostovs to bring them, from Count Rostopchin whom he knew\r
+well, both the appeal to the people and the news from the army. In the\r
+morning, when he went to call at Rostopchin's he met there a courier\r
+fresh from the army, an acquaintance of his own, who often danced at\r
+Moscow balls.\r
+\r
+"Do, please, for heaven's sake, relieve me of something!" said the\r
+courier. "I have a sackful of letters to parents."\r
+\r
+Among these letters was one from Nicholas Rostov to his father. Pierre\r
+took that letter, and Rostopchin also gave him the Emperor's appeal to\r
+Moscow, which had just been printed, the last army orders, and his own\r
+most recent bulletin. Glancing through the army orders, Pierre found in\r
+one of them, in the lists of killed, wounded, and rewarded, the name of\r
+Nicholas Rostov, awarded a St. George's Cross of the Fourth Class for\r
+courage shown in the Ostrovna affair, and in the same order the name of\r
+Prince Andrew Bolkonski, appointed to the command of a regiment of\r
+Chasseurs. Though he did not want to remind the Rostovs of Bolkonski,\r
+Pierre could not refrain from making them happy by the news of their\r
+son's having received a decoration, so he sent that printed army order\r
+and Nicholas' letter to the Rostovs, keeping the appeal, the bulletin,\r
+and the other orders to take with him when he went to dinner.\r
+\r
+His conversation with Count Rostopchin and the latter's tone of anxious\r
+hurry, the meeting with the courier who talked casually of how badly\r
+things were going in the army, the rumors of the discovery of spies in\r
+Moscow and of a leaflet in circulation stating that Napoleon promised to\r
+be in both the Russian capitals by the autumn, and the talk of the\r
+Emperor's being expected to arrive next day--all aroused with fresh\r
+force that feeling of agitation and expectation in Pierre which he had\r
+been conscious of ever since the appearance of the comet, and especially\r
+since the beginning of the war.\r
+\r
+He had long been thinking of entering the army and would have done so\r
+had he not been hindered, first, by his membership of the Society of\r
+Freemasons to which he was bound by oath and which preached perpetual\r
+peace and the abolition of war, and secondly, by the fact that when he\r
+saw the great mass of Muscovites who had donned uniform and were talking\r
+patriotism, he somehow felt ashamed to take the step. But the chief\r
+reason for not carrying out his intention to enter the army lay in the\r
+vague idea that he was L'russe Besuhof who had the number of the beast,\r
+666; that his part in the great affair of setting a limit to the power\r
+of the beast that spoke great and blasphemous things had been\r
+predestined from eternity, and that therefore he ought not to undertake\r
+anything, but wait for what was bound to come to pass.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XX\r
+\r
+A few intimate friends were dining with the Rostovs that day, as usual\r
+on Sundays.\r
+\r
+Pierre came early so as to find them alone.\r
+\r
+He had grown so stout this year that he would have been abnormal had he\r
+not been so tall, so broad of limb, and so strong that he carried his\r
+bulk with evident ease.\r
+\r
+He went up the stairs, puffing and muttering something. His coachman did\r
+not even ask whether he was to wait. He knew that when his master was at\r
+the Rostovs' he stayed till midnight. The Rostovs' footman rushed\r
+eagerly forward to help him off with his cloak and take his hat and\r
+stick. Pierre, from club habit, always left both hat and stick in the\r
+anteroom.\r
+\r
+The first person he saw in the house was Natasha. Even before he saw\r
+her, while taking off his cloak, he heard her. She was practicing solfa\r
+exercises in the music room. He knew that she had not sung since her\r
+illness, and so the sound of her voice surprised and delighted him. He\r
+opened the door softly and saw her, in the lilac dress she had worn at\r
+church, walking about the room singing. She had her back to him when he\r
+opened the door, but when, turning quickly, she saw his broad, surprised\r
+face, she blushed and came rapidly up to him.\r
+\r
+"I want to try to sing again," she said, adding as if by way of excuse,\r
+"it is, at least, something to do."\r
+\r
+"That's capital!"\r
+\r
+"How glad I am you've come! I am so happy today," she said, with the old\r
+animation Pierre had not seen in her for a long time. "You know Nicholas\r
+has received a St. George's Cross? I am so proud of him."\r
+\r
+"Oh yes, I sent that announcement. But I don't want to interrupt you,"\r
+he added, and was about to go to the drawing room.\r
+\r
+Natasha stopped him.\r
+\r
+"Count, is it wrong of me to sing?" she said blushing, and fixing her\r
+eyes inquiringly on him.\r
+\r
+"No... Why should it be? On the contrary... But why do you ask me?"\r
+\r
+"I don't know myself," Natasha answered quickly, "but I should not like\r
+to do anything you disapproved of. I believe in you completely. You\r
+don't know how important you are to me, how much you've done for me...."\r
+She spoke rapidly and did not notice how Pierre flushed at her words. "I\r
+saw in that same army order that he, Bolkonski" (she whispered the name\r
+hastily), "is in Russia, and in the army again. What do you think?"--she\r
+was speaking hurriedly, evidently afraid her strength might fail her--\r
+"Will he ever forgive me? Will he not always have a bitter feeling\r
+toward me? What do you think? What do you think?"\r
+\r
+"I think..." Pierre replied, "that he has nothing to forgive.... If I\r
+were in his place..."\r
+\r
+By association of ideas, Pierre was at once carried back to the day\r
+when, trying to comfort her, he had said that if he were not himself but\r
+the best man in the world and free, he would ask on his knees for her\r
+hand; and the same feeling of pity, tenderness, and love took possession\r
+of him and the same words rose to his lips. But she did not give him\r
+time to say them.\r
+\r
+"Yes, you... you..." she said, uttering the word you rapturously--\r
+"that's a different thing. I know no one kinder, more generous, or\r
+better than you; nobody could be! Had you not been there then, and now\r
+too, I don't know what would have become of me, because..."\r
+\r
+Tears suddenly rose in her eyes, she turned away, lifted her music\r
+before her eyes, began singing again, and again began walking up and\r
+down the room.\r
+\r
+Just then Petya came running in from the drawing room.\r
+\r
+Petya was now a handsome rosy lad of fifteen with full red lips and\r
+resembled Natasha. He was preparing to enter the university, but he and\r
+his friend Obolenski had lately, in secret, agreed to join the hussars.\r
+\r
+Petya had come rushing out to talk to his namesake about this affair. He\r
+had asked Pierre to find out whether he would be accepted in the\r
+hussars.\r
+\r
+Pierre walked up and down the drawing room, not listening to what Petya\r
+was saying.\r
+\r
+Petya pulled him by the arm to attract his attention.\r
+\r
+"Well, what about my plan? Peter Kirilych, for heaven's sake! You are my\r
+only hope," said Petya.\r
+\r
+"Oh yes, your plan. To join the hussars? I'll mention it, I'll bring it\r
+all up today."\r
+\r
+"Well, mon cher, have you got the manifesto?" asked the old count. "The\r
+countess has been to Mass at the Razumovskis' and heard the new prayer.\r
+She says it's very fine."\r
+\r
+"Yes, I've got it," said Pierre. "The Emperor is to be here tomorrow...\r
+there's to be an Extraordinary Meeting of the nobility, and they are\r
+talking of a levy of ten men per thousand. Oh yes, let me congratulate\r
+you!"\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes, thank God! Well, and what news from the army?"\r
+\r
+"We are again retreating. They say we're already near Smolensk," replied\r
+Pierre.\r
+\r
+"O Lord, O Lord!" exclaimed the count. "Where is the manifesto?"\r
+\r
+"The Emperor's appeal? Oh yes!"\r
+\r
+Pierre began feeling in his pockets for the papers, but could not find\r
+them. Still slapping his pockets, he kissed the hand of the countess who\r
+entered the room and glanced uneasily around, evidently expecting\r
+Natasha, who had left off singing but had not yet come into the drawing\r
+room.\r
+\r
+"On my word, I don't know what I've done with it," he said.\r
+\r
+"There he is, always losing everything!" remarked the countess.\r
+\r
+Natasha entered with a softened and agitated expression of face and sat\r
+down looking silently at Pierre. As soon as she entered, Pierre's\r
+features, which had been gloomy, suddenly lighted up, and while still\r
+searching for the papers he glanced at her several times.\r
+\r
+"No, really! I'll drive home, I must have left them there. I'll\r
+certainly..."\r
+\r
+"But you'll be late for dinner."\r
+\r
+"Oh! And my coachman has gone."\r
+\r
+But Sonya, who had gone to look for the papers in the anteroom, had\r
+found them in Pierre's hat, where he had carefully tucked them under the\r
+lining. Pierre was about to begin reading.\r
+\r
+"No, after dinner," said the old count, evidently expecting much\r
+enjoyment from that reading.\r
+\r
+At dinner, at which champagne was drunk to the health of the new\r
+chevalier of St. George, Shinshin told them the town news, of the\r
+illness of the old Georgian princess, of Metivier's disappearance from\r
+Moscow, and of how some German fellow had been brought to Rostopchin and\r
+accused of being a French "spyer" (so Count Rostopchin had told the\r
+story), and how Rostopchin let him go and assured the people that he was\r
+"not a spire at all, but only an old German ruin."\r
+\r
+"People are being arrested..." said the count. "I've told the countess\r
+she should not speak French so much. It's not the time for it now."\r
+\r
+"And have you heard?" Shinshin asked. "Prince Golitsyn has engaged a\r
+master to teach him Russian. It is becoming dangerous to speak French in\r
+the streets."\r
+\r
+"And how about you, Count Peter Kirilych? If they call up the militia,\r
+you too will have to mount a horse," remarked the old count, addressing\r
+Pierre.\r
+\r
+Pierre had been silent and preoccupied all through dinner, seeming not\r
+to grasp what was said. He looked at the count.\r
+\r
+"Oh yes, the war," he said. "No! What sort of warrior should I make? And\r
+yet everything is so strange, so strange! I can't make it out. I don't\r
+know, I am very far from having military tastes, but in these times no\r
+one can answer for himself."\r
+\r
+After dinner the count settled himself comfortably in an easy chair and\r
+with a serious face asked Sonya, who was considered an excellent reader,\r
+to read the appeal.\r
+\r
+"To Moscow, our ancient Capital!\r
+\r
+"The enemy has entered the borders of Russia with immense forces. He\r
+comes to despoil our beloved country."\r
+\r
+Sonya read painstakingly in her high-pitched voice. The count listened\r
+with closed eyes, heaving abrupt sighs at certain passages.\r
+\r
+Natasha sat erect, gazing with a searching look now at her father and\r
+now at Pierre.\r
+\r
+Pierre felt her eyes on him and tried not to look round. The countess\r
+shook her head disapprovingly and angrily at every solemn expression in\r
+the manifesto. In all these words she saw only that the danger\r
+threatening her son would not soon be over. Shinshin, with a sarcastic\r
+smile on his lips, was evidently preparing to make fun of anything that\r
+gave him the opportunity: Sonya's reading, any remark of the count's, or\r
+even the manifesto itself should no better pretext present itself.\r
+\r
+After reading about the dangers that threatened Russia, the hopes the\r
+Emperor placed on Moscow and especially on its illustrious nobility,\r
+Sonya, with a quiver in her voice due chiefly to the attention that was\r
+being paid to her, read the last words:\r
+\r
+"We ourselves will not delay to appear among our people in that Capital\r
+and in other parts of our realm for consultation, and for the direction\r
+of all our levies, both those now barring the enemy's path and those\r
+freshly formed to defeat him wherever he may appear. May the ruin he\r
+hopes to bring upon us recoil on his own head, and may Europe delivered\r
+from bondage glorify the name of Russia!"\r
+\r
+"Yes, that's it!" cried the count, opening his moist eyes and sniffing\r
+repeatedly, as if a strong vinaigrette had been held to his nose; and he\r
+added, "Let the Emperor but say the word and we'll sacrifice everything\r
+and begrudge nothing."\r
+\r
+Before Shinshin had time to utter the joke he was ready to make on the\r
+count's patriotism, Natasha jumped up from her place and ran to her\r
+father.\r
+\r
+"What a darling our Papa is!" she cried, kissing him, and she again\r
+looked at Pierre with the unconscious coquetry that had returned to her\r
+with her better spirits.\r
+\r
+"There! Here's a patriot for you!" said Shinshin.\r
+\r
+"Not a patriot at all, but simply..." Natasha replied in an injured\r
+tone. "Everything seems funny to you, but this isn't at all a joke...."\r
+\r
+"A joke indeed!" put in the count. "Let him but say the word and we'll\r
+all go.... We're not Germans!"\r
+\r
+"But did you notice, it says, 'for consultation'?" said Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Never mind what it's for...."\r
+\r
+At this moment, Petya, to whom nobody was paying any attention, came up\r
+to his father with a very flushed face and said in his breaking voice\r
+that was now deep and now shrill:\r
+\r
+"Well, Papa, I tell you definitely, and Mamma too, it's as you please,\r
+but I say definitely that you must let me enter the army, because I\r
+can't... that's all...."\r
+\r
+The countess, in dismay, looked up to heaven, clasped her hands, and\r
+turned angrily to her husband.\r
+\r
+"That comes of your talking!" said she.\r
+\r
+But the count had already recovered from his excitement.\r
+\r
+"Come, come!" said he. "Here's a fine warrior! No! Nonsense! You must\r
+study."\r
+\r
+"It's not nonsense, Papa. Fedya Obolenski is younger than I, and he's\r
+going too. Besides, all the same I can't study now when..." Petya\r
+stopped short, flushed till he perspired, but still got out the words,\r
+"when our Fatherland is in danger."\r
+\r
+"That'll do, that'll do--nonsense...."\r
+\r
+"But you said yourself that we would sacrifice everything."\r
+\r
+"Petya! Be quiet, I tell you!" cried the count, with a glance at his\r
+wife, who had turned pale and was staring fixedly at her son.\r
+\r
+"And I tell you--Peter Kirilych here will also tell you..."\r
+\r
+"Nonsense, I tell you. Your mother's milk has hardly dried on your lips\r
+and you want to go into the army! There, there, I tell you," and the\r
+count moved to go out of the room, taking the papers, probably to reread\r
+them in his study before having a nap.\r
+\r
+"Well, Peter Kirilych, let's go and have a smoke," he said.\r
+\r
+Pierre was agitated and undecided. Natasha's unwontedly brilliant eyes,\r
+continually glancing at him with a more than cordial look, had reduced\r
+him to this condition.\r
+\r
+"No, I think I'll go home."\r
+\r
+"Home? Why, you meant to spend the evening with us.... You don't often\r
+come nowadays as it is, and this girl of mine," said the count good-\r
+naturedly, pointing to Natasha, "only brightens up when you're here."\r
+\r
+"Yes, I had forgotten... I really must go home... business..." said\r
+Pierre hurriedly.\r
+\r
+"Well, then, au revoir!" said the count, and went out of the room.\r
+\r
+"Why are you going? Why are you upset?" asked Natasha, and she looked\r
+challengingly into Pierre's eyes.\r
+\r
+"Because I love you!" was what he wanted to say, but he did not say it,\r
+and only blushed till the tears came, and lowered his eyes.\r
+\r
+"Because it is better for me to come less often... because... No, simply\r
+I have business...."\r
+\r
+"Why? No, tell me!" Natasha began resolutely and suddenly stopped.\r
+\r
+They looked at each other with dismayed and embarrassed faces. He tried\r
+to smile but could not: his smile expressed suffering, and he silently\r
+kissed her hand and went out.\r
+\r
+Pierre made up his mind not to go to the Rostovs' any more.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXI\r
+\r
+After the definite refusal he had received, Petya went to his room and\r
+there locked himself in and wept bitterly. When he came in to tea,\r
+silent, morose, and with tear-stained face, everybody pretended not to\r
+notice anything.\r
+\r
+Next day the Emperor arrived in Moscow, and several of the Rostovs'\r
+domestic serfs begged permission to go to have a look at him. That\r
+morning Petya was a long time dressing and arranging his hair and collar\r
+to look like a grown-up man. He frowned before his looking glass,\r
+gesticulated, shrugged his shoulders, and finally, without saying a word\r
+to anyone, took his cap and left the house by the back door, trying to\r
+avoid notice. Petya decided to go straight to where the Emperor was and\r
+to explain frankly to some gentleman-in-waiting (he imagined the Emperor\r
+to be always surrounded by gentlemen-in-waiting) that he, Count Rostov,\r
+in spite of his youth wished to serve his country; that youth could be\r
+no hindrance to loyalty, and that he was ready to... While dressing,\r
+Petya had prepared many fine things he meant to say to the gentleman-in-\r
+waiting.\r
+\r
+It was on the very fact of being so young that Petya counted for success\r
+in reaching the Emperor--he even thought how surprised everyone would be\r
+at his youthfulness--and yet in the arrangement of his collar and hair\r
+and by his sedate deliberate walk he wished to appear a grown-up man.\r
+But the farther he went and the more his attention was diverted by the\r
+ever-increasing crowds moving toward the Kremlin, the less he remembered\r
+to walk with the sedateness and deliberation of a man. As he approached\r
+the Kremlin he even began to avoid being crushed and resolutely stuck\r
+out his elbows in a menacing way. But within the Trinity Gateway he was\r
+so pressed to the wall by people who probably were unaware of the\r
+patriotic intentions with which he had come that in spite of all his\r
+determination he had to give in, and stop while carriages passed in,\r
+rumbling beneath the archway. Beside Petya stood a peasant woman, a\r
+footman, two tradesmen, and a discharged soldier. After standing some\r
+time in the gateway, Petya tried to move forward in front of the others\r
+without waiting for all the carriages to pass, and he began resolutely\r
+working his way with his elbows, but the woman just in front of him, who\r
+was the first against whom he directed his efforts, angrily shouted at\r
+him:\r
+\r
+"What are you shoving for, young lordling? Don't you see we're all\r
+standing still? Then why push?"\r
+\r
+"Anybody can shove," said the footman, and also began working his elbows\r
+to such effect that he pushed Petya into a very filthy corner of the\r
+gateway.\r
+\r
+Petya wiped his perspiring face with his hands and pulled up the damp\r
+collar which he had arranged so well at home to seem like a man's.\r
+\r
+He felt that he no longer looked presentable, and feared that if he were\r
+now to approach the gentlemen-in-waiting in that plight he would not be\r
+admitted to the Emperor. But it was impossible to smarten oneself up or\r
+move to another place, because of the crowd. One of the generals who\r
+drove past was an acquaintance of the Rostovs', and Petya thought of\r
+asking his help, but came to the conclusion that that would not be a\r
+manly thing to do. When the carriages had all passed in, the crowd,\r
+carrying Petya with it, streamed forward into the Kremlin Square which\r
+was already full of people. There were people not only in the square,\r
+but everywhere--on the slopes and on the roofs. As soon as Petya found\r
+himself in the square he clearly heard the sound of bells and the joyous\r
+voices of the crowd that filled the whole Kremlin.\r
+\r
+For a while the crowd was less dense, but suddenly all heads were bared,\r
+and everyone rushed forward in one direction. Petya was being pressed so\r
+that he could scarcely breathe, and everybody shouted, "Hurrah! hurrah!\r
+hurrah!" Petya stood on tiptoe and pushed and pinched, but could see\r
+nothing except the people about him.\r
+\r
+All the faces bore the same expression of excitement and enthusiasm. A\r
+tradesman's wife standing beside Petya sobbed, and the tears ran down\r
+her cheeks.\r
+\r
+"Father! Angel! Dear one!" she kept repeating, wiping away her tears\r
+with her fingers.\r
+\r
+"Hurrah!" was heard on all sides.\r
+\r
+For a moment the crowd stood still, but then it made another rush\r
+forward.\r
+\r
+Quite beside himself, Petya, clinching his teeth and rolling his eyes\r
+ferociously, pushed forward, elbowing his way and shouting "hurrah!" as\r
+if he were prepared that instant to kill himself and everyone else, but\r
+on both sides of him other people with similarly ferocious faces pushed\r
+forward and everybody shouted "hurrah!"\r
+\r
+"So this is what the Emperor is!" thought Petya. "No, I can't petition\r
+him myself--that would be too bold." But in spite of this he continued\r
+to struggle desperately forward, and from between the backs of those in\r
+front he caught glimpses of an open space with a strip of red cloth\r
+spread out on it; but just then the crowd swayed back--the police in\r
+front were pushing back those who had pressed too close to the\r
+procession: the Emperor was passing from the palace to the Cathedral of\r
+the Assumption--and Petya unexpectedly received such a blow on his side\r
+and ribs and was squeezed so hard that suddenly everything grew dim\r
+before his eyes and he lost consciousness. When he came to himself, a\r
+man of clerical appearance with a tuft of gray hair at the back of his\r
+head and wearing a shabby blue cassock--probably a church clerk and\r
+chanter--was holding him under the arm with one hand while warding off\r
+the pressure of the crowd with the other.\r
+\r
+"You've crushed the young gentleman!" said the clerk. "What are you up\r
+to? Gently!... They've crushed him, crushed him!"\r
+\r
+The Emperor entered the Cathedral of the Assumption. The crowd spread\r
+out again more evenly, and the clerk led Petya--pale and breathless--to\r
+the Tsar-cannon. Several people were sorry for Petya, and suddenly a\r
+crowd turned toward him and pressed round him. Those who stood nearest\r
+him attended to him, unbuttoned his coat, seated him on the raised\r
+platform of the cannon, and reproached those others (whoever they might\r
+be) who had crushed him.\r
+\r
+"One might easily get killed that way! What do they mean by it? Killing\r
+people! Poor dear, he's as white as a sheet!"--various voices were heard\r
+saying.\r
+\r
+Petya soon came to himself, the color returned to his face, the pain had\r
+passed, and at the cost of that temporary unpleasantness he had obtained\r
+a place by the cannon from where he hoped to see the Emperor who would\r
+be returning that way. Petya no longer thought of presenting his\r
+petition. If he could only see the Emperor he would be happy!\r
+\r
+While the service was proceeding in the Cathedral of the Assumption--it\r
+was a combined service of prayer on the occasion of the Emperor's\r
+arrival and of thanksgiving for the conclusion of peace with the Turks--\r
+the crowd outside spread out and hawkers appeared, selling kvas,\r
+gingerbread, and poppyseed sweets (of which Petya was particularly\r
+fond), and ordinary conversation could again be heard. A tradesman's\r
+wife was showing a rent in her shawl and telling how much the shawl had\r
+cost; another was saying that all silk goods had now got dear. The clerk\r
+who had rescued Petya was talking to a functionary about the priests who\r
+were officiating that day with the bishop. The clerk several times used\r
+the word "plenary" (of the service), a word Petya did not understand.\r
+Two young citizens were joking with some serf girls who were cracking\r
+nuts. All these conversations, especially the joking with the girls,\r
+were such as might have had a particular charm for Petya at his age, but\r
+they did not interest him now. He sat on his elevation--the pedestal of\r
+the cannon--still agitated as before by the thought of the Emperor and\r
+by his love for him. The feeling of pain and fear he had experienced\r
+when he was being crushed, together with that of rapture, still further\r
+intensified his sense of the importance of the occasion.\r
+\r
+Suddenly the sound of a firing of cannon was heard from the embankment,\r
+to celebrate the signing of peace with the Turks, and the crowd rushed\r
+impetuously toward the embankment to watch the firing. Petya too would\r
+have run there, but the clerk who had taken the young gentleman under\r
+his protection stopped him. The firing was still proceeding when\r
+officers, generals, and gentlemen-in-waiting came running out of the\r
+cathedral, and after them others in a more leisurely manner: caps were\r
+again raised, and those who had run to look at the cannon ran back\r
+again. At last four men in uniforms and sashes emerged from the\r
+cathedral doors. "Hurrah! hurrah!" shouted the crowd again.\r
+\r
+"Which is he? Which?" asked Petya in a tearful voice, of those around\r
+him, but no one answered him, everybody was too excited; and Petya,\r
+fixing on one of those four men, whom he could not clearly see for the\r
+tears of joy that filled his eyes, concentrated all his enthusiasm on\r
+him--though it happened not to be the Emperor--frantically shouted\r
+"Hurrah!" and resolved that tomorrow, come what might, he would join the\r
+army.\r
+\r
+The crowd ran after the Emperor, followed him to the palace, and began\r
+to disperse. It was already late, and Petya had not eaten anything and\r
+was drenched with perspiration, yet he did not go home but stood with\r
+that diminishing, but still considerable, crowd before the palace while\r
+the Emperor dined--looking in at the palace windows, expecting he knew\r
+not what, and envying alike the notables he saw arriving at the entrance\r
+to dine with the Emperor and the court footmen who served at table,\r
+glimpses of whom could be seen through the windows.\r
+\r
+While the Emperor was dining, Valuev, looking out of the window, said:\r
+\r
+"The people are still hoping to see Your Majesty again."\r
+\r
+The dinner was nearly over, and the Emperor, munching a biscuit, rose\r
+and went out onto the balcony. The people, with Petya among them, rushed\r
+toward the balcony.\r
+\r
+"Angel! Dear one! Hurrah! Father!..." cried the crowd, and Petya with\r
+it, and again the women and men of weaker mold, Petya among them, wept\r
+with joy.\r
+\r
+A largish piece of the biscuit the Emperor was holding in his hand broke\r
+off, fell on the balcony parapet, and then to the ground. A coachman in\r
+a jerkin, who stood nearest, sprang forward and snatched it up. Several\r
+people in the crowd rushed at the coachman. Seeing this the Emperor had\r
+a plateful of biscuits brought him and began throwing them down from the\r
+balcony. Petya's eyes grew bloodshot, and still more excited by the\r
+danger of being crushed, he rushed at the biscuits. He did not know why,\r
+but he had to have a biscuit from the Tsar's hand and he felt that he\r
+must not give way. He sprang forward and upset an old woman who was\r
+catching at a biscuit; the old woman did not consider herself defeated\r
+though she was lying on the ground--she grabbed at some biscuits but her\r
+hand did not reach them. Petya pushed her hand away with his knee,\r
+seized a biscuit, and as if fearing to be too late, again shouted\r
+"Hurrah!" with a voice already hoarse.\r
+\r
+The Emperor went in, and after that the greater part of the crowd began\r
+to disperse.\r
+\r
+"There! I said if only we waited--and so it was!" was being joyfully\r
+said by various people.\r
+\r
+Happy as Petya was, he felt sad at having to go home knowing that all\r
+the enjoyment of that day was over. He did not go straight home from the\r
+Kremlin, but called on his friend Obolenski, who was fifteen and was\r
+also entering the regiment. On returning home Petya announced resolutely\r
+and firmly that if he was not allowed to enter the service he would run\r
+away. And next day, Count Ilya Rostov--though he had not yet quite\r
+yielded--went to inquire how he could arrange for Petya to serve where\r
+there would be least danger.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXII\r
+\r
+Two days later, on the fifteenth of July, an immense number of carriages\r
+were standing outside the Sloboda Palace.\r
+\r
+The great halls were full. In the first were the nobility and gentry in\r
+their uniforms, in the second bearded merchants in full-skirted coats of\r
+blue cloth and wearing medals. In the noblemen's hall there was an\r
+incessant movement and buzz of voices. The chief magnates sat on high-\r
+backed chairs at a large table under the portrait of the Emperor, but\r
+most of the gentry were strolling about the room.\r
+\r
+All these nobles, whom Pierre met every day at the club or in their own\r
+houses, were in uniform--some in that of Catherine's day, others in that\r
+of Emperor Paul, others again in the new uniforms of Alexander's time or\r
+the ordinary uniform of the nobility, and the general characteristic of\r
+being in uniform imparted something strange and fantastic to these\r
+diverse and familiar personalities, both old and young. The old men,\r
+dim-eyed, toothless, bald, sallow, and bloated, or gaunt and wrinkled,\r
+were especially striking. For the most part they sat quietly in their\r
+places and were silent, or, if they walked about and talked, attached\r
+themselves to someone younger. On all these faces, as on the faces of\r
+the crowd Petya had seen in the Square, there was a striking\r
+contradiction: the general expectation of a solemn event, and at the\r
+same time the everyday interests in a boston card party, Peter the cook,\r
+Zinaida Dmitrievna's health, and so on.\r
+\r
+Pierre was there too, buttoned up since early morning in a nobleman's\r
+uniform that had become too tight for him. He was agitated; this\r
+extraordinary gathering not only of nobles but also of the merchant-\r
+class--les etats generaux (States-General)--evoked in him a whole series\r
+of ideas he had long laid aside but which were deeply graven in his\r
+soul: thoughts of the Contrat Social and the French Revolution. The\r
+words that had struck him in the Emperor's appeal--that the sovereign\r
+was coming to the capital for consultation with his people--strengthened\r
+this idea. And imagining that in this direction something important\r
+which he had long awaited was drawing near, he strolled about watching\r
+and listening to conversations, but nowhere finding any confirmation of\r
+the ideas that occupied him.\r
+\r
+The Emperor's manifesto was read, evoking enthusiasm, and then all moved\r
+about discussing it. Besides the ordinary topics of conversation, Pierre\r
+heard questions of where the marshals of the nobility were to stand when\r
+the Emperor entered, when a ball should be given in the Emperor's honor,\r
+whether they should group themselves by districts or by whole\r
+provinces... and so on; but as soon as the war was touched on, or what\r
+the nobility had been convened for, the talk became undecided and\r
+indefinite. Then all preferred listening to speaking.\r
+\r
+A middle-aged man, handsome and virile, in the uniform of a retired\r
+naval officer, was speaking in one of the rooms, and a small crowd was\r
+pressing round him. Pierre went up to the circle that had formed round\r
+the speaker and listened. Count Ilya Rostov, in a military uniform of\r
+Catherine's time, was sauntering with a pleasant smile among the crowd,\r
+with all of whom he was acquainted. He too approached that group and\r
+listened with a kindly smile and nods of approval, as he always did, to\r
+what the speaker was saying. The retired naval man was speaking very\r
+boldly, as was evident from the expression on the faces of the listeners\r
+and from the fact that some people Pierre knew as the meekest and\r
+quietest of men walked away disapprovingly or expressed disagreement\r
+with him. Pierre pushed his way into the middle of the group, listened,\r
+and convinced himself that the man was indeed a liberal, but of views\r
+quite different from his own. The naval officer spoke in a particularly\r
+sonorous, musical, and aristocratic baritone voice, pleasantly\r
+swallowing his r's and generally slurring his consonants: the voice of a\r
+man calling out to his servant, "Heah! Bwing me my pipe!" It was\r
+indicative of dissipation and the exercise of authority.\r
+\r
+"What if the Smolensk people have offahd to waise militia for the\r
+Empewah? Ah we to take Smolensk as our patte'n? If the noble awistocwacy\r
+of the pwovince of Moscow thinks fit, it can show its loyalty to our\r
+sov'weign the Empewah in other ways. Have we fo'gotten the waising of\r
+the militia in the yeah 'seven? All that did was to enwich the pwiests'\r
+sons and thieves and wobbahs...."\r
+\r
+Count Ilya Rostov smiled blandly and nodded approval.\r
+\r
+"And was our militia of any use to the Empia? Not at all! It only wuined\r
+our farming! Bettah have another conscwiption... o' ou' men will wetu'n\r
+neithah soldiers no' peasants, and we'll get only depwavity fwom them.\r
+The nobility don't gwudge theah lives--evewy one of us will go and bwing\r
+in more wecwuits, and the sov'weign" (that was the way he referred to\r
+the Emperor) "need only say the word and we'll all die fo' him!" added\r
+the orator with animation.\r
+\r
+Count Rostov's mouth watered with pleasure and he nudged Pierre, but\r
+Pierre wanted to speak himself. He pushed forward, feeling stirred, but\r
+not yet sure what stirred him or what he would say. Scarcely had he\r
+opened his mouth when one of the senators, a man without a tooth in his\r
+head, with a shrewd though angry expression, standing near the first\r
+speaker, interrupted him. Evidently accustomed to managing debates and\r
+to maintaining an argument, he began in low but distinct tones:\r
+\r
+"I imagine, sir," said he, mumbling with his toothless mouth, "that we\r
+have been summoned here not to discuss whether it's best for the empire\r
+at the present moment to adopt conscription or to call out the militia.\r
+We have been summoned to reply to the appeal with which our sovereign\r
+the Emperor has honored us. But to judge what is best--conscription or\r
+the militia--we can leave to the supreme authority...."\r
+\r
+Pierre suddenly saw an outlet for his excitement. He hardened his heart\r
+against the senator who was introducing this set and narrow attitude\r
+into the deliberations of the nobility. Pierre stepped forward and\r
+interrupted him. He himself did not yet know what he would say, but he\r
+began to speak eagerly, occasionally lapsing into French or expressing\r
+himself in bookish Russian.\r
+\r
+"Excuse me, your excellency," he began. (He was well acquainted with the\r
+senator, but thought it necessary on this occasion to address him\r
+formally.) "Though I don't agree with the gentleman..." (he hesitated:\r
+he wished to say, "Mon tres honorable preopinant"--"My very honorable\r
+opponent") "with the gentleman... whom I have not the honor of knowing,\r
+I suppose that the nobility have been summoned not merely to express\r
+their sympathy and enthusiasm but also to consider the means by which we\r
+can assist our Fatherland! I imagine," he went on, warming to his\r
+subject, "that the Emperor himself would not be satisfied to find in us\r
+merely owners of serfs whom we are willing to devote to his service, and\r
+chair a canon * we are ready to make of ourselves--and not to obtain\r
+from us any co-co-counsel."\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Food for cannon."\r
+\r
+Many persons withdrew from the circle, noticing the senator's sarcastic\r
+smile and the freedom of Pierre's remarks. Only Count Rostov was pleased\r
+with them as he had been pleased with those of the naval officer, the\r
+senator, and in general with whatever speech he had last heard.\r
+\r
+"I think that before discussing these questions," Pierre continued, "we\r
+should ask the Emperor--most respectfully ask His Majesty--to let us\r
+know the number of our troops and the position in which our army and our\r
+forces now are, and then..."\r
+\r
+But scarcely had Pierre uttered these words before he was attacked from\r
+three sides. The most vigorous attack came from an old acquaintance, a\r
+boston player who had always been well disposed toward him, Stepan\r
+Stepanovich Adraksin. Adraksin was in uniform, and whether as a result\r
+of the uniform or from some other cause Pierre saw before him quite a\r
+different man. With a sudden expression of malevolence on his aged face,\r
+Adraksin shouted at Pierre:\r
+\r
+"In the first place, I tell you we have no right to question the Emperor\r
+about that, and secondly, if the Russian nobility had that right, the\r
+Emperor could not answer such a question. The troops are moved according\r
+to the enemy's movements and the number of men increases and\r
+decreases..."\r
+\r
+Another voice, that of a nobleman of medium height and about forty years\r
+of age, whom Pierre had formerly met at the gypsies' and knew as a bad\r
+cardplayer, and who, also transformed by his uniform, came up to Pierre,\r
+interrupted Adraksin.\r
+\r
+"Yes, and this is not a time for discussing," he continued, "but for\r
+acting: there is war in Russia! The enemy is advancing to destroy\r
+Russia, to desecrate the tombs of our fathers, to carry off our wives\r
+and children." The nobleman smote his breast. "We will all arise, every\r
+one of us will go, for our father the Tsar!" he shouted, rolling his\r
+bloodshot eyes. Several approving voices were heard in the crowd. "We\r
+are Russians and will not grudge our blood in defense of our faith, the\r
+throne, and the Fatherland! We must cease raving if we are sons of our\r
+Fatherland! We will show Europe how Russia rises to the defense of\r
+Russia!"\r
+\r
+Pierre wished to reply, but could not get in a word. He felt that his\r
+words, apart from what meaning they conveyed, were less audible than the\r
+sound of his opponent's voice.\r
+\r
+Count Rostov at the back of the crowd was expressing approval; several\r
+persons, briskly turning a shoulder to the orator at the end of a\r
+phrase, said:\r
+\r
+"That's right, quite right! Just so!"\r
+\r
+Pierre wished to say that he was ready to sacrifice his money, his\r
+serfs, or himself, only one ought to know the state of affairs in order\r
+to be able to improve it, but he was unable to speak. Many voices\r
+shouted and talked at the same time, so that Count Rostov had not time\r
+to signify his approval of them all, and the group increased, dispersed,\r
+re-formed, and then moved with a hum of talk into the largest hall and\r
+to the big table. Not only was Pierre's attempt to speak unsuccessful,\r
+but he was rudely interrupted, pushed aside, and people turned away from\r
+him as from a common enemy. This happened not because they were\r
+displeased by the substance of his speech, which had even been forgotten\r
+after the many subsequent speeches, but to animate it the crowd needed a\r
+tangible object to love and a tangible object to hate. Pierre became the\r
+latter. Many other orators spoke after the excited nobleman, and all in\r
+the same tone. Many spoke eloquently and with originality.\r
+\r
+Glinka, the editor of the Russian Messenger, who was recognized (cries\r
+of "author! author!" were heard in the crowd), said that "hell must be\r
+repulsed by hell," and that he had seen a child smiling at lightning\r
+flashes and thunderclaps, but "we will not be that child."\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes, at thunderclaps!" was repeated approvingly in the back rows\r
+of the crowd.\r
+\r
+The crowd drew up to the large table, at which sat gray-haired or bald\r
+seventy-year-old magnates, uniformed and besashed almost all of whom\r
+Pierre had seen in their own homes with their buffoons, or playing\r
+boston at the clubs. With an incessant hum of voices the crowd advanced\r
+to the table. Pressed by the throng against the high backs of the\r
+chairs, the orators spoke one after another and sometimes two together.\r
+Those standing behind noticed what a speaker omitted to say and hastened\r
+to supply it. Others in that heat and crush racked their brains to find\r
+some thought and hastened to utter it. The old magnates, whom Pierre\r
+knew, sat and turned to look first at one and then at another, and their\r
+faces for the most part only expressed the fact that they found it very\r
+hot. Pierre, however, felt excited, and the general desire to show that\r
+they were ready to go to all lengths--which found expression in the\r
+tones and looks more than in the substance of the speeches--infected him\r
+too. He did not renounce his opinions, but felt himself in some way to\r
+blame and wished to justify himself.\r
+\r
+"I only said that it would be more to the purpose to make sacrifices\r
+when we know what is needed!" said he, trying to be heard above the\r
+other voices.\r
+\r
+One of the old men nearest to him looked round, but his attention was\r
+immediately diverted by an exclamation at the other side of the table.\r
+\r
+"Yes, Moscow will be surrendered! She will be our expiation!" shouted\r
+one man.\r
+\r
+"He is the enemy of mankind!" cried another. "Allow me to speak...."\r
+"Gentlemen, you are crushing me!..."\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXIII\r
+\r
+At that moment Count Rostopchin with his protruding chin and alert eyes,\r
+wearing the uniform of a general with sash over his shoulder, entered\r
+the room, stepping briskly to the front of the crowd of gentry.\r
+\r
+"Our sovereign the Emperor will be here in a moment," said Rostopchin.\r
+"I am straight from the palace. Seeing the position we are in, I think\r
+there is little need for discussion. The Emperor has deigned to summon\r
+us and the merchants. Millions will pour forth from there"--he pointed\r
+to the merchants' hall--"but our business is to supply men and not spare\r
+ourselves... That is the least we can do!"\r
+\r
+A conference took place confined to the magnates sitting at the table.\r
+The whole consultation passed more than quietly. After all the preceding\r
+noise the sound of their old voices saying one after another, "I agree,"\r
+or for variety, "I too am of that opinion," and so on had even a\r
+mournful effect.\r
+\r
+The secretary was told to write down the resolution of the Moscow\r
+nobility and gentry, that they would furnish ten men, fully equipped,\r
+out of every thousand serfs, as the Smolensk gentry had done. Their\r
+chairs made a scraping noise as the gentlemen who had conferred rose\r
+with apparent relief, and began walking up and down, arm in arm, to\r
+stretch their legs and converse in couples.\r
+\r
+"The Emperor! The Emperor!" a sudden cry resounded through the halls and\r
+the whole throng hurried to the entrance.\r
+\r
+The Emperor entered the hall through a broad path between two lines of\r
+nobles. Every face expressed respectful, awe-struck curiosity. Pierre\r
+stood rather far off and could not hear all that the Emperor said. From\r
+what he did hear he understood that the Emperor spoke of the danger\r
+threatening the empire and of the hopes he placed on the Moscow\r
+nobility. He was answered by a voice which informed him of the\r
+resolution just arrived at.\r
+\r
+"Gentlemen!" said the Emperor with a quivering voice.\r
+\r
+There was a rustling among the crowd and it again subsided, so that\r
+Pierre distinctly heard the pleasantly human voice of the Emperor saying\r
+with emotion:\r
+\r
+"I never doubted the devotion of the Russian nobles, but today it has\r
+surpassed my expectations. I thank you in the name of the Fatherland!\r
+Gentlemen, let us act! Time is most precious..."\r
+\r
+The Emperor ceased speaking, the crowd began pressing round him, and\r
+rapturous exclamations were heard from all sides.\r
+\r
+"Yes, most precious... a royal word," said Count Rostov, with a sob. He\r
+stood at the back, and, though he had heard hardly anything, understood\r
+everything in his own way.\r
+\r
+From the hall of the nobility the Emperor went to that of the merchants.\r
+There he remained about ten minutes. Pierre was among those who saw him\r
+come out from the merchants' hall with tears of emotion in his eyes. As\r
+became known later, he had scarcely begun to address the merchants\r
+before tears gushed from his eyes and he concluded in a trembling voice.\r
+When Pierre saw the Emperor he was coming out accompanied by two\r
+merchants, one of whom Pierre knew, a fat otkupshchik. The other was the\r
+mayor, a man with a thin sallow face and narrow beard. Both were\r
+weeping. Tears filled the thin man's eyes, and the fat otkupshchik\r
+sobbed outright like a child and kept repeating:\r
+\r
+"Our lives and property--take them, Your Majesty!"\r
+\r
+Pierre's one feeling at the moment was a desire to show that he was\r
+ready to go all lengths and was prepared to sacrifice everything. He now\r
+felt ashamed of his speech with its constitutional tendency and sought\r
+an opportunity of effacing it. Having heard that Count Mamonov was\r
+furnishing a regiment, Bezukhov at once informed Rostopchin that he\r
+would give a thousand men and their maintenance.\r
+\r
+Old Rostov could not tell his wife of what had passed without tears, and\r
+at once consented to Petya's request and went himself to enter his name.\r
+\r
+Next day the Emperor left Moscow. The assembled nobles all took off\r
+their uniforms and settled down again in their homes and clubs, and not\r
+without some groans gave orders to their stewards about the enrollment,\r
+feeling amazed themselves at what they had done.\r
+\r
+BOOK TEN: 1812\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+Napoleon began the war with Russia because he could not resist going to\r
+Dresden, could not help having his head turned by the homage he\r
+received, could not help donning a Polish uniform and yielding to the\r
+stimulating influence of a June morning, and could not refrain from\r
+bursts of anger in the presence of Kurakin and then of Balashev.\r
+\r
+Alexander refused negotiations because he felt himself to be personally\r
+insulted. Barclay de Tolly tried to command the army in the best way,\r
+because he wished to fulfill his duty and earn fame as a great\r
+commander. Rostov charged the French because he could not restrain his\r
+wish for a gallop across a level field; and in the same way the\r
+innumerable people who took part in the war acted in accord with their\r
+personal characteristics, habits, circumstances, and aims. They were\r
+moved by fear or vanity, rejoiced or were indignant, reasoned, imagining\r
+that they knew what they were doing and did it of their own free will,\r
+but they all were involuntary tools of history, carrying on a work\r
+concealed from them but comprehensible to us. Such is the inevitable\r
+fate of men of action, and the higher they stand in the social hierarchy\r
+the less are they free.\r
+\r
+The actors of 1812 have long since left the stage, their personal\r
+interests have vanished leaving no trace, and nothing remains of that\r
+time but its historic results.\r
+\r
+Providence compelled all these men, striving to attain personal aims, to\r
+further the accomplishment of a stupendous result no one of them at all\r
+expected--neither Napoleon, nor Alexander, nor still less any of those\r
+who did the actual fighting.\r
+\r
+The cause of the destruction of the French army in 1812 is clear to us\r
+now. No one will deny that that cause was, on the one hand, its advance\r
+into the heart of Russia late in the season without any preparation for\r
+a winter campaign and, on the other, the character given to the war by\r
+the burning of Russian towns and the hatred of the foe this aroused\r
+among the Russian people. But no one at the time foresaw (what now seems\r
+so evident) that this was the only way an army of eight hundred thousand\r
+men--the best in the world and led by the best general--could be\r
+destroyed in conflict with a raw army of half its numerical strength,\r
+and led by inexperienced commanders as the Russian army was. Not only\r
+did no one see this, but on the Russian side every effort was made to\r
+hinder the only thing that could save Russia, while on the French side,\r
+despite Napoleon's experience and so-called military genius, every\r
+effort was directed to pushing on to Moscow at the end of the summer,\r
+that is, to doing the very thing that was bound to lead to destruction.\r
+\r
+In historical works on the year 1812 French writers are very fond of\r
+saying that Napoleon felt the danger of extending his line, that he\r
+sought a battle and that his marshals advised him to stop at Smolensk,\r
+and of making similar statements to show that the danger of the campaign\r
+was even then understood. Russian authors are still fonder of telling us\r
+that from the commencement of the campaign a Scythian war plan was\r
+adopted to lure Napoleon into the depths of Russia, and this plan some\r
+of them attribute to Pfuel, others to a certain Frenchman, others to\r
+Toll, and others again to Alexander himself--pointing to notes,\r
+projects, and letters which contain hints of such a line of action. But\r
+all these hints at what happened, both from the French side and the\r
+Russian, are advanced only because they fit in with the event. Had that\r
+event not occurred these hints would have been forgotten, as we have\r
+forgotten the thousands and millions of hints and expectations to the\r
+contrary which were current then but have now been forgotten because the\r
+event falsified them. There are always so many conjectures as to the\r
+issue of any event that however it may end there will always be people\r
+to say: "I said then that it would be so," quite forgetting that amid\r
+their innumerable conjectures many were to quite the contrary effect.\r
+\r
+Conjectures as to Napoleon's awareness of the danger of extending his\r
+line, and (on the Russian side) as to luring the enemy into the depths\r
+of Russia, are evidently of that kind, and only by much straining can\r
+historians attribute such conceptions to Napoleon and his marshals, or\r
+such plans to the Russian commanders. All the facts are in flat\r
+contradiction to such conjectures. During the whole period of the war\r
+not only was there no wish on the Russian side to draw the French into\r
+the heart of the country, but from their first entry into Russia\r
+everything was done to stop them. And not only was Napoleon not afraid\r
+to extend his line, but he welcomed every step forward as a triumph and\r
+did not seek battle as eagerly as in former campaigns, but very lazily.\r
+\r
+At the very beginning of the war our armies were divided, and our sole\r
+aim was to unite them, though uniting the armies was no advantage if we\r
+meant to retire and lure the enemy into the depths of the country. Our\r
+Emperor joined the army to encourage it to defend every inch of Russian\r
+soil and not to retreat. The enormous Drissa camp was formed on Pfuel's\r
+plan, and there was no intention of retiring farther. The Emperor\r
+reproached the commanders in chief for every step they retired. He could\r
+not bear the idea of letting the enemy even reach Smolensk, still less\r
+could he contemplate the burning of Moscow, and when our armies did\r
+unite he was displeased that Smolensk was abandoned and burned without a\r
+general engagement having been fought under its walls.\r
+\r
+So thought the Emperor, and the Russian commanders and people were still\r
+more provoked at the thought that our forces were retreating into the\r
+depths of the country.\r
+\r
+Napoleon having cut our armies apart advanced far into the country and\r
+missed several chances of forcing an engagement. In August he was at\r
+Smolensk and thought only of how to advance farther, though as we now\r
+see that advance was evidently ruinous to him.\r
+\r
+The facts clearly show that Napoleon did not foresee the danger of the\r
+advance on Moscow, nor did Alexander and the Russian commanders then\r
+think of luring Napoleon on, but quite the contrary. The luring of\r
+Napoleon into the depths of the country was not the result of any plan,\r
+for no one believed it to be possible; it resulted from a most complex\r
+interplay of intrigues, aims, and wishes among those who took part in\r
+the war and had no perception whatever of the inevitable, or of the one\r
+way of saving Russia. Everything came about fortuitously. The armies\r
+were divided at the commencement of the campaign. We tried to unite\r
+them, with the evident intention of giving battle and checking the\r
+enemy's advance, and by this effort to unite them while avoiding battle\r
+with a much stronger enemy, and necessarily withdrawing the armies at an\r
+acute angle--we led the French on to Smolensk. But we withdrew at an\r
+acute angle not only because the French advanced between our two armies;\r
+the angle became still more acute and we withdrew still farther, because\r
+Barclay de Tolly was an unpopular foreigner disliked by Bagration (who\r
+would come under his command), and Bagration--being in command of the\r
+second army--tried to postpone joining up and coming under Barclay's\r
+command as long as he could. Bagration was slow in effecting the\r
+junction--though that was the chief aim of all at headquarters--because,\r
+as he alleged, he exposed his army to danger on this march, and it was\r
+best for him to retire more to the left and more to the south, worrying\r
+the enemy from flank and rear and securing from the Ukraine recruits for\r
+his army; and it looks as if he planned this in order not to come under\r
+the command of the detested foreigner Barclay, whose rank was inferior\r
+to his own.\r
+\r
+The Emperor was with the army to encourage it, but his presence and\r
+ignorance of what steps to take, and the enormous number of advisers and\r
+plans, destroyed the first army's energy and it retired.\r
+\r
+The intention was to make a stand at the Drissa camp, but Paulucci,\r
+aiming at becoming commander-in-chief, unexpectedly employed his energy\r
+to influence Alexander, and Pfuel's whole plan was abandoned and the\r
+command entrusted to Barclay. But as Barclay did not inspire confidence\r
+his power was limited. The armies were divided, there was no unity of\r
+command, and Barclay was unpopular; but from this confusion, division,\r
+and the unpopularity of the foreign commander-in-chief, there resulted\r
+on the one hand indecision and the avoidance of a battle (which we could\r
+not have refrained from had the armies been united and had someone else,\r
+instead of Barclay, been in command) and on the other an ever-increasing\r
+indignation against the foreigners and an increase in patriotic zeal.\r
+\r
+At last the Emperor left the army, and as the most convenient and indeed\r
+the only pretext for his departure it was decided that it was necessary\r
+for him to inspire the people in the capitals and arouse the nation in\r
+general to a patriotic war. And by this visit of the Emperor to Moscow\r
+the strength of the Russian army was trebled.\r
+\r
+He left in order not to obstruct the commander-in-chief's undivided\r
+control of the army, and hoping that more decisive action would then be\r
+taken, but the command of the armies became still more confused and\r
+enfeebled. Bennigsen, the Tsarevich, and a swarm of adjutants general\r
+remained with the army to keep the commander-in-chief under observation\r
+and arouse his energy, and Barclay, feeling less free than ever under\r
+the observation of all these "eyes of the Emperor," became still more\r
+cautious of undertaking any decisive action and avoided giving battle.\r
+\r
+Barclay stood for caution. The Tsarevich hinted at treachery and\r
+demanded a general engagement. Lubomirski, Bronnitski, Wlocki, and the\r
+others of that group stirred up so much trouble that Barclay, under\r
+pretext of sending papers to the Emperor, dispatched these Polish\r
+adjutants general to Petersburg and plunged into an open struggle with\r
+Bennigsen and the Tsarevich.\r
+\r
+At Smolensk the armies at last reunited, much as Bagration disliked it.\r
+\r
+Bagration drove up in a carriage to the house occupied by Barclay.\r
+Barclay donned his sash and came out to meet and report to his senior\r
+officer Bagration.\r
+\r
+Despite his seniority in rank Bagration, in this contest of magnanimity,\r
+took his orders from Barclay, but, having submitted, agreed with him\r
+less than ever. By the Emperor's orders Bagration reported direct to\r
+him. He wrote to Arakcheev, the Emperor's confidant: "It must be as my\r
+sovereign pleases, but I cannot work with the Minister (meaning\r
+Barclay). For God's sake send me somewhere else if only in command of a\r
+regiment. I cannot stand it here. Headquarters are so full of Germans\r
+that a Russian cannot exist and there is no sense in anything. I thought\r
+I was really serving my sovereign and the Fatherland, but it turns out\r
+that I am serving Barclay. I confess I do not want to."\r
+\r
+The swarm of Bronnitskis and Wintzingerodes and their like still further\r
+embittered the relations between the commanders in chief, and even less\r
+unity resulted. Preparations were made to fight the French before\r
+Smolensk. A general was sent to survey the position. This general,\r
+hating Barclay, rode to visit a friend of his own, a corps commander,\r
+and, having spent the day with him, returned to Barclay and condemned,\r
+as unsuitable from every point of view, the battleground he had not\r
+seen.\r
+\r
+While disputes and intrigues were going on about the future field of\r
+battle, and while we were looking for the French--having lost touch with\r
+them--the French stumbled upon Neverovski's division and reached the\r
+walls of Smolensk.\r
+\r
+It was necessary to fight an unexpected battle at Smolensk to save our\r
+lines of communication. The battle was fought and thousands were killed\r
+on both sides.\r
+\r
+Smolensk was abandoned contrary to the wishes of the Emperor and of the\r
+whole people. But Smolensk was burned by its own inhabitants-who had\r
+been misled by their governor. And these ruined inhabitants, setting an\r
+example to other Russians, went to Moscow thinking only of their own\r
+losses but kindling hatred of the foe. Napoleon advanced farther and we\r
+retired, thus arriving at the very result which caused his destruction.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+The day after his son had left, Prince Nicholas sent for Princess Mary\r
+to come to his study.\r
+\r
+"Well? Are you satisfied now?" said he. "You've made me quarrel with my\r
+son! Satisfied, are you? That's all you wanted! Satisfied?... It hurts\r
+me, it hurts. I'm old and weak and this is what you wanted. Well then,\r
+gloat over it! Gloat over it!"\r
+\r
+After that Princess Mary did not see her father for a whole week. He was\r
+ill and did not leave his study.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary noticed to her surprise that during this illness the old\r
+prince not only excluded her from his room, but did not admit\r
+Mademoiselle Bourienne either. Tikhon alone attended him.\r
+\r
+At the end of the week the prince reappeared and resumed his former way\r
+of life, devoting himself with special activity to building operations\r
+and the arrangement of the gardens and completely breaking off his\r
+relations with Mademoiselle Bourienne. His looks and cold tone to his\r
+daughter seemed to say: "There, you see? You plotted against me, you\r
+lied to Prince Andrew about my relations with that Frenchwoman and made\r
+me quarrel with him, but you see I need neither her nor you!"\r
+\r
+Princess Mary spent half of every day with little Nicholas, watching his\r
+lessons, teaching him Russian and music herself, and talking to\r
+Dessalles; the rest of the day she spent over her books, with her old\r
+nurse, or with "God's folk" who sometimes came by the back door to see\r
+her.\r
+\r
+Of the war Princess Mary thought as women do think about wars. She\r
+feared for her brother who was in it, was horrified by and amazed at the\r
+strange cruelty that impels men to kill one another, but she did not\r
+understand the significance of this war, which seemed to her like all\r
+previous wars. She did not realize the significance of this war, though\r
+Dessalles with whom she constantly conversed was passionately interested\r
+in its progress and tried to explain his own conception of it to her,\r
+and though the "God's folk" who came to see her reported, in their own\r
+way, the rumors current among the people of an invasion by Antichrist,\r
+and though Julie (now Princess Drubetskaya), who had resumed\r
+correspondence with her, wrote patriotic letters from Moscow.\r
+\r
+"I write you in Russian, my good friend," wrote Julie in her Frenchified\r
+Russian, "because I have a detestation for all the French, and the same\r
+for their language which I cannot support to hear spoken.... We in\r
+Moscow are elated by enthusiasm for our adored Emperor.\r
+\r
+"My poor husband is enduring pains and hunger in Jewish taverns, but the\r
+news which I have inspires me yet more.\r
+\r
+"You heard probably of the heroic exploit of Raevski, embracing his two\r
+sons and saying: 'I will perish with them but we will not be shaken!'\r
+And truly though the enemy was twice stronger than we, we were\r
+unshakable. We pass the time as we can, but in war as in war! The\r
+princesses Aline and Sophie sit whole days with me, and we, unhappy\r
+widows of live men, make beautiful conversations over our 'charpie',\r
+only you, my friend, are missing..." and so on.\r
+\r
+The chief reason Princess Mary did not realize the full significance of\r
+this war was that the old prince never spoke of it, did not recognize\r
+it, and laughed at Dessalles when he mentioned it at dinner. The\r
+prince's tone was so calm and confident that Princess Mary\r
+unhesitatingly believed him.\r
+\r
+All that July the old prince was exceedingly active and even animated.\r
+He planned another garden and began a new building for the domestic\r
+serfs. The only thing that made Princess Mary anxious about him was that\r
+he slept very little and, instead of sleeping in his study as usual,\r
+changed his sleeping place every day. One day he would order his camp\r
+bed to be set up in the glass gallery, another day he remained on the\r
+couch or on the lounge chair in the drawing room and dozed there without\r
+undressing, while--instead of Mademoiselle Bourienne--a serf boy read to\r
+him. Then again he would spend a night in the dining room.\r
+\r
+On August 1, a second letter was received from Prince Andrew. In his\r
+first letter which came soon after he had left home, Prince Andrew had\r
+dutifully asked his father's forgiveness for what he had allowed himself\r
+to say and begged to be restored to his favor. To this letter the old\r
+prince had replied affectionately, and from that time had kept the\r
+Frenchwoman at a distance. Prince Andrew's second letter, written near\r
+Vitebsk after the French had occupied that town, gave a brief account of\r
+the whole campaign, enclosed for them a plan he had drawn and forecasts\r
+as to the further progress of the war. In this letter Prince Andrew\r
+pointed out to his father the danger of staying at Bald Hills, so near\r
+the theater of war and on the army's direct line of march, and advised\r
+him to move to Moscow.\r
+\r
+At dinner that day, on Dessalles' mentioning that the French were said\r
+to have already entered Vitebsk, the old prince remembered his son's\r
+letter.\r
+\r
+"There was a letter from Prince Andrew today," he said to Princess Mary-\r
+-"Haven't you read it?"\r
+\r
+"No, Father," she replied in a frightened voice.\r
+\r
+She could not have read the letter as she did not even know it had\r
+arrived.\r
+\r
+"He writes about this war," said the prince, with the ironic smile that\r
+had become habitual to him in speaking of the present war.\r
+\r
+"That must be very interesting," said Dessalles. "Prince Andrew is in a\r
+position to know..."\r
+\r
+"Oh, very interesting!" said Mademoiselle Bourienne.\r
+\r
+"Go and get it for me," said the old prince to Mademoiselle Bourienne.\r
+"You know--under the paperweight on the little table."\r
+\r
+Mademoiselle Bourienne jumped up eagerly.\r
+\r
+"No, don't!" he exclaimed with a frown. "You go, Michael Ivanovich."\r
+\r
+Michael Ivanovich rose and went to the study. But as soon as he had left\r
+the room the old prince, looking uneasily round, threw down his napkin\r
+and went himself.\r
+\r
+"They can't do anything... always make some muddle," he muttered.\r
+\r
+While he was away Princess Mary, Dessalles, Mademoiselle Bourienne, and\r
+even little Nicholas exchanged looks in silence. The old prince returned\r
+with quick steps, accompanied by Michael Ivanovich, bringing the letter\r
+and a plan. These he put down beside him--not letting anyone read them\r
+at dinner.\r
+\r
+On moving to the drawing room he handed the letter to Princess Mary and,\r
+spreading out before him the plan of the new building and fixing his\r
+eyes upon it, told her to read the letter aloud. When she had done so\r
+Princess Mary looked inquiringly at her father. He was examining the\r
+plan, evidently engrossed in his own ideas.\r
+\r
+"What do you think of it, Prince?" Dessalles ventured to ask.\r
+\r
+"I? I?..." said the prince as if unpleasantly awakened, and not taking\r
+his eyes from the plan of the building.\r
+\r
+"Very possibly the theater of war will move so near to us that..."\r
+\r
+"Ha ha ha! The theater of war!" said the prince. "I have said and still\r
+say that the theater of war is Poland and the enemy will never get\r
+beyond the Niemen."\r
+\r
+Dessalles looked in amazement at the prince, who was talking of the\r
+Niemen when the enemy was already at the Dnieper, but Princess Mary,\r
+forgetting the geographical position of the Niemen, thought that what\r
+her father was saying was correct.\r
+\r
+"When the snow melts they'll sink in the Polish swamps. Only they could\r
+fail to see it," the prince continued, evidently thinking of the\r
+campaign of 1807 which seemed to him so recent. "Bennigsen should have\r
+advanced into Prussia sooner, then things would have taken a different\r
+turn..."\r
+\r
+"But, Prince," Dessalles began timidly, "the letter mentions\r
+Vitebsk...."\r
+\r
+"Ah, the letter? Yes..." replied the prince peevishly. "Yes... yes..."\r
+His face suddenly took on a morose expression. He paused. "Yes, he\r
+writes that the French were beaten at... at... what river is it?"\r
+\r
+Dessalles dropped his eyes.\r
+\r
+"The prince says nothing about that," he remarked gently.\r
+\r
+"Doesn't he? But I didn't invent it myself."\r
+\r
+No one spoke for a long time.\r
+\r
+"Yes... yes... Well, Michael Ivanovich," he suddenly went on, raising\r
+his head and pointing to the plan of the building, "tell me how you mean\r
+to alter it...."\r
+\r
+Michael Ivanovich went up to the plan, and the prince after speaking to\r
+him about the building looked angrily at Princess Mary and Dessalles and\r
+went to his own room.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary saw Dessalles' embarrassed and astonished look fixed on\r
+her father, noticed his silence, and was struck by the fact that her\r
+father had forgotten his son's letter on the drawing-room table; but she\r
+was not only afraid to speak of it and ask Dessalles the reason of his\r
+confusion and silence, but was afraid even to think about it.\r
+\r
+In the evening Michael Ivanovich, sent by the prince, came to Princess\r
+Mary for Prince Andrew's letter which had been forgotten in the drawing\r
+room. She gave it to him and, unpleasant as it was to her to do so,\r
+ventured to ask him what her father was doing.\r
+\r
+"Always busy," replied Michael Ivanovich with a respectfully ironic\r
+smile which caused Princess Mary to turn pale. "He's worrying very much\r
+about the new building. He has been reading a little, but now"--Michael\r
+Ivanovich went on, lowering his voice--"now he's at his desk, busy with\r
+his will, I expect." (One of the prince's favorite occupations of late\r
+had been the preparation of some papers he meant to leave at his death\r
+and which he called his "will.")\r
+\r
+"And Alpatych is being sent to Smolensk?" asked Princess Mary.\r
+\r
+"Oh, yes, he has been waiting to start for some time."\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+When Michael Ivanovich returned to the study with the letter, the old\r
+prince, with spectacles on and a shade over his eyes, was sitting at his\r
+open bureau with screened candles, holding a paper in his outstretched\r
+hand, and in a somewhat dramatic attitude was reading his manuscript--\r
+his "Remarks" as he termed it--which was to be transmitted to the\r
+Emperor after his death.\r
+\r
+When Michael Ivanovich went in there were tears in the prince's eyes\r
+evoked by the memory of the time when the paper he was now reading had\r
+been written. He took the letter from Michael Ivanovich's hand, put it\r
+in his pocket, folded up his papers, and called in Alpatych who had long\r
+been waiting.\r
+\r
+The prince had a list of things to be bought in Smolensk and, walking up\r
+and down the room past Alpatych who stood by the door, he gave his\r
+instructions.\r
+\r
+"First, notepaper--do you hear? Eight quires, like this sample, gilt-\r
+edged... it must be exactly like the sample. Varnish, sealing wax, as in\r
+Michael Ivanovich's list."\r
+\r
+He paced up and down for a while and glanced at his notes.\r
+\r
+"Then hand to the governor in person a letter about the deed."\r
+\r
+Next, bolts for the doors of the new building were wanted and had to be\r
+of a special shape the prince had himself designed, and a leather case\r
+had to be ordered to keep the "will" in.\r
+\r
+The instructions to Alpatych took over two hours and still the prince\r
+did not let him go. He sat down, sank into thought, closed his eyes, and\r
+dozed off. Alpatych made a slight movement.\r
+\r
+"Well, go, go! If anything more is wanted I'll send after you."\r
+\r
+Alpatych went out. The prince again went to his bureau, glanced into it,\r
+fingered his papers, closed the bureau again, and sat down at the table\r
+to write to the governor.\r
+\r
+It was already late when he rose after sealing the letter. He wished to\r
+sleep, but he knew he would not be able to and that most depressing\r
+thoughts came to him in bed. So he called Tikhon and went through the\r
+rooms with him to show him where to set up the bed for that night.\r
+\r
+He went about looking at every corner. Every place seemed\r
+unsatisfactory, but worst of all was his customary couch in the study.\r
+That couch was dreadful to him, probably because of the oppressive\r
+thoughts he had had when lying there. It was unsatisfactory everywhere,\r
+but the corner behind the piano in the sitting room was better than\r
+other places: he had never slept there yet.\r
+\r
+With the help of a footman Tikhon brought in the bedstead and began\r
+putting it up.\r
+\r
+"That's not right! That's not right!" cried the prince, and himself\r
+pushed it a few inches from the corner and then closer in again.\r
+\r
+"Well, at last I've finished, now I'll rest," thought the prince, and\r
+let Tikhon undress him.\r
+\r
+Frowning with vexation at the effort necessary to divest himself of his\r
+coat and trousers, the prince undressed, sat down heavily on the bed,\r
+and appeared to be meditating as he looked contemptuously at his\r
+withered yellow legs. He was not meditating, but only deferring the\r
+moment of making the effort to lift those legs up and turn over on the\r
+bed. "Ugh, how hard it is! Oh, that this toil might end and you would\r
+release me!" thought he. Pressing his lips together he made that effort\r
+for the twenty-thousandth time and lay down. But hardly had he done so\r
+before he felt the bed rocking backwards and forwards beneath him as if\r
+it were breathing heavily and jolting. This happened to him almost every\r
+night. He opened his eyes as they were closing.\r
+\r
+"No peace, damn them!" he muttered, angry he knew not with whom. "Ah\r
+yes, there was something else important, very important, that I was\r
+keeping till I should be in bed. The bolts? No, I told him about them.\r
+No, it was something, something in the drawing room. Princess Mary\r
+talked some nonsense. Dessalles, that fool, said something. Something in\r
+my pocket--can't remember..."\r
+\r
+"Tikhon, what did we talk about at dinner?"\r
+\r
+"About Prince Michael..."\r
+\r
+"Be quiet, quiet!" The prince slapped his hand on the table. "Yes, I\r
+know, Prince Andrew's letter! Princess Mary read it. Dessalles said\r
+something about Vitebsk. Now I'll read it."\r
+\r
+He had the letter taken from his pocket and the table--on which stood a\r
+glass of lemonade and a spiral wax candle--moved close to the bed, and\r
+putting on his spectacles he began reading. Only now in the stillness of\r
+the night, reading it by the faint light under the green shade, did he\r
+grasp its meaning for a moment.\r
+\r
+"The French at Vitebsk, in four days' march they may be at Smolensk;\r
+perhaps are already there! Tikhon!" Tikhon jumped up. "No, no, I don't\r
+want anything!" he shouted.\r
+\r
+He put the letter under the candlestick and closed his eyes. And there\r
+rose before him the Danube at bright noonday: reeds, the Russian camp,\r
+and himself a young general without a wrinkle on his ruddy face,\r
+vigorous and alert, entering Potemkin's gaily colored tent, and a\r
+burning sense of jealousy of "the favorite" agitated him now as strongly\r
+as it had done then. He recalled all the words spoken at that first\r
+meeting with Potemkin. And he saw before him a plump, rather sallow-\r
+faced, short, stout woman, the Empress Mother, with her smile and her\r
+words at her first gracious reception of him, and then that same face on\r
+the catafalque, and the encounter he had with Zubov over her coffin\r
+about his right to kiss her hand.\r
+\r
+"Oh, quicker, quicker! To get back to that time and have done with all\r
+the present! Quicker, quicker--and that they should leave me in peace!"\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+Bald Hills, Prince Nicholas Bolkonski's estate, lay forty miles east\r
+from Smolensk and two miles from the main road to Moscow.\r
+\r
+The same evening that the prince gave his instructions to Alpatych,\r
+Dessalles, having asked to see Princess Mary, told her that, as the\r
+prince was not very well and was taking no steps to secure his safety,\r
+though from Prince Andrew's letter it was evident that to remain at Bald\r
+Hills might be dangerous, he respectfully advised her to send a letter\r
+by Alpatych to the Provincial Governor at Smolensk, asking him to let\r
+her know the state of affairs and the extent of the danger to which Bald\r
+Hills was exposed. Dessalles wrote this letter to the Governor for\r
+Princess Mary, she signed it, and it was given to Alpatych with\r
+instructions to hand it to the Governor and to come back as quickly as\r
+possible if there was danger.\r
+\r
+Having received all his orders Alpatych, wearing a white beaver hat--a\r
+present from the prince--and carrying a stick as the prince did, went\r
+out accompanied by his family. Three well-fed roans stood ready\r
+harnessed to a small conveyance with a leather hood.\r
+\r
+The larger bell was muffled and the little bells on the harness stuffed\r
+with paper. The prince allowed no one at Bald Hills to drive with\r
+ringing bells; but on a long journey Alpatych liked to have them. His\r
+satellites--the senior clerk, a countinghouse clerk, a scullery maid, a\r
+cook, two old women, a little pageboy, the coachman, and various\r
+domestic serfs--were seeing him off.\r
+\r
+His daughter placed chintz-covered down cushions for him to sit on and\r
+behind his back. His old sister-in-law popped in a small bundle, and one\r
+of the coachmen helped him into the vehicle.\r
+\r
+"There! There! Women's fuss! Women, women!" said Alpatych, puffing and\r
+speaking rapidly just as the prince did, and he climbed into the trap.\r
+\r
+After giving the clerk orders about the work to be done, Alpatych, not\r
+trying to imitate the prince now, lifted the hat from his bald head and\r
+crossed himself three times.\r
+\r
+"If there is anything... come back, Yakov Alpatych! For Christ's sake\r
+think of us!" cried his wife, referring to the rumors of war and the\r
+enemy.\r
+\r
+"Women, women! Women's fuss!" muttered Alpatych to himself and started\r
+on his journey, looking round at the fields of yellow rye and the still-\r
+green, thickly growing oats, and at other quite black fields just being\r
+plowed a second time.\r
+\r
+As he went along he looked with pleasure at the year's splendid crop of\r
+corn, scrutinized the strips of ryefield which here and there were\r
+already being reaped, made his calculations as to the sowing and the\r
+harvest, and asked himself whether he had not forgotten any of the\r
+prince's orders.\r
+\r
+Having baited the horses twice on the way, he arrived at the town toward\r
+evening on the fourth of August.\r
+\r
+Alpatych kept meeting and overtaking baggage trains and troops on the\r
+road. As he approached Smolensk he heard the sounds of distant firing,\r
+but these did not impress him. What struck him most was the sight of a\r
+splendid field of oats in which a camp had been pitched and which was\r
+being mown down by the soldiers, evidently for fodder. This fact\r
+impressed Alpatych, but in thinking about his own business he soon\r
+forgot it.\r
+\r
+All the interests of his life for more than thirty years had been\r
+bounded by the will of the prince, and he never went beyond that limit.\r
+Everything not connected with the execution of the prince's orders did\r
+not interest and did not even exist for Alpatych.\r
+\r
+On reaching Smolensk on the evening of the fourth of August he put up in\r
+the Gachina suburb across the Dnieper, at the inn kept by Ferapontov,\r
+where he had been in the habit of putting up for the last thirty years.\r
+Some thirty years ago Ferapontov, by Alpatych's advice, had bought a\r
+wood from the prince, had begun to trade, and now had a house, an inn,\r
+and a corn dealer's shop in that province. He was a stout, dark, red-\r
+faced peasant in the forties, with thick lips, a broad knob of a nose,\r
+similar knobs over his black frowning brows, and a round belly.\r
+\r
+Wearing a waistcoat over his cotton shirt, Ferapontov was standing\r
+before his shop which opened onto the street. On seeing Alpatych he went\r
+up to him.\r
+\r
+"You're welcome, Yakov Alpatych. Folks are leaving the town, but you\r
+have come to it," said he.\r
+\r
+"Why are they leaving the town?" asked Alpatych.\r
+\r
+"That's what I say. Folks are foolish! Always afraid of the French."\r
+\r
+"Women's fuss, women's fuss!" said Alpatych.\r
+\r
+"Just what I think, Yakov Alpatych. What I say is: orders have been\r
+given not to let them in, so that must be right. And the peasants are\r
+asking three rubles for carting--it isn't Christian!"\r
+\r
+Yakov Alpatych heard without heeding. He asked for a samovar and for hay\r
+for his horses, and when he had had his tea he went to bed.\r
+\r
+All night long troops were moving past the inn. Next morning Alpatych\r
+donned a jacket he wore only in town and went out on business. It was a\r
+sunny morning and by eight o'clock it was already hot. "A good day for\r
+harvesting," thought Alpatych.\r
+\r
+From beyond the town firing had been heard since early morning. At eight\r
+o'clock the booming of cannon was added to the sound of musketry. Many\r
+people were hurrying through the streets and there were many soldiers,\r
+but cabs were still driving about, tradesmen stood at their shops, and\r
+service was being held in the churches as usual. Alpatych went to the\r
+shops, to government offices, to the post office, and to the Governor's.\r
+In the offices and shops and at the post office everyone was talking\r
+about the army and about the enemy who was already attacking the town,\r
+everybody was asking what should be done, and all were trying to calm\r
+one another.\r
+\r
+In front of the Governor's house Alpatych found a large number of\r
+people, Cossacks, and a traveling carriage of the Governor's. At the\r
+porch he met two of the landed gentry, one of whom he knew. This man, an\r
+ex-captain of police, was saying angrily:\r
+\r
+"It's no joke, you know! It's all very well if you're single. 'One man\r
+though undone is but one,' as the proverb says, but with thirteen in\r
+your family and all the property... They've brought us to utter ruin!\r
+What sort of governors are they to do that? They ought to be hanged--the\r
+brigands!..."\r
+\r
+"Oh come, that's enough!" said the other.\r
+\r
+"What do I care? Let him hear! We're not dogs," said the ex-captain of\r
+police, and looking round he noticed Alpatych.\r
+\r
+"Oh, Yakov Alpatych! What have you come for?"\r
+\r
+"To see the Governor by his excellency's order," answered Alpatych,\r
+lifting his head and proudly thrusting his hand into the bosom of his\r
+coat as he always did when he mentioned the prince.... "He has ordered\r
+me to inquire into the position of affairs," he added.\r
+\r
+"Yes, go and find out!" shouted the angry gentleman. "They've brought\r
+things to such a pass that there are no carts or anything!... There it\r
+is again, do you hear?" said he, pointing in the direction whence came\r
+the sounds of firing.\r
+\r
+"They've brought us all to ruin... the brigands!" he repeated, and\r
+descended the porch steps.\r
+\r
+Alpatych swayed his head and went upstairs. In the waiting room were\r
+tradesmen, women, and officials, looking silently at one another. The\r
+door of the Governor's room opened and they all rose and moved forward.\r
+An official ran out, said some words to a merchant, called a stout\r
+official with a cross hanging on his neck to follow him, and vanished\r
+again, evidently wishing to avoid the inquiring looks and questions\r
+addressed to him. Alpatych moved forward and next time the official came\r
+out addressed him, one hand placed in the breast of his buttoned coat,\r
+and handed him two letters.\r
+\r
+"To his Honor Baron Asch, from General-in-Chief Prince Bolkonski," he\r
+announced with such solemnity and significance that the official turned\r
+to him and took the letters.\r
+\r
+A few minutes later the Governor received Alpatych and hurriedly said to\r
+him:\r
+\r
+"Inform the prince and princess that I knew nothing: I acted on the\r
+highest instructions--here..." and he handed a paper to Alpatych.\r
+"Still, as the prince is unwell my advice is that they should go to\r
+Moscow. I am just starting myself. Inform them..."\r
+\r
+But the Governor did not finish: a dusty perspiring officer ran into the\r
+room and began to say something in French. The Governor's face expressed\r
+terror.\r
+\r
+"Go," he said, nodding his head to Alpatych, and began questioning the\r
+officer.\r
+\r
+Eager, frightened, helpless glances were turned on Alpatych when he came\r
+out of the Governor's room. Involuntarily listening now to the firing,\r
+which had drawn nearer and was increasing in strength, Alpatych hurried\r
+to his inn. The paper handed to him by the Governor said this:\r
+\r
+"I assure you that the town of Smolensk is not in the slightest danger\r
+as yet and it is unlikely that it will be threatened with any. I from\r
+the one side and Prince Bagration from the other are marching to unite\r
+our forces before Smolensk, which junction will be effected on the 22nd\r
+instant, and both armies with their united forces will defend our\r
+compatriots of the province entrusted to your care till our efforts\r
+shall have beaten back the enemies of our Fatherland, or till the last\r
+warrior in our valiant ranks has perished. From this you will see that\r
+you have a perfect right to reassure the inhabitants of Smolensk, for\r
+those defended by two such brave armies may feel assured of victory."\r
+(Instructions from Barclay de Tolly to Baron Asch, the civil governor of\r
+Smolensk, 1812.)\r
+\r
+People were anxiously roaming about the streets.\r
+\r
+Carts piled high with household utensils, chairs, and cupboards kept\r
+emerging from the gates of the yards and moving along the streets.\r
+Loaded carts stood at the house next to Ferapontov's and women were\r
+wailing and lamenting as they said good-by. A small watchdog ran round\r
+barking in front of the harnessed horses.\r
+\r
+Alpatych entered the innyard at a quicker pace than usual and went\r
+straight to the shed where his horses and trap were. The coachman was\r
+asleep. He woke him up, told him to harness, and went into the passage.\r
+From the host's room came the sounds of a child crying, the despairing\r
+sobs of a woman, and the hoarse angry shouting of Ferapontov. The cook\r
+began running hither and thither in the passage like a frightened hen,\r
+just as Alpatych entered.\r
+\r
+"He's done her to death. Killed the mistress!... Beat her... dragged her\r
+about so!..."\r
+\r
+"What for?" asked Alpatych.\r
+\r
+"She kept begging to go away. She's a woman! 'Take me away,' says she,\r
+'don't let me perish with my little children! Folks,' she says, 'are all\r
+gone, so why,' she says, 'don't we go?' And he began beating and pulling\r
+her about so!"\r
+\r
+At these words Alpatych nodded as if in approval, and not wishing to\r
+hear more went to the door of the room opposite the innkeeper's, where\r
+he had left his purchases.\r
+\r
+"You brute, you murderer!" screamed a thin, pale woman who, with a baby\r
+in her arms and her kerchief torn from her head, burst through the door\r
+at that moment and down the steps into the yard.\r
+\r
+Ferapontov came out after her, but on seeing Alpatych adjusted his\r
+waistcoat, smoothed his hair, yawned, and followed Alpatych into the\r
+opposite room.\r
+\r
+"Going already?" said he.\r
+\r
+Alpatych, without answering or looking at his host, sorted his packages\r
+and asked how much he owed.\r
+\r
+"We'll reckon up! Well, have you been to the Governor's?" asked\r
+Ferapontov. "What has been decided?"\r
+\r
+Alpatych replied that the Governor had not told him anything definite.\r
+\r
+"With our business, how can we get away?" said Ferapontov. "We'd have to\r
+pay seven rubles a cartload to Dorogobuzh and I tell them they're not\r
+Christians to ask it! Selivanov, now, did a good stroke last Thursday--\r
+sold flour to the army at nine rubles a sack. Will you have some tea?"\r
+he added.\r
+\r
+While the horses were being harnessed Alpatych and Ferapontov over their\r
+tea talked of the price of corn, the crops, and the good weather for\r
+harvesting.\r
+\r
+"Well, it seems to be getting quieter," remarked Ferapontov, finishing\r
+his third cup of tea and getting up. "Ours must have got the best of it.\r
+The orders were not to let them in. So we're in force, it seems.... They\r
+say the other day Matthew Ivanych Platov drove them into the river\r
+Marina and drowned some eighteen thousand in one day."\r
+\r
+Alpatych collected his parcels, handed them to the coachman who had come\r
+in, and settled up with the innkeeper. The noise of wheels, hoofs, and\r
+bells was heard from the gateway as a little trap passed out.\r
+\r
+It was by now late in the afternoon. Half the street was in shadow, the\r
+other half brightly lit by the sun. Alpatych looked out of the window\r
+and went to the door. Suddenly the strange sound of a far-off whistling\r
+and thud was heard, followed by a boom of cannon blending into a dull\r
+roar that set the windows rattling.\r
+\r
+He went out into the street: two men were running past toward the\r
+bridge. From different sides came whistling sounds and the thud of\r
+cannon balls and bursting shells falling on the town. But these sounds\r
+were hardly heard in comparison with the noise of the firing outside the\r
+town and attracted little attention from the inhabitants. The town was\r
+being bombarded by a hundred and thirty guns which Napoleon had ordered\r
+up after four o'clock. The people did not at once realize the meaning of\r
+this bombardment.\r
+\r
+At first the noise of the falling bombs and shells only aroused\r
+curiosity. Ferapontov's wife, who till then had not ceased wailing under\r
+the shed, became quiet and with the baby in her arms went to the gate,\r
+listening to the sounds and looking in silence at the people.\r
+\r
+The cook and a shop assistant came to the gate. With lively curiosity\r
+everyone tried to get a glimpse of the projectiles as they flew over\r
+their heads. Several people came round the corner talking eagerly.\r
+\r
+"What force!" remarked one. "Knocked the roof and ceiling all to\r
+splinters!"\r
+\r
+"Routed up the earth like a pig," said another.\r
+\r
+"That's grand, it bucks one up!" laughed the first. "Lucky you jumped\r
+aside, or it would have wiped you out!"\r
+\r
+Others joined those men and stopped and told how cannon balls had fallen\r
+on a house close to them. Meanwhile still more projectiles, now with the\r
+swift sinister whistle of a cannon ball, now with the agreeable\r
+intermittent whistle of a shell, flew over people's heads incessantly,\r
+but not one fell close by, they all flew over. Alpatych was getting into\r
+his trap. The innkeeper stood at the gate.\r
+\r
+"What are you staring at?" he shouted to the cook, who in her red skirt,\r
+with sleeves rolled up, swinging her bare elbows, had stepped to the\r
+corner to listen to what was being said.\r
+\r
+"What marvels!" she exclaimed, but hearing her master's voice she turned\r
+back, pulling down her tucked-up skirt.\r
+\r
+Once more something whistled, but this time quite close, swooping\r
+downwards like a little bird; a flame flashed in the middle of the\r
+street, something exploded, and the street was shrouded in smoke.\r
+\r
+"Scoundrel, what are you doing?" shouted the innkeeper, rushing to the\r
+cook.\r
+\r
+At that moment the pitiful wailing of women was heard from different\r
+sides, the frightened baby began to cry, and people crowded silently\r
+with pale faces round the cook. The loudest sound in that crowd was her\r
+wailing.\r
+\r
+"Oh-h-h! Dear souls, dear kind souls! Don't let me die! My good\r
+souls!..."\r
+\r
+Five minutes later no one remained in the street. The cook, with her\r
+thigh broken by a shell splinter, had been carried into the kitchen.\r
+Alpatych, his coachman, Ferapontov's wife and children and the house\r
+porter were all sitting in the cellar, listening. The roar of guns, the\r
+whistling of projectiles, and the piteous moaning of the cook, which\r
+rose above the other sounds, did not cease for a moment. The mistress\r
+rocked and hushed her baby and when anyone came into the cellar asked in\r
+a pathetic whisper what had become of her husband who had remained in\r
+the street. A shopman who entered told her that her husband had gone\r
+with others to the cathedral, whence they were fetching the wonder-\r
+working icon of Smolensk.\r
+\r
+Toward dusk the cannonade began to subside. Alpatych left the cellar and\r
+stopped in the doorway. The evening sky that had been so clear was\r
+clouded with smoke, through which, high up, the sickle of the new moon\r
+shone strangely. Now that the terrible din of the guns had ceased a hush\r
+seemed to reign over the town, broken only by the rustle of footsteps,\r
+the moaning, the distant cries, and the crackle of fires which seemed\r
+widespread everywhere. The cook's moans had now subsided. On two sides\r
+black curling clouds of smoke rose and spread from the fires. Through\r
+the streets soldiers in various uniforms walked or ran confusedly in\r
+different directions like ants from a ruined ant-hill. Several of them\r
+ran into Ferapontov's yard before Alpatych's eyes. Alpatych went out to\r
+the gate. A retreating regiment, thronging and hurrying, blocked the\r
+street.\r
+\r
+Noticing him, an officer said: "The town is being abandoned. Get away,\r
+get away!" and then, turning to the soldiers, shouted:\r
+\r
+"I'll teach you to run into the yards!"\r
+\r
+Alpatych went back to the house, called the coachman, and told him to\r
+set off. Ferapontov's whole household came out too, following Alpatych\r
+and the coachman. The women, who had been silent till then, suddenly\r
+began to wail as they looked at the fires--the smoke and even the flames\r
+of which could be seen in the failing twilight--and as if in reply the\r
+same kind of lamentation was heard from other parts of the street.\r
+Inside the shed Alpatych and the coachman arranged the tangled reins and\r
+traces of their horses with trembling hands.\r
+\r
+As Alpatych was driving out of the gate he saw some ten soldiers in\r
+Ferapontov's open shop, talking loudly and filling their bags and\r
+knapsacks with flour and sunflower seeds. Just then Ferapontov returned\r
+and entered his shop. On seeing the soldiers he was about to shout at\r
+them, but suddenly stopped and, clutching at his hair, burst into sobs\r
+and laughter:\r
+\r
+"Loot everything, lads! Don't let those devils get it!" he cried, taking\r
+some bags of flour himself and throwing them into the street.\r
+\r
+Some of the soldiers were frightened and ran away, others went on\r
+filling their bags. On seeing Alpatych, Ferapontov turned to him:\r
+\r
+"Russia is done for!" he cried. "Alpatych, I'll set the place on fire\r
+myself. We're done for!..." and Ferapontov ran into the yard.\r
+\r
+Soldiers were passing in a constant stream along the street blocking it\r
+completely, so that Alpatych could not pass out and had to wait.\r
+Ferapontov's wife and children were also sitting in a cart waiting till\r
+it was possible to drive out.\r
+\r
+Night had come. There were stars in the sky and the new moon shone out\r
+amid the smoke that screened it. On the sloping descent to the Dnieper\r
+Alpatych's cart and that of the innkeeper's wife, which were slowly\r
+moving amid the rows of soldiers and of other vehicles, had to stop. In\r
+a side street near the crossroads where the vehicles had stopped, a\r
+house and some shops were on fire. This fire was already burning itself\r
+out. The flames now died down and were lost in the black smoke, now\r
+suddenly flared up again brightly, lighting up with strange distinctness\r
+the faces of the people crowding at the crossroads. Black figures\r
+flitted about before the fire, and through the incessant crackling of\r
+the flames talking and shouting could be heard. Seeing that his trap\r
+would not be able to move on for some time, Alpatych got down and turned\r
+into the side street to look at the fire. Soldiers were continually\r
+rushing backwards and forwards near it, and he saw two of them and a man\r
+in a frieze coat dragging burning beams into another yard across the\r
+street, while others carried bundles of hay.\r
+\r
+Alpatych went up to a large crowd standing before a high barn which was\r
+blazing briskly. The walls were all on fire and the back wall had fallen\r
+in, the wooden roof was collapsing, and the rafters were alight. The\r
+crowd was evidently watching for the roof to fall in, and Alpatych\r
+watched for it too.\r
+\r
+"Alpatych!" a familiar voice suddenly hailed the old man.\r
+\r
+"Mercy on us! Your excellency!" answered Alpatych, immediately\r
+recognizing the voice of his young prince.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew in his riding cloak, mounted on a black horse, was looking\r
+at Alpatych from the back of the crowd.\r
+\r
+"Why are you here?" he asked.\r
+\r
+"Your... your excellency," stammered Alpatych and broke into sobs. "Are\r
+we really lost? Master!..."\r
+\r
+"Why are you here?" Prince Andrew repeated.\r
+\r
+At that moment the flames flared up and showed his young master's pale\r
+worn face. Alpatych told how he had been sent there and how difficult it\r
+was to get away.\r
+\r
+"Are we really quite lost, your excellency?" he asked again.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew without replying took out a notebook and raising his knee\r
+began writing in pencil on a page he tore out. He wrote to his sister:\r
+\r
+"Smolensk is being abandoned. Bald Hills will be occupied by the enemy\r
+within a week. Set off immediately for Moscow. Let me know at once when\r
+you will start. Send by special messenger to Usvyazh."\r
+\r
+Having written this and given the paper to Alpatych, he told him how to\r
+arrange for departure of the prince, the princess, his son, and the\r
+boy's tutor, and how and where to let him know immediately. Before he\r
+had had time to finish giving these instructions, a chief of staff\r
+followed by a suite galloped up to him.\r
+\r
+"You are a colonel?" shouted the chief of staff with a German accent, in\r
+a voice familiar to Prince Andrew. "Houses are set on fire in your\r
+presence and you stand by! What does this mean? You will answer for it!"\r
+shouted Berg, who was now assistant to the chief of staff of the\r
+commander of the left flank of the infantry of the first army, a place,\r
+as Berg said, "very agreeable and well en evidence."\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew looked at him and without replying went on speaking to\r
+Alpatych.\r
+\r
+"So tell them that I shall await a reply till the tenth, and if by the\r
+tenth I don't receive news that they have all got away I shall have to\r
+throw up everything and come myself to Bald Hills."\r
+\r
+"Prince," said Berg, recognizing Prince Andrew, "I only spoke because I\r
+have to obey orders, because I always do obey exactly.... You must\r
+please excuse me," he went on apologetically.\r
+\r
+Something cracked in the flames. The fire died down for a moment and\r
+wreaths of black smoke rolled from under the roof. There was another\r
+terrible crash and something huge collapsed.\r
+\r
+"Ou-rou-rou!" yelled the crowd, echoing the crash of the collapsing roof\r
+of the barn, the burning grain in which diffused a cakelike aroma all\r
+around. The flames flared up again, lighting the animated, delighted,\r
+exhausted faces of the spectators.\r
+\r
+The man in the frieze coat raised his arms and shouted:\r
+\r
+"It's fine, lads! Now it's raging... It's fine!"\r
+\r
+"That's the owner himself," cried several voices.\r
+\r
+"Well then," continued Prince Andrew to Alpatych, "report to them as I\r
+have told you"; and not replying a word to Berg who was now mute beside\r
+him, he touched his horse and rode down the side street.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+From Smolensk the troops continued to retreat, followed by the enemy. On\r
+the tenth of August the regiment Prince Andrew commanded was marching\r
+along the highroad past the avenue leading to Bald Hills. Heat and\r
+drought had continued for more than three weeks. Each day fleecy clouds\r
+floated across the sky and occasionally veiled the sun, but toward\r
+evening the sky cleared again and the sun set in reddish-brown mist.\r
+Heavy night dews alone refreshed the earth. The unreaped corn was\r
+scorched and shed its grain. The marshes dried up. The cattle lowed from\r
+hunger, finding no food on the sun-parched meadows. Only at night and in\r
+the forests while the dew lasted was there any freshness. But on the\r
+road, the highroad along which the troops marched, there was no such\r
+freshness even at night or when the road passed through the forest; the\r
+dew was imperceptible on the sandy dust churned up more than six inches\r
+deep. As soon as day dawned the march began. The artillery and baggage\r
+wagons moved noiselessly through the deep dust that rose to the very\r
+hubs of the wheels, and the infantry sank ankle-deep in that soft,\r
+choking, hot dust that never cooled even at night. Some of this dust was\r
+kneaded by the feet and wheels, while the rest rose and hung like a\r
+cloud over the troops, settling in eyes, ears, hair, and nostrils, and\r
+worst of all in the lungs of the men and beasts as they moved along that\r
+road. The higher the sun rose the higher rose that cloud of dust, and\r
+through the screen of its hot fine particles one could look with naked\r
+eye at the sun, which showed like a huge crimson ball in the unclouded\r
+sky. There was no wind, and the men choked in that motionless\r
+atmosphere. They marched with handkerchiefs tied over their noses and\r
+mouths. When they passed through a village they all rushed to the wells\r
+and fought for the water and drank it down to the mud.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew was in command of a regiment, and the management of that\r
+regiment, the welfare of the men and the necessity of receiving and\r
+giving orders, engrossed him. The burning of Smolensk and its\r
+abandonment made an epoch in his life. A novel feeling of anger against\r
+the foe made him forget his own sorrow. He was entirely devoted to the\r
+affairs of his regiment and was considerate and kind to his men and\r
+officers. In the regiment they called him "our prince," were proud of\r
+him and loved him. But he was kind and gentle only to those of his\r
+regiment, to Timokhin and the like--people quite new to him, belonging\r
+to a different world and who could not know and understand his past. As\r
+soon as he came across a former acquaintance or anyone from the staff,\r
+he bristled up immediately and grew spiteful, ironical, and\r
+contemptuous. Everything that reminded him of his past was repugnant to\r
+him, and so in his relations with that former circle he confined himself\r
+to trying to do his duty and not to be unfair.\r
+\r
+In truth everything presented itself in a dark and gloomy light to\r
+Prince Andrew, especially after the abandonment of Smolensk on the sixth\r
+of August (he considered that it could and should have been defended)\r
+and after his sick father had had to flee to Moscow, abandoning to\r
+pillage his dearly beloved Bald Hills which he had built and peopled.\r
+But despite this, thanks to his regiment, Prince Andrew had something to\r
+think about entirely apart from general questions. Two days previously\r
+he had received news that his father, son, and sister had left for\r
+Moscow; and though there was nothing for him to do at Bald Hills, Prince\r
+Andrew with a characteristic desire to foment his own grief decided that\r
+he must ride there.\r
+\r
+He ordered his horse to be saddled and, leaving his regiment on the\r
+march, rode to his father's estate where he had been born and spent his\r
+childhood. Riding past the pond where there used always to be dozens of\r
+women chattering as they rinsed their linen or beat it with wooden\r
+beetles, Prince Andrew noticed that there was not a soul about and that\r
+the little washing wharf, torn from its place and half submerged, was\r
+floating on its side in the middle of the pond. He rode to the keeper's\r
+lodge. No one at the stone entrance gates of the drive and the door\r
+stood open. Grass had already begun to grow on the garden paths, and\r
+horses and calves were straying in the English park. Prince Andrew rode\r
+up to the hothouse; some of the glass panes were broken, and of the\r
+trees in tubs some were overturned and others dried up. He called for\r
+Taras the gardener, but no one replied. Having gone round the corner of\r
+the hothouse to the ornamental garden, he saw that the carved garden\r
+fence was broken and branches of the plum trees had been torn off with\r
+the fruit. An old peasant whom Prince Andrew in his childhood had often\r
+seen at the gate was sitting on a green garden seat, plaiting a bast\r
+shoe.\r
+\r
+He was deaf and did not hear Prince Andrew ride up. He was sitting on\r
+the seat the old prince used to like to sit on, and beside him strips of\r
+bast were hanging on the broken and withered branch of a magnolia.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew rode up to the house. Several limes in the old garden had\r
+been cut down and a piebald mare and her foal were wandering in front of\r
+the house among the rosebushes. The shutters were all closed, except at\r
+one window which was open. A little serf boy, seeing Prince Andrew, ran\r
+into the house. Alpatych, having sent his family away, was alone at Bald\r
+Hills and was sitting indoors reading the Lives of the Saints. On\r
+hearing that Prince Andrew had come, he went out with his spectacles on\r
+his nose, buttoning his coat, and, hastily stepping up, without a word\r
+began weeping and kissing Prince Andrew's knee.\r
+\r
+Then, vexed at his own weakness, he turned away and began to report on\r
+the position of affairs. Everything precious and valuable had been\r
+removed to Bogucharovo. Seventy quarters of grain had also been carted\r
+away. The hay and the spring corn, of which Alpatych said there had been\r
+a remarkable crop that year, had been commandeered by the troops and\r
+mown down while still green. The peasants were ruined; some of them too\r
+had gone to Bogucharovo, only a few remained.\r
+\r
+Without waiting to hear him out, Prince Andrew asked:\r
+\r
+"When did my father and sister leave?" meaning when did they leave for\r
+Moscow.\r
+\r
+Alpatych, understanding the question to refer to their departure for\r
+Bogucharovo, replied that they had left on the seventh and again went\r
+into details concerning the estate management, asking for instructions.\r
+\r
+"Am I to let the troops have the oats, and to take a receipt for them?\r
+We have still six hundred quarters left," he inquired.\r
+\r
+"What am I to say to him?" thought Prince Andrew, looking down on the\r
+old man's bald head shining in the sun and seeing by the expression on\r
+his face that the old man himself understood how untimely such questions\r
+were and only asked them to allay his grief.\r
+\r
+"Yes, let them have it," replied Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+"If you noticed some disorder in the garden," said Alpatych, "it was\r
+impossible to prevent it. Three regiments have been here and spent the\r
+night, dragoons mostly. I took down the name and rank of their\r
+commanding officer, to hand in a complaint about it."\r
+\r
+"Well, and what are you going to do? Will you stay here if the enemy\r
+occupies the place?" asked Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+Alpatych turned his face to Prince Andrew, looked at him, and suddenly\r
+with a solemn gesture raised his arm.\r
+\r
+"He is my refuge! His will be done!" he exclaimed.\r
+\r
+A group of bareheaded peasants was approaching across the meadow toward\r
+the prince.\r
+\r
+"Well, good-by!" said Prince Andrew, bending over to Alpatych. "You must\r
+go away too, take away what you can and tell the serfs to go to the\r
+Ryazan estate or to the one near Moscow."\r
+\r
+Alpatych clung to Prince Andrew's leg and burst into sobs. Gently\r
+disengaging himself, the prince spurred his horse and rode down the\r
+avenue at a gallop.\r
+\r
+The old man was still sitting in the ornamental garden, like a fly\r
+impassive on the face of a loved one who is dead, tapping the last on\r
+which he was making the bast shoe, and two little girls, running out\r
+from the hot house carrying in their skirts plums they had plucked from\r
+the trees there, came upon Prince Andrew. On seeing the young master,\r
+the elder one with frightened look clutched her younger companion by the\r
+hand and hid with her behind a birch tree, not stopping to pick up some\r
+green plums they had dropped.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew turned away with startled haste, unwilling to let them see\r
+that they had been observed. He was sorry for the pretty frightened\r
+little girl, was afraid of looking at her, and yet felt an irresistible\r
+desire to do so. A new sensation of comfort and relief came over him\r
+when, seeing these girls, he realized the existence of other human\r
+interests entirely aloof from his own and just as legitimate as those\r
+that occupied him. Evidently these girls passionately desired one thing-\r
+-to carry away and eat those green plums without being caught--and\r
+Prince Andrew shared their wish for the success of their enterprise. He\r
+could not resist looking at them once more. Believing their danger past,\r
+they sprang from their ambush and, chirruping something in their shrill\r
+little voices and holding up their skirts, their bare little sunburned\r
+feet scampered merrily and quickly across the meadow grass.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew was somewhat refreshed by having ridden off the dusty\r
+highroad along which the troops were moving. But not far from Bald Hills\r
+he again came out on the road and overtook his regiment at its halting\r
+place by the dam of a small pond. It was past one o'clock. The sun, a\r
+red ball through the dust, burned and scorched his back intolerably\r
+through his black coat. The dust always hung motionless above the buzz\r
+of talk that came from the resting troops. There was no wind. As he\r
+crossed the dam Prince Andrew smelled the ooze and freshness of the\r
+pond. He longed to get into that water, however dirty it might be, and\r
+he glanced round at the pool from whence came sounds of shrieks and\r
+laughter. The small, muddy, green pond had risen visibly more than a\r
+foot, flooding the dam, because it was full of the naked white bodies of\r
+soldiers with brick-red hands, necks, and faces, who were splashing\r
+about in it. All this naked white human flesh, laughing and shrieking,\r
+floundered about in that dirty pool like carp stuffed into a watering\r
+can, and the suggestion of merriment in that floundering mass rendered\r
+it specially pathetic.\r
+\r
+One fair-haired young soldier of the third company, whom Prince Andrew\r
+knew and who had a strap round the calf of one leg, crossed himself,\r
+stepped back to get a good run, and plunged into the water; another, a\r
+dark noncommissioned officer who was always shaggy, stood up to his\r
+waist in the water joyfully wriggling his muscular figure and snorted\r
+with satisfaction as he poured the water over his head with hands\r
+blackened to the wrists. There were sounds of men slapping one another,\r
+yelling, and puffing.\r
+\r
+Everywhere on the bank, on the dam, and in the pond, there was healthy,\r
+white, muscular flesh. The officer, Timokhin, with his red little nose,\r
+standing on the dam wiping himself with a towel, felt confused at seeing\r
+the prince, but made up his mind to address him nevertheless.\r
+\r
+"It's very nice, your excellency! Wouldn't you like to?" said he.\r
+\r
+"It's dirty," replied Prince Andrew, making a grimace.\r
+\r
+"We'll clear it out for you in a minute," said Timokhin, and, still\r
+undressed, ran off to clear the men out of the pond.\r
+\r
+"The prince wants to bathe."\r
+\r
+"What prince? Ours?" said many voices, and the men were in such haste to\r
+clear out that the prince could hardly stop them. He decided that he\r
+would rather wash himself with water in the barn.\r
+\r
+"Flesh, bodies, cannon fodder!" he thought, and he looked at his own\r
+naked body and shuddered, not from cold but from a sense of disgust and\r
+horror he did not himself understand, aroused by the sight of that\r
+immense number of bodies splashing about in the dirty pond.\r
+\r
+On the seventh of August Prince Bagration wrote as follows from his\r
+quarters at Mikhaylovna on the Smolensk road:\r
+\r
+Dear Count Alexis Andreevich--(He was writing to Arakcheev but knew that\r
+his letter would be read by the Emperor, and therefore weighed every\r
+word in it to the best of his ability.)\r
+\r
+I expect the Minister (Barclay de Tolly) has already reported the\r
+abandonment of Smolensk to the enemy. It is pitiable and sad, and the\r
+whole army is in despair that this most important place has been\r
+wantonly abandoned. I, for my part, begged him personally most urgently\r
+and finally wrote him, but nothing would induce him to consent. I swear\r
+to you on my honor that Napoleon was in such a fix as never before and\r
+might have lost half his army but could not have taken Smolensk. Our\r
+troops fought, and are fighting, as never before. With fifteen thousand\r
+men I held the enemy at bay for thirty-five hours and beat him; but he\r
+would not hold out even for fourteen hours. It is disgraceful, a stain\r
+on our army, and as for him, he ought, it seems to me, not to live. If\r
+he reports that our losses were great, it is not true; perhaps about\r
+four thousand, not more, and not even that; but even were they ten\r
+thousand, that's war! But the enemy has lost masses...\r
+\r
+What would it have cost him to hold out for another two days? They would\r
+have had to retire of their own accord, for they had no water for men or\r
+horses. He gave me his word he would not retreat, but suddenly sent\r
+instructions that he was retiring that night. We cannot fight in this\r
+way, or we may soon bring the enemy to Moscow...\r
+\r
+There is a rumor that you are thinking of peace. God forbid that you\r
+should make peace after all our sacrifices and such insane retreats! You\r
+would set all Russia against you and every one of us would feel ashamed\r
+to wear the uniform. If it has come to this--we must fight as long as\r
+Russia can and as long as there are men able to stand...\r
+\r
+One man ought to be in command, and not two. Your Minister may perhaps\r
+be good as a Minister, but as a general he is not merely bad but\r
+execrable, yet to him is entrusted the fate of our whole country.... I\r
+am really frantic with vexation; forgive my writing boldly. It is clear\r
+that the man who advocates the conclusion of a peace, and that the\r
+Minister should command the army, does not love our sovereign and\r
+desires the ruin of us all. So I write you frankly: call out the\r
+militia. For the Minister is leading these visitors after him to Moscow\r
+in a most masterly way. The whole army feels great suspicion of the\r
+Imperial aide-de-camp Wolzogen. He is said to be more Napoleon's man\r
+than ours, and he is always advising the Minister. I am not merely civil\r
+to him but obey him like a corporal, though I am his senior. This is\r
+painful, but, loving my benefactor and sovereign, I submit. Only I am\r
+sorry for the Emperor that he entrusts our fine army to such as he.\r
+Consider that on our retreat we have lost by fatigue and left in the\r
+hospital more than fifteen thousand men, and had we attacked this would\r
+not have happened. Tell me, for God's sake, what will Russia, our mother\r
+Russia, say to our being so frightened, and why are we abandoning our\r
+good and gallant Fatherland to such rabble and implanting feelings of\r
+hatred and shame in all our subjects? What are we scared at and of whom\r
+are we afraid? I am not to blame that the Minister is vacillating, a\r
+coward, dense, dilatory, and has all bad qualities. The whole army\r
+bewails it and calls down curses upon him...\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+Among the innumerable categories applicable to the phenomena of human\r
+life one may discriminate between those in which substance prevails and\r
+those in which form prevails. To the latter--as distinguished from\r
+village, country, provincial, or even Moscow life--we may allot\r
+Petersburg life, and especially the life of its salons. That life of the\r
+salons is unchanging. Since the year 1805 we had made peace and had\r
+again quarreled with Bonaparte and had made constitutions and unmade\r
+them again, but the salons of Anna Pavlovna and Helene remained just as\r
+they had been--the one seven and the other five years before. At Anna\r
+Pavlovna's they talked with perplexity of Bonaparte's successes just as\r
+before and saw in them and in the subservience shown to him by the\r
+European sovereigns a malicious conspiracy, the sole object of which was\r
+to cause unpleasantness and anxiety to the court circle of which Anna\r
+Pavlovna was the representative. And in Helene's salon, which Rumyantsev\r
+himself honored with his visits, regarding Helene as a remarkably\r
+intelligent woman, they talked with the same ecstasy in 1812 as in 1808\r
+of the "great nation" and the "great man," and regretted our rupture\r
+with France, a rupture which, according to them, ought to be promptly\r
+terminated by peace.\r
+\r
+Of late, since the Emperor's return from the army, there had been some\r
+excitement in these conflicting salon circles and some demonstrations of\r
+hostility to one another, but each camp retained its own tendency. In\r
+Anna Pavlovna's circle only those Frenchmen were admitted who were deep-\r
+rooted legitimists, and patriotic views were expressed to the effect\r
+that one ought not to go to the French theater and that to maintain the\r
+French troupe was costing the government as much as a whole army corps.\r
+The progress of the war was eagerly followed, and only the reports most\r
+flattering to our army were circulated. In the French circle of Helene\r
+and Rumyantsev the reports of the cruelty of the enemy and of the war\r
+were contradicted and all Napoleon's attempts at conciliation were\r
+discussed. In that circle they discountenanced those who advised hurried\r
+preparations for a removal to Kazan of the court and the girls'\r
+educational establishments under the patronage of the Dowager Empress.\r
+In Helene's circle the war in general was regarded as a series of formal\r
+demonstrations which would very soon end in peace, and the view\r
+prevailed expressed by Bilibin--who now in Petersburg was quite at home\r
+in Helene's house, which every clever man was obliged to visit--that not\r
+by gunpowder but by those who invented it would matters be settled. In\r
+that circle the Moscow enthusiasm--news of which had reached Petersburg\r
+simultaneously with the Emperor's return--was ridiculed sarcastically\r
+and very cleverly, though with much caution.\r
+\r
+Anna Pavlovna's circle on the contrary was enraptured by this enthusiasm\r
+and spoke of it as Plutarch speaks of the deeds of the ancients. Prince\r
+Vasili, who still occupied his former important posts, formed a\r
+connecting link between these two circles. He visited his "good friend\r
+Anna Pavlovna" as well as his daughter's "diplomatic salon," and often\r
+in his constant comings and goings between the two camps became confused\r
+and said at Helene's what he should have said at Anna Pavlovna's and\r
+vice versa.\r
+\r
+Soon after the Emperor's return Prince Vasili in a conversation about\r
+the war at Anna Pavlovna's severely condemned Barclay de Tolly, but was\r
+undecided as to who ought to be appointed commander-in-chief. One of the\r
+visitors, usually spoken of as "a man of great merit," having described\r
+how he had that day seen Kutuzov, the newly chosen chief of the\r
+Petersburg militia, presiding over the enrollment of recruits at the\r
+Treasury, cautiously ventured to suggest that Kutuzov would be the man\r
+to satisfy all requirements.\r
+\r
+Anna Pavlovna remarked with a melancholy smile that Kutuzov had done\r
+nothing but cause the Emperor annoyance.\r
+\r
+"I have talked and talked at the Assembly of the Nobility," Prince\r
+Vasili interrupted, "but they did not listen to me. I told them his\r
+election as chief of the militia would not please the Emperor. They did\r
+not listen to me.\r
+\r
+"It's all this mania for opposition," he went on. "And who for? It is\r
+all because we want to ape the foolish enthusiasm of those Muscovites,"\r
+Prince Vasili continued, forgetting for a moment that though at Helene's\r
+one had to ridicule the Moscow enthusiasm, at Anna Pavlovna's one had to\r
+be ecstatic about it. But he retrieved his mistake at once. "Now, is it\r
+suitable that Count Kutuzov, the oldest general in Russia, should\r
+preside at that tribunal? He will get nothing for his pains! How could\r
+they make a man commander-in-chief who cannot mount a horse, who drops\r
+asleep at a council, and has the very worst morals! A good reputation he\r
+made for himself at Bucharest! I don't speak of his capacity as a\r
+general, but at a time like this how they appoint a decrepit, blind old\r
+man, positively blind? A fine idea to have a blind general! He can't see\r
+anything. To play blindman's bluff? He can't see at all!"\r
+\r
+No one replied to his remarks.\r
+\r
+This was quite correct on the twenty-fourth of July. But on the twenty-\r
+ninth of July Kutuzov received the title of Prince. This might indicate\r
+a wish to get rid of him, and therefore Prince Vasili's opinion\r
+continued to be correct though he was not now in any hurry to express\r
+it. But on the eighth of August a committee, consisting of Field Marshal\r
+Saltykov, Arakcheev, Vyazmitinov, Lopukhin, and Kochubey met to consider\r
+the progress of the war. This committee came to the conclusion that our\r
+failures were due to a want of unity in the command and though the\r
+members of the committee were aware of the Emperor's dislike of Kutuzov,\r
+after a short deliberation they agreed to advise his appointment as\r
+commander in chief. That same day Kutuzov was appointed commander-in-\r
+chief with full powers over the armies and over the whole region\r
+occupied by them.\r
+\r
+On the ninth of August Prince Vasili at Anna Pavlovna's again met the\r
+"man of great merit." The latter was very attentive to Anna Pavlovna\r
+because he wanted to be appointed director of one of the educational\r
+establishments for young ladies. Prince Vasili entered the room with the\r
+air of a happy conqueror who has attained the object of his desires.\r
+\r
+"Well, have you heard the great news? Prince Kutuzov is field marshal!\r
+All dissensions are at an end! I am so glad, so delighted! At last we\r
+have a man!" said he, glancing sternly and significantly round at\r
+everyone in the drawing room.\r
+\r
+The "man of great merit," despite his desire to obtain the post of\r
+director, could not refrain from reminding Prince Vasili of his former\r
+opinion. Though this was impolite to Prince Vasili in Anna Pavlovna's\r
+drawing room, and also to Anna Pavlovna herself who had received the\r
+news with delight, he could not resist the temptation.\r
+\r
+"But, Prince, they say he is blind!" said he, reminding Prince Vasili of\r
+his own words.\r
+\r
+"Eh? Nonsense! He sees well enough," said Prince Vasili rapidly, in a\r
+deep voice and with a slight cough--the voice and cough with which he\r
+was wont to dispose of all difficulties.\r
+\r
+"He sees well enough," he added. "And what I am so pleased about," he\r
+went on, "is that our sovereign has given him full powers over all the\r
+armies and the whole region--powers no commander-in-chief ever had\r
+before. He is a second autocrat," he concluded with a victorious smile.\r
+\r
+"God grant it! God grant it!" said Anna Pavlovna.\r
+\r
+The "man of great merit," who was still a novice in court circles,\r
+wishing to flatter Anna Pavlovna by defending her former position on\r
+this question, observed:\r
+\r
+"It is said that the Emperor was reluctant to give Kutuzov those powers.\r
+They say he blushed like a girl to whom Joconde is read, when he said to\r
+Kutuzov: 'Your Emperor and the Fatherland award you this honor.'"\r
+\r
+"Perhaps the heart took no part in that speech," said Anna Pavlovna.\r
+\r
+"Oh, no, no!" warmly rejoined Prince Vasili, who would not now yield\r
+Kutuzov to anyone; in his opinion Kutuzov was not only admirable\r
+himself, but was adored by everybody. "No, that's impossible," said he,\r
+"for our sovereign appreciated him so highly before."\r
+\r
+"God grant only that Prince Kutuzov assumes real power and does not\r
+allow anyone to put a spoke in his wheel," observed Anna Pavlovna.\r
+\r
+Understanding at once to whom she alluded, Prince Vasili said in a\r
+whisper:\r
+\r
+"I know for a fact that Kutuzov made it an absolute condition that the\r
+Tsarevich should not be with the army. Do you know what he said to the\r
+Emperor?"\r
+\r
+And Prince Vasili repeated the words supposed to have been spoken by\r
+Kutuzov to the Emperor. "I can neither punish him if he does wrong nor\r
+reward him if he does right."\r
+\r
+"Oh, a very wise man is Prince Kutuzov! I have known him a long time!"\r
+\r
+"They even say," remarked the "man of great merit" who did not yet\r
+possess courtly tact, "that his excellency made it an express condition\r
+that the sovereign himself should not be with the army."\r
+\r
+As soon as he said this both Prince Vasili and Anna Pavlovna turned away\r
+from him and glanced sadly at one another with a sigh at his naivete.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+While this was taking place in Petersburg the French had already passed\r
+Smolensk and were drawing nearer and nearer to Moscow. Napoleon's\r
+historian Thiers, like other of his historians, trying to justify his\r
+hero says that he was drawn to the walls of Moscow against his will. He\r
+is as right as other historians who look for the explanation of historic\r
+events in the will of one man; he is as right as the Russian historians\r
+who maintain that Napoleon was drawn to Moscow by the skill of the\r
+Russian commanders. Here besides the law of retrospection, which regards\r
+all the past as a preparation for events that subsequently occur, the\r
+law of reciprocity comes in, confusing the whole matter. A good\r
+chessplayer having lost a game is sincerely convinced that his loss\r
+resulted from a mistake he made and looks for that mistake in the\r
+opening, but forgets that at each stage of the game there were similar\r
+mistakes and that none of his moves were perfect. He only notices the\r
+mistake to which he pays attention, because his opponent took advantage\r
+of it. How much more complex than this is the game of war, which occurs\r
+under certain limits of time, and where it is not one will that\r
+manipulates lifeless objects, but everything results from innumerable\r
+conflicts of various wills!\r
+\r
+After Smolensk Napoleon sought a battle beyond Dorogobuzh at Vyazma, and\r
+then at Tsarevo-Zaymishche, but it happened that owing to a conjunction\r
+of innumerable circumstances the Russians could not give battle till\r
+they reached Borodino, seventy miles from Moscow. From Vyazma Napoleon\r
+ordered a direct advance on Moscow.\r
+\r
+Moscou, la capitale asiatique de ce grand empire, la ville sacree des\r
+peuples d'Alexandre, Moscou avec ses innombrables eglises en forme de\r
+pagodes chinoises, * this Moscow gave Napoleon's imagination no rest. On\r
+the march from Vyazma to Tsarevo-Zaymishche he rode his light bay\r
+bobtailed ambler accompanied by his Guards, his bodyguard, his pages,\r
+and aides-de-camp. Berthier, his chief of staff, dropped behind to\r
+question a Russian prisoner captured by the cavalry. Followed by\r
+Lelorgne d'Ideville, an interpreter, he overtook Napoleon at a gallop\r
+and reined in his horse with an amused expression.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Moscow, the Asiatic capital of this great empire, the sacred city of\r
+Alexander's people, Moscow with its innumerable churches shaped like\r
+Chinese pagodas."\r
+\r
+"Well?" asked Napoleon.\r
+\r
+"One of Platov's Cossacks says that Platov's corps is joining up with\r
+the main army and that Kutuzov has been appointed commander-in-chief. He\r
+is a very shrewd and garrulous fellow."\r
+\r
+Napoleon smiled and told them to give the Cossack a horse and bring the\r
+man to him. He wished to talk to him himself. Several adjutants galloped\r
+off, and an hour later, Lavrushka, the serf Denisov had handed over to\r
+Rostov, rode up to Napoleon in an orderly's jacket and on a French\r
+cavalry saddle, with a merry, and tipsy face. Napoleon told him to ride\r
+by his side and began questioning him.\r
+\r
+"You are a Cossack?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, a Cossack, your Honor."\r
+\r
+"The Cossack, not knowing in what company he was, for Napoleon's plain\r
+appearance had nothing about it that would reveal to an Oriental mind\r
+the presence of a monarch, talked with extreme familiarity of the\r
+incidents of the war," says Thiers, narrating this episode. In reality\r
+Lavrushka, having got drunk the day before and left his master\r
+dinnerless, had been whipped and sent to the village in quest of\r
+chickens, where he engaged in looting till the French took him prisoner.\r
+Lavrushka was one of those coarse, bare-faced lackeys who have seen all\r
+sorts of things, consider it necessary to do everything in a mean and\r
+cunning way, are ready to render any sort of service to their master,\r
+and are keen at guessing their master's baser impulses, especially those\r
+prompted by vanity and pettiness.\r
+\r
+Finding himself in the company of Napoleon, whose identity he had easily\r
+and surely recognized, Lavrushka was not in the least abashed but merely\r
+did his utmost to gain his new master's favor.\r
+\r
+He knew very well that this was Napoleon, but Napoleon's presence could\r
+no more intimidate him than Rostov's, or a sergeant major's with the\r
+rods, would have done, for he had nothing that either the sergeant major\r
+or Napoleon could deprive him of.\r
+\r
+So he rattled on, telling all the gossip he had heard among the\r
+orderlies. Much of it true. But when Napoleon asked him whether the\r
+Russians thought they would beat Bonaparte or not, Lavrushka screwed up\r
+his eyes and considered.\r
+\r
+In this question he saw subtle cunning, as men of his type see cunning\r
+in everything, so he frowned and did not answer immediately.\r
+\r
+"It's like this," he said thoughtfully, "if there's a battle soon, yours\r
+will win. That's right. But if three days pass, then after that, well,\r
+then that same battle will not soon be over."\r
+\r
+Lelorgne d'Ideville smilingly interpreted this speech to Napoleon thus:\r
+"If a battle takes place within the next three days the French will win,\r
+but if later, God knows what will happen." Napoleon did not smile,\r
+though he was evidently in high good humor, and he ordered these words\r
+to be repeated.\r
+\r
+Lavrushka noticed this and to entertain him further, pretending not to\r
+know who Napoleon was, added:\r
+\r
+"We know that you have Bonaparte and that he has beaten everybody in the\r
+world, but we are a different matter..."--without knowing why or how\r
+this bit of boastful patriotism slipped out at the end.\r
+\r
+The interpreter translated these words without the last phrase, and\r
+Bonaparte smiled. "The young Cossack made his mighty interlocutor\r
+smile," says Thiers. After riding a few paces in silence, Napoleon\r
+turned to Berthier and said he wished to see how the news that he was\r
+talking to the Emperor himself, to that very Emperor who had written his\r
+immortally victorious name on the Pyramids, would affect this enfant du\r
+Don. *\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Child of the Don."\r
+\r
+The fact was accordingly conveyed to Lavrushka.\r
+\r
+Lavrushka, understanding that this was done to perplex him and that\r
+Napoleon expected him to be frightened, to gratify his new masters\r
+promptly pretended to be astonished and awe-struck, opened his eyes\r
+wide, and assumed the expression he usually put on when taken to be\r
+whipped. "As soon as Napoleon's interpreter had spoken," says Thiers,\r
+"the Cossack, seized by amazement, did not utter another word, but rode\r
+on, his eyes fixed on the conqueror whose fame had reached him across\r
+the steppes of the East. All his loquacity was suddenly arrested and\r
+replaced by a naive and silent feeling of admiration. Napoleon, after\r
+making the Cossack a present, had him set free like a bird restored to\r
+its native fields."\r
+\r
+Napoleon rode on, dreaming of the Moscow that so appealed to his\r
+imagination, and "the bird restored to its native fields" galloped to\r
+our outposts, inventing on the way all that had not taken place but that\r
+he meant to relate to his comrades. What had really taken place he did\r
+not wish to relate because it seemed to him not worth telling. He found\r
+the Cossacks, inquired for the regiment operating with Platov's\r
+detachment and by evening found his master, Nicholas Rostov, quartered\r
+at Yankovo. Rostov was just mounting to go for a ride round the\r
+neighboring villages with Ilyin; he let Lavrushka have another horse and\r
+took him along with him.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+Princess Mary was not in Moscow and out of danger as Prince Andrew\r
+supposed.\r
+\r
+After the return of Alpatych from Smolensk the old prince suddenly\r
+seemed to awake as from a dream. He ordered the militiamen to be called\r
+up from the villages and armed, and wrote a letter to the commander-in-\r
+chief informing him that he had resolved to remain at Bald Hills to the\r
+last extremity and to defend it, leaving to the commander-in-chief's\r
+discretion to take measures or not for the defense of Bald Hills, where\r
+one of Russia's oldest generals would be captured or killed, and he\r
+announced to his household that he would remain at Bald Hills.\r
+\r
+But while himself remaining, he gave instructions for the departure of\r
+the princess and Dessalles with the little prince to Bogucharovo and\r
+thence to Moscow. Princess Mary, alarmed by her father's feverish and\r
+sleepless activity after his previous apathy, could not bring herself to\r
+leave him alone and for the first time in her life ventured to disobey\r
+him. She refused to go away and her father's fury broke over her in a\r
+terrible storm. He repeated every injustice he had ever inflicted on\r
+her. Trying to convict her, he told her she had worn him out, had caused\r
+his quarrel with his son, had harbored nasty suspicions of him, making\r
+it the object of her life to poison his existence, and he drove her from\r
+his study telling her that if she did not go away it was all the same to\r
+him. He declared that he did not wish to remember her existence and\r
+warned her not to dare to let him see her. The fact that he did not, as\r
+she had feared, order her to be carried away by force but only told her\r
+not to let him see her cheered Princess Mary. She knew it was a proof\r
+that in the depth of his soul he was glad she was remaining at home and\r
+had not gone away.\r
+\r
+The morning after little Nicholas had left, the old prince donned his\r
+full uniform and prepared to visit the commander-in-chief. His caleche\r
+was already at the door. Princess Mary saw him walk out of the house in\r
+his uniform wearing all his orders and go down the garden to review his\r
+armed peasants and domestic serfs. She sat by the window listening to\r
+his voice which reached her from the garden. Suddenly several men came\r
+running up the avenue with frightened faces.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary ran out to the porch, down the flower-bordered path, and\r
+into the avenue. A large crowd of militiamen and domestics were moving\r
+toward her, and in their midst several men were supporting by the\r
+armpits and dragging along a little old man in a uniform and\r
+decorations. She ran up to him and, in the play of the sunlight that\r
+fell in small round spots through the shade of the lime-tree avenue,\r
+could not be sure what change there was in his face. All she could see\r
+was that his former stern and determined expression had altered to one\r
+of timidity and submission. On seeing his daughter he moved his helpless\r
+lips and made a hoarse sound. It was impossible to make out what he\r
+wanted. He was lifted up, carried to his study, and laid on the very\r
+couch he had so feared of late.\r
+\r
+The doctor, who was fetched that same night, bled him and said that the\r
+prince had had a seizure paralyzing his right side.\r
+\r
+It was becoming more and more dangerous to remain at Bald Hills, and\r
+next day they moved the prince to Bogucharovo, the doctor accompanying\r
+him.\r
+\r
+By the time they reached Bogucharovo, Dessalles and the little prince\r
+had already left for Moscow.\r
+\r
+For three weeks the old prince lay stricken by paralysis in the new\r
+house Prince Andrew had built at Bogucharovo, ever in the same state,\r
+getting neither better nor worse. He was unconscious and lay like a\r
+distorted corpse. He muttered unceasingly, his eyebrows and lips\r
+twitching, and it was impossible to tell whether he understood what was\r
+going on around him or not. One thing was certain--that he was suffering\r
+and wished to say something. But what it was, no one could tell: it\r
+might be some caprice of a sick and half-crazy man, or it might relate\r
+to public affairs, or possibly to family concerns.\r
+\r
+The doctor said this restlessness did not mean anything and was due to\r
+physical causes; but Princess Mary thought he wished to tell her\r
+something, and the fact that her presence always increased his\r
+restlessness confirmed her opinion.\r
+\r
+He was evidently suffering both physically and mentally. There was no\r
+hope of recovery. It was impossible for him to travel, it would not do\r
+to let him die on the road. "Would it not be better if the end did come,\r
+the very end?" Princess Mary sometimes thought. Night and day, hardly\r
+sleeping at all, she watched him and, terrible to say, often watched him\r
+not with hope of finding signs of improvement but wishing to find\r
+symptoms of the approach of the end.\r
+\r
+Strange as it was to her to acknowledge this feeling in herself, yet\r
+there it was. And what seemed still more terrible to her was that since\r
+her father's illness began (perhaps even sooner, when she stayed with\r
+him expecting something to happen), all the personal desires and hopes\r
+that had been forgotten or sleeping within her had awakened. Thoughts\r
+that had not entered her mind for years--thoughts of a life free from\r
+the fear of her father, and even the possibility of love and of family\r
+happiness--floated continually in her imagination like temptations of\r
+the devil. Thrust them aside as she would, questions continually\r
+recurred to her as to how she would order her life now, after that.\r
+These were temptations of the devil and Princess Mary knew it. She knew\r
+that the sole weapon against him was prayer, and she tried to pray. She\r
+assumed an attitude of prayer, looked at the icons, repeated the words\r
+of a prayer, but she could not pray. She felt that a different world had\r
+now taken possession of her--the life of a world of strenuous and free\r
+activity, quite opposed to the spiritual world in which till now she had\r
+been confined and in which her greatest comfort had been prayer. She\r
+could not pray, could not weep, and worldly cares took possession of\r
+her.\r
+\r
+It was becoming dangerous to remain in Bogucharovo. News of the approach\r
+of the French came from all sides, and in one village, ten miles from\r
+Bogucharovo, a homestead had been looted by French marauders.\r
+\r
+The doctor insisted on the necessity of moving the prince; the\r
+provincial Marshal of the Nobility sent an official to Princess Mary to\r
+persuade her to get away as quickly as possible, and the head of the\r
+rural police having come to Bogucharovo urged the same thing, saying\r
+that the French were only some twenty-five miles away, that French\r
+proclamations were circulating in the villages, and that if the princess\r
+did not take her father away before the fifteenth, he could not answer\r
+for the consequences.\r
+\r
+The princess decided to leave on the fifteenth. The cares of preparation\r
+and giving orders, for which everyone came to her, occupied her all day.\r
+She spent the night of the fourteenth as usual, without undressing, in\r
+the room next to the one where the prince lay. Several times, waking up,\r
+she heard his groans and muttering, the creak of his bed, and the steps\r
+of Tikhon and the doctor when they turned him over. Several times she\r
+listened at the door, and it seemed to her that his mutterings were\r
+louder than usual and that they turned him over oftener. She could not\r
+sleep and several times went to the door and listened, wishing to enter\r
+but not deciding to do so. Though he did not speak, Princess Mary saw\r
+and knew how unpleasant every sign of anxiety on his account was to him.\r
+She had noticed with what dissatisfaction he turned from the look she\r
+sometimes involuntarily fixed on him. She knew that her going in during\r
+the night at an unusual hour would irritate him.\r
+\r
+But never had she felt so grieved for him or so much afraid of losing\r
+him. She recalled all her life with him and in every word and act of his\r
+found an expression of his love of her. Occasionally amid these memories\r
+temptations of the devil would surge into her imagination: thoughts of\r
+how things would be after his death, and how her new, liberated life\r
+would be ordered. But she drove these thoughts away with disgust. Toward\r
+morning he became quiet and she fell asleep.\r
+\r
+She woke late. That sincerity which often comes with waking showed her\r
+clearly what chiefly concerned her about her father's illness. On waking\r
+she listened to what was going on behind the door and, hearing him\r
+groan, said to herself with a sigh that things were still the same.\r
+\r
+"But what could have happened? What did I want? I want his death!" she\r
+cried with a feeling of loathing for herself.\r
+\r
+She washed, dressed, said her prayers, and went out to the porch. In\r
+front of it stood carriages without horses and things were being packed\r
+into the vehicles.\r
+\r
+It was a warm, gray morning. Princess Mary stopped at the porch, still\r
+horrified by her spiritual baseness and trying to arrange her thoughts\r
+before going to her father. The doctor came downstairs and went out to\r
+her.\r
+\r
+"He is a little better today," said he. "I was looking for you. One can\r
+make out something of what he is saying. His head is clearer. Come in,\r
+he is asking for you..."\r
+\r
+Princess Mary's heart beat so violently at this news that she grew pale\r
+and leaned against the wall to keep from falling. To see him, talk to\r
+him, feel his eyes on her now that her whole soul was overflowing with\r
+those dreadful, wicked temptations, was a torment of joy and terror.\r
+\r
+"Come," said the doctor.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary entered her father's room and went up to his bed. He was\r
+lying on his back propped up high, and his small bony hands with their\r
+knotted purple veins were lying on the quilt; his left eye gazed\r
+straight before him, his right eye was awry, and his brows and lips\r
+motionless. He seemed altogether so thin, small, and pathetic. His face\r
+seemed to have shriveled or melted; his features had grown smaller.\r
+Princess Mary went up and kissed his hand. His left hand pressed hers so\r
+that she understood that he had long been waiting for her to come. He\r
+twitched her hand, and his brows and lips quivered angrily.\r
+\r
+She looked at him in dismay trying to guess what he wanted of her. When\r
+she changed her position so that his left eye could see her face he\r
+calmed down, not taking his eyes off her for some seconds. Then his lips\r
+and tongue moved, sounds came, and he began to speak, gazing timidly and\r
+imploringly at her, evidently afraid that she might not understand.\r
+\r
+Straining all her faculties Princess Mary looked at him. The comic\r
+efforts with which he moved his tongue made her drop her eyes and with\r
+difficulty repress the sobs that rose to her throat. He said something,\r
+repeating the same words several times. She could not understand them,\r
+but tried to guess what he was saying and inquiringly repeated the words\r
+he uttered.\r
+\r
+"Mmm...ar...ate...ate..." he repeated several times.\r
+\r
+It was quite impossible to understand these sounds. The doctor thought\r
+he had guessed them, and inquiringly repeated: "Mary, are you afraid?"\r
+The prince shook his head, again repeated the same sounds.\r
+\r
+"My mind, my mind aches?" questioned Princess Mary.\r
+\r
+He made a mumbling sound in confirmation of this, took her hand, and\r
+began pressing it to different parts of his breast as if trying to find\r
+the right place for it.\r
+\r
+"Always thoughts... about you... thoughts..." he then uttered much more\r
+clearly than he had done before, now that he was sure of being\r
+understood.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary pressed her head against his hand, trying to hide her sobs\r
+and tears.\r
+\r
+He moved his hand over her hair.\r
+\r
+"I have been calling you all night..." he brought out.\r
+\r
+"If only I had known..." she said through her tears. "I was afraid to\r
+come in."\r
+\r
+He pressed her hand.\r
+\r
+"Weren't you asleep?"\r
+\r
+"No, I did not sleep," said Princess Mary, shaking her head.\r
+\r
+Unconsciously imitating her father, she now tried to express herself as\r
+he did, as much as possible by signs, and her tongue too seemed to move\r
+with difficulty.\r
+\r
+"Dear one... Dearest..." Princess Mary could not quite make out what he\r
+had said, but from his look it was clear that he had uttered a tender\r
+caressing word such as he had never used to her before. "Why didn't you\r
+come in?"\r
+\r
+"And I was wishing for his death!" thought Princess Mary.\r
+\r
+He was silent awhile.\r
+\r
+"Thank you... daughter dear!... for all, for all... forgive!... thank\r
+you!... forgive!... thank you!..." and tears began to flow from his\r
+eyes. "Call Andrew!" he said suddenly, and a childish, timid expression\r
+of doubt showed itself on his face as he spoke.\r
+\r
+He himself seemed aware that his demand was meaningless. So at least it\r
+seemed to Princess Mary.\r
+\r
+"I have a letter from him," she replied.\r
+\r
+He glanced at her with timid surprise.\r
+\r
+"Where is he?"\r
+\r
+"He's with the army, Father, at Smolensk."\r
+\r
+He closed his eyes and remained silent a long time. Then as if in answer\r
+to his doubts and to confirm the fact that now he understood and\r
+remembered everything, he nodded his head and reopened his eyes.\r
+\r
+"Yes," he said, softly and distinctly. "Russia has perished. They've\r
+destroyed her."\r
+\r
+And he began to sob, and again tears flowed from his eyes. Princess Mary\r
+could no longer restrain herself and wept while she gazed at his face.\r
+\r
+Again he closed his eyes. His sobs ceased, he pointed to his eyes, and\r
+Tikhon, understanding him, wiped away the tears.\r
+\r
+Then he again opened his eyes and said something none of them could\r
+understand for a long time, till at last Tikhon understood and repeated\r
+it. Princess Mary had sought the meaning of his words in the mood in\r
+which he had just been speaking. She thought he was speaking of Russia,\r
+or Prince Andrew, of herself, of his grandson, or of his own death, and\r
+so she could not guess his words.\r
+\r
+"Put on your white dress. I like it," was what he said.\r
+\r
+Having understood this Princess Mary sobbed still louder, and the doctor\r
+taking her arm led her out to the veranda, soothing her and trying to\r
+persuade her to prepare for her journey. When she had left the room the\r
+prince again began speaking about his son, about the war, and about the\r
+Emperor, angrily twitching his brows and raising his hoarse voice, and\r
+then he had a second and final stroke.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary stayed on the veranda. The day had cleared, it was hot and\r
+sunny. She could understand nothing, think of nothing and feel nothing,\r
+except passionate love for her father, love such as she thought she had\r
+never felt till that moment. She ran out sobbing into the garden and as\r
+far as the pond, along the avenues of young lime trees Prince Andrew had\r
+planted.\r
+\r
+"Yes... I... I... I wished for his death! Yes, I wanted it to end\r
+quicker.... I wished to be at peace.... And what will become of me? What\r
+use will peace be when he is no longer here?" Princess Mary murmured,\r
+pacing the garden with hurried steps and pressing her hands to her bosom\r
+which heaved with convulsive sobs.\r
+\r
+When she had completed the tour of the garden, which brought her again\r
+to the house, she saw Mademoiselle Bourienne--who had remained at\r
+Bogucharovo and did not wish to leave it--coming toward her with a\r
+stranger. This was the Marshal of the Nobility of the district, who had\r
+come personally to point out to the princess the necessity for her\r
+prompt departure. Princess Mary listened without understanding him; she\r
+led him to the house, offered him lunch, and sat down with him. Then,\r
+excusing herself, she went to the door of the old prince's room. The\r
+doctor came out with an agitated face and said she could not enter.\r
+\r
+"Go away, Princess! Go away... go away!"\r
+\r
+She returned to the garden and sat down on the grass at the foot of the\r
+slope by the pond, where no one could see her. She did not know how long\r
+she had been there when she was aroused by the sound of a woman's\r
+footsteps running along the path. She rose and saw Dunyasha her maid,\r
+who was evidently looking for her, and who stopped suddenly as if in\r
+alarm on seeing her mistress.\r
+\r
+"Please come, Princess... The Prince," said Dunyasha in a breaking\r
+voice.\r
+\r
+"Immediately, I'm coming, I'm coming!" replied the princess hurriedly,\r
+not giving Dunyasha time to finish what she was saying, and trying to\r
+avoid seeing the girl she ran toward the house.\r
+\r
+"Princess, it's God's will! You must be prepared for everything," said\r
+the Marshal, meeting her at the house door.\r
+\r
+"Let me alone; it's not true!" she cried angrily to him.\r
+\r
+The doctor tried to stop her. She pushed him aside and ran to her\r
+father's door. "Why are these people with frightened faces stopping me?\r
+I don't want any of them! And what are they doing here?" she thought.\r
+She opened the door and the bright daylight in that previously darkened\r
+room startled her. In the room were her nurse and other women. They all\r
+drew back from the bed, making way for her. He was still lying on the\r
+bed as before, but the stern expression of his quiet face made Princess\r
+Mary stop short on the threshold.\r
+\r
+"No, he's not dead--it's impossible!" she told herself and approached\r
+him, and repressing the terror that seized her, she pressed her lips to\r
+his cheek. But she stepped back immediately. All the force of the\r
+tenderness she had been feeling for him vanished instantly and was\r
+replaced by a feeling of horror at what lay there before her. "No, he is\r
+no more! He is not, but here where he was is something unfamiliar and\r
+hostile, some dreadful, terrifying, and repellent mystery!" And hiding\r
+her face in her hands, Princess Mary sank into the arms of the doctor,\r
+who held her up.\r
+\r
+In the presence of Tikhon and the doctor the women washed what had been\r
+the prince, tied his head up with a handkerchief that the mouth should\r
+not stiffen while open, and with another handkerchief tied together the\r
+legs that were already spreading apart. Then they dressed him in uniform\r
+with his decorations and placed his shriveled little body on a table.\r
+Heaven only knows who arranged all this and when, but it all got done as\r
+if of its own accord. Toward night candles were burning round his\r
+coffin, a pall was spread over it, the floor was strewn with sprays of\r
+juniper, a printed band was tucked in under his shriveled head, and in a\r
+corner of the room sat a chanter reading the psalms.\r
+\r
+Just as horses shy and snort and gather about a dead horse, so the\r
+inmates of the house and strangers crowded into the drawing room round\r
+the coffin--the Marshal, the village Elder, peasant women--and all with\r
+fixed and frightened eyes, crossing themselves, bowed and kissed the old\r
+prince's cold and stiffened hand.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+Until Prince Andrew settled in Bogucharovo its owners had always been\r
+absentees, and its peasants were of quite a different character from\r
+those of Bald Hills. They differed from them in speech, dress, and\r
+disposition. They were called steppe peasants. The old prince used to\r
+approve of them for their endurance at work when they came to Bald Hills\r
+to help with the harvest or to dig ponds, and ditches, but he disliked\r
+them for their boorishness.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew's last stay at Bogucharovo, when he introduced hospitals\r
+and schools and reduced the quitrent the peasants had to pay, had not\r
+softened their disposition but had on the contrary strengthened in them\r
+the traits of character the old prince called boorishness. Various\r
+obscure rumors were always current among them: at one time a rumor that\r
+they would all be enrolled as Cossacks; at another of a new religion to\r
+which they were all to be converted; then of some proclamation of the\r
+Tsar's and of an oath to the Tsar Paul in 1797 (in connection with which\r
+it was rumored that freedom had been granted them but the landowners had\r
+stopped it), then of Peter Fedorovich's return to the throne in seven\r
+years' time, when everything would be made free and so "simple" that\r
+there would be no restrictions. Rumors of the war with Bonaparte and his\r
+invasion were connected in their minds with the same sort of vague\r
+notions of Antichrist, the end of the world, and "pure freedom."\r
+\r
+In the vicinity of Bogucharovo were large villages belonging to the\r
+crown or to owners whose serfs paid quitrent and could work where they\r
+pleased. There were very few resident landlords in the neighborhood and\r
+also very few domestic or literate serfs, and in the lives of the\r
+peasantry of those parts the mysterious undercurrents in the life of the\r
+Russian people, the causes and meaning of which are so baffling to\r
+contemporaries, were more clearly and strongly noticeable than among\r
+others. One instance, which had occurred some twenty years before, was a\r
+movement among the peasants to emigrate to some unknown "warm rivers."\r
+Hundreds of peasants, among them the Bogucharovo folk, suddenly began\r
+selling their cattle and moving in whole families toward the southeast.\r
+As birds migrate to somewhere beyond the sea, so these men with their\r
+wives and children streamed to the southeast, to parts where none of\r
+them had ever been. They set off in caravans, bought their freedom one\r
+by one or ran away, and drove or walked toward the "warm rivers." Many\r
+of them were punished, some sent to Siberia, many died of cold and\r
+hunger on the road, many returned of their own accord, and the movement\r
+died down of itself just as it had sprung up, without apparent reason.\r
+But such undercurrents still existed among the people and gathered new\r
+forces ready to manifest themselves just as strangely, unexpectedly, and\r
+at the same time simply, naturally, and forcibly. Now in 1812, to anyone\r
+living in close touch with these people it was apparent that these\r
+undercurrents were acting strongly and nearing an eruption.\r
+\r
+Alpatych, who had reached Bogucharovo shortly before the old prince's\r
+death, noticed an agitation among the peasants, and that contrary to\r
+what was happening in the Bald Hills district, where over a radius of\r
+forty miles all the peasants were moving away and leaving their villages\r
+to be devastated by the Cossacks, the peasants in the steppe region\r
+round Bogucharovo were, it was rumored, in touch with the French,\r
+received leaflets from them that passed from hand to hand, and did not\r
+migrate. He learned from domestic serfs loyal to him that the peasant\r
+Karp, who possessed great influence in the village commune and had\r
+recently been away driving a government transport, had returned with\r
+news that the Cossacks were destroying deserted villages, but that the\r
+French did not harm them. Alpatych also knew that on the previous day\r
+another peasant had even brought from the village of Visloukhovo, which\r
+was occupied by the French, a proclamation by a French general that no\r
+harm would be done to the inhabitants, and if they remained they would\r
+be paid for anything taken from them. As proof of this the peasant had\r
+brought from Visloukhovo a hundred rubles in notes (he did not know that\r
+they were false) paid to him in advance for hay.\r
+\r
+More important still, Alpatych learned that on the morning of the very\r
+day he gave the village Elder orders to collect carts to move the\r
+princess' luggage from Bogucharovo, there had been a village meeting at\r
+which it had been decided not to move but to wait. Yet there was no time\r
+to waste. On the fifteenth, the day of the old prince's death, the\r
+Marshal had insisted on Princess Mary's leaving at once, as it was\r
+becoming dangerous. He had told her that after the sixteenth he could\r
+not be responsible for what might happen. On the evening of the day the\r
+old prince died the Marshal went away, promising to return next day for\r
+the funeral. But this he was unable to do, for he received tidings that\r
+the French had unexpectedly advanced, and had barely time to remove his\r
+own family and valuables from his estate.\r
+\r
+For some thirty years Bogucharovo had been managed by the village Elder,\r
+Dron, whom the old prince called by the diminutive "Dronushka."\r
+\r
+Dron was one of those physically and mentally vigorous peasants who grow\r
+big beards as soon as they are of age and go on unchanged till they are\r
+sixty or seventy, without a gray hair or the loss of a tooth, as\r
+straight and strong at sixty as at thirty.\r
+\r
+Soon after the migration to the "warm rivers," in which he had taken\r
+part like the rest, Dron was made village Elder and overseer of\r
+Bogucharovo, and had since filled that post irreproachably for twenty-\r
+three years. The peasants feared him more than they did their master.\r
+The masters, both the old prince and the young, and the steward\r
+respected him and jestingly called him "the Minister." During the whole\r
+time of his service Dron had never been drunk or ill, never after\r
+sleepless nights or the hardest tasks had he shown the least fatigue,\r
+and though he could not read he had never forgotten a single money\r
+account or the number of quarters of flour in any of the endless\r
+cartloads he sold for the prince, nor a single shock of the whole corn\r
+crop on any single acre of the Bogucharovo fields.\r
+\r
+Alpatych, arriving from the devastated Bald Hills estate, sent for his\r
+Dron on the day of the prince's funeral and told him to have twelve\r
+horses got ready for the princess' carriages and eighteen carts for the\r
+things to be removed from Bogucharovo. Though the peasants paid\r
+quitrent, Alpatych thought no difficulty would be made about complying\r
+with this order, for there were two hundred and thirty households at\r
+work in Bogucharovo and the peasants were well to do. But on hearing the\r
+order Dron lowered his eyes and remained silent. Alpatych named certain\r
+peasants he knew, from whom he told him to take the carts.\r
+\r
+Dron replied that the horses of these peasants were away carting.\r
+Alpatych named others, but they too, according to Dron, had no horses\r
+available: some horses were carting for the government, others were too\r
+weak, and others had died for want of fodder. It seemed that no horses\r
+could be had even for the carriages, much less for the carting.\r
+\r
+Alpatych looked intently at Dron and frowned. Just as Dron was a model\r
+village Elder, so Alpatych had not managed the prince's estates for\r
+twenty years in vain. He was a model steward, possessing in the highest\r
+degree the faculty of divining the needs and instincts of those he dealt\r
+with. Having glanced at Dron he at once understood that his answers did\r
+not express his personal views but the general mood of the Bogucharovo\r
+commune, by which the Elder had already been carried away. But he also\r
+knew that Dron, who had acquired property and was hated by the commune,\r
+must be hesitating between the two camps: the masters' and the serfs'.\r
+He noticed this hesitation in Dron's look and therefore frowned and\r
+moved closer up to him.\r
+\r
+"Now just listen, Dronushka," said he. "Don't talk nonsense to me. His\r
+excellency Prince Andrew himself gave me orders to move all the people\r
+away and not leave them with the enemy, and there is an order from the\r
+Tsar about it too. Anyone who stays is a traitor to the Tsar. Do you\r
+hear?"\r
+\r
+"I hear," Dron answered without lifting his eyes.\r
+\r
+Alpatych was not satisfied with this reply.\r
+\r
+"Eh, Dron, it will turn out badly!" he said, shaking his head.\r
+\r
+"The power is in your hands," Dron rejoined sadly.\r
+\r
+"Eh, Dron, drop it!" Alpatych repeated, withdrawing his hand from his\r
+bosom and solemnly pointing to the floor at Dron's feet. "I can see\r
+through you and three yards into the ground under you," he continued,\r
+gazing at the floor in front of Dron.\r
+\r
+Dron was disconcerted, glanced furtively at Alpatych and again lowered\r
+his eyes.\r
+\r
+"You drop this nonsense and tell the people to get ready to leave their\r
+homes and go to Moscow and to get carts ready for tomorrow morning for\r
+the princess' things. And don't go to any meeting yourself, do you\r
+hear?"\r
+\r
+Dron suddenly fell on his knees.\r
+\r
+"Yakov Alpatych, discharge me! Take the keys from me and discharge me,\r
+for Christ's sake!"\r
+\r
+"Stop that!" cried Alpatych sternly. "I see through you and three yards\r
+under you," he repeated, knowing that his skill in beekeeping, his\r
+knowledge of the right time to sow the oats, and the fact that he had\r
+been able to retain the old prince's favor for twenty years had long\r
+since gained him the reputation of being a wizard, and that the power of\r
+seeing three yards under a man is considered an attribute of wizards.\r
+\r
+Dron got up and was about to say something, but Alpatych interrupted\r
+him.\r
+\r
+"What is it you have got into your heads, eh?... What are you thinking\r
+of, eh?"\r
+\r
+"What am I to do with the people?" said Dron. "They're quite beside\r
+themselves; I have already told them..."\r
+\r
+"'Told them,' I dare say!" said Alpatych. "Are they drinking?" he asked\r
+abruptly.\r
+\r
+"Quite beside themselves, Yakov Alpatych; they've fetched another\r
+barrel."\r
+\r
+"Well, then, listen! I'll go to the police officer, and you tell them\r
+so, and that they must stop this and the carts must be got ready."\r
+\r
+"I understand."\r
+\r
+Alpatych did not insist further. He had managed people for a long time\r
+and knew that the chief way to make them obey is to show no suspicion\r
+that they can possibly disobey. Having wrung a submissive "I understand"\r
+from Dron, Alpatych contented himself with that, though he not only\r
+doubted but felt almost certain that without the help of troops the\r
+carts would not be forthcoming.\r
+\r
+And so it was, for when evening came no carts had been provided. In the\r
+village, outside the drink shop, another meeting was being held, which\r
+decided that the horses should be driven out into the woods and the\r
+carts should not be provided. Without saying anything of this to the\r
+princess, Alpatych had his own belongings taken out of the carts which\r
+had arrived from Bald Hills and had those horses got ready for the\r
+princess' carriages. Meanwhile he went himself to the police\r
+authorities.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+After her father's funeral Princess Mary shut herself up in her room and\r
+did not admit anyone. A maid came to the door to say that Alpatych was\r
+asking for orders about their departure. (This was before his talk with\r
+Dron.) Princess Mary raised herself on the sofa on which she had been\r
+lying and replied through the closed door that she did not mean to go\r
+away and begged to be left in peace.\r
+\r
+The windows of the room in which she was lying looked westward. She lay\r
+on the sofa with her face to the wall, fingering the buttons of the\r
+leather cushion and seeing nothing but that cushion, and her confused\r
+thoughts were centered on one subject--the irrevocability of death and\r
+her own spiritual baseness, which she had not suspected, but which had\r
+shown itself during her father's illness. She wished to pray but did not\r
+dare to, dared not in her present state of mind address herself to God.\r
+She lay for a long time in that position.\r
+\r
+The sun had reached the other side of the house, and its slanting rays\r
+shone into the open window, lighting up the room and part of the morocco\r
+cushion at which Princess Mary was looking. The flow of her thoughts\r
+suddenly stopped. Unconsciously she sat up, smoothed her hair, got up,\r
+and went to the window, involuntarily inhaling the freshness of the\r
+clear but windy evening.\r
+\r
+"Yes, you can well enjoy the evening now! He is gone and no one will\r
+hinder you," she said to herself, and sinking into a chair she let her\r
+head fall on the window sill.\r
+\r
+Someone spoke her name in a soft and tender voice from the garden and\r
+kissed her head. She looked up. It was Mademoiselle Bourienne in a black\r
+dress and weepers. She softly approached Princess Mary, sighed, kissed\r
+her, and immediately began to cry. The princess looked up at her. All\r
+their former disharmony and her own jealousy recurred to her mind. But\r
+she remembered too how he had changed of late toward Mademoiselle\r
+Bourienne and could not bear to see her, thereby showing how unjust were\r
+the reproaches Princess Mary had mentally addressed to her. "Besides, is\r
+it for me, for me who desired his death, to condemn anyone?" she\r
+thought.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary vividly pictured to herself the position of Mademoiselle\r
+Bourienne, whom she had of late kept at a distance, but who yet was\r
+dependent on her and living in her house. She felt sorry for her and\r
+held out her hand with a glance of gentle inquiry. Mademoiselle\r
+Bourienne at once began crying again and kissed that hand, speaking of\r
+the princess' sorrow and making herself a partner in it. She said her\r
+only consolation was the fact that the princess allowed her to share her\r
+sorrow, that all the old misunderstandings should sink into nothing but\r
+this great grief; that she felt herself blameless in regard to everyone,\r
+and that he, from above, saw her affection and gratitude. The princess\r
+heard her, not heeding her words but occasionally looking up at her and\r
+listening to the sound of her voice.\r
+\r
+"Your position is doubly terrible, dear princess," said Mademoiselle\r
+Bourienne after a pause. "I understand that you could not, and cannot,\r
+think of yourself, but with my love for you I must do so.... Has\r
+Alpatych been to you? Has he spoken to you of going away?" she asked.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary did not answer. She did not understand who was to go or\r
+where to. "Is it possible to plan or think of anything now? Is it not\r
+all the same?" she thought, and did not reply.\r
+\r
+"You know, chere Marie," said Mademoiselle Bourienne, "that we are in\r
+danger--are surrounded by the French. It would be dangerous to move now.\r
+If we go we are almost sure to be taken prisoners, and God knows..."\r
+\r
+Princess Mary looked at her companion without understanding what she was\r
+talking about.\r
+\r
+"Oh, if anyone knew how little anything matters to me now," she said.\r
+"Of course I would on no account wish to go away from him.... Alpatych\r
+did say something about going.... Speak to him; I can do nothing,\r
+nothing, and don't want to...."\r
+\r
+"I've spoken to him. He hopes we should be in time to get away tomorrow,\r
+but I think it would now be better to stay here," said Mademoiselle\r
+Bourienne. "Because, you will agree, chere Marie, to fall into the hands\r
+of the soldiers or of riotous peasants would be terrible."\r
+\r
+Mademoiselle Bourienne took from her reticule a proclamation (not\r
+printed on ordinary Russian paper) of General Rameau's, telling people\r
+not to leave their homes and that the French authorities would afford\r
+them proper protection. She handed this to the princess.\r
+\r
+"I think it would be best to appeal to that general," she continued,\r
+"and I am sure that all due respect would be shown you."\r
+\r
+Princess Mary read the paper, and her face began to quiver with stifled\r
+sobs.\r
+\r
+"From whom did you get this?" she asked.\r
+\r
+"They probably recognized that I am French, by my name," replied\r
+Mademoiselle Bourienne blushing.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary, with the paper in her hand, rose from the window and with\r
+a pale face went out of the room and into what had been Prince Andrew's\r
+study.\r
+\r
+"Dunyasha, send Alpatych, or Dronushka, or somebody to me!" she said,\r
+"and tell Mademoiselle Bourienne not to come to me," she added, hearing\r
+Mademoiselle Bourienne's voice. "We must go at once, at once!" she said,\r
+appalled at the thought of being left in the hands of the French.\r
+\r
+"If Prince Andrew heard that I was in the power of the French! That I,\r
+the daughter of Prince Nicholas Bolkonski, asked General Rameau for\r
+protection and accepted his favor!" This idea horrified her, made her\r
+shudder, blush, and feel such a rush of anger and pride as she had never\r
+experienced before. All that was distressing, and especially all that\r
+was humiliating, in her position rose vividly to her mind. "They, the\r
+French, would settle in this house: M. le General Rameau would occupy\r
+Prince Andrew's study and amuse himself by looking through and reading\r
+his letters and papers. Mademoiselle Bourienne would do the honors of\r
+Bogucharovo for him. I should be given a small room as a favor, the\r
+soldiers would violate my father's newly dug grave to steal his crosses\r
+and stars, they would tell me of their victories over the Russians, and\r
+would pretend to sympathize with my sorrow..." thought Princess Mary,\r
+not thinking her own thoughts but feeling bound to think like her father\r
+and her brother. For herself she did not care where she remained or what\r
+happened to her, but she felt herself the representative of her dead\r
+father and of Prince Andrew. Involuntarily she thought their thoughts\r
+and felt their feelings. What they would have said and what they would\r
+have done she felt bound to say and do. She went into Prince Andrew's\r
+study, trying to enter completely into his ideas, and considered her\r
+position.\r
+\r
+The demands of life, which had seemed to her annihilated by her father's\r
+death, all at once rose before her with a new, previously unknown force\r
+and took possession of her.\r
+\r
+Agitated and flushed she paced the room, sending now for Michael\r
+Ivanovich and now for Tikhon or Dron. Dunyasha, the nurse, and the other\r
+maids could not say in how far Mademoiselle Bourienne's statement was\r
+correct. Alpatych was not at home, he had gone to the police. Neither\r
+could the architect Michael Ivanovich, who on being sent for came in\r
+with sleepy eyes, tell Princess Mary anything. With just the same smile\r
+of agreement with which for fifteen years he had been accustomed to\r
+answer the old prince without expressing views of his own, he now\r
+replied to Princess Mary, so that nothing definite could be got from his\r
+answers. The old valet Tikhon, with sunken, emaciated face that bore the\r
+stamp of inconsolable grief, replied: "Yes, Princess" to all Princess\r
+Mary's questions and hardly refrained from sobbing as he looked at her.\r
+\r
+At length Dron, the village Elder, entered the room and with a deep bow\r
+to Princess Mary came to a halt by the doorpost.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary walked up and down the room and stopped in front of him.\r
+\r
+"Dronushka," she said, regarding as a sure friend this Dronushka who\r
+always used to bring a special kind of gingerbread from his visit to the\r
+fair at Vyazma every year and smilingly offer it to her, "Dronushka, now\r
+since our misfortune..." she began, but could not go on.\r
+\r
+"We are all in God's hands," said he, with a sigh.\r
+\r
+They were silent for a while.\r
+\r
+"Dronushka, Alpatych has gone off somewhere and I have no one to turn\r
+to. Is it true, as they tell me, that I can't even go away?"\r
+\r
+"Why shouldn't you go away, your excellency? You can go," said Dron.\r
+\r
+"I was told it would be dangerous because of the enemy. Dear friend, I\r
+can do nothing. I understand nothing. I have nobody! I want to go away\r
+tonight or early tomorrow morning."\r
+\r
+Dron paused. He looked askance at Princess Mary and said: "There are no\r
+horses; I told Yakov Alpatych so."\r
+\r
+"Why are there none?" asked the princess.\r
+\r
+"It's all God's scourge," said Dron. "What horses we had have been taken\r
+for the army or have died--this is such a year! It's not a case of\r
+feeding horses--we may die of hunger ourselves! As it is, some go three\r
+days without eating. We've nothing, we've been ruined."\r
+\r
+Princess Mary listened attentively to what he told her.\r
+\r
+"The peasants are ruined? They have no bread?" she asked.\r
+\r
+"They're dying of hunger," said Dron. "It's not a case of carting."\r
+\r
+"But why didn't you tell me, Dronushka? Isn't it possible to help them?\r
+I'll do all I can...."\r
+\r
+To Princess Mary it was strange that now, at a moment when such sorrow\r
+was filling her soul, there could be rich people and poor, and the rich\r
+could refrain from helping the poor. She had heard vaguely that there\r
+was such a thing as "landlord's corn" which was sometimes given to the\r
+peasants. She also knew that neither her father nor her brother would\r
+refuse to help the peasants in need, she only feared to make some\r
+mistake in speaking about the distribution of the grain she wished to\r
+give. She was glad such cares presented themselves, enabling her without\r
+scruple to forget her own grief. She began asking Dron about the\r
+peasants' needs and what there was in Bogucharovo that belonged to the\r
+landlord.\r
+\r
+"But we have grain belonging to my brother?" she said.\r
+\r
+"The landlord's grain is all safe," replied Dron proudly. "Our prince\r
+did not order it to be sold."\r
+\r
+"Give it to the peasants, let them have all they need; I give you leave\r
+in my brother's name," said she.\r
+\r
+Dron made no answer but sighed deeply.\r
+\r
+"Give them that corn if there is enough of it. Distribute it all. I give\r
+this order in my brother's name; and tell them that what is ours is\r
+theirs. We do not grudge them anything. Tell them so."\r
+\r
+Dron looked intently at the princess while she was speaking.\r
+\r
+"Discharge me, little mother, for God's sake! Order the keys to be taken\r
+from me," said he. "I have served twenty-three years and have done no\r
+wrong. Discharge me, for God's sake!"\r
+\r
+Princess Mary did not understand what he wanted of her or why he was\r
+asking to be discharged. She replied that she had never doubted his\r
+devotion and that she was ready to do anything for him and for the\r
+peasants.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+An hour later Dunyasha came to tell the princess that Dron had come, and\r
+all the peasants had assembled at the barn by the princess' order and\r
+wished to have word with their mistress.\r
+\r
+"But I never told them to come," said Princess Mary. "I only told Dron\r
+to let them have the grain."\r
+\r
+"Only, for God's sake, Princess dear, have them sent away and don't go\r
+out to them. It's all a trick," said Dunyasha, "and when Yakov Alpatych\r
+returns let us get away... and please don't..."\r
+\r
+"What is a trick?" asked Princess Mary in surprise.\r
+\r
+"I know it is, only listen to me for God's sake! Ask nurse too. They say\r
+they don't agree to leave Bogucharovo as you ordered."\r
+\r
+"You're making some mistake. I never ordered them to go away," said\r
+Princess Mary. "Call Dronushka."\r
+\r
+Dron came and confirmed Dunyasha's words; the peasants had come by the\r
+princess' order.\r
+\r
+"But I never sent for them," declared the princess. "You must have given\r
+my message wrong. I only said that you were to give them the grain."\r
+\r
+Dron only sighed in reply.\r
+\r
+"If you order it they will go away," said he.\r
+\r
+"No, no. I'll go out to them," said Princess Mary, and in spite of the\r
+nurse's and Dunyasha's protests she went out into the porch; Dron,\r
+Dunyasha, the nurse, and Michael Ivanovich following her.\r
+\r
+"They probably think I am offering them the grain to bribe them to\r
+remain here, while I myself go away leaving them to the mercy of the\r
+French," thought Princess Mary. "I will offer them monthly rations and\r
+housing at our Moscow estate. I am sure Andrew would do even more in my\r
+place," she thought as she went out in the twilight toward the crowd\r
+standing on the pasture by the barn.\r
+\r
+The men crowded closer together, stirred, and rapidly took off their\r
+hats. Princess Mary lowered her eyes and, tripping over her skirt, came\r
+close up to them. So many different eyes, old and young, were fixed on\r
+her, and there were so many different faces, that she could not\r
+distinguish any of them and, feeling that she must speak to them all at\r
+once, did not know how to do it. But again the sense that she\r
+represented her father and her brother gave her courage, and she boldly\r
+began her speech.\r
+\r
+"I am very glad you have come," she said without raising her eyes, and\r
+feeling her heart beating quickly and violently. "Dronushka tells me\r
+that the war has ruined you. That is our common misfortune, and I shall\r
+grudge nothing to help you. I am myself going away because it is\r
+dangerous here... the enemy is near... because... I am giving you\r
+everything, my friends, and I beg you to take everything, all our grain,\r
+so that you may not suffer want! And if you have been told that I am\r
+giving you the grain to keep you here--that is not true. On the\r
+contrary, I ask you to go with all your belongings to our estate near\r
+Moscow, and I promise you I will see to it that there you shall want for\r
+nothing. You shall be given food and lodging."\r
+\r
+The princess stopped. Sighs were the only sound heard in the crowd.\r
+\r
+"I am not doing this on my own account," she continued, "I do it in the\r
+name of my dead father, who was a good master to you, and of my brother\r
+and his son."\r
+\r
+Again she paused. No one broke the silence.\r
+\r
+"Ours is a common misfortune and we will share it together. All that is\r
+mine is yours," she concluded, scanning the faces before her.\r
+\r
+All eyes were gazing at her with one and the same expression. She could\r
+not fathom whether it was curiosity, devotion, gratitude, or\r
+apprehension and distrust--but the expression on all the faces was\r
+identical.\r
+\r
+"We are all very thankful for your bounty, but it won't do for us to\r
+take the landlord's grain," said a voice at the back of the crowd.\r
+\r
+"But why not?" asked the princess.\r
+\r
+No one replied and Princess Mary, looking round at the crowd, found that\r
+every eye she met now was immediately dropped.\r
+\r
+"But why don't you want to take it?" she asked again.\r
+\r
+No one answered.\r
+\r
+The silence began to oppress the princess and she tried to catch\r
+someone's eye.\r
+\r
+"Why don't you speak?" she inquired of a very old man who stood just in\r
+front of her leaning on his stick. "If you think something more is\r
+wanted, tell me! I will do anything," said she, catching his eye.\r
+\r
+But as if this angered him, he bent his head quite low and muttered:\r
+\r
+"Why should we agree? We don't want the grain."\r
+\r
+"Why should we give up everything? We don't agree. Don't agree.... We\r
+are sorry for you, but we're not willing. Go away yourself, alone..."\r
+came from various sides of the crowd.\r
+\r
+And again all the faces in that crowd bore an identical expression,\r
+though now it was certainly not an expression of curiosity or gratitude,\r
+but of angry resolve.\r
+\r
+"But you can't have understood me," said Princess Mary with a sad smile.\r
+"Why don't you want to go? I promise to house and feed you, while here\r
+the enemy would ruin you..."\r
+\r
+But her voice was drowned by the voices of the crowd.\r
+\r
+"We're not willing. Let them ruin us! We won't take your grain. We don't\r
+agree."\r
+\r
+Again Princess Mary tried to catch someone's eye, but not a single eye\r
+in the crowd was turned to her; evidently they were all trying to avoid\r
+her look. She felt strange and awkward.\r
+\r
+"Oh yes, an artful tale! Follow her into slavery! Pull down your houses\r
+and go into bondage! I dare say! 'I'll give you grain, indeed!' she\r
+says," voices in the crowd were heard saying.\r
+\r
+With drooping head Princess Mary left the crowd and went back to the\r
+house. Having repeated her order to Dron to have horses ready for her\r
+departure next morning, she went to her room and remained alone with her\r
+own thoughts.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+For a long time that night Princess Mary sat by the open window of her\r
+room hearing the sound of the peasants' voices that reached her from the\r
+village, but it was not of them she was thinking. She felt that she\r
+could not understand them however much she might think about them. She\r
+thought only of one thing, her sorrow, which, after the break caused by\r
+cares for the present, seemed already to belong to the past. Now she\r
+could remember it and weep or pray.\r
+\r
+After sunset the wind had dropped. The night was calm and fresh. Toward\r
+midnight the voices began to subside, a cock crowed, the full moon began\r
+to show from behind the lime trees, a fresh white dewy mist began to\r
+rise, and stillness reigned over the village and the house.\r
+\r
+Pictures of the near past--her father's illness and last moments--rose\r
+one after another to her memory. With mournful pleasure she now lingered\r
+over these images, repelling with horror only the last one, the picture\r
+of his death, which she felt she could not contemplate even in\r
+imagination at this still and mystic hour of night. And these pictures\r
+presented themselves to her so clearly and in such detail that they\r
+seemed now present, now past, and now future.\r
+\r
+She vividly recalled the moment when he had his first stroke and was\r
+being dragged along by his armpits through the garden at Bald Hills,\r
+muttering something with his helpless tongue, twitching his gray\r
+eyebrows and looking uneasily and timidly at her.\r
+\r
+"Even then he wanted to tell me what he told me the day he died," she\r
+thought. "He had always thought what he said then." And she recalled in\r
+all its detail the night at Bald Hills before he had the last stroke,\r
+when with a foreboding of disaster she had remained at home against his\r
+will. She had not slept and had stolen downstairs on tiptoe, and going\r
+to the door of the conservatory where he slept that night had listened\r
+at the door. In a suffering and weary voice he was saying something to\r
+Tikhon, speaking of the Crimea and its warm nights and of the Empress.\r
+Evidently he had wanted to talk. "And why didn't he call me? Why didn't\r
+he let me be there instead of Tikhon?" Princess Mary had thought and\r
+thought again now. "Now he will never tell anyone what he had in his\r
+soul. Never will that moment return for him or for me when he might have\r
+said all he longed to say, and not Tikhon but I might have heard and\r
+understood him. Why didn't I enter the room?" she thought. "Perhaps he\r
+would then have said to me what he said the day he died. While talking\r
+to Tikhon he asked about me twice. He wanted to see me, and I was\r
+standing close by, outside the door. It was sad and painful for him to\r
+talk to Tikhon who did not understand him. I remember how he began\r
+speaking to him about Lise as if she were alive--he had forgotten she\r
+was dead--and Tikhon reminded him that she was no more, and he shouted,\r
+'Fool!' He was greatly depressed. From behind the door I heard how he\r
+lay down on his bed groaning and loudly exclaimed, 'My God!' Why didn't\r
+I go in then? What could he have done to me? What could I have lost? And\r
+perhaps he would then have been comforted and would have said that word\r
+to me." And Princess Mary uttered aloud the caressing word he had said\r
+to her on the day of his death. "Dear-est!" she repeated, and began\r
+sobbing, with tears that relieved her soul. She now saw his face before\r
+her. And not the face she had known ever since she could remember and\r
+had always seen at a distance, but the timid, feeble face she had seen\r
+for the first time quite closely, with all its wrinkles and details,\r
+when she stooped near to his mouth to catch what he said.\r
+\r
+"Dear-est!" she repeated again.\r
+\r
+"What was he thinking when he uttered that word? What is he thinking\r
+now?" This question suddenly presented itself to her, and in answer she\r
+saw him before her with the expression that was on his face as he lay in\r
+his coffin with his chin bound up with a white handkerchief. And the\r
+horror that had seized her when she touched him and convinced herself\r
+that that was not he, but something mysterious and horrible, seized her\r
+again. She tried to think of something else and to pray, but could do\r
+neither. With wide-open eyes she gazed at the moonlight and the shadows,\r
+expecting every moment to see his dead face, and she felt that the\r
+silence brooding over the house and within it held her fast.\r
+\r
+"Dunyasha," she whispered. "Dunyasha!" she screamed wildly, and tearing\r
+herself out of this silence she ran to the servants' quarters to meet\r
+her old nurse and the maidservants who came running toward her.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIII\r
+\r
+On the seventeenth of August Rostov and Ilyin, accompanied by Lavrushka\r
+who had just returned from captivity and by an hussar orderly, left\r
+their quarters at Yankovo, ten miles from Bogucharovo, and went for a\r
+ride--to try a new horse Ilyin had bought and to find out whether there\r
+was any hay to be had in the villages.\r
+\r
+For the last three days Bogucharovo had lain between the two hostile\r
+armies, so that it was as easy for the Russian rearguard to get to it as\r
+for the French vanguard; Rostov, as a careful squadron commander, wished\r
+to take such provisions as remained at Bogucharovo before the French\r
+could get them.\r
+\r
+Rostov and Ilyin were in the merriest of moods. On the way to\r
+Bogucharovo, a princely estate with a dwelling house and farm where they\r
+hoped to find many domestic serfs and pretty girls, they questioned\r
+Lavrushka about Napoleon and laughed at his stories, and raced one\r
+another to try Ilyin's horse.\r
+\r
+Rostov had no idea that the village he was entering was the property of\r
+that very Bolkonski who had been engaged to his sister.\r
+\r
+Rostov and Ilyin gave rein to their horses for a last race along the\r
+incline before reaching Bogucharovo, and Rostov, outstripping Ilyin, was\r
+the first to gallop into the village street.\r
+\r
+"You're first!" cried Ilyin, flushed.\r
+\r
+"Yes, always first both on the grassland and here," answered Rostov,\r
+stroking his heated Donets horse.\r
+\r
+"And I'd have won on my Frenchy, your excellency," said Lavrushka from\r
+behind, alluding to his shabby cart horse, "only I didn't wish to\r
+mortify you."\r
+\r
+They rode at a footpace to the barn, where a large crowd of peasants was\r
+standing.\r
+\r
+Some of the men bared their heads, others stared at the new arrivals\r
+without doffing their caps. Two tall old peasants with wrinkled faces\r
+and scanty beards emerged from the tavern, smiling, staggering, and\r
+singing some incoherent song, and approached the officers.\r
+\r
+"Fine fellows!" said Rostov laughing. "Is there any hay here?"\r
+\r
+"And how like one another," said Ilyin.\r
+\r
+"A mo-o-st me-r-r-y co-o-m-pa...!" sang one of the peasants with a\r
+blissful smile.\r
+\r
+One of the men came out of the crowd and went up to Rostov.\r
+\r
+"Who do you belong to?" he asked.\r
+\r
+"The French," replied Ilyin jestingly, "and here is Napoleon himself"--\r
+and he pointed to Lavrushka.\r
+\r
+"Then you are Russians?" the peasant asked again.\r
+\r
+"And is there a large force of you here?" said another, a short man,\r
+coming up.\r
+\r
+"Very large," answered Rostov. "But why have you collected here?" he\r
+added. "Is it a holiday?"\r
+\r
+"The old men have met to talk over the business of the commune," replied\r
+the peasant, moving away.\r
+\r
+At that moment, on the road leading from the big house, two women and a\r
+man in a white hat were seen coming toward the officers.\r
+\r
+"The one in pink is mine, so keep off!" said Ilyin on seeing Dunyasha\r
+running resolutely toward him.\r
+\r
+"She'll be ours!" said Lavrushka to Ilyin, winking.\r
+\r
+"What do you want, my pretty?" said Ilyin with a smile.\r
+\r
+"The princess ordered me to ask your regiment and your name."\r
+\r
+"This is Count Rostov, squadron commander, and I am your humble\r
+servant."\r
+\r
+"Co-o-om-pa-ny!" roared the tipsy peasant with a beatific smile as he\r
+looked at Ilyin talking to the girl. Following Dunyasha, Alpatych\r
+advanced to Rostov, having bared his head while still at a distance.\r
+\r
+"May I make bold to trouble your honor?" said he respectfully, but with\r
+a shade of contempt for the youthfulness of this officer and with a hand\r
+thrust into his bosom. "My mistress, daughter of General in Chief Prince\r
+Nicholas Bolkonski who died on the fifteenth of this month, finding\r
+herself in difficulties owing to the boorishness of these people"--he\r
+pointed to the peasants--"asks you to come up to the house.... Won't\r
+you, please, ride on a little farther," said Alpatych with a melancholy\r
+smile, "as it is not convenient in the presence of...?" He pointed to\r
+the two peasants who kept as close to him as horseflies to a horse.\r
+\r
+"Ah!... Alpatych... Ah, Yakov Alpatych... Grand! Forgive us for Christ's\r
+sake, eh?" said the peasants, smiling joyfully at him.\r
+\r
+Rostov looked at the tipsy peasants and smiled.\r
+\r
+"Or perhaps they amuse your honor?" remarked Alpatych with a staid air,\r
+as he pointed at the old men with his free hand.\r
+\r
+"No, there's not much to be amused at here," said Rostov, and rode on a\r
+little way. "What's the matter?" he asked.\r
+\r
+"I make bold to inform your honor that the rude peasants here don't wish\r
+to let the mistress leave the estate, and threaten to unharness her\r
+horses, so that though everything has been packed up since morning, her\r
+excellency cannot get away."\r
+\r
+"Impossible!" exclaimed Rostov.\r
+\r
+"I have the honor to report to you the actual truth," said Alpatych.\r
+\r
+Rostov dismounted, gave his horse to the orderly, and followed Alpatych\r
+to the house, questioning him as to the state of affairs. It appeared\r
+that the princess' offer of corn to the peasants the previous day, and\r
+her talk with Dron and at the meeting, had actually had so bad an effect\r
+that Dron had finally given up the keys and joined the peasants and had\r
+not appeared when Alpatych sent for him; and that in the morning when\r
+the princess gave orders to harness for her journey, the peasants had\r
+come in a large crowd to the barn and sent word that they would not let\r
+her leave the village: that there was an order not to move, and that\r
+they would unharness the horses. Alpatych had gone out to admonish them,\r
+but was told (it was chiefly Karp who did the talking, Dron not showing\r
+himself in the crowd) that they could not let the princess go, that\r
+there was an order to the contrary, but that if she stayed they would\r
+serve her as before and obey her in everything.\r
+\r
+At the moment when Rostov and Ilyin were galloping along the road,\r
+Princess Mary, despite the dissuasions of Alpatych, her nurse, and the\r
+maids, had given orders to harness and intended to start, but when the\r
+cavalrymen were espied they were taken for Frenchmen, the coachman ran\r
+away, and the women in the house began to wail.\r
+\r
+"Father! Benefactor! God has sent you!" exclaimed deeply moved voices as\r
+Rostov passed through the anteroom.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary was sitting helpless and bewildered in the large sitting\r
+room, when Rostov was shown in. She could not grasp who he was and why\r
+he had come, or what was happening to her. When she saw his Russian\r
+face, and by his walk and the first words he uttered recognized him as a\r
+man of her own class, she glanced at him with her deep radiant look and\r
+began speaking in a voice that faltered and trembled with emotion. This\r
+meeting immediately struck Rostov as a romantic event. "A helpless girl\r
+overwhelmed with grief, left to the mercy of coarse, rioting peasants!\r
+And what a strange fate sent me here! What gentleness and nobility there\r
+are in her features and expression!" thought he as he looked at her and\r
+listened to her timid story.\r
+\r
+When she began to tell him that all this had happened the day after her\r
+father's funeral, her voice trembled. She turned away, and then, as if\r
+fearing he might take her words as meant to move him to pity, looked at\r
+him with an apprehensive glance of inquiry. There were tears in Rostov's\r
+eyes. Princess Mary noticed this and glanced gratefully at him with that\r
+radiant look which caused the plainness of her face to be forgotten.\r
+\r
+"I cannot express, Princess, how glad I am that I happened to ride here\r
+and am able to show my readiness to serve you," said Rostov, rising. "Go\r
+when you please, and I give you my word of honor that no one shall dare\r
+to cause you annoyance if only you will allow me to act as your escort."\r
+And bowing respectfully, as if to a lady of royal blood, he moved toward\r
+the door.\r
+\r
+Rostov's deferential tone seemed to indicate that though he would\r
+consider himself happy to be acquainted with her, he did not wish to\r
+take advantage of her misfortunes to intrude upon her.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary understood this and appreciated his delicacy.\r
+\r
+"I am very, very grateful to you," she said in French, "but I hope it\r
+was all a misunderstanding and that no one is to blame for it." She\r
+suddenly began to cry.\r
+\r
+"Excuse me!" she said.\r
+\r
+Rostov, knitting his brows, left the room with another low bow.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIV\r
+\r
+"Well, is she pretty? Ah, friend--my pink one is delicious; her name is\r
+Dunyasha...."\r
+\r
+But on glancing at Rostov's face Ilyin stopped short. He saw that his\r
+hero and commander was following quite a different train of thought.\r
+\r
+Rostov glanced angrily at Ilyin and without replying strode off with\r
+rapid steps to the village.\r
+\r
+"I'll show them; I'll give it to them, the brigands!" said he to\r
+himself.\r
+\r
+Alpatych at a gliding trot, only just managing not to run, kept up with\r
+him with difficulty.\r
+\r
+"What decision have you been pleased to come to?" said he.\r
+\r
+Rostov stopped and, clenching his fists, suddenly and sternly turned on\r
+Alpatych.\r
+\r
+"Decision? What decision? Old dotard!..." cried he. "What have you been\r
+about? Eh? The peasants are rioting, and you can't manage them? You're a\r
+traitor yourself! I know you. I'll flay you all alive!..." And as if\r
+afraid of wasting his store of anger, he left Alpatych and went rapidly\r
+forward. Alpatych, mastering his offended feelings, kept pace with\r
+Rostov at a gliding gait and continued to impart his views. He said the\r
+peasants were obdurate and that at the present moment it would be\r
+imprudent to "overresist" them without an armed force, and would it not\r
+be better first to send for the military?\r
+\r
+"I'll give them armed force... I'll 'overresist' them!" uttered Rostov\r
+meaninglessly, breathless with irrational animal fury and the need to\r
+vent it.\r
+\r
+Without considering what he would do he moved unconciously with quick,\r
+resolute steps toward the crowd. And the nearer he drew to it the more\r
+Alpatych felt that this unreasonable action might produce good results.\r
+The peasants in the crowd were similarly impressed when they saw\r
+Rostov's rapid, firm steps and resolute, frowning face.\r
+\r
+After the hussars had come to the village and Rostov had gone to see the\r
+princess, a certain confusion and dissension had arisen among the crowd.\r
+Some of the peasants said that these new arrivals were Russians and\r
+might take it amiss that the mistress was being detained. Dron was of\r
+this opinion, but as soon as he expressed it Karp and others attacked\r
+their ex-Elder.\r
+\r
+"How many years have you been fattening on the commune?" Karp shouted at\r
+him. "It's all one to you! You'll dig up your pot of money and take it\r
+away with you.... What does it matter to you whether our homes are\r
+ruined or not?"\r
+\r
+"We've been told to keep order, and that no one is to leave their homes\r
+or take away a single grain, and that's all about it!" cried another.\r
+\r
+"It was your son's turn to be conscripted, but no fear! You begrudged\r
+your lump of a son," a little old man suddenly began attacking Dron--\r
+"and so they took my Vanka to be shaved for a soldier! But we all have\r
+to die."\r
+\r
+"To be sure, we all have to die. I'm not against the commune," said\r
+Dron.\r
+\r
+"That's it--not against it! You've filled your belly...."\r
+\r
+The two tall peasants had their say. As soon as Rostov, followed by\r
+Ilyin, Lavrushka, and Alpatych, came up to the crowd, Karp, thrusting\r
+his fingers into his belt and smiling a little, walked to the front.\r
+Dron on the contrary retired to the rear and the crowd drew closer\r
+together.\r
+\r
+"Who is your Elder here? Hey?" shouted Rostov, coming up to the crowd\r
+with quick steps.\r
+\r
+"The Elder? What do you want with him?..." asked Karp.\r
+\r
+But before the words were well out of his mouth, his cap flew off and a\r
+fierce blow jerked his head to one side.\r
+\r
+"Caps off, traitors!" shouted Rostov in a wrathful voice. "Where's the\r
+Elder?" he cried furiously.\r
+\r
+"The Elder.... He wants the Elder!... Dron Zakharych, you!" meek and\r
+flustered voices here and there were heard calling and caps began to\r
+come off their heads.\r
+\r
+"We don't riot, we're following the orders," declared Karp, and at that\r
+moment several voices began speaking together.\r
+\r
+"It's as the old men have decided--there's too many of you giving\r
+orders."\r
+\r
+"Arguing? Mutiny!... Brigands! Traitors!" cried Rostov unmeaningly in a\r
+voice not his own, gripping Karp by the collar. "Bind him, bind him!" he\r
+shouted, though there was no one to bind him but Lavrushka and Alpatych.\r
+\r
+Lavrushka, however, ran up to Karp and seized him by the arms from\r
+behind.\r
+\r
+"Shall I call up our men from beyond the hill?" he called out.\r
+\r
+Alpatych turned to the peasants and ordered two of them by name to come\r
+and bind Karp. The men obediently came out of the crowd and began taking\r
+off their belts.\r
+\r
+"Where's the Elder?" demanded Rostov in a loud voice.\r
+\r
+With a pale and frowning face Dron stepped out of the crowd.\r
+\r
+"Are you the Elder? Bind him, Lavrushka!" shouted Rostov, as if that\r
+order, too, could not possibly meet with any opposition.\r
+\r
+And in fact two more peasants began binding Dron, who took off his own\r
+belt and handed it to them, as if to aid them.\r
+\r
+"And you all listen to me!" said Rostov to the peasants. "Be off to your\r
+houses at once, and don't let one of your voices be heard!"\r
+\r
+"Why, we've not done any harm! We did it just out of foolishness. It's\r
+all nonsense... I said then that it was not in order," voices were heard\r
+bickering with one another.\r
+\r
+\r
+"There! What did I say?" said Alpatych, coming into his own again. "It's\r
+wrong, lads!"\r
+\r
+"All our stupidity, Yakov Alpatych," came the answers, and the crowd\r
+began at once to disperse through the village.\r
+\r
+The two bound men were led off to the master's house. The two drunken\r
+peasants followed them.\r
+\r
+"Aye, when I look at you!..." said one of them to Karp.\r
+\r
+"How can one talk to the masters like that? What were you thinking of,\r
+you fool?" added the other--"A real fool!"\r
+\r
+Two hours later the carts were standing in the courtyard of the\r
+Bogucharovo house. The peasants were briskly carrying out the\r
+proprietor's goods and packing them on the carts, and Dron, liberated at\r
+Princess Mary's wish from the cupboard where he had been confined, was\r
+standing in the yard directing the men.\r
+\r
+"Don't put it in so carelessly," said one of the peasants, a man with a\r
+round smiling face, taking a casket from a housemaid. "You know it has\r
+cost money! How can you chuck it in like that or shove it under the cord\r
+where it'll get rubbed? I don't like that way of doing things. Let it\r
+all be done properly, according to rule. Look here, put it under the\r
+bast matting and cover it with hay--that's the way!"\r
+\r
+"Eh, books, books!" said another peasant, bringing out Prince Andrew's\r
+library cupboards. "Don't catch up against it! It's heavy, lads--solid\r
+books."\r
+\r
+"Yes, they worked all day and didn't play!" remarked the tall, round-\r
+faced peasant gravely, pointing with a significant wink at the\r
+dictionaries that were on the top.\r
+\r
+Unwilling to obtrude himself on the princess, Rostov did not go back to\r
+the house but remained in the village awaiting her departure. When her\r
+carriage drove out of the house, he mounted and accompanied her eight\r
+miles from Bogucharovo to where the road was occupied by our troops. At\r
+the inn at Yankovo he respectfully took leave of her, for the first time\r
+permitting himself to kiss her hand.\r
+\r
+"How can you speak so!" he blushingly replied to Princess Mary's\r
+expressions of gratitude for her deliverance, as she termed what had\r
+occurred. "Any police officer would have done as much! If we had had\r
+only peasants to fight, we should not have let the enemy come so far,"\r
+said he with a sense of shame and wishing to change the subject. "I am\r
+only happy to have had the opportunity of making your acquaintance.\r
+Good-bye, Princess. I wish you happiness and consolation and hope to\r
+meet you again in happier circumstances. If you don't want to make me\r
+blush, please don't thank me!"\r
+\r
+But the princess, if she did not again thank him in words, thanked him\r
+with the whole expression of her face, radiant with gratitude and\r
+tenderness. She could not believe that there was nothing to thank him\r
+for. On the contrary, it seemed to her certain that had he not been\r
+there she would have perished at the hands of the mutineers and of the\r
+French, and that he had exposed himself to terrible and obvious danger\r
+to save her, and even more certain was it that he was a man of lofty and\r
+noble soul, able to understand her position and her sorrow. His kind,\r
+honest eyes, with the tears rising in them when she herself had begun to\r
+cry as she spoke of her loss, did not leave her memory.\r
+\r
+When she had taken leave of him and remained alone she suddenly felt her\r
+eyes filling with tears, and then not for the first time the strange\r
+question presented itself to her: did she love him?\r
+\r
+On the rest of the way to Moscow, though the princess' position was not\r
+a cheerful one, Dunyasha, who went with her in the carriage, more than\r
+once noticed that her mistress leaned out of the window and smiled at\r
+something with an expression of mingled joy and sorrow.\r
+\r
+"Well, supposing I do love him?" thought Princess Mary.\r
+\r
+Ashamed as she was of acknowledging to herself that she had fallen in\r
+love with a man who would perhaps never love her, she comforted herself\r
+with the thought that no one would ever know it and that she would not\r
+be to blame if, without ever speaking of it to anyone, she continued to\r
+the end of her life to love the man with whom she had fallen in love for\r
+the first and last time in her life.\r
+\r
+Sometimes when she recalled his looks, his sympathy, and his words,\r
+happiness did not appear impossible to her. It was at those moments that\r
+Dunyasha noticed her smiling as she looked out of the carriage window.\r
+\r
+"Was it not fate that brought him to Bogucharovo, and at that very\r
+moment?" thought Princess Mary. "And that caused his sister to refuse my\r
+brother?" And in all this Princess Mary saw the hand of Providence.\r
+\r
+The impression the princess made on Rostov was a very agreeable one. To\r
+remember her gave him pleasure, and when his comrades, hearing of his\r
+adventure at Bogucharovo, rallied him on having gone to look for hay and\r
+having picked up one of the wealthiest heiresses in Russia, he grew\r
+angry. It made him angry just because the idea of marrying the gentle\r
+Princess Mary, who was attractive to him and had an enormous fortune,\r
+had against his will more than once entered his head. For himself\r
+personally Nicholas could not wish for a better wife: by marrying her he\r
+would make the countess his mother happy, would be able to put his\r
+father's affairs in order, and would even--he felt it--ensure Princess\r
+Mary's happiness.\r
+\r
+But Sonya? And his plighted word? That was why Rostov grew angry when he\r
+was rallied about Princess Bolkonskaya.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XV\r
+\r
+On receiving command of the armies Kutuzov remembered Prince Andrew and\r
+sent an order for him to report at headquarters.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew arrived at Tsarevo-Zaymishche on the very day and at the\r
+very hour that Kutuzov was reviewing the troops for the first time. He\r
+stopped in the village at the priest's house in front of which stood the\r
+commander-in-chief's carriage, and he sat down on the bench at the gate\r
+awaiting his Serene Highness, as everyone now called Kutuzov. From the\r
+field beyond the village came now sounds of regimental music and now the\r
+roar of many voices shouting "Hurrah!" to the new commander-in-chief.\r
+Two orderlies, a courier and a major-domo, stood near by, some ten paces\r
+from Prince Andrew, availing themselves of Kutuzov's absence and of the\r
+fine weather. A short, swarthy lieutenant colonel of hussars with thick\r
+mustaches and whiskers rode up to the gate and, glancing at Prince\r
+Andrew, inquired whether his Serene Highness was putting up there and\r
+whether he would soon be back.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew replied that he was not on his Serene Highness' staff but\r
+was himself a new arrival. The lieutenant colonel turned to a smart\r
+orderly, who, with the peculiar contempt with which a commander-in-\r
+chief's orderly speaks to officers, replied:\r
+\r
+"What? His Serene Highness? I expect he'll be here soon. What do you\r
+want?"\r
+\r
+The lieutenant colonel of hussars smiled beneath his mustache at the\r
+orderly's tone, dismounted, gave his horse to a dispatch runner, and\r
+approached Bolkonski with a slight bow. Bolkonski made room for him on\r
+the bench and the lieutenant colonel sat down beside him.\r
+\r
+"You're also waiting for the commander-in-chief?" said he. "They say he\r
+weceives evewyone, thank God!... It's awful with those sausage eaters!\r
+Ermolov had weason to ask to be pwomoted to be a German! Now p'waps\r
+Wussians will get a look in. As it was, devil only knows what was\r
+happening. We kept wetweating and wetweating. Did you take part in the\r
+campaign?" he asked.\r
+\r
+"I had the pleasure," replied Prince Andrew, "not only of taking part in\r
+the retreat but of losing in that retreat all I held dear--not to\r
+mention the estate and home of my birth--my father, who died of grief. I\r
+belong to the province of Smolensk."\r
+\r
+"Ah? You're Pwince Bolkonski? Vewy glad to make your acquaintance! I'm\r
+Lieutenant Colonel Denisov, better known as 'Vaska,'" said Denisov,\r
+pressing Prince Andrew's hand and looking into his face with a\r
+particularly kindly attention. "Yes, I heard," said he sympathetically,\r
+and after a short pause added: "Yes, it's Scythian warfare. It's all\r
+vewy well--only not for those who get it in the neck. So you are Pwince\r
+Andwew Bolkonski?" He swayed his head. "Vewy pleased, Pwince, to make\r
+your acquaintance!" he repeated again, smiling sadly, and he again\r
+pressed Prince Andrew's hand.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew knew Denisov from what Natasha had told him of her first\r
+suitor. This memory carried him sadly and sweetly back to those painful\r
+feelings of which he had not thought lately, but which still found place\r
+in his soul. Of late he had received so many new and very serious\r
+impressions--such as the retreat from Smolensk, his visit to Bald Hills,\r
+and the recent news of his father's death--and had experienced so many\r
+emotions, that for a long time past those memories had not entered his\r
+mind, and now that they did, they did not act on him with nearly their\r
+former strength. For Denisov, too, the memories awakened by the name of\r
+Bolkonski belonged to a distant, romantic past, when after supper and\r
+after Natasha's singing he had proposed to a little girl of fifteen\r
+without realizing what he was doing. He smiled at the recollection of\r
+that time and of his love for Natasha, and passed at once to what now\r
+interested him passionately and exclusively. This was a plan of campaign\r
+he had devised while serving at the outposts during the retreat. He had\r
+proposed that plan to Barclay de Tolly and now wished to propose it to\r
+Kutuzov. The plan was based on the fact that the French line of\r
+operation was too extended, and it proposed that instead of, or\r
+concurrently with, action on the front to bar the advance of the French,\r
+we should attack their line of communication. He began explaining his\r
+plan to Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+"They can't hold all that line. It's impossible. I will undertake to\r
+bweak thwough. Give me five hundwed men and I will bweak the line,\r
+that's certain! There's only one way--guewilla warfare!"\r
+\r
+Denisov rose and began gesticulating as he explained his plan to\r
+Bolkonski. In the midst of his explanation shouts were heard from the\r
+army, growing more incoherent and more diffused, mingling with music and\r
+songs and coming from the field where the review was held. Sounds of\r
+hoofs and shouts were nearing the village.\r
+\r
+"He's coming! He's coming!" shouted a Cossack standing at the gate.\r
+\r
+Bolkonski and Denisov moved to the gate, at which a knot of soldiers (a\r
+guard of honor) was standing, and they saw Kutuzov coming down the\r
+street mounted on a rather small sorrel horse. A huge suite of generals\r
+rode behind him. Barclay was riding almost beside him, and a crowd of\r
+officers ran after and around them shouting, "Hurrah!"\r
+\r
+His adjutants galloped into the yard before him. Kutuzov was impatiently\r
+urging on his horse, which ambled smoothly under his weight, and he\r
+raised his hand to his white Horse Guard's cap with a red band and no\r
+peak, nodding his head continually. When he came up to the guard of\r
+honor, a fine set of Grenadiers mostly wearing decorations, who were\r
+giving him the salute, he looked at them silently and attentively for\r
+nearly a minute with the steady gaze of a commander and then turned to\r
+the crowd of generals and officers surrounding him. Suddenly his face\r
+assumed a subtle expression, he shrugged his shoulders with an air of\r
+perplexity.\r
+\r
+"And with such fine fellows to retreat and retreat! Well, good-by,\r
+General," he added, and rode into the yard past Prince Andrew and\r
+Denisov.\r
+\r
+"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" shouted those behind him.\r
+\r
+Since Prince Andrew had last seen him Kutuzov had grown still more\r
+corpulent, flaccid, and fat. But the bleached eyeball, the scar, and the\r
+familiar weariness of his expression were still the same. He was wearing\r
+the white Horse Guard's cap and a military overcoat with a whip hanging\r
+over his shoulder by a thin strap. He sat heavily and swayed limply on\r
+his brisk little horse.\r
+\r
+"Whew... whew... whew!" he whistled just audibly as he rode into the\r
+yard. His face expressed the relief of relaxed strain felt by a man who\r
+means to rest after a ceremony. He drew his left foot out of the stirrup\r
+and, lurching with his whole body and puckering his face with the\r
+effort, raised it with difficulty onto the saddle, leaned on his knee,\r
+groaned, and slipped down into the arms of the Cossacks and adjutants\r
+who stood ready to assist him.\r
+\r
+He pulled himself together, looked round, screwing up his eyes, glanced\r
+at Prince Andrew, and, evidently not recognizing him, moved with his\r
+waddling gait to the porch. "Whew... whew... whew!" he whistled, and\r
+again glanced at Prince Andrew. As often occurs with old men, it was\r
+only after some seconds that the impression produced by Prince Andrew's\r
+face linked itself up with Kutuzov's remembrance of his personality.\r
+\r
+"Ah, how do you do, my dear prince? How do you do, my dear boy? Come\r
+along..." said he, glancing wearily round, and he stepped onto the porch\r
+which creaked under his weight.\r
+\r
+He unbuttoned his coat and sat down on a bench in the porch.\r
+\r
+"And how's your father?"\r
+\r
+"I received news of his death, yesterday," replied Prince Andrew\r
+abruptly.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov looked at him with eyes wide open with dismay and then took off\r
+his cap and crossed himself:\r
+\r
+"May the kingdom of Heaven be his! God's will be done to us all!" He\r
+sighed deeply, his whole chest heaving, and was silent for a while. "I\r
+loved him and respected him, and sympathize with you with all my heart."\r
+\r
+He embraced Prince Andrew, pressing him to his fat breast, and for some\r
+time did not let him go. When he released him Prince Andrew saw that\r
+Kutuzov's flabby lips were trembling and that tears were in his eyes. He\r
+sighed and pressed on the bench with both hands to raise himself.\r
+\r
+"Come! Come with me, we'll have a talk," said he.\r
+\r
+But at that moment Denisov, no more intimidated by his superiors than by\r
+the enemy, came with jingling spurs up the steps of the porch, despite\r
+the angry whispers of the adjutants who tried to stop him. Kutuzov, his\r
+hands still pressed on the seat, glanced at him glumly. Denisov, having\r
+given his name, announced that he had to communicate to his Serene\r
+Highness a matter of great importance for their country's welfare.\r
+Kutuzov looked wearily at him and, lifting his hands with a gesture of\r
+annoyance, folded them across his stomach, repeating the words: "For our\r
+country's welfare? Well, what is it? Speak!" Denisov blushed like a girl\r
+(it was strange to see the color rise in that shaggy, bibulous, time-\r
+worn face) and boldly began to expound his plan of cutting the enemy's\r
+lines of communication between Smolensk and Vyazma. Denisov came from\r
+those parts and knew the country well. His plan seemed decidedly a good\r
+one, especially from the strength of conviction with which he spoke.\r
+Kutuzov looked down at his own legs, occasionally glancing at the door\r
+of the adjoining hut as if expecting something unpleasant to emerge from\r
+it. And from that hut, while Denisov was speaking, a general with a\r
+portfolio under his arm really did appear.\r
+\r
+"What?" said Kutuzov, in the midst of Denisov's explanations, "are you\r
+ready so soon?"\r
+\r
+"Ready, your Serene Highness," replied the general.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov swayed his head, as much as to say: "How is one man to deal with\r
+it all?" and again listened to Denisov.\r
+\r
+"I give my word of honor as a Wussian officer," said Denisov, "that I\r
+can bweak Napoleon's line of communication!"\r
+\r
+"What relation are you to Intendant General Kiril Andreevich Denisov?"\r
+asked Kutuzov, interrupting him.\r
+\r
+"He is my uncle, your Sewene Highness."\r
+\r
+"Ah, we were friends," said Kutuzov cheerfully. "All right, all right,\r
+friend, stay here at the staff and tomorrow we'll have a talk."\r
+\r
+With a nod to Denisov he turned away and put out his hand for the papers\r
+Konovnitsyn had brought him.\r
+\r
+"Would not your Serene Highness like to come inside?" said the general\r
+on duty in a discontented voice, "the plans must be examined and several\r
+papers have to be signed."\r
+\r
+An adjutant came out and announced that everything was in readiness\r
+within. But Kutuzov evidently did not wish to enter that room till he\r
+was disengaged. He made a grimace...\r
+\r
+"No, tell them to bring a small table out here, my dear boy. I'll look\r
+at them here," said he. "Don't go away," he added, turning to Prince\r
+Andrew, who remained in the porch and listened to the general's report.\r
+\r
+While this was being given, Prince Andrew heard the whisper of a woman's\r
+voice and the rustle of a silk dress behind the door. Several times on\r
+glancing that way he noticed behind that door a plump, rosy, handsome\r
+woman in a pink dress with a lilac silk kerchief on her head, holding a\r
+dish and evidently awaiting the entrance of the commander-in-chief.\r
+Kutuzov's adjutant whispered to Prince Andrew that this was the wife of\r
+the priest whose home it was, and that she intended to offer his Serene\r
+Highness bread and salt. "Her husband has welcomed his Serene Highness\r
+with the cross at the church, and she intends to welcome him in the\r
+house.... She's very pretty," added the adjutant with a smile. At those\r
+words Kutuzov looked round. He was listening to the general's report--\r
+which consisted chiefly of a criticism of the position at Tsarevo-\r
+Zaymishche--as he had listened to Denisov, and seven years previously\r
+had listened to the discussion at the Austerlitz council of war. He\r
+evidently listened only because he had ears which, though there was a\r
+piece of tow in one of them, could not help hearing; but it was evident\r
+that nothing the general could say would surprise or even interest him,\r
+that he knew all that would be said beforehand, and heard it all only\r
+because he had to, as one has to listen to the chanting of a service of\r
+prayer. All that Denisov had said was clever and to the point. What the\r
+general was saying was even more clever and to the point, but it was\r
+evident that Kutuzov despised knowledge and cleverness, and knew of\r
+something else that would decide the matter--something independent of\r
+cleverness and knowledge. Prince Andrew watched the commander-in-chief's\r
+face attentively, and the only expression he could see there was one of\r
+boredom, curiosity as to the meaning of the feminine whispering behind\r
+the door, and a desire to observe propriety. It was evident that Kutuzov\r
+despised cleverness and learning and even the patriotic feeling shown by\r
+Denisov, but despised them not because of his own intellect, feelings,\r
+or knowledge--he did not try to display any of these--but because of\r
+something else. He despised them because of his old age and experience\r
+of life. The only instruction Kutuzov gave of his own accord during that\r
+report referred to looting by the Russian troops. At the end of the\r
+report the general put before him for signature a paper relating to the\r
+recovery of payment from army commanders for green oats mown down by the\r
+soldiers, when landowners lodged petitions for compensation.\r
+\r
+After hearing the matter, Kutuzov smacked his lips together and shook\r
+his head.\r
+\r
+"Into the stove... into the fire with it! I tell you once for all, my\r
+dear fellow," said he, "into the fire with all such things! Let them cut\r
+the crops and burn wood to their hearts' content. I don't order it or\r
+allow it, but I don't exact compensation either. One can't get on\r
+without it. 'When wood is chopped the chips will fly.'" He looked at the\r
+paper again. "Oh, this German precision!" he muttered, shaking his head.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVI\r
+\r
+"Well, that's all!" said Kutuzov as he signed the last of the documents,\r
+and rising heavily and smoothing out the folds in his fat white neck he\r
+moved toward the door with a more cheerful expression.\r
+\r
+The priest's wife, flushing rosy red, caught up the dish she had after\r
+all not managed to present at the right moment, though she had so long\r
+been preparing for it, and with a low bow offered it to Kutuzov.\r
+\r
+He screwed up his eyes, smiled, lifted her chin with his hand, and said:\r
+\r
+"Ah, what a beauty! Thank you, sweetheart!"\r
+\r
+He took some gold pieces from his trouser pocket and put them on the\r
+dish for her. "Well, my dear, and how are we getting on?" he asked,\r
+moving to the door of the room assigned to him. The priest's wife\r
+smiled, and with dimples in her rosy cheeks followed him into the room.\r
+The adjutant came out to the porch and asked Prince Andrew to lunch with\r
+him. Half an hour later Prince Andrew was again called to Kutuzov. He\r
+found him reclining in an armchair, still in the same unbuttoned\r
+overcoat. He had in his hand a French book which he closed as Prince\r
+Andrew entered, marking the place with a knife. Prince Andrew saw by the\r
+cover that it was Les Chevaliers du Cygne by Madame de Genlis.\r
+\r
+"Well, sit down, sit down here. Let's have a talk," said Kutuzov. "It's\r
+sad, very sad. But remember, my dear fellow, that I am a father to you,\r
+a second father...."\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew told Kutuzov all he knew of his father's death, and what\r
+he had seen at Bald Hills when he passed through it.\r
+\r
+"What... what they have brought us to!" Kutuzov suddenly cried in an\r
+agitated voice, evidently picturing vividly to himself from Prince\r
+Andrew's story the condition Russia was in. "But give me time, give me\r
+time!" he said with a grim look, evidently not wishing to continue this\r
+agitating conversation, and added: "I sent for you to keep you with me."\r
+\r
+"I thank your Serene Highness, but I fear I am no longer fit for the\r
+staff," replied Prince Andrew with a smile which Kutuzov noticed.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov glanced inquiringly at him.\r
+\r
+"But above all," added Prince Andrew, "I have grown used to my regiment,\r
+am fond of the officers, and I fancy the men also like me. I should be\r
+sorry to leave the regiment. If I decline the honor of being with you,\r
+believe me..."\r
+\r
+A shrewd, kindly, yet subtly derisive expression lit up Kutuzov's podgy\r
+face. He cut Bolkonski short.\r
+\r
+"I am sorry, for I need you. But you're right, you're right! It's not\r
+here that men are needed. Advisers are always plentiful, but men are\r
+not. The regiments would not be what they are if the would-be advisers\r
+served there as you do. I remember you at Austerlitz.... I remember,\r
+yes, I remember you with the standard!" said Kutuzov, and a flush of\r
+pleasure suffused Prince Andrew's face at this recollection.\r
+\r
+Taking his hand and drawing him downwards, Kutuzov offered his cheek to\r
+be kissed, and again Prince Andrew noticed tears in the old man's eyes.\r
+Though Prince Andrew knew that Kutuzov's tears came easily, and that he\r
+was particularly tender to and considerate of him from a wish to show\r
+sympathy with his loss, yet this reminder of Austerlitz was both\r
+pleasant and flattering to him.\r
+\r
+"Go your way and God be with you. I know your path is the path of\r
+honor!" He paused. "I missed you at Bucharest, but I needed someone to\r
+send." And changing the subject, Kutuzov began to speak of the Turkish\r
+war and the peace that had been concluded. "Yes, I have been much\r
+blamed," he said, "both for that war and the peace... but everything\r
+came at the right time. Tout vient a point a celui qui sait attendre. *\r
+And there were as many advisers there as here..." he went on, returning\r
+to the subject of "advisers" which evidently occupied him. "Ah, those\r
+advisers!" said he. "If we had listened to them all we should not have\r
+made peace with Turkey and should not have been through with that war.\r
+Everything in haste, but more haste, less speed. Kamenski would have\r
+been lost if he had not died. He stormed fortresses with thirty thousand\r
+men. It is not difficult to capture a fortress but it is difficult to\r
+win a campaign. For that, not storming and attacking but patience and\r
+time are wanted. Kamenski sent soldiers to Rustchuk, but I only employed\r
+these two things and took more fortresses than Kamenski and made them\r
+Turks eat horseflesh!" He swayed his head. "And the French shall too,\r
+believe me," he went on, growing warmer and beating his chest, "I'll\r
+make them eat horseflesh!" And tears again dimmed his eyes.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Everything comes in time to him who knows how to wait."\r
+\r
+"But shan't we have to accept battle?" remarked Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+"We shall if everybody wants it; it can't be helped.... But believe me,\r
+my dear boy, there is nothing stronger than those two: patience and\r
+time, they will do it all. But the advisers n'entendent pas de cette\r
+oreille, voila le mal. * Some want a thing--others don't. What's one to\r
+do?" he asked, evidently expecting an answer. "Well, what do you want us\r
+to do?" he repeated and his eye shone with a deep, shrewd look. "I'll\r
+tell you what to do," he continued, as Prince Andrew still did not\r
+reply: "I will tell you what to do, and what I do. Dans le doute, mon\r
+cher," he paused, "abstiens-toi" *(2)--he articulated the French proverb\r
+deliberately.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Don't see it that way, that's the trouble."\r
+\r
+* (2) "When in doubt, my dear fellow, do nothing."\r
+\r
+"Well, good-by, my dear fellow; remember that with all my heart I share\r
+your sorrow, and that for you I am not a Serene Highness, nor a prince,\r
+nor a commander-in-chief, but a father! If you want anything come\r
+straight to me. Good-bye, my dear boy."\r
+\r
+Again he embraced and kissed Prince Andrew, but before the latter had\r
+left the room Kutuzov gave a sigh of relief and went on with his\r
+unfinished novel, Les Chevaliers du Cygne by Madame de Genlis.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew could not have explained how or why it was, but after that\r
+interview with Kutuzov he went back to his regiment reassured as to the\r
+general course of affairs and as to the man to whom it had been\r
+entrusted. The more he realized the absence of all personal motive in\r
+that old man--in whom there seemed to remain only the habit of passions,\r
+and in place of an intellect (grouping events and drawing conclusions)\r
+only the capacity calmly to contemplate the course of events--the more\r
+reassured he was that everything would be as it should. "He will not\r
+bring in any plan of his own. He will not devise or undertake anything,"\r
+thought Prince Andrew, "but he will hear everything, remember\r
+everything, and put everything in its place. He will not hinder anything\r
+useful nor allow anything harmful. He understands that there is\r
+something stronger and more important than his own will--the inevitable\r
+course of events, and he can see them and grasp their significance, and\r
+seeing that significance can refrain from meddling and renounce his\r
+personal wish directed to something else. And above all," thought Prince\r
+Andrew, "one believes in him because he's Russian, despite the novel by\r
+Genlis and the French proverbs, and because his voice shook when he\r
+said: 'What they have brought us to!' and had a sob in it when he said\r
+he would 'make them eat horseflesh!'"\r
+\r
+On such feelings, more or less dimly shared by all, the unanimity and\r
+general approval were founded with which, despite court influences, the\r
+popular choice of Kutuzov as commander-in-chief was received.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVII\r
+\r
+After the Emperor had left Moscow, life flowed on there in its usual\r
+course, and its course was so very usual that it was difficult to\r
+remember the recent days of patriotic elation and ardor, hard to believe\r
+that Russia was really in danger and that the members of the English\r
+Club were also sons of the Fatherland ready to sacrifice everything for\r
+it. The one thing that recalled the patriotic fervor everyone had\r
+displayed during the Emperor's stay was the call for contributions of\r
+men and money, a necessity that as soon as the promises had been made\r
+assumed a legal, official form and became unavoidable.\r
+\r
+With the enemy's approach to Moscow, the Moscovites' view of their\r
+situation did not grow more serious but on the contrary became even more\r
+frivolous, as always happens with people who see a great danger\r
+approaching. At the approach of danger there are always two voices that\r
+speak with equal power in the human soul: one very reasonably tells a\r
+man to consider the nature of the danger and the means of escaping it;\r
+the other, still more reasonably, says that it is too depressing and\r
+painful to think of the danger, since it is not in man's power to\r
+foresee everything and avert the general course of events, and it is\r
+therefore better to disregard what is painful till it comes, and to\r
+think about what is pleasant. In solitude a man generally listens to the\r
+first voice, but in society to the second. So it was now with the\r
+inhabitants of Moscow. It was long since people had been as gay in\r
+Moscow as that year.\r
+\r
+Rostopchin's broadsheets, headed by woodcuts of a drink shop, a potman,\r
+and a Moscow burgher called Karpushka Chigirin, "who--having been a\r
+militiaman and having had rather too much at the pub--heard that\r
+Napoleon wished to come to Moscow, grew angry, abused the French in very\r
+bad language, came out of the drink shop, and, under the sign of the\r
+eagle, began to address the assembled people," were read and discussed,\r
+together with the latest of Vasili Lvovich Pushkin's bouts rimes.\r
+\r
+In the corner room at the club, members gathered to read these\r
+broadsheets, and some liked the way Karpushka jeered at the French,\r
+saying: "They will swell up with Russian cabbage, burst with our\r
+buckwheat porridge, and choke themselves with cabbage soup. They are all\r
+dwarfs and one peasant woman will toss three of them with a hayfork."\r
+Others did not like that tone and said it was stupid and vulgar. It was\r
+said that Rostopchin had expelled all Frenchmen and even all foreigners\r
+from Moscow, and that there had been some spies and agents of Napoleon\r
+among them; but this was told chiefly to introduce Rostopchin's witty\r
+remark on that occasion. The foreigners were deported to Nizhni by boat,\r
+and Rostopchin had said to them in French: "Rentrez en vousmemes; entrez\r
+dans la barque, et n'en faites pas une barque de Charon." * There was\r
+talk of all the government offices having been already removed from\r
+Moscow, and to this Shinshin's witticism was added--that for that alone\r
+Moscow ought to be grateful to Napoleon. It was said that Mamonov's\r
+regiment would cost him eight hundred thousand rubles, and that Bezukhov\r
+had spent even more on his, but that the best thing about Bezukhov's\r
+action was that he himself was going to don a uniform and ride at the\r
+head of his regiment without charging anything for the show.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Think it over; get into the barque, and take care not to make it a\r
+barque of Charon."\r
+\r
+"You don't spare anyone," said Julie Drubetskaya as she collected and\r
+pressed together a bunch of raveled lint with her thin, beringed\r
+fingers.\r
+\r
+Julie was preparing to leave Moscow next day and was giving a farewell\r
+soiree.\r
+\r
+"Bezukhov est ridicule, but he is so kind and good-natured. What\r
+pleasure is there to be so caustique?"\r
+\r
+"A forfeit!" cried a young man in militia uniform whom Julie called "mon\r
+chevalier," and who was going with her to Nizhni.\r
+\r
+In Julie's set, as in many other circles in Moscow, it had been agreed\r
+that they would speak nothing but Russian and that those who made a slip\r
+and spoke French should pay fines to the Committee of Voluntary\r
+Contributions.\r
+\r
+"Another forfeit for a Gallicism," said a Russian writer who was\r
+present. "'What pleasure is there to be' is not Russian!"\r
+\r
+"You spare no one," continued Julie to the young man without heeding the\r
+author's remark.\r
+\r
+"For caustique--I am guilty and will pay, and I am prepared to pay again\r
+for the pleasure of telling you the truth. For Gallicisms I won't be\r
+responsible," she remarked, turning to the author: "I have neither the\r
+money nor the time, like Prince Galitsyn, to engage a master to teach me\r
+Russian!"\r
+\r
+"Ah, here he is!" she added. "Quand on... No, no," she said to the\r
+militia officer, "you won't catch me. Speak of the sun and you see its\r
+rays!" and she smiled amiably at Pierre. "We were just talking of you,"\r
+she said with the facility in lying natural to a society woman. "We were\r
+saying that your regiment would be sure to be better than Mamonov's."\r
+\r
+"Oh, don't talk to me of my regiment," replied Pierre, kissing his\r
+hostess' hand and taking a seat beside her. "I am so sick of it."\r
+\r
+"You will, of course, command it yourself?" said Julie, directing a sly,\r
+sarcastic glance toward the militia officer.\r
+\r
+The latter in Pierre's presence had ceased to be caustic, and his face\r
+expressed perplexity as to what Julie's smile might mean. In spite of\r
+his absent-mindedness and good nature, Pierre's personality immediately\r
+checked any attempt to ridicule him to his face.\r
+\r
+"No," said Pierre, with a laughing glance at his big, stout body. "I\r
+should make too good a target for the French, besides I am afraid I\r
+should hardly be able to climb onto a horse."\r
+\r
+Among those whom Julie's guests happened to choose to gossip about were\r
+the Rostovs.\r
+\r
+"I hear that their affairs are in a very bad way," said Julie. "And he\r
+is so unreasonable, the count himself I mean. The Razumovskis wanted to\r
+buy his house and his estate near Moscow, but it drags on and on. He\r
+asks too much."\r
+\r
+"No, I think the sale will come off in a few days," said someone.\r
+"Though it is madness to buy anything in Moscow now."\r
+\r
+"Why?" asked Julie. "You don't think Moscow is in danger?"\r
+\r
+"Then why are you leaving?"\r
+\r
+"I? What a question! I am going because... well, because everyone is\r
+going: and besides--I am not Joan of Arc or an Amazon."\r
+\r
+"Well, of course, of course! Let me have some more strips of linen."\r
+\r
+"If he manages the business properly he will be able to pay off all his\r
+debts," said the militia officer, speaking of Rostov.\r
+\r
+"A kindly old man but not up to much. And why do they stay on so long in\r
+Moscow? They meant to leave for the country long ago. Natalie is quite\r
+well again now, isn't she?" Julie asked Pierre with a knowing smile.\r
+\r
+"They are waiting for their younger son," Pierre replied. "He joined\r
+Obolenski's Cossacks and went to Belaya Tserkov where the regiment is\r
+being formed. But now they have had him transferred to my regiment and\r
+are expecting him every day. The count wanted to leave long ago, but the\r
+countess won't on any account leave Moscow till her son returns."\r
+\r
+"I met them the day before yesterday at the Arkharovs'. Natalie has\r
+recovered her looks and is brighter. She sang a song. How easily some\r
+people get over everything!"\r
+\r
+"Get over what?" inquired Pierre, looking displeased.\r
+\r
+Julie smiled.\r
+\r
+"You know, Count, such knights as you are only found in Madame de\r
+Souza's novels."\r
+\r
+"What knights? What do you mean?" demanded Pierre, blushing.\r
+\r
+"Oh, come, my dear count! C'est la fable de tout Moscou. Je vous admire,\r
+ma parole d'honneur!" *\r
+\r
+\r
+* "It is the talk of all Moscow. My word, I admire you!"\r
+\r
+"Forfeit, forfeit!" cried the militia officer.\r
+\r
+"All right, one can't talk--how tiresome!"\r
+\r
+"What is 'the talk of all Moscow'?" Pierre asked angrily, rising to his\r
+feet.\r
+\r
+"Come now, Count, you know!"\r
+\r
+"I don't know anything about it," said Pierre.\r
+\r
+"I know you were friendly with Natalie, and so... but I was always more\r
+friendly with Vera--that dear Vera."\r
+\r
+"No, madame!" Pierre continued in a tone of displeasure, "I have not\r
+taken on myself the role of Natalie Rostova's knight at all, and have\r
+not been to their house for nearly a month. But I cannot understand the\r
+cruelty..."\r
+\r
+"Qui s'excuse s'accuse," * said Julie, smiling and waving the lint\r
+triumphantly, and to have the last word she promptly changed the\r
+subject. "Do you know what I heard today? Poor Mary Bolkonskaya arrived\r
+in Moscow yesterday. Do you know that she has lost her father?"\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Who excuses himself, accuses himself."\r
+\r
+"Really? Where is she? I should like very much to see her," said Pierre.\r
+\r
+"I spent the evening with her yesterday. She is going to their estate\r
+near Moscow either today or tomorrow morning, with her nephew."\r
+\r
+"Well, and how is she?" asked Pierre.\r
+\r
+"She is well, but sad. But do you know who rescued her? It is quite a\r
+romance. Nicholas Rostov! She was surrounded, and they wanted to kill\r
+her and had wounded some of her people. He rushed in and saved her...."\r
+\r
+"Another romance," said the militia officer. "Really, this general\r
+flight has been arranged to get all the old maids married off. Catiche\r
+is one and Princess Bolkonskaya another."\r
+\r
+"Do you know, I really believe she is un petit peu amoureuse du jeune\r
+homme." *\r
+\r
+\r
+* "A little bit in love with the young man."\r
+\r
+"Forfeit, forfeit, forfeit!"\r
+\r
+"But how could one say that in Russian?"\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVIII\r
+\r
+When Pierre returned home he was handed two of Rostopchin's broadsheets\r
+that had been brought that day.\r
+\r
+The first declared that the report that Count Rostopchin had forbidden\r
+people to leave Moscow was false; on the contrary he was glad that\r
+ladies and tradesmen's wives were leaving the city. "There will be less\r
+panic and less gossip," ran the broadsheet "but I will stake my life on\r
+it that scoundrel will not enter Moscow." These words showed Pierre\r
+clearly for the first time that the French would enter Moscow. The\r
+second broadsheet stated that our headquarters were at Vyazma, that\r
+Count Wittgenstein had defeated the French, but that as many of the\r
+inhabitants of Moscow wished to be armed, weapons were ready for them at\r
+the arsenal: sabers, pistols, and muskets which could be had at a low\r
+price. The tone of the proclamation was not as jocose as in the former\r
+Chigirin talks. Pierre pondered over these broadsheets. Evidently the\r
+terrible stormcloud he had desired with the whole strength of his soul\r
+but which yet aroused involuntary horror in him was drawing near.\r
+\r
+"Shall I join the army and enter the service, or wait?" he asked himself\r
+for the hundredth time. He took a pack of cards that lay on the table\r
+and began to lay them out for a game of patience.\r
+\r
+"If this patience comes out," he said to himself after shuffling the\r
+cards, holding them in his hand, and lifting his head, "if it comes out,\r
+it means... what does it mean?"\r
+\r
+He had not decided what it should mean when he heard the voice of the\r
+eldest princess at the door asking whether she might come in.\r
+\r
+"Then it will mean that I must go to the army," said Pierre to himself.\r
+"Come in, come in!" he added to the princess.\r
+\r
+Only the eldest princess, the one with the stony face and long waist,\r
+was still living in Pierre's house. The two younger ones had both\r
+married.\r
+\r
+"Excuse my coming to you, cousin," she said in a reproachful and\r
+agitated voice. "You know some decision must be come to. What is going\r
+to happen? Everyone has left Moscow and the people are rioting. How is\r
+it that we are staying on?"\r
+\r
+"On the contrary, things seem satisfactory, ma cousine," said Pierre in\r
+the bantering tone he habitually adopted toward her, always feeling\r
+uncomfortable in the role of her benefactor.\r
+\r
+"Satisfactory, indeed! Very satisfactory! Barbara Ivanovna told me today\r
+how our troops are distinguishing themselves. It certainly does them\r
+credit! And the people too are quite mutinous--they no longer obey, even\r
+my maid has taken to being rude. At this rate they will soon begin\r
+beating us. One can't walk in the streets. But, above all, the French\r
+will be here any day now, so what are we waiting for? I ask just one\r
+thing of you, cousin," she went on, "arrange for me to be taken to\r
+Petersburg. Whatever I may be, I can't live under Bonaparte's rule."\r
+\r
+"Oh, come, ma cousine! Where do you get your information from? On the\r
+contrary..."\r
+\r
+"I won't submit to your Napoleon! Others may if they please.... If you\r
+don't want to do this..."\r
+\r
+"But I will, I'll give the order at once."\r
+\r
+The princess was apparently vexed at not having anyone to be angry with.\r
+Muttering to herself, she sat down on a chair.\r
+\r
+"But you have been misinformed," said Pierre. "Everything is quiet in\r
+the city and there is not the slightest danger. See! I've just been\r
+reading..." He showed her the broadsheet. "Count Rostopchin writes that\r
+he will stake his life on it that the enemy will not enter Moscow."\r
+\r
+"Oh, that count of yours!" said the princess malevolently. "He is a\r
+hypocrite, a rascal who has himself roused the people to riot. Didn't he\r
+write in those idiotic broadsheets that anyone, 'whoever it might be,\r
+should be dragged to the lockup by his hair'? (How silly!) 'And honor\r
+and glory to whoever captures him,' he says. This is what his cajolery\r
+has brought us to! Barbara Ivanovna told me the mob near killed her\r
+because she said something in French."\r
+\r
+"Oh, but it's so... You take everything so to heart," said Pierre, and\r
+began laying out his cards for patience.\r
+\r
+Although that patience did come out, Pierre did not join the army, but\r
+remained in deserted Moscow ever in the same state of agitation,\r
+irresolution, and alarm, yet at the same time joyfully expecting\r
+something terrible.\r
+\r
+Next day toward evening the princess set off, and Pierre's head steward\r
+came to inform him that the money needed for the equipment of his\r
+regiment could not be found without selling one of the estates. In\r
+general the head steward made out to Pierre that his project of raising\r
+a regiment would ruin him. Pierre listened to him, scarcely able to\r
+repress a smile.\r
+\r
+"Well then, sell it," said he. "What's to be done? I can't draw back\r
+now!"\r
+\r
+The worse everything became, especially his own affairs, the better was\r
+Pierre pleased and the more evident was it that the catastrophe he\r
+expected was approaching. Hardly anyone he knew was left in town. Julie\r
+had gone, and so had Princess Mary. Of his intimate friends only the\r
+Rostovs remained, but he did not go to see them.\r
+\r
+To distract his thoughts he drove that day to the village of Vorontsovo\r
+to see the great balloon Leppich was constructing to destroy the foe,\r
+and a trial balloon that was to go up next day. The balloon was not yet\r
+ready, but Pierre learned that it was being constructed by the Emperor's\r
+desire. The Emperor had written to Count Rostopchin as follows:\r
+\r
+As soon as Leppich is ready, get together a crew of reliable and\r
+intelligent men for his car and send a courier to General Kutuzov to let\r
+him know. I have informed him of the matter.\r
+\r
+Please impress upon Leppich to be very careful where he descends for the\r
+first time, that he may not make a mistake and fall into the enemy's\r
+hands. It is essential for him to combine his movements with those of\r
+the commander-in-chief.\r
+\r
+On his way home from Vorontsovo, as he was passing the Bolotnoe Place\r
+Pierre, seeing a large crowd round the Lobnoe Place, stopped and got out\r
+of his trap. A French cook accused of being a spy was being flogged. The\r
+flogging was only just over, and the executioner was releasing from the\r
+flogging bench a stout man with red whiskers, in blue stockings and a\r
+green jacket, who was moaning piteously. Another criminal, thin and\r
+pale, stood near. Judging by their faces they were both Frenchmen. With\r
+a frightened and suffering look resembling that on the thin Frenchman's\r
+face, Pierre pushed his way in through the crowd.\r
+\r
+"What is it? Who is it? What is it for?" he kept asking.\r
+\r
+But the attention of the crowd--officials, burghers, shopkeepers,\r
+peasants, and women in cloaks and in pelisses--was so eagerly centered\r
+on what was passing in Lobnoe Place that no one answered him. The stout\r
+man rose, frowned, shrugged his shoulders, and evidently trying to\r
+appear firm began to pull on his jacket without looking about him, but\r
+suddenly his lips trembled and he began to cry, in the way full-blooded\r
+grown-up men cry, though angry with himself for doing so. In the crowd\r
+people began talking loudly, to stifle their feelings of pity as it\r
+seemed to Pierre.\r
+\r
+"He's cook to some prince."\r
+\r
+"Eh, mounseer, Russian sauce seems to be sour to a Frenchman... sets his\r
+teeth on edge!" said a wrinkled clerk who was standing behind Pierre,\r
+when the Frenchman began to cry.\r
+\r
+The clerk glanced round, evidently hoping that his joke would be\r
+appreciated. Some people began to laugh, others continued to watch in\r
+dismay the executioner who was undressing the other man.\r
+\r
+Pierre choked, his face puckered, and he turned hastily away, went back\r
+to his trap muttering something to himself as he went, and took his\r
+seat. As they drove along he shuddered and exclaimed several times so\r
+audibly that the coachman asked him:\r
+\r
+"What is your pleasure?"\r
+\r
+"Where are you going?" shouted Pierre to the man, who was driving to\r
+Lubyanka Street.\r
+\r
+"To the Governor's, as you ordered," answered the coachman.\r
+\r
+"Fool! Idiot!" shouted Pierre, abusing his coachman--a thing he rarely\r
+did. "Home, I told you! And drive faster, blockhead!" "I must get away\r
+this very day," he murmured to himself.\r
+\r
+At the sight of the tortured Frenchman and the crowd surrounding the\r
+Lobnoe Place, Pierre had so definitely made up his mind that he could no\r
+longer remain in Moscow and would leave for the army that very day that\r
+it seemed to him that either he had told the coachman this or that the\r
+man ought to have known it for himself.\r
+\r
+On reaching home Pierre gave orders to Evstafey--his head coachman who\r
+knew everything, could do anything, and was known to all Moscow--that he\r
+would leave that night for the army at Mozhaysk, and that his saddle\r
+horses should be sent there. This could not all be arranged that day, so\r
+on Evstafey's representation Pierre had to put off his departure till\r
+next day to allow time for the relay horses to be sent on in advance.\r
+\r
+On the twenty-fourth the weather cleared up after a spell of rain, and\r
+after dinner Pierre left Moscow. When changing horses that night in\r
+Perkhushkovo, he learned that there had been a great battle that\r
+evening. (This was the battle of Shevardino.) He was told that there in\r
+Perkhushkovo the earth trembled from the firing, but nobody could answer\r
+his questions as to who had won. At dawn next day Pierre was approaching\r
+Mozhaysk.\r
+\r
+Every house in Mozhaysk had soldiers quartered in it, and at the hostel\r
+where Pierre was met by his groom and coachman there was no room to be\r
+had. It was full of officers.\r
+\r
+Everywhere in Mozhaysk and beyond it, troops were stationed or on the\r
+march. Cossacks, foot and horse soldiers, wagons, caissons, and cannon\r
+were everywhere. Pierre pushed forward as fast as he could, and the\r
+farther he left Moscow behind and the deeper he plunged into that sea of\r
+troops the more was he overcome by restless agitation and a new and\r
+joyful feeling he had not experienced before. It was a feeling akin to\r
+what he had felt at the Sloboda Palace during the Emperor's visit--a\r
+sense of the necessity of undertaking something and sacrificing\r
+something. He now experienced a glad consciousness that everything that\r
+constitutes men's happiness--the comforts of life, wealth, even life\r
+itself--is rubbish it is pleasant to throw away, compared with\r
+something... With what? Pierre could not say, and he did not try to\r
+determine for whom and for what he felt such particular delight in\r
+sacrificing everything. He was not occupied with the question of what to\r
+sacrifice for; the fact of sacrificing in itself afforded him a new and\r
+joyous sensation.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIX\r
+\r
+On the twenty-fourth of August the battle of the Shevardino Redoubt was\r
+fought, on the twenty-fifth not a shot was fired by either side, and on\r
+the twenty-sixth the battle of Borodino itself took place.\r
+\r
+Why and how were the battles of Shevardino and Borodino given and\r
+accepted? Why was the battle of Borodino fought? There was not the least\r
+sense in it for either the French or the Russians. Its immediate result\r
+for the Russians was, and was bound to be, that we were brought nearer\r
+to the destruction of Moscow--which we feared more than anything in the\r
+world; and for the French its immediate result was that they were\r
+brought nearer to the destruction of their whole army--which they feared\r
+more than anything in the world. What the result must be was quite\r
+obvious, and yet Napoleon offered and Kutuzov accepted that battle.\r
+\r
+If the commanders had been guided by reason, it would seem that it must\r
+have been obvious to Napoleon that by advancing thirteen hundred miles\r
+and giving battle with a probability of losing a quarter of his army, he\r
+was advancing to certain destruction, and it must have been equally\r
+clear to Kutuzov that by accepting battle and risking the loss of a\r
+quarter of his army he would certainly lose Moscow. For Kutuzov this was\r
+mathematically clear, as it is that if when playing draughts I have one\r
+man less and go on exchanging, I shall certainly lose, and therefore\r
+should not exchange. When my opponent has sixteen men and I have\r
+fourteen, I am only one eighth weaker than he, but when I have exchanged\r
+thirteen more men he will be three times as strong as I am.\r
+\r
+Before the battle of Borodino our strength in proportion to the French\r
+was about as five to six, but after that battle it was little more than\r
+one to two: previously we had a hundred thousand against a hundred and\r
+twenty thousand; afterwards little more than fifty thousand against a\r
+hundred thousand. Yet the shrewd and experienced Kutuzov accepted the\r
+battle, while Napoleon, who was said to be a commander of genius, gave\r
+it, losing a quarter of his army and lengthening his lines of\r
+communication still more. If it is said that he expected to end the\r
+campaign by occupying Moscow as he had ended a previous campaign by\r
+occupying Vienna, there is much evidence to the contrary. Napoleon's\r
+historians themselves tell us that from Smolensk onwards he wished to\r
+stop, knew the danger of his extended position, and knew that the\r
+occupation of Moscow would not be the end of the campaign, for he had\r
+seen at Smolensk the state in which Russian towns were left to him, and\r
+had not received a single reply to his repeated announcements of his\r
+wish to negotiate.\r
+\r
+In giving and accepting battle at Borodino, Kutuzov acted involuntarily\r
+and irrationally. But later on, to fit what had occurred, the historians\r
+provided cunningly devised evidence of the foresight and genius of the\r
+generals who, of all the blind tools of history were the most enslaved\r
+and involuntary.\r
+\r
+The ancients have left us model heroic poems in which the heroes furnish\r
+the whole interest of the story, and we are still unable to accustom\r
+ourselves to the fact that for our epoch histories of that kind are\r
+meaningless.\r
+\r
+On the other question, how the battle of Borodino and the preceding\r
+battle of Shevardino were fought, there also exists a definite and well-\r
+known, but quite false, conception. All the historians describe the\r
+affair as follows:\r
+\r
+The Russian army, they say, in its retreat from Smolensk sought out for\r
+itself the best position for a general engagement and found such a\r
+position at Borodino.\r
+\r
+The Russians, they say, fortified this position in advance on the left\r
+of the highroad (from Moscow to Smolensk) and almost at a right angle to\r
+it, from Borodino to Utitsa, at the very place where the battle was\r
+fought.\r
+\r
+In front of this position, they say, a fortified outpost was set up on\r
+the Shevardino mound to observe the enemy. On the twenty-fourth, we are\r
+told, Napoleon attacked this advanced post and took it, and, on the\r
+twenty-sixth, attacked the whole Russian army, which was in position on\r
+the field of Borodino.\r
+\r
+So the histories say, and it is all quite wrong, as anyone who cares to\r
+look into the matter can easily convince himself.\r
+\r
+The Russians did not seek out the best position but, on the contrary,\r
+during the retreat passed many positions better than Borodino. They did\r
+not stop at any one of these positions because Kutuzov did not wish to\r
+occupy a position he had not himself chosen, because the popular demand\r
+for a battle had not yet expressed itself strongly enough, and because\r
+Miloradovich had not yet arrived with the militia, and for many other\r
+reasons. The fact is that other positions they had passed were stronger,\r
+and that the position at Borodino (the one where the battle was fought),\r
+far from being strong, was no more a position than any other spot one\r
+might find in the Russian Empire by sticking a pin into the map at\r
+hazard.\r
+\r
+Not only did the Russians not fortify the position on the field of\r
+Borodino to the left of, and at a right angle to, the highroad (that is,\r
+the position on which the battle took place), but never till the twenty-\r
+fifth of August, 1812, did they think that a battle might be fought\r
+there. This was shown first by the fact that there were no entrenchments\r
+there by the twenty fifth and that those begun on the twenty-fifth and\r
+twenty-sixth were not completed, and secondly, by the position of the\r
+Shevardino Redoubt. That redoubt was quite senseless in front of the\r
+position where the battle was accepted. Why was it more strongly\r
+fortified than any other post? And why were all efforts exhausted and\r
+six thousand men sacrificed to defend it till late at night on the\r
+twenty-fourth? A Cossack patrol would have sufficed to observe the\r
+enemy. Thirdly, as proof that the position on which the battle was\r
+fought had not been foreseen and that the Shevardino Redoubt was not an\r
+advanced post of that position, we have the fact that up to the twenty-\r
+fifth, Barclay de Tolly and Bagration were convinced that the Shevardino\r
+Redoubt was the left flank of the position, and that Kutuzov himself in\r
+his report, written in hot haste after the battle, speaks of the\r
+Shevardino Redoubt as the left flank of the position. It was much later,\r
+when reports on the battle of Borodino were written at leisure, that the\r
+incorrect and extraordinary statement was invented (probably to justify\r
+the mistakes of a commander-in-chief who had to be represented as\r
+infallible) that the Shevardino Redoubt was an advanced post--whereas in\r
+reality it was simply a fortified point on the left flank--and that the\r
+battle of Borodino was fought by us on an entrenched position previously\r
+selected, where as it was fought on a quite unexpected spot which was\r
+almost unentrenched.\r
+\r
+The case was evidently this: a position was selected along the river\r
+Kolocha--which crosses the highroad not at a right angle but at an acute\r
+angle--so that the left flank was at Shevardino, the right flank near\r
+the village of Novoe, and the center at Borodino at the confluence of\r
+the rivers Kolocha and Voyna.\r
+\r
+To anyone who looks at the field of Borodino without thinking of how the\r
+battle was actually fought, this position, protected by the river\r
+Kolocha, presents itself as obvious for an army whose object was to\r
+prevent an enemy from advancing along the Smolensk road to Moscow.\r
+\r
+Napoleon, riding to Valuevo on the twenty-fourth, did not see (as the\r
+history books say he did) the position of the Russians from Utitsa to\r
+Borodino (he could not have seen that position because it did not\r
+exist), nor did he see an advanced post of the Russian army, but while\r
+pursuing the Russian rearguard he came upon the left flank of the\r
+Russian position--at the Shevardino Redoubt--and unexpectedly for the\r
+Russians moved his army across the Kolocha. And the Russians, not having\r
+time to begin a general engagement, withdrew their left wing from the\r
+position they had intended to occupy and took up a new position which\r
+had not been foreseen and was not fortified. By crossing to the other\r
+side of the Kolocha to the left of the highroad, Napoleon shifted the\r
+whole forthcoming battle from right to left (looking from the Russian\r
+side) and transferred it to the plain between Utitsa, Semenovsk, and\r
+Borodino--a plain no more advantageous as a position than any other\r
+plain in Russia--and there the whole battle of the twenty-sixth of\r
+August took place.\r
+\r
+Had Napoleon not ridden out on the evening of the twenty-fourth to the\r
+Kolocha, and had he not then ordered an immediate attack on the redoubt\r
+but had begun the attack next morning, no one would have doubted that\r
+the Shevardino Redoubt was the left flank of our position, and the\r
+battle would have taken place where we expected it. In that case we\r
+should probably have defended the Shevardino Redoubt--our left flank--\r
+still more obstinately. We should have attacked Napoleon in the center\r
+or on the right, and the engagement would have taken place on the\r
+twenty-fifth, in the position we intended and had fortified. But as the\r
+attack on our left flank took place in the evening after the retreat of\r
+our rear guard (that is, immediately after the fight at Gridneva), and\r
+as the Russian commanders did not wish, or were not in time, to begin a\r
+general engagement then on the evening of the twenty-fourth, the first\r
+and chief action of the battle of Borodino was already lost on the\r
+twenty-fourth, and obviously led to the loss of the one fought on the\r
+twenty-sixth.\r
+\r
+After the loss of the Shevardino Redoubt, we found ourselves on the\r
+morning of the twenty-fifth without a position for our left flank, and\r
+were forced to bend it back and hastily entrench it where it chanced to\r
+be.\r
+\r
+Not only was the Russian army on the twenty-sixth defended by weak,\r
+unfinished entrenchments, but the disadvantage of that position was\r
+increased by the fact that the Russian commanders--not having fully\r
+realized what had happened, namely the loss of our position on the left\r
+flank and the shifting of the whole field of the forthcoming battle from\r
+right to left--maintained their extended position from the village of\r
+Novoe to Utitsa, and consequently had to move their forces from right to\r
+left during the battle. So it happened that throughout the whole battle\r
+the Russians opposed the entire French army launched against our left\r
+flank with but half as many men. (Poniatowski's action against Utitsa,\r
+and Uvarov's on the right flank against the French, were actions\r
+distinct from the main course of the battle.) So the battle of Borodino\r
+did not take place at all as (in an effort to conceal our commanders'\r
+mistakes even at the cost of diminishing the glory due to the Russian\r
+army and people) it has been described. The battle of Borodino was not\r
+fought on a chosen and entrenched position with forces only slightly\r
+weaker than those of the enemy, but, as a result of the loss of the\r
+Shevardino Redoubt, the Russians fought the battle of Borodino on an\r
+open and almost unentrenched position, with forces only half as numerous\r
+as the French; that is to say, under conditions in which it was not\r
+merely unthinkable to fight for ten hours and secure an indecisive\r
+result, but unthinkable to keep an army even from complete\r
+disintegration and flight.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XX\r
+\r
+On the morning of the twenty-fifth Pierre was leaving Mozhaysk. At the\r
+descent of the high steep hill, down which a winding road led out of the\r
+town past the cathedral on the right, where a service was being held and\r
+the bells were ringing, Pierre got out of his vehicle and proceeded on\r
+foot. Behind him a cavalry regiment was coming down the hill preceded by\r
+its singers. Coming up toward him was a train of carts carrying men who\r
+had been wounded in the engagement the day before. The peasant drivers,\r
+shouting and lashing their horses, kept crossing from side to side. The\r
+carts, in each of which three or four wounded soldiers were lying or\r
+sitting, jolted over the stones that had been thrown on the steep\r
+incline to make it something like a road. The wounded, bandaged with\r
+rags, with pale cheeks, compressed lips, and knitted brows, held on to\r
+the sides of the carts as they were jolted against one another. Almost\r
+all of them stared with naive, childlike curiosity at Pierre's white hat\r
+and green swallow-tail coat.\r
+\r
+Pierre's coachman shouted angrily at the convoy of wounded to keep to\r
+one side of the road. The cavalry regiment, as it descended the hill\r
+with its singers, surrounded Pierre's carriage and blocked the road.\r
+Pierre stopped, being pressed against the side of the cutting in which\r
+the road ran. The sunshine from behind the hill did not penetrate into\r
+the cutting and there it was cold and damp, but above Pierre's head was\r
+the bright August sunshine and the bells sounded merrily. One of the\r
+carts with wounded stopped by the side of the road close to Pierre. The\r
+driver in his bast shoes ran panting up to it, placed a stone under one\r
+of its tireless hind wheels, and began arranging the breech-band on his\r
+little horse.\r
+\r
+One of the wounded, an old soldier with a bandaged arm who was following\r
+the cart on foot, caught hold of it with his sound hand and turned to\r
+look at Pierre.\r
+\r
+"I say, fellow countryman! Will they set us down here or take us on to\r
+Moscow?" he asked.\r
+\r
+Pierre was so deep in thought that he did not hear the question. He was\r
+looking now at the cavalry regiment that had met the convoy of wounded,\r
+now at the cart by which he was standing, in which two wounded men were\r
+sitting and one was lying. One of those sitting up in the cart had\r
+probably been wounded in the cheek. His whole head was wrapped in rags\r
+and one cheek was swollen to the size of a baby's head. His nose and\r
+mouth were twisted to one side. This soldier was looking at the\r
+cathedral and crossing himself. Another, a young lad, a fair-haired\r
+recruit as white as though there was no blood in his thin face, looked\r
+at Pierre kindly, with a fixed smile. The third lay prone so that his\r
+face was not visible. The cavalry singers were passing close by:\r
+\r
+\r
+Ah lost, quite lost... is my head so keen, Living in a foreign land.\r
+\r
+they sang their soldiers' dance song.\r
+\r
+As if responding to them but with a different sort of merriment, the\r
+metallic sound of the bells reverberated high above and the hot rays of\r
+the sun bathed the top of the opposite slope with yet another sort of\r
+merriment. But beneath the slope, by the cart with the wounded near the\r
+panting little nag where Pierre stood, it was damp, somber, and sad.\r
+\r
+The soldier with the swollen cheek looked angrily at the cavalry\r
+singers.\r
+\r
+"Oh, the coxcombs!" he muttered reproachfully.\r
+\r
+"It's not the soldiers only, but I've seen peasants today, too.... The\r
+peasants--even they have to go," said the soldier behind the cart,\r
+addressing Pierre with a sad smile. "No distinctions made nowadays....\r
+They want the whole nation to fall on them--in a word, it's Moscow! They\r
+want to make an end of it."\r
+\r
+In spite of the obscurity of the soldier's words Pierre understood what\r
+he wanted to say and nodded approval.\r
+\r
+The road was clear again; Pierre descended the hill and drove on.\r
+\r
+He kept looking to either side of the road for familiar faces, but only\r
+saw everywhere the unfamiliar faces of various military men of different\r
+branches of the service, who all looked with astonishment at his white\r
+hat and green tail coat.\r
+\r
+Having gone nearly three miles he at last met an acquaintance and\r
+eagerly addressed him. This was one of the head army doctors. He was\r
+driving toward Pierre in a covered gig, sitting beside a young surgeon,\r
+and on recognizing Pierre he told the Cossack who occupied the driver's\r
+seat to pull up.\r
+\r
+"Count! Your excellency, how come you to be here?" asked the doctor.\r
+\r
+"Well, you know, I wanted to see..."\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes, there will be something to see...."\r
+\r
+Pierre got out and talked to the doctor, explaining his intention of\r
+taking part in a battle.\r
+\r
+The doctor advised him to apply direct to Kutuzov.\r
+\r
+"Why should you be God knows where out of sight, during the battle?" he\r
+said, exchanging glances with his young companion. "Anyhow his Serene\r
+Highness knows you and will receive you graciously. That's what you must\r
+do."\r
+\r
+The doctor seemed tired and in a hurry.\r
+\r
+"You think so?... Ah, I also wanted to ask you where our position is\r
+exactly?" said Pierre.\r
+\r
+"The position?" repeated the doctor. "Well, that's not my line. Drive\r
+past Tatarinova, a lot of digging is going on there. Go up the hillock\r
+and you'll see."\r
+\r
+"Can one see from there?... If you would..."\r
+\r
+But the doctor interrupted him and moved toward his gig.\r
+\r
+"I would go with you but on my honor I'm up to here"--and he pointed to\r
+his throat. "I'm galloping to the commander of the corps. How do matters\r
+stand?... You know, Count, there'll be a battle tomorrow. Out of an army\r
+of a hundred thousand we must expect at least twenty thousand wounded,\r
+and we haven't stretchers, or bunks, or dressers, or doctors enough for\r
+six thousand. We have ten thousand carts, but we need other things as\r
+well--we must manage as best we can!"\r
+\r
+The strange thought that of the thousands of men, young and old, who had\r
+stared with merry surprise at his hat (perhaps the very men he had\r
+noticed), twenty thousand were inevitably doomed to wounds and death\r
+amazed Pierre.\r
+\r
+"They may die tomorrow; why are they thinking of anything but death?"\r
+And by some latent sequence of thought the descent of the Mozhaysk hill,\r
+the carts with the wounded, the ringing bells, the slanting rays of the\r
+sun, and the songs of the cavalrymen vividly recurred to his mind.\r
+\r
+"The cavalry ride to battle and meet the wounded and do not for a moment\r
+think of what awaits them, but pass by, winking at the wounded. Yet from\r
+among these men twenty thousand are doomed to die, and they wonder at my\r
+hat! Strange!" thought Pierre, continuing his way to Tatarinova.\r
+\r
+In front of a landowner's house to the left of the road stood carriages,\r
+wagons, and crowds of orderlies and sentinels. The commander-in-chief\r
+was putting up there, but just when Pierre arrived he was not in and\r
+hardly any of the staff were there--they had gone to the church service.\r
+Pierre drove on toward Gorki.\r
+\r
+When he had ascended the hill and reached the little village street, he\r
+saw for the first time peasant militiamen in their white shirts and with\r
+crosses on their caps, who, talking and laughing loudly, animated and\r
+perspiring, were at work on a huge knoll overgrown with grass to the\r
+right of the road.\r
+\r
+Some of them were digging, others were wheeling barrowloads of earth\r
+along planks, while others stood about doing nothing.\r
+\r
+Two officers were standing on the knoll, directing the men. On seeing\r
+these peasants, who were evidently still amused by the novelty of their\r
+position as soldiers, Pierre once more thought of the wounded men at\r
+Mozhaysk and understood what the soldier had meant when he said: "They\r
+want the whole nation to fall on them." The sight of these bearded\r
+peasants at work on the battlefield, with their queer, clumsy boots and\r
+perspiring necks, and their shirts opening from the left toward the\r
+middle, unfastened, exposing their sunburned collarbones, impressed\r
+Pierre more strongly with the solemnity and importance of the moment\r
+than anything he had yet seen or heard.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXI\r
+\r
+Pierre stepped out of his carriage and, passing the toiling militiamen,\r
+ascended the knoll from which, according to the doctor, the battlefield\r
+could be seen.\r
+\r
+It was about eleven o'clock. The sun shone somewhat to the left and\r
+behind him and brightly lit up the enormous panorama which, rising like\r
+an amphitheater, extended before him in the clear rarefied atmosphere.\r
+\r
+From above on the left, bisecting that amphitheater, wound the Smolensk\r
+highroad, passing through a village with a white church some five\r
+hundred paces in front of the knoll and below it. This was Borodino.\r
+Below the village the road crossed the river by a bridge and, winding\r
+down and up, rose higher and higher to the village of Valuevo visible\r
+about four miles away, where Napoleon was then stationed. Beyond Valuevo\r
+the road disappeared into a yellowing forest on the horizon. Far in the\r
+distance in that birch and fir forest to the right of the road, the\r
+cross and belfry of the Kolocha Monastery gleamed in the sun. Here and\r
+there over the whole of that blue expanse, to right and left of the\r
+forest and the road, smoking campfires could be seen and indefinite\r
+masses of troops--ours and the enemy's. The ground to the right--along\r
+the course of the Kolocha and Moskva rivers--was broken and hilly.\r
+Between the hollows the villages of Bezubova and Zakharino showed in the\r
+distance. On the left the ground was more level; there were fields of\r
+grain, and the smoking ruins of Semenovsk, which had been burned down,\r
+could be seen.\r
+\r
+All that Pierre saw was so indefinite that neither the left nor the\r
+right side of the field fully satisfied his expectations. Nowhere could\r
+he see the battlefield he had expected to find, but only fields,\r
+meadows, troops, woods, the smoke of campfires, villages, mounds, and\r
+streams; and try as he would he could descry no military "position" in\r
+this place which teemed with life, nor could he even distinguish our\r
+troops from the enemy's.\r
+\r
+"I must ask someone who knows," he thought, and addressed an officer who\r
+was looking with curiosity at his huge unmilitary figure.\r
+\r
+"May I ask you," said Pierre, "what village that is in front?"\r
+\r
+"Burdino, isn't it?" said the officer, turning to his companion.\r
+\r
+"Borodino," the other corrected him.\r
+\r
+The officer, evidently glad of an opportunity for a talk, moved up to\r
+Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Are those our men there?" Pierre inquired.\r
+\r
+"Yes, and there, further on, are the French," said the officer. "There\r
+they are, there... you can see them."\r
+\r
+"Where? Where?" asked Pierre.\r
+\r
+"One can see them with the naked eye... Why, there!"\r
+\r
+The officer pointed with his hand to the smoke visible on the left\r
+beyond the river, and the same stern and serious expression that Pierre\r
+had noticed on many of the faces he had met came into his face.\r
+\r
+"Ah, those are the French! And over there?..." Pierre pointed to a knoll\r
+on the left, near which some troops could be seen.\r
+\r
+"Those are ours."\r
+\r
+"Ah, ours! And there?..." Pierre pointed to another knoll in the\r
+distance with a big tree on it, near a village that lay in a hollow\r
+where also some campfires were smoking and something black was visible.\r
+\r
+"That's his again," said the officer. (It was the Shevardino Redoubt.)\r
+"It was ours yesterday, but now it is his."\r
+\r
+"Then how about our position?"\r
+\r
+"Our position?" replied the officer with a smile of satisfaction. "I can\r
+tell you quite clearly, because I constructed nearly all our\r
+entrenchments. There, you see? There's our center, at Borodino, just\r
+there," and he pointed to the village in front of them with the white\r
+church. "That's where one crosses the Kolocha. You see down there where\r
+the rows of hay are lying in the hollow, there's the bridge. That's our\r
+center. Our right flank is over there"--he pointed sharply to the right,\r
+far away in the broken ground--"That's where the Moskva River is, and we\r
+have thrown up three redoubts there, very strong ones. The left\r
+flank..." here the officer paused. "Well, you see, that's difficult to\r
+explain.... Yesterday our left flank was there at Shevardino, you see,\r
+where the oak is, but now we have withdrawn our left wing--now it is\r
+over there, do you see that village and the smoke? That's Semenovsk,\r
+yes, there," he pointed to Raevski's knoll. "But the battle will hardly\r
+be there. His having moved his troops there is only a ruse; he will\r
+probably pass round to the right of the Moskva. But wherever it may be,\r
+many a man will be missing tomorrow!" he remarked.\r
+\r
+An elderly sergeant who had approached the officer while he was giving\r
+these explanations had waited in silence for him to finish speaking, but\r
+at this point, evidently not liking the officer's remark, interrupted\r
+him.\r
+\r
+"Gabions must be sent for," said he sternly.\r
+\r
+The officer appeared abashed, as though he understood that one might\r
+think of how many men would be missing tomorrow but ought not to speak\r
+of it.\r
+\r
+"Well, send number three company again," the officer replied hurriedly.\r
+\r
+"And you, are you one of the doctors?"\r
+\r
+"No, I've come on my own," answered Pierre, and he went down the hill\r
+again, passing the militiamen.\r
+\r
+"Oh, those damned fellows!" muttered the officer who followed him,\r
+holding his nose as he ran past the men at work.\r
+\r
+"There they are... bringing her, coming... There they are... They'll be\r
+here in a minute..." voices were suddenly heard saying; and officers,\r
+soldiers, and militiamen began running forward along the road.\r
+\r
+A church procession was coming up the hill from Borodino. First along\r
+the dusty road came the infantry in ranks, bareheaded and with arms\r
+reversed. From behind them came the sound of church singing.\r
+\r
+Soldiers and militiamen ran bareheaded past Pierre toward the\r
+procession.\r
+\r
+"They are bringing her, our Protectress!... The Iberian Mother of God!"\r
+someone cried.\r
+\r
+"The Smolensk Mother of God," another corrected him.\r
+\r
+The militiamen, both those who had been in the village and those who had\r
+been at work on the battery, threw down their spades and ran to meet the\r
+church procession. Following the battalion that marched along the dusty\r
+road came priests in their vestments--one little old man in a hood with\r
+attendants and singers. Behind them soldiers and officers bore a large,\r
+dark-faced icon with an embossed metal cover. This was the icon that had\r
+been brought from Smolensk and had since accompanied the army. Behind,\r
+before, and on both sides, crowds of militiamen with bared heads walked,\r
+ran, and bowed to the ground.\r
+\r
+At the summit of the hill they stopped with the icon; the men who had\r
+been holding it up by the linen bands attached to it were relieved by\r
+others, the chanters relit their censers, and service began. The hot\r
+rays of the sun beat down vertically and a fresh soft wind played with\r
+the hair of the bared heads and with the ribbons decorating the icon.\r
+The singing did not sound loud under the open sky. An immense crowd of\r
+bareheaded officers, soldiers, and militiamen surrounded the icon.\r
+Behind the priest and a chanter stood the notabilities on a spot\r
+reserved for them. A bald general with a St. George's Cross on his neck\r
+stood just behind the priest's back, and without crossing himself (he\r
+was evidently a German) patiently awaited the end of the service, which\r
+he considered it necessary to hear to the end, probably to arouse the\r
+patriotism of the Russian people. Another general stood in a martial\r
+pose, crossing himself by shaking his hand in front of his chest while\r
+looking about him. Standing among the crowd of peasants, Pierre\r
+recognized several acquaintances among these notables, but did not look\r
+at them--his whole attention was absorbed in watching the serious\r
+expression on the faces of the crowd of soldiers and militiamen who were\r
+all gazing eagerly at the icon. As soon as the tired chanters, who were\r
+singing the service for the twentieth time that day, began lazily and\r
+mechanically to sing: "Save from calamity Thy servants, O Mother of\r
+God," and the priest and deacon chimed in: "For to Thee under God we all\r
+flee as to an inviolable bulwark and protection," there again kindled in\r
+all those faces the same expression of consciousness of the solemnity of\r
+the impending moment that Pierre had seen on the faces at the foot of\r
+the hill at Mozhaysk and momentarily on many and many faces he had met\r
+that morning; and heads were bowed more frequently and hair tossed back,\r
+and sighs and the sound men made as they crossed themselves were heard.\r
+\r
+The crowd round the icon suddenly parted and pressed against Pierre.\r
+Someone, a very important personage judging by the haste with which way\r
+was made for him, was approaching the icon.\r
+\r
+It was Kutuzov, who had been riding round the position and on his way\r
+back to Tatarinova had stopped where the service was being held. Pierre\r
+recognized him at once by his peculiar figure, which distinguished him\r
+from everybody else.\r
+\r
+With a long overcoat on his exceedingly stout, round-shouldered body,\r
+with uncovered white head and puffy face showing the white ball of the\r
+eye he had lost, Kutuzov walked with plunging, swaying gait into the\r
+crowd and stopped behind the priest. He crossed himself with an\r
+accustomed movement, bent till he touched the ground with his hand, and\r
+bowed his white head with a deep sigh. Behind Kutuzov was Bennigsen and\r
+the suite. Despite the presence of the commander-in-chief, who attracted\r
+the attention of all the superior officers, the militiamen and soldiers\r
+continued their prayers without looking at him.\r
+\r
+When the service was over, Kutuzov stepped up to the icon, sank heavily\r
+to his knees, bowed to the ground, and for a long time tried vainly to\r
+rise, but could not do so on account of his weakness and weight. His\r
+white head twitched with the effort. At last he rose, kissed the icon as\r
+a child does with naively pouting lips, and again bowed till he touched\r
+the ground with his hand. The other generals followed his example, then\r
+the officers, and after them with excited faces, pressing on one\r
+another, crowding, panting, and pushing, scrambled the soldiers and\r
+militiamen.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXII\r
+\r
+Staggering amid the crush, Pierre looked about him.\r
+\r
+"Count Peter Kirilovich! How did you get here?" said a voice.\r
+\r
+Pierre looked round. Boris Drubetskoy, brushing his knees with his hand\r
+(he had probably soiled them when he, too, had knelt before the icon),\r
+came up to him smiling. Boris was elegantly dressed, with a slightly\r
+martial touch appropriate to a campaign. He wore a long coat and like\r
+Kutuzov had a whip slung across his shoulder.\r
+\r
+Meanwhile Kutuzov had reached the village and seated himself in the\r
+shade of the nearest house, on a bench which one Cossack had run to\r
+fetch and another had hastily covered with a rug. An immense and\r
+brilliant suite surrounded him.\r
+\r
+The icon was carried further, accompanied by the throng. Pierre stopped\r
+some thirty paces from Kutuzov, talking to Boris.\r
+\r
+He explained his wish to be present at the battle and to see the\r
+position.\r
+\r
+"This is what you must do," said Boris. "I will do the honors of the\r
+camp to you. You will see everything best from where Count Bennigsen\r
+will be. I am in attendance on him, you know; I'll mention it to him.\r
+But if you want to ride round the position, come along with us. We are\r
+just going to the left flank. Then when we get back, do spend the night\r
+with me and we'll arrange a game of cards. Of course you know Dmitri\r
+Sergeevich? Those are his quarters," and he pointed to the third house\r
+in the village of Gorki.\r
+\r
+"But I should like to see the right flank. They say it's very strong,"\r
+said Pierre. "I should like to start from the Moskva River and ride\r
+round the whole position."\r
+\r
+"Well, you can do that later, but the chief thing is the left flank."\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes. But where is Prince Bolkonski's regiment? Can you point it\r
+out to me?"\r
+\r
+"Prince Andrew's? We shall pass it and I'll take you to him."\r
+\r
+"What about the left flank?" asked Pierre\r
+\r
+"To tell you the truth, between ourselves, God only knows what state our\r
+left flank is in," said Boris confidentially lowering his voice. "It is\r
+not at all what Count Bennigsen intended. He meant to fortify that knoll\r
+quite differently, but..." Boris shrugged his shoulders, "his Serene\r
+Highness would not have it, or someone persuaded him. You see..." but\r
+Boris did not finish, for at that moment Kaysarov, Kutuzov's adjutant,\r
+came up to Pierre. "Ah, Kaysarov!" said Boris, addressing him with an\r
+unembarrassed smile, "I was just trying to explain our position to the\r
+count. It is amazing how his Serene Highness could so foresee the\r
+intentions of the French!"\r
+\r
+"You mean the left flank?" asked Kaysarov.\r
+\r
+"Yes, exactly; the left flank is now extremely strong."\r
+\r
+Though Kutuzov had dismissed all unnecessary men from the staff, Boris\r
+had contrived to remain at headquarters after the changes. He had\r
+established himself with Count Bennigsen, who, like all on whom Boris\r
+had been in attendance, considered young Prince Drubetskoy an invaluable\r
+man.\r
+\r
+In the higher command there were two sharply defined parties: Kutuzov's\r
+party and that of Bennigsen, the chief of staff. Boris belonged to the\r
+latter and no one else, while showing servile respect to Kutuzov, could\r
+so create an impression that the old fellow was not much good and that\r
+Bennigsen managed everything. Now the decisive moment of battle had come\r
+when Kutuzov would be destroyed and the power pass to Bennigsen, or even\r
+if Kutuzov won the battle it would be felt that everything was done by\r
+Bennigsen. In any case many great rewards would have to be given for\r
+tomorrow's action, and new men would come to the front. So Boris was\r
+full of nervous vivacity all day.\r
+\r
+After Kaysarov, others whom Pierre knew came up to him, and he had not\r
+time to reply to all the questions about Moscow that were showered upon\r
+him, or to listen to all that was told him. The faces all expressed\r
+animation and apprehension, but it seemed to Pierre that the cause of\r
+the excitement shown in some of these faces lay chiefly in questions of\r
+personal success; his mind, however, was occupied by the different\r
+expression he saw on other faces--an expression that spoke not of\r
+personal matters but of the universal questions of life and death.\r
+Kutuzov noticed Pierre's figure and the group gathered round him.\r
+\r
+"Call him to me," said Kutuzov.\r
+\r
+An adjutant told Pierre of his Serene Highness' wish, and Pierre went\r
+toward Kutuzov's bench. But a militiaman got there before him. It was\r
+Dolokhov.\r
+\r
+"How did that fellow get here?" asked Pierre.\r
+\r
+"He's a creature that wriggles in anywhere!" was the answer. "He has\r
+been degraded, you know. Now he wants to bob up again. He's been\r
+proposing some scheme or other and has crawled into the enemy's picket\r
+line at night.... He's a brave fellow."\r
+\r
+Pierre took off his hat and bowed respectfully to Kutuzov.\r
+\r
+"I concluded that if I reported to your Serene Highness you might send\r
+me away or say that you knew what I was reporting, but then I shouldn't\r
+lose anything..." Dolokhov was saying.\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes."\r
+\r
+"But if I were right, I should be rendering a service to my Fatherland\r
+for which I am ready to die."\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes."\r
+\r
+"And should your Serene Highness require a man who will not spare his\r
+skin, please think of me.... Perhaps I may prove useful to your Serene\r
+Highness."\r
+\r
+"Yes... Yes..." Kutuzov repeated, his laughing eye narrowing more and\r
+more as he looked at Pierre.\r
+\r
+Just then Boris, with his courtierlike adroitness, stepped up to\r
+Pierre's side near Kutuzov and in a most natural manner, without raising\r
+his voice, said to Pierre, as though continuing an interrupted\r
+conversation:\r
+\r
+"The militia have put on clean white shirts to be ready to die. What\r
+heroism, Count!"\r
+\r
+Boris evidently said this to Pierre in order to be overheard by his\r
+Serene Highness. He knew Kutuzov's attention would be caught by those\r
+words, and so it was.\r
+\r
+"What are you saying about the militia?" he asked Boris.\r
+\r
+"Preparing for tomorrow, your Serene Highness--for death--they have put\r
+on clean shirts."\r
+\r
+"Ah... a wonderful, a matchless people!" said Kutuzov; and he closed his\r
+eyes and swayed his head. "A matchless people!" he repeated with a sigh.\r
+\r
+"So you want to smell gunpowder?" he said to Pierre. "Yes, it's a\r
+pleasant smell. I have the honor to be one of your wife's adorers. Is\r
+she well? My quarters are at your service."\r
+\r
+And as often happens with old people, Kutuzov began looking about\r
+absent-mindedly as if forgetting all he wanted to say or do.\r
+\r
+Then, evidently remembering what he wanted, he beckoned to Andrew\r
+Kaysarov, his adjutant's brother.\r
+\r
+"Those verses... those verses of Marin's... how do they go, eh? Those he\r
+wrote about Gerakov: 'Lectures for the corps inditing'... Recite them,\r
+recite them!" said he, evidently preparing to laugh.\r
+\r
+Kaysarov recited.... Kutuzov smilingly nodded his head to the rhythm of\r
+the verses.\r
+\r
+When Pierre had left Kutuzov, Dolokhov came up to him and took his hand.\r
+\r
+"I am very glad to meet you here, Count," he said aloud, regardless of\r
+the presence of strangers and in a particularly resolute and solemn\r
+tone. "On the eve of a day when God alone knows who of us is fated to\r
+survive, I am glad of this opportunity to tell you that I regret the\r
+misunderstandings that occurred between us and should wish you not to\r
+have any ill feeling for me. I beg you to forgive me."\r
+\r
+Pierre looked at Dolokhov with a smile, not knowing what to say to him.\r
+With tears in his eyes Dolokhov embraced Pierre and kissed him.\r
+\r
+Boris said a few words to his general, and Count Bennigsen turned to\r
+Pierre and proposed that he should ride with him along the line.\r
+\r
+"It will interest you," said he.\r
+\r
+"Yes, very much," replied Pierre.\r
+\r
+Half an hour later Kutuzov left for Tatarinova, and Bennigsen and his\r
+suite, with Pierre among them, set out on their ride along the line.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXIII\r
+\r
+From Gorki, Bennigsen descended the highroad to the bridge which, when\r
+they had looked at it from the hill, the officer had pointed out as\r
+being the center of our position and where rows of fragrant new-mown hay\r
+lay by the riverside. They rode across that bridge into the village of\r
+Borodino and thence turned to the left, passing an enormous number of\r
+troops and guns, and came to a high knoll where militiamen were digging.\r
+This was the redoubt, as yet unnamed, which afterwards became known as\r
+the Raevski Redoubt, or the Knoll Battery, but Pierre paid no special\r
+attention to it. He did not know that it would become more memorable to\r
+him than any other spot on the plain of Borodino.\r
+\r
+They then crossed the hollow to Semenovsk, where the soldiers were\r
+dragging away the last logs from the huts and barns. Then they rode\r
+downhill and uphill, across a ryefield trodden and beaten down as if by\r
+hail, following a track freshly made by the artillery over the furrows\r
+of the plowed land, and reached some fleches * which were still being\r
+dug.\r
+\r
+\r
+* A kind of entrenchment.\r
+\r
+At the fleches Bennigsen stopped and began looking at the Shevardino\r
+Redoubt opposite, which had been ours the day before and where several\r
+horsemen could be descried. The officers said that either Napoleon or\r
+Murat was there, and they all gazed eagerly at this little group of\r
+horsemen. Pierre also looked at them, trying to guess which of the\r
+scarcely discernible figures was Napoleon. At last those mounted men\r
+rode away from the mound and disappeared.\r
+\r
+Bennigsen spoke to a general who approached him, and began explaining\r
+the whole position of our troops. Pierre listened to him, straining each\r
+faculty to understand the essential points of the impending battle, but\r
+was mortified to feel that his mental capacity was inadequate for the\r
+task. He could make nothing of it. Bennigsen stopped speaking and,\r
+noticing that Pierre was listening, suddenly said to him:\r
+\r
+"I don't think this interests you?"\r
+\r
+"On the contrary it's very interesting!" replied Pierre not quite\r
+truthfully.\r
+\r
+From the fleches they rode still farther to the left, along a road\r
+winding through a thick, low-growing birch wood. In the middle of the\r
+wood a brown hare with white feet sprang out and, scared by the tramp of\r
+the many horses, grew so confused that it leaped along the road in front\r
+of them for some time, arousing general attention and laughter, and only\r
+when several voices shouted at it did it dart to one side and disappear\r
+in the thicket. After going through the wood for about a mile and a half\r
+they came out on a glade where troops of Tuchkov's corps were stationed\r
+to defend the left flank.\r
+\r
+Here, at the extreme left flank, Bennigsen talked a great deal and with\r
+much heat, and, as it seemed to Pierre, gave orders of great military\r
+importance. In front of Tuchkov's troops was some high ground not\r
+occupied by troops. Bennigsen loudly criticized this mistake, saying\r
+that it was madness to leave a height which commanded the country around\r
+unoccupied and to place troops below it. Some of the generals expressed\r
+the same opinion. One in particular declared with martial heat that they\r
+were put there to be slaughtered. Bennigsen on his own authority ordered\r
+the troops to occupy the high ground. This disposition on the left flank\r
+increased Pierre's doubt of his own capacity to understand military\r
+matters. Listening to Bennigsen and the generals criticizing the\r
+position of the troops behind the hill, he quite understood them and\r
+shared their opinion, but for that very reason he could not understand\r
+how the man who put them there behind the hill could have made so gross\r
+and palpable a blunder.\r
+\r
+Pierre did not know that these troops were not, as Bennigsen supposed,\r
+put there to defend the position, but were in a concealed position as an\r
+ambush, that they should not be seen and might be able to strike an\r
+approaching enemy unexpectedly. Bennigsen did not know this and moved\r
+the troops forward according to his own ideas without mentioning the\r
+matter to the commander-in-chief.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXIV\r
+\r
+On that bright evening of August 25, Prince Andrew lay leaning on his\r
+elbow in a broken-down shed in the village of Knyazkovo at the further\r
+end of his regiment's encampment. Through a gap in the broken wall he\r
+could see, beside the wooden fence, a row of thirty year-old birches\r
+with their lower branches lopped off, a field on which shocks of oats\r
+were standing, and some bushes near which rose the smoke of campfires--\r
+the soldiers' kitchens.\r
+\r
+Narrow and burdensome and useless to anyone as his life now seemed to\r
+him, Prince Andrew on the eve of battle felt agitated and irritable as\r
+he had done seven years before at Austerlitz.\r
+\r
+He had received and given the orders for next day's battle and had\r
+nothing more to do. But his thoughts--the simplest, clearest, and\r
+therefore most terrible thoughts--would give him no peace. He knew that\r
+tomorrow's battle would be the most terrible of all he had taken part\r
+in, and for the first time in his life the possibility of death\r
+presented itself to him--not in relation to any worldly matter or with\r
+reference to its effect on others, but simply in relation to himself, to\r
+his own soul--vividly, plainly, terribly, and almost as a certainty. And\r
+from the height of this perception all that had previously tormented and\r
+preoccupied him suddenly became illumined by a cold white light without\r
+shadows, without perspective, without distinction of outline. All life\r
+appeared to him like magic-lantern pictures at which he had long been\r
+gazing by artificial light through a glass. Now he suddenly saw those\r
+badly daubed pictures in clear daylight and without a glass. "Yes, yes!\r
+There they are, those false images that agitated, enraptured, and\r
+tormented me," said he to himself, passing in review the principal\r
+pictures of the magic lantern of life and regarding them now in the cold\r
+white daylight of his clear perception of death. "There they are, those\r
+rudely painted figures that once seemed splendid and mysterious. Glory,\r
+the good of society, love of a woman, the Fatherland itself--how\r
+important these pictures appeared to me, with what profound meaning they\r
+seemed to be filled! And it is all so simple, pale, and crude in the\r
+cold white light of this morning which I feel is dawning for me." The\r
+three great sorrows of his life held his attention in particular: his\r
+love for a woman, his father's death, and the French invasion which had\r
+overrun half Russia. "Love... that little girl who seemed to me brimming\r
+over with mystic forces! Yes, indeed, I loved her. I made romantic plans\r
+of love and happiness with her! Oh, what a boy I was!" he said aloud\r
+bitterly. "Ah me! I believed in some ideal love which was to keep her\r
+faithful to me for the whole year of my absence! Like the gentle dove in\r
+the fable she was to pine apart from me.... But it was much simpler\r
+really.... It was all very simple and horrible."\r
+\r
+"When my father built Bald Hills he thought the place was his: his land,\r
+his air, his peasants. But Napoleon came and swept him aside,\r
+unconscious of his existence, as he might brush a chip from his path,\r
+and his Bald Hills and his whole life fell to pieces. Princess Mary says\r
+it is a trial sent from above. What is the trial for, when he is not\r
+here and will never return? He is not here! For whom then is the trial\r
+intended? The Fatherland, the destruction of Moscow! And tomorrow I\r
+shall be killed, perhaps not even by a Frenchman but by one of our own\r
+men, by a soldier discharging a musket close to my ear as one of them\r
+did yesterday, and the French will come and take me by head and heels\r
+and fling me into a hole that I may not stink under their noses, and new\r
+conditions of life will arise, which will seem quite ordinary to others\r
+and about which I shall know nothing. I shall not exist..."\r
+\r
+He looked at the row of birches shining in the sunshine, with their\r
+motionless green and yellow foliage and white bark. "To die... to be\r
+killed tomorrow... That I should not exist... That all this should still\r
+be, but no me...."\r
+\r
+And the birches with their light and shade, the curly clouds, the smoke\r
+of the campfires, and all that was around him changed and seemed\r
+terrible and menacing. A cold shiver ran down his spine. He rose\r
+quickly, went out of the shed, and began to walk about.\r
+\r
+After he had returned, voices were heard outside the shed. "Who's that?"\r
+he cried.\r
+\r
+The red-nosed Captain Timokhin, formerly Dolokhov's squadron commander,\r
+but now from lack of officers a battalion commander, shyly entered the\r
+shed followed by an adjutant and the regimental paymaster.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew rose hastily, listened to the business they had come\r
+about, gave them some further instructions, and was about to dismiss\r
+them when he heard a familiar, lisping, voice behind the shed.\r
+\r
+"Devil take it!" said the voice of a man stumbling over something.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew looked out of the shed and saw Pierre, who had tripped\r
+over a pole on the ground and had nearly fallen, coming his way. It was\r
+unpleasant to Prince Andrew to meet people of his own set in general,\r
+and Pierre especially, for he reminded him of all the painful moments of\r
+his last visit to Moscow.\r
+\r
+"You? What a surprise!" said he. "What brings you here? This is\r
+unexpected!"\r
+\r
+As he said this his eyes and face expressed more than coldness--they\r
+expressed hostility, which Pierre noticed at once. He had approached the\r
+shed full of animation, but on seeing Prince Andrew's face he felt\r
+constrained and ill at ease.\r
+\r
+"I have come... simply... you know... come... it interests me," said\r
+Pierre, who had so often that day senselessly repeated that word\r
+"interesting." "I wish to see the battle."\r
+\r
+"Oh yes, and what do the masonic brothers say about war? How would they\r
+stop it?" said Prince Andrew sarcastically. "Well, and how's Moscow? And\r
+my people? Have they reached Moscow at last?" he asked seriously.\r
+\r
+"Yes, they have. Julie Drubetskaya told me so. I went to see them, but\r
+missed them. They have gone to your estate near Moscow."\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXV\r
+\r
+The officers were about to take leave, but Prince Andrew, apparently\r
+reluctant to be left alone with his friend, asked them to stay and have\r
+tea. Seats were brought in and so was the tea. The officers gazed with\r
+surprise at Pierre's huge stout figure and listened to his talk of\r
+Moscow and the position of our army, round which he had ridden. Prince\r
+Andrew remained silent, and his expression was so forbidding that Pierre\r
+addressed his remarks chiefly to the good-natured battalion commander.\r
+\r
+"So you understand the whole position of our troops?" Prince Andrew\r
+interrupted him.\r
+\r
+"Yes--that is, how do you mean?" said Pierre. "Not being a military man\r
+I can't say I have understood it fully, but I understand the general\r
+position."\r
+\r
+"Well, then, you know more than anyone else, be it who it may," said\r
+Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+"Oh!" said Pierre, looking over his spectacles in perplexity at Prince\r
+Andrew. "Well, and what do you think of Kutuzov's appointment?" he\r
+asked.\r
+\r
+"I was very glad of his appointment, that's all I know," replied Prince\r
+Andrew.\r
+\r
+"And tell me your opinion of Barclay de Tolly. In Moscow they are saying\r
+heaven knows what about him.... What do you think of him?"\r
+\r
+"Ask them," replied Prince Andrew, indicating the officers.\r
+\r
+Pierre looked at Timokhin with the condescendingly interrogative smile\r
+with which everybody involuntarily addressed that officer.\r
+\r
+"We see light again, since his Serenity has been appointed, your\r
+excellency," said Timokhin timidly, and continually turning to glance at\r
+his colonel.\r
+\r
+"Why so?" asked Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Well, to mention only firewood and fodder, let me inform you. Why, when\r
+we were retreating from Sventsyani we dare not touch a stick or a wisp\r
+of hay or anything. You see, we were going away, so he would get it all;\r
+wasn't it so, your excellency?" and again Timokhin turned to the prince.\r
+"But we daren't. In our regiment two officers were court-martialed for\r
+that kind of thing. But when his Serenity took command everything became\r
+straight forward. Now we see light..."\r
+\r
+"Then why was it forbidden?"\r
+\r
+Timokhin looked about in confusion, not knowing what or how to answer\r
+such a question. Pierre put the same question to Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+"Why, so as not to lay waste the country we were abandoning to the\r
+enemy," said Prince Andrew with venomous irony. "It is very sound: one\r
+can't permit the land to be pillaged and accustom the troops to\r
+marauding. At Smolensk too he judged correctly that the French might\r
+outflank us, as they had larger forces. But he could not understand\r
+this," cried Prince Andrew in a shrill voice that seemed to escape him\r
+involuntarily: "he could not understand that there, for the first time,\r
+we were fighting for Russian soil, and that there was a spirit in the\r
+men such as I had never seen before, that we had held the French for two\r
+days, and that that success had increased our strength tenfold. He\r
+ordered us to retreat, and all our efforts and losses went for nothing.\r
+He had no thought of betraying us, he tried to do the best he could, he\r
+thought out everything, and that is why he is unsuitable. He is\r
+unsuitable now, just because he plans out everything very thoroughly and\r
+accurately as every German has to. How can I explain?... Well, say your\r
+father has a German valet, and he is a splendid valet and satisfies your\r
+father's requirements better than you could, then it's all right to let\r
+him serve. But if your father is mortally sick you'll send the valet\r
+away and attend to your father with your own unpracticed, awkward hands,\r
+and will soothe him better than a skilled man who is a stranger could.\r
+So it has been with Barclay. While Russia was well, a foreigner could\r
+serve her and be a splendid minister; but as soon as she is in danger\r
+she needs one of her own kin. But in your club they have been making him\r
+out a traitor! They slander him as a traitor, and the only result will\r
+be that afterwards, ashamed of their false accusations, they will make\r
+him out a hero or a genius instead of a traitor, and that will be still\r
+more unjust. He is an honest and very punctilious German."\r
+\r
+"And they say he's a skillful commander," rejoined Pierre.\r
+\r
+"I don't understand what is meant by 'a skillful commander,'" replied\r
+Prince Andrew ironically.\r
+\r
+"A skillful commander?" replied Pierre. "Why, one who foresees all\r
+contingencies... and foresees the adversary's intentions."\r
+\r
+"But that's impossible," said Prince Andrew as if it were a matter\r
+settled long ago.\r
+\r
+Pierre looked at him in surprise.\r
+\r
+"And yet they say that war is like a game of chess?" he remarked.\r
+\r
+"Yes," replied Prince Andrew, "but with this little difference, that in\r
+chess you may think over each move as long as you please and are not\r
+limited for time, and with this difference too, that a knight is always\r
+stronger than a pawn, and two pawns are always stronger than one, while\r
+in war a battalion is sometimes stronger than a division and sometimes\r
+weaker than a company. The relative strength of bodies of troops can\r
+never be known to anyone. Believe me," he went on, "if things depended\r
+on arrangements made by the staff, I should be there making\r
+arrangements, but instead of that I have the honor to serve here in the\r
+regiment with these gentlemen, and I consider that on us tomorrow's\r
+battle will depend and not on those others.... Success never depends,\r
+and never will depend, on position, or equipment, or even on numbers,\r
+and least of all on position."\r
+\r
+"But on what then?"\r
+\r
+"On the feeling that is in me and in him," he pointed to Timokhin, "and\r
+in each soldier."\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew glanced at Timokhin, who looked at his commander in alarm\r
+and bewilderment. In contrast to his former reticent taciturnity Prince\r
+Andrew now seemed excited. He could apparently not refrain from\r
+expressing the thoughts that had suddenly occurred to him.\r
+\r
+"A battle is won by those who firmly resolve to win it! Why did we lose\r
+the battle at Austerlitz? The French losses were almost equal to ours,\r
+but very early we said to ourselves that we were losing the battle, and\r
+we did lose it. And we said so because we had nothing to fight for\r
+there, we wanted to get away from the battlefield as soon as we could.\r
+'We've lost, so let us run,' and we ran. If we had not said that till\r
+the evening, heaven knows what might not have happened. But tomorrow we\r
+shan't say it! You talk about our position, the left flank weak and the\r
+right flank too extended," he went on. "That's all nonsense, there's\r
+nothing of the kind. But what awaits us tomorrow? A hundred million most\r
+diverse chances which will be decided on the instant by the fact that\r
+our men or theirs run or do not run, and that this man or that man is\r
+killed, but all that is being done at present is only play. The fact is\r
+that those men with whom you have ridden round the position not only do\r
+not help matters, but hinder. They are only concerned with their own\r
+petty interests."\r
+\r
+"At such a moment?" said Pierre reproachfully.\r
+\r
+"At such a moment!" Prince Andrew repeated. "To them it is only a moment\r
+affording opportunities to undermine a rival and obtain an extra cross\r
+or ribbon. For me tomorrow means this: a Russian army of a hundred\r
+thousand and a French army of a hundred thousand have met to fight, and\r
+the thing is that these two hundred thousand men will fight and the side\r
+that fights more fiercely and spares itself least will win. And if you\r
+like I will tell you that whatever happens and whatever muddles those at\r
+the top may make, we shall win tomorrow's battle. Tomorrow, happen what\r
+may, we shall win!"\r
+\r
+"There now, your excellency! That's the truth, the real truth," said\r
+Timokhin. "Who would spare himself now? The soldiers in my battalion,\r
+believe me, wouldn't drink their vodka! 'It's not the day for that!'\r
+they say."\r
+\r
+All were silent. The officers rose. Prince Andrew went out of the shed\r
+with them, giving final orders to the adjutant. After they had gone\r
+Pierre approached Prince Andrew and was about to start a conversation\r
+when they heard the clatter of three horses' hoofs on the road not far\r
+from the shed, and looking in that direction Prince Andrew recognized\r
+Wolzogen and Clausewitz accompanied by a Cossack. They rode close by\r
+continuing to converse, and Prince Andrew involuntarily heard these\r
+words:\r
+\r
+"Der Krieg muss in Raum verlegt werden. Der Ansicht kann ich nicht genug\r
+Preis geben," * said one of them.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "The war must be extended widely. I cannot sufficiently commend that\r
+view."\r
+\r
+"Oh, ja," said the other, "der Zweck ist nur den Feind zu schwächen, so\r
+kann man gewiss nicht den Verlust der Privat-Personen in Achtung\r
+nehmen." *\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Oh, yes, the only aim is to weaken the enemy, so of course one cannot\r
+take into account the loss of private individuals."\r
+\r
+"Oh, no," agreed the other.\r
+\r
+"Extend widely!" said Prince Andrew with an angry snort, when they had\r
+ridden past. "In that 'extend' were my father, son, and sister, at Bald\r
+Hills. That's all the same to him! That's what I was saying to you--\r
+those German gentlemen won't win the battle tomorrow but will only make\r
+all the mess they can, because they have nothing in their German heads\r
+but theories not worth an empty eggshell and haven't in their hearts the\r
+one thing needed tomorrow--that which Timokhin has. They have yielded up\r
+all Europe to him, and have now come to teach us. Fine teachers!" and\r
+again his voice grew shrill.\r
+\r
+"So you think we shall win tomorrow's battle?" asked Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes," answered Prince Andrew absently. "One thing I would do if I\r
+had the power," he began again, "I would not take prisoners. Why take\r
+prisoners? It's chivalry! The French have destroyed my home and are on\r
+their way to destroy Moscow, they have outraged and are outraging me\r
+every moment. They are my enemies. In my opinion they are all criminals.\r
+And so thinks Timokhin and the whole army. They should be executed!\r
+Since they are my foes they cannot be my friends, whatever may have been\r
+said at Tilsit."\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes," muttered Pierre, looking with shining eyes at Prince Andrew.\r
+"I quite agree with you!"\r
+\r
+The question that had perturbed Pierre on the Mozhaysk hill and all that\r
+day now seemed to him quite clear and completely solved. He now\r
+understood the whole meaning and importance of this war and of the\r
+impending battle. All he had seen that day, all the significant and\r
+stern expressions on the faces he had seen in passing, were lit up for\r
+him by a new light. He understood that latent heat (as they say in\r
+physics) of patriotism which was present in all these men he had seen,\r
+and this explained to him why they all prepared for death calmly, and as\r
+it were lightheartedly.\r
+\r
+"Not take prisoners," Prince Andrew continued: "That by itself would\r
+quite change the whole war and make it less cruel. As it is we have\r
+played at war--that's what's vile! We play at magnanimity and all that\r
+stuff. Such magnanimity and sensibility are like the magnanimity and\r
+sensibility of a lady who faints when she sees a calf being killed: she\r
+is so kindhearted that she can't look at blood, but enjoys eating the\r
+calf served up with sauce. They talk to us of the rules of war, of\r
+chivalry, of flags of truce, of mercy to the unfortunate and so on. It's\r
+all rubbish! I saw chivalry and flags of truce in 1805; they humbugged\r
+us and we humbugged them. They plunder other people's houses, issue\r
+false paper money, and worst of all they kill my children and my father,\r
+and then talk of rules of war and magnanimity to foes! Take no\r
+prisoners, but kill and be killed! He who has come to this as I have\r
+through the same sufferings..."\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew, who had thought it was all the same to him whether or not\r
+Moscow was taken as Smolensk had been, was suddenly checked in his\r
+speech by an unexpected cramp in his throat. He paced up and down a few\r
+times in silence, but his eyes glittered feverishly and his lips\r
+quivered as he began speaking.\r
+\r
+"If there was none of this magnanimity in war, we should go to war only\r
+when it was worth while going to certain death, as now. Then there would\r
+not be war because Paul Ivanovich had offended Michael Ivanovich. And\r
+when there was a war, like this one, it would be war! And then the\r
+determination of the troops would be quite different. Then all these\r
+Westphalians and Hessians whom Napoleon is leading would not follow him\r
+into Russia, and we should not go to fight in Austria and Prussia\r
+without knowing why. War is not courtesy but the most horrible thing in\r
+life; and we ought to understand that and not play at war. We ought to\r
+accept this terrible necessity sternly and seriously. It all lies in\r
+that: get rid of falsehood and let war be war and not a game. As it is\r
+now, war is the favorite pastime of the idle and frivolous. The military\r
+calling is the most highly honored.\r
+\r
+"But what is war? What is needed for success in warfare? What are the\r
+habits of the military? The aim of war is murder; the methods of war are\r
+spying, treachery, and their encouragement, the ruin of a country's\r
+inhabitants, robbing them or stealing to provision the army, and fraud\r
+and falsehood termed military craft. The habits of the military class\r
+are the absence of freedom, that is, discipline, idleness, ignorance,\r
+cruelty, debauchery, and drunkenness. And in spite of all this it is the\r
+highest class, respected by everyone. All the kings, except the Chinese,\r
+wear military uniforms, and he who kills most people receives the\r
+highest rewards.\r
+\r
+"They meet, as we shall meet tomorrow, to murder one another; they kill\r
+and maim tens of thousands, and then have thanksgiving services for\r
+having killed so many people (they even exaggerate the number), and they\r
+announce a victory, supposing that the more people they have killed the\r
+greater their achievement. How does God above look at them and hear\r
+them?" exclaimed Prince Andrew in a shrill, piercing voice. "Ah, my\r
+friend, it has of late become hard for me to live. I see that I have\r
+begun to understand too much. And it doesn't do for man to taste of the\r
+tree of knowledge of good and evil.... Ah, well, it's not for long!" he\r
+added.\r
+\r
+"However, you're sleepy, and it's time for me to sleep. Go back to\r
+Gorki!" said Prince Andrew suddenly.\r
+\r
+"Oh no!" Pierre replied, looking at Prince Andrew with frightened,\r
+compassionate eyes.\r
+\r
+"Go, go! Before a battle one must have one's sleep out," repeated Prince\r
+Andrew.\r
+\r
+He came quickly up to Pierre and embraced and kissed him. "Good-bye, be\r
+off!" he shouted. "Whether we meet again or not..." and turning away\r
+hurriedly he entered the shed.\r
+\r
+It was already dark, and Pierre could not make out whether the\r
+expression of Prince Andrew's face was angry or tender.\r
+\r
+For some time he stood in silence considering whether he should follow\r
+him or go away. "No, he does not want it!" Pierre concluded. "And I know\r
+that this is our last meeting!" He sighed deeply and rode back to Gorki.\r
+\r
+On re-entering the shed Prince Andrew lay down on a rug, but he could\r
+not sleep.\r
+\r
+He closed his eyes. One picture succeeded another in his imagination. On\r
+one of them he dwelt long and joyfully. He vividly recalled an evening\r
+in Petersburg. Natasha with animated and excited face was telling him\r
+how she had gone to look for mushrooms the previous summer and had lost\r
+her way in the big forest. She incoherently described the depths of the\r
+forest, her feelings, and a talk with a beekeeper she met, and\r
+constantly interrupted her story to say: "No, I can't! I'm not telling\r
+it right; no, you don't understand," though he encouraged her by saying\r
+that he did understand, and he really had understood all she wanted to\r
+say. But Natasha was not satisfied with her own words: she felt that\r
+they did not convey the passionately poetic feeling she had experienced\r
+that day and wished to convey. "He was such a delightful old man, and it\r
+was so dark in the forest... and he had such kind... No, I can't\r
+describe it," she had said, flushed and excited. Prince Andrew smiled\r
+now the same happy smile as then when he had looked into her eyes. "I\r
+understood her," he thought. "I not only understood her, but it was just\r
+that inner, spiritual force, that sincerity, that frankness of soul--\r
+that very soul of hers which seemed to be fettered by her body--it was\r
+that soul I loved in her... loved so strongly and happily..." and\r
+suddenly he remembered how his love had ended. "He did not need anything\r
+of that kind. He neither saw nor understood anything of the sort. He\r
+only saw in her a pretty and fresh young girl, with whom he did not\r
+deign to unite his fate. And I?... and he is still alive and gay!"\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew jumped up as if someone had burned him, and again began\r
+pacing up and down in front of the shed.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXVI\r
+\r
+On August 25, the eve of the battle of Borodino, M. de Beausset, prefect\r
+of the French Emperor's palace, arrived at Napoleon's quarters at\r
+Valuevo with Colonel Fabvier, the former from Paris and the latter from\r
+Madrid.\r
+\r
+Donning his court uniform, M. de Beausset ordered a box he had brought\r
+for the Emperor to be carried before him and entered the first\r
+compartment of Napoleon's tent, where he began opening the box while\r
+conversing with Napoleon's aides-de-camp who surrounded him.\r
+\r
+Fabvier, not entering the tent, remained at the entrance talking to some\r
+generals of his acquaintance.\r
+\r
+The Emperor Napoleon had not yet left his bedroom and was finishing his\r
+toilet. Slightly snorting and grunting, he presented now his back and\r
+now his plump hairy chest to the brush with which his valet was rubbing\r
+him down. Another valet, with his finger over the mouth of a bottle, was\r
+sprinkling Eau de Cologne on the Emperor's pampered body with an\r
+expression which seemed to say that he alone knew where and how much Eau\r
+de Cologne should be sprinkled. Napoleon's short hair was wet and matted\r
+on the forehead, but his face, though puffy and yellow, expressed\r
+physical satisfaction. "Go on, harder, go on!" he muttered to the valet\r
+who was rubbing him, slightly twitching and grunting. An aide-de-camp,\r
+who had entered the bedroom to report to the Emperor the number of\r
+prisoners taken in yesterday's action, was standing by the door after\r
+delivering his message, awaiting permission to withdraw. Napoleon,\r
+frowning, looked at him from under his brows.\r
+\r
+"No prisoners!" said he, repeating the aide-de-camp's words. "They are\r
+forcing us to exterminate them. So much the worse for the Russian\r
+army.... Go on... harder, harder!" he muttered, hunching his back and\r
+presenting his fat shoulders.\r
+\r
+"All right. Let Monsieur de Beausset enter, and Fabvier too," he said,\r
+nodding to the aide-de-camp.\r
+\r
+"Yes, sire," and the aide-de-camp disappeared through the door of the\r
+tent.\r
+\r
+Two valets rapidly dressed His Majesty, and wearing the blue uniform of\r
+the Guards he went with firm quick steps to the reception room.\r
+\r
+De Beausset's hands meanwhile were busily engaged arranging the present\r
+he had brought from the Empress, on two chairs directly in front of the\r
+entrance. But Napoleon had dressed and come out with such unexpected\r
+rapidity that he had not time to finish arranging the surprise.\r
+\r
+Napoleon noticed at once what they were about and guessed that they were\r
+not ready. He did not wish to deprive them of the pleasure of giving him\r
+a surprise, so he pretended not to see de Beausset and called Fabvier to\r
+him, listening silently and with a stern frown to what Fabvier told him\r
+of the heroism and devotion of his troops fighting at Salamanca, at the\r
+other end of Europe, with but one thought--to be worthy of their\r
+Emperor--and but one fear--to fail to please him. The result of that\r
+battle had been deplorable. Napoleon made ironic remarks during\r
+Fabvier's account, as if he had not expected that matters could go\r
+otherwise in his absence.\r
+\r
+"I must make up for that in Moscow," said Napoleon. "I'll see you\r
+later," he added, and summoned de Beausset, who by that time had\r
+prepared the surprise, having placed something on the chairs and covered\r
+it with a cloth.\r
+\r
+De Beausset bowed low, with that courtly French bow which only the old\r
+retainers of the Bourbons knew how to make, and approached him,\r
+presenting an envelope.\r
+\r
+Napoleon turned to him gaily and pulled his ear.\r
+\r
+"You have hurried here. I am very glad. Well, what is Paris saying?" he\r
+asked, suddenly changing his former stern expression for a most cordial\r
+tone.\r
+\r
+"Sire, all Paris regrets your absence," replied de Beausset as was\r
+proper.\r
+\r
+But though Napoleon knew that de Beausset had to say something of this\r
+kind, and though in his lucid moments he knew it was untrue, he was\r
+pleased to hear it from him. Again he honored him by touching his ear.\r
+\r
+"I am very sorry to have made you travel so far," said he.\r
+\r
+"Sire, I expected nothing less than to find you at the gates of Moscow,"\r
+replied de Beausset.\r
+\r
+Napoleon smiled and, lifting his head absent-mindedly, glanced to the\r
+right. An aide-de-camp approached with gliding steps and offered him a\r
+gold snuffbox, which he took.\r
+\r
+"Yes, it has happened luckily for you," he said, raising the open\r
+snuffbox to his nose. "You are fond of travel, and in three days you\r
+will see Moscow. You surely did not expect to see that Asiatic capital.\r
+You will have a pleasant journey."\r
+\r
+De Beausset bowed gratefully at this regard for his taste for travel (of\r
+which he had not till then been aware).\r
+\r
+"Ha, what's this?" asked Napoleon, noticing that all the courtiers were\r
+looking at something concealed under a cloth.\r
+\r
+With courtly adroitness de Beausset half turned and without turning his\r
+back to the Emperor retired two steps, twitching off the cloth at the\r
+same time, and said:\r
+\r
+"A present to Your Majesty from the Empress."\r
+\r
+It was a portrait, painted in bright colors by Gerard, of the son borne\r
+to Napoleon by the daughter of the Emperor of Austria, the boy whom for\r
+some reason everyone called "The King of Rome."\r
+\r
+A very pretty curly-headed boy with a look of the Christ in the Sistine\r
+Madonna was depicted playing at stick and ball. The ball represented the\r
+terrestrial globe and the stick in his other hand a scepter.\r
+\r
+Though it was not clear what the artist meant to express by depicting\r
+the so-called King of Rome spiking the earth with a stick, the allegory\r
+apparently seemed to Napoleon, as it had done to all who had seen it in\r
+Paris, quite clear and very pleasing.\r
+\r
+"The King of Rome!" he said, pointing to the portrait with a graceful\r
+gesture. "Admirable!"\r
+\r
+With the natural capacity of an Italian for changing the expression of\r
+his face at will, he drew nearer to the portrait and assumed a look of\r
+pensive tenderness. He felt that what he now said and did would be\r
+historical, and it seemed to him that it would now be best for him--\r
+whose grandeur enabled his son to play stick and ball with the\r
+terrestrial globe--to show, in contrast to that grandeur, the simplest\r
+paternal tenderness. His eyes grew dim, he moved forward, glanced round\r
+at a chair (which seemed to place itself under him), and sat down on it\r
+before the portrait. At a single gesture from him everyone went out on\r
+tiptoe, leaving the great man to himself and his emotion.\r
+\r
+Having sat still for a while he touched--himself not knowing why--the\r
+thick spot of paint representing the highest light in the portrait,\r
+rose, and recalled de Beausset and the officer on duty. He ordered the\r
+portrait to be carried outside his tent, that the Old Guard, stationed\r
+round it, might not be deprived of the pleasure of seeing the King of\r
+Rome, the son and heir of their adored monarch.\r
+\r
+And while he was doing M. de Beausset the honor of breakfasting with\r
+him, they heard, as Napoleon had anticipated, the rapturous cries of the\r
+officers and men of the Old Guard who had run up to see the portrait.\r
+\r
+"Vive l'Empereur! Vive le roi de Rome! Vive l'Empereur!" came those\r
+ecstatic cries.\r
+\r
+After breakfast Napoleon in de Beausset's presence dictated his order of\r
+the day to the army.\r
+\r
+"Short and energetic!" he remarked when he had read over the\r
+proclamation which he had dictated straight off without corrections. It\r
+ran:\r
+\r
+Soldiers! This is the battle you have so longed for. Victory depends on\r
+you. It is essential for us; it will give us all we need: comfortable\r
+quarters and a speedy return to our country. Behave as you did at\r
+Austerlitz, Friedland, Vitebsk, and Smolensk. Let our remotest posterity\r
+recall your achievements this day with pride. Let it be said of each of\r
+you: "He was in the great battle before Moscow!"\r
+\r
+"Before Moscow!" repeated Napoleon, and inviting M. de Beausset, who was\r
+so fond of travel, to accompany him on his ride, he went out of the tent\r
+to where the horses stood saddled.\r
+\r
+"Your Majesty is too kind!" replied de Beausset to the invitation to\r
+accompany the Emperor; he wanted to sleep, did not know how to ride and\r
+was afraid of doing so.\r
+\r
+But Napoleon nodded to the traveler, and de Beausset had to mount. When\r
+Napoleon came out of the tent the shouting of the Guards before his\r
+son's portrait grew still louder. Napoleon frowned.\r
+\r
+"Take him away!" he said, pointing with a gracefully majestic gesture to\r
+the portrait. "It is too soon for him to see a field of battle."\r
+\r
+De Beausset closed his eyes, bowed his head, and sighed deeply, to\r
+indicate how profoundly he valued and comprehended the Emperor's words.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXVII\r
+\r
+On the twenty-fifth of August, so his historians tell us, Napoleon spent\r
+the whole day on horseback inspecting the locality, considering plans\r
+submitted to him by his marshals, and personally giving commands to his\r
+generals.\r
+\r
+The original line of the Russian forces along the river Kolocha had been\r
+dislocated by the capture of the Shevardino Redoubt on the twenty-\r
+fourth, and part of the line--the left flank--had been drawn back. That\r
+part of the line was not entrenched and in front of it the ground was\r
+more open and level than elsewhere. It was evident to anyone, military\r
+or not, that it was here the French should attack. It would seem that\r
+not much consideration was needed to reach this conclusion, nor any\r
+particular care or trouble on the part of the Emperor and his marshals,\r
+nor was there any need of that special and supreme quality called genius\r
+that people are so apt to ascribe to Napoleon; yet the historians who\r
+described the event later and the men who then surrounded Napoleon, and\r
+he himself, thought otherwise.\r
+\r
+Napoleon rode over the plain and surveyed the locality with a profound\r
+air and in silence, nodded with approval or shook his head dubiously,\r
+and without communicating to the generals around him the profound course\r
+of ideas which guided his decisions merely gave them his final\r
+conclusions in the form of commands. Having listened to a suggestion\r
+from Davout, who was now called Prince d'Eckmuhl, to turn the Russian\r
+left wing, Napoleon said it should not be done, without explaining why\r
+not. To a proposal made by General Campan (who was to attack the\r
+fleches) to lead his division through the woods, Napoleon agreed, though\r
+the so-called Duke of Elchingen (Ney) ventured to remark that a movement\r
+through the woods was dangerous and might disorder the division.\r
+\r
+Having inspected the country opposite the Shevardino Redoubt, Napoleon\r
+pondered a little in silence and then indicated the spots where two\r
+batteries should be set up by the morrow to act against the Russian\r
+entrenchments, and the places where, in line with them, the field\r
+artillery should be placed.\r
+\r
+After giving these and other commands he returned to his tent, and the\r
+dispositions for the battle were written down from his dictation.\r
+\r
+These dispositions, of which the French historians write with enthusiasm\r
+and other historians with profound respect, were as follows:\r
+\r
+At dawn the two new batteries established during the night on the plain\r
+occupied by the Prince d'Eckmuhl will open fire on the opposing\r
+batteries of the enemy.\r
+\r
+At the same time the commander of the artillery of the 1st Corps,\r
+General Pernetti, with thirty cannon of Campan's division and all the\r
+howitzers of Dessaix's and Friant's divisions, will move forward, open\r
+fire, and overwhelm with shellfire the enemy's battery, against which\r
+will operate:\r
+\r
+\r
+24 guns of the artillery of the Guards 30 guns of Campan's division\r
+\r
+and 8 guns of Friant's and Dessaix's divisions --\r
+\r
+in all 62 guns.\r
+\r
+The commander of the artillery of the 3rd Corps, General Fouche, will\r
+place the howitzers of the 3rd and 8th Corps, sixteen in all, on the\r
+flanks of the battery that is to bombard the entrenchment on the left,\r
+which will have forty guns in all directed against it.\r
+\r
+General Sorbier must be ready at the first order to advance with all the\r
+howitzers of the Guard's artillery against either one or other of the\r
+entrenchments.\r
+\r
+During the cannonade Prince Poniatowski is to advance through the wood\r
+on the village and turn the enemy's position.\r
+\r
+General Campan will move through the wood to seize the first\r
+fortification.\r
+\r
+After the advance has begun in this manner, orders will be given in\r
+accordance with the enemy's movements.\r
+\r
+The cannonade on the left flank will begin as soon as the guns of the\r
+right wing are heard. The sharpshooters of Morand's division and of the\r
+vice-King's division will open a heavy fire on seeing the attack\r
+commence on the right wing.\r
+\r
+The vice-King will occupy the village and cross by its three bridges,\r
+advancing to the same heights as Morand's and Gibrard's divisions, which\r
+under his leadership will be directed against the redoubt and come into\r
+line with the rest of the forces.\r
+\r
+All this must be done in good order (le tout se fera avec ordre et\r
+methode) as far as possible retaining troops in reserve.\r
+\r
+The Imperial Camp near Mozhaysk,\r
+\r
+September, 6, 1812.\r
+\r
+These dispositions, which are very obscure and confused if one allows\r
+oneself to regard the arrangements without religious awe of his genius,\r
+related to Napoleon's orders to deal with four points--four different\r
+orders. Not one of these was, or could be, carried out.\r
+\r
+In the disposition it is said first that the batteries placed on the\r
+spot chosen by Napoleon, with the guns of Pernetti and Fouche; which\r
+were to come in line with them, 102 guns in all, were to open fire and\r
+shower shells on the Russian fleches and redoubts. This could not be\r
+done, as from the spots selected by Napoleon the projectiles did not\r
+carry to the Russian works, and those 102 guns shot into the air until\r
+the nearest commander, contrary to Napoleon's instructions, moved them\r
+forward.\r
+\r
+The second order was that Poniatowski, moving to the village through the\r
+wood, should turn the Russian left flank. This could not be done and was\r
+not done, because Poniatowski, advancing on the village through the\r
+wood, met Tuchkov there barring his way, and could not and did not turn\r
+the Russian position.\r
+\r
+The third order was: General Campan will move through the wood to seize\r
+the first fortification. General Campan's division did not seize the\r
+first fortification but was driven back, for on emerging from the wood\r
+it had to reform under grapeshot, of which Napoleon was unaware.\r
+\r
+The fourth order was: The vice-King will occupy the village (Borodino)\r
+and cross by its three bridges, advancing to the same heights as\r
+Morand's and Gdrard's divisions (for whose movements no directions are\r
+given), which under his leadership will be directed against the redoubt\r
+and come into line with the rest of the forces.\r
+\r
+As far as one can make out, not so much from this unintelligible\r
+sentence as from the attempts the vice-King made to execute the orders\r
+given him, he was to advance from the left through Borodino to the\r
+redoubt while the divisions of Morand and Gerard were to advance\r
+simultaneously from the front.\r
+\r
+All this, like the other parts of the disposition, was not and could not\r
+be executed. After passing through Borodino the vice-King was driven\r
+back to the Kolocha and could get no farther; while the divisions of\r
+Morand and Gerard did not take the redoubt but were driven back, and the\r
+redoubt was only taken at the end of the battle by the cavalry (a thing\r
+probably unforeseen and not heard of by Napoleon). So not one of the\r
+orders in the disposition was, or could be, executed. But in the\r
+disposition it is said that, after the fight has commenced in this\r
+manner, orders will be given in accordance with the enemy's movements,\r
+and so it might be supposed that all necessary arrangements would be\r
+made by Napoleon during the battle. But this was not and could not be\r
+done, for during the whole battle Napoleon was so far away that, as\r
+appeared later, he could not know the course of the battle and not one\r
+of his orders during the fight could be executed.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXVIII\r
+\r
+Many historians say that the French did not win the battle of Borodino\r
+because Napoleon had a cold, and that if he had not had a cold the\r
+orders he gave before and during the battle would have been still more\r
+full of genius and Russia would have been lost and the face of the world\r
+have been changed. To historians who believe that Russia was shaped by\r
+the will of one man--Peter the Great--and that France from a republic\r
+became an empire and French armies went to Russia at the will of one\r
+man--Napoleon--to say that Russia remained a power because Napoleon had\r
+a bad cold on the twenty-fourth of August may seem logical and\r
+convincing.\r
+\r
+If it had depended on Napoleon's will to fight or not to fight the\r
+battle of Borodino, and if this or that other arrangement depended on\r
+his will, then evidently a cold affecting the manifestation of his will\r
+might have saved Russia, and consequently the valet who omitted to bring\r
+Napoleon his waterproof boots on the twenty-fourth would have been the\r
+savior of Russia. Along that line of thought such a deduction is\r
+indubitable, as indubitable as the deduction Voltaire made in jest\r
+(without knowing what he was jesting at) when he saw that the Massacre\r
+of St. Bartholomew was due to Charles IX's stomach being deranged. But\r
+to men who do not admit that Russia was formed by the will of one man,\r
+Peter I, or that the French Empire was formed and the war with Russia\r
+begun by the will of one man, Napoleon, that argument seems not merely\r
+untrue and irrational, but contrary to all human reality. To the\r
+question of what causes historic events another answer presents itself,\r
+namely, that the course of human events is predetermined from on high--\r
+depends on the coincidence of the wills of all who take part in the\r
+events, and that a Napoleon's influence on the course of these events is\r
+purely external and fictitious.\r
+\r
+Strange as at first glance it may seem to suppose that the Massacre of\r
+St. Bartholomew was not due to Charles IX's will, though he gave the\r
+order for it and thought it was done as a result of that order; and\r
+strange as it may seem to suppose that the slaughter of eighty thousand\r
+men at Borodino was not due to Napoleon's will, though he ordered the\r
+commencement and conduct of the battle and thought it was done because\r
+he ordered it; strange as these suppositions appear, yet human dignity--\r
+which tells me that each of us is, if not more at least not less a man\r
+than the great Napoleon--demands the acceptance of that solution of the\r
+question, and historic investigation abundantly confirms it.\r
+\r
+At the battle of Borodino Napoleon shot at no one and killed no one.\r
+That was all done by the soldiers. Therefore it was not he who killed\r
+people.\r
+\r
+The French soldiers went to kill and be killed at the battle of Borodino\r
+not because of Napoleon's orders but by their own volition. The whole\r
+army--French, Italian, German, Polish, and Dutch--hungry, ragged, and\r
+weary of the campaign, felt at the sight of an army blocking their road\r
+to Moscow that the wine was drawn and must be drunk. Had Napoleon then\r
+forbidden them to fight the Russians, they would have killed him and\r
+have proceeded to fight the Russians because it was inevitable.\r
+\r
+When they heard Napoleon's proclamation offering them, as compensation\r
+for mutilation and death, the words of posterity about their having been\r
+in the battle before Moscow, they cried "Vive l'Empereur!" just as they\r
+had cried "Vive l'Empereur!" at the sight of the portrait of the boy\r
+piercing the terrestrial globe with a toy stick, and just as they would\r
+have cried "Vive l'Empereur!" at any nonsense that might be told them.\r
+There was nothing left for them to do but cry "Vive l'Empereur!" and go\r
+to fight, in order to get food and rest as conquerors in Moscow. So it\r
+was not because of Napoleon's commands that they killed their fellow\r
+men.\r
+\r
+And it was not Napoleon who directed the course of the battle, for none\r
+of his orders were executed and during the battle he did not know what\r
+was going on before him. So the way in which these people killed one\r
+another was not decided by Napoleon's will but occurred independently of\r
+him, in accord with the will of hundreds of thousands of people who took\r
+part in the common action. It only seemed to Napoleon that it all took\r
+place by his will. And so the question whether he had or had not a cold\r
+has no more historic interest than the cold of the least of the\r
+transport soldiers.\r
+\r
+Moreover, the assertion made by various writers that his cold was the\r
+cause of his dispositions not being as well-planned as on former\r
+occasions, and of his orders during the battle not being as good as\r
+previously, is quite baseless, which again shows that Napoleon's cold on\r
+the twenty-sixth of August was unimportant.\r
+\r
+The dispositions cited above are not at all worse, but are even better,\r
+than previous dispositions by which he had won victories. His pseudo-\r
+orders during the battle were also no worse than formerly, but much the\r
+same as usual. These dispositions and orders only seem worse than\r
+previous ones because the battle of Borodino was the first Napoleon did\r
+not win. The profoundest and most excellent dispositions and orders seem\r
+very bad, and every learned militarist criticizes them with looks of\r
+importance, when they relate to a battle that has been lost, and the\r
+very worst dispositions and orders seem very good, and serious people\r
+fill whole volumes to demonstrate their merits, when they relate to a\r
+battle that has been won.\r
+\r
+The dispositions drawn up by Weyrother for the battle of Austerlitz were\r
+a model of perfection for that kind of composition, but still they were\r
+criticized--criticized for their very perfection, for their excessive\r
+minuteness.\r
+\r
+Napoleon at the battle of Borodino fulfilled his office as\r
+representative of authority as well as, and even better than, at other\r
+battles. He did nothing harmful to the progress of the battle; he\r
+inclined to the most reasonable opinions, he made no confusion, did not\r
+contradict himself, did not get frightened or run away from the field of\r
+battle, but with his great tact and military experience carried out his\r
+role of appearing to command, calmly and with dignity.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXIX\r
+\r
+On returning from a second inspection of the lines, Napoleon remarked:\r
+\r
+"The chessmen are set up, the game will begin tomorrow!"\r
+\r
+Having ordered punch and summoned de Beausset, he began to talk to him\r
+about Paris and about some changes he meant to make in the Empress'\r
+household, surprising the prefect by his memory of minute details\r
+relating to the court.\r
+\r
+He showed an interest in trifles, joked about de Beausset's love of\r
+travel, and chatted carelessly, as a famous, self-confident surgeon who\r
+knows his job does when turning up his sleeves and putting on his apron\r
+while a patient is being strapped to the operating table. "The matter is\r
+in my hands and is clear and definite in my head. When the time comes to\r
+set to work I shall do it as no one else could, but now I can jest, and\r
+the more I jest and the calmer I am the more tranquil and confident you\r
+ought to be, and the more amazed at my genius."\r
+\r
+Having finished his second glass of punch, Napoleon went to rest before\r
+the serious business which, he considered, awaited him next day. He was\r
+so much interested in that task that he was unable to sleep, and in\r
+spite of his cold which had grown worse from the dampness of the\r
+evening, he went into the large division of the tent at three o'clock in\r
+the morning, loudly blowing his nose. He asked whether the Russians had\r
+not withdrawn, and was told that the enemy's fires were still in the\r
+same places. He nodded approval.\r
+\r
+The adjutant in attendance came into the tent.\r
+\r
+"Well, Rapp, do you think we shall do good business today?" Napoleon\r
+asked him.\r
+\r
+"Without doubt, sire," replied Rapp.\r
+\r
+Napoleon looked at him.\r
+\r
+"Do you remember, sire, what you did me the honor to say at Smolensk?"\r
+continued Rapp. "The wine is drawn and must be drunk."\r
+\r
+Napoleon frowned and sat silent for a long time leaning his head on his\r
+hand.\r
+\r
+"This poor army!" he suddenly remarked. "It has diminished greatly since\r
+Smolensk. Fortune is frankly a courtesan, Rapp. I have always said so\r
+and I am beginning to experience it. But the Guards, Rapp, the Guards\r
+are intact?" he remarked interrogatively.\r
+\r
+"Yes, sire," replied Rapp.\r
+\r
+Napoleon took a lozenge, put it in his mouth, and glanced at his watch.\r
+He was not sleepy and it was still not nearly morning. It was impossible\r
+to give further orders for the sake of killing time, for the orders had\r
+all been given and were now being executed.\r
+\r
+"Have the biscuits and rice been served out to the regiments of the\r
+Guards?" asked Napoleon sternly.\r
+\r
+"Yes, sire."\r
+\r
+"The rice too?"\r
+\r
+Rapp replied that he had given the Emperor's order about the rice, but\r
+Napoleon shook his head in dissatisfaction as if not believing that his\r
+order had been executed. An attendant came in with punch. Napoleon\r
+ordered another glass to be brought for Rapp, and silently sipped his\r
+own.\r
+\r
+"I have neither taste nor smell," he remarked, sniffing at his glass.\r
+"This cold is tiresome. They talk about medicine--what is the good of\r
+medicine when it can't cure a cold! Corvisart gave me these lozenges but\r
+they don't help at all. What can doctors cure? One can't cure anything.\r
+Our body is a machine for living. It is organized for that, it is its\r
+nature. Let life go on in it unhindered and let it defend itself, it\r
+will do more than if you paralyze it by encumbering it with remedies.\r
+Our body is like a perfect watch that should go for a certain time; the\r
+watchmaker cannot open it, he can only adjust it by fumbling, and that\r
+blindfold.... Yes, our body is just a machine for living, that is all."\r
+\r
+And having entered on the path of definition, of which he was fond,\r
+Napoleon suddenly and unexpectedly gave a new one.\r
+\r
+"Do you know, Rapp, what military art is?" asked he. "It is the art of\r
+being stronger than the enemy at a given moment. That's all."\r
+\r
+Rapp made no reply.\r
+\r
+"Tomorrow we shall have to deal with Kutuzov!" said Napoleon. "We shall\r
+see! Do you remember at Braunau he commanded an army for three weeks and\r
+did not once mount a horse to inspect his entrenchments.... We shall\r
+see!"\r
+\r
+He looked at his watch. It was still only four o'clock. He did not feel\r
+sleepy. The punch was finished and there was still nothing to do. He\r
+rose, walked to and fro, put on a warm overcoat and a hat, and went out\r
+of the tent. The night was dark and damp, a scarcely perceptible\r
+moisture was descending from above. Near by, the campfires were dimly\r
+burning among the French Guards, and in the distance those of the\r
+Russian line shone through the smoke. The weather was calm, and the\r
+rustle and tramp of the French troops already beginning to move to take\r
+up their positions were clearly audible.\r
+\r
+Napoleon walked about in front of his tent, looked at the fires and\r
+listened to these sounds, and as he was passing a tall guardsman in a\r
+shaggy cap, who was standing sentinel before his tent and had drawn\r
+himself up like a black pillar at sight of the Emperor, Napoleon stopped\r
+in front of him.\r
+\r
+"What year did you enter the service?" he asked with that affectation of\r
+military bluntness and geniality with which he always addressed the\r
+soldiers.\r
+\r
+The man answered the question.\r
+\r
+"Ah! One of the old ones! Has your regiment had its rice?"\r
+\r
+"It has, Your Majesty."\r
+\r
+Napoleon nodded and walked away.\r
+\r
+At half-past five Napoleon rode to the village of Shevardino.\r
+\r
+It was growing light, the sky was clearing, only a single cloud lay in\r
+the east. The abandoned campfires were burning themselves out in the\r
+faint morning light.\r
+\r
+On the right a single deep report of a cannon resounded and died away in\r
+the prevailing silence. Some minutes passed. A second and a third report\r
+shook the air, then a fourth and a fifth boomed solemnly near by on the\r
+right.\r
+\r
+The first shots had not yet ceased to reverberate before others rang out\r
+and yet more were heard mingling with and overtaking one another.\r
+\r
+Napoleon with his suite rode up to the Shevardino Redoubt where he\r
+dismounted. The game had begun.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXX\r
+\r
+On returning to Gorki after having seen Prince Andrew, Pierre ordered\r
+his groom to get the horses ready and to call him early in the morning,\r
+and then immediately fell asleep behind a partition in a corner Boris\r
+had given up to him.\r
+\r
+Before he was thoroughly awake next morning everybody had already left\r
+the hut. The panes were rattling in the little windows and his groom was\r
+shaking him.\r
+\r
+"Your excellency! Your excellency! Your excellency!" he kept repeating\r
+pertinaciously while he shook Pierre by the shoulder without looking at\r
+him, having apparently lost hope of getting him to wake up.\r
+\r
+"What? Has it begun? Is it time?" Pierre asked, waking up.\r
+\r
+"Hear the firing," said the groom, a discharged soldier. "All the\r
+gentlemen have gone out, and his Serene Highness himself rode past long\r
+ago."\r
+\r
+Pierre dressed hastily and ran out to the porch. Outside all was bright,\r
+fresh, dewy, and cheerful. The sun, just bursting forth from behind a\r
+cloud that had concealed it, was shining, with rays still half broken by\r
+the clouds, over the roofs of the street opposite, on the dew-\r
+besprinkled dust of the road, on the walls of the houses, on the\r
+windows, the fence, and on Pierre's horses standing before the hut. The\r
+roar of guns sounded more distinct outside. An adjutant accompanied by a\r
+Cossack passed by at a sharp trot.\r
+\r
+"It's time, Count; it's time!" cried the adjutant.\r
+\r
+Telling the groom to follow him with the horses, Pierre went down the\r
+street to the knoll from which he had looked at the field of battle the\r
+day before. A crowd of military men was assembled there, members of the\r
+staff could be heard conversing in French, and Kutuzov's gray head in a\r
+white cap with a red band was visible, his gray nape sunk between his\r
+shoulders. He was looking through a field glass down the highroad before\r
+him.\r
+\r
+Mounting the steps to the knoll Pierre looked at the scene before him,\r
+spellbound by beauty. It was the same panorama he had admired from that\r
+spot the day before, but now the whole place was full of troops and\r
+covered by smoke clouds from the guns, and the slanting rays of the\r
+bright sun, rising slightly to the left behind Pierre, cast upon it\r
+through the clear morning air penetrating streaks of rosy, golden-tinted\r
+light and long dark shadows. The forest at the farthest extremity of the\r
+panorama seemed carved in some precious stone of a yellowish-green\r
+color; its undulating outline was silhouetted against the horizon and\r
+was pierced beyond Valuevo by the Smolensk highroad crowded with troops.\r
+Nearer at hand glittered golden cornfields interspersed with copses.\r
+There were troops to be seen everywhere, in front and to the right and\r
+left. All this was vivid, majestic, and unexpected; but what impressed\r
+Pierre most of all was the view of the battlefield itself, of Borodino\r
+and the hollows on both sides of the Kolocha.\r
+\r
+Above the Kolocha, in Borodino and on both sides of it, especially to\r
+the left where the Voyna flowing between its marshy banks falls into the\r
+Kolocha, a mist had spread which seemed to melt, to dissolve, and to\r
+become translucent when the brilliant sun appeared and magically colored\r
+and outlined everything. The smoke of the guns mingled with this mist,\r
+and over the whole expanse and through that mist the rays of the morning\r
+sun were reflected, flashing back like lightning from the water, from\r
+the dew, and from the bayonets of the troops crowded together by the\r
+riverbanks and in Borodino. A white church could be seen through the\r
+mist, and here and there the roofs of huts in Borodino as well as dense\r
+masses of soldiers, or green ammunition chests and ordnance. And all\r
+this moved, or seemed to move, as the smoke and mist spread out over the\r
+whole space. Just as in the mist-enveloped hollow near Borodino, so\r
+along the entire line outside and above it and especially in the woods\r
+and fields to the left, in the valleys and on the summits of the high\r
+ground, clouds of powder smoke seemed continually to spring up out of\r
+nothing, now singly, now several at a time, some translucent, others\r
+dense, which, swelling, growing, rolling, and blending, extended over\r
+the whole expanse.\r
+\r
+These puffs of smoke and (strange to say) the sound of the firing\r
+produced the chief beauty of the spectacle.\r
+\r
+"Puff!"--suddenly a round compact cloud of smoke was seen merging from\r
+violet into gray and milky white, and "boom!" came the report a second\r
+later.\r
+\r
+"Puff! puff!"--and two clouds arose pushing one another and blending\r
+together; and "boom, boom!" came the sounds confirming what the eye had\r
+seen.\r
+\r
+Pierre glanced round at the first cloud, which he had seen as a round\r
+compact ball, and in its place already were balloons of smoke floating\r
+to one side, and--"puff" (with a pause)--"puff, puff!" three and then\r
+four more appeared and then from each, with the same interval--"boom--\r
+boom, boom!" came the fine, firm, precise sounds in reply. It seemed as\r
+if those smoke clouds sometimes ran and sometimes stood still while\r
+woods, fields, and glittering bayonets ran past them. From the left,\r
+over fields and bushes, those large balls of smoke were continually\r
+appearing followed by their solemn reports, while nearer still, in the\r
+hollows and woods, there burst from the muskets small cloudlets that had\r
+no time to become balls, but had their little echoes in just the same\r
+way. "Trakh-ta-ta-takh!" came the frequent crackle of musketry, but it\r
+was irregular and feeble in comparison with the reports of the cannon.\r
+\r
+Pierre wished to be there with that smoke, those shining bayonets, that\r
+movement, and those sounds. He turned to look at Kutuzov and his suite,\r
+to compare his impressions with those of others. They were all looking\r
+at the field of battle as he was, and, as it seemed to him, with the\r
+same feelings. All their faces were now shining with that latent warmth\r
+of feeling Pierre had noticed the day before and had fully understood\r
+after his talk with Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+"Go, my dear fellow, go... and Christ be with you!" Kutuzov was saying\r
+to a general who stood beside him, not taking his eye from the\r
+battlefield.\r
+\r
+Having received this order the general passed by Pierre on his way down\r
+the knoll.\r
+\r
+"To the crossing!" said the general coldly and sternly in reply to one\r
+of the staff who asked where he was going.\r
+\r
+"I'll go there too, I too!" thought Pierre, and followed the general.\r
+\r
+The general mounted a horse a Cossack had brought him. Pierre went to\r
+his groom who was holding his horses and, asking which was the quietest,\r
+clambered onto it, seized it by the mane, and turning out his toes\r
+pressed his heels against its sides and, feeling that his spectacles\r
+were slipping off but unable to let go of the mane and reins, he\r
+galloped after the general, causing the staff officers to smile as they\r
+watched him from the knoll.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXXI\r
+\r
+Having descended the hill the general after whom Pierre was galloping\r
+turned sharply to the left, and Pierre, losing sight of him, galloped in\r
+among some ranks of infantry marching ahead of him. He tried to pass\r
+either in front of them or to the right or left, but there were soldiers\r
+everywhere, all with the same preoccupied expression and busy with some\r
+unseen but evidently important task. They all gazed with the same\r
+dissatisfied and inquiring expression at this stout man in a white hat,\r
+who for some unknown reason threatened to trample them under his horse's\r
+hoofs.\r
+\r
+"Why ride into the middle of the battalion?" one of them shouted at him.\r
+\r
+Another prodded his horse with the butt end of a musket, and Pierre,\r
+bending over his saddlebow and hardly able to control his shying horse,\r
+galloped ahead of the soldiers where there was a free space.\r
+\r
+There was a bridge ahead of him, where other soldiers stood firing.\r
+Pierre rode up to them. Without being aware of it he had come to the\r
+bridge across the Kolocha between Gorki and Borodino, which the French\r
+(having occupied Borodino) were attacking in the first phase of the\r
+battle. Pierre saw that there was a bridge in front of him and that\r
+soldiers were doing something on both sides of it and in the meadow,\r
+among the rows of new-mown hay which he had taken no notice of amid the\r
+smoke of the campfires the day before; but despite the incessant firing\r
+going on there he had no idea that this was the field of battle. He did\r
+not notice the sound of the bullets whistling from every side, or the\r
+projectiles that flew over him, did not see the enemy on the other side\r
+of the river, and for a long time did not notice the killed and wounded,\r
+though many fell near him. He looked about him with a smile which did\r
+not leave his face.\r
+\r
+"Why's that fellow in front of the line?" shouted somebody at him again.\r
+\r
+"To the left!... Keep to the right!" the men shouted to him.\r
+\r
+Pierre went to the right, and unexpectedly encountered one of Raevski's\r
+adjutants whom he knew. The adjutant looked angrily at him, evidently\r
+also intending to shout at him, but on recognizing him he nodded.\r
+\r
+"How have you got here?" he said, and galloped on.\r
+\r
+Pierre, feeling out of place there, having nothing to do, and afraid of\r
+getting in someone's way again, galloped after the adjutant.\r
+\r
+"What's happening here? May I come with you?" he asked.\r
+\r
+"One moment, one moment!" replied the adjutant, and riding up to a stout\r
+colonel who was standing in the meadow, he gave him some message and\r
+then addressed Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Why have you come here, Count?" he asked with a smile. "Still\r
+inquisitive?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes," assented Pierre.\r
+\r
+But the adjutant turned his horse about and rode on.\r
+\r
+"Here it's tolerable," said he, "but with Bagration on the left flank\r
+they're getting it frightfully hot."\r
+\r
+"Really?" said Pierre. "Where is that?"\r
+\r
+"Come along with me to our knoll. We can get a view from there and in\r
+our battery it is still bearable," said the adjutant. "Will you come?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, I'll come with you," replied Pierre, looking round for his groom.\r
+\r
+It was only now that he noticed wounded men staggering along or being\r
+carried on stretchers. On that very meadow he had ridden over the day\r
+before, a soldier was lying athwart the rows of scented hay, with his\r
+head thrown awkwardly back and his shako off.\r
+\r
+"Why haven't they carried him away?" Pierre was about to ask, but seeing\r
+the stern expression of the adjutant who was also looking that way, he\r
+checked himself.\r
+\r
+Pierre did not find his groom and rode along the hollow with the\r
+adjutant to Raevski's Redoubt. His horse lagged behind the adjutant's\r
+and jolted him at every step.\r
+\r
+"You don't seem to be used to riding, Count?" remarked the adjutant.\r
+\r
+"No it's not that, but her action seems so jerky," said Pierre in a\r
+puzzled tone.\r
+\r
+"Why... she's wounded!" said the adjutant. "In the off foreleg above the\r
+knee. A bullet, no doubt. I congratulate you, Count, on your baptism of\r
+fire!"\r
+\r
+Having ridden in the smoke past the Sixth Corps, behind the artillery\r
+which had been moved forward and was in action, deafening them with the\r
+noise of firing, they came to a small wood. There it was cool and quiet,\r
+with a scent of autumn. Pierre and the adjutant dismounted and walked up\r
+the hill on foot.\r
+\r
+"Is the general here?" asked the adjutant on reaching the knoll.\r
+\r
+"He was here a minute ago but has just gone that way," someone told him,\r
+pointing to the right.\r
+\r
+The adjutant looked at Pierre as if puzzled what to do with him now.\r
+\r
+"Don't trouble about me," said Pierre. "I'll go up onto the knoll if I\r
+may?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, do. You'll see everything from there and it's less dangerous, and\r
+I'll come for you."\r
+\r
+Pierre went to the battery and the adjutant rode on. They did not meet\r
+again, and only much later did Pierre learn that he lost an arm that\r
+day.\r
+\r
+The knoll to which Pierre ascended was that famous one afterwards known\r
+to the Russians as the Knoll Battery or Raevski's Redoubt, and to the\r
+French as la grande redoute, la fatale redoute, la redoute du centre,\r
+around which tens of thousands fell, and which the French regarded as\r
+the key to the whole position.\r
+\r
+This redoubt consisted of a knoll, on three sides of which trenches had\r
+been dug. Within the entrenchment stood ten guns that were being fired\r
+through openings in the earthwork.\r
+\r
+In line with the knoll on both sides stood other guns which also fired\r
+incessantly. A little behind the guns stood infantry. When ascending\r
+that knoll Pierre had no notion that this spot, on which small trenches\r
+had been dug and from which a few guns were firing, was the most\r
+important point of the battle.\r
+\r
+On the contrary, just because he happened to be there he thought it one\r
+of the least significant parts of the field.\r
+\r
+Having reached the knoll, Pierre sat down at one end of a trench\r
+surrounding the battery and gazed at what was going on around him with\r
+an unconsciously happy smile. Occasionally he rose and walked about the\r
+battery still with that same smile, trying not to obstruct the soldiers\r
+who were loading, hauling the guns, and continually running past him\r
+with bags and charges. The guns of that battery were being fired\r
+continually one after another with a deafening roar, enveloping the\r
+whole neighborhood in powder smoke.\r
+\r
+In contrast with the dread felt by the infantrymen placed in support,\r
+here in the battery where a small number of men busy at their work were\r
+separated from the rest by a trench, everyone experienced a common and\r
+as it were family feeling of animation.\r
+\r
+The intrusion of Pierre's nonmilitary figure in a white hat made an\r
+unpleasant impression at first. The soldiers looked askance at him with\r
+surprise and even alarm as they went past him. The senior artillery\r
+officer, a tall, long-legged, pockmarked man, moved over to Pierre as if\r
+to see the action of the farthest gun and looked at him with curiosity.\r
+\r
+A young round-faced officer, quite a boy still and evidently only just\r
+out of the Cadet College, who was zealously commanding the two guns\r
+entrusted to him, addressed Pierre sternly.\r
+\r
+"Sir," he said, "permit me to ask you to stand aside. You must not be\r
+here."\r
+\r
+The soldiers shook their heads disapprovingly as they looked at Pierre.\r
+But when they had convinced themselves that this man in the white hat\r
+was doing no harm, but either sat quietly on the slope of the trench\r
+with a shy smile or, politely making way for the soldiers, paced up and\r
+down the battery under fire as calmly as if he were on a boulevard,\r
+their feeling of hostile distrust gradually began to change into a\r
+kindly and bantering sympathy, such as soldiers feel for their dogs,\r
+cocks, goats, and in general for the animals that live with the\r
+regiment. The men soon accepted Pierre into their family, adopted him,\r
+gave him a nickname ("our gentleman"), and made kindly fun of him among\r
+themselves.\r
+\r
+A shell tore up the earth two paces from Pierre and he looked around\r
+with a smile as he brushed from his clothes some earth it had thrown up.\r
+\r
+"And how's it you're not afraid, sir, really now?" a red-faced, broad-\r
+shouldered soldier asked Pierre, with a grin that disclosed a set of\r
+sound, white teeth.\r
+\r
+"Are you afraid, then?" said Pierre.\r
+\r
+"What else do you expect?" answered the soldier. "She has no mercy, you\r
+know! When she comes spluttering down, out go your innards. One can't\r
+help being afraid," he said laughing.\r
+\r
+Several of the men, with bright kindly faces, stopped beside Pierre.\r
+They seemed not to have expected him to talk like anybody else, and the\r
+discovery that he did so delighted them.\r
+\r
+"It's the business of us soldiers. But in a gentleman it's wonderful!\r
+There's a gentleman for you!"\r
+\r
+"To your places!" cried the young officer to the men gathered round\r
+Pierre.\r
+\r
+The young officer was evidently exercising his duties for the first or\r
+second time and therefore treated both his superiors and the men with\r
+great precision and formality.\r
+\r
+The booming cannonade and the fusillade of musketry were growing more\r
+intense over the whole field, especially to the left where Bagration's\r
+fleches were, but where Pierre was the smoke of the firing made it\r
+almost impossible to distinguish anything. Moreover, his whole attention\r
+was engrossed by watching the family circle--separated from all else--\r
+formed by the men in the battery. His first unconscious feeling of\r
+joyful animation produced by the sights and sounds of the battlefield\r
+was now replaced by another, especially since he had seen that soldier\r
+lying alone in the hayfield. Now, seated on the slope of the trench, he\r
+observed the faces of those around him.\r
+\r
+By ten o'clock some twenty men had already been carried away from the\r
+battery; two guns were smashed and cannon balls fell more and more\r
+frequently on the battery and spent bullets buzzed and whistled around.\r
+But the men in the battery seemed not to notice this, and merry voices\r
+and jokes were heard on all sides.\r
+\r
+"A live one!" shouted a man as a whistling shell approached.\r
+\r
+"Not this way! To the infantry!" added another with loud laughter,\r
+seeing the shell fly past and fall into the ranks of the supports.\r
+\r
+"Are you bowing to a friend, eh?" remarked another, chaffing a peasant\r
+who ducked low as a cannon ball flew over.\r
+\r
+Several soldiers gathered by the wall of the trench, looking out to see\r
+what was happening in front.\r
+\r
+"They've withdrawn the front line, it has retired," said they, pointing\r
+over the earthwork.\r
+\r
+"Mind your own business," an old sergeant shouted at them. "If they've\r
+retired it's because there's work for them to do farther back."\r
+\r
+And the sergeant, taking one of the men by the shoulders, gave him a\r
+shove with his knee. This was followed by a burst of laughter.\r
+\r
+"To the fifth gun, wheel it up!" came shouts from one side.\r
+\r
+"Now then, all together, like bargees!" rose the merry voices of those\r
+who were moving the gun.\r
+\r
+"Oh, she nearly knocked our gentleman's hat off!" cried the red-faced\r
+humorist, showing his teeth chaffing Pierre. "Awkward baggage!" he added\r
+reproachfully to a cannon ball that struck a cannon wheel and a man's\r
+leg.\r
+\r
+"Now then, you foxes!" said another, laughing at some militiamen who,\r
+stooping low, entered the battery to carry away the wounded man.\r
+\r
+"So this gruel isn't to your taste? Oh, you crows! You're scared!" they\r
+shouted at the militiamen who stood hesitating before the man whose leg\r
+had been torn off.\r
+\r
+"There, lads... oh, oh!" they mimicked the peasants, "they don't like it\r
+at all!"\r
+\r
+Pierre noticed that after every ball that hit the redoubt, and after\r
+every loss, the liveliness increased more and more.\r
+\r
+As the flames of the fire hidden within come more and more vividly and\r
+rapidly from an approaching thundercloud, so, as if in opposition to\r
+what was taking place, the lightning of hidden fire growing more and\r
+more intense glowed in the faces of these men.\r
+\r
+Pierre did not look out at the battlefield and was not concerned to know\r
+what was happening there; he was entirely absorbed in watching this fire\r
+which burned ever more brightly and which he felt was flaming up in the\r
+same way in his own soul.\r
+\r
+At ten o'clock the infantry that had been among the bushes in front of\r
+the battery and along the Kamenka streamlet retreated. From the battery\r
+they could be seen running back past it carrying their wounded on their\r
+muskets. A general with his suite came to the battery, and after\r
+speaking to the colonel gave Pierre an angry look and went away again\r
+having ordered the infantry supports behind the battery to lie down, so\r
+as to be less exposed to fire. After this from amid the ranks of\r
+infantry to the right of the battery came the sound of a drum and shouts\r
+of command, and from the battery one saw how those ranks of infantry\r
+moved forward.\r
+\r
+Pierre looked over the wall of the trench and was particularly struck by\r
+a pale young officer who, letting his sword hang down, was walking\r
+backwards and kept glancing uneasily around.\r
+\r
+The ranks of the infantry disappeared amid the smoke but their long-\r
+drawn shout and rapid musketry firing could still be heard. A few\r
+minutes later crowds of wounded men and stretcher-bearers came back from\r
+that direction. Projectiles began to fall still more frequently in the\r
+battery. Several men were lying about who had not been removed. Around\r
+the cannon the men moved still more briskly and busily. No one any\r
+longer took notice of Pierre. Once or twice he was shouted at for being\r
+in the way. The senior officer moved with big, rapid strides from one\r
+gun to another with a frowning face. The young officer, with his face\r
+still more flushed, commanded the men more scrupulously than ever. The\r
+soldiers handed up the charges, turned, loaded, and did their business\r
+with strained smartness. They gave little jumps as they walked, as\r
+though they were on springs.\r
+\r
+The stormcloud had come upon them, and in every face the fire which\r
+Pierre had watched kindle burned up brightly. Pierre standing beside the\r
+commanding officer. The young officer, his hand to his shako, ran up to\r
+his superior.\r
+\r
+"I have the honor to report, sir, that only eight rounds are left. Are\r
+we to continue firing?" he asked.\r
+\r
+"Grapeshot!" the senior shouted, without answering the question, looking\r
+over the wall of the trench.\r
+\r
+Suddenly something happened: the young officer gave a gasp and bending\r
+double sat down on the ground like a bird shot on the wing. Everything\r
+became strange, confused, and misty in Pierre's eyes.\r
+\r
+One cannon ball after another whistled by and struck the earthwork, a\r
+soldier, or a gun. Pierre, who had not noticed these sounds before, now\r
+heard nothing else. On the right of the battery soldiers shouting\r
+"Hurrah!" were running not forwards but backwards, it seemed to Pierre.\r
+\r
+A cannon ball struck the very end of the earth work by which he was\r
+standing, crumbling down the earth; a black ball flashed before his eyes\r
+and at the same instant plumped into something. Some militiamen who were\r
+entering the battery ran back.\r
+\r
+"All with grapeshot!" shouted the officer.\r
+\r
+The sergeant ran up to the officer and in a frightened whisper informed\r
+him (as a butler at dinner informs his master that there is no more of\r
+some wine asked for) that there were no more charges.\r
+\r
+"The scoundrels! What are they doing?" shouted the officer, turning to\r
+Pierre.\r
+\r
+The officer's face was red and perspiring and his eyes glittered under\r
+his frowning brow.\r
+\r
+"Run to the reserves and bring up the ammunition boxes!" he yelled,\r
+angrily avoiding Pierre with his eyes and speaking to his men.\r
+\r
+"I'll go," said Pierre.\r
+\r
+The officer, without answering him, strode across to the opposite side.\r
+\r
+"Don't fire.... Wait!" he shouted.\r
+\r
+The man who had been ordered to go for ammunition stumbled against\r
+Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Eh, sir, this is no place for you," said he, and ran down the slope.\r
+\r
+Pierre ran after him, avoiding the spot where the young officer was\r
+sitting.\r
+\r
+One cannon ball, another, and a third flew over him, falling in front,\r
+beside, and behind him. Pierre ran down the slope. "Where am I going?"\r
+he suddenly asked himself when he was already near the green ammunition\r
+wagons. He halted irresolutely, not knowing whether to return or go on.\r
+Suddenly a terrible concussion threw him backwards to the ground. At the\r
+same instant he was dazzled by a great flash of flame, and immediately a\r
+deafening roar, crackling, and whistling made his ears tingle.\r
+\r
+When he came to himself he was sitting on the ground leaning on his\r
+hands; the ammunition wagons he had been approaching no longer existed,\r
+only charred green boards and rags littered the scorched grass, and a\r
+horse, dangling fragments of its shaft behind it, galloped past, while\r
+another horse lay, like Pierre, on the ground, uttering prolonged and\r
+piercing cries.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXXII\r
+\r
+Beside himself with terror Pierre jumped up and ran back to the battery,\r
+as to the only refuge from the horrors that surrounded him.\r
+\r
+On entering the earthwork he noticed that there were men doing something\r
+there but that no shots were being fired from the battery. He had no\r
+time to realize who these men were. He saw the senior officer lying on\r
+the earth wall with his back turned as if he were examining something\r
+down below and that one of the soldiers he had noticed before was\r
+struggling forward shouting "Brothers!" and trying to free himself from\r
+some men who were holding him by the arm. He also saw something else\r
+that was strange.\r
+\r
+But he had not time to realize that the colonel had been killed, that\r
+the soldier shouting "Brothers!" was a prisoner, and that another man\r
+had been bayoneted in the back before his eyes, for hardly had he run\r
+into the redoubt before a thin, sallow-faced, perspiring man in a blue\r
+uniform rushed on him sword in hand, shouting something. Instinctively\r
+guarding against the shock--for they had been running together at full\r
+speed before they saw one another--Pierre put out his hands and seized\r
+the man (a French officer) by the shoulder with one hand and by the\r
+throat with the other. The officer, dropping his sword, seized Pierre by\r
+his collar.\r
+\r
+For some seconds they gazed with frightened eyes at one another's\r
+unfamiliar faces and both were perplexed at what they had done and what\r
+they were to do next. "Am I taken prisoner or have I taken him\r
+prisoner?" each was thinking. But the French officer was evidently more\r
+inclined to think he had been taken prisoner because Pierre's strong\r
+hand, impelled by instinctive fear, squeezed his throat ever tighter and\r
+tighter. The Frenchman was about to say something, when just above their\r
+heads, terrible and low, a cannon ball whistled, and it seemed to Pierre\r
+that the French officer's head had been torn off, so swiftly had he\r
+ducked it.\r
+\r
+Pierre too bent his head and let his hands fall. Without further thought\r
+as to who had taken whom prisoner, the Frenchman ran back to the battery\r
+and Pierre ran down the slope stumbling over the dead and wounded who,\r
+it seemed to him, caught at his feet. But before he reached the foot of\r
+the knoll he was met by a dense crowd of Russian soldiers who,\r
+stumbling, tripping up, and shouting, ran merrily and wildly toward the\r
+battery. (This was the attack for which Ermolov claimed the credit,\r
+declaring that only his courage and good luck made such a feat possible:\r
+it was the attack in which he was said to have thrown some St. George's\r
+Crosses he had in his pocket into the battery for the first soldiers to\r
+take who got there.)\r
+\r
+The French who had occupied the battery fled, and our troops shouting\r
+"Hurrah!" pursued them so far beyond the battery that it was difficult\r
+to call them back.\r
+\r
+The prisoners were brought down from the battery and among them was a\r
+wounded French general, whom the officers surrounded. Crowds of wounded-\r
+-some known to Pierre and some unknown--Russians and French, with faces\r
+distorted by suffering, walked, crawled, and were carried on stretchers\r
+from the battery. Pierre again went up onto the knoll where he had spent\r
+over an hour, and of that family circle which had received him as a\r
+member he did not find a single one. There were many dead whom he did\r
+not know, but some he recognized. The young officer still sat in the\r
+same way, bent double, in a pool of blood at the edge of the earth wall.\r
+The red-faced man was still twitching, but they did not carry him away.\r
+\r
+Pierre ran down the slope once more.\r
+\r
+"Now they will stop it, now they will be horrified at what they have\r
+done!" he thought, aimlessly going toward a crowd of stretcher bearers\r
+moving from the battlefield.\r
+\r
+But behind the veil of smoke the sun was still high, and in front and\r
+especially to the left, near Semenovsk, something seemed to be seething\r
+in the smoke, and the roar of cannon and musketry did not diminish, but\r
+even increased to desperation like a man who, straining himself, shrieks\r
+with all his remaining strength.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXXIII\r
+\r
+The chief action of the battle of Borodino was fought within the seven\r
+thousand feet between Borodino and Bagration's fleches. Beyond that\r
+space there was, on the one side, a demonstration made by the Russians\r
+with Uvarov's cavalry at midday, and on the other side, beyond Utitsa,\r
+Poniatowski's collision with Tuchkov; but these two were detached and\r
+feeble actions in comparison with what took place in the center of the\r
+battlefield. On the field between Borodino and the fleches, beside the\r
+wood, the chief action of the day took place on an open space visible\r
+from both sides and was fought in the simplest and most artless way.\r
+\r
+The battle began on both sides with a cannonade from several hundred\r
+guns.\r
+\r
+Then when the whole field was covered with smoke, two divisions,\r
+Campan's and Dessaix's, advanced from the French right, while Murat's\r
+troops advanced on Borodino from their left.\r
+\r
+From the Shevardino Redoubt where Napoleon was standing the fleches were\r
+two thirds of a mile away, and it was more than a mile as the crow flies\r
+to Borodino, so that Napoleon could not see what was happening there,\r
+especially as the smoke mingling with the mist hid the whole locality.\r
+The soldiers of Dessaix's division advancing against the fleches could\r
+only be seen till they had entered the hollow that lay between them and\r
+the fleches. As soon as they had descended into that hollow, the smoke\r
+of the guns and musketry on the fleches grew so dense that it covered\r
+the whole approach on that side of it. Through the smoke glimpses could\r
+be caught of something black--probably men--and at times the glint of\r
+bayonets. But whether they were moving or stationary, whether they were\r
+French or Russian, could not be discovered from the Shevardino Redoubt.\r
+\r
+The sun had risen brightly and its slanting rays struck straight into\r
+Napoleon's face as, shading his eyes with his hand, he looked at the\r
+fleches. The smoke spread out before them, and at times it looked as if\r
+the smoke were moving, at times as if the troops moved. Sometimes shouts\r
+were heard through the firing, but it was impossible to tell what was\r
+being done there.\r
+\r
+Napoleon, standing on the knoll, looked through a field glass, and in\r
+its small circlet saw smoke and men, sometimes his own and sometimes\r
+Russians, but when he looked again with the naked eye, he could not tell\r
+where what he had seen was.\r
+\r
+He descended the knoll and began walking up and down before it.\r
+\r
+Occasionally he stopped, listened to the firing, and gazed intently at\r
+the battlefield.\r
+\r
+But not only was it impossible to make out what was happening from where\r
+he was standing down below, or from the knoll above on which some of his\r
+generals had taken their stand, but even from the fleches themselves--in\r
+which by this time there were now Russian and now French soldiers,\r
+alternately or together, dead, wounded, alive, frightened, or maddened--\r
+even at those fleches themselves it was impossible to make out what was\r
+taking place. There for several hours amid incessant cannon and musketry\r
+fire, now Russians were seen alone, now Frenchmen alone, now infantry,\r
+and now cavalry: they appeared, fired, fell, collided, not knowing what\r
+to do with one another, screamed, and ran back again.\r
+\r
+From the battlefield adjutants he had sent out, and orderlies from his\r
+marshals, kept galloping up to Napoleon with reports of the progress of\r
+the action, but all these reports were false, both because it was\r
+impossible in the heat of battle to say what was happening at any given\r
+moment and because many of the adjutants did not go to the actual place\r
+of conflict but reported what they had heard from others; and also\r
+because while an adjutant was riding more than a mile to Napoleon\r
+circumstances changed and the news he brought was already becoming\r
+false. Thus an adjutant galloped up from Murat with tidings that\r
+Borodino had been occupied and the bridge over the Kolocha was in the\r
+hands of the French. The adjutant asked whether Napoleon wished the\r
+troops to cross it? Napoleon gave orders that the troops should form up\r
+on the farther side and wait. But before that order was given--almost as\r
+soon in fact as the adjutant had left Borodino--the bridge had been\r
+retaken by the Russians and burned, in the very skirmish at which Pierre\r
+had been present at the beginning of the battle.\r
+\r
+An adjutant galloped up from the fleches with a pale and frightened face\r
+and reported to Napoleon that their attack had been repulsed, Campan\r
+wounded, and Davout killed; yet at the very time the adjutant had been\r
+told that the French had been repulsed, the fleches had in fact been\r
+recaptured by other French troops, and Davout was alive and only\r
+slightly bruised. On the basis of these necessarily untrustworthy\r
+reports Napoleon gave his orders, which had either been executed before\r
+he gave them or could not be and were not executed.\r
+\r
+The marshals and generals, who were nearer to the field of battle but,\r
+like Napoleon, did not take part in the actual fighting and only\r
+occasionally went within musket range, made their own arrangements\r
+without asking Napoleon and issued orders where and in what direction to\r
+fire and where cavalry should gallop and infantry should run. But even\r
+their orders, like Napoleon's, were seldom carried out, and then but\r
+partially. For the most part things happened contrary to their orders.\r
+Soldiers ordered to advance ran back on meeting grapeshot; soldiers\r
+ordered to remain where they were, suddenly, seeing Russians\r
+unexpectedly before them, sometimes rushed back and sometimes forward,\r
+and the cavalry dashed without orders in pursuit of the flying Russians.\r
+In this way two cavalry regiments galloped through the Semenovsk hollow\r
+and as soon as they reached the top of the incline turned round and\r
+galloped full speed back again. The infantry moved in the same way,\r
+sometimes running to quite other places than those they were ordered to\r
+go to. All orders as to where and when to move the guns, when to send\r
+infantry to shoot or horsemen to ride down the Russian infantry--all\r
+such orders were given by the officers on the spot nearest to the units\r
+concerned, without asking either Ney, Davout, or Murat, much less\r
+Napoleon. They did not fear getting into trouble for not fulfilling\r
+orders or for acting on their own initiative, for in battle what is at\r
+stake is what is dearest to man--his own life--and it sometimes seems\r
+that safety lies in running back, sometimes in running forward; and\r
+these men who were right in the heat of the battle acted according to\r
+the mood of the moment. In reality, however, all these movements forward\r
+and backward did not improve or alter the position of the troops. All\r
+their rushing and galloping at one another did little harm, the harm of\r
+disablement and death was caused by the balls and bullets that flew over\r
+the fields on which these men were floundering about. As soon as they\r
+left the place where the balls and bullets were flying about, their\r
+superiors, located in the background, re-formed them and brought them\r
+under discipline and under the influence of that discipline led them\r
+back to the zone of fire, where under the influence of fear of death\r
+they lost their discipline and rushed about according to the chance\r
+promptings of the throng.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXXIV\r
+\r
+Napoleon's generals--Davout, Ney, and Murat, who were near that region\r
+of fire and sometimes even entered it--repeatedly led into it huge\r
+masses of well-ordered troops. But contrary to what had always happened\r
+in their former battles, instead of the news they expected of the\r
+enemy's flight, these orderly masses returned thence as disorganized and\r
+terrified mobs. The generals re-formed them, but their numbers\r
+constantly decreased. In the middle of the day Murat sent his adjutant\r
+to Napoleon to demand reinforcements.\r
+\r
+Napoleon sat at the foot of the knoll, drinking punch, when Murat's\r
+adjutant galloped up with an assurance that the Russians would be routed\r
+if His Majesty would let him have another division.\r
+\r
+"Reinforcements?" said Napoleon in a tone of stern surprise, looking at\r
+the adjutant--a handsome lad with long black curls arranged like Murat's\r
+own--as though he did not understand his words.\r
+\r
+"Reinforcements!" thought Napoleon to himself. "How can they need\r
+reinforcements when they already have half the army directed against a\r
+weak, unentrenched Russian wing?"\r
+\r
+"Tell the King of Naples," said he sternly, "that it is not noon yet,\r
+and I don't yet see my chessboard clearly. Go!..."\r
+\r
+The handsome boy adjutant with the long hair sighed deeply without\r
+removing his hand from his hat and galloped back to where men were being\r
+slaughtered.\r
+\r
+Napoleon rose and having summoned Caulaincourt and Berthier began\r
+talking to them about matters unconnected with the battle.\r
+\r
+In the midst of this conversation, which was beginning to interest\r
+Napoleon, Berthier's eyes turned to look at a general with a suite, who\r
+was galloping toward the knoll on a lathering horse. It was Belliard.\r
+Having dismounted he went up to the Emperor with rapid strides and in a\r
+loud voice began boldly demonstrating the necessity of sending\r
+reinforcements. He swore on his honor that the Russians were lost if the\r
+Emperor would give another division.\r
+\r
+Napoleon shrugged his shoulders and continued to pace up and down\r
+without replying. Belliard began talking loudly and eagerly to the\r
+generals of the suite around him.\r
+\r
+"You are very fiery, Belliard," said Napoleon, when he again came up to\r
+the general. "In the heat of a battle it is easy to make a mistake. Go\r
+and have another look and then come back to me."\r
+\r
+Before Belliard was out of sight, a messenger from another part of the\r
+battlefield galloped up.\r
+\r
+"Now then, what do you want?" asked Napoleon in the tone of a man\r
+irritated at being continually disturbed.\r
+\r
+"Sire, the prince..." began the adjutant.\r
+\r
+"Asks for reinforcements?" said Napoleon with an angry gesture.\r
+\r
+The adjutant bent his head affirmatively and began to report, but the\r
+Emperor turned from him, took a couple of steps, stopped, came back, and\r
+called Berthier.\r
+\r
+"We must give reserves," he said, moving his arms slightly apart. "Who\r
+do you think should be sent there?" he asked of Berthier (whom he\r
+subsequently termed "that gosling I have made an eagle").\r
+\r
+"Send Claparede's division, sire," replied Berthier, who knew all the\r
+division's regiments, and battalions by heart.\r
+\r
+Napoleon nodded assent.\r
+\r
+The adjutant galloped to Claparede's division and a few minutes later\r
+the Young Guards stationed behind the knoll moved forward. Napoleon\r
+gazed silently in that direction.\r
+\r
+"No!" he suddenly said to Berthier. "I can't send Claparede. Send\r
+Friant's division."\r
+\r
+Though there was no advantage in sending Friant's division instead of\r
+Claparede's, and even an obvious inconvenience and delay in stopping\r
+Claparede and sending Friant now, the order was carried out exactly.\r
+Napoleon did not notice that in regard to his army he was playing the\r
+part of a doctor who hinders by his medicines--a role he so justly\r
+understood and condemned.\r
+\r
+Friant's division disappeared as the others had done into the smoke of\r
+the battlefield. From all sides adjutants continued to arrive at a\r
+gallop and as if by agreement all said the same thing. They all asked\r
+for reinforcements and all said that the Russians were holding their\r
+positions and maintaining a hellish fire under which the French army was\r
+melting away.\r
+\r
+Napoleon sat on a campstool, wrapped in thought.\r
+\r
+M. de Beausset, the man so fond of travel, having fasted since morning,\r
+came up to the Emperor and ventured respectfully to suggest lunch to His\r
+Majesty.\r
+\r
+"I hope I may now congratulate Your Majesty on a victory?" said he.\r
+\r
+Napoleon silently shook his head in negation. Assuming the negation to\r
+refer only to the victory and not to the lunch, M. de Beausset ventured\r
+with respectful jocularity to remark that there is no reason for not\r
+having lunch when one can get it.\r
+\r
+"Go away..." exclaimed Napoleon suddenly and morosely, and turned aside.\r
+\r
+A beatific smile of regret, repentance, and ecstasy beamed on M. de\r
+Beausset's face and he glided away to the other generals.\r
+\r
+Napoleon was experiencing a feeling of depression like that of an ever-\r
+lucky gambler who, after recklessly flinging money about and always\r
+winning, suddenly just when he has calculated all the chances of the\r
+game, finds that the more he considers his play the more surely he\r
+loses.\r
+\r
+His troops were the same, his generals the same, the same preparations\r
+had been made, the same dispositions, and the same proclamation courte\r
+et energique, he himself was still the same: he knew that and knew that\r
+he was now even more experienced and skillful than before. Even the\r
+enemy was the same as at Austerlitz and Friedland--yet the terrible\r
+stroke of his arm had supernaturally become impotent.\r
+\r
+All the old methods that had been unfailingly crowned with success: the\r
+concentration of batteries on one point, an attack by reserves to break\r
+the enemy's line, and a cavalry attack by "the men of iron," all these\r
+methods had already been employed, yet not only was there no victory,\r
+but from all sides came the same news of generals killed and wounded, of\r
+reinforcements needed, of the impossibility of driving back the\r
+Russians, and of disorganization among his own troops.\r
+\r
+Formerly, after he had given two or three orders and uttered a few\r
+phrases, marshals and adjutants had come galloping up with\r
+congratulations and happy faces, announcing the trophies taken, the\r
+corps of prisoners, bundles of enemy eagles and standards, cannon and\r
+stores, and Murat had only begged leave to loose the cavalry to gather\r
+in the baggage wagons. So it had been at Lodi, Marengo, Arcola, Jena,\r
+Austerlitz, Wagram, and so on. But now something strange was happening\r
+to his troops.\r
+\r
+Despite news of the capture of the fleches, Napoleon saw that this was\r
+not the same, not at all the same, as what had happened in his former\r
+battles. He saw that what he was feeling was felt by all the men about\r
+him experienced in the art of war. All their faces looked dejected, and\r
+they all shunned one another's eyes--only a de Beausset could fail to\r
+grasp the meaning of what was happening.\r
+\r
+But Napoleon with his long experience of war well knew the meaning of a\r
+battle not gained by the attacking side in eight hours, after all\r
+efforts had been expended. He knew that it was a lost battle and that\r
+the least accident might now--with the fight balanced on such a strained\r
+center--destroy him and his army.\r
+\r
+When he ran his mind over the whole of this strange Russian campaign in\r
+which not one battle had been won, and in which not a flag, or cannon,\r
+or army corps had been captured in two months, when he looked at the\r
+concealed depression on the faces around him and heard reports of the\r
+Russians still holding their ground--a terrible feeling like a nightmare\r
+took possession of him, and all the unlucky accidents that might destroy\r
+him occurred to his mind. The Russians might fall on his left wing,\r
+might break through his center, he himself might be killed by a stray\r
+cannon ball. All this was possible. In former battles he had only\r
+considered the possibilities of success, but now innumerable unlucky\r
+chances presented themselves, and he expected them all. Yes, it was like\r
+a dream in which a man fancies that a ruffian is coming to attack him,\r
+and raises his arm to strike that ruffian a terrible blow which he knows\r
+should annihilate him, but then feels that his arm drops powerless and\r
+limp like a rag, and the horror of unavoidable destruction seizes him in\r
+his helplessness.\r
+\r
+The news that the Russians were attacking the left flank of the French\r
+army aroused that horror in Napoleon. He sat silently on a campstool\r
+below the knoll, with head bowed and elbows on his knees. Berthier\r
+approached and suggested that they should ride along the line to\r
+ascertain the position of affairs.\r
+\r
+"What? What do you say?" asked Napoleon. "Yes, tell them to bring me my\r
+horse."\r
+\r
+He mounted and rode toward Semenovsk.\r
+\r
+Amid the powder smoke, slowly dispersing over the whole space through\r
+which Napoleon rode, horses and men were lying in pools of blood, singly\r
+or in heaps. Neither Napoleon nor any of his generals had ever before\r
+seen such horrors or so many slain in such a small area. The roar of\r
+guns, that had not ceased for ten hours, wearied the ear and gave a\r
+peculiar significance to the spectacle, as music does to tableaux\r
+vivants. Napoleon rode up the high ground at Semenovsk, and through the\r
+smoke saw ranks of men in uniforms of a color unfamiliar to him. They\r
+were Russians.\r
+\r
+The Russians stood in serried ranks behind Semenovsk village and its\r
+knoll, and their guns boomed incessantly along their line and sent forth\r
+clouds of smoke. It was no longer a battle: it was a continuous\r
+slaughter which could be of no avail either to the French or the\r
+Russians. Napoleon stopped his horse and again fell into the reverie\r
+from which Berthier had aroused him. He could not stop what was going on\r
+before him and around him and was supposed to be directed by him and to\r
+depend on him, and from its lack of success this affair, for the first\r
+time, seemed to him unnecessary and horrible.\r
+\r
+One of the generals rode up to Napoleon and ventured to offer to lead\r
+the Old Guard into action. Ney and Berthier, standing near Napoleon,\r
+exchanged looks and smiled contemptuously at this general's senseless\r
+offer.\r
+\r
+Napoleon bowed his head and remained silent a long time.\r
+\r
+"At eight hundred leagues from France, I will not have my Guard\r
+destroyed!" he said, and turning his horse rode back to Shevardino.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXXV\r
+\r
+On the rug-covered bench where Pierre had seen him in the morning sat\r
+Kutuzov, his gray head hanging, his heavy body relaxed. He gave no\r
+orders, but only assented to or dissented from what others suggested.\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes, do that," he replied to various proposals. "Yes, yes: go,\r
+dear boy, and have a look," he would say to one or another of those\r
+about him; or, "No, don't, we'd better wait!" He listened to the reports\r
+that were brought him and gave directions when his subordinates demanded\r
+that of him; but when listening to the reports it seemed as if he were\r
+not interested in the import of the words spoken, but rather in\r
+something else--in the expression of face and tone of voice of those who\r
+were reporting. By long years of military experience he knew, and with\r
+the wisdom of age understood, that it is impossible for one man to\r
+direct hundreds of thousands of others struggling with death, and he\r
+knew that the result of a battle is decided not by the orders of a\r
+commander-in-chief, nor the place where the troops are stationed, nor by\r
+the number of cannon or of slaughtered men, but by that intangible force\r
+called the spirit of the army, and he watched this force and guided it\r
+in as far as that was in his power.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov's general expression was one of concentrated quiet attention,\r
+and his face wore a strained look as if he found it difficult to master\r
+the fatigue of his old and feeble body.\r
+\r
+At eleven o'clock they brought him news that the fleches captured by the\r
+French had been retaken, but that Prince Bagration was wounded. Kutuzov\r
+groaned and swayed his head.\r
+\r
+"Ride over to Prince Peter Ivanovich and find out about it exactly," he\r
+said to one of his adjutants, and then turned to the Duke of Wurttemberg\r
+who was standing behind him.\r
+\r
+"Will Your Highness please take command of the first army?"\r
+\r
+Soon after the duke's departure--before he could possibly have reached\r
+Semenovsk--his adjutant came back from him and told Kutuzov that the\r
+duke asked for more troops.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov made a grimace and sent an order to Dokhturov to take over the\r
+command of the first army, and a request to the duke--whom he said he\r
+could not spare at such an important moment--to return to him. When they\r
+brought him news that Murat had been taken prisoner, and the staff\r
+officers congratulated him, Kutuzov smiled.\r
+\r
+"Wait a little, gentlemen," said he. "The battle is won, and there is\r
+nothing extraordinary in the capture of Murat. Still, it is better to\r
+wait before we rejoice."\r
+\r
+But he sent an adjutant to take the news round the army.\r
+\r
+When Scherbinin came galloping from the left flank with news that the\r
+French had captured the fleches and the village of Semenovsk, Kutuzov,\r
+guessing by the sounds of the battle and by Scherbinin's looks that the\r
+news was bad, rose as if to stretch his legs and, taking Scherbinin's\r
+arm, led him aside.\r
+\r
+"Go, my dear fellow," he said to Ermolov, "and see whether something\r
+can't be done."\r
+\r
+Kutuzov was in Gorki, near the center of the Russian position. The\r
+attack directed by Napoleon against our left flank had been several\r
+times repulsed. In the center the French had not got beyond Borodino,\r
+and on their left flank Uvarov's cavalry had put the French to flight.\r
+\r
+Toward three o'clock the French attacks ceased. On the faces of all who\r
+came from the field of battle, and of those who stood around him,\r
+Kutuzov noticed an expression of extreme tension. He was satisfied with\r
+the day's success--a success exceeding his expectations, but the old\r
+man's strength was failing him. Several times his head dropped low as if\r
+it were falling and he dozed off. Dinner was brought him.\r
+\r
+Adjutant General Wolzogen, the man who when riding past Prince Andrew\r
+had said, "the war should be extended widely," and whom Bagration so\r
+detested, rode up while Kutuzov was at dinner. Wolzogen had come from\r
+Barclay de Tolly to report on the progress of affairs on the left flank.\r
+The sagacious Barclay de Tolly, seeing crowds of wounded men running\r
+back and the disordered rear of the army, weighed all the circumstances,\r
+concluded that the battle was lost, and sent his favorite officer to the\r
+commander in chief with that news.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov was chewing a piece of roast chicken with difficulty and glanced\r
+at Wolzogen with eyes that brightened under their puckering lids.\r
+\r
+Wolzogen, nonchalantly stretching his legs, approached Kutuzov with a\r
+half-contemptuous smile on his lips, scarcely touching the peak of his\r
+cap.\r
+\r
+He treated his Serene Highness with a somewhat affected nonchalance\r
+intended to show that, as a highly trained military man, he left it to\r
+Russians to make an idol of this useless old man, but that he knew whom\r
+he was dealing with. "Der alte Herr" (as in their own set the Germans\r
+called Kutuzov) "is making himself very comfortable," thought Wolzogen,\r
+and looking severely at the dishes in front of Kutuzov he began to\r
+report to "the old gentleman" the position of affairs on the left flank\r
+as Barclay had ordered him to and as he himself had seen and understood\r
+it.\r
+\r
+"All the points of our position are in the enemy's hands and we cannot\r
+dislodge them for lack of troops, the men are running away and it is\r
+impossible to stop them," he reported.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov ceased chewing and fixed an astonished gaze on Wolzogen, as if\r
+not understanding what was said to him. Wolzogen, noticing "the old\r
+gentleman's" agitation, said with a smile:\r
+\r
+"I have not considered it right to conceal from your Serene Highness\r
+what I have seen. The troops are in complete disorder..."\r
+\r
+"You have seen? You have seen?..." Kutuzov shouted. Frowning and rising\r
+quickly, he went up to Wolzogen.\r
+\r
+"How... how dare you!..." he shouted, choking and making a threatening\r
+gesture with his trembling arms: "How dare you, sir, say that to me? You\r
+know nothing about it. Tell General Barclay from me that his information\r
+is incorrect and that the real course of the battle is better known to\r
+me, the commander-in-chief, than to him."\r
+\r
+Wolzogen was about to make a rejoinder, but Kutuzov interrupted him.\r
+\r
+"The enemy has been repulsed on the left and defeated on the right\r
+flank. If you have seen amiss, sir, do not allow yourself to say what\r
+you don't know! Be so good as to ride to General Barclay and inform him\r
+of my firm intention to attack the enemy tomorrow," said Kutuzov\r
+sternly.\r
+\r
+All were silent, and the only sound audible was the heavy breathing of\r
+the panting old general.\r
+\r
+"They are repulsed everywhere, for which I thank God and our brave army!\r
+The enemy is beaten, and tomorrow we shall drive him from the sacred\r
+soil of Russia," said Kutuzov crossing himself, and he suddenly sobbed\r
+as his eyes filled with tears.\r
+\r
+Wolzogen, shrugging his shoulders and curling his lips, stepped silently\r
+aside, marveling at "the old gentleman's" conceited stupidity.\r
+\r
+"Ah, here he is, my hero!" said Kutuzov to a portly, handsome, dark-\r
+haired general who was just ascending the knoll.\r
+\r
+This was Raevski, who had spent the whole day at the most important part\r
+of the field of Borodino.\r
+\r
+Raevski reported that the troops were firmly holding their ground and\r
+that the French no longer ventured to attack.\r
+\r
+After hearing him, Kutuzov said in French:\r
+\r
+"Then you do not think, like some others, that we must retreat?"\r
+\r
+"On the contrary, your Highness, in indecisive actions it is always the\r
+most stubborn who remain victors," replied Raevski, "and in my\r
+opinion..."\r
+\r
+"Kaysarov!" Kutuzov called to his adjutant. "Sit down and write out the\r
+order of the day for tomorrow. And you," he continued, addressing\r
+another, "ride along the line and announce that tomorrow we attack."\r
+\r
+While Kutuzov was talking to Raevski and dictating the order of the day,\r
+Wolzogen returned from Barclay and said that General Barclay wished to\r
+have written confirmation of the order the field marshal had given.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov, without looking at Wolzogen, gave directions for the order to\r
+be written out which the former commander-in-chief, to avoid personal\r
+responsibility, very judiciously wished to receive.\r
+\r
+And by means of that mysterious indefinable bond which maintains\r
+throughout an army one and the same temper, known as "the spirit of the\r
+army," and which constitutes the sinew of war, Kutuzov's words, his\r
+order for a battle next day, immediately became known from one end of\r
+the army to the other.\r
+\r
+It was far from being the same words or the same order that reached the\r
+farthest links of that chain. The tales passing from mouth to mouth at\r
+different ends of the army did not even resemble what Kutuzov had said,\r
+but the sense of his words spread everywhere because what he said was\r
+not the outcome of cunning calculations, but of a feeling that lay in\r
+the commander-in-chief's soul as in that of every Russian.\r
+\r
+And on learning that tomorrow they were to attack the enemy, and hearing\r
+from the highest quarters a confirmation of what they wanted to believe,\r
+the exhausted, wavering men felt comforted and inspirited.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXXVI\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew's regiment was among the reserves which till after one\r
+o'clock were stationed inactive behind Semenovsk, under heavy artillery\r
+fire. Toward two o'clock the regiment, having already lost more than two\r
+hundred men, was moved forward into a trampled oatfield in the gap\r
+between Semenovsk and the Knoll Battery, where thousands of men perished\r
+that day and on which an intense, concentrated fire from several hundred\r
+enemy guns was directed between one and two o'clock.\r
+\r
+Without moving from that spot or firing a single shot the regiment here\r
+lost another third of its men. From in front and especially from the\r
+right, in the unlifting smoke the guns boomed, and out of the mysterious\r
+domain of smoke that overlay the whole space in front, quick hissing\r
+cannon balls and slow whistling shells flew unceasingly. At times, as if\r
+to allow them a respite, a quarter of an hour passed during which the\r
+cannon balls and shells all flew overhead, but sometimes several men\r
+were torn from the regiment in a minute and the slain were continually\r
+being dragged away and the wounded carried off.\r
+\r
+With each fresh blow less and less chance of life remained for those not\r
+yet killed. The regiment stood in columns of battalion, three hundred\r
+paces apart, but nevertheless the men were always in one and the same\r
+mood. All alike were taciturn and morose. Talk was rarely heard in the\r
+ranks, and it ceased altogether every time the thud of a successful shot\r
+and the cry of "stretchers!" was heard. Most of the time, by their\r
+officers' order, the men sat on the ground. One, having taken off his\r
+shako, carefully loosened the gathers of its lining and drew them tight\r
+again; another, rubbing some dry clay between his palms, polished his\r
+bayonet; another fingered the strap and pulled the buckle of his\r
+bandolier, while another smoothed and refolded his leg bands and put his\r
+boots on again. Some built little houses of the tufts in the plowed\r
+ground, or plaited baskets from the straw in the cornfield. All seemed\r
+fully absorbed in these pursuits. When men were killed or wounded, when\r
+rows of stretchers went past, when some troops retreated, and when great\r
+masses of the enemy came into view through the smoke, no one paid any\r
+attention to these things. But when our artillery or cavalry advanced or\r
+some of our infantry were seen to move forward, words of approval were\r
+heard on all sides. But the liveliest attention was attracted by\r
+occurrences quite apart from, and unconnected with, the battle. It was\r
+as if the minds of these morally exhausted men found relief in everyday,\r
+commonplace occurrences. A battery of artillery was passing in front of\r
+the regiment. The horse of an ammunition cart put its leg over a trace.\r
+"Hey, look at the trace horse!... Get her leg out! She'll fall.... Ah,\r
+they don't see it!" came identical shouts from the ranks all along the\r
+regiment. Another time, general attention was attracted by a small brown\r
+dog, coming heaven knows whence, which trotted in a preoccupied manner\r
+in front of the ranks with tail stiffly erect till suddenly a shell fell\r
+close by, when it yelped, tucked its tail between its legs, and darted\r
+aside. Yells and shrieks of laughter rose from the whole regiment. But\r
+such distractions lasted only a moment, and for eight hours the men had\r
+been inactive, without food, in constant fear of death, and their pale\r
+and gloomy faces grew ever paler and gloomier.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew, pale and gloomy like everyone in the regiment, paced up\r
+and down from the border of one patch to another, at the edge of the\r
+meadow beside an oatfield, with head bowed and arms behind his back.\r
+There was nothing for him to do and no orders to be given. Everything\r
+went on of itself. The killed were dragged from the front, the wounded\r
+carried away, and the ranks closed up. If any soldiers ran to the rear\r
+they returned immediately and hastily. At first Prince Andrew,\r
+considering it his duty to rouse the courage of the men and to set them\r
+an example, walked about among the ranks, but he soon became convinced\r
+that this was unnecessary and that there was nothing he could teach\r
+them. All the powers of his soul, as of every soldier there, were\r
+unconsciously bent on avoiding the contemplation of the horrors of their\r
+situation. He walked along the meadow, dragging his feet, rustling the\r
+grass, and gazing at the dust that covered his boots; now he took big\r
+strides trying to keep to the footprints left on the meadow by the\r
+mowers, then he counted his steps, calculating how often he must walk\r
+from one strip to another to walk a mile, then he stripped the flowers\r
+from the wormwood that grew along a boundary rut, rubbed them in his\r
+palms, and smelled their pungent, sweetly bitter scent. Nothing remained\r
+of the previous day's thoughts. He thought of nothing. He listened with\r
+weary ears to the ever-recurring sounds, distinguishing the whistle of\r
+flying projectiles from the booming of the reports, glanced at the\r
+tiresomely familiar faces of the men of the first battalion, and waited.\r
+"Here it comes... this one is coming our way again!" he thought,\r
+listening to an approaching whistle in the hidden region of smoke. "One,\r
+another! Again! It has hit...." He stopped and looked at the ranks. "No,\r
+it has gone over. But this one has hit!" And again he started trying to\r
+reach the boundary strip in sixteen paces. A whizz and a thud! Five\r
+paces from him, a cannon ball tore up the dry earth and disappeared. A\r
+chill ran down his back. Again he glanced at the ranks. Probably many\r
+had been hit--a large crowd had gathered near the second battalion.\r
+\r
+"Adjutant!" he shouted. "Order them not to crowd together."\r
+\r
+The adjutant, having obeyed this instruction, approached Prince Andrew.\r
+From the other side a battalion commander rode up.\r
+\r
+"Look out!" came a frightened cry from a soldier and, like a bird\r
+whirring in rapid flight and alighting on the ground, a shell dropped\r
+with little noise within two steps of Prince Andrew and close to the\r
+battalion commander's horse. The horse first, regardless of whether it\r
+was right or wrong to show fear, snorted, reared almost throwing the\r
+major, and galloped aside. The horse's terror infected the men.\r
+\r
+"Lie down!" cried the adjutant, throwing himself flat on the ground.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew hesitated. The smoking shell spun like a top between him\r
+and the prostrate adjutant, near a wormwood plant between the field and\r
+the meadow.\r
+\r
+"Can this be death?" thought Prince Andrew, looking with a quite new,\r
+envious glance at the grass, the wormwood, and the streamlet of smoke\r
+that curled up from the rotating black ball. "I cannot, I do not wish to\r
+die. I love life--I love this grass, this earth, this air...." He\r
+thought this, and at the same time remembered that people were looking\r
+at him.\r
+\r
+"It's shameful, sir!" he said to the adjutant. "What..."\r
+\r
+He did not finish speaking. At one and the same moment came the sound of\r
+an explosion, a whistle of splinters as from a breaking window frame, a\r
+suffocating smell of powder, and Prince Andrew started to one side,\r
+raising his arm, and fell on his chest. Several officers ran up to him.\r
+From the right side of his abdomen, blood was welling out making a large\r
+stain on the grass.\r
+\r
+The militiamen with stretchers who were called up stood behind the\r
+officers. Prince Andrew lay on his chest with his face in the grass,\r
+breathing heavily and noisily.\r
+\r
+"What are you waiting for? Come along!"\r
+\r
+The peasants went up and took him by his shoulders and legs, but he\r
+moaned piteously and, exchanging looks, they set him down again.\r
+\r
+"Pick him up, lift him, it's all the same!" cried someone.\r
+\r
+They again took him by the shoulders and laid him on the stretcher.\r
+\r
+"Ah, God! My God! What is it? The stomach? That means death! My God!"--\r
+voices among the officers were heard saying.\r
+\r
+"It flew a hair's breadth past my ear," said the adjutant.\r
+\r
+The peasants, adjusting the stretcher to their shoulders, started\r
+hurriedly along the path they had trodden down, to the dressing station.\r
+\r
+"Keep in step! Ah... those peasants!" shouted an officer, seizing by\r
+their shoulders and checking the peasants, who were walking unevenly and\r
+jolting the stretcher.\r
+\r
+"Get into step, Fedor... I say, Fedor!" said the foremost peasant.\r
+\r
+"Now that's right!" said the one behind joyfully, when he had got into\r
+step.\r
+\r
+"Your excellency! Eh, Prince!" said the trembling voice of Timokhin, who\r
+had run up and was looking down on the stretcher.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew opened his eyes and looked up at the speaker from the\r
+stretcher into which his head had sunk deep and again his eyelids\r
+drooped.\r
+\r
+The militiamen carried Prince Andrew to the dressing station by the\r
+wood, where wagons were stationed. The dressing station consisted of\r
+three tents with flaps turned back, pitched at the edge of a birch wood.\r
+In the wood, wagons and horses were standing. The horses were eating\r
+oats from their movable troughs and sparrows flew down and pecked the\r
+grains that fell. Some crows, scenting blood, flew among the birch trees\r
+cawing impatiently. Around the tents, over more than five acres,\r
+bloodstained men in various garbs stood, sat, or lay. Around the wounded\r
+stood crowds of soldier stretcher-bearers with dismal and attentive\r
+faces, whom the officers keeping order tried in vain to drive from the\r
+spot. Disregarding the officers' orders, the soldiers stood leaning\r
+against their stretchers and gazing intently, as if trying to comprehend\r
+the difficult problem of what was taking place before them. From the\r
+tents came now loud angry cries and now plaintive groans. Occasionally\r
+dressers ran out to fetch water, or to point out those who were to be\r
+brought in next. The wounded men awaiting their turn outside the tents\r
+groaned, sighed, wept, screamed, swore, or asked for vodka. Some were\r
+delirious. Prince Andrew's bearers, stepping over the wounded who had\r
+not yet been bandaged, took him, as a regimental commander, close up to\r
+one of the tents and there stopped, awaiting instructions. Prince Andrew\r
+opened his eyes and for a long time could not make out what was going on\r
+around him. He remembered the meadow, the wormwood, the field, the\r
+whirling black ball, and his sudden rush of passionate love of life. Two\r
+steps from him, leaning against a branch and talking loudly and\r
+attracting general attention, stood a tall, handsome, black-haired\r
+noncommissioned officer with a bandaged head. He had been wounded in the\r
+head and leg by bullets. Around him, eagerly listening to his talk, a\r
+crowd of wounded and stretcher-bearers was gathered.\r
+\r
+"We kicked him out from there so that he chucked everything, we grabbed\r
+the King himself!" cried he, looking around him with eyes that glittered\r
+with fever. "If only reserves had come up just then, lads, there\r
+wouldn't have been nothing left of him! I tell you surely..."\r
+\r
+Like all the others near the speaker, Prince Andrew looked at him with\r
+shining eyes and experienced a sense of comfort. "But isn't it all the\r
+same now?" thought he. "And what will be there, and what has there been\r
+here? Why was I so reluctant to part with life? There was something in\r
+this life I did not and do not understand."\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXXVII\r
+\r
+One of the doctors came out of the tent in a bloodstained apron, holding\r
+a cigar between the thumb and little finger of one of his small\r
+bloodstained hands, so as not to smear it. He raised his head and looked\r
+about him, but above the level of the wounded men. He evidently wanted a\r
+little respite. After turning his head from right to left for some time,\r
+he sighed and looked down.\r
+\r
+"All right, immediately," he replied to a dresser who pointed Prince\r
+Andrew out to him, and he told them to carry him into the tent.\r
+\r
+Murmurs arose among the wounded who were waiting.\r
+\r
+"It seems that even in the next world only the gentry are to have a\r
+chance!" remarked one.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew was carried in and laid on a table that had only just been\r
+cleared and which a dresser was washing down. Prince Andrew could not\r
+make out distinctly what was in that tent. The pitiful groans from all\r
+sides and the torturing pain in his thigh, stomach, and back distracted\r
+him. All he saw about him merged into a general impression of naked,\r
+bleeding human bodies that seemed to fill the whole of the low tent, as\r
+a few weeks previously, on that hot August day, such bodies had filled\r
+the dirty pond beside the Smolensk road. Yes, it was the same flesh, the\r
+same chair a canon, the sight of which had even then filled him with\r
+horror, as by a presentiment.\r
+\r
+There were three operating tables in the tent. Two were occupied, and on\r
+the third they placed Prince Andrew. For a little while he was left\r
+alone and involuntarily witnessed what was taking place on the other two\r
+tables. On the nearest one sat a Tartar, probably a Cossack, judging by\r
+the uniform thrown down beside him. Four soldiers were holding him, and\r
+a spectacled doctor was cutting into his muscular brown back.\r
+\r
+"Ooh, ooh, ooh!" grunted the Tartar, and suddenly lifting up his swarthy\r
+snub-nosed face with its high cheekbones, and baring his white teeth, he\r
+began to wriggle and twitch his body and utter piercing, ringing, and\r
+prolonged yells. On the other table, round which many people were\r
+crowding, a tall well-fed man lay on his back with his head thrown back.\r
+His curly hair, its color, and the shape of his head seemed strangely\r
+familiar to Prince Andrew. Several dressers were pressing on his chest\r
+to hold him down. One large, white, plump leg twitched rapidly all the\r
+time with a feverish tremor. The man was sobbing and choking\r
+convulsively. Two doctors--one of whom was pale and trembling--were\r
+silently doing something to this man's other, gory leg. When he had\r
+finished with the Tartar, whom they covered with an overcoat, the\r
+spectacled doctor came up to Prince Andrew, wiping his hands.\r
+\r
+He glanced at Prince Andrew's face and quickly turned away.\r
+\r
+"Undress him! What are you waiting for?" he cried angrily to the\r
+dressers.\r
+\r
+His very first, remotest recollections of childhood came back to Prince\r
+Andrew's mind when the dresser with sleeves rolled up began hastily to\r
+undo the buttons of his clothes and undressed him. The doctor bent down\r
+over the wound, felt it, and sighed deeply. Then he made a sign to\r
+someone, and the torturing pain in his abdomen caused Prince Andrew to\r
+lose consciousness. When he came to himself the splintered portions of\r
+his thighbone had been extracted, the torn flesh cut away, and the wound\r
+bandaged. Water was being sprinkled on his face. As soon as Prince\r
+Andrew opened his eyes, the doctor bent over, kissed him silently on the\r
+lips, and hurried away.\r
+\r
+After the sufferings he had been enduring, Prince Andrew enjoyed a\r
+blissful feeling such as he had not experienced for a long time. All the\r
+best and happiest moments of his life--especially his earliest\r
+childhood, when he used to be undressed and put to bed, and when leaning\r
+over him his nurse sang him to sleep and he, burying his head in the\r
+pillow, felt happy in the mere consciousness of life--returned to his\r
+memory, not merely as something past but as something present.\r
+\r
+The doctors were busily engaged with the wounded man the shape of whose\r
+head seemed familiar to Prince Andrew: they were lifting him up and\r
+trying to quiet him.\r
+\r
+"Show it to me.... Oh, ooh... Oh! Oh, ooh!" his frightened moans could\r
+be heard, subdued by suffering and broken by sobs.\r
+\r
+Hearing those moans Prince Andrew wanted to weep. Whether because he was\r
+dying without glory, or because he was sorry to part with life, or\r
+because of those memories of a childhood that could not return, or\r
+because he was suffering and others were suffering and that man near him\r
+was groaning so piteously--he felt like weeping childlike, kindly, and\r
+almost happy tears.\r
+\r
+The wounded man was shown his amputated leg stained with clotted blood\r
+and with the boot still on.\r
+\r
+"Oh! Oh, ooh!" he sobbed, like a woman.\r
+\r
+The doctor who had been standing beside him, preventing Prince Andrew\r
+from seeing his face, moved away.\r
+\r
+"My God! What is this? Why is he here?" said Prince Andrew to himself.\r
+\r
+In the miserable, sobbing, enfeebled man whose leg had just been\r
+amputated, he recognized Anatole Kuragin. Men were supporting him in\r
+their arms and offering him a glass of water, but his trembling, swollen\r
+lips could not grasp its rim. Anatole was sobbing painfully. "Yes, it is\r
+he! Yes, that man is somehow closely and painfully connected with me,"\r
+thought Prince Andrew, not yet clearly grasping what he saw before him.\r
+"What is the connection of that man with my childhood and life?" he\r
+asked himself without finding an answer. And suddenly a new unexpected\r
+memory from that realm of pure and loving childhood presented itself to\r
+him. He remembered Natasha as he had seen her for the first time at the\r
+ball in 1810, with her slender neck and arms and with a frightened happy\r
+face ready for rapture, and love and tenderness for her, stronger and\r
+more vivid than ever, awoke in his soul. He now remembered the\r
+connection that existed between himself and this man who was dimly\r
+gazing at him through tears that filled his swollen eyes. He remembered\r
+everything, and ecstatic pity and love for that man overflowed his happy\r
+heart.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew could no longer restrain himself and wept tender loving\r
+tears for his fellow men, for himself, and for his own and their errors.\r
+\r
+"Compassion, love of our brothers, for those who love us and for those\r
+who hate us, love of our enemies; yes, that love which God preached on\r
+earth and which Princess Mary taught me and I did not understand--that\r
+is what made me sorry to part with life, that is what remained for me\r
+had I lived. But now it is too late. I know it!"\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXXVIII\r
+\r
+The terrible spectacle of the battlefield covered with dead and wounded,\r
+together with the heaviness of his head and the news that some twenty\r
+generals he knew personally had been killed or wounded, and the\r
+consciousness of the impotence of his once mighty arm, produced an\r
+unexpected impression on Napoleon who usually liked to look at the\r
+killed and wounded, thereby, he considered, testing his strength of\r
+mind. This day the horrible appearance of the battlefield overcame that\r
+strength of mind which he thought constituted his merit and his\r
+greatness. He rode hurriedly from the battlefield and returned to the\r
+Shevardino knoll, where he sat on his campstool, his sallow face swollen\r
+and heavy, his eyes dim, his nose red, and his voice hoarse,\r
+involuntarily listening, with downcast eyes, to the sounds of firing.\r
+With painful dejection he awaited the end of this action, in which he\r
+regarded himself as a participant and which he was unable to arrest. A\r
+personal, human feeling for a brief moment got the better of the\r
+artificial phantasm of life he had served so long. He felt in his own\r
+person the sufferings and death he had witnessed on the battlefield. The\r
+heaviness of his head and chest reminded him of the possibility of\r
+suffering and death for himself. At that moment he did not desire\r
+Moscow, or victory, or glory (what need had he for any more glory?). The\r
+one thing he wished for was rest, tranquillity, and freedom. But when he\r
+had been on the Semenovsk heights the artillery commander had proposed\r
+to him to bring several batteries of artillery up to those heights to\r
+strengthen the fire on the Russian troops crowded in front of Knyazkovo.\r
+Napoleon had assented and had given orders that news should be brought\r
+to him of the effect those batteries produced.\r
+\r
+An adjutant came now to inform him that the fire of two hundred guns had\r
+been concentrated on the Russians, as he had ordered, but that they\r
+still held their ground.\r
+\r
+"Our fire is mowing them down by rows, but still they hold on," said the\r
+adjutant.\r
+\r
+"They want more!..." said Napoleon in a hoarse voice.\r
+\r
+"Sire?" asked the adjutant who had not heard the remark.\r
+\r
+"They want more!" croaked Napoleon frowning. "Let them have it!"\r
+\r
+Even before he gave that order the thing he did not desire, and for\r
+which he gave the order only because he thought it was expected of him,\r
+was being done. And he fell back into that artificial realm of imaginary\r
+greatness, and again--as a horse walking a treadmill thinks it is doing\r
+something for itself--he submissively fulfilled the cruel, sad, gloomy,\r
+and inhuman role predestined for him.\r
+\r
+And not for that day and hour alone were the mind and conscience\r
+darkened of this man on whom the responsibility for what was happening\r
+lay more than on all the others who took part in it. Never to the end of\r
+his life could he understand goodness, beauty, or truth, or the\r
+significance of his actions which were too contrary to goodness and\r
+truth, too remote from everything human, for him ever to be able to\r
+grasp their meaning. He could not disavow his actions, belauded as they\r
+were by half the world, and so he had to repudiate truth, goodness, and\r
+all humanity.\r
+\r
+Not only on that day, as he rode over the battlefield strewn with men\r
+killed and maimed (by his will as he believed), did he reckon as he\r
+looked at them how many Russians there were for each Frenchman and,\r
+deceiving himself, find reason for rejoicing in the calculation that\r
+there were five Russians for every Frenchman. Not on that day alone did\r
+he write in a letter to Paris that "the battle field was superb,"\r
+because fifty thousand corpses lay there, but even on the island of St.\r
+Helena in the peaceful solitude where he said he intended to devote his\r
+leisure to an account of the great deeds he had done, he wrote:\r
+\r
+The Russian war should have been the most popular war of modern times:\r
+it was a war of good sense, for real interests, for the tranquillity and\r
+security of all; it was purely pacific and conservative.\r
+\r
+It was a war for a great cause, the end of uncertainties and the\r
+beginning of security. A new horizon and new labors were opening out,\r
+full of well-being and prosperity for all. The European system was\r
+already founded; all that remained was to organize it.\r
+\r
+Satisfied on these great points and with tranquility everywhere, I too\r
+should have had my Congress and my Holy Alliance. Those ideas were\r
+stolen from me. In that reunion of great sovereigns we should have\r
+discussed our interests like one family, and have rendered account to\r
+the peoples as clerk to master.\r
+\r
+Europe would in this way soon have been, in fact, but one people, and\r
+anyone who traveled anywhere would have found himself always in the\r
+common fatherland. I should have demanded the freedom of all navigable\r
+rivers for everybody, that the seas should be common to all, and that\r
+the great standing armies should be reduced henceforth to mere guards\r
+for the sovereigns.\r
+\r
+On returning to France, to the bosom of the great, strong, magnificent,\r
+peaceful, and glorious fatherland, I should have proclaimed her\r
+frontiers immutable; all future wars purely defensive, all\r
+aggrandizement antinational. I should have associated my son in the\r
+Empire; my dictatorship would have been finished, and his constitutional\r
+reign would have begun.\r
+\r
+Paris would have been the capital of the world, and the French the envy\r
+of the nations!\r
+\r
+My leisure then, and my old age, would have been devoted, in company\r
+with the Empress and during the royal apprenticeship of my son, to\r
+leisurely visiting, with our own horses and like a true country couple,\r
+every corner of the Empire, receiving complaints, redressing wrongs, and\r
+scattering public buildings and benefactions on all sides and\r
+everywhere.\r
+\r
+Napoleon, predestined by Providence for the gloomy role of executioner\r
+of the peoples, assured himself that the aim of his actions had been the\r
+peoples' welfare and that he could control the fate of millions and by\r
+the employment of power confer benefactions.\r
+\r
+"Of four hundred thousand who crossed the Vistula," he wrote further of\r
+the Russian war, "half were Austrians, Prussians, Saxons, Poles,\r
+Bavarians, Wurttembergers, Mecklenburgers, Spaniards, Italians, and\r
+Neapolitans. The Imperial army, strictly speaking, was one third\r
+composed of Dutch, Belgians, men from the borders of the Rhine,\r
+Piedmontese, Swiss, Genevese, Tuscans, Romans, inhabitants of the\r
+Thirty-second Military Division, of Bremen, of Hamburg, and so on: it\r
+included scarcely a hundred and forty thousand who spoke French. The\r
+Russian expedition actually cost France less than fifty thousand men;\r
+the Russian army in its retreat from Vilna to Moscow lost in the various\r
+battles four times more men than the French army; the burning of Moscow\r
+cost the lives of a hundred thousand Russians who died of cold and want\r
+in the woods; finally, in its march from Moscow to the Oder the Russian\r
+army also suffered from the severity of the season; so that by the time\r
+it reached Vilna it numbered only fifty thousand, and at Kalisch less\r
+than eighteen thousand."\r
+\r
+He imagined that the war with Russia came about by his will, and the\r
+horrors that occurred did not stagger his soul. He boldly took the whole\r
+responsibility for what happened, and his darkened mind found\r
+justification in the belief that among the hundreds of thousands who\r
+perished there were fewer Frenchmen than Hessians and Bavarians.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXXIX\r
+\r
+Several tens of thousands of the slain lay in diverse postures and\r
+various uniforms on the fields and meadows belonging to the Davydov\r
+family and to the crown serfs--those fields and meadows where for\r
+hundreds of years the peasants of Borodino, Gorki, Shevardino, and\r
+Semenovsk had reaped their harvests and pastured their cattle. At the\r
+dressing stations the grass and earth were soaked with blood for a space\r
+of some three acres around. Crowds of men of various arms, wounded and\r
+unwounded, with frightened faces, dragged themselves back to Mozhaysk\r
+from the one army and back to Valuevo from the other. Other crowds,\r
+exhausted and hungry, went forward led by their officers. Others held\r
+their ground and continued to fire.\r
+\r
+Over the whole field, previously so gaily beautiful with the glitter of\r
+bayonets and cloudlets of smoke in the morning sun, there now spread a\r
+mist of damp and smoke and a strange acid smell of saltpeter and blood.\r
+Clouds gathered and drops of rain began to fall on the dead and wounded,\r
+on the frightened, exhausted, and hesitating men, as if to say: "Enough,\r
+men! Enough! Cease... bethink yourselves! What are you doing?"\r
+\r
+To the men of both sides alike, worn out by want of food and rest, it\r
+began equally to appear doubtful whether they should continue to\r
+slaughter one another; all the faces expressed hesitation, and the\r
+question arose in every soul: "For what, for whom, must I kill and be\r
+killed?... You may go and kill whom you please, but I don't want to do\r
+so anymore!" By evening this thought had ripened in every soul. At any\r
+moment these men might have been seized with horror at what they were\r
+doing and might have thrown up everything and run away anywhere.\r
+\r
+But though toward the end of the battle the men felt all the horror of\r
+what they were doing, though they would have been glad to leave off,\r
+some incomprehensible, mysterious power continued to control them, and\r
+they still brought up the charges, loaded, aimed, and applied the match,\r
+though only one artilleryman survived out of every three, and though\r
+they stumbled and panted with fatigue, perspiring and stained with blood\r
+and powder. The cannon balls flew just as swiftly and cruelly from both\r
+sides, crushing human bodies, and that terrible work which was not done\r
+by the will of a man but at the will of Him who governs men and worlds\r
+continued.\r
+\r
+Anyone looking at the disorganized rear of the Russian army would have\r
+said that, if only the French made one more slight effort, it would\r
+disappear; and anyone looking at the rear of the French army would have\r
+said that the Russians need only make one more slight effort and the\r
+French would be destroyed. But neither the French nor the Russians made\r
+that effort, and the flame of battle burned slowly out.\r
+\r
+The Russians did not make that effort because they were not attacking\r
+the French. At the beginning of the battle they stood blocking the way\r
+to Moscow and they still did so at the end of the battle as at the\r
+beginning. But even had the aim of the Russians been to drive the French\r
+from their positions, they could not have made this last effort, for all\r
+the Russian troops had been broken up, there was no part of the Russian\r
+army that had not suffered in the battle, and though still holding their\r
+positions they had lost ONE HALF of their army.\r
+\r
+The French, with the memory of all their former victories during fifteen\r
+years, with the assurance of Napoleon's invincibility, with the\r
+consciousness that they had captured part of the battlefield and had\r
+lost only a quarter of their men and still had their Guards intact,\r
+twenty thousand strong, might easily have made that effort. The French\r
+who had attacked the Russian army in order to drive it from its position\r
+ought to have made that effort, for as long as the Russians continued to\r
+block the road to Moscow as before, the aim of the French had not been\r
+attained and all their efforts and losses were in vain. But the French\r
+did not make that effort. Some historians say that Napoleon need only\r
+have used his Old Guards, who were intact, and the battle would have\r
+been won. To speak of what would have happened had Napoleon sent his\r
+Guards is like talking of what would happen if autumn became spring. It\r
+could not be. Napoleon did not give his Guards, not because he did not\r
+want to, but because it could not be done. All the generals, officers,\r
+and soldiers of the French army knew it could not be done, because the\r
+flagging spirit of the troops would not permit it.\r
+\r
+It was not Napoleon alone who had experienced that nightmare feeling of\r
+the mighty arm being stricken powerless, but all the generals and\r
+soldiers of his army whether they had taken part in the battle or not,\r
+after all their experience of previous battles--when after one tenth of\r
+such efforts the enemy had fled--experienced a similar feeling of terror\r
+before an enemy who, after losing HALF his men, stood as threateningly\r
+at the end as at the beginning of the battle. The moral force of the\r
+attacking French army was exhausted. Not that sort of victory which is\r
+defined by the capture of pieces of material fastened to sticks, called\r
+standards, and of the ground on which the troops had stood and were\r
+standing, but a moral victory that convinces the enemy of the moral\r
+superiority of his opponent and of his own impotence was gained by the\r
+Russians at Borodino. The French invaders, like an infuriated animal\r
+that has in its onslaught received a mortal wound, felt that they were\r
+perishing, but could not stop, any more than the Russian army, weaker by\r
+one half, could help swerving. By impetus gained, the French army was\r
+still able to roll forward to Moscow, but there, without further effort\r
+on the part of the Russians, it had to perish, bleeding from the mortal\r
+wound it had received at Borodino. The direct consequence of the battle\r
+of Borodino was Napoleon's senseless flight from Moscow, his retreat\r
+along the old Smolensk road, the destruction of the invading army of\r
+five hundred thousand men, and the downfall of Napoleonic France, on\r
+which at Borodino for the first time the hand of an opponent of stronger\r
+spirit had been laid.\r
+\r
+BOOK ELEVEN: 1812\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+Absolute continuity of motion is not comprehensible to the human mind.\r
+Laws of motion of any kind become comprehensible to man only when he\r
+examines arbitrarily selected elements of that motion; but at the same\r
+time, a large proportion of human error comes from the arbitrary\r
+division of continuous motion into discontinuous elements. There is a\r
+well known, so-called sophism of the ancients consisting in this, that\r
+Achilles could never catch up with a tortoise he was following, in spite\r
+of the fact that he traveled ten times as fast as the tortoise. By the\r
+time Achilles has covered the distance that separated him from the\r
+tortoise, the tortoise has covered one tenth of that distance ahead of\r
+him: when Achilles has covered that tenth, the tortoise has covered\r
+another one hundredth, and so on forever. This problem seemed to the\r
+ancients insoluble. The absurd answer (that Achilles could never\r
+overtake the tortoise) resulted from this: that motion was arbitrarily\r
+divided into discontinuous elements, whereas the motion both of Achilles\r
+and of the tortoise was continuous.\r
+\r
+By adopting smaller and smaller elements of motion we only approach a\r
+solution of the problem, but never reach it. Only when we have admitted\r
+the conception of the infinitely small, and the resulting geometrical\r
+progression with a common ratio of one tenth, and have found the sum of\r
+this progression to infinity, do we reach a solution of the problem.\r
+\r
+A modern branch of mathematics having achieved the art of dealing with\r
+the infinitely small can now yield solutions in other more complex\r
+problems of motion which used to appear insoluble.\r
+\r
+This modern branch of mathematics, unknown to the ancients, when dealing\r
+with problems of motion admits the conception of the infinitely small,\r
+and so conforms to the chief condition of motion (absolute continuity)\r
+and thereby corrects the inevitable error which the human mind cannot\r
+avoid when it deals with separate elements of motion instead of\r
+examining continuous motion.\r
+\r
+In seeking the laws of historical movement just the same thing happens.\r
+The movement of humanity, arising as it does from innumerable arbitrary\r
+human wills, is continuous.\r
+\r
+To understand the laws of this continuous movement is the aim of\r
+history. But to arrive at these laws, resulting from the sum of all\r
+those human wills, man's mind postulates arbitrary and disconnected\r
+units. The first method of history is to take an arbitrarily selected\r
+series of continuous events and examine it apart from others, though\r
+there is and can be no beginning to any event, for one event always\r
+flows uninterruptedly from another.\r
+\r
+The second method is to consider the actions of some one man--a king or\r
+a commander--as equivalent to the sum of many individual wills; whereas\r
+the sum of individual wills is never expressed by the activity of a\r
+single historic personage.\r
+\r
+Historical science in its endeavor to draw nearer to truth continually\r
+takes smaller and smaller units for examination. But however small the\r
+units it takes, we feel that to take any unit disconnected from others,\r
+or to assume a beginning of any phenomenon, or to say that the will of\r
+many men is expressed by the actions of any one historic personage, is\r
+in itself false.\r
+\r
+It needs no critical exertion to reduce utterly to dust any deductions\r
+drawn from history. It is merely necessary to select some larger or\r
+smaller unit as the subject of observation--as criticism has every right\r
+to do, seeing that whatever unit history observes must always be\r
+arbitrarily selected.\r
+\r
+Only by taking infinitesimally small units for observation (the\r
+differential of history, that is, the individual tendencies of men) and\r
+attaining to the art of integrating them (that is, finding the sum of\r
+these infinitesimals) can we hope to arrive at the laws of history.\r
+\r
+The first fifteen years of the nineteenth century in Europe present an\r
+extraordinary movement of millions of people. Men leave their customary\r
+pursuits, hasten from one side of Europe to the other, plunder and\r
+slaughter one another, triumph and are plunged in despair, and for some\r
+years the whole course of life is altered and presents an intensive\r
+movement which first increases and then slackens. What was the cause of\r
+this movement, by what laws was it governed? asks the mind of man.\r
+\r
+The historians, replying to this question, lay before us the sayings and\r
+doings of a few dozen men in a building in the city of Paris, calling\r
+these sayings and doings "the Revolution"; then they give a detailed\r
+biography of Napoleon and of certain people favorable or hostile to him;\r
+tell of the influence some of these people had on others, and say: that\r
+is why this movement took place and those are its laws.\r
+\r
+But the mind of man not only refuses to believe this explanation, but\r
+plainly says that this method of explanation is fallacious, because in\r
+it a weaker phenomenon is taken as the cause of a stronger. The sum of\r
+human wills produced the Revolution and Napoleon, and only the sum of\r
+those wills first tolerated and then destroyed them.\r
+\r
+"But every time there have been conquests there have been conquerors;\r
+every time there has been a revolution in any state there have been\r
+great men," says history. And, indeed, human reason replies: every time\r
+conquerors appear there have been wars, but this does not prove that the\r
+conquerors caused the wars and that it is possible to find the laws of a\r
+war in the personal activity of a single man. Whenever I look at my\r
+watch and its hands point to ten, I hear the bells of the neighboring\r
+church; but because the bells begin to ring when the hands of the clock\r
+reach ten, I have no right to assume that the movement of the bells is\r
+caused by the position of the hands of the watch.\r
+\r
+Whenever I see the movement of a locomotive I hear the whistle and see\r
+the valves opening and wheels turning; but I have no right to conclude\r
+that the whistling and the turning of wheels are the cause of the\r
+movement of the engine.\r
+\r
+The peasants say that a cold wind blows in late spring because the oaks\r
+are budding, and really every spring cold winds do blow when the oak is\r
+budding. But though I do not know what causes the cold winds to blow\r
+when the oak buds unfold, I cannot agree with the peasants that the\r
+unfolding of the oak buds is the cause of the cold wind, for the force\r
+of the wind is beyond the influence of the buds. I see only a\r
+coincidence of occurrences such as happens with all the phenomena of\r
+life, and I see that however much and however carefully I observe the\r
+hands of the watch, and the valves and wheels of the engine, and the\r
+oak, I shall not discover the cause of the bells ringing, the engine\r
+moving, or of the winds of spring. To that I must entirely change my\r
+point of view and study the laws of the movement of steam, of the bells,\r
+and of the wind. History must do the same. And attempts in this\r
+direction have already been made.\r
+\r
+To study the laws of history we must completely change the subject of\r
+our observation, must leave aside kings, ministers, and generals, and\r
+study the common, infinitesimally small elements by which the masses are\r
+moved. No one can say in how far it is possible for man to advance in\r
+this way toward an understanding of the laws of history; but it is\r
+evident that only along that path does the possibility of discovering\r
+the laws of history lie, and that as yet not a millionth part as much\r
+mental effort has been applied in this direction by historians as has\r
+been devoted to describing the actions of various kings, commanders, and\r
+ministers and propounding the historians' own reflections concerning\r
+these actions.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+The forces of a dozen European nations burst into Russia. The Russian\r
+army and people avoided a collision till Smolensk was reached, and again\r
+from Smolensk to Borodino. The French army pushed on to Moscow, its\r
+goal, its impetus ever increasing as it neared its aim, just as the\r
+velocity of a falling body increases as it approaches the earth. Behind\r
+it were seven hundred miles of hunger-stricken, hostile country; ahead\r
+were a few dozen miles separating it from its goal. Every soldier in\r
+Napoleon's army felt this and the invasion moved on by its own momentum.\r
+\r
+The more the Russian army retreated the more fiercely a spirit of hatred\r
+of the enemy flared up, and while it retreated the army increased and\r
+consolidated. At Borodino a collision took place. Neither army was\r
+broken up, but the Russian army retreated immediately after the\r
+collision as inevitably as a ball recoils after colliding with another\r
+having a greater momentum, and with equal inevitability the ball of\r
+invasion that had advanced with such momentum rolled on for some\r
+distance, though the collision had deprived it of all its force.\r
+\r
+The Russians retreated eighty miles--to beyond Moscow--and the French\r
+reached Moscow and there came to a standstill. For five weeks after that\r
+there was not a single battle. The French did not move. As a bleeding,\r
+mortally wounded animal licks its wounds, they remained inert in Moscow\r
+for five weeks, and then suddenly, with no fresh reason, fled back: they\r
+made a dash for the Kaluga road, and (after a victory--for at Malo-\r
+Yaroslavets the field of conflict again remained theirs) without\r
+undertaking a single serious battle, they fled still more rapidly back\r
+to Smolensk, beyond Smolensk, beyond the Berezina, beyond Vilna, and\r
+farther still.\r
+\r
+On the evening of the twenty-sixth of August, Kutuzov and the whole\r
+Russian army were convinced that the battle of Borodino was a victory.\r
+Kutuzov reported so to the Emperor. He gave orders to prepare for a\r
+fresh conflict to finish the enemy and did this not to deceive anyone,\r
+but because he knew that the enemy was beaten, as everyone who had taken\r
+part in the battle knew it.\r
+\r
+But all that evening and next day reports came in one after another of\r
+unheard-of losses, of the loss of half the army, and a fresh battle\r
+proved physically impossible.\r
+\r
+It was impossible to give battle before information had been collected,\r
+the wounded gathered in, the supplies of ammunition replenished, the\r
+slain reckoned up, new officers appointed to replace those who had been\r
+killed, and before the men had had food and sleep. And meanwhile, the\r
+very next morning after the battle, the French army advanced of itself\r
+upon the Russians, carried forward by the force of its own momentum now\r
+seemingly increased in inverse proportion to the square of the distance\r
+from its aim. Kutuzov's wish was to attack next day, and the whole army\r
+desired to do so. But to make an attack the wish to do so is not\r
+sufficient, there must also be a possibility of doing it, and that\r
+possibility did not exist. It was impossible not to retreat a day's\r
+march, and then in the same way it was impossible not to retreat another\r
+and a third day's march, and at last, on the first of September when the\r
+army drew near Moscow--despite the strength of the feeling that had\r
+arisen in all ranks--the force of circumstances compelled it to retire\r
+beyond Moscow. And the troops retired one more, last, day's march, and\r
+abandoned Moscow to the enemy.\r
+\r
+For people accustomed to think that plans of campaign and battles are\r
+made by generals--as any one of us sitting over a map in his study may\r
+imagine how he would have arranged things in this or that battle--the\r
+questions present themselves: Why did Kutuzov during the retreat not do\r
+this or that? Why did he not take up a position before reaching Fili?\r
+Why did he not retire at once by the Kaluga road, abandoning Moscow? and\r
+so on. People accustomed to think in that way forget, or do not know,\r
+the inevitable conditions which always limit the activities of any\r
+commander in chief. The activity of a commander-in-chief does not at all\r
+resemble the activity we imagine to ourselves when we sit at ease in our\r
+studies examining some campaign on the map, with a certain number of\r
+troops on this and that side in a certain known locality, and begin our\r
+plans from some given moment. A commander-in-chief is never dealing with\r
+the beginning of any event--the position from which we always\r
+contemplate it. The commander-in-chief is always in the midst of a\r
+series of shifting events and so he never can at any moment consider the\r
+whole import of an event that is occurring. Moment by moment the event\r
+is imperceptibly shaping itself, and at every moment of this continuous,\r
+uninterrupted shaping of events the commander-in-chief is in the midst\r
+of a most complex play of intrigues, worries, contingencies,\r
+authorities, projects, counsels, threats, and deceptions and is\r
+continually obliged to reply to innumerable questions addressed to him,\r
+which constantly conflict with one another.\r
+\r
+Learned military authorities quite seriously tell us that Kutuzov should\r
+have moved his army to the Kaluga road long before reaching Fili, and\r
+that somebody actually submitted such a proposal to him. But a commander\r
+in chief, especially at a difficult moment, has always before him not\r
+one proposal but dozens simultaneously. And all these proposals, based\r
+on strategics and tactics, contradict each other.\r
+\r
+A commander-in-chief's business, it would seem, is simply to choose one\r
+of these projects. But even that he cannot do. Events and time do not\r
+wait. For instance, on the twenty-eighth it is suggested to him to cross\r
+to the Kaluga road, but just then an adjutant gallops up from\r
+Miloradovich asking whether he is to engage the French or retire. An\r
+order must be given him at once, that instant. And the order to retreat\r
+carries us past the turn to the Kaluga road. And after the adjutant\r
+comes the commissary general asking where the stores are to be taken,\r
+and the chief of the hospitals asks where the wounded are to go, and a\r
+courier from Petersburg brings a letter from the sovereign which does\r
+not admit of the possibility of abandoning Moscow, and the commander-in-\r
+chief's rival, the man who is undermining him (and there are always not\r
+merely one but several such), presents a new project diametrically\r
+opposed to that of turning to the Kaluga road, and the commander-in-\r
+chief himself needs sleep and refreshment to maintain his energy and a\r
+respectable general who has been overlooked in the distribution of\r
+rewards comes to complain, and the inhabitants of the district pray to\r
+be defended, and an officer sent to inspect the locality comes in and\r
+gives a report quite contrary to what was said by the officer previously\r
+sent; and a spy, a prisoner, and a general who has been on\r
+reconnaissance, all describe the position of the enemy's army\r
+differently. People accustomed to misunderstand or to forget these\r
+inevitable conditions of a commander-in-chief's actions describe to us,\r
+for instance, the position of the army at Fili and assume that the\r
+commander-in-chief could, on the first of September, quite freely decide\r
+whether to abandon Moscow or defend it; whereas, with the Russian army\r
+less than four miles from Moscow, no such question existed. When had\r
+that question been settled? At Drissa and at Smolensk and most palpably\r
+of all on the twenty-fourth of August at Shevardino and on the twenty-\r
+sixth at Borodino, and each day and hour and minute of the retreat from\r
+Borodino to Fili.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+When Ermolov, having been sent by Kutuzov to inspect the position, told\r
+the field marshal that it was impossible to fight there before Moscow\r
+and that they must retreat, Kutuzov looked at him in silence.\r
+\r
+"Give me your hand," said he and, turning it over so as to feel the\r
+pulse, added: "You are not well, my dear fellow. Think what you are\r
+saying!"\r
+\r
+Kutuzov could not yet admit the possibility of retreating beyond Moscow\r
+without a battle.\r
+\r
+On the Poklonny Hill, four miles from the Dorogomilov gate of Moscow,\r
+Kutuzov got out of his carriage and sat down on a bench by the roadside.\r
+A great crowd of generals gathered round him, and Count Rostopchin, who\r
+had come out from Moscow, joined them. This brilliant company separated\r
+into several groups who all discussed the advantages and disadvantages\r
+of the position, the state of the army, the plans suggested, the\r
+situation of Moscow, and military questions generally. Though they had\r
+not been summoned for the purpose, and though it was not so called, they\r
+all felt that this was really a council of war. The conversations all\r
+dealt with public questions. If anyone gave or asked for personal news,\r
+it was done in a whisper and they immediately reverted to general\r
+matters. No jokes, or laughter, or smiles even, were seen among all\r
+these men. They evidently all made an effort to hold themselves at the\r
+height the situation demanded. And all these groups, while talking among\r
+themselves, tried to keep near the commander-in-chief (whose bench\r
+formed the center of the gathering) and to speak so that he might\r
+overhear them. The commander in chief listened to what was being said\r
+and sometimes asked them to repeat their remarks, but did not himself\r
+take part in the conversations or express any opinion. After hearing\r
+what was being said by one or other of these groups he generally turned\r
+away with an air of disappointment, as though they were not speaking of\r
+anything he wished to hear. Some discussed the position that had been\r
+chosen, criticizing not the position itself so much as the mental\r
+capacity of those who had chosen it. Others argued that a mistake had\r
+been made earlier and that a battle should have been fought two days\r
+before. Others again spoke of the battle of Salamanca, which was\r
+described by Crosart, a newly arrived Frenchman in a Spanish uniform.\r
+(This Frenchman and one of the German princes serving with the Russian\r
+army were discussing the siege of Saragossa and considering the\r
+possibility of defending Moscow in a similar manner.) Count Rostopchin\r
+was telling a fourth group that he was prepared to die with the city\r
+train bands under the walls of the capital, but that he still could not\r
+help regretting having been left in ignorance of what was happening, and\r
+that had he known it sooner things would have been different.... A fifth\r
+group, displaying the profundity of their strategic perceptions,\r
+discussed the direction the troops would now have to take. A sixth group\r
+was talking absolute nonsense. Kutuzov's expression grew more and more\r
+preoccupied and gloomy. From all this talk he saw only one thing: that\r
+to defend Moscow was a physical impossibility in the full meaning of\r
+those words, that is to say, so utterly impossible that if any senseless\r
+commander were to give orders to fight, confusion would result but the\r
+battle would still not take place. It would not take place because the\r
+commanders not merely all recognized the position to be impossible, but\r
+in their conversations were only discussing what would happen after its\r
+inevitable abandonment. How could the commanders lead their troops to a\r
+field of battle they considered impossible to hold? The lower-grade\r
+officers and even the soldiers (who too reason) also considered the\r
+position impossible and therefore could not go to fight, fully convinced\r
+as they were of defeat. If Bennigsen insisted on the position being\r
+defended and others still discussed it, the question was no longer\r
+important in itself but only as a pretext for disputes and intrigue.\r
+This Kutuzov knew well.\r
+\r
+Bennigsen, who had chosen the position, warmly displayed his Russian\r
+patriotism (Kutuzov could not listen to this without wincing) by\r
+insisting that Moscow must be defended. His aim was as clear as daylight\r
+to Kutuzov: if the defense failed, to throw the blame on Kutuzov who had\r
+brought the army as far as the Sparrow Hills without giving battle; if\r
+it succeeded, to claim the success as his own; or if battle were not\r
+given, to clear himself of the crime of abandoning Moscow. But this\r
+intrigue did not now occupy the old man's mind. One terrible question\r
+absorbed him and to that question he heard no reply from anyone. The\r
+question for him now was: "Have I really allowed Napoleon to reach\r
+Moscow, and when did I do so? When was it decided? Can it have been\r
+yesterday when I ordered Platov to retreat, or was it the evening\r
+before, when I had a nap and told Bennigsen to issue orders? Or was it\r
+earlier still?... When, when was this terrible affair decided? Moscow\r
+must be abandoned. The army must retreat and the order to do so must be\r
+given." To give that terrible order seemed to him equivalent to\r
+resigning the command of the army. And not only did he love power to\r
+which he was accustomed (the honours awarded to Prince Prozorovski,\r
+under whom he had served in Turkey, galled him), but he was convinced\r
+that he was destined to save Russia and that that was why, against the\r
+Emperor's wish and by the will of the people, he had been chosen\r
+commander-in-chief. He was convinced that he alone could maintain\r
+command of the army in these difficult circumstances, and that in all\r
+the world he alone could encounter the invincible Napoleon without fear,\r
+and he was horrified at the thought of the order he had to issue. But\r
+something had to be decided, and these conversations around him which\r
+were assuming too free a character must be stopped.\r
+\r
+He called the most important generals to him.\r
+\r
+"My head, be it good or bad, must depend on itself," said he, rising\r
+from the bench, and he rode to Fili where his carriages were waiting.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+The Council of War began to assemble at two in the afternoon in the\r
+better and roomier part of Andrew Savostyanov's hut. The men, women, and\r
+children of the large peasant family crowded into the back room across\r
+the passage. Only Malasha, Andrew's six-year-old granddaughter whom his\r
+Serene Highness had petted and to whom he had given a lump of sugar\r
+while drinking his tea, remained on the top of the brick oven in the\r
+larger room. Malasha looked down from the oven with shy delight at the\r
+faces, uniforms, and decorations of the generals, who one after another\r
+came into the room and sat down on the broad benches in the corner under\r
+the icons. "Granddad" himself, as Malasha in her own mind called\r
+Kutuzov, sat apart in a dark corner behind the oven. He sat, sunk deep\r
+in a folding armchair, and continually cleared his throat and pulled at\r
+the collar of his coat which, though it was unbuttoned, still seemed to\r
+pinch his neck. Those who entered went up one by one to the field\r
+marshal; he pressed the hands of some and nodded to others. His adjutant\r
+Kaysarov was about to draw back the curtain of the window facing\r
+Kutuzov, but the latter moved his hand angrily and Kaysarov understood\r
+that his Serene Highness did not wish his face to be seen.\r
+\r
+Round the peasant's deal table, on which lay maps, plans, pencils, and\r
+papers, so many people gathered that the orderlies brought in another\r
+bench and put it beside the table. Ermolov, Kaysarov, and Toll, who had\r
+just arrived, sat down on this bench. In the foremost place, immediately\r
+under the icons, sat Barclay de Tolly, his high forehead merging into\r
+his bald crown. He had a St. George's Cross round his neck and looked\r
+pale and ill. He had been feverish for two days and was now shivering\r
+and in pain. Beside him sat Uvarov, who with rapid gesticulations was\r
+giving him some information, speaking in low tones as they all did.\r
+Chubby little Dokhturov was listening attentively with eyebrows raised\r
+and arms folded on his stomach. On the other side sat Count Ostermann-\r
+Tolstoy, seemingly absorbed in his own thoughts. His broad head with its\r
+bold features and glittering eyes was resting on his hand. Raevski,\r
+twitching forward the black hair on his temples as was his habit,\r
+glanced now at Kutuzov and now at the door with a look of impatience.\r
+Konovnitsyn's firm, handsome, and kindly face was lit up by a tender,\r
+sly smile. His glance met Malasha's, and the expression of his eyes\r
+caused the little girl to smile.\r
+\r
+They were all waiting for Bennigsen, who on the pretext of inspecting\r
+the position was finishing his savory dinner. They waited for him from\r
+four till six o'clock and did not begin their deliberations all that\r
+time but talked in low tones of other matters.\r
+\r
+Only when Bennigsen had entered the hut did Kutuzov leave his corner and\r
+draw toward the table, but not near enough for the candles that had been\r
+placed there to light up his face.\r
+\r
+Bennigsen opened the council with the question: "Are we to abandon\r
+Russia's ancient and sacred capital without a struggle, or are we to\r
+defend it?" A prolonged and general silence followed. There was a frown\r
+on every face and only Kutuzov's angry grunts and occasional cough broke\r
+the silence. All eyes were gazing at him. Malasha too looked at\r
+"Granddad." She was nearest to him and saw how his face puckered; he\r
+seemed about to cry, but this did not last long.\r
+\r
+"Russia's ancient and sacred capital!" he suddenly said, repeating\r
+Bennigsen's words in an angry voice and thereby drawing attention to the\r
+false note in them. "Allow me to tell you, your excellency, that that\r
+question has no meaning for a Russian." (He lurched his heavy body\r
+forward.) "Such a question cannot be put; it is senseless! The question\r
+I have asked these gentlemen to meet to discuss is a military one. The\r
+question is that of saving Russia. Is it better to give up Moscow\r
+without a battle, or by accepting battle to risk losing the army as well\r
+as Moscow? That is the question on which I want your opinion," and he\r
+sank back in his chair.\r
+\r
+The discussion began. Bennigsen did not yet consider his game lost.\r
+Admitting the view of Barclay and others that a defensive battle at Fili\r
+was impossible, but imbued with Russian patriotism and the love of\r
+Moscow, he proposed to move troops from the right to the left flank\r
+during the night and attack the French right flank the following day.\r
+Opinions were divided, and arguments were advanced for and against that\r
+project. Ermolov, Dokhturov, and Raevski agreed with Bennigsen. Whether\r
+feeling it necessary to make a sacrifice before abandoning the capital\r
+or guided by other, personal considerations, these generals seemed not\r
+to understand that this council could not alter the inevitable course of\r
+events and that Moscow was in effect already abandoned. The other\r
+generals, however, understood it and, leaving aside the question of\r
+Moscow, spoke of the direction the army should take in its retreat.\r
+Malasha, who kept her eyes fixed on what was going on before her,\r
+understood the meaning of the council differently. It seemed to her that\r
+it was only a personal struggle between "Granddad" and "Long-coat" as\r
+she termed Bennigsen. She saw that they grew spiteful when they spoke to\r
+one another, and in her heart she sided with "Granddad." In the midst of\r
+the conversation she noticed "Granddad" give Bennigsen a quick, subtle\r
+glance, and then to her joys he saw that "Granddad" said something to\r
+"Long-coat" which settled him. Bennigsen suddenly reddened and paced\r
+angrily up and down the room. What so affected him was Kutuzov's calm\r
+and quiet comment on the advantage or disadvantage of Bennigsen's\r
+proposal to move troops by night from the right to the left flank to\r
+attack the French right wing.\r
+\r
+"Gentlemen," said Kutuzov, "I cannot approve of the count's plan. Moving\r
+troops in close proximity to an enemy is always dangerous, and military\r
+history supports that view. For instance..." Kutuzov seemed to reflect,\r
+searching for an example, then with a clear, naive look at Bennigsen he\r
+added: "Oh yes; take the battle of Friedland, which I think the count\r
+well remembers, and which was... not fully successful, only because our\r
+troops were rearranged too near the enemy..."\r
+\r
+There followed a momentary pause, which seemed very long to them all.\r
+\r
+The discussion recommenced, but pauses frequently occurred and they all\r
+felt that there was no more to be said.\r
+\r
+During one of these pauses Kutuzov heaved a deep sigh as if preparing to\r
+speak. They all looked at him.\r
+\r
+"Well, gentlemen, I see that it is I who will have to pay for the broken\r
+crockery," said he, and rising slowly he moved to the table. "Gentlemen,\r
+I have heard your views. Some of you will not agree with me. But I," he\r
+paused, "by the authority entrusted to me by my Sovereign and country,\r
+order a retreat."\r
+\r
+After that the generals began to disperse with the solemnity and\r
+circumspect silence of people who are leaving, after a funeral.\r
+\r
+Some of the generals, in low tones and in a strain very different from\r
+the way they had spoken during the council, communicated something to\r
+their commander-in-chief.\r
+\r
+Malasha, who had long been expected for supper, climbed carefully\r
+backwards down from the oven, her bare little feet catching at its\r
+projections, and slipping between the legs of the generals she darted\r
+out of the room.\r
+\r
+When he had dismissed the generals Kutuzov sat a long time with his\r
+elbows on the table, thinking always of the same terrible question:\r
+"When, when did the abandonment of Moscow become inevitable? When was\r
+that done which settled the matter? And who was to blame for it?"\r
+\r
+"I did not expect this," said he to his adjutant Schneider when the\r
+latter came in late that night. "I did not expect this! I did not think\r
+this would happen."\r
+\r
+"You should take some rest, your Serene Highness," replied Schneider.\r
+\r
+"But no! They shall eat horseflesh yet, like the Turks!" exclaimed\r
+Kutuzov without replying, striking the table with his podgy fist. "They\r
+shall too, if only..."\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+At that very time, in circumstances even more important than retreating\r
+without a battle, namely the evacuation and burning of Moscow,\r
+Rostopchin, who is usually represented as being the instigator of that\r
+event, acted in an altogether different manner from Kutuzov.\r
+\r
+After the battle of Borodino the abandonment and burning of Moscow was\r
+as inevitable as the retreat of the army beyond Moscow without fighting.\r
+\r
+Every Russian might have predicted it, not by reasoning but by the\r
+feeling implanted in each of us and in our fathers.\r
+\r
+The same thing that took place in Moscow had happened in all the towns\r
+and villages on Russian soil beginning with Smolensk, without the\r
+participation of Count Rostopchin and his broadsheets. The people\r
+awaited the enemy unconcernedly, did not riot or become excited or tear\r
+anyone to pieces, but faced its fate, feeling within it the strength to\r
+find what it should do at that most difficult moment. And as soon as the\r
+enemy drew near the wealthy classes went away abandoning their property,\r
+while the poorer remained and burned and destroyed what was left.\r
+\r
+The consciousness that this would be so and would always be so was and\r
+is present in the heart of every Russian. And a consciousness of this,\r
+and a foreboding that Moscow would be taken, was present in Russian\r
+Moscow society in 1812. Those who had quitted Moscow already in July and\r
+at the beginning of August showed that they expected this. Those who\r
+went away, taking what they could and abandoning their houses and half\r
+their belongings, did so from the latent patriotism which expresses\r
+itself not by phrases or by giving one's children to save the fatherland\r
+and similar unnatural exploits, but unobtrusively, simply, organically,\r
+and therefore in the way that always produces the most powerful results.\r
+\r
+"It is disgraceful to run away from danger; only cowards are running\r
+away from Moscow," they were told. In his broadsheets Rostopchin\r
+impressed on them that to leave Moscow was shameful. They were ashamed\r
+to be called cowards, ashamed to leave, but still they left, knowing it\r
+had to be done. Why did they go? It is impossible to suppose that\r
+Rostopchin had scared them by his accounts of horrors Napoleon had\r
+committed in conquered countries. The first people to go away were the\r
+rich educated people who knew quite well that Vienna and Berlin had\r
+remained intact and that during Napoleon's occupation the inhabitants\r
+had spent their time pleasantly in the company of the charming Frenchmen\r
+whom the Russians, and especially the Russian ladies, then liked so\r
+much.\r
+\r
+They went away because for Russians there could be no question as to\r
+whether things would go well or ill under French rule in Moscow. It was\r
+out of the question to be under French rule, it would be the worst thing\r
+that could happen. They went away even before the battle of Borodino and\r
+still more rapidly after it, despite Rostopchin's calls to defend Moscow\r
+or the announcement of his intention to take the wonder-working icon of\r
+the Iberian Mother of God and go to fight, or of the balloons that were\r
+to destroy the French, and despite all the nonsense Rostopchin wrote in\r
+his broadsheets. They knew that it was for the army to fight, and that\r
+if it could not succeed it would not do to take young ladies and house\r
+serfs to the Three Hills quarter of Moscow to fight Napoleon, and that\r
+they must go away, sorry as they were to abandon their property to\r
+destruction. They went away without thinking of the tremendous\r
+significance of that immense and wealthy city being given over to\r
+destruction, for a great city with wooden buildings was certain when\r
+abandoned by its inhabitants to be burned. They went away each on his\r
+own account, and yet it was only in consequence of their going away that\r
+the momentous event was accomplished that will always remain the\r
+greatest glory of the Russian people. The lady who, afraid of being\r
+stopped by Count Rostopchin's orders, had already in June moved with her\r
+Negroes and her women jesters from Moscow to her Saratov estate, with a\r
+vague consciousness that she was not Bonaparte's servant, was really,\r
+simply, and truly carrying out the great work which saved Russia. But\r
+Count Rostopchin, who now taunted those who left Moscow and now had the\r
+government offices removed; now distributed quite useless weapons to the\r
+drunken rabble; now had processions displaying the icons, and now\r
+forbade Father Augustin to remove icons or the relics of saints; now\r
+seized all the private carts in Moscow and on one hundred and thirty-six\r
+of them removed the balloon that was being constructed by Leppich; now\r
+hinted that he would burn Moscow and related how he had set fire to his\r
+own house; now wrote a proclamation to the French solemnly upbraiding\r
+them for having destroyed his Orphanage; now claimed the glory of having\r
+hinted that he would burn Moscow and now repudiated the deed; now\r
+ordered the people to catch all spies and bring them to him, and now\r
+reproached them for doing so; now expelled all the French residents from\r
+Moscow, and now allowed Madame Aubert-Chalme (the center of the whole\r
+French colony in Moscow) to remain, but ordered the venerable old\r
+postmaster Klyucharev to be arrested and exiled for no particular\r
+offense; now assembled the people at the Three Hills to fight the French\r
+and now, to get rid of them, handed over to them a man to be killed and\r
+himself drove away by a back gate; now declared that he would not\r
+survive the fall of Moscow, and now wrote French verses in albums\r
+concerning his share in the affair--this man did not understand the\r
+meaning of what was happening but merely wanted to do something himself\r
+that would astonish people, to perform some patriotically heroic feat;\r
+and like a child he made sport of the momentous, and unavoidable event--\r
+the abandonment and burning of Moscow--and tried with his puny hand now\r
+to speed and now to stay the enormous, popular tide that bore him along\r
+with it.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+Helene, having returned with the court from Vilna to Petersburg, found\r
+herself in a difficult position.\r
+\r
+In Petersburg she had enjoyed the special protection of a grandee who\r
+occupied one of the highest posts in the Empire. In Vilna she had formed\r
+an intimacy with a young foreign prince. When she returned to Petersburg\r
+both the magnate and the prince were there, and both claimed their\r
+rights. Helene was faced by a new problem--how to preserve her intimacy\r
+with both without offending either.\r
+\r
+What would have seemed difficult or even impossible to another woman did\r
+not cause the least embarrassment to Countess Bezukhova, who evidently\r
+deserved her reputation of being a very clever woman. Had she attempted\r
+concealment, or tried to extricate herself from her awkward position by\r
+cunning, she would have spoiled her case by acknowledging herself\r
+guilty. But Helene, like a really great man who can do whatever he\r
+pleases, at once assumed her own position to be correct, as she\r
+sincerely believed it to be, and that everyone else was to blame.\r
+\r
+The first time the young foreigner allowed himself to reproach her, she\r
+lifted her beautiful head and, half turning to him, said firmly: "That's\r
+just like a man--selfish and cruel! I expected nothing else. A woman\r
+sacrifices herself for you, she suffers, and this is her reward! What\r
+right have you, monseigneur, to demand an account of my attachments and\r
+friendships? He is a man who has been more than a father to me!" The\r
+prince was about to say something, but Helene interrupted him.\r
+\r
+"Well, yes," said she, "it may be that he has other sentiments for me\r
+than those of a father, but that is not a reason for me to shut my door\r
+on him. I am not a man, that I should repay kindness with ingratitude!\r
+Know, monseigneur, that in all that relates to my intimate feelings I\r
+render account only to God and to my conscience," she concluded, laying\r
+her hand on her beautiful, fully expanded bosom and looking up to\r
+heaven.\r
+\r
+"But for heaven's sake listen to me!"\r
+\r
+"Marry me, and I will be your slave!"\r
+\r
+"But that's impossible."\r
+\r
+"You won't deign to demean yourself by marrying me, you..." said Helene,\r
+beginning to cry.\r
+\r
+The prince tried to comfort her, but Helene, as if quite distraught,\r
+said through her tears that there was nothing to prevent her marrying,\r
+that there were precedents (there were up to that time very few, but she\r
+mentioned Napoleon and some other exalted personages), that she had\r
+never been her husband's wife, and that she had been sacrificed.\r
+\r
+"But the law, religion..." said the prince, already yielding.\r
+\r
+"The law, religion... What have they been invented for if they can't\r
+arrange that?" said Helene.\r
+\r
+The prince was surprised that so simple an idea had not occurred to him,\r
+and he applied for advice to the holy brethren of the Society of Jesus,\r
+with whom he was on intimate terms.\r
+\r
+A few days later at one of those enchanting fetes which Helene gave at\r
+her country house on the Stone Island, the charming Monsieur de Jobert,\r
+a man no longer young, with snow white hair and brilliant black eyes, a\r
+Jesuit a robe courte * was presented to her, and in the garden by the\r
+light of the illuminations and to the sound of music talked to her for a\r
+long time of the love of God, of Christ, of the Sacred Heart, and of the\r
+consolations the one true Catholic religion affords in this world and\r
+the next. Helene was touched, and more than once tears rose to her eyes\r
+and to those of Monsieur de Jobert and their voices trembled. A dance,\r
+for which her partner came to seek her, put an end to her discourse with\r
+her future directeur de conscience, but the next evening Monsieur de\r
+Jobert came to see Helene when she was alone, and after that often came\r
+again.\r
+\r
+\r
+* Lay member of the Society of Jesus.\r
+\r
+One day he took the countess to a Roman Catholic church, where she knelt\r
+down before the altar to which she was led. The enchanting, middle-aged\r
+Frenchman laid his hands on her head and, as she herself afterward\r
+described it, she felt something like a fresh breeze wafted into her\r
+soul. It was explained to her that this was la grace.\r
+\r
+After that a long-frocked abbe was brought to her. She confessed to him,\r
+and he absolved her from her sins. Next day she received a box\r
+containing the Sacred Host, which was left at her house for her to\r
+partake of. A few days later Helene learned with pleasure that she had\r
+now been admitted to the true Catholic Church and that in a few days the\r
+Pope himself would hear of her and would send her a certain document.\r
+\r
+All that was done around her and to her at this time, all the attention\r
+devoted to her by so many clever men and expressed in such pleasant,\r
+refined ways, and the state of dove-like purity she was now in (she wore\r
+only white dresses and white ribbons all that time) gave her pleasure,\r
+but her pleasure did not cause her for a moment to forget her aim. And\r
+as it always happens in contests of cunning that a stupid person gets\r
+the better of cleverer ones, Helene--having realized that the main\r
+object of all these words and all this trouble was, after converting her\r
+to Catholicism, to obtain money from her for Jesuit institutions (as to\r
+which she received indications)-before parting with her money insisted\r
+that the various operations necessary to free her from her husband\r
+should be performed. In her view the aim of every religion was merely to\r
+preserve certain proprieties while affording satisfaction to human\r
+desires. And with this aim, in one of her talks with her Father\r
+Confessor, she insisted on an answer to the question, in how far was she\r
+bound by her marriage?\r
+\r
+They were sitting in the twilight by a window in the drawing room. The\r
+scent of flowers came in at the window. Helene was wearing a white\r
+dress, transparent over her shoulders and bosom. The abbe, a well-fed\r
+man with a plump, clean-shaven chin, a pleasant firm mouth, and white\r
+hands meekly folded on his knees, sat close to Helene and, with a subtle\r
+smile on his lips and a peaceful look of delight at her beauty,\r
+occasionally glanced at her face as he explained his opinion on the\r
+subject. Helene with an uneasy smile looked at his curly hair and his\r
+plump, clean-shaven, blackish cheeks and every moment expected the\r
+conversation to take a fresh turn. But the abbe, though he evidently\r
+enjoyed the beauty of his companion, was absorbed in his mastery of the\r
+matter.\r
+\r
+The course of the Father Confessor's arguments ran as follows: "Ignorant\r
+of the import of what you were undertaking, you made a vow of conjugal\r
+fidelity to a man who on his part, by entering the married state without\r
+faith in the religious significance of marriage, committed an act of\r
+sacrilege. That marriage lacked the dual significance it should have\r
+had. Yet in spite of this your vow was binding. You swerved from it.\r
+What did you commit by so acting? A venial, or a mortal, sin? A venial\r
+sin, for you acted without evil intention. If now you married again with\r
+the object of bearing children, your sin might be forgiven. But the\r
+question is again a twofold one: firstly..."\r
+\r
+But suddenly Helene, who was getting bored, said with one of her\r
+bewitching smiles: "But I think that having espoused the true religion I\r
+cannot be bound by what a false religion laid upon me."\r
+\r
+The director of her conscience was astounded at having the case\r
+presented to him thus with the simplicity of Columbus' egg. He was\r
+delighted at the unexpected rapidity of his pupil's progress, but could\r
+not abandon the edifice of argument he had laboriously constructed.\r
+\r
+"Let us understand one another, Countess," said he with a smile, and\r
+began refuting his spiritual daughter's arguments.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+Helene understood that the question was very simple and easy from the\r
+ecclesiastical point of view, and that her directors were making\r
+difficulties only because they were apprehensive as to how the matter\r
+would be regarded by the secular authorities.\r
+\r
+So she decided that it was necessary to prepare the opinion of society.\r
+She provoked the jealousy of the elderly magnate and told him what she\r
+had told her other suitor; that is, she put the matter so that the only\r
+way for him to obtain a right over her was to marry her. The elderly\r
+magnate was at first as much taken aback by this suggestion of marriage\r
+with a woman whose husband was alive, as the younger man had been, but\r
+Helene's imperturbable conviction that it was as simple and natural as\r
+marrying a maiden had its effect on him too. Had Helene herself shown\r
+the least sign of hesitation, shame, or secrecy, her cause would\r
+certainly have been lost; but not only did she show no signs of secrecy\r
+or shame, on the contrary, with good-natured naivete she told her\r
+intimate friends (and these were all Petersburg) that both the prince\r
+and the magnate had proposed to her and that she loved both and was\r
+afraid of grieving either.\r
+\r
+A rumor immediately spread in Petersburg, not that Helene wanted to be\r
+divorced from her husband (had such a report spread many would have\r
+opposed so illegal an intention) but simply that the unfortunate and\r
+interesting Helene was in doubt which of the two men she should marry.\r
+The question was no longer whether this was possible, but only which was\r
+the better match and how the matter would be regarded at court. There\r
+were, it is true, some rigid individuals unable to rise to the height of\r
+such a question, who saw in the project a desecration of the sacrament\r
+of marriage, but there were not many such and they remained silent,\r
+while the majority were interested in Helene's good fortune and in the\r
+question which match would be the more advantageous. Whether it was\r
+right or wrong to remarry while one had a husband living they did not\r
+discuss, for that question had evidently been settled by people "wiser\r
+than you or me," as they said, and to doubt the correctness of that\r
+decision would be to risk exposing one's stupidity and incapacity to\r
+live in society.\r
+\r
+Only Marya Dmitrievna Akhrosimova, who had come to Petersburg that\r
+summer to see one of her sons, allowed herself plainly to express an\r
+opinion contrary to the general one. Meeting Helene at a ball she\r
+stopped her in the middle of the room and, amid general silence, said in\r
+her gruff voice: "So wives of living men have started marrying again!\r
+Perhaps you think you have invented a novelty? You have been\r
+forestalled, my dear! It was thought of long ago. It is done in all the\r
+brothels," and with these words Marya Dmitrievna, turning up her wide\r
+sleeves with her usual threatening gesture and glancing sternly round,\r
+moved across the room.\r
+\r
+Though people were afraid of Marya Dmitrievna she was regarded in\r
+Petersburg as a buffoon, and so of what she had said they only noticed,\r
+and repeated in a whisper, the one coarse word she had used, supposing\r
+the whole sting of her remark to lie in that word.\r
+\r
+Prince Vasili, who of late very often forgot what he had said and\r
+repeated one and the same thing a hundred times, remarked to his\r
+daughter whenever he chanced to see her:\r
+\r
+"Helene, I have a word to say to you," and he would lead her aside,\r
+drawing her hand downward. "I have heard of certain projects\r
+concerning... you know. Well my dear child, you know how your father's\r
+heart rejoices to know that you... You have suffered so much.... But, my\r
+dear child, consult only your own heart. That is all I have to say," and\r
+concealing his unvarying emotion he would press his cheek against his\r
+daughter's and move away.\r
+\r
+Bilibin, who had not lost his reputation of an exceedingly clever man,\r
+and who was one of the disinterested friends so brilliant a woman as\r
+Helene always has--men friends who can never change into lovers--once\r
+gave her his view of the matter at a small and intimate gathering.\r
+\r
+"Listen, Bilibin," said Helene (she always called friends of that sort\r
+by their surnames), and she touched his coat sleeve with her white,\r
+beringed fingers. "Tell me, as you would a sister, what I ought to do.\r
+Which of the two?"\r
+\r
+Bilibin wrinkled up the skin over his eyebrows and pondered, with a\r
+smile on his lips.\r
+\r
+"You are not taking me unawares, you know," said he. "As a true friend,\r
+I have thought and thought again about your affair. You see, if you\r
+marry the prince"--he meant the younger man--and he crooked one finger,\r
+"you forever lose the chance of marrying the other, and you will\r
+displease the court besides. (You know there is some kind of\r
+connection.) But if you marry the old count you will make his last days\r
+happy, and as widow of the Grand... the prince would no longer be making\r
+a mesalliance by marrying you," and Bilibin smoothed out his forehead.\r
+\r
+"That's a true friend!" said Helene beaming, and again touching\r
+Bilibin's sleeve. "But I love them, you know, and don't want to distress\r
+either of them. I would give my life for the happiness of them both."\r
+\r
+Bilibin shrugged his shoulders, as much as to say that not even he could\r
+help in that difficulty.\r
+\r
+"Une maitresse-femme! * That's what is called putting things squarely.\r
+She would like to be married to all three at the same time," thought he.\r
+\r
+\r
+* A masterly woman.\r
+\r
+"But tell me, how will your husband look at the matter?" Bilibin asked,\r
+his reputation being so well established that he did not fear to ask so\r
+naive a question. "Will he agree?"\r
+\r
+"Oh, he loves me so!" said Helene, who for some reason imagined that\r
+Pierre too loved her. "He will do anything for me."\r
+\r
+Bilibin puckered his skin in preparation for something witty.\r
+\r
+"Even divorce you?" said he.\r
+\r
+Helene laughed.\r
+\r
+Among those who ventured to doubt the justifiability of the proposed\r
+marriage was Helene's mother, Princess Kuragina. She was continually\r
+tormented by jealousy of her daughter, and now that jealousy concerned a\r
+subject near to her own heart, she could not reconcile herself to the\r
+idea. She consulted a Russian priest as to the possibility of divorce\r
+and remarriage during a husband's lifetime, and the priest told her that\r
+it was impossible, and to her delight showed her a text in the Gospel\r
+which (as it seemed to him) plainly forbids remarriage while the husband\r
+is alive.\r
+\r
+Armed with these arguments, which appeared to her unanswerable, she\r
+drove to her daughter's early one morning so as to find her alone.\r
+\r
+Having listened to her mother's objections, Helene smiled blandly and\r
+ironically.\r
+\r
+"But it says plainly: 'Whosoever shall marry her that is divorced...'"\r
+said the old princess.\r
+\r
+"Ah, Maman, ne dites pas de betises. Vous ne comprenez rien. Dans ma\r
+position j'ai des devoirs," * said Helene changing from Russian, in\r
+which language she always felt that her case did not sound quite clear,\r
+into French which suited it better.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Oh, Mamma, don't talk nonsense! You don't understand anything. In my\r
+position I have obligations."\r
+\r
+"But, my dear...."\r
+\r
+"Oh, Mamma, how is it you don't understand that the Holy Father, who has\r
+the right to grant dispensations..."\r
+\r
+Just then the lady companion who lived with Helene came in to announce\r
+that His Highness was in the ballroom and wished to see her.\r
+\r
+"Non, dites-lui que je ne veux pas le voir, que je suis furieuse contre\r
+lui, parce qu'il m'a manque parole." *\r
+\r
+\r
+* "No, tell him I don't wish to see him, I am furious with him for not\r
+keeping his word to me."\r
+\r
+"Comtesse, a tout peche misericorde," * said a fair-haired young man\r
+with a long face and nose, as he entered the room.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Countess, there is mercy for every sin."\r
+\r
+The old princess rose respectfully and curtsied. The young man who had\r
+entered took no notice of her. The princess nodded to her daughter and\r
+sidled out of the room.\r
+\r
+"Yes, she is right," thought the old princess, all her convictions\r
+dissipated by the appearance of His Highness. "She is right, but how is\r
+it that we in our irrecoverable youth did not know it? Yet it is so\r
+simple," she thought as she got into her carriage.\r
+\r
+By the beginning of August Helene's affairs were clearly defined and she\r
+wrote a letter to her husband--who, as she imagined, loved her very\r
+much--informing him of her intention to marry N.N. and of her having\r
+embraced the one true faith, and asking him to carry out all the\r
+formalities necessary for a divorce, which would be explained to him by\r
+the bearer of the letter.\r
+\r
+And so I pray God to have you, my friend, in His holy and powerful\r
+keeping--Your friend Helene.\r
+\r
+This letter was brought to Pierre's house when he was on the field of\r
+Borodino.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+Toward the end of the battle of Borodino, Pierre, having run down from\r
+Raevski's battery a second time, made his way through a gully to\r
+Knyazkovo with a crowd of soldiers, reached the dressing station, and\r
+seeing blood and hearing cries and groans hurried on, still entangled in\r
+the crowds of soldiers.\r
+\r
+The one thing he now desired with his whole soul was to get away quickly\r
+from the terrible sensations amid which he had lived that day and return\r
+to ordinary conditions of life and sleep quietly in a room in his own\r
+bed. He felt that only in the ordinary conditions of life would he be\r
+able to understand himself and all he had seen and felt. But such\r
+ordinary conditions of life were nowhere to be found.\r
+\r
+Though shells and bullets did not whistle over the road along which he\r
+was going, still on all sides there was what there had been on the field\r
+of battle. There were still the same suffering, exhausted, and sometimes\r
+strangely indifferent faces, the same blood, the same soldiers'\r
+overcoats, the same sounds of firing which, though distant now, still\r
+aroused terror, and besides this there were the foul air and the dust.\r
+\r
+Having gone a couple of miles along the Mozhaysk road, Pierre sat down\r
+by the roadside.\r
+\r
+Dusk had fallen, and the roar of guns died away. Pierre lay leaning on\r
+his elbow for a long time, gazing at the shadows that moved past him in\r
+the darkness. He was continually imagining that a cannon ball was flying\r
+toward him with a terrific whizz, and then he shuddered and sat up. He\r
+had no idea how long he had been there. In the middle of the night three\r
+soldiers, having brought some firewood, settled down near him and began\r
+lighting a fire.\r
+\r
+The soldiers, who threw sidelong glances at Pierre, got the fire to burn\r
+and placed an iron pot on it into which they broke some dried bread and\r
+put a little dripping. The pleasant odor of greasy viands mingled with\r
+the smell of smoke. Pierre sat up and sighed. The three soldiers were\r
+eating and talking among themselves, taking no notice of him.\r
+\r
+"And who may you be?" one of them suddenly asked Pierre, evidently\r
+meaning what Pierre himself had in mind, namely: "If you want to eat\r
+we'll give you some food, only let us know whether you are an honest\r
+man."\r
+\r
+"I, I..." said Pierre, feeling it necessary to minimize his social\r
+position as much as possible so as to be nearer to the soldiers and\r
+better understood by them. "By rights I am a militia officer, but my men\r
+are not here. I came to the battle and have lost them."\r
+\r
+"There now!" said one of the soldiers.\r
+\r
+Another shook his head.\r
+\r
+"Would you like a little mash?" the first soldier asked, and handed\r
+Pierre a wooden spoon after licking it clean.\r
+\r
+Pierre sat down by the fire and began eating the mash, as they called\r
+the food in the cauldron, and he thought it more delicious than any food\r
+he had ever tasted. As he sat bending greedily over it, helping himself\r
+to large spoonfuls and chewing one after another, his face was lit up by\r
+the fire and the soldiers looked at him in silence.\r
+\r
+"Where have you to go to? Tell us!" said one of them.\r
+\r
+"To Mozhaysk."\r
+\r
+"You're a gentleman, aren't you?"\r
+\r
+"Yes."\r
+\r
+"And what's your name?"\r
+\r
+"Peter Kirilych."\r
+\r
+"Well then, Peter Kirilych, come along with us, we'll take you there."\r
+\r
+In the total darkness the soldiers walked with Pierre to Mozhaysk.\r
+\r
+By the time they got near Mozhaysk and began ascending the steep hill\r
+into the town, the cocks were already crowing. Pierre went on with the\r
+soldiers, quite forgetting that his inn was at the bottom of the hill\r
+and that he had already passed it. He would not soon have remembered\r
+this, such was his state of forgetfulness, had he not halfway up the\r
+hill stumbled upon his groom, who had been to look for him in the town\r
+and was returning to the inn. The groom recognized Pierre in the\r
+darkness by his white hat.\r
+\r
+"Your excellency!" he said. "Why, we were beginning to despair! How is\r
+it you are on foot? And where are you going, please?"\r
+\r
+"Oh, yes!" said Pierre.\r
+\r
+The soldiers stopped.\r
+\r
+"So you've found your folk?" said one of them. "Well, good-by, Peter\r
+Kirilych--isn't it?"\r
+\r
+"Good-bye, Peter Kirilych!" Pierre heard the other voices repeat.\r
+\r
+"Good-bye!" he said and turned with his groom toward the inn.\r
+\r
+"I ought to give them something!" he thought, and felt in his pocket.\r
+"No, better not!" said another, inner voice.\r
+\r
+There was not a room to be had at the inn, they were all occupied.\r
+Pierre went out into the yard and, covering himself up head and all, lay\r
+down in his carriage.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+Scarcely had Pierre laid his head on the pillow before he felt himself\r
+falling asleep, but suddenly, almost with the distinctness of reality,\r
+he heard the boom, boom, boom of firing, the thud of projectiles, groans\r
+and cries, and smelled blood and powder, and a feeling of horror and\r
+dread of death seized him. Filled with fright he opened his eyes and\r
+lifted his head from under his cloak. All was tranquil in the yard. Only\r
+someone's orderly passed through the gateway, splashing through the mud,\r
+and talked to the innkeeper. Above Pierre's head some pigeons, disturbed\r
+by the movement he had made in sitting up, fluttered under the dark roof\r
+of the penthouse. The whole courtyard was permeated by a strong peaceful\r
+smell of stable yards, delightful to Pierre at that moment. He could see\r
+the clear starry sky between the dark roofs of two penthouses.\r
+\r
+"Thank God, there is no more of that!" he thought, covering up his head\r
+again. "Oh, what a terrible thing is fear, and how shamefully I yielded\r
+to it! But they... they were steady and calm all the time, to the\r
+end..." thought he.\r
+\r
+They, in Pierre's mind, were the soldiers, those who had been at the\r
+battery, those who had given him food, and those who had prayed before\r
+the icon. They, those strange men he had not previously known, stood out\r
+clearly and sharply from everyone else.\r
+\r
+"To be a soldier, just a soldier!" thought Pierre as he fell asleep, "to\r
+enter communal life completely, to be imbued by what makes them what\r
+they are. But how cast off all the superfluous, devilish burden of my\r
+outer man? There was a time when I could have done it. I could have run\r
+away from my father, as I wanted to. Or I might have been sent to serve\r
+as a soldier after the duel with Dolokhov." And the memory of the dinner\r
+at the English Club when he had challenged Dolokhov flashed through\r
+Pierre's mind, and then he remembered his benefactor at Torzhok. And now\r
+a picture of a solemn meeting of the lodge presented itself to his mind.\r
+It was taking place at the English Club and someone near and dear to him\r
+sat at the end of the table. "Yes, that is he! It is my benefactor. But\r
+he died!" thought Pierre. "Yes, he died, and I did not know he was\r
+alive. How sorry I am that he died, and how glad I am that he is alive\r
+again!" On one side of the table sat Anatole, Dolokhov, Nesvitski,\r
+Denisov, and others like them (in his dream the category to which these\r
+men belonged was as clearly defined in his mind as the category of those\r
+he termed they), and he heard those people, Anatole and Dolokhov,\r
+shouting and singing loudly; yet through their shouting the voice of his\r
+benefactor was heard speaking all the time and the sound of his words\r
+was as weighty and uninterrupted as the booming on the battlefield, but\r
+pleasant and comforting. Pierre did not understand what his benefactor\r
+was saying, but he knew (the categories of thoughts were also quite\r
+distinct in his dream) that he was talking of goodness and the\r
+possibility of being what they were. And they with their simple, kind,\r
+firm faces surrounded his benefactor on all sides. But though they were\r
+kindly they did not look at Pierre and did not know him. Wishing to\r
+speak and to attract their attention, he got up, but at that moment his\r
+legs grew cold and bare.\r
+\r
+He felt ashamed, and with one arm covered his legs from which his cloak\r
+had in fact slipped. For a moment as he was rearranging his cloak Pierre\r
+opened his eyes and saw the same penthouse roofs, posts, and yard, but\r
+now they were all bluish, lit up, and glittering with frost or dew.\r
+\r
+"It is dawn," thought Pierre. "But that's not what I want. I want to\r
+hear and understand my benefactor's words." Again he covered himself up\r
+with his cloak, but now neither the lodge nor his benefactor was there.\r
+There were only thoughts clearly expressed in words, thoughts that\r
+someone was uttering or that he himself was formulating.\r
+\r
+Afterwards when he recalled those thoughts Pierre was convinced that\r
+someone outside himself had spoken them, though the impressions of that\r
+day had evoked them. He had never, it seemed to him, been able to think\r
+and express his thoughts like that when awake.\r
+\r
+"To endure war is the most difficult subordination of man's freedom to\r
+the law of God," the voice had said. "Simplicity is submission to the\r
+will of God; you cannot escape from Him. And they are simple. They do\r
+not talk, but act. The spoken word is silver but the unspoken is golden.\r
+Man can be master of nothing while he fears death, but he who does not\r
+fear it possesses all. If there were no suffering, man would not know\r
+his limitations, would not know himself. The hardest thing (Pierre went\r
+on thinking, or hearing, in his dream) is to be able in your soul to\r
+unite the meaning of all. To unite all?" he asked himself. "No, not to\r
+unite. Thoughts cannot be united, but to harness all these thoughts\r
+together is what we need! Yes, one must harness them, must harness\r
+them!" he repeated to himself with inward rapture, feeling that these\r
+words and they alone expressed what he wanted to say and solved the\r
+question that tormented him.\r
+\r
+"Yes, one must harness, it is time to harness."\r
+\r
+"Time to harness, time to harness, your excellency! Your excellency!"\r
+some voice was repeating. "We must harness, it is time to harness...."\r
+\r
+It was the voice of the groom, trying to wake him. The sun shone\r
+straight into Pierre's face. He glanced at the dirty innyard in the\r
+middle of which soldiers were watering their lean horses at the pump\r
+while carts were passing out of the gate. Pierre turned away with\r
+repugnance, and closing his eyes quickly fell back on the carriage seat.\r
+"No, I don't want that, I don't want to see and understand that. I want\r
+to understand what was revealing itself to me in my dream. One second\r
+more and I should have understood it all! But what am I to do? Harness,\r
+but how can I harness everything?" and Pierre felt with horror that the\r
+meaning of all he had seen and thought in the dream had been destroyed.\r
+\r
+The groom, the coachman, and the innkeeper told Pierre that an officer\r
+had come with news that the French were already near Mozhaysk and that\r
+our men were leaving it.\r
+\r
+Pierre got up and, having told them to harness and overtake him, went on\r
+foot through the town.\r
+\r
+The troops were moving on, leaving about ten thousand wounded behind\r
+them. There were wounded in the yards, at the windows of the houses, and\r
+the streets were crowded with them. In the streets, around carts that\r
+were to take some of the wounded away, shouts, curses, and blows could\r
+be heard. Pierre offered the use of his carriage, which had overtaken\r
+him, to a wounded general he knew, and drove with him to Moscow. On the\r
+way Pierre was told of the death of his brother-in-law Anatole and of\r
+that of Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+On the thirteenth of August Pierre reached Moscow. Close to the gates of\r
+the city he was met by Count Rostopchin's adjutant.\r
+\r
+"We have been looking for you everywhere," said the adjutant. "The count\r
+wants to see you particularly. He asks you to come to him at once on a\r
+very important matter."\r
+\r
+Without going home, Pierre took a cab and drove to see the Moscow\r
+commander-in-chief.\r
+\r
+Count Rostopchin had only that morning returned to town from his summer\r
+villa at Sokolniki. The anteroom and reception room of his house were\r
+full of officials who had been summoned or had come for orders.\r
+Vasilchikov and Platov had already seen the count and explained to him\r
+that it was impossible to defend Moscow and that it would have to be\r
+surrendered. Though this news was being concealed from the inhabitants,\r
+the officials--the heads of the various government departments--knew\r
+that Moscow would soon be in the enemy's hands, just as Count Rostopchin\r
+himself knew it, and to escape personal responsibility they had all come\r
+to the governor to ask how they were to deal with their various\r
+departments.\r
+\r
+As Pierre was entering the reception room a courier from the army came\r
+out of Rostopchin's private room.\r
+\r
+In answer to questions with which he was greeted, the courier made a\r
+despairing gesture with his hand and passed through the room.\r
+\r
+While waiting in the reception room Pierre with weary eyes watched the\r
+various officials, old and young, military and civilian, who were there.\r
+They all seemed dissatisfied and uneasy. Pierre went up to a group of\r
+men, one of whom he knew. After greeting Pierre they continued their\r
+conversation.\r
+\r
+"If they're sent out and brought back again later on it will do no harm,\r
+but as things are now one can't answer for anything."\r
+\r
+"But you see what he writes..." said another, pointing to a printed\r
+sheet he held in his hand.\r
+\r
+"That's another matter. That's necessary for the people," said the\r
+first.\r
+\r
+"What is it?" asked Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Oh, it's a fresh broadsheet."\r
+\r
+Pierre took it and began reading.\r
+\r
+His Serene Highness has passed through Mozhaysk in order to join up with\r
+the troops moving toward him and has taken up a strong position where\r
+the enemy will not soon attack him. Forty eight guns with ammunition\r
+have been sent him from here, and his Serene Highness says he will\r
+defend Moscow to the last drop of blood and is even ready to fight in\r
+the streets. Do not be upset, brothers, that the law courts are closed;\r
+things have to be put in order, and we will deal with villains in our\r
+own way! When the time comes I shall want both town and peasant lads and\r
+will raise the cry a day or two beforehand, but they are not wanted yet\r
+so I hold my peace. An ax will be useful, a hunting spear not bad, but a\r
+three-pronged fork will be best of all: a Frenchman is no heavier than a\r
+sheaf of rye. Tomorrow after dinner I shall take the Iberian icon of the\r
+Mother of God to the wounded in the Catherine Hospital where we will\r
+have some water blessed. That will help them to get well quicker. I,\r
+too, am well now: one of my eyes was sore but now I am on the lookout\r
+with both.\r
+\r
+"But military men have told me that it is impossible to fight in the\r
+town," said Pierre, "and that the position..."\r
+\r
+"Well, of course! That's what we were saying," replied the first\r
+speaker.\r
+\r
+"And what does he mean by 'One of my eyes was sore but now I am on the\r
+lookout with both'?" asked Pierre.\r
+\r
+"The count had a sty," replied the adjutant smiling, "and was very much\r
+upset when I told him people had come to ask what was the matter with\r
+him. By the by, Count," he added suddenly, addressing Pierre with a\r
+smile, "we heard that you have family troubles and that the countess,\r
+your wife..."\r
+\r
+"I have heard nothing," Pierre replied unconcernedly. "But what have you\r
+heard?"\r
+\r
+"Oh, well, you know people often invent things. I only say what I\r
+heard."\r
+\r
+"But what did you hear?"\r
+\r
+"Well, they say," continued the adjutant with the same smile, "that the\r
+countess, your wife, is preparing to go abroad. I expect it's\r
+nonsense...."\r
+\r
+"Possibly," remarked Pierre, looking about him absent-mindedly. "And who\r
+is that?" he asked, indicating a short old man in a clean blue peasant\r
+overcoat, with a big snow-white beard and eyebrows and a ruddy face.\r
+\r
+"He? That's a tradesman, that is to say, he's the restaurant keeper,\r
+Vereshchagin. Perhaps you have heard of that affair with the\r
+proclamation."\r
+\r
+"Oh, so that is Vereshchagin!" said Pierre, looking at the firm, calm\r
+face of the old man and seeking any indication of his being a traitor.\r
+\r
+"That's not he himself, that's the father of the fellow who wrote the\r
+proclamation," said the adjutant. "The young man is in prison and I\r
+expect it will go hard with him."\r
+\r
+An old gentleman wearing a star and another official, a German wearing a\r
+cross round his neck, approached the speaker.\r
+\r
+\r
+"It's a complicated story, you know," said the adjutant. "That\r
+proclamation appeared about two months ago. The count was informed of\r
+it. He gave orders to investigate the matter. Gabriel Ivanovich here\r
+made the inquiries. The proclamation had passed through exactly sixty-\r
+three hands. He asked one, 'From whom did you get it?' 'From so-and-so.'\r
+He went to the next one. 'From whom did you get it?' and so on till he\r
+reached Vereshchagin, a half educated tradesman, you know, 'a pet of a\r
+trader,'" said the adjutant smiling. "They asked him, 'Who gave it you?'\r
+And the point is that we knew whom he had it from. He could only have\r
+had it from the Postmaster. But evidently they had come to some\r
+understanding. He replied: 'From no one; I made it up myself.' They\r
+threatened and questioned him, but he stuck to that: 'I made it up\r
+myself.' And so it was reported to the count, who sent for the man.\r
+'From whom did you get the proclamation?' 'I wrote it myself.' Well, you\r
+know the count," said the adjutant cheerfully, with a smile of pride,\r
+"he flared up dreadfully--and just think of the fellow's audacity,\r
+lying, and obstinacy!"\r
+\r
+"And the count wanted him to say it was from Klyucharev? I understand!"\r
+said Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Not at all," rejoined the adjutant in dismay. "Klyucharev had his own\r
+sins to answer for without that and that is why he has been banished.\r
+But the point is that the count was much annoyed. 'How could you have\r
+written it yourself?' said he, and he took up the Hamburg Gazette that\r
+was lying on the table. 'Here it is! You did not write it yourself but\r
+translated it, and translated it abominably, because you don't even know\r
+French, you fool.' And what do you think? 'No,' said he, 'I have not\r
+read any papers, I made it up myself.' 'If that's so, you're a traitor\r
+and I'll have you tried, and you'll be hanged! Say from whom you had\r
+it.' 'I have seen no papers, I made it up myself.' And that was the end\r
+of it. The count had the father fetched, but the fellow stuck to it. He\r
+was sent for trial and condemned to hard labor, I believe. Now the\r
+father has come to intercede for him. But he's a good-for-nothing lad!\r
+You know that sort of tradesman's son, a dandy and lady-killer. He\r
+attended some lectures somewhere and imagines that the devil is no match\r
+for him. That's the sort of fellow he is. His father keeps a cookshop\r
+here by the Stone Bridge, and you know there was a large icon of God\r
+Almighty painted with a scepter in one hand and an orb in the other.\r
+Well, he took that icon home with him for a few days and what did he do?\r
+He found some scoundrel of a painter..."\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+In the middle of this fresh tale Pierre was summoned to the commander in\r
+chief.\r
+\r
+When he entered the private room Count Rostopchin, puckering his face,\r
+was rubbing his forehead and eyes with his hand. A short man was saying\r
+something, but when Pierre entered he stopped speaking and went out.\r
+\r
+"Ah, how do you do, great warrior?" said Rostopchin as soon as the short\r
+man had left the room. "We have heard of your prowess. But that's not\r
+the point. Between ourselves, mon cher, do you belong to the Masons?" he\r
+went on severely, as though there were something wrong about it which he\r
+nevertheless intended to pardon. Pierre remained silent. "I am well\r
+informed, my friend, but I am aware that there are Masons and I hope\r
+that you are not one of those who on pretense of saving mankind wish to\r
+ruin Russia."\r
+\r
+"Yes, I am a Mason," Pierre replied.\r
+\r
+"There, you see, mon cher! I expect you know that Messrs. Speranski and\r
+Magnitski have been deported to their proper place. Mr. Klyucharev has\r
+been treated in the same way, and so have others who on the plea of\r
+building up the temple of Solomon have tried to destroy the temple of\r
+their fatherland. You can understand that there are reasons for this and\r
+that I could not have exiled the Postmaster had he not been a harmful\r
+person. It has now come to my knowledge that you lent him your carriage\r
+for his removal from town, and that you have even accepted papers from\r
+him for safe custody. I like you and don't wish you any harm and--as you\r
+are only half my age--I advise you, as a father would, to cease all\r
+communication with men of that stamp and to leave here as soon as\r
+possible."\r
+\r
+"But what did Klyucharev do wrong, Count?" asked Pierre.\r
+\r
+"That is for me to know, but not for you to ask," shouted Rostopchin.\r
+\r
+"If he is accused of circulating Napoleon's proclamation it is not\r
+proved that he did so," said Pierre without looking at Rostopchin, "and\r
+Vereshchagin..."\r
+\r
+"There we are!" Rostopchin shouted at Pierre louder than before,\r
+frowning suddenly. "Vereshchagin is a renegade and a traitor who will be\r
+punished as he deserves," said he with the vindictive heat with which\r
+people speak when recalling an insult. "But I did not summon you to\r
+discuss my actions, but to give you advice--or an order if you prefer\r
+it. I beg you to leave the town and break off all communication with\r
+such men as Klyucharev. And I will knock the nonsense out of anybody"--\r
+but probably realizing that he was shouting at Bezukhov who so far was\r
+not guilty of anything, he added, taking Pierre's hand in a friendly\r
+manner, "We are on the eve of a public disaster and I haven't time to be\r
+polite to everybody who has business with me. My head is sometimes in a\r
+whirl. Well, mon cher, what are you doing personally?"\r
+\r
+"Why, nothing," answered Pierre without raising his eyes or changing the\r
+thoughtful expression of his face.\r
+\r
+The count frowned.\r
+\r
+"A word of friendly advice, mon cher. Be off as soon as you can, that's\r
+all I have to tell you. Happy he who has ears to hear. Good-bye, my dear\r
+fellow. Oh, by the by!" he shouted through the doorway after Pierre, "is\r
+it true that the countess has fallen into the clutches of the holy\r
+fathers of the Society of Jesus?"\r
+\r
+Pierre did not answer and left Rostopchin's room more sullen and angry\r
+than he had ever before shown himself.\r
+\r
+When he reached home it was already getting dark. Some eight people had\r
+come to see him that evening: the secretary of a committee, the colonel\r
+of his battalion, his steward, his major-domo, and various petitioners.\r
+They all had business with Pierre and wanted decisions from him. Pierre\r
+did not understand and was not interested in any of these questions and\r
+only answered them in order to get rid of these people. When left alone\r
+at last he opened and read his wife's letter.\r
+\r
+"They, the soldiers at the battery, Prince Andrew killed... that old\r
+man... Simplicity is submission to God. Suffering is necessary... the\r
+meaning of all... one must harness... my wife is getting married... One\r
+must forget and understand..." And going to his bed he threw himself on\r
+it without undressing and immediately fell asleep.\r
+\r
+When he awoke next morning the major-domo came to inform him that a\r
+special messenger, a police officer, had come from Count Rostopchin to\r
+know whether Count Bezukhov had left or was leaving the town.\r
+\r
+A dozen persons who had business with Pierre were awaiting him in the\r
+drawing room. Pierre dressed hurriedly and, instead of going to see\r
+them, went to the back porch and out through the gate.\r
+\r
+From that time till the end of the destruction of Moscow no one of\r
+Bezukhov's household, despite all the search they made, saw Pierre again\r
+or knew where he was.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+The Rostovs remained in Moscow till the first of September, that is,\r
+till the eve of the enemy's entry into the city.\r
+\r
+After Petya had joined Obolenski's regiment of Cossacks and left for\r
+Belaya Tserkov where that regiment was forming, the countess was seized\r
+with terror. The thought that both her sons were at the war, had both\r
+gone from under her wing, that today or tomorrow either or both of them\r
+might be killed like the three sons of one of her acquaintances, struck\r
+her that summer for the first time with cruel clearness. She tried to\r
+get Nicholas back and wished to go herself to join Petya, or to get him\r
+an appointment somewhere in Petersburg, but neither of these proved\r
+possible. Petya could not return unless his regiment did so or unless he\r
+was transferred to another regiment on active service. Nicholas was\r
+somewhere with the army and had not sent a word since his last letter,\r
+in which he had given a detailed account of his meeting with Princess\r
+Mary. The countess did not sleep at night, or when she did fall asleep\r
+dreamed that she saw her sons lying dead. After many consultations and\r
+conversations, the count at last devised means to tranquillize her. He\r
+got Petya transferred from Obolenski's regiment to Bezukhov's, which was\r
+in training near Moscow. Though Petya would remain in the service, this\r
+transfer would give the countess the consolation of seeing at least one\r
+of her sons under her wing, and she hoped to arrange matters for her\r
+Petya so as not to let him go again, but always get him appointed to\r
+places where he could not possibly take part in a battle. As long as\r
+Nicholas alone was in danger the countess imagined that she loved her\r
+first-born more than all her other children and even reproached herself\r
+for it; but when her youngest: the scapegrace who had been bad at\r
+lessons, was always breaking things in the house and making himself a\r
+nuisance to everybody, that snub-nosed Petya with his merry black eyes\r
+and fresh rosy cheeks where soft down was just beginning to show--when\r
+he was thrown amid those big, dreadful, cruel men who were fighting\r
+somewhere about something and apparently finding pleasure in it--then\r
+his mother thought she loved him more, much more, than all her other\r
+children. The nearer the time came for Petya to return, the more uneasy\r
+grew the countess. She began to think she would never live to see such\r
+happiness. The presence of Sonya, of her beloved Natasha, or even of her\r
+husband irritated her. "What do I want with them? I want no one but\r
+Petya," she thought.\r
+\r
+At the end of August the Rostovs received another letter from Nicholas.\r
+He wrote from the province of Voronezh where he had been sent to procure\r
+remounts, but that letter did not set the countess at ease. Knowing that\r
+one son was out of danger she became the more anxious about Petya.\r
+\r
+Though by the twentieth of August nearly all the Rostovs' acquaintances\r
+had left Moscow, and though everybody tried to persuade the countess to\r
+get away as quickly as possible, she would not hear of leaving before\r
+her treasure, her adored Petya, returned. On the twenty-eighth of August\r
+he arrived. The passionate tenderness with which his mother received him\r
+did not please the sixteen-year-old officer. Though she concealed from\r
+him her intention of keeping him under her wing, Petya guessed her\r
+designs, and instinctively fearing that he might give way to emotion\r
+when with her--might "become womanish" as he termed it to himself--he\r
+treated her coldly, avoided her, and during his stay in Moscow attached\r
+himself exclusively to Natasha for whom he had always had a particularly\r
+brotherly tenderness, almost lover-like.\r
+\r
+Owing to the count's customary carelessness nothing was ready for their\r
+departure by the twenty-eighth of August and the carts that were to come\r
+from their Ryazan and Moscow estates to remove their household\r
+belongings did not arrive till the thirtieth.\r
+\r
+From the twenty-eighth till the thirty-first all Moscow was in a bustle\r
+and commotion. Every day thousands of men wounded at Borodino were\r
+brought in by the Dorogomilov gate and taken to various parts of Moscow,\r
+and thousands of carts conveyed the inhabitants and their possessions\r
+out by the other gates. In spite of Rostopchin's broadsheets, or because\r
+of them or independently of them, the strangest and most contradictory\r
+rumors were current in the town. Some said that no one was to be allowed\r
+to leave the city, others on the contrary said that all the icons had\r
+been taken out of the churches and everybody was to be ordered to leave.\r
+Some said there had been another battle after Borodino at which the\r
+French had been routed, while others on the contrary reported that the\r
+Russian army had been destroyed. Some talked about the Moscow militia\r
+which, preceded by the clergy, would go to the Three Hills; others\r
+whispered that Augustin had been forbidden to leave, that traitors had\r
+been seized, that the peasants were rioting and robbing people on their\r
+way from Moscow, and so on. But all this was only talk; in reality\r
+(though the Council of Fili, at which it was decided to abandon Moscow,\r
+had not yet been held) both those who went away and those who remained\r
+behind felt, though they did not show it, that Moscow would certainly be\r
+abandoned, and that they ought to get away as quickly as possible and\r
+save their belongings. It was felt that everything would suddenly break\r
+up and change, but up to the first of September nothing had done so. As\r
+a criminal who is being led to execution knows that he must die\r
+immediately, but yet looks about him and straightens the cap that is\r
+awry on his head, so Moscow involuntarily continued its wonted life,\r
+though it knew that the time of its destruction was near when the\r
+conditions of life to which its people were accustomed to submit would\r
+be completely upset.\r
+\r
+During the three days preceding the occupation of Moscow the whole\r
+Rostov family was absorbed in various activities. The head of the\r
+family, Count Ilya Rostov, continually drove about the city collecting\r
+the current rumors from all sides and gave superficial and hasty orders\r
+at home about the preparations for their departure.\r
+\r
+The countess watched the things being packed, was dissatisfied with\r
+everything, was constantly in pursuit of Petya who was always running\r
+away from her, and was jealous of Natasha with whom he spent all his\r
+time. Sonya alone directed the practical side of matters by getting\r
+things packed. But of late Sonya had been particularly sad and silent.\r
+Nicholas' letter in which he mentioned Princess Mary had elicited, in\r
+her presence, joyous comments from the countess, who saw an intervention\r
+of Providence in this meeting of the princess and Nicholas.\r
+\r
+"I was never pleased at Bolkonski's engagement to Natasha," said the\r
+countess, "but I always wanted Nicholas to marry the princess, and had a\r
+presentiment that it would happen. What a good thing it would be!"\r
+\r
+Sonya felt that this was true: that the only possibility of retrieving\r
+the Rostovs' affairs was by Nicholas marrying a rich woman, and that the\r
+princess was a good match. It was very bitter for her. But despite her\r
+grief, or perhaps just because of it, she took on herself all the\r
+difficult work of directing the storing and packing of their things and\r
+was busy for whole days. The count and countess turned to her when they\r
+had any orders to give. Petya and Natasha on the contrary, far from\r
+helping their parents, were generally a nuisance and a hindrance to\r
+everyone. Almost all day long the house resounded with their running\r
+feet, their cries, and their spontaneous laughter. They laughed and were\r
+gay not because there was any reason to laugh, but because gaiety and\r
+mirth were in their hearts and so everything that happened was a cause\r
+for gaiety and laughter to them. Petya was in high spirits because\r
+having left home a boy he had returned (as everybody told him) a fine\r
+young man, because he was at home, because he had left Belaya Tserkov\r
+where there was no hope of soon taking part in a battle and had come to\r
+Moscow where there was to be fighting in a few days, and chiefly because\r
+Natasha, whose lead he always followed, was in high spirits. Natasha was\r
+gay because she had been sad too long and now nothing reminded her of\r
+the cause of her sadness, and because she was feeling well. She was also\r
+happy because she had someone to adore her: the adoration of others was\r
+a lubricant the wheels of her machine needed to make them run freely--\r
+and Petya adored her. Above all, they were gay because there was a war\r
+near Moscow, there would be fighting at the town gates, arms were being\r
+given out, everybody was escaping--going away somewhere, and in general\r
+something extraordinary was happening, and that is always exciting,\r
+especially to the young.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIII\r
+\r
+On Saturday, the thirty-first of August, everything in the Rostovs'\r
+house seemed topsy-turvy. All the doors were open, all the furniture was\r
+being carried out or moved about, and the mirrors and pictures had been\r
+taken down. There were trunks in the rooms, and hay, wrapping paper, and\r
+ropes were scattered about. The peasants and house serfs carrying out\r
+the things were treading heavily on the parquet floors. The yard was\r
+crowded with peasant carts, some loaded high and already corded up,\r
+others still empty.\r
+\r
+The voices and footsteps of the many servants and of the peasants who\r
+had come with the carts resounded as they shouted to one another in the\r
+yard and in the house. The count had been out since morning. The\r
+countess had a headache brought on by all the noise and turmoil and was\r
+lying down in the new sitting room with a vinegar compress on her head.\r
+Petya was not at home, he had gone to visit a friend with whom he meant\r
+to obtain a transfer from the militia to the active army. Sonya was in\r
+the ballroom looking after the packing of the glass and china. Natasha\r
+was sitting on the floor of her dismantled room with dresses, ribbons,\r
+and scarves strewn all about her, gazing fixedly at the floor and\r
+holding in her hands the old ball dress (already out of fashion) which\r
+she had worn at her first Petersburg ball.\r
+\r
+Natasha was ashamed of doing nothing when everyone else was so busy, and\r
+several times that morning had tried to set to work, but her heart was\r
+not in it, and she could not and did not know how to do anything except\r
+with all her heart and all her might. For a while she had stood beside\r
+Sonya while the china was being packed and tried to help, but soon gave\r
+it up and went to her room to pack her own things. At first she found it\r
+amusing to give away dresses and ribbons to the maids, but when that was\r
+done and what was left had still to be packed, she found it dull.\r
+\r
+"Dunyasha, you pack! You will, won't you, dear?" And when Dunyasha\r
+willingly promised to do it all for her, Natasha sat down on the floor,\r
+took her old ball dress, and fell into a reverie quite unrelated to what\r
+ought to have occupied her thoughts now. She was roused from her reverie\r
+by the talk of the maids in the next room (which was theirs) and by the\r
+sound of their hurried footsteps going to the back porch. Natasha got up\r
+and looked out of the window. An enormously long row of carts full of\r
+wounded men had stopped in the street.\r
+\r
+The housekeeper, the old nurse, the cooks, coachmen, maids, footmen,\r
+postilions, and scullions stood at the gate, staring at the wounded.\r
+\r
+Natasha, throwing a clean pocket handkerchief over her hair and holding\r
+an end of it in each hand, went out into the street.\r
+\r
+The former housekeeper, old Mavra Kuzminichna, had stepped out of the\r
+crowd by the gate, gone up to a cart with a hood constructed of bast\r
+mats, and was speaking to a pale young officer who lay inside. Natasha\r
+moved a few steps forward and stopped shyly, still holding her\r
+handkerchief, and listened to what the housekeeper was saying.\r
+\r
+"Then you have nobody in Moscow?" she was saying. "You would be more\r
+comfortable somewhere in a house... in ours, for instance... the family\r
+are leaving."\r
+\r
+"I don't know if it would be allowed," replied the officer in a weak\r
+voice. "Here is our commanding officer... ask him," and he pointed to a\r
+stout major who was walking back along the street past the row of carts.\r
+\r
+Natasha glanced with frightened eyes at the face of the wounded officer\r
+and at once went to meet the major.\r
+\r
+"May the wounded men stay in our house?" she asked.\r
+\r
+The major raised his hand to his cap with a smile.\r
+\r
+"Which one do you want, Ma'am'selle?" said he, screwing up his eyes and\r
+smiling.\r
+\r
+Natasha quietly repeated her question, and her face and whole manner\r
+were so serious, though she was still holding the ends of her\r
+handkerchief, that the major ceased smiling and after some reflection--\r
+as if considering in how far the thing was possible--replied in the\r
+affirmative.\r
+\r
+"Oh yes, why not? They may," he said.\r
+\r
+With a slight inclination of her head, Natasha stepped back quickly to\r
+Mavra Kuzminichna, who stood talking compassionately to the officer.\r
+\r
+"They may. He says they may!" whispered Natasha.\r
+\r
+The cart in which the officer lay was turned into the Rostovs' yard, and\r
+dozens of carts with wounded men began at the invitation of the\r
+townsfolk to turn into the yards and to draw up at the entrances of the\r
+houses in Povarskaya Street. Natasha was evidently pleased to be dealing\r
+with new people outside the ordinary routine of her life. She and Mavra\r
+Kuzminichna tried to get as many of the wounded as possible into their\r
+yard.\r
+\r
+"Your Papa must be told, though," said Mavra Kuzminichna.\r
+\r
+"Never mind, never mind, what does it matter? For one day we can move\r
+into the drawing room. They can have all our half of the house."\r
+\r
+"There now, young lady, you do take things into your head! Even if we\r
+put them into the wing, the men's room, or the nurse's room, we must ask\r
+permission."\r
+\r
+"Well, I'll ask."\r
+\r
+Natasha ran into the house and went on tiptoe through the half-open door\r
+into the sitting room, where there was a smell of vinegar and Hoffman's\r
+drops.\r
+\r
+"Are you asleep, Mamma?"\r
+\r
+"Oh, what sleep-?" said the countess, waking up just as she was dropping\r
+into a doze.\r
+\r
+"Mamma darling!" said Natasha, kneeling by her mother and bringing her\r
+face close to her mother's, "I am sorry, forgive me, I'll never do it\r
+again; I woke you up! Mavra Kuzminichna has sent me: they have brought\r
+some wounded here--officers. Will you let them come? They have nowhere\r
+to go. I knew you'd let them come!" she said quickly all in one breath.\r
+\r
+"What officers? Whom have they brought? I don't understand anything\r
+about it," said the countess.\r
+\r
+Natasha laughed, and the countess too smiled slightly.\r
+\r
+"I knew you'd give permission... so I'll tell them," and, having kissed\r
+her mother, Natasha got up and went to the door.\r
+\r
+In the hall she met her father, who had returned with bad news.\r
+\r
+"We've stayed too long!" said the count with involuntary vexation. "The\r
+club is closed and the police are leaving."\r
+\r
+"Papa, is it all right--I've invited some of the wounded into the\r
+house?" said Natasha.\r
+\r
+"Of course it is," he answered absently. "That's not the point. I beg\r
+you not to indulge in trifles now, but to help to pack, and tomorrow we\r
+must go, go, go!...."\r
+\r
+And the count gave a similar order to the major-domo and the servants.\r
+\r
+At dinner Petya having returned home told them the news he had heard. He\r
+said the people had been getting arms in the Kremlin, and that though\r
+Rostopchin's broadsheet had said that he would sound a call two or three\r
+days in advance, the order had certainly already been given for everyone\r
+to go armed to the Three Hills tomorrow, and that there would be a big\r
+battle there.\r
+\r
+The countess looked with timid horror at her son's eager, excited face\r
+as he said this. She realized that if she said a word about his not\r
+going to the battle (she knew he enjoyed the thought of the impending\r
+engagement) he would say something about men, honor, and the fatherland-\r
+-something senseless, masculine, and obstinate which there would be no\r
+contradicting, and her plans would be spoiled; and so, hoping to arrange\r
+to leave before then and take Petya with her as their protector and\r
+defender, she did not answer him, but after dinner called the count\r
+aside and implored him with tears to take her away quickly, that very\r
+night if possible. With a woman's involuntary loving cunning she, who\r
+till then had not shown any alarm, said that she would die of fright if\r
+they did not leave that very night. Without any pretense she was now\r
+afraid of everything.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIV\r
+\r
+Madame Schoss, who had been out to visit her daughter, increased the\r
+countess' fears still more by telling what she had seen at a spirit\r
+dealer's in Myasnitski Street. When returning by that street she had\r
+been unable to pass because of a drunken crowd rioting in front of the\r
+shop. She had taken a cab and driven home by a side street and the\r
+cabman had told her that the people were breaking open the barrels at\r
+the drink store, having received orders to do so.\r
+\r
+After dinner the whole Rostov household set to work with enthusiastic\r
+haste packing their belongings and preparing for their departure. The\r
+old count, suddenly setting to work, kept passing from the yard to the\r
+house and back again, shouting confused instructions to the hurrying\r
+people, and flurrying them still more. Petya directed things in the\r
+yard. Sonya, owing to the count's contradictory orders, lost her head\r
+and did not know what to do. The servants ran noisily about the house\r
+and yard, shouting and disputing. Natasha, with the ardor characteristic\r
+of all she did suddenly set to work too. At first her intervention in\r
+the business of packing was received skeptically. Everybody expected\r
+some prank from her and did not wish to obey her; but she resolutely and\r
+passionately demanded obedience, grew angry and nearly cried because\r
+they did not heed her, and at last succeeded in making them believe her.\r
+Her first exploit, which cost her immense effort and established her\r
+authority, was the packing of the carpets. The count had valuable\r
+Gobelin tapestries and Persian carpets in the house. When Natasha set to\r
+work two cases were standing open in the ballroom, one almost full up\r
+with crockery, the other with carpets. There was also much china\r
+standing on the tables, and still more was being brought in from the\r
+storeroom. A third case was needed and servants had gone to fetch it.\r
+\r
+"Sonya, wait a bit--we'll pack everything into these," said Natasha.\r
+\r
+"You can't, Miss, we have tried to," said the butler's assistant.\r
+\r
+"No, wait a minute, please."\r
+\r
+And Natasha began rapidly taking out of the case dishes and plates\r
+wrapped in paper.\r
+\r
+"The dishes must go in here among the carpets," said she.\r
+\r
+"Why, it's a mercy if we can get the carpets alone into three cases,"\r
+said the butler's assistant.\r
+\r
+"Oh, wait, please!" And Natasha began rapidly and deftly sorting out the\r
+things. "These aren't needed," said she, putting aside some plates of\r
+Kiev ware. "These--yes, these must go among the carpets," she said,\r
+referring to the Saxony china dishes.\r
+\r
+"Don't, Natasha! Leave it alone! We'll get it all packed," urged Sonya\r
+reproachfully.\r
+\r
+"What a young lady she is!" remarked the major-domo.\r
+\r
+But Natasha would not give in. She turned everything out and began\r
+quickly repacking, deciding that the inferior Russian carpets and\r
+unnecessary crockery should not be taken at all. When everything had\r
+been taken out of the cases, they recommenced packing, and it turned out\r
+that when the cheaper things not worth taking had nearly all been\r
+rejected, the valuable ones really did all go into the two cases. Only\r
+the lid of the case containing the carpets would not shut down. A few\r
+more things might have been taken out, but Natasha insisted on having\r
+her own way. She packed, repacked, pressed, made the butler's assistant\r
+and Petya--whom she had drawn into the business of packing--press on the\r
+lid, and made desperate efforts herself.\r
+\r
+"That's enough, Natasha," said Sonya. "I see you were right, but just\r
+take out the top one."\r
+\r
+"I won't!" cried Natasha, with one hand holding back the hair that hung\r
+over her perspiring face, while with the other she pressed down the\r
+carpets. "Now press, Petya! Press, Vasilich, press hard!" she cried.\r
+\r
+The carpets yielded and the lid closed; Natasha, clapping her hands,\r
+screamed with delight and tears fell from her eyes. But this only lasted\r
+a moment. She at once set to work afresh and they now trusted her\r
+completely. The count was not angry even when they told him that Natasha\r
+had countermanded an order of his, and the servants now came to her to\r
+ask whether a cart was sufficiently loaded, and whether it might be\r
+corded up. Thanks to Natasha's directions the work now went on\r
+expeditiously, unnecessary things were left, and the most valuable\r
+packed as compactly as possible.\r
+\r
+But hard as they all worked till quite late that night, they could not\r
+get everything packed. The countess had fallen asleep and the count,\r
+having put off their departure till next morning, went to bed.\r
+\r
+Sonya and Natasha slept in the sitting room without undressing.\r
+\r
+That night another wounded man was driven down the Povarskaya, and Mavra\r
+Kuzminichna, who was standing at the gate, had him brought into the\r
+Rostovs' yard. Mavra Kuzminichna concluded that he was a very important\r
+man. He was being conveyed in a caleche with a raised hood, and was\r
+quite covered by an apron. On the box beside the driver sat a venerable\r
+old attendant. A doctor and two soldiers followed the carriage in a\r
+cart.\r
+\r
+"Please come in here. The masters are going away and the whole house\r
+will be empty," said the old woman to the old attendant.\r
+\r
+"Well, perhaps," said he with a sigh. "We don't expect to get him home\r
+alive! We have a house of our own in Moscow, but it's a long way from\r
+here, and there's nobody living in it."\r
+\r
+"Do us the honor to come in, there's plenty of everything in the\r
+master's house. Come in," said Mavra Kuzminichna. "Is he very ill?" she\r
+asked.\r
+\r
+The attendant made a hopeless gesture.\r
+\r
+"We don't expect to get him home! We must ask the doctor."\r
+\r
+And the old servant got down from the box and went up to the cart.\r
+\r
+"All right!" said the doctor.\r
+\r
+The old servant returned to the caleche, looked into it, shook his head\r
+disconsolately, told the driver to turn into the yard, and stopped\r
+beside Mavra Kuzminichna.\r
+\r
+"O, Lord Jesus Christ!" she murmured.\r
+\r
+She invited them to take the wounded man into the house.\r
+\r
+"The masters won't object..." she said.\r
+\r
+But they had to avoid carrying the man upstairs, and so they took him\r
+into the wing and put him in the room that had been Madame Schoss'.\r
+\r
+This wounded man was Prince Andrew Bolkonski.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XV\r
+\r
+Moscow's last day had come. It was a clear bright autumn day, a Sunday.\r
+The church bells everywhere were ringing for service, just as usual on\r
+Sundays. Nobody seemed yet to realize what awaited the city.\r
+\r
+Only two things indicated the social condition of Moscow--the rabble,\r
+that is the poor people, and the price of commodities. An enormous crowd\r
+of factory hands, house serfs, and peasants, with whom some officials,\r
+seminarists, and gentry were mingled, had gone early that morning to the\r
+Three Hills. Having waited there for Rostopchin who did not turn up,\r
+they became convinced that Moscow would be surrendered, and then\r
+dispersed all about the town to the public houses and cookshops. Prices\r
+too that day indicated the state of affairs. The price of weapons, of\r
+gold, of carts and horses, kept rising, but the value of paper money and\r
+city articles kept falling, so that by midday there were instances of\r
+carters removing valuable goods, such as cloth, and receiving in payment\r
+a half of what they carted, while peasant horses were fetching five\r
+hundred rubles each, and furniture, mirrors, and bronzes were being\r
+given away for nothing.\r
+\r
+In the Rostovs' staid old-fashioned house the dissolution of former\r
+conditions of life was but little noticeable. As to the serfs the only\r
+indication was that three out of their huge retinue disappeared during\r
+the night, but nothing was stolen; and as to the value of their\r
+possessions, the thirty peasant carts that had come in from their\r
+estates and which many people envied proved to be extremely valuable and\r
+they were offered enormous sums of money for them. Not only were huge\r
+sums offered for the horses and carts, but on the previous evening and\r
+early in the morning of the first of September, orderlies and servants\r
+sent by wounded officers came to the Rostovs' and wounded men dragged\r
+themselves there from the Rostovs' and from neighboring houses where\r
+they were accommodated, entreating the servants to try to get them a\r
+lift out of Moscow. The major-domo to whom these entreaties were\r
+addressed, though he was sorry for the wounded, resolutely refused,\r
+saying that he dare not even mention the matter to the count. Pity these\r
+wounded men as one might, it was evident that if they were given one\r
+cart there would be no reason to refuse another, or all the carts and\r
+one's own carriages as well. Thirty carts could not save all the wounded\r
+and in the general catastrophe one could not disregard oneself and one's\r
+own family. So thought the major-domo on his master's behalf.\r
+\r
+On waking up that morning Count Ilya Rostov left his bedroom softly, so\r
+as not to wake the countess who had fallen asleep only toward morning,\r
+and came out to the porch in his lilac silk dressing gown. In the yard\r
+stood the carts ready corded. The carriages were at the front porch. The\r
+major-domo stood at the porch talking to an elderly orderly and to a\r
+pale young officer with a bandaged arm. On seeing the count the major-\r
+domo made a significant and stern gesture to them both to go away.\r
+\r
+"Well, Vasilich, is everything ready?" asked the count, and stroking his\r
+bald head he looked good-naturedly at the officer and the orderly and\r
+nodded to them. (He liked to see new faces.)\r
+\r
+"We can harness at once, your excellency."\r
+\r
+"Well, that's right. As soon as the countess wakes we'll be off, God\r
+willing! What is it, gentlemen?" he added, turning to the officer. "Are\r
+you staying in my house?"\r
+\r
+The officer came nearer and suddenly his face flushed crimson.\r
+\r
+"Count, be so good as to allow me... for God's sake, to get into some\r
+corner of one of your carts! I have nothing here with me.... I shall be\r
+all right on a loaded cart..."\r
+\r
+Before the officer had finished speaking the orderly made the same\r
+request on behalf of his master.\r
+\r
+"Oh, yes, yes, yes!" said the count hastily. "I shall be very pleased,\r
+very pleased. Vasilich, you'll see to it. Just unload one or two carts.\r
+Well, what of it... do what's necessary..." said the count, muttering\r
+some indefinite order.\r
+\r
+But at the same moment an expression of warm gratitude on the officer's\r
+face had already sealed the order. The count looked around him. In the\r
+yard, at the gates, at the window of the wings, wounded officers and\r
+their orderlies were to be seen. They were all looking at the count and\r
+moving toward the porch.\r
+\r
+"Please step into the gallery, your excellency," said the major-domo.\r
+"What are your orders about the pictures?"\r
+\r
+The count went into the house with him, repeating his order not to\r
+refuse the wounded who asked for a lift.\r
+\r
+"Well, never mind, some of the things can be unloaded," he added in a\r
+soft, confidential voice, as though afraid of being overheard.\r
+\r
+At nine o'clock the countess woke up, and Matrena Timofeevna, who had\r
+been her lady's maid before her marriage and now performed a sort of\r
+chief gendarme's duty for her, came to say that Madame Schoss was much\r
+offended and the young ladies' summer dresses could not be left behind.\r
+On inquiry, the countess learned that Madame Schoss was offended because\r
+her trunk had been taken down from its cart, and all the loads were\r
+being uncorded and the luggage taken out of the carts to make room for\r
+wounded men whom the count in the simplicity of his heart had ordered\r
+that they should take with them. The countess sent for her husband.\r
+\r
+"What is this, my dear? I hear that the luggage is being unloaded."\r
+\r
+"You know, love, I wanted to tell you... Countess dear... an officer\r
+came to me to ask for a few carts for the wounded. After all, ours are\r
+things that can be bought but think what being left behind means to\r
+them!... Really now, in our own yard--we asked them in ourselves and\r
+there are officers among them.... You know, I think, my dear... let them\r
+be taken... where's the hurry?"\r
+\r
+The count spoke timidly, as he always did when talking of money matters.\r
+The countess was accustomed to this tone as a precursor of news of\r
+something detrimental to the children's interests, such as the building\r
+of a new gallery or conservatory, the inauguration of a private theater\r
+or an orchestra. She was accustomed always to oppose anything announced\r
+in that timid tone and considered it her duty to do so.\r
+\r
+She assumed her dolefully submissive manner and said to her husband:\r
+"Listen to me, Count, you have managed matters so that we are getting\r
+nothing for the house, and now you wish to throw away all our--all the\r
+children's property! You said yourself that we have a hundred thousand\r
+rubles' worth of things in the house. I don't consent, my dear, I don't!\r
+Do as you please! It's the government's business to look after the\r
+wounded; they know that. Look at the Lopukhins opposite, they cleared\r
+out everything two days ago. That's what other people do. It's only we\r
+who are such fools. If you have no pity on me, have some for the\r
+children."\r
+\r
+Flourishing his arms in despair the count left the room without\r
+replying.\r
+\r
+"Papa, what are you doing that for?" asked Natasha, who had followed him\r
+into her mother's room.\r
+\r
+"Nothing! What business is it of yours?" muttered the count angrily.\r
+\r
+"But I heard," said Natasha. "Why does Mamma object?"\r
+\r
+"What business is it of yours?" cried the count.\r
+\r
+Natasha stepped up to the window and pondered.\r
+\r
+"Papa! Here's Berg coming to see us," said she, looking out of the\r
+window.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVI\r
+\r
+Berg, the Rostovs' son-in-law, was already a colonel wearing the orders\r
+of Vladimir and Anna, and he still filled the quiet and agreeable post\r
+of assistant to the head of the staff of the assistant commander of the\r
+first division of the Second Army.\r
+\r
+On the first of September he had come to Moscow from the army.\r
+\r
+He had nothing to do in Moscow, but he had noticed that everyone in the\r
+army was asking for leave to visit Moscow and had something to do there.\r
+So he considered it necessary to ask for leave of absence for family and\r
+domestic reasons.\r
+\r
+Berg drove up to his father-in-law's house in his spruce little trap\r
+with a pair of sleek roans, exactly like those of a certain prince. He\r
+looked attentively at the carts in the yard and while going up to the\r
+porch took out a clean pocket handkerchief and tied a knot in it.\r
+\r
+From the anteroom Berg ran with smooth though impatient steps into the\r
+drawing room, where he embraced the count, kissed the hands of Natasha\r
+and Sonya, and hastened to inquire after "Mamma's" health.\r
+\r
+"Health, at a time like this?" said the count. "Come, tell us the news!\r
+Is the army retreating or will there be another battle?"\r
+\r
+"God Almighty alone can decide the fate of our fatherland, Papa," said\r
+Berg. "The army is burning with a spirit of heroism and the leaders, so\r
+to say, have now assembled in council. No one knows what is coming. But\r
+in general I can tell you, Papa, that such a heroic spirit, the truly\r
+antique valor of the Russian army, which they--which it" (he corrected\r
+himself) "has shown or displayed in the battle of the twenty-sixth--\r
+there are no words worthy to do it justice! I tell you, Papa" (he smote\r
+himself on the breast as a general he had heard speaking had done, but\r
+Berg did it a trifle late for he should have struck his breast at the\r
+words "Russian army"), "I tell you frankly that we, the commanders, far\r
+from having to urge the men on or anything of that kind, could hardly\r
+restrain those... those... yes, those exploits of antique valor," he\r
+went on rapidly. "General Barclay de Tolly risked his life everywhere at\r
+the head of the troops, I can assure you. Our corps was stationed on a\r
+hillside. You can imagine!"\r
+\r
+And Berg related all that he remembered of the various tales he had\r
+heard those days. Natasha watched him with an intent gaze that confused\r
+him, as if she were trying to find in his face the answer to some\r
+question.\r
+\r
+"Altogether such heroism as was displayed by the Russian warriors cannot\r
+be imagined or adequately praised!" said Berg, glancing round at\r
+Natasha, and as if anxious to conciliate her, replying to her intent\r
+look with a smile. "'Russia is not in Moscow, she lives in the hearts of\r
+her sons!' Isn't it so, Papa?" said he.\r
+\r
+Just then the countess came in from the sitting room with a weary and\r
+dissatisfied expression. Berg hurriedly jumped up, kissed her hand,\r
+asked about her health, and, swaying his head from side to side to\r
+express sympathy, remained standing beside her.\r
+\r
+"Yes, Mamma, I tell you sincerely that these are hard and sad times for\r
+every Russian. But why are you so anxious? You have still time to get\r
+away...."\r
+\r
+"I can't think what the servants are about," said the countess, turning\r
+to her husband. "I have just been told that nothing is ready yet.\r
+Somebody after all must see to things. One misses Mitenka at such times.\r
+There won't be any end to it."\r
+\r
+The count was about to say something, but evidently restrained himself.\r
+He got up from his chair and went to the door.\r
+\r
+At that moment Berg drew out his handkerchief as if to blow his nose\r
+and, seeing the knot in it, pondered, shaking his head sadly and\r
+significantly.\r
+\r
+"And I have a great favor to ask of you, Papa," said he.\r
+\r
+"Hm..." said the count, and stopped.\r
+\r
+"I was driving past Yusupov's house just now," said Berg with a laugh,\r
+"when the steward, a man I know, ran out and asked me whether I wouldn't\r
+buy something. I went in out of curiosity, you know, and there is a\r
+small chiffonier and a dressing table. You know how dear Vera wanted a\r
+chiffonier like that and how we had a dispute about it." (At the mention\r
+of the chiffonier and dressing table Berg involuntarily changed his tone\r
+to one of pleasure at his admirable domestic arrangements.) "And it's\r
+such a beauty! It pulls out and has a secret English drawer, you know!\r
+And dear Vera has long wanted one. I wish to give her a surprise, you\r
+see. I saw so many of those peasant carts in your yard. Please let me\r
+have one, I will pay the man well, and..."\r
+\r
+The count frowned and coughed.\r
+\r
+"Ask the countess, I don't give orders."\r
+\r
+"If it's inconvenient, please don't," said Berg. "Only I so wanted it,\r
+for dear Vera's sake."\r
+\r
+"Oh, go to the devil, all of you! To the devil, the devil, the devil..."\r
+cried the old count. "My head's in a whirl!"\r
+\r
+And he left the room. The countess began to cry.\r
+\r
+"Yes, Mamma! Yes, these are very hard times!" said Berg.\r
+\r
+Natasha left the room with her father and, as if finding it difficult to\r
+reach some decision, first followed him and then ran downstairs.\r
+\r
+Petya was in the porch, engaged in giving out weapons to the servants\r
+who were to leave Moscow. The loaded carts were still standing in the\r
+yard. Two of them had been uncorded and a wounded officer was climbing\r
+into one of them helped by an orderly.\r
+\r
+"Do you know what it's about?" Petya asked Natasha.\r
+\r
+She understood that he meant what were their parents quarreling about.\r
+She did not answer.\r
+\r
+"It's because Papa wanted to give up all the carts to the wounded," said\r
+Petya. "Vasilich told me. I consider..."\r
+\r
+"I consider," Natasha suddenly almost shouted, turning her angry face to\r
+Petya, "I consider it so horrid, so abominable, so... I don't know what.\r
+Are we despicable Germans?"\r
+\r
+Her throat quivered with convulsive sobs and, afraid of weakening and\r
+letting the force of her anger run to waste, she turned and rushed\r
+headlong up the stairs.\r
+\r
+Berg was sitting beside the countess consoling her with the respectful\r
+attention of a relative. The count, pipe in hand, was pacing up and down\r
+the room, when Natasha, her face distorted by anger, burst in like a\r
+tempest and approached her mother with rapid steps.\r
+\r
+"It's horrid! It's abominable!" she screamed. "You can't possibly have\r
+ordered it!"\r
+\r
+Berg and the countess looked at her, perplexed and frightened. The count\r
+stood still at the window and listened.\r
+\r
+"Mamma, it's impossible: see what is going on in the yard!" she cried.\r
+"They will be left!..."\r
+\r
+"What's the matter with you? Who are 'they'? What do you want?"\r
+\r
+"Why, the wounded! It's impossible, Mamma. It's monstrous!... No, Mamma\r
+darling, it's not the thing. Please forgive me, darling.... Mamma, what\r
+does it matter what we take away? Only look what is going on in the\r
+yard... Mamma!... It's impossible!"\r
+\r
+The count stood by the window and listened without turning round.\r
+Suddenly he sniffed and put his face closer to the window.\r
+\r
+The countess glanced at her daughter, saw her face full of shame for her\r
+mother, saw her agitation, and understood why her husband did not turn\r
+to look at her now, and she glanced round quite disconcerted.\r
+\r
+"Oh, do as you like! Am I hindering anyone?" she said, not surrendering\r
+at once.\r
+\r
+"Mamma, darling, forgive me!"\r
+\r
+But the countess pushed her daughter away and went up to her husband.\r
+\r
+"My dear, you order what is right.... You know I don't understand about\r
+it," said she, dropping her eyes shamefacedly.\r
+\r
+"The eggs... the eggs are teaching the hen," muttered the count through\r
+tears of joy, and he embraced his wife who was glad to hide her look of\r
+shame on his breast.\r
+\r
+"Papa! Mamma! May I see to it? May I?..." asked Natasha. "We will still\r
+take all the most necessary things."\r
+\r
+The count nodded affirmatively, and Natasha, at the rapid pace at which\r
+she used to run when playing at tag, ran through the ballroom to the\r
+anteroom and downstairs into the yard.\r
+\r
+The servants gathered round Natasha, but could not believe the strange\r
+order she brought them until the count himself, in his wife's name,\r
+confirmed the order to give up all the carts to the wounded and take the\r
+trunks to the storerooms. When they understood that order the servants\r
+set to work at this new task with pleasure and zeal. It no longer seemed\r
+strange to them but on the contrary it seemed the only thing that could\r
+be done, just as a quarter of an hour before it had not seemed strange\r
+to anyone that the wounded should be left behind and the goods carted\r
+away but that had seemed the only thing to do.\r
+\r
+The whole household, as if to atone for not having done it sooner, set\r
+eagerly to work at the new task of placing the wounded in the carts. The\r
+wounded dragged themselves out of their rooms and stood with pale but\r
+happy faces round the carts. The news that carts were to be had spread\r
+to the neighboring houses, from which wounded men began to come into the\r
+Rostovs' yard. Many of the wounded asked them not to unload the carts\r
+but only to let them sit on the top of the things. But the work of\r
+unloading, once started, could not be arrested. It seemed not to matter\r
+whether all or only half the things were left behind. Cases full of\r
+china, bronzes, pictures, and mirrors that had been so carefully packed\r
+the night before now lay about the yard, and still they went on\r
+searching for and finding possibilities of unloading this or that and\r
+letting the wounded have another and yet another cart.\r
+\r
+"We can take four more men," said the steward. "They can have my trap,\r
+or else what is to become of them?"\r
+\r
+"Let them have my wardrobe cart," said the countess. "Dunyasha can go\r
+with me in the carriage."\r
+\r
+They unloaded the wardrobe cart and sent it to take wounded men from a\r
+house two doors off. The whole household, servants included, was bright\r
+and animated. Natasha was in a state of rapturous excitement such as she\r
+had not known for a long time.\r
+\r
+"What could we fasten this onto?" asked the servants, trying to fix a\r
+trunk on the narrow footboard behind a carriage. "We must keep at least\r
+one cart."\r
+\r
+"What's in it?" asked Natasha.\r
+\r
+"The count's books."\r
+\r
+"Leave it, Vasilich will put it away. It's not wanted."\r
+\r
+The phaeton was full of people and there was a doubt as to where Count\r
+Peter could sit.\r
+\r
+"On the box. You'll sit on the box, won't you, Petya?" cried Natasha.\r
+\r
+Sonya too was busy all this time, but the aim of her efforts was quite\r
+different from Natasha's. She was putting away the things that had to be\r
+left behind and making a list of them as the countess wished, and she\r
+tried to get as much taken away with them as possible.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVII\r
+\r
+Before two o'clock in the afternoon the Rostovs' four carriages, packed\r
+full and with the horses harnessed, stood at the front door. One by one\r
+the carts with the wounded had moved out of the yard.\r
+\r
+The caleche in which Prince Andrew was being taken attracted Sonya's\r
+attention as it passed the front porch. With the help of a maid she was\r
+arranging a seat for the countess in the huge high coach that stood at\r
+the entrance.\r
+\r
+"Whose caleche is that?" she inquired, leaning out of the carriage\r
+window.\r
+\r
+"Why, didn't you know, Miss?" replied the maid. "The wounded prince: he\r
+spent the night in our house and is going with us."\r
+\r
+"But who is it? What's his name?"\r
+\r
+"It's our intended that was--Prince Bolkonski himself! They say he is\r
+dying," replied the maid with a sigh.\r
+\r
+Sonya jumped out of the coach and ran to the countess. The countess,\r
+tired out and already dressed in shawl and bonnet for her journey, was\r
+pacing up and down the drawing room, waiting for the household to\r
+assemble for the usual silent prayer with closed doors before starting.\r
+Natasha was not in the room.\r
+\r
+"Mamma," said Sonya, "Prince Andrew is here, mortally wounded. He is\r
+going with us."\r
+\r
+The countess opened her eyes in dismay and, seizing Sonya's arm, glanced\r
+around.\r
+\r
+"Natasha?" she murmured.\r
+\r
+At that moment this news had only one significance for both of them.\r
+They knew their Natasha, and alarm as to what would happen if she heard\r
+this news stifled all sympathy for the man they both liked.\r
+\r
+"Natasha does not know yet, but he is going with us," said Sonya.\r
+\r
+"You say he is dying?"\r
+\r
+Sonya nodded.\r
+\r
+The countess put her arms around Sonya and began to cry.\r
+\r
+"The ways of God are past finding out!" she thought, feeling that the\r
+Almighty Hand, hitherto unseen, was becoming manifest in all that was\r
+now taking place.\r
+\r
+"Well, Mamma? Everything is ready. What's the matter?" asked Natasha, as\r
+with animated face she ran into the room.\r
+\r
+"Nothing," answered the countess. "If everything is ready let us start."\r
+\r
+And the countess bent over her reticule to hide her agitated face. Sonya\r
+embraced Natasha and kissed her.\r
+\r
+Natasha looked at her inquiringly.\r
+\r
+"What is it? What has happened?"\r
+\r
+"Nothing... No..."\r
+\r
+"Is it something very bad for me? What is it?" persisted Natasha with\r
+her quick intuition.\r
+\r
+Sonya sighed and made no reply. The count, Petya, Madame Schoss, Mavra\r
+Kuzminichna, and Vasilich came into the drawing room and, having closed\r
+the doors, they all sat down and remained for some moments silently\r
+seated without looking at one another.\r
+\r
+The count was the first to rise, and with a loud sigh crossed himself\r
+before the icon. All the others did the same. Then the count embraced\r
+Mavra Kuzminichna and Vasilich, who were to remain in Moscow, and while\r
+they caught at his hand and kissed his shoulder he patted their backs\r
+lightly with some vaguely affectionate and comforting words. The\r
+countess went into the oratory and there Sonya found her on her knees\r
+before the icons that had been left here and there hanging on the wall.\r
+(The most precious ones, with which some family tradition was connected,\r
+were being taken with them.)\r
+\r
+In the porch and in the yard the men whom Petya had armed with swords\r
+and daggers, with trousers tucked inside their high boots and with belts\r
+and girdles tightened, were taking leave of those remaining behind.\r
+\r
+As is always the case at a departure, much had been forgotten or put in\r
+the wrong place, and for a long time two menservants stood one on each\r
+side of the open door and the carriage steps waiting to help the\r
+countess in, while maids rushed with cushions and bundles from the house\r
+to the carriages, the caleche, the phaeton, and back again.\r
+\r
+"They always will forget everything!" said the countess. "Don't you know\r
+I can't sit like that?"\r
+\r
+And Dunyasha, with clenched teeth, without replying but with an\r
+aggrieved look on her face, hastily got into the coach to rearrange the\r
+seat.\r
+\r
+"Oh, those servants!" said the count, swaying his head.\r
+\r
+Efim, the old coachman, who was the only one the countess trusted to\r
+drive her, sat perched up high on the box and did not so much as glance\r
+round at what was going on behind him. From thirty years' experience he\r
+knew it would be some time yet before the order, "Be off, in God's\r
+name!" would be given him: and he knew that even when it was said he\r
+would be stopped once or twice more while they sent back to fetch\r
+something that had been forgotten, and even after that he would again be\r
+stopped and the countess herself would lean out of the window and beg\r
+him for the love of heaven to drive carefully down the hill. He knew all\r
+this and therefore waited calmly for what would happen, with more\r
+patience than the horses, especially the near one, the chestnut Falcon,\r
+who was pawing the ground and champing his bit. At last all were seated,\r
+the carriage steps were folded and pulled up, the door was shut,\r
+somebody was sent for a traveling case, and the countess leaned out and\r
+said what she had to say. Then Efim deliberately doffed his hat and\r
+began crossing himself. The postilion and all the other servants did the\r
+same. "Off, in God's name!" said Efim, putting on his hat. "Start!" The\r
+postilion started the horses, the off pole horse tugged at his collar,\r
+the high springs creaked, and the body of the coach swayed. The footman\r
+sprang onto the box of the moving coach which jolted as it passed out of\r
+the yard onto the uneven roadway; the other vehicles jolted in their\r
+turn, and the procession of carriages moved up the street. In the\r
+carriages, the caleche, and the phaeton, all crossed themselves as they\r
+passed the church opposite the house. Those who were to remain in Moscow\r
+walked on either side of the vehicles seeing the travelers off.\r
+\r
+Rarely had Natasha experienced so joyful a feeling as now, sitting in\r
+the carriage beside the countess and gazing at the slowly receding walls\r
+of forsaken, agitated Moscow. Occasionally she leaned out of the\r
+carriage window and looked back and then forward at the long train of\r
+wounded in front of them. Almost at the head of the line she could see\r
+the raised hood of Prince Andrew's caleche. She did not know who was in\r
+it, but each time she looked at the procession her eyes sought that\r
+caleche. She knew it was right in front.\r
+\r
+In Kudrino, from the Nikitski, Presnya, and Podnovinsk Streets came\r
+several other trains of vehicles similar to the Rostovs', and as they\r
+passed along the Sadovaya Street the carriages and carts formed two rows\r
+abreast.\r
+\r
+As they were going round the Sukharev water tower Natasha, who was\r
+inquisitively and alertly scrutinizing the people driving or walking\r
+past, suddenly cried out in joyful surprise:\r
+\r
+"Dear me! Mamma, Sonya, look, it's he!"\r
+\r
+"Who? Who?"\r
+\r
+"Look! Yes, on my word, it's Bezukhov!" said Natasha, putting her head\r
+out of the carriage and staring at a tall, stout man in a coachman's\r
+long coat, who from his manner of walking and moving was evidently a\r
+gentleman in disguise, and who was passing under the arch of the\r
+Sukharev tower accompanied by a small, sallow-faced, beardless old man\r
+in a frieze coat.\r
+\r
+"Yes, it really is Bezukhov in a coachman's coat, with a queer-looking\r
+old boy. Really," said Natasha, "look, look!"\r
+\r
+"No, it's not he. How can you talk such nonsense?"\r
+\r
+"Mamma," screamed Natasha, "I'll stake my head it's he! I assure you!\r
+Stop, stop!" she cried to the coachman.\r
+\r
+But the coachman could not stop, for from the Meshchanski Street came\r
+more carts and carriages, and the Rostovs were being shouted at to move\r
+on and not block the way.\r
+\r
+In fact, however, though now much farther off than before, the Rostovs\r
+all saw Pierre--or someone extraordinarily like him--in a coachman's\r
+coat, going down the street with head bent and a serious face beside a\r
+small, beardless old man who looked like a footman. That old man noticed\r
+a face thrust out of the carriage window gazing at them, and\r
+respectfully touching Pierre's elbow said something to him and pointed\r
+to the carriage. Pierre, evidently engrossed in thought, could not at\r
+first understand him. At length when he had understood and looked in the\r
+direction the old man indicated, he recognized Natasha, and following\r
+his first impulse stepped instantly and rapidly toward the coach. But\r
+having taken a dozen steps he seemed to remember something and stopped.\r
+\r
+Natasha's face, leaning out of the window, beamed with quizzical\r
+kindliness.\r
+\r
+"Peter Kirilovich, come here! We have recognized you! This is\r
+wonderful!" she cried, holding out her hand to him. "What are you doing?\r
+Why are you like this?"\r
+\r
+Pierre took her outstretched hand and kissed it awkwardly as he walked\r
+along beside her while the coach still moved on.\r
+\r
+"What is the matter, Count?" asked the countess in a surprised and\r
+commiserating tone.\r
+\r
+"What? What? Why? Don't ask me," said Pierre, and looked round at\r
+Natasha whose radiant, happy expression--of which he was conscious\r
+without looking at her--filled him with enchantment.\r
+\r
+"Are you remaining in Moscow, then?"\r
+\r
+Pierre hesitated.\r
+\r
+"In Moscow?" he said in a questioning tone. "Yes, in Moscow. Good-bye!"\r
+\r
+"Ah, if only I were a man? I'd certainly stay with you. How splendid!"\r
+said Natasha. "Mamma, if you'll let me, I'll stay!"\r
+\r
+Pierre glanced absently at Natasha and was about to say something, but\r
+the countess interrupted him.\r
+\r
+"You were at the battle, we heard."\r
+\r
+"Yes, I was," Pierre answered. "There will be another battle\r
+tomorrow..." he began, but Natasha interrupted him.\r
+\r
+"But what is the matter with you, Count? You are not like yourself...."\r
+\r
+"Oh, don't ask me, don't ask me! I don't know myself. Tomorrow... But\r
+no! Good-bye, good-by!" he muttered. "It's an awful time!" and dropping\r
+behind the carriage he stepped onto the pavement.\r
+\r
+Natasha continued to lean out of the window for a long time, beaming at\r
+him with her kindly, slightly quizzical, happy smile.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVIII\r
+\r
+For the last two days, ever since leaving home, Pierre had been living\r
+in the empty house of his deceased benefactor, Bazdeev. This is how it\r
+happened.\r
+\r
+When he woke up on the morning after his return to Moscow and his\r
+interview with Count Rostopchin, he could not for some time make out\r
+where he was and what was expected of him. When he was informed that\r
+among others awaiting him in his reception room there was a Frenchman\r
+who had brought a letter from his wife, the Countess Helene, he felt\r
+suddenly overcome by that sense of confusion and hopelessness to which\r
+he was apt to succumb. He felt that everything was now at an end, all\r
+was in confusion and crumbling to pieces, that nobody was right or\r
+wrong, the future held nothing, and there was no escape from this\r
+position. Smiling unnaturally and muttering to himself, he first sat\r
+down on the sofa in an attitude of despair, then rose, went to the door\r
+of the reception room and peeped through the crack, returned flourishing\r
+his arms, and took up a book. His major-domo came in a second time to\r
+say that the Frenchman who had brought the letter from the countess was\r
+very anxious to see him if only for a minute, and that someone from\r
+Bazdeev's widow had called to ask Pierre to take charge of her husband's\r
+books, as she herself was leaving for the country.\r
+\r
+"Oh, yes, in a minute; wait... or no! No, of course... go and say I will\r
+come directly," Pierre replied to the major-domo.\r
+\r
+But as soon as the man had left the room Pierre took up his hat which\r
+was lying on the table and went out of his study by the other door.\r
+There was no one in the passage. He went along the whole length of this\r
+passage to the stairs and, frowning and rubbing his forehead with both\r
+hands, went down as far as the first landing. The hall porter was\r
+standing at the front door. From the landing where Pierre stood there\r
+was a second staircase leading to the back entrance. He went down that\r
+staircase and out into the yard. No one had seen him. But there were\r
+some carriages waiting, and as soon as Pierre stepped out of the gate\r
+the coachmen and the yard porter noticed him and raised their caps to\r
+him. When he felt he was being looked at he behaved like an ostrich\r
+which hides its head in a bush in order not to be seen: he hung his head\r
+and quickening his pace went down the street.\r
+\r
+Of all the affairs awaiting Pierre that day the sorting of Joseph\r
+Bazdeev's books and papers appeared to him the most necessary.\r
+\r
+He hired the first cab he met and told the driver to go to the\r
+Patriarch's Ponds, where the widow Bazdeev's house was.\r
+\r
+Continually turning round to look at the rows of loaded carts that were\r
+making their way from all sides out of Moscow, and balancing his bulky\r
+body so as not to slip out of the ramshackle old vehicle, Pierre,\r
+experiencing the joyful feeling of a boy escaping from school, began to\r
+talk to his driver.\r
+\r
+The man told him that arms were being distributed today at the Kremlin\r
+and that tomorrow everyone would be sent out beyond the Three Hills\r
+gates and a great battle would be fought there.\r
+\r
+Having reached the Patriarch's Ponds Pierre found the Bazdeevs' house,\r
+where he had not been for a long time past. He went up to the gate.\r
+Gerasim, that sallow beardless old man Pierre had seen at Torzhok five\r
+years before with Joseph Bazdeev, came out in answer to his knock.\r
+\r
+"At home?" asked Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Owing to the present state of things Sophia Danilovna has gone to the\r
+Torzhok estate with the children, your excellency."\r
+\r
+"I will come in all the same, I have to look through the books," said\r
+Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Be so good as to step in. Makar Alexeevich, the brother of my late\r
+master--may the kingdom of heaven be his--has remained here, but he is\r
+in a weak state as you know," said the old servant.\r
+\r
+Pierre knew that Makar Alexeevich was Joseph Bazdeev's half-insane\r
+brother and a hard drinker.\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes, I know. Let us go in..." said Pierre and entered the house.\r
+\r
+A tall, bald-headed old man with a red nose, wearing a dressing gown and\r
+with galoshes on his bare feet, stood in the anteroom. On seeing Pierre\r
+he muttered something angrily and went away along the passage.\r
+\r
+"He was a very clever man but has now grown quite feeble, as your honor\r
+sees," said Gerasim. "Will you step into the study?" Pierre nodded. "As\r
+it was sealed up so it has remained, but Sophia Danilovna gave orders\r
+that if anyone should come from you they were to have the books."\r
+\r
+Pierre went into that gloomy study which he had entered with such\r
+trepidation in his benefactor's lifetime. The room, dusty and untouched\r
+since the death of Joseph Bazdeev was now even gloomier.\r
+\r
+Gerasim opened one of the shutters and left the room on tiptoe. Pierre\r
+went round the study, approached the cupboard in which the manuscripts\r
+were kept, and took out what had once been one of the most important,\r
+the holy of holies of the order. This was the authentic Scotch Acts with\r
+Bazdeev's notes and explanations. He sat down at the dusty writing\r
+table, and, having laid the manuscripts before him, opened them out,\r
+closed them, finally pushed them away, and resting his head on his hand\r
+sank into meditation.\r
+\r
+Gerasim looked cautiously into the study several times and saw Pierre\r
+always sitting in the same attitude.\r
+\r
+More than two hours passed and Gerasim took the liberty of making a\r
+slight noise at the door to attract his attention, but Pierre did not\r
+hear him.\r
+\r
+"Is the cabman to be discharged, your honor?"\r
+\r
+"Oh yes!" said Pierre, rousing himself and rising hurriedly. "Look\r
+here," he added, taking Gerasim by a button of his coat and looking down\r
+at the old man with moist, shining, and ecstatic eyes, "I say, do you\r
+know that there is going to be a battle tomorrow?"\r
+\r
+"We heard so," replied the man.\r
+\r
+"I beg you not to tell anyone who I am, and to do what I ask you."\r
+\r
+"Yes, your excellency," replied Gerasim. "Will you have something to\r
+eat?"\r
+\r
+"No, but I want something else. I want peasant clothes and a pistol,"\r
+said Pierre, unexpectedly blushing.\r
+\r
+"Yes, your excellency," said Gerasim after thinking for a moment.\r
+\r
+All the rest of that day Pierre spent alone in his benefactor's study,\r
+and Gerasim heard him pacing restlessly from one corner to another and\r
+talking to himself. And he spent the night on a bed made up for him\r
+there.\r
+\r
+Gerasim, being a servant who in his time had seen many strange things,\r
+accepted Pierre's taking up his residence in the house without surprise,\r
+and seemed pleased to have someone to wait on. That same evening--\r
+without even asking himself what they were wanted for--he procured a\r
+coachman's coat and cap for Pierre, and promised to get him the pistol\r
+next day. Makar Alexeevich came twice that evening shuffling along in\r
+his galoshes as far as the door and stopped and looked ingratiatingly at\r
+Pierre. But as soon as Pierre turned toward him he wrapped his dressing\r
+gown around him with a shamefaced and angry look and hurried away. It\r
+was when Pierre (wearing the coachman's coat which Gerasim had procured\r
+for him and had disinfected by steam) was on his way with the old man to\r
+buy the pistol at the Sukharev market that he met the Rostovs.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIX\r
+\r
+Kutuzov's order to retreat through Moscow to the Ryazan road was issued\r
+at night on the first of September.\r
+\r
+The first troops started at once, and during the night they marched\r
+slowly and steadily without hurry. At daybreak, however, those nearing\r
+the town at the Dorogomilov bridge saw ahead of them masses of soldiers\r
+crowding and hurrying across the bridge, ascending on the opposite side\r
+and blocking the streets and alleys, while endless masses of troops were\r
+bearing down on them from behind, and an unreasoning hurry and alarm\r
+overcame them. They all rushed forward to the bridge, onto it, and to\r
+the fords and the boats. Kutuzov himself had driven round by side\r
+streets to the other side of Moscow.\r
+\r
+By ten o'clock in the morning of the second of September, only the rear\r
+guard remained in the Dorogomilov suburb, where they had ample room. The\r
+main army was on the other side of Moscow or beyond it.\r
+\r
+At that very time, at ten in the morning of the second of September,\r
+Napoleon was standing among his troops on the Poklonny Hill looking at\r
+the panorama spread out before him. From the twenty-sixth of August to\r
+the second of September, that is from the battle of Borodino to the\r
+entry of the French into Moscow, during the whole of that agitating,\r
+memorable week, there had been the extraordinary autumn weather that\r
+always comes as a surprise, when the sun hangs low and gives more heat\r
+than in spring, when everything shines so brightly in the rare clear\r
+atmosphere that the eyes smart, when the lungs are strengthened and\r
+refreshed by inhaling the aromatic autumn air, when even the nights are\r
+warm, and when in those dark warm nights, golden stars startle and\r
+delight us continually by falling from the sky.\r
+\r
+At ten in the morning of the second of September this weather still\r
+held.\r
+\r
+The brightness of the morning was magical. Moscow seen from the Poklonny\r
+Hill lay spaciously spread out with her river, her gardens, and her\r
+churches, and she seemed to be living her usual life, her cupolas\r
+glittering like stars in the sunlight.\r
+\r
+The view of the strange city with its peculiar architecture, such as he\r
+had never seen before, filled Napoleon with the rather envious and\r
+uneasy curiosity men feel when they see an alien form of life that has\r
+no knowledge of them. This city was evidently living with the full force\r
+of its own life. By the indefinite signs which, even at a distance,\r
+distinguish a living body from a dead one, Napoleon from the Poklonny\r
+Hill perceived the throb of life in the town and felt, as it were, the\r
+breathing of that great and beautiful body.\r
+\r
+Every Russian looking at Moscow feels her to be a mother; every\r
+foreigner who sees her, even if ignorant of her significance as the\r
+mother city, must feel her feminine character, and Napoleon felt it.\r
+\r
+"Cette ville asiatique aux innombrables eglises, Moscou la sainte. La\r
+voila done enfin, cette fameuse ville! Il etait temps," * said he, and\r
+dismounting he ordered a plan of Moscow to be spread out before him, and\r
+summoned Lelorgne d'Ideville, the interpreter.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "That Asiatic city of the innumerable churches, holy Moscow! Here it\r
+is then at last, that famous city. It was high time."\r
+\r
+"A town captured by the enemy is like a maid who has lost her honor,"\r
+thought he (he had said so to Tuchkov at Smolensk). From that point of\r
+view he gazed at the Oriental beauty he had not seen before. It seemed\r
+strange to him that his long-felt wish, which had seemed unattainable,\r
+had at last been realized. In the clear morning light he gazed now at\r
+the city and now at the plan, considering its details, and the assurance\r
+of possessing it agitated and awed him.\r
+\r
+"But could it be otherwise?" he thought. "Here is this capital at my\r
+feet. Where is Alexander now, and of what is he thinking? A strange,\r
+beautiful, and majestic city; and a strange and majestic moment! In what\r
+light must I appear to them!" thought he, thinking of his troops. "Here\r
+she is, the reward for all those fainthearted men," he reflected,\r
+glancing at those near him and at the troops who were approaching and\r
+forming up. "One word from me, one movement of my hand, and that ancient\r
+capital of the Tsars would perish. But my clemency is always ready to\r
+descend upon the vanquished. I must be magnanimous and truly great. But\r
+no, it can't be true that I am in Moscow," he suddenly thought. "Yet\r
+here she is lying at my feet, with her golden domes and crosses\r
+scintillating and twinkling in the sunshine. But I shall spare her. On\r
+the ancient monuments of barbarism and despotism I will inscribe great\r
+words of justice and mercy.... It is just this which Alexander will feel\r
+most painfully, I know him." (It seemed to Napoleon that the chief\r
+import of what was taking place lay in the personal struggle between\r
+himself and Alexander.) "From the height of the Kremlin--yes, there is\r
+the Kremlin, yes--I will give them just laws; I will teach them the\r
+meaning of true civilization, I will make generations of boyars remember\r
+their conqueror with love. I will tell the deputation that I did not,\r
+and do not, desire war, that I have waged war only against the false\r
+policy of their court; that I love and respect Alexander and that in\r
+Moscow I will accept terms of peace worthy of myself and of my people. I\r
+do not wish to utilize the fortunes of war to humiliate an honored\r
+monarch. 'Boyars,' I will say to them, 'I do not desire war, I desire\r
+the peace and welfare of all my subjects.' However, I know their\r
+presence will inspire me, and I shall speak to them as I always do:\r
+clearly, impressively, and majestically. But can it be true that I am in\r
+Moscow? Yes, there she lies."\r
+\r
+"Qu'on m'amene les boyars," * said he to his suite.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Bring the boyars to me."\r
+\r
+A general with a brilliant suite galloped off at once to fetch the\r
+boyars.\r
+\r
+Two hours passed. Napoleon had lunched and was again standing in the\r
+same place on the Poklonny Hill awaiting the deputation. His speech to\r
+the boyars had already taken definite shape in his imagination. That\r
+speech was full of dignity and greatness as Napoleon understood it.\r
+\r
+He was himself carried away by the tone of magnanimity he intended to\r
+adopt toward Moscow. In his imagination he appointed days for assemblies\r
+at the palace of the Tsars, at which Russian notables and his own would\r
+mingle. He mentally appointed a governor, one who would win the hearts\r
+of the people. Having learned that there were many charitable\r
+institutions in Moscow he mentally decided that he would shower favors\r
+on them all. He thought that, as in Africa he had to put on a burnoose\r
+and sit in a mosque, so in Moscow he must be beneficent like the Tsars.\r
+And in order finally to touch the hearts of the Russians--and being like\r
+all Frenchmen unable to imagine anything sentimental without a reference\r
+to ma chere, ma tendre, ma pauvre mere * --he decided that he would\r
+place an inscription on all these establishments in large letters: "This\r
+establishment is dedicated to my dear mother." Or no, it should be\r
+simply: Maison de ma Mere, *(2) he concluded. "But am I really in\r
+Moscow? Yes, here it lies before me, but why is the deputation from the\r
+city so long in appearing?" he wondered.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "My dear, my tender, my poor mother."\r
+\r
+* (2) "House of my Mother."\r
+\r
+Meanwhile an agitated consultation was being carried on in whispers\r
+among his generals and marshals at the rear of his suite. Those sent to\r
+fetch the deputation had returned with the news that Moscow was empty,\r
+that everyone had left it. The faces of those who were not conferring\r
+together were pale and perturbed. They were not alarmed by the fact that\r
+Moscow had been abandoned by its inhabitants (grave as that fact\r
+seemed), but by the question how to tell the Emperor--without putting\r
+him in the terrible position of appearing ridiculous--that he had been\r
+awaiting the boyars so long in vain: that there were drunken mobs left\r
+in Moscow but no one else. Some said that a deputation of some sort must\r
+be scraped together, others disputed that opinion and maintained that\r
+the Emperor should first be carefully and skillfully prepared, and then\r
+told the truth.\r
+\r
+"He will have to be told, all the same," said some gentlemen of the\r
+suite. "But, gentlemen..."\r
+\r
+The position was the more awkward because the Emperor, meditating upon\r
+his magnanimous plans, was pacing patiently up and down before the\r
+outspread map, occasionally glancing along the road to Moscow from under\r
+his lifted hand with a bright and proud smile.\r
+\r
+"But it's impossible..." declared the gentlemen of the suite, shrugging\r
+their shoulders but not venturing to utter the implied word--le\r
+ridicule...\r
+\r
+At last the Emperor, tired of futile expectation, his actor's instinct\r
+suggesting to him that the sublime moment having been too long drawn out\r
+was beginning to lose its sublimity, gave a sign with his hand. A single\r
+report of a signaling gun followed, and the troops, who were already\r
+spread out on different sides of Moscow, moved into the city through\r
+Tver, Kaluga, and Dorogomilov gates. Faster and faster, vying with one\r
+another, they moved at the double or at a trot, vanishing amid the\r
+clouds of dust they raised and making the air ring with a deafening roar\r
+of mingling shouts.\r
+\r
+Drawn on by the movement of his troops Napoleon rode with them as far as\r
+the Dorogomilov gate, but there again stopped and, dismounting from his\r
+horse, paced for a long time by the Kammer-Kollezski rampart, awaiting\r
+the deputation.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XX\r
+\r
+Meanwhile Moscow was empty. There were still people in it, perhaps a\r
+fiftieth part of its former inhabitants had remained, but it was empty.\r
+It was empty in the sense that a dying queenless hive is empty.\r
+\r
+In a queenless hive no life is left though to a superficial glance it\r
+seems as much alive as other hives.\r
+\r
+The bees circle round a queenless hive in the hot beams of the midday\r
+sun as gaily as around the living hives; from a distance it smells of\r
+honey like the others, and bees fly in and out in the same way. But one\r
+has only to observe that hive to realize that there is no longer any\r
+life in it. The bees do not fly in the same way, the smell and the sound\r
+that meet the beekeeper are not the same. To the beekeeper's tap on the\r
+wall of the sick hive, instead of the former instant unanimous humming\r
+of tens of thousands of bees with their abdomens threateningly\r
+compressed, and producing by the rapid vibration of their wings an\r
+aerial living sound, the only reply is a disconnected buzzing from\r
+different parts of the deserted hive. From the alighting board, instead\r
+of the former spirituous fragrant smell of honey and venom, and the warm\r
+whiffs of crowded life, comes an odor of emptiness and decay mingling\r
+with the smell of honey. There are no longer sentinels sounding the\r
+alarm with their abdomens raised, and ready to die in defense of the\r
+hive. There is no longer the measured quiet sound of throbbing activity,\r
+like the sound of boiling water, but diverse discordant sounds of\r
+disorder. In and out of the hive long black robber bees smeared with\r
+honey fly timidly and shiftily. They do not sting, but crawl away from\r
+danger. Formerly only bees laden with honey flew into the hive, and they\r
+flew out empty; now they fly out laden. The beekeeper opens the lower\r
+part of the hive and peers in. Instead of black, glossy bees--tamed by\r
+toil, clinging to one another's legs and drawing out the wax, with a\r
+ceaseless hum of labor--that used to hang in long clusters down to the\r
+floor of the hive, drowsy shriveled bees crawl about separately in\r
+various directions on the floor and walls of the hive. Instead of a\r
+neatly glued floor, swept by the bees with the fanning of their wings,\r
+there is a floor littered with bits of wax, excrement, dying bees\r
+scarcely moving their legs, and dead ones that have not been cleared\r
+away.\r
+\r
+The beekeeper opens the upper part of the hive and examines the super.\r
+Instead of serried rows of bees sealing up every gap in the combs and\r
+keeping the brood warm, he sees the skillful complex structures of the\r
+combs, but no longer in their former state of purity. All is neglected\r
+and foul. Black robber bees are swiftly and stealthily prowling about\r
+the combs, and the short home bees, shriveled and listless as if they\r
+were old, creep slowly about without trying to hinder the robbers,\r
+having lost all motive and all sense of life. Drones, bumblebees, wasps,\r
+and butterflies knock awkwardly against the walls of the hive in their\r
+flight. Here and there among the cells containing dead brood and honey\r
+an angry buzzing can sometimes be heard. Here and there a couple of\r
+bees, by force of habit and custom cleaning out the brood cells, with\r
+efforts beyond their strength laboriously drag away a dead bee or\r
+bumblebee without knowing why they do it. In another corner two old bees\r
+are languidly fighting, or cleaning themselves, or feeding one another,\r
+without themselves knowing whether they do it with friendly or hostile\r
+intent. In a third place a crowd of bees, crushing one another, attack\r
+some victim and fight and smother it, and the victim, enfeebled or\r
+killed, drops from above slowly and lightly as a feather, among the heap\r
+of corpses. The keeper opens the two center partitions to examine the\r
+brood cells. In place of the former close dark circles formed by\r
+thousands of bees sitting back to back and guarding the high mystery of\r
+generation, he sees hundreds of dull, listless, and sleepy shells of\r
+bees. They have almost all died unawares, sitting in the sanctuary they\r
+had guarded and which is now no more. They reek of decay and death. Only\r
+a few of them still move, rise, and feebly fly to settle on the enemy's\r
+hand, lacking the spirit to die stinging him; the rest are dead and fall\r
+as lightly as fish scales. The beekeeper closes the hive, chalks a mark\r
+on it, and when he has time tears out its contents and burns it clean.\r
+\r
+So in the same way Moscow was empty when Napoleon, weary, uneasy, and\r
+morose, paced up and down in front of the Kammer-Kollezski rampart,\r
+awaiting what to his mind was a necessary, if but formal, observance of\r
+the proprieties--a deputation.\r
+\r
+In various corners of Moscow there still remained a few people aimlessly\r
+moving about, following their old habits and hardly aware of what they\r
+were doing.\r
+\r
+When with due circumspection Napoleon was informed that Moscow was\r
+empty, he looked angrily at his informant, turned away, and silently\r
+continued to walk to and fro.\r
+\r
+"My carriage!" he said.\r
+\r
+He took his seat beside the aide-de-camp on duty and drove into the\r
+suburb. "Moscow deserted!" he said to himself. "What an incredible\r
+event!"\r
+\r
+He did not drive into the town, but put up at an inn in the Dorogomilov\r
+suburb.\r
+\r
+The coup de theatre had not come off.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXI\r
+\r
+The Russian troops were passing through Moscow from two o'clock at night\r
+till two in the afternoon and bore away with them the wounded and the\r
+last of the inhabitants who were leaving.\r
+\r
+The greatest crush during the movement of the troops took place at the\r
+Stone, Moskva, and Yauza bridges.\r
+\r
+While the troops, dividing into two parts when passing around the\r
+Kremlin, were thronging the Moskva and the Stone bridges, a great many\r
+soldiers, taking advantage of the stoppage and congestion, turned back\r
+from the bridges and slipped stealthily and silently past the church of\r
+Vasili the Beatified and under the Borovitski gate, back up the hill to\r
+the Red Square where some instinct told them they could easily take\r
+things not belonging to them. Crowds of the kind seen at cheap sales\r
+filled all the passages and alleys of the Bazaar. But there were no\r
+dealers with voices of ingratiating affability inviting customers to\r
+enter; there were no hawkers, nor the usual motley crowd of female\r
+purchasers--but only soldiers, in uniforms and overcoats though without\r
+muskets, entering the Bazaar empty-handed and silently making their way\r
+out through its passages with bundles. Tradesmen and their assistants\r
+(of whom there were but few) moved about among the soldiers quite\r
+bewildered. They unlocked their shops and locked them up again, and\r
+themselves carried goods away with the help of their assistants. On the\r
+square in front of the Bazaar were drummers beating the muster call. But\r
+the roll of the drums did not make the looting soldiers run in the\r
+direction of the drum as formerly, but made them, on the contrary, run\r
+farther away. Among the soldiers in the shops and passages some men were\r
+to be seen in gray coats, with closely shaven heads. Two officers, one\r
+with a scarf over his uniform and mounted on a lean, dark-gray horse,\r
+the other in an overcoat and on foot, stood at the corner of Ilyinka\r
+Street, talking. A third officer galloped up to them.\r
+\r
+"The general orders them all to be driven out at once, without fail.\r
+This is outrageous! Half the men have dispersed."\r
+\r
+"Where are you off to?... Where?..." he shouted to three infantrymen\r
+without muskets who, holding up the skirts of their overcoats, were\r
+slipping past him into the Bazaar passage. "Stop, you rascals!"\r
+\r
+"But how are you going to stop them?" replied another officer. "There is\r
+no getting them together. The army should push on before the rest bolt,\r
+that's all!"\r
+\r
+"How can one push on? They are stuck there, wedged on the bridge, and\r
+don't move. Shouldn't we put a cordon round to prevent the rest from\r
+running away?"\r
+\r
+"Come, go in there and drive them out!" shouted the senior officer.\r
+\r
+The officer in the scarf dismounted, called up a drummer, and went with\r
+him into the arcade. Some soldiers started running away in a group. A\r
+shopkeeper with red pimples on his cheeks near the nose, and a calm,\r
+persistent, calculating expression on his plump face, hurriedly and\r
+ostentatiously approached the officer, swinging his arms.\r
+\r
+"Your honor!" said he. "Be so good as to protect us! We won't grudge\r
+trifles, you are welcome to anything--we shall be delighted! Pray!...\r
+I'll fetch a piece of cloth at once for such an honorable gentleman, or\r
+even two pieces with pleasure. For we feel how it is; but what's all\r
+this--sheer robbery! If you please, could not guards be placed if only\r
+to let us close the shop...."\r
+\r
+Several shopkeepers crowded round the officer.\r
+\r
+"Eh, what twaddle!" said one of them, a thin, stern-looking man. "When\r
+one's head is gone one doesn't weep for one's hair! Take what any of you\r
+like!" And flourishing his arm energetically he turned sideways to the\r
+officer.\r
+\r
+"It's all very well for you, Ivan Sidorych, to talk," said the first\r
+tradesman angrily. "Please step inside, your honor!"\r
+\r
+"Talk indeed!" cried the thin one. "In my three shops here I have a\r
+hundred thousand rubles' worth of goods. Can they be saved when the army\r
+has gone? Eh, what people! 'Against God's might our hands can't fight.'"\r
+\r
+"Come inside, your honor!" repeated the tradesman, bowing.\r
+\r
+The officer stood perplexed and his face showed indecision.\r
+\r
+"It's not my business!" he exclaimed, and strode on quickly down one of\r
+the passages.\r
+\r
+From one open shop came the sound of blows and vituperation, and just as\r
+the officer came up to it a man in a gray coat with a shaven head was\r
+flung out violently.\r
+\r
+This man, bent double, rushed past the tradesman and the officer. The\r
+officer pounced on the soldiers who were in the shops, but at that\r
+moment fearful screams reached them from the huge crowd on the Moskva\r
+bridge and the officer ran out into the square.\r
+\r
+"What is it? What is it?" he asked, but his comrade was already\r
+galloping off past Vasili the Beatified in the direction from which the\r
+screams came.\r
+\r
+The officer mounted his horse and rode after him. When he reached the\r
+bridge he saw two unlimbered guns, the infantry crossing the bridge,\r
+several overturned carts, and frightened and laughing faces among the\r
+troops. Beside the cannon a cart was standing to which two horses were\r
+harnessed. Four borzois with collars were pressing close to the wheels.\r
+The cart was loaded high, and at the very top, beside a child's chair\r
+with its legs in the air, sat a peasant woman uttering piercing and\r
+desperate shrieks. He was told by his fellow officers that the screams\r
+of the crowd and the shrieks of the woman were due to the fact that\r
+General Ermolov, coming up to the crowd and learning that soldiers were\r
+dispersing among the shops while crowds of civilians blocked the bridge,\r
+had ordered two guns to be unlimbered and made a show of firing at the\r
+bridge. The crowd, crushing one another, upsetting carts, and shouting\r
+and squeezing desperately, had cleared off the bridge and the troops\r
+were now moving forward.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXII\r
+\r
+Meanwhile, the city itself was deserted. There was hardly anyone in the\r
+streets. The gates and shops were all closed, only here and there round\r
+the taverns solitary shouts or drunken songs could be heard. Nobody\r
+drove through the streets and footsteps were rarely heard. The\r
+Povarskaya was quite still and deserted. The huge courtyard of the\r
+Rostovs' house was littered with wisps of hay and with dung from the\r
+horses, and not a soul was to be seen there. In the great drawing room\r
+of the house, which had been left with all it contained, were two\r
+people. They were the yard porter Ignat, and the page boy Mishka,\r
+Vasilich's grandson who had stayed in Moscow with his grandfather.\r
+Mishka had opened the clavichord and was strumming on it with one\r
+finger. The yard porter, his arms akimbo, stood smiling with\r
+satisfaction before the large mirror.\r
+\r
+"Isn't it fine, eh, Uncle Ignat?" said the boy, suddenly beginning to\r
+strike the keyboard with both hands.\r
+\r
+"Only fancy!" answered Ignat, surprised at the broadening grin on his\r
+face in the mirror.\r
+\r
+"Impudence! Impudence!" they heard behind them the voice of Mavra\r
+Kuzminichna who had entered silently. "How he's grinning, the fat mug!\r
+Is that what you're here for? Nothing's cleared away down there and\r
+Vasilich is worn out. Just you wait a bit!"\r
+\r
+Ignat left off smiling, adjusted his belt, and went out of the room with\r
+meekly downcast eyes.\r
+\r
+"Aunt, I did it gently," said the boy.\r
+\r
+"I'll give you something gently, you monkey you!" cried Mavra\r
+Kuzminichna, raising her arm threateningly. "Go and get the samovar to\r
+boil for your grandfather."\r
+\r
+Mavra Kuzminichna flicked the dust off the clavichord and closed it, and\r
+with a deep sigh left the drawing room and locked its main door.\r
+\r
+Going out into the yard she paused to consider where she should go next-\r
+-to drink tea in the servants' wing with Vasilich, or into the storeroom\r
+to put away what still lay about.\r
+\r
+She heard the sound of quick footsteps in the quiet street. Someone\r
+stopped at the gate, and the latch rattled as someone tried to open it.\r
+Mavra Kuzminichna went to the gate.\r
+\r
+"Who do you want?"\r
+\r
+"The count--Count Ilya Andreevich Rostov."\r
+\r
+"And who are you?"\r
+\r
+"An officer, I have to see him," came the reply in a pleasant, well-bred\r
+Russian voice.\r
+\r
+Mavra Kuzminichna opened the gate and an officer of eighteen, with the\r
+round face of a Rostov, entered the yard.\r
+\r
+"They have gone away, sir. Went away yesterday at vespertime," said\r
+Mavra Kuzminichna cordially.\r
+\r
+The young officer standing in the gateway, as if hesitating whether to\r
+enter or not, clicked his tongue.\r
+\r
+"Ah, how annoying!" he muttered. "I should have come yesterday.... Ah,\r
+what a pity."\r
+\r
+Meanwhile, Mavra Kuzminichna was attentively and sympathetically\r
+examining the familiar Rostov features of the young man's face, his\r
+tattered coat and trodden-down boots.\r
+\r
+"What did you want to see the count for?" she asked.\r
+\r
+"Oh well... it can't be helped!" said he in a tone of vexation and\r
+placed his hand on the gate as if to leave.\r
+\r
+He again paused in indecision.\r
+\r
+"You see," he suddenly said, "I am a kinsman of the count's and he has\r
+been very kind to me. As you see" (he glanced with an amused air and\r
+good-natured smile at his coat and boots) "my things are worn out and I\r
+have no money, so I was going to ask the count..."\r
+\r
+Mavra Kuzminichna did not let him finish.\r
+\r
+"Just wait a minute, sir. One little moment," said she.\r
+\r
+And as soon as the officer let go of the gate handle she turned and,\r
+hurrying away on her old legs, went through the back yard to the\r
+servants' quarters.\r
+\r
+While Mavra Kuzminichna was running to her room the officer walked about\r
+the yard gazing at his worn-out boots with lowered head and a faint\r
+smile on his lips. "What a pity I've missed Uncle! What a nice old\r
+woman! Where has she run off to? And how am I to find the nearest way to\r
+overtake my regiment, which must by now be getting near the Rogozhski\r
+gate?" thought he. Just then Mavra Kuzminichna appeared from behind the\r
+corner of the house with a frightened yet resolute look, carrying a\r
+rolled-up check kerchief in her hand. While still a few steps from the\r
+officer she unfolded the kerchief and took out of it a white twenty-\r
+five-ruble assignat and hastily handed it to him.\r
+\r
+"If his excellency had been at home, as a kinsman he would of course...\r
+but as it is..."\r
+\r
+Mavra Kuzminichna grew abashed and confused. The officer did not\r
+decline, but took the note quietly and thanked her.\r
+\r
+"If the count had been at home..." Mavra Kuzminichna went on\r
+apologetically. "Christ be with you, sir! May God preserve you!" said\r
+she, bowing as she saw him out.\r
+\r
+Swaying his head and smiling as if amused at himself, the officer ran\r
+almost at a trot through the deserted streets toward the Yauza bridge to\r
+overtake his regiment.\r
+\r
+But Mavra Kuzminichna stood at the closed gate for some time with moist\r
+eyes, pensively swaying her head and feeling an unexpected flow of\r
+motherly tenderness and pity for the unknown young officer.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXIII\r
+\r
+From an unfinished house on the Varvarka, the ground floor of which was\r
+a dramshop, came drunken shouts and songs. On benches round the tables\r
+in a dirty little room sat some ten factory hands. Tipsy and perspiring,\r
+with dim eyes and wide-open mouths, they were all laboriously singing\r
+some song or other. They were singing discordantly, arduously, and with\r
+great effort, evidently not because they wished to sing, but because\r
+they wanted to show they were drunk and on a spree. One, a tall, fair-\r
+haired lad in a clean blue coat, was standing over the others. His face\r
+with its fine straight nose would have been handsome had it not been for\r
+his thin, compressed, twitching lips and dull, gloomy, fixed eyes.\r
+Evidently possessed by some idea, he stood over those who were singing,\r
+and solemnly and jerkily flourished above their heads his white arm with\r
+the sleeve turned up to the elbow, trying unnaturally to spread out his\r
+dirty fingers. The sleeve of his coat kept slipping down and he always\r
+carefully rolled it up again with his left hand, as if it were most\r
+important that the sinewy white arm he was flourishing should be bare.\r
+In the midst of the song cries were heard, and fighting and blows in the\r
+passage and porch. The tall lad waved his arm.\r
+\r
+"Stop it!" he exclaimed peremptorily. "There's a fight, lads!" And,\r
+still rolling up his sleeve, he went out to the porch.\r
+\r
+The factory hands followed him. These men, who under the leadership of\r
+the tall lad were drinking in the dramshop that morning, had brought the\r
+publican some skins from the factory and for this had had drink served\r
+them. The blacksmiths from a neighboring smithy, hearing the sounds of\r
+revelry in the tavern and supposing it to have been broken into, wished\r
+to force their way in too and a fight in the porch had resulted.\r
+\r
+The publican was fighting one of the smiths at the door, and when the\r
+workmen came out the smith, wrenching himself free from the tavern\r
+keeper, fell face downward on the pavement.\r
+\r
+Another smith tried to enter the doorway, pressing against the publican\r
+with his chest.\r
+\r
+The lad with the turned-up sleeve gave the smith a blow in the face and\r
+cried wildly: "They're fighting us, lads!"\r
+\r
+At that moment the first smith got up and, scratching his bruised face\r
+to make it bleed, shouted in a tearful voice: "Police! Murder!...\r
+They've killed a man, lads!"\r
+\r
+"Oh, gracious me, a man beaten to death--killed!..." screamed a woman\r
+coming out of a gate close by.\r
+\r
+A crowd gathered round the bloodstained smith.\r
+\r
+"Haven't you robbed people enough--taking their last shirts?" said a\r
+voice addressing the publican. "What have you killed a man for, you\r
+thief?"\r
+\r
+The tall lad, standing in the porch, turned his bleared eyes from the\r
+publican to the smith and back again as if considering whom he ought to\r
+fight now.\r
+\r
+"Murderer!" he shouted suddenly to the publican. "Bind him, lads!"\r
+\r
+"I daresay you would like to bind me!" shouted the publican, pushing\r
+away the men advancing on him, and snatching his cap from his head he\r
+flung it on the ground.\r
+\r
+As if this action had some mysterious and menacing significance, the\r
+workmen surrounding the publican paused in indecision.\r
+\r
+"I know the law very well, mates! I'll take the matter to the captain of\r
+police. You think I won't get to him? Robbery is not permitted to\r
+anybody now a days!" shouted the publican, picking up his cap.\r
+\r
+"Come along then! Come along then!" the publican and the tall young\r
+fellow repeated one after the other, and they moved up the street\r
+together.\r
+\r
+The bloodstained smith went beside them. The factory hands and others\r
+followed behind, talking and shouting.\r
+\r
+At the corner of the Moroseyka, opposite a large house with closed\r
+shutters and bearing a bootmaker's signboard, stood a score of thin,\r
+worn-out, gloomy-faced bootmakers, wearing overalls and long tattered\r
+coats.\r
+\r
+"He should pay folks off properly," a thin workingman, with frowning\r
+brows and a straggly beard, was saying.\r
+\r
+"But he's sucked our blood and now he thinks he's quit of us. He's been\r
+misleading us all the week and now that he's brought us to this pass\r
+he's made off."\r
+\r
+On seeing the crowd and the bloodstained man the workman ceased\r
+speaking, and with eager curiosity all the bootmakers joined the moving\r
+crowd.\r
+\r
+"Where are all the folks going?"\r
+\r
+"Why, to the police, of course!"\r
+\r
+"I say, is it true that we have been beaten?" "And what did you think?\r
+Look what folks are saying."\r
+\r
+Questions and answers were heard. The publican, taking advantage of the\r
+increased crowd, dropped behind and returned to his tavern.\r
+\r
+The tall youth, not noticing the disappearance of his foe, waved his\r
+bare arm and went on talking incessantly, attracting general attention\r
+to himself. It was around him that the people chiefly crowded, expecting\r
+answers from him to the questions that occupied all their minds.\r
+\r
+"He must keep order, keep the law, that's what the government is there\r
+for. Am I not right, good Christians?" said the tall youth, with a\r
+scarcely perceptible smile. "He thinks there's no government! How can\r
+one do without government? Or else there would be plenty who'd rob us."\r
+\r
+"Why talk nonsense?" rejoined voices in the crowd. "Will they give up\r
+Moscow like this? They told you that for fun, and you believed it!\r
+Aren't there plenty of troops on the march? Let him in, indeed! That's\r
+what the government is for. You'd better listen to what people are\r
+saying," said some of the mob pointing to the tall youth.\r
+\r
+By the wall of China-Town a smaller group of people were gathered round\r
+a man in a frieze coat who held a paper in his hand.\r
+\r
+"An ukase, they are reading an ukase! Reading an ukase!" cried voices in\r
+the crowd, and the people rushed toward the reader.\r
+\r
+The man in the frieze coat was reading the broadsheet of August 31. When\r
+the crowd collected round him he seemed confused, but at the demand of\r
+the tall lad who had pushed his way up to him, he began in a rather\r
+tremulous voice to read the sheet from the beginning.\r
+\r
+"Early tomorrow I shall go to his Serene Highness," he read ("Sirin\r
+Highness," said the tall fellow with a triumphant smile on his lips and\r
+a frown on his brow), "to consult with him to act, and to aid the army\r
+to exterminate these scoundrels. We too will take part..." the reader\r
+went on, and then paused ("Do you see," shouted the youth victoriously,\r
+"he's going to clear up the whole affair for you...."), "in destroying\r
+them, and will send these visitors to the devil. I will come back to\r
+dinner, and we'll set to work. We will do, completely do, and undo these\r
+scoundrels."\r
+\r
+The last words were read out in the midst of complete silence. The tall\r
+lad hung his head gloomily. It was evident that no one had understood\r
+the last part. In particular, the words "I will come back to dinner,"\r
+evidently displeased both reader and audience. The people's minds were\r
+tuned to a high pitch and this was too simple and needlessly\r
+comprehensible--it was what any one of them might have said and\r
+therefore was what an ukase emanating from the highest authority should\r
+not say.\r
+\r
+They all stood despondent and silent. The tall youth moved his lips and\r
+swayed from side to side.\r
+\r
+"We should ask him... that's he himself?"... "Yes, ask him indeed!...\r
+Why not? He'll explain"... voices in the rear of the crowd were suddenly\r
+heard saying, and the general attention turned to the police\r
+superintendent's trap which drove into the square attended by two\r
+mounted dragoons.\r
+\r
+The superintendent of police, who had gone that morning by Count\r
+Rostopchin's orders to burn the barges and had in connection with that\r
+matter acquired a large sum of money which was at that moment in his\r
+pocket, on seeing a crowd bearing down upon him told his coachman to\r
+stop.\r
+\r
+"What people are these?" he shouted to the men, who were moving singly\r
+and timidly in the direction of his trap.\r
+\r
+"What people are these?" he shouted again, receiving no answer.\r
+\r
+"Your honor..." replied the shopman in the frieze coat, "your honor, in\r
+accord with the proclamation of his highest excellency the count, they\r
+desire to serve, not sparing their lives, and it is not any kind of\r
+riot, but as his highest excellence said..."\r
+\r
+"The count has not left, he is here, and an order will be issued\r
+concerning you," said the superintendent of police. "Go on!" he ordered\r
+his coachman.\r
+\r
+The crowd halted, pressing around those who had heard what the\r
+superintendent had said, and looking at the departing trap.\r
+\r
+The superintendent of police turned round at that moment with a scared\r
+look, said something to his coachman, and his horses increased their\r
+speed.\r
+\r
+"It's a fraud, lads! Lead the way to him, himself!" shouted the tall\r
+youth. "Don't let him go, lads! Let him answer us! Keep him!" shouted\r
+different people and the people dashed in pursuit of the trap.\r
+\r
+Following the superintendent of police and talking loudly the crowd went\r
+in the direction of the Lubyanka Street.\r
+\r
+"There now, the gentry and merchants have gone away and left us to\r
+perish. Do they think we're dogs?" voices in the crowd were heard saying\r
+more and more frequently.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXIV\r
+\r
+On the evening of the first of September, after his interview with\r
+Kutuzov, Count Rostopchin had returned to Moscow mortified and offended\r
+because he had not been invited to attend the council of war, and\r
+because Kutuzov had paid no attention to his offer to take part in the\r
+defense of the city; amazed also at the novel outlook revealed to him at\r
+the camp, which treated the tranquillity of the capital and its\r
+patriotic fervor as not merely secondary but quite irrelevant and\r
+unimportant matters. Distressed, offended, and surprised by all this,\r
+Rostopchin had returned to Moscow. After supper he lay down on a sofa\r
+without undressing, and was awakened soon after midnight by a courier\r
+bringing him a letter from Kutuzov. This letter requested the count to\r
+send police officers to guide the troops through the town, as the army\r
+was retreating to the Ryazan road beyond Moscow. This was not news to\r
+Rostopchin. He had known that Moscow would be abandoned not merely since\r
+his interview the previous day with Kutuzov on the Poklonny Hill but\r
+ever since the battle of Borodino, for all the generals who came to\r
+Moscow after that battle had said unanimously that it was impossible to\r
+fight another battle, and since then the government property had been\r
+removed every night, and half the inhabitants had left the city with\r
+Rostopchin's own permission. Yet all the same this information\r
+astonished and irritated the count, coming as it did in the form of a\r
+simple note with an order from Kutuzov, and received at night, breaking\r
+in on his beauty sleep.\r
+\r
+When later on in his memoirs Count Rostopchin explained his actions at\r
+this time, he repeatedly says that he was then actuated by two important\r
+considerations: to maintain tranquillity in Moscow and expedite the\r
+departure of the inhabitants. If one accepts this twofold aim all\r
+Rostopchin's actions appear irreproachable. "Why were the holy relics,\r
+the arms, ammunition, gunpowder, and stores of corn not removed? Why\r
+were thousands of inhabitants deceived into believing that Moscow would\r
+not be given up--and thereby ruined?" "To preserve the tranquillity of\r
+the city," explains Count Rostopchin. "Why were bundles of useless\r
+papers from the government offices, and Leppich's balloon and other\r
+articles removed?" "To leave the town empty," explains Count Rostopchin.\r
+One need only admit that public tranquillity is in danger and any action\r
+finds a justification.\r
+\r
+All the horrors of the reign of terror were based only on solicitude for\r
+public tranquillity.\r
+\r
+On what, then, was Count Rostopchin's fear for the tranquillity of\r
+Moscow based in 1812? What reason was there for assuming any probability\r
+of an uprising in the city? The inhabitants were leaving it and the\r
+retreating troops were filling it. Why should that cause the masses to\r
+riot?\r
+\r
+Neither in Moscow nor anywhere in Russia did anything resembling an\r
+insurrection ever occur when the enemy entered a town. More than ten\r
+thousand people were still in Moscow on the first and second of\r
+September, and except for a mob in the governor's courtyard, assembled\r
+there at his bidding, nothing happened. It is obvious that there would\r
+have been even less reason to expect a disturbance among the people if\r
+after the battle of Borodino, when the surrender of Moscow became\r
+certain or at least probable, Rostopchin instead of exciting the people\r
+by distributing arms and broadsheets had taken steps to remove all the\r
+holy relics, the gunpowder, munitions, and money, and had told the\r
+population plainly that the town would be abandoned.\r
+\r
+Rostopchin, though he had patriotic sentiments, was a sanguine and\r
+impulsive man who had always moved in the highest administrative circles\r
+and had no understanding at all of the people he supposed himself to be\r
+guiding. Ever since the enemy's entry into Smolensk he had in\r
+imagination been playing the role of director of the popular feeling of\r
+"the heart of Russia." Not only did it seem to him (as to all\r
+administrators) that he controlled the external actions of Moscow's\r
+inhabitants, but he also thought he controlled their mental attitude by\r
+means of his broadsheets and posters, written in a coarse tone which the\r
+people despise in their own class and do not understand from those in\r
+authority. Rostopchin was so pleased with the fine role of leader of\r
+popular feeling, and had grown so used to it, that the necessity of\r
+relinquishing that role and abandoning Moscow without any heroic display\r
+took him unawares and he suddenly felt the ground slip away from under\r
+his feet, so that he positively did not know what to do. Though he knew\r
+it was coming, he did not till the last moment wholeheartedly believe\r
+that Moscow would be abandoned, and did not prepare for it. The\r
+inhabitants left against his wishes. If the government offices were\r
+removed, this was only done on the demand of officials to whom the count\r
+yielded reluctantly. He was absorbed in the role he had created for\r
+himself. As is often the case with those gifted with an ardent\r
+imagination, though he had long known that Moscow would be abandoned he\r
+knew it only with his intellect, he did not believe it in his heart and\r
+did not adapt himself mentally to this new position of affairs.\r
+\r
+All his painstaking and energetic activity (in how far it was useful and\r
+had any effect on the people is another question) had been simply\r
+directed toward arousing in the masses his own feeling of patriotic\r
+hatred of the French.\r
+\r
+But when events assumed their true historical character, when expressing\r
+hatred for the French in words proved insufficient, when it was not even\r
+possible to express that hatred by fighting a battle, when self-\r
+confidence was of no avail in relation to the one question before\r
+Moscow, when the whole population streamed out of Moscow as one man,\r
+abandoning their belongings and proving by that negative action all the\r
+depth of their national feeling, then the role chosen by Rostopchin\r
+suddenly appeared senseless. He unexpectedly felt himself ridiculous,\r
+weak, and alone, with no ground to stand on.\r
+\r
+When, awakened from his sleep, he received that cold, peremptory note\r
+from Kutuzov, he felt the more irritated the more he felt himself to\r
+blame. All that he had been specially put in charge of, the state\r
+property which he should have removed, was still in Moscow and it was no\r
+longer possible to take the whole of it away.\r
+\r
+"Who is to blame for it? Who has let things come to such a pass?" he\r
+ruminated. "Not I, of course. I had everything ready. I had Moscow\r
+firmly in hand. And this is what they have let it come to! Villains!\r
+Traitors!" he thought, without clearly defining who the villains and\r
+traitors were, but feeling it necessary to hate those traitors whoever\r
+they might be who were to blame for the false and ridiculous position in\r
+which he found himself.\r
+\r
+All that night Count Rostopchin issued orders, for which people came to\r
+him from all parts of Moscow. Those about him had never seen the count\r
+so morose and irritable.\r
+\r
+"Your excellency, the Director of the Registrar's Department has sent\r
+for instructions... From the Consistory, from the Senate, from the\r
+University, from the Foundling Hospital, the Suffragan has sent...\r
+asking for information.... What are your orders about the Fire Brigade?\r
+From the governor of the prison... from the superintendent of the\r
+lunatic asylum..." All night long such announcements were continually\r
+being received by the count.\r
+\r
+To all these inquiries he gave brief and angry replies indicating that\r
+orders from him were not now needed, that the whole affair, carefully\r
+prepared by him, had now been ruined by somebody, and that that somebody\r
+would have to bear the whole responsibility for all that might happen.\r
+\r
+"Oh, tell that blockhead," he said in reply to the question from the\r
+Registrar's Department, "that he should remain to guard his documents.\r
+Now why are you asking silly questions about the Fire Brigade? They have\r
+horses, let them be off to Vladimir, and not leave them to the French."\r
+\r
+"Your excellency, the superintendent of the lunatic asylum has come:\r
+what are your commands?"\r
+\r
+"My commands? Let them go away, that's all.... And let the lunatics out\r
+into the town. When lunatics command our armies God evidently means\r
+these other madmen to be free."\r
+\r
+In reply to an inquiry about the convicts in the prison, Count\r
+Rostopchin shouted angrily at the governor:\r
+\r
+"Do you expect me to give you two battalions--which we have not got--for\r
+a convoy? Release them, that's all about it!"\r
+\r
+"Your excellency, there are some political prisoners, Meshkov,\r
+Vereshchagin..."\r
+\r
+"Vereshchagin! Hasn't he been hanged yet?" shouted Rostopchin. "Bring\r
+him to me!"\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXV\r
+\r
+Toward nine o'clock in the morning, when the troops were already moving\r
+through Moscow, nobody came to the count any more for instructions.\r
+Those who were able to get away were going of their own accord, those\r
+who remained behind decided for themselves what they must do.\r
+\r
+The count ordered his carriage that he might drive to Sokolniki, and sat\r
+in his study with folded hands, morose, sallow, and taciturn.\r
+\r
+In quiet and untroubled times it seems to every administrator that it is\r
+only by his efforts that the whole population under his rule is kept\r
+going, and in this consciousness of being indispensable every\r
+administrator finds the chief reward of his labor and efforts. While the\r
+sea of history remains calm the ruler-administrator in his frail bark,\r
+holding on with a boat hook to the ship of the people and himself\r
+moving, naturally imagines that his efforts move the ship he is holding\r
+on to. But as soon as a storm arises and the sea begins to heave and the\r
+ship to move, such a delusion is no longer possible. The ship moves\r
+independently with its own enormous motion, the boat hook no longer\r
+reaches the moving vessel, and suddenly the administrator, instead of\r
+appearing a ruler and a source of power, becomes an insignificant,\r
+useless, feeble man.\r
+\r
+Rostopchin felt this, and it was this which exasperated him.\r
+\r
+The superintendent of police, whom the crowd had stopped, went in to see\r
+him at the same time as an adjutant who informed the count that the\r
+horses were harnessed. They were both pale, and the superintendent of\r
+police, after reporting that he had executed the instructions he had\r
+received, informed the count that an immense crowd had collected in the\r
+courtyard and wished to see him.\r
+\r
+Without saying a word Rostopchin rose and walked hastily to his light,\r
+luxurious drawing room, went to the balcony door, took hold of the\r
+handle, let it go again, and went to the window from which he had a\r
+better view of the whole crowd. The tall lad was standing in front,\r
+flourishing his arm and saying something with a stern look. The blood-\r
+stained smith stood beside him with a gloomy face. A drone of voices was\r
+audible through the closed window.\r
+\r
+"Is my carriage ready?" asked Rostopchin, stepping back from the window.\r
+\r
+"It is, your excellency," replied the adjutant.\r
+\r
+Rostopchin went again to the balcony door.\r
+\r
+"But what do they want?" he asked the superintendent of police.\r
+\r
+"Your excellency, they say they have got ready, according to your\r
+orders, to go against the French, and they shouted something about\r
+treachery. But it is a turbulent crowd, your excellency--I hardly\r
+managed to get away from it. Your excellency, I venture to suggest..."\r
+\r
+"You may go. I don't need you to tell me what to do!" exclaimed\r
+Rostopchin angrily.\r
+\r
+He stood by the balcony door looking at the crowd.\r
+\r
+"This is what they have done with Russia! This is what they have done\r
+with me!" thought he, full of an irrepressible fury that welled up\r
+within him against the someone to whom what was happening might be\r
+attributed. As often happens with passionate people, he was mastered by\r
+anger but was still seeking an object on which to vent it. "Here is that\r
+mob, the dregs of the people," he thought as he gazed at the crowd:\r
+"this rabble they have roused by their folly! They want a victim," he\r
+thought as he looked at the tall lad flourishing his arm. And this\r
+thought occurred to him just because he himself desired a victim,\r
+something on which to vent his rage.\r
+\r
+"Is the carriage ready?" he asked again.\r
+\r
+"Yes, your excellency. What are your orders about Vereshchagin? He is\r
+waiting at the porch," said the adjutant.\r
+\r
+"Ah!" exclaimed Rostopchin, as if struck by an unexpected recollection.\r
+\r
+And rapidly opening the door he went resolutely out onto the balcony.\r
+The talking instantly ceased, hats and caps were doffed, and all eyes\r
+were raised to the count.\r
+\r
+"Good morning, lads!" said the count briskly and loudly. "Thank you for\r
+coming. I'll come out to you in a moment, but we must first settle with\r
+the villain. We must punish the villain who has caused the ruin of\r
+Moscow. Wait for me!"\r
+\r
+And the count stepped as briskly back into the room and slammed the door\r
+behind him.\r
+\r
+A murmur of approbation and satisfaction ran through the crowd. "He'll\r
+settle with all the villains, you'll see! And you said the French...\r
+He'll show you what law is!" the mob were saying as if reproving one\r
+another for their lack of confidence.\r
+\r
+A few minutes later an officer came hurriedly out of the front door,\r
+gave an order, and the dragoons formed up in line. The crowd moved\r
+eagerly from the balcony toward the porch. Rostopchin, coming out there\r
+with quick angry steps, looked hastily around as if seeking someone.\r
+\r
+"Where is he?" he inquired. And as he spoke he saw a young man coming\r
+round the corner of the house between two dragoons. He had a long thin\r
+neck, and his head, that had been half shaved, was again covered by\r
+short hair. This young man was dressed in a threadbare blue cloth coat\r
+lined with fox fur, that had once been smart, and dirty hempen convict\r
+trousers, over which were pulled his thin, dirty, trodden-down boots. On\r
+his thin, weak legs were heavy chains which hampered his irresolute\r
+movements.\r
+\r
+"Ah!" said Rostopchin, hurriedly turning away his eyes from the young\r
+man in the fur-lined coat and pointing to the bottom step of the porch.\r
+"Put him there."\r
+\r
+The young man in his clattering chains stepped clumsily to the spot\r
+indicated, holding away with one finger the coat collar which chafed his\r
+neck, turned his long neck twice this way and that, sighed, and\r
+submissively folded before him his thin hands, unused to work.\r
+\r
+For several seconds while the young man was taking his place on the step\r
+the silence continued. Only among the back rows of the people, who were\r
+all pressing toward the one spot, could sighs, groans, and the shuffling\r
+of feet be heard.\r
+\r
+While waiting for the young man to take his place on the step Rostopchin\r
+stood frowning and rubbing his face with his hand.\r
+\r
+"Lads!" said he, with a metallic ring in his voice. "This man,\r
+Vereshchagin, is the scoundrel by whose doing Moscow is perishing."\r
+\r
+The young man in the fur-lined coat, stooping a little, stood in a\r
+submissive attitude, his fingers clasped before him. His emaciated young\r
+face, disfigured by the half-shaven head, hung down hopelessly. At the\r
+count's first words he raised it slowly and looked up at him as if\r
+wishing to say something or at least to meet his eye. But Rostopchin did\r
+not look at him. A vein in the young man's long thin neck swelled like a\r
+cord and went blue behind the ear, and suddenly his face flushed.\r
+\r
+All eyes were fixed on him. He looked at the crowd, and rendered more\r
+hopeful by the expression he read on the faces there, he smiled sadly\r
+and timidly, and lowering his head shifted his feet on the step.\r
+\r
+"He has betrayed his Tsar and his country, he has gone over to\r
+Bonaparte. He alone of all the Russians has disgraced the Russian name,\r
+he has caused Moscow to perish," said Rostopchin in a sharp, even voice,\r
+but suddenly he glanced down at Vereshchagin who continued to stand in\r
+the same submissive attitude. As if inflamed by the sight, he raised his\r
+arm and addressed the people, almost shouting:\r
+\r
+"Deal with him as you think fit! I hand him over to you."\r
+\r
+The crowd remained silent and only pressed closer and closer to one\r
+another. To keep one another back, to breathe in that stifling\r
+atmosphere, to be unable to stir, and to await something unknown,\r
+uncomprehended, and terrible, was becoming unbearable. Those standing in\r
+front, who had seen and heard what had taken place before them, all\r
+stood with wide-open eyes and mouths, straining with all their strength,\r
+and held back the crowd that was pushing behind them.\r
+\r
+"Beat him!... Let the traitor perish and not disgrace the Russian name!"\r
+shouted Rostopchin. "Cut him down. I command it."\r
+\r
+Hearing not so much the words as the angry tone of Rostopchin's voice,\r
+the crowd moaned and heaved forward, but again paused.\r
+\r
+"Count!" exclaimed the timid yet theatrical voice of Vereshchagin in the\r
+midst of the momentary silence that ensued, "Count! One God is above us\r
+both...." He lifted his head and again the thick vein in his thin neck\r
+filled with blood and the color rapidly came and went in his face.\r
+\r
+He did not finish what he wished to say.\r
+\r
+"Cut him down! I command it..." shouted Rostopchin, suddenly growing\r
+pale like Vereshchagin.\r
+\r
+"Draw sabers!" cried the dragoon officer, drawing his own.\r
+\r
+Another still stronger wave flowed through the crowd and reaching the\r
+front ranks carried it swaying to the very steps of the porch. The tall\r
+youth, with a stony look on his face, and rigid and uplifted arm, stood\r
+beside Vereshchagin.\r
+\r
+"Saber him!" the dragoon officer almost whispered.\r
+\r
+And one of the soldiers, his face all at once distorted with fury,\r
+struck Vereshchagin on the head with the blunt side of his saber.\r
+\r
+"Ah!" cried Vereshchagin in meek surprise, looking round with a\r
+frightened glance as if not understanding why this was done to him. A\r
+similar moan of surprise and horror ran through the crowd. "O Lord!"\r
+exclaimed a sorrowful voice.\r
+\r
+But after the exclamation of surprise that had escaped from Vereshchagin\r
+he uttered a plaintive cry of pain, and that cry was fatal. The barrier\r
+of human feeling, strained to the utmost, that had held the crowd in\r
+check suddenly broke. The crime had begun and must now be completed. The\r
+plaintive moan of reproach was drowned by the threatening and angry roar\r
+of the crowd. Like the seventh and last wave that shatters a ship, that\r
+last irresistible wave burst from the rear and reached the front ranks,\r
+carrying them off their feet and engulfing them all. The dragoon was\r
+about to repeat his blow. Vereshchagin with a cry of horror, covering\r
+his head with his hands, rushed toward the crowd. The tall youth,\r
+against whom he stumbled, seized his thin neck with his hands and,\r
+yelling wildly, fell with him under the feet of the pressing, struggling\r
+crowd.\r
+\r
+Some beat and tore at Vereshchagin, others at the tall youth. And the\r
+screams of those that were being trampled on and of those who tried to\r
+rescue the tall lad only increased the fury of the crowd. It was a long\r
+time before the dragoons could extricate the bleeding youth, beaten\r
+almost to death. And for a long time, despite the feverish haste with\r
+which the mob tried to end the work that had been begun, those who were\r
+hitting, throttling, and tearing at Vereshchagin were unable to kill\r
+him, for the crowd pressed from all sides, swaying as one mass with them\r
+in the center and rendering it impossible for them either to kill him or\r
+let him go.\r
+\r
+"Hit him with an ax, eh!... Crushed?... Traitor, he sold Christ....\r
+Still alive... tenacious... serves him right! Torture serves a thief\r
+right. Use the hatchet!... What--still alive?"\r
+\r
+Only when the victim ceased to struggle and his cries changed to a long-\r
+drawn, measured death rattle did the crowd around his prostrate,\r
+bleeding corpse begin rapidly to change places. Each one came up,\r
+glanced at what had been done, and with horror, reproach, and\r
+astonishment pushed back again.\r
+\r
+"O Lord! The people are like wild beasts! How could he be alive?" voices\r
+in the crowd could be heard saying. "Quite a young fellow too... must\r
+have been a merchant's son. What men!... and they say he's not the right\r
+one.... How not the right one?... O Lord! And there's another has been\r
+beaten too--they say he's nearly done for.... Oh, the people... Aren't\r
+they afraid of sinning?..." said the same mob now, looking with pained\r
+distress at the dead body with its long, thin, half-severed neck and its\r
+livid face stained with blood and dust.\r
+\r
+A painstaking police officer, considering the presence of a corpse in\r
+his excellency's courtyard unseemly, told the dragoons to take it away.\r
+Two dragoons took it by its distorted legs and dragged it along the\r
+ground. The gory, dust-stained, half-shaven head with its long neck\r
+trailed twisting along the ground. The crowd shrank back from it.\r
+\r
+At the moment when Vereshchagin fell and the crowd closed in with savage\r
+yells and swayed about him, Rostopchin suddenly turned pale and, instead\r
+of going to the back entrance where his carriage awaited him, went with\r
+hurried steps and bent head, not knowing where and why, along the\r
+passage leading to the rooms on the ground floor. The count's face was\r
+white and he could not control the feverish twitching of his lower jaw.\r
+\r
+"This way, your excellency... Where are you going?... This way,\r
+please..." said a trembling, frightened voice behind him.\r
+\r
+Count Rostopchin was unable to reply and, turning obediently, went in\r
+the direction indicated. At the back entrance stood his caleche. The\r
+distant roar of the yelling crowd was audible even there. He hastily\r
+took his seat and told the coachman to drive him to his country house in\r
+Sokolniki.\r
+\r
+When they reached the Myasnitski Street and could no longer hear the\r
+shouts of the mob, the count began to repent. He remembered with\r
+dissatisfaction the agitation and fear he had betrayed before his\r
+subordinates. "The mob is terrible--disgusting," he said to himself in\r
+French. "They are like wolves whom nothing but flesh can appease."\r
+"Count! One God is above us both!"--Vereshchagin's words suddenly\r
+recurred to him, and a disagreeable shiver ran down his back. But this\r
+was only a momentary feeling and Count Rostopchin smiled disdainfully at\r
+himself. "I had other duties," thought he. "The people had to be\r
+appeased. Many other victims have perished and are perishing for the\r
+public good"--and he began thinking of his social duties to his family\r
+and to the city entrusted to him, and of himself--not himself as\r
+Theodore Vasilyevich Rostopchin (he fancied that Theodore Vasilyevich\r
+Rostopchin was sacrificing himself for the public good) but himself as\r
+governor, the representative of authority and of the Tsar. "Had I been\r
+simply Theodore Vasilyevich my course of action would have been quite\r
+different, but it was my duty to safeguard my life and dignity as\r
+commander-in-chief."\r
+\r
+Lightly swaying on the flexible springs of his carriage and no longer\r
+hearing the terrible sounds of the crowd, Rostopchin grew physically\r
+calm and, as always happens, as soon as he became physically tranquil\r
+his mind devised reasons why he should be mentally tranquil too. The\r
+thought which tranquillized Rostopchin was not a new one. Since the\r
+world began and men have killed one another no one has ever committed\r
+such a crime against his fellow man without comforting himself with this\r
+same idea. This idea is le bien public, the hypothetical welfare of\r
+other people.\r
+\r
+To a man not swayed by passion that welfare is never certain, but he who\r
+commits such a crime always knows just where that welfare lies. And\r
+Rostopchin now knew it.\r
+\r
+Not only did his reason not reproach him for what he had done, but he\r
+even found cause for self-satisfaction in having so successfully\r
+contrived to avail himself of a convenient opportunity to punish a\r
+criminal and at the same time pacify the mob.\r
+\r
+"Vereshchagin was tried and condemned to death," thought Rostopchin\r
+(though the Senate had only condemned Vereshchagin to hard labor), "he\r
+was a traitor and a spy. I could not let him go unpunished and so I have\r
+killed two birds with one stone: to appease the mob I gave them a victim\r
+and at the same time punished a miscreant."\r
+\r
+Having reached his country house and begun to give orders about domestic\r
+arrangements, the count grew quite tranquil.\r
+\r
+Half an hour later he was driving with his fast horses across the\r
+Sokolniki field, no longer thinking of what had occurred but considering\r
+what was to come. He was driving to the Yauza bridge where he had heard\r
+that Kutuzov was. Count Rostopchin was mentally preparing the angry and\r
+stinging reproaches he meant to address to Kutuzov for his deception. He\r
+would make that foxy old courtier feel that the responsibility for all\r
+the calamities that would follow the abandonment of the city and the\r
+ruin of Russia (as Rostopchin regarded it) would fall upon his doting\r
+old head. Planning beforehand what he would say to Kutuzov, Rostopchin\r
+turned angrily in his caleche and gazed sternly from side to side.\r
+\r
+The Sokolniki field was deserted. Only at the end of it, in front of the\r
+almshouse and the lunatic asylum, could be seen some people in white and\r
+others like them walking singly across the field shouting and\r
+gesticulating.\r
+\r
+One of these was running to cross the path of Count Rostopchin's\r
+carriage, and the count himself, his coachman, and his dragoons looked\r
+with vague horror and curiosity at these released lunatics and\r
+especially at the one running toward them.\r
+\r
+Swaying from side to side on his long, thin legs in his fluttering\r
+dressing gown, this lunatic was running impetuously, his gaze fixed on\r
+Rostopchin, shouting something in a hoarse voice and making signs to him\r
+to stop. The lunatic's solemn, gloomy face was thin and yellow, with its\r
+beard growing in uneven tufts. His black, agate pupils with saffron-\r
+yellow whites moved restlessly near the lower eyelids.\r
+\r
+"Stop! Pull up, I tell you!" he cried in a piercing voice, and again\r
+shouted something breathlessly with emphatic intonations and gestures.\r
+\r
+Coming abreast of the caleche he ran beside it.\r
+\r
+"Thrice have they slain me, thrice have I risen from the dead. They\r
+stoned me, crucified me... I shall rise... shall rise... shall rise.\r
+They have torn my body. The kingdom of God will be overthrown... Thrice\r
+will I overthrow it and thrice re-establish it!" he cried, raising his\r
+voice higher and higher.\r
+\r
+Count Rostopchin suddenly grew pale as he had done when the crowd closed\r
+in on Vereshchagin. He turned away. "Go fas... faster!" he cried in a\r
+trembling voice to his coachman. The caleche flew over the ground as\r
+fast as the horses could draw it, but for a long time Count Rostopchin\r
+still heard the insane despairing screams growing fainter in the\r
+distance, while his eyes saw nothing but the astonished, frightened,\r
+bloodstained face of "the traitor" in the fur-lined coat.\r
+\r
+Recent as that mental picture was, Rostopchin already felt that it had\r
+cut deep into his heart and drawn blood. Even now he felt clearly that\r
+the gory trace of that recollection would not pass with time, but that\r
+the terrible memory would, on the contrary, dwell in his heart ever more\r
+cruelly and painfully to the end of his life. He seemed still to hear\r
+the sound of his own words: "Cut him down! I command it...."\r
+\r
+"Why did I utter those words? It was by some accident I said them.... I\r
+need not have said them," he thought. "And then nothing would have\r
+happened." He saw the frightened and then infuriated face of the dragoon\r
+who dealt the blow, the look of silent, timid reproach that boy in the\r
+fur-lined coat had turned upon him. "But I did not do it for my own\r
+sake. I was bound to act that way.... The mob, the traitor... the public\r
+welfare," thought he.\r
+\r
+Troops were still crowding at the Yauza bridge. It was hot. Kutuzov,\r
+dejected and frowning, sat on a bench by the bridge toying with his whip\r
+in the sand when a caleche dashed up noisily. A man in a general's\r
+uniform with plumes in his hat went up to Kutuzov and said something in\r
+French. It was Count Rostopchin. He told Kutuzov that he had come\r
+because Moscow, the capital, was no more and only the army remained.\r
+\r
+"Things would have been different if your Serene Highness had not told\r
+me that you would not abandon Moscow without another battle; all this\r
+would not have happened," he said.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov looked at Rostopchin as if, not grasping what was said to him,\r
+he was trying to read something peculiar written at that moment on the\r
+face of the man addressing him. Rostopchin grew confused and became\r
+silent. Kutuzov slightly shook his head and not taking his penetrating\r
+gaze from Rostopchin's face muttered softly:\r
+\r
+"No! I shall not give up Moscow without a battle!"\r
+\r
+Whether Kutuzov was thinking of something entirely different when he\r
+spoke those words, or uttered them purposely, knowing them to be\r
+meaningless, at any rate Rostopchin made no reply and hastily left him.\r
+And strange to say, the Governor of Moscow, the proud Count Rostopchin,\r
+took up a Cossack whip and went to the bridge where he began with shouts\r
+to drive on the carts that blocked the way.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXVI\r
+\r
+Toward four o'clock in the afternoon Murat's troops were entering\r
+Moscow. In front rode a detachment of Wurttemberg hussars and behind\r
+them rode the King of Naples himself accompanied by a numerous suite.\r
+\r
+About the middle of the Arbat Street, near the Church of the Miraculous\r
+Icon of St. Nicholas, Murat halted to await news from the advanced\r
+detachment as to the condition in which they had found the citadel, le\r
+Kremlin.\r
+\r
+Around Murat gathered a group of those who had remained in Moscow. They\r
+all stared in timid bewilderment at the strange, long-haired commander\r
+dressed up in feathers and gold.\r
+\r
+"Is that their Tsar himself? He's not bad!" low voices could be heard\r
+saying.\r
+\r
+An interpreter rode up to the group.\r
+\r
+"Take off your cap... your caps!" These words went from one to another\r
+in the crowd. The interpreter addressed an old porter and asked if it\r
+was far to the Kremlin. The porter, listening in perplexity to the\r
+unfamiliar Polish accent and not realizing that the interpreter was\r
+speaking Russian, did not understand what was being said to him and\r
+slipped behind the others.\r
+\r
+Murat approached the interpreter and told him to ask where the Russian\r
+army was. One of the Russians understood what was asked and several\r
+voices at once began answering the interpreter. A French officer,\r
+returning from the advanced detachment, rode up to Murat and reported\r
+that the gates of the citadel had been barricaded and that there was\r
+probably an ambuscade there.\r
+\r
+"Good!" said Murat and, turning to one of the gentlemen in his suite,\r
+ordered four light guns to be moved forward to fire at the gates.\r
+\r
+The guns emerged at a trot from the column following Murat and advanced\r
+up the Arbat. When they reached the end of the Vozdvizhenka Street they\r
+halted and drew in the Square. Several French officers superintended the\r
+placing of the guns and looked at the Kremlin through field glasses.\r
+\r
+The bells in the Kremlin were ringing for vespers, and this sound\r
+troubled the French. They imagined it to be a call to arms. A few\r
+infantrymen ran to the Kutafyev Gate. Beams and wooden screens had been\r
+put there, and two musket shots rang out from under the gate as soon as\r
+an officer and men began to run toward it. A general who was standing by\r
+the guns shouted some words of command to the officer, and the latter\r
+ran back again with his men.\r
+\r
+The sound of three more shots came from the gate.\r
+\r
+One shot struck a French soldier's foot, and from behind the screens\r
+came the strange sound of a few voices shouting. Instantly as at a word\r
+of command the expression of cheerful serenity on the faces of the\r
+French general, officers, and men changed to one of determined\r
+concentrated readiness for strife and suffering. To all of them from the\r
+marshal to the least soldier, that place was not the Vozdvizhenka,\r
+Mokhavaya, or Kutafyev Street, nor the Troitsa Gate (places familiar in\r
+Moscow), but a new battlefield which would probably prove sanguinary.\r
+And all made ready for that battle. The cries from the gates ceased. The\r
+guns were advanced, the artillerymen blew the ash off their linstocks,\r
+and an officer gave the word "Fire!" This was followed by two whistling\r
+sounds of canister shot, one after another. The shot rattled against the\r
+stone of the gate and upon the wooden beams and screens, and two\r
+wavering clouds of smoke rose over the Square.\r
+\r
+A few instants after the echo of the reports resounding over the stone-\r
+built Kremlin had died away the French heard a strange sound above their\r
+head. Thousands of crows rose above the walls and circled in the air,\r
+cawing and noisily flapping their wings. Together with that sound came a\r
+solitary human cry from the gateway and amid the smoke appeared the\r
+figure of a bareheaded man in a peasant's coat. He grasped a musket and\r
+took aim at the French. "Fire!" repeated the officer once more, and the\r
+reports of a musket and of two cannon shots were heard simultaneously.\r
+The gate was again hidden by smoke.\r
+\r
+Nothing more stirred behind the screens and the French infantry soldiers\r
+and officers advanced to the gate. In the gateway lay three wounded and\r
+four dead. Two men in peasant coats ran away at the foot of the wall,\r
+toward the Znamenka.\r
+\r
+"Clear that away!" said the officer, pointing to the beams and the\r
+corpses, and the French soldiers, after dispatching the wounded, threw\r
+the corpses over the parapet.\r
+\r
+Who these men were nobody knew. "Clear that away!" was all that was said\r
+of them, and they were thrown over the parapet and removed later on that\r
+they might not stink. Thiers alone dedicates a few eloquent lines to\r
+their memory: "These wretches had occupied the sacred citadel, having\r
+supplied themselves with guns from the arsenal, and fired" (the\r
+wretches) "at the French. Some of them were sabered and the Kremlin was\r
+purged of their presence."\r
+\r
+Murat was informed that the way had been cleared. The French entered the\r
+gates and began pitching their camp in the Senate Square. Out of the\r
+windows of the Senate House the soldiers threw chairs into the Square\r
+for fuel and kindled fires there.\r
+\r
+Other detachments passed through the Kremlin and encamped along the\r
+Moroseyka, the Lubyanka, and Pokrovka Streets. Others quartered\r
+themselves along the Vozdvizhenka, the Nikolski, and the Tverskoy\r
+Streets. No masters of the houses being found anywhere, the French were\r
+not billeted on the inhabitants as is usual in towns but lived in it as\r
+in a camp.\r
+\r
+Though tattered, hungry, worn out, and reduced to a third of their\r
+original number, the French entered Moscow in good marching order. It\r
+was a weary and famished, but still a fighting and menacing army. But it\r
+remained an army only until its soldiers had dispersed into their\r
+different lodgings. As soon as the men of the various regiments began to\r
+disperse among the wealthy and deserted houses, the army was lost\r
+forever and there came into being something nondescript, neither\r
+citizens nor soldiers but what are known as marauders. When five weeks\r
+later these same men left Moscow, they no longer formed an army. They\r
+were a mob of marauders, each carrying a quantity of articles which\r
+seemed to him valuable or useful. The aim of each man when he left\r
+Moscow was no longer, as it had been, to conquer, but merely to keep\r
+what he had acquired. Like a monkey which puts its paw into the narrow\r
+neck of a jug, and having seized a handful of nuts will not open its\r
+fist for fear of losing what it holds, and therefore perishes, the\r
+French when they left Moscow had inevitably to perish because they\r
+carried their loot with them, yet to abandon what they had stolen was as\r
+impossible for them as it is for the monkey to open its paw and let go\r
+of its nuts. Ten minutes after each regiment had entered a Moscow\r
+district, not a soldier or officer was left. Men in military uniforms\r
+and Hessian boots could be seen through the windows, laughing and\r
+walking through the rooms. In cellars and storerooms similar men were\r
+busy among the provisions, and in the yards unlocking or breaking open\r
+coach house and stable doors, lighting fires in kitchens and kneading\r
+and baking bread with rolled-up sleeves, and cooking; or frightening,\r
+amusing, or caressing women and children. There were many such men both\r
+in the shops and houses--but there was no army.\r
+\r
+Order after order was issued by the French commanders that day\r
+forbidding the men to disperse about the town, sternly forbidding any\r
+violence to the inhabitants or any looting, and announcing a roll call\r
+for that very evening. But despite all these measures the men, who had\r
+till then constituted an army, flowed all over the wealthy, deserted\r
+city with its comforts and plentiful supplies. As a hungry herd of\r
+cattle keeps well together when crossing a barren field, but gets out of\r
+hand and at once disperses uncontrollably as soon as it reaches rich\r
+pastures, so did the army disperse all over the wealthy city.\r
+\r
+No residents were left in Moscow, and the soldiers--like water\r
+percolating through sand--spread irresistibly through the city in all\r
+directions from the Kremlin into which they had first marched. The\r
+cavalry, on entering a merchant's house that had been abandoned and\r
+finding there stabling more than sufficient for their horses, went on,\r
+all the same, to the next house which seemed to them better. Many of\r
+them appropriated several houses, chalked their names on them, and\r
+quarreled and even fought with other companies for them. Before they had\r
+had time to secure quarters the soldiers ran out into the streets to see\r
+the city and, hearing that everything had been abandoned, rushed to\r
+places where valuables were to be had for the taking. The officers\r
+followed to check the soldiers and were involuntarily drawn into doing\r
+the same. In Carriage Row carriages had been left in the shops, and\r
+generals flocked there to select caleches and coaches for themselves.\r
+The few inhabitants who had remained invited commanding officers to\r
+their houses, hoping thereby to secure themselves from being plundered.\r
+There were masses of wealth and there seemed no end to it. All around\r
+the quarters occupied by the French were other regions still unexplored\r
+and unoccupied where, they thought, yet greater riches might be found.\r
+And Moscow engulfed the army ever deeper and deeper. When water is\r
+spilled on dry ground both the dry ground and the water disappear and\r
+mud results; and in the same way the entry of the famished army into the\r
+rich and deserted city resulted in fires and looting and the destruction\r
+of both the army and the wealthy city.\r
+\r
+The French attributed the Fire of Moscow au patriotisme feroce de\r
+Rostopchine, * the Russians to the barbarity of the French. In reality,\r
+however, it was not, and could not be, possible to explain the burning\r
+of Moscow by making any individual, or any group of people, responsible\r
+for it. Moscow was burned because it found itself in a position in which\r
+any town built of wood was bound to burn, quite apart from whether it\r
+had, or had not, a hundred and thirty inferior fire engines. Deserted\r
+Moscow had to burn as inevitably as a heap of shavings has to burn on\r
+which sparks continually fall for several days. A town built of wood,\r
+where scarcely a day passes without conflagrations when the house owners\r
+are in residence and a police force is present, cannot help burning when\r
+its inhabitants have left it and it is occupied by soldiers who smoke\r
+pipes, make campfires of the Senate chairs in the Senate Square, and\r
+cook themselves meals twice a day. In peacetime it is only necessary to\r
+billet troops in the villages of any district and the number of fires in\r
+that district immediately increases. How much then must the probability\r
+of fire be increased in an abandoned, wooden town where foreign troops\r
+are quartered. "Le patriotisme feroce de Rostopchine" and the barbarity\r
+of the French were not to blame in the matter. Moscow was set on fire by\r
+the soldiers' pipes, kitchens, and campfires, and by the carelessness of\r
+enemy soldiers occupying houses they did not own. Even if there was any\r
+arson (which is very doubtful, for no one had any reason to burn the\r
+houses--in any case a troublesome and dangerous thing to do), arson\r
+cannot be regarded as the cause, for the same thing would have happened\r
+without any incendiarism.\r
+\r
+\r
+* To Rostopchin's ferocious patriotism.\r
+\r
+However tempting it might be for the French to blame Rostopchin's\r
+ferocity and for Russians to blame the scoundrel Bonaparte, or later on\r
+to place an heroic torch in the hands of their own people, it is\r
+impossible not to see that there could be no such direct cause of the\r
+fire, for Moscow had to burn as every village, factory, or house must\r
+burn which is left by its owners and in which strangers are allowed to\r
+live and cook their porridge. Moscow was burned by its inhabitants, it\r
+is true, but by those who had abandoned it and not by those who remained\r
+in it. Moscow when occupied by the enemy did not remain intact like\r
+Berlin, Vienna, and other towns, simply because its inhabitants\r
+abandoned it and did not welcome the French with bread and salt, nor\r
+bring them the keys of the city.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXVII\r
+\r
+The absorption of the French by Moscow, radiating starwise as it did,\r
+only reached the quarter where Pierre was staying by the evening of the\r
+second of September.\r
+\r
+After the last two days spent in solitude and unusual circumstances,\r
+Pierre was in a state bordering on insanity. He was completely obsessed\r
+by one persistent thought. He did not know how or when this thought had\r
+taken such possession of him, but he remembered nothing of the past,\r
+understood nothing of the present, and all he saw and heard appeared to\r
+him like a dream.\r
+\r
+He had left home only to escape the intricate tangle of life's demands\r
+that enmeshed him, and which in his present condition he was unable to\r
+unravel. He had gone to Joseph Alexeevich's house, on the plea of\r
+sorting the deceased's books and papers, only in search of rest from\r
+life's turmoil, for in his mind the memory of Joseph Alexeevich was\r
+connected with a world of eternal, solemn, and calm thoughts, quite\r
+contrary to the restless confusion into which he felt himself being\r
+drawn. He sought a quiet refuge, and in Joseph Alexeevich's study he\r
+really found it. When he sat with his elbows on the dusty writing table\r
+in the deathlike stillness of the study, calm and significant memories\r
+of the last few days rose one after another in his imagination,\r
+particularly of the battle of Borodino and of that vague sense of his\r
+own insignificance and insincerity compared with the truth, simplicity,\r
+and strength of the class of men he mentally classed as they. When\r
+Gerasim roused him from his reverie the idea occurred to him of taking\r
+part in the popular defense of Moscow which he knew was projected. And\r
+with that object he had asked Gerasim to get him a peasant's coat and a\r
+pistol, confiding to him his intentions of remaining in Joseph\r
+Alexeevich's house and keeping his name secret. Then during the first\r
+day spent in inaction and solitude (he tried several times to fix his\r
+attention on the masonic manuscripts, but was unable to do so) the idea\r
+that had previously occurred to him of the cabalistic significance of\r
+his name in connection with Bonaparte's more than once vaguely presented\r
+itself. But the idea that he, L'russe Besuhof, was destined to set a\r
+limit to the power of the Beast was as yet only one of the fancies that\r
+often passed through his mind and left no trace behind.\r
+\r
+When, having bought the coat merely with the object of taking part among\r
+the people in the defense of Moscow, Pierre had met the Rostovs and\r
+Natasha had said to him: "Are you remaining in Moscow?... How splendid!"\r
+the thought flashed into his mind that it really would be a good thing,\r
+even if Moscow were taken, for him to remain there and do what he was\r
+predestined to do.\r
+\r
+Next day, with the sole idea of not sparing himself and not lagging in\r
+any way behind them, Pierre went to the Three Hills gate. But when he\r
+returned to the house convinced that Moscow would not be defended, he\r
+suddenly felt that what before had seemed to him merely a possibility\r
+had now become absolutely necessary and inevitable. He must remain in\r
+Moscow, concealing his name, and must meet Napoleon and kill him, and\r
+either perish or put an end to the misery of all Europe--which it seemed\r
+to him was solely due to Napoleon.\r
+\r
+Pierre knew all the details of the attempt on Bonaparte's life in 1809\r
+by a German student in Vienna, and knew that the student had been shot.\r
+And the risk to which he would expose his life by carrying out his\r
+design excited him still more.\r
+\r
+Two equally strong feelings drew Pierre irresistibly to this purpose.\r
+The first was a feeling of the necessity of sacrifice and suffering in\r
+view of the common calamity, the same feeling that had caused him to go\r
+to Mozhaysk on the twenty-fifth and to make his way to the very thick of\r
+the battle and had now caused him to run away from his home and, in\r
+place of the luxury and comfort to which he was accustomed, to sleep on\r
+a hard sofa without undressing and eat the same food as Gerasim. The\r
+other was that vague and quite Russian feeling of contempt for\r
+everything conventional, artificial, and human--for everything the\r
+majority of men regard as the greatest good in the world. Pierre had\r
+first experienced this strange and fascinating feeling at the Sloboda\r
+Palace, when he had suddenly felt that wealth, power, and life--all that\r
+men so painstakingly acquire and guard--if it has any worth has so only\r
+by reason of the joy with which it can all be renounced.\r
+\r
+It was the feeling that induces a volunteer recruit to spend his last\r
+penny on drink, and a drunken man to smash mirrors or glasses for no\r
+apparent reason and knowing that it will cost him all the money he\r
+possesses: the feeling which causes a man to perform actions which from\r
+an ordinary point of view are insane, to test, as it were, his personal\r
+power and strength, affirming the existence of a higher, nonhuman\r
+criterion of life.\r
+\r
+From the very day Pierre had experienced this feeling for the first time\r
+at the Sloboda Palace he had been continuously under its influence, but\r
+only now found full satisfaction for it. Moreover, at this moment Pierre\r
+was supported in his design and prevented from renouncing it by what he\r
+had already done in that direction. If he were now to leave Moscow like\r
+everyone else, his flight from home, the peasant coat, the pistol, and\r
+his announcement to the Rostovs that he would remain in Moscow would all\r
+become not merely meaningless but contemptible and ridiculous, and to\r
+this Pierre was very sensitive.\r
+\r
+Pierre's physical condition, as is always the case, corresponded to his\r
+mental state. The unaccustomed coarse food, the vodka he drank during\r
+those days, the absence of wine and cigars, his dirty unchanged linen,\r
+two almost sleepless nights passed on a short sofa without bedding--all\r
+this kept him in a state of excitement bordering on insanity.\r
+\r
+It was two o'clock in the afternoon. The French had already entered\r
+Moscow. Pierre knew this, but instead of acting he only thought about\r
+his undertaking, going over its minutest details in his mind. In his\r
+fancy he did not clearly picture to himself either the striking of the\r
+blow or the death of Napoleon, but with extraordinary vividness and\r
+melancholy enjoyment imagined his own destruction and heroic endurance.\r
+\r
+"Yes, alone, for the sake of all, I must do it or perish!" he thought.\r
+"Yes, I will approach... and then suddenly... with pistol or dagger? But\r
+that is all the same! 'It is not I but the hand of Providence that\r
+punishes thee,' I shall say," thought he, imagining what he would say\r
+when killing Napoleon. "Well then, take me and execute me!" he went on,\r
+speaking to himself and bowing his head with a sad but firm expression.\r
+\r
+While Pierre, standing in the middle of the room, was talking to himself\r
+in this way, the study door opened and on the threshold appeared the\r
+figure of Makar Alexeevich, always so timid before but now quite\r
+transformed.\r
+\r
+His dressing gown was unfastened, his face red and distorted. He was\r
+obviously drunk. On seeing Pierre he grew confused at first, but\r
+noticing embarrassment on Pierre's face immediately grew bold and,\r
+staggering on his thin legs, advanced into the middle of the room.\r
+\r
+"They're frightened," he said confidentially in a hoarse voice. "I say I\r
+won't surrender, I say... Am I not right, sir?"\r
+\r
+He paused and then suddenly seeing the pistol on the table seized it\r
+with unexpected rapidity and ran out into the corridor.\r
+\r
+Gerasim and the porter, who had followed Makar Alexeevich, stopped him\r
+in the vestibule and tried to take the pistol from him. Pierre, coming\r
+out into the corridor, looked with pity and repulsion at the half-crazy\r
+old man. Makar Alexeevich, frowning with exertion, held on to the pistol\r
+and screamed hoarsely, evidently with some heroic fancy in his head.\r
+\r
+"To arms! Board them! No, you shan't get it," he yelled.\r
+\r
+"That will do, please, that will do. Have the goodness--please, sir, to\r
+let go! Please, sir..." pleaded Gerasim, trying carefully to steer Makar\r
+Alexeevich by the elbows back to the door.\r
+\r
+"Who are you? Bonaparte!..." shouted Makar Alexeevich.\r
+\r
+"That's not right, sir. Come to your room, please, and rest. Allow me to\r
+have the pistol."\r
+\r
+"Be off, thou base slave! Touch me not! See this?" shouted Makar\r
+Alexeevich, brandishing the pistol. "Board them!"\r
+\r
+"Catch hold!" whispered Gerasim to the porter.\r
+\r
+They seized Makar Alexeevich by the arms and dragged him to the door.\r
+\r
+The vestibule was filled with the discordant sounds of a struggle and of\r
+a tipsy, hoarse voice.\r
+\r
+Suddenly a fresh sound, a piercing feminine scream, reverberated from\r
+the porch and the cook came running into the vestibule.\r
+\r
+"It's them! Gracious heavens! O Lord, four of them, horsemen!" she\r
+cried.\r
+\r
+Gerasim and the porter let Makar Alexeevich go, and in the now silent\r
+corridor the sound of several hands knocking at the front door could be\r
+heard.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXVIII\r
+\r
+Pierre, having decided that until he had carried out his design he would\r
+disclose neither his identity nor his knowledge of French, stood at the\r
+half-open door of the corridor, intending to conceal himself as soon as\r
+the French entered. But the French entered and still Pierre did not\r
+retire--an irresistible curiosity kept him there.\r
+\r
+There were two of them. One was an officer--a tall, soldierly, handsome\r
+man--the other evidently a private or an orderly, sunburned, short, and\r
+thin, with sunken cheeks and a dull expression. The officer walked in\r
+front, leaning on a stick and slightly limping. When he had advanced a\r
+few steps he stopped, having apparently decided that these were good\r
+quarters, turned round to the soldiers standing at the entrance, and in\r
+a loud voice of command ordered them to put up the horses. Having done\r
+that, the officer, lifting his elbow with a smart gesture, stroked his\r
+mustache and lightly touched his hat.\r
+\r
+"Bonjour, la compagnie!" * said he gaily, smiling and looking about him.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Good day, everybody!"\r
+\r
+No one gave any reply.\r
+\r
+"Vous etes le bourgeois?" * the officer asked Gerasim.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Are you the master here?"\r
+\r
+Gerasim gazed at the officer with an alarmed and inquiring look.\r
+\r
+"Quartier, quartier, logement!" said the officer, looking down at the\r
+little man with a condescending and good-natured smile. "Les francais\r
+sont de bons enfants. Que diable! Voyons! Ne nous fachons pas, mon\r
+vieux!" * added he, clapping the scared and silent Gerasim on the\r
+shoulder. "Well, does no one speak French in this establishment?" he\r
+asked again in French, looking around and meeting Pierre's eyes. Pierre\r
+moved away from the door.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Quarters, quarters, lodgings! The French are good fellows. What the\r
+devil! There, don't let us be cross, old fellow!"\r
+\r
+Again the officer turned to Gerasim and asked him to show him the rooms\r
+in the house.\r
+\r
+"Master, not here--don't understand... me, you..." said Gerasim, trying\r
+to render his words more comprehensible by contorting them.\r
+\r
+Still smiling, the French officer spread out his hands before Gerasim's\r
+nose, intimating that he did not understand him either, and moved,\r
+limping, to the door at which Pierre was standing. Pierre wished to go\r
+away and conceal himself, but at that moment he saw Makar Alexeevich\r
+appearing at the open kitchen door with the pistol in his hand. With a\r
+madman's cunning, Makar Alexeevich eyed the Frenchman, raised his\r
+pistol, and took aim.\r
+\r
+"Board them!" yelled the tipsy man, trying to press the trigger. Hearing\r
+the yell the officer turned round, and at the same moment Pierre threw\r
+himself on the drunkard. Just when Pierre snatched at and struck up the\r
+pistol Makar Alexeevich at last got his fingers on the trigger, there\r
+was a deafening report, and all were enveloped in a cloud of smoke. The\r
+Frenchman turned pale and rushed to the door.\r
+\r
+Forgetting his intention of concealing his knowledge of French, Pierre,\r
+snatching away the pistol and throwing it down, ran up to the officer\r
+and addressed him in French.\r
+\r
+"You are not wounded?" he asked.\r
+\r
+"I think not," answered the Frenchman, feeling himself over. "But I have\r
+had a lucky escape this time," he added, pointing to the damaged plaster\r
+of the wall. "Who is that man?" said he, looking sternly at Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Oh, I am really in despair at what has occurred," said Pierre rapidly,\r
+quite forgetting the part he had intended to play. "He is an unfortunate\r
+madman who did not know what he was doing."\r
+\r
+The officer went up to Makar Alexeevich and took him by the collar.\r
+\r
+Makar Alexeevich was standing with parted lips, swaying, as if about to\r
+fall asleep, as he leaned against the wall.\r
+\r
+"Brigand! You shall pay for this," said the Frenchman, letting go of\r
+him. "We French are merciful after victory, but we do not pardon\r
+traitors," he added, with a look of gloomy dignity and a fine energetic\r
+gesture.\r
+\r
+Pierre continued, in French, to persuade the officer not to hold that\r
+drunken imbecile to account. The Frenchman listened in silence with the\r
+same gloomy expression, but suddenly turned to Pierre with a smile. For\r
+a few seconds he looked at him in silence. His handsome face assumed a\r
+melodramatically gentle expression and he held out his hand.\r
+\r
+"You have saved my life. You are French," said he.\r
+\r
+For a Frenchman that deduction was indubitable. Only a Frenchman could\r
+perform a great deed, and to save his life--the life of M. Ramballe,\r
+captain of the 13th Light Regiment--was undoubtedly a very great deed.\r
+\r
+But however indubitable that conclusion and the officer's conviction\r
+based upon it, Pierre felt it necessary to disillusion him.\r
+\r
+"I am Russian," he said quickly.\r
+\r
+"Tut, tut, tut! Tell that to others," said the officer, waving his\r
+finger before his nose and smiling. "You shall tell me all about that\r
+presently. I am delighted to meet a compatriot. Well, and what are we to\r
+do with this man?" he added, addressing himself to Pierre as to a\r
+brother.\r
+\r
+Even if Pierre were not a Frenchman, having once received that loftiest\r
+of human appellations he could not renounce it, said the officer's look\r
+and tone. In reply to his last question Pierre again explained who Makar\r
+Alexeevich was and how just before their arrival that drunken imbecile\r
+had seized the loaded pistol which they had not had time to recover from\r
+him, and begged the officer to let the deed go unpunished.\r
+\r
+The Frenchman expanded his chest and made a majestic gesture with his\r
+arm.\r
+\r
+"You have saved my life! You are French. You ask his pardon? I grant it\r
+you. Lead that man away!" said he quickly and energetically, and taking\r
+the arm of Pierre whom he had promoted to be a Frenchman for saving his\r
+life, he went with him into the room.\r
+\r
+The soldiers in the yard, hearing the shot, came into the passage asking\r
+what had happened, and expressed their readiness to punish the culprits,\r
+but the officer sternly checked them.\r
+\r
+"You will be called in when you are wanted," he said.\r
+\r
+The soldiers went out again, and the orderly, who had meanwhile had time\r
+to visit the kitchen, came up to his officer.\r
+\r
+"Captain, there is soup and a leg of mutton in the kitchen," said he.\r
+"Shall I serve them up?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, and some wine," answered the captain.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXIX\r
+\r
+When the French officer went into the room with Pierre the latter again\r
+thought it his duty to assure him that he was not French and wished to\r
+go away, but the officer would not hear of it. He was so very polite,\r
+amiable, good-natured, and genuinely grateful to Pierre for saving his\r
+life that Pierre had not the heart to refuse, and sat down with him in\r
+the parlor--the first room they entered. To Pierre's assurances that he\r
+was not a Frenchman, the captain, evidently not understanding how anyone\r
+could decline so flattering an appellation, shrugged his shoulders and\r
+said that if Pierre absolutely insisted on passing for a Russian let it\r
+be so, but for all that he would be forever bound to Pierre by gratitude\r
+for saving his life.\r
+\r
+Had this man been endowed with the slightest capacity for perceiving the\r
+feelings of others, and had he at all understood what Pierre's feelings\r
+were, the latter would probably have left him, but the man's animated\r
+obtuseness to everything other than himself disarmed Pierre.\r
+\r
+"A Frenchman or a Russian prince incognito," said the officer, looking\r
+at Pierre's fine though dirty linen and at the ring on his finger. "I\r
+owe my life to you and offer you my friendship. A Frenchman never\r
+forgets either an insult or a service. I offer you my friendship. That\r
+is all I can say."\r
+\r
+There was so much good nature and nobility (in the French sense of the\r
+word) in the officer's voice, in the expression of his face and in his\r
+gestures, that Pierre, unconsciously smiling in response to the\r
+Frenchman's smile, pressed the hand held out to him.\r
+\r
+"Captain Ramballe, of the 13th Light Regiment, Chevalier of the Legion\r
+of Honor for the affair on the seventh of September," he introduced\r
+himself, a self-satisfied irrepressible smile puckering his lips under\r
+his mustache. "Will you now be so good as to tell me with whom I have\r
+the honor of conversing so pleasantly, instead of being in the ambulance\r
+with that maniac's bullet in my body?"\r
+\r
+Pierre replied that he could not tell him his name and, blushing, began\r
+to try to invent a name and to say something about his reason for\r
+concealing it, but the Frenchman hastily interrupted him.\r
+\r
+"Oh, please!" said he. "I understand your reasons. You are an officer...\r
+a superior officer perhaps. You have borne arms against us. That's not\r
+my business. I owe you my life. That is enough for me. I am quite at\r
+your service. You belong to the gentry?" he concluded with a shade of\r
+inquiry in his tone. Pierre bent his head. "Your baptismal name, if you\r
+please. That is all I ask. Monsieur Pierre, you say.... That's all I\r
+want to know."\r
+\r
+When the mutton and an omelet had been served and a samovar and vodka\r
+brought, with some wine which the French had taken from a Russian cellar\r
+and brought with them, Ramballe invited Pierre to share his dinner, and\r
+himself began to eat greedily and quickly like a healthy and hungry man,\r
+munching his food rapidly with his strong teeth, continually smacking\r
+his lips, and repeating--"Excellent! Delicious!" His face grew red and\r
+was covered with perspiration. Pierre was hungry and shared the dinner\r
+with pleasure. Morel, the orderly, brought some hot water in a saucepan\r
+and placed a bottle of claret in it. He also brought a bottle of kvass,\r
+taken from the kitchen for them to try. That beverage was already known\r
+to the French and had been given a special name. They called it limonade\r
+de cochon (pig's lemonade), and Morel spoke well of the limonade de\r
+cochon he had found in the kitchen. But as the captain had the wine they\r
+had taken while passing through Moscow, he left the kvass to Morel and\r
+applied himself to the bottle of Bordeaux. He wrapped the bottle up to\r
+its neck in a table napkin and poured out wine for himself and for\r
+Pierre. The satisfaction of his hunger and the wine rendered the captain\r
+still more lively and he chatted incessantly all through dinner.\r
+\r
+"Yes, my dear Monsieur Pierre, I owe you a fine votive candle for saving\r
+me from that maniac.... You see, I have bullets enough in my body\r
+already. Here is one I got at Wagram" (he touched his side) "and a\r
+second at Smolensk"--he showed a scar on his cheek--"and this leg which\r
+as you see does not want to march, I got that on the seventh at the\r
+great battle of la Moskowa. Sacre Dieu! It was splendid! That deluge of\r
+fire was worth seeing. It was a tough job you set us there, my word! You\r
+may be proud of it! And on my honor, in spite of the cough I caught\r
+there, I should be ready to begin again. I pity those who did not see\r
+it."\r
+\r
+"I was there," said Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Bah, really? So much the better! You are certainly brave foes. The\r
+great redoubt held out well, by my pipe!" continued the Frenchman. "And\r
+you made us pay dear for it. I was at it three times--sure as I sit\r
+here. Three times we reached the guns and three times we were thrown\r
+back like cardboard figures. Oh, it was beautiful, Monsieur Pierre! Your\r
+grenadiers were splendid, by heaven! I saw them close up their ranks six\r
+times in succession and march as if on parade. Fine fellows! Our King of\r
+Naples, who knows what's what, cried 'Bravo!' Ha, ha! So you are one of\r
+us soldiers!" he added, smiling, after a momentary pause. "So much the\r
+better, so much the better, Monsieur Pierre! Terrible in battle...\r
+gallant... with the fair" (he winked and smiled), "that's what the\r
+French are, Monsieur Pierre, aren't they?"\r
+\r
+The captain was so naively and good-humoredly gay, so real, and so\r
+pleased with himself that Pierre almost winked back as he looked merrily\r
+at him. Probably the word "gallant" turned the captain's thoughts to the\r
+state of Moscow.\r
+\r
+"Apropos, tell me please, is it true that the women have all left\r
+Moscow? What a queer idea! What had they to be afraid of?"\r
+\r
+"Would not the French ladies leave Paris if the Russians entered it?"\r
+asked Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Ha, ha, ha!" The Frenchman emitted a merry, sanguine chuckle, patting\r
+Pierre on the shoulder. "What a thing to say!" he exclaimed. "Paris?...\r
+But Paris, Paris..."\r
+\r
+"Paris--the capital of the world," Pierre finished his remark for him.\r
+\r
+The captain looked at Pierre. He had a habit of stopping short in the\r
+middle of his talk and gazing intently with his laughing, kindly eyes.\r
+\r
+"Well, if you hadn't told me you were Russian, I should have wagered\r
+that you were Parisian! You have that... I don't know what, that..." and\r
+having uttered this compliment, he again gazed at him in silence.\r
+\r
+"I have been in Paris. I spent years there," said Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Oh yes, one sees that plainly. Paris!... A man who doesn't know Paris\r
+is a savage. You can tell a Parisian two leagues off. Paris is Talma, la\r
+Duchenois, Potier, the Sorbonne, the boulevards," and noticing that his\r
+conclusion was weaker than what had gone before, he added quickly:\r
+"There is only one Paris in the world. You have been to Paris and have\r
+remained Russian. Well, I don't esteem you the less for it."\r
+\r
+Under the influence of the wine he had drunk, and after the days he had\r
+spent alone with his depressing thoughts, Pierre involuntarily enjoyed\r
+talking with this cheerful and good-natured man.\r
+\r
+"To return to your ladies--I hear they are lovely. What a wretched idea\r
+to go and bury themselves in the steppes when the French army is in\r
+Moscow. What a chance those girls have missed! Your peasants, now--\r
+that's another thing; but you civilized people, you ought to know us\r
+better than that. We took Vienna, Berlin, Madrid, Naples, Rome, Warsaw,\r
+all the world's capitals.... We are feared, but we are loved. We are\r
+nice to know. And then the Emperor..." he began, but Pierre interrupted\r
+him.\r
+\r
+"The Emperor," Pierre repeated, and his face suddenly became sad and\r
+embarrassed, "is the Emperor...?"\r
+\r
+"The Emperor? He is generosity, mercy, justice, order, genius--that's\r
+what the Emperor is! It is I, Ramballe, who tell you so.... I assure you\r
+I was his enemy eight years ago. My father was an emigrant count.... But\r
+that man has vanquished me. He has taken hold of me. I could not resist\r
+the sight of the grandeur and glory with which he has covered France.\r
+When I understood what he wanted--when I saw that he was preparing a bed\r
+of laurels for us, you know, I said to myself: 'That is a monarch,' and\r
+I devoted myself to him! So there! Oh yes, mon cher, he is the greatest\r
+man of the ages past or future."\r
+\r
+"Is he in Moscow?" Pierre stammered with a guilty look.\r
+\r
+The Frenchman looked at his guilty face and smiled.\r
+\r
+"No, he will make his entry tomorrow," he replied, and continued his\r
+talk.\r
+\r
+Their conversation was interrupted by the cries of several voices at the\r
+gate and by Morel, who came to say that some Wurttemberg hussars had\r
+come and wanted to put up their horses in the yard where the captain's\r
+horses were. This difficulty had arisen chiefly because the hussars did\r
+not understand what was said to them in French.\r
+\r
+The captain had their senior sergeant called in, and in a stern voice\r
+asked him to what regiment he belonged, who was his commanding officer,\r
+and by what right he allowed himself to claim quarters that were already\r
+occupied. The German who knew little French, answered the two first\r
+questions by giving the names of his regiment and of his commanding\r
+officer, but in reply to the third question which he did not understand\r
+said, introducing broken French into his own German, that he was the\r
+quartermaster of the regiment and his commander had ordered him to\r
+occupy all the houses one after another. Pierre, who knew German,\r
+translated what the German said to the captain and gave the captain's\r
+reply to the Wurttemberg hussar in German. When he had understood what\r
+was said to him, the German submitted and took his men elsewhere. The\r
+captain went out into the porch and gave some orders in a loud voice.\r
+\r
+When he returned to the room Pierre was sitting in the same place as\r
+before, with his head in his hands. His face expressed suffering. He\r
+really was suffering at that moment. When the captain went out and he\r
+was left alone, suddenly he came to himself and realized the position he\r
+was in. It was not that Moscow had been taken or that the happy\r
+conquerors were masters in it and were patronizing him. Painful as that\r
+was it was not that which tormented Pierre at the moment. He was\r
+tormented by the consciousness of his own weakness. The few glasses of\r
+wine he had drunk and the conversation with this good-natured man had\r
+destroyed the mood of concentrated gloom in which he had spent the last\r
+few days and which was essential for the execution of his design. The\r
+pistol, dagger, and peasant coat were ready. Napoleon was to enter the\r
+town next day. Pierre still considered that it would be a useful and\r
+worthy action to slay the evildoer, but now he felt that he would not do\r
+it. He did not know why, but he felt a foreboding that he would not\r
+carry out his intention. He struggled against the confession of his\r
+weakness but dimly felt that he could not overcome it and that his\r
+former gloomy frame of mind, concerning vengeance, killing, and self-\r
+sacrifice, had been dispersed like dust by contact with the first man he\r
+met.\r
+\r
+The captain returned to the room, limping slightly and whistling a tune.\r
+\r
+The Frenchman's chatter which had previously amused Pierre now repelled\r
+him. The tune he was whistling, his gait, and the gesture with which he\r
+twirled his mustache, all now seemed offensive. "I will go away\r
+immediately. I won't say another word to him," thought Pierre. He\r
+thought this, but still sat in the same place. A strange feeling of\r
+weakness tied him to the spot; he wished to get up and go away, but\r
+could not do so.\r
+\r
+The captain, on the other hand, seemed very cheerful. He paced up and\r
+down the room twice. His eyes shone and his mustache twitched as if he\r
+were smiling to himself at some amusing thought.\r
+\r
+"The colonel of those Wurttembergers is delightful," he suddenly said.\r
+"He's a German, but a nice fellow all the same.... But he's a German."\r
+He sat down facing Pierre. "By the way, you know German, then?"\r
+\r
+Pierre looked at him in silence.\r
+\r
+"What is the German for 'shelter'?"\r
+\r
+"Shelter?" Pierre repeated. "The German for shelter is Unterkunft."\r
+\r
+"How do you say it?" the captain asked quickly and doubtfully.\r
+\r
+"Unterkunft," Pierre repeated.\r
+\r
+"Onterkoff," said the captain and looked at Pierre for some seconds with\r
+laughing eyes. "These Germans are first-rate fools, don't you think so,\r
+Monsieur Pierre?" he concluded.\r
+\r
+"Well, let's have another bottle of this Moscow Bordeaux, shall we?\r
+Morel will warm us up another little bottle. Morel!" he called out\r
+gaily.\r
+\r
+Morel brought candles and a bottle of wine. The captain looked at Pierre\r
+by the candlelight and was evidently struck by the troubled expression\r
+on his companion's face. Ramballe, with genuine distress and sympathy in\r
+his face, went up to Pierre and bent over him.\r
+\r
+"There now, we're sad," said he, touching Pierre's hand. "Have I upset\r
+you? No, really, have you anything against me?" he asked Pierre.\r
+"Perhaps it's the state of affairs?"\r
+\r
+Pierre did not answer, but looked cordially into the Frenchman's eyes\r
+whose expression of sympathy was pleasing to him.\r
+\r
+"Honestly, without speaking of what I owe you, I feel friendship for\r
+you. Can I do anything for you? Dispose of me. It is for life and death.\r
+I say it with my hand on my heart!" said he, striking his chest.\r
+\r
+"Thank you," said Pierre.\r
+\r
+The captain gazed intently at him as he had done when he learned that\r
+"shelter" was Unterkunft in German, and his face suddenly brightened.\r
+\r
+"Well, in that case, I drink to our friendship!" he cried gaily, filling\r
+two glasses with wine.\r
+\r
+Pierre took one of the glasses and emptied it. Ramballe emptied his too,\r
+again pressed Pierre's hand, and leaned his elbows on the table in a\r
+pensive attitude.\r
+\r
+"Yes, my dear friend," he began, "such is fortune's caprice. Who would\r
+have said that I should be a soldier and a captain of dragoons in the\r
+service of Bonaparte, as we used to call him? Yet here I am in Moscow\r
+with him. I must tell you, mon cher," he continued in the sad and\r
+measured tones of a man who intends to tell a long story, "that our name\r
+is one of the most ancient in France."\r
+\r
+And with a Frenchman's easy and naive frankness the captain told Pierre\r
+the story of his ancestors, his childhood, youth, and manhood, and all\r
+about his relations and his financial and family affairs, "ma pauvre\r
+mere" playing of course an important part in the story.\r
+\r
+"But all that is only life's setting, the real thing is love--love! Am I\r
+not right, Monsieur Pierre?" said he, growing animated. "Another glass?"\r
+\r
+Pierre again emptied his glass and poured himself out a third.\r
+\r
+"Oh, women, women!" and the captain, looking with glistening eyes at\r
+Pierre, began talking of love and of his love affairs.\r
+\r
+There were very many of these, as one could easily believe, looking at\r
+the officer's handsome, self-satisfied face, and noting the eager\r
+enthusiasm with which he spoke of women. Though all Ramballe's love\r
+stories had the sensual character which Frenchmen regard as the special\r
+charm and poetry of love, yet he told his story with such sincere\r
+conviction that he alone had experienced and known all the charm of love\r
+and he described women so alluringly that Pierre listened to him with\r
+curiosity.\r
+\r
+It was plain that l'amour which the Frenchman was so fond of was not\r
+that low and simple kind that Pierre had once felt for his wife, nor was\r
+it the romantic love stimulated by himself that he experienced for\r
+Natasha. (Ramballe despised both these kinds of love equally: the one he\r
+considered the "love of clodhoppers" and the other the "love of\r
+simpletons.") L'amour which the Frenchman worshiped consisted\r
+principally in the unnaturalness of his relation to the woman and in a\r
+combination of incongruities giving the chief charm to the feeling.\r
+\r
+Thus the captain touchingly recounted the story of his love for a\r
+fascinating marquise of thirty-five and at the same time for a charming,\r
+innocent child of seventeen, daughter of the bewitching marquise. The\r
+conflict of magnanimity between the mother and the daughter, ending in\r
+the mother's sacrificing herself and offering her daughter in marriage\r
+to her lover, even now agitated the captain, though it was the memory of\r
+a distant past. Then he recounted an episode in which the husband played\r
+the part of the lover, and he--the lover--assumed the role of the\r
+husband, as well as several droll incidents from his recollections of\r
+Germany, where "shelter" is called Unterkunft and where the husbands eat\r
+sauerkraut and the young girls are "too blonde."\r
+\r
+Finally, the latest episode in Poland still fresh in the captain's\r
+memory, and which he narrated with rapid gestures and glowing face, was\r
+of how he had saved the life of a Pole (in general, the saving of life\r
+continually occurred in the captain's stories) and the Pole had\r
+entrusted to him his enchanting wife (parisienne de coeur) while himself\r
+entering the French service. The captain was happy, the enchanting\r
+Polish lady wished to elope with him, but, prompted by magnanimity, the\r
+captain restored the wife to the husband, saying as he did so: "I have\r
+saved your life, and I save your honor!" Having repeated these words the\r
+captain wiped his eyes and gave himself a shake, as if driving away the\r
+weakness which assailed him at this touching recollection.\r
+\r
+Listening to the captain's tales, Pierre--as often happens late in the\r
+evening and under the influence of wine--followed all that was told him,\r
+understood it all, and at the same time followed a train of personal\r
+memories which, he knew not why, suddenly arose in his mind. While\r
+listening to these love stories his own love for Natasha unexpectedly\r
+rose to his mind, and going over the pictures of that love in his\r
+imagination he mentally compared them with Ramballe's tales. Listening\r
+to the story of the struggle between love and duty, Pierre saw before\r
+his eyes every minutest detail of his last meeting with the object of\r
+his love at the Sukharev water tower. At the time of that meeting it had\r
+not produced an effect upon him--he had not even once recalled it. But\r
+now it seemed to him that that meeting had had in it something very\r
+important and poetic.\r
+\r
+"Peter Kirilovich, come here! We have recognized you," he now seemed to\r
+hear the words she had uttered and to see before him her eyes, her\r
+smile, her traveling hood, and a stray lock of her hair... and there\r
+seemed to him something pathetic and touching in all this.\r
+\r
+Having finished his tale about the enchanting Polish lady, the captain\r
+asked Pierre if he had ever experienced a similar impulse to sacrifice\r
+himself for love and a feeling of envy of the legitimate husband.\r
+\r
+Challenged by this question Pierre raised his head and felt a need to\r
+express the thoughts that filled his mind. He began to explain that he\r
+understood love for a women somewhat differently. He said that in all\r
+his life he had loved and still loved only one woman, and that she could\r
+never be his.\r
+\r
+"Tiens!" said the captain.\r
+\r
+Pierre then explained that he had loved this woman from his earliest\r
+years, but that he had not dared to think of her because she was too\r
+young, and because he had been an illegitimate son without a name.\r
+Afterwards when he had received a name and wealth he dared not think of\r
+her because he loved her too well, placing her far above everything in\r
+the world, and especially therefore above himself.\r
+\r
+When he had reached this point, Pierre asked the captain whether he\r
+understood that.\r
+\r
+The captain made a gesture signifying that even if he did not understand\r
+it he begged Pierre to continue.\r
+\r
+"Platonic love, clouds..." he muttered.\r
+\r
+Whether it was the wine he had drunk, or an impulse of frankness, or the\r
+thought that this man did not, and never would, know any of those who\r
+played a part in his story, or whether it was all these things together,\r
+something loosened Pierre's tongue. Speaking thickly and with a faraway\r
+look in his shining eyes, he told the whole story of his life: his\r
+marriage, Natasha's love for his best friend, her betrayal of him, and\r
+all his own simple relations with her. Urged on by Ramballe's questions\r
+he also told what he had at first concealed--his own position and even\r
+his name.\r
+\r
+More than anything else in Pierre's story the captain was impressed by\r
+the fact that Pierre was very rich, had two mansions in Moscow, and that\r
+he had abandoned everything and not left the city, but remained there\r
+concealing his name and station.\r
+\r
+When it was late at night they went out together into the street. The\r
+night was warm and light. To the left of the house on the Pokrovka a\r
+fire glowed--the first of those that were beginning in Moscow. To the\r
+right and high up in the sky was the sickle of the waning moon and\r
+opposite to it hung that bright comet which was connected in Pierre's\r
+heart with his love. At the gate stood Gerasim, the cook, and two\r
+Frenchmen. Their laughter and their mutually incomprehensible remarks in\r
+two languages could be heard. They were looking at the glow seen in the\r
+town.\r
+\r
+There was nothing terrible in the one small, distant fire in the immense\r
+city.\r
+\r
+Gazing at the high starry sky, at the moon, at the comet, and at the\r
+glow from the fire, Pierre experienced a joyful emotion. "There now, how\r
+good it is, what more does one need?" thought he. And suddenly\r
+remembering his intention he grew dizzy and felt so faint that he leaned\r
+against the fence to save himself from falling.\r
+\r
+Without taking leave of his new friend, Pierre left the gate with\r
+unsteady steps and returning to his room lay down on the sofa and\r
+immediately fell asleep.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXX\r
+\r
+The glow of the first fire that began on the second of September was\r
+watched from the various roads by the fugitive Muscovites and by the\r
+retreating troops, with many different feelings.\r
+\r
+The Rostov party spent the night at Mytishchi, fourteen miles from\r
+Moscow. They had started so late on the first of September, the road had\r
+been so blocked by vehicles and troops, so many things had been\r
+forgotten for which servants were sent back, that they had decided to\r
+spend that night at a place three miles out of Moscow. The next morning\r
+they woke late and were again delayed so often that they only got as far\r
+as Great Mytishchi. At ten o'clock that evening the Rostov family and\r
+the wounded traveling with them were all distributed in the yards and\r
+huts of that large village. The Rostovs' servants and coachmen and the\r
+orderlies of the wounded officers, after attending to their masters, had\r
+supper, fed the horses, and came out into the porches.\r
+\r
+In a neighboring hut lay Raevski's adjutant with a fractured wrist. The\r
+awful pain he suffered made him moan incessantly and piteously, and his\r
+moaning sounded terrible in the darkness of the autumn night. He had\r
+spent the first night in the same yard as the Rostovs. The countess said\r
+she had been unable to close her eyes on account of his moaning, and at\r
+Mytishchi she moved into a worse hut simply to be farther away from the\r
+wounded man.\r
+\r
+In the darkness of the night one of the servants noticed, above the high\r
+body of a coach standing before the porch, the small glow of another\r
+fire. One glow had long been visible and everybody knew that it was\r
+Little Mytishchi burning--set on fire by Mamonov's Cossacks.\r
+\r
+"But look here, brothers, there's another fire!" remarked an orderly.\r
+\r
+All turned their attention to the glow.\r
+\r
+"But they told us Little Mytishchi had been set on fire by Mamonov's\r
+Cossacks."\r
+\r
+"But that's not Mytishchi, it's farther away."\r
+\r
+"Look, it must be in Moscow!"\r
+\r
+Two of the gazers went round to the other side of the coach and sat down\r
+on its steps.\r
+\r
+"It's more to the left, why, Little Mytishchi is over there, and this is\r
+right on the other side."\r
+\r
+Several men joined the first two.\r
+\r
+"See how it's flaring," said one. "That's a fire in Moscow: either in\r
+the Sushchevski or the Rogozhski quarter."\r
+\r
+No one replied to this remark and for some time they all gazed silently\r
+at the spreading flames of the second fire in the distance.\r
+\r
+Old Daniel Terentich, the count's valet (as he was called), came up to\r
+the group and shouted at Mishka.\r
+\r
+"What are you staring at, you good-for-nothing?... The count will be\r
+calling and there's nobody there; go and gather the clothes together."\r
+\r
+"I only ran out to get some water," said Mishka.\r
+\r
+"But what do you think, Daniel Terentich? Doesn't it look as if that\r
+glow were in Moscow?" remarked one of the footmen.\r
+\r
+Daniel Terentich made no reply, and again for a long time they were all\r
+silent. The glow spread, rising and falling, farther and farther still.\r
+\r
+"God have mercy.... It's windy and dry..." said another voice.\r
+\r
+"Just look! See what it's doing now. O Lord! You can even see the crows\r
+flying. Lord have mercy on us sinners!"\r
+\r
+"They'll put it out, no fear!"\r
+\r
+"Who's to put it out?" Daniel Terentich, who had hitherto been silent,\r
+was heard to say. His voice was calm and deliberate. "Moscow it is,\r
+brothers," said he. "Mother Moscow, the white..." his voice faltered,\r
+and he gave way to an old man's sob.\r
+\r
+And it was as if they had all only waited for this to realize the\r
+significance for them of the glow they were watching. Sighs were heard,\r
+words of prayer, and the sobbing of the count's old valet.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXXI\r
+\r
+The valet, returning to the cottage, informed the count that Moscow was\r
+burning. The count donned his dressing gown and went out to look. Sonya\r
+and Madame Schoss, who had not yet undressed, went out with him. Only\r
+Natasha and the countess remained in the room. Petya was no longer with\r
+the family, he had gone on with his regiment which was making for\r
+Troitsa.\r
+\r
+The countess, on hearing that Moscow was on fire, began to cry. Natasha,\r
+pale, with a fixed look, was sitting on the bench under the icons just\r
+where she had sat down on arriving and paid no attention to her father's\r
+words. She was listening to the ceaseless moaning of the adjutant, three\r
+houses off.\r
+\r
+"Oh, how terrible," said Sonya returning from the yard chilled and\r
+frightened. "I believe the whole of Moscow will burn, there's an awful\r
+glow! Natasha, do look! You can see it from the window," she said to her\r
+cousin, evidently wishing to distract her mind.\r
+\r
+But Natasha looked at her as if not understanding what was said to her\r
+and again fixed her eyes on the corner of the stove. She had been in\r
+this condition of stupor since the morning, when Sonya, to the surprise\r
+and annoyance of the countess, had for some unaccountable reason found\r
+it necessary to tell Natasha of Prince Andrew's wound and of his being\r
+with their party. The countess had seldom been so angry with anyone as\r
+she was with Sonya. Sonya had cried and begged to be forgiven and now,\r
+as if trying to atone for her fault, paid unceasing attention to her\r
+cousin.\r
+\r
+"Look, Natasha, how dreadfully it is burning!" said she.\r
+\r
+"What's burning?" asked Natasha. "Oh, yes, Moscow."\r
+\r
+And as if in order not to offend Sonya and to get rid of her, she turned\r
+her face to the window, looked out in such a way that it was evident\r
+that she could not see anything, and again settled down in her former\r
+attitude.\r
+\r
+"But you didn't see it!"\r
+\r
+"Yes, really I did," Natasha replied in a voice that pleaded to be left\r
+in peace.\r
+\r
+Both the countess and Sonya understood that, naturally, neither Moscow\r
+nor the burning of Moscow nor anything else could seem of importance to\r
+Natasha.\r
+\r
+The count returned and lay down behind the partition. The countess went\r
+up to her daughter and touched her head with the back of her hand as she\r
+was wont to do when Natasha was ill, then touched her forehead with her\r
+lips as if to feel whether she was feverish, and finally kissed her.\r
+\r
+"You are cold. You are trembling all over. You'd better lie down," said\r
+the countess.\r
+\r
+"Lie down? All right, I will. I'll lie down at once," said Natasha.\r
+\r
+When Natasha had been told that morning that Prince Andrew was seriously\r
+wounded and was traveling with their party, she had at first asked many\r
+questions: Where was he going? How was he wounded? Was it serious? And\r
+could she see him? But after she had been told that she could not see\r
+him, that he was seriously wounded but that his life was not in danger,\r
+she ceased to ask questions or to speak at all, evidently disbelieving\r
+what they told her, and convinced that say what she might she would\r
+still be told the same. All the way she had sat motionless in a corner\r
+of the coach with wide open eyes, and the expression in them which the\r
+countess knew so well and feared so much, and now she sat in the same\r
+way on the bench where she had seated herself on arriving. She was\r
+planning something and either deciding or had already decided something\r
+in her mind. The countess knew this, but what it might be she did not\r
+know, and this alarmed and tormented her.\r
+\r
+"Natasha, undress, darling; lie down on my bed."\r
+\r
+A bed had been made on a bedstead for the countess only. Madame Schoss\r
+and the two girls were to sleep on some hay on the floor.\r
+\r
+"No, Mamma, I will lie down here on the floor," Natasha replied\r
+irritably and she went to the window and opened it. Through the open\r
+window the moans of the adjutant could be heard more distinctly. She put\r
+her head out into the damp night air, and the countess saw her slim neck\r
+shaking with sobs and throbbing against the window frame. Natasha knew\r
+it was not Prince Andrew who was moaning. She knew Prince Andrew was in\r
+the same yard as themselves and in a part of the hut across the passage;\r
+but this dreadful incessant moaning made her sob. The countess exchanged\r
+a look with Sonya.\r
+\r
+"Lie down, darling; lie down, my pet," said the countess, softly\r
+touching Natasha's shoulders. "Come, lie down."\r
+\r
+"Oh, yes... I'll lie down at once," said Natasha, and began hurriedly\r
+undressing, tugging at the tapes of her petticoat.\r
+\r
+When she had thrown off her dress and put on a dressing jacket, she sat\r
+down with her foot under her on the bed that had been made up on the\r
+floor, jerked her thin and rather short plait of hair to the front, and\r
+began replaiting it. Her long, thin, practiced fingers rapidly\r
+unplaited, replaited, and tied up her plait. Her head moved from side to\r
+side from habit, but her eyes, feverishly wide, looked fixedly before\r
+her. When her toilet for the night was finished she sank gently onto the\r
+sheet spread over the hay on the side nearest the door.\r
+\r
+"Natasha, you'd better lie in the middle," said Sonya.\r
+\r
+"I'll stay here," muttered Natasha. "Do lie down," she added crossly,\r
+and buried her face in the pillow.\r
+\r
+The countess, Madame Schoss, and Sonya undressed hastily and lay down.\r
+The small lamp in front of the icons was the only light left in the\r
+room. But in the yard there was a light from the fire at Little\r
+Mytishchi a mile and a half away, and through the night came the noise\r
+of people shouting at a tavern Mamonov's Cossacks had set up across the\r
+street, and the adjutant's unceasing moans could still be heard.\r
+\r
+For a long time Natasha listened attentively to the sounds that reached\r
+her from inside and outside the room and did not move. First she heard\r
+her mother praying and sighing and the creaking of her bed under her,\r
+then Madame Schoss' familiar whistling snore and Sonya's gentle\r
+breathing. Then the countess called to Natasha. Natasha did not answer.\r
+\r
+"I think she's asleep, Mamma," said Sonya softly.\r
+\r
+After a short silence the countess spoke again but this time no one\r
+replied.\r
+\r
+Soon after that Natasha heard her mother's even breathing. Natasha did\r
+not move, though her little bare foot, thrust out from under the quilt,\r
+was growing cold on the bare floor.\r
+\r
+As if to celebrate a victory over everybody, a cricket chirped in a\r
+crack in the wall. A cock crowed far off and another replied near by.\r
+The shouting in the tavern had died down; only the moaning of the\r
+adjutant was heard. Natasha sat up.\r
+\r
+"Sonya, are you asleep? Mamma?" she whispered.\r
+\r
+No one replied. Natasha rose slowly and carefully, crossed herself, and\r
+stepped cautiously on the cold and dirty floor with her slim, supple,\r
+bare feet. The boards of the floor creaked. Stepping cautiously from one\r
+foot to the other she ran like a kitten the few steps to the door and\r
+grasped the cold door handle.\r
+\r
+It seemed to her that something heavy was beating rhythmically against\r
+all the walls of the room: it was her own heart, sinking with alarm and\r
+terror and overflowing with love.\r
+\r
+She opened the door and stepped across the threshold and onto the cold,\r
+damp earthen floor of the passage. The cold she felt refreshed her. With\r
+her bare feet she touched a sleeping man, stepped over him, and opened\r
+the door into the part of the hut where Prince Andrew lay. It was dark\r
+in there. In the farthest corner, on a bench beside a bed on which\r
+something was lying, stood a tallow candle with a long, thick, and\r
+smoldering wick.\r
+\r
+From the moment she had been told that morning of Prince Andrew's wound\r
+and his presence there, Natasha had resolved to see him. She did not\r
+know why she had to, she knew the meeting would be painful, but felt the\r
+more convinced that it was necessary.\r
+\r
+All day she had lived only in hope of seeing him that night. But now\r
+that the moment had come she was filled with dread of what she might\r
+see. How was he maimed? What was left of him? Was he like that incessant\r
+moaning of the adjutant's? Yes, he was altogether like that. In her\r
+imagination he was that terrible moaning personified. When she saw an\r
+indistinct shape in the corner, and mistook his knees raised under the\r
+quilt for his shoulders, she imagined a horrible body there, and stood\r
+still in terror. But an irresistible impulse drew her forward. She\r
+cautiously took one step and then another, and found herself in the\r
+middle of a small room containing baggage. Another man--Timokhin--was\r
+lying in a corner on the benches beneath the icons, and two others--the\r
+doctor and a valet--lay on the floor.\r
+\r
+The valet sat up and whispered something. Timokhin, kept awake by the\r
+pain in his wounded leg, gazed with wide-open eyes at this strange\r
+apparition of a girl in a white chemise, dressing jacket, and nightcap.\r
+The valet's sleepy, frightened exclamation, "What do you want? What's\r
+the matter?" made Natasha approach more swiftly to what was lying in the\r
+corner. Horribly unlike a man as that body looked, she must see him. She\r
+passed the valet, the snuff fell from the candle wick, and she saw\r
+Prince Andrew clearly with his arms outside the quilt, and such as she\r
+had always seen him.\r
+\r
+He was the same as ever, but the feverish color of his face, his\r
+glittering eyes rapturously turned toward her, and especially his neck,\r
+delicate as a child's, revealed by the turn-down collar of his shirt,\r
+gave him a peculiarly innocent, childlike look, such as she had never\r
+seen on him before. She went up to him and with a swift, flexible,\r
+youthful movement dropped on her knees.\r
+\r
+He smiled and held out his hand to her.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXXII\r
+\r
+Seven days had passed since Prince Andrew found himself in the ambulance\r
+station on the field of Borodino. His feverish state and the\r
+inflammation of his bowels, which were injured, were in the doctor's\r
+opinion sure to carry him off. But on the seventh day he ate with\r
+pleasure a piece of bread with some tea, and the doctor noticed that his\r
+temperature was lower. He had regained consciousness that morning. The\r
+first night after they left Moscow had been fairly warm and he had\r
+remained in the caleche, but at Mytishchi the wounded man himself asked\r
+to be taken out and given some tea. The pain caused by his removal into\r
+the hut had made him groan aloud and again lose consciousness. When he\r
+had been placed on his camp bed he lay for a long time motionless with\r
+closed eyes. Then he opened them and whispered softly: "And the tea?"\r
+His remembering such a small detail of everyday life astonished the\r
+doctor. He felt Prince Andrew's pulse, and to his surprise and\r
+dissatisfaction found it had improved. He was dissatisfied because he\r
+knew by experience that if his patient did not die now, he would do so a\r
+little later with greater suffering. Timokhin, the red-nosed major of\r
+Prince Andrew's regiment, had joined him in Moscow and was being taken\r
+along with him, having been wounded in the leg at the battle of\r
+Borodino. They were accompanied by a doctor, Prince Andrew's valet, his\r
+coachman, and two orderlies.\r
+\r
+They gave Prince Andrew some tea. He drank it eagerly, looking with\r
+feverish eyes at the door in front of him as if trying to understand and\r
+remember something.\r
+\r
+"I don't want any more. Is Timokhin here?" he asked.\r
+\r
+Timokhin crept along the bench to him.\r
+\r
+"I am here, your excellency."\r
+\r
+"How's your wound?"\r
+\r
+"Mine, sir? All right. But how about you?"\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew again pondered as if trying to remember something.\r
+\r
+"Couldn't one get a book?" he asked.\r
+\r
+"What book?"\r
+\r
+"The Gospels. I haven't one."\r
+\r
+The doctor promised to procure it for him and began to ask how he was\r
+feeling. Prince Andrew answered all his questions reluctantly but\r
+reasonably, and then said he wanted a bolster placed under him as he was\r
+uncomfortable and in great pain. The doctor and valet lifted the cloak\r
+with which he was covered and, making wry faces at the noisome smell of\r
+mortifying flesh that came from the wound, began examining that dreadful\r
+place. The doctor was very much displeased about something and made a\r
+change in the dressings, turning the wounded man over so that he groaned\r
+again and grew unconscious and delirious from the agony. He kept asking\r
+them to get him the book and put it under him.\r
+\r
+"What trouble would it be to you?" he said. "I have not got one. Please\r
+get it for me and put it under for a moment," he pleaded in a piteous\r
+voice.\r
+\r
+The doctor went into the passage to wash his hands.\r
+\r
+"You fellows have no conscience," said he to the valet who was pouring\r
+water over his hands. "For just one moment I didn't look after you...\r
+It's such pain, you know, that I wonder how he can bear it."\r
+\r
+"By the Lord Jesus Christ, I thought we had put something under him!"\r
+said the valet.\r
+\r
+The first time Prince Andrew understood where he was and what was the\r
+matter with him and remembered being wounded and how was when he asked\r
+to be carried into the hut after his caleche had stopped at Mytishchi.\r
+After growing confused from pain while being carried into the hut he\r
+again regained consciousness, and while drinking tea once more recalled\r
+all that had happened to him, and above all vividly remembered the\r
+moment at the ambulance station when, at the sight of the sufferings of\r
+a man he disliked, those new thoughts had come to him which promised him\r
+happiness. And those thoughts, though now vague and indefinite, again\r
+possessed his soul. He remembered that he had now a new source of\r
+happiness and that this happiness had something to do with the Gospels.\r
+That was why he asked for a copy of them. The uncomfortable position in\r
+which they had put him and turned him over again confused his thoughts,\r
+and when he came to himself a third time it was in the complete\r
+stillness of the night. Everybody near him was sleeping. A cricket\r
+chirped from across the passage; someone was shouting and singing in the\r
+street; cockroaches rustled on the table, on the icons, and on the\r
+walls, and a big fly flopped at the head of the bed and around the\r
+candle beside him, the wick of which was charred and had shaped itself\r
+like a mushroom.\r
+\r
+His mind was not in a normal state. A healthy man usually thinks of,\r
+feels, and remembers innumerable things simultaneously, but has the\r
+power and will to select one sequence of thoughts or events on which to\r
+fix his whole attention. A healthy man can tear himself away from the\r
+deepest reflections to say a civil word to someone who comes in and can\r
+then return again to his own thoughts. But Prince Andrew's mind was not\r
+in a normal state in that respect. All the powers of his mind were more\r
+active and clearer than ever, but they acted apart from his will. Most\r
+diverse thoughts and images occupied him simultaneously. At times his\r
+brain suddenly began to work with a vigor, clearness, and depth it had\r
+never reached when he was in health, but suddenly in the midst of its\r
+work it would turn to some unexpected idea and he had not the strength\r
+to turn it back again.\r
+\r
+"Yes, a new happiness was revealed to me of which man cannot be\r
+deprived," he thought as he lay in the semidarkness of the quiet hut,\r
+gazing fixedly before him with feverish wide open eyes. "A happiness\r
+lying beyond material forces, outside the material influences that act\r
+on man--a happiness of the soul alone, the happiness of loving. Every\r
+man can understand it, but to conceive it and enjoin it was possible\r
+only for God. But how did God enjoin that law? And why was the Son...?"\r
+\r
+And suddenly the sequence of these thoughts broke off, and Prince Andrew\r
+heard (without knowing whether it was a delusion or reality) a soft\r
+whispering voice incessantly and rhythmically repeating "piti-piti-\r
+piti," and then "titi," and then again "piti-piti-piti," and "ti-ti"\r
+once more. At the same time he felt that above his face, above the very\r
+middle of it, some strange airy structure was being erected out of\r
+slender needles or splinters, to the sound of this whispered music. He\r
+felt that he had to balance carefully (though it was difficult) so that\r
+this airy structure should not collapse; but nevertheless it kept\r
+collapsing and again slowly rising to the sound of whispered rhythmic\r
+music--"it stretches, stretches, spreading out and stretching," said\r
+Prince Andrew to himself. While listening to this whispering and feeling\r
+the sensation of this drawing out and the construction of this edifice\r
+of needles, he also saw by glimpses a red halo round the candle, and\r
+heard the rustle of the cockroaches and the buzzing of the fly that\r
+flopped against his pillow and his face. Each time the fly touched his\r
+face it gave him a burning sensation and yet to his surprise it did not\r
+destroy the structure, though it knocked against the very region of his\r
+face where it was rising. But besides this there was something else of\r
+importance. It was something white by the door--the statue of a sphinx,\r
+which also oppressed him.\r
+\r
+"But perhaps that's my shirt on the table," he thought, "and that's my\r
+legs, and that is the door, but why is it always stretching and drawing\r
+itself out, and 'piti-piti-piti' and 'ti-ti' and 'piti-piti-piti'...?\r
+That's enough, please leave off!" Prince Andrew painfully entreated\r
+someone. And suddenly thoughts and feelings again swam to the surface of\r
+his mind with peculiar clearness and force.\r
+\r
+"Yes--love," he thought again quite clearly. "But not love which loves\r
+for something, for some quality, for some purpose, or for some reason,\r
+but the love which I--while dying--first experienced when I saw my enemy\r
+and yet loved him. I experienced that feeling of love which is the very\r
+essence of the soul and does not require an object. Now again I feel\r
+that bliss. To love one's neighbors, to love one's enemies, to love\r
+everything, to love God in all His manifestations. It is possible to\r
+love someone dear to you with human love, but an enemy can only be loved\r
+by divine love. That is why I experienced such joy when I felt that I\r
+loved that man. What has become of him? Is he alive?...\r
+\r
+"When loving with human love one may pass from love to hatred, but\r
+divine love cannot change. No, neither death nor anything else can\r
+destroy it. It is the very essence of the soul. Yet how many people have\r
+I hated in my life? And of them all, I loved and hated none as I did\r
+her." And he vividly pictured to himself Natasha, not as he had done in\r
+the past with nothing but her charms which gave him delight, but for the\r
+first time picturing to himself her soul. And he understood her\r
+feelings, her sufferings, shame, and remorse. He now understood for the\r
+first time all the cruelty of his rejection of her, the cruelty of his\r
+rupture with her. "If only it were possible for me to see her once more!\r
+Just once, looking into those eyes to say..."\r
+\r
+"Piti-piti-piti and ti-ti and piti-piti-piti boom!" flopped the fly...\r
+And his attention was suddenly carried into another world, a world of\r
+reality and delirium in which something particular was happening. In\r
+that world some structure was still being erected and did not fall,\r
+something was still stretching out, and the candle with its red halo was\r
+still burning, and the same shirtlike sphinx lay near the door; but\r
+besides all this something creaked, there was a whiff of fresh air, and\r
+a new white sphinx appeared, standing at the door. And that sphinx had\r
+the pale face and shining eyes of the very Natasha of whom he had just\r
+been thinking.\r
+\r
+"Oh, how oppressive this continual delirium is," thought Prince Andrew,\r
+trying to drive that face from his imagination. But the face remained\r
+before him with the force of reality and drew nearer. Prince Andrew\r
+wished to return to that former world of pure thought, but he could not,\r
+and delirium drew him back into its domain. The soft whispering voice\r
+continued its rhythmic murmur, something oppressed him and stretched\r
+out, and the strange face was before him. Prince Andrew collected all\r
+his strength in an effort to recover his senses, he moved a little, and\r
+suddenly there was a ringing in his ears, a dimness in his eyes, and\r
+like a man plunged into water he lost consciousness. When he came to\r
+himself, Natasha, that same living Natasha whom of all people he most\r
+longed to love with this new pure divine love that had been revealed to\r
+him, was kneeling before him. He realized that it was the real living\r
+Natasha, and he was not surprised but quietly happy. Natasha, motionless\r
+on her knees (she was unable to stir), with frightened eyes riveted on\r
+him, was restraining her sobs. Her face was pale and rigid. Only in the\r
+lower part of it something quivered.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew sighed with relief, smiled, and held out his hand.\r
+\r
+"You?" he said. "How fortunate!"\r
+\r
+With a rapid but careful movement Natasha drew nearer to him on her\r
+knees and, taking his hand carefully, bent her face over it and began\r
+kissing it, just touching it lightly with her lips.\r
+\r
+"Forgive me!" she whispered, raising her head and glancing at him.\r
+"Forgive me!"\r
+\r
+"I love you," said Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+"Forgive...!"\r
+\r
+"Forgive what?" he asked.\r
+\r
+"Forgive me for what I ha-ve do-ne!" faltered Natasha in a scarcely\r
+audible, broken whisper, and began kissing his hand more rapidly, just\r
+touching it with her lips.\r
+\r
+"I love you more, better than before," said Prince Andrew, lifting her\r
+face with his hand so as to look into her eyes.\r
+\r
+Those eyes, filled with happy tears, gazed at him timidly,\r
+compassionately, and with joyous love. Natasha's thin pale face, with\r
+its swollen lips, was more than plain--it was dreadful. But Prince\r
+Andrew did not see that, he saw her shining eyes which were beautiful.\r
+They heard the sound of voices behind them.\r
+\r
+Peter the valet, who was now wide awake, had roused the doctor.\r
+Timokhin, who had not slept at all because of the pain in his leg, had\r
+long been watching all that was going on, carefully covering his bare\r
+body with the sheet as he huddled up on his bench.\r
+\r
+"What's this?" said the doctor, rising from his bed. "Please go away,\r
+madam!"\r
+\r
+At that moment a maid sent by the countess, who had noticed her\r
+daughter's absence, knocked at the door.\r
+\r
+Like a somnambulist aroused from her sleep Natasha went out of the room\r
+and, returning to her hut, fell sobbing on her bed.\r
+\r
+From that time, during all the rest of the Rostovs' journey, at every\r
+halting place and wherever they spent a night, Natasha never left the\r
+wounded Bolkonski, and the doctor had to admit that he had not expected\r
+from a young girl either such firmness or such skill in nursing a\r
+wounded man.\r
+\r
+Dreadful as the countess imagined it would be should Prince Andrew die\r
+in her daughter's arms during the journey--as, judging by what the\r
+doctor said, it seemed might easily happen--she could not oppose\r
+Natasha. Though with the intimacy now established between the wounded\r
+man and Natasha the thought occurred that should he recover their former\r
+engagement would be renewed, no one--least of all Natasha and Prince\r
+Andrew--spoke of this: the unsettled question of life and death, which\r
+hung not only over Bolkonski but over all Russia, shut out all other\r
+considerations.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXXIII\r
+\r
+On the third of September Pierre awoke late. His head was aching, the\r
+clothes in which he had slept without undressing felt uncomfortable on\r
+his body, and his mind had a dim consciousness of something shameful he\r
+had done the day before. That something shameful was his yesterday's\r
+conversation with Captain Ramballe.\r
+\r
+It was eleven by the clock, but it seemed peculiarly dark out of doors.\r
+Pierre rose, rubbed his eyes, and seeing the pistol with an engraved\r
+stock which Gerasim had replaced on the writing table, he remembered\r
+where he was and what lay before him that very day.\r
+\r
+"Am I not too late?" he thought. "No, probably he won't make his entry\r
+into Moscow before noon."\r
+\r
+Pierre did not allow himself to reflect on what lay before him, but\r
+hastened to act.\r
+\r
+After arranging his clothes, he took the pistol and was about to go out.\r
+But it then occurred to him for the first time that he certainly could\r
+not carry the weapon in his hand through the streets. It was difficult\r
+to hide such a big pistol even under his wide coat. He could not carry\r
+it unnoticed in his belt or under his arm. Besides, it had been\r
+discharged, and he had not had time to reload it. "No matter, dagger\r
+will do," he said to himself, though when planning his design he had\r
+more than once come to the conclusion that the chief mistake made by the\r
+student in 1809 had been to try to kill Napoleon with a dagger. But as\r
+his chief aim consisted not in carrying out his design, but in proving\r
+to himself that he would not abandon his intention and was doing all he\r
+could to achieve it, Pierre hastily took the blunt jagged dagger in a\r
+green sheath which he had bought at the Sukharev market with the pistol,\r
+and hid it under his waistcoat.\r
+\r
+Having tied a girdle over his coat and pulled his cap low on his head,\r
+Pierre went down the corridor, trying to avoid making a noise or meeting\r
+the captain, and passed out into the street.\r
+\r
+The conflagration, at which he had looked with so much indifference the\r
+evening before, had greatly increased during the night. Moscow was on\r
+fire in several places. The buildings in Carriage Row, across the river,\r
+in the Bazaar and the Povarskoy, as well as the barges on the Moskva\r
+River and the timber yards by the Dorogomilov Bridge, were all ablaze.\r
+\r
+Pierre's way led through side streets to the Povarskoy and from there to\r
+the church of St. Nicholas on the Arbat, where he had long before\r
+decided that the deed should be done. The gates of most of the houses\r
+were locked and the shutters up. The streets and lanes were deserted.\r
+The air was full of smoke and the smell of burning. Now and then he met\r
+Russians with anxious and timid faces, and Frenchmen with an air not of\r
+the city but of the camp, walking in the middle of the streets. Both the\r
+Russians and the French looked at Pierre with surprise. Besides his\r
+height and stoutness, and the strange morose look of suffering in his\r
+face and whole figure, the Russians stared at Pierre because they could\r
+not make out to what class he could belong. The French followed him with\r
+astonishment in their eyes chiefly because Pierre, unlike all the other\r
+Russians who gazed at the French with fear and curiosity, paid no\r
+attention to them. At the gate of one house three Frenchmen, who were\r
+explaining something to some Russians who did not understand them,\r
+stopped Pierre asking if he did not know French.\r
+\r
+Pierre shook his head and went on. In another side street a sentinel\r
+standing beside a green caisson shouted at him, but only when the shout\r
+was threateningly repeated and he heard the click of the man's musket as\r
+he raised it did Pierre understand that he had to pass on the other side\r
+of the street. He heard nothing and saw nothing of what went on around\r
+him. He carried his resolution within himself in terror and haste, like\r
+something dreadful and alien to him, for, after the previous night's\r
+experience, he was afraid of losing it. But he was not destined to bring\r
+his mood safely to his destination. And even had he not been hindered by\r
+anything on the way, his intention could not now have been carried out,\r
+for Napoleon had passed the Arbat more than four hours previously on his\r
+way from the Dorogomilov suburb to the Kremlin, and was now sitting in a\r
+very gloomy frame of mind in a royal study in the Kremlin, giving\r
+detailed and exact orders as to measures to be taken immediately to\r
+extinguish the fire, to prevent looting, and to reassure the\r
+inhabitants. But Pierre did not know this; he was entirely absorbed in\r
+what lay before him, and was tortured--as those are who obstinately\r
+undertake a task that is impossible for them not because of its\r
+difficulty but because of its incompatibility with their natures--by the\r
+fear of weakening at the decisive moment and so losing his self-esteem.\r
+\r
+Though he heard and saw nothing around him he found his way by instinct\r
+and did not go wrong in the side streets that led to the Povarskoy.\r
+\r
+As Pierre approached that street the smoke became denser and denser--he\r
+even felt the heat of the fire. Occasionally curly tongues of flame rose\r
+from under the roofs of the houses. He met more people in the streets\r
+and they were more excited. But Pierre, though he felt that something\r
+unusual was happening around him, did not realize that he was\r
+approaching the fire. As he was going along a foot path across a wide-\r
+open space adjoining the Povarskoy on one side and the gardens of Prince\r
+Gruzinski's house on the other, Pierre suddenly heard the desperate\r
+weeping of a woman close to him. He stopped as if awakening from a dream\r
+and lifted his head.\r
+\r
+By the side of the path, on the dusty dry grass, all sorts of household\r
+goods lay in a heap: featherbeds, a samovar, icons, and trunks. On the\r
+ground, beside the trunks, sat a thin woman no longer young, with long,\r
+prominent upper teeth, and wearing a black cloak and cap. This woman,\r
+swaying to and fro and muttering something, was choking with sobs. Two\r
+girls of about ten and twelve, dressed in dirty short frocks and cloaks,\r
+were staring at their mother with a look of stupefaction on their pale\r
+frightened faces. The youngest child, a boy of about seven, who wore an\r
+overcoat and an immense cap evidently not his own, was crying in his old\r
+nurse's arms. A dirty, barefooted maid was sitting on a trunk, and,\r
+having undone her pale-colored plait, was pulling it straight and\r
+sniffing at her singed hair. The woman's husband, a short, round-\r
+shouldered man in the undress uniform of a civilian official, with\r
+sausage-shaped whiskers and showing under his square-set cap the hair\r
+smoothly brushed forward over his temples, with expressionless face was\r
+moving the trunks, which were placed one on another, and was dragging\r
+some garments from under them.\r
+\r
+As soon as she saw Pierre, the woman almost threw herself at his feet.\r
+\r
+"Dear people, good Christians, save me, help me, dear friends... help\r
+us, somebody," she muttered between her sobs. "My girl... My daughter!\r
+My youngest daughter is left behind. She's burned! Ooh! Was it for this\r
+I nursed you.... Ooh!"\r
+\r
+"Don't, Mary Nikolievna!" said her husband to her in a low voice,\r
+evidently only to justify himself before the stranger. "Sister must have\r
+taken her, or else where can she be?" he added.\r
+\r
+"Monster! Villain!" shouted the woman angrily, suddenly ceasing to weep.\r
+"You have no heart, you don't feel for your own child! Another man would\r
+have rescued her from the fire. But this is a monster and neither a man\r
+nor a father! You, honored sir, are a noble man," she went on,\r
+addressing Pierre rapidly between her sobs. "The fire broke out\r
+alongside, and blew our way, the maid called out 'Fire!' and we rushed\r
+to collect our things. We ran out just as we were.... This is what we\r
+have brought away.... The icons, and my dowry bed, all the rest is lost.\r
+We seized the children. But not Katie! Ooh! O Lord!..." and again she\r
+began to sob. "My child, my dear one! Burned, burned!"\r
+\r
+"But where was she left?" asked Pierre.\r
+\r
+From the expression of his animated face the woman saw that this man\r
+might help her.\r
+\r
+"Oh, dear sir!" she cried, seizing him by the legs. "My benefactor, set\r
+my heart at ease.... Aniska, go, you horrid girl, show him the way!" she\r
+cried to the maid, angrily opening her mouth and still farther exposing\r
+her long teeth.\r
+\r
+"Show me the way, show me, I... I'll do it," gasped Pierre rapidly.\r
+\r
+The dirty maidservant stepped from behind the trunk, put up her plait,\r
+sighed, and went on her short, bare feet along the path. Pierre felt as\r
+if he had come back to life after a heavy swoon. He held his head\r
+higher, his eyes shone with the light of life, and with swift steps he\r
+followed the maid, overtook her, and came out on the Povarskoy. The\r
+whole street was full of clouds of black smoke. Tongues of flame here\r
+and there broke through that cloud. A great number of people crowded in\r
+front of the conflagration. In the middle of the street stood a French\r
+general saying something to those around him. Pierre, accompanied by the\r
+maid, was advancing to the spot where the general stood, but the French\r
+soldiers stopped him.\r
+\r
+"On ne passe pas!" * cried a voice.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "You can't pass!"\r
+\r
+"This way, uncle," cried the girl. "We'll pass through the side street,\r
+by the Nikulins'!"\r
+\r
+Pierre turned back, giving a spring now and then to keep up with her.\r
+She ran across the street, turned down a side street to the left, and,\r
+passing three houses, turned into a yard on the right.\r
+\r
+"It's here, close by," said she and, running across the yard, opened a\r
+gate in a wooden fence and, stopping, pointed out to him a small wooden\r
+wing of the house, which was burning brightly and fiercely. One of its\r
+sides had fallen in, another was on fire, and bright flames issued from\r
+the openings of the windows and from under the roof.\r
+\r
+As Pierre passed through the fence gate, he was enveloped by hot air and\r
+involuntarily stopped.\r
+\r
+"Which is it? Which is your house?" he asked.\r
+\r
+"Ooh!" wailed the girl, pointing to the wing. "That's it, that was our\r
+lodging. You've burned to death, our treasure, Katie, my precious little\r
+missy! Ooh!" lamented Aniska, who at the sight of the fire felt that she\r
+too must give expression to her feelings.\r
+\r
+Pierre rushed to the wing, but the heat was so great that he\r
+involuntarily passed round in a curve and came upon the large house that\r
+was as yet burning only at one end, just below the roof, and around\r
+which swarmed a crowd of Frenchmen. At first Pierre did not realize what\r
+these men, who were dragging something out, were about; but seeing\r
+before him a Frenchman hitting a peasant with a blunt saber and trying\r
+to take from him a fox-fur coat, he vaguely understood that looting was\r
+going on there, but he had no time to dwell on that idea.\r
+\r
+The sounds of crackling and the din of falling walls and ceilings, the\r
+whistle and hiss of the flames, the excited shouts of the people, and\r
+the sight of the swaying smoke, now gathering into thick black clouds\r
+and now soaring up with glittering sparks, with here and there dense\r
+sheaves of flame (now red and now like golden fish scales creeping along\r
+the walls), and the heat and smoke and rapidity of motion, produced on\r
+Pierre the usual animating effects of a conflagration. It had a\r
+peculiarly strong effect on him because at the sight of the fire he felt\r
+himself suddenly freed from the ideas that had weighed him down. He felt\r
+young, bright, adroit, and resolute. He ran round to the other side of\r
+the lodge and was about to dash into that part of it which was still\r
+standing, when just above his head he heard several voices shouting and\r
+then a cracking sound and the ring of something heavy falling close\r
+beside him.\r
+\r
+Pierre looked up and saw at a window of the large house some Frenchmen\r
+who had just thrown out the drawer of a chest, filled with metal\r
+articles. Other French soldiers standing below went up to the drawer.\r
+\r
+"What does this fellow want?" shouted one of them referring to Pierre.\r
+\r
+"There's a child in that house. Haven't you seen a child?" cried Pierre.\r
+\r
+"What's he talking about? Get along!" said several voices, and one of\r
+the soldiers, evidently afraid that Pierre might want to take from them\r
+some of the plate and bronzes that were in the drawer, moved\r
+threateningly toward him.\r
+\r
+"A child?" shouted a Frenchman from above. "I did hear something\r
+squealing in the garden. Perhaps it's his brat that the fellow is\r
+looking for. After all, one must be human, you know...."\r
+\r
+"Where is it? Where?" said Pierre.\r
+\r
+"There! There!" shouted the Frenchman at the window, pointing to the\r
+garden at the back of the house. "Wait a bit--I'm coming down."\r
+\r
+And a minute or two later the Frenchman, a black-eyed fellow with a spot\r
+on his cheek, in shirt sleeves, really did jump out of a window on the\r
+ground floor, and clapping Pierre on the shoulder ran with him into the\r
+garden.\r
+\r
+"Hurry up, you others!" he called out to his comrades. "It's getting\r
+hot."\r
+\r
+When they reached a gravel path behind the house the Frenchman pulled\r
+Pierre by the arm and pointed to a round, graveled space where a three-\r
+year-old girl in a pink dress was lying under a seat.\r
+\r
+"There is your child! Oh, a girl, so much the better!" said the\r
+Frenchman. "Good-bye, Fatty. We must be human, we are all mortal you\r
+know!" and the Frenchman with the spot on his cheek ran back to his\r
+comrades.\r
+\r
+Breathless with joy, Pierre ran to the little girl and was going to take\r
+her in his arms. But seeing a stranger the sickly, scrofulous-looking\r
+child, unattractively like her mother, began to yell and run away.\r
+Pierre, however, seized her and lifted her in his arms. She screamed\r
+desperately and angrily and tried with her little hands to pull Pierre's\r
+hands away and to bite them with her slobbering mouth. Pierre was seized\r
+by a sense of horror and repulsion such as he had experienced when\r
+touching some nasty little animal. But he made an effort not to throw\r
+the child down and ran with her to the large house. It was now, however,\r
+impossible to get back the way he had come; the maid, Aniska, was no\r
+longer there, and Pierre with a feeling of pity and disgust pressed the\r
+wet, painfully sobbing child to himself as tenderly as he could and ran\r
+with her through the garden seeking another way out.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XXXIV\r
+\r
+Having run through different yards and side streets, Pierre got back\r
+with his little burden to the Gruzinski garden at the corner of the\r
+Povarskoy. He did not at first recognize the place from which he had set\r
+out to look for the child, so crowded was it now with people and goods\r
+that had been dragged out of the houses. Besides Russian families who\r
+had taken refuge here from the fire with their belongings, there were\r
+several French soldiers in a variety of clothing. Pierre took no notice\r
+of them. He hurried to find the family of that civil servant in order to\r
+restore the daughter to her mother and go to save someone else. Pierre\r
+felt that he had still much to do and to do quickly. Glowing with the\r
+heat and from running, he felt at that moment more strongly than ever\r
+the sense of youth, animation, and determination that had come on him\r
+when he ran to save the child. She had now become quiet and, clinging\r
+with her little hands to Pierre's coat, sat on his arm gazing about her\r
+like some little wild animal. He glanced at her occasionally with a\r
+slight smile. He fancied he saw something pathetically innocent in that\r
+frightened, sickly little face.\r
+\r
+He did not find the civil servant or his wife where he had left them. He\r
+walked among the crowd with rapid steps, scanning the various faces he\r
+met. Involuntarily he noticed a Georgian or Armenian family consisting\r
+of a very handsome old man of Oriental type, wearing a new, cloth-\r
+covered, sheepskin coat and new boots, an old woman of similar type, and\r
+a young woman. That very young woman seemed to Pierre the perfection of\r
+Oriental beauty, with her sharply outlined, arched, black eyebrows and\r
+the extraordinarily soft, bright color of her long, beautiful,\r
+expressionless face. Amid the scattered property and the crowd on the\r
+open space, she, in her rich satin cloak with a bright lilac shawl on\r
+her head, suggested a delicate exotic plant thrown out onto the snow.\r
+She was sitting on some bundles a little behind the old woman, and\r
+looked from under her long lashes with motionless, large, almond-shaped\r
+eyes at the ground before her. Evidently she was aware of her beauty and\r
+fearful because of it. Her face struck Pierre and, hurrying along by the\r
+fence, he turned several times to look at her. When he had reached the\r
+fence, still without finding those he sought, he stopped and looked\r
+about him.\r
+\r
+With the child in his arms his figure was now more conspicuous than\r
+before, and a group of Russians, both men and women, gathered about him.\r
+\r
+"Have you lost anyone, my dear fellow? You're of the gentry yourself,\r
+aren't you? Whose child is it?" they asked him.\r
+\r
+Pierre replied that the child belonged to a woman in a black coat who\r
+had been sitting there with her other children, and he asked whether\r
+anyone knew where she had gone.\r
+\r
+"Why, that must be the Anferovs," said an old deacon, addressing a\r
+pockmarked peasant woman. "Lord have mercy, Lord have mercy!" he added\r
+in his customary bass.\r
+\r
+"The Anferovs? No," said the woman. "They left in the morning. That must\r
+be either Mary Nikolievna's or the Ivanovs'!"\r
+\r
+"He says 'a woman,' and Mary Nikolievna is a lady," remarked a house\r
+serf.\r
+\r
+"Do you know her? She's thin, with long teeth," said Pierre.\r
+\r
+"That's Mary Nikolievna! They went inside the garden when these wolves\r
+swooped down," said the woman, pointing to the French soldiers.\r
+\r
+"O Lord, have mercy!" added the deacon.\r
+\r
+"Go over that way, they're there. It's she! She kept on lamenting and\r
+crying," continued the woman. "It's she. Here, this way!"\r
+\r
+But Pierre was not listening to the woman. He had for some seconds been\r
+intently watching what was going on a few steps away. He was looking at\r
+the Armenian family and at two French soldiers who had gone up to them.\r
+One of these, a nimble little man, was wearing a blue coat tied round\r
+the waist with a rope. He had a nightcap on his head and his feet were\r
+bare. The other, whose appearance particularly struck Pierre, was a\r
+long, lank, round-shouldered, fair-haired man, slow in his movements and\r
+with an idiotic expression of face. He wore a woman's loose gown of\r
+frieze, blue trousers, and large torn Hessian boots. The little\r
+barefooted Frenchman in the blue coat went up to the Armenians and,\r
+saying something, immediately seized the old man by his legs and the old\r
+man at once began pulling off his boots. The other in the frieze gown\r
+stopped in front of the beautiful Armenian girl and with his hands in\r
+his pockets stood staring at her, motionless and silent.\r
+\r
+"Here, take the child!" said Pierre peremptorily and hurriedly to the\r
+woman, handing the little girl to her. "Give her back to them, give her\r
+back!" he almost shouted, putting the child, who began screaming, on the\r
+ground, and again looking at the Frenchman and the Armenian family.\r
+\r
+The old man was already sitting barefoot. The little Frenchman had\r
+secured his second boot and was slapping one boot against the other. The\r
+old man was saying something in a voice broken by sobs, but Pierre\r
+caught but a glimpse of this, his whole attention was directed to the\r
+Frenchman in the frieze gown who meanwhile, swaying slowly from side to\r
+side, had drawn nearer to the young woman and taking his hands from his\r
+pockets had seized her by the neck.\r
+\r
+The beautiful Armenian still sat motionless and in the same attitude,\r
+with her long lashes drooping as if she did not see or feel what the\r
+soldier was doing to her.\r
+\r
+While Pierre was running the few steps that separated him from the\r
+Frenchman, the tall marauder in the frieze gown was already tearing from\r
+her neck the necklace the young Armenian was wearing, and the young\r
+woman, clutching at her neck, screamed piercingly.\r
+\r
+"Let that woman alone!" exclaimed Pierre hoarsely in a furious voice,\r
+seizing the soldier by his round shoulders and throwing him aside.\r
+\r
+The soldier fell, got up, and ran away. But his comrade, throwing down\r
+the boots and drawing his sword, moved threateningly toward Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Voyons, Pas de betises!" * he cried.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Look here, no nonsense!"\r
+\r
+Pierre was in such a transport of rage that he remembered nothing and\r
+his strength increased tenfold. He rushed at the barefooted Frenchman\r
+and, before the latter had time to draw his sword, knocked him off his\r
+feet and hammered him with his fists. Shouts of approval were heard from\r
+the crowd around, and at the same moment a mounted patrol of French\r
+uhlans appeared from round the corner. The uhlans came up at a trot to\r
+Pierre and the Frenchman and surrounded them. Pierre remembered nothing\r
+of what happened after that. He only remembered beating someone and\r
+being beaten and finally feeling that his hands were bound and that a\r
+crowd of French soldiers stood around him and were searching him.\r
+\r
+"Lieutenant, he has a dagger," were the first words Pierre understood.\r
+\r
+"Ah, a weapon?" said the officer and turned to the barefooted soldier\r
+who had been arrested with Pierre. "All right, you can tell all about it\r
+at the court-martial." Then he turned to Pierre. "Do you speak French?"\r
+\r
+Pierre looked around him with bloodshot eyes and did not reply. His face\r
+probably looked very terrible, for the officer said something in a\r
+whisper and four more uhlans left the ranks and placed themselves on\r
+both sides of Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Do you speak French?" the officer asked again, keeping at a distance\r
+from Pierre. "Call the interpreter."\r
+\r
+A little man in Russian civilian clothes rode out from the ranks, and by\r
+his clothes and manner of speaking Pierre at once knew him to be a\r
+French salesman from one of the Moscow shops.\r
+\r
+"He does not look like a common man," said the interpreter, after a\r
+searching look at Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Ah, he looks very much like an incendiary," remarked the officer. "And\r
+ask him who he is," he added.\r
+\r
+"Who are you?" asked the interpreter in poor Russian. "You must answer\r
+the chief."\r
+\r
+"I will not tell you who I am. I am your prisoner--take me!" Pierre\r
+suddenly replied in French.\r
+\r
+"Ah, ah!" muttered the officer with a frown. "Well then, march!"\r
+\r
+A crowd had collected round the uhlans. Nearest to Pierre stood the\r
+pockmarked peasant woman with the little girl, and when the patrol\r
+started she moved forward.\r
+\r
+"Where are they taking you to, you poor dear?" said she. "And the little\r
+girl, the little girl, what am I to do with her if she's not theirs?"\r
+said the woman.\r
+\r
+"What does that woman want?" asked the officer.\r
+\r
+Pierre was as if intoxicated. His elation increased at the sight of the\r
+little girl he had saved.\r
+\r
+"What does she want?" he murmured. "She is bringing me my daughter whom\r
+I have just saved from the flames," said he. "Good-bye!" And without\r
+knowing how this aimless lie had escaped him, he went along with\r
+resolute and triumphant steps between the French soldiers.\r
+\r
+The French patrol was one of those sent out through the various streets\r
+of Moscow by Durosnel's order to put a stop to the pillage, and\r
+especially to catch the incendiaries who, according to the general\r
+opinion which had that day originated among the higher French officers,\r
+were the cause of the conflagrations. After marching through a number of\r
+streets the patrol arrested five more Russian suspects: a small\r
+shopkeeper, two seminary students, a peasant, and a house serf, besides\r
+several looters. But of all these various suspected characters, Pierre\r
+was considered to be the most suspicious of all. When they had all been\r
+brought for the night to a large house on the Zubov Rampart that was\r
+being used as a guardhouse, Pierre was placed apart under strict guard.\r
+\r
+BOOK TWELVE: 1812\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+In Petersburg at that time a complicated struggle was being carried on\r
+with greater heat than ever in the highest circles, between the parties\r
+of Rumyantsev, the French, Marya Fedorovna, the Tsarevich, and others,\r
+drowned as usual by the buzzing of the court drones. But the calm,\r
+luxurious life of Petersburg, concerned only about phantoms and\r
+reflections of real life, went on in its old way and made it hard,\r
+except by a great effort, to realize the danger and the difficult\r
+position of the Russian people. There were the same receptions and\r
+balls, the same French theater, the same court interests and service\r
+interests and intrigues as usual. Only in the very highest circles were\r
+attempts made to keep in mind the difficulties of the actual position.\r
+Stories were whispered of how differently the two Empresses behaved in\r
+these difficult circumstances. The Empress Marya, concerned for the\r
+welfare of the charitable and educational institutions under her\r
+patronage, had given directions that they should all be removed to\r
+Kazan, and the things belonging to these institutions had already been\r
+packed up. The Empress Elisabeth, however, when asked what instructions\r
+she would be pleased to give--with her characteristic Russian patriotism\r
+had replied that she could give no directions about state institutions\r
+for that was the affair of the sovereign, but as far as she personally\r
+was concerned she would be the last to quit Petersburg.\r
+\r
+At Anna Pavlovna's on the twenty-sixth of August, the very day of the\r
+battle of Borodino, there was a soiree, the chief feature of which was\r
+to be the reading of a letter from His Lordship the Bishop when sending\r
+the Emperor an icon of the Venerable Sergius. It was regarded as a model\r
+of ecclesiastical, patriotic eloquence. Prince Vasili himself, famed for\r
+his elocution, was to read it. (He used to read at the Empress'.) The\r
+art of his reading was supposed to lie in rolling out the words, quite\r
+independently of their meaning, in a loud and singsong voice alternating\r
+between a despairing wail and a tender murmur, so that the wail fell\r
+quite at random on one word and the murmur on another. This reading, as\r
+was always the case at Anna Pavlovna's soirees, had a political\r
+significance. That evening she expected several important personages who\r
+had to be made ashamed of their visits to the French theater and aroused\r
+to a patriotic temper. A good many people had already arrived, but Anna\r
+Pavlovna, not yet seeing all those whom she wanted in her drawing room,\r
+did not let the reading begin but wound up the springs of a general\r
+conversation.\r
+\r
+The news of the day in Petersburg was the illness of Countess Bezukhova.\r
+She had fallen ill unexpectedly a few days previously, had missed\r
+several gatherings of which she was usually ornament, and was said to be\r
+receiving no one, and instead of the celebrated Petersburg doctors who\r
+usually attended her had entrusted herself to some Italian doctor who\r
+was treating her in some new and unusual way.\r
+\r
+They all knew very well that the enchanting countess' illness arose from\r
+an inconvenience resulting from marrying two husbands at the same time,\r
+and that the Italian's cure consisted in removing such inconvenience;\r
+but in Anna Pavlovna's presence no one dared to think of this or even\r
+appear to know it.\r
+\r
+"They say the poor countess is very ill. The doctor says it is angina\r
+pectoris."\r
+\r
+"Angina? Oh, that's a terrible illness!"\r
+\r
+"They say that the rivals are reconciled, thanks to the angina..." and\r
+the word angina was repeated with great satisfaction.\r
+\r
+"The count is pathetic, they say. He cried like a child when the doctor\r
+told him the case was dangerous."\r
+\r
+"Oh, it would be a terrible loss, she is an enchanting woman."\r
+\r
+"You are speaking of the poor countess?" said Anna Pavlovna, coming up\r
+just then. "I sent to ask for news, and hear that she is a little\r
+better. Oh, she is certainly the most charming woman in the world," she\r
+went on, with a smile at her own enthusiasm. "We belong to different\r
+camps, but that does not prevent my esteeming her as she deserves. She\r
+is very unfortunate!" added Anna Pavlovna.\r
+\r
+Supposing that by these words Anna Pavlovna was somewhat lifting the\r
+veil from the secret of the countess' malady, an unwary young man\r
+ventured to express surprise that well known doctors had not been called\r
+in and that the countess was being attended by a charlatan who might\r
+employ dangerous remedies.\r
+\r
+"Your information may be better than mine," Anna Pavlovna suddenly and\r
+venomously retorted on the inexperienced young man, "but I know on good\r
+authority that this doctor is a very learned and able man. He is private\r
+physician to the Queen of Spain."\r
+\r
+And having thus demolished the young man, Anna Pavlovna turned to\r
+another group where Bilibin was talking about the Austrians: having\r
+wrinkled up his face he was evidently preparing to smooth it out again\r
+and utter one of his mots.\r
+\r
+"I think it is delightful," he said, referring to a diplomatic note that\r
+had been sent to Vienna with some Austrian banners captured from the\r
+French by Wittgenstein, "the hero of Petropol" as he was then called in\r
+Petersburg.\r
+\r
+"What? What's that?" asked Anna Pavlovna, securing silence for the mot,\r
+which she had heard before.\r
+\r
+And Bilibin repeated the actual words of the diplomatic dispatch, which\r
+he had himself composed.\r
+\r
+"The Emperor returns these Austrian banners," said Bilibin, "friendly\r
+banners gone astray and found on a wrong path," and his brow became\r
+smooth again.\r
+\r
+"Charming, charming!" observed Prince Vasili.\r
+\r
+"The path to Warsaw, perhaps," Prince Hippolyte remarked loudly and\r
+unexpectedly. Everybody looked at him, understanding what he meant.\r
+Prince Hippolyte himself glanced around with amused surprise. He knew no\r
+more than the others what his words meant. During his diplomatic career\r
+he had more than once noticed that such utterances were received as very\r
+witty, and at every opportunity he uttered in that way the first words\r
+that entered his head. "It may turn out very well," he thought, "but if\r
+not, they'll know how to arrange matters." And really, during the\r
+awkward silence that ensued, that insufficiently patriotic person\r
+entered whom Anna Pavlovna had been waiting for and wished to convert,\r
+and she, smiling and shaking a finger at Hippolyte, invited Prince\r
+Vasili to the table and bringing him two candles and the manuscript\r
+begged him to begin. Everyone became silent.\r
+\r
+"Most Gracious Sovereign and Emperor!" Prince Vasili sternly declaimed,\r
+looking round at his audience as if to inquire whether anyone had\r
+anything to say to the contrary. But no one said anything. "Moscow, our\r
+ancient capital, the New Jerusalem, receives her Christ"--he placed a\r
+sudden emphasis on the word her--"as a mother receives her zealous sons\r
+into her arms, and through the gathering mists, foreseeing the brilliant\r
+glory of thy rule, sings in exultation, 'Hosanna, blessed is he that\r
+cometh!'"\r
+\r
+Prince Vasili pronounced these last words in a tearful voice.\r
+\r
+Bilibin attentively examined his nails, and many of those present\r
+appeared intimidated, as if asking in what they were to blame. Anna\r
+Pavlovna whispered the next words in advance, like an old woman\r
+muttering the prayer at Communion: "Let the bold and insolent\r
+Goliath..." she whispered.\r
+\r
+Prince Vasili continued.\r
+\r
+"Let the bold and insolent Goliath from the borders of France encompass\r
+the realms of Russia with death-bearing terrors; humble Faith, the sling\r
+of the Russian David, shall suddenly smite his head in his bloodthirsty\r
+pride. This icon of the Venerable Sergius, the servant of God and\r
+zealous champion of old of our country's weal, is offered to Your\r
+Imperial Majesty. I grieve that my waning strength prevents rejoicing in\r
+the sight of your most gracious presence. I raise fervent prayers to\r
+Heaven that the Almighty may exalt the race of the just, and mercifully\r
+fulfill the desires of Your Majesty."\r
+\r
+"What force! What a style!" was uttered in approval both of reader and\r
+of author.\r
+\r
+Animated by that address Anna Pavlovna's guests talked for a long time\r
+of the state of the fatherland and offered various conjectures as to the\r
+result of the battle to be fought in a few days.\r
+\r
+"You will see," said Anna Pavlovna, "that tomorrow, on the Emperor's\r
+birthday, we shall receive news. I have a favorable presentiment!"\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+Anna Pavlovna's presentiment was in fact fulfilled. Next day during the\r
+service at the palace church in honor of the Emperor's birthday, Prince\r
+Volkonski was called out of the church and received a dispatch from\r
+Prince Kutuzov. It was Kutuzov's report, written from Tatarinova on the\r
+day of the battle. Kutuzov wrote that the Russians had not retreated a\r
+step, that the French losses were much heavier than ours, and that he\r
+was writing in haste from the field of battle before collecting full\r
+information. It followed that there must have been a victory. And at\r
+once, without leaving the church, thanks were rendered to the Creator\r
+for His help and for the victory.\r
+\r
+Anna Pavlovna's presentiment was justified, and all that morning a\r
+joyously festive mood reigned in the city. Everyone believed the victory\r
+to have been complete, and some even spoke of Napoleon's having been\r
+captured, of his deposition, and of the choice of a new ruler for\r
+France.\r
+\r
+It is very difficult for events to be reflected in their real strength\r
+and completeness amid the conditions of court life and far from the\r
+scene of action. General events involuntarily group themselves around\r
+some particular incident. So now the courtiers' pleasure was based as\r
+much on the fact that the news had arrived on the Emperor's birthday as\r
+on the fact of the victory itself. It was like a successfully arranged\r
+surprise. Mention was made in Kutuzov's report of the Russian losses,\r
+among which figured the names of Tuchkov, Bagration, and Kutaysov. In\r
+the Petersburg world this sad side of the affair again involuntarily\r
+centered round a single incident: Kutaysov's death. Everybody knew him,\r
+the Emperor liked him, and he was young and interesting. That day\r
+everyone met with the words:\r
+\r
+"What a wonderful coincidence! Just during the service. But what a loss\r
+Kutaysov is! How sorry I am!"\r
+\r
+"What did I tell about Kutuzov?" Prince Vasili now said with a prophet's\r
+pride. "I always said he was the only man capable of defeating\r
+Napoleon."\r
+\r
+But next day no news arrived from the army and the public mood grew\r
+anxious. The courtiers suffered because of the suffering the suspense\r
+occasioned the Emperor.\r
+\r
+"Fancy the Emperor's position!" said they, and instead of extolling\r
+Kutuzov as they had done the day before, they condemned him as the cause\r
+of the Emperor's anxiety. That day Prince Vasili no longer boasted of\r
+his protege Kutuzov, but remained silent when the commander-in-chief was\r
+mentioned. Moreover, toward evening, as if everything conspired to make\r
+Petersburg society anxious and uneasy, a terrible piece of news was\r
+added. Countess Helene Bezukhova had suddenly died of that terrible\r
+malady it had been so agreeable to mention. Officially, at large\r
+gatherings, everyone said that Countess Bezukhova had died of a terrible\r
+attack of angina pectoris, but in intimate circles details were\r
+mentioned of how the private physician of the Queen of Spain had\r
+prescribed small doses of a certain drug to produce a certain effect;\r
+but Helene, tortured by the fact that the old count suspected her and\r
+that her husband to whom she had written (that wretched, profligate\r
+Pierre) had not replied, had suddenly taken a very large dose of the\r
+drug, and had died in agony before assistance could be rendered her. It\r
+was said that Prince Vasili and the old count had turned upon the\r
+Italian, but the latter had produced such letters from the unfortunate\r
+deceased that they had immediately let the matter drop.\r
+\r
+Talk in general centered round three melancholy facts: the Emperor's\r
+lack of news, the loss of Kutuzov, and the death of Helene.\r
+\r
+On the third day after Kutuzov's report a country gentleman arrived from\r
+Moscow, and news of the surrender of Moscow to the French spread through\r
+the whole town. This was terrible! What a position for the Emperor to be\r
+in! Kutuzov was a traitor, and Prince Vasili during the visits of\r
+condolence paid to him on the occasion of his daughter's death said of\r
+Kutuzov, whom he had formerly praised (it was excusable for him in his\r
+grief to forget what he had said), that it was impossible to expect\r
+anything else from a blind and depraved old man.\r
+\r
+"I only wonder that the fate of Russia could have been entrusted to such\r
+a man."\r
+\r
+As long as this news remained unofficial it was possible to doubt it,\r
+but the next day the following communication was received from Count\r
+Rostopchin:\r
+\r
+Prince Kutuzov's adjutant has brought me a letter in which he demands\r
+police officers to guide the army to the Ryazan road. He writes that he\r
+is regretfully abandoning Moscow. Sire! Kutuzov's action decides the\r
+fate of the capital and of your empire! Russia will shudder to learn of\r
+the abandonment of the city in which her greatness is centered and in\r
+which lie the ashes of your ancestors! I shall follow the army. I have\r
+had everything removed, and it only remains for me to weep over the fate\r
+of my fatherland.\r
+\r
+On receiving this dispatch the Emperor sent Prince Volkonski to Kutuzov\r
+with the following rescript:\r
+\r
+Prince Michael Ilarionovich! Since the twenty-ninth of August I have\r
+received no communication from you, yet on the first of September I\r
+received from the commander-in-chief of Moscow, via Yaroslavl, the sad\r
+news that you, with the army, have decided to abandon Moscow. You can\r
+yourself imagine the effect this news has had on me, and your silence\r
+increases my astonishment. I am sending this by Adjutant-General Prince\r
+Volkonski, to hear from you the situation of the army and the reasons\r
+that have induced you to take this melancholy decision.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+Nine days after the abandonment of Moscow, a messenger from Kutuzov\r
+reached Petersburg with the official announcement of that event. This\r
+messenger was Michaud, a Frenchman who did not know Russian, but who was\r
+quoique etranger, russe de coeur et d'ame, * as he said of himself.\r
+\r
+\r
+* Though a foreigner, Russian in heart and soul.\r
+\r
+The Emperor at once received this messenger in his study at the palace\r
+on Stone Island. Michaud, who had never seen Moscow before the campaign\r
+and who did not know Russian, yet felt deeply moved (as he wrote) when\r
+he appeared before notre tres gracieux souverain * with the news of the\r
+burning of Moscow, dont les flammes eclairaient sa route. *(2)\r
+\r
+\r
+* Our most gracious sovereign.\r
+\r
+* (2) Whose flames illumined his route.\r
+\r
+Though the source of M. Michaud's chagrin must have been different from\r
+that which caused Russians to grieve, he had such a sad face when shown\r
+into the Emperor's study that the latter at once asked:\r
+\r
+"Have you brought me sad news, Colonel?"\r
+\r
+"Very sad, sire," replied Michaud, lowering his eyes with a sigh. "The\r
+abandonment of Moscow."\r
+\r
+"Have they surrendered my ancient capital without a battle?" asked the\r
+Emperor quickly, his face suddenly flushing.\r
+\r
+Michaud respectfully delivered the message Kutuzov had entrusted to him,\r
+which was that it had been impossible to fight before Moscow, and that\r
+as the only remaining choice was between losing the army as well as\r
+Moscow, or losing Moscow alone, the field marshal had to choose the\r
+latter.\r
+\r
+The Emperor listened in silence, not looking at Michaud.\r
+\r
+"Has the enemy entered the city?" he asked.\r
+\r
+"Yes, sire, and Moscow is now in ashes. I left it all in flames,"\r
+replied Michaud in a decided tone, but glancing at the Emperor he was\r
+frightened by what he had done.\r
+\r
+The Emperor began to breathe heavily and rapidly, his lower lip\r
+trembled, and tears instantly appeared in his fine blue eyes.\r
+\r
+But this lasted only a moment. He suddenly frowned, as if blaming\r
+himself for his weakness, and raising his head addressed Michaud in a\r
+firm voice:\r
+\r
+"I see, Colonel, from all that is happening, that Providence requires\r
+great sacrifices of us... I am ready to submit myself in all things to\r
+His will; but tell me, Michaud, how did you leave the army when it saw\r
+my ancient capital abandoned without a battle? Did you not notice\r
+discouragement?..."\r
+\r
+Seeing that his most gracious ruler was calm once more, Michaud also\r
+grew calm, but was not immediately ready to reply to the Emperor's\r
+direct and relevant question which required a direct answer.\r
+\r
+"Sire, will you allow me to speak frankly as befits a loyal soldier?" he\r
+asked to gain time.\r
+\r
+"Colonel, I always require it," replied the Emperor. "Conceal nothing\r
+from me, I wish to know absolutely how things are."\r
+\r
+"Sire!" said Michaud with a subtle, scarcely perceptible smile on his\r
+lips, having now prepared a well-phrased reply, "sire, I left the whole\r
+army, from its chiefs to the lowest soldier, without exception in\r
+desperate and agonized terror..."\r
+\r
+"How is that?" the Emperor interrupted him, frowning sternly. "Would\r
+misfortune make my Russians lose heart?... Never!"\r
+\r
+Michaud had only waited for this to bring out the phrase he had\r
+prepared.\r
+\r
+"Sire," he said, with respectful playfulness, "they are only afraid lest\r
+Your Majesty, in the goodness of your heart, should allow yourself to be\r
+persuaded to make peace. They are burning for the combat," declared this\r
+representative of the Russian nation, "and to prove to Your Majesty by\r
+the sacrifice of their lives how devoted they are...."\r
+\r
+"Ah!" said the Emperor reassured, and with a kindly gleam in his eyes,\r
+he patted Michaud on the shoulder. "You set me at ease, Colonel."\r
+\r
+He bent his head and was silent for some time.\r
+\r
+"Well, then, go back to the army," he said, drawing himself up to his\r
+full height and addressing Michaud with a gracious and majestic gesture,\r
+"and tell our brave men and all my good subjects wherever you go that\r
+when I have not a soldier left I shall put myself at the head of my\r
+beloved nobility and my good peasants and so use the last resources of\r
+my empire. It still offers me more than my enemies suppose," said the\r
+Emperor growing more and more animated; "but should it ever be ordained\r
+by Divine Providence," he continued, raising to heaven his fine eyes\r
+shining with emotion, "that my dynasty should cease to reign on the\r
+throne of my ancestors, then after exhausting all the means at my\r
+command, I shall let my beard grow to here" (he pointed halfway down his\r
+chest) "and go and eat potatoes with the meanest of my peasants, rather\r
+than sign the disgrace of my country and of my beloved people whose\r
+sacrifices I know how to appreciate."\r
+\r
+Having uttered these words in an agitated voice the Emperor suddenly\r
+turned away as if to hide from Michaud the tears that rose to his eyes,\r
+and went to the further end of his study. Having stood there a few\r
+moments, he strode back to Michaud and pressed his arm below the elbow\r
+with a vigorous movement. The Emperor's mild and handsome face was\r
+flushed and his eyes gleamed with resolution and anger.\r
+\r
+"Colonel Michaud, do not forget what I say to you here, perhaps we may\r
+recall it with pleasure someday... Napoleon or I," said the Emperor,\r
+touching his breast. "We can no longer both reign together. I have\r
+learned to know him, and he will not deceive me any more...."\r
+\r
+And the Emperor paused, with a frown.\r
+\r
+When he heard these words and saw the expression of firm resolution in\r
+the Emperor's eyes, Michaud--quoique etranger, russe de coeur et d'ame--\r
+at that solemn moment felt himself enraptured by all that he had heard\r
+(as he used afterwards to say), and gave expression to his own feelings\r
+and those of the Russian people whose representative he considered\r
+himself to be, in the following words:\r
+\r
+"Sire!" said he, "Your Majesty is at this moment signing the glory of\r
+the nation and the salvation of Europe!"\r
+\r
+With an inclination of the head the Emperor dismissed him.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+It is natural for us who were not living in those days to imagine that\r
+when half Russia had been conquered and the inhabitants were fleeing to\r
+distant provinces, and one levy after another was being raised for the\r
+defense of the fatherland, all Russians from the greatest to the least\r
+were solely engaged in sacrificing themselves, saving their fatherland,\r
+or weeping over its downfall. The tales and descriptions of that time\r
+without exception speak only of the self-sacrifice, patriotic devotion,\r
+despair, grief, and the heroism of the Russians. But it was not really\r
+so. It appears so to us because we see only the general historic\r
+interest of that time and do not see all the personal human interests\r
+that people had. Yet in reality those personal interests of the moment\r
+so much transcend the general interests that they always prevent the\r
+public interest from being felt or even noticed. Most of the people at\r
+that time paid no attention to the general progress of events but were\r
+guided only by their private interests, and they were the very people\r
+whose activities at that period were most useful.\r
+\r
+Those who tried to understand the general course of events and to take\r
+part in it by self-sacrifice and heroism were the most useless members\r
+of society, they saw everything upside down, and all they did for the\r
+common good turned out to be useless and foolish--like Pierre's and\r
+Mamonov's regiments which looted Russian villages, and the lint the\r
+young ladies prepared and that never reached the wounded, and so on.\r
+Even those, fond of intellectual talk and of expressing their feelings,\r
+who discussed Russia's position at the time involuntarily introduced\r
+into their conversation either a shade of pretense and falsehood or\r
+useless condemnation and anger directed against people accused of\r
+actions no one could possibly be guilty of. In historic events the rule\r
+forbidding us to eat of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge is specially\r
+applicable. Only unconscious action bears fruit, and he who plays a part\r
+in an historic event never understands its significance. If he tries to\r
+realize it his efforts are fruitless.\r
+\r
+The more closely a man was engaged in the events then taking place in\r
+Russia the less did he realize their significance. In Petersburg and in\r
+the provinces at a distance from Moscow, ladies, and gentlemen in\r
+militia uniforms, wept for Russia and its ancient capital and talked of\r
+self-sacrifice and so on; but in the army which retired beyond Moscow\r
+there was little talk or thought of Moscow, and when they caught sight\r
+of its burned ruins no one swore to be avenged on the French, but they\r
+thought about their next pay, their next quarters, of Matreshka the\r
+vivandiere, and like matters.\r
+\r
+As the war had caught him in the service, Nicholas Rostov took a close\r
+and prolonged part in the defense of his country, but did so casually,\r
+without any aim at self-sacrifice, and he therefore looked at what was\r
+going on in Russia without despair and without dismally racking his\r
+brains over it. Had he been asked what he thought of the state of\r
+Russia, he would have said that it was not his business to think about\r
+it, that Kutuzov and others were there for that purpose, but that he had\r
+heard that the regiments were to be made up to their full strength, that\r
+fighting would probably go on for a long time yet, and that things being\r
+so it was quite likely he might be in command of a regiment in a couple\r
+of years' time.\r
+\r
+As he looked at the matter in this way, he learned that he was being\r
+sent to Voronezh to buy remounts for his division, not only without\r
+regret at being prevented from taking part in the coming battle, but\r
+with the greatest pleasure--which he did not conceal and which his\r
+comrades fully understood.\r
+\r
+A few days before the battle of Borodino, Nicholas received the\r
+necessary money and warrants, and having sent some hussars on in\r
+advance, he set out with post horses for Voronezh.\r
+\r
+Only a man who has experienced it--that is, has passed some months\r
+continuously in an atmosphere of campaigning and war--can understand the\r
+delight Nicholas felt when he escaped from the region covered by the\r
+army's foraging operations, provision trains, and hospitals. When--free\r
+from soldiers, wagons, and the filthy traces of a camp--he saw villages\r
+with peasants and peasant women, gentlemen's country houses, fields\r
+where cattle were grazing, posthouses with stationmasters asleep in\r
+them, he rejoiced as though seeing all this for the first time. What for\r
+a long while specially surprised and delighted him were the women, young\r
+and healthy, without a dozen officers making up to each of them; women,\r
+too, who were pleased and flattered that a passing officer should joke\r
+with them.\r
+\r
+In the highest spirits Nicholas arrived at night at a hotel in Voronezh,\r
+ordered things he had long been deprived of in camp, and next day, very\r
+clean-shaven and in a full-dress uniform he had not worn for a long\r
+time, went to present himself to the authorities.\r
+\r
+The commander of the militia was a civilian general, an old man who was\r
+evidently pleased with his military designation and rank. He received\r
+Nicholas brusquely (imagining this to be characteristically military)\r
+and questioned him with an important air, as if considering the general\r
+progress of affairs and approving and disapproving with full right to do\r
+so. Nicholas was in such good spirits that this merely amused him.\r
+\r
+From the commander of the militia he drove to the governor. The governor\r
+was a brisk little man, very simple and affable. He indicated the stud\r
+farms at which Nicholas might procure horses, recommended to him a horse\r
+dealer in the town and a landowner fourteen miles out of town who had\r
+the best horses, and promised to assist him in every way.\r
+\r
+"You are Count Ilya Rostov's son? My wife was a great friend of your\r
+mother's. We are at home on Thursdays--today is Thursday, so please come\r
+and see us quite informally," said the governor, taking leave of him.\r
+\r
+Immediately on leaving the governor's, Nicholas hired post horses and,\r
+taking his squadron quartermaster with him, drove at a gallop to the\r
+landowner, fourteen miles away, who had the stud. Everything seemed to\r
+him pleasant and easy during that first part of his stay in Voronezh\r
+and, as usually happens when a man is in a pleasant state of mind,\r
+everything went well and easily.\r
+\r
+The landowner to whom Nicholas went was a bachelor, an old cavalryman, a\r
+horse fancier, a sportsman, the possessor of some century-old brandy and\r
+some old Hungarian wine, who had a snuggery where he smoked, and who\r
+owned some splendid horses.\r
+\r
+In very few words Nicholas bought seventeen picked stallions for six\r
+thousand rubles--to serve, as he said, as samples of his remounts. After\r
+dining and taking rather too much of the Hungarian wine, Nicholas--\r
+having exchanged kisses with the landowner, with whom he was already on\r
+the friendliest terms--galloped back over abominable roads, in the\r
+brightest frame of mind, continually urging on the driver so as to be in\r
+time for the governor's party.\r
+\r
+When he had changed, poured water over his head, and scented himself,\r
+Nicholas arrived at the governor's rather late, but with the phrase\r
+"better late than never" on his lips.\r
+\r
+It was not a ball, nor had dancing been announced, but everyone knew\r
+that Catherine Petrovna would play valses and the ecossaise on the\r
+clavichord and that there would be dancing, and so everyone had come as\r
+to a ball.\r
+\r
+Provincial life in 1812 went on very much as usual, but with this\r
+difference, that it was livelier in the towns in consequence of the\r
+arrival of many wealthy families from Moscow, and as in everything that\r
+went on in Russia at that time a special recklessness was noticeable, an\r
+"in for a penny, in for a pound--who cares?" spirit, and the inevitable\r
+small talk, instead of turning on the weather and mutual acquaintances,\r
+now turned on Moscow, the army, and Napoleon.\r
+\r
+The society gathered together at the governor's was the best in\r
+Voronezh.\r
+\r
+There were a great many ladies and some of Nicholas' Moscow\r
+acquaintances, but there were no men who could at all vie with the\r
+cavalier of St. George, the hussar remount officer, the good-natured and\r
+well-bred Count Rostov. Among the men was an Italian prisoner, an\r
+officer of the French army; and Nicholas felt that the presence of that\r
+prisoner enhanced his own importance as a Russian hero. The Italian was,\r
+as it were, a war trophy. Nicholas felt this, it seemed to him that\r
+everyone regarded the Italian in the same light, and he treated him\r
+cordially though with dignity and restraint.\r
+\r
+As soon as Nicholas entered in his hussar uniform, diffusing around him\r
+a fragrance of perfume and wine, and had uttered the words "better late\r
+than never" and heard them repeated several times by others, people\r
+clustered around him; all eyes turned on him, and he felt at once that\r
+he had entered into his proper position in the province--that of a\r
+universal favorite: a very pleasant position, and intoxicatingly so\r
+after his long privations. At posting stations, at inns, and in the\r
+landowner's snuggery, maidservants had been flattered by his notice, and\r
+here too at the governor's party there were (as it seemed to Nicholas)\r
+an inexhaustible number of pretty young women, married and unmarried,\r
+impatiently awaiting his notice. The women and girls flirted with him\r
+and, from the first day, the people concerned themselves to get this\r
+fine young daredevil of an hussar married and settled down. Among these\r
+was the governor's wife herself, who welcomed Rostov as a near relative\r
+and called him "Nicholas."\r
+\r
+Catherine Petrovna did actually play valses and the ecossaise, and\r
+dancing began in which Nicholas still further captivated the provincial\r
+society by his agility. His particularly free manner of dancing even\r
+surprised them all. Nicholas was himself rather surprised at the way he\r
+danced that evening. He had never danced like that in Moscow and would\r
+even have considered such a very free and easy manner improper and in\r
+bad form, but here he felt it incumbent on him to astonish them all by\r
+something unusual, something they would have to accept as the regular\r
+thing in the capital though new to them in the provinces.\r
+\r
+All the evening Nicholas paid attention to a blue-eyed, plump and\r
+pleasing little blonde, the wife of one of the provincial officials.\r
+With the naive conviction of young men in a merry mood that other men's\r
+wives were created for them, Rostov did not leave the lady's side and\r
+treated her husband in a friendly and conspiratorial style, as if,\r
+without speaking of it, they knew how capitally Nicholas and the lady\r
+would get on together. The husband, however, did not seem to share that\r
+conviction and tried to behave morosely with Rostov. But the latter's\r
+good-natured naivete was so boundless that sometimes even he\r
+involuntarily yielded to Nicholas' good humor. Toward the end of the\r
+evening, however, as the wife's face grew more flushed and animated, the\r
+husband's became more and more melancholy and solemn, as though there\r
+were but a given amount of animation between them and as the wife's\r
+share increased the husband's diminished.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+Nicholas sat leaning slightly forward in an armchair, bending closely\r
+over the blonde lady and paying her mythological compliments with a\r
+smile that never left his face. Jauntily shifting the position of his\r
+legs in their tight riding breeches, diffusing an odor of perfume, and\r
+admiring his partner, himself, and the fine outlines of his legs in\r
+their well-fitting Hessian boots, Nicholas told the blonde lady that he\r
+wished to run away with a certain lady here in Voronezh.\r
+\r
+"Which lady?"\r
+\r
+"A charming lady, a divine one. Her eyes" (Nicholas looked at his\r
+partner) "are blue, her mouth coral and ivory; her figure" (he glanced\r
+at her shoulders) "like Diana's...."\r
+\r
+The husband came up and sullenly asked his wife what she was talking\r
+about.\r
+\r
+"Ah, Nikita Ivanych!" cried Nicholas, rising politely, and as if wishing\r
+Nikita Ivanych to share his joke, he began to tell him of his intention\r
+to elope with a blonde lady.\r
+\r
+The husband smiled gloomily, the wife gaily. The governor's good-natured\r
+wife came up with a look of disapproval.\r
+\r
+"Anna Ignatyevna wants to see you, Nicholas," said she, pronouncing the\r
+name so that Nicholas at once understood that Anna Ignatyevna was a very\r
+important person. "Come, Nicholas! You know you let me call you so?"\r
+\r
+"Oh, yes, Aunt. Who is she?"\r
+\r
+"Anna Ignatyevna Malvintseva. She has heard from her niece how you\r
+rescued her... Can you guess?"\r
+\r
+"I rescued such a lot of them!" said Nicholas.\r
+\r
+"Her niece, Princess Bolkonskaya. She is here in Voronezh with her aunt.\r
+Oho! How you blush. Why, are...?"\r
+\r
+"Not a bit! Please don't, Aunt!"\r
+\r
+"Very well, very well!... Oh, what a fellow you are!"\r
+\r
+The governor's wife led him up to a tall and very stout old lady with a\r
+blue headdress, who had just finished her game of cards with the most\r
+important personages of the town. This was Malvintseva, Princess Mary's\r
+aunt on her mother's side, a rich, childless widow who always lived in\r
+Voronezh. When Rostov approached her she was standing settling up for\r
+the game. She looked at him and, screwing up her eyes sternly, continued\r
+to upbraid the general who had won from her.\r
+\r
+"Very pleased, mon cher," she then said, holding out her hand to\r
+Nicholas. "Pray come and see me."\r
+\r
+After a few words about Princess Mary and her late father, whom\r
+Malvintseva had evidently not liked, and having asked what Nicholas knew\r
+of Prince Andrew, who also was evidently no favorite of hers, the\r
+important old lady dismissed Nicholas after repeating her invitation to\r
+come to see her.\r
+\r
+Nicholas promised to come and blushed again as he bowed. At the mention\r
+of Princess Mary he experienced a feeling of shyness and even of fear,\r
+which he himself did not understand.\r
+\r
+When he had parted from Malvintseva Nicholas wished to return to the\r
+dancing, but the governor's little wife placed her plump hand on his\r
+sleeve and, saying that she wanted to have a talk with him, led him to\r
+her sitting room, from which those who were there immediately withdrew\r
+so as not to be in her way.\r
+\r
+"Do you know, dear boy," began the governor's wife with a serious\r
+expression on her kind little face, "that really would be the match for\r
+you: would you like me to arrange it?"\r
+\r
+"Whom do you mean, Aunt?" asked Nicholas.\r
+\r
+"I will make a match for you with the princess. Catherine Petrovna\r
+speaks of Lily, but I say, no--the princess! Do you want me to do it? I\r
+am sure your mother will be grateful to me. What a charming girl she is,\r
+really! And she is not at all so plain, either."\r
+\r
+"Not at all," replied Nicholas as if offended at the idea. "As befits a\r
+soldier, Aunt, I don't force myself on anyone or refuse anything," he\r
+said before he had time to consider what he was saying.\r
+\r
+"Well then, remember, this is not a joke!"\r
+\r
+"Of course not!"\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes," the governor's wife said as if talking to herself. "But, my\r
+dear boy, among other things you are too attentive to the other, the\r
+blonde. One is sorry for the husband, really...."\r
+\r
+"Oh no, we are good friends with him," said Nicholas in the simplicity\r
+of his heart; it did not enter his head that a pastime so pleasant to\r
+himself might not be pleasant to someone else.\r
+\r
+"But what nonsense I have been saying to the governor's wife!" thought\r
+Nicholas suddenly at supper. "She will really begin to arrange a\r
+match... and Sonya...?" And on taking leave of the governor's wife, when\r
+she again smilingly said to him, "Well then, remember!" he drew her\r
+aside.\r
+\r
+"But see here, to tell the truth, Aunt..."\r
+\r
+"What is it, my dear? Come, let's sit down here," said she.\r
+\r
+Nicholas suddenly felt a desire and need to tell his most intimate\r
+thoughts (which he would not have told to his mother, his sister, or his\r
+friend) to this woman who was almost a stranger. When he afterwards\r
+recalled that impulse to unsolicited and inexplicable frankness which\r
+had very important results for him, it seemed to him--as it seems to\r
+everyone in such cases--that it was merely some silly whim that seized\r
+him: yet that burst of frankness, together with other trifling events,\r
+had immense consequences for him and for all his family.\r
+\r
+"You see, Aunt, Mamma has long wanted me to marry an heiress, but the\r
+very idea of marrying for money is repugnant to me."\r
+\r
+"Oh yes, I understand," said the governor's wife.\r
+\r
+"But Princess Bolkonskaya--that's another matter. I will tell you the\r
+truth. In the first place I like her very much, I feel drawn to her; and\r
+then, after I met her under such circumstances--so strangely, the idea\r
+often occurred to me: 'This is fate.' Especially if you remember that\r
+Mamma had long been thinking of it; but I had never happened to meet her\r
+before, somehow it had always happened that we did not meet. And as long\r
+as my sister Natasha was engaged to her brother it was of course out of\r
+the question for me to think of marrying her. And it must needs happen\r
+that I should meet her just when Natasha's engagement had been broken\r
+off... and then everything... So you see... I never told this to anyone\r
+and never will, only to you."\r
+\r
+The governor's wife pressed his elbow gratefully.\r
+\r
+"You know Sonya, my cousin? I love her, and promised to marry her, and\r
+will do so.... So you see there can be no question about-" said Nicholas\r
+incoherently and blushing.\r
+\r
+"My dear boy, what a way to look at it! You know Sonya has nothing and\r
+you yourself say your Papa's affairs are in a very bad way. And what\r
+about your mother? It would kill her, that's one thing. And what sort of\r
+life would it be for Sonya--if she's a girl with a heart? Your mother in\r
+despair, and you all ruined.... No, my dear, you and Sonya ought to\r
+understand that."\r
+\r
+Nicholas remained silent. It comforted him to hear these arguments.\r
+\r
+"All the same, Aunt, it is impossible," he rejoined with a sigh, after a\r
+short pause. "Besides, would the princess have me? And besides, she is\r
+now in mourning. How can one think of it!"\r
+\r
+"But you don't suppose I'm going to get you married at once? There is\r
+always a right way of doing things," replied the governor's wife.\r
+\r
+"What a matchmaker you are, Aunt..." said Nicholas, kissing her plump\r
+little hand.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+On reaching Moscow after her meeting with Rostov, Princess Mary had\r
+found her nephew there with his tutor, and a letter from Prince Andrew\r
+giving her instructions how to get to her Aunt Malvintseva at Voronezh.\r
+That feeling akin to temptation which had tormented her during her\r
+father's illness, since his death, and especially since her meeting with\r
+Rostov was smothered by arrangements for the journey, anxiety about her\r
+brother, settling in a new house, meeting new people, and attending to\r
+her nephew's education. She was sad. Now, after a month passed in quiet\r
+surroundings, she felt more and more deeply the loss of her father which\r
+was associated in her mind with the ruin of Russia. She was agitated and\r
+incessantly tortured by the thought of the dangers to which her brother,\r
+the only intimate person now remaining to her, was exposed. She was\r
+worried too about her nephew's education for which she had always felt\r
+herself incompetent, but in the depths of her soul she felt at peace--a\r
+peace arising from consciousness of having stifled those personal dreams\r
+and hopes that had been on the point of awakening within her and were\r
+related to her meeting with Rostov.\r
+\r
+The day after her party the governor's wife came to see Malvintseva and,\r
+after discussing her plan with the aunt, remarked that though under\r
+present circumstances a formal betrothal was, of course, not to be\r
+thought of, all the same the young people might be brought together and\r
+could get to know one another. Malvintseva expressed approval, and the\r
+governor's wife began to speak of Rostov in Mary's presence, praising\r
+him and telling how he had blushed when Princess Mary's name was\r
+mentioned. But Princess Mary experienced a painful rather than a joyful\r
+feeling--her mental tranquillity was destroyed, and desires, doubts,\r
+self-reproach, and hopes reawoke.\r
+\r
+During the two days that elapsed before Rostov called, Princess Mary\r
+continually thought of how she ought to behave to him. First she decided\r
+not to come to the drawing room when he called to see her aunt--that it\r
+would not be proper for her, in her deep mourning, to receive visitors;\r
+then she thought this would be rude after what he had done for her; then\r
+it occurred to her that her aunt and the governor's wife had intentions\r
+concerning herself and Rostov--their looks and words at times seemed to\r
+confirm this supposition--then she told herself that only she, with her\r
+sinful nature, could think this of them: they could not forget that\r
+situated as she was, while still wearing deep mourning, such matchmaking\r
+would be an insult to her and to her father's memory. Assuming that she\r
+did go down to see him, Princess Mary imagined the words he would say to\r
+her and what she would say to him, and these words sometimes seemed\r
+undeservedly cold and then to mean too much. More than anything she\r
+feared lest the confusion she felt might overwhelm her and betray her as\r
+soon as she saw him.\r
+\r
+But when on Sunday after church the footman announced in the drawing\r
+room that Count Rostov had called, the princess showed no confusion,\r
+only a slight blush suffused her cheeks and her eyes lit up with a new\r
+and radiant light.\r
+\r
+"You have met him, Aunt?" said she in a calm voice, unable herself to\r
+understand that she could be outwardly so calm and natural.\r
+\r
+When Rostov entered the room, the princess dropped her eyes for an\r
+instant, as if to give the visitor time to greet her aunt, and then just\r
+as Nicholas turned to her she raised her head and met his look with\r
+shining eyes. With a movement full of dignity and grace she half rose\r
+with a smile of pleasure, held out her slender, delicate hand to him,\r
+and began to speak in a voice in which for the first time new deep\r
+womanly notes vibrated. Mademoiselle Bourienne, who was in the drawing\r
+room, looked at Princess Mary in bewildered surprise. Herself a\r
+consummate coquette, she could not have maneuvered better on meeting a\r
+man she wished to attract.\r
+\r
+"Either black is particularly becoming to her or she really has greatly\r
+improved without my having noticed it. And above all, what tact and\r
+grace!" thought Mademoiselle Bourienne.\r
+\r
+Had Princess Mary been capable of reflection at that moment, she would\r
+have been more surprised than Mademoiselle Bourienne at the change that\r
+had taken place in herself. From the moment she recognized that dear,\r
+loved face, a new life force took possession of her and compelled her to\r
+speak and act apart from her own will. From the time Rostov entered, her\r
+face became suddenly transformed. It was as if a light had been kindled\r
+in a carved and painted lantern and the intricate, skillful, artistic\r
+work on its sides, that previously seemed dark, coarse, and meaningless,\r
+was suddenly shown up in unexpected and striking beauty. For the first\r
+time all that pure, spiritual, inward travail through which she had\r
+lived appeared on the surface. All her inward labor, her dissatisfaction\r
+with herself, her sufferings, her strivings after goodness, her\r
+meekness, love, and self-sacrifice--all this now shone in those radiant\r
+eyes, in her delicate smile, and in every trait of her gentle face.\r
+\r
+Rostov saw all this as clearly as if he had known her whole life. He\r
+felt that the being before him was quite different from, and better\r
+than, anyone he had met before, and above all better than himself.\r
+\r
+Their conversation was very simple and unimportant. They spoke of the\r
+war, and like everyone else unconsciously exaggerated their sorrow about\r
+it; they spoke of their last meeting--Nicholas trying to change the\r
+subject--they talked of the governor's kind wife, of Nicholas'\r
+relations, and of Princess Mary's.\r
+\r
+She did not talk about her brother, diverting the conversation as soon\r
+as her aunt mentioned Andrew. Evidently she could speak of Russia's\r
+misfortunes with a certain artificiality, but her brother was too near\r
+her heart and she neither could nor would speak lightly of him. Nicholas\r
+noticed this, as he noticed every shade of Princess Mary's character\r
+with an observation unusual to him, and everything confirmed his\r
+conviction that she was a quite unusual and extraordinary being.\r
+Nicholas blushed and was confused when people spoke to him about the\r
+princess (as she did when he was mentioned) and even when he thought of\r
+her, but in her presence he felt quite at ease, and said not at all what\r
+he had prepared, but what, quite appropriately, occurred to him at the\r
+moment.\r
+\r
+When a pause occurred during his short visit, Nicholas, as is usual when\r
+there are children, turned to Prince Andrew's little son, caressing him\r
+and asking whether he would like to be an hussar. He took the boy on his\r
+knee, played with him, and looked round at Princess Mary. With a\r
+softened, happy, timid look she watched the boy she loved in the arms of\r
+the man she loved. Nicholas also noticed that look and, as if\r
+understanding it, flushed with pleasure and began to kiss the boy with\r
+good natured playfulness.\r
+\r
+As she was in mourning Princess Mary did not go out into society, and\r
+Nicholas did not think it the proper thing to visit her again; but all\r
+the same the governor's wife went on with her matchmaking, passing on to\r
+Nicholas the flattering things Princess Mary said of him and vice versa,\r
+and insisting on his declaring himself to Princess Mary. For this\r
+purpose she arranged a meeting between the young people at the bishop's\r
+house before Mass.\r
+\r
+Though Rostov told the governor's wife that he would not make any\r
+declaration to Princess Mary, he promised to go.\r
+\r
+As at Tilsit Rostov had not allowed himself to doubt that what everybody\r
+considered right was right, so now, after a short but sincere struggle\r
+between his effort to arrange his life by his own sense of justice, and\r
+in obedient submission to circumstances, he chose the latter and yielded\r
+to the power he felt irresistibly carrying him he knew not where. He\r
+knew that after his promise to Sonya it would be what he deemed base to\r
+declare his feelings to Princess Mary. And he knew that he would never\r
+act basely. But he also knew (or rather felt at the bottom of his heart)\r
+that by resigning himself now to the force of circumstances and to those\r
+who were guiding him, he was not only doing nothing wrong, but was doing\r
+something very important--more important than anything he had ever done\r
+in his life.\r
+\r
+After meeting Princess Mary, though the course of his life went on\r
+externally as before, all his former amusements lost their charm for him\r
+and he often thought about her. But he never thought about her as he had\r
+thought of all the young ladies without exception whom he had met in\r
+society, nor as he had for a long time, and at one time rapturously,\r
+thought about Sonya. He had pictured each of those young ladies as\r
+almost all honest-hearted young men do, that is, as a possible wife,\r
+adapting her in his imagination to all the conditions of married life: a\r
+white dressing gown, his wife at the tea table, his wife's carriage,\r
+little ones, Mamma and Papa, their relations to her, and so on--and\r
+these pictures of the future had given him pleasure. But with Princess\r
+Mary, to whom they were trying to get him engaged, he could never\r
+picture anything of future married life. If he tried, his pictures\r
+seemed incongruous and false. It made him afraid.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+The dreadful news of the battle of Borodino, of our losses in killed and\r
+wounded, and the still more terrible news of the loss of Moscow reached\r
+Voronezh in the middle of September. Princess Mary, having learned of\r
+her brother's wound only from the Gazette and having no definite news of\r
+him, prepared (so Nicholas heard, he had not seen her again himself) to\r
+set off in search of Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+When he received the news of the battle of Borodino and the abandonment\r
+of Moscow, Rostov was not seized with despair, anger, the desire for\r
+vengeance, or any feeling of that kind, but everything in Voronezh\r
+suddenly seemed to him dull and tiresome, and he experienced an\r
+indefinite feeling of shame and awkwardness. The conversations he heard\r
+seemed to him insincere; he did not know how to judge all these affairs\r
+and felt that only in the regiment would everything again become clear\r
+to him. He made haste to finish buying the horses, and often became\r
+unreasonably angry with his servant and squadron quartermaster.\r
+\r
+A few days before his departure a special thanksgiving, at which\r
+Nicholas was present, was held in the cathedral for the Russian victory.\r
+He stood a little behind the governor and held himself with military\r
+decorum through the service, meditating on a great variety of subjects.\r
+When the service was over the governor's wife beckoned him to her.\r
+\r
+"Have you seen the princess?" she asked, indicating with a movement of\r
+her head a lady standing on the opposite side, beyond the choir.\r
+\r
+Nicholas immediately recognized Princess Mary not so much by the profile\r
+he saw under her bonnet as by the feeling of solicitude, timidity, and\r
+pity that immediately overcame him. Princess Mary, evidently engrossed\r
+by her thoughts, was crossing herself for the last time before leaving\r
+the church.\r
+\r
+Nicholas looked at her face with surprise. It was the same face he had\r
+seen before, there was the same general expression of refined, inner,\r
+spiritual labor, but now it was quite differently lit up. There was a\r
+pathetic expression of sorrow, prayer, and hope in it. As had occurred\r
+before when she was present, Nicholas went up to her without waiting to\r
+be prompted by the governor's wife and not asking himself whether or not\r
+it was right and proper to address her here in church, and told her he\r
+had heard of her trouble and sympathized with his whole soul. As soon as\r
+she heard his voice a vivid glow kindled in her face, lighting up both\r
+her sorrow and her joy.\r
+\r
+"There is one thing I wanted to tell you, Princess," said Rostov. "It is\r
+that if your brother, Prince Andrew Nikolievich, were not living, it\r
+would have been at once announced in the Gazette, as he is a colonel."\r
+\r
+The princess looked at him, not grasping what he was saying, but cheered\r
+by the expression of regretful sympathy on his face.\r
+\r
+"And I have known so many cases of a splinter wound" (the Gazette said\r
+it was a shell) "either proving fatal at once or being very slight,"\r
+continued Nicholas. "We must hope for the best, and I am sure..."\r
+\r
+Princess Mary interrupted him.\r
+\r
+"Oh, that would be so dread..." she began and, prevented by agitation\r
+from finishing, she bent her head with a movement as graceful as\r
+everything she did in his presence and, looking up at him gratefully,\r
+went out, following her aunt.\r
+\r
+That evening Nicholas did not go out, but stayed at home to settle some\r
+accounts with the horse dealers. When he had finished that business it\r
+was already too late to go anywhere but still too early to go to bed,\r
+and for a long time he paced up and down the room, reflecting on his\r
+life, a thing he rarely did.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary had made an agreeable impression on him when he had met\r
+her in Smolensk province. His having encountered her in such exceptional\r
+circumstances, and his mother having at one time mentioned her to him as\r
+a good match, had drawn his particular attention to her. When he met her\r
+again in Voronezh the impression she made on him was not merely pleasing\r
+but powerful. Nicholas had been struck by the peculiar moral beauty he\r
+observed in her at this time. He was, however, preparing to go away and\r
+it had not entered his head to regret that he was thus depriving himself\r
+of chances of meeting her. But that day's encounter in church had, he\r
+felt, sunk deeper than was desirable for his peace of mind. That pale,\r
+sad, refined face, that radiant look, those gentle graceful gestures,\r
+and especially the deep and tender sorrow expressed in all her features\r
+agitated him and evoked his sympathy. In men Rostov could not bear to\r
+see the expression of a higher spiritual life (that was why he did not\r
+like Prince Andrew) and he referred to it contemptuously as philosophy\r
+and dreaminess, but in Princess Mary that very sorrow which revealed the\r
+depth of a whole spiritual world foreign to him was an irresistible\r
+attraction.\r
+\r
+"She must be a wonderful woman. A real angel!" he said to himself. "Why\r
+am I not free? Why was I in such a hurry with Sonya?" And he\r
+involuntarily compared the two: the lack of spirituality in the one and\r
+the abundance of it in the other--a spirituality he himself lacked and\r
+therefore valued most highly. He tried to picture what would happen were\r
+he free. How he would propose to her and how she would become his wife.\r
+But no, he could not imagine that. He felt awed, and no clear picture\r
+presented itself to his mind. He had long ago pictured to himself a\r
+future with Sonya, and that was all clear and simple just because it had\r
+all been thought out and he knew all there was in Sonya, but it was\r
+impossible to picture a future with Princess Mary, because he did not\r
+understand her but simply loved her.\r
+\r
+Reveries about Sonya had had something merry and playful in them, but to\r
+dream of Princess Mary was always difficult and a little frightening.\r
+\r
+"How she prayed!" he thought. "It was plain that her whole soul was in\r
+her prayer. Yes, that was the prayer that moves mountains, and I am sure\r
+her prayer will be answered. Why don't I pray for what I want?" he\r
+suddenly thought. "What do I want? To be free, released from Sonya...\r
+She was right," he thought, remembering what the governor's wife had\r
+said: "Nothing but misfortune can come of marrying Sonya. Muddles, grief\r
+for Mamma... business difficulties... muddles, terrible muddles!\r
+Besides, I don't love her--not as I should. O, God! release me from this\r
+dreadful, inextricable position!" he suddenly began to pray. "Yes,\r
+prayer can move mountains, but one must have faith and not pray as\r
+Natasha and I used to as children, that the snow might turn into sugar--\r
+and then run out into the yard to see whether it had done so. No, but I\r
+am not praying for trifles now," he thought as he put his pipe down in a\r
+corner, and folding his hands placed himself before the icon. Softened\r
+by memories of Princess Mary he began to pray as he had not done for a\r
+long time. Tears were in his eyes and in his throat when the door opened\r
+and Lavrushka came in with some papers.\r
+\r
+"Blockhead! Why do you come in without being called?" cried Nicholas,\r
+quickly changing his attitude.\r
+\r
+"From the governor," said Lavrushka in a sleepy voice. "A courier has\r
+arrived and there's a letter for you."\r
+\r
+"Well, all right, thanks. You can go!"\r
+\r
+Nicholas took the two letters, one of which was from his mother and the\r
+other from Sonya. He recognized them by the handwriting and opened\r
+Sonya's first. He had read only a few lines when he turned pale and his\r
+eyes opened wide with fear and joy.\r
+\r
+"No, it's not possible!" he cried aloud.\r
+\r
+Unable to sit still he paced up and down the room holding the letter and\r
+reading it. He glanced through it, then read it again, and then again,\r
+and standing still in the middle of the room he raised his shoulders,\r
+stretching out his hands, with his mouth wide open and his eyes fixed.\r
+What he had just been praying for with confidence that God would hear\r
+him had come to pass; but Nicholas was as much astonished as if it were\r
+something extraordinary and unexpected, and as if the very fact that it\r
+had happened so quickly proved that it had not come from God to whom he\r
+had prayed, but by some ordinary coincidence.\r
+\r
+This unexpected and, as it seemed to Nicholas, quite voluntary letter\r
+from Sonya freed him from the knot that fettered him and from which\r
+there had seemed no escape. She wrote that the last unfortunate events--\r
+the loss of almost the whole of the Rostovs' Moscow property--and the\r
+countess' repeatedly expressed wish that Nicholas should marry Princess\r
+Bolkonskaya, together with his silence and coldness of late, had all\r
+combined to make her decide to release him from his promise and set him\r
+completely free.\r
+\r
+It would be too painful to me to think that I might be a cause of sorrow\r
+or discord in the family that has been so good to me (she wrote), and my\r
+love has no aim but the happiness of those I love; so, Nicholas, I beg\r
+you to consider yourself free, and to be assured that, in spite of\r
+everything, no one can love you more than does\r
+\r
+Your Sonya\r
+\r
+Both letters were written from Troitsa. The other, from the countess,\r
+described their last days in Moscow, their departure, the fire, and the\r
+destruction of all their property. In this letter the countess also\r
+mentioned that Prince Andrew was among the wounded traveling with them;\r
+his state was very critical, but the doctor said there was now more\r
+hope. Sonya and Natasha were nursing him.\r
+\r
+Next day Nicholas took his mother's letter and went to see Princess\r
+Mary. Neither he nor she said a word about what "Natasha nursing him"\r
+might mean, but thanks to this letter Nicholas suddenly became almost as\r
+intimate with the princess as if they were relations.\r
+\r
+The following day he saw Princess Mary off on her journey to Yaroslavl,\r
+and a few days later left to rejoin his regiment.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+Sonya's letter written from Troitsa, which had come as an answer to\r
+Nicholas' prayer, was prompted by this: the thought of getting Nicholas\r
+married to an heiress occupied the old countess' mind more and more. She\r
+knew that Sonya was the chief obstacle to this happening, and Sonya's\r
+life in the countess' house had grown harder and harder, especially\r
+after they had received a letter from Nicholas telling of his meeting\r
+with Princess Mary in Bogucharovo. The countess let no occasion slip of\r
+making humiliating or cruel allusions to Sonya.\r
+\r
+But a few days before they left Moscow, moved and excited by all that\r
+was going on, she called Sonya to her and, instead of reproaching and\r
+making demands on her, tearfully implored her to sacrifice herself and\r
+repay all that the family had done for her by breaking off her\r
+engagement with Nicholas.\r
+\r
+"I shall not be at peace till you promise me this."\r
+\r
+Sonya burst into hysterical tears and replied through her sobs that she\r
+would do anything and was prepared for anything, but gave no actual\r
+promise and could not bring herself to decide to do what was demanded of\r
+her. She must sacrifice herself for the family that had reared and\r
+brought her up. To sacrifice herself for others was Sonya's habit. Her\r
+position in the house was such that only by sacrifice could she show her\r
+worth, and she was accustomed to this and loved doing it. But in all her\r
+former acts of self-sacrifice she had been happily conscious that they\r
+raised her in her own esteem and in that of others, and so made her more\r
+worthy of Nicholas whom she loved more than anything in the world. But\r
+now they wanted her to sacrifice the very thing that constituted the\r
+whole reward for her self-sacrifice and the whole meaning of her life.\r
+And for the first time she felt bitterness against those who had been\r
+her benefactors only to torture her the more painfully; she felt jealous\r
+of Natasha who had never experienced anything of this sort, had never\r
+needed to sacrifice herself, but made others sacrifice themselves for\r
+her and yet was beloved by everybody. And for the first time Sonya felt\r
+that out of her pure, quiet love for Nicholas a passionate feeling was\r
+beginning to grow up which was stronger than principle, virtue, or\r
+religion. Under the influence of this feeling Sonya, whose life of\r
+dependence had taught her involuntarily to be secretive, having answered\r
+the countess in vague general terms, avoided talking with her and\r
+resolved to wait till she should see Nicholas, not in order to set him\r
+free but on the contrary at that meeting to bind him to her forever.\r
+\r
+The bustle and terror of the Rostovs' last days in Moscow stifled the\r
+gloomy thoughts that oppressed Sonya. She was glad to find escape from\r
+them in practical activity. But when she heard of Prince Andrew's\r
+presence in their house, despite her sincere pity for him and for\r
+Natasha, she was seized by a joyful and superstitious feeling that God\r
+did not intend her to be separated from Nicholas. She knew that Natasha\r
+loved no one but Prince Andrew and had never ceased to love him. She\r
+knew that being thrown together again under such terrible circumstances\r
+they would again fall in love with one another, and that Nicholas would\r
+then not be able to marry Princess Mary as they would be within the\r
+prohibited degrees of affinity. Despite all the terror of what had\r
+happened during those last days and during the first days of their\r
+journey, this feeling that Providence was intervening in her personal\r
+affairs cheered Sonya.\r
+\r
+At the Troitsa monastery the Rostovs first broke their journey for a\r
+whole day.\r
+\r
+Three large rooms were assigned to them in the monastery hostelry, one\r
+of which was occupied by Prince Andrew. The wounded man was much better\r
+that day and Natasha was sitting with him. In the next room sat the\r
+count and countess respectfully conversing with the prior, who was\r
+calling on them as old acquaintances and benefactors of the monastery.\r
+Sonya was there too, tormented by curiosity as to what Prince Andrew and\r
+Natasha were talking about. She heard the sound of their voices through\r
+the door. That door opened and Natasha came out, looking excited. Not\r
+noticing the monk, who had risen to greet her and was drawing back the\r
+wide sleeve on his right arm, she went up to Sonya and took her hand.\r
+\r
+"Natasha, what are you about? Come here!" said the countess.\r
+\r
+Natasha went up to the monk for his blessing, and he advised her to pray\r
+for aid to God and His saint.\r
+\r
+As soon as the prior withdrew, Natasha took her friend by the hand and\r
+went with her into the unoccupied room.\r
+\r
+"Sonya, will he live?" she asked. "Sonya, how happy I am, and how\r
+unhappy!... Sonya, dovey, everything is as it used to be. If only he\r
+lives! He cannot... because... because... of" and Natasha burst into\r
+tears.\r
+\r
+"Yes! I knew it! Thank God!" murmured Sonya. "He will live."\r
+\r
+Sonya was not less agitated than her friend by the latter's fear and\r
+grief and by her own personal feelings which she shared with no one.\r
+Sobbing, she kissed and comforted Natasha. "If only he lives!" she\r
+thought. Having wept, talked, and wiped away their tears, the two\r
+friends went together to Prince Andrew's door. Natasha opened it\r
+cautiously and glanced into the room, Sonya standing beside her at the\r
+half-open door.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew was lying raised high on three pillows. His pale face was\r
+calm, his eyes closed, and they could see his regular breathing.\r
+\r
+"O, Natasha!" Sonya suddenly almost screamed, catching her companion's\r
+arm and stepping back from the door.\r
+\r
+"What? What is it?" asked Natasha.\r
+\r
+"It's that, that..." said Sonya, with a white face and trembling lips.\r
+\r
+Natasha softly closed the door and went with Sonya to the window, not\r
+yet understanding what the latter was telling her.\r
+\r
+"You remember," said Sonya with a solemn and frightened expression. "You\r
+remember when I looked in the mirror for you... at Otradnoe at\r
+Christmas? Do you remember what I saw?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes!" cried Natasha opening her eyes wide, and vaguely recalling\r
+that Sonya had told her something about Prince Andrew whom she had seen\r
+lying down.\r
+\r
+"You remember?" Sonya went on. "I saw it then and told everybody, you\r
+and Dunyasha. I saw him lying on a bed," said she, making a gesture with\r
+her hand and a lifted finger at each detail, "and that he had his eyes\r
+closed and was covered just with a pink quilt, and that his hands were\r
+folded," she concluded, convincing herself that the details she had just\r
+seen were exactly what she had seen in the mirror.\r
+\r
+She had in fact seen nothing then but had mentioned the first thing that\r
+came into her head, but what she had invented then seemed to her now as\r
+real as any other recollection. She not only remembered what she had\r
+then said--that he turned to look at her and smiled and was covered with\r
+something red--but was firmly convinced that she had then seen and said\r
+that he was covered with a pink quilt and that his eyes were closed.\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes, it really was pink!" cried Natasha, who now thought she too\r
+remembered the word pink being used, and saw in this the most\r
+extraordinary and mysterious part of the prediction.\r
+\r
+"But what does it mean?" she added meditatively.\r
+\r
+"Oh, I don't know, it is all so strange," replied Sonya, clutching at\r
+her head.\r
+\r
+A few minutes later Prince Andrew rang and Natasha went to him, but\r
+Sonya, feeling unusually excited and touched, remained at the window\r
+thinking about the strangeness of what had occurred.\r
+\r
+They had an opportunity that day to send letters to the army, and the\r
+countess was writing to her son.\r
+\r
+"Sonya!" said the countess, raising her eyes from her letter as her\r
+niece passed, "Sonya, won't you write to Nicholas?" She spoke in a soft,\r
+tremulous voice, and in the weary eyes that looked over her spectacles\r
+Sonya read all that the countess meant to convey with these words. Those\r
+eyes expressed entreaty, shame at having to ask, fear of a refusal, and\r
+readiness for relentless hatred in case of such refusal.\r
+\r
+Sonya went up to the countess and, kneeling down, kissed her hand.\r
+\r
+"Yes, Mamma, I will write," said she.\r
+\r
+Sonya was softened, excited, and touched by all that had occurred that\r
+day, especially by the mysterious fulfillment she had just seen of her\r
+vision. Now that she knew that the renewal of Natasha's relations with\r
+Prince Andrew would prevent Nicholas from marrying Princess Mary, she\r
+was joyfully conscious of a return of that self-sacrificing spirit in\r
+which she was accustomed to live and loved to live. So with a joyful\r
+consciousness of performing a magnanimous deed--interrupted several\r
+times by the tears that dimmed her velvety black eyes--she wrote that\r
+touching letter the arrival of which had so amazed Nicholas.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+The officer and soldiers who had arrested Pierre treated him with\r
+hostility but yet with respect, in the guardhouse to which he was taken.\r
+In their attitude toward him could still be felt both uncertainty as to\r
+who he might be--perhaps a very important person--and hostility as a\r
+result of their recent personal conflict with him.\r
+\r
+But when the guard was relieved next morning, Pierre felt that for the\r
+new guard--both officers and men--he was not as interesting as he had\r
+been to his captors; and in fact the guard of the second day did not\r
+recognize in this big, stout man in a peasant coat the vigorous person\r
+who had fought so desperately with the marauder and the convoy and had\r
+uttered those solemn words about saving a child; they saw in him only\r
+No. 17 of the captured Russians, arrested and detained for some reason\r
+by order of the Higher Command. If they noticed anything remarkable\r
+about Pierre, it was only his unabashed, meditative concentration and\r
+thoughtfulness, and the way he spoke French, which struck them as\r
+surprisingly good. In spite of this he was placed that day with the\r
+other arrested suspects, as the separate room he had occupied was\r
+required by an officer.\r
+\r
+All the Russians confined with Pierre were men of the lowest class and,\r
+recognizing him as a gentleman, they all avoided him, more especially as\r
+he spoke French. Pierre felt sad at hearing them making fun of him.\r
+\r
+That evening he learned that all these prisoners (he, probably, among\r
+them) were to be tried for incendiarism. On the third day he was taken\r
+with the others to a house where a French general with a white mustache\r
+sat with two colonels and other Frenchmen with scarves on their arms.\r
+With the precision and definiteness customary in addressing prisoners,\r
+and which is supposed to preclude human frailty, Pierre like the others\r
+was questioned as to who he was, where he had been, with what object,\r
+and so on.\r
+\r
+These questions, like questions put at trials generally, left the\r
+essence of the matter aside, shut out the possibility of that essence's\r
+being revealed, and were designed only to form a channel through which\r
+the judges wished the answers of the accused to flow so as to lead to\r
+the desired result, namely a conviction. As soon as Pierre began to say\r
+anything that did not fit in with that aim, the channel was removed and\r
+the water could flow to waste. Pierre felt, moreover, what the accused\r
+always feel at their trial, perplexity as to why these questions were\r
+put to him. He had a feeling that it was only out of condescension or a\r
+kind of civility that this device of placing a channel was employed. He\r
+knew he was in these men's power, that only by force had they brought\r
+him there, that force alone gave them the right to demand answers to\r
+their questions, and that the sole object of that assembly was to\r
+inculpate him. And so, as they had the power and wish to inculpate him,\r
+this expedient of an inquiry and trial seemed unnecessary. It was\r
+evident that any answer would lead to conviction. When asked what he was\r
+doing when he was arrested, Pierre replied in a rather tragic manner\r
+that he was restoring to its parents a child he had saved from the\r
+flames. Why had he fought the marauder? Pierre answered that he "was\r
+protecting a woman," and that "to protect a woman who was being insulted\r
+was the duty of every man; that..." They interrupted him, for this was\r
+not to the point. Why was he in the yard of a burning house where\r
+witnesses had seen him? He replied that he had gone out to see what was\r
+happening in Moscow. Again they interrupted him: they had not asked\r
+where he was going, but why he was found near the fire? Who was he? they\r
+asked, repeating their first question, which he had declined to answer.\r
+Again he replied that he could not answer it.\r
+\r
+"Put that down, that's bad... very bad," sternly remarked the general\r
+with the white mustache and red flushed face.\r
+\r
+On the fourth day fires broke out on the Zubovski rampart.\r
+\r
+Pierre and thirteen others were moved to the coach house of a merchant's\r
+house near the Crimean bridge. On his way through the streets Pierre\r
+felt stifled by the smoke which seemed to hang over the whole city.\r
+Fires were visible on all sides. He did not then realize the\r
+significance of the burning of Moscow, and looked at the fires with\r
+horror.\r
+\r
+He passed four days in the coach house near the Crimean bridge and\r
+during that time learned, from the talk of the French soldiers, that all\r
+those confined there were awaiting a decision which might come any day\r
+from the marshal. What marshal this was, Pierre could not learn from the\r
+soldiers. Evidently for them "the marshal" represented a very high and\r
+rather mysterious power.\r
+\r
+These first days, before the eighth of September when the prisoners were\r
+had up for a second examination, were the hardest of all for Pierre.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+On the eighth of September an officer--a very important one judging by\r
+the respect the guards showed him--entered the coach house where the\r
+prisoners were. This officer, probably someone on the staff, was holding\r
+a paper in his hand, and called over all the Russians there, naming\r
+Pierre as "the man who does not give his name." Glancing indolently and\r
+indifferently at all the prisoners, he ordered the officer in charge to\r
+have them decently dressed and tidied up before taking them to the\r
+marshal. An hour later a squad of soldiers arrived and Pierre with\r
+thirteen others was led to the Virgin's Field. It was a fine day, sunny\r
+after rain, and the air was unusually pure. The smoke did not hang low\r
+as on the day when Pierre had been taken from the guardhouse on the\r
+Zubovski rampart, but rose through the pure air in columns. No flames\r
+were seen, but columns of smoke rose on all sides, and all Moscow as far\r
+as Pierre could see was one vast charred ruin. On all sides there were\r
+waste spaces with only stoves and chimney stacks still standing, and\r
+here and there the blackened walls of some brick houses. Pierre gazed at\r
+the ruins and did not recognize districts he had known well. Here and\r
+there he could see churches that had not been burned. The Kremlin, which\r
+was not destroyed, gleamed white in the distance with its towers and the\r
+belfry of Ivan the Great. The domes of the New Convent of the Virgin\r
+glittered brightly and its bells were ringing particularly clearly.\r
+These bells reminded Pierre that it was Sunday and the feast of the\r
+Nativity of the Virgin. But there seemed to be no one to celebrate this\r
+holiday: everywhere were blackened ruins, and the few Russians to be\r
+seen were tattered and frightened people who tried to hide when they saw\r
+the French.\r
+\r
+It was plain that the Russian nest was ruined and destroyed, but in\r
+place of the Russian order of life that had been destroyed, Pierre\r
+unconsciously felt that a quite different, firm, French order had been\r
+established over this ruined nest. He felt this in the looks of the\r
+soldiers who, marching in regular ranks briskly and gaily, were\r
+escorting him and the other criminals; he felt it in the looks of an\r
+important French official in a carriage and pair driven by a soldier,\r
+whom they met on the way. He felt it in the merry sounds of regimental\r
+music he heard from the left side of the field, and felt and realized it\r
+especially from the list of prisoners the French officer had read out\r
+when he came that morning. Pierre had been taken by one set of soldiers\r
+and led first to one and then to another place with dozens of other men,\r
+and it seemed that they might have forgotten him, or confused him with\r
+the others. But no: the answers he had given when questioned had come\r
+back to him in his designation as "the man who does not give his name,"\r
+and under that appellation, which to Pierre seemed terrible, they were\r
+now leading him somewhere with unhesitating assurance on their faces\r
+that he and all the other prisoners were exactly the ones they wanted\r
+and that they were being taken to the proper place. Pierre felt himself\r
+to be an insignificant chip fallen among the wheels of a machine whose\r
+action he did not understand but which was working well.\r
+\r
+He and the other prisoners were taken to the right side of the Virgin's\r
+Field, to a large white house with an immense garden not far from the\r
+convent. This was Prince Shcherbitov's house, where Pierre had often\r
+been in other days, and which, as he learned from the talk of the\r
+soldiers, was now occupied by the marshal, the Duke of Eckmuhl (Davout).\r
+\r
+They were taken to the entrance and led into the house one by one.\r
+Pierre was the sixth to enter. He was conducted through a glass gallery,\r
+an anteroom, and a hall, which were familiar to him, into a long low\r
+study at the door of which stood an adjutant.\r
+\r
+Davout, spectacles on nose, sat bent over a table at the further end of\r
+the room. Pierre went close up to him, but Davout, evidently consulting\r
+a paper that lay before him, did not look up. Without raising his eyes,\r
+he said in a low voice:\r
+\r
+"Who are you?"\r
+\r
+Pierre was silent because he was incapable of uttering a word. To him\r
+Davout was not merely a French general, but a man notorious for his\r
+cruelty. Looking at his cold face, as he sat like a stern schoolmaster\r
+who was prepared to wait awhile for an answer, Pierre felt that every\r
+instant of delay might cost him his life; but he did not know what to\r
+say. He did not venture to repeat what he had said at his first\r
+examination, yet to disclose his rank and position was dangerous and\r
+embarrassing. So he was silent. But before he had decided what to do,\r
+Davout raised his head, pushed his spectacles back on his forehead,\r
+screwed up his eyes, and looked intently at him.\r
+\r
+"I know that man," he said in a cold, measured tone, evidently\r
+calculated to frighten Pierre.\r
+\r
+The chill that had been running down Pierre's back now seized his head\r
+as in a vise.\r
+\r
+"You cannot know me, General, I have never seen you..."\r
+\r
+"He is a Russian spy," Davout interrupted, addressing another general\r
+who was present, but whom Pierre had not noticed.\r
+\r
+Davout turned away. With an unexpected reverberation in his voice Pierre\r
+rapidly began:\r
+\r
+"No, monseigneur," he said, suddenly remembering that Davout was a duke.\r
+"No, monseigneur, you cannot have known me. I am a militia officer and\r
+have not quitted Moscow."\r
+\r
+"Your name?" asked Davout.\r
+\r
+"Bezukhov."\r
+\r
+"What proof have I that you are not lying?"\r
+\r
+"Monseigneur!" exclaimed Pierre, not in an offended but in a pleading\r
+voice.\r
+\r
+Davout looked up and gazed intently at him. For some seconds they looked\r
+at one another, and that look saved Pierre. Apart from conditions of war\r
+and law, that look established human relations between the two men. At\r
+that moment an immense number of things passed dimly through both their\r
+minds, and they realized that they were both children of humanity and\r
+were brothers.\r
+\r
+At the first glance, when Davout had only raised his head from the\r
+papers where human affairs and lives were indicated by numbers, Pierre\r
+was merely a circumstance, and Davout could have shot him without\r
+burdening his conscience with an evil deed, but now he saw in him a\r
+human being. He reflected for a moment.\r
+\r
+"How can you show me that you are telling the truth?" said Davout\r
+coldly.\r
+\r
+Pierre remembered Ramballe, and named him and his regiment and the\r
+street where the house was.\r
+\r
+"You are not what you say," returned Davout.\r
+\r
+In a trembling, faltering voice Pierre began adducing proofs of the\r
+truth of his statements.\r
+\r
+But at that moment an adjutant entered and reported something to Davout.\r
+\r
+Davout brightened up at the news the adjutant brought, and began\r
+buttoning up his uniform. It seemed that he had quite forgotten Pierre.\r
+\r
+When the adjutant reminded him of the prisoner, he jerked his head in\r
+Pierre's direction with a frown and ordered him to be led away. But\r
+where they were to take him Pierre did not know: back to the coach house\r
+or to the place of execution his companions had pointed out to him as\r
+they crossed the Virgin's Field.\r
+\r
+He turned his head and saw that the adjutant was putting another\r
+question to Davout.\r
+\r
+"Yes, of course!" replied Davout, but what this "yes" meant, Pierre did\r
+not know.\r
+\r
+Pierre could not afterwards remember how he went, whether it was far, or\r
+in which direction. His faculties were quite numbed, he was stupefied,\r
+and noticing nothing around him went on moving his legs as the others\r
+did till they all stopped and he stopped too. The only thought in his\r
+mind at that time was: who was it that had really sentenced him to\r
+death? Not the men on the commission that had first examined him--not\r
+one of them wished to or, evidently, could have done it. It was not\r
+Davout, who had looked at him in so human a way. In another moment\r
+Davout would have realized that he was doing wrong, but just then the\r
+adjutant had come in and interrupted him. The adjutant, also, had\r
+evidently had no evil intent though he might have refrained from coming\r
+in. Then who was executing him, killing him, depriving him of life--him,\r
+Pierre, with all his memories, aspirations, hopes, and thoughts? Who was\r
+doing this? And Pierre felt that it was no one.\r
+\r
+It was a system--a concurrence of circumstances.\r
+\r
+A system of some sort was killing him--Pierre--depriving him of life, of\r
+everything, annihilating him.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+From Prince Shcherbatov's house the prisoners were led straight down the\r
+Virgin's Field, to the left of the nunnery, as far as a kitchen garden\r
+in which a post had been set up. Beyond that post a fresh pit had been\r
+dug in the ground, and near the post and the pit a large crowd stood in\r
+a semicircle. The crowd consisted of a few Russians and many of\r
+Napoleon's soldiers who were not on duty--Germans, Italians, and\r
+Frenchmen, in a variety of uniforms. To the right and left of the post\r
+stood rows of French troops in blue uniforms with red epaulets and high\r
+boots and shakos.\r
+\r
+The prisoners were placed in a certain order, according to the list\r
+(Pierre was sixth), and were led to the post. Several drums suddenly\r
+began to beat on both sides of them, and at that sound Pierre felt as if\r
+part of his soul had been torn away. He lost the power of thinking or\r
+understanding. He could only hear and see. And he had only one wish--\r
+that the frightful thing that had to happen should happen quickly.\r
+Pierre looked round at his fellow prisoners and scrutinized them.\r
+\r
+The two first were convicts with shaven heads. One was tall and thin,\r
+the other dark, shaggy, and sinewy, with a flat nose. The third was a\r
+domestic serf, about forty-five years old, with grizzled hair and a\r
+plump, well-nourished body. The fourth was a peasant, a very handsome\r
+man with a broad, light-brown beard and black eyes. The fifth was a\r
+factory hand, a thin, sallow-faced lad of eighteen in a loose coat.\r
+\r
+Pierre heard the French consulting whether to shoot them separately or\r
+two at a time. "In couples," replied the officer in command in a calm\r
+voice. There was a stir in the ranks of the soldiers and it was evident\r
+that they were all hurrying--not as men hurry to do something they\r
+understand, but as people hurry to finish a necessary but unpleasant and\r
+incomprehensible task.\r
+\r
+A French official wearing a scarf came up to the right of the row of\r
+prisoners and read out the sentence in Russian and in French.\r
+\r
+Then two pairs of Frenchmen approached the criminals and at the\r
+officer's command took the two convicts who stood first in the row. The\r
+convicts stopped when they reached the post and, while sacks were being\r
+brought, looked dumbly around as a wounded beast looks at an approaching\r
+huntsman. One crossed himself continually, the other scratched his back\r
+and made a movement of the lips resembling a smile. With hurried hands\r
+the soldiers blindfolded them, drawing the sacks over their heads, and\r
+bound them to the post.\r
+\r
+Twelve sharpshooters with muskets stepped out of the ranks with a firm\r
+regular tread and halted eight paces from the post. Pierre turned away\r
+to avoid seeing what was going to happen. Suddenly a crackling, rolling\r
+noise was heard which seemed to him louder than the most terrific\r
+thunder, and he looked round. There was some smoke, and the Frenchmen\r
+were doing something near the pit, with pale faces and trembling hands.\r
+Two more prisoners were led up. In the same way and with similar looks,\r
+these two glanced vainly at the onlookers with only a silent appeal for\r
+protection in their eyes, evidently unable to understand or believe what\r
+was going to happen to them. They could not believe it because they\r
+alone knew what their life meant to them, and so they neither understood\r
+nor believed that it could be taken from them.\r
+\r
+Again Pierre did not wish to look and again turned away; but again the\r
+sound as of a frightful explosion struck his ear, and at the same moment\r
+he saw smoke, blood, and the pale, scared faces of the Frenchmen who\r
+were again doing something by the post, their trembling hands impeding\r
+one another. Pierre, breathing heavily, looked around as if asking what\r
+it meant. The same question was expressed in all the looks that met his.\r
+\r
+On the faces of all the Russians and of the French soldiers and officers\r
+without exception, he read the same dismay, horror, and conflict that\r
+were in his own heart. "But who, after all, is doing this? They are all\r
+suffering as I am. Who then is it? Who?" flashed for an instant through\r
+his mind.\r
+\r
+"Sharpshooters of the 86th, forward!" shouted someone. The fifth\r
+prisoner, the one next to Pierre, was led away--alone. Pierre did not\r
+understand that he was saved, that he and the rest had been brought\r
+there only to witness the execution. With ever-growing horror, and no\r
+sense of joy or relief, he gazed at what was taking place. The fifth man\r
+was the factory lad in the loose cloak. The moment they laid hands on\r
+him he sprang aside in terror and clutched at Pierre. (Pierre shuddered\r
+and shook himself free.) The lad was unable to walk. They dragged him\r
+along, holding him up under the arms, and he screamed. When they got him\r
+to the post he grew quiet, as if he suddenly understood something.\r
+Whether he understood that screaming was useless or whether he thought\r
+it incredible that men should kill him, at any rate he took his stand at\r
+the post, waiting to be blindfolded like the others, and like a wounded\r
+animal looked around him with glittering eyes.\r
+\r
+Pierre was no longer able to turn away and close his eyes. His curiosity\r
+and agitation, like that of the whole crowd, reached the highest pitch\r
+at this fifth murder. Like the others this fifth man seemed calm; he\r
+wrapped his loose cloak closer and rubbed one bare foot with the other.\r
+\r
+When they began to blindfold him he himself adjusted the knot which hurt\r
+the back of his head; then when they propped him against the\r
+bloodstained post, he leaned back and, not being comfortable in that\r
+position, straightened himself, adjusted his feet, and leaned back again\r
+more comfortably. Pierre did not take his eyes from him and did not miss\r
+his slightest movement.\r
+\r
+Probably a word of command was given and was followed by the reports of\r
+eight muskets; but try as he would Pierre could not afterwards remember\r
+having heard the slightest sound of the shots. He only saw how the\r
+workman suddenly sank down on the cords that held him, how blood showed\r
+itself in two places, how the ropes slackened under the weight of the\r
+hanging body, and how the workman sat down, his head hanging unnaturally\r
+and one leg bent under him. Pierre ran up to the post. No one hindered\r
+him. Pale, frightened people were doing something around the workman.\r
+The lower jaw of an old Frenchman with a thick mustache trembled as he\r
+untied the ropes. The body collapsed. The soldiers dragged it awkwardly\r
+from the post and began pushing it into the pit.\r
+\r
+They all plainly and certainly knew that they were criminals who must\r
+hide the traces of their guilt as quickly as possible.\r
+\r
+Pierre glanced into the pit and saw that the factory lad was lying with\r
+his knees close up to his head and one shoulder higher than the other.\r
+That shoulder rose and fell rhythmically and convulsively, but spadefuls\r
+of earth were already being thrown over the whole body. One of the\r
+soldiers, evidently suffering, shouted gruffly and angrily at Pierre to\r
+go back. But Pierre did not understand him and remained near the post,\r
+and no one drove him away.\r
+\r
+When the pit had been filled up a command was given. Pierre was taken\r
+back to his place, and the rows of troops on both sides of the post made\r
+a half turn and went past it at a measured pace. The twenty-four\r
+sharpshooters with discharged muskets, standing in the center of the\r
+circle, ran back to their places as the companies passed by.\r
+\r
+Pierre gazed now with dazed eyes at these sharpshooters who ran in\r
+couples out of the circle. All but one rejoined their companies. This\r
+one, a young soldier, his face deadly pale, his shako pushed back, and\r
+his musket resting on the ground, still stood near the pit at the spot\r
+from which he had fired. He swayed like a drunken man, taking some steps\r
+forward and back to save himself from falling. An old, noncommissioned\r
+officer ran out of the ranks and taking him by the elbow dragged him to\r
+his company. The crowd of Russians and Frenchmen began to disperse. They\r
+all went away silently and with drooping heads.\r
+\r
+"That will teach them to start fires," said one of the Frenchmen.\r
+\r
+Pierre glanced round at the speaker and saw that it was a soldier who\r
+was trying to find some relief after what had been done, but was not\r
+able to do so. Without finishing what he had begun to say he made a\r
+hopeless movement with his arm and went away.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+After the execution Pierre was separated from the rest of the prisoners\r
+and placed alone in a small, ruined, and befouled church.\r
+\r
+Toward evening a noncommissioned officer entered with two soldiers and\r
+told him that he had been pardoned and would now go to the barracks for\r
+the prisoners of war. Without understanding what was said to him, Pierre\r
+got up and went with the soldiers. They took him to the upper end of the\r
+field, where there were some sheds built of charred planks, beams, and\r
+battens, and led him into one of them. In the darkness some twenty\r
+different men surrounded Pierre. He looked at them without understanding\r
+who they were, why they were there, or what they wanted of him. He heard\r
+what they said, but did not understand the meaning of the words and made\r
+no kind of deduction from or application of them. He replied to\r
+questions they put to him, but did not consider who was listening to his\r
+replies, nor how they would understand them. He looked at their faces\r
+and figures, but they all seemed to him equally meaningless.\r
+\r
+From the moment Pierre had witnessed those terrible murders committed by\r
+men who did not wish to commit them, it was as if the mainspring of his\r
+life, on which everything depended and which made everything appear\r
+alive, had suddenly been wrenched out and everything had collapsed into\r
+a heap of meaningless rubbish. Though he did not acknowledge it to\r
+himself, his faith in the right ordering of the universe, in humanity,\r
+in his own soul, and in God, had been destroyed. He had experienced this\r
+before, but never so strongly as now. When similar doubts had assailed\r
+him before, they had been the result of his own wrongdoing, and at the\r
+bottom of his heart he had felt that relief from his despair and from\r
+those doubts was to be found within himself. But now he felt that the\r
+universe had crumbled before his eyes and only meaningless ruins\r
+remained, and this not by any fault of his own. He felt that it was not\r
+in his power to regain faith in the meaning of life.\r
+\r
+Around him in the darkness men were standing and evidently something\r
+about him interested them greatly. They were telling him something and\r
+asking him something. Then they led him away somewhere, and at last he\r
+found himself in a corner of the shed among men who were laughing and\r
+talking on all sides.\r
+\r
+"Well, then, mates... that very prince who..." some voice at the other\r
+end of the shed was saying, with a strong emphasis on the word who.\r
+\r
+Sitting silent and motionless on a heap of straw against the wall,\r
+Pierre sometimes opened and sometimes closed his eyes. But as soon as he\r
+closed them he saw before him the dreadful face of the factory lad--\r
+especially dreadful because of its simplicity--and the faces of the\r
+murderers, even more dreadful because of their disquiet. And he opened\r
+his eyes again and stared vacantly into the darkness around him.\r
+\r
+Beside him in a stooping position sat a small man of whose presence he\r
+was first made aware by a strong smell of perspiration which came from\r
+him every time he moved. This man was doing something to his legs in the\r
+darkness, and though Pierre could not see his face he felt that the man\r
+continually glanced at him. On growing used to the darkness Pierre saw\r
+that the man was taking off his leg bands, and the way he did it aroused\r
+Pierre's interest.\r
+\r
+Having unwound the string that tied the band on one leg, he carefully\r
+coiled it up and immediately set to work on the other leg, glancing up\r
+at Pierre. While one hand hung up the first string the other was already\r
+unwinding the band on the second leg. In this way, having carefully\r
+removed the leg bands by deft circular motions of his arm following one\r
+another uninterruptedly, the man hung the leg bands up on some pegs\r
+fixed above his head. Then he took out a knife, cut something, closed\r
+the knife, placed it under the head of his bed, and, seating himself\r
+comfortably, clasped his arms round his lifted knees and fixed his eyes\r
+on Pierre. The latter was conscious of something pleasant, comforting,\r
+and well-rounded in these deft movements, in the man's well-ordered\r
+arrangements in his corner, and even in his very smell, and he looked at\r
+the man without taking his eyes from him.\r
+\r
+"You've seen a lot of trouble, sir, eh?" the little man suddenly said.\r
+\r
+And there was so much kindliness and simplicity in his singsong voice\r
+that Pierre tried to reply, but his jaw trembled and he felt tears\r
+rising to his eyes. The little fellow, giving Pierre no time to betray\r
+his confusion, instantly continued in the same pleasant tones:\r
+\r
+"Eh, lad, don't fret!" said he, in the tender singsong caressing voice\r
+old Russian peasant women employ. "Don't fret, friend--'suffer an hour,\r
+live for an age!' that's how it is, my dear fellow. And here we live,\r
+thank heaven, without offense. Among these folk, too, there are good men\r
+as well as bad," said he, and still speaking, he turned on his knees\r
+with a supple movement, got up, coughed, and went off to another part of\r
+the shed.\r
+\r
+"Eh, you rascal!" Pierre heard the same kind voice saying at the other\r
+end of the shed. "So you've come, you rascal? She remembers... Now, now,\r
+that'll do!"\r
+\r
+And the soldier, pushing away a little dog that was jumping up at him,\r
+returned to his place and sat down. In his hands he had something\r
+wrapped in a rag.\r
+\r
+"Here, eat a bit, sir," said he, resuming his former respectful tone as\r
+he unwrapped and offered Pierre some baked potatoes. "We had soup for\r
+dinner and the potatoes are grand!"\r
+\r
+Pierre had not eaten all day and the smell of the potatoes seemed\r
+extremely pleasant to him. He thanked the soldier and began to eat.\r
+\r
+"Well, are they all right?" said the soldier with a smile. "You should\r
+do like this."\r
+\r
+He took a potato, drew out his clasp knife, cut the potato into two\r
+equal halves on the palm of his hand, sprinkled some salt on it from the\r
+rag, and handed it to Pierre.\r
+\r
+"The potatoes are grand!" he said once more. "Eat some like that!"\r
+\r
+Pierre thought he had never eaten anything that tasted better.\r
+\r
+"Oh, I'm all right," said he, "but why did they shoot those poor\r
+fellows? The last one was hardly twenty."\r
+\r
+"Tss, tt...!" said the little man. "Ah, what a sin... what a sin!" he\r
+added quickly, and as if his words were always waiting ready in his\r
+mouth and flew out involuntarily he went on: "How was it, sir, that you\r
+stayed in Moscow?"\r
+\r
+"I didn't think they would come so soon. I stayed accidentally," replied\r
+Pierre.\r
+\r
+"And how did they arrest you, dear lad? At your house?"\r
+\r
+"No, I went to look at the fire, and they arrested me there, and tried\r
+me as an incendiary."\r
+\r
+"Where there's law there's injustice," put in the little man.\r
+\r
+"And have you been here long?" Pierre asked as he munched the last of\r
+the potato.\r
+\r
+"I? It was last Sunday they took me, out of a hospital in Moscow."\r
+\r
+"Why, are you a soldier then?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, we are soldiers of the Apsheron regiment. I was dying of fever. We\r
+weren't told anything. There were some twenty of us lying there. We had\r
+no idea, never guessed at all."\r
+\r
+"And do you feel sad here?" Pierre inquired.\r
+\r
+"How can one help it, lad? My name is Platon, and the surname is\r
+Karataev," he added, evidently wishing to make it easier for Pierre to\r
+address him. "They call me 'little falcon' in the regiment. How is one\r
+to help feeling sad? Moscow--she's the mother of cities. How can one see\r
+all this and not feel sad? But 'the maggot gnaws the cabbage, yet dies\r
+first'; that's what the old folks used to tell us," he added rapidly.\r
+\r
+"What? What did you say?" asked Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Who? I?" said Karataev. "I say things happen not as we plan but as God\r
+judges," he replied, thinking that he was repeating what he had said\r
+before, and immediately continued:\r
+\r
+"Well, and you, have you a family estate, sir? And a house? So you have\r
+abundance, then? And a housewife? And your old parents, are they still\r
+living?" he asked.\r
+\r
+And though it was too dark for Pierre to see, he felt that a suppressed\r
+smile of kindliness puckered the soldier's lips as he put these\r
+questions. He seemed grieved that Pierre had no parents, especially that\r
+he had no mother.\r
+\r
+"A wife for counsel, a mother-in-law for welcome, but there's none as\r
+dear as one's own mother!" said he. "Well, and have you little ones?" he\r
+went on asking.\r
+\r
+Again Pierre's negative answer seemed to distress him, and he hastened\r
+to add:\r
+\r
+"Never mind! You're young folks yet, and please God may still have some.\r
+The great thing is to live in harmony...."\r
+\r
+"But it's all the same now," Pierre could not help saying.\r
+\r
+"Ah, my dear fellow!" rejoined Karataev, "never decline a prison or a\r
+beggar's sack!"\r
+\r
+He seated himself more comfortably and coughed, evidently preparing to\r
+tell a long story.\r
+\r
+"Well, my dear fellow, I was still living at home," he began. "We had a\r
+well-to-do homestead, plenty of land, we peasants lived well and our\r
+house was one to thank God for. When Father and we went out mowing there\r
+were seven of us. We lived well. We were real peasants. It so\r
+happened..."\r
+\r
+And Platon Karataev told a long story of how he had gone into someone's\r
+copse to take wood, how he had been caught by the keeper, had been\r
+tried, flogged, and sent to serve as a soldier.\r
+\r
+"Well, lad," and a smile changed the tone of his voice "we thought it\r
+was a misfortune but it turned out a blessing! If it had not been for my\r
+sin, my brother would have had to go as a soldier. But he, my younger\r
+brother, had five little ones, while I, you see, only left a wife\r
+behind. We had a little girl, but God took her before I went as a\r
+soldier. I come home on leave and I'll tell you how it was, I look and\r
+see that they are living better than before. The yard full of cattle,\r
+the women at home, two brothers away earning wages, and only Michael the\r
+youngest, at home. Father, he says, 'All my children are the same to me:\r
+it hurts the same whichever finger gets bitten. But if Platon hadn't\r
+been shaved for a soldier, Michael would have had to go.' called us all\r
+to him and, will you believe it, placed us in front of the icons.\r
+'Michael,' he says, 'come here and bow down to his feet; and you, young\r
+woman, you bow down too; and you, grandchildren, also bow down before\r
+him! Do you understand?' he says. That's how it is, dear fellow. Fate\r
+looks for a head. But we are always judging, 'that's not well--that's\r
+not right!' Our luck is like water in a dragnet: you pull at it and it\r
+bulges, but when you've drawn it out it's empty! That's how it is."\r
+\r
+And Platon shifted his seat on the straw.\r
+\r
+After a short silence he rose.\r
+\r
+"Well, I think you must be sleepy," said he, and began rapidly crossing\r
+himself and repeating:\r
+\r
+"Lord Jesus Christ, holy Saint Nicholas, Frola and Lavra! Lord Jesus\r
+Christ, holy Saint Nicholas, Frola and Lavra! Lord Jesus Christ, have\r
+mercy on us and save us!" he concluded, then bowed to the ground, got\r
+up, sighed, and sat down again on his heap of straw. "That's the way.\r
+Lay me down like a stone, O God, and raise me up like a loaf," he\r
+muttered as he lay down, pulling his coat over him.\r
+\r
+"What prayer was that you were saying?" asked Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Eh?" murmured Platon, who had almost fallen asleep. "What was I saying?\r
+I was praying. Don't you pray?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, I do," said Pierre. "But what was that you said: Frola and Lavra?"\r
+\r
+"Well, of course," replied Platon quickly, "the horses' saints. One must\r
+pity the animals too. Eh, the rascal! Now you've curled up and got warm,\r
+you daughter of a bitch!" said Karataev, touching the dog that lay at\r
+his feet, and again turning over he fell asleep immediately.\r
+\r
+Sounds of crying and screaming came from somewhere in the distance\r
+outside, and flames were visible through the cracks of the shed, but\r
+inside it was quiet and dark. For a long time Pierre did not sleep, but\r
+lay with eyes open in the darkness, listening to the regular snoring of\r
+Platon who lay beside him, and he felt that the world that had been\r
+shattered was once more stirring in his soul with a new beauty and on\r
+new and unshakable foundations.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIII\r
+\r
+Twenty-three soldiers, three officers, and two officials were confined\r
+in the shed in which Pierre had been placed and where he remained for\r
+four weeks.\r
+\r
+When Pierre remembered them afterwards they all seemed misty figures to\r
+him except Platon Karataev, who always remained in his mind a most vivid\r
+and precious memory and the personification of everything Russian,\r
+kindly, and round. When Pierre saw his neighbor next morning at dawn the\r
+first impression of him, as of something round, was fully confirmed:\r
+Platon's whole figure--in a French overcoat girdled with a cord, a\r
+soldier's cap, and bast shoes--was round. His head was quite round, his\r
+back, chest, shoulders, and even his arms, which he held as if ever\r
+ready to embrace something, were rounded, his pleasant smile and his\r
+large, gentle brown eyes were also round.\r
+\r
+Platon Karataev must have been fifty, judging by his stories of\r
+campaigns he had been in, told as by an old soldier. He did not himself\r
+know his age and was quite unable to determine it. But his brilliantly\r
+white, strong teeth which showed in two unbroken semicircles when he\r
+laughed--as he often did--were all sound and good, there was not a gray\r
+hair in his beard or on his head, and his whole body gave an impression\r
+of suppleness and especially of firmness and endurance.\r
+\r
+His face, despite its fine, rounded wrinkles, had an expression of\r
+innocence and youth, his voice was pleasant and musical. But the chief\r
+peculiarity of his speech was its directness and appositeness. It was\r
+evident that he never considered what he had said or was going to say,\r
+and consequently the rapidity and justice of his intonation had an\r
+irresistible persuasiveness.\r
+\r
+His physical strength and agility during the first days of his\r
+imprisonment were such that he seemed not to know what fatigue and\r
+sickness meant. Every night before lying down, he said: "Lord, lay me\r
+down as a stone and raise me up as a loaf!" and every morning on getting\r
+up, he said: "I lay down and curled up, I get up and shake myself." And\r
+indeed he only had to lie down, to fall asleep like a stone, and he only\r
+had to shake himself, to be ready without a moment's delay for some\r
+work, just as children are ready to play directly they awake. He could\r
+do everything, not very well but not badly. He baked, cooked, sewed,\r
+planed, and mended boots. He was always busy, and only at night allowed\r
+himself conversation--of which he was fond--and songs. He did not sing\r
+like a trained singer who knows he is listened to, but like the birds,\r
+evidently giving vent to the sounds in the same way that one stretches\r
+oneself or walks about to get rid of stiffness, and the sounds were\r
+always high-pitched, mournful, delicate, and almost feminine, and his\r
+face at such times was very serious.\r
+\r
+Having been taken prisoner and allowed his beard to grow, he seemed to\r
+have thrown off all that had been forced upon him--everything military\r
+and alien to himself--and had returned to his former peasant habits.\r
+\r
+"A soldier on leave--a shirt outside breeches," he would say.\r
+\r
+He did not like talking about his life as a soldier, though he did not\r
+complain, and often mentioned that he had not been flogged once during\r
+the whole of his army service. When he related anything it was generally\r
+some old and evidently precious memory of his "Christian" life, as he\r
+called his peasant existence. The proverbs, of which his talk was full,\r
+were for the most part not the coarse and indecent saws soldiers employ,\r
+but those folk sayings which taken without a context seem so\r
+insignificant, but when used appositely suddenly acquire a significance\r
+of profound wisdom.\r
+\r
+He would often say the exact opposite of what he had said on a previous\r
+occasion, yet both would be right. He liked to talk and he talked well,\r
+adorning his speech with terms of endearment and with folk sayings which\r
+Pierre thought he invented himself, but the chief charm of his talk lay\r
+in the fact that the commonest events--sometimes just such as Pierre had\r
+witnessed without taking notice of them--assumed in Karataev's a\r
+character of solemn fitness. He liked to hear the folk tales one of the\r
+soldiers used to tell of an evening (they were always the same), but\r
+most of all he liked to hear stories of real life. He would smile\r
+joyfully when listening to such stories, now and then putting in a word\r
+or asking a question to make the moral beauty of what he was told clear\r
+to himself. Karataev had no attachments, friendships, or love, as Pierre\r
+understood them, but loved and lived affectionately with everything life\r
+brought him in contact with, particularly with man--not any particular\r
+man, but those with whom he happened to be. He loved his dog, his\r
+comrades, the French, and Pierre who was his neighbor, but Pierre felt\r
+that in spite of Karataev's affectionate tenderness for him (by which he\r
+unconsciously gave Pierre's spiritual life its due) he would not have\r
+grieved for a moment at parting from him. And Pierre began to feel in\r
+the same way toward Karataev.\r
+\r
+To all the other prisoners Platon Karataev seemed a most ordinary\r
+soldier. They called him "little falcon" or "Platosha," chaffed him\r
+good-naturedly, and sent him on errands. But to Pierre he always\r
+remained what he had seemed that first night: an unfathomable, rounded,\r
+eternal personification of the spirit of simplicity and truth.\r
+\r
+Platon Karataev knew nothing by heart except his prayers. When he began\r
+to speak he seemed not to know how he would conclude.\r
+\r
+Sometimes Pierre, struck by the meaning of his words, would ask him to\r
+repeat them, but Platon could never recall what he had said a moment\r
+before, just as he never could repeat to Pierre the words of his\r
+favorite song: native and birch tree and my heart is sick occurred in\r
+it, but when spoken and not sung, no meaning could be got out of it. He\r
+did not, and could not, understand the meaning of words apart from their\r
+context. Every word and action of his was the manifestation of an\r
+activity unknown to him, which was his life. But his life, as he\r
+regarded it, had no meaning as a separate thing. It had meaning only as\r
+part of a whole of which he was always conscious. His words and actions\r
+flowed from him as evenly, inevitably, and spontaneously as fragrance\r
+exhales from a flower. He could not understand the value or significance\r
+of any word or deed taken separately.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIV\r
+\r
+When Princess Mary heard from Nicholas that her brother was with the\r
+Rostovs at Yaroslavl she at once prepared to go there, in spite of her\r
+aunt's efforts to dissuade her--and not merely to go herself but to take\r
+her nephew with her. Whether it were difficult or easy, possible or\r
+impossible, she did not ask and did not want to know: it was her duty,\r
+not only to herself, to be near her brother who was perhaps dying, but\r
+to do everything possible to take his son to him, and so she prepared to\r
+set off. That she had not heard from Prince Andrew himself, Princess\r
+Mary attributed to his being too weak to write or to his considering the\r
+long journey too hard and too dangerous for her and his son.\r
+\r
+In a few days Princess Mary was ready to start. Her equipages were the\r
+huge family coach in which she had traveled to Voronezh, a semiopen\r
+trap, and a baggage cart. With her traveled Mademoiselle Bourienne,\r
+little Nicholas and his tutor, her old nurse, three maids, Tikhon, and a\r
+young footman and courier her aunt had sent to accompany her.\r
+\r
+The usual route through Moscow could not be thought of, and the\r
+roundabout way Princess Mary was obliged to take through Lipetsk,\r
+Ryazan, Vladimir, and Shuya was very long and, as post horses were not\r
+everywhere obtainable, very difficult, and near Ryazan where the French\r
+were said to have shown themselves was even dangerous.\r
+\r
+During this difficult journey Mademoiselle Bourienne, Dessalles, and\r
+Princess Mary's servants were astonished at her energy and firmness of\r
+spirit. She went to bed later and rose earlier than any of them, and no\r
+difficulties daunted her. Thanks to her activity and energy, which\r
+infected her fellow travelers, they approached Yaroslavl by the end of\r
+the second week.\r
+\r
+The last days of her stay in Voronezh had been the happiest of her life.\r
+Her love for Rostov no longer tormented or agitated her. It filled her\r
+whole soul, had become an integral part of herself, and she no longer\r
+struggled against it. Latterly she had become convinced that she loved\r
+and was beloved, though she never said this definitely to herself in\r
+words. She had become convinced of it at her last interview with\r
+Nicholas, when he had come to tell her that her brother was with the\r
+Rostovs. Not by a single word had Nicholas alluded to the fact that\r
+Prince Andrew's relations with Natasha might, if he recovered, be\r
+renewed, but Princess Mary saw by his face that he knew and thought of\r
+this.\r
+\r
+Yet in spite of that, his relation to her--considerate, delicate, and\r
+loving--not only remained unchanged, but it sometimes seemed to Princess\r
+Mary that he was even glad that the family connection between them\r
+allowed him to express his friendship more freely. She knew that she\r
+loved for the first and only time in her life and felt that she was\r
+beloved, and was happy in regard to it.\r
+\r
+But this happiness on one side of her spiritual nature did not prevent\r
+her feeling grief for her brother with full force; on the contrary, that\r
+spiritual tranquility on the one side made it the more possible for her\r
+to give full play to her feeling for her brother. That feeling was so\r
+strong at the moment of leaving Voronezh that those who saw her off, as\r
+they looked at her careworn, despairing face, felt sure she would fall\r
+ill on the journey. But the very difficulties and preoccupations of the\r
+journey, which she took so actively in hand, saved her for a while from\r
+her grief and gave her strength.\r
+\r
+As always happens when traveling, Princess Mary thought only of the\r
+journey itself, forgetting its object. But as she approached Yaroslavl\r
+the thought of what might await her there--not after many days, but that\r
+very evening--again presented itself to her and her agitation increased\r
+to its utmost limit.\r
+\r
+The courier who had been sent on in advance to find out where the\r
+Rostovs were staying in Yaroslavl, and in what condition Prince Andrew\r
+was, when he met the big coach just entering the town gates was appalled\r
+by the terrible pallor of the princess' face that looked out at him from\r
+the window.\r
+\r
+"I have found out everything, your excellency: the Rostovs are staying\r
+at the merchant Bronnikov's house, in the Square not far from here,\r
+right above the Volga," said the courier.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary looked at him with frightened inquiry, not understanding\r
+why he did not reply to what she chiefly wanted to know: how was her\r
+brother? Mademoiselle Bourienne put that question for her.\r
+\r
+"How is the prince?" she asked.\r
+\r
+"His excellency is staying in the same house with them."\r
+\r
+"Then he is alive," thought Princess Mary, and asked in a low voice:\r
+"How is he?"\r
+\r
+"The servants say he is still the same."\r
+\r
+What "still the same" might mean Princess Mary did not ask, but with an\r
+unnoticed glance at little seven-year-old Nicholas, who was sitting in\r
+front of her looking with pleasure at the town, she bowed her head and\r
+did not raise it again till the heavy coach, rumbling, shaking and\r
+swaying, came to a stop. The carriage steps clattered as they were let\r
+down.\r
+\r
+The carriage door was opened. On the left there was water--a great\r
+river--and on the right a porch. There were people at the entrance:\r
+servants, and a rosy girl with a large plait of black hair, smiling as\r
+it seemed to Princess Mary in an unpleasantly affected way. (This was\r
+Sonya.) Princess Mary ran up the steps. "This way, this way!" said the\r
+girl, with the same artificial smile, and the princess found herself in\r
+the hall facing an elderly woman of Oriental type, who came rapidly to\r
+meet her with a look of emotion. This was the countess. She embraced\r
+Princess Mary and kissed her.\r
+\r
+"Mon enfant!" she muttered, "je vous aime et vous connais depuis\r
+longtemps." *\r
+\r
+\r
+* "My child! I love you and have known you a long time."\r
+\r
+\r
+Despite her excitement, Princess Mary realized that this was the\r
+countess and that it was necessary to say something to her. Hardly\r
+knowing how she did it, she contrived to utter a few polite phrases in\r
+French in the same tone as those that had been addressed to her, and\r
+asked: "How is he?"\r
+\r
+"The doctor says that he is not in danger," said the countess, but as\r
+she spoke she raised her eyes with a sigh, and her gesture conveyed a\r
+contradiction of her words.\r
+\r
+"Where is he? Can I see him--can I?" asked the princess.\r
+\r
+"One moment, Princess, one moment, my dear! Is this his son?" said the\r
+countess, turning to little Nicholas who was coming in with Dessalles.\r
+"There will be room for everybody, this is a big house. Oh, what a\r
+lovely boy!"\r
+\r
+The countess took Princess Mary into the drawing room, where Sonya was\r
+talking to Mademoiselle Bourienne. The countess caressed the boy, and\r
+the old count came in and welcomed the princess. He had changed very\r
+much since Princess Mary had last seen him. Then he had been a brisk,\r
+cheerful, self-assured old man; now he seemed a pitiful, bewildered\r
+person. While talking to Princess Mary he continually looked round as if\r
+asking everyone whether he was doing the right thing. After the\r
+destruction of Moscow and of his property, thrown out of his accustomed\r
+groove he seemed to have lost the sense of his own significance and to\r
+feel that there was no longer a place for him in life.\r
+\r
+In spite of her one desire to see her brother as soon as possible, and\r
+her vexation that at the moment when all she wanted was to see him they\r
+should be trying to entertain her and pretending to admire her nephew,\r
+the princess noticed all that was going on around her and felt the\r
+necessity of submitting, for a time, to this new order of things which\r
+she had entered. She knew it to be necessary, and though it was hard for\r
+her she was not vexed with these people.\r
+\r
+"This is my niece," said the count, introducing Sonya--"You don't know\r
+her, Princess?"\r
+\r
+Princess Mary turned to Sonya and, trying to stifle the hostile feeling\r
+that arose in her toward the girl, she kissed her. But she felt\r
+oppressed by the fact that the mood of everyone around her was so far\r
+from what was in her own heart.\r
+\r
+"Where is he?" she asked again, addressing them all.\r
+\r
+"He is downstairs. Natasha is with him," answered Sonya, flushing. "We\r
+have sent to ask. I think you must be tired, Princess."\r
+\r
+Tears of vexation showed themselves in Princess Mary's eyes. She turned\r
+away and was about to ask the countess again how to go to him, when\r
+light, impetuous, and seemingly buoyant steps were heard at the door.\r
+The princess looked round and saw Natasha coming in, almost running--\r
+that Natasha whom she had liked so little at their meeting in Moscow\r
+long since.\r
+\r
+But hardly had the princess looked at Natasha's face before she realized\r
+that here was a real comrade in her grief, and consequently a friend.\r
+She ran to meet her, embraced her, and began to cry on her shoulder.\r
+\r
+As soon as Natasha, sitting at the head of Prince Andrew's bed, heard of\r
+Princess Mary's arrival, she softly left his room and hastened to her\r
+with those swift steps that had sounded buoyant to Princess Mary.\r
+\r
+There was only one expression on her agitated face when she ran into the\r
+drawing room--that of love--boundless love for him, for her, and for all\r
+that was near to the man she loved; and of pity, suffering for others,\r
+and passionate desire to give herself entirely to helping them. It was\r
+plain that at that moment there was in Natasha's heart no thought of\r
+herself or of her own relations with Prince Andrew.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary, with her acute sensibility, understood all this at the\r
+first glance at Natasha's face, and wept on her shoulder with sorrowful\r
+pleasure.\r
+\r
+"Come, come to him, Mary," said Natasha, leading her into the other\r
+room.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary raised her head, dried her eyes, and turned to Natasha.\r
+She felt that from her she would be able to understand and learn\r
+everything.\r
+\r
+"How..." she began her question but stopped short.\r
+\r
+She felt that it was impossible to ask, or to answer, in words.\r
+Natasha's face and eyes would have to tell her all more clearly and\r
+profoundly.\r
+\r
+Natasha was gazing at her, but seemed afraid and in doubt whether to say\r
+all she knew or not; she seemed to feel that before those luminous eyes\r
+which penetrated into the very depths of her heart, it was impossible\r
+not to tell the whole truth which she saw. And suddenly, Natasha's lips\r
+twitched, ugly wrinkles gathered round her mouth, and covering her face\r
+with her hands she burst into sobs.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary understood.\r
+\r
+But she still hoped, and asked, in words she herself did not trust:\r
+\r
+"But how is his wound? What is his general condition?"\r
+\r
+"You, you... will see," was all Natasha could say.\r
+\r
+They sat a little while downstairs near his room till they had left off\r
+crying and were able to go to him with calm faces.\r
+\r
+"How has his whole illness gone? Is it long since he grew worse? When\r
+did this happen?" Princess Mary inquired.\r
+\r
+Natasha told her that at first there had been danger from his feverish\r
+condition and the pain he suffered, but at Troitsa that had passed and\r
+the doctor had only been afraid of gangrene. That danger had also\r
+passed. When they reached Yaroslavl the wound had begun to fester\r
+(Natasha knew all about such things as festering) and the doctor had\r
+said that the festering might take a normal course. Then fever set in,\r
+but the doctor had said the fever was not very serious.\r
+\r
+"But two days ago this suddenly happened," said Natasha, struggling with\r
+her sobs. "I don't know why, but you will see what he is like."\r
+\r
+"Is he weaker? Thinner?" asked the princess.\r
+\r
+"No, it's not that, but worse. You will see. O, Mary, he is too good, he\r
+cannot, cannot live, because..."\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XV\r
+\r
+When Natasha opened Prince Andrew's door with a familiar movement and\r
+let Princess Mary pass into the room before her, the princess felt the\r
+sobs in her throat. Hard as she had tried to prepare herself, and now\r
+tried to remain tranquil, she knew that she would be unable to look at\r
+him without tears.\r
+\r
+The princess understood what Natasha had meant by the words: "two days\r
+ago this suddenly happened." She understood those words to mean that he\r
+had suddenly softened and that this softening and gentleness were signs\r
+of approaching death. As she stepped to the door she already saw in\r
+imagination Andrew's face as she remembered it in childhood, a gentle,\r
+mild, sympathetic face which he had rarely shown, and which therefore\r
+affected her very strongly. She was sure he would speak soft, tender\r
+words to her such as her father had uttered before his death, and that\r
+she would not be able to bear it and would burst into sobs in his\r
+presence. Yet sooner or later it had to be, and she went in. The sobs\r
+rose higher and higher in her throat as she more and more clearly\r
+distinguished his form and her shortsighted eyes tried to make out his\r
+features, and then she saw his face and met his gaze.\r
+\r
+He was lying in a squirrel-fur dressing gown on a divan, surrounded by\r
+pillows. He was thin and pale. In one thin, translucently white hand he\r
+held a handkerchief, while with the other he stroked the delicate\r
+mustache he had grown, moving his fingers slowly. His eyes gazed at them\r
+as they entered.\r
+\r
+On seeing his face and meeting his eyes Princess Mary's pace suddenly\r
+slackened, she felt her tears dry up and her sobs ceased. She suddenly\r
+felt guilty and grew timid on catching the expression of his face and\r
+eyes.\r
+\r
+"But in what am I to blame?" she asked herself. And his cold, stern look\r
+replied: "Because you are alive and thinking of the living, while I..."\r
+\r
+In the deep gaze that seemed to look not outwards but inwards there was\r
+an almost hostile expression as he slowly regarded his sister and\r
+Natasha.\r
+\r
+He kissed his sister, holding her hand in his as was their wont.\r
+\r
+"How are you, Mary? How did you manage to get here?" said he in a voice\r
+as calm and aloof as his look.\r
+\r
+Had he screamed in agony, that scream would not have struck such horror\r
+into Princess Mary's heart as the tone of his voice.\r
+\r
+"And have you brought little Nicholas?" he asked in the same slow, quiet\r
+manner and with an obvious effort to remember.\r
+\r
+"How are you now?" said Princess Mary, herself surprised at what she was\r
+saying.\r
+\r
+"That, my dear, you must ask the doctor," he replied, and again making\r
+an evident effort to be affectionate, he said with his lips only (his\r
+words clearly did not correspond to his thoughts):\r
+\r
+"Merci, chere amie, d'etre venue." *\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Thank you for coming, my dear."\r
+\r
+Princess Mary pressed his hand. The pressure made him wince just\r
+perceptibly. He was silent, and she did not know what to say. She now\r
+understood what had happened to him two days before. In his words, his\r
+tone, and especially in that calm, almost antagonistic look could be\r
+felt an estrangement from everything belonging to this world, terrible\r
+in one who is alive. Evidently only with an effort did he understand\r
+anything living; but it was obvious that he failed to understand, not\r
+because he lacked the power to do so but because he understood something\r
+else--something the living did not and could not understand--and which\r
+wholly occupied his mind.\r
+\r
+"There, you see how strangely fate has brought us together," said he,\r
+breaking the silence and pointing to Natasha. "She looks after me all\r
+the time."\r
+\r
+Princess Mary heard him and did not understand how he could say such a\r
+thing. He, the sensitive, tender Prince Andrew, how could he say that,\r
+before her whom he loved and who loved him? Had he expected to live he\r
+could not have said those words in that offensively cold tone. If he had\r
+not known that he was dying, how could he have failed to pity her and\r
+how could he speak like that in her presence? The only explanation was\r
+that he was indifferent, because something else, much more important,\r
+had been revealed to him.\r
+\r
+The conversation was cold and disconnected and continually broke off.\r
+\r
+"Mary came by way of Ryazan," said Natasha.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew did not notice that she called his sister Mary, and only\r
+after calling her so in his presence did Natasha notice it herself.\r
+\r
+"Really?" he asked.\r
+\r
+"They told her that all Moscow has been burned down, and that..."\r
+\r
+Natasha stopped. It was impossible to talk. It was plain that he was\r
+making an effort to listen, but could not do so.\r
+\r
+"Yes, they say it's burned," he said. "It's a great pity," and he gazed\r
+straight before him, absently stroking his mustache with his fingers.\r
+\r
+"And so you have met Count Nicholas, Mary?" Prince Andrew suddenly said,\r
+evidently wishing to speak pleasantly to them. "He wrote here that he\r
+took a great liking to you," he went on simply and calmly, evidently\r
+unable to understand all the complex significance his words had for\r
+living people. "If you liked him too, it would be a good thing for you\r
+to get married," he added rather more quickly, as if pleased at having\r
+found words he had long been seeking.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary heard his words but they had no meaning for her, except as\r
+a proof of how far away he now was from everything living.\r
+\r
+"Why talk of me?" she said quietly and glanced at Natasha.\r
+\r
+Natasha, who felt her glance, did not look at her. All three were again\r
+silent.\r
+\r
+"Andrew, would you like..." Princess Mary suddenly said in a trembling\r
+voice, "would you like to see little Nicholas? He is always talking\r
+about you!"\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew smiled just perceptibly and for the first time, but\r
+Princess Mary, who knew his face so well, saw with horror that he did\r
+not smile with pleasure or affection for his son, but with quiet, gentle\r
+irony because he thought she was trying what she believed to be the last\r
+means of arousing him.\r
+\r
+"Yes, I shall be very glad to see him. Is he quite well?"\r
+\r
+When little Nicholas was brought into Prince Andrew's room he looked at\r
+his father with frightened eyes, but did not cry, because no one else\r
+was crying. Prince Andrew kissed him and evidently did not know what to\r
+say to him.\r
+\r
+When Nicholas had been led away, Princess Mary again went up to her\r
+brother, kissed him, and unable to restrain her tears any longer began\r
+to cry.\r
+\r
+He looked at her attentively.\r
+\r
+"Is it about Nicholas?" he asked.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary nodded her head, weeping.\r
+\r
+"Mary, you know the Gosp..." but he broke off.\r
+\r
+"What did you say?"\r
+\r
+"Nothing. You mustn't cry here," he said, looking at her with the same\r
+cold expression.\r
+\r
+When Princess Mary began to cry, he understood that she was crying at\r
+the thought that little Nicholas would be left without a father. With a\r
+great effort he tried to return to life and to see things from their\r
+point of view.\r
+\r
+"Yes, to them it must seem sad!" he thought. "But how simple it is.\r
+\r
+"The fowls of the air sow not, neither do they reap, yet your Father\r
+feedeth them," he said to himself and wished to say to Princess Mary;\r
+"but no, they will take it their own way, they won't understand! They\r
+can't understand that all those feelings they prize so--all our\r
+feelings, all those ideas that seem so important to us, are unnecessary.\r
+We cannot understand one another," and he remained silent.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew's little son was seven. He could scarcely read, and knew\r
+nothing. After that day he lived through many things, gaining knowledge,\r
+observation, and experience, but had he possessed all the faculties he\r
+afterwards acquired, he could not have had a better or more profound\r
+understanding of the meaning of the scene he had witnessed between his\r
+father, Mary, and Natasha, than he had then. He understood it\r
+completely, and, leaving the room without crying, went silently up to\r
+Natasha who had come out with him and looked shyly at her with his\r
+beautiful, thoughtful eyes, then his uplifted, rosy upper lip trembled\r
+and leaning his head against her he began to cry.\r
+\r
+After that he avoided Dessalles and the countess who caressed him and\r
+either sat alone or came timidly to Princess Mary, or to Natasha of whom\r
+he seemed even fonder than of his aunt, and clung to them quietly and\r
+shyly.\r
+\r
+When Princess Mary had left Prince Andrew she fully understood what\r
+Natasha's face had told her. She did not speak any more to Natasha of\r
+hopes of saving his life. She took turns with her beside his sofa, and\r
+did not cry any more, but prayed continually, turning in soul to that\r
+Eternal and Unfathomable, whose presence above the dying man was now so\r
+evident.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVI\r
+\r
+Not only did Prince Andrew know he would die, but he felt that he was\r
+dying and was already half dead. He was conscious of an aloofness from\r
+everything earthly and a strange and joyous lightness of existence.\r
+Without haste or agitation he awaited what was coming. That inexorable,\r
+eternal, distant, and unknown the presence of which he had felt\r
+continually all his life--was now near to him and, by the strange\r
+lightness he experienced, almost comprehensible and palpable...\r
+\r
+\r
+Formerly he had feared the end. He had twice experienced that terribly\r
+tormenting fear of death--the end--but now he no longer understood that\r
+fear.\r
+\r
+He had felt it for the first time when the shell spun like a top before\r
+him, and he looked at the fallow field, the bushes, and the sky, and\r
+knew that he was face to face with death. When he came to himself after\r
+being wounded and the flower of eternal, unfettered love had instantly\r
+unfolded itself in his soul as if freed from the bondage of life that\r
+had restrained it, he no longer feared death and ceased to think about\r
+it.\r
+\r
+During the hours of solitude, suffering, and partial delirium he spent\r
+after he was wounded, the more deeply he penetrated into the new\r
+principle of eternal love revealed to him, the more he unconsciously\r
+detached himself from earthly life. To love everything and everybody and\r
+always to sacrifice oneself for love meant not to love anyone, not to\r
+live this earthly life. And the more imbued he became with that\r
+principle of love, the more he renounced life and the more completely he\r
+destroyed that dreadful barrier which--in the absence of such love--\r
+stands between life and death. When during those first days he\r
+remembered that he would have to die, he said to himself: "Well, what of\r
+it? So much the better!"\r
+\r
+But after the night in Mytishchi when, half delirious, he had seen her\r
+for whom he longed appear before him and, having pressed her hand to his\r
+lips, had shed gentle, happy tears, love for a particular woman again\r
+crept unobserved into his heart and once more bound him to life. And\r
+joyful and agitating thoughts began to occupy his mind. Recalling the\r
+moment at the ambulance station when he had seen Kuragin, he could not\r
+now regain the feeling he then had, but was tormented by the question\r
+whether Kuragin was alive. And he dared not inquire.\r
+\r
+His illness pursued its normal physical course, but what Natasha\r
+referred to when she said: "This suddenly happened," had occurred two\r
+days before Princess Mary arrived. It was the last spiritual struggle\r
+between life and death, in which death gained the victory. It was the\r
+unexpected realization of the fact that he still valued life as\r
+presented to him in the form of his love for Natasha, and a last, though\r
+ultimately vanquished, attack of terror before the unknown.\r
+\r
+It was evening. As usual after dinner he was slightly feverish, and his\r
+thoughts were preternaturally clear. Sonya was sitting by the table. He\r
+began to doze. Suddenly a feeling of happiness seized him.\r
+\r
+"Ah, she has come!" thought he.\r
+\r
+And so it was: in Sonya's place sat Natasha who had just come in\r
+noiselessly.\r
+\r
+Since she had begun looking after him, he had always experienced this\r
+physical consciousness of her nearness. She was sitting in an armchair\r
+placed sideways, screening the light of the candle from him, and was\r
+knitting a stocking. She had learned to knit stockings since Prince\r
+Andrew had casually mentioned that no one nursed the sick so well as old\r
+nurses who knit stockings, and that there is something soothing in the\r
+knitting of stockings. The needles clicked lightly in her slender,\r
+rapidly moving hands, and he could clearly see the thoughtful profile of\r
+her drooping face. She moved, and the ball rolled off her knees. She\r
+started, glanced round at him, and screening the candle with her hand\r
+stooped carefully with a supple and exact movement, picked up the ball,\r
+and regained her former position.\r
+\r
+He looked at her without moving and saw that she wanted to draw a deep\r
+breath after stooping, but refrained from doing so and breathed\r
+cautiously.\r
+\r
+At the Troitsa monastery they had spoken of the past, and he had told\r
+her that if he lived he would always thank God for his wound which had\r
+brought them together again, but after that they never spoke of the\r
+future.\r
+\r
+"Can it or can it not be?" he now thought as he looked at her and\r
+listened to the light click of the steel needles. "Can fate have brought\r
+me to her so strangely only for me to die?... Is it possible that the\r
+truth of life has been revealed to me only to show me that I have spent\r
+my life in falsity? I love her more than anything in the world! But what\r
+am I to do if I love her?" he thought, and he involuntarily groaned,\r
+from a habit acquired during his sufferings.\r
+\r
+On hearing that sound Natasha put down the stocking, leaned nearer to\r
+him, and suddenly, noticing his shining eyes, stepped lightly up to him\r
+and bent over him.\r
+\r
+"You are not asleep?"\r
+\r
+"No, I have been looking at you a long time. I felt you come in. No one\r
+else gives me that sense of soft tranquillity that you do... that light.\r
+I want to weep for joy."\r
+\r
+Natasha drew closer to him. Her face shone with rapturous joy.\r
+\r
+"Natasha, I love you too much! More than anything in the world."\r
+\r
+"And I!"--She turned away for an instant. "Why too much?" she asked.\r
+\r
+"Why too much?... Well, what do you, what do you feel in your soul, your\r
+whole soul--shall I live? What do you think?"\r
+\r
+"I am sure of it, sure!" Natasha almost shouted, taking hold of both his\r
+hands with a passionate movement.\r
+\r
+He remained silent awhile.\r
+\r
+"How good it would be!" and taking her hand he kissed it.\r
+\r
+Natasha felt happy and agitated, but at once remembered that this would\r
+not do and that he had to be quiet.\r
+\r
+"But you have not slept," she said, repressing her joy. "Try to sleep...\r
+please!"\r
+\r
+He pressed her hand and released it, and she went back to the candle and\r
+sat down again in her former position. Twice she turned and looked at\r
+him, and her eyes met his beaming at her. She set herself a task on her\r
+stocking and resolved not to turn round till it was finished.\r
+\r
+Soon he really shut his eyes and fell asleep. He did not sleep long and\r
+suddenly awoke with a start and in a cold perspiration.\r
+\r
+As he fell asleep he had still been thinking of the subject that now\r
+always occupied his mind--about life and death, and chiefly about death.\r
+He felt himself nearer to it.\r
+\r
+"Love? What is love?" he thought.\r
+\r
+"Love hinders death. Love is life. All, everything that I understand, I\r
+understand only because I love. Everything is, everything exists, only\r
+because I love. Everything is united by it alone. Love is God, and to\r
+die means that I, a particle of love, shall return to the general and\r
+eternal source." These thoughts seemed to him comforting. But they were\r
+only thoughts. Something was lacking in them, they were not clear, they\r
+were too one-sidedly personal and brain-spun. And there was the former\r
+agitation and obscurity. He fell asleep.\r
+\r
+He dreamed that he was lying in the room he really was in, but that he\r
+was quite well and unwounded. Many various, indifferent, and\r
+insignificant people appeared before him. He talked to them and\r
+discussed something trivial. They were preparing to go away somewhere.\r
+Prince Andrew dimly realized that all this was trivial and that he had\r
+more important cares, but he continued to speak, surprising them by\r
+empty witticisms. Gradually, unnoticed, all these persons began to\r
+disappear and a single question, that of the closed door, superseded all\r
+else. He rose and went to the door to bolt and lock it. Everything\r
+depended on whether he was, or was not, in time to lock it. He went, and\r
+tried to hurry, but his legs refused to move and he knew he would not be\r
+in time to lock the door though he painfully strained all his powers. He\r
+was seized by an agonizing fear. And that fear was the fear of death. It\r
+stood behind the door. But just when he was clumsily creeping toward the\r
+door, that dreadful something on the other side was already pressing\r
+against it and forcing its way in. Something not human--death--was\r
+breaking in through that door, and had to be kept out. He seized the\r
+door, making a final effort to hold it back--to lock it was no longer\r
+possible--but his efforts were weak and clumsy and the door, pushed from\r
+behind by that terror, opened and closed again.\r
+\r
+Once again it pushed from outside. His last superhuman efforts were vain\r
+and both halves of the door noiselessly opened. It entered, and it was\r
+death, and Prince Andrew died.\r
+\r
+But at the instant he died, Prince Andrew remembered that he was asleep,\r
+and at the very instant he died, having made an effort, he awoke.\r
+\r
+"Yes, it was death! I died--and woke up. Yes, death is an awakening!"\r
+And all at once it grew light in his soul and the veil that had till\r
+then concealed the unknown was lifted from his spiritual vision. He felt\r
+as if powers till then confined within him had been liberated, and that\r
+strange lightness did not again leave him.\r
+\r
+When, waking in a cold perspiration, he moved on the divan, Natasha went\r
+up and asked him what was the matter. He did not answer and looked at\r
+her strangely, not understanding.\r
+\r
+That was what had happened to him two days before Princess Mary's\r
+arrival. From that day, as the doctor expressed it, the wasting fever\r
+assumed a malignant character, but what the doctor said did not interest\r
+Natasha, she saw the terrible moral symptoms which to her were more\r
+convincing.\r
+\r
+From that day an awakening from life came to Prince Andrew together with\r
+his awakening from sleep. And compared to the duration of life it did\r
+not seem to him slower than an awakening from sleep compared to the\r
+duration of a dream.\r
+\r
+There was nothing terrible or violent in this comparatively slow\r
+awakening.\r
+\r
+His last days and hours passed in an ordinary and simple way. Both\r
+Princess Mary and Natasha, who did not leave him, felt this. They did\r
+not weep or shudder and during these last days they themselves felt that\r
+they were not attending on him (he was no longer there, he had left\r
+them) but on what reminded them most closely of him--his body. Both felt\r
+this so strongly that the outward and terrible side of death did not\r
+affect them and they did not feel it necessary to foment their grief.\r
+Neither in his presence nor out of it did they weep, nor did they ever\r
+talk to one another about him. They felt that they could not express in\r
+words what they understood.\r
+\r
+They both saw that he was sinking slowly and quietly, deeper and deeper,\r
+away from them, and they both knew that this had to be so and that it\r
+was right.\r
+\r
+He confessed, and received communion: everyone came to take leave of\r
+him. When they brought his son to him, he pressed his lips to the boy's\r
+and turned away, not because he felt it hard and sad (Princess Mary and\r
+Natasha understood that) but simply because he thought it was all that\r
+was required of him, but when they told him to bless the boy, he did\r
+what was demanded and looked round as if asking whether there was\r
+anything else he should do.\r
+\r
+When the last convulsions of the body, which the spirit was leaving,\r
+occurred, Princess Mary and Natasha were present.\r
+\r
+"Is it over?" said Princess Mary when his body had for a few minutes\r
+lain motionless, growing cold before them. Natasha went up, looked at\r
+the dead eyes, and hastened to close them. She closed them but did not\r
+kiss them, but clung to that which reminded her most nearly of him--his\r
+body.\r
+\r
+"Where has he gone? Where is he now?..."\r
+\r
+When the body, washed and dressed, lay in the coffin on a table,\r
+everyone came to take leave of him and they all wept.\r
+\r
+Little Nicholas cried because his heart was rent by painful perplexity.\r
+The countess and Sonya cried from pity for Natasha and because he was no\r
+more. The old count cried because he felt that before long, he, too,\r
+must take the same terrible step.\r
+\r
+Natasha and Princess Mary also wept now, but not because of their own\r
+personal grief; they wept with a reverent and softening emotion which\r
+had taken possession of their souls at the consciousness of the simple\r
+and solemn mystery of death that had been accomplished in their\r
+presence.\r
+\r
+BOOK THIRTEEN: 1812\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+Man's mind cannot grasp the causes of events in their completeness, but\r
+the desire to find those causes is implanted in man's soul. And without\r
+considering the multiplicity and complexity of the conditions any one of\r
+which taken separately may seem to be the cause, he snatches at the\r
+first approximation to a cause that seems to him intelligible and says:\r
+"This is the cause!" In historical events (where the actions of men are\r
+the subject of observation) the first and most primitive approximation\r
+to present itself was the will of the gods and, after that, the will of\r
+those who stood in the most prominent position--the heroes of history.\r
+But we need only penetrate to the essence of any historic event--which\r
+lies in the activity of the general mass of men who take part in it--to\r
+be convinced that the will of the historic hero does not control the\r
+actions of the mass but is itself continually controlled. It may seem to\r
+be a matter of indifference whether we understand the meaning of\r
+historical events this way or that; yet there is the same difference\r
+between a man who says that the people of the West moved on the East\r
+because Napoleon wished it and a man who says that this happened because\r
+it had to happen, as there is between those who declared that the earth\r
+was stationary and that the planets moved round it and those who\r
+admitted that they did not know what upheld the earth, but knew there\r
+were laws directing its movement and that of the other planets. There\r
+is, and can be, no cause of an historical event except the one cause of\r
+all causes. But there are laws directing events, and some of these laws\r
+are known to us while we are conscious of others we cannot comprehend.\r
+The discovery of these laws is only possible when we have quite\r
+abandoned the attempt to find the cause in the will of some one man,\r
+just as the discovery of the laws of the motion of the planets was\r
+possible only when men abandoned the conception of the fixity of the\r
+earth.\r
+\r
+The historians consider that, next to the battle of Borodino and the\r
+occupation of Moscow by the enemy and its destruction by fire, the most\r
+important episode of the war of 1812 was the movement of the Russian\r
+army from the Ryazana to the Kaluga road and to the Tarutino camp--the\r
+so-called flank march across the Krasnaya Pakhra River. They ascribe the\r
+glory of that achievement of genius to different men and dispute as to\r
+whom the honor is due. Even foreign historians, including the French,\r
+acknowledge the genius of the Russian commanders when they speak of that\r
+flank march. But it is hard to understand why military writers, and\r
+following them others, consider this flank march to be the profound\r
+conception of some one man who saved Russia and destroyed Napoleon. In\r
+the first place it is hard to understand where the profundity and genius\r
+of this movement lay, for not much mental effort was needed to see that\r
+the best position for an army when it is not being attacked is where\r
+there are most provisions; and even a dull boy of thirteen could have\r
+guessed that the best position for an army after its retreat from Moscow\r
+in 1812 was on the Kaluga road. So it is impossible to understand by\r
+what reasoning the historians reach the conclusion that this maneuver\r
+was a profound one. And it is even more difficult to understand just why\r
+they think that this maneuver was calculated to save Russia and destroy\r
+the French; for this flank march, had it been preceded, accompanied, or\r
+followed by other circumstances, might have proved ruinous to the\r
+Russians and salutary for the French. If the position of the Russian\r
+army really began to improve from the time of that march, it does not at\r
+all follow that the march was the cause of it.\r
+\r
+That flank march might not only have failed to give any advantage to the\r
+Russian army, but might in other circumstances have led to its\r
+destruction. What would have happened had Moscow not burned down? If\r
+Murat had not lost sight of the Russians? If Napoleon had not remained\r
+inactive? If the Russian army at Krasnaya Pakhra had given battle as\r
+Bennigsen and Barclay advised? What would have happened had the French\r
+attacked the Russians while they were marching beyond the Pakhra? What\r
+would have happened if on approaching Tarutino, Napoleon had attacked\r
+the Russians with but a tenth of the energy he had shown when he\r
+attacked them at Smolensk? What would have happened had the French moved\r
+on Petersburg?... In any of these eventualities the flank march that\r
+brought salvation might have proved disastrous.\r
+\r
+The third and most incomprehensible thing is that people studying\r
+history deliberately avoid seeing that this flank march cannot be\r
+attributed to any one man, that no one ever foresaw it, and that in\r
+reality, like the retreat from Fili, it did not suggest itself to anyone\r
+in its entirety, but resulted--moment by moment, step by step, event by\r
+event--from an endless number of most diverse circumstances and was only\r
+seen in its entirety when it had been accomplished and belonged to the\r
+past.\r
+\r
+At the council at Fili the prevailing thought in the minds of the\r
+Russian commanders was the one naturally suggesting itself, namely, a\r
+direct retreat by the Nizhni road. In proof of this there is the fact\r
+that the majority of the council voted for such a retreat, and above all\r
+there is the well-known conversation after the council, between the\r
+commander in chief and Lanskoy, who was in charge of the commissariat\r
+department. Lanskoy informed the commander-in-chief that the army\r
+supplies were for the most part stored along the Oka in the Tula and\r
+Ryazan provinces, and that if they retreated on Nizhni the army would be\r
+separated from its supplies by the broad river Oka, which cannot be\r
+crossed early in winter. This was the first indication of the necessity\r
+of deviating from what had previously seemed the most natural course--a\r
+direct retreat on Nizhni-Novgorod. The army turned more to the south,\r
+along the Ryazan road and nearer to its supplies. Subsequently the\r
+inactivity of the French (who even lost sight of the Russian army),\r
+concern for the safety of the arsenal at Tula, and especially the\r
+advantages of drawing nearer to its supplies caused the army to turn\r
+still further south to the Tula road. Having crossed over, by a forced\r
+march, to the Tula road beyond the Pakhra, the Russian commanders\r
+intended to remain at Podolsk and had no thought of the Tarutino\r
+position; but innumerable circumstances and the reappearance of French\r
+troops who had for a time lost touch with the Russians, and projects of\r
+giving battle, and above all the abundance of provisions in Kaluga\r
+province, obliged our army to turn still more to the south and to cross\r
+from the Tula to the Kaluga road and go to Tarutino, which was between\r
+the roads along which those supplies lay. Just as it is impossible to\r
+say when it was decided to abandon Moscow, so it is impossible to say\r
+precisely when, or by whom, it was decided to move to Tarutino. Only\r
+when the army had got there, as the result of innumerable and varying\r
+forces, did people begin to assure themselves that they had desired this\r
+movement and long ago foreseen its result.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+The famous flank movement merely consisted in this: after the advance of\r
+the French had ceased, the Russian army, which had been continually\r
+retreating straight back from the invaders, deviated from that direct\r
+course and, not finding itself pursued, was naturally drawn toward the\r
+district where supplies were abundant.\r
+\r
+If instead of imagining to ourselves commanders of genius leading the\r
+Russian army, we picture that army without any leaders, it could not\r
+have done anything but make a return movement toward Moscow, describing\r
+an arc in the direction where most provisions were to be found and where\r
+the country was richest.\r
+\r
+That movement from the Nizhni to the Ryazan, Tula, and Kaluga roads was\r
+so natural that even the Russian marauders moved in that direction, and\r
+demands were sent from Petersburg for Kutuzov to take his army that way.\r
+At Tarutino Kutuzov received what was almost a reprimand from the\r
+Emperor for having moved his army along the Ryazan road, and the\r
+Emperor's letter indicated to him the very position he had already\r
+occupied near Kaluga.\r
+\r
+Having rolled like a ball in the direction of the impetus given by the\r
+whole campaign and by the battle of Borodino, the Russian army--when the\r
+strength of that impetus was exhausted and no fresh push was received--\r
+assumed the position natural to it.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov's merit lay, not in any strategic maneuver of genius, as it is\r
+called, but in the fact that he alone understood the significance of\r
+what had happened. He alone then understood the meaning of the French\r
+army's inactivity, he alone continued to assert that the battle of\r
+Borodino had been a victory, he alone--who as commander-in-chief might\r
+have been expected to be eager to attack--employed his whole strength to\r
+restrain the Russian army from useless engagements.\r
+\r
+The beast wounded at Borodino was lying where the fleeing hunter had\r
+left him; but whether he was still alive, whether he was strong and\r
+merely lying low, the hunter did not know. Suddenly the beast was heard\r
+to moan.\r
+\r
+The moan of that wounded beast (the French army) which betrayed its\r
+calamitous condition was the sending of Lauriston to Kutuzov's camp with\r
+overtures for peace.\r
+\r
+Napoleon, with his usual assurance that whatever entered his head was\r
+right, wrote to Kutuzov the first words that occurred to him, though\r
+they were meaningless.\r
+\r
+MONSIEUR LE PRINCE KOUTOUZOV: I am sending one of my adjutants-general\r
+to discuss several interesting questions with you. I beg your Highness\r
+to credit what he says to you, especially when he expresses the\r
+sentiment of esteem and special regard I have long entertained for your\r
+person. This letter having no other object, I pray God, monsieur le\r
+Prince Koutouzov, to keep you in His holy and gracious protection!\r
+\r
+NAPOLEON MOSCOW, OCTOBER 30, 1812\r
+\r
+Kutuzov replied: "I should be cursed by posterity were I looked on as\r
+the initiator of a settlement of any sort. Such is the present spirit of\r
+my nation." But he continued to exert all his powers to restrain his\r
+troops from attacking.\r
+\r
+During the month that the French troops were pillaging in Moscow and the\r
+Russian troops were quietly encamped at Tarutino, a change had taken\r
+place in the relative strength of the two armies--both in spirit and in\r
+number--as a result of which the superiority had passed to the Russian\r
+side. Though the condition and numbers of the French army were unknown\r
+to the Russians, as soon as that change occurred the need of attacking\r
+at once showed itself by countless signs. These signs were: Lauriston's\r
+mission; the abundance of provisions at Tarutino; the reports coming in\r
+from all sides of the inactivity and disorder of the French; the flow of\r
+recruits to our regiments; the fine weather; the long rest the Russian\r
+soldiers had enjoyed, and the impatience to do what they had been\r
+assembled for, which usually shows itself in an army that has been\r
+resting; curiosity as to what the French army, so long lost sight of,\r
+was doing; the boldness with which our outposts now scouted close up to\r
+the French stationed at Tarutino; the news of easy successes gained by\r
+peasants and guerrilla troops over the French, the envy aroused by this;\r
+the desire for revenge that lay in the heart of every Russian as long as\r
+the French were in Moscow, and (above all) a dim consciousness in every\r
+soldier's mind that the relative strength of the armies had changed and\r
+that the advantage was now on our side. There was a substantial change\r
+in the relative strength, and an advance had become inevitable. And at\r
+once, as a clock begins to strike and chime as soon as the minute hand\r
+has completed a full circle, this change was shown by an increased\r
+activity, whirring, and chiming in the higher spheres.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+The Russian army was commanded by Kutuzov and his staff, and also by the\r
+Emperor from Petersburg. Before the news of the abandonment of Moscow\r
+had been received in Petersburg, a detailed plan of the whole campaign\r
+had been drawn up and sent to Kutuzov for his guidance. Though this plan\r
+had been drawn up on the supposition that Moscow was still in our hands,\r
+it was approved by the staff and accepted as a basis for action. Kutuzov\r
+only replied that movements arranged from a distance were always\r
+difficult to execute. So fresh instructions were sent for the solution\r
+of difficulties that might be encountered, as well as fresh people who\r
+were to watch Kutuzov's actions and report upon them.\r
+\r
+Besides this, the whole staff of the Russian army was now reorganized.\r
+The posts left vacant by Bagration, who had been killed, and by Barclay,\r
+who had gone away in dudgeon, had to be filled. Very serious\r
+consideration was given to the question whether it would be better to\r
+put A in B's place and B in D's, or on the contrary to put D in A's\r
+place, and so on--as if anything more than A's or B's satisfaction\r
+depended on this.\r
+\r
+As a result of the hostility between Kutuzov and Bennigsen, his Chief of\r
+Staff, the presence of confidential representatives of the Emperor, and\r
+these transfers, a more than usually complicated play of parties was\r
+going on among the staff of the army. A was undermining B, D was\r
+undermining C, and so on in all possible combinations and permutations.\r
+In all these plottings the subject of intrigue was generally the conduct\r
+of the war, which all these men believed they were directing; but this\r
+affair of the war went on independently of them, as it had to go: that\r
+is, never in the way people devised, but flowing always from the\r
+essential attitude of the masses. Only in the highest spheres did all\r
+these schemes, crossings, and interminglings appear to be a true\r
+reflection of what had to happen.\r
+\r
+Prince Michael Ilarionovich! (wrote the Emperor on the second of October\r
+in a letter that reached Kutuzov after the battle at Tarutino) Since\r
+September 2 Moscow has been in the hands of the enemy. Your last reports\r
+were written on the twentieth, and during all this time not only has no\r
+action been taken against the enemy or for the relief of the ancient\r
+capital, but according to your last report you have even retreated\r
+farther. Serpukhov is already occupied by an enemy detachment and Tula\r
+with its famous arsenal so indispensable to the army, is in danger. From\r
+General Wintzingerode's reports, I see that an enemy corps of ten\r
+thousand men is moving on the Petersburg road. Another corps of several\r
+thousand men is moving on Dmitrov. A third has advanced along the\r
+Vladimir road, and a fourth, rather considerable detachment is stationed\r
+between Ruza and Mozhaysk. Napoleon himself was in Moscow as late as the\r
+twenty-fifth. In view of all this information, when the enemy has\r
+scattered his forces in large detachments, and with Napoleon and his\r
+Guards in Moscow, is it possible that the enemy's forces confronting you\r
+are so considerable as not to allow of your taking the offensive? On the\r
+contrary, he is probably pursuing you with detachments, or at most with\r
+an army corps much weaker than the army entrusted to you. It would seem\r
+that, availing yourself of these circumstances, you might advantageously\r
+attack a weaker one and annihilate him, or at least oblige him to\r
+retreat, retaining in our hands an important part of the provinces now\r
+occupied by the enemy, and thereby averting danger from Tula and other\r
+towns in the interior. You will be responsible if the enemy is able to\r
+direct a force of any size against Petersburg to threaten this capital\r
+in which it has not been possible to retain many troops; for with the\r
+army entrusted to you, and acting with resolution and energy, you have\r
+ample means to avert this fresh calamity. Remember that you have still\r
+to answer to our offended country for the loss of Moscow. You have\r
+experienced my readiness to reward you. That readiness will not weaken\r
+in me, but I and Russia have a right to expect from you all the zeal,\r
+firmness, and success which your intellect, military talent, and the\r
+courage of the troops you command justify us in expecting.\r
+\r
+But by the time this letter, which proved that the real relation of the\r
+forces had already made itself felt in Petersburg, was dispatched,\r
+Kutuzov had found himself unable any longer to restrain the army he\r
+commanded from attacking and a battle had taken place.\r
+\r
+On the second of October a Cossack, Shapovalov, who was out scouting,\r
+killed one hare and wounded another. Following the wounded hare he made\r
+his way far into the forest and came upon the left flank of Murat's\r
+army, encamped there without any precautions. The Cossack laughingly\r
+told his comrades how he had almost fallen into the hands of the French.\r
+A cornet, hearing the story, informed his commander.\r
+\r
+The Cossack was sent for and questioned. The Cossack officers wished to\r
+take advantage of this chance to capture some horses, but one of the\r
+superior officers, who was acquainted with the higher authorities,\r
+reported the incident to a general on the staff. The state of things on\r
+the staff had of late been exceedingly strained. Ermolov had been to see\r
+Bennigsen a few days previously and had entreated him to use his\r
+influence with the commander-in-chief to induce him to take the\r
+offensive.\r
+\r
+"If I did not know you I should think you did not want what you are\r
+asking for. I need only advise anything and his Highness is sure to do\r
+the opposite," replied Bennigsen.\r
+\r
+The Cossack's report, confirmed by horse patrols who were sent out, was\r
+the final proof that events had matured. The tightly coiled spring was\r
+released, the clock began to whirr and the chimes to play. Despite all\r
+his supposed power, his intellect, his experience, and his knowledge of\r
+men, Kutuzov--having taken into consideration the Cossack's report, a\r
+note from Bennigsen who sent personal reports to the Emperor, the wishes\r
+he supposed the Emperor to hold, and the fact that all the generals\r
+expressed the same wish--could no longer check the inevitable movement,\r
+and gave the order to do what he regarded as useless and harmful--gave\r
+his approval, that is, to the accomplished fact.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+Bennigsen's note and the Cossack's information that the left flank of\r
+the French was unguarded were merely final indications that it was\r
+necessary to order an attack, and it was fixed for the fifth of October.\r
+\r
+On the morning of the fourth of October Kutuzov signed the dispositions.\r
+Toll read them to Ermolov, asking him to attend to the further\r
+arrangements.\r
+\r
+"All right--all right. I haven't time just now," replied Ermolov, and\r
+left the hut.\r
+\r
+The dispositions drawn up by Toll were very good. As in the Austerlitz\r
+dispositions, it was written--though not in German this time:\r
+\r
+"The First Column will march here and here," "the Second Column will\r
+march there and there," and so on; and on paper, all these columns\r
+arrived at their places at the appointed time and destroyed the enemy.\r
+Everything had been admirably thought out as is usual in dispositions,\r
+and as is always the case, not a single column reached its place at the\r
+appointed time.\r
+\r
+When the necessary number of copies of the dispositions had been\r
+prepared, an officer was summoned and sent to deliver them to Ermolov to\r
+deal with. A young officer of the Horse Guards, Kutuzov's orderly,\r
+pleased at the importance of the mission entrusted to him, went to\r
+Ermolov's quarters.\r
+\r
+"Gone away," said Ermolov's orderly.\r
+\r
+The officer of the Horse Guards went to a general with whom Ermolov was\r
+often to be found.\r
+\r
+"No, and the general's out too."\r
+\r
+The officer, mounting his horse, rode off to someone else.\r
+\r
+"No, he's gone out."\r
+\r
+"If only they don't make me responsible for this delay! What a nuisance\r
+it is!" thought the officer, and he rode round the whole camp. One man\r
+said he had seen Ermolov ride past with some other generals, others said\r
+he must have returned home. The officer searched till six o'clock in the\r
+evening without even stopping to eat. Ermolov was nowhere to be found\r
+and no one knew where he was. The officer snatched a little food at a\r
+comrade's, and rode again to the vanguard to find Miloradovich.\r
+Miloradovich too was away, but here he was told that he had gone to a\r
+ball at General Kikin's and that Ermolov was probably there too.\r
+\r
+"But where is it?"\r
+\r
+"Why, there, over at Echkino," said a Cossack officer, pointing to a\r
+country house in the far distance.\r
+\r
+"What, outside our line?"\r
+\r
+"They've put two regiments as outposts, and they're having such a spree\r
+there, it's awful! Two bands and three sets of singers!"\r
+\r
+The officer rode out beyond our lines to Echkino. While still at a\r
+distance he heard as he rode the merry sounds of a soldier's dance song\r
+proceeding from the house.\r
+\r
+"In the meadows... in the meadows!" he heard, accompanied by whistling\r
+and the sound of a torban, drowned every now and then by shouts. These\r
+sounds made his spirits rise, but at the same time he was afraid that he\r
+would be blamed for not having executed sooner the important order\r
+entrusted to him. It was already past eight o'clock. He dismounted and\r
+went up into the porch of a large country house which had remained\r
+intact between the Russian and French forces. In the refreshment room\r
+and the hall, footmen were bustling about with wine and viands. Groups\r
+of singers stood outside the windows. The officer was admitted and\r
+immediately saw all the chief generals of the army together, and among\r
+them Ermolov's big imposing figure. They all had their coats unbuttoned\r
+and were standing in a semicircle with flushed and animated faces,\r
+laughing loudly. In the middle of the room a short handsome general with\r
+a red face was dancing the trepak with much spirit and agility.\r
+\r
+"Ha, ha, ha! Bravo, Nicholas Ivanych! Ha, ha, ha!"\r
+\r
+The officer felt that by arriving with important orders at such a moment\r
+he was doubly to blame, and he would have preferred to wait; but one of\r
+the generals espied him and, hearing what he had come about, informed\r
+Ermolov.\r
+\r
+Ermolov came forward with a frown on his face and, hearing what the\r
+officer had to say, took the papers from him without a word.\r
+\r
+"You think he went off just by chance?" said a comrade, who was on the\r
+staff that evening, to the officer of the Horse Guards, referring to\r
+Ermolov. "It was a trick. It was done on purpose to get Konovnitsyn into\r
+trouble. You'll see what a mess there'll be tomorrow."\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+Next day the decrepit Kutuzov, having given orders to be called early,\r
+said his prayers, dressed, and, with an unpleasant consciousness of\r
+having to direct a battle he did not approve of, got into his caleche\r
+and drove from Letashovka (a village three and a half miles from\r
+Tarutino) to the place where the attacking columns were to meet. He sat\r
+in the caleche, dozing and waking up by turns, and listening for any\r
+sound of firing on the right as an indication that the action had begun.\r
+But all was still quiet. A damp dull autumn morning was just dawning. On\r
+approaching Tarutino Kutuzov noticed cavalrymen leading their horses to\r
+water across the road along which he was driving. Kutuzov looked at them\r
+searchingly, stopped his carriage, and inquired what regiment they\r
+belonged to. They belonged to a column that should have been far in\r
+front and in ambush long before then. "It may be a mistake," thought the\r
+old commander-in-chief. But a little further on he saw infantry\r
+regiments with their arms piled and the soldiers, only partly dressed,\r
+eating their rye porridge and carrying fuel. He sent for an officer. The\r
+officer reported that no order to advance had been received.\r
+\r
+"How! Not rec..." Kutuzov began, but checked himself immediately and\r
+sent for a senior officer. Getting out of his caleche, he waited with\r
+drooping head and breathing heavily, pacing silently up and down. When\r
+Eykhen, the officer of the general staff whom he had summoned, appeared,\r
+Kutuzov went purple in the face, not because that officer was to blame\r
+for the mistake, but because he was an object of sufficient importance\r
+for him to vent his wrath on. Trembling and panting the old man fell\r
+into that state of fury in which he sometimes used to roll on the\r
+ground, and he fell upon Eykhen, threatening him with his hands,\r
+shouting and loading him with gross abuse. Another man, Captain Brozin,\r
+who happened to turn up and who was not at all to blame, suffered the\r
+same fate.\r
+\r
+"What sort of another blackguard are you? I'll have you shot!\r
+Scoundrels!" yelled Kutuzov in a hoarse voice, waving his arms and\r
+reeling.\r
+\r
+He was suffering physically. He, the commander-in-chief, a Serene\r
+Highness who everybody said possessed powers such as no man had ever had\r
+in Russia, to be placed in this position--made the laughingstock of the\r
+whole army! "I needn't have been in such a hurry to pray about today, or\r
+have kept awake thinking everything over all night," thought he to\r
+himself. "When I was a chit of an officer no one would have dared to\r
+mock me so... and now!" He was in a state of physical suffering as if\r
+from corporal punishment, and could not avoid expressing it by cries of\r
+anger and distress. But his strength soon began to fail him, and looking\r
+about him, conscious of having said much that was amiss, he again got\r
+into his caleche and drove back in silence.\r
+\r
+His wrath, once expended, did not return, and blinking feebly he\r
+listened to excuses and self-justifications (Ermolov did not come to see\r
+him till the next day) and to the insistence of Bennigsen, Konovnitsyn,\r
+and Toll that the movement that had miscarried should be executed next\r
+day. And once more Kutuzov had to consent.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+Next day the troops assembled in their appointed places in the evening\r
+and advanced during the night. It was an autumn night with dark purple\r
+clouds, but no rain. The ground was damp but not muddy, and the troops\r
+advanced noiselessly, only occasionally a jingling of the artillery\r
+could be faintly heard. The men were forbidden to talk out loud, to\r
+smoke their pipes, or to strike a light, and they tried to prevent their\r
+horses neighing. The secrecy of the undertaking heightened its charm and\r
+they marched gaily. Some columns, supposing they had reached their\r
+destination, halted, piled arms, and settled down on the cold ground,\r
+but the majority marched all night and arrived at places where they\r
+evidently should not have been.\r
+\r
+Only Count Orlov-Denisov with his Cossacks (the least important\r
+detachment of all) got to his appointed place at the right time. This\r
+detachment halted at the outskirts of a forest, on the path leading from\r
+the village of Stromilova to Dmitrovsk.\r
+\r
+Toward dawn, Count Orlov-Denisov, who had dozed off, was awakened by a\r
+deserter from the French army being brought to him. This was a Polish\r
+sergeant of Poniatowski's corps, who explained in Polish that he had\r
+come over because he had been slighted in the service: that he ought\r
+long ago to have been made an officer, that he was braver than any of\r
+them, and so he had left them and wished to pay them out. He said that\r
+Murat was spending the night less than a mile from where they were, and\r
+that if they would let him have a convoy of a hundred men he would\r
+capture him alive. Count Orlov-Denisov consulted his fellow officers.\r
+\r
+The offer was too tempting to be refused. Everyone volunteered to go and\r
+everybody advised making the attempt. After much disputing and arguing,\r
+Major-General Grekov with two Cossack regiments decided to go with the\r
+Polish sergeant.\r
+\r
+"Now, remember," said Count Orlov-Denisov to the sergeant at parting,\r
+"if you have been lying I'll have you hanged like a dog; but if it's\r
+true you shall have a hundred gold pieces!"\r
+\r
+Without replying, the sergeant, with a resolute air, mounted and rode\r
+away with Grekov whose men had quickly assembled. They disappeared into\r
+the forest, and Count Orlov-Denisov, having seen Grekov off, returned,\r
+shivering from the freshness of the early dawn and excited by what he\r
+had undertaken on his own responsibility, and began looking at the enemy\r
+camp, now just visible in the deceptive light of dawn and the dying\r
+campfires. Our columns ought to have begun to appear on an open\r
+declivity to his right. He looked in that direction, but though the\r
+columns would have been visible quite far off, they were not to be seen.\r
+It seemed to the count that things were beginning to stir in the French\r
+camp, and his keen-sighted adjutant confirmed this.\r
+\r
+"Oh, it is really too late," said Count Orlov, looking at the camp.\r
+\r
+As often happens when someone we have trusted is no longer before our\r
+eyes, it suddenly seemed quite clear and obvious to him that the\r
+sergeant was an impostor, that he had lied, and that the whole Russian\r
+attack would be ruined by the absence of those two regiments, which he\r
+would lead away heaven only knew where. How could one capture a\r
+commander-in-chief from among such a mass of troops!\r
+\r
+"I am sure that rascal was lying," said the count.\r
+\r
+"They can still be called back," said one of his suite, who like Count\r
+Orlov felt distrustful of the adventure when he looked at the enemy's\r
+camp.\r
+\r
+"Eh? Really... what do you think? Should we let them go on or not?"\r
+\r
+"Will you have them fetched back?"\r
+\r
+"Fetch them back, fetch them back!" said Count Orlov with sudden\r
+determination, looking at his watch. "It will be too late. It is quite\r
+light."\r
+\r
+And the adjutant galloped through the forest after Grekov. When Grekov\r
+returned, Count Orlov-Denisov, excited both by the abandoned attempt and\r
+by vainly awaiting the infantry columns that still did not appear, as\r
+well as by the proximity of the enemy, resolved to advance. All his men\r
+felt the same excitement.\r
+\r
+"Mount!" he commanded in a whisper. The men took their places and\r
+crossed themselves.... "Forward, with God's aid!"\r
+\r
+"Hurrah-ah-ah!" reverberated in the forest, and the Cossack companies,\r
+trailing their lances and advancing one after another as if poured out\r
+of a sack, dashed gaily across the brook toward the camp.\r
+\r
+One desperate, frightened yell from the first French soldier who saw the\r
+Cossacks, and all who were in the camp, undressed and only just waking\r
+up, ran off in all directions, abandoning cannons, muskets, and horses.\r
+\r
+Had the Cossacks pursued the French, without heeding what was behind and\r
+around them, they would have captured Murat and everything there. That\r
+was what the officers desired. But it was impossible to make the\r
+Cossacks budge when once they had got booty and prisoners. None of them\r
+listened to orders. Fifteen hundred prisoners and thirty-eight guns were\r
+taken on the spot, besides standards and (what seemed most important to\r
+the Cossacks) horses, saddles, horsecloths, and the like. All this had\r
+to be dealt with, the prisoners and guns secured, the booty divided--not\r
+without some shouting and even a little fighting among themselves--and\r
+it was on this that the Cossacks all busied themselves.\r
+\r
+The French, not being farther pursued, began to recover themselves: they\r
+formed into detachments and began firing. Orlov-Denisov, still waiting\r
+for the other columns to arrive, advanced no further.\r
+\r
+Meantime, according to the dispositions which said that "the First\r
+Column will march" and so on, the infantry of the belated columns,\r
+commanded by Bennigsen and directed by Toll, had started in due order\r
+and, as always happens, had got somewhere, but not to their appointed\r
+places. As always happens the men, starting cheerfully, began to halt;\r
+murmurs were heard, there was a sense of confusion, and finally a\r
+backward movement. Adjutants and generals galloped about, shouted, grew\r
+angry, quarreled, said they had come quite wrong and were late, gave\r
+vent to a little abuse, and at last gave it all up and went forward,\r
+simply to get somewhere. "We shall get somewhere or other!" And they did\r
+indeed get somewhere, though not to their right places; a few eventually\r
+even got to their right place, but too late to be of any use and only in\r
+time to be fired at. Toll, who in this battle played the part of\r
+Weyrother at Austerlitz, galloped assiduously from place to place,\r
+finding everything upside down everywhere. Thus he stumbled on Bagovut's\r
+corps in a wood when it was already broad daylight, though the corps\r
+should long before have joined Orlov-Denisov. Excited and vexed by the\r
+failure and supposing that someone must be responsible for it, Toll\r
+galloped up to the commander of the corps and began upbraiding him\r
+severely, saying that he ought to be shot. General Bagovut, a fighting\r
+old soldier of placid temperament, being also upset by all the delay,\r
+confusion, and cross-purposes, fell into a rage to everybody's surprise\r
+and quite contrary to his usual character and said disagreeable things\r
+to Toll.\r
+\r
+"I prefer not to take lessons from anyone, but I can die with my men as\r
+well as anybody," he said, and advanced with a single division.\r
+\r
+Coming out onto a field under the enemy's fire, this brave general went\r
+straight ahead, leading his men under fire, without considering in his\r
+agitation whether going into action now, with a single division, would\r
+be of any use or no. Danger, cannon balls, and bullets were just what he\r
+needed in his angry mood. One of the first bullets killed him, and other\r
+bullets killed many of his men. And his division remained under fire for\r
+some time quite uselessly.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+Meanwhile another column was to have attacked the French from the front,\r
+but Kutuzov accompanied that column. He well knew that nothing but\r
+confusion would come of this battle undertaken against his will, and as\r
+far as was in his power held the troops back. He did not advance.\r
+\r
+He rode silently on his small gray horse, indolently answering\r
+suggestions that they should attack.\r
+\r
+"The word attack is always on your tongue, but you don't see that we are\r
+unable to execute complicated maneuvers," said he to Miloradovich who\r
+asked permission to advance.\r
+\r
+"We couldn't take Murat prisoner this morning or get to the place in\r
+time, and nothing can be done now!" he replied to someone else.\r
+\r
+When Kutuzov was informed that at the French rear--where according to\r
+the reports of the Cossacks there had previously been nobody--there were\r
+now two battalions of Poles, he gave a sidelong glance at Ermolov who\r
+was behind him and to whom he had not spoken since the previous day.\r
+\r
+"You see! They are asking to attack and making plans of all kinds, but\r
+as soon as one gets to business nothing is ready, and the enemy,\r
+forewarned, takes measures accordingly."\r
+\r
+Ermolov screwed up his eyes and smiled faintly on hearing these words.\r
+He understood that for him the storm had blown over, and that Kutuzov\r
+would content himself with that hint.\r
+\r
+"He's having a little fun at my expense," said Ermolov softly, nudging\r
+with his knee Raevski who was at his side.\r
+\r
+Soon after this, Ermolov moved up to Kutuzov and respectfully remarked:\r
+\r
+"It is not too late yet, your Highness--the enemy has not gone away--if\r
+you were to order an attack! If not, the Guards will not so much as see\r
+a little smoke."\r
+\r
+Kutuzov did not reply, but when they reported to him that Murat's troops\r
+were in retreat he ordered an advance, though at every hundred paces he\r
+halted for three quarters of an hour.\r
+\r
+The whole battle consisted in what Orlov-Denisov's Cossacks had done:\r
+the rest of the army merely lost some hundreds of men uselessly.\r
+\r
+In consequence of this battle Kutuzov received a diamond decoration, and\r
+Bennigsen some diamonds and a hundred thousand rubles, others also\r
+received pleasant recognitions corresponding to their various grades,\r
+and following the battle fresh changes were made in the staff.\r
+\r
+"That's how everything is done with us, all topsy-turvy!" said the\r
+Russian officers and generals after the Tarutino battle, letting it be\r
+understood that some fool there is doing things all wrong but that we\r
+ourselves should not have done so, just as people speak today. But\r
+people who talk like that either do not know what they are talking about\r
+or deliberately deceive themselves. No battle--Tarutino, Borodino, or\r
+Austerlitz--takes place as those who planned it anticipated. That is an\r
+essential condition.\r
+\r
+A countless number of free forces (for nowhere is man freer than during\r
+a battle, where it is a question of life and death) influence the course\r
+taken by the fight, and that course never can be known in advance and\r
+never coincides with the direction of any one force.\r
+\r
+If many simultaneously and variously directed forces act on a given\r
+body, the direction of its motion cannot coincide with any one of those\r
+forces, but will always be a mean--what in mechanics is represented by\r
+the diagonal of a parallelogram of forces.\r
+\r
+If in the descriptions given by historians, especially French ones, we\r
+find their wars and battles carried out in accordance with previously\r
+formed plans, the only conclusion to be drawn is that those descriptions\r
+are false.\r
+\r
+The battle of Tarutino obviously did not attain the aim Toll had in\r
+view--to lead the troops into action in the order prescribed by the\r
+dispositions; nor that which Count Orlov-Denisov may have had in view--\r
+to take Murat prisoner; nor the result of immediately destroying the\r
+whole corps, which Bennigsen and others may have had in view; nor the\r
+aim of the officer who wished to go into action to distinguish himself;\r
+nor that of the Cossack who wanted more booty than he got, and so on.\r
+But if the aim of the battle was what actually resulted and what all the\r
+Russians of that day desired--to drive the French out of Russia and\r
+destroy their army--it is quite clear that the battle of Tarutino, just\r
+because of its incongruities, was exactly what was wanted at that stage\r
+of the campaign. It would be difficult and even impossible to imagine\r
+any result more opportune than the actual outcome of this battle. With a\r
+minimum of effort and insignificant losses, despite the greatest\r
+confusion, the most important results of the whole campaign were\r
+attained: the transition from retreat to advance, an exposure of the\r
+weakness of the French, and the administration of that shock which\r
+Napoleon's army had only awaited to begin its flight.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+Napoleon enters Moscow after the brilliant victory de la Moskowa; there\r
+can be no doubt about the victory for the battlefield remains in the\r
+hands of the French. The Russians retreat and abandon their ancient\r
+capital. Moscow, abounding in provisions, arms, munitions, and\r
+incalculable wealth, is in Napoleon's hands. The Russian army, only half\r
+the strength of the French, does not make a single attempt to attack for\r
+a whole month. Napoleon's position is most brilliant. He can either fall\r
+on the Russian army with double its strength and destroy it; negotiate\r
+an advantageous peace, or in case of a refusal make a menacing move on\r
+Petersburg, or even, in the case of a reverse, return to Smolensk or\r
+Vilna; or remain in Moscow; in short, no special genius would seem to be\r
+required to retain the brilliant position the French held at that time.\r
+For that, only very simple and easy steps were necessary: not to allow\r
+the troops to loot, to prepare winter clothing--of which there was\r
+sufficient in Moscow for the whole army--and methodically to collect the\r
+provisions, of which (according to the French historians) there were\r
+enough in Moscow to supply the whole army for six months. Yet Napoleon,\r
+that greatest of all geniuses, who the historians declare had control of\r
+the army, took none of these steps.\r
+\r
+He not merely did nothing of the kind, but on the contrary he used his\r
+power to select the most foolish and ruinous of all the courses open to\r
+him. Of all that Napoleon might have done: wintering in Moscow,\r
+advancing on Petersburg or on Nizhni-Novgorod, or retiring by a more\r
+northerly or more southerly route (say by the road Kutuzov afterwards\r
+took), nothing more stupid or disastrous can be imagined than what he\r
+actually did. He remained in Moscow till October, letting the troops\r
+plunder the city; then, hesitating whether to leave a garrison behind\r
+him, he quitted Moscow, approached Kutuzov without joining battle,\r
+turned to the right and reached Malo-Yaroslavets, again without\r
+attempting to break through and take the road Kutuzov took, but retiring\r
+instead to Mozhaysk along the devastated Smolensk road. Nothing more\r
+stupid than that could have been devised, or more disastrous for the\r
+army, as the sequel showed. Had Napoleon's aim been to destroy his army,\r
+the most skillful strategist could hardly have devised any series of\r
+actions that would so completely have accomplished that purpose,\r
+independently of anything the Russian army might do.\r
+\r
+Napoleon, the man of genius, did this! But to say that he destroyed his\r
+army because he wished to, or because he was very stupid, would be as\r
+unjust as to say that he had brought his troops to Moscow because he\r
+wished to and because he was very clever and a genius.\r
+\r
+In both cases his personal activity, having no more force than the\r
+personal activity of any soldier, merely coincided with the laws that\r
+guided the event.\r
+\r
+The historians quite falsely represent Napoleon's faculties as having\r
+weakened in Moscow, and do so only because the results did not justify\r
+his actions. He employed all his ability and strength to do the best he\r
+could for himself and his army, as he had done previously and as he did\r
+subsequently in 1813. His activity at that time was no less astounding\r
+than it was in Egypt, in Italy, in Austria, and in Prussia. We do not\r
+know for certain in how far his genius was genuine in Egypt--where forty\r
+centuries looked down upon his grandeur--for his great exploits there\r
+are all told us by Frenchmen. We cannot accurately estimate his genius\r
+in Austria or Prussia, for we have to draw our information from French\r
+or German sources, and the incomprehensible surrender of whole corps\r
+without fighting and of fortresses without a siege must incline Germans\r
+to recognize his genius as the only explanation of the war carried on in\r
+Germany. But we, thank God, have no need to recognize his genius in\r
+order to hide our shame. We have paid for the right to look at the\r
+matter plainly and simply, and we will not abandon that right.\r
+\r
+His activity in Moscow was as amazing and as full of genius as\r
+elsewhere. Order after order and plan after plan were issued by him from\r
+the time he entered Moscow till the time he left it. The absence of\r
+citizens and of a deputation, and even the burning of Moscow, did not\r
+disconcert him. He did not lose sight either of the welfare of his army\r
+or of the doings of the enemy, or of the welfare of the people of\r
+Russia, or of the direction of affairs in Paris, or of diplomatic\r
+considerations concerning the terms of the anticipated peace.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+With regard to military matters, Napoleon immediately on his entry into\r
+Moscow gave General Sabastiani strict orders to observe the movements of\r
+the Russian army, sent army corps out along the different roads, and\r
+charged Murat to find Kutuzov. Then he gave careful directions about the\r
+fortification of the Kremlin, and drew up a brilliant plan for a future\r
+campaign over the whole map of Russia.\r
+\r
+With regard to diplomatic questions, Napoleon summoned Captain Yakovlev,\r
+who had been robbed and was in rags and did not know how to get out of\r
+Moscow, minutely explained to him his whole policy and his magnanimity,\r
+and having written a letter to the Emperor Alexander in which he\r
+considered it his duty to inform his Friend and Brother that Rostopchin\r
+had managed affairs badly in Moscow, he dispatched Yakovlev to\r
+Petersburg.\r
+\r
+Having similarly explained his views and his magnanimity to Tutolmin, he\r
+dispatched that old man also to Petersburg to negotiate.\r
+\r
+With regard to legal matters, immediately after the fires he gave orders\r
+to find and execute the incendiaries. And the scoundrel Rostopchin was\r
+punished by an order to burn down his houses.\r
+\r
+With regard to administrative matters, Moscow was granted a\r
+constitution. A municipality was established and the following\r
+announcement issued:\r
+\r
+INHABITANTS OF MOSCOW!\r
+\r
+Your misfortunes are cruel, but His Majesty the Emperor and King desires\r
+to arrest their course. Terrible examples have taught you how he\r
+punishes disobedience and crime. Strict measures have been taken to put\r
+an end to disorder and to re-establish public security. A paternal\r
+administration, chosen from among yourselves, will form your\r
+municipality or city government. It will take care of you, of your\r
+needs, and of your welfare. Its members will be distinguished by a red\r
+ribbon worn across the shoulder, and the mayor of the city will wear a\r
+white belt as well. But when not on duty they will only wear a red\r
+ribbon round the left arm.\r
+\r
+The city police is established on its former footing, and better order\r
+already prevails in consequence of its activity. The government has\r
+appointed two commissaries general, or chiefs of police, and twenty\r
+commissaries or captains of wards have been appointed to the different\r
+wards of the city. You will recognize them by the white ribbon they will\r
+wear on the left arm. Several churches of different denominations are\r
+open, and divine service is performed in them unhindered. Your fellow\r
+citizens are returning every day to their homes and orders have been\r
+given that they should find in them the help and protection due to their\r
+misfortunes. These are the measures the government has adopted to re-\r
+establish order and relieve your condition. But to achieve this aim it\r
+is necessary that you should add your efforts and should, if possible,\r
+forget the misfortunes you have suffered, should entertain the hope of a\r
+less cruel fate, should be certain that inevitable and ignominious death\r
+awaits those who make any attempt on your persons or on what remains of\r
+your property, and finally that you should not doubt that these will be\r
+safeguarded, since such is the will of the greatest and most just of\r
+monarchs. Soldiers and citizens, of whatever nation you may be, re-\r
+establish public confidence, the source of the welfare of a state, live\r
+like brothers, render mutual aid and protection one to another, unite to\r
+defeat the intentions of the evil-minded, obey the military and civil\r
+authorities, and your tears will soon cease to flow!\r
+\r
+With regard to supplies for the army, Napoleon decreed that all the\r
+troops in turn should enter Moscow a la maraude * to obtain provisions\r
+for themselves, so that the army might have its future provided for.\r
+\r
+\r
+* As looters.\r
+\r
+With regard to religion, Napoleon ordered the priests to be brought back\r
+and services to be again performed in the churches.\r
+\r
+With regard to commerce and to provisioning the army, the following was\r
+placarded everywhere:\r
+\r
+PROCLAMATION!\r
+\r
+You, peaceful inhabitants of Moscow, artisans and workmen whom\r
+misfortune has driven from the city, and you scattered tillers of the\r
+soil, still kept out in the fields by groundless fear, listen!\r
+Tranquillity is returning to this capital and order is being restored in\r
+it. Your fellow countrymen are emerging boldly from their hiding places\r
+on finding that they are respected. Any violence to them or to their\r
+property is promptly punished. His Majesty the Emperor and King protects\r
+them, and considers no one among you his enemy except those who disobey\r
+his orders. He desires to end your misfortunes and restore you to your\r
+homes and families. Respond, therefore, to his benevolent intentions and\r
+come to us without fear. Inhabitants, return with confidence to your\r
+abodes! You will soon find means of satisfying your needs. Craftsmen and\r
+industrious artisans, return to your work, your houses, your shops,\r
+where the protection of guards awaits you! You shall receive proper pay\r
+for your work. And lastly you too, peasants, come from the forests where\r
+you are hiding in terror, return to your huts without fear, in full\r
+assurance that you will find protection! Markets are established in the\r
+city where peasants can bring their surplus supplies and the products of\r
+the soil. The government has taken the following steps to ensure freedom\r
+of sale for them: (1) From today, peasants, husbandmen, and those living\r
+in the neighborhood of Moscow may without any danger bring their\r
+supplies of all kinds to two appointed markets, of which one is on the\r
+Mokhovaya Street and the other at the Provision Market. (2) Such\r
+supplies will be bought from them at such prices as seller and buyer may\r
+agree on, and if a seller is unable to obtain a fair price he will be\r
+free to take his goods back to his village and no one may hinder him\r
+under any pretense. (3) Sunday and Wednesday of each week are appointed\r
+as the chief market days and to that end a sufficient number of troops\r
+will be stationed along the highroads on Tuesdays and Saturdays at such\r
+distances from the town as to protect the carts. (4) Similar measures\r
+will be taken that peasants with their carts and horses may meet with no\r
+hindrance on their return journey. (5) Steps will immediately be taken\r
+to re-establish ordinary trading.\r
+\r
+Inhabitants of the city and villages, and you, workingmen and artisans,\r
+to whatever nation you belong, you are called on to carry out the\r
+paternal intentions of His Majesty the Emperor and King and to co-\r
+operate with him for the public welfare! Lay your respect and confidence\r
+at his feet and do not delay to unite with us!\r
+\r
+With the object of raising the spirits of the troops and of the people,\r
+reviews were constantly held and rewards distributed. The Emperor rode\r
+through the streets to comfort the inhabitants, and, despite his\r
+preoccupation with state affairs, himself visited the theaters that were\r
+established by his order.\r
+\r
+In regard to philanthropy, the greatest virtue of crowned heads,\r
+Napoleon also did all in his power. He caused the words Maison de ma\r
+Mere to be inscribed on the charitable institutions, thereby combining\r
+tender filial affection with the majestic benevolence of a monarch. He\r
+visited the Foundling Hospital and, allowing the orphans saved by him to\r
+kiss his white hands, graciously conversed with Tutolmin. Then, as\r
+Thiers eloquently recounts, he ordered his soldiers to be paid in forged\r
+Russian money which he had prepared: "Raising the use of these means by\r
+an act worthy of himself and of the French army, he let relief be\r
+distributed to those who had been burned out. But as food was too\r
+precious to be given to foreigners, who were for the most part enemies,\r
+Napoleon preferred to supply them with money with which to purchase food\r
+from outside, and had paper rubles distributed to them."\r
+\r
+With reference to army discipline, orders were continually being issued\r
+to inflict severe punishment for the nonperformance of military duties\r
+and to suppress robbery.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+But strange to say, all these measures, efforts, and plans--which were\r
+not at all worse than others issued in similar circumstances--did not\r
+affect the essence of the matter but, like the hands of a clock detached\r
+from the mechanism, swung about in an arbitrary and aimless way without\r
+engaging the cogwheels.\r
+\r
+With reference to the military side--the plan of campaign--that work of\r
+genius of which Thiers remarks that, "His genius never devised anything\r
+more profound, more skillful, or more admirable," and enters into a\r
+polemic with M. Fain to prove that this work of genius must be referred\r
+not to the fourth but to the fifteenth of October--that plan never was\r
+or could be executed, for it was quite out of touch with the facts of\r
+the case. The fortifying of the Kremlin, for which la Mosquee (as\r
+Napoleon termed the church of Basil the Beatified) was to have been\r
+razed to the ground, proved quite useless. The mining of the Kremlin\r
+only helped toward fulfilling Napoleon's wish that it should be blown up\r
+when he left Moscow--as a child wants the floor on which he has hurt\r
+himself to be beaten. The pursuit of the Russian army, about which\r
+Napoleon was so concerned, produced an unheard-of result. The French\r
+generals lost touch with the Russian army of sixty thousand men, and\r
+according to Thiers it was only eventually found, like a lost pin, by\r
+the skill--and apparently the genius--of Murat.\r
+\r
+With reference to diplomacy, all Napoleon's arguments as to his\r
+magnanimity and justice, both to Tutolmin and to Yakovlev (whose chief\r
+concern was to obtain a greatcoat and a conveyance), proved useless;\r
+Alexander did not receive these envoys and did not reply to their\r
+embassage.\r
+\r
+With regard to legal matters, after the execution of the supposed\r
+incendiaries the rest of Moscow burned down.\r
+\r
+With regard to administrative matters, the establishment of a\r
+municipality did not stop the robberies and was only of use to certain\r
+people who formed part of that municipality and under pretext of\r
+preserving order looted Moscow or saved their own property from being\r
+looted.\r
+\r
+With regard to religion, as to which in Egypt matters had so easily been\r
+settled by Napoleon's visit to a mosque, no results were achieved. Two\r
+or three priests who were found in Moscow did try to carry out\r
+Napoleon's wish, but one of them was slapped in the face by a French\r
+soldier while conducting service, and a French official reported of\r
+another that: "The priest whom I found and invited to say Mass cleaned\r
+and locked up the church. That night the doors were again broken open,\r
+the padlocks smashed, the books mutilated, and other disorders\r
+perpetrated."\r
+\r
+With reference to commerce, the proclamation to industrious workmen and\r
+to peasants evoked no response. There were no industrious workmen, and\r
+the peasants caught the commissaries who ventured too far out of town\r
+with the proclamation and killed them.\r
+\r
+As to the theaters for the entertainment of the people and the troops,\r
+these did not meet with success either. The theaters set up in the\r
+Kremlin and in Posnyakov's house were closed again at once because the\r
+actors and actresses were robbed.\r
+\r
+Even philanthropy did not have the desired effect. The genuine as well\r
+as the false paper money which flooded Moscow lost its value. The\r
+French, collecting booty, cared only for gold. Not only was the paper\r
+money valueless which Napoleon so graciously distributed to the\r
+unfortunate, but even silver lost its value in relation to gold.\r
+\r
+But the most amazing example of the ineffectiveness of the orders given\r
+by the authorities at that time was Napoleon's attempt to stop the\r
+looting and re-establish discipline.\r
+\r
+This is what the army authorities were reporting:\r
+\r
+"Looting continues in the city despite the decrees against it. Order is\r
+not yet restored and not a single merchant is carrying on trade in a\r
+lawful manner. The sutlers alone venture to trade, and they sell stolen\r
+goods."\r
+\r
+"The neighborhood of my ward continues to be pillaged by soldiers of the\r
+3rd Corps who, not satisfied with taking from the unfortunate\r
+inhabitants hiding in the cellars the little they have left, even have\r
+the ferocity to wound them with their sabers, as I have repeatedly\r
+witnessed."\r
+\r
+"Nothing new, except that the soldiers are robbing and pillaging--\r
+October 9."\r
+\r
+"Robbery and pillaging continue. There is a band of thieves in our\r
+district who ought to be arrested by a strong force--October 11."\r
+\r
+"The Emperor is extremely displeased that despite the strict orders to\r
+stop pillage, parties of marauding Guards are continually seen returning\r
+to the Kremlin. Among the Old Guard disorder and pillage were renewed\r
+more violently than ever yesterday evening, last night, and today. The\r
+Emperor sees with regret that the picked soldiers appointed to guard his\r
+person, who should set an example of discipline, carry disobedience to\r
+such a point that they break into the cellars and stores containing army\r
+supplies. Others have disgraced themselves to the extent of disobeying\r
+sentinels and officers, and have abused and beaten them."\r
+\r
+"The Grand Marshal of the palace," wrote the governor, "complains\r
+bitterly that in spite of repeated orders, the soldiers continue to\r
+commit nuisances in all the courtyards and even under the very windows\r
+of the Emperor."\r
+\r
+That army, like a herd of cattle run wild and trampling underfoot the\r
+provender which might have saved it from starvation, disintegrated and\r
+perished with each additional day it remained in Moscow. But it did not\r
+go away.\r
+\r
+It began to run away only when suddenly seized by a panic caused by the\r
+capture of transport trains on the Smolensk road, and by the battle of\r
+Tarutino. The news of that battle of Tarutino, unexpectedly received by\r
+Napoleon at a review, evoked in him a desire to punish the Russians\r
+(Thiers says), and he issued the order for departure which the whole\r
+army was demanding.\r
+\r
+Fleeing from Moscow the soldiers took with them everything they had\r
+stolen. Napoleon, too, carried away his own personal tresor, but on\r
+seeing the baggage trains that impeded the army, he was (Thiers says)\r
+horror-struck. And yet with his experience of war he did not order all\r
+the superfluous vehicles to be burned, as he had done with those of a\r
+certain marshal when approaching Moscow. He gazed at the caleches and\r
+carriages in which soldiers were riding and remarked that it was a very\r
+good thing, as those vehicles could be used to carry provisions, the\r
+sick, and the wounded.\r
+\r
+The plight of the whole army resembled that of a wounded animal which\r
+feels it is perishing and does not know what it is doing. To study the\r
+skillful tactics and aims of Napoleon and his army from the time it\r
+entered Moscow till it was destroyed is like studying the dying leaps\r
+and shudders of a mortally wounded animal. Very often a wounded animal,\r
+hearing a rustle, rushes straight at the hunter's gun, runs forward and\r
+back again, and hastens its own end. Napoleon, under pressure from his\r
+whole army, did the same thing. The rustle of the battle of Tarutino\r
+frightened the beast, and it rushed forward onto the hunter's gun,\r
+reached him, turned back, and finally--like any wild beast--ran back\r
+along the most disadvantageous and dangerous path, where the old scent\r
+was familiar.\r
+\r
+During the whole of that period Napoleon, who seems to us to have been\r
+the leader of all these movements--as the figurehead of a ship may seem\r
+to a savage to guide the vessel--acted like a child who, holding a\r
+couple of strings inside a carriage, thinks he is driving it.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+Early in the morning of the sixth of October Pierre went out of the\r
+shed, and on returning stopped by the door to play with a little blue-\r
+gray dog, with a long body and short bandy legs, that jumped about him.\r
+This little dog lived in their shed, sleeping beside Karataev at night;\r
+it sometimes made excursions into the town but always returned again.\r
+Probably it had never had an owner, and it still belonged to nobody and\r
+had no name. The French called it Azor; the soldier who told stories\r
+called it Femgalka; Karataev and others called it Gray, or sometimes\r
+Flabby. Its lack of a master, a name, or even of a breed or any definite\r
+color did not seem to trouble the blue-gray dog in the least. Its furry\r
+tail stood up firm and round as a plume, its bandy legs served it so\r
+well that it would often gracefully lift a hind leg and run very easily\r
+and quickly on three legs, as if disdaining to use all four. Everything\r
+pleased it. Now it would roll on its back, yelping with delight, now\r
+bask in the sun with a thoughtful air of importance, and now frolic\r
+about playing with a chip of wood or a straw.\r
+\r
+Pierre's attire by now consisted of a dirty torn shirt (the only remnant\r
+of his former clothing), a pair of soldier's trousers which by\r
+Karataev's advice he tied with string round the ankles for warmth, and a\r
+peasant coat and cap. Physically he had changed much during this time.\r
+He no longer seemed stout, though he still had the appearance of\r
+solidity and strength hereditary in his family. A beard and mustache\r
+covered the lower part of his face, and a tangle of hair, infested with\r
+lice, curled round his head like a cap. The look of his eyes was\r
+resolute, calm, and animatedly alert, as never before. The former\r
+slackness which had shown itself even in his eyes was now replaced by an\r
+energetic readiness for action and resistance. His feet were bare.\r
+\r
+Pierre first looked down the field across which vehicles and horsemen\r
+were passing that morning, then into the distance across the river, then\r
+at the dog who was pretending to be in earnest about biting him, and\r
+then at his bare feet which he placed with pleasure in various\r
+positions, moving his dirty thick big toes. Every time he looked at his\r
+bare feet a smile of animated self-satisfaction flitted across his face.\r
+The sight of them reminded him of all he had experienced and learned\r
+during these weeks and this recollection was pleasant to him.\r
+\r
+For some days the weather had been calm and clear with slight frosts in\r
+the mornings--what is called an "old wives' summer."\r
+\r
+In the sunshine the air was warm, and that warmth was particularly\r
+pleasant with the invigorating freshness of the morning frost still in\r
+the air.\r
+\r
+On everything--far and near--lay the magic crystal glitter seen only at\r
+that time of autumn. The Sparrow Hills were visible in the distance,\r
+with the village, the church, and the large white house. The bare trees,\r
+the sand, the bricks and roofs of the houses, the green church spire,\r
+and the corners of the white house in the distance, all stood out in the\r
+transparent air in most delicate outline and with unnatural clearness.\r
+Near by could be seen the familiar ruins of a half-burned mansion\r
+occupied by the French, with lilac bushes still showing dark green\r
+beside the fence. And even that ruined and befouled house--which in dull\r
+weather was repulsively ugly--seemed quietly beautiful now, in the\r
+clear, motionless brilliance.\r
+\r
+A French corporal, with coat unbuttoned in a homely way, a skullcap on\r
+his head, and a short pipe in his mouth, came from behind a corner of\r
+the shed and approached Pierre with a friendly wink.\r
+\r
+"What sunshine, Monsieur Kiril!" (Their name for Pierre.) "Eh? Just like\r
+spring!"\r
+\r
+And the corporal leaned against the door and offered Pierre his pipe,\r
+though whenever he offered it Pierre always declined it.\r
+\r
+"To be on the march in such weather..." he began.\r
+\r
+Pierre inquired what was being said about leaving, and the corporal told\r
+him that nearly all the troops were starting and there ought to be an\r
+order about the prisoners that day. Sokolov, one of the soldiers in the\r
+shed with Pierre, was dying, and Pierre told the corporal that something\r
+should be done about him. The corporal replied that Pierre need not\r
+worry about that as they had an ambulance and a permanent hospital and\r
+arrangements would be made for the sick, and that in general everything\r
+that could happen had been foreseen by the authorities.\r
+\r
+"Besides, Monsieur Kiril, you have only to say a word to the captain,\r
+you know. He is a man who never forgets anything. Speak to the captain\r
+when he makes his round, he will do anything for you."\r
+\r
+(The captain of whom the corporal spoke often had long chats with Pierre\r
+and showed him all sorts of favors.)\r
+\r
+"'You see, St. Thomas,' he said to me the other day. 'Monsieur Kiril is\r
+a man of education, who speaks French. He is a Russian seigneur who has\r
+had misfortunes, but he is a man. He knows what's what.... If he wants\r
+anything and asks me, he won't get a refusal. When one has studied, you\r
+see, one likes education and well-bred people.' It is for your sake I\r
+mention it, Monsieur Kiril. The other day if it had not been for you\r
+that affair would have ended ill."\r
+\r
+And after chatting a while longer, the corporal went away. (The affair\r
+he had alluded to had happened a few days before--a fight between the\r
+prisoners and the French soldiers, in which Pierre had succeeded in\r
+pacifying his comrades.) Some of the prisoners who had heard Pierre\r
+talking to the corporal immediately asked what the Frenchman had said.\r
+While Pierre was repeating what he had been told about the army leaving\r
+Moscow, a thin, sallow, tattered French soldier came up to the door of\r
+the shed. Rapidly and timidly raising his fingers to his forehead by way\r
+of greeting, he asked Pierre whether the soldier Platoche to whom he had\r
+given a shirt to sew was in that shed.\r
+\r
+A week before the French had had boot leather and linen issued to them,\r
+which they had given out to the prisoners to make up into boots and\r
+shirts for them.\r
+\r
+"Ready, ready, dear fellow!" said Karataev, coming out with a neatly\r
+folded shirt.\r
+\r
+Karataev, on account of the warm weather and for convenience at work,\r
+was wearing only trousers and a tattered shirt as black as soot. His\r
+hair was bound round, workman fashion, with a wisp of lime-tree bast,\r
+and his round face seemed rounder and pleasanter than ever.\r
+\r
+"A promise is own brother to performance! I said Friday and here it is,\r
+ready," said Platon, smiling and unfolding the shirt he had sewn.\r
+\r
+The Frenchman glanced around uneasily and then, as if overcoming his\r
+hesitation, rapidly threw off his uniform and put on the shirt. He had a\r
+long, greasy, flowered silk waistcoat next to his sallow, thin bare\r
+body, but no shirt. He was evidently afraid the prisoners looking on\r
+would laugh at him, and thrust his head into the shirt hurriedly. None\r
+of the prisoners said a word.\r
+\r
+"See, it fits well!" Platon kept repeating, pulling the shirt straight.\r
+\r
+The Frenchman, having pushed his head and hands through, without raising\r
+his eyes, looked down at the shirt and examined the seams.\r
+\r
+"You see, dear man, this is not a sewing shop, and I had no proper\r
+tools; and, as they say, one needs a tool even to kill a louse," said\r
+Platon with one of his round smiles, obviously pleased with his work.\r
+\r
+"It's good, quite good, thank you," said the Frenchman, in French, "but\r
+there must be some linen left over.\r
+\r
+"It will fit better still when it sets to your body," said Karataev,\r
+still admiring his handiwork. "You'll be nice and comfortable...."\r
+\r
+"Thanks, thanks, old fellow.... But the bits left over?" said the\r
+Frenchman again and smiled. He took out an assignation ruble note and\r
+gave it to Karataev. "But give me the pieces that are over."\r
+\r
+Pierre saw that Platon did not want to understand what the Frenchman was\r
+saying, and he looked on without interfering. Karataev thanked the\r
+Frenchman for the money and went on admiring his own work. The Frenchman\r
+insisted on having the pieces returned that were left over and asked\r
+Pierre to translate what he said.\r
+\r
+"What does he want the bits for?" said Karataev. "They'd make fine leg\r
+bands for us. Well, never mind."\r
+\r
+And Karataev, with a suddenly changed and saddened expression, took a\r
+small bundle of scraps from inside his shirt and gave it to the\r
+Frenchman without looking at him. "Oh dear!" muttered Karataev and went\r
+away. The Frenchman looked at the linen, considered for a moment, then\r
+looked inquiringly at Pierre and, as if Pierre's look had told him\r
+something, suddenly blushed and shouted in a squeaky voice:\r
+\r
+"Platoche! Eh, Platoche! Keep them yourself!" And handing back the odd\r
+bits he turned and went out.\r
+\r
+"There, look at that," said Karataev, swaying his head. "People said\r
+they were not Christians, but they too have souls. It's what the old\r
+folk used to say: 'A sweating hand's an open hand, a dry hand's close.'\r
+He's naked, but yet he's given it back."\r
+\r
+Karataev smiled thoughtfully and was silent awhile looking at the\r
+pieces.\r
+\r
+"But they'll make grand leg bands, dear friend," he said, and went back\r
+into the shed.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+Four weeks had passed since Pierre had been taken prisoner and though\r
+the French had offered to move him from the men's to the officers' shed,\r
+he had stayed in the shed where he was first put.\r
+\r
+In burned and devastated Moscow Pierre experienced almost the extreme\r
+limits of privation a man can endure; but thanks to his physical\r
+strength and health, of which he had till then been unconscious, and\r
+thanks especially to the fact that the privations came so gradually that\r
+it was impossible to say when they began, he endured his position not\r
+only lightly but joyfully. And just at this time he obtained the\r
+tranquillity and ease of mind he had formerly striven in vain to reach.\r
+He had long sought in different ways that tranquillity of mind, that\r
+inner harmony which had so impressed him in the soldiers at the battle\r
+of Borodino. He had sought it in philanthropy, in Freemasonry, in the\r
+dissipations of town life, in wine, in heroic feats of self-sacrifice,\r
+and in romantic love for Natasha; he had sought it by reasoning--and all\r
+these quests and experiments had failed him. And now without thinking\r
+about it he had found that peace and inner harmony only through the\r
+horror of death, through privation, and through what he recognized in\r
+Karataev.\r
+\r
+Those dreadful moments he had lived through at the executions had as it\r
+were forever washed away from his imagination and memory the agitating\r
+thoughts and feelings that had formerly seemed so important. It did not\r
+now occur to him to think of Russia, or the war, or politics, or\r
+Napoleon. It was plain to him that all these things were no business of\r
+his, and that he was not called on to judge concerning them and\r
+therefore could not do so. "Russia and summer weather are not bound\r
+together," he thought, repeating words of Karataev's which he found\r
+strangely consoling. His intention of killing Napoleon and his\r
+calculations of the cabalistic number of the beast of the Apocalypse now\r
+seemed to him meaningless and even ridiculous. His anger with his wife\r
+and anxiety that his name should not be smirched now seemed not merely\r
+trivial but even amusing. What concern was it of his that somewhere or\r
+other that woman was leading the life she preferred? What did it matter\r
+to anybody, and especially to him, whether or not they found out that\r
+their prisoner's name was Count Bezukhov?\r
+\r
+He now often remembered his conversation with Prince Andrew and quite\r
+agreed with him, though he understood Prince Andrew's thoughts somewhat\r
+differently. Prince Andrew had thought and said that happiness could\r
+only be negative, but had said it with a shade of bitterness and irony\r
+as though he was really saying that all desire for positive happiness is\r
+implanted in us merely to torment us and never be satisfied. But Pierre\r
+believed it without any mental reservation. The absence of suffering,\r
+the satisfaction of one's needs and consequent freedom in the choice of\r
+one's occupation, that is, of one's way of life, now seemed to Pierre to\r
+be indubitably man's highest happiness. Here and now for the first time\r
+he fully appreciated the enjoyment of eating when he wanted to eat,\r
+drinking when he wanted to drink, sleeping when he wanted to sleep, of\r
+warmth when he was cold, of talking to a fellow man when he wished to\r
+talk and to hear a human voice. The satisfaction of one's needs--good\r
+food, cleanliness, and freedom--now that he was deprived of all this,\r
+seemed to Pierre to constitute perfect happiness; and the choice of\r
+occupation, that is, of his way of life--now that that was so\r
+restricted--seemed to him such an easy matter that he forgot that a\r
+superfluity of the comforts of life destroys all joy in satisfying one's\r
+needs, while great freedom in the choice of occupation--such freedom as\r
+his wealth, his education, and his social position had given him in his\r
+own life--is just what makes the choice of occupation insolubly\r
+difficult and destroys the desire and possibility of having an\r
+occupation.\r
+\r
+All Pierre's daydreams now turned on the time when he would be free. Yet\r
+subsequently, and for the rest of his life, he thought and spoke with\r
+enthusiasm of that month of captivity, of those irrecoverable, strong,\r
+joyful sensations, and chiefly of the complete peace of mind and inner\r
+freedom which he experienced only during those weeks.\r
+\r
+When on the first day he got up early, went out of the shed at dawn, and\r
+saw the cupolas and crosses of the New Convent of the Virgin still dark\r
+at first, the hoarfrost on the dusty grass, the Sparrow Hills, and the\r
+wooded banks above the winding river vanishing in the purple distance,\r
+when he felt the contact of the fresh air and heard the noise of the\r
+crows flying from Moscow across the field, and when afterwards light\r
+gleamed from the east and the sun's rim appeared solemnly from behind a\r
+cloud, and the cupolas and crosses, the hoarfrost, the distance and the\r
+river, all began to sparkle in the glad light--Pierre felt a new joy and\r
+strength in life such as he had never before known. And this not only\r
+stayed with him during the whole of his imprisonment, but even grew in\r
+strength as the hardships of his position increased.\r
+\r
+That feeling of alertness and of readiness for anything was still\r
+further strengthened in him by the high opinion his fellow prisoners\r
+formed of him soon after his arrival at the shed. With his knowledge of\r
+languages, the respect shown him by the French, his simplicity, his\r
+readiness to give anything asked of him (he received the allowance of\r
+three rubles a week made to officers); with his strength, which he\r
+showed to the soldiers by pressing nails into the walls of the hut; his\r
+gentleness to his companions, and his capacity for sitting still and\r
+thinking without doing anything (which seemed to them incomprehensible),\r
+he appeared to them a rather mysterious and superior being. The very\r
+qualities that had been a hindrance, if not actually harmful, to him in\r
+the world he had lived in--his strength, his disdain for the comforts of\r
+life, his absent-mindedness and simplicity--here among these people gave\r
+him almost the status of a hero. And Pierre felt that their opinion\r
+placed responsibilities upon him.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIII\r
+\r
+The French evacuation began on the night between the sixth and seventh\r
+of October: kitchens and sheds were dismantled, carts loaded, and troops\r
+and baggage trains started.\r
+\r
+At seven in the morning a French convoy in marching trim, wearing shakos\r
+and carrying muskets, knapsacks, and enormous sacks, stood in front of\r
+the sheds, and animated French talk mingled with curses sounded all\r
+along the lines.\r
+\r
+In the shed everyone was ready, dressed, belted, shod, and only awaited\r
+the order to start. The sick soldier, Sokolov, pale and thin with dark\r
+shadows round his eyes, alone sat in his place barefoot and not dressed.\r
+His eyes, prominent from the emaciation of his face, gazed inquiringly\r
+at his comrades who were paying no attention to him, and he moaned\r
+regularly and quietly. It was evidently not so much his sufferings that\r
+caused him to moan (he had dysentery) as his fear and grief at being\r
+left alone.\r
+\r
+Pierre, girt with a rope round his waist and wearing shoes Karataev had\r
+made for him from some leather a French soldier had torn off a tea chest\r
+and brought to have his boots mended with, went up to the sick man and\r
+squatted down beside him.\r
+\r
+"You know, Sokolov, they are not all going away! They have a hospital\r
+here. You may be better off than we others," said Pierre.\r
+\r
+"O Lord! Oh, it will be the death of me! O Lord!" moaned the man in a\r
+louder voice.\r
+\r
+"I'll go and ask them again directly," said Pierre, rising and going to\r
+the door of the shed.\r
+\r
+Just as Pierre reached the door, the corporal who had offered him a pipe\r
+the day before came up to it with two soldiers. The corporal and\r
+soldiers were in marching kit with knapsacks and shakos that had metal\r
+straps, and these changed their familiar faces.\r
+\r
+The corporal came, according to orders, to shut the door. The prisoners\r
+had to be counted before being let out.\r
+\r
+"Corporal, what will they do with the sick man?..." Pierre began.\r
+\r
+But even as he spoke he began to doubt whether this was the corporal he\r
+knew or a stranger, so unlike himself did the corporal seem at that\r
+moment. Moreover, just as Pierre was speaking a sharp rattle of drums\r
+was suddenly heard from both sides. The corporal frowned at Pierre's\r
+words and, uttering some meaningless oaths, slammed the door. The shed\r
+became semidark, and the sharp rattle of the drums on two sides drowned\r
+the sick man's groans.\r
+\r
+"There it is!... It again!..." said Pierre to himself, and an\r
+involuntary shudder ran down his spine. In the corporal's changed face,\r
+in the sound of his voice, in the stirring and deafening noise of the\r
+drums, he recognized that mysterious, callous force which compelled\r
+people against their will to kill their fellow men--that force the\r
+effect of which he had witnessed during the executions. To fear or to\r
+try to escape that force, to address entreaties or exhortations to those\r
+who served as its tools, was useless. Pierre knew this now. One had to\r
+wait and endure. He did not again go to the sick man, nor turn to look\r
+at him, but stood frowning by the door of the hut.\r
+\r
+When that door was opened and the prisoners, crowding against one\r
+another like a flock of sheep, squeezed into the exit, Pierre pushed his\r
+way forward and approached that very captain who as the corporal had\r
+assured him was ready to do anything for him. The captain was also in\r
+marching kit, and on his cold face appeared that same it which Pierre\r
+had recognized in the corporal's words and in the roll of the drums.\r
+\r
+"Pass on, pass on!" the captain reiterated, frowning sternly, and\r
+looking at the prisoners who thronged past him.\r
+\r
+Pierre went up to him, though he knew his attempt would be vain.\r
+\r
+"What now?" the officer asked with a cold look as if not recognizing\r
+Pierre.\r
+\r
+Pierre told him about the sick man.\r
+\r
+"He'll manage to walk, devil take him!" said the captain. "Pass on, pass\r
+on!" he continued without looking at Pierre.\r
+\r
+"But he is dying," Pierre again began.\r
+\r
+"Be so good..." shouted the captain, frowning angrily.\r
+\r
+"Dram-da-da-dam, dam-dam..." rattled the drums, and Pierre understood\r
+that this mysterious force completely controlled these men and that it\r
+was now useless to say any more.\r
+\r
+The officer prisoners were separated from the soldiers and told to march\r
+in front. There were about thirty officers, with Pierre among them, and\r
+about three hundred men.\r
+\r
+The officers, who had come from the other sheds, were all strangers to\r
+Pierre and much better dressed than he. They looked at him and at his\r
+shoes mistrustfully, as at an alien. Not far from him walked a fat major\r
+with a sallow, bloated, angry face, who was wearing a Kazan dressing\r
+gown tied round with a towel, and who evidently enjoyed the respect of\r
+his fellow prisoners. He kept one hand, in which he clasped his tobacco\r
+pouch, inside the bosom of his dressing gown and held the stem of his\r
+pipe firmly with the other. Panting and puffing, the major grumbled and\r
+growled at everybody because he thought he was being pushed and that\r
+they were all hurrying when they had nowhere to hurry to and were all\r
+surprised at something when there was nothing to be surprised at.\r
+Another, a thin little officer, was speaking to everyone, conjecturing\r
+where they were now being taken and how far they would get that day. An\r
+official in felt boots and wearing a commissariat uniform ran round from\r
+side to side and gazed at the ruins of Moscow, loudly announcing his\r
+observations as to what had been burned down and what this or that part\r
+of the city was that they could see. A third officer, who by his accent\r
+was a Pole, disputed with the commissariat officer, arguing that he was\r
+mistaken in his identification of the different wards of Moscow.\r
+\r
+"What are you disputing about?" said the major angrily. "What does it\r
+matter whether it is St. Nicholas or St. Blasius? You see it's burned\r
+down, and there's an end of it.... What are you pushing for? Isn't the\r
+road wide enough?" said he, turning to a man behind him who was not\r
+pushing him at all.\r
+\r
+"Oh, oh, oh! What have they done?" the prisoners on one side and another\r
+were heard saying as they gazed on the charred ruins. "All beyond the\r
+river, and Zubova, and in the Kremlin.... Just look! There's not half of\r
+it left. Yes, I told you--the whole quarter beyond the river, and so it\r
+is."\r
+\r
+"Well, you know it's burned, so what's the use of talking?" said the\r
+major.\r
+\r
+As they passed near a church in the Khamovniki (one of the few unburned\r
+quarters of Moscow) the whole mass of prisoners suddenly started to one\r
+side and exclamations of horror and disgust were heard.\r
+\r
+"Ah, the villains! What heathens! Yes; dead, dead, so he is... And\r
+smeared with something!"\r
+\r
+Pierre too drew near the church where the thing was that evoked these\r
+exclamations, and dimly made out something leaning against the palings\r
+surrounding the church. From the words of his comrades who saw better\r
+than he did, he found that this was the body of a man, set upright\r
+against the palings with its face smeared with soot.\r
+\r
+"Go on! What the devil... Go on! Thirty thousand devils!..." the convoy\r
+guards began cursing and the French soldiers, with fresh virulence,\r
+drove away with their swords the crowd of prisoners who were gazing at\r
+the dead man.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIV\r
+\r
+Through the cross streets of the Khamovniki quarter the prisoners\r
+marched, followed only by their escort and the vehicles and wagons\r
+belonging to that escort, but when they reached the supply stores they\r
+came among a huge and closely packed train of artillery mingled with\r
+private vehicles.\r
+\r
+At the bridge they all halted, waiting for those in front to get across.\r
+From the bridge they had a view of endless lines of moving baggage\r
+trains before and behind them. To the right, where the Kaluga road turns\r
+near Neskuchny, endless rows of troops and carts stretched away into the\r
+distance. These were troops of Beauharnais' corps which had started\r
+before any of the others. Behind, along the riverside and across the\r
+Stone Bridge, were Ney's troops and transport.\r
+\r
+Davout's troops, in whose charge were the prisoners, were crossing the\r
+Crimean bridge and some were already debouching into the Kaluga road.\r
+But the baggage trains stretched out so that the last of Beauharnais'\r
+train had not yet got out of Moscow and reached the Kaluga road when the\r
+vanguard of Ney's army was already emerging from the Great Ordynka\r
+Street.\r
+\r
+When they had crossed the Crimean bridge the prisoners moved a few steps\r
+forward, halted, and again moved on, and from all sides vehicles and men\r
+crowded closer and closer together. They advanced the few hundred paces\r
+that separated the bridge from the Kaluga road, taking more than an hour\r
+to do so, and came out upon the square where the streets of the\r
+Transmoskva ward and the Kaluga road converge, and the prisoners jammed\r
+close together had to stand for some hours at that crossway. From all\r
+sides, like the roar of the sea, were heard the rattle of wheels, the\r
+tramp of feet, and incessant shouts of anger and abuse. Pierre stood\r
+pressed against the wall of a charred house, listening to that noise\r
+which mingled in his imagination with the roll of the drums.\r
+\r
+To get a better view, several officer prisoners climbed onto the wall of\r
+the half-burned house against which Pierre was leaning.\r
+\r
+"What crowds! Just look at the crowds!... They've loaded goods even on\r
+the cannon! Look there, those are furs!" they exclaimed. "Just see what\r
+the blackguards have looted.... There! See what that one has behind in\r
+the cart.... Why, those are settings taken from some icons, by\r
+heaven!... Oh, the rascals!... See how that fellow has loaded himself\r
+up, he can hardly walk! Good lord, they've even grabbed those\r
+chaises!... See that fellow there sitting on the trunks.... Heavens!\r
+They're fighting."\r
+\r
+"That's right, hit him on the snout--on his snout! Like this, we shan't\r
+get away before evening. Look, look there.... Why, that must be\r
+Napoleon's own. See what horses! And the monograms with a crown! It's\r
+like a portable house.... That fellow's dropped his sack and doesn't see\r
+it. Fighting again... A woman with a baby, and not bad-looking either!\r
+Yes, I dare say, that's the way they'll let you pass... Just look,\r
+there's no end to it. Russian wenches, by heaven, so they are! In\r
+carriages--see how comfortably they've settled themselves!"\r
+\r
+Again, as at the church in Khamovniki, a wave of general curiosity bore\r
+all the prisoners forward onto the road, and Pierre, thanks to his\r
+stature, saw over the heads of the others what so attracted their\r
+curiosity. In three carriages involved among the munition carts, closely\r
+squeezed together, sat women with rouged faces, dressed in glaring\r
+colors, who were shouting something in shrill voices.\r
+\r
+From the moment Pierre had recognized the appearance of the mysterious\r
+force nothing had seemed to him strange or dreadful: neither the corpse\r
+smeared with soot for fun nor these women hurrying away nor the burned\r
+ruins of Moscow. All that he now witnessed scarcely made an impression\r
+on him--as if his soul, making ready for a hard struggle, refused to\r
+receive impressions that might weaken it.\r
+\r
+The women's vehicles drove by. Behind them came more carts, soldiers,\r
+wagons, soldiers, gun carriages, carriages, soldiers, ammunition carts,\r
+more soldiers, and now and then women.\r
+\r
+Pierre did not see the people as individuals but saw their movement.\r
+\r
+All these people and horses seemed driven forward by some invisible\r
+power. During the hour Pierre watched them they all came flowing from\r
+the different streets with one and the same desire to get on quickly;\r
+they all jostled one another, began to grow angry and to fight, white\r
+teeth gleamed, brows frowned, ever the same words of abuse flew from\r
+side to side, and all the faces bore the same swaggeringly resolute and\r
+coldly cruel expression that had struck Pierre that morning on the\r
+corporal's face when the drums were beating.\r
+\r
+It was not till nearly evening that the officer commanding the escort\r
+collected his men and with shouts and quarrels forced his way in among\r
+the baggage trains, and the prisoners, hemmed in on all sides, emerged\r
+onto the Kaluga road.\r
+\r
+They marched very quickly, without resting, and halted only when the sun\r
+began to set. The baggage carts drew up close together and the men began\r
+to prepare for their night's rest. They all appeared angry and\r
+dissatisfied. For a long time, oaths, angry shouts, and fighting could\r
+be heard from all sides. A carriage that followed the escort ran into\r
+one of the carts and knocked a hole in it with its pole. Several\r
+soldiers ran toward the cart from different sides: some beat the\r
+carriage horses on their heads, turning them aside, others fought among\r
+themselves, and Pierre saw that one German was badly wounded on the head\r
+by a sword.\r
+\r
+It seemed that all these men, now that they had stopped amid fields in\r
+the chill dusk of the autumn evening, experienced one and the same\r
+feeling of unpleasant awakening from the hurry and eagerness to push on\r
+that had seized them at the start. Once at a standstill they all seemed\r
+to understand that they did not yet know where they were going, and that\r
+much that was painful and difficult awaited them on this journey.\r
+\r
+During this halt the escort treated the prisoners even worse than they\r
+had done at the start. It was here that the prisoners for the first time\r
+received horseflesh for their meat ration.\r
+\r
+From the officer down to the lowest soldier they showed what seemed like\r
+personal spite against each of the prisoners, in unexpected contrast to\r
+their former friendly relations.\r
+\r
+This spite increased still more when, on calling over the roll of\r
+prisoners, it was found that in the bustle of leaving Moscow one Russian\r
+soldier, who had pretended to suffer from colic, had escaped. Pierre saw\r
+a Frenchman beat a Russian soldier cruelly for straying too far from the\r
+road, and heard his friend the captain reprimand and threaten to court-\r
+martial a noncommissioned officer on account of the escape of the\r
+Russian. To the noncommissioned officer's excuse that the prisoner was\r
+ill and could not walk, the officer replied that the order was to shoot\r
+those who lagged behind. Pierre felt that that fatal force which had\r
+crushed him during the executions, but which he had not felt during his\r
+imprisonment, now again controlled his existence. It was terrible, but\r
+he felt that in proportion to the efforts of that fatal force to crush\r
+him, there grew and strengthened in his soul a power of life independent\r
+of it.\r
+\r
+He ate his supper of buckwheat soup with horseflesh and chatted with his\r
+comrades.\r
+\r
+Neither Pierre nor any of the others spoke of what they had seen in\r
+Moscow, or of the roughness of their treatment by the French, or of the\r
+order to shoot them which had been announced to them. As if in reaction\r
+against the worsening of their position they were all particularly\r
+animated and gay. They spoke of personal reminiscences, of amusing\r
+scenes they had witnessed during the campaign, and avoided all talk of\r
+their present situation.\r
+\r
+The sun had set long since. Bright stars shone out here and there in the\r
+sky. A red glow as of a conflagration spread above the horizon from the\r
+rising full moon, and that vast red ball swayed strangely in the gray\r
+haze. It grew light. The evening was ending, but the night had not yet\r
+come. Pierre got up and left his new companions, crossing between the\r
+campfires to the other side of the road where he had been told the\r
+common soldier prisoners were stationed. He wanted to talk to them. On\r
+the road he was stopped by a French sentinel who ordered him back.\r
+\r
+Pierre turned back, not to his companions by the campfire, but to an\r
+unharnessed cart where there was nobody. Tucking his legs under him and\r
+dropping his head he sat down on the cold ground by the wheel of the\r
+cart and remained motionless a long while sunk in thought. Suddenly he\r
+burst out into a fit of his broad, good-natured laughter, so loud that\r
+men from various sides turned with surprise to see what this strange and\r
+evidently solitary laughter could mean.\r
+\r
+"Ha-ha-ha!" laughed Pierre. And he said aloud to himself: "The soldier\r
+did not let me pass. They took me and shut me up. They hold me captive.\r
+What, me? Me? My immortal soul? Ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha!..." and he laughed\r
+till tears started to his eyes.\r
+\r
+A man got up and came to see what this queer big fellow was laughing at\r
+all by himself. Pierre stopped laughing, got up, went farther away from\r
+the inquisitive man, and looked around him.\r
+\r
+The huge, endless bivouac that had previously resounded with the\r
+crackling of campfires and the voices of many men had grown quiet, the\r
+red campfires were growing paler and dying down. High up in the light\r
+sky hung the full moon. Forests and fields beyond the camp, unseen\r
+before, were now visible in the distance. And farther still, beyond\r
+those forests and fields, the bright, oscillating, limitless distance\r
+lured one to itself. Pierre glanced up at the sky and the twinkling\r
+stars in its faraway depths. "And all that is me, all that is within me,\r
+and it is all I!" thought Pierre. "And they caught all that and put it\r
+into a shed boarded up with planks!" He smiled, and went and lay down to\r
+sleep beside his companions.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XV\r
+\r
+In the early days of October another envoy came to Kutuzov with a letter\r
+from Napoleon proposing peace and falsely dated from Moscow, though\r
+Napoleon was already not far from Kutuzov on the old Kaluga road.\r
+Kutuzov replied to this letter as he had done to the one formerly\r
+brought by Lauriston, saying that there could be no question of peace.\r
+\r
+Soon after that a report was received from Dorokhov's guerrilla\r
+detachment operating to the left of Tarutino that troops of Broussier's\r
+division had been seen at Forminsk and that being separated from the\r
+rest of the French army they might easily be destroyed. The soldiers and\r
+officers again demanded action. Generals on the staff, excited by the\r
+memory of the easy victory at Tarutino, urged Kutuzov to carry out\r
+Dorokhov's suggestion. Kutuzov did not consider any offensive necessary.\r
+The result was a compromise which was inevitable: a small detachment was\r
+sent to Forminsk to attack Broussier.\r
+\r
+By a strange coincidence, this task, which turned out to be a most\r
+difficult and important one, was entrusted to Dokhturov--that same\r
+modest little Dokhturov whom no one had described to us as drawing up\r
+plans of battles, dashing about in front of regiments, showering crosses\r
+on batteries, and so on, and who was thought to be and was spoken of as\r
+undecided and undiscerning--but whom we find commanding wherever the\r
+position was most difficult all through the Russo-French wars from\r
+Austerlitz to the year 1813. At Austerlitz he remained last at the\r
+Augezd dam, rallying the regiments, saving what was possible when all\r
+were flying and perishing and not a single general was left in the rear\r
+guard. Ill with fever he went to Smolensk with twenty thousand men to\r
+defend the town against Napoleon's whole army. In Smolensk, at the\r
+Malakhov Gate, he had hardly dozed off in a paroxysm of fever before he\r
+was awakened by the bombardment of the town--and Smolensk held out all\r
+day long. At the battle of Borodino, when Bagration was killed and nine\r
+tenths of the men of our left flank had fallen and the full force of the\r
+French artillery fire was directed against it, the man sent there was\r
+this same irresolute and undiscerning Dokhturov--Kutuzov hastening to\r
+rectify a mistake he had made by sending someone else there first. And\r
+the quiet little Dokhturov rode thither, and Borodino became the\r
+greatest glory of the Russian army. Many heroes have been described to\r
+us in verse and prose, but of Dokhturov scarcely a word has been said.\r
+\r
+It was Dokhturov again whom they sent to Forminsk and from there to\r
+Malo-Yaroslavets, the place where the last battle with the French was\r
+fought and where the obvious disintegration of the French army began;\r
+and we are told of many geniuses and heroes of that period of the\r
+campaign, but of Dokhturov nothing or very little is said and that\r
+dubiously. And this silence about Dokhturov is the clearest testimony to\r
+his merit.\r
+\r
+It is natural for a man who does not understand the workings of a\r
+machine to imagine that a shaving that has fallen into it by chance and\r
+is interfering with its action and tossing about in it is its most\r
+important part. The man who does not understand the construction of the\r
+machine cannot conceive that the small connecting cogwheel which\r
+revolves quietly is one of the most essential parts of the machine, and\r
+not the shaving which merely harms and hinders the working.\r
+\r
+On the tenth of October when Dokhturov had gone halfway to Forminsk and\r
+stopped at the village of Aristovo, preparing faithfully to execute the\r
+orders he had received, the whole French army having, in its convulsive\r
+movement, reached Murat's position apparently in order to give battle--\r
+suddenly without any reason turned off to the left onto the new Kaluga\r
+road and began to enter Forminsk, where only Broussier had been till\r
+then. At that time Dokhturov had under his command, besides Dorokhov's\r
+detachment, the two small guerrilla detachments of Figner and Seslavin.\r
+\r
+On the evening of October 11 Seslavin came to the Aristovo headquarters\r
+with a French guardsman he had captured. The prisoner said that the\r
+troops that had entered Forminsk that day were the vanguard of the whole\r
+army, that Napoleon was there and the whole army had left Moscow four\r
+days previously. That same evening a house serf who had come from\r
+Borovsk said he had seen an immense army entering the town. Some\r
+Cossacks of Dokhturov's detachment reported having sighted the French\r
+Guards marching along the road to Borovsk. From all these reports it was\r
+evident that where they had expected to meet a single division there was\r
+now the whole French army marching from Moscow in an unexpected\r
+direction--along the Kaluga road. Dokhturov was unwilling to undertake\r
+any action, as it was not clear to him now what he ought to do. He had\r
+been ordered to attack Forminsk. But only Broussier had been there at\r
+that time and now the whole French army was there. Ermolov wished to act\r
+on his own judgment, but Dokhturov insisted that he must have Kutuzov's\r
+instructions. So it was decided to send a dispatch to the staff.\r
+\r
+For this purpose a capable officer, Bolkhovitinov, was chosen, who was\r
+to explain the whole affair by word of mouth, besides delivering a\r
+written report. Toward midnight Bolkhovitinov, having received the\r
+dispatch and verbal instructions, galloped off to the General Staff\r
+accompanied by a Cossack with spare horses.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVI\r
+\r
+It was a warm, dark, autumn night. It had been raining for four days.\r
+Having changed horses twice and galloped twenty miles in an hour and a\r
+half over a sticky, muddy road, Bolkhovitinov reached Litashevka after\r
+one o'clock at night. Dismounting at a cottage on whose wattle fence\r
+hung a signboard, GENERAL STAFF, and throwing down his reins, he entered\r
+a dark passage.\r
+\r
+"The general on duty, quick! It's very important!" said he to someone\r
+who had risen and was sniffing in the dark passage.\r
+\r
+"He has been very unwell since the evening and this is the third night\r
+he has not slept," said the orderly pleadingly in a whisper. "You should\r
+wake the captain first."\r
+\r
+"But this is very important, from General Dokhturov," said\r
+Bolkhovitinov, entering the open door which he had found by feeling in\r
+the dark.\r
+\r
+The orderly had gone in before him and began waking somebody.\r
+\r
+"Your honor, your honor! A courier."\r
+\r
+"What? What's that? From whom?" came a sleepy voice.\r
+\r
+"From Dokhturov and from Alexey Petrovich. Napoleon is at Forminsk,"\r
+said Bolkhovitinov, unable to see in the dark who was speaking but\r
+guessing by the voice that it was not Konovnitsyn.\r
+\r
+The man who had wakened yawned and stretched himself.\r
+\r
+"I don't like waking him," he said, fumbling for something. "He is very\r
+ill. Perhaps this is only a rumor."\r
+\r
+"Here is the dispatch," said Bolkhovitinov. "My orders are to give it at\r
+once to the general on duty."\r
+\r
+"Wait a moment, I'll light a candle. You damned rascal, where do you\r
+always hide it?" said the voice of the man who was stretching himself,\r
+to the orderly. (This was Shcherbinin, Konovnitsyn's adjutant.) "I've\r
+found it, I've found it!" he added.\r
+\r
+The orderly was striking a light and Shcherbinin was fumbling for\r
+something on the candlestick.\r
+\r
+"Oh, the nasty beasts!" said he with disgust.\r
+\r
+By the light of the sparks Bolkhovitinov saw Shcherbinin's youthful face\r
+as he held the candle, and the face of another man who was still asleep.\r
+This was Konovnitsyn.\r
+\r
+When the flame of the sulphur splinters kindled by the tinder burned up,\r
+first blue and then red, Shcherbinin lit the tallow candle, from the\r
+candlestick of which the cockroaches that had been gnawing it were\r
+running away, and looked at the messenger. Bolkhovitinov was bespattered\r
+all over with mud and had smeared his face by wiping it with his sleeve.\r
+\r
+"Who gave the report?" inquired Shcherbinin, taking the envelope.\r
+\r
+"The news is reliable," said Bolkhovitinov. "Prisoners, Cossacks, and\r
+the scouts all say the same thing."\r
+\r
+"There's nothing to be done, we'll have to wake him," said Shcherbinin,\r
+rising and going up to the man in the nightcap who lay covered by a\r
+greatcoat. "Peter Petrovich!" said he. (Konovnitsyn did not stir.) "To\r
+the General Staff!" he said with a smile, knowing that those words would\r
+be sure to arouse him.\r
+\r
+And in fact the head in the nightcap was lifted at once. On\r
+Konovnitsyn's handsome, resolute face with cheeks flushed by fever,\r
+there still remained for an instant a faraway dreamy expression remote\r
+from present affairs, but then he suddenly started and his face assumed\r
+its habitual calm and firm appearance.\r
+\r
+"Well, what is it? From whom?" he asked immediately but without hurry,\r
+blinking at the light.\r
+\r
+While listening to the officer's report Konovnitsyn broke the seal and\r
+read the dispatch. Hardly had he done so before he lowered his legs in\r
+their woolen stockings to the earthen floor and began putting on his\r
+boots. Then he took off his nightcap, combed his hair over his temples,\r
+and donned his cap.\r
+\r
+"Did you get here quickly? Let us go to his Highness."\r
+\r
+Konovnitsyn had understood at once that the news brought was of great\r
+importance and that no time must be lost. He did not consider or ask\r
+himself whether the news was good or bad. That did not interest him. He\r
+regarded the whole business of the war not with his intelligence or his\r
+reason but by something else. There was within him a deep unexpressed\r
+conviction that all would be well, but that one must not trust to this\r
+and still less speak about it, but must only attend to one's own work.\r
+And he did his work, giving his whole strength to the task.\r
+\r
+Peter Petrovich Konovnitsyn, like Dokhturov, seems to have been included\r
+merely for propriety's sake in the list of the so-called heroes of 1812-\r
+-the Barclays, Raevskis, Ermolovs, Platovs, and Miloradoviches. Like\r
+Dokhturov he had the reputation of being a man of very limited capacity\r
+and information, and like Dokhturov he never made plans of battle but\r
+was always found where the situation was most difficult. Since his\r
+appointment as general on duty he had always slept with his door open,\r
+giving orders that every messenger should be allowed to wake him up. In\r
+battle he was always under fire, so that Kutuzov reproved him for it and\r
+feared to send him to the front, and like Dokhturov he was one of those\r
+unnoticed cogwheels that, without clatter or noise, constitute the most\r
+essential part of the machine.\r
+\r
+Coming out of the hut into the damp, dark night Konovnitsyn frowned--\r
+partly from an increased pain in his head and partly at the unpleasant\r
+thought that occurred to him, of how all that nest of influential men on\r
+the staff would be stirred up by this news, especially Bennigsen, who\r
+ever since Tarutino had been at daggers drawn with Kutuzov; and how they\r
+would make suggestions, quarrel, issue orders, and rescind them. And\r
+this premonition was disagreeable to him though he knew it could not be\r
+helped.\r
+\r
+And in fact Toll, to whom he went to communicate the news, immediately\r
+began to expound his plans to a general sharing his quarters, until\r
+Konovnitsyn, who listened in weary silence, reminded him that they must\r
+go to see his Highness.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVII\r
+\r
+Kutuzov like all old people did not sleep much at night. He often fell\r
+asleep unexpectedly in the daytime, but at night, lying on his bed\r
+without undressing, he generally remained awake thinking.\r
+\r
+So he lay now on his bed, supporting his large, heavy, scarred head on\r
+his plump hand, with his one eye open, meditating and peering into the\r
+darkness.\r
+\r
+Since Bennigsen, who corresponded with the Emperor and had more\r
+influence than anyone else on the staff, had begun to avoid him, Kutuzov\r
+was more at ease as to the possibility of himself and his troops being\r
+obliged to take part in useless aggressive movements. The lesson of the\r
+Tarutino battle and of the day before it, which Kutuzov remembered with\r
+pain, must, he thought, have some effect on others too.\r
+\r
+"They must understand that we can only lose by taking the offensive.\r
+Patience and time are my warriors, my champions," thought Kutuzov. He\r
+knew that an apple should not be plucked while it is green. It will fall\r
+of itself when ripe, but if picked unripe the apple is spoiled, the tree\r
+is harmed, and your teeth are set on edge. Like an experienced sportsman\r
+he knew that the beast was wounded, and wounded as only the whole\r
+strength of Russia could have wounded it, but whether it was mortally\r
+wounded or not was still an undecided question. Now by the fact of\r
+Lauriston and Barthelemi having been sent, and by the reports of the\r
+guerrillas, Kutuzov was almost sure that the wound was mortal. But he\r
+needed further proofs and it was necessary to wait.\r
+\r
+"They want to run to see how they have wounded it. Wait and we shall\r
+see! Continual maneuvers, continual advances!" thought he. "What for?\r
+Only to distinguish themselves! As if fighting were fun. They are like\r
+children from whom one can't get any sensible account of what has\r
+happened because they all want to show how well they can fight. But\r
+that's not what is needed now.\r
+\r
+"And what ingenious maneuvers they all propose to me! It seems to them\r
+that when they have thought of two or three contingencies" (he\r
+remembered the general plan sent him from Petersburg) "they have\r
+foreseen everything. But the contingencies are endless."\r
+\r
+The undecided question as to whether the wound inflicted at Borodino was\r
+mortal or not had hung over Kutuzov's head for a whole month. On the one\r
+hand the French had occupied Moscow. On the other Kutuzov felt assured\r
+with all his being that the terrible blow into which he and all the\r
+Russians had put their whole strength must have been mortal. But in any\r
+case proofs were needed; he had waited a whole month for them and grew\r
+more impatient the longer he waited. Lying on his bed during those\r
+sleepless nights he did just what he reproached those younger generals\r
+for doing. He imagined all sorts of possible contingencies, just like\r
+the younger men, but with this difference, that he saw thousands of\r
+contingencies instead of two or three and based nothing on them. The\r
+longer he thought the more contingencies presented themselves. He\r
+imagined all sorts of movements of the Napoleonic army as a whole or in\r
+sections--against Petersburg, or against him, or to outflank him. He\r
+thought too of the possibility (which he feared most of all) that\r
+Napoleon might fight him with his own weapon and remain in Moscow\r
+awaiting him. Kutuzov even imagined that Napoleon's army might turn back\r
+through Medyn and Yukhnov, but the one thing he could not foresee was\r
+what happened--the insane, convulsive stampede of Napoleon's army during\r
+its first eleven days after leaving Moscow: a stampede which made\r
+possible what Kutuzov had not yet even dared to think of--the complete\r
+extermination of the French. Dorokhov's report about Broussier's\r
+division, the guerrillas' reports of distress in Napoleon's army, rumors\r
+of preparations for leaving Moscow, all confirmed the supposition that\r
+the French army was beaten and preparing for flight. But these were only\r
+suppositions, which seemed important to the younger men but not to\r
+Kutuzov. With his sixty years' experience he knew what value to attach\r
+to rumors, knew how apt people who desire anything are to group all news\r
+so that it appears to confirm what they desire, and he knew how readily\r
+in such cases they omit all that makes for the contrary. And the more he\r
+desired it the less he allowed himself to believe it. This question\r
+absorbed all his mental powers. All else was to him only life's\r
+customary routine. To such customary routine belonged his conversations\r
+with the staff, the letters he wrote from Tarutino to Madame de Stael,\r
+the reading of novels, the distribution of awards, his correspondence\r
+with Petersburg, and so on. But the destruction of the French, which he\r
+alone foresaw, was his heart's one desire.\r
+\r
+On the night of the eleventh of October he lay leaning on his arm and\r
+thinking of that.\r
+\r
+There was a stir in the next room and he heard the steps of Toll,\r
+Konovnitsyn, and Bolkhovitinov.\r
+\r
+"Eh, who's there? Come in, come in! What news?" the field marshal called\r
+out to them.\r
+\r
+While a footman was lighting a candle, Toll communicated the substance\r
+of the news.\r
+\r
+"Who brought it?" asked Kutuzov with a look which, when the candle was\r
+lit, struck Toll by its cold severity.\r
+\r
+"There can be no doubt about it, your Highness."\r
+\r
+"Call him in, call him here."\r
+\r
+Kutuzov sat up with one leg hanging down from the bed and his big paunch\r
+resting against the other which was doubled under him. He screwed up his\r
+seeing eye to scrutinize the messenger more carefully, as if wishing to\r
+read in his face what preoccupied his own mind.\r
+\r
+"Tell me, tell me, friend," said he to Bolkhovitinov in his low, aged\r
+voice, as he pulled together the shirt which gaped open on his chest,\r
+"come nearer--nearer. What news have you brought me? Eh? That Napoleon\r
+has left Moscow? Are you sure? Eh?"\r
+\r
+Bolkhovitinov gave a detailed account from the beginning of all he had\r
+been told to report.\r
+\r
+"Speak quicker, quicker! Don't torture me!" Kutuzov interrupted him.\r
+\r
+Bolkhovitinov told him everything and was then silent, awaiting\r
+instructions. Toll was beginning to say something but Kutuzov checked\r
+him. He tried to say something, but his face suddenly puckered and\r
+wrinkled; he waved his arm at Toll and turned to the opposite side of\r
+the room, to the corner darkened by the icons that hung there.\r
+\r
+"O Lord, my Creator, Thou has heard our prayer..." said he in a\r
+tremulous voice with folded hands. "Russia is saved. I thank Thee, O\r
+Lord!" and he wept.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVIII\r
+\r
+From the time he received this news to the end of the campaign all\r
+Kutuzov's activity was directed toward restraining his troops, by\r
+authority, by guile, and by entreaty, from useless attacks, maneuvers,\r
+or encounters with the perishing enemy. Dokhturov went to Malo-\r
+Yaroslavets, but Kutuzov lingered with the main army and gave orders for\r
+the evacuation of Kaluga--a retreat beyond which town seemed to him\r
+quite possible.\r
+\r
+Everywhere Kutuzov retreated, but the enemy without waiting for his\r
+retreat fled in the opposite direction.\r
+\r
+Napoleon's historians describe to us his skilled maneuvers at Tarutino\r
+and Malo-Yaroslavets, and make conjectures as to what would have\r
+happened had Napoleon been in time to penetrate into the rich southern\r
+provinces.\r
+\r
+But not to speak of the fact that nothing prevented him from advancing\r
+into those southern provinces (for the Russian army did not bar his\r
+way), the historians forget that nothing could have saved his army, for\r
+then already it bore within itself the germs of inevitable ruin. How\r
+could that army--which had found abundant supplies in Moscow and had\r
+trampled them underfoot instead of keeping them, and on arriving at\r
+Smolensk had looted provisions instead of storing them--how could that\r
+army recuperate in Kaluga province, which was inhabited by Russians such\r
+as those who lived in Moscow, and where fire had the same property of\r
+consuming what was set ablaze?\r
+\r
+That army could not recover anywhere. Since the battle of Borodino and\r
+the pillage of Moscow it had borne within itself, as it were, the\r
+chemical elements of dissolution.\r
+\r
+The members of what had once been an army--Napoleon himself and all his\r
+soldiers fled--without knowing whither, each concerned only to make his\r
+escape as quickly as possible from this position, of the hopelessness of\r
+which they were all more or less vaguely conscious.\r
+\r
+So it came about that at the council at Malo-Yaroslavets, when the\r
+generals pretending to confer together expressed various opinions, all\r
+mouths were closed by the opinion uttered by the simple-minded soldier\r
+Mouton who, speaking last, said what they all felt: that the one thing\r
+needful was to get away as quickly as possible; and no one, not even\r
+Napoleon, could say anything against that truth which they all\r
+recognized.\r
+\r
+But though they all realized that it was necessary to get away, there\r
+still remained a feeling of shame at admitting that they must flee. An\r
+external shock was needed to overcome that shame, and this shock came in\r
+due time. It was what the French called "le hourra de l'Empereur."\r
+\r
+The day after the council at Malo-Yaroslavets Napoleon rode out early in\r
+the morning amid the lines of his army with his suite of marshals and an\r
+escort, on the pretext of inspecting the army and the scene of the\r
+previous and of the impending battle. Some Cossacks on the prowl for\r
+booty fell in with the Emperor and very nearly captured him. If the\r
+Cossacks did not capture Napoleon then, what saved him was the very\r
+thing that was destroying the French army, the booty on which the\r
+Cossacks fell. Here as at Tarutino they went after plunder, leaving the\r
+men. Disregarding Napoleon they rushed after the plunder and Napoleon\r
+managed to escape.\r
+\r
+When les enfants du Don might so easily have taken the Emperor himself\r
+in the midst of his army, it was clear that there was nothing for it but\r
+to fly as fast as possible along the nearest, familiar road. Napoleon\r
+with his forty-year-old stomach understood that hint, not feeling his\r
+former agility and boldness, and under the influence of the fright the\r
+Cossacks had given him he at once agreed with Mouton and issued orders--\r
+as the historians tell us--to retreat by the Smolensk road.\r
+\r
+That Napoleon agreed with Mouton, and that the army retreated, does not\r
+prove that Napoleon caused it to retreat, but that the forces which\r
+influenced the whole army and directed it along the Mozhaysk (that is,\r
+the Smolensk) road acted simultaneously on him also.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIX\r
+\r
+A man in motion always devises an aim for that motion. To be able to go\r
+a thousand miles he must imagine that something good awaits him at the\r
+end of those thousand miles. One must have the prospect of a promised\r
+land to have the strength to move.\r
+\r
+The promised land for the French during their advance had been Moscow,\r
+during their retreat it was their native land. But that native land was\r
+too far off, and for a man going a thousand miles it is absolutely\r
+necessary to set aside his final goal and to say to himself: "Today I\r
+shall get to a place twenty-five miles off where I shall rest and spend\r
+the night," and during the first day's journey that resting place\r
+eclipses his ultimate goal and attracts all his hopes and desires. And\r
+the impulses felt by a single person are always magnified in a crowd.\r
+\r
+For the French retreating along the old Smolensk road, the final goal--\r
+their native land--was too remote, and their immediate goal was\r
+Smolensk, toward which all their desires and hopes, enormously\r
+intensified in the mass, urged them on. It was not that they knew that\r
+much food and fresh troops awaited them in Smolensk, nor that they were\r
+told so (on the contrary their superior officers, and Napoleon himself,\r
+knew that provisions were scarce there), but because this alone could\r
+give them strength to move on and endure their present privations. So\r
+both those who knew and those who did not know deceived themselves, and\r
+pushed on to Smolensk as to a promised land.\r
+\r
+Coming out onto the highroad the French fled with surprising energy and\r
+unheard-of rapidity toward the goal they had fixed on. Besides the\r
+common impulse which bound the whole crowd of French into one mass and\r
+supplied them with a certain energy, there was another cause binding\r
+them together--their great numbers. As with the physical law of gravity,\r
+their enormous mass drew the individual human atoms to itself. In their\r
+hundreds of thousands they moved like a whole nation.\r
+\r
+Each of them desired nothing more than to give himself up as a prisoner\r
+to escape from all this horror and misery; but on the one hand the force\r
+of this common attraction to Smolensk, their goal, drew each of them in\r
+the same direction; on the other hand an army corps could not surrender\r
+to a company, and though the French availed themselves of every\r
+convenient opportunity to detach themselves and to surrender on the\r
+slightest decent pretext, such pretexts did not always occur. Their very\r
+numbers and their crowded and swift movement deprived them of that\r
+possibility and rendered it not only difficult but impossible for the\r
+Russians to stop this movement, to which the French were directing all\r
+their energies. Beyond a certain limit no mechanical disruption of the\r
+body could hasten the process of decomposition.\r
+\r
+A lump of snow cannot be melted instantaneously. There is a certain\r
+limit of time in less than which no amount of heat can melt the snow. On\r
+the contrary the greater the heat the more solidified the remaining snow\r
+becomes.\r
+\r
+Of the Russian commanders Kutuzov alone understood this. When the flight\r
+of the French army along the Smolensk road became well defined, what\r
+Konovnitsyn had foreseen on the night of the eleventh of October began\r
+to occur. The superior officers all wanted to distinguish themselves, to\r
+cut off, to seize, to capture, and to overthrow the French, and all\r
+clamored for action.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov alone used all his power (and such power is very limited in the\r
+case of any commander-in-chief) to prevent an attack.\r
+\r
+He could not tell them what we say now: "Why fight, why block the road,\r
+losing our own men and inhumanly slaughtering unfortunate wretches? What\r
+is the use of that, when a third of their army has melted away on the\r
+road from Moscow to Vyazma without any battle?" But drawing from his\r
+aged wisdom what they could understand, he told them of the golden\r
+bridge, and they laughed at and slandered him, flinging themselves on,\r
+rending and exulting over the dying beast.\r
+\r
+Ermolov, Miloradovich, Platov, and others in proximity to the French\r
+near Vyazma could not resist their desire to cut off and break up two\r
+French corps, and by way of reporting their intention to Kutuzov they\r
+sent him a blank sheet of paper in an envelope.\r
+\r
+And try as Kutuzov might to restrain the troops, our men attacked,\r
+trying to bar the road. Infantry regiments, we are told, advanced to the\r
+attack with music and with drums beating, and killed and lost thousands\r
+of men.\r
+\r
+But they did not cut off or overthrow anybody and the French army,\r
+closing up more firmly at the danger, continued, while steadily melting\r
+away, to pursue its fatal path to Smolensk.\r
+\r
+BOOK FOURTEEN: 1812\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+The Battle of Borodino, with the occupation of Moscow that followed it\r
+and the flight of the French without further conflicts, is one of the\r
+most instructive phenomena in history.\r
+\r
+All historians agree that the external activity of states and nations in\r
+their conflicts with one another is expressed in wars, and that as a\r
+direct result of greater or less success in war the political strength\r
+of states and nations increases or decreases.\r
+\r
+Strange as may be the historical account of how some king or emperor,\r
+having quarreled with another, collects an army, fights his enemy's\r
+army, gains a victory by killing three, five, or ten thousand men, and\r
+subjugates a kingdom and an entire nation of several millions, all the\r
+facts of history (as far as we know it) confirm the truth of the\r
+statement that the greater or lesser success of one army against another\r
+is the cause, or at least an essential indication, of an increase or\r
+decrease in the strength of the nation--even though it is unintelligible\r
+why the defeat of an army--a hundredth part of a nation--should oblige\r
+that whole nation to submit. An army gains a victory, and at once the\r
+rights of the conquering nation have increased to the detriment of the\r
+defeated. An army has suffered defeat, and at once a people loses its\r
+rights in proportion to the severity of the reverse, and if its army\r
+suffers a complete defeat the nation is quite subjugated.\r
+\r
+So according to history it has been found from the most ancient times,\r
+and so it is to our own day. All Napoleon's wars serve to confirm this\r
+rule. In proportion to the defeat of the Austrian army Austria loses its\r
+rights, and the rights and the strength of France increase. The\r
+victories of the French at Jena and Auerstadt destroy the independent\r
+existence of Prussia.\r
+\r
+But then, in 1812, the French gain a victory near Moscow. Moscow is\r
+taken and after that, with no further battles, it is not Russia that\r
+ceases to exist, but the French army of six hundred thousand, and then\r
+Napoleonic France itself. To strain the facts to fit the rules of\r
+history: to say that the field of battle at Borodino remained in the\r
+hands of the Russians, or that after Moscow there were other battles\r
+that destroyed Napoleon's army, is impossible.\r
+\r
+After the French victory at Borodino there was no general engagement nor\r
+any that were at all serious, yet the French army ceased to exist. What\r
+does this mean? If it were an example taken from the history of China,\r
+we might say that it was not an historic phenomenon (which is the\r
+historians' usual expedient when anything does not fit their standards);\r
+if the matter concerned some brief conflict in which only a small number\r
+of troops took part, we might treat it as an exception; but this event\r
+occurred before our fathers' eyes, and for them it was a question of the\r
+life or death of their fatherland, and it happened in the greatest of\r
+all known wars.\r
+\r
+The period of the campaign of 1812 from the battle of Borodino to the\r
+expulsion of the French proved that the winning of a battle does not\r
+produce a conquest and is not even an invariable indication of conquest;\r
+it proved that the force which decides the fate of peoples lies not in\r
+the conquerors, nor even in armies and battles, but in something else.\r
+\r
+The French historians, describing the condition of the French army\r
+before it left Moscow, affirm that all was in order in the Grand Army,\r
+except the cavalry, the artillery, and the transport--there was no\r
+forage for the horses or the cattle. That was a misfortune no one could\r
+remedy, for the peasants of the district burned their hay rather than\r
+let the French have it.\r
+\r
+The victory gained did not bring the usual results because the peasants\r
+Karp and Vlas (who after the French had evacuated Moscow drove in their\r
+carts to pillage the town, and in general personally failed to manifest\r
+any heroic feelings), and the whole innumerable multitude of such\r
+peasants, did not bring their hay to Moscow for the high price offered\r
+them, but burned it instead.\r
+\r
+Let us imagine two men who have come out to fight a duel with rapiers\r
+according to all the rules of the art of fencing. The fencing has gone\r
+on for some time; suddenly one of the combatants, feeling himself\r
+wounded and understanding that the matter is no joke but concerns his\r
+life, throws down his rapier, and seizing the first cudgel that comes to\r
+hand begins to brandish it. Then let us imagine that the combatant who\r
+so sensibly employed the best and simplest means to attain his end was\r
+at the same time influenced by traditions of chivalry and, desiring to\r
+conceal the facts of the case, insisted that he had gained his victory\r
+with the rapier according to all the rules of art. One can imagine what\r
+confusion and obscurity would result from such an account of the duel.\r
+\r
+The fencer who demanded a contest according to the rules of fencing was\r
+the French army; his opponent who threw away the rapier and snatched up\r
+the cudgel was the Russian people; those who try to explain the matter\r
+according to the rules of fencing are the historians who have described\r
+the event.\r
+\r
+After the burning of Smolensk a war began which did not follow any\r
+previous traditions of war. The burning of towns and villages, the\r
+retreats after battles, the blow dealt at Borodino and the renewed\r
+retreat, the burning of Moscow, the capture of marauders, the seizure of\r
+transports, and the guerrilla war were all departures from the rules.\r
+\r
+Napoleon felt this, and from the time he took up the correct fencing\r
+attitude in Moscow and instead of his opponent's rapier saw a cudgel\r
+raised above his head, he did not cease to complain to Kutuzov and to\r
+the Emperor Alexander that the war was being carried on contrary to all\r
+the rules--as if there were any rules for killing people. In spite of\r
+the complaints of the French as to the nonobservance of the rules, in\r
+spite of the fact that to some highly placed Russians it seemed rather\r
+disgraceful to fight with a cudgel and they wanted to assume a pose en\r
+quarte or en tierce according to all the rules, and to make an adroit\r
+thrust en prime, and so on--the cudgel of the people's war was lifted\r
+with all its menacing and majestic strength, and without consulting\r
+anyone's tastes or rules and regardless of anything else, it rose and\r
+fell with stupid simplicity, but consistently, and belabored the French\r
+till the whole invasion had perished.\r
+\r
+And it is well for a people who do not--as the French did in 1813--\r
+salute according to all the rules of art, and, presenting the hilt of\r
+their rapier gracefully and politely, hand it to their magnanimous\r
+conqueror, but at the moment of trial, without asking what rules others\r
+have adopted in similar cases, simply and easily pick up the first\r
+cudgel that comes to hand and strike with it till the feeling of\r
+resentment and revenge in their soul yields to a feeling of contempt and\r
+compassion.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+One of the most obvious and advantageous departures from the so-called\r
+laws of war is the action of scattered groups against men pressed\r
+together in a mass. Such action always occurs in wars that take on a\r
+national character. In such actions, instead of two crowds opposing each\r
+other, the men disperse, attack singly, run away when attacked by\r
+stronger forces, but again attack when opportunity offers. This was done\r
+by the guerrillas in Spain, by the mountain tribes in the Caucasus, and\r
+by the Russians in 1812.\r
+\r
+People have called this kind of war "guerrilla warfare" and assume that\r
+by so calling it they have explained its meaning. But such a war does\r
+not fit in under any rule and is directly opposed to a well-known rule\r
+of tactics which is accepted as infallible. That rule says that an\r
+attacker should concentrate his forces in order to be stronger than his\r
+opponent at the moment of conflict.\r
+\r
+Guerrilla war (always successful, as history shows) directly infringes\r
+that rule.\r
+\r
+This contradiction arises from the fact that military science assumes\r
+the strength of an army to be identical with its numbers. Military\r
+science says that the more troops the greater the strength. Les gros\r
+bataillons ont toujours raison. *\r
+\r
+\r
+* Large battalions are always victorious.\r
+\r
+For military science to say this is like defining momentum in mechanics\r
+by reference to the mass only: stating that momenta are equal or unequal\r
+to each other simply because the masses involved are equal or unequal.\r
+\r
+Momentum (quantity of motion) is the product of mass and velocity.\r
+\r
+In military affairs the strength of an army is the product of its mass\r
+and some unknown x.\r
+\r
+Military science, seeing in history innumerable instances of the fact\r
+that the size of any army does not coincide with its strength and that\r
+small detachments defeat larger ones, obscurely admits the existence of\r
+this unknown factor and tries to discover it--now in a geometric\r
+formation, now in the equipment employed, now, and most usually, in the\r
+genius of the commanders. But the assignment of these various meanings\r
+to the factor does not yield results which accord with the historic\r
+facts.\r
+\r
+Yet it is only necessary to abandon the false view (adopted to gratify\r
+the "heroes") of the efficacy of the directions issued in wartime by\r
+commanders, in order to find this unknown quantity.\r
+\r
+That unknown quantity is the spirit of the army, that is to say, the\r
+greater or lesser readiness to fight and face danger felt by all the men\r
+composing an army, quite independently of whether they are, or are not,\r
+fighting under the command of a genius, in two--or three-line formation,\r
+with cudgels or with rifles that repeat thirty times a minute. Men who\r
+want to fight will always put themselves in the most advantageous\r
+conditions for fighting.\r
+\r
+The spirit of an army is the factor which multiplied by the mass gives\r
+the resulting force. To define and express the significance of this\r
+unknown factor--the spirit of an army--is a problem for science.\r
+\r
+This problem is only solvable if we cease arbitrarily to substitute for\r
+the unknown x itself the conditions under which that force becomes\r
+apparent--such as the commands of the general, the equipment employed,\r
+and so on--mistaking these for the real significance of the factor, and\r
+if we recognize this unknown quantity in its entirety as being the\r
+greater or lesser desire to fight and to face danger. Only then,\r
+expressing known historic facts by equations and comparing the relative\r
+significance of this factor, can we hope to define the unknown.\r
+\r
+Ten men, battalions, or divisions, fighting fifteen men, battalions, or\r
+divisions, conquer--that is, kill or take captive--all the others, while\r
+themselves losing four, so that on the one side four and on the other\r
+fifteen were lost. Consequently the four were equal to the fifteen, and\r
+therefore 4x = 15y. Consequently x/y = 15/4. This equation does not give\r
+us the value of the unknown factor but gives us a ratio between two\r
+unknowns. And by bringing variously selected historic units (battles,\r
+campaigns, periods of war) into such equations, a series of numbers\r
+could be obtained in which certain laws should exist and might be\r
+discovered.\r
+\r
+The tactical rule that an army should act in masses when attacking, and\r
+in smaller groups in retreat, unconsciously confirms the truth that the\r
+strength of an army depends on its spirit. To lead men forward under\r
+fire more discipline (obtainable only by movement in masses) is needed\r
+than is needed to resist attacks. But this rule which leaves out of\r
+account the spirit of the army continually proves incorrect and is in\r
+particularly striking contrast to the facts when some strong rise or\r
+fall in the spirit of the troops occurs, as in all national wars.\r
+\r
+The French, retreating in 1812--though according to tactics they should\r
+have separated into detachments to defend themselves--congregated into a\r
+mass because the spirit of the army had so fallen that only the mass\r
+held the army together. The Russians, on the contrary, ought according\r
+to tactics to have attacked in mass, but in fact they split up into\r
+small units, because their spirit had so risen that separate\r
+individuals, without orders, dealt blows at the French without needing\r
+any compulsion to induce them to expose themselves to hardships and\r
+dangers.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+The so-called partisan war began with the entry of the French into\r
+Smolensk.\r
+\r
+Before partisan warfare had been officially recognized by the\r
+government, thousands of enemy stragglers, marauders, and foragers had\r
+been destroyed by the Cossacks and the peasants, who killed them off as\r
+instinctively as dogs worry a stray mad dog to death. Denis Davydov,\r
+with his Russian instinct, was the first to recognize the value of this\r
+terrible cudgel which regardless of the rules of military science\r
+destroyed the French, and to him belongs the credit for taking the first\r
+step toward regularizing this method of warfare.\r
+\r
+On August 24 Davydov's first partisan detachment was formed and then\r
+others were recognized. The further the campaign progressed the more\r
+numerous these detachments became.\r
+\r
+The irregulars destroyed the great army piecemeal. They gathered the\r
+fallen leaves that dropped of themselves from that withered tree--the\r
+French army--and sometimes shook that tree itself. By October, when the\r
+French were fleeing toward Smolensk, there were hundreds of such\r
+companies, of various sizes and characters. There were some that adopted\r
+all the army methods and had infantry, artillery, staffs, and the\r
+comforts of life. Others consisted solely of Cossack cavalry. There were\r
+also small scratch groups of foot and horse, and groups of peasants and\r
+landowners that remained unknown. A sacristan commanded one party which\r
+captured several hundred prisoners in the course of a month; and there\r
+was Vasilisa, the wife of a village elder, who slew hundreds of the\r
+French.\r
+\r
+The partisan warfare flamed up most fiercely in the latter days of\r
+October. Its first period had passed: when the partisans themselves,\r
+amazed at their own boldness, feared every minute to be surrounded and\r
+captured by the French, and hid in the forests without unsaddling,\r
+hardly daring to dismount and always expecting to be pursued. By the end\r
+of October this kind of warfare had taken definite shape: it had become\r
+clear to all what could be ventured against the French and what could\r
+not. Now only the commanders of detachments with staffs, and moving\r
+according to rules at a distance from the French, still regarded many\r
+things as impossible. The small bands that had started their activities\r
+long before and had already observed the French closely considered\r
+things possible which the commanders of the big detachments did not dare\r
+to contemplate. The Cossacks and peasants who crept in among the French\r
+now considered everything possible.\r
+\r
+On October 22, Denisov (who was one of the irregulars) was with his\r
+group at the height of the guerrilla enthusiasm. Since early morning he\r
+and his party had been on the move. All day long he had been watching\r
+from the forest that skirted the highroad a large French convoy of\r
+cavalry baggage and Russian prisoners separated from the rest of the\r
+army, which--as was learned from spies and prisoners--was moving under a\r
+strong escort to Smolensk. Besides Denisov and Dolokhov (who also led a\r
+small party and moved in Denisov's vicinity), the commanders of some\r
+large divisions with staffs also knew of this convoy and, as Denisov\r
+expressed it, were sharpening their teeth for it. Two of the commanders\r
+of large parties--one a Pole and the other a German--sent invitations to\r
+Denisov almost simultaneously, requesting him to join up with their\r
+divisions to attack the convoy.\r
+\r
+"No, bwother, I have gwown mustaches myself," said Denisov on reading\r
+these documents, and he wrote to the German that, despite his heartfelt\r
+desire to serve under so valiant and renowned a general, he had to forgo\r
+that pleasure because he was already under the command of the Polish\r
+general. To the Polish general he replied to the same effect, informing\r
+him that he was already under the command of the German.\r
+\r
+Having arranged matters thus, Denisov and Dolokhov intended, without\r
+reporting matters to the higher command, to attack and seize that convoy\r
+with their own small forces. On October 22 it was moving from the\r
+village of Mikulino to that of Shamshevo. To the left of the road\r
+between Mikulino and Shamshevo there were large forests, extending in\r
+some places up to the road itself though in others a mile or more back\r
+from it. Through these forests Denisov and his party rode all day,\r
+sometimes keeping well back in them and sometimes coming to the very\r
+edge, but never losing sight of the moving French. That morning,\r
+Cossacks of Denisov's party had seized and carried off into the forest\r
+two wagons loaded with cavalry saddles, which had stuck in the mud not\r
+far from Mikulino where the forest ran close to the road. Since then,\r
+and until evening, the party had watched the movements of the French\r
+without attacking. It was necessary to let the French reach Shamshevo\r
+quietly without alarming them and then, after joining Dolokhov who was\r
+to come that evening to a consultation at a watchman's hut in the forest\r
+less than a mile from Shamshevo, to surprise the French at dawn, falling\r
+like an avalanche on their heads from two sides, and rout and capture\r
+them all at one blow.\r
+\r
+In their rear, more than a mile from Mikulino where the forest came\r
+right up to the road, six Cossacks were posted to report if any fresh\r
+columns of French should show themselves.\r
+\r
+Beyond Shamshevo, Dolokhov was to observe the road in the same way, to\r
+find out at what distance there were other French troops. They reckoned\r
+that the convoy had fifteen hundred men. Denisov had two hundred, and\r
+Dolokhov might have as many more, but the disparity of numbers did not\r
+deter Denisov. All that he now wanted to know was what troops these were\r
+and to learn that he had to capture a "tongue"--that is, a man from the\r
+enemy column. That morning's attack on the wagons had been made so\r
+hastily that the Frenchmen with the wagons had all been killed; only a\r
+little drummer boy had been taken alive, and as he was a straggler he\r
+could tell them nothing definite about the troops in that column.\r
+\r
+Denisov considered it dangerous to make a second attack for fear of\r
+putting the whole column on the alert, so he sent Tikhon Shcherbaty, a\r
+peasant of his party, to Shamshevo to try and seize at least one of the\r
+French quartermasters who had been sent on in advance.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+It was a warm rainy autumn day. The sky and the horizon were both the\r
+color of muddy water. At times a sort of mist descended, and then\r
+suddenly heavy slanting rain came down.\r
+\r
+Denisov in a felt cloak and a sheepskin cap from which the rain ran down\r
+was riding a thin thoroughbred horse with sunken sides. Like his horse,\r
+which turned its head and laid its ears back, he shrank from the driving\r
+rain and gazed anxiously before him. His thin face with its short, thick\r
+black beard looked angry.\r
+\r
+Beside Denisov rode an esaul, * Denisov's fellow worker, also in felt\r
+cloak and sheepskin cap, and riding a large sleek Don horse.\r
+\r
+\r
+* A captain of Cossacks.\r
+\r
+Esaul Lovayski the Third was a tall man as straight as an arrow, pale-\r
+faced, fair-haired, with narrow light eyes and with calm self-\r
+satisfaction in his face and bearing. Though it was impossible to say in\r
+what the peculiarity of the horse and rider lay, yet at first glance at\r
+the esaul and Denisov one saw that the latter was wet and uncomfortable\r
+and was a man mounted on a horse, while looking at the esaul one saw\r
+that he was as comfortable and as much at ease as always and that he was\r
+not a man who had mounted a horse, but a man who was one with his horse,\r
+a being consequently possessed of twofold strength.\r
+\r
+A little ahead of them walked a peasant guide, wet to the skin and\r
+wearing a gray peasant coat and a white knitted cap.\r
+\r
+A little behind, on a poor, small, lean Kirghiz mount with an enormous\r
+tail and mane and a bleeding mouth, rode a young officer in a blue\r
+French overcoat.\r
+\r
+Beside him rode an hussar, with a boy in a tattered French uniform and\r
+blue cap behind him on the crupper of his horse. The boy held on to the\r
+hussar with cold, red hands, and raising his eyebrows gazed about him\r
+with surprise. This was the French drummer boy captured that morning.\r
+\r
+Behind them along the narrow, sodden, cutup forest road came hussars in\r
+threes and fours, and then Cossacks: some in felt cloaks, some in French\r
+greatcoats, and some with horsecloths over their heads. The horses,\r
+being drenched by the rain, all looked black whether chestnut or bay.\r
+Their necks, with their wet, close-clinging manes, looked strangely\r
+thin. Steam rose from them. Clothes, saddles, reins, were all wet,\r
+slippery, and sodden, like the ground and the fallen leaves that strewed\r
+the road. The men sat huddled up trying not to stir, so as to warm the\r
+water that had trickled to their bodies and not admit the fresh cold\r
+water that was leaking in under their seats, their knees, and at the\r
+back of their necks. In the midst of the outspread line of Cossacks two\r
+wagons, drawn by French horses and by saddled Cossack horses that had\r
+been hitched on in front, rumbled over the tree stumps and branches and\r
+splashed through the water that lay in the ruts.\r
+\r
+Denisov's horse swerved aside to avoid a pool in the track and bumped\r
+his rider's knee against a tree.\r
+\r
+"Oh, the devil!" exclaimed Denisov angrily, and showing his teeth he\r
+struck his horse three times with his whip, splashing himself and his\r
+comrades with mud.\r
+\r
+Denisov was out of sorts both because of the rain and also from hunger\r
+(none of them had eaten anything since morning), and yet more because he\r
+still had no news from Dolokhov and the man sent to capture a "tongue"\r
+had not returned.\r
+\r
+"There'll hardly be another such chance to fall on a transport as today.\r
+It's too risky to attack them by oneself, and if we put it off till\r
+another day one of the big guerrilla detachments will snatch the prey\r
+from under our noses," thought Denisov, continually peering forward,\r
+hoping to see a messenger from Dolokhov.\r
+\r
+On coming to a path in the forest along which he could see far to the\r
+right, Denisov stopped.\r
+\r
+"There's someone coming," said he.\r
+\r
+The esaul looked in the direction Denisov indicated.\r
+\r
+"There are two, an officer and a Cossack. But it is not presupposable\r
+that it is the lieutenant colonel himself," said the esaul, who was fond\r
+of using words the Cossacks did not know.\r
+\r
+The approaching riders having descended a decline were no longer\r
+visible, but they reappeared a few minutes later. In front, at a weary\r
+gallop and using his leather whip, rode an officer, disheveled and\r
+drenched, whose trousers had worked up to above his knees. Behind him,\r
+standing in the stirrups, trotted a Cossack. The officer, a very young\r
+lad with a broad rosy face and keen merry eyes, galloped up to Denisov\r
+and handed him a sodden envelope.\r
+\r
+"From the general," said the officer. "Please excuse its not being quite\r
+dry."\r
+\r
+Denisov, frowning, took the envelope and opened it.\r
+\r
+"There, they kept telling us: 'It's dangerous, it's dangerous,'" said\r
+the officer, addressing the esaul while Denisov was reading the\r
+dispatch. "But Komarov and I"--he pointed to the Cossack--"were\r
+prepared. We have each of us two pistols.... But what's this?" he asked,\r
+noticing the French drummer boy. "A prisoner? You've already been in\r
+action? May I speak to him?"\r
+\r
+"Wostov! Petya!" exclaimed Denisov, having run through the dispatch.\r
+"Why didn't you say who you were?" and turning with a smile he held out\r
+his hand to the lad.\r
+\r
+The officer was Petya Rostov.\r
+\r
+All the way Petya had been preparing himself to behave with Denisov as\r
+befitted a grownup man and an officer--without hinting at their previous\r
+acquaintance. But as soon as Denisov smiled at him Petya brightened up,\r
+blushed with pleasure, forgot the official manner he had been\r
+rehearsing, and began telling him how he had already been in a battle\r
+near Vyazma and how a certain hussar had distinguished himself there.\r
+\r
+"Well, I am glad to see you," Denisov interrupted him, and his face\r
+again assumed its anxious expression.\r
+\r
+"Michael Feoklitych," said he to the esaul, "this is again fwom that\r
+German, you know. He"--he indicated Petya--"is serving under him."\r
+\r
+And Denisov told the esaul that the dispatch just delivered was a\r
+repetition of the German general's demand that he should join forces\r
+with him for an attack on the transport.\r
+\r
+"If we don't take it tomowwow, he'll snatch it fwom under our noses," he\r
+added.\r
+\r
+While Denisov was talking to the esaul, Petya--abashed by Denisov's cold\r
+tone and supposing that it was due to the condition of his trousers--\r
+furtively tried to pull them down under his greatcoat so that no one\r
+should notice it, while maintaining as martial an air as possible.\r
+\r
+"Will there be any orders, your honor?" he asked Denisov, holding his\r
+hand at the salute and resuming the game of adjutant and general for\r
+which he had prepared himself, "or shall I remain with your honor?"\r
+\r
+"Orders?" Denisov repeated thoughtfully. "But can you stay till\r
+tomowwow?"\r
+\r
+"Oh, please... May I stay with you?" cried Petya.\r
+\r
+"But, just what did the genewal tell you? To weturn at once?" asked\r
+Denisov.\r
+\r
+Petya blushed.\r
+\r
+"He gave me no instructions. I think I could?" he returned, inquiringly.\r
+\r
+"Well, all wight," said Denisov.\r
+\r
+And turning to his men he directed a party to go on to the halting place\r
+arranged near the watchman's hut in the forest, and told the officer on\r
+the Kirghiz horse (who performed the duties of an adjutant) to go and\r
+find out where Dolokhov was and whether he would come that evening.\r
+Denisov himself intended going with the esaul and Petya to the edge of\r
+the forest where it reached out to Shamshevo, to have a look at the part\r
+of the French bivouac they were to attack next day.\r
+\r
+"Well, old fellow," said he to the peasant guide, "lead us to\r
+Shamshevo."\r
+\r
+Denisov, Petya, and the esaul, accompanied by some Cossacks and the\r
+hussar who had the prisoner, rode to the left across a ravine to the\r
+edge of the forest.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+The rain had stopped, and only the mist was falling and drops from the\r
+trees. Denisov, the esaul, and Petya rode silently, following the\r
+peasant in the knitted cap who, stepping lightly with outturned toes and\r
+moving noiselessly in his bast shoes over the roots and wet leaves,\r
+silently led them to the edge of the forest.\r
+\r
+He ascended an incline, stopped, looked about him, and advanced to where\r
+the screen of trees was less dense. On reaching a large oak tree that\r
+had not yet shed its leaves, he stopped and beckoned mysteriously to\r
+them with his hand.\r
+\r
+Denisov and Petya rode up to him. From the spot where the peasant was\r
+standing they could see the French. Immediately beyond the forest, on a\r
+downward slope, lay a field of spring rye. To the right, beyond a steep\r
+ravine, was a small village and a landowner's house with a broken roof.\r
+In the village, in the house, in the garden, by the well, by the pond,\r
+over all the rising ground, and all along the road uphill from the\r
+bridge leading to the village, not more than five hundred yards away,\r
+crowds of men could be seen through the shimmering mist. Their un-\r
+Russian shouting at their horses which were straining uphill with the\r
+carts, and their calls to one another, could be clearly heard.\r
+\r
+"Bwing the prisoner here," said Denisov in a low voice, not taking his\r
+eyes off the French.\r
+\r
+A Cossack dismounted, lifted the boy down, and took him to Denisov.\r
+Pointing to the French troops, Denisov asked him what these and those of\r
+them were. The boy, thrusting his cold hands into his pockets and\r
+lifting his eyebrows, looked at Denisov in affright, but in spite of an\r
+evident desire to say all he knew gave confused answers, merely\r
+assenting to everything Denisov asked him. Denisov turned away from him\r
+frowning and addressed the esaul, conveying his own conjectures to him.\r
+\r
+Petya, rapidly turning his head, looked now at the drummer boy, now at\r
+Denisov, now at the esaul, and now at the French in the village and\r
+along the road, trying not to miss anything of importance.\r
+\r
+"Whether Dolokhov comes or not, we must seize it, eh?" said Denisov with\r
+a merry sparkle in his eyes.\r
+\r
+"It is a very suitable spot," said the esaul.\r
+\r
+"We'll send the infantwy down by the swamps," Denisov continued.\r
+"They'll cweep up to the garden; you'll wide up fwom there with the\r
+Cossacks"--he pointed to a spot in the forest beyond the village--"and I\r
+with my hussars fwom here. And at the signal shot..."\r
+\r
+"The hollow is impassable--there's a swamp there," said the esaul. "The\r
+horses would sink. We must ride round more to the left...."\r
+\r
+While they were talking in undertones the crack of a shot sounded from\r
+the low ground by the pond, a puff of white smoke appeared, then\r
+another, and the sound of hundreds of seemingly merry French voices\r
+shouting together came up from the slope. For a moment Denisov and the\r
+esaul drew back. They were so near that they thought they were the cause\r
+of the firing and shouting. But the firing and shouting did not relate\r
+to them. Down below, a man wearing something red was running through the\r
+marsh. The French were evidently firing and shouting at him.\r
+\r
+"Why, that's our Tikhon," said the esaul.\r
+\r
+"So it is! It is!"\r
+\r
+"The wascal!" said Denisov.\r
+\r
+"He'll get away!" said the esaul, screwing up his eyes.\r
+\r
+The man whom they called Tikhon, having run to the stream, plunged in so\r
+that the water splashed in the air, and, having disappeared for an\r
+instant, scrambled out on all fours, all black with the wet, and ran on.\r
+The French who had been pursuing him stopped.\r
+\r
+"Smart, that!" said the esaul.\r
+\r
+"What a beast!" said Denisov with his former look of vexation. "What has\r
+he been doing all this time?"\r
+\r
+"Who is he?" asked Petya.\r
+\r
+"He's our plastun. I sent him to capture a 'tongue.'"\r
+\r
+"Oh, yes," said Petya, nodding at the first words Denisov uttered as if\r
+he understood it all, though he really did not understand anything of\r
+it.\r
+\r
+Tikhon Shcherbaty was one of the most indispensable men in their band.\r
+He was a peasant from Pokrovsk, near the river Gzhat. When Denisov had\r
+come to Pokrovsk at the beginning of his operations and had as usual\r
+summoned the village elder and asked him what he knew about the French,\r
+the elder, as though shielding himself, had replied, as all village\r
+elders did, that he had neither seen nor heard anything of them. But\r
+when Denisov explained that his purpose was to kill the French, and\r
+asked if no French had strayed that way, the elder replied that some\r
+"more-orderers" had really been at their village, but that Tikhon\r
+Shcherbaty was the only man who dealt with such matters. Denisov had\r
+Tikhon called and, having praised him for his activity, said a few words\r
+in the elder's presence about loyalty to the Tsar and the country and\r
+the hatred of the French that all sons of the fatherland should cherish.\r
+\r
+"We don't do the French any harm," said Tikhon, evidently frightened by\r
+Denisov's words. "We only fooled about with the lads for fun, you know!\r
+We killed a score or so of 'more-orderers,' but we did no harm else..."\r
+\r
+Next day when Denisov had left Pokrovsk, having quite forgotten about\r
+this peasant, it was reported to him that Tikhon had attached himself to\r
+their party and asked to be allowed to remain with it. Denisov gave\r
+orders to let him do so.\r
+\r
+Tikhon, who at first did rough work, laying campfires, fetching water,\r
+flaying dead horses, and so on, soon showed a great liking and aptitude\r
+for partisan warfare. At night he would go out for booty and always\r
+brought back French clothing and weapons, and when told to would bring\r
+in French captives also. Denisov then relieved him from drudgery and\r
+began taking him with him when he went out on expeditions and had him\r
+enrolled among the Cossacks.\r
+\r
+Tikhon did not like riding, and always went on foot, never lagging\r
+behind the cavalry. He was armed with a musketoon (which he carried\r
+rather as a joke), a pike and an ax, which latter he used as a wolf uses\r
+its teeth, with equal ease picking fleas out of its fur or crunching\r
+thick bones. Tikhon with equal accuracy would split logs with blows at\r
+arm's length, or holding the head of the ax would cut thin little pegs\r
+or carve spoons. In Denisov's party he held a peculiar and exceptional\r
+position. When anything particularly difficult or nasty had to be done--\r
+to push a cart out of the mud with one's shoulders, pull a horse out of\r
+a swamp by its tail, skin it, slink in among the French, or walk more\r
+than thirty miles in a day--everybody pointed laughingly at Tikhon.\r
+\r
+"It won't hurt that devil--he's as strong as a horse!" they said of him.\r
+\r
+Once a Frenchman Tikhon was trying to capture fired a pistol at him and\r
+shot him in the fleshy part of the back. That wound (which Tikhon\r
+treated only with internal and external applications of vodka) was the\r
+subject of the liveliest jokes by the whole detachment--jokes in which\r
+Tikhon readily joined.\r
+\r
+"Hallo, mate! Never again? Gave you a twist?" the Cossacks would banter\r
+him. And Tikhon, purposely writhing and making faces, pretended to be\r
+angry and swore at the French with the funniest curses. The only effect\r
+of this incident on Tikhon was that after being wounded he seldom\r
+brought in prisoners.\r
+\r
+He was the bravest and most useful man in the party. No one found more\r
+opportunities for attacking, no one captured or killed more Frenchmen,\r
+and consequently he was made the buffoon of all the Cossacks and hussars\r
+and willingly accepted that role. Now he had been sent by Denisov\r
+overnight to Shamshevo to capture a "tongue." But whether because he had\r
+not been content to take only one Frenchman or because he had slept\r
+through the night, he had crept by day into some bushes right among the\r
+French and, as Denisov had witnessed from above, had been detected by\r
+them.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+After talking for some time with the esaul about next day's attack,\r
+which now, seeing how near they were to the French, he seemed to have\r
+definitely decided on, Denisov turned his horse and rode back.\r
+\r
+"Now, my lad, we'll go and get dwy," he said to Petya.\r
+\r
+As they approached the watchhouse Denisov stopped, peering into the\r
+forest. Among the trees a man with long legs and long, swinging arms,\r
+wearing a short jacket, bast shoes, and a Kazan hat, was approaching\r
+with long, light steps. He had a musketoon over his shoulder and an ax\r
+stuck in his girdle. When he espied Denisov he hastily threw something\r
+into the bushes, removed his sodden hat by its floppy brim, and\r
+approached his commander. It was Tikhon. His wrinkled and pockmarked\r
+face and narrow little eyes beamed with self-satisfied merriment. He\r
+lifted his head high and gazed at Denisov as if repressing a laugh.\r
+\r
+"Well, where did you disappear to?" inquired Denisov.\r
+\r
+"Where did I disappear to? I went to get Frenchmen," answered Tikhon\r
+boldly and hurriedly, in a husky but melodious bass voice.\r
+\r
+"Why did you push yourself in there by daylight? You ass! Well, why\r
+haven't you taken one?"\r
+\r
+"Oh, I took one all right," said Tikhon.\r
+\r
+"Where is he?"\r
+\r
+"You see, I took him first thing at dawn," Tikhon continued, spreading\r
+out his flat feet with outturned toes in their bast shoes. "I took him\r
+into the forest. Then I see he's no good and think I'll go and fetch a\r
+likelier one."\r
+\r
+"You see?... What a wogue--it's just as I thought," said Denisov to the\r
+esaul. "Why didn't you bwing that one?"\r
+\r
+"What was the good of bringing him?" Tikhon interrupted hastily and\r
+angrily--"that one wouldn't have done for you. As if I don't know what\r
+sort you want!"\r
+\r
+"What a bwute you are!... Well?"\r
+\r
+"I went for another one," Tikhon continued, "and I crept like this\r
+through the wood and lay down." (He suddenly lay down on his stomach\r
+with a supple movement to show how he had done it.) "One turned up and I\r
+grabbed him, like this." (He jumped up quickly and lightly.) "'Come\r
+along to the colonel,' I said. He starts yelling, and suddenly there\r
+were four of them. They rushed at me with their little swords. So I went\r
+for them with my ax, this way: 'What are you up to?' says I. 'Christ be\r
+with you!'" shouted Tikhon, waving his arms with an angry scowl and\r
+throwing out his chest.\r
+\r
+"Yes, we saw from the hill how you took to your heels through the\r
+puddles!" said the esaul, screwing up his glittering eyes.\r
+\r
+Petya badly wanted to laugh, but noticed that they all refrained from\r
+laughing. He turned his eyes rapidly from Tikhon's face to the esaul's\r
+and Denisov's, unable to make out what it all meant.\r
+\r
+"Don't play the fool!" said Denisov, coughing angrily. "Why didn't you\r
+bwing the first one?"\r
+\r
+Tikhon scratched his back with one hand and his head with the other,\r
+then suddenly his whole face expanded into a beaming, foolish grin,\r
+disclosing a gap where he had lost a tooth (that was why he was called\r
+Shcherbaty--the gap-toothed). Denisov smiled, and Petya burst into a\r
+peal of merry laughter in which Tikhon himself joined.\r
+\r
+"Oh, but he was a regular good-for-nothing," said Tikhon. "The clothes\r
+on him--poor stuff! How could I bring him? And so rude, your honor! Why,\r
+he says: 'I'm a general's son myself, I won't go!' he says."\r
+\r
+"You are a bwute!" said Denisov. "I wanted to question..."\r
+\r
+"But I questioned him," said Tikhon. "He said he didn't know much.\r
+'There are a lot of us,' he says, 'but all poor stuff--only soldiers in\r
+name,' he says. 'Shout loud at them,' he says, 'and you'll take them\r
+all,'" Tikhon concluded, looking cheerfully and resolutely into\r
+Denisov's eyes.\r
+\r
+"I'll give you a hundwed sharp lashes--that'll teach you to play the\r
+fool!" said Denisov severely.\r
+\r
+"But why are you angry?" remonstrated Tikhon, "just as if I'd never seen\r
+your Frenchmen! Only wait till it gets dark and I'll fetch you any of\r
+them you want--three if you like."\r
+\r
+"Well, let's go," said Denisov, and rode all the way to the watchhouse\r
+in silence and frowning angrily.\r
+\r
+Tikhon followed behind and Petya heard the Cossacks laughing with him\r
+and at him, about some pair of boots he had thrown into the bushes.\r
+\r
+When the fit of laughter that had seized him at Tikhon's words and smile\r
+had passed and Petya realized for a moment that this Tikhon had killed a\r
+man, he felt uneasy. He looked round at the captive drummer boy and felt\r
+a pang in his heart. But this uneasiness lasted only a moment. He felt\r
+it necessary to hold his head higher, to brace himself, and to question\r
+the esaul with an air of importance about tomorrow's undertaking, that\r
+he might not be unworthy of the company in which he found himself.\r
+\r
+The officer who had been sent to inquire met Denisov on the way with the\r
+news that Dolokhov was soon coming and that all was well with him.\r
+\r
+Denisov at once cheered up and, calling Petya to him, said: "Well, tell\r
+me about yourself."\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+Petya, having left his people after their departure from Moscow, joined\r
+his regiment and was soon taken as orderly by a general commanding a\r
+large guerrilla detachment. From the time he received his commission,\r
+and especially since he had joined the active army and taken part in the\r
+battle of Vyazma, Petya had been in a constant state of blissful\r
+excitement at being grown-up and in a perpetual ecstatic hurry not to\r
+miss any chance to do something really heroic. He was highly delighted\r
+with what he saw and experienced in the army, but at the same time it\r
+always seemed to him that the really heroic exploits were being\r
+performed just where he did not happen to be. And he was always in a\r
+hurry to get where he was not.\r
+\r
+When on the twenty-first of October his general expressed a wish to send\r
+somebody to Denisov's detachment, Petya begged so piteously to be sent\r
+that the general could not refuse. But when dispatching him he recalled\r
+Petya's mad action at the battle of Vyazma, where instead of riding by\r
+the road to the place to which he had been sent, he had galloped to the\r
+advanced line under the fire of the French and had there twice fired his\r
+pistol. So now the general explicitly forbade his taking part in any\r
+action whatever of Denisov's. That was why Petya had blushed and grown\r
+confused when Denisov asked him whether he could stay. Before they had\r
+ridden to the outskirts of the forest Petya had considered he must carry\r
+out his instructions strictly and return at once. But when he saw the\r
+French and saw Tikhon and learned that there would certainly be an\r
+attack that night, he decided, with the rapidity with which young people\r
+change their views, that the general, whom he had greatly respected till\r
+then, was a rubbishy German, that Denisov was a hero, the esaul a hero,\r
+and Tikhon a hero too, and that it would be shameful for him to leave\r
+them at a moment of difficulty.\r
+\r
+It was already growing dusk when Denisov, Petya, and the esaul rode up\r
+to the watchhouse. In the twilight saddled horses could be seen, and\r
+Cossacks and hussars who had rigged up rough shelters in the glade and\r
+were kindling glowing fires in a hollow of the forest where the French\r
+could not see the smoke. In the passage of the small watchhouse a\r
+Cossack with sleeves rolled up was chopping some mutton. In the room\r
+three officers of Denisov's band were converting a door into a tabletop.\r
+Petya took off his wet clothes, gave them to be dried, and at once began\r
+helping the officers to fix up the dinner table.\r
+\r
+In ten minutes the table was ready and a napkin spread on it. On the\r
+table were vodka, a flask of rum, white bread, roast mutton, and salt.\r
+\r
+Sitting at table with the officers and tearing the fat savory mutton\r
+with his hands, down which the grease trickled, Petya was in an ecstatic\r
+childish state of love for all men, and consequently of confidence that\r
+others loved him in the same way.\r
+\r
+"So then what do you think, Vasili Dmitrich?" said he to Denisov. "It's\r
+all right my staying a day with you?" And not waiting for a reply he\r
+answered his own question: "You see I was told to find out--well, I am\r
+finding out.... Only do let me into the very... into the chief... I\r
+don't want a reward... But I want..."\r
+\r
+Petya clenched his teeth and looked around, throwing back his head and\r
+flourishing his arms.\r
+\r
+"Into the vewy chief..." Denisov repeated with a smile.\r
+\r
+"Only, please let me command something, so that I may really command..."\r
+Petya went on. "What would it be to you?... Oh, you want a knife?" he\r
+said, turning to an officer who wished to cut himself a piece of mutton.\r
+\r
+And he handed him his clasp knife. The officer admired it.\r
+\r
+"Please keep it. I have several like it," said Petya, blushing.\r
+"Heavens! I was quite forgetting!" he suddenly cried. "I have some\r
+raisins, fine ones; you know, seedless ones. We have a new sutler and he\r
+has such capital things. I bought ten pounds. I am used to something\r
+sweet. Would you like some?..." and Petya ran out into the passage to\r
+his Cossack and brought back some bags which contained about five pounds\r
+of raisins. "Have some, gentlemen, have some!"\r
+\r
+"You want a coffeepot, don't you?" he asked the esaul. "I bought a\r
+capital one from our sutler! He has splendid things. And he's very\r
+honest, that's the chief thing. I'll be sure to send it to you. Or\r
+perhaps your flints are giving out, or are worn out--that happens\r
+sometimes, you know. I have brought some with me, here they are"--and he\r
+showed a bag--"a hundred flints. I bought them very cheap. Please take\r
+as many as you want, or all if you like...."\r
+\r
+Then suddenly, dismayed lest he had said too much, Petya stopped and\r
+blushed.\r
+\r
+He tried to remember whether he had not done anything else that was\r
+foolish. And running over the events of the day he remembered the French\r
+drummer boy. "It's capital for us here, but what of him? Where have they\r
+put him? Have they fed him? Haven't they hurt his feelings?" he thought.\r
+But having caught himself saying too much about the flints, he was now\r
+afraid to speak out.\r
+\r
+"I might ask," he thought, "but they'll say: 'He's a boy himself and so\r
+he pities the boy.' I'll show them tomorrow whether I'm a boy. Will it\r
+seem odd if I ask?" Petya thought. "Well, never mind!" and immediately,\r
+blushing and looking anxiously at the officers to see if they appeared\r
+ironical, he said:\r
+\r
+"May I call in that boy who was taken prisoner and give him something to\r
+eat?... Perhaps..."\r
+\r
+"Yes, he's a poor little fellow," said Denisov, who evidently saw\r
+nothing shameful in this reminder. "Call him in. His name is Vincent\r
+Bosse. Have him fetched."\r
+\r
+"I'll call him," said Petya.\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes, call him. A poor little fellow," Denisov repeated.\r
+\r
+Petya was standing at the door when Denisov said this. He slipped in\r
+between the officers, came close to Denisov, and said:\r
+\r
+"Let me kiss you, dear old fellow! Oh, how fine, how splendid!"\r
+\r
+And having kissed Denisov he ran out of the hut.\r
+\r
+"Bosse! Vincent!" Petya cried, stopping outside the door.\r
+\r
+"Who do you want, sir?" asked a voice in the darkness.\r
+\r
+Petya replied that he wanted the French lad who had been captured that\r
+day.\r
+\r
+"Ah, Vesenny?" said a Cossack.\r
+\r
+Vincent, the boy's name, had already been changed by the Cossacks into\r
+Vesenny (vernal) and into Vesenya by the peasants and soldiers. In both\r
+these adaptations the reference to spring (vesna) matched the impression\r
+made by the young lad.\r
+\r
+"He is warming himself there by the bonfire. Ho, Vesenya! Vesenya!--\r
+Vesenny!" laughing voices were heard calling to one another in the\r
+darkness.\r
+\r
+"He's a smart lad," said an hussar standing near Petya. "We gave him\r
+something to eat a while ago. He was awfully hungry!"\r
+\r
+The sound of bare feet splashing through the mud was heard in the\r
+darkness, and the drummer boy came to the door.\r
+\r
+"Ah, c'est vous!" said Petya. "Voulez-vous manger? N'ayez pas peur, on\r
+ne vous fera pas de mal," * he added shyly and affectionately, touching\r
+the boy's hand. "Entrez, entrez." *(2)\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Ah, it's you! Do you want something to eat? Don't be afraid, they\r
+won't hurt you."\r
+\r
+* (2) "Come in, come in."\r
+\r
+"Merci, monsieur," * said the drummer boy in a trembling almost childish\r
+voice, and he began scraping his dirty feet on the threshold.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Thank you, sir."\r
+\r
+There were many things Petya wanted to say to the drummer boy, but did\r
+not dare to. He stood irresolutely beside him in the passage. Then in\r
+the darkness he took the boy's hand and pressed it.\r
+\r
+"Come in, come in!" he repeated in a gentle whisper. "Oh, what can I do\r
+for him?" he thought, and opening the door he let the boy pass in first.\r
+\r
+When the boy had entered the hut, Petya sat down at a distance from him,\r
+considering it beneath his dignity to pay attention to him. But he\r
+fingered the money in his pocket and wondered whether it would seem\r
+ridiculous to give some to the drummer boy.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+The arrival of Dolokhov diverted Petya's attention from the drummer boy,\r
+to whom Denisov had had some mutton and vodka given, and whom he had had\r
+dressed in a Russian coat so that he might be kept with their band and\r
+not sent away with the other prisoners. Petya had heard in the army many\r
+stories of Dolokhov's extraordinary bravery and of his cruelty to the\r
+French, so from the moment he entered the hut Petya did not take his\r
+eyes from him, but braced himself up more and more and held his head\r
+high, that he might not be unworthy even of such company.\r
+\r
+Dolokhov's appearance amazed Petya by its simplicity.\r
+\r
+Denisov wore a Cossack coat, had a beard, had an icon of Nicholas the\r
+Wonder-Worker on his breast, and his way of speaking and everything he\r
+did indicated his unusual position. But Dolokhov, who in Moscow had worn\r
+a Persian costume, had now the appearance of a most correct officer of\r
+the Guards. He was clean-shaven and wore a Guardsman's padded coat with\r
+an Order of St. George at his buttonhole and a plain forage cap set\r
+straight on his head. He took off his wet felt cloak in a corner of the\r
+room, and without greeting anyone went up to Denisov and began\r
+questioning him about the matter in hand. Denisov told him of the\r
+designs the large detachments had on the transport, of the message Petya\r
+had brought, and his own replies to both generals. Then he told him all\r
+he knew of the French detachment.\r
+\r
+"That's so. But we must know what troops they are and their numbers,"\r
+said Dolokhov. "It will be necessary to go there. We can't start the\r
+affair without knowing for certain how many there are. I like to work\r
+accurately. Here now--wouldn't one of these gentlemen like to ride over\r
+to the French camp with me? I have brought a spare uniform."\r
+\r
+"I, I... I'll go with you!" cried Petya.\r
+\r
+"There's no need for you to go at all," said Denisov, addressing\r
+Dolokhov, "and as for him, I won't let him go on any account."\r
+\r
+"I like that!" exclaimed Petya. "Why shouldn't I go?"\r
+\r
+"Because it's useless."\r
+\r
+"Well, you must excuse me, because... because... I shall go, and that's\r
+all. You'll take me, won't you?" he said, turning to Dolokhov.\r
+\r
+"Why not?" Dolokhov answered absently, scrutinizing the face of the\r
+French drummer boy. "Have you had that youngster with you long?" he\r
+asked Denisov.\r
+\r
+"He was taken today but he knows nothing. I'm keeping him with me."\r
+\r
+"Yes, and where do you put the others?" inquired Dolokhov.\r
+\r
+"Where? I send them away and take a weceipt for them," shouted Denisov,\r
+suddenly flushing. "And I say boldly that I have not a single man's life\r
+on my conscience. Would it be difficult for you to send thirty or thwee\r
+hundwed men to town under escort, instead of staining--I speak bluntly--\r
+staining the honor of a soldier?"\r
+\r
+"That kind of amiable talk would be suitable from this young count of\r
+sixteen," said Dolokhov with cold irony, "but it's time for you to drop\r
+it."\r
+\r
+"Why, I've not said anything! I only say that I'll certainly go with\r
+you," said Petya shyly.\r
+\r
+"But for you and me, old fellow, it's time to drop these amenities,"\r
+continued Dolokhov, as if he found particular pleasure in speaking of\r
+this subject which irritated Denisov. "Now, why have you kept this lad?"\r
+he went on, swaying his head. "Because you are sorry for him! Don't we\r
+know those 'receipts' of yours? You send a hundred men away, and thirty\r
+get there. The rest either starve or get killed. So isn't it all the\r
+same not to send them?"\r
+\r
+The esaul, screwing up his light-colored eyes, nodded approvingly.\r
+\r
+"That's not the point. I'm not going to discuss the matter. I do not\r
+wish to take it on my conscience. You say they'll die. All wight. Only\r
+not by my fault!"\r
+\r
+Dolokhov began laughing.\r
+\r
+"Who has told them not to capture me these twenty times over? But if\r
+they did catch me they'd string me up to an aspen tree, and with all\r
+your chivalry just the same." He paused. "However, we must get to work.\r
+Tell the Cossack to fetch my kit. I have two French uniforms in it.\r
+Well, are you coming with me?" he asked Petya.\r
+\r
+"I? Yes, yes, certainly!" cried Petya, blushing almost to tears and\r
+glancing at Denisov.\r
+\r
+While Dolokhov had been disputing with Denisov what should be done with\r
+prisoners, Petya had once more felt awkward and restless; but again he\r
+had no time to grasp fully what they were talking about. "If grown-up,\r
+distinguished men think so, it must be necessary and right," thought he.\r
+"But above all Denisov must not dare to imagine that I'll obey him and\r
+that he can order me about. I will certainly go to the French camp with\r
+Dolokhov. If he can, so can I!"\r
+\r
+And to all Denisov's persuasions, Petya replied that he too was\r
+accustomed to do everything accurately and not just anyhow, and that he\r
+never considered personal danger.\r
+\r
+"For you'll admit that if we don't know for sure how many of them there\r
+are... hundreds of lives may depend on it, while there are only two of\r
+us. Besides, I want to go very much and certainly will go, so don't\r
+hinder me," said he. "It will only make things worse..."\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+Having put on French greatcoats and shakos, Petya and Dolokhov rode to\r
+the clearing from which Denisov had reconnoitered the French camp, and\r
+emerging from the forest in pitch darkness they descended into the\r
+hollow. On reaching the bottom, Dolokhov told the Cossacks accompanying\r
+him to await him there and rode on at a quick trot along the road to the\r
+bridge. Petya, his heart in his mouth with excitement, rode by his side.\r
+\r
+"If we're caught, I won't be taken alive! I have a pistol," whispered\r
+he.\r
+\r
+"Don't talk Russian," said Dolokhov in a hurried whisper, and at that\r
+very moment they heard through the darkness the challenge: "Qui vive?" *\r
+and the click of a musket.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Who goes there?"\r
+\r
+The blood rushed to Petya's face and he grasped his pistol.\r
+\r
+"Lanciers du 6-me," * replied Dolokhov, neither hastening nor slackening\r
+his horse's pace.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Lancers of the 6th Regiment."\r
+\r
+The black figure of a sentinel stood on the bridge.\r
+\r
+"Mot d'ordre." *\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Password."\r
+\r
+Dolokhov reined in his horse and advanced at a walk.\r
+\r
+"Dites donc, le colonel Gerard est ici?" * he asked.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Tell me, is Colonel Gerard here?"\r
+\r
+"Mot d'ordre," repeated the sentinel, barring the way and not replying.\r
+\r
+"Quand un officier fait sa ronde, les sentinelles ne demandent pas le\r
+mot d'ordre..." cried Dolokhov suddenly flaring up and riding straight\r
+at the sentinel. "Je vous demande si le colonel est ici." *\r
+\r
+\r
+* "When an officer is making his round, sentinels don't ask him for the\r
+password.... I am asking you if the colonel is here."\r
+\r
+And without waiting for an answer from the sentinel, who had stepped\r
+aside, Dolokhov rode up the incline at a walk.\r
+\r
+Noticing the black outline of a man crossing the road, Dolokhov stopped\r
+him and inquired where the commander and officers were. The man, a\r
+soldier with a sack over his shoulder, stopped, came close up to\r
+Dolokhov's horse, touched it with his hand, and explained simply and in\r
+a friendly way that the commander and the officers were higher up the\r
+hill to the right in the courtyard of the farm, as he called the\r
+landowner's house.\r
+\r
+Having ridden up the road, on both sides of which French talk could be\r
+heard around the campfires, Dolokhov turned into the courtyard of the\r
+landowner's house. Having ridden in, he dismounted and approached a big\r
+blazing campfire, around which sat several men talking noisily.\r
+Something was boiling in a small cauldron at the edge of the fire and a\r
+soldier in a peaked cap and blue overcoat, lit up by the fire, was\r
+kneeling beside it stirring its contents with a ramrod.\r
+\r
+"Oh, he's a hard nut to crack," said one of the officers who was sitting\r
+in the shadow at the other side of the fire.\r
+\r
+"He'll make them get a move on, those fellows!" said another, laughing.\r
+\r
+Both fell silent, peering out through the darkness at the sound of\r
+Dolokhov's and Petya's steps as they advanced to the fire leading their\r
+horses.\r
+\r
+"Bonjour, messieurs!" * said Dolokhov loudly and clearly.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Good day, gentlemen."\r
+\r
+There was a stir among the officers in the shadow beyond the fire, and\r
+one tall, long-necked officer, walking round the fire, came up to\r
+Dolokhov.\r
+\r
+"Is that you, Clement?" he asked. "Where the devil...?" But, noticing\r
+his mistake, he broke off short and, with a frown, greeted Dolokhov as a\r
+stranger, asking what he could do for him.\r
+\r
+Dolokhov said that he and his companion were trying to overtake their\r
+regiment, and addressing the company in general asked whether they knew\r
+anything of the 6th Regiment. None of them knew anything, and Petya\r
+thought the officers were beginning to look at him and Dolokhov with\r
+hostility and suspicion. For some seconds all were silent.\r
+\r
+"If you were counting on the evening soup, you have come too late," said\r
+a voice from behind the fire with a repressed laugh.\r
+\r
+Dolokhov replied that they were not hungry and must push on farther that\r
+night.\r
+\r
+He handed the horses over to the soldier who was stirring the pot and\r
+squatted down on his heels by the fire beside the officer with the long\r
+neck. That officer did not take his eyes from Dolokhov and again asked\r
+to what regiment he belonged. Dolokhov, as if he had not heard the\r
+question, did not reply, but lighting a short French pipe which he took\r
+from his pocket began asking the officer in how far the road before them\r
+was safe from Cossacks.\r
+\r
+"Those brigands are everywhere," replied an officer from behind the\r
+fire.\r
+\r
+Dolokhov remarked that the Cossacks were a danger only to stragglers\r
+such as his companion and himself, "but probably they would not dare to\r
+attack large detachments?" he added inquiringly. No one replied.\r
+\r
+"Well, now he'll come away," Petya thought every moment as he stood by\r
+the campfire listening to the talk.\r
+\r
+But Dolokhov restarted the conversation which had dropped and began\r
+putting direct questions as to how many men there were in the battalion,\r
+how many battalions, and how many prisoners. Asking about the Russian\r
+prisoners with that detachment, Dolokhov said:\r
+\r
+"A horrid business dragging these corpses about with one! It would be\r
+better to shoot such rabble," and burst into loud laughter, so strange\r
+that Petya thought the French would immediately detect their disguise,\r
+and involuntarily took a step back from the campfire.\r
+\r
+No one replied a word to Dolokhov's laughter, and a French officer whom\r
+they could not see (he lay wrapped in a greatcoat) rose and whispered\r
+something to a companion. Dolokhov got up and called to the soldier who\r
+was holding their horses.\r
+\r
+"Will they bring our horses or not?" thought Petya, instinctively\r
+drawing nearer to Dolokhov.\r
+\r
+The horses were brought.\r
+\r
+"Good evening, gentlemen," said Dolokhov.\r
+\r
+Petya wished to say "Good night" but could not utter a word. The\r
+officers were whispering together. Dolokhov was a long time mounting his\r
+horse which would not stand still, then he rode out of the yard at a\r
+footpace. Petya rode beside him, longing to look round to see whether or\r
+not the French were running after them, but not daring to.\r
+\r
+Coming out onto the road Dolokhov did not ride back across the open\r
+country, but through the village. At one spot he stopped and listened.\r
+"Do you hear?" he asked. Petya recognized the sound of Russian voices\r
+and saw the dark figures of Russian prisoners round their campfires.\r
+When they had descended to the bridge Petya and Dolokhov rode past the\r
+sentinel, who without saying a word paced morosely up and down it, then\r
+they descended into the hollow where the Cossacks awaited them.\r
+\r
+"Well now, good-by. Tell Denisov, 'at the first shot at daybreak,'" said\r
+Dolokhov and was about to ride away, but Petya seized hold of him.\r
+\r
+"Really!" he cried, "you are such a hero! Oh, how fine, how splendid!\r
+How I love you!"\r
+\r
+"All right, all right!" said Dolokhov. But Petya did not let go of him\r
+and Dolokhov saw through the gloom that Petya was bending toward him and\r
+wanted to kiss him. Dolokhov kissed him, laughed, turned his horse, and\r
+vanished into the darkness.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+Having returned to the watchman's hut, Petya found Denisov in the\r
+passage. He was awaiting Petya's return in a state of agitation,\r
+anxiety, and self-reproach for having let him go.\r
+\r
+"Thank God!" he exclaimed. "Yes, thank God!" he repeated, listening to\r
+Petya's rapturous account. "But, devil take you, I haven't slept because\r
+of you! Well, thank God. Now lie down. We can still get a nap before\r
+morning."\r
+\r
+"But... no," said Petya, "I don't want to sleep yet. Besides I know\r
+myself, if I fall asleep it's finished. And then I am used to not\r
+sleeping before a battle."\r
+\r
+He sat awhile in the hut joyfully recalling the details of his\r
+expedition and vividly picturing to himself what would happen next day.\r
+\r
+Then, noticing that Denisov was asleep, he rose and went out of doors.\r
+\r
+It was still quite dark outside. The rain was over, but drops were still\r
+falling from the trees. Near the watchman's hut the black shapes of the\r
+Cossacks' shanties and of horses tethered together could be seen. Behind\r
+the hut the dark shapes of the two wagons with their horses beside them\r
+were discernible, and in the hollow the dying campfire gleamed red. Not\r
+all the Cossacks and hussars were asleep; here and there, amid the\r
+sounds of falling drops and the munching of the horses near by, could be\r
+heard low voices which seemed to be whispering.\r
+\r
+Petya came out, peered into the darkness, and went up to the wagons.\r
+Someone was snoring under them, and around them stood saddled horses\r
+munching their oats. In the dark Petya recognized his own horse, which\r
+he called "Karabakh" though it was of Ukranian breed, and went up to it.\r
+\r
+"Well, Karabakh! We'll do some service tomorrow," said he, sniffing its\r
+nostrils and kissing it.\r
+\r
+"Why aren't you asleep, sir?" said a Cossack who was sitting under a\r
+wagon.\r
+\r
+"No, ah... Likhachev--isn't that your name? Do you know I have only just\r
+come back! We've been into the French camp."\r
+\r
+And Petya gave the Cossack a detailed account not only of his ride but\r
+also of his object, and why he considered it better to risk his life\r
+than to act "just anyhow."\r
+\r
+"Well, you should get some sleep now," said the Cossack.\r
+\r
+"No, I am used to this," said Petya. "I say, aren't the flints in your\r
+pistols worn out? I brought some with me. Don't you want any? You can\r
+have some."\r
+\r
+The Cossack bent forward from under the wagon to get a closer look at\r
+Petya.\r
+\r
+"Because I am accustomed to doing everything accurately," said Petya.\r
+"Some fellows do things just anyhow, without preparation, and then\r
+they're sorry for it afterwards. I don't like that."\r
+\r
+"Just so," said the Cossack.\r
+\r
+"Oh yes, another thing! Please, my dear fellow, will you sharpen my\r
+saber for me? It's got bl..." (Petya feared to tell a lie, and the saber\r
+never had been sharpened.) "Can you do it?"\r
+\r
+"Of course I can."\r
+\r
+Likhachev got up, rummaged in his pack, and soon Petya heard the warlike\r
+sound of steel on whetstone. He climbed onto the wagon and sat on its\r
+edge. The Cossack was sharpening the saber under the wagon.\r
+\r
+"I say! Are the lads asleep?" asked Petya.\r
+\r
+"Some are, and some aren't--like us."\r
+\r
+"Well, and that boy?"\r
+\r
+"Vesenny? Oh, he's thrown himself down there in the passage. Fast asleep\r
+after his fright. He was that glad!"\r
+\r
+After that Petya remained silent for a long time, listening to the\r
+sounds. He heard footsteps in the darkness and a black figure appeared.\r
+\r
+"What are you sharpening?" asked a man coming up to the wagon.\r
+\r
+"Why, this gentleman's saber."\r
+\r
+"That's right," said the man, whom Petya took to be an hussar. "Was the\r
+cup left here?"\r
+\r
+"There, by the wheel!"\r
+\r
+The hussar took the cup.\r
+\r
+"It must be daylight soon," said he, yawning, and went away.\r
+\r
+Petya ought to have known that he was in a forest with Denisov's\r
+guerrilla band, less than a mile from the road, sitting on a wagon\r
+captured from the French beside which horses were tethered, that under\r
+it Likhachev was sitting sharpening a saber for him, that the big dark\r
+blotch to the right was the watchman's hut, and the red blotch below to\r
+the left was the dying embers of a campfire, that the man who had come\r
+for the cup was an hussar who wanted a drink; but he neither knew nor\r
+waited to know anything of all this. He was in a fairy kingdom where\r
+nothing resembled reality. The big dark blotch might really be the\r
+watchman's hut or it might be a cavern leading to the very depths of the\r
+earth. Perhaps the red spot was a fire, or it might be the eye of an\r
+enormous monster. Perhaps he was really sitting on a wagon, but it might\r
+very well be that he was not sitting on a wagon but on a terribly high\r
+tower from which, if he fell, he would have to fall for a whole day or a\r
+whole month, or go on falling and never reach the bottom. Perhaps it was\r
+just the Cossack, Likhachev, who was sitting under the wagon, but it\r
+might be the kindest, bravest, most wonderful, most splendid man in the\r
+world, whom no one knew of. It might really have been that the hussar\r
+came for water and went back into the hollow, but perhaps he had simply\r
+vanished--disappeared altogether and dissolved into nothingness.\r
+\r
+Nothing Petya could have seen now would have surprised him. He was in a\r
+fairy kingdom where everything was possible.\r
+\r
+He looked up at the sky. And the sky was a fairy realm like the earth.\r
+It was clearing, and over the tops of the trees clouds were swiftly\r
+sailing as if unveiling the stars. Sometimes it looked as if the clouds\r
+were passing, and a clear black sky appeared. Sometimes it seemed as if\r
+the black spaces were clouds. Sometimes the sky seemed to be rising\r
+high, high overhead, and then it seemed to sink so low that one could\r
+touch it with one's hand.\r
+\r
+Petya's eyes began to close and he swayed a little.\r
+\r
+The trees were dripping. Quiet talking was heard. The horses neighed and\r
+jostled one another. Someone snored.\r
+\r
+"Ozheg-zheg, Ozheg-zheg..." hissed the saber against the whetstone, and\r
+suddenly Petya heard an harmonious orchestra playing some unknown,\r
+sweetly solemn hymn. Petya was as musical as Natasha and more so than\r
+Nicholas, but had never learned music or thought about it, and so the\r
+melody that unexpectedly came to his mind seemed to him particularly\r
+fresh and attractive. The music became more and more audible. The melody\r
+grew and passed from one instrument to another. And what was played was\r
+a fugue--though Petya had not the least conception of what a fugue is.\r
+Each instrument--now resembling a violin and now a horn, but better and\r
+clearer than violin or horn--played its own part, and before it had\r
+finished the melody merged with another instrument that began almost the\r
+same air, and then with a third and a fourth; and they all blended into\r
+one and again became separate and again blended, now into solemn church\r
+music, now into something dazzlingly brilliant and triumphant.\r
+\r
+"Oh--why, that was in a dream!" Petya said to himself, as he lurched\r
+forward. "It's in my ears. But perhaps it's music of my own. Well, go\r
+on, my music! Now!..."\r
+\r
+He closed his eyes, and, from all sides as if from a distance, sounds\r
+fluttered, grew into harmonies, separated, blended, and again all\r
+mingled into the same sweet and solemn hymn. "Oh, this is delightful! As\r
+much as I like and as I like!" said Petya to himself. He tried to\r
+conduct that enormous orchestra.\r
+\r
+"Now softly, softly die away!" and the sounds obeyed him. "Now fuller,\r
+more joyful. Still more and more joyful!" And from an unknown depth rose\r
+increasingly triumphant sounds. "Now voices join in!" ordered Petya. And\r
+at first from afar he heard men's voices and then women's. The voices\r
+grew in harmonious triumphant strength, and Petya listened to their\r
+surpassing beauty in awe and joy.\r
+\r
+With a solemn triumphal march there mingled a song, the drip from the\r
+trees, and the hissing of the saber, "Ozheg-zheg-zheg..." and again the\r
+horses jostled one another and neighed, not disturbing the choir but\r
+joining in it.\r
+\r
+Petya did not know how long this lasted: he enjoyed himself all the\r
+time, wondered at his enjoyment and regretted that there was no one to\r
+share it. He was awakened by Likhachev's kindly voice.\r
+\r
+"It's ready, your honor; you can split a Frenchman in half with it!"\r
+\r
+Petya woke up.\r
+\r
+"It's getting light, it's really getting light!" he exclaimed.\r
+\r
+The horses that had previously been invisible could now be seen to their\r
+very tails, and a watery light showed itself through the bare branches.\r
+Petya shook himself, jumped up, took a ruble from his pocket and gave it\r
+to Likhachev; then he flourished the saber, tested it, and sheathed it.\r
+The Cossacks were untying their horses and tightening their saddle\r
+girths.\r
+\r
+"And here's the commander," said Likhachev.\r
+\r
+Denisov came out of the watchman's hut and, having called Petya, gave\r
+orders to get ready.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+The men rapidly picked out their horses in the semidarkness, tightened\r
+their saddle girths, and formed companies. Denisov stood by the\r
+watchman's hut giving final orders. The infantry of the detachment\r
+passed along the road and quickly disappeared amid the trees in the mist\r
+of early dawn, hundreds of feet splashing through the mud. The esaul\r
+gave some orders to his men. Petya held his horse by the bridle,\r
+impatiently awaiting the order to mount. His face, having been bathed in\r
+cold water, was all aglow, and his eyes were particularly brilliant.\r
+Cold shivers ran down his spine and his whole body pulsed rhythmically.\r
+\r
+"Well, is ev'wything weady?" asked Denisov. "Bwing the horses."\r
+\r
+The horses were brought. Denisov was angry with the Cossack because the\r
+saddle girths were too slack, reproved him, and mounted. Petya put his\r
+foot in the stirrup. His horse by habit made as if to nip his leg, but\r
+Petya leaped quickly into the saddle unconscious of his own weight and,\r
+turning to look at the hussars starting in the darkness behind him, rode\r
+up to Denisov.\r
+\r
+"Vasili Dmitrich, entrust me with some commission! Please... for God's\r
+sake...!" said he.\r
+\r
+Denisov seemed to have forgotten Petya's very existence. He turned to\r
+glance at him.\r
+\r
+"I ask one thing of you," he said sternly, "to obey me and not shove\r
+yourself forward anywhere."\r
+\r
+He did not say another word to Petya but rode in silence all the way.\r
+When they had come to the edge of the forest it was noticeably growing\r
+light over the field. Denisov talked in whispers with the esaul and the\r
+Cossacks rode past Petya and Denisov. When they had all ridden by,\r
+Denisov touched his horse and rode down the hill. Slipping onto their\r
+haunches and sliding, the horses descended with their riders into the\r
+ravine. Petya rode beside Denisov, the pulsation of his body constantly\r
+increasing. It was getting lighter and lighter, but the mist still hid\r
+distant objects. Having reached the valley, Denisov looked back and\r
+nodded to a Cossack beside him.\r
+\r
+"The signal!" said he.\r
+\r
+The Cossack raised his arm and a shot rang out. In an instant the tramp\r
+of horses galloping forward was heard, shouts came from various sides,\r
+and then more shots.\r
+\r
+At the first sound of trampling hoofs and shouting, Petya lashed his\r
+horse and loosening his rein galloped forward, not heeding Denisov who\r
+shouted at him. It seemed to Petya that at the moment the shot was fired\r
+it suddenly became as bright as noon. He galloped to the bridge.\r
+Cossacks were galloping along the road in front of him. On the bridge he\r
+collided with a Cossack who had fallen behind, but he galloped on. In\r
+front of him soldiers, probably Frenchmen, were running from right to\r
+left across the road. One of them fell in the mud under his horse's\r
+feet.\r
+\r
+Cossacks were crowding about a hut, busy with something. From the midst\r
+of that crowd terrible screams arose. Petya galloped up, and the first\r
+thing he saw was the pale face and trembling jaw of a Frenchman,\r
+clutching the handle of a lance that had been aimed at him.\r
+\r
+"Hurrah!... Lads!... ours!" shouted Petya, and giving rein to his\r
+excited horse he galloped forward along the village street.\r
+\r
+He could hear shooting ahead of him. Cossacks, hussars, and ragged\r
+Russian prisoners, who had come running from both sides of the road,\r
+were shouting something loudly and incoherently. A gallant-looking\r
+Frenchman, in a blue overcoat, capless, and with a frowning red face,\r
+had been defending himself against the hussars. When Petya galloped up\r
+the Frenchman had already fallen. "Too late again!" flashed through\r
+Petya's mind and he galloped on to the place from which the rapid firing\r
+could be heard. The shots came from the yard of the landowner's house he\r
+had visited the night before with Dolokhov. The French were making a\r
+stand there behind a wattle fence in a garden thickly overgrown with\r
+bushes and were firing at the Cossacks who crowded at the gateway.\r
+Through the smoke, as he approached the gate, Petya saw Dolokhov, whose\r
+face was of a pale-greenish tint, shouting to his men. "Go round! Wait\r
+for the infantry!" he exclaimed as Petya rode up to him.\r
+\r
+"Wait?... Hurrah-ah-ah!" shouted Petya, and without pausing a moment\r
+galloped to the place whence came the sounds of firing and where the\r
+smoke was thickest.\r
+\r
+A volley was heard, and some bullets whistled past, while others plashed\r
+against something. The Cossacks and Dolokhov galloped after Petya into\r
+the gateway of the courtyard. In the dense wavering smoke some of the\r
+French threw down their arms and ran out of the bushes to meet the\r
+Cossacks, while others ran down the hill toward the pond. Petya was\r
+galloping along the courtyard, but instead of holding the reins he waved\r
+both his arms about rapidly and strangely, slipping farther and farther\r
+to one side in his saddle. His horse, having galloped up to a campfire\r
+that was smoldering in the morning light, stopped suddenly, and Petya\r
+fell heavily on to the wet ground. The Cossacks saw that his arms and\r
+legs jerked rapidly though his head was quite motionless. A bullet had\r
+pierced his skull.\r
+\r
+After speaking to the senior French officer, who came out of the house\r
+with a white handkerchief tied to his sword and announced that they\r
+surrendered, Dolokhov dismounted and went up to Petya, who lay\r
+motionless with outstretched arms.\r
+\r
+"Done for!" he said with a frown, and went to the gate to meet Denisov\r
+who was riding toward him.\r
+\r
+"Killed?" cried Denisov, recognizing from a distance the unmistakably\r
+lifeless attitude--very familiar to him--in which Petya's body was\r
+lying.\r
+\r
+"Done for!" repeated Dolokhov as if the utterance of these words\r
+afforded him pleasure, and he went quickly up to the prisoners, who were\r
+surrounded by Cossacks who had hurried up. "We won't take them!" he\r
+called out to Denisov.\r
+\r
+Denisov did not reply; he rode up to Petya, dismounted, and with\r
+trembling hands turned toward himself the bloodstained, mud-bespattered\r
+face which had already gone white.\r
+\r
+"I am used to something sweet. Raisins, fine ones... take them all!" he\r
+recalled Petya's words. And the Cossacks looked round in surprise at the\r
+sound, like the yelp of a dog, with which Denisov turned away, walked to\r
+the wattle fence, and seized hold of it.\r
+\r
+Among the Russian prisoners rescued by Denisov and Dolokhov was Pierre\r
+Bezukhov.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+During the whole of their march from Moscow no fresh orders had been\r
+issued by the French authorities concerning the party of prisoners among\r
+whom was Pierre. On the twenty-second of October that party was no\r
+longer with the same troops and baggage trains with which it had left\r
+Moscow. Half the wagons laden with hardtack that had traveled the first\r
+stages with them had been captured by Cossacks, the other half had gone\r
+on ahead. Not one of those dismounted cavalrymen who had marched in\r
+front of the prisoners was left; they had all disappeared. The artillery\r
+the prisoners had seen in front of them during the first days was now\r
+replaced by Marshal Junot's enormous baggage train, convoyed by\r
+Westphalians. Behind the prisoners came a cavalry baggage train.\r
+\r
+From Vyazma onwards the French army, which had till then moved in three\r
+columns, went on as a single group. The symptoms of disorder that Pierre\r
+had noticed at their first halting place after leaving Moscow had now\r
+reached the utmost limit.\r
+\r
+The road along which they moved was bordered on both sides by dead\r
+horses; ragged men who had fallen behind from various regiments\r
+continually changed about, now joining the moving column, now again\r
+lagging behind it.\r
+\r
+Several times during the march false alarms had been given and the\r
+soldiers of the escort had raised their muskets, fired, and run\r
+headlong, crushing one another, but had afterwards reassembled and\r
+abused each other for their causeless panic.\r
+\r
+These three groups traveling together--the cavalry stores, the convoy of\r
+prisoners, and Junot's baggage train--still constituted a separate and\r
+united whole, though each of the groups was rapidly melting away.\r
+\r
+Of the artillery baggage train which had consisted of a hundred and\r
+twenty wagons, not more than sixty now remained; the rest had been\r
+captured or left behind. Some of Junot's wagons also had been captured\r
+or abandoned. Three wagons had been raided and robbed by stragglers from\r
+Davout's corps. From the talk of the Germans Pierre learned that a\r
+larger guard had been allotted to that baggage train than to the\r
+prisoners, and that one of their comrades, a German soldier, had been\r
+shot by the marshal's own order because a silver spoon belonging to the\r
+marshal had been found in his possession.\r
+\r
+The group of prisoners had melted away most of all. Of the three hundred\r
+and thirty men who had set out from Moscow fewer than a hundred now\r
+remained. The prisoners were more burdensome to the escort than even the\r
+cavalry saddles or Junot's baggage. They understood that the saddles and\r
+Junot's spoon might be of some use, but that cold and hungry soldiers\r
+should have to stand and guard equally cold and hungry Russians who\r
+froze and lagged behind on the road (in which case the order was to\r
+shoot them) was not merely incomprehensible but revolting. And the\r
+escort, as if afraid, in the grievous condition they themselves were in,\r
+of giving way to the pity they felt for the prisoners and so rendering\r
+their own plight still worse, treated them with particular moroseness\r
+and severity.\r
+\r
+At Dorogobuzh while the soldiers of the convoy, after locking the\r
+prisoners in a stable, had gone off to pillage their own stores, several\r
+of the soldier prisoners tunneled under the wall and ran away, but were\r
+recaptured by the French and shot.\r
+\r
+The arrangement adopted when they started, that the officer prisoners\r
+should be kept separate from the rest, had long since been abandoned.\r
+All who could walk went together, and after the third stage Pierre had\r
+rejoined Karataev and the gray-blue bandy-legged dog that had chosen\r
+Karataev for its master.\r
+\r
+On the third day after leaving Moscow Karataev again fell ill with the\r
+fever he had suffered from in the hospital in Moscow, and as he grew\r
+gradually weaker Pierre kept away from him. Pierre did not know why, but\r
+since Karataev had begun to grow weaker it had cost him an effort to go\r
+near him. When he did so and heard the subdued moaning with which\r
+Karataev generally lay down at the halting places, and when he smelled\r
+the odor emanating from him which was now stronger than before, Pierre\r
+moved farther away and did not think about him.\r
+\r
+While imprisoned in the shed Pierre had learned not with his intellect\r
+but with his whole being, by life itself, that man is created for\r
+happiness, that happiness is within him, in the satisfaction of simple\r
+human needs, and that all unhappiness arises not from privation but from\r
+superfluity. And now during these last three weeks of the march he had\r
+learned still another new, consolatory truth--that nothing in this world\r
+is terrible. He had learned that as there is no condition in which man\r
+can be happy and entirely free, so there is no condition in which he\r
+need be unhappy and lack freedom. He learned that suffering and freedom\r
+have their limits and that those limits are very near together; that the\r
+person in a bed of roses with one crumpled petal suffered as keenly as\r
+he now, sleeping on the bare damp earth with one side growing chilled\r
+while the other was warming; and that when he had put on tight dancing\r
+shoes he had suffered just as he did now when he walked with bare feet\r
+that were covered with sores--his footgear having long since fallen to\r
+pieces. He discovered that when he had married his wife--of his own free\r
+will as it had seemed to him--he had been no more free than now when\r
+they locked him up at night in a stable. Of all that he himself\r
+subsequently termed his sufferings, but which at the time he scarcely\r
+felt, the worst was the state of his bare, raw, and scab-covered feet.\r
+(The horseflesh was appetizing and nourishing, the saltpeter flavor of\r
+the gunpowder they used instead of salt was even pleasant; there was no\r
+great cold, it was always warm walking in the daytime, and at night\r
+there were the campfires; the lice that devoured him warmed his body.)\r
+The one thing that was at first hard to bear was his feet.\r
+\r
+After the second day's march Pierre, having examined his feet by the\r
+campfire, thought it would be impossible to walk on them; but when\r
+everybody got up he went along, limping, and, when he had warmed up,\r
+walked without feeling the pain, though at night his feet were more\r
+terrible to look at than before. However, he did not look at them now,\r
+but thought of other things.\r
+\r
+Only now did Pierre realize the full strength of life in man and the\r
+saving power he has of transferring his attention from one thing to\r
+another, which is like the safety valve of a boiler that allows\r
+superfluous steam to blow off when the pressure exceeds a certain limit.\r
+\r
+He did not see and did not hear how they shot the prisoners who lagged\r
+behind, though more than a hundred perished in that way. He did not\r
+think of Karataev who grew weaker every day and evidently would soon\r
+have to share that fate. Still less did Pierre think about himself. The\r
+harder his position became and the more terrible the future, the more\r
+independent of that position in which he found himself were the joyful\r
+and comforting thoughts, memories, and imaginings that came to him.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIII\r
+\r
+At midday on the twenty-second of October Pierre was going uphill along\r
+the muddy, slippery road, looking at his feet and at the roughness of\r
+the way. Occasionally he glanced at the familiar crowd around him and\r
+then again at his feet. The former and the latter were alike familiar\r
+and his own. The blue-gray bandy legged dog ran merrily along the side\r
+of the road, sometimes in proof of its agility and self-satisfaction\r
+lifting one hind leg and hopping along on three, and then again going on\r
+all four and rushing to bark at the crows that sat on the carrion. The\r
+dog was merrier and sleeker than it had been in Moscow. All around lay\r
+the flesh of different animals--from men to horses--in various stages of\r
+decomposition; and as the wolves were kept off by the passing men the\r
+dog could eat all it wanted.\r
+\r
+It had been raining since morning and had seemed as if at any moment it\r
+might cease and the sky clear, but after a short break it began raining\r
+harder than before. The saturated road no longer absorbed the water,\r
+which ran along the ruts in streams.\r
+\r
+Pierre walked along, looking from side to side, counting his steps in\r
+threes, and reckoning them off on his fingers. Mentally addressing the\r
+rain, he repeated: "Now then, now then, go on! Pelt harder!"\r
+\r
+It seemed to him that he was thinking of nothing, but far down and deep\r
+within him his soul was occupied with something important and\r
+comforting. This something was a most subtle spiritual deduction from a\r
+conversation with Karataev the day before.\r
+\r
+At their yesterday's halting place, feeling chilly by a dying campfire,\r
+Pierre had got up and gone to the next one, which was burning better.\r
+There Platon Karataev was sitting covered up--head and all--with his\r
+greatcoat as if it were a vestment, telling the soldiers in his\r
+effective and pleasant though now feeble voice a story Pierre knew. It\r
+was already past midnight, the hour when Karataev was usually free of\r
+his fever and particularly lively. When Pierre reached the fire and\r
+heard Platon's voice enfeebled by illness, and saw his pathetic face\r
+brightly lit up by the blaze, he felt a painful prick at his heart. His\r
+feeling of pity for this man frightened him and he wished to go away,\r
+but there was no other fire, and Pierre sat down, trying not to look at\r
+Platon.\r
+\r
+"Well, how are you?" he asked.\r
+\r
+"How am I? If we grumble at sickness, God won't grant us death," replied\r
+Platon, and at once resumed the story he had begun.\r
+\r
+"And so, brother," he continued, with a smile on his pale emaciated face\r
+and a particularly happy light in his eyes, "you see, brother..."\r
+\r
+Pierre had long been familiar with that story. Karataev had told it to\r
+him alone some half-dozen times and always with a specially joyful\r
+emotion. But well as he knew it, Pierre now listened to that tale as to\r
+something new, and the quiet rapture Karataev evidently felt as he told\r
+it communicated itself also to Pierre. The story was of an old merchant\r
+who lived a good and God-fearing life with his family, and who went once\r
+to the Nizhni fair with a companion--a rich merchant.\r
+\r
+Having put up at an inn they both went to sleep, and next morning his\r
+companion was found robbed and with his throat cut. A bloodstained knife\r
+was found under the old merchant's pillow. He was tried, knouted, and\r
+his nostrils having been torn off, "all in due form" as Karataev put it,\r
+he was sent to hard labor in Siberia.\r
+\r
+"And so, brother" (it was at this point that Pierre came up), "ten years\r
+or more passed by. The old man was living as a convict, submitting as he\r
+should and doing no wrong. Only he prayed to God for death. Well, one\r
+night the convicts were gathered just as we are, with the old man among\r
+them. And they began telling what each was suffering for, and how they\r
+had sinned against God. One told how he had taken a life, another had\r
+taken two, a third had set a house on fire, while another had simply\r
+been a vagrant and had done nothing. So they asked the old man: 'What\r
+are you being punished for, Daddy?'--'I, my dear brothers,' said he, 'am\r
+being punished for my own and other men's sins. But I have not killed\r
+anyone or taken anything that was not mine, but have only helped my\r
+poorer brothers. I was a merchant, my dear brothers, and had much\r
+property. 'And he went on to tell them all about it in due order. 'I\r
+don't grieve for myself,' he says, 'God, it seems, has chastened me.\r
+Only I am sorry for my old wife and the children,' and the old man began\r
+to weep. Now it happened that in the group was the very man who had\r
+killed the other merchant. 'Where did it happen, Daddy?' he said. 'When,\r
+and in what month?' He asked all about it and his heart began to ache.\r
+So he comes up to the old man like this, and falls down at his feet!\r
+'You are perishing because of me, Daddy,' he says. 'It's quite true,\r
+lads, that this man,' he says, 'is being tortured innocently and for\r
+nothing! I,' he says, 'did that deed, and I put the knife under your\r
+head while you were asleep. Forgive me, Daddy,' he says, 'for Christ's\r
+sake!'"\r
+\r
+Karataev paused, smiling joyously as he gazed into the fire, and he drew\r
+the logs together.\r
+\r
+"And the old man said, 'God will forgive you, we are all sinners in His\r
+sight. I suffer for my own sins,' and he wept bitter tears. Well, and\r
+what do you think, dear friends?" Karataev continued, his face\r
+brightening more and more with a rapturous smile as if what he now had\r
+to tell contained the chief charm and the whole meaning of his story:\r
+"What do you think, dear fellows? That murderer confessed to the\r
+authorities. 'I have taken six lives,' he says (he was a great sinner),\r
+'but what I am most sorry for is this old man. Don't let him suffer\r
+because of me.' So he confessed and it was all written down and the\r
+papers sent off in due form. The place was a long way off, and while\r
+they were judging, what with one thing and another, filling in the\r
+papers all in due form--the authorities I mean--time passed. The affair\r
+reached the Tsar. After a while the Tsar's decree came: to set the\r
+merchant free and give him a compensation that had been awarded. The\r
+paper arrived and they began to look for the old man. 'Where is the old\r
+man who has been suffering innocently and in vain? A paper has come from\r
+the Tsar!' so they began looking for him," here Karataev's lower jaw\r
+trembled, "but God had already forgiven him--he was dead! That's how it\r
+was, dear fellows!" Karataev concluded and sat for a long time silent,\r
+gazing before him with a smile.\r
+\r
+And Pierre's soul was dimly but joyfully filled not by the story itself\r
+but by its mysterious significance: by the rapturous joy that lit up\r
+Karataev's face as he told it, and the mystic significance of that joy.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIV\r
+\r
+"A vos places!" * suddenly cried a voice.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "To your places."\r
+\r
+A pleasant feeling of excitement and an expectation of something joyful\r
+and solemn was aroused among the soldiers of the convoy and the\r
+prisoners. From all sides came shouts of command, and from the left came\r
+smartly dressed cavalrymen on good horses, passing the prisoners at a\r
+trot. The expression on all faces showed the tension people feel at the\r
+approach of those in authority. The prisoners thronged together and were\r
+pushed off the road. The convoy formed up.\r
+\r
+"The Emperor! The Emperor! The Marshal! The Duke!" and hardly had the\r
+sleek cavalry passed, before a carriage drawn by six gray horses rattled\r
+by. Pierre caught a glimpse of a man in a three-cornered hat with a\r
+tranquil look on his handsome, plump, white face. It was one of the\r
+marshals. His eye fell on Pierre's large and striking figure, and in the\r
+expression with which he frowned and looked away Pierre thought he\r
+detected sympathy and a desire to conceal that sympathy.\r
+\r
+The general in charge of the stores galloped after the carriage with a\r
+red and frightened face, whipping up his skinny horse. Several officers\r
+formed a group and some soldiers crowded round them. Their faces all\r
+looked excited and worried.\r
+\r
+"What did he say? What did he say?" Pierre heard them ask.\r
+\r
+While the marshal was passing, the prisoners had huddled together in a\r
+crowd, and Pierre saw Karataev whom he had not yet seen that morning. He\r
+sat in his short overcoat leaning against a birch tree. On his face,\r
+besides the look of joyful emotion it had worn yesterday while telling\r
+the tale of the merchant who suffered innocently, there was now an\r
+expression of quiet solemnity.\r
+\r
+Karataev looked at Pierre with his kindly round eyes now filled with\r
+tears, evidently wishing him to come near that he might say something to\r
+him. But Pierre was not sufficiently sure of himself. He made as if he\r
+did not notice that look and moved hastily away.\r
+\r
+When the prisoners again went forward Pierre looked round. Karataev was\r
+still sitting at the side of the road under the birch tree and two\r
+Frenchmen were talking over his head. Pierre did not look round again\r
+but went limping up the hill.\r
+\r
+From behind, where Karataev had been sitting, came the sound of a shot.\r
+Pierre heard it plainly, but at that moment he remembered that he had\r
+not yet finished reckoning up how many stages still remained to\r
+Smolensk--a calculation he had begun before the marshal went by. And he\r
+again started reckoning. Two French soldiers ran past Pierre, one of\r
+whom carried a lowered and smoking gun. They both looked pale, and in\r
+the expression on their faces--one of them glanced timidly at Pierre--\r
+there was something resembling what he had seen on the face of the young\r
+soldier at the execution. Pierre looked at the soldier and remembered\r
+that, two days before, that man had burned his shirt while drying it at\r
+the fire and how they had laughed at him.\r
+\r
+Behind him, where Karataev had been sitting, the dog began to howl.\r
+"What a stupid beast! Why is it howling?" thought Pierre.\r
+\r
+His comrades, the prisoner soldiers walking beside him, avoided looking\r
+back at the place where the shot had been fired and the dog was howling,\r
+just as Pierre did, but there was a set look on all their faces.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XV\r
+\r
+The stores, the prisoners, and the marshal's baggage train stopped at\r
+the village of Shamshevo. The men crowded together round the campfires.\r
+Pierre went up to the fire, ate some roast horseflesh, lay down with his\r
+back to the fire, and immediately fell asleep. He again slept as he had\r
+done at Mozhaysk after the battle of Borodino.\r
+\r
+Again real events mingled with dreams and again someone, he or another,\r
+gave expression to his thoughts, and even to the same thoughts that had\r
+been expressed in his dream at Mozhaysk.\r
+\r
+"Life is everything. Life is God. Everything changes and moves and that\r
+movement is God. And while there is life there is joy in consciousness\r
+of the divine. To love life is to love God. Harder and more blessed than\r
+all else is to love this life in one's sufferings, in innocent\r
+sufferings."\r
+\r
+"Karataev!" came to Pierre's mind.\r
+\r
+And suddenly he saw vividly before him a long-forgotten, kindly old man\r
+who had given him geography lessons in Switzerland. "Wait a bit," said\r
+the old man, and showed Pierre a globe. This globe was alive--a\r
+vibrating ball without fixed dimensions. Its whole surface consisted of\r
+drops closely pressed together, and all these drops moved and changed\r
+places, sometimes several of them merging into one, sometimes one\r
+dividing into many. Each drop tried to spread out and occupy as much\r
+space as possible, but others striving to do the same compressed it,\r
+sometimes destroyed it, and sometimes merged with it.\r
+\r
+"That is life," said the old teacher.\r
+\r
+"How simple and clear it is," thought Pierre. "How is it I did not know\r
+it before?"\r
+\r
+"God is in the midst, and each drop tries to expand so as to reflect Him\r
+to the greatest extent. And it grows, merges, disappears from the\r
+surface, sinks to the depths, and again emerges. There now, Karataev has\r
+spread out and disappeared. Do you understand, my child?" said the\r
+teacher.\r
+\r
+"Do you understand, damn you?" shouted a voice, and Pierre woke up.\r
+\r
+He lifted himself and sat up. A Frenchman who had just pushed a Russian\r
+soldier away was squatting by the fire, engaged in roasting a piece of\r
+meat stuck on a ramrod. His sleeves were rolled up and his sinewy,\r
+hairy, red hands with their short fingers deftly turned the ramrod. His\r
+brown morose face with frowning brows was clearly visible by the glow of\r
+the charcoal.\r
+\r
+"It's all the same to him," he muttered, turning quickly to a soldier\r
+who stood behind him. "Brigand! Get away!"\r
+\r
+And twisting the ramrod he looked gloomily at Pierre, who turned away\r
+and gazed into the darkness. A prisoner, the Russian soldier the\r
+Frenchman had pushed away, was sitting near the fire patting something\r
+with his hand. Looking more closely Pierre recognized the blue-gray dog,\r
+sitting beside the soldier, wagging its tail.\r
+\r
+"Ah, he's come?" said Pierre. "And Plat-" he began, but did not finish.\r
+\r
+Suddenly and simultaneously a crowd of memories awoke in his fancy--of\r
+the look Platon had given him as he sat under the tree, of the shot\r
+heard from that spot, of the dog's howl, of the guilty faces of the two\r
+Frenchmen as they ran past him, of the lowered and smoking gun, and of\r
+Karataev's absence at this halt--and he was on the point of realizing\r
+that Karataev had been killed, but just at that instant, he knew not\r
+why, the recollection came to his mind of a summer evening he had spent\r
+with a beautiful Polish lady on the veranda of his house in Kiev. And\r
+without linking up the events of the day or drawing a conclusion from\r
+them, Pierre closed his eyes, seeing a vision of the country in\r
+summertime mingled with memories of bathing and of the liquid, vibrating\r
+globe, and he sank into water so that it closed over his head.\r
+\r
+Before sunrise he was awakened by shouts and loud and rapid firing.\r
+French soldiers were running past him.\r
+\r
+"The Cossacks!" one of them shouted, and a moment later a crowd of\r
+Russians surrounded Pierre.\r
+\r
+For a long time he could not understand what was happening to him. All\r
+around he heard his comrades sobbing with joy.\r
+\r
+"Brothers! Dear fellows! Darlings!" old soldiers exclaimed, weeping, as\r
+they embraced Cossacks and hussars.\r
+\r
+The hussars and Cossacks crowded round the prisoners; one offered them\r
+clothes, another boots, and a third bread. Pierre sobbed as he sat among\r
+them and could not utter a word. He hugged the first soldier who\r
+approached him, and kissed him, weeping.\r
+\r
+Dolokhov stood at the gate of the ruined house, letting a crowd of\r
+disarmed Frenchmen pass by. The French, excited by all that had\r
+happened, were talking loudly among themselves, but as they passed\r
+Dolokhov who gently switched his boots with his whip and watched them\r
+with cold glassy eyes that boded no good, they became silent. On the\r
+opposite side stood Dolokhov's Cossack, counting the prisoners and\r
+marking off each hundred with a chalk line on the gate.\r
+\r
+"How many?" Dolokhov asked the Cossack.\r
+\r
+"The second hundred," replied the Cossack.\r
+\r
+"Filez, filez!" * Dolokhov kept saying, having adopted this expression\r
+from the French, and when his eyes met those of the prisoners they\r
+flashed with a cruel light.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Get along, get along!"\r
+\r
+Denisov, bareheaded and with a gloomy face, walked behind some Cossacks\r
+who were carrying the body of Petya Rostov to a hole that had been dug\r
+in the garden.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVI\r
+\r
+After the twenty-eighth of October when the frosts began, the flight of\r
+the French assumed a still more tragic character, with men freezing, or\r
+roasting themselves to death at the campfires, while carriages with\r
+people dressed in furs continued to drive past, carrying away the\r
+property that had been stolen by the Emperor, kings, and dukes; but the\r
+process of the flight and disintegration of the French army went on\r
+essentially as before.\r
+\r
+From Moscow to Vyazma the French army of seventy-three thousand men not\r
+reckoning the Guards (who did nothing during the whole war but pillage)\r
+was reduced to thirty-six thousand, though not more than five thousand\r
+had fallen in battle. From this beginning the succeeding terms of the\r
+progression could be determined mathematically. The French army melted\r
+away and perished at the same rate from Moscow to Vyazma, from Vyazma to\r
+Smolensk, from Smolensk to the Berezina, and from the Berezina to Vilna-\r
+-independently of the greater or lesser intensity of the cold, the\r
+pursuit, the barring of the way, or any other particular conditions.\r
+Beyond Vyazma the French army instead of moving in three columns huddled\r
+together into one mass, and so went on to the end. Berthier wrote to his\r
+Emperor (we know how far commanding officers allow themselves to diverge\r
+from the truth in describing the condition of an army) and this is what\r
+he said:\r
+\r
+I deem it my duty to report to Your Majesty the condition of the various\r
+corps I have had occasion to observe during different stages of the last\r
+two or three days' march. They are almost disbanded. Scarcely a quarter\r
+of the soldiers remain with the standards of their regiments, the others\r
+go off by themselves in different directions hoping to find food and\r
+escape discipline. In general they regard Smolensk as the place where\r
+they hope to recover. During the last few days many of the men have been\r
+seen to throw away their cartridges and their arms. In such a state of\r
+affairs, whatever your ultimate plans may be, the interest of Your\r
+Majesty's service demands that the army should be rallied at Smolensk\r
+and should first of all be freed from ineffectives, such as dismounted\r
+cavalry, unnecessary baggage, and artillery material that is no longer\r
+in proportion to the present forces. The soldiers, who are worn out with\r
+hunger and fatigue, need these supplies as well as a few days' rest.\r
+Many have died these last days on the road or at the bivouacs. This\r
+state of things is continually becoming worse and makes one fear that\r
+unless a prompt remedy is applied the troops will no longer be under\r
+control in case of an engagement.\r
+\r
+November 9: twenty miles from Smolensk.\r
+\r
+After staggering into Smolensk which seemed to them a promised land, the\r
+French, searching for food, killed one another, sacked their own stores,\r
+and when everything had been plundered fled farther.\r
+\r
+They all went without knowing whither or why they were going. Still less\r
+did that genius, Napoleon, know it, for no one issued any orders to him.\r
+But still he and those about him retained their old habits: wrote\r
+commands, letters, reports, and orders of the day; called one another\r
+sire, mon cousin, prince d'Eckmuhl, roi de Naples, and so on. But these\r
+orders and reports were only on paper, nothing in them was acted upon\r
+for they could not be carried out, and though they entitled one another\r
+Majesties, Highnesses, or Cousins, they all felt that they were\r
+miserable wretches who had done much evil for which they had now to pay.\r
+And though they pretended to be concerned about the army, each was\r
+thinking only of himself and of how to get away quickly and save\r
+himself.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVII\r
+\r
+The movements of the Russian and French armies during the campaign from\r
+Moscow back to the Niemen were like those in a game of Russian\r
+blindman's bluff, in which two players are blindfolded and one of them\r
+occasionally rings a little bell to inform the catcher of his\r
+whereabouts. First he rings his bell fearlessly, but when he gets into a\r
+tight place he runs away as quietly as he can, and often thinking to\r
+escape runs straight into his opponent's arms.\r
+\r
+At first while they were still moving along the Kaluga road, Napoleon's\r
+armies made their presence known, but later when they reached the\r
+Smolensk road they ran holding the clapper of their bell tight--and\r
+often thinking they were escaping ran right into the Russians.\r
+\r
+Owing to the rapidity of the French flight and the Russian pursuit and\r
+the consequent exhaustion of the horses, the chief means of\r
+approximately ascertaining the enemy's position--by cavalry scouting--\r
+was not available. Besides, as a result of the frequent and rapid change\r
+of position by each army, even what information was obtained could not\r
+be delivered in time. If news was received one day that the enemy had\r
+been in a certain position the day before, by the third day when\r
+something could have been done, that army was already two days' march\r
+farther on and in quite another position.\r
+\r
+One army fled and the other pursued. Beyond Smolensk there were several\r
+different roads available for the French, and one would have thought\r
+that during their stay of four days they might have learned where the\r
+enemy was, might have arranged some more advantageous plan and\r
+undertaken something new. But after a four days' halt the mob, with no\r
+maneuvers or plans, again began running along the beaten track, neither\r
+to the right nor to the left but along the old--the worst--road, through\r
+Krasnoe and Orsha.\r
+\r
+Expecting the enemy from behind and not in front, the French separated\r
+in their flight and spread out over a distance of twenty-four hours. In\r
+front of them all fled the Emperor, then the kings, then the dukes. The\r
+Russian army, expecting Napoleon to take the road to the right beyond\r
+the Dnieper--which was the only reasonable thing for him to do--\r
+themselves turned to the right and came out onto the highroad at\r
+Krasnoe. And here as in a game of blindman's buff the French ran into\r
+our vanguard. Seeing their enemy unexpectedly the French fell into\r
+confusion and stopped short from the sudden fright, but then they\r
+resumed their flight, abandoning their comrades who were farther behind.\r
+Then for three days separate portions of the French army--first Murat's\r
+(the vice-king's), then Davout's, and then Ney's--ran, as it were, the\r
+gauntlet of the Russian army. They abandoned one another, abandoned all\r
+their heavy baggage, their artillery, and half their men, and fled,\r
+getting past the Russians by night by making semicircles to the right.\r
+\r
+Ney, who came last, had been busying himself blowing up the walls of\r
+Smolensk which were in nobody's way, because despite the unfortunate\r
+plight of the French or because of it, they wished to punish the floor\r
+against which they had hurt themselves. Ney, who had had a corps of ten\r
+thousand men, reached Napoleon at Orsha with only one thousand men left,\r
+having abandoned all the rest and all his cannon, and having crossed the\r
+Dnieper at night by stealth at a wooded spot.\r
+\r
+From Orsha they fled farther along the road to Vilna, still playing at\r
+blindman's buff with the pursuing army. At the Berezina they again\r
+became disorganized, many were drowned and many surrendered, but those\r
+who got across the river fled farther. Their supreme chief donned a fur\r
+coat and, having seated himself in a sleigh, galloped on alone,\r
+abandoning his companions. The others who could do so drove away too,\r
+leaving those who could not to surrender or die.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVIII\r
+\r
+This campaign consisted in a flight of the French during which they did\r
+all they could to destroy themselves. From the time they turned onto the\r
+Kaluga road to the day their leader fled from the army, none of the\r
+movements of the crowd had any sense. So one might have thought that\r
+regarding this period of the campaign the historians, who attributed the\r
+actions of the mass to the will of one man, would have found it\r
+impossible to make the story of the retreat fit their theory. But no!\r
+Mountains of books have been written by the historians about this\r
+campaign, and everywhere are described Napoleon's arrangements, the\r
+maneuvers, and his profound plans which guided the army, as well as the\r
+military genius shown by his marshals.\r
+\r
+The retreat from Malo-Yaroslavets when he had a free road into a well-\r
+supplied district and the parallel road was open to him along which\r
+Kutuzov afterwards pursued him--this unnecessary retreat along a\r
+devastated road--is explained to us as being due to profound\r
+considerations. Similarly profound considerations are given for his\r
+retreat from Smolensk to Orsha. Then his heroism at Krasnoe is\r
+described, where he is reported to have been prepared to accept battle\r
+and take personal command, and to have walked about with a birch stick\r
+and said:\r
+\r
+"J'ai assez fait l'empereur; il est temps de faire le general," * but\r
+nevertheless immediately ran away again, abandoning to its fate the\r
+scattered fragments of the army he left behind.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "I have acted the Emperor long enough; it is time to act the general."\r
+\r
+Then we are told of the greatness of soul of the marshals, especially of\r
+Ney--a greatness of soul consisting in this: that he made his way by\r
+night around through the forest and across the Dnieper and escaped to\r
+Orsha, abandoning standards, artillery, and nine tenths of his men.\r
+\r
+And lastly, the final departure of the great Emperor from his heroic\r
+army is presented to us by the historians as something great and\r
+characteristic of genius. Even that final running away, described in\r
+ordinary language as the lowest depth of baseness which every child is\r
+taught to be ashamed of--even that act finds justification in the\r
+historians' language.\r
+\r
+When it is impossible to stretch the very elastic threads of historical\r
+ratiocination any farther, when actions are clearly contrary to all that\r
+humanity calls right or even just, the historians produce a saving\r
+conception of "greatness." "Greatness," it seems, excludes the standards\r
+of right and wrong. For the "great" man nothing is wrong, there is no\r
+atrocity for which a "great" man can be blamed.\r
+\r
+"C'est grand!" * say the historians, and there no longer exists either\r
+good or evil but only "grand" and "not grand." Grand is good, not grand\r
+is bad. Grand is the characteristic, in their conception, of some\r
+special animals called "heroes." And Napoleon, escaping home in a warm\r
+fur coat and leaving to perish those who were not merely his comrades\r
+but were (in his opinion) men he had brought there, feels que c'est\r
+grand, *(2) and his soul is tranquil.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "It is great."\r
+\r
+* (2) That it is great.\r
+\r
+"Du sublime (he saw something sublime in himself) au ridicule il n'y a\r
+qu'un pas," * said he. And the whole world for fifty years has been\r
+repeating: "Sublime! Grand! Napoleon le Grand!" Du sublime au ridicule\r
+il n'y a qu'un pas.\r
+\r
+\r
+* "From the sublime to the ridiculous is but a step."\r
+\r
+And it occurs to no one that to admit a greatness not commensurable with\r
+the standard of right and wrong is merely to admit one's own nothingness\r
+and immeasurable meanness.\r
+\r
+For us with the standard of good and evil given us by Christ, no human\r
+actions are incommensurable. And there is no greatness where simplicity,\r
+goodness, and truth are absent.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIX\r
+\r
+What Russian, reading the account of the last part of the campaign of\r
+1812, has not experienced an uncomfortable feeling of regret,\r
+dissatisfaction, and perplexity? Who has not asked himself how it is\r
+that the French were not all captured or destroyed when our three armies\r
+surrounded them in superior numbers, when the disordered French, hungry\r
+and freezing, surrendered in crowds, and when (as the historians relate)\r
+the aim of the Russians was to stop the French, to cut them off, and\r
+capture them all?\r
+\r
+How was it that the Russian army, which when numerically weaker than the\r
+French had given battle at Borodino, did not achieve its purpose when it\r
+had surrounded the French on three sides and when its aim was to capture\r
+them? Can the French be so enormously superior to us that when we had\r
+surrounded them with superior forces we could not beat them? How could\r
+that happen?\r
+\r
+History (or what is called by that name) replying to these questions\r
+says that this occurred because Kutuzov and Tormasov and Chichagov, and\r
+this man and that man, did not execute such and such maneuvers...\r
+\r
+But why did they not execute those maneuvers? And why if they were\r
+guilty of not carrying out a prearranged plan were they not tried and\r
+punished? But even if we admitted that Kutuzov, Chichagov, and others\r
+were the cause of the Russian failures, it is still incomprehensible\r
+why, the position of the Russian army being what it was at Krasnoe and\r
+at the Berezina (in both cases we had superior forces), the French army\r
+with its marshals, kings, and Emperor was not captured, if that was what\r
+the Russians aimed at.\r
+\r
+The explanation of this strange fact given by Russian military\r
+historians (to the effect that Kutuzov hindered an attack) is unfounded,\r
+for we know that he could not restrain the troops from attacking at\r
+Vyazma and Tarutino.\r
+\r
+Why was the Russian army--which with inferior forces had withstood the\r
+enemy in full strength at Borodino--defeated at Krasnoe and the Berezina\r
+by the disorganized crowds of the French when it was numerically\r
+superior?\r
+\r
+If the aim of the Russians consisted in cutting off and capturing\r
+Napoleon and his marshals--and that aim was not merely frustrated but\r
+all attempts to attain it were most shamefully baffled--then this last\r
+period of the campaign is quite rightly considered by the French to be a\r
+series of victories, and quite wrongly considered victorious by Russian\r
+historians.\r
+\r
+The Russian military historians in so far as they submit to claims of\r
+logic must admit that conclusion, and in spite of their lyrical\r
+rhapsodies about valor, devotion, and so forth, must reluctantly admit\r
+that the French retreat from Moscow was a series of victories for\r
+Napoleon and defeats for Kutuzov.\r
+\r
+But putting national vanity entirely aside one feels that such a\r
+conclusion involves a contradiction, since the series of French\r
+victories brought the French complete destruction, while the series of\r
+Russian defeats led to the total destruction of their enemy and the\r
+liberation of their country.\r
+\r
+The source of this contradiction lies in the fact that the historians\r
+studying the events from the letters of the sovereigns and the generals,\r
+from memoirs, reports, projects, and so forth, have attributed to this\r
+last period of the war of 1812 an aim that never existed, namely that of\r
+cutting off and capturing Napoleon with his marshals and his army.\r
+\r
+There never was or could have been such an aim, for it would have been\r
+senseless and its attainment quite impossible.\r
+\r
+It would have been senseless, first because Napoleon's disorganized army\r
+was flying from Russia with all possible speed, that is to say, was\r
+doing just what every Russian desired. So what was the use of performing\r
+various operations on the French who were running away as fast as they\r
+possibly could?\r
+\r
+Secondly, it would have been senseless to block the passage of men whose\r
+whole energy was directed to flight.\r
+\r
+Thirdly, it would have been senseless to sacrifice one's own troops in\r
+order to destroy the French army, which without external interference\r
+was destroying itself at such a rate that, though its path was not\r
+blocked, it could not carry across the frontier more than it actually\r
+did in December, namely a hundredth part of the original army.\r
+\r
+Fourthly, it would have been senseless to wish to take captive the\r
+Emperor, kings, and dukes--whose capture would have been in the highest\r
+degree embarrassing for the Russians, as the most adroit diplomatists of\r
+the time (Joseph de Maistre and others) recognized. Still more senseless\r
+would have been the wish to capture army corps of the French, when our\r
+own army had melted away to half before reaching Krasnoe and a whole\r
+division would have been needed to convoy the corps of prisoners, and\r
+when our men were not always getting full rations and the prisoners\r
+already taken were perishing of hunger.\r
+\r
+All the profound plans about cutting off and capturing Napoleon and his\r
+army were like the plan of a market gardener who, when driving out of\r
+his garden a cow that had trampled down the beds he had planted, should\r
+run to the gate and hit the cow on the head. The only thing to be said\r
+in excuse of that gardener would be that he was very angry. But not even\r
+that could be said for those who drew up this project, for it was not\r
+they who had suffered from the trampled beds.\r
+\r
+But besides the fact that cutting off Napoleon with his army would have\r
+been senseless, it was impossible.\r
+\r
+It was impossible first because--as experience shows that a three-mile\r
+movement of columns on a battlefield never coincides with the plans--the\r
+probability of Chichagov, Kutuzov, and Wittgenstein effecting a junction\r
+on time at an appointed place was so remote as to be tantamount to\r
+impossibility, as in fact thought Kutuzov, who when he received the plan\r
+remarked that diversions planned over great distances do not yield the\r
+desired results.\r
+\r
+Secondly it was impossible, because to paralyze the momentum with which\r
+Napoleon's army was retiring, incomparably greater forces than the\r
+Russians possessed would have been required.\r
+\r
+Thirdly it was impossible, because the military term "to cut off" has no\r
+meaning. One can cut off a slice of bread, but not an army. To cut off\r
+an army--to bar its road--is quite impossible, for there is always\r
+plenty of room to avoid capture and there is the night when nothing can\r
+be seen, as the military scientists might convince themselves by the\r
+example of Krasnoe and of the Berezina. It is only possible to capture\r
+prisoners if they agree to be captured, just as it is only possible to\r
+catch a swallow if it settles on one's hand. Men can only be taken\r
+prisoners if they surrender according to the rules of strategy and\r
+tactics, as the Germans did. But the French troops quite rightly did not\r
+consider that this suited them, since death by hunger and cold awaited\r
+them in flight or captivity alike.\r
+\r
+Fourthly and chiefly it was impossible, because never since the world\r
+began has a war been fought under such conditions as those that obtained\r
+in 1812, and the Russian army in its pursuit of the French strained its\r
+strength to the utmost and could not have done more without destroying\r
+itself.\r
+\r
+During the movement of the Russian army from Tarutino to Krasnoe it lost\r
+fifty thousand sick or stragglers, that is a number equal to the\r
+population of a large provincial town. Half the men fell out of the army\r
+without a battle.\r
+\r
+And it is of this period of the campaign--when the army lacked boots and\r
+sheepskin coats, was short of provisions and without vodka, and was\r
+camping out at night for months in the snow with fifteen degrees of\r
+frost, when there were only seven or eight hours of daylight and the\r
+rest was night in which the influence of discipline cannot be\r
+maintained, when men were taken into that region of death where\r
+discipline fails, not for a few hours only as in a battle, but for\r
+months, where they were every moment fighting death from hunger and\r
+cold, when half the army perished in a single month--it is of this\r
+period of the campaign that the historians tell us how Miloradovich\r
+should have made a flank march to such and such a place, Tormasov to\r
+another place, and Chichagov should have crossed (more than knee-deep in\r
+snow) to somewhere else, and how so-and-so "routed" and "cut off" the\r
+French and so on and so on.\r
+\r
+The Russians, half of whom died, did all that could and should have been\r
+done to attain an end worthy of the nation, and they are not to blame\r
+because other Russians, sitting in warm rooms, proposed that they should\r
+do what was impossible.\r
+\r
+All that strange contradiction now difficult to understand between the\r
+facts and the historical accounts only arises because the historians\r
+dealing with the matter have written the history of the beautiful words\r
+and sentiments of various generals, and not the history of the events.\r
+\r
+To them the words of Miloradovich seem very interesting, and so do their\r
+surmises and the rewards this or that general received; but the question\r
+of those fifty thousand men who were left in hospitals and in graves\r
+does not even interest them, for it does not come within the range of\r
+their investigation.\r
+\r
+Yet one need only discard the study of the reports and general plans and\r
+consider the movement of those hundreds of thousands of men who took a\r
+direct part in the events, and all the questions that seemed insoluble\r
+easily and simply receive an immediate and certain solution.\r
+\r
+The aim of cutting off Napoleon and his army never existed except in the\r
+imaginations of a dozen people. It could not exist because it was\r
+senseless and unattainable.\r
+\r
+The people had a single aim: to free their land from invasion. That aim\r
+was attained in the first place of itself, as the French ran away, and\r
+so it was only necessary not to stop their flight. Secondly it was\r
+attained by the guerrilla warfare which was destroying the French, and\r
+thirdly by the fact that a large Russian army was following the French,\r
+ready to use its strength in case their movement stopped.\r
+\r
+The Russian army had to act like a whip to a running animal. And the\r
+experienced driver knew it was better to hold the whip raised as a\r
+menace than to strike the running animal on the head.\r
+\r
+BOOK FIFTEEN: 1812 - 13\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+When seeing a dying animal a man feels a sense of horror: substance\r
+similar to his own is perishing before his eyes. But when it is a\r
+beloved and intimate human being that is dying, besides this horror at\r
+the extinction of life there is a severance, a spiritual wound, which\r
+like a physical wound is sometimes fatal and sometimes heals, but always\r
+aches and shrinks at any external irritating touch.\r
+\r
+After Prince Andrew's death Natasha and Princess Mary alike felt this.\r
+Drooping in spirit and closing their eyes before the menacing cloud of\r
+death that overhung them, they dared not look life in the face. They\r
+carefully guarded their open wounds from any rough and painful contact.\r
+Everything: a carriage passing rapidly in the street, a summons to\r
+dinner, the maid's inquiry what dress to prepare, or worse still any\r
+word of insincere or feeble sympathy, seemed an insult, painfully\r
+irritated the wound, interrupting that necessary quiet in which they\r
+both tried to listen to the stern and dreadful choir that still\r
+resounded in their imagination, and hindered their gazing into those\r
+mysterious limitless vistas that for an instant had opened out before\r
+them.\r
+\r
+Only when alone together were they free from such outrage and pain. They\r
+spoke little even to one another, and when they did it was of very\r
+unimportant matters.\r
+\r
+Both avoided any allusion to the future. To admit the possibility of a\r
+future seemed to them to insult his memory. Still more carefully did\r
+they avoid anything relating to him who was dead. It seemed to them that\r
+what they had lived through and experienced could not be expressed in\r
+words, and that any reference to the details of his life infringed the\r
+majesty and sacredness of the mystery that had been accomplished before\r
+their eyes.\r
+\r
+Continued abstention from speech, and constant avoidance of everything\r
+that might lead up to the subject--this halting on all sides at the\r
+boundary of what they might not mention--brought before their minds with\r
+still greater purity and clearness what they were both feeling.\r
+\r
+But pure and complete sorrow is as impossible as pure and complete joy.\r
+Princess Mary, in her position as absolute and independent arbiter of\r
+her own fate and guardian and instructor of her nephew, was the first to\r
+be called back to life from that realm of sorrow in which she had dwelt\r
+for the first fortnight. She received letters from her relations to\r
+which she had to reply; the room in which little Nicholas had been put\r
+was damp and he began to cough; Alpatych came to Yaroslavl with reports\r
+on the state of their affairs and with advice and suggestions that they\r
+should return to Moscow to the house on the Vozdvizhenka Street, which\r
+had remained uninjured and needed only slight repairs. Life did not\r
+stand still and it was necessary to live. Hard as it was for Princess\r
+Mary to emerge from the realm of secluded contemplation in which she had\r
+lived till then, and sorry and almost ashamed as she felt to leave\r
+Natasha alone, yet the cares of life demanded her attention and she\r
+involuntarily yielded to them. She went through the accounts with\r
+Alpatych, conferred with Dessalles about her nephew, and gave orders and\r
+made preparations for the journey to Moscow.\r
+\r
+Natasha remained alone and, from the time Princess Mary began making\r
+preparations for departure, held aloof from her too.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary asked the countess to let Natasha go with her to Moscow,\r
+and both parents gladly accepted this offer, for they saw their daughter\r
+losing strength every day and thought that a change of scene and the\r
+advice of Moscow doctors would be good for her.\r
+\r
+"I am not going anywhere," Natasha replied when this was proposed to\r
+her. "Do please just leave me alone!" And she ran out of the room, with\r
+difficulty refraining from tears of vexation and irritation rather than\r
+of sorrow.\r
+\r
+After she felt herself deserted by Princes Mary and alone in her grief,\r
+Natasha spent most of the time in her room by herself, sitting huddled\r
+up feet and all in the corner of the sofa, tearing and twisting\r
+something with her slender nervous fingers and gazing intently and\r
+fixedly at whatever her eyes chanced to fall on. This solitude exhausted\r
+and tormented her but she was in absolute need of it. As soon as anyone\r
+entered she got up quickly, changed her position and expression, and\r
+picked up a book or some sewing, evidently waiting impatiently for the\r
+intruder to go.\r
+\r
+She felt all the time as if she might at any moment penetrate that on\r
+which--with a terrible questioning too great for her strength--her\r
+spiritual gaze was fixed.\r
+\r
+One day toward the end of December Natasha, pale and thin, dressed in a\r
+black woolen gown, her plaited hair negligently twisted into a knot, was\r
+crouched feet and all in the corner of her sofa, nervously crumpling and\r
+smoothing out the end of her sash while she looked at a corner of the\r
+door.\r
+\r
+She was gazing in the direction in which he had gone--to the other side\r
+of life. And that other side of life, of which she had never before\r
+thought and which had formerly seemed to her so far away and improbable,\r
+was now nearer and more akin and more comprehensible than this side of\r
+life, where everything was either emptiness and desolation or suffering\r
+and indignity.\r
+\r
+She was gazing where she knew him to be; but she could not imagine him\r
+otherwise than as he had been here. She now saw him again as he had been\r
+at Mytishchi, at Troitsa, and at Yaroslavl.\r
+\r
+She saw his face, heard his voice, repeated his words and her own, and\r
+sometimes devised other words they might have spoken.\r
+\r
+There he is lying back in an armchair in his velvet cloak, leaning his\r
+head on his thin pale hand. His chest is dreadfully hollow and his\r
+shoulders raised. His lips are firmly closed, his eyes glitter, and a\r
+wrinkle comes and goes on his pale forehead. One of his legs twitches\r
+just perceptibly, but rapidly. Natasha knows that he is struggling with\r
+terrible pain. "What is that pain like? Why does he have that pain? What\r
+does he feel? How does it hurt him?" thought Natasha. He noticed her\r
+watching him, raised his eyes, and began to speak seriously:\r
+\r
+"One thing would be terrible," said he: "to bind oneself forever to a\r
+suffering man. It would be continual torture." And he looked searchingly\r
+at her. Natasha as usual answered before she had time to think what she\r
+would say. She said: "This can't go on--it won't. You will get well--\r
+quite well."\r
+\r
+She now saw him from the commencement of that scene and relived what she\r
+had then felt. She recalled his long sad and severe look at those words\r
+and understood the meaning of the rebuke and despair in that protracted\r
+gaze.\r
+\r
+"I agreed," Natasha now said to herself, "that it would be dreadful if\r
+he always continued to suffer. I said it then only because it would have\r
+been dreadful for him, but he understood it differently. He thought it\r
+would be dreadful for me. He then still wished to live and feared death.\r
+And I said it so awkwardly and stupidly! I did not say what I meant. I\r
+thought quite differently. Had I said what I thought, I should have\r
+said: even if he had to go on dying, to die continually before my eyes,\r
+I should have been happy compared with what I am now. Now there is\r
+nothing... nobody. Did he know that? No, he did not and never will know\r
+it. And now it will never, never be possible to put it right." And now\r
+he again seemed to be saying the same words to her, only in her\r
+imagination Natasha this time gave him a different answer. She stopped\r
+him and said: "Terrible for you, but not for me! You know that for me\r
+there is nothing in life but you, and to suffer with you is the greatest\r
+happiness for me," and he took her hand and pressed it as he had pressed\r
+it that terrible evening four days before his death. And in her\r
+imagination she said other tender and loving words which she might have\r
+said then but only spoke now: "I love thee!... thee! I love, love..."\r
+she said, convulsively pressing her hands and setting her teeth with a\r
+desperate effort...\r
+\r
+She was overcome by sweet sorrow and tears were already rising in her\r
+eyes; then she suddenly asked herself to whom she was saying this. Again\r
+everything was shrouded in hard, dry perplexity, and again with a\r
+strained frown she peered toward the world where he was. And now, now it\r
+seemed to her she was penetrating the mystery.... But at the instant\r
+when it seemed that the incomprehensible was revealing itself to her a\r
+loud rattle of the door handle struck painfully on her ears. Dunyasha,\r
+her maid, entered the room quickly and abruptly with a frightened look\r
+on her face and showing no concern for her mistress.\r
+\r
+"Come to your Papa at once, please!" said she with a strange, excited\r
+look. "A misfortune... about Peter Ilynich... a letter," she finished\r
+with a sob.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+Besides a feeling of aloofness from everybody Natasha was feeling a\r
+special estrangement from the members of her own family. All of them--\r
+her father, mother, and Sonya--were so near to her, so familiar, so\r
+commonplace, that all their words and feelings seemed an insult to the\r
+world in which she had been living of late, and she felt not merely\r
+indifferent to them but regarded them with hostility. She heard\r
+Dunyasha's words about Peter Ilynich and a misfortune, but did not grasp\r
+them.\r
+\r
+"What misfortune? What misfortune can happen to them? They just live\r
+their own old, quiet, and commonplace life," thought Natasha.\r
+\r
+As she entered the ballroom her father was hurriedly coming out of her\r
+mother's room. His face was puckered up and wet with tears. He had\r
+evidently run out of that room to give vent to the sobs that were\r
+choking him. When he saw Natasha he waved his arms despairingly and\r
+burst into convulsively painful sobs that distorted his soft round face.\r
+\r
+"Pe... Petya... Go, go, she... is calling..." and weeping like a child\r
+and quickly shuffling on his feeble legs to a chair, he almost fell into\r
+it, covering his face with his hands.\r
+\r
+Suddenly an electric shock seemed to run through Natasha's whole being.\r
+Terrible anguish struck her heart, she felt a dreadful ache as if\r
+something was being torn inside her and she were dying. But the pain was\r
+immediately followed by a feeling of release from the oppressive\r
+constraint that had prevented her taking part in life. The sight of her\r
+father, the terribly wild cries of her mother that she heard through the\r
+door, made her immediately forget herself and her own grief.\r
+\r
+She ran to her father, but he feebly waved his arm, pointing to her\r
+mother's door. Princess Mary, pale and with quivering chin, came out\r
+from that room and taking Natasha by the arm said something to her.\r
+Natasha neither saw nor heard her. She went in with rapid steps, pausing\r
+at the door for an instant as if struggling with herself, and then ran\r
+to her mother.\r
+\r
+The countess was lying in an armchair in a strange and awkward position,\r
+stretching out and beating her head against the wall. Sonya and the\r
+maids were holding her arms.\r
+\r
+"Natasha! Natasha!..." cried the countess. "It's not true... it's not\r
+true... He's lying... Natasha!" she shrieked, pushing those around her\r
+away. "Go away, all of you; it's not true! Killed!... ha, ha, ha!...\r
+It's not true!"\r
+\r
+Natasha put one knee on the armchair, stooped over her mother, embraced\r
+her, and with unexpected strength raised her, turned her face toward\r
+herself, and clung to her.\r
+\r
+"Mummy!... darling!... I am here, my dearest Mummy," she kept on\r
+whispering, not pausing an instant.\r
+\r
+She did not let go of her mother but struggled tenderly with her,\r
+demanded a pillow and hot water, and unfastened and tore open her\r
+mother's dress.\r
+\r
+"My dearest darling... Mummy, my precious!..." she whispered\r
+incessantly, kissing her head, her hands, her face, and feeling her own\r
+irrepressible and streaming tears tickling her nose and cheeks.\r
+\r
+The countess pressed her daughter's hand, closed her eyes, and became\r
+quiet for a moment. Suddenly she sat up with unaccustomed swiftness,\r
+glanced vacantly around her, and seeing Natasha began to press her\r
+daughter's head with all her strength. Then she turned toward her\r
+daughter's face which was wincing with pain and gazed long at it.\r
+\r
+"Natasha, you love me?" she said in a soft trustful whisper. "Natasha,\r
+you would not deceive me? You'll tell me the whole truth?"\r
+\r
+Natasha looked at her with eyes full of tears and in her look there was\r
+nothing but love and an entreaty for forgiveness.\r
+\r
+"My darling Mummy!" she repeated, straining all the power of her love to\r
+find some way of taking on herself the excess of grief that crushed her\r
+mother.\r
+\r
+And again in a futile struggle with reality her mother, refusing to\r
+believe that she could live when her beloved boy was killed in the bloom\r
+of life, escaped from reality into a world of delirium.\r
+\r
+Natasha did not remember how that day passed nor that night, nor the\r
+next day and night. She did not sleep and did not leave her mother. Her\r
+persevering and patient love seemed completely to surround the countess\r
+every moment, not explaining or consoling, but recalling her to life.\r
+\r
+During the third night the countess kept very quiet for a few minutes,\r
+and Natasha rested her head on the arm of her chair and closed her eyes,\r
+but opened them again on hearing the bedstead creak. The countess was\r
+sitting up in bed and speaking softly.\r
+\r
+"How glad I am you have come. You are tired. Won't you have some tea?"\r
+Natasha went up to her. "You have improved in looks and grown more\r
+manly," continued the countess, taking her daughter's hand.\r
+\r
+"Mamma! What are you saying..."\r
+\r
+"Natasha, he is no more, no more!"\r
+\r
+And embracing her daughter, the countess began to weep for the first\r
+time.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+Princess Mary postponed her departure. Sonya and the count tried to\r
+replace Natasha but could not. They saw that she alone was able to\r
+restrain her mother from unreasoning despair. For three weeks Natasha\r
+remained constantly at her mother's side, sleeping on a lounge chair in\r
+her room, making her eat and drink, and talking to her incessantly\r
+because the mere sound of her tender, caressing tones soothed her\r
+mother.\r
+\r
+The mother's wounded spirit could not heal. Petya's death had torn from\r
+her half her life. When the news of Petya's death had come she had been\r
+a fresh and vigorous woman of fifty, but a month later she left her room\r
+a listless old woman taking no interest in life. But the same blow that\r
+almost killed the countess, this second blow, restored Natasha to life.\r
+\r
+A spiritual wound produced by a rending of the spiritual body is like a\r
+physical wound and, strange as it may seem, just as a deep wound may\r
+heal and its edges join, physical and spiritual wounds alike can yet\r
+heal completely only as the result of a vital force from within.\r
+\r
+Natasha's wound healed in that way. She thought her life was ended, but\r
+her love for her mother unexpectedly showed her that the essence of\r
+life--love--was still active within her. Love awoke and so did life.\r
+\r
+Prince Andrew's last days had bound Princess Mary and Natasha together;\r
+this new sorrow brought them still closer to one another. Princess Mary\r
+put off her departure, and for three weeks looked after Natasha as if\r
+she had been a sick child. The last weeks passed in her mother's bedroom\r
+had strained Natasha's physical strength.\r
+\r
+One afternoon noticing Natasha shivering with fever, Princess Mary took\r
+her to her own room and made her lie down on the bed. Natasha lay down,\r
+but when Princess Mary had drawn the blinds and was going away she\r
+called her back.\r
+\r
+"I don't want to sleep, Mary, sit by me a little."\r
+\r
+"You are tired--try to sleep."\r
+\r
+"No, no. Why did you bring me away? She will be asking for me."\r
+\r
+"She is much better. She spoke so well today," said Princess Mary.\r
+\r
+Natasha lay on the bed and in the semidarkness of the room scanned\r
+Princess Mary's face.\r
+\r
+"Is she like him?" thought Natasha. "Yes, like and yet not like. But she\r
+is quite original, strange, new, and unknown. And she loves me. What is\r
+in her heart? All that is good. But how? What is her mind like? What\r
+does she think about me? Yes, she is splendid!"\r
+\r
+"Mary," she said timidly, drawing Princess Mary's hand to herself,\r
+"Mary, you mustn't think me wicked. No? Mary darling, how I love you!\r
+Let us be quite, quite friends."\r
+\r
+And Natasha, embracing her, began kissing her face and hands, making\r
+Princess Mary feel shy but happy by this demonstration of her feelings.\r
+\r
+From that day a tender and passionate friendship such as exists only\r
+between women was established between Princess Mary and Natasha. They\r
+were continually kissing and saying tender things to one another and\r
+spent most of their time together. When one went out the other became\r
+restless and hastened to rejoin her. Together they felt more in harmony\r
+with one another than either of them felt with herself when alone. A\r
+feeling stronger than friendship sprang up between them; an exclusive\r
+feeling of life being possible only in each other's presence.\r
+\r
+Sometimes they were silent for hours; sometimes after they were already\r
+in bed they would begin talking and go on till morning. They spoke most\r
+of what was long past. Princess Mary spoke of her childhood, of her\r
+mother, her father, and her daydreams; and Natasha, who with a passive\r
+lack of understanding had formerly turned away from that life of\r
+devotion, submission, and the poetry of Christian self-sacrifice, now\r
+feeling herself bound to Princess Mary by affection, learned to love her\r
+past too and to understand a side of life previously incomprehensible to\r
+her. She did not think of applying submission and self-abnegation to her\r
+own life, for she was accustomed to seek other joys, but she understood\r
+and loved in another those previously incomprehensible virtues. For\r
+Princess Mary, listening to Natasha's tales of childhood and early\r
+youth, there also opened out a new and hitherto uncomprehended side of\r
+life: belief in life and its enjoyment.\r
+\r
+Just as before, they never mentioned him so as not to lower (as they\r
+thought) their exalted feelings by words; but this silence about him had\r
+the effect of making them gradually begin to forget him without being\r
+conscious of it.\r
+\r
+Natasha had grown thin and pale and physically so weak that they all\r
+talked about her health, and this pleased her. But sometimes she was\r
+suddenly overcome by fear not only of death but of sickness, weakness,\r
+and loss of good looks, and involuntarily she examined her bare arm\r
+carefully, surprised at its thinness, and in the morning noticed her\r
+drawn and, as it seemed to her, piteous face in her glass. It seemed to\r
+her that things must be so, and yet it was dreadfully sad.\r
+\r
+One day she went quickly upstairs and found herself out of breath.\r
+Unconsciously she immediately invented a reason for going down, and\r
+then, testing her strength, ran upstairs again, observing the result.\r
+\r
+Another time when she called Dunyasha her voice trembled, so she called\r
+again--though she could hear Dunyasha coming--called her in the deep\r
+chest tones in which she had been wont to sing, and listened attentively\r
+to herself.\r
+\r
+She did not know and would not have believed it, but beneath the layer\r
+of slime that covered her soul and seemed to her impenetrable, delicate\r
+young shoots of grass were already sprouting, which taking root would so\r
+cover with their living verdure the grief that weighed her down that it\r
+would soon no longer be seen or noticed. The wound had begun to heal\r
+from within.\r
+\r
+At the end of January Princess Mary left for Moscow, and the count\r
+insisted on Natasha's going with her to consult the doctors.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+After the encounter at Vyazma, where Kutuzov had been unable to hold\r
+back his troops in their anxiety to overwhelm and cut off the enemy and\r
+so on, the farther movement of the fleeing French, and of the Russians\r
+who pursued them, continued as far as Krasnoe without a battle. The\r
+flight was so rapid that the Russian army pursuing the French could not\r
+keep up with them; cavalry and artillery horses broke down, and the\r
+information received of the movements of the French was never reliable.\r
+\r
+The men in the Russian army were so worn out by this continuous marching\r
+at the rate of twenty-seven miles a day that they could not go any\r
+faster.\r
+\r
+To realize the degree of exhaustion of the Russian army it is only\r
+necessary to grasp clearly the meaning of the fact that, while not\r
+losing more than five thousand killed and wounded after Tarutino and\r
+less than a hundred prisoners, the Russian army which left that place a\r
+hundred thousand strong reached Krasnoe with only fifty thousand.\r
+\r
+The rapidity of the Russian pursuit was just as destructive to our army\r
+as the flight of the French was to theirs. The only difference was that\r
+the Russian army moved voluntarily, with no such threat of destruction\r
+as hung over the French, and that the sick Frenchmen were left behind in\r
+enemy hands while the sick Russians left behind were among their own\r
+people. The chief cause of the wastage of Napoleon's army was the\r
+rapidity of its movement, and a convincing proof of this is the\r
+corresponding decrease of the Russian army.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov as far as was in his power, instead of trying to check the\r
+movement of the French as was desired in Petersburg and by the Russian\r
+army generals, directed his whole activity here, as he had done at\r
+Tarutino and Vyazma, to hastening it on while easing the movement of our\r
+army.\r
+\r
+But besides this, since the exhaustion and enormous diminution of the\r
+army caused by the rapidity of the advance had become evident, another\r
+reason for slackening the pace and delaying presented itself to Kutuzov.\r
+The aim of the Russian army was to pursue the French. The road the\r
+French would take was unknown, and so the closer our troops trod on\r
+their heels the greater distance they had to cover. Only by following at\r
+some distance could one cut across the zigzag path of the French. All\r
+the artful maneuvers suggested by our generals meant fresh movements of\r
+the army and a lengthening of its marches, whereas the only reasonable\r
+aim was to shorten those marches. To that end Kutuzov's activity was\r
+directed during the whole campaign from Moscow to Vilna--not casually or\r
+intermittently but so consistently that he never once deviated from it.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov felt and knew--not by reasoning or science but with the whole of\r
+his Russian being--what every Russian soldier felt: that the French were\r
+beaten, that the enemy was flying and must be driven out; but at the\r
+same time he like the soldiers realized all the hardship of this march,\r
+the rapidity of which was unparalleled for such a time of the year.\r
+\r
+But to the generals, especially the foreign ones in the Russian army,\r
+who wished to distinguish themselves, to astonish somebody, and for some\r
+reason to capture a king or a duke--it seemed that now--when any battle\r
+must be horrible and senseless--was the very time to fight and conquer\r
+somebody. Kutuzov merely shrugged his shoulders when one after another\r
+they presented projects of maneuvers to be made with those soldiers--\r
+ill-shod, insufficiently clad, and half starved--who within a month and\r
+without fighting a battle had dwindled to half their number, and who at\r
+the best if the flight continued would have to go a greater distance\r
+than they had already traversed, before they reached the frontier.\r
+\r
+This longing to distinguish themselves, to maneuver, to overthrow, and\r
+to cut off showed itself particularly whenever the Russians stumbled on\r
+the French army.\r
+\r
+So it was at Krasnoe, where they expected to find one of the three\r
+French columns and stumbled instead on Napoleon himself with sixteen\r
+thousand men. Despite all Kutuzov's efforts to avoid that ruinous\r
+encounter and to preserve his troops, the massacre of the broken mob of\r
+French soldiers by worn-out Russians continued at Krasnoe for three\r
+days.\r
+\r
+Toll wrote a disposition: "The first column will march to so and so,"\r
+etc. And as usual nothing happened in accord with the disposition.\r
+Prince Eugene of Wurttemberg fired from a hill over the French crowds\r
+that were running past, and demanded reinforcements which did not\r
+arrive. The French, avoiding the Russians, dispersed and hid themselves\r
+in the forest by night, making their way round as best they could, and\r
+continued their flight.\r
+\r
+Miloradovich, who said he did not want to know anything about the\r
+commissariat affairs of his detachment, and could never be found when he\r
+was wanted--that chevalier sans peur et sans reproche * as he styled\r
+himself--who was fond of parleys with the French, sent envoys demanding\r
+their surrender, wasted time, and did not do what he was ordered to do.\r
+\r
+\r
+* Knight without fear and without reproach.\r
+\r
+"I give you that column, lads," he said, riding up to the troops and\r
+pointing out the French to the cavalry.\r
+\r
+And the cavalry, with spurs and sabers urging on horses that could\r
+scarcely move, trotted with much effort to the column presented to them-\r
+-that is to say, to a crowd of Frenchmen stark with cold, frost-bitten,\r
+and starving--and the column that had been presented to them threw down\r
+its arms and surrendered as it had long been anxious to do.\r
+\r
+At Krasnoe they took twenty-six thousand prisoners, several hundred\r
+cannon, and a stick called a "marshal's staff," and disputed as to who\r
+had distinguished himself and were pleased with their achievement--\r
+though they much regretted not having taken Napoleon, or at least a\r
+marshal or a hero of some sort, and reproached one another and\r
+especially Kutuzov for having failed to do so.\r
+\r
+These men, carried away by their passions, were but blind tools of the\r
+most melancholy law of necessity, but considered themselves heroes and\r
+imagined that they were accomplishing a most noble and honorable deed.\r
+They blamed Kutuzov and said that from the very beginning of the\r
+campaign he had prevented their vanquishing Napoleon, that he thought of\r
+nothing but satisfying his passions and would not advance from the Linen\r
+Factories because he was comfortable there, that at Krasnoe he checked\r
+the advance because on learning that Napoleon was there he had quite\r
+lost his head, and that it was probable that he had an understanding\r
+with Napoleon and had been bribed by him, and so on, and so on.\r
+\r
+Not only did his contemporaries, carried away by their passions, talk in\r
+this way, but posterity and history have acclaimed Napoleon as grand,\r
+while Kutuzov is described by foreigners as a crafty, dissolute, weak\r
+old courtier, and by Russians as something indefinite--a sort of puppet\r
+useful only because he had a Russian name.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+In 1812 and 1813 Kutuzov was openly accused of blundering. The Emperor\r
+was dissatisfied with him. And in a history recently written by order of\r
+the Highest Authorities it is said that Kutuzov was a cunning court\r
+liar, frightened of the name of Napoleon, and that by his blunders at\r
+Krasnoe and the Berezina he deprived the Russian army of the glory of\r
+complete victory over the French. *\r
+\r
+\r
+* History of the year 1812. The character of Kutuzov and reflections on\r
+the unsatisfactory results of the battles at Krasnoe, by Bogdanovich.\r
+\r
+Such is the fate not of great men (grands hommes) whom the Russian mind\r
+does not acknowledge, but of those rare and always solitary individuals\r
+who, discerning the will of Providence, submit their personal will to\r
+it. The hatred and contempt of the crowd punish such men for discerning\r
+the higher laws.\r
+\r
+For Russian historians, strange and terrible to say, Napoleon--that most\r
+insignificant tool of history who never anywhere, even in exile, showed\r
+human dignity--Napoleon is the object of adulation and enthusiasm; he is\r
+grand. But Kutuzov--the man who from the beginning to the end of his\r
+activity in 1812, never once swerving by word or deed from Borodino to\r
+Vilna, presented an example exceptional in history of self-sacrifice and\r
+a present consciousness of the future importance of what was happening--\r
+Kutuzov seems to them something indefinite and pitiful, and when\r
+speaking of him and of the year 1812 they always seem a little ashamed.\r
+\r
+And yet it is difficult to imagine an historical character whose\r
+activity was so unswervingly directed to a single aim; and it would be\r
+difficult to imagine any aim more worthy or more consonant with the will\r
+of the whole people. Still more difficult would it be to find an\r
+instance in history of the aim of an historical personage being so\r
+completely accomplished as that to which all Kutuzov's efforts were\r
+directed in 1812.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov never talked of "forty centuries looking down from the\r
+Pyramids," of the sacrifices he offered for the fatherland, or of what\r
+he intended to accomplish or had accomplished; in general he said\r
+nothing about himself, adopted no pose, always appeared to be the\r
+simplest and most ordinary of men, and said the simplest and most\r
+ordinary things. He wrote letters to his daughters and to Madame de\r
+Stael, read novels, liked the society of pretty women, jested with\r
+generals, officers, and soldiers, and never contradicted those who tried\r
+to prove anything to him. When Count Rostopchin at the Yauza bridge\r
+galloped up to Kutuzov with personal reproaches for having caused the\r
+destruction of Moscow, and said: "How was it you promised not to abandon\r
+Moscow without a battle?" Kutuzov replied: "And I shall not abandon\r
+Moscow without a battle," though Moscow was then already abandoned. When\r
+Arakcheev, coming to him from the Emperor, said that Ermolov ought to be\r
+appointed chief of the artillery, Kutuzov replied: "Yes, I was just\r
+saying so myself," though a moment before he had said quite the\r
+contrary. What did it matter to him--who then alone amid a senseless\r
+crowd understood the whole tremendous significance of what was\r
+happening--what did it matter to him whether Rostopchin attributed the\r
+calamities of Moscow to him or to himself? Still less could it matter to\r
+him who was appointed chief of the artillery.\r
+\r
+Not merely in these cases but continually did that old man--who by\r
+experience of life had reached the conviction that thoughts and the\r
+words serving as their expression are not what move people--use quite\r
+meaningless words that happened to enter his head.\r
+\r
+But that man, so heedless of his words, did not once during the whole\r
+time of his activity utter one word inconsistent with the single aim\r
+toward which he moved throughout the whole war. Obviously in spite of\r
+himself, in very diverse circumstances, he repeatedly expressed his real\r
+thoughts with the bitter conviction that he would not be understood.\r
+Beginning with the battle of Borodino, from which time his disagreement\r
+with those about him began, he alone said that the battle of Borodino\r
+was a victory, and repeated this both verbally and in his dispatches and\r
+reports up to the time of his death. He alone said that the loss of\r
+Moscow is not the loss of Russia. In reply to Lauriston's proposal of\r
+peace, he said: There can be no peace, for such is the people's will. He\r
+alone during the retreat of the French said that all our maneuvers are\r
+useless, everything is being accomplished of itself better than we could\r
+desire; that the enemy must be offered "a golden bridge"; that neither\r
+the Tarutino, the Vyazma, nor the Krasnoe battles were necessary; that\r
+we must keep some force to reach the frontier with, and that he would\r
+not sacrifice a single Russian for ten Frenchmen.\r
+\r
+And this courtier, as he is described to us, who lies to Arakcheev to\r
+please the Emperor, he alone--incurring thereby the Emperor's\r
+displeasure--said in Vilna that to carry the war beyond the frontier is\r
+useless and harmful.\r
+\r
+Nor do words alone prove that only he understood the meaning of the\r
+events. His actions--without the smallest deviation--were all directed\r
+to one and the same threefold end: (1) to brace all his strength for\r
+conflict with the French, (2) to defeat them, and (3) to drive them out\r
+of Russia, minimizing as far as possible the sufferings of our people\r
+and of our army.\r
+\r
+This procrastinator Kutuzov, whose motto was "Patience and Time," this\r
+enemy of decisive action, gave battle at Borodino, investing the\r
+preparations for it with unparalleled solemnity. This Kutuzov who before\r
+the battle of Austerlitz began said that it would be lost, he alone, in\r
+contradiction to everyone else, declared till his death that Borodino\r
+was a victory, despite the assurance of generals that the battle was\r
+lost and despite the fact that for an army to have to retire after\r
+winning a battle was unprecedented. He alone during the whole retreat\r
+insisted that battles, which were useless then, should not be fought,\r
+and that a new war should not be begun nor the frontiers of Russia\r
+crossed.\r
+\r
+It is easy now to understand the significance of these events--if only\r
+we abstain from attributing to the activity of the mass aims that\r
+existed only in the heads of a dozen individuals--for the events and\r
+results now lie before us.\r
+\r
+But how did that old man, alone, in opposition to the general opinion,\r
+so truly discern the importance of the people's view of the events that\r
+in all his activity he was never once untrue to it?\r
+\r
+The source of that extraordinary power of penetrating the meaning of the\r
+events then occuring lay in the national feeling which he possessed in\r
+full purity and strength.\r
+\r
+Only the recognition of the fact that he possessed this feeling caused\r
+the people in so strange a manner, contrary to the Tsar's wish, to\r
+select him--an old man in disfavor--to be their representative in the\r
+national war. And only that feeling placed him on that highest human\r
+pedestal from which he, the commander-in-chief, devoted all his powers\r
+not to slaying and destroying men but to saving and showing pity on\r
+them.\r
+\r
+That simple, modest, and therefore truly great, figure could not be cast\r
+in the false mold of a European hero--the supposed ruler of men--that\r
+history has invented.\r
+\r
+To a lackey no man can be great, for a lackey has his own conception of\r
+greatness.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+The fifth of November was the first day of what is called the battle of\r
+Krasnoe. Toward evening--after much disputing and many mistakes made by\r
+generals who did not go to their proper places, and after adjutants had\r
+been sent about with counterorders--when it had become plain that the\r
+enemy was everywhere in flight and that there could and would be no\r
+battle, Kutuzov left Krasnoe and went to Dobroe whither his headquarters\r
+had that day been transferred.\r
+\r
+The day was clear and frosty. Kutuzov rode to Dobroe on his plump little\r
+white horse, followed by an enormous suite of discontented generals who\r
+whispered among themselves behind his back. All along the road groups of\r
+French prisoners captured that day (there were seven thousand of them)\r
+were crowding to warm themselves at campfires. Near Dobroe an immense\r
+crowd of tattered prisoners, buzzing with talk and wrapped and bandaged\r
+in anything they had been able to get hold of, were standing in the road\r
+beside a long row of unharnessed French guns. At the approach of the\r
+commander-in-chief the buzz of talk ceased and all eyes were fixed on\r
+Kutuzov who, wearing a white cap with a red band and a padded overcoat\r
+that bulged on his round shoulders, moved slowly along the road on his\r
+white horse. One of the generals was reporting to him where the guns and\r
+prisoners had been captured.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov seemed preoccupied and did not listen to what the general was\r
+saying. He screwed up his eyes with a dissatisfied look as he gazed\r
+attentively and fixedly at these prisoners, who presented a specially\r
+wretched appearance. Most of them were disfigured by frost-bitten noses\r
+and cheeks, and nearly all had red, swollen and festering eyes.\r
+\r
+One group of the French stood close to the road, and two of them, one of\r
+whom had his face covered with sores, were tearing a piece of raw flesh\r
+with their hands. There was something horrible and bestial in the\r
+fleeting glance they threw at the riders and in the malevolent\r
+expression with which, after a glance at Kutuzov, the soldier with the\r
+sores immediately turned away and went on with what he was doing.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov looked long and intently at these two soldiers. He puckered his\r
+face, screwed up his eyes, and pensively swayed his head. At another\r
+spot he noticed a Russian soldier laughingly patting a Frenchman on the\r
+shoulder, saying something to him in a friendly manner, and Kutuzov with\r
+the same expression on his face again swayed his head.\r
+\r
+"What were you saying?" he asked the general, who continuing his report\r
+directed the commander-in-chief's attention to some standards captured\r
+from the French and standing in front of the Preobrazhensk regiment.\r
+\r
+"Ah, the standards!" said Kutuzov, evidently detaching himself with\r
+difficulty from the thoughts that preoccupied him.\r
+\r
+He looked about him absently. Thousands of eyes were looking at him from\r
+all sides awaiting a word from him.\r
+\r
+He stopped in front of the Preobrazhensk regiment, sighed deeply, and\r
+closed his eyes. One of his suite beckoned to the soldiers carrying the\r
+standards to advance and surround the commander-in-chief with them.\r
+Kutuzov was silent for a few seconds and then, submitting with evident\r
+reluctance to the duty imposed by his position, raised his head and\r
+began to speak. A throng of officers surrounded him. He looked\r
+attentively around at the circle of officers, recognizing several of\r
+them.\r
+\r
+"I thank you all!" he said, addressing the soldiers and then again the\r
+officers. In the stillness around him his slowly uttered words were\r
+distinctly heard. "I thank you all for your hard and faithful service.\r
+The victory is complete and Russia will not forget you! Honor to you\r
+forever."\r
+\r
+He paused and looked around.\r
+\r
+"Lower its head, lower it!" he said to a soldier who had accidentally\r
+lowered the French eagle he was holding before the Preobrazhensk\r
+standards. "Lower, lower, that's it. Hurrah lads!" he added, addressing\r
+the men with a rapid movement of his chin.\r
+\r
+"Hur-r-rah!" roared thousands of voices.\r
+\r
+While the soldiers were shouting Kutuzov leaned forward in his saddle\r
+and bowed his head, and his eye lit up with a mild and apparently ironic\r
+gleam.\r
+\r
+"You see, brothers..." said he when the shouts had ceased... and all at\r
+once his voice and the expression of his face changed. It was no longer\r
+the commander-in-chief speaking but an ordinary old man who wanted to\r
+tell his comrades something very important.\r
+\r
+There was a stir among the throng of officers and in the ranks of the\r
+soldiers, who moved that they might hear better what he was going to\r
+say.\r
+\r
+"You see, brothers, I know it's hard for you, but it can't be helped!\r
+Bear up; it won't be for long now! We'll see our visitors off and then\r
+we'll rest. The Tsar won't forget your service. It is hard for you, but\r
+still you are at home while they--you see what they have come to," said\r
+he, pointing to the prisoners. "Worse off than our poorest beggars.\r
+While they were strong we didn't spare ourselves, but now we may even\r
+pity them. They are human beings too. Isn't it so, lads?"\r
+\r
+He looked around, and in the direct, respectful, wondering gaze fixed\r
+upon him he read sympathy with what he had said. His face grew brighter\r
+and brighter with an old man's mild smile, which drew the corners of his\r
+lips and eyes into a cluster of wrinkles. He ceased speaking and bowed\r
+his head as if in perplexity.\r
+\r
+"But after all who asked them here? Serves them right, the bloody\r
+bastards!" he cried, suddenly lifting his head.\r
+\r
+And flourishing his whip he rode off at a gallop for the first time\r
+during the whole campaign, and left the broken ranks of the soldiers\r
+laughing joyfully and shouting "Hurrah!"\r
+\r
+Kutuzov's words were hardly understood by the troops. No one could have\r
+repeated the field marshal's address, begun solemnly and then changing\r
+into an old man's simplehearted talk; but the hearty sincerity of that\r
+speech, the feeling of majestic triumph combined with pity for the foe\r
+and consciousness of the justice of our cause, exactly expressed by that\r
+old man's good-natured expletives, was not merely understood but lay in\r
+the soul of every soldier and found expression in their joyous and long-\r
+sustained shouts. Afterwards when one of the generals addressed Kutuzov\r
+asking whether he wished his caleche to be sent for, Kutuzov in\r
+answering unexpectedly gave a sob, being evidently greatly moved.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+When the troops reached their night's halting place on the eighth of\r
+November, the last day of the Krasnoe battles, it was already growing\r
+dusk. All day it had been calm and frosty with occasional lightly\r
+falling snow and toward evening it began to clear. Through the falling\r
+snow a purple-black and starry sky showed itself and the frost grew\r
+keener.\r
+\r
+An infantry regiment which had left Tarutino three thousand strong but\r
+now numbered only nine hundred was one of the first to arrive that night\r
+at its halting place--a village on the highroad. The quartermasters who\r
+met the regiment announced that all the huts were full of sick and dead\r
+Frenchmen, cavalrymen, and members of the staff. There was only one hut\r
+available for the regimental commander.\r
+\r
+The commander rode up to his hut. The regiment passed through the\r
+village and stacked its arms in front of the last huts.\r
+\r
+Like some huge many-limbed animal, the regiment began to prepare its\r
+lair and its food. One part of it dispersed and waded knee-deep through\r
+the snow into a birch forest to the right of the village, and\r
+immediately the sound of axes and swords, the crashing of branches, and\r
+merry voices could be heard from there. Another section amid the\r
+regimental wagons and horses which were standing in a group was busy\r
+getting out caldrons and rye biscuit, and feeding the horses. A third\r
+section scattered through the village arranging quarters for the staff\r
+officers, carrying out the French corpses that were in the huts, and\r
+dragging away boards, dry wood, and thatch from the roofs, for the\r
+campfires, or wattle fences to serve for shelter.\r
+\r
+Some fifteen men with merry shouts were shaking down the high wattle\r
+wall of a shed, the roof of which had already been removed.\r
+\r
+"Now then, all together--shove!" cried the voices, and the huge surface\r
+of the wall, sprinkled with snow and creaking with frost, was seen\r
+swaying in the gloom of the night. The lower stakes cracked more and\r
+more and at last the wall fell, and with it the men who had been pushing\r
+it. Loud, coarse laughter and joyous shouts ensued.\r
+\r
+"Now then, catch hold in twos! Hand up the lever! That's it... Where are\r
+you shoving to?"\r
+\r
+"Now, all together! But wait a moment, boys... With a song!"\r
+\r
+All stood silent, and a soft, pleasant velvety voice began to sing. At\r
+the end of the third verse as the last note died away, twenty voices\r
+roared out at once: "Oo-oo-oo-oo! That's it. All together! Heave away,\r
+boys!..." but despite their united efforts the wattle hardly moved, and\r
+in the silence that followed the heavy breathing of the men was audible.\r
+\r
+"Here, you of the Sixth Company! Devils that you are! Lend a hand...\r
+will you? You may want us one of these days."\r
+\r
+Some twenty men of the Sixth Company who were on their way into the\r
+village joined the haulers, and the wattle wall, which was about thirty-\r
+five feet long and seven feet high, moved forward along the village\r
+street, swaying, pressing upon and cutting the shoulders of the gasping\r
+men.\r
+\r
+"Get along... Falling? What are you stopping for? There now..."\r
+\r
+Merry senseless words of abuse flowed freely.\r
+\r
+"What are you up to?" suddenly came the authoritative voice of a\r
+sergeant major who came upon the men who were hauling their burden.\r
+"There are gentry here; the general himself is in that hut, and you\r
+foul-mouthed devils, you brutes, I'll give it to you!" shouted he,\r
+hitting the first man who came in his way a swinging blow on the back.\r
+"Can't you make less noise?"\r
+\r
+The men became silent. The soldier who had been struck groaned and wiped\r
+his face, which had been scratched till it bled by his falling against\r
+the wattle.\r
+\r
+"There, how that devil hits out! He's made my face all bloody," said he\r
+in a frightened whisper when the sergeant major had passed on.\r
+\r
+"Don't you like it?" said a laughing voice, and moderating their tones\r
+the men moved forward.\r
+\r
+When they were out of the village they began talking again as loud as\r
+before, interlarding their talk with the same aimless expletives.\r
+\r
+In the hut which the men had passed, the chief officers had gathered and\r
+were in animated talk over their tea about the events of the day and the\r
+maneuvers suggested for tomorrow. It was proposed to make a flank march\r
+to the left, cut off the Vice-King (Murat) and capture him.\r
+\r
+By the time the soldiers had dragged the wattle fence to its place the\r
+campfires were blazing on all sides ready for cooking, the wood\r
+crackled, the snow was melting, and black shadows of soldiers flitted to\r
+and fro all over the occupied space where the snow had been trodden\r
+down.\r
+\r
+Axes and choppers were plied all around. Everything was done without any\r
+orders being given. Stores of wood were brought for the night, shelters\r
+were rigged up for the officers, caldrons were being boiled, and muskets\r
+and accouterments put in order.\r
+\r
+The wattle wall the men had brought was set up in a semicircle by the\r
+Eighth Company as a shelter from the north, propped up by musket rests,\r
+and a campfire was built before it. They beat the tattoo, called the\r
+roll, had supper, and settled down round the fires for the night--some\r
+repairing their footgear, some smoking pipes, and some stripping\r
+themselves naked to steam the lice out of their shirts.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+One would have thought that under the almost incredibly wretched\r
+conditions the Russian soldiers were in at that time--lacking warm boots\r
+and sheepskin coats, without a roof over their heads, in the snow with\r
+eighteen degrees of frost, and without even full rations (the\r
+commissariat did not always keep up with the troops)--they would have\r
+presented a very sad and depressing spectacle.\r
+\r
+On the contrary, the army had never under the best material conditions\r
+presented a more cheerful and animated aspect. This was because all who\r
+began to grow depressed or who lost strength were sifted out of the army\r
+day by day. All the physically or morally weak had long since been left\r
+behind and only the flower of the army--physically and mentally--\r
+remained.\r
+\r
+More men collected behind the wattle fence of the Eighth Company than\r
+anywhere else. Two sergeants major were sitting with them and their\r
+campfire blazed brighter than others. For leave to sit by their wattle\r
+they demanded contributions of fuel.\r
+\r
+"Eh, Makeev! What has become of you, you son of a bitch? Are you lost or\r
+have the wolves eaten you? Fetch some more wood!" shouted a red-haired\r
+and red-faced man, screwing up his eyes and blinking because of the\r
+smoke but not moving back from the fire. "And you, Jackdaw, go and fetch\r
+some wood!" said he to another soldier.\r
+\r
+This red-haired man was neither a sergeant nor a corporal, but being\r
+robust he ordered about those weaker than himself. The soldier they\r
+called "Jackdaw," a thin little fellow with a sharp nose, rose\r
+obediently and was about to go but at that instant there came into the\r
+light of the fire the slender, handsome figure of a young soldier\r
+carrying a load of wood.\r
+\r
+"Bring it here--that's fine!"\r
+\r
+They split up the wood, pressed it down on the fire, blew at it with\r
+their mouths, and fanned it with the skirts of their greatcoats, making\r
+the flames hiss and crackle. The men drew nearer and lit their pipes.\r
+The handsome young soldier who had brought the wood, setting his arms\r
+akimbo, began stamping his cold feet rapidly and deftly on the spot\r
+where he stood.\r
+\r
+"Mother! The dew is cold but clear.... It's well that I'm a\r
+musketeer..." he sang, pretending to hiccough after each syllable.\r
+\r
+"Look out, your soles will fly off!" shouted the red-haired man,\r
+noticing that the sole of the dancer's boot was hanging loose. "What a\r
+fellow you are for dancing!"\r
+\r
+The dancer stopped, pulled off the loose piece of leather, and threw it\r
+on the fire.\r
+\r
+"Right enough, friend," said he, and, having sat down, took out of his\r
+knapsack a scrap of blue French cloth, and wrapped it round his foot.\r
+"It's the steam that spoils them," he added, stretching out his feet\r
+toward the fire.\r
+\r
+"They'll soon be issuing us new ones. They say that when we've finished\r
+hammering them, we're to receive double kits!"\r
+\r
+"And that son of a bitch Petrov has lagged behind after all, it seems,"\r
+said one sergeant major.\r
+\r
+"I've had an eye on him this long while," said the other.\r
+\r
+"Well, he's a poor sort of soldier..."\r
+\r
+"But in the Third Company they say nine men were missing yesterday."\r
+\r
+"Yes, it's all very well, but when a man's feet are frozen how can he\r
+walk?"\r
+\r
+"Eh? Don't talk nonsense!" said a sergeant major.\r
+\r
+"Do you want to be doing the same?" said an old soldier, turning\r
+reproachfully to the man who had spoken of frozen feet.\r
+\r
+"Well, you know," said the sharp-nosed man they called Jackdaw in a\r
+squeaky and unsteady voice, raising himself at the other side of the\r
+fire, "a plump man gets thin, but for a thin one it's death. Take me,\r
+now! I've got no strength left," he added, with sudden resolution\r
+turning to the sergeant major. "Tell them to send me to hospital; I'm\r
+aching all over; anyway I shan't be able to keep up."\r
+\r
+"That'll do, that'll do!" replied the sergeant major quietly.\r
+\r
+The soldier said no more and the talk went on.\r
+\r
+"What a lot of those Frenchies were taken today, and the fact is that\r
+not one of them had what you might call real boots on," said a soldier,\r
+starting a new theme. "They were no more than make-believes."\r
+\r
+"The Cossacks have taken their boots. They were clearing the hut for the\r
+colonel and carried them out. It was pitiful to see them, boys," put in\r
+the dancer. "As they turned them over one seemed still alive and, would\r
+you believe it, he jabbered something in their lingo."\r
+\r
+"But they're a clean folk, lads," the first man went on; "he was white--\r
+as white as birchbark--and some of them are such fine fellows, you might\r
+think they were nobles."\r
+\r
+"Well, what do you think? They make soldiers of all classes there."\r
+\r
+"But they don't understand our talk at all," said the dancer with a\r
+puzzled smile. "I asked him whose subject he was, and he jabbered in his\r
+own way. A queer lot!"\r
+\r
+"But it's strange, friends," continued the man who had wondered at their\r
+whiteness, "the peasants at Mozhaysk were saying that when they began\r
+burying the dead--where the battle was you know--well, those dead had\r
+been lying there for nearly a month, and says the peasant, 'they lie as\r
+white as paper, clean, and not as much smell as a puff of powder\r
+smoke.'"\r
+\r
+"Was it from the cold?" asked someone.\r
+\r
+"You're a clever fellow! From the cold indeed! Why, it was hot. If it\r
+had been from the cold, ours would not have rotted either. 'But,' he\r
+says, 'go up to ours and they are all rotten and maggoty. So,' he says,\r
+'we tie our faces up with kerchiefs and turn our heads away as we drag\r
+them off: we can hardly do it. But theirs,' he says, 'are white as paper\r
+and not so much smell as a whiff of gunpowder.'"\r
+\r
+All were silent.\r
+\r
+"It must be from their food," said the sergeant major. "They used to\r
+gobble the same food as the gentry."\r
+\r
+No one contradicted him.\r
+\r
+"That peasant near Mozhaysk where the battle was said the men were all\r
+called up from ten villages around and they carted for twenty days and\r
+still didn't finish carting the dead away. And as for the wolves, he\r
+says..."\r
+\r
+"That was a real battle," said an old soldier. "It's the only one worth\r
+remembering; but since that... it's only been tormenting folk."\r
+\r
+"And do you know, Daddy, the day before yesterday we ran at them and, my\r
+word, they didn't let us get near before they just threw down their\r
+muskets and went on their knees. 'Pardon!' they say. That's only one\r
+case. They say Platov took 'Poleon himself twice. But he didn't know the\r
+right charm. He catches him and catches him--no good! He turns into a\r
+bird in his hands and flies away. And there's no way of killing him\r
+either."\r
+\r
+"You're a first-class liar, Kiselev, when I come to look at you!"\r
+\r
+"Liar, indeed! It's the real truth."\r
+\r
+"If he fell into my hands, when I'd caught him I'd bury him in the\r
+ground with an aspen stake to fix him down. What a lot of men he's\r
+ruined!"\r
+\r
+"Well, anyhow we're going to end it. He won't come here again," remarked\r
+the old soldier, yawning.\r
+\r
+The conversation flagged, and the soldiers began settling down to sleep.\r
+\r
+"Look at the stars. It's wonderful how they shine! You would think the\r
+women had spread out their linen," said one of the men, gazing with\r
+admiration at the Milky Way.\r
+\r
+"That's a sign of a good harvest next year."\r
+\r
+"We shall want some more wood."\r
+\r
+"You warm your back and your belly gets frozen. That's queer."\r
+\r
+"O Lord!"\r
+\r
+"What are you pushing for? Is the fire only for you? Look how he's\r
+sprawling!"\r
+\r
+In the silence that ensued, the snoring of those who had fallen asleep\r
+could be heard. Others turned over and warmed themselves, now and again\r
+exchanging a few words. From a campfire a hundred paces off came a sound\r
+of general, merry laughter.\r
+\r
+"Hark at them roaring there in the Fifth Company!" said one of the\r
+soldiers, "and what a lot of them there are!"\r
+\r
+One of the men got up and went over to the Fifth Company.\r
+\r
+"They're having such fun," said he, coming back. "Two Frenchies have\r
+turned up. One's quite frozen and the other's an awful swaggerer. He's\r
+singing songs...."\r
+\r
+"Oh, I'll go across and have a look...."\r
+\r
+And several of the men went over to the Fifth Company.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+The fifth company was bivouacking at the very edge of the forest. A huge\r
+campfire was blazing brightly in the midst of the snow, lighting up the\r
+branches of trees heavy with hoarfrost.\r
+\r
+About midnight they heard the sound of steps in the snow of the forest,\r
+and the crackling of dry branches.\r
+\r
+"A bear, lads," said one of the men.\r
+\r
+They all raised their heads to listen, and out of the forest into the\r
+bright firelight stepped two strangely clad human figures clinging to\r
+one another.\r
+\r
+These were two Frenchmen who had been hiding in the forest. They came up\r
+to the fire, hoarsely uttering something in a language our soldiers did\r
+not understand. One was taller than the other; he wore an officer's hat\r
+and seemed quite exhausted. On approaching the fire he had been going to\r
+sit down, but fell. The other, a short sturdy soldier with a shawl tied\r
+round his head, was stronger. He raised his companion and said\r
+something, pointing to his mouth. The soldiers surrounded the Frenchmen,\r
+spread a greatcoat on the ground for the sick man, and brought some\r
+buckwheat porridge and vodka for both of them.\r
+\r
+The exhausted French officer was Ramballe and the man with his head\r
+wrapped in the shawl was Morel, his orderly.\r
+\r
+When Morel had drunk some vodka and finished his bowl of porridge he\r
+suddenly became unnaturally merry and chattered incessantly to the\r
+soldiers, who could not understand him. Ramballe refused food and\r
+resting his head on his elbow lay silent beside the campfire, looking at\r
+the Russian soldiers with red and vacant eyes. Occasionally he emitted a\r
+long-drawn groan and then again became silent. Morel, pointing to his\r
+shoulders, tried to impress on the soldiers the fact that Ramballe was\r
+an officer and ought to be warmed. A Russian officer who had come up to\r
+the fire sent to ask his colonel whether he would not take a French\r
+officer into his hut to warm him, and when the messenger returned and\r
+said that the colonel wished the officer to be brought to him, Ramballe\r
+was told to go. He rose and tried to walk, but staggered and would have\r
+fallen had not a soldier standing by held him up.\r
+\r
+"You won't do it again, eh?" said one of the soldiers, winking and\r
+turning mockingly to Ramballe.\r
+\r
+"Oh, you fool! Why talk rubbish, lout that you are--a real peasant!"\r
+came rebukes from all sides addressed to the jesting soldier.\r
+\r
+They surrounded Ramballe, lifted him on the crossed arms of two\r
+soldiers, and carried him to the hut. Ramballe put his arms around their\r
+necks while they carried him and began wailing plaintively:\r
+\r
+"Oh, you fine fellows, my kind, kind friends! These are men! Oh, my\r
+brave, kind friends," and he leaned his head against the shoulder of one\r
+of the men like a child.\r
+\r
+Meanwhile Morel was sitting in the best place by the fire, surrounded by\r
+the soldiers.\r
+\r
+Morel, a short sturdy Frenchman with inflamed and streaming eyes, was\r
+wearing a woman's cloak and had a shawl tied woman fashion round his\r
+head over his cap. He was evidently tipsy, and was singing a French song\r
+in a hoarse broken voice, with an arm thrown round the nearest soldier.\r
+The soldiers simply held their sides as they watched him.\r
+\r
+"Now then, now then, teach us how it goes! I'll soon pick it up. How is\r
+it?" said the man--a singer and a wag--whom Morel was embracing.\r
+\r
+"Vive Henri Quatre! Vive ce roi valiant!" sang Morel, winking. "Ce\r
+diable a quatre..." *\r
+\r
+\r
+* "Long live Henry the Fourth, that valiant king! That rowdy devil."\r
+\r
+"Vivarika! Vif-seruvaru! Sedyablyaka!" repeated the soldier, flourishing\r
+his arm and really catching the tune.\r
+\r
+"Bravo! Ha, ha, ha!" rose their rough, joyous laughter from all sides.\r
+\r
+Morel, wrinkling up his face, laughed too.\r
+\r
+"Well, go on, go on!"\r
+\r
+\r
+"Qui eut le triple talent, De boire, de battre, Et d'etre un vert\r
+galant." *\r
+\r
+\r
+* Who had a triple talent For drinking, for fighting, And for being a\r
+gallant old boy...\r
+\r
+"It goes smoothly, too. Well, now, Zaletaev!"\r
+\r
+"Ke..." Zaletaev, brought out with effort: "ke-e-e-e," he drawled,\r
+laboriously pursing his lips, "le-trip-ta-la-de-bu-de-ba, e de-tra-va-\r
+ga-la" he sang.\r
+\r
+"Fine! Just like the Frenchie! Oh, ho ho! Do you want some more to eat?"\r
+\r
+"Give him some porridge: it takes a long time to get filled up after\r
+starving."\r
+\r
+They gave him some more porridge and Morel with a laugh set to work on\r
+his third bowl. All the young soldiers smiled gaily as they watched him.\r
+The older men, who thought it undignified to amuse themselves with such\r
+nonsense, continued to lie at the opposite side of the fire, but one\r
+would occasionally raise himself on an elbow and glance at Morel with a\r
+smile.\r
+\r
+"They are men too," said one of them as he wrapped himself up in his\r
+coat. "Even wormwood grows on its own root."\r
+\r
+"O Lord, O Lord! How starry it is! Tremendous! That means a hard\r
+frost...."\r
+\r
+They all grew silent. The stars, as if knowing that no one was looking\r
+at them, began to disport themselves in the dark sky: now flaring up,\r
+now vanishing, now trembling, they were busy whispering something\r
+gladsome and mysterious to one another.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+The French army melted away at the uniform rate of a mathematical\r
+progression; and that crossing of the Berezina about which so much has\r
+been written was only one intermediate stage in its destruction, and not\r
+at all the decisive episode of the campaign. If so much has been and\r
+still is written about the Berezina, on the French side this is only\r
+because at the broken bridge across that river the calamities their army\r
+had been previously enduring were suddenly concentrated at one moment\r
+into a tragic spectacle that remained in every memory, and on the\r
+Russian side merely because in Petersburg--far from the seat of war--a\r
+plan (again one of Pfuel's) had been devised to catch Napoleon in a\r
+strategic trap at the Berezina River. Everyone assured himself that all\r
+would happen according to plan, and therefore insisted that it was just\r
+the crossing of the Berezina that destroyed the French army. In reality\r
+the results of the crossing were much less disastrous to the French--in\r
+guns and men lost--than Krasnoe had been, as the figures show.\r
+\r
+The sole importance of the crossing of the Berezina lies in the fact\r
+that it plainly and indubitably proved the fallacy of all the plans for\r
+cutting off the enemy's retreat and the soundness of the only possible\r
+line of action--the one Kutuzov and the general mass of the army\r
+demanded--namely, simply to follow the enemy up. The French crowd fled\r
+at a continually increasing speed and all its energy was directed to\r
+reaching its goal. It fled like a wounded animal and it was impossible\r
+to block its path. This was shown not so much by the arrangements it\r
+made for crossing as by what took place at the bridges. When the bridges\r
+broke down, unarmed soldiers, people from Moscow and women with children\r
+who were with the French transport, all--carried on by vis inertiae--\r
+pressed forward into boats and into the ice-covered water and did not,\r
+surrender.\r
+\r
+That impulse was reasonable. The condition of fugitives and of pursuers\r
+was equally bad. As long as they remained with their own people each\r
+might hope for help from his fellows and the definite place he held\r
+among them. But those who surrendered, while remaining in the same\r
+pitiful plight, would be on a lower level to claim a share in the\r
+necessities of life. The French did not need to be informed of the fact\r
+that half the prisoners--with whom the Russians did not know what to do-\r
+-perished of cold and hunger despite their captors' desire to save them;\r
+they felt that it could not be otherwise. The most compassionate Russian\r
+commanders, those favorable to the French--and even the Frenchmen in the\r
+Russian service--could do nothing for the prisoners. The French perished\r
+from the conditions to which the Russian army was itself exposed. It was\r
+impossible to take bread and clothes from our hungry and indispensable\r
+soldiers to give to the French who, though not harmful, or hated, or\r
+guilty, were simply unnecessary. Some Russians even did that, but they\r
+were exceptions.\r
+\r
+Certain destruction lay behind the French but in front there was hope.\r
+Their ships had been burned, there was no salvation save in collective\r
+flight, and on that the whole strength of the French was concentrated.\r
+\r
+The farther they fled the more wretched became the plight of the\r
+remnant, especially after the Berezina, on which (in consequence of the\r
+Petersburg plan) special hopes had been placed by the Russians, and the\r
+keener grew the passions of the Russian commanders, who blamed one\r
+another and Kutuzov most of all. Anticipation that the failure of the\r
+Petersburg Berezina plan would be attributed to Kutuzov led to\r
+dissatisfaction, contempt, and ridicule, more and more strongly\r
+expressed. The ridicule and contempt were of course expressed in a\r
+respectful form, making it impossible for him to ask wherein he was to\r
+blame. They did not talk seriously to him; when reporting to him or\r
+asking for his sanction they appeared to be fulfilling a regrettable\r
+formality, but they winked behind his back and tried to mislead him at\r
+every turn.\r
+\r
+Because they could not understand him all these people assumed that it\r
+was useless to talk to the old man; that he would never grasp the\r
+profundity of their plans, that he would answer with his phrases (which\r
+they thought were mere phrases) about a "golden bridge," about the\r
+impossibility of crossing the frontier with a crowd of tatterdemalions,\r
+and so forth. They had heard all that before. And all he said--that it\r
+was necessary to await provisions, or that the men had no boots--was so\r
+simple, while what they proposed was so complicated and clever, that it\r
+was evident that he was old and stupid and that they, though not in\r
+power, were commanders of genius.\r
+\r
+After the junction with the army of the brilliant admiral and Petersburg\r
+hero Wittgenstein, this mood and the gossip of the staff reached their\r
+maximum. Kutuzov saw this and merely sighed and shrugged his shoulders.\r
+Only once, after the affair of the Berezina, did he get angry and write\r
+to Bennigsen (who reported separately to the Emperor) the following\r
+letter:\r
+\r
+"On account of your spells of ill health, will your excellency please be\r
+so good as to set off for Kaluga on receipt of this, and there await\r
+further commands and appointments from His Imperial Majesty."\r
+\r
+But after Bennigsen's departure, the Grand Duke Tsarevich Constantine\r
+Pavlovich joined the army. He had taken part in the beginning of the\r
+campaign but had subsequently been removed from the army by Kutuzov. Now\r
+having come to the army, he informed Kutuzov of the Emperor's\r
+displeasure at the poor success of our forces and the slowness of their\r
+advance. The Emperor intended to join the army personally in a few days'\r
+time.\r
+\r
+The old man, experienced in court as well as in military affairs--this\r
+same Kutuzov who in August had been chosen commander-in-chief against\r
+the sovereign's wishes and who had removed the Grand Duke and heir--\r
+apparent from the army--who on his own authority and contrary to the\r
+Emperor's will had decided on the abandonment of Moscow, now realized at\r
+once that his day was over, that his part was played, and that the power\r
+he was supposed to hold was no longer his. And he understood this not\r
+merely from the attitude of the court. He saw on the one hand that the\r
+military business in which he had played his part was ended and felt\r
+that his mission was accomplished; and at the same time he began to be\r
+conscious of the physical weariness of his aged body and of the\r
+necessity of physical rest.\r
+\r
+On the twenty-ninth of November Kutuzov entered Vilna--his "dear Vilna"\r
+as he called it. Twice during his career Kutuzov had been governor of\r
+Vilna. In that wealthy town, which had not been injured, he found old\r
+friends and associations, besides the comforts of life of which he had\r
+so long been deprived. And he suddenly turned from the cares of army and\r
+state and, as far as the passions that seethed around him allowed,\r
+immersed himself in the quiet life to which he had formerly been\r
+accustomed, as if all that was taking place and all that had still to be\r
+done in the realm of history did not concern him at all.\r
+\r
+Chichagov, one of the most zealous "cutters-off" and "breakers-up," who\r
+had first wanted to effect a diversion in Greece and then in Warsaw but\r
+never wished to go where he was sent: Chichagov, noted for the boldness\r
+with which he spoke to the Emperor, and who considered Kutuzov to be\r
+under an obligation to him because when he was sent to make peace with\r
+Turkey in 1811 independently of Kutuzov, and found that peace had\r
+already been concluded, he admitted to the Emperor that the merit of\r
+securing that peace was really Kutuzov's; this Chichagov was the first\r
+to meet Kutuzov at the castle where the latter was to stay. In undress\r
+naval uniform, with a dirk, and holding his cap under his arm, he handed\r
+Kutuzov a garrison report and the keys of the town. The contemptuously\r
+respectful attitude of the younger men to the old man in his dotage was\r
+expressed in the highest degree by the behavior of Chichagov, who knew\r
+of the accusations that were being directed against Kutuzov.\r
+\r
+When speaking to Chichagov, Kutuzov incidentally mentioned that the\r
+vehicles packed with china that had been captured from him at Borisov\r
+had been recovered and would be restored to him.\r
+\r
+"You mean to imply that I have nothing to eat out of.... On the\r
+contrary, I can supply you with everything even if you want to give\r
+dinner parties," warmly replied Chichagov, who tried by every word he\r
+spoke to prove his own rectitude and therefore imagined Kutuzov to be\r
+animated by the same desire.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov, shrugging his shoulders, replied with his subtle penetrating\r
+smile: "I meant merely to say what I said."\r
+\r
+Contrary to the Emperor's wish Kutuzov detained the greater part of the\r
+army at Vilna. Those about him said that he became extraordinarily slack\r
+and physically feeble during his stay in that town. He attended to army\r
+affairs reluctantly, left everything to his generals, and while awaiting\r
+the Emperor's arrival led a dissipated life.\r
+\r
+Having left Petersburg on the seventh of December with his suite--Count\r
+Tolstoy, Prince Volkonski, Arakcheev, and others--the Emperor reached\r
+Vilna on the eleventh, and in his traveling sleigh drove straight to the\r
+castle. In spite of the severe frost some hundred generals and staff\r
+officers in full parade uniform stood in front of the castle, as well as\r
+a guard of honor of the Semenov regiment.\r
+\r
+A courier who galloped to the castle in advance, in a troyka with three\r
+foam-flecked horses, shouted "Coming!" and Konovnitsyn rushed into the\r
+vestibule to inform Kutuzov, who was waiting in the hall porter's little\r
+lodge.\r
+\r
+A minute later the old man's large stout figure in full-dress uniform,\r
+his chest covered with orders and a scarf drawn round his stomach,\r
+waddled out into the porch. He put on his hat with its peaks to the\r
+sides and, holding his gloves in his hand and walking with an effort\r
+sideways down the steps to the level of the street, took in his hand the\r
+report he had prepared for the Emperor.\r
+\r
+There was running to and fro and whispering; another troyka flew\r
+furiously up, and then all eyes were turned on an approaching sleigh in\r
+which the figures of the Emperor and Volkonski could already be\r
+descried.\r
+\r
+From the habit of fifty years all this had a physically agitating effect\r
+on the old general. He carefully and hastily felt himself all over,\r
+readjusted his hat, and pulling himself together drew himself up and, at\r
+the very moment when the Emperor, having alighted from the sleigh,\r
+lifted his eyes to him, handed him the report and began speaking in his\r
+smooth, ingratiating voice.\r
+\r
+The Emperor with a rapid glance scanned Kutuzov from head to foot,\r
+frowned for an instant, but immediately mastering himself went up to the\r
+old man, extended his arms and embraced him. And this embrace too, owing\r
+to a long-standing impression related to his innermost feelings, had its\r
+usual effect on Kutuzov and he gave a sob.\r
+\r
+The Emperor greeted the officers and the Semenov guard, and again\r
+pressing the old man's hand went with him into the castle.\r
+\r
+When alone with the field marshal the Emperor expressed his\r
+dissatisfaction at the slowness of the pursuit and at the mistakes made\r
+at Krasnoe and the Berezina, and informed him of his intentions for a\r
+future campaign abroad. Kutuzov made no rejoinder or remark. The same\r
+submissive, expressionless look with which he had listened to the\r
+Emperor's commands on the field of Austerlitz seven years before settled\r
+on his face now.\r
+\r
+When Kutuzov came out of the study and with lowered head was crossing\r
+the ballroom with his heavy waddling gait, he was arrested by someone's\r
+voice saying:\r
+\r
+"Your Serene Highness!"\r
+\r
+Kutuzov raised his head and looked for a long while into the eyes of\r
+Count Tolstoy, who stood before him holding a silver salver on which lay\r
+a small object. Kutuzov seemed not to understand what was expected of\r
+him.\r
+\r
+Suddenly he seemed to remember; a scarcely perceptible smile flashed\r
+across his puffy face, and bowing low and respectfully he took the\r
+object that lay on the salver. It was the Order of St. George of the\r
+First Class.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+Next day the field marshal gave a dinner and ball which the Emperor\r
+honored by his presence. Kutuzov had received the Order of St. George of\r
+the First Class and the Emperor showed him the highest honors, but\r
+everyone knew of the imperial dissatisfaction with him. The proprieties\r
+were observed and the Emperor was the first to set that example, but\r
+everybody understood that the old man was blameworthy and good-for-\r
+nothing. When Kutuzov, conforming to a custom of Catherine's day,\r
+ordered the standards that had been captured to be lowered at the\r
+Emperor's feet on his entering the ballroom, the Emperor made a wry face\r
+and muttered something in which some people caught the words, "the old\r
+comedian."\r
+\r
+The Emperor's displeasure with Kutuzov was specially increased at Vilna\r
+by the fact that Kutuzov evidently could not or would not understand the\r
+importance of the coming campaign.\r
+\r
+When on the following morning the Emperor said to the officers assembled\r
+about him: "You have not only saved Russia, you have saved Europe!" they\r
+all understood that the war was not ended.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov alone would not see this and openly expressed his opinion that\r
+no fresh war could improve the position or add to the glory of Russia,\r
+but could only spoil and lower the glorious position that Russia had\r
+gained. He tried to prove to the Emperor the impossibility of levying\r
+fresh troops, spoke of the hardships already endured by the people, of\r
+the possibility of failure and so forth.\r
+\r
+This being the field marshal's frame of mind he was naturally regarded\r
+as merely a hindrance and obstacle to the impending war.\r
+\r
+To avoid unpleasant encounters with the old man, the natural method was\r
+to do what had been done with him at Austerlitz and with Barclay at the\r
+beginning of the Russian campaign--to transfer the authority to the\r
+Emperor himself, thus cutting the ground from under the commander in\r
+chief's feet without upsetting the old man by informing him of the\r
+change.\r
+\r
+With this object his staff was gradually reconstructed and its real\r
+strength removed and transferred to the Emperor. Toll, Konovnitsyn, and\r
+Ermolov received fresh appointments. Everyone spoke loudly of the field\r
+marshal's great weakness and failing health.\r
+\r
+His health had to be bad for his place to be taken away and given to\r
+another. And in fact his health was poor.\r
+\r
+So naturally, simply, and gradually--just as he had come from Turkey to\r
+the Treasury in Petersburg to recruit the militia, and then to the army\r
+when he was needed there--now when his part was played out, Kutuzov's\r
+place was taken by a new and necessary performer.\r
+\r
+The war of 1812, besides its national significance dear to every Russian\r
+heart, was now to assume another, a European, significance.\r
+\r
+The movement of peoples from west to east was to be succeeded by a\r
+movement of peoples from east to west, and for this fresh war another\r
+leader was necessary, having qualities and views differing from\r
+Kutuzov's and animated by different motives.\r
+\r
+Alexander I was as necessary for the movement of the peoples from east\r
+to west and for the refixing of national frontiers as Kutuzov had been\r
+for the salvation and glory of Russia.\r
+\r
+Kutuzov did not understand what Europe, the balance of power, or\r
+Napoleon meant. He could not understand it. For the representative of\r
+the Russian people, after the enemy had been destroyed and Russia had\r
+been liberated and raised to the summit of her glory, there was nothing\r
+left to do as a Russian. Nothing remained for the representative of the\r
+national war but to die, and Kutuzov died.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+As generally happens, Pierre did not feel the full effects of the\r
+physical privation and strain he had suffered as prisoner until after\r
+they were over. After his liberation he reached Orel, and on the third\r
+day there, when preparing to go to Kiev, he fell ill and was laid up for\r
+three months. He had what the doctors termed "bilious fever." But\r
+despite the fact that the doctors treated him, bled him, and gave him\r
+medicines to drink, he recovered.\r
+\r
+Scarcely any impression was left on Pierre's mind by all that happened\r
+to him from the time of his rescue till his illness. He remembered only\r
+the dull gray weather now rainy and now snowy, internal physical\r
+distress, and pains in his feet and side. He remembered a general\r
+impression of the misfortunes and sufferings of people and of being\r
+worried by the curiosity of officers and generals who questioned him, he\r
+also remembered his difficulty in procuring a conveyance and horses, and\r
+above all he remembered his incapacity to think and feel all that time.\r
+On the day of his rescue he had seen the body of Petya Rostov. That same\r
+day he had learned that Prince Andrew, after surviving the battle of\r
+Borodino for more than a month had recently died in the Rostovs' house\r
+at Yaroslavl, and Denisov who told him this news also mentioned Helene's\r
+death, supposing that Pierre had heard of it long before. All this at\r
+the time seemed merely strange to Pierre: he felt he could not grasp its\r
+significance. Just then he was only anxious to get away as quickly as\r
+possible from places where people were killing one another, to some\r
+peaceful refuge where he could recover himself, rest, and think over all\r
+the strange new facts he had learned; but on reaching Orel he\r
+immediately fell ill. When he came to himself after his illness he saw\r
+in attendance on him two of his servants, Terenty and Vaska, who had\r
+come from Moscow; and also his cousin the eldest princess, who had been\r
+living on his estate at Elets and hearing of his rescue and illness had\r
+come to look after him.\r
+\r
+It was only gradually during his convalescence that Pierre lost the\r
+impressions he had become accustomed to during the last few months and\r
+got used to the idea that no one would oblige him to go anywhere\r
+tomorrow, that no one would deprive him of his warm bed, and that he\r
+would be sure to get his dinner, tea, and supper. But for a long time in\r
+his dreams he still saw himself in the conditions of captivity. In the\r
+same way little by little he came to understand the news he had been\r
+told after his rescue, about the death of Prince Andrew, the death of\r
+his wife, and the destruction of the French.\r
+\r
+A joyous feeling of freedom--that complete inalienable freedom natural\r
+to man which he had first experienced at the first halt outside Moscow--\r
+filled Pierre's soul during his convalescence. He was surprised to find\r
+that this inner freedom, which was independent of external conditions,\r
+now had as it were an additional setting of external liberty. He was\r
+alone in a strange town, without acquaintances. No one demanded anything\r
+of him or sent him anywhere. He had all he wanted: the thought of his\r
+wife which had been a continual torment to him was no longer there,\r
+since she was no more.\r
+\r
+"Oh, how good! How splendid!" said he to himself when a cleanly laid\r
+table was moved up to him with savory beef tea, or when he lay down for\r
+the night on a soft clean bed, or when he remembered that the French had\r
+gone and that his wife was no more. "Oh, how good, how splendid!"\r
+\r
+And by old habit he asked himself the question: "Well, and what then?\r
+What am I going to do?" And he immediately gave himself the answer:\r
+"Well, I shall live. Ah, how splendid!"\r
+\r
+The very question that had formerly tormented him, the thing he had\r
+continually sought to find--the aim of life--no longer existed for him\r
+now. That search for the aim of life had not merely disappeared\r
+temporarily--he felt that it no longer existed for him and could not\r
+present itself again. And this very absence of an aim gave him the\r
+complete, joyous sense of freedom which constituted his happiness at\r
+this time.\r
+\r
+He could not see an aim, for he now had faith--not faith in any kind of\r
+rule, or words, or ideas, but faith in an ever-living, ever-manifest\r
+God. Formerly he had sought Him in aims he set himself. That search for\r
+an aim had been simply a search for God, and suddenly in his captivity\r
+he had learned not by words or reasoning but by direct feeling what his\r
+nurse had told him long ago: that God is here and everywhere. In his\r
+captivity he had learned that in Karataev God was greater, more infinite\r
+and unfathomable than in the Architect of the Universe recognized by the\r
+Freemasons. He felt like a man who after straining his eyes to see into\r
+the far distance finds what he sought at his very feet. All his life he\r
+had looked over the heads of the men around him, when he should have\r
+merely looked in front of him without straining his eyes.\r
+\r
+In the past he had never been able to find that great inscrutable\r
+infinite something. He had only felt that it must exist somewhere and\r
+had looked for it. In everything near and comprehensible he had only\r
+what was limited, petty, commonplace, and senseless. He had equipped\r
+himself with a mental telescope and looked into remote space, where\r
+petty worldliness hiding itself in misty distance had seemed to him\r
+great and infinite merely because it was not clearly seen. And such had\r
+European life, politics, Freemasonry, philosophy, and philanthropy\r
+seemed to him. But even then, at moments of weakness as he had accounted\r
+them, his mind had penetrated to those distances and he had there seen\r
+the same pettiness, worldliness, and senselessness. Now, however, he had\r
+learned to see the great, eternal, and infinite in everything, and\r
+therefore--to see it and enjoy its contemplation--he naturally threw\r
+away the telescope through which he had till now gazed over men's heads,\r
+and gladly regarded the ever-changing, eternally great, unfathomable,\r
+and infinite life around him. And the closer he looked the more tranquil\r
+and happy he became. That dreadful question, "What for?" which had\r
+formerly destroyed all his mental edifices, no longer existed for him.\r
+To that question, "What for?" a simple answer was now always ready in\r
+his soul: "Because there is a God, that God without whose will not one\r
+hair falls from a man's head."\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIII\r
+\r
+In external ways Pierre had hardly changed at all. In appearance he was\r
+just what he used to be. As before he was absent-minded and seemed\r
+occupied not with what was before his eyes but with something special of\r
+his own. The difference between his former and present self was that\r
+formerly when he did not grasp what lay before him or was said to him,\r
+he had puckered his forehead painfully as if vainly seeking to\r
+distinguish something at a distance. At present he still forgot what was\r
+said to him and still did not see what was before his eyes, but he now\r
+looked with a scarcely perceptible and seemingly ironic smile at what\r
+was before him and listened to what was said, though evidently seeing\r
+and hearing something quite different. Formerly he had appeared to be a\r
+kindhearted but unhappy man, and so people had been inclined to avoid\r
+him. Now a smile at the joy of life always played round his lips, and\r
+sympathy for others, shone in his eyes with a questioning look as to\r
+whether they were as contented as he was, and people felt pleased by his\r
+presence.\r
+\r
+Previously he had talked a great deal, grew excited when he talked, and\r
+seldom listened; now he was seldom carried away in conversation and knew\r
+how to listen so that people readily told him their most intimate\r
+secrets.\r
+\r
+The princess, who had never liked Pierre and had been particularly\r
+hostile to him since she had felt herself under obligations to him after\r
+the old count's death, now after staying a short time in Orel--where she\r
+had come intending to show Pierre that in spite of his ingratitude she\r
+considered it her duty to nurse him--felt to her surprise and vexation\r
+that she had become fond of him. Pierre did not in any way seek her\r
+approval, he merely studied her with interest. Formerly she had felt\r
+that he regarded her with indifference and irony, and so had shrunk into\r
+herself as she did with others and had shown him only the combative side\r
+of her nature; but now he seemed to be trying to understand the most\r
+intimate places of her heart, and, mistrustfully at first but afterwards\r
+gratefully, she let him see the hidden, kindly sides of her character.\r
+\r
+The most cunning man could not have crept into her confidence more\r
+successfully, evoking memories of the best times of her youth and\r
+showing sympathy with them. Yet Pierre's cunning consisted simply in\r
+finding pleasure in drawing out the human qualities of the embittered,\r
+hard, and (in her own way) proud princess.\r
+\r
+"Yes, he is a very, very kind man when he is not under the influence of\r
+bad people but of people such as myself," thought she.\r
+\r
+His servants too--Terenty and Vaska--in their own way noticed the change\r
+that had taken place in Pierre. They considered that he had become much\r
+"simpler." Terenty, when he had helped him undress and wished him good\r
+night, often lingered with his master's boots in his hands and clothes\r
+over his arm, to see whether he would not start a talk. And Pierre,\r
+noticing that Terenty wanted a chat, generally kept him there.\r
+\r
+"Well, tell me... now, how did you get food?" he would ask.\r
+\r
+And Terenty would begin talking of the destruction of Moscow, and of the\r
+old count, and would stand for a long time holding the clothes and\r
+talking, or sometimes listening to Pierre's stories, and then would go\r
+out into the hall with a pleasant sense of intimacy with his master and\r
+affection for him.\r
+\r
+The doctor who attended Pierre and visited him every day, though he\r
+considered it his duty as a doctor to pose as a man whose every moment\r
+was of value to suffering humanity, would sit for hours with Pierre\r
+telling him his favorite anecdotes and his observations on the\r
+characters of his patients in general, and especially of the ladies.\r
+\r
+"It's a pleasure to talk to a man like that; he is not like our\r
+provincials," he would say.\r
+\r
+There were several prisoners from the French army in Orel, and the\r
+doctor brought one of them, a young Italian, to see Pierre.\r
+\r
+This officer began visiting Pierre, and the princess used to make fun of\r
+the tenderness the Italian expressed for him.\r
+\r
+The Italian seemed happy only when he could come to see Pierre, talk\r
+with him, tell him about his past, his life at home, and his love, and\r
+pour out to him his indignation against the French and especially\r
+against Napoleon.\r
+\r
+"If all Russians are in the least like you, it is sacrilege to fight\r
+such a nation," he said to Pierre. "You, who have suffered so from the\r
+French, do not even feel animosity toward them."\r
+\r
+Pierre had evoked the passionate affection of the Italian merely by\r
+evoking the best side of his nature and taking a pleasure in so doing.\r
+\r
+During the last days of Pierre's stay in Orel his old masonic\r
+acquaintance Count Willarski, who had introduced him to the lodge in\r
+1807, came to see him. Willarski was married to a Russian heiress who\r
+had a large estate in Orel province, and he occupied a temporary post in\r
+the commissariat department in that town.\r
+\r
+Hearing that Bezukhov was in Orel, Willarski, though they had never been\r
+intimate, came to him with the professions of friendship and intimacy\r
+that people who meet in a desert generally express for one another.\r
+Willarski felt dull in Orel and was pleased to meet a man of his own\r
+circle and, as he supposed, of similar interests.\r
+\r
+But to his surprise Willarski soon noticed that Pierre had lagged much\r
+behind the times, and had sunk, as he expressed it to himself, into\r
+apathy and egotism.\r
+\r
+"You are letting yourself go, my dear fellow," he said.\r
+\r
+But for all that Willarski found it pleasanter now than it had been\r
+formerly to be with Pierre, and came to see him every day. To Pierre as\r
+he looked at and listened to Willarski, it seemed strange to think that\r
+he had been like that himself but a short time before.\r
+\r
+Willarski was a married man with a family, busy with his family affairs,\r
+his wife's affairs, and his official duties. He regarded all these\r
+occupations as hindrances to life, and considered that they were all\r
+contemptible because their aim was the welfare of himself and his\r
+family. Military, administrative, political, and masonic interests\r
+continually absorbed his attention. And Pierre, without trying to change\r
+the other's views and without condemning him, but with the quiet,\r
+joyful, and amused smile now habitual to him, was interested in this\r
+strange though very familiar phenomenon.\r
+\r
+There was a new feature in Pierre's relations with Willarski, with the\r
+princess, with the doctor, and with all the people he now met, which\r
+gained for him the general good will. This was his acknowledgment of the\r
+impossibility of changing a man's convictions by words, and his\r
+recognition of the possibility of everyone thinking, feeling, and seeing\r
+things each from his own point of view. This legitimate peculiarity of\r
+each individual which used to excite and irritate Pierre now became a\r
+basis of the sympathy he felt for, and the interest he took in, other\r
+people. The difference, and sometimes complete contradiction, between\r
+men's opinions and their lives, and between one man and another, pleased\r
+him and drew from him an amused and gentle smile.\r
+\r
+In practical matters Pierre unexpectedly felt within himself a center of\r
+gravity he had previously lacked. Formerly all pecuniary questions,\r
+especially requests for money to which, as an extremely wealthy man, he\r
+was very exposed, produced in him a state of hopeless agitation and\r
+perplexity. "To give or not to give?" he had asked himself. "I have it\r
+and he needs it. But someone else needs it still more. Who needs it\r
+most? And perhaps they are both impostors?" In the old days he had been\r
+unable to find a way out of all these surmises and had given to all who\r
+asked as long as he had anything to give. Formerly he had been in a\r
+similar state of perplexity with regard to every question concerning his\r
+property, when one person advised one thing and another something else.\r
+\r
+Now to his surprise he found that he no longer felt either doubt or\r
+perplexity about these questions. There was now within him a judge who\r
+by some rule unknown to him decided what should or should not be done.\r
+\r
+He was as indifferent as heretofore to money matters, but now he felt\r
+certain of what ought and what ought not to be done. The first time he\r
+had recourse to his new judge was when a French prisoner, a colonel,\r
+came to him and, after talking a great deal about his exploits,\r
+concluded by making what amounted to a demand that Pierre should give\r
+him four thousand francs to send to his wife and children. Pierre\r
+refused without the least difficulty or effort, and was afterwards\r
+surprised how simple and easy had been what used to appear so\r
+insurmountably difficult. At the same time that he refused the colonel's\r
+demand he made up his mind that he must have recourse to artifice when\r
+leaving Orel, to induce the Italian officer to accept some money of\r
+which he was evidently in need. A further proof to Pierre of his own\r
+more settled outlook on practical matters was furnished by his decision\r
+with regard to his wife's debts and to the rebuilding of his houses in\r
+and near Moscow.\r
+\r
+His head steward came to him at Orel and Pierre reckoned up with him his\r
+diminished income. The burning of Moscow had cost him, according to the\r
+head steward's calculation, about two million rubles.\r
+\r
+To console Pierre for these losses the head steward gave him an estimate\r
+showing that despite these losses his income would not be diminished but\r
+would even be increased if he refused to pay his wife's debts which he\r
+was under no obligation to meet, and did not rebuild his Moscow house\r
+and the country house on his Moscow estate, which had cost him eighty\r
+thousand rubles a year and brought in nothing.\r
+\r
+"Yes, of course that's true," said Pierre with a cheerful smile. "I\r
+don't need all that at all. By being ruined I have become much richer."\r
+\r
+But in January Savelich came from Moscow and gave him an account of the\r
+state of things there, and spoke of the estimate an architect had made\r
+of the cost of rebuilding the town and country houses, speaking of this\r
+as of a settled matter. About the same time he received letters from\r
+Prince Vasili and other Petersburg acquaintances speaking of his wife's\r
+debts. And Pierre decided that the steward's proposals which had so\r
+pleased him were wrong and that he must go to Petersburg and settle his\r
+wife's affairs and must rebuild in Moscow. Why this was necessary he did\r
+not know, but he knew for certain that it was necessary. His income\r
+would be reduced by three fourths, but he felt it must be done.\r
+\r
+Willarski was going to Moscow and they agreed to travel together.\r
+\r
+During the whole time of his convalescence in Orel Pierre had\r
+experienced a feeling of joy, freedom, and life; but when during his\r
+journey he found himself in the open world and saw hundreds of new\r
+faces, that feeling was intensified. Throughout his journey he felt like\r
+a schoolboy on holiday. Everyone--the stagecoach driver, the post-house\r
+overseers, the peasants on the roads and in the villages--had a new\r
+significance for him. The presence and remarks of Willarski who\r
+continually deplored the ignorance and poverty of Russia and its\r
+backwardness compared with Europe only heightened Pierre's pleasure.\r
+Where Willarski saw deadness Pierre saw an extraordinary strength and\r
+vitality--the strength which in that vast space amid the snows\r
+maintained the life of this original, peculiar, and unique people. He\r
+did not contradict Willarski and even seemed to agree with him--an\r
+apparent agreement being the simplest way to avoid discussions that\r
+could lead to nothing--and he smiled joyfully as he listened to him.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIV\r
+\r
+It would be difficult to explain why and whither ants whose heap has\r
+been destroyed are hurrying: some from the heap dragging bits of\r
+rubbish, larvae, and corpses, others back to the heap, or why they\r
+jostle, overtake one another, and fight, and it would be equally\r
+difficult to explain what caused the Russians after the departure of the\r
+French to throng to the place that had formerly been Moscow. But when we\r
+watch the ants round their ruined heap, the tenacity, energy, and\r
+immense number of the delving insects prove that despite the destruction\r
+of the heap, something indestructible, which though intangible is the\r
+real strength of the colony, still exists; and similarly, though in\r
+Moscow in the month of October there was no government and no churches,\r
+shrines, riches, or houses--it was still the Moscow it had been in\r
+August. All was destroyed, except something intangible yet powerful and\r
+indestructible.\r
+\r
+The motives of those who thronged from all sides to Moscow after it had\r
+been cleared of the enemy were most diverse and personal, and at first\r
+for the most part savage and brutal. One motive only they all had in\r
+common: a desire to get to the place that had been called Moscow, to\r
+apply their activities there.\r
+\r
+Within a week Moscow already had fifteen thousand inhabitants, in a\r
+fortnight twenty-five thousand, and so on. By the autumn of 1813 the\r
+number, ever increasing and increasing, exceeded what it had been in\r
+1812.\r
+\r
+The first Russians to enter Moscow were the Cossacks of Wintzingerode's\r
+detachment, peasants from the adjacent villages, and residents who had\r
+fled from Moscow and had been hiding in its vicinity. The Russians who\r
+entered Moscow, finding it plundered, plundered it in their turn. They\r
+continued what the French had begun. Trains of peasant carts came to\r
+Moscow to carry off to the villages what had been abandoned in the\r
+ruined houses and the streets. The Cossacks carried off what they could\r
+to their camps, and the householders seized all they could find in other\r
+houses and moved it to their own, pretending that it was their property.\r
+\r
+But the first plunderers were followed by a second and a third\r
+contingent, and with increasing numbers plundering became more and more\r
+difficult and assumed more definite forms.\r
+\r
+The French found Moscow abandoned but with all the organizations of\r
+regular life, with diverse branches of commerce and craftsmanship, with\r
+luxury, and governmental and religious institutions. These forms were\r
+lifeless but still existed. There were bazaars, shops, warehouses,\r
+market stalls, granaries--for the most part still stocked with goods--\r
+and there were factories and workshops, palaces and wealthy houses\r
+filled with luxuries, hospitals, prisons, government offices, churches,\r
+and cathedrals. The longer the French remained the more these forms of\r
+town life perished, until finally all was merged into one confused,\r
+lifeless scene of plunder.\r
+\r
+The more the plundering by the French continued, the more both the\r
+wealth of Moscow and the strength of its plunderers was destroyed. But\r
+plundering by the Russians, with which the reoccupation of the city\r
+began, had an opposite effect: the longer it continued and the greater\r
+the number of people taking part in it the more rapidly was the wealth\r
+of the city and its regular life restored.\r
+\r
+Besides the plunderers, very various people, some drawn by curiosity,\r
+some by official duties, some by self-interest--house owners, clergy,\r
+officials of all kinds, tradesmen, artisans, and peasants--streamed into\r
+Moscow as blood flows to the heart.\r
+\r
+Within a week the peasants who came with empty carts to carry off\r
+plunder were stopped by the authorities and made to cart the corpses out\r
+of the town. Other peasants, having heard of their comrades'\r
+discomfiture, came to town bringing rye, oats, and hay, and beat down\r
+one another's prices to below what they had been in former days. Gangs\r
+of carpenters hoping for high pay arrived in Moscow every day, and on\r
+all sides logs were being hewn, new houses built, and old, charred ones\r
+repaired. Tradesmen began trading in booths. Cookshops and taverns were\r
+opened in partially burned houses. The clergy resumed the services in\r
+many churches that had not been burned. Donors contributed Church\r
+property that had been stolen. Government clerks set up their baize-\r
+covered tables and their pigeonholes of documents in small rooms. The\r
+higher authorities and the police organized the distribution of goods\r
+left behind by the French. The owners of houses in which much property\r
+had been left, brought there from other houses, complained of the\r
+injustice of taking everything to the Faceted Palace in the Kremlin;\r
+others insisted that as the French had gathered things from different\r
+houses into this or that house, it would be unfair to allow its owner to\r
+keep all that was found there. They abused the police and bribed them,\r
+made out estimates at ten times their value for government stores that\r
+had perished in the fire, and demanded relief. And Count Rostopchin\r
+wrote proclamations.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XV\r
+\r
+At the end of January Pierre went to Moscow and stayed in an annex of\r
+his house which had not been burned. He called on Count Rostopchin and\r
+on some acquaintances who were back in Moscow, and he intended to leave\r
+for Petersburg two days later. Everybody was celebrating the victory,\r
+everything was bubbling with life in the ruined but reviving city.\r
+Everyone was pleased to see Pierre, everyone wished to meet him, and\r
+everyone questioned him about what he had seen. Pierre felt particularly\r
+well disposed toward them all, but was now instinctively on his guard\r
+for fear of binding himself in any way. To all questions put to him--\r
+whether important or quite trifling--such as: Where would he live? Was\r
+he going to rebuild? When was he going to Petersburg and would he mind\r
+taking a parcel for someone?--he replied: "Yes, perhaps," or, "I think\r
+so," and so on.\r
+\r
+He had heard that the Rostovs were at Kostroma but the thought of\r
+Natasha seldom occurred to him. If it did it was only as a pleasant\r
+memory of the distant past. He felt himself not only free from social\r
+obligations but also from that feeling which, it seemed to him, he had\r
+aroused in himself.\r
+\r
+On the third day after his arrival he heard from the Drubetskoys that\r
+Princess Mary was in Moscow. The death, sufferings, and last days of\r
+Prince Andrew had often occupied Pierre's thoughts and now recurred to\r
+him with fresh vividness. Having heard at dinner that Princess Mary was\r
+in Moscow and living in her house--which had not been burned--in\r
+Vozdvizhenka Street, he drove that same evening to see her.\r
+\r
+On his way to the house Pierre kept thinking of Prince Andrew, of their\r
+friendship, of his various meetings with him, and especially of the last\r
+one at Borodino.\r
+\r
+"Is it possible that he died in the bitter frame of mind he was then in?\r
+Is it possible that the meaning of life was not disclosed to him before\r
+he died?" thought Pierre. He recalled Karataev and his death and\r
+involuntarily began to compare these two men, so different, and yet so\r
+similar in that they had both lived and both died and in the love he\r
+felt for both of them.\r
+\r
+Pierre drove up to the house of the old prince in a most serious mood.\r
+The house had escaped the fire; it showed signs of damage but its\r
+general aspect was unchanged. The old footman, who met Pierre with a\r
+stern face as if wishing to make the visitor feel that the absence of\r
+the old prince had not disturbed the order of things in the house,\r
+informed him that the princess had gone to her own apartments, and that\r
+she received on Sundays.\r
+\r
+"Announce me. Perhaps she will see me," said Pierre.\r
+\r
+"Yes, sir," said the man. "Please step into the portrait gallery."\r
+\r
+A few minutes later the footman returned with Dessalles, who brought\r
+word from the princess that she would be very glad to see Pierre if he\r
+would excuse her want of ceremony and come upstairs to her apartment.\r
+\r
+In a rather low room lit by one candle sat the princess and with her\r
+another person dressed in black. Pierre remembered that the princess\r
+always had lady companions, but who they were and what they were like he\r
+never knew or remembered. "This must be one of her companions," he\r
+thought, glancing at the lady in the black dress.\r
+\r
+The princess rose quickly to meet him and held out her hand.\r
+\r
+"Yes," she said, looking at his altered face after he had kissed her\r
+hand, "so this is how we meet again. He spoke of you even at the very\r
+last," she went on, turning her eyes from Pierre to her companion with a\r
+shyness that surprised him for an instant.\r
+\r
+"I was so glad to hear of your safety. It was the first piece of good\r
+news we had received for a long time."\r
+\r
+Again the princess glanced round at her companion with even more\r
+uneasiness in her manner and was about to add something, but Pierre\r
+interrupted her.\r
+\r
+"Just imagine--I knew nothing about him!" said he. "I thought he had\r
+been killed. All I know I heard at second hand from others. I only know\r
+that he fell in with the Rostovs.... What a strange coincidence!"\r
+\r
+Pierre spoke rapidly and with animation. He glanced once at the\r
+companion's face, saw her attentive and kindly gaze fixed on him, and,\r
+as often happens when one is talking, felt somehow that this companion\r
+in the black dress was a good, kind, excellent creature who would not\r
+hinder his conversing freely with Princess Mary.\r
+\r
+But when he mentioned the Rostovs, Princess Mary's face expressed still\r
+greater embarrassment. She again glanced rapidly from Pierre's face to\r
+that of the lady in the black dress and said:\r
+\r
+"Do you really not recognize her?"\r
+\r
+Pierre looked again at the companion's pale, delicate face with its\r
+black eyes and peculiar mouth, and something near to him, long forgotten\r
+and more than sweet, looked at him from those attentive eyes.\r
+\r
+"But no, it can't be!" he thought. "This stern, thin, pale face that\r
+looks so much older! It cannot be she. It merely reminds me of her." But\r
+at that moment Princess Mary said, "Natasha!" And with difficulty,\r
+effort, and stress, like the opening of a door grown rusty on its\r
+hinges, a smile appeared on the face with the attentive eyes, and from\r
+that opening door came a breath of fragrance which suffused Pierre with\r
+a happiness he had long forgotten and of which he had not even been\r
+thinking--especially at that moment. It suffused him, seized him, and\r
+enveloped him completely. When she smiled doubt was no longer possible,\r
+it was Natasha and he loved her.\r
+\r
+At that moment Pierre involuntarily betrayed to her, to Princess Mary,\r
+and above all to himself, a secret of which he himself had been unaware.\r
+He flushed joyfully yet with painful distress. He tried to hide his\r
+agitation. But the more he tried to hide it the more clearly--clearer\r
+than any words could have done--did he betray to himself, to her, and to\r
+Princess Mary that he loved her.\r
+\r
+"No, it's only the unexpectedness of it," thought Pierre. But as soon as\r
+he tried to continue the conversation he had begun with Princess Mary he\r
+again glanced at Natasha, and a still-deeper flush suffused his face and\r
+a still-stronger agitation of mingled joy and fear seized his soul. He\r
+became confused in his speech and stopped in the middle of what he was\r
+saying.\r
+\r
+Pierre had failed to notice Natasha because he did not at all expect to\r
+see her there, but he had failed to recognize her because the change in\r
+her since he last saw her was immense. She had grown thin and pale, but\r
+that was not what made her unrecognizable; she was unrecognizable at the\r
+moment he entered because on that face whose eyes had always shone with\r
+a suppressed smile of the joy of life, now when he first entered and\r
+glanced at her there was not the least shadow of a smile: only her eyes\r
+were kindly attentive and sadly interrogative.\r
+\r
+Pierre's confusion was not reflected by any confusion on Natasha's part,\r
+but only by the pleasure that just perceptibly lit up her whole face.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVI\r
+\r
+"She has come to stay with me," said Princess Mary. "The count and\r
+countess will be here in a few days. The countess is in a dreadful\r
+state; but it was necessary for Natasha herself to see a doctor. They\r
+insisted on her coming with me."\r
+\r
+"Yes, is there a family free from sorrow now?" said Pierre, addressing\r
+Natasha. "You know it happened the very day we were rescued. I saw him.\r
+What a delightful boy he was!"\r
+\r
+Natasha looked at him, and by way of answer to his words her eyes\r
+widened and lit up.\r
+\r
+"What can one say or think of as a consolation?" said Pierre. "Nothing!\r
+Why had such a splendid boy, so full of life, to die?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, in these days it would be hard to live without faith..." remarked\r
+Princess Mary.\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes, that is really true," Pierre hastily interrupted her.\r
+\r
+"Why is it true?" Natasha asked, looking attentively into Pierre's eyes.\r
+\r
+"How can you ask why?" said Princess Mary. "The thought alone of what\r
+awaits..."\r
+\r
+Natasha without waiting for Princess Mary to finish again looked\r
+inquiringly at Pierre.\r
+\r
+"And because," Pierre continued, "only one who believes that there is a\r
+God ruling us can bear a loss such as hers and... yours."\r
+\r
+Natasha had already opened her mouth to speak but suddenly stopped.\r
+Pierre hurriedly turned away from her and again addressed Princess Mary,\r
+asking about his friend's last days.\r
+\r
+Pierre's confusion had now almost vanished, but at the same time he felt\r
+that his freedom had also completely gone. He felt that there was now a\r
+judge of his every word and action whose judgment mattered more to him\r
+than that of all the rest of the world. As he spoke now he was\r
+considering what impression his words would make on Natasha. He did not\r
+purposely say things to please her, but whatever he was saying he\r
+regarded from her standpoint.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary--reluctantly as is usual in such cases--began telling of\r
+the condition in which she had found Prince Andrew. But Pierre's face\r
+quivering with emotion, his questions and his eager restless expression,\r
+gradually compelled her to go into details which she feared to recall\r
+for her own sake.\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes, and so...?" Pierre kept saying as he leaned toward her with\r
+his whole body and eagerly listened to her story. "Yes, yes... so he\r
+grew tranquil and softened? With all his soul he had always sought one\r
+thing--to be perfectly good--so he could not be afraid of death. The\r
+faults he had--if he had any--were not of his making. So he did\r
+soften?... What a happy thing that he saw you again," he added, suddenly\r
+turning to Natasha and looking at her with eyes full of tears.\r
+\r
+Natasha's face twitched. She frowned and lowered her eyes for a moment.\r
+She hesitated for an instant whether to speak or not.\r
+\r
+"Yes, that was happiness," she then said in her quiet voice with its\r
+deep chest notes. "For me it certainly was happiness." She paused. "And\r
+he... he... he said he was wishing for it at the very moment I entered\r
+the room...."\r
+\r
+Natasha's voice broke. She blushed, pressed her clasped hands on her\r
+knees, and then controlling herself with an evident effort lifted her\r
+head and began to speak rapidly.\r
+\r
+"We knew nothing of it when we started from Moscow. I did not dare to\r
+ask about him. Then suddenly Sonya told me he was traveling with us. I\r
+had no idea and could not imagine what state he was in, all I wanted was\r
+to see him and be with him," she said, trembling, and breathing quickly.\r
+\r
+And not letting them interrupt her she went on to tell what she had\r
+never yet mentioned to anyone--all she had lived through during those\r
+three weeks of their journey and life at Yaroslavl.\r
+\r
+Pierre listened to her with lips parted and eyes fixed upon her full of\r
+tears. As he listened he did not think of Prince Andrew, nor of death,\r
+nor of what she was telling. He listened to her and felt only pity for\r
+her, for what she was suffering now while she was speaking.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary, frowning in her effort to hold back her tears, sat beside\r
+Natasha, and heard for the first time the story of those last days of\r
+her brother's and Natasha's love.\r
+\r
+Evidently Natasha needed to tell that painful yet joyful tale.\r
+\r
+She spoke, mingling most trifling details with the intimate secrets of\r
+her soul, and it seemed as if she could never finish. Several times she\r
+repeated the same thing twice.\r
+\r
+Dessalles' voice was heard outside the door asking whether little\r
+Nicholas might come in to say good night.\r
+\r
+"Well, that's all--everything," said Natasha.\r
+\r
+She got up quickly just as Nicholas entered, almost ran to the door\r
+which was hidden by curtains, struck her head against it, and rushed\r
+from the room with a moan either of pain or sorrow.\r
+\r
+Pierre gazed at the door through which she had disappeared and did not\r
+understand why he suddenly felt all alone in the world.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary roused him from his abstraction by drawing his attention\r
+to her nephew who had entered the room.\r
+\r
+At that moment of emotional tenderness young Nicholas' face, which\r
+resembled his father's, affected Pierre so much that when he had kissed\r
+the boy he got up quickly, took out his handkerchief, and went to the\r
+window. He wished to take leave of Princess Mary, but she would not let\r
+him go.\r
+\r
+"No, Natasha and I sometimes don't go to sleep till after two, so please\r
+don't go. I will order supper. Go downstairs, we will come immediately."\r
+\r
+Before Pierre left the room Princess Mary told him: "This is the first\r
+time she has talked of him like that."\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVII\r
+\r
+Pierre was shown into the large, brightly lit dining room; a few minutes\r
+later he heard footsteps and Princess Mary entered with Natasha. Natasha\r
+was calm, though a severe and grave expression had again settled on her\r
+face. They all three of them now experienced that feeling of awkwardness\r
+which usually follows after a serious and heartfelt talk. It is\r
+impossible to go back to the same conversation, to talk of trifles is\r
+awkward, and yet the desire to speak is there and silence seems like\r
+affectation. They went silently to table. The footmen drew back the\r
+chairs and pushed them up again. Pierre unfolded his cold table napkin\r
+and, resolving to break the silence, looked at Natasha and at Princess\r
+Mary. They had evidently both formed the same resolution; the eyes of\r
+both shone with satisfaction and a confession that besides sorrow life\r
+also has joy.\r
+\r
+"Do you take vodka, Count?" asked Princess Mary, and those words\r
+suddenly banished the shadows of the past. "Now tell us about yourself,"\r
+said she. "One hears such improbable wonders about you."\r
+\r
+"Yes," replied Pierre with the smile of mild irony now habitual to him.\r
+"They even tell me wonders I myself never dreamed of! Mary Abramovna\r
+invited me to her house and kept telling me what had happened, or ought\r
+to have happened, to me. Stepan Stepanych also instructed me how I ought\r
+to tell of my experiences. In general I have noticed that it is very\r
+easy to be an interesting man (I am an interesting man now); people\r
+invite me out and tell me all about myself."\r
+\r
+Natasha smiled and was on the point of speaking.\r
+\r
+"We have been told," Princess Mary interrupted her, "that you lost two\r
+millions in Moscow. Is that true?"\r
+\r
+"But I am three times as rich as before," returned Pierre.\r
+\r
+Though the position was now altered by his decision to pay his wife's\r
+debts and to rebuild his houses, Pierre still maintained that he had\r
+become three times as rich as before.\r
+\r
+"What I have certainly gained is freedom," he began seriously, but did\r
+not continue, noticing that this theme was too egotistic.\r
+\r
+"And are you building?"\r
+\r
+"Yes. Savelich says I must!"\r
+\r
+"Tell me, you did not know of the countess' death when you decided to\r
+remain in Moscow?" asked Princess Mary and immediately blushed, noticing\r
+that her question, following his mention of freedom, ascribed to his\r
+words a meaning he had perhaps not intended.\r
+\r
+"No," answered Pierre, evidently not considering awkward the meaning\r
+Princess Mary had given to his words. "I heard of it in Orel and you\r
+cannot imagine how it shocked me. We were not an exemplary couple," he\r
+added quickly, glancing at Natasha and noticing on her face curiosity as\r
+to how he would speak of his wife, "but her death shocked me terribly.\r
+When two people quarrel they are always both in fault, and one's own\r
+guilt suddenly becomes terribly serious when the other is no longer\r
+alive. And then such a death... without friends and without consolation!\r
+I am very, very sorry for her," he concluded, and was pleased to notice\r
+a look of glad approval on Natasha's face.\r
+\r
+"Yes, and so you are once more an eligible bachelor," said Princess\r
+Mary.\r
+\r
+Pierre suddenly flushed crimson and for a long time tried not to look at\r
+Natasha. When he ventured to glance her way again her face was cold,\r
+stern, and he fancied even contemptuous.\r
+\r
+"And did you really see and speak to Napoleon, as we have been told?"\r
+said Princess Mary.\r
+\r
+Pierre laughed.\r
+\r
+"No, not once! Everybody seems to imagine that being taken prisoner\r
+means being Napoleon's guest. Not only did I never see him but I heard\r
+nothing about him--I was in much lower company!"\r
+\r
+Supper was over, and Pierre who at first declined to speak about his\r
+captivity was gradually led on to do so.\r
+\r
+"But it's true that you remained in Moscow to kill Napoleon?" Natasha\r
+asked with a slight smile. "I guessed it then when we met at the\r
+Sukharev tower, do you remember?"\r
+\r
+Pierre admitted that it was true, and from that was gradually led by\r
+Princess Mary's questions and especially by Natasha's into giving a\r
+detailed account of his adventures.\r
+\r
+At first he spoke with the amused and mild irony now customary with him\r
+toward everybody and especially toward himself, but when he came to\r
+describe the horrors and sufferings he had witnessed he was\r
+unconsciously carried away and began speaking with the suppressed\r
+emotion of a man re-experiencing in recollection strong impressions he\r
+has lived through.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary with a gentle smile looked now at Pierre and now at\r
+Natasha. In the whole narrative she saw only Pierre and his goodness.\r
+Natasha, leaning on her elbow, the expression of her face constantly\r
+changing with the narrative, watched Pierre with an attention that never\r
+wandered--evidently herself experiencing all that he described. Not only\r
+her look, but her exclamations and the brief questions she put, showed\r
+Pierre that she understood just what he wished to convey. It was clear\r
+that she understood not only what he said but also what he wished to,\r
+but could not, express in words. The account Pierre gave of the incident\r
+with the child and the woman for protecting whom he was arrested was\r
+this: "It was an awful sight--children abandoned, some in the flames...\r
+One was snatched out before my eyes... and there were women who had\r
+their things snatched off and their earrings torn out..." he flushed and\r
+grew confused. "Then a patrol arrived and all the men--all those who\r
+were not looting, that is--were arrested, and I among them."\r
+\r
+"I am sure you're not telling us everything; I am sure you did\r
+something..." said Natasha and pausing added, "something fine?"\r
+\r
+Pierre continued. When he spoke of the execution he wanted to pass over\r
+the horrible details, but Natasha insisted that he should not omit\r
+anything.\r
+\r
+Pierre began to tell about Karataev, but paused. By this time he had\r
+risen from the table and was pacing the room, Natasha following him with\r
+her eyes. Then he added:\r
+\r
+"No, you can't understand what I learned from that illiterate man--that\r
+simple fellow."\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes, go on!" said Natasha. "Where is he?"\r
+\r
+"They killed him almost before my eyes."\r
+\r
+And Pierre, his voice trembling continually, went on to tell of the last\r
+days of their retreat, of Karataev's illness and his death.\r
+\r
+He told of his adventures as he had never yet recalled them. He now, as\r
+it were, saw a new meaning in all he had gone through. Now that he was\r
+telling it all to Natasha he experienced that pleasure which a man has\r
+when women listen to him--not clever women who when listening either try\r
+to remember what they hear to enrich their minds and when opportunity\r
+offers to retell it, or who wish to adopt it to some thought of their\r
+own and promptly contribute their own clever comments prepared in their\r
+little mental workshop--but the pleasure given by real women gifted with\r
+a capacity to select and absorb the very best a man shows of himself.\r
+Natasha without knowing it was all attention: she did not lose a word,\r
+no single quiver in Pierre's voice, no look, no twitch of a muscle in\r
+his face, nor a single gesture. She caught the unfinished word in its\r
+flight and took it straight into her open heart, divining the secret\r
+meaning of all Pierre's mental travail.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary understood his story and sympathized with him, but she now\r
+saw something else that absorbed all her attention. She saw the\r
+possibility of love and happiness between Natasha and Pierre, and the\r
+first thought of this filled her heart with gladness.\r
+\r
+It was three o'clock in the morning. The footmen came in with sad and\r
+stern faces to change the candles, but no one noticed them.\r
+\r
+Pierre finished his story. Natasha continued to look at him intently\r
+with bright, attentive, and animated eyes, as if trying to understand\r
+something more which he had perhaps left untold. Pierre in shamefaced\r
+and happy confusion glanced occasionally at her, and tried to think what\r
+to say next to introduce a fresh subject. Princess Mary was silent. It\r
+occurred to none of them that it was three o'clock and time to go to\r
+bed.\r
+\r
+"People speak of misfortunes and sufferings," remarked Pierre, "but if\r
+at this moment I were asked: 'Would you rather be what you were before\r
+you were taken prisoner, or go through all this again?' then for\r
+heaven's sake let me again have captivity and horseflesh! We imagine\r
+that when we are thrown out of our usual ruts all is lost, but it is\r
+only then that what is new and good begins. While there is life there is\r
+happiness. There is much, much before us. I say this to you," he added,\r
+turning to Natasha.\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes," she said, answering something quite different. "I too should\r
+wish nothing but to relive it all from the beginning."\r
+\r
+Pierre looked intently at her.\r
+\r
+"Yes, and nothing more," said Natasha.\r
+\r
+"It's not true, not true!" cried Pierre. "I am not to blame for being\r
+alive and wishing to live--nor you either."\r
+\r
+Suddenly Natasha bent her head, covered her face with her hands, and\r
+began to cry.\r
+\r
+"What is it, Natasha?" said Princess Mary.\r
+\r
+"Nothing, nothing." She smiled at Pierre through her tears. "Good night!\r
+It is time for bed."\r
+\r
+Pierre rose and took his leave.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary and Natasha met as usual in the bedroom. They talked of\r
+what Pierre had told them. Princess Mary did not express her opinion of\r
+Pierre nor did Natasha speak of him.\r
+\r
+"Well, good night, Mary!" said Natasha. "Do you know, I am often afraid\r
+that by not speaking of him" (she meant Prince Andrew) "for fear of not\r
+doing justice to our feelings, we forget him."\r
+\r
+Princess Mary sighed deeply and thereby acknowledged the justice of\r
+Natasha's remark, but she did not express agreement in words.\r
+\r
+"Is it possible to forget?" said she.\r
+\r
+"It did me so much good to tell all about it today. It was hard and\r
+painful, but good, very good!" said Natasha. "I am sure he really loved\r
+him. That is why I told him... Was it all right?" she added, suddenly\r
+blushing.\r
+\r
+"To tell Pierre? Oh, yes. What a splendid man he is!" said Princess\r
+Mary.\r
+\r
+"Do you know, Mary..." Natasha suddenly said with a mischievous smile\r
+such as Princess Mary had not seen on her face for a long time, "he has\r
+somehow grown so clean, smooth, and fresh--as if he had just come out of\r
+a Russian bath; do you understand? Out of a moral bath. Isn't it true?"\r
+\r
+"Yes," replied Princess Mary. "He has greatly improved."\r
+\r
+"With a short coat and his hair cropped; just as if, well, just as if he\r
+had come straight from the bath... Papa used to..."\r
+\r
+"I understand why he" (Prince Andrew) "liked no one so much as him,"\r
+said Princess Mary.\r
+\r
+"Yes, and yet he is quite different. They say men are friends when they\r
+are quite different. That must be true. Really he is quite unlike him--\r
+in everything."\r
+\r
+"Yes, but he's wonderful."\r
+\r
+"Well, good night," said Natasha.\r
+\r
+And the same mischievous smile lingered for a long time on her face as\r
+if it had been forgotten there.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVIII\r
+\r
+It was a long time before Pierre could fall asleep that night. He paced\r
+up and down his room, now turning his thoughts on a difficult problem\r
+and frowning, now suddenly shrugging his shoulders and wincing, and now\r
+smiling happily.\r
+\r
+He was thinking of Prince Andrew, of Natasha, and of their love, at one\r
+moment jealous of her past, then reproaching himself for that feeling.\r
+It was already six in the morning and he still paced up and down the\r
+room.\r
+\r
+"Well, what's to be done if it cannot be avoided? What's to be done?\r
+Evidently it has to be so," said he to himself, and hastily undressing\r
+he got into bed, happy and agitated but free from hesitation or\r
+indecision.\r
+\r
+"Strange and impossible as such happiness seems, I must do everything\r
+that she and I may be man and wife," he told himself.\r
+\r
+A few days previously Pierre had decided to go to Petersburg on the\r
+Friday. When he awoke on the Thursday, Savelich came to ask him about\r
+packing for the journey.\r
+\r
+"What, to Petersburg? What is Petersburg? Who is there in Petersburg?"\r
+he asked involuntarily, though only to himself. "Oh, yes, long ago\r
+before this happened I did for some reason mean to go to Petersburg," he\r
+reflected. "Why? But perhaps I shall go. What a good fellow he is and\r
+how attentive, and how he remembers everything," he thought, looking at\r
+Savelich's old face, "and what a pleasant smile he has!"\r
+\r
+"Well, Savelich, do you still not wish to accept your freedom?" Pierre\r
+asked him.\r
+\r
+"What's the good of freedom to me, your excellency? We lived under the\r
+late count--the kingdom of heaven be his!--and we have lived under you\r
+too, without ever being wronged."\r
+\r
+"And your children?"\r
+\r
+"The children will live just the same. With such masters one can live."\r
+\r
+"But what about my heirs?" said Pierre. "Supposing I suddenly marry...\r
+it might happen," he added with an involuntary smile.\r
+\r
+"If I may take the liberty, your excellency, it would be a good thing."\r
+\r
+"How easy he thinks it," thought Pierre. "He doesn't know how terrible\r
+it is and how dangerous. Too soon or too late... it is terrible!"\r
+\r
+"So what are your orders? Are you starting tomorrow?" asked Savelich.\r
+\r
+"No, I'll put it off for a bit. I'll tell you later. You must forgive\r
+the trouble I have put you to," said Pierre, and seeing Savelich smile,\r
+he thought: "But how strange it is that he should not know that now\r
+there is no Petersburg for me, and that that must be settled first of\r
+all! But probably he knows it well enough and is only pretending. Shall\r
+I have a talk with him and see what he thinks?" Pierre reflected. "No,\r
+another time."\r
+\r
+At breakfast Pierre told the princess, his cousin, that he had been to\r
+see Princess Mary the day before and had there met--"Whom do you think?\r
+Natasha Rostova!"\r
+\r
+The princess seemed to see nothing more extraordinary in that than if he\r
+had seen Anna Semenovna.\r
+\r
+"Do you know her?" asked Pierre.\r
+\r
+"I have seen the princess," she replied. "I heard that they were\r
+arranging a match for her with young Rostov. It would be a very good\r
+thing for the Rostovs, they are said to be utterly ruined."\r
+\r
+"No; I mean do you know Natasha Rostova?"\r
+\r
+"I heard about that affair of hers at the time. It was a great pity."\r
+\r
+"No, she either doesn't understand or is pretending," thought Pierre.\r
+"Better not say anything to her either."\r
+\r
+The princess too had prepared provisions for Pierre's journey.\r
+\r
+"How kind they all are," thought Pierre. "What is surprising is that\r
+they should trouble about these things now when it can no longer be of\r
+interest to them. And all for me!"\r
+\r
+On the same day the Chief of Police came to Pierre, inviting him to send\r
+a representative to the Faceted Palace to recover things that were to be\r
+returned to their owners that day.\r
+\r
+"And this man too," thought Pierre, looking into the face of the Chief\r
+of Police. "What a fine, good-looking officer and how kind. Fancy\r
+bothering about such trifles now! And they actually say he is not honest\r
+and takes bribes. What nonsense! Besides, why shouldn't he take bribes?\r
+That's the way he was brought up, and everybody does it. But what a\r
+kind, pleasant face and how he smiles as he looks at me."\r
+\r
+Pierre went to Princess Mary's to dinner.\r
+\r
+As he drove through the streets past the houses that had been burned\r
+down, he was surprised by the beauty of those ruins. The picturesqueness\r
+of the chimney stacks and tumble-down walls of the burned-out quarters\r
+of the town, stretching out and concealing one another, reminded him of\r
+the Rhine and the Colosseum. The cabmen he met and their passengers, the\r
+carpenters cutting the timber for new houses with axes, the women\r
+hawkers, and the shopkeepers, all looked at him with cheerful beaming\r
+eyes that seemed to say: "Ah, there he is! Let's see what will come of\r
+it!"\r
+\r
+At the entrance to Princess Mary's house Pierre felt doubtful whether he\r
+had really been there the night before and really seen Natasha and\r
+talked to her. "Perhaps I imagined it; perhaps I shall go in and find no\r
+one there." But he had hardly entered the room before he felt her\r
+presence with his whole being by the loss of his sense of freedom. She\r
+was in the same black dress with soft folds and her hair was done the\r
+same way as the day before, yet she was quite different. Had she been\r
+like this when he entered the day before he could not for a moment have\r
+failed to recognize her.\r
+\r
+She was as he had known her almost as a child and later on as Prince\r
+Andrew's fiancee. A bright questioning light shone in her eyes, and on\r
+her face was a friendly and strangely roguish expression.\r
+\r
+Pierre dined with them and would have spent the whole evening there, but\r
+Princess Mary was going to vespers and Pierre left the house with her.\r
+\r
+Next day he came early, dined, and stayed the whole evening. Though\r
+Princess Mary and Natasha were evidently glad to see their visitor and\r
+though all Pierre's interest was now centered in that house, by the\r
+evening they had talked over everything and the conversation passed from\r
+one trivial topic to another and repeatedly broke off. He stayed so long\r
+that Princess Mary and Natasha exchanged glances, evidently wondering\r
+when he would go. Pierre noticed this but could not go. He felt uneasy\r
+and embarrassed, but sat on because he simply could not get up and take\r
+his leave.\r
+\r
+Princess Mary, foreseeing no end to this, rose first, and complaining of\r
+a headache began to say good night.\r
+\r
+"So you are going to Petersburg tomorrow?" she asked.\r
+\r
+"No, I am not going," Pierre replied hastily, in a surprised tone and as\r
+though offended. "Yes... no... to Petersburg? Tomorrow--but I won't say\r
+good-by yet. I will call round in case you have any commissions for me,"\r
+said he, standing before Princess Mary and turning red, but not taking\r
+his departure.\r
+\r
+Natasha gave him her hand and went out. Princess Mary on the other hand\r
+instead of going away sank into an armchair, and looked sternly and\r
+intently at him with her deep, radiant eyes. The weariness she had\r
+plainly shown before had now quite passed off. With a deep and long-\r
+drawn sigh she seemed to be prepared for a lengthy talk.\r
+\r
+When Natasha left the room Pierre's confusion and awkwardness\r
+immediately vanished and were replaced by eager excitement. He quickly\r
+moved an armchair toward Princess Mary.\r
+\r
+"Yes, I wanted to tell you," said he, answering her look as if she had\r
+spoken. "Princess, help me! What am I to do? Can I hope? Princess, my\r
+dear friend, listen! I know it all. I know I am not worthy of her, I\r
+know it's impossible to speak of it now. But I want to be a brother to\r
+her. No, not that, I don't, I can't..."\r
+\r
+He paused and rubbed his face and eyes with his hands.\r
+\r
+"Well," he went on with an evident effort at self-control and coherence.\r
+"I don't know when I began to love her, but I have loved her and her\r
+alone all my life, and I love her so that I cannot imagine life without\r
+her. I cannot propose to her at present, but the thought that perhaps\r
+she might someday be my wife and that I may be missing that\r
+possibility... that possibility... is terrible. Tell me, can I hope?\r
+Tell me what I am to do, dear princess!" he added after a pause, and\r
+touched her hand as she did not reply.\r
+\r
+"I am thinking of what you have told me," answered Princess Mary. "This\r
+is what I will say. You are right that to speak to her of love at\r
+present..."\r
+\r
+Princess Mary stopped. She was going to say that to speak of love was\r
+impossible, but she stopped because she had seen by the sudden change in\r
+Natasha two days before that she would not only not be hurt if Pierre\r
+spoke of his love, but that it was the very thing she wished for.\r
+\r
+"To speak to her now wouldn't do," said the princess all the same.\r
+\r
+"But what am I to do?"\r
+\r
+"Leave it to me," said Princess Mary. "I know..."\r
+\r
+Pierre was looking into Princess Mary's eyes.\r
+\r
+"Well?... Well?..." he said.\r
+\r
+"I know that she loves... will love you," Princess Mary corrected\r
+herself.\r
+\r
+Before her words were out, Pierre had sprung up and with a frightened\r
+expression seized Princess Mary's hand.\r
+\r
+"What makes you think so? You think I may hope? You think...?"\r
+\r
+"Yes, I think so," said Princess Mary with a smile. "Write to her\r
+parents, and leave it to me. I will tell her when I can. I wish it to\r
+happen and my heart tells me it will."\r
+\r
+"No, it cannot be! How happy I am! But it can't be.... How happy I am!\r
+No, it can't be!" Pierre kept saying as he kissed Princess Mary's hands.\r
+\r
+"Go to Petersburg, that will be best. And I will write to you," she\r
+said.\r
+\r
+"To Petersburg? Go there? Very well, I'll go. But I may come again\r
+tomorrow?"\r
+\r
+Next day Pierre came to say good-by. Natasha was less animated than she\r
+had been the day before; but that day as he looked at her Pierre\r
+sometimes felt as if he was vanishing and that neither he nor she\r
+existed any longer, that nothing existed but happiness. "Is it possible?\r
+No, it can't be," he told himself at every look, gesture, and word that\r
+filled his soul with joy.\r
+\r
+When on saying good-by he took her thin, slender hand, he could not help\r
+holding it a little longer in his own.\r
+\r
+"Is it possible that this hand, that face, those eyes, all this treasure\r
+of feminine charm so strange to me now, is it possible that it will one\r
+day be mine forever, as familiar to me as I am to myself?... No, that's\r
+impossible!..."\r
+\r
+"Good-bye, Count," she said aloud. "I shall look forward very much to\r
+your return," she added in a whisper.\r
+\r
+And these simple words, her look, and the expression on her face which\r
+accompanied them, formed for two months the subject of inexhaustible\r
+memories, interpretations, and happy meditations for Pierre. "'I shall\r
+look forward very much to your return....' Yes, yes, how did she say it?\r
+Yes, 'I shall look forward very much to your return.' Oh, how happy I\r
+am! What is happening to me? How happy I am!" said Pierre to himself.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIX\r
+\r
+There was nothing in Pierre's soul now at all like what had troubled it\r
+during his courtship of Helene.\r
+\r
+He did not repeat to himself with a sickening feeling of shame the words\r
+he had spoken, or say: "Oh, why did I not say that?" and, "Whatever made\r
+me say 'Je vous aime'?" On the contrary, he now repeated in imagination\r
+every word that he or Natasha had spoken and pictured every detail of\r
+her face and smile, and did not wish to diminish or add anything, but\r
+only to repeat it again and again. There was now not a shadow of doubt\r
+in his mind as to whether what he had undertaken was right or wrong.\r
+Only one terrible doubt sometimes crossed his mind: "Wasn't it all a\r
+dream? Isn't Princess Mary mistaken? Am I not too conceited and self-\r
+confident? I believe all this--and suddenly Princess Mary will tell her,\r
+and she will be sure to smile and say: 'How strange! He must be deluding\r
+himself. Doesn't he know that he is a man, just a man, while I...? I am\r
+something altogether different and higher.'"\r
+\r
+That was the only doubt often troubling Pierre. He did not now make any\r
+plans. The happiness before him appeared so inconceivable that if only\r
+he could attain it, it would be the end of all things. Everything ended\r
+with that.\r
+\r
+A joyful, unexpected frenzy, of which he had thought himself incapable,\r
+possessed him. The whole meaning of life--not for him alone but for the\r
+whole world--seemed to him centered in his love and the possibility of\r
+being loved by her. At times everybody seemed to him to be occupied with\r
+one thing only--his future happiness. Sometimes it seemed to him that\r
+other people were all as pleased as he was himself and merely tried to\r
+hide that pleasure by pretending to be busy with other interests. In\r
+every word and gesture he saw allusions to his happiness. He often\r
+surprised those he met by his significantly happy looks and smiles which\r
+seemed to express a secret understanding between him and them. And when\r
+he realized that people might not be aware of his happiness, he pitied\r
+them with his whole heart and felt a desire somehow to explain to them\r
+that all that occupied them was a mere frivolous trifle unworthy of\r
+attention.\r
+\r
+When it was suggested to him that he should enter the civil service, or\r
+when the war or any general political affairs were discussed on the\r
+assumption that everybody's welfare depended on this or that issue of\r
+events, he would listen with a mild and pitying smile and surprise\r
+people by his strange comments. But at this time he saw everybody--both\r
+those who, as he imagined, understood the real meaning of life (that is,\r
+what he was feeling) and those unfortunates who evidently did not\r
+understand it--in the bright light of the emotion that shone within\r
+himself, and at once without any effort saw in everyone he met\r
+everything that was good and worthy of being loved.\r
+\r
+When dealing with the affairs and papers of his dead wife, her memory\r
+aroused in him no feeling but pity that she had not known the bliss he\r
+now knew. Prince Vasili, who having obtained a new post and some fresh\r
+decorations was particularly proud at this time, seemed to him a\r
+pathetic, kindly old man much to be pitied.\r
+\r
+Often in afterlife Pierre recalled this period of blissful insanity. All\r
+the views he formed of men and circumstances at this time remained true\r
+for him always. He not only did not renounce them subsequently, but when\r
+he was in doubt or inwardly at variance, he referred to the views he had\r
+held at this time of his madness and they always proved correct.\r
+\r
+"I may have appeared strange and queer then," he thought, "but I was not\r
+so mad as I seemed. On the contrary I was then wiser and had more\r
+insight than at any other time, and understood all that is worth\r
+understanding in life, because... because I was happy."\r
+\r
+Pierre's insanity consisted in not waiting, as he used to do, to\r
+discover personal attributes which he termed "good qualities" in people\r
+before loving them; his heart was now overflowing with love, and by\r
+loving people without cause he discovered indubitable causes for loving\r
+them.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XX\r
+\r
+After Pierre's departure that first evening, when Natasha had said to\r
+Princess Mary with a gaily mocking smile: "He looks just, yes, just as\r
+if he had come out of a Russian bath--in a short coat and with his hair\r
+cropped," something hidden and unknown to herself, but irrepressible,\r
+awoke in Natasha's soul.\r
+\r
+Everything: her face, walk, look, and voice, was suddenly altered. To\r
+her own surprise a power of life and hope of happiness rose to the\r
+surface and demanded satisfaction. From that evening she seemed to have\r
+forgotten all that had happened to her. She no longer complained of her\r
+position, did not say a word about the past, and no longer feared to\r
+make happy plans for the future. She spoke little of Pierre, but when\r
+Princess Mary mentioned him a long-extinguished light once more kindled\r
+in her eyes and her lips curved with a strange smile.\r
+\r
+\r
+The change that took place in Natasha at first surprised Princess Mary;\r
+but when she understood its meaning it grieved her. "Can she have loved\r
+my brother so little as to be able to forget him so soon?" she thought\r
+when she reflected on the change. But when she was with Natasha she was\r
+not vexed with her and did not reproach her. The reawakened power of\r
+life that had seized Natasha was so evidently irrepressible and\r
+unexpected by her that in her presence Princess Mary felt that she had\r
+no right to reproach her even in her heart.\r
+\r
+Natasha gave herself up so fully and frankly to this new feeling that\r
+she did not try to hide the fact that she was no longer sad, but bright\r
+and cheerful.\r
+\r
+When Princess Mary returned to her room after her nocturnal talk with\r
+Pierre, Natasha met her on the threshold.\r
+\r
+"He has spoken? Yes? He has spoken?" she repeated.\r
+\r
+And a joyful yet pathetic expression which seemed to beg forgiveness for\r
+her joy settled on Natasha's face.\r
+\r
+"I wanted to listen at the door, but I knew you would tell me."\r
+\r
+Understandable and touching as the look with which Natasha gazed at her\r
+seemed to Princess Mary, and sorry as she was to see her agitation,\r
+these words pained her for a moment. She remembered her brother and his\r
+love.\r
+\r
+"But what's to be done? She can't help it," thought the princess.\r
+\r
+And with a sad and rather stern look she told Natasha all that Pierre\r
+had said. On hearing that he was going to Petersburg Natasha was\r
+astounded.\r
+\r
+"To Petersburg!" she repeated as if unable to understand.\r
+\r
+But noticing the grieved expression on Princess Mary's face she guessed\r
+the reason of that sadness and suddenly began to cry.\r
+\r
+"Mary," said she, "tell me what I should do! I am afraid of being bad.\r
+Whatever you tell me, I will do. Tell me...."\r
+\r
+"You love him?"\r
+\r
+"Yes," whispered Natasha.\r
+\r
+"Then why are you crying? I am happy for your sake," said Princess Mary,\r
+who because of those tears quite forgave Natasha's joy.\r
+\r
+"It won't be just yet--someday. Think what fun it will be when I am his\r
+wife and you marry Nicholas!"\r
+\r
+"Natasha, I have asked you not to speak of that. Let us talk about you."\r
+\r
+They were silent awhile.\r
+\r
+"But why go to Petersburg?" Natasha suddenly asked, and hastily replied\r
+to her own question. "But no, no, he must... Yes, Mary, He must...."\r
+\r
+FIRST EPILOGUE: 1813 - 20\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+Seven years had passed. The storm-tossed sea of European history had\r
+subsided within its shores and seemed to have become calm. But the\r
+mysterious forces that move humanity (mysterious because the laws of\r
+their motion are unknown to us) continued to operate.\r
+\r
+Though the surface of the sea of history seemed motionless, the movement\r
+of humanity went on as unceasingly as the flow of time. Various groups\r
+of people formed and dissolved, the coming formation and dissolution of\r
+kingdoms and displacement of peoples was in course of preparation.\r
+\r
+The sea of history was not driven spasmodically from shore to shore as\r
+previously. It was seething in its depths. Historic figures were not\r
+borne by the waves from one shore to another as before. They now seemed\r
+to rotate on one spot. The historical figures at the head of armies, who\r
+formerly reflected the movement of the masses by ordering wars,\r
+campaigns, and battles, now reflected the restless movement by political\r
+and diplomatic combinations, laws, and treaties.\r
+\r
+The historians call this activity of the historical figures "the\r
+reaction."\r
+\r
+In dealing with this period they sternly condemn the historical\r
+personages who, in their opinion, caused what they describe as the\r
+reaction. All the well-known people of that period, from Alexander and\r
+Napoleon to Madame de Stael, Photius, Schelling, Fichte, Chateaubriand,\r
+and the rest, pass before their stern judgment seat and are acquitted or\r
+condemned according to whether they conduced to progress or to reaction.\r
+\r
+According to their accounts a reaction took place at that time in Russia\r
+also, and the chief culprit was Alexander I, the same man who according\r
+to them was the chief cause of the liberal movement at the commencement\r
+of his reign, being the savior of Russia.\r
+\r
+There is no one in Russian literature now, from schoolboy essayist to\r
+learned historian, who does not throw his little stone at Alexander for\r
+things he did wrong at this period of his reign.\r
+\r
+"He ought to have acted in this way and in that way. In this case he did\r
+well and in that case badly. He behaved admirably at the beginning of\r
+his reign and during 1812, but acted badly by giving a constitution to\r
+Poland, forming the Holy Alliance, entrusting power to Arakcheev,\r
+favoring Golitsyn and mysticism, and afterwards Shishkov and Photius. He\r
+also acted badly by concerning himself with the active army and\r
+disbanding the Semenov regiment."\r
+\r
+It would take a dozen pages to enumerate all the reproaches the\r
+historians address to him, based on their knowledge of what is good for\r
+humanity.\r
+\r
+What do these reproaches mean?\r
+\r
+Do not the very actions for which the historians praise Alexander I (the\r
+liberal attempts at the beginning of his reign, his struggle with\r
+Napoleon, the firmness he displayed in 1812 and the campaign of 1813)\r
+flow from the same sources--the circumstances of his birth, education,\r
+and life--that made his personality what it was and from which the\r
+actions for which they blame him (the Holy Alliance, the restoration of\r
+Poland, and the reaction of 1820 and later) also flowed?\r
+\r
+In what does the substance of those reproaches lie?\r
+\r
+It lies in the fact that an historic character like Alexander I,\r
+standing on the highest possible pinnacle of human power with the\r
+blinding light of history focused upon him; a character exposed to those\r
+strongest of all influences: the intrigues, flattery, and self-deception\r
+inseparable from power; a character who at every moment of his life felt\r
+a responsibility for all that was happening in Europe; and not a\r
+fictitious but a live character who like every man had his personal\r
+habits, passions, and impulses toward goodness, beauty, and truth--that\r
+this character--though not lacking in virtue (the historians do not\r
+accuse him of that)--had not the same conception of the welfare of\r
+humanity fifty years ago as a present-day professor who from his youth\r
+upwards has been occupied with learning: that is, with books and\r
+lectures and with taking notes from them.\r
+\r
+But even if we assume that fifty years ago Alexander I was mistaken in\r
+his view of what was good for the people, we must inevitably assume that\r
+the historian who judges Alexander will also after the lapse of some\r
+time turn out to be mistaken in his view of what is good for humanity.\r
+This assumption is all the more natural and inevitable because, watching\r
+the movement of history, we see that every year and with each new\r
+writer, opinion as to what is good for mankind changes; so that what\r
+once seemed good, ten years later seems bad, and vice versa. And what is\r
+more, we find at one and the same time quite contradictory views as to\r
+what is bad and what is good in history: some people regard giving a\r
+constitution to Poland and forming the Holy Alliance as praiseworthy in\r
+Alexander, while others regard it as blameworthy.\r
+\r
+The activity of Alexander or of Napoleon cannot be called useful or\r
+harmful, for it is impossible to say for what it was useful or harmful.\r
+If that activity displeases somebody, this is only because it does not\r
+agree with his limited understanding of what is good. Whether the\r
+preservation of my father's house in Moscow, or the glory of the Russian\r
+arms, or the prosperity of the Petersburg and other universities, or the\r
+freedom of Poland or the greatness of Russia, or the balance of power in\r
+Europe, or a certain kind of European culture called "progress" appear\r
+to me to be good or bad, I must admit that besides these things the\r
+action of every historic character has other more general purposes\r
+inaccessible to me.\r
+\r
+But let us assume that what is called science can harmonize all\r
+contradictions and possesses an unchanging standard of good and bad by\r
+which to try historic characters and events; let us say that Alexander\r
+could have done everything differently; let us say that with guidance\r
+from those who blame him and who profess to know the ultimate aim of the\r
+movement of humanity, he might have arranged matters according to the\r
+program his present accusers would have given him--of nationality,\r
+freedom, equality, and progress (these, I think, cover the ground). Let\r
+us assume that this program was possible and had then been formulated,\r
+and that Alexander had acted on it. What would then have become of the\r
+activity of all those who opposed the tendency that then prevailed in\r
+the government--an activity that in the opinion of the historians was\r
+good and beneficent? Their activity would not have existed: there would\r
+have been no life, there would have been nothing.\r
+\r
+If we admit that human life can be ruled by reason, the possibility of\r
+life is destroyed.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+If we assume as the historians do that great men lead humanity to the\r
+attainment of certain ends--the greatness of Russia or of France, the\r
+balance of power in Europe, the diffusion of the ideas of the\r
+Revolution, general progress, or anything else--then it is impossible to\r
+explain the facts of history without introducing the conceptions of\r
+chance and genius.\r
+\r
+If the aim of the European wars at the beginning of the nineteenth\r
+century had been the aggrandizement of Russia, that aim might have been\r
+accomplished without all the preceding wars and without the invasion. If\r
+the aim was the aggrandizement of France, that might have been attained\r
+without the Revolution and without the Empire. If the aim was the\r
+dissemination of ideas, the printing press could have accomplished that\r
+much better than warfare. If the aim was the progress of civilization,\r
+it is easy to see that there are other ways of diffusing civilization\r
+more expedient than by the destruction of wealth and of human lives.\r
+\r
+Why did it happen in this and not in some other way?\r
+\r
+Because it happened so! "Chance created the situation; genius utilized\r
+it," says history.\r
+\r
+But what is chance? What is genius?\r
+\r
+The words chance and genius do not denote any really existing thing and\r
+therefore cannot be defined. Those words only denote a certain stage of\r
+understanding of phenomena. I do not know why a certain event occurs; I\r
+think that I cannot know it; so I do not try to know it and I talk about\r
+chance. I see a force producing effects beyond the scope of ordinary\r
+human agencies; I do not understand why this occurs and I talk of\r
+genius.\r
+\r
+To a herd of rams, the ram the herdsman drives each evening into a\r
+special enclosure to feed and that becomes twice as fat as the others\r
+must seem to be a genius. And it must appear an astonishing conjunction\r
+of genius with a whole series of extraordinary chances that this ram,\r
+who instead of getting into the general fold every evening goes into a\r
+special enclosure where there are oats--that this very ram, swelling\r
+with fat, is killed for meat.\r
+\r
+But the rams need only cease to suppose that all that happens to them\r
+happens solely for the attainment of their sheepish aims; they need only\r
+admit that what happens to them may also have purposes beyond their ken,\r
+and they will at once perceive a unity and coherence in what happened to\r
+the ram that was fattened. Even if they do not know for what purpose\r
+they are fattened, they will at least know that all that happened to the\r
+ram did not happen accidentally, and will no longer need the conceptions\r
+of chance or genius.\r
+\r
+Only by renouncing our claim to discern a purpose immediately\r
+intelligible to us, and admitting the ultimate purpose to be beyond our\r
+ken, may we discern the sequence of experiences in the lives of historic\r
+characters and perceive the cause of the effect they produce\r
+(incommensurable with ordinary human capabilities), and then the words\r
+chance and genius become superfluous.\r
+\r
+We need only confess that we do not know the purpose of the European\r
+convulsions and that we know only the facts--that is, the murders, first\r
+in France, then in Italy, in Africa, in Prussia, in Austria, in Spain,\r
+and in Russia--and that the movements from the west to the east and from\r
+the east to the west form the essence and purpose of these events, and\r
+not only shall we have no need to see exceptional ability and genius in\r
+Napoleon and Alexander, but we shall be unable to consider them to be\r
+anything but like other men, and we shall not be obliged to have\r
+recourse to chance for an explanation of those small events which made\r
+these people what they were, but it will be clear that all those small\r
+events were inevitable.\r
+\r
+By discarding a claim to knowledge of the ultimate purpose, we shall\r
+clearly perceive that just as one cannot imagine a blossom or seed for\r
+any single plant better suited to it than those it produces, so it is\r
+impossible to imagine any two people more completely adapted down to the\r
+smallest detail for the purpose they had to fulfill, than Napoleon and\r
+Alexander with all their antecedents.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+The fundamental and essential significance of the European events of the\r
+beginning of the nineteenth century lies in the movement of the mass of\r
+the European peoples from west to east and afterwards from east to west.\r
+The commencement of that movement was the movement from west to east.\r
+For the peoples of the west to be able to make their warlike movement to\r
+Moscow it was necessary: (1) that they should form themselves into a\r
+military group of a size able to endure a collision with the warlike\r
+military group of the east, (2) that they should abandon all established\r
+traditions and customs, and (3) that during their military movement they\r
+should have at their head a man who could justify to himself and to them\r
+the deceptions, robberies, and murders which would have to be committed\r
+during that movement.\r
+\r
+And beginning with the French Revolution the old inadequately large\r
+group was destroyed, as well as the old habits and traditions, and step\r
+by step a group was formed of larger dimensions with new customs and\r
+traditions, and a man was produced who would stand at the head of the\r
+coming movement and bear the responsibility for all that had to be done.\r
+\r
+A man without convictions, without habits, without traditions, without a\r
+name, and not even a Frenchman, emerges--by what seem the strangest\r
+chances--from among all the seething French parties, and without joining\r
+any one of them is borne forward to a prominent position.\r
+\r
+The ignorance of his colleagues, the weakness and insignificance of his\r
+opponents, the frankness of his falsehoods, and the dazzling and self-\r
+confident limitations of this man raise him to the head of the army. The\r
+brilliant qualities of the soldiers of the army sent to Italy, his\r
+opponents' reluctance to fight, and his own childish audacity and self-\r
+confidence secure him military fame. Innumerable so-called chances\r
+accompany him everywhere. The disfavor into which he falls with the\r
+rulers of France turns to his advantage. His attempts to avoid his\r
+predestined path are unsuccessful: he is not received into the Russian\r
+service, and the appointment he seeks in Turkey comes to nothing. During\r
+the war in Italy he is several times on the verge of destruction and\r
+each time is saved in an unexpected manner. Owing to various diplomatic\r
+considerations the Russian armies--just those which might have destroyed\r
+his prestige--do not appear upon the scene till he is no longer there.\r
+\r
+On his return from Italy he finds the government in Paris in a process\r
+of dissolution in which all those who are in it are inevitably wiped out\r
+and destroyed. And by chance an escape from this dangerous position\r
+presents itself in the form of an aimless and senseless expedition to\r
+Africa. Again so-called chance accompanies him. Impregnable Malta\r
+surrenders without a shot; his most reckless schemes are crowned with\r
+success. The enemy's fleet, which subsequently did not let a single boat\r
+pass, allows his entire army to elude it. In Africa a whole series of\r
+outrages are committed against the almost unarmed inhabitants. And the\r
+men who commit these crimes, especially their leader, assure themselves\r
+that this is admirable, this is glory--it resembles Caesar and Alexander\r
+the Great and is therefore good.\r
+\r
+This ideal of glory and grandeur--which consists not merely in\r
+considering nothing wrong that one does but in priding oneself on every\r
+crime one commits, ascribing to it an incomprehensible supernatural\r
+significance--that ideal, destined to guide this man and his associates,\r
+had scope for its development in Africa. Whatever he does succeeds. The\r
+plague does not touch him. The cruelty of murdering prisoners is not\r
+imputed to him as a fault. His childishly rash, uncalled-for, and\r
+ignoble departure from Africa, leaving his comrades in distress, is set\r
+down to his credit, and again the enemy's fleet twice lets him slip\r
+past. When, intoxicated by the crimes he has committed so successfully,\r
+he reaches Paris, the dissolution of the republican government, which a\r
+year earlier might have ruined him, has reached its extreme limit, and\r
+his presence there now as a newcomer free from party entanglements can\r
+only serve to exalt him--and though he himself has no plan, he is quite\r
+ready for his new role.\r
+\r
+He had no plan, he was afraid of everything, but the parties snatched at\r
+him and demanded his participation.\r
+\r
+He alone--with his ideal of glory and grandeur developed in Italy and\r
+Egypt, his insane self-adulation, his boldness in crime and frankness in\r
+lying--he alone could justify what had to be done.\r
+\r
+He is needed for the place that awaits him, and so almost apart from his\r
+will and despite his indecision, his lack of a plan, and all his\r
+mistakes, he is drawn into a conspiracy that aims at seizing power and\r
+the conspiracy is crowned with success.\r
+\r
+He is pushed into a meeting of the legislature. In alarm he wishes to\r
+flee, considering himself lost. He pretends to fall into a swoon and\r
+says senseless things that should have ruined him. But the once proud\r
+and shrewd rulers of France, feeling that their part is played out, are\r
+even more bewildered than he, and do not say the words they should have\r
+said to destroy him and retain their power.\r
+\r
+Chance, millions of chances, give him power, and all men as if by\r
+agreement co-operate to confirm that power. Chance forms the characters\r
+of the rulers of France, who submit to him; chance forms the character\r
+of Paul I of Russia who recognizes his government; chance contrives a\r
+plot against him which not only fails to harm him but confirms his\r
+power. Chance puts the Duc d'Enghien in his hands and unexpectedly\r
+causes him to kill him--thereby convincing the mob more forcibly than in\r
+any other way that he had the right, since he had the might. Chance\r
+contrives that though he directs all his efforts to prepare an\r
+expedition against England (which would inevitably have ruined him) he\r
+never carries out that intention, but unexpectedly falls upon Mack and\r
+the Austrians, who surrender without a battle. Chance and genius give\r
+him the victory at Austerlitz; and by chance all men, not only the\r
+French but all Europe--except England which does not take part in the\r
+events about to happen--despite their former horror and detestation of\r
+his crimes, now recognize his authority, the title he has given himself,\r
+and his ideal of grandeur and glory, which seems excellent and\r
+reasonable to them all.\r
+\r
+As if measuring themselves and preparing for the coming movement, the\r
+western forces push toward the east several times in 1805, 1806, 1807,\r
+and 1809, gaining strength and growing. In 1811 the group of people that\r
+had formed in France unites into one group with the peoples of Central\r
+Europe. The strength of the justification of the man who stands at the\r
+head of the movement grows with the increased size of the group. During\r
+the ten-year preparatory period this man had formed relations with all\r
+the crowned heads of Europe. The discredited rulers of the world can\r
+oppose no reasonable ideal to the insensate Napoleonic ideal of glory\r
+and grandeur. One after another they hasten to display their\r
+insignificance before him. The King of Prussia sends his wife to seek\r
+the great man's mercy; the Emperor of Austria considers it a favor that\r
+this man receives a daughter of the Caesars into his bed; the Pope, the\r
+guardian of all that the nations hold sacred, utilizes religion for the\r
+aggrandizement of the great man. It is not Napoleon who prepares himself\r
+for the accomplishment of his role, so much as all those round him who\r
+prepare him to take on himself the whole responsibility for what is\r
+happening and has to happen. There is no step, no crime or petty fraud\r
+he commits, which in the mouths of those around him is not at once\r
+represented as a great deed. The most suitable fete the Germans can\r
+devise for him is a celebration of Jena and Auerstadt. Not only is he\r
+great, but so are his ancestors, his brothers, his stepsons, and his\r
+brothers-in-law. Everything is done to deprive him of the remains of his\r
+reason and to prepare him for his terrible part. And when he is ready so\r
+too are the forces.\r
+\r
+The invasion pushes eastward and reaches its final goal--Moscow. That\r
+city is taken; the Russian army suffers heavier losses than the opposing\r
+armies had suffered in the former war from Austerlitz to Wagram. But\r
+suddenly instead of those chances and that genius which hitherto had so\r
+consistently led him by an uninterrupted series of successes to the\r
+predestined goal, an innumerable sequence of inverse chances occur--from\r
+the cold in his head at Borodino to the sparks which set Moscow on fire,\r
+and the frosts--and instead of genius, stupidity and immeasurable\r
+baseness become evident.\r
+\r
+The invaders flee, turn back, flee again, and all the chances are now\r
+not for Napoleon but always against him.\r
+\r
+A countermovement is then accomplished from east to west with a\r
+remarkable resemblance to the preceding movement from west to east.\r
+Attempted drives from east to west--similar to the contrary movements of\r
+1805, 1807, and 1809--precede the great westward movement; there is the\r
+same coalescence into a group of enormous dimensions; the same adhesion\r
+of the people of Central Europe to the movement; the same hesitation\r
+midway, and the same increasing rapidity as the goal is approached.\r
+\r
+Paris, the ultimate goal, is reached. The Napoleonic government and army\r
+are destroyed. Napoleon himself is no longer of any account; all his\r
+actions are evidently pitiful and mean, but again an inexplicable chance\r
+occurs. The allies detest Napoleon whom they regard as the cause of\r
+their sufferings. Deprived of power and authority, his crimes and his\r
+craft exposed, he should have appeared to them what he appeared ten\r
+years previously and one year later--an outlawed brigand. But by some\r
+strange chance no one perceives this. His part is not yet ended. The man\r
+who ten years before and a year later was considered an outlawed brigand\r
+is sent to an island two days' sail from France, which for some reason\r
+is presented to him as his dominion, and guards are given to him and\r
+millions of money are paid him.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+The flood of nations begins to subside into its normal channels. The\r
+waves of the great movement abate, and on the calm surface eddies are\r
+formed in which float the diplomatists, who imagine that they have\r
+caused the floods to abate.\r
+\r
+But the smooth sea again suddenly becomes disturbed. The diplomatists\r
+think that their disagreements are the cause of this fresh pressure of\r
+natural forces; they anticipate war between their sovereigns; the\r
+position seems to them insoluble. But the wave they feel to be rising\r
+does not come from the quarter they expect. It rises again from the same\r
+point as before--Paris. The last backwash of the movement from the west\r
+occurs: a backwash which serves to solve the apparently insuperable\r
+diplomatic difficulties and ends the military movement of that period of\r
+history.\r
+\r
+The man who had devastated France returns to France alone, without any\r
+conspiracy and without soldiers. Any guard might arrest him, but by\r
+strange chance no one does so and all rapturously greet the man they\r
+cursed the day before and will curse again a month later.\r
+\r
+This man is still needed to justify the final collective act.\r
+\r
+That act is performed.\r
+\r
+The last role is played. The actor is bidden to disrobe and wash off his\r
+powder and paint: he will not be wanted any more.\r
+\r
+And some years pass during which he plays a pitiful comedy to himself in\r
+solitude on his island, justifying his actions by intrigues and lies\r
+when the justification is no longer needed, and displaying to the whole\r
+world what it was that people had mistaken for strength as long as an\r
+unseen hand directed his actions.\r
+\r
+The manager having brought the drama to a close and stripped the actor\r
+shows him to us.\r
+\r
+"See what you believed in! This is he! Do you now see that it was not he\r
+but I who moved you?"\r
+\r
+But dazed by the force of the movement, it was long before people\r
+understood this.\r
+\r
+Still greater coherence and inevitability is seen in the life of\r
+Alexander I, the man who stood at the head of the countermovement from\r
+east to west.\r
+\r
+What was needed for him who, overshadowing others, stood at the head of\r
+that movement from east to west?\r
+\r
+What was needed was a sense of justice and a sympathy with European\r
+affairs, but a remote sympathy not dulled by petty interests; a moral\r
+superiority over those sovereigns of the day who co-operated with him; a\r
+mild and attractive personality; and a personal grievance against\r
+Napoleon. And all this was found in Alexander I; all this had been\r
+prepared by innumerable so-called chances in his life: his education,\r
+his early liberalism, the advisers who surrounded him, and by\r
+Austerlitz, and Tilsit, and Erfurt.\r
+\r
+During the national war he was inactive because he was not needed. But\r
+as soon as the necessity for a general European war presented itself he\r
+appeared in his place at the given moment and, uniting the nations of\r
+Europe, led them to the goal.\r
+\r
+The goal is reached. After the final war of 1815 Alexander possesses all\r
+possible power. How does he use it?\r
+\r
+Alexander I--the pacifier of Europe, the man who from his early years\r
+had striven only for his people's welfare, the originator of the liberal\r
+innovations in his fatherland--now that he seemed to possess the utmost\r
+power and therefore to have the possibility of bringing about the\r
+welfare of his peoples--at the time when Napoleon in exile was drawing\r
+up childish and mendacious plans of how he would have made mankind happy\r
+had he retained power--Alexander I, having fulfilled his mission and\r
+feeling the hand of God upon him, suddenly recognizes the insignificance\r
+of that supposed power, turns away from it, and gives it into the hands\r
+of contemptible men whom he despises, saying only:\r
+\r
+"Not unto us, not unto us, but unto Thy Name!... I too am a man like the\r
+rest of you. Let me live like a man and think of my soul and of God."\r
+\r
+As the sun and each atom of ether is a sphere complete in itself, and\r
+yet at the same time only a part of a whole too immense for man to\r
+comprehend, so each individual has within himself his own aims and yet\r
+has them to serve a general purpose incomprehensible to man.\r
+\r
+A bee settling on a flower has stung a child. And the child is afraid of\r
+bees and declares that bees exist to sting people. A poet admires the\r
+bee sucking from the chalice of a flower and says it exists to suck the\r
+fragrance of flowers. A beekeeper, seeing the bee collect pollen from\r
+flowers and carry it to the hive, says that it exists to gather honey.\r
+Another beekeeper who has studied the life of the hive more closely says\r
+that the bee gathers pollen dust to feed the young bees and rear a\r
+queen, and that it exists to perpetuate its race. A botanist notices\r
+that the bee flying with the pollen of a male flower to a pistil\r
+fertilizes the latter, and sees in this the purpose of the bee's\r
+existence. Another, observing the migration of plants, notices that the\r
+bee helps in this work, and may say that in this lies the purpose of the\r
+bee. But the ultimate purpose of the bee is not exhausted by the first,\r
+the second, or any of the processes the human mind can discern. The\r
+higher the human intellect rises in the discovery of these purposes, the\r
+more obvious it becomes, that the ultimate purpose is beyond our\r
+comprehension.\r
+\r
+All that is accessible to man is the relation of the life of the bee to\r
+other manifestations of life. And so it is with the purpose of historic\r
+characters and nations.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+Natasha's wedding to Bezukhov, which took place in 1813, was the last\r
+happy event in the family of the old Rostovs. Count Ilya Rostov died\r
+that same year and, as always happens, after the father's death the\r
+family group broke up.\r
+\r
+The events of the previous year: the burning of Moscow and the flight\r
+from it, the death of Prince Andrew, Natasha's despair, Petya's death,\r
+and the old countess' grief fell blow after blow on the old count's\r
+head. He seemed to be unable to understand the meaning of all these\r
+events, and bowed his old head in a spiritual sense as if expecting and\r
+inviting further blows which would finish him. He seemed now frightened\r
+and distraught and now unnaturally animated and enterprising.\r
+\r
+The arrangements for Natasha's marriage occupied him for a while. He\r
+ordered dinners and suppers and obviously tried to appear cheerful, but\r
+his cheerfulness was not infectious as it used to be: on the contrary it\r
+evoked the compassion of those who knew and liked him.\r
+\r
+When Pierre and his wife had left, he grew very quiet and began to\r
+complain of depression. A few days later he fell ill and took to his\r
+bed. He realized from the first that he would not get up again, despite\r
+the doctor's encouragement. The countess passed a fortnight in an\r
+armchair by his pillow without undressing. Every time she gave him his\r
+medicine he sobbed and silently kissed her hand. On his last day,\r
+sobbing, he asked her and his absent son to forgive him for having\r
+dissipated their property--that being the chief fault of which he was\r
+conscious. After receiving communion and unction he quietly died; and\r
+next day a throng of acquaintances who came to pay their last respects\r
+to the deceased filled the house rented by the Rostovs. All these\r
+acquaintances, who had so often dined and danced at his house and had so\r
+often laughed at him, now said, with a common feeling of self-reproach\r
+and emotion, as if justifying themselves: "Well, whatever he may have\r
+been he was a most worthy man. You don't meet such men nowadays.... And\r
+which of us has not weaknesses of his own?"\r
+\r
+It was just when the count's affairs had become so involved that it was\r
+impossible to say what would happen if he lived another year that he\r
+unexpectedly died.\r
+\r
+Nicholas was with the Russian army in Paris when the news of his\r
+father's death reached him. He at once resigned his commission, and\r
+without waiting for it to be accepted took leave of absence and went to\r
+Moscow. The state of the count's affairs became quite obvious a month\r
+after his death, surprising everyone by the immense total of small debts\r
+the existence of which no one had suspected. The debts amounted to\r
+double the value of the property.\r
+\r
+Friends and relations advised Nicholas to decline the inheritance. But\r
+he regarded such a refusal as a slur on his father's memory, which he\r
+held sacred, and therefore would not hear of refusing and accepted the\r
+inheritance together with the obligation to pay the debts.\r
+\r
+The creditors who had so long been silent, restrained by a vague but\r
+powerful influence exerted on them while he lived by the count's\r
+careless good nature, all proceeded to enforce their claims at once. As\r
+always happens in such cases rivalry sprang up as to which should get\r
+paid first, and those who like Mitenka held promissory notes given them\r
+as presents now became the most exacting of the creditors. Nicholas was\r
+allowed no respite and no peace, and those who had seemed to pity the\r
+old man--the cause of their losses (if they were losses)--now\r
+remorselessly pursued the young heir who had voluntarily undertaken the\r
+debts and was obviously not guilty of contracting them.\r
+\r
+Not one of the plans Nicholas tried succeeded; the estate was sold by\r
+auction for half its value, and half the debts still remained unpaid.\r
+Nicholas accepted thirty thousand rubles offered him by his brother-in-\r
+law Bezukhov to pay off debts he regarded as genuinely due for value\r
+received. And to avoid being imprisoned for the remainder, as the\r
+creditors threatened, he re-entered the government service.\r
+\r
+He could not rejoin the army where he would have been made colonel at\r
+the next vacancy, for his mother now clung to him as her one hold on\r
+life; and so despite his reluctance to remain in Moscow among people who\r
+had known him before, and despite his abhorrence of the civil service,\r
+he accepted a post in Moscow in that service, doffed the uniform of\r
+which he was so fond, and moved with his mother and Sonya to a small\r
+house on the Sivtsev Vrazhek.\r
+\r
+Natasha and Pierre were living in Petersburg at the time and had no\r
+clear idea of Nicholas' circumstances. Having borrowed money from his\r
+brother-in-law, Nicholas tried to hide his wretched condition from him.\r
+His position was the more difficult because with his salary of twelve\r
+hundred rubles he had not only to keep himself, his mother, and Sonya,\r
+but had to shield his mother from knowledge of their poverty. The\r
+countess could not conceive of life without the luxurious conditions she\r
+had been used to from childhood and, unable to realize how hard it was\r
+for her son, kept demanding now a carriage (which they did not keep) to\r
+send for a friend, now some expensive article of food for herself, or\r
+wine for her son, or money to buy a present as a surprise for Natasha or\r
+Sonya, or for Nicholas himself.\r
+\r
+Sonya kept house, attended on her aunt, read to her, put up with her\r
+whims and secret ill-will, and helped Nicholas to conceal their poverty\r
+from the old countess. Nicholas felt himself irredeemably indebted to\r
+Sonya for all she was doing for his mother and greatly admired her\r
+patience and devotion, but tried to keep aloof from her.\r
+\r
+He seemed in his heart to reproach her for being too perfect, and\r
+because there was nothing to reproach her with. She had all that people\r
+are valued for, but little that could have made him love her. He felt\r
+that the more he valued her the less he loved her. He had taken her at\r
+her word when she wrote giving him his freedom and now behaved as if all\r
+that had passed between them had been long forgotten and could never in\r
+any case be renewed.\r
+\r
+Nicholas' position became worse and worse. The idea of putting something\r
+aside out of his salary proved a dream. Not only did he not save\r
+anything, but to comply with his mother's demands he even incurred some\r
+small debts. He could see no way out of this situation. The idea of\r
+marrying some rich woman, which was suggested to him by his female\r
+relations, was repugnant to him. The other way out--his mother's death--\r
+never entered his head. He wished for nothing and hoped for nothing, and\r
+deep in his heart experienced a gloomy and stern satisfaction in an\r
+uncomplaining endurance of his position. He tried to avoid his old\r
+acquaintances with their commiseration and offensive offers of\r
+assistance; he avoided all distraction and recreation, and even at home\r
+did nothing but play cards with his mother, pace silently up and down\r
+the room, and smoke one pipe after another. He seemed carefully to\r
+cherish within himself the gloomy mood which alone enabled him to endure\r
+his position.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+At the beginning of winter Princess Mary came to Moscow. From reports\r
+current in town she learned how the Rostovs were situated, and how "the\r
+son has sacrificed himself for his mother," as people were saying.\r
+\r
+"I never expected anything else of him," said Princess Mary to herself,\r
+feeling a joyous sense of her love for him. Remembering her friendly\r
+relations with all the Rostovs which had made her almost a member of the\r
+family, she thought it her duty to go to see them. But remembering her\r
+relations with Nicholas in Voronezh she was shy about doing so. Making a\r
+great effort she did however go to call on them a few weeks after her\r
+arrival in Moscow.\r
+\r
+Nicholas was the first to meet her, as the countess' room could only be\r
+reached through his. But instead of being greeted with pleasure as she\r
+had expected, at his first glance at her his face assumed a cold, stiff,\r
+proud expression she had not seen on it before. He inquired about her\r
+health, led the way to his mother, and having sat there for five minutes\r
+left the room.\r
+\r
+When the princess came out of the countess' room Nicholas met her again,\r
+and with marked solemnity and stiffness accompanied her to the anteroom.\r
+To her remarks about his mother's health he made no reply. "What's that\r
+to you? Leave me in peace," his looks seemed to say.\r
+\r
+"Why does she come prowling here? What does she want? I can't bear these\r
+ladies and all these civilities!" said he aloud in Sonya's presence,\r
+evidently unable to repress his vexation, after the princess' carriage\r
+had disappeared.\r
+\r
+"Oh, Nicholas, how can you talk like that?" cried Sonya, hardly able to\r
+conceal her delight. "She is so kind and Mamma is so fond of her!"\r
+\r
+Nicholas did not reply and tried to avoid speaking of the princess any\r
+more. But after her visit the old countess spoke of her several times a\r
+day.\r
+\r
+She sang her praises, insisted that her son must call on her, expressed\r
+a wish to see her often, but yet always became ill-humored when she\r
+began to talk about her.\r
+\r
+Nicholas tried to keep silence when his mother spoke of the princess,\r
+but his silence irritated her.\r
+\r
+"She is a very admirable and excellent young woman," said she, "and you\r
+must go and call on her. You would at least be seeing somebody, and I\r
+think it must be dull for you only seeing us."\r
+\r
+"But I don't in the least want to, Mamma."\r
+\r
+"You used to want to, and now you don't. Really I don't understand you,\r
+my dear. One day you are dull, and the next you refuse to see anyone."\r
+\r
+"But I never said I was dull."\r
+\r
+"Why, you said yourself you don't want even to see her. She is a very\r
+admirable young woman and you always liked her, but now suddenly you\r
+have got some notion or other in your head. You hide everything from\r
+me."\r
+\r
+"Not at all, Mamma."\r
+\r
+"If I were asking you to do something disagreeable now--but I only ask\r
+you to return a call. One would think mere politeness required it....\r
+Well, I have asked you, and now I won't interfere any more since you\r
+have secrets from your mother."\r
+\r
+"Well, then, I'll go if you wish it."\r
+\r
+"It doesn't matter to me. I only wish it for your sake."\r
+\r
+Nicholas sighed, bit his mustache, and laid out the cards for a\r
+patience, trying to divert his mother's attention to another topic.\r
+\r
+The same conversation was repeated next day and the day after, and the\r
+day after that.\r
+\r
+After her visit to the Rostovs and her unexpectedly chilly reception by\r
+Nicholas, Princess Mary confessed to herself that she had been right in\r
+not wishing to be the first to call.\r
+\r
+"I expected nothing else," she told herself, calling her pride to her\r
+aid. "I have nothing to do with him and I only wanted to see the old\r
+lady, who was always kind to me and to whom I am under many\r
+obligations."\r
+\r
+But she could not pacify herself with these reflections; a feeling akin\r
+to remorse troubled her when she thought of her visit. Though she had\r
+firmly resolved not to call on the Rostovs again and to forget the whole\r
+matter, she felt herself all the time in an awkward position. And when\r
+she asked herself what distressed her, she had to admit that it was her\r
+relation to Rostov. His cold, polite manner did not express his feeling\r
+for her (she knew that) but it concealed something, and until she could\r
+discover what that something was, she felt that she could not be at\r
+ease.\r
+\r
+One day in midwinter when sitting in the schoolroom attending to her\r
+nephew's lessons, she was informed that Rostov had called. With a firm\r
+resolution not to betray herself and not show her agitation, she sent\r
+for Mademoiselle Bourienne and went with her to the drawing room.\r
+\r
+Her first glance at Nicholas' face told her that he had only come to\r
+fulfill the demands of politeness, and she firmly resolved to maintain\r
+the tone in which he addressed her.\r
+\r
+They spoke of the countess' health, of their mutual friends, of the\r
+latest war news, and when the ten minutes required by propriety had\r
+elapsed after which a visitor may rise, Nicholas got up to say good-by.\r
+\r
+With Mademoiselle Bourienne's help the princess had maintained the\r
+conversation very well, but at the very last moment, just when he rose,\r
+she was so tired of talking of what did not interest her, and her mind\r
+was so full of the question why she alone was granted so little\r
+happiness in life, that in a fit of absent-mindedness she sat still, her\r
+luminous eyes gazing fixedly before her, not noticing that he had risen.\r
+\r
+Nicholas glanced at her and, wishing to appear not to notice her\r
+abstraction, made some remark to Mademoiselle Bourienne and then again\r
+looked at the princess. She still sat motionless with a look of\r
+suffering on her gentle face. He suddenly felt sorry for her and was\r
+vaguely conscious that he might be the cause of the sadness her face\r
+expressed. He wished to help her and say something pleasant, but could\r
+think of nothing to say.\r
+\r
+"Good-bye, Princess!" said he.\r
+\r
+She started, flushed, and sighed deeply.\r
+\r
+"Oh, I beg your pardon," she said as if waking up. "Are you going\r
+already, Count? Well then, good-by! Oh, but the cushion for the\r
+countess!"\r
+\r
+"Wait a moment, I'll fetch it," said Mademoiselle Bourienne, and she\r
+left the room.\r
+\r
+They both sat silent, with an occasional glance at one another.\r
+\r
+"Yes, Princess," said Nicholas at last with a sad smile, "it doesn't\r
+seem long ago since we first met at Bogucharovo, but how much water has\r
+flowed since then! In what distress we all seemed to be then, yet I\r
+would give much to bring back that time... but there's no bringing it\r
+back."\r
+\r
+Princess Mary gazed intently into his eyes with her own luminous ones as\r
+he said this. She seemed to be trying to fathom the hidden meaning of\r
+his words which would explain his feeling for her.\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes," said she, "but you have no reason to regret the past, Count.\r
+As I understand your present life, I think you will always recall it\r
+with satisfaction, because the self-sacrifice that fills it now..."\r
+\r
+"I cannot accept your praise," he interrupted her hurriedly. "On the\r
+contrary I continually reproach myself.... But this is not at all an\r
+interesting or cheerful subject."\r
+\r
+His face again resumed its former stiff and cold expression. But the\r
+princess had caught a glimpse of the man she had known and loved, and it\r
+was to him that she now spoke.\r
+\r
+"I thought you would allow me to tell you this," she said. "I had come\r
+so near to you... and to all your family that I thought you would not\r
+consider my sympathy misplaced, but I was mistaken," and suddenly her\r
+voice trembled. "I don't know why," she continued, recovering herself,\r
+"but you used to be different, and..."\r
+\r
+"There are a thousand reasons why," laying special emphasis on the why.\r
+"Thank you, Princess," he added softly. "Sometimes it is hard."\r
+\r
+"So that's why! That's why!" a voice whispered in Princess Mary's soul.\r
+"No, it was not only that gay, kind, and frank look, not only that\r
+handsome exterior, that I loved in him. I divined his noble, resolute,\r
+self-sacrificing spirit too," she said to herself. "Yes, he is poor now\r
+and I am rich.... Yes, that's the only reason.... Yes, were it not for\r
+that..." And remembering his former tenderness, and looking now at his\r
+kind, sorrowful face, she suddenly understood the cause of his coldness.\r
+\r
+"But why, Count, why?" she almost cried, unconsciously moving closer to\r
+him. "Why? Tell me. You must tell me!"\r
+\r
+He was silent.\r
+\r
+"I don't understand your why, Count," she continued, "but it's hard for\r
+me... I confess it. For some reason you wish to deprive me of our former\r
+friendship. And that hurts me." There were tears in her eyes and in her\r
+voice. "I have had so little happiness in life that every loss is hard\r
+for me to bear.... Excuse me, good-by!" and suddenly she began to cry\r
+and was hurrying from the room.\r
+\r
+"Princess, for God's sake!" he exclaimed, trying to stop her.\r
+"Princess!"\r
+\r
+She turned round. For a few seconds they gazed silently into one\r
+another's eyes--and what had seemed impossible and remote suddenly\r
+became possible, inevitable, and very near.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+In the winter of 1813 Nicholas married Princess Mary and moved to Bald\r
+Hills with his wife, his mother, and Sonya.\r
+\r
+Within four years he had paid off all his remaining debts without\r
+selling any of his wife's property, and having received a small\r
+inheritance on the death of a cousin he paid his debt to Pierre as well.\r
+\r
+In another three years, by 1820, he had so managed his affairs that he\r
+was able to buy a small estate adjoining Bald Hills and was negotiating\r
+to buy back Otradnoe--that being his pet dream.\r
+\r
+Having started farming from necessity, he soon grew so devoted to it\r
+that it became his favorite and almost his sole occupation. Nicholas was\r
+a plain farmer: he did not like innovations, especially the English ones\r
+then coming into vogue. He laughed at theoretical treatises on estate\r
+management, disliked factories, the raising of expensive products, and\r
+the buying of expensive seed corn, and did not make a hobby of any\r
+particular part of the work on his estate. He always had before his\r
+mind's eye the estate as a whole and not any particular part of it. The\r
+chief thing in his eyes was not the nitrogen in the soil, nor the oxygen\r
+in the air, nor manures, nor special plows, but that most important\r
+agent by which nitrogen, oxygen, manure, and plow were made effective--\r
+the peasant laborer. When Nicholas first began farming and began to\r
+understand its different branches, it was the serf who especially\r
+attracted his attention. The peasant seemed to him not merely a tool,\r
+but also a judge of farming and an end in himself. At first he watched\r
+the serfs, trying to understand their aims and what they considered good\r
+and bad, and only pretended to direct them and give orders while in\r
+reality learning from them their methods, their manner of speech, and\r
+their judgment of what was good and bad. Only when he had understood the\r
+peasants' tastes and aspirations, had learned to talk their language, to\r
+grasp the hidden meaning of their words, and felt akin to them did he\r
+begin boldly to manage his serfs, that is, to perform toward them the\r
+duties demanded of him. And Nicholas' management produced very brilliant\r
+results.\r
+\r
+Guided by some gift of insight, on taking up the management of the\r
+estates he at once unerringly appointed as bailiff, village elder, and\r
+delegate, the very men the serfs would themselves have chosen had they\r
+had the right to choose, and these posts never changed hands. Before\r
+analyzing the properties of manure, before entering into the debit and\r
+credit (as he ironically called it), he found out how many cattle the\r
+peasants had and increased the number by all possible means. He kept the\r
+peasant families together in the largest groups possible, not allowing\r
+the family groups to divide into separate households. He was hard alike\r
+on the lazy, the depraved, and the weak, and tried to get them expelled\r
+from the commune.\r
+\r
+He was as careful of the sowing and reaping of the peasants' hay and\r
+corn as of his own, and few landowners had their crops sown and\r
+harvested so early and so well, or got so good a return, as did\r
+Nicholas.\r
+\r
+He disliked having anything to do with the domestic serfs--the "drones"\r
+as he called them--and everyone said he spoiled them by his laxity. When\r
+a decision had to be taken regarding a domestic serf, especially if one\r
+had to be punished, he always felt undecided and consulted everybody in\r
+the house; but when it was possible to have a domestic serf conscripted\r
+instead of a land worker he did so without the least hesitation. He\r
+never felt any hesitation in dealing with the peasants. He knew that his\r
+every decision would be approved by them all with very few exceptions.\r
+\r
+He did not allow himself either to be hard on or punish a man, or to\r
+make things easy for or reward anyone, merely because he felt inclined\r
+to do so. He could not have said by what standard he judged what he\r
+should or should not do, but the standard was quite firm and definite in\r
+his own mind.\r
+\r
+Often, speaking with vexation of some failure or irregularity, he would\r
+say: "What can one do with our Russian peasants?" and imagined that he\r
+could not bear them.\r
+\r
+Yet he loved "our Russian peasants" and their way of life with his whole\r
+soul, and for that very reason had understood and assimilated the one\r
+way and manner of farming which produced good results.\r
+\r
+Countess Mary was jealous of this passion of her husband's and regretted\r
+that she could not share it; but she could not understand the joys and\r
+vexations he derived from that world, to her so remote and alien. She\r
+could not understand why he was so particularly animated and happy when,\r
+after getting up at daybreak and spending the whole morning in the\r
+fields or on the threshing floor, he returned from the sowing or mowing\r
+or reaping to have tea with her. She did not understand why he spoke\r
+with such admiration and delight of the farming of the thrifty and well-\r
+to-do peasant Matthew Ermishin, who with his family had carted corn all\r
+night; or of the fact that his (Nicholas') sheaves were already stacked\r
+before anyone else had his harvest in. She did not understand why he\r
+stepped out from the window to the veranda and smiled under his mustache\r
+and winked so joyfully, when warm steady rain began to fall on the dry\r
+and thirsty shoots of the young oats, or why when the wind carried away\r
+a threatening cloud during the hay harvest he would return from the\r
+barn, flushed, sunburned, and perspiring, with a smell of wormwood and\r
+gentian in his hair and, gleefully rubbing his hands, would say: "Well,\r
+one more day and my grain and the peasants' will all be under cover."\r
+\r
+Still less did she understand why he, kindhearted and always ready to\r
+anticipate her wishes, should become almost desperate when she brought\r
+him a petition from some peasant men or women who had appealed to her to\r
+be excused some work; why he, that kind Nicholas, should obstinately\r
+refuse her, angrily asking her not to interfere in what was not her\r
+business. She felt he had a world apart, which he loved passionately and\r
+which had laws she had not fathomed.\r
+\r
+Sometimes when, trying to understand him, she spoke of the good work he\r
+was doing for his serfs, he would be vexed and reply: "Not in the least;\r
+it never entered my head and I wouldn't do that for their good! That's\r
+all poetry and old wives' talk--all that doing good to one's neighbor!\r
+What I want is that our children should not have to go begging. I must\r
+put our affairs in order while I am alive, that's all. And to do that,\r
+order and strictness are essential.... That's all about it!" said he,\r
+clenching his vigorous fist. "And fairness, of course," he added, "for\r
+if the peasant is naked and hungry and has only one miserable horse, he\r
+can do no good either for himself or for me."\r
+\r
+And all Nicholas did was fruitful--probably just because he refused to\r
+allow himself to think that he was doing good to others for virtue's\r
+sake. His means increased rapidly; serfs from neighboring estates came\r
+to beg him to buy them, and long after his death the memory of his\r
+administration was devoutly preserved among the serfs. "He was a\r
+master... the peasants' affairs first and then his own. Of course he was\r
+not to be trifled with either--in a word, he was a real master!"\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+One matter connected with his management sometimes worried Nicholas, and\r
+that was his quick temper together with his old hussar habit of making\r
+free use of his fists. At first he saw nothing reprehensible in this,\r
+but in the second year of his marriage his view of that form of\r
+punishment suddenly changed.\r
+\r
+Once in summer he had sent for the village elder from Bogucharovo, a man\r
+who had succeeded to the post when Dron died and who was accused of\r
+dishonesty and various irregularities. Nicholas went out into the porch\r
+to question him, and immediately after the elder had given a few replies\r
+the sound of cries and blows were heard. On returning to lunch Nicholas\r
+went up to his wife, who sat with her head bent low over her embroidery\r
+frame, and as usual began to tell her what he had been doing that\r
+morning. Among other things he spoke of the Bogucharovo elder. Countess\r
+Mary turned red and then pale, but continued to sit with head bowed and\r
+lips compressed and gave her husband no reply.\r
+\r
+"Such an insolent scoundrel!" he cried, growing hot again at the mere\r
+recollection of him. "If he had told me he was drunk and did not see...\r
+But what is the matter with you, Mary?" he suddenly asked.\r
+\r
+Countess Mary raised her head and tried to speak, but hastily looked\r
+down again and her lips puckered.\r
+\r
+"Why, whatever is the matter, my dearest?"\r
+\r
+The looks of the plain Countess Mary always improved when she was in\r
+tears. She never cried from pain or vexation, but always from sorrow or\r
+pity, and when she wept her radiant eyes acquired an irresistible charm.\r
+\r
+The moment Nicholas took her hand she could no longer restrain herself\r
+and began to cry.\r
+\r
+"Nicholas, I saw it... he was to blame, but why do you... Nicholas!" and\r
+she covered her face with her hands.\r
+\r
+Nicholas said nothing. He flushed crimson, left her side, and paced up\r
+and down the room. He understood what she was weeping about, but could\r
+not in his heart at once agree with her that what he had regarded from\r
+childhood as quite an everyday event was wrong. "Is it just\r
+sentimentality, old wives' tales, or is she right?" he asked himself.\r
+Before he had solved that point he glanced again at her face filled with\r
+love and pain, and he suddenly realized that she was right and that he\r
+had long been sinning against himself.\r
+\r
+"Mary," he said softly, going up to her, "it will never happen again; I\r
+give you my word. Never," he repeated in a trembling voice like a boy\r
+asking for forgiveness.\r
+\r
+The tears flowed faster still from the countess' eyes. She took his hand\r
+and kissed it.\r
+\r
+"Nicholas, when did you break your cameo?" she asked to change the\r
+subject, looking at his finger on which he wore a ring with a cameo of\r
+Laocoon's head.\r
+\r
+"Today--it was the same affair. Oh, Mary, don't remind me of it!" and\r
+again he flushed. "I give you my word of honor it shan't occur again,\r
+and let this always be a reminder to me," and he pointed to the broken\r
+ring.\r
+\r
+After that, when in discussions with his village elders or stewards the\r
+blood rushed to his face and his fists began to clench, Nicholas would\r
+turn the broken ring on his finger and would drop his eyes before the\r
+man who was making him angry. But he did forget himself once or twice\r
+within a twelvemonth, and then he would go and confess to his wife, and\r
+would again promise that this should really be the very last time.\r
+\r
+"Mary, you must despise me!" he would say. "I deserve it."\r
+\r
+"You should go, go away at once, if you don't feel strong enough to\r
+control yourself," she would reply sadly, trying to comfort her husband.\r
+\r
+Among the gentry of the province Nicholas was respected but not liked.\r
+He did not concern himself with the interests of his own class, and\r
+consequently some thought him proud and others thought him stupid. The\r
+whole summer, from spring sowing to harvest, he was busy with the work\r
+on his farm. In autumn he gave himself up to hunting with the same\r
+business-like seriousness--leaving home for a month, or even two, with\r
+his hunt. In winter he visited his other villages or spent his time\r
+reading. The books he read were chiefly historical, and on these he\r
+spent a certain sum every year. He was collecting, as he said, a serious\r
+library, and he made it a rule to read through all the books he bought.\r
+He would sit in his study with a grave air, reading--a task he first\r
+imposed upon himself as a duty, but which afterwards became a habit\r
+affording him a special kind of pleasure and a consciousness of being\r
+occupied with serious matters. In winter, except for business\r
+excursions, he spent most of his time at home making himself one with\r
+his family and entering into all the details of his children's relations\r
+with their mother. The harmony between him and his wife grew closer and\r
+closer and he daily discovered fresh spiritual treasures in her.\r
+\r
+From the time of his marriage Sonya had lived in his house. Before that,\r
+Nicholas had told his wife all that had passed between himself and\r
+Sonya, blaming himself and commending her. He had asked Princess Mary to\r
+be gentle and kind to his cousin. She thoroughly realized the wrong he\r
+had done Sonya, felt herself to blame toward her, and imagined that her\r
+wealth had influenced Nicholas' choice. She could not find fault with\r
+Sonya in any way and tried to be fond of her, but often felt ill-will\r
+toward her which she could not overcome.\r
+\r
+Once she had a talk with her friend Natasha about Sonya and about her\r
+own injustice toward her.\r
+\r
+"You know," said Natasha, "you have read the Gospels a great deal--there\r
+is a passage in them that just fits Sonya."\r
+\r
+"What?" asked Countess Mary, surprised.\r
+\r
+"'To him that hath shall be given, and from him that hath not shall be\r
+taken away.' You remember? She is one that hath not; why, I don't know.\r
+Perhaps she lacks egotism, I don't know, but from her is taken away, and\r
+everything has been taken away. Sometimes I am dreadfully sorry for her.\r
+Formerly I very much wanted Nicholas to marry her, but I always had a\r
+sort of presentiment that it would not come off. She is a sterile\r
+flower, you know--like some strawberry blossoms. Sometimes I am sorry\r
+for her, and sometimes I think she doesn't feel it as you or I would."\r
+\r
+Though Countess Mary told Natasha that those words in the Gospel must be\r
+understood differently, yet looking at Sonya she agreed with Natasha's\r
+explanation. It really seemed that Sonya did not feel her position\r
+trying, and had grown quite reconciled to her lot as a sterile flower.\r
+She seemed to be fond not so much of individuals as of the family as a\r
+whole. Like a cat, she had attached herself not to the people but to the\r
+home. She waited on the old countess, petted and spoiled the children,\r
+was always ready to render the small services for which she had a gift,\r
+and all this was unconsciously accepted from her with insufficient\r
+gratitude.\r
+\r
+The country seat at Bald Hills had been rebuilt, though not on the same\r
+scale as under the old prince.\r
+\r
+The buildings, begun under straitened circumstances, were more than\r
+simple. The immense house on the old stone foundations was of wood,\r
+plastered only inside. It had bare deal floors and was furnished with\r
+very simple hard sofas, armchairs, tables, and chairs made by their own\r
+serf carpenters out of their own birchwood. The house was spacious and\r
+had rooms for the house serfs and apartments for visitors. Whole\r
+families of the Rostovs' and Bolkonskis' relations sometimes came to\r
+Bald Hills with sixteen horses and dozens of servants and stayed for\r
+months. Besides that, four times a year, on the name days and birthdays\r
+of the hosts, as many as a hundred visitors would gather there for a day\r
+or two. The rest of the year life pursued its unbroken routine with its\r
+ordinary occupations, and its breakfasts, lunches, dinners, and suppers,\r
+provided out of the produce of the estate.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+It was the eve of St. Nicholas, the fifth of December, 1820. Natasha had\r
+been staying at her brother's with her husband and children since early\r
+autumn. Pierre had gone to Petersburg on business of his own for three\r
+weeks as he said, but had remained there nearly seven weeks and was\r
+expected back every minute.\r
+\r
+Besides the Bezukhov family, Nicholas' old friend the retired General\r
+Vasili Dmitrich Denisov was staying with the Rostovs this fifth of\r
+December.\r
+\r
+On the sixth, which was his name day when the house would be full of\r
+visitors, Nicholas knew he would have to exchange his Tartar tunic for a\r
+tail coat, and put on narrow boots with pointed toes, and drive to the\r
+new church he had built, and then receive visitors who would come to\r
+congratulate him, offer them refreshments, and talk about the elections\r
+of the nobility; but he considered himself entitled to spend the eve of\r
+that day in his usual way. He examined the bailiff's accounts of the\r
+village in Ryazan which belonged to his wife's nephew, wrote two\r
+business letters, and walked over to the granaries, cattle yards and\r
+stables before dinner. Having taken precautions against the general\r
+drunkenness to be expected on the morrow because it was a great saint's\r
+day, he returned to dinner, and without having time for a private talk\r
+with his wife sat down at the long table laid for twenty persons, at\r
+which the whole household had assembled. At that table were his mother,\r
+his mother's old lady companion Belova, his wife, their three children\r
+with their governess and tutor, his wife's nephew with his tutor, Sonya,\r
+Denisov, Natasha, her three children, their governess, and old Michael\r
+Ivanovich, the late prince's architect, who was living on in retirement\r
+at Bald Hills.\r
+\r
+Countess Mary sat at the other end of the table. When her husband took\r
+his place she concluded, from the rapid manner in which after taking up\r
+his table napkin he pushed back the tumbler and wineglass standing\r
+before him, that he was out of humor, as was sometimes the case when he\r
+came in to dinner straight from the farm--especially before the soup.\r
+Countess Mary well knew that mood of his, and when she herself was in a\r
+good frame of mind quietly waited till he had had his soup and then\r
+began to talk to him and make him admit that there was no cause for his\r
+ill-humor. But today she quite forgot that and was hurt that he should\r
+be angry with her without any reason, and she felt unhappy. She asked\r
+him where he had been. He replied. She again inquired whether everything\r
+was going well on the farm. Her unnatural tone made him wince\r
+unpleasantly and he replied hastily.\r
+\r
+"Then I'm not mistaken," thought Countess Mary. "Why is he cross with\r
+me?" She concluded from his tone that he was vexed with her and wished\r
+to end the conversation. She knew her remarks sounded unnatural, but\r
+could not refrain from asking some more questions.\r
+\r
+Thanks to Denisov the conversation at table soon became general and\r
+lively, and she did not talk to her husband. When they left the table\r
+and went as usual to thank the old countess, Countess Mary held out her\r
+hand and kissed her husband, and asked him why he was angry with her.\r
+\r
+"You always have such strange fancies! I didn't even think of being\r
+angry," he replied.\r
+\r
+But the word always seemed to her to imply: "Yes, I am angry but I won't\r
+tell you why."\r
+\r
+Nicholas and his wife lived together so happily that even Sonya and the\r
+old countess, who felt jealous and would have liked them to disagree,\r
+could find nothing to reproach them with; but even they had their\r
+moments of antagonism. Occasionally, and it was always just after they\r
+had been happiest together, they suddenly had a feeling of estrangement\r
+and hostility, which occurred most frequently during Countess Mary's\r
+pregnancies, and this was such a time.\r
+\r
+"Well, messieurs et mesdames," said Nicholas loudly and with apparent\r
+cheerfulness (it seemed to Countess Mary that he did it on purpose to\r
+vex her), "I have been on my feet since six this morning. Tomorrow I\r
+shall have to suffer, so today I'll go and rest."\r
+\r
+And without a word to his wife he went to the little sitting room and\r
+lay down on the sofa.\r
+\r
+"That's always the way," thought Countess Mary. "He talks to everyone\r
+except me. I see... I see that I am repulsive to him, especially when I\r
+am in this condition." She looked down at her expanded figure and in the\r
+glass at her pale, sallow, emaciated face in which her eyes now looked\r
+larger than ever.\r
+\r
+And everything annoyed her--Denisov's shouting and laughter, Natasha's\r
+talk, and especially a quick glance Sonya gave her.\r
+\r
+Sonya was always the first excuse Countess Mary found for feeling\r
+irritated.\r
+\r
+Having sat awhile with her visitors without understanding anything of\r
+what they were saying, she softly left the room and went to the nursery.\r
+\r
+The children were playing at "going to Moscow" in a carriage made of\r
+chairs and invited her to go with them. She sat down and played with\r
+them a little, but the thought of her husband and his unreasonable\r
+crossness worried her. She got up and, walking on tiptoe with\r
+difficulty, went to the small sitting room.\r
+\r
+"Perhaps he is not asleep; I'll have an explanation with him," she said\r
+to herself. Little Andrew, her eldest boy, imitating his mother,\r
+followed her on tiptoe. She did not notice him.\r
+\r
+"Mary, dear, I think he is asleep--he was so tired," said Sonya, meeting\r
+her in the large sitting room (it seemed to Countess Mary that she\r
+crossed her path everywhere). "Andrew may wake him."\r
+\r
+Countess Mary looked round, saw little Andrew following her, felt that\r
+Sonya was right, and for that very reason flushed and with evident\r
+difficulty refrained from saying something harsh. She made no reply, but\r
+to avoid obeying Sonya beckoned to Andrew to follow her quietly and went\r
+to the door. Sonya went away by another door. From the room in which\r
+Nicholas was sleeping came the sound of his even breathing, every\r
+slightest tone of which was familiar to his wife. As she listened to it\r
+she saw before her his smooth handsome forehead, his mustache, and his\r
+whole face, as she had so often seen it in the stillness of the night\r
+when he slept. Nicholas suddenly moved and cleared his throat. And at\r
+that moment little Andrew shouted from outside the door: "Papa! Mamma's\r
+standing here!" Countess Mary turned pale with fright and made signs to\r
+the boy. He grew silent, and quiet ensued for a moment, terrible to\r
+Countess Mary. She knew how Nicholas disliked being waked. Then through\r
+the door she heard Nicholas clearing his throat again and stirring, and\r
+his voice said crossly:\r
+\r
+"I can't get a moment's peace.... Mary, is that you? Why did you bring\r
+him here?"\r
+\r
+"I only came in to look and did not notice... forgive me..."\r
+\r
+Nicholas coughed and said no more. Countess Mary moved away from the\r
+door and took the boy back to the nursery. Five minutes later little\r
+black-eyed three-year-old Natasha, her father's pet, having learned from\r
+her brother that Papa was asleep and Mamma was in the sitting room, ran\r
+to her father unobserved by her mother. The dark-eyed little girl boldly\r
+opened the creaking door, went up to the sofa with energetic steps of\r
+her sturdy little legs, and having examined the position of her father,\r
+who was asleep with his back to her, rose on tiptoe and kissed the hand\r
+which lay under his head. Nicholas turned with a tender smile on his\r
+face.\r
+\r
+"Natasha, Natasha!" came Countess Mary's frightened whisper from the\r
+door. "Papa wants to sleep."\r
+\r
+"No, Mamma, he doesn't want to sleep," said little Natasha with\r
+conviction. "He's laughing."\r
+\r
+Nicholas lowered his legs, rose, and took his daughter in his arms.\r
+\r
+"Come in, Mary," he said to his wife.\r
+\r
+She went in and sat down by her husband.\r
+\r
+"I did not notice him following me," she said timidly. "I just looked\r
+in."\r
+\r
+Holding his little girl with one arm, Nicholas glanced at his wife and,\r
+seeing her guilty expression, put his other arm around her and kissed\r
+her hair.\r
+\r
+"May I kiss Mamma?" he asked Natasha.\r
+\r
+Natasha smiled bashfully.\r
+\r
+"Again!" she commanded, pointing with a peremptory gesture to the spot\r
+where Nicholas had placed the kiss.\r
+\r
+"I don't know why you think I am cross," said Nicholas, replying to the\r
+question he knew was in his wife's mind.\r
+\r
+"You have no idea how unhappy, how lonely, I feel when you are like\r
+that. It always seems to me..."\r
+\r
+"Mary, don't talk nonsense. You ought to be ashamed of yourself!" he\r
+said gaily.\r
+\r
+"It seems to be that you can't love me, that I am so plain... always...\r
+and now... in this cond..."\r
+\r
+"Oh, how absurd you are! It is not beauty that endears, it's love that\r
+makes us see beauty. It is only Malvinas and women of that kind who are\r
+loved for their beauty. But do I love my wife? I don't love her, but...\r
+I don't know how to put it. Without you, or when something comes between\r
+us like this, I seem lost and can't do anything. Now do I love my\r
+finger? I don't love it, but just try to cut it off!"\r
+\r
+"I'm not like that myself, but I understand. So you're not angry with\r
+me?"\r
+\r
+"Awfully angry!" he said, smiling and getting up. And smoothing his hair\r
+he began to pace the room.\r
+\r
+"Do you know, Mary, what I've been thinking?" he began, immediately\r
+thinking aloud in his wife's presence now that they had made it up.\r
+\r
+He did not ask if she was ready to listen to him. He did not care. A\r
+thought had occurred to him and so it belonged to her also. And he told\r
+her of his intention to persuade Pierre to stay with them till spring.\r
+\r
+Countess Mary listened till he had finished, made some remark, and in\r
+her turn began thinking aloud. Her thoughts were about the children.\r
+\r
+"You can see the woman in her already," she said in French, pointing to\r
+little Natasha. "You reproach us women with being illogical. Here is our\r
+logic. I say: 'Papa wants to sleep!' but she says, 'No, he's laughing.'\r
+And she was right," said Countess Mary with a happy smile.\r
+\r
+"Yes, yes." And Nicholas, taking his little daughter in his strong hand,\r
+lifted her high, placed her on his shoulder, held her by the legs, and\r
+paced the room with her. There was an expression of carefree happiness\r
+on the faces of both father and daughter.\r
+\r
+"But you know you may be unfair. You are too fond of this one," his wife\r
+whispered in French.\r
+\r
+"Yes, but what am I to do?... I try not to show..."\r
+\r
+At that moment they heard the sound of the door pulley and footsteps in\r
+the hall and anteroom, as if someone had arrived.\r
+\r
+"Somebody has come."\r
+\r
+"I am sure it is Pierre. I will go and see," said Countess Mary and left\r
+the room.\r
+\r
+In her absence Nicholas allowed himself to give his little daughter a\r
+gallop round the room. Out of breath, he took the laughing child quickly\r
+from his shoulder and pressed her to his heart. His capers reminded him\r
+of dancing, and looking at the child's round happy little face he\r
+thought of what she would be like when he was an old man, taking her\r
+into society and dancing the mazurka with her as his old father had\r
+danced Daniel Cooper with his daughter.\r
+\r
+"It is he, it is he, Nicholas!" said Countess Mary, re-entering the room\r
+a few minutes later. "Now our Natasha has come to life. You should have\r
+seen her ecstasy, and how he caught it for having stayed away so long.\r
+Well, come along now, quick, quick! It's time you two were parted," she\r
+added, looking smilingly at the little girl who clung to her father.\r
+\r
+Nicholas went out holding the child by the hand.\r
+\r
+Countess Mary remained in the sitting room.\r
+\r
+"I should never, never have believed that one could be so happy," she\r
+whispered to herself. A smile lit up her face but at the same time she\r
+sighed, and her deep eyes expressed a quiet sadness as though she felt,\r
+through her happiness, that there is another sort of happiness\r
+unattainable in this life and of which she involuntarily thought at that\r
+instant.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+Natasha had married in the early spring of 1813, and in 1820 already had\r
+three daughters besides a son for whom she had longed and whom she was\r
+now nursing. She had grown stouter and broader, so that it was difficult\r
+to recognize in this robust, motherly woman the slim, lively Natasha of\r
+former days. Her features were more defined and had a calm, soft, and\r
+serene expression. In her face there was none of the ever-glowing\r
+animation that had formerly burned there and constituted its charm. Now\r
+her face and body were often all that one saw, and her soul was not\r
+visible at all. All that struck the eye was a strong, handsome, and\r
+fertile woman. The old fire very rarely kindled in her face now. That\r
+happened only when, as was the case that day, her husband returned home,\r
+or a sick child was convalescent, or when she and Countess Mary spoke of\r
+Prince Andrew (she never mentioned him to her husband, who she imagined\r
+was jealous of Prince Andrew's memory), or on the rare occasions when\r
+something happened to induce her to sing, a practice she had quite\r
+abandoned since her marriage. At the rare moments when the old fire did\r
+kindle in her handsome, fully developed body she was even more\r
+attractive than in former days.\r
+\r
+Since their marriage Natasha and her husband had lived in Moscow, in\r
+Petersburg, on their estate near Moscow, or with her mother, that is to\r
+say, in Nicholas' house. The young Countess Bezukhova was not often seen\r
+in society, and those who met her there were not pleased with her and\r
+found her neither attractive nor amiable. Not that Natasha liked\r
+solitude--she did not know whether she liked it or not, she even thought\r
+that she did not--but with her pregnancies, her confinements, the\r
+nursing of her children, and sharing every moment of her husband's life,\r
+she had demands on her time which could be satisfied only by renouncing\r
+society. All who had known Natasha before her marriage wondered at the\r
+change in her as at something extraordinary. Only the old countess with\r
+her maternal instinct had realized that all Natasha's outbursts had been\r
+due to her need of children and a husband--as she herself had once\r
+exclaimed at Otradnoe not so much in fun as in earnest--and her mother\r
+was now surprised at the surprise expressed by those who had never\r
+understood Natasha, and she kept saying that she had always known that\r
+Natasha would make an exemplary wife and mother.\r
+\r
+"Only she lets her love of her husband and children overflow all\r
+bounds," said the countess, "so that it even becomes absurd."\r
+\r
+Natasha did not follow the golden rule advocated by clever folk,\r
+especially by the French, which says that a girl should not let herself\r
+go when she marries, should not neglect her accomplishments, should be\r
+even more careful of her appearance than when she was unmarried, and\r
+should fascinate her husband as much as she did before he became her\r
+husband. Natasha on the contrary had at once abandoned all her witchery,\r
+of which her singing had been an unusually powerful part. She gave it up\r
+just because it was so powerfully seductive. She took no pains with her\r
+manners or with delicacy of speech, or with her toilet, or to show\r
+herself to her husband in her most becoming attitudes, or to avoid\r
+inconveniencing him by being too exacting. She acted in contradiction to\r
+all those rules. She felt that the allurements instinct had formerly\r
+taught her to use would now be merely ridiculous in the eyes of her\r
+husband, to whom she had from the first moment given herself up\r
+entirely--that is, with her whole soul, leaving no corner of it hidden\r
+from him. She felt that her unity with her husband was not maintained by\r
+the poetic feelings that had attracted him to her, but by something\r
+else--indefinite but firm as the bond between her own body and soul.\r
+\r
+To fluff out her curls, put on fashionable dresses, and sing romantic\r
+songs to fascinate her husband would have seemed as strange as to adorn\r
+herself to attract herself. To adorn herself for others might perhaps\r
+have been agreeable--she did not know--but she had no time at all for\r
+it. The chief reason for devoting no time either to singing, to dress,\r
+or to choosing her words was that she really had no time to spare for\r
+these things.\r
+\r
+We know that man has the faculty of becoming completely absorbed in a\r
+subject however trivial it may be, and that there is no subject so\r
+trivial that it will not grow to infinite proportions if one's entire\r
+attention is devoted to it.\r
+\r
+The subject which wholly engrossed Natasha's attention was her family:\r
+that is, her husband whom she had to keep so that he should belong\r
+entirely to her and to the home, and the children whom she had to bear,\r
+bring into the world, nurse, and bring up.\r
+\r
+And the deeper she penetrated, not with her mind only but with her whole\r
+soul, her whole being, into the subject that absorbed her, the larger\r
+did that subject grow and the weaker and more inadequate did her powers\r
+appear, so that she concentrated them wholly on that one thing and yet\r
+was unable to accomplish all that she considered necessary.\r
+\r
+There were then as now conversations and discussions about women's\r
+rights, the relations of husband and wife and their freedom and rights,\r
+though these themes were not yet termed questions as they are now; but\r
+these topics were not merely uninteresting to Natasha, she positively\r
+did not understand them.\r
+\r
+These questions, then as now, existed only for those who see nothing in\r
+marriage but the pleasure married people get from one another, that is,\r
+only the beginnings of marriage and not its whole significance, which\r
+lies in the family.\r
+\r
+Discussions and questions of that kind, which are like the question of\r
+how to get the greatest gratification from one's dinner, did not then\r
+and do not now exist for those for whom the purpose of a dinner is the\r
+nourishment it affords; and the purpose of marriage is the family.\r
+\r
+If the purpose of dinner is to nourish the body, a man who eats two\r
+dinners at once may perhaps get more enjoyment but will not attain his\r
+purpose, for his stomach will not digest the two dinners.\r
+\r
+If the purpose of marriage is the family, the person who wishes to have\r
+many wives or husbands may perhaps obtain much pleasure, but in that\r
+case will not have a family.\r
+\r
+If the purpose of food is nourishment and the purpose of marriage is the\r
+family, the whole question resolves itself into not eating more than one\r
+can digest, and not having more wives or husbands than are needed for\r
+the family--that is, one wife or one husband. Natasha needed a husband.\r
+A husband was given her and he gave her a family. And she not only saw\r
+no need of any other or better husband, but as all the powers of her\r
+soul were intent on serving that husband and family, she could not\r
+imagine and saw no interest in imagining how it would be if things were\r
+different.\r
+\r
+Natasha did not care for society in general, but prized the more the\r
+society of her relatives--Countess Mary, and her brother, her mother,\r
+and Sonya. She valued the company of those to whom she could come\r
+striding disheveled from the nursery in her dressing gown, and with\r
+joyful face show a yellow instead of a green stain on baby's napkin, and\r
+from whom she could hear reassuring words to the effect that baby was\r
+much better.\r
+\r
+To such an extent had Natasha let herself go that the way she dressed\r
+and did her hair, her ill-chosen words, and her jealousy--she was\r
+jealous of Sonya, of the governess, and of every woman, pretty or plain-\r
+-were habitual subjects of jest to those about her. The general opinion\r
+was that Pierre was under his wife's thumb, which was really true. From\r
+the very first days of their married life Natasha had announced her\r
+demands. Pierre was greatly surprised by his wife's view, to him a\r
+perfectly novel one, that every moment of his life belonged to her and\r
+to the family. His wife's demands astonished him, but they also\r
+flattered him, and he submitted to them.\r
+\r
+Pierre's subjection consisted in the fact that he not only dared not\r
+flirt with, but dared not even speak smilingly to, any other woman; did\r
+not dare dine at the club as a pastime, did not dare spend money on a\r
+whim, and did not dare absent himself for any length of time, except on\r
+business--in which his wife included his intellectual pursuits, which\r
+she did not in the least understand but to which she attributed great\r
+importance. To make up for this, at home Pierre had the right to\r
+regulate his life and that of the whole family exactly as he chose. At\r
+home Natasha placed herself in the position of a slave to her husband,\r
+and the whole household went on tiptoe when he was occupied--that is,\r
+was reading or writing in his study. Pierre had but to show a partiality\r
+for anything to get just what he liked done always. He had only to\r
+express a wish and Natasha would jump up and run to fulfill it.\r
+\r
+The entire household was governed according to Pierre's supposed orders,\r
+that is, by his wishes which Natasha tried to guess. Their way of life\r
+and place of residence, their acquaintances and ties, Natasha's\r
+occupations, the children's upbringing, were all selected not merely\r
+with regard to Pierre's expressed wishes, but to what Natasha from the\r
+thoughts he expressed in conversation supposed his wishes to be. And she\r
+deduced the essentials of his wishes quite correctly, and having once\r
+arrived at them clung to them tenaciously. When Pierre himself wanted to\r
+change his mind she would fight him with his own weapons.\r
+\r
+Thus in a time of trouble ever memorable to him after the birth of their\r
+first child who was delicate, when they had to change the wet nurse\r
+three times and Natasha fell ill from despair, Pierre one day told her\r
+of Rousseau's view, with which he quite agreed, that to have a wet nurse\r
+is unnatural and harmful. When her next baby was born, despite the\r
+opposition of her mother, the doctors, and even of her husband himself--\r
+who were all vigorously opposed to her nursing her baby herself, a thing\r
+then unheard of and considered injurious--she insisted on having her own\r
+way, and after that nursed all her babies herself.\r
+\r
+It very often happened that in a moment of irritation husband and wife\r
+would have a dispute, but long afterwards Pierre to his surprise and\r
+delight would find in his wife's ideas and actions the very thought\r
+against which she had argued, but divested of everything superfluous\r
+that in the excitement of the dispute he had added when expressing his\r
+opinion.\r
+\r
+After seven years of marriage Pierre had the joyous and firm\r
+consciousness that he was not a bad man, and he felt this because he saw\r
+himself reflected in his wife. He felt the good and bad within himself\r
+inextricably mingled and overlapping. But only what was really good in\r
+him was reflected in his wife, all that was not quite good was rejected.\r
+And this was not the result of logical reasoning but was a direct and\r
+mysterious reflection.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+Two months previously when Pierre was already staying with the Rostovs\r
+he had received a letter from Prince Theodore, asking him to come to\r
+Petersburg to confer on some important questions that were being\r
+discussed there by a society of which Pierre was one of the principal\r
+founders.\r
+\r
+On reading that letter (she always read her husband's letters) Natasha\r
+herself suggested that he should go to Petersburg, though she would feel\r
+his absence very acutely. She attributed immense importance to all her\r
+husband's intellectual and abstract interests though she did not\r
+understand them, and she always dreaded being a hindrance to him in such\r
+matters. To Pierre's timid look of inquiry after reading the letter she\r
+replied by asking him to go, but to fix a definite date for his return.\r
+He was given four weeks' leave of absence.\r
+\r
+Ever since that leave of absence had expired, more than a fortnight\r
+before, Natasha had been in a constant state of alarm, depression, and\r
+irritability.\r
+\r
+Denisov, now a general on the retired list and much dissatisfied with\r
+the present state of affairs, had arrived during that fortnight. He\r
+looked at Natasha with sorrow and surprise as at a bad likeness of a\r
+person once dear. A dull, dejected look, random replies, and talk about\r
+the nursery was all he saw and heard from his former enchantress.\r
+\r
+Natasha was sad and irritable all that time, especially when her mother,\r
+her brother, Sonya, or Countess Mary in their efforts to console her\r
+tried to excuse Pierre and suggested reasons for his delay in returning.\r
+\r
+"It's all nonsense, all rubbish--those discussions which lead to nothing\r
+and all those idiotic societies!" Natasha declared of the very affairs\r
+in the immense importance of which she firmly believed.\r
+\r
+And she would go to the nursery to nurse Petya, her only boy. No one\r
+else could tell her anything so comforting or so reasonable as this\r
+little three-month-old creature when he lay at her breast and she was\r
+conscious of the movement of his lips and the snuffling of his little\r
+nose. That creature said: "You are angry, you are jealous, you would\r
+like to pay him out, you are afraid--but here am I! And I am he..." and\r
+that was unanswerable. It was more than true.\r
+\r
+During that fortnight of anxiety Natasha resorted to the baby for\r
+comfort so often, and fussed over him so much, that she overfed him and\r
+he fell ill. She was terrified by his illness, and yet that was just\r
+what she needed. While attending to him she bore the anxiety about her\r
+husband more easily.\r
+\r
+She was nursing her boy when the sound of Pierre's sleigh was heard at\r
+the front door, and the old nurse--knowing how to please her mistress--\r
+entered the room inaudibly but hurriedly and with a beaming face.\r
+\r
+"Has he come?" Natasha asked quickly in a whisper, afraid to move lest\r
+she should rouse the dozing baby.\r
+\r
+"He's come, ma'am," whispered the nurse.\r
+\r
+The blood rushed to Natasha's face and her feet involuntarily moved, but\r
+she could not jump up and run out. The baby again opened his eyes and\r
+looked at her. "You're here?" he seemed to be saying, and again lazily\r
+smacked his lips.\r
+\r
+Cautiously withdrawing her breast, Natasha rocked him a little, handed\r
+him to the nurse, and went with rapid steps toward the door. But at the\r
+door she stopped as if her conscience reproached her for having in her\r
+joy left the child too soon, and she glanced round. The nurse with\r
+raised elbows was lifting the infant over the rail of his cot.\r
+\r
+"Go, ma'am! Don't worry, go!" she whispered, smiling, with the kind of\r
+familiarity that grows up between a nurse and her mistress.\r
+\r
+Natasha ran with light footsteps to the anteroom.\r
+\r
+Denisov, who had come out of the study into the dancing room with his\r
+pipe, now for the first time recognized the old Natasha. A flood of\r
+brilliant, joyful light poured from her transfigured face.\r
+\r
+"He's come!" she exclaimed as she ran past, and Denisov felt that he too\r
+was delighted that Pierre, whom he did not much care for, had returned.\r
+\r
+On reaching the vestibule Natasha saw a tall figure in a fur coat\r
+unwinding his scarf. "It's he! It's really he! He has come!" she said to\r
+herself, and rushing at him embraced him, pressed his head to her\r
+breast, and then pushed him back and gazed at his ruddy, happy face,\r
+covered with hoarfrost. "Yes, it is he, happy and contented..."\r
+\r
+Then all at once she remembered the tortures of suspense she had\r
+experienced for the last fortnight, and the joy that had lit up her face\r
+vanished; she frowned and overwhelmed Pierre with a torrent of\r
+reproaches and angry words.\r
+\r
+"Yes, it's all very well for you. You are pleased, you've had a good\r
+time.... But what about me? You might at least have shown consideration\r
+for the children. I am nursing and my milk was spoiled.... Petya was at\r
+death's door. But you were enjoying yourself. Yes, enjoying..."\r
+\r
+Pierre knew he was not to blame, for he could not have come sooner; he\r
+knew this outburst was unseemly and would blow over in a minute or two;\r
+above all he knew that he himself was bright and happy. He wanted to\r
+smile but dared not even think of doing so. He made a piteous,\r
+frightened face and bent down.\r
+\r
+"I could not, on my honor. But how is Petya?"\r
+\r
+"All right now. Come along! I wonder you're not ashamed! If only you\r
+could see what I was like without you, how I suffered!"\r
+\r
+"You are well?"\r
+\r
+"Come, come!" she said, not letting go of his arm. And they went to\r
+their rooms.\r
+\r
+When Nicholas and his wife came to look for Pierre he was in the nursery\r
+holding his baby son, who was again awake, on his huge right palm and\r
+dandling him. A blissful bright smile was fixed on the baby's broad face\r
+with its toothless open mouth. The storm was long since over and there\r
+was bright, joyous sunshine on Natasha's face as she gazed tenderly at\r
+her husband and child.\r
+\r
+"And have you talked everything well over with Prince Theodore?" she\r
+asked.\r
+\r
+"Yes, capitally."\r
+\r
+"You see, he holds it up." (She meant the baby's head.) "But how he did\r
+frighten me... You've seen the princess? Is it true she's in love with\r
+that..."\r
+\r
+"Yes, just fancy..."\r
+\r
+At that moment Nicholas and Countess Mary came in. Pierre with the baby\r
+on his hand stooped, kissed them, and replied to their inquiries. But in\r
+spite of much that was interesting and had to be discussed, the baby\r
+with the little cap on its unsteady head evidently absorbed all his\r
+attention.\r
+\r
+"How sweet!" said Countess Mary, looking at and playing with the baby.\r
+"Now, Nicholas," she added, turning to her husband, "I can't understand\r
+how it is you don't see the charm of these delicious marvels."\r
+\r
+"I don't and can't," replied Nicholas, looking coldly at the baby. "A\r
+lump of flesh. Come along, Pierre!"\r
+\r
+"And yet he's such an affectionate father," said Countess Mary,\r
+vindicating her husband, "but only after they are a year old or so..."\r
+\r
+"Now, Pierre nurses them splendidly," said Natasha. "He says his hand is\r
+just made for a baby's seat. Just look!"\r
+\r
+"Only not for this..." Pierre suddenly exclaimed with a laugh, and\r
+shifting the baby he gave him to the nurse.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+As in every large household, there were at Bald Hills several perfectly\r
+distinct worlds which merged into one harmonious whole, though each\r
+retained its own peculiarities and made concessions to the others. Every\r
+event, joyful or sad, that took place in that house was important to all\r
+these worlds, but each had its own special reasons to rejoice or grieve\r
+over that occurrence independently of the others.\r
+\r
+For instance, Pierre's return was a joyful and important event and they\r
+all felt it to be so.\r
+\r
+The servants--the most reliable judges of their masters because they\r
+judge not by their conversation or expressions of feeling but by their\r
+acts and way of life--were glad of Pierre's return because they knew\r
+that when he was there Count Nicholas would cease going every day to\r
+attend to the estate, and would be in better spirits and temper, and\r
+also because they would all receive handsome presents for the holidays.\r
+\r
+The children and their governesses were glad of Pierre's return because\r
+no one else drew them into the social life of the household as he did.\r
+He alone could play on the clavichord that ecossaise (his only piece) to\r
+which, as he said, all possible dances could be danced, and they felt\r
+sure he had brought presents for them all.\r
+\r
+Young Nicholas, now a slim lad of fifteen, delicate and intelligent,\r
+with curly light-brown hair and beautiful eyes, was delighted because\r
+Uncle Pierre as he called him was the object of his rapturous and\r
+passionate affection. No one had instilled into him this love for Pierre\r
+whom he saw only occasionally. Countess Mary who had brought him up had\r
+done her utmost to make him love her husband as she loved him, and\r
+little Nicholas did love his uncle, but loved him with just a shade of\r
+contempt. Pierre, however, he adored. He did not want to be an hussar or\r
+a Knight of St. George like his uncle Nicholas; he wanted to be learned,\r
+wise, and kind like Pierre. In Pierre's presence his face always shone\r
+with pleasure and he flushed and was breathless when Pierre spoke to\r
+him. He did not miss a single word he uttered, and would afterwards,\r
+with Dessalles or by himself, recall and reconsider the meaning of\r
+everything Pierre had said. Pierre's past life and his unhappiness prior\r
+to 1812 (of which young Nicholas had formed a vague poetic picture from\r
+some words he had overheard), his adventures in Moscow, his captivity,\r
+Platon Karataev (of whom he had heard from Pierre), his love for Natasha\r
+(of whom the lad was also particularly fond), and especially Pierre's\r
+friendship with the father whom Nicholas could not remember--all this\r
+made Pierre in his eyes a hero and a saint.\r
+\r
+From broken remarks about Natasha and his father, from the emotion with\r
+which Pierre spoke of that dead father, and from the careful, reverent\r
+tenderness with which Natasha spoke of him, the boy, who was only just\r
+beginning to guess what love is, derived the notion that his father had\r
+loved Natasha and when dying had left her to his friend. But the father\r
+whom the boy did not remember appeared to him a divinity who could not\r
+be pictured, and of whom he never thought without a swelling heart and\r
+tears of sadness and rapture. So the boy also was happy that Pierre had\r
+arrived.\r
+\r
+The guests welcomed Pierre because he always helped to enliven and unite\r
+any company he was in.\r
+\r
+The grown-up members of the family, not to mention his wife, were\r
+pleased to have back a friend whose presence made life run more smoothly\r
+and peacefully.\r
+\r
+The old ladies were pleased with the presents he brought them, and\r
+especially that Natasha would now be herself again.\r
+\r
+Pierre felt the different outlooks of these various worlds and made\r
+haste to satisfy all their expectations.\r
+\r
+Though the most absent-minded and forgetful of men, Pierre, with the aid\r
+of a list his wife drew up, had now bought everything, not forgetting\r
+his mother--and brother-in-law's commissions, nor the dress material for\r
+a present to Belova, nor toys for his wife's nephews. In the early days\r
+of his marriage it had seemed strange to him that his wife should expect\r
+him not to forget to procure all the things he undertook to buy, and he\r
+had been taken aback by her serious annoyance when on his first trip he\r
+forgot everything. But in time he grew used to this demand. Knowing that\r
+Natasha asked nothing for herself, and gave him commissions for others\r
+only when he himself had offered to undertake them, he now found an\r
+unexpected and childlike pleasure in this purchase of presents for\r
+everyone in the house, and never forgot anything. If he now incurred\r
+Natasha's censure it was only for buying too many and too expensive\r
+things. To her other defects (as most people thought them, but which to\r
+Pierre were qualities) of untidiness and neglect of herself, she now\r
+added stinginess.\r
+\r
+From the time that Pierre began life as a family man on a footing\r
+entailing heavy expenditure, he had noticed to his surprise that he\r
+spent only half as much as before, and that his affairs--which had been\r
+in disorder of late, chiefly because of his first wife's debts--had\r
+begun to improve.\r
+\r
+Life was cheaper because it was circumscribed: that most expensive\r
+luxury, the kind of life that can be changed at any moment, was no\r
+longer his nor did he wish for it. He felt that his way of life had now\r
+been settled once for all till death and that to change it was not in\r
+his power, and so that way of life proved economical.\r
+\r
+With a merry, smiling face Pierre was sorting his purchases.\r
+\r
+"What do you think of this?" said he, unrolling a piece of stuff like a\r
+shopman.\r
+\r
+Natasha, who was sitting opposite to him with her eldest daughter on her\r
+lap, turned her sparkling eyes swiftly from her husband to the things he\r
+showed her.\r
+\r
+"That's for Belova? Excellent!" She felt the quality of the material.\r
+"It was a ruble an arshin, I suppose?"\r
+\r
+Pierre told her the price.\r
+\r
+"Too dear!" Natasha remarked. "How pleased the children will be and\r
+Mamma too! Only you need not have bought me this," she added, unable to\r
+suppress a smile as she gazed admiringly at a gold comb set with pearls,\r
+of a kind then just coming into fashion.\r
+\r
+"Adele tempted me: she kept on telling me to buy it," returned Pierre.\r
+\r
+"When am I to wear it?" and Natasha stuck it in her coil of hair. "When\r
+I take little Masha into society? Perhaps they will be fashionable again\r
+by then. Well, let's go now."\r
+\r
+And collecting the presents they went first to the nursery and then to\r
+the old countess' rooms.\r
+\r
+The countess was sitting with her companion Belova, playing grand-\r
+patience as usual, when Pierre and Natasha came into the drawing room\r
+with parcels under their arms.\r
+\r
+The countess was now over sixty, was quite gray, and wore a cap with a\r
+frill that surrounded her face. Her face had shriveled, her upper lip\r
+had sunk in, and her eyes were dim.\r
+\r
+After the deaths of her son and husband in such rapid succession, she\r
+felt herself a being accidentally forgotten in this world and left\r
+without aim or object for her existence. She ate, drank, slept, or kept\r
+awake, but did not live. Life gave her no new impressions. She wanted\r
+nothing from life but tranquillity, and that tranquillity only death\r
+could give her. But until death came she had to go on living, that is,\r
+to use her vital forces. A peculiarity one sees in very young children\r
+and very old people was particularly evident in her. Her life had no\r
+external aims--only a need to exercise her various functions and\r
+inclinations was apparent. She had to eat, sleep, think, speak, weep,\r
+work, give vent to her anger, and so on, merely because she had a\r
+stomach, a brain, muscles, nerves, and a liver. She did these things not\r
+under any external impulse as people in the full vigor of life do, when\r
+behind the purpose for which they strive that of exercising their\r
+functions remains unnoticed. She talked only because she physically\r
+needed to exercise her tongue and lungs. She cried as a child does,\r
+because her nose had to be cleared, and so on. What for people in their\r
+full vigor is an aim was for her evidently merely a pretext.\r
+\r
+Thus in the morning--especially if she had eaten anything rich the day\r
+before--she felt a need of being angry and would choose as the handiest\r
+pretext Belova's deafness.\r
+\r
+She would begin to say something to her in a low tone from the other end\r
+of the room.\r
+\r
+"It seems a little warmer today, my dear," she would murmur.\r
+\r
+And when Belova replied: "Oh yes, they've come," she would mutter\r
+angrily: "O Lord! How stupid and deaf she is!"\r
+\r
+Another pretext would be her snuff, which would seem too dry or too damp\r
+or not rubbed fine enough. After these fits of irritability her face\r
+would grow yellow, and her maids knew by infallible symptoms when Belova\r
+would again be deaf, the snuff damp, and the countess' face yellow. Just\r
+as she needed to work off her spleen so she had sometimes to exercise\r
+her still-existing faculty of thinking--and the pretext for that was a\r
+game of patience. When she needed to cry, the deceased count would be\r
+the pretext. When she wanted to be agitated, Nicholas and his health\r
+would be the pretext, and when she felt a need to speak spitefully, the\r
+pretext would be Countess Mary. When her vocal organs needed exercise,\r
+which was usually toward seven o'clock when she had had an after-dinner\r
+rest in a darkened room, the pretext would be the retelling of the same\r
+stories over and over again to the same audience.\r
+\r
+The old lady's condition was understood by the whole household though no\r
+one ever spoke of it, and they all made every possible effort to satisfy\r
+her needs. Only by a rare glance exchanged with a sad smile between\r
+Nicholas, Pierre, Natasha, and Countess Mary was the common\r
+understanding of her condition expressed.\r
+\r
+But those glances expressed something more: they said that she had\r
+played her part in life, that what they now saw was not her whole self,\r
+that we must all become like her, and that they were glad to yield to\r
+her, to restrain themselves for this once precious being formerly as\r
+full of life as themselves, but now so much to be pitied. "Memento\r
+mori," said these glances.\r
+\r
+Only the really heartless, the stupid ones of that household, and the\r
+little children failed to understand this and avoided her.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIII\r
+\r
+When Pierre and his wife entered the drawing room the countess was in\r
+one of her customary states in which she needed the mental exertion of\r
+playing patience, and so--though by force of habit she greeted him with\r
+the words she always used when Pierre or her son returned after an\r
+absence: "High time, my dear, high time! We were all weary of waiting\r
+for you. Well, thank God!" and received her presents with another\r
+customary remark: "It's not the gift that's precious, my dear, but that\r
+you give it to me, an old woman..."--yet it was evident that she was not\r
+pleased by Pierre's arrival at that moment when it diverted her\r
+attention from the unfinished game.\r
+\r
+She finished her game of patience and only then examined the presents.\r
+They consisted of a box for cards, of splendid workmanship, a bright-\r
+blue Sevres tea cup with shepherdesses depicted on it and with a lid,\r
+and a gold snuffbox with the count's portrait on the lid which Pierre\r
+had had done by a miniaturist in Petersburg. The countess had long\r
+wished for such a box, but as she did not want to cry just then she\r
+glanced indifferently at the portrait and gave her attention chiefly to\r
+the box for cards.\r
+\r
+"Thank you, my dear, you have cheered me up," said she as she always\r
+did. "But best of all you have brought yourself back--for I never saw\r
+anything like it, you ought to give your wife a scolding! What are we to\r
+do with her? She is like a mad woman when you are away. Doesn't see\r
+anything, doesn't remember anything," she went on, repeating her usual\r
+phrases. "Look, Anna Timofeevna," she added to her companion, "see what\r
+a box for cards my son has brought us!"\r
+\r
+Belova admired the presents and was delighted with her dress material.\r
+\r
+Though Pierre, Natasha, Nicholas, Countess Mary, and Denisov had much to\r
+talk about that they could not discuss before the old countess--not that\r
+anything was hidden from her, but because she had dropped so far\r
+behindhand in many things that had they begun to converse in her\r
+presence they would have had to answer inopportune questions and to\r
+repeat what they had already told her many times: that so-and-so was\r
+dead and so-and-so was married, which she would again be unable to\r
+remember--yet they sat at tea round the samovar in the drawing room from\r
+habit, and Pierre answered the countess' questions as to whether Prince\r
+Vasili had aged and whether Countess Mary Alexeevna had sent greetings\r
+and still thought of them, and other matters that interested no one and\r
+to which she herself was indifferent.\r
+\r
+Conversation of this kind, interesting to no one yet unavoidable,\r
+continued all through teatime. All the grown-up members of the family\r
+were assembled near the round tea table at which Sonya presided beside\r
+the samovar. The children with their tutors and governesses had had tea\r
+and their voices were audible from the next room. At tea all sat in\r
+their accustomed places: Nicholas beside the stove at a small table\r
+where his tea was handed to him; Milka, the old gray borzoi bitch\r
+(daughter of the first Milka), with a quite gray face and large black\r
+eyes that seemed more prominent than ever, lay on the armchair beside\r
+him; Denisov, whose curly hair, mustache, and whiskers had turned half\r
+gray, sat beside countess Mary with his general's tunic unbuttoned;\r
+Pierre sat between his wife and the old countess. He spoke of what he\r
+knew might interest the old lady and that she could understand. He told\r
+her of external social events and of the people who had formed the\r
+circle of her contemporaries and had once been a real, living, and\r
+distinct group, but who were now for the most part scattered about the\r
+world and like herself were garnering the last ears of the harvests they\r
+had sown in earlier years. But to the old countess those contemporaries\r
+of hers seemed to be the only serious and real society. Natasha saw by\r
+Pierre's animation that his visit had been interesting and that he had\r
+much to tell them but dare not say it before the old countess. Denisov,\r
+not being a member of the family, did not understand Pierre's caution\r
+and being, as a malcontent, much interested in what was occurring in\r
+Petersburg, kept urging Pierre to tell them about what had happened in\r
+the Semenovsk regiment, then about Arakcheev, and then about the Bible\r
+Society. Once or twice Pierre was carried away and began to speak of\r
+these things, but Nicholas and Natasha always brought him back to the\r
+health of Prince Ivan and Countess Mary Alexeevna.\r
+\r
+"Well, and all this idiocy--Gossner and Tatawinova?" Denisov asked. "Is\r
+that weally still going on?"\r
+\r
+\r
+"Going on?" Pierre exclaimed. "Why more than ever! The Bible Society is\r
+the whole government now!"\r
+\r
+"What is that, mon cher ami?" asked the countess, who had finished her\r
+tea and evidently needed a pretext for being angry after her meal. "What\r
+are you saying about the government? I don't understand."\r
+\r
+"Well, you know, Maman," Nicholas interposed, knowing how to translate\r
+things into his mother's language, "Prince Alexander Golitsyn has\r
+founded a society and in consequence has great influence, they say."\r
+\r
+"Arakcheev and Golitsyn," incautiously remarked Pierre, "are now the\r
+whole government! And what a government! They see treason everywhere and\r
+are afraid of everything."\r
+\r
+"Well, and how is Prince Alexander to blame? He is a most estimable man.\r
+I used to meet him at Mary Antonovna's," said the countess in an\r
+offended tone; and still more offended that they all remained silent,\r
+she went on: "Nowadays everyone finds fault. A Gospel Society! Well, and\r
+what harm is there in that?" and she rose (everybody else got up too)\r
+and with a severe expression sailed back to her table in the sitting\r
+room.\r
+\r
+The melancholy silence that followed was broken by the sounds of the\r
+children's voices and laughter from the next room. Evidently some jolly\r
+excitement was going on there.\r
+\r
+"Finished, finished!" little Natasha's gleeful yell rose above them all.\r
+\r
+Pierre exchanged glances with Countess Mary and Nicholas (Natasha he\r
+never lost sight of) and smiled happily.\r
+\r
+"That's delightful music!" said he.\r
+\r
+"It means that Anna Makarovna has finished her stocking," said Countess\r
+Mary.\r
+\r
+"Oh, I'll go and see," said Pierre, jumping up. "You know," he added,\r
+stopping at the door, "why I'm especially fond of that music? It is\r
+always the first thing that tells me all is well. When I was driving\r
+here today, the nearer I got to the house the more anxious I grew. As I\r
+entered the anteroom I heard Andrusha's peals of laughter and that meant\r
+that all was well."\r
+\r
+"I know! I know that feeling," said Nicholas. "But I mustn't go there--\r
+those stockings are to be a surprise for me."\r
+\r
+Pierre went to the children, and the shouting and laughter grew still\r
+louder.\r
+\r
+"Come, Anna Makarovna," Pierre's voice was heard saying, "come here into\r
+the middle of the room and at the word of command, 'One, two,' and when\r
+I say 'three'... You stand here, and you in my arms--well now! One,\r
+two!..." said Pierre, and a silence followed: "three!" and a rapturously\r
+breathless cry of children's voices filled the room. "Two, two!" they\r
+shouted.\r
+\r
+This meant two stockings, which by a secret process known only to\r
+herself Anna Makarovna used to knit at the same time on the same\r
+needles, and which, when they were ready, she always triumphantly drew,\r
+one out of the other, in the children's presence.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XIV\r
+\r
+Soon after this the children came in to say good night. They kissed\r
+everyone, the tutors and governesses made their bows, and they went out.\r
+Only young Nicholas and his tutor remained. Dessalles whispered to the\r
+boy to come downstairs.\r
+\r
+"No, Monsieur Dessalles, I will ask my aunt to let me stay," replied\r
+Nicholas Bolkonski also in a whisper.\r
+\r
+"Ma tante, please let me stay," said he, going up to his aunt.\r
+\r
+His face expressed entreaty, agitation, and ecstasy. Countess Mary\r
+glanced at him and turned to Pierre.\r
+\r
+"When you are here he can't tear himself away," she said.\r
+\r
+"I will bring him to you directly, Monsieur Dessalles. Good night!" said\r
+Pierre, giving his hand to the Swiss tutor, and he turned to young\r
+Nicholas with a smile. "You and I haven't seen anything of one another\r
+yet... How like he is growing, Mary!" he added, addressing Countess\r
+Mary.\r
+\r
+"Like my father?" asked the boy, flushing crimson and looking up at\r
+Pierre with bright, ecstatic eyes.\r
+\r
+Pierre nodded, and went on with what he had been saying when the\r
+children had interrupted. Countess Mary sat down doing woolwork; Natasha\r
+did not take her eyes off her husband. Nicholas and Denisov rose, asked\r
+for their pipes, smoked, went to fetch more tea from Sonya--who sat\r
+weary but resolute at the samovar--and questioned Pierre. The curly-\r
+headed, delicate boy sat with shining eyes unnoticed in a corner,\r
+starting every now and then and muttering something to himself, and\r
+evidently experiencing a new and powerful emotion as he turned his curly\r
+head, with his thin neck exposed by his turn-down collar, toward the\r
+place where Pierre sat.\r
+\r
+The conversation turned on the contemporary gossip about those in power,\r
+in which most people see the chief interest of home politics. Denisov,\r
+dissatisfied with the government on account of his own disappointments\r
+in the service, heard with pleasure of the things done in Petersburg\r
+which seemed to him stupid, and made forcible and sharp comments on what\r
+Pierre told them.\r
+\r
+"One used to have to be a German--now one must dance with Tatawinova and\r
+Madame Kwudener, and wead Ecka'tshausen and the bwethwen. Oh, they\r
+should let that fine fellow Bonaparte loose--he'd knock all this\r
+nonsense out of them! Fancy giving the command of the Semenov wegiment\r
+to a fellow like that Schwa'tz!" he cried.\r
+\r
+Nicholas, though free from Denisov's readiness to find fault with\r
+everything, also thought that discussion of the government was a very\r
+serious and weighty matter, and the fact that A had been appointed\r
+Minister of This and B Governor General of That, and that the Emperor\r
+had said so-and-so and this minister so-and-so, seemed to him very\r
+important. And so he thought it necessary to take an interest in these\r
+things and to question Pierre. The questions put by these two kept the\r
+conversation from changing its ordinary character of gossip about the\r
+higher government circles.\r
+\r
+But Natasha, knowing all her husband's ways and ideas, saw that he had\r
+long been wishing but had been unable to divert the conversation to\r
+another channel and express his own deeply felt idea for the sake of\r
+which he had gone to Petersburg to consult with his new friend Prince\r
+Theodore, and she helped him by asking how his affairs with Prince\r
+Theodore had gone.\r
+\r
+"What was it about?" asked Nicholas.\r
+\r
+"Always the same thing," said Pierre, looking round at his listeners.\r
+"Everybody sees that things are going so badly that they cannot be\r
+allowed to go on so and that it is the duty of all decent men to\r
+counteract it as far as they can."\r
+\r
+"What can decent men do?" Nicholas inquired, frowning slightly. "What\r
+can be done?"\r
+\r
+"Why, this..."\r
+\r
+"Come into my study," said Nicholas.\r
+\r
+Natasha, who had long expected to be fetched to nurse her baby, now\r
+heard the nurse calling her and went to the nursery. Countess Mary\r
+followed her. The men went into the study and little Nicholas Bolkonski\r
+followed them unnoticed by his uncle and sat down at the writing table\r
+in a shady corner by the window.\r
+\r
+"Well, what would you do?" asked Denisov.\r
+\r
+"Always some fantastic schemes," said Nicholas.\r
+\r
+"Why this," began Pierre, not sitting down but pacing the room,\r
+sometimes stopping short, gesticulating, and lisping: "the position in\r
+Petersburg is this: the Emperor does not look into anything. He has\r
+abandoned himself altogether to this mysticism" (Pierre could not\r
+tolerate mysticism in anyone now). "He seeks only for peace, and only\r
+these people sans foi ni loi * can give it him--people who recklessly\r
+hack at and strangle everything--Magnitski, Arakcheev, and tutti\r
+quanti.... You will agree that if you did not look after your estates\r
+yourself but only wanted a quiet life, the harsher your steward was the\r
+more readily your object might be attained," he said to Nicholas.\r
+\r
+\r
+* Without faith or law.\r
+\r
+"Well, what does that lead up to?" said Nicholas.\r
+\r
+"Well, everything is going to ruin! Robbery in the law courts, in the\r
+army nothing but flogging, drilling, and Military Settlements; the\r
+people are tortured, enlightenment is suppressed. All that is young and\r
+honest is crushed! Everyone sees that this cannot go on. Everything is\r
+strained to such a degree that it will certainly break," said Pierre (as\r
+those who examine the actions of any government have always said since\r
+governments began). "I told them just one thing in Petersburg."\r
+\r
+"Told whom?"\r
+\r
+"Well, you know whom," said Pierre, with a meaning glance from under his\r
+brows. "Prince Theodore and all those. To encourage culture and\r
+philanthropy is all very well of course. The aim is excellent but in the\r
+present circumstances something else is needed."\r
+\r
+At that moment Nicholas noticed the presence of his nephew. His face\r
+darkened and he went up to the boy.\r
+\r
+"Why are you here?"\r
+\r
+"Why? Let him be," said Pierre, taking Nicholas by the arm and\r
+continuing. "That is not enough, I told them. Something else is needed.\r
+When you stand expecting the overstrained string to snap at any moment,\r
+when everyone is expecting the inevitable catastrophe, as many as\r
+possible must join hands as closely as they can to withstand the general\r
+calamity. Everything that is young and strong is being enticed away and\r
+depraved. One is lured by women, another by honors, a third by ambition\r
+or money, and they go over to that camp. No independent men, such as you\r
+or I, are left. What I say is widen the scope of our society, let the\r
+mot d'ordre be not virtue alone but independence and action as well!"\r
+\r
+Nicholas, who had left his nephew, irritably pushed up an armchair, sat\r
+down in it, and listened to Pierre, coughing discontentedly and frowning\r
+more and more.\r
+\r
+"But action with what aim?" he cried. "And what position will you adopt\r
+toward the government?"\r
+\r
+"Why, the position of assistants. The society need not be secret if the\r
+government allows it. Not merely is it not hostile to government, but it\r
+is a society of true conservatives--a society of gentlemen in the full\r
+meaning of that word. It is only to prevent some Pugachev or other from\r
+killing my children and yours, and Arakcheev from sending me off to some\r
+Military Settlement. We join hands only for the public welfare and the\r
+general safety."\r
+\r
+"Yes, but it's a secret society and therefore a hostile and harmful one\r
+which can only cause harm."\r
+\r
+"Why? Did the Tugendbund which saved Europe" (they did not then venture\r
+to suggest that Russia had saved Europe) "do any harm? The Tugendbund is\r
+an alliance of virtue: it is love, mutual help... it is what Christ\r
+preached on the Cross."\r
+\r
+Natasha, who had come in during the conversation, looked joyfully at her\r
+husband. It was not what he was saying that pleased her--that did not\r
+even interest her, for it seemed to her that was all extremely simple\r
+and that she had known it a long time (it seemed so to her because she\r
+knew that it sprang from Pierre's whole soul), but it was his animated\r
+and enthusiastic appearance that made her glad.\r
+\r
+The boy with the thin neck stretching out from the turn-down collar--\r
+whom everyone had forgotten--gazed at Pierre with even greater and more\r
+rapturous joy. Every word of Pierre's burned into his heart, and with a\r
+nervous movement of his fingers he unconsciously broke the sealing wax\r
+and quill pens his hands came upon on his uncle's table.\r
+\r
+"It is not at all what you suppose; but that is what the German\r
+Tugendbund was, and what I am proposing."\r
+\r
+"No, my fwiend! The Tugendbund is all vewy well for the sausage eaters,\r
+but I don't understand it and can't even pwonounce it," interposed\r
+Denisov in a loud and resolute voice. "I agwee that evewything here is\r
+wotten and howwible, but the Tugendbund I don't understand. If we're not\r
+satisfied, let us have a bunt of our own. That's all wight. Je suis\r
+vot'e homme!" *\r
+\r
+\r
+* "I'm your man."\r
+\r
+Pierre smiled, Natasha began to laugh, but Nicholas knitted his brows\r
+still more and began proving to Pierre that there was no prospect of any\r
+great change and that all the danger he spoke of existed only in his\r
+imagination. Pierre maintained the contrary, and as his mental faculties\r
+were greater and more resourceful, Nicholas felt himself cornered. This\r
+made him still angrier, for he was fully convinced, not by reasoning but\r
+by something within him stronger than reason, of the justice of his\r
+opinion.\r
+\r
+"I will tell you this," he said, rising and trying with nervously\r
+twitching fingers to prop up his pipe in a corner, but finally\r
+abandoning the attempt. "I can't prove it to you. You say that\r
+everything here is rotten and that an overthrow is coming: I don't see\r
+it. But you also say that our oath of allegiance is a conditional\r
+matter, and to that I reply: 'You are my best friend, as you know, but\r
+if you formed a secret society and began working against the government-\r
+-be it what it may--I know it is my duty to obey the government. And if\r
+Arakcheev ordered me to lead a squadron against you and cut you down, I\r
+should not hesitate an instant, but should do it.' And you may argue\r
+about that as you like!"\r
+\r
+An awkward silence followed these words. Natasha was the first to speak,\r
+defending her husband and attacking her brother. Her defense was weak\r
+and inapt but she attained her object. The conversation was resumed, and\r
+no longer in the unpleasantly hostile tone of Nicholas' last remark.\r
+\r
+When they all got up to go in to supper, little Nicholas Bolkonski went\r
+up to Pierre, pale and with shining, radiant eyes.\r
+\r
+"Uncle Pierre, you... no... If Papa were alive... would he agree with\r
+you?" he asked.\r
+\r
+And Pierre suddenly realized what a special, independent, complex, and\r
+powerful process of thought and feeling must have been going on in this\r
+boy during that conversation, and remembering all he had said he\r
+regretted that the lad should have heard him. He had, however, to give\r
+him an answer.\r
+\r
+"Yes, I think so," he said reluctantly, and left the study.\r
+\r
+The lad looked down and seemed now for the first time to notice what he\r
+had done to the things on the table. He flushed and went up to Nicholas.\r
+\r
+"Uncle, forgive me, I did that... unintentionally," he said, pointing to\r
+the broken sealing wax and pens.\r
+\r
+Nicholas started angrily.\r
+\r
+"All right, all right," he said, throwing the bits under the table.\r
+\r
+And evidently suppressing his vexation with difficulty, he turned away\r
+from the boy.\r
+\r
+"You ought not to have been here at all," he said.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XV\r
+\r
+The conversation at supper was not about politics or societies, but\r
+turned on the subject Nicholas liked best--recollections of 1812.\r
+Denisov started these and Pierre was particularly agreeable and amusing\r
+about them. The family separated on the most friendly terms.\r
+\r
+After supper Nicholas, having undressed in his study and given\r
+instructions to the steward who had been waiting for him, went to the\r
+bedroom in his dressing gown, where he found his wife still at her\r
+table, writing.\r
+\r
+"What are you writing, Mary?" Nicholas asked.\r
+\r
+Countess Mary blushed. She was afraid that what she was writing would\r
+not be understood or approved by her husband.\r
+\r
+She had wanted to conceal what she was writing from him, but at the same\r
+time was glad he had surprised her at it and that she would now have to\r
+tell him.\r
+\r
+"A diary, Nicholas," she replied, handing him a blue exercise book\r
+filled with her firm, bold writing.\r
+\r
+"A diary?" Nicholas repeated with a shade of irony, and he took up the\r
+book.\r
+\r
+It was in French.\r
+\r
+December 4. Today when Andrusha (her eldest boy) woke up he did not wish\r
+to dress and Mademoiselle Louise sent for me. He was naughty and\r
+obstinate. I tried threats, but he only grew angrier. Then I took the\r
+matter in hand: I left him alone and began with nurse's help to get the\r
+other children up, telling him that I did not love him. For a long time\r
+he was silent, as if astonished, then he jumped out of bed, ran to me in\r
+his shirt, and sobbed so that I could not calm him for a long time. It\r
+was plain that what troubled him most was that he had grieved me.\r
+Afterwards in the evening when I gave him his ticket, he again began\r
+crying piteously and kissing me. One can do anything with him by\r
+tenderness.\r
+\r
+"What is a 'ticket'?" Nicholas inquired.\r
+\r
+"I have begun giving the elder ones marks every evening, showing how\r
+they have behaved."\r
+\r
+Nicholas looked into the radiant eyes that were gazing at him, and\r
+continued to turn over the pages and read. In the diary was set down\r
+everything in the children's lives that seemed noteworthy to their\r
+mother as showing their characters or suggesting general reflections on\r
+educational methods. They were for the most part quite insignificant\r
+trifles, but did not seem so to the mother or to the father either, now\r
+that he read this diary about his children for the first time.\r
+\r
+Under the date "5" was entered:\r
+\r
+Mitya was naughty at table. Papa said he was to have no pudding. He had\r
+none, but looked so unhappily and greedily at the others while they were\r
+eating! I think that punishment by depriving children of sweets only\r
+develops their greediness. Must tell Nicholas this.\r
+\r
+Nicholas put down the book and looked at his wife. The radiant eyes\r
+gazed at him questioningly: would he approve or disapprove of her diary?\r
+There could be no doubt not only of his approval but also of his\r
+admiration for his wife.\r
+\r
+Perhaps it need not be done so pedantically, thought Nicholas, or even\r
+done at all, but this untiring, continual spiritual effort of which the\r
+sole aim was the children's moral welfare delighted him. Had Nicholas\r
+been able to analyze his feelings he would have found that his steady,\r
+tender, and proud love of his wife rested on his feeling of wonder at\r
+her spirituality and at the lofty moral world, almost beyond his reach,\r
+in which she had her being.\r
+\r
+He was proud of her intelligence and goodness, recognized his own\r
+insignificance beside her in the spiritual world, and rejoiced all the\r
+more that she with such a soul not only belonged to him but was part of\r
+himself.\r
+\r
+"I quite, quite approve, my dearest!" said he with a significant look,\r
+and after a short pause he added: "And I behaved badly today. You\r
+weren't in the study. We began disputing--Pierre and I--and I lost my\r
+temper. But he is impossible: such a child! I don't know what would\r
+become of him if Natasha didn't keep him in hand.... Have you any idea\r
+why he went to Petersburg? They have formed..."\r
+\r
+"Yes, I know," said Countess Mary. "Natasha told me."\r
+\r
+"Well, then, you know," Nicholas went on, growing hot at the mere\r
+recollection of their discussion, "he wanted to convince me that it is\r
+every honest man's duty to go against the government, and that the oath\r
+of allegiance and duty... I am sorry you weren't there. They all fell on\r
+me--Denisov and Natasha... Natasha is absurd. How she rules over him!\r
+And yet there need only be a discussion and she has no words of her own\r
+but only repeats his sayings..." added Nicholas, yielding to that\r
+irresistible inclination which tempts us to judge those nearest and\r
+dearest to us. He forgot that what he was saying about Natasha could\r
+have been applied word for word to himself in relation to his wife.\r
+\r
+"Yes, I have noticed that," said Countess Mary.\r
+\r
+"When I told him that duty and the oath were above everything, he\r
+started proving goodness knows what! A pity you were not there--what\r
+would you have said?"\r
+\r
+"As I see it you were quite right, and I told Natasha so. Pierre says\r
+everybody is suffering, tortured, and being corrupted, and that it is\r
+our duty to help our neighbor. Of course he is right there," said\r
+Countess Mary, "but he forgets that we have other duties nearer to us,\r
+duties indicated to us by God Himself, and that though we might expose\r
+ourselves to risks we must not risk our children."\r
+\r
+"Yes, that's it! That's just what I said to him," put in Nicholas, who\r
+fancied he really had said it. "But they insisted on their own view:\r
+love of one's neighbor and Christianity--and all this in the presence of\r
+young Nicholas, who had gone into my study and broke all my things."\r
+\r
+"Ah, Nicholas, do you know I am often troubled about little Nicholas,"\r
+said Countess Mary. "He is such an exceptional boy. I am afraid I\r
+neglect him in favor of my own: we all have children and relations while\r
+he has no one. He is constantly alone with his thoughts."\r
+\r
+"Well, I don't think you need reproach yourself on his account. All that\r
+the fondest mother could do for her son you have done and are doing for\r
+him, and of course I am glad of it. He is a fine lad, a fine lad! This\r
+evening he listened to Pierre in a sort of trance, and fancy--as we were\r
+going in to supper I looked and he had broken everything on my table to\r
+bits, and he told me of it himself at once! I never knew him to tell an\r
+untruth. A fine lad, a fine lad!" repeated Nicholas, who at heart was\r
+not fond of Nicholas Bolkonski but was always anxious to recognize that\r
+he was a fine lad.\r
+\r
+"Still, I am not the same as his own mother," said Countess Mary. "I\r
+feel I am not the same and it troubles me. A wonderful boy, but I am\r
+dreadfully afraid for him. It would be good for him to have companions."\r
+\r
+"Well it won't be for long. Next summer I'll take him to Petersburg,"\r
+said Nicholas. "Yes, Pierre always was a dreamer and always will be," he\r
+continued, returning to the talk in the study which had evidently\r
+disturbed him. "Well, what business is it of mine what goes on there--\r
+whether Arakcheev is bad, and all that? What business was it of mine\r
+when I married and was so deep in debt that I was threatened with\r
+prison, and had a mother who could not see or understand it? And then\r
+there are you and the children and our affairs. Is it for my own\r
+pleasure that I am at the farm or in the office from morning to night?\r
+No, but I know I must work to comfort my mother, to repay you, and not\r
+to leave the children such beggars as I was."\r
+\r
+Countess Mary wanted to tell him that man does not live by bread alone\r
+and that he attached too much importance to these matters. But she knew\r
+she must not say this and that it would be useless to do so. She only\r
+took his hand and kissed it. He took this as a sign of approval and a\r
+confirmation of his thoughts, and after a few minutes' reflection\r
+continued to think aloud.\r
+\r
+"You know, Mary, today Elias Mitrofanych" (this was his overseer) "came\r
+back from the Tambov estate and told me they are already offering eighty\r
+thousand rubles for the forest."\r
+\r
+And with an eager face Nicholas began to speak of the possibility of\r
+repurchasing Otradnoe before long, and added: "Another ten years of life\r
+and I shall leave the children... in an excellent position."\r
+\r
+Countess Mary listened to her husband and understood all that he told\r
+her. She knew that when he thought aloud in this way he would sometimes\r
+ask her what he had been saying, and be vexed if he noticed that she had\r
+been thinking about something else. But she had to force herself to\r
+attend, for what he was saying did not interest her at all. She looked\r
+at him and did not think, but felt, about something different. She felt\r
+a submissive tender love for this man who would never understand all\r
+that she understood, and this seemed to make her love for him still\r
+stronger and added a touch of passionate tenderness. Besides this\r
+feeling which absorbed her altogether and hindered her from following\r
+the details of her husband's plans, thoughts that had no connection with\r
+what he was saying flitted through her mind. She thought of her nephew.\r
+Her husband's account of the boy's agitation while Pierre was speaking\r
+struck her forcibly, and various traits of his gentle, sensitive\r
+character recurred to her mind; and while thinking of her nephew she\r
+thought also of her own children. She did not compare them with him, but\r
+compared her feeling for them with her feeling for him, and felt with\r
+regret that there was something lacking in her feeling for young\r
+Nicholas.\r
+\r
+Sometimes it seemed to her that this difference arose from the\r
+difference in their ages, but she felt herself to blame toward him and\r
+promised in her heart to do better and to accomplish the impossible--in\r
+this life to love her husband, her children, little Nicholas, and all\r
+her neighbors, as Christ loved mankind. Countess Mary's soul always\r
+strove toward the infinite, the eternal, and the absolute, and could\r
+therefore never be at peace. A stern expression of the lofty, secret\r
+suffering of a soul burdened by the body appeared on her face. Nicholas\r
+gazed at her. "O God! What will become of us if she dies, as I always\r
+fear when her face is like that?" thought he, and placing himself before\r
+the icon he began to say his evening prayers.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XVI\r
+\r
+Natasha and Pierre, left alone, also began to talk as only a husband and\r
+wife can talk, that is, with extraordinary clearness and rapidity,\r
+understanding and expressing each other's thoughts in ways contrary to\r
+all rules of logic, without premises, deductions, or conclusions, and in\r
+a quite peculiar way. Natasha was so used to this kind of talk with her\r
+husband that for her it was the surest sign of something being wrong\r
+between them if Pierre followed a line of logical reasoning. When he\r
+began proving anything, or talking argumentatively and calmly and she,\r
+led on by his example, began to do the same, she knew that they were on\r
+the verge of a quarrel.\r
+\r
+From the moment they were alone and Natasha came up to him with wide-\r
+open happy eyes, and quickly seizing his head pressed it to her bosom,\r
+saying: "Now you are all mine, mine! You won't escape!"--from that\r
+moment this conversation began, contrary to all the laws of logic and\r
+contrary to them because quite different subjects were talked about at\r
+one and the same time. This simultaneous discussion of many topics did\r
+not prevent a clear understanding but on the contrary was the surest\r
+sign that they fully understood one another.\r
+\r
+Just as in a dream when all is uncertain, unreasoning, and\r
+contradictory, except the feeling that guides the dream, so in this\r
+intercourse contrary to all laws of reason, the words themselves were\r
+not consecutive and clear but only the feeling that prompted them.\r
+\r
+Natasha spoke to Pierre about her brother's life and doings, of how she\r
+had suffered and lacked life during his own absence, and of how she was\r
+fonder than ever of Mary, and how Mary was in every way better than\r
+herself. In saying this Natasha was sincere in acknowledging Mary's\r
+superiority, but at the same time by saying it she made a demand on\r
+Pierre that he should, all the same, prefer her to Mary and to all other\r
+women, and that now, especially after having seen many women in\r
+Petersburg, he should tell her so afresh.\r
+\r
+Pierre, answering Natasha's words, told her how intolerable it had been\r
+for him to meet ladies at dinners and balls in Petersburg.\r
+\r
+"I have quite lost the knack of talking to ladies," he said. "It was\r
+simply dull. Besides, I was very busy."\r
+\r
+Natasha looked intently at him and went on:\r
+\r
+"Mary is so splendid," she said. "How she understands children! It is as\r
+if she saw straight into their souls. Yesterday, for instance, Mitya was\r
+naughty..."\r
+\r
+"How like his father he is," Pierre interjected.\r
+\r
+Natasha knew why he mentioned Mitya's likeness to Nicholas: the\r
+recollection of his dispute with his brother-in-law was unpleasant and\r
+he wanted to know what Natasha thought of it.\r
+\r
+"Nicholas has the weakness of never agreeing with anything not generally\r
+accepted. But I understand that you value what opens up a fresh line,"\r
+said she, repeating words Pierre had once uttered.\r
+\r
+"No, the chief point is that to Nicholas ideas and discussions are an\r
+amusement--almost a pastime," said Pierre. "For instance, he is\r
+collecting a library and has made it a rule not to buy a new book till\r
+he has read what he had already bought--Sismondi and Rousseau and\r
+Montesquieu," he added with a smile. "You know how much I..." he began\r
+to soften down what he had said; but Natasha interrupted him to show\r
+that this was unnecessary.\r
+\r
+"So you say ideas are an amusement to him...."\r
+\r
+"Yes, and for me nothing else is serious. All the time in Petersburg I\r
+saw everyone as in a dream. When I am taken up by a thought, all else is\r
+mere amusement."\r
+\r
+"Ah, I'm so sorry I wasn't there when you met the children," said\r
+Natasha. "Which was most delighted? Lisa, I'm sure."\r
+\r
+"Yes," Pierre replied, and went on with what was in his mind. "Nicholas\r
+says we ought not to think. But I can't help it. Besides, when I was in\r
+Petersburg I felt (I can say this to you) that the whole affair would go\r
+to pieces without me--everyone was pulling his own way. But I succeeded\r
+in uniting them all; and then my idea is so clear and simple. You see, I\r
+don't say that we ought to oppose this and that. We may be mistaken.\r
+What I say is: 'Join hands, you who love the right, and let there be but\r
+one banner--that of active virtue.' Prince Sergey is a fine fellow and\r
+clever."\r
+\r
+Natasha would have had no doubt as to the greatness of Pierre's idea,\r
+but one thing disconcerted her. "Can a man so important and necessary to\r
+society be also my husband? How did this happen?" She wished to express\r
+this doubt to him. "Now who could decide whether he is really cleverer\r
+than all the others?" she asked herself, and passed in review all those\r
+whom Pierre most respected. Judging by what he had said there was no one\r
+he had respected so highly as Platon Karataev.\r
+\r
+"Do you know what I am thinking about?" she asked. "About Platon\r
+Karataev. Would he have approved of you now, do you think?"\r
+\r
+Pierre was not at all surprised at this question. He understood his\r
+wife's line of thought.\r
+\r
+"Platon Karataev?" he repeated, and pondered, evidently sincerely trying\r
+to imagine Karataev's opinion on the subject. "He would not have\r
+understood... yet perhaps he would."\r
+\r
+"I love you awfully!" Natasha suddenly said. "Awfully, awfully!"\r
+\r
+"No, he would not have approved," said Pierre, after reflection. "What\r
+he would have approved of is our family life. He was always so anxious\r
+to find seemliness, happiness, and peace in everything, and I should\r
+have been proud to let him see us. There now--you talk of my absence,\r
+but you wouldn't believe what a special feeling I have for you after a\r
+separation...."\r
+\r
+"Yes, I should think..." Natasha began.\r
+\r
+"No, it's not that. I never leave off loving you. And one couldn't love\r
+more, but this is something special.... Yes, of course-" he did not\r
+finish because their eyes meeting said the rest.\r
+\r
+"What nonsense it is," Natasha suddenly exclaimed, "about honeymoons,\r
+and that the greatest happiness is at first! On the contrary, now is the\r
+best of all. If only you did not go away! Do you remember how we\r
+quarreled? And it was always my fault. Always mine. And what we\r
+quarreled about--I don't even remember!"\r
+\r
+"Always about the same thing," said Pierre with a smile. "Jealo..."\r
+\r
+"Don't say it! I can't bear it!" Natasha cried, and her eyes glittered\r
+coldly and vindictively. "Did you see her?" she added, after a pause.\r
+\r
+"No, and if I had I shouldn't have recognized her."\r
+\r
+They were silent for a while.\r
+\r
+"Oh, do you know? While you were talking in the study I was looking at\r
+you," Natasha began, evidently anxious to disperse the cloud that had\r
+come over them. "You are as like him as two peas--like the boy." (She\r
+meant her little son.) "Oh, it's time to go to him.... The milk's\r
+come.... But I'm sorry to leave you."\r
+\r
+They were silent for a few seconds. Then suddenly turning to one another\r
+at the same time they both began to speak. Pierre began with self-\r
+satisfaction and enthusiasm, Natasha with a quiet, happy smile. Having\r
+interrupted one another they both stopped to let the other continue.\r
+\r
+"No. What did you say? Go on, go on."\r
+\r
+"No, you go on, I was talking nonsense," said Natasha.\r
+\r
+Pierre finished what he had begun. It was the sequel to his complacent\r
+reflections on his success in Petersburg. At that moment it seemed to\r
+him that he was chosen to give a new direction to the whole of Russian\r
+society and to the whole world.\r
+\r
+"I only wished to say that ideas that have great results are always\r
+simple ones. My whole idea is that if vicious people are united and\r
+constitute a power, then honest folk must do the same. Now that's simple\r
+enough."\r
+\r
+"Yes."\r
+\r
+"And what were you going to say?"\r
+\r
+"I? Only nonsense."\r
+\r
+"But all the same?"\r
+\r
+"Oh nothing, only a trifle," said Natasha, smilingly still more\r
+brightly. "I only wanted to tell you about Petya: today nurse was coming\r
+to take him from me, and he laughed, shut his eyes, and clung to me. I'm\r
+sure he thought he was hiding. Awfully sweet! There, now he's crying.\r
+Well, good-by!" and she left the room.\r
+\r
+Meanwhile downstairs in young Nicholas Bolkonski's bedroom a little lamp\r
+was burning as usual. (The boy was afraid of the dark and they could not\r
+cure him of it.) Dessalles slept propped up on four pillows and his\r
+Roman nose emitted sounds of rhythmic snoring. Little Nicholas, who had\r
+just waked up in a cold perspiration, sat up in bed and gazed before him\r
+with wide-open eyes. He had awaked from a terrible dream. He had dreamed\r
+that he and Uncle Pierre, wearing helmets such as were depicted in his\r
+Plutarch, were leading a huge army. The army was made up of white\r
+slanting lines that filled the air like the cobwebs that float about in\r
+autumn and which Dessalles called les fils de la Vierge. In front was\r
+Glory, which was similar to those threads but rather thicker. He and\r
+Pierre were borne along lightly and joyously, nearer and nearer to their\r
+goal. Suddenly the threads that moved them began to slacken and become\r
+entangled and it grew difficult to move. And Uncle Nicholas stood before\r
+them in a stern and threatening attitude.\r
+\r
+"Have you done this?" he said, pointing to some broken sealing wax and\r
+pens. "I loved you, but I have orders from Arakcheev and will kill the\r
+first of you who moves forward." Little Nicholas turned to look at\r
+Pierre but Pierre was no longer there. In his place was his father--\r
+Prince Andrew--and his father had neither shape nor form, but he\r
+existed, and when little Nicholas perceived him he grew faint with love:\r
+he felt himself powerless, limp, and formless. His father caressed and\r
+pitied him. But Uncle Nicholas came nearer and nearer to them. Terror\r
+seized young Nicholas and he awoke.\r
+\r
+"My father!" he thought. (Though there were two good portraits of Prince\r
+Andrew in the house, Nicholas never imagined him in human form.) "My\r
+father has been with me and caressed me. He approved of me and of Uncle\r
+Pierre. Whatever he may tell me, I will do it. Mucius Scaevola burned\r
+his hand. Why should not the same sort of thing happen to me? I know\r
+they want me to learn. And I will learn. But someday I shall have\r
+finished learning, and then I will do something. I only pray God that\r
+something may happen to me such as happened to Plutarch's men, and I\r
+will act as they did. I will do better. Everyone shall know me, love me,\r
+and be delighted with me!" And suddenly his bosom heaved with sobs and\r
+he began to cry.\r
+\r
+"Are you ill?" he heard Dessalles' voice asking.\r
+\r
+"No," answered Nicholas, and lay back on his pillow.\r
+\r
+"He is good and kind and I am fond of him!" he thought of Dessalles.\r
+"But Uncle Pierre! Oh, what a wonderful man he is! And my father? Oh,\r
+Father, Father! Yes, I will do something with which even he would be\r
+satisfied...."\r
+\r
+SECOND EPILOGUE\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER I\r
+\r
+History is the life of nations and of humanity. To seize and put into\r
+words, to describe directly the life of humanity or even of a single\r
+nation, appears impossible.\r
+\r
+The ancient historians all employed one and the same method to describe\r
+and seize the apparently elusive--the life of a people. They described\r
+the activity of individuals who ruled the people, and regarded the\r
+activity of those men as representing the activity of the whole nation.\r
+\r
+The question: how did individuals make nations act as they wished and by\r
+what was the will of these individuals themselves guided? the ancients\r
+met by recognizing a divinity which subjected the nations to the will of\r
+a chosen man, and guided the will of that chosen man so as to accomplish\r
+ends that were predestined.\r
+\r
+For the ancients these questions were solved by a belief in the direct\r
+participation of the Deity in human affairs.\r
+\r
+Modern history, in theory, rejects both these principles.\r
+\r
+It would seem that having rejected the belief of the ancients in man's\r
+subjection to the Deity and in a predetermined aim toward which nations\r
+are led, modern history should study not the manifestations of power but\r
+the causes that produce it. But modern history has not done this. Having\r
+in theory rejected the view held by the ancients, it still follows them\r
+in practice.\r
+\r
+Instead of men endowed with divine authority and directly guided by the\r
+will of God, modern history has given us either heroes endowed with\r
+extraordinary, superhuman capacities, or simply men of very various\r
+kinds, from monarchs to journalists, who lead the masses. Instead of the\r
+former divinely appointed aims of the Jewish, Greek, or Roman nations,\r
+which ancient historians regarded as representing the progress of\r
+humanity, modern history has postulated its own aims--the welfare of the\r
+French, German, or English people, or, in its highest abstraction, the\r
+welfare and civilization of humanity in general, by which is usually\r
+meant that of the peoples occupying a small northwesterly portion of a\r
+large continent.\r
+\r
+Modern history has rejected the beliefs of the ancients without\r
+replacing them by a new conception, and the logic of the situation has\r
+obliged the historians, after they had apparently rejected the divine\r
+authority of the kings and the "fate" of the ancients, to reach the same\r
+conclusion by another road, that is, to recognize (1) nations guided by\r
+individual men, and (2) the existence of a known aim to which these\r
+nations and humanity at large are tending.\r
+\r
+At the basis of the works of all the modern historians from Gibbon to\r
+Buckle, despite their seeming disagreements and the apparent novelty of\r
+their outlooks, lie those two old, unavoidable assumptions.\r
+\r
+In the first place the historian describes the activity of individuals\r
+who in his opinion have directed humanity (one historian considers only\r
+monarchs, generals, and ministers as being such men, while another\r
+includes also orators, learned men, reformers, philosophers, and poets).\r
+Secondly, it is assumed that the goal toward which humanity is being led\r
+is known to the historians: to one of them this goal is the greatness of\r
+the Roman, Spanish, or French realm; to another it is liberty, equality,\r
+and a certain kind of civilization of a small corner of the world called\r
+Europe.\r
+\r
+In 1789 a ferment arises in Paris; it grows, spreads, and is expressed\r
+by a movement of peoples from west to east. Several times it moves\r
+eastward and collides with a countermovement from the east westward. In\r
+1812 it reaches its extreme limit, Moscow, and then, with remarkable\r
+symmetry, a countermovement occurs from east to west, attracting to it,\r
+as the first movement had done, the nations of middle Europe. The\r
+counter movement reaches the starting point of the first movement in the\r
+west--Paris--and subsides.\r
+\r
+During that twenty-year period an immense number of fields were left\r
+untilled, houses were burned, trade changed its direction, millions of\r
+men migrated, were impoverished, or were enriched, and millions of\r
+Christian men professing the law of love of their fellows slew one\r
+another.\r
+\r
+What does all this mean? Why did it happen? What made those people burn\r
+houses and slay their fellow men? What were the causes of these events?\r
+What force made men act so? These are the instinctive, plain, and most\r
+legitimate questions humanity asks itself when it encounters the\r
+monuments and tradition of that period.\r
+\r
+For a reply to these questions the common sense of mankind turns to the\r
+science of history, whose aim is to enable nations and humanity to know\r
+themselves.\r
+\r
+If history had retained the conception of the ancients it would have\r
+said that God, to reward or punish his people, gave Napoleon power and\r
+directed his will to the fulfillment of the divine ends, and that reply\r
+would have been clear and complete. One might believe or disbelieve in\r
+the divine significance of Napoleon, but for anyone believing in it\r
+there would have been nothing unintelligible in the history of that\r
+period, nor would there have been any contradictions.\r
+\r
+But modern history cannot give that reply. Science does not admit the\r
+conception of the ancients as to the direct participation of the Deity\r
+in human affairs, and therefore history ought to give other answers.\r
+\r
+Modern history replying to these questions says: you want to know what\r
+this movement means, what caused it, and what force produced these\r
+events? Then listen:\r
+\r
+"Louis XIV was a very proud and self-confident man; he had such and such\r
+mistresses and such and such ministers and he ruled France badly. His\r
+descendants were weak men and they too ruled France badly. And they had\r
+such and such favorites and such and such mistresses. Moreover, certain\r
+men wrote some books at that time. At the end of the eighteenth century\r
+there were a couple of dozen men in Paris who began to talk about all\r
+men being free and equal. This caused people all over France to begin to\r
+slash at and drown one another. They killed the king and many other\r
+people. At that time there was in France a man of genius--Napoleon. He\r
+conquered everybody everywhere--that is, he killed many people because\r
+he was a great genius. And for some reason he went to kill Africans, and\r
+killed them so well and was so cunning and wise that when he returned to\r
+France he ordered everybody to obey him, and they all obeyed him. Having\r
+become an Emperor he again went out to kill people in Italy, Austria,\r
+and Prussia. And there too he killed a great many. In Russia there was\r
+an Emperor, Alexander, who decided to restore order in Europe and\r
+therefore fought against Napoleon. In 1807 he suddenly made friends with\r
+him, but in 1811 they again quarreled and again began killing many\r
+people. Napoleon led six hundred thousand men into Russia and captured\r
+Moscow; then he suddenly ran away from Moscow, and the Emperor\r
+Alexander, helped by the advice of Stein and others, united Europe to\r
+arm against the disturber of its peace. All Napoleon's allies suddenly\r
+became his enemies and their forces advanced against the fresh forces he\r
+raised. The Allies defeated Napoleon, entered Paris, forced Napoleon to\r
+abdicate, and sent him to the island of Elba, not depriving him of the\r
+title of Emperor and showing him every respect, though five years before\r
+and one year later they all regarded him as an outlaw and a brigand.\r
+Then Louis XVIII, who till then had been the laughingstock both of the\r
+French and the Allies, began to reign. And Napoleon, shedding tears\r
+before his Old Guards, renounced the throne and went into exile. Then\r
+the skillful statesmen and diplomatists (especially Talleyrand, who\r
+managed to sit down in a particular chair before anyone else and thereby\r
+extended the frontiers of France) talked in Vienna and by these\r
+conversations made the nations happy or unhappy. Suddenly the\r
+diplomatists and monarchs nearly quarreled and were on the point of\r
+again ordering their armies to kill one another, but just then Napoleon\r
+arrived in France with a battalion, and the French, who had been hating\r
+him, immediately all submitted to him. But the Allied monarchs were\r
+angry at this and went to fight the French once more. And they defeated\r
+the genius Napoleon and, suddenly recognizing him as a brigand, sent him\r
+to the island of St. Helena. And the exile, separated from the beloved\r
+France so dear to his heart, died a lingering death on that rock and\r
+bequeathed his great deeds to posterity. But in Europe a reaction\r
+occurred and the sovereigns once again all began to oppress their\r
+subjects."\r
+\r
+It would be a mistake to think that this is ironic--a caricature of the\r
+historical accounts. On the contrary it is a very mild expression of the\r
+contradictory replies, not meeting the questions, which all the\r
+historians give, from the compilers of memoirs and the histories of\r
+separate states to the writers of general histories and the new\r
+histories of the culture of that period.\r
+\r
+The strangeness and absurdity of these replies arise from the fact that\r
+modern history, like a deaf man, answers questions no one has asked.\r
+\r
+If the purpose of history be to give a description of the movement of\r
+humanity and of the peoples, the first question--in the absence of a\r
+reply to which all the rest will be incomprehensible--is: what is the\r
+power that moves peoples? To this, modern history laboriously replies\r
+either that Napoleon was a great genius, or that Louis XIV was very\r
+proud, or that certain writers wrote certain books.\r
+\r
+All that may be so and mankind is ready to agree with it, but it is not\r
+what was asked. All that would be interesting if we recognized a divine\r
+power based on itself and always consistently directing its nations\r
+through Napoleons, Louis-es, and writers; but we do not acknowledge such\r
+a power, and therefore before speaking about Napoleons, Louis-es, and\r
+authors, we ought to be shown the connection existing between these men\r
+and the movement of the nations.\r
+\r
+If instead of a divine power some other force has appeared, it should be\r
+explained in what this new force consists, for the whole interest of\r
+history lies precisely in that force.\r
+\r
+History seems to assume that this force is self-evident and known to\r
+everyone. But in spite of every desire to regard it as known, anyone\r
+reading many historical works cannot help doubting whether this new\r
+force, so variously understood by the historians themselves, is really\r
+quite well known to everybody.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER II\r
+\r
+What force moves the nations?\r
+\r
+Biographical historians and historians of separate nations understand\r
+this force as a power inherent in heroes and rulers. In their narration\r
+events occur solely by the will of a Napoleon, and Alexander, or in\r
+general of the persons they describe. The answers given by this kind of\r
+historian to the question of what force causes events to happen are\r
+satisfactory only as long as there is but one historian to each event.\r
+As soon as historians of different nationalities and tendencies begin to\r
+describe the same event, the replies they give immediately lose all\r
+meaning, for this force is understood by them all not only differently\r
+but often in quite contradictory ways. One historian says that an event\r
+was produced by Napoleon's power, another that it was produced by\r
+Alexander's, a third that it was due to the power of some other person.\r
+Besides this, historians of that kind contradict each other even in\r
+their statement as to the force on which the authority of some\r
+particular person was based. Thiers, a Bonapartist, says that Napoleon's\r
+power was based on his virtue and genius. Lanfrey, a Republican, says it\r
+was based on his trickery and deception of the people. So the historians\r
+of this class, by mutually destroying one another's positions, destroy\r
+the understanding of the force which produces events, and furnish no\r
+reply to history's essential question.\r
+\r
+Writers of universal history who deal with all the nations seem to\r
+recognize how erroneous is the specialist historians' view of the force\r
+which produces events. They do not recognize it as a power inherent in\r
+heroes and rulers, but as the resultant of a multiplicity of variously\r
+directed forces. In describing a war or the subjugation of a people, a\r
+general historian looks for the cause of the event not in the power of\r
+one man, but in the interaction of many persons connected with the\r
+event.\r
+\r
+According to this view the power of historical personages, represented\r
+as the product of many forces, can no longer, it would seem, be regarded\r
+as a force that itself produces events. Yet in most cases universal\r
+historians still employ the conception of power as a force that itself\r
+produces events, and treat it as their cause. In their exposition, an\r
+historic character is first the product of his time, and his power only\r
+the resultant of various forces, and then his power is itself a force\r
+producing events. Gervinus, Schlosser, and others, for instance, at one\r
+time prove Napoleon to be a product of the Revolution, of the ideas of\r
+1789 and so forth, and at another plainly say that the campaign of 1812\r
+and other things they do not like were simply the product of Napoleon's\r
+misdirected will, and that the very ideas of 1789 were arrested in their\r
+development by Napoleon's caprice. The ideas of the Revolution and the\r
+general temper of the age produced Napoleon's power. But Napoleon's\r
+power suppressed the ideas of the Revolution and the general temper of\r
+the age.\r
+\r
+This curious contradiction is not accidental. Not only does it occur at\r
+every step, but the universal historians' accounts are all made up of a\r
+chain of such contradictions. This contradiction occurs because after\r
+entering the field of analysis the universal historians stop halfway.\r
+\r
+To find component forces equal to the composite or resultant force, the\r
+sum of the components must equal the resultant. This condition is never\r
+observed by the universal historians, and so to explain the resultant\r
+forces they are obliged to admit, in addition to the insufficient\r
+components, another unexplained force affecting the resultant action.\r
+\r
+Specialist historians describing the campaign of 1813 or the restoration\r
+of the Bourbons plainly assert that these events were produced by the\r
+will of Alexander. But the universal historian Gervinus, refuting this\r
+opinion of the specialist historian, tries to prove that the campaign of\r
+1813 and the restoration of the Bourbons were due to other things beside\r
+Alexander's will--such as the activity of Stein, Metternich, Madame de\r
+Stael, Talleyrand, Fichte, Chateaubriand, and others. The historian\r
+evidently decomposes Alexander's power into the components: Talleyrand,\r
+Chateaubriand, and the rest--but the sum of the components, that is, the\r
+interactions of Chateaubriand, Talleyrand, Madame de Stael, and the\r
+others, evidently does not equal the resultant, namely the phenomenon of\r
+millions of Frenchmen submitting to the Bourbons. That Chateaubriand,\r
+Madame de Stael, and others spoke certain words to one another only\r
+affected their mutual relations but does not account for the submission\r
+of millions. And therefore to explain how from these relations of theirs\r
+the submission of millions of people resulted--that is, how component\r
+forces equal to one A gave a resultant equal to a thousand times A--the\r
+historian is again obliged to fall back on power--the force he had\r
+denied--and to recognize it as the resultant of the forces, that is, he\r
+has to admit an unexplained force acting on the resultant. And that is\r
+just what the universal historians do, and consequently they not only\r
+contradict the specialist historians but contradict themselves.\r
+\r
+Peasants having no clear idea of the cause of rain, say, according to\r
+whether they want rain or fine weather: "The wind has blown the clouds\r
+away," or, "The wind has brought up the clouds." And in the same way the\r
+universal historians sometimes, when it pleases them and fits in with\r
+their theory, say that power is the result of events, and sometimes,\r
+when they want to prove something else, say that power produces events.\r
+\r
+A third class of historians--the so-called historians of culture--\r
+following the path laid down by the universal historians who sometimes\r
+accept writers and ladies as forces producing events--again take that\r
+force to be something quite different. They see it in what is called\r
+culture--in mental activity.\r
+\r
+The historians of culture are quite consistent in regard to their\r
+progenitors, the writers of universal histories, for if historical\r
+events may be explained by the fact that certain persons treated one\r
+another in such and such ways, why not explain them by the fact that\r
+such and such people wrote such and such books? Of the immense number of\r
+indications accompanying every vital phenomenon, these historians select\r
+the indication of intellectual activity and say that this indication is\r
+the cause. But despite their endeavors to prove that the cause of events\r
+lies in intellectual activity, only by a great stretch can one admit\r
+that there is any connection between intellectual activity and the\r
+movement of peoples, and in no case can one admit that intellectual\r
+activity controls people's actions, for that view is not confirmed by\r
+such facts as the very cruel murders of the French Revolution resulting\r
+from the doctrine of the equality of man, or the very cruel wars and\r
+executions resulting from the preaching of love.\r
+\r
+But even admitting as correct all the cunningly devised arguments with\r
+which these histories are filled--admitting that nations are governed by\r
+some undefined force called an idea--history's essential question still\r
+remains unanswered, and to the former power of monarchs and to the\r
+influence of advisers and other people introduced by the universal\r
+historians, another, newer force--the idea--is added, the connection of\r
+which with the masses needs explanation. It is possible to understand\r
+that Napoleon had power and so events occurred; with some effort one may\r
+even conceive that Napoleon together with other influences was the cause\r
+of an event; but how a book, Le Contrat Social, had the effect of making\r
+Frenchmen begin to drown one another cannot be understood without an\r
+explanation of the causal nexus of this new force with the event.\r
+\r
+Undoubtedly some relation exists between all who live contemporaneously,\r
+and so it is possible to find some connection between the intellectual\r
+activity of men and their historical movements, just as such a\r
+connection may be found between the movements of humanity and commerce,\r
+handicraft, gardening, or anything else you please. But why intellectual\r
+activity is considered by the historians of culture to be the cause or\r
+expression of the whole historical movement is hard to understand. Only\r
+the following considerations can have led the historians to such a\r
+conclusion: (1) that history is written by learned men, and so it is\r
+natural and agreeable for them to think that the activity of their class\r
+supplies the basis of the movement of all humanity, just as a similar\r
+belief is natural and agreeable to traders, agriculturists, and soldiers\r
+(if they do not express it, that is merely because traders and soldiers\r
+do not write history), and (2) that spiritual activity, enlightenment,\r
+civilization, culture, ideas, are all indistinct, indefinite conceptions\r
+under whose banner it is very easy to use words having a still less\r
+definite meaning, and which can therefore be readily introduced into any\r
+theory.\r
+\r
+But not to speak of the intrinsic quality of histories of this kind\r
+(which may possibly even be of use to someone for something) the\r
+histories of culture, to which all general histories tend more and more\r
+to approximate, are significant from the fact that after seriously and\r
+minutely examining various religious, philosophic, and political\r
+doctrines as causes of events, as soon as they have to describe an\r
+actual historic event such as the campaign of 1812 for instance, they\r
+involuntarily describe it as resulting from an exercise of power--and\r
+say plainly that that was the result of Napoleon's will. Speaking so,\r
+the historians of culture involuntarily contradict themselves, and show\r
+that the new force they have devised does not account for what happens\r
+in history, and that history can only be explained by introducing a\r
+power which they apparently do not recognize.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER III\r
+\r
+A locomotive is moving. Someone asks: "What moves it?" A peasant says\r
+the devil moves it. Another man says the locomotive moves because its\r
+wheels go round. A third asserts that the cause of its movement lies in\r
+the smoke which the wind carries away.\r
+\r
+The peasant is irrefutable. He has devised a complete explanation. To\r
+refute him someone would have to prove to him that there is no devil, or\r
+another peasant would have to explain to him that it is not the devil\r
+but a German, who moves the locomotive. Only then, as a result of the\r
+contradiction, will they see that they are both wrong. But the man who\r
+says that the movement of the wheels is the cause refutes himself, for\r
+having once begun to analyze he ought to go on and explain further why\r
+the wheels go round; and till he has reached the ultimate cause of the\r
+movement of the locomotive in the pressure of steam in the boiler, he\r
+has no right to stop in his search for the cause. The man who explains\r
+the movement of the locomotive by the smoke that is carried back has\r
+noticed that the wheels do not supply an explanation and has taken the\r
+first sign that occurs to him and in his turn has offered that as an\r
+explanation.\r
+\r
+The only conception that can explain the movement of the locomotive is\r
+that of a force commensurate with the movement observed.\r
+\r
+The only conception that can explain the movement of the peoples is that\r
+of some force commensurate with the whole movement of the peoples.\r
+\r
+Yet to supply this conception various historians take forces of\r
+different kinds, all of which are incommensurate with the movement\r
+observed. Some see it as a force directly inherent in heroes, as the\r
+peasant sees the devil in the locomotive; others as a force resulting\r
+from several other forces, like the movement of the wheels; others again\r
+as an intellectual influence, like the smoke that is blown away.\r
+\r
+So long as histories are written of separate individuals, whether\r
+Caesars, Alexanders, Luthers, or Voltaires, and not the histories of\r
+all, absolutely all those who take part in an event, it is quite\r
+impossible to describe the movement of humanity without the conception\r
+of a force compelling men to direct their activity toward a certain end.\r
+And the only such conception known to historians is that of power.\r
+\r
+This conception is the one handle by means of which the material of\r
+history, as at present expounded, can be dealt with, and anyone who\r
+breaks that handle off, as Buckle did, without finding some other method\r
+of treating historical material, merely deprives himself of the one\r
+possible way of dealing with it. The necessity of the conception of\r
+power as an explanation of historical events is best demonstrated by the\r
+universal historians and historians of culture themselves, for they\r
+professedly reject that conception but inevitably have recourse to it at\r
+every step.\r
+\r
+In dealing with humanity's inquiry, the science of history up to now is\r
+like money in circulation--paper money and coin. The biographies and\r
+special national histories are like paper money. They can be used and\r
+can circulate and fulfill their purpose without harm to anyone and even\r
+advantageously, as long as no one asks what is the security behind them.\r
+You need only forget to ask how the will of heroes produces events, and\r
+such histories as Thiers' will be interesting and instructive and may\r
+perhaps even possess a tinge of poetry. But just as doubts of the real\r
+value of paper money arise either because, being easy to make, too much\r
+of it gets made or because people try to exchange it for gold, so also\r
+doubts concerning the real value of such histories arise either because\r
+too many of them are written or because in his simplicity of heart\r
+someone inquires: by what force did Napoleon do this?--that is, wants to\r
+exchange the current paper money for the real gold of actual\r
+comprehension.\r
+\r
+The writers of universal histories and of the history of culture are\r
+like people who, recognizing the defects of paper money, decide to\r
+substitute for it money made of metal that has not the specific gravity\r
+of gold. It may indeed make jingling coin, but will do no more than\r
+that. Paper money may deceive the ignorant, but nobody is deceived by\r
+tokens of base metal that have no value but merely jingle. As gold is\r
+gold only if it is serviceable not merely for exchange but also for use,\r
+so universal historians will be valuable only when they can reply to\r
+history's essential question: what is power? The universal historians\r
+give contradictory replies to that question, while the historians of\r
+culture evade it and answer something quite different. And as counters\r
+of imitation gold can be used only among a group of people who agree to\r
+accept them as gold, or among those who do not know the nature of gold,\r
+so universal historians and historians of culture, not answering\r
+humanity's essential question, serve as currency for some purposes of\r
+their own, only in universities and among the mass of readers who have a\r
+taste for what they call "serious reading."\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IV\r
+\r
+Having abandoned the conception of the ancients as to the divine\r
+subjection of the will of a nation to some chosen man and the subjection\r
+of that man's will to the Deity, history cannot without contradictions\r
+take a single step till it has chosen one of two things: either a return\r
+to the former belief in the direct intervention of the Deity in human\r
+affairs or a definite explanation of the meaning of the force producing\r
+historical events and termed "power."\r
+\r
+A return to the first is impossible, the belief has been destroyed; and\r
+so it is essential to explain what is meant by power.\r
+\r
+Napoleon ordered an army to be raised and go to war. We are so\r
+accustomed to that idea and have become so used to it that the question:\r
+why did six hundred thousand men go to fight when Napoleon uttered\r
+certain words, seems to us senseless. He had the power and so what he\r
+ordered was done.\r
+\r
+This reply is quite satisfactory if we believe that the power was given\r
+him by God. But as soon as we do not admit that, it becomes essential to\r
+determine what is this power of one man over others.\r
+\r
+It cannot be the direct physical power of a strong man over a weak one--\r
+a domination based on the application or threat of physical force, like\r
+the power of Hercules; nor can it be based on the effect of moral force,\r
+as in their simplicity some historians think who say that the leading\r
+figures in history are heroes, that is, men gifted with a special\r
+strength of soul and mind called genius. This power cannot be based on\r
+the predominance of moral strength, for, not to mention heroes such as\r
+Napoleon about whose moral qualities opinions differ widely, history\r
+shows us that neither a Louis XI nor a Metternich, who ruled over\r
+millions of people, had any particular moral qualities, but on the\r
+contrary were generally morally weaker than any of the millions they\r
+ruled over.\r
+\r
+If the source of power lies neither in the physical nor in the moral\r
+qualities of him who possesses it, it must evidently be looked for\r
+elsewhere--in the relation to the people of the man who wields the\r
+power.\r
+\r
+And that is how power is understood by the science of jurisprudence,\r
+that exchange bank of history which offers to exchange history's\r
+understanding of power for true gold.\r
+\r
+Power is the collective will of the people transferred, by expressed or\r
+tacit consent, to their chosen rulers.\r
+\r
+In the domain of jurisprudence, which consists of discussions of how a\r
+state and power might be arranged were it possible for all that to be\r
+arranged, it is all very clear; but when applied to history that\r
+definition of power needs explanation.\r
+\r
+The science of jurisprudence regards the state and power as the ancients\r
+regarded fire--namely, as something existing absolutely. But for\r
+history, the state and power are merely phenomena, just as for modern\r
+physics fire is not an element but a phenomenon.\r
+\r
+From this fundamental difference between the view held by history and\r
+that held by jurisprudence, it follows that jurisprudence can tell\r
+minutely how in its opinion power should be constituted and what power--\r
+existing immutably outside time--is, but to history's questions about\r
+the meaning of the mutations of power in time it can answer nothing.\r
+\r
+If power be the collective will of the people transferred to their\r
+ruler, was Pugachev a representative of the will of the people? If not,\r
+then why was Napoleon I? Why was Napoleon III a criminal when he was\r
+taken prisoner at Boulogne, and why, later on, were those criminals whom\r
+he arrested?\r
+\r
+Do palace revolutions--in which sometimes only two or three people take\r
+part--transfer the will of the people to a new ruler? In international\r
+relations, is the will of the people also transferred to their\r
+conqueror? Was the will of the Confederation of the Rhine transferred to\r
+Napoleon in 1806? Was the will of the Russian people transferred to\r
+Napoleon in 1809, when our army in alliance with the French went to\r
+fight the Austrians?\r
+\r
+To these questions three answers are possible:\r
+\r
+Either to assume (1) that the will of the people is always\r
+unconditionally transferred to the ruler or rulers they have chosen, and\r
+that therefore every emergence of a new power, every struggle against\r
+the power once appointed, should be absolutely regarded as an\r
+infringement of the real power; or (2) that the will of the people is\r
+transferred to the rulers conditionally, under definite and known\r
+conditions, and to show that all limitations, conflicts, and even\r
+destructions of power result from a nonobservance by the rulers of the\r
+conditions under which their power was entrusted to them; or (3) that\r
+the will of the people is delegated to the rulers conditionally, but\r
+that the conditions are unknown and indefinite, and that the appearance\r
+of several authorities, their struggles and their falls, result solely\r
+from the greater or lesser fulfillment by the rulers of these unknown\r
+conditions on which the will of the people is transferred from some\r
+people to others.\r
+\r
+And these are the three ways in which the historians do explain the\r
+relation of the people to their rulers.\r
+\r
+Some historians--those biographical and specialist historians already\r
+referred to--in their simplicity failing to understand the question of\r
+the meaning of power, seem to consider that the collective will of the\r
+people is unconditionally transferred to historical persons, and\r
+therefore when describing some single state they assume that particular\r
+power to be the one absolute and real power, and that any other force\r
+opposing this is not a power but a violation of power--mere violence.\r
+\r
+Their theory, suitable for primitive and peaceful periods of history,\r
+has the inconvenience--in application to complex and stormy periods in\r
+the life of nations during which various powers arise simultaneously and\r
+struggle with one another--that a Legitimist historian will prove that\r
+the National Convention, the Directory, and Bonaparte were mere\r
+infringers of the true power, while a Republican and a Bonapartist will\r
+prove: the one that the Convention and the other that the Empire was the\r
+real power, and that all the others were violations of power. Evidently\r
+the explanations furnished by these historians being mutually\r
+contradictory can only satisfy young children.\r
+\r
+Recognizing the falsity of this view of history, another set of\r
+historians say that power rests on a conditional delegation of the will\r
+of the people to their rulers, and that historical leaders have power\r
+only conditionally on carrying out the program that the will of the\r
+people has by tacit agreement prescribed to them. But what this program\r
+consists in these historians do not say, or if they do they continually\r
+contradict one another.\r
+\r
+Each historian, according to his view of what constitutes a nation's\r
+progress, looks for these conditions in the greatness, wealth, freedom,\r
+or enlightenment of citizens of France or some other country. But not to\r
+mention the historians' contradictions as to the nature of this program-\r
+-or even admitting that some one general program of these conditions\r
+exists--the facts of history almost always contradict that theory. If\r
+the conditions under which power is entrusted consist in the wealth,\r
+freedom, and enlightenment of the people, how is it that Louis XIV and\r
+Ivan the Terrible end their reigns tranquilly, while Louis XVI and\r
+Charles I are executed by their people? To this question historians\r
+reply that Louis XIV's activity, contrary to the program, reacted on\r
+Louis XVI. But why did it not react on Louis XIV or on Louis XV--why\r
+should it react just on Louis XVI? And what is the time limit for such\r
+reactions? To these questions there are and can be no answers. Equally\r
+little does this view explain why for several centuries the collective\r
+will is not withdrawn from certain rulers and their heirs, and then\r
+suddenly during a period of fifty years is transferred to the\r
+Convention, to the Directory, to Napoleon, to Alexander, to Louis XVIII,\r
+to Napoleon again, to Charles X, to Louis Philippe, to a Republican\r
+government, and to Napoleon III. When explaining these rapid transfers\r
+of the people's will from one individual to another, especially in view\r
+of international relations, conquests, and alliances, the historians are\r
+obliged to admit that some of these transfers are not normal delegations\r
+of the people's will but are accidents dependent on cunning, on\r
+mistakes, on craft, or on the weakness of a diplomatist, a ruler, or a\r
+party leader. So that the greater part of the events of history--civil\r
+wars, revolutions, and conquests--are presented by these historians not\r
+as the results of free transferences of the people's will, but as\r
+results of the ill-directed will of one or more individuals, that is,\r
+once again, as usurpations of power. And so these historians also see\r
+and admit historical events which are exceptions to the theory.\r
+\r
+These historians resemble a botanist who, having noticed that some\r
+plants grow from seeds producing two cotyledons, should insist that all\r
+that grows does so by sprouting into two leaves, and that the palm, the\r
+mushroom, and even the oak, which blossom into full growth and no longer\r
+resemble two leaves, are deviations from the theory.\r
+\r
+Historians of the third class assume that the will of the people is\r
+transferred to historic personages conditionally, but that the\r
+conditions are unknown to us. They say that historical personages have\r
+power only because they fulfill the will of the people which has been\r
+delegated to them.\r
+\r
+But in that case, if the force that moves nations lies not in the\r
+historic leaders but in the nations themselves, what significance have\r
+those leaders?\r
+\r
+The leaders, these historians tell us, express the will of the people:\r
+the activity of the leaders represents the activity of the people.\r
+\r
+But in that case the question arises whether all the activity of the\r
+leaders serves as an expression of the people's will or only some part\r
+of it. If the whole activity of the leaders serves as the expression of\r
+the people's will, as some historians suppose, then all the details of\r
+the court scandals contained in the biographies of a Napoleon or a\r
+Catherine serve to express the life of the nation, which is evident\r
+nonsense; but if it is only some particular side of the activity of an\r
+historical leader which serves to express the people's life, as other\r
+so-called "philosophical" historians believe, then to determine which\r
+side of the activity of a leader expresses the nation's life, we have\r
+first of all to know in what the nation's life consists.\r
+\r
+Met by this difficulty historians of that class devise some most\r
+obscure, impalpable, and general abstraction which can cover all\r
+conceivable occurrences, and declare this abstraction to be the aim of\r
+humanity's movement. The most usual generalizations adopted by almost\r
+all the historians are: freedom, equality, enlightenment, progress,\r
+civilization, and culture. Postulating some generalization as the goal\r
+of the movement of humanity, the historians study the men of whom the\r
+greatest number of monuments have remained: kings, ministers, generals,\r
+authors, reformers, popes, and journalists, to the extent to which in\r
+their opinion these persons have promoted or hindered that abstraction.\r
+But as it is in no way proved that the aim of humanity does consist in\r
+freedom, equality, enlightenment, or civilization, and as the connection\r
+of the people with the rulers and enlighteners of humanity is only based\r
+on the arbitrary assumption that the collective will of the people is\r
+always transferred to the men whom we have noticed, it happens that the\r
+activity of the millions who migrate, burn houses, abandon agriculture,\r
+and destroy one another never is expressed in the account of the\r
+activity of some dozen people who did not burn houses, practice\r
+agriculture, or slay their fellow creatures.\r
+\r
+History proves this at every turn. Is the ferment of the peoples of the\r
+west at the end of the eighteenth century and their drive eastward\r
+explained by the activity of Louis XIV, XV, and XVI, their mistresses\r
+and ministers, and by the lives of Napoleon, Rousseau, Diderot,\r
+Beaumarchais, and others?\r
+\r
+Is the movement of the Russian people eastward to Kazan and Siberia\r
+expressed by details of the morbid character of Ivan the Terrible and by\r
+his correspondence with Kurbski?\r
+\r
+Is the movement of the peoples at the time of the Crusades explained by\r
+the life and activity of the Godfreys and the Louis-es and their ladies?\r
+For us that movement of the peoples from west to east, without leaders,\r
+with a crowd of vagrants, and with Peter the Hermit, remains\r
+incomprehensible. And yet more incomprehensible is the cessation of that\r
+movement when a rational and sacred aim for the Crusade--the deliverance\r
+of Jerusalem--had been clearly defined by historic leaders. Popes,\r
+kings, and knights incited the peoples to free the Holy Land; but the\r
+people did not go, for the unknown cause which had previously impelled\r
+them to go no longer existed. The history of the Godfreys and the\r
+Minnesingers can evidently not cover the life of the peoples. And the\r
+history of the Godfreys and the Minnesingers has remained the history of\r
+Godfreys and Minnesingers, but the history of the life of the peoples\r
+and their impulses has remained unknown.\r
+\r
+Still less does the history of authors and reformers explain to us the\r
+life of the peoples.\r
+\r
+The history of culture explains to us the impulses and conditions of\r
+life and thought of a writer or a reformer. We learn that Luther had a\r
+hot temper and said such and such things; we learn that Rousseau was\r
+suspicious and wrote such and such books; but we do not learn why after\r
+the Reformation the peoples massacred one another, nor why during the\r
+French Revolution they guillotined one another.\r
+\r
+If we unite both these kinds of history, as is done by the newest\r
+historians, we shall have the history of monarchs and writers, but not\r
+the history of the life of the peoples.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER V\r
+\r
+The life of the nations is not contained in the lives of a few men, for\r
+the connection between those men and the nations has not been found. The\r
+theory that this connection is based on the transference of the\r
+collective will of a people to certain historical personages is an\r
+hypothesis unconfirmed by the experience of history.\r
+\r
+The theory of the transference of the collective will of the people to\r
+historic persons may perhaps explain much in the domain of jurisprudence\r
+and be essential for its purposes, but in its application to history, as\r
+soon as revolutions, conquests, or civil wars occur--that is, as soon as\r
+history begins--that theory explains nothing.\r
+\r
+The theory seems irrefutable just because the act of transference of the\r
+people's will cannot be verified, for it never occurred.\r
+\r
+Whatever happens and whoever may stand at the head of affairs, the\r
+theory can always say that such and such a person took the lead because\r
+the collective will was transferred to him.\r
+\r
+The replies this theory gives to historical questions are like the\r
+replies of a man who, watching the movements of a herd of cattle and\r
+paying no attention to the varying quality of the pasturage in different\r
+parts of the field, or to the driving of the herdsman, should attribute\r
+the direction the herd takes to what animal happens to be at its head.\r
+\r
+"The herd goes in that direction because the animal in front leads it\r
+and the collective will of all the other animals is vested in that\r
+leader." This is what historians of the first class say--those who\r
+assume the unconditional transference of the people's will.\r
+\r
+"If the animals leading the herd change, this happens because the\r
+collective will of all the animals is transferred from one leader to\r
+another, according to whether the animal is or is not leading them in\r
+the direction selected by the whole herd." Such is the reply historians\r
+who assume that the collective will of the people is delegated to rulers\r
+under conditions which they regard as known. (With this method of\r
+observation it often happens that the observer, influenced by the\r
+direction he himself prefers, regards those as leaders who, owing to the\r
+people's change of direction, are no longer in front, but on one side,\r
+or even in the rear.)\r
+\r
+"If the animals in front are continually changing and the direction of\r
+the whole herd is constantly altered, this is because in order to follow\r
+a given direction the animals transfer their will to the animals that\r
+have attracted our attention, and to study the movements of the herd we\r
+must watch the movements of all the prominent animals moving on all\r
+sides of the herd." So say the third class of historians who regard all\r
+historical persons, from monarchs to journalists, as the expression of\r
+their age.\r
+\r
+The theory of the transference of the will of the people to historic\r
+persons is merely a paraphrase--a restatement of the question in other\r
+words.\r
+\r
+What causes historical events? Power. What is power? Power is the\r
+collective will of the people transferred to one person. Under what\r
+condition is the will of the people delegated to one person? On\r
+condition that that person expresses the will of the whole people. That\r
+is, power is power: in other words, power is a word the meaning of which\r
+we do not understand.\r
+\r
+If the realm of human knowledge were confined to abstract reasoning,\r
+then having subjected to criticism the explanation of "power" that\r
+juridical science gives us, humanity would conclude that power is merely\r
+a word and has no real existence. But to understand phenomena man has,\r
+besides abstract reasoning, experience by which he verifies his\r
+reflections. And experience tells us that power is not merely a word but\r
+an actually existing phenomenon.\r
+\r
+Not to speak of the fact that no description of the collective activity\r
+of men can do without the conception of power, the existence of power is\r
+proved both by history and by observing contemporary events.\r
+\r
+Whenever an event occurs a man appears or men appear, by whose will the\r
+event seems to have taken place. Napoleon III issues a decree and the\r
+French go to Mexico. The King of Prussia and Bismarck issue decrees and\r
+an army enters Bohemia. Napoleon I issues a decree and an army enters\r
+Russia. Alexander I gives a command and the French submit to the\r
+Bourbons. Experience shows us that whatever event occurs it is always\r
+related to the will of one or of several men who have decreed it.\r
+\r
+The historians, in accord with the old habit of acknowledging divine\r
+intervention in human affairs, want to see the cause of events in the\r
+expression of the will of someone endowed with power, but that\r
+supposition is not confirmed either by reason or by experience.\r
+\r
+On the one side reflection shows that the expression of a man's will--\r
+his words--are only part of the general activity expressed in an event,\r
+as for instance in a war or a revolution, and so without assuming an\r
+incomprehensible, supernatural force--a miracle--one cannot admit that\r
+words can be the immediate cause of the movements of millions of men. On\r
+the other hand, even if we admitted that words could be the cause of\r
+events, history shows that the expression of the will of historical\r
+personages does not in most cases produce any effect, that is to say,\r
+their commands are often not executed, and sometimes the very opposite\r
+of what they order occurs.\r
+\r
+Without admitting divine intervention in the affairs of humanity we\r
+cannot regard "power" as the cause of events.\r
+\r
+Power, from the standpoint of experience, is merely the relation that\r
+exists between the expression of someone's will and the execution of\r
+that will by others.\r
+\r
+To explain the conditions of that relationship we must first establish a\r
+conception of the expression of will, referring it to man and not to the\r
+Deity.\r
+\r
+If the Deity issues a command, expresses His will, as ancient history\r
+tells us, the expression of that will is independent of time and is not\r
+caused by anything, for the Divinity is not controlled by an event. But\r
+speaking of commands that are the expression of the will of men acting\r
+in time and in relation to one another, to explain the connection of\r
+commands with events we must restore: (1) the condition of all that\r
+takes place: the continuity of movement in time both of the events and\r
+of the person who commands, and (2) the inevitability of the connection\r
+between the person commanding and those who execute his command.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VI\r
+\r
+Only the expression of the will of the Deity, not dependent on time, can\r
+relate to a whole series of events occurring over a period of years or\r
+centuries, and only the Deity, independent of everything, can by His\r
+sole will determine the direction of humanity's movement; but man acts\r
+in time and himself takes part in what occurs.\r
+\r
+Reinstating the first condition omitted, that of time, we see that no\r
+command can be executed without some preceding order having been given\r
+rendering the execution of the last command possible.\r
+\r
+No command ever appears spontaneously, or itself covers a whole series\r
+of occurrences; but each command follows from another, and never refers\r
+to a whole series of events but always to one moment only of an event.\r
+\r
+When, for instance, we say that Napoleon ordered armies to go to war, we\r
+combine in one simultaneous expression a whole series of consecutive\r
+commands dependent one on another. Napoleon could not have commanded an\r
+invasion of Russia and never did so. Today he ordered such and such\r
+papers to be written to Vienna, to Berlin, and to Petersburg; tomorrow\r
+such and such decrees and orders to the army, the fleet, the\r
+commissariat, and so on and so on--millions of commands, which formed a\r
+whole series corresponding to a series of events which brought the\r
+French armies into Russia.\r
+\r
+If throughout his reign Napoleon gave commands concerning an invasion of\r
+England and expended on no other undertaking so much time and effort,\r
+and yet during his whole reign never once attempted to execute that\r
+design but undertook an expedition into Russia, with which country he\r
+considered it desirable to be in alliance (a conviction he repeatedly\r
+expressed)--this came about because his commands did not correspond to\r
+the course of events in the first case, but did so correspond in the\r
+latter.\r
+\r
+For an order to be certainly executed, it is necessary that a man should\r
+order what can be executed. But to know what can and what cannot be\r
+executed is impossible, not only in the case of Napoleon's invasion of\r
+Russia in which millions participated, but even in the simplest event,\r
+for in either case millions of obstacles may arise to prevent its\r
+execution. Every order executed is always one of an immense number\r
+unexecuted. All the impossible orders inconsistent with the course of\r
+events remain unexecuted. Only the possible ones get linked up with a\r
+consecutive series of commands corresponding to a series of events, and\r
+are executed.\r
+\r
+Our false conception that an event is caused by a command which precedes\r
+it is due to the fact that when the event has taken place and out of\r
+thousands of others those few commands which were consistent with that\r
+event have been executed, we forget about the others that were not\r
+executed because they could not be. Apart from that, the chief source of\r
+our error in this matter is due to the fact that in the historical\r
+accounts a whole series of innumerable, diverse, and petty events, such\r
+for instance as all those which led the French armies to Russia, is\r
+generalized into one event in accord with the result produced by that\r
+series of events, and corresponding with this generalization the whole\r
+series of commands is also generalized into a single expression of will.\r
+\r
+We say that Napoleon wished to invade Russia and invaded it. In reality\r
+in all Napoleon's activity we never find anything resembling an\r
+expression of that wish, but find a series of orders, or expressions of\r
+his will, very variously and indefinitely directed. Amid a long series\r
+of unexecuted orders of Napoleon's one series, for the campaign of 1812,\r
+was carried out--not because those orders differed in any way from the\r
+other, unexecuted orders but because they coincided with the course of\r
+events that led the French army into Russia; just as in stencil work\r
+this or that figure comes out not because the color was laid on from\r
+this side or in that way, but because it was laid on from all sides over\r
+the figure cut in the stencil.\r
+\r
+So that examining the relation in time of the commands to the events, we\r
+find that a command can never be the cause of the event, but that a\r
+certain definite dependence exists between the two.\r
+\r
+To understand in what this dependence consists it is necessary to\r
+reinstate another omitted condition of every command proceeding not from\r
+the Deity but from a man, which is, that the man who gives the command\r
+himself takes part in the event.\r
+\r
+This relation of the commander to those he commands is just what is\r
+called power. This relation consists in the following:\r
+\r
+For common action people always unite in certain combinations, in which\r
+regardless of the difference of the aims set for the common action, the\r
+relation between those taking part in it is always the same.\r
+\r
+Men uniting in these combinations always assume such relations toward\r
+one another that the larger number take a more direct share, and the\r
+smaller number a less direct share, in the collective action for which\r
+they have combined.\r
+\r
+Of all the combinations in which men unite for collective action one of\r
+the most striking and definite examples is an army.\r
+\r
+Every army is composed of lower grades of the service--the rank and\r
+file--of whom there are always the greatest number; of the next higher\r
+military rank--corporals and noncommissioned officers of whom there are\r
+fewer, and of still-higher officers of whom there are still fewer, and\r
+so on to the highest military command which is concentrated in one\r
+person.\r
+\r
+A military organization may be quite correctly compared to a cone, of\r
+which the base with the largest diameter consists of the rank and file;\r
+the next higher and smaller section of the cone consists of the next\r
+higher grades of the army, and so on to the apex, the point of which\r
+will represent the commander-in-chief.\r
+\r
+The soldiers, of whom there are the most, form the lower section of the\r
+cone and its base. The soldier himself does the stabbing, hacking,\r
+burning, and pillaging, and always receives orders for these actions\r
+from men above him; he himself never gives an order. The noncommissioned\r
+officers (of whom there are fewer) perform the action itself less\r
+frequently than the soldiers, but they already give commands. An officer\r
+still less often acts directly himself, but commands still more\r
+frequently. A general does nothing but command the troops, indicates the\r
+objective, and hardly ever uses a weapon himself. The commander-in-chief\r
+never takes direct part in the action itself, but only gives general\r
+orders concerning the movement of the mass of the troops. A similar\r
+relation of people to one another is seen in every combination of men\r
+for common activity--in agriculture, trade, and every administration.\r
+\r
+And so without particularly analyzing all the contiguous sections of a\r
+cone and of the ranks of an army, or the ranks and positions in any\r
+administrative or public business whatever from the lowest to the\r
+highest, we see a law by which men, to take associated action, combine\r
+in such relations that the more directly they participate in performing\r
+the action the less they can command and the more numerous they are,\r
+while the less their direct participation in the action itself, the more\r
+they command and the fewer of them there are; rising in this way from\r
+the lowest ranks to the man at the top, who takes the least direct share\r
+in the action and directs his activity chiefly to commanding.\r
+\r
+This relation of the men who command to those they command is what\r
+constitutes the essence of the conception called power.\r
+\r
+Having restored the condition of time under which all events occur, we\r
+find that a command is executed only when it is related to a\r
+corresponding series of events. Restoring the essential condition of\r
+relation between those who command and those who execute, we find that\r
+by the very nature of the case those who command take the smallest part\r
+in the action itself and that their activity is exclusively directed to\r
+commanding.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VII\r
+\r
+When an event is taking place people express their opinions and wishes\r
+about it, and as the event results from the collective activity of many\r
+people, some one of the opinions or wishes expressed is sure to be\r
+fulfilled if but approximately. When one of the opinions expressed is\r
+fulfilled, that opinion gets connected with the event as a command\r
+preceding it.\r
+\r
+Men are hauling a log. Each of them expresses his opinion as to how and\r
+where to haul it. They haul the log away, and it happens that this is\r
+done as one of them said. He ordered it. There we have command and power\r
+in their primary form. The man who worked most with his hands could not\r
+think so much about what he was doing, or reflect on or command what\r
+would result from the common activity; while the man who commanded more\r
+would evidently work less with his hands on account of his greater\r
+verbal activity.\r
+\r
+When some larger concourse of men direct their activity to a common aim\r
+there is a yet sharper division of those who, because their activity is\r
+given to directing and commanding, take less part in the direct work.\r
+\r
+When a man works alone he always has a certain set of reflections which\r
+as it seems to him directed his past activity, justify his present\r
+activity, and guide him in planning his future actions. Just the same is\r
+done by a concourse of people, allowing those who do not take a direct\r
+part in the activity to devise considerations, justifications, and\r
+surmises concerning their collective activity.\r
+\r
+For reasons known or unknown to us the French began to drown and kill\r
+one another. And corresponding to the event its justification appears in\r
+people's belief that this was necessary for the welfare of France, for\r
+liberty, and for equality. People ceased to kill one another, and this\r
+event was accompanied by its justification in the necessity for a\r
+centralization of power, resistance to Europe, and so on. Men went from\r
+the west to the east killing their fellow men, and the event was\r
+accompanied by phrases about the glory of France, the baseness of\r
+England, and so on. History shows us that these justifications of the\r
+events have no common sense and are all contradictory, as in the case of\r
+killing a man as the result of recognizing his rights, and the killing\r
+of millions in Russia for the humiliation of England. But these\r
+justifications have a very necessary significance in their own day.\r
+\r
+These justifications release those who produce the events from moral\r
+responsibility. These temporary aims are like the broom fixed in front\r
+of a locomotive to clear the snow from the rails in front: they clear\r
+men's moral responsibilities from their path.\r
+\r
+Without such justification there would be no reply to the simplest\r
+question that presents itself when examining each historical event. How\r
+is it that millions of men commit collective crimes--make war, commit\r
+murder, and so on?\r
+\r
+With the present complex forms of political and social life in Europe\r
+can any event that is not prescribed, decreed, or ordered by monarchs,\r
+ministers, parliaments, or newspapers be imagined? Is there any\r
+collective action which cannot find its justification in political\r
+unity, in patriotism, in the balance of power, or in civilization? So\r
+that every event that occurs inevitably coincides with some expressed\r
+wish and, receiving a justification, presents itself as the result of\r
+the will of one man or of several men.\r
+\r
+In whatever direction a ship moves, the flow of the waves it cuts will\r
+always be noticeable ahead of it. To those on board the ship the\r
+movement of those waves will be the only perceptible motion.\r
+\r
+Only by watching closely moment by moment the movement of that flow and\r
+comparing it with the movement of the ship do we convince ourselves that\r
+every bit of it is occasioned by the forward movement of the ship, and\r
+that we were led into error by the fact that we ourselves were\r
+imperceptibly moving.\r
+\r
+We see the same if we watch moment by moment the movement of historical\r
+characters (that is, re-establish the inevitable condition of all that\r
+occurs--the continuity of movement in time) and do not lose sight of the\r
+essential connection of historical persons with the masses.\r
+\r
+When the ship moves in one direction there is one and the same wave\r
+ahead of it, when it turns frequently the wave ahead of it also turns\r
+frequently. But wherever it may turn there always will be the wave\r
+anticipating its movement.\r
+\r
+Whatever happens it always appears that just that event was foreseen and\r
+decreed. Wherever the ship may go, the rush of water which neither\r
+directs nor increases its movement foams ahead of it, and at a distance\r
+seems to us not merely to move of itself but to govern the ship's\r
+movement also.\r
+\r
+Examining only those expressions of the will of historical persons\r
+which, as commands, were related to events, historians have assumed that\r
+the events depended on those commands. But examining the events\r
+themselves and the connection in which the historical persons stood to\r
+the people, we have found that they and their orders were dependent on\r
+events. The incontestable proof of this deduction is that, however many\r
+commands were issued, the event does not take place unless there are\r
+other causes for it, but as soon as an event occurs--be it what it may--\r
+then out of all the continually expressed wishes of different people\r
+some will always be found which by their meaning and their time of\r
+utterance are related as commands to the events.\r
+\r
+Arriving at this conclusion we can reply directly and positively to\r
+these two essential questions of history:\r
+\r
+(1) What is power?\r
+\r
+(2) What force produces the movement of the nations?\r
+\r
+(1) Power is the relation of a given person to other individuals, in\r
+which the more this person expresses opinions, predictions, and\r
+justifications of the collective action that is performed, the less is\r
+his participation in that action.\r
+\r
+(2) The movement of nations is caused not by power, nor by intellectual\r
+activity, nor even by a combination of the two as historians have\r
+supposed, but by the activity of all the people who participate in the\r
+events, and who always combine in such a way that those taking the\r
+largest direct share in the event take on themselves the least\r
+responsibility and vice versa.\r
+\r
+Morally the wielder of power appears to cause the event; physically it\r
+is those who submit to the power. But as the moral activity is\r
+inconceivable without the physical, the cause of the event is neither in\r
+the one nor in the other but in the union of the two.\r
+\r
+Or in other words, the conception of a cause is inapplicable to the\r
+phenomena we are examining.\r
+\r
+In the last analysis we reach the circle of infinity--that final limit\r
+to which in every domain of thought man's reason arrives if it is not\r
+playing with the subject. Electricity produces heat, heat produces\r
+electricity. Atoms attract each other and atoms repel one another.\r
+\r
+Speaking of the interaction of heat and electricity and of atoms, we\r
+cannot say why this occurs, and we say that it is so because it is\r
+inconceivable otherwise, because it must be so and that it is a law. The\r
+same applies to historical events. Why war and revolution occur we do\r
+not know. We only know that to produce the one or the other action,\r
+people combine in a certain formation in which they all take part, and\r
+we say that this is so because it is unthinkable otherwise, or in other\r
+words that it is a law.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER VIII\r
+\r
+If history dealt only with external phenomena, the establishment of this\r
+simple and obvious law would suffice and we should have finished our\r
+argument. But the law of history relates to man. A particle of matter\r
+cannot tell us that it does not feel the law of attraction or repulsion\r
+and that that law is untrue, but man, who is the subject of history,\r
+says plainly: I am free and am therefore not subject to the law.\r
+\r
+The presence of the problem of man's free will, though unexpressed, is\r
+felt at every step of history.\r
+\r
+All seriously thinking historians have involuntarily encountered this\r
+question. All the contradictions and obscurities of history and the\r
+false path historical science has followed are due solely to the lack of\r
+a solution of that question.\r
+\r
+If the will of every man were free, that is, if each man could act as he\r
+pleased, all history would be a series of disconnected incidents.\r
+\r
+If in a thousand years even one man in a million could act freely, that\r
+is, as he chose, it is evident that one single free act of that man's in\r
+violation of the laws governing human action would destroy the\r
+possibility of the existence of any laws for the whole of humanity.\r
+\r
+If there be a single law governing the actions of men, free will cannot\r
+exist, for then man's will is subject to that law.\r
+\r
+In this contradiction lies the problem of free will, which from most\r
+ancient times has occupied the best human minds and from most ancient\r
+times has been presented in its whole tremendous significance.\r
+\r
+The problem is that regarding man as a subject of observation from\r
+whatever point of view--theological, historical, ethical, or\r
+philosophic--we find a general law of necessity to which he (like all\r
+that exists) is subject. But regarding him from within ourselves as what\r
+we are conscious of, we feel ourselves to be free.\r
+\r
+This consciousness is a source of self-cognition quite apart from and\r
+independent of reason. Through his reason man observes himself, but only\r
+through consciousness does he know himself.\r
+\r
+Apart from consciousness of self no observation or application of reason\r
+is conceivable.\r
+\r
+To understand, observe, and draw conclusions, man must first of all be\r
+conscious of himself as living. A man is only conscious of himself as a\r
+living being by the fact that he wills, that is, is conscious of his\r
+volition. But his will--which forms the essence of his life--man\r
+recognizes (and can but recognize) as free.\r
+\r
+If, observing himself, man sees that his will is always directed by one\r
+and the same law (whether he observes the necessity of taking food,\r
+using his brain, or anything else) he cannot recognize this never-\r
+varying direction of his will otherwise than as a limitation of it. Were\r
+it not free it could not be limited. A man's will seems to him to be\r
+limited just because he is not conscious of it except as free.\r
+\r
+You say: I am not free. But I have lifted my hand and let it fall.\r
+Everyone understands that this illogical reply is an irrefutable\r
+demonstration of freedom.\r
+\r
+That reply is the expression of a consciousness that is not subject to\r
+reason.\r
+\r
+If the consciousness of freedom were not a separate and independent\r
+source of self-consciousness it would be subject to reasoning and to\r
+experience, but in fact such subjection does not exist and is\r
+inconceivable.\r
+\r
+A series of experiments and arguments proves to every man that he, as an\r
+object of observation, is subject to certain laws, and man submits to\r
+them and never resists the laws of gravity or impermeability once he has\r
+become acquainted with them. But the same series of experiments and\r
+arguments proves to him that the complete freedom of which he is\r
+conscious in himself is impossible, and that his every action depends on\r
+his organization, his character, and the motives acting upon him; yet\r
+man never submits to the deductions of these experiments and arguments.\r
+Having learned from experiment and argument that a stone falls\r
+downwards, a man indubitably believes this and always expects the law\r
+that he has learned to be fulfilled.\r
+\r
+But learning just as certainly that his will is subject to laws, he does\r
+not and cannot believe this.\r
+\r
+However often experiment and reasoning may show a man that under the\r
+same conditions and with the same character he will do the same thing as\r
+before, yet when under the same conditions and with the same character\r
+he approaches for the thousandth time the action that always ends in the\r
+same way, he feels as certainly convinced as before the experiment that\r
+he can act as he pleases. Every man, savage or sage, however\r
+incontestably reason and experiment may prove to him that it is\r
+impossible to imagine two different courses of action in precisely the\r
+same conditions, feels that without this irrational conception (which\r
+constitutes the essence of freedom) he cannot imagine life. He feels\r
+that however impossible it may be, it is so, for without this conception\r
+of freedom not only would he be unable to understand life, but he would\r
+be unable to live for a single moment.\r
+\r
+He could not live, because all man's efforts, all his impulses to life,\r
+are only efforts to increase freedom. Wealth and poverty, fame and\r
+obscurity, power and subordination, strength and weakness, health and\r
+disease, culture and ignorance, work and leisure, repletion and hunger,\r
+virtue and vice, are only greater or lesser degrees of freedom.\r
+\r
+A man having no freedom cannot be conceived of except as deprived of\r
+life.\r
+\r
+If the conception of freedom appears to reason to be a senseless\r
+contradiction like the possibility of performing two actions at one and\r
+the same instant of time, or of an effect without a cause, that only\r
+proves that consciousness is not subject to reason.\r
+\r
+This unshakable, irrefutable consciousness of freedom, uncontrolled by\r
+experiment or argument, recognized by all thinkers and felt by everyone\r
+without exception, this consciousness without which no conception of man\r
+is possible constitutes the other side of the question.\r
+\r
+Man is the creation of an all-powerful, all-good, and all-seeing God.\r
+What is sin, the conception of which arises from the consciousness of\r
+man's freedom? That is a question for theology.\r
+\r
+The actions of men are subject to general immutable laws expressed in\r
+statistics. What is man's responsibility to society, the conception of\r
+which results from the conception of freedom? That is a question for\r
+jurisprudence.\r
+\r
+Man's actions proceed from his innate character and the motives acting\r
+upon him. What is conscience and the perception of right and wrong in\r
+actions that follows from the consciousness of freedom? That is a\r
+question for ethics.\r
+\r
+Man in connection with the general life of humanity appears subject to\r
+laws which determine that life. But the same man apart from that\r
+connection appears to be free. How should the past life of nations and\r
+of humanity be regarded--as the result of the free, or as the result of\r
+the constrained, activity of man? That is a question for history.\r
+\r
+Only in our self-confident day of the popularization of knowledge--\r
+thanks to that most powerful engine of ignorance, the diffusion of\r
+printed matter--has the question of the freedom of will been put on a\r
+level on which the question itself cannot exist. In our time the\r
+majority of so-called advanced people--that is, the crowd of\r
+ignoramuses--have taken the work of the naturalists who deal with one\r
+side of the question for a solution of the whole problem.\r
+\r
+They say and write and print that the soul and freedom do not exist, for\r
+the life of man is expressed by muscular movements and muscular\r
+movements are conditioned by the activity of the nerves; the soul and\r
+free will do not exist because at an unknown period of time we sprang\r
+from the apes. They say this, not at all suspecting that thousands of\r
+years ago that same law of necessity which with such ardor they are now\r
+trying to prove by physiology and comparative zoology was not merely\r
+acknowledged by all the religions and all the thinkers, but has never\r
+been denied. They do not see that the role of the natural sciences in\r
+this matter is merely to serve as an instrument for the illumination of\r
+one side of it. For the fact that, from the point of view of\r
+observation, reason and the will are merely secretions of the brain, and\r
+that man following the general law may have developed from lower animals\r
+at some unknown period of time, only explains from a fresh side the\r
+truth admitted thousands of years ago by all the religious and\r
+philosophic theories--that from the point of view of reason man is\r
+subject to the law of necessity; but it does not advance by a hair's\r
+breadth the solution of the question, which has another, opposite, side,\r
+based on the consciousness of freedom.\r
+\r
+If men descended from the apes at an unknown period of time, that is as\r
+comprehensible as that they were made from a handful of earth at a\r
+certain period of time (in the first case the unknown quantity is the\r
+time, in the second case it is the origin); and the question of how\r
+man's consciousness of freedom is to be reconciled with the law of\r
+necessity to which he is subject cannot be solved by comparative\r
+physiology and zoology, for in a frog, a rabbit, or an ape, we can\r
+observe only the muscular nervous activity, but in man we observe\r
+consciousness as well as the muscular and nervous activity.\r
+\r
+The naturalists and their followers, thinking they can solve this\r
+question, are like plasterers set to plaster one side of the walls of a\r
+church who, availing themselves of the absence of the chief\r
+superintendent of the work, should in an access of zeal plaster over the\r
+windows, icons, woodwork, and still unbuttressed walls, and should be\r
+delighted that from their point of view as plasterers, everything is now\r
+so smooth and regular.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER IX\r
+\r
+For the solution of the question of free will or inevitability, history\r
+has this advantage over other branches of knowledge in which the\r
+question is dealt with, that for history this question does not refer to\r
+the essence of man's free will but its manifestation in the past and\r
+under certain conditions.\r
+\r
+In regard to this question, history stands to the other sciences as\r
+experimental science stands to abstract science.\r
+\r
+The subject for history is not man's will itself but our presentation of\r
+it.\r
+\r
+And so for history, the insoluble mystery presented by the\r
+incompatibility of free will and inevitability does not exist as it does\r
+for theology, ethics, and philosophy. History surveys a presentation of\r
+man's life in which the union of these two contradictions has already\r
+taken place.\r
+\r
+In actual life each historic event, each human action, is very clearly\r
+and definitely understood without any sense of contradiction, although\r
+each event presents itself as partly free and partly compulsory.\r
+\r
+To solve the question of how freedom and necessity are combined and what\r
+constitutes the essence of these two conceptions, the philosophy of\r
+history can and should follow a path contrary to that taken by other\r
+sciences. Instead of first defining the conceptions of freedom and\r
+inevitability in themselves, and then ranging the phenomena of life\r
+under those definitions, history should deduce a definition of the\r
+conception of freedom and inevitability themselves from the immense\r
+quantity of phenomena of which it is cognizant and that always appear\r
+dependent on these two elements.\r
+\r
+Whatever presentation of the activity of many men or of an individual we\r
+may consider, we always regard it as the result partly of man's free\r
+will and partly of the law of inevitability.\r
+\r
+Whether we speak of the migration of the peoples and the incursions of\r
+the barbarians, or of the decrees of Napoleon III, or of someone's\r
+action an hour ago in choosing one direction out of several for his\r
+walk, we are unconscious of any contradiction. The degree of freedom and\r
+inevitability governing the actions of these people is clearly defined\r
+for us.\r
+\r
+Our conception of the degree of freedom often varies according to\r
+differences in the point of view from which we regard the event, but\r
+every human action appears to us as a certain combination of freedom and\r
+inevitability. In every action we examine we see a certain measure of\r
+freedom and a certain measure of inevitability. And always the more\r
+freedom we see in any action the less inevitability do we perceive, and\r
+the more inevitability the less freedom.\r
+\r
+The proportion of freedom to inevitability decreases and increases\r
+according to the point of view from which the action is regarded, but\r
+their relation is always one of inverse proportion.\r
+\r
+A sinking man who clutches at another and drowns him; or a hungry mother\r
+exhausted by feeding her baby, who steals some food; or a man trained to\r
+discipline who on duty at the word of command kills a defenseless man--\r
+seem less guilty, that is, less free and more subject to the law of\r
+necessity, to one who knows the circumstances in which these people were\r
+placed, and more free to one who does not know that the man was himself\r
+drowning, that the mother was hungry, that the soldier was in the ranks,\r
+and so on. Similarly a man who committed a murder twenty years ago and\r
+has since lived peaceably and harmlessly in society seems less guilty\r
+and his action more due to the law of inevitability, to someone who\r
+considers his action after twenty years have elapsed than to one who\r
+examined it the day after it was committed. And in the same way every\r
+action of an insane, intoxicated, or highly excited man appears less\r
+free and more inevitable to one who knows the mental condition of him\r
+who committed the action, and seems more free and less inevitable to one\r
+who does not know it. In all these cases the conception of freedom is\r
+increased or diminished and the conception of compulsion is\r
+correspondingly decreased or increased, according to the point of view\r
+from which the action is regarded. So that the greater the conception of\r
+necessity the smaller the conception of freedom and vice versa.\r
+\r
+Religion, the common sense of mankind, the science of jurisprudence, and\r
+history itself understand alike this relation between necessity and\r
+freedom.\r
+\r
+All cases without exception in which our conception of freedom and\r
+necessity is increased and diminished depend on three considerations:\r
+\r
+(1) The relation to the external world of the man who commits the deeds.\r
+\r
+(2) His relation to time.\r
+\r
+(3) His relation to the causes leading to the action.\r
+\r
+The first consideration is the clearness of our perception of the man's\r
+relation to the external world and the greater or lesser clearness of\r
+our understanding of the definite position occupied by the man in\r
+relation to everything coexisting with him. This is what makes it\r
+evident that a drowning man is less free and more subject to necessity\r
+than one standing on dry ground, and that makes the actions of a man\r
+closely connected with others in a thickly populated district, or of one\r
+bound by family, official, or business duties, seem certainly less free\r
+and more subject to necessity than those of a man living in solitude and\r
+seclusion.\r
+\r
+If we consider a man alone, apart from his relation to everything around\r
+him, each action of his seems to us free. But if we see his relation to\r
+anything around him, if we see his connection with anything whatever--\r
+with a man who speaks to him, a book he reads, the work on which he is\r
+engaged, even with the air he breathes or the light that falls on the\r
+things about him--we see that each of these circumstances has an\r
+influence on him and controls at least some side of his activity. And\r
+the more we perceive of these influences the more our conception of his\r
+freedom diminishes and the more our conception of the necessity that\r
+weighs on him increases.\r
+\r
+The second consideration is the more or less evident time relation of\r
+the man to the world and the clearness of our perception of the place\r
+the man's action occupies in time. That is the ground which makes the\r
+fall of the first man, resulting in the production of the human race,\r
+appear evidently less free than a man's entry into marriage today. It is\r
+the reason why the life and activity of people who lived centuries ago\r
+and are connected with me in time cannot seem to me as free as the life\r
+of a contemporary, the consequences of which are still unknown to me.\r
+\r
+The degree of our conception of freedom or inevitability depends in this\r
+respect on the greater or lesser lapse of time between the performance\r
+of the action and our judgment of it.\r
+\r
+If I examine an act I performed a moment ago in approximately the same\r
+circumstances as those I am in now, my action appears to me undoubtedly\r
+free. But if I examine an act performed a month ago, then being in\r
+different circumstances, I cannot help recognizing that if that act had\r
+not been committed much that resulted from it--good, agreeable, and even\r
+essential--would not have taken place. If I reflect on an action still\r
+more remote, ten years ago or more, then the consequences of my action\r
+are still plainer to me and I find it hard to imagine what would have\r
+happened had that action not been performed. The farther I go back in\r
+memory, or what is the same thing the farther I go forward in my\r
+judgment, the more doubtful becomes my belief in the freedom of my\r
+action.\r
+\r
+In history we find a very similar progress of conviction concerning the\r
+part played by free will in the general affairs of humanity. A\r
+contemporary event seems to us to be indubitably the doing of all the\r
+known participants, but with a more remote event we already see its\r
+inevitable results which prevent our considering anything else possible.\r
+And the farther we go back in examining events the less arbitrary do\r
+they appear.\r
+\r
+The Austro-Prussian war appears to us undoubtedly the result of the\r
+crafty conduct of Bismarck, and so on. The Napoleonic wars still seem to\r
+us, though already questionably, to be the outcome of their heroes'\r
+will. But in the Crusades we already see an event occupying its definite\r
+place in history and without which we cannot imagine the modern history\r
+of Europe, though to the chroniclers of the Crusades that event appeared\r
+as merely due to the will of certain people. In regard to the migration\r
+of the peoples it does not enter anyone's head today to suppose that the\r
+renovation of the European world depended on Attila's caprice. The\r
+farther back in history the object of our observation lies, the more\r
+doubtful does the free will of those concerned in the event become and\r
+the more manifest the law of inevitability.\r
+\r
+The third consideration is the degree to which we apprehend that endless\r
+chain of causation inevitably demanded by reason, in which each\r
+phenomenon comprehended, and therefore man's every action, must have its\r
+definite place as a result of what has gone before and as a cause of\r
+what will follow.\r
+\r
+The better we are acquainted with the physiological, psychological, and\r
+historical laws deduced by observation and by which man is controlled,\r
+and the more correctly we perceive the physiological, psychological, and\r
+historical causes of the action, and the simpler the action we are\r
+observing and the less complex the character and mind of the man in\r
+question, the more subject to inevitability and the less free do our\r
+actions and those of others appear.\r
+\r
+When we do not at all understand the cause of an action, whether a\r
+crime, a good action, or even one that is simply nonmoral, we ascribe a\r
+greater amount of freedom to it. In the case of a crime we most urgently\r
+demand the punishment for such an act; in the case of a virtuous act we\r
+rate its merit most highly. In an indifferent case we recognize in it\r
+more individuality, originality, and independence. But if even one of\r
+the innumerable causes of the act is known to us we recognize a certain\r
+element of necessity and are less insistent on punishment for the crime,\r
+or the acknowledgment of the merit of the virtuous act, or the freedom\r
+of the apparently original action. That a criminal was reared among male\r
+factors mitigates his fault in our eyes. The self-sacrifice of a father\r
+or mother, or self-sacrifice with the possibility of a reward, is more\r
+comprehensible than gratuitous self-sacrifice, and therefore seems less\r
+deserving of sympathy and less the result of free will. The founder of a\r
+sect or party, or an inventor, impresses us less when we know how or by\r
+what the way was prepared for his activity. If we have a large range of\r
+examples, if our observation is constantly directed to seeking the\r
+correlation of cause and effect in people's actions, their actions\r
+appear to us more under compulsion and less free the more correctly we\r
+connect the effects with the causes. If we examined simple actions and\r
+had a vast number of such actions under observation, our conception of\r
+their inevitability would be still greater. The dishonest conduct of the\r
+son of a dishonest father, the misconduct of a woman who had fallen into\r
+bad company, a drunkard's relapse into drunkenness, and so on are\r
+actions that seem to us less free the better we understand their cause.\r
+If the man whose actions we are considering is on a very low stage of\r
+mental development, like a child, a madman, or a simpleton--then,\r
+knowing the causes of the act and the simplicity of the character and\r
+intelligence in question, we see so large an element of necessity and so\r
+little free will that as soon as we know the cause prompting the action\r
+we can foretell the result.\r
+\r
+On these three considerations alone is based the conception of\r
+irresponsibility for crimes and the extenuating circumstances admitted\r
+by all legislative codes. The responsibility appears greater or less\r
+according to our greater or lesser knowledge of the circumstances in\r
+which the man was placed whose action is being judged, and according to\r
+the greater or lesser interval of time between the commission of the\r
+action and its investigation, and according to the greater or lesser\r
+understanding of the causes that led to the action.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER X\r
+\r
+Thus our conception of free will and inevitability gradually diminishes\r
+or increases according to the greater or lesser connection with the\r
+external world, the greater or lesser remoteness of time, and the\r
+greater or lesser dependence on the causes in relation to which we\r
+contemplate a man's life.\r
+\r
+So that if we examine the case of a man whose connection with the\r
+external world is well known, where the time between the action and its\r
+examination is great, and where the causes of the action are most\r
+accessible, we get the conception of a maximum of inevitability and a\r
+minimum of free will. If we examine a man little dependent on external\r
+conditions, whose action was performed very recently, and the causes of\r
+whose action are beyond our ken, we get the conception of a minimum of\r
+inevitability and a maximum of freedom.\r
+\r
+In neither case--however we may change our point of view, however plain\r
+we may make to ourselves the connection between the man and the external\r
+world, however inaccessible it may be to us, however long or short the\r
+period of time, however intelligible or incomprehensible the causes of\r
+the action may be--can we ever conceive either complete freedom or\r
+complete necessity.\r
+\r
+(1) To whatever degree we may imagine a man to be exempt from the\r
+influence of the external world, we never get a conception of freedom in\r
+space. Every human action is inevitably conditioned by what surrounds\r
+him and by his own body. I lift my arm and let it fall. My action seems\r
+to me free; but asking myself whether I could raise my arm in every\r
+direction, I see that I raised it in the direction in which there was\r
+least obstruction to that action either from things around me or from\r
+the construction of my own body. I chose one out of all the possible\r
+directions because in it there were fewest obstacles. For my action to\r
+be free it was necessary that it should encounter no obstacles. To\r
+conceive of a man being free we must imagine him outside space, which is\r
+evidently impossible.\r
+\r
+(2) However much we approximate the time of judgment to the time of the\r
+deed, we never get a conception of freedom in time. For if I examine an\r
+action committed a second ago I must still recognize it as not being\r
+free, for it is irrevocably linked to the moment at which it was\r
+committed. Can I lift my arm? I lift it, but ask myself: could I have\r
+abstained from lifting my arm at the moment that has already passed? To\r
+convince myself of this I do not lift it the next moment. But I am not\r
+now abstaining from doing so at the first moment when I asked the\r
+question. Time has gone by which I could not detain, the arm I then\r
+lifted is no longer the same as the arm I now refrain from lifting, nor\r
+is the air in which I lifted it the same that now surrounds me. The\r
+moment in which the first movement was made is irrevocable, and at that\r
+moment I could make only one movement, and whatever movement I made\r
+would be the only one. That I did not lift my arm a moment later does\r
+not prove that I could have abstained from lifting it then. And since I\r
+could make only one movement at that single moment of time, it could not\r
+have been any other. To imagine it as free, it is necessary to imagine\r
+it in the present, on the boundary between the past and the future--that\r
+is, outside time, which is impossible.\r
+\r
+(3) However much the difficulty of understanding the causes may be\r
+increased, we never reach a conception of complete freedom, that is, an\r
+absence of cause. However inaccessible to us may be the cause of the\r
+expression of will in any action, our own or another's, the first demand\r
+of reason is the assumption of and search for a cause, for without a\r
+cause no phenomenon is conceivable. I raise my arm to perform an action\r
+independently of any cause, but my wish to perform an action without a\r
+cause is the cause of my action.\r
+\r
+But even if--imagining a man quite exempt from all influences, examining\r
+only his momentary action in the present, unevoked by any cause--we were\r
+to admit so infinitely small a remainder of inevitability as equaled\r
+zero, we should even then not have arrived at the conception of complete\r
+freedom in man, for a being uninfluenced by the external world, standing\r
+outside of time and independent of cause, is no longer a man.\r
+\r
+In the same way we can never imagine the action of a man quite devoid of\r
+freedom and entirely subject to the law of inevitability.\r
+\r
+(1) However we may increase our knowledge of the conditions of space in\r
+which man is situated, that knowledge can never be complete, for the\r
+number of those conditions is as infinite as the infinity of space. And\r
+therefore so long as not all the conditions influencing men are defined,\r
+there is no complete inevitability but a certain measure of freedom\r
+remains.\r
+\r
+(2) However we may prolong the period of time between the action we are\r
+examining and the judgment upon it, that period will be finite, while\r
+time is infinite, and so in this respect too there can never be absolute\r
+inevitability.\r
+\r
+(3) However accessible may be the chain of causation of any action, we\r
+shall never know the whole chain since it is endless, and so again we\r
+never reach absolute inevitability.\r
+\r
+But besides this, even if, admitting the remaining minimum of freedom to\r
+equal zero, we assumed in some given case--as for instance in that of a\r
+dying man, an unborn babe, or an idiot--complete absence of freedom, by\r
+so doing we should destroy the very conception of man in the case we are\r
+examining, for as soon as there is no freedom there is also no man. And\r
+so the conception of the action of a man subject solely to the law of\r
+inevitability without any element of freedom is just as impossible as\r
+the conception of a man's completely free action.\r
+\r
+And so to imagine the action of a man entirely subject to the law of\r
+inevitability without any freedom, we must assume the knowledge of an\r
+infinite number of space relations, an infinitely long period of time,\r
+and an infinite series of causes.\r
+\r
+To imagine a man perfectly free and not subject to the law of\r
+inevitability, we must imagine him all alone, beyond space, beyond time,\r
+and free from dependence on cause.\r
+\r
+In the first case, if inevitability were possible without freedom we\r
+should have reached a definition of inevitability by the laws of\r
+inevitability itself, that is, a mere form without content.\r
+\r
+In the second case, if freedom were possible without inevitability we\r
+should have arrived at unconditioned freedom beyond space, time, and\r
+cause, which by the fact of its being unconditioned and unlimited would\r
+be nothing, or mere content without form.\r
+\r
+We should in fact have reached those two fundamentals of which man's\r
+whole outlook on the universe is constructed--the incomprehensible\r
+essence of life, and the laws defining that essence.\r
+\r
+Reason says: (1) space with all the forms of matter that give it\r
+visibility is infinite, and cannot be imagined otherwise. (2) Time is\r
+infinite motion without a moment of rest and is unthinkable otherwise.\r
+(3) The connection between cause and effect has no beginning and can\r
+have no end.\r
+\r
+Consciousness says: (1) I alone am, and all that exists is but me,\r
+consequently I include space. (2) I measure flowing time by the fixed\r
+moment of the present in which alone I am conscious of myself as living,\r
+consequently I am outside time. (3) I am beyond cause, for I feel myself\r
+to be the cause of every manifestation of my life.\r
+\r
+Reason gives expression to the laws of inevitability. Consciousness\r
+gives expression to the essence of freedom.\r
+\r
+Freedom not limited by anything is the essence of life, in man's\r
+consciousness. Inevitability without content is man's reason in its\r
+three forms.\r
+\r
+Freedom is the thing examined. Inevitability is what examines. Freedom\r
+is the content. Inevitability is the form.\r
+\r
+Only by separating the two sources of cognition, related to one another\r
+as form to content, do we get the mutually exclusive and separately\r
+incomprehensible conceptions of freedom and inevitability.\r
+\r
+Only by uniting them do we get a clear conception of man's life.\r
+\r
+Apart from these two concepts which in their union mutually define one\r
+another as form and content, no conception of life is possible.\r
+\r
+All that we know of the life of man is merely a certain relation of free\r
+will to inevitability, that is, of consciousness to the laws of reason.\r
+\r
+All that we know of the external world of nature is only a certain\r
+relation of the forces of nature to inevitability, or of the essence of\r
+life to the laws of reason.\r
+\r
+The great natural forces lie outside us and we are not conscious of\r
+them; we call those forces gravitation, inertia, electricity, animal\r
+force, and so on, but we are conscious of the force of life in man and\r
+we call that freedom.\r
+\r
+But just as the force of gravitation, incomprehensible in itself but\r
+felt by every man, is understood by us only to the extent to which we\r
+know the laws of inevitability to which it is subject (from the first\r
+knowledge that all bodies have weight, up to Newton's law), so too the\r
+force of free will, incomprehensible in itself but of which everyone is\r
+conscious, is intelligible to us only in as far as we know the laws of\r
+inevitability to which it is subject (from the fact that every man dies,\r
+up to the knowledge of the most complex economic and historic laws).\r
+\r
+All knowledge is merely a bringing of this essence of life under the\r
+laws of reason.\r
+\r
+Man's free will differs from every other force in that man is directly\r
+conscious of it, but in the eyes of reason it in no way differs from any\r
+other force. The forces of gravitation, electricity, or chemical\r
+affinity are only distinguished from one another in that they are\r
+differently defined by reason. Just so the force of man's free will is\r
+distinguished by reason from the other forces of nature only by the\r
+definition reason gives it. Freedom, apart from necessity, that is,\r
+apart from the laws of reason that define it, differs in no way from\r
+gravitation, or heat, or the force that makes things grow; for reason,\r
+it is only a momentary undefinable sensation of life.\r
+\r
+And as the undefinable essence of the force moving the heavenly bodies,\r
+the undefinable essence of the forces of heat and electricity, or of\r
+chemical affinity, or of the vital force, forms the content of\r
+astronomy, physics, chemistry, botany, zoology, and so on, just in the\r
+same way does the force of free will form the content of history. But\r
+just as the subject of every science is the manifestation of this\r
+unknown essence of life while that essence itself can only be the\r
+subject of metaphysics, even the manifestation of the force of free will\r
+in human beings in space, in time, and in dependence on cause forms the\r
+subject of history, while free will itself is the subject of\r
+metaphysics.\r
+\r
+In the experimental sciences what we know we call the laws of\r
+inevitability, what is unknown to us we call vital force. Vital force is\r
+only an expression for the unknown remainder over and above what we know\r
+of the essence of life.\r
+\r
+So also in history what is known to us we call laws of inevitability,\r
+what is unknown we call free will. Free will is for history only an\r
+expression for the unknown remainder of what we know about the laws of\r
+human life.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XI\r
+\r
+History examines the manifestations of man's free will in connection\r
+with the external world in time and in dependence on cause, that is, it\r
+defines this freedom by the laws of reason, and so history is a science\r
+only in so far as this free will is defined by those laws.\r
+\r
+The recognition of man's free will as something capable of influencing\r
+historical events, that is, as not subject to laws, is the same for\r
+history as the recognition of a free force moving the heavenly bodies\r
+would be for astronomy.\r
+\r
+That assumption would destroy the possibility of the existence of laws,\r
+that is, of any science whatever. If there is even a single body moving\r
+freely, then the laws of Kepler and Newton are negatived and no\r
+conception of the movement of the heavenly bodies any longer exists. If\r
+any single action is due to free will, then not a single historical law\r
+can exist, nor any conception of historical events.\r
+\r
+For history, lines exist of the movement of human wills, one end of\r
+which is hidden in the unknown but at the other end of which a\r
+consciousness of man's will in the present moves in space, time, and\r
+dependence on cause.\r
+\r
+The more this field of motion spreads out before our eyes, the more\r
+evident are the laws of that movement. To discover and define those laws\r
+is the problem of history.\r
+\r
+From the standpoint from which the science of history now regards its\r
+subject on the path it now follows, seeking the causes of events in\r
+man's freewill, a scientific enunciation of those laws is impossible,\r
+for however man's free will may be restricted, as soon as we recognize\r
+it as a force not subject to law, the existence of law becomes\r
+impossible.\r
+\r
+Only by reducing this element of free will to the infinitesimal, that\r
+is, by regarding it as an infinitely small quantity, can we convince\r
+ourselves of the absolute inaccessibility of the causes, and then\r
+instead of seeking causes, history will take the discovery of laws as\r
+its problem.\r
+\r
+The search for these laws has long been begun and the new methods of\r
+thought which history must adopt are being worked out simultaneously\r
+with the self-destruction toward which--ever dissecting and dissecting\r
+the causes of phenomena--the old method of history is moving.\r
+\r
+All human sciences have traveled along that path. Arriving at\r
+infinitesimals, mathematics, the most exact of sciences, abandons the\r
+process of analysis and enters on the new process of the integration of\r
+unknown, infinitely small, quantities. Abandoning the conception of\r
+cause, mathematics seeks law, that is, the property common to all\r
+unknown, infinitely small, elements.\r
+\r
+In another form but along the same path of reflection the other sciences\r
+have proceeded. When Newton enunciated the law of gravity he did not say\r
+that the sun or the earth had a property of attraction; he said that all\r
+bodies from the largest to the smallest have the property of attracting\r
+one another, that is, leaving aside the question of the cause of the\r
+movement of the bodies, he expressed the property common to all bodies\r
+from the infinitely large to the infinitely small. The same is done by\r
+the natural sciences: leaving aside the question of cause, they seek for\r
+laws. History stands on the same path. And if history has for its object\r
+the study of the movement of the nations and of humanity and not the\r
+narration of episodes in the lives of individuals, it too, setting aside\r
+the conception of cause, should seek the laws common to all the\r
+inseparably interconnected infinitesimal elements of free will.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+CHAPTER XII\r
+\r
+From the time the law of Copernicus was discovered and proved, the mere\r
+recognition of the fact that it was not the sun but the earth that moves\r
+sufficed to destroy the whole cosmography of the ancients. By disproving\r
+that law it might have been possible to retain the old conception of the\r
+movements of the bodies, but without disproving it, it would seem\r
+impossible to continue studying the Ptolemaic worlds. But even after the\r
+discovery of the law of Copernicus the Ptolemaic worlds were still\r
+studied for a long time.\r
+\r
+From the time the first person said and proved that the number of births\r
+or of crimes is subject to mathematical laws, and that this or that mode\r
+of government is determined by certain geographical and economic\r
+conditions, and that certain relations of population to soil produce\r
+migrations of peoples, the foundations on which history had been built\r
+were destroyed in their essence.\r
+\r
+By refuting these new laws the former view of history might have been\r
+retained; but without refuting them it would seem impossible to continue\r
+studying historic events as the results of man's free will. For if a\r
+certain mode of government was established or certain migrations of\r
+peoples took place in consequence of such and such geographic,\r
+ethnographic, or economic conditions, then the free will of those\r
+individuals who appear to us to have established that mode of government\r
+or occasioned the migrations can no longer be regarded as the cause.\r
+\r
+And yet the former history continues to be studied side by side with the\r
+laws of statistics, geography, political economy, comparative philology,\r
+and geology, which directly contradict its assumptions.\r
+\r
+The struggle between the old views and the new was long and stubbornly\r
+fought out in physical philosophy. Theology stood on guard for the old\r
+views and accused the new of violating revelation. But when truth\r
+conquered, theology established itself just as firmly on the new\r
+foundation.\r
+\r
+Just as prolonged and stubborn is the struggle now proceeding between\r
+the old and the new conception of history, and theology in the same way\r
+stands on guard for the old view, and accuses the new view of subverting\r
+revelation.\r
+\r
+In the one case as in the other, on both sides the struggle provokes\r
+passion and stifles truth. On the one hand there is fear and regret for\r
+the loss of the whole edifice constructed through the ages, on the other\r
+is the passion for destruction.\r
+\r
+To the men who fought against the rising truths of physical philosophy,\r
+it seemed that if they admitted that truth it would destroy faith in\r
+God, in the creation of the firmament, and in the miracle of Joshua the\r
+son of Nun. To the defenders of the laws of Copernicus and Newton, to\r
+Voltaire for example, it seemed that the laws of astronomy destroyed\r
+religion, and he utilized the law of gravitation as a weapon against\r
+religion.\r
+\r
+Just so it now seems as if we have only to admit the law of\r
+inevitability, to destroy the conception of the soul, of good and evil,\r
+and all the institutions of state and church that have been built up on\r
+those conceptions.\r
+\r
+So too, like Voltaire in his time, uninvited defenders of the law of\r
+inevitability today use that law as a weapon against religion, though\r
+the law of inevitability in history, like the law of Copernicus in\r
+astronomy, far from destroying, even strengthens the foundation on which\r
+the institutions of state and church are erected.\r
+\r
+As in the question of astronomy then, so in the question of history now,\r
+the whole difference of opinion is based on the recognition or\r
+nonrecognition of something absolute, serving as the measure of visible\r
+phenomena. In astronomy it was the immovability of the earth, in history\r
+it is the independence of personality--free will.\r
+\r
+As with astronomy the difficulty of recognizing the motion of the earth\r
+lay in abandoning the immediate sensation of the earth's fixity and of\r
+the motion of the planets, so in history the difficulty of recognizing\r
+the subjection of personality to the laws of space, time, and cause lies\r
+in renouncing the direct feeling of the independence of one's own\r
+personality. But as in astronomy the new view said: "It is true that we\r
+do not feel the movement of the earth, but by admitting its immobility\r
+we arrive at absurdity, while by admitting its motion (which we do not\r
+feel) we arrive at laws," so also in history the new view says: "It is\r
+true that we are not conscious of our dependence, but by admitting our\r
+free will we arrive at absurdity, while by admitting our dependence on\r
+the external world, on time, and on cause, we arrive at laws."\r
+\r
+In the first case it was necessary to renounce the consciousness of an\r
+unreal immobility in space and to recognize a motion we did not feel; in\r
+the present case it is similarly necessary to renounce a freedom that\r
+does not exist, and to recognize a dependence of which we are not\r
+conscious.\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+\r
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of War and Peace, by Leo Tolstoy\r
+\r
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projects / visualising-punctuation.git / commitdiff
